#storm italian version

[fishareglorious]

Have no idea why Schneider keeps calling Sonetto ‘old woman’ but it is kind of funny though.

Girlie I am pretty sure you are older than her!

[lovecanyon]

CHEF!Y/N!!!!!!���‍🍳

INSTAGRAM BLURB

chef!y/n x harry styles

MASTERLIST | PATREON

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capocuoca94 = y/n’s private instagram / translated from italian: chef

y/n’s owned restaurant’s instagram

italian / appassionati di pasta = english / pasta lovers

**

liked by harryfan2, harryfan6 and 309,763 others

harryflorals HARRY AND CHEF Y/N L/N OUT IN LA TODAY!

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harryfan9 his white mercedes 😫

harryfan7 WHO?!?!??!

harryfan5 isn’t y/n in charge of the tour catering?

harryfan3 i believe so

harryfan10 omg harry might be dating a chef

harryfan8 i’m going to need someone to do a background check on her 😭

harryfan4 SHUT UP

harryfan11 y/n’s instagram is private…

harryfan15 and everyone follows her including anne…

harryfan17 i fear he’s not single anymore

harryfan12 she probably cooks pasta for him 🙂

harryfan19 SO YOU'RE TELLING ME HARRY MIGHT HAVE A CHEF GIRLFRIEND

harryfan14 harry goes to y/n’s restaurants all the time too

harryfan16 news of the century

harryfan18 why do i love them already…

harryfan20 now i’m crying

harryfan13 HE’S NOT SINGLE ANYMORE?

liked by capocuoca94, harrystyles and 752,814 others

pillowpersonpp I love my personal chef 🍽

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harryfan21 OH MY GOD

harryfan23 why is y/n so gorgeous 🙃

capocuoca94 you are my favorite person ever

pillowpersonpp I am so honored ❤️

harryfan27 if sarah is besties with y/n then that means…her and harry are definitely together

paulithepsm the only chef i know

harryfan24 y/n is everyone’s favorite 😭

harry_lambert one of the best cooks in the world

harryfan29 the way harry liked this right when sarah posted it

harryfan22 he’s down bad for y/n

mollyjane_x she’s the best company 💖

harryfan25 i really want the news of y/n being harry’s girlfriend to be true 🙏

_basselin the mother to all foods

harryfan23 i better not see anyone hating on y/n

brittany_broski I LOVE HER

harryfan26 this will keep me up at night

anthonypham y/n makes the greatest food ever!!!

liked by harrystyles, stevienicks and 281,362 others

appassionatipasta Founded in 1948, the L/N’s shared their gracious and delicious Italian food to the Amalfi Coast. Not even three years later they decided to grow their business and open restaurants all over Italy. Now seven decades later, great-granddaughter Y/N L/N runs her family owned business. Labeled the best female chef by Vogue, Y/N continues to take the world by storm as she opens up restaurants around the world. Learn more about the L/N family on our website.

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harryfan30 i totally love that y/n is a chef

harryfan34 Y/N HONESTLY IS A GIRLBOSS!!!

harrystyles Truly one of the best restaurants ever.

harryfan37 harry really loves y/n if he commented this…

harryfan32 he’s supportive :,)

alessandro_michele delizioso!!!! ❤️

harryfan31 harry’s comment has me on the floor

mitchrowland my favorite spot to eat at

harryfan39 i am now a y/n fan

annetwist love visiting this place 🤍

harryfan33 “labeled the best female chef by vogue” THAT’S RIGHT

kidharpoon please open a restaurant in la!!!

appassionatipasta Hmm should we?

harryfan35 PLEASE DO

glenne_azoff y/n is one of the most talented chefs

harryfan35 i wonder if she makes harry food…

harryfan38 don’t put that idea into my head 😭

pillowpersonpp i love the l/n’s 🥰

liked by harryfan42, harryfan45 and 408,962 others

lotupdates Y/N L/N with a fan backstage who she brought to cook with her!

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harryfan40 SHE IS SO COOL WHAT THE HELL

harryfan43 i want to be the fan

harryfan47 y/n is the coolest girl harry has ever dated in his life

harryfan49 this!!!!

harryfan41 literally the girl version of harry

harryfan46 the matching aprons are so cute 😫

harryfan44 i wonder if y/n finna be in the pit

harryfan48 i love her so much for this

harryfan50 hate y/n all you want but her doing this just shows us how nice she is

harryfan52 this is the sweetest thing ever

harryfan55 okay but y/n is so gorgeous

harryfan51 y/n brought her backstage because she was an aspiring chef 😭

harryfan53 her cooking with a harrie is so sweet

harryfan56 such a cute moment

harryfan58 this made me love her

harryfan54 Y/N SUPREMACY

liked by harryfan57, harryfan60 and 402,916 others

stylesdaily UNSEEN OF HARRY AT Y/N’S RESTAURANT LAST YEAR IN ITALY!

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harryfan62 him and y/n have been a thing for that long?!

harryfan65 MUSTACHERRY 🧎‍♀️

harryfan67 he’s friends with her staff…SOBBING

harryfan61 harry really is a big fan of y/n huh

harryfan63 she has him in a chokehold 😫

harryfan66 so this basically means harry knew y/n last year…

harryfan68 going feral for him

harryfan64 i love harry with a mustache

harryfan69 “last year” WHAT 😭

harryfan71 he’s so cute

harryfan74 we got you on camera @harrystyles

harryfan76 i live for unseens of harry 🙏

harryfan70 HE WAS AT Y/N’S RESTAURANT LAST YEAR?

harryfan79 harry in italy is always the best

harryfan72 MUSTACHE HARRY MUSTACHE HARRY MUSTACHE HARRY

liked by capocuoca94, harrystyles and 902,751 others

harry_lambert Chef Y/N L/N for Better Homes & Gardens. Styled by Alessandro Michele and I.

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harryfan73 SHE’S SO HOT

harryfan75 4 + 4 = 8

harrystyles One of the most attractive women in the world.

capocuoca94 why thank you h!

harryfan77 THE CASUAL FLIRTING HAS ME CRYING 😭

emmalouisecorrin the most gorgeous girl

harryfan80 y/n literally slayed

alessandro_michele was so excited for this release!

harryfan82 harry is the luckiest man in the world

pillowpersonpp I LOVE THIS SO MUCH ❤️

harryfan85 y/n and harry flirting in a comment section is the definition of true love

harris_reed she was born to be on a magazine cover

harryfan87 i don’t know if i want to be y/n or be with her

glenne_azoff y/n looks so good!!!

harryfan81 literally on my knees for her

mollyjane_x i’ve been waiting for this 🥰

liked by harrystyles, kidharpoon and 307 others

capocuoca94 mama we did it!

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_basselin GORGEOUS GORGEOUS GIRL

emmalouisecorrin you did it y/n ❤️

harrystyles I love you my baby, I am so proud of you.

capocuoca94 i really love you more sue

harry_lambert best photoshoot ever 🥰

pillowpersonpp i need a poster size of this

jefezoff they had to put one of the bests chefs on their magazine cover!

alessandro_michele glad to be apart of this 😇

annetwist congratulations beauty, you truly deserved it!

capocuoca94 thank you ms. anne 💖

mitchrowland beignets?! don’t get me excited y/n

paulithepsm best cover ever

glenne_azoff i’m so obsessed with this

alexachung amazing! amazing! amazing!

gemmastyles you are seriously so beautiful, congrats on your cover darling

florencepugh GOD IS A WOMAN

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tag list: @harrysmatcha @harryspinkpillow @helen-with-an-a @florencepughily @peterparkerbae @toji-dabi-wife @fallonx @drphilssoulmate @cherriesrae @alienorknight @valluvsu @ivegotparticulartaste @ayeshathestyles @hazgoldenstyles @eiffelmezarry @tsukishimawhore @renatavieira @michellekstyles @eleanordaisy @shawnsblue @academiaghosts @japanchrry @agustdpeach @hannahnikohl @whoscamila @ch3rryrry @msolbesg @seguin-styles1996 @futuristicpalacegardenpsychic @youusunshineyoutemptress @eunoiamaa @kaitieskidmore1 @cherryfragrancx @ssuziess @milkiane @golden-hoax @flwrmuse @sunshinemendes8 @your--sweetest--downfall @melllinaa @iluvjj @tenaciousperfectionunknown @cashtons-wife @stellarossii @scenesofobx @manifestrry @lomlolivia

[kydrogendragon]

Hi! I was thinking about Dream dating Hob because a wager with Death. Time passes, Hob can't believe Dream is interested in him/his experiences, but he is so happy, he has so much to live for. Until he finds out about the wager and... He is ok with that! He tells Dream that he thinks they made the wager because Dream was lonely, and it's ok because he was lonely, too. But Dream doesn't hear him, he is so offended, he says "You dare..." and he storms out. Time passes again and, I don't know, there is a happy ending, of course.

Third prompt for the day! This one was fun to write. I feel like it could easily be it's own multi-chapter fic cause it's a real fun concept, but alas, I have too many wips as is, so we'll take the bite-size version :P

Thanks for the request!!

Relationship: Hob/Dream Words: 2293 Warnings: None Ao3 Link

“You know, your sister told me about the wager,” Hob says, looking down into his water glass. Tonight was he and Dream’s six month anniversary. They’re tucked into the back corner booth of the Italian restaurant just down the road from Hob’s own apartment. The place was a pricier one, yes, but Dream had talked about missing their carbonara last week and Hob wasn’t about to let his boyfriend suffer a moment longer without it.

Hob remembers when Dream first approached him in the White Horse back in June. He’d been relaxing with some of his coworkers, celebrating the end of term a bit late, when the most breathtakingly pretty man approached their table. He looked like he’d stepped out of some sort of fantasy novel, like he was the Fae Prince himself. And then those icy blue eyes of his met Hob’s and Hob knew he was done for.

Dream had asked if Hob meant it when he’d claim to know true love the moment he first saw them. Hob had just smiled and said yes. Because he did. And the moment he and Dream’s eyes locked, Hob knew that he was going to love that man. Hob said just as much, which earned him a hearty eye roll at the time. But Dream had said he’d meet him there, at the White Horse, again next week if he’d meant it.

So, of course, Hob had gone back in a week’s time and found the handsome man sitting near the fireplace, nursing a glass of wine. They’d chatted, well, Hob chatted, Dream listened. Hob went on and on about his life, his work. He talked about his friend and family, about his childhood and the new TV show he’s been obsessed with. Then Dream asked him, a few hours later, if he still meant it. If he still thought Dream was his true love.

And Hob said yes.

They continued meeting once a week, which shortly turned to twice a week, then sometimes even sooner, depending on each other’s schedules. Most of the time, they met up someplace in the city for dinner or drinks. Dream had taken him out to the park to feed the birds, which quickly became a common date for them. Then, Hob invited Dream back to his, and Dream said yes. They didn’t do much, just relaxed, watched a movie and ordered take-out, but it was a change in their dynamic. And over the course of those few months, Hob could see Dream relaxing more and more.

The Fae-like man had always seemed overly tense. He carried a weight in his shoulders and his stance that looked just moments away from crushing him. Hob had resolved himself to doing whatever he could to ease some of that stress away from him. And over time, it seemed to work.

