#the fact that he cannot get a dog of his own because of his mother hits way too close to home

[iambecomeyourvillain]

i saw this post by @ionlydrinkhotwater and naturally couldn't stop the visuals (again)

imagine the foxes & trojans having like a meetup discussion and one of them goes "oh andrew, neil, you should bring your cats!!" and jeremy being like "oh that's so amazing i'll get my dog as well!!" and everyone agreeing like Oh Yeah Cool!! and not figuring out why jean is pinching the bridge of his nose and looking annoyed as shit after hearing this, then writing it off as him being his grumpy self. but then the day of the meetup cat dads neil and andrew show up with a cat on their shoulders/cradled in their arms and on the other hand jeremy is sauntering in with an honest to God cardboard cutout golden retriever and -ignoring the bewildered look on Literally Everyone's Faces- going "hey guys!! this is my dog Barkbarb von Barkenstein, you can call him Barkbark or Mister B in short—" YOU CANNOT TELL ME HE WOULDN'T

[thechekhov]

Dungeon Meshi Quick Reacts: CH45

Slumber party!

Fair, but consider: She deserves a little murder. As a treat.

Kabru be like "IS THAT MY BACKSTORY???"

That sure is....a ship. With no one on it.

Ah, shit the Americans are here.

Two things: Toshiro being tended to like a pretty pretty princess is hilarious.

And also, the fact that they think the elves can kill Falin......... hmmm.... Pressing X to doubt.

............... oh. Laios. 😂

But also like. How was he MEANT to keep it silent? Put a little something in it? I thought since it was a magic bell you could code it to only ring when it's shaken with INTENT?

Fancy ass house.

Also, Namari...........are you hitting that yet? Both of that?

Oh, it's backstory time.

Okay one: that's fucking tragic, it sounds like the Elves are just forcing the dungeons closed with no regard for how the ecosystem compensates and what people suffer by being in close proximity......

And another thing: Kabru. Kabru, isn't that what YOU'RE after? Having all the power?

Why is this so much like that one meme where the girls at the party are looking at you.

It's the same picture.

Kabru that's. That's maybe not the way to go about it. you're going to give them MORE reasons to go in.

Nevermind the governor not being into this 'good boy, now sign' talk, Toshiro's kinda right. Ya fucked up Kabru.

No matter how far Laios runs, he cannot escape other people trying to tell him how to live his life. Poor guy. But at the same time...

Is this real? Or a red herring?

Laios' father and mother seemed to be living relatively pious lives. They clearly had a good house, but it didn't seem like they were extremely rich. Then again, perhaps he's just a cousin of royalty? Is that why his parents wanted him to have children?

They want to.... halt the growth of the dungeon? Is this another part of the natural ecosystem of things? Dungeons growing seems to point even more towards the idea that it's a gigantic, fleshpit-like creature instead of simply a construct.

Then again, constructs CAN be creatures. Like the golems.

Elves not understanding how old humans are continues to be hilarious because like.

As humans, we HAVE this same concept of variant aging. Like. Dogs. We understand that dogs live less than us, and mature a lot slower. But this is.... COMMON KNOWLEDGE. Most people do not make it into adulthood without understanding that dogs mature within 1-2 years of their birth.

The fact that elves, a species with FAR more time on their hands, who have lived alongside other races for AGES....... have STILL not got the general concept of aging down....means their education is atrocious. Or they're all not paying attention.

.......this. THIS is the most fascinating concept in this chapter.

The fallen.... turned into MONSTERS.

We know that dying inside the dungeon doesn't mean permanent death. But dying above-ground does.

We know that dying in the dungeon doesn't mean your body turns into a monster (aside from ghosts and ghouls?) ..... but dying aboveground.... DOES......?

WHAT'S THE TRUTH.

👁👁

Hm.

If Kabru and Laios fused, they could almost make one functioning human being.

Senshi just beginning to speak in the middle of his own internal monologue is so real.

...... what's going on there with the expression, buddy?

Bread.......are they STILL carrying around flour with them?! How are they getting bread?!

Also, it's awesome that the eggs are canonically hard to crack, because it makes sense that they don't break during their many fighting events.

Izutsumi really said ◉_◉

Don't tell me Laios, who is sensitive to ghosts has ALSO been seeing things?

Not gonna lie, that's highkey terrifying.

Props to that ghost that's been following Laios around, not ever giving up hope that it can bother him into acknowledging it.

And also - hey, it already saved them once! that means it's probably not evil!

That, or it's the king of the bloody dungeon. Wouldn't that be something!

[lemony-snickers]

hey lemony!! woke up thinking about sick!kakashi. i partially think he would be the type to ignore sickness until it cannot be ignored, and i think when he gets sick, before he gets into a relationship, he would be very good and quick about getting himself better just so he could be sent on missions quicker or whatever. however, after he gets into a relationship, i think he would be the whiny, needy type that drags out his sickness/symptoms just so he could soak up all the care and affection he could get from his partner :)

sorry lemony! one more thing to add to sick kakashi anon is that his dogs would know if he was faking it because they could smell the sickness, and by day 4, pakkun would probably say “you don’t smell sick anymore” while the partner is out of the room and kakashi would just glare at him

hey, anon. i think this is very cute & you are absolutely right.

Kakashi glares at Pakkun as the dog huffs again, already wrinkled brow furrowing. "It's unfair to keep expecting them to wait on you hand and foot."

He sighed, letting his head fall back against the pillow--which you had perfectly placed and fluffed and put a new case on while he bathed that morning. "I know, I know. Just a little longer, okay?"

The pug growled lowly, but said nothing else.

And Kakashi did, in fact, know Pakkun was right. That allowing you to continue caring for him--pampering him, even--was perhaps a little selfish.

There was a time Kakash would never in a thousand years have considered feigning illness. In fact, when he was younger, he was much more likely to feign not being sick even as a fever raged within him, turning his skin pink and sticky, cool to the touch, as ever muscle in his body screamed for respite.

"I'm fine," he would grumble to Tenzo or Yugao, swatting away their hands when they tried to feel his forehead or neck to confirm their suspicions.

But that was a long time ago. That was before he met you.

He never swatted your hands away. Rather, he yearned for your touch the moment it ceased, sometimes whining faintly so you would brush your fingers through his hair, over his cheek soothingly.

Kakashi did not think he had ever craved anything as much as your touch. Not his favorite foods or books. Not even the bleak release of death during his darkest moments.

When you were near him, the awful thoughts quieted, the weight of the world--of his loved ones' sacrifices--lifted just a fraction. He felt like he could breathe easier as long as the two of you shared the same air.

The first time he'd fallen ill, there had been no pretense. He'd simply returned from a mission in rain-soked Amegakure with wet feet and an awful, racking cough. He hadn't even thought to tell you, to take himself off the active duty roster to recuperate.

But then you'd showed up at his door, expression immediately concerned as you reached out to press your wrist against his forehead, frowning when you felt the heat radiating from his skin.

"Are you sick?" you'd asked. He'd shrugged even as his teeth chattered. And then, to Kakashi's utter surprise, you'd dedicated yourself wholly to taking care of him. You made him miso soup, wrapped him in warm, fuzzy blankets you brought from your own house (Kakashi had no such thing in his apartment). You put soothing balm under his nose, made him tea steeped with echinacea. You stopped at the Hokage Tower to let the chunin at the mission desk know he needed to be put on sick leave.

It had all felt so natural, even as it was also foreign. Kakashi could not remember someone ever taking care of him in such a way, though he was sure there had been a time when Sakumo had done so--gingerly placing a warm cloth on his son's forehead between misssions. Kakashi wondered if his mother had ever done the same, when he was far too small to remember.

And it had felt good to be cared for. Fretted over. The warmth of his fever was nothing compared to that which bloomed in his chest as you bustled around his apartment, tidying up because he "needed to rest." You were so naturally good at taking care of others--taking care of him. It made him all the more grateful to have found you.

So the next time he was sick, he didn't think anyone could blame him for milking it just a little. Forcing his coughs to sound a bit raspier, looking up at you with pleading, pathetic eyes when he told you he was cold and could you come here and warm him up.

