#wanted to draw wales but i got lazy

[eggcheeseham-ster]

Mayblade Day 7: Vintage

I was doing research on vintage fashion that isn't just browsing Pinterest, and while looking through Vogue archives I stumbled upon this particular cover. It's so pretty I *had* to draw it.

#this is a nice lazy piece to just heavily reference from and have a good time drawing sophie #wanted to draw wales but i got lazy #mfb #metal fight beyblade #sophie beyblade #mayblade 2024

[ingek73]

Princess Kate’s new ‘ballbuster’ private secretary quit before she even started work

March 26, 2023

By Kaiser Kate Middleton, Royals

Last December, we learned that the Princess of Wales’s private secretary had “quit” months beforehand. That private secretary was Hannah Cockburn-Logie, and she was with Kate starting in May 2020. She oversaw a lot of Kate’s Early Years busy-work. Kate then went without a private secretary for months, because (big surprise) she does f–k all and her staffers get unbelievably bored. Then, in February, there was suddenly a big push – Kate hired someone named Alison Corfield, who was then described as “loud” and a “ballbuster.” Corfield never started work in Kensington Palace. She opted to keep her job with Jamie Oliver. Ouch. Interestingly enough, the Telegraph got the exclusive on this, only they changed the headline after (presumably) a bitching out from Kensington Palace. The headline went from “Princess of Wales’s new private secretary rejects job, opting to stay with Jamie Oliver” to “Princess of Wales’s new private secretary rejects job to ‘stay under the radar’.” Guess Kate didn’t want to sound like she came up short compared to Jamie Oliver? Or maybe Kate doesn’t want to sound like she also can’t keep staff longer than a minute.

The “straight talking” PR guru hired as the Princess of Wales’s new private secretary has opted to stay with chef Jamie Oliver rather than take up the role, The Telegraph can reveal.

Alison Corfield, 51, is understood to have been uncomfortable with the prospect oqqf having such a high-profile position and decided instead to remain under the radar.

The mother of three, a branding and marketing expert, has worked with Oliver for eight years. A source said: “She loves the work and is an integral member of the campaigning team. She decided she just wanted to keep her head down and get on with the job she knows so well in the background. She didn’t want the publicity that comes with working at that level for such a well-known institution.”

The decision means that Kensington Palace aides have had to return to the drawing board in their search for the ideal candidate who will play a large part in shaping the Princess’s role.

[From The Telegraph]

The bar is in hell: “Kensington Palace aides have had to return to the drawing board in their search for the ideal candidate who will play a large part in shaping the Princess’s role.” She’s 41 years old and she’s been married to William for almost twelve years. Kate shouldn’t need a staffer to “play a large part” in SHAPING her role. It should have already been “shaped” years ago. We heard, endlessly, for years and years that Kate was preparing to be Princess of Wales and queen consort, that she was so keen to finally do and be something and… nothing ever came of it. She’s Princess of Wales and she’s still dependent on hiring some private secretary who will – through sheer force of will? – suddenly make all of the lazy, incompetent pieces fit together.

Speaking of, Kensington Palace’s editing elves couldn’t make Kate sound like an educated, competent woman in her 40s discussing her life’s work. This is Kate speaking to Iceland Foods’ Richard Walker about “the science” behind Early Years. Walker even says, directly, that people are really struggling financially and Kate just breezes past that, like it would never f–king occur to her to use her position and use this time and effort to… help out struggling families. It’s insane. I have to ask again, and I know I’m a broken record about this, but Jesus H., you guys: how is she not embarrassed? Are palace staffers embarrassed about this?? I guess they are, because Alison Corfield took one look at this sh-tshow and noped out of there in a hurry.

#kate middleton #british royal family #duchess of cambridge #celebitchy

[tinyglitterrose]

Ash is on the floor

boyxboy, 18+

Top Luke, Bottom Ashton

Warnings: SMUT

basically an Ashton centered foursome.

---

"Why are we doing this again?", Calum asked, rolling his eyes.

"Because we're bored and we got nothing to do"

"That's the same thing, Mike", Ashton said.

"Whatever", Michael grinned, "Who wants to go first?"

Luke eagerly raised his hand.

"Luke, you're not supposed to want to start, you have to try to be the last", Ashton shook his head at his younger bandmate.

"I know, I know, but I'm excited that we're playing something"

Calum pulled a card from the stack.

"Alright, question for Luke: Who invented the lightbulb and what year?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to know that?"

Calum and Ashton shrugged the same moment that Michael shrieked: "You have to strip now!"

So Luke had to be the first one to take an item of clothing off. The band didn't think of it as weird, they had seen each other naked a lot of times before and it was simply the easiest way to determine who was the looser of this game. Well, they could have made a list but they were too lazy to look for a paper and a pen so stripping it was.

"What is a sinus curve?", Calum read and immediately groaned, "That's so unfair, your mom is a math teacher"

Because it was Luke's turn again and his mom had told asked him this exact question often enough that he was actually able to give the correct answer.

Thankfully, there were also some easy questions in this game, like what is 3 times 4 or name three fruits and vegetables. It was easy. Or it should be, but Ashton kept failing his questions.

"Man, come on, three animals that live underwater", Michael repeated the question.

"I - uh...fish?", Ashton was trying his best to think of three animals, three damn animals. But how could he think of animals when all his bandmates were sitting shirtless across from him. Luke had grown some chest hair that Ashton wanted to nuzzle his face in, Calum's abs were...he just wanted to lick them all over and Mike's soft tummy made him want to grab and touch. Ashton was not okay.

"What kind of fish?"

"Umm...like...like, uh, small fish and...wales"

"Wales, okay, small fish, no, Ash, come on, where's your brain?", Luke laughed. They were all laughing at him.

But Ashton's brain was on standby, all that was in his mind was 'abs, chest, naked guys'.

"...two, one.", Calum finished the countdown, "Alright, sorry mate, you gotta draw a blank"

Ashton blinked. And only then did he realize that he had failed so often now that he was only sitting here in his boxers. Michael was in his boxers, too, but he still had both his socks on. Ashton, on the other hand, had only his boxers left.

"Uh, well, I think we can stop playing, I obviously lost", he tried to laugh it off, but his bandmates were not having it and started protesting.

"No, you lost, you have to go with the rules", Calum said.

"I can still win, Ash, don't ruin this for me", Luke said.

"Your dick is not that impressive, mate", Michael said and grinned widely.

So Ashton had no choice. His face felt hot when he clumsily shoved his boxers off without standing up and simultaniously trying to hide his junk from the prying eyes of his friends.

Great, now he was sitting stark naked in front of his friends that happened to turn him on. At least he didn't have to play anymore.

But the others kept playing and they kept losing articles of clothing.

Ashton slowly slid his legs up to his body, to better hide the boner that he was slowly but surely getting from this. This was not good, so not good.

"Didn't you say something about winning?", Michael's joyful voice brought him back to the game.

It was directed at Luke who was grumbling to himself, standing up and suddenly shoving his underwear down his legs.

Ashton's eyes bulged out of his head for a second, before he remembered that he had to act like he was totally cool. And obviously he had seen Luke's dick before, but it still caught him off guard. And it was not good for his own dick.

Luke wasn't even ashamed. He sat back down, legs spread, hands placed on the floor behind him so that he was slightly leaning back and could comfortably watch Calum and Michael continue to play the game.

Ashton kept stealing small glances at the blonde's penis, just because it was so displayed. He was practically forced to look.

"You alright there?", Luke asked quietly, while Mike and Calum were arguing whether a potato counted as a vegetable or not.

Ashton looked up from his own feet to meet Luke's blue eyes. One of his eyebrows were raised in question.

"You sure?", Luke asked again, when Ashton hastily nodded, "You look a bit uncomfortable there"

Ashton blushed, pulling his legs even more towards his body and shrugged, unable to say anything because he would only have been able to stutter. He could not talk to a naked Luke that was still very much showing off his dick.

Luke didn't question him any further, but he kept looking at Ashton as if checking to see what was wrong.

The drummer really hoped that Luke didn't notice his staring at his other bandmembers chests or the way he silently gasped when he saw Calum's biceps bulge from ripping a card from Michael's hands.

"I win!", Michael shouted exitedly all of a sudden, which was really not so suddenly, but Ashton had barely been paying attention to the game. He jumped from the shout and let his legs slip for a second, before quickly pulling them up again.

But he had fucked up.

"Are you hard?", Luke asked bluntly and immediately he had the attention of three australians.

Play it cool, just play if off, Ashton thought to himself, as if he was not panicking right now.

"No? What the fuck, Luke?", he tried to sound arrogant and even rolled his eyes at the blonde, but the other man wasn't having it.

"No, no, you're hard, I saw that", then he giggled, "You have a boner, Ashy, I saw it"

Ashton shook his head violently, but Calum interrupted him before he could object again: "Do you really?"

"No, of course not"

"Then put your legs down", Michael ordered.

"Pff, no, I'm not letting you guys look at my dick, just so you can realize that Luke's being stupid"

"If you have nothing to hide, do it", Calum joined in. Shit. He needed to get out of this, he couldn't let them see that Luke was absolutely right.

"Yeah, show us your penis, Ash!", Luke grinned brightly.

"Shut up", they all groaned in response, but kept nagging Ashton.

"You're being really suspicious", Calum said, trying to hide a wide grin. Ashton was still trying to come up with a response in his mind, when suddenly his knees were gripped and forcefully pushed down with one harsh move.

"Mike!", Ashton shouted angrily, "You could've just broken my legs!"

But he received no answer.

The drummer's hands flew to cover up his erect dick to try to shield it from his bandmate's wide staring eyes, but surprisingly it was Luke who caught his left hand and held it in the air to prevent him from doing so. Calum quickly did the same with his right hand and before Ashton could even think of pulling his legs back up, the grip of Michael's hands on his ankles tightened.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

His best friends were all wordlessly staring at his exposed boner that he got because of them and Ashton just wanted to cry. Screw that, he was already crying, tears started to silently trickle down his cheeks.

He felt so humiliated. Was this the moment that he would get kicked out of the band? They would tell him how absolutely disgusting he was and then nakedly push him out the house and he would bang on the door but no one would let him back in and then his stuff would be thrown out of one of the windows and they'd shout at him to never come back -

"Ash", it was Luke's soft voice that brought him back.

The blonde's face turned to a pained expression when his friend turned to him, looking up with wide, glassy, terrified and shameful eyes.

"Don't cry", Luke mumbled helplessly, "Please"

Ashton averted his eyes to where Luke's hand was holding his wrist to the floor and sniffled.

"I'm sorry", he cried quietly, "I'm sorry -"

"Don't be, Ash, look at Luke, hm?", Calum nodded encouragingly towards Luke's bare crotch. Was this a trick and when he looked they'd say he was disgusting for looking at his best friend's dick while his own was hard? But he couldn't not obey with Calum's soft eyes looking at him like that. With these warm dark brown chocolates.

"Luke!", he spluttered and looked up into the bright blue eyes once he had followed Calum's request.

Luke grinned lopsidely and shrugged.

"Y'know I'm gay, can't help it when a pretty boy is naked and hard right in front of me", he didn't seem embarrassed at all. Not even while admitting that seeing Ashton hard had made him hard as well. Ashton had - the drummer gulped, stealing another glance at what was apparently his fault.

"You - I made you-"

"You don't realize how fucking hot you are, do you?", Luke was still grinning like that. Like it was normal to chat to each other about being hot, while they were both sitting on the floor naked and with their erections out.

Ashton didn't say anything back. He was jut staring dumbly at his best friend.

Luke shook his head slightly, then his hand reached towards Ashton and before said boy could even fathom what was about to happen, the blonde's hand wrapped itself around Ashton's member and began to stroke it slowly.

Ashton's mouth fell open to release a gasp and then a choked off whimper when Luke squeezed his fingers around the tip, causing a few drops of precum to dribble from it.

Ashton's face was redder than the tip of his dick and he closed his eyes, not wanting to have to look at any of his friends, while one of them was jerking him off.

"I want his mouth", Calum mumbled all of a sudden and then Ashton was pressed to the floor, forced to lie down with Luke still touching his dick.

He opened his eyes, the hazel orbs immediately going wide when he saw Calum crawl up to his head with no underwear on and also hard. He was going to look away again and close his eyes once more but to Ashton's utter shock, the maori boy climbed right onto his chest, one leg on either side of him. His dick was hanging right into Ashton's face, the boy going cross eyed as he looked at it, his mouth dropping open as wide as his eyes.

"Can you", Calum seemed to hesitate, carefully stroking a loose curl out of the drummer's face, "um, suck it for me?"

Ashton blinked at him wordlessly for a few seconds, hardly noticing the groan Michael let out from somewhere behind Calum. Luke's thumb flicked over his slit and caused him to moan quietly and he decided okay he was going to do this.

With unsurely flickering eyes, switching between Calum's face and his dick, he slowly opened his mouth wider, lifting his head a little towards it.

Calum understood and bent forward so that Ashton laid his head back on the floor and let the back of his head be softly craddled by one of Calum's hands, the other wrapping itself around his dick and slowly feeding the pink swollen tip to the drummer.

"Shit", Calum whispered at the wet feeling of a mouth enveloping his dick. He let Ashton adjust to the strange feeling for a few moments, before he got his hips closer to his face, Ashton ending up with half of his friends' length in his mouth.

"Fuck, he looks so-", Michael stopped the words to groan and Ashton hadn't even noticed him crawling up next to him, now naked just like everyone else. He looked up at him with big glassy eyes, his mouth full of dick and Michael couldn't help but groan again.

"Fucking shit, you look - so hot, Ash, you don't even know", he rambled, starting to stroke himself and simultaniously wrapping the other hand around Luke who was right next to him.

The youngest's fingers tightened around Ashton in response, which then caused Ashton to suck in his breath, lips closing tightly around Calum's dick and Calum groaned. Long and loud and with a "goddamn, do that again".

So Ashton did. He had no idea how to give a blowjob, but he just tried out what he thought he was supposed to do and what girls had done to him before and it seemed to work.

At some point, when he was sure Michael and Luke were about to start kissing, Calum started to move his hips back and forth, using Ashton's mouth and Ashton let him.

He let his eyes slip shut, a few tears slipping past his eyelashes at the action and released a sound that was meant to tell Calum he could keep going. Whether the bassist understood that or not, he did it anyway.

"Shit, that's so- yea", he groaned, hips picking up force and starting to slowly but deeply fuck into the other boys' mouth.

Michael and Luke stopped their actions to watch, Ashton only noticing that because of the hand around his dick suddenly disappearing. And maybe Michael's vocalization of how hot he looked with 'his throat stuffed full of cock'.

He blinked his eyes open again, meeting Luke's that were staring right back at him, Michael's focused on his lips and Calum's dick instead.

Luke reached out and wiped another tear from his cheek, his hand then continuing to go into his hair and softly massaging his scalp.

"You're doing so good, Ash", he mumbled reassuringly, "so good, look so pretty like this"

Ashton tried to nod, but choked on Calum and Luke giggled slightly, while the other two moaned loudly. Ashton loved how fond and caring Luke was being with him.

"I kinda want his ass, guys", Michael mumbled, at the same time reaching out and grabbing a handful of one of Ashton's pecks to squeeze.

Ashton let out a whimper, lips tightening around Calum and no one, not even Calum himself, was prepared when he seized up and started jolting and suddenly coming down Ashton's throat.

"Oh my - sorry, sorry", Calum scrambled off the other boy when he began choking and coughing heavily, him and Luke cradling his head and lifting it up slightly to help Ashton sort his breath out again. A bit of spit was dribbling down the corners of Ashton's mouth and Luke wiped it away with his thumb when Ashton was just heavily breathing, his flushed chest rising and falling rapidly, big teary eyes looking up at Calum.

"That...salty", he said and Calum laughed.

The only one not seeming bothered by his friend choking on his other friend's cum was Michael.

Ashton had forgotten about the boy, too focused on not dying from being too stupid to swallow. His presence was burned back into his mind, though, when there were hands gripping his thighs and slung over shoulders and then his butt was lifted a few inches into the air.

Ashton squeaked unmanly and thudded back down to the floor with his upper body, reflexively gripping for Luke's and Calum's thighs on either side of him to hold on to something.

Hands were groping at his ass, grabbing at the flesh of it and Ashton could only stare down at the colored hair of Michael's head and gasp when his cheeks were pulled apart harshly and he felt a blow of air right on his most sensitive area.

He blushed furiously, looking to Luke as if seeking help but not knowing what he wanted help for. The youngest one noticed the eyes on him and bent down to kiss his nose sweetly.

"Relax, Ash", he mumbled to him, hand sliding on to his chest and fingers stroking over one of his nipples softly, "Mike's just gonna eat your cute little ass"

Ashton's mouth dropped open at the contrast of Luke's sweet actions to his filthy words. The other boy just grinned back at him, knowing exactly what effect his words had on the drummer and pinching the nipple under his fingers.

Ashton's head hit the floor with a thud when he felt the first wet stripe over his hole.

He could feel Michael's face inbetween his spread cheeks, his slight scruff rubbing against them and his wet tongue continuously running itself over his sensitive rim. It licked fat stripes through his whole crack, up to where his balls where which he kissed softly, then back down and then he circled the hole with his tongue.

It was like Michael was a panther on a hunt and Ashton's ass was his prey and he was circling around it until he would jump to catch it. And he did.

"Aaaaah", Ashton gasped, when Michael pushed the pointed tip of his tongue into him.

Ashton threw his head from side to side, squirming and trashing under the guitarists' hold. He had never been eaten out by anyone, never had someone else touch him there at all and the feeling of a tongue repeatedly thrusting into him, slicking him up, was overwhelming.

His back arched off the floor with a loud whine when he felt one of Michael's fingers suddenly pushing at his entrance. His tongue was now licking around his rim again, leaving the opening free for the finger to push in.

Ashton's legs twitched where they were still hanging off Mike's shoulders when he pushed the finger all the way in in one slow motion.

"He hasn't even found your prostate yet, baby" Calum said next to Ashton, amused but amazed at the same time. His hand came up to softly stroke over his chest that was starting to get sweaty.

Soon, two more fingers were pushing into him, and finally Michael pressed them up to press against his prostate.

"Mmmh - I - aaaah", he gasped, face pressing into Luke's hand that put itself on the side of his face.

Michael started thrusting them in and out of the drummer, pressing up against his prostate with every thrust in and Ashton's chest started lifting off the floor as if he was spasming with the rhytmic thrusts.

"It's okay, Ash, you're okay", Luke mumbled next to him, smiling sweetly when Ashton opener his teary eyes to look at him. His mouth was open against Luke's hand, gasping into it, unable to close it.

His hand stroked over his cheek for a few more moments, then he couldn't seem to handle just watching anymore and grumbled: "I think that's enough Mike, I want him now"

Ashton turned to look up at him with wide eyes, mouth still agape as he watched him crawl away to get into Michael's place between his legs.

Michael took Luke's previous position, getting comfortable kneeling, then wrapping a hand around his dick to slowly stroke it.

A slick sound came from Ashton's right side and when he turned his face to Calum, he saw the maori one stroking precum down his own dick, making it glisten all over.

All the while, Luke had gotten a condom from somehwere and lube and now he was putting the items on his dick.

So many dicks. And all hard just for the drummer laying spread out on the floor. Ashton looked around at them all, eyes wide with wonder, confusion, he was unable to grasp what was going on, but also so turned on. They all wanted him. Just like he wanted them.

