#accommodation near Oxford Street

[lbnhotelsandtours]

ABC Hyde Park Hotel in London: A Hidden Gem

Tucked away on a quiet tree-lined street just steps from the hustle and bustle of Marble Arch, you’ll find the ABC Hyde Park Hotel. This charming 4-star boutique hotel is a hidden gem providing luxury accommodations and an intimate atmosphere in the heart of London. 

Despite its small size with only 49 rooms, ABC Hyde Park punches above its weight when it comes to amenities, service, and location. This makes it one of the best hotel deals in Marble Arch for travelers looking for a relaxing home away from home during their London holiday.

A Boutique Feel

The ABC Hyde Park Hotel in London is housed in a traditional 19th century townhouse giving it a lovely boutique aesthetic. No two rooms are the same, with each featuring its own unique layout and décor. Expect a cozy living room atmosphere with tasteful furniture, calming color palettes, and high-end finishes throughout. 

Many rooms provide scenic views over Hyde Park and others face the quaint neighborhood street. The hotel has a variety of room types suitable for all travelers including classic doubles, family connecting rooms, and spacious suites.

5-Star Amenities 

What makes the ABC Hyde Park stand out from other Marble Arch hotels is its wide array of luxurious amenities more commonly found in 5-star hotels. Guests can enjoy 24-hour in-room dining, Molton Brown toiletries, free high-speed Wi-Fi, Nespresso machines, and smart TVs in every room. The hotel also provides conveniences like luggage storage and complimentary newspapers to make you feel at home.

The jewel in the ABC Hyde Park’s crown is its newly built wellness area featuring a 15-meter pool, steam room, sauna, and modern fitness center. This exceptional facility rivals many exclusive health clubs and allows guests to maintain their exercise routine while traveling. The hotel even offers poolside service so you can sip cocktails without leaving the water!

Excellent Service

From the minute you walk through the polished front doors of the ABC Hyde Park hotel the friendly staff give you their undivided attention. The knowledgeable concierge team can offer expert tips for experiencing London like a local. They can secure reservations at popular restaurants, recommend hidden gems and exciting day trips, and arrange any activity you desire, including theater tickets or a personal shopping guide.

The hotel’s exceptional service also shines through in their dining options. The upscale restaurant, The Hyde, provides European cuisine focusing on seasonal British ingredients. Guests love starting their day with the complimentary cooked-to-order breakfast. In-room dining is also available 24 hours per day.

At the bar you’ll find a frequently changing selection of boutique wines and unique cocktails. The hotel also hosts regular wine-tasting events and a daily manager’s reception where guests can mingle over drinks and canapés.  

Location

The best part about the ABC Hyde Park Hotel is its phenomenal location. The hotel enjoys a prestigious Marble Arch address on a quiet cul-de-sac adjacent to Hyde Park. It’s a short stroll to Marble Arch Station providing easy access to the London Underground. From here, you can quickly reach top attractions like Oxford Street Shopping, Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, and more.

Guests staying at the ABC Hyde Park Hotel are also just steps from the green open spaces and famous landmarks of Hyde Park. Walk to the Princess Diana Memorial Fountain, Kensington Palace or snap photos in front of the Arch. The hotel provides bicycles, allowing active travelers to ride through the park and explore this iconic part of London. 

When you’re not sightseeing, the ABC Hyde Park Hotel’s neighborhood has fantastic high-end shopping, restaurants, bars, and entertainment on your doorstep. Indulge in retail therapy on Oxford Street, catch a show in the West End Theater District or find trendy cafes and eateries in nearby Marylebone.  

With its prime location near Paddington Station the ABC Hyde Park hotel is also conveniently situated for accessing London Heathrow Airport or making exciting day trips outside the city. Guests can easily visit Windsor Castle, Stonehenge, Bath and more.

Best Hotel Deals in Marrakech

Marrakech is an exotic imperial city and a major tourist destination in Morocco. The city oozes atmosphere with its ancient architecture, vibrant souks, fragrant gardens and lively Djemaa El Fna Square. Visitors flock here for cultural sights, desert adventures, luxury pampering, and unique accommodations. 

You’ll find riads are the most popular lodging choice in Marrakech. These traditional Moroccan mansions with interior courtyards offer an oasis of calm from the city’s hustle. Many riads have been transformed into gorgeous boutique hotels filled with ornate design details, lush greenery and refreshing pools.

Some of the best hotel deals in Marrakech are available at smaller riad-style hotels that provide personalized service at reasonable prices. For example, Riad Dar One offers beautiful, individually decorated rooms starting at around $100 per night.

Larger luxury hotels like La Mamounia and Royal Mansour Marrakech define extravagance with palatial grounds and world-class spas. While rates over $500 per night are common, you can sometimes snag last-minute deals on unused rooms. 

Hotel bargains are also available at popular chains like Hilton and Sofitel which cater to business travelers with reliable amenities. Though lacking in Moroccan charm, you’ll often find rooms for under $150 per night.

No matter your budget, visiting Marrakech is the perfect chance to experience unique riad living. Just wander the ancient Medina quarter to the soundtrack of melodic call to prayer and lose yourself in the magic of Morocco’s alluring Red City.

[happydaysapartmentsliverpool]

Experience Liverpool's Finest Offerings: Hotels near Concert Square Liverpool

Liverpool, a city with a rich cultural heritage and vibrant nightlife, has something to offer to every traveler. Whether you are a music lover, a foodie, or a shopaholic, staying at Happy Days Group's centrally located accommodations near Concert Square Liverpool will ensure you have an unforgettable time exploring the city's popular hotspots.

1. 16 Queen Avenue Apartments:

Stay in the Grade II listed building tucked away in the quaint Queen Avenue, just a short walk from Liverpool One, Royal Albert Dock, and the popular Cavern Quarter. This historic location offers a serene ambiance, making it the perfect retreat after a night of excitement at Concert Square.

2. New Oxford House Apartments:

Choose from 2-bedroom apartments or hotel-style ensuite rooms in Dale Street, surrounded by bars, restaurants, and popular destinations such as the Liver Building, Liverpool ONE, Mathew Street, and Castle Street. These modern apartments provide a comfortable stay close to the heart of the city's bustling nightlife.

3. Lord Street Apartments:

Steps away from the famous Liverpool ONE shopping centre, our Lord Street apartments provide the perfect resting spot for shoppers to drop off their bags before indulging in a movie, dinner, or cocktails. Don't forget to explore the vibrant restaurant scene of Castle Street and the historic waterfront.

4. Concert Square Apartments:

If you want to be in the thick of it, our hotels near Concert Square Liverpool are the perfect choice for you. Nestled in the trendy Ropewalks area, these converted warehouse apartments are full of character and surrounded by some of the best bars and restaurants in the city. Enjoy the lively atmosphere right at your doorstep.

5. Mathew Street Apartments:

Stay in our central Mathew Street Apartments, where you can gaze out the window and see the historic sign and immerse yourself in Beatles history. Just a stone's throw away from Liverpool One, the Cavern Quarter, and the Metquarter, this location is perfect for foodies, shoppers, and bar hoppers.

6. SGT Peppers Apartments:

For music lovers, our SGT Peppers Apartments situated on Matthew Street are the only destination you need. Surrounded by Beatles memorabilia and live music venues, these apartments offer a unique and unforgettable experience. After a night of music, rest in comfort and style.

7. L1 Boutique Apartments:

Located in the prime city centre location of Colquitt Street, our L1 Boutique apartments are a short walk from Bold Street, Liverpool’s historic China Town, and the famous Bombed Out Church. Enjoy the creative Ropewalks area and its independent bars, restaurants, and shops before heading to Concert Square for an exciting evening.

8. Kent Street Apartments:

Stay in the creative Ropewalks area, surrounded by independent stores, bars, and restaurants, and within walking distance of Liverpool’s famous Cathedrals, China Town, and the Philharmonic Hall. The Kent Street apartments also offer fantastic city views from their balconies, perfect for a peaceful morning after a night of fun.

9. Henry Street Apartments:

In the heart of the city centre, our Henry Street apartments provide easy access to popular attractions such as Liverpool One, the ACC Arena, and the Cavern Quarter. Enjoy quiet balcony breakfasts and a peaceful night’s sleep while still being minutes away from the city’s hustle and bustle and the excitement of Concert Square.

Prime Location:

Happy Days Group provides a wide selection of accommodations in Liverpool, but their hotels near Concert Square are a top choice for nightlife enthusiasts. Located in the heart of the Ropewalks area, these converted warehouse apartments offer a unique and characterful stay. Concert Square, just a short stroll away, is the epicenter of Liverpool's nightlife, bustling with a fantastic array of bars, clubs, and restaurants.

A Night to Remember:

Concert Square is the go-to spot for locals and visitors alike when the sun goes down. The energy is contagious as the streets come alive with music, laughter, and excitement. Whether you want to dance the night away to live bands or enjoy DJ sets, Concert Square has something for everyone. It's the perfect place to make new friends and create unforgettable memories.

Comfort and Style:

After a night of excitement, return to Happy Days' hotels near Concert Square Liverpool for a well-deserved rest. These apartments are tastefully designed, offering a cozy and stylish ambiance for a relaxing stay. Whether you're a solo traveler or exploring the city with a group of up to 17 guests, the accommodations cater to all your needs. Make the most of your Liverpool experience by staying at Happy Days Group's centrally located accommodations. Whether you're a solo traveler or in a group, these stylish and comfortable apartments offer the ideal base to explore the city's vibrant nightlife and popular hotspots. Book your stay today and get ready to have an unforgettable time in Liverpool.

[centralparkcollection]

How far is Paddington from London city centre?

How far is Paddington Station from the London city centre? If you are choosing where to stay in London, you will need to understand how long it will take to get around the city. The last thing you want to do is spend half of your holiday riding the Tube! Fortunately, the centrally located hotels near Paddington Station spare you from winding up in such a situation. 

How far is Paddington from the London city centre?

London’s city centre is generally defined by the City of Westminster borough. In fact, this borough includes the neighbourhood of Paddington. Therefore, when you choose a hotel such as the Royal Eagle Hotel, London, you are already in the centre.

However, let’s look at some key neighbourhoods in Central London and how close they are to Paddington.

Distance from Paddington to Little Venice: 0.7 miles

Distance from Paddington to Notting Hill: 1 mile

Distance from Paddington to Soho: 2 miles

Distance from Paddington to Buckingham Palace: 2 miles 

Distance from Paddington to Covent Garden: 2.5 miles

Distance from Paddington to King’s Cross: 2.5 miles

Distance from Paddington to Big Ben: 3 miles

Distance from Paddington to South Bank: 3.5 miles 

Distance from Paddington to the City of London: 4 miles 

How to get around from hotels near Paddington Station

Paddington Station is one of the city’s major mainline rail stations. Fast, regular trains link to Heathrow Airport while the Underground is served by the Bakerloo, Hammersmith & City, Circle, and District lines.

All you need to do is pick up an Oyster card to pay for your journeys. Alternatively, a contactless credit or debit card gives you the same fares. 

As an alternative, you can take a bus from outside the station. Bus services connect the station to such landmarks as the British Library, Tate Britain, Oxford Circus, Portobello Road Market, and Kensington High Street. 

In fact, you can even walk to several nearby attractions.

Things to do near Paddington 

There are so many attractions in and around Paddington. Here are some of the best things to do while staying at hotels near Paddington Station.

Wander the canals of Little Venice – perfect for honeymooners

Go for a morning jog in Hyde Park – or hire a bicycle or pedal boat 

Photograph the Italian Gardens – a true hidden gem

Catch sunset at Primrose Hill – recommended for couples 

Follow the Paddington Bear Paw Print Trail – great with kids

Tour the Sherlock Holmes Museum – no need to read the books first

Take selfies with the waxworks at Madame Tussauds – book tickets in advance to avoid the queues 

Visit Kensington Palace – great for families

Where to stay near Paddington 

In terms of where to stay near Paddington, look no further than the Royal Eagle Hotel, London. This Victorian-era property is furnished with modern rooms that accommodate couples, families, and business travellers alike. All units have a private bathroom and complimentary Wi-Fi. 

Friendly staff are available to provide tailored recommendations for what to do and where to eat while staying at hotels near Paddington Station.

[theblueorchidhotels]

The best places to spend New Year's Eve in Central London Hotels

London is a very vibrant city throughout the year. During December, it prepares itself to welcome Christmas as well as the New Year. Celebrations are in full swing and people are dotting the city to do some holiday shopping. Central London hotels run a number of deals for travellers to choose from during their city at this magical time. 

Best Places To Spend New Year's Eve

Visit A Museum

London has many world-class museums. These museums are great for an educational tour of the world and learning about the city's rich history and culture. Central London hotels such as The Wellington and The Rochester are located near many famous museums of the city. Some brilliant museums in the city of London are: 

The Natural History Museum: This museum is home to a vast collection of natural history specimens, including dinosaurs, minerals, and animals. 

The Sherlock Holmes Museum: Located at 221B Baker Street, this museum is dedicated to the famous detective and offers a glimpse into Victorian London.

The British Museum: This iconic museum houses a vast collection of art and artefacts from around the world, including the Elgin Marbles and the Rosetta Stone.

The Victoria and Albert Museum: This museum is dedicated to art and design, and it has a vast collection of decorative arts, textiles, and fashion. It's a great place to visit for anyone interested in design or fashion. 8 minutes from The Wellington and The Rochester, Blue Orchid hotels London provides travellers with accommodation that is conveniently located throughout the city. 

The London Shopping Experience

London is a great place to go shopping, with many popular shopping districts such as Oxford Street, Camden Market, and Covent Garden. You can find everything from high-end designer fashion to unique and quirky souvenirs. It is the perfect way to spend the New Year. However,  travellers may find these markets a bit more pricey than usual. Therefore it is advised to go shopping after the New Year. If you are looking for something unique, stay at Tower suites hotel by Blue Orchid which is located 15 minutes away from the Columbia Road Flower Market. 

Theatre Shows 

London's West End is home to many world-famous theatres, and you can see a variety of plays and musicals. Some popular shows include "The Lion King," "Les Misérables," and "Wicked." 

Travellers can also enjoy concerts, New Year Parades and parties that dot the city. London has many music venues, and you can find a variety of concerts and performances throughout the city. You can see everything from classical music to rock and pop.

Guests can stay at one of Blue Orchid hotels London during their visit and take full advantage of the experiences the city offers.

Trip Out Of London 

If you have time, you can take a day trip from London to some of the nearby towns and cities. Some popular options include Oxford, Cambridge, and Windsor.

Tour London 

London has many interesting and informative tours available, including walking tours, bus tours, and boat tours. You can learn about the city's history and landmarks, and see some of the city's hidden gems. Some of the must-visit landmarks include the following: 

The Tower of London: This historic castle, which dates back to the 11th century, is home to the Crown Jewels and offers guided tours led by Yeoman Warders, also known as Beefeaters. Located within 5 minutes of walking distance, Tower suites hotel by Blue Orchid is the best place for accommodation if the Tower of London is on your bucket list. 

Buckingham Palace: Home to the Queen of England, Buckingham Palace is a must-see attraction in London. You can watch the Changing of the Guard ceremony outside the palace gates.

The London Eye: Take in panoramic views of the city from the top of this giant Ferris wheel on the South Bank of the River Thames.

St. Paul's Cathedral: This iconic cathedral, designed by Sir Christopher Wren, is a beautiful architectural masterpiece and a popular tourist attraction. You can take a tour of the cathedral or attend a service.

The London Dungeon: This interactive attraction is a fun way to learn about the city's dark history. It features live actors, special effects, and interactive exhibits.