The first time Dream had kissed him, Hob thought he’d died and gone to heaven. It was a hesitant thing. They’d been relaxing on Hob’s couch as they had for week by this point. Perhaps they’d had a few more glasses of wine between them than they usually would and maybe sharing a blanket was just an excuse to be close to one another. Dream had turned to him with a look in his eyes that Hob had seen many times before. It glinted with fear, but hope. Then Dream leaned in, slowly, giving time for Hob to back away. Then those rosebud colored lips were finally on his own and it was wonderful. Hob was addicted in just one go.

They didn’t kiss much after, much to Hob’s disappointment, but the times they had felt like magic, but that kiss changed their dynamic. Hob found that Dream was more open to hugs or cuddles in the evening afterwards. He’d even gotten the man to lie his head on Hob’s lap which quickly became a favored position. Hob loved it too. It gave him a chance to just run his fingers through that kitten soft black hair of his. Then six months had passed which felt like forever and also no time at all. If Hob ever doubted his love for this man before, these past months solidified it.

Dream’s sister, Death (a very odd name, but his boyfriend’s name was Dream so who was he to judge?), had tracked him down at the White Horse a week back, which is how he’d found out about their initial wager. She hadn’t told him intentionally. She’d assumed Dream had explained things (he hadn’t) so she’d taken the liberty to explain the situation.

Hob’s pretty sure she thought he’d be angry about it. And yeah, sure, it was a bit of a surprise to hear that Dream had only continued to meet with him after that night because of a dare. But the more he thought about it, the less he really cared. It brought Dream into his life, after all. How could he be mad about that?

Dream looked up at him from over the top of the fancy leather menu, his eyes wide. Hob shot him a smile to try and ease whatever thoughts are running through his boyfriend’s mind. Dream looks back down and slowly closes the menu, setting it in front of him on the white linen tablecloth. He takes a breath before he speaks.

“And what did she say of the wager?” His shoulders are pulled back and his face is carefully masked. Hob knows this posture well. He’s preparing himself to be hurt. The notion makes Hob’s heart ache, so he extends his hand, tilting it upwards just in front of Dream. He doesn’t reach for it, though Hob can see his gaze dart to his open palm.

“Well,” Hob starts, tilting his head down to try and see Dream’s face better. “She said you two overheard me and my boasting that night at the pub. She also said she thought maybe I’d fall in love with you at first sight, which you apparently, and I quote, rolled your eyes so hard she thought they’d get lost in your head.”

Dream rolls his eyes, but Hob spots the twitch of a smile. “She said you thought that was ridiculous and that even if I thought you were striking, I’d soon grow tire of you.” His voice trailed off, softening at the end. Dream swallows, his jaw clenching. It was a fear of his, Hob knew. Dream never said so, not in so many words, but he said it through his actions. Through his carefully constructed face of neutrality, through the fear and the hope that radiates from his eyes when he does something he thinks Hob would dislike. In all the small actions and tentative steps, Dream’s made very clear the fears inside his heart and Hob’s sworn to himself to love each fear away.

“And have you?” Dream asks, his voice quiet.

“No. Never. Told you, one look and I know. I knew. That night, I knew.” Hob replies instantly. He can see the slight shimmer of a tear down Dream’s cheek as he closes his eyes. Dream remains, stiff in his chair, hands in his lap. “I’m glad you made that wager. That your sister made you keep hanging out with me, dating me. I think it’s been good, for both of us. I think… I think maybe she pushed you towards me cause you were lonely. That you needed someone to show you you were worthy of love.”

Dream’s eyes dart to his, a mix of surprise and fury in his face. He’d seen many emotions from his boyfriend over the past six months but anger was rarely one of them. Frustration, irritation, sure, but the way his lip is snarling and his nostrils are flaring, this is true anger. Hob shifts, lifting his hands up in a placating gesture. He rewinds the conversation, combing through each sentence trying to figure out what it was that earned him such a reaction.

“You dare?” Dream spits. “You dare to know how I feel? You dare to claim that you know me? To know my heart so?”

Hob blinks. “Yes,” he replies, utterly confused at how this conversation has so drastically shifted. “Yes, I do.” Dream huffs as he tosses the napkin in his lap on the table and stands. Hob’s up on his feet as Dream stalks away, following after him. “Dream!” He calls after, weaving between the tables and the onlookers. He was suddenly glad that their waiter had been taking a while to get to them.

Dream storms out the doors into London’s pouring rain. He stomps down the sidewalk as Hob rushes after. For as thin as the man was, he walked faster than Hob would have expected. “Dream, Jesus, just-just wait, please!” He calls against the rain. His boyfriend’s steps stutter, and it gives Hob just enough time to close the distance. He grabs onto his shoulder and spins the other man to face him.

His inky black hair is soaked already, just seconds into the downpour. Hob doubts he’s much better. It sticks to his pale skin. The rain coats him completely, Dream’s eyeliner already beginning to run. Hob feels the flutter of adrenaline under his skin, afraid that one wrong move and he’ll lose this dramatic wet cat of a man that he so desperately loves. He needs to tackle his carefully, thoughtfully. Hob needs to treat Dream with a calm hand and a gentle touch.

“What are you so afraid of?”

Not what he should have said. Dream’s brows furrow, the scrunch of his nose and the sneer of his lips already beginning to paint his face. Hob tightens his grip on his shoulder, his other hand moving to hold Dream’s wrist. Dream tugs, but Hob doesn’t relent. He stares into Dream’s reddened eyes as he speaks.

“We’ve been dating for six months now. Today’s our anniversary, in case you didn’t know. And maybe I don’t know you completely, but I feel like I’ve got a pretty damn good grasp on you. I know that you hate the mornings, not because it’s early, but because your favorite bookshop doesn’t open until ten. I know that you take your coffee with more sugar and milk in it than actual coffee, but you’ll drink it black in the presence of others because you think it looks better. I know you choose each word you speak with such a meticulous nature than I can’t even begin to fathom because words are important and they mean a lot to you. I know you worry about the amount of bread the pigeons and ducks in the park eat, which is why you always make sure to get the special feed mix from the farm supply shop, even though it’s a half hour drive to get to. I know that you overthink each action you take because you’re afraid of how I’ll react. And I know, from tonight, you think that if you push me away first, then you think it might not hurt as bad as if I pushed you away instead.

“But guess what, Dream? I’m not letting you go. Not if you don’t want me to. Not if you love me even just a sliver as much as I love you. Cause I do. I love you, Dream. Have since that day you first walked up to me. Told you that. It hasn’t changed. If anything, I’ve just fallen even harder for you since. So you can yell at me, you can push me away, but I’ll still be here. Forever loving you. Just like I promised you six months ago.”

Dream stares at him, the anger falling from his face and morphing into a pained expression as Hob talks. The adrenaline has started to fade from his veins, leaving Hob tired and shaky. Dream doesn’t say a word, he just stares and with each passing second, fear begins to creep in. Is this how it was going to end? Six months in and that’s it, all because Hob dared to say he understood the man in front of him.

Then lips are on his and there’s a pair of hands clinging to the flaps of his jacket, pulling him ever closer. Hob melts into the kiss, his hands falling to Dream’s waist. It’s an awkward kiss, their noses are jammed against each other, but his body is warm against Hob’s and he’s holding him close and Hob hasn’t lost Dream. That’s the most important thing.

They part, panting against each other in the pouring rain. Dream’s icy blue eyes peer into Hob’s. He’s so close. He can make out all the individual lines of color in Dream’s irises. He can see rough edges of his eyeliner and the bits of mascara that cling to his lashes. He is a work of art, not that Hob’s ever thought otherwise, but here, as the golden glow of the restaurant’s lights reflect against the trails of tears and raindrops against his pale skin, Hob wishes he could take a picture and keep it forever.

“You are a ridiculous man, Robert Gadling. Impertinent. Foolish,” Dream whispers against his lips. “You could have anyone.”

“I could,” Hob replies. He moves one hand up, cupping Dream’s cheek. He rubs his thumb across the chilled skin. “But I want you.”

“A terrible choice,” Dream says, kissing him once more. Hob’s eyes drift shut as he loses himself to the warmth of soft lips dancing with his own. They’ve a long way to go, Hob thinks to himself. But he’s a hopeful man and a determined one. And he plans to spend as many lifetimes with this ridiculous man in his arms as he possibly can.

[zoestormwriting]

Cover reveal and release details!

[Image description: The cover of the book THE ENCHANTED FOREST AND OTHER STORIES: FIVE TALES OF GENDER MAGIC by Zoe Storm. The cover depicts a person seen from behind walking on a forest path. The person has brown hair, is wearing a beige beanie and an orange jacket, and has a blue backpack on their shoulder; the forest is dark and foreboding. The title of the book is written in white capital letters on the top part of the cover, and the author's name, also in white capital letters, is at the bottom. End ID.]

Presenting: the cover of my new book, The Enchanted Forest and Other Stories: Five Tales of Gender Magic!

Look at it! It's super good!

The book is also super good, I promise! (Though I may be biased, since I'm the author and all, lol.) And, what would you know, the ebook version of my latest offering can be preordered NOW from various websites!

You can pick the online store of your choosing by following this here link. And, if you prefer your online store to be of the itch.io flavour, I've got you covered: you can find the book right here.

The e-book version of this book will be released on all storefronts on December 24th, 2023, just in time for Christmas!

But wait, there's more! There's also a paperback version coming from Amazon, which cannot unfortunately be pre-ordered but which will be released on December 17th! Watch this space, I will post here when it's released.

But wait, there's more! For the first time ever, one of my books will be released in a language other than English, in this case Italian! The release dates for the e-book and the paperback will be the same, and the e-book can be pre-ordered from these links: itch.io, and other storefronts.

I've given it my all to bring this book to y'all, and I hope you like it! ❤️

[ramblingoak]

Tell Him

Mushy May in Lucifer's Hollow: Day 12 - First Time

Secondo x Dewdrop

This fic is set in an alternate universe in a town called Lucifer's Hollow. It's sort of like a Satanic version of a Hallmark town. For Mushy May I'll be using the prompts to post little snippets of life for the humans and ghouls that live there 💙 Thank you to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together!

~ In Lucifer's Hollow Secondo is the Fire Chief and Dewdrop teaches art at the high school. ~

Warnings: this ended up being the first time Secondo says a few certain words so there's angst and love confessions and then some smut at the end...anal sex, fingering, a bit of cum play and a dash of size kink, nsfw, 18+ only mdni, 2,600 words (thank you to @ghuleh-recs for the dividers!)

It had been a long time since Secondo had tried to woo anyone.

For one thing, he barely had time for himself let alone a partner.  Lucifer’s Hollow might be a small town but it was big enough to keep him busy as the Fire Chief.  A day could include anything from your typical accident to a fire ghoul kit still getting the hang of their element.  He always did his best to keep his crew and his hometown safe but sometimes that meant sacrificing the free time he had.  The free time he could use to focus on someone else.

Dewdrop was the one to make him change his ways.

From the moment he had met the little fire ghoul, his fuocolino, Secondo knew he was worth it.  Worth rushing through his paperwork at the end of his shift, worth taking a little extra care of himself on calls and worth the grief he got from his brothers whenever he skipped their weekly game nights.  He would do all of that and more for Dewdrop, anything to show him how much he meant to him. 

