#Ye Olde Swiss Cottage | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alexbkrieger13 · 1 year

Note

Needed to entertain myself so decided to summarise the Svt Eurovision commentator for semi 1. Sorry in advance for the long post!

"My name is Edward af Sillén and I'm belonging to the dying species Eurovision experts.

It'll be a candy with flavours we couldn't dreamt about. Punk rock bands, 60 year old men in high heels, white Y-fronts, a fruity dictator and Putin's missiles as phallus symbols. And all of this are just in Croatia's entry!

And what a week for Great Britain! A few days ago they crowned a king and isn't it we hope to crown a queen before week's end? That queen is named Loreen Talhaoui

I can tell that the first song of the evening is the 1 541th to ever have competed in Eurovision. Good info to have if you have a SAT in front of you.

Like a spinning pass from Mordor. Alessandra, strong on the stage. From Norway to Malta, a country that in Eurovision often sings about angels, or peace, or about angels who want peace. But this year they're singing about us and about how socially awkward we've become after the life in quarantine and that we rather stay at home than go out to clubs. On the other hand, that's how I've felt since 2011.

Lovely The Busker! Guys who love to dance but evidentially CAN'T dance. Nice and relatable for most of us guys.

He calls himself Black because he as a teenager declared Serbia's music industry as dead, and wore black for 40 days in personal mourning. But besides that he seems to be a very positive guy, real fun at parties. Jokes aside, he does seem to be a very great guy.

I'm so happy I didn't have to stand behind and do hip hop-moves.

Marisa Mema performs under the name of Mimicat. Unclear why. Now you're many wondering if Mimicat indeed has a cat and I can tell you that yes, she has. The cat's name is Brownie. Mimicat's entry is about when the heart beats so hard that the body aches and you get dry in your mouth and dizzy. That's how it feels when you're in love. Could also be heart failure.

Ireland is Eurovision's own Bengt Dahlqvist. Usually they have another lead singer but he wasn't considered good looking enough for Eurovision. So instead one of the band's guys had to step up. And he does that in a gold coloured bodysuit just to better safe than sorry. Lock your daughters in! Here's Wild Youth from Ireland.

Grab onto something now... Croatia sends a bunch of 60 year olds so hard that Ireland's wild youth look like Mini-cottage cheese. It might look like it's the Grotesco-gang who've masqueraded and are pulling our legs but the fact is that this is a rather fantastic group with a long history of political activism through music. A bit like Croatia's equivalent to Nationalteatern. If they win on Saturday they've promised to sing the winner's reprisal completely nude. I'm not trying to influence your votes, I'm just thinking this is info you deserve to have before voting.

Yes! Y-fronts and pumps and a subtle melody. Croatia starts off hard. That gang's debut album was btw named Two Dogs Fucking and is as you understand a perfect record to put on in the background when you and wifey have an romantic evening with the food simmering on the stove.

Musical protests against the war can look in different ways, which becomes extra palpable now when Switzerland enters the stage after Croatia. He had his breakthrough at 18 years old when he won the Swiss The Voice. He's also competed in the German show I can see your voice, which should be impossible.

She's a fabulous singer, a brilliant lyrics writer, a dynamic dancer and a magical actress. All this according to her own website. Tonight's entry she has contributed with writing herself - Unicorn. And it was only a matter of time before a Eurovision song would be called that.

And him you've seen before. 2012 he competed in Baku and was defeated by Loreen. He can't only have been happy when he decided to return and got to hear Loreen would do the same. We're treated to sort of medieval performance extra-everything with women with horns, men who beat on drums and a man with a flute dressed as someone from Asterix. Did I say you're watching Eurovision?

Their music is Beatles inspired in bits. Very fitting now when we're in Liverpool.

Twins we've seen before in Eurovision. 1980 for example it was Sophie and Magaly for Luxembourg. 2014 it was Tolmachevy Sisters for Russia. 1994 it was Roger Pontare and Marie Bergman for Sweden. Well, perhaps Roger and Marie weren't biological twins but when they sang it felt like they came from the same egg.

During the song you'll hear the word corona several times. But that means crown and not corona. So if you've caught corona in Czechia congratulations are in order.

Dion was supposed to perform the song solo, but they felt it was too much like Arcade so they re-made the song into a duet. And that's why Mia walks beside him on the podium. And how fittingly perfect isn't that since Liverpool know better than anybody else that you never walk alone.

Finland. Yup, the neighborliness is but a memory. What Finland send is really effective. You're about to experience Finnish industry-techno, hardcore rap blended with cha cha in a song that ends in eurodisco and a synchronised conga line. All this performed by the irresistible Käärijä who 29 years old had a break through in the Finnish national selection and crushed all opposition. Before this he was as good as unknown in the home country. A bleeding colon inflammation that nearly took his life was an eye-opener, and he decided to go for the music seriously. So it's an inflamed large intestine which have given Finland their biggest shot at winning in a very long time.

In many ways Loreen's complete opposite, but a real challenger on Saturday."

Oh my god I love this thanks so much for this gem

#eurovision

0 notes

doggiefooditems · 1 year

Text

The taste of parmesan cheese sprinkled on pasta may appeal to your dog. Can Dogs Eat Parmesan Cheese? The answer is a resounding yes. Parmesan cheese can be fed to your dog in small amounts because it has a low lactose content. In contrast, dogs that are lactose intolerant should avoid eating it. The salt content makes it better to use it grated or sprinkled on food rather than adding it in bulk. Do you want to know more about parmesan cheese for dogs? This article explains how to feed parmesan cheese to your dog safely. A brief introduction to Parmesan Cheese. Two places in Italy produce Parmesan: Reggio Emilia and Parma. Due to its hardness, it contains fewer lactose calories than softer cheeses, similar to mozzarella. Moreover, it contains more sodium than non-aged cheese since it is a 12-month-old cheese. Do dogs benefit from parmesan cheese? There is a high incidence of lactose intolerance in dogs. Lactase is not present in their bodies, so milk sugars cannot be digested by them. However, Parmesan is a hard cheese that contains less lactose than other softer cheeses so it may be digestible for your pup. Salt is applied to Parmesan in the form of a preservative. As a result, dogs who eat Parmesan can develop salt toxicity. If your dog has cardiovascular or renal disease, you should be very careful with salty foods. The safest cheese options for your dog? Low-fat, low-lactose cheese is safe for dogs to eat. A dog's diet can even include fermented cheese. There are several types of cheese that your dog can eat. Cheddar cheese contains little lactose, so it's safe for dogs. Swiss Cheese: It contains low levels of lactose as well. Cottage Cheese: Calcium and protein are present in cottage cheese, along with low lactose and fat levels. This makes them safe. Parmesan Cheese: Low lactose content makes Parmesan cheese safe for dogs. Mozzarella Cheese: Mozzarella cheese is low in sodium and fat, so it is a safe option. Parmesan cheese for dogs: what are the benefits? Cheese is very popular among dogs. Several health benefits can be gained by giving cheese to your pet. Cheese is high in calcium and a healthy source of vitamins. Calcium is essential for the health of a dog's bones and cartilage. Calcium is essential for the development of puppies to maintain an adult dog's bone mass, and it is also required to prevent fractures in older dogs. Parmesan cheese also contains significant amounts of vitamins A and B12. If it is conducive to your dog's health, you can occasionally feed him parmesan cheese. Parmesan Cheese for Dogs: What Should You Feed Them? Adding cheese to your dog's food makes them smile, so you can use it occasionally as a treat to encourage polite behavior. Dogs are best rewarded with cheese as a treat. Here are the instructions: Dogs can devour grated parmesan cheese. So, to avoid choking, you should always give your pet cheese in small pieces and chunks. Additionally, they can eat powdered parmesan cheese or small pieces. How Can Parmesan Cheese Affect Your Dog? Dogs can tolerate small amounts of Parmesan better than other cheeses. It is still possible for your dog to suffer from digestive upset if he consumes large quantities. Intolerance to lactose in dogs may appear: Having a painful stomach Diarrhea Bloating Appetite deficit Parmesan is higher in salt. Due to this, the chances of salt toxicity are high. Salt toxicity symptoms include: Nausea Weakness Fatigue Anxiety A lack of appetite Muscle spasms, convulsions, and seizures Drinking and urinating excessively The effects of salt toxicity can result in comas and death if not treated immediately. Parmesan consumption should be treated immediately by a veterinarian. Frequently asked questions? Are all cheeses suitable for dogs? The majority of cheeses are safe for dogs. However, some types, such as blue cheese, should be

avoided. The following cheeses can be deadly to dogs: Dogs can become ill from blue cheese because of mold. Goat cheese is a creamy product rich in lactose and fat. And feta cheese is also high in lactose, fat, and sodium, making it a poor choice for healthy eating. The same applies to brie cheese as its high lactose and fat levels. Therefore, you must make sure your dog does not consume these cheeses. What to do about a dog that ate parmesan cheese? The first step is determining whether your dog ate Parmesan and measuring how much it consumed. Imagine they consumed much cheese. You might need to consult your veterinarian to determine whether they need medical attention or if we can wait it out. Is Parmesan cheese unhealthy for dogs? Parmesan cheese is highly nutritional, so it is suitable for dogs. They can be offered small amounts or sprinkled on their food since it is not harmful. Due to its high sodium content, Parmesan cheese should be fed to your dog only occasionally. What is the safe amount of Parmesan cheese? The size of your dog determines how much parmesan cheese to feed. You only need half a teaspoon of grated cheese if your dog is a small breed. If your dog is a medium or large breed, one teaspoon or one and a half teaspoons of grated cheese should be sufficient. Conclusion The answer is yes; your dog can eat parmesan cheese! Parmesan cheese is a tasty treat for dogs. It contains calcium and vitamins that are essential for their health. Even though it's safe, don't overfeed them. It's best not to give cheese to your dog with lactose intolerance. You should avoid certain types of cheese if you own a dog. For example, blue cheese is toxic to dogs, so avoid feeding it to them. Don't give cheese in big chunks to your dog, and don't give him anything new without having adequate knowledge.

