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miss-bridgerton · 4 years ago

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for real l anthony bridgerton x you l part one

word count: 1,887 words

pairing: anthony bridgerton x you

author’s note: part 1 finally! it’s not much going on, but this is just the beginning.

taglist: @fact-fictionx @alainabooks143 @michael-loves-chickens @misstonybridgerton

summary: Everyone knew that the Viscount was a rake. Except for, apparently, three young women who clung to his every word. Anthony Bridgerton was in fact charming. But he was absolutely terrible at dating three women at once. Some would call him a dunce for doing so. Others might call him a hero. Adelia Byron called him dead when she found out. Set out on revenge, she and the other two young ladies, Bette DuPont and Siena Rosso, decide to transform a lonely bakers girl into someone who can break the heart of the Viscount.

PART 1: THE SOCIETY PAPER THAT CAUSED A SCENE

YOU HAD NO IDEA that a gossip column would be the cause of a brawl in your family’s tea shop and bakery: The Fancy Teapot.

Overly priced earl grey tea? Oh, absolutely.

Chairs that pinched the bottoms of debutantes and their mammas? Pinched bottoms surely caused nasty sneers a plenty.

But the latest gossip from the squares’ paper? You certainly didn’t see that coming.

It was all because of the Viscount. Lord Anthony Bridgerton was indeed charming. He had that smile that they all seemed to fawn over. His hair was swept in all the right places. And he was a British nobleman.

What more could a young lady want?

You rolled your eyes at the words that frequented that paper. What more could a young lady want? Well, for starters, you wanted freedom. You wanted to bake. You wanted to explore different cities. Eat exotic foods. Tell stories to your future nieces and nephews of your adventures. You didn’t care about marriage, no matter how many times your sister-in-law pushed it on to you. You just simply wanted to. . .experience life.

Unlike the young women who frequented The Fancy Teapot. They were all scouring for eligible unmarried men. It was what they were taught. It was all that they knew, really.

And two debutantes who enjoyed sipping tea in The Fancy Teapot had no idea that they were both courting the Viscount. Until it came out on paper, that is.

It was a sunny spring morning and the social season had sprung in London. You loved the social season for the money it brought the tea shop, but you absolutely loathed the social season for the debutantes and their snooty behavior. They were all perfect. Beautiful gowns. Rosy pinched cheeks. The stink of wealth swarmed them like bees attracted to honey.

You had none of those things. You came from a working family. You came from two different countries. Your father had travelled to (a country of your choosing) where he met your mother and they fell in love and married within a week of him being there. Your father had convinced your mother to leave everything behind to be with him in London, but her one condition was to open a tea shop and bakery.

He clung to his part of the condition. Soon after opening the shop, your older brother Jack was born. Five years later, you were born. For a short while, it was the four of you. Kids running through the tea shop, experimenting with teas, you found the love of baking with your mother, and your parents were still so madly in love it was almost embarrassing. Sadly, your mother became ill and passed away two years ago.

The death was stricken. And hard on you. But it was your father that you and Jack worried after, for it was almost as if he became a different person. As if he lost a part of himself when your mother died. He tried to drink his sorrows away at the pubs, and fancied spending too much money on gambles and bets.

That morning, he was nowhere near the tea shop, probably somewhere betting on poker chips, when you had to break apart two debutantes from nearly mauling each other.

Adelia Byron was with her friend, Cressida Cowper, at a small table near the colossal windows. She didn’t say thank you or even acknowledged your existence when you set down her steaming chamomile tea and slice of cornish hevva cake. You rolled your eyes at the way she gloated over the attention she received at the Warwick ball. Adelia was still on a thrill from two nights before, where the touch of the Viscount’s hand on her back as they danced was still on her. She dreamt of his gorgeous eyes. And when she saw the bouquets of roses addressed to her that morning, she was in total bliss.

Her friend, Cressida, was jealous. Adelia knew it. And if there was something Adelia Byron was known for, it was that she enjoyed bragging. Her father was a Baron, which made her quite eligible for marriage to a Viscount. She had elegant features: Dark red hair, stormy eyes, high cheek-bones. She had already received three proposals but Adelia knew what she wanted. Who she wanted.

Simply put, nobody else would do. She was going to marry the Viscount. And God help her and anyone who got in her way.

On the other side of The Fancy Teapot, situated at a round table underneath an elegant painting by your brother Jack, was Elizabeth DuPont and her overbearing mother, Colette. Elizabeth, often called Bette, was the daughter of The Marquess of DuPont. So her marriage to a man of great wealth and a powerful title was extremely vital. To her mother, at least.

Bette was fond of the Viscount. He swept her away with his words, he was impressed with the way she could speak French and German, and the kiss he laid upon her gloved hand sent a thrill through her body. She couldn’t bear to tell her mother that when she went out to the balcony for a quick breath of fresh air during the Warwick Ball, she was accompanied by Lord Anthony Bridgerton.

Her mother would have been furious. She wanted Bette to charm the Prince - not the Viscount. She wanted her daughter to marry a title higher, not a title lower.

You had just set down two tea cups of herbal tea at their table when one of the young newsie boys stopped by the Fancy Teapot to drop off the new Society Paper.

“Hey, Sam,” you greeted the ten year old boy. He often was the one who sauntered in here to deliver the paper and he did it eagerly, knowing fully well that you were going to give him some free wrapped biscuits, like always.

“Y/N!” He greeted with a boyish grin. “What’s on the menu today? I hope it's something drowned in sugar!” He said excitedly.

You laughed and grabbed the box of warm treacle tarts from under the front counter. “It’s not drowned in sugar, but I think you’ll still enjoy them,” you told him.

He grinned widely. “You’re a real magician, Miss Y/L/N!”

You smiled warmly as the little boy went off and you were so busy handing over his desserts that you didn’t even notice, Dorothea, your sister-in-law, completely captivated by the latest Lady Whistledown’s writings.

“Bloody Hell,” she muttered, leaning her back against the counter and reading the paper. A mama and her daughter were standing by the counter, awaiting some assistance and looking very peevish. You sighed at how unobservant Dorothea was.

You took care of the customers and then turned to Dorothea, who looked as if she had acquired the most scandalous news.

“Y/N! Have you read this yet? It’s so scandalous!”

“No,” you replied, though you were a bit curious. “Who is it about?”

“The Viscount.”

“Hard pass,” you replied.

Dorothea rolled her eyes. “You are impossible. It’s not just about him but about the women he’s apparently leading on. And,” she took a moment to look around the tea shop and then in a hushed tone continued, “two of them are in here. Right now. Unaware of all of it!”

Well, surely just a peak at the new Society Paper wouldn’t do any harm. You grabbed the paper and took a look:

At the Warwick ball Thursday evening, Viscount Bridgerton was seen dancing with not one eligible young lady, but two. Now, I assume you dear readers know quite the reputation of our charming Viscount, as this behavior isn’t quite unusual. If you are familiar with the season’s doings, dancing with eligible suitors is normal.

Except Lord Anthony Bridgerton was seen with Miss Bette DuPont awfully close on the brink of the balcony and also seen later that evening with a certain opera singer, Siena Rosso, nuzzling her neck in a dark corner of the opera house.

How will the ladies take this embarrassment? Well, this author predicts that Miss Bette DuPont will turn a rather shade red and Miss Adelia Byron’s eyes will flash with a colour quite similar. Miss Siena Rosso will probably be locked up in a bedroom with the Viscount to even notice.

LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS,16 APRIL 1814

Oh, brother, you thought. This better not cause anything stupid in here -

“HOW DARE YOU!!!!”

You and Dorothea looked up in bewilderment at the sudden outburst. And there it was. Lady Adelia Byron, looking absolutely furious, clutching the society paper, and standing over Lady Bette DuPont who was sitting at her table, looking between a mix of surprise and confusion.

“I beg your pardon?” Bette said to her appalled.

“You!” Adelia yelled. “You are involved with my suitor! How dare you?! You - you - harlot!”

Bette’s jaw dropped but it was her mother who spoke. “My, I never! That is quite unladylike behavior, young lady. My Elizabeth is not some harlot, clearly you cannot read because you have been thoroughly mistaken.”

Adelia rolled her stormy eyes and handed over the paper. Bette hastily read it before gasping, throwing a pretty gloved hand over her mouth.

“This cannot be true. My Lord would never do such things.” Bette told her.

“My Lord?” Adelia mocked. “He’s not your anything. I am going to marry him. So this little rendezvous is finished.”

Bette raised a brow. “I don’t think so,” she simply replied and took a sip of her tea.

Adelia looked as if she was going to chuck that steaming tea pot at the young lady’s head, so you had no choice - you had to get involved.

“Ladies, please, there is no need to act in such a manner,” you told them. They both looked in your direction, looking at you as if you were just a nobody. As if they were thinking, who the hell are you and who makes you think you have any say in this?

You cleared your throat. “He’s just a man,” you tried to explain.

Adelia snorted. “Idiot,” she said under her breath.

You narrowed your eyes at her. “You know, instead of getting mad at each other for something neither of you two were unaware of, you should be mad at him. Instead you are fighting over the tosser. Now that is an idiot.”

Both girls’ jaws dropped at what you said. But both didn’t say anything in retaliation. Instead, Adelia lifted her head high and walked away with what dignity she possessed and Bette went back to her tea, ignoring her mother’s angry stares.

Dorothea was nearly bursting in astonishment and the tea shop, which went quiet during the whole argument, went back to the bustling noise it always had.

All went back to normal. Until later that evening.

While you were cleaning up and closing down The Fancy Teapot for the day, you found a folded napkin at the same table that Adelia Byron sat with Cressida Cowper. Inside was a perfectly scrawled note addressed to you.

Not many people can inspire me, but you, Miss Bakery girl, did. Visit my estate as soon as you can manage. We have a lot to discuss.

X Miss Adelia Byron

#bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #Anthony bridgerton headcanon #mine #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic #bridgerton fanfic

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talkfastromance4 · 4 years ago

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2.) Without Me--Ashton Irwin ‘Lovers in a Song’ series

a/n: So while each ‘chapter’ is titled after a song it’s more of the mood and a few choice lyrics that really made the story. This story changed a lot as I wrote it but in the end it all flows really nicely together. I’m so excited to share this with you! Each part is 3,000 with the exception of the last part. Please don’t hesitate to send me messages, I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Word count: 3k

warnings: casual drinking, unprotected sex, fingering, slight angst

Masterlist

LIAS masterlist

***

5 Years Ago

It’s raining cats and dogs on campus, the last night before graduation and Ashton is at one of the dive bars he frequented over his four years at school. There’s hardly anyone here and he’s staring at the bottle with his initials scrawled in golden loops with morose. After tomorrow when he walks across the stage, Ashton will take over the family whisky business. It’s been set in stone and passed on from generation to generation. It’s his namesake and his destiny.

“Go away! I don’t want to see you ever again and thank God after tomorrow I won’t have to!” A shrill voice erupts through the door. “Asshole!”

Ashton turns at the sudden outburst to see a beautiful girl drenched to the bone shaking off her coat before hanging it on the coat rack. Her hair hangs in wet strands reaching a little past her chest, her makeup is a bit smudged but damn, she’s a looker. Ashton’s seen her on campus and at parties but never knew her name.

She takes the seat one over from him.

“Rum and coke please, Teddy,” she asks the bartender setting her purse on the counter. She lets out a deep sigh and takes out a compact, snatches a napkin then dabs at her face. She closes the compact with a snap then smiles her thanks as her drink is presented before her. She drinks half of it in one go.

It hasn’t even been a minute and she’s already done so much to keep Ashton’s attention piqued. Who is this free-spirited woman?

“Can I help you?” her attention is directed at him, big eyes staring expectantly.

“Um, no, sorry you just…are you all right?” he asks.

“I am now,” she lifts her glass and takes another sip. “And now that my asshole boyfriend is an ex. I’m so glad I’m graduating tomorrow.”

“You are too? Congratulations,” Ashton grins and she smiles back.

“What’s your name? I’ve seen you around campus before.”

“I’m Ashton,” he holds out his hand making sure not to give his last name. Even if it is stamped on a bottle nearly six feet away.

“Cressida,” she returns and takes his hand.

Her hand is cold and wet from the rain, but a spark of electricity is transferred through them. They jump at the contact and laugh.

“I’ve never heard a name like that before.”

“My parents love Greek mythology. It means gold.”

“It’s also the third precious metal,” Ashton adds. Cressida raises her eyebrows and laughs. He only knows this because his family is trying a new concoction to add gold flakes in their newest whisky brand.

“What’s the first?”

“I have no idea,” he chuckles. “I should have paid more attention in science class. I remember gold because it’s beautiful, useful, and rare.”

“Are you sure you’re still talking about the gold or is this your Segway into a pick-up line?”

“No, no, I swear that’s not what I’m—”

“I mean it’s working in your favor, Ashton, so by all means,” she smiles interrupting his apology.

“Oh, it is, is it?”

Her eyes move to his empty glass.

“Let me buy you a drink, what’s your poison?”

Ashton doesn’t want to say whisky, it’s been on his mind since he was old enough to understand what it was. He’s also worried if he says it, Cressida will immediately know who he is. His family’s whisky is known all around the world.

“I’ll have what you’re having.”

An hour later they’re stools are so close together her legs have somehow found their way over his, and Ashton loves the warmth through his jeans. She notices the gold ring on his finger with a small ruby nestled inside.

“Is this real gold?” she asks tracing it with her pinky.

“Are you going to rob me?” he jokes.

“No, gold is only the third precious metal after all,” she giggles.

“It’s real. It was my great grandfather’s,” Ashton nods.

“It’s pretty.”

“You’re pretty.”

Cressida’s eyes sparkle up to his and the way he’s looking at her makes her stomach flip and her cheeks heat up. No one has ever looked at her with such intensity before, not even her asshole boyfriend.

“Are you doing anything between now and walking the stage tomorrow?” she asks taking a leap. Ashton shakes his head, and she leans forward, her lips grazing his cheek before touching his ear. “Wanna do me?”

Ashton slaps down some bills on the bar and moves towards the door as quick as he can helping her put her coat on. He notices there isn’t a hood, but he brought an umbrella.

“My apartment is only ten minutes away,” he says holding up his red umbrella.