[lariej]

^^ this reminded me i made this post however i made this post ages ago and i now LIVE in manchester so here’s some extra fun facts to help with geography and world building!

the city centre for people is arguably Piccadilly Gardens - it has a shopping centre (The Arndale) and tons of shops n restaurants, it’s in the northern section of Manchester city centre - it’s also always busy as hell (Market Street i’m looking at you)

Northern Quarter is a sort of posh, more expensive, part of Manchester (also in the north of the city centre). it has a very hipster vibe and has shops, bars, and pubs

Gay Village is also in the north side but more central than either of the above, it’s mostly clubs and bars than anything else (also occasional kink related events go on here), lots of drag queens and drunk ppl - Canal Street is the main place

the south of Manchester outside of the city centre is what I like to think is the ‘posh bit’ - it includes areas like Sale and Altrincham which are definitely posh lmao

the northern parts of Manchester (like Bolton) used to be part of Lancashire (big up the red rose baby!!) until a good few decades ago so there a lot of slang that you’ll also find in Lancashire up north - these places tend to have stronger accents i find, but rlly you’ll find heavy accents anywhere in the city, that’s more so a thing of how you were raised ig

The Trafford Centre is the shopping centre that people hype up for being really big and cool - it’s kinda overpriced and 80% designer shops i can’t be arsed going round - also it’s mainly accessible by tram or bus if you don’t wanna spend half an hour or more driving around the FOUR fucking car parks they have spread out around the retail park and is further outside of the city centre

speaking of - trams. we have em. they’re cool and you don’t pay on the tram you tap a card on a screen before getting on the platform and it will charge u based on where you tap your card after you’ve got off (tap n go system basically with zones that charge u differently based on where u are travelling in MCR)

Fallowfield and Withington are the student areas in the south of Manchester - mostly UoM students around here whether in houses or on campus accommodation - for anyone looking for a manchester uni student bar to name drop for a uni au or something - go for 256 or 42s (or Factory but that’s near Gay Village so it’s a good bus ride away but it’s common with students)

there’s a lot of southerners in the city that have moved here, Mancunians born n raised here will take the piss out of them for fun (a friend here told me about how he convinced a southern girl that ‘Stockport’ was pronounced ‘St (Saint) Ockport’ and she bought it)

Popular train stations include: Victoria Station, Oxford Road Station, Piccadilly Station, Deansgate -> most trains coming to Manchester will go through Piccadilly as that’s the biggest if i remember right

hope this helps!! also i love talking about this city so if anyone has questions about it i am happy to answer!!

Ghost’s Manc Accent Guide (ish)

listen i’ve seen a few guides written for this fandom regarding writing Soap’s Scottish accent and yeah fair BUT i have not seen one done for writing a manc accent for Ghost yet!!

this is very much gonna be half arsed because while I myself am not a manc, i have grown up in the north west of england and literally my entire family is (Bolton/Denton on my dads side, Sale on my mums) but it might help some people

if something is from Manchester it is Mancunian - just an extra word to use instead of ‘from Manchester’ in writing (also whenever i see it written in fics i go ‘oh damn this author knows what they’re on about’)

now my experience with manc accents as i said before is Bolton/Denton and Sale which have their differences from a Central Manchester accent. to my knowledge we don’t know what area Ghost is from so i could be wrong here

BUT!! generally, mancunian accents will drop Hs at the beginning of words

���don’t be hanging about’ ends up sounding more like ‘don’t be ‘angin’ about’

one of the most common things I’ve seen is dropping the G at the end of -ing words as well (as seen about with hanging)

you get the classic northern “fuckin ‘ell!”through this which absolutely Ghost would say

this next one might not be a central manchester thing but it IS something i’ve heard my dad do so if you’re writing Ghost with a heavier accent from the outer regions of Manchester this could be of some use to you

‘you was’, ‘I were’, ‘we was’ - just fucking around with the grammar rules really, I’ve found it’s usually with the heavier accents and when ur getting a bit ‘lazier’ with speaking - definitely a very informal thing

also - we don’t say y’all. it is very much not a typical thing for someone to use y’all unless they have a lot of interaction with american content on social media which i doubt Ghost does

instead consider ‘yous’ - this might be more from where i’m from (Lancashire - further up north about a county over from Greater Manchester) but yous/yers are something u hear - again though, very informal and slang like, rarely hear adults say it

I’m not gonna go into much detail with specific mancunian slang simply bc i wasn’t raised there so my knowledge of it is spotty aside from what my family uses but:

arse not ass

can’t be arsed - can’t be bothered

piss off - self explanatory, fuck off

add ‘absolutely’ to damn near anything and u will have a phrase for drunk - go tos are ‘wankered’ ‘fucked’ ‘pissed/pissed up’

bollacks - balls but also can be used as and exclamation when stuff goes wrong

‘shits gone tits up’ - stuff has definitely gone wrong

‘fuck sake’ - usually said with great exasperation and annoyance, emphasis when speaking is on the ‘sake’

hope this helps someone!! and if anyone has any corrections or additions please do let me know!!

[bayswaterinn]

What to See in London on a One Day Tour

There’s so much to see and do in London that you must maximise your visit and see as much as possible. If you’re staying in one of the hotels near Queensway, London and only have one day to dedicate to sightseeing, here are some of the top places you need to visit in order to get the most out of your stay. 

1. The Houses of Parliament and Big Ben 

London isn’t a city of skyscrapers and instead has one of the most unique and dynamic skylines in the UK, with one of the defining features being the Palace of Westminster, better known as the Houses of Parliament. Adjoined to this iconic building is Big Ben, the clock tower that can be found on depictions of London all around the world. 

If you’re in London and want to see all the iconic landmarks in one day, make sure you start here as this is arguably the top tourist hotspot in the city and will not disappoint. 

2. Buckingham Palace 

Great Britain is famous for many things, but the royal family tops the list. Whilst there are palaces all around the UK that the Queen stays at, her main residence is Buckingham Palace. It’s just a short distance from the Houses of Parliament and hotels on Bayswater Road, London, making it easy to slot into your itinerary for the day. 

3. St. Paul’s Cathedral 

Another defining feature of the London skyline is St. Paul’s Cathedral, known for its iconic dome. It’s more than 1,400 years old and is placed atop the highest point in the City of London, Ludgate Hill. The cathedral has been witness to two world wars, many battles, and more monarchs that we can count. It’s steeped in history and is an absolute must-see to anyone visiting London for a day. It’s also exceptionally close to Park Avenue Bayswater Inn Hyde Park, meaning you can spend less time travelling and more time exploring this great Anglican cathedral. 

4. The Tower of London 

For bloody tales and a glimpse at the Crown Jewels, make sure you visit the Tower of London. It is a sight behold amid the modern buildings that surround it, but from 1078 onwards, this has been a royal fortress tasked with protecting London and the reigning monarch. The lively tour guides put on an excellent performance and are brimming with knowledge on the gruesome history of the castle, and you can see the world-famous ravens who have been at the tower for hundreds of years. 

5. Oxford Street 

For something a bit more laid back and modern, hit up Oxford Street, London’s shopping hub. There are over 300 shops for you to peruse, not to mention the multiple restaurants and pubs that also line this famous street. If you’re looking to get a souvenir or simply indulge in some retail therapy after a busy day of sightseeing, this is the place to go.

You don’t need to worry about carrying heavy bags – there is plenty of accommodation near Oxford Street which serves as the perfect home base to retreat to after your jam-packed one-day tour of London.  

[teawaffles]

It Happened One Night: Chapter 1

T/N: Takes place after the Scandal in the British Empire arc (Chapters 17-23 of the manga).

Baker Street was full of people as usual. But in contrast to the hubbub, the entire street was enveloped in a vaguely unnatural, lonely atmosphere.

It looked like it was going to rain. That was what John H Watson thought as he walked down the street, gazing up at the heavily clouded sky.

“We should get back quickly, Sherlock.”

Saying that, he looked at the man beside him — Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock squinted and sniffed the air, as if trying to detect the smell of rain, and agreed with him.

“Right. And I also have some things here I don’t want to get drenched.”

Then Sherlock looked down at the items he was carrying. They each bore a large paper bag, stuffed to the brim with food and other sundry goods.

John furrowed his brows.

“Sherlock, haven’t you bought too many personal items? We’re even more broke than usual, you know,” he reminded.

But Sherlock wasn’t perturbed.

“They might be useless to you, John, but to me these are necessities of life. Please overlook this just once.”

“It’s no use, huh……”

It was better to avoid cigarettes at times like this, but John knew it was pointless to say that — hence instead of going on at length, he just gave a small sigh. Somehow, it felt like the bag in his arms had grown heavier.

As the two men walked on like this, they eventually drew near the flat where they lived. 221B Baker Street. This was the very place from which the great detective Sherlock Holmes, and his assistant, John H Watson, unravelled Britain’s mysteries.

However, they walked past their lodgings, not once slowing down. As they passed by, John glanced toward their flat.

There, remained the scars of appalling destruction. The building itself had retained its original structure, but the flat in which they’d lived had its windows all blown out; from what he could see through them, the walls and ceilings had been scorched to a miserable crisp.

They’d been unexpectedly drawn into the “Scandal of the British Empire” case, in which Sherlock had devised a bold strategy — blowing up their own apartment — in order to save Irene Adler.

They had achieved their goal, but at the cost of losing their home for the time being. As such, Sherlock and John, together with their landlady Miss Hudson, were staying in cheap accommodation a little ways from here until the apartment repairs were complete.

As they headed to their temporary lodgings, John’s shoulders drooped.

“Although all of us had agreed on it, in the end, it’s still tough to see the place you’ve gotten used to living in become like that.”

“Sorry about that. I had no other option back then.”

Sherlock kept his eyes forward as he apologised with sincerity. To that, John smiled gently.

“I don’t really mind — In any case, I’ve been put through many reckless situations like this before……. Oh—”

Right then, a drop of water splashed on his palm. Just as he registered that icy sensation, more raindrops came pouring down.

Sherlock looked at him.

“It arrived earlier than I thought.”

“Yeah, let’s run for it.”

Then, carrying their bags with both arms, the two men half-ran to their hotel.

When they arrived, they shook their heads slightly to rid the water from their hair, then walked past the front desk to their room.

After putting down their bags and opening the door, they found Miss Hudson standing in the doorway.

John tilted his head in confusion.

“Miss Hudson, what brings you here?”

As it would be improper for them to share a room with a lady, the two men chose to rent out a separate room despite the steep cost. Hence, John thought she would be in her own room now — why was she in theirs?

She smiled back awkwardly.

“Mr Mycroft’s here.”

“What?”

Instantly, Sherlock’s face morphed into one of displeasure. Without asking the details, he took up his shopping and walked into the room. Seated on a chair near the wall was his older brother Mycroft, looking out the window.

“……Damn you, Mycroft. Coming all the way to this hotel — what you do want?”

Distinctly uncomfortable dealing with his own elder brother, Sherlock spoke up first, his tone sour. But Mycroft simply turned to look at him, and responded without haste.

“That attitude again as always, Sherly. How about subverting my expectations sometimes and acting like a gentleman for once? Or rather, is it that you’re so frustrated by a case you forgot your manners?”

“Ugh……”

Mycroft looked around the cramped interior as he spoke, and the corners of Sherlock’s mouth twitched as he let out a groan. He didn’t regret blowing up their apartment itself, but hearing Mycroft’s calm, pointed comments forced him to remember his own helplessness back then.

“……Did you come all the way here just to make a fool of me?” he retorted, trying to defend himself. But Mycroft simply shrugged his shoulders in resignation, and got straight to the point.

“If you’re having trouble with accommodation, there’s a country house in the Cotswolds I can introduce you to.”

“……What’s this, all of a sudden?”

Country houses were often built by nobles and wealthy landowners as status symbols on their own land: it was ridiculous to suggest that someone would simply lend theirs out. Sherlock raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

“Isn’t it natural for an older brother to want to help his younger sibling in his time of need? Furthermore, although I’m sure they’d agreed to your plan, it pains me to think how Dr Watson and Miss Hudson have been caught up in it.”

“We don’t need your concern. We’ll do what we want, so just get the hell out of here.” Sherlock made a shooing motion with his hand, in a bid to chase Mycroft out, but was soon admonished by John, who’d entered the room afterward. John then calmly turned to Mycroft, seeming eager to listen.

“Do you mean that, you would be willing to lend us an apartment? Thank you very much for your offer — could you tell us more?”

Mycroft was smiling as he nodded.

“Actually, an acquaintance of mine — a noble — intends to stay in London for a week. They’re looking for someone to look after their mansion in the meantime, hence I thought it would align perfectly with your situation, Doctor.”

John nodded in understanding.

“I see. However, if that’s the case, why not ask their employees to stay behind?”

“From what I’d heard, they felt it would be a good opportunity to give their hardworking employees a vacation as well. Although if you aren’t able to accept, Doctor, they did say they would ask some of them to remain in the house……”

“In other words, if we were to take up the offer, then their employees would be able to take a break. Moreover, the three of us would be in charge of the mansion’s upkeep during our stay.”

“Not exactly,” Mycroft clarified, “They said you won’t have to concern yourselves with the maintenance and such. As long as it stays reasonably tidy, you are free to enjoy yourselves while keeping an eye on the house.”

It was a very generous offer, so generous it invited suspicion of an ulterior motive; however, since it came from Mycroft, perhaps it could be trusted. John wanted very much to accept — he couldn’t say he was entirely pleased with their current arrangement — but he knew his partner didn’t view it that simply.

As expected, Sherlock tutted in disapproval.

“This place suits us just fine: I don’t want to live in some boring mansion in the middle of nowhere. Anyway, I wouldn’t be able to take on clients when I’m away.”

Sherlock himself did harbour some guilt at making the two of them endure their present lifestyle, but following his brother’s opinion was simply anathema to him. As such, he couldn’t help but bite back in reply.

John understood that, but admonished him regardless.

“Sherlock, you shouldn’t talk to your own brother like that. Mr Mycroft was just looking out for us when he made that suggestion.”

“Pay no mind, Doctor. He’s been like this for a long time.”

Mycroft gave them a wide smile. Then, he directed a question to Miss Hudson, who had been keeping an eye on them from behind.

“We’ve heard what my little brother thinks, but how about you, Miss Hudson?”

“Eh? A-Ah~……”

Having suddenly been addressed, she responded in a faltering tone.

“Well, um…… To me, I think, it would certainly be helpful.”

In an effort to consider Sherlock’s feelings on the matter, she ended up replying in a roundabout way — but it was clear that she was in favour as well.

Mycroft turned to John.

“How about you, Doctor?”

For a moment, John was at a loss for words, but when he heard the floorboards creaking underneath his feet, he made up his mind. He looked at Sherlock as he nodded slowly.

“I think, that the country house might be more pleasant, compared to our current circumstances. Moreover, we could always receive clients via post.”

“…………”

Both of them had answered in the affirmative. Now, only Sherlock remained.

Despite the apparent obstacles being cleared, he still had his reservations. But eventually, Sherlock looked at the ceiling in resignation.

“Ah, bollocks. It would just be selfish of me to refuse at this point, now wouldn’t it? Alright. Please let us stay at that country house until the apartment is fixed.”

At that reply, Mycroft smiled in satisfaction, and Sherlock turned away to hide his frustration from those eyes.

The three of them drew up some agreements on their new living arrangements, and with that, until the flat at Baker Street was fixed, they would proceed to stay at a noble’s mansion out in the country.

Footnotes:

[1] The Cotswolds is a large hilly area to the northwest of London, further than Oxford and dotted with villages. (Wikipedia)

T/N: After the angst from the last story, I just remembered how much I love the Baker Street gang 😉

[parkgrand]

The Heart of London: Things to do in Westminster

When people say they are going to London, they do not always realise just how many places that could mean. From London Heathrow Hotel in the west to the centrally located hotels near Lancaster Gate, these two places offer very different experiences of the capital. Technically, the City of Westminster is both a city and borough, and is now a core part of Central London - it was only recognised as a part of London in 1965 when the concept of Greater London was developed. Here are four things to do in this historical epicenter. 

Park Grand Accommodation 

A large portion of Park Grand accommodation can be found within the City of Westminster, including the Park Grand Hotel London, Hyde Park International, Park Grand London Paddington and more. Whether you make the most of the hotel’s dining facilities such as ​​The Craven Lounge at Park Grand London Lancaster Gate, or enjoy these hotels’ proximity to the rest of the amazing tourist attractions on this list, a stay in the Park Grand plays a vital role in the City of Westminster experience. 

Buckingham Palace and The Changing of the Guards

You can’t stay in the same borough as Queen Elizabeth II and not stop by, right? This royal palace has been visited since it was built in 1703 and remains a top London attraction for first-time visitors to the city. Part of the appeal of the palace is the tradition and ceremony, which is best captured in the Changing of the Guards ceremony, which takes place in front of the palace. Watch and admire as the Queen’s guards perform a traditional ceremony in their red coats and bearskin hats, featuring triumphant bands and plenty of marching.

Shopping 

If you have traveled to London for a bit of retail therapy, then the City of Westminster is the area you want to visit. Here, you will find Oxford Street, Regent’s Street, Carnaby Street, Liberty London, Bond Street, Savile Row… Basically, all the internationally recognized shopping outlets your heart could possibly desire. Selfidges on Oxford Street is an upscale department store which is jam-packed with all the latest designer collections, toys, gifts and more. You can visit designer flagships all around the area, including Prada, Gucci, Cartier and DOLCE & GABBANA on Old Bond Street. Not to be missed is the world-famous Hamleys on Regent’s Street for those with kids! 

