#I read off your Bridgerton Verse!

[recitedemise]

A hall of curiosities, isn't it? a perfumed dowager says.

Most certainly, hums another in a white laced ensemble. A half-dead gentleman, and a half-dead girl.

Gale's legs, restless, long madly to bolt. 

For a whole of a year he has been a phantom, a well-rumored one, drearily isolated and viciously scarred. His chest still aches, his high-collared outfit by that pulsating wound, but evidently, humoring his sorrows made for miserable company. Go, his mother ordered. And attend that dance. He's still polite and mannered, has yet four springs worth of charm to glow the room, but in fearsome measures that he has never once felt, the need for books, for quiet, settles in thick. God. Gale lies with a grin, leaving a lord for what he says is the washroom. When he slips instead into a too-shadowed study, its the shimmer of her gown that makes him stop. "Ah. Apologies. I--" Was hiding? Fleeing? Am a most ill-mannered man to wander this home? Gale leans against the door, scouring for answers. He rightens, straightens, starlight scant in his hair. "Was feeling difficult, I suppose." Ha! "As rousing as tonight's conversation is, I was yearning for a debate with one Sir Elameth. A great mind, his. Perhaps you've met." / @highevar, liked.

[murdockparker]

Of the Same Mind

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: A mutual distaste in a certain author—should he even have the grace to be called that—leads to an unexpected meeting.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: mentions of drinking/alcohol, pregnancy, fluff, time skip

A/N: a cute lil request! made me actually read a little Byron myself to get the gist! and it wasn't that terrible I'm so sorry to disappoint

Dull. 

Everything was dull. What was supposed to be the social event of the season was shortened due to poor weather—an outdoors event of sorts, it seemed, Benedict really didn’t pay his mother much attention when she explained the whole ordeal. Thus, half of the ton was crammed into Lord Whitehill’s home instead of his luscious grounds, all due to the pouring rain. Most conversation was boring, most of the ladies were whining about the rain, the men whining about their whining wives and daughters. 

At least the drinks were good. 

“…seriously think that fodder is worth your breath?”

Benedict’s ears perked up, focusing on a conversation that was decidedly not about the current weather. A breath of fresh air. 

“I-I did not mean to insult you, miss,” a young gentleman sputtered, his face rosy red. “I only meant to indulge you in poetry of the highest regard—” 

“If that was your intention, you would have chosen from a finer list of poets. Byron?” The lady nearly laughed out loud. “Byron is the bottom of the barrel, as it were, so your intention was ill-placed.”

“Byron is a well-regarded poet—”

“By who? Chamber pots?” 

Benedict nearly spat out his drink. The action alone brought the attention of the arguing couple to him—both sets of eyes trained on the tall Bridgerton at once. “Oh,” he fake coughed, “it seems the drink went down the wrong way, please, forgive me.”

The man—who Benedict now recognized as Lord Whitehill’s son—scoffed. “Bridgerton. You are well versed in the arts, are you not?”

Benedict nodded. “I dabble.”

“Would you please explain to Miss (Y/L/N) that Byron is a novel poet,” Mr. Whitehill asked, “and that she should be flattered I recited poetry for her, regardless of the poet?”

Miss (Y/L/N). So that was the lady’s name. 

“But that would be lying, Whitehill,” Benedict gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. “And I am ever a gentleman, raised to never lie, especially to a fine lady such as Miss (Y/L/N).”

She smiled at that. 

“You do not agree?”

“Oh I certainly agree with Miss (Y/L/N),” Benedict said quickly, setting his glass down. “Byron is a mockery to the art—meaningless words and jaunty titles, why, I tried to read his latest and it put me right to sleep.”

“I fear I had the same reaction,” Miss (Y/L/N) said, turning to Benedict in earnest. “Right before I decided to throw it to the flames.”

They both laughed.

“Imbeciles, the both of you,” Mr. Whitehill said, pushing past the newly acquainted pair. “Keep insulting me like that and I’ll have my father throw the both of you out into the storm.”

“Mr. Whitehill,” Miss (Y/L/N) said softly, her eyes melting into puddles of apology. “I fear we were not insulting you, but rather your taste in poets. I also fear there is a stark difference in that, for if I were to insult you, I’d make a more fitting jab, more educated in that regard.”

The shorter gentleman stormed off, steam nearly pouring from his ears. Benedict laughed.

“I must say, Miss (Y/L/N),” Benedict leaned down. “You have quite the sharp tongue.”

“I am known to be rather well spoken,” she beamed, standing a little straighter. “Perhaps it is my taste in literature?”

“For that, I believe we are in agreement,” Benedict said, grabbing a fresh glass from the table beside him. “May I offer the lady a beverage?”

“Only if you decide to share whatever’s in that pocket of yours,” she pointed to his chest. Benedict’s ears went pink. “Do not think I did not see you pour an added flavoring into the lemonade—it seems impolite that you would neglect to share.”

“It would be impolite,” Benedict said, carefully pulling his flask out of his coat. “I am surprised you saw that, though, given the crowded room.”

“You are a tall man, Mr. Bridgerton,” she said, taking the glass from his hand. Benedict poured a healthy amount of clear liquor into her cup before adding the rest to his own. “I would have found it hard to ignore you.”

“Your first season? I presume?”

“Technically,” she said, looking up into his blue eyes. “My family, we just moved to Mayfair. My father came into some money and relocated us here this year, my brother is set to study at Eton in the fall.”

“And you?”

“I am now expected to marry a rich and eligible bachelor,” she laughed into her glass. “Which I really have no problem doing, save for the fact that gentleman is nothing like Mr. Whitehill.”

“Mr. Whitehill is rather rich,” Benedict smirked. “Would that not placate you?”

“And listen to him dribble about Byron? Perish that thought,” she said. “When I do marry, I expect my husband to be of the same mind, a similar taste in the arts.”

“You know,” Benedict nearly whispered, “that is an admirable thought. But how will you find this man?”

She looked him up and down, quickly and all at once, returning to drink from her glass.

“I suppose I will know when I find him,” she smirked.

Benedict smiled back. “Well, please let me know when you do, I feel rather invested in your prospects.”

“You will be the first to know, I assure you,” Miss (Y/L/N) said, nodding her head. “But, if I may be so bold, if you are not currently preoccupied, would you care to further our discussion on Byron? It is hard to find someone who agrees with such a… contrasting opinion of the poet.”

“Why, Miss (Y/L/N),” Benedict finished his glass, offering his arm, “I was afraid you’d never ask.”

—

The gardens on the property were lovely, so lush and full of life. She made good on her promise to keep them well maintained, only keeping the finest blooms and plants in their care. It was always the perfect place to spend time on days like today, sunny, a gentle breeze. 

They had given the governess a day off, her mother had fallen ill, it was the least the Bridgertons could do for her.

“Mother!” 

The lady looked up from her book, eyes meeting with her eldest daughter. Blue eyes, just like her father.

“Yes, darling?”

“Might I go inside to grab other books? Aunt Eloise recently sent some to Father and I want to read them.”

The lady gave her daughter a trying look. “Do you not think they may be above your comprehension level, my love? They were intended for your father, after all.”

“No need,” a looming voice bellowed. “I have them right here.” 

She didn’t need to look up to know who it belonged to. “Benedict, I thought you were spending time in the studio this afternoon.”

“And miss spending time with my darling wife and children?” Benedict grinned, the crooked way she fell in love with. “That seems foolish on my part.”

“Father!” Their eldest exclaimed, running over to the tallest Bridgerton. “You brought the books?”

“Indeed,” Benedict nodded, handing the parcel off to his daughter. “Aunt Eloise thought we may have better use of these than her and Phillip do.”

Their daughter lit up with excitement—ever the reader, she was. It took a village to keep their library stocked with appropriate books for her age, but she was quickly out-reading her entire family’s collection. “Thank you, Father!”

“Well,” Benedict said modestly, “you must write to your Aunt Eloise and thank her, I had little to do with such a gift.”

“What about me, papa?” 

Their son, only a few years younger than their daughter came bounding up past his escaping sister, clearly having been playing in the mud. “Do I have any gifts from auntie?”

(Y/N) opened her arms. “Not this time, sweetheart, but come here, let mama wipe that dirt off of your nose—” 

“No!” He exclaimed, turning from his mother. “Dirt makes me ruggable—like Uncle Colin!”

“Rugged,” Benedict corrected gently. “And, no, dirt makes you dirty. You need to stop spending so much time with Colin…”

“Once baby brother is here I will,” their son nodded, putting both hands on his hips, looking down at his sitting mother.

“Oh darling,” (Y/N) said, trying to raise to her feet. Benedict quickly offered his hands, pulling her up. “Baby will not be here for a few more months.”

“Then more time with Uncle Colin!”

Benedict and (Y/N) sighed, watching their adventurous son run back to the mud. “We must write Colin, tell him of the monster he has created.”

“Our eldest is such an easygoing flower,” Benedict said, noting how she was carefully skimming through the various books on her lap. “Our son tests our patience.”

“And how do you think this one will be?” (Y/N) asked, placing his hand on her swelling stomach. She only had two or so more months until the delivery, if she had been correct on the conception. The latest Bridgerton wedding seemed to be the culprit, stolen kisses and a romantic rendezvous to the greenhouse away from the party—it was a perfect recipe for baby number three. “Calm and collected? Devilish and adventurous?”

“I pray they are just like their mother,” Benedict rubbed her belly affectionately. “And perhaps a bit more behaved than their brother… I suppose I should also write my mother an apology.”

“Whatever for?”

“I reckon my brothers and I acted much like our son,” Benedict said sheepishly. “Acting like Bridgerton boys, I am afraid.”

“As if that is the only explanation,” she giggled, leaning into his side. “But I am sure your mother would appreciate such a gesture. Perhaps you should send her a bouquet from our garden, too?”

“An excellent idea, my love,” Benedict said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “What a brilliant mind you have.”

“Father, Mother!” Their daughter called out, waving them towards her. “Aunt Eloise sent a book by an author I have never heard of before.”

“Oh?” Benedict quirked his brow, walking with his wife over to her. “And what author may that be?”

“A Lord Byron,” she said, showing the book with a deep brown cover to her parents. Benedict scooped the tome quickly from his daughter’s grasp, holding it close to his chest.

“And you shall never read such filth,” Benedict said seriously.

“Oh Benedict,” (Y/N) laughed. “Perhaps we should allow our daughter to expand her mind—come to her own conclusions on the matter? Surely Aunt Eloise meant the gift in kind.”

“Aunt Eloise clearly meant to send it as a cruel prank,” Benedict corrected.

“What is so wrong with that author, Father?”

