#alliance of Figurative Artists

[eon-break]

LABIRHIN — THE STARS ARE FALLING

[geigergearz]

actually. i was gonna wait till id done more of them to post them but

ive been working on a mgs wc au. if anyone cares .

[artist-ellen]

Alicent's wedding dress

In the tv show we don't get to see Alicent's wedding. But at one point it was supposed to feature in an episode so we have behind the scenes content for it all the same. And I hate to say it, but it's not my cup of tea. The crown is interesting, but matches nothing any other major character wears. Where did it come from? Why? There are no answers. Why don't we see other Targaryen's have little shoulder wings? Because it looks silly? Yeah. So how could I resist trying my hand at designing her wedding dress? And I'll say it again, these are not easy costumes to design, I went back and forth over my options for a whole bunch of these over and over again. Maybe I'll figure out how to share the rejected designs I labored over at some point.

One of the things I am trying to emphasize is the sleeve differences. Alicent moves between the tear-drop shaped sleeves (like the ones here and in her first childhood friend dress, for her Targaryen-alliance outfits to match Rhaenyra) and what I'm going to call 'mushroom shaped' sleeves where the puff is at the shoulder and is tight from the elbow to wrist (anti/opposite Targaryen style). We should also see that in her necklaces. A lot of the Targaryen ladies wear thick gold choker-adjacent necklaces for the Byzantine collar effect. Alicent doesn't wear that kind of jewelry very often and this is one of the most Targaryen style-aligned necklaces that she wears. Also while her headdress is based on Byzantine fashion the crown is much more Northern-Europe Medieval than Byzantine. A little melding of fashion, hints at the opposing sides again.

I am the artist! Do not post without permission & credit! Thank you! Come visit me over on: instagram, tiktok or check out my coloring book available now \ („• ֊ •„) /

https://linktr.ee/ellen.artistic

[lucy-water]

Preußen's journal, September 1792:

L'Autrichienne, that was how they called her in Paris.

If I had arrived at La Force Prison a few minutes late, she would have shared the same fate with The Angel of Penthièvre, or maybe worse.

As I expected, the Archduchess was stubborn and initially insisted on staying, did not want to abandon The Royal family behind. She even begged me to help them.

I refused to do so. My hands were tied with the tumultuous situation in France. Saving her alone was already dangerous, I could not afford to play the role of a gallant Knight while risking my men's life.

The Archduchess tried to resist and thus, left me no other choice. I had to use force upon her in order to bring her outside. Thanks to the uniform I had stolen, the frantic mobs thought I were a guard carrying a prisoner's body to dump, my disguise allowed us to pass to safety.

The military physician had examined the Archduchess's health. Overall, except for being a bit underweight and having a bruise on her forehead caused by me, she was in good condition to carry on with the travel.

We will reach to Vienna soon. I have decided to be the Archduchess's companion during these time. Physically, she might appear normal but I cannot say the same to her mind. It's the best for all of us if I keep an eye on her.

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

Historical background and explaination:

L'Autrichienne: This was the nickname the French gave to Marie Antoinette during her downfall. Roughly translation means "the Austrian bit.."

At the end of August 1792, the news of the Prussian Army would be advancing to Paris after their victory in Verdun, had caused disaster chaos in the city. Fearing the prisoners of the newly established Republic would join with the enemy, there were people decided the prisoners should be got rid of. On 2 September, more than 1,000 prisoners in Paris (and later outside the city) were k*ll and the numbers would only increase including normal citizens until stopped on 6 September. Princess de Lamballe, a favorite of Marie Antoinette, also known as The Angel of Penthièvre for her kindness toward the poor was among the victims of this horrendous incident. She was still remembered as one of the tragic figures in the French Revolution.

A year before, on 27 August 1791 Prussia and the Holly Roman Empire signed Declaration of Pillnitz, to intervene if the King of France and his family's safety was in threat.

To honor the Declaration and strength the new alliance, Prussia decided to save Lady Austria during the time of the French Revolution and this was also the point they officially fell for each other. For him, she was his damsel in distress, the Martyr who would sacrifice for the people that she loved and cared for no matter the situation. For her, he was the hero of her life, the Knight in shining armor came to life, that she had long forgotten.

However, a love that bloomed in the midst of tears and wars would hardly have any happy ending.

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Disclaimer

Please note that, this is my commission and not my art. Credit to the artist: ann_duong (twister: @ann_akii) for creating this for me.

[pmamtraveller]

ALEXANDRE CABANEL ‐ CLEOPATRA TESTING POISONS ON CONDEMNED PRISONERS, 1887

Cleopatra VII is portrayed reclining on a luxurious banquette, exuding an air of detachment and authority. She wears the Néret crown, symbolizing her royal status as an Egyptian queen. Next to her is a courtesan who is waving a fly swatter, adding to the sense of luxury and indolence. To Cleopatra's left, the scene shifts to a darker, more tragic tableau where prisoners, already sentenced to death, are being subjected to the poisons. One prisoner is shown in agony, another is being carried away, presumably dead from the poisoning.

Cleopatra's reign was marked by her alliances with Julius Caesar and Mark Antony, both of which were pivotal in her strategy to maintain Egyptian independence from Rome. The story behind Cleopatra testing poisons stems from ancient historical accounts, particularly from the writings of Plutarch in his "Life of Antony." Plutarch describes Cleopatra as having a curiosity about poisons, particularly about which ones would cause the least pain or be most effective for suicide to evade capture by her enemies, especially after the defeat at the Battle of Actium (31 BC).

Initially, the painting was met with significant acclaim. Cabanel was already an established figure in the art world, known for his mastery of the Academic style, and critics often celebrated his technical skills. However, not all reactions were positive. Some critics and artists from the burgeoning avant-garde movements, like the Impressionists, found fault with the Academic style's rigid adherence to convention and its perceived lack of innovation. The depiction of such a dark and morally complex scene might have also provoked discomfort or criticism among those who felt art should uplift or instruct morally.

[loveriotss]

[ 🥐 ] LOVE ALLIANCE : ALLIANCE D'AMOUR ⸻ MEET : katsuki bakugo's crew | k.bakugo x gn! reader smau series

→ explosion hero : great explosion murder god dynamight - katsuki bakugo → gossip channels and hero update accounts love to see him coming (they can depend on him alone to keep their shit running because of how much trouble he gets himself into 😭). → plays drums for jirou's music. → he has a faceless cooking channel, kinda like asmr ykwim. he has never openly admitted that the account belongs to him but his fangirls and boys can recognize him anywhere.

→ sturdy hero : red riot - ejirou kirishima → is in a relationship with mina ashido. → apart from his official hero accounts, he has a very successful workout channel.

→ stun gun hero : chargebolt - denki kaminari → has the feels for kyoka jirou (yes his bio is about her). → is a huge collector. it can vary from figures to comic books to mangas to rocks. → plays the guitar for jirou's music.

→ taping hero : cellophane - hanta sero → occasionally streams. he mostly plays games and talks to his audience. → currently learning the electric guitar. → adopted a cat that he saved from a tree.

→ acid hero : pinky - mina ashido → in a relationship with ejirou kirishima. → another big fashion girlie!! always pulls up to events in the most stunning looks. → does dance covers too!

→ hearing hero : earphone jack - kyoka jirou → has a prosthetic for her left ear. → she is also a music artist! she doesn't do concerts yet because of her hero schedule, but has been posting song covers and releasing songs for a while! [ a/n: cologne by beabadoobee is the song i picked for her! ]

ᯓ★» LOVE ALLIANCE !

< previous | masterlist | next >

ᯓ★» ALLIANCE SECRETS !

୨ৎ : for a long time, jirou was quite shy and wasn't really confident enough to post her songs/covers but her friends encouraged her and she ended up gaining popularity! ୨ৎ : denki LOVES collecting funko pops. there will be stacks and stacks of them on his shelves and walls. ୨ৎ : sero is like a crazy cat lady except he has only one cat. spoils his little princess so much and it's hard to imagine that once upon a time he didn't really like cats that much. ୨ৎ : mina does crocheting in her free time. she complains about how much she hates it and how time consuming it is but will continue doing it (ME FR). ୨ৎ : kirishima's hair is lowk dying because of how much he dyes it. ୨ৎ : bakugo's highschool stories keep popping up now and then and it HAUNTS him. he'll be having a perfectely good day and then one of his friends will send a picture of him and his hair slicked back when he interned for jeanist.

ᯓ★» AUTHOR'S NOTE !

im having so much fun giving them their little side jobs/hobbies.

ᯓ★» TAGLIST !

( comment on masterlist to be added + pls check ur settings if you're unable to be tagged ) @chsvok @ch3rryjampi3 @emmab3mma @pikachuzhc @cholios @zaiban2989 @hearts4heidi @ikissfade @themultifandomgirl @god-hangry-otter @solecitoszn @sunlix143 @rikislove @fackeraccount @chaoslibra @4rmins @harryzcherry @luvvvamy

©loveriotss — all rights reserved to me. don’t try to copy/steal my work. do not use any of my ideas/translate my work without my permission.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Villain: The Hollow Lords

Though their reign was long thought ended, this circle of skeletal tyrants have returned from the dark depths of history to conquer the ream once again. Their awakening heralded by a tide of destruction and plague meant to destabilize the land and seed it with corpses to make up their army of undead.

Something is wrong with this story though, details that don't match up, an unknown will at work behind the actions of the lifeless villains. Whatever threat they may pose, an even greater danger pulls the strings of the hollow lords, a danger the party will confront all too soon.

Adventure Hooks:

Before they awaken, the hollow lords should be woven into the campaign as an innocuous background detail, a threat from a previous millennium which defined the heroes of that era. Forgotten today outside of festival traditions, old monuments, and the standing alliances between kingdoms, This sets a standard against which the party can measure themselves.

Scenario A sees the Hollow Lords emerging in the party's own realm, a wave of inexplicable disasters paving the way for the rise of an emerging threat just in time for our heroes to enter a new adventuring tier. In this instance it's about preventing the disasters from spreading/ the undead from establishing their foothold across a land the party has just finished journeying across. Our heroes will be stretched thin, People they know are going to suffer, and deliberate choices will need to be made about what they can save. Looking into the history of the lords only raises more questions, namely that many of them emerged from graves belonging to people who were born and died centuries after the original Hollow Lords were vanquished.

Scenario B has the Hollow Lords as an established threat, ruling over a Mordor like kingdom of darkness either bordering the party's own homeland, or being the party's own homeland if you want to get bleak about it. After our heroes defeat their first of the villains they receive a strange invitation, another of the Hollow Lords has broken partially free of whatever enchantment binds them and is pleading for help. If the party are willing to take a gamble, this rogue undead is willing to use all its dread power to aid them if they can figure out a way to put it to rest for good.

Though each was mighty or powerful in their own right, there was no unholy conspiracy that connected the Hollow Lords during their living years, at-least not on their part. Instead they were all called back to the mortal plane by a veiled necromancer who had some invisible claim on their soul. Stripped of their will, they were forced to act on behalf of this faceless puppeteer, allowing whoever it was beneath the skullmask and robe to carve out a kingdom while remaining in the shadows. Most troubling of all, those one or two Hollow Lords that were around for their first attempt at world domination also remember the veiled necromancer, speaking of a conspiracy centuries in the making.

Artist

[hoodreader]

Mars asks:

“Why do you struggle?”

read for mars within a persona chart to learn how u may be challenged in that persona chart. mars is the planet representative of struggles and hardship, things not being achieved without a little strife or resistance. within persona charts, mars thus can represent how we may struggle to the core of the planet. remedy the planet to offset the malefic influences of mars. enjoy.

✶ ASC PERSONA CHART ✶

this shows challenges with the native's health, sense of direction, self embodiment/sense of self, spirit, and overall life, as the ascendant represents the moment the native came into existence. as the ascendant also tells us how we enter new environments; how we are "born," it can show those metaphorical ‘labor pains’ associated with that.

✶ MOON PERSONA CHART ✶

how u struggle to find security. it also tells u of what things may cause u to revert back to survival mode: like u have to protect or guard urself. things that challenge ur sense of comfort. it can cause a struggle in emotional relation, regulation, and belonging in community. it can show u ways u may struggle with ur mother, women around u, older sibling(s) if the native has one, or family/home environments as well. things that challenge ur ability to emotionally regulate. with fertility or hormonal balances.

✶ ☿ MERCURY PERSONA CHART ✶

how u struggle to communicate, think, write, process information, or relate to community as well. it can also show struggles with ur siblings. challenges ur ability to adapt to environment. and it causes struggle within the mind. struggles relating to focus, can show distractions.