0 notes

samsmithwhitty · 7 years

Photo

Ye Olde Swiss Cottage

#yeoldeswisscottage #photo #london #swiss cottage #samuel smith #samuel smith brewery #samuel smith beer #samuel smith pub #ye olde swiss cottage #london pub #pub life #english pub

1 note · View note

chudleycanonficfest · 3 years

Text

The Greenhouse

Day 2, Story #2 is by @zurisenchantedquill

Title: The Greenhouse

Author/Artist: zurimadison

Pairing: Neville/ Hannah

Prompt: Wedding & Proposal

Rating: Teen

Trigger Warning(s) (if any): n/a

______

The sun was setting in brilliant shades of pink and orange, reflecting off the grey cotton ball clouds that were scattered across the sky. From where she stood in the kitchen, gazing out of the window as she washed up after dinner, Hannah watched the burning sphere sink behind the hills in the distance, leaving in its wake concentrated rays of soft yellow light.

The gentle clinking of ceramic and the movement of water in the sink were the only sounds in the house aside from Hannah’s quiet humming as she finished her task, basking in the view. The cobblestone path leading to the front door was flanked by tall grasses and flowers that grew wild on the country hillside, meeting the edge of a small duck pond beside which the faded white cottage was perched. The trees, green and heavy in the height of summer, swayed in the delicate breeze that also caused the surface of the pond to be perpetually disturbed, the ripples distorting the water’s reflection of the multicolor evening sky.

She left the dishes drying on a terry cloth towel, preparing two mugs of steaming tea that she carried out the back French doors of the cottage. She followed a well-packed dirt path that curved around a large oak tree and traveled parallel to the ruins of an old stone wall, overrun by weeds, until it reached the foot of a modest greenhouse. The structure was the newest addition to the property, it’s base made of solid red bricks and the top still boasting a pristinely painted white frame with polished, intact glass panes. She could just make out the silhouette of a person moving inside, and unconsciously sped her pace.

The door opened in her presence, closing silently behind her as she sidled through the gap. She placed the mugs of tea on the center table, pulling up a stool as she watched Neville putter around the space. She could hear the muffled music from his headphones, the iPod that her cousin had helped her set up clipped to the waist of his jeans. He was repotting a plant with large, flat leaves, though the patterns of the holes that’d naturally developed across its foliage reminded her strongly of swiss cheese.

He worked diligently, sweat dripping down the side of the temple and hanging on the edge of his jaw. His features were contorted with concentration, but even then, Hannah thought he looked more relaxed when he was in his greenhouse than in most other circumstances. She’d had the idea to get him an iPod after he’d mentioned that he sometimes struggled to relax in the quiet, like he was waiting for something to disturb the silence.

She loved spending time with Neville in their new greenhouse, though occasionally she could hardly believe the string of events that’d brought them to this point. Despite knowing of each other since their early days at Hogwarts, Hannah never noticed Neville like that until the year of the Carrows.

She willed herself to breathe deeply, moving her thoughts away from the terrors of that time and focusing instead on what’d attracted her to the man she shared a home with now. He’d been the most noble student at the school that year. He had an unerring moral compass, but was still patient and understanding with people who weren’t ready to be as brave as he. He was kind, he was adorably shy, and (she gulped as she watched another bead of sweat trickle along a vein in his neck and disappear into the V of his shirt) he was good-looking as hell.

Still, she hadn’t been able to work up the nerve in time to do anything about her schoolgirl crush, and they’d gone their separate ways after the war. She was lucky that fate had other ideas, and within a couple of years she found herself the new proprietor of one of the most visited pubs in wizarding Britain. When he’d first walked through her doors, bringing with him all the old feelings she didn’t know she still had, she couldn’t let him leave without trying.

She’d blurted it at him loudly when he was halfway out the door.

“Willyougooutwithme?”

The entire pub had gone silent, and she knew her cheeks were flushed pink. She’d waited on bated breath while he’d turned around, staring at her as though amazed. Her stomach fluttered at the memory of the brilliant smile that’d overtaken his face before he’d said the one word that’d forever changed the trajectories of their lives.

“Yes.”

What followed was three years of dating, of dealing with post war trauma, of learning how to communicate, of reassuring Neville of her feelings, of being very surprised at how much he was willing to take charge when he felt reassured, of deciding to move in together, of choosing to live in simplicity in the country, of learning of Neville’s passions, of knowing when to stay silent to let him speak, of understanding when he needed her to push him, and of the realization of a singular, resolute truth she felt in her bones.

“Hey, you.” While she’d been lost in thought, Neville had noticed her presence. He pulled his headphones down on his neck and smiled, wiping the soil from his hands with a towel. He crossed the space between them, touching her cheek gently. “What’re you thinking about?”

She met his eyes, today a warm brown in the center that faded to a grey green on the outside, and she couldn’t stop the words. “Marry me?”

His eyebrows moved towards each other, creasing his forehead as he blinked several times. “What?”

She placed her hand on top of his, still cupping her face, and beamed at him. “Marry me, Neville.” She gestured around the greenhouse. “Let’s you and I make each other happy like this for the rest of our lives.”

His grin rivaled that of the day she’d first asked him out. He bounded across the greenhouse, leaving her alone, confused at the large table as he rifled around in the aprons hanging on the back wall, muttering to himself.

“There it is,” he exclaimed, running back to her with his fist clenched tight. He sat on the stool in front of her, the look on his face reminding her of a child on Christmas. “Ready?”

He still hadn’t answered her question, but his excitement and her curiosity got the better of her, so she nodded anyway. “Sure.”

He held his hand out, uncurling his fingers so she could see what sat so proudly in his palm. The band of the ring was pale green, shaped like tiny, delicately linked ivy leaves that’d grown in a perfect circle. From the top of the ring a small flower seemed to bloom, yellow and icy, so realistic she could have sworn the petals might fall if she touched them.

It was her turn to be surprised, and she paused for several moments as she stared at the ring. He waited, watching her with eager eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, and when she met his gaze this time, she felt a lump growing in her throat. “How long have you had it?”

“Since we moved in together,” he admitted, smiling at her bashfully.

“Why wait so long?”

“I didn’t know if you wanted to get married.” He was fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, though the other hand still held the ring out to her. “We’re so happy, and I don’t want you to feel pressured. I just want to be with you.” He shrugged, picking up the ring and holding it between two fingers. “With or without this. All I want is you.”

“Neville.” A few tears fell down her cheeks as her heart melted, and, unable to say anything else, she pressed her lips against his and pulled him in for a hug, burying her face into his shirt. Her voice was muffled when she finally managed words. “Let’s do it with, then.”

There was a pleasant vibration in his chest as he pulled her to arm’s distance and searched her face. “Yeah?”

She nodded, half laughing, half crying. “Yeah.”

“So we’re getting married?”

She held out her hand and he pushed the ring with slow, deliberate purpose onto her finger. Her heart was hammering, and she admired how it looked against her skin and how small her fingers were in his palm. Everything was perfect.

She looked up, returning his grin with enthusiasm. “Does this mean you say yes?”

He laughed and swept her off the stool, cradling her close to his body as he murmured against her lips.

“Yes.”

#chudley canon fest #chudleycanonficfest #hp canon pairings #hp canon romantic pairings #neville x hannah

75 notes · View notes

sxvxrxssnape · 4 years

Text

broken crayons and half a peanut butter cracker

snapetober day 28: “what did you do?” / day 25: headache plot what plot? there’s no plot in parenthood

Tentatively, he opened his eyes.

There wasn’t an immediate assault of pain as he blinked through the tired haze still enveloping him, so he figured it was safe to fully open them. Severus sat up, carding lazy fingers through his hair, and glared at the part in his curtains that allowed soft sunlight to filter into his bedroom.

He had gone to bed last night, suffering, after finding his jar of headache balm both empty and repurposed for inane childish use. He’d immediately binned the idea of staying up to brew a new batch, electing for an early bedtime and a moment of well-deserved peace under cool sheets instead.

It was early, especially for a Sunday morning, but the bright June sun had no qualms against rising as such. He might as well take this time to brew, before the next inevitable headache came.

Dressing quietly in a pair of trousers and a grey henley, Severus crept out of his room and peered through the door across the hall. He could make out the sprawled-out outline of a toddler fast asleep in their crib, the knitted blanket Minerva had made him only covering a singular foot. He sighed as he made out the rising and falling of a tiny chest and flicked his wand to fix the discarded blanket before closing the door with a gentle click.

He still wondered how they both ended up here.

There was a twist in his stomach, a tug on a shard of something sharp in his chest, whenever he thought about Lily. It had only been a couple of months since she had died - since she had been killed, not just at the hands of the Dark Lord, but in a way, also at the hands of himself.

Taking in the child who had nowhere else to go was the least he could do.

Jumping off the Astronomy Tower was the other, but Albus had warded the Observation Deck not too long after his breakdown in the circular office and though it irked him that the Headmaster had such little faith in his - admittedly - suicidal potions professor, he should at least know Severus wouldn’t do something quite so. . .dramatic.

Or maybe he would.

Fine, Albus had a point, but Severus was still allowed to be mad about it.

He grimaced as he walked into a discarded toy, accidentally causing the contraption of colorful plastic to light up and start singing. His wand was still in his hand, so he cast a silencing charm over the boy’s door and flicked the off switch on the activity cube.

The cube wasn’t the only thing littering the corridor, or the rest of his living space truth be told, and he could feel the remnants of last night’s headache reigniting. He could make out a half dozen jars scattered on the floor as well and scowled as he picked up the one holding something inside.

If that little brat was playing with expensive potion ingredients, he was going to owl him back to Hogwarts and demand Albus rehome him, no living relatives be damned.

Instead, he found it full of broken crayons and half a peanut butter cracker.

On second thought, he might just rehome him anyway.

He stalked into the kitchen and started brewing a pot of coffee, mentally going over the ingredients he would need to brew the much-needed headache balm. The sweet, earthy smell of dark-roasted Columbian beans permeated the air now, so he poured himself a mug and stirred in sugar.

He shook his head at the choice of mug - a tacky green thing that read “happy holidays” in the worst possible font - and took a long sip. It had been a gift from a first year - and not even one of his own first years at that, but a bloody Hufflepuff who wasn’t even good at potions - but last Christmas had been his first ever as a professor and despite scowling down at the child when handed the gift, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something whenever he looked at it.