Now, though, Pakkun had clearly caught on to his game. Kakashi was grateful his summons had at least waited until you left the room to thoroughly sniff his cheek and then gruffly accuse him, "You're not sick anymore, what are you doing?"

What was he doing? Surely you had more important things to attend to than warming a bowl of soup for him and sitting beside him on the bed as he feebly ate.

But wasn't he allowed to be just a little selfish? All those years pushing through the pain of injury and illness... didn't he deserve a little extra care now that he'd found the person who made him feel worthy of it?

You returned to the room with a steaming bowl in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Kakashi recognized the telltale fizz of one of the electrolyte tabs you sometimes dropped in "to make sure you're well-hydrated."

They turned his urine a strange shade of pale orange, but Kakashi didn't have the heart to tell you they were probably just overpriced B-vitamins.

"He isn't sick anymore."

Betrayal, white hot and instantaneous, lanced through him. Kakashi's head whipped toward Pakkun who scratched at one ear with his hind paw, utterly unconcerned.

Kakashi expected you to frown, to chastize him for taking advantage of your goodness.

Instead, you chuckled, which grabbed both his and Pakkun's attention.

When he met your gaze, your smile was full of love Kakashi thought his fever might have returned full force with how warm he suddenly felt, basking in it.

"You think I don't know that?" you asked, and Kakashi felt his cheeks flare with new heat that had nothing to do with his cold. "I don't mind indulging him a little."

You crossed the room and set his lunch on the bedside table, perching on the edge of the bed as you leaned in to kiss his cheek. You combed your fingers through his hair, still smiling, as you added, "Besides, I know he'll make it up to me in other ways."

Pakkun grumbled something vaguely insulting as he hopped off the end of the bed and padded his way out of the room.

Kakashi didn't bother to ask him to repeat himself or chide him for his rudeness. Instead, knowing full well he was no longer sick and so he couldn't pass his illness to you, he pulled you into a sweet, lingering, grateful kiss.

You were right, he would certainly be making this up to you and more.

[strayheartless]

Here have a couple of sort of sad headcanons about Cloud Strife!:

Cloud doesn't like to be percieved. doesn't matter whether its at a company function, the infantry shared Kitchen or seventh heaven. If you draw attention to him he will shut down.

If Cloud had to definitivly give an answer to the 'who's your best friend?' question, he would say him mom. Once he meets Zack he'd say his Mom... and Zack. He doesn’t really care when admitting that, nobody ever cared to be his friend so why should he be ashamed of the people who did. When he finally gets to have a relationship with Tifa it’s difficult to reconcile the fact that she kind of represents both the people he loved and lost, but also she is her own completely different and special person whom he adores.

Cloud was mute as a kid. He was never officially 'diagnosed' with selective mutism, because his mother couldn't affort do take him to a doctor, but that didn't change the fact that for a very long time Cloud lived in such a high state of anxiety that he just didn't dare speak. And when he did it was barely above a whisper and only ever to Claudia.

He had days during his time at shinra where he convinced himself that Zack was getting bored of him and he activly avoided his company until he eventually Zack pushed Cloud to tell them whats wrong.

He doesn't cry. More specifically, he feels as though he can't cry or shouldn't. His friends have only seen him cry maybe once, and at the time he was high as fuck on pain meds. it distressed everyone involved.

If Cloud is dissapointed or Sad he shuts down completely and won't let people touch him.

He doesn't often get Mad mad, but when he does he could level a small town with one look. The only person that has ever seriously been on the wrong side of that stare is Vincent and he never wants to see it again. Its not an 'I'll kill you later' look its a 'I am so viserally angry at you that I cannot actually vocalise how I feel, so instead I am going to look at you like if i stare hard enough you will realise that I am a single step away from hating you. choose your next words carefully' look.

His nail beds are ruined.

There was a period just between the events of FFVII and AC where Clouds Brain -still in the throws of sorting out its mako muddled identity- regressed after nightmares. Nights when Tifa and Barret have had to coax him out of corners. Nights when Marlene has offered her stuffed bunny and climbed into his lap; shocking everyone when Cloud took the bunny and didn’t cry, but he started shaking really badly.

After AC the gang look into getting Cloud a therapy dog. They look for a calm breed but in the end Cloud picks the wiggliest most excitable ball of energy that he can and lets it smother him with love. The dog is just called ‘puppy’ and Cloud refuses to elaborate on why.

Ah look, sadness and sorrow. Why do I torture him so? I will never know

[fizziepopangel]

"You may own my soul, but I ain't your fucking pet!"

He complains about how “everyone wants to bitch to the bartender" but he actually loves that the others all trust him enough to confide in him.

While touch might make him purr, Husk's love languages are actually acts of service and words of affirmation. 

Husk actually really does want Charlie's redemption plan to work, and if it does, he really wants to believe that he would be able to get redemption himself… but he knows Alastor would never allow it and if he's honest, he doesn't believe he deserves redemption. He plans to stay at the hotel as long as Alastor will let him to hopefully help Charlie lead others to the redemption he can't get himself.

He's actually a really good cook when he's drunk, but he can't cook for shit sober.

After selling his soul to Alastor, Husk developed a fear of chains because Alastor often dragged him around on one to try to break him out of the idea that he had a say in what his life would be from then on. Even when not wielded by the radio demon himself, they terrify him, needless to say whips and chains do not excite him.

Fat Nuggets follows Husk around. The little pig absolutely adores the demon cat who pet sits him when his owner is out and sometimes he sneaks into Husk’s room just to sleep on his bed. They’ve learned to check Husk’s room first when Angel can’t find his beloved piggy pal.

Husk’s mother was a drunk and his father was a gambling addict. His mother taught him how to take shots and his father taught him to count cards and rig games.

He doesn’t  wear a shirt with his suspenders because when he arrived in hell, he couldn’t get used to the wings and it was uncomfortable having them stuffed inside his shirt, but he hated trying to maneuver them into the holes in shirts made for demons with wings.

He spawned into hell naked. His suspenders/pants were stolen from a demon he found passed out in an alley because, despite being a cat, he felt uncomfortable naked.

Husk still feels uncomfortable completely naked

Despite being a hell cat, when he was alive, he wasn’t a cat person or a dog person. During his time living, Husk kept birds and often went bird watching when he was sober enough to enjoy it.The one upside Husk found to his new demon appearance was the avian aspects of it.

The one bird-like thing he cannot stand is the molting. He thought the fur was bad when he realized that he shed a little bit, but when he began to mold, he absolutely hated it.

His bowtie and hat are like a security blanket, he refuses to go anywhere or do anything without them. He refused to leave his room when Niffty accidently took his bowtie when getting his dirty laundry for laundry day.

On top of purring and shedding, Husk has a few other feline traits…. One of the ones Charlie tends to find the most adorable is the is the fact that he purrs and he can occasionally be caught napping in sunny spots

Niffty is the only one who knows it, but Husk has a bit of a sweet tooth, she often bakes little treats and snacks and candies on his bed when he seems like he’s having a bad day. Husk enjoys the little treats but he isn’t great at showing her that he appreciates the gesture.

Husk’s mother was a drunk and his father was a gambling addict. His mother taught him how to take shots and his father taught him to count cards and rig games.

He doesn’t wear a shirt with his suspenders because when he arrived in hell, he couldn’t get used to the wings and it was uncomfortable having them stuffed inside his shirt, but he hated trying to maneuver them into the holes in shirts made for demons with wings.

He spawned into hell naked. His suspenders/pants were stolen from a demon he found passed out in an alley because, despite being a cat, he felt uncomfortable naked.

Husk still feels uncomfortable completely naked

Despite being a hell cat, when he was alive, he wasn’t a cat person or a dog person. During his time living, Husk kept birds and often went bird watching when he was sober enough to enjoy it.The one upside Husk found to his new demon appearance was the avian aspects of it.

The one bird-like thing he cannot stand is the molting. He thought the fur was bad when he realized that he shed a little bit, but when he began to mold, he absolutely hated it.

His bowtie and hat are like a security blanket, he refuses to go anywhere or do anything without them. He refused to leave his room when Niffty accidently took his bowtie when getting his dirty laundry for laundry day.

