#Viscount Associates

[bkenber]

All-Time Favorite Trailers: 'Blow Out'

I first remember watching the trailer for Brian De Palma’s “Blow Out” years ago before a double feature at New Beverly Cinema. While I don’t remember which double feature I was seeing that evening, I do remember the trailer itself and in becoming excited about checking out this underappreciated De Palma classic. Roger Ebert gave it four out of four stars and proclaimed it to be one of those…

[ladysharmaa]

Kate mini version

Sharma!sis x Queen Charlotte's son

Summary: After the ball, everyone knows what happened between Y/n and Prince Charles. With the attention of high society members and the Queen, they face new obstacles as they fall in love.

part 1 part 2 part 3

Dearest reader,

The tone is abuzz with the latest gossip, and so it's my honor to impart to you.

Miss Y/n Sharma came to England after Kate Sharma's marriage to Viscount Bridgerton. In such a short time she managed to do something that no one else has managed to do: capture the attention of Queen Charlotte's youngest son, Prince Charles.

Dearest reader, this author finds herself compelled to share the most curious of news. It seems the two seemed to be quite close during the last dance, having danced together until Y/n walked away. But Prince Charles didn't take his eyes off the young woman for the rest of the night. Is a new romance brewing? Let's not forget that at the beginning of the season, her Majesty made her intentions clear of joining her youngest son with the princess of Austria.

In addition, Miss Y/n is here at her mother's request, living with her older sister, Kate Bridgerton, and her husband, Lord Bridgerton. Is it permanent or will she return to India? There are many mysteries yet to be unraveled.

On the other hand, the diamond of the season did not dance with any suitor, which may have made her Majesty uneasy. This author is left to wonder what shall her next move be, now that everything seems to be connected to the Bridgerton family.

Yours truly, Lady Whistledown

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"This is not good." Y/n muttered nervously, looking over Kate's shoulder to read the latest edition of Lady Whistledown. And to his greatest horror, she was the main topic. "How many people read this?"

"Too many." the older sister sighed, before placing the paper next to her and turning to Y/n who had her eyes increasingly wide. "Everything's fine. Most of the family has already suffered from Lady Whistledown's words and we support each other. And everything ended up being fine, the ton has short memory and will forget all about this by the next scandal."

"But what if they don't forget?"

"If they don't forget what?" a new voice intruded into the conversation.

Y/n let out a small scream, immediately recognizing Anthony's voice, and hurried to hide the paper behind her back. "Nothing. It's a beautiful day, I'm going to the gardens. Maybe hide there all day. Or all year."

"Y/n, no. You have to tell Anthony, he won't blame you for anything."

Bridgerton's eyebrows rose upon hearing that, turning to Y/n with a frown upon noticing her terrified expression. "What happened?"

"My apologies, Anthony. The last thing I wanted to do was associate the name Bridgerton with scandals. Lady Whistledown wrote about last night. About… About Prince Charles and I." She looked down, not wanting to see Anthony's disapproving look, and handed him the paper.

The minutes dragged on. To Y/n it felt like hours had passed. Long hours with just the silence in the room. Her heart was pounding against her chest and she tried to control the tears from reaching her eyes. Her head was running with different questions that only made her anxiety worse. Would they send her back to India so they wouldn't suffer any more from this scandal? She didn't know that dancing with someone could cause so many problems.

Just the thought of returning to her homeland, despite having loved growing up there, brought her great sadness. Her life was in England now. She adored her sister's family, having grown up close to many of them, especially Francesca and Hyacinth. And the truth is that she had enjoyed meeting Prince Charles. Y/n finally felt like she belonged somewhere.

She snapped out of these thoughts when she heard Anthony sigh. What was that? Disappointment? Anger? Sadness?

"Look at me." he said, but Y/n refused, knowing that as soon as she looked at the couple she would burst into tears. She shook her head, pursing her lips. "Y/n…"

"Please don't send me back to India."

"What?" the Viscount questioned in shock, almost not having noticed her from how quietly she spoke. He felt Kate hold his hand, looking sadly at her sister. "Y/n, look at us. We are not going to send you back to India."

"Really?" She raised her head shyly, her eyes red from holding back tears.

"Of course. You're part of the family. I haven't told you yet, but Mama sent a letter. Edwina had problems during the birth, so she's going to stay there until at least the rest of the year. You're going to stay with us. Here."

"Y/n, we would never send you away because of Lady Whistledown's news. You're a Bridgerton now." Anthony assured, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Her smile upon hearing those words, although still small, released some of the stress that Anthony and Kate were feeling.

"Hey, Anthony, I was wondering— Oh, sorry!" Hyacinth entered the room, stopping when she saw the three of them and the tense atmosphere it was in. Then he noticed the sad face and the paper his brother was holding. "Is that from Lady Whistledown? What does it say?"

"It doesn't matter what it says. What did you want to tell me, Hyacinth?"

"Oh, I was wondering if we could go horse riding. I am so bored, Gregory is training and Benedict isn't paying attention to me." she pouted, causing Y/n to giggle and rush over to Hyacinth, intertwining their arms.

"Fear no more, I shall give you attention."

"Thank you, kind lady." Hyacinth laughed. "Please, Anthony, take us horse riding."

When he offered to teach Y/n how to ride a horse, the rest of his sisters were also invited, since the men already knew how to do it. As expected, only Hyacinth accepted with great enthusiasm while Eloise preferred to read and spend her time with her new friend, Miss Cressida. For her part, Francesca was never much for outdoor sports and Daphne was obviously busy with her husband and son. Thus, Y/n and the youngest Bridgerton both formed a special friendship, and were now a feared duo in the Bridgerton house.

"What do you say?" he whispered in his wife's ear, looking at the two girls who were giving them the best puppy dog ​​eyes. "I'm afraid I can't say no to them."

"I think it's a great idea." Kate smiled.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The four then ventured into the forest. Anthony and Kate were ahead, lost in their own world while Hyacinth and Y/n followed a little behind. The younger girl curiously questioned Sharma about the night of the ball, upset that she was still too young to attend one.

"I wish I had gone yesterday. Did you dance with someone yesterday? I tried to ask Francesca the same thing, but she wouldn't leave her room."

"Unexpected things happened. Francesca is just a little discouraged. As diamond of the season, she has a lot of pressure on her. And I… Well, I danced with someone."

"Prince Charles?! I saw you both when we went for a picnic, I think it was love at first sight." Hyacinth giggled.

"Sometimes I forget how good an observer you are. Yes, I danced with him." Before her friend could get too excited, Y/n hurried to add. "And I was naive, because although I enjoyed being with him, he has an enormous responsibility. I doubt people would want him to spend his time with me."

"Please, I think you are in love."

"What? Of course not, I barely know him. We just had fun dancing, but that must be over by now. I doubt her Majesty will let him dance with me again. Lady Whistledown made sure of that."

"If you say so. I, on the other hand, do not agree. Prince Charles has shown that he is interested in you. Or he would have danced with other girls after you. But he didn't."

"Well, maybe he was tired." Y/n shrugged, while Hyacinth rolled her eyes. They continued the walk in silence, enjoying the forest landscape.

“Girls, let’s do a race!” Anthony shouted, looking over his shoulder with a smirk. Y/n chuckled, knowing he had never met a family as competitive as the Bridgertons. But she was one now too, and she loved winning.

“Very well. But make sure you don’t get too sad when I win.” Hyacinth teased, despite being the one with the least experience riding a horse.

“We’ll see.” Kate joined the teasing.

The four positioned themselves next to each other, letting the man count down. Y/n grabbed the reins tighter, and as soon as Anthony finished, she let her horse run. For a moment they were all balanced, but Hyacinth quickly fell behind. The couple competed a little ahead, trying to reach a certain narrower entrance. So, with their attention diverted from her, she took the opportunity to step over a fallen tree trunk, arriving earlier at that entrance, continuing at the same pace.

She felt free on a horse. The wind hit their face, the landscape blurred from how fast they were going. Y/n petted the animal, feeling like they could conquer the world.

When she realized that the others had already stopped, as no one had yet reached her, she also slowed down so she could wait for them to catch up. They probably had to go back to help Hyacinth control her horse.

“That was impressive.” she heard behind her.

Although she felt a second of fear, thinking that an unknown man had found her alone in the middle of the forest, she quickly associated it with the voice of the person she least wanted to see at that moment. As such, she just closed her eyes and hoped it was just her imagination. But when he cleared his throat, she knew she had to face him. Finally, she commanded the horse to turn around, finding herself face to face with Prince Charles, who was also on top of a beautiful black horse.

“Prince Charles, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” she smiled shyly.

“You as well, Miss Y/N. I didn’t know you were so talented at riding. Did Lady Bridgerton teach you?”

“She and Viscount Bridgerton. And since then I haven’t wanted anything else.” she shrugged uncomfortably, both not knowing what to say. In this way, Y/n focused on the horse that the prince was riding, being shocked by its size. “Beautiful.” She looked at Charles, noticing his look of surprise and a slight blush appearing on his cheeks. “I mean, the horse— The horse is beautiful.”

“Of course.” he looked away, clearing his throat. “It seems we both had the same idea after the paper published by Lady Whistledown. A nice walk was exactly what I needed to get away from my mother.”

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to interfere with your marriage with the Princess of Austria.”

“Her Majesty wants me to marry her. But I don't. You see, a beautiful, fierce, remarkable girl has already caught my attention. It may seem sudden, but she is constantly in my thoughts.” he looked intensely into her eyes. Out of nowhere, it seemed like it had become much hotter, her breathing coming in muffled.

“Oh… I—”

“Y/n! Where are you?” Kate's voice was heard through the forest, breaking the atmosphere that had formed between them.

“I’m here, Kate.” Y/n replied, closing her eyes in despair when she realized that she would have a lot to explain once they arrived.

She had already taken a risk with Lady Whistledown, and now they were alone in an isolated place… It's a good thing no one outside the family would see them, or the scandal would have become much more serious. A feeling of guilt coursed through her body again. She had promised Anthony that she didn't want to associate the Bridgerton name with scandals, and here she was doing exactly the opposite.

“Prince Charles, we can’t talk anymore. It’s not right.” she said before the others appeared.

“Why not? Because of Lady Whistledown? Ignore her, the ton will quickly forget about this.”

“You don’t know that!” Y/n exclaimed exasperated at how calm Charles seemed to be about this situation.

“I know that I want to be with you.”

“You are crazy!” she put her hand over her mouth when she realized that she had “insulted” a member of the royal family. “Apologies, Prince Charles. I didn’t mean that.”

“Call me Charles.”

“I take back my apologies.”

“Finally, we found you, Y/N. We had to go back because Hyacinth’s horse refused to move.” Kate appeared, followed by the others, stopping when she saw what was happening. She made a small bow, looking at them suspiciously. “Prince Charles, I didn’t expect to see you here. Especially with my sister.”

“What do you think you are doing?” Anthony wasn't as friendly as his wife, narrowing his eyes and approaching Y/n to stand slightly in front of her.

“Lord Bridgerton, I guarantee nothing happened. I was simply, like you, taking a walk when I saw Miss Y/n. We only talk about what Lady Whistledown wrote.” Charles assured, sending a comforting smile to Y/n, who was watching the two nervously.

“It was mere chance that we found each other. We can go back to the house now.”

Anthony signaled to Kate, who nodded. They had mastered the art of speaking with just their eyes, it still left Y/n quite confused when they did that. But this time, she understood perfectly. Lowering her head slightly, she followed her sister and Hyacinth home, while Anthony and Charles remained behind. Over her shoulder, she mumbled a quick apology to the boy, hoping he would understand what she meant.

When the women were out of sight, Anthony turned to the Prince , who appeared unaffected. “I hope you’re not trying to ruin my wife’s sister’s reputation. You know very well what the ton would say if they found you in this situation. And I guarantee you, you don’t want to duel me.”

