#foot clinic london

[footclinicuk]

Foot Clinic London is equipped to do it all. But if you are at a crossroads and still not sure which procedure is right for you, then it is time to get in touch and book your visit today. Consult expert doctors and podiatrists at the clinic to assess your situation and help you choose the perfect course of treatment based on your medical history.

[thechelseaclinicpodiatry]

https://www.thechelseaclinic.uk/

Looking for a chiropodist/podiatrist? The Chelsea Clinic is a London-based chiropody and podiatry clinic that operates specifically in South Kensington. To know more, click on the link!

[healthyfeetlondon]

Striding Towards Optimal Foot Health: A Comprehensive Manual on Treating Athlete's Foot and Corns in London Our feet, unwavering companions on life's expedition, underpin our mobility and explorations. However, their rightful care is often relegated to the background. Whether you're a dedicated athlete or simply navigating the lively thoroughfares of London, prioritizing the well-being of your feet is paramount. Within this all-encompassing guide, we delve into the significance of meticulous foot care and shed light on pivotal remedies like athlete's foot treatment and corn removal, readily available in the vibrant city of London. The Pillars of Foot Well-being Our feet constitute intricate architectures, a symphony of bones, muscles, ligaments, and tendons collaborating harmoniously to enable motion and impart stability. Neglecting their maintenance can culminate in an array of complications, including fungal infections like Athletes foot treatment Greenwich and the vexation of corns. Averting Fungal Foes: Treating Athlete's Foot in London Athlete's foot, a prevailing fungal infection, spares no one, transcending the realm of athletes. Flourishing in warm and moist conditions, it particularly vexes those navigating London's frequently damp climate. Manifesting symptoms such as itchiness, burning, and redness between the toes or on the foot soles. Apprehensions dissipate in the face of London's abundant arsenal of potent athlete's foot treatments. Mild cases find respite in over-the-counter antifungal creams and sprays. However, for more tenacious infections, the counsel of a medical expert is indispensable. The city boasts a multitude of distinguished dermatology clinics and podiatry centers, specializing in diagnosing and ameliorating athlete's foot. These experts proffer robust prescriptions and personalized counsel to thwart recurrence. Lightening the Load: Corn Removal in London Corns, calloused patches of skin, arise from friction, pressure, or ill-fitting footwear. These irritants can sow discomfort and agony, disrupting daily activities and overall well-being. Within London's diverse network of podiatrists and foot clinics, an array of corn removal London techniques is at your disposal, ranging from simple cushioning to minimally invasive interventions. Proficient corn removal not only allays immediate unease but also addresses the underlying causes, enabling you to stride with confidence. Strategems for Foot Vitality Fostering sound foot health extends beyond tackling specific issues. Cultivating a proactive foot care regimen can stave off myriad common problems and bolster overall foot welfare. 1. Impeccable Hygiene: Routinely cleanse your feet, ensuring meticulous drying, particularly between the toes. Socks with moisture-wicking properties and breathable footwear promote day-long dryness. 2. Prudent Grooming: Regularly trim your toenails straight across to thwart ingrown nails. Tenderly file any sharp edges to obviate discomfort. 3. Well-Fitted Footgear: Invest in shoes that fit impeccably and are crafted from breathable materials. Forsake high heels and constricting toe boxes, as these can trigger corns and related concerns. 4. Foot Elocution: Engage in periodic foot stretches and exercises to augment circulation and flexibility. Modest maneuvers like toe curls and ankle rotations yield substantive advantages. 5. Hydration Regimen: Apply moisturizer to prevent dryness and cracking. However, steer clear of the toe spaces, as excess moisture here might incite fungal infections. Marching Towards Well-being Your feet, integral protagonists in your daily narrative, merit unfaltering care. With London's first-rate athlete's foot treatment and corn removal services, silence needn't be the recourse to suffering. Embrace a holistic foot care ritual, and your feet will reciprocate by escorting you through every escapade in comfort and confidence. In the end, robust feet usher in a jubilant, healthier you.

[sayruq]

unicef estimates that a thousand children in Gaza have become amputees since the conflict began in October. “This is the biggest cohort of pediatric amputees in history,” Ghassan Abu-Sittah, a London-based plastic-and-reconstructive surgeon who specializes in pediatric trauma, told me recently. I met him in the waiting room of his plastic-surgery clinic on London’s Harley Street, and we walked to a nearby pub for a glass of water. Abu-Sittah, a fifty-four-year-old British Palestinian with an angular face and tender, deep-set eyes, has treated child survivors of war for the past thirty years in Iraq, Yemen, Syria, and elsewhere. Abu-Sittah is the author of “The War Injured Child,” the first medical textbook on the subject, which was published last May. In October and November, he spent forty-three days in Gaza, conducting emergency surgeries with Doctors Without Borders. He shuttled between two hospitals: Al-Shifa and Al-Ahli, which is also known as the Baptist hospital. The casualty rate was so high that, during some intense periods, he didn’t leave the operating room for three days. “It felt like a scene from an American Civil War movie,” he said. In Gaza, Abu-Sittah was performing as many as six amputations a day. “Sometimes you have no other medical option,” he explained. “The Israelis had surrounded the blood bank, so we couldn’t do transfusions. If a limb was bleeding profusely, we had to amputate.” The dearth of basic medical supplies, owing to blockades, also contributed to the number of amputations. Without the ability to irrigate a wound immediately in an operating room, infection and gangrene often set in. “Every war wound is considered dirty,” Karin Huster, a nurse who leads medical teams in Gaza for Doctors Without Borders, told me. “It means that many get a ticket to the operating room.” To mark the gravity of these procedures, and to mourn, Abu-Sittah and other medical staff placed the severed limbs of children in small cardboard boxes. They labelled the boxes with masking tape, on which they wrote a name and body part, and buried them. At the pub, he showed me a photograph he’d taken of one such box, which read, “Salahadin, Foot.” Some wounded children were too young to know their own names, he added, telling the story of an amputee who’d been pulled from rubble as the sole survivor of an attack.

[world0fmadness]

HONEY HAMILTON

lewis hamilton x wife! reader x ( platonic! ) oc daughter

♡ how winnie hamilton / honey came to be!

୨୧ just some fluffy girl dad stuff with lewis <3

♡ related smau available here, related hc available here and here | view my formula 1 masterlist here

reading music recommendations: no moon at all by julie london - oceans by new navy - climbing walls by strange talk

♡ you found out you were pregnant right around christmas time!

୨୧ to say you were excited to tell lewis would be an understatement…

♡ you were practically bouncing off the walls, thinking of cute ways to tell him! he noticed how smiley you were but didn’t comment on it, figuring you were just excited for christmas

୨୧ you decide to wait until christmas day to tell him, preparing a little box with a miniature version of lewis’ race suit inside reading “ mini hamilton ” on the back, wrapping it and placing it under the tree when you were happy

♡ eventually, christmas rolls around and you tell him to please leave that gift for the last! he’s a little confused but thinks it’s just something really good ( oh yeah, it is )

୨୧ when he finally gets around to it, unwraps it and opens the box… he thinks it’s a little outfit for roscoe at first but when he really pulls it out and looks at it, you can see the gears turning in his head, the exact moment it clicks and his brown eyes light up like the sparkling lights wrapped around your christmas tree

“ are you serious? oh my god… bloody hell, i thought it was for roscoe… c’mere love ” ( you spend at least five minutes just hugging on the floor while he tells you this is the greatest christmas gift he’d ever received )

♡ when you guys tell the other drivers, they’re all so happy for you! they quickly decide between themselves that there can only be one favourite uncle…

୨୧ this leads to way too many gifts, some things that the baby won’t even be able to use until they’re older!

♡ though it does make you and lewis laugh when you walk into the paddock and are immediately bombarded by drivers giving you wrapped gifts

୨୧ george decides he won after he bought a custom made mini replica of lewis’ race car ( you think he won too, i mean it’s just too cute and unique )

♡ lewis is just the absolute best when it comes to you being pregnant, he sort of really wishes you’d sit on the couch with your feet up and a drink in your hand while he paints your nails but if you feel sad just sitting around constantly, he’ll gladly go on walks with you and roscoe around the countryside

୨୧ once on one of these walks, your foot made a weird movement and almost twisted but he caught you as soon as it happened… he swears he felt his heart stop beating in his chest!

♡ when you find out you’re having a girl, lewis is over the moon! he’d be happy with any gender but he can’t wait to have a little girl and do her hair and spoil her rotten and play barbies with her…

୨୧ you both have a little cry in the car outside of the clinic, just so happy to know your baby is healthy and you’re getting a girl… the crying doesn’t last long though, soon enough you’re craving a milkshake with french fries and ask lewis to grab some takeout on the way home

♡ when you’re giving birth, lewis just feels terrible… he can’t handle seeing you in so much pain :(

୨୧ but he comforts you the best he can, drawing patterns on the back of your hand while you almost break his

♡ when you finally give birth, lewis starts crying right along with his baby’s first cry

୨୧ when he does skin to skin, you ogle him from the hospital bed which he quickly takes note of and sends a cheeky wink over to you

“ careful with your eyes love, we don’t need you getting pregnant again just yet… ” ( you roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that spreads across your face )

♡ the absolute hardest thing lewis has ever had to go through was winnie’s teething process…

୨୧ he was a MESS! he didn’t know how to cope

♡ he absolutely hated seeing his sweet little baby winnie in so much pain, knowing there was nothing he could do to help her except keep giving her the ice teething toys :(

“ awh, winnie, i’m sorry, i know it hurts honey, i know… you’re being so strong though hm? my brave girl ” ( you’d make sure to give him lots of reassurance that he’s doing the best he can to help her through it )

୨୧ unsurprisingly, winnie’s favourite cartoon turns out to be winnie the pooh!

♡ she watches it religiously with lewis, constantly letting out airy giggles around her bottle while lewis admires her with nothing but love in his eyes

୨୧ he nicknamed her honey because… well… y’know, winnie the pooh loves honey and she’s as sweet as honey ( not to mention she got his beautiful eyes, brown but almost golden, like a pot of honey ) he thinks it’s pretty straight forward <3

♡ sebastian is a HUGE fan of the nickname, he thinks it’s just adorable and calls her honey bee whenever he comes to visit! he’s her favourite uncle for sure, you guys have trouble getting her out of his arms, she sticks to him… sticks to him like honey <3

୨୧ everytime lewis is abroad for a race, he goes into the city to buy her a new plushie!

