#waxing dublin
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Stripping & Waxing Services Dublin | Do it Right Cleaning
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Top-rated Waxing Services near in Dublin: Your Guide to Smooth and Flawless Skin
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Effective Ear Wax Removal and Cleaning Services in Dublin
Excessive ear wax can lead to discomfort, reduced hearing, and even ear infections. Proper ear wax removal and cleaning are essential for maintaining good ear health. In this blog post, we will explore the importance of ear wax removal and cleaning, and where to find reliable services in Dublin. Discover how professional ear wax removal and cleaning can help you maintain optimal ear health and improve your overall well-being.
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Closest to Our Star
Closest to Our Star
‘Alpha Centauri’, Oils and Cold Wax on Canvas.Titled after a star system of 3 stars that make up part of the constellation Centaurus which are the closest star system to the sun.This was an award winning painting I did as part of an online competion during the pandemic with @hamblyandhambly . It began a new direction in my style of painting and palette and some of the work in this exhibition has…
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#abstract art#abstract expression#affordable art#art#art blog#art curator#art dealer#art dublin#art for your home#art gallery#art studios#art vlog#award winning artist#buy original art online#cold wax medium#colour#contemporary art#daily art#derval freeman artist#exhibition#gift ideas#interior decor#interior design#irish art#Irish artist#irishart exhibitions#new collection#oil painting#teal painting#vibrant art
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Microsuction Ear Wax Removal by Professional Audiology Clinic In Dublin
Feeling ear heaviness or ear blockage? It can be due to the excess of ear wax in the ear canal, if it is not treated on time, it can lead to hearing loss. Dr. Deepak Kumar (Audiological Scientist) at 'The Audiology Clinic' offer micro-suction earwax removal services in Dublin, Mallow, Limerick, and Naas. To book an appointment visit:- https://audiologyclinic.ie/microsuction/
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me and mr. plant at the dublin wax museum
all non-wax faces blurred for privacy of course
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Another question was, with Rosey on board was the Captain still prostituting himself? And why was he doing it if he was I thought he didn’t have to?
Aha, thanks for asking as I kinda wove this in but I’ve had a few other asks that show confusion so I really want to clear this up.
Hard no.
In the very first chapter you may recall Rosetta referencing a change in him a year ago, a starting afresh and in the latest chapter Aida referenced it “only taking a year for him to miss it.” Along with a few other hints the point was made he was not currently and hadn’t for a full year at least.
However, neither did he stop as soon as he got back in Memphis after the war which had been his goal. Colonel Parker tidied it up, gave him goals and incentives and promises of an end in sight but as we’ve learned, that was hardly a honest vision. Presley didn’t begin by owning the boat and in order to buy it and Captain it himself he had to earn the money which in many ways was just entertainment and working the gambling tables but was also, bluntly, a less desperate form of prostitution physically as well. It was prostitution all the same and with some severe consequences to his own psyche, mentality and trust.
Last chapter it was mentioned he worried awhile back that a female client had become pregnant as he was denied the chance to take the usual precautions. The horror of a child of his being raised by such deplorables as that particular client drove him to manslaughter, a full break from giving himself monetarily (we meet him in this new era) and certainly informs his fear of full intimacy with Rosey. We do see him “slipping” into a sort of persona he used back when he was “working” -particularly with Binder, but it’s also mentioned he finds it alarming how easy it is to slip back into a role he both loathes and has turned his back on for good. It is a power play, though, and a defense mechanism fully ingrained at this point.
Historical side note (TW this may be disturbing due to dehumanizing factors) -fads of sexual mania come and go, it’s bdsm one decade and wax the next, lol, but one such fixation during the late 1800’s was consensual and witnessed cuckolding. To each their own but these folks liked to make it nice and weird by paying a man of “lower birth” to “defile” the gentrified lady while her husband got off on it (or joined in the back door of the man) and the more emphasis on the man being lowborn, beastly and uncouth the hotter. Tbh, some of the accounts and writings on it have a Darwinian undertone that suggest they really thought of it akin to bestiality. Can you imagine the awful mind fuck of that? For CP? Like yes he’s out of the cruel back alleys but now he’s an active instrument in besmirching a marriage (a institution he already had idealistic respect for) and while doing so the entire erotic emphasis is on him being lesser somehow than the people paying. It’s objectification to the max and it’s not something you just rewire in your brain the moment you stop doing it. Anyways thanks for listening to the ramble. One book that informed me in this regard is this memoir of male prostitute John Saul from Dublin Ireland in the 1800’s: The Sins of the Cities of the Plain; or, The Recollections of a Mary-Ann, with Short Essays on Sodomy and Tribadism.
