#no one from dublin should make it big like this

[londonfoginacup]

sorry that mitch stole ur bday but i had no idea it was his bday but i knew it was yours so you win🎉

THANK YOU THIS IS WHAT MATTERS someday mitch and i will engage in fisticuffs in a dark alley and I will make up for this grave injustice

[schlattslambo]

Not sure if you’re doing only smut, or a mix of fluff and smut, but maybe a fic where schlatt and reader have soft and sweet sex? Like maybe the reader is stressed about everything happening in their life and schlatt offers some comfort, which leads into soft sex. K thanks 🙏

a/n: ok i may have gone a bit overboard with this one oopsie, but i really hope you like it!!

—————————-

The house is quiet. For the most part. Your boyfriend isn’t yelling at his computer - mainly because he’s out of the house running some errands, the TV is off, and the cats aren’t chasing each other around the house and breaking things. The only sounds are a record player playing classical music in the sitting room and your breathing. It’s a beautiful fall afternoon, and you had just finished baking some cookies. It should be a relaxing day, but it isn’t. Despite the semi-quiet house, you can’t stop your racing thoughts.

You have so much that you could be doing, but you aren’t even sure where to start. You have projects that you need to finish, a few work emails to send, and you’re in charge of planning a trip abroad with some friends. All of this plus juggling your secret relationship. Schlatt is a very caring person, despite the persona that he displays online. He notices every slight change in your mood and can pick up on things that you don’t even pick up on yourself. And you don’t really care that your relationship is secret; it’s for the best.

But that does little to stop those thoughts. Things that you can be doing better, things that aren’t finished but need to be reworked. All of these things that need your attention. So, you decide to grab your laptop from upstairs and do some work in the sitting room. You curl up on the chair with a mug of your favorite tea and get to work. Your fingers are like a blur as you type on the keyboard, so engrossed in your work that you don’t even hear the door open.

“Honey, I’m home!” Schlatt calls, just as he always does when he comes home to you.

When you don’t answer right away, he figures that you’re in the bathroom or something. He calls your name, but still no answer. Okay, he thinks, no big deal, you probably have your headphones in. Then he spots the freshly baked cookies that are cooling on the counter. Shoving one in his mouth, he continues his search for you.

When he finds you, you’re hunched over your computer, eyes darting across the screen. Your work emails have been sent and the projects are at a point where they can be put on hold for the evening. Now, you’re stressing about hotel deals in the Netherlands. You’d already sent along a quote to your friends for the hotel in Dublin, so you just had to find three other hotels after the one in the Netherlands. You scribble down some information before a large hand is on your shoulder. You jump, but relax when you notice Schlatt standing there.

“What’re you doing, toots?” He asks, chewing on another cookie. “Great cookies by the way.”

“I’m trying to figure out what hotel to stay at when me and the girls go to Europe.” You grumble, tapping away at the keyboard. “I still have to find three more hotels after I get a quote from this one.”

Schlatt looks down at you with a smile. You’re always working so hard, and he loves that about you. One of his favorite things is your work ethic. You always manage to continue working no matter what happens. It also happens to be one of your biggest faults.

“Baby, you really need to listen to your own advice.” Schlatt says, running a hand through your hair. “What do you always say to me?”

“That you’re an idiot?” You ask, looking up with a smile.

Schlatt acts offended, placing a hand over his heart. “No,” He gasps. “Well, yes, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make! You always tell me to pace myself when I work. And it doesn’t look like you’re doing much of that.”

“I don’t have time to pace myself.” You counter. “We leave in six months. I have to get these hotels booked or else we’re going to spend a fortune.”

You turn back to your computer and Schlatt sighs softly. Looks like he’s going to have to do this the hard way.

“C’mon, (y/n),” He says, putting his hands on his hips. “Save your progress.”

He rarely uses your first name, but when he does, you know he’s serious about something. You quickly bookmark the page and close the laptop, peering up at him. Without a word, he scoops you up princess style.

“Hey!” You yelp. “Where are you taking me?”

Schlatt says nothing but walks you to his room. He softly kicks the door closed behind him and plops you on the bed. You look at him and cross your arms on your chest.

“Jay, I really-” Your cut off by his soft lips pressing against yours.

“Honeybun,” He says, using one of your favorite nicknames. “Let me help you relax, m’kay?”

His kisses trail down the side of your neck and all of your thoughts melt into a puddle that now pools in your belly and starts to warm. You nod against him but he pulls back.

“Words, baby.” He says sweetly.

“Yes, please.” You whisper.

“Such good manners.” Schlatt replies, attaching his lips to your collarbone while toying with the hem of your shirt. “Let’s get this off, hm?”

The two of you slip your shirt off together and Schlatt continues kissing you, pressing his lips further down to your chest. He pushes your bra down, then takes a nipple into his mouth. You shudder at the contact, goosebumps blossoming on your skin.

“Lay down, my love.” He whispers against your skin. “Let me take care of you.”

Without a word, you comply. You slip your bra off yourself as Schlatt kisses down your torso and to your waist.

“May I?” He asks, hooking his thumbs into your belt loops.

At your nod, your pants slowly come down, warm kisses pressed to your hips and thighs. His touch is so gentle and sweet that you think you may cry. When your pants come off, Schlatt looks up at you with a smile.

“God,” He breathes. “You’re the most beautiful thing in the entire world. How the fuck did I get so lucky?”

Schlatt expresses his gratitude for you ‘choosing to love him’ all the time, but somehow, this feels different. More intimate. His lips press against your inner thigh, making you let out a soft gasp. He slowly slips off your panties, licking his lips. Once they’re off, he gently spreads your legs, his thick fingers exploring your folds.

“My pretty girl’s all wet,” He smiles, sliding a finger inside of you.

You mewl, arching your back. His thumb finds your clit and rubs slowly, and he watches you with a lovesick smile on his face. His cock grows harder at the sounds your making and how your pussy clenches on his finger every time he presses just a bit more on your clit.

“Can I fuck you, baby?” Schlatt’s voice comes out strained as you look at him.

You nod and his cock twitches in his pants. No matter how many times he gets to fuck you, his cock always twitches at the idea. You’ve been dating for around a year and a half, and he gets giddy inside whenever he gets to be this close to you.

“How do you want me?” You ask.

“Missionary.” Schlatt says with a smile. “I want to watch your beautiful face.”

You adjust on the bed as Schlatt finds a condom, resting your head on the many pillows that litter his bed. Just like Jambo has his little feather collection under the couch, Schlatt has a pillow collection on his bed.

He climbs up, smiling at you with such love that your heart does a little flutter. Kisses are pressed up against your ankle, all the way up to your face. Schlatt presses his cock against your entrance, pausing to intertwine your fingers together as his forehead rests against yours.

“I love you so much.” He whispers, slowly entering you. “My beautiful, beautiful baby.”

“I love you too.” You gasp.

His movements are vastly different from when you two usually have sex. He’s usually sporadic and quick with sloppy thrusts and a grip that bruises. This time, he’s holding you so gently that he’s scared he might break you. His thrusts are slow, but have just enough force to them to make your eyes roll back. As Schlatt’s lips attach to your neck again, you let out a moan.

“That’s it,” He praises against you. “Let it out for me. You’re taking me so well, babydoll.”

Schlatt pulls back to look at you, and your eyes meet his. The way you look up at him makes him nearly burst. He continues to go slow, but his orgasm is approaching rapidly. He never cums first, so he needs to stop.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby.” He breathes with a smile. “You’re gonna make me finish too quick. This is about you tonight.”

You smile and sink your teeth into your bottom lip. Schlatt lets go of your hands and reaches down to rub your clit. This allows you to pull him closer and kiss him. The kiss is passionate, slow and intimate. It’s intensified by the shocks of pleasure coming from your clit. Schlatt adds more pressure, making you break the kiss.

“F-Fuck,” You whimper. “I’m close.”

“Yeah?” Schlatt asks with a smile. “You wanna cum for me?”

You nod and moan, looking up at him with those pretty eyes. He rubs your clit in circles and uses the other hand to gently caress your chest. The small action sends you over the edge. You grip Schlatt by the back of the neck and pull him down, your moans muffled by another kiss. He thrusts as you cum, chasing his own orgasm. Only a few thrusts later, he’s cumming as well, groaning into your mouth.

As Schlatt comes down from his high, you look at him with half-lidded eyes and a soft smile. He quickly disposes of the condom and cleans himself up, coming back to bed and scooping you into his arms.

“You’ve been working so hard lately.” He says as he runs a hand through your hair. “I’m so, so proud of you. You make me and the boys so happy. I love you so much.”

You smile and lean into his touch. “Thank you,” You whisper. “I really needed this.

Schlatt presses a kiss to your forehead and snuggles you until the two of you drift off to sleep. You don’t mean to take a nap in the middle of the day, but you also didn’t expect to make love at 3pm either. But as you drift off to sleep in Schlatt’s arms, those racing thoughts are gone. The only thoughts that remain are how lucky you feel to have someone so thoughtful in your life.

[eilishalways]

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

all you wanna do is kiss me - pt 2

summary: a follow up to the first part 🤭

warnings: alcohol consumption & people being tipsy

a/n: I HOPE THIS ISNT BAD LMAOO

it was two nights after the grammys, and billie was fretting. you had given her your number at the end of the night, but billie was still too scared to text you. she lay in her bed, not knowing what to do. you were very nice about giving her your number - eager, almost, but billie was still too nervous? what if she said something weird? what if you didn’t want to talk to her? there were so many bad scenarios possible.

billie looked at the time. it was 5 to midnight. would you even be up? would you be asleep? were you talking to someone else? she was scared. very scared. she went downstairs and made herself some coffee, and sat at the breakfast table. she contemplated what to do. as she was scrolling through instagram, she saw you had made a new post. two images, both very risqué. the caption was just the telephone emoji. billie blushed, and took it as a sign to text you. so she did.

billie sent you a simple ‘hey’, not expecting you to reply till morning. but within five minutes you responded back with ‘who’s this?’. billie had forgotten that you had only given her your number, and you hadn’t exchanged them.

it’s billie

oh hey!! how are you?

i’m good, hbu?

the conversation continued well into the night. it was 4am when you finally said ‘look, i’ve gtg now. it’s really late.’ billie was sad but responded with ‘yeah it’s super late’. but before you went to sleep you asked her ‘would you like to come round to my house tomorrow? well, technically today.’ billie immediately typed back with ‘i’d love that��

sounds good. i’ll send you my address later. also - bring a swimsuit. we can get in my pool!

that sounds really nice! what time should i be there for?

uhhh, maybe at half 6 or 7? i’ll cook up a bit of dinner.

sounds great! see you then!

despite billie’s coolness over text, she was absolutely freaking out. dinner at your house??? getting in your pool???? she wasn’t able to sleep after that, too nervous to focus on anything else. thankfully she wasn’t doing anything that day, so she could try to figure out what to wear and should she bring anything.

fast forward to midday, billie was eating her lunch, still thinking over what she might wear? a tshirt and jeans? a dress? a jumper? the options were endless, but none seemed right. she couldn’t just ask you what to wear as well - that’d be weird. billie finished her lunch and went back up to her room to decide what to wear. as she opened her wardrobe, something caught her eye. a top she had worn from a concert she did in dublin, with marilyn monroe’s face as a pattern on it. she knew she’d wear it, but she had to find a swimsuit to wear first. she rifled through a drawer until she found a simple black one, nothing too special but nothing too drab either. she took off the pyjamas she was already wearing and stuck the swimsuit on. after that, she put on the top and paired it with some black shorts, nearly replicating the previous concert outfit.

five o’clock came quicker than billie thought, and soon after that she was on the way to your place. although you both lived in LA, you were pretty far from eachother. so billie decided to be safe rather than sorry & left early. when she got to the door, she hesitated to knock. your place was so big & modern that she was slightly intimidated by it. but after a minute of careful consideration, she knocked. you answered the door in seconds, dressed in a short dress. billie’s heart skipped a beat as you led her inside. she followed you to the kitchen, where she smelled the familiar aroma of her favourite noodle soup.

