Let’s explore cities together. Let’s find the good restaurants off the beaten track, let’s visit all the monuments and take pictures of ourselves beside them. Let’s go to the cathedrals and museums and galleries and see all the history and buy cute, tacky souvenirs. Let’s get lost in the back streets.
This book broke my heart, Everything was fine then it went to shit, then it was fine again and then it went to shit again, and then everything was fine, and I thought things were going to turn out really well, then everything went to ABSOLUTE SHIT. I’d give this book 5/5, because it was so jam-packed with so much action and different character and plot twists, whereas Lady Midnight was basically the Emma and Jules show.
I felt that Lady Midnight, though it was a good Book, wasn’t Cassie Clare’s best work. The first half failed to really draw me in, and I had to push to really get into the book. It was also just constant Emma and Jules, though I understand she was setting the scene and setting up their relationship, it just got a bit dull. The whole book was kind of a ‘meh’, but with Lord of Shadows, it was fast-paced right off the bat, with loads of plots and different POV’s and characters drawing me completely into the book. This book, in my opinion, was a huge jump from LM, in terms of success for me, personally.
I was getting a lot of asks on why I spoil myself for things, the reason is a) I can’t help it, and b) when something major happens in a book that I wasn’t expecting, I get really hyped up for a few days and can’t really concentrate on anything else. Sounds kinda weird, but spoiling myself works. Except some people gave me fake spoilers, so…
Anyway I’ve tried to organise my thoughts into sections, but it’s all a bit all over the place, here are my thoughts and theories!
-When Yura and Beka walk around the city, they usually go off the beaten tracks to avoid the masses of tourists and travellers that flood the streets of St Petersburg every day. Yura knows the city quite well, he knows countless shortcuts and hidden alleys and paths that turn every stroll into a little adventure. Beka likes that.
-Beka also discovers that Yura has that weird habit to climb onto every wall and fence they come across and that is low enough for him to climb on. And then, much like a circus artist, he balances over them, with his hands in his pocket, never once stopping his conversation with Beka.
-At first Beka has a little heart attack when Yura climbs onto a fence that is taller than Beka is, and the Russian boy prances over it gracefully as a cat. But Yura is pure charm, both on and off the ice, and Beka’s worries soon turn into admiration for the way Yura makes jumping and dancing atop a narrow fence look as easy as breathing.
-Yura would normally just grin smugly at his friend and make a photo from above; mocking him with how tall he now is compared to the older Kazakh boy. One of these pictures is his phone background.
-Beka would look up at him with a smile and Yura would show off his skills and do a somersault backwards, just because he can and because he’s a damn athlete. Oftentimes, Beka makes photos when he does. He, too, keeps them saved on his phone and laptop.
-At some point, however, Yura has made it a habit of jumping down and letting himself be caught by Beka.
-The first time is an accident, he actually wants to do a somersault and land on the pavement, when he trips and he falls forward – and Beka’s arms come out from nowhere and catch him before he crashes to the ground. And since then it’s become a habit.
-Beka, obviously, always sees through him, but he doesn’t mind, if anything, he fills him with a sense of pride because he’s the one into whose arms Yura so readily jumps. And he always, always catches him safely.
-Yura is once again balancing on a wall. It’s a fairly low one build around a garden. The white blossoming trees with low hanging branches give support if necessary. Beka, is briefly distracted by his phone, when he feels a nudge against his shoulder, motioning him to halt.
-Beka suddenly feels a gentle pressure on top of his head. He looks up in surprise and sees how Yura has crouched down in front of him on the wall. Beka raises a hand –
-“It’s a flower crown!” Yura grins. “A real one, not the snapchat thing.”
-And Beka’s cheeks basically explode with red as he just stares up at the boy and Yura lifts his phone to take a picture.
-“Fufu, it suits you.”
-“It would suit you more,” Beka says with a smile and a moment of recovery and Yura gives him the most beautiful smile and points at another flower crown sitting next to his feet.
-“Put it on me?” he asks and Beka nods, his heart jumping inside his chest and Yura bows his head and Beka places it atop the golden blond hair.