On top of purring and shedding, Husk has a few other feline traits…. One of the ones Charlie tends to find the most adorable is the is the fact that he purrs and he can occasionally be caught napping in sunny spots

Something Charlie has yet to see is the fact that Husk does that little ‘making biscuits’ thing in his sleep when he’s really relaxed. It doesn’t happen often, but Angel has caught it on video once when he found Husk asleep while watching Fat Nuggets…. Husk doesn’t know about this yet.

[hauntedwitch04]

Leaves

Andrew Garfield x reader

Words: 0.7k words

Warnings: none, just fluff and idiots totally in love with each other

Author’s note: Hi everybody! Sorry to be this late, life is just being crazy right now.

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🎃Halloween party 🎃

DAY 6: “I got some leaves on my way here for you, they are really pretty”

Ever since I was little, I have always collected leaves in the fall. It sounds kind of sociopathic, but my mother and I and then with my sisters, for as long as I can remember we have collected the strangest and most beautiful leaves that we found on our walks in the park during the fall.

Although I am no longer a child, I wanted to keep this tradition alive because it makes me feel closer to my family members who now live far away from me.

When I told my fiancé, Andrew, I thought he would think I was crazy instead he told me it was one of the sweetest things he had ever heard and asked if he could participate in this tradition as well, understanding perfectly well if I didn't want to because it was a very personal thing. I had not been able to help but throw myself at his neck, saying that I would love to share that thing with him, because after all for me and for my whole family it was now part of us, but until today he had never done anything to help me with my collection.

I am baking another pan of cookies, to the tunes of "Nightmare before Christmas," when I hear the front door open and close.

"Hello love!" I hear Andrew shout as he hangs up his jacket and takes off his shoes. "The cold weather has finally started!" He says sarcastically as he enters the kitchen, knowing that I was waiting for nothing more, as I hate heat and summer, while loving to death autumn and the cold it brings. In response I tongues at him as I keep humming the songs and then remember what I was supposed to tell him.

"Althea called me, you know about the surprise party for Iara's birthday, and she told me that it will be around three o'clock in the afternoon on Sunday, but that if we want to get there the night before she has a free room." I tell him, while I am still intent on checking the cookies that I am now taking out of the oven to make sure they are ready. I see him go wide-eyed and run off, and immediately I cannot understand his reaction so abruptly to what I have said.

After a few minutes I see him come back with a book, which he rests on the table. I open it and he proudly shows me a bright red leaf, with a few hints of orange, that seems to be almost heart-shaped.

I feel my heart melt inside my rib cage, seeing with how much love and dedication he is showing me what he has found, and I refrain from kissing him there his moment.

"I got some leaves on my way here for you, they are really pretty. This is my favorite, though. Do you like it?" He asks looking at me with those puppy-dog eyes of his, and I can no longer stop myself from leaving a sweet kiss on his lips. He is caught a little off guard, only to immediately return that gesture of affection from me.

"So am I to take it to mean that you liked it?" He says once we break away, giving me that sly little smile that I so badly want to wipe off with a slap.

"I would say yes, in fact I would say he deserves to have his own frame and a place on the fireplace." I reply, before going to get a photo frame, where there is already a picture of us in a park taken by one of our closest friends. I open the frame and place the leaf next to our figures, and close it all up, before putting it back on the fireplace where it was before. We both stay staring at that frame for what seems like hours, him with his arms around my waist and his chest against my back, while I keep my hands on his, hugging a little and enjoying the perfume he is wearing, which I gave him last Christmas. We don't say a word, but there is no need because we can both feel each other's happiness.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

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

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

Words - 7,478

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy Hanukkah-Mas, everyone! 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuckin’ lies!” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Alfie,” she warned. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s it!” 

Some things never changed.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mimi had taught her well.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s kicking me, dad!” 

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

“But dad!” 

“Enough, my son!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How things had changed, and all for the better. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh!”  

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

“Got time for a quickie?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, how she did.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alfie never would either. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That went for all five of them. 

The End.  

[archangel-lucerys]

What I find funny about the team green fandom, especially the aemondwives who have the audacity to call him some kind of visenya reborn badass, when only people he's fought are his mother's lap dog, a 14 year old using his giant dog and then an 80 year old, is the fact they call lucerys a coward.

And for what? Not putting out his own eye? Why would he do that? He is an envoy he's supposed to make this bloodless messenger, and get back with a reply if he entices any form of violence he will be responsible for starting an excursion not aemond.

And lucerys is the one who saw aemond and his giant dog parked outside, still decided to walk inside without hesitation, complete his mission and leave while only reason aemond attacked luverys was because he had an advantage, no other reason, in book he goes out to kill but in show he's a spineless coward who lost control of a dog he set out to hint someone when the prey decided to attack back.

And in book this is parralel to daemon saying "you wouldn't have come if we were matched" which is supposed to be a call back to lucerys walking in even when a stronger foe is inside

That was his first kill a child who didn't only not want to fight him but stopped arrax from firing any further because he was following his mother's orders. And remember aemond "learned history and philosophy" and still attacked an envoy. I would blame him of only ever. Reading the seven pointed star but that does contain the fact you cannot attack an envoy!

[pencil-peach]

G Witch Onscreen Text: Episode 5

Part SEIS of my attempt to transcribe and discuss all the text that appears on screens and tablets in G Witch, because I got that dog in me! This is episode 5, "Reflection in an Icy Eye"

<< Episode 4, if you so dare.

Till and Suletta Boiled Eggs Indulgence.

Shall we begin?

TEXT: WINNER PILOTING DEPARTMENT KP003 ELAN CERES F/D-19 ZOWORT 7 WINS 0 LOSS 0 TIE

At the end of Elan's 3 v 1 duel, we get a look at the Zoworts ID and the fact that he has 7 wins and no losses.

When Bel is speaking to the Peil witches, we get another look at Aerial's profile. What's new here are the terms on the bottom right, those being

PMET LINK PMET SUBLINK BIOINFO LINK PILOT DATA LINK MS DATA LINK INTEGRATED PMET LINK

I could not tell you what any of these mean, BUT I have recorded them for convenience.

The text on Nuno's tablet is very difficult to make out, but we can for sure read CONTROL SYSTEM on the header at the top, so we know that's what he's looking at here. I'll give my best guess as to what the 3 sub-headers say, from top to bottom.

I-MSEACTRL-SYS I-MSEECTRL-SYS 5011-ONCODE

If my transcription is right, the first two are probably meant to be read as something like I - MOBILE SUIT [EA/EE] CONTROL SYSTEM

I'm not as confident in the bottom one though, i think i have ONCODE correctly but I'm not sure if the first half is really 5011, which would be Aerial's Permet Code ID. But it's the only interpretation that makes sense to me because I can only read it otherwise as SETH-ONCODE. And I have my doubts about that one.

Some broader looks at Aliya's divination table

Of course, everyone and their mother would tell you this, but Aliyah points to the stone that landed on the Roman Numeral for 12, wondering if it represents 'a brother' of Suletta's. This is foreshadowing the Eri reveal, as Aerial + the Eri clones that pilot each one of its GUND Bits adds up to 12, meaning Suletta has 12 sisters.

Of course, the stone in the middle represents her mother, and Aliyah comments that it's very big.

I can't help but wonder if Miorine is represented somewhere here as well?

This scene is where we finally get to see the title of the book Elan is reading. As I stated before, this book is The World as Will and Representation (Translated in the show proper as The World as Will and Idea) by Arthur Schopenhauer. The importance of this book to understanding Elan's character cannot be overstated, and it's worthy of its own post, but simplified as far down as possible (and also acknowledging that I have yet to read the essay myself, it's long...I'll get to it though, I promise...)

The two most essential ideas of this work in their relation to Elan are that:

All human suffering and conflict is a result of the "Will" that exists within us: An ever striving force that pushes us to pursue our innermost desires.

In order to reduce the inherent pain and suffering that comes with life's cruelty, one can minimize their desires, and deny the force of their will.

In simpler terms, if you never desire anything from your life, even the idea of living itself, you will never be made to suffer from the lack of it.

From the shows beginning, we can see how Elan completely embodies this philosophy. He denies love, he denies his emotions, he never acts of his own accord, only following the orders he's been given by Bel and the Peil witches.

But that changes when he meets Suletta, because Suletta awakens within him one of his deepest desires. To find someone who is like him, someone who understands him.

