#slate the absolute beloved

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

Wait what was that that Beforus Eridan being Kankri’s culler? What? How? Does that mean that candy red includes aquatic mutations?

Okay, so, this is PURE speculative headcanon and I debated over whether or not I should even say it, but it's pretty fucking hilarious so I figured I'd mention it with the heavy caveat that I made it all up & not to take it seriously, it's just a headcanon I believe because it's a really funny idea to me, and i do not at all consider this "canon" the way some of my other theories are. i hope you also find it funny

So the big difference between Feferi and Meenah's troll society is what "culling" entails; where on Alternia, culling means killing off the weak, orphaned, disabled, and/or lower classes, on Beforus, it means taking care of them. So the characters on Alternia that would've been slated for culling would, on Beforus, actually have lived very cushy lives where a highblood provides for them. It's still another way of enforcing the class divide, so it's still shitty, but I guess it's better than people being killed all the time.

Karkat is one of the most cullable trolls on Alternia for being a mutant not on the hemospectrum, and the only reason he has a symbol and lusus at all is because the Signless's followers prepared them for him. This is why Kankri doesn't seem to have a symbol or lusus, because a situation similar to the Signless never happened on Beforus, and instead, Kankri (and presumably Karkat as well) would've been culled, AKA taken care of by a highblood.

Another part of Kankri's characterization is that he fucking loves sea dwellers - he's actually pretty polite to Meenah, even trying to ingratiate himself to her via nautical references, and desperately, desperately wants to be pale with Cronus. This leads me to infer that Kankri was specifically culled by a sea dweller, and the law of conservation of detail (not a real thing, it's a trope name) leads me to further infer that Kankri was culled by one of our KNOWN sea dwellers, either Feferi or Eridan. And since Feferi was busy managing Meenah, it seems like the task would've fallen onto Eridan.

Now, I have a whole set of headcanons for what Beforus!Eridan was like, but as I tend not to speculate too much on AUs divested too far from canon, I'm only going to note the pertinent details:

Beforus!Eridan was very well-regarded by the population and had the same kind of standing as a major celebrity,

Many hundreds of sweeps ago, Karlkat Marx Karkat Vantas used to be Eridan's freeloader. Their relationship was extremely difficult to classify, and nobody really understood it (many assumed Eridan was culling him, but Eridan vehemently denied this, insisting Karkat just lived on his sofa rent-free and all expenses paid, like this was a normal thing for them to be doing),

Karkat was generally an absolute disaster in the romance department, having a long string of relationships up and down the hemocaste with his trademark Blurry Quadrant Bullshit, always sadly slinking back to Eridan's sofa at the end of his wild, vascillatory flings,

Karkat would write a massive scathing critique of Beforan society, its consumer capitalism, its casteism and classism, its power structure, etc. etc., which Eridan distributed posthumously, because unfortunately Karkat had the lifespan of a lime & passed away long before Eridan was even at the halfway point of his own lifespan,

Eridan was never the same, and while his public persona remained widely beloved, he became an interpersonal disaster in his private life, and Feferi handed him Kankri as a wiggler to cull in the hopes that it would get him out of his funk,

This Did Not Work At All and in fact fucked up a perfectly good wiggler

I mean, honestly, I don't think there exists such a thing as a "bad class," but I do think Princes should not be raising kids.

So Eridan, who, even in the best case scenario, has disastrous social skills and a fucked up sponge, had literally 0 idea what to do with this kid, and pretty much just threw money at it. It was pretty inevitable for Kankri to remind Eridan of Karkat, so most of what few conversations they'd actually have revolved around Karkat, especially Karkat's extremely fucked up romantic affairs, the recounting of which slowly shrivelled the Seer of Blood up like a raisin and made him decide that romance was really, truly not worth it.

At the same time, Kankri craved an emotional bond with his fucked-up adoptive dad, and the spark would sometimes come into Eridan's eyes whenever Kankri started talking about hemocaste equality. The guy who used to live on his couch would say things like that...

But this would also mean that Eridan was alive at the same time as his descendent, Cronus, so I'm pleased to inform you all that he managed to neglect TWO children, both his biokid and his adopted one. Hooray! As Eridan was universally beloved, Cronus always had a lot to live up to, and very little opportunity to be his own person, divorced of his status as a sea dweller or his ancestor's shadow. Hooray!

But the way it comes full circle is this: Canon!Eridan actually outright admits that his typing quirk is fake, calling it "weird" and dropping it when he's trying to be emotionally sincere. Thus, to me, it stands to reason that it's something he would stop using after he has his character development, and he stops caring about how a "sea dweller" is "supposed to" act. We see it happen with the other trolls, losing/changing their quirks to reflect big life events - Aradia dropping her 0s because she's not doomed anymore, Sollux losing his 2's when he loses his li2p. I've been struggling for a while with what Eridan would replace his quirk with after he drops his ww/vvs because it'd be kind of lame if he just had, like, basically nothing.

Also, I lowkey don't really vibe with Karkat ever using the sym69ls in text - he already resented his ancestor, and he'd especially hate the idea of using them after meeting Kankri. Hell, he's pretty reluctant to even type in his blood color even after everybody knows what it is. But then I realized - Eridan is already the guy on the team who dresses up in the colors of his dating partners. What if he replaced his ww/vv quirk with the sym69ls to show his support for Karkat?

Like yeah Karkat would hate it but it would also be literally so funny, and I think Karkat would be secretly comforted by the way Eridan would stubbornly insist that he's doing it FOR KARKAT, and not for the Signless or whatever, he's literally called Signless, that was like his whole thing idiot, this is Kar's symbol, shut the fuck up.

And also, genuinely, one of the things I'm most sad about missing out on was a conversation between Kankri and post-character-development!Eridan, because... can you fucking imagine? Here's Kankri, who actually loves sea dwellers and the caste system, who wants to be pale with Cronus so so so badly, yet is celibate by choice because he's a slut shamer (and in this headcanon, because he heard too many terrible stories about his ancestor's hellish dating life), who uses "social justice" as a cudgel and couches outright contempt for his friends in "polite" mealymouth language about equality...

... And then Eridan "these are my emotional support slurs" Ampora rocks up to the chat.

Even without the culler stuff, it'd be fucking hilarious, right? Eridan's insane and makes a lot of wild assumptions, but he's usually kind of right (he assumes Kanaya doesn't want to c3< him and Vriska because she's in <3 with Vriska, and he's at least right about the latter; he assumes Rose is highborn nobility, and, like, she IS a rich girl). Despite posturing about supporting the caste system, he doesn't actually give a shit about it, and arguing with him is basically a huge waste of time because he doesn't listen to people.

What I'm saying is, Kankri would be like "excellent, another sea dweller to befriend" + "finally, emotional validation from my distant father" & Eridan would immediately call Kankri a slur, ignore his arguments and rebut with something crazy like how "royal-v" is actually a more offensive term than "wader" because the former assumes sea dwellers have such delicate feelings that they can't stand not to have their globes kissed every five seconds, call Kankri a wader, ask Kankri why Kankri is hitting on him (Kankri isn't), proclaim that he and Karkat make out despite being moirails, and then start insisting that Kankri has to stop using his quirk because it's a quirk for Karkat and Karkat doesn't even like Kankri so Kankri doesn't get to use it anymore.

I think Kankri would start crying. Especially because a crowd has gathered and Kankri accidentally calls Eridan "dad" and Eridan is like i Don't know what that is.

Anyway the point that im making is the sym69ls were originally Beforus!Eridan's quirk because that was how he and Karkat used to curl up on the sofa together. 69. All cozy like. And that's where Kankri got them from and he decided to match his whistles to the motif. And after bullying Kankri into not using them anymore and taking them on himself, they go back to being Eridan's quirk. In a beautiful and stupid time loop of karma, the likes of which Homestuck is so fond of. Amen

[arecaceae175]

So I know your autistic Wild (my beloved) has Brenda and Brenda the second for soft friends, does he have any other soft friends?

Do you have any autistic or other neruodivergent head canons for the other Links? (Even if it's just what kinds of things you think they might have for special interests)

OOOOOO wonderful questions!!!!! Authenticity Wild my beloved

He has SO MANY soft friends. I also imagine Flora has a lot too, especially ones with scented things inside- they help her feel grounded when she dissociates or is remembering things related to the Calamity. Their beds in their house (separate beds in the same room on the loft) and their couch are just filled with soft friends. None are as special as the Brenda’s, of course.

I think each culture throughout Hyrule would have a different kind of most common toy and most common stuffed toy. Once everyone figured out how much Wild loves soft friends, they always gifted him one when he helped out the town. Wild loves this so much. The first time it happened he cried from overwhelming emotions of happy and grateful and feeling loved and appreciated.

Other link stuff below :D

I definitely like to imagine all of the Links as neurodivergent. When I have them rotating in my head I like to give them different diagnoses to ✨spice things up✨ and get more diversity in there. Here are the ones I usually give to each Link:

Sky: autism, dyspraxia, dysgraphia, dyslexia

^there is a series I follow of Sky with epilepsy, and I also really love that headcanon

Time: autism, Tourette’s syndrome

Twilight: depression and anxiety disorders

Wind: Down syndrome

Alternatively for Wind: FASD

Wild: autism

Hyrule: ADHD, CPTSD

Four: synesthesia, OCD, sometimes DID

Legend: borderline personality disorder

Warriors: PTSD, anxiety disorder

When I have them as all autistic, here are what I imagine their special interests are:

Time: masks (as a child, not so much anymore), cows, had memorized every dad joke to ever exist

Sky: bugs and birds :). In Skyloft birds was mainly just Loftwings, but then when he discovered all the birds on the surface it became all birds. He single-handedly catalogues and describes all the surface birds.

Warriors: battle strategizing, sewing

Wind: sailing, pirates, also characters from a storybook his Grandma used to read to him and Ayrll every single night (at Wind's insistence)

Wild: cooking, horses, cataloguing plants in the sheikah slate

Legend: magical items, jewelry (jewelry with magical properties are the COOLEST SHIT)

Hyrule: biology/anatomy, and there's a series of books they once found in an abandoned town that they LOVE. Books are hard to come by in their era so those are their absolute most prized possession

Twilight: goats, wolves. He knows every. Single. Fact.

Four: clocks, tools. Four wants collect every tool in existence, and wants to know exactly what it does. Especially blacksmithing tools, bc Four also really likes blacksmithing

[moodymisty]

Stop making me a Mortarion appreciator he's suppose to be gross and icky and not have a decent backstory to only get fucked over by big E

See I'd like something with Perty a bit of self indulgent little thing. What if he had a capable little darling who was also very much into the arts and far more creative vs war exploits but she just was forgetful at times. It's not her fault she focused for 10 hours on her painting! It's a gift for her Perty! Oh sorry just got a little distracted in helping paint some pauldrons... oh what I have something on my face oh that's when I was doing some charcoal art earlier. It's not that she's forgetful she's just all over the place (yes an ADHD coded darling by an ADHD coded asker)

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: I see our brains cross talked, because whenever I write Perty, in my mind his beloved is always an artist. It's how I first imagined it when I first started getting into the Iron Warriors lore.

Also tehe, if I have to get stunk up by the Mortarion simps, so do you.

Summary: Perturabo had gifted you with the honor of painting the murals for one of his new structures, and you get distracted in your own work.

Relationship: Perturabo/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Perturabo's shitass attitude, But other than that nothing

Word Count: 955

It's a bit of an awkward angle, but you make it work as you reach forward to put a little bit more yellow onto the massive mural. It's covering a good portion of the wall at this point, though your planned outline goes far beyond what you've currently begun painted. You would've been more than eager to make it bigger, though the limitations of this particular section of wall was what ended up stopping you.

You rub your cheek briefly against your wrist, and feel the cracking of dried paint on your skin. You don't know when it got there, but you'll wash it off when you're done for the day.

You want this to be absolutely perfect- Not a single failed brushstroke or miscolored paint. Perturabo gifted you this massive blank slate, these canvases, and you want to make sure they are a gift to him in return. So as long as you have the inspiration, you're going to continue. Other than a yawn or two you don't feel tired in the slightest, so you more than think you can continue for the time being.

Washing your brush you take a new color and mix it up, before dipping your brush in. All of these colors were gifts as well; At times you begin to feel almost suffocated in the things given to you from Perturabo. Perhaps he just enjoys seeing something other than war created. Or just keeping you entertained and thus distracted.