“You should tell him.”  

“Tell who what?”  Secondo squinted at his computer screen as he checked over his supply order.  “Get your feet off my desk.”

“Dewdrop.”  Terzo leaned back in his chair, the legs creaking as he balanced it on two legs.  His expensive Italian shoes knocked into a framed picture on Secondo’s desk earning the younger man a glare.  “You should tell him how you feel.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bugiardo.”

“Fine.  Even if I did feel a particular way about him it’s none of your business.”  Liar?  Terzo was lucky Secondo had tweaked his back earlier that morning otherwise his little brother would be laid out on the floor.  “Put your fucking feet down.”

Terzo ignored him, instead knocked his shoe against the frame again.

“Whose picture is in this?”  The longer Secondo remained silent the bigger Terzo’s smile got.  “Why do I have the feeling it’s not one of your brothers?”

“Another thing that’s none of your business.”  When Terzo tapped the frame and started to turn it towards him he leveled a glare on his little brother that would have made anyone else run.  “If you have even an ounce of self preservation you will stop.”

“Oh fratello, sometimes I feel like you don’t know me at all.”  In a flash Terzo knocked the picture frame off his desk.  Secondo was out of his chair before the front legs of Terzo’s hit the floor but he was still too late to stop him from grabbing the frame off the ground and holding it up with a triumphant shout.  “Ah ha!  What a lovely couple you two ma–cazzo!”

He winced at the sound the glass in the frame made when it hit the tile after slapping it out of Terzo’s hands.  His arms were soon full of the mayor of Lucifer’s Hollow, easily dragging him from his office and out into the hallway.  He nodded at Cirrus when the pair passed her, ignoring her laughter as she followed them until they got to the large open garage door of the station.  With a shove far more gentle then he felt Terzo deserved he left him out in the driveway cursing up a storm.

After directing Aether to call Special to come pick up his boss, Secondo made his way back to his office.  With the door safely closed and locked behind him he stepped over to the frame, slowly kneeling down to pick it up.  His back protested the entire time, each twinge of pain telling him his night would now involve little more than pain killers and his heat pad.

He sighed when he turned it over, pieces of glass left behind on the floor.  Tomorrow he’d have to stop by GraveYarns for a new frame.  Secondo shook the rest of the glass out and then popped the back open so he could remove the picture.  It was a recent one, taken at this year’s high school graduation.  Primo had asked him to make the commencement speech so he had been decked out in his dress uniform.  He had even worn the old Papal face paint his family used to wear in past generations.

The same paint that Secondo knew was smeared onto his fuocolino’s skin under the clothes he was wearing in the picture.  Black mouth prints from his neck to his nipples and down his stomach to his cock.  He loved worshipping Dewdrop, loved tasting his skin that was always warm and smelled slightly of smoke.  Loved getting him to make noises, everything from breathy gasps to desperate moans.  And he loved taking care of him when they were done, cleaning him and holding him for as long as Dewdrop would let him.

Terzo was right.

Fuck.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I told you, my ba–”

“Yeah, yeah I know old man.  You fucked your back up playing hero.”  

Secondo chose to ignore the ‘old man’ comment and remain silent.  Ever since his revelation in his office earlier that day he had been biting his tongue, afraid that he’d confess his feelings as soon as he opened his mouth.  It’s not that he didn’t want to tell Dewdrop, it was more he would much rather say it when he felt more confident his feelings were returned.  

It would hurt too much otherwise.

“I wasn’t playing hero.”  He spoke slowly, trying to choose his words carefully.  “I was just doing my job.”

“Well what the hell are the others there for?  Stand around and flirt with teachers?  That seems to be a skill firefighters excel at.”  Secondo grunted when Dewdrop pressed a little too hard on his back.  “Or maybe it’s just the Emeritus family.”

“A little of both perhaps.”  He should just tell him.  “I’m the best at it, of course.”

“Maybe not the best at it but you certainly have the best taste.  Now hold still so I can finish rubbing this in.”

“Is it supposed to smell like that?”  Just tell him.  “It smells like toothpaste.”

“Do you want to call Primo and complain about the smell?  Or should I?”

“Nevermind.”  Tell him.  “The smell is fine.”

“How does it feel though?  Is it helping?”

“Did I say it wasn’t?”  Say it.  “It’s fine.”

“Don’t get bitchy with me, I’m just trying to help you.”

“I wasn't, I just don’t need all these damned questions.”  Tell.  Him.  “Leave it.”

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I’m supposed to shut the fuck up while I’m spending my evening helping my boyfriend.”  

Dewdrop growled as he moved off the bed, slamming the little jar of salve onto the nightstand.  Secondo could hear his tail swish back and forth through the air like it always did when the ghoul was angry.  He gritted his teeth as he rolled over, wanting to face him but also afraid to look.  There was no anger on his face though, instead he looked almost sad and it made Secondo’s heart clench.

“Fuocolino…”  Tell him.  “Mi disp–”

“No, don’t try to sweet talk me.”

“I was trying to apologize.”  Right now.  “If you’d just give me a moment.”

“Ok, fine.”  Dewdrop crossed his arms, glaring down at Secondo.  When the room remained quiet he quickly threw up his arms.  “I’m waiting!”

“I wanted to tell you…merda.”  

Fucking say it!

“Unbelievable.  And people say I’m emotionally constipated.”

“I am glad you’re here, I’m thankful that you’re here!”

And I love you.

“Why was that so fucking hard to say?”

“It wasn’t fuocolino, there's just something else I’d rather say.”

I love you so much.

“Then say it.”  Secondo could hear the worry creeping into Dewdrop’s voice.  The same tone he’d heard the few times he had to call him and tell him he’d been injured.  “Do you want to break up?”

“Che cosa?  No!”  I never want you to go.  “Why would you think that?”

“Because you’ve been short with me all night, like you don’t want to talk.  And then you say you need to tell me something but you can’t spit the fucking words out.  What the hell am I supposed to think?”

“I don’t want to break up with you.”

Ever.

“Then what the fuck is going on?!”

“I love you.”

The room was dead silent after those words left Secondo’s mouth.  Dewdrop’s tail was still and neither one of them seemed to breathe.  He was pretty sure his heart had even stopped, like it was waiting to see if it should bother beating again.  Fear started to grip him the longer Dewdrop stayed silent and he began thinking of something to say, anything to say to try and ease the hurt of the rejection he feared was coming.

“What did you say?”

With the smallest tendril of hope tingling in his chest Secondo tried to move closer to the other side of the bed.

“Fuocolino, I love you.”  He hissed when his back protested what he was doing but he was desperate to be near Dewdrop.  “Ti amo.”

Dewdrop immediately turned towards the nightstand and Secondo couldn’t breathe again.  He gasped in pain when he moved too much, falling onto his back and blinking up at the ceiling while spots danced in his vision.  It was probably a few minutes before he was able to collect himself but when he did it was to angry murmurs from the ghoul practically petting his chest.

“...I swear to Lucifer if you die on me right now I will go to Hell myself and drag your ass back here.  Satan’s dick what did Primo put in this fucking salve?!”

“Dewdrop, fuocolino, fermare.  Stop.”  The frantic touching ended but Dewdrop kept his hand over Secondo’s heart, needing to feel the reassurance of the steady beating.  He brought his own hand up to cover it, entwining their fingers together and squeezing Dewrdop’s hand tightly.  “I’m alright.”

“Say it again.”

“I’m alri–”

“Not that you stupid asshole.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

Secondo smiled, slipping his other hand up Dewdrop’s back and burying his fingers in his long hair.  With a few gentle tugs he got him to lower his face down so he could press their lips together.  It was a relatively chaste kiss, for them at least.  Dewdrop sucking on his tongue when he pressed it inside.  He ended the kiss sooner than he wanted but his back was still screaming at him so he was in no condition to let the kissing go any further.  

Dewdrop’s amber eyes were bright in the dim light of the room, staring unwaveringly into his own.  He couldn’t tell what the ghoul was thinking but the fact that he was still here, still clinging to him gave him hope.  

“I love you.”  The admission earned him a quick and dirty kiss before Dewdrop pulled away again.  Secondo watched him nibble at his bottom lip for a moment before he spoke.  “What is it?”

“Nothing.  I’m just thinking.”

“About what, fuocolino?”

“I was trying to decide if riding you would break your spine in half or not.”  There was humor in the ghoul’s eyes but Secondo could also see the tell tale signs of lust there.  “Maybe Primo has a salve for that.”

“Worth the risk.”

He attempted to bring Dewdrop’s mouth down to his again but the ghoul resisted.  Secondo just wanted to kiss him, even if it hurt at least the pain would distract him from the fact that Dewdrop hadn’t said those words back to him.  He knew enough of Dewdrop’s past to know those words would be hard for the ghoul to say.  And even if he never said them it wouldn’t change how Secondo felt.

“Wait, there was one more thing.”  Secondo let the hope build again as he watched his ghoul, his little flame take a deep breath.  “I love you too, old man.”

Everything was different now.

The words he had barely spoken to even family came easily to him.  Words he said every morning as he kissed Dewdrop awake.  Words he said throughout the day when the moment felt right.  And words he said at night, especially when he was buried inside of him like he was now.  His cock pulsed along with the beat of his heart as he ground his hips against Dewdrop’s.

“Ti amo.”

Italiano always felt more right in these moments, when their sweat was mingling on each other’s skin.  When they both sported marks from teeth and nails and claws.  Dewdrop was warm, he was so warm inside and out.  Even in the coldest days of winter when the old furnace in his house struggled to keep up.  And Secondo craved that warmth, he craved being surrounded by it.  He always longed to sink his cock into Dewdrop and feel him shake and shudder around him.

Sometimes Dewdrop struggled to say the words back but Secondo knew they were there.  He could see it in those amber eyes and he could feel it in every touch.  But tonight the words came out and Secondo swore he could see them ripple through the air between them.

“I love you.”  

Hearing them had Secondo moving again, practically folding the slender ghoul in half while he pushed in as deep as he could go.  He swore he could see himself moving there and he laid a hand on Dewdrop’s belly, wanting to feel it.  Wanting to feel it inside and out while he thrust his cock into him. 

There were no more words spoken.  Only the wet sounds of Secondo’s thrusts and both of their desperate moans filling the room.  It was possible Dewdrop muttered something in Ghoulish but the blood rushing in his head was too loud for Secondo to tell.  When the ghoul’s claws dug into his forearms he knew Dewdrop was close.  He picked up the pace, reveling in the sounds he was making underneath him.  The sounds he was looking forward to hearing for the rest of his life.

It was almost painful when he came, filling Dewdrop for the second time that night.  His ghoul came soon after, his cock spilling more cum all over his stomach and chest.  Secondo rubbed his hand through it and then brought it up to his mouth, dragging his tongue through the mess and managing a dirty laugh when Dewdrop made a wounded noise.