✶ ♀ VENUS PERSONA CHART ✶

mars and venus are each others' detriment. in the venus PC, mars shows what challenges ur sense of peace. it also represents challenges/tension in romantic/sexual relationships (this could range anywhere from lowered libido to hypersexuality to abuse, sadly) venus is also the planet of our aesthetic and artistic expression, so mars in the venus PC can show how our creativity is challenged or how we struggle with it. how our pleasure, companionship, is challenged. it also tells us our struggles with femininity and/or women around u. challenges relating to forgiveness or reconciliation.

✶ ♂ MARS PERSONA CHART ✶

mars within the mars PC is the deeper expression of the natal mars. but since mars is a malefic, my theory is that this doesn't necessarily cancel out the malefic influence as much as it exposes the weakness of it. this can show a challenge with how u advocate (for urself & others), ur drive, ur libido. as mars is the warrior, it can also show generally how u struggle to triumph. struggles relating to health issues, with being subdued or authority figures; what "tortues" u. struggles to masculinity and/or men.

✶ ♃ JUPITER PERSONA CHART ✶

struggles of fertility/the womb/the semen/the liver, marriage (chiefly, fidelity), of attaining freedom and liberation. struggles with accepting blessings, gifts, fortune. hardships and challenges relating to trusting. to generosity. to alliances.

✶ ♄ SATURN PERSONA CHART ✶

the development of ur struggles and challenges as u age, karmic struggles, struggles with authoritative figures. challenges with shame and humility. how u are challenged by authority. ways u are troubled by reputation. challenges of the spiritual entities u possess. infertility. discipline.

[lwiann]

May I ask for angsty Gortash headcanons now too *does grabby hands*

1. He never mourned Durge properly. Rather, he did not have the time to. Dire times.

2. He looked for Durge in Tav when he offered that alliance but never really filled that void.

3. He's insecure with his upbringing. He's not a real noble. So he turns those insecurities into his masterpieces, in a fucked up sense. His atrocities. He genuinely believes hes doing the right thing.

4. Durge is the only one in his mind when he dies. If Durge is the one who kills him, he's a little more at peace.

5. He truly did love and care for Durge the only way he knew how. The feeling is genuine and mutual.

6. He can never let his parents go. He can't ever have them killed. They still haunt him. That's also why he dislikes the idea of Durge being so obedient to his own father, but he understands the fear. The devotion. He is a bit jealous of the love, even though it's not really a good kind of love.

7. I dont like the idea that Gortash learned to fuck in the house of hope through haarlep because he would have been ten years old and uh,,, you know... But I do like the idea that he observed, and haarlep knew young Gortash was watching, and it gave him a sort of indifferent view of sex. He sleeps around for benefits and kept an open mind regarding sex, that it can be a weapon. A tool. And he got so much of what he wanted from that. It didnt make him feel dirty or bad, but just indifferent. Like it's something he'll do not for pleasure but for duty. Nothing too intense like with Astarion. Just indifference. It wasnt until Durge that he felt an actual desire. Intense, obsessive desire. And hes figured out so many kinks with Durge lol.

I just really like the hc that he's not as sexually rabid and is actually tame about it but has the most insane unwell sex with Durge.

8. Burn scars. I recently discovered this hc from my favourite artist and i think it's so good. Some people also talk about a disability with his walking cane and I think of it a lot.

9. He's a schedule freak. He is strict with his sleep. With his meetings. With his meals. Just an obsessive guy who focuses on the littlest of details. He cant go too much because it genuinely makes him want to throw up. He has an image to maintain and hes thorough with it. He doesnt like noises during meetings. Very meticulous. Durge is freedom to him. Or just a different kind of obsession honestly.

10. There was a point in time where he planned to overthrow Bane and Bhaal to free him and durge. So they can be together. It all fell apart when durge died. It wasnt just orin's fault. It was partly his. He lost focus and vision when he lost durge, hence why it became such a mess.

[acotarxreader]

The Art of You

Cassian x Reader

Synopsis: Cassian found recovery in the art that he created while preparing to apply to art school in New York, his greatest muse being his high-flying down-to-earth socialite girlfriend, you.

Warning; Fluff and modern

A/N: A little Cass fic dedicated to absolutely wonderfully kind and ever-lovely Cassian Queen @sarawritestories on her birthday. Happy (early) Birthday Friend Xx

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“YNN, can you just please stop fidgeting” 

“I’m so boreeeeeeeed Cass” You whined out, your voice echoing around Azriel and Rhysand’s apartment before you fixed your posture to sit straight once again on the stool. 

“Well, blame Az, it's not my fault someone ate my bowl of fruit” Azriel rolled his eyes from the dining room chair he rocked back and forth, chucking the core of an apple into a cerulean bowl. Cassian fired a piece of charcoal directly into his best friend's eye as he winked at him A howl left Azriel, immediately gaining a laugh from the both of you. Cassian quickly took a picture of his two best friends and their merriment.

“It'll be easier to draw from a reference who doesn't have the bladder of a Chihuahua” You glared playfully at his words and he took another picture.

“Well, I gotta go anyway Cass, my lovely Aunt will be wondering where I am” You slipped from the chair and into your jacket, Cassian's face sinking. 

“How will she react when she hears you’re in love with a starving artist and his soul-searching friends, ruining the image of a socialite” Azriel spoke playfully, trying to lighten the tension from you with having to return to your hectic household. 

“I didn’t know you had a soul Az” you teased, buttoning up your coat, ready to face the bone-chilling gales of New York in the Winter.

“Rhy’s dad bought him one” 

“Don’t be jealous Cass, you could have moved in with us but no, you chose the damp and rot of that hole you call home” Azriel laughed out to Cassian's toying, Cassian promptly firing more charcoal his way. 

“I’m sure she’d love if I social climbed my way to someone like Rhysand”

“Ouch” Rhysand emerged from the bathroom, waist swaddled in a thick fluffy towel, still damp from his shower. You had met Rhysand many years ago through various social functions your Aunt and Uncle dragged you to. The both of you quickly form an alliance of mischief at the events to keep yourselves from boredom. Cassian and Azriel came into your life once Rhysand had finally moved home to New York bringing them along for the fun. Their friendship spanning countless years of Summer camps together from which you had heard such grand stories, you all quickly became fast friends shortly after their arrival. 

“Yeah tell her it's the heir to a fortune you’re in love with and not the unemployed artist, what both of your families have groomed you for for years” 

“Gross” both you and Rhysand replied in unison

“Az, I’m not unemployed, I’m retired from active military duty. I’m just on leave while I recover and they figure out what to do with me” Cassian rolled his eyes for the millionth time, gathering the creative supplies that had helped him through his toughest months since returning from his time in service. 

“Retired like an old man” He nudged you gently while you smirked at him. 

“If it’s just leave then why are you applying for art school here?” Rhysand shot from his bedroom door, a raised eyebrow.

“Because-because-”

“-Because he’s great at it, Feyre is gonna try to get his art into the gallery she’s managing”

“Ah nepotism”

“Rhys, y’know what they say about those in glass houses” The group laughed towards the former military man as he reached your side smiling, forever happy you always knew what to say to defend him and his decisions. 

“Right kids, I gotta go” You pecked Cassian's cheek, your two other best friends groaning at the sight.

—---------------------------------------

The following night you found yourself waiting outside the rusting entrance to Cassian's apartment, many many many subway stops from where you, Rhysand and Azriel’s playground was. You wrapped your thick designer coat tighter around you fighting off the cold while waiting for Cassian to buzz you into his humble home. You subconsciously placed your car key between your fingers, ready to use it at any moment to defend yourself in the dilapidating area. The sound of the cage humming to release from its locks in front of you filled you instantly with relief, you pulled it to access the entrance to the block of apartments stairway. 

Cassian stole the cold away from you in his usual all-encompassing hug. He promptly took your coat for you as you sat down on the tattered couch. The apartment in its completeness was probably the size of Rhysand and Azriel’s sitting room alone. The oven could practically be reached from the couch but there was still room for Cassian's extensive video collection and a small table for two. Adjacent to the kitchen was the tiny bathroom and the entrance to his bedroom, the double bed nearly touching all four walls, a nest of cushioning you frequented. 

“Why don’t you ever use that closest?” You quizzed as Cassian draped your coat along the back of the dining room chair. Cassian stiffened for a moment before turning back to you with a shrug. 

“Emm that’s where I keep the dead bodies” you chuckled at him, he returned the smile. He dragged the second chair to land across from you where he sat and began to sketch, another one of your evenings to be spent with Cassian practising his portrait work. 

“Are you going to allow me to see this one?”

“My love, you know that’s not how this operation works” You sighed, knowing you should have anticipated his reply, he never let you see any of the works where you were the subject. 

“How come I’ve never seen the inside of that closet?” you gestured with your chin to the door behind him. 

“How come I’ve never met your aunt and uncle? Hm? We’ve been together almost a year”

“Touche-” You laughed “-they’re terrible people, Cass, they don’t deserve to meet you”

“Even still, maybe Az is right and you should tell them it's Rhysand that keeps you away from them so much”

“I’d rather swim up the Hudson in January” You smiled away at the growing sad tone in his voice, his smile growing across his face as he lowered his gaze back to the pad of paper, exhaling loudly in frustration. By 11 pm Cassian had gone through countless sheets of thick paper and abandoned all of the versions of you without allowing you so much as a glance. 

“Right, I need coffee” he stood, tossing the closed pad to the floor. 

“I’m gonna grab one of your sweatshirts, it's so cold in here” You could almost see Cassian's breath as he laughed at you. He made his way into the bathroom as you returned to the couch, wrapping the long sleeves in balls in your hand, attempting to trap what heat you could. 

“My love, can you throw me in a hand towel please” 

“Yeah where are they?” you called back to him through the closed door.

“In the closest by the- WAIT ACTUALLY I’LL GET IT MYSELF” His shouts came too slowly for you, the ounce of permission you had waited for for so long allowed you to finally pull the door of the hall closet open. Cassian dashed from the bathroom, his wet hand reaching for the door as you opened it but not quickly enough, a loud whoosh filled the apartment with sheets and sheets of paper, it tumbling out like a tsunami. Reams and reams of endless amounts of art washed over the two of you flooding the ground of the apartment. 

“Gods! You’re a hoarder! My boyfriend is a hoarder! I’m going to end up on the news after they dig us out of this!” You laughed lightly, Cassian stepping out of the almost ankle-high amount of his secret to stand between you and the door, your chests almost touching. 

“You don't need to see in there, it's all rough drafts of sketches that never came to be...it's all waste paper….” You raised an eyebrow before stepping back from him, looking down at the vast amount of sketches at your feet. Cassian dipped down quickly, attempting to pull back the drawings before you could properly examine them. It was too late, you had seen the vast amount of countless drawings, sketches, etches of you and your friends. Paint, chalk, pastels, pencil, watercolour, you name it and there were half finished creations everywhere.

“Are thes- are these me?” You just collected a random sample from your feet, Cassian seeming immediately ashamed taking them from you only to have you quickly replace them with others.

“They're not done...none of them are, I can't quite get you no matter what I do...you must think I'm crazy” You were almost too busy looking at the intricate details to hear him. You separated your eyes from the pages to focus on the walls of the closet. They too were covered with pages but also pictures. Pictures of you and your friends, you on your own, you and him. You traced your fingers across a few of them with Cassian’s eyes fixed on your every movement for any sign of negative expression. Instead you just seemed amazed at the sheer quantity and quality. You stepped around him to reach for a photo of the two of you, you both making goofy faces at the camera, a memory from your attempt to ride a tandem bike through Central Park. You laughed lightly at the photo, your hand tracing over your elbow beneath the fabric where the scar from the stitches after the fall from said bike still remained. 

“My love, please say something, I might be sick if you don't"

“I love them Cass, I mean you might want to try to draw a few objects for the portfolio as well as portraits but still, wow” you laughed, pulling the photo down from the wall, the bluetac taking some paint with it.

“This was a great day, trip to the ED aside...you should draw this”

“I don't know YNN, I've never done a self portrait and-”

“-Then I'll draw you and you can draw me? Please?” He couldn't say no to you, rolling his eyes before searching for materials.

“Are you sure you have paper?” You teased as he pushed the hoards of drawings back into their cage. 

“Shut up” he laughed in reply, retrieving a large fresh drawing pad of paper and pencils.

