#emma garland

[diioonysus]

flower crowns + art

[fictionadventurer]

Potential January Reading:

A Bell for Adano by John Hersey

The Foxhole Victory Tour by Amy Lynn Green

The Long Winter by Laura Ingalls Wilder

Something by Pope Benedict XVI/Joseph Ratzinger

A classic (new-to-me or reread)

[stevesgother]

From Now On (Our Troubles Will Be Miles Away) I S.H

Pairing - Dad!Steve Harrington x Fem!Mom!Reader

WC - 1.5k

Summary - enjoy some christmas stevie with your toddler, and a special announcement… <3

AN - oops! It appears i can’t stop writing steve as a father. y’all can thank mady @skeltn for that one. 

With love- Emma

The soft, staticky sounds of Frank Sinatra’s ‘Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas’ emanate from the thrifted record player in the living room; drifting into the kitchen where you’re rolling cookie dough and wincing as your toddler tries to ‘help’ by adding way too much food coloring into the bowls of frosting.

Over the sounds of nostalgic Christmas tunes, you hear a small crash and the cursing of your husband as he attempts to wrap your eight foot tree in garland.

“You okay, honey?” You shout from where you stand at the counter.

A pause, “Yeah, I’m just–ugh these fuc–”

“Steve!--”

“Fudging lights–” he corrects, “they’re all tangled. I’ve been working at them for, like, twenty minutes,”

“Let me get these cookies in the oven, Ellie and I will come help,” you call back.

More grumbling can be heard echoing from the other room as your daughter, Eleanor, is rummaging through your small container of cookie cutters, eventually giving up and deciding that it would simply be easier to dump all of them out onto the floor.

Her pudgy little hands grab one that's shaped like santa in a sleigh as she declares,

 “I do this one,”

“Do you want mommy’s help or do you got it by yourself?”

She doesn’t respond but clumsily presses the stencil into the floured dough. It comes out a little wonky, but you don’t mind, you aren’t going for perfection. Steve will have eaten them all within the next few hours, anyway.

Speak of the devil, “How are my girls doin’?” he saunters over to you, slightly sweaty from the exertion of decorating the tree and presses a kiss to both yours and Ellie’s cheeks.

When he sees Eleanor’s handiwork, he gasps, “Ellie, baby, these are beautiful!” He fawns over the barely recognizable shapes on the baking sheet like they’re the most magnificent thing he’s ever seen in his whole life.

Ellie can tell he’s pleased with her and starts to giggle with her sticky hands over her mouth. You wisely chose a recipe that didn’t call for eggs, knowing your three-year-old was bound to ingest the raw dough at some point during the process.

Now that Steve’s in the room though, she conveniently decides she’s done helping and motions with her arms for her dad to pick her up. He does so without hesitation, even though she’s covered in frosting and flour, easily lifting her from where she stands in just an oversized tee on a step ladder against the cabinets.

“Let’s go get you cleaned up, huh? Give mommy a break,” he looks pleadingly to you, “Can you please try to untangle the lights while I’m gone?” And how could you say no when he looks so pretty and asks so nicely?

◞◟·̩͙  ͜  ˳꣑୧ ͜  ◞◟·̩͙◟

By the time you’re finally done unraveling and applying a mess of sparkly bulbs and shiny tinsel to your Christmas tree, Ellie comes barreling out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel wrapped around her and Steve hot on her tail. Miniature wet footprints mark a path from the bathroom door all the way to the couch, and it doesn’t take a scientist to figure out who the culprit is.

“Eleanor Rose!” He yells through gritted teeth, solely because he’s fighting a smile.

You laugh boisterously as you watch your grown husband chase after a toddler in an uncomfortable crouched position that looks ridiculous displayed on someone his size. It’s a sight for sore eyes.

“Hey! It’s not funny!” Now his feigned frustration is directed towards you, “Are you just gonna stand there and laugh or are you gonna help me catch this gremlin?!”

As it turns out, he doesn’t need help after all. When Ellie reaches the couch, she realizes she has nowhere left to turn and succumbs to a fit of giggles on the fluffy cushions. She’s red in the face and certainly not dry, but you can’t find it in yourself to be annoyed. Your couch might be a little soggy, your floor might be a little slippery, and Steve might be absolutely exhausted, but you don’t dare dream of your life looking any differently than this.

Steve’s playing Tickle Monster with Ellie when you realize she still needs her pajamas on.

“You wanna get her dressed or shall I?” You ask him over your daughter’s squealing.

“Oh, take her, please,” you can tell he’s teasing though. If you really wanted, Steve would let you lounge in your bathrobe all day– reading Cosmos and drinking iced tea while he took care of Ellie. He’s in his element when he’s spending time with her. Even when you were just silly teenagers in love, you’d never seen him so fulfilled as he is now.

That sentiment is the only reason why you don’t feel wracked with nerves over the news you’re about to deliver him.

◞◟·̩͙  ͜  ˳꣑୧ ͜  ◞◟·̩͙◟

Steve’s putting the last of the ornaments on the tree when Ellie reappears from her bedroom with a huge smile plastered to her face. She careens into his shins and he stumbles a little with the unexpected force.

“Hi, peanut!” He grunts a little when he picks her up. You follow suit, wearing the matching pajamas Steve had picked out at Sears for everyone last weekend.

“Did you get your jammies–?” His eyebrows knit together, puzzled, as he realizes he doesn’t recognize the top she has on as the one he bought for you all to wear tonight.

“Babe, why didn’t you put her in the–”

It's then that he catches the words printed on shirt in bold, pink letters,

‘Big Sister.’

Once the initial confusion passes, his eyes immediately well with tears and his features soften like butter.

“What? He asks in that quiet, wobbly voice you’d only ever heard him use a handful of times.

“Surprise,” you respond timidly with your hands out in an almost-shrug.

He sets Eleanor down as gently as he can while also rushing to your side. He embraces you so tight it nearly knocks the wind out of you. When he lets up, he still doesn’t let you go far as he cups your face in both of his warm hands.

“How long have you known?”

“A week or so,” you shrug.

“Baby, I can’t believe this!” his quiet, shocked demeanor quickly morphs into something more like excited giddiness and he’s practically jumping up and down now.

“Oh my God!” He picks Ellie up and swings her around by her armpits before smacking kisses all over her tiny face. You know she’s still a bit too young to properly comprehend the gravity of the announcement, but she’s just so happy because her dad’s so happy.

“Ellie Bear! Mommy’s having a baby!” He holds her by her torso and gives her a light shake, she just throws her head back and laughs, not a clue what’s got him so worked up. With her belly exposed, he blows a raspberry on the exposed skin.

You make your way back to his side and engulf them both in a hug. Your perfect little family of three, soon to be four, and you couldn’t be more content than you are in this moment.

