#skip hire London

[rmsskip]

Optimising Skip Hire in London: Tips for Efficient Loading and Placement

As the city’s population experiences exponential growth, efficient waste disposal becomes increasingly critical. Hiring skip services has become integral to waste management solutions in London.

These services offer a convenient and eco-friendly way to manage various types of waste generated by residential, commercial, and construction activities.

This blog uncovers skip hire services in London, and tips for optimising skip hire through efficient loading and strategic placement.

Optimisation, Cost-effectiveness and the Environment

Optimising skip hire is not just about getting rid of waste. It’s a proactive approach that benefits businesses and the environment.

By efficiently managing waste disposal, Individuals and companies can reduce costs spent on unnecessary trips to landfill sites.

Renting a skip that is too large for your needs would mean paying for unused capacity.

London’s commitment to sustainability makes it essential for residents and businesses to adopt eco-friendly practices.

By using skip hire services effectively, you can contribute to reduced landfill waste and increased recycling.

Understanding Skip Types, Sizes, and Your Needs

It’s essential to be familiar with the various skip types and sizes available, as well as how to assess your specific waste management requirements.

Different Skip Types and Sizes

Skip hire companies in London offer a range of skip types and sizes to accommodate different types of waste and quantities. The most familiar skip types include:

Mini Skips: Compact and suitable for small household projects, garden clean-ups, or DIY tasks. Mini skips typically have a capacity of 2 to 3 cubic yards.

Midi Skips: Slightly larger than mini skips, midi skips are ideal for disposing of moderate amounts of waste from kitchen or bathroom renovations. They usually have a capacity of 4 to 6 cubic yards.

Builder’s Skips: Also known as a “6-yard skip,” builder’s skips are commonly used in construction and renovation projects to handle heavier materials like concrete, bricks, and soil.

Maxi Skips: Larger than builder’s skips, maxi skips have a capacity of 12 to 16 cubic yards, making them suitable for substantial waste disposal needs, such as clearing out large properties or commercial premises.

Roll-on Roll-off (RORO) Skips: These are available in much larger sizes, ranging from 20 to 40 cubic yards, and are commonly used in industrial settings or for extensive construction projects.

Assessing Your Waste Management Requirements

Before hiring a skip, an accurate assessment of your waste management requirements is crucial. Different skips are designed to handle specific types of waste.

Determine whether your waste will primarily consist of household waste, construction debris, garden waste, or a combination of materials.

Try to gauge the approximate amount of waste you’ll generate. Also, check the available space at your location for skip placement.

Efficient Skip Placement and Loading Techniques

Proper skip placement and effective loading techniques are critical for optimising skip hire services in London.

By strategically positioning the skip and maximising its capacity, you can ensure smooth waste disposal, enhance safety, and minimise costs.

Planning Skip Placement for Accessibility and Safety

You can make the most of its capacity by strategically positioning the skip. Also, it ensures smooth waste disposal, enhances security, and minimises costs.

Select a location that allows easy access for both the delivery and collection of the skip.

Check for overhead obstacles, such as tree branches or utility lines, that could hinder the skip’s placement.

Inquire about local skip permit requirements and regulations. Obtain the appropriate permits in advance to avoid delays or legal issues.

Avoid placing the skip on public roads or pavements unless authorised, as this may lead to fines or penalties.

Place clear and visible safety signage around the skip to alert passersby and site workers to its presence and potential hazards.

Tips for Maximising Skip Space and Compacting Waste

Effectively loading the skip is vital to optimise its capacity and reduce the required collections.

Disassemble large and bulky items to maximise space. For instance, break furniture into smaller pieces or cut branches and wooden materials into manageable lengths.

Flatten cardboard boxes to create more room within the skip. This allows you to fit in more waste efficiently.

Place heavier materials at the bottom of the skip to create a stable base. Lighter fabrics can be placed on top to fill gaps and prevent voids.

Resist the temptation to overfill the skip beyond its capacity.

Spread waste evenly throughout the skip to ensure balanced weight distribution.

Responsible Waste Management and Recycling

Responsible waste management and recycling are integral components of efficient skip-hire services in London.

Importance of waste segregation for recycling

Waste segregation involves systematically separating different types of waste materials at the source.

This practice is crucial for recycling efforts and contributes to reducing the environmental impact of waste disposal.

Recyclable materials like paper, cardboard, plastics, glass, and metal can be easily identified and collected for recycling by segregating waste at the point of generation.

Proper waste segregation minimises the amount of non-recyclable and non-biodegradable waste sent to landfills.

Recycling reduces greenhouse gas emissions and energy consumption associated with the extraction and production of raw materials.

Complying with Waste Disposal Regulations

Responsible waste management involves compliance with waste disposal regulations set by local and national authorities.

Failure to comply with waste disposal regulations can result in penalties, fines, or legal action.

Proper disposal and handling of waste are crucial to prevent environmental pollution and negative impacts on ecosystems.

For businesses, complying with waste disposal regulations showcases their commitment to corporate social responsibility.

Conclusion

Efficient skip hire and responsible waste management practices will help London achieve a more sustainable future.

Familiarise yourself with the different skip types and sizes available, and assess your waste management needs to choose the most suitable skip for your project.

Plan skip placement for accessibility and safety, and employ effective loading techniques to maximise space while compacting waste efficiently.

By optimising skip-hire services and prioritising recycling efforts, we can collectively work towards preserving the environment and positively impacting the world around us.

Let us take responsibility for our waste and play our part in creating a cleaner and more sustainable city for generations to come.

[skip-hire-njb-recycling]

Future Trends in Skip Hire in London: What to Expect

[anythingeverything0000]

Top 10 Creative Ways to Repurpose Waste from Domestic Skips

Introduction: Changing the narrative on waste disposal

In a world where the impact of human activity on the environment is becoming increasingly evident, the narrative on waste disposal is ripe for change. As we navigate through a time of heightened environmental consciousness, it's crucial to reevaluate our approach to waste management and disposal. In this article, we will delve into the evolving landscape of waste disposal services and explore how Waste Disposal Service Companies are revolutionizing traditional methods with innovative solutions.

Gone are the days when waste disposal was viewed as simply discarding unwanted items; today, it's about embracing sustainability and environmental responsibility. The emergence of Waste Disposal Service Companies signals a shift towards more efficient and eco-friendly practices, challenging conventional notions of waste as mere garbage. Join us as we unravel the transformative journey towards sustainable waste management and discover how these companies are leading the charge in reshaping our relationship with waste.

Upcycling old furniture and appliances

With the increasing focus on sustainability and reducing waste, upcycling old furniture and appliances has become a trend that not only benefits the environment but also allows individuals to unleash their creativity. Instead of sending old items to landfills, many are now repurposing them in innovative ways. From turning an old dresser into a stylish outdoor garden planter to transforming an outdated refrigerator into a funky storage cabinet, the possibilities are endless.

One interesting approach is partnering with a domestic skip hire company for larger upcycling projects. By utilizing their services to responsibly dispose of any unusable parts and materials from old furniture and appliances, you can ensure that your upcycling efforts are environmentally friendly. This collaboration not only promotes sustainable practices but also provides access to valuable resources for inspiration and guidance on how to best repurpose different types of items.

By embracing the art of upcycling, we can divert significant amounts of waste from landfills while creating unique and functional pieces for our homes. Whether it’s refurbishing an old desk with a fresh coat of paint or dismantling an obsolete washing machine for its metal components, there's something deeply satisfying about breathing new life into forgotten objects. With the help of a domestic skip hire company and a dash of creativity, anyone can embark on this rewarding journey towards environmental consciousness and artistic expression.

Crafting with reclaimed materials

Crafting with reclaimed materials offers a unique opportunity to not only express creativity but also contribute to environmental sustainability. By tapping into cheap domestic skip hire services, crafters can easily access a wide array of discarded items that can be repurposed into beautiful and functional creations. From old wood pallets to discarded fabric and glass bottles, the possibilities for crafting with reclaimed materials are endless.

One fresh perspective on crafting with reclaimed materials is the idea of embracing imperfections. Rather than seeking out pristine materials, embracing the wear and tear of reclaimed items adds character and depth to the final piece. Additionally, by utilizing discarded materials, crafters can take pride in creating something new and valuable from objects that would have otherwise ended up in a landfill.

Furthermore, crafting with reclaimed materials fosters a sense of resourcefulness and ingenuity. It challenges crafters to think outside the box and find innovative ways to transform seemingly worthless items into treasures. This not only hones creative skills but also encourages a mindset of sustainable living and conscious consumption. Overall, crafting with reclaimed materials offers an inspiring avenue for self-expression while making a positive impact on the environment.

Composting organic waste for gardening

Composting organic waste for gardening is a sustainable and cost-effective way to enrich the soil and reduce household waste. Instead of disposing of kitchen scraps and yard clippings in landfills, these materials can be recycled into nutrient-rich compost that boosts plant growth. While many people are aware of the environmental benefits of composting, it's essential to highlight its role in creating healthy, flourishing gardens.

What sets composting apart as a gardening practice is the way it fosters a self-sufficient ecosystem within one's own backyard. By utilizing kitchen waste and garden trimmings to create homemade compost, gardeners can cultivate their own source of natural fertilizer without relying on synthetic products or external resources. This not only reduces the carbon footprint but also empowers individuals to take control of their gardening process. Furthermore, incorporating compost into the soil enhances its structure, promotes microbial activity, and improves water retention - all vital elements for cultivating thriving plants.

In partnership with No. 1 domestic skip hire company, homeowners interested in starting their composting journey can easily access skip bins tailored for organic waste disposal. This collaboration supports environmentally-conscious practices by ensuring organic materials are appropriately managed and transformed into valuable resources for sustainable gardening initiatives.

Using glass and plastic for DIY projects

When it comes to DIY projects, the use of glass and plastic materials can open up a world of creative possibilities. Glass jars, bottles, and containers can be repurposed into charming vases, candle holders, or even terrariums. Their transparency and elegant appearance bring a touch of sophistication to any home decor project. On the other hand, plastic bottles and containers are incredibly versatile for creating storage solutions, organizers, or even outdoor furniture.

One way to source these materials for your DIY endeavors is through the best domestic skip hire service in your area. Many skip hire companies often collect glass and plastic waste separately for recycling purposes. By connecting with these services, you not only gain access to a range of reusable materials but also contribute to sustainable waste management practices. Embracing glass and plastic in your DIY projects not only adds uniqueness but also promotes eco-friendly living by giving new life to discarded items.

So whether you're looking to craft personalized gifts or revamp your living space on a budget, consider incorporating glass and plastic into your next DIY ventures with inspiration from the best domestic skip hire service near you.

Transforming metal scraps into art

Transforming metal scraps into art is a captivating process that takes something discarded and forgotten and turns it into something beautiful and meaningful. Artists who specialize in working with metal scraps possess an extraordinary ability to see the potential in what others might consider waste. From old car parts to discarded appliances, these materials are brought back to life through the creative vision of skilled artisans.

What's fascinating about transforming metal scraps into art is the endless possibilities it presents. These artists use their imagination and technical skills to shape and mold the raw materials into stunning sculptures, intricate jewelry, and functional pieces of decor. Beyond just creating visually appealing works, this process also brings attention to issues of recycling and waste management, highlighting the potential for perfect domestic waste clearance.

The act of transforming metal scraps into art is not only visually stimulating but also serves as a powerful reminder of the value that can be found in overlooked materials. As society continues to grapple with environmental concerns, this form of artistic expression provides unique insight into how everyday items can be repurposed and given new life. Through their work, these artists inspire others to reconsider what they discard, igniting a greater appreciation for resourcefulness and creativity in perfect domestic waste clearance.

Repurposing cardboard and paper creatively

Repurposing cardboard and paper creatively can not only help reduce environmental waste but also inspire a newfound appreciation for everyday materials. Utilizing old cardboard boxes to create innovative storage solutions, such as magazine holders or desk organizers, adds a personal touch to home organization while reducing the need for store-bought items. Additionally, transforming scrap paper into unique handmade greeting cards or intricate papier-mâché sculptures infuses artistry into otherwise disposable materials. This approach does more than simply repurpose waste; it encourages individuals to see potential where others see only trash.

When considering quick domestic waste removal, repurposing cardboard and paper creatively offers an effective solution that goes beyond merely discarding these items in the recycling bin. By utilizing these materials in inventive ways, households can significantly decrease their overall volume of waste while simultaneously enhancing their living spaces. Shifting the focus from consumption to creativity not only reduces the environmental impact of excessive paper and cardboard use but also fosters a sense of resourcefulness and ingenuity within our daily lives. Embracing this mindset can lead to a more sustainable lifestyle that values innovation over disposability.

In conclusion, the creative repurposing of cardboard and paper provides an opportunity to rethink our conventional perception of waste while simultaneously minimizing our ecological footprint. Integrating this practice into quick domestic waste removal strategies empowers individuals to actively participate in environmentally conscious behaviors while nurturing their creativity. By tapping into untapped potential within seemingly mundane materials, we unlock new possibilities for self-expression and resource management that benefit both individual households and the planet as a whole.