“i followed the recipe from your insta highlight,” you said, “so i hope it’s alright. i’m sure you make it better than i do.” billie thanked you for the meal as you both sat down at the table and began to eat. you talked about a lot of things… the grammys, the media, upcoming tours, etc. billie found herself falling more and more in love as the conversation went on. about 20 minutes later, billie finished her noodles at the same time you did, and again thanked you for it. you smiled and said it was no bother. “how do you fancy getting in the pool now?” you asked. “that sounds really good,” billie smiled, “i’ve got my swimsuit on under this, actually.” your smile lit up even further as you replied “i do too!”

you both got out of your clothes and hopped into the pool. “its so warm.” billie remarked. “yeah, i have heaters in it.” you said smiling. billie looked you up and down, in awe of your swimsuit that made you look like a goddess. you swam around together for a while before you left the pool, saying you’d be back in a minute. “ok, see ya in a minute.” billie replied, wondering what you were doing. billie was surprised when you came back with two wine glasses, and a bottle of a really expensive red wine. “wow,” billie said, “is this for us?” “well, who else would it be for?” you laughed. you poured the wine into the glasses, and handed billie one. she took a sip, and watched as you did the same. “it’s really good,” billie commented, “don’t think i’ve had this before.”

as the evening went on, you and billie drank more wine, and slowly got more tipsy. you smiled at billie as she told you about a song she was in the middle of recording, her face lighting up in excitement. “you’re so pretty.” you said abruptly without a warning. billie blushed. “so are you.” she responded, the alcohol making her more confident. “like- really pretty,” you went on, “super pretty.” billie didn’t know how to respond. being complimented by the woman she had a massive crush on? she was blushing like mad. “i could- i could just kiss you.” you said, a smirk on your face. billie didn’t respond as a shocked expression took over her face. you waited a few seconds before leaning in and kissing her. billie kissed back immediately, setting her glass on the side of the pool. you kissed her passionately, and she did the same. you continued like that for a while, until you were making out with eachother.

“wow.” was all billie said. “you’re a good kisser.” you remarked, a hand still on billie’s cheek. “i- i really liked that. like, really liked that.” billie confessed. “me too.” you smirked, before leaning in to kiss her again.

[ninyard]

Do you have any HCs for Kayleigh?? I always wonder about the pre-AFTG series story (and the big players).

There’s brief stuff in the EC abt Tetsuji & Kayleigh. but other than that it’s pretty blank?

Also the detail abt exy becoming popular partially via a manga ? I want the missing chapter when Tetsuji reacts to that 😭😭

Oh Kayleigh and Tetsuji!!!!!!!! I picture her so clearly in University in Dublin in her final year of Sports Management or whatever course she did, writing her thesis on mixed gender sports or the invention of new sports and sitting down with her thesis lecturer with this idea. Kayleigh finding a mentor in this man, or woman, and saying to them I want to do something bold, something amazing. She's on the Lacrosse team in UCD. She plays on as many of the teams that she can without jeopardising her studies.

Kayleigh moving to Japan for her masters, and meeting Tetsuji, and she sees herself in him, this glint in his eyes that says he needs to be destined for more. Them sitting across from each other in the library with books about sports and the invention of different things and Tetsuji looks at a sport like Lacrosse and says it's missing something. I think it could be better. And they spitball these ideas back and forth. Should it be on ice, bigger teams, smaller teams? Should it be outdoors or indoors? Is it violence? Is it violence that it's missing?

Kayleigh talking to her mom, sending letters to Ireland, making expensive phone calls in the middle of the night all the way across the world, begging her to send her VHS tapes of as many hurling games as she could find - her mother complaining about how expensive they'd be to ship to Japan, but she agrees anyway. Kayleigh finding as many books as she can about Irish sport and the history of it all. It's a couple of weeks before she get the package at her door, and she calls Tetsuji when he's in the middle of a lecture and tells him to come over. There in front of her is four, five, six tapes of All Ireland final matches, and they sit down in front of the TV with their notebooks in front of them.

They don't write anything after the first match, Tetsuji staring at the screen like he's taking it all in, Kayleigh staring at him with a smile on her face like this is what he was waiting to see. 70 minutes go by and she switches the tape out for another one, and then another, and another, and they stay up until the sun rises just taking notes and watching. Brainstorming. Kayleigh explains the rules to him. They draw pictures, and there's a million failed ideas that don't work, like a flat racquet more similar to a hurley than a lacrosse stick, or helmets more similar to a cricket helmet than an american football one. No armor, more armor, too much armor.

Them finding each other after class, and proposing this idea for their dissertation, their master's thesis, their final project, and getting a ridiculous look. Getting shut down, getting told it's ridiculous. So they do what they were supposed to do; make it fucking happen anyway.

They spend all the savings that they have, and Tetsuji contacts his family, and they get things shipped over to Japan - hurling helmets, hockey gear, lacrosse sticks. All these mish-mash element that creates the idea thats been living inside their heads. They have 10 different types of balls, a tennis ball, a cricket ball, a baseball, all these different options, and the two of them find out the schedule of all the pitches and fields and courts on campus and try it everywhere. It's messy, but it's exciting, and invigorating. They have their bulging notebooks on the ground, and every rule and idea they have, every thing that feels right or wrong, they write it down. They're taping weights around the lacrosse sticks to see if it feels better, padding out their gear with cardboard and duct tape. There's something missing, still. They try it on ice, and its too unbalanced and sloppy, but the first time Tetsuji shoots a ball at the plexiglass wall, and it rebounds right into Kayleigh's net, they both look at each other like that's it. That's what we've been missing. They jump on top of each other and get scolded for falling on the ice and screaming in the rink.

They figure out how much it would cost for them to rent out the unused college soccer pitch for the summer, and find ten of their friends and classmates and explain the rules as best they can. It's expensive, buying the gear for them all, figuring out how to surround the soccer pitch in plexiglass that's strong enough to not topple over from the weight of a person. They spend that summer finessing the rules, and finessing the positions, and teaching their friends how to play. By September, Tetsuji invites his family to watch, and Kayleigh invites their lecturers to watch, and there they stand. The first ever game of Exy.

It's not perfect - a goal falls over, the floor of the pitch isn't quite working, because they keep stumbling over their own feet when they run, but it's a brilliant thing to watch; something new, and unique, and never been done before. Kayleigh's team beats Tetsuji's team, and for a while they don't hear much. But their friends keep playing, they keep contacting people, making phonecalls to manufacturers and sports clubs.

I'm just thinking about those first few years where Kayleigh and Tetsuji probably spent every waking moment together just figuring it out. Their dorm rooms or apartments full of crap, different balls and equipment. Her bedroom wall covered in drawing and scraps of paper and ideas. Them spending most of their time on the phone with each other when they're not together in person. Thinking about them creating presentations and pitches and just trying to get their silly little idea of the ground, waiting for someone to take a chance on them, waiting for all the different sports committees and companies to call them back. A million "Sorry, no thank you!" emails and a million "It's just not something we can help you with" letters and phone calls. Until they get that one, then those two, those three words that say fucking go for it. The four words that say I believe in this.

I think about Kayleigh and Tetsuji running off of redbull and adrenaline, and how happy they would've felt when that first game finished and they saw something in each others eyes. Before their passion got killed by the reality, by the Moriyama's, by the world pushing them back again and again and again. But more of their classmates get involved. Somebody asked "What is it that you kids have built on the soccer field?" and then it's in a local paper. It's letters sent back to Ireland signed off in Japanese saying I can't wait to tell you what I've been working on.

Yeah. Yeah I have a lot of thoughts about Kayleigh. I have some images of her and Tetsuji in my head. Just a few!

[hannahssimblr]

We surface eventually, and clamber down the back stairs and out into sharp morning light, squinting against the sun. I feel like a vampire. My friends’ faces are gaunt and drawn, eyes still black. They look like they’ve been dead for a week. 

Except Jen, sober Jen, who smiles sleepily and stretches her arms, breath condensing in the cold air. “God, that was mad,” she says. “What time is it?”

“Eight,” I say. Being out in the daylight like this is always weird, with families walking around, people going to work, while we are like creatures who have dug our way out of the earth, lurching toward home amongst the living. My mouth is so dry, and my jaw hurts. I foresee an afternoon spent throwing up, head in the toilet bowl, groaning as Jonas hammers on the door, appealing to my sense of humanity by reminding me there’s only one bathroom in the apartment.   

“Oh, well, I should probably pack my bags and stuff.” Jen says.

I rub my eyes. “Oh, your flight.”

“Oh, Jen,” Dalia says with a big sad face, “I wish you could stay,” they hug, and rock each other side to side. “Please, come back and visit. This was so fun.”

“I swear!” Jen says. “I love you guys. Come see me in Dublin!”

“Don’t make them go there,” I say, to which she laughs. “Actually, yeah. Never mind. I’ll come back here! And for longer!”

“Please!” Elias and Dalia cry in unison, and then we leave, trudging toward the train station. 

She snoozes on my shoulder on the U-Bahn, while Jonas and I, wired, wide awake, stare at our reflections in the window all the way back to Kreutzberg. 

I lie on my bed, eyes on the cracks on the ceiling, while Jen shoves things into her suitcase. She’s cleaned off all her makeup, leaving black smudged wiped crumpled on the surrounding floor. 

“This was so fun,” she’s saying. “I had such a good time. I mean, last night was amazing. Did you see I kissed that girl with the fan?”

“The fan?”

“Yeah, she was carrying this weird, lacy fan. Anyway, she was dead pretty. I wish I’d gotten her number.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I tried, but she didn’t speak English. There was no point.”

“So you didn’t speak before you starting kissing her.”

“No, we didn’t need to. I just met her eyes across the dancefloor and we both knew.”

“Ah, nice.”

The mattress shifts under her weight, and her face slides into my vision, pink cheeked, with eyeliner still smudged in the spaces between her lashes. “You’re coming down.”

“Yep.”

“Poor Judie. Rough day ahead.”

“Honestly, it’ll probably be a few days. A week, even.”

“Oof. Do you do this a lot?”

“Too much, probably.”

“Oh well,” she plonks back down to the rug and continues shoving things into her case. “At least I know you’re having fun over here. I’d be worried you’re suffering.”

“Do you worry about that?”

“Kind of.”

I laugh gently. “No, Jenny. I’m not suffering. Things are good.”

She struggles with the zip, and it rasps lowly against the bulk. “I was worried I wouldn’t like your friends, you know. I’m glad I met them, because they’re amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I wish they were my friends. Jonas is adorable. Elias too, so fun, and Dalia is probably the coolest girl I ever met in my life. I never got to ask her what part of America she comes from.”

“Pittsburgh.”

“I dunno where that is.”

“Nowhere close to where I grew up.”

“You sound different when you talk to her.”

Turning my head is an effort, and the room lurches a little. Later, I’ll probably be so dizzy that standing up feels like getting off the waltzers. “How so?”

“Your accent gets more American. Did you know that?”

“No.”