He stayed inside of him as long as he could but as he gently lowered Dewdrop’s legs he pulled out, his cock soft and covered in lube and cum.  Secondo rubbed at his stomach again while he watched his hole pulse, disappointed to see his cum dribbling out.  He used two fingers to press it back inside, groaning along with his ghoul as he did so.  Eventually Dewdrop’s tail came up and tugged at his wrist so he stopped, bringing his fingers up to his mouth to clean them off.

Secondo loved his fuocolino so much.  The way he tasted and smelled.  The noises he made when they were together like this.  But it was also so much more than that.  It was the little pictures Dewdrop would draw and sneak into his pants pocket before he left for work.  The proud texts he would get during the day of him showing off his students’ artwork.  He loved Dewdrop more than he could ever describe.

But he would spend the rest of his life trying. 

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

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More fics in the Tales From Lucifer's Hollow masterpost

[russolover]

Sweater Weather II

"Do you want to come inside for some tea? The rain is only getting worse, might as well warm yourself up"

She spoke almost inaudibly.

"Depends.. do you want me to stay?"

You turned your head only to be met with Crystal blue eyes already looking at you.

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want you to"

She spoke sincerely making your heart rate pick up again.

This was going to be a long night.

The 18 year old version of yourself would be surprised that you finally caved in and let your feelings take over, but the more you thought about what you were going to say the more nervous you got. You helped alessia bringt the tea over to the couch table while sitting down next to her. You watched as she tried the tea which was way too hot resulting in her scrunching her whole face.

"You're not very patient are you?" you teased as the blondes cheeks turned a crimson colour

"Not when it comes to tea" she chuckled as she leaned back on the couch

The silence between you two was comfortable, you listened to the heavy rain hammering against the window while your thoughts were running 100 miles an hour.

How were you about to explain that you actually didn't dislike her? In fact you liked her a lot, probably since your early uni days you just couldn't let her know. After all she choose to kiss your captain.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she spoke softly as she leaned her head onto the back of the couch and turned her body into your direction, signalling that all her attention was on you.

You mimicked her behaviour so you were in the same position as she was. The blonde kept holding eye contact which made your heart rate slowly pick up.

Even though it was already dark outside and the room was dimly lit, it seemed like her eyes were carrying so much light and warmth. You could get lost in those arctic blue eyes with no care in this world.

You were lying to yourself if you didn't feel the warmth in your stomach creeping up the longer you watched the Italian in front of you.

"I never hated you, I was just annoyed " you mumbled as you watched her listen intently

"Because of the championship?" she asked carefully, knowing it was a sore subject.

"No.. I mean the tackle was pretty nasty but I was so close to doing the same honestly" you laughed quietly

"Do you remember my farewell party?" you asked her as you grew more nervous by the second. She only nodded as you started picking the skin around your thumb to calm your rapidly beating heart.

You took a few deep breaths to muster up the courage but when alessia took your hand in hers your heart felt like it could explode.

"Don't do that, it will hurt later" she said quietly while trying to distract you by caressing your hand.

There was no denying anymore

Your whole heart was aching for alessia, not just for her touch but all these years you tried to hate her because you couldn't have her. And seeing someone else kiss her at your party, when all you wanted to do was spend time with her just made you shut down.

"Why did you ki-

You were interrupted by the sound of loud thunder before all the power went off. The storm seemed to cut all the electricity in the street. The blonde clutched your hand with hers as she looked somewhat terrified.

"Oh fantastic" you mumbled as you watched around the darkened room trying to find some light sources while alessia didn't let go of your hand

"You okay?" you asked softly looking into the direction of the blonde

"Yeah.. just got scared for a second" she said as she squeezed your hand

"Do you have any candles or flashlights?"

"The candles are in the second shelf to the right, I'll go get them"

"No I'll get them, you're already very clumsy on a bright day I don't want to know what would happen when the whole flat is pitch black"

You could hear alessia grumbling something which you choose to ignore as a smug smile graced your face. Once you've gotten the candles and lit a few of them, the whole room seemed much more comfortable. You sat back down next to the blonde with your newfound courage.

"So what were you saying?"

"Why did you kiss them?"

You watched alessia as her whole face turned into one of confusion.

"w-what?"

"why did you kiss my captain at the farewell party?" you asked as you tried to steady you racing heart

"Is that the reason you hated me all this time?"

"No- I-I mean- it's just-

"It was a stupid bet, I was drunk out of my mind while we were playing a game of beer pong and they won" she explained calmly as she watched you intently

"oh" you suddenly felt embarrassed for thinking that all these years alessia tried to make a move on your captain to mess with you, but she was just a drunk college kid.

"so no feelings?" you whispered

"no absolutely not" she replied in the same tone

You watched her as she sat crisscross next to you, her blonde hair falling perfectly onto her shoulders as those blue eyes you loved watched your every step. They started glistening even more due to the dim candle light which had you in awe. She was truly breathtaking.

"Why did the kiss bother you so much?" she asked as she kept eye contact

Now or never you thought.

"I just don't like seeing you kiss other people" you whispered almost inaudibly

A light smirk made its way on alessias face as she started blushing.

"Why is that?" she whispered as she pulled you into her direction so you were directly in front of her. Your face had never been that close to hers. Her perfume took over all your senses as your scanned her face. From her pretty blue eyes to her lightly painted strawberry flavoured lips everything was perfect. This girl was truly carved by greek gods.

"You know why" you whispered back as the blonde started smiling, her nose scrunching up making all your insides turn. You couldn't hold yourself back any longer.

"I actually-

You cut her off by placing your lips on hers taking in the strawberry flavour. The blonde sighed into the kiss as her hands made its way to your cheeks. You placed both of your hands on the backside of her thighs to pull her into your lap, never breaking the kiss. It seemed to grow only more passionate from there on as she started placing kisses on your jaw and all over your neck making you feel that warmth again.

Maybe it was the years of pining after her, or the room full of candles which finally made you confess your feelings. Whatever it was, you were glad it finally had happened. As you and alessia were still pretty indulged into each other, the both of you didn't realise that the power came back.

You two were interrupted by a sudden voice at the door.

"Less I saw the power was off in your street are-

You and alessia immediately broke apart as soon as you heard tooneys voice. The smirk on the brunettes face was as big as ever as she watched the two of you separate.

"what do we have here?" she laughed as she watched your kiss stained face turn into the same shade as alessias lipstick.

"tooney don't" alessia sighed as she fell back into the sofa

"Proper set the mood with all those candles" she laughed as alessia turned red

"i will pay you if you leave now" you exclaimed desperately which only made her laugh more

"don't worry I'll go now, just wanted to check up if less was alright but apparently you were already doing that.. have fun" she gave you one last smirk before she closed the door behind her.

You and alessia started laughing uncontrollably as soon as Ella left. The blonde looked at you with big eyes before trying to rub something off of your cheek.

"what are you doing?" you laughed trying to get her to stop

"you have kiss stains all over your face" she chuckled embarrassed

"I don't mind them"

Her blue eyes crinkled as she smiled at you. You took her hand in yours and placed a kiss on it before you intertwined them.

"Do you want to stay tonight?" the blonde asked as she made herself comfortable on your chest

"I'd love to less" you replied as you wrapped your arms around her placing one last kiss on the top of her head.

[nunalastor]

Beauty and the Beast AU

Lucifer as Beast

I've seen a few Beauty and the Beast Radioapple artworks, but with Al as the beast. Love those, can totally see why- BUT: Lucifer makes way more sense in my opinion. Due to his own hubris, he is cursed to live mangled and alone in his desolate castle, dragging down his staff (friends in this case) with him.

Alastor as Bell

Gotta clarify that, as with the Aladdin AU, Al would NOT be a damsel in distress. However, he absolutely would trade his life over to save his mother's. Lucifer would have to try REAL hard to woo Al after that one (though, compared to Vox, still probably an upgrade).

Vox as Gaston

C'mon, you know why. They both eat 5 dozen eggs a day; everyone knows this. Really though, creep factor wise, I'd say Val fits slightly better here. But his twink ass didn't make the cut, and we all know who actually has an Alastor obsession. Also makes sense to me that Vox would be the one with the influence to rile up the villagers to storm the castle and 'save' Al.

LeFou as Vox's Assistant

Naturally.

Lumiere as Angel

He makes for a great wingman. (And no, he does not know what the grey stuff is either. They found that shit at the bottom of the pantry.)

And he's Italian, not French; French people don't exist.

(we ignore Plumette's existance in this household because we like Huskerdust; or she can be Cherri and she and Angel are sick ass friends.)

Cogsworth as Husk

Mrs. Pots as Charlie?

Chip as Nifty? (a very, very cursed version of Chip)

Sultan (footstool dog) as Cursed Cat Alastor because why the fuck not

I still have not learned my lesson, and continue to make Disney AUs without having seen a Disney movie in years. As with everything else, I'm writing this at 3AM completely sleep deprived, and I'm pretty sure it shows.

-Tired Anon

👀

[harrisonarchive]

A style selection, 1956-1969.

A continuation of sorts from this post.

“[George’s] idea, which he ordered [in Liverpool in the 1950s], was a four-button jacket with cloth-covered buttons. Two breast pockets which were slitted (jetted) and in the shape of a bird in flight, the two side pockets corresponded. The cuffs had to be folded back with a cloth-covered button. His trousers had no pleats in the front, not normal in those days, and he was by far the very first person to have two slits at the bottom side seam of the trouser and he wanted them folded back with cloth covered buttons to match the cuffs on his jacket. The workshop queried the order when they received thinking we had gone bonkers. George got his suit and was pleased with the outcome. Later lots of guys were walking about town with cut back cuffs and side seams on their trousers, but George was the first.” - Rollo Torpey, The Beatles and Me (2015)

“At Iris’s 14th birthday party, I remember George turned up in a brand-new, Italian-style stuff with covered buttons. He looked very grown-up.” - Violet Caldwell (mother of Iris, and Alan, a.k.a. Rory Storm), The Beatles Monthly September 1965

“[George’s mother Louise] took an unusually benign view of George’s luminous pink shirts, yellow waistcoat, and drainpipe trousers.” - Pete Shotton, The Beatles, Lennon, And Me (1984)

“Going in for flash clothes, or at least trying to be a bit different, as I hadn’t any money, was part of the rebelling. I never cared for authority. They can’t teach you experience; you’ve got to go through it, by trial and error.” - George Harrison, The Beatles: The Authorized Biography (1968)

“At the Institute, George was known from the beginning as a way-out dresser. Michael McCartney, Paul’s brother, was a year below him. He remembers George always having long hair — years before anybody else did. […] ‘George used to go to school with his school cap sitting high on top of his hair,‘ says Mrs. Harrison. ‘And very tight trousers. Unknown to me, he’d run them up on my machine to make them even tighter. I bought him a brand-new pair once and the first thing he did was tighten them. When his dad found out, he told him to unpick them at once. “I can’t, Dad,” he said. “I’ve cut the pieces off.”’” - The Beatles: The Authorized Biography (1968)