So yes, he had packed up the stupid mug when term ended and it was time to go. It wasn’t even the strangest thing he had packed up. This time, he had an orphaned toddler he had been coerced - manipulated, guilt-tripped, asked by the child’s own dead mother, take your bloody pick - into taking with him.

At least he didn’t have to return to Spinner’s End.

If being handed the keys to a small cottage in Solva was the payment for raising a child, he supposed he could have done worse. Of course, the little house hadn’t been chosen with his comfort in mind, but more with the safety and well being of The Boy Who Lived.

Oh, Merlin.

He was really doing this, wasn’t he?

It had been easy when the school year was still ongoing - Minerva and Pomona especially, were keen to take little Harry Potter off his hands whenever he had a class to teach or potions to brew. He had just gotten the hang of walking then and could often be found stumbling through the castle corridors and babbling away to bewildered portraits and students alike.

Now though? Now it was him and him alone against an almost two-year-old who was insistent on getting into everything and disregarding every boundary Severus had set. He was just like his wretched father, but Minerva had simply laughed at him and insisted that’s just how toddlers were.

He didn’t bother to point out she had inadvertently called James Potter a toddler.

He was too busy freaking out over how his path had led him to this particular point in life. He didn’t know how to be a father - all he had to go off was what not to do, and that largely consisted of not shoving a child down the stairs or drinking himself stupid.

Severus finished his coffee and set the empty mug aside. He opened a cabinet and began pulling out what he would need, easily settling into the familiar routine of filling the cauldron with water, picking marjoram and peppermint from the windowsill planter, prepping his ingredients, and began brewing.

This wasn’t the first time he’d nearly thought himself into an anxiety attack over Harry’s permanent existence in his life. He didn’t even care how it had happened anymore, all he cared about was keeping the boy alive for the summer.

He’d deal with the the rest of his life part later.

He fished out the steeped bitterroots from the simmering cauldron and moved them to the cutting board, finely chopping up the softened magenta plant. Normally, he would discard them after this step, but he was intent on experimenting this morning in hopes of increasing the potency while also decreasing its unfortunate side effect of putting him to sleep after a few hours.

These days, he needed to be more alert and clear-headed.

Keeping the bitterroot in should do just that.

“Let’s see what happens then.”

Severus dropped about half of the chopped bitterroot into the cauldron and watched it carefully, wand at the ready in case the potion had an adverse reaction. The light blue brew was slowly becoming grey and he pursed his lips, adding a few more drops of peppermint oil as an inhibitor and nodded when the potion turned back to blue.

He turned the flames off and floated the cauldron onto the kitchen table, resting the hot pewter on top of a wayward oven mitt, admiring the ribbons of herb scented steam that curled from the finished potion. Now it just had to cool before he could store it - or test it.

Setting the cutting board back on the table, he took his assortment of knives and measuring devices to the sink and spelled the tap on. As water ran over the dishes, he began rifling through the refrigerator for anything he could use for breakfast.

It seemed they needed to make a trip to the local market soon - this afternoon, preferably - and he scowled at the thought. Picking up groceries wouldn’t be such a chore, he thought, if someone didn’t insist on picking up every interesting stone they passed or kept veering off the path to follow the ducks.

He was holding onto a carton of eggs and was moving aside containers of unlabeled potion ingredients for the last bit of swiss he knew was somewhere, when he heard an excited little yell sound off behind him.

He peered over his shoulder and dropped the carton of eggs in alarm.

“What are you - get down from there!” he shouted, taking in the scene before him.

The messy-haired, green-eyed one year old that should still have been asleep was now perched on top of the table - and how the bloody hell had he managed to climb up there?! - and was peering curiously into the waiting cauldron.

Harry had stepped in the remaining bitterroot and had a tiny fist full of Merlin knows what, and was sprinkling his finds into the cauldron just as he had seen his guardian do many times before.

Severus whipped out his wand and cast a shield charm on the cauldron as he rushed to the table and picked up the delighted child, moving him out of the way before the potion could potentially explode.

“What did you do?!” he demanded of the insufferable toddler, setting him down on the farthest possible counter and glaring down at him.

In response, Harry only clapped his hands and tried to peer over his guardian’s shoulder. “Ba!” he squealed, pointing at the cauldron.

Severus rubbed at his temple, another headache threatening to flare up. How had he been so careless to not listen in for Harry? To leave the cauldron somewhere he could reach - and how had he?! Hadn’t he learned better by now? The boy had been in his care for how long now? Six months altogether? Two weeks out of Hogwarts? And Merlin, what a mistake this was turning out to be.

He rested his forehead against Harry’s for a moment before setting him back down. He had half a mind to floo call Minerva and ask her to take Harry for the day while he brewed a new batch of headache balm and maybe drafted a plan to off himself.

He returned to the abandoned cauldron and blinked. The potion was still the same shade of blue he had left it. He swirled a stirring stick through it and eyed it carefully, but the balm soon became a muddy brown as he fully incorporated whatever Harry had added.

He tested a small bit of the potion on the inside of his wrist and hissed as the skin blistered, immediately wiping the ruined potion off on the hem of his shirt. He turned to glare at the toddler and found he had wandered over to the discarded carton of now-broken eggs and was playing with bits of shell, a bit of yolk rubbed into his curls.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake.” he sighed, in equal parts amusement and defeat. “What are you doing now?”

He vanished the eggs, much to the child’s confusion and levitated the spelled-clean, pajama-clad boy into the air. “Come, Mr. Potter, I believe we have breakfast to locate.” He reached over and turned the still running tap off and grabbed the floating child.

He hoped Minerva wouldn’t mind the company.

“Nack?”

Severus shook his head, biting back an affectionate grin as he grabbed his cloak and a handful of floo powder. “Yes, you can have a snack.” he confirmed, with a very serious voice, tossing the powder into the grate.

He draped the cloak over the boy, covering his face, and stepped into the fireplace. ------ self-indulgent trash where i based baby harry off what my own toddler did? he didnt ruin a headache balm but he definitely decided to drop a handful of odds and ends into my coffee cup so same thing. the egg incident was a nightmare and sev should consider himself lucky that he has magic

anyway, hello, for my birthday today i wrote neurotic dad!snape i might delete bc ik how dumb this was

#snapetober 2020 #severitus #snapedom #severus snape

87 notes · View notes

sugar-petals · 5 years

Text

:: BTS As Your Vampire Boyfriends

warnings ⚠️ smut, blood mentions, fangs kink

♡ Includes places they gravitate towards and countries they lived in, with their current residence in italics. Imagined in a world where a vampire bite will not convert a human, but rather, where species coexist without interference.

↳ NOTE › fuck yeah, bangtan vamps! some bits are juicier, some fluffier, some funny, some heart-wrenching or romantic. you’re in for a surprise 🤓 enjoy!

⌈ Jimin ⌋ ➝ Urban Vampire. 20 years old. USA, Italy, Sweden. Dresses like your typical haute couture vanguard, complete with bow ties and fishnets. Always has the latest pop culture news from SNS to chat about. Majors in? You guessed it, fashion design. Frequents high-rise apartments of his talkative New Yorker friends, wears huge square shades to fend off sunlight whenever he can. But also just because. The new boutique around the corner? Jimin was the first one to buy that 307$ gleaming Versace choker when it opened. In gold. He might have gotten the $520 guilty pleasure loafers as well. Yes, he does own more shoes than you do. 90 pairs to be exact, it needs a separate closet. He will try on several a night even when you don’t go out and just kiss watching a movie. What on earth is the reason behind all that? It’s to look good for your human eyes only. After all, he can’t see himself in the mirror. If he’s bound to outlive you by fate, he says, at least you’ll get to see him at his very best for the time being. He condenses several of his future lives into the limited one with you. A dazzling outfit can be that diversion and solace. Changing it often makes him feel like living faster, even if he’s headed for immortality. You decided to get a couple wrist tattoo on that last September. Carpe Diem, seize the day.

So there’s a lot to do together. Bucket list after bucket list. But there’s still a routine. Jimin loves destroying his friends at Friday night bowling yet can’t help but let you win every time. No matter how much you provoke him, the guy will aim at the gutters. You actually met at bowling back then. Eleven months ago, at your bff’s b-day party where he was introduced to you as Park, inofficial Prince of Manhattan with a love for sweet blood, orgies, and fiery ladies. The orgies part turned out to be a rumor, but he does say you have sweet blood. Even if it’s bad etiquette among vampires and he knows how much of a vice it is, Jimin loves to subtly show off in front of werewolves and witchers with popular ig accounts about how affluent his vampire family is at underground runway shows. Or sometimes, even fancy dinners where he orders dish after dish for the two of you. His friends suspect it’s all to compensate for how small his canines are since Jimin dearly wishes they were pointier. You’ve assured him that it’s not just better for your neck but also oral sex in general. He’s devilishly good at that. A born lover. Small canines are cute and fashionable anyways, all other talk is bogus. Having a vampire boyfriend remains a special feat and wild ride. But it’s definitely worth it.

⌈ Yoongi ⌋ ➝ Metro Vampire. 27 years old. Japan, Nigeria, South Korea. Dressed in all black, hoodies and stretchy jeans galore. Studied dental sciences in Lagos and has quite some polished teeth himself, but hardly puts them to use nowadays because he’s been getting more Zen about it. Instead, he can’t live without the internet. It distracts him from any urges and thinking about the future, and teaches his inquisitive mind about everything he needs to know about navigating the wide human world beyond the subway. He travels from station to station in Sapporo with a ticket for eternity and the security of less sunlight, always in search for the best Wi-Fi to text you. Even after two years of dating, Yoongi is still fangs over heels in love. And, needless to say, fascinated by the antics of humankind. When you are preoccupied with work at a restaurant in the afternoon, he jobs as a casual broker with contacts to the griffin elites that run the financial market of mystical creatures.

