#Alfies Antiques

[expatesque]

Had the revelation that shopping is the only thing that makes me happy right now. In related news, bought a Victorian solid gold charm bracelet.

[nonotnolan]

Soul Stones: The Easy Life

“Jordan-- I mean, Alfie-- what are you doing here?”  It was weird seeing my roommate’s body on the couch, playing videos games.  It had only been a few days since my roommate somehow swapped bodies with one of the team’s official tutors, and I was still struggling to get his name right.  "Do you think being an athlete is easy?  Just because Football season’s over, it doesn’t mean you get to slack off!  I thought you were going to the gym today?”

He responded by rolling his eyes at me.  “I did, okay?  I drank the stupid shake, and I lifted weights for... I dunno, fifteen minutes.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m in the middle of a round?”

“No, you’re not excused!”  I grabbed the remote, shut off the TV, and threw the remote back onto the couch.  “What happens when Jordan gets his body back, but he loses his spot on First String Defense because you’re too busy playing fuckin’ Fall Guys, of all games?”

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and started talking to me without making eye contact.  Dunno if he was too nervous to make eye contact with me, or what, but since the real Jordan would have been up close and in my face yelling at me, it really hit home that I was dealing with a different person.  “Look, Tanner... I’m doing my best, okay?  I don’t know what I’m doing!  I don’t know how to gain muscle-- how many reps, how much weight, what routine, which foods?  I’m an Engineering student.  I don’t know the first thing about Health Science, and I can’t even ask for help because no one will take me seriously when I look like this!  Also, in case you had forgotten, I’m not the one who absconded with someone else’s body.”

“I... Alfie, I’m sorry.”  I had to admit, he had a point.  I just assumed he would know enough about fitness to keep Jordan’s body in shape, but... why would he?  Alfie was a super skinny dude.  “Look, what if... I’m done with classes today, right?  What if we both go to the gym?  Everyone will think we’re just two bros talkin’ gym talk, and I can teach you what you need to know.  Sound good?”

A wave of relief washed over him.  “I would really appreciate that,” he said, smiling at me.  “It actually seems kinda fitting.  With as much tutoring as you’ve gotten from me, it feels a bit like a trade.”

-----------------------------------------------

The proofs from my first professional photoshoot were back, and I was loving the results.  In my old life, the only time anyone ever wanted to photograph me, it was for the football team.  Massive shoulders, threatening posture, harsh expressions, deep shadows... everything I hated about masculinity.  But here?  Here I was slender, stylish... and handsome.  Cute, even.

All I ever wanted was to make people happy.  Growing up in the Texas suburbs as I did, that meant playing football.  By the time I figured out the difference between what I wanted and what others wanted for me, I was already 200 pounds of solid muscle.  And once I figured out that I was also a gay man?  Well, I didn’t see the point in getting disowned by all of my friends and family until after I had a steady career to my name.

So when the weirdo at the antique store told me about the body swapping stones, I couldn’t help but daydream about being someone else.  I mean, of course I was skeptical... but they were only $5.  Honestly, I had forgotten they were even sitting on my desk until Alfie asked me about them.  Tanner’s Chemistry mid-term was the next day, so Alfie was in our room, trying to give him a crash course on the five weeks of material he’d skipped.

I just told him they were paperweights, of course-- who’s dumb enough to believe in magic?  But when he picked one up and started tracing the grooved carvings with his thumb, well... maybe I was dumb enough to believe.  I hadn’t told anyone else about them, so if they didn’t work, no one would have any reason to laugh at me.  But if they did work... if there was even a chance... this was my moment.  I took a deep breath, and pressed my index finger onto the polished agate.  By the time Alfie realized he was no longer sitting next to Tanner, I had grabbed the other stone off of my desk and ran out of the room.

I don’t even feel guilty about it, to be honest.  We had followed each other on Instagram back at the start of the year, so I’ve been able to use that to spy on Alfie as he lives my old life.  That is not the face of someone who is unhappy with the way things shook out.  He’s even managed to bag a girlfriend so, like... good for him.  I wish him the best.  It’s the least I can do for stealing his life.

As for me?  Well, I really hadn’t thought too far ahead-- honestly, I’d kept the stones in case I needed a safety net-- but it turns out that Alfie’s parents are crazy loaded and crazy supportive.  When I told them I was thinking about changing majors to something in the Fine Arts, they didn’t even blink.  Hell, they bought me a new apartment downtown, and offered to pay for the transfer to a different college next semester.

I think I might still take some business courses, just in case I need to fall back on something a bit more dependable, but... in the meantime, I’ve been trying to pursue both modeling and photography.  Maybe I’ll hit it big, maybe I won’t... but for once in my life I’m setting aside the grindstone and putting my happiness first.

[mimisempai]

This unavoidable between us - Chapter 3/8

Chapter Summary

Everyday it'a a getting closer, going faster than a roller coaster… 

On Ao3

Rating G - 3494 words

Masterpost here

Day 2 : 

Alfies antique market

Lunch at the Rooftop Kitchen (Restaurant above Alfies)

Public reading of Cyrano de Bergerac at the London Theater

Dinner at Clos Maggiore

Alfies Antique Market was known as London's largest indoor antique and vintage market, and visitors came from all over the world to explore it. Crowley had never had the opportunity, nor the time, nor, if he was honest, the inclination to visit. 

Well, thanks to Aziraphale, or because of him, he apparently would today. 

The day's schedule was not extravagant, and what worried him a bit more was the play reading in the afternoon. Crowley was a visual person, which was why he preferred movies and certain plays. But this was Aziraphale's wish, so of course he'd put up with it and hide his boredom if he had to, and at worst, dinner would make up for it, especially if the evening turned out like yesterday.

Last night...

To say that last night had surprised him would be an understatement. Though the surprise had been pleasant, of course. It had all happened so naturally that Crowley still felt like he was living a dream. Which was rather amusing, considering it was Aziraphale who had paid for his dreams to come true. He had to stop himself from reacting like a lovesick teenager and touching his forehead again. No one had kissed him on the forehead like that since his mother had done it when he was a child. Not that he had any filial feelings for Aziraphale. Far from it. Very far from it.

He just hoped they wouldn't be awkward this morning. 

They'd agreed that Crowley would knock on Aziraphale's door a little before ten and then leave for Alfies Antiques Market.

Crowley looked at his watch: it was nine, so he had plenty of time to get ready.

**********

Aziraphale had just finished dressing when he heard a light knock on his door and smiled, knowing full well who was behind the door. Aziraphale couldn't help but smile at the anticipation of spending another day with Anthony. Yesterday had been enjoyable in every way until the very last minute, in fact he was tempted to describe it as perfect. There was something special about Anthony, an ease that Aziraphale had never felt with anyone else. 

Shaking his head to clear his mind, Aziraphale called out, "Come in! It's open!"

Once inside, Crowley greeted him with the same warm, irresistible smile.

"Good morning, Aziraphale."

"Good morning, Anthony. Let me get my wallet and we'll be on our way. "

Aziraphale took his wallet, put it in his jacket pocket, then walked over to Anthony, who held the door open for him. As he passed him, Aziraphale ventured a kiss on the other man's cheek, then walked across the hall, leaving Anthony to close the door behind them.

In the elevator to the second floor, though they were alone and had all the room in the world, Aziraphale moved closer to Anthony until their shoulders touched. Then, feeling bold, he slid his hand along Anthony's, but didn't take it. It was Anthony who made the final gesture, as he had the night before, intertwining his fingers with Aziraphale's, looking up at him and smiling softly.

Crowley savored the moment, for he was pretty sure that Aziraphale would let go of his hand once he was outside. So he enjoyed it while it lasted, savoring the sensation of Aziraphale's warm hand in his, and was jolted from his reverie by the sound of the elevator doors opening. 

Just as he expected to lose contact, Aziraphale's hand tightened on his, almost pulling him out of the elevator and he didn't let go until the cab arrived.

Once they were seated in the back of the car, Aziraphale took his hand again and placed both of their intertwined hands on his own thigh.

Though Crowley had tried to hide his surprise, Aziraphale had seen it and asked him gently, "Would you rather I let go of your hand, I didn't realize you might not be comfortable with public displays of affection."

He started to release his fingers, but Crowley wouldn't let him, protesting vehemently, "No, not at all, on the contrary, I thought it would be you who..."

"Anthony, I've never hidden who I am, so there's no reason for me to do so today. Especially not today. I'm proud of who I am."

Crowley found him magnificent in his self-assurance, and unable to resist the moment's compulsion, he leaned in and kissed Aziraphale. It was only a light kiss, barely a peck on the lips, but to Crowley it was also a way of confirming that they were on the same wavelength. When he sat back down properly, he saw in the rearview mirror that the driver rolled his eyes, and it made him chuckle.