Royal parks

There are three royal parks which fall inside the City of Westminster: Hyde Park, St James’s Park and Regent’s Park. All three of these will satiate any hunger you have for nature, given that there is about 324 hectares of it between the three of them! Between Hyde Park Rose Garden and The Japanese Garden Island in Regent’s Park, you would struggle to run out of beauty to admire. Be sure to check each park’s schedules online to see whether there are any events lined up. For instance, Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park is a yuletide treat, and Taste of London in the Summertime is perfect for food-lovers. 

[etoileholland]

wrapped in red | chapter 1; oh holy night, I’m alone tonight

Tom Holland x reader series

summary; two Christmases ago, while you were working your usual seasonal job at a holiday gift wrapping shop, Tom came rushing in at the last second to have some last minute presents wrapped. As time went on, he quickly became enchanted by you, and was soon wrapped up in your life, and you his. However, things would take a turn for the worst when someone from your past emerges, causing your relationship to unravel. Could it be salvaged, or was this romance destined to live in Christmas past?

this story will contain; fluff, with some angst sprinkled in

warnings for this chapter; none

word count; 3.2k

a/n; here it is! I’m beyond excited for this series to debut, I’ve poured a lot out into this series as a whole so I really hope you enjoy ❤ if you’d like to be tagged in upcoming chapters please let me know!

Christmas: a day that’s usually associated with love, cheer, and magic. A day that’s loved by many people all around the world, a day that brings people together, a day wrapped with hope.

Christmas used to be one of your least favourite holidays, until very recently, that is. For you, Christmas was filled with awkward and tense family dinners, with loneliness, underlying anger, and hopelessness.

Until one unsuspecting Christmas, two years ago.

//Two year ago//

You were working your seasonal job at a gift wrapping shop on Oxford Street. It was a fairly easy job, with little to no stress. That is, except for the occasional client who would complain about the prices. Other than that, it was a pretty nice job. The hours were flexible, and your boss allowed you to do coursework when there were no customers in the shop, which was nice since you were in your second year of university.

Today was Christmas, and just like last Christmas, you were working alone tonight. It was fairly slow today, with only the occasional last minute shopper popping in since everyone was at home celebrating with their loved ones. And since you were the only person who didn’t have a family, you had to work. It’s pretty depressing when you sit and think about it, but it’s true, you didn’t have a family like your boss and coworkers do.

You only had about ten minutes left until closing time, so to pass the time, and to take your mind off the fact that you were completely and utterly alone, you were sitting at your workstation, reading your favourite book. You were so engrossed in your make believe world when you heard the bell above the door ring, signaling that a customer had entered the store.

Sitting up in your seat, you closed your book and pushed it to the side. You looked up to see a boy rush in, a boy that seemed around your age. His cheeks were slightly frostbitten, and there were small snowflakes sprinkled on his hair. He was carrying a tall brown paper bag in one hand, his phone in the other. He knocked the snow off his shoes on the doormat, and when he was finished, swiftly walked over to you. When your eyes met, he gave you a small yet rushed smile. 

“Hi,” he let out an exhale, shaking the rest of the snow off his coat, “Is it too late for me to have a few things wrapped?” He set the bag on the counter carefully. “I just got off a flight back here from Spain and I bought these presents before the flight since it was laid over, but I was in such a rush I forgot to buy wrapping paper and no one else is open to wrap gifts and I’m under a tight time constraint.” He spoke so quickly that he was out of breath, his face turning redder by the second. “Can you please help me?” He looked at you with pleading eyes, and a small quiver in his voice. You could tell that it seemed he was on the verge of tears, “Please?”

Sliding the bag closer to you, so that you could peer inside, you mentally counted how many items needed to be wrapped. There seemed to be around ten things inside the bag, which would take some time, but it could be done. You looked up at the boy, who was looking back at you with pleading eyes.

“Of course I can help you, that’s what I’m here for.” You smiled at the boy, and a smile beamed across his face.

“Really?” He asked, “it wouldn’t be too much trouble for you?”

You shook your head. “No, I promise not at all.” Taking the gifts out of the bag, you carefully laid them all out on the counter. There was something that was wrapped in a leather casing, two matching knitted jumpers, a book of piano sheet music, a cookbook, a small jumper that was either for a small child or a dog, a pair of AirPods, and lastly a vintage camera. He seemed to have good taste in gifts, for each item seemed handpicked, even though he said he was in a rush when he bought them.

“Not to pressure you,” he spoke up quietly, “but about how long do you think it’ll take you to wrap those?”

You pondered his question for a second, taking into account the multiple items he brought in. “So, this may take a little bit of time, maybe about 30 minutes?” You estimated, and judging from his facial expression, he seemed happy with the time frame.

“That’s fantastic, now as long as the London traffic isn’t too bad then I should make it home in plenty of time.”

You quickly glanced up at the clock on the wall, the time being five minutes after five. “By the time I’m done, I think you’ll have just missed the rush hour, so you should be good.”

“Thank you.” He flashed a quick smile at you. “And what time do you close?”

We already did, you thought to yourself. Since you didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was keeping you late, you instead said, “at 6, so don’t worry.” You gave him a reassuring, and hopefully, a convincing smile. When he smiled back, you knew that he believed you. Getting out of your chair and pointing to the wall that was lined with various gift wrap, you asked him which colours he would like.

“Red and gold, please.” He pointed to the crimson red colour, and the gold foiled paper. “Those two right there are my favourites.” Tearing off large sheets of paper, and grabbing a few varying sizes to accommodate each gift, you walked back over to your table, laying out the pieces of gift wrap.

“Do you have a preference for which gifts to be wrapped in a certain colour?” You asked, to which he nodded his head no.

Picking a piece at random to wrap first, you grabbed the gift that looked the most intriguing to you. It was a thin leather case, with two things etched into the leather, the word “Omega” and the numbers “007”. The case was heavier than it looked, and by the looks of it, seemed quite expensive. “It’s a watch.” He spoke up, “it’s for my mate Harrison. He loves James Bond, and watches, so when I heard that Omega released a limited edition James Bond collection, I knew I had to buy him one.” He held out his hand, palm faced up. Realising that he wanted you to hand it back to him, you placed it gently in his hands. You watched him open the leather bound case carefully, and you gasped when you saw the watch. It must’ve cost him a fortune, you thought. 

“I picked the watch that was designed after the one that James Bond wore in ‘No Time to Die’, since Harrison pointed out how cool the watch looked when he watched the film.” He closed the case, and handed it back to you so that you could wrap it. “I hope he’ll love it.” The boy added.

“He’ll definitely love it, I don’t see why he wouldn't.” You grabbed a piece of the gold gift wrap, and placed the gift on top of it. “The gold will go best with this, and it’ll also go with the theme, you know, like maybe an homage to the film ‘Goldfinger’.” As you wrapped the gift, you saw that Tom was watching your movements. He almost seemed entranced watching you wrap the gift up, his eyes wide. Even though your reference wasn’t totally correct, he half smiled anyway.

“I just realised, I completely forgot to get your name.” He looked up at your face, his brown eyes meeting yours. “I’m Tom.”

“Y/N.” You answered, giving him a small smile before resuming wrapping the gift. After a minute, the present was perfectly wrapped.

“Would you like a bow on it?” You asked, and Tom nodded his head yes.

“Yes please,” you reached underneath your workstation and pulled out a box of assorted ribbons.

“What colour?”

“Red for the gold packages, and gold ribbon for the red packages please.”

“Okay.” You held up a spool of velvet red ribbon, and he nodded his head in approval. You cut off a piece and wrapped it around the present, and finished it off with a bow.

“It’s beautiful, thank you Y/N.”

You looked up at Tom, who was beaming at you. “You’re welcome.”

The next gift you grabbed were the two matching jumpers that were folded loosely. Taking a second to fold them neater, you set them back on the table.

“Could you please wrap them in red paper?” He asked, and you hummed in agreement.

“Those are for my mum and dad, it’s been a tradition for me to buy them matching jumpers each year. It’s a funny story really.” He spoke, letting out a small laugh. “One year, I didn’t know what to get them, and the store I bought them at had a buy one get one free sale, and since that was the only design they had I bought two of them.” He smiled as he spoke, reminiscing about the memory.

As you wrapped the gifts, he told you who each present was for, as if you were familiar with the people he was describing. In a way, you were getting to know who each person was, the people who were near to his heart, without having met them. Hearing these stories made you feel close to Tom, even though you had just met.

“I bought the AirPods for my mate Tuwaine because he always steals mine.”

“Sounds like something my friend would do.” You joked, making him laugh at the comment.

“The cookbook is for my little brother Sam, since he loves to cook.” Tom stated, “He makes a mean shepherd’s pie, you should try it one day.”

You listened to him speak and tell stories of the person’s whose gift you were wrapping. Listening to him talk about his family made you feel less alone about the fact that your family was away this Christmas, only god knows where. You didn’t care though, you haven’t seen them since you were ten anyway.

“Can I try?” He asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. He was pointing to the red paper that was laying on the table. Pushing the gift wrap towards him, you watched as he wrapped, well more like attempted to wrap a present.

“It’s bloody awful, innut?” He asked, laughing while doing so. To put it nicely, it looked like a five year old did it, but it wasn’t the worst you’ve seen.

“I think it looks cute.” You said, “it’s the thought that counts.”

“You’re too nice.” He placed the present next to the other ones that you had perfectly wrapped. “Thank goodness I’m not the one working here, otherwise people would hate me and would demand a refund.”

“You’re just being too hard on yourself, it looks alright. Although it takes a lot of practice to get this good.” You playfully boasted, ending the sentence with a wink.

“Have you been doing this a long time?” He tilted his head up to look at you, and when his brown eyes met yours, you almost forgot what he has just asked you.

“Um, this is my second year doing this, but last year this location was in a mall, instead of here.”

“Ah, I see.” He answered softly. You were nearly done with wrapping his presents, and although you had just met this boy, you didn’t want this to end. Sure, he was keeping you late, but it’s not like you had somewhere else to be. You were intentionally wrapping the presents just a little bit slower than you usually do, not too much as to keep him later than he wanted to, but just enough to talk to him a little bit longer than you would’ve normally.

“That’s a vintage Polaroid camera.” Tom spoke up, pointing to the only present that was unwrapped. “My little brother Harry, who’s Sam’s twin by the way, loves photography. He’s been going on for ages saying that he wants this exact camera.”

You listened to Tom as you wrapped the box carefully, mentally cherishing the last few minutes you’ll get to spend with Tom.

From the sights of it, Tom was a lot calmer now that he’s spent the hour talking to you. When he first came in, he was beyond flustered, and his gaze was fixed to the clock on the wall. Now, he hasn’t looked at the clock since he first came in, almost as if he doesn’t have anywhere pressing to be.

When you finally finished, it was 5:54pm. As you gently placed the gifts into the brown paper bag that Tom had originally brought the gifts in, you quickly glanced up to see Tom looking back at you, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“Y/N, thank you so much for helping me out. Really, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here.” He placed his hand on the nape of his neck, rubbing it nervously. “And you finished in the nick of time, right before closing.”

Before you could stop yourself, your brows furrowed in confusion. You had forgot that you told him that you closed at 6 instead of 5, but you didn’t have to say anything, since your look of confusion gave you away.

“Don’t tell me, you were closed when I rushed in here.” He said remorsefully, as his hand played with one of the buttons on his coat. “Why didn’t you tell me I was keeping you late?”

You paused for a second to think of the best way to word what you wanted to say. “Well, I promise it wasn’t a problem. I don’t really have anywhere else to be anyway, and I could see just how badly you needed something good to happen today.” You shuffled over to where your jacket was hanging up, along with your bag. “I really wanted to help you out.”

Tom began to pull out his wallet when he asked, “how much will all this cost? I’m not very good at math, but looking at the prices-”

“It’s free.” You interjected.

“No, it’s not.” You watched as he pulled out a few £20 notes. “Would like 4 of these-”

You waved your hand in front of you. “Consider it my Christmas gift to you.”

“But-”

“Merry Christmas Tom.” You walked past him to close the shop up, closing the blinds and putting all the supplies away. When you finished, you carefully picked up the bag of Tom’s presents and handed it to him.

“You’re an angel, like my Christmas angel.” He stated. His eyes were soft as he looked at you, his pupils slightly dilated. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

You smiled softly at him. “It was no problem, now you should get going so you can be with your family.” You took a step over to the door, opening it for Tom and you to leave. The snow had let up a little bit, as it was now a small flurry. Tom stepped past you, standing as you locked the door behind you both.

“So,” Tom spoke up, “how are you going to get home?” There was some concern in his voice, and although he didn’t explicitly say it, you knew that he already cared about you.

“Oh, I’m just gonna walk home. I live about five minutes away from here.”

He turned his head to look over at you, his eyes searching your face to see if you were joking. When he realised that you were telling the truth, he shook his head. “I can’t let you walk home alone Y/N. It's cold, and dark out, and it’s dangerous for you to walk home alone.”

“I promise I’m fine, I’ve walked home alone from here many a time, it’s really just a short walk.”

“I can’t, not in good conscience at least. I want to walk you home.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Tom just shook his head. “I want to walk you home, I mean it.”

“I’ll be okay, you need to get home to be with your family tonight. I don’t have anyone to come home to.” When you said it out loud, you realised how depressing it sounded. At least I’ll be able to drink away my sorrows tonight, you thought.

Tom turned his head to look over at you, and then straight ahead. “I don’t feel good about you being alone on Christmas.” He was silent for a second, when suddenly a thought popped into his head. His heart began to race, and even though it was freezing out, his cheeks felt warm. “Why don’t you spend Christmas with me and my family tonight?”

You stopped walking, and placed your hand on top of his arm. When you saw his face turn red, you took your hand and placed it in your coat pocket. “Oh, no, no, no. I am not crashing your Christmas dinner.”

He let out a small laugh. “You wouldn’t be crashing it, darling. I invited you, there’s clearly a difference.”

You had to admit that him calling you darling made your heart race, you could get used to him saying that. “But your family won’t be expecting me, and what if your family gets mad because there’s not enough food for another person and-”

“It’ll be fine.” He took his free hand out of his coat pocket and grabbed your hand. “I already called an Uber and from the looks of it, I believe it’s already here.” He pointed to the car that was parked by the curb, the Uber logo visible in the window.

You stopped in your tracks again. “But I don’t know your family, what if you guys are like, I don’t know, murderers?”

Tom snorted out a laugh. “Trust me love, if I was a murderer, I would’ve killed you a long time ago. After all, it was just the two of us alone in the shop for a whole hour.” He was still holding your hand, shifting it so he could lace his fingers with yours. The two of you walked hand in hand towards the car, and when you were close enough, Tom opened the door for you. You buckled in the seatbelt, and a second later Tom was in the car doing the same.

“Merry Christmas Tom.” You looked up at him, smiling.

“Merry Christmas to you too Y/N.” He answered as he reached for your hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Maybe this Christmas won’t be as terrible as the others, you thought. Maybe things will be alright, you thought as you looked out the car window.

additional a/n; chapter two will be posted next week on 11/27! 

series taglist + regular taglist: @scarletxwidow​ @fangirlwithasweettooth​ @lmaotshollandd​ @musicalkeys​ @calltothewild​ @finelinesupremacy​ @quaksonhehe​ @geminiparkers​ @thenoddingbunny-blog​  @imperfxctly-me @wunder-13 @weirdowithnobeardo

[96harmony96]

Chapter one.

“We should head to a bar and celebrate.”

I wasn’t surprised by my roommate’s emphatic pronouncement. Cary Taylor found excuses to celebrate, no matter how small and inconsequential. I’d always considered it part of his charm. “I’m sure drinking the night before starting a new job is a bad idea.”

“Come on, camila.” Cary sat on our new living room floor amid a half-dozen moving boxes and flashed his winning smile. We’d been unpacking for days, yet he still looked amazing. Leanly built, dark-haired, and green-eyed, Cary was a man who rarely looked anything less than absolutely gorgeous on any day of his life. I might have resented that if he hadn’t been the dearest person on earth to me.

“I’m not talking about a bender,” he insisted. “Just a glass of wine or two. We can hit a happy hour and be in by eight.”

“I don’t know if I’ll make it back in time.” I gestured at my yoga pants and fitted workout tank. “After I time the walk to work, I’m going to hit the gym.”

“Walk fast, work out faster.” Cary’s perfectly executed arched brow made me laugh. I fully expected his million-dollar face to appear on billboards and fashion magazines all over the world one day. No matter his expression, he was a knockout.