He frequently jokes that metro vampires are in fact metrosexual. Sometimes visits casinos to kill some time and watch people out of curiosity. His magical ability has caused several power downs in nearby flat complexes — strangely, never the one he is in — but its purpose and origin remain unknown. He’s consulted a supposedly wise street demon about it once but only got a long burp as an answer. Rude. So he travels on and on with the tube. He’s not as much on the go as it always seems, however. Yoongi spends a lot of his time gaming and lounging in your basement. Pretty much naked even if you don’t have sweaty sex at 3 AM. Although, when is it not 3 AM. You’ve developed a little late-night routine there. You bring him coffee, chat, make out, he buzzes you off with your favorite vibrator, you give him slow blowjobs that he records on his phone with shaky hands. Sometimes, with rimming involved, and more action later that night. Yoongi needs to eat pussy to stay on track, otherwise, he falls apart. He’s longing to kiss your breasts all the time and you hold hands when it gets steamy. No biting, he controls himself since he took too much one time. Because he hates planes, Yoongi once crossed the Atlantic in a cargo ship’s high cube not having blood for weeks. After compelling him to suck your whole body off cause dammit I’ve missed your lips, too, vamp guy, you were iron deficient for a month. Yoongi, forever apologetic, has made it a habit to buy you vitamin juice ever since, and orders his blood online.

⌈ Jungkook ⌋ ➝ Forest Vampire. 261 years old. Canada, Bolivia, Ukraine. Dressed in a large flaxen coat and heavy boots. Owns a distant log cabin between scenic, dense firs in the Rocky Mountains. Where most of his day is all about chopping and stacking firewood to take his laser focus off blood cravings and not so random boners. He daydreams of you moaning in just about every hot position possible. Sometimes pleasuring yourself or grinding on his cock. And your fucking scent. It’s what really makes him hard. And tremendously flustered. He could be 261 million years old, it would still catch him off guard to suddenly remember the smell of your sweat and hair. The first time experiencing it, Jungkook shortly blacked out and salivated on the ground for 15 minutes. Human pheromones are just about every forest vampire’s favorite addiction. Out of all BTS members, he is the most sensitive to light or artificial noise and instinct-reliant, so he tries to be cautious. Regardless, always hoping that you fill his mind with your red-hot image. This guy is so whipped — at this point, he can sell a portion of the wood he chops daily and still heat the oven for weeks with the rest.

Nature has everything he desires. Silence, vastness. It’s peaceful. A lot of animals roam the area. It calms his fantasies to some degree. He’s spent many decades in the Amazon rainforest, it’s no surprise. He likes to watch deer and talks to the occasional satyr past midnight. Doesn’t own a lot of money, but knows how to prepare a hearty meal for you when you visit him. That’s what makes JK feel like a million dollars. And once the plate is empty: Time for carnal sex. He can fuck for two hours, one even on a bad day. When he drinks from you, the sheer neck stimulation through sucks alone can make you approach orgasm. With a little help from his fingers on your clit, boy is he gonna blow your mind. This shit will teleport you into alien dimensions. He won’t aim for anything less. Whatever his saliva does, it infuses you with serotonin for two, three days after, and your friends back home know with one glance: Cabin guy did it again. You’ll both be lightheaded and covered in hickeys by the end of your encounters if the weather is particularly indoorsy and you don’t go fishing. He wishes he’d never have to come to a city because of the bustling streets and lack of forest fairies that soothe his mind. But sometimes, buying new clothes is due. You go to a comparatively manageable shopping mall after rush hour where you can’t keep your hands off each other in the dressing rooms. Life with JK won’t ever bore you, that’s guaranteed. The cherry on top: He wields an unregistered type of magic that can manipulate all kinds of water streams — he’s created a little creak beside his cabin and named it after you.

⌈ Seokjin ⌋ ➝ Cottage Vampire. 311 years old. Switzerland, Morocco, and Mongolia. Dresses all cozy with big sweaters and trench coats. Jin sells self-grown fruit and vegetables at the market downtown on Saturdays and Sundays. With vivid gestures and plenty of small talk topics up his sleeve, he befriends just about any stranger with two minutes spare time to talk about cheese, chocolate, and the notoriously high prices. Jin is among the most popular stall owners because of the many discounts he grants literally anybody. The Swiss way of very neat, organized, and especially neutral living appeals to Jin who has seen far too many messy wars go down since he was turned into a vampire. You didn’t believe it at first: By a British royal named Hamish back in 1708, inheriting him a magical ability to learn languages particularly fast so his Swiss German is perfected to a T. Jin is an utmost textbook rural sweetheart of the village. He takes care of the cottage with you like clockwork. Watering the herbs, painting walls here and there, cleaning the kitchen, always saying hi to the neighbors. Drinking tea on the terrace, with some cheesecake and cream on the fork, watching the cornfields sway in the wind is the good life. Simple, but meaningful.

There are a lot of lively and busy little blackbirds around the house joining you to pick up some crumbs, and Jin turns on the radio to play old-fashioned folk music of whatever Alp orchestra was recorded thirty years ago. The cake is gone all too soon, and the sun sets. You’re happy. Jin is a loyal and moral vampire who has adopted a vegetarian diet ten years ago and didn’t look back once. No cheating! Even if the market sells a lot of tasty ham and sausages. He’s sworn off that. After 311 years, even vampires start to think about their diet. A lot of fellow vamps in the area think he’s one strange guy, but Jin won’t bother. He gets all of his blood from a nearby hospital for a hefty price because he doesn’t want to drink from you all the time no matter how much you ask him. Sex is a better pastime. Chocolate lover Kim got a big dick and decades worth of time developing how to use it. Jin, when he does nibble at you, also has a very pleasant bite that doesn’t leave marks or just about any kind of bruise. He doesn’t want to tell you his secret because apparently, an old and rather nit-picky basilisk told him. Somewhere in a dusty attic of a Marrakesh craft store selling lamps and the most splendid of perfumes, 170 years ago. If he spills the beans, the special trick is dissolved. So... hush. Some things are better left top secret when it comes to basilisk magic.

⌈ Taehyung ⌋ ➝ Museum Vampire. 750 years old. Paris, London, and Sydney. Always dons crisp vintage tuxedos in the muted, heavily tailored style of the 1920s. He’s gotten attached to that era. Unsurprisingly, museum vampires are truly nostalgic creatures. Perhaps, also a bit melancholic at one point. Immortality is a two-edged sword. So, Taehyung clings to everything that endures the times. Statues, rustic vases, coin collections, preserved tunics, temple relics, especially fossils of all kind. His favorite place to roam at night is the museum shop or department for Greek, Etruscan, and Roman Antiquities. And indeed, it is the Louvre, what other museum could it be. Taehyung has mastered a convenient invisibility spell at the whooping age of 142 by chance after sneaking around the graveyard of Montmartre, trying to blend in with some friendly ghosts who taught him a trick or two. So the CCTV and guards don’t pick up on him unless he manipulates objects displayed in the exhibitions.

Which he feels tempted to. But Taehyung prefers to meet you in a snug alley café at dawn. The one where they don’t serve garlic-heavy dishes. You’ve already seen so much of the museum together in the course of a 4-year relationship. And he can’t possibly dick you down in the gallery of Dutch and Italian masters no matter how horny either of you is, mind you. You’d get anemic fast if you’d be sucking and fucking all the time anyways, and Taehyung really isn’t down to take a lot of blood from you. A little, as you always call it, prick’n’lick is what he usually goes for when you have time to meet in your flat. And maybe a deep, warm creampie to top it off because he knows that his semen does some stuff to you that only vampire magic can cause. You’ll be giddy and talk complete nonsense about Dadaism, Kahlo, and Kandinsky for three hours. Pregnant you can’t get since human with human, vampire with vampire is how the math goes. But extremely high, apparently. So, prick’n’lick. Your favorite activity. Talk about oral fixation: Vampire Tae has a strong obsession with strawberry ice cream. And... caressing your body, seriously. He is into some major VDA (Vampiric Displays of Affection). Believes that in your past life, you were the grand dame Mona Lisa herself. And a flapper. He writes poems about that and keeps them in a huge diary in the cellar of the Louvre. Some bittersweet, some sensual, some full of adoration. You treasure your time with him, always.

⌈ Hoseok ⌋ ➝ Castle Vampire. 1827 years old. UK (Scotland), Greece, China. Dresses exactly the way you think a dapper castle vamp is suited up. Ruffles, tight pants, gloves, large hats with feathers, tons of Italian lace, even slightly heeled shoes with pointed toes. Has been alive when Sparta was still a thing, saw what went down in the uproar of the actual French Revolution in passing, met Marilyn Monroe, almost got on the Titanic as a passenger, but has enjoyed the Rennaissance the most so far so there’s that. He lived in forts, churches, and even a small barn for some parts of his life until deciding to buy himself a fucking hilltop palace where you can live together. Because lavish castles are, ultimately, what appeals to Hoseok the most, and there is definitely enough space for all of your interests ... and sex toys. Anyway. How did all of that begin. So: The two of you met at a medieval exhibit in Perth where they displayed armors and pieces of weaving. Fell for each other, bonded over a kaleidoscope of shared interests, history knowledge in particular. Hoseok enjoys conversations about mythology, he loves that. And binging a lot of shows on Netflix. Gotta bridge the old and the new. Not that he doesn’t own a giant home theatre with perfect sound system. Maybe he just wants to cuddle up with you in bed and sob when another character dies together so the entire castle staff will hear. No worries though, they’re used to it.

Netflix aside: Aristocracy makes him feel at home. The sunshine regularly hosts interspecies balls with flamboyant masquerade themes so everyone can show up how they’re comfortable. That concerns particularly the slightly introverted elves and shapeshifters from downtown. The last huge ball went under the motto ‘The Glamor of Old Hollywood’ and you dressed up as Rita Hayworth and Fred Astaire, dancing all night and plundering the buffet. Hell of a good time. National holidays are holy to vampire Hoseok and basically equal date night. Given his high sex drive, there can’t be enough special occasions either way. To ride his thighs, his face, mark each other down forever until the pants are a little too tight at the damn front. The guy gets shaky knees at the smallest sight of a delicious pulsing vein no matter his century-long chance to accustom himself with human necks, so you agreed to go by a schedule — #SuckingSaturdays only — and you wear thick scarves. Which fits the moody UK weather anyways. The Scots really dig Hoseok in case you’ve been wondering. You can bet Hoseok is the star of Scottish twitter.