Then, still holding hands, they talked about the day's agenda as the car headed toward Alfie Market. Crowley, intrigued by their destination, asked Aziraphale why he wanted to go there.

"I love old things, you know that by now, the idea that these things have had a life before... kind of like they have a soul. It's important to me to spend this week with things I love, doing things I love." Then Aziraphale winked and added, "And doing it with someone special is even better."

It had been several times since Aziraphale had spoken of this week as special, and Crowley sensed that there was something inescapable about the other man's life, as if whatever he did this week, he would never do again, but Crowley didn't feel entitled to ask.

So he said in a lighter tone, "That's a good reason. A very good reason, in fact. I have to admit, I've never been one for this sort of thing, but you make it sound interesting." 

Crowley confirmed this with a sincere smile. He didn't want Aziraphale to think he was doing this reluctantly.

They chatted lightly throughout the ride, only realizing they'd arrived when the driver coughed to point it out.

For two hours they wandered the aisles, stopping to look at the odd object that caught Aziraphale's eye. Then they moved on without buying anything, much to the despair of the vendors. Crowley wondered why Aziraphale hadn't taken anything when he'd obviously seen his eyes shine on one antique or another. But once again, he felt it wasn't his place to point it out.

Aziraphale, for his part, couldn't remember the last time he'd been so relaxed and at ease with someone. Anthony was quick-witted and humorous, and now that he felt comfortable with Aziraphale, he didn't hesitate to tease him. They both had a good sense of humor, and their exchanges were invigorating for Aziraphale. When they sometimes became separated by the crowd, it was often the other man who would take his hand again so that they could continue on their way.

After a while, Anthony looked at his watch and said sheepishly, "I'm sorry, I don't want to dampen your enthusiasm, but given the time, I think we should walk quietly to the restaurant, which is a few floors up."

Aziraphale nudged him with his shoulder and said in an amused tone: "There's something I love even more than old things, Anthony, and that's eating. So don't be sorry, you're not dampening my enthusiasm at all, on the contrary, you're rekindling it."

Five minutes later, they arrived at the Rooftop Kitchen, a rooftop restaurant. The weather was perfect, warm but not too hot, and most of all, Crowley was pleasantly surprised by the simplicity of the place. At least he didn't have to watch his manners.

"We've reserved a table, a bit away from the crowd." 

Crowley exchanged a few words with the manager, who led them to a table effectively set back from the others and protected by an umbrella. 

Aziraphale smiled at him, leaned back in his chair and, stretching his legs out in front of him, said, "I'll leave you in charge this time."

Crowley, a little surprised, took the menu. After a few moments, he placed his order with the waitress, and a few moments later they were seated in front of a plate of mussels and shrimp in a lemon and wine sauce. Judging by Aziraphale's appreciative moan at the first bite, Crowley figured he'd chosen well.

As they ate, they continued to chat until Crowley, looking a little uncertain, said quietly, "Aziraphale, may I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"I really feel like I'm the one getting the most out of this 'vacation' while you're the customer, and I want to make sure you're satisfied." 

Aziraphale couldn't help but laugh before answering seriously.

"Anthony, I'm enjoying the company of a man who's more than attractive, who can hold a conversation, who makes me laugh, and we're doing what I've always dreamed of doing. Are you asking me if I'm satisfied? I couldn't have asked for more. Just keep being yourself." 

Crowley couldn't help but blush at the compliment and stammered back a bit, "Ah...uh...well, okay then...okay."

Aziraphale placed his hand on hers, which was resting on the table, and added, "I'll be honest, I can't even remember when I've had such a good time. In my whole life."

Aziraphale didn't know if it was the thought of his impending death that had caused him to drop all inhibitions and speak with such sincerity, but what he did know was that he had no desire for pretense with the man in front of him. 

Crowley felt the bond resonate between them at that moment, and was so touched by Aziraphale's sincerity that he almost told him about their soul mate connection, but he didn't want to break their fragile new bond, so he preferred to remain silent. He had seen the other man's face close up the one time the subject had come up, and he didn't want to spoil the moment, so he chose to continue the conversation in a lighter tone.

Aziraphale saw a smile he hadn't seen on Anthony's lips before, and that smile seemed to light him up from within as he asked, "So, Aziraphale, you know a lot of the things we're doing are new to me. So I'd like you to tell me a little bit about what we're going to be doing this afternoon so I know what to expect? 

"Well, as the program for the day indicates, we're going to attend a reading of Cyrano de Bergerac. I've always loved this story, and when I heard there was a free reading at the London Theatre with Michael Sheen as Cyrano, I thought this would be the perfect opportunity. If not to see the play, to hear it one last time. Er, I mean the last reading."

Crowley had noticed the slip, but let it go, not wanting to spoil the lightness of the moment, and asked, "And what's this piece about? Yes, I know, I could have looked into it earlier, but..."

Aziraphale interrupted him with a wave of his hand and a half-smile before replying, "It's even better that you don't know anything about it, so you can find out during the reading itself, and then we can discuss it as much as you like. I'd like you to see it without any preconceptions. If you agree, of course?" 

Crowley nodded. 

"Very mysterious, all that, but I'm fine with it."

After coffee, having decided against dessert, they set off for the theater.

Aziraphale was impatient, but he wasn't sure if it was for the reading or for Crowley's reactions. The agency had done an excellent job on time. They sat down in the middle of the second row. The lights dimmed, the stage lit up, and the actors entered for the reading.

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale's hand in his excitement, causing Aziraphale to turn slightly toward him. Crowley's attention was focused on the stage, and Aziraphale already knew he would spend more time looking at him than at the actors. What a show! Watching all the emotions pass over Crowley's face, Aziraphale felt like a privileged witness.

"...But in spite of you, one thing goes with me now, and tonight, when I, at last, God behold, my salute will sweep his blue threshold with something spotless, a diamond in the ash, which I take in spite of you and that's...my panache" 

After a moment of silence, the crowd began to clap, and Crowley joined in, before turning to Aziraphale and exclaiming, "That was soooo great, I've never seen anything like it! Thank you for letting me live this experience! Once again, I feel like I'm the most spoiled person in this arrangement. "

At that moment Aziraphale felt the full weight of his fate for a brief moment, the intensity of Crowley's joy made him realize that everything he was experiencing was the first and last time, but he pulled himself together, not wanting to spoil Crowley's happiness or his own. They left, following the audience as they made their way to the doors.

"So, what did you think of the story and the main character, Cyrano?" asked Aziraphale, curious to hear his companion's analysis.

"First, I have to tell you something I hadn't noticed before. Except for the beard and the gray hair, it's amazing how much you look like Michael Sheen."

Aziraphale couldn't help laughing, and Crowley added, "It's no joke, I assure you, although you do look prettier."

Then, unaware of Aziraphale's blush at his compliment, he continued, "I'm actually quite torn. I admire Cyrano's intelligence and panache, as well as his use of language. His sacrifice is admirable. But he deceives both his heart and Roxane's, since she's in love with the author of the letters, who is Cyrano himself."

Aziraphale listened, once again pleasantly surprised by Anthony's perspective, as he went passionately on, "and, yes, in the end he still has his panache as he says, but he won't have known a minute of true happiness in his life, since he will never have been able to enjoy Roxane's love. But if he had told her the truth..." 

Aziraphale was genuinely surprised; it was the first time he'd met someone who shared his opinion of Cyrano's character. He refused to dwell on the fact that his fate was somewhat similar to Cyrano's.

They talked animatedly about the play all the way home and were still discussing it when they reached the suite. Aziraphale had no desire to end the moment, so as he opened his door, he asked Anthony, "Would you like to continue the conversation over a drink until we get to the restaurant?" 

Anthony nodded eagerly and Aziraphale motioned for him to follow, showed him to the sofa and invited him to sit down.

"A drop of scotch?" 

"Sounds good to me." 

Aziraphale poured their drinks, took his and handed the other to Crowley. They raised their glasses and took a sip. 

When suddenly Crowley's phone buzzed. 

He set his glass down and pulled the phone out of his pocket.

"Ah, damn. Apparently there's been a mix-up regarding tonight's reservation at the restaurant. However, the agency is offering to find us a replacement. "

Aziraphale replied quietly, "After this day and the way it's ending, I must admit it's almost welcome, I don't feel much like going out again."

Crowley answered the agency, then put his phone away as Aziraphale said in a falsely concerned tone, "There's still one big problem though."

Crowley played along and asked, "Ah? What's that?" 

"Well, how are we going to keep from getting bored tonight?" 

Aziraphale, surprised again at the ease with which he flirted, slid closer to Crowley on the sofa. He was even more pleasantly surprised when Crowley murmured as he also moved closer, "Hmm... I might have an idea or two."

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow and replied in the same tone, "Oh, really? Show me, please."

