#custom furniture in London

[finestfurnitureuk]

What Are The Benefits Of Custom Fit Furniture Over Regular Furniture?

Plenty of ready-made furniture in the marketplace may intrigue any person with its shine and charm. However, you may still find it lacking in terms of fitting in your space. There are chances that some parts of the furniture might not suit your space requirements. Nevertheless, attributes like material size, material type, price, affordability, color, and shade of furniture matter in deciding the furniture selection. Therefore, many opt for custom fit furniture to make curated that perfectly suit their space needs. Read more: https://medium.com/@finestfurnitureuk/what-are-the-benefits-of-custom-fit-furniture-over-regular-furniture-4a4ab9a69efb

#custom fit furniture #custom furniture in London #custom made wardrobes

[casadelux]

#London Custom Furniture

[midnightorchids]

I am kinda curious

What would Jason be like if the coffee Cafe owner!reader built in a small library in her Cafe just for him,like she saw he liked reading and went like 'yup. I am building a small library for him'

This is such a fun idea, but omg please forgive me, I went a little overboard. Once I figured out what to write, I couldn’t stop. I apologize for how long it is. Also, this is completely gender neutral, so anyone can read!

But omg also, I was literally kicking my feet and giggling writing the end lol, Anyways enjoy!

Owning a cafe was a difficult job, there was always much to do— customers to attend to, drinks to make, and maintenance to do. You were always busy, but you loved your job.

You had spent a lot of time curating the perfect atmosphere for your beloved customers. The lighting was warm, with fairy lights and lanterns dangling from the ceiling. There was wooden furniture and two old couches that sat by the glass windows. The tiny space smelled of freshly brewed coffee and sweet bread. The cafe was always inviting. 

You had many regulars at the coffee shop, each one with their own story, a different purpose.

For the past six months, twice a week, every Thursday and Saturday morning, a tall man walked in. Jason, you recalled his name from the many times you prepared his drinks. He’d order the same thing every time, a small London fog and a walnut banana bread.

He’d sit at the table nearest to the entrance, his back never towards the door.

Every morning, he’d come in with a new book. You had seen him read Franz Kafka, Oscar Wilde and Jane Austen; he’d read a lot of Austen.

He was a mystery and you wanted to know more. 

You found Jason quite handsome. His skin was scattered with scars and you often found yourself staring at the permanent wound near his lips. You wanted to run your fingers along it, to trace it, to kiss it. 

His eyes were always kind, a deep shade of green, forest-like you’d think to yourself. 

He spoke with kindness. His voice velvety and rich, much like the espresso you’d brew everyday, except his voice was never bitter, almost always doused with honey. 

Sometimes you’d catch him looking over at the counter, at you, you’d hoped. 

Your coworkers were afraid of him, telling you to stay away, but you couldn’t help yourself. He was like an enticing book, waiting to be read. They’d warn you, “do not engage in too much conversation with the strange man.” But it was as if they were talking to a small child, their words would go in one ear and out the other.

“Strange,” you would never use that word to describe him.

From the small talk you had with him, to his choice in books, to even his taste in tea, you’d never describe him as strange.

Gentle was the word you’d choose.

He was huge, all height and muscle, terrifying to most, however to you, he was everything but that. You saw an angel and you didn’t even know him… yet, you’d tell yourself.

There were days, where you almost gained the courage to ask for his number, maybe ask for small detail, perhaps get a glimpse of his life. But each attempt was futile. Why was it so hard to speak to him for more than five minutes, you’d curse your inability to speak to attractive men.

-

You were beginning to give up on your dreams of getting to know the beautiful stranger, when he walked in through door.

The conversation began as per usual.

“Morning Jason, what can I grab you today,” you asked politely. He smiled softly in return and you stare at the scar by his lip as he begins to speak.

“Uhh surprise me,” you look at him confused, he’s never done that before and he finds himself smiling harder. “Just kidding, I’ll just the take the usual please,” he says as he places his copy of Jane Eyre on the counter to take out his wallet.

“Brontë, why am I not surprised,” you reply, gazing at the book. You take the cash from his hands and your heart drops. Shades of purple and crimson coat his skin. They’re bruised, again.

“What can I say, I’m a man of taste,” he smirks. You roll your eyes and giggle.

“Now who told you that,” and he shrugs. Then there’s a lull, you don’t know what to say now. It isn’t awkward, but you find yourself starting feeling a little uneasy. God, if you only you could come up with something else to say. You shake your head slightly and begin to warm up his banana bread.

You turn around and wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t walk away to his usual table this time, instead he takes a seat next to the counter. Odd, you thought.

Jason’s gaze doesn’t leave you for a second, he watches you in admiration, you don’t quite catch on.

If you thought Jason was handsome, then he thought you belonged in a museum. You were a work of art in his eyes. The kind of beauty they wrote poetry about. Absolutely stunning.

He wanted to get to know you, speak to you, but he was afraid. If you didn’t reciprocate his feelings, then he may never be able to see you again. The trips to the cafe would no longer be necessary and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

However today, Jason pushes his fears aside, he feels bold. He finds his confidence and he speaks.

“Do you read much,” he asks suddenly. You place his cup of tea and bread in front of him, and nod your head.

“I do, but not what you read,” you reply and he stares into your eyes, curious. “I mostly read magazines, you know Vogue and stuff,” his smile drops a little, he’s trying really hard to not look judgemental. Cute, you think. “Kidding, I read fantasy mostly,” and his face lights up again.

“So like J.K. Rowling,” he questions.

“No, Harry Potter’s good, but I’m not really a fan of her, you know as a person. I’ve been reading a lot Neil Gaiman recently though,” you say.

“Oh fuck, yeah, she’s said some pretty crazy stuff huh,” and you nod again. “Gaiman though, I don’t think I’ve ever read his stuff before, he any good,” he asks and your eyes go wide, you’re excited.

You spend the next hour of his visit speaking to him about books, about the things that you both like.

You only part from the conversation when there was a customer.

You’ve never felt this way before, all the assumptions you made about him were true. He was an angel, a kind and gentle one.

-

A month goes by and you notice your relationship with Jason change. Now, instead of sitting by the entrance of the cafe, he sits near you, back against the door. A sign of trust, you assumed. He smiled more, he showed his teeth and he laughed, hard. You loved the sound of his laugh. His eyes looked brighter, greener, emerald-like. He still walked in with a new book, but when the conversation began, it was long forgotten.

You watched his bruises heal and you watched new ones appear, you were always curious, but never had the courage to ask. He’d tell you when he was ready.

As time went by, you found yourself wanting to do something for him, you wanted him to know that you cared. You thought that if your words were going to fail you, then maybe your actions would prove otherwise.

-

Working a closing shift at the cafe on a gloomy Tuesday evening, you find yourself thinking of different gestures you could do.

Ideas came and left, nothing felt good enough. He deserved the best. Trying to busy your mind elsewhere, you begin to sweep the floors and that’s when inspiration hits you.

There, in the coffee shop, lies an empty corner. An odd spot, not necessarily small, but also not large enough either.

A perfect fit for a decently sized bookshelf. A library, for the community, but most importantly for Jason. You smile to yourself, proud at the thought. He’d love this, you knew he would.

The next morning you find yourself drilling holes into the pale walls of the cafe, trying attach the large shelf you lugged down to the shop.

Once everything was fixed into its rightful place, you begin adding the books, by genre and then by the authors’ last names. You add many of Jason’s favourites, multiple copies of Austen. You add children’s books, comics and something for yourself.

The shelf fits right into the ambiance of the cafe, elevating it honestly. The corner looked cosy and you found yourself wanting to sit by one of the couches with a book and a cup of hot chocolate.

You stare at the shelf once more, proud. Now, you just had to wait.

-

Jason walks into the cafe the next day, he’s late. He arrives near closing time. It’s just you and him in the cafe, most of your staff left for the day and not many people stayed this late. It’s quiet, the only sound coming from the machines on your side of the counter. He’s holding another book in his hand, but he has no intention of reading tonight.

His hair is slicked back, and there’s a small cut on his forehead. He’s dressed in a white dress shirt and black pants. He looks like he’s coming back from a big event or maybe he’s going to one later. Either way, he looks pretty like this, his arms look more defined and you can make out the muscles on his back when he walks around the room, waiting for his drink.

His eyes wander around the cafe before settling on the bookshelf nestled in the odd corner. His eyes soften, he’s never noticed that before, it must be new, he thinks.

“When’d you get this,” he asks, his fingers running along the spines of the books. He’s smiling, there’s so many books.

“Yesterday, it’s for you,” you say, holding your breath. This is it, the moment you’ve been preparing for.

“For me,” he looks over at you as you settle his tea on the counter. You begin walking over to his side, slowly, riddled with nerves.

“Yes, since you’re always here, I thought you’d like having a book shelf here. It’s like a library, you take a book and then you-“ he cuts you off suddenly.

“You made a library for me in your cafe, are you serious,” he’s trying to hold back a smile, you can tell. His scar gets more prominent when he does that. “Why,” he as asks, his voice is soft, it feels like warm milk with honey, comforting.

“You’re gonna make me say it,” you can’t see your face, but it feels hot, you can tell you’re blushing.

“Yeah, say it. Why is there a library in your cafe for me,” he says, enunciating the words “your” and “for me.” He’s smirking now. He knows the answer, he just wants to hear it from you.

The point of the library was to not have to say anything, for your actions to speak for you, but here you are. Ears burning and palms clammy.

“I…,” you trail off, you look around the room, anywhere but his face. He notices and walks closer, his hands gently make their way around your waist.

“Say it,” he exclaims, it’s not forceful, he’s smiling and shades of pink dust his cheeks.

You close your eyes shut, fuck, you’re going to have to say it.

“I really like you jas-,” and with that, his lips find their way to your own. You move in harmony, much like matcha and oat milk. His lips are sweet, he tastes like the banana bread, he decided to eat while pacing around the cafe. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, you pull back and smile. You peck his lips. Once where the scar is and once more on the centre. He grins.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear that from you,” he mumbles against your lips, waiting for you to kiss him again.

And you do, you kiss him again and again.

#gn!reader #jason todd #red hood #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd headcanon #red hood headcanon #batfam

[bragtechads]

Walk in wardrobes London with out doors and are becoming the most popular customer choice with our new range of bespoke tailored made designs.

#fitted wardrobes and bedrooms #Sliding Doors #Fitted Bedrooms #Fitted Kitchens #Fitted Wardrobes #High Gloss Ranges #Loft Angled #Sliding Wardrobes in London #Walk in wardrobes #Angled Wardrobes #Wardrobe Interiors #Bespoke Fitted Wardrobes #Sliding Doors in London #Bespoke Fitted Bedroom #Cheap Built in Wardrobes London #Loft Wardrobes in London #Home Office Furniture UK #Loft Bedroom Wardrobes #Custom Made Wardrobes

[rheya28]

Windenburg Train Station [Restaurant + Cafe ] ♥ The Sims 4: Speed Build // CC

♥ Hi guys, Today I present to you The Windenburg Train Station located in Windslar. This train station is known for it's Classical Architecture and beautiful historic interiors that has been conserved for decades. While the interior was updated with modern furniture's, the overall structure and essence of the building remains the same.

Located inside is a 5 star restaurant, "Florentine," and a café, "Stella's Cafe," where sims can dine and lounge while waiting.

The Windenburg Train Station is a multifunctional lot athat can be set as a restaurant or a Cafe. Some Spaces were left empty as I did not want to overly clutter the space with too many custom content. Feel free to decorate it!

Considering that this is a multifunctional lot, I recommend downloading LittleMsSam's Lock Door mod to lock doors in community lots. This will give you more control of the space. If you want your sims to specifically be seated inside the restaurant, I suggest locking the doors to the cafe and other parts of the building.

READ ME ♥ Please make sure to turn on bb.moveobjects on! ♥ Please DO NOT reupload or claim as your own. ♥ Feel free to tag me if you are using it, I love seeing my build in other peoples save file but please make sure to credit me. ♥ This is a huge build and is very cc heavy, so beware. I did however tried to use cc's from the same creators so it is easier to manage and download! I used alot of cc's from @felixandresims @harrie-cc @charlypancakes @pierisim and more!

SPEED BUILD VIDEO

0:02 Intro

1:51 Speed Build

28:21 Photos

♥ Lot Details:

Lot Name: The Windenburg Train Station

Lot size: 64x64

Location: Winslar, Windenburg

♥ MODS:

TOOL MOD by TwistedMexi

♥ CC LIST:

Note: I reuse a lot of the same cc in all my builds, specifically cc's from felixandre, HeyHarrie, Tuds, and Pierisim so if you're interested in downloading past, present, future build from me i suggest getting all their cc sets to make downloading a little easier! other creators include Sooky, Charlypancakes, Sixam, Thecluttercat, Myshunosun, awingedllama, Peacemaker, kiwisim4. This will also ensure that the lots are complete and are not missing any items upon downloading !

