#here's a picture of the bat-boat tho
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asks (26)
@spickerzocker said:
hey there! just a heads up that i tried to click on the "why i don't ship" explanation link in your faq and it says that there is no post with that url/it's generally broken. also your "a conversation about recovery" thing is beautiful and hurts in the best way and i love it. have a nice day!
Yes, I intentionally took that link down awhile ago, and last night I went and updated some of the tabs on my blog. Here are my basic thoughts:
I wrote that link years and years ago, while I was first navigating the internet and while I was still figuring out important things about my own identity and opinions. I ran my blog differently back then, but by the end of the first few months, I knew I was uncomfortable with shipping.
As people began to interact with me and my work, I told them over and over again no, I don’t want to talk about that, and I don’t want to write about it, and it makes me uncomfortable. I don’t think that was a common position to take at the time, so it wasn’t what people expected from me.
During those years, I felt like I had to justify myself and give a valid explanation. I wrote that post explaining why I had that boundary, and I put it in a place where anyone could find it.
I said no when people asked, let them make jokes about it, and made jokes about it myself in response. As time went on I got more and more exasperated when I had to repeat myself. I wrote definite rules into my ask box, request tab, and FAQ. People still asked. I wrote it into my description. People still asked.
The truth is yeah, there’s a pretty simple explanation for my discomfort. It makes sense. It’s easy to understand, and most folks think it’s a “good enough” reason to leave me alone. The difference between young-me and current-me is that I no longer feel the need to justify myself.
None of y’all need to know why I set the boundaries that I set. My explanation isn’t relevant, and I’m not obligated to give it. I said no. That’s enough.
I think a good number of folks remember my explanation from the past, and I don’t mind that at all. There may be a time where I talk about it again, in a more appropriate context, so I guess we’ll see.
That’s a lot of information in response to a very helpful ask. Thanks! The link is gone now, and I’m so pleased that you enjoyed the fic :)
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Anonymous said:
U suck
Kenza sent this anon as a joke. She’s right, and I thank her.
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Anonymous said:
I'm a doctor and ive seen it all.....but the milk fic made me gag
Excellent
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@wingedskyes said:
Ah. Wait. I wasn't on anon....uhm. oh well. It's fine. I like milk and am not ashamed. 😆
I don’t think I received another message from you actually, but I too like milk and I’m glad we’re on the same page
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@thelittleredheadedmusician said:
To add to the milk discussions: my best friend from home and best friend from college have each finished a gallon a milk by themselves within 2 days.
I do that too, every once in awhile. When the milk craving hits it’s a gallon a day
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Anonymous said:
"TIM! POUR HIM. A GLASS OF M A L K!"
Hold on I have to google some things
Yeah this is funny
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Anonymous said:
I have read that milk fic three separate times and every time I’m laughing just as hard as Tim and dick by the end it’s just so excellently executed and builds so perfectly that by the time dick cracks I’m ready to go too and I just lose it it’s amazing I love it
Awww anon I’m so pleased :)
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@the-smartass-under-the-mountain said:
Just wanted to drop by and say your recent fic with Tim antagonizing Damian with increasingly outrageous milk concoctions had me giggling. It was so cute and refreshing to see Dick enjoying Tim's little prank. And Bruce's reaction to just... walk away was fantastic!
Thank you! I’m always so thrilled when y’all think the jokes hit
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@njtheboywonder said:
I havnt really enjoyed a fic in years, but i stopped to read ur fanfic with tim drinking milk just to fuck w dami amd it made me smile. Thanks, for writing it.
Oh that warms my heart <3
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@bruciewayneisbatman said:
Tim Is totally the guy who would drink ridiculous amounts of dalgona coffee to annoy damian, according to that fic.
Had to google that one, but I guess so huh
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Anonymous said:
(diff anon) but that birthday fic was so good oml and you have opened my eyes as to the batfam in quarantine this is such a Concept
We’re all here dying..... together...
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Anonymous said:
Happy birthday! 🎉 or belated! 🎂 thank you for being in the fandom. 😊
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Anonymous said:
To anon! Sorry. I forgot to add that! Anyway, thanks to them we get a lovely fic. I hope you have many more birthdays! 😊
Message for you anon
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Anonymous said:
Your writing gives off good vibes
Hear that guys I “passed my vibe check.” Is that what the youth say these days? I am an elder now and I do not know
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Anonymous said:
finding your blog while being relatively new to batman fandom is such a bliss. your batfam content especially is *chef's kiss* amazing.
Thank you my darling :) I’m glad you’re here
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Anonymous said:
Best line in a fic? Hard to pick just one, but this particular one from "Just Desserts" by fyeahbatmanandrobin on Tumblr is one of my faves: “Anyone else would be hard-pressed to provide the particular brand of excitement you bring to my life, Dami.”
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@noisypaintersong said:
For the line thing: "I don't doubt it. Bruce Wayne, the unexpectedly normal guy wrapped in a mystery wrapped in a superhero wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a fake socialite wrapped in a businessman wrapped in a secretive billionaire." He paused. "…You're the seven-layer burrito of Gotham," he pondered. - Barry to Bruce in 'Of Friends and Foes' by Paganpunk2 on FFN. It's one of the funniest things I've read someone say to Bruce LOL
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@kirakats submitted:
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Anonymous said:
“I do know that according to everyone else, there is no chance, no future, no universe where I stay a hero.” Describes my frustration with the way DC treats Damian so accurately. Let the kid be a hero dammit.
Thanks! That’s really helpful. I’ve got a decent answer to my question now.
@kurawastaken submitted:
So this is Kenza retaliating against me for the milk fic. I very much hate tomatoes and specifically ketchup. This photo (1) is a nightmare and (2) fulfills its intended purpose.
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Anonymous said:
I love your blog!!!
And I love you
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Anonymous said:
quick question: how do you think jason reconciles with the fam?? i think in the comics they kinda just reboot and now he’s on better terms. but like what conversations happened, yknow??? (you’re doin great work by the way, it rips out my heart but it’s great)
This is an amazing question, and I’ll be thinking about it for the next bit, I think. That would be a really interesting topic to explore in depth
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@angel-gidget said:
*hugs you real tight* would you please send this to the first 10 people in your dash? Make sure someone gets a hug today and stay safe!
Oh thank you for the hug <3
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Anonymous said:
I hadn’t been aware of that Memphis petition, but I live in Memphis too (Altho I know you said you just grew up there so you may not be living here currently haha) so ig I just wanted to say thanks for bringing it to my attention!
!!!
I’ve been in Texas for six years now, ever since I started school, but I’m still in and out of Memphis for family purposes. Love the trash heap of my birth
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@damianwaynerocks said:
hey! any chance you know of any other dc heroes around damian’s age?
Sure! You could try Billy Batson, Jon Kent, or Maya Ducard
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Anonymous said:
hi! i don't know if it's okay to leave anons like these but ive been feeling down because my country has passed a bill that deprives us of lots of human rights freedom and i want you to know that i just found your blog through the damian/bruce + justice fic and it comforted me. im slowly going thru your works and so far they are all comforting. i love your stuff, thank you.
Philippines? I’ve heard some things, and I’m real sorry y’all’re going through that. I don’t know that there’s anything I could say about that to help, but I hope you’re finding joy somewhere
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@awesomeness-ofgaybitches said:
Tumblr hates you. The links in your bio and to your fic masterlist don't work on mobile. I'm sorry.
FUCK
#I'd like to also take this opportunity to note that at this time#I have blocked 7 people for variations on#okay no ships but what about sailboats??#but what about the TITANIC#here's a picture of the bat-boat tho#guess what kids it's not creative or funny#and I explicitly said that jokes will get you blocked#I follow through#asks
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February 2020
I managed to use my iPad as a second monitor for my computer. So tech savvy. Yay me!
Joking about developing a sex-based cardio programme with Manu. Powerfucking! Might help against aggression as well.
A late night phone call with Tom. Not saying much.
Making a huge pot of my grandmother’s signature veggie stew.
More Bon Appétit test kitchen videos. Chris recreating tacos. Claire making Ben&Jerry’s. Priya making her mum’s Indian curries.
Writing a letter to Lena. Drawing upside down bats (which makes them look like they’re having a wicked dance-off). Just the act of writing. I thoroughly enjoy looking at my handwriting.
Using the Salted Coconut handscrub by Lush. Especially now that I wash my hands so often when we’re working with clay at school. I feel like the peeling triggers some pressure points on my palms.
That Saturday productivity high. Cooking and preparing heaps of stuff, cleaning the windows, doing laundry.
Painting my nails like an expressionist artist.
Some portrait studies. Accidentally drawing Sirius Black.
Being really motivated to improve my Spanish. Working with Lorena, the Duolingo app and even starting my own grammar/vocabulary book.
This ultra quirky ASMR video. Also: watching videos with Erin an her boyfriend Chris. It’s amazing how well they work together. How you can almost feel their connection, how similar they are.
Carrot cake oats.
Seeing the The Darkness live again, this time with Margit. Justin’s outfit and personality, singing along, especially to Time of my Life, the band’s traditional first song after the show.
Meeting Chris. Having a Bramblette cocktail at Pusser’s. I like that place. Feels very old-timey with a rowing boat right under the ceiling. We made out in front of a tiger slide in a toy store window on our way to the next bar.
Peeling fresh carrots.
Pickling onions and making kimchi. My fermentation game is strong these days!
Looking through Dominik’s sketchbook. I loved the tree whose bark resembled a mole burrow with its underground tunnel system.