Crowley moved even closer until he was leaning over Aziraphale, pressing his lips to his in a light kiss. When he pulled away, Aziraphale held him back and murmured against his lips, "This is just the starter, I hope?"

Crowley replied in the same tone, "It's up to you to decide what's next on the menu."

Aziraphale didn't wait and immediately showed Crowley his choice, pressing his lips against his. The kisses were light, hesitant, as if testing each other, rediscovering the budding complicity of their first kiss.

When Aziraphale pulled away a little, he murmured, "I prefer this to any Italian food from Clos Maggiore," before capturing Crowley's lips again.

Crowley moaned his approval in the kiss, then parted his lips slightly and Aziraphale took the opportunity to slip his tongue into Crowley's mouth. 

There was nothing urgent about their kiss; it was soft and sensual, and they took their time tasting each other, tongues wandering between mouths, teeth nibbling gently on lips while the other took time to breathe. 

Aziraphale's hands tangled in Crowley's red hair, now completely tousled, while Crowley gently stroked Aziraphale's hips, then his back, still without frenzy.

After a few moments of kissing, they both pulled away a little, their lips moist, red, and slightly swollen.

They both laughed softly and stayed that way, forehead to forehead, for a moment, catching their breath.

Then Aziraphale asked gently, "How far do you want to go, Anthony?"

"Honestly, I don't know. I like what we have here and I would be happy to let things happen naturally, and I know we don't have a lot of time together, but I don't want to rush things either, you understand?"

Aziraphale understood him perfectly, and raising his hand to trace the outline of Crowley's face with his fingertips, he said gently, "Anthony, it's important that we get through this week unscathed."

Especially you, Aziraphale thought as he continued, "So know that if it's going to stay the way it is, I have no problem with that. I'm already more than happy with what we are sharing right now."

Aziraphale was sincere. What had just happened was more than pleasant, and if that was all there was to it, he would be satisfied with it - after all, he hadn't had any particular expectations when he had planned the week. It was already more than he could have hoped for. 

Touched by Anthony's sincerity, he simply said, "Thank you."

Crowley smiled and nodded gently, then leaned over and murmured against Aziraphale's mouth, "Now that we're done with the serious talk, I'd like to pick up where we left off." 

Then, as he pinned Aziraphale against the back of the sofa, he pressed his lips to his, and it was only a matter of moments before Aziraphale found himself with Crowley on his lap as their mouths resumed the dance they had begun earlier. Then, as if they understood each other perfectly, every time things got a little more heated, one or the other would relieve the pressure in one way or another. After a while, Crowley slid back to Aziraphale's side and rested his head on his shoulder, while Aziraphale's arm came naturally around his shoulders. They remained like that for a long moment, in comfortable silence.

Aziraphale breathed, "...perfect... " 

Then Crowley felt his hand slide down his arm and drop to the sofa. He looked up to see that Aziraphale had fallen asleep.

Touched by the trust this implied, even though they'd only known each other the day before, Crowley took a few more moments to gaze at him. He could now see a certain vulnerability in the face of the man sleeping against him. He didn't know if it was their bond that made him react, but he had a fierce desire to protect him, to remove that shadow from his face.

He felt that his feelings for Aziraphale were growing at a dizzying pace, and even though he knew it was hopeless, he wanted to surrender to it anyway. Just to taste it. Just a little.

He watched over Aziraphale's sleep for a few more minutes before he felt that he, too, was about to fall asleep. But knowing that waking up would be painful if they both fell asleep in that position, he straightened up gently. Then, seeing that Aziraphale was unresponsive, he settled him on the sofa, found a pillow for his head, and covered him with a plaid blanket he found on a chair not far from the sofa. Aziraphale was sleeping so peacefully that he hadn't even woken up.

Crowley looked at him tenderly for a few more seconds, then leaned over and brushed the light hair gently back, kissing him lightly on the forehead before whispering, "Good night, Aziraphale."

Aziraphale responded with a soft mumble that elicited an amused chuckle from Crowley, who headed for his room. He took one last look at him on his way out, then closed the door behind him.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable fan fictions Masterpost : here

[whentommymetalfie]

Alfie proposes to Tommy with the biggest diamond ring money can buy (i’ve had a little google and discovered that Kim Kardashian’s engagement ring is 20 carat)

(Side note: I went down a bit of a rabbit hole myself, researching expensive engagement rings, to decide how the one Luca has bought for Tommy in Bird Song so this has been on my mind lately!)

ohh Alfie's going all out on that ring. He wants people to be able to see that diamond from space. Ask Tommy if it's not heavy, carrying that around. However, there's a bit of a problem. Because Alfie would also want to buy Tommy something slightly understated (but still as expensive as possible) because he thinks that's what he'd like the most. Tommy likes the finer things in life, obviously, but doesn't wear a lot of jewelry. Alfie considers his options, which are nearly unlimited. Something with diamonds, but perhaps smaller ones along the band? Possibly a slightly larger in the middle. The problem is, what really costs money is an insanely huge diamond. And Alfie can't have people thinking he WOULDN'T buy Tommy the most expensive ring possible. So it's a real conundrum. How big of a diamond can he get while still fitting Tommy's tastes?

Finally he enlists Ada for help. And she just scoffs. "Please, get him a big fuck-off diamond. He'll love it."

So, big, fuck-off diamond it is.

The solution comes in the form of a store that specializes in antique jewelry, where he finds one that's 1, very tasteful and definitely up to Tommy's standards and 2, expensive enough to pay for a small flat.

Alfie is still nervous not just about the proposal itself (which is its own, separate problem) but about the ring as well. But he needn't have worried about either. Tommy loves the ring. A bit like a magpie with shiny things, isn't he, Alfie realizes. And decides he should buy him more jewelry.

[vestaclinicpod]

Audio Drama Sunday - 5th May ✨

There’s something so so satisfying about HFTH being on ep 150, while TSV is on 40 and Travelling Light (TL, if you will) is on 20 . . . the brain is going brrrr.

Here’s what I listened to this week! Spoilers ahead!

👻 @tellnotalespod (S2E9) oh what a beautiful episode 😭I’d like to bestow the highest accolade on Flo’s VA: hearing her voice and immediately casting her in an unwritten audio drama that will likely never be made. I have a theory about why Frank can’t just clear out the warehouse . . . but I really don’t want it to be true. 

🌲 @hellofromthehallowoods (150) You can also find me in Camp ‘Hate That Noise’!! Awful. I love this nautical storyline so much. It’s one thing to be told that Buck is now a renowned detective and another to see him in action. Sad that someone had to die but . . . I can’t wait to see the case unfold!! I’ve been trying to wrap my head around Shelby leaving the entire week. Yes, it makes perfect sense from a survival point of view but I don’t think I could have done it. 

🦀 @thesiltverses (40) what a good ep!! I’ve been so compromised by Carpenter this season. She sounds so very exhausted, even when she’s not being stalked by her god of death. I’m very concerned about ‘Verity’ who left the minute they arrived… did she recognise them?? Chuck Harm and Val are one of the most unexpected combinations of the year but I’m here for it. It is VERY interesting that Val is now suffering post-miracle. Is this a ‘gods need to feed’ situation or something else entirely. Working with God-killers worked so well for the government last time, so it’ll no doubt be over for her in no time . . .

🧳 Travelling Light @monstrousproductions (20) I can’t tell you how delightful it is that this show comes out on Friday and is exactly the length of my average cycle home!! It’s such a soothing way to start the weekend! There were so many banging lines in this ep, I love a spooky friend!

🏛 @the-mistholme-museum (CONCLUSIVE) You heard it on Mistholme first! People from Yorkshire (me) have the best voices. Like honey, chocolate and coffee all at once - so people say. I can’t believe this is the penultimate episode 😭

🖥️ The Magnus Protocol (14) snake friends! How delightful!! I feel a little guilty at how entertaining Alice’s jealousy is. I feel so bad for her, but the office drama is too hard to resist. 

🍎 @notquitedeadpod (XXXVII) my heart!! 💔 I had to laugh at Neige’s disdain for Alfie’s more intimate recordings right before expounding on his own experiences . . . including with their shared boyfriend! It’s a little petty. I love it. And, god, can we talk about this last line? ‘And when you call, I will come back to you because you have begun to feel like home.’ HELLO? Christ.

🌞 Small Victories by @wgc-productions (2.1) How many cosmic interventions will it take for Marisol not to make cosmically bad choices? I don’t know! I’m keeping a close eye on Summer . . . 

🧋 @hinaypod (3-4) Honestly, kind of kudos to Laura because if I went through what she did I would simply never touch an antique again… I really love Donner and Murphy’s rapport and how they recognise and respect Mari’s skills! 