-Yura lifts his gaze and within an instant Beka knows what he’s about to do and he lifts his arms in invitation and Yura leaps forward, right into his hug.
I’m back with the second to last soulmate au, enjoy~
•Your soulmate key was actually pretty chill, • On the back of your hand is the neon glowing lines of a compass, like a tattoo, moving to point in the direction your soulmate is, • There’s many stories of people packing a bag and just taking off and following the compass until they find their soulmate, • But you decided maybe you’d wait a while before you get desperate, • And soulmates are fate, you’d meet at some point anyway, right? • Yes; Yes you would, • All through growing up, your compass hardly moved at all, • You honestly thought it was broken and you’d forever be lonely, • Until you realised your soulmate probably just lived very far away, • You were salty for like 6 months, because it meant it’d be harder for you to find your Soulmate, • But then you realised- There’s no point in being salty at all, • And who are you being salty to? • Your soulmate had exactly the same problem, and you can’t really be mad at F A T E, • Although you tried, • But then it got you thinking, • If your soulmate lived far away, what if they spoke a different language? • That made you worry for around 2 months, but then you realised- • (This was the year of realising things btw), • There’s literally no point in worrying? If there’s a language barrier then there’s a language barrier; there’s nothing you can do about it at the moment? • So yeah you’re pretty chill about soulmates most of the time, • It’s honestly admirable because everyone freaks out about soulmates, • But boy do you get the fright of your life when your compass point moves overnight, • You wake up and contemplate whether you’ve been reading it wrong all of your life but no, it definitely used to always point south west, • But the fact it’s now pointing north is really kinda exciting, • So imagine your elation when it starts regularly moving, • It normally stays pointing northward but throughout the day it sways east and west, • Which only means one thing- Your soulmate is close by, • Gurl is ready to go soulmate hunting straight away but you hold back , • It may be a little scary to find a girl in her PJ’s out on the street telling you you’re their soulmate, • Personally though, you wouldn’t mind, • So although you don’t go searching out your soulmate, you’re a lot more aware, often tracing the neon colours of the compass with your fingers, • A habit that slowly becomes comforting, reminding yourself there will always be someone who loves you no matter what happens, • You get a job waiting tables at a cheap little restaurant in a quiet part of town, • Because no matter what people say money is happiness, • Because the restaurant is small everyone who works there is like a small family, • And because the restaurant is off the beaten track, the customers usually aren’t too bad, and you usually have your regulars where you know all about their kids and grand kids and jobs, • You’re writing down orders for the old couple that comes every other Monday, • your compass is hyper tonight, swaying this way and that, but the old man, DoJung, is telling you about his grandson who just got into Seoul National University and you can’t be rude, • So you listen to him talk with a smile, absent mindedly slowly tracing the compass, that is…way brighter than usual? • You’re not sure though because you’re a busy person with a bad memory, • But another couple of people wander through the doors and you have to tear yourself away, making sure to congratulate the elderly couple and finally deliver their order to the chef, • You grab your little notebook and scan the cozy seating area, • You weave your way around the tables like the damn expert you are to glide to a stop infront of the 2 new boys’ table, throwing on a smile despite the fact you’re actually very tired and your legs ache from standing for the last few hours, • You greet them happily, trying to make them comfortable enough to become regular customers because you have to admit, • They’re both Hella cute and having them become regulars might just lighten your day a little, • Seonho and Guanlin, your new targets, • In a non creepy way. . . • They’re agile looking, and tired, (and slightly similar looking), which leads you to believe they’re trainees from the nearby company, • You’re asking what they’d like to drink when you catch sight of your hand, the compass spinning with passion, making your heart leap, • You know this is the sign your soulmate is near, • Or yanno, • Right infront of you, • Your eyes float down to the 2 boys infront of you, the shyer one staring at his hand, • You watch his identical neon compass spin uncontrollably as he watches with confusion, • “Huh” • People talk about an exhilarating feeling when you meet your soulmate, but you’re calm as you wrap your mind around the fact that it looks like this squish is apparently your squish, • You lay your hand