But when he realizes that Suletta isn't an Enhanced Person, that he's still completely alone, he can't handle it.

Because he allowed himself to want for something, he invited suffering back into his life when it was something he was not allowed to have.

And now that he's opened his heart to desire, it's not something that can be closed. For the rest of our time with him, we see how this incident with Suletta has broken the spell. When he duels Guel, he tortures him. Shaddiq repeatedly acknowledges that there's been something different about him ever since he was with Suletta.

In the multiple scenes when Elan sees the candle of the birthday cake when he closes his eyes, the flame represents how his will has been relit. It's the flame of his desire. And despite his continued insistence that it doesn't exist, that he still doesn't want anything, doesn't need anything, the flame only keeps growing.

It sparks up when Suletta sings the birthday song to him.

And it all comes to a head during their duel. He immediately starts listing off the things Suletta has that he doesn't. Friends, family, a past and future, even hope. And laments that it's just not fair, demands to know why she can't let him have one thing.

When he fully accepts himself, and remembers the person who celebrated his birthday, he realizes that it was wrong to assume that he had nothing, and to continue to believe that he could never have anything.

But, tragically, in fully accepting his desire, he also had no choice but to accept the suffering that comes with it. And, well.

Yknow.

Anyway in this scene we can see the path that he wants Suletta to take in the testing sector.

We can see that Lauda's Dilanza is registered as such in Asticassia, and its ID code is MD-003 1L. Despite being registered as such, both Elan and Rouji refer to it as "Regolith" in this duel.

This is the Pharact's navigation system. At the bottom, the warning says: ALERT: MALFUNCTION JOINT SENSOR: ACTIVE MINOR DAMAGE FROM [???] STATIC ELECTRICITY.

We can see that the Pharact is showing that the static electricity is damaging its joints. This is where Elan gets the idea of how to defeat Guel.

TEXT: (top to bottom) ALERT DMG CTRL-SYS ON

MD-R-0099[?] RIGHT LEG - [???] DAMAGE

MD-O HEAT AXE - RECOVERED

This shows up on the display when Guel is hit by the Pharact's stun beams for the first time. Though my transcription might not be fully accurate, we can at least glean from this that mobile suit components seem to have their own internal codes used by their various systems. That's cool!

When Guel is immobilized by the static electricity, the warning on his screen reads ANAMOLY DETECTION

Bonus: When Guel first makes it through the stun lasers and approaches Elan, you can actually see the monitor start writing out "TARGET LOCKED" before cutting to the next scene.

They really must have had a whole team of people working on these UI elements and they REALLY gave it their all!

Anyway, that's all!! Sorry that this one kinda took a detour down the Elan train for a bit there! I always get carried away with these things...

Uhh as a reward.... hmm...

One time I saw Shaddiq referred to as "Malibu Sephiroth" and I've never been able to forget it. It's so real. God Damnit.

Click here to go to Episode 6! >>

Click here to go to the Masterpost!

[autumnaaltonen]

Hello! :) I was wondering if you can do a, Alucard x short human reader. ((She or they whichever))

Where maybe the reader is a professional vampire hunter and just newly intern into Helsing. An at first look she seems weak and nonthreatening. But once they get into the battlefield or get threat at the manor, they're kicking ass like the tiny little menace that they are. Like they prefer close combat than out range and due to their small stature they move pretty quickly against big enemies.

((I like to think of her as a mini Mirko lmao))

I am 5'9 and cannot sympathise with the plights of smaller folk 😂

That being said, my mother and all of my friends are under 5'5, so I think I can do this 👍

You were initially hired as a member of Hellsing's taskforce.

Having spent years hunting vampires as a solo assassin, you had more than enough skills to hold your own against creatures of the night.

Not that any of your coworkers believed you.

Everyone stood a solid foot above you, I mean, it was ridiculous. What were these people eating?

The workplace also presented a physical disadvantage.

The shelves and hook carrying tactical gear were always just out of reach, your uniform was on the baggy side, and you were dwarfed by the bullet-proof vests provided for marksmanship training.

More often than not, you were left out of group training exercises, teased during break hours, and the last chosen for missions on the field. It was more than frustrating, but you still spent your free time training on the grounds and further honing your skills.

When you eventually met Alucard, he was also a bit of a pain.

He belittled your small stature, calling you a "piece of dog kibble" and that you should "get out while you can before the wolves snatch you up."

But then everything changed when the Fire Nation Valentine Brothers attacked.

While your comrades were being slaughtered, you were cutting through ghouls like they were salami on a charcuterie board.

You were able to weave through their sloppy formations with ease, taking knives, ammunition and explosives off of the ghouls tactical belts as you butchered them one by one.

You even happened to pass by Jan Valentine at one point during the battle, grabbing one of the guns in his holster and getting a good shot behind his knee before disappearing back into the chaos.

"What the shitballs was that!?"

It's 1999, Jan, year of the rabbit 🖕🐰

By the time the battle was finished, you were CAKED in ghoul blood. Picture Carrie in a Kevlar vest with 2 combat knives and a semi-auto strapped to her back.

Meeting up with the survivors, Integra didn't immediately recognize you due to the fact you were always overshadowed by the giant soldiers (they dead now), but you definetley stood out in your own way.

The following week, you were promoted to Captain and put in charge of training the Flying Geese into proper vampire killers.

Alucard, still unconvinced that the mercenaries were worth their salt, watched as you proceeded to kick their asses through every training exercise, weaving around them like Walter's fibreglass wires.

The Geese even gave you a nickname: "The Virus." Because while not visible to the eye, you could take down entire biosystems of freaks before they could say "shitballs".

For the first time in a while, Alucard had to swallow his pride and admit he underestimated you.

But it didn't stop there.

After joining Alucard and Seras on a couple of private missions, the three of you became thick as thieves, especially you and Alucard.

The dichotomy between you two made for an interesting duo. The monstrous vampire king and the petite human hunter, it was almost like a sitcom.

While you continued to prove time and again that you were more than capable of pulling your own, Alucard would never stop being protective of you. He was always watching your back, shooting freaks from a distance while you run into the heart of the fight.

You would always be his little rabbit, but never forgot that this rabbit was a carnivore.

[moreespressoformydepresso]

Is there any Descendants kids names you want to change if you were to work with Descendants?

Li Shang Jr. hands down. In my post about Lonnie and Shang I explained my reasoning for it but the short version is that it’s lazy. Naming in China is more than just something sounding pretty. Names have meanings and are picked carefully, because as I understand it a common belief is that a good name brings good luck and a bad name brings bad luck. Mulan and Li Shang wouldn’t cheap out by tacking on a Jr for their son. And again, it’s just so lazy! There are so many beautiful Chinese names they could have picked and they couldn’t be bothered?? If it was really that big of an issue… they gave Lonnie a western name, so why not just give the poor boy his own name too?!?! I don’t get it and it frustrates me to no end. I hate it.

Same for Bashful Jr. and Sleepy Jr. I get he’s a minor character but there are so many names starting with a B like- for all I care just consult a random naming generator at least it’ll feel like you put in some effort. At least with Gaston’s kids Gaston Jr. and Gaston the Third it makes sense. Their names are perfect because Gaston is a self-obsessed jerk, of course he’d name his children after himself.

Red, from the rise of Red, because wtf kind of name is that? Her mother is the Red Queen, this just feels kinda lazy again. Ruby would have been better, even though I know there’s a daughter of Rapunzel already called that. It would be better and we already have two Harries so clearly double naming isn’t a problem. Ruby’s a shade of red, and it sounds like an actual name at least! But while we’re on the topic of double names…

Harry Hook or Harry Badun, because it’s a little confusing to have two Harry’s in a story when there doesn’t need to be (I say, while not complaining about the many Michaels in Percy Jackson). For real though there aren’t that many named characters in Descendants so why not just pick another H name?

Jokingly, I would change Mal’s name because I’m tired of reading about the trope that her full name is Malificent. Listen people, if the good ol’ mistress of evil really wanted to be a bitch, this is not what she’d do. This implies Mal could become good enough. If anything, she’d just call her Mal as a way of saying she’ll never be at her mother’s level in any way. No matter how hard she tries, she’ll always be the lesser version. The reduction. She cannot earn her full name, because she’ll never be as powerful/evil as her mother. It’s impossible.