Hope everyone has a lovely week! 🥰

I'd also like to highlight that the creators of one of my fave shows, Moonbase Theta, Out (@monkeymanproductions) , are crowdfunding for their next one! Throw some 💸 at these lovely creatives!!

[cesqdarque]

The Pursuit of Equilibrium

Chapter One: Mountain Peaks

About a year ago, I started to give my MC, Cassandra Darque, a backstory. What started out more as a thought soon developed further in my mind. It literally won't let me go. So, because I can't just put everything into edits, I decided to write it down. And in a rush of courage, I thought, I might as well share it. Let's start with the first chapter then. A big thank you to the lovely @thetotomoo, who beta read my first attempts in writing a story 🖤

Summary: Cassandra Darque, the granddaughter of the matriarch of the Montague clan, has to leave her homeland to seek refuge at Hogwarts because of her past crimes. A new reality she first has to process. Words: 2k Tags: angst | dealing with grief | reference to self-harm | short description of blood And for the vibes: Within Temptation - Overcome (Instrumental)

The pendulum of the antique wood-paneled Burgundy clock swung back and forth. A soft ticking filled the room. And yet it seemed to her as if time stood still. Clotted blood, like cold sweat, adorned the pale, lifeless body at her feet. Empty, impassive eyes, extinguished was the fire that once burned so warmly in them.

An uneasy feeling arose inside her, climbed the path from her abdomen over her lungs, took her breath away, and lay on her chest like an oppressive shadow. She heard her pulse start racing, her heart beating incessantly, each anxious beat chasing the next. Her hands began to tremble, and she surrendered to the weakness that forced her to her knees. Tears clouded her vision and gradually fell from the tip of her eyelashes to the floor until her face felt hot and wet.

A pitiful cry escaped her mouth, but it only fell on deaf, dead ears. No one would rush to her aid since the disaster had already been done. No magic in the world could ever bring back the dead, she knew that. Realization loomed like a dark cloud over her existence. A darkness that she would never be able to leave behind from that moment on.

 "Miss Darque. Miss Darque... please." A nervous, quickening voice penetrated her consciousness. "Please, wake up..."

Bony fingers closed around her forearm and Cassandra startled out of the obscurity. She supported herself with both hands on the soft surface of her mattress. She gasped; it seemed so real to her. But it always felt so real. She regularly struggled with nightmares and this night had been no exception.

"Miss Darque?" It squeaked again to her left, this time with caution in its speech.

Cassandra ran her palms through her sweat-soaked hair before turning to the familiar voice. Two pointed ears, large eyes, and the worried face of Alfie the house elf peeked over the edge of her bed

"Everything is fine, Alfie," she answered shortly and tried to calm her pulse with regular breaths. "Nightmare," she admitted curtly and pulled the silk duvet over her lap. She must have been tossing and screaming in her dream, otherwise the house-elf would not have appeared uninvited in her bedroom.

"Miss, shall we wake up your grandmother?" the elf asked worried and his blue googly eyes looked at her attentively.

"That won't be necessary, Alfie." She answered him promptly and waved him away.

Her grandmother must not think that her granddaughter is afraid of the shadows in her dreams. She was quite embarrassed that she was still dreaming of that night that had happened so many years ago. The events that happened in the past had already occurred and were irreversible. There was no point in indulging in these memories, neither the good nor the bad ones. It enraged her that her subconscious probably perceived it differently, that she could not forget the horrendous images.

But this was her personal struggle. The constant quarrel between her common sense and her nonsensical subconscious.

No reason to bother her grandmother. At least no more than that she was already informed anyway. The walls of the estate were thin, and the staff tended to gossip. She rolled her eyes in disgust and let out a contemptuous sigh. It didn't help, she wouldn't find any rest, let alone sleep, that night.

Lost in thought, her delicate fingers glided over the smooth material of her blanket. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Alfie, devoted as ever, was still standing quietly beside her bed. She sighed again.

"Alfie, I'm fine. I request you to return to your quarters." she turned her upper body and looked at the little elf with a serious expression before continuing, "And please, keep it to yourself. We don't want my grandmother to have to worry about me. No more than she already does."

Grandmother had enough on her plate, and Cassandra was aware of that. And admittedly, it was to a large extent her fault. That nightmarish evening so many moons ago had changed everything. For her, for her grandmother, for her entire family. In summary, for those who were still left to her.

With his skinny fingers, Alfie nervously fiddled with the purple varnish that was wrapped around his body like a toga. He was visibly concerned. However, it was not up to him to resist an order, or, as in this case, a direct demand from a family member of his esteemed mistress. He swallowed and finally nodded to her.

"As you wish, Miss." After a short bow, he turned around, strolled to the exit, and left the room to look for his own sleeping quarters.

A soft click could be heard as the door was gently pulled into its trap. Cassandra was alone again. She took a deep breath, but the uncomfortable, constricting feeling in her chest threatened to plague her again. So, she threw the supple bedding aside, let her feet slide to the floor, and got up.

Her gaze wandered through the moonlit room. Larch wood paneling, antique pieces of furniture draped with fine crocheted knitted doilies, and a collection of old photographs. As is well known, taste was debatable, she thought to herself as she walked towards the large floor-to-ceiling windows of the room. Of course, she was grateful that her grandmother had taken her in after the loss of her parents, no question. However, she never felt completely at home.

An estate so spacious, with countless rooms and endless corridors, curious servants, and overzealous house elves. It didn't correspond to the homely little house in secluded family realms, surrounded by breathtaking peaks and dense coniferous forest, where she had spent her early childhood.

Her hand clasped the cold brass of the window handle and with a tug, she twisted the bolt out of its holder and opened the window wide. The cool night air blew towards her. The first frost, which announced the impending autumn, had already settled over the fields of the valley and made them shimmer under the clear sky of the dawning day.

She took a deep breath and let her thoughts wander freely like an eagle over the high mountain range of the Val d'Aosta. Free from the shackles of her fears, and her worries. Free from the bars of her mental cage, in which she found herself locked in time and time again.

What would she give for just one night to cut all the earthly ties and move like a ghost over the hills, the peaks, and clouds of this world. Free, truly free.

Her gaze drifted over the hills and plains of the valley and lingered for a moment on the ruins of the Castello di Cly. A medieval castle that had once stretched its battlements skywards so gloriously had now deteriorated into a crumbling pile of stones due to the ravages of time. Time was invincible. Fate was inevitable.

Absent-mindedly, she ran the fingertips of her right hand over the inside of her left wrist. She gently traced the lines of healed flesh. Scars, she thought, were like ruins, memories of past toils. Of past versions of herself. She sighed softly and clasped her hands in her lap.

The dawning day would bring changes again. In a few hours, one of her grandmother's lackeys would pick her up from her current home and she would have to be hustled into a carriage to start her journey up North. All her arguments failed to change her grandmother's mind, the risk of uninvited visitors on her behalf was too eminent. It was her sole fault. If she hadn't let herself be seduced by the drunken promise of sweet revenge, she wouldn't have gotten into these precarious circumstances that forced her grandmother to send her away.

Until Cassandra was assured the situation was calmly resolved, her only alternative was to leave the country to escape the authorities. She sighed, grateful for her grandmother’s quick thinking and cunning allowing her to escape the noose even if she had to make some questionable diplomatic deals.

A cold shiver ran down her spine and made her shudder. She turned away from the open window and walked towards the large double-winged wardrobe. Despite her imminent departure, she had not yet been able to bring herself to pack her few belongings and clothes. So, she opened the spacious cupboard, examining the many fabrics neatly hung in their place. Her hand passed over the fine fabric of her numerous lace-embellished dresses. She strongly doubted that this fine yarn matched the usual dress code at her destination but nevertheless, she wanted to take a special piece with her.

She grabbed the hanger, lifted it from the rack, and held a black dress made of heavy velvet fabric with sleeves adorned with fine lace fabric in front of her. It was a dress that her mother used to wear when she still lived in these chambers and walked carelessly through the gardens of the estate. A relic from past cheerful days. She folded it carefully and placed it on her bedstead. More clothes followed and soon the contents of the closet were almost emptied, the mountain of textile on her mattress had grown considerably and a suitcase had been dug out of the depths of the wardrobe.

A gentle breeze carried the first rays of sunshine of the day through the open window and there was a hint of departure in the air. Rummaging through her cupboard had made her forget the time and only a short knock tore her out of her efficiency.

She looked over her shoulder, "Come in."

The door was pushed open a little and a pair of pointed ears appeared as Alfie peeked through the gap. "Miss Darque, are you up yet?" the house-elf asked politely as he entered the room. His googly eyes caught the work piled up on her mattress and widened. "But... Miss Darque, what are you doing?" he asked in surprise.

"Well, guess what, I'm packing," she replied.

"Alfie would have done that for you, Miss. Mrs. Montague just tasked him to do it..."