You continue painting before you hear footsteps- loud ones- and for a moment you think it's a few stray Iron Warriors whose ceramite boots are clanking particularly loud on the stone floor. The steps continue closer however, until you finally turn at the sound of your name.

It's said with a more than exasperated tone, and you turn to see Perturabo.

"Here you are. I was beginning to wonder if you'd wandered off again."

As a foreigner to Lochos there has unfortunately been a few times where you have wandered a bit too far for his liking, even if it was in the safety of the city's innermost walls. Or even just his fortress itself. Perturabo would never let you out farther; He's always been vocal of his distrust of the Olympians. They might have submitted to him when he ousted Dammekos, but you don't think he will ever grow to trust them.

He doesn't trust his own legion, and only now has he recently even began to trust you. Placing any sort of confidence in you being out without protection is an impossibility for him. While to a degree you might not blame him- there is no shortage of people that would be quite eager to have you in a cage or worse- the feeling of suffocation is at times frustrating.

No longer wandering off into your own thoughts for a moment, you perk upward slightly and nod at him.

"Oh, I'll be done in a minute. I just wanted to finish this section before I went and ate."

Perturabo gives you a confused expression, mixed with his usual irritation. His brow is always furrowed, wrinkled along with the edges of his nose. You sometimes wonder how much younger he'd look if he'd just soften a bit.

"Eat?" He sighs and his head tilts slightly to one side. "It's the dead of night."

You turn around, and look out through the massive glass window panes and see nothing but lights from buildings, and the starry night sky.

You open your mouth and close it for a moment- as if doing a pantomime of a fish.

"Ohhh... I was wondering why it seemed a little darker in here. I saw serfs and assumed they'd snuffed the candles."

Perturabo sighs again, and comes closer to the scaffolding you're using to reach higher parts of the wall. It normally would put you at quite a height advantage over a normal human, but for Perturabo, it puts you at right about head height.

He looks at you with that same steely, frozen gaze as always.

"Come down."

Putting the lid on the container of paint, you put it to the side. You go to take the small ladder down back onto solid ground, but it seems he finds it faster to simply lift you by the ribcage, and plop you onto the ground with little fanfare. You let out a small noise of surprise as even his most gentle grip removes some of the air from your lungs.

It's odd, how sometimes you seem to forget his size, and how he can so easily manhandle you like a toy. He seems conscious of it and avoids doing so, but those instances where he does tend to stick out.

He takes a glance towards the mural you'd currently been working on, as it stands about halfway done. It's the first of many you've planned out; The walls of the temple are covered in charcoal outlines for different ones, but this remains the first one you've begun to bring to life.

He stares at it for a bit longer than you think and the silence almost begins to become a bit uneasy. You can't tell what he's thinking in the slightest, nor do you have a chance to even try before he's done.

Perturabo kneels to face you, and with one thumb roughly rubs your cheekbone. You grumble and wince, paint crumbs falling onto your clothes. Part of you wants to push him away, but you know if you do, he'll never do it again. Once he's done, or perhaps given up on removing the pigment from your skin, the same hand grasps you jaw.

"I will have the serfs make you something to eat."

[rose-of-pollux]

My MFU episode recs

Since everyone else is doing this; as others have said, most episodes are worth seeing, but here are my absolute faves--

The Shark Affair -- probably my favorite episode of all time, Napoleon and Illya are on two separate missions that converge and pit them against a modern-day pirate.

The Project Strigas Affair -- you'll be playing the "Hey, it's that guy!" game all though this ep. Also Illya is in a ridiculous disguise and Napoleon still finds time to flirt with him.

The Fiddlesticks Affair -- SO. MUCH. DRAMA.

The Mad, Mad Tea Party Affair -- so much insanity, plus that lovely shot of Napoleon and Illya in the elevator shaft with their suitjackets off (one of my more notable "I may be ace, but dang" moments).

The Secret Sceptre Affair -- the clips that @justabigoldnerd has been posting should tell you all you need to know about this ep.

The Never-Never Affair -- what do you get when you take Napoleon and Illya and add in Agent 99, the Joker, and Mr. Slate from The Flintstones? This ep.

The Love Affair -- Eddie Albert plays a convincing villain and invokes Napoleon's wrath when it appears he's killed Illya. Also Madame Leota/Maleficent (Eleanor Audley) has a cameo

The Gazebo in the Maze Affair -- Napoleon embarks on a quest save his beloved Illya from a vengeful squire... with mixed results, but that's why we love this show.

Alexander the Greater Affair 1&2 -- there's a lot going on here, but that's what makes it great

The Foxes and Hounds Affair -- Robert Vaughn, David McCallum, AND Vincent Price all in the same room together--need I say more?

The Virtue Affair -- more mutual lifesaving with a ton of drama

The Bat Cave Affair -- ...there's a lot going on here, just watch it 😆

The Pop Art Affair -- modern art and killer foam

The Off-Broadway Affair -- yet another "Hey, it's that guy/gal!" episode, ft Lamb Chop, Scrappy-Doo, and General Burkhalter all in the same room with Napoleon and Illya. Also the closest MFU gets to a musical episode. ALSO more mutual lifesaving and, somehow, Napoleon and Illya still find time to have a date in a Turkish bath.

The Suburbia Affair -- very little I can add to what others have said about this ep, other than this: I am convinced that the overdubbed "Mother" at Illya that Robert Vaughn was forced to do was covering up a "Dear" that the censors refused to let air. In my heart, it was "Dear." Kudos to Robert for making it so obvious it was an overdub; it's like he knew what the fans wanted.

The Matterhorn Affair -- Yes, it's mostly ridiculous, but Napoleon and Illya's ice-cream date at the end makes it worth it

The Hot Number Affair -- we get this, enough said:

The Summit-Five Affair -- ANGST and a beautiful showcasing of Illya's undying loyalty to Napoleon.

The 'J' for Judas Affair -- this is an interesting one, a sort of look into what happens when the duo initially fails a mission and then have to pick up the pieces.

The Prince of Darkness Affair 1 & 2 -- ft. a new evil organization, Napoleon in disguise, and Illya finding Napoleon's disguise more attractive than he expected

The Deadly Quest Affair -- more undying loyalty!

The Gurnius Affair -- there's A LOT going on here

The Maze Affair -- More angst! More devotion!

The Deep Six Affair -- You gotta watch it for the ending. You gotta.

[ot3]

i feel like my particular eternal disappointment with and resulting hatred of mostly blank slate PC + NPC relationship tracks (platonic or romantic) has soured me on a lot of the most beloved narrative video games in pop culture. i really don't think it's possible to do storytelling that way that's any better than, at its absolute best, functional.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Happy Hanukkah-Mas! - A Beth and Alfie Solomons One Shot Story.

They're baaaack! I absolutely adored returning to their world for a little one-off treat, guys, and hope you all love catching up with them again, too. Enjoy :)

Words - 7,478

Warnings - Fluff and smut, lots of it! Minors DNI!

There is much as a mother that I feel my arm in perpetual twist over, my emotions stirred by the large, slate blue eyes of my son, Abe and my daughter, Flora. They truly do know how to get around their father and I with such insufferably effective cuteness. The celebration of Christmas in our Jewish household is just one of those arm twisting, big, cute eye pleading moments that I speak of. 

Although my husband and I are very liberal in our faith, not anywhere as stalwart in our Jewishness as generations gone by (heck, even my beloved bubbe has a tiny Christmas tree and Father Christmas themed decorations!) we do enjoy observing the traditions of Hanukkah, especially passing this onto our children. We light the menorah and recite our blessings before taking to the kitchen and getting into a god-almighty mess while preparing the latkes and jellied doughnuts.  

Let it be known here that Bethany Solomons and deep frying do not exactly go hand in hand.  

Up until their respective ages of five and two, the children seemed perfectly content to revel in our deep frying, dreidel playing, menorah lighting and song singing traditions. That was until these tiny souls began noticing the traditions of their friends slightly differed from ours. Suddenly, there was talk of turkey and tinsel, of baubles and a large, fresh scented tree. Father Christmas was a name that began to be spoken more freely.  

In fact, it was Flora who changed the tides there while scrambling onto her daddy’s lap one evening when she was two, tiny hands fiddling with his beard as she went through her nightly routine of ‘let’s ask daddy as many questions as humanely possible’ where one particularly struck my husband in a direct hit to the heartstrings.  

“Daddy, Father Christmas doesn’t come to our house. Is that because we’re bad children? We’re on the naughty list, aren’t we?” 

To watch him sit there, his eyes glassing as he tried not to allow for his emotions to be so heavily stirred by our youngest was something I could not endure without shoving my nose into a nearby magazine in order to hide my own tears.  

“Nah, my little peach,” he’d eventually offered, after swallowing a lump in his throat he likened to the size of Cyril, our beloved sixty-kilogram bullmastiff. “It’s just that we believe different traditions, innit? You’re only on the naughty list when you’re running around here covered in chocolate and refusing to get in the bath, ain’t ya?” 

He’d then tickled her into submission, or so he’d thought. Flora, just like the man whose lap she was sat upon at the time, is nothing short of persistent in the pursuit of achieving an end goal. After Abe had returned home from his karate class, he too joined in.  

Never let it be said that my offspring cannot work as an effective emotional tag team. Our first Christmas tree was purchased the following afternoon. Cyril duly lifted his leg to it. Alfie was incensed. The children scream laughed. All was well, if not a little soggy.  

Happy Hanukkah-Mas, everyone! 

Taking a pause from typing, Beth reached for her wine, the kitchen quiet and fresh smelling after her efforts in deep cleaning had left everywhere sparkling. It was that time of year again, where the Solomons clan began their dual holiday festivities, the nine days of their Hanukkah coming to a close, ready to pave the way for all things Christmas. 

“No peeing up the tree this year, matey.” she spoke, her hand reaching for the soft crinkles of Cyril’s muzzle, her faithful old companion sniffing her fingers as she offered him fuss. She could barely believe he was twelve, an age almost unheard of for a bullmastiff to reach.  

The giant dog now lived a much more leisurely pace, long walks replaced now by a little trot around the block, the dog returning to lie himself in the middle of the welcome hall and huff about it for a good ten minutes before he’d wander off, usually in search of the children.  

If Cyril’s heart beat for anything other than a good marrow bone from the butchers, it was Abe and Flora. Beth honestly feared for the day they would come to lose him, knowing the devastation that would befall the family to be bereft of their longtime canine companion. He was more than that to them, though.  

Cyril Solomons always was, and always would be their first child. 

“Where’s your dad?” she asked, the dog’s ears pricking as he heaved himself up, ambling out of the kitchen and down to the office, Beth pushing the glass door open.  

“Evening, baby beast.” No, Alfie had never ceased use of the same pet name for her that he’d coined nine years previously, back when they’d first gotten together. “How’s the article going? Nearly done, yeah?” 

She half shrugged with a hum. “About halfway through. I’m bloody knackered, though, so I’ve come to steal you. My tummy is rumbling.” Moving around the desk, she placed her wine down, seating herself in his lap. “What’s with these? These Solomons crinkles you have going on here?” 

Her finger was playfully batted away, her hulking bear of a husband laughing gruffly. “You and your bloody cheek,” he began, kissing her head. “Them lines are the Abe and Flora crinkles these days, them and their fuckin’ demands. Look at this ‘ere, right. She can’t just want the doll you can go to Smyths and buy, can she, your daughter. Nah, gotta want the fuckin’ Rolls bleedin’ Royce of dolls that daddy ‘ere can’t pissing find in stock!” 

He had a penchant for that. When the kids were good, they were their children. When they were causing him mild to moderate strife, they were solely Beth’s.  

Looking at the screen, she shook her head, reaching for the mousse and closing the browser window. “I found it already, it’s on the way from a store in New York. DHL have assured me it’ll arrive by the eighteenth.”  

“Well then why didn’t you fuckin’ tell me, Bethany with the lovely legs? Lovely legs that are gonna catch a right walloping. Sitting here for hours, I’ve been, looking for that fuckin’ doll!” 

“I did!” she exclaimed, slapping his hand as he began laying smacks against her thigh. 

“Fuckin’ lies!” 

Leaning in close, she widened her doe eyes, her nose touching his. “I bloody did! Magda will back me up, she was standing right next to me when I told you.” 

Her playful growl was met by muttering and grumbling. “Moody sod.” 

“Yeah, but you love me, treacle,” he chirped, Beth leaning to kiss his cheek.  

