#ch: violet hastings

[lindsayrps]

violet hastings, 21, student

born in texas while her father was stationed there for flying school, violet was the second born child of hank and nora hastings and spent her childhood growing up in chapel hill, north carolina close to her grandparents and great grandparents.

violet does not, necessarily, have bad memories of her childhood or her parents. violet was a baby when hank got stationed in virginia but came home as often as he could and violet was simply too young to really remember things being any other way. she was barely a teenager by the time her parents split up and hank put his military career first and, for whichever way she felt about it—at the time and now—she can’t really say that he didn’t put in the effort to be there in whatever way he could—for her, for her brother and for their mother.

john and violet could never claim they were all that close but they were siblings, they looked out for each other (or, more accurately, john looked out for violet) and that counted for something. violet was thirteen when john enrolled at west point with the intention of following The Family Plan that she’d heard stories about and had never really expected him to do anything else but had held onto hope, for a while, that he wouldn’t end up in the army like their father had. john would spend nearly two years at home with violet and their mother after graduating.

violet applies and enrolls at duke in the fall of 1940 with intentions to study biology and, more specifically, ecology. her love of biology and science, in general, came as a fluke in middle school. born out of boredom in the school library, she picked up a book on biology and became interested in the topic. through…a lot of reading, she understands other areas of biology—developmental, cell, molecular, etc—and finds them all equally fascinating but ecology was always the one that stood out more amongst the bunch and, so, here she is.

violet is barely into her second year when all hell breaks loose. in the span of the year that follows the bombing of pearl harbour, hank gets sent to north africa in december 1941 and john gets sent to camp claiborne in august 1942 to join the newly formed 101st and suddenly it’s just violet and her mother and whole heap of worrying that hasn’t really gone away in the time since.

violet likes to think she’s a naturally confident person and, to a degree, she is and was raised as such by her mother but that confidence is also masking a deeply awkward girl who spends more time with books than people her own age. she is socialized and does have friends but often feels like she’s a third wheel or the odd one out in a group because she’s poured so much of herself into school, especially within the last 2-3 years.

violet’s a speak first, think later type of person, mostly born out of frustration she feels being undermined as both a woman and a woman in a stem field. not that she’s thinking about it (because she’s not) but she does not like being told she won’t find a husband because she’s too brainy or that she’s too pretty to be wasting away in school instead of being subservient and relying on other people to get through life.

more than that, she looks to her mother who raised two children mostly by herself as a role model. violet isn't under the illusion that her mother is perfect and can do no wrong but she's provided violet with the life she has now and she's very thankful that she's had the mother that she does.

when violet isn't doing school things or having some semblance of a social life, she's often putting her time and energy into volunteering for war effort related things, organizing the neighbourhood for initiatives and helping out with her mother's victory garden.

violet isn't known for half assing anything. when she's interested in something, she's full throttle all in. school, people, anything and everything, she doesn't know how to split her time between everything she is interested in and not feel at least kind of ~guilty for not giving it 100% every single time.

[loloinlove]

The Ever After Ch. 4

Howdy everyone, after a hectic week I finally have Chapter for posted, which you can read below or on AO3 - here.

The scowl on Eloise's face when she entered the room would have been funny if Penelope did not know the cause of it. Or if it had been a different occasion. She was no stranger to her best friend being annoyed at people for one reason or another, but it was rare that she saw the kind of frown Eloise was currently wearing. A moment later, Violet Bridgerton entered Penelope's bedroom with a serene air and a pointed look at Eloise, who huffed and went to sit over on the small chaise lounge on the other side of the room from Marina. There was an awkward feel to the air that had Penelope feeling nauseous, waiting for an explosion of yelling and screaming. She tensed further in her seat the longer the silence went on, trying to make herself smaller, less of a target, hoping to sink into the background until it was over. The only sound she could hear was Violet's soft footsteps coming up behind her. 

It was an awful moment when she felt a gentle touch on her shoulders and flinched violently, but everyone had the grace to ignore it.