They walk through the rain filled street, her arm looped through his as they talk about school and friends and what their next step is after graduation. Ashton tries to deter that conversation from him, he wants to forget about it if only for a night. And Cressida is the perfect distraction.

“I’m going to spend the summer in Europe,” she says, “I’ll be in charge of my family’s business soon, so I want a bit more freedom. I’m going to visit all of the museums and the historical landmarks.”

“That sounds really great, I wish I could do that.”

“Why don’t you?”

“I’m also taking over my family’s business as soon as I cross the stage it’s mine. It’s a big responsibility.”

She hums in acknowledgment then gasps when he stops at his building. It’s only slightly ostentatious with a secured door and a security guard inside. She’s staring at the gold mailbox slots when Ashton spins her into the elevator, she giggles against his chest. Then Ashton cups her cheek and slots his lips with hers.

She tastes like rum and coke and a night to remember, his last night of freedom. They’re stumbling through his door, removing clothes as quickly as possible. They roll around his sheets, laughing and moaning and exploring each other’s bodies. Ashton rocks into her and she moves easily, picking up on his pace like this is the hundredth time instead of the first.

“Wow,” she huffs when he collapses on top of her after he came in the condom.

“I’ll say,” he grins and pecks her nose before rolling off her to remove the condom. He retrieves two bottles of water and hands her one, climbing in next to her.

“So, Ashton,” she sighs staring at him with mussed up hair. “What is your family business?”

“I…I don’t know if I want to tell you.”

“What? Are you part of the mafia?” she snickers twisting her hair into a very loose braid. The ends of her hair tickle her nipple and Ashton slides his eyes to her face.

“No,” he laughs, “It’s just…people treat me differently when they know.”

“I can relate to that, that’s why I don’t go around shouting mine from the rooftops either. Tell me, I promise I will still look at you as the guy who picked me up at a bar because of a gold fact.”

Ashton rolls his eyes then takes a deep breath.

“All right. My family owns Irwin Whisky, my grandfather created it back in the prohibition days. After tomorrow, I’m in charge.”

Cressida is silent for a long time, just staring at him with a vacant expression on her face.

“What? What is it?” Ashton asks in alarm sitting up straight.

“Ashton, my last name is James. As in James Brandy.”

Ashton’s heart plummets to his stomach. While he was learning about whisky growing up he also learned that his grandfather started the business with his good friend, Walter James. After the prohibition was over, they joined all of their assets to get the company rolling.

Then there was a fallout due to unpaid expenses and a deal Walter made without consulting Ashton’s great grandfather Frank that could have upended the company before it really started. Ashton learned about distillery and grains and wheat and also to never, ever interact with a James’ family member. All they’ll do is double cross you and keep secrets.

And now he just had sex with his family’s enemy.

Ashton and Cressida meet each other’s eye before they both leap out of bed. He’s quickly pulling on some pants while she’s slipping her sweater over her head, both of them shouting nonsensical words in surprise.

“Why didn’t you tell me at the bar?!” she demands.

“I just told you I don’t go around saying my name because people treat me differently! You didn’t tell me yours either!”

“How was I supposed to know I was hitting on an Irwin!” she rages trying to find her pants. “No one can ever know about this; oh, my mother would kill me!”

“At least you’re going to Europe for three months,” Ashton seethes.

“You could go too, you know. Just because you’re taking over the business doesn’t mean you’re trapped,” she snaps.

“Then why are you going?”

She lets out an angry huff and throws her hands in the air. “My trip doesn’t matter right now! What matters is that we just had sex.”

“Yeah, I was there,” he rolls his eyes then stops his actions of frantically moving about. He’s not even sure why he was doing so, it’s not like the SWAT team was going to come bursting through his door. “Wait, wait, what are we doing?”

“I’m trying to find my pants so I can leave!”

Ashton rushes in front of her and grabs her shoulders, he shakes her slightly until she’s looking at him.

“No, I mean…why are we acting like the ceiling is going to collapse? Was it a mistake we did this? Probably, but I don’t regret it Cressida, not one bit. You’re…”

“I’m what?” her eyes are blazing and that’s when Ashton notices the small flecks of gold inside of them.

“You’re gold; precious and beautiful and the rarest girl I’ve ever met in my life. No one has to know about this except us,” he shakes his head.

“You’re saying ‘this’ as if ‘this’ is something…”

“It could be,” he shrugs, his eyes imploring her to meet him in the middle. “I thought this was going to be a one-time thing, but after being with you…and hearing you’re going to Europe. I want that, too.”

“You want to go to Europe with me? Ashton, we just met and found out our families are like the Montagues and the Capulets. Do you remember the ending to that story?”

“I’m not saying we share the same car to the airport where we can be seen together. I don’t want to let you go just yet.”

“Ash, this is crazy!”

“If it’s so crazy then why aren’t you still trying to find your clothes?”

She opens her mouth to retort something but closes it because she has nothing to say. Even though they just met, that spark they felt at the bar continued to his bed. It was as if they knew each other from a different life and were reconnecting all over again.

“Maybe I’ll make the mistake and book a trip to Europe and mistakenly run into you at an art museum,” he says tugging her sweater off her again. “And maybe I’ll mistakenly lose my hotel key and stay with you.”

He bends down pressing his lips to her neck where he sucked a mark only forty-five minutes ago. Cressida sighs into him, her hands holding onto his neck as he kisses the lobe of her ear.

“How does that sound?”

She can picture it. They’ll be in another country where their family won’t see unless photographers capture them, but they both aren’t the face of the name of their family business yet. They’re still young and free for a little while longer. She’s happy she stumbled into the bar where he as and that he found her when her heart was broke.

“Then be my mistake,” she sighs capturing his lips with hers and they fall back onto the bed a tangle of limbs and moans.

“What’s on your mind over there?” she asks while they have breakfast on the balcony. The sun is warm on their backs as they indulge in pancakes, waffles, and bacon.

“I’m thinking of Europe,” he squeezes her calf that is resting on his lap. When they woke up she didn’t bring up the night before of her crying and he didn’t either, but the axe is still hanging over their heads. It’s only a matter of time before it comes striking down.

“That was the longest we were together,” she smiles fondly at the memory of many late starts in the morning. “I loved those three months. And now we only have three—”

“Cressida, don’t,” Ashton shakes his head and sets his espresso cup on the saucer. He drags her onto his lap, and she hooks her arms around his neck and shoulders. “We’ve agreed that when we’re here, the outside world doesn’t exist. We have until Monday to face the music.”

“The music won’t shut up in my head,” she knocks her forehead against his.

“I think I can help with that,” he mutters slipping his hand under the hem of her robe.

Cressida gasps as his finger nudges her center, she tries to kiss him, but her attention is otherwise occupied on his finger that is now twiddling inside her. Her back arches as she rocks on top of him, the shoulder of her robe falls down exposing her breast that Ashton quickly sucks into his mouth. Cressida moans in pleasure from both stimulations, she spreads her legs wider and Ashton bites onto her nipple.

“So pretty when you moan,” he mumbles on her skin and adds another finger. He works her over, scissoring and twiddling against her walls as his thumb presses against her clit harshly.

“Ash!” she chokes out yanking on his hair.

“That’s right, I’m the only thing that should be on your mind. Come for me, baby.”

He moves his arm faster and her toes curl as her head spins in pleasure. She’s panting his name like a prayer then finally slips her tongue in his mouth. This kiss reminds her of their last morning in Europe. They were having breakfast and the finality of their time together loomed over them like a dark cloud. Neither one of them wanted to go because they didn’t know when the next time they’d see each other would be.

She kisses him more fiercely, trying to push that sad memory away and the dark cloud that’s above them now. Sensing her urgency, Ashton removes his fingers from inside her and carries her into the room. She drops to the bed untying her robe watching with hunger in her eyes as he removes his loose sweatpants. He’s already hard and throbbing for her.

Ashton pushes her knees to her chest, kissing over the initials he branded on her skin last night, over her navel and finally to her mouth. He pushes himself inside her, they both groan at him going in dry but he knows it won’t be long until she’s lubricated herself for him.

“You’re perfect for me,” Ashton sighs rocking his hips into hers. The dry rub is becoming more fluid as he thrusts shallowly in and out of her.

“You’re my gold,” her nails scrape into his 5 o’clock shadow and nips at his lips.

“No baby,” he gives her a deep thrust that has her moan loudly. “That’s you.”

When she’s slick enough, Ashton flips her over onto her stomach, her face pressed to the robe and her hair draped over her back gloriously.

“Ready for me, angel?” he asks gripping her hips tightly and presses between her folds.

“Always.”

Ashton drives himself into her, skin slapping against skin drifts outside in the morning breeze. He fucks into her desperately, wanting this moment to last forever and when she starts to rock back against him, he swears he sees stars. They’re frantic, it’s chaotic, it’s their secret of this love affair in physical form.

“Right there, Ash, yes!” she mewls tossing her head back.

Ashton fists his hand into her hair, tilting her head up so he can suck on her neck as he continues to plow into her. She’s choking on moans and his name, begging for her release.

“Give it to me, Cressida,” he breathes, and she falls apart at the sound of her name.

She squeezes on his cock and Ashton can’t hold on much longer from that as she relishes in her orgasm. Before he can comprehend what’s happening, he’s spilling inside her and they collapse onto the bed, their bodies slick with sweat. He’s never come inside her before, a rule they agreed on together because that would only complicate things more. But this weekend, all bets are off.

Her hair sticks to his chest and he trembles, rocking his hips until he’s finished. Ashton brushes her hair from her back, and he kisses sweetly onto her spine while Cressida gathers her breath. She gathers his fingers with hers, bringing them to her lips and kisses them. He breathes her in, a mixture of her own scent and his combined. It’s intoxicating.

“I’ll go get a towel,” he inhales heavily through his nose, the air whistling in her hair.

“Not yet…stay a little longer,” she tightens her hold on his fingers.

He stays until he feels her heartbeat slow against his hand on her chest. With one final kiss he pulls himself gingerly out of her. They both wince at the loss of warmth.

“I’m sorry. I know we agreed not to do that,” he apologizes cleaning her.

She rolls over scooting to the edge of the bed and wraps her arms around his waist. Ashton kisses her hair.

“I’m not sorry. It’s harder to let go now,” she sniffs.

“I know.”

Taglist: @calpalirwin @myloverboyash @loveroflrh @cxddlyash @princesslrh @spicylftv @notinthesameguey @itjustkindahappenedreally @calumance @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @sarcastically-defensive17 @another-lonely-heart @devilatmydoor @thatscooibaby @suchalonelysunflower @dead-and-golden @mymindwide @blackbutterfliescal @redrattlers @karajaynetoday @quasighost @i-like-5sos @creampiecashton @calpops @littledrummeraussie @sexgodashton @f-mu @mystic-232

#lias #lias fic #ashton irwin angst #ashton irwin smut #ashton irwin au #ashton 5sos #ashton 5sos writing #ashton fic

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blonde-toddy · 4 years ago

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Random and Not So Random thoughts while watching Bridgerton: Season 1, Episode 4

Oh they're at court.

Also she's not a commoner. She's the daughter of a Viscount.

Another Daphne brag moment, but homegirl really got the juice. She's bagging mfs over hand holding and dancing.

Violet dgaf. She's hungry now, damn it!

Oh he's buying jewelry already.

Ooooooh the way she imagines the Duke behind her. Honey yes. That scene was hot.

Too bad she came back to reality.

Hyacinth is my spirit animal.

Lady Whistledown ain't ready to write Simon off yet. She's waiting on the Dukes Hail Mary.

Shit. So am I.

I have never seen someone look so depressed in such an exquisite piece of jewelry. It's like the necklace chokes her. Testament to the acting and script for that though. It truly represents a trap.

Awww Simon is wearing that heavy bag out. I would say poor Simon, but he made this damn bed.

I love Alice and Will. They are the kind of wholesome love I need to keep my heart steady watching this damn show. She's his rider and I love it.

Alice roasting Simon over Daphne. Get. Yo. Girl. Mane.

I always cringe when a man tells a woman to smile.

Poor Marina. Portia is determined to find her the oldest mf. She's playing smart though.

Those damn dingbat sisters.

Maybe Penelope does care.

Well at least the least mean sister got a caller. They're awkward/cute.

Eloise girl, I love feathers in hair. Your one dimensional preaching is wearing me out again.

A boxing match date? I'd be down.

The prince legit seems like a nice guy. And Daphne is trying....but she's CLEARLY hung up on Simon.

Oh look Simon's losing focus on his friend because he's too focused on Daphne and the prince.

Ok mf! Take that shit off and roll them sleeves up. It turns me on too sis!

Oh look at the sweet family talk with the prince. Girl he'd give you any and everything you wanted.

But you and the Duke are just ATE TF UP about each other!

Mondrich for the win!!!!

Oh Benny. You've got a new friend. But what kind of friend? Give me more of this.

Well Anthony is smug and pleased as punch. Simons courtship of Daphne has ended. She has her perfect suitor. And Simon is leaving England to go rake and fuckboy about.

Though Simons hard slammed shot when the prince approached says he's anything but happy.

Violet always worries about the wrong shit.

Hyacinth always wants to know the good shit.

Be Hyacinth.

Oh fuck the prince is ready to propose. That shit escalated quickly.

SIMON!!!!!! Now would be a good time for that Hail Mary.

Good job Anthony. Way to realize that the women in your life have agency over THEMSELVES.

Violet always beating around the damn bush.....but she is still 100% #teamduke

Aw Daphne you're gonna break down snitching on yourself.

If it wasn't real with Simon you wouldn't be so ate up about it, and you would be rocking tf out of that necklace from the prince instead of crying.

There's a reason for the black in her outfit. For Daphne, who is normally all pastel blues, that black is her mourning. It's her 'attempting' to put to death her feelings for the Duke. And also I think mourning the loss if the bond they shared. Maybe I'm reading too much into it. But this seems like a very deliberate show with it's details.

Danbury ripping Simon open before she sends him off. Big energy.

She knows everything you thick headed mf. Why won't you just listen?! You letting your rank ass daddy live rent free in your soul.

He's so jaded it hurts.

Ayyyye this Trowbridge party looks like the real deal.

Oh gawd. Marina and the old man.