Awingedllama: Boho Living, Apartment Therapy, Nostalgia Living

Sooky: Paintings (all)

Felixandre x Harrie: Baysic, Jardane, livin Rum, Orjanic, Kichen

Caiocc: Cozy Set up

Charly Pancakes: Munch, Maple & S Construction, Lighthouse Collection, Chalk, Miscellenea, Modish, Slouch

FelixAndre: Chateau, Berlin, Colonial, Florence, Gatsby, Georgian, Gothic Revival, Grove, Kyoto, London, November 2017 set, Paris, Shop the look Season 2, Florence, Berlin

Harrie: Heritage, Coastal, Brownstone, Kwatei, Octave, Shop the look, Spoons

Kaiso: Rusti.co

Kiwisim4: Blockhouse Dining

Little DicaL Countryside Cabin, Greasy Goods, Rise & Grind, Roman Holiday

Madame Ria: Basic Luxe Kitchen, Cottage Living Wallpaper addon solid colours no wood,

Mycupofcc: Maple Manor

TheCluttercat: Dandy Diary, Sunny Sundae

Myshunosun : Daria, Dawn Living, Herbalist Kitchen

Peacemaker: Hamptons, Mina Kitchen

Pierisim: Autie Vera, Coldbrew, David Apartment, Domain Du Clos, MCM, Oak House, The office, Tilable, Winter Garden

Charlypancakes x Pierisim: Precious Promises

The plumbob Tea society: Cottage Garden

mlysmakescc: Pufferhead

Surelysims: Office space

Sixam: Hotel Bedroom

Tuds: Cave, Cross, IND

Taurus Design: Angela Bedroom, Lilith Chilling Areas

Whos is Sage: SImply striking Kitchen

♥ Tray file ���Origin ID: Applez ●Twitter: Rheya28__ ●Tiktok: Rheya28__ ●Patreon: Rheya28 ●Youtube: Rheya28__

#sims 4 #ts4 #sims #thesims4 #showusyourbuilds #sims 4 builds #builds #thesims #the sims 4 screenshots #build

[an0ther1]

Two Is Always Better Than One pt.2

Leah x Alessia

A/N: This is the “2nd” chapter of a 3 part short series I have on AO3. Thanks for all the dog name suggestions.

“LEE! LEAH! Swear I need to put a tracking device on you in this house.” Leah could hear from down the hall.

“In the study, love.” Leah was setting up their football photos throughout the room. They had been in the house for 3 weeks now. They had some custom built-ins made for the study and painted a few rooms before all their furniture and personal items were moved in. They still had a few things to unpack.

“That Martha woman got back to me!” Alessia started before she crossed the threshold. When she entered the room and saw the confusion on Leah’s face she continued. “The lady with the foster puppies the shelter told us about. Remember, the shelter we went to on Tuesday told us about those puppies that had been found by the pond in London Colney, they nicknamed them the Gooners.”

“OH YEAH!”

“Want to go meet them?”

“Right now?” Leah was still on the step ladder trying to hang an enlarged print of Alessia’s back heel goal against Sweden.

“YES! Before someone else takes the puppy that is meant to be with us!” Alessia smacked her hands against her thighs like a child that was utterly frustrated with having to explain themselves. However this was the first time they had talked about this litter of foster puppies aside from the initial mention of them at the shelter. “You promised me I could have a dog.” Alessia whined.

Leah finally got the picture on the hook in the wall and straightened before descending the small ladder. “Of course we can go see them.”

“YEAH?”

“Yes beautiful” Leah walked over and dropped a kiss to the top of Alessia’s head. “Let me just change my shirt.”

Alessia squealed. “I’ll get the keys and meet you in the car!” Then she was off down the hall, leaving Leah just standing there.

“Never again.” Leah muttered to herself.

15 minutes later they were in a village a stones throw from the training center. “These puppies are Gooners born and raised. One of them is definitely ours!” Alessia bounced in the passenger seat as Leah pulled the car over in front of a small white cottage. She had the door open before Leah even got the engine shut off. The defender could only laugh at her girlfriend's excitement. Alessia at least waited for Leah to catch up before she knocked on the door.

A few puppies could be heard yapping behind the door as well as a woman trying to calm them down. “Saka, get off of Declan. Leah! No, stop pushing Kai around. Little, get a handle on your team.”

Leah and Alessia just looked at each other. The door opened a moment later to reveal an older woman with dark hair that was graying around her face. She had her head turned back towards the dogs in the house when she first greeted the couple. “Hello, sorry for all the yapping. But trying to control 10 pups is-” She stopped mid sentence when she finally turned to face the blondes. “Bloody hell, you’re Alessia Russo and Leah Williamson.”

“That’s us!” Alessia said cherrily. “I emailed you about meeting the foster pups.”

“Really?”

Alessia glanced over at Leah for a moment. “Ah, yeah. I mean, are you Martha?”

“I am.”

“Then I do believe you were the one I was emailing with.”

“Oh. Yes, yes. Sorry. I just. You’re Alessia Russo.” The women then turned to Leah. “And your-” The woman shook her head. “Sorry, I just can’t believe that you two are standing at my door. And clearly my manners have completely left me. Come in. Please.” The woman stood back in the entryway to allow the footballers in. “I have 2 real life Gunners here to meet my Gooners.”

Leah laughed. “It would seem that way. And thank you for letting us come meet them.”

“Oh yes, of course. So, umm.” The woman pointed towards a couch in the living room. “Please have a seat there, or on the floor if you like. So yeah, I’m Martha.”

“Hello Martha. So did you say you have 10 puppies right now?” Leah asked.

“Yes. There are the 6 Gooners that were found near the pond. And then I have 4 others from a pregnant foster I took in. They were born about a week before I took the pups. Since no mother was found with the Gooners, Emilia stepped up and took the 6 in with her own. She’s in the garden right now having a bit of a break.” Martha smiled.

“I thought I heard you say a few names as you came to the door?” Alessia lowered herself onto the floor in front of the couch, which got the attention of several puppies who came bounding over to inspect the new person.

“Oh yes.” Martha chuckled. “All of the pups are named after players. So that one there is Kaka, and that’s Kai. The blonde one is Leah.”

Alessia scooped that one up first. “Well don’t you have the perfect name, pretty girl.” She cooed.

“The one with the long skinny legs is Stina. The dark one is Declan. And then,” Martha looked around the room and continued pointing and naming pups as she saw them. “There is Frida, Foxy, and Victoria.”

“I thought I heard you say Little, and that’s only 8.” Leah pointed out just as there was a crashing sound from somewhere in the house.

The older woman huffed. “That would be McCabe. And I’m sure Little is right behind her trying to get her to stop whatever mischief she has gotten herself into. I’ll be right back.” She headed out of the room.

“She can’t be serious.” Leah said quietly.

“Oh I can’t wait to tell the girls about this.” Alessia said as she rubbed the bellies of 2 of the pups.

A moment later Martha returned with a dog under each arm. A black one who was squirming in an attempt to escape, and a caramel colored one who seemed satisfied the other one had been captured. “These two, are Little and McCabe.”

“Do we need to ask which is which?” Leah chuckled.

“Your guess will be correct, I promise you.” The woman laughed as she set them both down.

McCabe shook like she had just gotten out of a bath before realizing there was someone new sitting on the floor and taking off like a tiny rocket. She barrelled through 2 other puppies before slamming into Alessia at full speed. “You are true to the namesake I see.” Alessia said as she picked the puppy up.

Little sat in the middle of the room for a moment, watching and observing all the other dogs before she seemed to decide everyone was where they should be and wandering over to Leah. She sniffed the defender's outstretched hand before sitting up on her hind legs to be picked up. “Well aren’t you a well mannered little thing.”

“She is definitely the responsible one of the bunch. We think she was the one that kept all the puppies together at the pond as she always seems to be rounding them up and checking on everyone. And then that one.” Martha pointed at McCabe. “Well her and Little are now connected at the hip because she’s always getting into something and Little is always trying to pull her back. Which is funny because McCabe is not one of the 6 Gooners.”

“Yeah, McCabe seems a bit bigger. But she’s younger, yeah?” Alessia asked.

“That’s correct. But, Little is her keeper. So much so that I’m hopeful they’ll find a home together.”

“Awe, aren’t you a sweet one.” Leah had Little on her back in her lap rubbing her chest. “Any idea what they are? Like breeds? They’re all kind of small”

“Well Emilia is part Dachshund. But she is mixed with something a bit heftier too, like a corgi maybe. And then I would guess the Gooners are Dachshund as well, but mixed with something smaller like another terrier. They have rounder snouts too.”

McCabe started getting feisty in Alessia’s lap and immediately Little rolled over from her relaxed position in Leah’s lap and jumped to the floor. She snipped lightly at McCabe’s ear causing the black pup to stop immediately.

“See. Little runs things.”

Alessia was giggling as she picked up McCabe close to her face. “At least you listen to your captain.” The puppy began squireming wildly until the footballer set her down, before taking off across the room full speed, Little hot on her heels. “Those two are adorable.” Alessia began calling over the other puppies who were happy to gain the blonde's attention.

Without a puppy in her own lap Leah pulled out her phone and began taking photos of her girlfriend with several of the pups in her lap, a bright smile on her face. She took several more photos over the next 20 minutes while Alessia rolled around on the floor with the dogs. Every so often you could hear a small bark from across the room and then McCabe would wander back to the middle of the room under Little’s watchful eye. And each time Little seemed satisfied that McCabe was going to stay with the group, the caramel colored pup sat itself at Leah’s feet.

“Kindred spirits it would seem.” Alessia said after the 3rd time.

Leah leaned down and rubbed the dog's ear, causing Little to slump over into her leg. “So it would seem.” She smiled softly.

Slowly one by one the puppies started to lose momentum and began curling up together throughout the room. Little was still settled next to Leah’s feet when McCabe came over and nudged the other dog. When she got no reaction, she crawled up into Alessia’s lap just above Little and plopped down.

Martha smiled at the footballers. “Looks like they’ve taken a liking to you.”

Alessia leaned her head back against the couch looking up at Leah. The look in her eye told Leah everything the younger woman was thinking before she even said anything. “You know, two is always better than one.”

“Is that so?” Leah smirked.

“One is so lonely.” Alessia pouted.

“I spend enough time yelling at McCabe as is.” Leah paused. “We are not keeping that name.”

“REALLY?!” Alessia squealed, waking several of the puppies. All except McCabe it seemed. “Martha, if we wanted to make these 2 ours?” She turned to the older woman.

“I would expect regular Instagram uploads to see how they are doing.” The woman smiled. “This is a private foster situation, so there really isn’t any paperwork or anything to be done if that’s what you’re asking. There are just some questions I like to ask.”

“Fire away!” Alessia hugged a sleeping McCabe to her chest.

“Do you have a fenced yard?”

“Yup! A big one! With lots of things to explore.” Alessia answered.

“Do you have a vet lined up?”

“Beth and Viv said they would give us the information for their vet. Said they highly recommend them. Especially for puppies.” Alessia played with the still sleeping dogs' ears.

“Wonderful. You two do travel. Do you have care lined up for when you are away?”

“We have several people willing to stay at the house with them.” Leah answered.

Martha took a deep breath and exhaled. “Well then. After seeing the four of you together, if you would like to take those babies home with you, I think you would be a great fit for them.”

Alessia spun around on the floor with McCabe in her arms, bright blue eyes looking at Leah. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Leah bent down and picked up the sleeping puppy at her feet. Little only opened her eyes slightly, clearly not caring about being handled. “You want to come with us and keep an eye on that little bugga for good? Hmm?”

Martha stood up. “Well then, let me get their things. They each have a toy and blanket. I’ll also give you a bag of the kibble they currently eat. You can keep them on the same brand or change it. You’ll just want to mix this one with whatever you get to help ease their body into the change. And then I have quick info care sheet.” The woman exited the room.

“Are we really taking them home Lee?”

“Yeah Lessi.”

Alessia rose up from the floor to sit on the couch next to Leah. “Thank you, Leah.” She kissed the other blonde softly. “I love you.”

“And I love you.” Leah smiled as she leaned in for another kiss. “I did promise we would get a dog when we had a home with a garden, and I keep my promises.”

“That you do.”

“Alright. Here we are.” Martha reentered the room. “These belong to Little.” She held up a gray blanket and stuffed rabbit. “And these belong to McCabe.” She held up a red blanket and. . .

“Is that a shin pad?” Leah asked with a twisted face.

“It is. I honestly have no idea where it came from. Might be an old thing that belonged to one of my boys that she pulled from a closet.” She shrugged. “But as you can see from the teeth marks, she loves it.”

“She is going to need a new name before we introduce her to any of the girls.” Leah shook her head.

“Do we? It just seems to fit so well.” Alessia whined.

Leah leveled her with a glare.

“Fine.” Alessia rolled her eyes. “Martha, do you take donations or anything to help take care of these little ones or other fosters.”

“I personally don’t. I’m fortunate enough to be able to have a few fosters at once and manage. But if you would like, please donate to the shelter that sent you my way. They’re the ones that need the most help.”

“I will do that then.” Alessia smiled. “Alright McCabe. Are you ready to go see your new home? How about you, Little?” She scratched behind the ear of the pup in Leah’s lap before standing up with McCabe in her arms. Leah followed suit with Little in her arms.

