#property search london

[properlyhome]

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[readwritealldayallnight]

Yours, Mine, Ours

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

wc: 1.5k words

warnings/tags: fluff

“So did the other two actually say no or did you just never invite them?”

“‘Course I invited them, you asked me to, so I did.” Simon replies with ease, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead of him. “They’re smart lads, lovie, they knew to say no all by themselves.”

You shake your head at him in disbelief but the smile that’s been plastered across your face ever since the two of you pulled out of your flat’s parking doesn’t budge. Simon’s been driving for a few hours now, and as stressful of an experience as that is alone, you’re too excited to mind the long journey in the car.

Simon is on leave for the next two weeks, something about Price having to attend a funeral following a death in the family, and deciding that everyone on the force was due for a bit of time off. Seeing as the Captain was going to be preoccupied during his time off duty, he had asked if Simon wouldn’t mind checking in on his house for him, making sure things were alright. He’d even offered for the two of you to stay in the guest room for the duration of their leave.

Simon had explained how Price knew that the two of you were living in a small flat in London, and apparently his home was in a beautiful, forested, isolated area which meant he had essentially no neighbours, something he also knew would appeal to Simon. He offered for the two of you to stretch your legs out there at enjoy the property, including the privacy that came with it.

Wanting to be polite, you’d told Simon he should extend the invitation to Soap and Gaz, thinking they might enjoy a nice, quiet stay-cation as well at their Captain’s place away from it all. It would appear your lover had different ideas in mind however. Though you couldn’t blame him entirely, the thought of having the cozy cabin all to yourselves was certainly more appealing.

Every which way you look outside the car, your vision is filled by endless blurry trees as you zoom by, the colours of the leaves having finally changed into the warmer, more vibrant colour palette that came along with the autumn chill. If the drive up to his property was any indication of how beautiful the area really was, then you were in for quite the treat.

Entranced by the beauty of the landscape in comparison to the city lights you’ve grown so used to, you fail to notice the glances Simon keeps sneaking your way, the smallest of satisfied smiles seemingly permanently etched upon his face beneath his balaclava. He was grateful that after explaining the situation and Price’s generous offer to you, you had been too excited to ask many questions, instead getting a jump start on packing a duffel bag or two.

You were one of the most intelligent, clever, curious people he’d ever known, and it was normally quite difficult to get anything by you. He was therefore feeling rightfully proud of himself as he drove you nearer and nearer to the home you believed belonged to his Captain. In actuality, there was no funeral for Price to attend, the sergeants had certainly not been invited along on your getaway, and the home you’d be staying in wasn’t Price’s.

It was yours.

Yours, and Simon’s.

The two of you had been living in that shoebox of a flat he’d considered as ‘satisfactory’ when he was only staying there as a bachelor, for far too long. As ideal as the location might have been, there simply just wasn’t enough space for two people to live together, even considering Simon’s absences for work and that fact that when he was home, you two were essentially always on top of one another anyways.

You’d both been searching for a new flat for what felt like ages now, none of the places you visited feeling like the right fit. Simon would be weary about a certain neighborhood, you’d be concerned with the lack of any balcony or outdoor space, he’d ignore the price tag that felt your eyes bulging, and you’d shake your head as you walked through doorways that had him needing to duck down.

Little did you know, Simon had been doing his own house hunting, outside of the city. You had told Simon you were fine with staying in London, understanding that it’s convenient to have everything near by. But Simon didn’t want to give you just ‘fine’. He wanted to give you a home. The home he intends to spend the rest of his life with you in, plans on carrying you over the threshold in your wedding dress, hopes to carry sleeping newborns in their car seats through the door.

For months now, Simon has subtlety been learning more about what that home looked like to you. He’d look over your shoulder as you scrolled through Pinterest, casually asking if you could show him your boards, you know just for fun, and paid very close attention when you showed him the one named ‘future house’. On his phone, he had a list a mile long in his notes app, from secretly writing down every comment you made while watching your home reno shows. He’ll casually ask you what you think of the houses you drive by, jotting down your answers in his mind, remembering likes and dislikes.

He believes that like you, it’s the people filling the home that matter more than the structure itself, as proven by the way you continue to put up with his minuscule flat. He knows you mean it when you say you’re alright with another flat. But he has the money goddammit, he has the means to do this for you, and when the listing came up for a home in what you’d revealed as being your ideal area to settle down in one day, the house resembling the amalgamation of everything he believed you’d described as being your perfect place, he knew he had to put an offer in.

And if there ever was anything about the house you didn’t like or wanted to change, he’d gladly do it for you, no questions asked. You want to paint the bedroom? Just tell him what colour you want. You want to change the railing on the wrap around porch? He’s on his way to the hardware store already. You need him to dig a stump out of the backyard to make room for your garden? Sit back and enjoy the show lovie, he’s on it. And when the time comes to build a crib? Well he may as well baby proof the whole house while he’s at it too.

He’s pictured your reaction a thousand times over in his mind. He imagines you’ll maybe give a small gasp when he turns the corner of the long driveway and you first see the cozy, two-storey home, surrounded by never-ending foliage of red, orange, and yellow leaves, the time of year perfect for appreciating autumn in the UK, as well as the privacy the tall trees grant you. He thinks the first thing you’ll comment on will likely be the windows, an item high on your priority list he knew to adhere to.

He imagines you kicking off your boots as you step through the door, pace quickening to explore every room, spinning in the kitchen as you joke about how jealous you are of Price. He pictures you groaning with envy when you spot your dream master bathroom, insisting to Simon that since you’d been tasked with checking in on the home you may as well see every room, right? He plans to explain away the obvious sparseness of the home as the Captain not having lived here long, as being very non-materialistic after all his years in service.

He’ll continue to play along for as long as he can, part of him knowing that you know him well enough that you’re likely to catch onto his deception at some point. However he hopes that before you start rummaging through kitchen cabinets and find them empty, too empty even for an absentee captain of a homeowner, that you’ll mention something along the lines of wishing you could stay here longer. That’s when he plans to slip a key into the palm of your hand, revealing that you might be able to stay longer than you believe.

The small piece of metal that’ll unlock the rest of your lives together, sits heavy in his pocket, in contrast to the light feeling in his heart when his hand reaches across the dashboard to grab a hold of yours, knowing that the content, lovesick smile you offer him is likely stretched across his face as well, staring right back at you.

Though you’re unaware that Simon is currently driving towards your home, and not away from it, you’re gently stroking the scarred skin across his hand, feeling as though your home is sitting right next to you, holding your hand and your heart at the same time.

[guardarecheluna]

There's a version of life that i want, and it's just like this.

Words: 4.6K

Warnings: embarrassingly sweet fluff that may be giving you a toothache.

A/N: hi loves! Now let me tell you, THIS was self-indulgent. But I’m blaming some of you who’s asking for Harry and Y/N’s first meeting, SO, here you go, it’s absolutely filled with cliches and fluff – which is exactly what I’m into. Please let me know what you thought of this and if you'd like to hear more from them! <3

Summary: Their first meeting. Eyes searching for the other in the sea of people, clumsy, clammy hands grabbing at each other in the night, just for some sort of connection. Y/N swore up and down that love isn’t something you just find, it’s something you create. Oh, how wrong she was.

Masterlist HERE

The first meeting

It was just like that love that you read about in the books. It was fast, simple, pure and most of all, requited.

Harry and Y/N were very aware that whenever they were asked the story about how they first met, the story was often received and answered to with a sigh and a roll of their eyes. They knew, it sounded like an absolute fairytale. Not that there hadn’t been bumps in the road; there had been many, but the first night they met were free of any bumps and awkward conversations. Because when love was found, they wanted to sing it to the deep blue sea, from the high rooftops, that they had found their person. And that feeling; that night, is something no person or situation will ever take away from them - no matter how many rolled their eyes.

May 7th, 2019

“Y/N get a goddamn grip or I’m leaving without you.” Maya had yelled to Y/N from the lounge. A unusually huge glass in her hand filled with whatever alcohol she could find in Y/Ns apartment. Maya was already bothered, huffing and puffing when she arrived at Y/Ns apartment, and to find Y/N not yet ready for their outing was just one more inconvenience.

Y/N and Maya had been friends since university, and now, well into their 20s their friendship only grew more and more solid. “You need to give me a moment, Maya,” Y/N shouted back, keeping her voice as still and calm as she could, wanting Maya to calm down. Although she knew better than to use her gentle tone with Maya when she was upset, she snickered, knowing that Maya may as well be completely out of her mind by now. “Jesus fucking Christ on a boat, Y/N, don’t start.” Maya said under her breath. Y/N could hear her in the lounge, heavy feet waltzing around with angry, toddler-like steps, on a mission to get her point across that they needed to get a move on.

Y/N was just doing the finishing touches, perfume, bracelet, and a deep breath in the mirror. “Alright, we’re good,” she said, looking at herself, almost examining herself, looking for a reason to not step out of the front door. Not that there was anything holding her back besides her bed, Netflix and maybe some baking of a mudcake, but all of that just sounded much more tempting than their friend’s birthday party.

They were a small gaggle of friends from university still seeing each other now and then. They weren’t as close as Y/N and Maya were, but it was enough to see them a few times a year and get invitations to their parties. It was their friend Eli’s birthday this time, coupled with Eli’s boyfriend, who’s birthday was just around the corner.

Eli was an absolute whirlwind of a woman, energetic, social and constantly engaging with others because of it. A big party like this was Eli’s dream. She and her boyfriend, Melwin, had rented out this private property on the outskirts of London. A party pad by the lake with a huge outside area, bedrooms for all, and most importantly, a full bar. As you could guess, Eli was loaded. Or, actually, her family was. And while this party had been a bucket list thing for Eli for a long time, and it was definitely still special, it was also common for Eli to throw big parties.

Y/N and Maya had of course promised Eli that they were coming and staying over, since they had to get there with a car.

Y/N took one final look in the mirror, and then grabbed her packed bag from her chair, stuffing it with a few final things, the perfume from earlier, her trusted Aquaphor, charger and ID.

“I’m guessing I’ll be getting us there.” Y/N said, as she stepped out of her room, eyebrow rose in question of what she was witnessing. Maya was gulping down the final drops of whatever alcohol she had found in Y/N’s cupboard. Maya dragged the back of her hand against her lips making a face at the taste of the harsh alcohol, already regretting her decision of having a pre drink. “You know, we’re going to have to last until the morning, why are you doing this to yourself?” Y/N continued, laughing at Mayas face and the absolute amateur behaviour she was showing off. Maya closed her eyes, speaking slow and out of breath the big gulps of liquid she had just taken down. “You’re damn right, get your pretty ass in the car before I bring out the real hard stuff.” Maya had such a straight face, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, and reply, “You’re cute, and about as intimidating as a butterfly stuck in pink candy floss, but alright.”

Y/N took the keys from Maya’s hand as she put her shoes on, standing in the doorway, with the key in the lock, ready to leave the stillness of her apartment for the weekend.

If she only knew.

Driving in London is a nightmare come to life. However, with enough pep talk and hurrahs from Maya, they finally made it to the outskirts of the city and made their way to the villa by the lake. And the house was…well it was huge.

Y/N parked beside the big timber house, looking out over the lake and the open-air party-area filled with tables, little gazeboes, a bar and string lights. They could hear the music blasting while they drove through the wooded area to get them to the house, high treetops decorating the sky and creating a perfect watercolour painting on the reflection of the lake.

Loud voices were heard from the other side of the house as they rounded up their things from the car and stepped inside. They definitely weren’t the first ones to arrive, and still, it would seem that the house was filled to the brim with people of different ages, genders and looks.

