#unique places to visit in London

[idlesuperstar]

Donald was the best partner in movies I ever had. We were brothers and we loved each other. We had such a deep, sublime chemistry. There was nothing intellectual about it, just this amazing natural harmony. I first met him in the commissary at 20th Century Fox when Robert Altman told us to have lunch together after I’d been cast in M*A*S*H. At first I thought: I don’t think this guy likes me. But it was just the opposite. The thing was: we were such opposites. I’m a Jew from Brooklyn and he was a Canadian from Nova Scotia. But it was perfection: never any conflict, just bread and butter – a relationship that felt like a miracle. Making M*A*S*H made us immediately close because while everyone else was working with Bob Altman, we worked for Bob Altman. He kept us a little segregated. We were both really unsure about the improvisation, the direction of the movie and Bob’s approach in general. Donald was hired well before me, but once I signed on we had the same deal: no less than second billing, and the same money. Later in production, Richard Zanuck, who was at that time running 20th Century Fox, said they wanted to give me first billing. I thought: “Oh that’s a nice honour. But Donald is my friend! I’m not going to be opportunistic – he was here first and should have first billing and I’ll stay in second place.” That’s what Donald meant to me. I never told him about that. A few years later, I turned down the screenplay for the movie that became S*P*Y*S, about two bumbling CIA agents. Then Donald called and said: “Would you do it with me?” And I said: “Oh that’s a different story. Of course!” On the first day of shooting in London, we drove to work together and he said: “What do you think of the script?” I rolled the window down, threw it out and said: “It’s a piece of junk. The only way this will work is if we swap parts.” But the producers could not digest that, so we just did the picture. Yet we did bring some of our own ideas to the table. There wasn’t an ending, for instance - so Donald and I agreed that we would just walk up the road with our backs to the camera and sing Side By Side. We worked together and we succeeded together, but we didn’t socialise very much – though having the opportunity to develop a relationship with some of his family was a total joy. Once, Donald was making a movie in the Bahamas and I came to visit because I had a week off from making The Long Goodbye and was interested in his leading lady, Jennifer O’Neill. Kiefer, his son, was five or six and Donald introduced us. Kiefer wanted me to stay, so when I said goodbye, I said: “Kiss me, Kiefer.” He had an ice cream cone in his hand and put it on my face – he kissed me with his cone. Donald was a true human being – and not all of us are. He could identify with any of us. His presence and his nature, his life and his mind are an asset for everyone. We all come and go physically, but as a being, he was really special and unique. I don’t put anything in the past. With me, it’s all in the present. My feeling is that for as long as I am living, Donald will be with me. I have no doubt about that, and I’m not being sentimental. I can see Donald now. I will see Donald for ever.

Elliot Gould - Donald Sutherland remembered by Keira Knightley, Elliott Gould, Ralph Fiennes and more in The Guardian

[dramioneasks]

HP FESTS: Dramione Month (Part 6)

Dramione Month 2024:

Eclipse by galaxy_skies - M, one-shot - Three days later, when he feels a little less cursed and a lot less hungover, Draco scours the Malfoy library for books on memory charms and owls her a list of titles via Potter’s address at Grimmauld Place as repentance. Two days after that, Hermione sends him a book on curses and a London address that he assumes is hers as forgiveness.

The Mentor by arborlibrary - M, one-shot - Several months after the Battle of Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy is assigned to be a mentor to Hermione Granger as she prepares for a fight to the death against her friends. He goes to visit her in the dungeons to get a headstart, but learns that none of the contestants have any idea what he's talking about.

Pale, Rich, Jealous, Extremely Attractive by arborlibrary - G, one-shot - “Granger, this book is objectively bad.” He glanced up at her from where his copy was propped on his desk before him; it was the first time she hadn’t scolded him for being off-task at work. “I know! That’s what makes it so good!” “Bella’s sartorial sense alone is enough to have her Avada’d. Seriously, what’s with all the beige?” // Or, Draco is intrigued by the book Hermione has started reading at work, and he can't help but share his opinions as he goes along.

Broom Bunny by arborlibrary - T, one-shot - Hermione Granger has a type: Quidditch players. Her latest crush is the least likely yet.

Amends by galaxy_skies - T, one-shot - “You look nice when you smile,” she says, because her parents raised her to be bold and an ugly old hat put her in a house meant for the brave and because she was never afraid to speak her mind when the truth was right in front of her, shining like the light reflecting in Draco’s eyes.

His Home by Lexxus - M, one-shot - Draco and Hermione fell in love one ordinary Thursday ten years after the end of the war. Their story had a rainy beginning, a sunny middle, and a snowy end. [WARNING: CHARACTER DEATH]

in every universe (but one) by thisisdd (thisisnotdd) - E - Collection of drabbles and one shots that served as entries for Dramione Month 2024 -- originally posted on my twitter @thisisntdd.

The Various Employment of Questionable Tactics by augustaoctavia - E, 5 chapters - What started off as a simple missive between a professor and a student's mother soon spiraled into something so much more--something so unexpected. Loner Potions Master and Professor at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy, discovers his precocious student has pilfered ingredients from his private stores. After a failed attempt to communicate about her misdeed without descending into childish bickering, Draco and Hermione Granger agree to discuss the matter that evening at the Hog's Head. Whiskey will be required to get through this conversation, he can already tell.

jamais vu by euphrasie_pont - E, one-shot - jamais vu (noun) – the opposite of déjà vu; the experience of being unfamiliar with someone or something you know should be familiar; the illusion that the familiar is being encountered for the first time. - When Hermione reconnects with Draco Malfoy and starts spending time with him again, he’s so different he might as well be an entirely new person. Of course, that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea for her to go and fall in love with him. But during the crisp metamorphosis of autumn, when the leaves are changing and maybe he is too, Hermione can’t help but do it anyway.

Hermione Memoria by MarinaJune - M, 10 chapters - Hermione leads a happy life, one full of friends, books, and all the unique coffee mugs she can find. There are moments, however, where she's struck by a sharp sensation of remembering...something. Or, perhaps, someone.

Dare you do it? by Hyemi_28 - E, one-shot - Hermione plays a Truth or dare game with the girls, and she has to sneak into the Slytherin locker room and has to bring a proof, that she was there... but suddenly the Slytherin team arrives back...

Busy Nights and Moving Flights by terryboot - E, one-shot - The vanishing steps at Hogwarts usually bring misfortune to those who encounter them, but today is Professor Malfoy's lucky day. – or a ‘stuck in something' kink PWP

Perfect Day by CarolineSedgefield - T, one-shot - A drabble written for Dramione Month's careers week, in which Draco and Hermione's vocations may not be what they initially seem.

Falmouth Falcons - Player No. 4 by Sessediz - T, one-shot - Hermione loses a bet to Ginny, meaning she has to both attend her Holyhead Harpies match that weekend, but also pay full attention without the distraction of a book. Her apt attention to the game sparks an interest, and not just her own.

Careers Free Day by Peaches_on_Waffles - G, one-shot - Hermione seeks out medical attention to help with a rash.

Disarmed by You by anna_hawk - G, one-shot - In the aftermath of a heated duel, Auror partners Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, are forced to confront the unspoken feelings they've been hiding.

Brewing for Attention by anna_hawk - G, 11 chapters - After years of playful rivalry and tension, Draco Malfoy finally devises a ridiculous yet charming plan to get Hermione Granger’s attention—by staging a series of potion mishaps that land him in St. Mungo’s repeatedly. Hermione, now a busy and brilliant healer, finds herself reluctantly amused by Draco’s antics. What begins as exasperation turns into something deeper as she realizes Draco's efforts were all to spend more time with her.

Heal me now by Hyemi_28 - M, one-shot - After years of working as a successful healer at St. Mungo, Draco Malfoy saved Auror Granger's life one night... After he was been appointed to her personal healer, his life turned upside down, when they started their secret relationship at the examination room...

Paper Dolls by Sessediz - M, one-shot - Boy meets girl, girl meets boy . . . it's a tale as old as time, but time isn't what's being studied by these Unspeakables.

adventures in cursebreaking by greenappletheory - M, one-shot - Hermione Granger seeks out the assistance of Cursebreaker and ex-husband, Draco Malfoy, after entangling herself with an unknown and most definitely cursed object. This takes place eight months after Hermione’s 45th Birthday, so consider this a part two and my formal apology.

All It Takes (Is One Kiss) by Lexxus - E, one-shot - On New Year's Eve, Pansy's "one-kiss-theory" leads Draco and Hermione to a dark corner of a Muggle club, where one quickly becomes much, much more.

All That Glitters by AsIfYouCouldOutReadMe - E, one-shot - Hermione Granger is days away from passing the most important legislation of her storied career with the Ministry, but today is her Anniversary and Draco has just the thing to distract her. OR Draco dresses up as Edward Cullen to cheer up his busy bride

Cursed and Charmed by anna_hawk - G, 7 chapters - When a dangerous cursed artifact surfaces at a high-stakes auction, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy find themselves reluctantly working together to destroy it. What begins as a mission of duty quickly evolves into something unexpected as they navigate old rivalries, buried secrets, and a tension that neither can ignore.