Celia, because she breaks the naming conventions of this universe and it bothers me. I really like the name Celia, so if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s Facilier I’d change Freddie’s name to one starting with a C. But alas :/

Jane, for the same reason. Fairy Godmother means either an F or a G, because those are the initials for Fairy Godmother. Plenty of options to pick from, so while I get the nod to her being a Plain Jane it just doesn’t work for me.

Dude the dog, because I just don’t like it.

Maybe Herkie? It kinda sounds like a nickname for Hercules. Hiero might fit, because it means “priest” or “sacred” and both of his parents are gods. But I can live with Herkie because it’s kind of cute and I can accept it.

Exact same story for Morgie. It sounds like a nickname, but it’s lowkey cute so eh fine.

In strictly universe-consistency terms, I’f have to say Hermie Bing. However, since she was named after the Ringmaster’s voice actor Herman Bing I’ll let it slide.

Pin, son of Pinocchio. Why? Just… just why?

[sunarin4256]

TWST Demigod headcannons

Heartslabyul

Riddle: unsurprisingly son of Apollo. His father is the god of music, medicine and archery as well as God of the sun. Surprisingly, Riddle's specialty was not medicine, much to his mother's chagrin. He is an exceptionally skilled archer and a decent musician, unfortunately Riddle is more likely to take a life by accident trying to save it than save it. Because that is the curse of Apollo children; you're excellent at one thing associated with him, so so at another, and absolute dog water at the third.

Trey: Son of Demeter. He is skilled with plants and has his own garden. That's why his sweets and treats are so delicious, because most of them have fresh grown ingredients, that are probably laced with the blessing of a Demeter's child.

Ace: Now based on his behavior , one might assume he's a child of Hermes. But you're wrong. He's a child of Apollo, like Riddle. However he excels in music, but don't hand him a bow and arrow, he'll end up hitting everything but the target. All the traits that make him seem like a child of Hermes were things he learned from his older brother who is a child of Hermes.

Deuce: our little loosey deucey is a son of Hades. I like to believe that the main reason for his abundance of fights in middle school were due to broken oaths, promises and lies; the things Hades and his children, do not like. Now in consideration of the big three Hades happens to be the shortest. while most of his kids have inherited his short gene, Deuce didn't, he got the blind gene. Most days he wears contacts, but on the off chance he's wearing glasses, leave the poor dude alone his head hurts from wearing contacts for two weeks straight again. He's always on time to class and it freaks people day that he seems to appear from shady corners, which he does, children of the underworld are able to do something called shadow travel, which kinda speaks for itself. Now unfortunately children of Hades do not regain strength in a similar fashion to other demigods. While other demigods use nectar and ambrosia to heal, children of Hades need sugar, this means he constantly has some sugary drink on him, which actually infuriates Riddle to no end.

Cater: son of Dionysus, the god of wine, theater and dolphins(don't ask) the train Carter is able to mask his sadness so well is because his strong suit is acting. Cater has a thing for grapes, it kinda just sits in his decor without his notice. When he avoids juice because if he gets mad near it it ferments so it either makes alcohol and he gets in trouble or it makes stinky old juice.

Savanaclaw

Leona: son of Thanatos. Now one might think that his napping habits would warrant him a spot in cabin 15 (Hypnos cabin) but you are incorrect. He's a child of Thanatos, the incarnation of death, which is pretty befitting considering how his unique magic basically makes him that in his home. When not under the spell he's under, causes him to take on his cousin's(child of Hypnos) exhaustion -because they work at a pace and schedule that all the sleeping they would usually do cannot be done- Leona is a diligent and hyperfocused worker. That's the reason he passes his classes now. He, as a child of the underworld, is capable of shadow travel and uses it to avoid ruggie- it's dumb cause he can do it too- and find peaceful places to nap away from rook.

Jack: son of Aphrodite. Now alot of people at camp assume he's an Ares camper, as a matter of fact it's what he assumed (and secretly hoped for)when he got there. However when he was claimed by his mother he wasn't upset. He is a very standoffish person due to the nature of being a child of Aphrodite. Most people assume they're a bunch of superficial bimbos (some of em are, but don't tell anyone Jack said that) so it always shocks them when they find out jack is one of them. The reason people are drawn to him is due to his godly parentage and it causes him to ward away anyone who approaches him. But underneath all that rough and tumble he's a big sweetheart with a soft spot for plants, romance, and a good bubble bath.

Ruggie: son of Hades. Now THIS is one of the Hades kids who inherited the short gene. He's small dark and cunning, sure to the way he grew up most assume he's a son of Hermes, but he just can't help but steal stuff (unfortunate kleptomaniac) he loves pomegranates the smell and the taste. He always smells like the fruit and is nearly always holding one. One thing that freaks people out about ruggie is that he seems to always be talking to air. What they don't know is that ruggie can see and communicate with the dead. He ends up talking to students' passed pets and/or family members half of the time. Since he's a child of the underworld he's capable of shadow travel, but doesn't really use it unless he's struggling to find Leona, in these cases he flips down on top of (to be a nuisance) or beside him and chows down on the pomegranate he'd stowed in his pocket.

Octavinelle

Azul: son of Athena. Why do you think he's so dang smart? Everything is essentially a battle strategy to him which makes it easier. The main reason he was bad at school in his formative years before he started going ham with the studying was because he was dyslexic. He still is but reading is easier now. Is oddly attached to the moon. When nervous or overstimulated he tends to burst into random ancient Greek.

Jade: son of Zeus. I know he's afraid of heights but it's funny. When he gets upset(very rarely) storms begin brewing. Seeks out the rain eagerly during storms. Had accidentally zapped people in a pool due to extreme excitement (we all know Jade doesn't express himself often so that zap was all the excitement showing itself)

Floyd: oddly enough soon of Poseidon. Crazy to think the twins have different dads. Anywho, Zeus can't tell the two apart so Floyd is the only non Zeus big three kid that's safe in the sky. He lives the ocean and loves water in general, thought it was normal to talk to regular fish as a kid until he beat another mer up for making fun of him for talking to regular fish. Bro was flabbergasted when he found out he could speak to horses. Visits the equestrian club solely for the horses. His mood changes like the tide.

Scarabia

Jamil: son of Aphrodite. First of all, you should have seen this coming- look at him... He's gorgeous. His unique magic is actually a branch off of his demigod powers. Being a child of Aphrodite granted him the power of charm speak. This means that any and all people without the power or any power adjacent to it, that are attracted to men (crucial detail) are able to be... Persuaded to do or say anything he asks of them. he's also blessed with the ability to rock any outfit/hj

Kalim: son of Hephaestus. He's loud and optimistic, but also extremely innovative. Builds little mini machines when he can't sit still. sweater pockets are constantly filled with little mini gears. He is extremely kind hearted and it shocks other Hephaestus kids how he is based on his upbringing. Is nearly always covered in oil or soot when not around his family or at school. Has built Lilia a fully functioning guitar with no explanation for his birthday.

Pomefiore

Vil: child of Hypnos. It's funny because what his father does best is sleep and vil is far too busy to do that so all the exhaustion he has is transferred to his cousin, (Leona), which is why he sleeps like the dead at night. He loves a good spa day (because he naps most of it)

Rook: son of Zeus. Kind of explains his creep tendencies. Loves the sky more than anything and spends time frolicking in thunderstorms. Flies way too high on the broom without a care in the world, casually drops from the sky for funsies.

Epel: son of Pluto. Hates broken promises. When he's nervous or upset gems and precious metals tend to pop up at his feet. Sometimes shadows are shifty near him and it freaks people out. Loves flying in his broom but is terrified of going into the sky (Zeus will strike all who are his brothers' children down) loves working on the orchard, is terrified of killing the trees in an emotional outburst.

Ignihyde

Idia and Ortho: legacies of Pluto. They're both descendants of a child of Pluto. That might explain the flaming hair. But it also explains idia's paleness. Idia wants so desperately what every child of the underworld can do, to melt into the shadows, however his hair puts him at an advantage because he creates constant shadows that he has complete and total control over. I can't say much for Ortho but he had powers unknown before... The accident.