“I’d started to develop my own version of the school uniform. I had some cast-offs from my brother. One was a dog-toothed check-patterned sports coat, which I’d dyed black to use as my school blazer. The color hadn’t quite taken, so it still had a slight check design to it. I had a shirt I’d bought in Lime Street, that I thought was so cool. It was white with pleats down the front. and it had embroidery along the corners of the pleats. I had a waistcoat that John had given me, which he’d got from his ‘uncle’ Dykins (his mother’s boyfriend), Mr. Twitchy Dykins. It was like an evening-suit waistcoat — black, double-breasted, with lapels. The trousers John also gave me, soon after we first met — powder-blue drainpipes with turn-ups. I dyed them black as well. And I had black suede shoes from my brother. […] That outfit of mine was very risky, and it felt like all day, every day, for the last couple of years I was going to get busted. In those days we used Vaseline on our hair to get the rock n’ roll greased-back hairstyle. Also, you were supposed to wear a cap and a tie, and a badge on your blazer. I didn’t have my badge stitched on, I had it loose. It was held in place by a pen clipped over it in my top pocket, so I could remove it easily, and the tie.” - George Harrison, The Beatles Anthology (2000)

“He was always a pretty snappy dresser, and he did always like that waistcoat look. And he used to wear a V-neck Fair Isle jumper. Sometimes he’d be a little too outrageous, like purple trousers with bright green, but it was fine. Everything seemed to be fine then.” - Pattie Boyd, interview for the British Beatles Fan Club

“The boys are wearing all sorts of fantastic clothes for their film and introduce a very new, unusual gimmick. If they’re wearing corduroy, for example, then they have corduroy boots to match. If they’re seen in velveteen suits, then they’re coupled with velveteen boots. George first thought of the idea two years ago, but when he put the idea to a local bootmaker, he told him it couldn’t be done. Well, that’s one cobbler that’s been proved wrong.” - The Beatles Monthly, June 1965 (x)

[hanakoofthejungle]

HuskerDust Sinatra playlist (to be updated)

Given Husk and Angel's time when they were alive, Sinatra's songs would no doubt fall into their mutual category of favorites. I believe Angel would very much like Sinatra's crooning considering Sinatra's melancholy voice, him being also Italian and having alleged connection to the Italian mob. Husk spent so much time in casinos so surely he knew all of these songs like the back of his hand.

Below are the songs that I find would fit well into their inner thoughts and stages of their relationship. When Sinatra sang, he didn't just sing a song, he was telling us something from his heart which I imagine is what Husk wanted to say to Angel and vice versa (and there are duets :))). You will see that Husk was allocated more songs than Angel. This is because I firmly believe Husk is the more sappy and sentimental one in the relationship.

Who knows :)) these songs might inspire some fanfictions. Whatever you imagine, Sinatra can provide :)))

One song might have different version sung by Sinatra. The ones listed here are the most fitting in my opinion. These are all youtube links because some came from nice musical films/music shows and some aren't available on spotify.

The pining stage (sprinkled with some self-loathing/insecurity in case they didn't think their feelings were mutual)

Husk

These Foolish Things (Remind Me of You)

These foolish things remind me of you You came you saw you conquer'd me When you did that to me I knew somehow this had to be

It could Happen to You

All I did was wonder How your arms would be And it happened to me

Half As Lovely (Twice As True) (or Husk's insecurity about himself being just a washed-up drunk while Angel could have anyone he wants, also mention of Angel's facade. This is the perfect song :))))

I'm only one of those who thinks of you and sighs, Just another who knows your laughter and lies. I wish that you were someone who was half as lovely, twice as true. I love you, I love you, too much it seems, for any fool can see, With your heart so crowded with other dreams, how can you dream of me?

Bewitched

I'm wild again, beguiled again A simpering, whimpering child again Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered am I Couldn't sleep, wouldn't sleep Then love came and told me I shouldn't sleep Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered am I Lost my heart, but what of it?

Angel

I Don't Know Why (I Just Do)

You never seem to want my romancing The only time you hold me Is when we're dancing I don't know why I love you like I do I don't know why, but I do

I fall in love too easily (This fits Angel so well)

I fall in love too easily, I fall in love too fast I fall in love too terribly hard, for love to ever last My heart should be well schooled, 'cause I've been fooled in the past And still I fall in love too easily, I fall in love too fast

Glad to be unhappy

Unrequited love's a bore And I've got it pretty bad But for someone you adore It's a pleasure to be sad

Prisoner of Love

Alone from night to night You'll find me too weak to break the chains that bind me. I need no shackles to remind me, I'm just a prisoner of love.

The confessing stage

Husk

Zing! Went The Strings Of My Heart

Dear when you smiled at me I heard a melody It haunted me from the start Something inside of me, started a symphony Zing! Went the strings of my heart

Then Suddenly Love (I can imagine Angel kick the door open :)))

I never heard bluebirds, the songs that they sing, I never get crazy, not even in spring, Then suddenly love struck me like lightning, Love it blew up a storm, Love suddenly grabbed me, and ooh, was it cozy and warm 'Cause I found you, now I no longer just exist, Ooh, what a change, it started from the time we kissed

Angel

I Get a Kick out of You

Some they may go for a cocaine I'm sure that if I took even one sniff It would bore me terrifically too Yet I get a kick out of you

I've Never been in Love before

I'm full of foolish songs And out my song must pour So please forgive this helpless haze I'm in I've really never been in love before

Husk and Angel

You're Awful (A silly duet confession of love :)))

Husk: Those words that everyone knows But my thoughts gets mangled, And all the words get tangled, But since you asked me, here goes: You're awful, awful good to look at, Awful nice to be with, awful sweet to have and hold. You're nothing, nothing if not lovely, Nothing if not dazzling, nothing but pure gold, You're frightening, frightening me when you say That you might go away, You're boring, boring into my heart to stay. You're cheap, dear, cheap at any price, dear, Cheap for such a diamond, Cheap for such a pearl, What I said before, I'll say again, You're awful, awful nice to be my girl. Angel: You're old, dear, old with worldly wisdom, Old like Gorgonzola, old like finest French champagne, You're so-so, so-so, so-so kinda charming, So-so kind of witty, so I can't explain, Husk: Can't stand you, I can't stand you giving some fellow the eye, Can't stand you in the arms of another guy, Who needs you? Need you to distraction, Need you too this crazy, need you rain or shine, Both: I'm the one who needs you, And I think you're awful, awful nice to say you're mine.

The dating/domestic bliss stage (sprinkled with some angst/couple fights)

Husk

[How Little It Matters] How Little We Know

Who cares to define what chemistry this is? Who cares, with your lips on mine, how ignorant bliss is? So long as you kiss me, and the world around us shatters, How little it matters, how little we know.

I Could Write A Book

If they ask me, I could write a book About the way you walk and whisper and look I could write a preface on how we met So the world would never forget And the simple secret of the plot Is just to tell them that I love you a lot Then the world discovers as my book ends How to make two lovers of friends

That Old Black Magic

Those icy fingers up and down my spine The same old witchcraft when your eyes meet mine The same old tingle that I feel inside And then that elevator starts its ride And down and down, I go 'Round and 'round, I go Like a leaf that's caught in the tide

Too Marvelous for Words

You're much, too much, and just too very very To ever be in Webster's dictionary And so I'm borrowing a love song from the birds To tell you that you're marvelous Too marvelous for words

Polka Dots And Moonbeams

In my frightened arms, polka dots and moonbeams Sparkled on a pug-nosed dream There were questions in the eyes of other dancers As we floated over the floor There were questions but my heart knew all the answers And perhaps a few things more Now in a cottage built of lilacs and laughter I know the meaning of the words? Ever after? And I'll always see polka dots and moonbeams When I kiss the pug-nosed dream

Witchcraft

'Cause it's witchcraft, wicked witchcraft And although, I know, it's strictly taboo When you arouse the need in my My heart says yes indeed in me Proceed with what your leading me to It's such an ancient pitch But one I wouldn't switch 'Cause there's no nicer witch than you

Dear Heart (Husk waited for Angel to come home from work)

Dear heart, wish you were here to warm this night My dear heart, it seems like a year since you've been out of my sight A single room, a table for one It's a lonesome town all right But soon I'll kiss you hello at our front door And dear heart, I want you to know I'll leave your arms never more

Husk and Angel

We Just Couldn't Say Goodbye

We thought that love was over, that we were really through, I said I didn't love her, that we'd begin anew, And you can all believe me, we sure intended to, But we just couldn't say goodbye. The chair and then the sofa, they broke right down and cried, The curtain started waving for me to come inside. I tell you confident'a'lly the tears were hard to hide, And we just couldn't say goodbye. The clock was striking twelve o'clock, it smiled on us below, With folded hands, it seemed to say, we'll miss you if you go. So I went back and kissed her and when I looked around, The room was singing love songs and dancing up and down. Now we're both so happy because at last we've found That we just couldn't say goodbye.

Kisses and Tears

Kisses and tears, it's up to you If we laugh or we cry through the years Unless you trust me, whenever a doubt appears Your future with me will continue to be kisses and tears You're crying again, you're sighing again Can't we patch it up this time? I guess it's alright, we've finished our fight It's just about kiss-time

Nothing in Common

Our two goals are apart as the poles are As lovers our roles are completely miscast Let's make a clean break And not take any chances 'Cause outside of thinking you're something divine And outside of wanting your lips close to mine We've got nothin' in common We've got nothin' in common at all

How Are Ya Fixed for Love

How are ya fixed for someone to watch the rain with? To stroll down the line with? For someone to just go a little insane with? How are you fixed for memories? Memories that shine so bright? If we let fancy take us We could make us a few tonight How are ya' fixed for someone who'll fit your arms like a glove? Hey, tell me baby, how are ya' fixed for love?

Bonus: Sinatra's Loser, baby a.k.a Here's To The Losers

Here's the last toast of the evening, here's to those who still believe All the losers will be winners, all the givers shall receive Here's to trouble-free tomorrows, may your sorrows all be small Here's to the losers, here's to the losers, here's to the losers Bless them all!

[mioakem]

My theories for the show as a non book reader 🥰

-I feel like Luke might be the traitor idk I feel like he’s gonna sabotage Percy

-I feel like Percy and Annabeth r gonna get together idk tho

- I feel like that Thalia girl is gonna come back at the end of season two and she’s gonna be this cool punk girl and join the hunters of Artemis right before she turns 16 but idk tho

-I feel like Percy is gonna lose his memory but only remember annabeth and end up at the Roman version of camp half blood but idkkk it feels kinda outlandish

-I feel like 7 half bloods shall answer the call to storm or fire the world must fall. An oath to keep with the final breath, and foes bear arms to the doors of death but idkkkkk

-I feel like their gonna introduce this gay Italian kid and he’s gonna have a crush on Percy but then later he’s gonna say that Percy’s not his type and date a guy that looks exactly like Percy but idk just a thought

No spoilers please 🤗

[lovingherrscher]

Bungou Stray Dogs Otoge

So I saw an earlier post about what BSD characters being the love interests in Diabolik Lovers, so why not make an otoge/otome game for them?

Dazai Yohane proudly presents you... Bungou Stray Dogs Otoge!

Warning: Crack, some angst in the bad endings, OOC even maybe. Random thoughts in a mental breakdown. Spoilers for Storm Bringer. Character deaths mentions.

Notes: None. I just want to distract myself.