"Oh, hogwash. I can do that myself," Cassandra responded and began to pack the accumulation of clothes into her suitcase.

The house-elf stepped further into the room and approached the suitcase to take it. But Cassandra grabbed the handle, pulled the suitcase to herself, and remained kneeling on the floor in front of her piece of luggage.

"Alfie," she reprimanded the elf, "at least let me do something."

"Excuse me, Miss, but Alfie has clear instructions from your grandmother," he answered in an apologetic voice before he closed the lid of the suitcase.

Cassandra let out a loud frustrated snort. "All right," she rolled her eyes, "but just let me add something...".

She stood up and targeted the chest of drawers draped with white crochet doilies. She single-mindedly grabbed the gold-framed photograph of a young woman, who greeted her with a warm mien and a gentle smile. The black velvet dress flattered her elegant silhouette immensely. Cassandra smiled sadly at her mother's image before she plucked up the courage to return to her luggage with the photo in her hands and placed it on top of the pile of clothes in the suitcase.

"Voilà," she said, "that's all."

The only thing she wanted to keep with her at this abode was in the leather piece of luggage that the eager elf now held in his hands. She was willing to leave everything else behind, not just because she had to, but because she wanted to. A last glance over the silken blankets of her bed, over to the open window, over the high peaks of the valley. Into the vastness of the sky, which was washed into dawn by the rising sun, for one day she hoped to view it all again as a free witch.

[solomons-finest-rum]

"Melting the Ice" — (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader)

SUMMARY — Modern!AU. Your insufferable neighbour is getting on your last nerve. You decide to give him a piece of your mind.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Written for @meri47 💗💗💗💗 in spirit of this beautiful season, I borrowed the beautiful autumnal dividers from @firefly-graphics

WORD COUNT — 2,318

Masterlist

The bastard has done it again.

The loud music, the noises, the unmistakable sounds of a party held on a rainy Tuesday evening.

What kind of an arsehole throws a party on a Tuesday?!

The “your upstairs neighbour” kind, or so it would seem. You sighed and stubbed your cigarette out in an ornate ashtray your grandmother gave you. Antique and unusual, it was your favourite possession.

Two quarters of an hour passed and it soon became clear your quiet evening with a book would turn to nothing. The party was becoming too noisy, even for that mad bastard and his usual modus operandi. You decided to take the matters into your own hands. 

As you grabbed the night robe and threw one last wistful glance at the detective story you were reading, something broke upstairs. Then a racket of girlish giggles mixed with men’s booming voices concluded the accident and someone turned up the music.

“Fuck’s sake,” you muttered under your breath and put an old cinema stub between the pages of your book as a makeshift bookmark. “I cannot believe him!”

The book, as expected, did not answer and neither did your cat, Tigerfish. He was another part of your grandmother’s inheritance, together with the flat, though while the real tiger fish, the Goliaths of the tropical waters if you will, would spent their blissful aquatic existence hunting, the feline Tigerfish preferred a quiet life of contemplation—taking advantage of your soft heart and your shared fondness for the fireplace.

Few seconds later, someone upstairs dropped a glass and then the music swelled. Cursing under your breath, you grabbed the keys and put on the first pair of shoes you had by the door.

The red pumps.

For special assignments.

Slamming your front door behind you made no difference, but it did make you feel a little better. As the elevator arrived on your floor with a preposterous ding, you decided to take it. The stairs were slippery after all and you did choose the least practical shoes for the journey.

“This the tenth floor?” the man inside the elevator asked and you shook your head before getting in and hitting the button for number ten.

Lucky bull’s eye you supposed, but you must have looked angry enough for the man to just chuckle and leave you alone. You gave him a once-over and a scoff when you noticed he was carrying a bag of ice. Undoubtedly one of the party guests and therefore your sworn enemy.

“Hm. Don’t suppose you smugglin’ a light anywhere in that outfit, luv?”

A little startled, you looked up and your eyes met the stranger’s. He was smirking at you in the most forward of ways, something you weren’t exactly expecting to see so clearly, for his beard was toeing the line between simply uncombed and downright unkempt.

“No,” you answered him sharply. “And for your information, I don’t smoke.”

“Right.”

“It’s a nasty habit.”

“That it is, yeah,” the man replied. “But it’s either that or dope, what can I say.”

“What?!”

The man shook his head as if you were the immature one and gave you another smirk. You arrived upstairs.

“Come on then,” he said and nodded at the door. “Can’t stand here all night, can we?”

To your dismay, he seemed rather amused by your tone and even opened the door for you—before you kicked it down with pure outrage alone.

The sounds of the party hit you with full force then; the laughter, the booming voices and of course the music, blasting at full force.

“Oi! Alfie!” someone shouted at you two as soon as the front door closed behind you. “Come ‘ere, meet Lizzie!”

“Right, yeah, got any light, mate?!” Alfie then yelled and suddenly the bag of ice was in your hands. “Here, luv, hold this for me, would ya?”

“You’re joking?!”

Alfie laughed at your shrill tone and stepped behind you, accidentally pushing you more towards the kitchen. Or perhaps entirely on purpose, who could even tell with a creature so impertinent.

You watched Alfie saunter towards the pair to get his cigarette lit by a short handsome man with a ridiculous haircut. Next to him stood a much taller, much more glamorous woman, and as Alfie squeezed her hand suddenly you felt very naked in your nightgown. This was supposed to be an in and out kind of thing…

“Right, ‘s a pleasure, Lizzie, really is,” Alfie said to the woman and took a long drag on his cigarette. “I’ll get back to ya, Tom. Got a situation in the kitchen, yeah?”

Tom and Lizzie looked then to where Alfie was pointing and your cheeks felt hot as soon as you realised that you were the situation. You hugged the ice closer, completely self-conscious and all of a sudden not so sure if you could berate the damn apartment owner quite as strongly as you had hoped to do. You were losing your nerve. Alfie made you lose your nerve.

“Right, I’m back now. Let me just put that away, luv,” he then said to you, the cigarette still hanging out the corner of his mouth. He outstretched his hand towards you and the gesture jolted you no less than the elevator had.

“Hm?”

“Yeah, the ice, luv, so kindly move your behind.”

“I beg your pardon?!”

“The ice. You’re meltin’ the ice.”

He pointed then to the plastic bag you were still holding and to you, completely blocking his access to the freezer doors.

“Oh,” you sighed and handed it back as if Alfie was inconveniencing you in the first place. “Fine! Now listen here. Whose party is this, exactly?”

“What?” Alfie crouched down to put the ice away and grumbled when he saw just how many bottles of vodka were stashed in the freezer. “Fuck’s sake, what a mess…”

“Whose party is this? I need to speak with him.”

“Yeah?” Another smirk, another huff on the cigarette. The smell and the audacity honestly made you crave one, too. “And why is that, hm?”

“That’s my business.”

“Right.”

“But I’m guessing you might just know who he is.”

“And why do you think so, luv?” Alfie grumbled when he stood up from down there.

You were pushed against him then by one of the partygoers who undoubtedly wanted access to the table with all the liquor.

“Oops! Sorry, Alfie!” she giggled then hysterically before bouncing off of someone else and nearly keeling over.

But Alfie didn’t really care about her. He caught you then just in time when you collided with the drunk girl. He held you by the elbow and looked into your eyes with that same expression he had in the elevator; that special blend of forward with brash on the side.

“Listen,” you said, doing everything in your power not to care about two things, specifically—how these dark blue eyes made you feel in that very moment and how bloody revealing your neckline must have been from where he stood. You had a sneaky suspicion, though, that a man like Alfie didn’t particularly mind either of your predicaments.

“I am, luv, yeah. Fully listenin’, aren’t I? I’m good at that sorta thing—”

“I need to speak to him,” you tried to command him again. “Right now.”

“You are.”

“What?”

“You’re doin’ it right now.”

You tried to get away and he let you, but not for long. He took a step forward right after you took one back; a fully choreographed dance that only one of you knew the steps to and one was doing everything in her power not to learn them.

“This isn’t funny.”

“Hm.”

There it was again. That damn smirk. You wanted to strangle him.

“I ain’t tryin’ to be, luv. But if ya want the owner of this place then you’re lookin’ right at him.”

You hit your back against the kitchen counter on the other end and Alfie winced a little, trying to see if you were hurt. He then did just about the last thing you expected him to do and when he finally stepped back and you wrapped the silk robe tighter around you, he turned around. You mistook that for some last shred of decency in the man, but then he held out a beer towards you. Not the strangest kind of peace offering one might encounter at a house party.

“Come on then, Forty A,” he said, his voice strangely low but still perfectly audible—even with the music.

You took the beer, more than a little stunned. You let Alfie open it for you but didn’t react when he clinked his against yours.

“You… You know who I am then?”

“’Course I do.” He took a swig of beer, still watching you closely. “Justice doesn’t happen every day, innit.”