The flu. Yes, really. Fewer pupils at school. Quiet times. I’m actually surprisingly healthy. I’d guess my probiotics must play a role here… Who knows.
More sourdough experiments. Writing about it (DELICACY - a haiku. Oven-warm sourdough / salted butter, alpine cheese / and a strawberry).
Finding a really interesting list of SanFran hippie era book recommendations at the end of Robin Sloan’s Ajax Penumbra: 1969. In the mood to read Maya Angelou, Tom Wolfe, Jack Kerouac, Richard Brautigan.
Even more beautiful books: I really enjoyed Die weiße Stadt by Karolina Ramqvist, a feminist author from Sweden, and the graphic novel version of To Kill a Mockingbird. But two books that literally (well, figuratively obviously) blew my mind were Circe by Madeline Miller (mythology, loneliness, animals and plants, magic and monsters, some desperate kind of feminism, independence and strength) and Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo (magical realms, university setting, psychological depth, unexpected twists and turns). I haven’t read anything comparable in a very long time and I desperately hope that there’s more to come from these authors.
A beach collecting all the world’s single socks in The Magicians. Oh and of course seeing them break the moon. What a sight. The show is super confusing, obnoxious and absolutely fabulous at the same time. Best example: the Freaky Friday szene in which Margo and Eliot switch bodies. I love how the actors took on each other’s speech patterns and behaviour.
A new addition to my colour vocabular: celadon (a greyish green; there is a type of ceramics you’ll only see in this colour which is not surprising since the shade provides such an interesting contrast to the the earthy, rusty orange of burnt clay.)
Manu telling me that he had rarely seen people with more joy in their eyes than me (“Ich habe schon Freude in deinen Augen gesehen! So ein Leuchten kann man nicht simulieren.”) after complaining about being bored and lifeless. / Making curry with or, well, for him the other night. Drinking Liqueur 43 with cinnamon and milk. Playing the Jackbox party games for which you can use your phone as a controller.
Finding myself in a well-known sitation from the past. Lying in Frank’s bed in the early morning hours, not that tired yet, when he starts talking about his life and his depression. In English, obviously, because that’s our emotional filter. Relating, since I feel quite similar. Coming up with a suggestion for a reciprocal support system. Let’s see what we can do for each other.
Looking at travel photographs. The sea, the cenotes. Longing to go back to Mexico or Australia. Diving. Taking it all in.
Dreaming of my grandmother talking about her biggest regrets in life. Weirdly she was in a little bundle under a coffee table, much like Voldemort in the last Harry Potter movie.
My weird, weird brain. How both pleasure and pain enhance my sense of smell and increase my brain activity, almost causing hallucinations and fixations on ideas. Like geometric shapes in gloomy off-colours and a beige silicon-like surface the other night. All I could think of was a benchscraper.
Blue eyeliner.
Brainstorming three-letter-words with Frank since I’m thinking of getting personalised Nike Blazers. Sad cat. Yes but. Dat ass. Why tho.
Flying squirrels. Watching them wobble through the air. How they look like cute exhibitionist when they’re extending their limbs and thus stretching their, well, let’s just call it wings.
The fact that red cabbage has an intricate pattern like brain convolutions when you cut it open.
Talking to Sonja for the first time in over two years. What a strange person. Interesting, too. At least in homeopathic doses.
Ripe strawberries and nectarines. Oh my god. I love fruit.
Meeting Eve at Pub Quiz. She identifies as female, loves swing dance, used to be an animator and I love her style. Also, I realised that really like Betty. And Dennis wasn’t mean to me for once. I love my nerd friends <3 And I learned that Starbucks was named after the first mate in Moby Dick! Also, coincidentally they asked a question about the city where To Kill a Mockingbird takes place (Maycombe, Alabama) after I had read it the week before.
Inviting Lorena to the Botanical Gardens. I always feel very happy and very much myself when I’m there. I sometimes wish I was a gardener. Lorena was late so I walked along the Spring Path outside and it might have been the first time I’ve seen a brussels sprouts plant. Inside I learned lots of Spanish words and marveled at the incredible butterflies. The huge yellow one right behind the entrance was my favourite. Its delicate feelers were fascinating.
Washing my hands at the Keg’s bathroom. Looking into the mirror. Suddenly thinking of the perfect karaoke song… Rescue Me by Bell Book and Candle! I kept singing it for days on repeat. My neighbour must hate me (nothing new here) especially since my voice is too low for the chorus.
It isn’t hard to see how such attachment patterns can undermine mental health. Both anxious and avoidant coping have been linked to a heightened risk of anxiety, depression, loneliness, eating and conduct disorders, alcohol dependence, substance abuse and hostility. The way to treat these problems, say attachment theorists, is in and through a new relationship. On this view, the good therapist becomes a temporary attachment figure, assuming the functions of a nurturing mother, repairing lost trust, restoring security, and instilling two of the key skills engendered by a normal childhood: the regulation of emotions and a healthy intimacy. // An interesting article on attachment styles and why theraphy works; it makes me want to learn more about attachment theory. This School of Life video is a nice addition as well.
That dream. About a book shop modeled after my picture of Penumbra’s 24-hour bookstore. There was an old man in a very narrow but high-ceilinged room full of books. There was no light source except for moonlight or some street lights. There were loads of stairs, very steep, leading to the back of the house. Upstairs the man would set out cat food and on the rooftop there was an old sailing boat. One day the man decided to open the door to the roof and let visitors see the ship, much like a museum; perhaps to attract customers. However, in the next night a cat-shaped ghost appeared who reminded me quite a lot of Kot Behemoth character in Mikhail Bulgakov’s The Master and Margarita. The ghost was not amused about the old man’s decision and took away his key, a big golden one adorned with a red ribbon.
Toasted sesame makes pretty much every dish so much better.
Watching High Fidelity with gorgeous Zoe Kravitz (I adore her effortless style and her outfits), getting in the mood for making a playlist and listening to more music in general. There are all these great songs out there I forgot about.
Remembering the xkcd storm chaser comics.
Making a wicked good batch of Pho for Tom.
Spending a nice evening with Alex at Shamrock. Singing along to American Boy by Estelle. Confirming the hypothesis that the nerdy, quiet ones usually have a freak streak. That moment in the morning. Eye contact and kegel exercises.
Karaoke with Margit and Betty. Meeting Manu’s doppelganger. Same type, looks, voice. Eerie.
Making a BA Gourmet Makes meme for Steffen after he had passed his law examps. Strangely Gaby kinda looked like him after I was done with it.
Saturday morning in bed. Reading comics and graphic novels. Fresh bedclothes, surrounded by books. Since it was February 29 I thought about leap years and asked a few friends what their inner seven-year-old would have done that day (based on the thought experiment that your birthday was on February 29 and you’d age in 4-year-steps which would divide your age by 4 obviously).
I came up with: visiting grandma / eating Cini-Minis / falling asleep with my face buried in a cat / beating my neighbour Anna at Memory / drawing while listening to a Bibi Blocksberg cassette.
Alex said he’d have been outside all day, building a snow igloo. Not noticing his mum telling him to come to dinner. If the weather had been bad he would have played with his dinosaur collection. His inner 7-year-old was a hopeless dreamer who got agitated whenever his parents had a fight. Who came home late from school every day because he forgot about time when he was talking to his friend next to a hedge with thorns that looked like tiny airplanes.
Lena said she would have been outside all day long, playing in the mud with the neighbours’ kids. Of course.
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50 More Interesting Questions
Rules: fill this out and tag at least one person you’d like to know more about! Or just fill it out! Or don’t! Answer only some of them! Make up your own questions! “What kind of requirement is that”, you ask? A reasonable one! Who am I to tell you what to do? Anything goes!
Thank you for tagging me @theempresskaizer & @kakihoden! :D <3
1. What kind of food can’t you stand?: Anything fermented. Like, ew. Also brussel sprouts (Then again, I have yet find someone who can cook brussel sprouts “well.” :b)
2. If you could choose one minor inconvenience to never have to deal with again, what would you pick?: Public transit schedules. They’re so darn inconvenient (And yet I’m commuting for the remainder of my uni career. At least I’m saving money..?). -.-’
3. Have you got any useless talents?: I try to make use of my talents, so I’m gonna say no. :b
4. If you could be really really good at one thing, what would it be?: Taking (good & worthwhile) risks because I’m always so darn careful so I end up not trying new things sometimes.
5. Name a few people you think are extremely good-looking: ALL THE FRIENDS AND FAMILY I KNOW AND LOVE. <3 Oh, also Emma Watson, Gal Gadot, Shawn Mendes, Tom Holland, and all the other celebs I tend to fangirl about (I can’t name them all rn, haha sorry~. :P).
6. What was your favorite way to pass the time as a kid?: Singing all the Disney songs (Which I still do nowadays, haha~.). I would also read books, write my own stories, and act as if I was on a Disney Channel show (I was quite the Disney fangirl back in the day. xD)
7. What is something you’re proud of?: My friends who are just starting college/uni this year. Most of them are already setting up their dorms and getting ready for classes. They’re growing up so fast! :’)
8. What’s one character flaw in people that you just can’t tolerate?: Dishonesty. I don’t associate with phonies.
9. Do you consider yourself to be more of a leader or a follower?: I’m a bit of both. Then again, being a follower makes you a kind of leader: you essentially lead people to follow your leader, if that makes sense Okay I’ll shut up about leadership theory sorry y’all. :P
10. What kind of student are/were you?: The diligent one (but people often claim I’m the overachiever even tho I’m not always a straight A student lololol).