“Well, it does. I suppose when you’re talking to someone from the states you kind of copy what they’re doing, or something. It’s just funny, because you weren’t like that at home.”

“With dad?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s not like I really talk to him, is it?”

She pauses thoughtfully. “Well, I’ve heard you say ‘okay’ to him a few times.”

“Hm,” I say. “Well, maybe I’ll lose my Irish accent while I’m here.”

“Would you like to?”

I shrug. “Sure.”

I shut my eyes in the hopes it will stave off the wave of dizziness that comes over me. My temples throb gently with the onset of a headache. I half listen as Jen goes on about how great my friends are, Jonas, Elias, Dalia. Perhaps she’s hoping I won’t notice who she has left out, but she is wrong. 

“What did you think of Astrid?” I say, and she pauses, just for a beat, before answering with enormous enthusiasm. 

“Oh, she’s gorgeous. You were right. Even better in person than in the pictures.”

“Yeah.” I roll on my side. “She’s incredible looking, I know, but… like, did you like her?”

“Of course I did.”

“Yeah?”

“She’s so nice.”

I hesitate. Astrid isn’t that nice. At least it’s not a word I would use to describe her ahead of something like intelligent, confident, shrewd. Out of all the traits she has that I admire, I couldn’t say her niceness is something that sticks out. It’s not important to me, and I require it from her. Nice isn’t untrue, exactly, but it's not a real answer.

“Your opinion is really important to me,” I say, and she busies herself in her backpack, double checking for her phone charger and passport. 

“No, I mean it,” she says distractedly. “She seems to care a lot about you, and that’s the main thing, you know what I mean?”

On my elbow now, I look at her, pulling things out of her bag and shoving them back in, and my anxiety rises. I wanted our dinner to go a little better, sure, and they could have hit it off more than they did, but Astrid is Astrid. She’s a tough nut to crack at the first meeting. It takes a while for her to warm up, to get comfortable. She takes some getting used to. 

“I know things were a bit awkward there, when we were talking about school, and she didn’t have anything to say and all that.”

She waves this off. “No, it’s fine. She didn’t have to say anything. I was more worried about whether we were annoying her by talking about it so much.”

“I doubt it.”

“It’s alright, like, she doesn’t need to have the same humour as me.”

I frown. “Well, you and I have the same humour. In fact, we’re so alike that I thought you’d get along with her.”

“We got along.”

“But you weren’t bowled over.”

She sighs, “Jude, don’t make me talk myself into an awkward position.”

“I’m not doing that. I’m just wondering what you thought.”

“Yeah, but it’s like you’re not accepting my answer.”

“You haven’t answered.”

“I have. I said she’s nice.”

“Yeah, but like, ‘nice’ is a non-answer.”

“She’s not what I expected, right? But there’s nothing wrong with that. I just always thought you’d prefer to go out with a girl that laughed at the same things as you, or was silly and goofy, or, I don’t know, less… severe. I’ll meet Astrid again, and I’m sure I’ll be bowled over. We just didn’t have a lot of time to get to know each other. It was only a few hours, and, I dunno, Jonas was there too, and I was talking to him, mostly.”

“I–” I decide to ignore the first part about the girls I supposedly like. “Well, I hope so. I’d be pretty sad if my girlfriend and my best friend didn’t get along.”

“Everyone is friendly here.”

“Right.”

“I can tell you don’t believe me.”

I sigh reluctantly, and fall back onto the bed. My headache makes my brain slosh against the inside of my skull. “Jenny, I do. I believe you,” I say. “And I’m glad you like her. It’d be really fucking shit for me if you didn’t.”

“Well, I do.”

“I’m glad.”

“Good.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[petermorwood]

Follow-up, as promised...

Further to this post, I went rummaging.

My stars, it turns out we've got some serious goodies at the back of the cupboard.

They've all been here long enough that @dduane and I will eat well this next week or so, but the first of them, mentioned often by Dracula Daily...

...“We left in pretty good time, and came after nightfall to Klausenburgh. (Cluj) Here I stopped for the night at the Hotel Royale (AFAIK, fictional) I had for dinner, or rather supper, a chicken done up some way with red pepper, which was very good but thirsty. (mem. get recipe for Mina.) I asked the waiter, and he said it was called “paprika hendl” and that, as it was a national dish, I should be able to get it anywhere along the Carpathians.”

...is this one.

This is a standard bung-it-in-the-microwave ready meal (3 mins / 700w, wait 3 mins, eat) but there's no reason why it can't be prettied up a bit.

Taste report: the flavour was creamy, buttery, paprika-y, and entirely pleasant (if there were more of these I would scoff them) and the Nockerl (mini dumplings) were properly al dente and excellent, but it was by no means "thirsty", by which I assume spicy-hot. Okay, it wasn't labelled as such, but it was even milder than any Paprikahendl I've eaten in a restaurant.

I suspect that, like most ready-meals of this kind, including curries and chili-con-carne, its spice level has been dialled down to Avoid Shocking The Customers, though TBH most German / Austrian dishes labelled Scharf, Feurig or Würzig (all meaning spicy or hot) have been lacking in the oomph department, at least for me. (Some haven't, which is always a pleasant surprise.)

I'm going to make my own Paprikahendl in the next while because I got some sweet and hot paprikas from Polonez in Dublin, and right now, DD is in the process of making Paprikaente, based on several Paprikahendl recipes and a couple of duck breasts found at the back of the freezer. I don't know if that's authentic or not, but it smells great and I don't care. :->

*****

I've suggested in another post why Jonathan Harker found this dish "thirsty".

It wasn't because he he had a wimpy English palate unaccustomed to spicy food - the Edwardian era was familiar with fiery curries from Raj India, and even featured cayenne pepper as a table condiment, complete with its own caddy and (often devil-topped) spoon...

My opinion was that Paprikahendl (Austrian) / Paprikás csirke (Hungarian) was a peasant dish, with the main part of the meal a big dish of noodles or dumplings. Those would be perked up with a sauce based on some elderly chicken which had stopped laying, well-spiced so a little could flavour a lot.

Those noodles have lots of names - nockerln on the packet I posted, also nokoldel, csipetke, spaetzle, tarhhonya and so on - and were what filled people up, with the meat accompaniment more of a relish or seasoning. In the same way, for instance, Yorkshire Pudding used to be served with gravy as a first course, so the second course of meat would go further.

Rice / bread / couscous/ pasta / mian / potatoes / fufu / polenta etc. did the same; many of these are served alongside rich, spicy, buttery etc. dishes and are now suggested as fire extinguishers for "over-hot" foods because the proportions of bland vs rich / spicy have shifted.

Back when, dinner would have been lots of name-the-regional-bland carbohydrate, along with a little bit of over-hot (or -garlicked or -herby or -smoked-bacon / sausagey) protein, which might have tasted excessive alone but would have given flavour to all that bland.

*****

Side-note: it's another possible reason, besides conspicuous consumption, for lots of spice in (rich people's) medieval dishes; in winter and spring, all that spice would have made smoked / salted / dried meat more interesting.

The business of "spices masked bad meat" is rubbish, and originated as recently as 1939 thanks to historian J.C. Drummond, who didn't know what "green" meant in food context. Green cheese = fresh cheese, green meat = un-aged meat.

Drummond assumed a recipe to change the flavour of "green venison" was to cover that it had gone off. It was in fact meant to tenderise it as if hung a few days in the cold store, but "medieval people were primitive" has always been more acceptable pop history than "medieval people were pretty smart".

*****

Harker, eating the chicken-and-sauce as The Meal (Stoker doesn't mention accompaniments or Bulk Carbs like noodles, spaetzle, etc. so you'll have to trust me), would have been like someone taking a swig of hot sauce or chomp of chilli pickle and then declaring the entire meal over-spiced or "thirsty", unaware of the proper proportions of What Goes With What.

A hotter, spicier, "thirstier" Paprikahendl would definitely go with a big mound of these little noodles, so I plan to see - and taste - how it'll work.

And how it'll look, too. :->

[misskattylashes]

Okay, people have been asking me about Alex singing Star Treatment to Miles in Dublin night 2. So I thought I would do a breakdown of the Milex related lyrics:

I Just wanted to be one of The Strokes

Now look at the mess you made me make

Hitchhiking with a monogrammed suitcase

This is Alex lamenting on how he is wanted to form a band to play Strokes songs, but somehow he has ended up a superstar who is a bit lost

Miles away from any half-useful imaginary highway

There is a debate around this, like if he means he is far from reality, or indeed Miles is away from him now

I’m a big name in deep space

Ask your mates but golden boy’s in bad shape

I found out the hard way

That here ain’t no place for dolls like you and me

He’s famous but in a bad way because reality has made him realise it is impossible for him and Miles to be as they were (Dolls = Puppets) – proof of this is when he gestures to himself and Miles in Dublin.

Maybe I was a little too wild in the 70s

Rocket-ship grease down the cracks of my knuckles

EYCTE had a 70s vibe about it with a lot of references to Bowie etc. And indeed Alex was extremely wild!

Rocket-ship grease....ahem interpret as you wish. But let’s not forget a rocket is phallic shaped!

Love came in a bottle with a twist off cap

Let’s all have a swig and do a hot lap

This could be lube ..poppers...booze all three. Hot lap can mean something very NSFW but it is also associated with racing and alludes to how quickly everything happened during EYCTE.

But it’s alright ‘cause you love me

And you recognize that it ain’t how it should be

Alex is sure that Miles loves him and understands that their situation is shit.

Jukebox in the corner

Long hot summer

They’ve got a film up on the wall, and it’s dark enough to dance

They listened to Long Hot Summer by the Style Council during the writing of EYCTE.

Why does it need to be dark to dance? Alex has previously used dance as a metaphor for sex, so.....

Back down to earth with a lounge singer shimmer

Elevator down to my make believe residency

From the honeymoon suite

Once again, back to earth after EYCTE. Make believe residency can allude to the fact that the majority of his AM images have been him pretending to be someone else.

Honeymoon suite. Him and Miles were so happy during EYCTE it was like a honeymoon period.

So in a nutshell, Star Treatment is about the fact that real life means the little bubble him and Miles lived in during EYCTE isn’t compatible with real life. But he is sure of Miles’ love and that he appreciates it can’t be how he wants it.

Let’s not forget in the Mexico Tour video from 2019, the turtle segment has the original version of One Point Perspective with Alex singing ‘one more year I’ll call it quits’. Was that the original plan? One album then out? But for some reason things changed ...

Hope this clarifies things a bit. One day I would love to analyse the whole TBHC album.

[sl-newsie]

Query: Q x 00 Agent- Ch. 3: Whatever It Takes

The next day I have to head back to MI6 for one last training session, where I run into Bond.

“You’re off to Hong Kong now?” I pant as I dab my sweaty face off.

Bond gives a stiff nod. “And you, little Levie, are off to Ireland. I’m guessing Q treated you well, Mrs. White?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Haha, very funny. Did you think I’d like him because he’s younger?”

The older agent simply shrugs and the gleam in his eye is undisguisable.

“Bravo, Bond. You’ve still got a sense of humor.”

We keep walking to the office space in a comfortable silence. “Joking aside, congratulations on your first solo mission,” Bond says sincerely. “It’s a big moment for you. Still, I’ll be sad to not have you with me. You’re one of my favorite partners.”

I playfully punch his shoulder. “Because I keep your ego in check?”

“Because you’re the only one I treat like a sister.”

I grin. “Aw. Big brother’s going to miss me.”

Once we’ve gotten to the office center we both spot Q, Eve, and M waiting for us.