“Justice?”

“’Cause there I was in the elevator, right, mindin’ my own fuckin’ business,” he took a pause to light another cigarette and to your surprise he handed it to you. You took it. “Yeah. And who else should come in but my sworn enemy, wearin’ her fuckin’ jim jams.”

You laughed at the description, because you couldn’t help it. Not when he was using a word like “jim jams”. You were just about fed up with yourself. The mad bastard was growing on you.

“You are the lousiest of neighbours, I hope you know that.” You took a drag on the cigarette then and tried to ignore Alfie’s self-assured expression as he watched you.

“You wanna get out of here?”

“But… It’s your flat.”

“So?”

You scoffed at his undeserved confidence.

“Come now, Forty A, you can trust me.”

“Oh, you just—!”

“Hm?”

“Bugger off!”

But he didn’t. And you did let him lead you to the rooftop of the building and you did let him put his jacket on your shoulders. The rooftop was by all means much quieter than the party, which you preferred, but then you wondered if Alfie took you here to push you to your death or to confess his sins. Confessions didn’t seem to interest you at the moment and fortunately Alfie wasn’t in the mood for murder.

Before you could even begin to question him how he managed to get the key to said rooftop, he kissed you. There was nothing soft about the kiss either, which you very much enjoyed. The scruff of his beard included.

You didn’t want to admit it, but the bastard did read the tension between you just right. And as he deepened the kiss and held you closer, you swore to yourself you’d berate the living daylights out of him as soon as you could.

Maybe as soon as you managed to catch your breath.

Later.

Much later.

For now, you were kissing your absolute arsehole of a neighbour and felt light as a feather in his arms. You grabbed onto his broad shoulders and coaxed one last self-assured smirk out of the man, which you promptly swiped off his face with another kiss.

Part of you hated Alfie still, but another part knew it was only because he knew how to read you. You were nothing but one of your favourite crime novels to the man and the knowledge frustrated you still. But as you two finally separated, you looked into his eyes and this time he let you take a minute. He licked his lips tentatively and didn’t smile or smirk or retort. He looked at you too and for a second you could swear a glimpse of doubt crossed his face.

“Alfie.”

“Hm.”

“You’ll need to promise not to throw any more parties on bloody Tuesdays.”

“Got your attention, didn’t I?”

Ugh!

The insufferable bastard.

But no matter. Two could play this game…

“If you promise…”

“Hmm.”

God damn him and that deep voice of his…

“If you promise, I’ll make sure to occupy your attention otherwise.”

Alfie pressed his lips together to hide his amusement. You tried to wiggle out of the embrace, suddenly back to self-consciousness. He wouldn’t let you.

“Yeah, like what?”

“What?”

“What’s the offer, luv. I ain’t the man to bargain over an empty barrel, right.”

Jesus Christ. Not only did he kiss like a gangster, he talked like one, too.

“I don’t bloody know, Scrabble?”

“Riiight…”

“I’m freezing my arse off, you insufferable bastard!”

“And whose fault is that?”

You raised one eyebrow and implied the answer. He chuckled and kissed you on the forehead as if you were the insufferable one.

“Yeah, alright. I’ll take it.”

You frowned, not trusting him in the slightest.

“Your loss really, sweetheart, ‘cause I’m a beast at Scrabble, right, my vocabulary’s—”

You weren’t exactly holding your breath to know what his vocabulary was. He had given you plenty of samples. You threw your arms around his neck and shut him up with another kiss. Alfie didn’t exactly complain.

Truth be told, you doubted you could even find Scrabble in your mess of a flat. Crime novels took obvious priority on the bookshelves.

“So I’m guessin’ you’re a sore loser,” was the first thing Alfie decided to tell you afterwards, but before you could scoff at him any further he pulled the sides of his jacket around you and buttoned it up to at least shield you somewhat from the cold.

“Come on,” he said then and you closed your mouth mid-insult. “I ain’t that bad once you get to know me, luv, I promise.”

“So you’re worse?”

Alfie laughed at that and it was the genuine kind this time—you had to admit you liked the sound of it.

“Yeah,” he admitted and brushed the flyaway hair from your face. “So how ‘bout it then?”

God damn that man… The moment he let his voice get so low and raspy again, you knew you were a goner—and all the stars above you confirmed it.

[justrainandcoffee]

🐕 + @peakyswritings I have to know what Reb gave Rose!!

Join Rose birthday party!

Reb @peakyswritings is a sweetheart ❤️, for sure her present is something according to her. Cyril is bringing me the gift already opened...

The note says: "Happy birthday, Rose! I hope you have a beautiful day! You know I'm from Italy, so I wanted to give you something that represents my country.

Lots of love, Reb."

But the gift...

Uhm... I bet the Louvre will notice the empty spot on its gallery.

Who could imagine that Reb did that?? But for sure is invaluable... Literal and figurative 🤭.

Thanks, Reb. Promise not to call the police. Alfie for sure will be extremely happy for this he loves antiques... especially if they're expensive af 😌.

[evita-shelby]

A witch and a rose

A second gift for Flor/@raincoffeeandfandoms , it was supposed to be wacky kid shenanigans, but then Eva demanded she be writtwn seriously, and i couldn't get her out of there.

I hope you like it

Cw: mentions of Tommy’s depression and suicidal thoughts

Gif by @hellomadelene

1930

For Allie Solomons’ sixth birthday, Tommy had agreed to arrange ponies and horses for the girls to ride by the beach.

As if the antique dollhouse was not gift enough, he had complained when his witch of a wife asked, no, told him they were going take horses to Margate.

“Diane told Allie about her pony on their playdate, so I thought it would be nice for you to let the poor little girl get a pony ride for her birthday.” Eva answered his unspoken question as she was fond of doing before handing him baby Florence as she made damn sure the older children understood they were to be on their best behavior.

After Tommy shot him, Alfie had lost some of his looks.

What the bullet with his name hadn’t finished, was slowly being taken over by his skin cancer.

Did this horrify his children?

Absolutely not.

Like their mother and father, they had inherited an unnatural fascination with the scary and not so pretty aspects of life.

Five-year-old Diane and four year old Gabriel, in their last playdate, had schemed to touch Uncle Alfie’s face and, even worse, done it.

Tommy had hoped Alfie would have scared them into not doing it again ---Tommy didn’t know enough about his condition to know if it was contagious, he just knew its just something you don’t do--- but he just laughed and let them satisfy their curiosity.

“Why do I have to go. They are all babies.” Eight-year-old Charlie complained as he took his seat behind him.

Been a while since they went anywhere as a family.

Eva tried her best to pry him away from work after Polly’s death and his suicide attempts.

Went as far as using her friendship with Rose Solomons to get him to leave the house and the woods.

“Because we will be staying at Margate for the weekend, it will be fun, Carlitos.” Eva said hoping to get the boy to stop pouting. “Besides they’ll be plenty of boys for you to play with, Allie’s cousins will be there.”

“Will Auntie Florence be there?” Dia asked climbing after her brother.

She likes being in the middle, makes it a fucking pain on long drives because she has the bladder of a hummingbird.

“Yes, but we are calling her Esther when we are there.” He reminded her as he made up a lie as to why they can’t call her by Florence or her birth name, Frida. “So we don’t confuse her with the baby.”

How do you tell your children Auntie Florence was a spy and assassin who changed identities like one changes underwear?

“And for your Aunt Polly’s sake, please don’t touch Uncle Alfie’s face without permission.”

The fact that they get there with no accidents is a miracle in itself.

Sometimes the children’s noises cause Tommy to lose his patience which lead to four crying children or worse, Tommy having an episode.

Tommy had suffered since that night.

Margate will do them good, Eva thinks.

Besides, it would help patch things up between her and Rose after they fought when they last saw each other in London.

Rose had called her a sellout when she saw that Eva and Tommy would be budding up to Mosley and the New Party.

Did Rose wait for Eva to explain what Alfie already knew?

No.

Could Eva not have used her daughter’s sixth birthday to tell her they were spying on the fascists to make sure the party never takes off?

Yes, but chances are Rose Coldwell-Solomons wouldn’t hear her out.

It had been a highly likely friendship, both women had strong opinions, valued freedom and most importantly, did not hesitate to make themselves heard.

Sure, it had been awkward when Eva had a whooping four children while Rose struggled with her infertility, but they had made it through those tentative moments and come out the better for it.

And then they had the worst fight after the kids’ playdate ended.

Rose had not been told that the Shelbys flirting with fascism was a cover. Alfie knew, hence why he had agreed to provide a distraction to have Mosley assassinated last January, but it seems no one had told his wife.

To her they were traitors and the worst sort of people.

They had said things, they had burned the metaphorical bridge they stood on and before she could regain her senses, Rose had ended their friendship and left without ever looking back.