11. Butterfly effect question! Has there ever been a seemingly minor decision you’ve made (at the time) that ended up having a profound influence on your life?: Ohhhhh yes. This kind of thing has happened to me many times (In like the best ways possible, thankfully.).
12. Name your most irrational fear/aversion: Being alone/left out (Even though “I’m never really alone” ((Which I know I’m not. Hence the “irrational” part of this particular fear/aversion.)).)
13. Are there any fictional characters you find especially relatable?: Yup. Plenty of ‘em.
14. If you drink, what kind of drunk are you? Alternatively, what sort of person are you at parties?: I don’t drink... Yet. My Canadian friends are trying to get me to drink with them since I’m now legal in Canada but I’m scared heeeeeelp. :b I’m usually the wallflower if I don’t know anybody too well at a party. However, if I find people I’m comfortable hanging out with, I’ll stick with their squad throughout the event, talking, eating, dancing and taking pictures/SnapChats to our hearts’ desires~. ^-^
15. Do you fall in love easily? Or does it usually take a long time for you to trust someone?: Nope. I have to get to know the person before I “fall in love” with them, let alone having a crush on them. Which is why the biggest crushes I’ve had were on some of my closest friends. But I’ve never told them because I didn’t want to risk our friendships IDK I’M A NOOB WHEN IT COMES TO LOVEY-DOVEY THINGS. :b
16. Would you rather have one close friend or 100 casual friends?: One close friend. <3
17. Do you consider yourself to be more of a slob or a neat-freak?: Neat-freak. Definitely a neat-freak. xD
18. Describe a place (imaginary or real) that you would find incredibly cozy:
Both of these locations are places where I’d have more than enough room to move or think. ^-^
Outdoors: Somewhere near the sea, where I could feel the sand on my toes, hear the waves splashing onto the shore, smell the ocean breeze, and watch the orange sunset glowing along the horizon.
Indoors: An empty practice room. Wooden floors, large mirrors in front of the room, dance barres along the side walls, a few windows displaying the outside world, and a speaker/stereo system perfect for blasting the music around the room.
19. Do you have kids? If not, do you want them someday?: No kids atm, but I love working with them! Yes, I’d like kids someday~.
20. What was your favorite book as a child?: I read many books as a wee child. But one book I can clearly remember is Stellaluna. It’s an adorable story about a bat who discovers who she truly is thanks to both her adoptive and biological families (The former being a family of birds and the latter being a family of bats.).
21. Name one thing you just don’t get what all the hype is about: Fidget spinners. I’m still seeing people freak out about those things. Didn’t the trend die a month or two ago?
22. Name one thing that you think is tragically underrated: Myspace. *evil laughs despite the fact that I never had a Myspace account* :P Sorry I couldn’t think of anything else bahaha~
23. If you had to be glued to a person for a month, real or fictional (who you have never met), who would you choose?: I mean, I’ve never met MYSME’s 707 IRL, so I’ll stick with him And we can visit his space station, haha~ ^-^
24. What’s something you’d like the chance to do someday?: Act in a theatrical production. I haven’t done theatre in a year and I already miss it. T.T
25. Do you typically speak your mind when you have a controversial opinion? Or do generally prefer to not rock the boat?: I’ll definitely speak my mind if I’m well-versed in the topic and if I’m passionate about it. If I want to present a controversial opinion, I have to be sure that I can articulate my POV eloquently and professionally. I’m also more than willing to listen to the other side, as long as they fully know what they’re talking about (Frankly, I will not take any B.S. if I suspect B.S.).
26. What’s the dumbest fad you’ve been caught up in?: I’m blanking... Yeah, IDK, but I’m pretty sure I got caught up in some kind of dumb fad back in middle school. *shivers b/c I don’t want to relive those years*
27. What’s something you thought was cool as a kid/adolescent, but now cringe at yourself for?: When I was younger (like elementary/middle school-age), I dreamed of becoming a singer. In order to accomplish that dream, I joined my school and church choirs: however, that turned out to be a pretty toxic experience since almost everyone I was singing with treated every single practice and performance as a singing competition. Like, c’mon you guys: we aren’t on Glee. -.-’
28. What’s a trait you consider to be very admirable?: Honesty: I admire people who are genuine and true.
29. Is there a particular kind of item people always tend to give you as gifts? (For instance, people always get you things with ducks on them because you like ducks, etc.): Books (people know I’m a huge bookworm), clothes (b/c I’m usually too lazy/don’t have time to shop for my own clothes, LOLOL), stuffed animals (I’m a child at heart and I love cuddly & cute things), sweets (especially chocolate).
30. Do you speak multiple languages? Which ones?:
English is my mother tongue.
I apparently used to speak Tagalog fluently when I was very young, but then I stopped speaking that language once I started preschool; however, I’ve picked up some terms over the years, so I can sort of dissect my parents’ conversations w/ the other adults (”Yes, Mom, I knew that you were talking about my uni stuff with Tita *insert name here*.” :P), plus I’m going to take a Tagalog 101 class in Autumn Quarter, so I’ll (hopefully) learn how to say complete sentences instead of just the names of foods, holidays, and Filipino Folk Dances. xD
I learned Spanish throughout my high school career, so I’m okay in that department even though I haven’t practiced speaking/listening/writing in that language recently. I’m still fluent enough to help my sisters with their Spanish homework, so that’s something. :P
I tried learning some French, Japanese, and Korean through various language learning apps, but to no avail. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
31. Would you rather live in the big city or the countryside?: Can I choose like a little town instead? Big city: the countryside would be MUCH too quiet for me (Plus I’d be much too tempted to run atop every hill Sound of Music style and start singing at the top of my lungs - which would probably annoy a lot of people, myself included. :P).
32. Has there ever been something you were certain you’d hate, but ended up loving?: Giles Christophe a.k.a my Midnight Cinderella bias. Ironic, huh? xD <3 Also Jumin Han from MYSME. :P
33. Do you mind being the center of attention, or do you prefer the spotlight to be on someone else?: I will hide from the spotlight like I’m a friggin vampire unless there’s a damn good reason for me to be under it.
34. Favorite holiday?: CHRISTMAS!!!
35. Are you a more go-with-the-flow type of person, or do you need to have things planned meticulously?: If I’m in charge of scheduling something, then I MUST have everything carefully planned. If I’m leaving the scheduling to someone else, then I’ll just go with the flow~.
36. Is there something you loved so much you wish you could forget it and experience it all over again? (A tv show, book, series–anything.): My first trip to Hawaii: I’d love to explore the islands and swim in its oceans again.
37. What hobbies do you have?: Reading, writing, singing, dancing, listening to music, playing the guitar or ukulele, checking social media (JKJK :P), drawing/arts & crafts (If I’m EXTREMELY bored), playing video games, watching TV/YouTube, exploring places both old and new Yeah, I do too many things, haha~
38. If you could have a superpower, but it was only mildly useful, what ability would you want to have?: “Mildly useful?” (O.o) I guess the ability to learn things VERY quickly - like, master an activity on the first try. I actually have a friend with that ability, which has allowed him to almost effortlessly master almost every sport he’s ever learned: he’s basically a superhuman and I admire and envy him for his “superpower.” :P <3
39. Something people are always surprised to learn about you: My age: people think that I’m much younger than I actually am, mostly because of my shorter-than-average height and my baby face. I’m basically an adult stuck in a teenager’s body. xD
40. Something that took you way too long to figure out: How to apply the Unit Circle to various math problems eff you precalculus and calculus never again ugggghhhhh.
41. Worst injury you’ve had?: My broken heart (JKJK, sort of. :P) I got burned by the metal tip of a very hot glue gun. Thanks to that, I have a tiny scar on my upper right arm.
42. Any morbid fascinations?: Does watching playthroughs of horror games through YouTube count?
43. Describe your sense of humor: Clever/witty, sarcastic, sassy. Oftentimes unintentional: jokes will usually come to me naturally through conversation. If we’re close, plenty of embarrassing stories, inside jokes, and horrible puns will be part of our daily doses of humor.
44. If you had to be born in another era/place, which would you choose?: I’d want to be born in Canada, mostly because I’ve got a lot of family living up there, plus I’d love to live in a place that isn’t completely messed up rn. #SorryNotSorryAmerica *crosses to the Canadian border like a badass*
45. Something you are irredeemably bad at: LOL, WHAT’S A SPORT? :b
46. Something that sucked but you’re glad you went through: Freshman year of high school. I first moved to my new home that year, so being the new kid sucked for a while, but I eventually made some friends and found more opportunities to grow as a person (through writing and theatre).
47. Would you rather have a really godawful ugly tattoo in a place that is only slightly inconvenient to conceal with clothing (upper arm, thigh, etc.), or the coolest, most beautiful tattoo ever in the middle of your face? (Neither tattoo can be removed or concealed with makeup, and the ugly tattoo will deeply offend anyone who sees it.): Ugly tat. At least I’d have a place to hide it. xD
48. Are you more of an optimist or a pessimist?: Realist. Leaning on the pessimist side. However, I do try to believe that things will get better, that there’ll be more bigger and better opportunities out there, etc. etc.