“Say goodbye, Bond.” M instructs. “This may be the last time you two see each other.”

Bond and I exchange looks. I must say I am nervous about being on my own, but Bond’s prepared me well.

“Good luck, Bond. The whole force is counting on you, no pressure.”

“Goodbye, Levie.” Bond gives my hand a sturdy shake. “You don’t need luck, because I know you’ll do brilliant. You’re still young, but healthily spirited. Just don’t let your heart get in the way.”

With that, he follows M down the hall and for the first time we go our separate ways. 

“Is he still mad at me for shooting him?” Eve asks.

“Hasn’t mentioned it, at least not to me. But I do know one thing:” I look up with a slightly defiant demeanor. “If I had been on that mission with Bond, I would have jumped off that bridge after him. I don’t care what M says, I don’t leave a man behind.” I look at Q and ask: “When do I leave for Ireland?”

“In one hour. I will quickly brief you on a few last minute updates on your way to the airport.”

“You won't be accompanying me, husband?” I bring up the repeating joke as we start walking out.

It either flies over his head or he ignores it. “I don’t like flying.”

“It’s rather accelerating,” I comment as we enter a company SUV. “You should try it again. It makes you think.”

Q sets his face straight and begins looking through some paper files in his bag. “I can do much better thinking at home with my cats.”

Huh. Nerd guy who sits at a computer desk with cats. Who knew?

“You seem like a cat person. I respect that.”

Q accepts my statement with a small grin. “At least there’s one person who does.”

The quick trip through the airport flashes by, and soon enough I’m seated in first class and headed off to Ireland. From what Q tells me, I am to penetrate a secret lab and retrieve a formula for a new type of cyanide. Not as extreme as Bond’s assignment, but I’m still excited. Over the flight, Q apparently took the liberty of placing a few audio books in my bag.

“Hello, 0011. Or Levie, as Bond called you. I still prefer Mrs. White. I’ve recorded a few history books to entertain you for the duration of your flight, because I picture you as more of a history fan rather than a science geek such as myself. Your options are: The American Revolution, World War II, or the Spanish Civil War.”

I chose World War II and am surprised to find that I actually enjoy Q lecturing about history. Something about his voice makes it seem like a hobby rather than a chore. Maybe it’s because he’s younger? Why am I becoming friends with my Quartermaster?

In an hour I arrive in Dublin and meet up with my contact at a local pub called The Cobblestone. He’s a local Paddy with a thick accent, who tells me that the best way for me to sneak into the lab is through the sewer tunnels much to my distaste.

“What I’m wondering is why a lass like you is charged with this mission,” the man thinks out loud.

I down the whiskey I’ve ordered and narrow my eyes. “Don’t underestimate a 00 agent.”

Nighttime falls and my nerves are a jumbled mess. Unlike Bond I don’t always dress in fancy attire for missions. Instead I’m sporting a long-sleeved black jumpsuit with dress flats. Less stylish, but effective. I station myself a few yards from the sewer entrance outside the lab. After I put in my earpiece both M and Q’s voices ring in my ear.

“Voice check, please,” Q requests.

“Good evening lady and gentleman. Tonight’s forecast calls for one 00 agent and the loss of one cyanide formula. Possible celebration may be sighted in the morning.”

“Very cute,” Q replies dryly. “I expect you’re dressed for the occasion?”

I smirk from behind the tree I’m using to hide. “Wouldn’t you like to know, dear?”

“Can we cut the jibber jabber and focus?” M states harshly. “0011, are you in position?”

My agent instincts kick in and I stiffen up. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. You are clear to proceed.”

Thankfully the sewer entrance doors aren’t locked, but I wish it didn’t smell so putrid. It seems luck is on my side because there are no lights to expose my location. However there is one security camera.

“Q, I’d very much appreciate it if you could disable the camera.”

On the other end I hear the nerd chuckle. “Oh? I thought you liked drawing attention to yourself.”

“Just kill the bloody camera!”

He does so without another word and soon the blinking light on the camera dies. I keep scrolling through the checklist in my mind of everything I need to accomplish, deciding that I can continue on. Once I scale down the ladder into the inky darkness I switch on my night vision contact lenses. I have a few rat friends to accompany me but other than that there’s no security here. 

“Now go to your right for about 50 paces, then turn left,” Q voices in my ear.

“0011, there appears to be a maximum of only 5 guards in the area you will be infiltrating,” M adds. 

Only 5? Bond and I have a record of taking out 50 in 10 minutes. But a rookie mission is a rookie mission.

Now I’ve arrived at a small door. Still no sign of trouble.

“This leads to the boiler room,” Q informs. “No human heat signatures detected.”

There’s just one problem: the door’s lock is far beyond crackable. Normally Bond is the one for cracking locks while I stand watch, but it’s time to be adaptable. Somewhere in my pocket- I think there’s…

“0011, what’s taking so long?” M asks.

“Trying to bust the lock. Ever heard of liquid nitrogen?”

I take out a small vial and tilt it to apply the cold substance over the lock. After a few moments the metal freezes over, and after a hard kick it shatters to the floor.

“All done.”

I burst through the door holding my pistol and search for any threats in the boiler room. Only a few leaky faucets. 

“We can’t scramble all the cameras in the building. You should be on their radar now. If anyone asks, you are here for an appointment with Dr. Lambert,” M says. “Mention Project Ares.”

“Seems like a rather late appointment,” I comment as I make my way up the stairs and out of the room. “Where to now?”

Q speaks up. “Turn left, then take the elevator to the 5th level.”

Right as rain, the elevator is right down the hall. Unfortunately I’m not the only one riding it. There’s one older man and a younger woman who appears to be a secretary.

“Going up?” The woman asks.

“Yes, please.”

I hope for there to be no conversation on our ascent but am proven unlucky.

“That’s a lovely necklace,” the man comments.

“Thank you. It’s a gift from my husband.” I finger the blue pendant, letting it comfort my nerves.

"You're not wearing a ring?"

"I'm afraid I lost it a few weeks ago."

“Where do you work?” the secretary inquires.

I keep a steady smile. “I don’t work here. I’m visiting on account of my boss to visit Dr. Lambert.”

This surprises the older man. “Really? I didn’t think Norman took appointments this late.”

“It’s a special case. For Project Ares.”

This quiets both people and we ride the rest of the way in silence. Obviously Project Ares is a big deal. The elevator drops me off at the 5th floor and I give a wave goodbye to the two employees. 

“I’m on the 5th level.”

“Good. Now go straight until you see a door marked X,” Q says.

I walk a few feet down and sure enough there’s a door with a large X on the front. You’d think this project would be hidden better. This lock may pose another issue because it’s activated by a fingerprint-

“Miss? What are you doing here?” A voice asks.

I keep my cool and pivot to find a man in a lab coat walking towards me. He looks to be in his mid-thirties, with light brown hair and a little stubble. Must be a scientist.

“Ah, yes. I was looking for Dr. Lambert. It’s about Project Ares.”

The man’s face lights up. “You must be the reporter! Yes yes, come in!”

He strides past me and swipes a card to open the door, gesturing for me to follow him. This seems too easy. The room I enter is obviously a lab, one filled with many different vials and chemistry equipment.

“Are you in?” M asks in my ear.

“I had a little help,” I whisper to keep discreet from the man behind me. “What am I looking for?”

“A test tube full of the new formula,” Q says. “Any amount of a sample. Who helped you in?”

“One of the project scientists. He thinks I’m a reporter.”

“Over here!” The man in question beckons me over to a table that displays a rack of test tubes. “My name is Watson, by the way. Daniel Watson in case you’re going to include me. But I don’t care for fame, I only want to help with the progress of science.”

Aw. I’m beginning to feel sad for stealing from you.

“Is this the new cyanide formula I heard about?” I try to sound unbearably dumb.

“Indeed it is! This is our company’s most recent accomplishment, one we boys in the lab are extremely proud of. Its symptoms are quick to take over the body’s cardiovascular system and can go undetected through drug screens.”

Thank God I have a pencil and small pad of paper in my pocket so I actually look like a reporter. I write down all highlights of his lecture while side-eyeing the tubes within an arm's reach. So close! 

“Do you have any other questions?”

I zoom back to focus on Watson, trying to think of a way to sneak a vial… What would Bond do? Huh. There’s no question about what he would do. Whatever it takes to make them lower their guard.

“No, I don’t think so,” I use a more airy voice as I bat my eyelashes at the scientist. “Thank you so much, Watson! My boss will love hearing about this!” I put away my pad of paper and saunter over to the blushing man. “How can I ever repay the favor?”

He shakes his head frantically. “No, that’s not necessary. Achievement through science is it’s own reward.”

Now I’ve got him trapped against the counter. “That’s not always enough. Maybe just one kiss?”

Before he can decline I press a firm kiss to his lips, rendering him speechless. In a split-second I look to see that he has his eyes closed, right as I slip a vial into my chest pocket. When I pull away, Watson still can’t find words to say.

“Thanks again, Watson!” I wave as I strut out. “Q, M, I have it. Ready for a quick exit before they ring the alarm.”

“Right. This time you’re going to use the stairs, a few paces down to your right,” Q states.

Is it just me or is he acting a bit differently?

“Everything alright, Quartermaster?” I ask as I begin my descent.

“Peachy. Will you please continue with the mission?”

“I thought I was. Did I do something wrong?”

He doesn’t answer, which just makes me even more curious. By now I’m at the 2nd floor-

Beep! Beep! Beep!

“Bad news, folks. Watson turned traitor on me.”

“Who?” Q asks with disgust.

“Doesn’t matter. Right now I have to get out.”

“I just detonated an explosive on the south side of the building to cover your exit window. You're welcome.”

My eyebrows raise in surprise. “Thanks very much, chap. Remind me to repay the favor someday.”

“B squad, you check the bottom levels. We’ll get the upper floors!” Voices shout from below.

Uh-oh. Looks like I’ll have to take a detour to the ground floor. I make a dash for the exit and find multiple security guards scurrying all throughout the hall. The lobby is only a few yards away-

“Miss! Quick, there’s been a security breach. You must get evacuated and head home immediately,” one man in a suit informs me.

I play dumb. “Oh my goodness! What happened?”

“A bomb exploded at the end of the property so we’re evacuating all staff. Now hurry!”

Pretending to be in a jumbled panic like everyone else, I flock down the hall and am almost there-!

“Hold up! Where’s your badge?” One guy stops me just before I reach the lobby. A college jock if I ever saw one.

“Well, you see sir,” I bat my eyelashes. “I was having a private meeting with one of your employees that shall go unnamed. That’s how my business works. Technically I’m not supposed to be here, but he needed some stress relief, if you catch my drift. Do you think you could possibly look the other way and let me slip out?”

Lord save my soul. I can’t even register my own words as they pour almost too easily from my mouth. I really have learned a lot from Bond. And it must work, because the young guard is now looking at me with a new-found hunger.

“I dunno about that, but I’ll let it slide if you use that pretty mouth of yours to give me a little loving.”

It’s all I can do not to vomit. “Very well.” I take his hand and lead him to a nearby closet, locking the door behind me. “One kiss, one favor? Sounds enchanting.” I give him a blunt punch to the head and he drops to the ground, out cold. “But I’ve already had my date for the evening.”

I hide him behind a crate and sprint for the lobby, speeding through the door into the cool night air towards the rendezvous point for my getaway. Once I’ve cleared the hill and the lab is out of sight I relax. Finally! I’ve done it! My first mission-!

Bam!