Now she was here with gifts and knowing Florence Solomons had her back should Rose try to toss her out on her ass.

“I am not a child; you can’t bribe me with gifts.” Rose crossed her arms once they had had a moment alone in her kitchen.

They’d come early for this exact reason.

So far so good.

“I know, Rosie. I came to apologize; I should have told you why we are kissing Mosley’s ass after failing to kill him instead of assuming Alfie had told you.” Eva began her apology and thanked the Abrahamic god that Florence had given her the file detailing their mission written by Churchill himself.

“Yeah, you should have instead of cutting me out to make space for Cimme Mosley and her friends.” Rose remarked as she skimmed through the file.

“I’m sorry. Can you ever forgive me for being a pendeja about it?” the witch asked noting Rose’s defenses had lowered enough to soften towards her.

It’s all going to go to hell when she discovers this ruse has to last for the next four years.

Just until they know Mosley is not getting anywhere with his party.

“How long are we to pretend we are enemies?” Rose said getting to the agreement in the final page.

Something was happening in 1934, something bad and this chill only happened when Diane and Tommy were together.

Mosley wanted to hurt Tommy and he would hurt Eva’s little witch too.

“Four years. They are planning something, something awful. I don’t know yet, but I feel it in my bones. I only need four years to figure out what it is so I can stop it and make sure Mosley dies alone and his ideas with him.” Eva confessed to her friend and ally.

“I suppose I can forgive you, it’s for a worthy cause. But the moment you arrive in Margate, this---” she says gesturing to the file “--- stays out of my house.”

“Agreed, we have that rule at home. Been a fucking lifesaver.” The witch admits, breathing easier now that she has her friend back.

“We should return to the party; I want to see Allie’s face when she sees the ponies.” Rose smiled jubilantly; motherhood agreed with her.

It was so good to see her have this happiness so long denied her.

“I want to see Alfie’s when he sees Florence bring out her gift for her sweet little niece. What is your policy on a gold and diamond Star of David for Allie?” the witch asked. Maybe she should tell her about the hand painted illustrated Siddur and matching Torah as well and, oh, the wooden Noah’s Ark that was absolutely perfect, but that would wreck the surprise.

[peakypolly]

Hello! First, happy belated birthday!! Hope you had a beautiful day!! Then, congrats on your milestone!! ❤️

I decided to participate and send you this:

🍹- "It was all in my head" - Send me a character and I'll give you a headcannon about them.

With Alfie, please! Because I love him 😅❤️. Thanks in advance! 😘

Hello Flor darling! Thank you so much for your kind words and for requesting! ☺️❤️

I hope you enjoy these random headcanons i’ve come up with for our lovely Alfie!

Tagged: @shelbydelrey If you want to send an ask to be added to the list!

Random Alfie Solomons Headcanons:

Alfie is a foodie! He will take any opportunity to go out to a nice restaurant and have a good meal

I also see him cooking a lot- he likes to find new recipes and try them out while also sticking to recipes that have been in his family for years! Sometimes he’ll tweak them a little just to see if he can make it his own.

When he does try out new recipes he will always ask the person he trusts the most (you) to taste test it for him! He trusts you to be honest with him and genuinely wants to know what he can do better for next time.

If you love it he gets all excited and giddy, he’ll make it for you whenever you ask- for Alfie, food is the way to his heart!

Modern! Alfie would have a Pinterest board with a bunch of random recipes he would love to make one day (it has well over 300 pins)

Alfie would be interested in Philosophy- I see him contemplating the meaning of life at least once a day! He also believes the best questions are the ones without a true answer.

He can go on for hours honestly and likes to see what others think- but if he sees no logic in their thinking he will go out of his way to make whoever said it feel dumb.

Unless he has a soft spot for them- then he will try to press them to explain further. Particularly on why they think that way- he finds it interesting.

Alfie is a collector- he has an eye for antiques and other nicknacks and after he acquires them he displays them like trophies

His shelves are full of random artifacts he’s collected throughout the years

The more expensive things he has locked up safe- family heirlooms, jewels, historical artifacts he won’t show these to anyone unless he trusts you fully

Modern! Alfie would love romcoms

He would never admit it though

The first time you ask him to watch one with you he would be like:

“Oi! Turn this shit off”

But then once he gets into it he’ll start making little comments about the couple in the movie- like at the climax when the couple gets into an argument or before they realize they love each other

“She’s in love with you, you bloody idiot! I tell you what, yeah? If i were there i’d punch him right in his face until he wakes the hell up!”

He would absolutely cry at the end but he’d excuse himself the bathroom to do it- no way would he be seen crying over a movie.

Alfie loves animals! We know Cyril, but if Alfie saw an animal abandoned out on the street, he’d leave some food for them.

If the animal kept showing up he would have to talk himself out of simply just picking it up and bringing it home.

He would eventually but has to stop after a point because his house is turning into a zoo, he would never leave an animal to suffer however- he would find them a good home if he couldn’t bring them in himself.

[capnmachete]

OC Interview Tag

Great thanks for the tag, @winglesswriter ❤

I'll be answering for George from Ugly Sweaters and Dodgy Oysters

Are you named after anyone?

My father, unfortunately, the treacherous old prat

When was the last time you cried?

Oof. I'm trying to recall. Probably when the old Baron passed away, a little; we were very close when I was a boy

Do you have any kids?

No. Wish I did.

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Who, moi? Perish the thought.

What is the first thing you notice about people?

Their eyes. Not so much their color and that; it's more a matter of how they look at people. It tells you a lot.

What is your eye color?

Greenish-grayish-blueish. I'm sure there's a proper name for it, but I'm not certain what it is.

Any special talents?

I'm still an excellent marksman, although it's not a skill I have much reason to use anymore. Good at restoring antiques, which -- along with appraisals -- is currently paying the bills.

Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings -- I'm an absolute fool for them -- but let's keep that between you and I, shall we?

Where were you born?

Hammersmith.

Do you have any pets?

Three dogs -- Jeeves, a St. Bernard, Woofster, a bulldog, and Fergus, a Yellow Dog of Very Little Brain and Uncertain Provenance.

How tall are you?

Not very LOL Shortish; 5'8"

What was your favorite subject in school?

None of the above. Despised all of it. Wait -- that's not entirely true. I enjoyed English literature class, but only for the actual books; the rest was complete shite.

What is your dream job?

Not sure I have one? I'm fairly fond of what I'm doing already.

No pressure tag for @katwritesshit, @todaysrat, @lexywrite, @bouncydragon, @elskiee, @morganxduinn

@morning-alfie; @x-w1ng, @justhallucinating + OPEN TAG!!!

[maxsroom-jamesbaldwinsversion]

A complete list of pets my family has had.

A black cat with no name. I was three so either she didn't have a name or I forgot it.

Dennis (AKA menace)- A hamster who decided his three-story cage wasn't big enough and that people were the enemy. Almost daily he would escape his cage and instead live in my ANTIQUE wooden doll house. If you tried to remove him, he would remove your fingers.

Purdy - A King Charles terrier who was very pretty. However, do not go near her mouth. Even with food. It is a death sentence. She lived to thirteen and even while deaf and blind she could tell if you were approaching her pearly whites.

Two Springer Spaniels - Jasper Casper and Jim Diamond. Jasper used to run full force into kitchen cabinets chasing shadows. He somehow made it to thirteen. Jim is still going strong.

Charlie - an obese chihuahua (maybe, we're not sure if he was even a dog).

Betty - a little black chihuahua who managed to get pregnant by Finnley (coming up later) when he was 9 MONTHS OLD.

Declan - a racehorse who is too shy to race.

Darby - a chestnut pony who we bought for casual hacking, however, at the slightest sign of freedom he would bolt (with you on him).

Peanut - a shetland/fallabella pony who broke two of my toes.

Woody & Buzz - two guinea pigs who managed to hide so well in their cage that we routinely thought they had escaped (Buzz was later renamed to Fat Nugget).

Jinx - a demon of a cat who asks for attention and then attacks you for the fact she had to ask.

Rosie and Ronnie - cats! Ronnie got run over the same day we let him outside. Rose is still kicking at 14 but habitually brings mice HEADS to our front door.

Colin - a cockatiel whose only talents are wolf-whistling and sitting on Rosie to test her animal instincts.

Kia - a thoroughbred racehorse.

Sooty - a black feral kitten brought home to us by Jim. In his mouth. Completely unharmed. We think he found her in a field?

Shiela - another cockatiel who we got as a friend for Colin. Her only talent is screeching at the top of her lungs when you're trying to relax.

Alfie - an orphaned lamb. He needed to be bottle fed, however, he would headbutt the groin of anyone who tried to do it. He, in fact, chased my stepfather around the orchard trying to get at his groin.