-

The two of you hovered over the shared piece of A2 paper sprawled across the width of the dining table, both quickly learning to draw around one another with impressive fluidity. Cassian stood behind you, one arm to support himself on one side of you, the other sketching alongside your hand. By 2 am the joint eclectic masterpiece of mixed personal styles was coming to fruition, both of you happy to spend the time together in the comfortable homily silence neither of you could find with anyone else other than one another.  

“Why don’t you draw more, my love?” the first time either of you had spoken since starting, his warm words sending electric shivers down the back of your neck.

“I don't really know, I guess I stopped liking the solitary aspect of it...I much prefer this” he agreed and you both continued at the masterpiece until it finally felt as whole as you made one another feel. You both stood back to admire the medley of lines, the drawing was not as perfect or susynced as if one artist had done it but it was yours and that made up for any mismatches in theme. 

“It’s perfect”

“Just like one of the artists who made it” he beamed down to you as you folded yourself into his embrace, a tender kiss landing on the top of your head. 

“Art school isn’t ready for a talent like you” You reached to kiss him gently. 

“When I’m a famous artist, I’ll be worthy enough to meet your family” You groaned into his chest before pulling back again.

“Cass, you’re worthy of all of me now but they are not worthy of you. Once I’ve aged into the trust my parents left me they’re going to be so far gone from my world it won’t matter their opinion on anything in my life”

“So their opinion matters in your life now?” you groan again before laughing at his grinning face. 

“If I’m lucky once they find out you’re a hoarder that’ll kill them off” You smirked down to the remaining few paper stragglers on the floor. Your eyes landed back on the masterpiece you had both created together. 

“To spend a lifetime trying to be worthy of you my love would be a lifetime well spent” 

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Whatcha think?

[justwritedreams]

Welcome to the Kingdom | Jeno

Chapter Eleven: We’re not ordinary bride and groom

Prince Jeno x Princess Reader, enemies to lovers au!, royalty au!

Word count: 3073 Genre: slow burn, suggestive Author: maari Warnings: There's a VERY suggestive scene like, jeno gets hard but nothing really happens because you know how I like cliffhangers. Note: I really needed to post this chapter even though it was short! Please remind me if I forgot anyone on the taglist I'm doing this constantly, sorry! Summary: What not ordinary bride and groom do in the night before their wedding?

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⪢ NCT Masterlist

Taglist: @floweronacloud, @cookydream, @travelleratheart101​, @ilvaussie​, @tyongf-sunflower99​, @mings-cafe,  @n0hyuck, @waltermitty97, @jihoonismydad, @madaboutjunmyeon, @actually-vl , @neomooniez, @pvppyhao, @ikayyyyyy (can’t tag you honey 😞), @everloving-avenue, @moonchele,

Y/N stared at herself in the mirror with a mix of emotions. The semi-angelic figure reflected in the mirror didn't even look like her and she wasn't even ready, but that didn't stop the mother from sniffling in the corner of the room.

"You’re so beautiful!" The princess smiled and turned to face her mother. “Zuhair did a great job.”

“You said the same about the reception dress.”

“But it’s the truth.” her mother approached her, placing a few strands of her daughter's hair tied behind her ear so she could admire the front of the dress. “Although I liked the ceremony dress a little more.”

Y/N smiled, sharing the same opinion.

If she wasn't forced to wear two dresses to the wedding, she would wear the same one from the ceremony to the wedding reception.

After long visits from Zuhair Murad and endless hours of conversation, finally the princess's wedding dresses were there with her with all the adjustments made and ready to be worn the next day. Exactly the way she wanted.

She couldn't contain the hint of anxiety that had been settling in her stomach since the beginning of the week, although she managed to hide her facial expression, she couldn't say the same about her sweaty hands.

She is getting married tomorrow.

That alone was reason to be nervous.

But the whole context of the wedding and what it meant for her future made her even more anxious. Marriage was the symbol of her coming of age, getting closer and closer to the crown destined for her.

And well, her alliance with Jeno made her a little nervous too. All other attempts to bring the two kingdoms closer together had already failed, she didn’t want the marriage to trigger any retaliation.

She wanted it to work, for everyone's good.

“Now, you're going to take off that dress and go to the jacuzzi on the terrace.” the mother said, turning her daughter around to undo the buttons on her dress. “While I’ll take your dresses to my closet.”

Y/N frowned.

“Why for yours and not mine?”

The queen undid the buttons and helped her daughter carefully take off her dress.

“And we run the risk of Jeno coming into your room and seeing the dresses?” the queen raised her eyebrow, taking the dress to the bed where the bag was to store it.

The princess laughed.

“You don’t need to insinuate anything, you know this marriage is just a political alliance.” she recalled, defensively.

“I didn’t insinuate anything.” the queen turned to face her daughter who felt her jaw give way. “I just wanted to say there are some traditions I want to keep.”

Y/N swallowed hard and scratched the back of her head, while trying to defend herself from something her mother hadn't even said, she gave more signs than she should have.

"Why?"

The queen smiled.

“You’ll know right away.” she assured and the princess agreed.

The mother went to the door, where she called the maids to take the two dresses that were lying on the princess's bed.

“Remember to sleep well, you need to be relaxed.”

Y/N nodded.

She had been hearing this for a long time as she was preparing for the wedding, from the makeup artist, to the hairdresser, even Nana.

It was one of the reasons she chose to stay at the castle the night before the wedding, firstly because she couldn't take the risk after all they had caught the henchmen from the last attack on the kingdom but still hadn't been able to find the mastermind, and secondly she needed a little of peace and quiet on the last single night of her life.

Jeno, incredible as it seemed, understood the situation and still decided to do the same, denying all bachelor party invitations from his brothers and friends in his kingdom.

The princess found it strange, she imagined he was going to do something with the new maids who had already been selected, but so far she hadn't seen or heard anything.

She didn't know if she really believed what he said that he would only kiss her and no one else.

That was also why the queen was there at that time in the princess's room, she was so busy with the selections and other royal matters, she was only in the first conversation with Zuhair, who barely had time to see her daughter in her wedding dresses.

Y/N took the opportunity, in addition to relieving the anxiety of putting on her dresses one last time before preparing for the wedding, to get her mother's opinion.

"Goodnight my love." the queen spoke right after the maids picked up the dresses and Y/N smiled.

"Good night, mom."

The princess saw her mother close the door with a soft noise and took a deep breath, feeling her heart accelerate and turned to face her image in the mirror once again.

She was wearing a transparent white nightgown, lace details on the short sleeve, the nightgown didn't even reach halfway up the princess's thighs but she liked the light fabric, it gave her an air of freedom that she was looking for that night. Her hair was tied up in a high, messy bun.

But what she saw went beyond her appearance, she saw more than pure anxiety for the next day, she also saw hope and determination. She was no longer that teenager obsessed with becoming the perfect princess, she was about to take another step that brought her closer and closer to becoming the queen, to being the ruler that was born to be.

It seemed that only now had she realized that she had become a real adult and would have to act like one.

She took a deep breath and took a step towards the closet, ready to change her clothes and go to the jacuzzi as her mother had suggested, when she heard a firm knock on the door and snorted, throwing her head back lazily.

Believing that it was just one of the maids, she didn't even bother wearing her robe, after all, all the maids had already seen her in those outfits due to the dress fittings. She had nothing to be ashamed of.

However, when she opened the door, in addition to feeling her entire face burn with embarrassment, her jaw also dropped.

Because it wasn't one of the maids, but Jeno.

Dressed in a black shirt and gray sweatpants, with his hand behind his neck, showing his biceps.

“Wow, if I had known I would get this reception, I would have come sooner.” he smiled mischievously, analyzing the princess from head to toe.

Y/N rolled her eyes and hid behind the door, covering her exposed cleavage with the arm that wasn't holding the door. She felt completely naked in front of Jeno, as his dark eyes analyzed her as if she were… an ice cream in the middle of the desert.

"What do you want?" she asked, trying hard to keep her voice from sounding so weak.

“I came to check on you.” He shrugged, putting his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt and the princess's eyes followed the movement, stopping at his hip, which seemed a little more... Wait a minute, Jeno wasn't wearing any underwear? “Y/N?”

"Huh?" She raised her eyes back to his face, which was smiling sideways. "What did you say?"

"Are you okay?" she raised her eyebrow at the question. “Last night as a single. Do you have plans?”

She laughed, half embarrassed and disbelieving at the same time for having seen what she shouldn't have.

“Actually, yes I do, and you’re slowing me down.” She made to close the door in his face but Jeno placed his hand on the wood before that happened.

“Are you going to get away, princess?” he teased.

She smiled evilly.

"And if I do?"

He acted disinterested.

“I could come along.”

She laughed quietly.

“Have you ever seen the bride and groom attend the same bachelor party?” she questioned and he shook his head.

“It’s just that we’re not ordinary bride and groom.” he remembered and she stared at Jeno to try to understand what he meant between the lines.

“Do you want me to invite you?” she asked, shocked. “Do you want to spend your last single night with me?”

Jeno took his hand off the door and leaned his shoulder in place, looking unassuming.

“Would it be that bad?”

Y/N crossed her arms, her figure still behind the door and she considered the request.

Bad? No. She just didn't know what to expect from Jeno.

But a part of her even liked the idea, Jeno hadn't thought of that for free, he was up to something.

And she was starting to do the same thing.

“Okay, Jeno.” She smiled slightly, to hide the naughty idea that crossed her mind. “Do you know how to get to the castle terrace?”

He shook his head.

“Your castle is a little bigger than mine, I haven’t memorized the map yet.”

God, she didn't believe she would do that.

“Okay, then follow me.” she said, feeling her heart speed up the moment she came out from behind the door to get her robe next to the bed because Jeno's eyes observed her in a far from discreet way.

She felt his gaze burn on her bare thighs and especially on her ass covered in fabric so transparent that it was obvious he would look, and that was exactly what she wanted.

Y/N put on the robe but didn't tie it and turned around, seeing Jeno's lips pressed together as he stared at her intensely. The princess didn't say anything and left the room, closing the door behind her, with Jeno beside her.

They walked to the terrace in silence, Jeno seemed tense and Y/N glanced at his face from time to time, she led him to the furthest part of the terrace, entering an area completely different from the rest of the castle.

Y/N walked to the jacuzzi and tested the water temperature with the palm of her hand while Jeno stood a little further back observing the room. It was more rustic, divided by windows that were covered by medium trees and wood, further to the side it was possible to see a corner sofa very close to the large smooth window with a space for a fire pit right in the center, also full of green, with flowers and a tree that passed the ceiling. The yellow lighting made the room much more cozy.

"Wow!" was all he said. “I didn’t know you had this here.”

“It was my idea but it was my mother who carried it out. It reminds me a lot of a chalet we have in the north of the kingdom.”

Jeno looked surprised and the princess laughed softly.

“I didn’t know you had a way with these things.”

She shrugged.

“I like rustic things.” she admitted and saw Jeno looking at her curiously.

"Oh, really?" he seemed very interested. "What kind?"

She smiled and took her hands to slowly take off her robe, making Jeno pay attention to her.

“You’ll have plenty of time to find out.” she replied, letting the robe fall to the floor and she shivered as Jeno's eyes looked her up and down again.

Only this time she let him admire her for a long time. Jeno became serious, his eyes clearly screamed desire and the princess couldn't deny that she liked that, the way he looked at her made her feel powerful and confident, enough to enter the jacuzzi the way she was, fully aware that the transparent nightgown would be even more transparent, because that's actually what she wanted.

When she sat down, she let out a low moan and looked at Jeno with an expression of false innocence.

“Aren’t you going in?” she asked quietly and Jeno laughed, unbeliever.

That would be a night of surprises then.

He just nodded and in one quick movement pulled off the black shirt he was wearing, Y/N's little smile quickly faded and she swallowed hard as she stared at his bare torso.

The other opportunities she had, Jeno was dressed, there was always something that prevented her from fully seeing his torso, but not this time. She could see every bit of exposed skin and it looked like Jeno had really been working out a lot because he looked so much stronger.

And she even tried to look away when Jeno grabbed the hem of the sweatpants he was wearing, but her curiosity got the better of her and she just watched him, exactly as he had done to her. He was wearing black underwear, different from what she had imagined, so she noticed that the bulge on his hip was slightly awake.

Oh God…

She felt the danger in the air but also the excitement and it wasn't something she wanted to stop, because that little game of seduction was too good for both sides.

Jeno entered the jacuzzi, facing the princess, and sat down as he murmured softly when the hot water came into contact with his skin. He stretched his arms to rest on the edge and smiled mischievously at her who blinked a few times before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

She was wet. And it wasn't even because of the jacuzzi.

What had she done?