The shot rings out and I stop dead in my tracks. The blood is already dripping down my pant leg. I’ve been lucky to have been shot only twice before, both in the arm. But this is my first leg injury. And I don’t like it.

The guard who’s holding the gun is standing a short distance behind me. “I won’t miss next time. You seemed unfamiliar when I saw you earlier. Now tell me, who are you? And don’t bother trying to sell the whole reporter scheme. Tell me who you’re working for!”

Bond wouldn’t have gotten into this. Think, think! 

I kneel down and make it seem as if I’m surrendering, then-

“Ah!”

My knife, Mrs. White, lands perfectly in the center of the guard’s chest. Thanks, Q. He topples over and, with what force I can muster with a shot leg, I jog over and knock him out cold. That’s one check off the list. But my adrenaline is wearing off and the injury’s starting to get to me.

“Q? M? Anybody copy?” I grunt as I keep walking, wanting to get to the rendezvous point as quickly as possible.

“Q here. Sorry about that, got caught up with Bond’s radio call. What’s up?”

“Agent wounded. I’ve been shot in the thigh, losing blood fast. How far away is the car?”

It’s like I flipped a switch when I said ‘shot,’ because now Q’s manner has definitely changed.

“I see your position. Keep going straight for another 50 yards, and whatever you do don’t fall asleep. Is your head spinning?”

“Starting to. I’m not sure if the bullet nicked the femoral artery, but I’m fresh out of tourniquets.”

“Stay calm, keep your breathing steady. Do you think you can last?”

I try to give a laid-back chuckle but it turns into a short coughing fit, bringing up specs of blood on my hand. “You should know, Quartermaster, that my intentions as a 00 agent keep me motivated to keep going until I literally die? Yes, I can last.”

Q is quiet for a time, leaving me to notice how heavy my breathing has gotten. My leg feels numb now, which cannot be a good thing.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes,” I answer in a tired voice. “Would you mind chatting with me so I can ignore death?”

“I’d think that you would have kicked death in the crotch by now,” Q jokes lightheartedly. “You’re almost there, just a few more yards. Don’t mess up, or you’ll be the first agent to die under my watch.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t. I’m going to rub my victory in your face when I get back.”

“There’s the 0011 I remember,” he groans. “Just get back alive.”

I’d really like to, but my head’s starting to feel even more dizzy. So much for a flawless first solo mission. Is this really how I’m going to go out? Slowly bleeding to death? I’d hoped my death would be something dramatic. Should I say goodbye to everyone? It would mean I’m accepting defeat, but I’d be disappointed not say farewell to my few friends. Bond, Eve, the other 00s, M- Q? Is Q my friend? That would be the first time I’ve been friends with my Quartermaster. It’s not like he’s unlikeable, only annoying at times. Annoying, witty, attractive-

The new thought makes me go into another coughing fit. Q, attractive? My blood loss is clearly making me delusional. He’s mildly cute at best. Wait- no. Why am I cogitating about his appealing looks? Just keep focused and stay alive!

“Q, I’m starting to see spots.” I look behind and see a pathetic trail of blood behind me.

“You’re almost there. Do you see the car yet?”

“I see a bright light-”

“No! Not that one-!”

“Just kidding. Yes, I see it.”

Q sighs. “Shut your trap and get in the bloody car before I tell them to leave you behind.”

I try to laugh but end up spitting up more blood. Now the driver of the black Jeep sees me limping towards her and she rushes over to help.

“Are you 0011?”

“Yeah. Or at least I’ll stay that way if I can stay alive.”

“Stay calm, miss! I’m going to get the stretcher-”

“Forget it. If I can walk this far I can walk 10 more feet to the back of the car.”

The driver quickly opens the rear food and I climb inside with what little strength I have left. As soon as I’m seated my eyes begin to droop and she panics.

“No, no sleeping! We need to get your wound dressed…”

Her words are drowned out by my building fatigue, and soon all I can hear is my faint heartbeat as I start to drift off. So close… Maybe if I wake up after this I’ll copy Bond and top it off with a drink…

[lavender-romancer]

Crosses on my body

Part Five Tommy Shelby x Reader

You were a nun in Dublin but when you decided to take action against those in powerful positions in the church you had to escape. When you turn up in Birmingham and begin a relationship with Tommy Shelby will he be able to protect you from your past?

”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

previous chapter

"We'll be in touch?" You mocked Fagan's tone. "What a pretentious cunt," you said before taking a swig of beer as you and Tommy sat in the Garrison.

"And to think he interrupted our first kiss that lasted more than a few seconds," Tommy joked and you raised an eyebrow.

"Did you just make a joke, Mr Shelby ?" You asked.

"Perhaps." He smirked.

"Maybe I should move," you commented and Tommy answered almost too quickly.

"No," he paused, collecting himself. "They know where you are now so you'll be followed, at least here you can be protected."

"You're keen to keep me around," you raised an eyebrow and Tommy rolled his eyes.

"Oh, get over it. A car will take you back to the house, I have to take care of some things here," your knees touched his under the bar and you allowed yourself to smile.

This was the first time you'd been able to walk around the whole house without interruption, it was immensely overwhelming. You'd never been in a house this big let alone slept in one, so you had no idea there were so many different rooms. The amount of bathrooms in this house was frankly outrageous but when you saw the grand portrait next to the staircase you were taken aback. Charlie, Tommy… and Grace. The three of them looked so regal, so purposeful. It felt like Grace's eyes followed you as you walked up the stairs, feeling like you were intruding on a family that didn't need you. Tommy's generosity was not lost on you but neither were the circumstances of Tommy and his son. Losing a wife and a mother would have been a catastrophic loss, you never wanted anyone to think you were inserting yourself into the dynamic.

You went up to the spare bedroom you'd been staying in and took a deep breath, smelling the dried lavender that stood in a vase near the window. It was time to ask for much needed guidance from the Lord to show you the way your journey would continue.

"O Holy Spirit of God," you paused and closed your eyes, leaning your forehead on your clasped hands. "Take me as your disciple. Guide me, illuminate me, sanctify me. Bind my hands that they may do no evil, cover my eyes that they may see it no more, sanctify my heart that evil may not dwell within me. Be my God, my guide."

You took a deep breath and sat on the bed, there was still no voice. God still hid himself from you and after having his constant guidance for so long you didn't know how to proceed.

"Reveal yourself to me, oh mighty God. Search me, oh God, and know my heart. Try me, and know my thoughts, see if there is any wicked way in me, and lead me in the everlasting way." You whispered before making the cross on your body.

The absence of the Lord in your life was a deep wound you weren't sure how to heal. You were always taught that if God hid himself from you that you had not accepted him as your sovereign, your one and only guide. But you did what was right, surely God would not want corruption in his church?

Perhaps your sin of leaving the church in Dublin was too great for him to forgive you. Even confessional was out of the question, you knew that word went around the parishes. For the first time you no longer felt safe anywhere in the Catholic Church. You knew then that you had to destroy the rot that was growing within it.

Tommy was reading some budget proposals from Michael and he couldn't stop his mind getting distracted by thinking of you. How you smelled, what it felt like to kiss you… No. He had to focus. But fuck, you were just a constant figure in his mind, the protagonist of his thoughts.

"Fucking nuns," Tommy muttered under his breath as he turned over the next piece of paper.

"Tommy, you've got an appointment. Cars waiting outside," Lizzy poked her head round the door and Tommy nodded. Looking in his diary he was to go to the opening of the children's home in Grace's name.

The whole affair felt forced when it was one thing he was especially proud of. Even though he was once these children with no stable support now it felt like there was a barrier between the two of them. His old life and his new life didn't intermix. There was no way to go back to being that boy from watery lane, no way to overcome his unforgiving ambition that put him in this situation in the first place.

"Mr Shelby," a name called him out of his daydream, he turned and it was Fagan. "I'm having this office, Mr Shelby. I can take the children to confession every second Sunday and not be too far from your offices at the same time." Tommy stayed silent and Fagan smiled before walking away.

Tommy's teeth might fall out if he continued grinding them like this, his jaw set into a most aggravated place. Fists clenched with no opportunity to launch them into Fagans' shit eating grin as he threatened to hurt you.

You sat on your bed, whiskey in hand, staring at the wall in a trance-like state of numbness. The misfortune of your life felt deserved in some ways. You had committed the greatest sin of being born to an unwed mother, your life beginning in such religious depravity must mean you deserve this treatment from the church. Your own self-pity sickened you but, you didn't know how else to come to terms with the fact you would never be safe again and never enter a Catholic church in this country or Ireland again. This control that Catholicism had on the way you lived your life, for the first time was unacceptable and unforgivable.

After dedicating your youth, your innocence to the institution of religion you had been shunned for wanting to reveal sin in your home. You wanted to wash it all away. Wash away the knowledge and the rituals and the love for Christ. In your soul you always felt that your love of God and Mother Mary compelled you to reveal the exploitation within the church. But if this was your Godly mission, why were you tested by your own people in such a way?

You heard the front door open, it was a large and slightly old door so the creaks and cracks would sound throughout the whole house. Tommy must be back by now, you said to yourself- trying to convince yourself he hadn't left you too. Your mood seemed to lift exponentially, even the possibility of it being Tommy made you happier. It was dangerous how much power you were putting into his hands but you trusted him. More than anyone else in your life.

Walking out of your room you stayed on the landing, cautious of getting in the way of his work. You peered round the wall next to the staircase and saw him taking off his coat and handing it towards Francis before heading up the stairs. He was walking but was too quick for you, you had just made it back to your door when he caught sight of you.

"Waiting for me, were you?" He asked with a smirk and you rolled your eyes.

"You wish that I was," you turned to him and ran a hand through your hair.

"I just know that you missed me." He said decidedly whilst leaning against the door to your bedroom and staring you up and down.

"What would you like to do this evening?" You asked and he paused.

"What I would like is to be close to you and snuff out anything or anyone who intends to stop me doing that." Tommy leant forward and kissed you on the cheek, you opened your bedroom door and left it open for him.

A few moments later, Tommy was leaning on your chest as you stroked his hair. You lay in silent understanding that you needed one another, to what degree you weren't sure. But regardless, right now you needed one another.

"Why do you feel drawn to me?" You asked quietly and Tommy looked up at you.

"What do you mean?" He looked confused or possibly offended.

"I'm almost the antithesis of you, we have commonalities but… my faith? Doesn't it pose a difficult situation for you to understand?" You pushed his hair backwards and continued playing with it. Tommy didn't answer for a while and just looked up at your face in quiet contemplation.

"It's your eyes," He paused. "There's a darkness that I am inexplicably drawn to as if I can't control it. I believe in many ways we are the same, but it's the differences that entice me."

"Entice?" You questioned with a stifled laugh.

"Oh, fuck off." Tommy buried his head in your chest.

"Do you want to learn to pray the rosary? I know you'll never do it but knowledge is power." Tommy nodded and you sat up, pulling your rosary from around your neck and knelt by the side of the bed.

"I do know how. To a certain point, my aunt taught me but I don't remember much of it." Tommy looked at you and you nodded.

"Well it can take a long time depending on the prayer you choose but I'll just show you a decade." You began teaching Thomas to pray a decade of the rosary, what each bead meant and the prayer you would say. He listened in respectful silence and whilst you knew you weren't doing this to inspire religiosity, you appreciated his attention all the same.