Healers/Doctors by Peaches_on_Waffles - G, one-shot - A Healer from St. Mungo's is summoned to Azkaban. [WARNING: Character Death]

Full moon by Hyemi_28 - M, one-shot - Draco thought Hermione died so he wanted to follow her to the death, but suddenly a small body slammed into his embrace.

[dc-marvel-life]

That Dang Snake

Pairing: Hermione Granger

Summary: Hermione starts to get the attention of an unlikely Slytherin girl

Word Count: ~2k

A/N: Final Part! Or is it....... Send in request

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Narrator POV

It has been a few weeks after Hermione and Y/N’s dates, and things are going great between the two. They have gone on serval dates in Hogsmeade or London. They very much enjoy being in each other’s company. Hermione took Y/N to her parents, which surprised them. They thought Hermione would bring Ron home and say they were together one day. 

Hermione’s parents didn’t care that Y/N was a girl. They were just delighted that Hermione was happy. They also loved Y/n, who was very charming towards them and won them over.

Hermione even helped Y/N find a new place to live since she got kicked out of her parent’s house and the family name. They found a small, cute place in London where Y/N can stay on breaks once she finishes school. It is close enough to Hermione to come and visit and even stay the night if she wants.

Now Y/N and Hermione are chilling in the Gryffindor girl’s dorm on Hermione’s bed. Hermione is reading a book while Y/N is working on a unique project that Hermione doesn’t know about.

“So, are you ever going to tell me what you have been working on for the past week,” Hermione says, peeking over her book.

“Not yet, it is a surprise, and you’ll have to wait a bit longer,” Y’N says, continuing to work. Hermione lets out a loud sigh and closes her book.  She climbs her way to Y/N and puts aside her project. 

“Please be careful, Mione, it is very important,” Y/N protests while Hermione sets it aside. Once Hermione puts it aside, she sits on Y/N’s lap and wraps her arms around Y/N’s neck. Hermione leans in and starts to make out with Y/N. Y/N gives in and kisses her back. After about a minute, Hermione pulls away and looks Y/N in the eye.

“So are you going to tell me now,” Hermione says, inches away from Y/N’s lips. 

“No, just wait until later tonight, and it will be all done,” Y/N says, then lean in to continue to kiss Hermione, but Hermione pulls back.

“Let me try and persuade you another way,” Hermione says and tries to lift up Y/N’s shirt, but Y/N stops her. Y/N and Hermione have been going on dates for about a few weeks now, and they aren’t officially dating. They haven’t had sex yet, and the only thing they have done was made out. Y/N did not want to rush into things since they weren’t officially together.

“Did I do something because you never want to go further? Do you not find me attractive anymore?” Hermione questions Y/N and Y/N feels instantly bad.

“No, not at all, Mione” Y/N kisses Hermione on the lips, then pepper kisses her face.

“You are the most attractive girl I have ever seen. Don’t ever think like that again,” Y/N comforts Hermione.

“Are you sure?” Hermione asked, making sure.

“Yes, I am,” Y/N says, then reaches over to grab the project she had been working on for a while.

“Read through this but be careful because I haven’t added the final pieces,” Y/N says, handing Hermione a handcrafted book. Hermione looks over the book and looks at the craftsmanship that is shown.

“I made it all myself. I could make the book from leather that Hagrid gave me and even made the paper from old newspapers and notes that I had lying around,” Y/N says proudly and watches Hermione open it.

Hermione opens that book to see Y/N’s handwriting. The book is a long love note to Hermione, and on the last page, it says, ‘Will you be my girlfriend?’ Y/N waits until Hermione reads the whole book. While Hermione reads, she starts to tear up because Y/N wrote so many nice things. Hermione finishes the book and closes it gently, then stares at Y/N.

“So, do you like the book?” Y/N asks, and Hermione hugs her.

“I love the book so much, Y/N, thank you. Also, yes, I will be your girlfriend,” Hermione says while hugging Y/N in her lap.

A few days have passed, and everyone knows Y/N and Hermione are dating. Most people are happy for them, but some aren’t happy. The people are the girls that wanted to be with Y/N and Ron. Ron was never a fan of Y/N, but now Y/N is dating Hermione.

Y/N now stands up for the gang if Draco comes around to mess with them. Now the gang can see how nice Y/N really is and how much happier she is with Hermione. Everyone can also see how Hermione is much happier and more relaxed since dating Y/N. 

Y/N even started to eat meals with the gang at the Gryffindor table with Greengrass. It was a way for Y/N to be closer to Hermione and be close to her friends since Y/N is still being excluded from Slytherin. 

Y/N didn’t care too much about being excluded; she was okay as long as she had Hermione. 

Now everyone is talking about the upcoming Yale Ball. 

“So Hermione, what are you going to wear to the ball,” Ginny asks.

“Well, I don’t know yet because someone hasn’t asked me to the dance yet,” Hermione says, looking over at Y/N.

“You know you still have to ask your girlfriend to the dance even if you are dating right,” Greengrass says.

“Yes, I know that, Greengrass. Just waiting for the right moment to ask her,” Y/N says.

“The ball is just a week away. You should as soon, or someone else will take her from you,” Ginny says jokingly.

“Yeah, this is not how you treat a woman. Hermione, if Y/N doesn’t ask you, then I can be your date,” Ron says hopefully, and Y/N gives him a death stare.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that, Ron. Maybe you should focus on getting an actual date and not try to steal my girlfriend away,” Y/N says, tired of Ron trying to step in.

“I need to get going and prepare for my next class,” Y/N stands up and grabs her stuff, “I’ll meet you tonight, so wait up for me, please,” Y/N says to Hermione and gives her a kiss. Hermione nods and watches Y/N walk out of the great hall.

Later that night, Y/N sneaks into the Gryffindor dorm and enters Hermione’s room.

“Hey, Mione,” Y/N says, approaching Hermione and kissing her quietly, so they don’t wake up the others.

“Hey, why did you want me to wait for you?” Hermione ask.

“Well, wouldn’t that ruin the surprise,” Y/N says, smiling, and Hermione raises her eyebrows.

“Come on, and I will explain later,” Y/N says with her hand out. Hermione grabs it and follows Y/N outside the castle.

“What are we doing out here now?” Hermione questions.

“Just wait for a second, and you will see,” Y/N says, looking up. Hermione looks up to see what Y/N is looking at and sees a hippogriff flying. Hermione is in awe. The hippogriff sees Y/N and comes down to her. They greet each other, and Y/N starts to pet it.

“This beautiful beast's name is Missy. Missy, I want you to meet someone special; this is Hermione,” Y/N says to Missy, and Missy bows to Hermione. Hermione is shocked and bows back at Missy.

“This is going much better than I expected,” Y/N points out. 

“Where did you find her” Hermione questions while petting Missy.

“One day, I needed some supplies in the forbidden forest. I saw Missy tangled up in some trap. She was injured, so I nursed her back to health. Now she comes and sees me every night,” Y/N says, smiling at Missy.

“So that’s what you have been doing late at night and not getting any sleep,” Hermione says, and Y/N giggles.

“Yep, I mean, I had to practice riding her before I took you on a ride,” Y/N says, looking at Hermione, who is shocked.

“You know how to ride her?” Hermione questions while Y/N climbs onto Missy. 

“Yes, I do. I have been practicing for the past two weeks. I wanted to show you the views, which are almost as beautiful as you,” Y/N says with her hand out, waiting for Hermione. Hermione blushes and takes Y/N's hand to help get on the back of Missy. Once Hermione and Y/N were securely on Missy, they took off into the night. It was an extraordinary scene flying over Hogwarts and seeing everything simultaneously; it was perfect.

“So, how do you like it?” Y/N asks Hermione while slowing down Missy.

“This is amazing! Thank you so much for taking me up here,” Hermione hugs her tighter.

“I am happy that you like it. The reason why I brought you up here is to ask you to the Yale Ball. I know it is not big and fancy like everyone else being asked out. I wanted this to be an inmate and personal” Y/N smiles at Hermione, hoping she will say yes.

“This is very inmate and personal, so I must give you that. Plus, I would rather have a more personable asking than going big and letting everyone know. This is perfect, and I couldn’t have asked for it any better. Now I do have to see if I am busy with the dance. I have had many people ask me out,” Hermione says, trying to hold back a laugh. 

“As long as those people aren’t Ron, then I am okay, and I have to have the first dance,” Y/N says, looking back at Hermione.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that because I will only be dancing with you,” Hermione says, leaning forward to kiss Y/N on the cheek. Y/N starts to cheer in happiness, and Hermione laughs at her girlfriend. 

Flashforward to the ball, Hermione wears a cute green dress, and Y/N wears a red jumpsuit to represent each house. They have a magical time together, dancing, hanging with friends, and having a little drinking involved.

During a slow dance, they look into each other’s eyes with so much love for each other.

“You know, I wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else, but you're right,” Y/N says to Hermione.

“I know, my sweets, and I couldn’t imagine being here with anyone else either” Hermione leans up and kisses Y/N. Y/N kisses Hermione back with so much passion.