Conclusion: Embracing sustainability through creative repurposing

In conclusion, embracing sustainability through creative repurposing holds the key to addressing the growing concern of domestic waste accumulation. By transforming everyday household items into new and functional pieces, we not only reduce our environmental impact but also encourage a more conscious and mindful approach to consumption. This shift towards repurposing can lead to a significant reduction in the need for quick domestic waste removal services, as fewer items are discarded and more are given new life through creative adaptation.

Furthermore, embracing sustainability through repurposing allows for the preservation of resources and serves as a tangible way for individuals to contribute to a healthier planet. It fosters a sense of ingenuity and resourcefulness, challenging us to see potential where others see disposability. As we continue on this journey towards greater sustainability, it's important to celebrate and promote these acts of creativity – they not only inspire others but also have the power to spark meaningful change in how we view and interact with the world around us. Embracing sustainability through creative repurposing is not just an alternative way of living; rather, it's a transformative mindset that has the potential to reshape our relationship with consumption and waste management.

[whorekneecentral]

Come Home

Dominik Szoboszlai x Fem!Reader

Warnings: separated for the holidays, staying up late, waking up your partner for a selfish needs, phone sex, dialogue heavy, masturbation (self - fem and male), mutual orgasm, some scandalous things that on both ends, dom!reader for a second there, lots of pet names.

Word Count: 1,573

Author's Note: okay this is my first full fic for dom, I had only written like 2 blurbs or him prior so hopefully it's okay <3

merry smutmas series

--

The two of you are separated over the holidays and you’re missing each other a little too much to keep this going. 

London was rather cold this time of the year, not quite as cold as Germany, but still cold.

In your boyfriend's recent move to Liverpool, you had joined him, which meant a new apartment, a new city and a new job. Your family was originally from London, so it wasn't much of a difference that you had moved back but Dominik's family was not.

Your boyfriend have gone home to Hungary to see his family for the holidays, and while you wish you had been able to join him, you were stuck doing last-minute work as everyone else had booked the holidays off and you were one of the last hires - automatic grounds for you having to stay in doing the grunt work.

It wasn't so bad seeing that the time difference between Hungary and London was only an hour. Dom had always been an early sleeper, so when you got home nearing midnight and you finally settled into bed at some point after that.

You couldn't help but text him anyways.

To Dom: hi my love 

It was 2am for you and you couldn’t sleep but you figured Dom would be sleeping. Hence your surprise when he answered. 

From Dom: hi baby 

To Dom: you’re awake? Shocking. 

From Dom: barely, I heard the phone buzz. are you okay? 

To Dom: yeah, just couldn’t sleep. 

It takes him a minute to answer, you figured he might have fallen asleep.  You send another message, it’s selfish when you know the noise will wake up - he had always been a light sleeper - but you missed him. 

To Dom: I miss you. 

From Dom: I miss you more. 

To Dom: that’s cheesy. don’t one up me, dom. 

From Dom: only you’d think that. 

To Dom: can I call you? Just for a minute? I wanna hear your voice. 

From Dom: of course babe 

The phone rings quietly, resting on the pillow next to your ear as you wait for your boyfriend to pick up. You hear the click of the line, "hi love," he whispers, the sleep evident in his voice.

You feel a bit bad for waking him up but you were but a woman and selfish one at that.

"Hi Dom," you whisper back, "I miss you."

"I miss you too, darling."

You sighed, your hand stretched over the empty half of the bed - his half of the bed. "It's hard to sleep without you, I'm so used to you suffocating me."

It was no secret that Dom was affectionate, even in his sleep. The man clung to your side and at first, you hated it and his furnace like body but you had gotten used to it after a few days. As much as you complained, you found it hard to sleep without him now.

Dominik smiles, a soft chuckle slipping past his lips. "I wish I could be there too but I doubt you'd be sleeping if I was there, my love."

"Yeah?" You find yourself smiling, Dom had no idea what he was opening up by saying that. "What would we be doing instead?"

"Well," he whispers, it sounds like he's shifting on his end. "Perhaps what you had on would end up on the floor.. or maybe my hands would slip under it, touching everywhere you want me too."

"And where would that be?"

Dom hums, taking a moment to think. "Your tits, or maybe I'd drag a finger down your stomach to your hips, biting that sensitive little spot by your upper thigh? Maybe I'll skip all of that and bury my face in your cunt, what do you think?"

He can hear the way your breath hitches, the man smiles to himself.

You clear your throat, "y-yeah.. that sounds like a good plan."

"Which part, darling?"

"Uh-"

"Use your words, princess. C'mon."

"All of it," you whispered, the man smiling. Dom glances down at the scene before his waist; his hand wrapped around his cock, imagining all the filthy things he could be doing to you if only you were there.

"Dom?" You called out to him, "you still there?"

He lets out a breath, nodding. "Still here babe."

"You got quiet for a minute there. Thought you fell asleep on me."

"Oh no, I'm still here, darling."

Dominik is quiet, his hand moving up and down his cock slowly as he reimagines what he could be doing to you. You find yourself in the same situation; imagining what your boyfriend was doing on the other end of the line, your hand slipping down the front of your panties. 

“Is that why you called?” He asks you softly, his voice pulling you back to reality. “Mhm, missed your pretty face,” you say and Dom smiles. 

Even when you're horny, you're still as charming as the day you met him. 

“I think you miss more than my face, my love.” 

You play dumb, “what do you mean?” And it’s almost like you can see the cocky smile on his face. 

“I think you miss me, y/n. My touch, my hands, my lips, my taste.. my-” 

“Yeah,” you cut him off with a ragged breath. “Everything about you.” Your words cause him to smile to himself.

You rubbed slow circles over your clit. “I was thinking about you,” you tell him, “missing the way your fingers stretch me out, make me feel so full.” 

“Really?” He asks a little too eagerly, mentally kicking himself for sounding so desperate but 3 weeks without you is a long time. 

“Really, baby. Mine don’t feel as good as yours do.” 

Dominik groans, “you can’t tell me that.” 

You bite back a smile, and you’re quiet for a moment before you speak. “Why not? Not enough to get you to touch yourself ? Or did you already start?” 

“You’re horrible,” he huffs, earning a laugh. 

“Oh come on Dom, you’re no fun.” You smile when you hear the movement of his hand on his side. “What are you doing?” You ask him. 

“What do you think I’m doing?” 

“You can’t answer a question with a question, Dominik. I know you know better than that.” 

He groans, irritated that he’s been on the phone for the last 15 minutes, you’ve been spinning him in circles and he has yet to cum. “Either you help me or I hang up, sweetheart.” He tells you, the pet name a dig at you. 

You love to tease him, it was your favourite pastime honestly. “How can I help you if I don’t know what I'm supposed to help you with?” 

“Fuck- y/n, come on. It’s not funny. I can’t stop thinking about you.” He rambles out in one breath. 

“About me? How sweet.” You chuckle, “get your hand wet, baby. I know you didn’t.” 

He hums, moving his hand to spit on it before wrapping it around his cock again. 

You hear the satisfied sigh that leaves his mouth, “that’s better,” you tell him, your own fingers moving a little faster. Your boyfriend is quiet, his hand moving up and down, he can hear the soft whimpers coming from your side of the line, the slightly wet noise filling the silence in between. 

He musters up the energy to speak, “what are you doing?”

“Exactly what you'd be doing if you were here.” You tell him, panties pulled to the side and your own two fingers buried in your pussy. He huffs a breath, “fuck- god I wish I was home.” 

“You’ll be home soon.” 

“Not soon enough.” 

“I miss you,” you tell him, starting your teasing again. “I miss waking up beside you, miss your touch, your arms around me, your mouth, your fingers, your cock.” 

Dominik's brown eyes close, imagining how pretty you looked laid there; legs spread, fingers in you. He could sit there and watch you all day if you let him. 

“Dom,” you sigh, your fingers curling up. “Yeah?” He answers. 

“Feels so fucking good.” 

“I wish I was there,” he admits, hand still moving but a bit faster this time. “Me too,” you hum, eyes closed as your other hand reaches down to rub on your clit.

Both you and Dom were on the edge of orgasm, the tightening knot in your stomach. “Dominik, god, fuck, please.” You ramble out, “yeah me too, baby.” 

Head tossed back into the pillows, eyes fluttering shut as you feel yourself slip over the edge. Your fingers are moving but you barely register the physical feeling of it. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, along with a string of please, yes and all the explicits under the sun. Dominik follows a moment after you; his name coming from you, in that context, imagining how pretty you must look was enough for him. The warm liquid all over his hand and his lower stomach. 

The line goes quiet, Dom breaks the silence as he reaches over to grab a tissue. “Do you have work?” 

You yawn, settling back into bed. “No, have the day off today and tomorrow."

“Good,” he smiles, wiping off his stomach and hand. He tosses the tissue in the trash before settling into bed again. 

You whispered, feeling yourself get more tired as the seconds passed. “Going back to sleep?” 

"Probably, stay with me?" He asks and you hum, turning over to settle on your side. "I love you, Dominik."

He whispers back; "I love you too, y/n."

---

taglist: @nosugarallspice  @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16  @books-and-netflix-pls  @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade  @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @trentsfav @trentsmyfave @noturbabe22

[annabelle--cane]

FUCK YOU LONDON! if you're dumb enough to apply for a new job this weekend, you're a big enough schmuck to come to the office of incident assessment and response! miserable work! employees that break down! alchemy! if you think you're going to find a healthy work environment at the oiar you can kiss my ass! it's our belief that you're such a stupid motherfucker you'll fall for this bullshit-- guaranteed! if you find better job security shove it up your ugly ass! you heard us right! shove it up your ugly ass! bring your skills! bring your experience! bring your social life! we'll destroy it! that's right! we'll destroy your social life! because at the oiar you're fucked six ways from sunday! take a hike to the oiar's home of trauma mind reading! that's right! trauma mind reading! how does it work? if your job interviewer can pluck the worst thing that's ever happened to you right out of your head, you get to skip the rest of the interview! don't wait! don't delay! don't fuck with us or we'll rip your nuts off! only at the oiar! the only department of the civil service that tells you to fuck off! hurry up asshole! we stop hiring the second you send us your cv, and you better not be overqualified or you're a dead motherfucker! go to hell! the oiar! london's filthiest and exclusive home of the meanest sons-of-bitches in the british civil service! guaranteed!

[lokisprettygirl]

Utopia (Modern! Daemon Targaryen x female reader) (Non Canon AU) (18+)

Read chapter 8 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 9

Summary: Daemon gives you the gift of a lifetime.

Warning: 18+ sex ,period sex (if it bothers you skip the scene) death and destruction that comes from a ship wreckage, smut, sex, menstrual sex, unprotected sex. Some inconsistency with ship sinking, i researched as much as I could

You were sitting in the office of the hiring manager of Casatopia, a popular five star hotel just outside London, it was closer to your house though and that's what you liked. Emma had asked Dalton to give your name for the vacant sous chef position so you decided to give it a try.

You couldn't just stay at home and miss Daemon like crazy when he wasn't around you, being at home all day long was driving you bonkers. The topia in the name made you feel slightly uneasy but you ignored the thought and decided to focus on the interview.

“So how was it at night ..over there?” Preston, the manager, asked you so you gave him a confused look, hoping that he would be able to provide you with a bit more context.

“I apologize I don't understand” you mumbled politely so he gave you a small smile.

“On the island I meant, I hope I'm not stepping on your boundaries, I'm just absolutely fascinated by your survival story” he said to you, his tone was gentle and filled with genuine curiosity.

Of Course he was curious. As soon as people recognised you this was how it went, perhaps you should consider scraping 'Worked as a sous chef on Queen Utopia' from your resume. You couldn't help but feel that it may not be the most professional topic to discuss at a job interview.

“It was tough but atleast I wasn't alone, I had someone who kept me sane there, there are people on this earth who have survived months with no one by their side so I'm grateful to not be alone in that situation” you mumbled politely as you understood where he was coming from.

Prior to your experiences on the ship and the island, you were one of those people who would read about survival stories and be amazed at what the survivors had accomplished. You always found it impossible to imagine yourself in such a situation and couldn't comprehend how someone could have the resilience and to make it through something like that.

That was, until you found yourself in a similar situation on the island, and your survival instincts began to kick in.

“Yeah I know..Daemon Targaryen, you lot are famous” You gave him a tight lipped smile as he said that.

A news article had picked up Lily's reddit post which had then reached the mainstream media. The backlash was brutal, but you and Daemon stood firm and refused to get caught up in the drama. You both knew that your love and appreciation for each other shouldn't have needed any justification after the traumatic event you both had been through. It should have been self-explanatory,

“Alright you're hired” he said to you so you furrowed your brows as he didn't really ask anything about your work experiences.

“You don't want to know anything about my capabilities or -” he interrupted you before you could even finish your sentence.

“Dalton told me enough..i just wanted to meet you if I'm being honest”

Were you getting some sort of hero privilege because of your suffering? You weren't sure if you enjoyed being favored like this or not. The attention you received was overwhelming and at times made you feel uncomfortable, especially when it seemed like people were looking at you as some kind of hero rather than a regular human being who just happened to have survived a traumatic experience when there really wasn't any other option.