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In her answer to the "get to know your moots better" tag game, @justaboot mentioned she'd love to go backpacking in Ireland.
As someone who lives here, I am making this post for anyone who wants to visit Ireland at any point, and I figure now's as good a time as any.
Weather
It rains like 24/7 here so bring a fucking rain coat. And an umbrella. I'm so serious. There will be mornings where you'll leave your hotel/tent/wherever you're staying and you'll think "It doesn't look like it's going to rain" NO. BRING THE COAT. The sky is lying to you. Just because it doesn't look like it'll rain does NOT mean it's not gonna rain!!
The west and north tend to get worse weather, but rain happens everywhere here.
History
Not gonna get into it here because that'd be wayyyy too long of a post, but a lot of our tourist attractions rely on people having at least some kind of knowledge of Irish history and/or folklore. It's interesting, if a bit depressing at times, but I'm pretty sure that goes for all countries.
Long story short we were under British control for a really really really REALLY long-ass time, and we fought like hell to get our independence. Oh - speaking of which, if you're anywhere near the border between the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland, it's a good idea to avoid wearing orange ESPECIALLY in or around July. This is because orange is seen as a symbol of Unionist beliefs (ie, the belief that Ireland should be part of the UK) and it's a REALLY touchy subject for a lot of people. Do your research. Trust me on that.
Language
First off, most people speak English here (unless you're in a Gaeltacht region, where people mainly speak Irish. These are located in Cork, Donegal, Galway, Kerry, Meath, Mayo and Waterford, and they can be a great cultural experience but it's not for the faint of heart.) However, there are like a zillion different regional accents so good fucking luck trying to understand people 😂😂
The way Irish people talk has some nice quirks, some of which I'll share here.
Craic (pronounced "crack") No, it's not drugs. The word craic generally means a good time or other happenings. There are three main ways the word is used.
"What's the craic?" = What's up?/Any news?
To have the craic = To have fun, especially at a party
"No craic" = Boring, nothing happening at all.
If someone invites you for a "cuppa" or better yet, a "cupán tae" (pronounced "cup awn tay") they want you to come in and have a cup of tea with them. This is usually accompanied by a LOT of small talk, which Irish people are experts at.
Other expressions vary WILDLY by county and sometimes even by region, so I'm afraid I'm not much help to you here.
Things To Do Here
First off, our restaurants are quite overpriced, as are our hotels. However, our healthcare is fairly cheap.
We have SO MUCH NATURAL SCENERY. If the weather allows, definitely go out and explore it! Just watch out if you're hiking, as the rain makes a lot of places muddy and slippy, so maybe bring the good hiking boots. We also don't have a lot of animals that can kill you, which is great!
As I mentioned, we have a lot of places to go that are based in our history, and they can be great places to learn about Ireland's past. But if you're not interested in history (which is fine) there are plenty of other options. We have a wax museum in Dublin, a theme park called Emerald Park (formerly Tayto Park, after an Irish potato chip brand) and a LOT of great theatres, pubs and clubs. Oh yes, if there's one thing we do well here, it's our night life!
We even have a coastal trail called the Wild Atlantic Way, which stretches all the way up our western coastline, from Cork to Donegal.
And lastly, if you're in the area, there is this fucking LEGENDARY ice cream parlour in Sligo called Mammy Johnstons. It's RIGHT next to the beach, and (in my limited experience) it's the BEST ice cream place in the country.
So yeah! Enjoy your trip!
🇮🇪🇮🇪🇮🇪
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fun idol facts part #100:
wow, what a milestone! to celebrate, marie cuttlefish from the squid sisters is hosting a lesbian orgy in the national wax museum in dublin!
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A very long sunny day.(draft)EP4
Former episode:
somewhere in New York, United States.
An Irishman who was “Captain Magenta” till yesterday, was operating some device.
He wore hoody, pants and sneakersーall of them are blackー and he didn't use hair wax like usual.
Nobody will notice he is Patrick.
“I didn’t wanna never come back here.” He thought.
This area is near to where Donaghue family lived. it was a rough place.