In fact, she didn't even know why she had done it. She just followed her instincts, but she was waking up a monster that she didn't even know if she could handle.

The image of Jeno dressed only in his underwear would hardly leave her mind.

Y/N couldn't even stay lost in her own paranoia for long and felt the water in the jacuzzi moving beyond what it should have, when she opened her eyes she saw that Jeno was moving to stand in front of her with his arms on either side of her.

She lost her voice and just stared into his dark eyes closely.

“I know what you're doing.” he whispered and brought his face closer until he was millimeters away from touching her. “It was creative, I confess.” the princess's eyes fell when she felt his breathing so close to hers. “But I won’t kiss you.”

Y/N opened her eyes in shock.

"What?" the voice sounded slightly disappointed and Jeno smirked.

“Am I going to have to remind you of what I told you a while ago?” he asked and she opened her mouth to respond but no sound came out as Jeno moved his face to put his lips on her neck, Y/N tried to grab anything inside the jacuzzi that would make her legs regain strength.

Okay, she wasn't expecting that.

Much less that his lips were so warm against her skin. Her heart was beating so fast she didn't know if he could hear it.

“Jeno…” her voice was so weak that she didn’t even blame Jeno for laughing.

"Do you remember?" Jeno's voice vibrated against Y/N's skin and she rolled her eyes before closing them completely. “When you kissed my brother, what did I tell you?”

He didn't make Y/N's life easier and leaned his body as close as he could while he remained kneeling in front of her, involuntarily Y/N opened her legs so that he was between them. “I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already giving in.” He gave Y/N a light bite on the neck that she couldn't control and brought her hands to his back. “Y/N, answer me!”

"What?" she tried to bring back the strength in her voice but it was impossible, not when Jeno started to bring his hips closer to hers.

“Do you remember, yes or no?” he moved his mouth to her ear, where he blew softly, sending goosebumps through her body.

Remembering? Yes she remembered, the problem was that she couldn't speak because of the heat she was feeling rising more and more and stopping in her belly.

"Yes." she swallowed the urge to moan when she felt him next to her body.

God, Jeno was torturing her and he was just leaning against her, he wasn't even rubbing his body against hers but he was standing exactly where she wanted him.

“Then speak.” he ordered and she dug her nails into his back.

“I’m going to have to beg.” she replied, quietly.

Jeno turned his face away, a sideways smile on his face as he watched the princess's desperate expression up close.

“See, you just need a stimulus to remember.” he teased.

“If you think I’m going to-” Jeno moved his hips against hers and the moan came out a little choked.

The temperature of the water felt much warmer and Y/N felt how hard he was, she had to close her eyes tightly to keep from giving in any more than she already had. She was losing her mind!

“You will, not today, but you will.” he promised and she opened her eyes, raising her eyebrow.

“What makes you so sure?”

Jeno took a hand to the princess's face and lifted it, making her look into his eyes.

She saw nothing but desire, pure and carnal.

“The fact that you tried to seduce me.” he caress her cheek gently. “Trust me, it worked, you look really hot and you don’t know how difficult it is for me to control myself now seeing your body like that.” she had an idea thanks to his hips pressed against hers. “But I won’t kiss you until you give in completely.”

Y/N swallowed hard. She wanted to but something stopped her, maybe her pride.

And then, all that heat and fire that surrounded the two quickly ended when Jeno stood up. Y/N bit her lip at the image of him standing in front of her, wet and hard. She knew he noticed the way she looked at him but he simply walked away, leaving the jacuzzi.

Y/N's uneven breathing seemed more evident now that she had her personal space back, but her eyes searched for Jeno.

And he was there, waiting for her with a confident smile.

“Don’t worry, this time it wasn’t a dream.”

[nebbyy]

Luke Castellan x Child of Apollo!reader - Last date

A/N: guys I’ve still got a few pics that are coming out in this weekend, after those are out I’ll probably create a first masterlist!! Also, there are two series that are going to start in the near future, one for king Baldwin and another one for Countess Nadia so if you’re interested stay tuned!

P.S.: this time I don't know where the paining is from, so if you know whose artist is this from please tell me, I'd really appreciate the help☺️

Warning: angst, mentions of betrayal, SPOILERS for the PJO story (whether it’s books, series or movies). Oh and reader is described as female

I think Luke would’ve been restless for weeks trying to figure out what to say to you when the time would’ve come for him to reveal his secret alliance with Kronos, what words would be best fit to make the idea sound more appealing, to increase the chances of you joining him against the Olympians

But as much as he pondered his words, as much as he tried to convince himself that in the end you’d choose him, there was this feeling he had that you wouldn’t follow him this time. And that made him spiral even further, made him try to push down the dooming feeling and focus instead on how to sound even more convincing, how to just get him to listen to him… or more precisely, listen to Kronos

But deep down, he knew that his choices were gonna make him lose you

Although at some point Luke finally seemed to realize that he got so lost in his own thoughts that he started neglecting you. Well, he didn’t really realize it on his own, it was Connor who made him snap back to reality with his dumb jokes

“Hey Luke you keep ignoring your girl and I’m just gonna steal her away. Bet you wouldn’t even notice huh.” Yeah he got a few slaps on the back of his neck for that

But Connor’s harmless words were not so wrong. He didn’t even realize how long it’s been since he even talked to you properly other than kissing you good morning and goodnight

He didn’t even realize how close the end of summer was getting, which, if he didn’t succeed, might’ve been the last months the two of you would spend together

After a little pause to just panic and frantically walk around the Hermes’ cabin trying to make out what to do, he got an idea

You’ve always love theaters, not only to watch the plays, but also to bask in the atmosphere of it all

And he remembered that when he stumbled upon an abandoned theater in a town not too far from Camp

He knew right then and there that he was gonna take you there that night, so that you could forgive him for his absence and he could forget about the rest on the world and focus on you. Nothing else but you

It didn’t take long for him to steal find a necklace that he knew you would’ve loved to wear, a little trinket that would make him be always near to your heart, even when he wouldn’t have been by your side anymore

He left it in a nice little box on your pillow, along with a little note…

I’m sorry I disappeared, I’ll make it up to you I swear. Meet me at the forest tonight I’m taking you to a place

Your mild disappointment in Luke’s absence quickly morphed into curiosity as you held the note in you hand, holding the necklace close to your heart as you tried to fight back the smile at the thought of his mysterious surprise 

Once you reached your rendezvous, he was already there, impatiently waiting for you, holding his hand out to you with an apologetic smile

The walk to the theater, which you still didn’t know was your last stop, was about two hours long, and you mostly spend that time walking silently hand in hand, exchanging very few words

Silence wasn’t anything new between you two, it was actually quite common for you to spend some silent, quality time in each other’s company, with no sound but the world around you

But this time felt different, you could feel that his silence had ulterior motives other than the comfort of quietness

You asked him about it, and he brushed it off saying that his counselor duties have worn him out lately. It was the biggest lie he could’ve told you, but you didn’t question the truth of his words

Because you’d trusted him completely since day one

It broke his heart even further to see how blindly you believed his excuses, so oblivious of the true reason behind his weird behavior. It made him wonder, how broken will you be when you’ll find out the truth

For a moment though, even if brief, all his sorrows disappeared when you finally reached the grandiose abandoned theater, whose splendor still made it stand out despite years of neglect, and your eyes lit up like two new stars to be added to the night sky

You basically rushed him in at that point, earning a laugh from him as he followed you inside

Once you were right before the stage, he swiftly got on top of it before turning around and charmingly offering you his hand to help you up as well

He looked at you for a second, almost entering in a trance as he got lost in the sight of you. But once you called him out, he sheepishly laughed before moving to grab his phone in his pocket, putting some music on before placing it on the ground and turning once again towards you

He knelt before you dramatically, speaking with a mockingly resounding tone, "My lady, would you do me the immense honor of granting me this dance?" You just laughed and nodded

You both danced together, slowly swaying around the stage while holding each other close

You noticed that, as he smiled fondly at you, his smile didn’t really reach his eyes

You wanted to believe what he’d told you, you really did. But there was this gut feeling in you that told you that there was something else going on

“You sure everything’s fine? You don’t look like you’re just tired babe..”, “No no I’m fine, I swear it! I just… I need to be with only you right now.”

You spent so much time there together, that in the end it would’ve been too tiring to go back to Camp straight away, so you opted to spend the rest of the night there

Well, more than opting to it was Luke who begged you to spend the night there with him, forget the rest, you’re both old enough to not have to respond to any of your godly parents

Thinking back to that day, you wonder if you should’ve gotten worried at his bitter words against the gods, instead of simply taking it as his natural aversion to the Olympians

You fell asleep first, lying on the dusty, hard pavement, while Luke stroked your cheek lovingly, staring at your body with a look that he’d spared you the sight of

His heart was about to shatter into a million pieces, all because he knew that this might’ve been his last time spending the night with you, being this close to you

In less than a week, Percy and Annabeth were coming back to Camp, and if they’d succeeded than it wouldn’t take much for them to find out the truth about the theft of Zeus’ lighting 

And as much as he wanted to believe his own delusions that you were going to stay by his side through the whole things, he knew that would never be

And he tried, he really tried so hard to keep in his true emotions for the whole evening, but he couldn’t take him anymore when he saw the necklace he’d gifted you just hours before around your neck

And the promise ring he’d given you on your first anniversary

And the little heart he drew on your arm the day before to annoy you

All little things that brought back the memories of almost four years he’d been with you. All memories of something that will soon end

It makes him wonder if you’ll keep all his little gifts, or if you’ll burn and rip and break everything that reminded you of him

He barely registered the tears that fell from his eyes as he held on to you for dear life as if you’d disappear if he didn’t hold you firmly enough

His cries became more intense as time passed, but he remained careful not to be loud enough to wake you up from your slumber. It was a mixture of unintelligible declarations of love and apologies, that he repeated like a prayer

Because in the end, he was indeed praying

Praying for you to see the reasoning behind his actions, for you to realize that he was in the right and that you had to follow him in this revolution 

And if you wouldn’t grant him this wish, then at least he prayed you’d still harbor the same love that you felt for him for all these years, that you will someday be able to forgive him, leave a place for him into your heart

[thecrayonindisguise]

Chapter 3: Shared Passions || Bonds and Barriers

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Original Female Character

Masterpost || << prev || next >>

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: no particular warnings just smoking I guess?

Authors Note: Hey people! Another chapter is hereee. soooo this one might seem rather boring but it's kind of an interlude, we are preparing for something...or maybe not :) enjoy!

Dearest readers,  

It seems that this season has brought no shortage of breathtaking gowns, whispered alliances, and of course, the ever-favored spectacle of the ballroom floor. As we draw ever closer to the heart of the season, our nights are filled with the whirl of silks and the flash of diamonds, not to mention the occasional daring dress that leaves even the most seasoned members of the ton utterly speechless.

The Medici sisters, who graced last night’s ball with attire that was, how shall we say, risqué even by the loosest of standards, left more than a few tongues wagging with their exposed backs and scandalous fashion choices. Is this newfound boldness an expression of Italian flair, or something more calculated? Only time will tell.

Yet, while the ballrooms remain our primary playground, the ton is abuzz with anticipation for an event of a different nature. The forthcoming art exhibition at the Royal Academy promises to be a highlight of the season, featuring some of the most esteemed artists from home and abroad. This event, dear readers, is not one to be missed. Who among us will make their mark amidst the canvases and sculptures? And who will find themselves the subject of a portrait more scandalous than celebrated?

And before I sign off, a word on the rumored flirtations between certain gentlemen and our ladies of the hour. Lord Ducker and Miss Teresa Medici have been seen in close conversation during the latest soirees, prompting all to wonder what alliance may be forming between those two families. As for Miss Caterina Medici and a certain Mr. Bridgerton... one must only look at their shared glances to suspect that a story far more thrilling is unfolding behind the scenes.

Until the next waltz or whispered word,  

Lady Whistledown

─────────

Royal Academy’s art exhibition had drawn quite a crowd. The grand hall, filled with the aristocracy’s finest, buzzed with chatter as guests admired the paintings and sculptures meticulously arranged around the room. Soft candlelight flickered against the canvases, casting a warm glow that illuminated the delicate strokes of oil paint and marble figures that dotted the space.

As guests moved gracefully from one piece to another, their conversations intermingled in a soft hum, punctuated by occasional laughter and the clinking of crystal glasses filled with fine champagne. Each painting, framed in ornate gold leaf, seemed to come alive under the soft glow of the sunlight coming from the crystal roof.