“A shorter conversation would be what is not wrong with this author,” Benedict said, turning to call his son. The little boy ran over to his father’s side, ever eager. “Take this and bury it, preferably far away from here.” His wife could not stop her laughter, watching their son hurriedly run over to the new rose bushes, making good work at digging a deep enough hole for the book. “You,” Benedict pointed at the girl, “are forbidden to read anything written by that lowly man.”

“Oh Benedict,” (Y/N) admonished, trying hard to stop her laughter, “forbidding her from reading seems silly—”

“Are we not of the same mind on Byron?” Benedict asked. “I rather think that is how we met, is it not, dearest wife?”

She pursed her lips, fighting a smile. “We are.”

“Besides,” Benedict stood a little straighter, “the roses could use a bit more sustenance.”

She could only roll her eyes.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Precious Truths: Part 7

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you’ve been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month’s time.

A/N: I will not be taking tags for this series!

Series Masterlist

You're breaking fast with Aunt Eliza as a footman brings in her letters. She lets out an excited yelp as she holds up the latest edition of Lady Whistledown.

You can't help but roll your eyes at the older woman. All of the Ton fall over their feet to read the anonymous author's "news". You're not overly fond of the things she's written about your friends, the Bridgertons, and a majority of the Ton.

You go back to your food, enjoying the fresh fruits that were brought in, "The strawberries are extra sweet today, Aunt Eliza. I think we shoul-"

Aunt Eliza abruptly stands, pressing her hand to her chest. Your brows furrow, "What has she written now?"

"You, dearest, but Benedict as well," you rise out of your seat with haste, rushing to the other side of the dining table and grabbing the latest Whistledown.

Your eyes quickly skim across the words and your heart drops as you read: -perhaps the second eldest never proposed to Miss L/N because he knew he could never provide for her as a second son.

Your jaw clenches as you lower the paper onto the table, "That horrid woman! Benedict is more than just a second son! He's kind, compassionate, charming, he adores his family, he is well-versed in the arts and-"

"Take pause, Y/N," your aunt urges as she places a hand on your shoulder.

You let out a deep breath and look to your aunt, "Do you think it wise if I visit him? I just want to make sure he is well."

Aunt Eliza thins her lips, "To be frank, I do not think it wise. It may jeopardize your marriage with Lord Montclair. You mustn't risk it."

You dejectedly sigh, "Yes, you're right. I suppose I will just write him a letter then." You no longer had an appetite anymore and ask your aunt if you may be excused. Seeing the state of you, she allows it and you immediately go to your room to write to Benedict.

__________________________

"A letter arrived for you, brother," Anthony announces as he steps into the study where Benedict is mindlessly staring out the window.

"Just set it on the table. I shall read it later," Benedict mumbles.

"It's from Y/N," the sound of your name immediately makes his head turn towards his brother.

He approaches Anthony and snatches the envelope out of his hand. He practically tears it open and quickly unfolds the letter:

Ben,

I just read Lady Whistledown. I hope you know that what she says can never be true. You have so much worth and not because you are a Bridgerton. You are a man that spreads kindness and warmth wherever he goes. You have so much love and passion for your family. You also possess an amazing talent in the arts that I have never seen before. Whoever you marry will be lucky to have you as their husband because I have no doubt in my mind that you will do anything and everything to make them happy.

Never mind what that horrible Whistledown has to say. She knows not of who you truly are.

Best,

Y/N

PS. I do miss your company terribly. Perhaps we may meet in our secret spot tonight?

Benedict places the letter on the desk and proceeds to start pacing along the study. Anthony immediately reads the letter and then looks up at his younger brother, "She did not mention about you being disappointed about the engagement. This is a good thing."

Benedict shakes his head, "Or a bad thing. That she does not return my affections and therefore, is ignoring them."

Anthony chooses to ignore his brother's dramatics, "I do hope you choose not to meet with her." Benedict stops his pacing and gives his brother a guilty look.

Anthony pinches the bridge of his nose, "She is engaged to Lord Montclair. If someone sees you-"

"No one will see us. I assure you, brother, when we say it is a secret spot, it truly is a secret spot." she swipes the letter from the desk and folds it back up, slipping it into his chest pocket...right over his heart.

_______________________________

Your day was exhausting. Aunt Eliza allowed you a few hours of solitude, however, she proceeded to drag you out the house to begin planning for your wedding. You spent almost two hours at the modiste picking out fabrics and styles for your trousseau. Your head was hurting and you didn't want to stare at a roll of fabric for the next month.

You also went over what food will be served at the luncheon after your wedding, the colors, etc.

You felt a bit somber as the day went on. You always imagined doing this with your mother when you were younger. It hurt your heart to think about all the things you two never had the chance to do. However, you are grateful for Aunt Eliza. She has stepped up to take up a parental role while your father wasted his days away at the men's club.

At dinner, you started to become nervous. It had been so long since you've spent time in Benedict's company. You knew you couldn't be seen together a lot around the Ton, so in secret was what you had to resort to.

Once you knew that everyone in the house was asleep, you slipped out and crept your way to a small pond that was surrounded by trees and hedges.

You and Benedict found it when you were children after you two pulled a prank on Anthony. It was only you two that knew of the place. All of the overgrown grass and trees deterred people from wanting to go through. But not you and Benedict.

Wrapped in your cloak and you dress from dinner, you weave your way through the overgrown branches and leaves, eventually leading to the pond. Benedict was already there waiting for you and you couldn't stop your heart from beating a little bit faster.

Benedict turns when he hears the leaves and branches breaking under your steps. He gives you that shy yet charming grin that makes many of the women of the Ton swoon...you included.

"Evening," he nods to you.

"Good evening and thank you for meeting me. You didn't have to."

He shrugs, "Might be the only way I get to see you now."

You wince, "I am sorry for pulling away. Surely, you understand, right? I mean," you chuckle, "All of the Ton, Whistledown included, thought we would end up together. If I continued to be in your company, it would have further hurt my chances of finding a husband. And I needed to make haste and-"

"Would it really be all that bad?"

"Would what exactly?"

Benedict shakes his head, "Nevermind."

"Ben," you place a hand on his arm, "Can we just...just pretend like I'm not engaged and be like how we were before this mess happened?"

Part of Benedict wants to say "no", that you two can never go back to how it was because he loves you and he's going to lose you in two week's time. But the other part of him, the part that always yearns for you, that thrives in your presence, the part that reminds him of when he was young and realized that he wanted to be around you forever, that part of him was louder than the former.

"Of course," he replies breathlessly and slips his hand into yours, pulling you towards the old tree where you two made makeshift swings.

You look at the ropes, now aged from time and weather, "Do you think they're safe?"

"I suppose we shall test them out," Benedict says as he goes to the swing that he designated as his, cautiously lowering himself onto the large branch that he used as the seat.

The wood creaks but doesn't snap under his weight. He pushes himself back and swings forward a few times until the branch snaps in two.

You gasp as Benedict falls to the ground with a thud, a surprised expression his face. You two stare at each other for a few seconds and then you burst into laughter.

You continue to laugh as you join him on the ground, "Are you alright?"

"A bruised ego and probably a bruised bum, but otherwise, I'm okay," he looks at you with an embarrassed look, but also a playful smile.

You giggle more, scooting closer to him and resting your head on his shoulder, "Good."

Benedict leans his head against yours, "Thank you for your letter."

"You're welcome. I wanted to see you to talk about it, but my aunt said it wouldn't be wise. Didn't want to potentially give any more reason for Lady Whistledown to write about you."

He shrugs, "It could have been worse."

You two sit in a comfortable silence, listening to the crickets chirp, the fish in the pond occasionally come to the surface and splash water around, and the sound of breathing between you two.

[yelena-bellova]

I actually think it's quite clear why they're having Francesca fall in love with Michaela right away and also why her story was the one they chose. At first, I didn't understand it that much as, from my understanding, the book centered on the themes of guilt and grief. But after reading some interviews from the show-runners, it's clear they feel the primary focus of the novel was on Francesca feeling "different" - which in retrospect is highly emphasized in the show, and is how we get to her being a lesbian (they're not going to make her bisexual, I'lll get to that). It's not how I view the story, but I'm not going to criticize someone for experiencing media differently than me.

Anyways, why does she fall in love right away? One, I'm going to be frank, main stream audiences cannot handle a truly bisexual lead. Parts of the internet would lose their shit if a woman who ends up with a woman had actual genuine feelings for a man while the other part of the internet would lose their shit that a woman who loved a man fell in love with a woman. Both sides would, ironically, agree she was just a lesbian all along so there's no point in trying to make her not one.

Secondly, I think romance in general - and particularly Bridgerton - doesn't usually focus on the idea of multiple loves that are of equal value. The genre is geared towards finding your one great love (and that's great! I love it! It's romantic and sweet, and I don't need my bodice-ripper novels to try to tackle real life romance). This is also emphasized in the show, where Violet was clearly feeling like Francesca was settling, hinting that her real love won't be with John. And in TV and film, this is 100% exasperated by shipping - audiences become extremely attached to a main couple, so killing them off will cause chaos. It just makes sense within this context to remove any romantic love from John as, from the perspective of the genre, that devalues the love between Francesca and Micheal/Michaela.

And what is the easiest way to remove romantic love between John and Francesca while keeping John a sympathetic and loving character?

All this to say, Francesca will NEVER love John, not romantically. And that makes her set up perfect for her to be a lesbian. If she never loved John, then his death can be sad, but ultimately not cause any actual conflict for the neat and tidy 8 episode arc of her season. It gives the audience the chance to say "wow, so sad she lost her husband, who she was clearly friends with, but also it's not that sad because now she'll ACTUALLY fall in love for real this time."

From a plot perspective, without any novel attachment, it's actually pretty solid and hits the tropes I would expect a queer romance to hit if it needed to exist within the Bridgerton verse. Dare I say, it's frankly even rather cliché?

So again, I disagree with a lot of this but I’m still going to share it because whoever this is didn’t come from a place of hate.

1: I’ve read the interviews with Jess Brownell about deciding to change Francesca’s story because she herself identified with the “different” aspect being a queer woman. Setting aside all sexual/gender politics, that’s a key mistake a lot of writers make. When writing for a show like this it’s good to make it personal, but not self-service. To morph an entire storyline to fit what you took from the book, even if few others did, is a bad writing choice.

2: I do agree that the world has no idea what to with bisexuality. I see more hate for bisexuals than nearly any other subsection of the LGBTQ community. I do think, however, that the Bridgerton fanbase is a bit more accepting. I’ve seen a lot of issue be taken with Benedict’s storyline this season but not because he’s bi/pan, but because of the shoddy editing and writing for his scenes.