“Our live band quit on us a few days ago and we are looking for a band again, though i have connected with the manager already, i hope The Dragonriders would accept the job”

You sighed as he said that and you were going to politely decline the job offer but then he passed you the salary slip and you accepted it almost immediately, it was more than you could have ever imagined.

Later that day as you reached home after that weird interview session, there was a text from Daemon, he was supposed to meet you at your place..

You grabbed a few things and called a cab to make way to his place. He had given you a key to his house for emergencies purposes and normally you'd just knock but you decided to make use of the key this time, as you knew that Daemon was in pain and likely resting in bed.

As you entered his bedroom he was laying on the bed with his head squished into the pillow so you climbed into the bed and wrapped your arm around him, as soon as he felt your touch his arm circled around your waist and he placed his head between the crook of your neck. His eyes were bloodshot red, his face was warm to the touch as well, he seemed flushed and even though he was in misery at the moment you couldn't help but notice how pretty he looked like this.

“Let me take care of you ok..did you take your pill?” You asked him softly as you scratched his scalp so he barely groaned in response.

“I'll be right back okay?” you got up from the bed, turning off all the lights in the room, as you knew how sensitive Daemon was to bright lights. You brought out the candles you had packed with you and began lighting them, casting a warm soft glow around the room. You then made your way to the kitchen to fetch a bowl of ice water and a wet cloth. Once everything was ready, you returned to Daemon's room and gently tapped his shoulder to get his attention so he scooted closer and placed his head on your lap.

Dipping the cloth in the icy cold water you placed it on his forehead and he sighed as he felt the cooling sensation, he opened his eyes to look at you for a moment, his lips curved into a faint smile before he closed his eyes again and allowed you to do your thing.

He had never had anyone caring about him like this, this was one of those things that made him feel closer to you on the island and he had come to realize how precious you actually were inside out.

And now your value in his life was something nobody else would ever be able to replicate or replace.

During his migraine attacks the most Lily ever did for him was that she'd sing at times and not that he was going to compare you two, he appreciated her efforts too but you just did it differently, you took care of him in ways he always wanted to be cared for.

He laid there quite for what felt like hours and as the burning pain gradually subsided, he took your hand and kissed it lovingly before he asked you to stop, he just wanted to hold you now and cuddle the night away.

“Emma found us a gig” he mumbled so you sighed in response. You were well aware of the gig.

“She found me a job as well at Casatopia” you said to him so nodded in acknowledgement. He already knew about that.

“Fate” he muttered softly so you pecked on his lips.

“It's giving me deja vu.. doesn't it feel weird to you that we'd be working again at the same place, in the hospitality industry no less? And there's literally topia in the name?”

He pulled away a little as you said that, he wasn't really thinking about it until you pointed it out.

“Are you worried something awful is going to happen again?” he asked you with concern evident in his voice.

“Yeah..what if the hotel burns down or explodes? Or something” you mumbled, your voice held a sense of foreboding.

“That's not going to happen sweetheart..you can't go about your life living in such fear but that is not to say that your fears are not valid, they truly are ..but no matter what happens I'll find you like you have found me..i promise okay?” he reassured you gently and you couldn't help but smile at that. The trauma was indented into you so deeply but with him by your side life was so much easier to deal with.

“Are you feeling okay now?” You asked him so he hummed in response,

“I'd feel much better if you'd ride me right about now” he gave you a mischievous smirk so you tapped on his cheek lightly.

“Dirty boy” you mumbled as you climbed on top of him and immediately unbuttoned his pants. Sometimes you both needed this quick raw fuck where no foreplay was a necessity or required, you just wanted to feel him inside you and he was more than eager to spill into you as fast as you could make him.

“Would you keep your schedule clear for the next week?” he asked you so you looked at him curiously.

“The whole week? I'm starting that job..”

“Can you talk to them and start a week later?” He mumbled as his breath hitched in his chest when you sunk down on him,

“Normally it would have seemed impossible but considering that manager is such a fan of ours I think I can manage” you chuckled softly and that made him smile too.

“Mmmm the trauma has its perks huh?”

You rode him very slowly at first as you just wanted to feel him in there, your fingers worked the buttons of his shirt and then you leaned down to suck on his neck before you lowered your mouth and pressed kisses on his bare chest.

“What are you planning?” You whispered in his ear so he gave you a smile.

“I'm taking you somewhere sweetheart”

“I can't ask where?”

He shook his head as you said that.

“It's a surprise”

“Alrighty”

Next day while Daemon was rehearsing with the band you sat down in front of the tv and received a surprising albeit not really shocking news, you had a feeling that Danny had something to do with the ship sinking incident and you were proven right.

He had come out in the open to tell that he had inadvertently left the cargo hatch open on the lower deck because he was distracted by something and someone, which allowed water to enter and resulted in the sinking, when he had realised it was too late to fix it. His video had received a million views where he was seen crying and apologizing because he couldn't bear the guilt of it anymore.

Even though Danny hadn't directly implicated Lily in his statement, you couldn't shake the feeling that her involvement was still tied to the tragedy because she had sent that voicemail that night to Daemon mentioning Danny and you had seen Danny at her house that night.

As you watched the news, you found yourself at a loss for words. How could Danny have made such a devastating mistake, especially when so much was at stake? The consequences of his actions were unfathomable, and you couldn't help but feel a mixture of anger, sadness, and frustration bubbling up inside you.

People had lost their lives, families had been torn apart, and all because of one person's negligence.

You felt enraged because he was the reason why you had to suffer for so long on that Island, all of this for what?

All you felt in that moment was resentment and anger towards Lily and Danny, that night when he looked into your eyes you didn't understand that look he gave you but now you knew it was probably guilt.

Given the severity of the situation, it was likely that he was going to get charged with manslaughter and his life was ruined, that was given.

When you saw Daemon that day he seemed lost too so you just wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tightly to comfort him.

“Did she ever tell you about this?”

You asked him as you pulled away so he shook his head lightly,

“I can't make sense of it…how could you be involved in something like that and then..she must have known that ship would sink and she didn't even try to warn us or— i -” you rubbed his shoulders with your fingers to comfort him as you heard his voice breaking, he was at loss of words as well, same as you but it was more difficult for him because Lily was involved.

“You spend years with someone and you think you know who they are but I.. didn't know her ..at all. How could I have been in love with her if I didn't know her like that?” his eyes teared up as he questioned you so you cupped his cheeks and kissed his forehead.

“It's not that easy.. love is complex..you can't put it in a box like that Daemon..you loved her but honestly she never deserved your love”

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer as you said that, until now he had never heard you saying anything against Lily even when she gave you every reason to do so but now he understood your resentment as he felt the same way about it. He resented her now especially because ever since he had returned all she had tried to do was possess him again, she didn't care what he had gone through and she definitely didn't care that she was one of the reasons why that had happened to him.

He really thought that perhaps with time a friendship could develop between them again but this revelation had changed that for him. He didn't want her in her life anymore, he didn't want to be around her in any form.

A week later you were packing for that surprise trip and Emma offered to help you with that,

“Where is he taking you?” She asked you so you shrugged in response as you didn't know yourself where he was taking you. This was his big surprise.

“He won't say anything..I was hoping he had spilled something to Aemond or Cole-”

“Nahh Aemond would have told me”

You nodded as she said that, the next morning he picked you up in the earliest and as you reached the dock with him your blood ran cold so he took his seat belt off and grabbed your hand.

“I need you to trust me, okay? Can you?” he asked you softly so you gulped in nervousness.

“Are we.. going on a boat ride?” your voice shook as you spoke so he nodded,

“It's going to be ok..I'll take care of you I promise.. I just ..just trust me please”

You cupped his cheeks as he said that. The ocean terrified you, anything to do with ships or boats scared you but you wanted to trust him because you had a feeling this was something really important to him and you had a feeling wherever he was taking you would only bring you happiness because he was certain of it.

As you boarded the high-speed boat, the churning waters and the speed at which the vessel was traveling brought back memories so you spent most of the time being in the deck with Daemon,

Apart from you two there were two trained operators who were going to drive you both towards the destination, you noticed how the boat was equipped with everything you'd ever need in the case of an emergency. Plenty of rations, clothes and other necessities were available.

“How much did you spend on this?” You asked him softly as you both were cuddling on the bed so he gave you a smirk.

“You don't have to worry about that..I wanted to do this for both of us”

He was being so cryptic and mysterious and perhaps you'd have felt wary of a man's intentions but it was Daemon, your cavemon and if there was something you knew about that man then it was the fact that he'd never hurt you or harm you in anyways.

With Daemon by your side the time always seemed to race so approx two days later as you finally reached your destination he put a blindfold over your eyes and asked you to not try to peek until he said so.

You couldn't help but giggle, his excitement was infectious.

He wrapped his arms around your waist as he guided you off the boat and as soon as he put you down you felt the warm sand beneath your feet and let out a literal gasp.

“Daemon–” your voice came out in a whisper and as you inhaled the air, your eyes widened.

You didn't even have to guess anymore as you recognized the scent of your surroundings immediately. You had spent six months here after all.

You were back on the island, the island that had saved your life in a way and brought the love of your life closer to you.

The uninhabited island that was now owned by Daemon Targaryen and had a name now. Utopia- a place where everything was perfect.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Note: There will be an epilogue for this to sum it up. But this was all I had to tell about Mr Cavemon and his brave girl that risked everything for him. Hope my lovely few readers had enjoyed this story 🥺

Taglist

@mcufan72 @123forgottherest @shuichiakainx @stupidthoughtsinwriting @tmlbdv

@ammo23 @anukulee @ajthefujoshi

[gabessquishytum]

Okay someone somewhere said ballet dancer hob and rewrote my brain chemistry.

So. Ballet director dream was once the absolute best in the world but he had a violent feud with a cold and demanding director named Burgess. During one practice Burgess was yelling and screaming at Dream for being useless (he hoped by hiring Dream, his legendary sister Death would come dance for the London ballet too. It didn’t work and he is bitter about it now). And it turns into a fight and Burgess hits Dream in the knee with his cane, injuring it so badly it ruins his career. (His mistake. In revenge, Dream launches a hostile takeover and ousts the asshole.)

Now Dream is the cold and demanding director of the London ballet. And for ten years (time skip because of silver fox dream supremacy) he builds himself up into an absolute legend. Gault is the prime ballerina because I say so. The Corinthian took over Dream’s role as the other star for a while but eventually he wouldn’t take direction and is also sort of a scummy person so they have a massive falling out and he quits.

Without the Corinthian, people say Dream’s shows have lost their spark. He gets colder and more difficult and demanding as a result. Everyone is on the brink of quitting.

Death is now a director too and she promises Dream that she knows the perfect replacement who will breathe new life into his company.

And she sends him Hob.

Hob is the exact opposite of Dream. He went to school on scholarship. He never even saw a ballet until he was 16. He started late but he’s making up for it with the sheer joy he brings to his dancing. He fucking loves it. There’s something loose and free in his dancing that’s so opposite from Dream’s typical technically perfect but brutally emotional style.

Dream bets Death that Hob will quit within a month. Hob is always showing up smiling and joking around and distracting others. Dream is hard on him as he is hard on everyone. And yet. Hob doesn’t quit.

There’s something about the way he throws himself into the dance that is unshakeable.

Dream can’t help but wonder when he lost that kind of joy. He is very quickly captivated by him. It is always this way. Dream fell for Calliope’s dancing before they ever spoke, those many years ago.

One night, Dream catches Hob dancing late on the stage when everyone else has left, practicing a section Dream criticized him harshly for. It is hard not to overcorrect and be too harsh on Hob. Dream knows eventually it will drive Hob away. So for now he stays in the shadows and watches, his heart pounding against his ribs.

When he’s done, Hob looks right at Dream and asks if that was any better.

Dream wasn’t aware Hob had known he was being watched, but he climbs up onto the stage with him. He tells Hob he is improving. But Dream has extremely high standards and it takes more than passion to survive in this world.

Hob just smiles at him and starts his cool down stretches. “I don’t know. I think you could use a little passion.” He‘s flushed and Dream…can’t quite look away.

“I want to impress you. I want to improve,” Hob tells him. “I’ll do whatever you ask.”

Dream carefully doesn’t examine his words closely. Hob…can’t be imagining what Dream is. He doesn’t know what things Dream might ask for.

“I am not known for my kindness,” Dream says stiffly. “More experienced dancers than you have quit rather than work for me.”

Hob rises to his feet. “You can’t scare me off. I want this,” he insists. “I want to be here.”

Dream is reluctantly impressed. But he is also picturing Hob on his knees in Dream’s silk sheets and he doesn’t know how to stop. “I can be…punishing,” he warns, unwisely worded.

Hob is beautiful and determined in the stage lights. “Punish me,” he dares him.

Oh I LOVE a ballet au!! There’s so much drama here, I love it. Love the idea of dancer Hob, imagine the Billy Elliot vibes!!! Or maybe he doesn’t start dancing until he’s a teenager. Either way he’s the most lively, exciting dancer of his generation and he has so much JOY when it comes to ballet. He’s rough and uncouth at times but the moment he starts dancing he just becomes the most beautiful thing in the room. Death has nurtured him and given him a wonderful grasp of technique, but she knows that in order to become the greatest dancer he can be, Hob needs to go to Dream.

