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10 Best Beach Staycation Destinations in the UK Making plans for a summer trip to the British coast? If you're looking for the best beaches, coastal towns, and things to do in England and Wales, here are some of the best destinations in the UK for a staycation. https://www.soovy.club/blog/best-beach-staycation-destinations-uk-england-wales
#Beach staycations UK#Coastal towns in England#Best beaches in Wales#Staycation destinations#UK beach holiday ideas#Coastal getaways in England#Affordable beach vacations UK#Best seaside towns in the UK#Beach holiday destinations in England#Top coastal destinations in Wales#Best beach staycations in the UK#Seaside staycations UK#Family beach holidays UK#travel#uk#united kingdom#england#wales#scotland
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Wales & Anglesey 2023
#my photos#I love wales!!!!#it is so beautiful#all the deep greens and blues#all the castles and beaches and mountains#and the amazingly lovely people#it's just the best#💙💙💙#spot the me!#wales#anglesey#photography#minnie the amateur photographer#minnie talks#I'll post some england pics later!
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we should rename all the Australian states. current names do NOT fuck even remotely
#republic WHEN#two basically just named 'the queen' and every other one is 'australia but up/down/to the left#to name the place with the best beaches in the world 'new south wales'? SICK#also. colonialism 📉📉📉#new money new flag new names/OLD names please
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Engeland-Wales - camping Smugglers Cove Boatyard
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#10 x de mooiste campings aan zee in wales#17 Amazing Campsites in Wales Near Beaches#autovakantie Wales#Best campsites in Wales with sea views#camper vakantie Wales#campingblog Wales#campings aan de kust in Wales#Campsites near the beach in Wales#Discover the 20 best beach campsites in Wales#Discover the best beach camping in Wales#hidden Wales#reisblog Wales#reisblogger Wales#Reiseblog Wales#reiseblogger Wales#secret Wales#Spectacular Coastal Campsites in Wales#vakantie in Wales
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On the road with the inexhaustible Princess Anne
8am 800 miles travelled, 12pm 650 hands shaken, 9pm 0 cups of tea drunk
By Hannah Furness, 9 May 2024
The Princess Royal is standing up a 42ft tower, looking out to sea in a north-westerly force six wind. Her hair, that neat up-do that has barely changed in 40 years, does not move, even as a sudden gust blows a seagull past her eyeline.
‘It’s quite exposed,’ she says, with understatement, then gets on with peppering her hosts with questions about tides, volunteer timetables and what precisely the diggers on the beach below are doing.
Outside the watchtower, her arrival in the Lancashire seaside town of Fleetwood has caused the smallest of stirs. A handful of curious dog-walkers gaze at her, camera-phones aloft, and she offers them a brief wave.
Inside, the volunteers of the National Coastwatch Institution (NCI) could not be more excited for a visit from their royal patron. The chairman, Stephen Hand, launches into a stream of compliments about the Princess’s work. ‘If I haven’t made the point clearly enough,’ he finishes, ‘we love her.’
This is her first engagement in a day that will see her travel 421 miles from Gloucestershire to Lancashire, then Merseyside, and back again via helicopter and Range Rover. It is one of 10 engagements in this typical week; she will complete about 450 this year.
‘She’s a dynamo,’ says the CEO of The Pony Club. ‘The best president imaginable,’ agrees the chairman of Carers Trust. ‘She should be queen,’ offers a member of the public. This is said at least once a day.
Not for nothing does she have the reputation as Britain’s hardest-working royal. In numbers of engagements, she and the King vie for the top spot each year. While he and the Princess of Wales have taken time off from public engagements to undergo cancer treatment, the 73-year-old Princess Royal has ploughed on with her head down, her work the definition of ‘unsung’.
Most of the time, that is how she likes it. She has eschewed the ‘rota’ system of journalists, photographers and broadcasters who cover her family’s outings. ‘I don’t go for their benefit,’ she once said of the press. ‘I go for the people who ask me.’
This week, in the middle of April, she has made an exception to grant vanishingly rare permission for The Telegraph to follow her on the road, for a snapshot of her work.
At no small effort from her close-knit team, which has accommodated me in its nomadic office, I have been allowed to document her encounters with the approximately 650 people she has met, the many charities and organisations she has put in the spotlight – and report from inside a Windsor Castle investiture for the first time.
I’ve spent seven years writing about the Royal family, travelling across the UK and the world to watch them at work, but Princess Anne’s no-fuss, no-frills team is unlike anything I’ve seen up close before. Professional and precise, she barely stops – every hand is shaken and every minute counts.
The Plan
The Princess’s diary is set months in advance. Twice a year, her office sends an invitation to 300-plus organisations she is affiliated with, asking for their requests for her time. Typically she’ll receive 1,000 to 1,200 requests a year – some suggest a visit, others ask her to write forewords to books, or ask for meetings. All are compiled into a database, arranged by date and region, and printed neatly in a book for the Princess to study. ‘[She] goes through everything required and decides what she’s going to do and when,’ says a member of the team. A planning meetings follows – and ‘once [the programme is] set, she sticks to it’.
Across the year, the Princess Royal travels the width and breadth of the United Kingdom
Her staff then go through it again to add last-minute audiences into the gaps. ‘The week is there to be filled,’ one long-serving team member tells me. ‘If she’s got a free hour and a half in London, we’ll look again to see what else to add.’
The Princess’s team is small but mighty. There’s her private secretary, Colonel John Boyd, who is fresh from 32 years in the British Army; her deputy private secretary, Commander Anne Sullivan (the double Annes occasionally cause confusion for outsiders); as well as five programme managers tasked with ironing out the exact schedule, right down to how long the Princess can spend talking to each person.
They are aided by 13 ladies-in-waiting, spread geographically, who accompany her out and about. Some of her first, who began working with her in the early 1970s, have only just retired.
‘You never quite know what she’s going to say yes to, but it’s never an outright no,’ says the long-serving team member of her schedule. ‘She’s probably been to more industrial estates than any other royal.
Monday - Estimated miles travelled - 0 (worked from home)
Hands shaken - 8
‘It’s a balance of what do the organisations want, what could she hear or learn or teach here? Every day is a school day where the Princess is concerned.’
At Gatcombe Park, her Gloucestershire home, the Princess’s assistant, Donna, welcomes a small group of eight smartly dressed representatives from the Royal Dairy Innovation Award with a cup of tea and a biscuit.
The Princess joins them once they are settled, in a homely barn conversion with framed seascapes on the walls. She reassures them that it’s ‘not going to be one of those formal events’, then starts grilling them about the Nova Scotian dairy industry and on-shore salmon farming.
Ash Amirahmadi OBE, winner of the prestigious Princess Royal Award, is there to officially collect the certificate honouring his leadership in the dairy industry. Afterwards, when the private engagement has sunk in, he tells me: ‘We had practised our formalities but she immediately put us at ease.
‘I was thinking, “How does she know this stuff, and how does she remember?” I come across eminent scientists and business leaders and not many have a better understanding of the food system than the Princess Royal.’
Ash Amirahmadi, the winner of this year’s Princess Royal Award, pictured with the Princess Royal
Before he leaves, the Princess tells him that she’ll be in touch to sign him up to deliver a speech at a conference next year.
She fits in a horse ride, dodging the worst of the day’s rain and hail she feared could be ‘painful’.
‘There’s no such thing as bad weather,’ she says later, with satisfaction. ‘Only inappropriate clothing.’
Tuesday - Estimated miles travelled - 421
Hands shaken - 200+
In Fleetwood, the wind whips across the sandy beach and the Princess Royal doesn’t flinch. She is there with a handful of volunteers from the NCI, celebrating its 30th anniversary. With an average age of 69, these are the local ‘eyes and ears’ that saved 22 people from trouble in the water last year by raising the alarm.
After a turn with the telescope, the Princess – wearing a navy-blue coat, colourful silk scarf and (the now famous) wraparound sunglasses – reaches the top of the Rossall Point Observation Tower, which looks out over Morecambe Bay, where conditions can be treacherous.
The Princess Royal inspects the Rossall Point Observation Tower
‘It really is extraordinary,’ she says. ‘Classically people say the sea is never the same, but in a place like this it really never is the same. The seasons, the bird life, the activity…’ Everyone nods.
This visit, it emerges, has little in common with most royal engagements, where guests of honour hear how things work. This has more of an air of a diligent business manager checking in on a regional branch. Nothing needs explaining to the Princess, a keen sailor and lighthouse aficionado, and she wins the approval of what could be a tough crowd with on-the-money observations about tide timings.
She speaks sparingly. Questions and remarks are formed from one or two words: ‘Since?’ ‘Previous experience?’ ‘Quite handy.’ She has a reply to everything, having travelled every inch of Britain in the line of duty.
John Bradford, who at 77 is the longest-serving volunteer, waits on the tower to shake her hand, but he is accidentally missed. The Princess is swept on to the next part of the engagement, presenting long-service awards and meeting 25 more volunteers in the nearby Marine Hall, accompanied by her new lady-in-waiting Dolly Maude, a midwife and friend of Zara Tindall who wastes no time in charming the room.
When her team discover someone has been missed out, they tell the Princess directly and Mr Bradford is whisked into the very last line-up.