3: “Bodice ripping novels” gave me a good laugh 😂😂

4: The change of Francesca’s potential lack of romantic feelings for John is probably my biggest issue with the whole situation. It truly feels like an unnecessary change. Even in going forward with setting up Francesca and Michaela for happily ever after, they could have saved Francesca developing feelings until after John had passed. Enough book readers would have been talking online about who Michaela was and who she becomes to Francesca that people would have known. In my eyes, there truly was no reason to eliminate that part of the story.

[idolkyokosasagawa]

👍

[👍ask the mun how they think about your muse/portrayal] ||Accepting|| @squaletta

Mmnnn well, there's not a whole lot for what I can say since I haven't written with her much yet, and I haven't read through a lot of the threads with her in it (as Bridgerton is a completely different verse so I didn't bother reading through them as I didn't want it to influence the way I see Squaletta).

I do know a few things based off discord conversations, but as they aren't written in the bio that's still a work in progress, I won't speak on them in detail. I'd consider it rude of myself to speak about details that you haven't spoken about yet in your bio, so I won't.

Squaletta is quite a bit different from canon Squalo is, much like how Tsu-chan is pretty different from Tsuna. Both quite interesting in the ways that they changed, and seem fitting for gender differences. It would appear that the history was also changed for Squaletta as I strongly doubt that Squalo had the same history in canon (ie the reason why Squaletta formed a fondness for knives. He couldn't have been put in the same situation, therefore I say they have a different past).

So, in that way, Squaletta are Squalo are more or less different characters but have some strong similarities with each other. In my mind, I view them as separate entities due to the changes, like, with changing the weaponry as well. Changing the weaponry is a pretty big change in my opinion (not saying it's wrong or bad), so it makes her feel like a very different character.

Due to that, I can't really compare Squaletta and Squalo against each other to really determine how I feel about Squaletta and the depiction of her because she's quite different from Squalo in history and I'd argue fighting style as well (a single sword style and two sword styles are very different).

All that said, though I personally view her as a new character, I do think that she's interesting. You did add many core elements to her that give her that Squalo edge, so from a quick glance you can still see that she's supposed to be Squalo, or at the very least Squalo adjacent. It's hard when you don't have any backstory to use for a canon character so you had to make due. I think the setting you made for her makes sense and can explain why she's made some of the life choices that she did.

In short, she's seemingly quite different from Squalo, but the important core traits of her personality seem to parallel Squalo's so you can still tell who she is to be. It's a delicate balance to have when you change things around for gender-swaps. I think you're doing well.

Different, in an interesting way. A lot of her speech mannerisms are still very similar, like their rough way of speaking, the blunt nature. So that aspect of her is very familiar. The biggest difference will have to come in the form of why she chose to support Xanxus, what is her relationship with Xanxus (ie does she allow him to bully her like Xanxus does in canon), and her fighting style. Those are really important parts that I think should eventually be addressed for people to get a better view of who Squaletta is and what she stands for.

[jewelledfoxes]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks @medusasfinalgirl for tagging me!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 16 atm! (1 anonymous) Which is wild to me. English was my least favourite subject in school.

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 198,609 which, again, absolutely wild.

3. What fandoms do you write for? At the minute, just stranger things. But my early fics were Game of Thrones and Bridgerton.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? I'm just going off ST fics so:

(Anything You) Want - friends to lovers mutual pining Nice (Just Ain't My Type) - silly celebrity rivals au (I Don't Have To Tell You But) You're The Only One - AYW college sequel This Be The Verse - on a theme of parenthood Stay - AYW Eddie POV

I only consider 2 of these to actually be amongst my "best" fics tho.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Yes! I definitely try my best to respond to everything as quickly as possible. I feel very honoured that there are people out there who take time out of their day to let me know they enjoyed. Makes my day every single time!!

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Oooh okay, Haunt Me, Then! (kinktober spectrophilia fic) for now, but it's very possible that She's Got A Boyfriend Anyway (classic cheating-on-Jason fic) might beat it when I get round to finishing it.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I don't know if any of my fics have particularly strong happy endings, but off the top of my head it's got to be This Be The Verse.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Defo not on hellcheer ones! Everyone's so nice here!!! <3 My very first fic got SO MUCH hate on it but that's because I wrote it when I was 17 and it WAS terrible.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Really never thought I would, but more of my fics have smut in them than not these days lol. Idk, something about hellcheer just really made me go ...these two should be going at it.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? I don't, and I'd be very surprised if I ever do tbh.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Nope!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope again!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I haven't, and I'm not really sure I can ever imagine myself co-writing.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship? I mean, I've not written 13 fics for any ship other than hellcheer so that's something. In terms of longevity, Katniss/Peeta and Finnick/Annie still have the same effect on me as they did when I first read the book at like 13 years old.

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? What a stressful question! I doubt I'll finish off Hard to Forgive (Hard to Forget) because it would be one of those proper multi-chapters (40k words ish by my estimates) and I just don't think I could do it.

16. What are your writing strengths? Hmm I'm not sure. I used to be quite good at setting a scene but I think I'm losing that a little. If I'm honest, recently I've been really proud of the sheer volume of what I've been writing and my willingness to venture out of my comfort zone.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? God, where to start. Weak dialogue, my repetitive writing style, difficulty writing endings, complete inability to do anything concisely. But I genuinely feel like I'm slowly improving bit by bit!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I did French and Spanish in school, French to a slightly higher level than Spanish, so I'd feel comfortable including either of those at a school level (like them trying out saying things like "at the weekend I like to go to the park" and "I have two brothers and no sisters" in a class) but wouldn't want to risk anything more complex!

19. First fandom you wrote for? The Hunger Games. I never posted it anywhere, but I still have my old drafts for fics that I look back on every now and again just to see how far I've come!

20. Favorite fic you've written? So hard to choose! This Be The Verse because it felt so immensely personal to write or Cherry (sapphic hellcheer) because it was a long time coming. Both are eclipsed by a soon-to-be-uploaded kinktober foot fic that I will reveal is called Heart and Sole (and yes it's as dumb and silly as the title implies)!

Okay that was fun! I'm not 100% sure on who I follow writes but I'm p sure @gingertumericlemon, @bibiche007 and @achilleanenjolras all do, so would love to hear your responses if you fancy it!

[austennerdita2533]

My first and always beloved mutual!!! I hope 2023 brings you nothing but joy. I noticed that you like Bridgerton, aka my newest fandom addiction, and would love to hear your favorite/least favorite Bridgerton characters and ships?

Thanks you so much, lovely! I am starting off 2023 all smiles and I know it's largely because of wonderful mutuals like you. 😉 💜

And yes! I am also a Bridgerton fan. I've read all the books except for Gregory's, and my favorite couples go as follows: Kathony, Polin, Michael and Francesca, Gareth and Hyacinth, Eloise and Phillip, Daphne and Simon, and Sophie and Benedict.

If we're talking show-verse, though, I have to add Eloise and Theo. I fell for them HARD in season two. They were so cute! I'm always a sucker for a good forbidden love or class differences/station trope.

What about you? How do your fave ships rank?

[justgxorge]

R U L E S (FOR MOBILE USERS)

I. literacy. as is common courtesy within the community, i am willing only to accept noble grammatical mistakes. i understand they are unavoidable (and appreciate bilingual/dyslexic writers), but i cannot interact with those that do not use punctuation, appropriate capitalisations or basic grammar in their replies. this being said, i happen to write mainly detailed paragraphs, but do not expect length to be matched by my partner, i am simply building the setting.

II. oc friendly. i accept well written, driven writers that wish to develop and ignite a whirlwind of sparks with their original characters. i happen to find most ocs extraordinary and look forward to learning about yours, and how they may mesh into the woes of the 19th century of the ton. that being said, if there is no way for them to fit into the verse, if i find a fitting crack verse or suggested alternate universe, i may consider writing with them.

III. shipping will remain consistent with the writing of netflix's bridgerton and queen charlotte. any other ships that may occur will be in crack verses or be set in alternative universes, but george's main verse will not be altered. i am a multi-ship blog, which means there may be more than one ship of the same character appearing on the blog, but does not disqualify or favor one over the other.

IV. triggering/nsfw content will appear on this blog. due to george's illness, which cannot be avoided, this may contain depressing themes/distressing themes that some may not wish to be present for. this will be tagged as such when it arises. eighteen plus themes are present, so my preference is to interact with those twenty-one and over out of personal comfort and boundaries.

V. i follow and interact with on a mutuals only basis, as i am selective. i do not unfollow for lack of activity, and will often try to remain consistent with my roleplay partners. i do not follow personal blogs and will soft-block if you are a personal and attempt to reblog my content.

VI. out of character contact: i love getting to know my roleplay partners, and i'd love for george and i to get to know you, too. i stick to tumblr im for a while before adding people on discord, however it is available if that is your communication option of choice. the ask is always open to those wishing to communicate with george, and i am always accepting of those wishing to come forward.

VII. i do not participate in tumblr drama. or social media. i do not have any other social media than tumblr and discord due to personal issues and boundaries. if there is discourse please tag this otherwise it is an immediate unfollow. i am catering to my own experience and wish to keep it a safe haven for those that witness my content as well as yours. keep it clean!

VIII. if george wanders off from a thread we have together and i happened to have not responded for a few days, please feel free to remind me in the ims of tumblr. if it is likely that this will not continue, i will be open and honest, and we can either start anew or take a break from writing until we find something that works for each other's muse. that is entirely healthy, and okay, i will not chew your head off!

IX. i will be mainly using gifs of george, as i am under construction and awaiting icons to be possible in my writing, but i do not mind which you use. it does not bother me as long as the content in the thread is fulfilling. we are both artists, are we not? our imaginations are more expansive than the universe!

X. i have been active on tumblr for the previous ten years, plus, i have seen the changes and sights gone by. i enjoy socializing with those i interact with, and hope to make friends within the fandom! as i learn more about the characters in the ton, and your interpretations, i seek value in connection. as i am writing this, i am certain you have noticed it reads like a letter might. dear reader, you are invited to her majesty the queen's palace, for a ball. and i am in strict attendance, to meet and personally welcome you, to the ton! george. just george.

[fayes-fics]

Moments: A Ladder Interlude

Moments masterpost This fic is part of Moments-verse, but it's not necessary to have read for this story

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Clean up from a messy arts lesson gets very spicy

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors dni, dirty talk, breeding/pregnancy kink, oral sex (m to f), vaginal sex - all on a ladder.