Mario - a tea-cup cockriel who managed to drown in a kiddie pool we had set up for the ducks (the pool was maybe 30cm deep).

Maggie - a duck who got kidnapped.

Shelly & Lucy - sheep who would run away if you tried to interact with them.

Chickens - too many to name but a few notable ones were; sonic (ran everywhere) and Molly (named after my sister because she strut around like she owned the place).

Finnley - a chihuahua who looks and acts more like the illegitimate son of satan himself than a dog.

Boris - son of Betty and Finnley who was born with an underbite, floppy ears that never stood up, and only one testicle.

Edgar - son of Betty and Finnley who lived each day like he wanted it to be his last.

Elvis - the final son of Betty and Finnley who begs to be picked up and then growls like he never wanted it in the first place.

Lucy - an ex-racehorse who, when in jumping competitions, decides she's not done when the course says so, and bolts.

There might have been a few I missed but that's all for now folks.

[julietjardin]

Sheelin Antique Lace Shop Opened in Alfies Antique Centre, Marylebone, London

[ryuzakemo128]

Four Horsemen

Chapter Five: Don't Tell Me The Odds

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Red [Female Reader]

Genre: Modern, sci-fi, fantasy, fluff, mystery

Masterlist: Link

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Trigger Warnings:

Mention of possible mental illness and nightmares

Authors Note: Longer chapter this time around. Sorry for the wait, I hope you like this one. The next one might come out the same day, but that all depends on what happens after doing stuff outside of the house.

[Red's Point of View]

Nightmares of the past and the things I have done in the past, the insomnia crawling over like a cosmic horror threatening to devour what little sanity I had left. Memories of bloodshed and other horrifying things I done, staying up late into the night. Distracting myself with the designs I wanted to in place my house I was building, sleep sung like a siren's call both tempting and alluring. Plans to look over, to distract from the lull of a sleep where night terrors waited for me like a predator lurking in the darkness.

After staring at the plans for the past three and a half hours, she got up and started to get ready for her morning bath, lighting candles smelling of lavender and jasmine, hoping to create a soothing yet calming ambiance to settle back into a lulled sleep. Putting Epsom salts into the hot water to ease my tired muscles, as the bathtub fills up with hot water.

I turned calming sounds of the ocean rushing on the sandy beach and rushing back, and I started to undress, shedding the weight of yesterday. Along with my clothes I was sleeping in from the day before. Tension started to dissipate as I stepped into the bath, the sweet smelling candles and the sounds of the ocean calmed my mind. As if it scared off the horrors of my nightmares and thoughts of yesterday drifted away, like a boat in the ocean.

Warm water embraced my body like a warm hug, soothing my bones and muscled. The bathroom was dimly lit as I haven't replaced the blown out bulb just yet, the flickering flame making shifting shadows against the walls of the bathroom. Almost like they were dancing.

The nightmares were all the same, only the people inside of them change with each one.

"I'm so tired of these nightmares," I said to myself as I sank further into the salty hot water. "I just want to sleep soundly for one night."

I looked over at the clock again, it was already 4:45am, dawn will come in the next five minutes and the day will finally start. After having a bath, I felt warm and relaxed, ready to get back to working on my house. The cellars were in place and the base foundation was complete.

After the walls were put into place, the cottage started to take shape and my vision is coming into reality the more work is done into it. The more work I put into my home the more of my dream home came to life. I wanted to make it perfect, I wanted to make sure it had everything I needed and more. After the structure continue to come together, the more time I spent living in my friend's home and I felt bad about it, despite them being fine with it.

As the details were added, one by one, the crimson red roof tiling, the wooden carvings on the front porch with the rocking chair on the front porch covered by a thick knitted blanket in time for winter's cold breath. The front door had stained glass in the middle of the door, depicting a red rose in the middle.

The windows of the house were done to able to look outside and to make sure no one could look inside, providing both privacy and a view. Interior design a blend of industrial and gothic styles, the exposed brick walls, ornate chandeliers hanging from high ceilings. Furniture mix of both antique and modern pieces.

The polished black wooden flooring throughout the entire cottage, sleek and sophisticated looks. The two skull planters outside the front door with black Baccara Roses inside the two of them. I could finally move into my home as the main parts came together after five months.

[belizedeservesbetter]

A Man of No Importance is Really Important to Me

John Doyle really said “Let me show you how it’s done” 

In an age of musicals where Big Belting and screaming high notes are all the rage, I am so completely thrilled that the smaller and more modest A Man of No Importance gets a chance to shine - and shine it does over in Union Square at Classic Stage Company.

The shows tells the tale of Alfie Byrne (played by Jim Parsons but more on him later) who is a part time bus driver and full time leader of a small amateur theatre troupe in Dublin. Alfie is determined to stage Oscar Wilde’s Salome, despite objections from the church all the while straining against the homophobic society that has held him down for so long. The show is very charming on its surface but packs a real punch as well.

The show really made me remember just how good of a writer Terrence McNally was. The book is absolutely phenomenal. There are so many characters in this show and yet each feels fully realized. Alfie himself is such a wonderful character and his desperation to stage this play and how deeply in love he’s in with his best friend is so gorgeously written. Everything is so subtle and so perfectly heart breaking at just the right moments and really made me remember how good a musical can be. 

Of course the music is excellent, but I was also really blown away by the orchestrations. I know people are hit or miss about John Doyle’s having the actors also play instruments, but it worked so perfectly here. Bruce Coughlin’s orchestrations were so beautiful and brought out so many layers to the already beautiful score. 

Truly, this is a show about art and love and deep love for art and deep love for theatre and being gay and what you cling to when the world you live in won’t let you be who you are or love who you love. 

John Doyle’s direction perfectly highlights all of these themes and his style is so perfectly suited for this show. Stripping the show down to its bare essentials highlighted the raw emotion of the show and the feeling of Alfie being trapped but desperately trying to find his way out. Doyle also staged a lot of scenes in a way that I can only describe as like a near and far effect? It was really lovely and really captured Alfie’s loneliness and how often he is seen as an outsider. 

There was also such a deep theatricality to it that I found so beautiful. Doyle made the show feel like the poems Alfie loves. He created such beautiful stage pictures that will stick with me for a long time. 

Between this, last year’s Assassins and of course The Color Purple, I’m reminded that John Doyle is one of our most iconic directors for a reason. He’s able to get to the heart of the show and put it on full display. He pulls phenomenal performances from his actors and knows how to tell a damn good story.

The set, also designed by Doyle, was also very lovely. It set the whole show in the church basement where St. Imelda’s Players rehearses their plays and it fit Classic Stage Company’s space so perfectly. The back wall was covered in antique mirrors, which was a really lovely touch considering Alfie’s big song in Act One. 

Which of course brings us to the performances, which were all wonderful. Everyone was excellent, with Jim Parsons, Mare Winingham, AJ Shively and Mary Beth Peil being the highlights.

Peil is always a delight, and it was wonderful seeing her play an actress who takes her performance way too seriously. Shively was surprisingly very wonderful, though really I shouldn’t be too surprised as I thought he was great in last season’s Paradise Square as well. His Robbie grounded Parson’s Alfie very well and his “Streets of Dublin” was a highlight. 

Mare Winningham is Mare Winningham, which means of course she was excellent. Alfie and his sister Lilly are the emotional core of the show, and she was absolutely wonderful. 

Jim Parsons was also absolutely wonderful, which is no easy feat considering he is on stage for just about the entirety of the show. It is very clear how important this character is to Parsons, and he fills him with so much heart and so much want. He isn’t the best singer, but it somehow works in the show. Alfie isn’t a great artist, so Parsons doesn’t have to be a great singer. Likewise, where he lacks in singing (and occasionally the Irish accent), he makes up in heart and excellent acting. It was an absolute joy to see him on stage. 

All in all this show is so wonderful! If you’re able, definitely head down to Union Square to see this beautiful gem of a show. 

[wa-royal-tea]

Sofia and Darien who's your favourite child?? Same for Belle and Emery

Sofia: I don’t have a favourite. I love all my children equally.

Darien: Don’t lie. Everyone knows Alfie is your favourite.

Sofia: I’m not lying! I really don’t have a favourite.

Darien: Nuh-uh. I remember you letting him off with a warning when he was a child for breaking that antique you love so much. But then you had Dira grounded when she accidentally did the same thing as Alfie.

Sofia:...what about you? Who’s your favourite?

Darien: I love all my children equally. But if I were to pick a favourite, it will be Dira and Hugo. They’re less of a troublemaker than Alfie is.

Belle: Easy question. My baby Camie is my favourite.

Emery: You answered that wayyy too quick.

Belle: Every parent has a favourite child, Em. Don’t act like you don’t have yours.

Emery:...touché.

Belle: Go on, tell them who’s your favourite.

Emery: My favorite would be Ginny.