"You ready, Ash?", Luke asked carefully, massaging one of his wide thighs to let him know everything was okay.

Ashton gulped, then, after taking a shaky breath, nodded his head. Not a second later, he let it hit the floor again, the feeling of the warm and slick tip nudging at his opened hole overwhelming him. And it wasn't just any dick, it was Luke's. One of his best friends.

And his other two best friends were both masturbating not even a feet away from him. If Michael were to come right now, it would probably stripe Ashton's chest and shoulder.

And Ashton kind of wanted that. But there was no time to keep thinking about it, because a dick was breaching his hole and slowly pushing in. Luke's hands grabbed onto Ashton's thighs, lifting them to wrap them around his waist and Ashton gasped, actually forgetting how to breathe for a second, when it made Luke be able to push in deeper.

He bent down to kiss the drummer's nose once again, knowing Ashton needed the reassurance, time to calm down and the knowledge that Luke wouldn't suddenly start mindlessly pounding into him.

It caused said boy to smile lightly, dimples appearing in his cheeks, and Luke's one dimple in one of his cheeks then appearing as well as he smiled back. It was impossible to not smile back at this boy.

"God, how can you look so innocent when you're full of dick, Ash?", Michael went and ruined the moment.

"Right?", Calum added, one hand wrapped around his dick now, too.

While Ashton was distracted for a moment, Luke used that to slowly pull out and back in. Ashton's mouth dropped open for the fourth or maybe it was the fifth time tonight.

It didn't last long. Luke was stuttering after two minutes of thrusting, almost drowning out Ashton's constant whines and moans with his own sounds and the way Ashton's thighs clenched around Luke's waist showed that he was getting pretty close, too.

Michael was furiously rubbing his hand up and down his leaking dick, Calum was taking his time but he couldn't hide his gasps.

What made Luke and Calum fall over the edge at almost exactly the same time was Michael.

Michael screwing his eyes shut, hand speeding up further, dick starting to twitch and then he was cumming on the floor. Mostly.

Two thin white streaks hit Ashton across the face, striping his cheek. The drummer let out the most high pitched sound of the night, almost a squeak and perhaps it was because he hadn't been expecting that.

"Fuck", Calum groaned at seeing Ashton not only be fucked on the floor, while two more people were masturbating right next to him but also freaking getting the cum shot on his face. It was so dirty, but too hot to handle.

Luke seemed to think the same, stumbling over his moans, senseless words, a few "Ash"s mixed in, and he was cumming, too.

Ashton's back arched as he felt the dick inside him twitch, he didn't know that he would be able to feel that but he did, he felt how Luke was spurting into the condom and due to Calum's groan he was simultaniously watching the maori boy cum all over his hand.

And all for him. He had just made three boys come, his three best friends.

He loved it.

His body seemed to agree - Ashton wasn't able to connect his brain with his body anymore or maybe he just forgot how to think - as it started spasming, hole clenching and unclenching around Luke who was still gently thrusting inside him, wanting to make Ashton cum with his dick.

"Lu - aaah! I - hmm aaaaah", he gasped, then he was shooting out strings of cum himself. He felt hands gently grabbing his shoulders, wrapping around his waist and onto his thighs halfways through it, making him feel grounded as he lived out his orgasm.

His eyes were heavy, closing by themselves when his penis stopped twitching, having wrung out all the cum that he had.

"We should..."

"Yea..."

"Alright, guys,..."

He only heard half their murmured sentences, not even caring that he was still lying completely naked and covered in cum on the floor.

He also didn't open them when he felt himself being lifted up, he only hid his face in the warm chest in a weak attempt of hiding from his friends again, but being too tired to really be embarrassed now.

When he opened them again a few minutes later, he found himself in Michael's king sized bed, all three of his bandmates snuggled around him, building a big cuddling mess.

Calum was already snoring and Mike's eyes were closed, too. Luke's blue ones, though, blinked at him when he turned to look to his left. A lazy but comforting, once again reassuring smile was on his face and Ashton relaxed fully into the mess of arms around him, falling asleep naked but not the least bit scared or embarrassed about it.

---

yaaaaay, finally finished this one! i've been writing on this for almost a month and i'm sick rn but i really wanted to finish it today!

#5sos masterlist #5sos fanfic #5sos imagines #ashton 5sos #ashton imagine #ashton irwin #bottom ashton #fanfic #ashton smut #5sos gay smut #luke smut #luke hemming imagines #luke 5sos #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings #top calum #calum hood smut #calum 5sos #calum hood #top luke #michael 5sos #michael imagine #michael clifford #top michael #5sos #5sos smut

[winterwrites23]

Wales’s dream is to play for his national rugby team. Alas, being a nation would put the opposing team in disadvantage

Unless he plays with other nations, then he’s a man to be feared lol

#hetalia #aph wales #hws wales #I wanted to draw the bros for the Olympics but meh I got lazy ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #so you'll just have Wales

[theasstour]

𝐍𝐞𝐰𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏𝟒𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭

A/N: Now that we’re at the end of year 1, there will be a lil pause in updates for the time being, just fyi! Next update will be on Sunday 23rd May and then every Sunday until the end of the second year again, which is a tag bit longer and MUCH more eventful than the first year aiajfiegj ✨ Anyway !!! Enjoy chapter 11, it’s a Lot 🏛️🦅

December 2013

Though Y/N was used to her sister doing things when she wanted to and not really having a care in the world for what anyone else would think, it still took her a little by surprise when she walked in the direction of the woods. The sisters had helped their parents carry all the luggage indoors, not doing so would result in Lottie scolding them for being lazy. Neither wanted the Christmas cabin trip to start on a bad note.

“You coming?!” Marcela called to her sister, stopping by a tree and resting her hand against it.

“Coming…” Y/N said to herself, looking over at the cabin door that still stood open before glancing in Marcela’s direction again. “Coming where?!”

“Let’s take a walk!”

It was just about to get dark, the sky above them white like a cotton blanket was draped lazily over the south of Wales, but greying with an oncoming storm. The last time Y/N had been to Newport was a weekend in October, but it had been raining constantly, so she had not taken the time to walk around the forest or stroll down to the ocean a mere 10-minute walk from the cabin. She had just been indoors, reading The Picture of Dorian Gray and not feeling any sort of need to leave the cabin’s four warm walls. Marcela had been in Manchester then, busy with uni work, and planning on spending the weekend studying in the library. She had an article that needed to be written for the UoM’s monthly academic journal, she said she wanted to finish it as quickly as possible, so Y/N had not asked her sister to drop it and come regardless. Though she had very much wanted to do just that.

“Y/N!”

Y/N walked over to her sister instantly, jogging a little to reach her before Marcela just turned around and started walking on before they were side by side. Though the trees around them weren’t many, they were big. Huge beech trunks rose up from the ground around them sporadically, their massive branches stretching out around them like the long, slithering limbs of many insects. Different coloured leaves covered most of the forest floor, though some brown and yellow still lingered in the dark, old trees. In summertime, most of the forest was left in shade, covered up by the thick layer of leaves that rose high above them, preventing actual sunbeams from touching the ground.

“Any idea what you’re gonna be wearing for New Year’s Eve?” Marcela asked once the two of them had walked a minute in silence.

New Year’s Eve was just a few days away, and the family planned on spending it alone in Newport. Marcela usually spent it with Kit and friends in Manchester, but it had been a while since she had celebrated a proper Brazilian New Year’s Eve. Though the Montes family usually spent it in Nottingham with the rest of their big family, Davi and Lottie wanted to try and spend this one with just the four of them. Neither one of the sisters were opposed to the idea, it just meant they wouldn’t have to watch their primos, Edgar at 7, Valentim at 5, and Raimundo at 2, while tia Gilma and tio Jaren ate their Véspera de Ano Novo dinner undisturbed. They loved their primos dearly, but it often left both of them massaging their temples to get rid of a throbbing headache afterwards.

“I brought a white tee shirt and some white joggers,” Y/N said, wrinkling her nose. “I hate wearing white.”

“Why, it doesn’t go with your gothic-black-clothing type of lifestyle?” Marcela laughed, reaching up and picking a yellow leaf off a branch.

Y/N did not feel like telling Marcela why she hated wearing white. And in turn therefore hated part of New Year’s Eve. Only that one part.

Davi always started off every Réveillon, or every new year, by knocking on his daughters’ doors and exclaiming, “Ano novo, vida nova!” New Year, new life. Brazilians are extremely superstitious when it comes to New Year’s Eve. What you do, eat, and wear on New Year’s Eve, will draw certain energies and wishes for the upcoming year. New Year’s Eve in Rio de Janeiro is a massive beach party from Copacabana Beach to Ipanema and beyond. Millions upon millions of people gather at their nearest beach to celebrate, starting early in the evening and going all night, Y/N had always dreamed of one day experiencing that herself. She had been to Brazil, but never on New Year’s Eve.

One of the Brazilian traditions for New Year’s is to wear all-white. Y/N was told by Davi years ago that the tradition came from African religions as an homage to the God Oxalá. It was then adopted by Roman Catholics and Evangelists alike, and though their family wasn’t religious, they practiced this regardless. Another tradition that you did alongside the all-white, was that you have to wear coloured underwear on New Year’s, and it all depended on what you want you want the new year to bring.

“I brought a white dress,” Marcela explained. “What colour?”

“Hmm, I brought a few colours. Think I might go with laranja.”

“Orange,” Marcela smiled. “Professional success. Good choice.”

“And you?”

“Amarelo.”

Y/N blinked. “Yellow.”

“Luck,” Marcela said. “What do you think everyone that sees us at the beach on New Year’s Eve are gonna think? They’ll see us jumping into the water and into seven ondas.” Marcela laughed. “Unless they know of Brazilian culture, they won’t understand what’s going on.”

Y/N smiled.

“Let’s confuse them.”

“Going into the ocean at midnight and jumping into seven waves for good luck, is nice.” Y/N wrinkled her nose. “If the water just hadn’t been so cold.”

“And we need to jump into the ice-cold waves head-on.”

“But you can make one wish for each wave.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s been a while since we got to do that, not a lot of ocean in Notts.”

Marcela smiled. “If only we were in Copacabana.”

“I want to watch the fireworks there so baaad!”

“Instead we’re stuck in Newport.”

“Well,” Y/N said, cocking her head to the side as she caressed a tree when they walked past it. “You decided to come here yourself, I was forced. I’m stuck, you can leave.”

Marcela only bumped Y/N’s shoulder with her own, shaking her head at her before she jogged a bit away. Y/N just continued on walking, thinking that her sister had just found a rock or something else that she wanted to pick up, but after a few metres, she was still not back. Turning around, she saw her sister hunched over something further away than she had seen her last, wiping at something on the ground as if to reveal something hidden beneath the layer of leaves and dirt there. Y/N walked over, feeling as if the forest around them had just gone deadly quiet. Marcela stood as Y/N approached, pointing at something on the ground.

A small cellar hatch. Made out of old wood and painted a ghastly brown colour to blend in with the nature around it. In the 10 or so years the Montes family had owned the Newport cabin, never had Y/N stumbled upon this hatch. It looked aged, as if it had been there for way longer than the cabin had. Or maybe it had been made in a hurry and left just like this, with no one to care for it. Y/N looked over at Marcela who was studying the hatch, bending down again to check it out more closely.

“Do you think anyone lives here?” she asked. The question made Y/N feel oddly cold.

“Would hope not. It’s right next to our cabin.”

“Why would it be here otherwise?”

“Dunno.” Y/N looked around them, the forest looked darker now. “Mari, let’s go back.”

“Y/N, we can’t just leave. We need to check this out,” Marcela said, reaching for the metal handle. “I thought you liked exploring.”

“I do, but… this is creepy.”

“No, it’s not.”

Without warning, Marcela opened the hatch, flipping it over so it rested on the other side, leaving the contents of the cellar visible to them both. Y/N took a small step back, but then took one forward again, wanting to be quick to her sister’s aid in case someone or something jumped out at her. But nothing did.

Instead of seeing a cellar exposed to them right under the hatch, a rather narrow and long tunnel straight downwards showed itself to them instead. A metal ladder ran along one of the walls, reaching a long way down, but the destination was left completely in darkness, making it hard to make out anything but the rotting wooden panels around the ladder and the rusting metal of said ladder. Marcela got her phone out, turning on the flashlight and shining it down the tunnel.

“There’s a room down there,” she said, moving closer, squinting down at the cellar.

“Mari, let’s go.”

“Must be here from the second World War or something.”

Y/N looked around, anticipating someone running up on them.

“I’m going down.”

“What-“ Y/N’s head whipped in her sister’s direction, but before she could even try and stop her, Marcela’s feet were on the rusting ladder. “Marcela, what the fuck are you doing?!”

“I just want to see what’s down here.”

“Which is a terrible idea. Get up.”

However, Marcela had never been one to listen to anyone but herself. She merely rolled her eyes at Y/N before she started her descent, keeping her phone in her mouth so it would shine downward and onto whatever she was about to see. Y/N felt herself both worried stupid and curious. She too wanted to know what was down there as well, but her concern for her sister and what she was doing championed over any curiosity she might have felt.

“Mari, I don’t like this,” Y/N called down, sitting on her knees by the cellar opening, not caring that her trousers would get dirty.

Marcela said something, though Y/N could not hear properly through the phone in her sister’s mouth.

“What?!”

Marcela struggled to get her phone out of her mouth, gaze turned downward as she examined the room underneath her. “I’m down!”

“What is it?”

“A shelter room of sorts.” Marcela let go of the ladder, jumping down into the dirt floor. “There’s a bed, some cabinets.”

“Great, you’ve had a peek,” Y/N called down. “Now get up.”

Marcela stood still for a second, turning around 360 degrees to take in the whole room. She suddenly stopped, eyes landing on something at the other end of the room. She walked toward it, disappearing from Y/N’s view.

“Marcela!” Y/N shouted, but Marcela did not reply, not even when she shouted a second time. “Mari, where are you-“

“-Y/N, oh my days,” Marcela groaned. “Chill out.”

“What was I supposed to do?! You disappeared!”

“I was okay,” Marcela said, grinning up at her sister. Y/N could almost just make out her sister’s teeth. “This is the best hiding place by our cabin, I think.”

“Can you get up here now? I think it’s starting to rain.”

“Fine,” Marcela said, putting her phone back in her mouth as she reached for the lowest rung of the ladder. Wrapping her fingers around the rusting metal, she was ready to pull herself up when she yelped. Next thing Y/N knew, metal clanged against the soil of the cellar and Marcela gasped for air, the flashlight of her phone cast at the ground, drenching the cellar in an unremitting darkness.

“Mari?!”

The only thing Y/N heard was Marcela heaving for dry breaths and shuffling, as if she was trying to find her phone on the floor of the cellar. With shaking hands, Y/N reached for her own phone, and though she was unsure of how much her phone would help, she shone her own flashlight down in the cellar. It gave Marcela just enough light to finally find her phone and shine a light around her. The rusty rung had fallen completely off the ladder, now laying somewhere Y/N could not see.

Marcela stood back up, dusting the dirt off her black tights.

“You okay?!” Y/N shouted.

“Fine.”

But she did not sound fine, and she looked worse as she walked up the ladder, finally making it to the surface. Y/N took a grip of her sister’s jacket, helping her out the last metre.

“You’re fucking mad,” Y/N hissed. “Never do that again.”

“Calm down.” Marcela stood up, Y/N joining her not even a second later. “I’m fine.”

“That cellar is old, Marcela, what were you thinking?! It could’ve collapsed, it-“

“-But I’m fine. It didn’t collapse.” Marcela took a grip of Y/N’s shoulders. “I’ve seen that hatch before, but only when I was on walks alone, I didn’t dare open it up and check what was down there without someone here. Now you were, and I didn’t feel so afraid anymore.”

Y/N clenched her teeth, her heart still hammering awfully fast.

“You make me brave, meu docinho de côco.”

My coconut sweet. The pet name made Y/N halt a bit. It had been years since Marcela had called her that. It’s an old-fashioned Brazilian pet name, one Marcela had started calling Y/N when she was just a baby because she had overheard their avó calling someone that, and so she had adopted it herself. They had countless of home movies filmed on rubbish cameras where five-year-old Marcela sat with baby Y/N in her lap, giving her a kiss to the forehead and repeating “meu docinho de côco” over and over again.

“Let’s go back to the cabin,” Marcela said. “Mum is probably angry we haven’t made our beds yet,” Marcela laughed, but Y/N only managed to smile a tine bit. “Aw, Y/N, I’m fine, really,” she assured her. “If I had died down there, I would’ve let you kill me.”

“Good.”

Marcela only laughed before she turned around and closed the hatch.

Friday, 27 April 2018

Y/N didn’t like being in central London. Though there were people everywhere in the capital, there was something about the never-ending crowds of the City of London that made Y/N detest being there. Tourists would walk in and out of shops, clogging up the streets to look at Google Maps on their phones, and not have a single care in the world for those who lived there and just wanted to get to their final destination.

April was definitely not the worst month, there had been and probably would be far worse months with tourists everywhere, but London was a natural and easy weekend trip for anyone living in Europe, and a nice place to visit for anyone else in the world as well, which resulted in it being a busy city at all times. It was not enough that over 12 million lived in or close to the capital, it sometimes felt like there were just as many tourists visiting the city as there were inhabitants. Today, Y/N ended up walking behind a particularly slow group of Dutch people, she recognised it immediately as they spoke, having heard Annalise speak just like them before. Regardless of that, Y/N just wanted to enter a shop without mowing her way through them. It took her a few minutes until she was able to navigate her way around them, by sprinting past them on the street beside them, making it back onto the pavement in time for a double decker to zoom by.

Finally reaching New Look on Gracechurch Street, Y/N walked on inside, feeling in the humid air outside that it was just about to start raining. With Communion playing in her ears and the voice of Olly Alexander singing about being confused about whether to want love or desire from someone, Y/N took a right as she entered the massive New Look, excited to treat herself to some new clothes.

She had been sitting in the Mile End Library on campus all day. The three essays she needed to finish along with revision for her exam in May was all catching up to her, almost making it impossible to fall asleep at night. She would lay awake, thinking about what she had to do the next day, what she should’ve done today, and the five-hundred things that needed to be done at one time or another. It had been a while since she had spent her time overthinking as much as she was right now. Now that almost none of her mates were in London yet, she spent most of her time by herself, either sitting in the library or a café, always doing uni work and always zoning out when she remembered something else she needed to research or another argument to bring up in another one of her essays. She didn’t like studying all by herself in her room. It felt too quiet. She needed people around her, some kind of sounds, even if that was just a student coughing a few tables down from hers. Even though she was by herself in the flat, at least she wasn’t completely by herself all the time.

Her thinking about uni hadn’t been the only reason it had been hard for her to sleep at night. Even though part of her detested herself for it, she still felt relieved at the thought of Harry arriving later that day. Finally she wouldn’t be alone in the flat, someone else was there with her. Even though she had heard their neighbours talking and moving around in their own flats before, she always woke up or stopped whatever she was doing at the smallest sound, even though part of her knew it was just one of their neighbours. She had never slept in a house completely by herself before. Whenever her parents were away, Marcela would come stay with her, and if she couldn’t, then Nathan would sleep over. Y/N had never been so alone like she was now ever before. It scared her.

Even though she knew nothing would actually happen to her, she knew how to throw a punch and knee someone in the groin so it hurt a little extra, it still felt good knowing Harry would be there now.