49. What would be the most flattering compliment someone could give you?: That I’m a hardworking and genuine person. Then again, I don’t do well compliments anyway: I’ll definitely blush and stutter and try to hide behind some kind of an object while complimenting you back. xD <3
50. Something you feel people often misunderstand about you: I’m often quiet and reserved when I’m meeting new people. Some may think I’m naturally calm and composed, others take it as slightly intimidating. But I’m just quiet because I’m awkward, plus I don’t usually start conversations. :b
Tagging: @princessofwysteria, @sukio-sakamaki, @allforthecrown, @o0w0o, @widzzicles, @rizosrojizos, and anyone who wants to do this! (I would’ve tagged more peeps, but I didn’t know if they had been tagged already. So please join in if you haven’t done this already~.). ^-^ <3
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Himself Alone 1970
In the thin air of the Azteca Stadium in the 1970 World Cup Final Pele hovers majestically over his Italian prey - Himself is similarly airborne as his ten year old derriere has been launched towards a Western Irish sky by a bolting horse.
In the next few moments gravity will work on both and Himself will attempt to match the cacophony of 107,412 and will come pretty close. Life is flashing before him, At ten his life is as watchable as a reality TV spin off on a cable channel - thin content which Himself tries to stretch out by endless previously ons recaps and in next week’s show...He had recently sat through Love Story - will he die before his own has ever tasted love? Never to skate in Central Park? Never having to say sorry - and not even the drawn out death where Ali Mcgraw looks more glamorous as the end nears but an instant hit of body on Connemara marble. At least he would die with as clean a conscience as Bobby Moore post diamond necklace scandal.
The nag that had inched forward like a non league crowd following a triumphant cup tie vs higher placed opposition who wanted to savour the relative luxury of the away ground now moves with energy and purpose as speedily and unexpectedly as the appearance of the roundel insignia on Japanese fighter planes over the Pearl Harbour skies. Not like in the Michael Bay travesty but as in the epic war fillum he's just seen at the ABC Essex Rd: Tora Tora Tora - surprise surprise surprise - like all 70s boys he was multilingual - provided there was a war on. feuer achtung Banzai hande hoch. And this is war: man vs horse - all about personal survival.
Fortunately Himself had bronze, silver and gold badges acquired thro many hours of perspiration starting with Mum’s dexterous use of a safety pin when she somehow retrieved the elastic swimming trunk cord - as much a wonder to Himself as the third of the working class consistently voting against their own interests or the touting of £100k Peter Marinello as the next George Best. The swimming lessons in the Tibberton Rd Public baths - always busy as very few folk had bathrooms at home relying on the Saturday night tin bath. That would be followed by climbing into the blue and white cotton pyjamas warmed in front of the coal fire in readiness for the Andy Williams Xmas snowbound belatedly screened in April.
Finally the inflating and tying off of said blue and white cotton sleepwear and the desperate drying of them with dressing room hairdryer which had been recently installed owing to demand from men growing their hair longer. This had resulted in the wolf whistling of certain players at football grounds- obviously only visiting or especially former heroes especially Jimmy Robertson at the Lanewhen he scored for Arsenal. The skills these medals acknowledged were of no use on land. If only his bolting mount had been a giant sea horse...
Himself has never ridden before but he has seen the Grand National on the telly so The pose is pure Pat Taafe - Mum’s fave Irish jockey who won the grand national that year resulting in her annual bet paying off with jubblies all round.The horse is no Arkle the champion horse much less Champion the Wonder Horse star of Saturday Morning Pictures - a communal cinema going experience where the largely junior crowd heckled the Government Information films watched rapt at key moments in Z for Zorro and cheered at Flash Gordon - all behaviours far more endurable than the Vue/Cineworld going adult munching supersize tacos swimming in collagenous red , loudly predicting plot outcomes and turning their phone screens up just in case they miss an update from their co-worshippers of WKD, Lynx and cuffed sweatpants who style themselves as the whatsapp group lethal banter squad
The horse is one of a team too - some of his mates bearing Aulfella and da brudders others pulling a trap navigated by Mam with dasisters. They have names tho none as resonant as
Tostao, Gerson, Jairzinho - Brazil 1970 the greatest team ever - and the highlight of their play wasn’t even a goal but an outrageous dummy and miss vs Uruguay by the totemic Pele. Pele’s opening goal and Carlos Alberto’s clinching fourth meant Brazil won Jules Rimet three times and got to keep the trophy. Perhaps that’s what drives Mark Francois and Rees Mogg towards urging constant war on Germany - a hat trick of victories would give them world domination in perpetuity - the natural order of things.
The rarity of sightings of these yellow and green shirts enhanced their allure. They were only glimpsed every four years and the white clad Germans and Orange dutch every two. Contrast that with the attention mega trawler supernet net of todays’ neverending news - transfer deadline day is more exciting than most games. No such problem in 1970 midweek - we got Sportsnight with Coleman - which did feature football but only after you had sat through all sorts of things boxing, figure skating but the one most pertinent to the crisis - showjumping
Following exposure on the telly kids would head to the park to attempt to copy their newfound Gods - the Willie Carr flick, the Best robbing of Banks at wembley - scandalously ruled out for ungentlemanly conduct, The Denis Law sleeve grab (does anyone still make long sleeve shirts?).
Rosemary Gardens cinder pitch was their Highbury, their Lords (with matting rolled out and stumps on springs) even their Wimbledon when anyone cared to play (two weeks in June) but it was never our Hickstead- our Wembley stadium never the Empire Pool Wembley
The only pools that mattered were the centrepiece of early Saturday night ritual. The football results delivered to kitchens steaming with anticipation of life changing news and perfectly cooked potato flesh - invariably just like the clocks that year of nothing in our lives and others changed. However, one of Aulfella’s friends, Old Docherty, actually won the pools and grew beardier, scroogier and unhappier with each occasional visit -never once bringing anything with him. For Irish kids the visitors from Home - and most of them were in the same boat as us, ie a barely afloat dinghy - were always good for a few bob. It was considered good luck to give the kid some silver. Yet this man whom fortune had shone on never once shelled out to us. In fact he spent one whole day complaining that the imminent decimalisation of the currency meant penny for the guy was now prone to hyper inflation and nothing but a profiteering shameful scam perpetrated on the unknowing and donors should be handing over 0.471new pence. God knows what he did during bob a job week. Bob a job week was where uniformed kids washed cars, cleaned windows, ran errands - known collectively as odd jobs. They ain’t odd tho are they? Night time Czar is an odd job as is innovation sherpa at Microsoft and eBay curator - here is a Crying Boy print in cracked frame contrasted with a chipped babycham glass tight against the cracked soda stream bottle - and they all earn more than a few bob.
Being Catholics Himself and crowd were always a bit self conscious during bonfire night possibly cos of the burning of effigies. Anyway he had All Souls day - Halloween - then to Church all souls - Old Docherty cme one year and the highlight was his reaction to the collection plate: a dummy worthy of Pele followed by a Barry John pass or if the row was very empty - he demonstrated real potential in the new sport of Frisby.
Always happier as player than spectator, Himself enjoyed the privilege of altar serving which often yielded significant coinage. The tariff was clearly signposted - weddings, baptisms - then the biggest payers: mourners. We used to pray for for a big funeral not the old miser Docherty of course - even tho he had promised Aulfella he’d get his newish telly in the will
Telly was the talk of the summer for the cinder pitch in the park was also the scene of filming the TV show Budgie. This starred Adam Faith who was an actor/ pop star and managed his own career as well as other artists. It’s not easy doing that - only Louis CK really handles himself and look where that’s got him. When the show was aired one local geezer was rechristened as Budgie because of his feathered cut - the Rachel of its time. Until the 90s such references were pretty universal but the market led fragmentation of broadcasting reflected the times of greater social inequality especially in broadcasting. Food banks remain a shock to us children of the 1970s - then we had Adam Faith, Bob Hope but no Charity - too much Charley Pride. Thanks to the proliferation of channels TV has lost its role as cultural glue. Back then Cultural glue was, well, glue - sniffed from a crisp packet. Now football is the cultural glue though it seems far more one way than in the past
Old stadiums are demolished to be replaced by what look like PFI prisons - do you think real supporters care about their new stadia? If they did you’d hear new songs - we have a craft beer concession in our stand/ we followed carbon neutral building practices/ four figure sums our tickets cost four figure sums.
He pines for the old Highbury, the Lane , the Den. There used to be alphabetically ordered boards on the side of the pitch with a key to the code supplied in the programme intended for half time scores - Himself’s crowd always bet upon the initial of which of the neighbours teen sons would be turfed out. In their flared wrangler belt loop they wore their red and white wool scarf knitted by loving aunties (no doubt she’d be sued for copyright by the club now). The offender would be escorted out by a hopefully helmet free copper- if there’d been a pitch invasion - their perp walk taking them past a raucously cheering Northbank to a warholian fifteen minutes - of fame not that is not the wait for VAR.
As football grew into the monolith it is today other sports were forced into the shadows - after all you can recreate the epic Celtic vs Leeds European Cup Semi -Final the two legged Battle of Britain - see it wasn’t just kids who were obsessed by war tho even the ten year olds knew the actual Battle did not feature Scottish pilots in Mescherschmidts. You could even recreate speedway in the bombed out church with some soil at the corner and the bike - the Ivan Mauger skiddy turn at corner. But showjumping ?