"Penelope dear, you did not get to eat much earlier, so I took the liberty of having the staff send up a tea service for us," She said, giving Penelope's arms a soft squeeze before letting go. "As for the rest of you, let us get to work -most of you still need time to get ready as well."

Her comment seemed to spur the others into action as everyone set themselves to various tasks around the room. Madame Delacroix continued to unbox various items and garments, handing some to Daphne, who had enlisted the help of Marina, and some to the maids that had been hovering near the doorway waiting for the tension to be broken. Several other maids were collecting her things from the room, including her entire wardrobe and several books she had bought with her. She noticed that the ones she had been reading from the library at Hastings house were being put in a separate pile, presumably to be put back in their proper places. Violet was gathering her wedding items and setting them on the bed, making sure to keep them separate from the boxes set in a pile at the foot of it.

Penelope herself was gazing about the room and saw that Eloise was still positioned at the other end of it, and was looking anywhere but in Marina's direction. She decided that if civility was the order of the day, she would need something to distract her, as she had been ordered to sit and stay in her chair while everyone around her was moving about doing this and that.

Her distraction came in the form of the staff bringing in several trays of light fare including fruits, biscuits, tarts, and cake, as well as tea, a plate of meats and cheeses, and some champagne that Penelope elected to ignore.

 With the promise of snacks and tea Eloise came to stand near Penelope, who asked for a chair to be brought to her side for her best friend to sit down. When Eloise was seated she tried to think of something to say, looking around the room for a distraction and her eyes settled on the food once more. She stalled a little for time and made herself a small plate, wracking her brain for a safe topic, when she once again spotted the cheese next to the cold cuts of meat.

She wasn't in the mood to discuss Marina's presence, nor anything remotely unpleasant, and offered up the story of Albion Finch bringing her sister various types of cheeses from exotic places as a courting gift. As usual, her best friend's follow-up questions were both practical and said in a tone that Penelope could only describe as 'fascinated and appalled' which wasn't unusual when they talked of courtship and marriage.

"Is your sister very fond of cheese then? Daphne never received anything like that. Flowers, chocolates, and the like, but never cheese . How did your sister react? Oh, I would have loved to have seen her face."

"I haven't even told you the best part yet," Penelope said, waving away her attempt at asking something else.

"While everyone else was trying to figure out if he was serious or not, Phillipa still hadn't managed to say anything to him, so everything was very quiet and awkward, and then suddenly he says, ' Oh, right. I forgot to invite you on a picnic tomorrow afternoon, didn't I? I thought we could try them together.'"  Penelope said, trying to keep her giggles to a minimum, not wanting to disrupt anyone around them.

Eloise didn't bother to keep her laughter quiet, throwing her head back and laughing rather loudly, not caring if she disturbed the other occupants of the room. They sat there talking and chatting for another few minutes before Daphne and Marina came over, holding several garments and boxes.

"Penelope?" She asked, pointedly ignoring the rather unflattering sneer on Eloise's face. "Madame Delacroix is almost ready for you. It's time to do your hair and makeup."

Penelope's heart fell to the bottoms of her feet upon hearing that it was almost time. She had been dreading the moment for so long that now it had arrived, she felt mostly numb. As a little girl, she had often wondered what her wedding day would be like. She hadn't met Colin until she was ten years old, so her ideas were always filled with the Princes from the stories her Governess had told her: vaguely handsome, and able to help her escape from her Mama. She hadn’t cared for much more beyond that until Colin had stumbled into her life.

Several maids came over to assist with moving the food to another table, and Daphne went to go speak with her Lady's Maid, Rose, who was pulling out little tins of cosmetics and comparing them. Eloise had moved once again to the other side of the room where Violet was instructing some of the footmen on which boxes would be going where, which left Marina to stand near Penelope, who still hadn't said a word.

The two of them stood in a slightly awkward silence until Marina grabbed a comb and began to gently undo Penelope's current style, making sure she didn't pull the hairpins out too quickly. Marina worked mostly in silence unless there was a knot that needed to be untangled. Penelope smiled at her cousin's familiar grunts of annoyance. It reminded her of boring afternoons spent in the Featherington’s drawing room. Marina was terrible at embroidery, usually having to pull out half her work each time she set to work on it. It didn't take long for her cousin to finish coming out her hair, as Marina had a vast amount of experience dealing with curly hair, and soon Penelope's hair fell in soft waves rather than a frizzy mess like when Penelope brushed it.