Suddenly, she stumbled upon something that had her stopping rather abruptly. A white tee shirt with a black X on it, a pink dragon slithering its way in and around the letter. Y/N absolutely loved it. She could see it going super well with her black pleated skirt, some fishnets, and her Docs. She took it off the rack, studying it a bit closer, she turned the head and hung it over the rack again, pulling it out to check the size of it. It was rather small. She checked the sizing, seeing that it was a medium. Putting it back properly on the rack, Y/N started filtering through the different tee shirts, trying to find one large or X large. After all, she could not deal with it being a slim fit. But she found nothing, they only had it in 2X small, X small, or medium.

“Excuse me,” she said, walking up to someone who looked like they worked in New Look. The employee smiled at Y/N as she approached. “Do you by any chance have this one in extra-large?”

“I’ll go check,” the employee said, walking off rather quickly so she could check and get back as quickly as possible. A few minutes later, Y/N still stood where the employee had left her, but she came back, a little out of breath, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, we only have it in large or anything under, not extra-large.”

Y/N felt her heart sink, she smiled at the employee anyway. “Thank you for checking.”

“No problem,” she smiled back. “Also… uhm-“ She pointed over her shoulder at the escalator. “-If you’re looking for plus sized items, they’ll be upstairs. We don’t have many extra-large alternatives downstairs.”

Not only had Y/N’s heart sunk to the very bottom of her stomach, now it had just fallen out of her arse and down to the bottom of the universe. Telling herself that the employee only meant well, Y/N nodded, thanking her, and put the tee shirt back on the rack. She walked to the escalator, taking it up and looking at the board for the overview of the different sections of the store. Downstairs was woman’s clothing, first storey was more women’s clothing, men’s clothing, and plus size, while the second storey was shoes, accessories, and changing rooms. That put Y/N off. How come there were more shoes and accessories being offered than plus sized clothing?

She started walking around the first storey, looking for the plus size section. It took a while for her to find it, but when she finally located it, she understood why and didn’t understand at the same time. The section was just as big, if not smaller, than the men’s clothing section, and how could she have not seen it when all the clothes looked the same? Everything looked at something her 50-year-old mother would wear, and though some of the items would look cute on her mother, nothing stood out to Y/N. None of the items were cute. In fact, they rather looked like bin bags with a bit of cleavage and zero tailoring to accentuate a woman’s figure. It just looked like clothes for the sake of wearing clothes, nothing that would stand out in a crowd or make the wearer look cute.

Y/N found a blouse that she was sure her mother would have loved, burgundy with blue flowers on it. However, she stopped dead in her tracks as she saw what was written at the very top of the blouse. Maternity. Quickly, Y/N put it back, looking around her to see if the maternity section was anywhere close to the plus size one. However, upon closer inspection, she realised that the maternity section was just combined with the plus size section. There was no difference. After all, it was all just bigger clothes. Plus size, maternity; did it matter.

Balling her hands into fists, Y/N left the store. She willed herself not to cry, not to lose it, until she reached a less crowded area. As she walked, it was hard for her to formulate how she was feeling. It was hard to put words to what she was going through. Even though she could’ve taken the tube or the bus, Y/N walked home. And in the 40 minutes it took her to reach the flat, she had not come to a conclusion to understand why she was so sad. The words were there, she could read them and see them, but as soon as she reached for them, to admit them to herself and to fully grasp them, they evaporated into grey vapour. She could not say it.

Sunday, 29 April 2018

“You’ve been quiet.”

Y/N tore her eyes away from the raindrops racing down one another on the window beside her. She glanced at Harry behind the steering wheel, his eyes on the road ahead of him, but he must have looked at her to understand that something was wrong. Or… well, he didn’t really have to. Y/N liked to talk, if she was quiet, then something was most likely wrong.

“Have I?” she asked, looking at her hands resting in her lap.

“Yeah, you alright?”

“No, I…” Y/N bit her lips together, feeling something in her throat clog up, as if the words refused to leave her mouth. She didn’t know what those words would even be if she were to speak them. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what’s wrong?”

She leaned her head back against the headrest. “Still working on it.”

“Alright,” Harry said, shifting his grip on the wheel. “Wanna talk? To get your mind off whatever’s bothering you?”

Y/N could feel herself smiling a tad at that. “Yeah.”

“I got the dagger tattoo.”

She looked at Harry. “You did?”

“Yeah, did some of it myself, but some angles were hard to do properly, so Wes helped me out.”

If Harry had only told Y/N earlier, he could have shown her the tattoo while they were still at the flat. Now, instead, they were in Harry’s car, driving down a tiny road that led to the cabin on the outskirts of Newport, Wales. They had been quiet most of the way, Y/N suspected Harry had given her silence so she could think. After all, they were going back to the cabin where her sister had been murdered, if she wanted to stay silent and reflect upon that then she should be allowed to. So, Harry let her be, only occasionally asking questions and making conversation, but for the most part, he just kept quiet, thinking and knowing that was what she really needed.

“You’ll have to show me later,” she said, smiling over at him.

Harry kept his eyes on the road as it went from gravel to dirt, making the drive bumpier than it already had been. Those same big trees rose above them that Y/N remembered from her childhood, keeping the best hiding places and all the world’s secrets. Leaves occupied the trees now working like an impenetrable roof for the forest floor beneath, which explained why the grounds were so brown and not a lush green colour.

“Down here,” Y/N said, her voice sounding faraway. Distant, even.

Harry must have noticed too, but he did not say anything, instead keeping his eyes on the road as it grew narrower. It did not even take a minute for the wooden cabin to show itself. An old Swedish couple had built it in the late 1980s, making it look very Scandinavian and half finished with its brown colour and small square windows. Y/N had not brought a key, knowing that she did not have the guts to enter the cabin just yet. She just needed a look, just needed to check something.

Harry cut the engine as they reached the parking spot Y/N’s papai always used. It was less of a marked-up parking spot and more of a convenient place to park your car. The ground showed of where a car had once stood many times over, and so Harry did the same as Y/N’s papai did. The window into the living room was just to Y/N’s left, and though you could barely make anything out without coming up close to look through it, she kept her eyes trained on the forest in front of her, not daring to even look in the direction of the cabin.

She closed her eyes, finding something that could resemble courage, and let it take over her. As long as she just did this without thinking too much, then she could get through it. She could reflect on what had just happened at a later time. Now, she just needed to get out of the car, and do what she came here to do.

She opened the car door and stepped outside, walking away from the cabin right away to create as much distance between her and the darkest place on planet Earth. Y/N heard her panicked breathing, and realised that if she looked at the cabin one more time, then that courage she had found bottled up inside her would not be enough to keep her on her feet when a panic attack came over her. She heard footsteps behind her and felt Harry’s presence at her side seconds later, his hands in his coat pocket as he looked up at the grey sky above them. It had been hot enough for them to wear tee shirts only yesterday, but now they had to wear jackets in order not to freeze. That was the weather in the United Kingdom for you in a nutshell.

“You alright?” Harry asked, his voice reassuring, but the hand he put at her back eased her more.

She nodded her head.

Harry looked around them at the dark forest that stretched out in all different kinds of directions, then scanning the sky above again. “This looks just as creepy as I would’ve imagined.”

Y/N swallowed, closing her eyes as she tried to calm her racing heart. The mere fact that the cabin was behind her made her want to throw up right then and there. “You think?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “You loved it here when you were little?”

“I did. It was a safe haven,” Y/N explained, opening her eyes again, facing the exact part of the forest that she wanted to walk down. “It wasn’t this dark before.”

Harry only looked at her, but the next second, Y/N walked away from the cabin, continuing down the path her sister had taken her all those years ago. Harry followed suit, studying the woods around them the trees they walked by, the thick layer of green leaves above them. A crease appeared between his brows, indicating that he was incredibly uncomfortable being here. Somehow, that comforted Y/N.

The two of them walked for a few minutes, Harry not once asking where they were headed or what Y/N wanted to do out here in the forest, only following and trusting that she knew what she was doing. These woods had been her playground when she was little, she knew parts of them as well as she knew the inside of her room home in Nottingham.

Finally, they reached what Y/N had wanted to come to Newport for. When she stopped and bent down, Harry almost fell over his own feet, for some reason not having seen this one coming. He only watched as she dusted dried and dead leaves off the forest floor, revealing the old and wooden hatch. Touching the handle felt strange, as if she were touching part of history. She slowly opened the hatch, revealing the ladder beyond and the darkness of the cellar. Seeing it again brought back the memory of her and Marcela being her together all those years ago, of seeing her sister lose grip of the last rung. Hearing her meet the floor of the cellar with a thud.

Y/N reached for the phone in her pocket, bringing it out and getting her flashlight out, pointing it down at the pitch-black hole. It was just as she remembered.

“What’s that?” Harry asked, taking a careful step towards the hole to get a closer look.

“A cellar of sorts,” Y/N said. “My sister once told me this was the best hiding place near our cabin.”

Harry glanced at Y/N then, knowing what was happening next. Y/N put her phone in her mouth like her sister had done, and then let her feet dangle off the edge of the hole. She gripped the topmost step and planted her feet on one further down.

“Y/N, that’s pure fucking madness,” Harry said. “Get up.”

She took her phone out of her mouth. “Harry, I need to check to see what’s down there. It might be nothing, but this has eaten me alive recently. I need to check.”

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, but let me go down there first.”

Y/N blinked. However, she did not protest, merely removed her feet from where they were already firmly placed on a step, and let Harry get his own phone out.

“Fuck, it’s dark,” Harry mumbled as he shone a light down in the cellar. “Have you been down there before?”

“No,” Y/N said. “But Marcela has. I suspect she’s been there multiple times.”

“Did the police ever find this place?”

Y/N thought for a second before she raised a shoulder in a shrug. “Dunno. I’ll have to ask mum and pai.”

Harry nodded, putting his phone in his mouth like she had just done. He sat down by the hole and took a grip of the ladder, a curl falling into his forehead as he started on his descent. Y/N watched him as he climbed all the way down, jumping off the ladder and onto the cellar floor with ease. He looked around, scanning the room slowly with his flashlight while Y/N sat by the top, watching like she had watched Marcela.

“The last steps are gone,” Harry called up.

“I know,” Y/N called back before putting her phone in her mouth, telling herself to just fucking do this. She had to do this. For Marcela. Y/N gripped the ladder and started climbing down like she had just watched Harry do, like she had watched Marcela do four years ago. The ladder felt old and rusty under her fingers, making her entire body tense up. She was ready to fall to her death any second, to be the sole reason why her and Harry starved to death in a cellar no one but them knew existed.

Finally, with sweat dotting her forehead and cupid’s bow, she reached the last whole step. But as she was about to put her foot there, she met nothing put air. She squealed a little, holding a little tighter onto the ladder with her hands and other foot.

“Oi,” Harry said, moving closer and putting a hand up. “Easy. I told you the last few steps had fallen off.”

Y/N furrowed her brows.

“Just jump, I’m here,” he said, voice so reassuring and warm that everything felt okay for a single second.

She did as he said, jumping from where she stood. Her feet hit the ground a little to hard, making her wince, but Harry was right there, one hand gripping her arm while the other arm snaked around her waist, holding her upright.

“There we go,” he mumbled, only just then realising that his phone’s flashlight was shining into Y/N’s jacket, making it harder to see the cellar. He took a small step away, letting her regain her footing as she glanced around. It was emptier than she thought it was. A simple wooden bed stood there, but no mattress occupied it, and some cupboards were on the other side of the tiny cellar, though some of the doors hung off their hinges, others looked fine, and some were removed. The walls and floor consisted of compact dirt, and the whole place smelled of rusted iron. Y/N hated it.

“Cosy place, innit,” Harry said, sounding like he meant the quite opposite. “Throw in a disco ball and you could host a rave.”

Y/N almost chuckled, but then her eyes landed on something on the floor beside some of the cupboards. A blue dog bowl. Whether it had been used for water or food, Y/N did not know, but it looked very out of place in such an old and dirty cellar. It had some dirt on it, probably having fallen from the ceiling and down into it over time, but the rather modern, blue dog bowl looked completely out of place. Y/N was certain this had not been here when Marcela was down there, or she would have told Y/N about it right away, even picked it up to show her.

What kind of sick human being had left a dog down in this cellar to die? Though it was dirty, the bowl did not seem to have been used. Maybe the dog had been given a last bowl of water before the owner just left it there to rot.

“What’s that doing here?” Harry asked, looking at the bowl over Y/N’s shoulder. He took it from her hands to examine it further, turning it over in his hand. “Strathy.”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“Strathy.” He turned the bowl, showing Y/N the name that was written on it in neat handwriting. “The dog’s name.”

“Strathy,” she mumbled under her breath, feeling an immense sort of sadness take over her. She might not like animals much, but even she saw how wrong this was.

Harry grimaced, clearly feeling absolutely disgusted with this as well. After all, his dad took care of dogs at a dog hotel in Buckinghamshire. He had a rather special bond with the animal, Y/N supposed.

“Who just leaves a dog bowl down here?” she asked aloud, not expecting Harry to answer.

He frowned at it, giving it back to her so she could look at it. “Doesn’t make sense.”

Y/N turned around, looking at the ladder. And it was as Harry had said, the last two steps were gone, laying in pieces on the floor beneath the hole. “No, it doesn’t.”

Harry glanced over at where Y/N was looking, furrowing his brows. “Your sister said this was the best hiding place by your cabin?”

“Yeah, in December before the year she was killed,” Y/N said. “No one would find you if you hid here.”

Harry looked at Y/N as she looked at him. “Then why did someone else, someone who clearly came here after you and your sister did in December, know about this cellar?”

Y/N felt sick. “They must have known the grounds pretty well to know this was here.”

Harry only nodded, eyes falling to the dog bowl in Y/N’s hand. She glanced at the ladder again, feeling confused and furious at the same time. Who had been here after her and her sister had?

Wednesday, 2 May 2018

Even though Y/N’s door was open, Harry still knocked on the doorframe, looking in through the small slit in the door to check if it was alright with her if he entered.

“Disturbing my peace and quiet,” she said jokingly, putting a few folded tops in her suitcase to bring with her home for the summer.

“Thought you would appreciate the sight of the biggest hunk on the British Isles,” Harry grinned, opening the door and leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. “Give you some inspiration. Some motivation, even.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, Harry chuckling at the sigh as she put some more clothes in her suitcase. The room fell back into silence as Harry gave her some breathing space, obviously thinking that she did not appreciate him blocking her in any way when she was packing. She was not packing her entire room, after all she was coming back in September, but most of her clothes were in London and she wanted to take them home with her so she could wear them there. They were of no use just laying in her dresser in Hackney.

“How’d the exam go?” Harry asked.

She looked up at him, taking in his simple outfit. A loose buttoned-up shirt in a nice cream colour was tucked into dark brown trousers, his feet bare and his skin already glowing with an oncoming tan. So, he had spent most of the day outside. The tan would look nice against his tattoos. Y/N’s eyes fell to Harry’s tattoos, the ones on his knuckles in Greek that she still did not know the meaning behind, and then the barbed wire, making him look more badass than Y/N knew him to be. He now had a fern just below the dagger he had taken in April and a leaf on his pinky finger just below the barbed wire. At this rate, Harry would be covered in tattoos by the end of the year.

“New ink,” Y/N noted.

The right side of his lips tipped upward as he looked down at his arms and hands. “Yes.”

“You’re just taking advantage of the fact that you know how to use a tattoo gun.”

Harry chuckled. “Someone should take it away from me.”

“Truly.”

“I’m scared that I’ll, like, come up with cooler tattoo ideas later on, but then I’ve already filled up the spot where it’d look best.”

Y/N tilted her head at him. “Then you should slow down the tattooing.”

“Nah, can’t do that, love.”

She only rolled her eyes again, sitting down on top of the suitcase so she could close it and pull the zipper shut properly.

“You didn’t answer me earlier,” Harry asked, walking inside and sitting down on Y/N’s bed. “How’d your exam go?”

Y/N sighed, resting her chin in her hand as she glanced over at him. “Alright. We had an hour to, like, answer the two questions, one short answer and then a short essay. I was about halfway through my essay when I realised I only had ten minutes left.”

Harry grimaced.

“So, I just had to write until my wrist and hand ached, and was about to start writing the conclusion when we had to hand the papers over. I think Isla wrote way more than I did, dunno how she managed that.”

“How many pages did you get in?”

“About 12.”

Harry just stared at her. “And Isla got more down?”

“I think closer to 20.”

“20 handwritten pages in an hour?!” Harry said, sounding absolutely bewildered.

“She’s a machine that one.”

“Obviously.”

Y/N nodded, getting up from her suitcase and walking across her bed to get to the windows. She closed them both firmly, pulling the white heart pointelle cami top further down her torso, though it was supposed to just reach her belly button. Thankfully, her black tights reached just a little bit further up, keeping any more of Y/N’s skin to be exposed than what she wanted.

“Okay,” she said, sitting down beside him in bed again. “I want to be sure you’ve actually gotten better.”

“Understandable,” Harry retorted, nodding slightly.

“So, I don’t want to do too much just yet.”

He stopped for a second. “What does that mean?”

“That I want to just make out and get a feel of where you’re at. I think sex comes when we’re both turning each other on to the point where it’s actually going to be enjoyable. When I’m wet enough and you’re hard enough.”

Harry tried not to smile, but Y/N could tell he wanted to flash her a smirk. “I can assure you, you can make me do anything, and I’d be hard on the fucking spot.”

Y/N’s chest felt warm, and within seconds, her cheeks were approximately around the same temperature as the sun’s surface. There was something so very sweet about that, yet incredibly hot. She looked away from him, trying to act unbothered as she tried to find her words again, but by the slight chuckle emanating from Harry’s lips, Y/N knew he saw right through her act.

“What I’m trying to say is that I just want us to get familiar with the other’s body. Foreplay isn’t just about touching someone; it’s about touching someone. Feel their crotch, slide your hand under their clothes, grinding against them to the point of torture sometimes. That’s when the best sex happens.”

Harry nodded. “Take it you’re a big fan of foreplay.”

“The biggest.”

“Feel like I’m in good hands, then.”

“Figuratively and literally.”

He smiled.

“If you matched me on Tinder, and we were about to shag-“

“-I actually don’t think I’ve ever been on Tinder.”

Y/N blinked. “That’s not a flex.”

“Have you?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’ve got the app on my phone.”

“Wicked, you’ve got to show me then.”

She smiled, inhaling slowly. “I will. But first, let’s-“

However, fantastically, Harry took Y/N’s face in his hands and brought her to him. Before Y/N managed to finish her statement, they were kissing. The familiar feeling of Harry’s lips on hers made her previously tense shoulders relax considerably, making her involuntarily moan onto his lips. Harry kissed her more fiercely at the sound, moving closer so it would be easier for him to wrap his arms around her. She fell back onto the bed, crawling backward, and Harry crawled after her, settling himself so easily between her legs that it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

The ease at which they were doing this felt reassuring, like a good hug after a stressful day. She trusted that Harry knew what he was supposed to do, that he remembered from last time. And oh, did he remember.

She felt his hand slide down her front, laying the smallest amount of pressure on her breast, and Y/N realised with a suddenness that almost made her gasp; Harry was trying to tease her. His fingers slid over her, never laying his entire palm down against besides that grip of her boob, but besides that, he was touching her as lightly as possible, leaving Y/N’s body aching in its waking.