“That I do. Now, come on. I meant it when I said my tummy was rumbling, so you need to emerge.” Picking up her wine, she slid back to her feet, Alfie wheeling his chair closer to the desk once more.  

“I’ve just got one email I need to...” 

“Alfie,” she warned. 

“Five minutes, darlin’. You go order the food. Get us a chicken madras, a keema naan and all the dippy stuff with the poppadom's. Go on, go be a crackin’ wife and order in all the nosh that’ll have me farting like bagpipes for the next day or so.” 

She threw her head back, her laugh loud. “Five minutes, or I deliberately wake Abe and get him to come in and ask you all about where babies come from.” 

“You bloody dare,” he warned, Beth leaning back around the office door. 

“Don’t try me, boo.” Poking her tongue out, she giggled, heading back into the kitchen and taking a seat once more, putting in their order with the Royal Bengal before tapping away a little more of her article. She’d just closed her laptop when Alfie joined her, pulling a bottle of San Pelegrino from the fridge and splashing it into a glass, adding ice while telling her about his working day.  

Since becoming a father, he’d done what nobody expected and actually relinquished a little control over his empire, allowing those he employed to get stuck in with the lion’s share of the day-to-day operations, in order to be present for his children. Losing his own father so young had made him realise just what he’d missed growing up, now he had little ones of his own.  

The kitchen was soon filled with the aromas of India, Beth adding everything to bowls, Alfie hindering her every step of the way, and Cyril hopeful that a few morsels might be dropped upon the floor.  

“It’s nice to be able to have a bowl of samosas out and not have to fight off tiny hands for them,” she mused, picking one up and dunking it into the mint dip.  

“And then only half eating them, storing the fuckin’ things away behind cushions and in shoes an’ all that,” Alfie spoke through a mouthful of poppadom, shaking his head. “Them bloody kids. Wouldn’t have ‘em any other way, though.” 

Neither would she. They were loud and boisterous, but that came with the territory. Seven and four years old meant a perpetual state of noisy. Those noisy states were out of the front door at nine the following morning, both off to their bubbe Solomon’s house for the morning. Beth dropped them with Sarra at just gone half past, leaving her to fight the traffic to head over to Primrose Hill, her breakfast date already there waiting for her.  

“Oh babe!” she cried, opening her arms to Mimi as she rose from the table. “I thought you were bringing the baby? Aww, I was looking forward to a little smush!” 

“No, she barely slept all night, so I’ve left her with Josh and a tonne of expressed milk. Bloody boobs are so sore, and I thought having implants was bad!” Kissing her cheek, Mimi then gestured to the table, a latte waiting for her. “Thought I’d order that in for you. I might be a knackered new mummy, but at least I remembered my erm...” she trailed off, winding her hand around as she thought on the word. “I always want to say my Antoinette, but she was a queen.” 

“Etiquette?” Beth offered, Mimi snapping her fingers. 

“That’s it!” 

Some things never changed.  

“So, how have you been, other than tired with sore boobs? I bloody remember that only too well, Mims,” she spoke, picking up her latte and giving it a cautionary blow before taking her first sip. Ahhh, a double shot. Heaven. How well her beloved Mims knew her.  

“I’ve been alright, you know,” she began, perusing the menu before her. “I mean, a woman can function perfectly well on ten minutes of sleep a night, can’t she?”  

“And if she can’t she gets used to it pretty flipping quick,” Beth quipped, making her decision over breakfast quickly. Pancakes with turkey bacon and eggs. She was famished. “How did your check-up go? Are all the sore bits healing nicely?” 

Both women had suffered quite badly during childbirth, Beth’s experience with Abe something so terrible, she very nearly elected a C-Section for Flora. Her midwife had advised her against such, though, stating a natural birth would be much better when she was fully fit and capable. Flora had been a blessing, thankfully, a speed birth of half an hour in active labour, her little girl out in six pushes.  

Mimi nodded as she sipped her orange juice, setting the tall glass back down. “Everything is healing as it should be, and I should be fine to ride again soon!” She’d kept her beloved horses, Bryn and Sunny, thinking at first that she would put them out on loan for a time to someone with enough of that very commodity to devote to them. That was until her darling friends had stepped in to help, Beth and Kinga appointing themselves as exercisers of Mimi’s four-legged friends.  

Being a much more skilled horsewoman than she had been nine years before upon first meeting Mimi, Bryn and all of his naughtiness was appointed to her, Kinga more novice and being tasked with Sunny’s exercise. They went most days in the afternoon, the people at the stables where they were kept taking on their day-to-day care.  

It was one of Beth’s favourite parts of the day, riding out over the fields after lunch aboard Bryn, or working him over eye wateringly huge fences in the arena, the likes of which she once never thought she’d have the bravery to attempt. 

Mimi had taught her well.  

“Oh, before I forget, give these to Magda before she raises merry hell with me,” Mimi then spoke, picking up a bag from her feet and passing it across to Beth. “She loaned me these for Josh’s office Christmas do. It was such a nice night, made even better for wearing a pair of this season’s Louis Vuitton’s on my feet!” 

Yes, Magda would indeed raise merry hell if any loans from her beloved wardrobe department were not returned promptly. Beth took the bag with a smile, placing it down beside her favourite bag of all time beneath the table, the dark blue Birkin Alfie had bought her all those years ago. She still had to shake her head in wonder sometimes, being a woman of such staggering wealth because of whom she was married to.  

Her world had blended with Alfie’s so effortlessly, it often felt like a dream to her still. There she was, with one of the women he’d once dated, Mimi now a married mother herself and long fully integrated within Beth’s friendship group as well as still being – as Alfie always worded it - ‘the bestest mate a fella could ask for.’ After Josh and her mum, Alfie had been the first she’d called upon finding out she was pregnant with her now eight-week-old daughter, Alissia.  

“How did you cope, being away from Liss for a few hours?” she asked with a smile.  

Mimi looked pained immediately. “I hated it! I missed her so much, and I know she was perfectly fine with Josh’s mum, but it didn’t feel right, not having a little bundle in my arms!”  

She remembered it well with Abe, becoming very emotional on her first night out with Alfie after he’d been born, being left in the care of his godparents, Magda and Dennis. Magda had switched her phone off in the end, Beth had called so incessantly to make sure he was okay. ‘You’ll bloody wake the little fella if you keep on calling me! He's fast asleep on Dennis’s chest, just threw up a load of milk all over the dog an’ all. Having a wail of time, he is!’ she remembered being assured.  

Moving their discussion on, both pledging they would never be the kind of women who couldn’t form conversation over anything other than their children, they sat and spoke about all sorts while catching up, Beth’s most recent articles, Mimi’s tentative plans to begin her own accounting business so that she could circumvent a return to office life and instead, work from home and be with her baby. With Josh earning so well now within the publishing world, her return to work truly didn’t need to be expedited quickly either.  

After breakfast, they made time to pamper themselves with a little salon treat, Mimi having a much-needed deep cleansing facial while Beth opted for a massage, wanting to be nice and relaxed for what would likely turn into a chaotic afternoon. It was Christmas tree shopping day, meaning that her children would go from their usual volume of eight right up to eight thousand, such was their excitement at the fairly new tradition.  

“Oi! Abraham Solomons, I see you back there, winding your sister up!” Alfie shouted, looking in the rearview mirror of his Range Rover two hours later, en route from his mother’s house to the garden centre.  

“She’s kicking me, dad!” 

“She can’t even reach you over there, mate. Nah, don’t you tell me no fibs, or this car gets turned around, right?”  

“But dad!” 

“Enough, my son!” 

Abe shrank down in his car seat with a scowl that was a hundred percent his father, Beth turning to give him a warning look that eventually turned into a smile. The Solomons crinkles were very much a hereditary thing. “Be a good boy.” she cooed, grabbing his foot and giving it a shake. Flora was asleep after ten minutes, Abe entertaining himself by narrating a commentary about the people they drove past in the streets, pulling up outside Birchen Grove Garden Centre after twenty minutes.  

“Come on, Flora snorer,” Alfie chimed, rousing his sleepy youngest. The noises that came from that child while she was sleeping. Beth had nearly haemorrhaged from laughter when he’d likened the sounds to ‘that geezer from the Police Academy films’ back when she was a baby. “Come on, my little peach. Let’s look lively, yeah?” 

“No daddy, I want naps!” she protested, Beth being dragged to examine a display of Christmas wreaths by a much spritelier Abe. 

“Child, you’d sleep your life away if we left ya to it. Come on, daddy’ll play pack horse and carry ya.”  

“Okay.” Immediately she reached for him, beaming as she buried her face against his neck. He gave it all of three minutes, the shiny bright of the garden centre’s Christmas displays delighting her eyes so much, she was scrambling to the floor and running off with her brother.  

“Breakage expenditures guesstimate?” Beth quipped, raising an eyebrow as they ran for a display in excited frenzy.  

“Bloody zero!” he bellowed, making a lady walking past him jump. “Go on, get over there and round up ya kids, duchess. I’ll go sort the tree.”  

She rolled her eyes. “Always my kids when they’re being disruptive.” She strode off, not before Alfie aimed a perfect smack to her bum, calling her little ones away from the glass baubles and trinkets, grabbing a basket on her way. She sensed more ornaments would be chosen, and she wasn’t wrong. At least they kept on brand with the theme of green, blue and silver, though.  

“Abraham!” Alfie barked, appearing with a Christmas tree over his shoulder a short time later, finding his son meddling with the nativity display. “Put the false prophet down, son.”  

Beth cringed, shielding her eyes for a moment beneath her hand as her husband drew disapproving stares, Abe unceremoniously returning to the baby Jesus doll back into the manger with all the passion of LeBron James performing a slam dunk.  

“Do you have to be so vociferously Jewish in your denouncing of the Christian lord and saviour?” she hissed, Alfie beaming. 

“Yeah, darlin’,” he laughed, scratching his beard with his free hand. “I bloody do!” 

Herding the children in the direction of the sales desk, she offered appeasing smiles to those offended by her husband and his boom. “Oy fucking vey.” 

Once the tree had been affixed to the roof, the children and purchases packed away, the family Solomons headed to lunch, the little ones making their demands known for a trip to Five Guys. Burgers often worked very well in placation, especially since Beth had designs on dragging her family to do a little bit of shopping afterwards. Kids with full tummies were often slowed down a tad by the weight of their meal.  

While Alfie was having his ear and wallet bended by two very enthusiastic children at the Hotel Chocolat shop, Beth moved down through the shopping mall a little, coming to a small nostalgia store. Since celebrating Christmas was mostly for the children’s benefit, she and Alfie didn’t exchange gifts for one another, but what she saw in the window swiftly negated that.  

“I’ll take them both, please.” she spoke to the sales assistant, hardly able to keep her giggles in as she watched him retrieve the two Ren and Stimpy plush toys from the window display. She would never forget how hard she had laughed all those years ago, when she and Alfie had gotten stoned together one evening, back when the lines between journalist and subject were becoming blurred.  

“Do you mean Ren, as in Ren and Stimpy?” 

“Yeah, the little angry weasel, or whatever he was.” 

The little angry weasel. The memory still brought her the same feelings of hilarity as they’d shared out in the garden of their home, when they were just beginning to fall for one another. She remembered it well, how she’d sat there with him, smoking weed while inwardly lamenting how unfair it was, to have met her perfect person, but with a very imperfect set of terms and conditions that went hand in hand with dating him.  

She couldn’t imagine her life now, should Alfie not have changed his mind. It often made her feel a pit in her stomach, if she thought on it for too long, being driven out of his life in that Uber, Alfie remaining with someone as deadly as Amira had proved herself to eventually be. Thankfully, the unhinged woman who had almost killed her remained languishing within a prison cell to that day.  

Yes, Beth kept tabs on her, just in case she had qualified for parole ahead of the recommended ten years post-sentencing. She couldn’t not now she was a mother, something within not trusting that her long custodial sentence would change her feelings towards her; or pose a risk to the safety of her children upon her release.  

Shaking the less warming thoughts of their past from her mind, she paid for her purchase and left the shop, popping into the Elemis store quickly to repurchase her skincare goodies, before she was met by her husband and two chocolate wielding children.  

The drive home was uneventful, the kids once again on excited mode as soon as they stepped foot into the house, hurling themselves at the many boxes Beth had brought up from the wine cellar the night before containing the Christmas decorations. With the tree placed into the stand, protective netting cut and two shrieking children armed with ornaments, Alfie stood back and watched the scene for a few moments, grinning adoringly at his little family.  