“I agree. That's the last thing I desire. Miss Y/n would certainly never speak to me again. And I don't want that. Lord Bridgerton, we were just talking, and on horses for more. But, for all the respect I have for Miss Y/n and the Bridgerton family, I assure you this will never happen again.”

"It better not."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

After a tense conversation with Kate and Anthony, they believed Y/n when she said it was a coincidence to meet Prince Charles, but that she understood the gravity of being alone with a man.

So, she spent a few days locked up at home, hoping that the scandal had already been forgotten. However, this isolation couldn't last forever, so she was forced to join the Bridgerton family on a walk by the lake.

She had her arm linked with Benedict's, Eloise beside her, while they listened to Collin's travel stories. He had seen so much, experienced so many new cultures, that Y/n just wanted to know more. Eloise, in turn, seemed envious that only men could have the pleasure of traveling alone wherever they wanted, and Benedict asked about the art of each country, something that Y/n barely understood.

However, Collin ended up rushing the end of the story, seeing a group of girls walking, giggling when they saw him. Eloise groaned in disgust, while Benedict shook his head, changing direction so he wouldn't have to watch his brother flirt. Y/n also went with them, not wanting to see that scene.

But she noticed that they had been stopped by Lady Wilson, whose daughter was participating in the season along with Y/n, Francesca, and Eloise. "Good afternoon, Lady Wilson."

"Good afternoon." she said. "I noticed you didn't go to the ball yesterday. I haven't yet had a chance to talk with Lady Bridgerton to know if everything is alright."

"Thank you for your concern." Benedict said sarcastically, taking control since Anthony wasn't around. "We had other matters to attend, but I assure you that we will be present at the ball tomorrow."

"That's wonderful news." the woman said with a fake smile. "In that case you will be able to see my daughter dancing with Prince Charles, just like yesterday. They form a beautiful couple, don't you think?"

Y/n had to control herself not to roll her eyes. It was clear what Lady Wilson was trying to do, but there would be no reaction from her. Eloise and Benedict looked at her from the corner of their eyes, waiting to know if Y/n needed them to interrupt the conversation.

"I don't know. I didn't see them together nor did I have the opportunity to know about it since Lady Whistledown didn't write about them. And we all know that she writes about everything that happens, and it seems especially important if the prince is interested in someone to court. Looks like we'll have to wait and see."

"Yes, we shall wait." Lady Wilson clenched her jaw. "I'm certain that the prince loved to dance with my daughter."

"If you say so. Please excuse us, we shall return to the rest of our family." Y/n said dryly, hurrying to walk in the opposite direction with the two Bridgertons behind her.

"Jealous, dear sister?" Benedict asked with a sly smile once they were far enough away from the woman.

"No. Why would I be?" Y/n pretended not to be bothered, but in reality the thought of Charles dancing with someone else didn't sit very well with her. But what could she be expecting, she had said that they shouldn't talk anymore and he had to get married this season. "I'm just surprised that Lady Wilson is so confident in her daughter with the prince when the Queen wants him with the princess of Austria."

"Hmm." was the only response she received from Benedict. Eloise, already fed up with just hearing about the season, changed the subject and Y/n was also grateful for that. The last thing she wanted was to think about the next ball.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"What are you going to do?" Hyacinth asked as she helped Y/n and Francesca get ready for ball. The two had already put on their dresses and now all that was left was the jewelry. Kate had already come to say that they would have to leave soon, smiling calmly when she noticed the nervous state of her sister who had changed her dress about five times already.

“About what?”

“About the prince, obviously.”

“I don’t know. I am a little confused. This is all happening so quickly. And the fact that Lady Whistledown wrote about us didn't help. But the truth is that when I'm with him, I don't know, I feel different.” Y/n tried to explain, but realized she couldn't describe her feelings in words. It was something foreign to her, but not unwanted.

“I know what it is. You like him.” the Bridgerton dropped onto the bed dramatically.

“But liking may not be enough. Don't forget that the Queen has a lot of influence on these things. And I wouldn’t want to piss her off, it would only hurt all of you.”

"You are exaggerating. Francesca, what do you think of this?”

“What?” the girl snapped out of her thoughts when she heard her name. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“What are you thinking about?” Y/n sat next to her, taking her hand.

“I haven't had almost any suitors yet. And the ones I have seem incapable of having a conversation. What if I don’t find anyone?” Francesca revealed with a sigh, her voice tinged with sadness.

“Nonsense. Everyone would love to dance with you. In fact, I have a feeling you are going to meet someone today.” the Sharma said. “And for that to happen, we must leave and go to this ball. If you need to, we can stay together all night.”

“Thank you, but it won’t be necessary. I want you to have your chance with the prince.”

“After all, you were listening!” Hyacinth exclaimed, groaning as the two left the room and left her there. Now she had to wait until tomorrow to find out everything that was going to happen!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The ball was already full of people, from nervous mothers to innocent daughters who giggled when a suitor asked them to dance. Y/n and Francesca walked in together, both of them taking deep breaths and looking at each other in encouragement. They could do this.

While Francesca's nerves increased as she saw the Queen's eyes fall on her, Y/n's heart began to beat faster when she noticed Charles, who was standing next to his mother. However, he was not alone, finding himself in conversation with the princess of Austria. From what the Sharma could understand from the few moments in which she let herself focus on them, they seemed to be getting along well, sharing polite smiles.

"Maybe we shall get a refreshment first?" Y/n said, seeing that the family had already dispersed.

"A great idea." Francesca swallowed, nodding several times.

The two hurried to a corner of the room, sending a quick smile to the people passing by. Fortunately, no one engaged them in a long conversation, allowing them to mentally prepare themselves to face that night.

They stopped next to Penelope, who looked at the dancing couples with a sad look. "Are you alright, Penelope?"

"Yes, of course, Francesca." the redhead replied shyly, offering a small smile to the two girls. "You ought to take the floor."

"Ought we?" the Bridgerton chuckled humorlessly.

"Once one finds oneself on the wall, it is difficult to come off it. No matter what one does." Penelope looked down, pursing her lips.

"Better to be on the wall than to make fools of ourselves." Y/n she murmured, discreetly looking at the boy who had invaded her heart, still talking to the beautiful princess. Only this time, almost feeling her gaze on him, he glanced at her, showing what appeared to be a genuine smile. "This is so confusing."

"I agree. At least the wall doesn't ask me about what makes me tick." Francesca complained, still upset about the failed conversations from the last ball. The older girl looked at her understandingly, noticing that Francesca was more reserved. Maybe that was what made her rare, different from all the other girls.

"And why are you on the wall, Penelope? I'm sure there are lots of gentlemen here who would be more than willing to ask for your hand in a dance!"

"Oh no. Nobody wants to dance with me. Believe me." she replied with a slight blush, embarrassed that she didn't have any suitors when this wasn't her first season, unlike them.

"They must be blind, then. You are beautiful." Y/n confessed honestly, really confused that they let such an incredible person like Penelope escape. If she could, she would drag the redhead and Francesca to dance, but she knew it was against the rules.

The three fell into a silence, not uncomfortable, but as if they all had more to think about than trying to carry on a conversation. From the other side of the room, Charles watched Sharma as if in a trance, quickly leaving the conversation he was having to go to meet her.

However, he was interrupted by Charlotte who discreetly held his arm. "What are you doing? Must I remind you that you shall marry this season?"

"Why are you putting so much pressure on me with this. You have so many other children, but I'm the only one who has to suffer with this."

"Your siblings reproducing bastards for me to ignore. You are my last hope, son. I have made sure to give so many heirs to your father, and none of my children seem to be fornicating." she said. When she noticed that she was being too harsh with her youngest son, she sighed. "Bridgerton, Charles?"

"What seems to be the problem? You've already accepted many of their marriages, including naming two Bridgertons as diamonds of the season and ignoring the scandal between Lord Bridgerton and Lady Bridgerton." Charles controlled himself not to roll his eyes.

"Yes… But that was until my son was mentioned in the paper of Lady Whistledown because he was just interested in a girl. Especially when the princess of Austria traveled here just to meet you."

"And I enjoyed meeting her. But I enjoyed much more meeting Y/n Sharma." he admitted, his voice conveying the confidence he felt in those words. "She's the one I want. The one I'll follow to the end of the world if necessary. Don't make me marry someone else, mom, I want her. Just her."

"I believe the boy is in love." Lady Dandbury appeared beside them, looking at the boy with knowing eyes. Charlotte glanced at her from the corner of her eye. "The dance they shared was remarkable. The London Season is already terribly monotonous as it is. Therefore, these cases of passion make it more enjoyable. Don't you agree?"

"Indeed, Lady Danbury." Charles nodded, appreciating her help in convincing the Queen. "May I go now?"

Charlotte watched him for a few moments, noticing how he was restless, his body tilted towards Y/n. Almost as if he had no control over himself, unconsciously wanting to always be close to her. This wait was killing him.

The woman didn't respond verbally, just offered a small nod of permission, and her son was gone in the blink of an eye.

Almost running, the prince arrived next to Y/n, who continued to watch people dancing. She was now only with Penelope, as Francesca was taken by Violet to meet some suitors. Charles approached silently, placing himself in her line of sight and simply offering her a hand.

"What are you doing?" she whispered with wide eyes. Beside her, Penelope excused herself, giving the couple space. Not that they paid much attention, appearing not to have even heard her.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm asking you to dance with me."

"You don't give up, do you?" Y/n let a small smile appear, pretending to be upset by the boy's persistence. Inwardly, her heart was beating furiously fast. She didn't want to dance. She wanted to get away from there so she could be with Charles alone, the two of them talking all night.

But their moment was interrupted by Lady Wilson's daughter, who suddenly appeared and grabbed the prince's arm. "Prince Charles, you promised me a dance. Shall we?"

Y/n took a step back, trying to hide her sadness. Charles hadn't even removed her arm from his. This was a reminder that Charles was not yet hers, and with her indecision, that was becoming increasingly difficult. He had so many good options for marriage, why would he choose her? What made her special from all the others?

Trying to make sure no one saw the tears that threatened to appear, the Sharma decided it was best to leave for the rest of the night. Perhaps Anthony and Kate would believe she was feeling unwell and needed to go home.

But before he could move away completely, Charles snapped out of his shock, grabbing Y/n's hand to pull her closer while shaking the other woman's hold.

He clenched his jaw, upset at not being able to have a single moment of peace with Y/n. "My apologies, Miss." Y/n had to put her hand over her mouth to hide her amusement when Charles didn't remember the girl's name. "Right now, I would like to dance with Miss Y/n. So if you will excuse us."

"But—"

"What do you say, Miss Y/n. Shall you give me the pleasure of having this dance?" Charles asked quickly before the annoying girl spoke again. His attention was on Sharma, who was looking at him adoringly. Was this what people felt when they were in love? It felt like he couldn't breathe. In a good way.

"We shall… Charles." she laughed. Charles' mouth opened in shock, appearing to have frozen to the ground. In a playful way, she rolled her eyes, guiding him to the dance floor, which was now empty as people saw the two walk there.

Despite the nerves she felt, Y/n felt good with Charles, so she decided to ignore ton's opinions on this. The boy bowed as he offered her his hand, followed by a bow from Y/n, and immediately the music began.

"You called me Charles."

"A very good observation."

"You know, I thought Lord Bridgerton would kill me the moment I looked at you. It would be worth it." he twirled her around, loving it when he heard her little giggles. When she landed on the ground, her eyes found Kate and Anthony watching them, but instead of upset, they looked happy that Y/n was happy. "I must say that when you said we couldn't meet again, it hurt."

"My deepest apologies. How could I have said such absurd things?" Y/n said dramatically, noticing Charles' amusement.

"All is well now. As long as you promise to not run anymore. Even if Lady Whistledown or someone else writes about us. I promise I won't let anything hurt you or your family."