The paintings themselves were a feast for the eyes, each canvas revealing meticulous detail and vibrant hues that captured the imagination. Landscapes teeming with life, portraits exuding the essence of their subjects, and abstract works that challenged the very nature of perception adorned the walls, inviting whispered critiques and thoughtful discussions among the guests. 

In one corner, Caterina Medici was standing in front of a large painting, one that depicted a bustling square of her beloved hometown, Lucca. Her eyes traced the familiar lines of the city she once called home, and a hint of melancholy played at the corners of her mouth. She reached up, almost instinctively, to brush a strand of hair behind her ear as she studied the artist’s interpretation of her beloved Italy.

Just then, she sensed someone step up beside her. Without looking, she already knew who it was.

“I have to assume you know something about art,” Caterina remarked, her voice casual, though her eyes remained fixed on the painting.

Benedict Bridgerton, standing a little too close for propriety, glanced down at her, his expression mildly amused. “What led you to believe that?” he asked, his tone playful.

“Call it intuition,” she replied smoothly, finally turning her head slightly to meet his gaze, her lips curving into a teasing smile.

Benedict chuckled, his eyes lighting up at her wit. “Intuition, you say? Quite the powerful tool.” His tone was laced with amusement as he tucked his hands behind his back, tilting his head to study the painting she had been so intently observing. “Lucca, isn’t it?”

Caterina nodded, her expression softening. “Yes, the main square. It’s…a bit idealized, though. The artist has taken liberties with the perspective.”

Benedict arched an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “And here I thought I was the one with an eye for detail.”

She laughed softly. “Well, when you’ve walked those streets as often as I have, the inaccuracies become rather glaring. The buildings here,” she gestured to the left side of the painting, “should be shorter. And the lighting is too harsh. Lucca’s light is warmer, especially in the late afternoon.”

Benedict nodded thoughtfully, clearly enjoying their exchange. “So, a critic as well as a…painter?”

“A critic only when necessary,” Caterina replied with a grin, casting him a sidelong glance. “And you, Mr. Bridgerton? I imagine you must have some talent hidden away, judging by the way you’ve been scrutinizing this art.”

Benedict chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “Perhaps. Though, unlike you, my talents lean toward sketching rather than formal critique. Still, I’d say I have a fair understanding of what makes good art.”

Caterina raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Then tell me, what do you think of this piece?” She gestured toward a nearby statue, a towering figure of a man, carved in white marble, his face contorted in an exaggerated expression of sorrow.

Benedict’s mouth twitched. “Well,” he began, trying and failing to suppress his amusement, “if I had to guess, I’d say the artist was either going for tragic despair or… indigestion.”

Caterina stifled a laugh, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Perhaps both. He certainly looks like he’s suffering, doesn’t he?”

They both fell silent for a moment, eyeing the statue as if it might offer an explanation for its exaggerated features. Then, Caterina spoke again, her voice low with mock seriousness. “But I do wonder…do you think it’s possible to feel heartbreak and digestive discomfort at the same time?”

Benedict snorted in laughter, his usual air of composure shattered. “Well, I imagine a poor meal could have quite the emotional impact if it were timed badly enough.”

That was all it took, Caterina’s laughter burst forth, rich and unrestrained. 

The sound of it filled the space around them, echoing off the high ceilings of the hall. It was a sound so pure, so joyful, that it drew the attention of nearly everyone in the room. Conversations quieted, heads turned, and eyes were drawn to the pair standing in front of the strange statue, laughing as though they were the only ones in the room.

Benedict, still laughing himself, glanced around at the sudden silence. But when he turned back to Caterina, his amusement only grew. 

Her cheeks were flushed with laughter, her eyes bright and alive in a way that made his heart stutter. It wasn’t just the beauty of her face, though that was undeniable, it was the sound of her laughter, the way it lit up the entire room.

For a moment, everything else faded into the background. The art, the people, the grand hall, it all disappeared as Benedict realized, with a startling clarity, that her happiness had become inseparable from his own. Her laughter echoed in his ears like the sweetest symphony, and at that moment, it hit him: he was falling for her.

Caterina, catching her breath, finally noticed the room’s sudden quiet and glanced around, her laughter dying down into a soft chuckle. “Oh dear, we’ve attracted an audience.”

Benedict, still smiling, leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “Let them look. I doubt they’ve ever seen such a beautiful display of joy.”

She blinked, her cheeks warming at his words, though she quickly recovered with her usual wit. “Careful, Mr. Bridgerton. Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Benedict smiled softly, his voice dropping to a more sincere tone. “Who said I was trying to get anywhere?” 

For the first time that day, Caterina felt her pulse quicken, a spark of something deeper igniting between them. 

They held each other's gaze for a beat longer, the laughter from earlier now replaced with something heavier, more meaningful. But before she could respond, another guest approached

“Miss Medici, what a surprise to find you here among such beauty.”

Both Caterina and Benedict turned to find Lady Danbury approaching, her ever-watchful eyes gleaming as she scanned the room.

“Lady Danbury,” Caterina greeted her, offering a polite smile. “It’s a pleasure to see you.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Lady Danbury responded with a knowing smirk before shifting her gaze to Benedict. “Mr. Bridgerton, always delightful to see you in civilized company.”

Benedict chuckled. “I do try to behave in such fine company, Lady Danbury.”

Before they could exchange further pleasantries, Lady Danbury stepped aside, revealing an older gentleman standing just behind her. He was impeccably dressed, with silver hair and an air of gravitas that made it clear he was someone of importance in the art world.

“Miss Medici, allow me to introduce Mr. Harold Fennimore,” Lady Danbury said with a sharp glance at Caterina. “A renowned art critic and quite the admirer of your late father I heard”

Caterina stiffened almost imperceptibly, though she quickly composed herself, offering the man a polite smile.

“Mr. Fennimore, it’s an honor,” she said, dipping her head slightly.

Fennimore’s eyes gleamed with interest as he stepped forward. “The honor is mine, Miss Medici. Your father was a towering figure in the world of art. I had the pleasure of meeting him once, years ago at his art club in Lucca. A brilliant man with an unparalleled eye for beauty.”

Caterina smiled tightly, but the mention of her father made her heart clench. She could feel the conversation veering into uncomfortable territory.

“He was very passionate about his work,” she said, her tone guarded.

“Passionate indeed,” Fennimore continued, oblivious to her discomfort. “His collection of Renaissance pieces was extraordinary, and the way he nurtured young talent, well, he was nothing short of a patron saint to the art world. It’s a wonder, Miss Medici, that you haven’t taken up the mantle of his legacy.”

Caterina’s smile faltered slightly. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Benedict, who had been quietly observing the tension in her posture, stepped in.

“I’m sure Miss Medici’s contributions to the art world are far more subtle, Mr. Fennimore,” Benedict said smoothly, his tone light but firm. “Not every legacy needs to be lived out in the same way. Sometimes, it’s more about forging your own path, don’t you think?”

Fennimore blinked, caught off guard by Benedict’s interjection. He nodded slowly, clearly unsure how to respond to the sudden shift in the conversation.

“Of course, of course,” Fennimore muttered, glancing between the two of them. “I didn’t mean to impose, Miss Medici. It’s just…well, your father was such a remarkable figure.”

Caterina’s lips curved into a polite smile, but there was a noticeable edge of discomfort in her eyes. “I appreciate your admiration for my father, Mr. Fennimore. His contributions to the art world were indeed significant. But as Mr. Bridgerton said, I’ve chosen a different path for myself.”

Benedict smiled at her, his eyes soft with understanding. He could feel the weight of what she wasn’t saying, that her life had been shaped, even defined, by her father.

Sensing the tension, Lady Danbury’s sharp gaze shifted from Fennimore to Caterina. “Well, Mr. Fennimore, I’m sure you have other guests to charm tonight,” she said, her tone carrying the subtle authority of a dismissal. “We wouldn’t want to keep you from admiring the other pieces on display.”

Fennimore, catching the cue, nodded quickly. “Yes, of course. It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Medici. And you as well, Mr. Bridgerton.”

As Fennimore walked away, Caterina let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She glanced at Benedict, her expression a mixture of gratitude and relief.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice quiet. “I wasn’t quite ready for that conversation.”

Benedict’s gaze softened as he looked at her. “You don’t owe anyone an explanation, Miss Medici.”

His words hung between them, quiet but full of meaning. Caterina looked up at him, her heart warming at the sincerity in his eyes. For the first time in a long while. “Thank you,” she said again, this time more softly.

Benedict gave her a reassuring smile, and together they walked through the rest of the exhibition, the tension easing from her shoulders as they moved past the paintings and sculptures. 

The art around them faded into the background as they continued their quiet conversation, the weight of her father no longer pressing quite as heavily on her mind.

─────────

Oh, dear readers, what a spectacle the Royal Academy’s art exhibition proved to be! The finest members of the ton gathered to admire not only the masterpieces adorning the walls but also the more unexpected interactions happening right under our very noses.

[...]

Of particular interest was a certain Miss Caterina Medici, who seemed far more captivated by a different kind of art, namely, the rakish charm of one Mr. Benedict Bridgerton. The two were spotted laughing together, their closeness impossible to ignore. Could it be that the artist has found his muse? Or perhaps Miss Medici is looking to sketch out a new path in the social scene, one that leads straight to a Bridgerton?

Whatever the case, dear readers, one must wonder: was it the art that drew them together, or something far more compelling? Only time will tell where this canvas will lead.

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown

─────────

The promenade at the Park was a spectacle in itself, a grand parade where the finest of London’s society came to be seen and admired.

The wide paths, bordered by lush greenery and vibrant spring flowers, were crowded with the elite, all dressed in their best. Ladies in delicate gowns of pastel silks strolled arm in arm, their lace parasols raised to protect their fair complexions from the midday sun. Their skirts brushed softly against the gravel as they moved gracefully, heads held high, casting occasional glances at passing gentlemen.

The men, tall and handsome in their tailored coats, engaged in light conversation, tipping their hats in acknowledgment to acquaintances and exchanging knowing smiles with those they had come to impress.

Children played in the background, their laughter carried by the breeze, while carriages lined the paths, their polished wheels reflecting the sunlight. Footmen stood at attention beside their masters' vehicles, ever ready to serve.

Amidst the lively atmosphere, there was the one and only Benedict Bridgerton, who was sitting under the shade of an old oak tree, the warm spring sun filtering through the leaves above. 

His sketchbook rested comfortably on his lap, pencil in hand, as he carefully captured the scene before him. 

Not far off, Caterina Medici and her sister Teresa sat on the grass with a few other ladies, all of them deep in conversation, their soft laughter carried by the breeze.

His focus, however, was entirely on Caterina. The way her hair gleamed in the sunlight, the infectious way she laughed, it all demanded to be put on paper.

A tiny smile tugged at his lips as his pencil danced across the page, outlining her form.

As he worked, completely immersed in the sketch, his gaze shifted between his subject and the paper, until suddenly, he looked up, and…she was gone.

Benedict frowned, scanning the field in confusion. Where did she go? He twisted slightly, eyes searching for any sign of the lady.

Then, out of nowhere, a familiar voice interrupted his thoughts, light and teasing. "Drawing something inappropriate, Mr. Bridgerton?"

Benedict jumped, startled, his hand flying to close the sketchbook as he spun around. 

There stood Caterina, her lips curled into a playful smirk, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Miss Medici! I… I didn’t see you there," he stammered, quickly standing and offering her a small, hurried bow. 

She chuckled, clearly enjoying his flustered state. "No, I can tell," she said with mock seriousness, her gaze flitting toward the closed sketchbook.

"Might I see?" she asked, extending her hand with an expectant raise of her brow as if daring him to refuse.

Benedict’s heart raced. "Oh, no, it's nothing really. Just doodles. I don't think it's worth your time, Miss Medici," he managed to say, though he could already see the resolve in her eyes.

"On the contrary, Mr. Bridgerton," she replied smoothly, still holding her hand out toward him.

"I’ve watched you sketch for quite some time now. Surely, after all that effort, you’ve produced something worth my attention." Her smile widened as she teasingly moved her fingers, beckoning him to hand over the sketchbook. "If it’s truly as unremarkable as you claim, I’ll let you know... and I promise, I’ll be discreet."

Her tone was light, but the challenge in her words was unmistakable. Benedict hesitated, feeling an odd mix of pride and panic. 

Finally, with a resigned sigh, he handed her the sketchbook. "Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you," he said, crossing his arms as if bracing for the worst.

Caterina accepted the sketchbook triumphantly, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. She flipped through the pages, her smile never fading as she saw several quick studies of nature and people, and then, she found it. 