“Let me go and get a few work things done so I ain’t worrying about ‘em all weekend,” he spoke, giving her a little nod. “I’ll fetch you a Merlot on me way back, duchess.” She turned to blow him a kiss before he left the lounge, his grin still firmly in place as he headed down to the office, playing catch up on a few pressing demands on his time for half an hour. 

He then headed to the kitchen, preparing himself a coffee and sorting Cyril’s dinner once he got there. 4:47pm on a Saturday. That time nine years ago would usually mean the house was full of the hustle and bustle of various women getting ready, him returning from a leisurely dog walk and doing a quick bit of business prior to taking his three girlfriends’ out to somewhere fancy. 

How things had changed, and all for the better. 

On that particular Saturday evening, they were playing gracious hosts to Magda and Dennis, their friends coming over for dinner in a few hours, Alfie lifting the lid on the crockpot and giving the beef Bourguignon that had been slow cooking all day a good stir. Nobody cooked like his mother, but bloody hell, Beth gave her a run for her money.  

Furnished with a coffee, he took the large glass of wine through, handing it to his wife with a kiss. “You’ve done a cracking job with that, as usual.” Nodding toward the Christmas tree, he smiled, Beth leaning back into his embrace as Abe flicked the socket, all the warm white lights twinkling into glittered life.  

He might have complained, but beneath the layers of outward distain, he secretly loved Christmas just as much as he did Hanukkah. The joy it brought to his children was immeasurable, and for them, he would move the earth. Putting up a tree, buying gifts and having a nice turkey roast were small by comparison.  

After the decorations had been carefully laid out, Beth placing winter spice wax melts into the burners dotted around the home and running the vacuum around, the kids made their demands for dinner, Alfie sorting them with their request for fish fingers while Beth went to put the clean laundry away and run herself a bath.  

By the time she was done, she refilled the tub for the children, drying her hair while Alfie put himself on bathtime duty.  

“Daddy, look! You’re Father Christmas now!” Flora chirped, giggling as she covered his beard in a barrage of bubbles from the tub.  

“Nah, I ain’t! I’m not that old, and me belly ain’t that big either!”  

She was quick in her cheekily delivered comeback. “Yeah, it is.” 

“Oi!” he growled, picking up the small bucket bath toy and emptying it over her head. “Less of that, or I’m phoning Father Christmas and telling him not to drop by here on Christmas Eve, right?” 

Flora was aghast, Abe tittering to himself. “You wouldn’t, daddy!” 

“Yeah?” he spoke, reaching for the kid’s shampoo. “I do a hundred sit ups a day to make sure I ain’t got no Father Christmas belly, so you’ll cast your aspersions elsewhere, you hear me?”  

“Daddy, daddy,” she began, Alfie beginning to lather her hair. “Are aspersions what mummy makes with the cheese and butter?” 

He and Beth snorted with laughter immediately. “No, little babe. That’s asparagus.” 

“Oh!”  

“Blimey, she’s Mims mark two.” Beth laughed, shaking her head as she finished drying her hair. Once bath fresh and towel swathed, the children were dried and dressed in their pyjamas, both gladly going to bed with little protest. This left the couple with approximately ten minutes to get changed, Alfie sauntering around their ensuite naked as the day he was born, hampering Beth’s progress with her makeup.  

“Got time for a quickie?” 

She scoffed, loading her blusher brush and giving it a little tap. “Darling, with you there’s no such thing. Besides, they’ll be here in less than five minutes, and I’ve got to get the starter in the oven.” Turning around, she sighed painedly, looking down to see a certain part of her husband pointing right at her. “Later. Promise.”  

Giving his cock a good squeeze, she evoked his rumbling groan, delighting his neck with a little nibble before heading into the walk in, pulling on her underwear, grey flared trousers and a simple cropped white sweater. She then remembered her meal choice and changed it for black. There was no way she fancied trying to get Bourguignon sauce out of pale cashmere, she thought, racing when she heard the doorbell chime. 

Clipping her gold hoop earrings in, she was just alighting the stairs when the bell sounded for a second time, Beth jogging down the remainder and jumping over a snoozing Cyril.  

“Where you bloody been?” Magda charged, kissing her cheek. “Shagging, were ya?” 

“Almost,” she winked, reaching to kiss Dennis and take the bottle of Bollinger he carried with him with thanks.  

“Sold that Aston Martin this morning, so I thought we’d celebrate, love,” he spoke, Beth congratulating him as she swung the door shut behind them, Cyril heaving himself up to welcome their guests. “Hello, old lad. Claus sends his regards.”  

Out of their four rottweilers, Claus was the only one who remained, just turned nine and much like Cyril, a lot slower on his feet. It didn’t stop him from showing their two newer dogs who was boss, though, the couple switching from their preferred breed when two beautiful Staffordshire bull terriers had come up for adoption at Battersea Dog’s Home. Magda had triumphed in bending Dennis’s ear about it until he’d finally relented, bringing home Marley and Karma almost two years ago.  

“Where’s me kids?” the lady herself cried, noticing the lounge empty of small people. 

“We put ‘em to bed, or if they’d seen their auntie there’s no way we’d ever have got them to go willingly,” Alfie spoke, opening his arms as he entered the lounge. “How are ya, Mags? Lookin’ gorgeous as ever.”  

“They’re half the flippin’ reason I came!” she joked, kissing his cheek. “And thanks, you nearly had me here in joggers and a t shirt. Been up to my fucking eyes with it all day, I have. Inventory. Beth! Has our Mimi brought them bloody shoes back, or have I got to go up Primrose Hill and lynch the soppy mare for ‘em? Had to include ‘em on the list without ‘em actually being there to save me flippin’ hide!” 

She breathed a sigh of relief when her bestie lifted the bag from behind the sofa, pointing to it. “Come on, come tell me all about your wardrobe woes while I get this champagne on ice.” 

Magda did not disappoint. The inventory of the wardrobe department was a huge undertaking, Magda spending the four days it took before everything was cleared ready for the new season’s attire to fill her sacred space catalogued and cleared out, the items heading back to their respective fashion houses.  

“So I’m there, right, and I’m yelling at the dopey cow that two C’s mean Chanel and two G’s mean Gucci, and if she can’t work that out then why the fuck is she trying to carve out a career in fashion in the first flippin’ place! Told her to go get me bloody coffee and have a think about it while she was gone. Honestly, these flamin’ bloody bastard people they send me to train!”  

Some things truly never did change. Magda had not softened at all, and Beth still found much entertainment in her various tirades against the newcomers to ELLE magazine. “And you wanna know the best part? Only fucking walks past Ralph Lauren during his visit and asks who he is!” 

Beth was aghast. “You’re bloody joking me!” 

“Babe, I nearly fell through the fucking floor!” Taking the champagne handed to her with thanks, she toasted her, pulling her cigarettes from her bag. “Just going for a quick smoke, back in a flash.”  

They had a truly lovely evening together, all discussing their impending break out to Santorini to escape the cold grey that was a winter in London, heading over for a week the day after Boxing Day, wanting to see in the New Year in the sunshine at Beth and Alfie’s luxurious villa.  

“I’ll still never forgive you, mate. Stoned and naked, chasing me down, you twat,” Dennis remarked, remembering back to the first time he and Magda had visited the island to stay within Alfie’s abode, the man himself roaring with laughter at the memory. God, it felt like it had been yesterday, yet nine long, fun filled years had passed in the time between.  

“At least you didn’t have him rubbing his cock all over your leg!” Magda snorted, Alfie winking. 

“Don’t pretend you didn’t bloody love it, Mags!” She pulled a kissy face at him, lifting her wine glass and taking a big gulp, washing down the remainer of her food. Beth truly had done a splendid job with everything.  

The pair stayed for coffee before heading home, Beth loading the dishwasher while humming to music playing on her phone, the feel of Alfie’s hands rubbing over her bum signalling his arrival in the kitchen.  

“Right, now it’s just us and you’ve got the dishes all seen to, it’s someone else’s turn for a bloody good seeing to. Know what I mean, treacle?”  

Oh, how she did.  

She only just about had the chance to add a tablet into the slot and kick the door shut before she was thrown over his shoulder, squealing as he smacked her bum with every step that took them up to their bedroom.  

They tumbled into a kiss, greedy, sinful, longing. All that they had once been hadn’t been diminished by marriage, children or time, their fires still burning as brightly as ever for one another. Making short work of their undress, they hit the bed in a tangle of limbs, Alfie quickly extracting himself to go and flick the lock on the bedroom door, save another embarrassed explanation to Abe over what they were doing.  

“Were you and mum wrestling?” the little lad had inquired, after his parents had hastily dressed upon the morning they’d been caught at it, back when he was five. 

Alfie had never cringed so hard in all his life. “Somat like that, my son.” It had been down to Beth to tentatively explain the birds and the bees, Alfie making himself scarce at speed. 

With any entry from small people prevented, he returned to the bed, grabbing Beth’s legs and lying himself between them, his mouth returning to hers with a hungry grunt. The noise had sparks fluttering through her core, the sound of her husband stirred by passion causing tingles to spark, the scent of her arousal intoxicating to him, his hand sliding down her body to cup at her. She gasped, biting his lower lip before their tongues danced wickedly again, a thick finger swiping at her folds, feeling her petals, the heat of her magmatic against him as he explored.   

“Been wanting this all fuckin’ evening, baby beast.” he panted, mouth slipping to her neck, pressing sumptuous, full-lipped kisses that made her shiver like a summer rose touched by the first chill of autumnal frost. 

A sob welled in her throat, pouring from her like wine as that thick digit pushed within, her glistening walls hugging upon it, eyes a burn of blue fire, body keening against his. God, how she still craved him with such unbridled hunger, their connection every inch as magmatic as it had ever been. She rocked against his hand, greedy for more, a second finger joining the first as he held her neck and returned his lips to hers, kissing her with unmatched thirst. 

He was rigid as iron against her hip, her hands smoothing over tattooed flesh, his muscles cording beneath her touch. She grasped him, pulling upward on his cock, sending a ripple through him that caused his chest to jolt. There was no touch more perfect than that of his wife. He breathed raggedly against the swirl of her tongue, head dipping, teeth sharp at her nipples in turn, fingers curling within her soaking cunt to rake exactly where she needed them to.  

She gasped words of longing, Alfie’s mouth descending in a path of loving, heated kisses, the taste of her skin like sweet berries upon his tongue, every touch a constellation laid over her pale curves, igniting her lust to burn like a forest fire. 

Her sex called to him like a siren through a dark, misty night, polarizing, screaming to him, his mouth descending to feast upon her. Closing his full lips around her glistening folds, he sucked upon her hungrily, the elixir of her pouring into his mouth as he tasted her, lost himself to her, felt himself burn to hear the aroused cadence of his beautiful wife.   

She tasted like sharp honey, womanly nectar seeping onto his tongue as he lapped at her in greed, craving more as he buried his mouth against her, her pale legs virtually knotting themselves around his head. Her wail filled the room in soft song, and the sound burned the edges of his very marrow, his heart skipping beats. 

Her hips rucked against his face, a rush of heat evoked by his tongue tracing never ending circles at her clit making her glow, the pleasure biting and throbbing, his hands roaming her all over. She felt besieged by all he bestowed upon her, the touch familiar but never boring. It never was with Alfie. Monotony was not a word heard of within their bedroom. 

Driving his tongue harder against her potent bundle, feeling the little bud beginning to quake under the unrelenting licks, he watched her, her body quivering as he caused a caustic rush. Glimmers began to skitter through her as he brought her to the brink of it, Beth teetering as he paused in tease, gently blowing upon her clit before sucking once again.  

She came apart with a feral cry, her thighs rigid, panting as her release washed over her in ceaseless waves. His lips tended a diligent path back to her mouth, cock daggering into her trembling centre, a rumbled gasp floating from his mouth to hers as he felt her walls fluttering around his girth.   

He stretched and filled her, hands weaving through the long dark of her hair, Beth moaning against each sweet kiss offered, tasting herself upon his mouth. The very flesh and blood of him drew out the primal need within her to give him everything and take what he so willingly poured into her. 

Their intense love and lust for one another collided in perfect alchemy, her slippery walls flexing around him as she glossed the thick cock splitting her wide, her wails like celestial music drifting into his mind as she wrapped her beautiful legs around him. Pushing into his chest, she turned him, Alfie hitting the bed with a thud and a chuckle.  

“Oh, so the duchess wants to be in charge for a bit, ay?”  