“Where’d you learn that?” she asked between kisses.

“What?”

“The teasing.”

She felt him grin against her. “Do you really want me to tell you?”

“Surprisingly enough.”

He chuckled. “Well,” he trailed off, looking down at the duvet beside her face. “The internet.”

Y/N felt herself halt a bit, looking at Harry as he refused to still meet her eyes. “You’ve been searching around?”

“About sex, yes.”

The corners of her mouth lifted. “Really?”

“How many times do you want me to admit it?”

She giggled. “Harry, it’s not something to be embarrassed about.”

“I think it is.”

“No, it just shows how dedicated you are to this. Which is anything but embarrassing.” She tried to catch his eyes. “It’s actually rather sweet.”

He met her gaze then, staring at her for a long while as if he could not quite believe what she had just told him. “You think?”

“You think I would’ve said it if I thought otherwise?”

Harry chuckled. “True.”

She smiled, arching her back a little so her tits were pressed against his chest. Harry bit his bottom lip, looking down at her front as she lowered herself down onto the mattress again. Raising her eyebrows, she watched as Harry took in her tits again, looking over at her with anticipation etched into his irises.

“I’m trying to silently tell you to kiss me again,” she said.

“Oh!” Harry exclaimed, bending down over her again. “Right.”

“Other’s might not do that, they might tell you, or maybe even expect you to do so. So, try and decipher what that person needs, what they want.” She settled herself into her duvet cover, Harry sinking further in between her legs as she wriggled her hips ever so slightly. His lips parted, both plump and swollen from kissing.

“What do I do if they don’t say anything?” Harry asked, lips hovering above hers. God, how she just wanted him to kiss her.

“Communicate. You can’t expect someone to know you and your needs right off the bat, people are different.”

“Right,” Harry said, sliding his nose against hers.

“And now I would really like it if you kissed me,” Y/N whispered against Harry’s lips, making Harry grip onto the duvet cover above Y/N’s head. Fiercely, he pressed his lips against her, slowly sliding his tongue into her mouth, making all kinds of shivers run up and down her body. Even after just one time, Harry knew certain buttons of hers that he had to push in order to get a reaction out of her. She wondered how long Harry had gone out with his previous partners for them to give up on him so quickly. If they had just shown him what they liked, if they had just explored, then Harry would have been a decent lover. He was so incredibly willing to learn new things that it was almost ridiculous. How had they just broken things off like that? If they had just been a little more patient, then Harry would have genuinely surprised them.

On the other hand, he had not actually showed her how bad he was in bed, like he was making it out to be, which could truly be the game changer.

Regardless, in that second, Y/N did not care about Harry’s skills in bed, instead she focused on how they worked outside the context of sex. They were just making out now, just checking each other out, trying to think about various ways to touch the other in order to turn them on.

One of Harry’s hands rested at Y/N’s knee, bringing it further up her chest so he could get a bit better access. She moaned as she felt his already hardening erection against her, instant wetness pooling between her legs. Her grip on his shirt tightened and she felt her nails dig into his skin under his shirt, urging him to continue doing what he was doing. Just like she had shown him last time, Harry grinded against her, doing it slowly and rubbing himself very deliberately against her for his own pleasure, but also trying to make sure she enjoyed it. The desire that ran up her spine was undeniable, making all hair on her body stand on end. His hardness grinded against her wetness again, the both of them moaning at the same time, losing themselves completely in one another.

Harry’s hand ran down Y/N’s thigh, coming to rest at her belly, slowly making its way to her very centre. She felt a yearning so intense it had to radiate off of her, engulfing her and Harry. Halting a bit, Harry’s fingers seemed to retract a bit, unsure if this was somewhere Y/N did not want him to venture or it if was encouraged. Instead of asking her, like she emboldened him to do multiple times, he traced the same path back up her belly, going to grab her breast again.

Y/N made a noise of protest, taking Harry’s wrist in her hand. She could feel Harry’s eyelashes flutter open against her own, and she opened her own eyes, detaching their lips. Slowly, she slid his hand down the way it had just come, making him lay as little pressure on her as he slid his hand down in order to tease as much as possible. Personally, she hated when someone would tease her because it only made her want sex even more than she already did, making her hungrier and more desperate than she would like, but it also made for the best shags. Teasing and dragging out, being needy for one another, was what created the best action when you finally had sex.

As they were just above her centre, she led his hand to her inner thigh, urging his fingers to trace along the skin of one of her most delicate places. Harry looked down between them, eager to follow along with what she did in any way he could. With care and maybe a little too much roughness, she made him grab her, at once showing how he would cherish her but at the same time make her squirm for more when the time came. Though Y/N was doing it herself, it was Harry’s hand that touched her, that made her entire body vibrate with expectancy. She bit her bottom lip, eyes not wavering from his face.

Slowly, his pinky came into contact with her centre, then his ring finger, middle, index, and lastly, his thumb. Each felt like a firework, reverberating through Y/N’s body and lighting her core on fire. It had been a while since someone had touched her with so much consideration, so patiently. Harry’s eagerness to please her, even though she was the one that showed him how to touch her, made her even hotter for him, if that was possible. With ease, she put her hand over his, putting extra pressure on his hand now and a little extra on his middle finger, she dragged his hand over her covered up cunt. A small gasp left her lips, eyelashes fluttering slightly. Harry looked up at her instantly, lips parting as his eyes scanned her face, ready to take in each one of her features when she laid under him like this. She did it again, this time putting a little more pressure at the very top of her centre, making a spark flood from her clit and out to the very tips of her fingers. This made her moan, involuntarily arching her back just a little at the sudden flash.

“Now you go,” she whispered, their eyes not wavering from one another.

Harry nodded, looking down between them at where his hand rested in her like that and then her removing his hand, letting him either mimic her moves or do something different. He watched his hand at first as it slid over her, putting that extra amount of pressure at her bud, making her gasp for breath. His eyes landed on her face again, eyes intent on her as he did it again, this time inhaling sharply as she moaned under him, of his doing.

“Just like that,” she encouraged, voice half moan and half mumble.

Harry did it again, earning the same reaction from her, his breath coming out all shaky, as if he could not quite believe he had this effect on her.

“You look bewildered,” Y/N said, trying not to laugh.

“I always thought that touching someone like that would be a little much too soon. Would you not rather I touched your cunt when we’re naked and about to have sex?”

“Yes, of course,” Y/N said, regaining her breath. “But you’re showing me what you’ll do to me when we actually get naked. Teasing can be pure torture, but it’s what makes the reward so much better when we actually fuck.”

Harry nodded, his already red cheeks reddening considerably. “Alright.”

Y/N smiled. “What?”

“I guess I… I’m not used to being…” Harry sighed, looking away from her and at his hand fisted in the sheets. “It’s vulgar.”

“What?” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Touching me?”

“No, touching like that. Grabbing someone through their clothes, touching your cunt like that.”

Y/N smiled again. “I can tell by the way you’re whispering the word that you’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable, it’s just a new way of having sex, I guess.” Harry blinked. “Also, what word do I whisper?”

“Cunt.”

“Oh.” Harry met her eyes again. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“It’s… vulgar.”

“It’s dirty,” Y/N said. “Not my cunt,-“ Harry laughed at that. “-but the word. Saying it, especially in this setting, is hot.”

“You like dirty talk?”

“When it’s done right. When it’s not, it can really ruin whatever’s going on.”

“Oh, right,” Harry said, nodding slightly. “There’s a balance.”

“Exactly,” Y/N smiled. “Annalise told me about this time she had sex with an American, like proper southern American.”

Harry chuckled a little at just that.

“And they were in doggy, so she asked him to grab her hair, and-“

“-Do you like that?” Harry asked rather quickly, as if the question had occurred to him on the spot and he had been unable to stop himself from asking.

“What, having my hair pulled?”

Harry nodded.

“Dunno, haven’t really tried it.”

Harry smirked, and Y/N could already see what he was thinking. She only rolled her eyes and continued on with the story, the bulge of Harry’s trousers pressing against Y/N’s centre.

“Anyway, she asked him to pull her hair, and if you, like, grab it with one hand, that’s hot and feels good, but if you grab it with two, if feels more like you’re trying to ride a horse.”

Harry chuckled.

“And while this man was holding Annalise’s hair with both hands, he just said ‘Easy, girl’ and this southern accent, and it sounded fully like he was trying to calm a horse down.” Y/N suspected that Harry was laughing more at Y/N’s attempt at a southern American accent than the actual story, but seeing him howling on top of her, burying his face in her neck to laugh some more there, made it impossible for her to even finish the story. They laid like that for a little while, just laughing and bathing in each other’s presence. It took a while for them to look at one another again, smiling when they remembered how ridiculous Y/N had sounded and how this all happened in the middle of a rather heated moment.

“Okay, let’s move on,” she said, making Harry chuckle some more.

“Right, what’s next?”

Y/N pushed him off her and down onto the bed beside her, quickly straddling him. She leaned down, kissing him hard, having missed the feel of his lips in the few seconds they hadn’t been touching hers. Harry’s hands fell to her bum, pushing her down onto his hard cock, Y/N instantly reacting by letting go of a small groan. He knew what to do now, how to handle her with care, but also make sure to let her know who was in control. Well, kind of, anyway. She was certainly the one with the most control out of the two of them.

She started grinding against him, sliding her hot core over his erection, a shock of pleasure running up to her chest, heating up her entire body. Harry must have felt something similar because he moaned into her mouth, his grip on her arse hardening along with his cock. She did just that again and again, feeling him become more desperate under her, grabbing onto her thighs and arse, one hand holding onto her neck to keep her lips on him. She felt herself get more needy as well, suddenly wanting to feel that release she had told the both of them that they would not be chasing today. However, when she was this wet and he was this hard, both of them clawing, gripping, and moaning at each other, it was very hard to remember what they had agreed upon earlier.

“Do you want to be in control?” she mumbled against his lips, a shaky breath leaving Harry’s lips.

“Show me how,” he said, panting just like she was.

She took his hands, putting them above Harry’s head. “Keep them there,” she said. “Don’t move.”

“What happens if I do?”

“I’ll have to punish you.”

A breath left Harry’s lips; his eyes filled with lust as he looked up at her. He only nodded, looking absolutely entranced by her. Y/N pressed a kiss to Harry’s jaw, then another one to his neck, then the front of his collarbone, feeling him squirm beneath her as she did. The need to have his hands on her, to make her grind against him to feel something, was clearly an instinct that was hard for him to fight.

“Lay still,” she urged him as her hands found the collar of his shirt, fingers sliding over his exposed skin until they came into contact with the button that kept his beautiful chest from being bare.

Slowly, she unbuttoned his shirt. She kissed down his now exposed chest, making her way down his torso until she was by his navel. Untucking the shirt, she undid the last button before pushing the fabric to each side, baring his chest to her. The red dragon on his right back and the black on his left were finally right there. The tattoos she had been thinking about for so long now, finally right in front of her. She made her way up to them, tracing her finger from the head of the red dragon that almost reached Harry’s collarbone and down in a circle and some waves before reaching the tail that ended up right beside his nipple. The black one did only slither to create one wave along its long and slim figure, but its wings were bigger, almost reaching Harry’s left shoulder, while the pointy tail came to rest just beside his nipple. Y/N could not explain how attractive she found his tattoos, especially these ones. Harry must have the exact same taste in tattoos as her, something that made her very happy about their little deal.

When she settled over his crotch again, his erection was even more prominent than before, the hardness feeling absolutely fantastic against her warm cunt. She put her hands on his knees behind her, slowly beginning to grind against Harry again. He craned his neck, lips parting as some slight release washed over the both of them. Dutifully, his hands still laid above his head where she had left them, where she hard ordered him to keep them. The sight of him displayed like that, all hers and trembling underneath her while she teased him, was maybe one of the hottest sights she had ever laid her eyes upon.

He looked up at her, eyes wild and bottom lip all dark pink from him having bitten it so hard while she had kissed her way down his chest. Their eyes locked, and Y/N could tell Harry wanted to grab her, to hold her to some extent. She recognised now that Harry liked holding her when they were like this. If they were getting things going, it seemed out of the question if he was not touching her to some extent.

Which must have been why he finally snapped, sitting up and taking a grip of her waist. Y/N exhaled sharply when Harry turned them around, making her back come into contact with the mattress again. Harry held onto her knee again before letting his hand trail up her side, the other one taking her hand in his, resting their intwined fingers above Y/N’s head as they started kissing again. Finally between her legs again, Harry started sliding over her again, this time his movements had a little more force behind them. She felt it in her toes, the heat in her core growing with each stroke. Bloody hell, she just wanted to fuck him right then. Harry had truly proven to her that he knew how foreplay worked, how incredibly important it was. Though he was the most impatient person she knew, he truly seemed to be enjoying himself when they teased each other like this.

Maybe, like her, he enjoyed the power it brought. You truly felt so powerful, so potent, so paramount, when you could make someone tremble at your touch.

Harry’s movements grew more frantic, his hands grabbing at her harder, and she felt her own nails dig into his flesh, begging him for more. Suddenly, without much warning, Harry got up from between her legs, and then made her turn over so she was on her stomach. This took Y/N completely off guard, but she welcomed the change, welcomed him trying something new and taking control. After all, that was what he wanted to learn how to do, how to become confident enough to order someone around in bed without thinking he was disrespecting them and their bodies.

Harry came to rest on top of her, his hand sliding from the rolls at her sides and up to her shoulder where he slowly traced his way to her neck. There, he took a light grip of her, bending down so that they could both feel his erection between her arse cheeks. Y/N closed her eyes at the sensation, feeling a very welcome chill run up her spine out of pure excitement. He stayed there, kissing her shoulder, her neck, breathing against her skin and making Y/N hyper aware of each one of his movements.

Because he remained immobile, she arched her back and lifted her bum ever so slightly off the bed. She pushed herself against him, then move her arse against him, wanting to feel some kind of friction even though it was barely existent on her part. Harry drew in a sharp breath and moaned instantly, holding onto Y/N’s neck with one hand while the other held him upright on the mattress. She continued to move over him and Harry grinded against her. Harry’s breaths came out quicker, slight whimpers leaving his swollen lips, vibrating against Y/N’s skin. It had certainly not been the point, but as Y/N understood what was going to happen, she just continued to rub herself against him, and Harry did the same.

His grip on her loosened and he put his hands on either side of her hips, moaning and panting and whimpering as he grinded against her. Suddenly, he jerked, and he gripped Y/N’s hips tight, trying to move against her, but he only managed to move in jagged motions. He came as Y/N slid her bum over him, feeling his cock move with each squirt inside his boxer, pulsating against the fabric; against her. Harry stayed like that over Y/N, and when she looked over her shoulder, it looked like he did not know what has just happened. After all, they weren’t supposed to do anything, really. They were just supposed to make out. And yet…

“In an ideal situation,” Y/N said. “You start having sex before that happens.”

Harry met her eyes, laughing loudly along with her. He fell down onto the bed beside her and she turned to lay on her back as well, both just looking up at the ceiling of Y/N’s bedroom.

“Note to self,” Harry said, still coming down from what had just happened, panting slightly. “Don’t come during foreplay.”

Y/N laughed, and Harry looked at her with the biggest grin on his face. “Add that to the list of everything else I’ve taught you, and you’ll be good for when we have sex.”

Harry chuckled, looking up at the ceiling again. “Tattoo appointment when we get back in September, then?”

She nodded, sitting up in bed. “Yeah, it’ll give me enough time to think about what I want tattooed.”

Harry sat up as well. “Imagine I’ll have a few more tattoos as well.”

“You’ll be working at Asgard this summer?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “I’ll just either live here or at my mum’s, visit my dad a bit.” He shrugged. “But I have a tattoo gun so I’ll just do it at home, don’t need to be there unless I want some ink a place I can’t reach properly myself.”

Y/N’s heart stopped a little. “You have a tattoo machine here?”

Harry studied her face, a small grin appearing over his face. “Yeah. Your fanny fluttering at the thought?”

She slapped him across his still exposed chest; Harry laughed. “You know what, just leave. I need to finish packing.”

Harry grinned, getting up from the bed as he started buttoning up his shirt again, looking around Y/N’s room as he made his way for the door. “Will you miss London while you’re away?”

Y/N glanced around at her room, taking in the four walls she had spent so much time within during her first year of University. It did not seem real that she would be in Nottingham over the next four months, that she would go back to living with her parents for the time being until uni started back up again in September. Her first year had gone by so quickly, it did not seem real that it was coming to a close. She could not believe that it had almost been a year since she moved to London, since she med Chloe, Thian, Hayden, and Annalise, since she started working at Domino’s. It at once felt like ages ago, yet it also felt like it all happened last month. She remembered everything in vivid detail, and knew she would probably remember her uni years that clearly for eternity. So far, it had been the best time of her life.

She nodded her head, looking back over at Harry again. “I’ll miss it. But I’ll be back in September to pester you another year.”

Harry grinned. “Good, almost thought you would stop bullying me by the time we get back.”

“No, don’t you worry,” she said, smiling. “The bullying won’t stop for the world.”

Harry tucked his hands into his trouser pockets, whipping a curl out of his face as he said, “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Friday, 17 May 2018

“Happy birthday!” Hayden screamed when Y/N answered their FaceTime call, their hands over their head and their short hair an absolute mess. They dropped their phone onto their bed, only to appear a second later with a red party hat on their head, waving it in front of the camera.

Y/N laughed. “Thanks, mate.”

“What’re you up to today?” Hayden asked, leaning back against their headrest.

“Well, since I’ve already been awake three hours, I have been up to quite a lot, actually.”

It was Hayden’s turn to laugh now. “What’s that then?”

“Pai and I made some pão na chapa, which is essentially skillet toasted French bread rolls, for breakfast, nothing extravagant. Then we went to pick up a cake that mum’s had made for the occasion, and then mum took me shopping for some new clothes. Just got home,” Y/N explained. “But we’re having a big lunch later with our entire family and we’ll serve a big dinner then.”

“Sounds like a very you birthday.”

“Good thing it’s my birthday, then.”

Hayden laughed, leaning their head back against the wall and forgetting about their birthday hat, making the string snap off their chin and the hat fall off their head. Y/N chuckled as she sat down in her bed as well, looking over at her window to see if it was closed or not. Her papai must have opened it while her and her mum were out shopping. Y/N quickly walked over to close it, but then a breeze came in through the small slit, cooling her down in what had already been the starts to a very hot mid-May day. She left it open.

“I wanted to ask you about something,” Hayden said, throwing the party hat away somewhere in their room.

“Yeah?”

“What do you want for your birthday? Like, is there a specific birthday present you’d want from say…” They shrugged. “Me, Thian, Annalise, and Chloe.”

Y/N smiled. “You’re getting me a birthday present, are you?”

“Of course!” Hayden said, sounding shocked. “You’re our mate! Now, what do you want? It can be anything.”

“Anything?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” Y/N thought for a second, sitting back down on her bed. “Maybe like concert tickets, but not expensive ones for like a popular band. Maybe for a more lowkey one, one where tickets aren’t super expensive, and we can all go.”

Hayden nodded. “That sounds like so much fun, though. Just the gang, and your flat, of course.”

Y/N smiled. Someone shouted something in the back of Hayden’s end of the call, making them groan loudly before rolling their eyes.