The thing about Hob is, he loves ballet. Loves it in a way that simply can’t be faked. And Dream’s heart clenches each time he sees Hob because he used to be like that! He used to love ballet more than anything in the world. Where has that love gone, and when did he get so angry and cold? It’s not something that Dream wants to dwell on, but watching Hob makes him feel things he hasn’t felt in a decade.

Watching Hob also makes him horny, but that's another thing that he's not ready to unpack.

Imagine Hob practicing at the barre. Repeating over and over, the same exercises, the same positions that Dream has drilled into him. He sees Dream watching him in the mirror and his eyes just light up! He works even harder, enjoying the attention, enjoying the fact that he KNOWS that Dream is going to find something to pick up on.

Imagine Dream stalking up to Hob and just pouncing. Pressing him against the mirror and kissing him desperately. Hob’s fingers stroke Dream’s silver streaked temples and his mouth moves just as beautifully as his body does when he's dancing.

And when Dream pulls back he's like "your tendu is sloppy, do it again." And Hob can't help but grin <3

[whorediaries-09]

part two of maroon where they have an angsty arguement and both of them are crying and screaming and harry cries so they have to put him to sleep and then talk, but they end up kissing.

part two of maroon? sure.

the great war;

pairing- sirius black x reader warning(s)- angst, hurt/comfort. (let me know if i should add more.) a/n- i think i really kinda hate this one.

ps- changed the plot kinda cause like my mind only went with this.

the slut club

and we will never go back to that bloodshed, crimson clover

in the bustling city of london, a cacophony of sound engulfs the snowflakes falling from the transcendent sky. you clutch your hands underneath the warmth of your coat, hiding your nose under the layers of scarf you had wrapped around your neck. tom handed you a firewhiskey and you let the warm liquid flow down your throat like a bittersweet memory.

it was another day with failure. you had been trying to find a job for remus, but rarely anyone would accept a werewolf as their assistant. you worked as a healer, so you couldn't possibly hire him as your assistant. and he remained too modest to accept money without any reason.

'thanks tom,' you say, your voice muffled against warm wool. you cling a few sickles on the counter. 'keep the change.'

you disapparate to your house. the cold metal of your keys jingle under your grip, and you unlock your door.

'harry, honey, i'm home,' you call out. your heart skips a beat when the regular trotting of small steps don't ponder at your call. you shout his name louder and your voice echoes in your hollow hallway.

the silence that echoes in your dull heartbeat is stronger. flashing memories of walking past james' dead body to discover lily's corpse flooded your mind and your footsteps faltered as you walked into your bedroom. anger throbbed inside you, anger at yourself and sirius. you had told him to stay with harry. why hadn't he come?

your fears weren't true. sirius lay in his dog form with harry on top of him. both of them seemed to be fast asleep.

'sirius, wake up. i'm here.' you say, picking up harry from his body. you place a soft kiss on his forehead, and your unintentional tears wet his cheek. you wipe off the tear before it would flow down his neck.

sirius gets up from the floor. you notice a bruise on his neck, but you don't question it. you sway harry in your arms, walking towards his cot.

'let me have him for the night,'

you stop dead in your tracks. with your back turned to his face, you're not hesitant when you offer him your reply.

'no.'

'why not?'

'i'd let you have him if your trauma wasn't so fresh. you're coping mechanisms aren't fit enough to keep a baby,'

'what the fuck do you mean by that?'

you place harry in his cot, turning towards him.

'don't curse. you know very well what i mean.'

'oh- so you're going to stand there pretending you're the best mother ever?'

'i never said that, no. i just have comparatively better coping mechanisms. and i'm not shaming you for your coping mechanisms either. so really, don't take any offence,'

'no offence my foot, i'm his godfather!'

'i'm his godmother, sirius,'

'godmother? oh yeah the great mother. don't stand there acting like a saint when i take care of him throughout the day. you just go out and be a healer. you don't care about him.'

you're not sure if his words are meant to sting. but they do. like little pricks absorbing into your heart with every second you stare into his eyes. your vision is blurred, hazed but your mind is clear as day. you feel bruised like violets. it was like taking your poison all alone. your breathing is rugged, hot tears flowing down your cheeks. you were diesel, a desire.

and he was playing with fire.

'i-i'm sorry i didn't mean that,' he says, his voice cracking. he moves closer to you, holding you. and maybe it's the familiarity of his touch. but it felt like bloodshed, a lost morning glory within the grasps of an unfair war. you feel like you're sinking when his scent haunts you again. you feel like you're on fire when his touch thrives into your skin again. you feel like you gather storms, never knowing what they'll mean.

you're not sure whether he wants to haunt you again or not. you're not sure whether he wants to go with grace or not. you're not sure if you're dead to him.

your tears paint his shirt. the war was over, the battleships would sink beneath the waves. so was the bloodshed. you'd never weep in a sunlit room alone. it was a cold ghostly grace of his lips against yours. which cursed your name, wrecked you. it was your home, it was engraved in your bones.

and maybe his love would never slip out of your reaches.

[lewkwoodnco]

Question...? - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: saw your other ask, no worries :))) I love getting requests for fics because it helps broaden my scope of writing (instead of the same issues each time) and lets me practice being creative! So by all means, request away! :D Also for this fic, let's pretend that Fetches are better observed by people with Sight hehe. 4.8k

The four of them were in a mansion for which they were hired to get rid of a phantasm. She was the newest addition to the agency, having started a few weeks ago, so she was nervous, especially since she relied more on her Listening and Touch. Still, while training, it had been amply impressed on her that little could go wrong as long as the proper precautions were taken, and she always upheld those words of advice.

She was walking in a circle, laying down their iron chains on the first floor while Lucy and George were setting up detection equipment on the upper floors. Lockwood was pacing the room, trying to get a feel of the area the Phantasm showed up most frequently in. She looked up, mildly concerned by Lockwood's tired yet pensive expression. Their eyes briefly met, and they weakly smiled at each other. Lockwood looked preoccupied, and she felt nauseous. She had been lucky enough to have never experienced a case gone awry like the others had, but it instilled this new fear in her at the beginning of every case: that this one might be it.

Life at Lockwood & Co. was far from idyllic, but it didn't take long for the three mismatched friends to burrow their place in her heart. Because they were friends. All of them. Equally special friends. She closed on eye to Lockwood buttering her bread for her every morning because of how she struggled to get it to melt on the toast. She closed another eye to Lockwood having an extra cup of tea ready just for her at night even though she always insisted that she was going to bed. Really, the only way she could handle the skip in her heartbeat when Lockwood looked at her for too long was by ignoring him altogether.

Sometimes she would look at Lockwood and her heart would stutter. Every touch, every glance reeked of repression, but she was too conscious of their situation, probably excessively so, so it was never simple, never easy. The thought would flit through her mind and she would be seized by this sudden urge to reach out, but she would swallow the compulsion and contend with gazing from afar. It wasn't holding his hand, it was holding his hand in front of DEPRAC or Fittes. It wasn't kissing him, it was kissing him in front of George and Lucy. It wasn't loving Lockwood, it was loving him under the watchful, judgmental eyes of the city of London. Her emotions spooked her with how exposed they made her feel, All her doubts and insecurities encroached on their relationship until there was simply no room left for love.

The clock struck one, and Lucy and George came running down the stairs. Since both her and Lucy had pretty much no sight, they were supposed to stay inside the iron circle while Lockwood and George handled the Phantasm. The boys stood by the door, rapiers drawn, ready to follow it to its source. But the seconds ticked by and they remained there with their rapiers drawn while Lucy and her watched expectantly. Lockwood lowered his weapon, looking even more troubled than before, cursing softly.

"Shit. It knows we're here."

She worriedly glanced at Lucy who gave her a small nod. Together, they simultaneously stepped out of the iron circle, drawing their rapiers. They huddled together, each facing a different wall, slowly rotating. Everyone else looked alert yet comfortable, poised to strike, but she felt a lot more hesitant. Preliminary reports had pointed to the visitor being relatively easy to neutralise, so it unnerved her to be needed, especially this early on. She inhaled, straining her eyes, hoping for some traces of Sight to kick in.

All that did was made her eyes water, blurring the wall in front of her. She blinked, then coughed, and still the haziness didn't disappear. Lockwood, who was standing next to her, turned, frowning at her cough. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I just think there's something in my eye."

"Something in your-" He stopped short when he glanced at the wall she was facing, the blood suddenly rushing from his pale face. He gripped her shoulders and tumbled, bringing her down with him. She panted, highly disoriented by having the wind knocked out of her, distantly aware of some kerfuffle beginning. She felt a strong pair of hands drag her back towards the iron circle, and she looked up to see Lucy's panicked face. By then, her wits had sufficiently returned for her to properly assess what had just happened. What on earth were George and Lockwood doing, fighting the wall-

The realisation struck her unpleasantly just as the boys started chasing something invisible up the stairs, leaving an acidic taste in her mouth. The wall of haze was the Phantasm. No wonder Lockwood looked like he was going to have an aneurysm. So much for trying to screw up some faint traces of Sight. Two feet in front of her, and it was still as good as air. Lucy must have noticed the distraught expression on her face. "Hey, I can't see it either. It'll be alright, you'll see. No harm, no foul."

She nodded, feeling a hot prickling behind her eyes. God, the last thing she needed was to start crying at her first less-than-smooth job. That would be the icing on the cake of her embarrassment. She turned away, trying to calm herself down. When she looked back, the boys were coming down the stairs, cobwebs dusting George's shoulders. He held up what looked like a box wrapped in a net.

"Found the source. Music box. Oddly quaint."

Lockwood, on the other hand, was a different story. His face was stony and he was clearly trying to contain some kind of rage, struggling to spit out words.

"Cab. Home. Now."

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

If she thought the feeling of messing up during the job itself was bad, she was not prepared for the cab ride home. Even with George and the equipment uncomfortably wedged between them, she could still feel Lockwood glowering from the other end of the cab. She stared out at the dismal night landscape, the nauseous feeling back in full force. She was so dead.

When they reached, Lockwood walked off first, George and Lucy close behind, carrying in the equipment. She trailed behind them miserably. Lockwood was sitting in the kitchen, hands clasped tightly. He didn't waste a second.

"That was unbelievably dangerous. What about the plan we discussed?"

"Lucy left the circle, so obviously I was going to follow her."

"Lucy is a much more experienced agent than you. She knew what she was doing. Unlike yourself."

"I didn't mean to, it just happened. I set up the chains and lavender as we were supposed to. I was only acting as I was taught."

"No, you weren't, because if you were, you'd have been in that circle. Waiting, not meddling, like I specifically asked you!"

"Lucy stepped out of the circle!"

"I don't care about what Lucy did or didn't do. If you want to act like Lucy, then you need to be skilled like Lucy. Experienced. Which you aren't."

"Yeah, I know that."

"All it takes is one mistake."

"I know."

"So you agree."

"Yes."

"And we're on the same page?"

He was looking up at her with little hostility, but the air between them suddenly felt cold. Something had changed, she was sure of it, but she wasn't quite sure what. Even George and Lucy, who had been putting together some tea, slowed down.

"I-I don't quite follow."

"Y/N L/N, you are officially relieved of your contractually-obligated duties at Lockwood & Co."

She was too stunned to come up with any sort of response. No sadness, no anger, no remorse. Just a haze of confusion settling over her numb mental landscape. Lucy, on the other hand, started loudly scolding Lockwood, who acted like he took no notice, except for speaking even louder to drown out her harsh voice, his feathers finally beginning to get ruffled.

"I cannot, in good faith, continue to employ you and enable you in these-these suicidal ideations-"

"Suicidal ideations?" Lucy looked like she wanted to cut Lockwood with the butter knife she was holding.

"- plainly put, you are little more than a liability." Though his words were professional, his expression was anything but detached. Lockwood wasn't the type to openly display anger, but she could feel that he was somehow even more furious than her over her blunder. Liability? The word echoed in her brain. She needed to sit down. Oh my god, she was ruined. What agency would want her now?

"You can collect your severance pay here..." Lockwood scribbled out a cheque and she numbly accepted it, still catching up. "And you have twenty-four hours to leave."

She mouthed wordlessly. It was true, she had acted foolishly. Perhaps even more foolishly when she assumed she's get a second chance.

"Lockwood," it was George's turn to speak now. "Stop being a bloody idiot. It was one time. Let it go."

"It's my agency. It's my decision. If you don't like it, you can leave with her."

She had never seen George look so pissed or so ready to punch someone. Lockwood returned his disgusted glare with a steely stare of his own. There seemed to be some kind of silent argument between the two boys before George turned away and walked to his room, slamming the door.

He didn't even look at her.

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

Her departure had created a quiet vacuum at 35 Portland Row. Lucy had begged her not to leave, to stay until she and George knocked some sense into Lockwood. But he was right. She didn't even have anything to say to him. She had to accept that there was nothing left for her at Lockwood & Co, and move on. She tapped on George's door on the way out, and the shuffling from the inside let her know that he was listening. She said her goodbyes and continued on.