Mr. Finch and the cheese frock. Jesus who wrote this. I love it

Cressida you have been Daphnes biggest hater all season and now you're mad that she's with the prince. He was never gonna marry yo basket headed ass anyway.

Oooooh shit Simon sees the 'intimate painting' and has 2nd thoughts.

Go. Get. Yo. Girl.......Bitch.

Ooooh Benny's at the new homies spot and it's lit!

Naked models, easels, mingling between the classes. Yes indeed.

2nd sons having fun. Hell yes.

Damn Even Sienna at the ball...as a performer of course.

And Anthony looking tongue tied.

Violet....you need to chill. There take another sip.

Portia trying to shade Lady Trowbridges style is comical. Both of y'all bitches gaudy as hell.

Oh shit Phillipa lost her man.

Wtf is wrong with Lord Featherington?

And wtf are you doing Eloise?

Ayyye she just let her have it. You think servants have the time to be Lady Whistledown? I'm dead.

"Get out."

Ok Penelope with your saucy ass.

Well fuck! You just pushed him right to Marina. You played yourself boo.

Oooh the prince is about to shoot the big shot and Daphne keeps running away.

She done spotted Simon. Its over.

Fuck off Cressida.

Rip that mf necklace off girl.

Simon followed her ass outside.

"Miss Bridgerton." Motherfucker, call her Daphne.

"I came to say goodbye." Man. Go to hell.

Daphne serving those barbs. You not ready to keep playing with her.

Damn, Simon. If you're not gonna give her what she wants, get out the way.

Tell his ass sis.....even if you don't believe it yourself.

Really Simon? You stand there quiet as a mf church mouse whiles she's pleading with you to say something.....then you take off after her once she walks away from your shit

I swear.....men.....yall mfs really do shit like this. Speak up! Or...LET. ME. GO.

She's really cracking on his ass and I'm here for it....but wtf us up with his "I forbid you." Who tf are you to me? I'm glad she ain't playing with his ass.

Ooooh he called her Daphne and grabbed her.

Oh honey this is what fulfillment feels like, isn't it?

He's definitely fulFILLing her all the way up!

Oh shit Anthony caught them.

At least he finally landed some decent blows on Simon.

This RAKE ass mf still won't marry her.

Oh Simon.....for once.....Anthony is in the right and you the wrong. You are really about to die over your fucking daddy issues. Boy bye. Again.

Poor Daphne.

Wait, how did Cressida know she was in the garden?

That can't be good.

At least Benny is having a good time.

Dearest Portia, when you go looking for shit, it usually falls in your lap.

Marina keeps carrying on about Colin and Penelope is crushed.....or scheming....or both.

Aww Penelope let her hurt feelings cause a fight with her bestie. Her jealousy is seething.

Daphne still out here having to educate Anthony....though I get the need for the duel. And he still thinks he's running something.

Ooooh this is why they brought up 2nd sons.....Anthony is prepping Benny to take over. Well Benny, at least you had one good night out.

Colin caring for drunk Violet is parenting goals one day.

Oh great, now yall wanna bring Colin into the shit.

Simon raiding Wills spot for booze was so uneccesarily loud.

So Berbrooke alludes to her dishonor and Simon caves his fucking head in. Simon legit dishonors her and he's just like ,"Kay, guess I'll go get shot now." Someone get this man some therapy.

Oh great Anthony is back at Siennas door with more of his bullshit. Girl. Close that door.

No, not after you've let him in and climbed his torso. I guess y'all fuckin again.

He lost all the money and now he's fucked up.

Her face while he cried, is literally the face of every woman sick of a mediocre man's shit.

Oooh now they're all riding off into battle like the fucking idiots they are.

Colin is so pure.

I knew that Cressida shit would come back.

Well at least Anthony was willing to care for Sienna in his death....but damn mf, treat me right while WE'RE here.

Oh the dramatics of drawing a gun.

Nobody is here for Simon's weak ass apologies and I'm okay with that.

Hurry hurry Daphne.

Daphne down....but she's alright.

Call them idiots just like they are.

Simon still being a hoe about this shit. You really about let her be ostracized because you're a fuck boy.

Ultimate fuck boy line...I can't be with you because I love you too much. Fucking hell.

They do obviously love each other though.

Hold up.......you CAN NEVER, or WILL NEVER give her children. Don't play this like you have a reproductive issue.

So your reason for not marrying her is that you "can never" give her children and you know that's what her heart desires.

You playing with fire, Simon.

I wonder how much shit I let slide with his character just because he's portrayed so well by the phenomenal Regé-Jean Page.

No, I do love Simon's damaged ass. He just makes me so mad.

So the duel resumes......or not.

Daphne said, "Fuck them kids, give me my husband." Or something like that.

Well. This us an uncomfortable arrangement even though both of these idiots are in love.

Simon's evasion will most certainly come back to bite him in the ass.

But I'll be here with my popcorn and tissue, rooting for these cool kids to make it!

#bridgerton #bridgerton reaction #bridgerton season 1 #simon x daphne #daphne x simon #lady danbury #the duke of hastings #daphne bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #colin bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #penelope featherington #marina thompson #portia featherington #will mondrich #violet bridgerton #hyacinth bridgerton

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gldngrl7 · 4 years ago

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Bridgerton - My Take

Words cannot express what it’s like to wait 20 years for to see something you never actually thought would get made and then have it turn out as wonderfully as it did. This is not spoiler free and these thoughts are just going to spill out as they come to me:

Casting is spot on. So happy! I did not find a single character disappointing, and when a character didn’t match my mental image from the book I usually like the show character better.

Costumes are amazing!

Francesca is STILL the forgotten Bridgerton! Where is Francesca??? Also apparently forgotten? Felicity Featherington, the youngest daughter of the Featherington clan. Maybe they’re keeping her locked in the nursery because she must be even younger than Hyacinth.

I hadn’t remembered Marina from TSPWL so having her marry Phillip was a twist I didn’t see coming. I hadn’t made the mental connection with her paramour, sir George, having the same surname. But as she drove away with him there was that dreadful feeling of knowing how that was all going to turn out, which made the trek at that much better.

My problem with the Marina/Phillip twist is that she was supposed to be a Bridgerton cousin and NOT a Featherington cousin. So, when she dies, Eloise is compelled to write her condolences to Phillip which sparks their correspondence. With the changes, I can’t see what impetus they’ll use to start their relationship. Eloise should feel no sadness at her loss since (a) theyre not related, (b) she never really befriended Marina and (c) Marina freaking tried to trap her brother into a deceptive marriage. I hope this isn’t a cross-that-bridge-when-we-get-to-it writer’s moment.

Why do the bullets get farther and farther apart every time I hit return?

Okay that’s better

Even I was surprised at the graphic level of sex. And I’ve watched Spartacus! 😂 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 and bravo for not making it all about tits and bush.

I didn’t have a problem with Anthony’s overprotectiveness, tbh. And didn’t see it as OOC. Since his father’s death he’s been the defacto father figure (he’s the only dad Hyacinth has ever known) but I think they wanted to demonstrate that he’s (a) taking his responsibility seriously but that (b) he’s way out of his depth and doesn’t actually know what he’s doing. Also there’s the irony that he will have to face off with Kate next season, who takes her responsibility of protecting her sister, Edwina, with all the same gusto — especially from him. So he’ll get to be on the other side of it. That tickled me a bit.

I tried to find the balance between empathizing with Siena while also not investing emotionally in that relationship. What an untenable position to be a woman without status amongst powerful men. How terrifying to have such an uncertain future. Even a society spinster would likely live to serve as a conpanion or chaperone to a richer relative and thus be taken care of — but an opera singer who’s value diminishes with each passing year...I can’t imagine.

Not a fan of how they demonized Nigel Berbrooke. They took a hapless, socially challenged but otherwise honorable man and turned him into a villain. Because he wasn’t written as a romantic hero perse, I never wanted him to end up with the heroine, but I was satisfied when I read that he eventually did find his match in the books. I never had anything against him.

Prince Freiderich should get his own season. Or book. Hate to see a handsome, gentle and kind man go to waste like that. Especially one that actually WANTS to marry and have kids.

Cressida Cowper, you twat. 🤣🤣 even regency period had their mean girls.

Phoebe Dyneover reminds me so much of Claire Foy in the first season of the Crown. Very similar speech patterns.

I’m not down for flipping the sexualities of any of the canon characters. But I am down with Ally-Benedict who learns to accept and empathize with his queer friends and even takes personal risks to help cover for them when necessary.

I loved that Colin asks Penelope to dance and NOT because Violet always forced him to, like she does in the first few books.

I would love for Sophie to be Asian/Indo-Pak. Casting director take note.

I almost wish they hadn’t named the show Bridgerton. Bridgerton of course has the name recognition all book fans clamor for, but if this show were to magically go on (and on) it leaves out the possibility of “How to Marry a Marquis” or “What Happens in London Stays in London”, etc... I want ALL the Julia Quinn. What’s so bad about that?

I kept my expectations low, tbh and tried to keep in mind that translating from page to screen often requires some finessing, so I’m not going to bitch about every little plot change they made to tell their story. I feel blessed that I got to see these characters brought to life.

Now for some likely unpopular opinions:

Here’s a fact: for better or for worse these books were not written for an lgbtq target audience. They just weren’t. So don’t expect more than the passing nod to the existence of gays or trans people living lives of quiet desperation in the ranks of regency society. Don’t expect them to turn Eloise and Penelope into secret lovers. They won’t. Because the people who have been steady fans, who have purchased these books every time a new cover comes out with their hard earned money, will not stand for their beloved characters suddenly diverging so far from canon. I think some divergence from canon is allowable but changing the core of the character and their romance story will likely not go well. Don’t suddenly expect Benedict to burst out of the closet just because he joins an artist colony.

Honestly, I can’t be bothered to get incensed by Daphne getting Simon to come inside of her. I just can’t. I’ll save my moral outrage for the idea that she was legally his property. That a husband could beat his wife with a cane and she would have no legal leg to stand on. That women were so uneducated about sex that men could so easily manipulate women to get what they want. That a man could toss his wife down a flight of stairs, call it an accident, be married again in a few months and the only consequence he’d face would be the whispers and side eyes from society. And, most of all, that in society’s eyes a woman’s only value was in her ability to conceive and bear children, and not even in whether or not she might live long enough to raise them!! So the fact that he couldn’t control his ejaculation long enough to throw off a woman he outweighed by easily fifty pounds...? Boo-fucking-hoo on your male privilege and vastly unbalanced power dynamic. Sorry, not sorry. She did what she thought she had to do to be of value in the society that raised her. She didn’t make the rules, she was just living by them. I’m not interested in a debate on this point. It’s my opinion and you’re entitled to keep your own - on your own blog.

How long do we have to wait to hear if we get a season 2?

#bridgerton #spoilers #netflix

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ears-awake-eyes-opened · 4 years ago

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Wedding Colors (Part 3)

(Hayffie ❤️🧡💛💚💙💖. An exploration of Effie’s evolving character as she faces past and present personal intensities while making preparations for Finnick and Annie’s wedding.)

13:00—lunch. For the first time since the ominous day in July that she’d descended into the gloom of 13, Effie’s belly was full. As weeks had turned into months, she hadn’t felt hunger. She’d picked at meals and pushed unpalatable food around her tray. But now something was different. Flint scraped over steel inside her like the wind across her cheeks that morning. Her spoon repeatedly clinked the bottom of the bowl of squash soup. It took every ounce of restraint to not bring the whole bowl to her mouth and tilt it upward to collect the last drops.

Keenly observant, Cressida noted, “That’s new.”

“What?”

“You finishing a meal here.” She dropped her voice. “Are you pregnant, Trinket?”

Effie’s face flushed scarlet, blushing through burnt cheeks. “Bite your tongue!” she snapped.

Cressida glanced at Pollux, and Effie recognized her own faux pas. “Please excuse me. I wasn’t thinking about...”

Interacting with an Avox who was a regular citizen rather than a servant of the Capitol was still a new experience for her.

Pollux signed, “No problem,” and his brother offered the translation.

Effie returned her attention to the inquisitive filmmaker. “I’m JUST hungry. Must a woman be pregnant in order to finish a bowl of soup?” She whispered “pregnant” as if saying it too loudly might invite the situation. Or just as worrisome, Haymitch could walk in at that moment, hear the word, flip out, and not touch her again. Now that she’d opened the Pandora’s box of sex with him, she didn’t want to put a lid back on it.

“Okay. I get it.” Cressida was intrigued by Effie’s blush, but otherwise mollified. “You like the soup. End of story.”

It was golden orange in color and lightly flavored with spices that tasted like autumn. Ginger was recognizable, but the others were a mystery to Effie. Her experience with cooking was mostly limited to a course she’d taken a decade and a half prior at Charis School of Grace, Beauty, and Charm.

Her mother had insisted on “Finishing School” for Effie after she graduated from the Academy. The summer classes had been a compromise, since her father was resolute in his intention to send her to University. He’d even dipped into his personal inheritance to pay extra tuition when her test scores didn’t qualify her outright for admission.

“Charis will focus Euphemia on the most sophisticated etiquette and deportment, preparing her for marriage into greater wealth,” her mother argued.

“University will prepare Effie for a practical career suited to her strongest skills,” her father contended.

“Grace, beauty, and charm ARE her strongest skills. Face it, dear. Like you, our daughter lacks the talent to be a Gamemaker.”

“She has the talent to be more than a rich man’s wife.”

“If I were the wife of a RICH man, then we wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we?”

Their barbs stung each other. After years of practice, the Trinkets knew just where to aim them. They agreed that Effie needed a path which would secure an optimal future for the family. Neither of them asked her what she wanted.

If they’d asked back then, she would have had one specific answer. And if she was honest with herself now, her deepest desire was exactly the same. If she’d voiced it then, her parents would have sent her to the Asylum first before anything else. So she said nothing about it.

By 18, she’d become a master at the art of knowing when to hold her tongue. She’d internalized the pressure to please her parents and reflect positively on her family’s name and station in society. The burden of doing so was a heavy weight on her shoulders.

Effie’s shoulders ached too from the physical work of gathering and carrying around large sacks of perfect leaves. She daydreamed about a bath full of bubbles followed by a nap on a real bed. Allowing the fantasy was a mistake because then her body screamed for it.