“Right, my mum needs me to come downstairs. But,” Hayden said, getting out of bed, stepping on the party hat and crushing it under their weight. A stream of curse words left their lips before they bent down to retrieve it, showing it to Y/N before throwing it away in the bin. “We’ll bake a cake when we see each other this summer, okay?”

Y/N’s smile widened. “I’d love that.”

“Good, ‘cause we’re baking a cake when we see each other this summer.”

Y/N giggled. “Your mum gonna kill you or something?”

“Think she’s just realised I’ve raided the cupboard of Digestives.”

Y/N laughed.

“I’ll talk to you later, yeah?” Hayden smiled, waving at the screen.

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N said. “Hope you survive your mum’s wrath.”

“Doubt it.”

Y/N smiled, waving at the screen before they both hung up. A knock sounded at Y/N’s door a second later and then her mother walked into her room, smiling at her. She held a white envelope in her hand, holding it out for Y/N to take.

“You’ve got post, my dove.”

Y/N halted a little, unsure of who could possibly want to contact her through post. Lottie walked back out the door, leaving it open as she walked back downstairs, Davi’s singing sounding from the kitchen as he prepared everything for lunch. Y/N sat back down in her bed, studying the envelope in her hands closely. She thought she recognised the handwriting at the front of the envelope that spelled out her full name and her Nottingham address under it rather perfectly. As she turned the letter around to see the return address on the flap of the envelope, she realised why.

13 Dovecote Close, Princes Risborough, Buckinghamshire, HP27 9JU. Harry E. Styles.

She bit her lips together, already feeling the oncoming grin tugging at the edges of her lips. She should not have put it past Harry to do something for her birthday, this was just like him, to go out of his way and send her something in the post rather than just give it to her while they were both still under the same roof the week previous. Y/N opened it, peeking inside to see two different notes, reminding her an awful lot of the ones she slid under his door to set up a time for their little sessions. She reached in, pulling one of the two out.

Happy birthday, Y/N. Turn this around to see what I think your next tattoo should be.

She did, only to find herself laughing instantly. A heart was drawn on the other side, ‘Harry’ written in magnificent handwriting inside it. She let her finger trace the letters, imagining how smug Harry would have looked drawing this, knowing exactly the kind of reaction he would conjure up out of her. Chuckling still, she reached into the envelope and pulled out the second and last note.

And here’s something I actually think you would like.

Turning this one around, she found a drawing that took her breath away instantly. With black wings spread wide, almost glittering in the light that was supposed to shine on them, a crow was drawn in vivid detail on the other side. It looked strong, terrifying, even, staring straight back at her with an intensity and intellect only crows managed, as if they knew all your secrets and weren’t afraid to tell them to the wind, letting them carry through the world. Y/N ran a finger over the crow, feeling very overwhelmed all of a sudden. She had not expected him to draw something for her that he thought she would like tattooed on her body forever, yet here he was. It was the most beautiful thing Y/N had ever seen, and she wondered what had made him draw it.

Y/N awoke gradually, suddenly realising with slow efficiency that she was awake. Her room was draped in complete darkness, the streetlamp outside her window having been turned off for the night. Her eyes focused on her door for no particular reason, zoning in and out of what was going on, part of her thinking it was a dream while the other told her she was awake. Once she realised this was indeed reality, she tried closing her eyes again, readjusting the placement of her head against her pillow, tucking the duvet up to her skin.

A car drove by. Y/N’s eyes shot open. The car sounded closer, as if she had just stood outside, and she quickly realised why that was. Y/N had not slept with her window open since before Marcela disappeared, not in this house. Preferring to keep it closed, it felt safer that way. No spirits, no people, nothing, could sneak in through a closed window.

But as she heard footsteps outside, as if someone was walking hurriedly by her house, Y/N knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that her window was open. Wide open. It had not been that open since the night before Marcela was declared murdered. Grabbing onto her duvet, Y/N looked in the direction of the window only to confirm what she had been thinking. There her window was, the blinds open, open to let all the air, everything, inside. She wanted to get out of bed and close it, but her legs were locked to her bed, her limbs felt too heavy, too unsteady, for her to walk on right now. She had to calm down, blame it on her not closing her window earlier that day after talking to Hayden. That was it. It was the draught.

If she could just reach for her phone, she could call her mother and ask her to come into her room and close the door. Maybe she could check under her bed as well to make sure no one had gotten into her room in the time the window had been wide open. Y/N’s room was on the first storey, so it would be difficult to get in through her window, but she was also paranoid beyond belief.

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N saw movement. A stupid sense of relief washed over Y/N, thinking that maybe Lottie had come to check up on her. But no, it was not her mum. Averting her eyes from the window, Y/N looked to the end of her bed, feeling her heart stop beating. Her body lay still for a few seconds until she suddenly started shaking. It was not violently, but uncontrollable. She gripped into her duvet even harder, telling herself over and over again that this was not real.

Not real. Not real. Not real. This is just a dream; you are just having a nightmare. Close your eyes. Go back to sleep.

And Y/N tried. She closed her eyes, telling herself that this was just a figment of her idiotic imagination. Whatever she had just seen was not real, it couldn’t be. However, falling asleep when you had just seen your dead sister standing at the foot of your bed was hard.

Y/N opened her eyes, feeling a small whimper leave her lips out of pure fear. Even though she could barely see without her glasses, she still saw that. Marcela looked at Y/N with an eerie sort of passiveness, eyes resting emotionlessly on her younger sister as she shook with fear in her bed. The only way Y/N could tell it was her sister was by the slight light that came naturally from the night beyond, only illuminating half of her dead sister’s form. She did not look dead. In fact, her sister had to be a hallucination. She looked like Marcela, yet she did not. It was strange, almost devilish. She wore the exact same outfit as the last time Y/N had seen her, a floral dress and her denim jacket. A tiny smile rested on her lips, but not one Y/N had ever seen before. There was absolutely zero joy behind it. It rather looked like she was smiling for the sake of smiling. As if to ease the nerves of a terrified deer before she attacked to devour every last bit of her prey.

“M-Mari?” Y/N croaked, still unable to move.

Marcela only cocked her head to the side, still smiling that bizarre smile, making her face appear uncanny. Slowly, she raised her left hand. Y/N felt herself shrink behind her duvet. Marcela’s eyes fell onto her wrist, and when Y/N looked, she felt herself draw in a shaky breath. Marcela looked up at Y/N again, that uncanny smile still lingering on her lips as her hand fall to her side again. Slowly, Marcela walked backward towards Y/N’s door, opening it just barely. Moving out of the light of the open window, Marcela looked like a ghost. Black like complete darkness, moving unseen and transparent towards the door. Keeping her eyes on Y/N the entire way, she stepped outside. The door closed just as gradually as Marcela had walked, barely audible as it clicked into place.

Though she was trembling, Y/N removed her duvet, put her glasses on, and shakily made her way towards her door. She walked around the spot the hallucination of Marcela had just been standing, refusing to be near it. Carefully, she laid a hand on her door handle, it felt cool to the touch. As if no one had touched it a mere minute ago. Or that person had been very cold. Slowly, she opened the door, looking out into the hallway beyond. No one was there. Not a trace, not a sound.

Y/N had a hard time falling asleep, and when she woke up at 6 the next morning, it barely felt like she had gotten any rest at all. However, she wasted no time. She got dressed as quickly as she could, put some contacts in, and sent a text to her parents that she was out and about. With some breakfast in hand, Y/N drove as fast as she could. There weren’t too many out driving now, but she knew that she would be spending a lot of times in queues the closer she got to the capital. She zoomed down the motorway, not paying any attention to anything but the road ahead. Whenever she went on drives like this, she would need to have some of her own music playing in the background so she could jam out. Music could wait right now, because there was something she needed to check. Something that could simply not wait.

Once she reached the outskirts of London, the traffic was horrendous, making Y/N bite her nails as anxiety and stress started eating at every single one of her limbs. Though it took a decent amount of time to get into London by normal standards, Y/N still felt like that hour and some was the longest of her life. When she finally reached Hackney, Y/N felt her anxiety ebb just slight away. Driving in London was ridiculous, but at least she knew the streets near her well and could take some small and less busy shortcuts.

On Orsman Road, Y/N jumped out of her car and ran for the flat building’s front door. Then, after unlocking it, ran for her flat, and unlocked that front door too before sprinting for her room. The entire flat was empty, no one but her were there, which almost made it wrong for her to be there, it felt like. This was supposed to be a place she shared with Harry, Nathan, and Mason. Not someplace to run through, anxiety high, pulse higher, to get to her room as fast as possible.

She burst through her door and looked at her desk, trying to calm her breathing down as the sight in front of her dawned on her. With clammy hands, she rubbed at her eyes, maybe that would help her see more clearly. But it made no difference. She walked over to her desk then, throwing the books on her bed and putting the mug filled with pens on her dresser as she searched everywhere. But it was of no use. None at all. The watch was gone.

This is what I imagine Harry’s crow painting to look like btw!

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 23rd May, 9PM GMT!

Huge thanks to my AMAZING beta readers! 🏛️ @aileenacoustic​ 🏛️ @devil-in-bw-the-sheets​ 🏛️ @fromyourstrulyh​​  🏛️

FIC PAGE | COME TALK !!!

READ TWO CHAPTERS AHEAD ON PATREON | CHECK OUT THE OTHER FIVE EXCLUSIVE PATREON STORIES HERE!

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #:DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

[rein-ette]

Hi~

Can I have your hcs for kinks and general unsuitable behavior for our tumblr sexyman Lord Kirkland? (bonus points for any time specific nsfw hcs)

Alrighty *cracks knuckles* this'll serve nicely as my entrance ticket to hell

[clearly this is Not Appropriate do you need a warning]

Positions and Locations

1. Incidentally I also think Arthur prefers to bottom, but in engport's particular case I don't think it matters because even if Arthur ends up topping more with Port, he gets his needs met by others (mainly Francis because Francis definitely prefers to top)

1a. technically speaking arthur has no preference when it comes to physically being on top or bottom, he just prefers prostate orgasms so if he does top he'll sometimes wear a plug or wait to come

2. From the 15th-18th centuries (give or take) he liked doing it in all sorts of thrilling places: ships, crows nests, prison cells, important people's offices, libraries, battlefields, random historical buildings. But nowadays he appreciates the material comforts more and likes a nice soft bed -- though he still has sex way more than is probably moral in his office/his partner's office

3. Bonus non-nsfw hc (i'll just sprinkle these in): I love the idea that Arthur dozes off really easily when he feels comfortable, like a cat. He might not even know he's comfortable, but he'll often fall asleep curled on Port's bedspread or on Francis' couch cuz it just feels floofy and familiar and his cat brain is like, ok naptime! In terms of sleeping arrangements he also feels safest when there's someone (he trusts) between him and the door -- Port is the only one to whom he's verbally confessed this (because he thinks it's embarrassing that he needs to be "protected") and Gabi has made it a point to remember this preference for centuries.

Sexual Orientation/Preferred Types

4. He's more into men than women, and tries to avoid women entirely when it comes to casual sex. He will sleep with nations he knows well like Belgium, Hungary, or some of the German states, but if it's picking someone up at a bar (which he did way more often in the 60s and 70s than now) it's definitely a guy.

4a. he usually goes for guys broader/stronger/taller than him so he can be held down and fucked silly. Not really into twinks (Kiku is an exception but that is cuz no one can match Arthur kink for kink like Japan)

5. I've already said this to you cake but it bears repeating: Arthur almost exclusively fucks drama queens. Never mind that he bitches about France's mercurial moods or Port's spontaneous "leave me alone" rants, guys like Norway or Germany just don't do it for him. Nor do the constantly cheerful ones like Italy or the constantly annoyed ones like Romano. He loves that melancholy aura, that "I'm not sulking I'm thinking" attitude, that maudlin je ne sais quoi at 4 AM. He wants them moody and slightly salty about everything, that's what he wants.

Kinks

6. Spanking, caning, flogging. Scot (or was it wales?) once described Arthur's sexual preferences in a fic as "alarmingly public-school for someone who's only attended university" and it doesn't get clearer than that. He loves being manhandled in general and while he will keep an eye open when he's with strangers or nations he doesn't know as well, when his frequent lovers indulge him he's down for anything that doesn't draw (too much) blood.

7. He likes bondage; both giving and receiving. Gags, spreader bars, the whole lot. He has a collection, right next to his riding crops ;)

8. Collars. COLLARS. He's not into actual pet play but he LOVES collars and if he's feeling especially freaky, leashes. It turns him on so bad whether he's the one wearing it or the one holding the leash.

9. Praise and humiliation both do it for him. He's one of the best when it comes to dishing it out (he's got the spewing filth while sounding prim and proper thing down to an art).

10. He appreciates toys and makes good use of Francis' extensive collection if he does not already own something himself. He often uses vibrators or dildos when he masturbates and brings them (always shamefully) with him when he travels, just in case. Port, who otherwise meticulously collects other knickknacks, does not actually possess that many toys because Arthur always brings them with him and Port's often too lazy to use toys with other lovers anyways.

11. He also has a profound competence kink. He expects the worst from everyone while keeping his own standards high, so when someone excels at something that blows his expectations out of the fucking water? He's all over that. Notable historical examples include when Francis is especially impassioned about a particular political cause and rinses someone in a debate, when a nation absolutely wipes the floor with another nation's army in a war (this was almost the exclusive reason he had sex with Gilbert in the 18th century), when Port teaches him new languages (their "lessons" are always longer than expected).

Other Unsuitable Behaviour For a Gentleman That Don't Classify as Kinks (Speed Round)

12. He has a very high libido but won't admit it

13. He loves it when Port wears lingerie

14. He wears tight, high waisted pants when he goes out at night bc he knows it makes his legs look good (but won't admit it)

15. When he's relaxed he's quite good at making conversation -- people often find him witty and pleasantly flirtatious

16. He loves riling Port up so he can get pounded the way he wants it

17. He likes large hands

18. Hairpulling is also a kink

19. I realized i titled this section not kinks but here we are

20. he used to have sleeve tats and tattoos all over his back and my god Francis and Gabriel worshipped him. He's too lazy (and stingy) to get so many nowadays though, especially cuz they fade so fast.

21. in threesomes he likes DP and spitroasting, especially if he's the one taking it

22. that was the filthiest sentence I've ever written so I'm gonna end this by saying he likes cuddles after sex but -- guess what? -- he won't admit it.

#hws england #ns/fw #soooooo not PG guys i warned you #needcake is making my blog a degenerate place #just kidding I've always been a degenerate and this was always going to happen #also unlike cake i have once again abandoned concision and produced a dissertation #sorry about that #my hcs

[miioouu]

Hi I just wanna cuddle bakugou and bully him that is all - just peachy anon🍑

I want to bully baku too 🥺🥺! Thank you for requesting 🍑!! ❤️💜❤️

Lazy days are always well spent just laying around amd doing nothing. Well nothing but annoy your boyfriend. Slipping into his dorm really early in the morning, you just wanted to wale him up sweetly, like the good partner you were. And by that, I mean you'll jump onto him, startling him as you wrap your arms around him and nuzzle into the crook of his neck, drowning him with kisses. When Katsuki wakes up, he's usually a lot nicer than normal. So if you were expecting to get your ear chew off, you're going to get pleasantly surprised. With just a roll of his eyes, he layed his head on top of yours, one hand running through your hair as the other caressed your arms, leaving you a shivering mess, despite the warmth coming off of his body. And every now and then, he'd turn to give your head a soft kiss, and pull you tighter into his chest. What happened to your boyfriend? That's nothing like him! Maybe he's sick, or did he have a bad dream? Maybe he got hit by a quirk, or did someone tell him to become nicer to you? Pulling away completely to look at him, concern pooling your eyes as you asked him if anything was wrong. Confused by your worry and question, he just shook his head no, telling you that everything is ok and he just misses you. What was more shocking was the tone of his voice. Deep and raspy from sleep, yet so sweet and calm contrasting to his always so loud yelling. You can't deny it, it did make your heart skip a beat, stomach doing flips and heat rush up to your face by how adorable Katsuki was being. But of course you had to ruin this moment, it just doesn't feel right and you can't take being flustered around him anymore. Cuddling back to him, you couldn't help but giggle as your fingers started drawing shapes on his. Feeling his musclr tighten as soon as your teasing words left your lips, you now know that he's definitely awake by the glare he sent you. "Wow Katsu, I realy didn't know that my boyfriend was so sweet and loving.... Oh wait I have a better word to describe you. You're such a simp babe!"

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #bnha imagines #bnha headcanons #bnha bakugou #🍑 anon #🍑 #request

[writing-wolf]

Swan Song [C.D.]

Summary: You can’t escape love.

Words: 2,225. What a beautiful number. Also written as 1,000 x (89/40), for my fellow maths kids.

Warning(s): None. Gender-neutral protagonist (heads-up, not a warning).

Like every other year, the bustling Hogwarts Express is full of life and running children. You don’t look forward to patrolling for the second time since you’ve been appointed Ravenclaw Prefect, but at least you still have the Prefects’ compartment all to yourself. For now. 

The first person to join you, to your dismay, is your senior Prefect, Marcus Turner (you don’t hate him, you just prefer the company of a good book over that of a subtly pompous seventh year). Luckily, he respects as much of your personal space as one can in a cramped compartment, and sits close to the sliding door. What he doesn’t do, however, is stay silent. More than I had hoped for, I suppose. 

“How were your summer holidays, Clarke?” he asks. 

“Fine. Yours?”

“Magnificent. Vivianne came over, you know, she’s from Beauxbatons, so I couldn’t see her during school. We ended up camping in a tent in Wales. Those new tents they’re selling, they’ve got built-in Extension Charms. Very modern,” Marcus beams.

“Right, extraordinary,” you mutter, not looking up from your parchment. Marcus shuffles around in his seat, not sure what else to talk about. You do feel a bit guilty, but you just don’t know what to say.

“The others might already be patrolling, we should also head out,” he says after a couple of minutes. You nod, rolling up the piece of parchment and cleaning your quill with a quick Household Charm.

You step out of the compartment just as Cedric does. You meet his eyes and quickly look away, the blood rushing to your face. You haven’t spoken to him ever since last year’s accidental (but not so accidental) snog on the Astronomy Tower. 

Footsteps echo as someone walks up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower. You’d be alert, but you’re too tired and just a tad too stoned to care. Still, you’re filled with dread at the possibility of a teacher seeing you like this. 

Cedric appears in the doorway, surprised at the presence of another student, let alone another prefect, at his little escape spot. You glance at him for a while, staring at his young, handsome face. Neither one of you speaks. Cedric doesn’t know whether to dash or to take a seat beside you on the floor. 

“Are you going to keep standing there like a deer in headlights, Ced?” you chuckle, blowing another puff of smoke into the cold air. Cedric smiles, clumsily rushing to sit next to you. He’s too close for comfort, too comfortable to you. 

“What would your juniors think if they saw their prefect smoking a blunt?”

“Beats me. And technically, I’m still on duty.” you half-heartedly grin with tired eyes.

He grins back. “What? Patrolling the Astronomy Tower?” 

“Guarding everyone from the big, bad stars,” you mumble absentmindedly, taking another drag, “Wan’ a hit?” 

He declines, jokes about being a good example for others.

“Aye, it’s clear that I’m not one, then.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Cedric sighs.

“I get it though. No one wants a prim, perfect prefect that smokes on the Astronomy Tower at night because they can’t sleep. It’s harmless, by the way. Or at least, it’s not tobacco.” You run a hand through your hair, sides shaved short in an act of subtle rebellion. Against who, you don’t know. Maybe against yourself.