♡ it became a ritual between them super early in winnie’s life, he felt horrible for having to leave her for races so he’d bring back a plushie that made him think of her to make up for it and she’d have a piece of him at home whenever he left again

୨୧ her room is absolutely full to the brim with plushies now… she has shelves lining her walls to showcase them! there are at least ten winnie the pooh plushies

♡ when she’s old enough to come abroad to races with him, you do take her! the plushie collecting doesn’t stop there though, he just takes her with him to the stores to pick her own plushie!

୨୧ her absolute favourite places to go are countries with big beaches

♡ she’s a major beach baby! when you took her to a beach for the first time, she was super freaked out by how the sand felt and lewis thought it was adorable… holding her hands and standing her on the warm sand while you cheered her on and recorded from the side

୨୧ but when she got over how different the sand felt and sat down on a towel, she couldn’t stop picking up sand in her tiny chubby hands and watching it fall through the cracks of her fingers

♡ she thinks roscoe on the beach is just the funniest thing ever too, constantly giggling while he attempts to dig a whole in the sand, her happiness only adding to yours and lewis’

୨୧ whenever she brings him little seashells she’s collected, he keeps them! usually he’ll get them made into super nice necklaces or bracelets or just collect a big handful of them and you guys will make it into a cute little art piece to put on the wall <3

♡ he kind of keeps ANYTHING she gives him…

୨୧ if his winnie gave it to him, there’s no way he’s putting it in the bin! piece of string? thank you honey! rock from the driveway? how thoughtful!

♡ all of the random things he’s collected over her toddler years are stored in a big jar that sits on his desk

୨୧ because of how much winnie loves the beach, you and lewis made the decision to move into a house in a beach town!

♡ with the beach basically being in your backyard, you can never get winnie off the beach now… same goes for lewis

୨୧ you’ll walk out of the back door and spot them sitting on a towel together

♡ usually making a sand castle or lewis covering her lower body in sand, moulding it to make her look like a mermaid and taking pictures <3 lewis usually spots you and calls you over

୨୧ christmas time is extremely special to you and lewis since you found out about your little winnie’s existence near christmas and he found out on christmas day!

♡ so you guys go all out for her first christmas! he gets the biggest, most beautiful tree and you decide to make it winnie themed! the ornaments consisting of custom made porcelain winnie the pooh characters and tiny photo frames showcasing pictures from all different times in your relationship… roscoe lays sleeping on the couch in a little reindeer costume

୨୧ lewis holds her on his hip, leaning her up gently and letting her place almost all of them on whilst you take pictures before joining them

♡ when christmas day rolls around, you spend almost the whole day in your pyjamas, relaxing in front of the fireplace! only getting dressed when you go to visit lewis’ parents house for christmas dinner <3 winnie gets dressed up in the cutest little velvet red and black dress with bow in her hair, matching you, whilst lewis wears a sleek but comfy outfit going by the same colour scheme! safe to say his parents were big fans of winnie’s outfit, cooing at her the entire time you were there

୨୧ when the day rolls into night, you guys are home and winnie is put to bed, you and lewis stay on the couch for a bit… just cuddled up with roscoe by your feet, eventually you feel his eyes on you and ask him if he’s okay

“ am i okay? i’m amazing love… just can’t believe i’m here, with winnie and you… i love it, i love you and her so much, you know that? ” ( the soft kisses he placed on your lips after were so full of love, so full of admiration… he was just so content )

♡ you and lewis decided this was the best christmas you’d ever had, just barely beating last christmas because winnie is actually in your arms now

୨୧ lewis and winnie are ALWAYS making you breakfast in bed!

♡ well, lewis is always making you breakfast in bed… winnie is usually just sitting in her high chair at the breakfast counter, letting out high pitched giggles at the mere sight of roscoe trudging around below her feet, lewis leaning over and feeding her tiny pieces of fruit every couple of minutes

“ good strawberry, winnie? yeah? thank you honey, my little food critic ”

୨୧ lewis eventually gets a little tattoo of a honey pot on his upper chest, just above his heart… he says he wanted something that symbolised his love for his honey <3 something that would always make his honey close to his heart…

♡ and close to his heart she is…

lewishamilton and ynln: winnie’s first christmas, filled with nothing but love and presents for our honey 🍯 🎄 🎁

georgerussell ✔️: did she like my present?! i put a lot of thought into it

> lewishamilton ✔️: yeah, she loved it mate! thanks again, yn says thanks as well

> georgerussell ✔️: only the best for my niece 💪

lewynforever: oh my god… she’s getting so big already

> f1lover: right? i remember when they posted that they were expecting a baby 🥹

> lewynforever: time flies…

sebastianvettel ✔️: sending lots of love to you guys and your little honey bee! have a good christmas lewis and yn - sebastian ❤️

> ynln: thank you sebastian! sending many kisses from honey, merry christmas ❤️

[meetinginsamarra]

mayprompts2024,#20 do-over

Apparently there will be another AU happening. No beds but tats.

A Tattoo Shop AU.

I've no idea where this will go so I'll surprise us all. LOL

+++++

White Pony Tattoo - Part One (do-over)

Dr John Watson stood in front of 221 Baker Street and – for the first time in a very long time – felt anxious.

He was wondering why this actually happened to him right now. The London afternoon was mild and sunny, summer was about to begin and yet, an aura of foreboding seemed to hover around the well-kept Victorian building.

John shook himself mentally. This was completely ridiculous. There was nothing to be afraid of. There was no danger.

For God’s sake, he had fought for Queen and Country in Afghanistan, had saved several lives and countless limbs in the field hospital and also on the battlefield under heavy fire. He had not felt anxious then. Wary, yes. Cautious, of course. High on adrenaline, surely.

He had been shot in the shoulder while he was on a scouting mission with his team and had woken up in his own field hospital. When his fellow army doctor had disclosed to John in blunt medical terms that he might lose his arm, then John had been frightened.

After a long rehab process the arm was functioning again but John had been honourably discharged because of an intermittant tremor in his hand that made him unsuitable to work as a field surgeon.

Two years ago, John had returned to London and after struggling for three months he had found work as a physician in a local clinic. He had soon met a wonderful nurse named Mary Morstan, fell in love with her and they had married quickly.

Which brought John back to the reason why he was standing in the middle of the pavement in front of 221 Baker Street, staring at the tattoo shop like a village idiot.

The tattoo on his right upper arm needed a do-over.

“White Pony Tattoo” was not what John had expected. It was located in a small shop with a red awning above its single window. There were no flashing neon signs or colourful and enlarged pictures of tattoo designs the artist had created. No advertising of the shop’s services whatsoever. Everything was clinical and sterile, even off-putting. Had it not been for the single metal sign placed in the middle of the window, no one would have thought a tattoo shop would be behind it.

Maybe it was the sign that made John feel so anxious.

It read “White Pony Tattoo” and showed a stylized white running pony on its right side. On the left the sign read “no arguing, no crying, no boring designs”. This did not bode well. Just by the look of it, John would never have thought about setting a foot in there.

Yet, John had done his fair share of internet research to find the best tattoo shops in London because he really did not want some would-be tattoo artist botch up his skin.

White Pony Tattoo had topped several lists. The only shortcoming that people regularly mentioned was that the artist was capricious. The lesser polite said that he was a total dick. However, Sherlock’s – John assumed it was a pen name -artistry was highly acclaimed and he had won several competitions over the last years. Getting an appointment was difficult and being accepted as a client was even more so. But sometimes, when Sherlock was interested enough, he accepted walk-ins.

John straightened his back, raised his chin, took a deep breath and opened the door of the tattoo shop. A melodious door bell chimed and announced his presence.

IIt was cool and dim inside the shop and it smelled faintly of a fresh lemon fragrance. A thick purple curtain behind the wooden counter closed off the rearmost part of the shop. Quiet classical violin music played in the background.

“Hello?” John called out, taking off his jumper to let his tattoo show. “Is there anybody here?”

The curtain moved and a man stepped up to the counter. It was easy to recognize Sherlock from the few pictures John had seen on the internet.

“Hello, I’m here for a do-over…” John began.

“Shut up.” Sherlock commanded. His baritone voice was silky and opulent just like the luscious black curls that framed his aristocratic and unusual face.

John was so surprised that he closed his mouth with an audible plop.

Sherlock’s eyes roamed over John’s face and upper arms, then the rest of his body. Piercing blue grey eyes took in every detail, precise like an x-ray machine or better, like a computer tomograph. They missed nothing, pinning John to the spot and stripping him down to his very bones, unable to hide anything. It was uncanny. Disconcerting.

“Firstly, it’s called a cover-up, as you should very well know.”

Sherlock chided, frowning. His voice rumbled like the high-end engine of a race car and filled John with an unknown desire.

“Secondly, I’ve already deduced what you want. I won’t do it because it’s boring.”

+++++

The one(s) who know and tell me where the shop's name comes from will get a cameo in this AU (nothing bad, I promise). Are you game?

tagging @peageetibbs @totallysilvergirl @calaisreno @lisbeth-kk @raina-at

[writingshushf1]

Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!

Summary: the one where going back to your hometown is never a good idea.

Rating: +18

Warnings: pure angst (w/ a happy ending), derogatory language, psychological trauma, negligent parents, mentions of abuse, anxiety, depression, mentions of teen pregnancy, ab*rtion, self-harm, addiction and ending your own life

Word count: 8.5k

Note: it’s a very loooong and heavy fic, all the possible triggers are mentioned above, so please see them before you read this one, because it has a lot of uncomfy moments. I wrote it originally around christmas (so themed fanfic?), also available in my ao3.

masterlist

The cold wind whipped against her body and she shivered slightly, the city was colder than expected. She looked around, people walking, chatting; she knew most of them, many had not changed at all since leaving the city for a better life. Since the day she finished high school, she swore she would never set foot in that city again, yet there she was. The only cousin she still considered family, recently had her second child, so the relative begged her to spend some time together; as she was busy, the only time off she could extend was precisely during the holidays.