"Thank you," Penelope said softly.

When the maids were finished arranging everything they headed toward her to take over from her cousin in getting her prepared. One of them was carrying a small box, which she set off to the side of the dressing table, out of Penelope's line of sight and she didn't have much time to ponder over it, as Daphne and Rose arrived looking pleased with whatever cosmetics they had selected for her. Daphne went to sit in Eloise's vacated chair and had another one brought over for Marina so that the three of them could return to their earlier discussion. Penelope couldn't remember what they had been speaking about earlier, but it didn't seem to matter as Daphne took the lead and filled the silence, directing most of the conversation to be between herself and Marina.

Occasionally they would ask Penelope's opinion on something, likely so she would feel included, but for the most part, she sat and watched her hands. She leaned her head this way and that, up and down, following the direction of Rose and the other maids who were tackling her hair. She supposed she should be thankful that it was not her own Mama who was directing everything, as she was sure there would be more oranges and pinks everywhere, but mostly she felt as if she was adrift on the ocean. Endless waves constantly pushing and pulling at her while she fought with everything she had just to stay afloat, to get one more breath of air into her lungs, lest the darker feelings hiding in the depths catch hold of her once more. They were always lingering in the back of her mind, ready to drag her down and hold her prisoner, whispering awful things to her, especially at night when she was left with nothing but her thoughts for company. Some days, she could manage better than others, but having to face the reality of what had happened to her, of getting ready for an extravagant wedding she hadn't wanted-

She couldn't-

She went back to staring at her hands, barely noticing when the maids finished with her hair and applying color to her lips and cheeks. She hadn't bothered to look in the mirror the entire time the maids were getting her ready, and then suddenly she was behind a privacy screen with Madame Delacroix, who was chattering away at her in a manner Penelope had never seen before, filling the silence and giving her almost no room to interject, not that she particularly wanted to. Maybe the Modiste had noticed Penelope's reticence while everyone was rushing about? Sadly, it made no difference to her as she was dressed in the underclothes that she would wear beneath her wedding gown. Everything she would wear that day had been commissioned and paid for by the Bridgertons, which meant that it was the highest quality fabric, and felt very expensive against Penelope's skin. Her mother had always gone to another Modiste for their underthings, stating that no one would see them, so they need not be so costly, but Penelope knew she would never be able to go back to what she had been wearing before. Everything was extremely soft against her skin and she could tell that there would be no chafing later on when it was time to get ready for bed.

When she only had the dress left to put on, she looked around and noticed that it was waiting in a box off to the side on a nearby table. The front of the dress was made of pure white silk with tiny pearls stitched across it in seemingly random places and she thought the bodice looked a little off, but she didn't get to observe much else about it as she was being turned so that Madame Delacroix could step around her and motion for a few maids to come over and assist her. Penelope wasn't sure what other assistance the Modiste needed and was worried until she was instructed to raise her arms over her head so the dress could be lowered over her. She closed her eyes tightly while her arms were maneuvered into the sleeves, and only opened them when the movement around her stopped.

The rest of the dress was just as beautiful, made of the same white silk as the bodice, with lace overlaying the skirt portion. The lace itself was light and airy, though the embroidery near the hem was heavier so it wouldn't fly around her when she walked. Penelope hadn't worn anything remotely like it that she could remember and marveled at the silver stitching she could see now that she could inspect it up close. Madame Delacroix was moving behind her, tugging the dress this way and that to make sure it was laying the right way, and when she was satisfied one of the maids came over to start lacing up the back, which was more open that anything Penelope's Mama had let her wear. It showed off a barely-proper amount of her skin, which felt a little risque to her, but she still liked it. One of the benefits of getting married -that she was actually looking forward to- was that she would be able to choose her own wardrobe, and she distracted herself by thinking up all kinds of silly and sophisticated dresses she could commission in the future.