Y/n focused on his eyes. They were honest and had a glow of adoration about them. "What about the Princess of Austria?"

"As I also told her Majesty, I have no interest in her. My heart already belongs to you, Y/n. No one else can take your place."

The music was slowing down, indicating that it would end soon. The boy gripped Y/n's waist tighter, fearing that he would have to let go when he was enjoying savoring every moment of their closeness.

"My heart belongs to you too, Charles." she scrunched her eyebrows and Charles could feel his heart close to bursting. He wanted to marry her.

Instead, he controlled himself from saying it right away, knowing that he would have to talk to Anthony first and ask for Y/n's hand in marriage. Or he feared the Bridgerton wrath. For now, having Y/n in his arms was enough.

[strangererotica]

INTENSITY

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Mean!Dom!Anthony Bridgerton x Reader • smut smut smut • this is my first Bridgerton fic; please be gentle with me (unless you’re Anthony Bridgerton, in which case go hard as fuck on my ass…) Includes: mean Anthony, rough sex, degradation, cum play, prostitution, oral & vaginal sex, spit

The moment you saw Anthony Bridgerton enter the room, your stomach dropped. His handsome features were sharper than usual, eyes colored black with an intensity you’d never seen before. He appeared to be in a state of rage, well past the usual harshness of attitude he normally presented.

Several of the ladies you ‘worked,’ with at the gentleman’s club flocked to Lord Bridgerton, though it was immediately clear that his interest lay elsewhere. Dispersing them with a wave of his hand, he moved through the women easily. His penetrating gaze refused to soften, growing even more severe when his eyes landed on you.

Bowing politely before him, you forced a smile to mask your anxiety. “Lord Bridgerton,” you greeted. “How good to see you a-.”

He abruptly took your arm, leading you towards the stairs. “Silence. You will not speak until I allow it-do you understand?” Lord Bridgerton’s words bit low at your ear. He guided you to the second floor, clutching you at his side. He reached for the handle of the first door you came too, yanking it open only to realize the room was currently being used. He glared at both its occupants, before pulling the door shut and dragging you to the one across from it.

When this second room proved to be unoccupied, Lord Bridgerton ushered you inside. He kicked the door closed with his foot, his hands busy loosening the white cravat around his neck. “Undress,” Lord Bridgerton ordered, speaking so low and quickly that you failed to hear him. “Very well,” he snapped, aggressively discarding his vest to the floor. Your pulse was racing, your heartbeat thrumming against Lord Bridgerton’s fingers as they slipped beneath the front of your bodice. He tugged your body into his, making you gasp. In his impatience, Lord Bridgerton had failed to notice how genuinely unnerved you were by him tonight.

The previous week had been a frustrating blur for Anthony, as he was busy interrogating interviewing women for marriage. He’d felt himself completely at the mercy of what society and his family told him he must do. Although he’d never admit it, the pressure of being Viscount Bridgerton was exhausting. It was even a bit frightening, in some ways, to have so many people depending on him. Tonight, that pressure would be removed from Anthony completely. He could transfer his nerves to someone else for awhile, allowing you to carry that burden for him.

Sinking his hand over your chest, Anthony felt your heartbeat kick rapidly against his palm. He almost pitied you in that moment, realizing what a fearsome creature he must have appeared to be downstairs. Then again, Anthony reminded himself, did the feelings of a whore really matter to him anyway? He would take what he needed from you, as usual, and move on. Just as he always did. This transaction had taken place between you countless times before. The only difference being that tonight, Anthony had come to you in a particularly dark mood.

His fingers began roughly working the laces of your bodice undone. “Since you seem to have forgotten how a whore behaves,” Anthony scolded. “I shall have to instruct you. Open your mouth.” You parted your lips obediently. Anthony’s thumb hooked between them, tugging your bottom lip downward. His eyes were like black pools, void of emotion as he spat inside your mouth. He closed his hand around your chin, prompting you to swallow, then forced your lips apart with his tongue. Anthony tasted like bourbon, the harshness of his kiss blended with the smooth flavor you’d now come to associate with him alone.

He suddenly pulled back from you, hurriedly undoing his trousers. “On your knees,” Anthony ordered. He felt ready to burst at the seams, both figuratively and literally. His cock was already leaking onto his fist as he worked himself out of his trousers. Anthony tapped the head of his cock to your cheek, satisfied with the way his precum was left smeared down the side of your face. “Why do you insist on painting your face with cosmetics, (y/n)?” Lord Bridgerton asked. “When you look so much better painted in this…?” He dragged his swollen tip along your cheek and lips, pausing there to press just slightly between them. With the head of his cock nestled at the front of your mouth, you instinctively began to nurse it lightly; but Anthony removed his cock and continued his strange, degrading little ‘art project,’ by smearing your saliva and his precum all over your face with his cock.

“Hmm,” he hummed condescendingly. “Perhaps my brother isn’t the only artist in the family?” He pressed the tip of his cock between your lips again, collecting more of your spit, and spread it along your other cheek. “Such a pretty canvas,” Lord Bridgerton observed. “I’ll certainly take great pleasure in ruining it.” He released his cock, letting his shaft rest thick and weighty against your chin. You gazed up at the gorgeous, intimidating visage of Anthony Bridgerton, grateful to see that while his words remained barbed as ever, his countenance had softened considerably. Whatever stress he’d entered the gentleman’s club with that evening, he’d apparently managed to release some of it between then and now.

You decided to test your theory by playfully inquiring “In what ways do you wish to ruin me, my lord?”

Anthony’s confident smirk returned. He lifted you onto the bed and settled between your legs, shoving your dress around your waist. Pivoting his hips over yours, Anthony rubbed his erection against your thigh. A slippery trail of precum wet your leg, the veins along his cock throbbing as he lowered himself over you. “Allow me to demonstrate,” he replied, settling his teeth over your shoulder just hard enough to sting. You winced, drawing in a sharp breath. Without giving you time to recover from the shock of his biting you, Anthony plunged his cock inside you. The air left your lungs at once, your eyes fixing on Anthony’s and the debauched look of ‘victory,’ on his face.

Regardless of how many times the viscount had made use of your ‘services,’ the impact of him entering you always felt like being split in half. Anthony was well endowed, particularly in terms of girth. You’d seen longer cocks before (not that Anthony was lacking in length) but his thickness was on another level entirely. Fitting him down your throat was almost impossible, and your ass?? That would have been unthinkable, had Anthony not spent a considerable amount of time (weeks, in fact) teasing you open with his fingers, working your tolerance up to the point you’d be able to take his cock.

Feeling his climax approaching, Anthony quickly pulled out of you and moved up your body till he was straddling your shoulders. Sweat dripped down his forehead, his cheeks flushed, black eyes wide and craving. Anthony fucked himself over you, his damp chest rising and falling with harsh breaths as the head of his cock bloomed white. Semen pulsed thick and warm onto your lips and cheeks as Anthony frantically tugged his cock over your face. Breathy, vulnerable groans escaped his lips as his orgasm consumed him. The former, fearsome lion of a man he’d behaved as earlier was now diminished to little more than a timid lamb.

Anthony collapsed backward onto the bed beside you, tilting his head to inspect his design all over your face. Semen coated your lips in a milky gloss, streaked in globs across your cheeks, pearly drops beaded on your lashes. Anthony used part of the bedsheet to dry your eyes. He then scooped his cum from your cheeks with his forefinger and fed it to you, guiding it onto your tongue. Planting a satisfied kiss on your breast, Anthony looked up at you with a humble, happy grin. You couldn’t help but chuckle, at this complete change in his character in so short a time.

“Was I that frightening?” he asked, and you nodded: “Very.”

Anthony tutted softly in self reproach, before swiping his tongue across your breast. “Then I should like to make amends for my incorrigible behavior, by apologizing,” he grinned up at you, kissing his way down your belly. “And although most apologies are spoken-.” Anthony lingered between your thighs, his breath dusting your clit, making you shiver. “-I prefer to use my tongue in more creative ways…”

[shanastoryteller]

Merry bday! A continuation of Enola Holmes marrying the viscount of Basilweather would be really cool 😀

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

She wrinkles her nose when Tewksbury passes over her cup of tea with two sugars, unstirred, and she knows.

She puts down the cup too quickly, blood pounding in her ears, and Tewksbury frowns, reaching for her hand. "Enola?"

"Got to go," she says, pushing herself to standing, almost just leaves him sitting there, hand outstretched, but he's her husband and she loves him, so she darts over to smack a kiss on his lips before she's running for the door.

"Enola!" he calls out again, but now he sounds less worried and more exasperated, which is better, which is good. There's nothing for him to worry about.

She wants her mother, who's banned from London and is causing political unrest in Southern France currently, or Edith, who's doing something clever and illegal in Scotland. She'd take Victoria, but Mycroft will be there, and he's the last person she wants to see right now. Sherlock, while beloved, is useless, but his boy is a doctor.

She drops in at 221B Baker Street, picking the lock like always, and is relieved that Sherlock is still asleep and decides not to have any opinions on the various bones scattered about the kitchen table. She assumes there's a reasonable explanation for them.

"Oh, Enola!" John grins and shoves some femurs to the side to make space at the table. "Here, join me, would you like some oatmeal? Are you looking for your brother? I can wake him-"

"I'm pregnant," she blurts out, then bites her bottom lip.

John blinks once, then twice, then says with a gentleness that had made her like him in the first place - because Sherlock wanted to be gentle, but was quite bad at it, so someone had to teach him - "This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

Wanted seems like not the correct word, although of course it is, because she and Tewksbury had been, not trying, but not-not trying, which probably amounted to the same thing, considering how often they - well.

"I can fix it," he says, voice low and serious, "if it's something that needs to be fixed."

Enola lets out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "No. No, it doesn't need to be fixed."

She loves that he offered. She loves John, more her brother than Mycroft will ever be, sometimes even more her brother than Sherlock is. If nothing else, her brothers had picked their partners well. Victoria and John are a delight.

John is the functional one between them, explosions and skeletons notwithstanding. John is the one that coaxed her brother into a proper relationship and John is the one that knew they were like parents to all the Irregulars and John isn't normal but he grew up normal.

"Are you worried something's wrong?" he asks. "I can look you over."

"No," she says, although, "I mean, yes, that'd be nice because Tewksbury will go spare, but no, I'm not worried anything's wrong."

He leans back in his chair, looking her over, and after almost ten years of dealing with her and Sherlock and even occasionally Mycroft he can read them almost as well as they can read everyone else.

"It's alright to be scared," he says finally. "Lots of women are when they find out, even when it's wanted, even when the baby's healthy."

"I'm not scared," she says, but for the first time her words feel like a lie. "I shouldn't be scared. What do I have to be scared of?"

She wishes her mother was here.

Will her children miss her like this too?

Sometimes she misses her mother even when she's right in front of her, and if nothing else, she's her mother's daughter.

John gets to his feet, stand in front of her, and opens his arms. She looks away even as she steps forward, like if she doesn't look at him when she does it then it doesn't count as weakness.

His arms close around her. He smells like chai and antiseptic and it's only years of association that make the combination comforting. "I can't wait to be an uncle."

He'll be an uncle. Sherlock will be an uncle. Even Mycroft, and Victoria will be delighted to be an aunt, and to raise her children with Enola's. Of course there's her mother-in-law, and Tewksbury's uncle, who have been angling for her to have a child from the day they married.

There's Tewksbury, who loves her, who isn't going to die on her or leave her if either of them have anything to say about it, who isn't going to leave her to raise their children the way her mother raised her.

Alone.

She's been saying she wasn't going to do this alone from the beginning, but standing here in Sherlock's kitchen, with John holding her steady, she really believes it.

[newtonsheffield]

More matching outfits ☺️

These two are so obsessed with each other. Anthony’s tailor and Kate’s modiste are so well acquainted with one another at this point.