She grinned, leaning to him, offering kisses steeped in smoking honey. “Well, if there’s one person you relinquish control for.” 

She began to move against him with tantalising allure, her hips circling as she bore down on his length, little pricks of pleasure melting down her spine. It took diligence, but he was soon a mess beneath her, sweat streaking his tattooed flesh, his cock throbbing within the clench of her walls. Her movements became more focused, wanting to send him reeling into the blinding eclipse of pleasure, feel his enormity crest beneath her.   

The soaking clench of her cunt fluttered strongly around him, the pressure perfect as he felt it crackle furiously before the fire ripped through him completely. With his cock��pulsing, he filled her of all which she milked from him, his head thudding back against the bed, gritted teeth finally relaxing as he swam in ecstasy.  

His soul floated somewhere above him, rendered a shaking wreck by her, colours illuminating behind his closed eyelids, everything fluid as the waves continued to wash through him, his heart thundering. She gentled her motions, coming to a stop, her walls flexing around him, but not in the same way as he knew would have had she reached the same cataclysmic finish as he, and for that, he would make much amends. 

They lay stroking one another, chattering, laughing as the night hours drew out. He needed a little more recovery time, now he’d hit his mid-forties, but once that was attained... 

Beth shrieked loudly as her back hit the bedroom wall, glad the children’s bedrooms were a fair enough distance for her yelp not to wake them, laughing excitedly. His mouth covered hers, her legs firm in their hug around his waist as his hands glided over her sweat slicked hair, hips beginning to drive forth into her burning centre. 

She wailed at the fever-hot intrusion of him, merciless in his delivery, fucked hard and fast against the wall coated in luxury paint. His groans spilled onto her tongue, swirling with his, her moans arrowing into the epicentre of his lust for her as he drove into her like a piston. 

Her elegant, dark red nails clawed at his back, marking him, the sting both sharp and sweet as he persisted in frantically building her up to inferno. For him, she would burn to her very bones and back. He’d never accepted any less. 

Alfie never would either. 

Her cries of abandon filled the air as he slowed his rhythm, backing off from a frenzied, merciless pounding of her cunt to a slow, purposeful movement, dragging every girthy inch of his cock in a sumptuously slow glide against her twitching walls.  

Spearing her again hard, he reached her hilt and shuddered with overwhelming desire, arms snaking beneath her trembling thighs to spread her wider, allowing him to bottom out deeper, filling her to the very summit of her cunt. He then slowed, everything potently drawn out, the tempest swirling slowly, but by no means less brutally.  

He was soaked in her slick, her walls hugging him snugly as he withdrew slowly once again, his cock glistening in the low light. It was almost too much to withstand for him, how hot she smouldered all over, but nowhere more so than her cunt. She was like magma around him, without the pain of an unhealable burn.   

Alternating, he drove into her hard again, balls smacking against her with a lewd slap as he began to fuck her frenziedly, Beth demanding he go harder, her nails once again clawing like a feral feline as she felt her ascension flood her body. Sparks skittered through her, her release the full moon rising over his dark horizon as she came apart for him with maddening intensity.   

He pounded her voraciously, giving her no time to recover from his afflictions, fucking her with consuming vigour. Her aroused cries grew louder, her voice breaking with fervour, each thrust the ignition for lightning to begin darting up her spine once more.    

“That’s it, baby. Come again for me.” He growled low in her ear, tongue brushing her throat and his hand fisting her clammy hair to yank her head back, the howl of release reverberating through his ear as his teeth implanted themselves into her shoulder, the pain adding to the overwhelming pleasure.    

Little tremors wracked his cock as he slowed again, wanting to experience those pleasurable twinges as intensely as possible. Re-establishing the surging pace, he let go of her hair and gripped her shoulders, forcing her to take the full, unyielding brunt of every acerbically delivered thrust.    

His groans were as low as rolling thunder, chasing the next release he knew she had for him. They were slick with sweat, bodies simmering, ready and willing to boil for one another again, the embers of their fuck growing, glowing, the fire roaring through them as he felt himself spill into the viscid clutch of her cunt as she shook hard through her own release.   

They swam in bliss together, alone in the bright light of orgasmic abandon, just him and her entwined, the rest of the world falling away. The sound of her soft exclamations through each laboured gasp brought him back from it, looking at her adoringly.  

“My Bethany. Still a little wild’un, ain’t ya, darlin?” 

Trying to catch her breath, she left out a comic huff, kissing the tip of his nose as he chuckled. “Always am for you, boo.” 

He carried her to the ensuite, both taking a quick, refreshing shower to cleanse the sweat which had beaded them, Beth pulling on a clean nightie and Alfie his pyjama bottoms, unlocking the door on the way back to the bed. Gone were the days of enjoying sleeping with nothing other than each other wrapped around their nakedness, now that they usually had early morning visitors to their bed.  

Whistle, beep, snore, grizzle, whistle, snore. Yes, they could only be the sounds of one person that awoke Alfie at 5:52am the following morning, pulling back the duvet to see Flora snuggled up beside him.  

“Ahh, ‘ello, Officer Jones,” he spoke, stroking her messy hair, Beth snorting with laughter at his side. 

“We have to let them watch those films at some point, they’ll love them,” she spoke, referring to the Police Academy films, one of the characters who of course her daughter seemed to take after in the sound effects department.  

“Yeah, when they’re a bit older,” he agreed, pulling back the duvet to see Abe snuggled in beside his mother. “Ahh, the other one found his way in too. Like homing beacons, innit?” 

Just then, the door was shunted open, their furry child ambling in and jumping up onto the foot of the bed, the family complete. Flora stirred, rubbing her eyes and smiling widely. “Cyril.” she croaked, crawling from under the covers, her fleecy security blanket within her grasp. Plonking herself down next to the gargantuan dog, she covered them both with the swathe of soft, grey fleece, kissing his head and wrapping her arms around his neck.  

“I suppose you’re going to get up and workout, hmm?” Beth asked, Alfie turning over and wrapping her in his arms, reaching to gently stroke Abe’s head.  

“Nah, love. I’m happy exactly where I am.” 

That went for all five of them. 

The End.  

[indianariesolive]

My Unpopular(ish) opinions/takes on Legacy of the Gods series by Rina Kent

Contains spoilers ⚠️

Starting off strong, let me just get this off my chest, I really dislike God of Malice. This is mainly due to the insufferable MCs; Killian & Glyndon.

First of all, I found Killian really difficult to empathize with. Sure, what his dad said about regretting having him sucks but that's no excuse to be an a$$hole. I'm sure that if a mid/ugly guy with no money & prestige did the same things he'd done when first meeting Glyndon (iykyk) they'd be mercilessly ripped apart by the fandom. Also that one line in his POV when he said that the main reason why he chose to be a med student was because that gave him a free pass to poke & prod into people's innards & watch them squirm in agony 🤢

Coming to the 2nd part, Glyndon. As a protagonist she was such a blank slate. Killian at least had personality! (A bad one but he had one nonetheless). Same can't be said about Glyndon with her wimpiness coupled with an absurd inferiority complex (despite being talented & surrounded by a powerful & loving family & friends) as well as her lack of a deep connection with her friend group. On a more serious note, I despise the absolute double standards with which she views Killian & her brother Landon. Both are clinically diagnosed psychopaths but she has none of the grace & understanding for her own brother but readily excuses her boyfriend's behavior even though both of them are the same person, different font. 🙄

Moving on to the 2nd book, God of Pain is one of my favorites in the series but not without its fair share of drawbacks. Even though Annika appeared to be a manic pixie dream girl at the beginning she grew on me as chapter by chapter, her POVs revealed her to be more complex & headstrong, contrasting the whimsical image she's perceived as (both by her love interest, the MMC Creighton as well as the other characters like her friends & family). She's a sweet, soft girl with a dormant badass side that can get dangerous when provoked & that's precisely what Creighton had to learn through the hard way.

Getting to the gist of my main problem, I really hated the way everyone treated Annika after the you-know-what. I mean, what else was she supposed to do, watch her beloved brother get murdered by the love of her life? Everyone cut her off 'cause 'she hurt Cray-Cray who's like our brother'. Well, SHE HAD TO DO THAT TO SAVE HER OWN BROTHER, YOU ABSOLUTE DUMBASSES!!!! Y'all brains weren't braining here. Also, that scene near the end where there's this huge confrontation Creighton has with Adrian Volkov & Annika with her quick thinking just snatches a guard's gun, negotiates & diffuses the situation without bloodshed was just chef's kiss. 😌

Also, everyone gushes over Lia & Yan's friendship but Yan's bond with Annika, how he plays the role of the fun uncle while Adrian glares & has to rein them in as the level-headed dad. 🥺

That brings me to this sidenote: Glyndon could take a page out of Annika's book & learn a lesson: How to Love Your Brother & Stand Up for Yourself.

Regarding Jeremy & Cecily, I don't have any major complaints. I like how Cecily put Jeremy in his place & made him grovel for disrespecting her with his trust issues. Putting his mommy issues aside, Jeremy was overall a good character for a dark romance. He's got the hot biker thing going.

Moving on to Landon & Mia. I have nothing against Mia per se. She's pretty cool. I only hated how the author ruined her bond with her twin Maya. Also, I'm kind of ashamed to say that I wasn't the biggest fan of Landon at first but then going through his POVs made me realize that I'd been bought into the anti-Lan propaganda by Glyndon. He actually cares for his siblings, unlike Killian. He just has an unconventional way of showing it. Plus there wasn't a huge power-gap/imbalance between him & Mia so that's another point in his favour.

Last but not the least, God of Fury featuring Nikolai & Brandon has got to be among my top favorites. I only dislike the unnecessary mud-slinging with the irrelevant ex Clara. Everything else was perfection. I never expected Nikolai to be such an adorable & funny character. Also something I find really funny was that both in this book as well as in her POV, Glyndon claimed to be the one closest to Brandon. The way she described her dynamic with her brothers was, "Bran & I are a team against Lan." And not only did Brandon shut her down in a gentle yet firm tone, also her dense arse never noticed anything wrong with Brandon like!?!?! Landon was the one who'd picked on Brandon's tendency to hide & repress his emotions & stuff, and he was the one who'd tried to help Brandon open up, even if his attempt was unsuccessful. So much for her being the one on the same team lol.

[goldeneyedgirl]

Ficmas24 NYE: Infidelityverse

Happy New Year, everyone!

This one was requested by my beloved beautlilies, and I am powerless to resist her whims.

This universe is getting a massive overhaul in the rewrite. Pondering it for a hot minute, I really want to explore Jasper's 'addiction' to emotions, his fucked up relationship with Maria, Alice's absolute disconnect from humanity, how hard she's worked to build the Cullen version of herself from a blank slate, and who she is when that's not something that makes her happy anymore, Bella's fascination and fixation on becoming a vampire, and the absolutely messy dynamic of the Cullen family and their stunted, unchanging roles in the family hierarchy. I don't want there to be a singular 'villain'; just a lot of flawed people making choices that result in consequences. And as it stands right now, it's very flat and not quite as complex as I want it to be. So hopefully I can sit down and smash out the new version of the first chapter sometime soon.

This particular section kind of blends both versions, but it takes on the new timeline - this second takes place about 3 years after Twilight; Bella is still human and attending college with Edward.

I hope you enjoy it - I also thought it was unfair that the second half of STL AU was today's post when it was never intended to be split into two posts, so that will be up in the next few days.

Happy New Year, and I hope 2025 is beautiful for you - manifesting health, happiness, wealth, and just really delicious snack.

--

It’s a while before she sees any of them again in person. She’s doing fine on her own. (They all forget that part of her, that she was alone for twenty years. She was reborn alone, and it has clung to her ever since. Maybe that’s why she was such a shit wife.)

Rosalie reaches out, asking to meet them in Prague, and Alice appreciates that Rose isn’t trying to track her down, burst in her front door like finding her is the key to putting everything back together again. The idea of any of them being in her little house feels kind of threatening; it’s really the first time she’s had her own household.

Before she met Jasper, there were boarding houses or empty houses that she broke into for a day or two. The beach houses and real estate she’d owned with Jasper were still considered part of the family’s portfolio, still watched over by Esme who did all of the maintenance and restoration. This is the first time she’s ever had to manage on her own, and she doesn’t want them to look around and judge it. To see how she’s not as good as Esme at making it a home, that she’s forgotten some obvious detail of playing house as a human.