‘I’m very glad you made it in,’ the Princess tells him, spending an extra few moments in conversation.
Then, plaque and certificate duties completed, she disappears to a back room where sandwiches are on offer. Ten minutes later, she’s back on the road.
It is a cliché that the Royal family thinks the world smells of fresh paint. The ground floor of the watchtower was drained of flood water shortly before the Princess’s arrival and the corridors at her next engagement in Merseyside have the distinct smell of bleach – but at the Wrea Green Equitation Centre in Preston, it is quite the opposite: a muck heap has been left intact. The hosts deem futile any attempts to fool the Princess into thinking it didn’t exist. She is, after all, a life-long equestrian.
She arrives on time; I do not. Without a helicopter, it’s impossible to keep up with her formidable itinerary.
Skipping the champagne reception and tea party, put on to celebrate 25 years of the Pony Club Centre Membership Scheme, the Princess instead strides around the yard watching the young riders and their parade of ponies.
She tours the stables and classrooms, chatting to children about horse massage and how side-saddle is still relevant for people with prosthetic legs, then she holds a presentation of commemorative plaques to 20 proprietors, each of whom has a different chat with her.
When a ‘naughty pony’ in a stable behind her unties itself to join the royal party, she is entirely unfazed.
‘She didn’t mind a bit,’ says Marcus Capel, CEO of The Pony Club – she simply carries on talking while stroking the pony’s ears.
The third engagement of the day: Sefton Carers Centre at Waterloo in Merseyside, which supports unpaid carers. Some of those assembled remember the Princess from 30 years ago, when she opened the centre. She is back to celebrate the anniversary.
Wearing a red jacket that looks strikingly similar to the one she was wearing back then (only the length and buttons are different), she hails a stream of people with a cheerful, ‘I haven’t seen you for a while,’ and, ‘This has changed a bit.’
The Princess Royal visits the Sefton Carers Centre to celebrate its 30th anniversary
Everyone is assembled in horseshoe shapes – her preferred arrangement for talking – and she ploughs on with gloved handshakes, getting through five large rooms of people. Among them are two men in their 90s who care for their wives with dementia, an eight-year-old girl in a wheelchair dressed as a princess, and teenagers who look after siblings and parents before and after school.
Some are nervous; a few curtseys are a little shaky. The Princess has a neat trick: her questions get more specific – no opinions are required, just short, easy-to-recall facts, to help ease them in. ‘Where do you live?’ ‘How long have you been coming here?’
Her own opinions are brief, delivered as common sense. On hearing that GPs don’t see the same families from cradle to grave any more, so find it difficult to support carers, the Princess says: ‘That’s part of the way people live their lives.’
She spends a few extra moments talking to the building’s cleaner, loudly declaring her ‘very important’. When one woman jokes about her long service, adding, ‘I think my face shows it,’ the Princess does an exaggerated double-take and says, ‘I’m sure that’s not true.’
She has another habit, shared with King Charles, of ending engagements by turning back for one last comment, leaving the impression she wishes she could stay.
The Princess Royal cuts the cake, on the promise it will be eaten
Downstairs, she unveils her third plaque of the day. There is a celebratory cake on the table in front of her and an expectant crowd waiting. She takes control of the moment. ‘You want the cake cut? On the basis that you’re going to eat it? Otherwise it’s just vandalism.’
Before she leaves, she is presented with a large rose planter. ‘Oh my word, a monster!’ she marvels. ‘What a lovely thing… I hope the helicopter can cope.’
By the end of the day, in small heels and with the briefest of breaks, she has spoken to at least 250 people. If she’s flagging, it doesn’t show.
Wednesday - Minutes of continuous conversation - 180
Hands shaken - 140
At 11 o’clock in Windsor Castle, Yeomen of the Guard stand on duty in the Grand Reception Room, as the Countess of Wessex’s String Orchestra plays quietly. The Princess Royal moves into position, wearing naval uniform, and the orchestra strikes up with God Save the King. Standing on a dais, a red velvet stool placed in front of her, she is ready for a full day of investitures.
The Princess is one of only three members of the family who perform them and while the King and the Prince of Wales have been needed at home, she has been carrying the load.
Some 140 people will receive an honour today, among them Paul Hollywood, who is being made an MBE. The pair discussed the smells of baking, he says later. ‘She loves Chelsea buns. I did promise her some so I’m not quite sure how I’m going to sort it out.’
The Great British Bake Off judge Paul Hollywood was among those honoured by the Princess Royal
Diana Parkes, a domestic violence campaigner who has worked with Queen Camilla in memory of her daughter, is made a CBE. She finds immediate common ground with the Princess via a family member who sold her horses.
One of the large team that makes the investitures happen tells me quietly that ‘you can always tell when it’s HRH’ on duty, because the day takes longer.
In theory, the Princess has her deputy private secretary on hand to jog her memory with details about people as the Lord Chamberlain announces each name. In practice, says a long-serving aide, she sends investiture notes back with her own comments about where she has met people before and which of her patronages they have links to. This is the case ‘95 per cent of the time’.
‘She’s got such a great brain. We often hear, “You must have briefed her really well,” but no, it’s all her. She makes it very easy in that respect.’ As each encounter winds up with a brisk handshake, recipients walk backwards to bow – desperate to get it right before rejoining their watching families. The Princess smiles at each one like they could not have performed it better.
After the 90-minute session has overrun slightly, she takes lunch in the private apartments before repeating it all in the afternoon.
Thursday - Core working hours - 9
Hands shaken - 250+
London’s Guildhall. The Princess Royal arrives via train for The Lord Mayor’s Big Curry Lunch, a City fundraiser for military veterans which has raised more than £3.3 million since it began in 2008.
To walk in as an outsider is to enter a new world where London’s livery companies (guilds dating back to medieval times) line the corridors with stalls – the Worshipful Companies of Bakers, Fruiterers, Gardeners, Pewterers and Framework Knitters are all there.
The Princess has no entourage, only her protection officers and one lady-in-waiting. She does not bat an eyelid at being escorted in by members of The Company of Pikemen & Musketeers, who wield weapons from the Charles I era and take their roles seriously.
Guests are an eclectic mix – a pearly queen mingles with barristers and bankers, alongside the military. An injured veteran in his mid-30s tells me: ‘In the Army, I’ve often been in front of high-ranking people who don’t care what you have to say at all… She’s different.’
Michael Hockney, co-chairman of the event, says the Princess is ‘very well-known and popular in the City because she’s involved in the livery movements’.
The Princess Royal greets the traders at London's Guildhall
Lunch is served on long tables. The Princess sits with servicemen and women, eating from an identical plate piled with chicken tikka masala, prawn malai, dal, rice and mango chutney.
Ballanupalli Sainath Rao, executive chef, asks if she remembers her last visit, in 2015, when she said she knew the factory of the company supplying the food and thought they could offer more variety than chicken every year. ‘Two meats and three vegetables,’ she suggested. Chef Rao added the prawn dish on that advice. ‘We had a lot of compliments.’
The Princess is plied with goodie bags, including matching socks for her and Vice Admiral Sir Tim Laurence, her husband. On her way out, she views a small garden with artwork by children from forces families and inspects a stall from the Worshipful Company of Fishmongers (est 1272); the stallholders have been hastily restocking ice and swatting away flies as they wait in the sunshine.
‘She was saying it’s great to see the array of fish,’ fishmonger Andrew Kenny explains afterwards. ‘She asks really precise questions… It’s very disarming.’
Climbing into a waiting car, the Princess tells the organisers: ‘[I’m] not causing too much chaos, I hope.’ And then she’s off – next stop Buckingham Palace.
At 7pm, the Princess Royal walks through the ‘secret door’, disguised as a mirror and cabinet, which links the Palace’s private rooms to the White Drawing Room, a State Room with a gold piano, familiar from some of the late Queen Elizabeth II’s Christmas broadcasts. Tonight, she is hosting a black-tie dinner to celebrate The Duke of Edinburgh’s Commonwealth Study Conferences, which bring together future leaders to address pressing problems facing the world. In particular, she is saluting the Canadian team, which has led the way in hosting the conferences and keeping her father’s vision alive.
The Princess Royal enters Buckingham Palace's White Drawing Room via the secret door.
Wearing a long skirt and sequinned jacket in red to match the Canadian flag, she carries a handbag under her arm and wears her late mother’s three-strand pearls. Unlike other royals, the Princess’s team won’t confirm to the press what exactly she is wearing. One suspects anyone who asked would get short shrift.
She spends roughly an hour in the Picture Gallery, working her way through a crowd. One guest tells her of her memories of a drinks reception with the late Queen and Prince Philip on Britannia, during their visit to Ontario in 1984. Asking another about their trip to London, she agrees that walking is the best way to get around, although ‘not at this time of night and dressed like this’.
Ahead of a dinner of poached citrus salmon salad, roasted lamb, and crème brûlée with poached rhubarb, the Princess delivers an eight-minute speech. At one time, she is said to have written every speech herself. Nowadays, she often works from prepared notes, which she edits ruthlessly with liberal red pen strokes and capital letters.
The conferences, she says, were ‘envisioned by my late father, but I suspect he never thought it would last this long.