Peaky blinders taglist: @queenofkings1212 @severewobblerlightdragon @cl5369 @fairypitou @stressedandbandobessed7771 @shadow-of-wonder @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns @curled-hair-red-lips @lucystivinsky1315 Series taglist: @juicyj28 @alessioayla @fmo166 @eugene-emt-roe @wednesdayismyfunday @iwannabeinthesequalmrghostface @surazim

[blamemma]

thank u for the tag @semperama 😌 any opportunity to talk about my favourite thing! books! 😌

An estimate of how many physical books I own: where i live currently i have 132 physical books, but i also have some in storage and some in my parents house, so i would guess maybe about 220-250 maybeeee

Favorite author: i really don't have a stand out author...authors who have published my favouriteeee ever books have then produced really lackluster other works in my opinion....i feel like someone who never lets me down is ottessa moshfegh because u get what u get with her but i don't think i'd claim her as an outright favourite??

A popular book I've never read and never intend to read: truly anything by colleen hoover i am all for big popular books that get a large specific audience reading again, but we can do better by young girls and get them reading something sliiiightttllyyyy better (not shitting on anyone who enjoys colleen hoover, again they cater to a specific market and i think thats great, just not my cup of tea, but from what i've heard she's got a couple of questionable opinions)

A popular book I thought was just meh: normal people! :)) god it bored me sooooooooo much which is a shame cause the tv show slaps

Longest book I own: a suitable boy by vikram seth, 1474 pages!!!!!!!! and i read it in two weeks during the height of covid lockdown and it was EXCELLENT

Longest series I own all the books to: probably game of thrones....never been a massive series gal so yeah thats the only one i can think of off the top of my head?

Prettiest book I own: i have a really beautiful collection of charles dickens' books even though i'm not his biggest fan at all (loved david copperfield, enjoy a christmas carol, have read great expectations) but they were a gift and they do look really pretty on my shelves at my parents house!

A book or series I wish more people knew about: urmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm okay not to like talk about it again.............but at swim two boys............it was highly applauded when it was first published and was very popular but feel like it's popularity waned but its got two boys trying to resist falling in love and choosing to spend time together by learning to swim in the cold dublin sea.......the tumblr girlies would eat that up nowadays......also bewilderment by richard powers i think everyone should read that book 😌

Book I'm reading now: briefly, a delicious life by nell stevens....only about 50 pages in so far but good fun, a sapphic ghost love story from what i can tell so far so intriguing....

Book that's been on my TBR list for a while but I still haven't got around to it: the fifth season by n.k. jemisin.....tried reading it but wasn't in a sci-fi mood so only got one chapter in and then it has just.....sat there......for like.....two years......

Do you have any books in a language other than English: no and i am ashamed.....

Paperback, hardcover, or ebook?: paperback anyyyyyyyyyyy day of the week let me BREAK that spine let me make you look worn and loved and read let me chuck you into my bag and u barely add any weight!!! i dont hate a hardback but avoid buying them unless it is a book i am DESPERATE to read asap or it's at a good price but yeah i am a paperback girlie <3 don't own an e-reader apart from having the kindle app on my ipad so v rarely venture into e-books and i am sorry but nothing beats the feel of a book in ur hands like i need to feeeeel the pages

tagging @gokartkid @monagasque @lilyrizzy & @karlmarxverstappen if u would like xx

[denimbex1986]

'Every single time Andrew Scott has a big event coming up, he does one thing without fail. “I just whack on a load of moisturiser, because you don't want to come off as exhausted when you have to go to these things,” he says over Zoom. “No matter what type of moisturiser it is, just put as much of it on as you can. It'll keep your skin alive.” And if there's one event to do that for, it's the Emmys, where he was just nominated for 'Outstanding Lead Actor' for his role in Ripley.

But before the event itself, Scott sounds a little... tired? “I just got here last night,” he says from his hotel room in Los Angeles. “I'm literally only here for 24 hours, and then I have to do a film, a World War II film.” But even though the Irish actor's on two different timezones, there's still energy to be enjoyed. This is the Emmys, after all. And he's wearing something truly sick.

“It's Vivienne Westwood, which I'm very excited about. I absolutely adore Vivienne Westwood, and I think it's kind of rare that you get to wear Westwood menswear," he says. “And I just had a really good time collaborating with the team. They're really fun, great people to work with.” The chocolate brown suit is amped up by fanged-out lapels that extend way past his shoulders. His shirt, in black, is fitted with a flurry of dramatic ruffles across the front. “It's a bit rock and roll, it's a bit punk, but it's still very, very beautiful.” Which is what Vivienne Westwood is all about.

And it's his first time on the red carpet in this hallowed label. “I actually wore Westwood in Sherlock,” says Scott. “Moriarty had a Westwood suit, and back then, I remember it was one of the first costumes that I was genuinely excited about. So even though this is my first time wearing them [to an event], I feel like I have a sort of strange history with them already.”

It wasn't always like this, though. When asked if he remembered his first big fit that he wore to his first big event, he let out a nervous laugh. “Wow, God,” he says. “Back in the day I rented something from a dodgy tux place in Dublin, and I'll always remember how bad the trousers fitted. But that taught me how important fit actually is. Sure, your suit can be very expensive, but if it's a little too big or the sleeves are a little too short, it won't look good.”

His first outfit also reminded the 47-year-old actor of how much menswear has evolved over the past few years. “Back then, I think the thing I didn't always love was how every guy looked more or less exactly the same. You had to wear a black tie, and that was kind of really your only option. I think you can be so much more creative now, and you can find stuff that really suits you, because not everybody is going to suit wearing a, you know, black tie the whole time. Not everybody is going to suit black and white.”

And that's one of the main reasons why Andrew Scott was so gassed about wearing Vivienne Westwood to the Emmys. “Events like these, for the most part, are celebrations. They're celebrations of your work. They're a party. So not only should you feel comfortable with what you have on, you need to make sure that you have fun, too.”'

[fineimfaith]

okay so i finally finished making my hpma oc

my handwriting's abysmal i'm so sorry 😭

anyways some more info on her:

- she's a beater for quidditch

- her dad's gonçalo flores (a famous chaser)

- (that little detail wasn't fully intentional btw, i realized they had the same surname after i named her and thought why not - he can be her dad)

- that little black streak in her hair is natural --- some dark wizard tried to kill her when she was a baby for a little fun. he used the killing curse ofc, but her uncle jumped in the way and took the hit. a little bit of it still got to her and she was sick for weeks. the doctors had to use some special medicine that, in the end, DID heal her, but also discolored her hair a little

- all she remembers from that is the sickness

- she has a chipped tooth

- her dad's brazilian and her mom's irish. they'd been in a long-distance relationship for two years before gonçalo flew to ireland and they got married. fallon was born nine months after, on december 8th

- she'd be irish-brazilian, but she usually tells people she's irish because she looks the part and 'cause she was born in dublin

- she's usually seen hanging around the freys and cassandra, but she also talks to daniel in potions and ivy in charms/dada

- she likes drawing but sticks to comics with stick figures. sometimes she talks to lottie for a bit of art advice - which is probably her asking the artsy girl if she should put clothes on her stick figures or not

- cassandra is genuinely sick of her, but also isn't, as fallon is "much more competent than a certain set of twins"

- speaking of the twins, fischer constantly dares her to do extremely dangerous things knowing full well she'd do them, and also knowing that she'd probably get herself killed or injured in the process. however, colby and cassandra are usually able to stop her (colby chews out his brother while cass chews out fallon)

- the only times they weren't able to save her are when fischer dared her to have an airborne snowball fight (she fell off her broom and broke her leg), and when fischer dared her to jump off a literal cliff (a hippogriff she'd befriended in care for magical creatures saved her)

- it's a miracle fallon is still alive tbh

- and fischer, too

- you have no idea how angry colby was after that cliff incident

- anyway cassandra and fallon are those two best friends where one pretends they hate the other and the other sees right through it

- colby and fallon usually meet up in the hogwarts library after curfew and read together. fallon provides insight on his poems while colby gives her advice for her little stick-figures

- the advice:

- "you should give them clothes"

- "make mine stab fischer"

- "is that a scarf? it doesn't look like one at all"

- the insight:

- "why are there so many big words?"

- "your handwriting's so messy it's giving me a migraine"

- "change that line right there. why? 'cause my glasses are not cute"

- she has glasses btw

- i mean you probably saw that in the picture but still

- anyway, she tugs on the ends of her scarf when she's happy or excited

- she doesn't just dislike fire, it's one of her biggest fears

- she has a pet barred owl named flingshot

- she calls him flingy for short

- at home she has a pet black cat named loony

-loony's probably older than hogwarts itself but she still loves him to death

- fallon's an avid scorpion lover (she's thought they were cool ever since she was five)

- (why? because a particularly venomous one stung her while she and her mom were visiting her dad in brazil. as she was in her hospital bed she said they were awesome and asked her parents if they could keep the one that stung her as a pet)

- (they said no ofc)

- speaking of her parents, she loves both of them dearly but she's closer to her mom 'cause her dad's usually off playing quidditch in brazil

- they owl each other at least once a week though

- fallon's an only child. not a spoiled one, rather one that would have siblings if she hadn't nearly given her parents heart attacks every other day

- especially after the cliff

- like, her father actually fainted after she heard the news

- her mom, however, owled her saying that she was glad she (fallon) was alive, but to be more careful and to not scare her father like that again

- yeah fallon's mom is pretty used to her shenanigans... she still gets worried, though. just not as worried as fallon's dad, who gets terrified whenever his "little princess" scrapes her knee

okay that's about it

there's probably more but i can't remember anything else soo yeah

anyways bye :)

[markabnett]

PREPARING FOR YOUR BEST CON

Okay this is a big post but I need to do it.

Just back home in Scotland from Dublin ComicCon.

One thing this weekend left me with is to remember to get fit for your convention!

My body is like a slab of carbonite at the moment. Quite drained and very heavy footed.

So why is that?

I am unfit.

I mucked up and didn’t prepare my body for the con.

Leading up to the con at least 2 weeks before walk everyday each day increasing the time of your walk by 10 minutes minimum.

This will help you get your body ready for being on your feet for extended period of time.

Wait?

Don’t the cons provide chairs?

Yes most do.

But have you ever been to a con and noticed what artists and writers are doing when they are on their butts?

They are not focused on YOU a potential customer who wants to give them money so they can make more comics!

Well rule number one if you actually want to SELL your books.

Never, NEVER sit down!

Get a yoga mat. Roll that bad boy out and stand behind your table.

Rule number 2

Stay off your phone!

Take photos of your table and surrounding area before the con and set up social posts on schedules through out the day. This keeps you focused on your customers and not missing opportunities for sales.

This gives you a huge advantage and you can look people in the eye and make a connection. Mimic body language. Adjust your tone and pitch to the individual . Be positive and remember your book may not be for them but if you are polite with both your time and theirs they may come back with a friend later on or follow your future endeavours.

Ask them Open ended questions and funnel their answers till you have an answer you may have a solution to with a book on your table.

Have 3 different elevator pitches prepared to adjust to their needs in a book but NEVER lie to them about your book. That will come back and bite you in the arse.

Let them know why your book is worth their hard earned money. Compare it to other similar pop culture properties “ If you like this movie then you will like this book”

Other tips

At 2 day cons compliment cosplayers.

Day one they go large on their looks. Day 2 they usually try something else or come back shopping. They can be a pain and block isles on single day cons but manners and compliments go a long way.

Let them know who you are!

Don’t hand out business cards, hand out free prints with your social details / website on the bottom. People throw cards out. People also post prints up on walls. If you have a memorable print and your social details are there that will give the customer an instant connection between and art piece/ project/story and your name.