◞◟·̩͙  ͜  ˳꣑୧ ͜  ◞◟·̩͙◟

Two hours and one Christmas TV special later, Ellie is snuggled tight to Steve’s chest, lost to slumber. It appears Steve’s not too far behind her as his head is rested against the back of the couch– mouth open and slightly snoring– comforted by his own personal weighted blanket.

“Stevie,” you whisper, giving him a gentle shake, “don’t fall asleep,”

“Jus’ resting my eyes, darlin’,”

You scoff, teasing, “Right,”

He looks down at the sleeping child nuzzled into him, and plants a barely there kiss to the crown of her head. He rises slowly, so as not to wake her, and you follow him to her room.

He sets her down atop the frilly pink comforter with a practised ease, she stirs only slightly, and covers her up with a Disney Princess blanket that was previously splayed at the end of the mattress. You take turns giving her featherlight kisses and wishing her ‘sweet dreams’ even though you know she can’t hear you.

You and Steve are hand in hand as you tiptoe out of her room and close the door with a soft click, giggling like children.

Outside her door, he presses a tender kiss to your forehead. Then to each cheek. Then to your mouth.

“I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you,” he whispers back, “more than anything,”

“Wanna call it a night?”

“Can we make out first?”

You gasp in faux disapprovement as you smack a loving hand against his chest and he fakes a wince for dramatic effect. Always the drama queen, your Steve.

“Keep it in your pants, Big Boy,”

“Don’t call me that,” he tries to sound stern and fails.

“You love it,” you smirk.

You squeal when he grabs you behind your knees and hoists you up and over his shoulders.

“Quiet, baby. You’re gonna wake up our baby,” he scolds through a giggle. You pinch his butt in retaliation.

“Okay, that’s it. Off to bed with you,”

The next hour is spent in bed with your best friend– hushed laughs and languid kisses and skin caressing skin before you both drift off into a peaceful sleep; holding each other close like you always have.

divider credit to @/strangergraphics

[gameofthunder66]

'Birdman' (2014)

-watched 2/12/2023- 4 stars- on HBO max

[seesree]

Wolf Pretty 🐺 Mula Nakshatra(Mini Observation)

Mula ASC, Priscilla Presley

This dreadful, tikshna nakshatra tend to possess a wolf-like mysterious beauty which reminiscent us of the moon at night completing cycles while wolf howls

The nose of Mula’s tend to be wider and their noses are generally straight. They tend to manifest very ghostly, intense eyes. Their eyes give off an effect of them not being in touch with the real world but in some other dimension instead. Their eyes are generally bigger in shape, and downturned sometimes hooded. The lips of Mula tend to be long and full but very distinctive (similar to Ashwini). The eyebrows are generally thin.

Edwige Fenech, Mula Sun

Big Gorgeous Dark Eyes with long, full lips with thin brows

Mula Natives; Amy Winehouse(Moon), Priscilla Presley(ASC), Anita Sirene(Sun), Amy Jackson(Moon), Honey Bees Tarot(Moon) A liking for darker shades in their aesthetics and they often have distinct, unique hairstyles/hair.

I forgot to mention Mula’s tend to have dark thick hair just like the other 2 Ketu nakshatras. Ketu Blessings

Mula Natives; Brooke Hogan(Moon), PriscillaPresley(ASC), Honey Bees Tarot(Moon), Naomi Watts(Moon), Emma Watson(Moon), Neve Campbell(Moon), Hoyeon Jung(Moon), Yaya DaCosta(ASC) and Judy Garland(Moon)

Mula Moon, Rosie Huntington Whiteley

[p1325]

My book collection so far

Jane Austen - Pride and Prejudice

Emily Bronte - Wuthering Heights

Louisa May Alcott - Little Women

Charlotte Bronte - Jane Eyre

Jane Austen - Sense and Sensibility

Edith Wharton - The Age Of Innocence

Jane Austen - Emma

Gustave Flaubert - Madame Bovary

Jane Austen - Northanger Abbey

Edith Wharton - The House of Mirth

Jane Austen - Persuasion

Louisa May Alcott - Good Wives

Nathaniel Hawthorne - The Scarlet Letter

Charlotte Bronte - The Professor

Leo Tolstoy - Anna Karenina (Part 1)

Leo Tolstoy - Anna Karenina (Part 2)

Jane Austen - Mansfield Park

Anne Bronte - Agnes Grey

Thomas Hardy - Far from The Madding Crowd

William Makepeace Thackeray - Vanity Fair (Part 1)

William Makepeace Thackeray - Vanity Fair (Part 2)

Pierre-Ambroise-François Choderlos de Laclos - Dangerous Liaisons

Alexandre Dumas fils - The Lady of the Camellias

Henry James - Washington Square

Louisa May Alcott - A Garland For Girls

Henry James - The Portrait of A Lady (Part 1)

Henry James - The Portrait of A Lady (Part 2)

Jane Austen - Lady Susan. The Watson. Sanditon

Anne Brontë - The Tenant of Wildfell Hall

Thomas Hardy - Tess of the D’Urbeville

Edith Wharton - The Mother’s Recompense

Daniel Defoe - Moll Flanders

Henry James - The Wings of the Dove

Edith Wharton - The Customs of the Country

Kate Chopin - The Awakening

Jane Austen - Juvenilia  

George Eliot - Middlemarch (Part 1)

George Eliot - Middlemarch (Part 2)  

George Sand - Nanon

Henry James - The Ambassadors

Elizabeth Gaskell - Cranford

Thomas Hardy - Under The Greenwood Tree

Edith Wharton - Summer

George Sand - Indiana

Henry James - The Bostonians

George Eliot - Silas Marner

Henry James - The Golden Bowl (Part 1)

Henry James - The Golden Bowl (Part 2)  

Edith Wharton - The Twilight Sleep

Emily Eden - The Semi-Attached Couple

Edith Wharton - The Glimpses of the Moon

Mary Elizabeth Braddon - Lady Audley’s Secret

George Eliot - The Mill on the Floss

Elizabeth Gaskell - Mary Barton 

Fanny Burney - Evelina 

George Sand - Little Fadette

Emily Eden - The Semi-detached House

Charlotte Brontë - Shirley I

Charlotte Brontë - Shirley II

Daniel Defoe - Lady Roxana

Theodor Fontane  - Effie Briest 

Edith Wharton - The Cliff

Thomas Hardy - Two on a Tower

Frances Hodgson Burnett - A Lady of Quality

Louisa May Alcott - Moods

Edith Nesbit - The Incomplete Amorist

Frances Trollope - The Widow Barnaby (Part 1)

[reccyls]

Chev's birthday story for this year: Emma wants to throw a surprise party for Chevalier and enlists the help of Clavis, Nokto, and Luke. Emma distracts Chevalier and comes up with an excuse for them to leave his bedroom and the others will sneak in to decorate, and throw a surprise. Since they had all initially protested at the idea, Emma assumes they'd just decorate and then leave, but...

Chevalier's room was normally neat and tidy, but now colorful garlands were hung around everywhere.