Her distraction was cut short when Eloise arrived several minutes later in a very lovely min green gown. She had a grumpy look on her face that she always had when she was made to get dressed up, but Penelope wasn't phased. She had been with Eloise though many of her friends less than pleasant moods and would probably be with her through many more.

"You look lovely, Eloise," Penelope stated, as she stepped out from behind the privacy screen, bringing all the attention of the occupants of the room to her.

"Penelope, my dear, how lovely," Violet said, coming to stand in front of her. "You look just as beautiful as I thought you would. You've outdone yourself again, Madame Delacroix," She continued as she led Penelope in a slow twirl so that everyone could see the dress. Penelope marveled at how well it moved around her. She felt neither claustrophobic like when her mother tightened her stays a little too much, nor like there was so much fabric that it was difficult to move around in. It dragged just the barest inch or so, but she assumed that would no longer be an issue when she put on the matching shoes.

"You look gorgeous Penelope, truly," Eloise said, heading toward where she was standing with Violet, who was still admiring the dress from various angles while a maid helped her into her shoes.

"I hope the dress is to your liking, Lady Bridgerton," Madame Delacroix said in her heavily accented English, as she was packing up everything she would need to return to her shop. "I did take a few liberties with the design, but only so that the dress would be more flattering. Mrs. Featherington seemed to only care about the current fashion and wouldn't listen to me I tried to advise her against it for Miss Penelope."

"Well, Portia Featherington won't be here, and her opinions on fashion no longer matter, but you did a marvelous job, " Violet said, waving away her concerns and giving the other woman a pointed look that they had exchanged quite a few times before; usually when gossip was being bandied about.

Madame Delacroix nodded and finished packing up the rest of her things, leaving the Ladies to finish the final preparations for the wedding. She knew one of the maids would alert a footman to escort her out and have a carriage waiting for her, and wanted to be back to her shop in time to spread a little gossip if possible.

Violet went over to the dressing table and picked up the small white box that Penelope had spied earlier, and brought it over to them. Daphne and Marina were nearby, and both came over when Violet motioned to them, waiting until they were all standing together to show them what she had.

"This belonged to my Grandmother," She said, taking out a small comb in the shape of a miniature tiara. "I know that it might not make up for your mother not being able to be here today, but I wanted you to have something given to you with a mother's love."

Penelope could hardly breathe when Violet presented her with the comb. It was a beautiful silver color, laden with pearls and small diamonds in a tasteful arrangement, and was no doubt worth a small fortune.

"I couldn't possibly-"

"Nonsense, dearest. It belongs to me, and I should like you to have it," Violet said firmly but calmly.

Penelope could do nothing but stand there as her soon-to-be Mother in Law placed it gently in her hair, making sure not to disrupt the artful mess of curls that the staff had styled her hair into.

"Now," Violet said, wiping away a tear, "It is almost time. Daphne if you will escort Lady Crane to her seat, Eloise and I will stay with Penelope."

Daphne sighed and squeezed Penelope's hand as she and Marina headed toward where the other guests would shortly be arriving. She hoped that Marina didn't have any trouble, but she trusted Daphne to let no harm come to her cousin, even in the form of hurtful barbs thrown their way.

Violet and Eloise waited with her, quietly sipping tea and making no conversation until after what seemed to be an eternity -but still too soon- a knock sounded through the room, and one of the footmen announced that everyone was seated and ready for things to begin.

[cine-films-movies]

An interactive guide to every major character in 'Bridgerton' and how they're all connected

Queen Charlotte, Will Mondrich, Daphne Bridgerton, Simon Basset, and Eloise Featherington.

he titular family on Netflix's "Bridgerton" serves as the audience's window into an inclusive Regency-era world, reimagined from Julia Quinn's novels.

Dowager Viscountess Violet Bridgerton has her hands full with her eight children, who each take turns entering London's cutthroat marriage market.

First to take the spotlight, Daphne Bridgerton finds a love match on season one with Simon Basset, the Duke of Hastings. Her eldest brother, Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, then takes center stage as he tries to find his viscountess on season two.

The further the Bridgerton siblings fly from their wisteria-adorned nest, the more exposure the audience gets to new relationships and characters within this universe.