She wondered if even babies were allowed to nap here, or did they get merely a half hour of “reflection” before dinner like everyone else? Did they have daily schedules imprinted on their chubby little arms? Eat. Poop. Sleep. What else did the tiny things do? She’d never paid much attention to them in the Capitol. Had she ever seen a baby in 13? She couldn’t recall.

***

14:00—volunteering. The children would be out of school soon. Plutarch told her to expect them along with anyone who was between work shifts. Coin was allowing more flexibility than usual in order to encourage volunteerism. Effie considered the irony in the word spelled out on her arm in purple ink. Following schedules was mandatory. Once “volunteering” is tattooed on your body, doesn’t it cease to be voluntary?

That place made her head hurt if she thought about it too much. She pulled her rose-tinted sunglasses out of her pocket and put them on, hoping the change in light would temper some of the ache, and help her feel less vulnerable.

“Ready or not, here I go,” she said out loud.

She approached the kitchen staff for permission to use large plastic serving bowls to hold the leaves at the tables. The kitchen manager, a middle aged woman named Cuire, put up resistance, muttering something about needing authorization from the president.

Greasy Sae showed no qualms about interjecting. “Now, those leaves ain’t all that different from a salad. We’ll have the bowls washed again long before dinner service.”

The older woman, with her hair up in a kerchief more plain than Effie’s, carried a stack of serving bowls through the doorway without waiting for the manager’s consent. She returned to the kitchen for more until every serving bowl in 13 was in the dining hall. Cuire pursed her lips but said nothing.

Sae pulled a handful of leaves out of one of the canvas bags and dropped them into a bowl. “The list of procedures here’s a mile long. Sometimes the only way to keep these folks from sayin’ ‘no’ is to just not ask ‘em. And then work fast.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Effie joined her efforts to quickly transfer the leaves to the bowls. “Thank you, Sae.”

“Thank YOU, girl. Gatherin’ up all these to make pretty things for the weddin’, you must be exhausted.”

“I had help. From Haymitch.”

“Did you?”

“I had to ambush him.”

“Nah. As often as that boy looks at you, I’d guess he went willingly.”

Ambushed and willing. Yes, he was.

Beetee wheeled up to her with several spools of wire, wire cutters, rolls of electrical tape, and several pairs of scissors.

“The copper color is PERFECT!” Effie gushed.

“This wire is at least a hundred years old,” he replied with little emotion, “The only reason it shows no corrosion is because 13 is fastidious about its storage conditions, including adequate air circulation. The gauge is small. The electrical current from present technologies, would overload and overheat it. The wire is rather useless actually.”

“Well, we’ve found a use for it!”

“In the absence of copper tape, this seems the best match, which is ironic since brown is typically used for high voltages. And high voltages would burn right through this particular wire.”

“We’re just making garlands today, not blowing out an arena!”

“You’re speaking non-metaphorically, of course. We might hope the propo will play a role in shattering the Capitol’s grip on the restless minds of its citizens... That said, it isn’t my intention to imply that YOUR mind is gripped and restless.”

A gripped and restless mind sounded fairly accurate to Effie. “I doubt the Capitol views me as its citizen at this point.” I guess that makes me homeless, even though my family home, my apartment, my belongings, my entire history are all there.

Beetee noticed her smile fade. “You might be right about that. ...I’m sorry.”

After seeing what her victors had been through and what they were still going through, she felt uncomfortable being apologized to by a victor who she held in high regard. I don’t deserve an apology, though manners dictated the proper response to an apology was a gracious, “Thank you.”

“Will you be staying to help?” she added.

“I’m needed in Special Defense. Bring the leftover supplies when you come down later.”

“Beetee, thank you for this.”

The clock was ticking. Effie went to work immediately, arranging leaves in alternating colors and shapes and adhering the stems to a long length of wire.

“What a beautiful pattern!” A friendly voice spoke over Effie’s shoulder. She turned to see Delly Cartwright whose blonde hair fell free of its usual braid.

“An artisan! Delly, I’m grateful you’re here to help with production and quality control.”

From their occasional chats at mealtimes, Effie had learned that Delly’s parents had been shoemakers, and 13 put her to work in textile production as soon as she’d turned 18.

“Me? An artisan?”

“You WILL be, dear. I’ve seen your stitching. I’ve also observed your congenial way with people.” Effie cut a long length of wire for Delly and set her up with supplies to work at another table. “Let’s spread around the talent.”

When school let out, Delly’s younger brother was the first to arrive, not wanting to go “home” to empty quarters. Posy Hawthorne followed close at his heels, skipping to keep up with his much longer legs.

“Stop followin’ me!” he told her.

“I’m not followin’ you. We’re just goin’ the same place, that’s all.”

“Well, you’re a baby, and I don’t want you sittin’ at MY table.”

“Cordwain!” Delly interjected, “That’s not polite!”

“I’m FIVE years old, and I’ll sit wherever I please, CordWAIN.” With three older brothers, Posy could hold her own in disagreements with just about anyone, especially boys. Effie admired that along with her manners.

“Aw, Dellyyyy,” her brother whined, “You’re supposed to call me Cord!”

“You apologize to Posy, and I won’t have to be so stern.”

“Do I HAVE to?! She’s just Vick’s little sister.”

“And you’re MY little brother, so, yes, you do. You know Ma and Pa would say so if—“

“Ma and Pa are dead!” Cord sat at the table with Delly and folded his arms across his chest.

Delly sighed, and her tone softened, “Cordy, honey, that’s all the more reason to apologize.”

His lip quivered, and he muttered in a hoarse voice. “Sorry.”

“I’m sorry they died,” Posy empathized, “My daddy died b’fore I was born.”

She sat across from Effie and looked at her for a long fifteen seconds. Effie wasn’t used to children being so young. The girl’s dark hair fell long past her shoulders in two braids. Her gray eyes were deeply set. She had the look of a person who’d seen the shadow of death and kept going.

“I like your pink glasses.” Posy twirled one of her braids around her finger. “I used to have pink ribbons. Two of ‘em.”

“When I was your age, I wore pink ribbons in my hair. Pink was my favorite color.”

“Mine too! Gale says we can’t go back fer the ribbons. He says they’re gone. Do you think they’re gone?”

“Well... I...” For goodness sake. What does one say to a child whose district was fire bombed to rubble?

Cord muttered some more, “Of course they’re gone!”

Posy ignored him, waiting for Effie’s response.

“Your brother, Gale, is wise, dear.” Effie saw her expectant little face fall. “I am going to your district tomorrow. With Katniss. Would you like for me to look for the ribbons so you know for certain?”

Posy nodded.

“Then I’ll be sure to do that. In the meantime would you like to help make a garland? There aren’t any pink leaves, but there are other pretty colors.”

Posy reached into the bowl and pulled out a red one. “Can I do this one?”

“Of course. Let me show you.”

Effie demonstrated with a different leaf then watched Posy’s small fingers peel and cut the tape and use it to add her chosen leaf to the copper wire.

“How’s that?” the girl asked.

The tape was crooked. The leaf was crooked, and it didn’t fall in line with the pattern. Effie considered telling her so. Aemilia Trinket certainly would have. And for that reason if no other, Effie said to the five-year/old, “That’s wonderful, dear.”

Posy beamed. “You’re nice. You’re not scary at all! I’m gonna go tell Rory that he’s wrong.” She hopped out of the chair and skipped away, turning around long enough to say, “I’ll be back!”

Effie watched her go, not knowing quite what to think. Rory?... She couldn’t remember who that was. One of the Hawthorne boys?

“This year would have been Rory’s first reaping,” Delly explained.

Effie didn’t need to hear anything more in order to understand. The truth split her heart. Half of it dropped like lead into her stomach. The other half rose up into her throat, threatening to choke her.

The children are afraid of me.

Even without a reaping ball in front of me, they are still afraid.

In that moment, she didn’t have time or space to process the realization. She just sat there, forcing a smile, trying to keep the vacant feeling in her chest from showing on her face. As volunteers streamed into the dining hall, she swallowed the lump in her throat, pressed her palm to her stomach, and directed the project as planned.

More children arrived giggling and singing, 🎶”Come live with me and be my love...”🎶 It was the beginning of District 4’s wedding song, which they’d started learning in school. 🎶”...I'll take you out upon the sea...”🎶 drew them into conversation about how the ocean might look, feel, sound, smell, and taste. None of them had ever been to the seashore. They’d only seen it in books.

🎶”...To share the starry night with you...” 🎶 intrigued them too. Some of the children from 12 tried to describe the stars to the kids from 13 who had never been above ground at night. “A star is like the tip of the flame of a candle that never flickers.”... “They just pop out in the sky as it’s changing from blue to black.”... “My grandma says stars are ghosts that come to visit us at night. Good ghosts, not scary ones.”... “Ghosts ain’t real.”... “Are so!”... “Are not!”

Dozens of adults were there to cut wire and strips of tape for the younger children and to ensure the garlands turned out beautifully.

With so many helping hands, Effie had to let go of her precise plans. The work of other artisans became apparent as some patterns emerged which were even more pleasing than what Plutarch and Effie envisioned.

Boggs showed up, carrying his son on his hip. The boy seemed younger than Posy, though Effie was far from an expert about children under 12. Boggs sat at a table with the boy in his lap. The little one reached for the leaves just as Boggs’ communicuff started flashing wildly. “Damon, buddy, President Coin is calling. I’ve just lost my break time. I’m going to need to take you back to daycare, but maybe Miss Trinket will let you take one of the leaves with you?” Boggs gave Effie a pleading look. The last thing he needed just then was an upset kid.

Damon’s big brown eyes welled up with tears. He wiped them away with the backs of his hands which were filled with leaves that he didn’t want to let go. Since the epidemic, Boggs and his son had been on their own. Looking into those teary eyes, Effie couldn’t help but feel for them. The feeling seeped into that empty space in her chest, and eased a bit of the void.

“Your son can stay awhile, if you’d like. Then I can take him back to daycare.”

“Are you sure? He’s a handful, and you have a lot going on here.”

Seeing herself in the moment as “scary ghost” rather than a star, Effie definitely was NOT sure that she was the right person to be looking after a young child. “Of course, I’m sure,” she spoke through her smiling mask.

“What do you say, buddy? Do you want to stay with Miss Trinket and make a garland, or do you want me to take you back to daycare now?”

“It’s Effie. The only one who calls me Miss Trinket around here is Mr. Heavensbee.” She laughed.

Damon climbed down from Boggs’ lap and up into Effie’s. “Oh! Well, hello,” she said, pushing her chair back far enough to make room for him. He was heavier than he’d looked in the strong arms of his father. He squirmed around reaching for everything at once: more leaves of every shape and color, scissors...

Boggs’ eyes widened.

Effie handed Damon a roll of tape in trade for the scissors. “You can hold the tape, and I’LL do the cutting.”

‘Thank you,’ Boggs mouthed the words then told his son, “This is an important job, soldier. Effie is your commanding officer. Are you going to take this work seriously and mind what she tells you to do?”

“Yeth, thir, Daddy, thir!” His lisp melted Effie’s heart.

“At ease, little man. I’ll pick you up from daycare at 18:00.” Boggs kissed his son’s forehead, and Damon was already hard at work attempting to peel tape off the roll.

As Effie helped the boy put leaves on the wire, Posy returned, accompanied by one of her brothers who hurried to claim an open seat next to Cord. Posy skipped up to Effie and patted her head. “I got Vick to come, but Rory’s stubborn. YOU know how boys can be.”

Effie looked up from the table to see Haymitch leaning against a pillar near the edge of the dining hall. He was watching her closely. The expression on his face was a loaded mix of curiosity and seriousness.

“Yes, I do know how boys can be,” Effie agreed, “Especially when they are afraid.”

Haymitch had never seen Effie around little kids, and he was fascinated. The Hawthorne girl chattered on and on, tucking leaf stems into the top knot of Effie’s kerchief. Boggs’ kid was in Effie’s lap, crushing leaves with his hands and unwrapping tape for her to cut with scissors. A girl Haymitch didn’t recognize sat to the side, touching Effie’s bracelet. “Is this silver and gold?” the kid asked.

“This s costume jewelry,” Effie answered.

“What’s ‘costume’?” the girl wanted to know.

“A costume is... something you might wear when you are... pretending.”

The Hawthorne girl said to the other one, “You can wear one of my pink ribbons sometime, and we can pretend to be twins... if Effie finds my ribbons in 12 tomorrow.”

Effie locked eyes with Haymitch. “I promised I’d look, Posy, but please don’t get your hopes up, dear.”

He was trying to make sense of the situation. Effie’s going to 12 tomorrow? Why? And why is nobody telling me anything! Pissed off, he started to walk away.

“Excuse me, girls. Damon, let’s go talk to Haymitch for a few minutes.” Effie stood up, holding the boy on her hip as Boggs had done. “Haymitch! Wait...” She caught up to him before the staircase. If he’d really wanted to avoid her, he would have already been long gone.

“What are you thinking!?” he asked, unsure of what he was wondering about most... Why was Effie going to 12 where the burned corpses of his people were still rotting? Why didn’t she tell him about her plans? And what the hell was his heart doing as he watched her with those little kids?

“Annie needs help selecting one of Cinna’s dresses for the wedding, and Katniss asked if I could go with them for support. So, of course, I said yes. ...Not that I owe you an explanation.”

“You owe me nothing, sweetheart. But it’s bad there. You’re going to see things that’ll change you.”

“I’m already changing.” She boosted the kid up on her hip. “There’s nothing I can do to stop that. ...And I don’t think I want to stop it.”

Damon dropped the leaves and rubbed his eyes. “Are you tired... buddy?” Effie hesitantly used one of Boggs’ nicknames for the boy. He shook his head ‘no’, but rubbed his eyes again. “How about we take these leaves to daycare so you can show your daddy?”

Damon nodded and opened his hands to the floor where the leaves had fallen. Haymitch bent to pick them up and handed them back to the kid. He stood close to them. Effie smelled like the woods, faintly like ginger, and mostly like her. The fragrances helped him feel less agitated. They were familiar, as if less was changing all at once.

“Thank you,” she said about the leaves, “Will you please tell Delly where I’m going and ask her to stay until I return?”

“Sure”

She rested her palm on Haymitch’s shirt where his sweater gaped open. She brushed her fingertips along the buttons. “Will YOU stay until I return? I could really use your help hanging these garlands in Special Defense.”