My homemade sweets were set up on the table they had prepared, along with some vintage rose wine that Nokto had procured from an acquaintance.

There were some small bottles of honey surrounding the whole thing like it was some sort of demonic ritual.

And then also some... extravagantly colored things that may or may not have been food.

(Looks like they set up everything while Chevalier and I were out.)

(They were able to pull off their parts successfully, so the surprise should be-)

But Chevalier was not looking at the table at all. Instead he was standing in front of his normal desk with his brow furrowed.

And then he reached out his hand and yanked Clavis out of the shadows.

(Huh...?)

(Clavis did say, "We'll leave you two alone afterwards because he'd kill us otherwise", I'm pretty sure...)

I initially suggested that we all celebrate together, but the three of them had refused.

So I thought that they'd all just set up the surprise and then leave...

Clavis: Oi! If you pull on my collar like that I'm going to choke!

Chevalier: Everyone else, come out. Unless you want me to pull you out like this?

Chevalier effortlessly dangled Clavis by the collar. Then slowly, Luke emerged from behind the curtain, and Nokto stepped out from the shadow of a bookshelf.

Nokto: Ah, damn. I did kind of want to see his surprised face.

Luke: We got totally found out. Even though I was doing my best to hide.

Clavis: Urk...

Nokto: Yeah, yeah, all intruders get out, right?

Luke: Too bad, Emma. I thought he'd be a little more excited.

Clavis: ...You guys... Your dear older brother... is being murdered right now...

Nokto: See you, you two have a good time together.

Luke: The honey I brought is really good so enjoy it, all right?

Emma: Okay. Thanks for helping, guys.

Nokto and Luke waved as they left Chevalier's room, and Clavis was thrown out after them.

Clavis: Why... are none of you... helping me.........

Clavis: Hey, you! Don't drag me along like this, be more humane, you-!

[turneradora]

Here is a new press article concerning "Rivals", with the new pic of Aidan as Declan O'Hara !

Thanks to Emma Jones for the written version 🙏🥰 ❤️🌹

EXCLUSIVE The secrets of autumn's biggest bonkbuster Rivals: Why Emily Atack ended up giggling through the sex scenes... and Jilly Cooper's inspiration for the real-life Rupert Campbell-Black

By Sarah Oliver For Weekend Magazine

Published: 06:52 EDT, 4 October 2024 | Updated: 06:54 EDT, 4 October 2024

Hard as it may be to imagine anyone eclipsing the sex appeal of Ross Poldark by being darker, sexier and even better with horses, someone has. Yes, ladies of Great Britain, Rupert Campbell-Black has landed straight from the pages of Jilly Cooper’s 1988 bonkbuster Rivals on your screens here in 2024, and you are all in trouble. A lot of trouble.

Rupert gives the best riding britches and bronzed biceps since Aidan Turner was seen scything topless. He’s hot hot hot, joining the Mile High Club on Concorde and serving up a scorcher playing naked tennis in the sun. Even dressed as Santa come Christmas, he’s the gift that keeps on giving.

So hat tip here to Alex Hassell, whose swarthy looks and CV as a serious Royal Shakespeare Company actor (he was garlanded for his Henry V) don’t immediately suggest him to play a blond-haired, blue-eyed, tabloid headline-hogging love rat. ‘I was slightly concerned at first,’ says Jilly, ‘because my Rupert in the book is blond and blue-eyed, and Alex is very dark-eyed and olive-skinned. But he’s such a good actor.’

From the moment he strides out of the loo having had supersonic sex (he makes Mach 1 at the same time as the plane) with the Daily Scorpion journalist ghosting his memoirs, Alex Hassell owns RCB, as Jilly fans call him. ‘I always believe in laying one’s ghost,’ he sighs as he swaggers back down the aisle, and the millions of women who grew up fancying the rotter know they’re in safe hands.

It wasn’t all plain sailing for Alex though. ‘Some days I’d be quite intimidated because the scene would describe Rupert walking into a room and everybody stops and looks at him and swoons,’ he says. ‘I was nervous about that, but everyone was told to act as if I was Harry Styles, and then my day turned into a wonderful day.’ So what does he think of Rupert? ‘While he is in many ways a s***, he’s not a bad man.’

Rivals is a riot and a romp, faithful to the book but with some sinuous updating to make what was the ultimate 80s tale of wealth, power and corporate backstabbing more nuanced. It is shagtastically good fun and if you’re old enough to have properly enjoyed the 80s, you’ll be drowning in nostalgia for those brash, optimistic champagne-fuelled years.

There are chaps in pinstripes and scarlet braces; women in power suits with root perms and earrings the size of a bin lid. Desk toys have an un-ironic place on boardroom tables and chintz runs amok in the English country house. Everyone is somewhere between slightly tight and completely plastered a lot of the time and can get up to mischief without being found out by their phone. The soundtrack alone will make you cry with longing.

‘We do it lovingly, but as the series goes on we address feminism, racism, sexuality, homophobia and snobbery,’ says showrunner Dominic Treadwell-Collins, who sees Jilly Cooper as a social commentator on a par with Austen or Dickens. ‘Rivals is a raucous party that gets darker. We keep our moments of joy, but the party gets a bit more warped.’

That’s not to say this new Disney+ eight-parter is any less fruity than the book. ‘If you had that copy you borrowed from your friend and it fell open at various pages – we’ve done all those bits,’ he acknowledges.

That classic Cooper sauce is still in there too. ‘How long do you spend on a cock?’ one guest asks Lady Monica Baddingham at a pheasant shoot. ‘Well, generally speaking, I can finish one off in 15 minutes or less, but my hands aren’t as quick as they used to be,’ she replies.

Or when TV technicians prep Rupert for his interview with TV journalist Declan O’Hara (played by Aidan Turner, yes, he of the topless scything). ‘The make-up artist is going to touch you up,’ they tell him. ‘I’d love her to,’ says RCB, ‘but I’m just about to appear on national television.’

There’s lashings of this since we are back in the (imagined) county of Rutshire, deep in the (real) Cotswolds, the setting for Jilly Cooper’s multi-million-selling Rutshire Chronicles series of novels. Riders, the first book, introduced Rupert as he chased Olympic showjumping gold. In Rivals, the second, Rutshire’s commercial TV station Corinium is up for franchise renewal and RCB is again at the heart of the action. ‘In bedroom and boardroom,’ promises Jilly, ‘the fight to capture the Cotswold Crown is on.’

Lord Tony Baddingham is Corinium’s boss. He’s on Concorde too, locking horns with Rupert, now a rising star in the Thatcher government, two of the ‘rivals’ of the title. He is played, with just the right amount of aristo-executive villainy, by David Tennant, persuaded to take the role by his wife, Georgia, also an actor and a huge Jilly Cooper fan.