“How about tomorrow after work?” I offered as a substitute. “If I make it through the day, that’ll be worth celebrating.”

“Deal. I’m breaking in the new kitchen for dinner.”

“Uh…” Cooking was one of Cary’s joys, but it wasn’t one of his talents. “Great.”

Blowing a wayward strand of hair off his face, he grinned at me. “We’ve got a kitchen most restaurants would kill for. There’s no way to screw up a meal in there.”

Dubious, I headed out with a wave, choosing to avoid a conversation about cooking. Taking the elevator down to the first floor, I smiled at the doorman when he let me out to the street with a flourish.

The moment I stepped outside, the smells and sounds of Manhattan embraced me and invited me to explore. I was not merely across the country from my former home in San Diego, but seemingly worlds away. Two major metropolises—one endlessly temperate and sensually lazy, the other teeming with life and frenetic energy. In my dreams, I’d imagining living in a walkup in Brooklyn, but being a dutiful daughter, I found myself on the Upper West Side instead. If not for Cary living with me, I would’ve been miserably lonely in the sprawling apartment that cost more per month than most people made in a year.

The doorman tipped his hat to me. “Good evening, Miss Cabello. Will you need a cab this evening?”

“No thanks, Paul.” I rocked onto the rounded heels of my fitness shoes. “I’ll be walking.”

He smiled. “It’s cooled down from this afternoon. Should be nice.”

“I’ve been told I should enjoy the June weather before it gets wicked hot.”

“Very good advice, Miss Cabello.”

Stepping out from under the modern glass entrance overhang that somehow meshed with the age of the building and its neighbors, I enjoyed the relative quiet of my tree-lined street before I reached the bustle and flow of traffic on Broadway. One day soon, I hoped to blend right in, but for now I still felt like a fraudulent New Yorker. I had the address and the job, but I was still wary of the subway and had trouble hailing cabs. I tried not to walk around wide-eyed and distracted, but it was hard. There was just so much to see and experience.

The sensory input was astonishing—the smell of vehicle exhaust mixed with food from vendor carts, the shouts of hawkers blended with music from street entertainers, the awe-inspiring range of

faces and styles and accents, the gorgeous architectural wonders…And the cars. Jesus Christ. The frenetic flow of tightly packed cars was unlike anything I’d ever seen anywhere.

There was always an ambulance, patrol car, or fire engine trying to part the flood of yellow taxis with the electronic wail of ear-splitting sirens. I was in awe of the lumbering garbage trucks that navigated tiny one-way streets and the package delivery drivers who braved the bumper-to-bumper traffic while facing rigid deadlines.

Real New Yorkers cruised right through it all, their love for the city as comfortable and familiar as a favorite pair of shoes. They didn’t view the steam billowing from potholes and vents in the sidewalks with romantic delight and they didn’t blink an eye when the ground vibrated beneath their feet as the subway roared by below, while I grinned like an idiot and flexed my toes. New York was a brand new love affair for me. I was starry-eyed and it showed.

So I had to really work at playing it cool as I made my way over to the building where I would be working. As far as my job went, at least, I’d gotten my way. I wanted to make a living based on my own merits and that meant an entry-level position. Starting the next morning, I would be the assistant to Mark Garrity at Waters Field & Leaman, one of the preeminent advertising agencies in the US. My stepfather, mega-financier Richard Stanton, had been annoyed when I took the job, pointing out that if I’d been less prideful I could’ve worked for a friend of his instead and reaped the benefits of that connection.

“You’re as stubborn as your father,” he’d said. “It’ll take him forever to pay off your student loans on a cop’s salary.”

That had been a major fight, with my dad unwilling to back down. “Hell if another man’s gonna pay for my daughter’s education,” Alejandro Cabello had said when Stanton made the offer. I respected that. I suspected Stanton did, too, although he would never admit it. I understood both men’s sides, because I’d fought to pay off the loans myself…and lost. It was a point of pride for my father.

My mother had refused to marry him, but he’d never wavered from his determination to be my dad in every way possible.

Knowing it was pointless to get riled up over old frustrations, I focused on getting to work as quickly as possible. I’d deliberately chosen to clock the short trip during a busy time on a Monday, so I was pleased when I reached the Crossfire Building, which housed Waters Field & Leaman, in less than thirty minutes.

I tipped my head back and followed the line of the building all the way up to the slender ribbon of sky. The Crossfire was seriously impressive, a sleek spire of gleaming sapphire that pierced the clouds. I knew from my previous interviews that the interior on the other side of the ornate copper-framed revolving doors was just as awe-inspiring, with golden-veined marble floors and walls, and brushed aluminum security desk and turnstiles.

I pulled my new ID card out of the inner pocket of my pants and held it up for the two guards in black business suits at the desk. They stopped me anyway, no doubt because I was majorly underdressed, but then they cleared me through. After I completed an elevator ride up to the twentieth floor, I’d have a general time frame for the whole route from door to door. Score.

I was walking toward the bank of elevators when a svelte, beautifully groomed brunette caught her purse on a turnstile and upended it, spilling a deluge of change. Coins rained onto the marble and rolled merrily away, and I watched people dodge the chaos and keep going as if they didn’t see it. I winced in sympathy and crouched to help the woman collect her money, as did one of the guards.

“Thank you,” she said, shooting me a quick harried smile.

I smiled back. “No problem. I’ve been there.”

I’d just squatted to reach a nickel lying near the entrance when I ran into a pair of luxurious black oxfords draped in tailored black slacks. I waited for a beat for the person to move out of my way and when they didn’t, I arched my neck back to allow my line of sight to rise. The custom three-piece suit hit more than a few of my hot buttons, but it was the tall, powerfully lean body inside it that made it sensational. Still, as hot as all that magnificent maleness was, it wasn’t until I reached the person's face that I went down for the count.

Wow. Just…wow. She sank into an elegant crouch directly in front of me. Hit with all that exquisite femininity at eye-level, I could only stare. Stunned.

Then something shifted in the air between us.

As she stared back, she altered…as if a shield slid away from her eyes, revealing a scorching force of will that sucked the air from my lungs. The intense magnetism she exuded grew in strength, becoming a near tangible impression of vibrant and unrelenting power.

Reacting purely on instinct, I shifted backward. And sprawled flat on my ass.

My elbows throbbed from the violent contact with the marble floor, but I scarcely registered the pain. I was too preoccupied with staring, riveted by the woman in front of me. Inky black hair shoulder length framed a breathtaking face. Her bone structure would make a sculptor weep with joy, while a firmly etched mouth, a blade of a nose, and intensely Emerald green eyes made her savagely gorgeous. Those eyes narrowed slightly, her features otherwise schooled into impassivity.

Her dress shirt and suit were both black, but her tie perfectly matched those brilliant irises. Her eyes were shrewd and assessing, and they bored into me. My heartbeat quickened; my lips parted to accommodate faster breaths. she smelled sinfully good. Not cologne. Body wash, maybe. Or shampoo. Whatever it was, it was mouthwatering, as was she.

she held out a hand to me, exposing onyx cufflinks and a very expensive-looking watch.

With a shaky inhalation, I placed my hand in hers. My pulse leaped when her grip tightened. Her touch was electric, sending a shock up my arm that raised the hairs on my nape. she didn’t move for a moment, a frown line marrying the space between arrogantly slashed brows.

“Are you all right?”

Her voice was cultured and smooth, with a rasp that made my stomach flutter. It brought sex to mind. Extraordinary sex. I thought for a moment that she might be able to make me orgasm just by talking long enough.

My lips were dry, so I licked them before answering. “I’m fine.”

she stood with economical grace, pulling me up with her. We maintained eye contact because I was unable to look away. she was younger than I’d assumed at first. Younger than thirty would be my guess, but her eyes were much worldlier. Hard and sharply intelligent.

I felt drawn to her, as if a rope bound my waist and she was slowly, inexorably pulling it.

Blinking out of my semi-daze, I released her. she wasn’t just beautiful; she was…enthralling. she was the kind of woman that made a person want to rip her shirt open and watch the buttons scatter along with her inhibitions. I looked at her in her civilized, urbane, outrageously expensive suit and thought of raw, primal, sheet-clawing fucking.

she bent down and retrieved the ID card I hadn’t realized I’d dropped, freeing me from that provocative gaze. My brain stuttered back into gear.

I was irritated with myself for feeling so awkward while she was so completely self-possessed. And why? Because I was dazzled, damn it.

she glanced up at me and the pose—she's nearly kneeling before me—skewed my equilibrium again. she held my gaze as she rose. “Are you sure you’re alright? You should sit down for a minute.”

My face heated. How lovely to appear awkward and clumsy in front of the most self-assured and graceful woman I’d ever met. “I just lost my balance. I’m okay.”

Looking away, I caught sight of the woman who’d dumped the contents of her purse. She thanked the guard who’d helped her; then turned to approach me, apologizing profusely. I faced her and held out the handful of coins I’d collected, but her gaze snagged on the god in the suit and she promptly forgot me altogether. After a beat, I just reached over and dumped the change into the woman’s bag. Then I risked a glance at the woman again, finding her watching me even as the brunette gushed thank-yous. To her. Not to me, of course, the one who’d actually helped.

I talked over her. “May I have my badge, please?”

she offered it back to me. Although I made an effort to retrieve it without touching her, her fingers brushed mine, sending that charge of awareness into me all over again.

“Thank you,” I muttered before skirting her and pushing out to the street through the revolving door. I paused on the sidewalk, gulping in a breath of New York air redolent with a million different things, some good and some toxic.

There was a sleek black Bentley SUV in front of the building and I saw my reflection in the spotless limo tinted windows. I was flushed and my brown eyes were overly bright. I’d seen that look on my face before—in the bathroom mirror just before I went to bed with a man. It was my I’m-ready-to-fuck look and it had absolutely no business being on my face now.

Christ. Get a grip.

Five minutes with Miss. Dark and Dangerous, and I was filled with an edgy, restless energy. I could still feel the pull of her, the inexplicable urge to go back inside where she was. I could make the argument that I hadn’t finished what I’d come to the Crossfire to do, but I knew I’d kick myself for it later. How many times was I going to make an ass of myself in one day?

“Enough,” I scolded myself under my breath. “Moving on.”

Horns blared as one cab darted in front of another with only inches to spare and then slammed on the brakes as daring pedestrians stepped into the intersection seconds before the light changed. Shouting ensued, a barrage of expletives and hand gestures that didn’t carry real anger behind them. In seconds all the parties would forget the exchange, which was just one beat in the natural tempo of the city.

As I melded into the flow of foot traffic and set off toward the gym, a smile teased my mouth. Ah, New York, I thought, feeling settled again. You rock.

I’d planned on warming up on a treadmill, then capping off the hour with a few of the machines, but when I saw that a beginners’ kickboxing class was about to start, I followed the mass of waiting students into that instead. By the time it was over, I felt more like myself. My muscles quivered with the perfect amount of fatigue and I knew I’d sleep hard when I crashed later.

“You did really well.”

I wiped the sweat off my face with a towel and looked at the young man who spoke to me. Lanky and sleekly muscular, he had keen brown eyes and flawless café au lait skin. His lashes were enviably thick and long, while his head was shaved bald.

“Thank you.” My mouth twisted ruefully. “Pretty obvious it was my first time, huh?”

He grinned and held out his hand. “Parker Smith.”

“Camila Cabello.”

“You have a natural grace, camila. With a little training you could be a literal knockout. In a city like New York, knowing self-defense is imperative.” He gestured over to a corkboard hung on the wall. It was covered in thumbtacked business cards and fliers. Tearing off a flag from the bottom of a fluorescent sheet of paper, he held it out to me. “Ever heard of Krav Maga?”

“In a Jennifer Lopez movie.”

“I teach it, and I’d love to teach you. That’s my website and the number to the studio.”

I admired his approach. It was direct, like his gaze, and his smile was genuine. I’d wondered if he was angling toward a pickup, but he was cool enough about it that I couldn’t be sure.

Parker crossed his arms, which showed off cut biceps. He wore a black sleeveless shirt and long shorts. His Converse sneakers looked comfortably beat up and tribal tattoos peeked up from his collar. “My website has the hours. You should come by and watch, see if it’s for you.”

“I’ll definitely think about it.”

“Do that.” He extended his hand again, and his grip was solid and confident. “I hope to see you.”

The apartment smelled fabulous when I got back home and Adele was crooning soulfully through the surround sound speakers about chasing pavements. I looked across the open floor plan into the kitchen and saw Cary swaying to the music while stirring something on the range. There was an open bottle of wine on the counter and two goblets, one of which was half-filled with red wine.

“Hey,” I called out as I got closer. “Whatcha cooking? And do I have time for a shower first?”

He poured wine into the other goblet and slid it across the breakfast bar to me, his movements practiced and elegant. No one would know from looking at him that he’d spent his childhood bouncing between his drug-addicted mother and foster homes, followed by adolescence in juvenile detention facilities and state-run rehabs. “Pasta with meat sauce. And hold the shower, dinner’s ready. Have fun?”

“Once I got to the gym, yeah.” I pulled out one of the teakwood barstools and sat. I told him about the kickboxing class and Parker Smith. “Wanna go with me?”

“Krav Maga?” Cary shook his head. “That’s hardcore. I’d get all bruised up and that would cost me jobs. But I’ll go with you to check it out, just in case this guy’s a wack.”

I watched him dump the pasta into a waiting colander. “A wack, huh?”

My dad had taught me to read guys pretty well, which was how I’d known the god in the suit was trouble. Regular people offered token smiles when they helped someone, just to make a momentary connection that smoothed the way.

Then again, I hadn’t smiled at him either.

“Baby girl,” Cary said, pulling bowls out of the cupboard, “you’re a sexy, stunning woman. I question any man who doesn’t have the balls to ask you outright for a date.”

I wrinkled my nose at him.

He set a bowl in front of me. It contained tiny tubes of salad noodles covered in a skimpy tomato sauce with lumps of ground beef and peas. “You’ve got something on your mind. What is it?”

Hmm…I caught the handle of the spoon sticking out of the bowl and decided not to comment on the food. “I think I ran into the hottest person on the planet today. Maybe the hottest woman in the history of the world.”

“Oh? I thought that was me. Do tell me more.” Cary stayed on the other side of the counter, preferring to stand and eat.

I watched him take a couple bites of his own concoction before I felt brave enough to try it myself. “Not much to tell, really. I ended up sprawled on my ass in the lobby of the Crossfire and she gave me a hand up.”

“Tall or short? Blond or dark? Built or lean? Eye color?”

I washed down my second bite with some wine. “Tall. Dark. Lean and built. green eyes. Filthy rich, judging by her clothes and accessories. And she was insanely sexy. You know how it is—some hot people don’t make your hormones go crazy, while some unattractive people have massive sex appeal. This woman had it all.”

My belly fluttered as it had when Dark and Dangerous touched me. In my mind, I remembered her breathtaking face with crystal clarity. It should be illegal for a woman to be that mind-blowing. I was still recovering from the frying of my brain cells.

Cary set his elbow on the counter and leaned in, his long bangs covering one vibrant green eye. “So what happened after she helped you up?”

I shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“I left.”

“What? You didn’t flirt with her?”

I took another bite. Really, the meal wasn’t bad. Or else I was just starving. “she wasn’t the kind of girl you flirt with, Cary.”

“There is no such thing as a girl you can’t flirt with. Even the happily married ones enjoy a little harmless flirtation now and then.”

“There was nothing harmless about this girl,” I said dryly.

“Ah, one of those.” Cary nodded sagely. “Bad boys and girls can be fun, if you don’t get too close.”

Of course he would know; men and women of all ages fell at his feet. Still, he somehow managed to pick the wrong partner every time. He’d dated stalkers, and cheaters, and lovers who threatened to kill themselves over him, and lovers with significant others they didn’t tell him about…Name it, he’d been through it.

“I can’t see this woman ever being fun,” I said. “she was way too intense. Still, I bet she'd be awesome in the sack with all that intensity.”

“Now you’re talking. Forget the real person. Just use ther face in your fantasies and make them perfect there.”

Preferring to get the girl out of my head altogether, I changed the subject. “You have any go-sees tomorrow?”

“Of course.” Cary launched into the details of his schedule, mentioning a jeans advertisement, self-tanner, underwear, and cologne.

I shoved everything else out of my mind and focused on him and his growing success. The demand for Cary Taylor was increasing by the day, and he was building a reputation with photographers and accounts for being both professional and prompt. I was thrilled for him and so proud. He’d come a long way and been through so much.