The Princess Royal greets guests at the Duke of Edinburgh's Commonwealth Study Conferences dinner.
‘At the moment, in these rather difficult times – post-Covid and just generally complicated – it’s just as important to have the ability to bring people together across the widest possible range.’
The Princess will stay on for dinner, sitting at a round table and entertaining guests until long after sundown.
Friday - Minutes on feet presenting honours - 90
Hands shaken - 79
Friday morning and the Princess is back at it with an investiture. There are 79 people this time, with their families, in the Throne Room at Buckingham Palace.
Neil Constable, former CEO of Shakespeare’s Globe, is here to receive his OBE for services to theatre. He says afterwards that the ‘professional’ Princess knew the brief so well that she could make conversation about both his previous job and his next, at The Musicians’ Company. She told him she had just been to the Guildhall that week for the Big Curry Lunch, adding, ‘You’ll have a great time with them.’
‘You leave thinking, wow, actually we had a really good conversation,’ he says. ‘We talked about her late father Prince Philip being a long-standing patron of the Globe and how some of the timber from the Globe came from Windsor Great Park’, donated by Prince Philip.
‘[She] made it a very special day.’
At this point, I close the notebook that clocks in at 84 pages of shorthand. Everyone – kindly, warmly, generously – is saying the same thing, and we have run out of superlatives. The job, too, must get repetitive but you would never know it. In continually asking questions, the Princess has found a way to keep interested even after all these decades.
Princess Anne salutes at the conclusion of a commissioning ceremony aboard HMCS Max Bernays as part of Fleet Week, in North Vancouver, B.C
She treats her work as a ‘nine-to-five job’, one Palace source tells me. ‘Except it doesn’t often finish at five.’ I have barely seen her sit and haven’t seen her accept a single cup of tea while working.
The week after we meet, the Princess will be in Windsor, Shropshire, Cambridgeshire, London and Cornwall. After that, she will go from the Royal Windsor Horse Show to Canada for a three-day trip with Sir Tim.
She will be 75 next year but shows no sign of slowing down. I am half her age – and after barely a week of trying to keep up with her, I’m off for a lie down.
Weekly total
Estimated miles travelled - 818
Hands shaken - 677+
#a fascinating insight in the princesses week#i love articles like this#matching socks for her and her hubby#that curry plate sounds delicious 🤤#hardest working royal 🫡#princess anne#princess royal
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Any Mclennon tooth rotting Fluff recommendations?
Sometimes, tooth-rotting fluff is the only acceptable way to be. Here are some stories I love.
Early Days Fluff
One after 909 (@beatlessideblog). Extra to the epic, brilliant, perfectly realized, actually, physically heartwarming, big fat novel-length comfort fic of eternity, I Need You Darlin (So Come Go With Me). 1960. Paul and Mike come back from a visit to Wales. John awaits them at the train station.
You Really Got A Hold on Me (@beatlessideblog). Another INYD extra. Paul comforts John after a nightmare.
Trés bien ensemble (@javelinbk). Paul is trying to be enigmatic and French. He manages to pull John.
Hamburg Fluff (it's possible!)
A Time and Place (poetofstarlight). Dazzling lyricism and sweet banter amidst the early morning grime.
after bombardment, sonya (inherownwrite). Paul and John share a bath.
Could I have this dance? (@ohjohnnysblog). Paul loses a bet and dances with John. What starts as a joke becomes...the sweetest thing.
Paris Fluff (bien sur!)
A touch can mean so much (@saint-mona). 1961. Hot and gorgeous early morning sex.
I Don't Care too Much (@notgrungybitchin). 1961. John does his best to be Paul's sugar daddy.
Stop. Don't Stop. (HerSpecialAgent005). 1966 Paris deserves some love, too! A classic for a reason.
Mop Top Fluff
One Sweet Dream (@pie-of-flames). Paul wakes up hard and dripping after a dirty dream of John. They're in a hotel room with the other two. They need to be quiet. Porn with feelings!
Don't Think About It (@merseydreams). Technically early days until the beginning of fame, with a dash of Paris. Paul and John are adorable and oblivious throughout...! Paul POV.
Slow Dancing (@ohjohnnysblog). John and Paul find a private moment to slow-dance on the beach. I Only Have Eyes for You...
Christmas Fluff
Let your heart be light (@backbenttulips). 1967. John and Paul spend the run-up to Christmas together. Everything is as it should be.
Can you still love me tomorrow? (ImagineBeatles) Modern AU/Fake Dating.
Psychedelic Era (hot) Fluff
Again (@scurator). 1967. John and Paul make love. Again and again. God Only Knows.
tune me up and turn me out (@pauls1967moustache). John and Paul are horny and in love.
70's Fluff
February in New Orleans (@eveepe). John and May visit Paul and Linda. "Fluff" might be a bit of a reach, but...a very loving foursome ensues.
80's/ AU fluff
This Year's for Me and You (@skylikeaflame). Paul and John finally get together
take the shape my body makes (@backbenttulips). Old marrieds John and Paul have sex in a sex shop after watching very...interesting porn.
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— 1D Monthly Fic Roundup —
Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for October 2024! Below you’ll find 1D fics that were all published this month. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup. You can find all our other posts here.
Happy reading!
* Impactful by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou [T, 2k, Louis/Harry]
Having “packs” sort of belonged to the past, but it wasn’t entirely unheard of to move in with a bunch of friends as adults. It was practical in many ways: there would almost always be somebody home to receive packages, they could divvy up the house work and share living costs, they would always have friends around and if any of them had children, their aunties and uncles could look after them!
So. It wasn’t unheard of. But it was definitely a thing they would be called hippies for. In fact, almost all of them had already been called hippies and weirdos for it.
* Travel Blog Entry #28 by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou [G, 89 words, Harry/Louis]
Harry and Louis return home from a holiday. The last post on their travel blog is this poem.
* Hold Me Like A Grudge by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou [G, 890 words, Louis/Harry]
You can press your lips to someone’s skin and know this is the last time.
* And Now I'm Falling For You by @enchantedlandcoffee [T, 711 words, Harry/Louis]
“What did you do?!” Louis exclaimed as he waded out of the water, Harry hot on his heels. “I tried to save you! You know, this is the part where you tell me I’m your hero, and then you-” “And then I what, Styles? Shower you with kisses? Get a freaking grip, Harry. We’re not in one of your ‘old-school musicals’ with cheesy background music and full on choreographed dancing! This is reality and you just ruined my chances of riding one of the biggest waves the town had ever seen!” “Well, I’m sorry for not wanting to watch my best friend drown because he was too stubborn to admit that the bloody sea was too dangerous for him to surf in.” “That’s not what was happening and you know it.”
OR Snapshots of A Teen Beach Movie Larry AU with a twist
* I regret you all the time by @disgruntledkittenface [E, 3k, Louis/William Prince of Wales]
Louis’ friends don’t understand, and they wouldn’t even if he explained. But every time William texts, Louis drops everything to go see him.
* I'm the Big Fish by @lululawrence [NR, 5k, Louis/Pedro Pascal]
Pedro laughed with the man in front of him who… oh god. Was that Oscar Isaac? Louis wasn’t going to survive if he was left in this room with those two for long. He should probably make his exit, except then Pedro started doing some sort of freestyle it looked like while Oscar cheered him on. Louis couldn’t help but chuckle and was trying to hide his smile as he watched on when Pedro turned and looked directly at Louis, freezing when he did so.
After an awkward moment at a party he wasn't actually invited to, Louis keeps running into the incredibly attractive Pedro Pascal. Somehow, it's Pedro who manages to keep making a fool of himself, causing Louis to grow increasingly more confused at his behavior while also feeling more drawn to him. Maybe someday they'll be able to manage a moment that doesn't end in one of them feeling the need to run from the room in order to escape the other.
* Glammer, Top Hats, Cigars and Suits by @rockstarlwt28 [NR, 3k, Louis/Dominic Harrison | Yungblud]
Based in the 1920s - Alternate Universe.
When Isla found a love for the melody formed by a strumming of strings, Louis didn't expect to fall equally in love with his daughter’s guitar teacher, Dominic Harrison.
* Bouncing off the Wall by @signofcomfort [G, 34k, Louis/Harry]
Harry Styles is Louis' self-declared enemy, but it doesn't help that they are neighbours and their families are friends.
* Spirits by itsraininginengland / @ilovellama14 [E, 4k, Louis/Oscar Isaac]
A one shot set in and Edwardian music hall. Prompt from and written for the Louis rarepair fest. This was a challenge and a pleasure to write.
Edwardian music hall performer Louis Tomlinson meets the newest act in the show, the American magician Oscar Isaac. Romance, smut and a seance ensue. Also featuring best friend wing man Harry Styles.
* That's Happiness To Me by @louislittletomlintum [E, 24k, Zayn/Liam/Louis]
“Seems we’ve got a little conundrum on our hands,” Louis murmured into Zayn’s ear, feeling his hands settle back on his waist and pressing a little closer.
“Mm. Seems we do,” Zayn responded, and Louis liked to think his voice was at least a bit intrigued.