“But I cannot escape from that problem.”
His hands typed something quickly and hit the submit button.
ーーーーーーーーーー
The Control room, Cloudbase.
Colonel White, Captains, angels and lieutenant Green watching the monitor.
Some engineers of Dublin branch are also sitting beyond monitor.
There are incomprehensible sentence in Spanish and Gaeilge:
“casa Gris Ghrian Nina seisear faoi thalamh”
(House grey Sun girl six underground )
following that sentence, a line of numbers which seems like street numbers.
And the next sentence is understandable English sentence.
“I asked ex-commander Fraser about helping the Donaghues.”
Captain Ochre looked taken aback, and shocked.
Patrick once asked him to do that because his current job is very dangerous and his parents are old.
Richard thought that he didn't make a promise just for this.
“I couldn’t escape my darkest past. Spectrum must not involved this incident.”
Finally, there are a lot of point and lines.
“It is the Morse code, isn it?”
Captain Gray said silently.
“OK. Let’s check the message”
The converted message was like that:
“I couldn’t tell you anything, because my communication system may have been intercepted. I couldn’t find the cause.
I gonna find Costello. Let the New York Police Department handle it.
“casa Gris Ghrian Nina seisear faoi thalamh”
(House grey Sun girl six underground )
“Costello…?”
Nobody get any ideas about his plan. Even Captain Ochre couldn’t remember the man Costello.
“Did you receive another his message to Dublin?”
Colonel said.
Lieutenant Khaki answered.
“His first message “This is your loan from me three years ago.” may be that he need for help, because it means that I defeated him by hacking three years ago.”
he seemed to be staring at the monitor cord for a while, read a word:
“…Sunny?”
When he heard that, Captain Ochre noticed something and let out an angry sigh.
After a little bit long silence, he said calmly.
“Pat has a goddaughter, and her nickname was Sunny.”
#captain magenta#patrick donaghue#captain ochre#richard fraser#captain grey#bradley holden#colonel white#charles gray#captain scarlet and the mysterons#fanfic#river sam2
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like blood from a stone | chapter thirty-one
(ao3 title: heavy is the head)
*major smut warning*
I had shown up to school that day with the feeling that I had just witnessed oblivion itself, firsthand, right before my very eyes. In fact, I did witness it in a way: I was over by the mountains not even a few minutes before.
The whole thing felt like a fever dream as Chuck took me to breakfast and we barely had time to eat anything because I needed to be in class. I barely even had the time to enjoy my cup of coffee: he never drove so fast, and I scarcely had the time to even so much as change my clothes to look presentable for first period.
By the time I took my spot at the front of the class, I could feel my head spinning, as if I had been through a whirlwind right outside of the Bay Area.
All the while, I couldn’t stop looking at the silver band on my left finger. It was really happening at the end of that week: the invitations had been sent out and the date had been set and saved. No way out. I could feel my throat closing at the mere thought of it. I could hardly concentrate on my reading as well, and I loved to read, too. I knew that I would have to save it for study hall, but then again, I had no idea if my mind would be so clouded up at that point.
This whole entire thing was clouding my concentration. I really had been stuck in a whirlwind of sorts, a whirlwind and a tornado, and I had been left with nothing more than a veil of clouds all around my head; clouds thicker than the Bay Area fog that found its way into the valley.
When the bell rang, and I walked to my next class, I swore that my memory ducked out on me. High school was pointless to me at that point: I was eager to head on out and let life begin for me with the guitar in my hand. But then again, I also wanted to be under the sheets, in the safety of my own bed, and fall asleep watching American Hot Wax. If there was one thing that I would never, ever forgive the arrangement for, it was taking me away from my parents’ house when I least expected it. My mom did tell me that my room was always open for me in the event of something happening.
But at the same time, I also liked the house down in Dublin. We weren’t far away from the Bay Area, and yet it seemed like such a distant land. It really was over the hills and far away when I thought about it, our very own kingdom, my very own kingdom as of that Saturday.
I needed to kick back. I needed to relax. I needed to eat.
But most of all, I needed someone to talk to. Who could I talk to, though? No one knew of my feelings, and it wasn’t like I could easily talk about them, anyway. I walked through those school hallways with the sliver of gray at the crown of my head like some freak. Some days, I really felt like an alien, and more so on the days when I brought my guitar with me. I would play on the school grounds, but it was the time whereby everyone thought anything heavy was the Devil’s music: add to this, having crushes on other boys only made it worse. I had been told ad nauseam to be myself and yet, every opportunity I partook in to do so showed me that it wasn’t okay, and it wasn’t okay to be me in particular.