It wasn’t until after dinner that I noticed the two large gift boxes propped against the side of the sectional sofa.

“What are those?”

“Those,” Cary said, joining me in the living room, “are the ultimate.”

I knew immediately they were from Stanton and my mom. Money was something my mother needed to be happy and I was glad Stanton, husband #3, was not only able to fill that need for her but all her many others as well. I often wished that could be the end of it, but my mom had a difficult time accepting that I didn’t view money the same way she did. “What now?”

He threw his arm around my shoulders, easy enough for him to do because he was taller by five inches. “Don’t be ungrateful. He loves your mom. He loves spoiling your mom, and your mom loves spoiling you. As much as you don’t like it, he doesn’t do it for you. He does it for her.”

Sighing, I conceded his point. “What are they?”

“Glam threads for the advocacy center’s fundraiser dinner on Saturday. A bombshell dress for you and a Brioni tux for me, because buying gifts for me is what he does for you. You’re more tolerant if you have me around to listen to you bitch.”

“Damn straight. Thank God he knows that.”

“Of course he knows. Stanton wouldn’t be a bazillionaire if he didn’t know everything.” Cary caught my hand and tugged me over. “Come on. Take a look.”

I pushed through the revolving door of the Crossfire into the lobby ten minutes before nine the next morning. Wanting to make the best impression on my first day, I’d gone with a simple sheath dress paired with black pumps that I slid on in replacement of my walking shoes on the elevator ride up. My brown hair was twisted up in an artful chignon that resembled a figure eight, courtesy of Cary. I was hair-inept, but he could create styles that were glamorous masterpieces. I wore the small pearl studs my dad had given me as a graduation gift and the Rolex from Stanton and my mother.

I had begun to think I’d put too much care into my appearance, but as I stepped into the lobby I remembered being sprawled across the floor in my workout clothes and I was grateful I didn’t look anything like that graceless girl. The two security guards didn’t seem to put two and two together when I flashed them my ID card on the way to the turnstiles.

Twenty floors later, I was exiting into the vestibule of Waters Field & Leaman. Before me was a wall of bulletproof glass that framed the double-door entrance to the reception area. The receptionist at the crescent-shaped desk saw the badge I held up to the glass. She hit the button that unlocked the doors as I put my ID away.

“Hi, Megumi,” I greeted her when I stepped inside, admiring her cranberry-colored blouse. She was mixed race, a little bit Asian for sure, and very pretty. Her hair was dark and thick, and cut into a sleek bob that was shorter in the back and razor sharp in the front. Her sloe eyes were brown and warm, and her lips were full and naturally pink.

“camila, hi. Mark’s not in yet, but you know where you’re going, right?”

“Absolutely.” With a wave, I took the hallway to the left of the reception desk all the way to the end, where I made another left turn and ended up in a formerly open space now partitioned into cubicles. One was mine and I went straight to it.

I dropped my purse and the bag holding my walking flats into the bottom drawer of my utilitarian metal desk; then booted up my computer. I’d brought a couple of things to personalize my space and I pulled them out. One was a framed collage of three photos—me and Cary on Coronado beach, my mom and Stanton on his yacht in the French Riviera, and my dad on duty in his City of Oceanside, California, police cruiser. The other item was a colorful arrangement of glass flowers that Cary had given me just that morning as a “first day” gift. I tucked it beside the small grouping of photos, and sat back to take in the effect.

“Good morning, Camila.”

I pushed to my feet to face my boss. “Good morning, Mr. Garrity.”

“Call me Mark, please. Come on over to my office.”

I followed him across the strip of hallway, once again thinking that my new boss was very easy to look at with his gleaming dark skin, trim goatee, and laughing brown eyes. Mark had a square jaw and a charmingly crooked smile. He was trim and fit, and he carried himself with a confident poise that inspired trust and respect.

He gestured at one of the two seats in front of his glass and chrome desk, and waited until I sat to settle into his Aeron chair. Against the backdrop of sky and skyscrapers, Mark looked accomplished and powerful. He was, in fact, just a junior account manager and his office was a closet compared to the ones occupied by the directors and executives, but no one could fault the view.

He leaned back and smiled. “Did you get settled into your new apartment?”

I was surprised he remembered, but I appreciated it, too. I’d met him during my second interview and liked him right away.

“For the most part,” I answered. “Still a few stray boxes here and there.”

“You moved from San Diego, right? Nice city, but very different from New York. Do you miss the palm trees?”

“I miss the dry air. The humidity here is taking some getting used to.”

“Wait ’til summer hits.” He smiled. “So…it’s your first day and you’re my first assistant, so we’ll have to figure this out as we go. I’m not used to delegating, but I’m sure I’ll pick it up quick.”

I was instantly at ease. “I’m eager to be delegated to.”

“Having you around is a big step up for me, Camila. I’d like you to be happy working here. Do you drink coffee?”

“Coffee is one of my major food groups.”

“Ah, an assistant after my own heart.” His smile widened. “I’m not going to ask you to fetch coffee for me, but I wouldn’t mind if you helped me figure out how to use the new one-cup coffee brewers they just put in the break rooms.”

I grinned. “No problem.”

“How sad is it that I don’t have anything else for you?” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Why don’t I show you the accounts I’m working on and we’ll go from there?”

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Mark touched bases with two clients and had a long meeting with the creative team working on concept ideas for a trade school. It was a fascinating process seeing firsthand how the various departments picked up the baton from each other to carry a campaign from proposition to fruition. I might’ve stayed late just to get a better feel of the layout of the offices, but my phone rang at ten minutes to five.

“Mark Garrity’s office. Camila Cabello speaking.”

“Get your ass home so we can go out for the drink you rain-checked on yesterday.”

Cary’s mock sternness made me smile. “All right, all right. I’m coming.”

Shutting down my computer, I cleared out. When I reached the bank of elevators, I pulled out my cell to text a quick “on my way” note to Cary. A ding alerted me to which car was stopping on my floor and I moved over to stand in front of it, briefly returning my attention to hitting the send button. When the doors opened, I took a step forward. I glanced up to watch where I was going and green eyes met mine. My breath caught.

The sex god was the lone occupant.

[frangipansi]

Demonic Protector: Leviathan

Levi finally got his time for violence! Male MC this time round. I had to trendy outfits in my head and I couldn’t let either go to waste! As usual the warning of violence and gore.

~

It was, quite simply, one of the best weekends of Levi’s life. He and MC had been given permission to go to the human world and stay in a human hotel, so they could attend a comic convention. Not only had he painstakingly created three costumes for himself to wear, but MC had been equally ecstatic to have his own costumes created by him as well.

They matched their outfits for each day; Levi even won first place in an amateurs cosplay competition that MC had encouraged him to enter. He was so nervous, but with MC by his side; they walked the staged to showcase his beautifully crafted work. And people had liked his stuff. They liked it so much that he won first place! And MC; he believed Levi had the skill to win it too.

A full three days; filled to the brim with comics, anime, pop culture… and everyone, everywhere, was an otaku just like him. He fit in so easily. It just simply couldn’t get any better. But their time in the human realm was coming to an end and the two were on their way back to the hotel; to change and then come back down to go out for dinner. MC had been so encouraging, so accommodating and perfect, that Levi just wanted to treat him to something special; which meant dressing up nice and eating fancy food. He could do it for MC.

He even had to take a moment when MC was dressed and ready to hit the town; dark denim jeans and a pink shirt so soft in its tone, in certain light it could have been mistaken for white. With the sleeves rolled up to just below the elbows, tan oxfords and a leather bomber jacket slung over his shoulder; Levi was ready to melt entirely.

MC looked so perfect; Levi almost felt ashamed that he should be found standing beside him. In white trousers, dark grey turtleneck and a dark navy cocoon coat… he was nothing compare to MC. And yet, MC still closed the distance between the two; a smile on his face as he leant into him and pressed his lips to Levi’s.

He should have known better really. Nothing this good could come without a price.

The two of them walked down the side street after exiting their hotel; MC knowing the city well, took Levi’s hand into his and weaved through smaller streets and alleys to get to the main road they wanted quicker.

“What do we have here?” Levi heard just before a set of hands slammed down onto his shoulders. Yanked back and thrown to the ground without seeing what had happened to MC, he could only hope he was alright while rattling his brain on how to retaliate. After all, he was in the human realm and he knew he couldn’t just burst into demon form.

“Levi!”

When he looked up, shaking the thoughts from his mind; three assailants were quickly dominating MC; watching as one held MC’s jacket and knocked him to the ground, tossing the jacket aside as the second and third took turns slamming their boot covered feet into MC’s back and stomach.

Levi saw red; an anger surpassing any amount of envy he’s ever felt, instantly he burst into demon form and rushed the group, knocking two off their feet with his tail as he latched his claws around who he saw as the ring leader.

He sank his nails in, a satisfying snap of skin as blood trickled out of the humans neck and he wailed in pain, punching and clawing at Levi’s arm but he barely noticed as he spun around on the other two; had he not been so enraged at seeing them attack MC – his MC – he just may have been stunned to see two lesser demons standing before him.

His grip tightened around the begging human; the two demons realising who they stood before and dropped to their knees. “L-lord Leviathan…” one of them murmured.

Behind them, MC couching and gasping for breath pushed up on shaking arms and Levi saw a sting of blood pouring from MC’s mouth.

He stormed the two flinching demons, dragging the human behind him; stared them down before raising the human and slammed his other hand into his chest. And ripped.

High-pitched screams filled the air of the alley as Levi tore into the chest of the human; replaced with gurgling as Levi kept tightening his strangling hold around his neck. Within seconds, the human attacker went quiet as Levi threw him aside - chest horrifically torn open -  a handful of ragged throat still in his other hand before tossing it aside.

“God, Levi… what have you done?” MC choked before falling from his feet; watching as Levi coiled his tail around one of the demons neck and squeezed just as the other one leapt back and grabbed MC.

“I ain’t going back to Devildom… let me go, and you can have this human back,” the demon bartered as he took a step away from Levi, dragging MC with him; he didn’t seem to care as Levi continued to slowly squeeze the life out of his demon companion.

“You freed me from that human, so… maybe I can do the same?” he continued; noticing Levi’s pact mark peeking out from under MC’s rolled sleeve.

At those words; Levi’s tail squeezed so hard and suddenly that the attacker didn’t have a chance to scream, blood spurted from his eyes, nose and mouth. Levi hadn’t even let go by the time he had lunged to the other demon, coiling his claw-like fingers around his head and squeezed, MC again falling to the ground.

Levi couldn’t tell whether he could hear MC’s voice over the strained wails and crunching bones as he kept pressing until feeling a satisfying cave in; any scream cut off and blood, bone and brain burst out to the pavement and onto Levi.

He dropped both bodies, breathing heavily as he turned and looked for MC. “A-are you alright?” he asked as he hurried over to him; his demon form retracting.

Without thinking, MC scooted back from Levi as he reached out for him, coughing and spitting blood before trying to get to his feet as Levi recoiled from MC’s movements.

“Levi… Fuck… what have you done?” he looked to the lifeless bodies strewn around Levi; a heavy sickening pit forming in his stomach as he stared at the crushed skull of one of them. It was too easy to forget just how powerful and dangerous Levi could be; so easy to forget he was even a demon.

“I…” Levi fiddled with the hem of his turtle neck, cringing at the gory splatter across the material and not knowing whether he should even touch MC. It hurt so much to see him pull away; that he would rather struggle to get back up to his own feet despite being wounded, than let Levi help him.

“MC, I… I’m sorry. I got so scared… damn it… th-this is all my fault.” Levi could feel the tears well up in his eyes as MC kept his distance; as if almost regarding the demon before him. “I’m so sorry…”

He looked up when he heard shuffling; MC moving towards him before his legs gave out, Levi quick to close the distance and grab him. Relief washed over him when he felt MC’s hands wrap around his shoulders, fingers gently brushing through the hairs on the nape of his neck.

“You scared the shit outta me,” MC whispered as Levi held him tightly.

Levi had no intentions of letting him go now; terrified that MC would find the strength in himself to just run if Levi were loosen his hold. But he also knew he couldn’t keep MC here; he didn’t care about the death around him or how violent he had become… he just didn’t want MC near it anymore.

“Can you walk?” Levi asked. “Or… or s-should I uh, carry you?”

“Just help me, I… I think I can walk,” MC nodded; keeping one arm around Levi’s shoulders and felt him hold his waist firmly and began the walk back to the hotel.

Even though he hated that MC had to witness such a rage induced violence; part of him swelled with glee… he did that, protected MC against three assailants – two which happened to be demons – he almost wished it happened back in the Devildom. That way, everyone would know he wasn’t just a useless otaku and no one would even think of messing with MC. Not while he stood by his side.

[rocknrollarticles]

The Artwoods Story

The Artwoods’ 100 Oxford Street is a UK compilation album released in 1983 that features a four-page booklet (pictured above) that tells the band’s story, written by guitarist Derek Griffiths.

Since there's a limit on the number of photos that can be added to one post, I'll be reblogging this a couple times until I have all the info up. To see this post with all the info added in reblogs, click here.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy Derek’s words as much as I do!

Transcript under the cut (main text + Record Mirror article from page three's rightmost side)

“  It's difficult to pinpoint exactly when the Artwoods came into being because everything just seemed to evolve naturally. The one date however that does stick in my mind is the 1st October 1964 which is the date I turned professional, thus depriving the accountancy profession of a valuable addition to its ranks! But seriously, one must go back to previous events in order to trace the history of the group.

I first met Jon Lord at a party in West Hampstead when he was a drama student at The Central School of Speech & Drama. He was introduced to me by Don Wilson whose claim to fame was his membership of the famous skiffle group Dickie Bishop & His Sidekicks. They had had a hit years previously with "No Other Baby But You", and Don now ran a band on a semi-pro basis called Red Bludd's Bluesicians in which I played guitar. Well, I say we were called this, but only when we were fortunate enough to cop an R&B gig. We used to play The Flamingo Allnighter and lots of U.S. air bases. The rest of the time we played weddings and tennis club dances as The Don Wilson Quartet! Jon Lord was brought in on piano and was a very valuable addition especially as he could get his hands around a little jazz and all the old standards. Jon used to ring me at work and interrupt my vouching of sales ledger invoices in order to discuss the coming weekends gigs. We would bubble with excitement at the approach of an R&B gig as we really hated all the weddings and barmitzvahs.

Around this time Don made a very important policy decision and we suddenly became the proud owners of a Lowrey Holiday organ for Jon to play. Shortly after this Don contrived to drive the band-wagon into the back of a lorry on the North Circular, doing himself considerable mischief in the process. This brought about the unfortunate end of Don's career with us, but not before he had masterminded an important merger of two local bands.

For some time we had been aware, and not a little envious, of The Art Wood Combo led by none other than Art Wood himself. His band underwent a split at that time and Red Bludd's Bluesicians, alias The Don Wilson Quartet, were neatly grafted on. We really felt we were moving into the big league by doing this as Art not only had more work than us but, wait for it, used to sing with Alexis Korner's Blues Incorporated with Charlie Watts on drums and Cyril Davies on harmonica! The next problem was a replacement for Don, and this was solved by stealing the bass player from another local group The Roadrunners, a good looking cove who went by the name of Malcolm Pool. The offer and acceptance of the gig were transacted in a pub car park somewhere in West Drayton staring into the murky waters of the Grand Union Canal clutching pints of local bitter (Fullers?). (Authors note: drugs had not been invented at this stage, as far as most groups were concerned, apart from the odd pill to keep one awake on an all nighter!)

~

The next personnel change took place some time in 1964 and this involved the retirement of drummer Reg Dunnage, who did not want to turn pro. Auditions were held in London and lots of drummers attended. However it was more or less a foregone conclusion that Keef Hartley would get the job. You see we'd already decided that what The Artwoods needed above all else was a Liverpool drummer! Unfortunately none came to the audition, but Keef hailed from Preston which was near enough for us. Keef had previously played with Rory Storm & The Hurricanes, replacing Ringo Starr in the process (heady stuff this), and Freddy Starr & The Midnighters. Both were such influential bands of their time that these credentials combined with Keef's quasi Liverpool accent (at least to our ears) provided him with a faultless pedigree.

~

So that was it, the line-up that would take us through to 1967 when Colin Martin eventually replaced Keef Hartley on drums.

For a while we worked as The Art Wood Combo but then decided it was hipper to drop the Combo and become The Artwoods.