Louis’ mind was whirring. He’d wanted to try and get with Liam tonight, but now a new, better idea was forming. Getting Liam with Zayn, if possible, would be something of a dream come true. It would maybe blow Liam’s tiny brain, but sometimes you had to make sacrifices for good things to happen.
“Do you wanna try pull him together?” Louis asked Zayn curiously, grinning against his skin when he felt his hands grip tighter.
* It’s a Craving Not a Crush by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28 [E, 9k, Liam/Louis]
All around him, his coworkers have started pulling out their chosen lunches. And Liam does the same, reaching down to the backpack at his feet and pulling out the Tupperware of leftover spaghetti he’d packed this morning.
When he sets it on the table he notices a little neon pink post it note on the lid that he didn’t remember being there before. Written on the note in messy scrawl it says: Have a wonderful day husband! Can’t wait to suck you off when you get home!! XOXO -Lou.
Liam feels his face go bright red again as he hastily rips off the note and crumples it in his fist. He glances around the table, but thankfully no one seems to be paying him any attention. They’re all wrapped up in their own food items or listening to whatever their boss is talking about.
(Or the one where Liam and Louis are best bros who end up getting married so that Liam has the insurance he needs to go to rehab. Now that he’s sober, they can get divorced. But do they want to?)
- Fic Fests -
* 1D Alpha Louis Fest / @1dalphalouisfest / Masterpost
Fics that involve Alpha Louis Tomlinson
* 1D Flower Fest / @1d-flower-fest / Masterpost
A fest dedicated to inspiring fics and artwork about flowers in the 1D fandom.
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Sam!!! I need a tiny sneak peak(preferably hinny centered) of the next Selcouth chapter!!!!! I will combustttt
Chapter Two: The Pregnancy
Harry made his way into the parlor to see Sirius sitting by the fire with a crossword. He looked up from his paper, his eyebrows raising. Harry didn’t really want to talk about his awful date, but he knew there was zero chance his godfather wouldn’t prod him about it. There was no good way to say that he had been thinking about another girl while out with a different girl.
“I’m assuming your date was horrible if you’re home by nine,” he commented, peering at Harry over the tops of his reading glasses.
Harry sighed, collapsing down onto the sofa across from his godfather. “You could say that.”
“What was wrong with her?” Sirius asked, setting the crossword and his reading glasses onto the table beside him.
“Nothing was wrong with her,” Harry replied with a sigh, running his fingers through his hair. “Just not what I was looking for.”
“All right, spill,” Sirius said, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ve been all mopey for a while now.”
Harry winced, hitting his head against the back of the sofa. “Nothing is wrong.”
“I’m not bloody blind, kid,” Sirius said flatly. “Are you regretting going into pediatrics?”
Harry snapped his head to look at his godfather. “What? No! My job is like the only good thing in my life right now.”
Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Come on, Harry. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Harry sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. Sirius wasn’t romantic, at all. He wouldn’t understand the spark of chemistry Harry had felt when he met Ginny. It wasn’t like he could tell his bloody godfather of all people that he had the best sex of his life with her either. No other girl seemed to hold a candle to Ginny. She was funny, bright, kind, and beautiful. For weeks, he had woken up from wet dreams about her and even wanked to her countless of times since he arrived back home.
He felt ridiculous with his inability to stop thinking about a one-night stand. He’d never see her again. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t even know where to start looking. There’s no way she’d leave England, not being a footballer. A footballer that Harry couldn’t find despite pulling up rosters from every single team in Wales. Harry concluded she had lied for some reason. He couldn’t fault her for that. Harry had lied too after all.
“Harry,” Sirius pressed.
“No, you’ll just make fun of me,” Harry replied, doubling down.
Sirius rolled his eyes. “I will not take the piss out of you, all right? I promise.”
Harry’s jaw feathered, wiping his hands on his trousers. “I met this girl.”
Sirius nodded, leaning back in his chair. “Oh?”
“She’s not exactly someone I can… explore a relationship with,” Harry concluded, staying vague for a reason.
“Is she married?” Sirius pressed.
“I don’t think so,” Harry replied. “She seemed very single when I met her.”
Sirius sighed. “All right so what’s the issue with mystery girl?”
“I met her while we were in Wales,” Harry confessed.
Harry’s gaze flickering to look at a picture of Harry at three with Sirius hanging on the wall to avoid looking at his godfather. It was one of Sirius’ favorite photos of the two of them. They went on holiday to Myrtle Beach and spent hours on the beach every single day. They had dug holes, conjured fish, and built sandcastles. Harry didn’t remember too much of the trip given his age, but the picture of them covered in sand while sitting on the beach had always hung on the wall.
“Bit of a long distance,” Sirius said slowly.
“And the fact that she’s a Muggle,” Harry added.
Sirius shrugged. “I mean, that’s less of a concern. The living on separate continents is the big obstacle.”
“What about the fact that I only know her name is Ginny,” Harry continued miserably. “I don’t have a last name. She told me she was a footballer, but I’ve looked up every single Welsh football team and she’s not on any of the rosters. Her dad works for the government but I have no idea what he does. She has six brothers who are all older than her.”
Sirius nodded, his brows furrowing. “This is the redhead from that pub, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Harry admitted.
“Merlin fuck, what is wrong with you Potters?” Sirius asked, his head shaking. “I swear it's a curse on your family line. Every single male Potter I have ever met has been hung up on a redhead and can’t think about anyone else. Your dad, your grandfather, your great-grandfather. Always a bloody redhead. They’re like Veelas to you lot.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “This is helpful because…?”
“Because you’ll know it’s not just you,” Sirius replied. “It’s your family curse.”
Harry frowned. “So much for promising not to take the piss out of me.”
“I’m educating you on your family curse,” Sirius explained in an even tone. “That’s not taking the piss, kid.”
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childhoods of marauder characters:
james- grew up in a wealthy neighbourhood in liverpool with occasional trips to mumbai to visit family. other than the trips to india where he could hang out with his cousins his age, he didn't have other friends and grew up very lonely before marlene moved next door when they were about eight, and she became his first non-family member friend. he mostly played quidditch or walked around the garden playing make-belief, very outdoorsy kid. mcgonagall is his godmother/his mum's best friend and ex, so she was around fairly often and he loved trying to play pranks on her (and always failing). his parents gave him anything he asked for and tried (but struggled) keeping up/playing with him. so he didn't really understand not getting his way or what he wants. he grew up with the idea of love being an unconditional thing, and if you love someone then you give them everything you have and are
remus- grew up in a small village in wales with no other kids around. he never travelled very far, other than to the nearest town when they needed something they couldn't get from neighbours or make themselves. his friends were the neighbour's sheep and dog, and his family's chickens. he struggled knowing how to act around people, and his parents didn't really want him around people as they were very overprotective for his safety after greyback bit him, and he was very separated from popular culture. he spent most days indoors reading, knitting with his mum, or watching and talking to the sheep, and doing household chores. he grew up thinking people would hurt him if he got close or he in turn would hurt them, and knowing that he'd have to try twice as hard as the other kids to have a good future
peter- grew up in either essex or kent in a seaside town. he was raised by his mum with his dad out of the picture, but his mum took in homeless/run away kids and taught them life skills and found them jobs, so she didn't give him much attention and expected him to be able to look after himself. so he spent his days walking around town and the beach, collecting stones and shells and painting on them. he was constantly surrounded by people, but never got attention from them. the people his mum took in also had a lot of mental health issues or addictions, so he learned a lot of more adult things quite young, as well as having a paper round when he was 10 to be able to spend time at the arcade instead of just walking around the street. he grew up with the idea that childhood was very fleeting so he valued that more than anything, as well as growing up with the idea that he had to put his life into his own hands and no one else would look out for him but himself
sirius- grew up in islington, london. occasionally going to france or other countries for holidays or special events they were invited to- like charity galas and annual balls. grew up in a family that were losing their money, with the aristocratic class fading away, but were desperately trying to cling onto upper class lifestyle. was expected to be quiet and polite and act like a grownup, but never did. had prospective friends visit all the time but he never got on with them (evan rosier being one of them), which made his parents give up after a while. his parents wanted him to be quiet and studying constantly (if not socialising with other respectable families) so it gave him an easy way to pretend he's studying in his room whilst sneaking out to explore the muggle world. he grew up thinking he was shameful to the people around him, which only made him want to be more shameful cause fuck em, since he was also taught just by being born, he was superior to others (which he slowly unlearnt)
regulus- grew up in islington, london. occasionally going to France or other countries for holidays or special events they were invited to- like charity galas and annual balls. grew up in a family that were losing their money, with the aristocratic class fading away, but were desperately trying to cling onto upper class lifestyle. was expected to be quiet and polite and act like a grownup, which he did. unlike, sirius he did not have prospective friends visit as he wasn't the heir and his parents thought him too strange and awkward for other respectable families. his parents wanted him to be quiet and study constantly so he did just that, other than when he played piano or cello which he had permission by his parents to do anyway. he grew up thinking he had to constantly impress his parents to live up to sirius' easy charming personality and brains, as well as being taught that just by being born, he was superior to others (which he never unlearnt)