next to where he’s staring at his, Guanlin, and watch as your compasses spin in time, as if in a synchronised dance, and smile at him when his eyes rise to meet yours, • Oh, the butterflies have finally come, • “Oh, There you are. I’ve been waiting for you,” • Seonho slides the hell out of there with the widest of grins and a slap to Guanlin’s back before disappearing, • Guanlin motions you to sit in the opposite with a shy smile and blushing cheeks and you’re sure the other waiters will understand, • I mean you’ve just met your soulmate what better excuse is there to bunk off work? • (I mean there’s death but), • Honestly, it’s a little awkward, as Guanlin’s still mastering Korean, and he seems a little shy and jumpy anyway, • But you’re generally calm, so in the time of need you pull through, • After a little while Guanlin seems to relax a bit as well, and you can’t help but feel so at home in his presence, as if you’ve always been together, • You catch him staring into your eyes and scanning your face but you’re doing exactly the same, • His eyes soften with every passing moment and you’re still wrapping your head around the fact that you’ve found him, • Or rather, that he walked straight into you, • Both of you are young, and slightly shy, so you take things slow and everything is so sweet, • You go on quiet dates whenever you can, wanting to spend every minute with each other, • (Guanlin is usually exhausted from being a trainee and simple dates suit you just fine, luckily entertainment companies are quite lenient with Soulmates), • When he first slips his hand into yours, slowly and unsure, you take his hand and squeeze it reassuringly, smiling up at him, • The first time you hug you’re suprised to feel him completely surround you in his warmth despite being a skinny noodle™ and his sense of safety and peace is heart warming, • You’re the first to peck him, playfully on the top of his nose and although it’s small you both blush instantly, • When he first wraps his arm around your waist you grin and lean into him, comforted by the small action, • When you first cuddle, you’re both half asleep and half way through a film and your limbs tangle together like they where made to, his warmth feels like home and he just seems to soft, • Your first proper kiss is slow and unsure and jittery and awkward arms, but it seems magical to you, • And your second one is more sure and determined and passionate with hands running through hair and bodies pressed together, • You start to learn a little Chinese so Guanlin can feel a little less homesick and it feels as if you can get to know him from a different angle, • And boy the smile that spreads onto his face and the fierce hug he engulfs you in is everything, • His height is next level though, you never lose him in a crowd; it’s great, • When he introduces you to the guys he’s all shy and blushy and they all tease him and damn that’s your heart going Buh Boom because you’re causing him to become a blushing mess, • Not a load of PDA because shy beans but in private it’s always gentle touches and honestly you’re always there to comfort each other, • Because sometimes life is hard and there’s nothing you can do so whether it’s gentle words or, more often, just the comforting presence without the need for verbal reassurances, you’re there for each other with open arms and open hearts, • Honestly the two of you are all so slow and soft and squishy pls
hello! So, this is gonna be original. I study english literature and I got a blessing to write my MA paper on fanfiction. so now I need long, complex, book-like complicated ff to analyse. Any ideas? I need something GOOD, with nicely created characters and complexly created universe. preferably no to little smut bc reading with your supervisor might get a bit awkward *.* thanks in advance!
Dude that sounds super interesting! I hope the pile I’m about to shove at you is helpful
In 1945, Steve Rogers jumps from a nosediving plane and swims through miles of Arctic Ocean to a frozen shore. In 1947, Steve Rogers marries Peggy Carter. In 1966, the New York Times finds the lost letters of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.
I’m going to take a break for a while,” Steve said quietly, not looking at T’Challa, not knowing that this was what he was gonna do until the words were out of his mouth. “I can’t be on a team right now.”
T’Challa nodded as if he understood. “Alright.”
AKA In which Steve and Bucky both figure out how to be a person again, and it still takes them over 130 years.
He’s not the Asset. He’s not the Winter Soldier. But neither is he Bucky Barnes. With the help of Steve, Sam and the Avengers, James takes the long, slow road to recovery. Nothing is as easy as either of them thought it would be.
Here we goooo! Another new fic. Will get all the warnings out of the way, for the duration of the fic: Kidnapping! Rape/Non-con! Mentions of sexual slavery! If anything else pops up as I go along, I will warn at the start of chapters. It’s going to be a dark, twisted fic.