Love interests:

Dazai Osamu - 1 True Ending, 1 Good Ending and 2 Bad Endings

The mystery type

"Posterboi", yes, he's on the poster for the common version of the game, the limited version ft all 5 love interests (except for Fyodor because he's in the secret route)

Ranked #2 in the popularity poll

Is loved by all the fangirls

Likes to fool around with MC

All of that disappear when you got out of the common route and head for his route

FUCK PLEASE GO BACK

Shout out to Dazai slowly opening up gotta be my favourite genre

Will have a CG where he takes you to Lupin and slowly opens up to you about his past

Best bed scene in the whole game

One of the bad endings is where you two committed a lover's suicide together and succeeded.

Nakahara Chuuya - 1 True Ending, 2 Good Ending and 3 Bad Endings

The rich guy who'd buy you everything as a gift, jewelries, fancy clothes, a store, a building even?!

Candidate for the next mob boss

5/5 (actually 4.5) on these criterias:

The (soon to be) mob boss

Cruel, cold to almost everyone else except for his 'family' aka the mafia

Is actually a nice person

Will treats you gently, like a princess when he's head over heels for you

Gap moe (he likes dogs)

So inevitably, he ranked #1 in the popularity poll

Is almost everything the Italians hates about 'romanticizing the mafiosos'

His route is basically a whole "FUCK GO BACK" like Dazai, since we'll focus on his traumas and his past more.

He will opens up about his fear of not being a human, about the calamity that lives inside him

Has a CG where he takes you to visit Rimbaud's and The Flags' graves.

That one route would make the players put the Switch/PS Vita down and ask themselves why are they here, just to suffer.

Best kiss sounds in the whole fucking game I say. His bed scene makes you went from angsty mood to instant horny.

One of his bad ending is about how Chuuya lost control of the calamity inside him - Arahabaki when he saw you, killed before his eyes by the enemy, and with Dazai out of the picture, there isn't anyone there to stop him anymore.

Nakajima Atsushi - 1 True Ending, 1 Good Ending and 1 Bad Ending

That one character make everyone goes 'hell I could adopt him even not flirt with him.'

Cute, shy boy

Is cute when needed and sexy when wanted

Makes you wonder how can an angel like this even exists

Has good kissing sounds *if you know what I mean*

Drifting off the common route we dig deeper into his past, about the beast inside him, about the orphanage and the headmaster

A CG where he'll cry in your arms and you soothing him, reassure the boy that it's all in the past and he isn't alone now

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke - 1 True Ending, 2 Good Ending and 2 Bad Ending

Tsundere type

Foul-mouthed

Eventually will slowly opens up to MC

God he's so cute and precious

Needs a hug for all the traumas he's been through

His route basically focus on his past and how Dazai affected him so much

He has a CG where he sat down and talk with you about Gin and how he grows up in the slum, about why did he crave for power so bad, and why he wanted to be acknowledged by his ex-mentor.

3rd best bed scene in the game.

Kunikida Doppo - 1 True Ending, 1 Good Ending and 1 Bad Ending

Workaholic type

A man who dedicates his life to work

The handsome one with glasses

It's really fun watching him slowly falling for you, especially when he has this "58 standards for the ideal woman"

He'll slowly crosses them out just for you 💖

His route focus on the reason he dreams of an ideal world, his ideal world

Will has this 'behind the scene' flashback about The Azure King's case and Azure Apostle's case 2 years ago with the death of Rokuzou and Sasaki.

A CG where he holds you tightly in his arms and speaks with a broken voice, teary eyes about how he's so scare that his ideal might consume him one day like what happened to Azure King. He is whom chases his ideals like the moth chasing flames, but deep down under that perfectionist, workaholic mask is how he's insecure and scared that his ideals will burn him down like the flame that burn down the moth.

2nd best bed scene in the game.

His bad ending is basically when his ideals finally consume him and Kunikida became the 2nd Azure King.

Secret route: Fyodor Dostoevsky - 1 True Ending and 1 Bad Ending

After you finish everyone's route, a new, hidden route will be unlocked. And it's the Russian man, the mastermind behind everything

To be honest, this is quite of a short route. No common, just straight to his route

Also a mystery type

The smart, prodigy type

The one who has this aura goes "run for your life" or either "damn he's hot"

Expect an unhealthy relationship when you're in this route

This man will uses you like a pawn on his chessboard

Gaslighting, manipulation, abusing, you name it. Everything is in this route

What good ending? No good ending with him for you missy. Only true end or bad end.

WORST BAD ENDING IN THE WHOLE GAME. Please don't ask what it's like.

Fandisc: 2 fandisc with one being the current timeline, the other is about when Dazai is still in the mafia.

Bonus contents for 1st fandisc:

An extra route for Fukuzawa

A Bad Ending in common route ft a 3P, a Dazai x MC x Chuuya sandwich *chef's kiss*

An another Bad Ending in common route ft a 3P, an Atsushi x MC x Akutagawa sandwich

And a new Bad Ending in secret route leads you to a Dazai x MC x Fyodor sandwich

Bonus contents for 2nd fandisc:

A Mafia!Dazai route

An Odasaku route

An Ango route

A Bad Ending in common route that's extra spicy ft a 4P with the Dark Era Trio?!!! *chef's kiss*

[bewareofitalics]

Random Obscure Musical Recs(?): La Tempesta/Prospera

Finally getting back to these! It's been a year since Tom Jones died, so I figured I'd celebrate him by highlighting this (these) show(s) of his which someone should have produced by now. We got a production of an unfinished Sondheim show, how has no one picked up what the librettist of the longest-running musical in the world has called his best work? (Okay, there was a Japanese production in 2019. At least Japan appreciates Tom Jones!)

La Tempesta, unsurprisingly, is an adaptation of The Tempest. In a 2012 interview, Jones explained that the Italian title is "in honor of a production by the Piccolo Teatro di Milano, an innovative Italian company whose work also inspired many of the theatrical devices used in The Fantasticks." Somewhere between September 2021 and June 2022, the show was rewritten as Prospera, with a female lead. I'm not sure if both versions are available for production (like the two versions of The Fantasticks), or if only Prospera is. I think the latter. But there are pages for both La Tempesta and Prospera on jonesandschmidt.com. I haven't been able to find anything Jones said about the rewrite. Did he think that having Prospera rather than Prospero worked better thematically? Did he just think there should be more roles for middle-aged women? I don't know, and I probably never will. Unless the show gets produced and the composer, Andrew Gerle, talks about it, I guess.

For a synopsis, see The Tempest. Or, see Prospera's whole script! The musical doesn't follow the play exactly, but it's close enough that if you know it, you can get what's happening in the songs. It's been a while since I've seen or read The Tempest so when reading Prospera I wasn't always sure if something was in the original not, but I can say that there's more emphasis on Prospera's anger and the way it affects her (same goes for Prospero in La Tempesta). And she gets a confrontation with Antonio! Which I'd forgotten that Prospero really doesn't in the play until I checked just now to see how the scenes differed! Here's the author's note from the script:

Containing traditional musical theatre songs and a fantastical electronic score, PROSPERA is based on Shakespeare’s play, but in this version, the Tempest is not just the great storm Prospera creates to shipwreck her enemies. It is the storm inside herself, the raging anger and the need to punish those who took away her kingdom and cast her and her infant daughter Miranda out to sea on a rotting ship. Likewise, in this version her two spirits, Ariel and Caliban, are not just offsprings of some forgotten witch but somehow part of herself, twisting images of dark and light constantly intertwined. The story of the play is the process by which Prospera is finally able to forgive her enemies and free herself from the heavy burden of hatred and revenge. When this is done, she breaks her magic staff and bids the audience, and the world, farewell.

There were of course some extra changes made for Prospera, like Antonio being the title character's counselor instead of her brother and Gonzalo being Consuela. Trinculo is described as "possibly male, possibly female, possibly both" - dunno if that was also true for La Tempesta. Ariel is female in both versions (and she gets some interesting story changes). "Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and/She said thou wast my daughter" became "The mid-wife said so, and she was a woman of some experience," which was a relief because I have never recovered from seeing that scene done with Prospero played by and as a woman and saying that line as "Thy father was a piece of virtue," etc. which makes no sense. But I digress.

A lot of the dialogue is based on Shakespeare, rewritten in a way that might bother people who have the original basically memorized (judging by my reaction to Twelfth Night adaptations). I think there are a few lines of actual Shakespeare left, and also a lot that's original to Jones, written in a poetic style similar to The Fantasticks. The metatheatrical elements will also be familiar to fans of Jones's other work. He knew what he liked. <3

And, the songs! The songs are great, with a really cool sound. Which is very different from Harvey Schmidt's, but that's okay! This makes me want to hear more from Andrew Gerle. You can listen to demos at the jonesandschmidt.com links above, and also I've uploaded them here and here. Some tracks are the same in both versions, in part or in full, so the Prospera changes aren't always reflected. The casting isn't always consistent between tracks and the cast lists on the site aren't completely accurate, but I think the artist info in the files I uploaded is correct. I'm just not sure who sings Caliban's solo - T. Oliver Reid is the only Caliban listed, but it doesn't sound like him. It might be Gerle? I am fairly certain that Jones has a cameo as Gonzalo in the opening. :D

Here's a video with clips of the Japanese production set to the La Tempesta demo:

And another video with Prospera demos:

And here's Tom Jones talking about the show, pre-rewrite (but mentioning how he created the Antonio confrontation, guess it's been too long since I watched this):

I miss him. :(

Sample songs and some more stuff below the cut!

Prospera and Caliban's backstory.

Okay this is actually three songs, but only one track so I'm not cheating! Ariel draws out Ferdinand, who sings a duet with Miranda before they meet, and also after. Ferdinand and Miranda here are Max Crumm and Samantha Bruce, who I saw as Matt and Luisa in The Fantasticks together.

Antonio and Sebastian plot!

The script has three songs that aren't on the demo: a reprise of "Full Fathom Five" for Ariel and Alonso, a reprise of "One Day When It Was Raining" when Caliban tries to convince Stephano and Trinculo to kill Prospera, and in place of the masque, "See the Snow" for Ariel, which seems to start as a reprise of "Hear the Music" but then go in another direction (it's hard to tell with just text, sigh). "See the Snow" reminds me of something Tom Jones said about the ending of The Fantasticks, and that was in the same interview where I first heard him talk about La Tempesta, so I wouldn't be surprised if it was a conscious connection. So here are some of the lyrics:

SEE THE SNOW: IT’S FALLING SOFTLY. FEEL ITS FINGERS TOUCH YOUR SKIN. SEE THE OLD WORLD BEING COVERED SO A NEW WORLD CAN BEGIN. GONE ARE ALL THE DARKENED SHADOWS, DISAPPEARED WITHOUT A TRACE. IN THEIR PLACE, A NEW BEGINNING. IN THEIR PLACE, A STATE OF GRACE. WHITE AS A PAGE THAT’S NOT YET WRITTEN. SWEET AS A LONGED FOR SECOND CHANCE.

Here's hoping for a real cast album with everything on it someday! And just in case it isn't clear, I absolutely do recommend this one.

Get more random obscure musical recs(?) here!