The period when The Artwoods were operating was one of musical change when groups went from recording and performing other writers' material to writing their own. In fact the last year of the group's existence was 1967 which heralded the arrival of "Hendrix", "Flower-Power". "Festivals" and experimental use of mind expanding drugs! 1966/67 were particularly exciting years to be based in London and every night would be spent in one of the many clubs which had recently sprung up. The Ad Lib, The Scotch of St. James, The Cromwellian, Blaises and of course The Speakeasy to mention a few. Many of these we played in and the trick was to be well known enough not to have to pay the entrance fee on nights off. Any night you could be sure to meet your mates "down The Speak" and it became the unofficial market place for rock musicians.

It was also the days before huge amounts of equipment took over. Equipment meant road-crew and trucks and in turn financial hardship. This simple equation has been the downfall of many bands over the years. We used to travel in a 15 cwt van together with all the gear-no roadies, just us. It's amusing to recall but after recording the TV show "Ready, Steady, Go" (in Kingsway in those days?) one would be besieged by autograph hunters on the way to the van with the gear. Even really 'big groups of the day like The Zombies would hump their own equipment and apologetically place an amp on the ground in order to sign an autograph! Because it was financially viable to travel to small clubs in this way, we would often average 6 or 7 nights a week, every week, on the road. A bad month would probably mean less than twenty gigs. This meant we were living, sleeping and eating in close, and I mean close, proximity. You really found out who your friends were.

The subject of equipment is an interesting one as it really distinguishes the bands then from those of today. The average pub band of today would carry more equipment than we did. As I've already mentioned we were quick to realise that we could elevate ourselves musically by investing in a proper electric organ as opposed to a Vox Continental or Farfisa that many groups used. Consequently the group purchased a Lowrey Holiday and we thought this alone would provide us with the Booker T and Jimmy Smith sound.

What we failed to realize was that we also needed a Leslie cabinet with a special built-in rotor to get that "wobbly" sound. Our friend and mentor Graham Bond, the legendary organist/saxophonist, was quick to point out the error of our ways one night when we were gigging at Klooks Kleek in West Hampstead. We groaned inwardly when we discovered the extra cost and humping involved, but it had to be bought. We were fortunate very early on to score a deal with Selmers, who provided us with free amps and P.A., but we had to make the trek to Theobalds Road once a week to get it all serviced as they were not as reliable in those days. I used a Selmer Zodiac 50 watt amp and Malcolm had Goliath bass cabinets with a stereo amp.

The P.A. comprised two 4 x 12 cabinets and a 100 watt amp! When we toured Poland we played in vast auditoria and linked our system with the Vox system being used on tour by Billy J Kramer & The Dakotas. This meant we were pumping out no more than 300 watts which is laughable by today's standards. Although it would never have compared in quality, I can remember standing at the back of extremely large halls and being able to hear clearly all the words Billy J sang. One day in 1963 Alexis Korner sent me off foraging in and around Charing Cross Road for a new guitar, with instructions to mention his name whereupon I would receive a discount of 10%. Previously I played a Burns Trisonic (collectors will appreciate this model did not have "Wild Dog" treble) but fancied owning a Gibson ES335 as favoured by many blues players. Sure enough one was hanging invitingly in the window of Lew Davis's shop.

I ended up paying £135 and still use it regularly today although its value has multiplied five fold. Malcolm came with me that day and bought an Epiphone bass, the same colour and shape as my guitar. For years we looked like matching book-ends on either end of the group! Keef started off using a Rodgers drum kit, but somewhere along the line changed to, I think, Ludwig. There was no out-front mixing as is common today, just the P.A. amp on stage with the vocalist. Primitive I know, but everything revolved around bands being able to travel economically with their gear and perform at small clubs anywhere in Britain. The college circuit was much sought after and provided the icing on the cake while package tours were not necessarily well paid. We did our first with P. J. Proby and got £25 per night (for the lot of us) and we had to pay for our own accommodation!

~

I have already mentioned "Ready, Steady, Go" a show on which we appeared on more than one occasion. The original format called for groups to mime to their records but after a time it was decided that it would become "live" and that the show would be re-titled "Ready Steady Goes Live". We were proud to be picked for the first "live" show and learnt the news via a telephone call to our agent in London from a phone box high in the Pennines. We managed a drunken war-dance of celebration round the phone box believing that this meant we'd really cracked it. As I remember the first show we did featured Tom Jones (complete with lucky rabbits foot) miming to "It's Not Unusual", The Kinks, Donovan and Adam Faith's Roulettes playing live (without Adam). We were promoting our first single "Sweet Mary" and I would put the date at around late 1964.

~

Our first recording deal was with a subsidiary of Southern Music Publishing called Iver Productions and I reckon that would have been mid 1964. Southern had a four track studio in the basement of their offices in Denmark Street ("The Street") and getting the gear downstairs, especially the organ, was "murder". Our first producer was Terry Kennedy and we recorded several tracks with him. Without going too deeply into all the details of recording techniques of the period, one tended to compensate for the lack of tracking facilities available, by attempting to duplicate the live excitement. In many ways it was a frustrating experience particularly for ambitious guitar-players. I was a Steve Cropper freak and I knew as a musician that a lot of his sound on record resulted from him working his amplifier hard in the studio— thus the speaker would emit the sound he was used to on stage. In Britain however, engineers would say "You don't need to play loud man, we can turn you up on the desk". The result was a weedy, thin guitar sound. From way back I'd been experimenting with "feed back" on stage and I really had to dig my heels in about the guitar sound in the studio. Once when I turned my amp up to give it a bit of "wellie" on a solo the engineer bounded out of the control room screaming that the level would bust his microphones!

~

Sometime during the career of The Artwoods it was decided that we should graduate to a better studio. This was arranged by Mike Vernon who also became our producer. Our records had all been released through the Decca Record Co. and Mike was a staff producer with them. Mike w also an authority on "The Blues" and the relationship led to our only single chart record "I Take What I Want" a cover of a Sam & Dave U.S. R&B hit. Mike was also producing John Mayall at the time and it seemed only natural that Mike and The Artwoods should team up. From this point on we recorded at the Decca studio in Broadhurst Gardens, West Hampstead, but I can't honestly say it did any more for us than our previous efforts in the Southern Music basement, although we could now indulge ourselves in the comparative luxury of the eight track studio. Later on, towards the end of the groups life we were signed by Jack Baverstock at Philips Records who was looking for a group to cash in on the thirties-style gangster craze which had been triggered off by the film "Bonnie & Clyde". As a result we changed our name to "St. Valentines Day Massacre" and released a single of the old Bing Crosby hit "Brother Can You Spare A Dime?" It was an ill- fated venture, which I would prefer not to dwell on, virtually signalling the end of the band apart from a few heavy-hearted gigs with a changed line-up.

~

Before that though, there were many great times to remember, and a fair number of gigs that were memorable in one way or another.

One of our favourite gigs was Eel Pie Island which we regularly played once a month; in fact we held the attendance record there for a while until the ageing blues artist Jesse Fuller took it from us. Eel Pie Island is literally an island in the middle of the River Thames at Twickenham and there's never been a gig like it since. It was an Edwardian ballroom originally I believe, that achieved notoriety in the 50's with the Trad Jazz boom. At that time, an overloaded chain ferry was used to convey the crowd across the river, but during the 60's a small bridge was in existence although it was only wide enough to take the promoter Art Chisnall's mini van. He had to make three separate trips across with the gear strapped to the roof and hanging out the back doors.

The audiences were exceptional for those times and I don't know where they all came from... very much like art students and very much more like the 70's than 60's. Long hair predominated and this was before 'hippies' had officially been invented! If you can imagine a ramshackle wooden ballroom, bursting at the seams, condensation pouring from the walls, the audience on each others shoulders leaping up and down, the sprung dance floor bending alarmingly in the middle, in the summer couples strolling outside and lounging on the river bank ... all this and not a disc jockey in sight! One other bonus was that it was a “free” house and therefore sold many different types of beer— we always favoured Newcastle Brown. Back on the 'mainland' afterwards it was always riotous packing the gear into the truck. I don't know how he managed it but one night Malcolm drove our truck over the support band's guitar which happened to be lying about, thus breaking the neck. I'll never forget the shocked look on that poor guitarist's face as Malcolm smoothly slipped the van into gear, apologised and drove off in that order!

~

No trip up north was complete without stopping at the famed Blue Boar on the M1 for a "grease-up" on the way home. I do not refer to truck lubrication but to a particular rock'n'roll delicacy known as “full-house”. This comprised double egg, sausage, chips, beans, tomatoes, fried slice, tea, and (if you were man enough) toast. It was considered a Herculean task to break successfully the 10 bob' (50p) barrier-all served on wobbly cardboard plates that doubled as items to sign autographs on for the self service waitresses.

Waitress: What band are you?

Me: You won't have heard of us.

Waitress: Oh go on, tell us.

Me: OK. The Artwoods.

Waitress: Never 'eard of you!

It was everybody’s dream to walk into the Blue Boar just as their hit of the moment was playing on the Juke Box.

~

One time we were chosen to represent the twentieth century at the centenary celebrations of the State of Monte Carlo— a most lavish affair which the aristocracy and dignatories of Europe attended. Princess Grace and Prince Ranier were the hosts and people like Gina Lollobrigida and the like were there. The ball was held in the famous Casino at Monte Carlo and we stayed in an opulent hotel called The Hermitage, I think. All I can remember is that we all had single rooms (a rare luxury) which were massive, and you could have pitched a tent under one of the bath towels, they were so big. After this we jetted off up to Paris where we played next door to the Moulin Rouge at a club called The Locomotive.

Whilst we were there we were taken out by our friend Mae Mercer, the American lady blues singer who we backed in England. She lived in Paris and took us out to Memphis Slim's club where we all set about drinking like it was going out of style. At the end there was an embarrassing scene concerning the bill with the result that Mae ended up in tears. Whilst we were bumbling about in an alcoholic stupor, an upright looking gentleman put his arm round Mae to comfort her and a wallet appeared magically from his inside pocket. Without further ado the bill was despatched and we later learned that our anonymous benefactor was none other than Peter O'Toole who was busy in the street outside filming 'Night Of The Generals' and was an old buddy of Mae's.

~

One Boxing Day we loaded up with turkey sandwiches and Xmas pudding and headed off for a gig down in Devon or Cornwall somewhere. We arrived to find the club closed and boarded up, and as usual we were broke. Naturally we were livid, checked into an hotel and located the promoter who lived with his mum. Next morning we drove round to where he lived and burst our way past his confused mum. We found him in his bedroom nervously cowering against some fruit machines which he collected. He had no money so we forced him to empty his damned machines with the result that we drove back to London with 50 quids' worth of 'tanners' (approx 22p for the younger reader!)

Whilst on the subject of disasters I suppose I am duty bound to mention Denmark. The first time we went there we caught the ferry to the continent, drove up through Germany, then caught another ferry to Denmark. There was no promoter to meet us when we arrived so all we could do was drive to Copenhagen and check in at the Grand Hotel. It cost us an arm and a leg but at least we got a good nights sleep after being awake for nearly two days travelling. The next day we made a few phone calls and finally tracked down the promoter. He said: "Didn't you get my telegram cancelling the tour?" We politely said no we hadn't and what did he intend doing with us? He checked us into another hotel (cheaper of course) and set about booking us at places that were similar to English coffee bars and youth clubs. We made enough to survive on and paved the way to more successful tours of that country. In fact by now we had Colin Martin on drums and were pursuing a much more adventurous musical policy and writing our own material. It was just right for Denmark who had taken Hendrix to their hearts to name but one, and we subsequently became quite big there in 1967.

The Artwoods achieved modest success-a minor hit single in "I Take What I Want", but we worked constantly, travelled abroad, had fantastic fun and made a living doing so. We had seven single releases, one album, and one EP, and we broadcast both on radio and TV many times. We did stage tours such as the P. J. Proby tour and covered most aspects of "show-biz" apart from actually making a movie. It was the era when bands still had to prove themselves as a live act before being offered a recording contract. now frequently happens of course that an act can become huge record sellers without so much as venturing to do a live gig.

~

So what happened to everyone? Well Art returned to his former occupation as a commercial artist and finds some time to fit in free-lance work between accompanying brother Ron Wood on raving excursions between Rolling Stones gigs. Malcolm moved into the same field as Art and they now work in the same building. Both of them gig occasionally on a semi-pro basis although Malcolm spent some time playing with Jon Hiseman's Colosseum and Don Partridge in the early 70's. Jon Lord became famous with Deep Purple and Whitesnake as did Keef Hartley with John Mayall and various bands of his own. Colin Martin is now a BBC Radio producer of repute. I played in various bands such as Lucas and The Mike Cotton Sound, Colin Blunstone's band, Dog Soldier (with Keef again), before I somehow drifted into studio and theatre work. Recently I formed an R'n'B band called the G.B. Blues Company, and it's great to be back on the road again.   ”

Derek Griffiths.

Clipping from Record Mirror on June 5, 1965, by Norman Jopling.

“We aim to excite!” … say the Art Woods

Just for the record, the Art Woods aren't a part of Epping Forest. In fact they're a group of five interesting young men, named after the group's leader Art Wood. They also happen to be one of the most realistic groups on the scene.

For a start, they are the awkward position of having a large following, a club residency but no hit record. Secondly. they don't mind pandering to commercial tastes, even though they have been hailed as one of the most authentic R & B groups in the land.

NO PULL

“But authentic R&B just isn't pulling the crowds any more,” says Art. “The audiences want to be excited, not to be lectured on what is 'good' and what is 'bad'. Although there was a time when you could spend half an hour on one number with long solos by everybody, it didn't last long. And although there are some clubs like that still, most of them want something fresh and new.

“And we try to cater for them. We like authentic R&B, but we also like playing everything and anything else. So far, our two discs haven't meant a light. Of course we'd love a hit. But we're lucky enough to make a good living without one.”

DISCS

The Art Woods latest disc is "Oh My Love" and the one before that “Sweet Mary”. Of them Little Walter has said that he couldn't believe any white group could sing and play the blues like they do.

Line-up of the group is Art Wood, leader. vocalist and harmonica. Derek Griffiths, lead guitar, Jon Lord, organ and piano. Malcolm Pool— base guitar, and Keef Hartley on drums. The boys use a specially adapted Lowrie organ, and get a sound that's really different.

But even if the boys sometimes become depressed about no hits records, they should remember groups like Cliff Bennett, the Barron-Knights, the Rockin' Berries and the Yardbirds, and how long THEY waited before they had a hit!

N.J.