Martha handed the items for each puppy to the footballer that was holding them. She leaned in and placed a kiss on top of each dog's head. “You behave.” She said to McCabe. “And keep her out of trouble.” She said to Little. “Right. I’ll get the door.”

Leah and Alessia followed Martha to the door. “Thank you so much Martha. It was a pleasure meeting you. And we’ll be sure to post plenty of pictures to keep you updated.” Alessia started.

“Yes, thank you very much.” Leah echoed.

“I can’t wait to see the official announcement with the names you pick.” Martha opened the door. “It was lovely meeting you both. Take care.” She remained on the porch and waved as the couple drove away.

On the way home, they made a stop at the pet shop for essential supplies. Mostly. They got a playpen to help contain the pups in the kitchen, or outside until they were a bit bigger, pee pads, puppy training treats, collars, harnesses and leads, and half the toy aisle. Alessia wanted to let the dogs have anything they picked. So every single toy that McCabe picked up and thrashed about went into the trolly. Little had picked up a single toy and carried it throughout the entire shop and car park as she sat in the trolly.

“We should have got that carrier that holds the dog to your chest like a baby.” Leah said as she held tightly to a wiggling puppy. “McCabe, seriously.”

“Here.” Alessia grabbed one of the toys they had purchased and handed it to Leah, which was swiftly snatched by the black pup who began thrashing in the defender's arms. “Calm down Stitch.”

Leah stopped walking. Alessia stopped the trolly a few steps later, turning back to her girlfriend. “What?” The striker asked over her shoulder.

“McCabe is Stitch. And Little is Lilo.” Leah looked at each pup as she said the names.

Alessia looked between the dogs and Leah. “Oh my gawd, Le! They are!” She scooped the caramel colored puppy out of the trolly. “What do you think Little? Hmm? I think Lilo would be a perfect name for you. And she.” She turned towards Leah and the other pup. “Is definitely Stitch.” Alessia took a few steps to Leah. “Lilo and Stitch, yeah?”

“Lilo and Stitch.”

Alessia gave Leah a quick kiss. “Come on. Let’s get the car loaded.”

The couple continued through the car park and loaded their items into the boot. Each pup still holding on to a toy. When they were settled into their seats, Alessia pulled out her phone. “Hold Stitch for a sec, Le. I want to send a pic to the girls.”

StarGirl23: jpeg.

StarGirl23: Anyone want to come over and meet Lilo and Stitch?

#woso community #woso fanfics #woso soccer #leah williamson #alessia russo #arsenal women #arsenal wfc

[dark-is-d3ad]

OK, I'm moving soon, and I'm currently sitting in the middle of my ravaged flat surrounded by boxes, jars, and all sorts of things you never know you even had before it's time to go pack them up.

So here's a bunch of soapghost headcanons about moving in together.

• They end up helping each other to pack things. The flat they chose is a two-bed in Epping, really close to the forest. Easy to get to when they come back for a break, technically still in London, but in a quieter area on the outskirts of the city. Ghost checked for a multitude of things, including ways to get in and to retreat, hidden cameras, and he's making a custom surveillance system for it. You can never be too safe, right?

• The second bedroom is going to become Johnny's art studio. Ghost has dibs on the living room, he's got a huge TV and a PS5. And his humongous bookshelf will also go in there. They plan it out perfectly, so that they can spend time together, but also can have their alone time without bothering each other.

• Ghost refuses help at first, but then Johny just shows up with his portable speaker, and hangs out with him. It's a little distracting, and he has way too many books, they run out of boxes. Ghost never tells him, but he's grateful, it was getting overwhelming.

• Ghost's place looks neat, if not a little barren, his things are all sorted to perfection. He's got a collection of shotguns, too. And a huge table, perfect size to work on them comfortably. Cleaning and servicing guns never fails to calm him down. His favourite is an older one, a Benelli M2. It's in pristine condition albeit a little worn, its barrel needs to be changed because it can only last through so much shots, but Ghost kinda wants to keep it as it is, even though it's not practical. He's sentimental about it. They spend a lot of time packing them all up carefully.

• Johny actually asks him to come over, because his adhd gets unmanageable when he goes through all his things, and it's easier if a very specific person makes him stay on track, otherwise he'd be still stuck there reading his diaries and going through his pile of sketchbooks, and oh, the drawing supplies, he has the urge to use that beautiful box of designer gouache his sister gifted to him literally right now because he forgot about it, and now it's so tempting. Ghost thinks of it as of a mission, so he comes up with a strategy and keeps it tactical. And he makes Soap take breaks every once in a while.

• Soap's stuff doesn't fit into the van. Even with the furniture dismantled and packed, he's got so much things, a lot of them art supplies, a huge easel, half-finished paintings, canvases he forgot about or he hadn't had time to come back to. And his bed is freaking huge. They finally cram it in, but it's a really tight squeeze. Comparing to this, Ghost's was half-empty. Thank god their new place is on the bigger side.

• Ghost gets distracted, too, when they pack the paintings. He's not an artsy kinda guy, yet they are so good, he's entranced. It's Johnny's turn to make him focus. Soap doesn't think much of his art, and Ghost makes a mental note to compliment it more often. He really wants to see more. Hell, he'd even pose, if Soap ever asks for it. He won't tell him though.

• There's a "do not touch" black sketchbook with a little white scull drawn on the cover, and Soap flushes deep red and packs it away in record times. Ghost is intrigued beyond measure. He has assumptions of what's in there, and he sneakily checks it out when Soap goes to pack his clothes. It's full of sketches of him. Soap actually took his time to study him, he thinks, even the tattoos are all looking exactly right. The ones from the shower make him wonder if Soap actually memorised him that well or he got some sneaky reference pics (how did he manage that, the bastard). It's got notes, too. It takes an effort not to read them, but Ghost feels like he already intruded a bit too much, so he puts the sketchbook back where it was. Just in time, because Soap pops out with an absolutely ridiculous coat in his hands, and goes "hey, look what I used to wear when I was 18!"

• Ghost has a freaking lot of random jars. They're all empty. When asked about it, he confesses that he wanted to make jam, his grandfather used to make a lot of it every summer. It's one of the good memories he has, and there's not so many of them. He tried to make it once, but failed, and had to throw away the whole batch. They keep each and every one, although it seems stupid.

• Johnny's art stuff is a whole lot. He's got tree branches and clay, and a fucking mannequin (it scares Ghost every time he walks in Soap's living room, because his side vision registers it as a person, and he can't get over it). The mannequin has a crooked smiley face drawn on it with a sharpie. There's sheets of metal, fabric, a lot of acrylic, and a ton of instruments. He was trying to get into modern sculpture, Soap says, it didn't really work out. Needs more 3d thinking. Ghosts proposes to try again after they move. He's good at fixing stuff, and he's really good at guerilla warfare, they'll find a way to make even the weirdest thing Soap comes up with hold together.

• Soap's got little led garlands wrapped on every vertical thing at his place. At first Ghost thinks it's stupid, but when the night comes, and Soap lights all of them up, it actually feels almost magical. They sit on the floor with mugs of tea and coffee, and, although it's messy and everything is moved out of place, it's still beatiful, and it feels so safe. Ghost finds himself feeling more like a 5 y o than he probably ever did, sitting there just watching lights slowly light up and fade. He's never been good at making his places cozy. He'll ask Soap to work on their new flat to make it more like that. He really wants the lights there, too.

• Johnny's mugs are all different. He's got the "guns and coffee" with a redrawn Starbucks logo, the mermaid holds two pistols. Ghost gets the "under all your tattoos you're still a mainstream cunt" one when it's Johnny's turn to make tea. He pretends to be offended. There is a pink one with "unt" on it. It makes sense when Soap turns it, and the handle finishes the word. There's one with lots of bees, and it reads "bear daddy". Ghost makes the stupidest jokes about it.

• Ghost hasn't got a lot of kitchenware, and all his plates and mugs are white, the cheapest ones from IKEA. And he's only got one chair. No guests - no need. Johnny finds it a little depressing, but says nothing.

• Johnny's spicerack is probably the second biggest collection he has after his art stuff. He likes cooking, and he likes trying new recipes. His favourite go-tos sit separately on the kitchen counter. Ghost has to admit that he's really good. Ghost's spices are just salt and pepper, which gets him "and you live like that? Lt!" from Soap.

• When they finally move their stuff in, a call from Price comes. There's things to do like right now, get ready in 5, be at base in an hour and a half. Ghost likes his work, yet he can't help but get a little grumpy. He really wanted to get it over with. And to see what comes out of it with all things in place. And to have a chill evening with Johnny, watching these little lights again with some quiet ambient playing on the background. "It's OK," Soap says, "we'll get it sorted when we come back."

OK, that's gonna be it for now, I have a sad option and a silly option to go for, but I'd rather make a part two and separate them.

#ghostsoap #soapghost #headcanon #moving

[tinydeskwriter]

CINEMA {Chapter I}

A/n: Someone wrote a lovely comment describing y/n and harry as “ ex lovers with unconditional love that never truly go out of style trope” which is now my very favorite way to describe it, unfortunately, my careless self deleted the comment while trying to delete my own reply—because I post it without being finished (tumblr doing me dirty)— so I dedicate this to her/him/they (?), thank you for the amazing comment.

Thank you to everyone that replied to my desperate need of help to choose Y/n ‘s ex-boyfriend…

I honestly hope not to disappoint you guys with this first chapter, I just wanted to give a first glimpse of Harry and Y/n’s ‘friendship’ dynamic. Also, it’s almost Harry’s birthday!!

Cinema | Previous Part 1.Boyfriends

Harry holds the door open with one hand, as he hold a cup carrier with four coffee drinks in the other—Luis is arriving soon, and Rebekah must already be somewhere in the house with Y/n—, he doesn’t know most of the people passing by him, from the group of fifteen+ he recognizes Chrystal, Y/n lawyer—who in more than one occasion back when they’re dating, managed to get out of circulation invasive paparazzi shots of the young couple—and Monica, her publicist since 2012, Rebekah was right behind them, escorting them all to the door.

Rebekah is their age, pixie hair, New York accent, always in flowy blouses and high waist jeans, Y/n’s PA, friend and confidante.

“Good morning H, I am going to take this, thank you.” The woman took her usual order and went back inside, turning back a few steps in, “She’s in the music room.”

“Thank you Bekah.” He said closing the door behind himself and taking the opposite direction from the PA.

The music room was one of Y/n favorite places in her house, a large space with two walls made of glass overlooking the pool, with a view of the city and the park. It’s where she keeps her prized Concert Grand Piano in custom Sycamore wood adorned with a gold leaf mural of London’s skyline around the entire case of the piano, a twenty-first birthday gift by Harry—which her boyfriend at the time saw as competition and got her a 61’ Rolls Royce Silver Cloud II in an auction. 

Y/n’s enviable guitar and vinyl collections occupied the two inner walls, the only sitting furniture in the room—other than the piano bench—was the Bellini U-shaped couch from the 70’s in burnt orange velvet and Gucci throw pillows. The piece de resistance was the Brionvega RR126 Y/n inherited from her grandfather.

He found her laying in the couch reading what seemed to be a script.

She looked completely fine for someone who just sold 50% of what she called ‘her first born’, Harry was honestly expected a little bit of nostalgia or melancholia from his little love.

“Got you coffee.” He put the cup in her hand and kissed the top of her head as a greeting before sitting down next to her, his own coffee in hand.

Y/n hadn’t even took her eyes out of the pages.  

“How are you feeling?”The question finally made her put the script down on her lap, and sip her coffee before looking at him.

“I feel like I just sold half of my soul to the devil for $500million dollars.” She said deadpanned. 

Harry looked at her with furrowed brows. 

“So why sell?” He asked slightly confused.

Y/n had started Muse unpretentiously, her goal was simply to offer to the costumers something that lacked in the market: an all-inclusive, vegan, high quality and affordable priced make-up and skincare line. Muse became a beauty empire that included even daily/basic lingerie and loungewear in 69 sizes and 15 nude colors—going by Y/n’s philosophy that basic doesn’t need to be ugly, ‘nude tones’ meant different shades from beige and pretty stuff should fit everyone. 

It was her passion project. 

“I don’t have the hours in a day for everything I need to do, and I want to have a life, I want to be able to dedicate myself to relationships.” She said honestly. “LVMH is the same parent company that owns half of Fenty Beauty, they are the only ones that agreed to my terms, I get creative control and veto vote, the company philosophy stays the same, I am getting a female CEO of my choice, and Muse gets global distribution, we’re going to be available at Sephora, Harvey Nichols, Boots, Ulta at a even more affordable price.”

Harry nodded. She has handing over some control of her company to have more control of her life. It was almost poetic in a sense.

“And what is this about?”the 'Adore You' crooner points to the script on the youngest's lap, he knew her well enough to know when he need to change the subject.

“Robert Eggers’ new project...but first...”She stops, looking seriously at Harry, “how was it with Olivia?”

Harry and Olivia had agreed to meet that morning to discuss their relationship.