“Should we just find ourselves a room and lock us up in there?” Y/N said quietly to Maya without letting her gaze wander from the different people in the house. Maya rolled her eyes, the drink she had gulped down at Y/N’s apartment working in her system. Maya turned to look Y/N straight in the eye, with a stoney face. “Absolutely not. I’m not having another one of those nights, you’re going to drink, dance, have fun, and find a potential boyfriend. We’re done sitting inside drinking wine and whining about never finding prince charming. Done.” Ouch. Maya was maybe a little too honest with her feelings sometimes, but Y/N also knew that the looks and the shaming she was receiving was fully real and probably needed to give her a little kick.

Y/N let out a dramatic, fake sigh, “Fineeeee, but only you get me a shot in the next 7 minutes.” Maya smirked. “Well, lady, if that isn’t my specialty, what do you fancy?”

They walked into the crowd of people, arms linked together, snickering and looking around the crowd for something, or someone interesting.

Y/N was just going to steer them towards the outside bar area, eyes zeroed in on the target, when someone crashed harshly into her shoulder. “HEEY!” Maya yelled immediately when she realized what had went down.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I really didn’t think I had that much to drink, I’m so so sorry” A deeper, slow British accent sounded behind her. Y/N didn’t even bother to look at him, just put on a smile despite her now aching shoulder. “It’s alright, don’t worry about it, happens now and then. I actually enjoy hockey-tackling when I’m drunk so be on the lookout for when I’ve had a few shots later tonight.” Y/N said, finally meeting eyes with the force that crashed into her. A belly laughter erupted from a man, she realized. “I’ll be sure to be on the lookout, but I’ll make sure to stay out of the way just in case. What’s your name, hockey-fiend?” He said between chuckles, recovering from the laugh he let out. This was…an interesting conversation to say the least. Most people, when faced with Y/N’s witty commentary would back off immediately and just think she’s an incredibly strange person, but not him. “It’s Y/N.” She said plainly, a smirk on her glossy lips with her arm stretched out, hand for him to take. “Well, Y/N, I’m Harry. I’ll be on the lookout, let me know if you need me to be your punching bag.” He said, and he smiled. Y/N really wasn’t that bothered with men and their antics, but when Harry smiled, she true to god almost threw up. That smile was infections, it made her warm and cold at the same time, a shiver running down her back when he let go of her hand. And then he walked off, smile still sitting on his face.

Maya had been surprisingly quiet, her mouth agape when Y/N finally gained consciousness again and looked at her. “Do you realize who you just fucking tackled?” Maya whisper-screamed in Y/N’s face. Y/N knew he was familiar, she knew she had seen him somewhere, not quite being able to place him. Maybe he had been at another one of these parties. “Y/N, you just flirted with Harry fucking Styles, and guess what? You’re going to charm his goddamn pants off tonight, you’re going to hockey tackle him at least twice more and he’s going to like it.”

Well, Shit. A flush immediately settled over Y/N’s face. Did she just? There’s absolutely no way. She didn’t even mean to sound flirty, that had to be one of the most embarrassing experiences of her life. Y/N almost thinks it was good that he was famous, because he had to have so many interactions, that her embarrassing flirting and almost-tackle to the floor might just fade into the background.

“I can’t believe I fucking said that to Harry Styles, now I really have to have a shot. Or dig myself into a hole, that must be in like, the top 3 worst things I’ve ever done.” Y/N sighed, hands covering her face to hide her blushing skin. “How is he even here? Does Eli know him? Or Melwin? I’m going to lose my mind.” Y/N continued, sinking deeper into her hole of embarrassment, desperately needing to dig her way out of it. Luckily, Maya was there to drag her out of this, as usual. “Are you being for real? You understand that he flirted back, right? Hockey-fiend, my ass, let’s get drinking and I’ll snoop around for some more information about him. You’re getting laid with Harry Styles tonight, I’m fucking calling it.” Maya said, self-assured, and grabbed Y/Ns arm to head towards to bar. It was indeed time for a drink. Och seven.

It was slightly later in the evening. The sky wasn’t quite dark yet, but the string lights hanging above the outside area of the villa was giving the whole evening a much cozier feel, despite people being drunk off their asses. Y/N had was walking away from the crowd, knowing she needed a breather. Maybe a cigarette. She didn’t usually smoke, however at parties, she’d like to have one here and there. And it was a perfect excuse to get away for a moment. She could feel the alcohol in her system, but she wasn’t quite drunk, at least not yet.

As she looked around the crowd of people to find a way out, she caught his eyes again. Harry. It looked like he was standing in a circle with who she’s guessing was his friends, but the moment they made eye contact, none of them looked away. He smiled with those insanely sweet dimples, giving her a nod and then got dragged back into the conversation once more. Y/N smiled. Maybe she didn’t mess up as bad as she thought.

Y/N was sneaking away from the crowd for a moment and went down to the lake close by the house. And even though it was close enough that she could still hear the yelling, loud voices from the bar, and the music blasting lake, coming down to the still water gave her a sense of tranquillity. Still buzzing from the drinks she had ingested, she smiled to herself, like you do, and sat down in the grass by the lake.

She pulled out one of her cigarettes and lit it up. Deep strokes were inhaled and exhaled as the nicotine from the cigarette made her calm out to her fingertips.

“See, I didn’t take you as a smoker.” She heard a voice behind her. She knew it was him without even looking back, the deep, sultry voice and slight northern british accent.

“Well if you knew me, you’d know I’m not a smoker, guess you’ve got a lot to learn.” Y/N replied cheekily as he sat down beside her. Y/N hadn’t looked at him yet, he did make her nervous, for sure, her stomach churning and even though he was sat next to her, at least 20 centimetres away, it was like she could feel the heat from his body from where she was sitting. She finally decided to look up at him, eyes sparkling from the reflection of the lake and hair tousled in an annoyingly good-looking way, She drew her hand up, wordlessly offering him a drag from her cigarette. Maybe she was going to be brave today. “I’m no smoker either.” He said, and in the middle of the sentence reaching up and takin the cigarette she offered, smiling at her. “Hmm, I guess there’s a lot I don’t know about you, either.” She said, pulling her knees up and resting her arms overtop. She chuckled. “Want to play 20 questions?” She continued, laughing at her youthful wording. He laughed, handing her cigarette back, “Ask away, love.”

Y/N had no idea how long they had been sitting at the lake. It could’ve been a few minutes, or hours. They asked each other ridiculous questions, answers becoming even more strange and somehow deep and more meaningful by the minute. Sometimes a scilence fell over them, thinking about what to answer the other, but it was never that awkward feeling, he was just so easy. Patient, kind, and teasing, but in the most loving way a person could be. “What does it matter if I scrunch or fold the toilet paper?” Harry asked her, laughter erupting from him, shaking his whole body. Y/N was acting offended but smiling big as she shook her head. “I feel like it says a lot about a person! And from what I’m gathering you’re a scruncher.” She said, looking at him with an accusatory look. He raised his hand as if he’s surrendering. “Alright, alright.”

Harry felt free talking to her. She was so unbothered and funny, yet still had this bottomless depth of a personality.

Harry was the type of person to fall in love quickly, he knew this. It was also an issue, because in this situation, he already knew he was in deep shit looking at her curls falling from her head to her eyes scrunching up when she smiled. He was so fucked. Y/N on the other hand, was almost surprised that she managed to keep her cool talking to him. She could tell his eyes lingered on her face a little bit longer than necessary, and how his body language had opened up to her, almost matching hers. Y/N however, wasn’t one to fall in love quickly or without rhyme or reason. She knew that falling in love would take hard work, dedication from both people and most of all, attraction. So, the feeling of her chest feeling tight when Harry laughed at her stupid comments, or how her stomach churned when their eyes met was a foreign, and new feeling to her. Was this how it was supposed to feel like the whole time? Maybe she just hadn’t found her person.

Suddenly Y/N stood up. Eyeing the lake and then looking at Harry. He knew exactly what she meant. “You can’t be serious. It’s the beginning of may, it’s going to be freezing.” He looked at her, face challenging and unserious. “Oh I’m fully serious, watch me:” Y/N replied, tugging her top over her had and pulling down her trousers, leaving her in just her underwear as she ran towards the lake and clumsily jumped in. Harry instantly looked away from her body, keeping his eyes on her face as she ripped the clothes off her body, the gentleman he was.

She was so free. And Harry hadn’t felt like that in years. As she emerged from the water, her whole body till in the water, she said, “Are you coming, or?” Dragging out her R’s as to tease him slightly.

And it was almost like he couldn’t protest as to what his body did next. He stood up and started pulling off his shoes, along with his other clothes. “Shit. I can’t even believe this.” He said quietly to himself as he focused on not toppling over from the previous alcohol he had ingested.

Y/N swam out into the depths of the water as she saw him coming into the water after her. A constant smile on his pink lips, his cheeks aching from all the laughs she had given him, he swam up behind her, diving into the water and grabbing her ankle as she tried to fight him back.

They splashed at eachother, swam, and laughed without a care in the world. Without a care that this huge party was going on just 50 metres away from them; they were in their own little bubble.

They were out of breath by now, lips turning blue in the chilly May temperature. Harry was shivering from the cold, but honestly, he could barely feel the biting water that surrounding him when he looked at her. Her now et hair perfectly slicked against her head and eyes gleaming, but he could tell that she was shivering as well.

She swam up to him, deciding to be brave, embracing the fire in her chest and the confidence from the alcohol and his loving gazes. She wrapped her legs around his hips in the water, arms around his neck as she scratched his baby hairs at the nape of his neck. She could feel his whole body tighten up as he clasped his arms around her middle. They were face to face in the water, close, close. Breaths heaving and cold, blue lips smiling. She finally had his eyes looking at hers. “Is this alright?” Harry asked, almost shyly, a furrow in his brow as if it wasn’t her who came up to him and wrapped herself around his body. She nodded. “You haven’t looked at my body even once.” She said calmly, forehead leaning against his, eyes still set on his.

He chuckled. “I..I didn’t want to without it being okay with you.” The confident and self-assured Harry she had seen earlier almost completely gone as he grabbed her closer, bringing her so that her body was flush against his. “You’re sweet. But if I remember correctly I was the one who pulled all my clothes off in front of you and dragged you into the water. I want you to look at me.” She replied to him, giving the back of his neck a scratch with her nails. She could feel the hairs on his arms standing up from goosebumps, but she couldn’t tell if it was her doing or if it was the cold water. He broke their eye contact and looked down, his forehead nudging her nose. Harry let a puff of air escape his lungs, “I’m in so much trouble with you.” Y/N smiled at his comment, and he looked up at her again, foreheads touching once again. Harry’s hand came up to touch her cheek, and she leaned into his hand, placing a gentle kiss on his palm. If this was in any other dimension, Y/N was sure she could see hearts in his eyes as he looked at her lips touching his palm. Y/N writhed in his arms, cold lips like magnets, wanting to button together as if the universe had them made for each other. Neither Y/N or Harry knows how long this silent dreamstate they were in lasted, switching breaths and desperately wanting to get closer. “Can i kiss you?” Harry whispered, breaking the silence between them. And before Harry could even listen for an answer from her, their lips met in a mix of warmth, magic, and desperation. Harry let a moan slip out when their lips finally touched. This was the feeling he had been chasing ever since he almost knocked her to the ground earlier in the day. The tense desperation building between them ever since they sat down at the lake and ever since he had laid eyes on her. It was her, it was all her on his mind, Harry felt like he could go crazy, just by having her lips touching his. Their kiss continued, hands touching and grabbing at their sides, hair and cheeks. As they broke their kiss they didn’t dare to speak. It felt like all of their manners and etiquette had been drained from them, letting their nature take over in overwhelmingly good kisses. “I hate to do this, but I think my toes are about to fall off of my body.” Harry whispered to her, his confidence wittiness from the start, back in his voice. Y/N gave him a “Mhm.” As he started to move them to the shoreline, limbs still tangled and frozen to each other’s bodies.