AU!Tom is the leader of a ‘gang’ who deal with kidnapping girls and selling them on. But Tom comes across a girl that he grows rather fond of, so decides to keep her for himself.
Also in this, for faces: Michael Fassbender, Luke Evans and Chris Evans. I might add more as I go along.
I know this is a short chapter, but it’s just to get going.
Sunday Respite - Warlock Stock, ( - and Two Smoking Barrels)
Power is not … easy, I suppose it’d be fair to say. Upon the great, open battlefield of the everyday politics of life and living, there is no equal ground. A thousand-dozen variables add and subtract from whether today will be the one you turn upon those closest to you, or they do the same in a preemptive retaliation against your betrayal.
The same unwritten laws of life apply to the arcane and all strength beyond the confines of flesh and dirt. Some spend their days learning at the words of the generations who have passed before, taking their texts and adapting for the betterment of themselves. Others find fire burning at their fingertips; a great, roaring flame thundering within their chest - a birthright gifted by godlings like an ushering hand to a pawn. There are the rare few, however, who have neither pathway to follow, and instead sacrifice all that is sacred and pure in pursuit of such raw, unending power.
Warlocks are fantastic characters in a gruesome world, breeding with the verminous infections of consequences and the ill-thought actions that spawned them. The embodiment of risk - a lost soul, down to the skin on their
back and not a scrap more, offering the only thing of value they have left; themselves. Oh, what dominoes can fall from this most devilish of butterfly effects - the chains that will be linked, the echoes that will be felt through all of history. Only a fool would think that a deal with the less-than-divine would end with a mere handshake. Those pacts have thorns in their words - you will feel their sting.
Here are five profane, impractical, purposefully unprofessional practices of post-perchance pacts in painful places with potent persons of ill-repute. Have fun!
Cavos has the eyes of a man who forgot a certain something with no hope of its return. He watches the celebrations and revelry of his companions with a halfway look of happiness - a dreary somewhere between bittersweet and dry as salt. His reclusive nature is a persistent drain upon the comradery of anyone close enough to notice, as few as they are. He constantly sits behind the front lines of any confrontation - whether that be between the clash of foe and friend or the cheery clink of ale mugs by firelight. His hand sits at his stomach, scratching at the skin under his woolen robes and padded coat, but the itch never disappears, or it never existed. His hand, if witnessed fleetingly out of eye-corners or in double-takes, always seeks to go further up the chest, up to the heart, but retreats like the discouraged dog, whimpering back to his master’s knee when spooked in the dark. Noone besides Cavos knows why, with exception for Ald - the thing that gave him that itch. Old Ald, the world-singer, is a magician of sorts. He turns one thing into another with adept aplomb matched only by the artisans of old. You will not find his creations at the roadside or storefront, however. No, his performances are always set at a heavy price. Cavos can weave colour and fire through the air without a thought or fear of failure, but his mind always returns to that infernal signature of Ald’s interference - that infernal mark that he will never escape. Cavos has a hole through his chest, out to the other side, right where his heart once was; Ald’s pound of flesh; an ever-present reminder as to just who holds the strings of his life.
This squared length of material is a boiling stretch of black mists that dusts every surface touched with a light sprinkling of ebony powder - light as flour. It can be worn around the neck as easily as any other garment of more mundane manufacture, but only they who have earned it can wear it without breathlessly choking back the smog around their face. The cloak hates unknown peoples without exception. The wearer leaves a trail of wisps behind as they move that swiftly trails off into the air, dissipating into nothingness. Upon command, the wearer can issue forth a plume of smoke that envelops everything around in the same choking murk that it would excrete if worn by an unfamiliar, with similar effects. Those who die within the smoke, skin as lavender with the bulls-eyed expression of a terrible death, are claimed by the weaver of the cloak in the afterlife. It is said, that for every soul that they receive, another cloak is woven for another killer in another world.