Going back to that city gave her the creeps, she didn't like to remember everything she'd been through here. Still, she would never deny a request coming from her cousin, since whenever her relative had time, she would go visit her in London.

Her story was a complicated one. A high school plagued with problems at home - her parents never stopped fighting and consequently all the marital problems reflected on her, physically and psychologically. Several times she wished the world would take her away from that suffering. Not only that, but inside the school she was excluded, considered as stupid and someone who would not have a promising future, as a girl who only served the body, since the mind was empty. Boys cheated on their girlfriends with her, turned her into an inside joke, while girls hated her for everything. It was all jokes and games until she got pregnant when she was 16. Her parents freaked out, Christmas that year was terrible, her father's screams were so loud that the neighbours could hear his swearing.

She managed to get to London, going to a public clinic and begging the secretary to have the procedure done without her parents' permission, then she would just use the excuse of having had a miscarriage. That night on December 24th, sitting on the curb, looking at the Christmas lights in the big city, she had promised she would live there.

Until she turned eighteen, she tried to be erased from other people's memories of the city, just doing the school-home commute, doing all the endless chores demanded by her father - since her mother was too busy with her face stuffed into a glass of wine, and making enough money to get out of there through nights working as a cleaner at the roadside diner. It wasn't glorious, her past still ached in her heart, having this profound journey when you're only a teenager had scarred her life. Her cousin, Rosie, was still the light at the end of the tunnel in all this chaos she could call her past; the one who paid for her train tickets to the capital had been her, the one who fetched her from unpleasant encounters with boys who purposefully sought her out for an easy fuck, the one who fought with men for harassing her, the one who was there when she tried to take her own life and stood by her hospital bed while she became an even bigger laughing stock, not only among her peers but also in her entire family, who proudly pushed her away from everything they could.

So going back to that epicentre of her traumas was what she was doing for her cousin, a way of thanking her for everything she had done to keep her alive.

In 12 years, a person can change a lot; her hair was no longer in its natural colour, her body was strong, her head held high and the confidence that was built in many intense therapy sessions; plus an overcoming of an addiction. Some people recognised her on the street, with shocked expressions at seeing her dressed so well, others ignored as soon as she said hello and there were also those who pulled nasty conversations - obviously those who peaked in high school and were now in mediocre jobs. She responded with the utmost happiness, being in a job that valued her and still paid well was a difficult thing these days.

The woman parked her bike in front of her cousin's house, looking around, the houses were still the same, just some renovations or painting. That feeling of panic started to hover, her old house was across the street, right in front of her cousin's house. She took a few seconds to remove her helmet and grab her backpack, walking in dragging steps down the driveway, knocking on the door lightly. Nobody answered, how strange. She sighed loudly, looking at the time on her mobile phone, she was probably shopping. She walked slowly and sat on the steps, watching the movement on the street; she sent some messages to Rosie, who answered, apologising for the wait, but the line at the supermarket was huge.

Suddenly, a black Mercedes stopped there, almost crushing her bike. She stood up quickly, to check if there was any damage, ready to curse the reckless driver. A dark-skinned man with braided hair and fancy clothes stepped out of the driver's side, looking straight at her and walking calmly towards her - which made the woman's blood boil even more.

"Oy! Sorry for almost messing up your bike, I didn't mean to."

"Mate, you're lucky nothing happened." She retorted, looking the motorbike up and down.

"Oh... Okay, you don't need to get mad at me." He raised his arms and she rolled her eyes.

Before they could continue their conversation, Rosie parked her car, flashing a smile at the sight of her. She ran over and hugged her tight, which removed her tough-guy composure in front of the stranger. The older woman looked at the man who was standing there, who was waiting for the other man's answer, for a few seconds they stood still, until the owner of the other car went to him, hugging the man, who smiled and kissed her cheek back.

“Lewis freaking Hamilton, you’re back home!” The blond said to him. “The only time of the year we can actually see each other. I bloody missed you.”

“Me too. Fancy a cuppa?” He said, letting her go.

“Oh! I- I don’t know! My cousin just arrived and I need to set her down, right?” Rosie looked at her, circling her short arms around her younger cousin’s shoulders. “Maybe tomorrow! You and bring your niece and nephew, Bandit will love to have a playdate with them.”

“Deal.”

They dispersed, with the women going to the eldest house, while Hamilton headed to his parents' house.

Rosie's house was cosy, family photos on the walls, very colourful and well decorated. The blonde showed around, finally showing the room she would be staying in; there were a couple of clean towels, soap, shampoo and conditioner on top of a neatly made bed. The room was smelly and well lit, even if it was small, it gave a feeling of comfort.

"You can go pack your things, I'll start dinner. Jam is with the baby, he's gone for a routine doctor's appointment and will pick Bandit up from school later." She placed a hand on her cousin's shoulder. "Thank you for being here, you don't know how grateful I am to welcome you into my home."

"Only you could bring me to this place again."

They both cracked a warm smile, with the older one walking off and leaving the girl alone with her thoughts. She grabbed one of the towels, the toiletries and went to shower in the en suite bathroom. After undressing, she spent a few seconds staring at her body in the mirror, the scars across her torso that revealed her past, the stretch marks along her breasts and belly that hid a story she preferred to keep to herself. She took a boiling bath, letting the water do its effect and easing the pain in her back from driving on the motorbike all day. When she got out, she had only the fluffy towel wrapped around her body, she walked over to the bed, opening her backpack and pulling out a sweatshirt and trousers, she was too distracted by what she was going to wear to notice that her window faced the neighbour's window - which was consequently the room where Lewis Hamilton was staying and in the same situation as she was, with a towel around his waist after a hot shower, choosing a comfortable outfit. They both raised their heads at the same moment, exchanging a few seconds of eye contact, which was soon broken by the girl pulling back the curtain of her window. The man was visibly intrigued, his cheeks reddened by the intimate moment with the stranger.

In parallel, she went to dinner with her cousin and her family, while he had fun with his family, his niece and nephew running around the house.

…...................................................

During the afternoon tea they arranged, Rosie hosted not only for Hamilton, but also his entire family. The Londoner knew him very well, they were the same age, went to the same school from kindergarten to high school; she didn't know where to stick her face, her parents would recognise her too, she was a big topic among the adults in town. She tried to keep calm the whole moment, focusing her attention on Bandit, who called her to play together with the other children, she would surely thank him later, probably giving her some exaggerated and expensive gift. When it was time to eat, she walked further behind the children, helping her cousin set the table for afternoon tea, avoiding looking her neighbours in the face. She sat down next to the little boy who saved her skin, helping him serve himself and soon after putting food on his plate. She hated eating with strangers, however she would try her best for Rosie.

"I feel like I know you." one of Hamilton's sisters said to the woman.

"You probably do, this town is small and we are always bumping into each other." She shrugged.

His sisters seemed to have recognised the girl, however they kept quiet on that subject for the rest of the day.

By the time night was coming on, it was just her and Hamilton, sitting on the front steps of the house. The silence was not awkward, much less uncomfortable, it seemed they understood each other without any words being exchanged.

"Sorry about yesterday, I was a brat with you, mate." She said low.

"Nah, it's alright, I guess you're just a bit of a crikey... As my teammate would say it." He cracked a smile, as a result she lightly slapped his arm, which earned a laugh from both of them. The silence lasted a few more seconds after they stopped laughing, then he broke it. "My half-sisters know you."

"Yeah? One of them commented today, but we didn't follow up on it."

"They told me some things that got me gutted." Oh no, here it comes. The judgement, the past mistakes being brought on by this guy you barely knew.

"What did they say?"

"Well... We already knew a little about your parents, but they told me how you were treated in high school." She felt a wave of emotions invade her body, she didn't know whether to start swearing at him, or cry, or run far away. "It wasn't fair." Lewis said low, wiggling his fingers in each other's. "And I'm sorry my sisters never did anything to prevent it."

"It's not their fault those people were a bunch of arses." She stood, ready to go inside.

"Hey, wait!" He stood as well, holding her wrist so she couldn't leave, pulling her against his body in a warm hug. She closed her eyes, feeling the embrace, it was so good to just let it go.

They kept hugging for a while, him running his fingers through her back and she was squeezing the fabric of his hoodie.

“Tomorrow, there will be the Christmas event downtown, want to come with me? A lot of people from my former friend group will be there.” He said. “If you don’t want to, it’s okay, there will be people you know from your high school too, but I would love to have a good company so I can be there sober.” He chuckled at the end, to make the request lighter.

The ask came with a shock, they knew each other for 48 hours and he seemed so comfortable to be with her. She also felt amazing, the way he listened and cared about his relatives, during the afternoon he would often check on the kids, bring them snacks, then talk with the women about the most varied subjects, which made her question what he worked on. Lewis looked hopeful, waiting for a response.

“Okay, only because you’re a good one, but if people start giving me the shits, we’ll leave and for revenge, you’ll watch the Grinch with me; because I’m his reeincarnation and it’s the best coping mechanism.”

“Oh. So you hate Christmas?” He was way focused on the details then the overall request.

“Of course, bad things always happen on this daft holiday.”

“So my job is to make you see like I do. The past is already gone, we should celebrate the present and hope for the future, darling.”

“So I’ll wait for tomorrow night to be the best of my life?” She teased, feeling her heart beating faster than usual.

“It will be, trust me.”

…............................................

She was getting ready, happier and more nervous than usual, she wanted to look good, obviously the motive didn't pass through her mind. Rosie was walking down the corridor, but stopped when she smelled the citrusy perfume in her guest’s bedroom; the woman smiled, looking at her cousin, who was putting some makeup on.

“Ooh, getting fancy? For whom may I ask?” The older one leaned on the door frame.

“Lewis invited me to go to the Christmas event, he doesn’t want to go alone, maybe people won’t bother him as much.” She answered, grabbing her purse and fixing her beanie.

“Right.” Her irony could be spotted from miles away. “A smoking hot single guy asking you to go out with him in a sorta romantic setting is just because he doesn’t want to be surrounded by people from his past.”

“Rosie… Shut up! We’re going as friends and if it’s too daft, he’ll be forced to watch Grinch with me.”

“Not romantic, at all.” She chuckled and the doorbell rang. “It’s your prince charming!”