Harry put Y/N down as they reached the grass, and man, now without her body clinging to his, he could really feel the cold. He grabbed his coat that was still laying on the grass, draping it over Y/N’s shoulders. The rest of their clothes and shoes as well as the now almost empty pack of cigarettes, he scooped up in his arms. “C’mon.” He smiled to her, giving her a short kiss to her lips, leading the way around the house and to the room he was staying in for the night. She looked at him with pure adoration and love-sickness at this point, and followed along.

It was almost 3am at this point, and the party out in the garden was still in full swing, Y/N thought to herself that if she knew her friends right, they party was just now starting, and they would keep going until at least 5am, waiting for the sun to start rising.

It was Y/N’s turn to feel shy as Harry had his arm in the small of her back, letting her into his room. He immediately dropped their clothes and belongings on the floor of the hallway and dragged her with him to the bathroom. They were both shaking from the cold as Harry’s icy fingers turned on the shower and pulled her in with him, both still in their underwear. “God, I can’t even feel the bottom half of my body. Remind me to never do that again, even if it is to impress a cute boy.” Y/N stuttered out as they waited for the water to turn hot. She didn’t look at him, her eyes focusing on the water, waiting for the steam to engulf her. However, if she had looked at him, she would see the same love-sick eyes and syrupy sweet smile spreading on his features. “No more impressing cute boys, I’ll get too jealous, if I’m honest.” He said as he pulled her in under the water, their bodies immediately relaxing under the heat of the water, skin turning bright red from the change in temperature.

Their lips found each other once again, in the warm water of Harry’s shower. Hands moving to touch wherever they could. “Will you stay here with me tonight?” Harry let out between kisses.

Y/N did a crash-analysis in her head the moment he asked her. Was he looking for just a one-time thing? He was famous after all, maybe this was just how he brought home the girl’s he’d like to sleep with. No, she could swear there was something in his eyes that wasn’t just lust and looking for someone to stick his dick into, this was something else. She decided to be brave, maybe even test him, if you will.

She nodded to his question, “Yes.”

As they got out of the shower, Harry offered her some warm clothes from his suitcase. She climbed into the fluffy cloud of a bed, freshly washed with crisp white linen that made her almost let out a moan from how good it felt. She put herself in the middle of the bed, and turned to the window, closing her eyes for a moment, smiling for herself as she tried to comprehend all that happened this evening.

Harry joined her in bed, also in a fresh pair of underwear and sweats, chest bare as still flushed red from their shower. “Can I lay next to you?” Harry let out as he lifted the duvet, always asking her for permission. He really was the most careful and caring person, she was realizing. And he she felt almost dumb to have even considered that the chemistry they had was to be excused as a simple hook-up at a party. She didn’t answer him, but he helped him raise the duvet further and reached her arms out for him as an invitation. He looked at her as he got in right next to her, as their limbs once again tangled together for further connection and closeness.

And they talked, they continued talking through the night, playing with fingers, listening and laughing at anecdotes, jokes and facts.

Harry could tell her eyes was starting to droop as her speech got quieter and more slurred, words getting caught in her lips on their way out. “Shhhh,” Harry hushed her in the middle of the sentence. “Sleep and we’ll talk more in the morning; I’m not letting you out of that cliffhanger that easily though.” He continued with fondness in his voice, kissing her cheek and forehead, Y/N relaxing in his arms. Y/N let out a happy sigh of contentment as she cuddled closer to Harry’s chest, face fully burrowed into his neck and breathing in his natural scent. She was already drifting off though, there was nothing stopping her now.

They both fell asleep that night in each other’s arms, engrossed in what would bloom to become the most beautiful, important relationship they had ever had. But at that point, bundled up in each other’s arms and peacefully resting through to the late morning - they just didn’t know yet.

[maskofenigma]

Fallen London's recurring topic of Love is really interesting to me as a sort of throughline between various stories and i want to ramble about discuss that briefly. i dont call it a theme because thematic statements are usually more complex than a single word, at least in my mind, but a lot of Fallen London's storylines incorporate love into their themes.

there's the obvious things ofc; the Manager and the King, the Duchess and the Canigaster, Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, the Bazaar's whole situation. Love is a common motivator that many people can relate to, so it's no surprise that it appears in this capacity. Even so, these instances also underpin a lot of the setting's character, particularly the latter two examples, explaining why the neath is the way it is. but if we broaden our horizons just a bit, you can start to see it appearing all over the place (though maybe thats just confirmation bias lol).

the youthful naturalist loves discovery and life, and evolution in that context is a story about what one is willing to endure and sacrifice for that love. Love is a constant theme in the Light Fingers storyline, between moon milk and poor Edward, but also shows in Mr Fires's love for London (strange and deleterious though it may be) and the protagonist's love for either the Hybrid they protected or the diamond they'd been after. I don't know as much about the other ambitions (yet), but Nemesis is all about avenging a loved one by any means necessary, and you could see Bag a Legend as a love for the hunt or a love of fame, though even i’ll admit thats a bit of a stretch. Idk about Heart's Desire i’m still working on it but there's probably something. Its literally about what your heart desires but there’s absolutely a deeper connection with the Marvellous and stuff. No spoilers i'm still working on it :3

i dont know a ton about SMEN's story either, but i know from a ludonarrative perspective that it tests the players love for their character, forcing you to ruin this silly victorian who you are presumably quite attached to in the search for knowledge (perhaps another kind of love?) With what little i know of it, i’d honestly be shocked if there wasn’t anything there. if ao3 has taught me anything, there was definitely some kind of love going on between those two space bats, but im not sure if ao3 is a reputable source in this specific instance

The Flukes are literally sick with love for lost Axile, and a lot of the Masters are shown yearning to return to the High Wilderness. Many of the Irem Destinies regard love in this way, love for the sun, for the liberation, for ones partner, for london, for the people of the neath, and on and on. im not very far along with the railway but im 100% certain itll crop up again there, whether with Furnace Ancona or the Efficient Commissioner or the masters or whatever else. same goes for the Exceptional Stories and the myriad tales ive yet to unlock. Weve started to see a glimmer of it in firmament, with the imminent lucifer fire guy, but i wasnt really sure what his deal was. the idea extends to the other Sunless games from what i know, though ive yet to play those. Mask of the Rose is a romance, so thats pretty clear cut; sunless skies seems to have a lot of content relating to Queen Victoria and Prince Albert; and sunless seas seems to have it present in a few storylines, though i couldnt point to anything specific at this time. even small things, such as the way that the railway steel seems drawn to Hell and the sorrowful properties of sphinxstone, makes for a setting that is inundated with longing and heartbreak in a fascinating way.

viewed through this lens, fallen london's perspective on love is tragically earnest: love is painful and unfair and yet so very necessary. as someone who's aromantic and a hater, i call that an L. but from a thematic perspective its very interesting how often this occurs and how it connects a lot of fallen london. In so many other narratives, love is a conclusion, a reward or climax. In fact, mass media seems allergic to depicting an active and healthy relationship, and instead relegates such matters to a single ceremonious kiss. But for fallen london, a game where kisses are currency and romance is taxed, the concept of love is afforded such an interesting amount of care and reverence. Fitting for a setting wherein the insisting incidents all relate to love in some way or another

it may be comedic and at times quite absurd, but fallen london to me is a game deeply concerned with love and its influence on people. and idk i think thats interesting. if you're looking for the theme or message of a given fallen london story, look to love, always.

does that count as a thesis? i certainly dont know

[cfffrk]

WW2 AU

PART 1

(+2scetches)

One September day, B. Wooster found out about Jeeves' disappearance from Aunt Dahlia's telegram.

Early summer of 1940. Bertram Wooster was completing his studies at an aviation school. At the same time his faithful valet, Jeeves, temporarily went to the service of the already mentioned relative at Brinkley Court and became the second jewel in the staff of servants besides the highly talented cook Anatole.

Due to the straitened financial situation of Uncle Tom, who complained more and more about the increasing taxes, the dearest aunt had to take forced measures and fire a few servants. She wanted to make a small sacrifice, and it might have been enough if one day her stingy husband had not cut the already small wages of the remaining servants. Many of them had applied for dismissal after that, and they were quite understandable.

This radical decision, although to a lesser extent, also affected Jeeves. Nevertheless, he continued to be a professional. He fulfilled his basic duties and often helped her, and her old friends get out of troubles.

Within a few months of Jeeves' work, they had become friends. Bertram almost felt like a third wheel in this idyll when he came to visit and boast of his achievements. Aunt Dahlia treasured her new valet and his unrivalled intelligence, and often jokingly promised in letters to her nephew that Jeeves would be returned safe and sound.

That was why she was seriously worried when Jeeves went missing. One clear day in early September, an elderly relative had let him go to London on his own business. In addition to this, it was Jeeves' duty to check on their good old Berkeley Mansions flat from time to time and keep it clean, so he planned to finish his business by evening and stay in the city overnight. He was supposed to return early the next morning. But that never happened. Not in two days. Not in three.

That night London was bombarded.

Something seemed to snap and collapse inside Bertie when he learnt that the search for Jeeves had been fruitless. Neither his relatives nor his club could shed any light on his mysterious disappearance.

The dark thoughts from which Bertram had fled during the day caught up with him at night. He would toss and turn on the hard bed, thinking of Jeeves's fate and replaying happy memories of their past, and in the daytime, tired and broken, he would give his duty to his country.

The whole situation seemed strange and unreal to him. The only thing that was found out for sure was that no one appeared in the apartment that miraculously survived the monstrous raids that day. It was dusty.

A couple of months had passed since the tragedy that divided Bertie's life into before and after. The war continued. He was learning to adjust to his new reality.

Sometimes he managed to carve out some free time and pop into London for a bit. The city where he had lived more than a third of his life was in ruins. The familiar places where he used to meet his friends and have a good time were empty.

Your humble servant avoided going into that very flat. There were too many vivid memories of that place, which painfully and mercilessly squeezed Bertram Wooster's poor skull. Indeed, the most precious person in his life had been living at his side all that time.

But still, as the sole and responsible owner of his property, he had to overpower himself. He had to go in and make sure that everything was all right. And one such day Bertie found himself there, in their former cozy home.

He walked in and looked around the living room: a layer of dust covering almost everything, furniture wrapped in covers, and only a few of his own things that he had left or forgotten here. The piano was covered with a cloth. Unbearably quiet and lifeless. There was nobody else to keep order here, nobody else's hand to create the home comfort. Sorrowful feelings pressed upon his chest.

He looked all over the flat. Almost all of it. There was only one room left to check.

After a moment's hesitation, Bertram pulled himself together and went into Jeeves's room. He had only glimpsed it from inside before. It was modest and not as spacious as his bedroom. Wooster sat down on the perfectly made bed, looking at what little was left of his dear friend, guide, and philosopher. His eyes rested on the various books dusting the shelves and cupboards.

He recognized one of them. It was the volume of Spinoza's writings he had given Jeeves for his birthday. No doubt Jeeves had read it all. As the rest of the books in the room. Bertie remembered his politely grateful smile and how he had clearly decided that this fellow deserved a whole library of those Spinozas.