As the Shondaland-produced show progresses (season two premiered on Friday, and the series has already been renewed through season four), separate storylines are becoming increasingly interwoven.

Some characters converge through courting, like Philippa Featherington and Albion Finch. Others are pushed together by scandal (see: Marina Thompson and Sir Phillip Crane).

To keep track of the expanding list of new faces and connections on "Bridgerton," Insider created an interactive guide to the main characters and how they're related.

Warning: Spoilers ahead for season two of "Bridgerton."

Click or tap on a character to learn more Basset Bridgerton Featherington Sharma Royal court Other aristocracy Other commoners

https://www.insider.com/bridgerton-characters-interactive-guide

[wingsliberty1995]

BRIDGERTON

Bridgerton è una serie televisiva statunitense creata da Chris Van Dusen e prodotta da Shonda Rhimes, basata sui romanzi di Julia Quinn, ambientati nel mondo dell'alta società londinese durante la Reggenza inglese (Regency Era). La serie ha debuttato il 25 dicembre 2020 su Netflix. La serie, ambientata in una utopica Età della reggenza inglese, narra le vicende della famiglia Bridgerton: Lady Violet, i suoi quattro figli Anthony, Benedict, Colin e Gregory e le sue quattro figlie Daphne, Eloise, Francesca e Hyacinthe. Altra famiglia protagonista sono i Featherington, composti dalla madre Portia, Lady Featherington; suo marito, il barone; le tre figlie Philippa, Prudence e Penelope. Siamo nell’alta società londinese nella stagione in cui le giovani donne cercano marito e le madri sono in fermento, intente a trovare una buona sistemazione per le proprie figlie. Protagonista della prima stagione è Daphne Bridgerton che, al debutto nell’alta società, incontrerà il duca di Hastings, Simon, scapolo ambìto e amico di suo fratello Anthony. Per eludere politiche matrimoniali svantaggiose per entrambi, fingeranno di instaurare un legame ma ben presto scopriranno di essere profondamente innamorati l'una dell'altro. Tuttavia, sul loro amore incombe un giuramento che Simon ha fatto molto tempo prima a suo padre.