A black leather strip - narrow as a finger, strong as bone - is strapped around the unfortunate prisoner’s neck. The skin above and below is reddened and raw. He complains without word, his eyes wrought with the pain and torture of something too tight to bear. His eyes prick at you as you pass, stabbing at your sanity with an arrow-head precision, but his face is flat, sagging at the jowls and eye sockets despite his youth. The collar cannot be removed, at least, not though knife or shear or scissor or flame - and he has begged for and received all, to no avail. Their is no buckle to undo and loosen or knot to snip. The leather is seamless all around. Just how it was applied is a mystery. Still, the prisoner is a criminal and a killer. You do not kill in this county without punishment from the Countess’ regiment. Whenever you speak of his punishment to come, he laughs off into the distance, eyes scanning the crest of the horizon longingly. He passes the threats away like childish banter. He only fears what stalks him at night. He screams under the moon about the beast that worms amongst the cages, the heat of its diseased breath rusting iron and putting plague upon the asleep. You cannot beat the screams out of him and he persists to wail through the night. And so now you gag him. Still, despite the silence, he looks to you like he knows the true face of his death, and it’s name - although he hasn’t blessed you with its mention, but you suspect from the tremor of his eyes that he does. The hazel portals into his head say more than his words could ever do. They have that damned confidence to them. A confidence that says to you that he could escape this cage; this prison; these guards. But, no matter how hard and long he tries, he cannot escape the collar, and he can never escape the beast.
The Bird Cage
Haley has her head in a bird cage hanging at her hip. It’s unusual, and she understands that. The sight of a woman who should, by all mortal comprehensions of vitality, be a twitching lump on ground, instead, walking about the roads in full health, is one to provoke more questions than answers. Her only comments on the matter is that it makes braiding her hair a less cumbersome task, and that it makes conversations difficult for the other side of it. Often she will be talking to an employer - their face taught with the strain of forced politeness - and her body will walk off to the bar to order drinks for the pair, leaving the head to negotiate. According to her brother, who refuses to interfere with the adventurer’s life, she found herself like this after winning a bet against a lesser demon when she was a teenager. They were to play a game of dice. If she won, the demon would grant her magical powers and prowess unlike that of clerics of conjurers. If she lost, the demon would have her head - he was terribly literal. The head was taken before the game as a deposit of sorts, severed by an all-but-lethal blade swing. She won the game of dice- just how, she and her brother either refuse to say or do not truly know. Either way, she cannot remove her head from its wicker cage. She is a regular patron at the local bakery, and has saved several villager’s lives over the years from disaster and demon alike - she considers it her specialty.
The Lonely Oak
The grassy plains of the eastern lowlands are wide and barren. Soft, waving fields of green roll with the winds that drive effortlessly inwards from the coast. There are no towns, no roads, and certainly no laws to adhere to under fear of retribution … except one. You do not approach the Lonely Oak. At the very deepest, most central point from any forest or wall, there is a single, enormous oak, the size of a cathedral. It is sprawling and vast with eons of unkempt growth. The trunk is as wide as a lake, and its millions of leaves rattle like the nighttime cries of a thousand silken cicadas, softly singing into the dusk, The earth for miles around is buckled from underneath by the powerful roots that have eaten through the soil and rock for centuries. This peaceful titan of iron-hide bark and towering branches is a silent silhouette on the horizon, and so it shall stay, for none dare to near its looming visage for even a step off of the beaten track. The Oak has a guardian; a wicked soul of covetous cruelty, hell-bent on defending the sovereignty of the Oak with every breath she can muster and spell she can cast. Over the endless years, she must have killed hundreds of refugees and travelers who do not know of her legend. Her ferocity is so feared that armies curve their warpath around the Oak’s border like a child through the shadows around the slumbering bear. This guardian speaks to the Lonely Oak and remains as a servant of its will until either she or her master is slain. Her powers, with which she can turn kingdoms back to their monarchs, are an ancient trade from the tree. His only price was undying loyalty. Whether she lives in harmony, or is desperately vying for release, is unknown. All that is certain is that, no matter who she was or wanted or wished, she accepted the offer.
Sometimes, John slips out of bed in the morning, when he knows it’s a ‘lie-in’ sort of day. He’ll leave Sherlock with a kiss on the top of his head. Sometimes, Sherlock will just about manage to stir and mumble “Enjoy,” before drifting back under again. Other times, he will simply sleep on, and John will smile at how his face is half-buried in the pillow.