“I am ready for the next step with you,” Y/N says, looking into Hermione’s eyes, but Hermione looks at Y/N, a little confused.

“What do you mean by that,” Hermione asked to understand more.

“I am ready to make love to you,” Y/N says and kisses Hermione.

“Ooo,” Hermione says after the kiss. Maybe it was the alcohol in her, but Hermione was ready to act now. She takes Y/N’s hand and leads them out of the ball.

“Mione, where are we going? The party is still going on,” Y/N says, standing in place, not moving until Hermione gives her answer.

“So, do you want to go to mine or your room?” Hermione says with her eyebrows raised, holding a flask that Ginny brought. 

“My room,” Y/N says and runs to her room. Hermione follows, giggling all the way there. They get to the Slytherin door, and Y/N says the password to reveal the door. They walk into the common room and head up to Y/N’s room. 

“Are you sure you are ready for this?” Y/N asks Hermione one more time. 

“Yes, I am,” Hermione says, pushing Y/N onto her bed. Hermione gets on top of her.

Taglist: @fanficaddictcore

[centrally-unplanned]

Another big stop in Tokyo for me was Jimbocho Book Town! It is a neighborhood of, depending on who you ask, up to 400 generally-secondhand bookstores flanked by some of the major universities in Tokyo. The local government even prints out maps of the stores to help people find them all:

Which, you will note, is not 400 stores, because the process of becoming an "official" Jimbocho Town Bookstore is an intensely political operation run by local stakeholders with tons of fights over what should qualify and what rights that entails - never change humanity!

"Book Towns" used to actually be quite a common thing, and they peaked during the literary boom of the late 19th century. Figuring out "what books existed" was a hard task, and to do serious research you needed to own the books (you weren't making photocopies), so concentrating specialty bookstores in one area made sense to allow someone to go to one place and ask around to find what they need and discover what exists. It was academia's version of Comiket! Modern digital information & distribution networks slowly killed or at least reduced these districts in places like Paris or London, but Jimbocho is one of the few that still survives.

Why it has is multi-causal for sure - half of this story is that Tokyo is YIMBY paradise and has constantly built new buildings to meet demand so rents have been kept down, allowing low-margin, individually-owned operations to continue where they have struggled in places like the US. These stores don't make much money but they don't have to. But as important is that Japan has a very strong 'book collector' culture, it's the original baseball cards for a lot of people. The "organic" demand for a 1960's shoujo magazine or porcelainware picture book is low, but hobbyists building collections is a whole new source of interest. Book-as-art-collection powered Jimbocho through until the 21st century, where - again like Comiket - the 'spectacle' could give it a lift and allow the area to become a tourist attraction and a mecca for the ~cozy book hoarder aesthetic~ to take over. Now it can exist on its vibes, which go so far as to be government-recognized: In 2001 the "scent wafting from the pages of the secondhand bookstore" was added to Japan's Ministry of Environment's List of 100 Fragrance Landscapes.

Of course this transition has changed what it sells; when it first began in the Meiji area, Jimbocho served the growing universities flanking it, and was a hotpot of academic (and political-polemic) texts. Those stores still exist, but as universities built libraries and then digital collections, the hobby world has taken over. Which comes back to me, baby! If you want Old Anime Books Jimbocho is one of the best places to go - the list of "subculture" stores is expansive.

I'll highlight two here: the first store I went to was Kudan Shobo, a 3rd floor walk-up specializing in shoujo manga. And my guys, the ~vibes~ of this store. It has this little sign outside pointing you up the stairs with the cutest book angel logo:

And the stairs:

Real flex of Japan's low crime status btw. Inside is jam-packed shelves and the owner just sitting there eating dinner, so I didn't take any photos inside, but not only did it have a great collection of fully-complete shoujo magazines going back to the 1970's, it had a ton of "meta" books on shoujo & anime, even a doujinshi collection focusing on 'commentary on the otaku scene' style publications. Every Jimbocho store just has their own unique collection, and you can only discover it by visiting. I picked up two books here (will showcase some of the buys in another post).

The other great ~subculture~ store I went to was Yumeno Shoten - and this is the store I would recommend to any otaku visiting, it was a much broader collection while still having a ton of niche stuff. The vibes continued to be immaculate of course:

And they covered every category you could imagine - Newtype-style news magazine, anime cels, artbooks, off-beat serial manga magazines, 1st edition prints, just everything. They had promotional posters from Mushi Pro-era productions like Cleopatra, nothing was out of reach. I got a ton of books here - it was one of the first stores I visited on my second day in Jimobocho, which made me *heavily* weighed down for the subsequent explorations, a rookie mistake for sure. There are adorable book-themed hotels and hostels in Jimbocho, and I absolutely could see a trip where you just shop here for a week and stay nearby so you can drop off your haul as you go.

We went to other great stores - I was on the lookout for some 90's era photography stuff, particularly by youth punk photographer Hiromix (#FLCL database), and I got very close at fashion/photography store Komiyama Shoten but never quite got what I was looking for. Shinsendo Shoten is a bookstore devoted entirely to the "railway and industrial history of Japan" and an extensive map collection, it was my kind of fetish art. My partner @darktypedreams found two old copies of the fashion magazine Gothic & Lolita Bible, uh, somewhere, we checked like five places and I don't remember which finally had it! And we also visited Aratama Shoten, a store collecting vintage pornography with a gigantic section on old BDSM works that was very much up her alley. It had the porn price premium so we didn't buy anything, but it was delightful to look through works on bondage and non-con from as far back as the 1960's, where honestly the line between "this is just for the fetish" and "this is authentic gender politics" was...sometimes very blurry. No photos of this one for very obvious reasons.

Jimbocho absolutely earned its rep, its an extremely stellar example of how history, culture, and uh land use policy can build something in one place that seems impossible in another operating under a different set of those forces. Definitely one of the highlights of the trip.

[hylianengineer]

It's been months since I visited London and I still think about it sometimes.

London is bizarre because you can go there, having never been in the UK in your whole life, and recognize landmarks from your childhood storybooks. You can know the names of the royal family members the buildings are named after, but not why you know them.

London is a city that is still very palpably the seat of one of the largest, most powerful empires in recent history. You can feel it. You can see it in the ostentatious wealth and the cultural gravity. London exists as much in myth as it does in reality, and if you grew up anywhere that was once connected to the British Empire, or even anywhere particularly globalized, you probably know that myth somewhere deep within your brain. It's weird.

Some parts of it are very beautiful and some are very disturbing and many are both at once. It's ancient and modern and touristy and messy and it's world-class museums and fast food restaurants all crammed in together.

There's no place like London - and I mean this both in the Sweeney Todd sense and the complementary one. ("There's a hole in the world like a great black pit / And the vermin of the world inhabit it / And it's morals aren't worth what a pig can spit / And it goes by the name of London!")

It's weird to think about as a USAmerican, because London isn't unique in this position as a huge, cosmopolitan, deeply complicated city - New York is another example. There is everything in New York, good and bad, but it's easier for me to overlook the bad parts presumably because I'm USAmerican and have a cultural blindspot the size of the Empire State Building. It is also a bit different I think because New York isn't the seat of US government - although, fun fact, it almost was. So it doesn't get the same reputation, the same close ties to empire - it does have them, it just hides them a bit better. I mean, it is home to Wall Street, for starters, and it attracts rich and famous people just like London does. It has its bastions of incomprehensible wealth and privilege, and also a great deal of poverty. I guess big cities are just like that - or all cities, really, but the farther up the totem pole you go, the bottom seems farther and farther away. Sorta creepy actually. I know New York's geography and landmarks even better than I know London's, but it wasn't such a shock seeing them in person because, sure, I'd never been there, but at least it was the same country. I knew plenty of people who'd been there.

Also, New York City is recent. London is bafflingly old - New York, like most of America, likes to pretend nothing ever happened there before about 1500, and nothing of consequence for at least a hundred years after that. That's bullshit, of course, but it means the dominant (colonial) cultural narrative many of us have grown up with has only four-hundred-ish years of history to work with, max. You go to London and see individual buildings much older than that. It's bizarre, as an American, not even because we don't have things that old here, but since our colonialist narrative ignores things that old, they aren't often discussed with the same sort of reverence (it's unfair and stupid but that's how it works). Like, that's stupid, all of earth is equally incomprehensibly old to us humans (don't come at me for this, geologists, I know the age of rocks is actually hugely variable but we weren't here for most of that!). Anywhere you stand on this planet has as much history as London or New York or anywhere else but we don't think about that because the cultural narratives we're told don't encourage us to think about it that way. That's weird. What momentous events happened right where I'm standing that I'll never know about?

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Lambert’s stuck in a rut. His life’s going nowhere and his dreams never seem to leave the A1 architectural drawings he carries around in his rucksack. He has Aiden’s bar, his respectably placed outer London apartment and his Japanese Peace Lily. That is… until he meets a tall, silent bar tender with shoulders like the Qinghai-Tibetan plateau and eyes like twin suns.

CW: mutism, war injuries, Lambert running his mouth. Set up of a longer work which has never seen the light of day, but I like the opening a lot.