⌈ Namjoon ⌋ ➝ Mountain Vampire. 3008 years old. Nepal, Kenya, Peru. You tease him about wearing a long, strangely-always-white cloak and staff because it gives him the semblance of a beardless twen Gandalf. He smokes a pipe, too, but not in your presence anyways. Whatever is in there... seems to elevate him. Literally. Namjoon can levitate. There’s no other way he could use in order to visit you in the first place. A beautiful, abandoned pagoda seated on top of a snowy crest is his makeshift home, inaccessible to everyone but him. Only a secluded place like this is suitable for his ancient kind. To meet you in a warmer and more human-friendly environment, he will elegantly descend from his premises to get together with you in the town located at the base of the mountain. As many nights as possible. Always with a self-made present. Like freshly assembled tea leaves or a little talisman he carved from a piece of wood. Found on one of his long evening walks. He knows what eternity feels like best, that your life is but a glimpse compared to his, so every moment will count. He’ll make it right, no worries. It’s Kim Namjoon, taking care of things. You can always rely on him.

On all levels, he never ceases to surprise. Vampire Joon has surpassed the principles of ingestion, sleep, and a sense of temperature. Hell, even finances. He simply breathes and exists — and most importantly: reads for hours — without any external efforts. Even the Middle Ages didn’t leave a single wrinkle on his face. And he is still the best experienced person to share a bed with. No sexual technique is foreign to him, and post-sex spooning conversations are immensely entertaining. Namjoon has a lot of philosophical thoughts on human-vampire relations and met countless historical figures. He’s also befriended the Yeti at one point, resulting in quite a few hilarious narrations that he will retell on request every time you meet. And he makes them funnier every night. Because Namjoon thinks your laugh is prettier than every sunrise and sunset he’s seen around the world combined, on his every voyage. The most interesting part is: He doesn’t drink any blood even if he has fairly sharp fangs that you often catch yourself staring at for minutes. He still seems more invested in making you cum. With sweet words, brainteasers, and wisdoms spoken into your ears quietly. He’s a walking riddle himself. As expected, who are we kidding. Namjoon, no matter the fleeting centuries he has seen, is a gem and all yours for a lot of nights to come.

◇ castle: Château de la Mothe-Chandeniers (South-East France, 13th century)

2K notes · View notes

blankdblank · 4 years

Text

Anaticula Pt 68

Death Eaters captured and handed over, allies named, it should have gotten better, everyone had hoped it would. Once again the masses were back to their lives while the Dursleys joined the other Muggle Born families choosing to remain on your islands at your trepidation in confirming their safety. They trusted you and knew that it had to be serious for you to be so cautious on the subject even with Riddle Dead. Glimpses of your Dark mark were frequently stolen and each class had asked to get a closer look of the mark now at your control as chosen leader of the Death Eaters. Even those locked up took the notion that you had a plan, it was clear Riddle was weak where you were just getting started so they patiently waited to hear what you had in store for them.

The severity of your dreams only grew worse and in solidarity, even in the start of the season to keep themselves and their loved ones safe remained with the Muggle Borns on your islands until the trio of factions were taken out. Gryffindor vs Slytherin bled into Hogsmeade, a welcome distraction when minor attacks of a team leaving Augrey emblems in their wake seemed to call R out to play again.

Daily again you had to result to more snatchings with your House Elves stirring up another flood of those aiming for your aid. Into your shop they flooded taking the cards offered them they used to zap to your islands in droves. Full families just gone with no doubles this time, taking all they could of their homes and lives to go into hiding against these faceless hoards rising.

A tiny wave of relief came on a Riddle free Halloween. Where others were out getting candy you stood alone in Godric’s Hollow standing at your own grave now bearing two death dates your mother, Lily and James appeared in front of to hear about what was troubling you. Pictures of Em’s first time crawling and her giggles and waves to the camera in your arms, pictures that had been copied to be added to magazines now fully covering her birth and announcement to the world after more students had talked about having seen her.

November reared its head and with it came the response of R in their first batch of public attacks claiming a section of streets as their own ushering up a response, though not from the Augreys, this time from the third using flame emblems calling themselves Scorch. Hooligans it seemed like, common teens out to make a name for themselves in the new post Riddle World apart from the adults they feel had ruined the world for them now exposing themselves.

You knew it was coming and the day before another trip to Hogsmeade halfway through class you shifted to take up Chuck Lupin’s form again when the Ministry came searching for you. From top to bottom they scoured the castle and left agitated to say the least as your face was on wanted posters again being blamed for allowing these attacks and not warning the Ministry, as if you had connections inside.

Though the big explosion in the media came when Grindelwald’s bare cell was noticed. How they had missed it for a week they had no clue but still these gangs were rising up and now a mass murderer was on the loose. For once however they were right, you were the right one to ask for his location, but they had to find you first.

Again in a free period between your final class and supper you aparated in the middle of a deserted island with one house in it. In your approach to the door it eased open and you saw Gellert right where you had left him with his hand outstretched to receive the paper you were holding out for him, “How is the world faring?” He asked unfolding it to skim over the front page.

“Close to burning. It seems the children aren’t as bent on saving the world as they claim.”

“Yes, reckless little ones without a guiding force. Useful, but a task to funnel towards a common goal when blind rage is so simple.” Opening the paper he asked, “This R, seems useless, but old.”

“According to Alastor it’s the only one the Ministry knew about.”

Gellert nodded, “This Augrey, odd, very odd, seems to be merely taunting R into something.”

“Their notes seem personal for strangers.”

“Relatives, or old friends turned enemies then.” His eyes flinched from the page to you, “How is your child?”

“Hmm?” your eyes met his from your stare at the wall of his hut, “Why do you ask?”

“You seem tired, mothers tend to lose sleep over their little ones.”

Shaking your head you said, “Just, dreams.”

“About the three?”

You shook your head, “A friend, this guy she’s supposed to meet and his brother, they were writing limericks.” His brow inched up in a smirk and you said as you brushed your bangs out of your face in the sway of your ponytail on the breeze, “I never said all my dreams were useful.”

“Indeed, intimate though,” his eyes lowered again, “When is she due to meet him?”

“Year, maybe?” Making his eyes flinch up, “They have a different time table it seems.”

“Hmm, very interesting.” With a nod of his head he welcomed you inside at the whistle of his kettle where he poured you both some tea, “In truth most of my dreams were implanted by a woman I once knew, Queenie, Legilimens, quite useful. Gave me a greater goal to wait for.”

“Queenie, I know that name.”

Lowering his cup from a sip he said, “Mmm, yes, you would. Newt Scamander’s sister in law.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know where she is, would you?”

“Last I heard she and her son, Jacob were living in a cottage in the mountains in Switzerland. Exactly where I would head to begin.”

“She’s kept in touch with your old contacts?”

“Yes.”

“You feel ready then?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” His glass rising revealing the marks of his Unbreakable Vow that he would serve you he had suggested when you had freed him. “My followers and their children will flock at my name under the banner of our Queen to rid the world of these imbeciles.”

“Do you know which cottage specifically?” You asked then took a sip of your own in his sharing it.

Black cloths flooded the streets, city by city, country by country and those old enough to know what it meant stood still staring as it passed. At once the eternally loyal flocked to the house he had chosen and watching the daily headlines you joined the world in watching the signs of his numbers rising. Where the others struck publicly he was silent and out of sight merely gaining numbers and spreading the word of your plans.

By Christmas in the hidden island holding your relatives from Paris you celebrated with Fleur in one party then returned for another with the Weasleys and your father’s side.

It was clear that the world was changing, even between secret filming bouts for a dance themed film you were the lead in you could see the fear building and uncertainty of who to trust. The simple plot of a young male dancer who is enamored with a long dead famous dancer and immerses himself in her life story mingling memories of her performances and snippets known publicly of her private life he scavenges for memories from those who knew her, simple enough yes, obsession for an innocent influential figure.

Though your face being plastered around the world in its explosive release was your biggest to date as some thought it gave some sign that you were still there, still watching after them after months without word or sight of you.

New Years soon bled into March and behind your shielded form beside Gellert in his you entered a posh Muggle hotel with heels clicking across the polished floor while the Muggles’ faces dropped and the duo inside at a table by the bar watched you approach through the parting, slowing crowds. The room dimmed as black cloths coated the city block flooding the street with apparating followers and in their retraction again you both filled the seats across from Dolph and an emu faced brunette who had been talking to another duo on the stools behind them.

With a smirk in the flicker of your eyes to purple Dolph greeted you, “Petal.”

Smirking back you said, “You have three minutes to tell me everything you know about R’s plans.”

In a raspy laugh he raised his glass in a mock toast to you, “Funny,” downing his drink he asked, “And just why would I do that?”

From under your loose curls one of your snakes slithered in your mental call to it through a tiny portal you had sent dropping his smirk, “Because that’s when you’ll start choking on your own tongues,” down your body and to your raised hand it coiled and greeted you fondly as you did the same in Parseltongue.

In a glance from his glass to the snake flicking its tongue out at him he shifted in his seat clearing his throat as the others did then lifted the pen on top of the pad you had slid over to him to start scribbling down all he could think of while Gellert stroked a finger along the side of the snake grinning at him contently. On your feet again you smirked at Dolph again leaving a small jar with three orange tablets inside collecting the pad and pen while strolling off saying, “Chew before swallowing.”

The heavily coughing trio scrambled to the jar and divided up the tablets, in your silence the snake took your portal back to its perch again and in the streets you strolled to the waiting port key at the end of the block while Gellert said, “If I am not mistaken, that was not a venomous snake.”

Smirking ahead you shook your head subtly, “No it was not.”

“And the tablets?”

“Vitamin c.” Lowly he chuckled and your arm looped around his in saying, “Snakes are quite useful symbols, just the sight of them insights fear, much like spiders.”