Every time Kate picks out a new fabric she sends over a swatch of it to the tailor, knowing that Lord Bridgerton will have an appointment within the week to be fitted himself.

It’s very endearing, actually, the lengths that Viscount Bridgerton, with his reputation for being so harsh and exacting, is willing to go to for people to be able to identify him as Lady Bridgerton’s husband.

Last season no one looked at them and thought they belonged together. And now Anthony wants to make sure that everyone associates them with each other. Even if the other gentlemen try to make fun of him for it.

“Ah, Bridgerton’s wife’s been accompanying him to the tailor again!”

This sort of thing is exactly why my club hasn’t seen me in months.

Anthony rolled his eyes, inclining his head to the gentlemen and truly continuing to look over his shoulder at Kate who was in conversation with Eloise.

“Lady Bridgerton enjoys spending time with me, it’s true. I’m a very lucky man that way.”

Fife laughed, “No reason to let her dress you though is it?”

Anthony ran his fingers along the brocade of his waistcoat, matched as close to the colloid of her wife’s dress as possible. A matching set. Lord and Lady. Husband and wife. Anthony and Kate. And for a moment he was glad that the initials she’d embroidered into it weren’t visible. It would be lost of these men, how much he longed to be recognized as hers.

“Gentlemen, when your wife’s taste is as fine as mine there’s truly no need for complaint. We look very fine together, I think.”

“You used to be fun, Bridgerton! What happened to the man who couldn’t wait to leave his wife in the country and carry on as if she never existed?”

Anthony shrugged, straightening his jacket, “He met his wife. Now, if you’ll excuse me; I’m engaged for this dance. It’d be very poor manners to miss it.”

“Is the dance with your wife?”

“Obviously.”

[ginandoldlace]

Minster Lovell Hall, Oxfordshire.

There has been a manor house at Minster Lovell since the 12th century, and it has always had a close association with the church of St Kenelm next door.

The scattered ruins we see today are all that remains of the fortified manor house that was rebuilt by William, 7th Baron Lovell in the 1430’s, a soldier who gained immense wealth during the Hundred Years War with France and became one of the wealthiest men in England.

William also had the church of St Kenelm rebuilt at the same time as his new manor house, and his magnificent tomb and alabaster effigy dressed in full coat armour sits in the South Chancel of the church.

His grandson, Francis Lovell, was a Yorkist and was created Viscount Lovell by King Richard III, who visited here in 1483, although following his defeat at Bosworth in 1485 Minster Lovell became forfeit and passed to the Crown.

In 1602 it came into the possession of Thomas Coke, Earl of Leicester. It was updated around 1702 but was later abandoned by the family around 1747 for their new property, and the hall was largely dismantled for its stone leaving the ruins we see today

Minster Lovell is a very pretty village of thatched cottages and the Hall is set in a beautiful valley location, which is popular with families in the Summer months. Access is free to the ruins which are now managed by English Heritage.

Photo one shows St Kenelm’s church taken from between the ruins of the Great Hall and Cookhouse of Minster Lovell Hall, showing their close proximity.

The other photos show various views of the ruins, with photo 9 of the medieval Dovecote and photo 10 a drone shot giving a view of the whole site layout.

[brokenheartedtheologian]

Reviews of all 8 Bridgerton Books (contains spoilers)

The TV show has more dramatic subplots and diversity, but the books have more emotional realism.

The Duke and I (Daphne's Story): In the TV series, Simon's choice to deny Daphne children (even to the point of being willing to die in a duel to avoid having kids) seems arbitrary, pointless, and dickish. In the book series, where you can get more inside the main character's heads, it all makes sense. His real fear is repeating the cycle of trauma and abusing his children the way his father abused him. Daphne convinces him he will be kind and loving to a stuttering child should he ever have one, and that's how the business gets resolved. This is the most touching scene of the book, and it's a crime they left it out of the TV series.

The Viscount Who Loved Me (Anthony's Story): Surprisingly, the TV series dealt with Anthony's dead dad trauma more meaningfully than the book did! The book mostly dwells on Anthony's illogical conviction that he will die before he grows older than his father. Whereas the TV show vividly depicts how traumatized he was by his mother's grief and how he was thrust into the role of parenting his siblings and his mother. In the TV show, Anthony's fear of love makes way more sense, as he associates true love with the insane grief and depression his mother experienced. In the book, that is just much less clear. However, I give the book points for keeping the relationship between Kate and her sister completely loving and drama-free, with no rivalry over Anthony (I'm not a big fan of altar-dumping scenes or pitting women against each other).

An Offer from a Gentleman (Benedict's Story): This was my least favorite book in the series by far, it's a retelling of Cinderella (never my favorite fairytale) with Benedict as Prince Charming. But Benedict pressures Sophie/Cinderella to become his mistress in some rather rape-y ways before they get to the happy ending. It makes Benedict utterly unlikeable. This is the only book in the series to deal with themes of class, since Sophie is a bastard who works as a housemaid due to her evil stepmother (which is why Benedict thinks she is mistress rather than wife material). The the way the book deals with class themes in profoundly unsatisfying, since they never critique the actual injustice of the class system, and in the end Sophie is only able to marry Benedict due to the big reveal of her having aristocratic blood from the wrong side of the sheets. This book is trash. I would burn it, and I just hope the TV series find a way to redeem this horrible story by replacing classist rapist Benedict with the fun bisexual polyamorous Benedict we've seen earlier in the TV series.

Romancing Mr. Bridgerton (Colin's Story): The TV series created reasons for Colin to have legitimate beef against Lady Whistledown, which are simply not part of the book series. So when Colin discovers Lady Whistledown's identity in the books, the only thing he has to navigate is the jealousy he has about her being a better writer than him. This jealousy he overcomes relatively quickly, and he makes a grand announcement as a supportive gesture which is even more romantic than his behavior in the TV series. Their character development arcs seem more natural without the extra drama the TV show inserts for the sake of suspense. I love Colin x Penelope so much, I like their story slightly more in the books, but the sexy actors of course add a lot to the story with their acting skills, so it's maybe a tie?

To Sir Phillip, With Love (Eloise's Story): I had a love-hate relationship with this book. Love: their courtship starting with letters. Hate: The letters seem to just cover trivial things so it's unclear where the attraction is coming from. Love: Eloise running off to meet him in person after exchanging letters a year (olden-times online dating). Hate: Sir Phillip making occasional misogynist comments and Eloise (bewilderingly) not caring. Love: Sir Phillip recovering from the trauma of having his wife be severely depressed for years and then commit suicide. Hate: Eloise rushing into a relationship hastily with a severely traumatized man with red flags, just because he is sexy. Love: The relationship between Eloise and Sir Phillip's children. Hate: Her brothers forcing her to marry him because she was seeing him without a chaperone. (In God's name, why? Why was this a necessary element of the book?! The romance would have felt much better without adding this gratuitous non-consensual element). A+ for second marriage and stepmother themes and D- for Eloise inexplicably losing her feminism and pride (which, to be fair, was more a characteristic of her TV self than her book self). I have no fucking idea how they will adapt it to make it more consistent with Eloise's TV character. But it's cool the TV series did an early intro of Sir Phillip Crane.

When He Was Wicked (Francesca's Story): Francesca's husband dies and four years later she falls in love with her best friend / husband's cousin. They both feel very guilty about the relationship because it feels like cheating (even though it is not cheating because original spouse is dead). Overall, this book feels like a way for us to have sex scenes that indulge our cheating fetish without the emotional strain of actually disapproving of the characters for cheating. The discussion of grief is more shallow than I would have wished. I can't help but wonder if the TV adaptation will remove the death and have the guilt/angst be around polyamorous bisexual relationships. Michaela will be better than Michael I think (Michael verbally abuses his valet, who is clearly terrified of him, every time his love life goes poorly). I personally think if a man abuses his valet, he'll abuse his wife, and find Michael by far the least plausible of the happy endings as a result. I hope the TV series having a female version of him ends up taking away some of the jerkitude.

It's In His Kiss (Hyacinth's Story): Okay, this may be my favorite of the series, though perhaps it is tied with Colin's story because Whistledown reveal. But Hyacinth is definitely my favorite of the siblings, and I love the big deal they make about her being a miniature Lady Danbury. I also adore the mother-daughter relationship stuff in here, how much Violet support's Hyacinth's independence but also encourages her to be vulnerable and take emotional risks. The "you're afraid to flirt with gentlemen you might actually like because that opens you to rejection" speech was chef's kiss!!! I also like the return of the "being free from abusive father" theme we get with the male lead. Abusive fathers was handled even better than it was in Simon/Daphne's story.

On the Way to the Wedding (Gregory's Story): It seems the author is a bit worried we might be getting bored with the regular rounds of sex, kissing, and falling in love, so she throws in some treason and gun fights to spice it up. It feels like a different genre from the other books because of the action drama elements. Still, I'm a fan of the wholesome female friendship and the (finally) satiring the "love at first sight," trope (though she plenty utilized the "love at first sight" trope in Benedict's story, wtf!) It's also fun to see Kate be a matron.

How many grandchildren does Violet Bridgerton end up with? Like a hundred?

Overall Ratings

Colin, Hyacinth: A+ for interpersonal chemistry and helping each other grow as people:

Anthony: A- but would totally be A+ if Anthony was not an unlikeable dick who did not deserve happiness

Daphne, Gregory: B+ for good-hearted Bridgertons helping love interest overcome family/abuse/neglect and personal issues.

Eloise, Francesca: C+ the sex scenes were well written but why would they settle for misogynists. I am not willing to give a pass just because this is period literature

Benedict: F because classism and not bothering with consent is really not sexy and how could you spoil wonderful TV Benedict for me.

Let's hope the TV series removed the problematic bullshit as well as adding the queer and interracial romance! The books do have more emotional realism since they've removed the need for unnecessary drama, but overall, the TV series is winning. What a surprise! I usually like books better than TV.

[sea-owl]

Idea, so an au where Penelope loses her memories while on a Lady Whistledown run and when she comes to she honestly believes that she is only Lady Whistledown. She has no memories of her life as Penelope Featherington, maybe associating that she was more of her true self as Lady Whistledown or she was happier when running her empire.

Now, a few years later, her empire is bigger than ever. Penelope, or Penny, as she has come to call herself now, can learn any secret, and if you pay enough, she'll tell you. There are some boundaries she won't cross, like if she feels if a person doesn't deserve the consequences that would happen should the secret get out, then she won't tell their secrets. She has managed to build connections not only all over England but also Scotland, Ireland, and many other countries across the continent.

Her latest assignment is actually more of a personal favor. Her dear friend Phillip has been corresponding with a young woman named Eloise Bridgerton for the last year, and he is debating to have her come visit to see if they suit for marriage.

After Penny teased him about lewd correspondences she offered to check up on this Miss Bridgerton when she traveled back to London.

"Consider it my early wedding present to you ," Penny teased. "You and the children's happiness will be all the payment I need."

Off to London she went. The Bridgertons weren't a family Penny actively searched secrets for. There wasn't a reason to. Of course, she came across stuff accidentally. Like when she learned one of the wives is an earl's illegitimate daughter, but that more came about when she was digging into the same earl's widow. Or the time she learned the Viscount's secret fear of bees. Mostly things she learned were small things like that.

Now how to approach? Well according to some of her sources the third son has just returned from traveling and is in need of a new valet. Perfect. It is not the first time she has became a servant nor the first time dressed as a man to learn the secrets she needs.

This new servant that was hired to be Colin's personal attendant though, is giving him flashbacks. He could swear that had this new servant been a woman he be a dead ringer for what Penelope would look like now. Colin also suspects his new servant also is hiding something, what he isn't quite sure.