Word Count: 2.1k

Author's note: What is this?! Listen, even I don’t know. Don’t let me write at 2am people. Filthy, filthy, unrealistic athletic ladder sex, that’s what it is. Yes it’s a bloody sturdy ladder. Blame both @chaoticcalzoneranchsports and @iboopedyournose for wanting the x-rated version of the end of Moments: An Art Lesson. Thanks to @makaylan for betaing. Enjoy Benedict and his filthy mouth <3

“You missed a spot,” you point out smugly from the bottom of the tall A-frame ladder, signalling to a streak of paint on the glass ceiling right above his head.

He looks up, sighs, purses his lips and reaches to wipe it away.

“How about you spend some time up the ladder, darling?” He suggests, somewhat deadpan, looking down at you.

“Happily,” you raise a challenging eyebrow at him.

He descends with an enviably athletic gait, back at floor level quickly.

“Be my guest,” he signals sardonically.

You climb up with considerably more trepidation than him.

“Pass me the cloth,” you ask, holding your hand down expectantly.

Your eyes drop when nothing is passed to you. A knowing little smile passes your lips. He’s not paying attention to you—correction to your words. His gaze is fixed up your dress.

“Husband?” You call pointedly.

“Did you not wear stockings and underwear just to tease me?” his voice is thick.

“The stockings got covered in paint earlier,” you point out.

“And the underwear…?”

“I wasn’t wearing any,” you confess in a whisper.

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, and then a warm hand encircles your ankle, pulling gently.

“Get back down here,” he intones, a gravelly undercurrent that instantly has your insides melting.

“There is a little more paint,” you argue teasingly, your inclination to clean the last pane rapidly decreasing as the hand around your ankle trails higher up your leg.

“Later.” There is a whole universe of meaning in how he says that one word.

You edge slowly down the ladder, intentionally snagging your hem onto a rung under your hand, so your dress rides higher with every step, wanting to tease him so much.

He growls as your bare bottom is exposed at his waist height, your foot on the lowest rung.

“You little vixen.”

There’s an echo around the room as his hand spanks your left cheek. You moan and pitch against the ladder, the wood biting into your hipbone.

“Again,” you murmur.

He chuckles darkly, bounding up onto a step and pressing the length of his body against your back. You gasp his name as his hand descends to your bare bottom and spanks you again. Then it slips down to run between your legs from behind.

“I love how you are always so ready for me,” he exhales as his fingers quest against your folds, already slick with desire. You were the minute he looked up at you just so. Even after all these years, one heated expression on his face can have you flooded and wanton.

“Should I take you right here, from behind? His voice is low, and you can’t help but push back against him and rub yourself on him unashamedly. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughs richly, roughly yanking open the buttons on his trousers.

You haven’t even kissed when he surges into your body. The force of his invasion makes the ladder creak, and you cry out.

“Always, always so good… fuck,” he stutters, one hand gripping around your waist, the other the rung above your head.

“Don’t be a gentleman,” you say through gritted teeth. That’s your long-established shorthand for him to go hard and rough—often lasting a shorter amount of time but explosively satisfying.

His hands move, and suddenly the back of your dress is ripped open, buttons pinging off and skittering across the floor.

“It was already ruined with paint,” he justifies, his breath hot against your skin, surging into you, teething the back of your neck.

“You’ll have to buy me another,” you assert as he withdraws.

“As many as you want,” he promises breathily, spearing intensely, making your toes curl around the ladder step as he nudges your cervix.

“Fuckkkk,” it slips out of your mouth unbidden at how deep he can slide at this angle.

“Yes, darling, swear for me,” he preens as he tears the remaining fabric of your dress asunder until it falls from your body completely, a shiver travelling up your spine as his hand starts to pick open the laces of your stays.

“Take off your shirt,” you grumble with a hint of bossiness, feeling he should be somewhat closer to how naked you are. “I need to feel your skin on mine,” you pant as he thrusts harder.

He whips it over his head, sailing down to the floor in a gentle glide, and you keen as solid hot muscle presses against your shoulder blades. He is hunched around you, encasing you within his arms.

“You are quite demanding tonight,” he observes wryly, his thrusts turning more languid. “Is it that time, my love? You always get just a little more frantic just before your courses. When you are most fertile and ripe for me.”

“No more babies Benedict,” you warn, feeling his trousers slip down his legs, tickling your ankles as they pool there before he flicks them off and away with his feet.

“Are you sure about that?” his tone sinful. “You know how much you enjoy it, how glowing you look. And you know, my love, nothing is more alluring for me than your belly swollen with my child.”

You groan, knowing every word he says is accurate. During the three pregnancies since you married, you have both been utterly insatiable for each other.

“We agreed…” you point out weakly but tilt your hips, so his cock rubs against that spot inside that makes you forget all common sense.

“What I say in front of a crying infant is so very different to what I think buried inside your gorgeous cunt,” he sighs, stilling so you can feel every contour of his cock holding you open.

Your stays drop between the ladder rungs with an audible sound as his fingers snag your nipple.

“Let’s have another,” he whispers hot against your ear as he starts to move again, building the pace quickly, his other hand kneading the flesh of your buttock. ”Please, darling, let me fuck another perfect little Bridgerton into you.”

How can you resist such filthy beautiful words?

“They’d better have your eyes,” you growl at him, grabbing the hand on your butt and sliding it over your stomach and between your legs.

“Oh yes, they will,” he promises, his tone jubilant, fingers expertly circling your clit as he redoubles his efforts, the ladder squeaking loudly against your joint movements.

“You know they say female pleasure is so important to conception,” he rumbles, his chest vibrating against your back. “So, how many times do you want to come before I plant my seed into you? Hmm? Once isn’t enough; you may choose between two and five times,” he crows, “any more than that, and you tend to get too drowsy.”

“Kiss me,” is your enigmatic response.

Suddenly he pulls out of your body, and you almost yowl, feeling bereft.

“Turn around,” he commands, leaning away just enough to allow you room to do so.

You do as quickly as possible, clinging to the ladder and him. His mouth descends and claims yours, his tongue snaking into you possessively; your pussy clenches against nothing at the overwhelming sensation, the ladder digging into your back as his wet cock smears against your belly.

“Get back inside me,” you pant against his mouth when he emerges for air.

Suddenly his hands band under your legs, and he propels you up the ladder at a dizzying speed.

“Reach above your head and hold on tight,” he orders, and in shock, you obey, suddenly more than six feet in the air, his arms holding you high.

You scream as his tongue spears inside your channel, and he wraps your legs over his shoulders.

“You didn’t specify what part of me had to be inside you,” he gloats against your folds, then ploughs right back inside you.

Your knuckles turn white, gripping the ladder above you for dear life as the heat, the suction of his mouth on you, hurtles you towards a peak. You glance down beyond your peaked nipples to see his head buried between your legs. His hazy eyes meet yours, and they flash with challenge.

“Come for me, beautiful wife,” he begs, pulling away just an inch so you can hear him, “drench my face, darling; I want to drink you in.”

You groan at the wonderful filth that spills from his lips. He knows how much your body responds to his panting, gravelly voice—every time, he knows. He knows with absolute precision how to push you somewhere wild.

Then the suction is on your clit, and you scream and break, being so close for so long. Uncaring for anything but sensation, you grind against his face, flexing your body, flooding over his chin as he unfurls his tongue to lap it up.

“Fuck Benedict,” you pant, your voice wrecked, “twice will be enough.”

He huffs a laugh and leans his torso back a little, releasing your legs from his shoulders; his feet are now safely planted in the floor, his cock nestled against the ladder.

“Then slide right back down onto me, my love,” his tone bassy and tinged with pride.

You carry your whole weight in your arms now, your legs too shaky to be helpful, as you slowly slip down rung by rung until you feel him nudge against your swollen core.

“Keep going,” he encourages breathily.

One more move down, and he’s sliding fully into you, both groaning. His hands grip your hips, and his nose nudges yours.

“Ready?” he checks softly.

“Yes,” your breath feathered, looping your legs around his hips.

Then it’s a blur of sensation, panting, and the squeak of a protesting ladder as he fucks you hard. All you can do is cling to the steps, to him, eyes screwed shut, biting your lip, feeling his teeth on your shoulder as he plunges to your hilt on every stroke.

“Please, darling,” he pleads stutteringly, “I’m so close already; come for me,”

“Just a little more,” you grind out, chasing another high greedily.

His lips find yours again, and you kiss desperately, open-mouthed, moaning, tongues entwining, your hands carding through his hair, scratching his scalp with your nails. His fingers dig into your hips, sure to leave marks as he directs your movements, aiming for the spot inside that makes you see stars.

He hits it, and you wrench away from his kiss to scream, panting against his cheek.

“There it is,” he growls triumphantly and pushes onto tiptoe to spear deep into you.

“Yes, yes, yes”, you cry, and he starts whispering to you, knowing it will push you over, saying how much he needs you, to feel you.

Just as you break, your channel fluttering, he does too, roaring in your ear as he spasms then stills, coating you inside as you float away somewhere fuzzy and ecstatic, a liquid feeling in your bones, tingling all over.

When you return to yourself, he’s still buried in you, breathily heavy against your ear. A warm hand snakes up your breastbone and wraps around your damp throat.

“I don’t want to leave your body,” he moans.

“Then don’t yet, darling husband,” you whisper indulgently, relaxing back against the ladder and squeezing around him as he slowly softens.

He groans at that and kisses you again.

“I hope it’s another girl,” he whispers.

“You don’t know if you made me pregnant yet,” you giggle.

“I can hope, can’t I?”

“Well, there wasn’t a wedding today, so I’m not so certain,” you point out with humour.

“Did you tell Eloise and Francesca?” He laughs as he slips from inside you.

“That we snuck away from their respective wedding receptions and conceived Amelia and Thomas? No, I certainly did not,” you snort.

“We should tell them; I think they’d be entertained. Also, we still have Gregory and Hyacinth to go, more wedding babies to conceive.” His smile is crooked.

“One day, I’d like to stay through an entire Bridgerton family wedding,” you contend with a pointed look.

“We stayed through ours; that’s enough, surely?” His face dances with mirth.

“Let me down from this ladder, you menace,” you respond in kind.

“Sorry, no, Mrs Bridgerton. You said you’d clean that last pane of glass,” he shrugs with a wicked smile.

“You want me to climb up this ladder naked?” You gust, disbelieving.

“Yes, please. I’m going to watch.” His eyes glitter as he hands you the cleaning cloth.

“Unbelievable…” you mutter.

“Yes, you are,” he flatters with a wink.

“Menace,” you volley.

“Goddess,” he returns, ever the charmer.