She passed Lockwood's room, whose door was ajar. Unknowingly, her eyes flitted through the gap, seeing Lockwood standing with her back to her. He was fixing his tie in the mirror, and there were dark circles ringing his suspiciously red eyes. Even in that split second, their eyes somehow met. He started, then began to turn, but she couldn't bear it. She walked past his door, went down the stairs, and walked straight out of the only home she'd ever known. So she managed to glimpse everyone at 35 Portland Row one last time before leaving, but she didn't see the cold cup of tea waiting for her on the kitchen counter.

After that, Lucy started going out on fewer jobs, George never forgave Lockwood for reasons bigger than letting a colleague go, and Lockwood stuck his head in the sand, refusing to admit anything was amiss. All the while, the three of them grew sicker and quieter, tensions surfacing more frequently. Lucy had to break up a fist fight between George and Lockwood more than once, and dealing with it all alone took a toll on her. George shut himself up in his room with his experiments, deteriorating from his loss of contact with other people, and Lockwood threw himself into their jobs with newfound reckless abandon.

Not that she knew anything about any of that.

She was having a hard enough time trying to land on her feet. After she managed to rent a place, it took her a while to decide how to move forward. Maybe it was because it was he who had done the firing, but she couldn't get Lockwood off her mind. She knew that there had been nothing between them - they were only friends at best, colleagues at worst - but she caught herself thinking about the quiet hours of the nights in the shadows of the library, the deep timbre of his voice resonating in her bones, the cautious warmth seeping through her as she sipped her tea, the flicker of the fireplace and how it reflected in Lockwood's eyes...It was as though she had forgotten who she was before Lockwood & Co, or even who she was outside of those fleeting glances over yellowed pages.

But she had to move on, so she did. Stumbling at first, before gradually gaining a stable footing, she started out as a private agent: no company needed. But being an individual agent had most of the paperwork of a normal agent, and she never was the best at paperwork, so she hired Michael, an administrative assistant who came with the added bonus of joining her in the field for the tougher cases. It felt wrong to apply to other companies, and as childish as it sounded, she didn't want to work at another company that wasn't Lockwood & Co., chock-full of recluse maniacs.

And this flimsy prayer was somehow answered. A few months in, Barnes called her in for her help on a mansion the Council wanted to tear down. It had been left untouched for quite a while, but he was being pressured to finally address its visitor infestation problem. He had mentioned something about sending in another team to help, but she hadn't thought to ask for more details until she showed up to the location.

"Hello!" Michael was a cheery person, and Lucy returned his smile with one of her own. Even George waved at him, but Lockwood just stared darkly. Something about him was more withdrawn and skittish now. He was civil enough to shake Michael's hand and mumble a greeting, but there was something strained in his movements, as if deeply confused. He nodded at her and she gave him a tight cursory smile. That same melancholy that she had seen on his face the night before the case and again in his bedroom before leaving started to reappear. She looked away before she could start to care. It wasn't any of her business. Lockwood had made that crystal clear.

They left their bags on the kitchen island and started to make their way upstairs. They started placing their temperature detectors in the rooms and looked around for any false walls or hidden cavities where sources might be hidden, but didn't find any. Much like her last case at Lockwood & Co., the visitors were reported to have shown up more frequently on the higher floors. Unlike that last case, she wasn't going to make the same mistake of ignoring the ground floor. Eventually, they were done with their preliminary readings and had a quick snack in the kitchen. Michael finished first and dusted his hands.

"I'll do the chains."

"Y/N can do the chains." Lockwood bit out, with a harsher edge that Michael didn't seem to pick up on.

"Oh, I just thought that it might tire her out, to do it in a house as charged with psychic energy as this one." He threw her a look that she didn't quite understand. It was true that he always insisted on laying down the chains for more dangerous locations, but she had always thought it was just him trying to be helpful. Now, she wasn't so sure.

"Why, 'cause she's a girl?"

The rest of them exchanged glances. Michael stared at Lockwood for a while, and he stared back. Finally, he shrugged and handed her the chains. She crammed the last of her sandwich into her mouth as she started laying the chains down, months-old confusion bubbling inside of her again. It was true that she had always been in charge of chains while at Lockwood & Co., but things were different now.

By the time she was done with the chains, everyone else had started to come up to take their positions. She went down to the ground floor, joining Lockwood at the kitchen island. While dividing themselves up, she had said that she wanted to stay downstairs and George mentioned that Lockwood had the same idea, and so they were grouped together.

Now came the boring part: waiting. They sat in silence for a while, backs to each other, watching their surroundings, but curiosity tugged at them too much.

"So...how have things been?"

"Good, good. I'm a freelance agent now."

"Yeah, you and that dickhead guy."

"Excuse me?"

"He so obviously wants to get in your pants. But, by all means, carry on. That's what you're perfect at, anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

A muscle twitched in his jaw, and that melancholic look hardened. "Nothing."

"It obviously meant something. Out with it."

He spun around, barely hitting the granite countertop, but the sound was enough to make her flinch. "You moved on and left us all behind. We've been stuck in a rut for months now and we can't even do anything about it. How could I beg you to come back after the way I spoke to you?"

His words ripped her apart. All her anger dissolved, replaced by devastation. As hard as she tried, even as time wore on she couldn't help thinking how every month, week, day, hour spent away from Lockwood was time wasted. Maybe it was laughable how strong of a grip he had on her, but she didn't care anymore.

"I would've come." Her voice sounded pathetic and she was close to tears. "I don't care about what you did or didn't say. All you had to do was say the word...and I would've returned in a heartbeat."

Lockwood wouldn't meet her eyes, instead choosing to fiddle with a scratch on the island's surface. He didn't know about the nights she spent at her tiny window, empty eyes unseeingly looking out, desperately yearning for the colour that Lockwood brought into her grey life. She pressed on, voice raw with emotion.

"I've tried to move on. Obviously. It's just...not the same. It never was." How could it have been? Everything was just a second-best luxury without Lockwood. "And if you cared so much, why'd you say all those horrible things in the first place?"

"I had to do what was best for the agency. You were a liability. I'm sure you're professional enough to understand that."

"And I thought you'd be sensitive enough to understand why I felt I was more than a liability." Any hope for reconciliation evaporated. She spoke icily, with disapproval yet nonchalance. "What a disappointment for the both of us."

He turned away, and so did she, a tense silence hanging over the both of them. They really did make a dreadful pair: she was maddening, he was stubborn. Both equally spiteful.

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

Hours passed without a single sign of any of the visitors. She was getting tired of straining her ears, trying to Hear something, anything. All of a sudden, she heard Lockwood get up and walk away. She turned hurriedly, thinking that he had Seen something.

"Sod this. I'm going into the basement."

The one room they hadn't been granted access to was the basement. The key was long-lost, and Barnes told them not to bother with it much, especially since the neighbours only reported sightings at the windows of the higher floors. But clearly that wasn't good enough for Lockwood.

"Don't! We're not allowed."

"You don't understand, Y/N. You haven't been staring at its door for the past hour like I have. It's...calling out to me. Whatever we're looking for, it's hiding down there."

"Don't be reckless." He continued picking the lock. "This wasn't part of the plan!"

The lock gave away, and Lockwood forced the rusty door open. He started walking down the steps, and she followed with an anxious feeling in her stomach.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Following you, dipshit. Like I'd let you walk down here alone."

"You don't need to act like you care. Go back upstairs."

"I don't care? How'd you come up with that brilliant idea?"

"I just know."

She yanked his arm, spinning him around to face her. "Know how?"

"You won't even say my name." (what, and stain it with pride? my bruised ego?)

"Oh yeah? Big deal. You won't even look at me. It's like you don't even want to acknowledge that I exist." She didn't mean to sound bitter, but god did she hate it. (looking at you meant recognising that you were once part of my life, and that meant acknowledging one of my biggest fuck-ups yet.)

There was a tightness at the corners of his mouth. "That isn't true."

"Really? Could've fooled me." She side-stepped him, glaring, continuing down the steps. When they reached the bottom, Lockwood pointed his flashlight at the floor and her stomach heaved. Littering the floor was thousands or tiny doll parts, bent and twisted and scorched. She shrank back while Lockwood reached out, fascinated, as if in a trance. She slapped his hand.

"Don't touch it! These must be the sources. Where's the net?"

"I thought you had the net."

The door swung shut. Her face grew pale. Ghostly fog seeped in from the crack under the door. She barely registered Lockwood taking her hand and dragging her away, to the floor covered with doll parts. Even he looked stricken, his wane face illuminated by the spectral glow. She felt herself crumbling.

"This is it," she said numbly, lost in the throes of despair. "This is...the end of the line. This is how we die."

She could feel Lockwood's clammy palm in her own. Somehow, he had the strength to grip her hand and force some strength into her. "Are you kidding? Either of us could take this lot any day of the week. With both of us?" He tore his eyes away from the advancing visitors, a weak smile ghosting his lips. "It'll be a piece of cake."

He drew his rapier and she reluctantly drew hers. "If we die, I'll never let you live it down. You'll be stuck with me for eternity."

"Don't threaten me with a good time,"

She muttered under her breath. "'Calling out to you,' my foot."

For the next half an hour, they swiped at the visitors materialising in front of them, mostly Type Ones with a few cumbersome Type Twos. There were some close shaves but they were somehow always just a fraction quicker, a fraction further away than their reach. As she sliced the last Spectre, she felt this odd quiet settle over her. They had done it.

And yet, she didn't feel completely calm. The hairs on the back of her neck were still raised. Something was off, even though it was completely silent. Too silent. She turned, startled by the sight of Lockwood on the floor, terror in his eyes. His rapier had been cast to the side, long forgotten, and he appeared to be staring into empty space. This time, the realisation struck just in time.

She sliced through the air in front of Lockwood, hearing a ghostly shriek as the air shifted. Lockwood blinked slowly, chest heaving. That must have been a Fetch. She didn't want to ask what he had seen as he was clearly still shaken up by it. She let him catch his breath before she pulled him up onto his unsteady legs. She tried talking to him, but he couldn't manage a single word. Desperation clawed at her throat and stung her eyes as she helped him up the stairs.

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

"We thought the both of you finished each other off," George was saying, but he stopped short when he saw Lockwood slumped over on her shoulder, lips trembling. She recapped what had happened as quickly as possible, and Lucy and Michael went to cover the sources with their iron nets. He wasn't quite ghost-locked - he was able to move and respond, albeit sluggishly - but he was obviously still deeply affected.

She sent Michael home alone, choosing to fire him later once he was better rested, and travelled to 35 Portland Row with the rest. George and Lucy started to make some tea in the kitchen to calm their nerves, but Lockwood headed straight for the library instead. She found the first aid kit and followed him, stopping short at the threshold.

The room was a mess. Magazines and newspapers littered the floors, there was a book on every surface, and the fireplace looked vacant and unused. The only thing that seemed unchanged was the armchair opposite his, the one she used to sit in. But even that had an air of emptiness hanging around it. Lockwood distractedly pushed away the newspapers on his seat, staring into the ashy fireplace. She drew up a chair and started unpacking the first aid kit.

"You don't have to come back if you don't want."

She sighed. "Good riddance," she said softly, but her features were too taut with tension for there to be any true venom in her words. Because she did want to come back, more than anything in the world, even now. She soaked a piece of cotton in rubbing alcohol, and started cleaning a cut on his face. It wasn't even that deep of a cut, but it made her eyes smart. She could see the ghosts of injuries past, scars that never fully healed, and yet the world was cruel enough to continue slicing him open, physically and emotionally.

"I have-" He grimaced, breathing shallowly. "There's this...lump, sitting in my chest. It's where all my regrets and anger collect. It's so difficult to...say it out loud, acknowledge that it exists, so sometimes I don't. I let the nearest thing take the brunt of my rage." He gripped the arm of his chair, voice getting weaker and weaker. An admission of guilt was an admission of sin, the sin of his cruelty towards someone as pure and well-meaning as her. "When I think about you that night, so clueless to death hovering inches from you...it scares me more than anything else. I know that nothing happened, but sometimes I forget, and then I can't shake the feeling that...you're gone. It makes me lose control, my hands shake..."

He laughed bitterly, almost hysterically, as he sniffled. "And you know me! I'm...the best at communicating. I hoped you'd give up agent work altogether, or at least join a more reputable agency with better resources. I wasn't as mad with you as I was with myself. It was all I could think about for weeks. That I..." He traced the shape of the knuckles of her other hand. "...put you in that position." He looked up at her, eyes glowing with that despondency that showed in his worst times. "I wish I said something. I wish I brave enough."

She looked down, busying herself with some ointment as she felt her cheeks flush and tears threaten to spill. "I get it. I couldn't say anything either. Hell, I pretended that I didn't even feel anything." She blinked, feeling her tears outline the bridge of her nose. "Whenever I think of you, I feel this giddiness. But I also feel this panic. It's like-like...kissing someone in a crowded room. You make me feel so exposed. So vulnerable. So susceptible to getting hurt. Emotion that terrifies."

Lockwood pushed the first aid kit away and she almost instinctively threw herself against his chest, his arms wrapping around her, holding her close. It was so intimate, so sacred, even she felt like an intruder just by being aware of it. His cheek rested on the top of her head, his grip on her a little too strong to be entirely comfortable, but there was something strangely cathartic about it, as if it symbolised recognition of how much it hurt to love him.