“I swear to God, you’re such an arse!” The girl ran downstairs right after the blonde one, seeing that she was talking with him, so the younger one stopped on her tracks, smiling nervously.

“There you are.” Lewis said, with his beautiful bright smile. “Looking amazing, love.” She walked towards him, smacking his arm slightly.

“You’re so cheeky.”

“And you’re lovely.” He responded, hooking their arms together. “Let’s go before we get late.”

They waved at Rosie, going to his car.

….................................................................

“I’m nervous.” She said, playing with her ring. “People still look at me weird.”

“It’s horrible.” He sighed. “I know my situation is way different from yours, but I understand this feeling, those racist pricks who talked shit and said I would never be a successful driver and here I am.”

“Oh… Really?” She put a hand on his shoulder slightly, squeezing it before lowering to her thigh again. “This must be a very silly question to you…”

“What?”

“A driver? Hum… I know I’ve seen your face somewhere but, what do you do? I mean... Driver?” Her cheeks were bright red.

“Formula One driver.” He smirked, it was a nice change to go out with someone that wasn’t interested in his fame or fortune, a woman that wanted him for him, his company, his odd sense of humour and a lot of style.

“Oy. That’s why.” She chuckled. “You must be really good then.”

“Seven titles and counting.” His cheekiness made her stomach flutter. “How about you?”

“I work on the creating process of a clothing brand for kids. It’s nice and colourful, my office? Full of stuffed toys, different wallpapers, one day I’ll show you.” She was proud about her work, it was something that made her happy, connected with a part of her life that she had lost and it was a good salary.

“I would love to.” He parked his car. “The way you talk about it, it’s lovely.”

They got out of the car and quickly he hooked her arm with his, walking through the closed street of the city centre. Immediately she felt the eyes on them, people whispering and trying to be discreet while taking pictures of them. He looked at her with a reassuring smile, muttering ‘everything is going to be okay’. Some kids ran to him, asking for pictures, which he happily complied, hugging them and taking his time with them while she was standing a bit further, cracking a smile on how gentle he was. However, things weren't perfect, so when she looked at the parents of the kid, her smile fell; the woman slowly came closer to her, saying her name.

“The one and only.” She answered, uncomfortable.

“I haven't seen you since…”

“We’ve finished high school. A long time ago.”

“Oh… Yeah.” The ginger was checking her from head to toe, with a disgusted expression. “You changed a lot.”

“London does wonders to you.” She joked, passing her hand around her neck, looking away. “Anyway! You stayed here?”

“Yeah, me and Rob went to university in the neighbouring city and then came back, we got married and had our beautiful boys.” Oh wow, how cliche. “And you?”

“Got out of here and tried. Failed a couple of times…” She chuckled, looking at Hamilton. “And now working in the creative process of…” She saw the kids come back, excitedly from meeting their idol and she immediately noticed the brand of their jackets. “The brand your kids are using right now.”

Lewis walked back at her, putting his hand on her shoulder, analysing the situation and seeing her slightly uncomfortable.

“Impressive.” The passive-aggressiveness in her voice was enough for the British man.

“Well, I’m very sorry to interrupt the chat, but we have to keep going if we want to get the best hot chocolate before it’s over.” He put the other hand on her shoulder, slightly massaging it. “Maybe we’ll have another free time to catch up.” With that, he held her hand pulled away from the couple, waving goodbye to the kids.

“Thank you.” She murmured and he held her hand stronger than before.

He stopped at the hot chocolate booth, buying for both of them and they kept walking. They didn’t know when they intertwined their fingers or started to walk closer, sharing small smiles and more intimate conversations, although none of them wanted this moment to stop. The beautiful stage prepared for the local band to play was ready and people started to gather around. Hamilton insisted on buying some street food for both of them to share while they listened to the mayor talk and all the boring speeches.

More judgmental looks from people were shot at them and she recognized all of them, which hurt more than expected. When the music started to play, the man let his body loose, moving with the rhythm and she got closer to him, letting Lewis pass his hands around her waist and rest his head on her shoulder, looking at the stage. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in and out, feeling the things around her, the sounds and the smells; she knew herself too much to know she was close to a panic attack, not because of him, but all the situations since they got out of the car.

“Alright, love?” He whispered.

“Bit rubbish, but I’ll be fine.”

He hugged her closer, leaning his forehead against the side of her head, murmuring the lyrics and swaying in a slow pace. It was good, she still let her eyes closed, calming herself down; he was just the best to be around. She lowered her hands, putting on top of his and caressing slowly, the feeling of it was nice, his cold rings against the warm skin. At her head, the words of Rosie before the date repeated over and over, that it was an actual date and he didn’t invite her only as a friend. They only backed off from each other to clap when the band was finishing, now some regional singers would be up and people were more interested. The passionate looks between them were so intense that they took a time to see someone calling for her name; she got out of the trance, whispering ‘fuck’ a few times, before putting a fake smile.

“I thought you were dead or something, you vanished from earth.” the brunette smiled.

“I moved out. London.” She looked at Lewis, who held her hand. He was already in flight or fight mode.

“Wow, I never thought someone like you would do so…” The woman dragged the ‘o’ while looking at the driver. “Well in life. At least get someone as incredible as Sir Hamilton.”

The brunette’s partner approached them too, with whatever he went to grab to his noisy girlfriend. Oh shit. She felt like she was sixteen again, the guy who was already in university and went after a sixteen year old girl because women of age wouldn’t want to be with him, nevertheless got her knocked up by lying to her. She held Lewis’ hand tighter, looking at him and back at them.

“Hey! You.” The guy pointed at her. “It’s been a while.” He smiled, looking at his partner. “Hamilton! I haven't seen you since the big school reunion… It was what? In 2018.”

“Yeah, long time, mate.” He said, trying to maintain as neutral as possible.

“I didn’t think you would be with someone… You didn’t seem the relationship type of person.” The guy said, sipping on his drink. “Because, you know… Your… History.”

The driver was close to beating that man up, however he knew the girl holding his hand, almost crying, would not like the attention, so he got closer to her, running his thumb around her hand, trying to calm both of them down.

“I’m sorry! Uhm… Sometimes Patrick doesn’t shut up.” She tugged at him with his arm. “He likes to keep honest, right?” Of course she would stand by him. “I mean, you had quite a bad reputation…”

“You can say it.” The girl in a verge of tears said, taking a deep breath. “You kept your whole adolescence saying it. It won’t hurt you, I know that.”

“Fine.” The brunette crossed her arms. “I hope you really knew about this Sir.” She looked at Hamilton. “But this lovely girl with you was the biggest whore in our high school and it wasn’t just rumours, she even got knocked up and claimed that lost the baby. So if I was you I would stay away, she’s just into your money and body.”

Lewis didn’t answer, just pulled his girl away and walked to his car again, trying to not call as much attention as that horrible couple already tried. Meanwhile, her head was low, no response, just some sniffles; her head was full of different voices saying all the horrible words she heard during high school, the rumours and how they treated her in that time. It was the first time in years that she felt the need to drink herself into forgetting her own name. The dark-skinned man opened the car door for her, but before he did, he lifted her face with his fingers, seeing her eyes glistening from tears; his first reaction was to take her in his arms, hugging her gently, running his fingers through her hair as the woman held back her crying. He kept holding her for a few minutes, until she broke away from the hug, sitting on the car seat, looking at him and murmuring 'thank you', in reaction, he kissed her forehead, closing the door and going to the driver's side.

The drive home was quiet, only the radio filling the silence of the car. The worried glances from the driver left her even more cringed in her seat. When he parked in the garage of his family's house, he made a point of getting out of the car first to open the door for her and escort her to her cousin's house. She hadn't said a word yet, much less acted beyond walking, so he pressed the doorbell and saw Rosie's worried look settle on both of them, yet she hurried off to her room, not even saying goodbye to their date.

"What happened?" The older woman's expression was serious.

"People from her past. They were horrible, no matter how hard she tried to be nice.... I pulled her out of a conversation before it got any worse and brought her back." He bowed his head, he was disappointed in himself, he had planned a nice date and hoped to see her smiling, enjoying life and leaving the bad feelings the city left in her. "I should have protected her, but I didn't want to make a scene. I know she would have hated being the centre of attention again. More than she already would have been for hanging out with me."

"Lew..." Rosie put her hand on his shoulder. "I know you just wanted to have a nice night out with her.... I know what you see in her. Don't give up, just... The people in this town can be the worst."

"That's exactly why I left here." He muttered.

"Well, she commented on the Grinch movie before she went out with you."

"Oh! Yeah, in case the night was bad, but I imagine she doesn't want to watch it now."

"Come in. Go into the bedroom and ask about the movie. She doesn't want to be alone."

He walked slowly up the stairs, he was nervous, afraid of what her reaction would be to him being there, somehow invading her personal space. Lewis took a deep breath before knocking on the bedroom door at the end of the hall.

"Not now, Rosie..." The woman said in a tearful voice.

"It's me, love." He said low and the door was suddenly opened.

She had her make-up all smeared on, now wearing a sweatshirt twice her size, pyjama trousers and slippers. The pilot stood leaning against the door frame, watching her.

"I remember you talking about Grinch..." He watched her expression soften, making room for him to enter.

He removed his coat, cap and shoes, sitting on the edge of the bed. She handed him a pair of slippers, before sitting down next to him.

"I don't know where the TV control is." She said.

"So... Go clean your face, take that makeup off, even take a shower if you have to, and I'll get Rosie to help me find it. And also for her to make some tea, bring some snacks and we'll watch the movie together. The two of us or she can come watch it with us and we'll be here..." He wiped the tears that were falling from her face. "To be with you. You can cry, feel angry, feel sad.... We will listen and take you in."

"You don't exist." He laughed, a little confused. "Seriously, Lewis, you just took me in.... Even though people are telling me about my past."

"But I'm seeing you from now, a woman who bloody loves her job, her cousin to the point of coming to the place that gave her trauma to be with her, someone brave who never gave up on what she wanted. Someone amazing that people insist on hurting." She hugged him one more time before he got up and went after Rosie, who was anxiously waiting at the edge of the stairs.

"Alright?"

"Where's the TV remote?" He asked.

"In the second drawer in the desk."