‘I had my research fellow, who I live with, who could tell me anything I needed to know,’ laughs David, adding his casting caused a frisson at the school gate. ‘It’s a certain generation of women who go a bit giddy at the thought this has become a TV show. I just hope we can meet everybody’s fantasies…’

Well, if those fantasies include seeing Aidan Turner’s bare bottom you can tick that one off the list though he is, unusually for Rutshire, bedding his own wife at the time, rather than someone else’s. Declan O’Hara is Lord Baddingham’s star hire, married to fiery Maud, a man-hungry former actress.

Maud is played by Victoria Smurfit who really, really wanted the role and went full ‘Rutshire’ to get it. ‘I made this big decision where I thought, “Go big or go home.” It was December: freezing cold, ice on the ground, snow coming down through London. And when I arrived at the audition space, I had my coat on, and I walked in to meet the team who were in hats and gloves because it was even cold in the studio. I said, “Hello, I am Maud. You’re all dressed for London in December and – I threw my coat off and had this flimsy dress on underneath – I’m dressed for summer in the Cotswolds, darling!” Going home was quite chilly, I’m not going to lie, but it was worth it.’

In Rivals she specialises in making an entrance: do enjoy the scene with the camel.

As for Aidan Turner, with an absolute whopper of a moustache, Day-Glo yellow socks and a battered old Mini Cooper, he’s more workaholic dad than sex god. ‘That car, it’s got four gears but only three work,’ he groans. ‘The floor has holes in it. I think we maxed at 42mph. It was like driving a go-kart.’

Like all the actors, he knows his Mini isn’t the only bit of Rivals that could have looked clapped out in 2024, if not for the clever screenwriting. ‘I think we’re saying, “These are examples of the problematic behaviour that was acceptable at the time,”’ he reflects. ‘Some of it still does exist, but a lot has changed. It’s interesting to watch a show like ours and think, “We’re still doing that, maybe we should have left it in the 80s.”’

That said, ‘people having sex’, as David Tennant gleefully points out, ‘is timeless’ and all the characters are still aboard a classic Jilly Cooper sexual carousel. Baddingham is having an affair with his brilliant American TV producer Cameron Cook (now a black character), and Rupert is fending off Maud while falling in love with the eldest O’Hara daughter Taggie (played by Sex Education’s Bella Maclean), who’s only 20.

Electronics mogul Freddie Jones (Danny Dyer) and his wife Valerie are the nouveau riche trying to crampon their way up to social acceptance, but Freddie has feelings for novelist Lizzie, whose husband is Corinium’s ghastly news anchor James Vereker. Then there’s disgraced deputy PM Paul Stratton, newly married to his mistress Sarah (Emily Atack), who we first meet playing naked tennis with Rupert.

It’s a legendary Rivals scene (inspired by the tennis court at Jilly’s own house in the Cotswolds) where the tennis ball isn’t the only thing bouncing over the net. ‘The tennis scene was probably one of my favourites,’ says Emily. ‘It was a beautiful sunny day and I’d been exercising, I’d been – I wouldn’t say dieting, I love wine and pasta too much – but I’d been doing my sit-ups and my squats, and I was ready to do this naked scene!’

So it really is Love All, even among Rutshire’s lusty teenagers, for whom ‘I’ve got some Malibu upstairs’ is still a winning pick-up line. And this only takes us to the mid-point of the series: there are four further episodes and a lot more bed-hopping and dastardly boardroom behaviour to come.

It’s hard to overstate the scale, complexity and gleaming polish of the show, with its ensemble cast and Cotswold locations crammed with pale gold mansions, buttercups, bluebells and red phone boxes. (You might recognise 16th-century Chavenage House near Tetbury, which becomes the O’Haras’ home, The Priory, because that too was in Poldark.) There are sweaty horses, bounding hounds and huntsmen in their pinks.

Dinner parties start with pheasant and finish with pavlova, and guests disco dance until it’s time for a Survivors Breakfast. Picnics are enjoyed out the back of a Land Rover – green, what else – and Rupert Campbell-Black is secretly so lonely he shares his bath with his favourite black Labrador, Beaver.

The original book was 720 pages long and they’ve done it proud. Some days, according to Alex Hassell, there were 42 main characters on set at the same time, making it, he thinks, the biggest film unit in Europe.

Vintage Ungaro and Laura Ashley were sourced for the women, 80s-style suits handmade for the men. A safe had to be brought in to stash the 80s watches which are now worth an eye-watering amount. Someone’s mum knitted a bunch of pre-divorce Diana jumpers, Nafessa Williams, who plays Cameron Cook, modelled her ponytail on Sade’s and Danny Dyer drew on his own experience of snobbery as he, a working-class untrained actor, fought to break into theatre.

Emily Atack took to watching reruns of Top Of The Pops in which her own mother, the actress and singer Kate Robbins, appeared, by way of research. Everyone is wearing Wayfarers. Cadbury’s Fruit And Nut still comes in paper and gold foil while Wham!, Roxy Music, ABC and The Communards are on the radio. You can virtually smell the Elnett extra strong hold hairspray, the Drakkar Noir aftershave and the garlic chicken vol au vents warming through in an Aga somewhere.

Like the rest of the cast, Nafessa Williams knew what she was getting into with her sex scenes (Cameron has relationships with first Lord Baddingham and then Rupert). ‘I mean, we all knew what we were coming to do, so there were no surprises. I think it’s a matter of making sure you’re comfortable with each other and you’re listening and asking questions: is it OK to do this? Is it not OK to do that? It is a dance, so you essentially have to practise that dance before going on the dance floor.’

Plus, because Rivals is a bonkbuster – a label which has both supporters and critics among the cast – there was safety in numbers, as Emily Atack explains. ‘When we were doing all these scenes, we flocked to each other to talk about it, and support each other and really big each other up and we laughed about it. They were such a huge part of our bonding as a cast and as friends. It really interested me to see what nudity does to human beings – we were all like giggling teenagers, hugging each other, high-fiving each other, going, “Oh my God! Yes! You did it!”’

That said, they were all rigorously policed by not one but two intimacy co-ordinators, something which would not have happened had Rivals been turned into telly closer to the time the book came out. The intimacy team placed a partially deflated fitness ball between some of the actors so they could rock and create rhythm while having a physical barrier. Others were encouraged to use a tap-in tap-out psychological technique, clapping their hands before a take to signal to themselves they were in character, and then clapping at the call of ‘Cut’ to signal they’re themselves again. ‘We’ve been equal opportunities with sex,’ says Dominic Treadwell-Collins. ‘You will see an awful lot of willies.’

It was the only way to film the lovely, unbridled sort of sex synonymous with Jilly Cooper and the author, now a venerable 87 years old, is characteristically relaxed and happy about the outcome. ‘I trusted Dominic like mad,’ she says, ‘I knew it would be all right!’