The sketch of her, captured mid-laughter, almost finished. Just a pencil outline, but enough to show her likeness.

Benedict swallowed hard, watching her face for any sign of displeasure. But instead, she smiled a true, wide smile. 

"I have to say, Mr. Bridgerton, it's rather good. I'm genuinely impressed," she said, looking at the drawing with a mixture of admiration and amusement.

Benedict let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. "It’s just a sketch, miss. It doesn’t do justice to your beauty," he admitted, his voice softer now, less guarded.

Caterina raised an eyebrow at that, her lips curling into a smirk. "But it’s a start," she said, teasingly handing the sketchbook back to him. "I’m sincere, Mr. Bridgerton. I truly like your sketches. You have quite the talent."

Benedict, though trying to keep his composure, felt a slight flush rise to his cheeks. "Thank you," he replied, his voice a little quieter than usual. "But coming from you, I suppose I should’ve expected such discerning taste."

Caterina chuckled softly, a hint of mischief in her eyes.  “I’ve seen enough to know talent when I see it, Mr Bridgerton" she quipped, a playful challenge lingering in her words.

Benedict said with a sly grin. "I suspect there’s much more to you than meets the eye, Miss Medici."

She raised a brow, her smirk widening. "Indeed, Mr. Bridgerton. But I suspect you'll have to work much harder to discover the rest."

Before Benedict could think of a reply, they both noticed movement from across the field. His brothers were approaching. 

Caterina gave a small curtsy, her smirk never leaving her face.

"Enjoy the rest of your day, Mr. Bridgerton. I look forward to seeing more of your sketches… perhaps next time, you can capture something even more daring." With that, she turned and made her way back toward her sister and the Langstone girls.

Benedict watched her go, his heart still racing, unsure whether to be relieved or disconcerted by their encounter. Just as she disappeared from sight, he felt a heavy look on his shoulder.

"Something troubling you, brother?" Anthony’s voice boomed, clearly amused.

He followed Benedict’s gaze, eyes narrowing slightly as he spotted Caterina retreating into the distance. 

Benedict quickly shut his sketchbook, shoving it under his arm. "Not troubling, no."

Colin, ever the opportunist, grinned mischievously. "Is that so? You seem awfully flustered. Surely Miss Medici didn’t... unnerve you?"

Benedict scowled, feeling the heat rise to his face again. "She asked about my sketches. Some of them happened to be... about her."

Colin let out a low whistle, thoroughly entertained. "I hope none of them were improper," he teased, earning a playful elbow from Benedict.

Anthony raised a brow, barely suppressing his grin. "Improper sketches? Now that would be quite the scandal"

Benedict groaned, rolling his eyes. "No, nothing of the sort. But she managed to see one of them before I could stop her."

Colin clapped him on the back. "Well, at least she seemed to like it! Who knows, you might have a future as the sketch artist for all the lovely ladies of the ton."

Benedict shot him a withering look, though he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. "Remind me again why I haven’t thrown you into the Thames yet?"

──────��──

The Langstone household was a flurry of activity as the ladies prepared for the umpteenth ball.

Gowns of silk and satin rustled as they bustled about, pinning hair, adjusting ribbons, and perfecting their appearance in front of the tall, gilded mirrors. The scent of lavender and rosewater filled the air, mingling with the soft sound of laughter and hurried conversations.

In stark contrast to the lively scene, Caterina sat alone by the window, a cigarette poised elegantly between her fingers, its thin trail of smoke curling upwards in lazy spirals.

She leaned back in her chair, the cool night air brushing against her bare shoulders as she gazed out into the darkening sky. Her gown shimmered in the fading light, hugging her figure with an effortless grace.

The ball was only an hour away, but instead of fussing with final touches like the others, Caterina seemed lost in thought.

Behind her, Teresa was finishing the final adjustments to her hair, laughing with the Langstone sisters as they debated the importance of matching gloves to gowns.

Catching sight of Caterina’s relaxed posture and the cigarette between her fingers, Teresa couldn’t help but tease her sister.

"Smoking again before a ball, Kitty? You're supposed to be preparing for a grand entrance, not lounging like a rebellious poet," Teresa quipped, flashing her twin a playful grin through the mirror.

Caterina, not missing a beat, raised an eyebrow and took a slow, deliberate drag from her cigarette before exhaling. "Darling, you of all people should know that a little rebellion suits me," she replied smoothly, a wry smile playing at her lips. "Besides, it calms the nerves. I don’t need to spend an hour fussing over my hair to be the diamond of the season."

Teresa laughed, shaking her head. "Calms the nerves or not, it’s a miracle Mama never found out you sneak these in at every opportunity. You know it’s dreadfully improper."

Caterina blew out another puff of smoke, watching it swirl in the air. "Impropiety is just a matter of perspective. In Italy, no one cared."

"Yes, but we’re not in Italy anymore," Teresa replied, her eyes twinkling. "Try not to scandalize everyone too much this evening. We are meant to secure good matches, not frighten them off."

"Let’s just hope the gentlemen have stronger constitutions than you give them credit for," Caterina mused, her smile growing.

She crushed the cigarette in a small silver tray by the window and stood, smoothing her gown. 

As the sisters busied themselves with last-minute touches, Caterina walked over to the vanity, her movements graceful but unhurried.

She picked up a delicate lace garter, rolling it down her leg with practiced ease.

From a small, embroidered box, she retrieved a slim pack of cigarettes, tucking it discreetly into her garter with a practiced flick of her wrist.

“Just in case the ball gets boring,” Caterina said with a mischievous grin, catching Teresa’s eye.

Teresa raised her hands in mock surrender, chuckling. “You know, you’re incorrigible.”

"Maybe," Caterina responded, glancing at her reflection in the mirror, satisfied with her look. "But what fun is life without a little scandal?"

With that, she grabbed her fan and draped a silver shawl over her shoulders, ready to face the evening ahead.

Teresa rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile as the sisters gathered their things, the excitement of the evening swirling in the air like the smoke Caterina had left behind.

─────────

The ballroom was as grand as the countless others the sisters had visited throughout the season, adorned with gilded mirrors, glittering chandeliers, and cascading arrangements of flowers that perfumed the air. 

A soft glow bathed the room as candles flickered in their sconces, casting a warm, golden hue over the assembly of lords and ladies twirling gracefully to the familiar strains of the orchestra. 

The endless swirl of pastel-colored gowns, embroidered waistcoats, and polite conversation was an all-too-familiar backdrop by now, one that had long lost its allure.

Caterina stood near the edge of the dance floor, her fan fluttering absently in her hand as she surveyed the scene with disinterest. 

She had donned a beautiful blue gown tonight, it folds shimmering as she moved, but even the elegance of the evening’s attire could not shake the sense of monotony that clung to her. Her lips curved into the same polite smile she had worn at a dozen balls before, but inside, boredom gnawed at her.

The chatter around her felt like a hum, words blending into indistinguishable noise.

Gentlemen and ladies exchanged the same pleasantries, the same empty flattery, as they had at every ball this season.

Even the suitors, eager to charm, seemed to blend together.

Their compliments were repetitive, their offers of dances a distraction she had begun to dread rather than anticipate.

Caterina’s eyes drifted to the dancers, the elegant rise and fall of the waltz doing nothing to stir her.

It was the umpteenth ball, and all of them seemed to blur into one tiresome affair.

She shifted slightly, her gloved fingers fidgeting with the delicate lace at the edge of her fan. 

There had been a time when the prospect of a grand ball, with its promise of romance and intrigue, had excited her. But now, as the weeks dragged on, it felt like an endless cycle of faces, gowns, and meaningless conversation. 

Every evening ended as predictably as it began.

She stifled a sigh, glancing around the room in search of something, anything, that might break the dullness. 

A couple nearby giggled quietly, their flirtation almost painfully predictable. 

Across the room, Teresa was engaged in animated conversation, her expression lively as she entertained a group of admirers. 

Caterina felt a pang of envy at her sister’s ability to find joy in the evening’s tedious repetition as if the ball offered endless excitement rather than an exhausting series of predictable encounters.

Teresa’s laughter rang out, bright and genuine, while Caterina’s own felt distant, forced.

She sighed softly, her fingers tightening more around her fan. 

Perhaps this season had drained her more than she cared to admit, or perhaps she was simply tired of the endless charade. Either way, the night dragged on like so many others before it, until a sharp burst of laughter caught her attention.

Caterina’s gaze flicked toward the sound, and her eyes immediately locked onto a small group gathered near the refreshment table. 

Among them was Miss Cressida Cowper, her voice unmistakably sharp and biting, surrounded by her usual sycophants. 

At the center of their attention stood Miss Penelope Featherington, her cheeks flushed, her expression uncomfortable.

Caterina’s boredom vanished in an instant, replaced by a familiar sense of irritation at Cressida’s cruel games. 

Without hesitation, she made her way toward the group, her sharp gaze cutting through the crowd like a blade.

If Cressida thought she could mock Penelope without consequence, she was sorely mistaken.

As Caterina approached the group, her sharp gaze immediately fell on Cressida and her entourage, their giggles filling the air as they clustered around Penelope.

"Good evening, ladies," Caterina said, her voice cutting through the laughter like a blade. She raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk on her lips. "Something funny happening here?"

The girls froze at the sound of her voice, their laughter dying out as they turned to face her.

They bowed, but the tension was palpable. Cressida, ever the leader of her clique, forced a smile, though there was something brittle about it.

"Miss Medici," Cressida replied, her tone dripping with false sweetness. "We were just discussing Penelope’s dress, or should I say the wallflower dress."

The girls around her giggled again, though much more hesitantly now. Penelope’s cheeks flushed crimson, her eyes darting to the floor. 

But Caterina’s expression remained icy, her fan snapping shut in her hand as she stepped forward.

"I’m sorry," Caterina said coolly, tilting her head as if in thought. "I must have forgotten. What was your name again? Miss...?"

Cressida blinked, momentarily thrown by the question. "Miss Cressida Cowper," she answered, clearly affronted.

"Oh, of course!" Caterina exclaimed with feigned delight. "Like the loose woman Shakespeare describes in one of his comedies. What a comical thing, isn’t it?" Her smile widened slightly, the mockery dripping from her words. "I do hope it doesn’t have anything to do with reality. How’s the season going, Miss Cowper? I heard that this is already your second season."

The air grew thick with tension.

Cressida’s face turned pale, her mouth opening slightly in shock at Caterina’s bold insult.

The two girls flanking her exchanged nervous glances, unsure of what to do or say.

Caterina’s expression was serene as if she had merely commented on the weather.

Unable to find a retort, Cressida stood frozen, her face reddening with embarrassment.

Caterina’s smirk deepened as she turned toward Penelope, placing a hand on her arm.

"Come, Miss Penelope," Caterina said with an air of casual dismissal. "There’s no reason to stay with these ladies. They don’t seem quite so funny after all."

As she turned to leave with Penelope, Caterina paused, her voice turning syrupy sweet as she addressed Cressida one last time. "Oh, before we go, I must ask you, Miss Cowper, what is your dress made of? I do hope it isn’t paper, because..." She leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper, "It feels quite like it."

Cressida’s jaw clenched, her face a mixture of humiliation and rage, while the other two girls stood stunned, their eyes wide. 

Caterina gave a slight laugh and, with a graceful flick of her fan, looped her arm through Penelope’s and guided her away from the group.

Penelope, still wide-eyed and processing what had just happened, glanced up at Caterina in awe. "I—I can’t believe you said that."

Caterina let out a soft, amused laugh. "What awful ladies they were, Penelope. Why didn’t you call me sooner? I could have dispatched them much quicker."

Penelope finally smiled, a small glimmer of relief washing over her. "I didn’t want to make a scene..."

"Sometimes, Penelope, making a scene is exactly what one needs to do," Caterina said with a wink. "But don’t worry, I’ll be sure they won’t bother you again tonight."

Penelope smiled, her earlier discomfort melting away as she allowed herself to be whisked away from the scene. With Caterina by her side, she felt lighter, safer, and, for the first time in a long while, less like the wallflower Cressida so cruelly mocked.

─────────

The ballroom was alive with laughter, music, and the soft shuffle of slippers on polished marble.

Teresa, radiant in a light blue gown that shimmered with every movement, stood at the center of a growing group of admirers.

Her eyes sparkled as she engaged in conversation with a dashing young baron, Mr. Whitmore, whose flattering words and eager attention drew the envy of more than a few guests.

But as charming as he was, Teresa’s gaze kept flickering toward the other end of the room, where Lord Edward Ducker stood, watching them with a brooding intensity.