I decided to skip study hall and have some time to myself: it wasn’t like I had credit for it, anyway.
I opened the doors at the end of the hallway, and I peered up to the gray sky overhead. I wished for it to rain on me, just because I had nothing in my eyes to state otherwise. I closed my eyes and held still there with one hand on the railing next to me. Young and old at the same time. Too many thresholds at the same time. I had no idea where to turn next.
“Alex?”
I opened my eyes, and I spotted Jeff there at the base of the stairs: he looked odd without the spiked bracelets on his wrists.
“Hey,” I greeted him, and I made my way down the stairs to meet up with him: he showed me that wide smile and nudged a smooth lock of hair behind his ear. “What’s going on?”
“Class was cancelled,” he told me with a shrug. “Add to this, I’ve got lunch coming up here at high noon, so—a whole two hours with nothing to do, and I don’t feel like going to the library, either, because the librarian and I—don't really get along.” He then knitted his eyebrows at me. “What’s going on with you? You look like something’s bugging you.”
“I need some relief,” I told him in a low voice, even though the courtyard all around us was deserted.
“Some relief?” he echoed me with a raise of his eyebrows.
“Yeah. I have this itch I can’t seem to scratch.”
He peered over his left shoulder and down the walkway there was that patch of grass over by the chain link fence where we hung out before, and Chuck from Florida had moseyed on up there. He burst into my mind right then: I knew he wouldn’t be able to fix my predicament, but I knew that his touch would help me a great deal.
That went with Jeff, too: he wouldn’t be able to rectify anything in my life, but his presence could serve as a relief of sorts for me.
“Wanna go over there?” he offered me.
“Please.”
We walked together, and all the while, I peered over my shoulder to ensure no truant officers were following us. Eighteen years old and we were still being treated like unruly children. He and I walked side by side, and as a result, the ends of my curls brushed up against his shoulder and his upper arm.
“You have such soft hair,” he told me, and I showed him a little smile at that.
“Thanks. I do my best to make sure it’s clean and brushed.”
“You’re like a model, Alex,” he joked, and I shook my head.
“Nah, I just want to take care of myself,” I assured him.
We reached the edge of the grass, and we kept on going until we reached the tree by the fence. The gateway to freedom in my eye.
Once we reached the tree, we set our things down and took our spots on the grass, right under the branches and next to the fence. We were out of sight of anyone who might have been coming around the corner of the elevated walkway behind us.
“You and the librarian don’t get along?” I asked him.
“It’s a long story,” he told me.
“Can’t be that bad,” I insisted.
“Oh, it is,” he assured me with a nod.
“C’mon, Jeff, shoot. I'm your target and you’ve got the arrows out of the quiver. Shoot ‘em.”
“Let’s just say I asked her if the school carried The Stand—you know, Stephen King’s book The Stand—and she’s looked at me funny ever since then.”
“Mind you, she does have a cross around her neck,” I pointed out.
“True. But the school also carries the Bible in junction with all kinds of literature that would be deemed inappropriate. It's just—strange is all, especially when you think about what’s actually in the Bible.”
“Oh, yeah, violence, sacrifices, prostitutes, all kinds of debauchery, it’s all in there.”
We fell into silence for a second, and then he cleared his throat.
“Okay, so tell me,” he coaxed me. “What’s on the big, brilliant mind of Alex Skolnick lately?”
“The wedding, for one thing,” I told him. “I don’t know if I'm ready to be married yet, to be honest. I don’t know if I'm ready to be married to Chuck, especially. Marriage, okay, fine, whatever... but to Chuck, though, I dunno, man. I don’t really know how that’s going to play out.”
“Okay, well—do you love him?” he asked.
“Well, yeah, I mean—I do love him in the way that’s expected of me.” I paused for a second, and he flashed a pensive glimpse over at me.
“I sense something coming,” he told me, and I shook my head.
“Nah. There’s nothing else coming.”
“You sure?” he asked with a raise of his eyebrows at me. “I sense a ‘but’ coming, and I don’t just mean your butt.”
I snickered at that, and he did, too.