They shared a quiet kind of sadness, one tainted by the yearning they had desperately tried to skim over for the past few months. She wasn't crying so much as tears flowing every time she blinked, and Lockwood's stilted breathing indicated the same for him. The time for sobbing until she couldn't breathe was months ago, when she had first left. "I was so scared that something would happen to you...and I wouldn't even know...until it was too late."

"I thought I lost you." His voice was uneven, much like his pulse, and his grip on her still hadn't relented. "I thought it was best for you to stay safe, to stay away, but I kept thinking you would forget me, and move even further away, and...and then my heart would break in two-"

She shifted, leaning her head against his collarbone. "I remember. I remember it all. I remember you."

[skip-hire-njb-recycling]

Skip Hire Hazardous Waste and Skip Hire: What You Need to Know in London

[lookingfts]

One of my favorite stories of yours is a place to rest, amongst a multitude of yours that are really just fantastic reads.

How are those two doing today?

Thank you! I can’t believe I wrote that fic almost two years ago. Here’s a little glimpse into them now.

--

She always knew when Anthony had something on his mind. When he was tangled up in an issue at work, or one of his siblings was involved in drama (constantly), or his mum was going through a rough patch. That little dimple would pop in his forehead, his brows furrowed in concentration, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

“Everything okay?” Kate asked, running her hands through his thick hair. Anthony looked up, pressing his laptop closed, and flashed that warm smile that seemed exclusive to her.

Stretching out his hands, he tugged Kate into his lap, and she went willingly, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Yeah. I’m okay. Just thinking.” Drawing little circles on her hip, Anthony took a breath. “I’m glad you’re here, actually. There’s something I need to run by you.”

“Okay.” Even before they’d gotten married and officially merged their lives together, Anthony had sought her opinion on personal and business matters alike. He trusted her to tell him the truth, and even when they disagreed – sometimes passionately – they always managed to find a way forward.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” Anthony said, deliberately as though he was searching for the right words. “And I want to buy Journey’s End from your mum when she’s ready to retire.”

The words soaked in slowly, and Kate blinked at him. “What?”

“I talked to Mary about it last weekend. She was thrilled. But I want you to be on board too.” His hand tightened on her hip, his expression so earnest that her heart skipped a beat. “I want it to stay in your family. Our family. Besides, it has sentimental value to me, too. It’s where I fell in love with my wife, you know.”

Kate laughed thickly, remembering the sad girl who hid behind her responsibilities to avoid living. Until a smug, rude viscount happened upon her corner of the world and turned everything upside down.

She didn’t even feel like the same person anymore. Maybe no one had it all, but Kate thought she was pretty close. A challenging but fulfilling career, a strong marriage, a solid relationship with her family. And even more incredible things on the way.

“We’ll hire people we trust to run it,” Anthony said quickly, mistaking her silence for hesitation. “We can be involved as much or as little as you want. Maybe one day our kids will want to be involved.” His hand rested on her stomach, only the smallest curve visible. None of their friends knew yet, and she could tell it was killing Anthony not to shout it from the rooftops. “It wasn’t your dream to run it. And I’m selfishly glad about that. But we could still keep your father’s legacy alive.”

Tears welled in her eyes, beading on her lashes. Kate had never faced a harder decision than walking away from the thing her father had worked so hard for. Accepting that following in his footsteps wasn’t the only way to honor his memory, especially if it was holding her back from what she was really meant to do.

But Anthony was offering her the chance to do both. To live her life in London, with him, while ensuring that her father’s dream wouldn’t fall into the hands of someone else. Someone who would never understand what it meant, would never see all the sweat and tears and love that lived within its walls.

There weren’t many men who would have known how important her father’s legacy was, but Anthony did. He knew better than anyone how badly Kate wanted to do right by him, even after he was gone. Especially after he was gone, and could only live on through her and Mary and Edwina. And, in six months or so, through their child.

“Are you sure?” she asked, tears spilling onto her cheeks now, and Anthony’s face softened as he brushed them away.

“Of course. I’ve already run the numbers on it. Plus, Mary could retire when she wants and not have to feel guilty. She’ll have the money to live off and know that it won’t just get torn down and turned into ugly flats.”

Taking her hand in both of his, Kate pressed a kiss to his knuckles, feeling almost incapable of containing the affection swelling inside her. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“You’re happy?”

“So happy.”

“Good.” He kissed her, soft and tender, and she knew he felt the same. “I’m dying for chai, want some?”

She chuckled, brushing her nose against his. “Definitely.”

[eternal-love]

Austin and Me

“Swinging London!”

“Wife to the ‘king’. Icon to the world. Destined for more.”

Summary: At 18 years old, she fell in love with Austin, at 20 years old, she became his wife, by 22, she was his doll. In which Cynthia’s life changed drastically after falling head over heels with a man that promised her the moon and the stars. She takes us down the memory lane of what could’ve been— the perfect marriage.

Inspired by the book: Elvis and Me by Priscilla Presley.

I do not condemn any of the portrayals I decide to do about certain people, it’s just fanfiction. And it would be divided in parts.

English isn’t my first language so I’m trying my best!

MASTERLIST

At some point our time in Australia had to end and so did the whole ‘Elvis hell’ had to come to an end. We quickly moved to London so Austin could film another one of his projects. The director had given him a week to recover since he was sick, so we stayed back at the house we rented. It was big and spacious, at that point Austin apologized to me as I brought him tea to bed.

“Honey I’m sorry for how I behaved in Australia.” He said with his now more deep voice. I stayed silent just staring at the wall and he sat up and hugged me. “Everything I did just got out of my hands, it all became a mess. It won’t happen again.”

I accepted his apology, as I had accepted a thousand of them before. Plus, I was more focused on Lori anyways. I tried to enjoy London as much as I could, I went out with Lori and we’d just see stores, I actually bought a bunch of things with Princess Diana’s face on them. It was like my 60’s dream come true, I went through different thrift stores there and I got myself a shopping spree. I came back all excited, I had found myself an original piece from Biba, it was dated to be from the late 60’s. It had a very psychedelic pattern I came back wearing it, a big smile on my face as I entered the house.

Austin was sitting on the couch with Lori, he was playing with one of her dolls, when he saw me, he looked at me up and down.

“Now what is that dress?” He asked, pointing his finger at me. I placed my bags on the floor and twirled once.

“It’s from Biba!” I said excitedly, smiling.

“It doesn’t suit you, baby.”

“What?” I asked as I looked down at my dress, I liked it, it was my style.

“It does nothing for ya. The pattern, the silhouette, it does nothing for your figure. All I see is the goddamn dress. It makes you look outdated. With the hair

My smile dropped, at the start of our relationship my style was what he liked about me, now that we had been married for 3 years, he suddenly hated it? Why? My sole ambition was to please him, to be rewarded by his approval and affection, when he criticized me, it shred me to pieces.

After he tore me apart, my eyes got watery and I really tried to keep my composure and not be that typical ‘sensible’ wife but it really did hurt me.

“Are you quite finished?” I said before storming off to the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

I heard him sigh and then laugh, I looked at myself in the mirror and I started to think of me how he thought about me. That I looked ridiculous and too dressy… I couldn’t believe I was crying over nothing.

—————————— TIME SKIP

I thought London would be a way to amend our marriage and be like we used to be. Guess I was wrong, it’s not that he wasn’t loving or affectionate, but most of the time that affection came with backhanded actions.

Like for instance when he took me to dinner, he told me to get dolled up so I picked my dress carefully, he said he liked me in yellow so I wore a yellow dress. I toned down my makeup more, I used less eyeliner and just a pair of lashes. I sprayed myself with the scent of Chanel No. 5 l'eau, I liked how I looked. Even he complimented.

“Looking like a doll tonight…” His compliment lingered as he kissed my cheek not my lips.

“Thanks. Not looking bad yourself.” I smirked and kissed him back, we had hired a nanny and I was excited to finally have a date night with him.

Did I say date night? I was wrong, when we arrived there were people already waiting for us: Lily-Rose Depp and her friend, Lucas. My face turned bittersweet but I knew that Austin and Lily met on the set of Yoga-Hosers. So I greeted them trying to smile.

She made a nice conversation with me but I couldn’t stop looking at her, she was just so cool. She was smoking inside the restaurant, having a a cup of wine. She was hot, sexy, cool and I was— cute. I never had a mature look in me, I always had a baby face. I stared as her and Austin made conversation, awkward smile on my face as Lily said:

“No, I don’t think I’ve ever seen any of your movies.”

I know she didn’t say it to be rude but it sounded very condescending and I embarrassed myself even more.

“Most of the movies I’ve been in are very indie.” I cringed at myself as I spoke, I didn’t sound cool just pretentious. All of them laughed and I laughed uncomfortably, I kept on eating my food.

“What perfume are you wearing? It smells very elegant? What is it called?” Austin asked Lily as he glanced at me.

“Oh. its Chanel No. 5—l'eau.” Lily smiled as Austin hummed in response, as if he was enjoying the smell. He even whistled.

That’s the perfume I was wearing, why didn’t he noticed it on me? My eye twitched and I cleared my throat.

“Excuse me…” I stood up from my chair and made my way into the restroom. Tears stinging my eyes as I tried to hold them back, not even realizing they had started to fall.

I was not trying to satanize Lily, she had been in quotes “nice”. A bit condescending, sharing glances with her friend, like those glances high school mean girls give to you when you say something. Not straight up laughing at your face but you know damn well they think of you as the butt of the joke.

But Austin seemed so intrigued by her, the way he looked at her and listened intently as she talked, he was always a man of visual contact, like he loved the people he was listening talk. But I didn’t even remember the last time he looked at me like that. I wanted to be like her, I wanted to be as cool as her, as intriguing as she was. And I quickly noticed that how Lily dressed was the way Austin would love for me to dress, the simplicity, elegance, the denim and white, the effortless hair, the simple makeup.

I started to become a it more self conscious as time went on. I wanted to be what he thought was attractive.

—————————— TIME SKIP

I stared at myself in the mirror as I started to rethink everything about my look. This was for the best, it was for a good reason, for our marriage to be alright.

First I picked apart my closet, I looked throughout all my dresses with prints and only stuck to solid colors, pink, blues, purples. I was then picking apart my closet, just taking my sweet time, taking little breaks as Lori craved my attention. I put all the things that really screamed 60’s into boxes and looked at my almost empty closet.

“Get up, baby. We’re going to the hair salon.” I picked up Lori and dressed her up to go to the salon.

I walked with her throughout the soft rain, holding Lori’s hand. Her blonde hair and big smile. We arrived to the hair salon, it was very beautiful, pink, filled with women and I sighed as I got to the secretary in front of it.

“Welcome ma’am. What would you like to do today?” The secretary asked me with a smile.

“I want to get my hair dyed.”

The secretary nodded and assigned me a hairstylist, as he was getting me ready I took a deep breath while looking at myself in the mirror.

“Luv, this hair color is gorgeous.” The hairstylist said to me as he grabbed a piece of my jet black hair. “Why do you want to dye it?” There was truly nothing anyone could do to stop me from cutting my hair off.

“I want a light brown.” I said, the hairstylist nodded and he started getting to work.

I watched him give me a haircut and dye my hair, and afterwards— I was another woman. I had to say bye to my 60’s look and say hi to this ‘modern’ woman he liked. I smiled as I looked at myself in the mirror and my hopeful smile dropped. This makeover came to bite me in the ass, I looked younger, not sexier and hotter.

But I was still hopeful that finally— he’d like me.

Sorry I haven’t been updating this story, I’ve been very busy lately with school, like I was very much drowning in school work and exams.

[thethirdromana]

My journey is all mapped out: a two-week Dracula tour of Europe

A fun fact about me is that I enjoy planning holidays that I have no intention of taking. So, if I had two free weeks and more money than I actually do, here's the Dracula-inspired journey around Europe that I might consider.

(Spoilers under the cut)

Days 1-3: Whitby

This is the opportunity to visit all the key Dracula locations, from a coastal walk to Robin Hood's Bay to gazing out over the village and the sea from Mina and Lucy's favourite spot in the graveyard of St Mary's.

In non-Dracula things, Whitby Goth Weekend happens twice a year in April and October. I recommend the Magpie Café for fish and chips.

Day 4: travel to London

Most of the long train journeys in this plan are delightful overnight sleeper services that will make you feel like you're right there with Jonathan and Mina rattling across Europe. Unfortunately, the journey from Whitby to London is not one of them.

Services are infrequent and the journey takes a solid 5 hours. But the start, where you go very very slowly through the beautiful North York Moors, isn't too bad.

Days 5-7: London

There's a whole heap of things to see in London on a theme by either Dracula or Bram Stoker:

The Lyceum Theatre, where Bram Stoker worked for 27 years

The various houses that Bram Stoker lived in

Golders Green Crematorium, where Bram Stoker's ashes can be visited by appointment

Assorted Dracula settings, such as those the Harkers visited on their London day trip

I'd also suggest a visit to Highgate Cemetery, which may have been part of the inspiration for Lucy's tomb (pop in on Karl Marx and Douglas Adams while you're there), and the British Library for general literary joy.

Exeter is a 2.5 hour train journey from London, so you could also go there, either overnight or for a speedy day-trip, if you're a completist. But personally I'd skip it and spend the time going to see the Lion King at the Lyceum or a Shakespeare play at the Globe instead.