(Esme would make a lot of comments about decorating, because it’s still very… utilitarian. Most of the props she bought for the kitchen are still in their packages, crammed into the hallway closet. But there’s something very grounding about being a ghost in this house.)

She writes back to Rose that she would like to see her and Emmett, and then she packs for Prague - mostly the clothing she thinks of as her armor because she bought it and wears it exclusively for seeing her family. It’s all timeless styles because she doesn’t have the energy to maintain the wardrobe she used to.

(Apparently a broken heart sucks all the joy out of those things she used to love. But she’s started designing again, started drawing up patterns, so maybe this is just a new era.)

It’s before dawn when she leaves, but there aren’t any neighbours to spy or gossip. She’s the only property on this road. It’s a village that’s slowly disappearing, as the residents die off. She’s treated with indifference, as a foreigner in a town full of people who have known each other for the best part of a century.

//

Rose and Emmett find her in Prague, sitting at a coffee shop with tea in front of her, and Rosalie is genuinely pleased to see her sister again. Alice is a contradiction in every single way Rose can think of; somehow the most steady and consistent of them all whilst being a whirlwind of possibility. Emmett once compared cornering Alice to herding cats, but Rosalie has always privately thought it would be more like catching a hummingbird blindfolded.

But this is not that version of Alice. Emmett has always said that the worst thing was that day she sat down on the couch next to him, rigid and blank. That he never knew how much energy and effort she put into being Alice until it wasn’t worth it to her anymore.

“I guess we should be grateful she didn’t wasn't mad enough to become a supervillain or join the Volturi or something.” Emmett had carelessly said that in the family meeting after she left for France, and it had started an argument big enough to go down in the family’s history.

But Rosalie never forgot it because Emmett was right. If Alice had ever had a taste for doling out consequences and vengeance, she could have brought hell down around them. Hell, Rosalie would probably have encouraged her.

Perhaps this was better though; this calm but guarded monolith of a woman - Rosalie had spoken to Jasper when he returned with the financial records from France, and Alice’s appearance and behaviour had shaken some modicum of realization into him, that this wasn't going to be like every single other time. Rose hadn’t been particularly sympathetic, and pointed out that it had taken Alice sixty years to grow a spine and walk away.

Jasper hadn’t spoken to her for two weeks. Something about Alice now had cut Jasper to the bone, and maybe that was more satisfying than burning everything to the ground.

Alice looks well, her eyes a toffee shade, and her outfit is perfectly on point for the early winter’s day, in shades of black and grey - it just doesn’t look like something she would have worn back in Forks. Rose’s lilac winter coat looks almost childish against Alice’s outfit.

She’s missed her sister.

“Rose!” The smile on Alice’s face is genuine, and she rises to hug her, and then Emmett.

//

Alice is clearly not happy to be blindsided by Jasper and Carlisle’s arrival on the third day, but they move past it. They fill their days together with museums and shopping, Emmett doing a lot of the heavy lifting to fill in silences - especially when Esme pushes a little too hard.

When Carlisle and Jasper do arrive, there is no displeasure expressed, none of the dramatics Rosalie herself would have indulged in. Alice greets them both sweetly; no hugs, but with a quasi warmth in her voice. As the day progresses, not once does Alice make a pointed comment, a little jab in Jasper’s direction, an underhanded joke at her husband’s (oh, Rose has to stop thinking of them like that) behaviour. But this version of Alice, it’s impossible to guess what she’s thinking as they make their way through galleries and museums. There are no lingering looks, no longing gazes, and by the end of the day Rosalie has decided that her sister is behaving like a fucking airline hostess without even a glimmer of independent thought.

(Jasper behaves too, it must be said. He’s very polite, maintains all of Alice’s boundaries in their conversations, and doesn’t even try to touch her. Rose wonders if that’s one of the reasons Alice is dressed in layer upon layer of winter clothing; so that if Jasper reaches out, he still won't be able to hold her.)

It’s not until after the orchestral performance that it all goes to shit because Carlisle really cannot help but champion Edward at every possible moment, as if the harmony they’ve achieved this visit is the foundation for a return to the status quo and not the new world that frankly Rosalie and Esme have worked fucking hard to get to with Alice. But then Carlisle hasn’t been the one gently luring Alice back into contact with cautious emails and texts.

“I understand that this will be controversial,” Carlisle says, as they sit on the balcony of the penthouse Esme has optimistically purchased. It does need a lot of work, and it’s a nice project, but if Alice lives anywhere nearby, she’ll relocate now. “But Bella gave me this to pass along to you.”

Alice’s face goes blank as Carlisle slides the envelope across the table and for a split-second, so quick that Rosalie thinks she might have imagined it, she sees the hurt on Alice’s face at the sudden comprehension that this visit has been hijacked into an attempt at reconciliation.

Rosalie doesn’t even need to look at Jasper; she can feel the anger rolling off him like heat.

“You can return it to her.” Alice’s voice is firm as she slides the letter back towards Carlisle.

“Alice, I understand your anger and I support you making your own way, but both Edward and Bella miss you terribly. We all do. It’s not the same without you around,” Carlisle says earnestly, and Rosalie is fascinated by the reactions of the family - Jasper’s glaring at Carlisle with a look that could kill; Emmett looks dejected at the inevitable blow-up of their visit; Esme is staring at the table top looking upset. “Bella wants to make amends; I know she hopes you’ll be at the wedding in the summer. I promised Bella I would see that you received the letter.”

Alice nods, but her face is guarded as she stares at the letter before picking it up; Jasper flinches like he’s going to take it from her but steadies himself when she looks over.

No one is surprised when the evening ends shortly afterwards; Carlisle is visibly disappointed that Alice doesn’t open the letter in front of them, and the ease of her departure, claiming a red-eye flight back to wherever she’s been holed up (knowing Alice, there will be three separate flights under two different identities so that they can’t find her. There’s always been that streak of paranoia in her sister, one that Carlisle and Jasper both blamed on her nomadic years alone and Rosalie secretly blamed on how many people had let Alice down.)

Rosalie is the only one not surprised when, as Alice walks towards the door with her suitcase in tow, she pauses to rip the envelope in half and then quarters before tossing it in the garbage.

They all stand in silence as the door closes behind her, and Esme whirls around on Carlisle instantly, looking furious.

“She would already know what it said.” Jasper stops the argument in its tracks and Rosalie is grateful; there’s something about watching Esme and Carlisle argue that makes the world feel like it’s off its axis. “She probably saw Bella write it.”

// The invitation feels like an obscenity in front of her. It’s also tacky as fuck. Edward Mason Cullen & Isabella Marie Swan invite you to celebrate their marriage…

She was still invited to their fucking wedding after she binned Bella’s letter. Edward had left a voice mail after that, and it was one of those times she wanted to strangle her brother, to get him to understand that sometimes apologies weren’t enough. Sometimes the damage was too great to rebuild. He’d told her how disappointed he was that she hadn’t accepted Bella’s olive branch.

(Maybe she’d dashed off a text, asking Edward if he’d read the stupid fucking letter. If he knew that Bella’s jumbled thoughts boiled down to her trying to find any way possible to achieve eternal life - or restless death - and stay at Edward’s side forever no matter what the collateral damage was. We can fix this, Bella had written earnestly, as if Alice were equally responsible for the wreckage Bella wrought. Edward had just asked her to consider responding, and she’d blocked him for a week in response.)

When she holds the invitation up, she lets the visions slip into place.

If she accepts, a blue dress so dark its nearly black. More revealing that she would have thought, but with thin straps elaborately criss-crossed across her back, like a net. Charlie Swan is surprised and pleased to see her, and makes some awkward comments that Bella had said they’d fallen out before Alice left. Renee appears, introducing herself and urging Alice to go upstairs and greet Bella, that Bella will be overjoyed Alice chose to attend.

There is a look of confusion and concern when Alice’s ice cold response, “I’ll see the bride after the ceremony,” finds its target. Perhaps she pointedly sits on the groom’s side in the far corner, as far away from Bella’s side as possible.

After the ceremony, photographs. She excuses herself after two - one with the Swans and Cullens, and one with just the Cullens. She pretends not to hear the photographer suggest one of all the women together and stalks off to the reception. Carmen and Eleazer greet her, they speak. She finds a table in a dark corner, and watches proceedings from there. A few Forks High students find her, clearly looking for gossip, and she offers them just enough for Jessica and Angela to side-eye Bella and Jasper for the rest of the night. Petty but satisfying.

Jasper finds her just before the cake cutting, and takes a seat opposite her. And then it blurs and they’re in the woods together, pressed against a tree as he fumbles for his belt and gathers up the skirt of her dress and that jolts her right out of the vision, tossing the invitation onto the table and stalking into the living room, irritation practically rolling off her.

It’s not set in stone - nothing is - but she feels oddly sick that the wedding is going to make her so bitter, so angry, so raw. She’s not sure if what she’s found is peace or apathy, but it’s so much easier than how she was before that giving it up feels like she’s betraying herself and every single moment of the last four years.

[merakiui]

do you still have any thoughts about shouki no kami railing you? I'm. Absolutely rotting over here

Yes!!! I am always thinking of him. orz allow me to write some scattered thoughts for our beloved shouki no kami.

✧ imagine if the sages were more well-prepared when they were constructing scaramouche. you're the test dummy dottore has manufactured to test shouki no kami's full fighting prowess. since you've been made to be durable, scaramouche is free to throw you around rather roughly in order to get used to operating the giant robot. at some point, he realizes you're not just a silent doll and that you actually do indeed have a consciousness of your own and can speak freely.

✧ something something au in which you're the dendro archon and shouki no kami defeats the traveler and is going to get rid of you because he sees no reason to keep a useless god such as yourself around, but then he realizes you know what it's like to be alone and trapped; and so maybe it won't be so terrible if you spend eternity locked away in a new cage to keep him company while he rules as the better god. :)

✧ shouki no kami fatally wounds you when he fights you. he had told you to either join him in the new era he shall build or perish fighting. he expected your resistance and disobedience, but he doesn't realize just how much you must hate him to want to defeat him. unfortunately, he's too strong and he realizes that he's hurt you after the dust has settled. he decides to build you anew. after all, being with dottore for so long has taught him a thing or two. and when you wake, you'll be a blank slate, ready to be molded to his liking. he'll sweep this egregious error of his under the rug. out of sight, out of mind. and even though he has you alive and in his arms again, there's always something missing...

✧ you are shouki no kami's handmaiden and he is so in love with you, but he has no idea how to go about it so he's always awkwardly trying to talk to you more. he even opens the robot only for you so that you can see the real him, but most times he stays locked within because he doesn't want you to see him when he becomes flustered. just imagine this really huge, towering robot turning so soft the minute he thinks of you, but then you actually stand before him and he defaults to insults and harsh tones because it's his defense mechanism. they just don't teach gods how to love when you become one! how is he supposed to know anything about romance?! >:(

✧ as for railing thoughts, i'm thinking about the time loops and just imagining shouki no kami using those to get your body more acclimated to his touch so that by the time you realize you're in a loop you'll be ready to truly reciprocate. and if he does anything wrong, he can just start again. and again. and again. and again. so many times that the lines between obsession and love blur and you're swept up in his infatuation.

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Fic Writing Review 2023

Words and Fics

107,074 words published to ao3

1 fandom (9-1-1)

Most recent: I’m still standing in the same place where you left me standing

Longest fic: not counting the short fic collection it’s where all of the people dancing and clapping would great me with such warmth (15k)

Top 3 by Kudos

pick me, choose me, love me (trapped Buck and Chris)

all my life, there you go (collection of soft prompts)

maybe fall in love (first fic posted for the fandom! It’s a hot night in LA…)

Personal Favorite

I’m actually very fond of a lot of them but I’ll shout out All the work that needs to be done aka Bobby dies fic sorry Bobby I just think I did good work here…

Upcoming Projects for 2024

Oooobh I have so many wips…. I feel like I need to finish season 7 fight fic before the new season comes out and blows it out of the water (possibly literally with that promo…), but nurse Eddie my beloved… quilt shop au… proposal fic my languishing child…. Literally any of the other ones I’ve ever talked about….

That said I was thinking about how it’s weird I’ve never made either a Buddie adopt another kid or Buck obtains a child fic, I love making up children for characters…. Maybe that’ll get added to the slate…

And of course we’ll see what inspiration the new season brings…

Rules and Tags

Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.