A superstar writer since the 60s, made a DBE for services to literature and charity in this year’s New Year Honours, she wasn’t at all bothered when one of the actors, Lara Peake who plays Corinium PA Daysee, failed to recognise her at a read-through. ‘She came over and said, “Oh, you’re the lovely Daysee,”’ Lara recalls. ‘I said, “Yeah, I’m so excited. Who are you playing?” She was like, “No, darling, I’m Jilly…”’

‘Rivals is my favourite novel,’ confirms the author ahead of the series dropping later this month, ‘because I love the characters so much. Even the most ruthless display moments of vulnerability and the shyest show courage and integrity as true love blossoms.’

But can you believe it, RCB almost wasn’t in the book. ‘Originally, I intended to leave out Rupert, my hellraising hero, because in Riders he was cruel both to women and his horses,’ says Jilly. ‘But I missed his glamour and humour.’ She belatedly wrote him back in as a lead, reinforcing his place as one of the most lustworthy men in British fiction.

She says she loves the ‘ruthless glamour’ Alex Hassell brings to her creation, while admiring the greater vulnerability and tenderness the Rivals writers’ room has imagined for RCB today.

His casting has been the subject of heated debate everywhere from Mumsnet to The Tack Room, the online chat area of Horse & Hound. The actor almost withdrew from the first audition because he couldn’t see himself making everyone swoon but, by golly!, to borrow a Jilly Cooperism, he does. So much so he was sad when the shoot was over. ‘No one was looking at me like I’m the most sexy man on the planet any more,’ he says. ‘It was tough.’

Anyway, if you’d like to watch him make your screen melt, are old enough to remember the 80s, or young enough to think it must have been cool to be there, then clear eight hours in your diary because you won’t be able to stop watching Rivals.

But start early or you’ll be late to bed, and that would never do, not in Jilly Cooper’s world.

All episodes of Rivals are exclusively on Disney+ from 18 October.

[idvconfessions]

Anon confession:

“heheheh giggling over some Christmas at the Manor headcanons :3

One of the few times of the year that the Hunters and Survivors will all eat at the same table, even though there may still be games that day.

For the survivors: Emma, Martha, Evelyn, Emily, Lucky Guy, Kreacher, Orpheus, and Edgar DEVOTE themselves to decorating the manor beautifully with garlands, decorated trees, holly, tinsel, candles, and of course art if Edgar doesn't get artblock during the holiday prep fretting. Tracy helps, but she gets lights working and stuff, she's not really good at aesthetic design. Same for Luca, but he's also flitting around the house multitasking when he remembers all the things they have to do. Often, he starts something, forgets it, and then Victor finishes it quietly behind him. Florian WANTS to be part of the decor squad, buuuut he's only allowed to make sure the fireplaces are working properly.

Ada, Emil, Eli, Kurt, Demi, Murro, Mike and William are a cooking squad.

Vera, Aesop, Margie, Patricia, Fiona, and Jose get a lot of the manor cleaned up and making sure there's enough seats for everyone, etc etc. The hospitality squad, one might say. Aesop isn't particularly fond of it, but he likes it better than being in the kitchen or having to make decisions about decorating with which color or something. It's the quieter job to be sure.

Andrew, Melly, Ganji and Charles are the grounds squad. If there's anything that needs to be done in the gardens or out of doors, they're there. Emma likes helping them decorate outside too if possible.

Matthias, Anne, Norton, Naib, Helena, Servais, Qi, Lily, Florian and Richard are the filler squad. Naib, Norton and Qi mostly help the outdoor and cleaning crews, Anne, Richard and Matthias help the decor crew and hospitality crews. Helena is in charge of most of who goes where, aided by Lily and Servais. Florian flits about helping the decor and cooking crew for the most part.

Demi only helps with the decor crew to hang mistletoe over Ada and Emil's seats XD

Gift giving!!

Emma likes to memorize things to make/give that she knows they'll like. For her, Christmas shopping/crafting begins on January 1st.

Kreacher is surprisingly generous on Christmas. It's a special day that gets to him and he can't help but be an exception to his rule. That said, you miiiiight want to check where your gift is sourced from if it's from him.

Qi will make little dolls/plushies with Tracy and Violetta and makes things she silently observes anyone likes. She doesn't ask what people want for Christmas. She'll just make a sewn/crocheted version of something she finds out they like by being a good listener.

VALE is infamous for prank gifts. Luchino too.

Norton gives food. HOw? nobody knows. But if you are his friend, he will give you bread. Naib is similar, but might try to cook whatever he knows you like.

Melly gives honey things. Honey candies, sticks, jars, anything honey, but always with a personal touch directed toward the person she's giving to.

Tracy makes anything she thinks will help the others with her inventions...though it's not particularly personalized, and a bit more things she'd like to have that she gives, the thought is still there.

Demi just makes drinks for all. Alcoholic or mocktails, she makes both.

Lily LOVES making and giving handmade cards. And so does Victor.

That's all I have for now but I'll probably write up some hunter ones later but I do have them :3

Hoping you're having a Merry Christmas, Ms. Ivy!”

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

CS Winter Bingo--Square 4 (caroling): A Match Faked for Christmas, ch. 3

Hi there and happy holiday season!  In an attempt to continue procrastinating my season 4 rewatch drabbles–and to not feel guilty about it–I decided to participate in the CS Winter Bingo event.  I received nine winter/holiday related prompts arranged in a square like a bingo card.  My mission is to make a bingo by writing at least three of my prompts before winter is over, but I’m hoping to do better than that!  I’m hoping to finish all nine!  Given the nature of the event, you can expect a lot of fluff (but then what else would you expect from me, after all?)  I’m hoping to keep them short as well, but I’m usually not nearly as successful at that.  And without further ado, let’s play CS Winter Bingo!

Rating: G

Word count: 1554

Today’s prompt: Fake Dating: Holiday Edition

Other chapters: (1) (2) (3) (5) (6)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma took a deep breath, hesitated for another moment, and then knocked on Killian’s door.  After holiday decorating yesterday, she figured it was her turn to approach him for their next act of romantic subterfuge.

And…well…maybe she had enjoyed the outing to the tree farm, putting up the lights and ornaments and garland, talking and laughing and just enjoying the company of her neighbor.  Maybe they could be friends when all of this was over?  It was good to be friendly with neighbors, wasn’t it?

Yeah, friends, her rather sarcastic inner voice mocked.  You totally just feel friendship for him.  That’s why your heart nearly beat out of your chest when you fell from that ladder and he caught you in his arms.  Nothing more!

Emma felt her cheeks redden, and prayed that if Killian saw it he would just attribute it to the cold wind.

Okay, so maybe he was her hot friend.  She had eyes, didn’t she?  She could appreciate a well-built male specimen.

At that inauspicious moment, the well-built male specimen himself opened the door.

“Why Swan,” he said, “I wasn’t expecting you.  To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Pleasure indeed. Unbidden, images guaranteed to deepen the color on her cheeks to magenta flitted through her mind.

“Uh,” she said, clearing her throat, “I thought I ought to come to your house too.  You know, to keep up appearances.  We are ‘dating’ after all.  Should pretend like we enjoy each other’s company.”