In a low hum he leaned more against your side patting your hand resting on his arm, “I am utterly in awe of you. What I could have achieved with your guidance in my first rise, the world we could have made.” His grin deepened as you met his gaze then joined him in stepping into the wooden crate that sent you off back to the Swiss Alps to the large hide out.

April first was as explosive as ever with those following Grindlewald showering the streets with W shaped confetti, though without taking the credit for it and triggering a day of pranks scorch let loose freeing Gellert to use in taking out a couple divisions of R in their decided moves and plans you had learned of.

Though for you it was merely a month of prepping for another birth, in your nights rocking Em on the tail end of her teething phase in your sleepless rounds of pacing through the house you could hear Tonks nearing her own birth. Her parents Andromeda and Edward both kept close and barely slept themselves often joining you in pacing through the night until on the 8th you all stood wait with Barty holding Em in your aid in keeping Tonks upright on her knees until her crying squirming blob of a baby came out.

With eyes closed for a moment you heard him being cut free by Remus off his chord and taken to be washed avoiding your own near pass out rush you felt seeing Em all coated in slime in her first moments.

Once bathed however while Tonks took her potions and bathed you were named Godmother and allowed to hold him first. Smiling and waving at the boy tucked in your arm who cooed and squealed up at you and the others you introduced him to, though when she returned Tonks insisted Remus have the first chance to hold him, a chance that left him a blubbering mess with the guys helping him to the foot of the bed stroking his back.

Edward ‘Teddy’ Remus Lupin was fully recorded into the family ledgers and showed off to his older cousins waking from their sleep, including his chosen Godfather, Harry. Fully folded into the family he settled into his own nursery, one that would be joined by another as nearly shouted over breakfast Fleur gave the news she was expecting and joining the new mothering brood.

The news came with the freedom of the seventh years finalizing the NEWTS exams freeing them into the world. Quidditch again had been canceled and in their final ride home from Hogsmeade Station they had decided to aid in the downfall of the trio destroying the world. Into groups they divided themselves and still wound up over not being the one to fulfill the prophecy of ending Riddle Harry jumped right into a bed of lava by accepting Romilda’s offer of joining her group. The pair would pretend to be a couple, both using enchanted items to disguise themselves to others leaving Ginny to a group including Dean and Seamus.

While tensions flew and the relationship between teens started to strain you felt yours let loose completely. It had been two months without wearing the ring Barty had insisted you keep as those trips to Hogsmeade brought another woman into his daily life, a young Veela who had been sent by her parents in hopes of being safe out of Romania while panic flew wondering what Grindlewald was up to slithering around in the shadows.

He fell hard and fast, though she understood as he made it clear he loved you and you had a child together so you would have to get along ‘masterfully’ as he had put it. In your knowledge of her language the friendship grew and you couldn’t help but step aside even through the sting of having missed out on being the true love of the utterly wonderful man you shared a child with.

Hundreds of criminals were freed from Azkaban and the Aurors tried to scoop them up and in a public plea Rufus and the Ministry begged for you and your Death Eaters to help with the looming war as the lower factions were back and forth taking innocents out in their every move.

September again brought the train again, and along with the usual first years children of every age were being pushed onto the train and into your shop with notes and hidden bags and boxes holding all their possessions parents were entrusting you and the twins with their children. Day by day the numbers grew and things were growing tense as their parents took up sides to fix what was happening.

Unable to send them home the House elves spare from your islands along with more K had hired helped to handle them in the newly made Nursery near the Hospital Wing while the older students were being trained by a series of Muggle born parents from your islands who were teachers to Muggles. Classes were made up along with dorms and the security of the school was tripled with numbers of your wards growing by the day increasing panic as the sound of children had completely left the Wizarding Europe like out of some horror novel.

October came however with screams as Ginny had gone to surprise Harry over the weekend and came crashing back to school straight to your arms weeping after finding him in bed with Romilda. Hours she wept and screamed and broke the items you had summoned for that task

“He was just laying there, naked with her, naked on top of him. Passed out from an all nighter looked like!” Her gaze shifted from you and Tonks seeing the emotions flooding through your eyes and expressions along with Remus beside you, though when her eyes turned to Sirius she glared at him tearfully asking, “Why are you looking like that?! Like it’s just-,”

Shaking his head Sirius sighed lowering his joined hands from in front of his face causing his hunched position, then he said, “I am not condoning or approving it. Where it infuriates me to no end that Harry would ever cheat on you, I have no room to judge.”

Shaking her head she wiped her cheek angrily saying, “What does that even mean?”

Sirius, “When I was his age, even a few years younger I dated my way through most of my class. Until I finally saw and realized what I was doing and why-,”

Ginny, “Why would you do that?!”

Sirius sighed, “Because I came from a despicable family, and I hated myself and my life, it felt good so I tried to sleep with as many females as I could until I realized that I was displacing my aggression and insecurities and pain at being rightfully turned down by Jewels for so long.” Her head tilted in another furrow of her brows, “I know to you it sounds ridiculous, and it was, it was terrible and I was terrible but I changed. And this has nothing to do with Harry, you have every right to hate him, to never want to see him again or hurl pianos at him, what have you. That was my reasoning. It could have been a drunken thing, it could have been just the fact that two adults alone sought a deeper connection to distract from what’s going on, either way, you are angry and hurt and you have every right to be. I am, merely listening and waiting for a way I can help.”

Ginny, “Help? How could anyone help in this?!”

Sirius, “Well, for one, did he see you?”

“He was asleep.”

Sirius nodded, “Alright, did you leave a note or hex hovering above them for when they do wake up?”

She shook her head curiously answering, “No?”

“Now, do you want him to know that you know what he did?”

Ginny, “Yes!” Shifting in her seat her hands clenched around her knees after another wipe of her cheek, “Why wouldn’t I?!”

Sirius shrugged and shook his head, “Some women just choose denial. Now, the real question is, how do you want him to find out that you know.”

Ginny, “How is this helping?”

Remus pointed at him as you accepted Teddy in Tonk’s hurry off to get the tea kettle before it began to whistle and wake him, “No, this is actually his area of expertise.”

Sirius nodded and said, “I’ve been caught and outed so many times really I would be the best to come to for this. So there’s for shock value, ways to humiliate him, hurt him, both physically ad emotionally, there is also the blasé, ‘I know’ approach, just clean cut ‘we’re through.’ So it’s just a matter of how you want to handle it.”

Tears poured down her cheeks in the quiver of her lip, “I want to know why? Why I wasn’t en-,”

Sirius pointed at her saying, “This has nothing to do with your worth! You are marvelous. Trust me, he is an idiot, and he will never forgive himself for hurting you like this. Even if it was a drunken mistake or completely deliberate in a way to move on to someone else, this has everything to do with how stupid he is and nothing to do with you being enough or being the spectacular young woman you are. He screwed up, big time, and cheating is always, always selfish, there is no thought on how the other person feels or will take the act, unless it is the rare cases to make someone jealous or prove that you aren’t tied down, and trust me if that’s the case I will be joining the queue to give him a swift kick.”

Turning her head to you she asked, “How am I supposed to handle this when they’re supposed to be other people? When I can’t tell everyone who he is and what he did without putting him in danger?”

Sirius’ lips pursed, “Well then, we can set up a sort of trap to trap you both, or three if you want to hash it out with Romilda when you do confront them.”

It was nasty and hours of tears from the trio in sharing the details on the drunken hook up and Ginny reluctantly let her anger go knowing now that it was a so called ‘release of tension’ from the situation of not being able to be themselves or with the people they loved. It meant nothing to the both of them and respectfully they accepted Ginny needed time and space to get through this. So back to school she went and they were back to undercover work in the Augrey faction, all hoping that there could be a quick end to this new war.

…

Buckingham Palace in November, big, bright, beautiful, everything you had hoped it would be. A nice easy stroll in and you had hoped with Rufus’ help that you could talk some sense into the Queen of England, but a sudden shin kick and your hand swayed and asking permission was a thing of the past. Doubles were made and onto one of your islands the Royal family was rounded up and sent on a lovely ‘vacation’ in the growing threat that country leaders were next. The President of France was much more understanding as well as leaders from various countries you and the Order had contacted. Even to Muggles your name apparently was recognizable at least in them seeing posters or papers with your face and name on them.

Brazil had already been toppled with major cities falling left and right. Half of London was next to go with major bridges collapsing, including the one leading up to Westminster, half of which fell into the river as the ground gave way. Random flicks of wands were issued and Muggles were shrunken and aparated from danger, not by Aurors but passing random Wizards and Witches hoping to diminish casualties of innocents. All statutes of secrecy were in tatters and off to your islands the Order took the confused Muggles who all had their lives gathered and brought to their new homes their memories had been warped to accept and not grow violent with one another. Block by block you simply began evacuating them almost by force when the number of those that would be caught in the crossfire kept climbing.

Groggily you strolled into Ginny’s room passing her a potion to aid with her continued bouts of sickness. It was clear what conclusion she had jumped to after a night with Harry in the last time he came home to visit coming now to this seemingly unexplained trouble to her morning routine. But none of that mattered as on top of her daunting possible diagnosis she did not want to face came another, Romilda Vane had asked for a pregnancy crystal bracelet and it had turned blue. At once she was packed up and sent to an island for her safety and through her hours of tear filled talks with Sirius a deal was struck, Harry didn’t know yet and clearly she did not feel ready to have a baby or want to ruin what Ginny and Harry had again. It was not going to be done away with, she just did not want to mother it, so Sirius would, if Harry would decide that he was not ready either. At least that was the plan.

New Years, a time of new beginnings, new promises, a finish line that loops around to the starting line again. A full week you had gone sleeplessly handling the trade off of more children to your care as all the spies you had gained came to one conclusion, this was it, New Years was when the battle field would be set and those left standing would take it all. It was clear by the way the Minister kept looking at you as well as the Aurors and parents readying to fight.

On the edge of tears you stood listening to Albus planning away the escape plan. Your name yet to be spoken in his naming which lands to gather and which people to snatch up. A new island had been formed in the North Pole, a safe place to burrow and wait it out and still you stood hoping to hear your name, Severus, Barty, even your father and Uncle were assigned. Until the very end came and Albus said in a flash of a glance your way, “Jaqi will hold the barrier behind us and ripple distraction so we might make our escape.”