I have a sign on my table that says “Say Hi and get a FREE print!” This helps even those who are a wee bit socially awkward muster up the courage and engage in conversation.

Now this print is only 120gsm on gloss paper and coloured on one side. But it’s cheap as chips and I have thousands of them. They result in more social followers (which the value of is still extremely debatable) and importantly post con web-store sales!

WATER WATER WATER!

Ditch the coffee, red bull and sugary drinks.

Water and electrolytes are the way to go.

Treat your body like a finely tuned machine and do not get drunk the night before!

You are there to put your best foot forward and get your books into peoples hands.

Odour check.

A can of lynx/axe body spray (or alternative ) on hand is a must. Add mouth wash / mints and hand sanitiser to that list . Keep your self clean and healthy. Heck in a hit event centre a spare shirt does not go amiss either.

FUEL

Pre-packed lunch and snacks. Trail mix, sandwiches, Bananas and other fruit are massively important. Maybe a bit of chocolate to reward yourself should you feel low but not too much.

TABLE PRESENTATION.

You pull up banner should be broken down into thirds.

Top third- your name- your socials- then your titles.

Middle third. Amazing Splash page art or collage of action from your books that best represent you and your “brand”

Bottom third- a continuation of this or nothing at all. It’s behind a table no one should see it!!

On the table.

-Books open on the best pages of art/ splash pages or double page spreads are a bonus . This will invite people to pick them up and flick through more.

-Books at attention. Small collapsible cardboard standees to have your books upright.

Have them closest to you at the back and in front stack those books high and watch them fly.

More books stacked actually helps sales.

You mean business . You are professional . You’ve come prepared.

Don’t have an empty table.

Use a tablet to have a slide show of art from your books. Add animation elements if you can grab that passer-by’s eye.

Battery pack for devices and back up cables.

Already got a battery pack? Great! Now buy another for backup.

Pens/ sharpies. Make sure they work in your book for signatures and other notes. Seriously test them out first . You would be surprised what pens work and what don’t.

Price LIST!

Using the same branding as your banner header.

Type out your items you have for sale and either leave the price bit blank and use a whiteboard marker if you want to be flexible or make them fixed.

Laminate that bad boy. Helps to keep it firm on the cardboard stand.

Small price tags.

Again use your branding and have multiple price point ready that are the length of a A5 sheet but only 1-2 inches across. Laminate them then tuck them into the books you have in front of the table. These are reusable and with the laminate make them firm enough to hold attention.

Lozenges.

You will get a sore throat from talking too much if you follow the above!

I think that’s all at the moment.

But this stuff is some basic key principle stuff for Indy sellers.

Sure some cons you are there to hang with mates but if you are not

Presenting yourself well and giving yourself the opportunity to earn money to make more books then you are wasting that moment, your own time and your own money.

[arts-dance]

25 Most Beautiful Libraries in the World

For travelers who love books and reading, there’s no place more enchanting than a big, beautiful library. Being surrounded by thousands of books is a dream for many, but there are some libraries that take things to the next level with their jaw-dropping interiors. These are the kinds of places that act like shrines to the written word, whether they are steeped in centuries of history or are the cutting edge of modern design.  To help you add to your bucketlist, we’ve compiled this list of the most beautiful libraries in the world, many of which could vie for the title of the world’s best library.

The Library of the Benedictine Monastery in Admont, Austria Admont Abbey Library in Admont, Austria There’s little doubt that one of the best libraries in the world is the glamorous Admont Abbey Library of Austria. Full of exquisite frescoes set within Baroque architecture, you only need to take one look at this library to see what makes it special. Pristinely decorated in white and gold, this Austrian library dates back to 1776, although the monastery itself is considerably older.  Besides its grandeur, Admont Abbey also holds the title of largest monastery library in the world, containing around 70,000 volumes. One detail that’s tough to miss is the series of frescoes by Bartolomeo Altomonte that cover each of the library’s seven cupolas.

Bookshelf inside Peabody Library a research library for John Hopkins University in Baltimore, USA George Peabody Library in Baltimore, Maryland, USA At a glance, one could easily mistake the George Peabody Library of Baltimore, Maryland, for a luxury hotel or venue. That should give you an idea of what kind of glamor we’re talking about with this library at Johns Hopkins University. Gazing up from its elegant marble floor past five tiers of balconies to its expansive skylights, it’s hard to believe this is a research-focused academic library and not something far more extravagant.  Interestingly, this library was funded in 1878 by philanthropist George Peabody as a resource open to the public. Today it houses nearly 300,000 volumes, earning it the nickname of “the Cathedral of Books” in Baltimore.

Library of the Mafra National Palace in Portugal Mafra Palace Library in Mafra, Portugal It seems incredible that the Mafra Palace Library is said to be the highlight of a visit to this Portuguese palace. After all, we’re talking about quite an immense and stately royal palace with centuries of history behind it. But when it houses a Rococo masterpiece like the Mafra Palace Library, with marble floors, an intricate ceiling, and books on ornate shelves lining its 88-meter-long hall, that’s absolutely the case.  The library in Mafra dates from 1755, but the collection spans from the 14th to 19th centuries and even includes some volumes that were added only by special permission from the Pope, due to their “forbidden” nature.

The Long Room in the Old Library at Trinity College Dublin. Trinity College Library in Dublin, Ireland A beautiful library that really needs no introduction is the ever-popular Trinity College Library at the university in Dublin. One of the most famous libraries in the world, Trinity College Library is a classic Dublin tourist attraction, with crowds from all over the world visiting to see the stacked shelves of its iconic Long Room. The most impressive building of the library is the Old Library, where the Long Room is found, which dates back to 1592.  Beyond its gorgeous wooden architecture and arched ceiling, what makes the library so important is its vast collection, including the historic Book of Kells and a copy of the 1916 Proclamation of the Irish Republic, not to mention the incredibly symbolic Brian Boru harp.

Abbey Library Saint Gall in Austria Abbey Library of Saint Gall in St. Gallen, Switzerland Although St. Gallen may not be one of the better-known towns in Switzerland, it hides a pretty major attraction overlooked by many. This underestimated feature is the UNESCO heritage-listed Abbey Library of Saint Gall, a worthy contender for the title of world’s most beautiful library.  The Abbey Library of Saint Gall originated in 719 AD, and among its considerable archives lie thousands of books and manuscripts from the Middle Ages. But it’s really the striking carved woodwork and sublime Rococo ceiling that will make you fall in love with this library. Royal Portuguese Reading Room in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil T photography / shutterstock.com

Royal Portuguese Reading Room in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil Few associate South America with enchanting libraries, and that’s part of what makes the Royal Portuguese Reading Room of Rio such a delightful surprise. Built in 1837 to store the largest collection of Portuguese literature outside of Portugal, it seems to have also adopted the Portuguese love of captivating libraries as well. Step into the main reading room of the Royal Portuguese Cabinet of Reading and you’re sure to be overwhelmed by the dark woodwork and golden detail of its three stories of bookcases, not to mention the chandelier and stained-glass ceiling overhead.

National Library of the Girolamini Oratory in Naples, Italy The National Library of the Girolamini Oratory made headlines in 2013, although not for its rich interior or its status as one of the oldest libraries in Italy. Reports stated that the then-director and accomplices had looted the library, but fortunately most of the missing volumes were recovered following the arrests of the culprits. However, the news did rekindle a well-deserved interest in the 16th-century library. Rooms and halls inside the Biblioteca Girolamini vary in look, from modest rooms completely lined with historic wooden shelves to sublime chambers bearing magnificent fresco ceilings. Aerial view of main floor of the public Central Library in Seattle, USA Andriy Blokhin / shutterstock.com

Seattle Central Library in Seattle, Washington, USA While there are plenty of historic libraries that are beautiful, it’s possible to find beauty in modern ones as well, as the Seattle Central Library proves. Easily one of the coolest libraries in the world, the Seattle Central Library opened in 2004 in the city’s downtown area with a hyper-modern design. Still eye-catching today, the building is made of steel and glass, with an abstract design that’s just as interesting from the inside as the outside. The diamond-shaped lattice that wraps around its box-like design lets in lots of light, creating an open, fresh, and inviting feel uncommon with most libraries. Interior of new public library in Stuttgart, Germany Sasa Komlen / shutterstock.com

Stuttgart City Library in Stuttgart, Germany It’s difficult to imagine a more bright and contemporary public library than the Stuttgart City Library in Germany. In fact, since reopening in its new location in 2011, it’d be fair to say that this Stuttgart institution is a true contender for the distinction of best public library in the world.  The cube-like exterior of the library has drawn some strong public responses, but few could argue with the gleaming, minimalist main foyer of the library and its large central skylight. Some might even see in the library’s geometric heart a reminiscence of the incredible, dizzyingly patterned stepwells found in India.

[whatsemilyreading]

To Be Read: Nine literary fiction books I can’t wait to read this summer

And by “can’t wait to read,” obviously I mean “hope to God I actually pick up.”

tiktok | instagram | storygraph

Summer, to me, feels like literary fiction by the pool, at the park, and on the patio of your favorite coffeeshop, an iced latte in hand. The freakier, the better. The book, I mean, not the coffee.

If the book I’m reading isn’t just a little uncanny, I genuinely do not want to read it. If there isn’t at the very least one teensy thing about it that’s hard to look at, or that makes me want to turn on every light in my house just in case, I lose interest! Give me all the books with non-male protagonists who desperately need to find God, in a non-religious sense.

1. Big Swiss by Jen Beagin

Greta lives with her friend Sabine in an ancient Dutch farmhouse in Hudson, New York. She spends her days transcribing therapy sessions for a sex coach who calls himself Om. She becomes infatuated with his newest client, a repressed married woman she affectionately refers to as Big Swiss, since she’s tall, stoic, and originally from Switzerland. They both have dark histories, but Big Swiss chooses to remain unattached to her suffering while Greta continues to be tortured by her past. One day, Greta recognizes Big Swiss’s voice at the dog park. In a panic, she introduces herself with a fake name and they quickly become enmeshed. Although Big Swiss is unaware of Greta’s true identity, Greta has never been more herself with anyone. Bold, outlandish, and filled with irresistible characters, Big Swiss is both a love story and also a deft examination of infidelity, mental health, sexual stereotypes, and more—from an amazingly talented, one-of-a-kind voice in contemporary fiction.

Why it's on my TBR: Honestly, the buzz from friends whose taste in books I trust with my life is enough for me. I have not heard a single bad thing about it from anyone.

2. The Swimmers by Chloe Lane

Erin’s mother has motor neurone disease and has decided to take her fate into her own hands. As Erin looks back at her twenty-six-year-old self, she can finally tell the story of the unimaginable task she faced one winter.

Why it's on my TBR: I’m a glutton for pain and I looooove to read about grieving protagonists. The only way out is through, baby!!!

3. Exciting Times by Naoise Dolan

Ava moved to Hong Kong to find happiness, but so far, it isn’t working out. Since she left Dublin, she’s been spending her days teaching English to rich children—she’s been assigned the grammar classes because she lacks warmth—and her nights avoiding petulant roommates in her cramped apartment.  When Ava befriends Julian, a witty British banker, he offers a shortcut into a lavish life her meager salary could never allow. Ignoring her feminist leanings and her better instincts, Ava finds herself moving into Julian’s apartment, letting him buy her clothes, and, eventually, striking up a sexual relationship with him. When Julian’s job takes him back to London, she stays put, unsure where their relationship stands.  Enter Edith. A Hong Kong–born lawyer, striking and ambitious, Edith takes Ava to the theater and leaves her tulips in the hallway. Ava wants to be her—and wants her. Ava has been carefully pretending that Julian is nothing more than an absentee roommate, so when Julian announces that he’s returning to Hong Kong, she faces a fork in the road. Should she return to the easy compatibility of her life with Julian or take a leap into the unknown with Edith?