John walks. It doesn’t matter where; it’s a different route he makes up each time. It can be the usual London Landmarks, where he’ll let the buzz of tourists wash over him, and imagines what Sherlock would deduce about each one. Endless stories around him, just waiting to be read.
And sometimes, John will go off the beaten track. He will find a little quiet bakery for breakfast, buy some rolls, maybe chat a little with whoever’s on the till. He will walk back home in warm sunshine or crisp air or rain, and love it no matter what. Those pre-Sherlock days where even getting out of bed seemed like an impossible chore are dull and faded.
He’ll get home and put the kettle on to boil.
And then, the wonderful sound of Sherlock’s footsteps.
“Morning,” Sherlock says around a yawn.
Once, John tries to reply but it gets somehow stuck. His heart is full at how perfect just this is, and words can’t possibly do it justice.
Sherlock smiles and his eyes crinkle with fondness.
“I know,” he murmurs. Gentle. Intimate. He kisses the corner of John’s mouth. “Me too.”
Scope Dogg’s Mecha Showcase: Hot Blooded Robot: Gekiganger 3
A while ago I did a series of reviews on various mecha series that are off-the-beaten-track compared to well-known series like Eva and Gundam in an effort to spread the love around. Having given it some thought, and having seen a few more series since then, I’ve decided to bring it back. Any spoilers within will typically be minor and only cover early plot details where possible.
Why you should watch it, in brief:
Probably the most underrated classic from the golden era of super robots. A series packed with fiery action that’s sure to excite and a mix of drama, romance and passion that will move the viewer’s very soul and inflame their manly fighting spirit.
In the future, humanity is beset by an alien invasion. The sinister Kyoakk Empire, led by their effete and cruel prince Akara, descends upon an unknowing and defenceless planet Earth. Humanity looks to be surely doomed, until a miraculous discovery is made - a wall painting inscribed by a super-ancient, technologically advanced civilisation. Upon it is a warning of the imminent invasion, as well as a trump card in the form of a blueprint for a mighty machine of battle - the great robot of justice, Gekiganger 3. Now it’s up to pilots Ken, Joe and Akira to use its power to save the world.
Episodes: 48 total (Gekiganger 3 29, Gekiganger V 19)
First Aired: 1975
Why you should watch it, in full:
The 70s and 80s were the heyday of the Super Robots, giant, invincible defenders of justice against the unspeakable enemies of justice. With the advent of Mobile Suit Gundam in 1979, there began a gradual shift towards gritty, more realistic, more nuanced stories in mecha anime, and the Real Robot subgenre emerged. While many of the most famous and acclaimed series in the genre’s history fall into this category, the shift away from Super Robots did lead to the loss of some of the spectacle and idealism that that genre represented. While it did re-emerge every so often in the form of more modern series like Gaogaigar, or more recently Gurren Lagann, these were always isolated, leaving fans of the subgenre looking wistfully back at memories of classic super robot series like Voltes V, Getter Robo and Mazinger Z. However, there’s one series that stands up with the very best of them - that being the stirring and epic Gekiganger saga, by Xebec studios. Boasting some of the best qualities of the era and inspiring fiery passion in the hearts of its legion of fans, Gekiganger is a series that shouldn’t be missed by anyone, and will surely be remembered as in inspiration well into the future. More after the break.
Definitely not a title you’ll see in the career section of your college library.
Sugaring is a lifestyle that is definitely off the beaten track, as we all know. No one’s really ever doing it because they love old, white dick. It’s the $$$. Come on. Let’s be honest.
So, getting right into it, if you want to be a sugar baby you need to do some forward planning.
- Why? Well money is why, right? But why do you need money? Remember, all your wants and needs are viable reasons. From rent and food to plastic surgery to designer clothes and shoes. You want what you want and you deserve to get it. But align what you want to what kind of arrangement you’re looking for. If you just want a bit of spending money then maybe pay per meet is more your speed, rack up a series of dates on WYP. If you need to cover rent and utilities, you’re going to need a steady flow of cash so you should look for an SD you can constantly rinse rather than a one-hit wonder from WYP.