Lambert had been visiting the same shitty, rundown bar since graduating. Three years bachelors, two years postgrad, twelve months running after a middle-aged racist with a caffeine addiction—internship—and then five years of… this. No one prepared you for the heady heights of listless adulthood; that odd grey area between being a cutting edge, aspiring young whippersnapper and a washed out, lonely old man with seven cats. Lambert was staring down the barrel of thirty simultaneously wondering where the fuck his life was sprinting off to and what the fuck he had even done with it to begin with.

Every night he pulled a late one at the office labouring over his distant dream of sustainable, affordable housing for the working class that wasn’t a lifeless block of concrete. You know, the kind that drew inspiration from the hallowed corridors of nineteenth century Newgate prison. The kind of place that leeched the life and happiness from every one of its occupants until they were as grey and empty as their home. Someone’s community was meant to be at their heart, something that defined them. Like the roots of a tree—you know, the person being the… tree. Look, he was never so good at conceptualising his vision in words. He’d sooner draw you a fucking picture. Which is where we were fucking at right now.

Lambert had become an architect on the back of a dream he’d had sitting on a swing set in the condemned children’s playground at the very centre of his council estate. Half the kids he’d known had given up because life was grey, drugs were easy, so what’s the fucking point, right? If only they were faced with more than the grey—

That dream had driven him through his studies like a man possessed—by a demon comprising of an unhealthy amount of Monster and a stubborn, spiteful drive to succeed—followed by that tedious twelve months as a gopher, but now he was here… or there, or whatever spatial demonstrative you wanted to fucking use, he didn’t know what to do. The dream had shuddered to a halt. Red tape, politics. The kind of thing that stood fast in the face of an outsider. Because he would always be an outsider. Something—something—attitude problem.

The same thoughts gathered like a storm cloud over his head as he trudged down the steps to Aiden’s. Both the name of the place and the owner, because Aiden straddled the line between new money glam and old east end rust in a way that was both tackey and unique. He managed to pull it off somehow. Lambert threw himself down in his usual stool, dumping his satchel full of drawings at unceremoniously at his feet, and thumped his forehead on the bar. “Usual, Sal.”

Sal wasn’t his real name. His real name was Derek. But everyone called him Sal because of the time he’d stepped in for the chef, cooked the Friday night chicken curry and given everyone salmonella. Environmental health nearly had a fucking field day but, much like many of Aiden’s licensing and business woes, the matter had cleared up mysteriously overnight.

The glass tumbler settled gently on a place mat in front of Lambert’s head. He heard the pop of the cork and the slosh of expensive whiskey—he’d worked his nuts off for his salary, so he could drink it away if he wanted to, thank you very fucking much—and then nothing. No greeting. No, “‘ello mate, what’s the story?”

Lambert lifted his head to rip on Sal and ask if someone had half-inched his tongue out his ugly mug, only to almost fall from his stool in shock. The man standing before him wasn’t Sal. Nothing like him in fact. Easily clear of six feet with a few inches to spare, a scruffy mop of dark hair and a face like someone had tried to pry out his teeth with a claw hammer. There was a gap in his lip, twisted scars all the way up the side of his face to his eye and ear. Angry, red. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Lambert said, mouth running away with his thoughts before he could marshal them.

The barman didn’t even flinch. His fingers tapped on the side of the bottle, hazel eyes dropping to the fifth he’d just poured, and Lambert realised he was waiting for some kind of acknowledgement that the drink was satisfactory. Lambert tore his eyes away and tried to bury the squirming, uncomfortable feeling that came with making an absolute cunt of yourself in front of someone new. “Yeah, cheers. Uh… add it to my... tab, uh—” Lambert glanced up and caught sight of a name badge, “—Eskel.”

There was another badge next to it. Light blue, with dark letters printed in Arial font. ‘I can’t speak, but I’m a good listener’. Lambert stared at it for a moment, fingers tapping on cool glass. “Can’t speak, huh? That because of—” Lambert gestured at his own face and Eskel nodded, “—right, bummer.” Eskel nodded again, but Lambert could swear he was being laughed at. Those hazel eyes glittered with something, and it wasn’t unshed tears at being so cruelly gawped at. Well, that was a fucking relief. “Yeah, I guess bummer is the understatement of the century.”

Eskel tilted his head and ducked his chin, with a quirk of the eyebrow.

“So, if you know my drink order, you know I have mac and cheese, with crispy bacon bits, and a side of onion rings.”

Another nod. Lambert squinted.

“You know, I’ll… uh—is Aiden out back? Fucker owes me a pony from the last—”

Lambert didn’t get through his excuse before he was sliding from the stool and hot footing it around the rope barrier to the back room. The corridor leading to Aiden’s office always smelled of industrial strength disinfectant and drunken regrets, and Lambert rubbed at his nose as he pushed through the door.

“Please, come in, not like I’m up to my bollocks in paperwork,” Aiden murmured, ensconced behind a teetering pile of brown folders and a box-shaped computer monitor from the early noughties. He was in his late-thirties, with wisps of grey hinting in his neatly groomed beard. Sharp green eyes left the lines of neat print on off-white paper for barely a second to acknowledge Lambert’s presence. “Shit week?”

“About a six on the shit-o-meter,” Lambert replied, gaze sliding sideways as the pinball machine to his left squealed and trilled. Gaetan, short, with a clean-shaven head, docs and a cut-off denim jacket, grumbled irritably as he missed out on beating Lambert’s high score. “Alright?” he asked and received a grunt in return. Gaetan was just shy of twenty years Aiden’s junior and oozed ‘younger brother complex’ from his every pore.

“Six isn’t bad.” Aiden sighed and threw his pen onto the table. “So, what’s the rub? Bacon not crispy enough?”

“What happened to Sal?”

“He finally bought that ticket to Marbella. Him and the missus flew out last night on the red eye.”

“That selfish prick,” Lambert growled. “Not even a by your fucking leave.”

Aiden shrugged and tapped morosely at his keyboard. Most of Aiden’s employees were itinerant in some way; students looking for a quick buck at the weekend, job-hoppers still searching for their calling and lazy schmucks looking for an easy ride only to realise that bar work was hard going. But Sal had been a permanent fixture for the last ten years, always dreaming about a ticket to the sun, and then wasting his pay packet on the horses or weekend jollies to France for cheap box wine.

Lambert rubbed at his beard. “The new guy. He for real?”

“Eskel?”

“Yeah.” Lambert yanked a rickety old chair over from the wall and sat on it backwards, arms folded beneath his chin. “Looks like one of Emhyr’s goons used him as a scratching post. ‘I can’t speak but I’m a good listener’?”

“He’s former forces. Not sure which. He’s… uh, part of that new government initiative. Veterans’ Strategy Action Plan.”

“Thought that was meant to put them in prisons and healthcare and shit?” It wasn’t unusual for Aiden to get involved in charity cases. Despite his feeble attempts at cultivating a fearsome reputation, he was a soft touch with a heart of gold. There wasn’t an AA programme, drug rehabilitation scheme, ex-con reform schtick or fresh start for young offenders’ initiative that he wasn’t involved in. Something about giving back to the community, or doing right by his dad, or something. Everyone had their dreams.

“Eskel’s… uh, he’s got some shit goin’ on in his head, you know. What he went through was hard. He’s happy to do some security on Saturday nights, knows how to pour a good Godfather, so he’s a decent gamble.”

“Shit going on in his head?”

Aiden narrowed his eyes and slumped back in his chair. “You know that’s confidential, and I’ve already told you too much. Fuck off and eat your dinner, I’ve got shit to do. I’ll join you for a quick one before you leave.”

Lambert rolled his eyes and left the office, pausing only long enough to bid farewell Gaetan and receive another grunt in reply. By the time he returned to the bar, Eskel was placing his mac and cheese on a neat place mat next to his whiskey. Lambert paused at the corner, taking a moment to admire the line of Eskel’s waistcoat around his muscular frame. Not too shabby. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad having some new eye candy around the place. Eye candy that didn’t talk back. Winner-winner-chicken-dinner.

“He was busy,” Lambert informed Eskel as he sat down at the bar. Eskel afforded him another nod, with a quirked brow, and then turned back to wiping down the pint glass in his hands. Lambert picked up his fork and focused on wolfing down his dinner as quickly as humanly possible. He watched Eskel work discreetly, looking up only when Eskel’s back was turned or his focus elsewhere. Lambert watched his forearms flex as he restocked the fridge with bottled cider, the fold of his shirt collar beneath the rugged line of his jaw with its light peppering of dark stubble. It was because Lambert hadn’t been laid in—

He began to run the numbers and it was just so fucking depressing he stopped—

—which was why he was hyper focused. New slab of man meat. Yeah. It had absolutely nothing to do with the meandering thoughts set a-wanderin’ by Aiden’s vague comments. What was the ‘something going on’ in Eskel’s head? What did his voice sound like? What had happened to his face? What did he like to do at the weekend, and did it involve lube—?

It was too awkward. Every time Lambert opened his mouth to talk, he knew he’d get that same calm look, perhaps the eyebrow, and in the end, he said nothing.