It was no secret that Lord Ducker had taken a keen interest in Teresa, and for good reason. 

Her beauty, wit, and grace had captivated him from the moment they’d met. But tonight, as another eligible suitor vied for her favor, something darker simmered behind his normally composed expression, jealousy.

As the dance set ended, Mr. Whitmore bowed gallantly to Teresa, offering his hand for the next dance.

But before Teresa could respond, Lord Ducker started to step forward, his tall frame cutting through the crowd like a hawk descending on its prey.

As the dance set ended, Mr. Whitmore bowed gallantly to Teresa, his eyes twinkling with admiration. “Miss Medici,” he said, extending his hand with a charming smile, “may I have the honor of this next dance?”

Teresa hesitated, a pleasant blush warming her cheeks. Mr. Whitmore was undoubtedly handsome, and his company had been enjoyable throughout the evening, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

Before she could respond, a familiar figure emerged from the crowd.

Lord Edward Ducker, stepped forward with purpose. His eyes were locked on Teresa, a hint of possessiveness flashing behind his usual calm demeanor. 

“Miss Medici,” Edward’s voice was smooth, but there was an unmistakable edge to it as he spoke. “I hope I’m not interrupting.” His sharp glance at Mr. Whitmore suggested otherwise, though. “But I would be honored if you would do me the favor, with your family, of joining mine at Aubrey Hall this week.”

A ripple of surprise passed through the nearby guests.

Lord Ducker’s invitation was no ordinary request; it carried significant weight in the social circles they inhabited.

Teresa blinked, caught off guard by the suddenness of his proposal.

Her heart raced as Edward’s eyes remained fixed on her, waiting for her reply. 

She felt the heat of the ballroom pressing in around her, but despite the attention, her response came naturally.

Blushing deeply, Teresa offered him a shy but genuine smile. “I would be delighted, Lord Ducker.”

The weight of her acceptance rippled outward, and those nearest began whispering, the significance of the moment not lost on anyone.

It was rare for a gentleman of Lord Ducker’s stature to make such a public invitation without deeper meaning.

Mr. Whitmore, standing awkwardly beside Teresa, cleared his throat and forced a polite smile. “Well, it seems my dance request has been bested,” he said, his tone light, though his eyes flickered with disappointment. “I wish you an enjoyable evening, Miss Medici.” With a courteous bow, he gracefully stepped back, leaving the floor to Edward.

Lord Ducker’s expression softened, his intense demeanor relaxing as he gently took Teresa’s hand. “I look forward to it, Miss Medici,” he said, his voice low, but the sincerity in his words unmistakable.

Just as the tension between them eased, a sudden gasp rippled through the ballroom, drawing the attention of the entire room.

All eyes turned towards the commotion, the music coming to an abrupt halt as the guests strained to see what had caused the disturbance.

Caterina, ever the center of attention when she wished to be, stood near the refreshment table, her hand dramatically covering her mouth in feigned shock.

Mr. Paxton, a pompous gentleman who had spent the evening attempting to woo her with tiresome flattery, now lay sprawled on the floor in an ungraceful heap. His face was a mixture of bewilderment and embarrassment, clearly unprepared for such an undignified moment.

“Mr. Paxton!” Caterina exclaimed, her voice carrying effortlessly across the room, dripping with mock concern. “How is it possible that such a gentleman can fall just standing?”

The onlookers were stunned into silence, torn between shock and amusement at her audacity. Her sarcasm was unmistakable, and her icy glare swept across the room, daring anyone to challenge her.

Caterina gave a theatrical sigh, lifting her gown with the utmost grace. 

In one fluid, deliberate motion, she stepped over Mr. Paxton, her every movement a statement of her confidence and disdain for the foolishness that had preceded the incident.

The room was so silent that even the rustle of her skirts seemed to echo, and only the faint murmurs of astonishment followed her as she swept toward the grand balcony.

Edward turned back to Teresa, amusement flickering in his eyes. “It appears your sister has once again captivated the crowd.”

Teresa bit back a smile, her heart still fluttering from Edward’s invitation. “She does have a talent for making an impression.”

“As do you,” Edward murmured, his voice soft yet firm, his gaze lingering on her with a meaning that sent another flush of warmth to her cheeks.

The ballroom remained abuzz with whispers about both Medici sisters, but as Edward led Teresa away to continue their conversation, it was clear that tonight had marked a turning point for both of them.

─────────

As Caterina made her way to one of the grand balconies, the cool night air greeted her like an old friend, offering a reprieve from the stifling heat of the ballroom.

She stepped outside, the garden sprawling beneath her like a secret world, and leaned against the marble balustrade, her fingers already searching her garter for her hidden pack of cigarettes.

With a flick of her wrist, she lit one and took a slow, calming drag, the glow of the cigarette tip casting a soft light on her face.

“I’ve had enough of men for tonight,” she muttered, previously under her breath, not intending anyone to hear. 

Yet a few nearby guests, including several of the Bridgerton brothers, caught her words. They exchanged wide-eyed glances, clearly taken aback by her boldness. 

Benedict, standing with his brothers, felt an amused grin tug at his lips. 

He had been watching Caterina throughout the evening, captivated by the way she seemed both at ease and above the crowd as if the ball was merely another stage for her to dominate. 

Intrigued by her audacity, he decided to follow her outside.

As he stepped onto the balcony, the contrast between the cool night and the warmth of the ballroom hit him.

The stars above twinkled faintly, casting a pale light over the garden, while Caterina, standing by the railing, seemed illuminated by the soft glow of her cigarette. 

She exhaled slowly, her posture relaxed, as though she hadn’t just caused a commotion inside.

Benedict approached her with a playful smile, his curiosity piqued. “Enough of men, mmh?” he teased, his tone light but laced with interest.

Caterina turned to face him, her eyes rolling with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. “I wish,” she replied, her voice tinged with a playful sigh. “But here you are, Mr. Bridgerton. Always next to me.” 

There was a hint of fondness beneath her mock frustration, and Benedict’s smile widened.

He was well aware of the undercurrent of their exchanges, the playful banter that always seemed to linger between them. 

“What can I say?” Benedict replied, leaning casually against the balustrade beside her. 

“I really enjoy your company, Miss Medici, even if it’s not always reciprocated.” His tone was light, but there was something genuine beneath the humor.

Caterina let out a soft, rich laugh, shaking her head slightly. 

She reached into her garter once more and, with a casual elegance that left Benedict momentarily speechless, offered him a cigarette. 

The gesture was so natural, so effortlessly charming, that Benedict couldn’t help but admire the way she moved.

“Sophisticated,” Benedict remarked with a grin, accepting the cigarette. 

He took a moment to light it, noting how even in the dim light, Caterina seemed to radiate confidence, her presence commanding the space. 

She was, he thought, unlike any other woman he had met.

“You do what you have to,” she replied, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she took another slow drag from her own cigarette.

Benedict watched her, the air between them thick with a playful tension. 

He took a long drag from his cigarette and exhaled slowly, his gaze never leaving hers. “So, Miss Medici,” he began, his voice carrying that same teasing lilt, “what exactly did the poor Mr. Paxton say to find himself sprawled on the floor?”

Caterina’s eyes sparkled with delight, and her laughter, rich and genuine, echoed softly in the night air. “Ah, Mr. Paxton,” she began, shaking her head. “He told me that women are good only for dancing, spending money, and carrying children.”

Benedict’s eyebrows shot up in mock horror, his eyes wide with exaggerated disbelief. “He said that?” he asked, his tone matching her playful energy. “And here I was, thinking Mr. Paxton was a man of great wisdom.”

Caterina smirked, leaning a little closer as if to share a secret. “Well,” she whispered conspiratorially, “he wasn’t standing for very long after that.”

Benedict chuckled, shaking his head in admiration. “You didn’t push him, did you?”

“I’m not going to tell you what I thought,” she teased, her eyes glinting with amusement, “but… well, let’s just say that his comments might’ve influenced his sudden loss of balance. A gentleman like that deserves to be humbled, don’t you think?”

Benedict laughed heartily, his shoulders shaking with mirth. “Miss Medici, you never cease to amaze me,” he said, his voice warm and sincere. 

There was no mockery in his words now, just a genuine admiration for the woman standing before him. “I think you might be the most interesting person I’ve ever met.”

Caterina took another drag from her cigarette, her lips curling into a faint smirk as she regarded him. 

“Interesting?” she mused, exhaling a thin stream of smoke. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“As you should,” Benedict replied, leaning in just slightly, his gaze never wavering from hers. 

The playful banter had shifted into something more charged, an unspoken connection hanging between them. 

“It’s not every day I meet someone who can make an entire ballroom hold its breath… and do it with such style.”

Caterina tilted her head, her eyes searching his for a moment as if trying to gauge the sincerity behind his words. She found it there, unflinching and honest. 

“Well, Mr. Bridgerton,” she said, her tone softer now, “it’s not every day I meet someone who isn’t intimidated by that.”

Benedict’s smile widened, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Intimidated? No. Intrigued? Absolutely.”

For a brief moment, the world around them seemed to fade away, the sounds of the ballroom distant, the night air cool but crackling with energy.

Caterina held his gaze, her smirk softening into something more genuine, more vulnerable. 

“Careful, Mr. Bridgerton,” she said, her voice teasing but with an edge of seriousness, “you might just get more than you bargained for.”

Benedict leaned just a fraction closer, his breath warm against the cool air. “I’m counting on it.”

─────────

Dearest readers, 

what a splendid evening it was at the latest ball! But as you know, it wouldn’t be a proper gathering of the ton without a few spectacles that are sure to have everyone buzzing.

First and foremost, let us address the moment that left every lady swooning and every gentleman straightening their cravats: none other than Lord Edward Ducker’s most public invitation to the charming Miss Teresa Medici to join him at Aubrey Hall. In the midst of a lively crowd of admirers, Lord Ducker swooped in like a hawk claiming his prize. 

Not a soul in the room dared to utter a word as Miss Medici, blushing but composed, accepted his offer with the grace we’ve come to expect from the Medici sisters. 

The murmurs of approval were immediate, and I dare say, the gentlemen may have some stiff competition in the coming days. 

If rumors are to be believed, Lord Ducker’s admiration for Miss Medici is growing by the minute. 

A proposal, perhaps? Time will tell.

Ah, but the evening’s amusements did not end there. 

The ever-elegant Miss Caterina Medici provided us with more than just her striking beauty and wit. When one pompous Mr. Paxton had the misfortune of crossing her path, it wasn’t long before he found himself quite literally knocked off his pedestal, onto the ballroom floor! 

Though many were left speechless, Miss Medici, always poised, could only feign surprise and exaggerated concern.

 Her theatrics were nothing short of delightful, leaving our dear Mr. Paxton sprawled and humiliated. It seems even the most arrogant of men are not immune to a fall from grace when facing Miss Medici’s sharp tongue.

Speaking of sharp tongues, dear readers, it brings me great pleasure to recount the most deliciously satisfying moment of the night. 

The ever-vicious Miss Cressida Cowper, known for her less-than-charming jibes, made the unfortunate mistake of turning her ridicule on our beloved Miss Penelope Featherington. 

But before the laughter could even settle, Miss Caterina Medici swooped in with a line so cutting, that it sent shivers down the spines of everyone within earshot. 

“I’m sorry, I must have forgotten it already… what is your name again? Lady…?” she asked with perfect politeness, before delivering the fatal blow. “Oh, of course! Like the loose woman that Shakespeare describes in one of his comedies.” The stunned silence that followed was, dare I say, almost as satisfying as Miss Medici’s final flourish. 

Leaving no room for a retort, she elegantly escorted Miss Featherington away, declaring that the company of such ladies was hardly worth their time.

My dear readers, it seems the Medici sisters are fast becoming the talk of the season, and with such flair for drama and sharp wit, one can only wonder what spectacle they will gift us with next. Whatever it may be, rest assured, you will read about it here.

Yours truly,  

Lady Whistledown

The morning sunlight filtered softly through the lace curtains of the Langstone drawing room, casting a warm glow over the group gathered around.

The air was thick with the scent of fresh tea and pastries, but the real focus of the morning was the latest edition of Lady Whistledown, which had arrived only moments ago.

Lady Langstone sat at the head of the room, her daughters perched eagerly on the edges of their chairs as Teresa passed the paper to Caterina.

Caterina leaned back against the velvet settee, her eyes scanning the words, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she read the dramatic recount of last night’s ball. 

The mention of Lord Ducker’s public invitation to Teresa elicited a pleased but bashful smile from her sister. 

Teresa blushed deeply, turning her head as the Langstone sisters gushed over her “imminent prospects.”