"The three of us are going to watch Grinch." The man smiled. "We just need a cuppa and get some snacks."

Rosie chatted with her husband and kissed him goodnight before packing everything up by the pilot and heading to the room where her cousin was. They put the movie on the television, with the younger girl lying in the middle of the two of them. Rosie hugged her, running her fingers between strands of her hair, while Hamilton felt his hand being pulled by the girl, leaving her back against his right leg. He knew she wasn't paying that much attention, from feeling her fingers wander through his rings, so he squeezed account of her fingers, seeing the smile that appeared on the woman’s face.

They ended up sleeping all scrunched up together before the half of the movie.

….................................................

When morning came, Lewis left a note on the table next to her mobile phone, written.

"hey, had to go home, text me when you wake up. your cousin has my number. - Love, LH"

It was December 24th, Christmas Eve. She woke up around noon, alone in bed. The girl didn't want to get up as soon as she remembered all the humiliation of the day before, being called a slut in front of the man she was having a chance to have something with. She sighed loudly, getting up and going after her mobile phone, finding his note. A smile appeared on her lips, he was the best person she could have ever met.

After putting on some comfortable clothes, she went downstairs and made herself a cup of tea, soon hearing the front stall open and Bandit rushing over to her. The woman cracked a smile and took the boy in her arms, watching Rosie with the baby and Jamie with the groceries.

“Oh, look who’s up! Good morning.” The husband smiled, leaving the groceries on the table.

“Oy, Jams.” She smiled, getting her nephew a cup of water.

“How are you feeling, darling?” Rosie said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Better.” She sighed. “By the way, do you have his number?”

“Oh, someone is fancying Lewis?” Jamie asked, putting the groceries away.

“Maybe. But don’t be cheeky, we’re just trying our luck, okay?”

“Sure! But he’s buff! And tidy.”

“You’re so cheesy, baby.” Rosie kissed him on the cheek.

She got his number and by 2pm, she laid on the bed, texting him.

oi! It’s me ;)

lh: me who?

lh: jk

lh: good to know you went after my number

after yesterday?

i would be an arse if i didn’t

lh: ok

lh: you have a point

anyway

thanks for yesterday, even if it didn’t go as you planned

i’m happy

you’re the kindest

lh: anything for you

maybe we could go out again?

before new years?

lh: i would love to

but maybe a home date

nothing in public

not wanting to repeat yesterday's horror

lh: agreed

The day was very quiet, they stayed at home and prepared everything that would be needed in the evening and on the 25th, being with the couple was such a relaxing thing, they were amazing people who were always available for a chat and were grateful that she was so committed to helping them. During the afternoon she played with her nephew in the backyard, making a snowman, snow angels and a little snowball war. Even though the day marked more than one bad memory in her life, she would not let it hold her back, for she is living in her present and not in the past.

From afar, she could also see Lewis playing with his niece and nephew inside the house. The woman cracked a smile at that, waving to him as soon as the man noticed.

Meanwhile, Hamilton had just stopped playing with the children, making his way to the kitchen and watching his half-sisters chatting. He grabbed a cup of tea and sat down at the table, picking up his mobile phone and trying not to pay attention to their conversation until they decided to include him.

"So you went out with her?" One asked.

"We heard some rubbish things. Of you walking out of the middle of a conversation and pulling her along."

"And that you didn't want to hear what they were saying about her."

"They called her a slut." He replied, not taking his eyes off his phone.

"Well..."

"People change." He shrugged. "She didn't want to go out downtown. She hates Christmas and those stuff, but she still went with me and people were fucking arseholes to her." The pilot sighed, remembering the image from the night before, her running into the bedroom, her face wet from tears. "She doesn't deserve this nonsense hate that her old classmates have for her."

"You didn't spend the night at home." They changed the subject before he got too angry.

"Yeah? And?"

"You were with her?"

"Yes. Rosie and I lay with her and watched a movie, she slept cuddled in the middle of us." He took a deep breath, leaving his cup in the sink. "She's changed. She's a grown woman who still bloody suffers from everything she's done, but at least she's managed to get back on her feet and live her life."

He left the kitchen, going to the back of the house.

From then on, days 24 and 25 passed quickly, as did days 26 and 27 and soon Hamilton knew he should be heading back to London, there would be a New Year's Eve party with other drivers at Russell's house and he had been invited. An idea popped into his head and soon he was in front of Rosie's house, ringing the bell. The woman's husband answered.

"Lewis! You can come in! The girls are in the kitchen." He cracked a playful smile. "I know who you're after."

"Jam... Mate, I swear..." He cracked a smile too, slapping his shoulder twice before walking quickly to the kitchen.

When he saw the scene, his heart started beating faster. She was dirty with flour as she made cookies with her nephew, her smile was huge and the boy's laughter could be heard from afar. Rosie was holding her daughter as she turned up the music. The Londoner was having her movie moment, the soft laughter, the wonderful family and a man who loved her watching from afar.

"Oi! Am I interrupting something?" The dark-skinned man said, walking slowly.

"You can come in!" Rosie said with a smile, as the other woman tried to clean herself up.

"Can we talk?" He said as he got close to the younger woman; she removed her apron and they walked out into the yard through the kitchen door, the tension in her could be seen from afar, so he held both of her hands, standing very close to her. "Calm down, it's nothing bad."

"I always hope for the worst."

"With me, it's always for the best." They both smiled before he took a deep breath and looked at her. "I'm going back to London tomorrow, I need to sort some things out.... But that's beside the point. I've been invited to a New Year's Eve party by my teammate and I was wondering if you wanted to go as my date."

"Oh. Lewis, that's... I don't know if I have the right clothes for the occasion!" She laughed softly, placing her hand on his cheek. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure! I want to introduce you to people who will love you, who will treat you nicely and see that you deserve nothing but the best." He put his hands around her waist. "And don't worry about clothes that I can manage."

"I'd love to go with you." The woman kissed his cheek. "I'd have to talk to Rosie, though. But I don't think she'd be mad, she's the best and as soon as she can, she's going to spend a weekend in London with me."

"I can't wait to see you in a gala dress. You’ll look so lush." He murmured, bringing his face closer with hers. It was an automatic movement, like muscle memory, their noses already brushing against each other from their faces being so close. A little more and they'd be with their lips together, however a loud Rosie saying that the cookies would burn broke the mood, making them both laugh before heading back inside.

Hamilton was invited to spend the day at their house, which he didn't refuse as he felt very comfortable with his family. The two's passionate glances could be seen from afar by Rosie and James, who were smiling, as if they were playing cupid. They might have spent the whole day on the outskirts of the house, without revisiting other places in the town or buying different things at the local market, but for them, they didn't have to, because each other's company was already enough.

When Hamilton left, the designer was cornered by her cousin and her husband - who were certainly far more invested in everything than she was.

"You guys spent all day together and no kiss? Nothing?" Rosie said in exasperation.

"It's just that we spent the whole day with you guys."

"You could have disappeared and we wouldn't have given a shit, you're a couple in love!" Exclaimed James.

"We're not a couple."

"Yet."

She laughed low, running her hand over her face. "Anyway... I'm leaving tomorrow." She could see the sadness in their gaze. "I'm going back with Lewis, he invited me to a dinner party with his friends. We're spending the new year together." Their reaction was squealing and hugging the girl.

"Then we'll pack your bag and tomorrow morning you'll be waiting for him and you can be at peace together in London. Without horrible people and privacy." The older woman put her hands

on her cousin's shoulders, pushing her up to her room.

…

December 31, 2022. Last day of the year. She was sitting on the floor, the day started badly, she managed to break a plate when she went to make breakfast, cutting her palm. Then the shower wasn't getting hot, then the heel she had separated to wear that night, broke just as she decided to test it. And to make matters worse, it had been 5 years since she had drunk herself to the point where she couldn't stand up and tried to take her own life. Her head was leaning against the bed, mobile phone in hand, part of her wanted to cancel tonight's plans and hide under the covers until the first of next year. Slowly she dialled the pilot's number, listening to the sound of the call until he answered.

“Hey, love. Alright?”

“No. Everything went wrong.” She murmured.

He was going out with his fellow driver friends, they really needed someone to pick their outfits for tonight, however, when he heard her voice, so low and weepy, he walked from them to a quieter place.

“What happened?”

“I cut my hand, my shower stopped working, the heel I was going to wear tonight also broke and to top it all off, today is not a day with very good memories…”

“Hey… This must be very frustrating.” He said in a soft tone.

“It is.” She sobbed, passing a hand in her face to wipe the tears away.

“Okay, how about… I can get a new shoe for you and I can also pick you up… So you’ll get ready with me for the party.”

“That sounds good… I live close to Green Park station.”

“I’m at Picadilly… Pretty close, so as soon as we finish here, I’ll pick you up. Okay, love?”

“Okay.” She smiled.

“Because they don't have any fashion sense.” They chuckled together before hanging up.

She took a deep breath before getting up again, looking at herself in the mirror, even if she was going to go and get ready at Lewis' house, she couldn't look like that. Slowly, she packed her make-up and an extra outfit into a backpack, then put on a nicer outfit; she also washed her face and put on some perfume - it didn't matter if she was going to shower later and would have to reapply, what mattered was to be smelling good for him. He asked if she could go to the shop he was in. He wanted to know if the heel would fit her, so he walked there. As that boutique catered to more famous people, everything was more discreet and safe, no one could see from the outside what was going on inside, so neither of them would have to worry about people snooping in their lives.

She walked in and was impressed at how beautiful the place was, even feeling underdressed there. Hamilton walked over to her and greeted her with a hug, leaving a kiss on her cheek. He led her over to where some of his friends were, introducing her to the others, before getting straight to the point about which shoe she thought was the best. They took a while to choose which one would be ideal, but they managed to agree on a model.

When they arrived at his mansion, the man took her directly to the large bathroom of his master bedroom, leaving her free to shower and get ready while he went to his wardrobe, which also had a bathroom.

Later, when he was ready, he went to where she was, getting jaw dropped to see her, the purple dress had been perfect on her body, her hair was loose and she wore the jewels that he had separated especially for her. Noticing that he was watching her, she cracked a silly smile, walking over to him and putting her arms around his neck, thanking him for everything and that she had no words to say how amazing he was, from welcoming her to being willing to introduce his friends to her. They drove off with his driver, so the journey was quiet to George Russell's mansion.