“My butt? What about your butt?” I raised my eyebrows at that.
“My butt’s got nothing to hide,” he assured me as he leaned back on his right hand and propped up his elbow on his left knee. “It’s like squeezing a full, ripe avocado.”
“Now, that sounds like my butt,” I followed along, and he burst out laughing at that. He gave his hair a toss back with a flick of his head, and then he turned his attention to me again.
“Is it really?” he asked me. I turned back to him.
“Is what really?”
“Is your butt really like squeezing an avocado?” he clarified.
“I dunno, how ‘bout you get over here and give me a squeeze,” I told him. “Check to see if I'm ready for some guacamole.”
“Dip my chips into your guacamole?” he declared with another chuckle.
“Exactly,” I declared with a straight face.
“Would you like some sour cream or salsa?”
“You tell me,” I cracked back at him.
“Now, hang on, is your butt like an avocado or something squishier like a peach?”
“Again, you tell me,” I insisted. “I’ve felt my own ass before and sometimes, it can be hard to tell, especially when I'm moving around a lot.”
“Moving around a lot, like...” He paused, and he showed me his teeth as if he was about to growl like the dirty dog he was.
“Not like that,” I scoffed. “I mean, like—in the shower or when I'm putting on pants. My hands will graze right over my butt, and I'll feel myself there. When I'm moving about the place with my guitar in hand, it’s harder to tell because I'm moving around.” I stopped. “Hang on, what’d you think I meant?”
He pursed his lips and shook his head.
“I won’t say.”
“Come on. We're literally talking about squeezing each other’s butts—I'm sure you can confess something deep and dark to me.”
“I’m not thinking of something deep and dark—you are, Alex,” he insisted.
“’Scuse me, you’re the one who started it by mentioning my butt,” I pointed out.
“At least I didn’t mention the little hard-on you got going on there,” he assured me with a nod to my crotch: indeed, I looked down, and I noticed that little tent right at the center there.
“Like you’re going to make use of my dick,” I scoffed.
“We did mention ‘coming’ back there, you know,” he pointed out, and I tipped my head back and groaned, and he laughed some more. He then moved his head forward and gave his hair another toss, that time forward so it sprawled over his shoulder and his upper arm as if he was in fact a model.
“Are you—hard?” he asked me in a low voice.
“Depends,” I said. “Are you wearing underwear?”
“Hell yeah, after P.E. first period, I'm definitely wearing underwear.”
“Poor guy, you’ve got P.E. still? And first thing in the morning, too? I didn’t have to take that again when I was a sophomore, let alone now in our senior year.”
“Remember when we were showering together, and I snapped your butt with a towel?”
I gaped at him. “That was you?” I demanded, and he giggled like that.
Our eyes locked.
I could feel the blood in my veins as it rushed up to my head as well as all around my hips. He brought his hand to my hip, followed by the zipper. I looked down to see him reaching down into my jeans for a second, and then he tugged down my underwear, so I was out in the open.
“Come on, you—”
Jeff used two hands to hold onto me for a second, and then he fondled and stroked me with his fingertips. I brought my gaze back to him, right as he locked eyes with me again. He slipped his fingers around the base of my dick, which tickled me like crazy. I could feel myself rising and hardening from the feeling. I tilted my head back and opened my mouth from the feeling.
His fingers swept over my skin, all the way up to the head. He was a pro. It was like he knew where to touch me.
I was hardening more and more, such that the cool of the grass and the shade over us could no longer suffice. My pounding heart only warmed me from the inside out.
“Lead the way for me, big fella,” he encouraged me, out of breath. I peered right into his face with my lips parted and my face as warm as the sun on a spring day. Those eyes locked with mine, as if he was hypnotizing me.
“You want me to—?”
He showed me his tongue, like the tongue of a snake, of Satan himself.
He reached down and shoved down his jeans, and then he got down on his hands and knees. I sat up and skirted around him: I peered around the corner to ensure the coast was clear. I returned to him, face down, bare ass up. I held onto his hips and spread my knees apart.
And then, as hard as red-hot metal itself, I thrust into him. It was my first time being on top with it, but I kept it steady as I pushed my dick onto that little sensitive spot between his ass and his dick. He let out these little gasps and whimpers from the sharp point of my dick on that spot. I knew that was the spot that made him hot.