Tagged by @daffi-990 and others but it’s so far back in my notifications and hard to find my deepest apologies

Tagging (if you already did this or tagged me I’m sorry) @burins @shortsighted-owl @shitouttabuck @rewritetheending @chronicowboy @homerforsure @eddiebabygirldiaz @malewifediaz @rogerzsteven @butchdiaz @thewolvesof1998 @wildlife4life @buckactuallys @lover-of-mine @jeeyuns @ anyone who’s tagged me in anything all year I have terrible memory for urls but know I’ve appreciated it every time!! You’ve all been so nice when I suddenly dropped from the sky and started yelling about these dumb firefighters alongside you, and I’m grateful for you all!

[droughtofapathy]

The Gilded Age's Broadway Divas: Aurora Fane (Kelli O'Hara)

Beloved by all, Aurora Fane enjoys a powerful position in Mrs. Astor's New York. Having suitably recovered from impending financial ruin last season, this season, Aurora has done some ill-fated matchmaking, worn some fantastic hats, and provided beautiful window dressing to scenes where she just sits there and looks pretty.

One of Broadway's (few) leading sopranos, Kelli O'Hara is a dying breed. As trends shift towards a more pop/rock sound, and classical musical theatre becomes a thing of the past, Kelli nevertheless finds her niche. A seven-time Tony nominee, Kelli has won Best Leading Actress in a Musical for the 2015 revival of The King and I. You'll recall another Gilded Age Diva who won for that same role some years prior. A proshot of the NT Live production can be found online. It is a gorgeous shoot, even if I take issue with that show as a whole.

She has also been nominated for Kiss Me, Kate (2019), The Bridges of Madison County (2014), and The Light in the Piazza (2005). Ironically, though Aurora Fane supports The Academy, Kelli is a classically trained opera singer who has appeared on the Met Opera stage three times, and will play Laura Brown in an encore run of The Hours this spring. (See my breakdown post over costumes here.)

However, prior to her opera appearance, Kelli will be starring in the new Broadway musical Days of Wine and Roses for a limited 16-week run, opening on January 28th. Kelli has been nominated for every role she has played since 2005, and this will almost certainly be no different. Booked and busy.

#1: "Shall We Dance?" The King and I (2015)

Kelli's voice is otherworldly angelic. That much we already know very well. The King and I opened in 2015 at the Vivian Beaumont Theatre at Lincoln Center, the third musical Kelli has starred in at that venue. The Beaumont is, of course, right next to The Met Opera, and the only Broadway theater outside the theatre district in Midtown.

As Anna Leonowens, Kelli travels to Siam to teach the children and wives of the king how to speak English. Orientalism aside, the show is a classic Rodgers and Hammerstein, and the score is divine in Kelli's mouth. Fun fact: Kelli's replacement was Marin Mazzie in one of her last onstage roles. Marin was the Passion co-star and dear friend to Donna Murphy, our Mrs. Astor.

This video is from the 2015 Tony performance and showcases the incredible quick change Kelli makes between singing "Getting to Know You" and "Shall We Dance?" aided by a team of unbelievable dressers. It is a marvel to witness. As is Ruthie Ann Miles, Kelli's co-star who recently performed in the Encores! production of Light in the Piazza.

#2: "What More Do I Need?" Take Me to the World: A Sondheim 90th Birthday Celebration (2020)

In 2020, despite a global pandemic, the theatre community still found a way to honor Stephen Sondheim's milestone 90th birthday with an online concert. Kelli performed a song from Saturday Night, Sondheim's first professional musical that was slated for Broadway in 1955, but was scrapped. It only got its New York premiere in 2000. This particular number is a cabaret favorite, and Kelli is an absolute delight with just a camera and digital accompaniment.

Fun fact: it wasn't until this particular performance that I truly started to appreciate the wonder that is Kelli O'Hara. I had previously seen her in concert just that March, and loved her, of course, but I have a complex relationships with sopranos. I now recognize that I love mature sopranos, but it's the ingenues I can't listen to without wincing.

#3: "They Don't Let You In the Opera" (2016)

Lest we think Kelli is limited in her range and style, this song was written especially for her to showcase her vast talent and comedic timing. Kelli, an Oklahoma farmgirl, isn't the sort of person you'd expect to be both classically trained and country literate.

Kelli, who has been typecast as refined and often repressed characters who go through harrowing emotional experiences, much like Aurora Fane, is more than capable of bringing a rollicking comedy to the mix.

This number is a favorite in Kelli's concert repertoire. There isn't much more to say, except that you need to witness its hilarity for yourself.

#4: “Heaven? Somebody else’s heaven?” The Hours (2023)

Speaking of opera, here is an excerpt from a scene in Act II where Laura Brown has fled to a hotel room to contemplate some very serious courses of action. Kelli, alongside soprano Renee Fleming and mezzo-soprano Joyce DiDonato, makes up a trio of phenomenal women in Kevin Putts' adaptation of the book and movie.

The Met Opera theatre seats nearly 4,000 people across six levels. The performers do not use body mics or amplification of any kind, but rather rely on intense vocal training to be heard across the theater. For this reason, alongside the vastly different vocal techniques and styles, musical theatre actors rarely cross over into opera, and vice versa. Notable exceptions include Renee Fleming, Kelli's Light in the Piazza co-star Victoria Clark, and Mary Beth Peil, who made her musical theatre debut in The King and I as yet another Miss Anna, hers in 1985.

#5: "So in Love," Kiss Me, Kate (2019)

Starring in yet another Golden Age musical revival, Kelli brings a different take on Lilli Vanessi, a glamorous movie star in a turbulent relationship. Kelli's vocal talent, of course, speaks for itself. For Kelli, this role was a tribute to her dear friend, the late Marin Mazzie, who had passed away some months before the show opened. Marin, who replaced Kelli in The King and I, had played this same role in the 1999 Broadway revival to great acclaim. In her first entrance of the show, Kelli wore a costume that featured the very same hat Marin wore in her show.

Though this video is beloved, my personal favorite rendition can be heard below. It was taken at a concert Kelli put on at the 92Y in New York last February. In it, Kelli sings for and to Marin, and the entire theatre wept.

Bonus: "Back to Before," Ragtime Reunion Concert (2023)

The role of Mother was originally workshopped by Donna Murphy in Toronto in the early 90s, but she left to do King and I, which worked out well for her. In came dear friend Marin Mazzie, who originated the role on Broadway, and established a precedent no other has been able to top. Also in that cast? Audra McDonald as Sarah, for which she won a Tony, of course.

In 2023, after years of pandemic-related delays, they staged a one-night reunion concert of this special show. And who better to take on Marin's iconic role than Kelli O'Hara? Listen to her "Back to Before" here, and then do yourself a favor and run, don't walk, to listen to Marin's.

[delopsia]

del 💐 what about grocery shopping adventures with the floytts?!

i wish they weren’t so regionally different because the idea is so domestically dreamy 😔 but let’s try anyway...

*whispers* actually, let me first say that reader is technically a blank slate existing around these two hot dogs, so any additions you’d like to make regarding them and the ideas i have yet to present is up to you 💫

rhett-ington 🌻

does he actually not mind holding onto the cart? does he ever learn to not silently walk off when robby and reader’s backs are turned? or maybe it’s second nature because he really doesn’t mean to wander off and get himself lost (often times in plain sight because sometimes he’s just very quiet and still) while reader and robby speedwalk around like a scooby-doo montage...

is he holding a hand when all they need is a basket? does he ever absentmindedly try to pull whoever’s hand he has laced with his along to see something on a shelf that catches his eye—maybe not to buy necessarily, but just because it looks wacky or interesting?

i feel like rhett is the resident *points to item on top shelf* “hey cowboy, can you get that for me please?” even if it’s robby, who is only an inch or two shorter than him, asking? and rhett just 😌 “of course, baby.” because he loves being needed...

do you headcanon him adding anything else to the grocery lists besides his usual snacks? i feel like rhett is a creature of habit when it comes to the meals he does like, especially since reader and robby have since introduced him to different and more flavorful meals, again, unless it’s on a plate that doesn’t belong to him per saaay, but to someone who knows him and then he’s like “that looks tasty...” but to me, rhett seems more like he just mindlessly goes with the flow on grocery trips...

he will, however, in my humble opinion, absolutely annihilate a farmers market. i think the cowboy is a mental math, recipe remembering, time efficient lunatic when faced with booths of fresh produce, flowers, and baked goods. he’s even better with a list, of course, and definitely won’t miss out on a chance to drown in reader and robby’s kisses and hugs when he comes home with seasonal pastries or slices of cake or pie and a fistful of sunflowers...

rob-ington 🌷

is robby the opposite? a time efficient, recipe remembering, mental math machine in a fluorescent-lit grocery store rather than a farmer’s market? i think out in that busy outdoor market he’s the one who dilly-dallies and lallygags and sometimes walks off, because he’s checking out nearly every booth that is selling ready made food 🤭

but i think robby keeps a grocery list as organized as reader keeps their pantry and kitchen? (which! i felt that so hard because SAME) but maybe it’s reusable, in a way? like they always cover all basis for their cooking lifestyle, robby has his own special homecooked recipes he got from his mama that he loves making his beloved partners, so they just check inventory and keep buying what they’re low on or out of? he does strike me as someone who bypasses the boxed / pre-made baking aisle no matter how much rhett whines that he “jus’ wants to see!” because again, his mama raised him up with a couple recipes for batches of big chewy cookies and a chocolate cake so decadent that it even knocks him on his ass for a nap after a slice and a glass of milk...

but maybe he folds around holiday times when reader and rhett plead so sweetly for those ridiculous (his words) seasonal cookies 😂

The way in which I was standing in a grocery store, checked my phone, and saw this 😭

Currently renaming the Hawthorn AU to the Hot Dog AU 💃

Rhett never learns; the problem is that he only means to step away for a second. He's standing by the cart and realizes that, "Oh! We need sugar; that's just around the corner. I'll go grab that." But then he comes back, the cart is gone, and he can't find them again. He only intends to help, but he's never fully in sync with the plan that the other two have.

Sometimes, he'll look up and see them darting past, having no clue he's standing right there, and he'll just let it go on until they finally spot him. He gets a kick out of standing there, sugar in hand, watching them struggle to find him.

If they only need a basket, then he'll sometimes curl his finger into Bob's belt loop and just follow along that way. It doubles as an excellent way of not losing each other in crowds, so long as you don't mind the soft tugging. But he does just forget he's got someone's hand in his.

"Don't you see it?"

"You're pointing our hands at about four different things, Rhett."

Bobby can fully reach that bag of chips on the top shelf and they all know it, and that just makes Rhett's content grin grow larger. Bonus points if they both struggle to get it and the Reader finds the little step ladder the employees use.

Rhett's definitely a big creature of habit when it comes to food; if it weren't for Reader and Robby, he would eat the same ten meals all the time. Sometimes, he makes a big deal out of it; if Bob says no to hot dogs, then he'll annoyingly burst into a "What, are you too good for hot dogs now? Will the cheese start a revolt? Ham can't handle another type of meat in its presence? I can't believe how you've changed🙄"

But he will just...find these odd foods that pop up from time to time. Once, he disappeared and came back with Dorito-flavored beef jerky. Another, he wound up with canned jackfruit, didn't know what it was, but it intrigued him. Nobody could find where he got them. Then there were the Froot Loops Cereal Straws, when he doesn't even eat cereal that often, and the countless odd, frozen meals that were too intriguing not to try. He doesn't like most of the things he finds, but it always makes dinner a little more interesting.

He only finds these things if he's with Bob and Reader, though. Otherwise, he's in and out within ten minutes. He isn't one for browsing unless he's glued to the cart, free to look at everything, while the other two fuss over which brand to buy.

Rhett and farmers markets! He can always spot the good stuff; he used to follow his momma to the market every Saturday as a kid and picked a lot up from just watching. How to spot the good, avoid the bad, what a scam looks like; the only time he slows down is when he winds up in the baked goods section. It's the only thing he's not familiar with; just because it looks like it has apple in it doesn't mean it's not another fruit in disguise. He learned that the hard way when he accidentally brought home apricot turnovers.

That's how he learned that he hates apricot.

Always picks out things he knows Reader and Bob like, even if he doesn't enjoy it himself because he loves the excited smiles and thankful kisses he gets wrapped up in. Of course, he will always overpay for his favorite lemon bars, even if Bobby does roll his eyes and promise he can make them at home, too.