Diasomnia

Malleus: son of Neptune. When he gets upset bro accidentally conjures a full on hurricane. Constantly smells like the ocean despite never having been there. If he angry laughs the ground trembles. As a dragon he's able to fly but doesn't because.... Well Zeus. Doesn't really understand the appeal of land, has tried many times to escape the castle for the sole purpose of getting in some kind of water (he failed miserably)

Lilia: son of Hades. You want to know how he appears behind people? Now you do; shadow travel. Is a hater of broken promises. Knows where his kids are because of the shadows. When he's pissed things die... Plants, animals... The odd person. Nothing too bad. Loves his little brothers with his whole heart. Likes tomatoes like ruggie likes pomegranates.

Sebek: son of Mars. It explains his amazing fighting prowess and his capacity for war plans. Rides horses because they're crucial to war but prefers spears to swords (he would never tell Lilia that) and enjoys sparring with Silver for the occasional jolt.

Silver: son of Jupiter, champion of Pluto. While he's a son of Jupiter, giving him control over the wind and sky he prefers the darkness, mostly because of how he was raised. Pledged himself to Pluto to remain with Lilia (Lilia's father was rather touched to say the least [he cried like a baby in pure joy for his son]) it's hard to piss silver off but once he's mad a tornado is forming. When he's pissed he takes everybody out. Has zapped Sebek while in a stream as children and got thoroughly praised for it oddly enough. Has fallen asleep in the sky.

[i-would-get-in-the-water-naked]

Zeus character design and headcanons

art not mine. created by:

Headcanons

if you get confused about the Gods' family tree, i will make one and post it later

He's technically the youngest of the Gods (he was born last), however, because his siblings were dead for the first 16 years of his life, he is now the middle child (and acts like it).

He's also the only one who wasn't marked by Cronus' killing spree and is the only one without any significant trauma connected to that event.

Deep inside, he's very prideful, which is one of his flaws his older brother Poseidon cannot stand. Little does Poseidon know that this is just a mere defence mechanism. Zeus' ego is very fragile so he tends to hide it behind the unhealthy "I'm the fucking best" type of mindset.

He's a very naturally skilled and gifted person when it comes to fighting, and yet he does everything he can to avoid conflict if there's nothing he could get from it.

He's very carefree and not much responsible which drives the other Gods crazy. When he fucks up though, he makes sure to put things back together and fix everything he can. He's learning and he's trying.

He's a terrible father. The way he's never had one (he was raised by Hera's mother) made him not know how to raise his own children. He feels bad about it and really tries to fix how he gets along with his kids, but can't find the right way to do so and always ends up messing it up.

Speaking of which, he loves his family. His wife Hera is his one and only true love and he doesn't forget to show it to her. He often finds it funny how the mortals interpreted their family tree and would probably laugh out loud if you asked him if Hera was really his sister.

The same goes for the "he had kids with more than 100 women" fact. Not true - most of these demigod kids never existed and if they did, they weren't his. Except for Heracles, who was... Well... Let's just say Hera and Zeus got bored of being alone in bed.

He. Loves. Scarfs. If you ever want to make him happy, give him a scarf. Why? No reason. He just likes having something fluffy around his neck.

He's fruity and doesn't even know about it. Hera often doubts his sexuality and his reaction is always "WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?" and then proceeds to have a crisis about whether he likes men or not.

He likes cats. Hera likes dogs. They have a dog and a cat. The dog loves Zeus, and the cat loves Hera. But they HATE each other.

Oh, and he definitely uses some kind of product to keep his hair shiny.

[dangermousie]

Farscape rewatch - Won’t Get Fooled Again, 2x15

Won't Get Fooled Again is one of my all time favorite episodes. In fact, it is in the running for THE favorite non-multi-parter, together with Terra Firma and Constellation of Doubt (both from S4). Its mixture of genuine hilarity and equally genuine dark horror is so on brand.

(The whole show summed up.)

I love how a little off-kilter it is even in the beginning: when John wakes up in a world that's a little too candy-bright, too sharp-lit and there is discordant music throughout, in the background but insistent.

I love his reactions to yet another species messing with his mind: it starts as a blase-angry acceptance, a sort of weariness tinged with hysteria. 'Oh, we are at it again’ (the list of possible instigators he rattles off tells its own tale but it ends up none of them but yet someone else) but this emotion is something that degenerates into panic and devastation soon enough, because Crichton, no matter how he likes to pretend, is simply not twisted enough for the games others play with him.

And of course the layer cake of horrors keeps building - not just with events and interactions inside his mind which get more and more awful but in discovery of what is going on - not just the discovery that he has a chip of Scorpius in his mind but that now that he’s a target of Scorpius this means he’s a target of Scarrans because they want to know why Scorpius wants him - we have started on the path where he becomes the most wanted man in the Galaxy with all its adjacent horrors (and I will always like Farscape that all of it starts with a good and selfless deeds - the ancients in a moment of kindness gave him a path to eventually go home. And John went down to the Peacekeeper Base to save Aeryn. And all this brings is madness and pain. Goodness does not guarantee anything; it truly is its own reward because there is nothing else you can gain from it. But the ancients really did pick right, didn’t they? John is smart and stubborn and good enough to fight the universe to protect wormholes; he’s probably the most appropriate person, and it still ends up being almost not enough.) And of course, the offhand comment Chip Scorpy makes that no, John has been approaching this all wrong - Scarran doesn’t want to fool him, he wants to break him. There is always another additional layer of cruelty and unreason Crichton does not anticipate because he’s simply not twisted enough.

This episode has some utterly hilarious moments (Crais in Dorothy’s heels reading the world’s most twisted version of Miranda’s rights, Rygel as the boss, anything with D'Argo), some moments that are both funny and disturbing, and then some moments that are truly horrifying. Starting with when John's dead mother is first brought up, the Scarran can tell that he has hit something that will help him drive Crichton over the edge, and the whole thing turns repulsive pretty quick. It starts with her talking to him, and it kills me that even though he knows she is dead, and that he tries to fight it, he can't help but want to be hugged, to be held by her again. He holds her even as he breaks down and he just looks so weary. And her comment about his lost innocence, and the fact that he has killed and that is why he cannot sleep at night is just...it's so enormous, because it's of course, his own subconscious talking to him here, but he so wants to believe he is worthy of consolation.

And then later, in one of  the most wrenching scenes, she appears again, with the IV and sick, and  probably the way she looked as she was dying and begs him to stay with  her 'this time' and he just goes to pieces, and he is weeping,  unprettily, he looks utterly destroyed and is crying 'this is cruel,  this is cruel' and stumbles away. He begs for it to stop but in that world, begging is not a signal for mercy but to go harder. That is just KILLER.

Or the bit where he sees his parents bicker over whether it's better to have him or a dog. And then there is the 'Oedipal' scene where she tries to seduce him and I get full body shudders. Farscape never shied away from taboos or oddness, witness the scene in the same ep with Rygel in dominator outfit telling “bitches” Chiana, Zhaan and Aeryn to get out of the way “Crichton is mine:”

(Side note - I actually love that in real world or nightmares, Crichton is most often the victim and target of violence or mindfucks or just plain cruelty and not all-mighty victor or perpetrator of same or w/e. He is smart and tough but guess what, there is always someone in the universe who can be smarter or tougher and definitely infinitely more evil and willing to cross lines he’s not willing to cross and not coming always on top does not make him weak, it just makes him human.)

But that scene with his mother is one of the closest I ever came to watching through my fingers. The wonder is not that Crichton goes insane by the end of this season, but that it took this long!  

Another thing that is so notable is Crichton's off-hand nihilism. How different from the other, earlier 'mess up his mind’ ep, AHR: he crashes the car he is in, he shoots at the assembled fake Moyans. And there is no pause, he just does it: he doesn't know what it would lead to, but his reaction is almost automatic. The scenes with Harvey (and that is the ep he gets named in!) are brilliant: Crichton, laughing without any mirth, naming his chip (because everything is so insane, this is about the most sane thing of the bunch), Harvey revealing everything only to erase it. The last scene when Crichton tries to mouth what he has learned and not being about to make sounds, able to at first, only through sheer stubbornness, but then losing even that. That so made me think of end of S2 and him equally mute, contorted on the surgical table.