[alexsmitposts]

Shifting Business Models of Higher Education I suspect some colleges and universities will go under in the wake of COVID 19, as they faced with bankruptcy and are having to deal with lower enrollments too. It might be a good time for military recruiters, at least in the US. The capitalist model is in dire straits, some claim is even falling, especially the business model for higher education. But it is it really worth obtaining higher education, especially now. Tuition and other costs are high and the job market is restricted, and why pay top dollar for distance learning? Against this backdrop, President of Brown University, Christina Paxson, recently wrote in the New York Times that reopening universities in the fall should be a national priority. After all, students face practical, financial, and psychological barriers when it comes to remote learning; the sector provides about 3 million jobs, and education spending pumps near $600 billion into the national GDP. The basic business model for most colleges and universities is simple — tuition comes due twice a year at the beginning of each semester. Most colleges and universities are tuition-dependent. Remaining closed in the fall means losing as much as half of our revenue. Going deep in debt for it! One friend who is completing an MA degree wrote to me, “I am working from home at a Midwestern university has not yet re-opened. Don’t know what the future will hold – the university must take a $5 million budget cut this fiscal year and another $25 million budget cut next fiscal year (beginning July 1st). Don’t know yet how they are going to do it – some talk about early retirements but if they don’t get enough “takers” then probably layoffs.” Recent history, especially in a US presidential election year has many people and policymakers asking hard questions. It is becoming clear that anyone keeping up with U.S. higher education in recent months will see that the sector is bracing for disaster with application dates coming, usually by May. Students and parents are both stressed out over how to pay for it, especially at higher tier universities and in light of the reduction in family incomes due to unemployment and a slowed economy. One article makes it only too clear, A Global View of the Pandemic’s Effect on Higher Education, that university funding model that rely on international students for revenue will now have to brace themselves for tough financial times ahead and some are even in the danger of collapse because of travel restrictions. Nearly one-fifth of all international students study in the United States, and of our total enrollment, they makeup around 5 per cent and contribute over 44 billion to the US economy. These students usually pay full tuition, which can average over 35,000 USD a year and another USD 15,000 to USD 20,000 as living expenses. Many funding models depends largely on foreign students to balance their books as they pay full tuition, and are less likely to be funded by scholarships and other university resources. The paper chase impacts many segments of the economy, for instance, the University of Kentucky, this past year, landlords got big dollar signs in their eyes and jacked up rent twice and triple-fold, as student enrollments were at a record high. Now that they kicked out some of their renters, when their leases were up, demanding higher prices, and now they are losing money; tongue in cheek, it serves the greedy pigs right. Karl Marx Lectures There is hidden karma with capitalism too. Greedy landlords (at least sometimes) get their asses kicked when recession comes from around the corner without warning. One landlord kicked out a friend of mine, who had to move in with his girlfriend at his house. He has two kids. He’s good at repair and even remodeling houses and apartments, so that landlord doesn’t know what he lost…and now I don’t think he’ll be able to get double-rent payers. Just a few weeks before the shutdown, real estate was at a feverish all-time high. Houses prices were sky-high, all 1/4-million-USD in Lexington, and selling immediately. A friend in real estate was trying to push me to buy (but buy what? with what income?)–he said people were snapping them up as soon as they went to market. I knew it was all going to crash and burn and told him that I’ll only buy (and I’ll only be able to afford to buy) when there’s blood on the streets. That may be coming soon if jobs don’t return, and I doubt they will anytime soon. All Things Considered Things could definitely be worse, however for most, despite inconveniences, all things considered with some social benefits and support from government. They have their classes, or work on campus as teaching assistants; they have their stipend, many graduate students, and the supermarkets nearby have plenty to eat. Some have to teach from home, the social life and campus activities have come to an abrupt halt. Many teaching and professional qualification examinations have been cancelled in light of the circumstances, and this may cause extra problems later on when tests results are needed and graduates must come back and sit for them. COVID-19 has indeed hit institutions of higher education unexpectedly, as it has all colleges and universities across the United States and World. It came for many right around spring break – students were asked to consider not returning, and then were told outright that that would be it for the semester, much unexpected, very awkward, and especially worrisome for two populations. One is international students. This came up as an issue across the country. Where could foreigners turn in such circumstances? Some had flown home, and had to accustom themselves to remote participation during uncomfortable time zones. Some received special permissions to stay on campus. And some were not able to come back because of shutdowns in flights and over public health concerns. A lot of creativity has gone into handling this point. The second is graduating students. Unfortunately, their final weeks as students, with all the rituals that entail – from parties to formal ceremonies – all went in another direction. It must be emphasized that universities have been accommodating and have kept the interests of their students at the forefront. Normal job fairs are not being held on campus, as before, and the recruitment of new blood is another issue that will affect the business community. At the same time, there is only so much a university can do if it is constrained by public health concerns, budgetary restrictions, and government orders – more so when one considers public universities, and private universities and colleges of size and a scale. A professor was sharing some thoughts the other day (via Zoom, of course) about the model of the university going forward. It will be a different experience for future generations, he speculated, with mixed methods of teaching and learning. The classic seminar of sitting around a table and discussing may go out of style. Another professor contended that her experience coming into a university and making personal connections around a table was what changed her life. There will be a lot of discussions like this about the trade-offs in style and substance in the coming months, possibly years. Financial models of universities will probably have to be re-imagined, for better or for worse. What is of immediate concern is how to move forward in the fall. Most are working to publish their plans, at least contingency plans by mid-June. Presumably, other universities, other than the earlier examples, are going along the same pace as well in order to give enough lead time to prepare, both for themselves and for their students, faculty, and staff. Students too are reconsidering the opportunity costs of even attending a university. Some are opting to stay closer to home and pursue degrees on a part-time basis and continue with their lives the best they can during uncertain times. Education, like many other institutions, has become nothing but another huge over-bloated scam and the return on investment is not as much as it is touted. The situation that is described here is not limited to the US or a specific region of the world. The main problem when it comes to UK universities is that the crisis had already started years ago, and all of this madness adds up to previous issues. The Oxbridge model is immensely expensive, and the main ways to sustainability – research funders, international students, the endowment, the press, executive education, and commercial activity – will all decline at a time when their costs will increase. As you probably know, in 2017 Oxford exposed itself to 100-year bonds for GBP 1 billion to avoid privatization; it worked, and they raised the debt to 3 billion. However, a shift in conditions will make the interest rate higher – how do you pay when things go wrong? It is just impossible to take on more debt, for students and institutions of higher education alike. Going on the market is a short term fix but not a solution. Conversely, the most flexible and affordable universities in Europe are those like the Open University (or Oxford, which has earned a reputation with online learning, and has even more potential) and will continue and improve their performance. Others are investing a lot in distance learning, such as Exeter. However, the terrible combination of the COVID emergency plus Brexit (ergo, losing the generous EU funds for research as well as the most skilled European students and lecturers) will make British Universities empty, and go bankrupt. UK Universities make money with post-graduate overseas students since Chinese and Asian people come here with very little English (not to say about their study skills) but willing to pay a fortune to get a piece of paper. Once back home, they can spend their qualifications very easily and get high positions. If students don’t come or go somewhere else, the whole system fails. There are several things UK and international universities can do, one is the Nottingham University Modelo, which has opened branches overseas. And instead of running after learners to come to the UK, learners can find branches close to home. Another option is to create partnership with other institutions so that they can add cherry onto the cake. For instance, additional lectures or certificate programmes, or by providing summer programmes around the world. Another one is aiming at blended programs, which is quite hard since the competition from European universities will become unbearable. In countries such as the Netherlands, Germany, Belgium or Austria you can find some of the best institutions in the world with a spotless reputation (I am thinking, for instance, to Groningen or Berlin) which are nearly free! How can you compete with that? It’s looking grim on enrolment but to be honest, we are all just waiting to see how many show up. A major challenge is international students – embassies are just not going to process visas. So we will have students who will be stuck here in the US and many who won’t be able to get here. It’s going to be a very large loss on top of lower domestic US numbers. I suspect many students will take a gap year and see what transpires rather than do more online courses. For me, this situation is a real opportunity to radically rethink society. From that, I realize we need to really look at future-proofing and building a truly resilient society. Just like after WW II there was a progressive and radical rebuilding of society, and I think that’s what is needed now- a few bailouts will not be enough It looks that we know what to do but the leadership is lacking. I think the idea that after all of this madness there might be a restart is shared by many, but is misleading at the same time. Provided that giving things another go makes sense, we have to remember that one thing is a contingency and one is the social system we are all in – something that is very difficult to modify in the short term.

[belldzarev-blog]

hosted bar at a club

The diversity of ethnicities and cultures in Leicester makes it one of the most varied and vibrant cities in the country. The substantial Asian community has brought with it many interesting events which the city enjoys supporting. Complementing the traditional Christian festivities Leicester now also celebrates festivities such as Holi, Diwali, Eid-ul-Fitr and of course the Chinese New Year.

Bars and Pubs:

Partly due to it having two large universities close by the city centre, Leicester city's bars and clubs are numerous and give a thriving and pulsating feeling to it. Bar and club names can change quite frequently, but this helps to keep the sense of vibrancy in the city in that there is always something new on offer. The Firebug is probably as complete a pub experience as you can get anywhere. The NME student guide for 2005 described it as "A real find for blinding food, beer, tough pub quizzes and lots of live music." Here there is food to complement the 157 drinks lines they sell, regular live music, access to 'WiFi' throughout the premises and Pub Quizzes. Firebug is on Millstone Lane between the Council Offices and the old Town Hall. The Bambu, on the Welford Road below the Council Offices, 호빠 describes itself as a relaxing café lounge bar blending mystery and sophistication without pretence. The Aqualounge on Wellington Street, more or less opposite the Council Offices is a bar, club and restaurant on 3 floors in one building, with Wednesday, Friday and Saturday nights being the club nights. Moving away from the area around the Council offices, in Braunstone Gate, there's the Loaf which styles itself as a pub to 'loaf around in', slow-down, have a drink and let the world go by. If you want a traditional city centre pub, then head for the Globe on Silver Street. Built in 1720 it serves fine draught ales, decent food and has a warm and charming atmosphere.

Restaurants:

There is in Leicester what is known as the 'Golden Mile' of Asian food, to which people are drawn from miles around for a truly authentic Asian eating experience. The Golden Mile is centred along the Belgrave Road, leading north out of the city from the Haymarket bus station. Some people would say the nearer to the bus station a place is, the better the restaurant will be. Friends is an award winning Tandoori restaurant with main courses ranging from only £5 to £12. Nearby is Sanjay's Curry Pot which specialises in the Indian/Portuguese cuisine of the Goa region in India. It is one of the oldest established Asian restaurants in Leicester; prices for a main course are typically between £5 and £13. Moving away from the Belgrave Road and into the city centre, there is the Opera House, which is by the Cathedral in Guildhall Lane. This is well known for its imaginative menus and the sumptuous building in which it is housed. Alongside the market in Hotel Street is The Case, another stylish and contemporary restaurant, which also has a champagne bar in which you can order snacks and light meals. Although technically a bar and restaurant, Mobius, on Braunstone Gate, serves an excellent mix of Mediterranean and Thai cuisine. It's a relaxing place to eat and produces authentic flavours for the regional food it produces by using only the best produce.

Entertainment:

The De Montfort Hall is probably the best known venue Leicester has, almost a 'trade-mark' venue for the city. Built in 1913 and recently refurbished, it can accommodate an audience of 1500 seated or up to 2200 standing. As well as the indoor hall there is an outdoor amphitheater that can house up to 5000. It has played host to classical, jazz, blues, folk, rock and pop music as well as being a venue for touring musical shows. In recent years it has also been increasingly used for conferences and exhibitions.

The Haymarket theater in Leicester was one of the well known repertory theaters in the country. Closed at present, a new theater is currently being built on Halford Street which is due to open in spring 2007. However, complications in the building programme look as if that opening date will now be postponed.

The Phoenix Arts Centre on Newarke Street is a small community venue providing a wide variety of entertainments. It is mainly used for showing films and hosting touring comedy and musical acts. However, it can also be used for theatrical plays and musical productions. There is, of course, a café/bar, which also hosts musical performances.

For live music, apart from at the De Montfort Hall, The Charlotte on Oxford Street is probably the biggest and best known. A fledgling Oasis played here many years ago! This is the venue in Leicester where you'll first see the up and coming 'Indie' bands.

There are currently some 13 nightclubs to choose from in Leicester. Worth mentioning here is the Po Na Na, which apart from its interesting name, is well known for being the place to go for Funk and House music. Two floors with two separate sound systems make this a savvy and party spirited place to be. Po Na Na is in Carey Close near the Jewry Wall.

[writingdotcoffee]

#87: A Walk From the Library

The traffic is heavy at Midland Road when I saunter out of the large iron gate at the back of British Library and join the small crowd at the junction, waiting for the green man. The tube station is around the corner. I could catch a train and be home in 45 minutes. But today, I go straight past it and head into the quiet side streets of Bloomsbury. I’m going for a walk.

After several miserably cold and rainy April days, the weather is finally turning for the better. It’s almost 8 p.m. The sun is about to set, imbuing the pale blue sky with a gradient of orange and red. The trees have sprung fledgeling leaves that will soon fill their majestic crowns. A young couple, probably students from the nearby UCL campus, walks past, holding hands, talking animatedly about their day.

At Judd Street, a barista flips a sign on the door of a cafe from open to closed and carries a blackboard sign with the day’s specials inside to be updated for tomorrow. Chairs are upturned on the tables inside the bistro next door which closed an hour ago. The city is slowly winding down.

My route takes me under a row of tall planes along the grey slab of concrete that is the fashionable Brunswick Centre. Amongst the townhouses of Bloomsbury, the shopping centre looks as if an alien ship landed in the middle of Victorian London. There goes an idea for a story.

I turn into a narrow passage which leads straight to Queens Square Gardens and lets me avoid the crowds at Russell Square. Then I round the corner into Great Ormond Street and carry on past the ubiquitous cast iron railings that set apart the pits of lower ground floor flats.

My mind is tired, and as I go, I let it wander wherever it pleases. I’m not in a rush. I’ve done my work for the day, and the leisurely walk with the sun setting behind my back is my reward. Sometimes, I listen to music or podcasts. Sometimes, I ponder ideas for stories or brainstorm new ones. Lately, walking from the library has been one of my favourite things to do.

The last golden reflections disappear from the windows on the highest floors. The sun has set, the sky becoming deeper, darker blue. The street lamps come on shortly and flood the pavements with yellow in perfect synchrony.

Lively conversation seems to be going on inside The Perseverance at the corner of Lambs Conduit Street. I don’t particularly fancy a drink today, so I head on. A runner overtakes me in Northington Street which is closed for traffic because of construction, but that’s really all that’s going on around this neighbourhood.

It fascinates me how, if you take the right turns, walking through the centre of one of Europe’s largest cities can be almost as serene as walking down a meadow. Tens of thousands of shoppers may be streaming down Oxford Street while you watch squirrels eating acorns in a deserted park two blocks away.

Somewhere in the distance, a faint howling starts. It’s not the police or paramedics, but it does sound urgent. I keep going, and it becomes significantly louder until it’s clear that it’s coming from a restaurant down the road which appears to be closed for the night. When I walk past the front door, I see a man outside with a backpack on, talking on the phone in distressed Italian. He’s the last man out, probably did all the cleaning, and they didn’t show him how to arm the alarm properly. Poor guy.

At Chancery Lane Station, where Grays Inn Road meets Holborn, the brindle-brick Georgian terraces with large sash windows become concrete and glass office blocks with cavernous lobbies made of polished marble and beeping security gates. Mainstream food chains replace the cosy independent cafes of Bloomsbury that wouldn’t be able to accommodate the throngs of office workers from the nearby high-rises during the lunch hour rush.

Soon, I’m walking past the sombre Old Bailey where Charles Darnay was tried for treason in Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities. Further down the road, the majestic dome of St Paul’s Cathedral looms above the glass facades of modern office spaces.

From there, I venture down Cheapside—a thoroughfare with boutiques on either side, selling suits and shirts to bankers. I imagine it’s anything but cheap. There’s a branch of Daunt Books across the street which I remind myself to check out every time I pass by and always forget. The buildings grow higher and flashier again. I’m in the skyscraper area where the lobbies are even larger with stone-faced security guards and a couple of automatic revolving door. When someone rents an office up on the highest floor, they clearly mean business. The views must be incredible.

Several new buildings are under construction around here at any given time with huge cranes towering above them. The sound of grinding and hammering echoes along the backstreets. Although it’s dark and getting late, the builders will be working until dawn, and the workers sweep in like high tide once again.

I've been walking over an hour now. At Old Broad Street, I take my final turn towards Liverpool Street Station. I saunter across the pleasantly quiet concourse and make my way to the platform to catch a train home.

Inside the carriage, people watch Netflix on their phones and scroll down their bottomless Instagram feeds. Even though my eyes are closing, I’m on my phone too, typing up the first draft of this story, hoping that one day, I’ll be able to look back at all the work I’ve done today and see it one of the thousands little stepping stones that eventually led to something bigger.

Hope is all I’ve got.

What I Am Reading

I’m near the end of Amy E. Weldon’s The Writer’s Eye. The author, who is a Professor of English at Luther College, touches on a range of topics including observation, descriptive writing, drafting and editing. There’s the occasional tangent, but nothing prohibitive. Overall, it felt quite advanced, and I would only recommend it to writers with some experience to get the most out of it.

On the side, I’m also reading a collection of short stories by William Gibson called Burning Chrome. The cover is freaking me out a little bit, but the stories are great.

To be honest, I’m not even sure what I’ll be reading next. I have several candidates on my desk and will pick one at random. I’ll let you know next week.

Short Stories

I read these short stories this week:

Eleanor by Chuck Palahniuk

The Gernsback Continuum by William Gibson

Fragments of a Hologram Rose by William Gibson

How monkey got married, bought a house, and found happiness in Orlando by Chuck Palahniuk

The Belonging Kind by John Shirley and William Gibson

The Hinterlands by William Gibson

Red Star, Winter Orbit by Bruce Sterling and William Gibson

Want More?

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Past Editions

#86: The Person Behind the Story, April 2019

#85: Airplane Mode as a Way of Life, April 2019

#84: It’s an Excavation, March 2019

#83: The Bookshop Anxiety, March 2019

#82: On Regularity, March 2019

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

10 and 13 please please please 😌

@poppy27 and all who requested 10 and 12 here they are! I combined them since they are related. And a bonus slightly creepy but sweet Simon one.

and yes I’m still working on #13. That’s been the most challenging one so far!

10: What sorts of things would they give each other “just because”?