Aiden appeared an hour later—for Lambert, it had been an hour of pretending to play Candy Crush on his phone while watching Eskel go about his duties—and they shared a beer, a few giggles, and then Lambert headed home to his empty apartment to water his Japanese Peace Lily. No, it wasn’t a fucking euphemism. Vesemir said he couldn’t be trusted with another living thing. Not even a goldfish. He couldn’t even cook (although Lambert argued that those two things definitely didn’t fucking correlate, and boiling pasta definitely counted as cooking). He laid in bed that night and stared at the ceiling, thinking about Eskel and his quiet, calm eyes.

[hd-wireless]

📻🎶 H/D WIRELESS 2024 - WEEKLY WRAP-UP #4

🎤 Can you believe we’ve had four weeks of amazing creations already? We certainly can’t! We hope you’re enjoying the works inspired by music that hit just the right tone to make them into unique drarry fics, art, and podfics.

There are enough works for us to post for one last week of glorious Drarry goodness, so buckle up for the final countdown! 🎶

As always you can listen to the prompted songs for the works we post on two playlists:

Click here for Spotify (many thanks to @evaeleanor for helping us out there) ❤️ And here for the YouTube playlist.

🎶 H/D Wireless Art 🎶

📻 The Shape I found you in [Not Rated, Digital art]

🎵 Song Prompt: 'The Shape I found you in' by 'Girlyman'  🎵 Summary: But your heart was busy within,  Building bomb shelters under your skin.  That's the shape I found you in

🎶 H/D Wireless Fic and Art 🎶

📻 Thunder [E, 11,325, digital]

🎵 Song Prompt: "Dreams" by Fleetwood Mac  🎵 Summary: Harry and Ginny are on a break. Harry and Ginny don’t want anyone to know. Harry assumes Ginny is fucking their way through their Quidditch team. Harry punches Draco Malfoy in the face in his free time. Harry considers this a perfectly reasonable coping mechanism. Harry figures that as long as he keeps everything the way that it is, that everything will stay the same, and nothing bad will happen, and Ginny will stay with him, and Malfoy will keep quietly visiting his dreams.

🎶 H/D Wireless Fic 🎶

📻 crawlin' helpless on the floor [M, 1,525]

🎵 Song Prompt: Cure For Pain by Morphine  🎵 Summary: It doesn't take much to torment a man when he's three broken contracts away from being out of a job and down a newspaper.

📻 Hell is the talkin' type [E, 7,309]

🎵 Song Prompt: Dinner and Diatribes by Hozier  🎵 Summary: “Morgana, I need a drink,” Draco sighs. “Why did I let you convince me to participate in this torture again?”  Harry chuckles. “Because I’m your husband, and you love me?” he offers.  “Bah. Remind me not to let myself be so sentimental next time.”

📻 Mr Blue Sky [E, 69,024]

🎵 Song Prompt: ‘Mr. Blue Sky’ by ‘Electric Light Orchestra’  🎵 Summary: Mr Blue Sky, please tell us why, you had to hide away for so long...   After five years, Malfoy had finally escaped house arrest, and he moved in just a few streets down from Grimmauld Place. Overnight, the Daily Prophet seemed to fall in love with him. For his charity work, and his charming smile, and—Harry was sure—his prattish fucking personality. No matter how hard Harry tried, he couldn't stop running into him.  He had bigger problems, though. His best friends in the world were having a baby together, which was fantastic, except that they weren't sure he could hold it together well enough to be Godfather.  But despite being flat broke, with a dead dad, and no one willing to risk hiring him, Malfoy appeared to be completely in control of the narrative surrounding his newfound freedom. Maybe Harry could learn a thing or two from the best of the best.  After all, he had the entire pregnancy to convince Ron and Hermione he was perfectly, entirely, 100% fine. If sometimes he had to fistfight Malfoy about it, well, that was nothing new.

📻 'tis the damn season [M, 2,892]

🎵 Song Prompt: 'tis the damn season by Taylor Swift  🎵 Summary: He doesn’t know why the universe seems to keep placing him in Potter’s proximity every time he returns to London. He doesn’t know how they keep falling into bed, every year, like clockwork.  Draco has tried not to question it.

📻 Tecum Ad Astra [M, 3,257]

🎵 Song Prompt: Levitating by Dua Lipa  🎵 Summary: It's Friday night and Harry Potter is relaxing with a good book in front of a crackling fire.  But he should be at the club.

📻 Music to my ears [E, 13,190]

🎵 Song Prompt: River flows in You, Yiruma  🎵 Summary: Harry is completely captivated by the beautiful music played on a street piano at a park in Cambridge. He is, however, unprepared for whom the pianist turns out to be.

📻 Pancakes for Dinner [T, 2,176]

🎵 Song Prompt: Pancakes for Dinner by Lizzie McAlpine  🎵 Summary: Draco’s on a trip to visit Harry in his new city at his new job. He’s not brave enough to say how he really feels.

📻 Seasons [E, 9,314]

🎵 Song Prompt: Águas de Março (Waters of March) by Antônio Carlos Jobim  🎵 Summary: Seconds pass, and it’s like he can see Draco worrying the sliver of glass in his heart, looking for a way to press it out, to expose the wound to the sun. It’s life; Harry can be patient.

[murmew]

Cafe 1 - London Fog

"This is...?"

Vertin retrieved her hand and placed it on Sonetto's tidy desk next to a small stack of papers. "London fog, something for you to enjoy while working."

A vaguely sweet aroma floated up to greet her as she looked down at the mug topped with foam. It was a scent that she recognized. "This drink is the same one you ordered from the cafe we visited last week."

Vertin seemed to be a bit surprised, her eyebrows raising slightly. "You remembered that?"

"Yes, I also remember that Regulus ordered an iced caramel mocha topped with whipped cream, Druvis a latte, and Sotheby a cup of lemon black tea with honey."

A small laugh made Sonetto look up in confusion. "Did I get one of their orders wrong...?"

Vertin shook her head lightly. "No, I was just thinking about how you only got a glass of milk then."

"Milk is a better source of hydration than water. Moreover..." She trailed off. "I'm not familiar with many drinks."

That's right. That afternoon, Sonetto who had pondered long and hard about her drink of choice, settled on milk. It would have been a glass of water if not for the basis that water would have been too odd of a choice for the setting. Of course, Vertin had noticed.

"Let's use our weeklong holiday as an opportunity for you to get more familiar with all sorts of drinks then." Vertin gently pushed the London fog closer to Sonetto and gestured for her to give it a try. "Let today be London fog."

"Rog-" Sonetto caught herself. Rather than taking an order this was something much more light-hearted. "I mean, thank you, Timekeeper."

Vertin didn't mind, only crossing her arms and leaning against Sonetto's desk. With both hands, Sonetto cupped the mug, its gentle warmth permeated her gloves. Bringing the rim to her lips, she took a small sip. Her eyes widened as she was met with a unique milky fragrance. A gentle sweetness paired with a touch of lavender.

"It's good..." Sonetto's posture relaxed as she took another sip, this time less tentatively. "I'll be sure to keep this flavor in mind for future reference."

Vertin suppressed a smile. Looks like the earnest and studious side of Sonetto never left her even now. "A bit tastier than milk, isn't it?"

The answer was obvious, but Sonetto nodded regardless, cheeks dusted pink. "It is."

[lovejosephquinn]

Authors Note: I am so excited about this. I've been brainstorming all last night and today and I think it's going to go well, I think it'll either be a 4 or 5 part series atm, we'll see how it works out. Thanks for reading, please reblog if you enjoy it or leave a comment if you wish to kept up to date with future parts! 🥰

Summary: You’d set your sights on him and he on you. It all started with a visit to a newly talked about bar which kept you coming more regularly, in the end not just for a drink but yet the inevitability of a creeping flame set alight by a stare which kept dragging you back. After all, lust shouts and love whispers and in the end, only the heart knows the difference.

Under 18's DNI. Warnings: Slow burn, intimidating meets intrigue, a little bit of sexual intension if you look close enough Word Count: 2.6k

Taglist: @eddiemunson-mylove @joeschains @daleyeahson @itsfreakingbats @etherealglimmer @kayleeelena97 @xlilithb @live-love-be-unique @lma1986 @shawnamae87 @fluffysmutmnstr @ches-86 @aysheashea @definitionwanderlust @palomahasenteredthechat @figmentofquinn @harringtonfan4 @chrissy-mj-stan

Part 1 ✨ Part 2 ✨ Part 3 ✨ Part 4

To you it was a regular Friday night, you'd just finished work and you were heading through the hustle and bustling streets of London with your colleague. Pub Friday was a heavy reoccurrence, much needed after a long week of 9 to 5, it was the only excuse you had to let your hair down and tonight you'd planned to head over to a newish bar that had opened just shy of a few weeks ago, a huge recommendation by one of your other work friends saying that they'd been and it was a pretty decent place to go to.

Truth be told it was tiresome going to the same place every time, seeing the same faces drowning their sorrows in their drinks, the same couples having the same boring arguments and the same old men staring at you from their non owned and practically unreserved tables in the corner of the room.