- Where? The internet is your friend. I’m not going to list all the sugar dating sites you can join because you can find them all on the first page of Google. You hear of SBs finding everything from whales to blacklist material on each and every sugar dating site there is. Maybe start with one where you don’t have to pay a membership to get into practice with messaging POTs correctly. Freestyling, if you live in a city or even an affluent town, is where you frequent various fancy bars and restaurants to engage with rich men in their natural habitat.
Q: “I’ve calculated how much money I need and what gifts I want. I know my short term and long term goals and I know what kind of arrangement I want to have with an SD. I’ve just set up my SB account. Now what?”
A: Wait. The responses will begin to flow. Be polite, a little flirtatious, but be firm and no-nonsense. If you’re looking for a platonic SD, don’t put that out there right away. You ‘just want to get comfortable’ first, right? It takes experience alone to tell a diamond from a piece of coal, but if you simply use common sense, you can chat fluidly with these POTs.
Q: “This POT wants me to send pictures.”
A: If you have pictures but they’re on private then make sure you know something substantial about him and that he has real potential before you show your pictures to him. Don’t want to send pictures? ‘Actually, I’ve always had a fantasy about a blind date situation so I can see the look on your face when I walk in. Not to be vain, but I think I’ll impress ;p’ Or some bullshit. Men are idiots. And this, you’ll quickly learn.
Q: “This POT wants to meet. Where should we go?”
A: First ascertain his location and decide on a cafe or a bistro that makes up a middle ground. If he suggests a restaurant, always look it up beforehand. Never give your exact location at first. Always choose the town or neighbourhood closest. Never give the name of your college up front, choose a college near you. Always in public. Choose an area where you know there will be a lot of people around at all times and always arrange your own transport there and back.
Q: “He wants me to do stuff with him on the first date… What should I do?”
A: The only thing you do on a first date with a POT is shake hands when you meet and a hug and kiss on the cheek when you leave.
Q: “But what should I WEAR?”
A: Sometimes it’s better not to ‘look like money’. Especially if you’re playing the ‘poor college student’ fiddle and he’s the kind that specifies ‘no pros’. Girl, if you walk in with your YSL purse and your Loubs he’s going to be thinking you’re a successful escort. Of course your clothes depend on the time of day and the place, but honestly I’ve always thought that you can’t go wrong with a white or pastel sweater, a black stretchy mini skirt, black court shoes, a bag in a solid colour and minimal, delicate jewellery.
Q: “Should I talk about allowance on the first date?”
A: Now… I have mixed feelings on this personally. And it’s much more difficult to talk about an allowance with a guy you met through freestyling. Even I still have trouble finding the right time. I’d say leave the topic alone on the first date but slip it in through the aftermath of ‘I had a really great time’ texts. If he asks what your last arrangement was, there’s no harm giving him a figure (whether it’s real or not).
So. You’ve been on your first POT date and maybe he’s handed you a few extra twenties in your taxi money and you’re feeling like Belle De Jour at your laptop right now, but BE WARNED. No one has a carefree sugaring experience. Even the girls who post pictures of their stacks of cash and their Louis Vuittons are not immune to the odd crazy stalker, or the salty ass, or the Splenda you thought was a whale.
It’s not easy being an SB and, although it’s becoming popularized in movies and talk shows, it’s still a taboo choice that many will judge you for, from your friends to your family.
My last piece of advice? Make a sugaring tumblr and take part in the community so you can ask questions, check the blacklist and have fresh inspiration and horror stories to read.
yes please do a part two to ‘shes got you’ if you’re willing to :)
Since Sirius had died the Order felt that continuing to use his house as headquarters was disrespectful, and so Grimmauld place was somewhat abandoned. The house felt odd with just Y/N and Remus living there so when he had mentioned one night and mentioned that Tonks had offered him a place to live Y/N told him to go. Once there was some distance between the two of them Y/N thought the feelings might dissolve though this was not the case.
‘Most of us live in a world where more and more places and things are signposted, labelled, and officially ‘interpreted’. There is something about all this that is turning the reality of things into virtual reality. It is the reason why walking, cycling and swimming will always be subversive activities. They allow us to regain a sense of what is old and wild…, by getting off the beaten track and breaking free of the official version of things.