Day 8: Paris

The characters in Dracula take a number of different routes to get across Europe, but I've gone with the route that the Crew of Light take as they go to hunt Dracula down in his home.

That means following the Man in Seat 61 guide for travelling from London to Romania by train, taking an early Eurostar to get yourself to Paris. You'll only have a few hours in Paris before the evening sleeper train, but it should be enough to visit Père Lachaise Cemetery, where Oscar Wilde is buried.

Day 9: Vienna

You'll arrive in Vienna around 10am, then have the day to spend there until another evening train. Personally, I'd spend the time visiting the Hofburg Palace and Sisi Museum; Empress Elisabeth (Sisi) of Austria was famous in the late 19th century and her tragic life story feels fitting for a Dracula tour.

Yes, this plan involves fast trains crossing multiple European countries without much of a breather. Just like they do in Dracula :)

Day 10: Cluj-Napoca

Note: I've visited all the other destinations in this guide, but never been to Romania, though I'd really like to go to Cluj in particular. So from this point on, this is based on googling, not first-hand knowledge.

Cluj, referred to by the German name of Klausenburg in Dracula, is the unofficial capital of Transylvania. Your sleeper train from Vienna should get there around 8.20am, in time to hop on a tram to the Old Town's cluster of breakfast places. I've been told that Cluj is a lively, student-y city with great nightlife and festivals.

Days 11-14: Romania

Time to explore Romania! At this point there's a decision to make. On the one hand, there's strict adherence to the settings of Dracula, in which case you'll want to head to Bistrița, or maybe even extend your journey on to Varna or Galați.

On the other hand, you could go more on vibes. In which case, hire a car to drive through the remoter parts of Transylvania, then turn south to Bran Castle, which has very little actual connection to Dracula but certainly looks the part.

-------

In the unlikely event that anyone actually does this journey off the back of this post, please let me know how it goes. I'd be so thrilled to hear about it!

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 13: Dance of Darkness

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace Burgess x OC

Summary: Lucy joins the Shelby brothers on their trip to London.

Word Count: 3,827

Notes: Warnings for depictions of prostitution, drug use, violence, blood, smut, specifically a threesome, blowjobs, praise kink, and references to past sexual assault. The smut is only at the beginning of the chapter if you want to skip it.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 2: London

Her jaw stretched wide around his cock, eyes watering as he slid down her throat, careful to breathe properly so she didn’t gag around him. Tommy groaned, eyes rolling in his head, hand tangling in her hair, careful not to pull too hard on the dark red strands.

“Just like that, love…” he grunted, hips jerking forward sloppily, letting out an obscene sound as she drew back to focus her sucks more on the sensitive head of his cock. His hand stroked tenderly along her cheek, head tipping backwards, lips parted in a silent cry as she sucked him back down again. He was far too large to fit the entire length into her mouth, so what she couldn’t fit she stroked with her hands.

A circling finger around her clit made her moan, the vibrations causing Tommy to release a sudden spurt of precum down her throat. Pulling off of his cock completely, to just fondle him in her hands, Lucy looked down at where Lizzie had her head buried between her legs, dark mop of hair shifting rhythmically with her movements.

“Ohh…” she continued to stroke Tommy’s cock with her hand, the other grasping at Lizzie’s hair.

“You going to come?” Tommy asked, insistent hand on her cheek forcing her to look up into his ice blue eyes. Lucy nodded wordlessly, feeling it build deep in her lower belly. Gently nudging her palm away from his cock, Tommy bent at the waist, cupping her face with both hands so he could kiss her. “Look at me,” he ordered, voice low and deep in his chest, thumbs petting her cheeks as she moaned. “Look at me while you come, Lucy.”

She made a bubbling, whining sound, body tensing as her orgasm clapped through her violently, like thunder.

“Mm. That’s my good girl,” Tommy nuzzled at her neck, kissing at the sensitive spot there. “What do you want next, love?” 

Lucy’s brows pulled together, struggling to form any sort of coherent thought at the moment. Tommy cocked his head.

“Want to watch me fuck her?”

She nodded, eagerly. He half yanked Lizzie to her feet, spinning her around so that she was bent over, thrusting into her in one swift movement. Lucy moaned, leaning further back in the chair she was seated in, fingers circling over her clit, still oversensitive from her previous orgasm as she watched them. Tommy began to roll his hips forward in steady jerks, Lizzie gasping underneath him. Giving up on touching herself, doubting that she would be able to manage another orgasm anyway, Lucy contented herself to just watch them.

And as they continued fucking, Tommy’s face changed, eyes growing faraway and distant, the exact opposite of the doting, tender lover he’d been a moment ago as he guided her to come with his voice. His face was practically blank, containing almost no emotion at all, thrusts bordering on mechanical. And when he started to come his eyes closed, lips parting, barely any sound emitting from his throat, save for a small sigh.

It was not an uncommon occurrence, for either of them when it came to threesomes. Ever since Grace, it had never been the same. It was hard; to keep her mind from slipping back to that night in Grace’s little flat, whatever whore they’d hired metamorphosing into a figure with blonde waves and dimpled cheeks. She knew Tommy had the same problems; they talked about it, on occasion. Had agreed to continue on with the occasional additions to their trysts, with the hope that perhaps with time, the aching feeling of loss would dissipate.

So far, it hadn't.

At least it wasn’t so much of a problem when it was just the two of them. He was still the same tender, attentive lover she’d known for years, affectionate and loving. Lucy wasn’t sure what she would have done had he responded to her as emotionlessly and coldly as he just did to Lizzie, blatantly picturing someone else as he fucked her. It would probably break her heart.

He pulled out of Lizzie, tucking himself back into his trousers. Stooping, he scooped up Lucy’s discarded knickers and slacks, handing them to her, placing a kiss to her cheek. She leaned into it gratefully, and had this not been a hastily thrown together quickie, she would have insisted on curling up against him.

Shame that there wasn’t time for that right now. He really was quite comfortable to lay on.

Lizzie tugged up her knickers. “You’re going to London now?” she asked, face sweaty and hair all rumpled.

“No,” Tommy began to pull on his waistcoat. Lucy pulled on her knickers and her slacks, fastening the belt and turning in a little circle to try to find where her shoes had gotten to. “Something I have to do first.”

“Here,” Lizzie handed Lucy her shoes, discarded near a desk.

“Ah, thanks.”

“Huh, I’ve got a typewriter like that,” Lizzie approached the object where it was seated on the desk. “Got it out of a catalog. I’m doing a correspondence course.”

Lizzie was often like that; trying to make casual conversation and sticking around for extended periods of time even after the deed was done. At first, Lucy had thought that she was lonely, or maybe just rather unprofessional. None of the other various whores that they employed ever acted like that. 

It didn’t take long for her to realize, however, that there was another reason why Lizzie was so intent on spending as much time as she could in the same space as Tommy. And why she displayed at best clear disinterest towards Lucy outside of the duties that she was paid for, and at worst, a biting, jealous annoyance. She’d begun to soften and warm towards her very slowly, over time, but there was still an edge to some of their encounters. 

It didn’t really bother her, though she did feel a bit bad for the poor girl and her blatant, unrequited love for Tommy. Bordering on an obsession, as of late, actually. She had hoped that with time and a clear, unchanging disinterest from Tommy, Lizzie would perhaps get the hint. But she hadn’t.

“That’s nice, Lizzie,” Lucy said, hoping that the genuine encouragement was clear in her voice.

“I’m learning to do it with my eyes shut. It’s a test you have to do.”

Tommy didn’t respond, pulling his arms through his shoulder holster.

“Will you come back before you go?” Lizzie asked.

He checked his gun, putting it back in its holster. “No.”

Lizzie pressed her lips together, looking down, disappointment clear on her face. Lucy felt a stab of pity for her.

He thumbed out a couple of bills, setting them on the desk in front of Lizzie. The look she gave him could only be described as crestfallen, reaching out to pick up the money.

“I wish…just once you wouldn’t pay me. As if we were ordinary people.”

Oh, honey…didn’t she realize that even if he weren’t paying her for sex, ordinary was never something that Tommy Shelby would be able to be.

“Yeah,” Tommy huffed, turned, and walked out the door.

“It was good seeing you, Lizzie,” Lucy tried. But no matter how many times she’d been entangled with her, she was beginning to realize that there would probably always be a distance between her and Lizzie; a chasm that she wasn’t able to breach. Lucy had to imagine that, along with wishing Tommy wouldn’t pay her, Lizzie also probably wished that Lucy would disappear in a puff of smoke. 

Lizzie shoved the money into her bra. “Yeah.”

“Don’t mind Tommy, he had a rough day.”

“I figured.”

Lucy sighed, moving around the desk, to peck a quick, apologetic kiss to her cheek. “Bye, Lizzie. Take care of yourself.”

“Yeah. Bye, Lucy.”

She followed Tommy out the door without looking back.

∗ ∗ ∗ 

They lurked in the dark shadows, though there was plenty of light thanks to the fires of the factories. Tommy was smoking, eyes fixed on a single man amongst the ones working the night shift.

“Is that him?” Lucy asked, cocking her head.

“Yes.”

“Hm,” she watched as he brought his hammer down on a horseshoe, over and over, sparks flying with every blow. He then dipped the shaped metal in a bucket of liquid, steam hissing and rising to join the smoke from the fires. “Are you sure that you don’t want me to do it?”

Tommy sighed. “It has to be me.”

The man set down the completed horseshoe, leaving his workstation to walk out onto the street, collecting a drink from the barrel set on the side of the road. The flashing lights of the fires around them illuminated Tommy’s face briefly, before it was plunged back into darkness. For a moment, she could have sworn that his eyes were red.

Probably was just the fires reflected in his eyes; though it was hard to be sure.

He stepped out from behind their little cover, pulling his arm free from where hers had been linked with it. She let him go, watching with her hands shoved into her coat pockets to protect them from the chill of night. 

“Eamonn Duggan,” Tommy said. The man had turned to stare at him, barely even given enough time to process that the Devil was uttering his name before Tommy raised his revolver, and blew a hole through his head, the gunshot half drowned out by the boom of the factories. 

Duggan dropped like a stone, a puddle of red forming around his limp, lifeless body.

∗ ∗ ∗ 

The car rumbled beneath him, the gray morning air smoky, gravel crunching under the car’s tires. Lucy curled into his side from her spot in the passenger seat. Squeezing his arm briefly around her, Tommy chanced a look down at her. Green eyes wide, with her red lip caught between her teeth.

“It’s going to be okay,” he told her, stroking her shoulder. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” Lucy’s eyes darted to his and she nodded.

“I know,” her shoulders shivered as she drew in a long, deep breath.

“John, Tommy’s here,” Arthur called as Tommy pulled the car to a stop at the side of the road. 

“Hang on,” shouted a voice from inside the house. Giving Lucy’s shoulder one last squeeze, Tommy killed the engine and they both leapt from the car.

“John!” he shouted in impatience, his foul mood that had been in place since the previous night reawakened. 

“I’m coming!” John shouted. Arthur grumbled. Lucy rolled her eyes, snagging a cigarette from him when he pulled his case from his pocket.

“The fuck is that?” she asked, and Tommy turned to find her staring at Arthur, who was taking a swig of…something from a little glass bottle.

“Seven o’clock, twelve o’clock, ten if I’m still sober. I got it from the doctor,” he said, as if that explained anything. Lighting Lucy’s then his cigarettes, Tommy snatched the bottle from Arthur, glancing over the label. “Keeps me nice and calm.”

Tommy held the bottle to his nose, sniffing at it, then recoiled at the familiar stench. “Same thing they gave us in the trenches to stop us fucking wanking,” he growled in disapproval.

“Are you saying that’s some cock nullifying shit?” Lucy asked, peering over his shoulder to look at the label. Arthur shook his head.

“Polly said it’s good for my temper. It slows me down.”

Polly. Of course this was fucking Polly’s idea. “Arthur, there are some things Polly doesn’t understand,” turning the bottle over, he began to pour the amber liquid out onto the cobblestones. “I need you fast, not slow, eh?” he tossed the bottle into the street, the shatter of glass making him feel a little better.

“Arthur, does this mean that your cock is broken?” Lucy asked, eyes wide and curious and slightly horrified.

“What!? No, of course…of course not!” Arthur sputtered, clearly offended. Tommy raised his brows at the slight hesitation before his brother spoke. Lucy shot him a mischievous look. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes, I’m bloody sure!”

“You just don’t seem–”

“You want to come here and see for yourself how well my cock fucking works!?”

“That’s enough,” Tommy said, carefully adjusting his positioning so that he was between them. Lucy snickered, and he elbowed her, shooting her a look.

Behave.

His little redhead just raised her eyebrows in mirthful teasing. The door to the house behind them opened, then slammed closed.

“She wouldn’t let go of my fucking leg,” John complained.

“I bet that’s not all she won’t let go of,” Arthur grinned. Tommy climbed back into the driver’s seat.

“Right.”

“You know she’s against this, Tom. She’s got opinions,” John started.

“Nothing wrong with opinions, John. Come on,” he beckoned with one hand, his brothers continuing to bicker even as they piled into the passenger seat. Lucy sat on the spot right behind him, her legs hooked against the back of his seat. The backseat was currently obstructed by the covering they had placed over it. Something they weren’t going to be able to remove until they got out of the city. 