You move through the double doors which lead into the unfamiliar space, quieter than what you're used to to say the least. You're faced with the beautiful scenery of a long bar, shelved behind it are at least 100 different bottles of spirits. Tables sprouted around the large room with borderline fancy décor set around the walls to compliment them, it was a vision to behold, a pretty penny had clearly gone into this business and it showed, you were truly mesmerised by the care that was given from a clear renovation, that was until he caught your eye.

Originally he'd had his back turned to you and was nothing but a shadow in your field of vision but the moment you caught a glimpse of his side profile, you almost felt a sudden state of nausea, a strange attraction to someone you'd only spent checking out for practically a millisecond. Then he looked over, it all happened in slow motion. You and your colleague still stood in the doorway like a couple of idiots. The bartender smirked a grin your way, welcoming but intimidating all the same.

"Welcome ladies." The most beautiful sound you'd ever heard came out of him, it was simple yet effective enough to have you swooning, your friend had elbowed you back into reality by the time she'd caught your jaw falling to the floor.

Your friend dragged you over to the bar, the mysterious man was drying down a couple of glasses previously owned by customers which had been handed in once they were leaving.

"How do you like my place?" his eyes remained on you, it was like your soul was being ripped apart by his retinas and he'd stolen all ability for you to even respond.

"It's nice here yeah." Your friend spoke for you, removing his eye contact you for the first time since he'd spotted the two of you at the front of he bar.

"This is your bar?" You said it in a way so sarcastic that you made him scoff. Nice one. His eyes rolled back to find your features reflecting through the beautiful brown colours that sparkled in his iris, a slight darkness added to them through the dimmed lighting, was that intentional or not because it only seemed to be clear enough to see when he was looking right at you.

"It's my bar indeed darling, what or who were you expecting?" The skilful chat this man had in giving you back the response you had quickly spirted out and alighted what looked like an irritation in him. Your thumbs twiddled together as you perched yourself onto the stool next to you, unnerved and excited.

"Never mind." He shook his head. "The name's Joe. What can I get you?"

You both ordered yourselves a large glass of white wine, offering the money over to Joe before he smacked your hand away.

"This ones on me." You tried to offer it again, an almost silent refusal that you would be paying for the drinks you'd been given. Joe took the £10 note out of your hand and put his hands under the bar, acting as though he was fumbling around under there, making himself look busy, slight confusion hit you when his hands eventually came back to eye view he was cupping a pint glass which had the note he'd just taken from you firmly rolled inside of it.

"I said this one's on me." You bit back on your laughter, taking out the money from the glass and slipping it back into your bag, accepting defeat, sipping on your wine you offer him a warm smile, his lips were firmly pressed into a line, you couldn't exactly read him very well, he played a poker face that you couldn't quite shake. You were subdued and it had only been 10 minutes in his company.

Your friend made it feel the most awkward of moments when she announced she was going to the toilet and left you alone with him, luckily he got to serving someone else so by the time he was done, she'd probably be back, but obviously to your bitter disappointment that wasn't the case and Joe was straight back over to you, arms leaning against the bar as he bent down to meet you at your level, the towel he was once cleaning the glasses with now lazily laid over his shoulder like an accessory. There was something so soft about his features, something so brutally innocent which lead you to believe that it was all a façade with the tone in his voice when speaking to you, a completely dissociated difference.

"So you never told me your name?" Why in this stupid time and place did you forget your own name, did you mean to stutter through the saliva that was circulating quickly, stumbling over your own tongue.

"It's uh- it's Y/N."

"Pretty name for a pretty lady." That made you bite your lip and he for sure noticed, his eyes made their own way to watch you do it, his own world now moving in slow motion from the deep breath he partook in once you'd shot the flirtatious body language back at him.

"Did you mean to do that?" Your cheeks released a flush of deep red, realising that you'd actually just done that to a complete stranger, a stranger you were obviously completely hot for.

"I bet you say that to all the girls." You felt like you'd knocked him for six with your response, you were in sudden guard of attempting to faulter his clear confidence in talking to women. It didn't work.

"Only when I mean it." Your friend saved the day when you felt her presence right back at your side again, he shot a wink at you and walked away to serve someone who'd just come through the door.

You completely drowned out the conversation you were clearly not involved in with your friend, watching everything that Joe was doing so intricately, he looked so beautiful doing the simplest of things and that was so threatening to you, your heart and head were speaking completely different languages at this point. Even if this was the first time you'd met him, you were to make sure it wouldn't be the last because there was something about him and you knew yourself, once you were intrigued by something or someone; you were determined to find out.

With the bar getting slightly busier through the evening, he was pre occupied elsewhere, the glances were often yet short, shotting the last one of your wine you left without saying goodbye, imagining his disappointment and creating a fantasy for yourself of him feeling cast down that you'd left so quickly without getting to know him. Why were you kidding yourself? He probably wouldn't of remembered you the next time you went in anyway, but your imagination was throwing that version of future events to the side because it wasn't just a normal look you'd been given, that wasn't how normal hello's were exchanged. You were probably overthinking the whole ordeal, but you had to go back and see. If he remembered, then your heart was right, if he didn't your head was just playing tricks on you, the first option sounded better but the second was probably more feasible.

You prepared yourself for the boring Saturday evening up and coming close, no plans made you took the spontaneity that was lingering in your every being to get ready and go to the bar, after all the mystery man named Joe was all you could muster to think about.

You dressed up to the nines for someone that probably wouldn't shoot their eyes your way again. Not something you'd usually do since your anxiety ridden body wouldn't normally let you, but there was a form of excitement in you so powerful that kept you going for tonight, it would probably be deflated as soon as you found out you were wrong and foolish for going back for the reasons you were and for all intense and purposes you made sure you were to stand out from the crowd.

Entering the bar, it was slightly busier than the previous day, the weekend truly in force and the people of London ready to party until the early hours of the morning. You suddenly felt out of place, all alone in the middle of a bar attempting to see the man who only flirted with you for all of half an hour yesterday, there were more staff located behind the bar, you wandered over, eyes prying all over the place just to even witness a peak of him.

Both a hot and cold sweat came over you when you couldn't see him, all but a crowd of bodies scattered around the room, you felt slightly dizzy in your wake and moved over to step to the front door, quickly deciding it was probably better to give this a miss and accepting you were probably wrong in what you'd been thinking for the last 24 hours. Before you even put your hand on the door, you felt a hand grip to your arm, pulling you towards them with brute force, swerving yourself around to take a look, a slightly older man stood before you, immediately looking you up and down, making your whole body shudder and not the good kind. He leaned down into your ear.

"Lost?"

"No I was just leaving, was trying to find my friend."

"I'll be your friend, come have a drink with me."

"I'm good thanks."

His grip had remained on your arm, you'd attempted to step back but the wall had gotten in the way and you suddenly felt trapped.

"Come on. I won't take no for an answer, one drink."

"I said no, thank you." You tried to be as polite as you could before you were on your way to losing your tether, moving your hand over his you attempted to get him off you, but he squeezed tighter. What kind of creep does this in this day and age, the obvious answer was the entitled pricks that thought they were gods gift to women and didn't like nor understand the word no.

His other hand brushed your hair off of your shoulder, making you squirm disgustingly from his calloused fingers.

"Please let me go."

"When you have a drink with me."

You began to panic when all at once, time and space moved in the blink of an eye and the man was pulled backwards by your now knight in shining armour. You looked up to see Joe, clinging to his shoulders, ragging him towards him, instantly releasing you, you gazed down at the red marks from the way his hand had held you so tightly.

"She said no, mate. Think it's time you were leaving, think you've had enough." The man stormed out in a huff after looking at the seriousness of the pupils that were dilating Joe's eyes from the spout of anger of seeing someone handle a woman in that way; the wrong way.

"Thank you." You felt Joe's hand move over to inspect what could of only been described as a minor injury to your skin, his thumb soothed over making goose bumps reappear over his strokes.

"You're welcome pretty girl. What brings you back here?"

"Just for a drink."

"Alone?" Joe raised an eyebrow, that same shit smirk hitting his lips which made you feel pure infuriation yet made you want to jump him.

"Alone."

"To see me more like." You gulped your saliva back, a heavy breath inhaled when you felt him move closer to you.

"In your dreams." You rolled your eyes.

"No darling, in yours." Joe glared at your movement, taking your hand and bringing you over to the bar.

"So what will it be? Wine?"

"A shot of tequila bar boy."

Joe barked laughter at you, taking out two shot glasses and pouring the lethal spirit into them.

"Two?"

"Cheers Y/N." You picked up your glass, clinking them together you took the shot in unison. The burn felt good at this point but all your brain could muster was that he remembered you. Your heart was pounding and you couldn't even decipher word in the English language to describe how you were feeling right now.

"Before you go and try handing me the cash again, I've got a better idea." You were so predictable to him by this point, you felt instant defeat because your next move would of been to find the money to pay him for the shot. Intrigued by his words, you took a deep breath again, completely wrapped around his little finger to find out what he meant by that.

"Okay?"