He got out of bed. The code of the Woosters did not allow him to touch other people's things (even if those things belonged to a man who might never come back into his life), but something outweighed the young master's unwavering principles that day.

He didn't even notice how he left the flat with the book in his hands.

Of course, this sort of talisman invariably occupied a place in his suitcase. Though he had endeavored to handle the book with care, it had become tattered with the passage of time. Bertram often held it in his hands, flicked through the pages, ran his eyes over the neat pencil notes of its former owner. It calmed him a little in the most difficult moments of his pilot practice. He didn't understand anything about philosophy, but he treasured this book too damn much.

When they reunited, they were about a year away from the end of the war. The house with their previous flat was in a state of emergency damaged by the recent bombing raids, so Jeeves looked for a new flat for them while his employer was still undergoing treatment.

It happened some time later after their move-in. Jeeves was doing his household chores while the young master followed him around and chattered about anything that came into his head. It would have annoyed anyone, but not Jeeves.

You see, he had been abroad for a long time. However, he was not on holiday. Against his will, he was assigned important tasks and missions which he had to fulfil if he did not want to lose his freedom, his successful career, his reputation, his family, and friends. The special promise of making one particular person's life unbearable also left him no choice.

Every day, Jeeves felt like he was sitting on a powder keg: at any moment, a surprise inspection could come through the doors of his headquarters. A highly undesirable event for a man who kept fake documents, weapons, and encrypted data transmission devices in his flat. But all possible escape routes had been carefully worked out and memorized: Jeeves was always prudent. Otherwise, he had to have time to take a special pill before he found himself tied to a chair in a small interrogation room.

Keeping his charm and politeness, he was effective in getting the right information from the right people. His knowledge of psychology and accumulated experience of working with people helped him in this.

Jeeves' missions were rarely close to failure. His life depended on it.

The slightest mistake could have been fatal to him. Of course, he had learned much about the country during his training to pass for a typical Frenchman. His French had been practically flawless even before, which only made his life easier. But still somewhere in the back of his mind was the fear that he would be exposed for the smallest inaccuracy.

Jeeves lived under a false identity with a fake life story. He changed outwardly and inwardly. His gait, the way he spoke, his body language, his facial expressions. He had complete control over his body. Especially his gaze, which could tell a lot about his thoughts. It was exhausting.

After a long time of living in this way, he began to have trouble sleeping: he slept very little and sensitively or could not fall asleep at all.

He rarely had any dreams during the restless hours when he was able to fall asleep. Sometimes he had nightmares. But they were not about him. They were about Mr Wooster. Same scenario: church, flowers, closed coffin. Then it would slowly open from the inside. And Jeeves would wake up in a cold sweat.

On sleepless nights, he was also tormented by thoughts of his former employer. Where was he now? Was he all right? Was he even alive? How did he feel about his disappearance? Would he want to see him again...?

Jeeves felt his mind, which he relied on in the most critical situations, begin to fail.

Meeting his employer again and doing the household chores for him, he felt himself slowly getting his head in order. He was enjoying the much-anticipated company of Mr Wooster. It soothed him and made him feel at home.

Jeeves opened the closet to put the ironed clothes in it. The young master standing next to him had been lost in the chatter and missed the moment when he should have pulled him back. In the next moment Jeeves had pulled the ruined book out of the wardrobe the same way as he pulled out foreign clothes. By the title of the book, he thought at first that his master was interested in serious literature. But on closer look and leafing through the book, he realized that it was his own.

Bertie watched it silently with his eye wide open. He couldn't just get rid of it, but at the same time he was ashamed to return a book in such a terrible condition to its owner. He planned to buy the exact same one soon, but until then, this volume of essays would be safely hidden away. But here his innocent secret was revealed. Jeeves looked at him with a silent question in his eyes.

He tried to justify himself, but this particular Wooster was a bad liar. Especially when the pent-up feelings were starting to overwhelm him. Jeeves often let his employer fool him about little things, but they both knew very well that it was actually impossible to do this. A couple of precise laconic remarks and B. Wooster found himself disarmed. He took a breath of air and began to speak.

Jeeves listened patiently to his poor master with a mask of calmness pulled over his face and dared not interrupt.

He was sorry. He was deeply sorry for the pain he had caused Mr Wooster and his dear people by his forced departure. However, Jeeves spoke little and reluctantly about what he had been doing in recent years and did not tell anyone about the very reasons for his disappearance. This information could have caused a lot of trouble.

And Bertram realized it. His Jeeves could not just disappear for no reason, he was sure of it. But sometimes, in the deep sleepless night, a wild guess would cross his weary mind. What if Jeeves had run away, had simply abandoned him? Of course, Bertie had scolded himself for such thoughts in the mornings then. And today when Jeeves prepares breakfast for him, reminds him to take his medicine, and helps him to dress, that idea seems to him on the verge of sanity. But then he was quite capable of finding irrefutable evidence in all sorts of little things. At that time, he did not know what to think: the search for the injured had ended, Jeeves remained on the list of missing persons.

Bertram stood before him and could find no more words. But words were no longer needed. Jeeves looked at him with bright, penetrating eyes and the silence that settled in the room was filled with peace. Jeeves was truly touched. He felt a huge boulder fall from his soul.

It seemed now, as his employer lowered his head dejectedly and hid his wet eyes from him, they had the perfect moment to dot the «i».

It's been a long day.

Of course, this book stayed in their new flat and became a symbol of something important for them. Bertram, Jeeves' poor love, had indeed taken desperate measures then.

However, Jeeves pointed out that such measures would no longer be necessary.

For now, he would be there for him. He came back.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 28 - Library

@jegulus-microfic August 28, Word count 681

Previous part First Wolfstar part

The Potter family library was an absolute mess by the time they were done with it. The five of them had dragged book after book off the shelves searching for any mention of the Gaunts. Remus found that they’d once owned Salazar’s Locket, but it had been sold by Merope in London. 

“Probably to Borgin and Burkes,” Regulus mused aloud. They’d have paid a good price for it. 

“Then there was Slytherin’s actual wand,” Marcus said in awe, reading from one of the wand maker’s books for some reason. “It says here that Gormlaith Gaunt had it but his niece Isolt Sayre stole it and, wow, she and her husband founded Ilvermorny! It says she was buried with the wand and a snakewood tree grew over her grave and apparently the leaves have magical properties. Well, that’s the wand gone as well then,” Marcus shrugged and shut the book. 

“They also had a ring,” James added, reading from the thin book in his hand. “It is said to be a gold ring with a black stone inset and rumoured to carry the Peverell coat of arms. Pretty sure I’m related to the Peverell’s as well, you know,” James frowned. “As far as anyone knows, it never left the family, so Morfin might still have it,” Sirius shook his head. 

“They wouldn’t have let him keep anything like that in Azkaban. More likely it was given to his next of kin, if he even still had it by then.”

“His next of kin being Tom Riddle,” Regulus said after Sirius had finished talking. 

“Have we found where the residence is yet?” Remus asked. “It would probably be a good starting place.” 

“Erm, hang on, I swear I saw something earlier,” Sirius said, throwing scrolls over his shoulder and tossing books onto other tables. “Ah-ha, here it is. It’s just outside somewhere called Little Hangleton.”

“Then that’s where we’re going next,” Regulus declared, gathering all the different texts together and putting them in his pocket. 

“How are you doing that?” James asked, as Regulus stuffed a heavy tome into his pocket that shouldn't have been able to fit. 

“Undetectable expansion charm mixed with a weightlessness charm. I thought it might come in useful,” Regulus shrugged. 

“Brilliant,” James smiled at him warmly. Regulus felt a hot blush spread across his cheeks at the praise from his boyfriend. His ears began to burn at the thought of being James's boyfriend. 

“Master Regulus, will you's be wanting your bunny slippers for your trip?” Flitsy said from the doorway, holding up the squashy pink slippers. 

“Hey, I gave those to you James,” Remus grumbled as Regulus dashed forward to take them from the elf, glowering at her the entire time. His face bright red now, he put them in his pocket so she’d stop using them against him. 

“Ahahahahahaha,” Sirius barked out a laugh at the slippers. “Of all the things for you to wear,” He snorted at Regulus. 

“Master Sirius, will you's be wanting your lucky underwear?” Flitsy piped up again, holding up a pair of bright orange briefs with CC written on them in big white overlapping letters. 

“Hey!” Sirius squawked as he pelted across the library to snatch them from her hands. “Traitor,” He told the elf. 

“Nuisance,” Flitsy spat back, sticking her tongue out. 

“Love you,” Sirius grinned at her. 

“Love you's too, Master Sirius,” Flitsy rolled her eyes at him and stuck out her cheek for a kiss which Sirius more than happily gave her. “Master James, do you's know when you’s becoming back again?” She asked, arching a brow. 

“Definitely in six days, it’s the full moon. But I’m not sure if we’ll be back before then or not. Sorry Flitsy, I’ll try and send word if we’re coming,” He tried to placate the elf. 

“See that you's do's, Master James,” And she slammed the door on them. This time Regulus definitely heard her cackle. 

“Shall we go find this Gaunt place then?” Sirius asked the group. Remus pulled out a map and found Little Hangleton, and they prepared to leave.

Next part

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Thanks to Ingek73 for sending this 1873 school that was converted to  residential use in the 1990’s in London, UK. Some original features such as staircases, roof structure and fireplaces have survived. 4bds, 3ba, £1,450,000 / $1.837M +  £11,520 / $14,597 yearly service fee.

This is a different style from the one we saw yesterday. This one is more rustic/industrial and, of course, more colorful.

Look at the interesting railings. I'm surprised that the cat doesn't climb that.

Comfortable, casual living room area.

It has a modern fireplace built into the wall.

What a nice kitchen. Now, I can't decide which one I like better.

There's a smaller dining table in the kitchen, as well as one that seats 8.

That's nice, a fireplace in the kitchen.

What a cool bathroom. Very modern industrial.

Look at the shelving in the railing.

There's this net thing for the kids to play in.

Quite a lot of options regarding levels.

Nice small den has its own bathroom.

And a small desk in the corner of the mezzanine.

This is a large apt. b/c it has 4 bedrooms. The primary is nice and big. It overlooks the first floor and also features a window.

Very industrial cement and brick bath.

Sizable room for a nursery.

I wouldn't want to make this a children's room. Not with that gorgeous fireplace.

This is nice. The other apt. we saw didn't have any outdoor space. I think if I had to choose between the 2, it would be this one, even though I would buy the other one b/c of the sophisticated, smaller look size. I don't need this much space.

[i-love-invincible]

Flight in Invincible

[AS USUAL MAJOR SPOILERS INVINCIBLE SEASON 1]

The way that flying is portrayed, both thematically and stylistically, is really interesting. When Mark Grayson (soon to be hero, Invincible) is first presented with the idea of flight on-screen it is shown to him as an extreme convenience, and why wouldn't it be? Nolan and Debbie are FLYING to Berlin to get breakfast, and he just wants some sausages. That is this teenager's biggest worry right now.

Even when we see Mark get his powers for the first time (throwing a trash bag all the way to London) he isn't truly excited until he learns to fly for the first time, via jumping off the roof of his own house. This obviously ends badly when he doesn't know how to stop himself, floats out into space, passes out, and crash-lands into asphalt. It goes horribly, which alongside his terrible lesson with his dad, reinforces that he is going to put in a lot of work to live up to Omniman.