Olivia apparently felt that tempers had run out, and that everything had been left very much up in the air.  

Y/n didn't even know what was going on between the two until her former director called Harry the night before while they were getting ready for dinner, and even then she had only managed to get Harry out of the fact that they had had a fight before he came to her aid.

She had a suspicion there was trouble in paradise after Harry spent the third night in a row sharing a bed with her without his girlfriend's interference.

The man sigh, close his eyes and rest his head against the back of the couch.

“Was it that bad?” Y/n watches Harry closely.

Y/n honestly didn't like Olivia, and it wasn't even because the older one was dating Harry—which she personally found unethical and unprofessional, the kind of thing that causes a stain in someone’s career, specially with the whole scandal surrounding it.

The former Angel could write an entire essay about all her reasons to dislike Olivia Wilde, but in short it would resume to Olivia was simply an amalgamation of the kind of person Y/n looked down on in the industry: ambitious personality, fake character, and acting according to convenience.

She would never mistreat the woman or say a word against her in front of Harry, but that didn't mean she approved of their romance. 

And Y/n knew Olivia didn't like her either, she could see it in the older woman's catlike eyes, her years in the fashion industry made her perceptive of those kind of things. 

Olivia tolerated her for Harry, and had unwillingly offered the role of Violet to her under pressure from Warner Executives who saw Y/n as yet another money grab for the film—like Harry, she had a fanbase and more Instagram followers than the entire cast put together—and which she only accepted at Florence and Harry's request.

“We talked, we agreed that after our fight it's best to take some time off from each other, I have the tour, she still has to sort it out with Jason regarding the kids, we'll keep in touch, but we'll have a more definitive conversation when this leg of the tour is over to know where we stand.” He told her everything in one breath.

“And how do you feel about that?” The woman take a sip of her coffee.

Harry sighs again, running his hands through his hair in an anxious gesture

“I honestly don't know.” He confess. “I care about Olivia…”

“But you don’t love her…”Y/n completed. “That’s tough.” She nodded. “Do you think it’s a matter of time? Like, you can come to love her?”

“Yeah, sure…”He don’t look so sure. “Olivia is cool, she’s so intelligent and eloquent…” Y/n wide her eyes a little, condescending and pretentious fit Olivia better in her opinion. “If I am honest, our relationship hasn’t been a thought in my head for three days, this kinda of says something…”

“This actually screams something.” She said against her coffee, only to get a disapproving look from Harry. “H, you mistook the excitement of the honeymoon phase for something else and you stepped heavy footed into the relationship, I mean you moved her in three months after you guys started to date, we all told you it was too soon…”

“She needed a place to stay, things with Jason were though.” Harry defended his actions.

“And why is that?” The question was rhetorical, followed by a humorless laugh. “H, I love you, but you’re too good for this world.”

Harry looks at her with his brow frown. “Why?”

“My Love, everyone knows she broke up with Jason after you guys blurred the line, Florence told me that Jason and her acted pretty couple-ish the times he took the kids to visit, and that only changed after you started to spend too much time in her trailer.” Y/n told him what her and the girls had debated so many times before in their slumber parties over copious amounts of tequila. “Even Gemma agrees, and she’s like completely against talking about peoples life.”

The man stayed silent for a moment, absorbing what he had heard.

There was only one thing he wanted to know after hearing her thoughts.

“You never said anything against the relationship before.” It wasn’t even a question

“Because I want you happy, and you seemed happy with Olivia, that’s all I care about, it doesn’t matter if I don’t like the woman,” she answers with honesty. “I would never criticize your taste in women, the same way you never criticized my bad choices in men.” She jokes to lighten the mood.

Harry chuckles, eyes closing and dimples showing. 

The musician stopped criticizing Y/n’s boyfriends after the second time she got back with Abel after he got together with Selena while they’re on a break—he did wrote her na album as na apology. He kept quiet about Charlie—needy, jealous Charlie—, and bit his tongue with Jack—flirting, handsome Jack, even Harry would have to admit the younger man knew how to be charming—.

He liked Jack less than he liked Abel.

And he had despised Abel because they got together not long after their break up, and Harry was still hung up on her, regretting his decision to end their relationship. But it was too late, Abel swapped her off her foot the minute their break-up was announced, taking her on a first date in Dubai just months later, the beginning of their whirlwind, world wide romance that just ended for good in 2019.   

Jack, Harry hated him because he seemed less invested in the relationship than Y/n. He showered her with flowers and gifts and pretty words, but he was always away and it was always Y/n traveling to him. His Little Lovie was a woman in love with love, she always invested herself in the relationships, and was always heartbroken when things didn’t worked out in the end.

They were interrupted by Rebekah holding a lovely flower arrangement in her hands and an apologetic expression on her face. “Y/n…” 

The actress turned to where her PA stood in the doorway, the young woman rolled her expressive eyes at the peonies, ranunculus and carnations bouquet. 

“Beks…” Y/n sigh. “Just put it in the guest house, will you? Please.” She asked, and the held up her hand, stopping Bekah from leaving the room. “On second thought, it would be sad to let all those beautiful flowers go to waste, see if you can get a van to transport them all to the nearest nursing home.”

The assistant nodded and was already turning to leave the room and start to making calls when this time it was Harry who stopped her.

“Call Jeff, we have a van to transport instruments that you guys can use.”The musician offers.

“Thank you, H.”The young woman said honestly, with a bit of relief showing in her face.

The former couple turned best friends watch her leave the room before going back to their conversation. 

“Is he still sending you flowers?” He points to where Bekah disappeared with the flowers. 

Y/n just rolls her eyes. “I feel like I can open my own flower shop.” She takes another sip of her coffee. “He’s still blowing my phone.”

“Are you going to talk to him?” Harry takes a sip of his coffee, watching her closely.

“NO!”She says categorically. “I played this back and forth game with Abel, I am not doing it again with Jack.” She sighs. “But I still have to see him at least at the VMA’s, I can’t pull back at the last minute.”

“Shit, I had completely forgot about that.” Sometimes he forgot that she was what the industry called a triple threat: she acts, she dances and she sings, she had already used her voice in three movies. 

With her always dating musicians, it was actually an impressive feat that none before Jack had put her vocals on a track—Harry did, but they aren’t dating at the time he recorded her for TPWK. 

No one ever thought that ‘Into Your Arms’ would blow up the way it did, it was a romantic—that in some ways reflected Y/n and Jack’s relationship at the time—song, and Tik-Tok and Instagram Reels made it a huge sensation.

“Yeah, we have to perform it on the 11th.” She honestly wished there was a shot of vodka in her coffee. “Let’s talk about nice things now, My Love.” She lifts the nearly forgotten script from her lap pushing it towards him. “I need you to do this with me."

{next part}

Taglist: @slutforcoffein ; @lilsiz ; @pandxthings ;

@ameerakane20 ; @angywritesstuff

#harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x actress!yn #harry styles x model!reader #harry styles x singer!reader

[froggidude]

Autumn Apartment CC List

✿!! These CC Lists take a lot of time to create! Please consider subcribing to my YouTube Channel or buying me a coffee to further support me! Thank you :D 

✿ Download this build on The Gallery by searching courtdraws and make sure to check show custom content!

Watch The Speedbuild HERE! (with relaxing Animal Crossing music in the background)

My Socialz:

Origin ID- froggidude ~ formerly courtdrawz (check show modded)

YouTube- https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCLcqgvSOaR77kQHcsCEQzfA

CC List:

awinged llama - boho living

greenllamas - KERV

give me a nickname -  Laundry set

give me a nickname - modern kitchen set

amoebae -  OMSP Shelf

Around the Sims 4 - Maru’s stuff: catnip

house of harlix - Baysic

CharlyPancakes - THE LIGHTHOUSE COLLECTION

CharlyPancakes - LAVISH

CharlyPancakes - MISCELLANEA

CharlyPancakes - SMOL

CharlyPancakes - SOAK

CharlyPancakes - MODISH

Dreamteamsims -  Pixicat High Converse - Recolor

Felixandre - BERLIN Part 1

Felixandre - London Interior

Felixandre - Shop The Look Season 1

Felixandre - Shop The Look Season 2

Hel Studio x Sundays - April Thick Deco Book

HYDRA - Antique Rugs

HYDRA - Snack Time

HYDRA - Too Faced Makeup Set

HYDRA -  Shabby chic Lamp & Boho Tapestry

house of harlix - Jardane

leaf-motif - calliope bathroom

house of harlix - LIVIN’ RUM

lovefooly - vintage set

Mechtasims - Back To School Set

Mechtasims - Essential Clutter

Mechtasims - Kitchen Set

mutske -  Leeds Construction Set Part 2

myshunosun -  SIMMIFY MUSIC NOOK

house of harlix - orjanic part 1

house of harlix - orjanic part 2

peacemaker -  Elsie Bedroom Basics

peacemaker -  Grove Furniture Collection

peacemaker - Hamptons Getaway

peacemaker - Hamptons retreat

peacemaker - Hudson Bathroom

peacemaker -  Kitayama Living

peacemaker - lennox dining and kitchen

peacemaker -  Oasis-Chic Dining

peacemaker -  Serenity Bathroom

peacemaker -  Urbane

Pierisim - COLDBREW Coffee Shop

Pierisim -  Domaine du Clos part 1

Pierisim - MCM Sets

Pierisim - Winter Garden Part 1

Pierisim - Winter Garden Part 2

Simagination - Cottage Kitchen Custom Stuff Pack

SimmerKate - Lush Clutter Set

SIXAM - Small Spaces: Laundry Room

Sundays - AMED

Sundays -  Balangan

Sundays -  Canggu

Sundays -  Flores

Sundays -  Kelan Beach

Sundays -  Kintamani

Sundays -  Nord-Ouest

Sundays -  Pandawa

Sundays -  Sumba

Sundays -  Tabanan

Sundays -  Ungasan

Sundays x SimspirationBuilds - Archipelago

Sundays x SimspirationBuilds - Juniper

syboulette -  ADRIENNE BEDROOM

syboulette -  DIANE OFFICE

syboulette -  Loft Build Set

syboulette -  Soren

Sympxls - Light Fixtures

house of harlix - THE KICHEN

HYDRA -  Cute bunny phone holder

HYDRA -  Stand Mixer Kitchen Aid

Tuds - SHKR Kitchen

#myposts #mybuilds #TS4 #ts4cc #the sims custom content #ts4 custom content #ts4 cc #ts4 build mode #TheSims #thesims4 #thesimsgallery #thesimscc #thesims4cc #autumn #fall #fall2022 #fall decor

[whisperprime]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Interlude | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Interlude: 1989 | Part 14

Hob had been honest when he said that he’d lost the majority of his network. Anyone who wasn’t immortal had died off with his imprisonment lasting as long as it did and he had yet been unable to rebuild a new one.

But that did not mean he was without connections altogether.

It was one such connection that he was currently seeking out.

With the new semester officially having kicked off, he’s only going to get busier as the weeks go by. It is with this in mind that that he knows that if he wants to get this task done, he needs to do it soon.

Rounding the corner on what could be any street in London, Hob approaches a building that reads “Bernie’s Barbershop” in pealing, faded red and white letters. Contrary to the age of the sign, a modern, red light “OPEN” sign beckons anyone walking past to come in and get a haircut. 

Hob feels a sense of relief upon seeing it. His memory of his contact’s location in this time period had been iffy at best. He had a few other possible ideas, sure, but he’s glad he won’t have to go on a walk through of all of London to find his target.

A door bell rings over head as he enters, announcing his presence to anyone inside. Hob takes in the mixture of old and new, from the older, brick walls to the newer furniture. He’s just inspecting the display of products, when a slim, red headed woman slips out of the back.

“Welcome, do you have an appointment?”

Hob pulls away from the display. “No, sorry. I’m here to speak with the owner, if possible. He wouldn’t happen to be here, would he?”

He knows full well that the man in question will be here, but it is polite to ask.

The woman, who’s name tag proclaims her to be Sherry, blinks at him. She eyes him up and down for a moment, as if trying to figure out if he’s a disgruntled former customer. 

“May I ask who’s looking for him?”

“Tell him Robert Gadling is here to see him.” Hob continues to smile presently at her, to try and show he was here on good terms. “I’m really just an old friend.”

That seems to ease her concerns a bit, but not entirely. Turning on her heel, the moment causing her poofy dress to puff out with the moment, she disappears into the back.

Hob contends himself to another wait.

The owner, however, doesn’t make him wait long.

“Well, I’ll be! Robbie Gadling, as I live and breathe!” A tall, tan skinned man appears in the doorway leading to the back of the shop. He crosses the room in mere strides, throwing his arms around Hob when he reaches him. “It really is you!”

Hob laughs as he allows himself to be pulled into the hug. “It’s good to see you, too, Viktor.” He grips the man’s forearms as Viktor holds him out at arms length to look him over. “I was hoping you’d be in today.”

Viktor laughs, a jolly booming thing. “Ah, you know I practically live at work.” He releases Hob in order to sling an arm over him, directing him towards the back. “You’re going to have to catch me up on all your latest mad adventures.” Over his shoulder, before they pass through the door, he throws over his shoulder, “If anyone asks for me, Sherry, let them know I’m unavailable.”