"Just to put it out there, you're really fucking attractive darling." He leaned further, your faces inches away from each other. "I know you came here to see me again. I know the feelings mutual. You give me your number and once I get off work tomorrow, you come here and I'll show you what you came for tonight." He moved back, tapping his fingers against the bar. An offer, is that what it was?

Pulling out his phone, he offered it to you to tap your phone into the keypad. You were too flustered and shaky to even respond by this point, but you did it any way. This guy could of been anyone, but you really needed to explore his proposal, after all it's not everyday you feel this down for someone so quickly, you're not losing out either way.

"Good girl." Joe saved your number into his phone. His way with words had you tingling in every crevice of your body, you weren't sure if it was the tequila making you feel this way or whether it was the way he clouded your thoughts with his fiery look.

"Do I get to find out what's happening tomorrow?"

"All in good time."

The bar had gotten even busier by the time you'd managed to look away from him since you'd got to the bar with Joe. He was pulled to the side by one of his employees and when he came back he had a look of annoyance in his face, made softer once again when he saw you sat minding your own business.

"You going to be okay getting home?"

"Yeah, fine. I'm a big girl, I can handle myself." You rolled your eyes again.

"We'll see about that."

"Is that a threat or a promise?" You bit your lip.

You felt his throat strain, a low grunt emerging.

"We'll see." His game was being played twice as hard as yours, you could of cut the tension with a knife.

Joe's hand came up to tuck your hair behind your ear, leaning down he placed a brief kiss on your cheek, the sensation travelled to your core and you were suddenly hooked.

Fuck.

"Until tomorrow." Joe moved away slowly, the now familiar smirk crossing your line of vision once more.

Double fuck.

[alwritey-aphrodite]

Full moon with Steven grant

2023 Fall Blurbs

Most people assume that they know Steven, that he's shy and awkward and reserved and quiet. But you know the truth about him, that he’s full of sass and sarcasm, that he’s brave and hardworking and always down for an adventure. Steven, more than any of the other alters, is the one who finds unique restaurants that you need to try, little shops hours away you need to visit, plans romantics dates and doesn’t let you know anything you’ll be doing.

Tonight, as soon as you’d walked through the door, tired to the bone after work and desperately needing some time with your boys, Steven had told you to get changed into something comfortable and be ready to leave in twenty minutes. Despite how badly you wanted to lay down and fall asleep until the morning, you knew that whatever Steven had planned would be perfect, so you managed to change your clothes without falling asleep standing up.

Once you were all cozy in one of Steven’s jumpers, you made your way to the kitchen to see him stuffing a bag full of snacks, but when you opened your mouth to ask what the plan was, he just gently steered you towards the living room.

“Can’t ruin the surprise now, can I?” He says as he makes his way back to the kitchen once he’s satisfied you won’t try snooping around again.

“How long is this surprise going to last?” You ask when he’s finally leading you from the apartment, bag on his shoulder and your hand tucked into his.

“You’ll see,” he responds ominously, with the brilliant smile that you love so much. You’d follow him to the ends of the earth as long as he kept smiling at you like that.

The two of you strolled through London hand in hand, and you couldn’t help but notice when you walked past all your usual restaurants and parks and date night spots. It seems like you’re walking for hours, Steven leading you along and chattering happily about his day and something Marc had wanted you to know as if you weren’t losing your mind trying to decipher where he was taking you.

Eventually, you slow to a stop, and Steven glances around quickly before turning back to you with an excited glint in his eyes.

“Close your eyes, yeah?” You do as he asks, theatrically placing your hands over your eyes so he knows you aren’t peaking, and then you can hear him rustling through the bag, “Almost ready, love, I promise.”

A few moments later, the noises stop and you feel Steven place his hands softly on your shoulders.

“Tada,” he says, and you open your eyes to see a beautiful picnic spread out under the full moon and an even more beautiful Steven, looking so nervous and so proud of his work.

“This is gorgeous,” you tell him, in awe of the view and the work that he put into the surprise. All your favorite snacks are spread out, along with a pile of fluffy blankets to keep you warm in the chilly London nights. He really does think of everything, always remembering your favorite snacks and drinks and colors, remembers all the little details about you that anyone else would forget.

“I know,” he replies, and when you turn to look at him, he’s already looking back at you.

[londonsimblr]

Japanese Sago Palm for TS3 and CAW

Download here

Sago palms! They're native to Japan but are also grown in the US, Taiwan and probably tons of other places that I haven't visited and that aren't listed on Wikipedia. They're so cute. Sadly they would die in a London winter so I have to live vicariously through my Sims.

Two trees are included. One is straight and the other shwoops along the ground as sagos often do. Both are young/short trees:

Price: §206 Category: Trees & Plants; CAW; Edit Neighbourhood Name: LdnS Japanese Sago Palm; LdnS Japanese Sago Var 1

Base game compatible / .package file

TOU:

Do whatever you like, include with your world/lot, adapt it to your tastes, steal my textures, etc.

If you create a plant cloned from this, make sure it is unique and not a default replacement - this can't be done to speedtree plants in the usual way with s3oc alone (so message me if you need help!). And please link back to my blog when you share :)

[6kate1bishop6]

the hatford family history, as made up by me

disclaimer: this is an entirely made up family history that is based solely off of really quick google searches on life expectancies and such, if its not compatible with canon in places that is my bad also i made this all up so i could write about my oc so just ignore the redacted part of the family tree for the time being, a lot of this is based more on creating a comprehensive family relationship as opposed to making it historically accurate so my apologies

okay so starting from the top we have henry hatford born 1853 died 1893, he is a husbandman in suffolk just outside of ipswich, a lot of land in suffolk was enclosed (common land, which is kind of like parks basically green spaces that are free for anyone to use, was taken by often the rich and wealthy and mostly turned into agricultural land) so henry hatford is a farmer of enclosed land that is owned by like a lord, the agricultural scene in the mid 1800s was in decline i think but the hatfords farm remained fairly successful or at least affloat, imagine they were farming whatever the most popular crop at the time was

henry marries betje hatford nee de boer born 1855 died 1897 and this is where we get to the crime stuff, betje is from amsterdam we're not gonna question too deeply how and why she emmigrated to the uk or how she met henry maybe they had a meet cute when she arrived in london or henry was visiting mainland europe and they met there but either way they met and got married yippee, betje is from amsterdam and thus has family there, as rotterdam began to supplant amsterdam as the most popular port her family became desperate, in 1875 the port of felixstowe was opened and as betje was uniquely positioned near the port and her family were desperate they began a smuggling business, the port was newly formed and as such it was easier to bend the rules, the hatfords are now committing crime! with their new income they are able to buy out the hatfords farming land from whoever owns it and it becomes the hatford family estate, they build a house, likely something that looks similar to bletchley park just not on such a big scale, a victorian house which is larger than a standard suburban victorian home and not terraced but still has the bay windows and all those bells and whistles

so betje and henry hatford are committing crime, whats next? kids of course! their first child is ivo hatford born 1879 died 1922, ivo is their only surviving child, they also have katja hatford 1881-1882 and godfried hatford 1884-1884, as ivo is her only survivng child betje throws her all into him and nurtures him to take over the family business

ivo marries jessamine hatford nee kemp born 1882 died 1828, jessamine and ivo only have one child ingrid hatford born 1905 died 1959, ingrid is raised as the heir to the hatford crime family because betje instilled gender equality for committing crime into ivo, ingrid marries michael hatford nee fisher born 1903 died 1943, michael is obviously not a hatford by birth but was welcomed into the family graciously and decided to take the hatford family name imagine ingrid and michael as a childhood friends to lovers situation, michael dies during the second world war when working on the raf base in woodbridge which is the third point in our triangle of ipswich and felixstowe, the base opened in 1943 and fixed faulty aircraft and we'll say he died in an accident on the base sure

ingrid and michael had four children, three of which survived, edwin hatford born 1924 died 1985, antonis hatford 1926-1930, paula williams nee hatford 1928-1974 and sofia hatford 1929-1980

so paula marries mark williams 1924-1969 and have one child rachel williams 1945-present or at least still alive as the books are taking place

sofia is more interesting sorry not sorry paula, sofia marries paul cranmer 1920-1952 and they have two children lucile hatford nee cranmer 1946-book present and gabriel hatford nee cranmer 1950-book present, when sofia discovers paul has been abusing her children she kills him and begins a rerlationship with her life partner carla samuels 1927-1981, the kids revert to using sofias maiden name and all is happy yippee

back to the main hatford timeline, edwin is ingrid and michaels only surviving son so he gets raised to lead the hatford crime family because the hatford feminist spirit gets lost at some point post ww1

edwin marries theresa hatford nee hardings born 1934 died 1999, theresa and edwin have two children stuart hatford born 1957 and mary hatford born 1962 died 2005 and now we are in canon land so things start to get a little iffy

this is what is canon to me but ive just made this shit up so

theresa is a very demanding mother and puts a lot of pressure and judgement on mary, stuart is raised to be the next hatford heir but when edwin unexpectedly dies in 1985 the hatfords are left a little loose footed, theresa pushes mary to marry nathan and the marriage goes ahead in 1986, the books sort of imply that this was a power alliance kind of marriage or at least not a marriage born of love so the marriage helps to ensure the hatfords stay in power, it probably provided them with some moriyama connections