12: Which one likes to surprise the other with a lot of small random gifts?

1.

Baz

One of the particulars I noticed about Snow, that first night in our room, after the Crucible had encumbered me with him (burdened me with his mole-dotted skin, ordinary blue eyes, bronze dusted hair) was how few possessions he had brought to Watford with him.

Worn trainers on his feet. A scant number of ratty t-shirts. A few threadbare trackie bottoms. That fucking red ball.

That was it. Not another bloody thing.

It’s not like I brought much with me. Uniforms, text books, notepads, writing utensils—all were provided to us.

I’d packed some clothes. Pajamas, of course. A few favorite books. A tiny, contraband iPod Fiona had lent me the summer before (discreetly hidden in the depths of my closet, thanks to the Mage’s ludicrous ban on electronics.)

Over the years more items traveled to Watford with me. More books, naturally. Some family photographs (Mordelia was an exceptionally ugly baby) (She’s marginally better now) (it would be devilish hard to look any worse.)

By fifth year there were posters, meticulously confined to my side of the room. Some abysmal drawing Mordelia had made for me that I kept spelled to the wall. A whole shelf of books.

And Fiona’s old lava lamp, for the sheer ridiculousness of it (it was mesmerizing) (and retro) (and I liked to spell it different colours.)

Snow never added anything. Other than larger sizes of the items he’d brought with him initially. And a winter coat. A few nice jumpers, after he started spending Christmases with the Wellbeloves.

No personal effects. No books. No photographs.

At least he got rid of that fucking ball.

It took me years to understand. To realize he went into care every summer, wasn’t with the Mage as I thought. To recognize that he couldn’t afford or even really risk owning anything of value.

It was much the same when I helped him move into the flat with Bunce earlier this year (I did help, no matter what Snow says) (I supervised) (Someone had to.)

Most of their furnishings were tatty cast offs from Bunce’s family home.  Some mystical wall art that she had found in Camden. A mismatched selection of mugs and tableware. Typical uni apartment.

But Snow’s bedroom was so sparse. Just like his side of the room had been at Watford. A bed. A desk. A lamp on a rickety nightstand. A dresser with virtually empty drawers.

Blank walls.

It’s not like that now, no thanks to Snow.

It’s not like he doesn’t have money. Bunce finally convinced him to do something with that sack of leprechaun gold. I took him to a Normal bank, helped him open an account and the bank helpfully converted the gold to legal tender.

It’s a tidy sum. Enough for him to indulge himself a bit.

He doesn’t.

So, I do.

It started before he moved to London. Those weekends second term, when I would visit him at the Bunces.

When he was all long silences and thousand-yard stares.

I held his hand and tried to distract him. Dinner dates. Film nights. Clothes shopping.

I bloody adore taking Simon clothes shopping. He has no idea how fucking attractive he is. Buying him fitted shirts and tailored jeans is as much a gift to myself as it is to him.

I can’t help it.

I think of him when he’s not with me.

I’ll walk by a shop and see a shirt that reminds me of the color of his eyes.

Strolling through a bookshop I’ll find a title I actually think he might like.

A peculiar trinket will catch my eye at a street market and I know he’ll be captivated by it.

I buy them all for him.

Even my old lava lamp has taken up residence on his dresser.

Bunce says Simon’s room looks like a tatty shop stall from Spitalfields Market. It looks nothing of the sort. She’s prone to slanderous hyperbole.

What it looks like is home.

2.

Simon

I’m not sure what I love best about living in London. Rooming with Penny. Getting to see Baz every day (and most nights) (almost like when we were roommates) (but better.) Going to uni. Exploring the city. All the food.

The variety of food is astonishing. There’s posh restaurants and so many curry take-out shops. Neighbourhood pubs. All the street markets.

I don’t know if I like Borough Market or Camden Market best. Or Maltby Street. Or Brockley.

I love them all.

I’m only taking two classes per term this year. My therapist thought that would be plenty, with all that I’m trying to sort through right now. Uni’s been very understanding and accommodating about it all. My therapist sent a letter and spoke with the dean.

Professor Bunce mentioned Metropolitan first, when I was still living with them. Said she knew they had some pathway that wasn’t full-time to start.

But I think Baz’s father had something to do with it too. Baz had dragged me along, to their family lodge near Oxford, for a weekend visit soon after he’d left Watford.

I hadn’t really seen the Grimms much since I’d run away from them, the night the Humdrum had attacked Baz. The night I’d extinguished all the magic for miles around their home.

Well, I’d seen Mr. Grimm, at the Coven meetings investigating the death of the Mage. He’d not said much to me, just gripped my shoulder a few times and said “Simon” and nodded at me.

It wasn’t much. But it helped. Helped to know he didn’t hate me for the hole in Hampshire. For driving them all out of their home. For being with his son.

It was just a quiet encouragement, something I’d never expected from him.

But when Baz took me to Oxford with him, to tell his father he would rather be staked than go to uni there, to tell his father he was moving to London with me, I was anxious.

I was going bloody mental.

So of course, being me, I started babbling on at dinner about moving to London, living with Penny, our fourth floor flat, what my therapist had said about uni. Just nattering on, face turning red, hands shaking but unable to stop the fumbling words coming out of my mouth.

Baz, the prat, just looked at me with one eyebrow raised and a half-smile. Bloody twat. He could have cut in and stopped me any time.

Mr. Grimm looked a little glassy-eyed and Daphne had a fixed smile on her face. I finally took a large swig from my water glass and stopped talking.

“That’s … that’s very interesting to hear, Simon.” Mr. Grimm’s face was impassive. “Have you thought about where you might like to study?”

“London’s got so many options,” Daphne added helpfully.

“Uh, Professor Bunce mentioned Metropolitan. Said it’s got some flexibility, with part-time programs and such.” My face was flaming. Baz’s hand slipped into mine and I could breathe a little easier.

“I’m familiar with it. Sebastian is there, Baz. You remember him?”

And then they’d moved the conversation on and I’d slumped back in my chair and taken another helping of pudding.

But a few weeks after I applied to Metropolitan I received a letter from a Mr. Sebastian Palmer-Lloyd, informing me that I was approved for a part-time pathway and providing information on a scholarship he felt I was qualified for, if I filled out the appropriate paperwork.

I think Mr. Grimm arranged it all.

I haven’t dared ask him or attempted to thank him directly.

Baz said not to worry about it, when I asked him what to do. Said his father wouldn’t want me to mention it. He had an odd expression, when I told him about the letter. A distant, fond look.

I don’t think it was for me, though. I think he was thinking of his father.

So that’s how I ended up at London Metropolitan. With only two classes per term. I got that scholarship. I’ve got tutors and a foundation year advisor who stays in touch with my therapist and is surprisingly helpful to me.

Which means I’ve got a fair bit more free time than Baz and Penny.

Which is why I’m wandering through the market on this blustery Thursday. I’ve had a kebab and an ice cream so far. There’s a stand with baked goods that look wonderfully appetizing. Might take some home for later.

I’m strolling along, eyes darting from the food stalls to the art displays when I see the table across the way. The wind’s picked up and my ears are getting a bit cold. It’s not even the end of October. It’s shouldn’t be this blustery yet.

The table is covered with woolen hats and mittens and scarves. Bright colors, soft jewel tones, dark greys and browns. They’re soft and thick and look so very warm.

I don’t wear gloves much. Or hats. Get too hot still, even without the magic. I’m like a personal space heater, Baz says.

Baz gets cold. He’ll whinge about it tonight, how the temperature’s dropped today. But he still doesn’t do a bloody thing about it. Still wears his posh tailored wool coats, his thin leather gloves. He wears scarves but only because he thinks they make him look mysterious and aristocratic. He looks bloody gorgeous in them but I’ll not tell him that.

I will. I have. I can’t help myself.

Baz won’t wear a hat. He wore the boater at Watford because it was required (he loathed it) but once we didn’t have to wear them anymore he wouldn’t wear any type at all. Not even in the frigid depths of winter. Thinks they make his hair look bad, the tosser.

He’ll wear gloves but the ones he has now are useless. Thin leather ones, no good at keeping his fingers warm at all.  I should know. I hold his hand constantly.

I thought he had lined ones, when we were at Watford. I’m sure of it. I remember seeing him putting them on before he’d go to his violin practice. Cashmere lined, I’m sure.

They must be at his place. I’ll have to see if I can dig them up when I’m over there next. It’s only going to get colder.

I run my finger over a pair of mittens. They’re so many—simple knit ones, ones with a flap you can flip over to free up your fingers, ones made from cozy old jumpers and lined with fleece.

Mittens would surely keep Baz’s hands warm.

I find a simple charcoal grey pair with a thick, warm lining. They’re trim and neat, subdued and sedate.

He’ll still find something to complain about but at least his hands will be warm while he does.

3. Bonus Simon slightly creepy ficlet

Simon

Taking only two classes means I’ve a lot more free time than Baz and Penny.

I don’t have class today but I’m up early, as always.

Baz spent the night at his place. Had a paper due today so he didn’t make it over. Probably for the best. He doesn’t have class ‘til noon today. We usually just stay in bed all morning when he sleeps over on Wednesday nights.

But I’ve got plans for the day and an early start is what I need.

London is the best place I’ve lived, other than Watford. There’s so much to do, to see, to explore.

It’s not great for hunting though. At least not for the kind of hunting Baz does. The non-human hunting.

London’s probably more like an all-you-can-eat buffet for the regular vampire types.

But Baz isn’t a regular vampire. He argues with me about it but he’s more human than vampire. Always has been. All that rubbish about being half-dead. It’s all rot.

He’s basically a human with a taste for blood.

But it’s a bit sparse here in the city for him. There’re rats, yeah, but not as concentrated in one place, like they were at Watford.

Places where they do congregate aren’t places I want Baz going to alone. I know he’s got super strength and super speed and whatnot but I still don’t fancy him lurking in Hackney in the middle of the night.

London’s not even in the top twenty rat-infested areas of Britain (yes, I looked it up) (Research.) There are some right big ones in Hackney but it doesn’t even make the list.

There’s a fair amount of birds but they’re a bit dodgy to catch and Baz isn’t too fond of them. There’s deer in Richmond and Greenwich but it’s not that easy to drop a deer in the middle of London, even at night. There’re people around all the time.

You can find badgers in some of the parks but Baz says they’re an endangered species so they’re off limits. That’s taking it a bit far if you ask me. What’s one badger, here and there?

Baz draws the line at bats too. I tease him about that. He’s just too fastidious. Drives me mental. He’s got to feed somehow.

Odd thing is he’s not needing to feed near as often. He used to feed almost every night, he would, at Watford. But since last term he can go two days or sometimes even three and not be worse for the wear. I’m not complaining, mind you, but it’s odd.

Maybe the whole Numpty incident reset his vampiric metabolism? I don’t know. I’m no expert on vampires.

Probably more of an expert than most. On one particular vampire.

So anyway, feedings have been a bit chancy for Baz now that he’s in the city. He’s made do with rats and pigeons, the occasional deer if he can manage it.

He lets me go with him, mostly, now. At least when he hunts for deer. I’m good at lookout, making sure no one’s about, distracting people if I need. Gives him a few moments undisturbed it does.

Even with his altered metabolism it’s still not ideal. He needs a more consistent supply. He’s got a heavy class load. He can’t be out all night trying to feed.

Tried dried blood. I found it on Amazon, of all places. It’s mainly for making blood pudding. Thought it would work all right.

Baz hates it. Made him gag, it did. Says it smells funny and has a chemical aftertaste. Probably all the preservatives. Used it in emergencies a few times, like when it snowed for three days straight in February.

I found some in an Asian market. In the freezer section. I swear to Merlin I had no idea you could get frozen blood in a grocery store.

I’d actually found the place on some Reddit forum on blood pudding. I keep having to clear my browser history. Don’t know what my classmates would think if they saw the searches for blood products on my laptop. Think I’m mental or part of some cult, I’m sure.

The frozen blood wasn’t much good either. Something about the freezing process and coagulation and whatnot. Baz and Penny went on and on about it. I couldn’t follow it all. Just crossed frozen blood off the list of options.

This one Asian market in Catford had fresh blood. Thank you, Reddit. I got a tub of it and brought it home on the tube. Lid must have loosened up at some point. Ended up with the front of my shirt all soaked in it. Looked a nightmare I did.

Walked into the flat and Penny took one look at me and started shrieking about Goblins.

I haven’t seen Baz look that frightened since … since the whole Weeping Tower incident.

He looked terrified. Face shades paler than usual, nostrils flaring, pupils blown, eyes wide and fixed on the bloodstain on my shirt. His fangs popped (I can tell) (His cheeks puff up.)

And then he was right there, running his hands over me, searching for a wound or injury or some such. Got blood all over his hands, patting me down like that.

It took some time for everyone to settle. I hadn’t realized what I looked like, big blood stain in the middle of my chest and splatters of blood on my hands where I’d snapped the lid back on.

Thought I’d been attacked, is what they thought. The Goblins still think I’m fair game so I suppose Penny and Baz had a point.

I put the tub of blood in the refrigerator and went to take a shower. I think Baz burned my shirt. I don’t know why they didn’t “out, out damn spot”it. That should get blood out.

I kind of liked that shirt. But I don’t think Baz or Penny were quite rational at that moment. It’s their biggest fear for me, played out, now that I don’t have magic anymore.

Took me half the night to get Baz settled down enough to try the blood.

Better than the dried blood for certain. Better than the frozen too. Not sure how I was going to manage transporting it back and forth from Catford without another disaster like this one.

Got a big thermos is what I did. Went back a week later but they didn’t have any in stock. Finally got some a few weeks later and transported it home without incident. Thermos did the trick.

Their supply isn’t that reliable. I’m on their list to call when they have it now. The owner thinks I’m some private chef who specializes in blood sausage. The language barrier helps keep them from asking too many questions.

So that’s what I’m up to today. I’ve got a list of butcher shops I called Monday that said they get fresh blood every so often. I’m going round to see if they look reputable and clean. Won’t be getting dodgy supplies for Baz.

I’m hoping if I find enough suppliers I put them in a rotation of sorts. You know something like Catford first Friday of the month, Ealing every other Thursday, Camden on alternate Tuesdays. Something like that. So I’ve always got a supply on hand for Baz.

Keep him from having to prowl around as much at night, especially once it gets cold again. Keeps him out of the dodgier neighborhoods too.

It’s almost six by the time I get home. I’ve got a list and dates and I’m going to put it on a spreadsheet to keep it all organized.

I’ve got two thermoses in my backpack so that’s all right then. I tuck them into the small refrigerator under my desk and head to the shower.

It’s almost eight by the time Baz texts me that he’s on his way over. I’ve got the spreadsheet all done and put the pick-up reminders in my phone.

He’s going to fuss about it all. Baz doesn’t deny it, like he used to, but he still hates talking about it. So I won’t say much. Just tell him I’ve found a steady supply and leave it at that. He doesn’t need to know the details.

That I went all over London today to find reputable distributors. That half of London thinks I’m a blood sausage specialist. That I set up a schedule for myself of when to get the blood. That the frig under my desk isn’t just there because I get hungry all the time.

Baz does so much for me.

I just want to do something for him.

Baz

My heart is pounding in my chest and I can't catch my breath. Simon is staring at me and I can't speak.

I've completely lost the ability to form coherent sentences and I can sense the anxiety rising in him at my continued silence.

This boy. This absolutely fucking gorgeous nightmare of a boy.

He's been fussing with different ways for me to feed for weeks now but I thought he'd finally given it a rest.

But no. I should know by now that Simon Snow perseveres and digs his heels in when faced with a conundrum.

I'm the conundrum.

I know the enormity of what he's done for me. He's minimizing it all, not telling me what I know is true.

That he's traipsed the length of London, personally scrutinizing these butcher shops. That despite his utter loathing of Excel he's put the effort in to make spread sheets--spread sheets, for Merlin's sake--to keep track of dates and times and locations. That he's volunteered himself to pick up the blood, so no one becomes suspicious of me.

Simon’s done all this for me and I'm speechless.

He’s said he loves me. I know he thinks he means it. I want to believe that Simon Snow loves me as desperately, as passionately, as absolutely as I love him.

But I've never really let myself believe it. Not until now.

And it makes me love him even more than I already did, if that's even possible.

I can feel the tears coming on so I grab Simon's shoulders and pull him towards me, burying my face in his neck, my arms tight around him.

"I love you, Simon Snow."He relaxes in my arms and pulls me closer.

"I love you, Baz."

And I know, beyond any shadow of a doubt, just how much he truly does.