Her touch felt too good for him to say no.

The peace in his expression was answer enough for her.

As he watched her walk away, a smile crept over his face. He was far too amused to remind Effie that the Hawthorne girl had embellished her head wrap with at least a dozen leaves. In all the years, it was the best *wig* he’d seen her wear. If she was going to roam around 13 looking like a tree, then who was he to stop her?

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punkscowardschampions · 3 years ago

Text

Ava & James

Ava: [Picture of this invite]

Ava: That was unexpected?

James: Yes, it is rather

Ava: Did you give her my address?

Ava: Not intending to sound accusatory there, it would be relatively easy for her to find

James: she definitely didn’t get it from me, that would have given us both some warning that she was planning to invite you, which was clearly not her intent

Ava: I didn’t think you would just give it and then no warning, so yeah

Ava: Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice that she thought of me though

James: I’m not sure it is nice, but perhaps I’m being paranoid

Ava: It did come as a surprise mostly due to how well our interactions went at Mattie’s party

Ava: She’s your sister, you’d know better than I would either way

James: unfortunately I do, but the RSVP is your decision either way

Ava: Well I don’t want to make things awkward for you by doing what I’m not meant to

Ava: Do you think she expects me to turn up?

James: she’s counting on you feeling obligated to, if only for my sake

Ava: Is there something you’d rather I do?

Ava: Or shall I just think about it, from what I would want to do without factoring in you or her and the rest of your family?

James: in all honesty, I’m equally as tempted to suggest you suffer through it so she has nothing to complain about as I am to trust my judgement that there’s no feasible benefit for you in attending

Ava: Hmm

Ava: I don’t mind going

Ava: There’s no logic in spoiling her own baby shower for my benefit

Ava: I can handle being the odd one out or however awkward it may be if it means not having something to hold against you at a later date

James: I suppose if our suspicions are proved in any way correct you can just leave & you’d have definite allies in awkwardness & feeling left out in both Allegra & Cressida, I have a feeling they won’t handle their invites half as well given neither has any choice but to be there

Ava: I can’t imagine suddenly having a step mum who was only a decade ish older than me

Ava: That must be an adjustment

James: they have my sympathies, Diana won’t have eased the transition as much as she could have

Ava: I’m sure it was strange for her too, at first

Ava: but it’s not as if it’s been a total whirlwind

Ava: I better start looking for appropriate blue attire

Ava: and a gift that’ll pass muster

James: she’s the adult allegedly, who stepped into this new role in their lives willingly, they haven’t had any say in the matter, the least she could do is behave according to said role instead of expecting them to adore & respect her immediately with no effort on her part

James: it’s the beginning of a rant I’m aware it’s too late to have, even if she were a receptive listener

James: but if you would like a shopping partner, I’ll check my calendar under no duress whatsoever

Ava: I agree, and would be happy to listen if it’s a rant you ever want to have in full

Ava: despite me not being the desired/required audience really

Ava: I mean, we’ve all seen the set-up before

Ava: They’ll either drive her mad first or he’ll get a new new model, that’s the cynical approach we’ve been taught to adopt, anyway

Ava: Thanks 🙃 I’ll let you know if anything in my wardrobe is working

James: it’s an approach her husband has been happy to follow through with

James: I’d be much happier, however, to discuss the set-up of the photoshoot that’ll be necessary as you investigate the suitability of your wardrobe as well as my desire to be the intended audience

Ava: I’d be happiest if you could be photographer but I’ll do my best to fulfil that desire solo

Ava: Serious question, are the guests going to be like, mostly your sister’s age, or her husband’s age

Ava: Because that changes everything

James: maybe I could be

James: hers, without question, there are no women her husband’s age allowed in either of their circles, they cease to be socially relevant after 35, my mother aside

Ava: Really? 😗

Ava: Duh, I should’ve known that

Ava: as long as I keep the faux pas between us it’ll be fine

James: I wouldn’t call it a faux pas that your mind doesn’t work in the same manner as theirs

Ava: Maybe the attempt is to show me how out of my depth I am?

James: I wouldn’t like to hazard a guess at what she is trying to attempt here, because as you’ve already said, her baby shower hardly seems the appropriate place to do so & yet

Ava: Sorry, I’m not going to say I’ll go, then worry about it the whole time

Ava: Whatever her potential intentions, I’ve decided mine

Ava: and I’m more interested in potentially seeing you today?

James: as you quite rightly should be

James: [tell her when you are and aren’t free today sir]

Ava: Okay, so I’ll save all my best outfits for [a time] then

James: if you’ve decided your intentions with regards to me & then

Ava: Mini Stepford wife isn’t very sexy

Ava: safe to say my intentions for then are

Ava: and if you don’t know my intentions with you by now, I probably need to pick up a pen or typewriter too

James: I need to pick you up as soon as possible is what I know

Ava: Please do

Ava: I need your discerning eye to help me, obviously

James: of course

Ava: I love you

James: I love you too, so much

James: the second everything with the house is finalised & I don’t have to be in constant contact with the owners I intend to take you somewhere far away from my entire family, I promise

Ava: Where do you want to go?

Ava: If we could go anywhere

James: as long as there are several feet of snow, I’ll be inspired & content

Ava: You are the cutest

Ava: but you picked the right time of year for it

Ava: now I’m not looking for listings I can look at Cabins and Ski Lodges 😍

James: blushing being your thing isn’t the only reason I’d prefer the possibility of shivering but it’s a very important factor nonetheless

Ava: Your cheeks will have the chance to get rosy in plenty of other ways and I won’t be mad at all

Ava: I haven’t been skiing in a long while

James: me either, on both counts

Ava: Not to mention so many of the trips people planned never involved much skiing anyway 🙄

Ava: It’ll be more fun with you

James: I recognise that experience & that I’ll have a much better one with you

Ava: Right answer 😋

James: any other answer would be a lie & not even one which spares your feelings

Ava: I trust you

Ava: [a hilariously inappropriate outfit choice]

Ava: You trust me too, yeah?

James: I’m pleased to hear it, because despite the pen being mightier, I’m not sure it would suffice if you don’t trust me by now

James: your sense of humour does have me wishing I was currently sat at a typewriter though

Ava: There’s no more you need to say, or write, you’ve shown why I can over and over

Ava: We can take one and make it a real retreat

James: right answer

Ava: [Wanna skip to the day of this shitshow baby?]

James: [why not, we know that’s why we’re really here, I like to think he dropped her off even though there’s no need because a nice throwback to when they literally had to spend whatever moments they could together in cars, but obvs that’s before Chlo got there]

Ava: [That’s cute, and you can drop your presents off to this snake sister]

James: [literally your last chance to tell him you invited his ex missus but okay babe don’t bother yet again]

Ava: [seriously, you must’ve thought she weren’t showing by now, think again]

James: [fashionably late but looking a state actually]

Ava: [you’ve had months to slay this lmao, gurl]

James: [who in the hell is this new bloke and what’s his damage tbh]

Ava: [I vibe that for it to last he has to be as crazy as she is, which bodes well for their kids, hence it’ll probably be interesting for Mattie to go find them]

James: [yeah I definitely think that should be one of her storylines]

Ava: [anyway, let me do this]

Ava: Okay

Ava: I don’t want to just do this like this

Ava: but I don’t think a call will make it any better, really

Ava: plus why am I going outside or whatever, right

Ava: but Chloe just walked in

Ava: not a poor attempt at humour, or some kind of early sign of a fever, she really did

James: Oh

James: you did the right thing, I’d rather that Jay didn’t overhear even one side of that hypothetical phone call

Ava: Exactly, I know you’re all out right now, I would never want to do that

Ava: I don’t want to, at all

Ava: If telling you after, once I left, seemed like a good idea, I would have gone for that

Ava: but the fact you didn’t know to tell me, that you didn’t know, full stop

Ava: It felt unfair for me to also keep up the secrecy, not something I wanted a part in

Ava: Your sister seems… Surprised. But not, ‘it’s been half a year and you’ve shown up totally unannounced’, surprised

Ava: Your mum couldn’t contain her actual shock though, that I am sure of, from the brief look she gave Diana alone

James: I'm sorry, Ava

James: are you leaving now?

Ava: Do you need me to?

Ava: I could come find you, if you want

James: I need her to, but it’s unlikely I’ll get my own way

Ava: She’s

Ava: I can’t believe she’s done this

Ava: Doing this

James: I can believe she’d show up, but not that my own sister would invite her to do so

Ava: I don’t understand, either

Ava: I’d love to ask

Ava: among other questions for Chloe

Ava: but I won’t

James: you’d be perfectly entitled to, under the circumstances

Ava: I’m not letting her suggest I’m speaking for you

James: I know, you’re the one reliable certainty in all this

Ava: It’s clear she already came here to lie

Ava: even she couldn’t show up and admit she’s made 0 attempts to contact the girls, or even ask about them

James: my mother must be holding her tongue valiantly to avoid pointing any of those discrepancies out

Ava: She shouldn’t

Ava: and I won’t if she plans to do it within earshot

Ava: there’s not confronting her and then there’s letting her spread a false narrative unchecked and unopposed

Ava: defence isn’t attack, whatever she claims

James: my family’s love of a false narrative has been well documented within the earshot of the entire postcode, any necessary private confrontation will, of course, be left down to me, like it or not

Ava: She knows this isn’t true though

Ava: Diana bloody knows

James: yes, but she concerns herself with honesty even less than Diana does, or anyone else I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting

Ava: I’m so sorry, that she’s doing this

James: it’s not your apology, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry that my sister invited you there to witness everything my ex wife is going to do

Ava: Try to do

Ava: She isn’t going to get away with it, I swear

James: you don't have to promise me anything

Ava: The truth always comes out

Ava: and you have the call and text history to prove it if anyone actually believed her

Ava: She’s just bringing entertainment, and that’s all people who have no real stake in any of this care about, and they’ll be bored and onto the next before she achieves anything

Ava: If you were even half as bad as she says, why would a decent mother leave her kids with you?

Ava: They wouldn’t and she isn’t, even her fake story has her in a bad light

Ava: Just not as bad as what she really did and what really happened to you and the girls, now and for all the years before

James: whether or not the actual truth comes out or if her particular brand of it remains what's taken as truth, you & I both know what really happened

James: my priority right now is protecting the girls from what she has already done & whatever else she is intending to do for the duration of her return, however long that will be

Ava: And they are all that matters

Ava: I can totally respect that is how it is for you

Ava: And I can see how they are the top priority, regardless of any other factors

Ava: but I do care about how this is affecting you, or could, will

Ava: you know that

James: of course I do & I care just as much about how it could or would impact you, despite knowing full well you can handle any of those effects

Ava: I’m angrier than I could ever be capable of being upset right now, there’s no room for it in my head yet

Ava: but that’s definitely a good thing because if I do start thinking about the potential hurt she could do to the girls with this, I will have to leave or

Ava: just no

Ava: She hasn’t mentioned them once

Ava: not even as a point score

James: whenever you're ready to leave, we'll all be delighted to see you

Ava: Thank you

James: it doesn't feel selfless enough to deserve thanks, particularly when I think about having to engage her in conversation once the champagne has worn off

Ava: You don’t have to come here and pick me up

Ava: and you don’t have to talk to her today

Ava: it’s not as if she has bothered to tell you she’s here

James: no, unless she’s altered her drinking habits whilst being at the villa I won’t be talking to her today, but I’ll pick you up if you want

Ava: Oh she’s certainly celebrating like it’s her baby shower

Ava: I can make my way back to the flat, it’s not too far, I’m fine, promise

James: the only way this could be worse is if that was an announcement she came back to reveal

James: I’m sure you can, nevertheless this has been a horrific surprise & I don’t like to think of you making your own way anywhere to then sit alone with every daunting ‘what if’ & ‘why’ to process when you don’t have to

Ava: Not quite

Ava: I don’t know if it’ll even be pertinent

Ava: but she has ‘subtly’ dropped plenty of loud hints about a new man

Ava: and you’re right, I’m just trying not to be another problem or worry for you to have to think about, but being stubborn about this would do just that

Ava: Whenever you’re ready to come get me, do, I’ll be ready

James: okay, if I drop enough loud hints of my own that we’re on our way to rescue you, Jay is bound to hurry up

Ava: How has your outing been, up until this point?

James: we have had a lovely time with no apparent foreshadowing, which I suppose is appropriate because when I commit this to paper in an effort to understand it, our readers will also be left feeling equally cheated to discover no written warning forthcoming, & there will be some ease in the act, at least, in not to having to think up & in turn add a satisfactory plot device where the source material had none

Ava: Her lack of interest in making the story make sense is in character, if nothing else

Ava: Frustrating and angering and

Ava: Well

Ava: Contempt for the truth at least shows she knows, on some level, that she’s in the wrong, right?

James: hopefully, yes, but as you said, there's a definite losing battle in trying to make sense of her motivations at the best of times & we're far from there at the moment

Ava: I know

Ava: It’s worrying

Ava: Her parents can’t like… make her get some help?