When he does get slightly more comfortable with flight he goes out to find a villain to beat up, and even just searching for the source of the crime he causes massive damage just flying into random bullshit. When he DOES fight Titan he flies through fences and signs, smashing into brick walls, before finally taking the guy down. He is literally unaware that just with his fast flight and invulnerability he can cause MASS property destruction. When his father catches him doing this he points this out, and Mark lashes out at him, saying that all he wants to do is be like him. He is using his powers to try, with all his might, to be like his dad.

The morning of his first lesson with his dad, we get the BAREST piece of insight into how Viltrumite flight works: telling him that Viltrumites don't need to pivot on their feet but can physically push off of anything, even empty air, and that Viltrumites can "freely move themselves through physical space." The way Mark moves in the air is also very interesting, he wobbles in the air, as if physically struggling to HOLD his position, as if he's like editing his X Y Z values in real time. This is in contrast to Omniman who can literally stand completely still in the air. There's a couple of other shots and animation moments of Omniman (especially in the last couple episodes) that really emphasize just how WEIRD and ALIEN he looks when he flies. It's unnerving, and that feeling really contributes to how scary he is.

When Mark meets another superhero his age, he is full of relief. They have a talk about what it's like to actually BE superheroes on the field and we have this brief flying montage with him and Atom Eve together. Where Mark actually has someone to RELATE to, someone to teach him more about superhero-ing (without also y'know... being his dad.)

I've seen someone talk about this comparison before (if someone can tell me who it was I will edit this to credit them) but look at the way that Eve flies. She propels herself using energy from her powers. She flies like a plane, literally burning fuel to push herself through the air. She flies like, well like a HUMAN would. While Mark just floats there like a freakin' alien.

But there's more to flight than demonstrating how weird Viltrumites are: there's also an emotional element. When Debbie finds her son, Mark, practicing his flight landings and repeatedly smashing into the ground they have a little emotional mom-and-son talk. She says to him that when he was young it was just the two of them together while Nolan went on all these crazy superhero adventures, but now that Mark has gotten his powers she is left completely alone. She says "I can't talk to you while we soar through the clouds, but I'm still here." Mark just got his powers and already there is an emotional barrier between them, demonstrated through the analogy of flight.

Later on when Debbie is pouring out her emotions to Nolan, telling him about all the stress she feels over the death of the Guardians, her son, and her husband she says: "I feel like we're standing on the edge of a cliff, and I'm the only one of us who can't fly." Flight represents an emotional separation. A layer of suppression between the superheroes and normal regular folk.

Even in the last battle between Nolan and Mark, Debbie is relegated to the sidelines, both physically and emotionally. She is forced to watch on a TV SCREEN as the two most important people in her life fight to the death. Forced to watch her husband dismiss her relevance, dismiss the life she spent with him, dismiss her as "a pet" due to her relatively short lifespan in comparison to him. It is absolutely devastating.

And in one of the last scenes of the whole show, when Mark returns to his home after TWO WEEKS in the hospital, the SECOND they have privacy Mark floats into the air and starts to hover. It's comfortable for him now, flying is his natural resting state, it's literally EASIER than standing. Not only does it serve to show us how much Mark has developed his control of his powers, but also as a reminder that he will NEVER be like a regular human. A reminder that he will always be like his father.

[reikunrei]

Who's Mummy, Anyway?

It's more Doctor Who inspiration time!! I wanted to explore another set of episodes, this time from season 1:

Episode 9: The Empty Child and Episode 10: The Doctor Dances

These episodes revolve around strange happenings during the London Blitz on January 20th, 1941. The Doctor and his companion, Rose, follow an object through spacetime, where it crashes on Earth. Meanwhile, a young boy is wandering looking for his mother, though he's been changed by this fallen object and its yet-unknown properties. And he's infecting others, making them "like him." Ultimately, the solution to their predicament revolves around figuring out the true identity of this boy's mother, finally bringing an end to his search.

Prior to watching these episodes again, all I remembered was that there was a hivemind-type element involved, among some other details. What I didn't remember, however, was the everything else surrounding this boy.

In the following scene, the Doctor is reacting to the phone ringing in the front panel of his Tardis (which takes the shape of a police call box). However, it's not a real phone, it's just part of the Tardis's disguise, and therefore shouldn't actually work. Just when he's about to answer it, a young woman shows up and tells him not to. However, he doesn't heed her warning and when she disappears, he answers it anyway.

They don't give it subtitles in the DW episode, but before the child actually starts speaking, there's a muffled, garbled sort of static-like breathing, very similar to Will on the phone with Joyce.

He follows this girl to a house, where she and a group of homeless kids she watches after are eating from a meal left on the table. At the present moment, there's an air raid occurring, and this girl takes advantage of that to feed the kids when the homeowners are stuck in their bomb shelters. And when the Doctor calls her out on it (though he admits he thinks it's brilliant) he says:

Which... just... well, I wasn't expecting a TFS reference like that. But anyway, jokes aside...

The Doctor asks these kids why they haven't been evacuated yet, as they should be in the countryside by now. However, several of them admit that they had been evacuated, but they came back for one reason or another. For at least two of them, it was because they had to deal with "a man" at whatever home they were evacuated to, and they decided that being out here, taken care of by this young woman, was a far better bargain.

This stuff never comes up again, but boy, a group of kids who have to deal with an unsavory man? Okay, throwaway-line Martin Brenner!

This is where the Doctor also learns that this girl's name is Nancy... word.

He asks her again how his phone could have been ringing, since she seemed to know why, but she won't reveal anymore information to him. Instead, he cracks a very Brenner-vibes joke when asking if any of them have seen Rose, who he got separated from at the start of the episode:

We all know that Brenner needed one specific blonde boy in order for his "research" to work...

Nancy's about to kick the Doctor out so the rest of them can finish their meal in peace when the boy searching for his mummy shows up outside the window. The boy is young - 5-6 years old - and wearing a gas mask. Nancy gets all the other kids to escape out the back of the house while the boy waits at the front door for "mummy" to let him inside. Nancy gives the Doctor a little more cryptic information and the phone in the foyer starts ringing, but when Nancy doesn't let the Doctor answer it, the boy's voice then comes through a nearby radio, and even through a motorized toy, which I think speaks for itself in terms of similarities to voices coming through radios/speakers and them otherwise acting on the fritz in ST...

"It's not exactly a child" had my ears perking up too irt @aemiron-main's posts about doppelgangers.

Nancy flees out the back, leaving only the Doctor with this boy on the other side of the bolted front door. The boy reaches through the mail slot, where we then see he has a scar on the back of his right hand.

Photos taken from this post by @henrysglock.

Now obviously the scars don't look the same. The one on this boy is just superficial (unlike Henry's, which seems to hold some form of importance we have yet to fully uncover), and they're not even on the same hand. However, it's still an important detail that's imperative to the Doctor's understanding of what's going on here, and comes up again later.

The Doctor tries speaking to the boy, but he simply continues asking for his mummy and begging to be let in because the bombs are scaring him. However, when the Doctor opens the front door, the boy vanishes.

With the "threat" gone, the Doctor chases after Nancy, finding her in an old railroad yard. She's still his best bet for finding out what's going on, so he asks her again about the boy. He's deduced that this boy has something to do with the object he and Rose had been chasing.

I didn't mention it earlier, but when they're chasing this object through spacetime, they struggle to keep up with it because it's "jumping time-tracks," so when they land on Earth, it's only a general estimate, both in location and time. They're roughly a month out from when it landed, and thus have to ask around to figure out where it is... we only had a month of peace in that house... anyway...

Also... a bomb that wasn't a bomb vs the huge amounts of energy needed to open a gate to the UD, El being called a "fancy bomb"...

Nancy takes him to where the object crashed and instructs him to go to the nearby hospital to talk to "the Doctor" there. Before he leaves, however, he asks her who she "lost."

We all know what the "lost" reminded me of... even the "he's empty" from earlier as compared to Max's mind being empty/just being the void or the "darkness," if we want to speculate on what that means.

So, we learn that the boy who's been following Nancy around is her little brother, Jamie, who was killed during an air raid around the time that this object crashed to Earth.

The Doctor goes to the hospital to see... the Doctor... who we learn is actually named Dr. Constantine (though I do have to really point at the weird emphasis they had on her simply calling him "the Doctor," which even confuses the actual Doctor, because Dr. Constantine is just a human, not a Time Lord, so what gives with the weird false curveball? Anyway, just something that really stuck out to me, especially irt all the weird name and identity stuff in ST). There, the Doctor sees that every bed is filled with patients who are all wearing gas masks, just like Jamie. The Doctor uses his sonic screwdriver to gather readings on all of the patients while Dr. Constantine warns him, "don't touch the flesh." (Which, this feels a little reachy, but it reminded me of an early interview for TFS where Bob's actor uses the phrase "in the flesh," which James talked about in this post). The Doctor learns that every patient has the exact same injuries:

Massive head trauma, mostly to the left side (okay Vecna), partial collapse of the chest cavity, mostly to the right, scarring on the back of the hand, and the gas masks are fused to the flesh despite a lack of burns.

We also see here that Dr. Constantine, who appears weak and is experiencing fits of coughing, is developing that same scar on the back of his own hand. Dr. Constantine explains how the first victim, Jamie, was brought in with "truly dreadful" injuries. By the following morning, all doctors and nurses who had treated him had the same injuries, and within the week, it had overrun the entire hospital.

When the Doctor asks what the cause of death was, Dr. Constantine says, "There wasn't one. They're not dead."

There is absolutely no sign of life in any of the victims, and yet they're "alive." They don't get out of their beds, they only respond to sudden noises that startle them (notably, they all respond in a group, like a hivemind. If one reacts to something, they all do), and Dr. Constantine even calls them "harmless."

The fact that they're dead-but-not-really obviously feels akin to the whole "Henry's dead but not really" deal going on in Stranger Things, both in the sense that his death in the outside world was faked so he could go to the lab unnoticed, but also reminded me of TFS and his ability to fend off the Shadow when Will had nearly fully succumbed to it in less than a week. Dr. Constantine even says that "[the patients] just don't die," which is very much like Vecna and his regenerative abilities/getting up and walking away after being flambée'd, as well as Brenner's seeming inability to stay dead.

While the Doctor continues talking to Dr. Constantine, Dr. Constantine proceeds to have a choking fit and his face morphs into a gas mask, his "infection" fully taking over.

At this point, Rose shows up at the hospital, having finally caught up to the Doctor with a new friend in tow: Jack Harkness.

I need to get into Jack Harkness in another post sometime once I do some more reading up on him again because he has a lot of interesting stuff that ties in with the Creels/I wouldn't be surprised if, in some way, shape, or form, he was some influence for Henward, but for now, we'll just stick to what's presented in these episodes.

When Rose initially got separated from the Doctor, it was because she saw Jamie on a rooftop and, concerned for this little boy out alone in wartime London, she went to meet him. However, she accidentally got swept off by a barrage balloon, having undone the rope tethering it in place as a way to climb the side of a building to reach Jamie. Jack spots her, and though he's presenting himself as a volunteer for the British army, he's actually from the 51st century. Using his spaceship, he rescues Rose when she nearly falls from her barrage balloon, catching her in a tractor beam and bringing her aboard.

We have a fun Victor Creel and Henry moment all wrapped up into one when Rose, a bit smitten by Jack, says hello twice.

Screenshot from this post made by Em regarding the weirdness about Victor and the Creel murders aftermath. Also thank you to Em for the screencaps of TFS!

As Rose and Jack flirt talk, he reveals that he believes Rose to be a Time Agent, since she's carrying a cell phone, has on a liquid crystal watch, and is wearing fabrics that won't be around for 20 years.