“You’re not going to fall off, are you?” John asked her.

“So long as Tommy doesn’t unexpectedly decide to floor it, I think we’ll be fine.”

Arthur leapt up to cling to the outside of the car as the engine roared to life and Tommy began to drive.

“Right!” Arthur bellowed, standing with his feet planted between John’s. “The Peaky Blinders are going on fucking holiday!”      

“Sit down, you mad bastard!” John called, grabbing him by the jacket and tugging him down, laughing and scooting over so that he was sitting in the middle, with Tommy and Arthur on either side of him. 

∗ ∗ ∗ 

“This is so fucking unfair!” Lucy shouted, leaning up against the car, her head turned away politely from where the three Shelby brothers were casually pissing off the edge of the road.

“Hey, if you want to join us, Luce, we don’t mind!” John called back to her. She crossed her arms over her chest, grumbling.

“Oi, Luce, if you’re still doubting that my cock works, why don’t you come over here and let me give you a demonstration?” Arthur bellowed. She shifted uncomfortably, suddenly very aware of the dangerous territory Arthur was unknowingly teetering into. Other women were one thing, but one way to quickly get Tommy’s hackles raised was other men showing her attention. It was a good thing she had no interest in other men save for Tommy, or else it might have been a strong point of contention between them.   

“Arthur, I said enough,” Tommy growled.

Arthur backed off, clearly taken aback at the sudden territorial aggressiveness in his younger brother’s voice. “Sorry, Tom. No harm meant.”

Lucy squinted in the opposite direction, tapping her finger against her arm, and wondered, not for the first time, if Arthur or John had any idea exactly the extent of her secret relationship with their brother.  

Arthur had begun babbling something about the loveliness of the countryside. Tommy finished up first, followed quickly by John, moving to the car to stand beside her. 

“You know, if you really need to go, there are some bushes over there…”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she waved away his concerns. “Just lamenting the unfairness of the female versus male genitalia.”

“We’ll see you in London, Arthur,” John called, then promptly cursed when Tommy yanked back the cover on the backseat, revealing the dead body and the shovels they’d hauled in there under the cover of darkness. Dried blood was still stuck to Eamonn Duggan’s head, plastering his hair to his forehead. Tommy picked up one of the shovels, handing it to John.

“Take this,” he handed the other shovel to Arthur, then another to Lucy, picking up the fourth for himself. “We need to bury him.”

“Who the fuck is that?” John asked.

Tommy waved off the question with only a vague answer in response, wiping a hand down his face. “Come on, we did a thousand of these in France,” he pulled open the back door of the car. “John, grab his head.”

“So we’re not really going to London,” John said. Arthur put down his shovel, pouting.

“Once we bury him, then the holiday begins,” Tommy looked down at the corpse of the man he’d killed. He was trying to hide how he felt about the whole thing, but she could tell.

She knew him well enough to know that the killing had bothered him. Perhaps even more than he realized.

∗ ∗ ∗ 

Inside the club, the band was playing lively, loud jazz. Just the hallway entrance alone was an adventure; men and women snorting cocaine right out there in the open. Leaned up against the banister, two men were passionately kissing. Arthur and John both started at the sight, turning to stare even as they walked past. Out in the main room of the club, men and women were fucking on the sofas for all to see, and the dancefloor was crowded with writhing, gyrating bodies. Cutting through them, they made their way to where tables were set up behind the dance floor, in front of where the band was playing. 

Arthur was shouting something to Tommy about the noise. John was busy leering at several of the women they passed by. Lucy allowed Tommy to pull her along with him, shrinking down into his side in an attempt to avoid physical contact with any of the people they shoved past. A man and a woman were seated at a table, the man’s cock pulled from his pants with the woman’s hand pumping him up and down. Tommy and John shouted at them, and the pair scampered off. Probably into some dark corner to continue fucking. They took their vacant seats at the table, and Tommy ordered a bottle of Irish whiskey for them. 

The drums were pounding. Lucy could have sworn that her heart rate jumped in response to the insistent sound, fiddling with one of the little napkins laid out on the table. She could barely hear Arthur, John, and Tommy talking over the noise. Even though they were seated right beside her. Under the table, Tommy’s hand smoothed over her thigh, rubbing circles into the skin, trying to soothe her. As if he could sense the anxious energy that had been building up inside her since they’d crossed into the city.

A waiter came by with their bottle, John uncorking it and beginning to pour. 

A few men in expensive looking tuxes were approaching them, faces serious. One of them rested his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, a fake smile filtering onto his face as he informed them that they would have to leave. Some of the men in the club had recognized them, and they had gained no permission to come south, let alone to set themselves up in one of Sabini’s clubs. Doing so was considered a provocation. The brothers argued with him, rather civilly, considering how temperamental all three of them could get. Tommy’s hand that was still on her thigh flexed.  

“Peaky scum!” someone shouted, and the centerpiece in the middle of the table was struck by something; either a bottle or a glass, it was hard to tell. Whatever it was, it exploded in a shower of jagged shards. Tommy leapt to his feet, fists pounding once against the table, spinning to bring his fist crashing into the face of the man closest to him. Lucy’s chair flew out from behind her as she rose, ducking a strike from a man behind her before jabbing her fist into his throat, leaving him gasping for air before she kicked him to the ground. Arthur and John had joined in on the fight as well, punching and kicking and slicing. Tearing her cap from her head, she brought it around in a wild arch, slicing through the eyes of the next man to come at her.

She couldn’t hear much save for the music still bursting loudly from the stage, or the blood pounding in her ears. Vaguely, she thought that she heard someone laughing. It might have been Arthur. She stomped on the hand of a man laying on the ground, the bones crunching beneath her heel while he screamed. Someone tried to grab her, and she brought her knee up to crash into his balls, headbutting him hard until he let go of her.

A gun went off, and a few women screamed, the music abruptly coming to a stop. The dancers halted, all turning to look at the scene of the fight.

“Put some ice on ‘em!” Arthur dumped the entire contents of a bucket of ice on a man sprawled out on the floor. Panting, Tommy looked up at the man in the expensive tux, the one who’d told them to leave, holding a gun level to Tommy’s chest.

“Get out.”

Tommy wiped a hand across his mouth, taking a few steps forward. “Yeah?” his voice lowered. “Yeah? You gonna use that?” the challenge was clear in his eyes, as was the knowledge that he knew the man didn’t have it in him. The man in the tux looked around, but didn’t fire. “Didn’t think so,” picking up the bottle they’d bought from the table, he began to stalk through the club, every appearance the monstrous, terrifying Devil that they all believed him to be. “We came here not to make enemies,” he wetted his lips, shaking his head, dark hair mussed from when he’d removed his hat to cut someone with his razors. “No. We came here to make new friends.”

Lucy followed closely behind Tommy, keeping her back straight and shoulders back, chin tilted up. A demon at her master’s side. 

Tommy continued to speak to the crowd, well aware that he had them all in the palm of his hand. “You know where to find us.”

The moment he was done, the four of them whisked silently to the door, then out into the foggy London air.

“I think I lost a tooth,” Arthur announced, when they’d gotten a good deal of distance down the road and away from the club. “I’ll have none left at this rate. Some fucking holiday this is.”

Lucy laughed breathlessly.

“Yeah?” Tommy gave him a light shove. “You lost without your fucking medicine now, Arthur? Here, this’ll fix you,” he handed him the bottle, ribbing with his brothers. But there was an underlying bite to his words. “No more talk of chickens, you hear me?”

“Fuck the chickens,” Arthur chimed in.

“Got fifty quid in my pocket. Let’s paint the town, eh?”

John leapt up in the air, whooping. Lucy laughed again, Tommy’s arm draping around her shoulders as they walked. His right hand was still red with smears of blood.

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[marybeatriceofmodena]

You seem to know so much about phantom and its history in general and this is probably such a stupid question I’m sorry but why the fuck have they closed it on Broadway and the west end? No matter how much I think about it it makes no sense to me that it’s not bringing in enough money bc if people aren’t seeing what are they seeing????? Just close all of NY and London down at this point like ? And now I’m feeling like I should have seen it at least one more time since the news came out but the first time was so perfect I didn’t want to ruin it. But I’ve just been feeling like it’s a publicity ploy? They’re gonna say they’re taking it off then bring it back in 5 years shinier… but no one else seems to think so. Now I’m feeling like an idiot for not seeing it 5 times in a row even though it’s in my back yard.

Anyway. I’m sorry just had to get that out somewhere I’m sorry it was to you

Okay, so, right off the bat - the West End production is technically still running. It's not exactly like the original, but it's still there (and it has a VERY solid cast as of now so I would still absolutely recommend to go and see it if you ever have the opportunity. If you're scared of getting the restaged tour, it's really not that). There are a few differences with staging, the wigs are different from what they used to be, the orchestra has been reduced, some of the choreography is a bit different - but it's largely the same show.

What *did* happen in the West End was that like all productions, it closed during COVID, the cast and crew waited to be able to go back, and Cameron Mackintosh (aka the producer, aka Satan) invited all of them to a Zoom call, where they learned that they were all fired and that they'd be replaced by a new cast and crew. That included people who worked in the orchestra for nearly 30 years, Philip Griffiths who played Reyer since, like... forever, and I'm skipping a bunch. The reason why CamMack did that was to reopen with a smaller orchestra, a few reductions here and there, and obviously, with a younger cast and crew working around, salaries will be lesser on the basis of experience. And understandably, a lot of people didn't want to come back and go through the whole hiring/auditioning process all over again. Philip Griffiths for instance basically went: "Fuck it, I played the role for 30 years and I shouldn't have to audition for it" (and he's correct).

Obviously, COVID has been tough on the arts industry in general, and there are several shows on Broadway who closed as a result of it (the whole deal with The Music Man revival with Hugh Jackman was to make as much money as possible to recoup for losts, because anything that has Hugh Jackman in it or The Music Man itself has always sold very well on Broadway). Phantom was not one of those shows that was struggling, because it's kind of like Wicked, Chicago, Hamilton, or any Disney show in the sense that it will reliably make money no matter what. It's expensive to set up and stage as opposed to, say, Six, but it still very much made a profit.

Cameron Mackintosh didn't really give a reason as to why he was closing it (at least none that I'm aware of, or if there is, it's probably PR fluff), but if I had to make a guess, it's probably going to reopen in a few years, just like the West End production did, but with the reductions I've mentioned above, with a cheaper orcheatra, cheaper crew, etc. and you get a nice little opportunity to have it get nominated at the Tony Awards for Best Revival.

So yeah anyway eat the rich

[hello---cello]

I just found your blog via a retweet from someone I follow. What is Intern AU?

Also, does the AU affects the Ridonculous Race?

Oh hey first ask ever how fun!

Also, I have no idea how you saw that on twitter since I don't have one lol but ah well.

And as for your question, I'll do you one better and give a rough outline for the AU's timeline (If you only care about the RR stuff, skip to the end.)

So, during TDI Noah starts to help around the Playa De Losers a lot, first by chance and then because the interns began to subconsciously rely on him since he is a responsible dude.

Then after the TDI special and Noah fails to qualify for TDA, Chris approaches him with the offer to become an intern behind the scenes. He still makes his Aftermath appearances, but he's also managing the staff and other logistical stuff. He also gets to hire Eva as security, since a certain purple haired girl keeps trying to sneak onto set.

Then, he gets into TDWT, and instead of going home in London, Noah gets out in "Anything Yukon can do, I can do better!". How? Chris rigs it against him and basically forces him to get eliminated, orchestrating the challenge to make Noah look bad by making things harder for him.

Then when Noah gets eliminated, Chris brings him back as an intern. since he can't hide behind the scenes (plane lol) he gets to make small cameos on camera while he also does his other stuff.

While on the plane he also discovers Ezekiel in the cargo hold, and after talking with Chris, invites him to the intern team. But Zekes role is to pretend to be feral like in the show. so that stuff still happens just know Zeke is acting.

Anyways, yadayadayada WT happens, then ROTI (Where Dakota also gets to be an intern lol) then Pakhitew (Where Topher imprints himself on the intern team and he is reluctantly absorbed into it) and after being through so much he decides he needs a break.

But unfortunately for Noah, his contract says he needs to work for the network for another year at least before he can get a break, so he gets. creative.

RR is an up-and-coming show produced by the same networks as TD, and Noah proposes the idea of the "Reality TV pros" As a way to get out of the studio. Owen's just happy to spend time with his little buddy.

So, Noah still gets to join the RR cast like normal, BUT the difference here is he is more overworked and only taking the competition seriously cause he knows as soon as he gets out, he's gonna be slated as an intern for the remainder of RR.

He'd also get out later than he does in canon, and other teams' placements would change too? Also, I think Nemma would just become a close platonic friendship during RR but could develop into a relationship after the show. I feel like Noah knows better than to date while the camera's rolling lol. Idk I hadn't really thought as far as RR until now.

But yeah, that's the timeline of the AU as of now, I know it's not completely what you asked for but I hope it covered your question!

Also I'll post more au stuff eventually, but, yaknow, life and stuff sometimes makes things very difficult.