He motioned her in and then shut the door against the cold December wind.  “I do enjoy your company, Swan.”

He said it so simply, so matter-of-factly.  Only the barest hint of the innuendo she knew he was capable of.  It made her heart stutter. Again.

If this fake relationship lasted much longer, she was going to need to see a cardiologist.

“So, what manner of relationship worthy trickery did you have in mind today, love?” he asked after a moment.

She simply shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I’m not good at this.”

“Faking a relationship?”

“A relationship at all,” she said.  “I’m more of a one-nighter type.  I’ve had a couple relationships, and…well, the best thing I can say about them is that they’re over.”

She did not want to talk about Neal or Walsh or the way they’d so utterly messed her up.

He must have sensed her reluctance, because he tactfully moved on.  “Well then, I have a suggestion.”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go caroling!” he said with a big, excited smile.

“Caroling?” she said with a frown. “As in knocking on people’s doors and then singing.  In public?”

“Of course!” he said.  “In the immortal words of Buddy the Elf, the best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear!”

She laughed at that–not merely his words or the fact that he was quoting a silly Christmas movie, but also the exaggerated way he waggled his eyebrows when he said it.  He was an idiot.  He was adorable.

She was in trouble.

“Killian, I have no idea how your voice is,” she said, “but there is a reason I don’t sing in front of anyone else.  Ever.”

“Oh come on!” he wheedled, “you can’t be that bad!  Besides, after we’re done, we can come back here and I’ll make you another mug of hot cocoa.”

“Wait,” she said, “you mean you made the cocoa you brought me?  Like from scratch?”

“Of course!” he answered.  “Nothing to it.  Just heat a little milk, a little cocoa, maybe a dash of vanilla and voila!  Molten sweetness in a mug.  How do you make your cocoa?”

She shrugged. “Tear open a packet of Swiss Miss, dump it in some water, and then nuke it til it’s hot.”

He pulled a face that made her laugh again.  “That’s it, Swan,” he said, “it’s decided.  As your fake boyfriend it is my duty to save you from the perils of powdered cocoa mix.  So what do you say?  A little caroling?  We end up at Mary Margaret’s to make a good show of it, and then back here for cocoa?”

“It’s a fake date,” she said, “but you’re going to have to help me.  I don’t exactly have all the Christmas music memorized.”

“Not a problem, love!” he said, rummaging in one of his cabinets and producing two old, rather faded song books.  “I come prepared for any Christmas related emergency.”

Emma didn’t know what to expect when it came to caroling with Killian, but when they reached the first house and his smooth, almost liquid baritone crooned “Silent night”, her jaw literally dropped.  That voice…like silk did things to her.

He glanced at her when she didn’t join in with him, and caught her gaping.  The slow, sinful wink he shot in her direction, knowing gleam in his eye, did not help matters.

“Why didn’t you tell me you could sing like that?” she asked as they walked away from their first house.

“Like what, love?” he asked with an all too satisfied grin.

“Like….like….” his grin widened at the way she stuttered, and she frowned up at him.  “You know exactly like what!”

He laughed.  “I’m flattered by your eloquent praise,”

She was saved the trouble of making an even bigger fool of herself when Leroy Little opened the door to them, rather impressive scowl on his face.

“What?” he groused.  “My brothers and I are having a holiday party. And you’re interrupting.”

“Just here to spread a little Christmas cheer,” Killian said, and then indicated a page in their song book.

This time Emma joined in on a rousing rendition of “God rest ye merry, gentlemen.”  Behind Leroy, six other men listened attentively and then applauded when the song came to an end.  Leroy, unmoved, merely held his scowl.

“You done?” he asked when the last note died away. “Can we get back to it now?”

“Merry Christmas to you,” Emma called over her shoulder as she and Killian moved toward their next house.

Killian was uncharacteristically silent as they walked, and after a moment Emma looked up at him.  He peered back a delighted grin on his face.  

“What?” she asked.

“Why Swan, you were holding out on me,” he said.  “You led me to believe you could barely carry a tune, but your voice is lovely.”

Her cheeks reddened–again–at the compliment. “Whatever,” she said dismissively.

“No, really!” he said, and despite the slight hint of gentle teasing in his face, she could hear the sincerity below it.  “You have the voice of an ethereal fairy princess.”

She burst into laughter at that ridiculous thought.  “Killian, I don’t think anyone in their right mind would call me that!”

He chuckled.  “An ethereal warrior fairy princess then?  Or, maybe, given the holiday season, an ethereal warrior sugarplum fairy princess?”

She laughed again at his nonsense and playfully shoved him.  He took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm as they continued their carolling.

Half an hour later, Emma was certainly filled with holiday cheer in spite of herself, but she was also more than half frozen.  She breathed a sigh of relief as they made it to the Nolan residence, their last stop before heading back inside.

“You know what would really sell the ruse?” Emma asked as they walked up their matchmaking neighbor’s front porch.

He raised his eyebrows in question.

“A flirtatious rendering of ‘Baby it’s cold outside.’” she said.  

His grin grew wicked. “That is a fantastic idea!  We’ll have her eating out of our hands.”

And if Mary Margaret Nolan’s expression while they sang was any indication, he was absolutely correct.

As for Emma….well, she was convinced the song choice was a very significant miscalculation on her part.  Killian singing Christmas carols about the birth of the newborn king was bad enough, but when he dialed the smolder up to eleven with a song like that, it was a wonder she didn’t spontaneously combust.

When the song came to an end, Mary Margaret and David both applauded enthusiastically, before Mary Margaret invited them in.

“We’ll have to take a rain check,” Killian said smoothly.  “As it happens, Emma and I have a hot cocoa date to get to.  Another time, perhaps.”

The older woman’s eyes gleamed at the information, and she enthusiastically ushered them on their way.  Killian took Emma’s hand and laced their fingers as they walked across the street.  Emma knew the action was all for show. She knew it, but still, she felt a bolt of electricity from their connected hands all the way up to her heart.

This had been a surprisingly enjoyable afternoon.  The fact was, she’d liked spending the time with Killian, liked talking and laughing and simply being with him.

And that thought terrified her.

Physical attraction, she could deal with.  This…connection, this care, this….way her heart fluttered when he looked at her, when he spoke, when he sung to her.   Yeah, this was harder to deal with..  A girl’s stomach didn’t swoop when her friend, smiled at her, did she? 

Emma was beginning to think she was in very serious trouble.

Stepping into Killian’s house, she shrugged it off.  That was post-Christmas ethereal warrior sugarplum fairy princess Emma’s problem.  For now, she’d just enjoy the ride.

NEXT CHAPTER->

[lola-jo]

Mula Nakshatra Female Appearance

The Last One Standing

Mula Chandra (Moon) Beauty (Type 1)

Left to right: Joan Fontaine, Reese Witherspoon, Lea Seydoux, Naomi Watts, Vanessa Williams, Kelis, Kelly McGillis, Alice Faye, Maria Sharapova.