Even the stop acting now... a silly terrible play... anyway... Rose even keeps up the act of being a "Time Agent" and neither she nor the Doctor ever tell him they're not, he just figures it out.

When we meet Jack, we're also introduced to the concept of Nanogenes. Jack uses them to heal the rope burns on Rose's hand from when she fell off her barrage balloon. And I don't think I have to explain too much what this reminds me of, at least visually...

Another fun little detail I'll just shove in here is that Jack has parked his spaceship right beside Big Ben, that way it's easy to remember where he parked. The time on the clock reads 9:30 ("lessons start promptly at 10:00!") and Jack says they have just about 2 hours to close their deal before all bets are off (read: the bomb destroys it), which would be at almost midnight... and we sure love our midnight in ST, don't we? Not to mention that Jack is a captain... anyway...

We also learn that Jack was the reason this strange object crashed on Earth. He explains to them that he was trying to con them, deliberately sending a piece of space junk (it's an ambulance, of sorts, which Jack made sure was empty) through spacetime and would present it to them as something extremely valuable, but by the time the money would be exchanged, a German bomb was due to land exactly where the object had landed, thus destroying it before the Time Agents would be able to see what they paid for.

With that truth sorted out, the Doctor focuses back on the patients in the hospital, noting that it appears that their DNA is being rewritten.

I promise those Billy screenshots are gonna pay off later too...

It also made me think about the way Henry's blood changed after he was infected with the Shadow and the blood transfusions that happen in TFS, giving Henry's blood to the other lab kids to... do whatever it is that they haven't confirmed just quite yet, but likely has something to do with making them resilient to the Shadow or to Dimension X. James has spoken about that more in depth here, which I think is an interesting read.

Meanwhile, Nancy is back at the house they'd been eating at prior, packing up the rest of the food that was left. While there, Jamie speaks to her over the radio and then comes into the house. When she tries to flee out the door, he points at it and it slams shut in front of her and locks her inside with him.

At this same moment, all of the patients in the hospital get up out of their beds and begin asking for "mummy" while stalking toward the Doctor, Rose, and Jack, cornering them. Again, we're seeing this "hivemind" in action, the rest of them following what Jamie, the first victim, is doing.

Yes, the Doctor stops them by telling them to go to their room, which Jamie reacts to as well, thus saving Nancy. Yes, he's pleasantly surprised that it worked, too.

Also, just a fun little moment that I want to touch on that occurs here, when Nancy goes to leave the house, she runs into a little boy wearing a gas mask. She startles, thinking that it's Jamie again, but the boy removes his mask and it turns out to be the son of the family who lives in the house she was stealing from. Gotta love more fun times with lots of blonde-haired blue-eyed children getting mistaken for each other! We love confusing identities in this house!

Meanwhile, the Doctor, Rose, and Jack are going to the top floor of the hospital, which Dr. Constantine told the Doctor he should go to find more information before he succumbed to his "infection." There, they find a room with a busted out glass window and a tape recording setup.

*extremely loud cartoon blinking noises* are we seeing this shit??

I was especially raising my eyebrows about the "angry" bit, what with Brenner's whole deal in TFS getting Henry to become angry in order to trip him into using his powers. Not to mention the countless drawings, which are giving ST2 Will with his drawings of the tunnels, but then the absurd strength this child seemingly presented despite being, well, a child, vs Jim's jab at Henry in TFS about not having the "upper body strength" to cause the harm toward the local pets. They might not normally be physically capable, but they were infected with something that made them strong enough.

The Doctor starts playing the tapes in the room, and they hear recordings of Dr. Constantine talking to Jamie, trying to ask him questions, trying to discern if he's "present" or not, and only getting back, "Are you my mummy?" and "I want my mummy!" and other such iterations. Jamie at that point had been totally lost to whatever had infected him.

The Doctor starts thinking, saying that he can "feel/sense it" coming out of the walls of the room. He doesn't elaborate on what, it's just a feeling he picks up that neither Jack or Rose can sense (he blames this on them being inferior as humans lol).

Okay, so, fucking... again, raising my eyebrows about it being afraid, much like how the Shadow on TFS feeds off of fear and that's what makes it stronger. Not to mention the "power of a god" vs all of Vecna's God coding. Very happy these episodes gave me a reason to look again at one of my favorite James posts ever about this very topic. Which, like, sure, the Shadow/Mind Flayer and Vecna aren't one and the same, but, y'know, I'm connecting dots and having fun leave me alone.

Anyway, since the Doctor sent it to its room... and this is its room... well, yeah, Jamie shows up, and so using a fancy blaster that Jack has, they bust a hole in the wall to get out and then patch it back up, trapping Jamie in the room. However, he starts busting down the wall, ST1 Demogorgon-style, in order to get to them. The other patients begin coming for them as well, since Jamie's after them.

Meanwhile, Nancy is talking to some of the homeless kids, telling them that Jamie doesn't come after all of them, he only comes after her, so if they want to be safe, they can't be around her.

In that same scene, one of the kids is writing on a typewriter, which continues typing even after he gets off of it. When this is pointed out, and when they read what was written, it's just "Are you my mummy?" over and over again. Nancy tells them again that as long as they stay with her, Jamie will always be coming for them, and she leaves, intent on breaking into the crash site on her own to figure out what happened to Jamie.

Now, the Doctor, Rose, and Jack are stuck inside the hospital, trapped in a room with only one exit with dozens of infected patients on the other side intent on getting to them. Jack is able to teleport out to his ship and finds a way to speak to the Doctor and Rose via an "Om-Com," which means he can call anything with a speaker grill, which the Doctor realizes is what Jamie is doing as well. And, speak of the devil, Jamie pops up talking through the same radio that Jack is.

Jack manages to block out Jamie by playing "Moonlight Serenade" through the radio instead. Using music to protect them from the weird omnipresent dead-not-dead child? Okay! I guess! I'm going crazy.

Jack manages to then teleport Rose and the Doctor onto his ship after doing some meddling with his hardware, and now back together again, they ask him more about his conman status.

What if I just started eating glass and barbed wire for fun, huh? It really had to be two years, didn't it? Just like the discrepancies between Henry and Edward? Okay, yeah, sure, whatever, I guess !! For more information about that, check out this post by Em, there's a whole section detailing the year discrepancies shown to us in the ST newspapers that present this 2 year time difference (and take a gander at everything else he has there, it's well worth the read).

Meanwhile, Nancy has attempted to break into the crash site, but was detained by the guards who are protecting it. She gets handcuffed to a table beside a soldier who's clearly been infected, but nobody listens when she pleads to be kept away from him. She begins talking to him, saying she understands what's happening to him.

The Doctor, Rose, and Jack arrive at the crash site, where they learn that now the contaminant is airborne, and soon absolutely no one will be safe and the whole world will become infected, wiping out the human race. As the Doctor is explaining this, he interrupts himself by asking if anyone else can hear singing, and we then hear Nancy singing "Rock-a-bye Baby," which has put the infected soldier to sleep beside her. Love some more "music saves" (though this is merely because the lullaby put "Jamie" to sleep). The Doctor rescues her, and they all flee outside to examine the crashed object.

Here, the Doctor explains that this object actually wasn't empty like Jack said it was. Instead, it was filled with the same Nanogenes that were in Jack's spaceship that healed Rose, only because this is an ambulance, there were far more than they could imagine - specifically, enough to "rebuild a species." When the ship crashed, they all escaped. The first "living" thing they came across was a dead child - Jamie. Having never seen a human being before, these Nanogenes took Jamie as the blueprint for humankind. With him as the blueprint, every other human seems "wrong" to the Nanogenes.

While they're trying to sort out their next moves, the infected begin approaching the crash site due to an alarm on the ambulance being activated when they tried to open it. The Doctor explains that, because this is a battlefield ambulance, not only are the Nanogenes programmed to help heal wounds, but they're designed to make every living thing into a perfect soldier.

Also realizing I haven't mentioned this yet, but Chula is just an alien race or something. This ambulance is a Chula ship, as is the spaceship that Jack has in the episode.

Anyway, I told you that ST3 Billy screenshot would pay off. Now, they're sort of trapped here. They don't really know what to do, because this little boy is going to tear the world apart in order to find his mummy. Nancy pipes up then, saying that it's her fault this is happening.

Holy Mothergate. Do you ever just scream and cry and throw up? This was one of the other details I remembered about the episode, and it automatically had me thinking of the Alice/Virginia sister/mother swap that Em has talked about in posts like this one.

Nancy approaches Jamie, telling him that yes, she is his mummy, but he doesn't understand because "there's not enough of him left." However, Nancy apologizes to Jamie, saying she is and always will be his mummy, and hugs him. This causes the Nanogenes around them to activate, and while Rose thinks they're going to "change" Nancy, the Doctor stops her from interfering and instead begs the Nanogenes to figure it out. They should be able to read that Nancy and Jamie are related, and that her as the mother should be more than enough for them to get it right.

There is just so much happening here. Henry being the "parent" to the other lab kids, whether by actual blood relation or simply because his blood was used in transfusions to give the kids his same mutated blood, and that being a "superior" DNA type, which is also a word One uses during his monologue toward El.

And the constant use of the word "change" throughout the episode (this isn't the only instance it's used) as compared to Brenner Sr. and Henry said to have "changed" after their run-ins with Dimension X in TFS.

"Mother knows best" isn't something that comes up verbatim in TFS, but the actress who plays Virginia made a post on instagram with "a mother always knows" in the caption. Plus, matched with Virginia's whole thing about seemingly "knowing" what was going on with Henward, as per One's monologue in ST4, and being in cahoots with Brenner about getting him back into the lab in TFS... well, at least in these Doctor Who episodes, it's "mother knows best," but for good.

Anyway, the second episode wraps up with the Doctor sending out the Nanogenes to "fix" all of the people they infected the first time, thus bringing all of these "dead" people back to life. Again, they take the form of these light particles much like the light particles in the UD, which we still don't know the origins or purpose of, other than a means of communication across universes/timelines! Shrimpy!

One thing I really noticed, which is something that also came up in the last DW/ST comparison post I made, is this emphasis on identity. I just find it super interesting that in these episodes, which have lots of other parallels (especially stuff regarding the Shadow/MF), there's this emphasis on knowing who someone really is. In ST, this is something that's becoming more and more important, all the way from ST1 with stuff such as Will's body being a fake, up until ST4 with the uncertainty in the true identity of Vecna and One, and even Brenner.

Basically, I just think that all of these other parallels to the Shadow and the language used around it lend credence to the idea that this idea of mistaken identity and not knowing the full truth until the very end is something that is obviously going to come into play in a very overt way in ST5. Also time travel and alternate universes definitely exist in ST simply because of these connections to DW, and this isn't even getting into any DW episodes that are about alternate universes and changing timelines! Which I will hopefully be discussing sooner than later :]

[stephensmithuk]

The Sign of Four: The Strange Story of Jonathan Small (Part Two of Two)

CW for graphic discussion of war crimes.

Sepoy was a term, derived from the Persian sepāhī meaning "infantry soldier", that was used to refer to Indian soldiers, generally with muskets, in the Mughal Empire's armed forces and also Maratha Army. Europeans then used the term to refer to Indians in their colonial forces. One of the names of the rebellion was the Sepoy Mutiny.

Today, Sepoy is the equivalent of "Private" in the Indian and Pakistani armies.