Parliamo di un altra serie che mi piace molto Bridgerton e una serie meravigliosa basata sui romanzi di Julia Quiin la serie e basata sul primo libro e sulla prima protagonista cioè Daphne, poi ci saranno altri 11 libri ogni libro parla della famiglia Bridgerton composta da quattro fratelli e quattro sorelle,in ogni libro c'è la storia di ogni fratello e sorella, il primo che come ho detto parla di Daphne e stata trasmessa su Netflx, ho adorato ogni singolo episodio devo dire che l'ho vista più di una volta, diciamo più volte perchè adoro la serie, parliamo di un periodo molto antico e ambientato nel mondo dell'alta società londinese durante la reggenza inglese, parliamo di un periodo molto diverso da quello poche abbiamo oggi, ho adorato la serie non solo per i costumi che fin da quando ero piccola ho sempre adorato quel genere di costume, ma anche per la musica tra cui hanno preso alcune canzoni che conoscono tutti ed e stato fatto un remix rendendo le canzoni ancora più belle,adoro anche il fatto che sembra gossip girl però di quel periodo ecco invece della tecnologia venivano usate le lettere e il giornale, adoro come racconta le storie della società quel suo modo di fare come gossip girl infatti e stata la prima cosa che mi attirata la prima volta che ho visto la serie, ci sono anche intrigi e tanta passione decisamente tanto ma tanto sesso e posso dire che non guasta mai specialmente per il duca Hasting e il suo bellissimo fondo schiena vi posso dire che non vene pentirete, la storia e bellissima Dafne e una donna forte che sa sempre quello che vuole ci sono stati momenti dove sembrava una bambina ma devo dire che alla fine se le cavata alla grande, il Duca e pazzesco sembra un idiota ma alla fine fantastico non solo perchè e bellissimo cavolo e dannatamente sexy gli ormoni a mille tutte le volte che lo guardi anche se devo dire che anche gli altri personaggi non sono male, non solo lui diciamo che ci sono molti personaggi belli ho adorato anche il suo carattere come personaggi entrambi sono fantastici, un altro personaggio che mi piace  tra tanti che ci sono e Eloise secondo me anche il suo libro sarà bellissimo adoro la sua forza, il suo voler cambiare il mondo il suo voler diventare una donna forte che non ha bisogno di un marito per andare avanti, mi piace davvero tanto, un altro personaggio che mi piace e anche Penelope non vedo l'ora di leggere anche la sua storia anche lei e molto interessante. La storia non e male anche se alcune cose ti fanno storcere il naso ma parliamo comunque di quel periodo dove la donna non era molto considerata anche se nella serie diciamo che c'è molto femminismo quindi posso dire che non e andata cosi male, le donne non sono delle stupide anzi sono delle donne forti che sanno quello che vogliono, anche se alcune volte seguono le regole di quella società come il dover per forza sposarsi e mettere al mondo dei bambini come se le donne sanno fare solo quello, quindi alcune cose sono non ma altre si, la storia romantica e pazzesca loro due insieme sono fantastici non solo come amici all'inizio che fanno un po ridere ma anche come fidanzati la chimica che c'era in loro due era pazzesca, ho adorato tutta la storia d'amore fin dal primo momento e posso dire che ci sono dei momenti di quel periodo specialmente il corteggiamento che avrei voluto che ci fosse anche adesso, so che sembra troppo antico ma a me e piace molto quel modo di fare meglio di adesso che alcuni lasciano davvero a desiderare comunque ogni puntata e molto bella devo dire che non posso dirne una preferita anche se c'è una scena ma non voglio farvi spoiler dove il Duca fa una dichiarazione cosi bella e romantica un momento davvero speciale che ti fa emozionare in un modo assurdo e cosi romantico quel momento. Netflix ha preso i diritti per gli altri libri quindi usciranno 11 stagioni e devo dire che non vedo l'ora di guardare la seconda stagione sono davvero curiosa, un giorno spero di comprare tutti i libri e di leggerli specialmente il primo libro infine vi consiglio di guardarla su Netflix perchè merita davvero tanto.

[shadowedson]

Catalyst

Superstition says that bad things come in threes, that the world brings three terrible knocks to your door and gives you no other choice then to open it. Perhaps, the world is just cold, the orchestra of tragedy never ceasing its siren song. Perhaps, instead, bad things come in storms. Booming thunder, wild winds and deadly lightning. A trifecta of true chaos…

Nowhere did this chaos of life and tragedy take more hold than within Inethreis’ mind, brewing and pounding in his head like the swing of an all mighty hammer. The moment he had stumbled in his doorway from the streets of Silvermoon, it all threatened to come crashing down over his head all over again, like it had so often these past few wretched weeks. He gave no greeting, no call into the dimly lit halls to his friends and family. Instead, he made for the stairs,nearly falling up them a few different times with heavy handed and sloppy steps. He did not care who heard him, he did not care who he woke, he only cared about getting there. Tears bit at his eyes like rabid dogs at his heels as he so desperately tried to outrun them, leaving his heart beating in his ears like a drum. Every single part of his body screamed, his mind falling to pieces from the inside out, shoving the doors to the back balconies wide open, before stepping out into the night and pouring rain.

His head fell back on his shoulders, his eyes squeezing themselves shut. Hard rain beat down on him, mixing with his tears as they streamed down his face in quick succession of one another. The downpour was soaking him nearly to the bone, and he saw fit to let it. Somewhere in his soul he wished it would melt his wretched body to nothing, send whatever was left of him away with the wind. But with no such luck, he opted for something different. With a deep breath in, the man let out an ungodly scream, the sound echoing off rooftops and out over the city streets. Barely even moments after he let loose another wail, his eyes shut tighter as the sound he made rung in his own ears like a bell. He found himself screaming into the night until his throat burned and he tasted blood, his whole body shaking with the violent outbursts.