Hob catches a glimpse at the blank look on Sherry’s face, hears the muttered, “Sure thing, boss,” before they’re through the door.

Viktor leads him down a hall to a door to the end of it. Once they’re inside, the man shuts the door behind them. The moment the door clicks, Hob feels the tingling feeling of he thinks might be some form of magic roll over the room.

Viktor directs him to a chair into which he takes a seat as he says, “You can speak freely while the door is closed.” He moves around a deceptively cheap looking desk to have a seat, himself. “We can hear those outside, but they will not hear us.”

Hob glances at the door. He’s never been certain if Viktor is any kind of practitioner of the mystical arts, but he knows the man’s wards are nothing to sniff at. He turns back around. “Seems a bit much, when you don’t know what I’m here for.”

Viktor snorts, pulling open one of the drawers of his desk. “We are good friends, Robbie,” he states, reaching into the open drawer. “But not so good you visit without a reason.” Out of the drawer, he pulls out a cheap bottle of malt scotch whiskey and two crystal shot glasses, all three of which he sets on the table.

Hob feels a pang of regret for the truth in those words. It’s easy to take people for granted when you know there’s still a good chance you’ll see them in a hundred years. 

He accepts one of the two glasses when Viktor hands them to him, bringing it up to take a sip as the other man points out, “But worry not, I’d still love to hear the latest strop you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Hob laughs. “Aw, that’s not fair. My life isn’t that interesting.”

Viktor raises an eyebrow at him, unconvinced. “This coming from the man who spent a month in a ghost town.” He leans forward, pointing at him with a finger from the hand still holding his glass. “And it wasn’t a ‘ghost town’ because it was abandoned.”

In his defense, he had been out of it between the deaths of his nuclear family and near getting drowned for being a witch. A kind hand had been seemed like a god send at the time when the old woman helped pull him from the river.

The fact that the old woman had been a ghost looking to take advantage of his in between state to try and trick him into becoming part of the town indefinitely so they could feed on his life force for all eternity?

Well. Maybe the man had a point.

Hob hums as he savors the whiskey. It’s cheap, but still a good brand. “Sadly, I can’t talk much about what happened without talking about why I’m here.”

Viktor sobers a bit. “You’ve been gone a while. It have anything to do with that?”

Hob takes another sip of his drink. Partially to stall. He nods and looks Viktor dead in the eye as he says, “Yeah, I’m looking for a crew. Discreet and not bothered by a little property damage.”

The taller man of the pair leans back in his chair. He studies him for a long, several minutes. “What kind of property damage?”

Hob smiles. Knows it’s not a nice one. “I want to destroy a house.” He finishes off the whiskey and places the drink back on the table.

Viktor whistles, a little something dark entering his own eyes. “And what did this house do to you?”

Hob studies the other man for a moment. Viktor was a warlock, an immortal one at that. He had no need for houses that curtailed one’s aging, as the man had stopped aging long before the Gadling name was a word on people’s lips. And even if he should show interest in it, he strictly stayed away from sites of deals struck with demons.

He taps the glass on the table, once, twice, and then lets it sit again. “The owner of the house has wronged me and is a threat to those I care about.” He leans forward to hold his cup out, which the warlock refills. “A demon has promised that as long as the roof stands, the owner will not age. I wish to inconvenience the owner by destroying the house.”

That darkness in Viktor’s eyes takes on a shade of disgust. “Hm. And what is the name of the owner?”

Hob raises his glass to his lips, utters, “Roderick Burgess.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of this one. Pompous idiot.” Viktor snorts. “The man everyone says caught the devil in his basement.”

The phrase brings a vicious twist to Hob’s gut. Funny how some things persist. He takes the sip, more to fortify himself this time. “He had a demon in his basement, alright. But the demon wasn’t the prisoner.”

Viktor stills, understanding like lightening across his features. Hob is touched by the anger and outrage he can see behind the shock. “I’m sorry to hear of your misfortune.”

“Thank you.” Hob waves it off, even as he accepts the condolence. It’s hardly water under the bridge, but he isn’t here to talk about it. “There’s one more thing: I want to be part of the crew.”

The warlock doesn’t seem surprised, but he does seem concerned. “You sure you want to go back in there. Any crew I put together will be able to do the job just fine.”

Hob hears where the concern really lies: Viktor doesn’t know what level of trauma he has nor how much it might effect the success of the crew. If Hob wants to endanger himself, that’s one thing, but the warlock won’t let him become a liability to anyone else, both for his own good and the good of the others.

It’s a fair concern, but unnecessary. Hob will not fall apart for the job itself.

Afterword? Well, that’s a different story.

Still, Hob seeks to ease some of the other man’s worries, “I’ll only be in and out.” He finishes his drink and then places it on the table. Waves off any more. “Burgess is a shame, but he has something of real danger. He can’t be allowed to keep it.”

Viktor keeps silent, waiting for Hob to elaborate.

And Hob thinks Viktor is indeed a good friend, but he’s also a very real and very powerful warlock who is only mostly a good man.

Everyone has their weaknesses and who knows what all is contained in the Magdalene Grimoire?

Hob keeps his silence.

After several long minutes, the taller man takes the cue that Hob will not budge on this. Chooses not to take offense and instead nods to acknowledge the fact that the shorter man doesn’t mean anything personal by it. “Well, you’re in luck, Robbie, because ol’ Magus is having party next weekend.” To show the source of the news, he pulls a out a pamphlet, which proclaims the day and time of the event. “Celebrating his 150th birthday, he says.”

Hob snorts. Good to see the man is just as arrogant as ever and still hasn’t learned a thing. It’s that kind of brazen that gets people riled up into mobs and coming to burn you at the stake.

Still, he’ll take the in. “I’ll be there.”

Viktor drags the pamphlet off the table. “Now that that’s settled, what do you say we do a little more light hearted catching up?”

Hob laughs again. They spend the rest of the afternoon catching up, Viktor telling wild tales about the events that led up to the building of his barbershop and Hob talking about his new Inn (”You should come by when it’s finished. The first drink is on me.”) and his new teaching position.

They only realize how late it’s getting when they hear a knock on the door. Sherry’s voice filters through as she says, “Place is all locked up, boss. I’m headed out.”

Viktor rises from his seat and crosses over to the door. He opens it up and leaves it to signify that he’s open to visitors again. Hob can feel the dropping of the wards the moment the door handle turned. “Thanks, Sherry. I’ll see you next Monday?”

She nods, eyeing Hob from behind her boss. He can tell she’s a little curious as to why he’s still here, but not enough to stay and find out. “See you next Monday,” she returns, before heading out.

Hob remembers the shop closes around six and takes it as his own cue. He stands and starts for the door. “Probably should be heading out myself. Still need to make certain everything is all set for the week.”

Viktor pats him on the back and Hob is thankful he doesn’t flinch. “It was good to see you, Robbie. Drop me a line when the New Inn is open and I’ll swing by.”

Hob waves at him as he heads out. Calls over his shoulder, “I’ll save a good one just for you.”

He hears a laugh and, “Always knew you were one of the good ones!”

Over the following week, Hob tries to distract himself with his classes, but finds himself too restless and uneasy to concentrate fully.  According to their surveillance, this party is mostly for his inner circle - Burgess and the people who have helped financed him over the years. There’s even talk of a main event that sets Hob’s inner warning bells ringing. He knows it is very unlikely that Burgess will ever catch his true target, but all it would take is the right circumstances and a little luck, and he might catch something that causes the same level of damage as he did the first time. Even if it wasn’t something of real power, anything he caught wouldn’t deserve it.

On top of wanting to bring that damn roof down, if only fuels his need to get that spell book out of Burgess’ hands once and for all.

When the time comes, Viktor's people have been shoe'ed in with a crew that are in charge of delivering the decorations. Flowers, the cake, and other necessities are to be brought in before the party is to kick off. Hob feels not unlike he’s going into a potential minefield. He likely shouldn’t be involved in this. Really should leave this to Viktor’s men, but he can’t chance the book disappearing in the chaos that will undoubtedly follow the destruction of the manor.

He puts some effort into confusing his appearance. Puts on a quality blond wig that doesn’t look half bad once he has it on with the uniform cap. Uses some makeup to lighten up the tan he’s only just recently gotten back. Some padding in his clothes changes his body shape. It would only need to hold up long enough to meet up with and switch places with someone of similar looks and build, who would step in once the spell book was retrieved and could finish the rest of the job.

When the day comes, Hob watches as a picturesque manor comes into view from the windows of the van the crew are driving in. If he had never set foot in this place again, it would have been too soon. He can only imagine what returning here might do to his subconscious that night when it was time to sleep.

Beside him, one of the women of the group, is leaning forward to get as good a look at the manor as she can without unbuckling herself. Hob thinks he heard someone call her ‘Millie’ at some point. “Seems a bit of a shame to tear it down. Place some interesting history.”

Across from her, an olive skinned man groaned in the way people do when they’ve heard something before. Under his breathe, he mutters, “And here we go...”

Millie gave him the finger. “You just don’t care about history.”

Beside her, another man laughs good naturedly. He’d introduced himself as Tom. He was also one of the only people who’d introduced himself. “Only when history gets me a big paycheck!”

The first man laughs with him and Millie turns back to the window with a disgruntled frown.

Hob, taking pity on her, asks, “What’s so interesting about it?”

Tom’s buddy snorted, but Millie ignores him. She looks like she would have pounced on Hob, had that been the polite thing to do. “Not much is known about it before the 1700s, but it used to be called Blackwood Manor. Rumor has it, King George III gave it to a Lady Johanna Constantine in exchange for Pandora’s Box.”

Hob is too stuck on Lady Constantine’s name to contemplate if Pandora’s Box is real or not. “Is that so?” He side-eyes the Manor, wondering if he’s destined to keep hearing about this woman every couple hundred years. Perhaps her footprints on this Earth were deeper than he’d thought.

Millie nods. “She’s the one that gave it the name, ‘Fawney Rig.’” She frowns. “Funny name that.”

Hob, still distracted by the first bit of information, off handedly states, “It’s a ring dropping trick.”

A few of the people in the van turn to look at him. The weight of their gaze is what pulls Hob back to himself. Causally, he explains, “I’m a history teacher.”

It has the effect he’s hoping it would. Most of the people, especially the two who had proclaimed a dislike for history, go back to attempting to ignore them. Millie, however, has leaned forward curiously. To her, he further explains, “Someone would drop a small trinket, often a ring. When someone else picked it up, the person who dropped it would pretend they’d seen it first. The person would offer to take their share of the finders fee and let the second person have the trinket. By the time the swindled realized they’d been swindled, the swindler was gone.”

Tom snorts, the sound tinged with a hint of respect.

Millie wrinkles her nose in distaste. “Quite the character, then, this Lady Constantine.”

If only she knew.

Seeing as they were about to pull up to the manor, Millie quickly wrapped up her story. “It passed through a few hands before it came into the Burgess family. Supposedly, the Roderick Burgess now is the same Roderick Burgess who bought back in the early 1900s.”

Tom’s buddy doesn’t look convinced, but doesn’t truly seem to care either way. “Probably some grandson taking advantage of their similar name.”

Hob decides not to comment, which is just as well, as the van in coming to a stop and everyone is getting their things together. All of the supplies are situated in the back and waiting to be collected. Each of them have been given a task, with Hob’s leaving him on the first floor, where he is most likely to encounter a study.

As they begin to unload, Hob pulls his cap down a touch further to make it easier to hide his eyes. He’s handed two large vases of flowers as a member of the staff he’s never seen comes up to direct him over to where he’s to set them. Hob subtly watches for anyone that might recognize him and finds himself relieved when the few members of the Order that are out and about in the house are too busy to pay attention to the bustle of the decorators.

The member of the staff leads him to an area further back in the house. Hob forces himself to walk past a seemingly ordinary door he has not seen in the Waking world, but would still recognize anywhere. One of the other doors they pass is ajar and within it, he can see his prize: Burgess’ study.

Burgess’ study, where Roderick Burgess himself is currently talking with another man.

Hob catches sight of Burgess beginning to turn in response to the sound of him and the staff member passing. Shifts the vase, as if getting a better hold on it, which incidentally puts the flowers between his own face and Burgess.

He worries for a moment that this could complicate things, but some deity of luck seems to have taken favor with him today, because he can hear the sound of the two men exiting the study - “They never get the decorations right unless you see to them yourself” - followed shortly by the sound of a door locking.

Hob places the first vase where directed. It’s during the placement of the second one that he ‘accidently’ fails to place it properly. They both manage to save the vase and the flowers are only slightly damaged, but most of the water from the vase is now on Hob and the staff member.

“I’m so terribly sorry,” Hob makes himself fret. “I don’t know what happened. It seemed steady enough.”

The staff member sighs, exasperated, but somehow not surprised. He has clearly dealt with much, much worse in his day. “I’ll get more water for the vase.” He waves a hand down the hall, back the way they came. “There’s a bathroom around the corner, if you want to towel off.”