Ava: I know that never works but it might

James: even more worryingly, they can't make her do anything

Ava: Hmm

Ava: I can sense that

James: it wouldn't surprise me if she hasn't told them she's back either

Ava: Jesus

Ava: Whatever hotel she’s booked whilst she’s here will be on them though

James: along with her flights, cars & everything else

James: maybe I should call them in case they don't learn of her whereabouts until she posts baby shower photos

Ava: It would be decent of you, though it shouldn’t be your call to be decent on her behalf

Ava: wouldn’t blame you if you didn't

James: performing tasks or behaving a certain way on her behalf did become second nature to me

Ava: That’s only logical

Ava: When there was so much she wouldn’t do herself, that she should or needed to be done

Ava: You had to step up for two

James: but now there is no longer a need to project the false united front & it's a habit I have to break

Ava: In this case, it isn’t a bad thing you care about their feelings

Ava: bizarre that you do more than her, but still, bizarre by how little she does

Ava: Do what YOU think is right

Ava: Don’t consider her at all, in the things that is a possibility

James: you're right, I will

James: thank you

Ava: This is not ideal, we both know that

Ava: but she hasn’t mentioned any permanent plans to stay or anything like that

Ava: but whatever she does, this will be okay, we’ll work it out, you will

James: I appreciate your belief in my ability to handle this, I hope you know that as well

Ava: I do

Ava: on both counts

James: then yes, it’ll be okay

James: I promise we are on our way to collect you, just bear with me while I call her parents

Ava: Take as long as you need

Ava: Initial shock over… as much as it can be

Ava: I don’t need Chloe thinking I can’t handle her

James: [please do phone them in case they don't know and see those posts then come back]

James: you don't need to worry about what she thinks

Ava: [can you bloody imagine lmao]

Ava: Not about me, never

James: on any subject

Ava: Diana’s step daughters have behaved more maturely

James: I'd feel confident in predicting Jay also has, over the course of the day

Ava: and she only had like, three tantrums, right? 😏

James: I couldn't possibly give you the tally, lest you tell Frank & provoke an even worse reaction

Ava: 🤫🤐

Ava: He’ll never know

Ava: he’s definitely had the best day of us all 😴🥩🥎😴

James: I'm happy to hear his criteria has been met, but I'll be ecstatic if I can do the same for yours

Ava: My criteria is slightly different but I’d take 😴🥩🥎😴 at a push

James: I'd rather you decided to elaborate than compromise

Ava: I only need the one emoji

James: oh really?

Ava: Mhmm

Ava: I won’t ask you to guess

James: are you sure? It wouldn't be much of a hypothetical perfect day if you couldn't ask whatever you like of me

Ava: I don’t need hypothetical or real perfect

James: you don't have to need something for me to want to offer it to you

Ava: All I need from you, is you

James: wouldn't you like to forget about all this?

Ava: Is that possible?

James: I'll be finding out as you do

Ava: Okay

James: so where is this fool's errand taking us?

Ava: Well 🤔 what helps people forget that isn’t champagne

Ava: 🌳🎞📚🖼💚 as your day out was cut somewhat short

James: okay, I'll of course start us off with 📚

James: I suggest we let the girls pick 🌳 or 🖼 because of their awful taste in 🎞 but I'll let you make your own decision before I mention any of this to either of them

Ava: Harsh 😅

Ava: but I’ve sat through enough films that aren’t Twilight to know you’re not lying

Ava: I’ve missed you today, all of you

James: we've missed you too, especially me, even though you've ruined me for any & all films but Twilight

Ava: At least you also have the perfect soundtrack for the 💔

James: it'll work just as well for the traffic we end up stuck in

Ava: Where would we be without the traffic, help or hindrance

James: personally, I’ve recently had more positive associations with it & where I would be without those is inconceivable to me

Ava: I feel the same

James: I’ve really missed you today

Ava: I wouldn’t wish this particular event on you, especially with the unexpected bonus of Chloe

Ava: but it’s better doing things with you, the stuff we don’t want to particularly do included, even if they’re not as nice as the good things

James: I would’ve come with you, in spite of her arrival & because of, had I been allowed

James: she isn’t someone you should have to deal with on your own, not when we made the choices that contributed to her disappearance together

Ava: She’s got enough blame for the both of us, definitely

Ava: but I can’t see anyone seriously buying it…

Ava: anyway, we know how it was

James: yes we do & you’ve never doubted what I’ve said the truth was, anyone who takes her word instead is the least of my worries, because they clearly have their own

Ava: Exactly

Ava: and maybe I could take the homewrecker bit more seriously if she was making any effort to fight for any of you

Ava: not that you’re even asking her to fight to see the girls 🙄

James: precisely

James: tomorrow I’ll be the one fighting against her clear reluctance to spend time with them & then again to ensure Jay doesn’t overhear that she’s back when that plan inevitably fails

Ava: Of course

Ava: There’s no need to do that

Ava: it’s bad enough without the anxiety of waiting, not to mention the potential disappointment

Ava: If she comes, she comes

Ava: When Jay is a bit older, it might be better for Chloe to have to arrange it with her herself, but not yet

James: from experience it would be better if she refuses to come, I couldn’t get her to feign even the slightest interest when they were both living in the same house, occupying the same rooms, she’s unlikely to if she has to put herself out to meet us

James: & it was one thing to tell Jay when we move into the new house mummy isn’t living with us, it’s quite another to try & explain she doesn’t want to visit her anywhere at any time, or worse still, to have her agree to do that & behave worse than the children themselves

Ava: It’s so bloody difficult

Ava: because that is true, or does seem to be true, from all the available past experience you shared and behaviour she’s exhibited then and since

Ava: but it’s unfair to leave the onus on you to ever have to have that conversation with Jay, and Mattie, when you can

Ava: it shouldn’t be one you should ever have to have

Ava: but the reality is, it might be, parents leave, and the parent who stays has to do the lion’s share and then some, dealing with whatever the deserter has left in their wake…

Ava: we’re just programmed to be far more shocked and appalled when that parent is the mother, not the father

Ava: but it is shocking, and can in some cases be appalling, regardless of role and gender, I’ve seen it within my own family

Ava: but in others, I’ve seen it is ultimately for the best, and to have that parent around would make life worse, if they had chosen to be involved

James: you said yourself she hasn’t expressed any desire to stay & her parents weren’t prepared for the eventuality when I spoke to them, our instinct that this is a short visit is the one I trust in right now & the one I’m readying myself & the girls for

James: whether or not she engages with them tomorrow, the reality is, her parenting has only ever been performative & taking a picture of or with them in response to comments she receives under the ones from today isn’t going to trick Jay into thinking they’ve spent quality time together the way it did when she was younger, she may already have questions I’m struggling to find appropriate answers for, but I know expecting her mother to supply them would be disastrous & I can do better than that

James: what has happened so far has been for the best, I don’t know what possessed my sister to send that invitation & jeopardize things

Ava: I hope she intends to explain, as well as apologize

Ava: Whatever she was thinking, it’s safe to say it’s backfired, unless her intention was to cause potential harm to her own niece

Ava: which you have to hope was not

Ava: All you can do is all you can do

Ava: Chloe is going to do, or not do, whatever she wants, that’s apparent

Ava: Jay’s fast approaching an age where she won’t engage with that performativeness and I don’t think anyone will blame her if she decides not to

Ava: Then Chloe will have to decide if she is actually going to try or not

James: I love you for being the type of person to sincerely write out & send that message when it’s unfortunately as apparent we can’t really hold out any such hope for Diana’s character, regardless of what’s happened, she’ll be steadfast in her conviction her intentions were good & she was right

James: all I can do is expect less than nothing from either of them, at this point

Ava: If it wasn’t her baby shower, your mum might have beat me to confronting her on it

James: perhaps there’s some hope for my mother yet

Ava: Perhaps

Ava: or she was just livid to be caught out of the loop, who’s to say really

James: realistically yes, I think we can say it’s the latter

Ava: They’re not invited on our redux day out regardless so

James: speaking of, we’re finally here

Ava: Yay 🙌🙌 I’ll make my excuses and be right out

James: take as much time as you need, I know what my family & sister’s friends are like

Ava: I’d love to see them pretend they’re dying for me to stay, honestly

James: as long as you’re expecting a performance on a par with the lowest-rated children’s film in place of one from the Twilight saga

Ava: 😏 you’ll make me laugh, which might help my own performance

James: oh good, I’d love nothing more than to grant you the fastest possible exit

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diveronarpg · 4 years ago

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Congratulations, SCAR! You’ve been accepted for the role of CRESSIDA. Admin Julie: Scar, your app for Celeste was phenomenal. You had us hooked from the first plot in a way that we loved. You demonstrated through both your prose and plots that Celeste is a multifaceted woman with many masks, capable of cruelty and kindness in one without even knowing it -- something we often look for in portrayals but don't always find. Your emphasis on her own personal selfishness was a cherry on top of the cake, too, a breath of fresh air, a reminder that not everyone in Verona is for the greater good. Some people, like Celeste, are only trying to survive; you demonstrated that beautifully. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Alias | Scar.

Age | 22.

Preferred Pronouns | She/her.

Activity Level | I should be good to hop on two-four times a week for replies and I’m generally available for chatting on Discord.

Timezone | MST.

IN CHARACTER

Character | Celeste Duval / Cressida

What drew you to this character? | Celeste is wholly representative of her name. She’s made of stars and moonshine, of infinitely growing forces trapped by bone and flesh. We romanticize the stars and gaze upon them in all their glory but fail to acknowledge the birth of one is one of the most violent things that can happen in the universe. And that’s the same story with Celeste. We can fall in love with her and her starry eyes and dazzling personality but we’re blind to the annihilation that’s tucked behind her molars and the poison that laces her honeyed words. She’s a representation of all our strongest feelings— love and anger, fear and confidence, lust and disgust— intertwined and mangled to the point of not knowing where one emotion ends and the next begins. Characters who are cold and detached are the ones perceived as the biggest threats but really, what is more dangerous than hot-blooded emotion?

Celeste has always been too much, too curious for her own good, rising above her place, her gender, demanding in the way that was only accustomed to the boy kings, slamming their tiny fists on the table and asserting their power, their wealth, their gender. No one knew what to do when it came from Celeste. Her father gave up on her the moment he realized he couldn’t control her, and her mother quickly followed suit. But she wouldn’t be so easily spurned. She’s brilliant, was the thing. Power has surged through her veins from the moment she realized she was a woman in a man’s world. She’s learned to compensate for her delicate features and by being so lethal that she couldn’t be ignored. Her intelligence has been sharpened to a point, carefully tucked away beneath girlish laughs and an effervescent smile. She’s as cunning as her father and twice as subtle and this is perhaps where his resentment of her lay: he had condemned her to a life of mediocracy and she had looked him in the eye to be anything but.

Her bones are made of diamond — made of wrath and jealousy and spite and scorn — but her heart is soft and that is perhaps her greatest strength and her greatest weakness. She’s been groomed to be cynical through the environment she was raised in but her heart is untouched. There are moments when she wishes to let the cruelest parts of her take hold but her heart will deny that pleasure, favouring to neatly fold that pain and tuck it away in the back of her head— a momento. The beating organ works as a filter, combing through the pain to find slivers of humanity to ground her. She allows tears to freely cascade over soft cheeks and laughs so loud that the room shakes. She dances naked under the moonlight without a care in the world and smashes fine china against marble countertops at the slightest inconvenience. Her heart is a wild and unstable organ and that is why she’s akin to the stars.

God truly is a woman and she comes in the form of Celeste Duval.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character?

I AM THE KNIFE THAT WILL SLAUGHTER HEAVEN | At twenty-three years old, does anyone really know who they are or what they’re doing with their life? Celeste, I believe, is no exception to this. She’s twenty-three years old and her whole life has been laid out for her. Yet somehow, she’s managed to spit in the face of everyone and everything and walk away with a cherry-sweet smile. She’s had a childhood that calcified her bones into diamond and walked into a position that sharpened her teeth into daggers. She’s filled with a childish, bullish swagger that really only twenty-three years olds can possess and she’s made it work for her. In her rise to power, she’s made enemies, and she’s stepped over corpses to get where she is. She’s manipulated people and hurt them and she has never paid such cruelty much mind. In her head, she’s had to endure it her whole life, so why shouldn’t they? And then it all came to bite her in the ass.

I think this journey is going to be the most interesting part of Celeste’s story to explore. A girl who had nothing but her own mind to keep her warm; she built herself into a skyscraper only to be the reason she herself lost everything. I think she so desperately clings to the structure she’s created for herself that when the beams start to break and the foundation starts to crack, she sticks bandaids on it and prays it away. Blurring the lines of this strong, powerful woman that she’s scripted into her bones contrasting the scared, little girl that rests at her core is going to be something that bleeds together and becomes nothing more than a mess of a woman. Is she on a slow descent to which rock bottom is the destination or will she scrounge together the ambition akin to her name and slip her way out of life’s razor-sharp hold? Will she snap after being used and abused for so much of her life or continue living with a noose around her neck?

This plot is centred around Celeste finding her own identity through both who she is at her core and the persona that she’s created for herself. It’s about navigating through her crashing waves of emotion in a tiny sailboat and solidifying who she is in this world. Celeste has done an exceptional job of sweeping things under the rug. Her parents— deal with it later. Her marriage — deal with it later. Yet now, it is later and I’d like to explore her actually having to come to terms with all of it.

ABSOLUTE POWER CORRUPTS ABSOLUTELY | Despite unwillingly joining the mob, Celeste has manifested what she wants: power and influence. Perhaps she doesn’t have the same commanding presence as some of her peers, especially given her whimsical nature, but she stands in the ranks with a sure-footedness that comes from knowing how to wield her weapons. She holds the title of emissary and she takes pride in what she does. She’s spent her life yielding to men and their desires that it only made sense to spin it into gold. This plot is focussed on Celeste reclaiming her power and has two central ideas: deciding how much of it she gives to the mob and how much of it she gives to Easton.

I don’t believe Celeste has any true loyalty to the Montagues. She is truly only loyal to herself, a selfish trait she’s sure must have been passed down by her father. Living a life of obligation has fitted her into her role in the mob but like she had done in the role of daughter, of wife, she broke free of the box she had been slotted in and it’s only a matter of time before she breaks her role in the mob. Like her namesake, Cressida is synonymous with betrayal so I believe loyalty is an integral aspect of her character that I’d like to explore. Whether it be at the hands of Easton or of her own volatile will, I believe Celeste will eventually tug too hard at the strings that bind her to the Montagues and fall from the heavens straight to the pits of hell. Celeste herself, has always stood confidently in the morally grey area– having to choose to remain loyal to the Montagues versus willingly double-crossing them is something I’d like to explore in time. Because to openly betray them means to free herself of Easton’s chains but also means to subject herself to purgatory for the rest of her life.

Specifically in regards to Easton, the villain of her story, I’d like to see her fight back. Perhaps not directly but in the form of getting close to him without getting close to him. Befriending his friends, finding his weakness so she can rip out his heart and consume it whole. Her ambition is perhaps her greatest strength, so I’d like to see her really in the weeds with this one; making under-the-table deals, initiating secret arrangements, holding out bribes, the works. She’s got a knack for fluttering her lashes and playing the naive little girl so if it means burrowing her way between the ribcage of a couple Capulets to weasel her way into Easton’s life, so be it. In addition, I’d like to see her potentially reaching out to someone in the Montague ranks as a “mentor” under the guise of wanting to expand her repertoire of deadly skills to figure out how she can finally put an end to Easton’s story.