Its rural and/ or upper class credentials meant it never really caught on in London as a participation sport - how could it? The horses in the area were totter or rag and bone man and the coal carthorse. Undeterred Himself devised a game where he would jump over paving stones which hosted street furniture - lamp posts, beacons - obviously any failure to clear the slab would deduct faults. In truth this was the steeplechase a la Alf Tupper in the Victor whose every win would see his thought bubble read “I’ve run him” sparking huge moral panics about comics ruining kids English -
So as his mount charges towards a Dry stone wall Himself searches for showjumping knowledge that might help - Princess Anne who went on to winning medal in 1976 - only athlete not required to undergo a sex test - typical class privilege; David Broome; Lucinda Prior Palmer - just one person - the only double barrelled name Himself knew was Ian Storey Moore- who kept winning at Badminton -now he’s really getting lost...Himself suddenly knew he could be saved and weirdly his Gordon Banks turned out to be Hughie Greene.
In those days beer was delivered by horse - called dray carts On Opportunity Knocks that year the Dray King for Thwaites Star brewery had been declared Britain's champion beer drinker. Using the technique he’d seen Tonto use Himself directs the horse towards the stream. It stops to drink and he dismounts and does the full Harvey Smith - futile but made me feel better - gesture politics they call that now. Himself recreates the Central Park scene from Love Story there is no snow but sweet connemara rain turning the earth into mud…(falling up/ snow angels / eating snow build snowman)
No horses were harmed in the making of this story...
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One Act of Kindness: Part 2
Harry watched the oars of the small rowboat dip in and out of the water with an expression of rapt wonder. It wasn’t that he’d never seen oars in action before; he’d gotten a pretty good look at their operation the night before when a half manic Uncle Vernon had hauled them across a stormy sea. What held his attention on this bright July morning was that the oars were moving on their own. More magic. Hagrid had set the twin planks spinning with a tap of his umbrella and a sly wink. Now he was sitting at the head of the boat reading a large newspaper that had been delivered by owl. The front cover was studded with more of the moving pictures. Apparently all wizarding photographs moved. A small selfish spark inside Harry had rebelled at that revelation. Secretly he’d always hoped that his Magic Photo had been something unique. But that had been then. Now he was watching magic being performed right before his eyes and he was content. He breathed in the salty sea air and leaned back against the side of the boat to enjoy his birthday morning. He snuck a peek inside his tin, running his hands over the photo and the letter held within.
“Hagrid, what were my parents like when they were in school?” he asked without thinking. Hagrid looked at him over the top of his newspaper with an expression of deep thought etched on his forehead. Harry felt kind of silly for asking, but now that he’d said it he felt like it was the most important question in the world.
“Your parents,” Hagrid began. “Well, they went to Hogwarts after my time, o’ course. But everyone who met them always said the same thing. Your dad was a thumpin’ good wizard, head boy in his last year, if you’ll believe it. Won an award for his trans’figgeration, I think. Got into all kinds of trouble with that pack of friends he hung about with. Played a bit of quidditch, if I recall right. Now yer mum was a brilliant witch, better than your dad I reckon, not that he’d ever admit it.” Hagrid chuckled at his own joke. “Weren’t a charm nor potion she couldn’t master if she set ‘er will to it, an’ she had plenty will to spare. Patience of a saint yer mum had, but when she got it in her head there was an unfairness afoot, there weren’t nothin’ that could stop her. Some say they made her head girl jus’ to rein in yer dad an’ stop it goin’ to his head. Codswallop in my opinion, anyone deserved the honour, it was her.” Hagrid smiled as he recalled what sounded like distant but pleasant memories. Harry smiled along, the words painting a picture in his mind.
“They sound amazing,” Harry said. “I only wish I could be half as good at magic as either of them. I’m afraid I might be no good.” Harry stared off into the distance, suddenly aware of the cavernously large shoes he’d soon be stepping into.
“Nah,” Hagrid said. “Don’t you worry yerself, ‘Arry. Yer jus’ eleven. No one expects you to be Merlin right out t’gate. You put yer work in tho’, an’ I’m sure you’ll not be thought less of. Ah, here we are.” The small boat butted against the algae gripped stones of a harbor wall. Hagrid leaned over, almost capsizing the tiny vessel, and grabbed hold of an iron ring set in the side of seawall. The giant swung the boat around until it ground against a set of shallow steps that climbed the wall. “Well, there you go. Watch yer’ step now.”
Harry swarmed out of the boat and climbed the steps, which turned out to be quite slippery with thick growing seaweed and puddles of saltwater. Never the less, Harry gained the top of the cliff quickly, spilling out onto the sleepy street above none the worse for wear. This early in the morning, the little seaside town they’d left the night before was still barely rising from bed. Very few people walked the streets in the stiff sea breeze that was blowing into shore. Those that did were staring in Harry’s direction. Harry looked around nervously. Had they seen something? Did they know? Hagrid had said there were laws against revealing magic to the world. Had he, Harry Potter, already broken those laws not one day after learning they existed? “You al’right, Harry?” Hagrid asked very close behind him. Harry jumped, then immediately felt incredibly foolish. Hagrid, who towered over Harry’s short form, was also at least twice as tall as the adults who were now watching slightly slack jawed.
“Yeah. I’m fine Hagrid.” Harry stepped out of the way as the giant man climbed the last few steps. With a jab of his oversize pink umbrella, he sent the boat scudding away across the sea under its own power. “Hagrid, how exactly are we getting to London?” Harry tried to imagine the enormous man squeezing into a car or climbing onto a bus Or perhaps, as he’d revealed earlier that morning, Hagrid flying through the air like Mary Poppins, Harry squeezed into one of his coat’s many pockets like an oversized kangaroo.
“We’ll take the train, o’course.” Hagrid said excitedly. He patted one of his pockets. “Got a ticket ‘ere somewhere. Got it from Dumbledore, I did, never did get a handle on muggle money me self.” And with that, they were off to the town’s local train station. Harry almost had to jog to keep up with the long strides of Hagrid, who walked down the street in good cheer, pointing out various objects like bike racks and a painted blue police box and making comments like “The things these muggles come up with.” Harry smiled awkwardly at the so-called muggles as they passed. They tended to give Hagrid a wide berth, but Harry they eyed with curious looks. It was much the same aboard the train. Harry sat beside Hagrid, who had pulled from his coat a ball of wool and two needles that could have doubled as small spears and started to knit.
Harry watched the countryside outside turn into the cityscape of London as morning crawled slowly towards midday. The men and women who got on and off the train began to wear suits as opposed to plain clothes and fewer and fewer cast looks in Hagrid’s direction, preferring to disappear behind newspapers of their own. By the time the train pulled into Victoria Station, no one seemed to bat an eye at the odd pair. Harry rose with a yawn and a stretch, shaking off the sleepy weight of a late night and a quiet ride. The platform around him was bustling with people. Harry shamelessly gawped around. He’d never been to London, and the high, glass ceilinged gallery festooned with lines of Union Flags served as a grandiose introduction to the city. That introduction was reinforced as Harry reached the street. The station that rose up behind them was made up all in red brick. Lines of iconic red double decker buses stood ready to fill with passengers along bays that lead out into the road, which was thick with more cars than Harry had ever seen in one place. People thronged the stone shod pavement in streams.
Hagrid parted the sea of humanity like an island moving against the tide. Harry hurried behind in his wake, his unfolded letter clutched in one hand. His brow was creased with confusion as he read through the shopping list provided on the second sheet. He queried Hagrid. “One wand? Hagrid, where in London are we going to find some of these, is there really a shop that sells wands and cauldrons and spell books?”
“Well, not all in one shop,” Hagrid said with a chuckle. “But there is a shop that carries spell books, an’ one with cauldrons an’ potions ingredients, and even one where you can get yer’ wand. You jus’ have to know where to look.” The giant laid a thick finger aside his wide nose in a knowing look. “Not far now.” They continued along the bustling city streets, turning onto Charing Cross and marching along until Hagrid came to a stop outside a shabby little building that peeked from between a bookshop on one side and a record store on the other. Harry waited for his companion to continue on, but instead Hagrid turned and stepped towards the dingy black and gold painted façade. By the looks of the faded sign that hung out front, this was the Leaky Cauldron, and it was a pub. Hagrid made to open the door with its grime darkened door, but had second thoughts and turned back to Harry.
“Well, let’s, um, let’s go in then.” A hand at Harry’s back led him towards the door. “Now I mus’ warn you Harry, you’re kind of famous in the wizarding world. Folks might act a little funny ‘round you.” With no further warning, Hagrid pushed him gently through the front door. The room was dark as Harry stepped across the threshold. Smoke swirled in dizzying patterns as men in bright cloaks bent heads close together in conversation. Harry walked confidently among the tables. If he was famous, as Hagrid had told him, he shouldn’t have any trouble in this bar. And then, all of a sudden, something odd happened. The scar on his forehead, the one he had been told he had received in the car crash that had claimed his parent’s lives, prickled slightly. He reached up and brushed the hair that covered it aside to scratch at it. The effect on the barroom was instantaneous. Voices hushed and then died down. Everyone in the room appeared transfixed by the thin lightning bolt shape on his forehead. A voice inside him told him to run and hide, to escape the unasked for attention. Then he thought of his Photo, of his parents standing together and waving happily. They couldn’t have been that much older than he was now. Harry took a deep breath and tried to imagine himself smiling as confidently as they had. He looked up at Hagrid, who gave him a slight wink and motioned for him to keep going. Harry stepped forward, a move that at once seemed to break the spell that held the room silent. From seemingly every corner of the room witches and wizards came forth to either shake his hand or offer him thanks. He accepted the attention with the warmest smile he could manage; he was still unnerved by the sudden press of bodies. It was more people than he had spoken to in his whole life and none of them had an unkind word for him. It was a nice change of pace, he decided.