Cawnpore, now Kanpur, was the scene of a siege of East India Company forces and associated civilians in 1857. The EIC surrendered in return for safe passage offered by Nana Sahib, leader of the rebellion on the area. Then, for unclear reason, the departing men, women and children were attacked - no definitive evidence that Sahib authorised this has been found. All the men were killed, with the surviving women and children taken to a villa called Bibighar. 22 days later, although some sepoys refused the order, they were nearly all massacred, with their naked bodies thrown down a well. The British arrived the next day to recapture the city and then carried out horrific summary justice against any rebels who could not prove their innocence. Space precludes me from covering it in depth.

Historically, treason, like the rajah has basically done, would result in Parliament passing an act of attainder, basically seizing your entire personal property plust titles without any judicial process. Not sure what the East India Company's rules were on that. The US constitution specifically bans Congress and the states from passing any bills of attainder.

I'd need to enquire about this, but EIC sepoys apparently swore loyalty to the salt they had eaten, hence the term "true to their salt".

A postern is a side entrance in a city or castle wall, usually concealed so it can be used for stealthy entrances and exits; it could also be used during a siege for the defenders to make an attack on their besiegers. The foundations of one from the London Wall can be seen next to the Tower of London.

A firelock is a musket where the powder is ignited by sparks, either from a lit match or friction from a piece of flint.

The wet season in India lasts from around June to September, when 80% of the annual rainfall occurs. This is vital for Indian agriculture and delays in it occuring can cause real problems. In any event, you get near-daily thunderstorms and torrential downpours. This can result in roads getting badly damaged and flooding in places with poor drainage. Bollywood is a particular fan of romantic scenes involving monsoons, because they allow for sexy wet people.

I believe a mound-heap is another term for midden, an outside dump for all sorts of domestic waste, ranging from broken pottery to animal bones to human waste. Archaelogists are particular fans of them as they provide evidence of past human habitation of a sight. Poor people in Victorian London would search through them for any items of value.

The British last executed someone by firing squad in 1941 when Josef Jakobs, a German NCO convicted of spying was shot at the Tower of London. Two American soldiers would be shot at Shepton Mallet in 1944 for murdering fellow soldiers.

Before the introduction of compulsory recording of police interviews in 1992, records of interviews were generally made from notes taken during the interview or even the officers' memory, with associated problems. The interviewee would then be asked to sign the official record, something frequently refused, especially if it looked like they were signing a confession. It was also pretty common for police to engage in "verballing" i.e. falsifying the record to make it appear there had been a confession.

"The first water" means the diamonds were of the highest quality, basically having the appearence of clear water.

Commutations of death sentences were in fact quite common, especially for lower-level offences. If you see "death recorded" in a trial transcript, it means that the judge had to pass the death sentence, but clearly intended for there to be a pardon or commutation. This often occurred for sodomy convictions.

Mount Harriet is a 383-metre high hill today called Mount Manipur.

A military officer who went bankrupt, especially for gambling debts, was going to lose his commission at best. Bankruptcy is still going to be a real concern in any armed forces today, especially for your security clearance.

It is around 375 miles as the metaphorical crow flies (crows are not sea birds) to Myanmar, then Burma and a British colony. The only place you could reasonably reach from Port Blair that was not under some form of British control was Siam (now Thailand), which remained independent throughout the imperial era, except when Japan invaded it in 1941.

Yawl has several definitions, including a sail layout commonly used for racing yachts in this period.

The belief that the Andaman indigenous people were cannibals appears to have come from the account of Marco Polo.

Hundreds of people tried to escape from the Andaman penal colony, including 288 of the initial 1858 arrivals, a third of those who survived the original journey. However, the thick jungle and "the murderous attacks of the savage aborigines", as military doctor and original governor James Pattison Walker put, led to 81 survivors limping back to Port Blair. They asked for mercy and medicine. Walker had them and seven other recaptured prisoners all hanged the same day. Many who got off the island likely drowned.

Two prisoners in 1872 managed to get all the way to London, after convincing a British vessel they were shipwrecked fishermen. However, the manager of the Strangers Home for Asiatics in London where they ended up got suspicious, took photographs of them and sent them around the empire. That led to their recapture.

The calabash fruit, also known as the gourd, can be turned into bowls or other containers. Gourd is also a slang term for "mind".

The pilgrims sailing from Singapore to Jiddah (or more usually Jeddah) would likely have been heading for Mecca to take part in the hajj. This a pilgrimage considered one of the five pillars of Islam and mandatory at least once in a lifetime for any Muslim with the physical and financial ability to do it. Modern travel has made this a lot less hazardous - past pilgrims faced dangers including piracy, with even some of the Caribbean pirates sailing around Africa to attack ships for the treasures that might be going with them. At least until they reach Mecca, when everyone dresses in the same simple clothing.

At the time of this story, Jeddah, Mecca and Medina were in the Vilayet of the Hejaz, a province of the Ottoman Empire.

The 1445/2024 Hajj, ongoing as I post this, has attracted 1.833 million pilgrims. These numbers have caused stampedes and spread of disease; this year has also seen deaths due to heat stroke in 48 degrees Celsius temperatures. The Saudi authorities have taken various measures to improve safety, including registration requirements and improvements to the site layout provide escape routes.

From Jeddah (and other places in the region), pilgrims would historically travel to Mecca in large camel caravans with military escort as protection against bandit attacks. Today, Jeddah is home to the biggest airport in Saudi Arabia with a dedicated and distinctive terminal for the pilgrimage, as the vast majority of pilgrims arrive via air today. From there, modern roads and a new high-speed railway provide easy access to the holy sites.

Performing in "freak shows" was one of the few ways that severely disabled people could earn a living in these period - it was often that, begging or the workhouse; Joseph Merrick could not hold down any other employment because of his appearance. People with microcephaly i.e. a smaller than usual head were passed off as "missing links". However, by 1888, public opinion was turning against such acts.

[ilerre]

Chapter 1: There seemed to be no resolution possible between Charlie and Lorenzo. Chapter 2: Max has a strong opinion about Dany's choice in girlfriends. Chapter 3: In their house, there is a dedicated room for gaming. And trophies. Chapter 4: Max, Charlie and Milo visit universities. Chapter 5: Milo wants to know why Charlie doesn't speak with Lorenzo and Arthur. Chapter 6: Max and Charlie get married. Chapter 7: Milo asks Max about Sebastian Vettel. Chapter 8: Max and Charlie visit Léo. Chapter 9: Kelly asks to meet with Max. Chapter 10: Max is streaming and Charlie joins him. Chapter 11: Milo learns to drive. Chapter 12: Charlie is embarassed. Chapter 13: Charlie doesn't know how to park. Chapter 14: Fred is bored in retirement. Chapter 15: Max is sick and Charlie takes care of him. Chapter 16: Max and Charlie attend a RBR reunion. Chapter 17: Max decides Milo's fifth birthday has to be memorable. Chapter 18: Max will never like Lorenzo. Chapter 19: Charlie needs surgery. Chapter 20: Charlie is exhausted. Chapter 21: After giving birth, before going to Serbia, Charlie went to Switzerland. Chapter 22: Max and Milo have a conversation about one of Max's old interview. Chapter 23: Max, Charlie and Milo go yachting with their friends. Chapter 24: Max lost his wedding ring. Milo is no help. Chapter 25: Max and Charlie meet Milo's new girlfriend. Chapter 26: George decides to revive the 'Operation Wooing Charlie' group. Chapter 27: Milo meets Sebastian. Chapter 28: Charlie tells Carlos about Sebastian. Chapter 29: Charlie wins Monza. Chapter 30: "Searching my family tree to find any trace of Monégasque roots." Chapter 31: Le Trophée des Légendes. Chapter 32: Max is feeling a bit self-conscious about his body. Chapter 33: Social Media. Chapter 34: Arthur stops paying rent. Chapter 35: Max needs surgery. Chapter 36: Max thinks. Chapter 37: Arthur's behavior has dire consequences. Chapter 38: Milo is sick. Chapter 39: Max and Charlie visit Lewis in London. Chapter 40: Charlie is interviewed by Forbes. Chapter 41: Max asks questions about Charlie's pregnancy. Chapter 42: Ferrari asks Charlie for a favor. Chapter 43: Two Ferrari drivers have a fight. Chapter 44: Lorenzo gives an update on Ivy. Chapter 45: Max and Charlie are on holidays. Chapter 46: Milo might have found his Charlie. NEW Chapter 47: Max and Charlie buy properties in London. NEW

[properlyhome]

How to Find Your Dream Home with a Property Search Agent in London

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[english-history-trip]

Valuable works of art steeped in history are often hung in pride of place above a mantlepiece or on the walls of a grand entrance hall. But not so this 400-year-old hidden treasure, which spent decades out of sight, behind the door of a Surrey cottage, before being stumbled upon by an antiques expert during a house clearance of a late collector. 

...

Chris Kirkham, associate director at Hansons London spotted the painting while visiting the property, which was owned by a man, who has not been named, who collected paintings as a hobby. Kirkham commented that he ‘was surprised to find such a compelling portrait hidden away.’ 

He explained that the painting was likely to have been influenced by the Baroque artists Van Dyck and Reubens. Bearing the name Adriaen Verkins, possibly Dutch, the painting is dated 1626, when Charles I (1600-1649) was king of England, Scotland and Ireland. He lavished money on the arts and invited artists such as Van Dyck and Rubens to work in England.

(Note on the article: The subject of the painting is said to be a girl, and the name in the corner the artist's. However, the title reads "Adrian Verkins at age 1"; the sitter is presumably a little boy named Adrian. A quick internet search shows the grave of an Adrian Verkins in the Netherlands from 1704.)

[ukrfeminism]

Sadiq Khan says the brutal London murders of four women in three weeks is “absolutely heartbreaking” and vowed to tackle violent crime if given a historic third term.

Police found Kamonnan Thiamphanit, 27, stabbed to death at a £4 million Grade II-listed property on Stanhope Place, Bayswater near Hyde Park around 8.30am on Monday.

Neighbours heard sounds of a loud party on Saturday night at the home being rented out as an Airbnb holiday let, followed by two high-pitched screams the following day. 

The Metropolitan Police search for Thiamphanit’s killer continues. 

Last Saturday, Kennedi Westcarr-Sabaroche, 25, was discovered dead in a Vauxhall car in Hackney.

The dismembered torso of Sarah Mayhew, 38, was dumped in a Croydon park on April 2.

Goldsmiths College student Zhe Wang, 31, was fatally stabbed in Hither Green, Lewisham on March 20. 

A spokesman for the London mayor said: “These murders are absolutely heartbreaking and Sadiq’s thoughts remain with their loved ones at this unimaginably awful time. 

“Tackling violence against women and girls is an absolute top priority and that’s why he’s investing in policing and prevention, tackling the causes of these horrific crimes.”

A source close to him added: “The Tory government has imposed £1billion cuts on the Met with a devastating impact on the services that keep women safe. 

“By contrast, Sadiq has invested a record £163m on tacking violence against women and girls in London.”

Susan Hall, Mr Khan’s Conservative opponent at the mayoral elections on May 2, said: “My thoughts are with the friends and family of the four women who have been murdered in recent weeks. 

“It is truly shocking and heartbreaking. 

“Everyone in our city deserves to feel safe, and to be safe, and I am determined to do all I can to reduce crime and make London safer for women.”

Lib-Dem Rob Blackie, another frontrunner, claimed there had been a “failure to tackle violence against women and girls under Sadiq Khan”.

He said: “Clear-up rates for rape and sexual assault have halved since he became mayor. And that is really because there hasn’t been any political attention to the problem.