I RIP APART THE INSTRUMENTS OF MY IMPRISONMENT | Celeste looked up to her father from the day she was born and with every fibre of her being, craved his love. Never once did she receive it, and she watched on bitterly as he ignored her and berated her. All these years later, she claims she’s over it, but has Celeste really ever gotten over anything in her whole life? No. Even if she can’t admit it, she needs approval with a desperation she finds sickening and if she was able to cut out that piece of her soul, she would. I think this would translate into her position in the mob— craving the approval from superiors and peers. Breaking free is a recurring theme in Celeste’s life and it was born in removing herself from her father’s stifling hold.

There are two elements of this plot— the first is exploring her stepping out from her father’s shadow and reclaiming the Duval name. What did she have to do to achieve that? How has it changed people’s perceptions of her and her family name? Do people look past her doe eyes and bouncy curls to see the venom underneath her tongue? Part of this journey includes her position as an emissary in the Montague ranks. I believe this goes above just using her sexuality for her own benefit and touches on the idea of sexual extortion— which is something to explore her own feelings about. Was it something that she naturally saw fit for herself or something that was coaxed upon her, whispers to play to her strengths echoing in her ear? Her sexuality was something she used to break free from the chains of her childhood and the journey of weaponizing it is something I think is integral to her character.

The second element ties into her destruction arc from the previous two plots, and her own made-up feeling of being rejected from the Montagues because of her silent betrayal. The desperation to be accepted and praised is what inspired her rise to power and it’s what keeps her fueled. I believe Celeste has the potential to be obsessed with trying to overcompensate for Easton’s blackmail because of the yearn of approval from her peers. This is inspired by her connection to Lawrence and the tension between them but I think while she’s contemplating her own loyalties to the mob, this doubt she has of Lawrence and his reciprocated distrust, I believe it would sow the seed of paranoia in her. While her internal struggle of loyalty plays out, this paranoia would take over everything and anyone who disagreed with her or tried to stop her, she would wonder if they knew of her deceit.

IN AGONY, IN LOVE, IN WORRY | Celeste has a healthy amount of tenderness for Tomas. It’s not love but maybe in another timeline it could be. He allows her to be whoever she desires to be and makes no attempt to change her, accepts every part of her without hesitation, and asks for nothing in return. Both of them are so full of feeling, two sides of the same coin that perhaps, if the circumstances were different, they could have been soulmates. But in this reality, she wields his affection like a sword, aimed directly at his own heart to keep him at bay. It’s only when she has the upperhand that she feels at ease and she knows as long as she holds his affections under lock and key, she will always have the upperhand. I think she can feign the love he craves, give into his desires just enough to satiate him and over times, playing the part has worn a hole in her ribcage just large enough for a trickle of softness to spill through.

But then there’s Isabella. Oh Isabella. All wildfire and passion, who truly brought meaning to the word love. I believe what Celeste has with them is an all-consuming love. Celeste’s whole heart belongs to Isabella and the strain of her marriage, of the mob, of Easton, has cast a shadow on the purest love, dimming it’s shine to a faint glow. But more than that, I believe a lot of Celeste’s personal choices will put a strain on her relationship with Isabella and they will put Celeste in a place where she’s forced to make the decision of how far she’ll go for this relationship. This potentially comes down to Celeste having to choose between the reputation and image she’s fashioned for herself and the true desires of her heart.

Ahh, both of these relationships I’m so invested in already but the destruction of both is so close I can almost taste it. I’d like to explore both of these relationships, Tomas and Isabella, and the rise and fall of it. The growing suspicion in her marriage and her attempts to smooth it over with Tomas while navigating the yearn for Isabella without allowing herself to fall completely head-over-heels.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes. :(

IN-DEPTH

001. | She didn’t quite know why she returned as often as she did. Perhaps it was the obligation that was sewn into her skin, tugging and pulling and reminding her whenever she moved. Perhaps it was the sheer pleasure she got out of seeing them grow old, the life slowly dwindling out of them until they would collapse in a pile of bones that she would use to feed her dogs.

“Shouldn’t you be in your own house?”

“I’m here for you, Papa.” The reply is curt and she doesn’t need to turn away from the stove to see the flare of his nostrils, the inability to accept help from anyone, let alone his worthless daughter.

“You think you’ll get this house?” A barking laughter falls from his lips, “Your favourite place in Verona, hm? Or is that the whorehouse?” The comment tries to grip onto her but her armour has been sanded to a perfectly smooth metal so it slides off, forming a puddle beneath her feet. Stupid man.

“Actually,” she replies airily, a sickly sweet smile painted on her face as she places the boiling cup in front of him, “It’s wherever they plan to bury you.” She offers him a glance and this time she relishes the flare of his nostrils.

002. | Morning light forces its way through the french windows, dark lashes fluttering as she roused from her sleep, amber curls tousled from a night of turning fitfully on a silk pillow. With a deep sigh, she turns in the satin sheets, an attempt to reclaim a couple moments of sleep. Before her lashes can press together, her gaze settles on Isabella laying next to her, eyes sparkling as their lips stretch into a smile.

“Good morning, mon chou.”

“So, I get you all to myself today, hm? Do I get to live through a typical day of Celeste Duval?” The other’s teasing smile reflects Celeste’s as she draws herself closer.

She let out a breathy laugh, closing it off with a firm kiss on the other’s lips. “A typical day, hm? So you want to spend the day with little ol’ moi? ” A manicured hand moves up to cup Isabella’s cheek, a kittenish smile pulling at her lips. “Well then we’ll spend the morning in bed.” A kiss on the cheek. “Order more than we can eat from the pâtisserie on main street…” A kiss on the temple. “Then get all done up for a day on the town. Maybe indulge in a bit of shopping.” Her fingers trail along the other’s lithe form, following the dips and curves of their body. “Then we’ll take a bath together— a bubble bath, of course, complete with the finest wine Italy has to offer.”

She leaves out the bloodbaths and the cheating and the blackmailing and the copious amounts of self-pity.

“Sounds nice, oui?”

003. | Velvet gloves press against the mahogany door, pushing it open to reveal the hundred saints staring down at her with accusatory glances, demanding to know why they died for her sins. She walked down the pews, one step at time, head never bowed, gaze never faltering. It had occurred to Celeste that perhaps her confession didn’t do her much good if she bore no remorse in committing. Yet the click of her heels echoed as she made her way to the confessional booth.

Her confession was a silent one. Not for a priest or clergy, but for her and God alone. Her eyes closed and her head finally lowered. What was her sin that she should confess to— her biggest mistake thus far in life? Was it breaking her promise to her husband or offering false hope to her lover? Was it praying each night the man who raised her would choke on his dinner just once and just die? Was it the way she wore the title of whore with a kittenish smile and a too-short hemline, or the way she relished the feeling of hot blood on her hands?

“Forgive me Father for I have sinned.”

Yet that was as far as she got before she was interrupted. Though it was not the glorious bells of the cathedral but rather the chiming that came from the Chanel bag at her feet. With that, she stood up and shrugged her bag back over her shoulder. The confession was still perched on the tip of her tongue and yet she no longer felt the weight of her sins on her shoulders.

004. | Her eyes are shining and wet. Her back straightens, and she fingers the fabric of her skirt, looking down at her shoes as he stands there in silence. There is nothing but silence as she tries to fathom what he is saying, and she nearly stumbles back, almost ashamed by his honesty. Why was he doing this? She was too bold, too brilliant, too breathtaking for a life of dim characters and colours. She was too good for this shit city and yet here he was, trying to cut her off at the knees.

He, on the other hand, is nothing special. If men were skyscrapers then he would be a faint grey building, flickering in the corner of the taller, angry rectangles dusting the clouds with their hats. If she were riding in an airplane down, she probably wouldn’t even be able to spot his shape. But he was hers and she was his and they were bound by an eternal string, fraying more and more by the minute.

I’ve never asked much of you, my love. His words echo in her ear, the one thing: to stay faithful to me. Surely that can’t have been the hardest task you’ve been asked of… Or is it?

“I don’t know who’s putting these vile thoughts in your head, my darling,” she coos, a reassuring hand, cupping his cheek. Her words are soft, but the slight undertone of frustration is simmering below the surface, threatening to spill over. “We’re married, aren’t we? Til death do we part.” And with that, she seals her vow with a saccharine kiss, the knot unclenching from her stomach as she felt him relax into her. A honeyed lie was better than a poisoned truth, wasn’t it?

005. | She was fixing herself tea in the parlour when the doorbell rang. She smoothed out her skirt — a silk dress hand-stitched with Egyptian cotton hugging her figure (custom-made for her by Saint Laurent), pearls decorating her décolletage (a wedding gift), and diamonds piercing her ears (well, those were just an indulgence). Even at home, she dressed for any occasion.

Standing before her is a man she’s come to hate, a man she’d go to bed every night praying he would drop dead. Easton Craven. Her cheeks are ruddy with the colour of shame, and as she lengthens herself, spitting at him in hushed tones.

“What the fuck are you doing here? I told you not to come to my house.”

He only smiles in return, pushing his way through the entrance and into the foyer of the manor. “Visiting a friend, of course. I’m rather upset you haven’t invited me over before.” He speaks with his back to her, stopping to gaze up at a painting decorating the wall. “Did Tomas pick this out?” The question mocks her and she has to bite her tongue.

She could kill him. The thought flits through her mind and solidifies itself at the front of her skull. She could kill him and claim self-defense; a home invasion turned on its head. Before the thought can even fully form itself, his lips curl upward into a cruel smirk. He knows she won’t do it. Not because she can’t but because they’re similar in this way. He wouldn’t have come here without a back-up, something to hold over her head even if he was lying dead, bleeding out on her Persian rug. So she smothers the thought and clears her throat expectantly.

“Now tell me, Celeste, what are your thoughts on this war? The Montagues, the Capulets— does any of it even mean anything to you? You’re so quick to betray that I really am curious what you think.”

“Go to hell,” she snarls back. He’s right though, it really doesn’t mean anything to her, and perhaps that’s the worst thing of all.

#accepted #accepted: cressida

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dracoisalooker76 · 6 years ago

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My Heart is Heavy - an Everlark!Bachelor-ish AU

I’m trash. I haven’t updated my fics in years but after watching The Bachelor last night (major spoilers below if you follow and know what the references are) I couldn’t unsee this little scenario. Sorry in advance. Maybe more to come.

Title comes from the Albert Camus quote: “Yes, be patient with me. My heart is heavy.”

...

My Heart is Heavy

She wasn’t supposed to be here. In what universe was Katniss Everdeen a contestant on The Bachelor?

This universe apparently. A universe where her nosy sister and her college roommate joined forces to submit her application. Prim thought Katniss needed love; Johanna thought Katniss needed to get laid. Regardless, they joined forces and for some reason the producers liked her look and the bio that the two had concocted without her knowledge. When she got the casting call, she figured they’d send her packing. She would do the audition process to appease Prim and get Jo off her back, but she would never get chosen. Somehow, the producers came back to her not a day after her final meeting with an acceptance. They probably figured she could be villain of the season - a surly, scowly girl bound to cause drama without even knowing what she was doing.

She really had no idea what she was doing. She didn’t know then. She didn’t know eight weeks ago when she first stepped out of a limo and stood face-to-face with Peeta Mellark. And she sure as hell doesn’t have a clue what is going on right now.

It is absolutely surreal. She just spent the entire day in Portugal with Peeta. Sweet, adorable Peeta, who took her to an old folks’ dance class where they spun with people who could be their grandparents, who didn’t speak a lick of English but smiled and pointed at them kindly, warmly, as if they were proud of these two random Americans with cameras following their every move. One woman, with curly gray hair that reminded her of Sae back home, danced with Peeta and pointed at Katniss - esposa? Esposa? And Peeta smiled that smile. The one that makes her stomach clench, a touch too shy not to be genuine, and met her eye.

“Maybe,” he told the woman. “If she’ll have me.”

And that’s when her stomach bottomed out.

She paces the floor of the extravagant 5-star hotel they’ve been staying in since they arrived a few days prior. Tonight is the infamous “Fantasy Suites” and on the way in from the airport, the other two contestants left - Glimmer from Alabama and California Cashmere - could not talk about anything other than what they were going to do to Peeta as soon as they got the key from the host, Caesar Flickerman.

I’ve heard great things about that mouth of his.

She takes a breath and continues to pace. Her poor producer has the camera trained on her as he sits on the couch. Pollux is quiet, but so is Katniss. They make a great pair - except for the fact that she’s sure they’re going to be hounding her for additional sound bites later because she and Pollux didn’t tape enough to fill her scenes.

There’s a knock on the door and she stops mid-step. Maybe it’s Caesar. Maybe Peeta decided to dump her before the evening portion of their one-on-one. She shakes her head. Peeta is too much of a gentleman for that. If he was going to send her home now, he would do it himself. Peeta has been nothing but honest this season - something some of the girls have been whining about behind his back. He hasn’t told any of the girls that he has loved them yet, specifically telling them on the very first night that he was going to try not to hurt anyone, try not to lead them on.

“The first time I say I love you on this journey, it’s going to be to my wife,” he had said. “And I’m so excited to figure out who she is.”

She looks up at Pollux and swallows her spit. It’s accumulating in her mouth like a fountain.

“Do you know who that is?”

Pollux shrugs, looking guilty. As a producer, Pollux is typically one step ahead of her at all times. She likes that though. He has been nice about it, sending her nonverbal hints about what is going on since she has never watched a single episode of The Bachelor in its entirety, though Prim gave her an excellent recap of the recent seasons before she left. He definitely knows who it is because he has his camera steady, poised and ready to go.

She walks to the door and swings it open. Her mouth drops.

“You gonna let me in, sweetheart, or you just gonna stand there dumbstruck?” Haymitch says, before pushing passed her.

Cressida, Peeta’s producer, told her that everyone loved Haymitch during her “Hometowns” filming and that the editors are having a field day with all of his one-liners. Prim was sweet and dainty. Jo was brash as usual. Haymitch was...Haymitch. That’s her family. Small, but hers.

And now the whole country’s, apparently.

“What are you doing here?” she demands. “Did you just leave Prim all by herself?”