“I know. You’re not...you’re a good person. A good prefect.”

“Calling the kettle black, are we? You know, you’re annoyingly perfect.”

“I’m not. I’m here, aren’t I? Breaking rules like a true gangster,” he laughs. You snort, shooting a quick glance at him. You fall into a comfortable silence, slowly inching closer to each other, until your legs are tangled together and your head rests in the crook of his neck. He’s just keeping you warm, you tell yourself. It’s cold, and you’ve stubbed the joint out onto the stones.

“I want to escape, you know?” You break the silence, your groggy voice making the words seem all the more real. You don’t know why you’re telling Cedric Diggory this, of all people. He’s not even your best friend. Maybe it’s the night that removes all restrictions. Maybe it’s the night that makes you want to kiss him. 

Cedric feels it, feels the way things are different now, will always be different. So he tilts your head towards him, swipes his thumb over your cheek, and whispers: “Then do.”

Your kiss isn’t needy or desperate; it’s lazy and familiar, like everything that’s happening just feels right. His lips are cold, yet still impeccably soft, and you shudder when they move against yours. 

You break the kiss, after what feels like too long to not catch feelings. “I...I should go,” you stammer. 

Cedric looks up at you, eyes filled with worry and perhaps shock as well. “I’ll see you around. Goodnight,” you whisper at the doorway to the stairs, and smile at him. Neither one of you was going to have a good night that night.

Trying to avoid someone isn’t all that easy when you’re stuck patrolling a train with them. Luckily, every House’s prefects stick together. You turn to the left to patrol that side of the train, but Cedric grabs your elbow before you can. He pulls you closer to him. You look at your feet to avoid having to look at his face. 

“Hey, how are you?”

“I’m fine. Look, I don’t-” you mutter, uncertain of what to say. Someone pulls Cedric away, another prefect with their arm around his shoulder.

“Can we talk about this? Later?” he asks. You nod, nearly invisibly, and he turns away. You bite your lip before following the other Ravenclaw prefects. 

You don’t see Cedric a lot for another three weeks, and if you do, you make sure not to make eye-contact with him. Because you’re not sure what he’ll say, nor are you sure what you want him to say. You’ve come to like him, ever since the kiss. Or at least, that’s when you realised how much you’d grown to like the Hufflepuff prefect. Maybe you’ve always liked him, ever since he shot you a smile during your first Potions class in Third Year. Maybe he’s liked you since that moment too.

“Clarke and Diggory.” Professor Snape’s voice rings in the Potions Dungeon. You’re only paying him half a mind. A young, brown haired boy walks towards your desk, his robes a little too short to accommodate the fast rate at which he’s growing (you only notice because you have a bad habit of staring at your feet).

“Hi partner. I’m Cedric Diggory,” he announces, quickly sticking out his hand for you to shake. 

“Introductions are for after class, Mr. Diggory, how ever important you feel like you are. Four points from Hufflepuff.” As Snape drawls on, Cedric grins sheepishly at you, and for a moment, you think your heart just skipped a beat. 

You become his ‘friend’ quickly after you two become partners.You don’t really know what a friend is. You know how to be kind, how to smile and how to converse with others, but you don’t know the criteria for being a friend. While Cedric doesn’t necessarily mind the attention he gets as he’s steadily growing taller and more handsome, you prefer quiet spots, practicing silly charms in the shade (you’ve kept yourself entertained by testing a charm that lifts quill ink and drawings right off the paper in one piece) and sleeping on the moving staircase (you always end up in your own bed the next morning, somehow...). As a result, the two of you don’t really hang out all that often. You don’t know his other friends, or what his favourite sandwich is. You don’t know whether he prefers Chocolate Frogs over Pumpkin Pasties, you don’t know what he orders when he goes to The Three Broomsticks, or what kind of jokes he tells in a crowd. 

You do, however, know which books he likes to read, which questions keep him up at night. You know that he’ll hum the tune to ‘This is The Night’ by The Weird Sisters when he’s distracted, and that he likes it when you ruffle his hair. You wonder what that makes you. 

There is always a time for confrontation. On the third Tuesday since you last spoke to Cedric in the train, he finds you to the Astronomy Tower. You’re absentmindedly staring at the sky, where the sun is slowly setting and painting the sky in warm hues as a dramatic way to say goodbye. Cedric huffs out a laugh when he sees you, sitting on the ground of the unoccupied Astronomy Tower with a ragged, old scarf.

“I thought I’d find you here,” he says. 

“Do you ever wonder why the sun looks so beautiful when it leaves? I read this muggle thing, by some philosopher. He says swans sing the most beautiful melodies when they’re about to die,” you ask him, scrunching your nose a little as you turn your head to face him. Cedric chuckles, before moving to sit next to you. Your shoulders are touching, and you wonder whether it’s your imagination, but you feel warm.

“Maybe it doesn’t want to be forgotten.”

You finally look at him. “Maybe,” you mutter, “Or maybe it rejoices in its escape from the world.”

The two of you sit in silence for a while, watching the sky darken. Cedric decides to break the silence first. “Look...I really wanted to talk to you about, about that kiss.”

“Why? Do you regret it?” you ask, your normally nonchalant voice growing anxious. 

“I...No. Do you? You’re avoiding me.”

“I don’t know whether it should happen again, Cedric. You and I...we’re different. People like you shouldn’t be together with people like me.” You pull on a loose thread of your scarf. 

Cedric’s voice gets a little louder, a little firmer when he asks the next question. “What’s so different about us?”

“Everything. You have friends, a social life. You should be with someone like that. Someone who can give you a clear answer, who can laugh at your jokes and hang out with your friends. There’s nothing you can get out of this, there’s nothing you could gain from somebody so imperfect.”

Cedric laughs humorlessly. “Why do you always put a gap between us? Don’t put me on a pedestal like this. You know, I hate it when you do this,” he mutters. 

“It’s the truth,” you state.

“Then I don’t think you know me. I’m not perfect. I don’t understand why you always say I am,” he huffs, frustration growing into hopelessness. 

“Because you are, to me, to others.”

“I’m just human. Don’t rob me of this, this trust. You know I can only unwind when I’m with you. I’ve told you how much I value you. Please don’t do that to me, don’t look at me as if I’m unreachable,” Cedric grabs your hand, squeezing it as if he’s desperate to hold on, “I don’t want to lose us,” he whimpers.

You bow your head in shame, tears welling up. “Why would you want me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he quips. You sniffle, chuckling through your tears.

You breathe out, blowing a misty cloud into the sunset. “I’m afraid you’ll get tired of me. That one day, when I think you love me like I love you, when I think I’m standing high and dry on the dunes, a wave will wash me away...Just because I wanted to be close to you,” you look at him, your eyes red and your sight blurry, “I hate feeling so insecure around you.”

“The feeling’s mutual. Don’t you think I hate seeing you look away when our eyes meet, like I’ve done something to make you afraid of me. I regret kissing you every day, not because I didn’t want to, but because it made you look at me like that...because I’d rather never kiss you than feel the loneliness of my shaking heart.” Cedric sniffles.

“I-” you hesitate.

“Didn’t think it’d be like that? Thought the feeling was one-sided?” you nod at his words, “What if...What if ignoring me wasn’t your only option, Clarke? What if you could feel more secure in my arms?”

“I don’t know, Cedric,” you mutter. You’re hesitant, stuck in your own inferiority complex, but if what he says is true (and Merlin, do you want it to be true), then you want to take a shot in the dark. Screw carefully calculating every move. You like him. You love him. And you’d never forgive yourself for letting this love go. “...But I want to try.”

Cedric smiles, bringing his lips closer to meet yours. Kissing him feels better than you remember, with his lips ever so soft and a little swollen from biting on them. He’s moved his hand from your chin to your cheek, and you’re holding the back of his neck, trying to pull him impossibly closer to you.

“Are you okay with me?” he asks when you pull back.

“You’re never getting rid of me,” you say, holding back a grin.

“Hey,” he whispers, “I forgot to say something.”

“Hmm?”

“I like you.”

“I like you too. More than you could ever imagine.” He kisses you once more, and you wonder whether any swan song could live up to this moment.

Hello fellas,

I’m back, and I’m apparently writing some stuff for HP now. The philosopher I mentioned was Plato (via Socrates in a dialogue), aaaand yeah. I’ve never written something this dialogue-heavy either, but I did enjoy having something a bit weird and abstract, as opposed to a story with a detailed setting.

Hope you enjoy it, requests are still open. 

Rémy

#cedric diggory #cedric imagine #harry potter #cedric diggory imagine #diggory #cedric #cedric diggory x reader #fluff #angst

[ofcmckenna]

new york’s very own mckenna asher was spotted on broadway street in jimmy choo romy pumps . your resemblance to taylor hill is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty-first birthday bash . while living in nyc ,  you’ve been labeled as being materialistic , but also devoted . i guess being a taurus explains that . 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be wrists covered in makeup swatches , a perfectly blended halo eye ,  and never being seen without perfectly manicured nails . ( i once made a fake account to expose information about myself just to get more followers ) & ( cis-female & she / her  )  +  ( lia , 19 , she / her , cst . )

hello , loves ! it’s me , lia ( i also play margo ) back again with another trash child that i’m hoping you’ll all love as much as i do <33 i first came up w kenna many years ago and haven’t had the opportunity to write for her in a long long time , so i’m really excited to bring her here ! as always , if you wanna plot go ahead and LIKE THIS and i’ll happily come love you down . if discord is more your jam , hmu there too @ 𝐛𝐛𝐧𝐨$𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥#1904 . love y’all !!! 💕💓💕

S T A T S ↴

-- * FULL NAME : mckenna sophia asher -- * NICKNAME(S) : kenna ( preferred name ), kenny , ken , mick -- * AGE : twenty-one -- * D.O.B : may 10th -- * ZODIAC : taurus -- * GENDER : cis-female -- * ORIENTATION : bisexual biromantic -- * HEIGHT : 5″7 -- * NATIONALITY : american ( has dual citizenship in america and wales ) -- * BIRTHPLACE : colwyn bay , wales -- * OCCUPATION : youtuber / makeup artist -- * TRAITS : devoted , ambitious , hard-working , materialistic , stubborn , patient , sensual , reliable , organized , possessive , imbalanced , attention-seeking

B I O G R A P H Y ↴

honestly i am........ too lazy to make this a nice bio so plz forgive me for settling on bullet points ,, but at least that’s less reading for you !!!!

mckenna’s father is from wales and works as a plastic surgeon for the rich and fabulous and her mother is from new york and works a beautician and stylist for celebrities . together they had 5 children in total , the kid in the very middle being kenna . the family spent most of her childhood living in wales before moving to new york just before mckenna started high school

all of her siblings are really talented . it must be in their genes or something to have an affinity for the arts . her older brother is in a popular band . her older sister is a principal dancer . her younger sister is an incredible painter . and her younger brother is like six so he’s still coming into his own but there’s no doubt that he’ll be a prodigy at something

and what about mckenna ??? well she tried following in her brother’s footsteps by learning a bunch of instruments but none of them clicked . after that she tried to take dance classes with her sister but it was clear to see that she had two-left feet . she could barely draw a perfect circle , so painting like her younger sister was out of the question too . eventually she tried to pursue an acting career , auditioning for tv shows and movies but never booking anything more than a handful of commercials

so she spent a majority of her life feeling pretty inadequate compared to her siblings . she just wanted to be good at something , anything really . and she wanted to be praised for it . luckily , she eventually found her thing . though it was sorta unconventional : kenna figured out that she’s good at makeup . it’s basically an art form in itself and since she had the time on her hands to practice , she got pretty good at it

she started posting her looks on social media , gaining a little bit of attention on her instagram and later even starting a youtube channel ( at the time it was called pinkglitter2234 bc she was like 13 and cringey ). doing makeup and making youtube videos was her new favorite pass time and pretty much all she did throughout high school . kids in her school started recognizing her as “the the girl who talks funny and makes youtube videos” ,, so that’s pretty cool ig

it really wasn’t until her senior year that her channel gained a serious following . by the time she graduated she worked her way up to 1m subscribers and just a few hundred thousand away from having 1m on instagram too . CRAZY . and since youtube had become a serious job to her that she wanted to continue doing , she figured that she’d take a gap year off just to focus on that and building her personal brand . so she moved out and got an apartment in the city , paid for all by herself ( though mommy and daddy’s money certainly helped furnish it with all her lavish stuff ) and got to WORK

that ONE gap year turned into a gap... three years ??? she never applied to university and honestly she doesn’t plan to anytime soon ! her social media career has never been more poppin’ tbh . she has like over 8m subscribers on her main channel ( now called makeupmckenna ) and just a little bit under that on her vlog channel . she’s had various partnerships with different makeup brands , colourpopcosmetics , morphe , and lancôme just to name a few . on her channel she also does fashion / styling videos , which has gained her attention from several brands that have sent her pieces to promote and invited her to see their shows at fashion week and whatnot . big money moves basically !!

okay now for her secret : basically ,, kenna is hard-working don’t get me wrong , but she’s also obsessed with increasing her following and is willing to do anything if it means signal boosting herself and becoming more successful . so basically , at one point she made a fake account that posed as one of her “haters” “exposing” her-- and since no publicity is bad publicity , it got more people talking about her and following her . she even made a sob story youtube video in response to the “hate” she was getting and the rumours that were sparking because of it . the account has since been deleted but that doesn’t mean that the screenshots of the rumours aren’t still circulating the internet . it’s been a few years since the “scandal” but that doesn’t mean that it still doesn’t get talked about from time to time

P E R S O N A L I T Y  &  F U N  F A C T S ↴

personality-wise : kenna is a sweetheart ! at least on the outside ! like she lowkey has selfish motives sometimes when it comes to gaining online popularity , but outside of social media she is genuine and goofy and a good friend i swear . would give you the designer clothes off her back if you’re close to her . also affectionate because she’s from a big family that actually has a healthy relationship with each other ( minus kenna’s minor jealousy she used to harbor as a kid... she’s kinda grown out of it now as a young-adult who’s successful in her own right ) so she loves to love . super materialistic though . loves shiny things and owning the newest trendy stuff . definitely thinks that money can buy happiness and she’s super stubborn so you cannot convince her otherwise . loves attention , will do just about anything to get it but if it doesn’t fit her “pristine girl next door” image then she’ll have to do it in secret . and since she has made a name for herself as being “innocent” , she doesn’t party too much . just not a big fan of that lifestyle

just bc she never went to college DOES NOT MEAN that my girl is dumb  .. she actually likes to keep learning new things by constantly reading and trying out new skills . she’s v much a jack of all trades but a master at none . minus her ability to beat her face and talk to a camera lol

she’s fluent in both english and welsh , and used to have an accent when she was younger but has since taught herself to sound super american . she thinks it makes her more appealing idk

very family orientated and keeps in close contact with her siblings and parents despite the fact that they live all around the world doing their own things

has collabed with loads of famous peeps not just for youtube videos but getting to do their makeup for gigs . she’s gotten to a point in her career where she’s able to bridge the gap between influencer and professional artist y’know what i mean ??

loves dogs . has a dog named tate who frequently makes appearances in her posts :)))

consumes an unhealthy amount of caffeine daily

doesn’t know how to drive . doesn’t even have a license or anything and who knows if she’ll ever learn tbh

she’s bisexual but has only come out to her close friends and family . hasn’t outwardly said anything to her following but they can probably make assumptions considering who she’s been seen getting close to . like it’s not a big deal to her , she likes who she likes , but also doesn’t think it’s anyone else’s business besides whoever she’s dating / sleeping with at the time

W A N T E D  C O N N E C T I O N S ↴

EDIT : i have in fact made a wc page so peep that here if ya want ! xox

#wealthyhq:intro #oh yes MA'AM we are in business now #plz plot w my baby i'll love you forever

[tigerlover16-uk]

People can complain all they want about Dragon Ball Super, but I’m glad it exists if only for the joy it’s brought a lot of people.

I’ve been browsing through some of the results for Masakox’s “#ASuperthankyou” art challenge, and seeing so many people celebrating the stuff they loved about the show and the experiences it’s given them is just the most touching thing. My favourite bit of fan art was this:

https://twitter.com/Mayrabitty08/status/982380991179378688

If you’re feeling too lazy to click the link (It’s fine, I can relate to that), it’s basically a set of pictures showing the artist and her older brother enjoying themselves watching Goku going super Saiyan for the first time watching Dragon Ball Z, and another of them now with their new younger sibling geeking out over Goku going Ultra Instinct.

And I just... how can you not want to shed a tear over that?

I’ve read plenty of accounts similar to this, of parents who grew up with Dragon Ball sharing the experience of watching Super now with their little kids, or with their younger siblings. People passing on the joyful experience of Dragon Ball to a new generation through this newest installment.

All throughout Central America, large public gatherings where crowds numbering over 2000 people, the largest reporting gathering supposedly having about TEN THOUSAND, came together to watch the last few episodes of Super. Think about that, and how that many people came together to watch some episodes of a children’s cartoon.

It’s extraordinary, and seeing some of the reaction videos of all these people gathered together and losing their minds, having so much fun watching their favourite fictional heroes (And villain, in Frieza’s case) kicking butt, it always puts a smile on my face.

I’ve seen so many people having fun mulling over the show, so many talented people inspired to draw beautiful fan art, or create other forms of content for the show and it’s characters.

It’s just... it’s just a beautiful experience. I never had internet when I was a kid, not until after all three old dragon ball shows had already finished airing here in Wales, so I never really got to share the experience with anyone since I don’t think any of my family were interested. I never dreamed that not only would Dragon Ball come back, but that I’d get to witness just how much it can still inspire people in such huge ways.

I see a lot of grumpy disgruntled people calling Super the worst thing ever, saying that it shouldn’t exist and it’s ruining Dragon Ball.

Well... okay, it has problems. It’s made mistakes, some pretty big ones (The ending of the Future Trunks saga was nonsense), and I can’t say it’s near as good as Dragon Ball and Dragon Ball Z. There’s times where I’ve been upset with it too, I understand why a lot of people don’t like it or wish we’d gotten a different show that matched their expectations.

But clearly there are countless people around the world who DON’T think Dragon Ball is ruined, if they’re getting that emotional and invested in this show.

For a whole generation of new Dragon Ball fans, Super is going to be their introduction to the franchise, and the foundation of their love for Dragon Ball as a whole. Just like the Prequel Trilogy made me a Star Wars fan. For many people who grew up with the franchise, Super has succeeded in rekindling their childhood joy and made them love Dragon Ball more than ever, for many maybe after they’d drifted apart from the series long ago.

Maybe there are a lot of people who have issue with the show, or outright can’t stand it. And I feel for you, that stinks and I’m sorry.

Maybe Super wasn’t everything we wanted it to be. Maybe it does fall short in a lot of ways, I could certainly go on and on about my grievances if I wanted to. Super could have been better if Toei’s higher ups had taken more care and not rushed everyone into production. It should have been better, the kind of show that all of Dragon Ball’s fans really deserve.

But for all the ups and downs, at the end of the day, I think Super ultimately succeeded at what it really needed to do.

It brought Dragon Ball back.

Not just in the sense of continuing the story, but I mean it’s brought the series to a new generation, and rekindled the spirit of the franchise for a great many of the people who have been with it for years, many even since the very beginning.