You didn't end up conceiving another child that night; it truly is only on wedding days that it happens for you. When Hyacinth announces her engagement the following month, you start scheming if you can sneak some glue into the wedding reception, it might be the only way Benedict will let you stay through the entire thing…

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @crowleysqueenofhell @baebee35

[mermaidsirennikita]

lmao i always said i wanted to marry a rich man and ended up with another broke college student. string me up just like edwina. everyone says they want to marry someone rich. that doesn’t make edwina a bad person. stop holding her to impossible standards. are y’all forgetting about s1 anthony listing all the things wrong with various suitors of daphne’s? or when kate literally compiled a list of “suitable” (read: titled) men that were in her mind good enough for edwina? that was how it was back then, not to mention edwina likely knew that her family was running out of money (just not about the scheme with the sheffields) and knew that it would bring prosperity to her FAMILY. i’m tired of people acting like edwina was so selfish when she was doing HER duty - the one kate gave to her - too.

Listen... My mom didn't marry a rich man, but she always told me to do it if I could pull it off in a way that made me happy. I've always wanted to marry a rich guy, if I at all could. And when I say rich--I don't think we're all lining up to marry Elon Musk here. But as someone who has had to work like... 3+ jobs at once to make end's meet... Yeah. I would like to marry someone who makes it so that I can have alllll my bills paid, while being able to see a concert a few times a year, or go on a nice vacation once a year. You don't have to be fabulously wealthy to do that, but you do need to be somewhat comfortable.

But burn the witch if she doesn't wanna be financially stressed, I guess!

The thing is? And this is something the show really doesn't super address--if the family was *that* financially stressed, Kate very much could've made a go of it on the marriage market in India. There was an eight year age gap between her and Edwina, and at one point she mentions spending "the last eight years" teaching Edwina how to be a perfect lady. That means Kate started at 18.

Yes, the Sheffields could've given them *more* money, but if Kate had found a reasonably well off husband, whether that be in India or England, she could have potentially taken care of Mary and Edwina. Maybe not in the same level of wealth that she could have through the Sheffield inheritance, but to a degree. I'm not going to delve into whether Kate's hypothetical other husband would've felt obligated to help the way Anthony would have because he loved her... But honestly, this is something the show kind of fucked up by having the girls be in India for years.

At 18, Kate was ripe for marriage, and we know literally nothing about Bridgerton!verse India besides it existing and Kate loving it. Kate was the daughter of a well-respected man, a royal secretary, so it's like... Hard for me to believe that no man in India of decent standing would've wanted her. She wouldn't have even had to have spent the money on traveling to England for a season. She could've stayed there and tried to find someone--and if she wasn't able to find a kind, reasonably comfortable man who was okay with even having Mary and Edwina live in the guest bedroom lol... Fine. Sure.

But I tend to think more, based on her character, that she either thought so little of herself that she didn't think this possible... Which doesn't seem likely, or she didn't want to and reinforced this by saying to herself "It's Edwina's role to be this amazing incredible lady who marries a rich guy and gets a princess-like life". I think there was a combination of Kate's own desires, her dreams for Edwina, the lure of the Sheffield inheritance... and like, probably some plot hole shit the writers didn't think of.

Kate did give Edwina that responsibility, when she had plenty of time to try for it herself. I'm not even saying commit to setting out to find a husband for sure--like, giving it a year before throwing your hands up and saying "WELP! Nobody who can support us wants me" would make sense too. For someone so practical (in theory) this didn't super make sense to me.

[imgoingtofreakoutnow]

* = SMUT, minors don’t interact

ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE

• Miguel o'Hara

Baby, be still for me*

-> Miguel accidentally bites you, paralyzing you for a while...

Forever?

-> You ask Miguel a stupid question

BALDUR'S GATE 3

• Astarion Ancunin

Sketch me down, see me through (Part 1 - Part 2)

-> After a quiet day, you decide to sketch Astarion

• Gale Dekarios

everyone falls (like i have for you)

-> Gale has a suprise for Nayan

• Rolan

foolish, foolish love

-> During a quiet reading afternoon, you keep getting distracted. And Rolan won't pay any attention to you

hold me as the night goes by

-> Rolan finds you crying in the Ramazith's Tower and tries to comfort you

your touch sets me alight, darling

-> After the battle with Lorroakan, you tend to Rolan's bruises, and some more things come to the surface

we're drunk and in love (but i'd never tell)

-> At the Last Light Inn, you and Rolan get to know each other a bit better...

BRIDGERTON

• Anthony Bridgerton

An old friend (Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3)

-> You're back in London after years living in the countryside and tonight you're attending the Cowper's ball. Who knows who'll you meet there?

MCU

• Bucky Barnes

Confrontation

-> You and Bucky have been together for some time now, so hearing he got himself arrested (again) makes you panic, to say the least.

Nerd

-> Bucky has found out they made movies of The Hobbit and now you two are watching them... he's not very impressed.

• Scott Lang

The taste of flour and dough

-> You just got back from LA and you find your husband, Scott, with his hands in the cookie dough...

• Steven Grant

Figs and Honey

-> Meeting Steven Grant for the first time

STRANGER THINGS

• Eddie Munson

Home

-> Eddie comforts you.

• Steve Harrington

If I die young (S.H. POV // Part 1 - Part 2)

-> It's done. Vecna has won the battle and everything will be changed from now on. But the Hawkins gang takes a moment for themselves, to mourn the fallen.

Those who are left behind

-> Steve finds a connection while helping as a volunteer at Hawkins High.

SUPERNATURAL

• Dean Winchester

Dead eyes

-> Since the archangel Michael from the apocalypse world possessed Dean, you've been searching for him and you finally found where he hides. Against all the rational thoughts, you go alone just to be welcomed by two not so friendly werewolves, who bring you right in front of who you were looking for...

Happy for a moment

-> You found yourself in the middle of a hunt with the Winchester boys and now they’re leaving.

• Gadreel

Promise me

-> Castiel and Gadreel are ready to go in Heaven to find and destroy the Angel Tablet from which Metatron is taking his powers. Will you be able to say goodbye?

TVD/THE ORIGINALS

• Elijah Mikaelson

Broken

-> Elijah turned his humanity off.

Emptiness of the Heart

-> During a trip in New Orleans you meet Elijah and you feel like you've finally found the one... unfortunately his attentions put you in dangerous situations so, to keep you safe, he decides to wipe your mind from all the memories you had with him... but will that be enough to erase him from your heart?

Imagine Elijah comforting you

Shall we dance?

-> After helping Rebekah choosing a new dress, you find yourself invited to the Mikaelsons ball.

The Club

-> You follow a new friend in a club and things get an unexpected turn...

Traitor

-> Everyone leaves you. He's no exception.

Until the last note plays

-> After his funeral, Elijah comes back to you for one last dance; one last goodbye.

When you finally see me (Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - ...)

-> Working as a maid at Highclere Castle has its perks. You know every corner of the house better than your own hands, most of people you meet and work with treat you like a dirty rug, and somehow you managed to befriend one of the most eligible bachelor that wanders in and out the castle — Elijah Mikaelson. During one of his stays, a good fairy (or better, his sister) is able to infiltrate you at one of the many balls Lady Pembroke hosts. However Elijah's eyes will not be the only ones on you that night... Will this be the start of a fairytale or the first notes of a tragedy?

• Niklaus Mikaelson

Lucky charm

-> Niklaus being a cute boyfriend.

• Damon Salvatore

A Damned Kiss

-> You and Damon agreed on meeting to talk about a possible alliance between him and your friends but he's late.

• Stefan Salvatore

Nature, Death and more...

-> You visit the tomb of your grandmother after she died to help the Salvatores and Elena.

Picnic with Annie⚘blurbs

Moodboards

[ambrosiaaddiction]

Have A Little Faith

Word Count: 1,783

Summary: You are at Lady Danbury’s evening ball, which is the perfect opportunity to find a potential suitor so that you can finally settle down. But of course, it’s not as easy as it sounds. You’ve found yourself standing far away from everyone else, and just when you think tonight will be fruitless, your childhood friend, Anthony Bridgerton, changes all of the thoughts inside your head.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Tonight was the night where I needed to do a little flirting with men I have never personally met, and hopefully, I’ll impress them with my charms. That’s if they would gauge their attention onto me instead of whatever they wanted to boast about.

Mama practically talked my ear off when we were upon arriving Lady Danbury’s estate, but Richard distracted her with the topic of his new fiancée like the eldest brother he is. I still hadn’t thanked him for his act of bravery, although, that could wait for when we were in the carriage.

In my mind, I ventured on about whether or not he would be at the ball. The last time we’ve met was nearly three days ago when our families agreed to have a picnic in celebration of a newborn baby coming into the world. As much as I enjoyed engaging in social encounters, I had been more comfortable with reading alone in my room.

But alas, he persuaded me to join everyone outside where we could eat and share jokes under the warm sun together. Since then, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his shoulder brushed against mine more than enough times to call it accidental.

The man even offered to feed me a sandwich and delectable piece of scone he had already bitten into. Luckily for the two of us, our families were too immersed with doting over the aforementioned newborn baby to realize what we were doing.

Viscount Bridgerton, informally known as Anthony or Bridgerton by both family and close friends. I was not exempt from the latter formalities, although, I’ve always wondered what my life would be like if I had not crossed paths with him.

He is everything and more when Lady Whistledown wrote about him in her society’s paper last Tuesday. And to be quite frank, he needed to work for what he wanted rather than let it fall into his lap.

It seemed unfathomable the way he charmed his way through women of the ton while simultaneously rejecting them. I found it entertaining to see the crestfallen faces of girls my age, but am I to blame for their naïveté?

Anthony Bridgerton is a Rake through and through, which I can say with the utmost certainty because I am his childhood friend.

Now, don’t get me wrong. He loves his mother and siblings in place of his late father, and he is very passionate in regards of his interests. That includes women who have a pretty face and have given him an unforgettablely good time.

But this did not excuse the trail of broken hearts as well as tearful confessions behind the Viscount. Although a bit discouraging for someone who harbored feelings for the man, I always kept a smile on my face whenever we had a conversation with one another.

Anthony was extremely well-versed in politics, social skills, and the economy. There were times when I tested him on a popular topic in the papers, which as expected, he excelled.

I should not be thinking about the past at this hour. Everyone around me was dancing, drinking their glasses of champagne, and looking for someone to court. Letting out a deep sigh, I brush off a speck of invisible dust from the hem of my dress.

That’s when I see him, politely making his way through the crowd to go to where I am. A silent panic breaks my former calm demeanor, and I quickly stand taller to seem more presentable. It does not go unnoticed in the slightest, thus Anthony chuckles behind a hand then he stands before me in his handsome glory.