As she entered, she felt the distinctive atmosphere of the place, people had no idea who she was - and that made her so relieved. During the first few hours, she was introduced to his friends, made short conversations and took a few sips of water. She was more focused on how he introduced her, as his partner and also said how amazing her work was. When he reached his friends, now mostly with their respective girlfriends, she felt calmer, seeing other women also taking the same seat she was in. The girls joined in and the bomb of questions - completely respectful, began.

"Where did you two meet?"

"What's he like?"

"He is the one who fell in love first?

The personal questions were answered, but every time it got into the relationship thing, she just said they were taking it slow, taking their time.

Meanwhile, Hamilton was being questioned by his friends - and even Toto had entered the conversation. They were already more playful, wanting to know more spicy aspects. The driver laughed at the haste they were in to find out - besides having Sebastian Vettel with a 'where did I go wrong?' expression, which earned even more laughs.

"We haven't even kissed yet." The older man confessed.

Even more questions surfaced.

"We haven't had a moment together... That's all. I want to take things the right way, she deserves only the best from me."

"And that's how you win a woman, boys." Vettel added and the group burst into laughter.

It was almost midnight, everyone with glasses of champagne except her, at first Lewis hadn't noticed, but the moment he saw it, he handed his own over and was ready to look for another.

"I don't drink, Lew." She said close to his ear.

"Sorry." He took the cup back.

"Five years. Today." The pilot turned his face close to hers, surprised.

"Wow…"

"Actually, it's January first, but I prefer to count it as today."

Then he quickly left his cup with a waiter, putting his hands around her waist, leaving a kiss on her shoulder. The action left her confused, it was okay in case he wanted to drink, it wasn't his problem.

"I'm not going to drink. I want to be able to enjoy your kiss."

Before she could answer, the countdown was on.

5

4

3

2

1

Happy New Year!

She didn't wait for him to speak or do anything, she just pulled her body against his, bringing their lips together in a passionate kiss, passing her tongue into his lips until he opened his mouth to reciprocate it properly, letting their tongues move together in a rhythm. His hands went to her waist, caressing the spot and pulling her even closer. The kiss ended with little pecks and goofy smiles.

“I waited so long for this.” He murmured against her ear.

“Me too…”

They ended up calling for an early night, saying they were too tired and she had to work the next day - it was a lie, she would only be back on January 2nd. Soon they were laying in bed, cuddling.

“I’m proud of you.” She looked at him, a bit confused. “Five years is a long time.”

“Thanks…”

“There’s something else?”

“What?”

“About it. You can tell me, or not, only if you feel comfortable.”

“So…” She sighed, sitting on the bed. “I was an alcoholic, and it was getting worse, my family… Didn’t care, except for Rosie. I’ve lost my job, my partner and was losing my flat. Let’s say that at the end of 2017 was horrible for me. And with my drunk mind… I thought it would be better if I wasn’t around anymore.” He sat up, putting both of his hands on her face, looking the most worried she had ever seen. “After that… I decided to get clean, mostly because of Rosie, she said that I should give life a chance and that everyone who did bad for me would get their consequences. Then I went to rehab, started studying what I loved, made goals. It was hard, still it is… There were some days that I just wanted a sip, but I knew I shouldn’t, so I resorted to other coping mechanisms and they weren’t healthy, at all.” She lifted the shirt he gave her to wear, showing her inner thighs. “But I’m also clean… Almost two years. I really put my life back together. Not that I don’t have bad days or sometimes things may trigger me… Mostly, I’m fine, on my meds, clean and sober.” She didn't notice when tears started to fall, nor when he was hugging her, stroking her hair and leaving light kisses on her face. Her eyes closed, enjoying his show of affection.

"I'm proud of you, for the amazing woman you've become and that you've managed to get back on your feet." He kissed her forehead, before placing a quick kiss on her lips. "You're amazing and I'm going to give you the world, if it's possible, I'll go to the moon and back to show you how amazing I think you are."

"I... I'm completely in love with you." She admitted, surrendering to the embrace and causing them to fall onto the bed. The woman ran her hands through his tresses, soon beginning to trace the tattoos she could reach, as she watched his smile grow wider and wider. The pilot's hands hugged his waist, caressing the spot. "And I hope you know that I'm going to do everything I can to be by your side. Every race I can go to, I'll be there, if not I'll be here, watching on TV. Regardless of whether you win or lose, I will always be with open arms and welcome you with kisses." She left several kisses along his bare collarbone. "Because life isn't just about winning, it's about the journey."

"I really want you to meet the rest of my family." He murmurs. "They will love you."

"And you need to meet my friends." She laughed, starting a kiss.

This time, their lips were more desperate for each other's touch, like it was urgent, like the only purpose of life was to have this passionate kiss. Their tongues were moving in a unique rhythm as his hands roamed her back and she held his shoulders tightly. Hamilton's touches became lower and lower, reaching down to her thighs, where he touched them tenderly, as if they were fleeting and he wanted to remember that sensation forever.

Her kisses descended to his neck, which he responded with a low moan, grabbing the other's waist, pressing against his body. Her legs were on the side of his body, pinning him against the mattress.

"Baby... If we keep this up, I swear... I don't know if I'll hold on." He pulled her face so they could look at each other. "I don't want to push you into anything, I want it to be the best way possible."

"Okay. I agree." She cracked a smile, getting off his lap and cuddling up next to him. She left small kisses on his chest, before rubbing her face against his body.

"What?"

"Thank you. For thinking of me above sex."

"Always. You're my Christmas miracle."

"Damn it, Lewis!" She started laughing uncontrollably. "I still hate Christmas you know, don't you? You just showed me that I don't have to hate that town as much as I do, even if the people are awful."

"But..." He couldn't stop laughing either. "Okay, that was pretty dumb."

"But at least... It was you being my arse."

They continued to laugh for a few more minutes, until tiredness hit and they fell asleep like that, hugging each other so tightly as they were afraid of losing the other in the middle of the night.

Before Valentine's Day even came, he was already posting pictures of her, with declarations of love, it didn't matter to anyone why they were together and who she was. They were them and no one had the power to intervene in their little bubble of happiness. At the beginning of the season, he took her to her first race, where she met more people from his world and was even more in awe of how amazing he was. It seemed like every day she was impressed with new parts of him, he was more like a little box of good surprises.

"I never thought I'd be here, in this position, watching a race and cheering for my boyfriend, but... Lewis changed me. And I'm very grateful for that." She commented to Angela - who approved of the relationship before they even had their first kiss, not least because she loved that her best friend was happy.

"You've changed him too. For the better." Her words caused the designer to fill her eyes with tears. The pilot was ready to put on his helmet and go to his car, but he stopped to give her a kiss, yet he found her all weepy.

"What happened, honey?"

"Blame her." She said with a smile, pointing at Angela. "She said some nice words to me."

He giggled, leaving a kiss on the girl's lips, before putting on his helmet.

"I believe in you." She murmured before he got into the car.

[ego-meliorem-esse]

ELABORATE

If you insisttttt <3<3<3<3<3<3

i assume you are asking about the clinical breakdown by the Admiral Lord

Alfred is born in 1631, the settling of the colonies is still uncertain. Having said that, it's def more stable than in the late 1500. It took a long time for his son to be born. Lots of tries and failures. I do hc that Alfred and other countries are BORN. In the human way, to humans, to countries, it does not matter. They are spawned in a very human bloody and painful way. Alfred was born when Boston was established. He does have a mother ( i like to mix the old 2014 hcs that there was a country in that region specifically before the english but having done any kind of research will show that so many different cultures and languages and frankly ways of life existed in the now united states and then "13 colonies" that its straight up and down right unethical to have a single "Native America" representing those vast cultures. Now forgive my balkan-ness for keeping this part short but getting into his part of my hcs is not in my interest or my forte. I just like to humanise these beings, especially Alfred as much as possible) and that mother gave birth to him. Colonisation and settlement in the 1500s and 1600s is cruel, abhorrent and unspeakable to those living on these lands prior to the arrival of the english and for a while dutch. As many nations opposing the empires do, she dies in silence and solitude. Alfred is left in his father's care.

Boston is stable when Alfred first dies. The babe has weak lungs and Arthur doesn't understand. Alfred dies again a year later from the same illness. This time Arthur is aware of an outbreak of illness near the bay. The boy will strengthen and come back to him. He does but only for 2 months before he is ill again. There were difficulties in finding potable water in that part of the colony. Arthur is perplexed, this isn't the sort of thing nations fall ill for and die over. He starts to worry severely, keeping the boy physically close by and under care at all times. Just to make sure the boy, the personification, is in perfect health at all times. Maybe this way, Arthur thinks, his baby will stay with him. It seems that he was right because Alfred lives healthily for more than 2 years. He is fed, he is warm, he is happy. Alfred doesn't wake up one morning. He is still in his crib. He doesn't cry for attention. This time Arthur cries audibly yet carefully, alone in his study. Exiles, brutality and deaths of settlers seem to be the cause. His baby is in London and the order is set for the child not to set a small and wobbly foot in the colonies. His flame is extinguished not even a week later. Arthur is numb at this point. He cannot take it anymore. His guts and throat are in a state of constant clenching. He is vomiting and in pain. England is thriving, Arthur is in a state of misery.

The final straw, final death comes 4 months later with no warning and no apparent causes. Arthur is hosting his brother Rhys in the drawing room. Arthur has had enough. The nurse brings in his boy, Arthur takes his baby into his shaking arms, without a sound. His brother is aware of his nephews struggles with keeping alive. He tries to talk to Arthur, he tries to get him to say anything. Arthur does eventually speak, his voice getting more and more hoarse. Rhys takes his nephew slowly. Arthurs last straw breaks. He is on the floor, he is mourning, sobbing, sorrowing, yelling. Rhys and no one has ever seen Arthur Kirkland like this. He is weeping. Arthur finally broke down.

Part 2 maybe when I pick myself back up from the floor?