“She’s a senior in high school, not a toddler,” Haymitch says. He smirks. “I left her a bowl of food next to Buttercup’s.”

Katniss glares and Haymitch collapses on the couch next to Pollux.

“What are you doing here?” she says, crossing her arms. “You flew all the way to Portugal? You’ve never flown anywhere before.”

He shrugs and eyes something in the distance. Before he answers, he stands back up and strides to the mini-fridge, rifling through before pulling out bottle of white liquor.

“I figured it was high time I explored the world’s bounty,” he says, gesturing to the liquor. “Also, when someone hands you a free ticket, you take it, kid.”

She sighs. The producers. Of course. Cressida mentioning Haymitch the other day wasn’t a fluke. It was a warning she never would have caught about them flying him in. But why would they fly him in?

Haymitch strides passed her and presses his index finger into her forehead. “You’re gonna get wrinkles if you keep overthinking everything.”

She swats his hand away and scowls as he takes his seat back on the couch. Then he pats the cushion next to him.

“Get over here, girl.”

She glares at him for a beat before she sighs and does just as he says, taking the seat beside him. They sit, both stiff beside each other, looking straight ahead.

“Go on.”

“Why didn’t you give Peeta your blessing?” she hisses. “He’s so upset.”

Haymitch keeps his eyes focused ahead of him, but taps his fingers against the glass of the bottle in his hand.

“It’s not mine to give,” he says slowly.

They sit in silence as it digests. Peeta asked all the families for permission to propose, something the other girls thought was sweet. Haymitch was the only father figure to say no. Normally, that wouldn’t bother her, because Haymitch is not her father, the tradition is a little archaic even if her father was still in the picture, and Haymitch would be the first person to tell Peeta that the permission isn’t his to give, it’s Katniss’s herself. But the fact that it meant so much to Peeta and Haymitch said no…

“That’s not it,” she says, finally turning to look at him. “Tell me the truth.”

“You’re right. I could have. It wouldn’t have been any skin off my nose to make some dumb line up to tell him.” Haymitch blows out a breath. “Katniss, I didn’t give it to him because I didn’t want to get the poor kid’s hopes up.”

She had a feeling that’s what he was going to say.

He shrugs and continues. “That kid loves you, you know. It’s written all over his face.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“And?”

Haymitch raises his eyebrows. “You need me to tell you everything?”

She covers her eyes with her hands before Haymitch can see the tears pooling in her eyes. It doesn’t matter. It isn’t as if Haymitch is going to pull her in for any sort of affectionate hug like the producers would want him to do. They just sit, side-by-side, while Katniss tries her hardest not to cry.

She knows Pollux is taping her. She knows this is going to be the start of her villain storyline. He told her the other day - when they got drunk at a bar together after Peeta left her hometown and Johanna cheers’d Katniss to ‘definitely getting a rose this week and getting her fantasy’ - that the producers all initially thought Katniss was going to be the villain but they had been pleasantly surprised. He told her that he was sure when the edits were made and the show started airing in January that she was going to be the frontrunner. She was going to be the girl the entire nation rooted for - he was, Cressida was, heck even Caesar Flickerman was rooting for her.

Until now. Now she is sure that the edits are going to make her look like a villain because she is one. And now that is finally going to come out.

“Talk, sweetheart. Just spew.”

She doesn’t remove her hand from her eyes but she does talk.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she murmurs. “I’m so confused, Haymitch.”

He sighs but doesn’t move to comfort her. She wants him to say something to contradict her. But he doesn’t and so she starts saying words she doesn’t want to mean but she knows she does.

“I can’t do this. I never wanted this,” she says. “I don’t know what to do.”

“And that’s fine because you are twenty-three and you have all the time in the world,” he says, in a rare show of wisdom.

“I can’t give him what he wants,” she says. She turns to him. “He wants a wife at the end of this and I...I can’t do it.”

Haymitch puts a hand on her knee. “That’s up to you.”

He knows why she ‘can’t do it’ but he doesn’t say anything for Pollux to catch on camera, to which she will be eternally grateful. It’s not something that she wants the entire world to know.

She hasn’t been totally honest with Peeta during their one-on-ones. He has told her very vulnerable things about his life. He has told her about his lackluster relationship with his father, his borderline abusive relationship with his mother. How his brother Rye is the only family member he really talks to anymore. She told him her father died and mother isn’t in her life right now but that’s all. He took that as enough vulnerability, giving her the rose for the night without pushing her to delve deeper.

She should have told him that seeing her mother turn to drugs after her father died swore her off relationships. She should have told him that she ruined her only solid friendship, her friendship with Gale, because he wanted a relationship and she told him to disappear if he couldn’t get over it. He couldn’t - so when he left for college that was it. She never saw him again.

Instead she told Peeta that when she was little she used to imagine a fairytale ending to her life that looked just like her parents’ - the big white dress, the happy little family, the whole soulmate thing. She just didn’t tell him that it all changed when she was eleven and her world collapsed around her.

No matter what she feels for Peeta - which is something she hasn’t allowed herself to even think about - this isn’t a good start to a relationship. It’s not fair to him when he has been completely honest and she has been manipulating him.

She puts her head in her hands. She was supposed to go home a long time ago. She wasn’t even trying to be the Bachelorette like some of the other girls, who strived to stay long enough to be considered. So why did she stay so long? Other girls have sent themselves home, why didn’t she?

She can’t think about that right now.

“I have to go home,” she says, looking up at Haymitch with puffy eyes and a red face the producers will love. “If I can’t accept his proposal, then I need to go home. He deserves someone better. Someone good like him.”

She has never once cried over a boy. When you close yourself off to the idea of love at eleven, it doesn’t leave a whole lot of room for crushes and first loves that leave you heartbroken, she supposes.

It had to happen sometime apparently.

Pollux shuts the camera off, giving her some dignity. She will have to thank him before she leaves. She probably won’t see him again after she and Haymitch board their flight back to the US. Will they stay tonight? She hopes that as soon as she tells Peeta, they’ll just head straight to the airport. She wants to go home and curl up in her bed and think about how horrible she is for what she has done. Remove all of her social media accounts and pretend like nothing ever happened.

Cashmere and Glimmer both actually love Peeta. Whether or not they love him more than the idea of being the Bachelorette or Insta-famous is yet to be seen, but they can say it. They can say that they love him. They can say yes when he asks to marry them.

She never wanted to get married. Prim and Johanna both promised her that she would be off the show before that was even a question.

Joke’s on them.

“You know you can’t go on Twitter when this airs,” Haymitch says. “Because everyone out there is going to roast your ass.”

She nods.

“I can see it now. You can live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve that boy.”

“Are you going to be one of my internet trolls?” she deadpans.

He smirks and tips his mini-bottle toward her. “Prim already made my Twitter handle.”

She chucks a throw-pillow at his head and Pollux laughs, the first noise he has made since Haymitch arrived.

...

Maybe more to come if anyone wants to see Peeta get heartbroken and then the two coming together.

#bachelor au #everlark #fanfic #drabble #everlark-drabble #it's been a long time since I've posted anything here #hope it's not too rusty

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yv-sketches · 6 years ago

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I JUST SAW HTTYD 3 TODAY

Un. Follow. Me now, this is going to be the only thing I post about for weeks.

Please, please do not read this if you haven’t been a lucky bastard of an Australian. Do not click read more on pc, go back to your blog and block the tag httyd 3 spoilers on mobile, unfollow me if you want to.

There was no assigned seat system so I sat in front of the door to go in first and get a good one, but two guys (as in, fandom age) beat me. I wonder if they have tumblr...

Things I loved (prepare for a long list):

THAT OPENING SCENE

Hiccup boards a ship to free dragons and swordfights this guard dude. Guard knocks over a lamp, setting the deck on fire and Hiccup and a blue glowing Toothless deadass walk through it. Boi that was awesome

This is Berk.

Lots of action scenes in general. Hiccup with a sword is my new aesthetic. I did not pay a lot of attention, but I think he fought left handed.

The visuals.

Hot.

Damn.

Thought httyd 2 Berk was impressive? I think not.

THAT NEW BERK ISLAND

THE CAMP

THE WATERFALL

THE CLOUDS

SNOWY NEW BERK ISLAND

THE SAND

Oh boy the sand. Because there are no places like that waterfall or new Berk island it is obviously fake, but the clouds and sand... If you took a screenshot and said it was a photo I’m pretty sure 99% of the people would believe you.

All the decors. Dreamworks made So. Many. Environments. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an animated movie with this level and amount of sets and details. This beats Finding Dory, Big Hero 6, httyd 2 by far. Maybe Zootopia and Moana reached this level, but never on this scale.

The composition. Whoever did the cinematography, kudos to you. The fight scenes were awesome, actually, most of the shots were.

The music. John Powell amirite??? When Hiccup sits there with his map. When they introduce Grimmel’s fort. When they go into the waterfall. Test flight when Light Fury saves Hiccup...

Drago’s fleet was cool, but Grimmel has a freaking aircraft/helicopter thing. Who does this guy think he is? Norbert the Nutjob?

Speaking of Grimmel HE SAID IT HE SAID IT WHEN HE BROKE INTO HICCUP’S HOUSE

“You wish for a world where humans and dragons live as equals? That will be the end of civilization.” Or something like that. Can you hear my book fandom heart beating faster? There was even a faintly recognizable ‘history repeats itself’.

The entirety of Berk on the move. Dragons carrying bags, entire ships with stuff and lots and lots of citizens. I don’t know when Hiccup acquired all this power to make people listen to him immediately, but he’s owning it.

The gang, minus Snotlout, had an actual part in the plot, unlike httyd 1 and 2 where they were mainly background characters. Gobber had a running gag with funny round dragons. I LOVE THEM OK they are so round.

TINY HICCUP IN THE FLASHBACKS Stoick was so sweet on him, and the way he speaks about Valka.... Take notes Disney, that’s a declaration of love.

No hate on Light Fury. She was the amazing ball of feral sass that I hoped she would be. She noped out when Toothless tried to flirt and yeeted Hiccup off his back. You go girl.

Toothless being a Skrill.

Toothless being da king. I got chills. Toothless my baby you are so amazing

That scene where Grimmel symbolically rips off Hiccup’s dragon-y wings, night fury pauldron and leg... Cressida Cowell would be proud of that.

“The world if not ready for dragons. Yet”

HICCUP TRULY SAID IT CAN I GET ALL BOOK FANS TO SAY IT WITH ME?

At the last hand thing where Hiccup slowly takes his hand off Toothless, I swear I heard someone cry softly. I don’t blame them.

Have I mentioned the visuals yet?

Things that I thought were very good, but not True Perfection My Life Is Complete 10/10 level good:

The ending was kind of sudden. Grimmel is defeated and then Hiccup decides to let Toothless go free? And then the entirety of Berk unsaddles their dragons to let them go? Yes, I understand, but I thought it would have taken an ENTIRE movie for him to do that. It WAS there throughout the movie, but it was never the main focus (the way Tadashi’s death was in BH6). The attention was always on either Grimmel or the Light Fury.

This in general. The emotions were the subplots instead of the main ones.

The whole “What is Hiccup without Toothless?” was a most perfect plot that kind of.... was resolved far easier than I hoped. It was still good, just not “hero the hard way”-level good.

“Hiccup makes Toothless a self-flying tail fin while that was a major point of their soulmate-ness” was missing some emotional weight. Hiccup was clearly super distressed, it was just not addressed a lot.

The Hiccstrid wedding plot was nice and I suspect lots of shippers will have their funerals in theatre, however, I think that too was not “companions of the Dragonmark”-level good. BUT THEY ARE SO CUTE! THEY ARE SUCH A REALISTIC AND GOOD COUPLE LIKE THEY WERE IN HTTYD 2. No mushy romance, just two badass Vikings who are so comfortable around each other it can only be true love.

Random stuff:

Eret might be gay for Gobber.

Snotlout might have slapped Hiccup’s butt.

Valka beat Spitelout (voiced by David Tennant despite not having any real lines) in arm wrestling.

Ruffnut annoying Grimmel the way only she can.

Valka has bits of grey in her hair, but her face still looks super young.

The whole gang has flight suits

Things I did not like:

Toothless fell in love too fast. He ditched Hiccup’s flirting tactics and made her a drawing. Cool. He got mad when she stepped on the lines. Cool. But then she got mad as well and Toothless just.... left it at that. Apparently he was so lovestruck he let Light Fury trample his art. No.

Things I hated with every inch of my being (that is not a lot of inches by the way):

Snotlout flirting with a Valka.

Gods... He is younger than Hiccup. Valka is Hiccup’s mom. Blergh.

Things I understand and fit the movie verse but annoyed me because it killed the entire meaning of Cressida Cowell’s conclusion (yes this is very specific):

The ending.

The dragons leave. Hiccup smiles through his tears because he knows this is the best thing to do. Toothless becomes king of the dragon world. Light Fury is his queen. Hiccup and Astrid marry and have cute children. Hiccup grows a beard. So far so good. Very good ending.

But then. Then Toothless reappears and meets Hiccup’s son and daughter. -_-

I don’t know about you, but wasn’t the whole point that dragons went into the hidden world to hide from humans? Wasn’t the whole point that ‘great things are only made out of love and pain’ and that doing the good thing also meant letting Toothless go? I wanted a heartbreaking ending. The bittersweet one from book 12. And this just felt like a fairytale that was too good to be true.

Yet at the same time, I like this ending. Toothless has his own life. Hiccup is his own person without Toothless. He’s a good chief and everyone is generally happy. The world does not believe dragons exist. Except for Berk.

Berk is this special place that dragons sometimes visit before returning back to the hidden world because Berlin’s do love dragons.

And come on. Kids and parents would riot if Hiccup and Toothless did separate for good.

Things that whacked me in the face like

"There were dragons when I was a boy"

BUT HE DID NOT ONLY SAY THAT HE SAID THE ENTIRE THING

THE ENTIRE THING from ‘There were dragons when I was a boy’ TO ‘leaving not a bone, not a fang, in the earth for the men of the future to remember them by.’

I died.

#httyd 3 #httyd 3 spoilers #httyd 3 the hidden world #httyd #how to train your dragon #httyd 3 the hidden world spoilers #how to train your dragon spoilers #httyd spoilers #mine

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