Hob tilts his hat in thanks. He makes his way back down the hall, waits until the staff member is out of sight, and then steals off in the direction of the study.

He finds the area devoid of staff, decorators, or members of the household. Most everyone is busy with the setting up or are hiding out of the way. Hob glances around, before trying the knob.

It’s locked.

He’s not terribly surprised, having anticipated this could happen. He doesn’t have much need for the kind of skills one gains with banditry or thieving these days, but he’s never let himself forget them. The times was always a-changing and he never knows who he’d need to be in his next life.

It’s almost painfully easy to get the door open. He slips inside without a sound. The room is light with the sunset outside, which gives him enough light for his search. The study is old fashioned, with a stone fireplace, wooden desk and various cabinets and other such oddities he’d expect in a rich man’s home from the 1900s. Few things have been updated over the last century.

He doesn’t see much that screams hiding place for a priceless book, until his eyes lands on a wooden cabinet tucked in the back of the room. It’s a dark wood thing, sturdy, and with a decent lock on it. Without the key or a set of picks, someone would have to make a lot of noise to open the thing.

The lock opens as easily as the study’s for him. Inside, dimly light by the last rays of the sun through the window, he finds a hefty amount of cash, some jewels and other valuables. He ignores them all in favor of- yes. There it is.

Sitting on top is the Liber Fulvarum Paginarum that had given away the fact that he wasn’t, in fact, Death herself. From underneath it, he pulls a book, bound in dark leather decorated with gold tooling. It has no name, and he has only seen it once, but he recognizes it.

It’s also a bit heavier than he thought it would be, but not so much he can’t work with it. He’s thankful for the padding, which is only slightly damp from the water, as it makes a good place to hide the book on his person. It’s a bit awkward and won’t hold up to close inspection, but it will do for the short term.

Hob locks up the cabinet. He pauses at the door, listening for voices. When he hears none, he slips out, locking the door as he locked the cabinet. He forces himself to walk as casually as possible down the hall and towards the doors. He’s almost to the door, when he hears: “Excuse me, sir, can you help me with this streamer? Just need a tall person to help set the ends in place.”

Hob almost carries on as if he hasn’t heard, but there a light tap on his shoulder. Heart pounding, He turns enough to see a young woman too nicely dressed to be part of the staff. She must be a guest or one of the permanent members of the household, having come out to help decorate. She’s holding up a streamer in her hands. Beyond her, he can see more decorating one of the sitting rooms.

Hob weights his choices. If he stays, he risks getting caught. If he refuses, it might seem odd. Memorable even. He glances at the door, which is wide open and tauntingly close. Turns back to her and smiles good naturedly. “Maybe with one. I still have other things to bring in.”

Her smile brightens and she ushers him over to where she wants the thing. He’s putting up the other end, when she looks over his shoulder and calls out to someone in the entrance. “Mr. Burgess! Is this how you wanted it?”

Hob freezes, horror turning his blood to ice. His heart skips a beat and he can’t seem to draw any air. He holds absolutely still as the sound of footsteps come up behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck rise up when Burgess comes to a stop behind him.

“Hm.” A long considering pause. “Yes, that will do, Darla.”

‘Darla’ grins, pleased to have done something for the master of the house.

Hob can feel Burgess’ eyes on the back of his head. He doesn’t dare move as the man of the house offers a hand out to Darla, who takes it. Burgess beckons her away, saying, “Let’s leave the decorations to the workers. There’s no need for you to do anything.”

He can hear their footsteps retreating as Darla pouts. “But I wanted to help.”

Burgess hums at her again, placentally. At what might be the doorway, the steps pause. “I apologize for the interruption to your work.” The old man hardly sounds apologetic, and there’s a clear warning in it. “Please, return to your duties.”

Hob manages to rouse himself enough to nod, although he has no clue if it’s seen or not. He doesn’t dare to move until he’s certain that Burgess and Darla are gone. He has to fight to get his breathing under control and knows he absolutely must leave now. 

The sun has set outside, casting more than enough shadows to allow Hob to slip away unseen. The man he was to meet with to switch places with meets him once he’s past the line of sight of the tree line. Hob takes off and then hands him the damp shirt and padding he’d been wearing (sans the book), which the man puts on with only a little grimace. He doesn’t need a wig, as he’s already blond. Hob takes fresh shirt and slips it on. Nods to the man as he makes his way out and back into the party preparations.

Hob, himself, makes his way in the opposite direction, towards where a motorcycle has been stashed for him. He doesn’t allow himself to start to relax until he’s miles away from the Manor, and even then, he doesn’t fully relax until he’s locking the door of his flat.

Near gasping, Hob sinks to the floor. He doesn’t care that the mat his sitting on is dirty. He curls himself up, around the book that has caused so much pain and misery. He wants to throw it away from himself. To start a fire and throw it in. For the moment, he simply sits with it until his heart stops hammering and he no longer feels like his breathing through a narrow tube.

When he finally feels a little like himself again, he rises from the doorway. He places his wretched prize in a safe he’s bought to hold his valuables. It’s barely big enough to hold the book, if place in at an angle, and he’s happy to shut the door and have it out of his sight.

Book secured, he goes straight for the brandy. He drinks straight from the bottle, desperately needing something to calm his nerves. Does so until he can feel the edge coming off enough he can stand to go clean up and change. He’s gotten the make up cleaned off and is just putting on a new shirt when his phone pings at him.

There a single message from Viktor that reads: “Set up complete. Now we wait.”

Hob is equal parts too wired and too tired to settle. He still tries to go through his evening routine. He eats something light, not really feeling hungry, but knowing it’s not a good idea to drink on an empty stomach, immortal or not. Everything seems to go by in a blur, until he finds himself in bed. He’s got a book in his hand he doesn’t remember picking up and he hasn’t read a line from.

Leans his head back against the pillows propping him up and closes his eyes.

He thinks he won’t sleep until he hears this is over.

He falls asleep, despite his resistance, his exhaustion winning out as it inevitably always does.

Part 15

#the sandman #hob gadling #dream of the endless #who is taking a turn as sir not appearing in this film this time #he'll be back in the next part #i need to find more excuses to have him stick around #dreamling #my fic #title: carry you back into the light #i've never written any sort of heist or otherwise #so i have no clue how believable any of this is #just hope this didn't totally suck

[lifeofkaze]

Molly

A/N: This story was written for the March prompt of the @hp-12monthsofmagic challenge.

It had been a long, hard day at the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office at the Ministry of Magic. Arthur Weasley had been busy with bewitched cutlery attacking Muggles at a furniture shop in Brighton from very early in the morning, followed by falsely distributed magical magazines telling the customers of a London bookshop their opinion about their hairstyles, and had finally finished his day with a short encore of the slime squirting postboxes he’d had to deal with in Manchester the previous week.

So, when he Apparated into the front yard of his family home near the village of Otter St. Catchpole, Arthur was exhausted, tired, and still covered in the odd spot of goo. Wiping some of the reeking fluid off his robes, he approached the lit windows of the Burrow, stopping briefly to breathe in the scent of wildflowers and honeysuckle and listen to the sound of spring awakening around the orchard and the rolling hills beyond. 

“Fred and George Weasley, get off the cabinet and release the cat this instant!”

Arthur flinched at the sharp sound of his wife cutting through the nightly peace. There was a dangerous edge to her voice, which most likely meant that it wasn’t the first time she had said those words. Judging by the laughter reaching his ear, it probably wouldn’t be the last time either. 

Bracing himself, Arthur took a deep breath, and pushed open the kitchen door. 

“Hello, everyone! I’m -”

The rest of his words got stuck in his throat. The kitchen before him - or what had been the kitchen when he had left for work this morning - had turned into a battlefield. There were plates, bowls, and glasses everywhere - some of them used, some of them in various stages of being magically cleaned. The sink was about to overflow with dishwater foam, while the brush and rag were performing what looked to be a passionate tango above it, splashing soapy water onto the floor, the counter, and the nearby walls.

This wasn’t even all that unfortunate. Due to some mishap Arthur wasn’t too keen on learning the details of, parts of the walls were covered in what seemed to be splotches of green sauce, already partly dried and giving off a distinctive minty scent. Ron, his youngest son, stood in front of it, casually dipping his tiny finger into a bowl with chopped and mashed up beetroot and adding his own colourful contribution to the mural. 

Careful not to step on the wooden figurines, books, balls and other toys strewn across the slippery kitchen floor, Arthur made his way into the living room, where he found his wife and the rest of his children, who weren’t currently at school. Molly Weasley stood with his back to him, angrily gesturing at two identical-looking boys perching on the top of the cabinet. They were sniggering among themselves, too busy stuffing the family’s cat into one of their sister’s dresses to mind the increasingly shrill tone of their mother. 

Ginny herself - wearing a suspiciously small amount of clothes - sat on the rug by the fireplace, gnawing on something that looked to be her mother’s wand. With a few quick steps, Arthur was by her side, winding the wand from the heavily protesting toddler. There, at least, was the explanation for the dancing houseware in the kitchen. 

Once the twins on top of the cabinet became aware of their father’s presence, they instantly let go of the cat, shouting his name at the top of their lungs. Ron and Ginny joined the fray, and for a horribly long second, the entire ground floor of the Burrow was filled with the sound of screeching children vying for their father’s attention. Then, they all rushed forward and flung their little arms around his waist as high as they could reach. 

Hugging them back, Arthur caught the gaze of his wife, who looked flustered and a little out of breath as she asked him how his day had been. Before he got to reply, however, she had already begun apologising for the state the house was in, and how she didn’t have the time to clean, and how he please shouldn’t look at the kitchen too closely, and that she really should get started on sorting everything before dinner, shouldn’t she?

And with that, Molly was gone, leaving behind her children and confusedly staring husband. Arthur slowly followed her into the kitchen, where she was furiously cutting onions, sniffing and wiping at her eyes all the while. With a wave of her wand, which now bore the marks of Ginny’s teeth, she made the brush and rag stop dancing and clean up the spots on the wall instead while the plates and cutlery began sorting themselves into neat stacks.

Once the Weasley children had gone to bed, Molly only talked briefly to Arthur, immediately swishing past him again to take care of everything she hadn’t managed to do yet and that made their family life run… well, as smoothly as life in the Burrow could possibly run. Arthur watched her work in thoughtful silence. He would have liked to help but was sure Molly wouldn’t let him. She never did, really. Somehow, she alone was able to see order in the chaos; Arthur knew this family wouldn’t last a day without her.

The thought wouldn’t leave him for the rest of the evening. Presently, when they had settled in their armchairs next to the fireplace, he spoke up.

“Molly, dearest, have I ever told you -” 

He tailed off as he raised his eyes to his wife. Molly had sunk deeper into her armchair, the needles with Ginny’s half-finished new jumper resting in her lap. Her head lay fallen to the side, and her chest rose and fell in a gentle, regular pattern. She had fallen asleep.

Arthur watched her thoughtfully, studying her features that had become more familiar to him than his own. New lines had appeared on Molly’s forehead and around her mouth, and there were fine crinkles around her eyes that never used to be there, but she still looked so much like on the day they had first met at Hogwarts so many years ago. 

He remembered it well, how he and Molly and so many others had stumbled into the Great Hall for the very first time, at the end of which, on a simple four-legged stool, an old, battered-looking hat had been sat.

Molly - still named Prewett, then - had been called to sit beneath the Sorting Hat first, and it had taken it quite a bit to announce a roaring ‘Gryffindor’ to the assembled school. Later, Molly had told him that the Hat had considered putting her into Hufflepuff, as well, and Arthur had never been gladder that the Hat had ultimately decided against it. 

It didn’t take long for Arthur and Molly to become fast friends and only a little longer for Arthur to see even more in the loveable, caring and slightly hot-headed young witch. It took him several years to pluck up the courage to ask Molly out, but when he finally and she said yes, he was almost too surprised to speak.

They snuck out of the Gryffindor common room after curfew together, dodging the wary eyes of the prefects, portraits, and Peeves the poltergeist on their way outside, where they spent a lovely evening wandering about the lakeshore in the moonlight. It was such a lovely evening, in fact, that it was well into the small hours when they made their way back to the castle. They were just about to ascend the steps leading to their common room when a light appeared at the top of it, shining on the grim face of Apollyon Pringle, the Hogwarts caretaker. 

Arthur didn’t think twice on what to do. Taking Molly by the shoulders, he pushed her behind a suit of armour, signalling for her to be silent. It had been just in time as well; no sooner had he turned away that the caretaker was upon him, gripping Arthur around the arm and dragging him away with a foreboding smile on his weathered face. 

Arthur was dealt the punishment of his lifetime, but even though he was sure he would feel the effects of it for weeks to come (which he did), he didn’t mention Molly with a single word, and once he had received a clandestine kiss from her behind the very suit of armour she had hidden behind, he decided that the bruises had been more than worth it. 