The sentence as soon as he said it he knew he was due for a slap in the silence of the room, again you were assumed to die, he wanted you to stand and die while they got to flee and with a curt nod you turned on your heel saying softly, “I’ll need something first.”

Lowly he replied, “Of course.” Narrowing his gaze on your back as your hair turned to a telling Midnight blue that you were readying to fight. The list of people to fetch had shrunk and still you had to plan their escapes as well so truly these selfish thoughts shouldn’t have been all your mind kept circling on. Surely you could escape and find your way to the new island and yet you still couldn’t get over this. Again Dumbledore had decided your fate so plainly and like your move to hide him as a dog you had to show him what cards you were holding when he played the Death Eater Queen card.

Through your doorway you gave the doorway across it in the hall you entered a knock and opened it at the call of Gellert inside. Turned around with an easy grin on his face he looked you over asking, “Is it time?”

“Yes, Albus has assigned our escape points.”

With a tilt of his brow his chin shifted, “Ah,” strolling around the table he raised the wand from the desk he was behind and he asked, “I take it he assigned you to stay and face the monsters?” At the tears in his eyes he clicked his tongue and brushed your bangs behind your ear stroking his curled fingers under the line of your jaw, “You are no monster. Come, we will show them who will be watching your back.”

Turning around your fingers rose to fix the rolled up sleeves on your open flannel over your tank top and jeans and his hand settled on your upper back. A subtle finger wave and his halls emptied into the empty hotel your headquarters for escape had been set up. Again the door opened and you saw Albus’ face drop in seeing the man at your side causing those around him to look him and his followers over in shock.

Molly off to the side said with a comforting nod, “I’ll be checking on Fleur and waiting for word on our arrival.” In passing you she gave you a quick hug whispering, “I knew you could do it, Love.”

With a grin you watched as Albus asked, “Jaqi, what have you done?”

Gellert smirked at him, “Our Queen has found herself a Monster to cover your escape.” In his turn to you his hand rose to fix your collar drawing your eye, “Run, fortify. Monsters only, leave these fools to me.” Winking at you hinting that you aren’t the monster you think you are, “Show these Wizards how fiercely Angels can fly.”

Alarms and portkeys went off all at once and in your stride off to join the twins with your broom appearing in your hand after a quick flick of your wrist Harry found your side asking, “Where’s Gin?”

“We’re off to get her.”

Harry shook his head, “No, let me. Won’t take long.”

“You don’t even know where she is!” You shouted in his rush for the portkey to her making Tonks give you a nod in her rush after him latching onto his jacket to go with him. All at once you all zapped and soared off in the looming wave of forces coming your way.

Between plumes of black cloth Grindelwald’s forces grew and alone in the room together Gellert strolled past Albus as he asked, “Your plan was to remain behind? I do not believe that.”

Gellert, “Believe what you wish,” his eyes locked on Albus’ and he said, “Try what you will, live a thousand lifetimes, but you will never deserve her trust. Do not be a fool, never fail her again. She is living starlight.” Continuing on through the door he joined the others in the street and at his presence countless of those on the opposing forces, in Albus’ flight away to the meeting point to gather at the secondary portkey for all those fleeing, turned to join Grindelwald. Even without the Elder Wand a single flick of his wand and those a third of his age could not match his skill of speed in deterring hundreds.

Ripples of the war covered the globe and under the banner of victory Gellert hummed in his stroll through his safe house accepting the silver haired girl with doe brown eyes from Queenie with an excited gasp at her clapping giggle in greeting him. In his arm she was settled and to his rocking chair he strode humming lowly to her, “Delphini, My Dear, I have a grand story for you tonight.” In sitting his legs crossed and he stole a grin at Queenie in her move to go fetch the laundry to get her blankie she had washed earlier before she was off to bed. Grinning at the girl in his arms he said, “It is the story of a mighty Queen, born of starlight, though it all starts with a little girl, just like you.”

Continued in Book 2 Revelio

#Fallen to Middle Earth #The End of it All #Wizarding War III

8 notes · View notes

its0katka · 5 years

Text

A Personal History of Mountains

I’m five years old, seven years old, thirteen years old, and I drive through mountains to get to my cousin’s house an hour away in Duchess County. I know they aren’t really mountains though, because they aren’t tall enough, or craggy enough. They don’t look like the mountains I see in books and on TV.

I’m used to tall things because of living in New York but the skyscrapers are oftentimes too tall and give a warped perspective on what tall actually is. Nature is different, though. Nature is real.

They look pretty in the fall when the leaves change colors, but when it’s summer they just look like oversized bushes, in the winter they are a dead bark brown. They aren’t rolling, it’s usually one large dome and then normal-sized foliage otherwise. Sometimes they look pretty when they are covered in snow.

I try not to think about mountains because one time I tried to hike Bear Mountain and I hated it.

I’m 20 years old and I’m flying to Ghana. We transfer planes in Germany and as we fly south, we cross the alps. I don’t know which alps, but we’re so high up above them that all we see is snow-capped tops and sharp peaks clearing the sky. I remember how excited I was to see them, because they looked like real mountains, and I was so close to them.

In Ghana I went on another hike to Mount Afadjato. I thought it’d be fine because I’d done a hike to Arthur’s Seat in Edinburgh the summer before, and that was alright, it was the same amount of time (two hours up, an hour down) and I figured I was spry enough to do it.

I wasn’t. I fell behind the group quite far, especially when trying to walk down the mountain. I was suffering badly with the elevation. I was wearing Crocs.

Arthur’s Seat was 822 ft tall. It had stairs along the way, and safety ropes. Mount Afadjato 2,904 ft tall. It had nothing but steep climbs, slippery rocks, and a worn train. I lost my footing at one point and slid down the mountain, I thought I was going to die. The group went to a cave the next day and I opted to stay home and try to watch the Ghanaian version of American Idol on the TV we had that never really worked.

I’m 22 and living in Žilina, Slovakia. I was provided with a three bedroom flat all to myself, for the modest price of $400 Euros a month. My Independent Study stipend pretty much covers the rent, I have to use my personal funds to buy food but it’s not too bad because I don’t have a fridge, so I basically have to eat vegetarian, eat out, or not eat at all.

From my balcony (yes, I have a balcony, yes, it’s where I keep my milk, cheese and yogurt to stay cold in the frigid November temperatures), I can see the Malá Fatras, a Slovak mountain range that’s popular with skiers. I love standing out on the freezing balcony looking at it because these are the tallest mountains I’ve ever seen, and the closest I’ll ever get. It makes me feel normal, like the world is not so vast, like there are borders and boundaries and it’s somehow cozy, in a weird way.

One weekend, all employees of Stanica are gone on holiday; Dusan goes on a trip to Bratislava with his girlfriend, Audrey and Helen go to Budapest. I am on my own except for Ints, who offers to hang out with me while everyone is gone, who makes sure to take me out to bars and have a good time, who drags me out to a mountain nearby to go see some castle ruins, except that I’m hungover as hell and the walk up is steep as hell and we stop for a cigarette break halfway through and I admit that I’m dying and I’m sore and dehydrated and can’t go on, can we please go home?

We stop at a bar on the way home and have warm beer. We go out later that night and I scream at him drunk in the snow because I want to have sex with him but he keeps saying he has a girlfriend but no one has ever met her, ever, not even his closest friend Aldrick and everyone keeps saying to me, “Wow are you Ints’s girlfriend?” and it killed me every time.

Years later I would understand that he was doing the right thing, he liked me but he was doing the right thing and knew it would be bad if we got involved.

I’m 28 and on my honeymoon and we make a stop in Lake Como. I’m still not feeling 100% health-wise, and I welcome the chance to relax along the lake. Our Airbnb is a time capsule, it’s a separate room and bathroom attached to the home of a spry Englishwoman who married an Italian man and basically gets to see out her days in their Sala Comacina flat, with paramount views of Lake Como and a water taxi stop down the road.

It’s more beautiful than anywhere I’ve ever been. The air is clear and crisp and warm, the Italian alps are visible in the far distance, snow capped and a stark comparison to the emerald green, sloping hills along the lake. When the sun sets, it turns them brilliant neon colors of pink, orange and purple.

We dine on prosciutto pizza and grilled fish at a place where the tables and chairs are made of plastic, and the local teenagers drop by for cokes. I take a picture and post it. Someone asks, “Is this a painting?” No, it’s reality.

I’m 30, and we’re driving through Switzerland, exhausted and half sick but determine to visit Berggasthaus Aescher, the famous building built into the side of a mountain, which serves food if you’re lucky enough to get there. I’ve done all the research, including figuring out how to get there by car, through winding roads and up steep elevations and narrow streets where the Swiss sports cars zip around like it’s no big deal except if you aren’t careful enough you may well drive off a cliff because there are zero barriers, dude.

We see old people, old people, riding bikes up the hills and I just feel really bad about myself, in comparison.

We find pockets of green space, sprawling hills with farms and cows, so many cows, cows everywhere and adorable cottages and I just keep wondering, “Oh my god what does one do here to occupy their time, especially with all of these insane hills and narrow roads to climb?”

Finally we reach Ebenalp and the cable car that will take us to the top of the mountain. All the way there we’ve been surrounded by tall crags and ranges of snow-peaked geo wonders. I can’t stop taking photos of them because this truly is the closest I’ve ever been to a real mountain. It’s 5,380 ft high and I wonder how on earth it’s possible for this cable car to bring us up so steeply and yet be so smooth and yet never just one day fall apart and crash.

We get to the top and realize we are sorely underdressed; I, in a thin sweater and a designer purse, Handsome Man in a long sleeve shirt and dress boots. Everyone else around us is wearing legit hiking gear — industrial boots, heavy coats, snow pants, bandanas. All of the things I read about Berggasthaus Aescher said it was an 15 minute hike to the guesthouse. I am winded in the first five minutes and I am walking down, not up.

At Berggasthaus Aescher, we realize it’s too late to buy food because the last cablecar leaves at 5:30pm, and if we miss it, we must hike all the way down, and who knows how long that’d take and what condition we’d be in by the end. We take some marvelous photos and retreat back where the steep climb has me stopping several points through to catch my breath. I see old women and little kids hiking and wonder what the hell is wrong with me.