lily- grew up in a small town nearby woods (i like the idea of her being scottish but i cannot imagine a scottish severus, so maybe her family is scottish but moved to midlands of england). her parents both worked full time and did a lot of overtime/work out of hours so petunia looked after lily and the house most of the time, leaving lily to go out and play. she was very outdoors-y and hated being at home all day, unlike petunia, so she'd go out to the woods to find severus and play with him, or visit the nice old ladies down the round or go to the park (big fan of the swings) or collect bugs. petunia always seemed so much more grown up than her, and when she did more and more magic, they grew even more separated and lily spent less and less time at home. she grew up with the idea she had to be mature and high achieving to get petunia to want to hang out with her, and that the world in general could seem like a scary or dangerous place but that there was really goodness and kindness and nice things in it all
mary- grew up in plymouth, devon. her dad was in the fishing industry and had quite unreliable hours, which made her more close to her mum, but she still got on well with both of them. she had an older sister who got on with them less, since she was a goth and a lesbian and didn't care what people thought, and their parents are a bit more traditional, but tried being openminded- mary looked up to her a lot despite being very different people. she had a lot of friends and went to a lot of kids clubs (like gymnastics, arts & crafts, performing arts, etc.) also i see her as muggleborn, so she went to primary school obviously and had lots of friends from there). grew up with the idea people are people and you should accept them for their differences (cue friendship with alt butch lesbian autistic marlene), and you should always do what you think is best for you, despite what other people want from you
marlene- scottish but moved to liverpool at around eight years old and met james. is the youngest, and has a few older brothers. her family is very traditional so her mum tries to spend the most time with marlene and teach her feminine qualities, although marlene just wants to go out and play quidditch or go to james' and throw mud at each other for 5 hours. grew up catholic and kept her faith, goes to church every Sunday and does confessions when shes old enough. had meltdowns often as a kid, especially having undiagnosed autism with a mum who wants you to do the opposite of what you want all the time, and she'd run over to the potter's to calm down. grew up thinking she was 'too much' (my beloved quinni variant) and had a lot of religious issues to work through (especially concerning her sexuality)
dorcas- grew up in belfast with their dad. she'd accompany him to building sites (her dad's a builder) often when no one was available to look after her, and they'd play around in the safe areas and the other builders would go talk to her/play with her whilst on their breaks. grew up in a flat with a lot of friendly neighbours in the building who helped raise them. their dad would go out with workmates to the pub after work, when they could, so she spent a lot of time there and always got given free juice and crisps (kids going to pubs is a very normal thing in the uk btw!) had a large sense of community, but not much experience with making friends their own age. grew up with the idea that the world was a dangerous place (its northern ireland in the 60s...) but also that change comes from the people and she could do whatever she could to help others
emmeline- grew up in south korea at a young age but moved to scotland to live with her grandparents (on dad's side) at around six/seven to learn english and prepare to go to hogwarts (her dad grew up in scotland and went to hogwarts). her parents expected her to be studying in the years before hogwarts started, but she never really did (other than her grandfather teaching her english and her grandmother teaching her a few charms). went to a 'bright futures' club and made a few friends there, as well as her fake order of merlin that she began carrying everywhere. she sent letters to her dad constantly, lying about her fast progress and only received a few letters back. grew up thinking she had to achieve greatness or she was worthless, and had to constantly get attention from loved ones by whatever means she could
#marauders era#marauders#james potter#remus lupin#peter pettigrew#sirius black#regulus black#lily evans#mary macdonald#marlene mckinnon#dorcas meadowes#emmeline vance
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Highway to Pail Day 28
[Day 1] [Prev] [Next] @do-it-with-style-events
February 28: Shellfie.
Moving to the South Downs wasn't a permanent change—for beings as old as they were, nothing like this could be—but it went along with the real permanent change: that Aziraphale and Crowley could be together publicly, loudly, and nobody in Heaven or Hell could take it away from them or stop them. Aziraphale wouldn't Fall, neither of them would be tortured or punished or killed. They didn't have to duck around anymore, meeting in plausibly deniable ways. Crowley didn't have to leave the bookshop through the back in the dead of night so he could be seen emerging from his flat in the morning. Aziraphale didn't have to meticulously track every miracle he performed in the hopes of not exceeding his budget. They could hold hands.
Being allowed to touch, in public, was utterly intoxicating to them both.
And touch they did. Not just holding hands: Aziraphale was allowing his hair to grow, no longer required to keep it regulation-short, and Crowley fussed over it constantly, tying and untying and brushing and straightening and brushing flyaways into place; Aziraphale fixed Crowley's collar and cuffs, straightened his ties and scarves and pins. They walked arm-in-arm, like was once fashionable, or with arms around shoulders and waists, or hands resting on lower backs. When they talked they leaned in, hands on forearms, cheeks brushing.
They both smiled more, and more genuinely, truly and perfectly happy like neither of them had been since their creations; even more so, really, for all the years of experience behind them and for the pleasure of each other's love and company.
On a bright sunny spring day, Crowley suggested they go to down to the coast, and Aziraphale smiled and packed a picnic, and off they went.
The Bentley blasting You're My Best Friend on a loop the whole way (which irritated Aziraphale much more than Crowley, who was used to it), they headed straight down to Selsey to look out over the channel and get their toes wet. Aziraphale had changed into an old swimming costume, cream and powder blue alternating stripes ending at the elbows and knees, which he'd probably had since old Bertie had crowned at least; Crowley remained in his regular miracled suit, and intended to simply snap into a speedo if they went swimming.
Aziraphale's hand rested just above Crowley's knee the entire way, except when Crowley took sharp turns at a hundred miles per hour, when it did not rest so much as desperately cling for dear life.
The beach was deserted despite the sunshine, still too chilly to draw in human crowds. Aziraphale and Crowley walked along the coast hand-in-hand, looking out over the sea toward the Isle of Wight, the conversation meandering from the mechanics of plate tectonics (which neither of them understood) to a dinner party they once attended with Plato, from a confused discussion of Wales and whales to the plot of a Doctor Who episode Aziraphale had watched in 2007. This led Crowley to recount a blessing he'd done while stateside with the Dowlings, which reminded Aziraphale of a temptation he'd done in Czechoslovakia in 1983, which reminded Crowley of selfies. Crowley'd had a hand in selfies, tempting a young photographers to a bit of vanity, and it had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams.
His phone was in his hands before he could finish his thought. He interrupted Aziraphale recounting the svíčková he'd had at a bistro in Prague with a command to "Smile, angel!" This earned him a confused look, Aziraphale turning to ask him why, blurrily captured with the tap of a button and a recorded sound effect of a shutter click.
"Whatever are you doing, Crowley?" Aziraphale asked crossly, irritated at the interruption, and Crowley showed him the screen.
The blurry photograph was a nightmare of composition, but Aziraphale immediately loved it more than any in the world, save one. Crowley was smiling, his eyes crinkled at the edge of his sunglasses, one arm visibly extended to hold the phone and the other intertwined with Aziraphale's, Aziraphale clearly beginning to face him. The first photograph of them had been taken at a moment of temporary relief, taken by an enemy and intended to be used against them. The second was pure freedom, pure happiness, taken by Crowley himself, simply because he'd wanted to.
"Oh," Aziraphale said, voice shaky.
"Yeah," was Crowley's equally shaky reply.
"My dear Crowley, you must print this out when we return to the cottage."
"I—Angel, this isn't the only one this phone can take, we can have a better—"
"I certainly hope we will, my dear Crowley," Aziraphale said softly. "And I want to print this one."
They looked at the phone, and then at each other, and smiled.
"Yeah. We'll print it."
Aziraphale had it framed. It hung as a set with an old photograph from the Second World War in their library, above a yellow Georgian chaise that held a mismatched throw blanket and cushion, one in red-and-black tartan and the other patterned with cream and blue snakes.
--
Author's note: This is what came up when I googled "czech food" and HOLY MACARONI IT SOUNDS DELICIOUS. I will be looking for a Czech restaurant that serves svíčková in my area stat.
#my writing#do it with style events#highway to pail#good omens#good omens fanfiction#south downs cottage#aziraphale#crowley good omens#air conditioning#ineffable husbands#aziracrow#azicrow
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Beach Life Part 1
Words: 3.2k
I got a few requests ages ago to write a beach picnic and skinny dipping with Van and this is part 1 of that I wrote a while ago // hopefully I’ll get part 2 written at some point // just fluff, friends to lovers 🩵
Imagines Masterlist Main Masterlist
The sky is pure cerulean with not a cloud in sight, the air warm with a gentle breeze that caresses your skin as you exit your friend's house with him, making your way down the driveway to where his car's parked kerbside. Beautiful sun-kissed days like this are a rare occurrence in this most typical British Summer where reports of 'highest rainfall ever recorded' have been dampening your mood, so when the highly anticipated forecasted heatwave hits the North Wales coast you jump at the chance for a beach day, much to Van's dismay.
"It's too bloody hot," he grumbles, pulling on the collar of his t-shirt with one hand and fanning himself ineffectually with the other. "You know I'm not made for beach life don't ya love?"
You laugh, taking in his flushed appearance and his lily-white legs that look like they've never seen the sun before today. "Oh stop complaining you mardy bugger! It's gorgeous weather. You really look like you could use some sunshine too!"