“Police need the right IT and equipment. We have lost many cases due to freezers used to keep forensic evidence not being up to standard. Very often the same man will commit crimes again and again if you don’t catch them the first time. 

“My top priority would be to get more money into the Met by abolishing Khan’s phoney Tube fares freeze. That would put more officers on the front line. We have 6,000 police stuck in back offices, double the number of any force in Britain.” 

Commander Owain Richards said in Ms Thiamphanit’s killing there had been no signs of forced entry to the three-storey, five-bedroom terraced house. 

Mr Richards added: “We believe the suspect was known to the victim in this case and our homicide detectives are working around the clock to pursue all lines of inquiry to trace the suspect, arrest them and bring them to justice.

“This terrible incident follows a number of other horrific fatal attacks on women recently – including those in Croydon, Hackney and Lewisham.

“We recently shared information about the work we’re doing to tackle violence against women and girls using data-led tactics to target dangerous offenders and bring them to justice.

“Kamonnan’s murder makes us all the more determined in our efforts to do everything we possibly can to keep women and girls safe.”

The Metropolitan Police has referred itself to the Independent Office for Police Conduct watchdog over the incident.

Police were contacted twice on Sunday by a friend concerned about her welfare, but officers attended over 13 hours later.

Pacharapol Padermprach, press secretary of the Royal Thai Embassy in London, told the Standard his community is “shocked and saddened”, adding: “We have been in close contact with the Metropolitan Police on this case and in informing Ms Thiamphanit’s family. 

“We are confident that the Met will do its best to bring those responsible to justice. 

“Due to the ongoing investigation, we are unable to provide any further information.”

[anonymoushouseplantfan]

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NONFICTION

Another Battle Royale in the Windsor War

In “Endgame,” Harry and Meghan’s sympathetic biographer, Omid Scobie, takes on the in-laws — and takes no prisoners.

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The Windsors gather on a red, draped balcony, looking upward. From left: Prince Charles in military regalia, Prince Andrew, Camilla the Duchess of Cornwall in a white dress and hat, Queen Elizabeth II in a blue dress and hat, Meghan the Duchess of Sussex in a black dress and fascinator, Prince Harry in military uniform, Prince William in military uniform and Catherine, the Duchess of Cambridge, in a pale-blue dress and pillbox hat.

In Queen Elizabeth II’s lifetime, writes Omid Scobie, the public tolerated a hereditary monarchy. But without her steadying presence, is the Firm in free fall? Credit...Matt Dunham/Associated Press

By Eva Wolchover

Eva Wolchover is a writer and co-host of the podcast “Windsors & Losers.”

Nov. 26, 2023, 5:00 a.m. ET

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ENDGAME: Inside the Royal Family and the Monarchy’s Fight for Survival, by Omid Scobie

Early on in “Endgame,” the journalist and royal commentator Omid Scobie makes an enticing promise.

“In the past I, like others, have held back on revealing some of the darker truths at the heart of the institution of the British monarchy,” he writes. “Part of this book will burn my bridges for good. But to tell the full story, there’s no holding back. Not anymore. We’re in the endgame.”

However, readers hoping for a final death blow of gossip will be disappointed. We’ve heard much of it before. From Fergie, from Diana, from Charles, from Harry, from Harry, from Harry again.

Image

The cover of “Endgame” has a band of three photos running across the bottom: one of the Prince and Princess of Wales; one of King Charles and Queen Camilla; and one of the Duke and Duchess of Sussex.

The London-based Scobie’s 2020 book, “Finding Freedom: Harry and Meghan and the Making of a Modern Royal Family” (written with Carolyn Durand), gave a sympathetic account of the couple’s exodus from Windsor, earning him the title of Sussex “mouthpiece.” It’s a term he vociferously rejects (although it was later confirmed that Meghan had given an aide permission to brief Scobie and Durand for their book).

Here Scobie picks up with the death of Queen Elizabeth II, questioning whether her hapless eldest son and his heirs have what it takes to run the family business. His book presents a critical view of palace machinations and the central players involved, and reflects on whether the monarchy should consider “standing back and watching the curtain slowly close” on a thousand years of British history.

The British Royal Family

The ‘King’s Speech’: King Charles III opened a session of Parliament for the first time as monarch, outlining the British government’s legislative priorities — including some policies likely to be at odds with his personal views.

Britain’s Most Famous Landlord: Rents in the United Kingdom are rising at a record pace, a trend that helped King Charles III, the owner of a vast property empire, make a big payday.

Swelling Expenses: A report on the royal family’s finances shows that the king had to dip into reserves to pay for official expenses amid rising costs and expensive events like the queen’s funeral.

“Tone-deaf, racist and financially reckless” are three charges hurled at the monarchy, “but when Queen Elizabeth II was at the helm she managed to keep much of it at bay,” he writes.

Over the course of her umpteen-year reign the queen earned a certain amount of good will for herself and “the Institution,” largely because her silence and inscrutability read as comparatively dignified.

With the dawn of the “Carolean Era” upon us (which, in the case of King Charles, may also well be its twilight), Scobie warns the Windsors must get a grip or face extinction in a Britain that’s at best apathetic and at worst offended by the notion of inherited power. Scobie cites falling approval ratings (down to 47 percent after the publication of Prince Harry’s “Spare”) and a smattering of protesters waving “Not My King” signs at Charles’s public engagements.

Sure, but cast our minds back to the time Charles was secretly recorded talking about becoming Camilla’s tampon (which Scobie somehow manages to resist bringing up for the first five pages of the book), or the aftermath of Diana’s death, and it’s hard not to find Scobie’s dire predictions a tad hyperbolic. These days, warts-and-all tell-alls seem to be as integral to the Windsor brand as weddings, jubilees and blockbuster funerals.

And Scobie’s take is not all that different from what Harry presented in “Spare,” or what Charles gave us 30-odd years ago in his own authorized, and interminable, tale of woe, “The Prince of Wales: A Biography.”

The new king comes in for a walloping here. As Scobie tells it, Charles is “often envious” of his sons’ popularity, and lets his own petty jealousies get in the way of harnessing star power when it presents itself: “His ineptitude surrounding the Harry and Meghan saga has effectively turned the couple into the disrupters they were feared to become in the first place.”

Then there’s the issue of race and “unconscious bias,” to use a careful phraseology borrowed from Harry. Here, Scobie sees an obvious opportunity for growth and cultural leadership. And yet, the royal family’s approach? “Myopic at best, willfully ignoring the issue at worst.”

Anyone with even a passing interest in the Windsor palaver will be familiar with Scobie’s descriptions of the Firm’s mutually parasitic dealings with the press. It’s a system in which courtiers big up their royal bosses by briefing, leaking and anonymously sourcing against one another in the pursuit of public favor. Father against son, brother against brother, duchess against duchess.

The book picks up pace when Scobie engages in the kind of tabloid fodder he makes us feel guilty for wanting, such as Prince William’s rumored affair with the Marchioness of Cholmondeley (a rumor he doesn’t do much to dispel).

Scobie reveals that a Kensington Palace aide tried to enlist his help in diverting The Sun newspaper away from the affair by offering up excerpts from “Finding Freedom.” “I had zero interest in collaborating with the tabloid,” Scobie writes.

Much of Scobie’s new book is devoted to setting the record straight on petty slights against the Sussexes: exactly who made whom cry at a dress fitting; the double standards applied to royal bridezillas brandishing air freshener. Let the record show that “when Kate filled Westminster Abbey with Jo Malone for her wedding, it was ‘sweet.’”

Speaking of Kate, she didn’t fare well in “Finding Freedom,” and neither does she here. Scobie obliquely accuses the princess — presented as cold and lacking in self-assurance — of copying Meghan’s effortless dress sense. And he notes that Kate’s Hold Still lockdown photo project is “reminiscent” of Meghan’s 2018 “Together” cookbook, a project she did with survivors of the Grenfell fire. The tabloids have rightfully been accused of pitching one royal bride against another, and so it jars when Scobie, whose tone throughout is one of moral high ground, employs a similar tactic.

He does, however, give Kate (who, Scobie notes, does actually like that nickname) credit for finally relaxing into her role. After all, he knows there’s a genuine Kate there because he once witnessed her descend “into a fit of muted giggles” at the sight of a rhino pooping while on a “mini-safari” in India. Hard to say if this is a feeble attempt at humanization or a skilled way of letting us know that he, Scobie, was the only reporter invited along.

Whether or not Scobie actively collaborated with Meghan and Harry for this book, he does them no favors. Their chapter reads like a press release cooked up by ChatGPT, and does little to shed light on them as humans. He says the couple — who used to focus on coverage of themselves — now remain blissfully unconcerned. Harry’s next chapter will focus, among other things, on philanthropic efforts in the “military space,” while Meghan (and here Scobie quotes an unnamed source) is “building ‘something more accessible … something rooted in her love of details, curating, hosting, life’s simple pleasures, and family.’”

Scobie defines the term “endgame” as “the final stages of a chess game after most of the pieces have been removed from the board.” Unless Charles and his heirs act quickly, Scobie underscores, they risk losing the crown, or at the very least, any remaining cultural relevance. But there’s a paradox here: As long as people are buying books like Scobie’s, they’re buying the whole lousy operation.

ENDGAME: Inside the Royal Family and the Monarchy’s Fight for Survival | By Omid Scobie | Dey Street | 403 pp. | $32

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[scotianostra]

23rd February 1716 saw Lady Winifred Maxwell, Countess of Nithsdale, help her husband William escape from the Tower of London.

This is a great tale of a brave woman putting her own life on the line to help her husband escape.

Winifred Herbert was the daughter of William Herbert, 1st Marquess of Powis. Her parents accompanied James VII into exile in 1688 and her mother became governess of the young James Francis Edward Stuart, later to be known as the "Old Pretender". Winifred herself became a lady-in-waiting at the Jacobite Royal Court. On 2 March 1699, at the age of 27, she married William Maxwell, 5th Earl of Nithsdale, a member of a Scottish Catholic family.

The family returned home to Scotland in 1699 an settled back into life at their home at Terregles Castle near Dumfries. Maxwell worked hard to dispel suspicions of him in Scotland because of his Catholicism and his links with the Jacobites. However, he did come out in support of the Jacobites in the 1715 Uprising, and joined with the Northumbrian Jacobites under General Thomas Forster at Hexham. He was captured with other Jacobites at Preston and sent to the Tower of London. He was subsequently found guilt of treason the sentence was death and was to be carried out on February 24th 1716.

Winifred travelled to London to ask George I for clemency, but none was forthcoming. On the night of 23 February, the eve of the date set for her husband's execution, Winifred her maid, and two friends visited William at the Tower of London. Winifred distributed a generous amount of drinking money to the guards, and the women proceeded to come and go from William's cell, mingling with the wives of the guards and generally raising confusion about who was in the cell and who was not. Meanwhile, Winifred shaved William's beard and dressed him in spare women's clothing brought in for the purpose, including what has since become known as the "Nithsdale Cloak". William was then led from the Tower disguised as a woman by Winifred's maid, Evans, while Winifred herself covered the escape by carrying on a loud conversation with her - now departed - husband in an otherwise empty cell, before making good her own escape.

Winifred and William hid in London until he could be smuggled to France disguised as a servant of the Venetian Ambassador. Winifred herself then rode to Traquair House in Scotland to retrieve a number of family papers and arrange for their property to be cared for. She then, despite a huge search for her and her husband, returned to London, and traveled to the Continent. She eventually rejoined her husband at the exiled court of James Francis Edward Stuart in Rome. Winifred later became governess to Henry Benedict Stuart, the younger brother of Bonnie Prince Charlie