“Good evening, Miss Willows. How are you enjoying the ball so far?” There’s a mischievous glint behind those mesmerizing brown eyes, but onlookers would mistake it as a completely different emotion. “Hello, Lord Bridgerton. I’m much comfortable standing on the sidelines rather than dancing the night away. Thank you for asking, my lord.”

He shakes his head with amusement, and he finds my honest reply to be of a different mood compared to the other young women. “Then you shan’t refuse my offer to dance the night away, Miss Willows.” I furrow my brows in confusion and not a moment later, I’m swept onto the dance floor.

I’ve not the chance to process all that has happened, but Anthony keeps me focused on him and only him. He lowers his head to whisper words of encouragement, and I flush like a rose when he sneaks a kiss on the apple of my cheek. It’s too much for me to understand why he chose me instead of any other woman he wanted in the ball room.

“I’m relieved to see that you’re not stepping on my feet, and how beautiful your smile glows, Miss Willows.” I’m temporarily rendered speechless as to why he’s suddenly being quite the gentleman towards me. If it weren’t for the bystanders, he and I would be playfully bantering nonstop about the most random things we could think of.

“Anthony, tell me, what’s gotten into you? I appreciate the change of attitude, but it’s not the Bridgerton I know.” He’s unresponsive for a minute, then two. I can feel his grip on my waist tighten and the subtle action to bring our bodies closer. I’m not sure how I should react, but I needn’t say anything at all when he spins me around.

“My mother wants me to find a young lady to court because she’s tired of me being a bachelor for most of my life.” “Well, I can’t say I’m not surprised because she’s right.” I’m quick to give my reply, and he briefly glares down at me. “Oh, come now, Anthony. Even Lady Whistledown knows about your spectacular reputation and preferences.”

“Yes, but that’s all she knows about me, y/n. I just don’t think I’m capable of settling down with a family of my own in the near future.” The song comes to an end, and we bow before walking together for some refreshments. I say my hellos to several couples, single lords, and some of my friends when we come across them.

“That is a lie because from my knowledge, you’re the spitting image and exact replica of your father, Anthony Bridgerton.” “Y/n, I’m grateful to have met an extraordinary woman like yourself, but sometimes you get on my nerves.” That stabbed me right in the heart. Alright, perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned his late father, but he didn’t have to be so harsh.

“Look, all I’m saying is that you can marry whoever you want to, but you’d most definitely choose a woman with the same personality as yours.” I watch him take a swig from his wine glass, and then he points it at me. Narrowing my eyes as I brace myself for possible humiliation, he sets down the glass and takes my hand to drag me off to someplace other than where we were now.

I won’t lie when I say that I was nervous yet excited to find out where he was taking me. Benedict, Colin, and Eloise all looked our way then at their mother, and I could tell that they had connected the dots. It was a good thing that Lady Bridgerton found her happy place with alcohol, otherwise she would’ve stopped Anthony in his tracks.

We eventually reach our destination, which so happens to be one of countless rooms that was conveniently far away for anyone to hear. Don’t tell me... “Anthony, what are we doing over here? Shouldn’t we be with all those people, and dancing the night away?”

No answer from my captor. He seemed to be in deep thought, and I scoffed in disbelief. I most certainly did not want to spend the rest of my time on my friend, especially when he wouldn’t tell me why he brought me here. “Look, I came to this ball to find a suitor. If you won’t answer me, then—“

Before I knew it, his lips were on mine. The hand that was once squeezing my waist found its rightful place, and the other gently brushed my hair back. I fluttered my eyes closed, letting myself melt in his embrace as we kissed with a fiery passion I knew that had always been between us.

A few moments later, he pulled away then buried his face into the crook of my neck. I felt him inhale then exhale, as though he was trying to control himself from doing something I hadn’t done before. “I want you, y/n. But only if you’ll allow me to court you. We have gone through thick and thin in our childhood, and I want nothing more to continue for the rest of our lives.”

The Viscount Anthony Bridgerton was asking for my consent to be courted, and I would be delusional to reject his confession. I’ve never seen him so sincere and vulnerable like this before, and it made me giggle. He must’ve thought that I was going to refuse his offer, but I snake my arms around his neck then kiss his soft lips for reassurance.

“I’ve never thought you would ask, Anthony. But this means no more secret meetings, alright? If I hear an inkling about you being where you’ve told me you wouldn’t be at, then I’m ending things. Am I clear, Bridgerton?” He swallows thickly and nods, so I’m rather grateful that my warning has gotten through.

I bring my hands to cup his face, and I now see how much he adores me the way he relaxes against my touch. Unfortunately, we’ve been gone for far too long, but I don’t doubt that he’ll come up with a reasonable excuse to his worrying mama.

Anthony kisses the top of my head before taking my hand and leading me back the way we came. I intertwine our fingers to which he brings up to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “It might be too soon to say this, but I absolutely and undoubtedly love you, y/n Willows. I promise to cherish you for as long as I am going to live.”

It takes a bit for me to absorb the sudden declaration, but I’m not complaining whatsoever. All that mattered was that we shared equal affection for one another, and we were willing to work for a bright, lovely lifestyle ahead of us. “And I wholeheartedly love you, Anthony Bridgerton. You are mine for eternity,”

Some might say that we were too inexperienced when it came to love, but we ignored their opinions. Like my mama used to tell me when I was a child, “Have a little faith.”

[newtonsheffield]

Hello, beautiful!! It's been only a few weeks (a month I'd say) and I can officially say I've got hooked to the Bridgerton and Sons 'verse and its headcanons and it's WONDERFUL. I love it so, so much, and your writing in general! Please, continue doing it -as much as you feel comfortable- because your stories makes other people's days. 🥰 All this said (because you deserve being complimented), which headcanon would you love to write but no one has asked you yet? I bet you have got a "little" something you're excited about, yet you have not shared yet. Love from Spain (yep, this has reached Spain)! ❤️

And, another stupid fact: I'm your same age, and my birthday is in September too! #VirgoForTheWin, I guess! 😂

Ahhh Thank you to you for taking the time to read this ridiculous ‘verse and I’m so glad that I’ve kept you entertained this month, I have to say I’m becoming rather curious as to how everyone found this blog, was it purely through my shameless self promotion of Ao3 or ?? Let me know some other time! 

Spain??? My Goodness. That’s insane! I think of this as purely a local sort of blog although the fact that 2 people I know in real life have read it, is a little odd and Mortifying to me for some reason (I have refused to give anyone else the link including my older sister who eyed with a sort of Why are you like this? Look that only a truly exasperated sibling can pull off with appropriate love and concern when I told her what I’d been doing) Oh heyyyy! Birthday Buddies! September is a truly heinous time of year in Australia, because it’s strating to get ht and all of the flies and insects depressingly make themselves known again but there we have it!

Okay! I have been absolutely itching for someone to ask me about Edwina+ Kate and Anthony’s kids and absolutely no one has! I’ve been over here like “Guys! She’d be really cute with them!” And not a single one! So you didn’t really ask for them but here they are! 

When Edwina Sheffield found out she was going to be an aunt for the first time she was... beyond excited. Kate may have thought she would die single and alone but Edwina had known better and her heart had ached because she knew Kate would be a truly amazing mother. People had a tendencies to think of Kate as all sharp edges, and dry witticisms, but at her heart she was warm, and patient, and the way she wrapped her arms around you had a way of making you feel like nothing could ever be wrong again. So yes, Edwina was thrilled! And also because, yes, she may take a little bit of credit for Kate and Anthony’s relationship as a whole.

From the minute Eddie found out she was researching. Though she made the mistake of telling Kate this at brunch one day, 4 months into the pregnancy. Kate I’ve been researching and I’ve read that pregnant women really shouldn’t- Kate hadn’t even let her finish. She’d dropped her silverware loudly on the table stood up and said Eddie not you too. I’m so disappointed in you. and left the room leaving Edwina and their mother a little stunned. Anthony had barely been ruffled, he’d scoffed and said Edwina don’t worry about Kate, She apparently doesn’t believe in RESEARCH yelling the last word so his wife could hear him. Kate had called back I’l tell you where you can shove your fucking research! Edwina did not bring the matter up to Kate again though she did send Anthony articles every few days. 

When Edmund was born, Edwina loved spending time with him. She’d take him to the park, or the museum and they’d sit for hours, with her talking away, telling him about Anthony, and Kate, and the difference between a Stegosaurus and a Triceratops, strapped to her front in a tiny baby carrier. Even when people told her that Edmund was a baby and he really wouldn’t remember, she didn’t care. And when people would come up to her and comment on what a beautiful baby he was, and to Edwina’s mind there had never been a more beautiful one, she’d smile blindingly in the way she’d learned as an 18 year old startled people just a little and say Thank you! He’s my Nephew! Her heart brimming with pride. 

When Kate was pregnant with Miles Edwina was just as thrilled, She’d just gotten engaged to Matthew Bagwell and she absolutely could not be more thrilled. than when she sat at lunch with Kate and excitedly said Matthew asked me to marry him! And Kate had cooed over the ring and said how much she liked Matthew and then said dryly You should be careful though, Men lure you in being so sweet and charming, carrying their sons round in little baby carriers with a plastic dinosaur in there hair and it’s just a trap to get you pregnant again. Edwina had laughed loudly and when Miles was born a few months later she watched how gently Kate Held Edmund, who had the tiny baby in his arms and it brought a tear to her eye as she took a picture just like the one hanging in her Mother’s living room.

Thanks so much for indulging me with these!

[yetanotheremptypage]

losing their V cards to each other? school/college AU?

Alright, so, I've never written smut before. Below the cut isn't, like, super explicit stuff, but it's definitely the smuttiest I've ever written, and I apologize in advance for it.

This is in the same 'verse as Winter Formal and The Guillotine!

no escaping your love #25: free fall (a high school au) (Read 1-24 here.)

Kate would never admit it, but she had a countdown set for when Anthony left for Brown. She looked at it every day, watching the numbers dwindle, no more than binary coded sands in a digital hourglass.

They couldn’t spend quite as much time together over the summer as they’d dreamed during the school year, when just carving out an hour felt impossible and the hope of warmer weather and no school guided them to the end of the line.

But Anthony was interning with the family business, and Kate worked long hours at the Mayfair Academy Summer Camp program with lots of screaming lower schoolers. When he wasn’t at work, he was once again looking after his siblings. When she wasn’t at work, Edwina was demanding rides to the mall, the pool, the movie theater, the park—her sister had truly never been so popular, or busy.

Sunday afternoon became their date night, the precious few hours they could claim together before work and family obligations consumed them. Even just walking hand in hand with him through the grocery store while she did the family shopping felt romantic, a glimpse into a future that might await them further down the line.

Emphasis on the further, of course. There was still her college to consider, and maybe law school, and all the different roads they could find themselves down in the coming years. Together or apart.