[pers-books]

The Observer Peter Capaldi

‘The government has been too terrible to make fun of’: Peter Capaldi on satire, politics and privilege

📷 ‘I’ve had to pretend to be more amenable’: Peter Capaldi wears blazer by oliverspencer.co.uk; shirt by toa.st. Photograph: Simon Emmett/The Observer

Tom Lamont Sun 14 Jan 2024 08.00 GMT

One winter morning, a Doctor Who comes calling. The Glaswegian actor Peter Capaldi lives about an hour’s walk from me and instead of us meeting in some midway café, the 65-year-old wanders over (leather booted, woolly jumpered, cloaked in a dark winter coat that sets off his pale-grey hair) to have coffee at my kitchen table. My son is off school with flu, medicating on Marvel movies and barely able to believe his luck as the actorly embodiment of an alien superhero wanders through our flat. While we’re waiting for the kettle to boil, I ask Capaldi whether he ran into any other Doctor Whos on his walk through the actorland that is suburban north London.

He grins an unguarded grin you don’t often see on screen. Capaldi became famous as the permanently angry spin doctor Malcolm Tucker in the BBC comedy The Thick of It, which ran from 2005 to 2012 and, after that, between 2013 and 2017, he played the sternest, least imp-ish Doctor Who in decades. In his new Apple TV show, a police procedural called Criminal Record, which Capaldi co-produced with his wife, Elaine Collins, he stars as an ageing detective: another scowler. Now, coffee in hand, he smiles affectionately. So, did he bump into any other Doctor Whos this morning? “David [Tennant, 10th Doctor] used to live in Crouch End, near me. Matt [Smith, 11th Doctor] lives around here. Jodie [Whittaker, 13th Doctor] is nearby, Christopher [Eccleston, 9th Doctor] too, I think.” But no, no encounters with his fellow alumni this morning, Capaldi says.

📷 ‘You can’t be the cynical melancholic I naturally am’: Peter Capaldi wears coat by Mr P (mrporter.com); jumper by uniqlo.com; trousers by reiss.com; and shoes by johnlobb.com. Photograph: Simon Emmett/The Observer

“You do run into each other. You have a laugh, a gossip, you share. There aren’t a lot of people who have been in that role in the centre of that storm. Most people think the job is being on the Tardis and running around with Daleks. Which it is. That’s the fun part. But there’s a lot of other stuff you have to do, too. You’re kind of the face of the brand and the brand is very big. You can’t be the cynical melancholic I naturally am. You have to pretend to be a version of yourself that’s far more amenable.”

Is it a bit like being the Queen?

“Kind of,” he says. “You embody for a time this folk hero, this icon. I was able to comfort people in a way that would be beyond the powers of Peter. You could walk into a room and people gasped with delight. It doesn’t happen any more.”

Capaldi grew up in 1960s and 1970s Glasgow. His Italian-Scottish family lived in a tenement block. “We had nothing. We had zilch.” From a young age he exhibited signs of artistic talent, though he characterises himself, then and now, as a seven- or eight-out-of-10 at various crafts. “When I was young, I was good at drawing. My grandmother used to say that came from Italy. She felt that I was an absolute throwback to Leonardo da Vinci – her direct line to Michelangelo! It confused me because I wanted to do these other things, play music, act – which one was I supposed to do?”

📷 Great Scot: Peter Capaldi wears blazer by ralphlauren.co.uk. Photograph: Simon Emmett/The Observer

After graduating school at 18, this confused cross-artistic trajectory continued. “I tried to be an actor, but I didn’t get into drama school, so I went to art school. When I was at art school, I joined a band.” In his early 20s, Capaldi released a single as part of a group called Dreamboys; then he quit music and spent most of his 20s acting, getting small jobs in theatre and TV as well as a walk-on part opposite John Malkovich in 1988’s Dangerous Liaisons. In his 30s, he decided to concentrate on directing.

In 1993, a short film he directed, Franz Kafka’s It’s a Wonderful Life, won him an Oscar, industry recognition that launched Capaldi off on a heady but doomed sojourn in America. Well caffeinated and gripping the edge of my kitchen table to tell the story, he recalls what happened when he was courted as a hot prospect by the Weinstein brothers, Bob and Harvey, then the co-presidents of Miramax and at the height of their power and influence. Capaldi spent a year working on a screenplay for them, at the end of which Bob flew him out to Manhattan to discuss casting and production. As far as Capaldi was concerned it was a formality; bottles of champagne were cooling at home.“I thought I was off and away.”

📷 Feel the heat: in The Thick of it. Photograph: Everett Collection/Alamy

Miramax sent a limo to pick him up from the airport. “I fell into conversation with the driver, lovely man, Ralph. When I got out of the car I gave him a big tip. Because I was a big shot now, you see. Then Ralph said: ‘I’ve been told to wait for you here.’” Uh oh. “Inside, all the people in the office were avoiding my eye. Bob said, ‘I’ll come straight to it, we’re not gonna do the movie, my brother Harvey says he doesn’t know how to sell it.’ He said, ‘But we love you! You’re one of the family! You’ll always have a place here!’ Needless to say, I never heard from him again. Obviously, while I was in the air they’d had a discussion and changed their minds. I was so dumbfounded as I climbed back into the limo I just laughed. I had no money, because we’d bought a little house in Crouch End, and I had no career, because I’d turned my back on acting.”

In a gesture that Capaldi has never forgotten, Ralph the limo driver tried to give him back his big tip.

As we chat, the postman rings the bell, delivering packages. Council tree surgeons are working on the road outside. My son needs water, words of comfort, possibly he just wants another good long look at Capaldi. I’ve never interviewed anyone in my own home before and the limitations of the format are becoming apparent. But Capaldi seems to respond well to the setting and its lack of frills. His adult daughter and her family have been visiting, brand new baby in tow. When I apologise for all the noise and interruptions, Capaldi says it’s nothing compared to a newborn.

📷 Fun fact: in Paddington 2. Photograph: Supplied by LMK

He and Collins were young parents themselves when his directing career fell apart. Arriving back in London from the disastrous Manhattan trip, “The initial feeling was shock. Then a pragmatic survival instinct kicked in.” Capaldi rejoined the auditioning circuit. “I was a psychiatrist in Midsomer Murders. I was a beekeeper in Poirot – AN Other Actor. Someone else would have turned down these parts first.” Collins, until that point an actor, too, decided to pivot into development and production, a career move that has worked well for her.

Artists often do their best work while they’re at their lowest, perhaps because they feel they haven’t much to lose, little to be afraid of. Sloping into a Soho audition room in the mid-2000s to meet Armando Iannucci about a new political comedy, Capaldi remembers being in a foul mood. He’d just come from an unsuccessful audition for another BBC show, “being taped like I was Vivien Leigh reading for Scarlett O’Hara”. He remained grumpy when Iannucci admitted there wasn’t yet a script for The Thick of It, they were going to try improvising instead. “I knew Armando was supposed to be a comedy genius, but at that moment I was, like, ‘Yeah? Let’s see some of your comedy genius then. Fucking show me what you’ve got, you Oxbridge twat.’ My whole attitude that day was essentially Malcolm Tucker’s, and it informed the improvisation we did.”

📷 Folk Hero: in his new series Criminal Record. Photograph: Ben Meadows/Apple

When The Thick of It debuted, Capaldi entered the sitcom pantheon overnight. Revisiting episode one, what’s glaring is how fully formed, how exquisite a character Tucker is. Alan Partridge, Samantha Jones, Frasier Crane, David Brent … these creations had to be discovered over time by their actors and writers. With Tucker it’s all there from word one, the controlled fury, the foul-mouthed eloquence, that constant convenient deployment of hypocrisy. Capaldi played the part for seven years, winning a Bafta mid-run. It led to other memorable gigs, as a news producer in 2012’s The Hour and as Count Richelieu in a 2014 adaptation of the Musketeers story. He was Mister Micawber in Iannucci’s 2019 reimagining of David Copperfield, a fun role that was bookended by two equally fun Paddington movies, released in 2014 and 2017.

Promoting these projects, Capaldi would be asked to give a view on political events of the day, as seen through the eyes of the character who made his career. What would Malcolm Tucker think of Brexit, or the pandemic response, or the premierships of Johnson or Truss? Capaldi long ago stopped answering these questions. “For one thing, I need about 10 writers, Tony Roach and Jesse Armstrong among them, to supply Malcolm’s bon mots. But more than that, I think these [recent Conservative] governments have been too terrible to make fun of. I think they’ve been incompetent and corrupt and I’m not going to make jokes to give them time off.”

📷 ‘You’re the face of the brand and the brand is very big’: playing Doctor Who. Photograph: Everett Collection Inc/Alamy

We talk about how weird it is that political satire should have fallen into abeyance in the 2020s – perhaps because, as Capaldi says, “things have been too bad to make fun of. Making fun normalises situations I don’t think should be normalised. The planet is burning. They’re pumping shit into the rivers. I’m not gonna be part of making jokes about that… All this highfalutin life I’ve had,” he says, of the awards parties, the film roles, the immortal runs as a sweary spin doctor and an inscrutable Doctor Who, “is because I went to art school. My parents couldn’t afford to send me. I went because the government of the day paid for me to go and I didn’t have to pay them back. There was a thrusting society then, a society that tried to improve itself. Yes, of course, it cost money. But so what? It allowed people from any kind of background to learn about Shakespeare, or Vermeer, or whatever they wanted to learn about. Why did we lose this, this belief in ourselves?”

For Capaldi, the world of acting feels narrower now, meaner in a way that seems to mirror British society at large. He thinks of his industry as one in which subtle discriminations hold sway and “gatekeepers and Aztecs still decree who shall be admitted… I think there’s a real problem. There isn’t the funding or support for young people from poorer backgrounds to get into the theatre. And indeed there aren’t the theatres.” He wonders about the teenage Anthony Hopkinses out there, talented, without the obvious means or encouragement to train in the arts. And the inverse, actors who Capaldi, in his frank and acid way, characterises as privileged duds.

📷 Shared vision: with his wife and co-producer Elaine. Photograph: Trinity Mirror/Mirrorpix/Alamy

“This business is full of people who are not the real thing,” he says, “people I perceived to be artists ’cos they had posh accents, but who didn’t have it, they just sounded like they did.” He goes on to tell a tantalising but intentionally vague story about a major star he worked with, someone who revealed themselves through the course of an acting collaboration to be a dud hiding in plain sight. He won’t provide details (“Too easy to figure out. When everyone’s dead I’ll tell you”), but he says the experience changed him professionally, leaving him more aware of his own limitations, but grateful to have a little vinegar and grit in the mix. “There’s a kind of smoothness, a kind of confidence that comes from a good [paid-for] school. That’s what you’re struck by: they seem to know how to move through the world recognising which battle to fight, where to press their attentions. But it can make the acting smooth, which to me is tedious. I like more neurosis. More fear. More trouble, you know?”

I think this part of his skillset expressed itself well during the three-season run on Doctor Who, when Capaldi was prepared to come across as remote, a little unreachable. “I don’t set out to make the audience like me,” he says. “Because my characters don’t know an audience is there.” For me, his high point as the Doctor was an episode called Heaven’s Gate, a chronology-stretching tale written by Steven Moffatt in which the Doctor is set a sisyphean task of endurance that lasts about 50 minutes or so in screen time and several millennia in narrative terms. Capaldi didn’t play it as a hero. He wasn’t charming or boyish. In this episode especially, he was grim and patient and knackered. It was a rare occasion when the character, apparently alive for hundreds of years, seemed old.