[ludmilachaibemachado]

"At school in London, I was quite chatty and sociable. I was curious about people and wanted to know their personal stories. On holiday, in seclusion in Scotland, I could become more introspective. I'd ride off into the hills for adventures on my new pony, Sugar Foot." Mary McCartney🍀🍀🖤

📸

1. Linda McCartney at Avenue Clinic, St.John's Wood, with her newborn daughter Mary. London 28 August 1969. Paul McCartney🥀

2. Paul McCartney at Avenue Clinic, St.John's Wood, with his newborn daughter Mary. London 28 August 1969. Linda McCartney🎍

3. Paul McCartney holding daughter Mary with daughter Heather, September 1969.Linda McCartney🍃

4. Paul McCartney holding daughter Mary, Scotland 1969. Linda McCartney🌱

5. Mary McCartney, Ireland 1971🪷

Via @maccalover66 on Instagram 💐

[baratrongirl]

I have been dealing with non-stop health problems since 22nd June or thereabouts and I just want it all to stop.

On 21st June, which was my birthday, I went to an Elder Scrolls Online 10th Anniversary party at the offices of Bethesda/Zenimax in London. I proceeded to catch COVID from being out in public, and spent a week in bed.

On 29th June I was sitting at my computer, still with a high fever, stood up to go to the loo, and something in my right leg tore and I fell over. Couldn't walk at all for several days. Finally got free of COVID, went to the hospital, and they thought from an ultrasound that I'd torn my Achilles tendon. So I got put in a horrible cast and was not allowed to put any weight on the leg at all.

Went to Germany for the ESO Tavern anyway because I figured that accessible hotel rooms would be less stress than my house, which is only accessible for my normal disability and not for "you can't put any weight on your foot at all". Had to inject myself with an anticoagulant called Fragmin because of being immobile, which is super great if you're needle phobic.

Once I got home and saw the specialist, she thought it probably wasn't a tear and ordered an MRI. This showed that actually, I "only" had "thickening and inflammation" of the tendon. So it looks like I "only" tore my calf muscle which is a much less serious injury to heal. (I could dig out the hospital letter with the actual names of the muscles but I frankly don't care enough.)

However, my right leg was STILL rock solid with oedema. (Medical for "swelling"). The calf felt hard to the touch instead of squishy like my left leg. The young doctor that I saw the second time was only bothered about the tendonitis and severe inflexibility of my foot, not the fact that my leg was swollen. And I continued to have pain spikes so bad that my temperature hit 38.0 C and I started puking for probably six weeks after the initial injury.

TL;DR my leg started to get better and then it got worse again. About two weeks ago I noticed the leg was more swollen than ever, and the skin was bright red and very itchy. Took myself up to the hospital again, had a blood test, sat and waited for the results.

My foot turned LITERALLY purple and by the time I got to see the A&E doctor, she just looked at my foot in combination with the blood test results and declared that I had a clot. (Though she was very thorough, carefully checking the entire length of my bad leg against the good one.) They gave me a massive dose of anticoagulants and sent me home to sleep in my own bed for a bit, then I went back the next day and had another ultrasound at a different frequency from the first. (Different frequencies of sound penetrate different levels of tissue). And promptly got diagnosed with Deep Vein Thrombosis.

Blood clots are kinda gross (don't worry, there are no pictures):

Apparently the blood clot is from behind my knee all the way up to mid-thigh. I thought a blood clot was an amorphous, approximate spheroid blocking the vein at a particular place, but it actually fills the entire vein! (Gross!)

Also the main concern with Deep Vein Thrombosis is that bits might break off from the main clot and travel through the bloodstream to cause a Pulmonary Embolism. So the high dose of anticoagulants is actually to deal with bits breaking off from the clot rather than to break down the clot itself! That's why the treatment is 3-6 months on a high dose of anticoagulants.

I was worried about the risk of stroke but that's from blood clots in arteries, not veins.

I'm still annoyed with the doctor in the Fracture Clinic who basically looked at me and saw a fat person, rather than checking that my uninjured fat left leg and injured fat right leg felt the same. Because I had the oedema then. I had a soft, squishy fat left leg and a hard, unsquishable fat right leg.

If I'd actually followed his advice I might have accidentally killed myself. Fortunately I know the medical word "oedema" and knew not to use the special socks which said "do not use if you have oedema".

I am so fucking frustrated. So stupidly tired. I can't work out whether I'm depressed because I'm exhausted or exhausted because I'm depressed. Or whether the two states are orthogonal and caused by something else.

I feel like I've basically missed the entire summer to being sick and mostly unable to move very far from my bed, and the only joy I have is that I live in the UK and have paid nothing for any of this healthcare because it's all funded from our taxes.

[footclinicuk]

Consider the factors mentioned above, and you will find that the Foot And Nail Clinic is the ideal medical destination to get a Lunula Laser in London. Get rid of your fungal nails and enhance your feet’s aesthetics under the supervision of our experienced clinical podiatrists and chiropodists.

[cryley]

source: My Old Man: Tales of Our Fathers by Ted Kessler

MY DAD HAS BEEN FAMOUS LONGER THAN I’VE BEEN ALIVE Tim Healy by Matthew Healy

My name is Matthew Timothy Healy. I was born naked in north London in April 1989. I am told it was quite warm - which has been the case for most of my birthdays. I am an adult now, semi-clothed. My father spent those early years of my life working between England and Australia - back-to-back winters that had deprived him of the sun for almost four years. He told me he remembers my birthday being a bright and memorable time, golden-hued. He currently lives in the house in which I spent most of my childhood. In some ways it exists as a shrine to what once was - our family and what has been achieved. It is a feeling that is comforting and unsettling in equal measure. 

My dad, at five foot seven, a baby-turned-milkboy-turned-welder-turned-comic-turned-actor, was born in the early 1950s to parents Malcolm and Sadie, in Birtley, Newcastle upon Tyne. He lived modestly up north, as a youngster and as a young man, with his brother, John, and their dog, Smartie (a dog that would later come to head-butt my dad in a moment of jestful play, resulting in him losing his bottom row of teeth. John once threw my dad over a wall, with the assumption that the drop on the other side was of equal height to that which he’d just hoisted his little brother over. It wasn’t. He landed right on his head and has had to wear glasses ever since).

He would work between various factories during the day and at night he would pursue his dream of becoming a stand-up comedian. He is a very funny man, my dad, whose charm and passion is articulated through his comedy, and his face exudes a type of warmth that one would expect from a northern English comedic actor. He laughs like Muttley off Wacky Races and whistles inane tunes that have never been heard before, for good reason. 

My dad has been famous longer than I’ve been alive. He was at the height of his fame just before I was born, during Auf Wiedersehen, Pet. My parents being famous was always part of my reality: there are photos of their wedding with a crowd of a thousand people outside looking in, which is what their life has been like. I know nothing different, and it bled into the way I saw myself. My dad was a rags-to-riches character, so as soon as he saw a stem of creativity in me, he knew the importance of nurturing it so that I gained a sense of self. Me being creative was always emotionally, financially endorsed by my dad. 

‘You’re John Lennon,’ he’s say, from the time I was six. He expected me to be a rock star, not in a superficial sense, but A Rock Star. Mark Knopfler from Dire Straits and Brian Johnson from AC/DC would occasionally come around to our house when I was growing up so it always seemed tangible. Rock stars walked among us. Welders, too. Dad has a dichotomy between being a working-class manual worker and a bohemian actor. I remember watching a Michael Jackson video with some of his welder mates when I was a kid and them saying he was from another planet. I thought, Yeah. My planet. 

My parents always taught me that you get the good with the bad. So, if you want to live in a nice house and have nice holidays, then maybe Hello! Might have to come around your nice house or go on your nice holiday to take photos for their magazine. The Daily Mail and the Mirror went in a bit hard on my mum for a while, which was difficult for my dad as he’s not from the tabloid world that comes with being behind the bar at the Rovers Return. He had to deal with a wife who was clinically depressed, being hounded by the tabloids. What does he do to look after his wife? We got through it. And there’s stuff that people don’t know. We found a lot of security in that, knowing that they only knew so much. 

I thought about this a lot when my band was breaking. My mum is on Loose Women. That’s not credible, that’s not cool. My dad is a credible actor but he’s well known too. Am I going to be perceived as an ITV boy-band thing? In the end I had to get over it. You can’t judge musicians by what their parents do. It isn’t going to work. 

There are two things he always said to me, and always after a drink: ‘Be who you want to be.’ And ‘It’s in yer fucking bones, man!’ He empowered me. He acted in awe of me. Not in a sycophantic way, but as if I didn’t need his advice. If I had conviction, it would see me through - and that really rang true. Because I had a middle-class family I could get to twenty years old and still be working it out with the band. 

I didn’t go to university. I worked in a Chinese restaurant, which stressed my mum out. ‘Is this band thing really going to become something?’ she’d ask. 

My dad never questioned it. ‘Leave him alone, man, he’s fucking John Lennon, man.’ He believed in me unquestioningly from the moment I wrote a song called ‘ Robbers’ when I was eighteen. He bought us our first van. He converted the garage into a rehearsal space. His overt passion for us is instilled in our band. When our album went platinum all of the band made sure he got a disc. He’s the band’s dad. 

The character he plays in Benidorm, who rides around on roller skates with a wig on and big boobs, is probably the one he sees the most of himself in. He told me he based it on a combination of Les Dawson and Tommy Cooper, which is my dad incarnate. If people ask me to describe my dad I say, ‘Combine those two. That’s him.’ The slapstick he plays is quite like his real persona. He’s a very, very good actor. It’s not strange to see my dad put on a wig and be someone completely different. When it looks and feels like my dad but there’s something else going on, that’s when it throws me. It’s the subtlety of my dad in the midst of a great performance that can really mess me up. If you’re involved in the physique and the aura and the knowledge of who that person is, when the minutiae of it change it’s quite alarming.

I steal a lot of lighters, which is something coincidentally I’ve stolen from my dad. We’ve stolen everybody’s lighter we’ve ever come into contact with. Superficially, I think I’m more like my mother. I’m quite erratic. I’m passionate and emotionally driven, whereas my dad is more subdued about those things. I think what I’ve got from my dad is my fear of not being proud of myself. Those are the times I’ve seen him at his lowest, when he regrets something he could’ve done, mainly from a creative perspective. I’ve seen him cut himself up over things that I wouldn’t have imagined he’d find that relevant or important. And then I find myself doing the same over a vocal take, or some small detail in a recording, and that’s when I feel him inside me. That’s when I know who I am. 