These type 1 beauties: - Are low in contrast. - Are very blended looking (no particular feature stands out). - Have understated (classic) beauty. - Have a slight pointed butt chin. - Have a full oval face. - Are fleshy on the eyelids and mid portion of their face. - Look wise and enlightened. - Have an old soul but youthful/naive aura about them. - Look dreamy. - Cannot be underestimated. Mula Chandra (Moon) Beauty (Type 2)

Left to right: Adele, Amy Winhouse, Judy Garland, Myself, Rose McGowan, Camilla Cabello, Myself (Again), Anais Nin, Patrizia Reggiani.

These type 2 beauties: - Are higher in contrast. - Are magnetic. - Look spiritual/witchy. - Have big bedroom eyes (eyelids/eyebrows droop and look sleepy). - Are transformative. - Have big full lush features on top of sharp but delicate bone structure. - Have 'birdlike' low septum nose. - Have a slightly sharp jawline or pointed butt chin. - Look frozen in time (been through many past lives). - Can manifest. Mula Chandra (Moon) Beauty (Type 3)

Left to right: Emma Roberts, Emma Watson, Keke Palmer, Willow Smith, Jennifer Love-Hewitt, LeAnn Rimes, Taissa Farmiga, Barbara Eden, Hillary Swank. These type 3 beauties: - Have a sharper look (jaw, eyes, lips, nose). - Have a longer oval face. - Look ethereal and dramatic at the same time. - Have a pixie-like beauty. - Are radical but delicate. - Look like they have a rebellious side. - Have intellect beyond this earth and multifaceted talent. - Keep the look natural and are natural beauties. - Can pull off many different looks. - Are contemplative. - Are in tune with their shadow side. - Can stare through your soul. Mula Lagna (Ascendant) Beauty will be up next xxx

[franklycharmed]

TASK: TALENT SHOW

WEDNESDAY EVENING | SEPTEMBER 7, 2005 ♡ THE SPARE ROOM, WOODROW HOUSE

Before, when Frankie hadn't been standing in front of the most accomplished group of people she had ever known with two handles of liquor and sixteen glass teacups lined up as surrogate shot glasses, this really had seemed like a good idea.

But like the hosts of TRL said, probably, the show must go on.

Frankie clapped her hands. "Alrighty! Let's give a round of applause for fencing! You're going to have to show me how to do those moves, Mick." She dropped a wink in her direction. "I think I have a few exes where they could be put to good use."

With a press of the play button on a small CD player resting on a stool at her hip, the dreamy strings and first warbling notes of Judy Garland's Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas started up. Frankie turned back to the tea table before her and picked up a bottle of grenadine, pouring it into a metal shaker.

"So, you all know that Richard was–" her pour slipped, splashing a bit of sticky liquid onto her hand. "Sorry!" she said quickly, shooting an apologetic look at Mrs. Tristan. She took a steadying breath, "You all know Richard is, like, super old. Spiritually, I mean. Old books, old scotch, old movies. TCM's biggest fan."

There was a bucket of crushed ice next to the glasses, and she dumped a large scoop into the shaker with a light laugh. "I remember I tricked him into seeing Clueless with me because I told him we were going to see an Emma adaptation. He was so pissed after, but you know, in his Richard way. Instead of grounding me, he made me read the book."

She grabbed a can opener and affixed it to a can of pineapple juice, chattering all the while. "Anyway, the only old movie we both like is The Wizard of Oz. Which Judy Garland is in, but we don't have a CD for that; I could only find Meet Me in St. Louis so we're listening to that instead." She gestured vaguely as she poured the pineapple juice into shaker as well. "But I feel like it still works."

The vodka bottle was cold against her hand, which was helpful, because Frankie was feeling increasingly hot, particularly behind the eyes. She swallowed thickly as Judy sang about golden days of yore.

"We would watch The Wizard of Oz, and omg he loved to talk about what a technological feat it was, doing the movie in color." One splash of vodka. On second thought, two. "That's why he thinks I liked it so much as a kid."

Grabbing the blue curaçao, she smiled at the room, a fragile, close to shattering thing. "It was the color, but it wasn't because it was cool."

Someday soon, we all will be together–

"It 's because that's how it felt coming to Woodrow House."

–If the fates allow–

"Like everything was black-and-white wherever I was before, and suddenly my life was technicolor."

Blinking quickly, Frankie added the curaçao, topped the shaker with a strainer, and one by one, filled the clear teacups with color. Blue. Green. Yellow. Orange. Red.

Until then, we'll have to muddle through somehow.

For a moment, all Frankie could do was stare down at her work, lips pressed thin, eyes dangerously wet for someone wearing a thick application of mascara.

Then she inhaled sharply and lifted her head with a forced smile, spreading out her hands in a ta-da gesture. "'Somewhere Over the Rainbow Shots'. I thought everyone could use a pick-me-up to make things more fun. That's my talent."

[gracefield-escapees]

@the-al-pals gets a surprise drabble!

Happy holidays! As a gift, please enjoy this little drabble of Alastor and Jemima decorating a christmas tree together ^-^

The twinkling lights and accumulating presents aren't truly new for Jemima. Though the orphanage wasn't a pleasant place to be, the children were allowed to celebrate. The festive season was, in Jemima's opinion, actually the nicest time, if only because so many of her siblings smiled more. There was the promise of a nice meal, and the oldest of them did what they could to find gifts for the younger ones.

She misses them, this year, and wonders in quiet moments how many of them have shelter. But quiet moments are getting harder to find, the closer they get to sinsmas day. The hotel is buzzing with excitement, music and laughter in the air. Jemima has been here for a while, and, slowly, she's getting used to it.

Charlie's excitement makes her think of Emma, Husk's quieter observations and sly half-smiles a little like Ray - just enough to make Jemima privately fond of the bartender. Everyone is nice, at least to her, and yet the little girl finds the group a touch overwhelming. So she sticks close to Alastor, trotting along beside him anytime she's out of her room. Even when she could be even a few small feet away from him, joining in with the festivities.

"Jemima." Charlie had spoken softly when she'd called the imp, offering a sparkly ornament. "Do you want to help decorate the tree?"

It was tempting, but the imp merely shook her head, ducking behind Alastor's leg. No matter how much she usually enjoyed Sinsmas, this year, Jemima isn't feeling up to participating.

It's easy to see. Alastor hasn't missed the way his new charge looks at the lights and decorations, wide eyes full of wonder, and hope, and an edge that looks like longing. He wants her to feel happy here, wants her safe and engaging with the world, even if only the parts of it that exist within this building.

It seems obvious to him that Jemima wants to celebrate, and he isn't about to let her miss out. He tries to encourage her, lets her hold his hand for comfort and suggests all manner of activities he knows the other residents are taking part in where an extra pair of little hands would be welcome. She doesn't relent, sticking to her spot half behind his legs and watching as Sinsmas happens around them rather than with them.