📷 Burning bright: with John Malkovich in Dangerous Liaisons. Photograph: Everett Collection/Alamy

In the new TV show, Criminal Record, he explores a more mortal kind of ageing, life’s third act, its inevitable professional humblings. Capaldi plays a London DCI in his 60s, coming to the end of a career, already moonlighting as a private security contractor, intimidated by the thrust and purpose of a younger colleague at the Met played by Cush Jumbo. As Jumbo’s character grows in confidence, Capaldi’s shrinks. It is a paradox of experience he can relate to. “I find the older I get, the closer I am to who I was,” he says.

I ask him to explain.

“Like I’m returning to… ‘roots’ is the wrong word. I feel more and more like my mother and father, more and more keenly aware of the values they had.” He provides an interesting example, how he has become all thumbs around the act of tipping in restaurants: “I can be in a complete sweat about that.” He can imagine his parents, both dead now, in a similar muddle. “From the background we come from, you can have a bit of anxiety about coming across as grand. So you have to allay that by making sure you are communicating with everybody, all the time.”

Capaldi shakes his head, chuckling softly. He has finished his coffee. He’s about to put on his big coat, say goodbye to my son, and walk back through Whoville to his home and his family. Before he leaves we return to the subject of actors from privileged backgrounds. He says he feels mean, like he took unfair advantage of them in their absence. “It’s not their fault,” he says. “It’s just that there’s less and less of my lot in the arts.” And this concerns him, he continues, because “people of all backgrounds are sophisticated, are interesting, are equally prone to tragedy and joy. Any art that articulates that is a comfort. Art is the ultimate expression of you are not alone, wherever you are, whatever situation you are in. Art is about reaching out. So I think it’s wrong to allow one strata of society to have the most access.”

He nods, feeling he’s expressed himself better. I agree.

Criminal Record is streaming now on Apple TV+, with new episodes every Wednesday

Fashion editor Helen Seamons; Grooming by Kenneth Soh at The Wall Group using Eighth Day; fashion assistant Sam Deaman; photography assistants Tom Frimley and Tilly Pearson; shot at Loft Studio.

[zoestormwriting]

Release announcement!

[Image description: the cover of the book The Enchanted Forest and Other Stories: Five Tales of Gender Magic by Zoe Storm. The cover depicts a person wearing an orange jacket, a yellow beanie, and a blue backpack walking on a forest path; the forest looks dark and foreboding. The title of the book is at the top of the image in white capital letters, and the author's name at the bottom, also in white capital letters. End ID.]

And here we go! My new book, The Enchanted Forest and Other Stories: Five Tales of Gender Magic is now available on all purchase channels, both paperback and e-book!

Those of you who've preordered it should've already have received it (please do tell me if this is not the case and I'll look into it!); for everyone else, you can find the links to the stores that carry it from this here link! Or, if you prefer your e-books to be of the itch flavour, the relevant link is here.

This book is also available in Italian: links for that version -- itch, and all other stores.

Thank you for waiting! Enjoy, and do let me know what you think of this humble offering of mine 🙂

[legallyblondeanddumb]

Again, Again and Again

(Nanami Kento x Oc)

It was past midnight, and Yurei lay awake in her empty apartment. The moonlight cast shadows on the walls, stirring memories she thought she'd forgotten. Nanami Kento, the man she had loved and lost, drifted through her mind, as relentless as the night itself. They had divorced a year ago, after years of trying to make things work. But the memories of him haunted her—always.

It had been a difficult love, both of them too stubborn and too proud. Kento was cold and logical, always focused on the practical, while Yurei was passionate, craving intensity and connection. That was where they clashed, and the fire burned too hot, leaving both of them scorched in the end. They had fought for their love, but eventually, it crumbled under the weight of their differences.

And yet, the yearning was still there.

Yurei had dated other men since their split, even met someone who treated her kindly. But none of them could touch her the way Nanami had. "Non mi fai volare in alto quanto lui," she thought, recalling the lines from an old song. No one could make her fly like Nanami did, and no one could make her fall so painfully. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, and her heart jumped when she saw his name. Nanami. They hadn’t spoken in months. She hesitated before picking up, her heart thudding in her chest.

“Kento…” she whispered, unsure of what to say.

"I know it’s late," he replied, his voice as calm and steady as ever. "But I can't stop thinking about you. I keep telling myself it’s over, that I’ve moved on, but I haven’t. I can’t." Yurei closed her eyes, feeling the familiar pull. They had danced this dance before—coming together, only to fall apart again. But every time he called, she answered. Every time she tried to walk away, she found herself circling back, as if caught in his gravity.

"I miss you," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I thought we were better apart, but I can’t—"

"I’ll be outside your place in ten minutes," He interrupted, his voice low and sure, just like always.

Yurei’s heart skipped a beat. Would this time be different? She didn’t know, but she couldn’t stop herself from wanting to try. Maybe they were doomed to repeat their mistakes, or maybe, this time, they’d finally get it right.

She got dressed, her hands shaking slightly as she slipped on her coat. There was a knock at the door. It was him—Nanami, standing in the hallway, his face unreadable, but his eyes filled with the same desire she felt. Without a word, Yurei pulled him inside. They stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, caught in the quiet storm of their emotions. “Why do we keep doing this?” she asked, almost afraid of the answer.

Nanami sighed, reaching out to gently touch her cheek. "Because we can’t stop. No matter how much we hurt each other, it’s you. It’s always been you." And just like that, they were back in the same place, caught between love and loss, passion and regret. But as their lips met, Yurei knew that even if they fell apart, she would still find her way again, again and again.

A/N: here below you find the English translation to the song of the great Italian singer and songwriter Mina 🖤

[justforbooks]

This is a book for readers of second world war history who like the Boy’s Own version of the conflict. The cast of characters could have stepped straight from a comic strip story. Yet the men of the SAS were real flesh and blood, “rogue heroes” as the title suggests. The organisation now famous for its derring-do, and as famously secretive, has opened its archive to the historian and journalist Ben Macintyre, so that he can produce the first authorised history of what the SAS did in the war.

Macintyre has made the most of the opportunity. The history needs scarcely any embellishment, though he tells it with flair: the simple facts of SAS activity make the “ripping yarns” of comic book heroes pale by comparison. The organisation was the brainchild of two officers posted to the war in Egypt, David Stirling and John “Jock” Lewes. Stirling was an awkward soldier, hostile to spit-and-polish and authority, charming, fun-loving and irreverent (“layer upon layer of fossilised shit” was how he described military bureaucracy). Bored by life in Cairo, he discussed with the ascetic, hard-working, serious-minded Lewes, his complete opposite in personality, the possibility of creating a unit of awkward men like himself, who wanted action, few rules and adventure in small hit-and-run assaults behind enemy lines. Astonishingly, Stirling persuaded the high command in Cairo that he could achieve something significant at low cost in men and materials. The chief of British deception in the desert war, Dudley Clarke, gave the unit its name. Already fooling the Italians with a bogus parachute unit, the First Special Air Service Brigade, he lent the name to Stirling, and the organisation has borne it ever since.

Macintyre uses the SAS war diary as the backbone of his narrative, and is candid about failure as well as the hard-earned successes. The SAS was an irregular unit, its members drawn from an extraordinary range of backgrounds – a spectacles salesman, a textile merchant, a tomato farmer, amateur boxer, and so on – with a range of motives to match. Some wanted excitement, some liked killing and made no pretence about it, some were escaping from their past, some were too eccentric for the ranks; all had to be fit, alert, crafty, ruthless if required and dedicated to the mission. Stirling was also aware that his outfit did not meet with approval in conventional military circles, which saw war as face-to-face, not behind the back. Churchill liked the force, and would no doubt have joined it had it existed in his youth. But through the campaign in North Africa, then Italy and Germany, the SAS had always to prove itself, in order to stave off disbandment.

The new unit nevertheless made a disastrous start and indeed had mixed fortunes throughout the war. The first operation, code-named “Squatter”, carried out while the handful of volunteers were still feeling their way, could not have gone more wrong. Poorly trained as paratroopers, the group nevertheless flew off into a desert storm trying to land at pre-planned dropping zones well to the rear of the enemy. They landed in the worst places, faced a Saharan downpour of biblical proportions, lost some of the troop to injury as they hit the ground, and were then unable to retrieve the parachuted supplies. With explosives so soaked they were worthless, uncertain about their whereabouts, short of food and water, the remnants of the original units made their way back to Egypt. Out of 55 men, 34 were killed, injured, captured or missing without a single achievement.

Macintyre makes the point that this was by no means the end of a madcap idea. Stirling recruited the Long Range Desert Group to take the SAS teams by Jeep or truck rather than risk any further parachute drops, and the second set of raids in December 1941 resulted in the destruction or disabling of 60 enemy aircraft. But Operation Bigamy, a series of raids against Benghazi shortly before the battle of El Alamein, was another disaster. It featured one of the most bizarre figures to emerge from the story: a Belgian textile merchant, Robert Melot. Fluent in Arabic, keen to get at the Germans, he volunteered for the SAS aged 47 as an intelligence officer. He used his range of Libyan contacts to glean information needed for the raids, but in this case Melot miscalculated. An Arab double agent alerted the Germans and Italians and the raids were a disaster. Once again a forlorn, bearded, hungry and damaged band straggled back to Cairo. Melot carried on his SAS career regardless, and died not from his many scrapes in battle, but from a Jeep accident on his way to a party in Brussels late in 1944.

The SAS came of age in the campaign in Italy, where it was used as a more conventional raiding party, the Special Raiding Service, under the command of Paddy Mayne following Stirling’s capture in Tunisia in late 1942. The Italian campaign was a particularly grisly one, and the SRS (with its core of SAS men) found collaboration with the partisans and rivalry with the Special Operations Executive (SOE) a challenge (unlike the SAS, the SOE always linked up with local resistance). Macintyre spares none of the details; the SAS fought a dirty war against an enemy they regarded as every bit as dirty. Prisoners were rare, but in return Hitler condemned irregular commando units to death if they were caught. Not all were killed by any means, but many were, just as the Germans killed all the other irregular, partisan forces ranged against them.

In October 1945 the army wound up the SAS and it continued to exist by subterfuge, a unit of war crimes investigators searching for evidence across Europe that SAS members had been murdered. In 1947, to meet the many crises of empire, the SAS was revived. What it did then and since can be guessed at, but until the postwar unit diaries are revealed, like the wartime diary used by Macintyre, the exact details will not be known.

What in the end did the SAS achieve in the war? Macintyre does not really say, leaving the narrative to speak for itself. It did not, as some of the book’s publicity has suggested, turn the tide of war. Its overall accomplishment, set beside those of the Commandos, or the SOE, the Chindits or other partisan groups, was strategically modest, whatever its tactical successes. But the SAS did bring to life the plucky, maverick, individualist hero of the comic strip, a very British way of making war. SAS: Rogue Heroes is a great read of wartime adventuring, in a long, grim war of attrition where adventure was hard to find.

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