In July, the Bridgertons adjourned to their house on the Cape for two weeks, and Mary let Kate join for a weekend. She’d always loved the coast, and it was easy to see just how much happier Anthony was in the salty air, slowly tanning under the bright sun. For once, he looked eighteen years old as he played beach volleyball with her and Daphne and Colin, constructed drip castles with Hyacinth and Gregory, splashed in the waves with Francesca and Eloise, and made out with her in the study after dark. It was hard to leave when Mary picked her up on Sunday afternoon.

When there were nine days left on her countdown—the weekend before he was due to go away—they drove back there, just the two of them. Mary had sat her down before she got in the car for a sex talk and to give her condoms and Kate had squirmed. Just because they were going to be alone in the house didn’t mean they were going to have sex.

Not that Kate hadn’t been thinking about it, though. Providence was less than two hours from Boston, but he would still be leaving. She couldn’t compete with college girls: older, smarter, prettier than her. Hell, Edwina, technically still in her ugly duckling puberty days, was prettier than Kate. Would it hurt more or less if she gave him this piece of her forever?

(Look, virginity is a construct and women should not be shamed for their sexuality. But that doesn’t mean that having sex for the first time wouldn’t be a big deal, wouldn’t make him a lifelong memory that she’ll either get to cherish forever or need to toss.)

They went to a nice dinner and played card games in the sitting room as the sun slowly set. Once the moon was out and the families were gone, they changed into their swimsuits and ran out to the ocean. Diving under waves, trying to body surf. Kate even taught him how to do an underwater handstand. Talking and laughing and being young and alive and in love.

She floated on her back, letting the waves bob under her as she stared at the constellations, Orion blinking down at her. And into the silence she finally asked, “Is this goodbye?”

Hands wrapped around her ankles and pulled, making her shriek. Suddenly her legs were wrapped around Anthony’s waist, his gaze intense in the moonlight as he stared at her.

“What on Earth gave you that idea?”

“You leave in nine days and we haven’t talked about it? We’re here alone and everyone thinks we’re going to have sex? Those feel like goodbye signals to me. For good goodbyes.” She swallowed and kept her gaze firmly on the rocks over his shoulder as she quickly added, “And it’s okay if it is, really. It’s been wonderful, truly, but—”

“Do you want this to be goodbye?” he asked sharply, and she flicked her gaze back to him.

“Of course not!”

“Neither do I! I love you! I want to spend the rest of my life with you!” He froze, eyes wide, for just a second, but just as quickly his expression relaxed, and he warmed up to his theme, “Do you know how terrifying that feeling is?”

“You think I don’t feel it too?”

Instead of responding, he kissed her, pulling her close against him. And all of Kate’s anxieties flew out the window, carried away on the Cape breeze.

Anthony pushed them up so that he stood and she continued to hold onto him, arms looped around his neck and fingers tangling into his hair as her legs tightened around his waist. She hopped down, though, and they practically ran back to the house, stumbling up the stairs to his bedroom, drunk on each other.

“You have to tell me, okay?” he whispered in between kisses, looming over her on the bed. “What you like, what you don’t, if it hurts? Okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered, breathless, arching her back as he kissed a trail down her stomach, stopping just above the band of her bathing suit bottoms. He took advantage of the movement to reach around for the string tying her bikini together.

“Can I?” She nodded, but he didn’t move. Of course he wanted verbal consent. Truly, she hated how much she’d misjudged this man in September, how much time they’d wasted. But they had now.

“Yes!” she groaned, and he didn’t need to be told twice. He undid the bow at the back and the neck quickly, and then pulled it off her with similar speed. Only then did she notice just how much his hands were shaking. Good. He was nervous, too. It made her feel less guilty about just how loudly her heart was beating out of her chest.

“Wow,” he said as her whole body was laid bare before him, illuminated by the moon and the lamp on his bedside table. He swallowed, and she could see him straining against his swim trunks. This part she’d done before, and she reached down to cup him, feeling him and taking confidence from the way his breath hitched. Without another word, she pushed the trunks down.

“Goodness,” she said—she’d never fully seen it before—and he laughed.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He looped his fingers on either side of her own bottoms and slipped those down, too. Suddenly there they both were, naked in front of each other for the first time, and Kate swallowed.

Despite the heady rush that brought them there, they went slow from then on. There was some awkward fumbling and breathless laughter when Anthony almost went in the wrong way, but afterwards, Kate goes to sleep feeling like the sexiest, most beautiful woman to ever walk the planet.

(Even though it means having to listen to Edwina’s innuendos for a whole two weeks.)

[dex-xe]

I’ve made Spotify playlists inspired by each of the ghosts and I’ve made these little written pieces to talk about them. if you wanna read them, please go ahead - if not then enjoy the music!!

This is Kitty’s playlist:

Best Friend - Rex Orange County

Kitty’s friendliness is just so sweet to me like I love that after a few episodes Alison accepts Kitty as a good friend but like before that when Kitty wants a sleepover which Alison basically denies her, I’m like O.o Kitty pls be my best friend ily!!

Piano Concerto No. 21 in C Major - Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart & Géza Anda

I wanted to include at least a little bit of music from each of the ghosts time frame so I decided on a little bit of Mozart for Kitty - who, given when she lived and the familial culture at the time, probably played an instrument with piano being entirely probable.

Wildest Dreams - Duomo

I wanted to include at least one Bridgerton song for Kitty because I mean it’s obvious how influential issues brought up in the show would be on Kitty’s life. She was alive just before Bridgerton is set (1813 - Kitty died in the late 1700s) so I think she’d appreciate the modern song with a twist, and obviously she’d love the all the dances and everything.

Walking On Sunshine - Katrina & The Waves

An easy choice. I mean, it’s literally the go to song for people who are incredibly happy and optimistic. I didn’t want to include tons of overly happy songs for Kitty because I find her overwhelming happiness to be tinged with such sadness — she’s positive to a fault and it’s so sad what she went through during her life but yeah it’s a nice song for her.

Forever Young - Alphaville

I read somewhere that Kitty is canonically a teenager - I don’t know if that’s true so if someone could enlighten me that would be really great. But yeah is Kitty the youngest ghosts, surely it’s her or Thomas right? Anyway, Kitty will be forever young and I find that a weird concept?? That’s my in depth analysis XD

Enter One - Sol Seppy

I have so so so so so so so so much love for this song I think it’s just gorgeous. Okay but like assuming Kitty grew up at Button House (or I assume Higham House at the time) then she would’ve grown up literally from a little kid in front of some of the other ghosts (Robin, Humphrey, Mary and Annie) so like they witnessed whatever trauma and/or neglect Kitty went through. Ages ago I read someone talking about the ghosts watching her grow up and then taking care of her for the first time after she died (I can’t find the post) so like this verse: “To a friend, A sister in need, Who is not alone, And they are surrounding her, And they will enfold her outstretched hand, In our love” is just so beautiful for that moment when they finally get to take her away from her family which I love and adore and uhhhhh it’s so good, it’s such a good song.

Shake It Off - Taylor Swift

Okay from me legit crying over Kitty’s life and emotional stuff to just being like yeah this is a happy song and just something to dance to!!

Magnificent (She Says) - Elbow

This song just has gorgeous vibes and given that Kitty has just gorgeous vibes as well it was impossible for me not to include it.

Good Day - The Dresden Dolls

Someone suggested The Dresden Dolls for Kitty on my previous music post and I’d never heard of them before I’m a bit in love now… like the dark cabaret style and creepy sorta vocals and piano are just <3 <3 Like damn! And yeah I think this song is Kitty-like cause like when Alison was kinda ignoring her in ALN she got really upset as if this was a regular occurrence in her life as well like her sister or maybe her parents ignoring her in favour of her sister maybe??

Optimistic - Radiohead

“And remember: as long as you try your best.” I think that line is probably the moment of Kitty’s “personality introduction” so I kinda had to include something similar.

Devil Town - Cavetown

Okay I know this song is about parental divorce but I kinda like to apply it a bit more widely to broken families and dysfunctional households which Kitty obviously experienced. I think also the line “nevermind, I’ll settle for two birthdays” shows a kind of optimism in the face of family trauma and the acceptance that bad things often have to be spun in a positive light to cope with it.

growing up is getting old - VICTORIA

Kitty angst, Kitty angst, Kitty angst!!! After the episode descriptions we got today I am really really hoping for much more of a deep dive into Kitty’s emotions. I just want to know more about her life, and I just want the other ghosts to be protective and loving of her O.O

Stacking Chairs - Middle Kids

Kitty’s urge to be around Alison and do what’s best for her is just what I love more than anything. I really love that scene she has with the Captain where he’s like “you one Alison?” And “You want what’s best for her” like Cap/Kitty solidarity is what I live for (more to come in season 3????)

Teenage Dream - Katy Perry

I feel like with Alison arriving at the house Kitty finally has the opportunity to be a young woman again?? If that makes sense. Cause she’s been around generally older and predominantly male ghosts for a long time which is why I think she’s fixated on Alison so much because it’s the first time in centuries that she’s been around someone with similar interests etc as her. So yeah, like asking for the sleepover and wanting to talk about boys and stuff gives me Teenage Dream vibes.

In One Ear - Cage The Elephant

Like I said I didn’t want Kitty’s playlist to all be soft and sweet cause I feel like that’s kinda reducing everything about her into a little soft ball of syrup so yeah this song is sick and it’s basically about not caring what others say about you but yeah I like it!!

Would You Be So Kind - dodie

I had to include something dodie cause she’s just got that soft kind vibe. I don’t love many of her songs, it’s not really my style, but this (and In The Middle) are pretty good. Also I don’t think Kitty has much of a distinction between platonic and romantic love (same Kitty) and therefore this song is pretty fitting.

Amazing Grace - Judy Collins

If I could include Kitty’s ‘Amazing Kitty’, I definitely would cause that whole scene is just really funny. But like I said, I’m trying to include some music from when they would have lived and Amazing Grace is from the 1770s which is just when Kitty would’ve been born.

Happy - Pharrell Williams

An obvious choice but I wanted to talk about this a touch. My irl friend hates Kitty so much because she say she can’t stand people who are always happy and like infectiously positive all the time and literally every time Kitty is on screen she starts complaining and I find it so bizarre and like I’ve called her out a number of times like stfu but it’s constant. Like I find Kitty’s happiness kinda melancholy cause like she has so much to be sad about like her family and sister and stuff and I think learning more about in her life will just extend quite how sad her overt happiness actually is.