The relationship blossoming from that day held throughout their time at Hogwarts and beyond, and it didn’t take Arthur much consideration (but a lot of courage) to ask Molly for her hand soon after they had graduated. Their ceremony was small and with only a couple of people attending, but everyone who mattered had been present. Arthur had borrowed his dressrobes from one of his brothers, while Molly had taken it upon herself to sew her dress from the one her mother had worn on her wedding day. It wasn’t the elegant, stark-white dress with crystals and lace Arthur knew she had been dreaming about, but to him, it had been the most perfect dress he’d ever seen.

They moved into the Burrow soon after, back then only a small hut with one storey and two rooms, but it was theirs, and it was home. Then their son Bill arrived, and then Charlie and the rest of them, and with each of their children being added to the family, Arthur didn’t think his heart could hold any more love without having to burst eventually. 

All the while, Molly had been there to be the rock for all of them, regardless of how many curveballs life had thrown at them. She was always there, steady and unwavering, and Arthur cherished her more for it with every passing day. 

Dwelling on the thought, Arthur quietly got up from his armchair and stepped closer to his sleeping wife. She was moving her lips ever so slightly, as if, even asleep, she was trying to remind herself of everything she still had to take care of. A strand of her hair had fallen from where she had pinned it back, and Arthur noticed a few streaks of silver shimmering among the red - the very first of them he’d ever seen on Molly.

Knowing how they would upset her, Arthur raised his wand to vanish them but then thought better of it. Let Molly have her greys, he decided. They were a testimony of their time together, and if anything, they made him love her even more. 

Quietly laughing to himself, he ran his hand over his own thinning hair before tucking the silvery strand behind Molly’s ear. As he did so, Molly stirred. Her eyelids fluttered, and as her gaze focused on Arthur, she sat bold upright. 

“I fell asleep!” she cried out, giving Arthur a scolding look. “You should’ve woken me. There’s so much work to do.”

“Which is why I let you sleep,” Arthur replied calmly. “I figured you needed it.” 

Molly sighed, a fleeting look of frustration crossing her face. “Well, you shouldn’t have. Now I won’t get everything done before tomorrow.” 

“Yes, you will,” said Arthur, bending down to kiss her, “because you will go to bed and leave the rest to me.”

“You’ve been working all day, I really should -”

“So have you, my dear. I’m not yet tired, anyway. See, there’s this fascinating Muggle contraption I brought home from work today, which -” 

At that, Molly rose to her feet and hastily bade him goodnight. Arthur smiled to himself as he watched her go; that trick worked every time. 

***

The next day, when the sun had just about risen, Arthur silently got up and woke his children. Once he had gathered them in the kitchen and explained what he had in mind, they set to work, as quickly and quietly as possible. 

It took them longer than he had expected - and they probably made a lot more noise, too - but by the time their surprise was done and floating on a tray up the stairs behind them, Molly was still fast asleep. When Arthur gently touched her shoulder, her eyes flew open, and she sat up with a gasp.

 “Merlin’s beard, I overslept!” 

She was on the verge of swinging her legs out of bed when she noticed that her husband and children had gathered all around her. 

“Why are you all here? What happened?” A look of alarm formed on her face. “Is anybody hurt? Has there been another fire?”

“Nothing’s burnt, Mum. Relax,” said Fred, dramatically rolling his eyes. “Aside from those, of course,” he added, pointing his thumb at the floating tray carrying a stack of pancakes, a cup of tea, and a vase with the flowers Ginny and Ron had collected from the garden. He nodded his head at his twin brother. “George burned them.”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, it was you!”

“No, you!”

“No, you!”

Arthur placed a hand on each of the twins’ heads, gently but firmly pushing them apart. “Neither of you burned the pancakes.”

They looked at each other for a moment before unanimously saying, “Right, it was Dad.” 

Suppressing a sigh, Arthur levitated the tray toward the bed, where Molly looked between her breakfast, her children and her husband in bewilderment. Then - much to Arthur’s horror - she burst into tears.

“What’s wrong, Mum?” Ron asked in a small voice, already climbing into bed to snuggle up against his mother.

“Isn’t that obvious, Ronny?” George said. “You made her cry because you’re so ugly.”

Fred nodded. “It’s true.”

Ron looked between his brothers with wide eyes as a pillow flew across his head and hit both twins in the face simultaneously. They gaped when they realised it was their mother who had thrown it, now both laughing and crying at the same time. Setting aside her breakfast, she opened her arms up wide.

“Now one’s ugly here,” she half-sobbed. “You’re all my perfect little children. And now come here!”

Arthur leaned against the doorframe, watching as the kids jumped into their mother’s arms so forcefully that they knocked her back into the pillows, all of them laughing as they did so. His lips curved into a smile. 

Maybe theirs wasn’t the picture-perfect storybook life, but that’s just what it was - theirs. 

And he wouldn’t want it any other way. 

#harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #arthur weasley #molly weasley

[londonremovalcompanyuk]

Exploring the Closest Removal Company near me

Moving homes can be an exhilarating yet daunting experience, especially in a city as vibrant and bustling as London. With its maze of streets, diverse neighbourhoods, and busy traffic, finding the right removal company nearby can make all the difference in ensuring a smooth transition to your new abode. As a Londoner myself, I understand the importance of convenience and reliability when it comes to such services. So, let's embark on a journey to explore the closest London removal companies near you, ensuring your relocation is as stress-free as possible.

One of the primary considerations when selecting a removal company is proximity. Londoners value efficiency, and having a removal company nearby can save valuable time and streamline the moving process. Fortunately, London is teeming with removal companies, ranging from local family-run businesses to larger-scale operations. Utilising online platforms and directories tailored to your area can help identify the closest options available.

However, proximity alone should not dictate your choice. It's essential to delve deeper into each company's offerings and reputation to ensure a seamless moving experience. Look for testimonials and reviews from past customers to gauge their satisfaction levels. Additionally, consider factors such as pricing, services offered, and insurance coverage to make an informed decision.

While researching, keep an eye out for London Removal Company that offers bespoke services tailored to your specific needs. Whether you require assistance with packing, furniture assembly, or storage solutions, opting for a company that provides comprehensive services can alleviate much of the moving day stress. Moreover, enquire about their fleet of vehicles and equipment to ensure they can accommodate your belongings safely and efficiently.

As you narrow down your options, don't hesitate to reach out to each company for a personalised quote. Many reputable removal companies offer free consultations and transparent pricing structures, allowing you to compare costs and make budget-conscious decisions. Remember to inquire about any hidden fees or additional charges to avoid surprises on moving day.

Beyond convenience and affordability, prioritise reliability and professionalism when selecting a removal company. Moving homes is a significant life event, and entrusting your belongings to a reputable company can provide peace of mind amidst the chaos. Look for accreditations and affiliations within the industry, as well as adherence to industry standards and regulations.

Furthermore, consider the level of customer service provided by each company. A friendly and responsive team can make all the difference in ensuring a positive moving experience. From your initial enquiry to the final delivery of your belongings, choose a removal company that prioritises customer satisfaction and communication.

While exploring the closest removal companies near you, don't overlook the importance of sustainability and environmental responsibility. Opting for a company that implements eco-friendly practices, such as recycling materials and reducing carbon emissions, can align with your values and contribute to a greener future. Many removal companies now offer environmentally conscious options, so be sure to inquire about their sustainability efforts.

In conclusion, navigating the bustling streets of London requires careful planning and consideration, especially when it comes to selecting international moving company near me. By prioritising proximity, reliability, and professionalism, you can ensure a seamless transition to your new home. Remember to research each company thoroughly, request personalised quotes, and prioritise customer service and sustainability. With the right removal company by your side, you can embark on your new chapter in London with confidence and ease.

#international moving company near me

[grandmaster-anne]

By Royal invitation Inside Prince Charles & Camilla’s London home

Australian Women’s Weekly NZ | Published 17 July 2019

PHOTOGRAPHY by HUGO BURNAND

Standing outside the “Birthday Gates” of Clarence House, it’s impossible not to be reminded of the Queen Mother. As a child growing up in England, I remember crowds gathering every year outside these big black gates in Stable Yard Road, hoping to greet the former Queen Elizabeth who would step outside her front door on August 4 to receive birthday wishes from the people. It was one of those peculiarly British rituals which underlined the public affection for the royal family and started in 1970, continuing until Her Royal Highness’s final birthday at the age of 101. The custom resulted in the current moniker for the gates, and as The Australian Women’s Weekly is welcomed inside for a privileged private tour of the house and gardens, currently the London home of Prince Charles, his wife, the Duchess of Cornwall, and a privileged swarm of London’s bee population, I can’t help but notice reminiscences of the Queen Mother everywhere.

Clarence House, nestled in a perfect oasis of calm just behind The Mall, is a unique royal residence which I suspect holds a special place in the hearts of all the family who have lived here. It was built in the 1820s for the Duke of Clarence, who later became King William IV, and has been altered and refurbished over the centuries for seven very different royal occupants.

Prince Charles became Heir Apparent to the British throne at the tender age of three when he was living at Clarence House, and all of a sudden his childhood was turned upside down. Together with his sister Anne, their cosy world moved across Green Park to the vast corridors of Buckingham Palace. His mother was no longer a princess, but Queen Elizabeth II, at just 25.

It must have been quite a shock, for even though Clarence House is an historic royal residence next to St James’s Palace, the one-time principal residence of the monarch, it has the warmth and aura of a family home, which for a time Princess Elizabeth, The Duke of Edinburgh and their two children enjoyed immensely. It’s easy to imagine Prince Charles learning to walk here, toddling along the corridors and into the gardens with the corgis scampering through.

His grandmother, the Queen Mother, lived here for 49 years after her daughter became Queen, and for some of that time Princess Margaret – before the Princess married and moved to Kensington Palace – lived here with her mother. There were glittering cocktail parties and picnics on the lawns, and the Queen Mother was a huge patron of contemporary art, much of which hangs on the walls. Then, following the Queen Mother’s death in 2002, Prince Charles moved back in with his sons, and in 2005 was joined by his wife Camilla.

Today the residence, which is one of the last remaining aristocratic town houses in London, is not just the Heir’s London home, which he and his wife live in for around 70 days a year. It’s also the brains trust for his court, with offices for the Prince’s household. The Prince and Duchess have private rooms upstairs, while the downstairs living areas are used to entertain heads of state, foreign royalty and guests from all walks of life. Here the Prince of Wales recently hosted President Trump, and past visitors read like a who’s who of world figures, including the Dalai Lama, who calls the Prince, “very close, best of friends” and wandered hand in hand with HRH around the gardens. The magnolia spectrum that the Dalai Lama planted in 2008 still holds pride of place.

Part of the appeal for dignitaries, I suspect, is the homeliness of Clarence House, for even though it is filled with intriguing historic artefacts, furniture and paintings, and is the home of the future King of the United Kingdom, you really do feel you are being invited into a family sanctum. There are family photographs everywhere, especially of His Royal Highness’s sons and grandchildren, and behind every book, every object, is a story that is very personal.

I start my tour through the main front door into the entrance hall, where there are wooden toys that Prince Charles and Princess Anne played with, including an old-fashioned baker’s trolley and a wheelbarrow. But I can’t take my eyes off an extraordinary pedestal clock. This magnificent eighteenth-century piece with three painted dials plays tunes and features hands with crowns on their tips. It was a wedding gift to Prince Charles’ grandparents – the then Duke of York who became King George VI and Lady Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon – from the citizens of Glasgow in Scotland.

As I soon discover, the house is filled with gifts and many are from Australia. Some are permanently on display, like the four paintings in the Lancaster Room – first room on the right – and other items Prince Charles has kindly brought into the house today from the Royal Collection or Buckingham Palace, especially for my visit. The paintings are by Melbourne artist Norma Bull, who came to England in 1939. “She was an unofficial war artist in London and would just walk out after bombings and literally draw and paint what she saw,” a member of the royal household tells me. These were particularly poignant for Queen Elizabeth, who with the King defiantly stayed in London throughout the Blitz, personally visiting the capital’s bombed out streets. “In 1947 there was an exhibition of Bull’s paintings and Queen Elizabeth bought nine, among them these four. Norma Bull then gifted another two.”

The royal family’s connection to Australia is deep-seated, and the Prince was particularly keen for The Australian Women’s Weekly readers to see a very special pair of booties, which usually sit in the nursery corridor in Buckingham Palace. They were made for his mother when she was baby and presented to his grandmother, then the Duchess of York, by Indigenous Australians in Victoria when Her Royal Highness toured in 1927. They’re made from shells, velvet and sand and are exquisite.

Another souvenir from that visit is a small rock studded with gleaming nuggets of gold. The Prince’s grandmother’s handwritten note has also been saved: “Gold Bearing Quartz from Ballarat 29.4.27”.

In honour of my visit there is a display of Australian native flora in the dining room, and the air is rich with eucalyptus. Suitably, the silver wine coolers either side are a wedding gift, “to the Duke of York (later King George VI) on his marriage to Lady Bowes-Lyon, April 26, 1923, from Australians in London.”