You purposefully look down at his pale legs peeking below his shorts, giggling, which earns you a gentle nudge in the ribs. "Oi! We can't all be bronzed and beautiful!"
"Don't worry, I've packed the factor 50," you smirk, patting the large beach bag which is slung over your shoulder as you make your way around to the passenger side, then you lower your voice but make sure that Van can still hear you. "Although I think factor 100 would have been more fitting!"
He narrows his eyes at you over the roof of the car. "Keep teasing me and you're gonna be in big trouble!" He warns playfully.
It's not a long drive to the beach thankfully as Van has no air conditioning so you crank the windows fully down, letting the wind blast in and toss your hair wildly around. You have The Strokes Heart In A Cage blaring out of the car's tinny speakers and you're both nodding your heads and singing along. There's a heady atmosphere in the air and it's not just the heat, this day feels full of the promise of something... the excitement of spending the day together with no interruptions and no band interference. It's a rare occurrence as since Van's debut album was released it seems like everyone wants a piece of him and you're relishing having him all to yourself.
You've been friends with him for three months now since you moved here from London after your parent's acrimonious divorce. You'd struck up a friendship when you'd moved into a small cottage across the road from him and his best friend Larry. He'd spotted you and your mum struggling with furniture on moving day, both of you stubborn enough to try and do everything yourselves without the help of 'useless men' as your mum had phrased it. But of course how could you resist the kind offer of help from the enthusiastic lad with the scruffy hair and the slightly crooked smile? He'd come bounding over the road with offers of assistance and cups of tea, eyes bright as he'd chatted away, his affable, friendly manner impossible not to instantly warm to. Since then you'd practically been inseparable... when Van's band commitments hadn't impinged of course.
"Here we are!" Van announces as he turns on to an narrow unmade road, the car bouncing around as it rolls slowly over the bumpy terrain.
You glance around, taking in your surroundings, feeling confused. "It's the wrong turning, the beach car park's further down the road. It's at least a few more miles."
"Nah, we're not going there," Van replies, and you wait for him to elaborate but he doesn't, he just carries on driving with a smug grin on his face like he's in on some secret that you're not privy to.
"Well where are we going then? This doesn't lead anywhere! It's probably the driveway to some farmhouse or something."
"Just you wait and see..."
Van tries to inject some mystery into his voice but you hate surprises. You turn this way and that, seeing nothing but rolling fields on either side. You can clearly see the sea up ahead but the track gets even narrower, barely big enough for the car to fit through, the branches from prickly bushes intruding through the open windows. You yelp as one of them brushes your bare arm, lightly scratching you.
"Where the hell are we going? It's probably private property. We could be trespassing. We might..."
Your words catch in your throat as Van steers around a tight bend in the road and all of a sudden you're faced with a breathtaking view of the beach and the sea beyond a small hedgerow. Van pulls up quickly, turning off the ignition and turning to you.
"What d'ya reckon then? My dad told me about this place. It's a way off from the main tourist area so it's usually dead quiet."
You stretch up in your seat, trying to get a clearer view of the beach, unconvinced that there won't be hordes of holiday makers there in this glorious weather. You can't see anyone but you're sure that as soon as you make your way down over the dunes it'll be just as busy as the main seafront.
"Well it looks good from here..."
You grab your beach bag from the footwell, exiting the car quickly, excited to get to the beach. Family holidays were few and far between whilst you were growing up due to the rift in your parents' relationship so you rarely ventured out of the city. Now you live on the coast you spend as much time as you can on the beach regardless of the weather. There's something so calming about being near the sea, looking out on the huge aquamarine expanse and watching the steady swells rise and fall, hearing the waves crashing on to the shore and feeling the sand between your toes.
Van doesn't share your love of the coast though. Growing up in a small seaside town as an aspiring musician he's always been quite vocal about how much he'd wanted to get out his whole life and into the big, wide world. Even now he's made it and his life is full of touring and visiting far flung cities he still complains when you drag him for walks on the beach whenever he's home. So you were particularly surprised when you'd suggested spending a whole afternoon by the sea and he'd actually agreed, although reluctantly, even offering to bring along a picnic.
"You carry on," Van calls as he walks around to open the boot of the car. "Just have to get a few things. I'll catch you up. The path there leads right down to the beach."
You don't hesitate, eager to see for yourself this hidden gem that Van's found, picking your way carefully down the narrow stoney path that he's indicated. It's only a short distance to the sand and as soon as your feet sink into it you're kicking off your sandals, smiling up into the warm sunshine, breathing in the salty air.
"What d'ya think then? Good, eh?"
Van comes to stand beside you, laden down with a huge picnic hamper and a folded chequered blanket tucked under his arm, a huge smile on his face and his eyes wide in anticipation as he waits for your reaction.
And it's not just good. It's perfect. You're speechless for a moment, taking in the expanse of sand, the sun shining on the glittered emerald sea, the only sounds the waves gently breaking on the shore and the faint cry of gulls as they wheel and dip in the sky. There's not a soul in sight, and you can't quite believe that you have the whole beach to yourselves. Normally you're fighting for a spot amongst a crowd of sun-seeking holiday-makers, sharing your space with bickering families and screeching toddlers, all desperate for that slice of the great British seaside holiday. It's hardly idyllic though. It pales in comparison to the scene before your eyes.
"Oh Van, it's beautiful... it's perfect. I really didn't believe it when you said it'd be so quiet. I'm just expecting hordes of tourists to come rushing down over those dunes at any moment."
"Knew you'd like it love. And don't worry, no one comes here... apart from me mum and dad. They come here all the time to walk Little Mary. You know how she loves the beach, but dogs aren't allowed on the main beach in town."
You giggle as you recall the few times you've volunteered to take Mary for walks, the way she gets so excitable when there's crowds of people around.
"It's probably just as well, can you imagine her on that crowded beach?"
Van laughs too, placing the picnic hamper down on the sand and grabbing the edge of the blanket to shake it out. "Yeah, for saying she's so tiny she's definitely got big dog energy!"
You dart forward to grasp the opposite edge of the blanket before the breeze can snatch it away, stretching it out and bending down to place it on the sand as Van does the same. You're just smoothing out the wrinkles as Van rises up and by some embarrassingly timely stroke of fate, a large gust of wind whips up behind you, taking the hem of your flimsy sundress and flipping it up around your hips.
You straighten up in an instant, red-faced and gasping, trying to cover your modesty whilst you resemble Marilyn Monroe in her iconic pose, albeit a much less sultry version.
"Ah shit, where the hell did that wind come from?"
Your eyes dart to Van who's staring at you with eyes like saucers, his jaw hanging agape, until he clocks you've noticed him looking and he turns away, embarrassed. You quickly sit down, smoothing down your dress.
"Maybe I should have worn my bikini underneath," you giggle as he turns back, warily, looking a little flustered.
"Yeah, fuckin' hell I got a right eyeful then!" He chuckles, then a mischievous glint lights up his eyes as he adds, "not that I'm complaining!"
Your cheeks flush even more at his cheeky comment and you look down, unsure how to react, opting to just laugh it off, digging in your beach bag as a distraction, taking out your sun cream.
"Bloody perv!" You giggle, watching him sink down on to the blanket next to you.
Even though you and Van are just friends there's definitely been something simmering between the two of you for a while now. Van's an affectionate person and he's always been touchy-feely with you, but a casual arm slung over your shoulder has definitely lingered longer than normal the past few weeks, a guiding hand on the small of your back as you make your way through crowds at a gig has more often than not found it's way curled around your waist. The most recent development is the cheeky comments that have been fired at you left, right and centre. You've often wondered whether Van's just testing the water, seeing how you'll react. He knows you didn't only leave your childhood home behind when you moved from London, but also a disastrous relationship. Your last boyfriend, and the only one you'd ever had, was a serial cheater and a womaniser. He'd treated you like dirt and you're still smarting from it three months on, reliving the bitter heartbreak whenever you consider moving on and starting to date again.
But you have been considering it... a lot recently thanks to Van's attentions.
"Hope you packed your bikini anyway, gonna get you in the sea later," he says, fingers working on the catches of the picnic hamper.
"You... going in the sea? But you hate it. You've always moaned when I've suggested it before."
He shrugs. "Just fancy it today. It's not normally warm enough for swimming, but it's fucking roasting today."
"Well I didn't bring it, I'll just have to watch you. I can paddle on the shore. It's no big deal."
Van stops what he's doing and turns to face you. "Oh no, you're not getting out of it. You're coming in, even if I have to pick you up and dump you in fully dressed!"
"Fuck off!" You laugh, squirting sun cream on your left arm and starting to rub it in. "You wouldn't dare!"
"Try me!"
"You know I'll kick your ass if you pull anything like that!" You grin, then your conversation turns to good-natured banter, back and forth and back again, each one of you firing out cheeky insults about who'd get the upper hand if you were to get embroiled in a fight.
You're both laughing freely until Van drops a bombshell that's implied as a joke, but actually you're pretty sure he's deadly serious about the suggestion.
"I guess we could just go skinny dipping!"