However, as Caterina’s gaze moved further down the column, her smirk faded, replaced by a subtle narrowing of her eyes.

Mr. Paxton’s unfortunate fall, Cressida Cowper’s humiliation.

The words were sharp and deliciously accurate, but something stirred in Caterina’s mind as she read on. She could still hear her own voice from the night before, echoing in her head. 

But it wasn’t just that. The exact words she had used to humiliate Cressida Cowper had been printed verbatim: “Like the loose woman that Shakespeare describes in one of his comedies.”

She felt a small chill crawl up her spine.

“How does she know exactly what I said?” Caterina muttered, her tone low, but enough to catch Teresa’s attention.

Teresa looked over at her, brow furrowing slightly.

“What was that?” she asked.

Caterina straightened, folding the paper in her lap and shaking her head lightly, as though clearing a thought. “Whistledown,” she said softly, tapping the folded page. 

“She wrote down my exact words to Miss Cowper. Every syllable. How could she have possibly heard that? I was speaking quietly, to only a few people…”

The Langstone sisters, now drawn in by her words, exchanged curious glances. “I’ve often wondered how she knows so much,” said Cynthia, the younger Langstones, her voice full of intrigue. “She writes as if she has ears everywhere.”

Teresa looked thoughtful, casting a wary glance at the paper. “Perhaps someone close by overheard? There were plenty of people milling around…”

Caterina’s mind raced, flipping through her mental notes of the night. 

Only a few were present when she had sparred with Cressida, Penelope, of course, and a handful of other ladies.

She had been careful with her tone, ensuring the conversation stayed between them.

But Lady Whistledown had somehow managed to capture the exchange as if she’d been standing right there, a witness to every cutting word.

“Whoever she is, she must be more than just a casual observer,” Caterina mused aloud, her voice laced with suspicion. 

Caterina leaned forward, her fingers drumming lightly on the folded pages. Her mind cycled through the faces of the previous night. 

The gossip, the whispers, there were so many eyes and ears in the ballroom, but this felt different. It was too precise. Too personal. 

Caterina's eyes flickered with both curiosity and suspicion as she let the paper rest on the side table.

[infamousbrad]

Alex Garland's Civil War is my perfect movie. I'm not sure who else's, though.

There's a thing I've said about lots of art: if you have to read the artist's statement to get the point, the artist's statement is the art. I read multiple interviews with Garland, went in prepared for the movie he was trying to make, and I loved it, a lot. I don't know if I can say that I enjoyed it, because it's super-emotional, especially super-tense. But I'm very very glad I saw it, and if somebody invited me to go with them, I'd probably watch it again, and I may well buy the blu-ray when it comes out. That being said? I'm not sure who else, other than a few weirdos like me and a few academic cinephiles this movie is for.

Remember the movie Pleasantville, if you even saw it? The trailer mislead a lot of people into expecting a jokey comedy about how dumb "Return to Normalcy" era sitcoms were, and nearly everybody who went in with those expectations hated Pleasantville, because what they got was a deep philosophical meditation on how you can't actually solve a social problem without losing your innocence, and loss of innocence, no matter how necessary, hurts. So almost nobody loved Pleasantville but a few people like me, who wanted it injected straight into our veins.

So let me lay this straight out before you buy your ticket to Civil War:

First of all, at no point in Garland's Civil War do they tell you the politics of any of the three sides in the near-future second American Civil War. Nor are you expected to figure them out. The war started four or five years before the first scene of the movie, and none of the people in this movie are still interested in debating why the war. There are three sides, and while there are people who say that the Western Forces are Democrats and the Florida Alliance are Republicans and the Federal Army are Trumpist, they are reading their own prejudices into way too few background clues and ignoring the other background clues that contradict that theory.

I know that every American who sees this movie is watching to find out which army is "on my side," which one they're supposed to be rooting for, and that is not a movie that Alex Garland wanted to make. You are supposed to be rooting for the war to just be over and elections to resume. Because that's what every civilian and every soldier wants, and nearly all the unlawful combatants. And also ...

This is not a war movie. If you want the (somehow, to you anyway) relaxing catharsis of cheering while lots of military hardware gets used? You are going to hate Civil War because this movie is, to borrow an older metaphor, Tomorrowland to your Mad Max: Glory Road. Garland made this movie to shame you particularly if you like war movies. The total amount of combat footage in this movie probably doesn't reach 20 minutes, and our main viewpoint character for the final battle sequence is a traumatized civilian.

One last thing I can say before diving behind a spoiler warning, though: it is an amazing technical movie, this thing should win all the technical Oscars next year. In particular, the principal photography is the best I've ever seen and the way it mixes (and sometimes un-mixes!) the separate audio tracks perfectly manipulates the tension level. And all four lead actors put their whole selves into these parts and held nothing back.

So what is this movie if it's not a political movie or a war movie? I can't tell you that without diving at least partway into spoiler territory, so ...

Alex Garland wants to prove two things in this movie:

Life in a failed state sucks ass. Yes, even if you're nowhere near the combat zone. And ...

War correspondents and combat photographers themselves wonder if what they're doing is making any difference, but they're heroes for trying.

The journalists themselves can't point to a single time what they do prevented or stopped a war, and they very much wonder if they're just adrenaline-addicted glory-hogs. But even not even knowing if what they're doing will ever save a single life, they are absolute fucking heroes. They put themselves at insane risk because this is the only thing that they know how to do and if it has any chance of saving lives, of preventing or stopping war, it has to be tried.

Our main cast are four journalists: an elderly war correspondent, a middle aged war correspondent, a middle aged combat photographer, and a (too) young combat photographer on a mission:

They start in Federally occupied NYC, reporting on anti-regime protests and terrorist attacks. They've heard rumors about the actual war. Right now the front line is a three-way battle for control of Charleston, South Carolina. They've heard that the Westerners and the Floridians are going to fight each other to the death as soon as they push the Federals out of the Carolinas, and then on July 4th, just a week away or so, the likely winners, the Westerners, are nearly certain to seize the capitol. They think the 5 year war is almost over, and are trying to figure out how to cover the end. This is, like, literally the whole of the first two scenes.

The old guy wants to cover the battle of Charleston "for whatever is left of the New York Times" and then retire. The three younger journalists have an even crazier idea: skip the battle of Charleston and use the last remaining highway into/out of DC to outrun the Western Forces and cover the fall of the White House.

So the overwhelming majority of the movie is a several day, many hundred mile road trip in an armored car marked PRESS. This involves driving west to Pittsburgh and then back east to Charleston, to get around the combat zone, which results in the real main part of the movie:

The road trip is intended to show you how much the combination of anarchy, localized paranoia, and fear of looters is driving various levels of savagery far from the war zone, which the reporters and photographers keep stopping to document.

It ends with the race to keep up with the Western forces so they can cover the fall of the White House, which is the only long combat scene in the movie, and it is incredibly intense, and very loud and scary, and nobody except maybe the kid photographer covers themselves in glory.

And every scene of it tells the same didactic message, told in about a dozen different ways: when the war is over, whether or not you were "on the right side" is going to matter a lot less than the horror you lived through, and wartime journalists put themselves through hell to try to prove that to you before it's too late.

[pmamtraveller]

FRANCESCO HAYEZ - THE KISS, 1859

The painting is a depiction of a couple embracing one another while surrounded by a classical architectural setting. It was meant to epitomize the ideals of love, passion, and intensity of emotions for that era.

Hayez created this painting during a period of political turmoil in Italy, where Romantic artists sought to emphasize emotional and nationalistic themes in their works. The painting was commissioned by Alfonso Maria Visconti di Saliceto, a known Italian patriot, and was intended to symbolize the alliance between Italy and France during the Risorgimento, the movement for Italian unification.

The painting is rich in symbolism. The central figures symbolize unity and harmony, whereas the turbulent background can be interpreted as the hard times of Italian unification efforts. Hayez was influenced by Renaissance art, particularly in the composition and chiaroscuro. This influence can be seen in the careful attention to detail and the soft, almost ethereal lighting of the figures.

Despite the political undertones, the focus of the painting is on the intimate, romantic embrace between the two figures, which has made it one of the most famous and iconic Romantic paintings in Italian art.

[bananaofswifts]

Whether she's breaking records or breaking Ticketmaster, Taylor Swift has proven time and again that she's one of the most powerful figures in modern music — and the Eras Tour is a manifestation of that.

By TAYLOR WEATHERBY

But after witnessing it in person, it's clear that Swift is not just delivering the tour of the year — it's the tour of her generation.

Sure, Beyoncé fans can't wait for her tour this summer; Harry Styles is about to embark on the final leg of his highly successful Love On Tour trek; BLACKPINK sold out stadiums around the country too. Yet, it's hard to imagine that any other tour this year will have a cultural impact as big as the Eras Tour — something that's wildly apparent whether or not you were there.

Even before Swift hit the stage for her first night at Nashville's Nissan Stadium on May 5, her influence was felt. Practically every fan of the 70,000 in attendance (a record for the venue — more on that later) was wearing some sort of reference to their favorite Swift era: a beloved lyric, or an iconic performance or music video look. While that's not necessarily a new trend in the Swiftie world, seeing all 10 of her eras represented throughout a stadium-sized crowd was equal parts meaningful and remarkable.

As someone who has been to hundreds of tours and most of Swift's — including the Reputation Tour, which I naively referred to as "the peak of her career" — I didn't think this one would feel much different than a typical stadium show. But even when Swift was just a few songs in of her impressive three-and-a-half hour set, a feeling came over me like I wasn't just watching one of music's greats — I was part of music history.

Below, here are five reasons why the Eras Tour will go down as one of the most iconic of Swift's generation.

It's Treated Like A Holiday

In the week leading up to the shows and over the weekend, Nashville was abundant with special events in Swift's honor. From Taylor-themed trivia nights to pre- and post-show dance parties to wine lists transformed into "eras," practically every place you went was commemorating her return (she last performed in Nashville in 2018).

While it's unclear whether this kind of takeover is happening in every city — after all, she does consider Nashville a hometown, as she said on stage — it's rare to see an artist have such a ripple effect by simply just coming to town.

During her May 5 show, Swift added to the excitement by sharing the highly anticipated news that Speak Now (Taylor's Version) was coming on July 7. Upon the announcement, three of Nashville's monuments — the John Seigenthaler Pedestrian Bridge, the Tennessee State Capitol and the Alliance Bernstein building downtown — were illuminated in purple, the album's color.

It's Breaking Records Left And Right

Though Swift is no stranger to breaking records, she continues to do so with the Eras Tour. After setting the all-time attendance record at Nissan Stadium on night one of her Nashville run, Swift topped herself (something has become accustomed to on the charts as well) with another attendance record on night two.

And despite the controversial ticketing frenzy the tour caused, Swift also broke a Ticketmaster record with more than 2.4 million tickets sold — the most by an artist in a single day — in the presale alone. If Swift announces an international leg of the tour, Pollstar projects that the Eras Tour could surpass $1 billion, which would add yet another first to her ever-growing list.

It's Spawned Parking Lot Parties

As if history-making attendance and record-breaking ticket sales aren't indication enough of Swift's power, the Eras Tour is so highly in-demand that fans are sitting outside of the venue to still be part of the show. Fans crowded barricades and camped out in the parking lot of Nissan Stadium, ready to watch (and sing along) Swift on the big screen — something that has seemingly been happening in every city.

It Can't Be Stopped By The Elements

Adding to the magnitude of the Eras Tour, Swift performs 45 songs across three and a half hours. And to make her last night in Nashville even more momentous, she did almost all of that in pouring rain.

Swift didn't get to take the stage until after 10 p.m. on May 7 because of storms in the area (she normally goes on around 7:50 local time), but that didn't mean she'd be shortening her set. Carrying on until after 1:30 a.m. — even through the "element of slippiness happening," as she joked — Swift made it clear that she's determined to give each show her all regardless of the weather.

It's Simply A Feel-Good Celebration

Perhaps it was the five-year gap between the last time she toured. Perhaps it was the four new albums of material. Perhaps it was the celebratory nature of the show. Whatever inspired the vibe of the Eras Tour, I've never seen Taylor Swift or her fans so alive. The passion was tangible, the energy was magnetic.

Though Swift has always been known as an artist with a very loyal following, it was still mind-blowing to hear 70,000 people belt out every word for three hours straight. There aren't many artists whose catalogs are as equally beloved as they are extensive, especially one who hasn't even seen her 34th birthday. No matter how many albums and tours are in Swift's future, the Eras Tour captures a special moment in time — and celebrates a legend in her prime.