we can probably expect that if they weren't from the beginning the hatfords are probably now enmeshed in the drugs trade as well as other smuggling endeavors, this new alliance is likely to provide them with connections within america to smuggle things there

so neil is born 1988 and they go on the run in 1998 when he is 10, the books state that neil and mary spent a week in england with stuart and mary didnt want to stay with the hatfords because they were still a dangerous crime family, but what we see of stuart is less violent crime lord and more devoted family man who is also the leader of a crime family

what i propose is mary did not want to return to her family because she didn't want to stay with theresa, who died a year after they went on the run

considering nathan would probably have staged people at all airports on his side of america as soon as he discovered what mary had done, the hatfords smuggling abilities would have come in handy to find a way to extract neil and mary from america under the radar, their smuggling connections within europe would help form the basis for marys european connections and arguably the people who helped forge documents for them

now stuart, as i was coming up with this storyline to flesh out stuart in order to interact with my oc i have i think biased myself to a more positive overall view of stuart personality wise

but anyway now to talk shit about him, i think stuart would be a new labour voter i cant explain why he just gives blairite vibes to me, i think he owns proprty all across the uk and could feasibly be a landlord but also i dont want to make stuart a landlord, of his london properties he probably uses the ones in soho and near canary wharf/greenwich the most

anyway this took me like two hours to write out and all of yesterday to plan, if you intend to use any of this family history could you please credit me, if its not historically accurate then my apologies my english history knowledge unfortantuely has a glaring gap when it comes to the 1800s

[schmergo]

Controversial opinion, but when I visit a new place, I often enjoy trying some local chain restaurants they don’t have at home.

People talk about wanting to live like a local, but locals aren’t doing fine dining or visiting indie bakeries every day. When I visited London, I tried some great and unique restaurants, but I also had coffee from Caffe Nero and pizza from Pizza Express. Those brands felt like part of the “authentic” UK experience to me!

When I visited my friends in South Carolina, we got delicious local bbq and brunch but also had subs from Publix and shakes from Cookout. It was fun to experience that part of their routine with them.

Any other local chains you enjoyed visiting on vacation?

[eppysboys]

Portmeirion

Portmeirion in Gwynedd, North-West Wales, a two-and-a-bit hours drive from Liverpool has a bit of interesting Beatles history attached to it. It was designed and built by Sir Clough Williams-Ellis between 1925 and 1975 as an Italianate style village. He drew inspiration from a range of architectural styles, from classical and Gothic to Romanesque and Egyptian, to create the unique and eclectic village that stands to this day. (Watch him talk about the village here)

He was an advocate of rural preservation, amenity planning, industrial design and colourful architecture. "I think that Beauty, The Strange Necessity - as Rebecca West once called it - is something that matters profoundly to humanity, and that unless the race of man perishes from the earth, it will increasingly value that Grace, will seek it, and will ultimately attain it." - Sir Clough Williams-Ellis

Brian and George Martin visiting Portmeirion, 1966

Brian Epstein holidayed here often with family and friends, staying frequently until his death in 1967. Portmeirion was an important place of retreat for him. At the start of August 1966, Brian went there to recuperate from a serious bout of glandular fever after his doctor prescribed a quiet vacation to rest and recover from the intense stress he was under, among other physical ailments recieved during the tour.

Brian became good friends with Williams-Ellis. Staying in the Gatehouse cottage, close to the entrance to the village, Brian suggested that the property might benefit from a dining room where he could entertain guests. Sir Clough duly obliged, building a large and ostentatious room not entirely in keeping with the original cottage. Not only that but the fashion conscious Brian once commissioned a renovation of his room at the Gatehouse having complained that there was not enough space for his clothes when he came to stay in his cottage every summer.

Brian's room in the Gatehouse with wardrobes made to his design (photo: Alli Devine)

““He went to convalesce in Portmeirion, North Wales ... There he invited George Martin as a guest. The two men spent much time devising an idea for a new television series on pop music to rival the BBC’s existing Juke Box Jury. The essence of their programme was that a jury had to guess what the chart ratings were going to be each week. The live programme was to be geared to when the charts of the week were revealed, so that only the presenter would know the record positions. Epstein and Martin took the idea to the BBC’s Bill Cotton Jr. ‘Brian was terribly enthusiastic about it,’ says George Martin, ‘But Bill Cotton didn’t think it was worthwhile. He was working on another programme at that time.’ The Epstein/Martin programme had a suggested title of Pick the Pops. 

Brian told his mother from Portmeririon by telephone that he was bored, that a break was essential before his forthcoming American trip. But his boredom and enforced rest had lasted a weekend when a phone call from Nat Weiss forced him back to reality.” The Man Who Made The Beatles, by Ray Coleman

“He went by himself to a luxury hotel in Portmeirion on the North West coast of Wales that overlooked the Sea, and wind-swept beach, as remote a place as you could get from London. Everyone’s adcice was the same: try not to worry.” He had been there only four days before uproar errupted over John’s Jesus comments. Brian left Portmeirion right away to soothe the chaos. 

“At the time, Brian was in Portmeirion, Wales, and he was ill. As the evening went on and I was getting all these calls, I called Portmeirion in the middle of the night and said, 'Something has to be done about this.’ And he said, is it serious?’ And I said, 'I think it’s so serious that you have to come over here.’The next day he flew over and I met him at the airport. The first thing he said to me was, 'How much would it take to cancel the tour?’ And I said, ‘I don’t know. Maybe a million dollars.’ He was so concerned about anything happening to any of the Beatles.” Nat Weiss, In My Life: The Brian Epstein Story by Debbie Geller

Patrick McGoohan chose the village as the setting for his TV series the Prisoner, which started shooting there in 1966 (he had filmed scenes for an earlier series there too, Danger Man, known as Secret Agent in the US). The Beatles were fans of the show, enjoying it's other-worldly setting, intriguing concept and the anti-establishment struggle of the lead character. George mentioned the Prisoner in his book, I Me Mine. Paul has reportedly stayed there, and Mike McCartney has also stayed there and loves it.

George Harrison loved Portmeirion and famously celebrated his 50th birthday in the village in February 1993. George originally wanted to stay in the Watch House, one of the village's most popular cottages which is high up on the cliff side of the upper part of the village. However the Watch House only has a low wall around it so his security men persuaded him to stay in the much safer Peacock Suite of the main hotel, where Brian had entertained dinner guests all those years ago.

It was also during this stay in Portmeirion that George was filmed for several interviews which were used in the The Beatles Anthology and had some pictures taken in the mirror room.

More footage of the place + Beatles history here.

[dyad-tmesis]

The poll is finished! Now for the infodump

Fallout AU Infodump Pt. 1

==Pt. 2 coming soon==

Jekyll was born and raised in the rural Scottish wasteland, bright eyed and intensely curious about the world around him. His talents in science were apparent from a young age and when a passing merchant mentioned an open vault that offered education to those that qualified the opportunity was quickly taken.

(Due to the fact that Fallout lore is primarily focused on the goings on in America and it’s themes around it being uniquely catered to its culture a lot of this will be my personal interpretations and hcs, it is subject to change)

Society in U.K. in the post nuclear apocalypse is somewhat intact, given its old but enduring infrastructure there’s a few settlements active in the area. London itself still remains as a city, albeit one with pockets of deadly radiation containing mutated rats, pigeons, insects, you name it. Due to the initial societal collapse at the end of the Great War and now the lack of fossil fuels the current culture of London has gone back in time to the Victorian era…with an apocalyptic twist of course. Streets lined with gas lamps now contain candles or certain glowing radioactive materials, markets now sell mutfruits, tatos, mole rat meat, you name it. But one of the important aspects of the city keeping it together is it’s open vault nestled in the upper class neighborhoods (a gift from the U.S. government to the British government) with its stable infrastructure, education, and resources. With something as valuable as this those who stepped foot in the vault were vetted before they could enter and those permitted to live there permanently even more-so.

Robert Hastie was a hard working wastelander, working his way to becoming a prolific merchant and eventually earning a place within a vault and starting a family. His son Lanyon was born and raised in the vault, living a quite literal sheltered life with privileges that those who lived outside could only dream of. He expected to coast through life as a doctor (a highly valued profession in such a place) and thinking that his classes would be a breeze. It was not. And that’s when he bumped into a rather roguishly handsome young man by the name of Henry Jekyll. Henry was granted temporary visitation in order to learn everything that he could about science with a hungry mind, utterly captivated by the well maintained prewar relic he was studying in.

In exchange for tutoring Lanyon Jekyll would hear many stories from him of what life was like the vault and even some information and stories he’s heard about what it was like before the war. Lanyon taught him how to speak in a proper British accent, how to dress well, how to use his charm, and they would grow closer and closer. A relationship like theirs was not meant to be in the vault, nor was it looked upon favorably in the city outside, so it was kept behind closed doors and lingering looks and late nights together…until it all came crashing down.