And, of course, Aeryn. This time I noticed that when 'Bettina' kisses 'Gary,' even though he knows both are fakes, the look he gives them? Whoa.

Or that his first reaction when he first sees her in that world is to ask for help because he is so used to her being on his side (but this world is less comforting than AHR and any assistance is taken from him.)

But you know what gets me even more? The scene with the disco ball. Because John's subconscious believed more than anything that Aeryn would come and save him. After all, she 'is the Radiant Aeryn Sun.'  And all he got was another mindfuck.

(the way he gropes for her boot!)

Yeah. This ep is funny, heartbreaking, brilliant and disturbing. You know what struck me this time? There is so much hurt, but no comfort at all. It ends as disorientingly as it begins with John in that shaft, mind recently erased, recently brought back from clinical death, having to find his own way out, having just lost crucial knowledge and not knowing it, nobody around. All hurt no comfort.

PS the fact that Crichton only survives with his mind intact because someone else has already hijacked his mind is one of the darkest mindfucks in this show. He does not win against the Scarran through strength of mind or power of will. He wins because he’s already enslaved and claimed.

[docholligay]

Marrowbone

Thank you so much to @iscahwynn for buying this from me for my mother's birthday trip! I am happy to say this is SOLD OUT FOR THE YEAR. (And I have no idea if it'll come back next year--I don't think I have a major trip to help with) In October, I'll be doing Hero, and in November, I'll be doing Parasite. Keep your eyes peeled if a book is of interest to you, and then after I get my schedule done, there may be some other ancillaries!

This is a Spanish horror film in English. That isn’t me saying that everything inspired by a different film is stealing it, this is me saying a Spanish writer and a Spanish director made a film in English, and it is very Spanish in feel and in the sort of ���scare” we’re offering up. Me putting that in quotation marks makes it seem like I don’t appreciate Spanish horror but Spanish horror is in fact my very favorite if we have to pin down extremely large and broad swaths of movie by country. However, I understand why a movie like this would not necessarily be appreciated by a lot of fans of horr or casual horror watchers. It’s pensive, it’s slow, it doesn’t have a lot in the way of actual ‘scares’ because that’s just not, by and large, what Spanish horror films DO. If someone is looking for a film that involves a lot of the American style of extreme tension and release (Which I also enjoy. This is absolutely not me dogging on American horror.) then this film really isn’t for you. 

BUT, if you love the idea of pursuit in an emotional sense, of the walls closing in and reality coming for you as you attempt to hide from it, this might be right up your alley. Is it as good as The Orphanage? No, I’m not sure I think it is. It’s really missing some of those ‘pop’ moments, like “toca la pared’ in its driving force, and I think a couple of the characters feel a little half-formed, but it is a deeply enjoyable film if you are a fan of this style of horror film

Horror is always a difficult medium because what horror is and means to people is so different. It’s like comedy, only I would argue that people seem to realize more easily that comedy is extremely personal. Horror is the same. Not just ‘what scares you’ though that as well, but ‘what are looking for in a horror? What does that mean to you?’ 

So, Me: In horror I generally want a supernatural base for a story, and I prefer it to say something, though i am totally fine with “Isn’t this fucked up?” as long as the tension is well balanced and i don’t feel insulted. I tend to prefer ghost stories where there is some sort of explanation for the haunting, as is more common in European and American stories, and truly adore possession stories. When it comes to what i like horror movies to be about, many things, but I’m very fond of memory, and history, and guilt, and what the idea of a person is. 

All this to say that in many ways, this is tailored to me. 

Jack is this axis upon which the family spins, even long before his mother dies, the stable and straightforward one. Each of the siblings has their own role, but it matters that Jack is the one to survive because in truth he’s the only one that could survive. And with his mother dead, he has to keep this massive secret. I would argue with a great many parts of this whole “We have to hide that our mother is dead to the extent that we cannot fucking leave the house in rural Maine” and as someone who has lived in rural America most of my life, I am not sure that it holds up in narrative court, but ultimately it’s not so distracting that it pulls me out of the story. It’s part and parcel of how the story has to work, though it DID make me figure out they were dead. Jack is under immense strain, though, even before they die. It’s plucking at the fabric of his mental state long before his father comes and kills everyone. 

(For all being confused by the fact that he can’t do anything until he’s 21, the age of majority in the US was not 18 (I would argue it still is not, but that’s a different post entirely) in the US until 1971, in the wake of the Vietnam War and specifically the draft. Not that he would have been in much better shape in the UK--the age of majority became 18 there only in 1969.)

But when they ARE killed, they come back to save his life (according to Jack’s version of them*) and they are all aspects of Jack. It’s important to remember that Jack is actually doing everything for himself. So, Jane is the nurturing aspect of Jack’s self, the one who cooks and cares and soothes, Billy is his anger, his ability to destroy and to kill--at the end, it’s the voice of Billy that goes, “let me do this”--and of course Sam is his innocence, Jack’s need to be protected and cared for, the part of him that is afraid and young. On a rewatch, it’s actually pretty easy to see how their personalities change to fit these incredibly broad strokes after they die, because our memories of people are not those people. They are the coastal outlines of how we remember them. Jack is saved by the aspects of the people he loved. 

I want to DO something with the idea that the family escapes England, runs from it, to come to America, and the exact same trouble that they had in England follows them here. The same murder and abuse and pain comes for them anyway, a sea between them. And the mother is from Maine, or her family is. I’m not sure what to do with all of that, but it feels like that’s so much work to simply be a coincidence. But I’m not just not sure what to do with it. I could do a whole idea about the very formation of America, about this idea that is very much a part of the building of the American idea where your history is anew the second you step over the border, where you are far enough away from the ‘old world’ that you can escape its horrors. But you can’t. It comes for you, it comes down the chimney, it kills the things you love, and is this part and parcel of the inescapable horror of Where You Come From? I don’t know that I LOVE that as an answer, it feels imperfect to me, but I feel like that’s such a very specific choice, especially with taking the money from there, that there has to be something in it. 

And I mean, that doesn’t have to be specifically about the US and the UK, you could say the same thing about Spain and Mexico, to bring it back to the writer/director, where there are so many good things about the US/Mexico, but also horrors that have been inherited from the UK/Spain, and it is impossible to live in a house that was built for people across the shore and to keep out the horrors. 

On that note, let’s talk about Tom, who is a little mustache-twirling for my tastes in a movie that is essentially about escape and memory and how we choose to live with tragedy.  I’m not sure if this has anything to do with The UK, sure, but specifically England--and this family is specifically English--and the US have a really difficult history, we are family of a kind, but we can also resist each other and be pretty cruel to one another. This feels like a kind of anger, a kind of resentment that no matter how well you do, no matter how absolutely ruined Jack/the UK is, he’s preferred for what? Suffering in silence instead of wanting more? ALSO ALSO, and I don’t know that the writers even knew this, but it could be something about how the well-being of the UK has, for at least the last 70-odd years, been tied in a large way to the well-being of the US. The two worst recessions in the Uk before the pandemic were tied to US CRISES. The recession in the early 00s, the worst in the UK since WW2, was tied to OUR subprime mortgage crisis. In the 90s? Tied to our savings and loan crisis. We are inevitably fucking tied to each other, and also we hate each other. I was going to write something else, but I’m getting off-track, and I don’t know if I think this is totally supported by the narrative, but I want to do something with Tom that is more than ‘mean antagonist’ and so I’m standing here before you with a list of recessions in the Uk going “Is this anything?”

I actually think Anya Taylor-Joy is a bit wasted here, as her character requires very little, and is mainly an accessory and an idea to everything that is happening. Maybe I’m underselling it--it’s completely possible that without Taylor-Joy, the character would become so weak and one-dimensional as to be annoying, and she never really does that, she feels unexceptional and real, and that is enough. 

This is by design, of course. WE are Allie. We immediately fall in love with the family and are kept emotionally distant from the reality of their situation. We understand things only as they come to us through Jack. We have to rely on his version of events. Remember the ‘reveal’ is through his little book. We choose to believe him, because like Allie, we love him. 