Robby is the kind of guy who has a whole damn game plan for shopping. It's a little bit funny. Start with the non-food items, the things that won't get warm while browsing, and then straight to the back of the grocery section, slowly working back toward the front. He organizes the items on the list to come in chronological order so he never has to hunt to cross something off. The Reader falls into the habit pretty easily, but Rhett's brain just doesn't work like that, which is why he gets lost so often.

The way that Bob can look at a package and figure out the price per ounce, all in his head, deeply frightens Rhett.

The only problem with Bob in grocery stores is the overstimulation. Those bright fucking lights and the music and the people and the squealing tires and wondering where the hell Rhett got lost; it all gives him a killer migraine by the end. Farmer's markets confuse him because the layout is rarely the same; just because Mrs. Betty was here last week doesn't mean she is this one. And for once, he's quiet, letting Rhett lead the way and trying not to get lost.

There's someone who always sells fresh chicken at a hell of a deal, but they also bring live chickens with them, and something about it just makes Bob pass up on it. How can he buy meat when that chicken's best friend is looking back at him?

Nobody can convince me that Robby doesn't have a damn pantry inventory spreadsheet. While the Reader has free reign of where everything goes, Bob has an elaborate tracking of what they have, how much, and how much has been used. That being said...there's a pattern. The list looks the same, aside from a few items, always needing to get cornmeal mix for the cornbread, red beans, and long-grain rice for the...red beans and rice (who could have guessed?). Same seasonings, always needing two dozen eggs, always this, always that. It's how Rhett knows they need sugar without seeing the list.

The only reason Bobby starts allowing those damned "Easy to make" boxes into the house is because Rhett genuinely gets a little upset. He wants to help bake so bad, but he messes up the recipe every time :( The only thing he can make is in the pre-made box mixes. The breaking point is when he realizes he misunderstood Bob's instruction and put too much flour, thus forcing them to remake the entire thing. He sat in the corner of the couch, face hidden in his knees, misty-eyed as he kept apologizing for always messing it up.

"The only thing I can make is in them boxes," he chokes, squeezing his knees in a little tighter, "but you don't like those."

But Bobby does like those; he just didn't see the point in buying them when he could make a better version from scratch. So now it's a mix of both. Bobby's got his homemade recipes that have trickled down his family for generations, and Rhett gets to make those boxcakes and treats so that he doesn't feel so left out.

He still draws the line at those damn store-bought icings. He'll help Rhett make those from scratch every time because he cannot stand those damn things. It's an easy compromise; Rhett always gets food coloring on him and spends the rest of his day elaborately colored.

He absolutely does fold for those seasonal cookies; it's the one recipe he can't fully nail; for every attempt, there is a box and a cowboy on standby, snacking on the chocolate chips that he was supposed to stay out of. The assistance tax, he calls it 🍪

[exactlycleverpirate]

Rafayel's Timeline Redux Part 6

Spoilers below.

See Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 7.

Rafayel and MC are reunited as adults on her 99th attempt to escape the palace. They meet several times and grow close.

There are other Lemurians on Philos with Rafayel,  including Amund. They are killing human nobles, with the belief that by doing so, it will help restore the oceans and Lemuria.

MC: “Why do Lemurians need to kill humans? Revenge?” Rafayel: “Your Highness and I know revenge is meaningless. The seas are but sands for 30,000 years. We only want one thing.” MC: “The Lemurians want to go home?” Rafayel: “...Yes. We must awaken the seas and return to our homeland.”

MC can use a Lemurian Fishtail Beacon to summon Rafayel.

Rafayel and Amund are plotting to recover “the God of the Sea’s (Rafayel’s) heart from MC by cutting it out with a dagger on the Island of Songs. However, the heart must be given willingly. Rafayel is uncertain whether the legends are true about killing MC to restore the oceans and Lemuria. Per the legend, the goal seems to be attaining Absolute Power. 

According to the legend, “Lemurians who seeketh Absolute Power: Combat the treacherous tides. Dive into The Deep for pearls. Find a true love. When blessed with a true love’s kiss, claim her heart by your own hand. A heart, pure, flawless-and filled with love. It is the best offering humans can give to Lemurians. -Lemurian Ruins, Slate No. 0065, Lemuria: Tome of the Sea God”. 

(Amund has served multiple Gods of the Sea over the centuries. Are these all reincarnations of Rafayel or are there multiple Gods of the Sea?)

6 months after Rafayel and MC celebrate her birthday, he and Amund take her to the Island of Songs (now no longer an island), which she recognizes. She remembers her past life with Rafayel and realizes that Rafayel will fall into eternal slumber and the seas will never be restored if she does not return his heart. She offers to cut it out, but Rafayel refuses, saying he and the Lemurians will have to find their own way to change the story. He attempts to erase her memories and sever their bond to save her. Rafayel calls her his beloved bride.

Rafayel's flames are black because his power is dying.

“The black flames don’t flicker. They burn silently like the man who lit them. No energy, no warmth, and no hope in sight.” (This is similar to how Rafayel describes being trapped on the beach to MC in Nightly Stroll: “No way out, no hope, and waiting to die.”)

Rafayel: “The…seas will dry up.” MC: “Anything else?” Rafayel: “When the God of the Sea is revived, the seas will awaken. To take back what he’s lost, the God of the Sea must kill his beloved.”

Rafayel: “A god must protect his followers. If the legend pertaining to the God of the Sea is inevitable…”

Rafayel: “Shouldn’t the God of the Sea himself change the story?”

Rafayel: “If the ending is fixed, let us start anew and be rid of this tale.”

Rafayel: “Lemurians must rewrite their own story, with their own hands.”

Rafayel: “Goodbye, my beloved bride.”

Continue to Part 7.

[sevensoulmates]

https://www.tumblr.com/sevensoulmates/748150924126666752/deeper-depths-of-his-queer-love-the-realization

See I both love this and hate it. Love it because it’s very well thought out. And this so many details. But I hate it because realistically I just don’t see the show going to a 10th season so if they don’t actually get together until 9b, assuming the show stays at its 18 episode count, we’d get 9 episodes of them together and that’s it. And after all these years of waiting that is just… not enough time and would start to feel to much like a oh well it was the end of the show so what do we have to lose here ya go.

Maybe I would've agreed with you just after season 6 ended and the announcement of a shift to ABC. I might've thought then they don't have many seasons left but I've changed my mind about that over the last few months since they started heavily promoting season 7. ABC said that they want to keep 911 going as long as they can, and they even said they want to continue making spin-offs like Lonestar (hopefully better than Lonestar) in different cities in the U.S. That doesn't sound like a network that wants to cut 9-1-1 off after season 9.

I'm sorry but a network that approved Grey's Anatomy to have 20+ seasons is ABSOLUTELY gonna approve 9-1-1, their number one money maker right now, to have 10+ seasons. I'm fully expecting to get to AT LEAST season 12, and I'm being so fucking serious.

ESPECIALLY if 9-1-1 actually follows through with the groundwork they're setting up right now with Buck and Eddie. I'm not kidding when I say, if you feed your fanbase they'll keep coming back for more for the rest of time like a feral cat to your house after you feed them. Once people catch wind that buddie went canon, they're gonna be throwing money at ABC so fast that ABC just might approve an additional 3 seasons right then and there.

As for the second part of your question, no. I don't think the show would just throw buddie at us at the end to "throw us a bone" once the show's slated to end for real. If they didn't do that at Fox when they had a real chance of wrapping it up for good, they're not gonna do that with ABC. "What do we have to lose" doesn't feel like the right mindset here. If that was the case, they never would've had Buck come out in early season 7. That was their riskiest first step, and it paid off, and now they have proof that they have SO MUCH to gain if they actually explore these stories organically with enough time to feel satisfied. So, no, I don't think we're just gonna get them shoved into the end with no development.

And I also just think that this fandom and casual viewers/journalists too, vastly underestimate how much these writers care about these characters and the story they're telling here. Yes, I do think that some of the writers have shown biases (KR) and have made some missteps in handling storylines, but again, they're beholden to a whole chain of bosses and external circumstances. BUT I think at the core, this show WOULD NOT EVER have been so beloved by many if the writers did not CARE about these characters deeply. So no, I don't think the writers would just "throw" anything at these characters just to placate viewers unless they really think it's necessary or works for the character arc. Yes, that includes things like Marisol and Natalia or "Shoehorned in" plots. I think the writers do their best to do right by these characters to the best of their ability. And I think that's so INCREDIBLY rare both in the past and currently.

So yeah, sometimes the writers make mistakes or don't handle plots the best in certain circumstances but when it comes to the bigger picture I never once questioned that they care and want to give these characters the best they're capable of.

[bonemarble]

i really wish leah being on the verge of death and being left with little adult memories after bran turned her wasn't such a truncated concept in the novels. i don't know how much of the symbolism was intended by briggs, i wonder how thoroughly she envisioned the implications descending from the clear parallelisms she created between leah's turning and charles's birth. in wild sign bran tells the story of how he came to leah and sherwood while mad with grief for the death of blue jay woman, caused by her draining herself of her life to fuel charles's. charles immediately recognises that the situation in which bran finds leah and his brother is the same:

this is interesting for a couple of reasons. supernatural turnings (whether into a werewolf, a vampire, or whatever) always read as figurative rebirths to me: you go through something that transforms you so completely you have to wonder if what's left is still you at all or something else has taken your place. here the analogy seems to be even more pointed. briggs is telling us that symbolically leah's turning was a do-over of charles's birth, one that could be successful in both saving the person providing energy for the birth and in creating someone whose existence was not marked by killing a loved one as a first act. curiously, in this parallel leah (the new wife) does not occupy the place of blue jay woman (the previous wife). rather that place of a beloved "giving birth" is taken by bran's brother, who is the first initiating this process of transformation for leah and tying his life to hers.

bran does with him what he could not do with blue jay, he "joins" the process and completes her delivery. figuratively, leah holds charles's place in the scheme: that of the new creature being delivered. that she emerges from the process as a sort of blank slate, holding few memories of her prior self, cements this reading. bran's "dominance" and sheer power, especially once he starts becoming the marrok, color any relationship he has with a power imbalance and in a strictly patriarchal society (such as the one briggs builds for werewolves) a husband owns a wife as much as a father owns a daughter. but despite her physical age, leah's mental age and bran's role of guide, protector, and absolute authority in her life make her in many ways substantially closer to a daughter than to a partner - even if no one (much less leah herself) recognises this truth.

[dungeonmastersconsortium]

what is the reasoning behind putting something that absolutely ignores mechanics in a system that's all about defined mechanics? if you want to play powered by the apocalypse go play pbta or whatever? stop trying shoehorn in shit that doesn't belong in D&D

I'm gonna do my best to take this question and answer it in good faith.

The system/subsystem I'm working on is to include a combination of things that are COMMON and beloved by many in fantasy, but ESPECIALLY Heroic Fantasy: someone pushing beyond their normal limits in order to accomplish a goal when everything else looks bleak. When a character says "fuck the consequences, I have no other choice," whether through desperation, anger, determination, etc. These are almost ALWAYS accompanied by long term consequences for that character.

In D&D games like mine that are just as much about the storytelling as the mechanical gameplay, it SUCKS when your dice have done nothing but betray you, for instance. There are plenty of REAL LIFE examples of stuff like this happening as well: real life people have found themselves capable of feats that they can't replicate afterward and had never done beforehand, because the situation was so desperate.

I'm not saying the system I'm working on is right for every table, not by a long shot. But there IS precedent for similar mechanics. The (slightly controversial) madness mechanic in 5e is an example.

My players, for instance, I know for a fact would avoid using this system unless things were truly desperate for their character. And I'm not saying this system even allows someone to say "I do this and it's perfectly successful." If it's a big ask, it might simply be impossible. If it's very difficult, they might be able to mostly succeed on their goal or they might have a monkey's paw version of a success.

The mechanic isn't intended for "I kill the BBEG." It's not for an extended, complex task. But if a character is standing next to someone they love and they can see someone pointing a crossbow at them, I would enjoy my players having the option to have a minor heroic moment of taking a shot for that person, or for a sorcerer to be able to push their powers beyond their normal limit when things are looking at their darkest, even knowing there will be some severe long term consequences.

My players LOVE D&D 5e. We love the mechanics in it. But we also love good narrative and storytelling, and as a DM I'm confident in my improvisation skills, I can handle it. My players also know if I have a blank slate of "Ellie can really fuck with my character if I do this" (in a good natured way) it's only to be used VERY sparsely.

In short: We WANT to play 5e D&D. We just want to add some narrative choice and flavoring that doesn't exist in the base rules.