I didn’t want to be too hard on him, but I also wanted to let loose for a brief moment.
And I did. I thrust a few more times onto him, and then I moved up just a hair, so my dick hit him right in the ass. That did something for both of us, not just him.
“Yes,” he muttered as I bore down harder on him. “Yes!”
“Shhh—” Although that was rather pointless because we were being quiet anyway. Quiet despite the obvious noise that ran through my ears. My heart raced as I bore down as hard as I could, and Jeff let out a fit of giggles. I couldn’t help it, either: I was laughing, too. Laughing from the euphoria which ran through me and laughing at the fact that we were doing it doggy style on school grounds when no one was looking.
Jeff let out a soft, low moan, and I knew he had come. But I kept going. Even though he got me off the ground, I had yet to come. A few more times, and then I pulled out of that sensitive spot again, and I lay over his bare ass. I reached around to feel his dick as it glistened from the pearls of precum, and I fondled him with one hand. He used two hands; I should have a right to use only one.
I could feel it on his bare ass, and I could feel it in the shaft. And he let out a glistening white pearl before I could bring my finger closer to the tip. I stuck out my tongue, and then he reached up and gently tugged on my hair, a piece of which had fallen down the side of my head and onto his shoulder.
And yet, I still hadn’t come, though, even with the power and prowess of his own hand on me.
I lifted off from him and looked down to see if I was clean before I put my pants back on.
Jeff was hiding something from me. I could sense it. I could sense it from the sweetest caress of his fingers on my own skin, but it was something else. It was something that I didn’t really want to break to him, at least not inside of this very moment here.
We lay back down on the grass together, nestled up against one another under the tree: I kept my pants unbuttoned and the hem of my shirt lifted so my belly was exposed, while Jeff kept his pants down around his knees. We had plenty of time before the change in periods and I vowed to find him some paper towels before anyone caught us.
“Are you doing something special for your bachelor party?” he asked me in a broken voice.
“Maybe,” I confessed to him. “I don’t really know, to be honest. I don’t really feel like it. I kind of just—want to be alone with my thoughts before the big day.”
He fetched up a sigh and put his hands behind his head. Though he was hiding something from me, that didn’t mean that I had to keep my own secrets under a barricade, especially since we had been intimate with each other, and especially since he was an important part of the wedding.
“I will say this,” I started again to him. “There’s one thing that I was going to say to you back there and—you know, one thing led to another and here we are.”
“Go ahead.”
“But please promise you won’t tell anyone, though,” I told him in a near whisper. “I don’t know if I can handle this getting out in the open.”
He pinched his index finger and his thumb together and brought them up to the corner of his mouth.
“Under lock and key, my man,” he promised me.
“I'm in this very weird state of mind where I still feel like a kid, but I'm obviously an adult now. I don’t really know who to tell this to, either, other than someone my age. I feel so young and so old at the same time. I feel the life of a kid is still with me, but I also still see the responsibilities of an adult. The crown only adds to it, too, like I'm not just going to be married but I'm going to be married and be made into a crown prince, too. I feel alone in it—I'm probably more preoccupied with that than I am with the fact that I'm getting married this weekend.”
He nibbled on his bottom lip. He was in fact hiding something from me, and something inside of me told me that it was something important. I rolled my head back so I could look up to the tree over us: wild to think that we actually did that on school grounds, especially since we were both eighteen and out in the open no less. Everyone could have seen us if we weren’t too careful.
“I really, really don’t know if I can do this, Jeff,” I confessed to him. “I wish I could just forget the whole thing and start anew. I'm an adult now, after all—I can do whatever the hell I damn well please.”
“Yeah, you can,” he said. “Just like how you did me.”
I rolled my head over the grass to see his face right up close to my own.
“Just like how I did you, exactly,” I quipped to him. “Or you did me.”
“You did me,” he pointed out. “You got on top and fucked me—you did me. You can do whatever you want.”
“Maybe I just have cold feet,” I confessed.
“You could tell that to Chuck,” he suggested. “Can’t you postpone the wedding? At least until a time when we don’t have school, like Thanksgiving or something.”
“I don’t know if we can,” I confessed. “I feel like I can do whatever I want but I also can’t. It's like you and the librarian.”
“Well, remember, if you need anyone to talk to, I'll be here,” he assured me. “We’re classmates and we’re both in the arrangement thing, too. We should be able to share our secrets with one another.”