You laugh so hard it comes out like a snort, raising up your hand to cover your mouth. It's a ridiculous idea but you can't deny the way the idea's made your pulse quicken, images racing through your head of Van's naked body brushing up against yours in the cool water.
"Ha ha yeah I can just see that, we'd probably get arrested for indecent exposure!"
"By who?" Van grins, holding up his hands to indicate the empty beach. "There's no one around. It's deserted. No one would see us."
Oh shit... he is actually serious...
Your heart's started thumping now, your palms feeling clammy. You wipe them surreptitiously on your dress, wondering how to respond. Token gestures of affection and playful flirting are one thing, getting naked in front of one of your closest friends who you're definitely attracted to is another.
You decide to play it safe and make a joke out of it. "Knowing our luck we'd strip off and your mum and dad will have decided it's a lovely day to bring Little Mary for a walk!"
Van's grin widens at the thought and he starts chuckling loudly, but when his laughter dies away he still seems keen. "That'd be a bloody nightmare! No chance of them turning up today though. My grandad's down for the weekend and he's staying at theirs."
"That'd be even worse, imagine your grandad catching us in the buff!"
"Fucks sake, if he saw my skinny white naked ass it'd probably finish him off!"
You both burst into fits of laughter, hysterically so, laughing so hard that your stomachs are aching and you have tears rolling down your cheeks. It disperses the tension though, Van focussing his attention back on to the picnic hamper again once you've both calmed down.
Van's never been one to brag about his culinary skills, in fact it's usually the opposite, so it had surprised you when he'd insisted on preparing a picnic hamper. You watch him, full of curiosity as he opens up the wicker lid, delving inside and bringing out various Tupperware containers.
"Someone's been busy," you comment, impressed as he lays the containers on the blanket, then he produces a bottle with a flourish. "Oh my god is that champagne?"
"Uh-huh," he nods. "Only the best for you Y/N."
"Aww thank you," you smile coyly, taking a plastic champagne flute off him when he offers it to you. He really has thought of everything. "So what's this all in aid of anyway?"
Van sets about removing the foil from the top of the bottle and twisting the cork. "Well... I know you've been feeling down about that idiot boyfriend of yours..."
"EX-boyfriend," you quickly correct him, noting his smile.
"Yeah... EX-boyfriend... AND a little bird told me it's your birthday next week..."
"Who told you that?" Your eyes widen in shock.
"Your mum... I saw her mowing the front lawn last week and she just happened to tell me. Thought a little celebration might be in order."
"Awww thank you, that's so sweet. You really didn't need to go to all this trouble though."
"I know," he smiles back at you. "I wanted to though."
You feel a warm glow pass through you at the sentiment, knowing that he's done all of this for you. After a few twists the cork bursts from the bottle with force, making you yelp in surprise. Immediately the frothy liquid begins to bubble over the top so you dart forward a hand with your glass to catch it, both laughing as it rises quickly up the thin glass and trickles over into your lap, soaking you.
"Ahhh shit, sorry!" He laughs, his hand moving forward to brush the damp material which is draped across your thighs, lingering a little too long as your eyes meet and you look away to hide a blush.
"S'okay, it'll dry quick in this heat," you assure him, reaching for one of the plastic tubs as a distraction which thankfully works, Van eager to show off all the treats that he's prepared.
He's really gone to town. There's sandwiches with several fillings, all cut up and stacked neatly in one container, chopped up salad vegetables with some kind of dip, quiches and crackers and other savoury nibbles, and even various fruits in another container.
"Oh wow strawberries!" You exclaim, reaching forward to grab one excitedly. "I've had such a craving for these all week! You must be a mind reader. All this is great... really. Did you do it all yourself?"
He nods enthusiastically before cracking a grin and reaching for a strawberry himself. "Well... I guess I might have had a little help. Larry might've lent a hand."
More like Larry did everything, you think, but you don't say anything, not wanting to take away from the sweet gesture that Van's made in treating you.
"These are so good!"
The strawberries are heavenly, huge ripe fruits bursting with flavour and so juicy that as soon as you bite into one the juice is dripping down your chin. You giggle, embarrassed by the mess you're making, shooting up a hand to wipe the stickiness from your skin. "Oh my god, just look at the state of me!"
Van is looking, a lot closer than you realise. In fact he can't take his eyes off you, the way the strawberry juice stains your lips. They're as plush and ripe as the fruit itself, and he wonders whether they'd taste the same. Probably even sweeter, he muses.
He teases you as you wipe at your face, only managing to smear the red syrup further over your chin. He grabs for a napkin and raises up his hand to dab at the mess, leaning right in, close enough to make you suck in a breath which you try to hide with another shy giggle.
"What a mess, can't take you anywhere," he teases. "First you get covered in champagne and now you're all sticky."
"Hold on, you're the one who covered me in champagne!"
"Don't worry, you can just wash it all off in the sea later..."
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Exploring Big Cities Via Novels
Exploring large cities can be a lot of fun, but my feet and knees can’t always take all of the running around. Visiting via novels (or graphic novels) makes it a lot easier. It’s clearly not the same experience, but I do enjoy a little tourism via literature. The last few young adult (or new adult) titles I’ve read take place in London, San Francisco, and New York with nods to quite a few of the local landmarks. I enjoyed each of these in different ways and appreciated seeing the cities through other eyes.
London on My Mind is a rom-com with a bit of family drama and a brush with royalty. Kisses, Codes, and Conspiracies has all that you might expect with the title including a bit of romance along with a few thrilling moments. Roaming leans more coming-of-age as college freshman wander through the streets of New York.
With all three, it was nice to experience the settings along with the characters. When I saw the Palace of Fine Arts in San Francisco while on a walk last night it definitely made me think of a specific scene in Kisses, Codes, and Conspiracies. I didn’t make it all the way there though since as often happens, my feet were done before the rest of me wanted to give up for the day. I’m thankful for these glimpses of cities from the comfort of my reading chair.
London on My Mind by Clara Alves translated by Nina Perrotta PUSH
Sixteen-year-old Dayana has always dreamed of visiting London — to walk along the Thames, take pictures outside Buckingham Palace, and maybe even get a glimpse of Arthur, Prince of Wales, whose marriage has been all over tabloids. But the trip of her dreams turns into a royal nightmare when her mother passes away. Now, Day must leave Rio de Janeiro to live with her estranged father and his new family in London.
As it turns out, the U.K. isn’t exactly Day’s cup of tea. She struggles to forgive her father for walking out on her and her mom all those years ago; fights with her stepsister constantly; detests her stepmother; and she can’t even see One Direction in concert because they’ve been broken up for ages. All she wants to do is trade the rainy skies of London for the sun and beaches of Rio.
That’s when she runs into the girl of her dreams — literally: The coincidentally named Diana, a witty, funny, redhead who was in the middle of . . . escaping Buckingham Palace? Something isn’t right here, but it makes Diana all the more alluring. As time passes, and the two girls grow closer, Day can’t help but wonder if there is more than a little truth to the rumors surrounding Prince Arthur — and if Diana might be involved somehow. Is it all in her head, or could Day be caught up in a real-life royal scandal?
Kisses, Codes, and Conspiracies by Abigail Hing Wen Feiwel & Friends – Available August 13, 2024 (Thanks to the ALA Convention for the ARC)
Tan Lee finds himself embroiled in an unusual love triangle, all while trying to defuse a heist, unravel a conspiracy, and navigate the most complicated babysitting assignment ever in this YA novel by national bestselling author Abigail Hing Wen.
After a magical kiss at Prom, best friends Tan Lee and Winter Woo agree to cool it off, a plan that goes awry when their parents jointly head off to Hawaii and leave Tan and Winter to babysit Tan’s sister Sana together. If that isn’t complicated enough, Tan’s ex-girlfriend from Shanghai arrives on his doorstep with money stolen from her billionaire father and thugs on her heels.
Tan soon finds himself on the run, trying to out-maneuver international hackers and protect his friends, family and sister – and his own heart.
Roaming by Jillian Tamaki & Mariko Tamaki Drawn & Quarterly
Spring break, 2009. High school best friends Zoe and Dani are now freshman college students, meeting in a place they’ve wanted to visit forever: New York City. Tagging along is Dani’s classmate Fiona, a mercurial art student with an opinion on everything. Together, the three cram in as much of the city as possible, gleefully falling into tourist traps, pondering so-called great works of art, sidestepping creeps, and eating lots and lots of pizza (folded in half, of course). Roaming is a ground-breaking graphic novel from the authors behind New York Times bestseller and Caldecott Honor Book This One Summer.
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Robron Fanfiction Recommendations (May-2024)
The below were recommended on Twitter during May 2024.
Love Me Blind (2019) 25.1K words, exploring_in_space
When Aaron was 17, he fell in love with Robert, his soulmate, over the summer. But then Chrissie found them and they split. Now, ten years later, Aaron is moving in with boyfriend Ed (a ‘comfortable’ relationship) into the Mill while Robert (not completely happy but happy enough) is a single father to Sebastian. When the two meet up again at a machinery convention, it doesn’t take long before Aaron initiates an affair while keeping Robert in the dark that he’s still very much still involved in all manner with his boyfriend. Oh, did I forget to mention that Aaron’s lapse in paying attention lead him to believe Sebastian is a dog? Something’s got to give and who will lose in the end?