Penny is also getting flashbacks, and she's not sure she likes them. Who is this girl that looks so much like her? And why is she getting all these memories the longer she spends time around the Bridgertons? This isn't safe. It is best to learn what she can and leave. Penny doesn't like the looks Colin Bridgerton is giving her, nor does she not like the way her heart speeds up at the sight of him.

The race is on to see who can discover who's secrets first.

[ashenlavellan]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard - Personal Thoughts from a COMPLETED Playthrough. [MAJOR SPOILERS]

[Major spoilers ahead - all I will say to those of you that are on the fence with this game? Do it. This game is so worth it and I have just finished it. Like, literally an hour ago - while it's still fresh on my mind.]

Leave this post if you don't want to be spoiled - story-wise and specifically if you want to romance Lucanis. There will be MAJOR spoilers ahead.

So, I just finished DA: The Veilguard and I was utterly blown away. I will admit that I was amongst the crowd where I would play this game, but was very hesitant to and had my reservations. I had my expectations low.

A lot of reviewers and DA enthusiasts on other platforms had me discouraged to give this game a chance and I'm glad that I spoke of this with mutuals and decided to give this game a chance.

Now, my first concern that I will address - the combat.

I was a bit concerned about this when I initially heard some people describe it as a 'hack-and-slash' and while I have no issues with that (MAJOR Devil May Cry fan here - I love that shit so much!) - it's not what I would usually associate with Dragon Age.

My experience may be different that others, but I played as a Shadow Dragon Mage - mainly followed through with the Evoker specialization, too. I mainly played with orb/mage-knife and sometimes I switched to the staves if the fight was a bit too difficult to play closer. I'm glad that this was implemented because I disliked playing as a mage in Origins and enjoyed that it was faster pace in DA2/DA:I - this felt like I could choose if I wanted to continue with the faster pace (orb/mage-knife) or a little slower, but stronger attacks at a distance (staff).

It will certainly be different if you play as a rogue/warrior, but I loved the duality as a mage and I think I'd play as one again since I grew very comfortable/adept with the controls.

Now, the concern that most people had - tactical use?

There is an ability wheel, reminiscent to the one that Mass Effect has, but it offers suggestions for what moves can be used as a combo if you select them for your companions. It's best if you try to avoid having two rogue/two warrior companions because they will have the same affects that their abilities can do. If you have a mage/warrior or mage/rogue, then it's easier to combo their moves.

To be honest, I never truly used the tactical options in the earlier games and just played as is. I know others like the earlier games because of these things, but it wasn't the biggest concern for me when it came to that... It was mainly going from three companions down to two of them, and how the combat flow would feel like.

Combat? 9.5/10

My second concern that I will address - the cameos.

Now, because of the trailers and what-not, we already figured out that Morrigan, Varric, Harding, and our Inquisitor would show up. [I'm still so happy that I had the chance to customize my Inquisitor and luckily enough, I'll just try to match her appearance as close as I can when I officially play.]

I was NOT expecting my dear friend, Dorian Pavus, to show up when he did and the fact that he had a link to the faction that I picked! I was so excited to see him once more, but...

I was even MORE excited to see my favorite, sassy pirate-lady Isabela! But, she's now one of those in charge of the Lords of Fortune!

These were the only cameos that I had not expected, but there were mentions of other characters!

Like Merrill, when talking with Isabela after a fight in the Hall of Valor! Or, a note during a loyalty quest with Taash that shows that Sten [from Origins] had joined with the Antaam. Hell, even Aveline posted up as the acting-Viscount of Kirkwall!

As well as the fact that Harding mentions members of the Inquisition, and at some point, Solas reflects on the memories he had during his time with the organization as well.

I do wish that we had more cameos, but I'm actually pleased that there were mentions of characters from earlier games that hadn't been mentioned again beforehand.

Cameos? 8/10

Now, my third and final concern - the story.

So. Much. Story.

I had been concerned about this game before its release and how it would handle the story - especially after Trespasser and when Solas first revealed himself to be Fen'Harel. Which was groundbreaking when it happened!

Some of the fandom had concerns, myself included, when we realized that only three decisions that mattered when it involved earlier games and it was all from DA: Inquisition. Nothing from Origins or DA2 - even then, however, it was not much to really tip the scales in DA: The Veilguard.

The decisions being - who did your Inquisitor romance, did they disband the Inquisition, and were they wanting to save/stop Solas?

Now after finishing the game?

The amount of thought that went into side-quests that actually had an impact on the plot/major decisions? The faction quests? The loyalty quests?? The impact from past decisions affecting the last portion of the game???

There was so much writing that went into this game, obviously, but I hadn't realized how much thought each decision you make plays a part within this story - whether small or big!

I sincerely and whole-heartedly enjoyed the writing and the companions involved in our story - I was so excited each time a loyalty or mission specific to them popped up and we delved deeper into their backgrounds, their factions, and everything else involved!

There was so much newer lore to consume, especially with Minrathous/Tevinter since we've never been this far north in Thedas, but I absolutely devoured each little piece I could get and would sit there... reading the missives and codex! However, I can understand that some may be frustrated since it doesn't delve deeper into past lore with some cases.

As one final side-note for this - even if you do all of the side-quests and content, you will have an ending just like my own... At least one person on your team will die. I did everything I could and chose, basically all of what seemed like the right decisions, and I still lost one person on my team that resulted with me sobbing like a baby with how brutal the death was in the scene...

Story? 9/10

Now, the best part of this post - the romances.

Where do I begin with Lucanis' romance?

It's like, the second I found out that there was yet again, another assassin from Antiva who was aligned with the Crows - I was immediately sold.

Before I continue - everyone? Thank his writer, Mary Kirby, from the bottom of your heart for writing such a thoughtful, protective man - whether or not your Rook romances him.

Now, continuing -

His romance is so fucking good that I have over 100 saved clips on my console of shared moments between Lucretia/Lucanis to the point where my console was like - you need to make space if you want to be a fiend for the scenes.

You bet your fucking ass I made space.

I want to completely gush over his romance and spoil things, but I'm holding all of that back because I plan on writing those scenes and then some since I AM a fanfiction writer. I'll only share one thing with all of you...

When Lucretia and Lucanis slept together, you can bet your ass that he brought out those damned wings. [Also naked/semi-naked cuddling in the scene afterwards.]

So yeah, those are my final thoughts after playing Dragon Age: The Veilguard and after finishing the game... I'm so glad that I decided to give this game a chance and I certainly feel like it was worth the price, for the amount of content there was and story-telling.

I'm also glad that I listened to some of the reviews - there were reviews from a couple of the devs from BG3 and had plenty of praise for this game! I'm glad I gave this game a chance, especially since there's so many options to choose from and replay-ability like BG3!

[candywife333]

F*** The Pyramid

PART 1

Genre : Historical

PAIRING : yandere-ish Duke Jungkook x spinster social pariah chubby y/n

Inspired loosely by the Pyramid Games (kdrama which you guys should totally check out) and a novel called ,"The Captain's Wallflower"

Warning: This fic has minimal to no proofreading and the usual blend of outlandish comedy , crude jokes with expletives, smut, and angst (because I can't do without it). This is purely fiction and not a representation of the real Jungkook's true character or that of any other member of BTS.

Currently a trilogy ( thinking of making it a series with all other characters of BTS)

Summary: Duke Jung kook remained the quintessential peer of the realm, born with a platinum spoon in his mouth from the day he arrived into the world. He grew up playing a massive role in determining the structure of the social hierarchy----who gets to be the diamond of the water, the most eligible bachelor (other than himself of course), and.....who gets to be at the bottom of the pyramid ;the very dregs of society, the spinsters and ruined women who would never have a chance at a better life.

His bevy of associates all wealthy and powerful comprised of ; Marquess Taehyung, Baron Jimin, Viscount Yoongi, Viscount Hoseok, and Duke Namjoon (close advisor of the king)--formed the Pantheon (a group of wealthy and powerful men that ruled England). He lived the ideal life, the envy of all others..... or so he had thought. Till he met, Spinster Y/N--- the illegitimate daughter of Baron Stanton. They say, if she looks like a spinster, smells like a spinster (of lavender and epsom salt) , and tastes like a spinster ( though who would ever choose to taste one?) ----then she must be one. But something about Y/N was peculiar. She definitely seemed to be a spinster in name and mannerism. But was she truly one? And what was she hiding?

Cameos: Hwasa (my queen), Chungha, and many others

Part 2

I yawned again. And again. And again. Munched on a croissant. And then proceeded to...yawn again. So boring. I would never deign to come down to London for a Season ever again. That was the only modicum of comfort I was looking forward to. Never showing up here again. The scene would never change, so what was the point? Aunt Alyssa, my mother's older sister, had insisted that I accompany Solji to her debutante season----where she would be introduced to all the other pompous, rich, uninteresting, vapid members of the ton. So she could find an uninteresting, rich husband to marry who would inevitably cheat on her with a mistress and she could pretend to be happy and have his ugly nonsensical big headed babies pushed out of her vagina and die....eventually. I know, my view of the ton and life amongst them is anything other than comforting. Yet after watching so many seasons go by, sitting on my bench (I called it my PERCH) like a cockatoo at the rotten old age of 26, my views were firmly engraved into stone. Nobody could convince me otherwise.

The entire point of the ton's existence was enforcing social hierarchy. There was no other point. True friendships are meager and rare, sanctity of marriage has no meaning ( with affairs flourishing abundantly in dark corners of Vauxhall ) , and love is nonexistent. Love, a concept I had pondered for ages as I watched naive gullible debutantes waltz around with their chosen well-to-do suitors. Suitors that proclaimed sonnets of love initially, yet inevitably lost interest in their gullible little guppy fish wives and relegated those same foolish wives to country estates never to be seen again, so they could priggishly jaunt across London with mistresses on their arms---to operas and **gasp*** decorated bedrooms. Showering attention on mistresses and maids and any other women of relatively low standing --- to suck at their grotesque, syphilitic cucumbers.

Abhorrent. Men never made sense to me, and I was convinced that love was a construct they came up with, to fool women to do their bidding. I mean, at this point, having seen what I have seen, I wonder if they even believe in the hoax called love themselves. My concern after sitting here on my perch for the last 7 seasons since I had come out, is that not once had I been asked to dance. I mean, in the grand scheme of things, I guess it made sense? Chubby , wearing spectacles, and unappealing dresses with colors and designs of years gone by, definitely would not make me the toast of the season by any chance.

Yet, even when I had been a bit more fashionable, and when father had been alive and still holding the position of Baron--I would've expected few offers of marriage by fortune hunters merely seeking my dowry. But alas... that was not be. One girl, that debuted the same year as I did, daughter of Duke Asbury, Lady Seulgi had tripped on her feet while dancing the waltz, into the arms of Baron Jimin , bowling both of them over to the cold marble floors of the ballroom rather unceremoniously. She had bemoaned to the rest of the debuting girls (including little old me) that day, languishing on a chaise as she gesticulated nervously, " I am a miserable dancer. How will I ever survive this wretched Season"?

I had quietly tried to suppress my giggles at her ridiculous tirade. What could she even mean? She was proclaimed the diamond of the first water instantaneously after being presented at court that Season 7 years ago, earning the attentions of all the members of the Pantheon and many other wealthy peers of the realm. Her life was easy. All she had to do was do nothing. Yes, I said it. Merely, NOTHING. Her fate was decided from her birth. Not like the rest of us, who were not conventionally attractive and now.......financially destitute. She had earned the good grace of everyone from birth due to her wealth and strong connections. Even if she had farted, everyone would have applauded her flatulence.

These were the women I didn't understand. The ones who had everything, yet bemoaned their lot in life----frivolous ninnies in my opinion. All the women of the higher echelons of society remained there --marrying similarly wealthy lords and preserving their lineage and wealth. You may ask---is there no social mobility? And I would say, of course bloody not---you simpering little sot. What did this look like? A fairy tale? Cinderella? Princes of good moral standing don't exist. Rich men have options. And they always avail them. Why would a rich man marry a poor woman? Lust. That would be the only real answer.