Matthew Healy is the singer and guitarist with the 1975.

[thephantomcasebook]

https://www.tumblr.com/thephantomcasebook/751087061978775552/about-hotd-my-expectations-were-low-but-they

This is a bad take.

Olivia Cooke's personal headcanon for Alicent, as told to the writer Sara Hess (https://variety.com/2022/tv/news/house-of-the-dragon-female-gaze-sex-scenes-queer-rhaenyra-1235462483/), was that, "they (Rhaenyra and Alicent) at some point kissed or made out or had some kind of physical interaction that Alicent’s mother found out about and forbade. And that was [her] head story, ‘Oh, I can’t do that. That’s not right.'"

Also, it is poor taste to misgender Emma and disregard their journey they have publicly spoken out about. The Pink News (https://www.thepinknews.com/2023/01/11/emma-darcy-non-binary-golden-globes/) reported how they struggled with presenting as female for success, but they chose to publicly state they are non-binary because: "In terms of queerness, the only good reason for being out as a non-binary person, publicly and professionally, is that I hope it will let younger people who may feel similar know that there is room in this industry for them."

Please don't add to the bigotry of this fandom.

Alright ...

1.) That's creepy as fuck that Olivia Cooke was thinking about Tween Girls making out and touching each other. That's also fucking stupid, completely off character, and she, frankly, needs to get her whole ass head examined.

I won't get into more specifics, because, I've already done a deep dive of how weird and creepy that head canon is on this blog and on other sites when it came out. And if I was the writer, I'd say ... "No ... what? NO! What are we evening talking about right now? And don't say shit like that in public! The fuck is wrong with you?!"

2.) I'm not playing these fucking games.

A.) I'm not giving any respect or care to an ideology that was founded on the abuse and torture of children by some psychopathic French doctor that resulted in a young boy killing himself after years of being forced to have sexual relations with his twin brother.

(Yes, weirdo, gender ideology is based off the work of an evil doctor mutilating, torturing, and sexually abusing, young twin boys in his clinic and home in mid-1950's Paris.)

B.) Don't fucking insult my intelligence. You mean to tell me that an actress, all the way in her 30's, with a long time boyfriend, who spent an unsuccessful decade in the London entertainment industry, who couldn't hack it, suddenly used a pet corporate sponsored fad to try and get her foot in the door? You mean to tell me that weird and fucked up actors and actresses would game the system and prey on the "Current Thing" to get noticed and casted? I'm shocked, I say! Shocked!

Do me a favor, weirdo. While you pretend to be a good person with your bullshit Jerk Off crystal ideology, why don't you get the fuck off my land!

[freddie-foxs]

15 Questions for 15 Friends

Thank you @thenameswinter99 and @lord-aldhelm for tagging me 😊😊

Are you named after anyone? Not as far as I know.

When was the last time you cried? Cried laughing last night (dinner with cousins descended into complete chaos, as usual). Other than that, Monday afternoon when my scooter falling on my foot became the last (painful) straw of an already bad day.

Do you have kids? Nope. Don't have plans to any time soon either.

What sport do you play / have played? I used to go to the gym as part of a clinical trial. I also swam but eventually stopped. Also cycling, but I haven't done that in a while either because the bikes need servicing.

Do you use sarcasm? Sometimes. Not very often though.

What's the first thing you notice about people? Facial hair. I know that sounds weird, but hear me out. I have partial hearing loss that is mostly around speech. Big bushy beads obscure a person lips meaning I can't read them, and also act as a muffler. Anything neatly trimmed is alright though. But yes, I usually notice a person's mouth first because it's the first thing I look at when they start speaking to me.

What's your eye color? Blue-grey

Scary movies or happy endings? If I have to choose, happy endings. I do not do horror particularly.

Any talents? Photography mostly.

Where were you born? London

What are your hobbies? Is photography a hobby if I'm doing a degree? I also read a lot, and play the clarinet (started before I started loosing my hearing).

Do you have any pets? Nope. Just a lot of cuddly toys.

How tall are you? 162cm/5feet 4inches

Favourite subject in school? Was Drama until some things happened with the teachers and I quit. Surprisingly, I never intended to do photography, but ending up loving it. Otherwise, film studies was my best and favourite

Dream job? I'd like to work in the film/TV industry. Probably as a set photographer.

[nicklloydnow]

Frankie Boyle's Farewell to the Monarchy

“I didn’t make any jokes when the Queen died. I maintained a strict silence. . . as I tried to sneak back out of her bedroom.

(…)

Famously, the public drew strength from the Royal family staying in London during World War Two. Presumably, they thought the Luftwaffe might hold back if there was a risk they’d bomb their own.

(…)

Richard III in many ways set the tone for what would become the modern, British monarchy: a child-sacrificing cult of violent, ruthless ambition which the British public is happy to tolerate in exchange for a long bank holiday.

(…)

Henry VIII is one of the few husbands Johnny Depp can feel superior to. Only England can watch a man abuse six different women and think “Maybe every school child should learn a rhyme to remember how he did it.” Henry also invented modern divorce and so it’s his fault you’re watching this at home, alone and unloved.

(…)

Every royal coat of arms is richly symbolic. For example, before he became King, Prince Charles’ crest showed a lion mounting another lion while a horse looks patiently on. Whereas the Duke of York’s shows a lion paying twelve millions pounds to a sex-trafficked lion cub that the lion claims it never met. And from Queen Elizabeth I, today’s royals learned a valuable lesson: understand your own symbolic function. Elizabeth, in a time of conflict between Catholicism and Protestantism, understood that by presenting herself as a sort of Virgin Mary incarnate, she could dilute those tensions. And indeed, she went on to shape the worship that took place in the Anglican Church, creating a sort of Catholicism for pussies.

(…)

Victoria had her first sight of Scotland after arriving by ship at Leith. If ever a four-foot-eleven woman with nine kids and clinical depression was going to feel at home, it was going to be in Leith.

(…)

With conditions miserable for many Brits, Queen Victoria did the obvious and spread that misery around the world, much like a U2 tour.

(…)

Personally, I try to deal with the injustice of the British monarchy in my own, small way; giving swans bread soaked in LSD to try and liberate them from their mental shackles.

(…)

Conspiracy theories about the royal family being lizards disguises the fact that they’re something even worse: a slightly dim German family to whom we’ve inexplicably given billions of pounds.

(…)

I used to be outraged by the British class system, how it destroys lives. Then I bought a ‘Live Laugh Love’ magnet for my fridge. Now it all just washes over me. The monarchy is ending. When that happens, let’s not be bitter. Let’s get out in the streets and raise a bottle to them. . . filled with petrol and a burning rag.”

“Is the Coronation going to be a flop? It is impossible to be sure as we know so little about it, but far too many of the signs are bad. How can things go well when the official food for the occasion is a sort of vegetarian flan?

Will our new King be dedicating his life to God, as his mother did, or to Net Zero, as he seems to want to do? How Christian will the ceremony be? I am all for welcoming other faiths, but it is our Christian laws, customs, culture and civilisation which have drawn so many to come to live here. And I believe it is our Anglican settlement which creates the tolerant space in which other beliefs rightly flourish among us.

Few people realise that we are the last nation in the world to have such a ceremony. The other remaining kings and queens of Europe have low-key inaugurations, about as majestic as the induction of a new head teacher.

Ours is a ritual of memory, power, loyalty and acclaim, stretching back a thousand years into the very origins of Christian Europe. And if you read the order of service from the 1953 event, or watch the film of it, you will get a strong sense that the monarchy of the time was not ashamed to exist.

(…)

When the Queen died last year, I was moved enough to queue for hours to see her lying-in-state. But I have never forgiven the authorities for the muffled, underpowered ceremonies surrounding her death. This was the most important death since that of Winston Churchill in 1965 – which was marked by a great triumph worthy of the Roman Empire and ending with crowds lining the railway tracks as he was carried home on a steam train to the heart of the countryside of the nation he saved.

(…)

Well, I shall never be a Royal adviser. Charles long ago decided I was unacceptable and cancelled a meeting he had originally wanted to have with me, because his politically correct aides warned him against it. But if I had gone, I should have said to him, and say again now, that it is no use trying to please or placate the enemies of the Crown. Do what you like. Submit to taxes, embrace political correctness, wear a mask and sit alone at your own spouse’s low-key funeral, cut back on the pomp, sideline your embarrassing relatives. It will do no good.

The radicals who rule the country see all such moves as signs of weakness. And those who treasure a thousand years of majesty know that it will not last much longer if it carries on like this.”

[houseoracastle]

[THE SURGEON]. Please welcome [LOGAN FERGUSON (HE/HIM)] to Huntsville, WV. They are an [40]-year-old [VISITOR] who lives in [TOWN]. You may see them around working as a [SURGEON AT HUNTSVILLE CLINIC]. Poor unfortunate soul. We’ll see if they survive.

—IN CHARACTER

Name: Logan Ferguson Age: 40 Birthday: July 6th Hometown: Somewhere near London Came to Huntsville: January 2016 Occupation: Works at the clinic

BIOGRAPHY

again i'm gonna flesh this out eventually tw: general jackassery

the youngest son of a cute little family in whitstable

logan was always the grumpy child and kind of spoiled

also very very very intelligent from a young age which was kind of annoying to the rest of his family but whatever

decided to do med school in the united states because he'd fallen for an american girl and chose to follow her

they were briefly engaged but it didn't actually work out

finished med school and all the med school stuff (k hasn't done research but will when they have time tyvm) and quickly became pretty well known as one of the best of the best when it came to neurosurgeons

pretentious and kind of a player tbh

got into a fight with a girlfriend of his seven years ago and drove out in the middle of a snowstorm

not being able to see more than a foot in front of him ended up biting him in the ass when he crashed into a tree just outside of town

he wasn't too badly injured and walked into huntsville to look for help for his car

voila now he's stuck

started working at the clinic because where tf else would he go with his education obviously (he's a dick did i say that already)

but also thinks he's too good for the clinic

has probably given you a disdainful look at some point

i'm sorry about him okay