The old barman greeted Hagrid with a hearty “The usual then, Hagrid?” Hagrid politely declined. “Can’t Tom, Hogwarts business you know.” He motioned towards Harry.
“Harry Potter, bless my soul. I should have known it were someone like you caused all that commotion.” Harry followed Hagrid past a turban clad man towards the back door. His scar gave one last prickle before the door closed behind them and they were faced with and alley empty but for a pair of miserable looking dustbins.
“Hagrid…” Harry began, but before he could finish the huge man had tapped out a pattern in the dirty bricks. Before Harry’s eyes bricks seemed to move and revolve until they formed a great archway onto a cobblestone street. Harry was battered almost immediately with a veritable barrage of new sights, sounds, and smells. Shops lined a narrow road that twisted back and forth, each storefront a unique mix of strange and wonderful. Harry goggled at barrels full of curious looking plants, windows lined with wide bottomed copper pots and thick stout iron basins. He saw a skinny three story building that leaned out over the street. It’s brightly painted sign claimed that it held flying broomsticks within. The riotous street ended at the steps of a great white marble edifice marked with golden letters a foot high; Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Hagrid followed his eyes and smiled.
“That’ll be our firs’ stop, Gringotts. Thas’ were your gold’s kept. T’aint no safer place to keep sommat’ than in Gringotts, ‘cept maybe Hogwarts that is.” Together they moved towards the bank, Hagrid cutting a path through the crowd as he had done in London and Harry following. Harry made sure to cover his scar back up with his hair, no reason to cause a scene out in public. Not that it would have mattered, as it turned out. Everyone in Diagon Alley was bustling about. Harry watched as a half dozen women dressed in long dresses that looked like something out of the Victorian era descend upon a display of faintly glowing fruit. Atop a spindly looking ladder, a shopkeeper levitated a spray of potted flowers to the top of his storefront with a wave of a small wooden stick and adhered them to the wood with a few jabs. Owls soared thick overhead, shrieking and hooting as they flew in and out of some of the buildings.
All around him, magic was thick in the air. Harry felt something, something that he couldn’t quite put into words. Something about this place just felt right. It was as if it was the final, definitive proof that everything he had dreamed of for as long as he could remember was all true. And now it surrounded him. Harry breathed it all in and felt as if he was filling with magic. He smiled broadly as Hagrid led on. Soon enough they were at the great golden doors of Gringott’s bank.
“’Ere we go, ‘Arry,” Hagrid mumbled. “Now watch yerself. Goblins aren’t exactly the most friendly of beasts.” The giant placed a massive hand on the door and pushed it open.
The door opened on an ornate marble lobby. Everywhere gold glittered in statuary, chandeliers, and even in thin veins within the walls themselves. Suddenly, Harry felt very out of place in his baggy hand me down clothes and broken glasses. A great arch inscribed in a language Harry couldn’t read led to a hall somehow even grander. Short, ugly creatures sat at the high tables that lined the hall. They all seemed very busy either counting coins or writing in massive ledgers.
“Are these goblins?” Harry asked under his breath. Hagrid only nodded. At the end of the hall sat an especially old looking goblin busy reading from a long roll of parchment. Hagrid approached the desk and cleared his throat. The goblin didn’t look up.
“Do you have business here?” he enquired in a raspy voice that sounded unpleasantly as if he was being strangled.
“I’m here to bring Mr. Harry Potter to his vault.” Hagrid said.
“And does Mr. Harry Potter have his key?” the old goblin asked. Hagrid patted around his pockets, emptying out their contents to the increasing distaste of the goblin teller. Finally, he pulled a tiny golden key on a string from one of the smaller pockets that lined his back. There was a little back and forth between the two as Harry looked around distractedly. He got the sense that this place would be ungodly hard to break into. But that would be a good thing wouldn’t it? He was brought back to present matters as a younger goblin approached.
“Griphook here is goin’ to take you to your vault, Harry.” Hagrid said with a smile. He quickly stuffed a handful of dog treats and a fat green caterpillar back into his pockets. The three of them walked through the set of double doors in the back of the room. They led to a narrow hallway that then gave way to a rough hewn tunnel. This tunnel opened out into what looked like a miniature train station. A strange golden cart stood on suspended rails.
“Sit, please.” The goblin, Griphook, spoke in short, curt sentences. The cart was in motion almost as soon as they had all taken seats. It moved along its rails at breakneck speeds, the tunnel wall flashed past Harry in a blur of grey rock, occasionally punctuated by dimly lit alcoves that ended in round iron doors. Harry gasped as the cart began a sudden decent into an open cavern.
“Gringotts goes deep underground, Harry,” Hagrid must have seen Harry’s shocked expression, “Deeper even than the Ministry of Magic.” Harry looked over to ask a question about what exactly the Ministry of Magic was, but noticed that the ride through the cavern was making Hagrid appear rather green around the gills. Harry himself felt rather ill as the cart plunged ever deeper into the network of crisscrossing caves and tunnels. Looking over the side of the cart, he felt his heart hitch in his chest for a brief moment. He quickly snapped his eyes straight forward and tried to ignore the large and active butterflies currently inhabiting his stomach.
“Vault number 687.” Griphook stated simply before hopping out of the cart. Harry and Hagrid were both quite glad to follow, Hagrid leaning heavily on a column. “Key, please.”
The goblin accepted the tiny golden key from Harry’s outstretched hand and placed it in the iron door’s lock. It clicked into place and the sound of a number of latches unlocking could be faintly heard through the thick metal. The door swung open with a whoosh of released air. The sight that met Harry almost knocked him over. Although covered in dust, the unmistakable glint of gold shone in the dim light of the vault. Harry found himself trying to calculate just how much gold this was but the stacks defied counting.
And it was all his. The goblin beside him passed him a leather pouch without a word.
“Didn’t think your parents would leave you with nuthin’ now did you ‘arry.” Hagrid had caught up with them and had reclaimed most of his usual ruddy colour. “Let me take that for you.” He tugged the pouch lightly from Harry’s hands and tossed a few handfuls of gold, silver, and bronze coins into it before passing it back. “That should get you yer school things an’ leave a little left over.”
After closing and locking the door, it was back on the cart. Rather than taking them back to the surface as Harry had hoped, it spiraled even deeper into the vaults. Harry could have sworn he has seen gouts of flame coming from some of the deeper tunnels. At long last they stopped at a vault marked “713.” The vault sat on the edge of a narrow ledge.
“I’ll just stay in the cart, alright?” Harry was trying very hard not to look down.
“Can’ say I blame yer Harry. I won’t be two winks.” And with that he stepped from the cart along with the goblin. When he returned he was patting one of his front pockets furtively. The ride back up to the surface was mercifully smooth.
Harry thanked Griphook as the goblin led him out into the brightly lit lobby. The goblin merely looked back at him dispassionately. The walk to the golden front doors passed silently, until Harry stepped forward into the sunshine. He drew the school equipment list from the pocket of his jeans.
“So Hagrid, what do you think we should get first?”
“Well, yer gonna want yer wand o’ course, and then maybe some school robes. An’ if it’s alright with you, I’m gonna have to take meself off to the old pub for a little pick me up.”
“Yeah,” Harry agreed, “Yeah I can look after myself for a while.” Hagrid looked at him with gratitude.
“Jus’ don’ go wanderin’ off now.” The giant said before he hurried away into the crowds of witches and wizards. Harry found himself alone in front of the imposing bank building. From where he stood he could see a plain looking old shop with “Olivanders” written above the door in skinny gold letters. A single wand sat in a display case in the window. Harry made that his first destination.
The bell above the door tinkled as Harry pushed open the door. He was immediately met with a medley of woody smells masked by musty cardboard and an oddly spicy smell that Harry assumed was part of the wand making process. Narrow boxes stood stacked on every flat surface save the cramped counter.
“Hello?” Harry called.
“Good afternoon.” Harry spun to find the voice. A bespectacled man stood watching him from behind a stack of especially old looking boxes. “I was wondering when I might be seeing you, Harry Potter.” Harry reached for his forehead. “Yes, I know who you are Mr. Potter. You look much like your father when he first came in here to purchase his wand, although you have your dear mother’s eyes.” The man said with a wistful look on his face.
“You sold my parents their wands?” Harry asked.
“Why of course, I have been selling wands for a very long time, Mr. Potter, a very long time. Now, let’s try to find one that suits you. Here, try this one.” He had drawn a long box from the pile in front of him as he approached the counter. He pulled out a pale stick of wood, roughly a foot in length my Harry’s approximation. Harry took the wand when it was proffered by Olivander. It sat inert in his hand. “Perhaps not.” Olivander said kindly.
Over the next few minutes, Harry tried wand after wand. He wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen, but Olivander ended up pulling each wand from his hand as soon as he had gotten a good hold of it. He tried a wand similar to his mother’s, his father’s, and eventually, Olivander stood before him with a box of deepest black.
“Perhaps…” He seemed to cradle the box slightly. “Try this one, holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches. Nice and supple.” Harry took the wand. At first there was nothing. Then, as if a fire had run up his arm, Harry was filled with a comfortable feeling warmth. A strong breeze in the still room ruffled his hair and a spray of red sparks shot from the end of the holly wand. “Curious… very curious.”
“What’s curious?”
Olivander offered him an off-kilter smile and whisked Harry away towards the archaic register that perched atop the box crowded front counter. With a swish of paper and the clink of coin, Harry was the owner of his very own magic wand. Olivander got very close to him and spoke in little more than a whisper. “They say, Mr. Potter, that the wand chooses the wizard. That this wand chose you, that is curious. For it just happens that the phoenix that gave the feather in this wand, gave one other. And that wand, well that wand chose the wizard that gave you that scar.”