Somewhere behind him he could almost feel the whole house stirring, people waking from sleep and wondering just what the fuck was going on outside. But in the moment he found he didn’t even care. Slowly he came to his knees on the stone below him, too hoarse to scream more, and just cried. The sounds were rasped and painful, leaving his throat raw and forcing him to gag. Inethreis brought himself lower to the ground, hunched over into the puddling water. By now he was not sure if the shaking was from the ice cold rain soaking into his skin, or the sheer gravity of emotion that gripped his body. But behind him, he heard the faint shifting of feet along the stone. Someone had come to check on him.

“Inethreis...it is well past midnight, come on, please get up off the floor young man. You are going to catch some kind of cold out here” Alsunir’s voice rang out behind him, speaking over the pounding of the rain on stone.

The sound of his uncle speaking in his ears forced him still for a moment, the sobs that barreled out of him catching in his throat. It made him feel sick to be seen this way, in a heap on the ground all over again. He could not even remember how many times this had been the case lately. Words would not even form, but Alsunir did not seem to need them instead, he had moved across the balcony to his nephew, the black umbrella he carried shielding away the rain and all else. Slowly, Reyes found himself lifted into the old Farstrider’s side, moved pace by pace into the massive house.

“Stay with me alright? Just keep your feet on the ground, one step at a time. We will get you warmed up and after we can talk about this…” The lord spoke in a coo, not seeming to care that the side of his nightgown was being soaked.

Still too shocked to form any coherent syllables, Inethreis opted simply to nod, biting back on another sniffle.

Moving down the great halls brought them all the way to the Library, the enormous double doors one of the many places in the home Inethreis had yet to enter. Though now, in the state of turmoil he existed in he did not have the mind to care. Instead he was leaned against the lord of the house, trying to focus on not falling flat on his face. But soon he found himself released of that burden, embraced by the plush surface of the couch Alsunir had settled him onto as gently as he could manage. Inethreis was barely processing things around the room, not the wall to floor bookcases, not the desk tucked toward the back walls, not even his Uncle’s scurrying footsteps as he moved in and out of the room to help him settle in. All of it was an empty blur of color, shapes in the candle light. His body fell weightless and cold against the cushions below him, sinking into them entirely.

He could not tell if he had fallen asleep or if he just really was finally losing it for good, moments of that night flashing through his vision. Barren winter snow stained red, the all consuming stench of death in the air, teeth and fangs as they closed around his shoulder like a vice. But more haunting then all of it was her...laying there still and unmoving. Those blank eyes only staring, never blinking and never looking away from him, reminding him that her death was his fault. All of this was his fault, his worgenism, his mother’s death, and now his mother’s eternal torment in The Maw. The catalyst to all of this was his neglect, his inattentiveness to her needs and care. He should have been at her side...and gods above did he regret it now, those horrible dead eyes haunting him like a ghost...burned in the forefront.

Now he could not even imagine where she was, what was happening to the woman who had dedicated her whole life to him. She was beyond him...beyond this world or even this realm. Sucked down into a place of empty wasteland and torment, and he had put her there.

“Let us get you out of some of these leathers Inethreis, come on my son, the fire is warm and these are waterlogging you...stay with me for just a moment okay.”

Inethreis found himself pulled back from the sheer darkness of his mind, his head snapping down to find Alsunir’s hand on his and the man’s voice in his ears again. Meeting that kind green gaze almost brought him to tears again, quickly looking away as he offered the man a muted nod. Slowly, he sat himself up from the loveseat, feeling Alsunir lightly squeeze his hand in reassurance before letting go...and for the moment it seemed to keep him grounded. The warmth of the fire filled him as he finally got a good look at the hearth in front of him, slowly starting the process of stripping away his current clothing. Just beside him on the floor, he found a few things folded up for him...a robe, a towel, and a blanket. Even in this state, the gesture left him blinking with surprise. He had entirely lost track of where his uncle was in the room's vastness, but for right now, he seemed to have privacy beside the fire.