We’re Going to Be Friends - The White Stripes

Ngl I had no idea this was by The White Stripes before searching it up but apparently it is. It’s about like childhood friendship and nostalgia which I think is very right for Kitty as she works to try and make Alison her best friend after not having one during her life (and therefore relying on Florence the statue).

Girls Just Want to Have Fun - Cyndi Lauper

This song just gives me major girly sleepover vibes which I think is quite fitting. I find it interesting that as soon as Alison can see the ghosts (and accepts that she can see them) the first thing Kitty asks of Alison is to have a sleepover, maybe she sees that as the true mark of friendship? Perhaps her sister was always having sleepovers with her friends and Kitty wanted to join? I want to know Kitty’s backstory more than anyones, I think she’s fascinating!!

[omgkatsudonplease]

[ficlet, bagginshield] feeling exceptional (bridgerton au)

The Great Smials Assembly is in Tuckborough, which means for Bilbo that it’s little more than a glorified family reunion. All of his various aunts and uncles push and pull at him when he arrives, wishing him good luck in his courtship with the King of Erebor. Gandalf, staying at the Great Smials on an invitation from Thain Fortinbras II, looks especially insufferable every time someone hopes to be invited to the Royal wedding. 

“He hasn’t proposed yet,” Bilbo grumbles whenever it does.

“But surely he’s on the very verge of it!” gasps Aunt Donnamira, clutching at her chest. “Gandalf says he’s never seen two creatures on Eru’s green Arda look at each other with such devotion. If he doesn’t marry you, he’s a fool!”

Well, then, we are both fools, Bilbo does not say. King Thorin is a fool for letting such a fanciful Hobbit pretend to be his, and he is a fool for squandering this opportunity not to look for his true love.

Still, something strange burns at him, deep inside. He’s felt it all this while, over all of these weeks of lies and pretences slowly becoming wishes and truths. Thorin is nothing like the brusque Dwarf-king he had first met at the Party Field Dance, nothing like the cold statue barely making conversation with him at Gandalf’s surprise dinner. Bilbo has seen through the outermost layers of him —rather literally at one point, during the Brandywine River Promenade — and he has to admit, he likes what he sees.

And liking what he sees is the last thing he needs, because they had agreed to avoid just that. They had agreed not to fall in love. 

“Bilbo!” He is jerked out of his thoughts by a familiar cheerful voice. His cousin Primula comes barreling at him with ungraceful fervour, pulling up short just as he braces himself for impact. He finds himself curtsied to first before being squished into one of her overenthusiastic hugs. Clearly the etiquette lessons were not taking root with her at all. “Bilbo, Bilbo, you’re here! And I’m here! I had to go to Fornost earlier in the month so I missed the Promenade but I’m here! And I got permission to attend this ball! And Mama is going to lower my hems soon so I can debut in a year or two!”

“Prim! Calm down!” exclaims Bilbo. The young Hobbit-lass bounces in reply, the ribbons in her hair shining with each toss of her thick, dark curls. “What was that about a trip to Fornost?” 

“Mama and Papa took us to Fornost for the spas,” says Primula happily, holding him out at arm’s length to examine him more closely. “Now I’ve missed all the excitement. I heard you’re going to be a Dwarf Consort!”

“I’m not going to be a Dwarf Consort,” scoffs Bilbo, before quickly catching himself and tacking on a hasty, “yet. He hasn’t asked me to marry him.”

“Oh, but I hope he does,” gushes Primula. “It would be so romantic!”

“You’re taking cues from Auntie Donnamira, I see,” says Bilbo, spinning her around in circles. “Are you sure you can behave yourself tonight?”

“It’s just dancing,” scoffs Primula. “I promise not to tread on Cousin Sigismond’s feet again. I promise.”

Bilbo snorts. “All right, Prim. And what’s this about your mother letting you debut soon? Aren’t you still in your tweens?”

“Yeah, but all of my sisters are gone and married,” replies Primula, pouting. “And if I enter society, I get to go to all the parties with you! It’s been no fun being cooped up in Brandy Hall being told to go to bed just before the party guests arrive, you know.”

Bilbo remembers a ball at Brandy Hall during one of his earlier seasons, catching Primula in her nightgown by the doorway into the ballroom. He’d taken her out into the gardens and told her stories until she got drowsy. She’s grown up faster than his beansprouts since then, her childhood roundness briefly interrupted by tweenhood gangliness. And now here she is in a lengthened evening-gown, her eyes bright and ribbons woven into her cloud of dark hair. 

Bilbo feels immeasurably old beside her. With any luck, she’ll be declared the rose of the season the year she is presented to the Queen of Arnor, and, just like her sisters, she’ll be swept off her feet by some strapping Hobbit-lad and sent off to her happily ever after. 

And Bilbo will remain here, forever picky, forever searching. Possibly even lamenting the events of this year, and what could have been.

The refreshments are laid out, the band is arrayed to the side, and the first couples begin to form a line for the first dance of the night. Bilbo looks at Primula fiddling excitedly with her dance card, and gestures to it with a grin.

“Do you mind so terribly if your favourite cousin had your first dance?” he asks.

“Bold of you to assume you’re my favourite cousin,” replies Primula, but she’s smiling nonetheless, extending her wrist out to him. He signs for the first dance, before taking her out to join the other dancers lining up on the floor. 

The first dance is a reel in which the leading couple weaves their way through groups of three couples at a time. This means that Bilbo and Primula have a great deal of time standing still, waiting for their turn, and so Primula breaks the silence again with a devious grin. 

“I heard Mr Gladden has finally left town,” she says. “Something about his grandmother’s failing health. He’s gone back to the Greenwood.”

Bilbo exhales. “Good for him,” he says. “I feel terrible for saying that, but I don’t think I will miss him one bit.”

“I’ve never met him, but lots of people said it was about time,” agrees Primula. “He must have been quite the stinker.”

“I would be the last person in Arda to judge someone for being odd,” muses Bilbo, “but besides being odd he was rude. No sense of boundaries.”

“If only other people would get the hint.” Primula tosses her head towards Miss Bracegirdle, who had just joined the line with Otho Sackville-Baggins. Bilbo scoffs.

“For someone who isn’t in society yet, you certainly know a lot about the people hounding me,” he remarks. 

“Just because I’m not in society doesn’t mean I can’t read Lord Stormcrow,” replies Primula with a sly grin. “He’s had a lot to say about you two. Because of him, there’s now a betting pool between the Master, the Thain, and the Mayor for when King Thorin will propose!”

Bilbo feels like he’s been doused in cold water. “What a bunch of nosy busybodies,” he declares, just as the lead couple gets to them and they start to link arms and circle with them. 

“Well, of all the Dwarves of Arda, I suppose a Dwarf-king isn’t a bad choice for the head of the Baggins family,” muses Primula once they meet up again and the lead couple has moved on down the line. “I never liked the Bracegirdle option, if you cared to know my thoughts on it. I mean, it is the respectable choice, but she’s clearly more interested in being Mistress of Bag End than your wife.”

Bilbo chuckles. “Whatever happened to little Prim?” he wonders. “The one who crashed the Brandybuck Ball in her nightgown and listened to my stories of butterflies and dumbledoors in the garden until she fell asleep?”

“Well, it’s because of your stories that I know you wouldn’t marry someone unless they made you perfectly and incandescently happy,” Primula points out. 

“You make me perfectly and incandescently happy, too, and I have no plans to marry you,” Bilbo replies.

“That’s because you’re ancient Cousin Bilbo,” says Primula matter-of-factly, “and all I want for ancient Cousin Bilbo is someone who will make him smile his happy smile, not his brave one.” 

Bilbo wants to chalk everything she’s saying up to simple tweenhood twitterpated nonsense, but the words fly out of his head the moment he catches a glimpse of familiar blue. The music hushes into an awed murmur, as dancers and other guests alike stop and turn to see Thorin’s arrival at the Assembly. Bilbo dimly feels Primula dropping his hands as she turns to see the Dwarf-king, her small gasp of delight echoing deep in his heart. 

The first time Bilbo had read the Lay of Leithian, he had been struck by the verses depicting the meeting of Beren Erchamion and Lúthien Tinúviel. Deep within the woods of Doriath, the fateful meeting of those two had been a dance, a chase, a cry, a capitulation. As Bilbo read, he had wondered, dimly, if one day he would ever experience a captivation so thorough as what Beren had felt when he first watched Lúthien dancing in the forest grove.

Now, as he sees Thorin enter in his dark-blue tailcoat and white cravat, with the beads of the line of Durin shining starlike in his hair, Bilbo understands. 

The reel quickly finishes after that, allowing Bilbo to turn to Primula. “I could make an introduction,” he offers.

Primula opens her mouth to accept, before catching sight of someone else in the crowd. “Oh, your cousin Drogo wants to see me,” she says, winking mischievously at him. “Some other time? Maybe when you two have come to an understanding?” 

And with that, she scampers off into the crowd, leaving Bilbo alone in confronting the Dwarf-king he’s not actually supposed to be courting. Clearing his throat and taking a deep breath, Bilbo steps forward and pushes through the crowd of girls clamouring for Thorin to sign their dance cards. 

“There you are.” Thorin’s wintry expression thaws the moment he sees Bilbo. “Have you come to rescue me?” 

“Am I your excuse not to dance?” wonders Bilbo drily as he reaches Thorin’s side, forcibly squashing down the fluttering in his stomach. “I thought the goal of this was to improve your manners, not give you an out.”

“No, it was to improve my image,” replies Thorin, “and as you can see  —” He gestures to the gaggle of Hobbit-lasses arguing with one another nearby, “it worked.”

Bilbo huffs in amusement. “Apparently it worked too well. There are wagers set up about when you’ll propose.” 

Thorin raises an eyebrow at that, but does not say anything one way or the other. “Which two dances shall we have tonight?” he asks. 

Every dance, Bilbo wants to say, but even a third dance might as well be a proposal in and of itself as far as the Shire is concerned. Instead, when the next Hobbit-lass comes up to the two of them for a dance, he merely checks her card and politely declines a spot, before turning to watch Thorin do the same. 

“The Petty-skirt,” he suggests, “and the Springle-ring.” 

Thorin’s eyes crinkle amusedly at him. “Promise you will not run from the Springle-ring?” he teases.

Bilbo chuckles. “I would never,” he replies, just as the music for the first figure of the Petty-skirt begins to play. “Come on,” he says, offering his hand to Thorin. “Let’s dance.”

And for the rest of that night, he takes no other partner. Lord Stormcrow will note upon it, of course, crowing in his next pamphlet that surely an understanding is on the horizon for the two of them. 

In the meantime, Bilbo dances the night away in Thorin’s arms, and his mind is full of nothing but nightingales and the exquisite pain of being perfectly, incandescently happy.