And even with Super as we knew it ending, Dragon Ball isn’t going away anytime soon. We’ve got the movie coming up, and all signs point to a new series coming out not long after it. In all likelihood, it’s looking like Dragon Ball will continue with many more stories for many years to come. Maybe it’ll even go on forever.

That’s why I can’t relate to anyone who says they wish Dragon Ball had stayed the way it was and never came back. Or at least that Super itself is a failure.

I understand loving the series and wanting only the best for it, and not wanting to run the risk of seeing it sullied. Believe me, as a Marvel comics fan I can definitely see the downsides to such a thing. I get wanting Dragon Ball to just be this great classic manga and two anime series.

But if things stayed the way they were, and Toei never tried to bring it back, then so many people would be missing out on all these wonderful experiences they’re having right now, and the experiences they and generations after us will have with whatever new Dragon Ball shows, movies and etc will be coming out years and years down the line thanks to what Super has started.

And that all loops back to making new generations of people get the chance to fall in love with Dragon Ball and go back to experience those same older stories that we all loved and cherished. Something they might not have done otherwise.

Think of it... how many people in my generation and the ones immediately before and after would love Star Trek if not for The Next Generation, Voyager, Deep Space 9 and the Abrams movies?

Super isn’t perfect. I’m sorry to all the people it’s upset, and all the fandom nonsense revolving around it. Dragon Ball does deserve better in many ways, and I hope future installments do better

But I will forever be grateful to it for keeping the spirit of Dragon Ball alive. And I hope future shows can continue to do the same thing for decades, who knows, maybe centuries to come (If we don’t destroy the planet by then, or something).

So in the end, whatever you might think of the show from a critical perspective... can it really be called a failure?

I don’t think it can.

Long live Dragon Ball.

#dragon ball super #dbs #dragon ball #dragon ball z #dbz

[imperfectiions-archive-blog]

Family. (Task.)

Adelaide turned away from her daughter with a look of mild disdain. “Look what you’ve done. Made a mess, alright.”

Mary was grateful that her mother wouldn’t look at her. She didn’t want to be on the receiving end of the icy stare she knew so well. There was a certain level of relief when Adelaide seemed ready to leave the room, but then she turned back, her eyes cold. “I don’t want to see you doing any more of this… magic. Whatever you call it. It’s enough.”

With that, the older woman swept out, her steps light, her aura the sun ready to burn.

Mary looked around her room. The toys had come to life and had played with her until her mother had marched in, furious at something her husband had said.

Their marriage was loveless.

Mary’s family was complicated. Her father’s mother was a widow who had a giant mansion south of London. She used to stay there with her mother when her father was away.

Her father was Jameson N. Poppins, a famous author, and descendant of some sort of Lord. No one liked talking about it.

The man doted on his daughter mercilessly until she was eight. That was the year her grandmother’s china cabinet flew apart after Annette, her grandmother, called her a reclusive freak.

Mary never seemed to be able to make friends.

After the incident, he seemed to distance himself. His marriage finally seemed to fall apart with his long time sweetheart once her mother’s nature was revealed.

Adelaide was cruel. She appeared beautiful and kind, but deep down, she was vain. She was obsessed with physical beauty. She took a sick pleasure in making people miserable.

That’s why she had the affair.

When Mary was ten, she discovered a strange man asleep in her mother’s study. He was tall and handsome, and he appeared to be fairly young. Mary’s mother was about thirty at the time. And the young man? Maybe twenty.

Her mother waltzed in, dressed in her nightgown, cut low around the bust, somewhat sheer. She kissed the man tenderly. Mary ran as quietly as she could away from the scene. Terrified, with a twist in her gut.

It made Mary sick.

There was no option, Mary had to tell her father. When she did, he fell into a rage. Mary protected herself by hiding behind their grand sofa, but Adelaide made a burning contact with Mary’s eyes.

“So what?” She looked bored, a facade to hide her wicked nature. She was a horrible person. “You’re never around. And you’re no good as a husband anyway.”

Mary later realized she was censoring her words for Mary’s sake. Her father went to hit her mother, but Adelaide grabbed his hand and dug her long nails into his arm.

Some threats were made from both sides and when it was over, Jameson hugged his daughter and admitted he was useless as a father. Seeing himself unfit, he slowly neglected the reminder of his failure.

Adelaide never got over it. It seemed more like a topic that evoked rage than one that evoked any shred of shame. She became cold toward her daughter, more so than before. She became hateful. She hated her house, she hated her husband, she hated her role as a mother.

When she was young, Adelaide wanted to be in love so badly. She read all about it in books. But when her parents arranged her marriage, her sadistic nature came out. She wanted to be dominant, to have everything and everyone love her how she wanted to be loved. It would never happen, and she turned bitter.

Adelaide was magical.

Mary always knew she was magical. She retained all her powers since birth. Her ability to talk to the wind, her love for animals. She slowly studied about concentration and language as to master her skills. She was talented, but Mary would never get anywhere without a good education. The young girl learned as much as she could, and when she was thirteen, she witnessed the possible reason for her magic.

Adelaide had broken everything. The kitchen was a mess. Mary had wandered into the area, in their mansion of a house, and found Adelaide sitting on the floor, dishes and cups and crystal lying broken around her. She looked down at her hands, red with running blood. Deep red.

Her face looked murderous. This was after she and Jameson had fought over Mary’s schooling. Jameson wanted to send her to a school closer to home, a nice school that would be kind to their daughter. Adelaide wanted her to attend a rigorous boarding school, like the one she had gone to.

“She’ll never learn how to be a proper lady if she doesn’t go to a school that tests her.”

Anyway. Mary’s mother sat, skirts pooled around her, blood dripping onto the dark fabric.

She sighed and waved her bloody hands. The dishes turned back to their whole selves and flew to the cabinets.

Adelaide’s hands were still bloody.

The cold woman turned to see Mary standing there, dumbfounded. This time, she made no threatening movements. She stood, wiped her hands off on her dress, and left the room, almost like a ghost.

Mary never understood her parents.

The unloving couple stayed together. It was understandable. Divorce was a sin to the Poppinses, and Adelaide was much too proud to be involved in a scandal. Adelaide’s family were the Fairbairns. They never talked to Mary except to give her the occasional gift. Even then, it was in letters.

Mary soon realized why. 

Adelaide had been with a boy before marriage. When she was eighteen, she had slept with her stable boy, a boy not much older than herself. He was dashing, but he wanted money. His plan was to sleep with the young woman and blackmail her. Adelaide knew better. She admitted to her family what she had done without remorse. They felt the need to disown her, but first, they needed to be rid of the stable boy. Adelaide pretended to be affected by his blackmail and gave him some money, but when he tried to run, her parents had him arrested.

Her lascivious nature and her history with it were a cause of Mary’s initial disdain for sex. Still, Mary found herself without much want for it, even before she had discovered her mother’s history.

Jameson had known. He knew for years but never said anything. He tolerated his wife’s abuse because it was all he could do. Adelaide would give him hell and he merely accepted it.

“Doormat.”

Mary was eighteen when she had broken her father’s heart. She had refused to marry a young man named Victor Earnest. Adelaide wasn’t amused. She tried to convince manipulate her daughter into having a life, but Mary had spat back, “don’t ask me to become you!”

Her mother’s eyes darkened into a glacier. Into a blizzard of rage. Adelaide cursed at her daughter, her rage unleashing a wind. The air seemed to thicken and thin at the same time and Mary found it hard to breathe. Her mother’s will and fury were overcoming.

Mary fought back.

Mary used all her energy to release her own power. Adelaide was knocked off her feet, backward onto the floor. She looked betrayed and furious. Mary stood there, her dress and hair ruffled.

What had she done?

Her mother shunned her after that. She would occasionally make a passing remark about the inadequacy of her daughter, often stating that she was disappointed by the child that she had done everything for.

Her father tried to talk to her again. He tried to reason with her, but he didn’t know. He didn’t understand Mary’s magic. He didn’t understand what had transpired between his wife and daughter.

Mary tried to spare him the details.

When Jameson discovered that Adelaide had almost killed Mary (though he didn’t know how) he turned on her. He went after her as she slept in the drawing room, a lazy sleep, and shook her awake. She was groggy and not quite adjusted to being aware, and he hit her. Despite all their quarrels, he had never hit her. Adelaide tried to kick him off of her and to wake up. It was like she had been drugged.

She had been.

Adelaide Poppins had been given a sedative by the garden boy. He gave her some tea in the morning and within the hour, she had fallen deep into a slumber.

Mary didn’t know how to take this.

“Sorry about that,” said a voice outside her window.

The young woman peered out and saw a friendly face.

“Name’s Bert,” he greeted with a smile.

“What did you do to my mother?” She asked.

“Oh. I heard she went for you. Had to do something.”

“She’ll kill you.”

“No, she won’t. I’ll be gone before she even realizes I did it.”

Mary closed her eyes. “That’s not true. She’s perceptive. She’s dangerous.”

Bert shrugged. “I’m fleeing out to some friend’s house in Wales.”

Mary considered what he said. Then, “can I come?”

“Miss, I couldn’t have you come. You’ve got a good life here.”

She scoffed. “No, I don’t. My father wants to murder my mother, my mother would probably murder my father, or somehow murder me. I’m not safe here.”

Bert looked at her sadly. “If you pack a bag, we can leave in an hour.”

Mary grinned and ran back to her closet.

She was prepared to save herself.

In the back of her mother’s closet was a carpet bag. She had seen her mother pull out countless treasures from its depth, and Mary knew that was how she would get out. She dug for it, wary because her mother was passed out in bed, feverish. When she finally acquired it, she shot back to her room and packed books, clothes, her hats, everything. The bag was so light. 

In an hour she was gone.

She looked at her family every now and again through the windows. She would sit on the neighbor’s rooftop and just watch.

Her mother was miserable now. She was a shell of her former self. Once, she was a queen. She was an ice statue come alive. Now, she was finally submissive.

Meanwhile, her father had grown more confident. He was ready to take on Adelaide’s manipulation.

Mary hadn’t seen what changed them so quickly, but she didn’t care. Whatever happened was behind her. She sometimes watched her mother break down in her room. Mary’s room. The place she was so hateful of because it reminded her of being trapped. 

Adelaide finally showed some form of remorse for her daughter’s leaving. She knew it was her fault. She knew that she was unlovable now, that she would never be whole because she would never feel a bond. 

Jameson finally tried to love Adelaide. It didn’t work out how they’d hoped. They’d both become distant with each other.

Mary hated seeing them like this. And finally, she tried to stop seeing them. Maybe once a year, once every two. Her mother’s hair started going gray, her father’s hairline receding.

And Mary was free. 

And she never had to endure them again.

#long post #;;muse #;;adelaidepoppins #;;jamesonpoppins #;;marypoppins #;;prose #wrrp task #;;task

[captainignatiuspigheart]

Yup, Still Kansas, Just Has More People

Looks like I’m slightly ahead, I’m wrapping up last week only a day late. Surely this augurs great things… Maybe. By my standards, last week was a veritable social whirlwind. No wonder I now wish to hide in the dark! I have a somewhat quieter week ahead, featuring lots of work to be done and if I’m lucky a couple of Lego-ing slots. 

Evening Drinking

Is the evening the best time to drink? I’m never sure. I kinda like daytime drinking when I’m on holiday, but I’ll confess it mostly leads to dozing off in the early evening and arguably not being the best use of time… But that’s what they would argue, and screw those guys, right? Either way, I’ve done a bit of it this week.

I finally managed to catch up with some of my dearest friends from the sixteen years I spent working in Probation before it went to galactic level shit, courtesy of our government’s ideological obsession with privatisation. I finally abandoned ship some four years ago (to find a wildly pleasing new life in publishing), and as usual, I’ve not retained a huge number of friends out of the many people I saw and interacted with daily for so many years. I absolutely suck at keeping hold of folks, which makes me rather sad at times. And then I forget, until I remember again. It’s a cycle… Anyway, due to the remaining aftereffects of storm Ciara and the nightmare that is Nottingham traffic management, only three of us successfully reunited. I’m not sure why it’s mostly my former line managers that I ended up being closest to, but I’m very glad to have done. I get that lovely feeling I do with my cousins when I see them, of snapping effortlessly back into our relationships, just as we had last time we met. It might be one of my favourite sensations in the whole world. If someone’s created a fiendish term to capture it already, I’d be glad to know. I guess there’s something of nostalgia, and muscle memory all bundled in there. Nice to catch up on various gossip / the sheer hell Probation has inevitably declined into, and its further forthcoming catastrophes. A splendid evening out!

I’ve become a fan of Brews of the World in Burton on Trent. Originally they were just a terrifyingly well-stocked bottle shop, and have gradually pivoted into being a fine micropub with ten taps. I tried most of them this week, and was particularly taken with this Star Trek themed beer (presumably in honour of the new series on Prime). Very tasty! 

We mostly skipped Valentines Day this year, save for a trip to the cinema and chicken gorging on Sunday afternoon…

Watching: Sex Education season two

If you haven’t started on Netflix’s Sex Education, you really should. Set in a rather nice secondary school (filmed in Wales I believe), featuring a gaggle of horny teenagers learning about sex and relationships, aided by Asa Butterfield and his sex and relationships counsellor mum, Gillian Anderson. The script is impossibly well-written and the performances are pitch perfect all round. This season begins with absolutely cripplingly embarrassing scenes of Asa’s character Otis getting hooked on wanking… It’s hard to make this sound classy, but it actually is. Particularly deserving of attention are Emma Mackey’s Maeve (part time collaborator in Otis’s under-the-table sex ed business) whose very difficult family situation really shines this season. I like them all, though I’m most intrigued by how they found so many characterful and hideous garments for much of the cast to wear. Well played all.

Watching: Parasite

A singularly odd film which has happily scooped up a tonne of awards, Oscars included. Written and directed by Bong Joon Ho, who made the magnificently strange The Host and the future hell of Snowpiercer come to life, and filled with fantastic character actors, including Song Kang-ho who was in both of those aforementioned films. I’d been tipped off about this one months ago by some mates who saw it at festivals and I was thrilled it won awards that ensured a longer run at Cineworld…  Essentially, it’s the tale of a down-on-their-heels family who inveigle their way into the home of an upper class family in a really nice house, by getting their existing staff fired and placing themselves in line… I wouldn’t want to spoil it for anyone, but it turns out they’re not the only “parasites” on the family, though ultimately I imagine you could argue that it’s the wealthy who are parasitic on the rest. Slow, funny, and very, very dark toward the end – I really enjoyed Parasite, though I confess to being slightly perplexed about why it’s being so lauded. I guess if you’ve somehow never seen a non-English movie it’s particularly striking. Watch it!

Doing: Brick by Brick exhibition at Harley Gallery

On Saturday we met up with some dear friends who we spend too little time with (we blame it on their kids, they blame our appalling laziness – let’s call it a draw) to visit the Brick by Brick LEGO exhibition at the Harley Gallery in Worksop. As at previous LEGO shows there, the Harley Gallery spills the exhibits over a couple of floors, giving the magnificent builds room to breathe, and supplying plenty of table space for folks to build their own models (we all did!) A particular highlight is the work of Canadian-Ghanaian artist, Ekow Nimako, who I’d seen popping up on various brick blogs with lovely work, but his entirely black figurines and sculptures inspired by are simply extraordinary in the flesh (plastic). I took a bunch of photographs which all suck because of the highly reflective bricks, but I urge you to check out his website https://ekownimako.com/. There are many other very satisfying and clever builds too, and various LEGO sculptures made out of glass, merged with paintings, large-scale near-interactive pieces, and I finally got to see some of Jason Freeney‘s superb anatomical LEGO sculptures. Art aside, it was a really lovely day out with friends – cheers Silvers!

Jason Freeney’s anatomical minifigure

More popcorn

Bad picture 3, but this is huge!

Bad picture one…

Bricks on canvas

LEGO pop art

LEGO some idiots got upset about

giant ice-creams

Bad picture 2…

Lovely sculptures

Brick popcorn

Bricks dissected

And… I made this.

Here’s a short video on Ekow, featuring a couple of the sculptures at the Harley Gallery. The exhibition is there till the end of April, so get it together! Brick by Brick at the Harley Gallery

Last Week, Sunday 16 February 2020 - a busy week of socialising, LEGO at @harleygallery featuring #ekownimako #LEGO, plus watching @sexeducation & @parasitemovie @botw_burton #moviereview #TVreview Yup, Still Kansas, Just Has More People Looks like I'm slightly ahead, I'm wrapping up last week only a day late.

#art exhibition #Bong Joon Ho #Brick by Brick #Cineworld Nottingham #diary #Ekow Nimako #film review #Friends #Gillian Anderson #Harley Gallery #Jason Freeney #lego #Lego exhibition #LEGO sculpture #Netflix #Nottingham #Parasite #sex education #social life #The Expanse #TV review #Worksop

[thefootballlife]