I know I sounded jaded, and I definitely was. You can only be a trampled on flowerbed for so long, till you start festering and molding with bitterness. I do not profess to be better than anyone else. At times over the years I had wished to feel beautiful, marry a good match, and have a family. But that destiny clearly was not in store for me. The complicated reasoning being that I simply was not conventionally attractive and did not inspire lust in men, and that my father's rather paltry dowry did not inspire even mere greed in men . I am socially inept and quiet by nature. These were all valid reasons.

But, the simple reason I chose to believe---is that one man merely found no utility in me. Who you may ask? Duke Jungkook I would say, without even flinching or stuttering. Others thought "society at large" did not care for them, hence they were mowed over to the corner to become rotten spinsters and outcasts. You know who society was? Duke Jungkook and the members of his Pantheon. But he was still the mastermind. Slickly manipulative, handsome, and wealthy.

He was born sitting on a golden throne, and over the years proved that he was an intellectual. Silently accruing further wealth for his estate through trade and industry---something the Ton usually looked down upon. But since it was Duke Jungkook, it was permissible. Everything was in his case. He was the exception to every rule. If his character description stopped at this, we would have all been fine. But one thing Duke Jungkook seemed to crave is control. He was hyper competitive because he lusted after control---and it's close comrade, power. Power over even the pitiful members of society, he had no business trying to control. He played God for years, and always got away with it.

How do I know he's the one running the show you ask? Well, I had time to observe. And I would say, that is my only true talent. I notice things others don't because I am invisible. A mousy little mite relegated to my pitiful perch. And I noticed everything, from his wagers which either demoted or elevated people's social standings---to the way he manipulated people with misinformation and rumors. He decided who was popular. And he decided who wasn't. And if anyone was to blame for my social standing, I would say it was him. What he had done 7 years ago had reduced me to my position now. It wasn't even anything all that dramatic. He cut me down without even a fight.

I remember it as clear as if it were yesterday, even now.....

"I am so sorry, Lord Jungkook, I wasn't watching my step, please forgive me", I had stuttered in an overly fuchsia dress akin to a little sausage as I sweat incessantly in the stuffy ballroom. Hadn't meant to spill a chalice of lemonade on his coat.

His dark eyes gleamed with amusement and something that I identified as calculation later on in my life , as he brushed it off with a wave of his hand, "Tis' of no import, Lady Y/N. Don't worry". I nodded and curtsied towards him, "Thank you for overlooking my clumsiness, Lord Jungkook. I am sorry to disturb your evening".

I had thought he had truly forgiven me. It wouldn't ruin his reputation, our encounter. It was the mistake of a newly debuted girl, more akin to a child than a woman.

I had believed in the kindness of men and humanity till then. Till he chuckled and slyly condescended in a rather loud and cloyingly sweet tone of voice, "Of course, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. At least you are not as clumsy as your mother in concealing her relations or as clumsy as your father in the way of estate management". He sauntered away lazily as he left me to deal with the fall, whistling a merry tone juxtaposing the social demise he had just inflicted upon an innocently naive girl.

Casually cruel in the name of being honest. Everyone in the ballroom had heard, their eyes and ears peeled towards any interaction involving him as they do generally, as moths do towards a flame. Only Lord Jungkook would know my dad's poor financial status even as a Baron, or about my mother's affairs which had wrung him dry emotionally. Father had resorted to ruining our meager wealth by letting the estate go to spoil. He soon after died of heartbreak at my mother's affairs a year after this horrendous moment.

He had borrowed a massive amount of money from Duke Jungkook, money he would never be able to repay. When he died, the Baron's estate and debt was inherited by cousin, leaving me and my two older sisters with nothing. Thankfully, my sisters were already married off to decent, financially stable men---though they were mere vicars. Not men with titles, but reliable nevertheless. And I was left an orphan. Looked down upon and pitied by my beautifully polished sisters, and members of society as I was unmarried and ineligible according to my looks and lack of dowry--and Duke Jungkook's honorable estimation of my worth (or lack thereof).

Duke Jungkook had ruined my life long before dad had died, and the mere sight of him would remind me of my downfall to this day.

I hated the man to his day, teeth gritting unconsciously. If I ever came across the man in need, I wouldn't hesitate to ruin him. As he had ruined me. He had opened up to the mockery and disdain of the ton. I didn't get invitations to most balls and events by then. The only few I did get invited to were due to my Aunt Alyssa, or shall I say Viscountess Alyssa. I was unmarriageable nevertheless. And I had only stuck around to earn some money by being companion and chaperone for Solji.

The plan was to leave this horrendous place of twinkling lights and crushed dreams for a family--for a baby (a dream I had cherished in my heart of hearts for quite some time). I just wanted to be left alone now. Away from Duke Jungkook's paralyzing serpentine glances that decried me of my humanity and value, and the snickers from other wealthy men at my nunnish appearance. I would go live in a 3 bedroom cottage on the countryside, the only thing that had been entailed to my name in father's will which had not been of any value to debt collectors.

It was a beautiful cottage, tucked away near the edge of a meadow in a quaint little town called Chestershire. We had family vacations in my childhood there. It just required some repair and warm touches, to become a lovely house. I had earned money as companion to Aunt Alyssa so that I could retire there without worrying about money for at least the next 2 years. I would probably start selling garments I had knitted and sewed over the years as well, once those funds ran out.

Just thinking about the cottage and the quiet life awaiting me, filled with baby chicks and piglets and a warm hearth devoid of judging glares filled me with happiness....something I had not been acquainted with for a long time, as a soft smile brightened up my face .

Couldn't wait to leave the bloody pyramid. Every dog has its day. And mine would arrive tomorrow.

Only , if I had known that destiny always knows how to kick a girl in the arse, just when she believes the worst is over.

--------------------------------------

I arrived around the evening of the next day after a garrulous carriage ride had tossed me up like a well done egg salad 30 times. The travel was terrible and yet the journey was definitely worth it. Meadows filled with various flowers and fruits stretched up and over sprawling green hills in the weak light of the setting sun , all cresting into a peak at the top of the hill---my home, my cottage. It was just as I remembered it, a homely cottage wrapped around by rose bushes and creeping stalks of bouginvillea and tulips.

The main village center was just a 3 minute walk away, but felt much further away from everyone else, with the way it was situated upon a tiny hill surrounded by an expanse of trees giving plenty of shade to the cottage. I paid the coach man and walked up the hill, sweating and dusty from the ride. As I came up to the door, I could smell the fragrance of a hearty stew wafting out of the window.

Who was in there already?I knocked on the door and was met with a swinging door that gave view to an overgrown golden retriever jostling me to the grassy ground with enthusiastic licks. A buxom lady with sparkling green eyes, and thick brown hair in two plaits exclaimed happily, "Oh, darling Y/N, tis' been a long while since I saw you. Must've been when we were kids, still digging worms from the pond and making little houses for them".

I remembered who it was. Sunny, my old maid's daughter-- who I had played with in my childhood. I patted the dog on its head as I got up, brushing grass from my skirts, enveloping her in a rambunctious hug with a wide grin, "So good to see you sweetheart!!!! Where is your mother? Is she in good health?"

"Oh, she's fine Y/N, just back at home because of her rheumy joints. She finds it hard to keep up with maintaining the cottage, so I am doing the job as of now." I smiled warmly, my insides singing with joy at the jubilant welcome back home. I truly felt at home for once.

Chestershire still remained the quiet town I remembered it to be, idyllic and pasotral. It was a wonderful change of pace--fresh air and sprawling greenery so much the eye could not contain. She grabbed me by the shoulders and hustled me into the clean , well maintained cottage. It was a beautiful interior with leviathan bay windows and plenty of comfortable seating space. I inhaled the hearty potato stew into my mouth, discussing my plans with Sunny on how to make the cottage even more homely and regarding repairs to be done.

Apparently a tiny sum of money was provided by father's will to go for maintenance annually to the cottage. That is why the place hadn't fallen into complete disrepair. It just needed a few homely touches, some floral printed curtains and doilies and warm rugs and blankets. Along with some vases that could contain flowers which shrouded the cottage window-sills.

I had my work cut out for me for the next week. But this work was more welcome than anything else I had had to deal with uptil now.

--------------------BACK IN LONDON

Lord Jungkook was pondering something of the utmost importance at the moment as his valet stared at him, eyes agog with concern. The cravat he was to wear today to Lady Esterly's ball held much salience. It had to be something somber to indicate respect towards the end of her grieving period, yet not so outrageously dark in color that it would be utterly unfashionable. She had lost her gouty ill tempered 70 year old husband few months ago to sickness. And though she was clearly happy to lose him, it would be unbecoming to demonstrate those sentiments in public.

As Jungkook entered the ballroom , something in his subconscious pricked at him. What was this uneasy feeling? He hadn't felt this way since 7 years ago when he had found out that Lady Y/N's mother was having an affair with his father, who had been Duke of Somerset at the time.

His father had been a wealthy and powerful man who had always seemed to always adore Jungkook's mother, the Duchess Somerset. Yet, he had done the exact opposite and when she had least expected it, well into their marriage of 30 years, taken up a torrid relationship with Y/N's mother. Jungkook's mother had died of grief merely a year after his father had made his affections not so secret to society. And his father soon followed her in death due to his weak constitution, succumbing to infection in the winter. Y/N's mother had been left to grieve the passing of his father and her husband that same year. She stayed with one of Y/N's married elder sisters.

He had never noticed Y/N's existence till then, till he found out whose daughter she was as she had scurried around the edges of the ballroom like a nervous rodent since her debut in Society. She wasn't much of a beauty to look at with plain features, full cheeks and a plush frame that seemed more matronly and frumpy than anything else. Her only redeeming feature were her sparkling eyes and lush hair that served to hinder the expressions on her face.

Her attire had deteriorated as her father's estate fell to ruin, thanks to Jungkook availing Jimin's crafty ways of tricking money out of the hands of Y/N's gambling father who had gotten rather desperate for money. Jimin ran a gaming hell that had made many a gentleman penniless---something he took great pride in. According to Jimin, if they lost money to the gaming hell, it was a testament to their bad luck and his good luck.

Jungkook had decided to strip her of any remaining honor, not as though her mother had left his mother with any honor either-- even in her death. It would be comeuppance for what her mother had done. She would pay for her mother's sins. And so he thoroughly ruined her reputation, ensuring she would never have a good life therafter--a life lacking family and a chance at a socially and financially advantageous match.

That's when it hit Jungkook. Where was Y/N? She wasn't in her usual spot overlooking people dancing at her bench. That had been her occupation for the past 7 years, watching people have the life that she would never have--he had made it so.

Jungkook felt extremely uneasy now that he could not spot Y/N. Where the hell was she? She always came to the bigger events that Lady Alyssa and her daughter attended. He had denied her invitation to most smaller ,more intimate events with his social acumen, but not the big ones. She had to see what she was missing out on---life. That had been his revenge plan.

But now she was nowhere to be found. He blindly searched for her, till he came across Lady Alyssa and inquired in a drawling tone , schooling his features into a calm that he didn't mirror the panic he was actually feeling, "Hello, Lady Alyssa. Fine evening it is today, is it not"? Lady Alyssa graciously smiled at him, "Yes, of course it is Lord Jungkook. How are you faring today? Oh, this is my daughter Solji in case you have not met her". Solji gracefully curtsied in her periwinkle floaty dress that showed off her waifish frame in the best light.

He continued in an unaffected tone, "And where is your companion, Lady Solji? Y/N is it"? Solji nodded as she replied, "She has decided to retire to the countryside for a while. Her father left her a countryside residence and so she has chosen to depart early before the season ends so that she can celebrate Christmas over there". Lady Alyssa sighed, stating in a resigned tone, "Anyhow she has no prospects of marriage with how she looks and conducts herself, better she is away from polluting the rest of the ton with her incessant cynicism and gloom".