But the radio demon isn't one to give up so easily. There are other approaches he can take here. During the day, there's no shaking his nervous little shadow. But then, if Father Christmas can work overnight to bring joyful surprises, there's nothing stopping Alastor from doing the same.

Once Jemima is tucked up and sleeping soundly, he has the perfect opportunity to get to work. If the celebrations down in the lobby are too much, and he can't get Jemima to go to them, he'll bring sinsmas to her. In the sanctuary of his own room, Alastor conjurs and creates until he has the perfect blend of ordinary, comfortable, and wonderous. A tree still rooted in the ground bears lights, and beside it, open boxes of ornaments; in various shades of red and silver, with some ceramic gingerbread men to add more childlike cheer. Paper garlands hang from the ceiling, small lights draped through them, and over the arm of his chair, by the fireplace, two stockings rest ready to be hung.

All this, he keeps secret through the night, and well into the following morning. Only when the imp is up, dressed, and finishing her breakfast does he give a hint of having done anything.

"Jemima, cheri, there's something I'd like to show you, once you've finished eating."

For a moment, Jemima looks at him with her head tilted to one side, curiousity painting her expression. Then she smiles, spoon raised with the happy intention of finishing swiftly.

"Okay!"

Hand in hand, the pair walk through the corridors of the hotel; Jemima taking three small steps to every one of Alastor's; until they reach the door to his room.

"Here we are." He says. The slight creak of the door as it opens is lost entirely over Jemima's pleased gasp. Were one of her hands not stretched up to grasp his, Alastor gets the sense she might have started clapping from joy. As it is, she winds up - for the first time in days - standing in front of him as her excitement compels her to get a closer look at everything.

Once her roaming eyes have scanned every inch of the room, a hint of confusion creeps in.

"But there's a tree downstairs already." She says, turning her gaze up to Alastor, who crouches to be closer to her level.

"There is indeed. But that is the hotel's tree. This one is yours." The confusion leaves Jemima as quickly as it arrives, her cheerful smile chasing it away as she nods and declares:

"Ours." And Alastor chuckles.

"Ours."

They have to decorate their tree, of course, and it's a true joint effort. Jemima picks the ornaments, one by one, and steps back to find the perfect branch. Once she has, it's up to Alastor to make sure the little imp can reach, lifting her high enough to place each bauble securely. Then comes the star, and while she's in his arms, Jemima hugs him tightly.

She might murmur 'Thank you, Papa' against his shoulder, quiet but meaningly, and Alastor might hold her a little tighter.

He might not let go of her for the rest of the morning. Not as they take time to admire their work on the tree, or as Jemima tells him that his stocking belongs on the left, and hers on the right for reasons she doesn't explain. And certainly not as they settle into the armchair, Jemima happy on his lap, gazing up at the lights with eyes so wide Alastor can see the twinkling reflected in them.

[fragileizywriting]

"papa," emma says, on her tippy-toes because she gets excited when she runs and gets the zoomies and can't exactly stay still as she looks over his desk. adrien looks away from his papers, over to the young girl who has eyes like marinette's and a mischievious little smile like luka's. "can you and i get married?"

adrien does his best. he really does.

"why do you want to get married?" he blurts out, putting down his pen. he's curious. and interested. and anything about emma is more important than these ridiculous briefing notices, anyway.

"cause it's what you do when you love someone."

behind her, her tail is slowly flicking back and forth. she's a cute thing, almost wiggly by inherent nature; she's a playful and joyful little girl, filling the palace with her giggles and laughter the way that it so desperately needs. her and her brothers are a handful, and he loves the ecclectic lifestyle that they all bring, making every day unique and fresh and experimental. right now, she's the epitome of a little princess— he'd dressed her this morning, made sure her stockings weren't ripped, and had made sure to button every single little button on her dress. she's missing the hairband he'd put on her during breakfast, and somehow has replaced it with a glittery hairtie that can only mean marinette found her at some point, because it's shiny like tinsel and reminicent of the garlands they put on their christmas tree yesterday.

adrien tries not to grin. "w-well, yes, but—"

"so, i love you." she shrugs like it's obvious, bringing out her arms in a way to gesture a what are you going to do? that is just so, so like her mother. "marry me."

"you're too young to get married."

"when i'm older, then."

adrien tries not to make a face. oh, she's smart. far too smart for a six year old. "i can't marry you."

oh! her little face! she's absolutely horrified, miffed like her last grape has been eaten by luka without her looking. "what? why not?"

"because," adrien tries, really tries, holding back a snort of the ages. "i'm already married to bampas and mama."

"what's one more?"

"i already married a girl."

emma goes silent for a few seconds, just enough for adrien to think he's won. "stop being married to mama," she says, succinct in her solution. "marry me instead."

here's where adrien breaks and starts to laugh. he picks her up even though she tries to flee from his hands; hoists her up against one of his hips and walks out of the study room. she's brave enough to not hold her arms around his neck anymore, but doesn't pitch a fight and try to wiggle out of it because she knows that if she does, he'll carry her like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. "i can't do that, silly. i love your mom too much."

"but—"

"you gotta marry someone outside the family. that's how that works."

"but why?" she groans. "i don't like anyone that isn't family."

"you have to be friends with them, first."

"aren't you my friend?" she huffs.

they're still making it down the hall. in particular, adrien's following the scent of a particular woman— marinette's coming by, finished with her shower and adrien can smell that perfumed soap coming off of her in beautiful waves, and guides himself to her like a sniffer dog. there she is. absolutely gorgeous. her nose is crinkled in delight, a common habit when she smiles and sees him or luka carrying one of their kids, already affectionately rolling her eyes.

"what's that in your hands?" she teases. "did you catch one of the mice trying to steal food again?"

"mama," emma announces, cutting adrien off before he can even speak. she claps both of her hands over his mouth just to emphasize that she wants to speak. "when i'm older, can you marry me?"

[uncertainwallflower]

Amongst the swollen heads bounced honey-breasted chats, gorging themselves on seeds and singing in their merry way. Their birdsong was lead by a young child, long of hair and light of foot. Her tresses were a bright as flame, and her face so soft and beautiful she could only be a faery’s child. Her lips were sweet with meadow song, softly smiling around the syllables as her nimble fingers worked at a garland of fragrant thorny gorse.

We will hasten, my fair, to the opening glades, The quaintly carv’d seats, and the freshening shades; Where the fairies are chaunting their evening hymns, And in the last sun-beam the sylph lightly swims.

— John Keats, To Emma

...the world existed only for them. The hill’s side was their hillside, the birdsong belonged to them, the hawthorn was their secret, the babbling brook their bower, and the rose blossoms the very symbol of their love.

So fondly I’ll breathe, and so softly I’ll sigh, Thou wilt think that some amorous zephyr is nigh; Ah! no–as I breathe it, I press thy fair knee, And then, thou wilt know that the sigh comes from me.

— John Keats, To Emma