All Over Again (2016) 4.5K words, Miss_Romance_Lover
It’s post-SSW2016 and the lads made it through alright but Aaron has a seizure while in hospital and now has lost a full year of his life. That means he doesn’t recall opening up about the vile one, his sister being back in his life and, most importantly, that he and Robert were happy and living together. As Chas and Robert are there to support Aaron as his memories gradually begin to return, in the end it’s about Aaron falling for Robert who he is now.
Skins and Torrents (2019) 20.0K words, Illgetmerope
Aaron left the village not only to escape the Dingle name but to be close to the ocean… becoming a fisherman. He keeps to himself and pretty much is on his own but then a freckled seal starts to stay very close when he’s out on his boat to retrieve his catches and begins to enjoy seeing the animal. Soon after, a freckled blonde shows up with eyes for Aaron and there is a connection. But when Robert disappears after their night together, all good feelings are gone. Oh, there’s this legends about selkies that Sarah tells Aaron but he brushes it off until he realizes there may be truth in it after all…
Behind the Bar (2015) 3.2K words, robronsugsy
Diane and Doug have plans to go out and Chas is feeling under the weather. What shall become of the bar for the evening? Well… Robert volunteers himself and Aaron to cover for them! How will they do I wonder 🤔?
May to December (2017) 23.6K words, Activeimagination
Hell year was a disaster and hard to watch, if at all, most times. Here, we get a different take of the lads’ breakup but with major differences. There is no OTT ad nauseam plotting by Robert, Doc Dulliard does not exist and Chas/Liv aren’t trying to make Aaron prove to THEM he’s over Robert. Instead, we focus on the lads individually as they try to cope with their breakup via regular counseling for Aaron and the bottle being Robert’s best friend but all roads lead them back together before December.
Something wretched about this (something so precious about this) (2016) 2.9K words, Port_in_a_Storm
It’s post Aaron finding about Andy being behind Robert’s shooting. With Robert mentioning how Aaron wanted him dead at one point, he begins to question whether Aaron still has some of those residual feelings especially since he has not said the L word since they got back together. Time for a chat to clear the air.
And You Are? series (2016) 11.3K words, brangelina_of_the_gallaghers
A series of eight stories that take place in 2010 when Robert (23) returns on the day of Sarah’s birthday and it’s Aaron (19) who he runs into first. And right from that first night they get together and decides on being friends with benefits. Each story focuses on the usual suspects one by one finding out about them as the pair continue to get together but do not admit there are emotions involved until the end.
Down by the Sea (2016) 4.0K words, MonkeyLuv
Robert, Aaron and Liv go off on a trip to Wales that Aaron hopes will brings some Robert and Liv bonding. Well, when you have nicknames tossed about, Taylor Swift blaring, the beach and pesky hair gel (along with a wee bit of Adele in 2016 🥺), how could they not all get along better by the time they head back home?
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So we're on holiday in Wales and we went to this little seaside town today which was very nice (and I had the best mushroom stroganoff of my life but I digress). We were down by the harbor and sat down on a bench in a little parking lot by some small residential houses, and I noticed that there were two big parking spaces directly in front of us marked "tractors only." One was empty and the other had a Mini Cooper parked in it. Again, seaside down. By the harbor. We're surrounded by seagulls, ice cream vendors, and a booth that sells tickets to boat tours to a nearby island inhabited by puffins. And yet, tractors.
So I pointed to the Mini Cooper and said, "that's not a tractor." Immediately, as if it had been summoned, an actual tractor rolls into the parking lot. Naturally I pointed to it and said, "that's a tractor." It pulls up past the empty space for it and I'm fully expecting it to back in but instead,
it stops.
The driver gets out.
He walks over to the Mini Cooper. Unlocks the door. Gets in. Turns it on. Moves it from the far tractor spot to the near one. Then he gets back in the tractor and parks it in the now empty space in a perfect three point turn on this tiny seaside street as we sit on the bench and watch, delighted, even when the giant wheels are barely a foot away from us. (As the spouse said, "Johnny McMoneyface in his Audi couldn't do that parking job.")
The driver turns off the tractor and hops down. I thank him and tell him that entire series of events we just witnessed was phenomenal. He just smiles and says, "I've got another tractor down on the beach that I need to bring up." THE MINI COOPER WAS JUST HIS PLACEHOLDER. I couldn't write this if I tried.
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Holiday/asexual Spider headcanons ⛰☔️🌧🌥🐑🌳🌂🌊🏄🏼♂️🏡
This started off as holiday headcanons in Wales (because I am on holiday in Wales), but pretty much turned into a Spider coming out as ace scene to Lo'ak 🤷🏼♀️ The weather gets bad it's sooo atmospheric here, it's the perfect setting for this scene 🏴
- Spider is on holiday with the Sullys in a sleepy village by the sea (where it is cold, wet and windy, even in summer). Spider has been raised next door and is great friends with the kids. Jake and Neytiri know that he doesn't have the best homelife so they invited him on their family holiday.
- Lo’ak and Spider are left alone in the cottage that the family rented out, (the other Sullys are out in the next town over or something) so they decide to go out for a walk.
- Inevitably, the pair get up to various shenanigans (not following the designated trails, making friends with cows, pretending to push each other off the cliffs etc.)
- A storm rolls in by the afternoon and catches them off guard. They're caught in it while on a path that is at the top of a cliff - they have the perfect view of the sea and sky. The clouds are dark and stormy and rolling in fast. The wind picks up and whips their hair around their faces. Spider tucks his braid into his rain jacket, however Lo’ak is too cool to wear a raincoat so has to pull his hoodie jacket tighter around him
- They trip and tumble their way back down the trail - no one else is out and the peninsula is deserted. They're the only people they can see and the town and surrounding beaches and countryside are desolate.
- They get back to the holiday home just as the rain starts pouring down, and they can see the sea from their room. The waves are huge, crashing onto the rocks with ferocity. They’re glad they got back before the rain hit, staring at the sea as thunder claps overhead. The room is dark and they put the shitty heater on, lying with their feet pressed up against it.
- They wonder if the others are caught in the storm where they are, joking about each of the family's reactions. Lo'ak says that Tuk would love being out in a storm - she'd probably ask to go paddleboarding in it. Kiri would be miserable that they'd have to stay inside, but still admire the beauty of the landscape when it is unsettled like this.
- Then, while they're talking about Kiri, Lo’ak asks Spider what the situation is between him and her. Spider replies a bit awkwardly at first. It's an open secret that Spider and Kiri get on extremely well, and Lo'ak is not the first to suspect the two are more than friends. Spider says that nothing has ever happened between them, and Lo'ak is incredulous. When Lo'ak keeps pushing, Spider eventually flat out denies that he's ever looked at Kiri that way; never thought about her like that. Lo'ak looks like an idiot with his mouth hanging open, until Spider explains. "I don't know, man. I think it's called asexual or something. I've never thought about anyone like that."
- Lo’ak had no idea that was a thing and still can't believe it at first. Eventually he decides this is great news because he never has to worry about Spider and Kiri breaking up. "Does she know? Have you said this to her?"
- "We haven't really talked about it." Lo'ak looks at Spider as if he can't believe that. Spider defends himself. "We've never had to. She knows I don't like her like that, and that's enough."
- "But how do you know she knows?" Lo'ak asks, apparently concerned that Kiri was running off with the idea of marrying Spider when they got older. "She just knows me," Spider shrugs. Lightning flashes outside the window, casting their shadows against the radiator for a brief second.
- "Wow," Lo'ak says, mulling over what Spider told him. "Guess you're just too cool to want what everyone else wants, huh?"
- Spider shakes his head, grinning with his best friend, but something inside him tells him he wants to open up even further. He may as well, seeing as he's gotten this far and it's the perfect opportunity with just the two of them in the house. "Nah. There's definitely something wrong with me."
- "Yeah, but you've always been a bit of a weirdo!" Lo'ak playfully punches Spider on the shoulder. Spider decides to sit up properly, back against the radiator now and able to look at Lo'ak properly. At his silence, Lo'ak continues. "Nah bro. I don't think there's something wrong with you. Not everyone wants that shit. It's chill."
- Spider grins ruefully and punches Lo'ak back in the shoulder. "Thanks, bro." The two lay back down and the talk turns to Lo'ak's unsuccessful love life with local girl, Tsireya.
- A weight seems to lift off Spider's chest - one that he didn't even realise he'd been carrying.
#spider socorro#lo'ak te suli tsyeyk’itan#avatar lo'ak#avatar spider#avatar modern au#avatar the way of water#my stuff#spider is ace
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So we know of the person who dreamed that Michael Sheen was yelling Welsh facts at them but I’d like to toss my hat in over my Michael and David dream 🥲.
So for some reason, they were having a balls to the walls competition to see if they could get me to move to Wales or Scotland and they refused to tell me what happened to the loser but apparently it was so serious that they both went wild showing me the best spots. I said I liked beaches and the ocean but the mountains too, so Michael was showing me beachside Welsh cottages and David was showing me beautiful homes in the highlands and just as the winner was to be decided I woke up and now I feel bad for not giving them an answer. 🫠😅
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