Jungkook nodded at these statements seeming calm as a cucumber on the outide, whereas he was internally rattled at the happenings imparted to him. She had left? After so many years, she had decided to just leave? Evidently she had gotten tired of not being enough for London. But how could she leave without telling him?Without even an announcement of her departure?

A little voice in Jungkook's head gave him the blatant answer--not like she had any friends to inform of her departure. And not like he was her husband/brother/legal guardian, who she would have to inform of her comings and goings. After his blasting statement 7 years ago, the few friends she did have, left her --frightened of being associated with her ill repute by merely even conversing with her, or being seen in her presence.

She was a free bird, and Jungkook was hating the fact.

She had left him to play his own game. The pyramid only remained so, when there were people at the bottom. Sure, there were others he could and had manipulated to stay at the bottom, but he wanted her to remain there. Not for her to exit the game altogether.

Y/N was not allowed to be happy or have a Christmas, after what his mother had been through---he would definitely ensure this.

[anneapocalypse]

Saemus Dumar's situation just becomes that much more tragic when you truly understand the position that Viscount Marlowe Dumar is in. Marlowe is fully aware that he is a puppet of the Chantry, and that failure to comply with their every demand and show complete and unwavering support will earn him the same end as Perrin Threnhold. Saemus, by extension, is not merely the heir to the Viscount's seat but a puppet-in-training, and Marlowe is well aware that the Chantry will hold the same stranglehold over his son that it holds over him.

From this perspective, Marlowe's angst over Saemus's friendship with the Qunari is not merely that of an overbearing father seeking to mold his son in his own image, or a cynical politician anxious to save face. Marlowe Dumar is a father terrified for his son's fate.

Dumar's reign began with an unsubtle gift from the Knight-Commander: the mangled and blood-encrusted signet ring of the previous viscount who had attempted to oust the templars from Kirkwall, with a note that said, "His fate need not be yours." Marlowe knows. He knows what the Chantry will do to his son if he expresses doubts, if he is known to be a Qunari sympathizer, never mind a potential convert. In trying to dissuade his son from associating with the Qunari, he is trying in the only way he knows to save his son's life.

And his greatest fear is exactly what happens.

As he holds the body of his dead son, Marlowe Dumar laments, "What hope for this city, when we fail our own so completely?" The failure he speaks of is not the Chantry's, but his own. When Hawke presses him for action, he dismisses the idea of standing against the Qunari, saying, "I have already failed where it mattered most." This is really the end for Viscount Dumar. I doubt he puts up much if any resistance when the Qunari storm the Keep to kill him. His reign, his line, and his life are over when the Chantry murders his son.

[yar-kalibrun]

"Melancholy"

Viscount Fernan, my Bloodborne main character OC and the place associated with him - moist autumn night wood.

[thedemonofcat]

First time trying to come up with an idea in the Omegaverse.

Jaskier is considered rare among Omega for several reasons, which sets him apart from the norm. Firstly, he is a male Omega, a rarity in itself, as male Omegas are not very common. Due to their scarcity, male Omegas have often been treated as precious gems, valued for their uniqueness. Jaskier's gender alone makes him stand out among his peers.

Moreover, Jaskier possesses qualities that deviate from the stereotypical traits associated with Omega individuals. He is known for being headstrong and exceptionally talkative, which contrasts with the expected demeanor of a docile and reserved Omega

Interestingly, all the qualities that make Jaskier different from other Omegas are the very reasons why Geralt is deeply enamored with him. As an alpha, Geralt is often seen as the epitome of Alpha characteristics, except for the fact that he is a Witcher. The Witcher mutations have bestowed upon Geralt the genetic traits of an alpha, making him a unique blend of both human and monster.

Despite their individual oddities, Geralt and Jaskier have formed a remarkable bond as mates

One day, Jaskier woke up feeling unwell, experiencing bouts of morning sickness. Concerned for his mate's well-being, Geralt decided to take Jaskier to see Yennefer. Little did they know, Yennefer had a surprising revelation waiting for them—by some miraculous twist of fate, Jaskier was pregnant.

Given that witchers were believed to be sterile, Geralt never anticipated the possibility of Jaskier becoming pregnant. Nevertheless, Jaskier was content with the idea, considering his life as a traveling bard made it challenging to raise a child. However, Yennefer believed that destiny had played a hand in this situation, decreeing that Geralt and Jaskier should embrace their roles as parents.

Geralt and Jaskier experienced a mixture of nerves and excitement at the prospect of becoming parents. However, their joy was short-lived as they soon discovered the alarming truth—numerous individuals were relentlessly pursuing their unborn baby

In this unprecedented occurrence of a witcher baby, the belief spread that the child would possess unparalleled power, surpassing any known beings. A group with nefarious intentions devised a plan to kidnap Jaskier, intending to hold him captive until the baby was born and subsequently raise the child as their new leader. They were even prepared to eliminate Jaskier if he refused to comply with their demands after the baby's birth.

Before assuming the name Jaskier, he was known as Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. Jaskier had fled his home to escape the clutches of his controlling parents, who, despite hearing about Jaskier's pregnancy, adamantly refused to recognize Geralt as his mate. Jaskier's parents harbored intentions of arranging a marriage between him and a wealthy Alpha Lord, solely for the sake of social status and riches.

Moreover, the kingdom of Nilfgaard, in their ongoing efforts to coerce Ciri, Geralt's child surprise , into their grasp, recognized Jaskier as a potential bargaining chip. Consequently, their interest in capturing Jaskier intensified, surpassing their previous pursuits.

Now on the run, desperate to ensure the safety of their unborn child, Geralt is willing to go to any lengths to protect his beloved Jaskier. Together, they make their way towards Kaer Morhen, seeking refuge and the support of the other witchers.

However, the magical nature of the baby begins to pose problems. Jaskier's pregnancy progresses at an astonishing rate, with his belly growing larger by the day, making their arduous journey even more challenging. Walking becomes a struggle with Jaskier's prominent pregnant belly, and the fact that he is a male omega further complicates their ability to hide and remain inconspicuous.

To add to their concerns, it is discovered that the baby carries witcher mutations in its genes. As Jaskier's health deteriorates, Geralt's fears intensify, dreading the possibility that Jaskier may not survive the process of giving birth to a witcher child

[eleanor-bradstreet]

The Field: Dandelions (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader Modern AU Rated: G - mild suggestiveness, fluff and romance Word count: 2.7k

Part 2: Lavender Forever Masterpost

Summary: When you visit Aubrey Hall to celebrate an important day in your career, Benedict offers some new experiences.

Author's Note: The first in a four-part series based on songs about fields/nature that I associate with Benedict. This part is based on the song Dandelions by Ruth B

Today was the day. The day you were announced as Creative Director for Bridgerton House Enterprises. The day your life took a turn for the extraordinary. Even though you had known you would reach this tier and even though the man doing the announcing was one of your oldest friends, the enormity of the milestone still toyed with your nerves. The announcement was being rolled into the company’s first corporate outing at the CEO’s family home, Aubrey Hall. An embarrassingly large ancestral estate with sprawling grounds, it was a picturesque retreat for you and your colleagues to be feted while celebrating your successes and paving a roadmap for your future.

You had been there before of course, several times. It had actually been your idea to move the company outing to the spot. You found something reassuring in the calm grandeur of the place. Maybe it was the grounds themselves or maybe it was just your relationship with Anthony. Friends since uni, you had joined him and his innumerable siblings there for a few shooting weekends and holidays over the years. After chatty meals and some raucous nights that involved climbing out of windows, the latter of which you hoped his mother would never learn about, being there filled you with happy memories. 

You and the Viscount had stumbled upon one another in your first year, headed home from late night parties arm-in-arm, singing and shouting with that unfiltered, instantaneous friendship that can only be formed by two people who just met and are both obliterated with drink. After an extremely messy mashing of tongues and unsuccessful attempt to bed each other, you both woke with embarrassment, headaches and quick realizations that your personalities were not romantically compatible. You would either have ended up murdering or driving one another off cliffs with your shared obstinance, but it was exactly that challenging streak that bound you tightly as sardonic friends and academic rivals. You cheered one another through school and then cheered one another through life as he took his rightful place within his father’s company, and you carved out a career in marketing and design. When his former Creative Director had left, you were the first person he called. Even though your preexisting relationship was no secret, you had still wanted to prove yourself and learn the culture before being handed departmental reins, so for the past year you had worked in a lower level role, getting to know the team and the company’s needs until you had told Anthony you were ready to step up.

As excited as you were, several factors were amping your anxiety. The concern that you would be seen as little more than a nepotism hire. But you supposed there was nothing you could do about that. The details of the event had fallen under your purview too, and you had been juggling caterers and florists and groundskeepers until your head spun. And then there was the brother. Benedict Bridgerton. As a show of support the Bridgerton clan were in attendance at the outing too. It was their home after all. But that left you in constant danger of bumping into Benedict and experiencing the unavoidable effect he had on you.

The first time you saw him when Anthony invited you to Aubrey Hall years ago, it felt like an engine kicked on somewhere in your chest. A new, secondary energy source powering you through life simply by knowing he existed. It drove you to spend as much time as you could in his presence, roared with electricity whenever he was near and sputtered whenever you saw him with a paramour du jour. It was problematic how often he visited you in dreams and how you would flush with heat whenever Anthony mentioned him offhand at work. Benedict was mischievous, funny, and too charming for his own good, with all of the heart and soul to make up for Anthony’s acerbicism. Over the years of your acquaintance you had become friendly if not exactly friends, but you admittedly had never known anybody like him. You knew he did something artistic for a living but not exactly what. You knew he had his own place in London but not exactly where. You knew you had caught him looking at you at recent gatherings but weren’t sure exactly why. What you did know was that your eyes were incapable of looking at anything other than him when you were in the same room, and he was only making it worse by wearing a canary yellow button down to the outing.

You had moved through the event spaces trying to avoid him, not needing anything to fluster you more. That was why you were somewhat hiding in a distant hall of the house, one of your favorites where the family displayed a portion of their considerable art collection. Pieces were always changed out and you found yourself drawn to a new one, a landscape. It was a field on a spring day, windswept with rolling hills in the distance. The lush grass was dotted with flowers - yellow, white, and blue. You felt as if you were standing inside of it, a cool breeze tickling your skin and rustling through the bordering treeline.

You were lost inside the painting when someone spoke next to you, startling you out of your reverie.

“Ah! Dreams in Kent. Like what you see?”

It was Benedict. Of course it was. Beaming at you with that grin that you thought should be criminalized, but which always made you feel better somehow. Your evasion efforts had failed and your heart was now racing somewhere in the vicinity of your throat.

“Yes,” you smiled, trying to act casual. You turned back to the painting - the only safe place to set your eyes. “It’s beautiful. Your family has quite the collection. I’m sure it took generations of curation.”

His eyes followed yours to the canvas. “Oh, we didn’t find this one. We know the artist.” 

“Lucky for you. They’re talented.”

You could hear the smile in his voice. “Mmm. And he does commissions, if you’re interested.” He shuffled to stand closer at your side, both of you keeping your eyes on the gallery wall. You tried to school your breathing, focusing on the weight of the champagne flute in your hand, something solid unlike your legs.

“About how much for something this size, do you think?” You gestured to the painting mostly to humor him and keep the conversation light. You weren’t sure you were in the market for commissioned landscapes.

“For you? No charge.” 

It took your reeling brain a moment to process what he said. Then you realized he was facing you and smiling broadly. “You didn’t paint this?” you gasped. The cheeky devil. He lowered his head and blushed. Something inside you ached. As if he weren’t beautiful enough on his own, now you were forced to witness the multiplicative beauty wrought by his talented hands. You most certainly wanted to commission a piece now. “Oh my god, I had no idea,” you marveled. “You’re a real artist.”