Harry felt his eyes go wide as he absorbed the old wandmaker’s words. He looked down at the wand in his hand while the other went up to feel the familiar line that marked his forehead. He held the wand gingerly, as if it would snap at him where he not careful. Olivander chuckled slightly.
“I wouldn’t worry about this wand, Mr. Potter. It has chosen you, not your enemy. Treat it well and you’ll find it to be the most loyal of allies. I think that you are destined to great things. See to it that they are not so terrible as the owner of this wand’s twin. Now off you, go.” He gently pushed Harry towards the door.
Harry was deep in thought as he wandered out into the thin sunshine. A lot of the things the strange wandmaker had said didn’t make a lot of sense. He’d have to ask Hagrid about it when the two reunited. As for the wand… Harry looked down at it as he turned up the alley towards a storefront stacked with great piles of books. He carried the thin stick of holly with the feather of a phoenix clutched tightly to his chest as if it were made of pure gold. He felt no menace emanating from within, despite what Olivander had said about its brother. Harry supposed that you didn’t get to pick your family, even if you were a wand. The Dursleys were ample proof of that. No, Harry thought he and his wand were going to get along fine. In fact, the two of them almost buzzed with excitement at the chance to unleash a little magic into the world. Speaking of which…
The brassy bell rung on the door to Flourish and Blott’s, fine purveyors of spellbooks since 1454, according to the spidery lettering above the doorway. After the close and musty wand shop the bookstore was open and brightly lit. Everywhere he looked there were shelves of books. In relatively neat rows on the sales floor, tucked into odd corners and even marching across the ceiling in one place, as if the books were held to the roof by some strange trick of gravity. A number of adults and a great deal of children about his age were moving about the store. Harry took out his shopping list and read down to the first assigned textbook.
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One.
That sounded simple enough. Harry spent what felt like an hour amongst the stacks, pulling books at random and flipping through them. Harry was struck with just how much he didn’t know about magic and in that moment he pledged to learn everything he could about this world he’d finally been let into. No one would keep secrets from him again the way the Dursleys had, especially not these leather bound tomes. Harry grabbed one of everything on his list, plus a few others that struck his interest.
Hagrid had said that his parents had excelled in Transfiguration and Potions. Harry was determined that he would do them proud in both subjects. This determination was tested as he walked down the transfiguration aisle. All of the books here looked thick and heavy and the few that Harry pulled of the shelf were packed full of complex diagrams and tiny scrawling text. Even Transfiguration for Beginners, his assigned reading for his first year, looked worse than even his most loathed maths text. He grabbed both Transfiguration for Beginners and Transformative Fundamentals, a book an inviting blue cover decorated with swirling shapes that seemed to move on their own.
Potions was another story. All of the books on the shelves looked interesting and as Harry read he discovered that there seemed to be a potion for almost every conceivable application. He was tempted to grab an entire armful of the tomes, but settled for the assigned Magical Draughts and Potions, and One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. At the end of the aisle he found a thin, tall book adorned with imprints of gently bubbling cauldrons. The Potions Primer, the book proudly proclaimed itself. Harry couldn’t resist slipping it between the other two potions book. If he was going to excel at potions, he might as well go in as prepared as possible. To these he added the rest of his textbooks, capping off the pile with Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard. That last one wasn’t actually part of the list, but its cover promised an in depth and thorough solution to all his self-defense needs. Harry had hovered over the book for what had felt like ages, of two minds over the glossy, pale-blue, almost childish cover. On the one hand, it looked like something full of more fairy stories than fearsome fighting magic. On the other hand, the plain text spiraling across the back promised to tell everything that needed to be said on the subject of protecting yourself. And as the news that his parents hadn’t died in a car crash, the sad, sidelong looks Hagrid gave him when he thought Harry wasn’t looking, and the hush that had fallen about the denizens of the Leaky Cauldron all percolated through Harry’s young mind, he thought that he might want to know a thing or two about defending against the dark arts. Eventually it was fatigue that ended his waffling.
Already his arms were beginning to ache under the weight of the pile of heavy books, so Harry hauled them off to the front counter. He let them fall with a heavy thud, shocking the drowsy looking clerk to wakefulness. Harry left the store with a lighter coin pouch and more books than he had owned in his entire life. He was almost tempted to prop one open and begin reading there on the spot, though as his eyes fell on the robe shop across the narrow avenue, he thought better of it. Standing there, his face pressed up to the glass while two enormous ice creams dripped onto the cobbles as they melted, stood Hagrid. Harry felt a twinge of guilt as he shuffled up to the gentle giant. The man had asked him not to wander off, and though he’s likely been expecting Harry to go down the shopping list in order, but the lure of until now forbidden knowledge had been too strong.
“Looking for me?” Harry tried to put as much innocent playfulness into his voice as he could manage, but it did little to placate the huge man.
“’arry, what did I tell you about runnin’ off? What would ‘appen if some dark wizard dragged you off, hmm?” Harry at first rankled at being treated like a child, but thought better of it. The expression on Hagrid’s face was more worry than anger.
“I’m sorry Hagrid, it’s just I wanted to make sure I had all my books before I went buying other things, and look, I got my wand.” He drew the holly rod from his pocket.
“Jus’ don’t do it again, alright?” Hagrid seemed to deflate under his bushy beard. He passed the less melted ice cream cone to Harry. “I thought you might like somet’ on yer birthday.” They enjoyed what was left of the ice cream in silence outside the robe shop. After they had finished licking the left of the cream from their fingers, they went in to buy a full set of Hogwarts robes.
The rest of the morning passed quickly in a flurry of storefronts and packages. Harry bought a set of scales, a cauldron, ink, quills, and parchment, and after a visit to the apothecary that used up all but a few silver coins, he stood outside Eyelop’s Owl Emporium. Hagrid had mentioned that it would be incredibly useful to have his own post owl, but with the distinct lack of weight in his money pouch and another trip into Gringotts out of the question, he sadly turned to leave the magical avenue. On his way out beside Hagrid, they passed what looked from the outside like a sports shop. While Harry had no real interest in sports, magical or otherwise, the excitedly chattering crowd drew his attention. They seemed to have been drawn to a Nimbus 2000 racing broom, which Harry supposed was ridden in a game called “Quidditch” from what he overheard.
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I think the last time I actually wrote about my holidays was when I was maybe in 5th grade. First day of class in the new-year, they ask you to write an essay describing what you did during your term break. Here I am now, 17 years on, attempting to write about the holiday I just got back from. So pardon me if it’s not the best you’ve read.. Also, you could probably just look at the pictures and not read if that suits you!
Recently, I’ve been taking Bobbé on small trips for his birthday. Two years back, I took him on a weekend trip to Barcelona as he’s an avid supporter of FCB. Last year, I took him to Lake Como in Italy as he has always been keen on driving a speed boat and I thought the lake would be a good place for him to have a go at it. This year, I decided to venture a bit further than Europe. The Qatar Airways Travel Festival discount offers could not have been announced at a better time. After exploring the destinations and prices, I finally booked a week-long trip to Bali for the two of us for £800 return. Score!!!
First order of business, I decided, was to watch Eat, Pray, Love. (as cliché as it sounds) Bobbé had never watched the movie so we had a movie night to watch it. I simply love the movie, and so did Bobbé. (luckily!) We decided then and there that we must visit Ubud in Bali as we fell in love with the rice paddies and just the overall chilled lifestyle of the town portrayed by the movie. As Bali is quite a big island, (contrary to what Balinese people will tell you- hey, I’m from Maldives.. any island bigger than 2km from one end to the other is very big for me ok!) we decided to stay at a second town too. We decided on Semenyik as it’s close to the beach but not too crowded as it’s counter-part Kuta. I’m not going to bore you with our planning phase, instead I’ll just get right to it.
3rd March – Friday
Our flight was at 8.30pm so we left Southampton around 4pm to get to London Heathrow. The journey was just under 1.5 hours (which is a nice change from our usual drive to London Stansted which is 2 hours). Had an Italian dinner at Carluccio’s before our flight and did some duty-free window shopping. We were buzzing.
4th March – Saturday
After an 18 hour flight (including the transit in Doha, Qatar), we finally landed in Ngurah Rai International Airport in Denpasar, Bali at 11.15pm. May I add that Indonesia is one of the few countries to which Maldivians don’t require a travel visa. This may seem trivial to most people, but for us IT IS A BIG DEAL!
After 18+ hours of travelling, we’re finally in Bali! Poster reminding us we were in Bali in case we forgot
5th March – Sunday
We arrived at “Ayu Homestay” in Ubud at around 1.30am. They provided a hotel pick-up service at a cost of £28. We could’ve gotten it for cheaper, but we went with it anyway, given we landed around midnight and we were quite far from Ubud.
3 nights stay at this homestay cost us £30 and it included a great breakfast too! The place itself looked like a temple (To be honest, everywhere in Ubud looked like a temple!) It’s beautiful. It’s located right in the heart of Ubud near the monkey forest.
Room for the next 3 nights. £10 a night including breakfast. Well worth the money.
Clean toilets at Ayu Homestay
Free breakfast at Ayu Homestay made fresh to order <3
Outside our room
Entrance to Ayu Homestay
Bear in mind, at this point, we had travelled almost 24 hours door to door. We were knackered. But jet lag kicked in (plus all the excitement about exploring Ubud) and we struggled to fall asleep. We finally fell asleep around 5am and slept through both our alarms set for 7.30am. (it happens to everyone I guess? Ha!)