Europa League Preview - Crvena Zvezda, Partizan and Rijeka find out their fates

Continuing on from our look at the Champions League Group Stage Draw, it's time to do the same for the Europa League - a draw that may not have had as much quality in it as the Champions League, but one that has overdelivered in terms of variety and excitement. Crvena Zvezda (or Red Star Belgrade, if you prefer) How they made it: By beating Irtysh Pavlodar (Kazakhstan), an impressive 3-0 aggregate victory over Sparta Prague and a perhaps even more impressive away goals win over Krasnodar. The Group: Arsenal, Koln, BATE Borisov, Crvena Zvezda The Chances: While Arsenal fans may have immediately gone “who are they” at the Serb European Cup winners, it's worth remembering that that's probably also the sort of person who would take a “Wenger Out” sign on holiday just so they can post “Hey, they even want Wenger out in Marbs!!” on Instagram. The reality is that the group pits two modern western clubs against two of the less desirable Eastern European clubs. And that must be what Crvena Zvezda play up to. No side in the world is going to enjoy a game at a packed Marakana because there will be noise, smoke and general rowdiness. But, more than that lazy stereotype of Serbian football, Crvena Zvezda stand a chance of getting out of the group. BATE Borisov’s days as Champions League regulars are gone and they must be looked at as perhaps the weakest side in the group - in getting past Krasnodar to reach the group stage, Crvena Zvezda have already knocked out a side better than BATE to get here. The real headline is, of course, the match ups vs Arsenal - a true juxtaposition of football as it is now and football as it was then as one of the pre-EPL era’s most decorated European clubs faces the house that Wenger built. Much of this will rely on exactly how seriously Arsenal take the competition - is it the route to the Champions League it was for Manchester United or is it a hindrance on a Thursday as it has been treated by many others. It would be hard to think that Arsenal wouldn't take it seriously and that Wenger wouldn't crave a European trophy in his CV (that, dare I say, might even be the victory to round off his entire career) and, for that, it's hard to see Crvena Zvezda getting much joy from them. However, in Koln, Crvena Zvezda have the weakest German side still in Europe. And, after Freiburg got knocked out of the competition by lowly Domzale, it's fair for Crvena Zvezda to have plenty of reason to believe that they may have a hope against them. The group itself will break down fairly simply - Arsenal will streak ahead leaving three to fight out for the second place. BATE are the weakest of the three which leaves Crvena Zvezda and Koln to realistically try for second. Crvena Zvezda have to take six points at least from their three home games to have a chance - that, plus a win in Belarus, should give them enough to go through or, at least, ensure second place is decided on the head to head between them and Koln. The fixture between Crvena Zvezda and Koln must, therefore, be the vital one - win that by two clear goals and it swings the group to the men from Belgrade. Partizan How they got here: Dropping in to the Europa League after a competitive loss to Olympiakos in Champions League qualifying, they put Videoton to the sword in Hungary to qualify. The Group: Dynamo Kiev, Skenderbeu Korce, Young Boys, Partizan The Chances The Group of Death in the most literal sense. Partizan and Skenderbeu should not have been paired together. Why? Skenderbeu are Albanian, Partizan are Serbian - in between the two nations is Kosovo, the ethnically Albanian statelet that, according to Serbia, doesn't exist. Go to most games in Serbia and you’ll see a “Kosovo is Serbia” sign/flag. Whatever your thoughts on the matter, one side thinks Kosovo is inviolable, the other thinks it doesn't exist at all. And the last time the two nations met in front of a crowd, it resulted in fighting on and off the pitch. It is as politically charged a fixture as could be imagined. UEFA managed to make things even worse by refusing to allow Partizan to play the game in Belgrade first in the group (when their ground is closed anyway) to avoid the inevitable trouble. So, before a ball is kicked, UEFA have already made a massive mistake. Not only that, but Dynamo Kiev and Young Boys is a repeat of a Champions League qualifying tie (Young Boys won on away goals). Oh, and Dynamo Kiev ultras have beef with Albanian sides too over Kosovo and with Serbian sides because, well, most people have some sort of beef with Serbian sides. So, fun all around and Young Boys will probably wonder exactly what they’ve gotten themselves into. On the pitch, if anything that goes on on the pitch is even going to be newsworthy, the story is one of four extremely evenly matched sides. Young Boys and Dynamo Kiev have already shown that in the Champions League where Kiev won 3-1 at home but then lost 2-0 away on the artificial pitch the Swiss play on which has the potential to be a leveller for all sides travelling to the group’s one Western European trip. Partizan dropped out of the Champions League at the same stage as Dinamo Kiev (albeit the Champions Route as opposed to the League Route) losing to Olympiakos, about whom we can draw a line with Young Boys as Young Boys played them in the Group Stages last season (a draw in Greece and loss in Switzerland). Only Skenderbeu don’t have a direct form line with these sides, but having progressed from the first qualifying round of the Europa League and with scalps including Kairat Almaty and Dinamo Zagreb, it’s fair to assume that they are no mugs and will give every side in the group a game. But, in all likelihood, the amount of talk about actual football from the group could be pretty minimal - stupidity, at some point, is almost guaranteed. It’s just a case of when, not if. On merit, on the park, you would probably expect Dynamo, Young Boys and Partizan to separate themselves a little from Skenderbeu who have shown they can be a match for most sides on their day, but to be that over six of them is a much tougher ask. Young Boys are probably favourites to qualify simply because every other side is going to have to adapt to their artificial surface which should give them a solid home record. That would leave a straight fight between Dynamo Kiev and Partizan - investing in Zoran Tosic and a rumoured (if unlikely) loan move for Bojan Krkic shows Partizan’s ambition and they clearly see this group as one where qualification for the knockout stages is eminently achievable. The group will be escapable with 10 points - two wins vs Skenderbeu, a win at home vs Dynamo Kiev and then a point anywhere else. Partizan are capable of that. Rijeka How they got here: Dropped out of the Champions League at the playoff stage after losing on aggregate to Olympiakos but after knocking out TNS of Wales and Red Bull Salzburg The Group: AC Milan, Austria Vienna, AEK Athens, Rijeka The Chances The Croatian Champions and last side from the country in Europe after the other representatives all got knocked out in the playoffs must have broken a few mirrors to get this group. AC Milan are legitimate contenders to win the entire competition and have thrown money at the team this summer to win trophies - No side is likely to get much joy out of them. Austria Vienna have already knocked a Croatian side out of the competition in Osijek who are of a pretty similar standard to this season’s iteration of Rijeka and AEK Athens, similarly to Rijeka, came into the Europa League via the Champions League but a round earlier, having had to navigate past Club Brugge in the Playoff - which they did with surprising ease. It is, quite simply, a horrible group for Rijeka to have landed themselves in and, had they managed to get into the Champions League, it’s arguable they may have faced a less daunting task! Milan will, unsurprisingly, run away with the group and Rijeka’s task will be to hang on to AEK or Austria Vienna and try to sneak second. With last season’s personnel, that may have been achievable, but this isn’t that side and Rijeka still look weaker for the losses over the summer in Andrijasevic and Ristovski having taken so much out of them from an attacking sense. Their aim will be to contain sides and try to grind results out - a tactic which will only get them so far and, in spite of probably being the all-round highest quality side of the three being looked at here, they are also the side with the least chance of doing anything. If Rijeka can get 5 points out of these three sides, they can consider it a job well done.

[makeitlookliketheydidit-blog]

one

GT: I want to tell you about four records that I bought the other day, why I wanted them and how I sampled them. Jesmond Oxfam is a draw, has been ever since I moved. Not sure why it’s so good; sometimes during the summer months a bunch of books that I’d have recommended in lectures turns up, or, even better, books on subjects I’ve taught but not yet acquired or read – that’s how I got my copy of Jay-Z Decoded, complete with its fancy sachet-packaging; I’ve not read it yet.

Yeah, so the section for pop music books often has really good stuff in it, so that tends to be where I head straight away. I’m really interested in recent mainstream pop star biogs at the moment – I’m not even sure why, to be honest; it started out with me searching for Nicki Minaj biographies, but recently I’ve bought one on Tiny Tempah (marketed for a pre-teen readership, I’d guess) and one on Lady Gaga which looks quite good, actually, written by a journalist (Helia Phoenix) whose chief interests are ‘experimental electronica [and] Kevin Smith movies’ according to the fly-leaf bio-note.

I almost never bother with vinyls these, however, although I still predominantly sample from them, usually sourcing from the records I have to hand (I’ve got a few hundred in the house that I acquired for nothing since the rest were carted to Wales for the Armstrong refurb upheaval). Occasionally, though, when the bookshelves have nothing new on them, I do idly flick through whatever is in the ‘New Stock’ section. The other day I did that and I found a handful of LPs by Soul/R&B singers from the ’80s, a period I loosely/lazily refer to as Boogie and Electro Soul. ‘Boogie’ is definitely a term that has become standard of late, maybe always was for people in the know. I absolutely love that moment in African American pop, the period where Hip Hop was rapidly becoming the dominant force and a market evolved for musicians and audiences who still wanted songs (rather than beats & rhymes), but also felt the need not to be left behind in that now-hackneyed post-Disco soundworld of high-cost studio productions replete with large orchestras directed by industry vets. Boogie was also responding to the rise of synth pop, so much of its sound was made up of futuristic arrangements with terse, angular synth-bass lines. I’d love to spend some time trying to investigate how and why the snare drum suddenly became such a preoccupation during this time. I treated myself to Def Leppard’s Hysteria the other day and the same thought occurred to me: those heavily gated, sometimes monster-reverbed snare hits became a synecdoche for ‘80s production’ per se, forever dating the music, yet clearly there was something about them at the time that really turned people on…

Anyway, I actually love this music to listen to for itself, but it’s also currently my favourite source for sampling beats to use in either my solo stuff, or, increasingly in YEAH YOU. When we started out in 2013, our first few weeks’ worth of sessions were extended jams with me on the Microsampler and Elvin (the Ekasilicon) on either a Casio or the Microkorg. Those recordings are insane and, even though they totally didn’t satisfy our needs at the time, they do now have a retrospective charm for all their unbridled chaos. Point is that after a few weeks we settled on the Monotribe + FX formula that has sustained us for most of the time since. Except recently, when we were being asked to play for a full 60 minutes at Borealis, I took the Microsampler on tour to Norway with us so that we’d have a source of material to leap into suddenly should the momentum decrease with the Monotribe/Kaoscillator set-up. It turned out to be a brilliant way of completely altering the vibe mid-set, even mid-song, while opening up the possibility of reference (sometimes ironic) such as the slowed down Calvin Harris/Rihanna ‘We Found Love’ sample we used for Counterflows, which went down well, and the Michael Jackson ‘Don’t Stop Till You Get Enough’ loop with Hip Hop scratches that dominated the Sensational art shop set.

My approach at the moment is very straightforward and is driven simply by the vinyls I happen to have to hand at the moment, namely those Boogie/Electro-Soul records plus a whole bunch of contemporary classical stuff (Classical Avant Garde) mostly by relatively unknown composers from the 70s and 80s who were funded and released either by academic institutions or Arts Council-style state funding; finally, some kind of vocal sample, either my own or from a folk record or something:

• sample a couple of loops from a given song (to provide punctuation, modulation or contrast); these will usually be on adjacent keys, for obvious reasons • on the next couple of keys I’ll bring in something from either the modern classical stuff or voice – the idea being that neither have a groove defined rhythm to interfere with whatever the other loop is

It’s not like it’s even a good method, just a lazy habit born out of having to rush or simple convenience.

All of which as lead-up to actually discussing the samples themselves. I want to tell you about four different grooves, and what kinds of resonance they have with me alongside a historical, contextual continuum that I’ve been a part of as a listener and player since whenever I started.

The first LP I sampled from was this thing by Madleen Kane, Don’t Wanna Lose You (Chalet, 1981). I went for this straight away probably for two reasons: the close-up portrait on the cover was of a white artist – everything else I bought was by black artists, significance being, I guess, that there’d be something slightly over-reaching or off-kilter about a project that tries to pitch a white artist into a very competitive field otherwise dominated by blacks because their audience was either predominantly black or the dance floor; secondly, the name ‘Madleen’ gives you a jolt of Europeanism – European dance music in a black vernacular is always a treat, from a semi-ironic perspective, I’m thinking Black Box, Technotronic, Milli Vanilli, Leila K etc.

So it turns out Madleen Kane was a Swedish model, 5’11” and blonde, who’d been fairly successful in the 1970s and had made the switch to music/Disco quite early on, her first three albums issued on US majors, thus getting industry backing which I guess didn’t pay off too well since her name is nowadays unknown and… her fourth record, this one, was clearly a bid to keep trying but now on an independent label, Chalet (based in California, their 22-release catalogue is almost all Madleen, 1980-82) and produced by a Giorgio Moroder who I guess by this stage was losing momentum?

[breaksandbites]

This was one of the best days of our trip, I have been holding back the urge to jump over and share the detailed happenings of this super adventurous day with you all since so long. This is going to be an extensive post with lots and lots of amazing images from medieval castle to stunning beaches and awe-inspiring, jaw-dropping, spectacular (insert all such adjectives here) landscapes with a bonus video and pictures of closer to nature species. So you better bookmark it for later read in case you are in a hurry (just a suggestion). Don’t miss out the video I have attached at the end of post which has some terrific scenes from our day’s escapades.

Dunedin is a treat to the eyes! Also our accommodation was an archaic site from 1860, let me know if you want to have a look around that place as well, I can share the video of it. So this particular day was one ‘supercalifragilisticexpialidocious’ (this is an english word, trust me); extraordinarily wonderful to put in simple terms. It was all unplanned and everything was coming as a surprise for us, a pleasant one!

Larnach Castle & Grounds

We set out to visit ‘New Zealand’s ONLY castle‘ called The Larnach Castle which was built in 1871. It was later adopted (read purchased) by the Barker family in 1967, who are now responsible for the restoration and conservation of this beautiful historic site. Sharing the magnificent pictures of the whole property, look out for the captions below each image for more details.

The Castle Panorama

The breathtaking scenic drive towards the castle

we were driving through the clouds

The entry gate of the castle

The castle

castle gardens

This was not a huge palace kinda place but this is what New Zealand’s only castle looks like :)

Entering the castle

The Dining Room

Music Room

This painting I am posing with depicts the castle, Otago Harbour And Heads in 1889

This was the ladies drawing room, here ladies took tea and entertained their friends

This is the library where Mr Larnach held court after dinner, entertaining heads of state and his friends

We posing in the tall mirror which is a part of Master Bedroom

This is the North Bedroom on first floor

This was the only washroom on first floor – No attached bathrooms in the castle mannn

The master bed made of original kauri- on the bed is the warming pan, this was filled with hot coals from fire and used to warm the bed. This was a pretty small room with lights coming in from all directions

This is the wedding dress of Constance (3rd wife of William Larnach)

These were her possessions

Some insights about the fashion of that era

Who doesn’t love nice smells!

Mr Larnach with his wife (not sure which one she is out of the three)

This lady was hung at the ceiling in fashion room, was a little creepy :/

The solid kauri and mahogany Staircase leading all the way up to the nursery floor and tower

The baby room

Some statue in Gun room

Tower room that offers amazing view

The gun owned by William Larnach

some more of his weapons

The fireplace in Gun room

The foyer leading to Ballroom

The Ballroom is now turned into a cafe

The view from tower

The gardens spreading at the left side

The beautiful sights from the top

The gardens that welcome you

This is castle view from main garden

I did a live tour of the baronial house on my Facebook page as well, embedding the session below.

The castle is surrounded by lush green gardens. There is a beautiful, well maintained native plant trail in the gardens area that will surely attract you if you are a nature person. We took a stroll around the gardens and loved the serenely peaceful setting. Check out for yourself.

The picturesque setting <3

<3

Some interesting facts about the castle:

The location of the baronial house was chosen by William Larnach and one of his sons when they went for a horse ride along the top of the Otago Peninsula to choose the best site for their home.

The construction of castle began in 1871; it too 200 men and 3 years to build the castle shell.

Master European craftsmen spent a further 12 years embellishing the interiors.

It is built in Gothic Revival architecture and holds the crown of New Zealand’s only castle.

It was initially built for William Larnach’s beloved first wife Eliza but the possessions of Constance (third wife of Willaim Larnach) are displayed in the boudoir.

Materials from all over the world were used – marble from Italy, slate from Wales, floor tiles from England, glass from Venice and France. Many New Zealand native woods were also used – kauri ceilings, rimu floors and honeysuckle panelling.

William Larnach took his own life in the New Zealand Parliament Buildings in 1898.

50 years have been passed since the restoration and innovation work has begun. And it is still in progress.

The Gardens of castle are home to 17 species of plants that are found nowhere else.

The melodic call you hear as you take a stroll along the gardens is from a native bellbird.

The castle is now one of the top tourist attractions of Dunedin.

After touring the majestic castle and it’s grounds we headed towards an unknown destination. Since, nothing was planned we just drove around the breathtaking peninsula until we arrived at some residential area. We stopped by a grocery store, bought some bottles of milk since it was the only option available for lunch. Yes, there are no petrol pumps on the peninsula as well so go well prepared if you are planning to. We grabbed a map from the salesgirl and decided to check out Allan’s Beach.

Allan’s Beach

It was an isolated beach, literally at the end of road and on top of that there was no proper access to the beach. We crossed some fences of private properties in order to reach the shore and woahh there was a huge fur seal lying in the only passageway to the beach. We tried to bypass Mr. or Mrs. Seal by attempting to go through the long bushes but it was too difficult to manage E in one hand and keep an eye on the seal from the corners while crossing those wilderness. We gave up the idea and waited for sometime in hopes that the lazy creature will go towards the sea on its own but it didn’t. So we turned back and left the place without even touching the waves :( . The beach must be bee-you-tea-full mannn, I can tell that from the limited views we got to witness during that encounter. Have a look at the pictures and decide for yourself :)

The beach and fur seal, amazing view

It moved a little but the path remained blocked

Otago peninsula’s views

Check out this lazy bum, it was hugeee

in love with this sight <3

The fence we crossed, it was a private property.

Royal Albatross Centre & Reserve

We then turned the car and moved towards Pilots Beach, another end of the peninsula where the subject centre is located. I didn’t know that Albatross is the name of a bird until we entered the place.

Upon enquiring we got to know that they have built this reserve to protect the endangered Royal Albatross colony. They conduct tours to the colony where you can see the eggs, babies, male and female albatrosses. We were also told that you can catch albatrosses soaring in the sky from outside but only if the wind is blowing at its top knots. It was not too windy outside when we entered the reserve but still we were not quite interested in spending money on a birds’ tour. So we decided against it.

Small penguins also emerge there at the beach around sunset but we were not keen about those as well since we already had experienced that earlier at Philip island in Australia. We enjoyed a cup of coffee at the cafe and resolved to take a walk along the sea shore before heading back towards Dunedin.

My battery charger!

The centre from inside

Peek-a-boo

The average wingspan of royal albatross is about 2.9 – 3.3 m :o

They were offering tours of this disappearing gun too, we were least interested in it… lol

As we stepped out of the reserve, the wind was blowing very fast to our utter astonishment. As a result of which we were able to observe Albatrosses flying high in the sky. It was a treat to spot them, every other bird was getting unstable in their flight but the albatrosses were kissing the sky like a boss!

The part of beach where albatrosses were flying, we spotted some lazy fur seals at the rocks too.

That’s an albatross flying like a boss!

This is a picture of ‘picture of Albatross’ :p

From here we proceeded towards the basin of beach with the thoughts that we’ll just take a quick walk and will then drive back to the city. But we spent more than an hour in that section, you know why? We encountered some more lazy bums i.e. fur seals relaxing and napping over the rocks as soon as we walked down the stairs.  And that was not it, we saw 2 fur seals fighting with each other as we advanced a little more. That was a sight to see, the day was going super awesome until now and their combat made it more adventurous and enthralling. Ahhmazzing experience! :D Check out the pictures below and video at the end to catch some of the glimpses of that deadly war ;)

The Fight!

Stairs leading towards the beach

A lazy seal relaxing

Pilot’s beach

Such an awesome sight :)

I made HI run towards the car to bring my power bank so that I could conduct a live session of the crazy atmosphere. Attaching the session below:

Finally we got settled in the car and progressed towards city centre with smiles on our faces. E also had a great time spotting and watching those seals. We had zero expectations from the day’s excursions but everything we came across was just purrfect. It was one of those days when every piece of puzzle falls in its place on it’s own!

But the day can’t end without having food, right? We were starving by the time we entered the city. We initially thought to try the shawarma from the same place we had turkish tea the day before and while searching for the cafe we bumped into this Indian restaurant named Little India, located inside the Octagon which serve halal food. Our day was made, What else can we ask for! The scrumptious desi style food was the perfect ending to our super awesome day.

Just look at this killer biryani and that soft fluffy naan <3

And this is the video I have made out of the so-less video clips we recorded during the day. Watch in 4K or HD.

This was it about our lovely kinda sensational day. Behold! this is just the beginning, the upcoming couple of days are of the same nature. We were bowled out by the beauty of New Zealand totally. So watch out for more interesting posts from this beautiful part of the world as we set out to explore some more hidden gems in this ‘Trip of Lifetime’ series.

Stay tuned! :)

Outstanding Otago Peninsula – Trip of Lifetime Day 13 This was one of the best days of our trip, I have been holding back the urge to jump over and share the detailed happenings of this super adventurous day with you all since so long.

#Albatross flying #Albatross wings span #Allan&039;s beach #chicken #desi food in dunedin #discover new zealand #dunedin #facts about larnach castle #halal food in dunedin #Larnach castle #Larnach gardens #Little india dunedin #New Zealand #only castle in New Zealand #Otago peninsula #Pilots beach #Royal Albatross Centre #Royal Albatross centre and reserve #Seals beach #seals fight #Seals on beach #south New Zealand #Tour of larnach castle #Travel #traveling #waterfront