“Including our little round on the grass here?” I asked him.
“Especially our little round on the grass here,” he said, and then he checked his watch. “We’ve got about twenty minutes left.”
“Plenty of time to find a paper towel and maybe shower off,” I declared.
“And snap our butts with the towel?” he joked.
“You’re not snapping my butt with the towel!” I scoffed.
#like blood from a stone#like blood from a stone fanfic#fanfic#fanfiction#slash fanfiction#testament fanfic#testament#testament band#possessed band#chapter 31#alex skolnick#jeff becerra#smut#smut warning#smut and angst#also on ao3#ao3fic#ao3 fanfic#ao3 fic#royalty au#arranged marriage#writing#text
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The Secret Place by Tana French
"You forget what it was like. You'd swear on your life you never will, but year by year it falls away. How your temperature ran off the mercury, your heart galloped flat-out and never needed to rest, everything was pitched on the edge of shattering glass. How wanting something was like dying of thirst. How your skin was too fine to keep out any of the million things flooding by; every color boiled bright enough to scald you, any second of any day could send you soaring or rip you to bloody shreds."
Year Read: 2022
Rating: 3/5
About: At an elite girls' boarding school, there's a bulletin board called The Secret Place where girls are encouraged to anonymously put up postcards of their secrets. A year ago, Chris Harper was found murdered on school grounds, and the case was never solved. When sixteen-year-old Holly Mackey discovers a photo of Chris with the caption 'I know who killed him,' she brings it to Detective Stephen Moran in Cold Cases. Moran has always wanted a shot at Murder Squad, and teaming up with Antoinette Conway, the last detective on Chris's case, may finally give him his chance. But the world of teenage girls is more dangerous and brutal than they ever could have imagined, and every clue they uncover brings them back to Holly's group of friends and their rival clique. Trigger warnings: child death, sexual harassment/assault, slut-shaming, bullying, sexism.
Thoughts: It was so lovely to come back to the Dublin Murder Squad after an unintentionally long break. Whatever my quibbles about the individual books, I absolutely love this series, and French is undoubtedly one of the most talented crime fiction writers out there (as well as my favorite, and that's high praise because I usually have issues with adult crime thrillers). It's hard to describe how it feels to sink into one of her books because no other writer really sounds like her. The lush prose, the sense of place, the astute, often wrenching character studies, the sense of something almost magical lurking around the next corner that somehow isn't at odds with the gritty realities, the way each book somehow comes with the same overwhelming revelation that the mystery is far less important than the people involved in it. The murders are at the heart of each novel, but they’re almost incidental to it under the complicated web of characters and motivations.
Okay, I think I'm done waxing poetic about Tana French's writing in general, and I'm ready to look at things I liked about this novel specifically. First and always, it's the characters. I was looking forward to seeing Stephen Moran's perspective after his appearances in previous books, and he doesn't disappoint. He's young and generally likeable, with a fascinating ability to figure out what people want and give that personality back to them, and I enjoyed the contrast to Conway's take-no-shit approach. It's fascinating to watch them work through a tentative partnership and figure out the ways they can trust and work with each other. I also really enjoyed the varied personalities in Holly Mackey's group of friends and how that friendship is a kind of magic, fragile and temporary but unforgettable. Holly is a powerhouse like her dad, and I'm half-hoping she'll grow up and join the Murder Squad so we can have a book from her perspective.
The rest of the characters, namely Joanne and her group of friends, are frankly hard to read at times. I read more YA than anything else, and for as good at French usually is at capturing voice, I think it goes a little overboard on the OMG like smh teen portrayal. While the themes about male gazes, slut-shaming, and the brutal pecking order of high school are well-developed, I found my interest flagging in most of the chapters that take place in the past with the girls. They drag at the pace of the novel, and I'm not sure we needed quite so much detail on how these friendships functioned a year ago. The present chapters are frequently compelling, as Moran and Conway's interviews with each of the girls turn over new pieces of the mystery and present insights into the characters. The reveal, as always, is less a surprise than a grim, inevitable conclusion. While The Secret Place is probably my least favorite book since In the Woods, it didn't diminish my love for the series at all.
#book review#the secret place#tana french#dublin murder squad#thriller#mystery#adult fiction#3/5#rating: 3/5#2022
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Solo Exhibition - Wanderings
Solo Exhibition – Wanderings
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