Fast-forward to 11am when we finally woke up, got dressed and headed out.
First thing we wanted to do was indulge our taste-buds with some Nasigoreng at Ibu Rai Bar & Restaurant. (Indonesian fried rice). Being Maldivians, we’ve always known and loved Nasigoreng as it’s quite popular back home. We were in Nasigoreng heaven. *drooool*
First Nasigoreng of the trip!
After a big breakfast/lunch/brunch (whatever you wanna call it), we spent a few hours just walking around and getting a general feel for the town. We were loving the chilled vibe!
Beautiful handmade works of art seen everywhere in Ubud
Walking the streets of Ubud
We rented a scooter for the 2 days we were going to be in Ubud. After all the travelling, eating and walking we decided to head to a spa. We drove to Karsa Spa (set in the midst of rice fields and offered reasonable prices) in hopes of booking an appointment. Unfortunately, the spa was fully booked for the next two days, so guys, we suggest booking in advance! The trip wasn’t a complete waste though; we ended up going to Karsa Café which is right next door and it offers stunning views of the rice fields.
Driving to Karsa Spa
Petrol sold in Vodka bottles
Peaceful huts to just relax and have some food and drinks
Enjoying a cold coconut (not enjoying being asked to pose tho)
Views from the hut
Rice fields seen from Karsa Cafe
Ubud is full of spas of all price ranges. Just because Karsa Spa was fully booked it didn’t keep us from not getting a massage. We ended up getting a massage near our homestay for under £6 for the both of us.
We ended the night with a delicious dinner at Warung Melting Wok.
6th March – Monday
We booked white water rafting in the Ayung River through Ayung Bali Rafting. Cost for the two of us was around £60, which included transport to and from hotel, rafting equipment, insurance, lockers, changing/shower area and lunch. Oh the lunch! Their website claims the buffet lunch is prepared by a 5 star chef. Not sure how true this is, but the food was definitely 5 star in our opinion.
Ready to set off!
Rapids of Ayung River. The guy would shout BOOM BOOM when it’s time to get ready for a big drop.
The pressure from the waterfall was intense!
Posing for pics.
Back to rafting.
Fun rapids!
Five star buffet lunch provided by Ayung Bali Rafting
We got back to our homestay around 1.30pm, rested for a bit, got dressed and headed out on a mission to conquer Tegalalang Rice Terrance, Goa Gajah and Tegenungan Waterfall. We also stopped at a café serving Luwak Coffee for a taste of Indonesia’s infamous “poop coffee”. The taste was interesting to say the least..
Views of Tegallalang rice terrace. Considered trekking down and seeing the fields up close but umm it was too hot. You can still admire its beauty from this view point!
Luwak coffee – made from part-digested coffee cherries eaten and defecated by the Asian Palm Chivet.
Goa Gajah aka Elephant Cave
Exploring Goa Gajah (the elephant cave)
Washing your face with the water being poured out from the bowls is meant to give you good health
Entrance to the cave. Feels like you’re being swallowed!
Huge tree in the temple grounds of Goa Gajah
For most temples, you’re required to wear a sarong if you’re not wearing a full-length dress/pants
Tegenungan Waterfall
The beautiful waterfall just a 20 min drive from Ubud.
Managed to get a shot without the crowd
After a day filled with activities, we treated ourselves at the spa…
Afterwards, we had dinner at Warung Sjaki. We were told that the money they make from the restaurant helps fund the “Sjaki-Tari-Us” school; a school for children and teenagers with mental disabilities. We were given a tour of the school right next to the Warung by two lovely ladies volunteering from Europe. There is also a small shop next to the school and restaurant that sell the teenager’s works of art. Worth visiting this place!
7th March – Tuesday
Last day in Ubud. Need.More.Time!
After Ayu Homestay’s filling healthy breakfast, we headed to Pura Ulun Danu Beratan which is a 1.5 hour ride. Along the way, you get to enjoy spectacular views of the rice fields and mountains.
Exploring temple grounds of Ulun Danu Beratan
Don’t you just love the clouds in the background making this picture of the temple even more perfect??
I gave Bobbé a tiny hat haha
This beautiful temple tho..
On the way back to Ubud, we stopped at a Warung called Spesial Bakmi Ayam Akai with rice terrace views. It cost us only £6 for 2 delicious nasigorengs and 2 soft drinks. How awesome is that?!
Highly recommend this restaurant for cheap eats with this scenic view!
All this for £6!!! We love our Fanta Strawberry
Happy and tanned us
Views of rice fields from the Warung
We came back to Ubud around 2pm. Had some dessert at Grandpa’s Coffee and Eats and decided to spend a few hours at the spa. Feeling refreshed, rejuvenated and any other synonyms you can think of, we headed to Ubud market for some serious haggling.
Haggling.
Beautiful dream catchers!
Are you seriously trying to sell for that price? haha
At around 7pm, we took a cab to Seminyak from Ubud for £12. The driver was lovely. He told us a bit about his life and dreams and how he wants to go to Paris someday with his girlfriend. How cute is that? We wish him all the best with his dreams :) If you’re looking for a driver in Ubud, give him a try! His name is Wayan Nur and you can call or WhatsApp him on +6285792666099 or +6287860338206.
Have I convinced you yet that you should be booking flights to Bali? If not, maybe this will sway you to go: our hotel “Sweet Room Sweet” in Seminyak for just £25 per night!
Bedroom at Room Sweet Room, Seminyak for just £25 per night
Huge shower area
Very clean and modern bathroom
Pool at Room Sweet Room
8th March – Wednesday
4th day in Bali and I’m getting lazy to write, so let me just do some bullet points.
Breakfast at The Coffee Library. Their Dragon Fruit Smoothie is ah-mayy-zinggg!
Drove to the Green Bowl Beach, one of the many hidden beaches in Bali
Sightseeing in Pura Uluwatu (sea temple)
Seafood dinner at Lia Cafe in Jimbaran Beach
Spa time in Seminyak
In love with the dragon fruit smoothie!
Green Bowl Beach
Trekking down towards the hidden beach
Beach views from inside the bat cave
Enjoying the peace
Or maybe just posing. who knows?
Uluwatu Temple
Uluwatu
Cliffs at Uluwatu
Off the beaten path..
Cheeky monkey pouncing on an unsuspecting Chinese tourist when he turned around
And stole his sunglasses!
Seafood dinner at Lia Cafe in Jimbaran Beach
Some seafood loving in Jimbaran Beach
9th March – Thursday
When we planned our trip, we decided that our stay in Bali would not be complete without spending a few nights at a private villa. Also, Bobbés birthday is the 11th of March, so we had an excuse to splurge a little.
After a hearty breakfast at Sisterfields we checked in to Bali Prime Villas which is just a 15 minute drive from Seminyak centre. We stayed here for 2 nights for a total of around £200. Included in this price was breakfast, 1 lunch, 1 dinner, 1 hour spa in the villa, private pool and transport to the airport/hotel. (We happened to stumble upon a really good deal on booking.com) We think this was very reasonable, especially given we saved a lot on the first two hotels.
Pool area
Kitchen/Dining area
Bedroom
Bathroom
Being showered by a half naked statue haha
After a good amount of time enjoying our private pool, we headed out for lunch at a place called Le Labu Health Centre. It’s a vegetarian restaurant with a yoga studio set in the middle of a rice field. We were the only ones there and we loved it. We then headed to Pura Tanah Lot for sunset.
Lunch at Le Labu. So chill!
Enjoying Le Labu’s Mango&Moringa smoothie
Nasi Campur. Must try!
Tried seaweed for the first time..
Pura Tanah Lot
How many Asian Palm Civets can you spot? This was at one of the café’s in Tanah Lot
Tanah Lot
Beautiful views of the temple at sunset
10th March – Friday
I have been wanting to go parasailing for a while now. Bobbé decided to treat me to a Parasailing Adventure in Nusa Dua in the morning. Whoop whoop!!!
Can you see how happy I am?
Thrilling!!!
So much fun!
Parasailing selfie
Got back to Seminyak around 1.30pm and headed to Totem Room Escape; our first time playing this! We were well excited and it was great fun. Sadly, we were just not smart enough to escape the final room. (Maybe next time?)
Quick lunch and then back to our villa for some spa time in our room and then off for a coffee at “Someplace Else Coffee & Lounge” before Bobbé’s birthday dinner that night. We also stopped for some great photo opportunities at a rice field on the way!
Good pancakes and chilled vibes..
Look at this cool chair!
Beautiful fields. Could not pass by without some pictures..
So much of this in Bali!
Dinner decorations
Bobbe’s birthday in our beautiful villa.
11th March – Saturday
It’s Bobbés birthday!!!
29
After a Nasigoreng breakfast (we probably had a bastha of nasigoreng that week), we went to Waterbom in Kuta which is meant to be the 2nd best waterpark in the world. Boy did we have fun!!! Unfortunately we only have videos from Waterbom and can’t upload videos on free wordpress account :( Came back to our villa around 1pm after getting a take-away Smoothie Bowl from Spicy Coconut.
We chilled out in the villa for the rest of the day till we checked out and headed to the airport promising ourselves we will be returning to this beautiful island with the kindest people we have met.
Bali, you have been a dream come true.
A week in Bali, Indonesia I think the last time I actually wrote about my holidays was when I was maybe in 5th grade.
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