So Iscah asked me what I think of the ending and specifically what I think of the idea, as put it “that it seems to be cast as positive” that he is still seeing his family. Do I think it’s being cast as positive? I don’t know if I do. I do think it is designed to put him in sharp contrast with his mother, who has everyone step over the line and forget everything that came before, and even when Jack himself does this, it’s to forget something instant and specific. I think part of what’s it’s saying is that what his mother attempts is impossible. That our pasts and our presents are impossibly tied up in one another, and to set it aside is going to end in tragedy. And, in fairness, maybe that makes it correct that Jack’s still living ‘with’ his siblings. 

 It’s certainly not being cast as fully negative, I’ll give you that all day long, but I don’t know if I fully agree that it’s being cast as positive. It’s sort of cast as neutral. If it were cast as positive I’d argue that he would be living a richer, fuller life. When we come upon him, we don’t even really interact with him, Allie comes upon him sleeping on the porch, and wakes him up. There’s no indication that he’s helped by the haunting of his siblings. There’s no indication he ever leaves the house.  Now, could he someday end up having a good life, with something he enjoys doing, and marrying Allie, fixing up the house, al the things he’d like to do? Sure, perhaps. But also could he end up essentially always sitting on that porch staring into the field. 

I do think that is the point, actually. That he could go either way, now. That he has decided, and Allie has decided, that living with the denial of what’s happened is better than living with the reality of what has, and whatever happens after there is still up to them. He was going into town and making cakes and selling things and all that when he was hallucinating his family as alive, so there’s really no reason why he can’t learn to repair plaster and lath while Billy holds the ladder or whatever. I realize I’m being a little flippant about it, but I think when you’re dealing with being, we’ll just call it odd for the sake of casting a wide net, you can learn to live with it, and learn to be a reasonably happy person with it, most of the time. You may not do everything the way other people do, but you can learn to make it work. 

In all, I really enjoyed this movie, but I don’t know that I would say it’s a slam dunk. The characterization really leaves something to be desired, and while I am absolutely making things out of it, I have no idea how much of that is based in intention and how much of it is simply me seeing what I’d like to see. The dialogue is sometimes very stilted, and while I think the idea is fantastic, I think the execution needs a little massaging. All that said, I love this kind of movie and so I would happily recommend it to anyone else who ALSO likes this kind of movie. 

*This brings me to a very very interesting point, which is: Do they come back, or are they only figments of Jack’s imagination? You might say, ‘Well, Doc, the doctor says that he’s nuts, and even you said that every single one of them is an aspect of Jack.” Listen just because I said something doesn’t mean I’m not going to argue with it literally five minutes later, and also, this could be something that almost BECOMES a possession narrative. Is there a chance that he 

On that note, I don’t actually think the narrative believes this or backs this, because we have Allie physically and literally see his father, but an interesting idea that his father is also an aspect of himself and he killed his siblings under the pressure of caring for them. Note that I don’t think the story bears that out and I don’t think that’s the intention of the film, but it’s an interesting thought experiment. But it’s at the bottom because I don’t think it’s ‘real’.

[lake-archive]

Jealous? No Way!

AO3 Link - Bungo Stray Dogs Selfship / Yumeship Collection

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs

Characters: Osamu Dazai, Annette 'Ann' Dorste-Hülshoff (OC)

Pairing: Annzai (Dazai/Ann)

Words: 1,301

When on shift it was not rare for Ann to spot the menace at Café Uzumaki. Or rather, the guy they had started to refer to as ‘the menace’, mainly because they did not want to call him by his name. And yet, they would have to when on duty. Actually, at all times. They could only call him a menace in their head and their head alone. It was the only name he deserved, at least in their humble opinion. His actual name though was Osamu Dazai. Yes, the Osamu Dazai, part of The Armed Detective Agency. The known nuisance and yet also the guy they had been stuck with for two whole years now. All because of their father’s final letter, his last wish. Well, it wasn’t a wish per se but more a request and Ann was never going to deny their late father. 

“If this reaches your hands, I have long passed on. I apologize for having failed you and your mother in the most crucial part of your lives. No, scratch that, I apologize for having failed the both of you. The family I swore to protect all those years ago… Nothing can reverse my mistakes. I will have to die, knowing that our family will never be the same ever again. Your mother is a strong woman, I am sure she knows how to handle herself. In fact, she might have stayed in safety, as she had been advised to do.

But as for you Ann… I know curiosity is going to get the better of you. You have always been the type of kid who gets her nose into someone else’s business. You have done so since kindergarten and have never failed to impress us with your next big adventure. Therefore I have left you our little cat behind. Ole should already know what to do. Besides, you two seem to be inseparable. He has inherited my ability already, you do not have to fear for him. He will be of assistance. 

But he won’t have to do it alone. There is a young man around your age I have met some years ago. While he has his habits I’m sure you will not like at first, he is more than meets the eye. You will come to notice these qualities quickly.  I have asked him for a few favors to take on after my passing. I’m sure you will know who it is when you see him. After all, the same exact man has led you to the destination of this letter once the time is right. I will leave you in his care. Of course, I am well aware that I cannot force you. But please, at least consider. He agreed to take you in during your times of need.

I wish I could have said goodbye to you and your mother. If I knew that the night of my disappearance would have been my last night with you two, I would have told you all I wanted to say and more. But this man is dead. He will never open his mouth ever again. The most he can do is watch over you from above and guard you from there. I apologize for leaving you all by yourselves, it was never my intention. I wanted to protect our family more than anything, but I failed. All I can do is apologize yet I will never expect you to forgive me. After all, what good of a father leaves his daughter, wife and little buddy all by themselves? I failed you, and I have finally paid for this failure.

But know that I will love you all, always

Karl May”

 

His last words, written down. Well, his last words were directed towards his own child. They will never find out what the true last words were. Was he thinking about them perhaps? And by them Ann means not just themself, but also their mother and even Ole? Was that their father’s last thought? And it was all still weighing heavily on Ann all the same, even after two whole years. They had learned of his passing and yet it was something difficult to get over. Sometimes they wondered if they truly could get over, accepting the fact that he was just gone. Accept the fact that they will never ever see their own mother again, having been forced to cut ties with her out of her own safety. She wanted nothing to do with this after all and it was for the better. Ann? They were at the point of knowing too much, there was no turning back ever since opening the letter. They knew, they did not need to be told. Someone could hunt them at any given point, solely for being ‘the daughter of Karl May’, the guy who got involved with the wrong people and got himself shot in the head. 

This is only why they accepted their father’s request, his final request. He cannot force them, yes. Especially not now. But they wanted to respect it, respect him. It was the least they owed him. Father would blame himself to fail and yet he was not at fault… It was hard for Ann to believe that he was at least. He acted for his family until his last breath. And even if it was to keep them away from them, he would have done so with the intention of keeping his family safe. That’s the type of man Ann remembered and always will remember. His judgment was absolute, one they could trust… Or hoped they could trust.

Because apparently the same dead man had put his trust in Osamu Dazai, the slacker who loved just to make everyone’s day worse, even Ann’s. No, especially Ann’s. And today was no different.

Another day to question their father’s judgment, as much as they did not really want to do that. All they did while cleaning the table with a cloth was watch from afar how Dazai was chatting up one of the waitresses again. The sight was not something they liked, at all. It has been two years and honestly they were just doubting the judgment more and more. What was it about him that made their father trust this guy above all else? And how did they even meet in the first place!? The letter didn’t mention it and whenever asking Dazai himself he would always dodge the question. They were still digging up a few secrets thanks to this guy and they couldn’t stand it nor could they stand him! But apparently he is talented enough to join a detective agency or something like that. And still manage to show up despite an ever growing bill! And all he does is flirt up a woman in a terrible way! Well, Ann’s coworker knew better how to deal with him at least. They would have slapped him across the face several times, it was just too tempting when he went too far and crossed the line.

Osamu Dazai… Ann will never be certain why it was him their father trusted above all else. There was not a lot of redeemable things about him… They only put up with him and live with him because they had to, for their father’s sake. But the two live separate lives… They will never ever be… Be… 

Ah no, their thoughts are going somewhere else again. Hah, this man… All because they saw him flirting with the other waitress which was somehow already bad on its own. All because they felt pity for her, not because they were jealous. No, not at all. They could care less about that… 

“Who he hooks up with is his decision… Whatever. I… Am not interested anyway… ”