Why it's on my TBR: I’ve been putting this one off for far too long! I think I’ve had a copy for two years and have said I’d read it almost every month since I bought it. I’m determined to get to it this summer because this is another one I’ve never heard a bad thing about. Time to find out for myself!

4. The All-Night Sun by Diane Zinna

Lauren Cress teaches writing at a small college outside of Washington, DC. In the classroom, she is poised, smart, and kind, well-liked by her students and colleagues. But in her personal life, Lauren is troubled and isolated, still grappling with the sudden death of her parents ten years earlier. She seems to exist at a remove from everyone around her until a new student joins her class: charming, magnetic Siri, who appears to be everything Lauren wishes she could be.  They fall headlong into an all-consuming friendship that feels to Lauren like she is reclaiming her lost adolescence. When Siri invites her along on a trip home to Sweden for the summer, Lauren impulsively accepts, intrigued by how Siri describes it: “Everything will be green, fresh, new, just thawing out.” But once there, Lauren finds herself drawn to Siri’s enigmatic, brooding brother Magnus. Siri is resentful, and Lauren starts to see a new side of her friend: selfish, reckless, self-destructive, even cruel. On the last night of her trip, Lauren accompanies Siri and her friends on a seaside camping trip to celebrate Midsommar’s Eve, a night when no one sleeps, boundaries blur, and under the light of the unsetting sun, things take a dark turn. Ultimately Lauren must acknowledge the truth of what happened with Siri and come to terms with her own tragic past in this gorgeously written, deeply felt debut about the relationships that come to us when things feel darkest–and the transformative power of female friendship.

Why it's on my TBR: I found this one in McKay’s and despite the fun, flirty cover, it actually seems super dark? So, you know, right up my alley.

5. Rouge by Mona Awad

For as long as she can remember, Belle has been insidiously obsessed with her skin and skincare videos. When her estranged mother Noelle mysteriously dies, Belle finds herself back in Southern California, dealing with her mother’s considerable debts and grappling with lingering questions about her death. The stakes escalate when a strange woman in red appears at the funeral, offering a tantalizing clue about her mother’s demise, followed by a cryptic video about a transformative spa experience. With the help of a pair of red shoes, Belle is lured into the barbed embrace of La Maison de Méduse, the same lavish, culty spa to which her mother was devoted. There, Belle discovers the frightening secret behind her (and her mother’s) obsession with the mirror—and the great shimmering depths (and demons) that lurk on the other side of the glass.  Snow White meets Eyes Wide Shut in this surreal descent into the dark side of beauty, envy, grief, and the complicated love between mothers and daughters. With black humor and seductive horror, Rouge explores the cult-like nature of the beauty industry—as well as the danger of internalizing its pitiless gaze. Brimming with California sunshine and blood-red rose petals, Rouge holds up a warped mirror to our relationship with mortality, our collective fixation with the surface, and the wondrous, deep longing that might lie beneath.

Why it's on my TBR: I have read both Bunny and All's Well and have decided Mona Awad is one of those authors whose grocery lists I would read without question.

6. Disorientation by Elaine Hsieh Chou

Twenty-nine-year-old PhD student Ingrid Yang is desperate to finish her dissertation on the late canonical poet Xiao-Wen Chou and never read about “Chinese-y” things again. But after years of grueling research, all she has to show for her efforts are junk food addiction and stomach pain. When she accidentally stumbles upon a curious note in the Chou archives one afternoon, she convinces herself it’s her ticket out of academic hell. But Ingrid’s in much deeper than she thinks. Her clumsy exploits to unravel the note’s message lead to an explosive discovery, upending not only her sheltered life within academia but her entire world beyond it. With her trusty friend Eunice Kim by her side and her rival Vivian Vo hot on her tail, together they set off a roller coaster of mishaps and misadventures, from book burnings and OTC drug hallucinations, to hot-button protests and Yellow Peril 2.0 propaganda. In the aftermath, nothing looks the same to Ingrid—including her gentle and doting fiancé, Stephen Greene. When he embarks on a book tour with the super kawaii Japanese author he’s translated, doubts and insecurities creep in for the first time… As the events Ingrid instigated keep spiraling, she’ll have to confront her sticky relationship to white men and white institutions—and, most of all, herself.

Why it's on my TBR: The cover? Gorgeous. One of the booksellers at my favorite bookstore in Nashville, Novelette, recommended this one to me and I trust them with my life, so!

7. The Rabbit Hutch by Tess Gunty

The automobile industry has abandoned Vacca Vale, Indiana, leaving the residents behind, too. In a run-down apartment building on the edge of town, commonly known as the Rabbit Hutch, a number of people now reside quietly, looking for ways to live in a dying city. Apartment C2 is lonely and detached. C6 is aging and stuck. C8 harbors an extraordinary fear. But C4 is of particular interest. Here live four teenagers who have recently aged out of the state foster-care system: three boys and one girl, Blandine. Hauntingly beautiful and unnervingly bright, Blandine is plagued by the structures, people, and places that not only failed her but actively harmed her. Now all Blandine wants is an escape, a true bodily escape like the mystics describe in the books she reads. Set across one week and culminating in a shocking act of violence, The Rabbit Hutch chronicles a town on the brink, desperate for rebirth. How far will its residents—especially Blandine—go to achieve it? Does one person’s gain always come at another’s expense? Tess Gunty’s The Rabbit Hutch is a gorgeous and provocative tale of loneliness and community, entrapment and freedom. It announces a major new voice in American fiction, one bristling with intelligence and vulnerability.

Why it's on my TBR: I feel like it’s gonna make me cry and give me an entirely new outlook on my own life. And I think that’s exactly what I need this summer.

8. Matrix by Lauren Gross

Cast out of the royal court by Eleanor of Aquitaine, deemed too coarse and rough-hewn for marriage or courtly life, 17-year-old Marie de France is sent to England to be the new prioress of an impoverished abbey, its nuns on the brink of starvation and beset by disease. At first taken aback by the severity of her new life, Marie finds focus and love in collective life with her singular and mercurial sisters. In this crucible, Marie steadily supplants her desire for family, for her homeland, for the passions of her youth with something new to her: devotion to her sisters, and a conviction in her own divine visions. Marie, born the last in a long line of women warriors and crusaders, is determined to chart a bold new course for the women she now leads and protects. But in a world that is shifting and corroding in frightening ways, one that can never reconcile itself with her existence, will the sheer force of Marie's vision be bulwark enough?

Why it's on my TBR: This one kind of seems like it might quell my red-hot desire to only read books like The Six Deaths of the Saint by Alix. E Harrow, minus the fantasy. Seems like similar vibes! I’ve heard tons of good things from trusted pals, so I’d love to pick this up this summer. I found this at McKay’s, too, with the UK cover, which I think is leagues cuter than the US one.

9. Briefly, A Delicious Life by Nell Stevens

In 1473, fourteen-year-old Blanca dies in a hilltop monastery in Mallorca. Nearly four hundred years later, when George Sand, her two children, and her lover Frederic Chopin arrive in the village, Blanca is still there: a spirited, funny, righteous ghost, she’s been hanging around the monastery since her accidental death, spying on the monks and the townspeople and keeping track of her descendants. Blanca is enchanted the moment she sees George, and the magical novel unfolds as a story of deeply felt, unrequited longing—a teenage ghost pining for a woman who can’t see her and doesn’t know she exists. As George and Chopin, who wear their unconventionality, in George’s case, literally on their sleeves, find themselves in deepening trouble with the provincial, 19th-century villagers, Blanca watches helplessly and reflects on the circumstances of her own death (which involved an ill-advised love affair with a monk-in-training).

Why it's on my TBR: I have heard nothing but incredible things, and it sounds like it's just weird enough to be right up my alley. Plus, that cover is so gorgeous, it’s practically asking to be read in public for everyone to ogle at.

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In the evening we bike to the shop to buy firelighters. Jen says she likes the idea of a bonfire while we eat our barbeque food, even though the only time one has even been lit at the beach house is when my dad did it, all the while ranting on about how he learned everything he knew about fire in the boy scouts, and how if I had an iota of discipline or self control I might have benefitted from them before the local pack expelled me for being a shithead.

He was right. I reluctantly accept it as Jen and I approach the materials for making fire. Nobody has ever told me about the difference between briquettes and coal, what firelighters actually look like and exactly where peat plays into all of this. I know nothing about how to do manly things, and only ever figured out how to pitch a tent after subtly watching Shane do it the first time he and I went camping in the woods. 

In contrast, my father has shot an actual gun. He and his brothers hunted deer, game and wild pigs in the hills around their family farmhouse in Redding California. As they loaded up their rifles and zipped up their jackets they would say things to me about how I’d be coming with them someday, as though was some sort of honour, something to strive for, but by the time I was big enough to kill pheasants I was already five thousand miles away drawing comics on printer paper. My soft hands were meant for art.

“You grab the firelighters,” I tell Jen, and take a swerve towards the magazine stand so that I can peruse something in my comfort zone. There’s a small selection of artsy magazines, and I flip one open. 

“Um, do you think we should buy gasoline or something?” She stands chewing on her lip. 

“Probably not, right? That seems dangerous.”

“Should we ask someone?” 

“What? No.” Embarrassing.

I pretend to be engrossed in an article so that I don’t have to help, but while I'm there, an ad catches my eye, “Hey,” I call out to Jen, “would you want to go to an exhibition this weekend?”

“What kind?”

“Art.”

“Yeah, what kind?”

I turn the page to her so that she can see it, “contemporary,” and her eyes narrow at the images of weird sculptures made of bits of scrap metal, canvases with random splatters of paint dripping off the bottom, colour bleeding onto the floor.

“Hm. See, that’s the kind of weird art I don’t get.”

“It’s not about the art specifically, it’s about us doing something fun together.”

“And that’s in Dublin?”

“Yes.”

She smirks in a self satisfied way, “You’re bored,” she stops a passing customer to ask him if he knows what firelighters are, and if so, what does the box look like.

He shows her, and while she’s picking up the last two packets I come to stand with her, not helping, because now I'm more interested in selling this new idea to her. “It’ll be fun! How nice would it be to have a change of scenery? Get back to the city where stuff is actually happening, maybe go to that ice cream place you like.”

I’m certain this will sway her, but she pulls a face, “There’s loads of ice cream here, and the only reason you think nothing is happening on the beach is because you’re deliberately not doing anything.”

“Is it so bad that I want to have a day out with you?”

“No, I suppose not, but...” She wrinkles her nose “Fine. I don't want to be cynical. Do you think I’m cynical?”

“Yeah a bit.” I pay for the firelighters. As we exit the shop into the lingering light of the evening I admit to her, “I’m trying to cheer myself up, I just think I should make the most of the time I have left.”

She laughs, “It sounds like you’re terminally ill. You’re moving. So what? I’ll still talk to you all the time.”

“Yeah but I really want to savour these last few weeks. Will you come to the gallery?” I grip her arm and pretend to die, letting my knees buckle under me to really sell it, “...before it’s too late?”

“God, yes, fucking hell,” she groans, “I’ll come. I’ll do whatever you want for the rest of the summer, right?”

I throw an arm around her, “Thanks Jen.”

“Yeah, manipulator.”

“Takes one to know one,” I say cheerily, and we unlock our bikes and head towards home.

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