When Prince Charles hosts dinners here, I am told he likes to sit in the middle rather than at the head of the table so he can talk to everyone, and he also likes to face the stunning painting of his grandmother as a young queen that hangs above the fireplace which is lit in winter. The painting is by Augustus John and is actually an unfinished work. “When he was asked to come to Buckingham Palace to paint Queen Elizabeth he was overcome and couldn’t look Her Majesty in the face, hence the detail on the dress. They provided him with a drink and even had a string quartet play next door to try to calm him down, but it really wasn’t working. When the Blitz started, they decided that they would finish the sittings because it was too dangerous. The artist rolled up the canvas and took it back to his studio. Then in the 1960s, there was a retrospective of his work and the Northern Shipping Line bought the painting as a gift for the Queen Mother as she was then, who was launching a ship for them. She absolutely loved it.”

The Queen Mother was a fan of preparatory sketches, finding them often to have more vibrancy than the finished work, and there are many throughout the house.

Each of the downstairs rooms has its own unique personality. The pale blues of the Morning Room reflect the Queen Mother’s racing colours, while the rich reds, golds and greens of the Garden Room echo the colours in a fine wall tapestry given to Queen Victoria by Emperor Napoleon III. There are small doors beneath the windows in this room, which I’m told were opened to let the corgis run into the garden.

But most notable are two musical instruments – a golden harp made especially for the Prince of Wales which is played by the royal harpist, and a Steinway grand piano which used to be in the Royal Lodge in Windsor and on which Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret learned to play. Noël Coward regularly played on this piano and was a frequent visitor to Clarence House. On top is one of his songbooks, in which the legendary playwright and composer has written, “To Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother, from Noël Coward”, and an indication of the sort of parties held here is a wine glass stain on the opening page!

One room which very few visitors see is on the third floor and holds special significance for Australia. It is called “The Quiet Room”, panelled in jarrah wood, a wedding gift to the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh from the Australian people. As I walk into this room there is a rich smell of the wood, and on the wall is a painting by James Ranalph Jackson of Australian bushland, presented to the Queen Mother by the government and people of NSW in February 1958.

The gardens at Clarence House have been remodelled by Prince Charles, adding a formal area in memory of his grandmother, laid out to His Royal Highness’s own design by members of The Prince’s Foundation School of Traditional Arts. The trees in the formal part of the garden have been topiaried into the shape of the Queen Mother’s parasol. While elsewhere, the Prince has introduced long grass where wild orchids grow and a vegie patch, which serves the house. On my visit crops of kale, spinach, carrots, broad beans, runner beans, leeks and lettuce burst through the soil.

In 2017 the Prince installed two beehives, and honey is harvested from the hives at Clarence House once a year. There is also a bee hotel, a curious collection of bamboo tubes fixed to the wall. “Beehives are for colonies but not all bees are in colonies, a lot of them are solitary and in the winter they find it quite difficult to find somewhere to be warm,” explains a household spokesperson. “The bee hotel has bamboo shoots with nooks and crannies for bees and insects to shelter and have a home.”

The gardens are also used for medal ceremonies and parties, including the Elephant Family masked ball to raise funds for the foundation, set up by the Duchess of Cornwall’s late brother Mark Shand.

And every year the Duchess invites children from a children’s hospice to decorate the Clarence House Christmas tree. “It is a lovely event that really sums up the joy of this house,” says a member of the household.

From Down Under

#king charles iii #queen camilla #clarence house #article

[bragtechads]

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[theretirementstory]

Greetings from a freezing cold Bar-sur-Aube, it’s -5c and we may reach the balmy heights of 1c later today. It has been very cold all week so I don’t feel as if I have done very much at all but I will let you judge.

To warm me up, let’s have a look at the songs I have chosen this week. The first song is “Higher Love” by Steve Winwood from 1982 and the second one “Ain’t Nobody” by Rufus and Chaka Khan from 1983. Hard to believe that these songs are over 40 years old 😳. I have given my heart and lungs a workout singing and dancing along to the tunes.

So one lot of checks have been returned OK for “The Ex-Graduates” new job, she is going next week for “the vetting” process and then it shouldn’t be too much longer before she starts the job. How exciting!

“The Trainee Solicitor” is working like a Trojan. His boss has been out of the office for quite a few days so far this year and has left the workload to him. That’s fine until you hit a problem but I am sure we all know this is “normal” worklife (unfortunately).

Working from home is to be the new norm for “The Photographer” unfortunately it’s not in the field of photography (at the moment). It seems that he has enjoyed just moving from one room to another to start his work, likes that a break means he can go into the kitchen in his home to get a drink and an hours lunch starts prompt at the allotted time (something which doesn’t happen when you are dealing with customers face to face). It’s early days but having a couple of hours travelling time given back to you is something and he can use that time for shopping, appointments or going to the gym.

My granddaughter FaceTimed me this morning without her Daddy being in the room so it was a surprise for him when he heard her talking to me. Her little brother is on penicillium medicine as he has an ear infection. He was in the kitchen with Grandad but came through to have a chat with me. They were at the cinema yesterday to see the Disney film “Wish” and are going out today to see butterflies and aquatic creatures. My granddaughter ended the call saying “bye I will ring you tomorrow “ 😂😂.

Now my week, the cleaner has been, returning to her two days a week. I don’t think the house really warrants 4 hours cleaning per week but she does move furniture to clean underneath, wash windows as well as dust, vacuum and wash floors so I can’t complain. Then I had my appointment with the oncologist. He had my blood test results and I was sad that things were not as good as they could have been with a couple of areas of concern. I came away with a prescription for five days of injections to boost my white cells and was told to have fortnightly blood tests now too. Well nothing I can do about it just got to wait for the next round of blood test results.

I was fortunate on Tuesday that I went into town to the pharmacy in the morning as in the afternoon it SNOWED! I have arranged with the nurse to come in for the next five days to give me my injections also arranged for them to come to do blood test on 22/1.

My cousin, in London, had her birthday this week. I had posted her card last week, however I went online and arranged a small hamper of 4 saffron buns, 1 pack of Cornish Faring biscuits, 1 pack of Cornish clotted cream shortbread and a box of Cornish Black tea although it didn’t arrive on her birthday it arrived the following day.

I also took the opportunity to order more books for myself, although I am back to knitting and crochet I like to read before I go to sleep.

It was the week for the knitting group and as the weather had turned so cold I couldn’t decide whether to go or not. Anyway after exchanging a few messages with Claudine I decided to go. I have been crocheting something which does resemble a scarf and as I have plenty of this wool I can make it quite long. I had also found a book of knitting patterns for children’s clothes, however the instructions are in French. I have decided that I am going to knit a cardigan from the book and I cast it on. I am enjoying knitting something different, a different pattern but one that is easy to do. Let’s hope it continues as easy as this is at the moment.

I knew that I had to get over my fear of rats and mice which may be lurking in the compost. So far I had been brave enough to go and put my vegetable peelings in there but as far as turning the compost went, it hadn’t been done for months with the result that the peelings were just sitting on top of the other matter. I plucked up courage to go out into the freezing cold (dressed like Nanook Of The North) armed with my twisty thing and a garden fork. I was working quite well then decided to use the garden fork, now this meant removing part of the front of the composter and I was sure I would see something staring at me, but no, not a thing and I was rather pleased with the result. I feel ready to maybe do this job once a week to oxygenate the pile and get it “working”. I have previously been told that you will know if rats are in the bin as you will smell ammonia (apparently rats urinate a lot) whether this is true or false whenever I open the composter I take a good sniff.

I have had messages from Monique, Pauline (in Barcelona), have messaged Anie (who should have returned from Indonesia this week) and Maud (no reply from these two) plus have been in contact with Sarah, Denise (a lady from the old knitting group) and friends in the UK.

I do so love January here in France. If you employ people to work in your home (gardener, cleaning lady in my case) you can claim money back on your tax. The tax office usually give you an advance in January and my notification came through this week. Also, I pay my energy by direct debit and I did increase my payments (as instructed) in September. Now I only pay 11 months of the year, get my invoice showing all the details of usage, payments etc in January and any overpayment is refunded directly. Imagine my surprise when I was informed I had overpaid so would be refunded. I have my heating on extra hours a day and still get a refund 😁.

Today is the Fete sans Frontiere in town and normally I would be going. However, as I still want to keep safe due to low immunity, it seems silly to go into a hall with well over 100 people and remove my mask to eat. Also they ask that you take a dish with you for sharing. These are then laid out and people are called up to go and collect food. Now 1) you don’t how hygienic the preparation of the food may be, 2) fingers could have touched the food that is laid out, had hands been washed say after using the toilet, 3) coughs and sneezes spread diseases and no matter what, someone could cough or sneeze while in the queue, not everyone carries sanitiser! No I don’t want to be among that, not when I (feel) I have managed to steer clear of any infection so far. So I guess I will stay at home, in the warm, and do some knitting or crochet.

I feels like coffee time now, I am also trying to get into the habit of having a piece of fruit mid-morning and mid-afternoon. It cuts down on munching on biscuits and enables me to have my five-a-day. I baked a quiche yesterday so I will be having quiche with something healthy this lunchtime.

So I will wish you all a very good week until next week.

#barsuraube #nature #photography #baking #knitting #reading #livingthedream #trees #friends #family #80’s music

[systemtek]

EE adds over 400 new small cells to increase 4G capacity and reduce congestion in the busiest areas

EE has now successfully deployed over 600 street-level mobile sites, known as small cells, across the UK, delivering on its commitment to add hundreds of new sites to the 200 announced just over one year ago. A further 411 small cell installations are now delivering enhanced capacity in high demand areas, including in major cities such as Birmingham, Brighton and Sheffield, ensuring customers can take advantage of download speeds of up to 300Mbps even at the busiest of times. Other new locations to benefit from EE’s ongoing small cells deployment include the cities of Swansea, Leicester, Coventry, Wolverhampton, Southampton and York. Meanwhile a host of seasonal hotspots have also received a timely connectivity boost ahead of the Summer, including Newquay, Paignton, Salcombe, Southend-on-Sea and Clacton-on-Sea. Small cells take advantage of existing street assets, such as BT’s iconic red telephone boxes, to help enhance street-level mobile coverage in busy areas where it’s impractical to build larger sites, such as city-centres and transport hubs. As well as being located on phone boxes, lamp posts and CCTV columns, EE has installed approximately 60 small cells on BT’s innovative new digital Street Hubs, further maximising the benefit of these assets to communities. EE’s 611 small cell sites currently carry 20TB of data traffic every day – the equivalent of streaming 8,000 hours of HD video or 280,000 hours of music – demonstrating the substantial value they offer to customers in high demand areas, as well as the importance of EE’s strategy to build prior to the arrival of any congestion whenever possible. Sites are identified via advanced network analytics, which highlights specific locations that would most benefit from the performance boost enabled by a small cell. Then, working alongside Nokia, EE deploys a 4G small cell solution which couples its licenced 1800MHz and 2600Mhz spectrum with unlicenced 5GHz spectrum to deliver standout speed and capacity.

James Hope, Director of Mobile Radio Access Networks, EE: “As demand for data continues to rise, small cells are becoming an increasingly integral part of our mobile network. Our partnership with Nokia ensures customers continue to benefit from our fastest 4G speeds even at the busiest times and in the most congested of locations, and we’re proud to pass another milestone in this project as we continue to invest in improving the UK’s best mobile network* up and down the country.” Mark Atkinson, SVP, Radio Access Networks PLM at Nokia: “Nokia has an extensive portfolio of high-capacity outdoor and indoor small cells that deliver premium 4G and 5G network performance in dense urban and in-building environments. This latest deployment will ensure that EE’s customers benefit from seamless connectivity particularly in congested or high-demand areas at multiple cities across the UK. We are delighted to continue our partnership with EE and support their ambition to deliver the country’s best network.” EE’s continued network investment will see hundreds more small cells deployed in the coming months, both in existing and new towns and cities. EE is also trialling the extension of small cells to accommodate its 5G network, with Nokia’s AirScale portfolio able to seamlessly upgrade to 5G. Last year, EE announced its first such small cell deployments, which brought additional 4G capacity to cities including Leeds, London, Manchester, Newcastle, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Liverpool, Nottingham and Scarborough. In Newcastle, EE has worked with the City Council to deploy over 20 small cells so far, making use of existing street furniture to boost capacity in busy locations including the city centre, Newcastle University, and in proximity to St James’ Park stadium. Cllr Alex Hay, Newcastle City Council cabinet member for a Resilient City: “We’re really pleased to be working with EE to improve infrastructure and increase digital connectivity across the city. Matchdays see more than 50,000 people concentrated in a small area, and anyone who has attended football matches and other large events will know it can be difficult to obtain a mobile signal in those environments. By enabling the use of our assets for EE to deploy small cells, we’re boosting connectivity and giving residents and visitors alike an improved experience in our city. We’re proud of our reputation as a leading smart, modern city and are always willing to work with others to further develop local infrastructure.” *Rankings based on RootMetrics® UK and metro RootScore® reports: H2 2022. Tested with best commercially available smartphones on 4 national mobile networks across all available network types. Your experiences may vary. The RootMetrics® award is not an endorsement of EE. Reports at RootMetrics.co.uk. Visit ee.co.uk/claims for more details. Read the full article

#BT #EE #MobilePhone