I really liked Switzerland when we were there, it was this crazy place where everything was so expensive and no one looked like each other and the language, what even was it, and we paid $40 for pad thai at a takeout place, and Handsome Man got food poisoning because he didn’t cook his fondue meats well enough.

But what I can’t stop thinking about are those mountains, and valleys, where it’s just you and the land and the animals and the nature, and it’s so beyond beautiful and peaceful and you wonder how anything could ever be wrong there, and it’s not wrong there, it’s perfection.

#mountains #travel #Travel Photography #nature #travel blog #ghana #switzerland #italy #lake como #slovakia #swiss alps

4 notes · View notes

paulpingminho · 3 months

Text

#bangers and mash #English food #onion ring #micro greens #onion gravy #Ye Olde Swiss Cottage #London #England

0 notes

thesausagequest · 5 years

Text

Swiss Sausage

I have recently returned to the city of London for a spell where, as I’m currently enjoying a period of unemployment on a freelance basis, I have weighed up my options and moved into a fictional neighbourhood of which no one has ever heard and though even I am no longer sure it’s my hand in front of my face as I sit here or some bus conductor from Narnia, I have indeed very cleverly used wordplay to tie the name of the area into the title of this white paper.

That is correct, I have moved to Combledon.

That was a lie I duped you, Combledon really doesn’t exist, I have moved to Swiss Cottage, but you believed me for a second and questioned your knowledge I am like the Riddler but wearing more garments.

Swiss Cottage is a part of London that compels residents to defend it by mentioning the zone it’s in (2), the borough it’s in (Camden) and the state it’s in (not...terrific). If you haven’t travelled through Swiss Cottage and are wondering how it got its name, pop on down from Combledon and feast thine eyes on the actual, genuine reason this area is so called.

There. Is. A. Swiss. Cottage. And. They. Named. An. Area. After. It.

That’s real, that’s not a movie set, though it does look like Odeon is about to beat it up. As it’s been a while since I’ve cruised through the world of meatpipes - ignore that wording - I felt that I’d use some time to visit this biscuit tin to see what sausages they’re slinging - again, move past it as we have done so deftly for so many years.

Ye Olde Swiss Cottage - I’m not fucking making this up - sits between eight actual lanes of traffic, the constant hum of which I’m 90% sure has stunted my reading age, possibly even reducing it. The website promised me a Jumbo Butcher’s Hot Dog, and though I think fat-shaming a butcher is unkind, this was what I settled on on my walk down.

Except they don’t do that any more so I had this.

And somehow sat at a table that was so small my knees were higher than my food.

When Wilfred Owen wrote in Dulce et Decorum Est:

Bent double, like beggars under old sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,

I couldn’t really picture the image. Now, however, having eaten with my body bent at the waist into an acute angle, I really think I appreciate the experience he’s describing. It’s possible he doesn’t understand my plight, quite honestly.

Anyway, that’s not the fantastical chalet’s fault. I have eyes, I’ve seen them, I chose the wrong table and just stuck to my guns. The meal.

The sausages were dense and a little bland, like myself, so I appreciated that. The mashed potato was very, very bad but you’ll have to refer to my other blog for that review. The conflict here came from the fact that, while I wish to add length to my increasingly-dismal total, I actually don’t necessarily want to eat three piping hot, massive porkpoles to myself all at once in the afternoon. They were so hot I almost wept, which was apt because once I’d finished eating, so did my food:

What bleakness is happening in that kitchen that it makes the food cry? What horrors have you seen, my little orange companion? Is there someone I can call?

The rest of the meal went off without a Hitch, because I don’t like that film and besides, there are no TVs in the doily shack. While I wouldn’t necessarily recommend that specific dish to anyone except a man with a vendetta who wishes to rid the earth of cylindrical food as soon as possible, the ski hole isn’t a bad local pub, the staff are nice, and I’ve heard that the cool kids get tinnitus now anyway.

Lol jk I can’t hear anything any more.

If you’re ever in the area - stop laughing, that is unkind - be sure to shine a sausage in the sky and I will adjoin you and step through the mist - it’s car exhaust - into the mythical treehouse that sits amid the junction of two of the main arterial roads in and out of London. We will laugh up until the black lung takes us.

CURRENT LENGTH - THIS WAS A BIG STEP UP AND THE YOUNGISH CONTENDER DEALT WITH IT BY GETTING A RUNNY NOSE BECAUSE THEY KEPT THEIR HEAT SO BADLY SO LET’S SAY 576CM

SAUSAGE RATING - THEY WERE INCREDIBLY GOOD VALUE AT £7.95 JUST A LITTLE TOO MUCH FOOD SO I’LL SAY 6/10 BUT AT LEAST I WON’T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT EATING UNTIL AFTER LENT

1 note · View note

gipsytrips · 5 years

Photo

Caribbean mountains. Valle Nuevo, La Vega province, Dominican Republic. 12-2018.

We did not feel like staying on the beach in Cabarete all the time, so we packed our backpacks, put little Thaissia in a carrier and headed over to the mountains. It appears that Dominican Republic has mountains and they are actually the highest ones in the Caribbean (Pico Duarte 3098 m). We left the house in the morning, had a coffee and decided to go to La Vega province taking the other road (not the fast one). We jumped into the first gua gua bus that passed by and got off in Sabaneta de Yasica. There we decided to try hitchhiking further as traveling by another gua gua on a mountain road did not seem like a good idea (plus this bus was empty and just starting to fill up with people, which meant that we could wait very long for it to depart). We got lucky right away: got picked up by a young Dominican couple with a newborn baby, who was traveling in her car seat in the back all by herself. As the mother was on the front seat, we had some space in the back right next to the little one. This couple, I guess, just wanted to help us as they saw smiley baby hanging in the carrier on her dad. We were traveling in comfort; with AC full on enjoying beautiful winding road without any traffic pretty much. Dominican couple dropped us off somewhere after La Vega town and there we jumped into a gua gua bus over to Jarabacoa town (got there rather fast). Jarabacoa is not a small cute town, but a busy place. Probably if we would have read a bit about the place before going there, we would know exactly where there were some nice places to stay in the mountains around Jarabacoa to spend a night at. But we didn’t know where we were going at all, so we had a quick look at the town, did not like it at first sight and took off to the next valley and a smaller town called Constanza. There we also hitchhiked as once again we picked a mountain road with almost no traffic but great views, which meant no gua gua buses on it. This time we got a ride from local farmers in their old beaten up pick up truck (and it was not for free). We got to Constanza in the late afternoon, and as it gets dark in DR pretty early (6 pm), we had to spend that night in town in some shabby hotel, which I’d rather forget and not describe here. Constanza is in the valley where most of Dominican fruit and veggies grow, because it’s always cool there (during the day not warmer than +23C). There we even tried local strawberries. But the town itself, like all Dominican towns, isn’t good looking and doesn’t make you want to stay there. We did not give up and decided to go higher in the mountains no matter how, get away from the town. Luckily some days earlier I had read a couple lines about Constanza and its vicinity and remembered that not far from the town there is Valle Nuevo National Park where you can rent a cosy cabin in Villa Pajon. I called this hotel (basically just several nice little cottages with fire places inside the national park), and they told us that we would need a 4 by 4 vehicle (taxi) to get over there and that it’s a 40 minute ride from Constanza. In the morning we found the taxi (wasn’t so easy as there are only so many of them and most were busy or away, but we finally got one guy who agreed to take us up). On the way we stopped at supermarket and got some food as Villa Pajon is a self catering place (no restaurant on site). So after crossing the town we headed up the mountain, there is no real road over there, just rocks and dirt (luckily it was dry), so taxi charged us quite a lot for this 40 minutes off road. Inside the park our driver’s gas finished, and we were ready to walk five or so kilometers up over to Villa Pajon. But in the end we got lucky and park rangers, that were passing by in a 4 by 4 pick up truck, took us to our destination (it definitely was luck as there are no cars in the area at all, just by arrangement). There are only two “hotels” inside the park and we were staying in one of them (we were the only guests there). Villa Pajon is a picturesque Swiss style clean and tidy place in the forest on the elevation of 2100 meters above sea level. When we arrived there around lunch time, the temperature was only about 15-17 C. Fresh. Thaissia was playing in the lawn wearing her new hoodie (there was no need for it before), eating strawberries and smiling at local cats and roosters. Later we took a walk in the forest and stumbled into somebody’s helipad, it was kind of hidden in the bush but we spotted it right away. Not far from it there was somebody’s mansion which, as we were told later, had been built there before the area was proclaimed a national park. From the helipad the view over Constanza valley was stunning. Mission was accomplished, beauty and peace found. In the evening the hotel stuff brought us lots of blankets and warned us the night would be “very cold”. They also sold us some wood for the fireplace and some coal for grilling our meat. So everything was perfect. Our cabin was super cosy and nice; dinner with crackling fireplace turned out memorable. It seemed we were not in the Caribbean but somewhere in the Alps. After a previous catastrophic night in Constanza, day and night that we spent in Villa Pajon were extra pleasant. At night temperature got down to +5C (and I didn’t even bring socks with me)! The cabin had no isolation what so ever, gaps were huge everywhere. With fireplace on we got the inside temperature up to +14C and when the fire was out it dropped to only +9C. For Dominican Republic those numbers are super exotic! Under a pile of blankets we slept well, nobody was cold and senora Damaris brought me a pair of socks (this nice lady has been working in Villa Pajon for 18 years).

In order to return to the coast the next morning we had to take the same taxi and then three buses (big and small), we went via Santiago. It was a painfully long trip, took us a whole day. It’s hard to say whether it all was worth it. Yes, it was beautiful up there in the mountains, just as we imagined it, but getting there took too much time and effort. I would not take local transport up to Dominican mountains next time…

Several days after returning to the coast, our dad left for France and two of us, Thaissia and I, moved over to Samana Peninsula to the town called Las Terrenas where we continued our winter escape. Next post will be about that.

#baby travels #Dominican Republic

1 note · View note