“Real?” As soon as his brow knotted you wanted to kick yourself.

You sputtered, hoping he wouldn’t take offense. “Oh, I just mean…I knew you were an artist but I didn’t know what kind of work you did. I was thinking more pop art or abstract…”

“Like sculptures made out of cotton balls?” His grin widened, creasing the most delightful lines around his bright eyes. 

You breathed a sigh of relief. You should have known he would be good humored. “Exactly.”

“Is that what Anthony says about me?” He arched a brow.

“No,” you said firmly, and it was the truth. “He’s obviously proud of you. He just left out the classical landscape bit.” 

The warmth that radiated out of his smile finally put you at ease. Yes, you had a crush on him but you were a grown woman. You could hold yourself together during some friendly banter. You didn’t know why Benedict alone seemed to reduce you to a babbling schoolgirl. Interactions with him felt more poignant, more significant somehow. Whenever he looked at you, even though it was hard to breathe, paradoxically you felt alive, free. You felt happy. You’d probably be in closer proximity to him once you stepped into Anthony’s C suite, so it was time to relax and get to know him better.

You turned back to the painting. “So was this plein air?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “A field on the edge of the property. It’s a quiet spot which is…hard to find with my family.” He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans then his voice dropped to a register you had never heard before. “Speaking of, you’ve been here before but you haven’t seen this spot. Do you want an extended tour? To survey for a vista you may want to commission?”

His eyes leveled on you, glinting. There went any attempt at keeping your composure. This was blatant flirtation. An invitation to…something. A private tour to a secluded spot? Your heart was doing its best to make itself heard again, thrumming to the point you worried it was visible. The evening’s scheduled events wouldn’t begin for another two hours, and you reasoned that some exercise may help settle your nerves. Was there any way you could decline this offer?

“Alright.”

True to his word, Benedict showed you features of the Bridgerton property that you had never seen before. A far flung rose garden filled with statuary, agricultural outbuildings that had fallen into picturesque stages of disrepair, and the looming stone orangery that you had always observed from a distance but never approached. Unlike the goat barns it was still in use, housing an array of palms and warm weather plants in rows across the chess-tiled floor. Even though you had known the Bridgerton family for years, the trappings of their old money lives still gave you pause sometimes. You had hobnobbed with the higher classes your entire life but your middle class roots still caused you to gawp at and ridicule certain things. You each plucked an orange and ate them as you hiked past the lake in which you had swum before, crossed a fallow field and rounded a copse of trees. 

Then you saw it. Benedict had captured the field so perfectly, you knew you had arrived before he even spoke. The idyllic fantasy his painting had conjured in your mind was now fully realized, grass tickling at your ankles and breeze brushing through the nearby treeline. Fields rolled out before you to the horizon, beyond the Bridgerton property line but unbroken by any structures or barriers. Just a sea of peaceful green dotted spectacularly with the bright yellow of countless dandelions. It almost felt as if you had stepped out of time into some pocket dimension that only Benedict knew how to access.

“It’s stunning.” You suddenly realized that he was dressed perfectly to match the surroundings, looking like an overgrown dandelion himself in his yellow shirt. It was adorable and endearing. You smiled. “Have you ever made dandelion wine?”

“What?” He chuckled. “What on earth is that?”

“Ah, of course not. Someone whose family has an orangery wouldn’t have tried such a peasant recipe.” You smirked, unable to resist the jab. The field was invoking memories from your childhood. Hazy summers at your grandparents’ cottage in Cornwall where they taught you to gather and ferment the blooms into a sweet concoction. With their ample supply, you couldn’t help but feel that the Bridgertons were missing out.

“I’m not classist toward anything that can take the edge off.” Benedict slowly moved deeper into the field, dragging his feet through the grass. 

“Why is there an edge?”

He huffed a sigh, staring out at the horizon. “The usual. Quarter life crisis. Searching for a direction. Posh boy twat who dreams of being a starving artist.”

His crooked grin didn’t mask the plaintive look in his eyes. Blessed as he was with good looks, wealth and talent, the idea that Benedict may have anything less than a perfect life had never occurred to you.

“From what I’ve seen you’ve more than accomplished the artist bit. And consider it a blessing that you don’t have to starve. It appears to me that you have everything you need.” 

“Some things perhaps, but not everything.”

His tone was so uncharacteristically serious, his gaze so weighted, you worried he had found your comment dismissive. Now you had to make him smile again. Scanning the ground you quickly found a flower that had tufted into a perfect white orb. You picked it and held it out to him. “Then wish for what you want.”

He brightened and walked back toward you with a playful air. “Do you think it will come true?”

You shrugged. “Can’t hurt to try.”

He bent and picked another tufted stem. “Only if you wish too.” 

Something lodged in your throat. The last thing you had expected on this already monumental day was to be cozying up with your friend and boss’s younger brother for whom you had carried a candle for years. The heady excitement coupled with the beautiful backdrop was making everything feel surreal. The event at the house could have been taking place in another world entirely. All of your focus was here.

Smirking at each other, you stepped close and simultaneously blew on the flower held in the other’s hand. The gauzy seeds rose and swirled around you both, heightening the strange magic of the moment. You fought not to react to his proximity and the warm gust of his breath over your hand. Closing your eyes you made your silent wish - that this flirtation would continue; that Benedict perhaps saw you as you saw him; that you could call him your own, even if just for a short while. When you reopened them he was smiling at you.

“What did you wish for?”

You backed up a step, laughing. “No, that’s not how this works. If I tell you, it definitely won’t come true.”

“How do you know?” he lilted, closing the space between you again. “What if I’m the person who can deliver what you want?”

Oh god, was your wish that obvious? Was it so easy to read how much you wanted him? You supposed it was a common occurrence for a man like him but wanted to chastise yourself nonetheless. You would have if your mind wasn’t already paralyzed by the knowing look on his face.

You somehow managed to find your voice, deflecting meagerly. “You first. What did you wish for?” “Ah, I see how it is,” he chuckled. Then everything about his demeanor grew soft and intent. His blue-grey eyes searched yours and you were transfixed by their depth, as if within them you could see forever. “I wished for something just out of reach. Something I’ve been thinking about for a long time. Or someone I should say.”

“Someone?” You asked, your voice tremulous. Your heart was pounding. There was no mistaking where this was going but you could scarcely believe that it was actually happening. Everything around you started to fall away, scattering like the dandelion tufts. Everything but his eyes, his lips, and the tender words that escaped them.

“I suppose my wish was to know if they thought of me too.” He peered up through his dark lashes, a calculated move that you knew was designed to devastate you.

“How funny,” you croaked, your voice barely above a whisper as you swayed toward him. “I wished the same thing.”

His eyes lit up and the engine within your chest roared. “Well look at that,” he leaned in, looping an arm around your waist. “My wish came true.” 

You moved with equal enthusiasm, pressing your lips together in a moment that was soft but fervent, carrying the weight of hidden feelings and the desire to explore further. He tasted of oranges and comfort; he felt so correct. You wound your arms around each other, warmed by the sun that shone bright across the field. You had been kissed many times in your life, but nothing compared to the breathless wonder of this one. This felt like once in a lifetime. A distant corner of your mind remembered that you needed to get back to the house soon but you were finding it difficult to care. Benedict began to hum happily as he kissed you over and over, winding a hand into your hair as he playfully nipped and sucked at your lips. Pulling back, he smiled and twirled the dandelion stem between his fingers. “These things do work.”

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky

[thesharkspajamas]

ANSWERS: How much does Tumblr know about the British upper class and aristocracy? ORIGINAL POST HERE

Do you know why people pay for private members' clubs in London?

A: It's like having your own staffed living room in the centre of town. It's familiar in terms of dress code, behaviour, discretion, and even interior decor. The behaviour part is most important; it takes away most of the uncertainties of dining in public, and you won't be photographed. Examples include The Carlton Club and The Caledonian Club. With the big daddies being White's (mentioned in Bridgerton) and the Aspinall club. This gif from Netflix's 'The Gentlemen' strike me as a club environment.

What is Ascot?

A: "The races" refers to horse racing. Ascot is possibly the biggest event of that particular calendar. It has a dress code which varies between enclosures (this is where the people are sorted into areas depending on how much they paid for their tickets/if they're a member of the club) but generally dictates suits and hats.

What is a duke/duchess?

A: the highest ranking member of the peerage (the titled aristocracy). Prince William became the Duke of Cambridge when he married his wife Catherine Middleton.

What is millinery?

A: Hat making for events such as Ascot. I reccomend Phillip Treacy's website for examples. He has designed for the Royals on numerous occasions.

Does a marchioness rank above a duke?

A: A marchioness is the wife or widow of a marquess. The five ranks of British nobility, in descending order, are duke, marquess, earl, viscount, and baron. Here for more info

What is the House of Lords?

A: The second chamber of the British Parliament. Quite literally full of Lords unelected by the public. Most are appointed seats for their lifespan for achievements in their careers, some are hereditary seats. (Yes, really)

What is primogeniture?

A: The rule that a title can only be inherited by the eldest male offspring. Passing over any females even if the nearest male heir is a cousin of the main family. This doesn't apply to the Royal family anymore, but it does apply to other members of the peerage.

Which career do graduates from Norland college pursue?

A: Nannies to the super rich. (They're kind of awesome)

What is Harrods?

A: The most upscale department store in the world. They used to cater all ALL the whims of the super-wealthy - able to procure pretty much anything, including a lion. There's an old joke that someone asked Harrods to procure a camel for them and the sales associate replied, "With one hump or two?"

What is a Royal Warrant?

A: A Royal Warrant of Appointment is granted as a mark of recognition to people or companies who have regularly supplied goods or services to the Royal Household.

What type of clothing is associated with Savile Row?

A: Bespoke and tailored suits for men.

What is Henley Royal Regatta?

A series of rowing races held at Henley, also known as the Mecca of Rowing. Similar to Ascot in some regards.

When can a tiara be worn, and by whom?

A: By married women, at white tie events and coronations, and only after six o'clock in the evening. The exception is for a bride on her wedding day. You don't actually have to be titled to wear one.

What is finishing school?

A course one might attend after school to learn the necessary skills for their place in society as a socialite, a leader or a public figure. Posture, table manners, hosting, smalltalk, even getting out of low cars in short skirts can feature on the curriculum. This is generally regarded as very posh.

If you actually read down here I hope you found it interesting - it took me ages to type this all out lmao :)

[goodoldroyalty]

The Duke and Duchess of York with Sir Hugh Bell and Lady Florence Bell at Stockton for the Railway Centenary 1925

‘Replying to the welcome extended to him at Darlington on July 2, 1925. The Duke of York said that the exhibition which the town ha got together would bring vividly before every one the amazing progress which had been made on British railways. He paid tribute to the pioneer work of Edward Peasse, “the first railway statesman.” and to George Stephenson, “the railway locomotive engineer.” The world owed to these famous North countryman a debt of gratitude which it would be impossible to repay.

Their Royal Highness were greatly interested in the Exhibition, which provided a study in contrast. The models lent by the Great Western Railway Co. included one of the engine “Alma,” dated 1850. There was also a model of the “Jenny Lind,” which has a sentimental and industrial association with the railway men: and which was carried in procession around the city of york to celebrate the inauguration of a nine-hour working day, which came into forse in 1872.’

THE BRISBANE COURTIER

Lady Bell, The Duke of York, Viscount Grey. The Duchess of York and Sir Hugh Bell, seated in the Grandstand, await the arrival of the procession. In the foreground are silver models of "Locomotion" and the crude coach used by the Stockton and Darlington Railway Committee on opening day 1825. These mementos were presented to The Duke and Duchess by Viscount Grey at the end of the procession.