When he finally was stripped down to pale skin, he reached for the towel to dry himself, happy for the distraction of silent self care and the crackling of the warm fire. He felt his body on a razors edge between collapsing again, driving him that much closer to the heat in hopes that it might just burn away all his pain for once. The bite of cold was one thing off his mind for now, the robe and blanket picked up from the floor with haste. First the robe, cinched in tight at the waist and leaving the black linen to flow with his body, and then the blanket almost immediately overtop and pulled as lithe as he could manage. His body finally came to a stop for the first time in minutes, shaking legs bringing him back down to settle on the loveseat. Almost instantly he felt that clarity slipping, but before he could be consumed all over again Alsunir had moved from the window to sit with him. One of the older man’s pale hands came to rest lightly on Inethreis’ shoulder, his voice quiet as he began to speak.

“I know you might not be able to talk right now, and trust me, that is okay my son. I do not expect you to.” Alsunir gave a deep sigh before continuing. “But, I have been where you are now when I lost my son, when I lost my family. I know about The Maw, you do not need to tell me that. But I promise you, I will get you everything you need to get her out of there safely.”

Inethreis found his violet eyes going wide, choking on a sob somewhere between a thank you and incoherent sound. At his shoulder he felt a squeeze before he finally collapsed into the man’s fatherly arms, feeling them close right around him as he sobbed. But rather than chide him, Alsunir simply swayed and continued speaking.

“It will take some time of course, but not more then a week to get ready. For right now though, I think you need to focus on basics my son. Sleeping, eating, hygiene, and company. I am so proud of you and how you fight, finding your way to tackle unimaginable fears, even the way you found help for your shifting. Your lovers are likely worried sick in their bed for you...people care about you little one. I know I am neither of your parents, but if you are living under my roof you are family. It will be okay and we will get you through this together…”

His words trailed off in Inethreis’ ears, but their meaning still resonated through him, their meaning still reaching well into his core. Wrapped up like this he felt safety and warmth he had never truly known, the love of a father and the soft hand of comfort. It eased him like nothing ever had, even as he sobbed and rasped against him. For once the pain felt ephemeral, he felt as though he could breath...that things might just be okay. Alsunir did not speak, did not shove him away, Instead he felt a hand rise into his hair, fingers easing through the raven locks as he rocked inethreis as one might a child. Inethreis found himself losing track of time, not knowing how long he sat there crying or how long Alsunir rocked him, and he also found that he did not care. Soon, he felt his eyes closing and it left him with only one thought in all the world…

He was loved, and it would all be okay.

( Mentions for: @lifeofaranger and @varment-wra )

[7-wonders]

As Above, So Below Ch. 22

Summary: Your average, mundane life as a college student is flipped upside down when the man you thought you knew as your next-door neighbor turns out to be the God of the dead. When Michael lures you down to Hell, everything that you thought you knew about the world is proven wrong.

Word Count: 3165

A/N: Thank you all so much for being patient with me. I’ve been working on this chapter for a couple of weeks now, and I really hope it lives up to your expectations (yes, there’s smut). Feedback is always appreciated, and I would love if you liked, commented, and reblogged if you enjoyed this.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6| Chapter 7| Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22: The Fruit of the Hidden

Although the news that the golden apple that will grant you immortality is on its way to the Underworld should cause you to hurry back home, you and Michael take your time in gathering your belongings. Cassius had left just as quickly as he arrived, the demon having nothing more to do than to serve his master. After fulfilling his duty of telling Michael the news, he had no reason to remain Above. Michael’s right hand preternatural being had given you both an odd look upon your lack of haste, but wisely chose to remain silent on his opinion of the matter.

“Are you nervous?” Michael asks, watching as you fold the picnic blanket up before deciding that it’s not even and starting again.

“No, not nervous.” You’re certain that you’re not nervous. The ball of nerves that settles in the pit of your stomach and refuses to go away is nowhere to be found.

Michael tilts his head, examining you as you pack away the rest of the supplies and carefully shut the basket. “You’re scared.”

Biting your lip, you turn to look at him. “Please don’t make fun of me.”

“Why would I ever make fun of you?”

“I don’t know, because it’s dumb to be scared in the first place?”

“My love, nothing you could ever say, do, or feel is dumb.”

“Not even when I ran away and nearly got eaten by that monster?”

Michael rolls his eyes at the reference of your first night dining with him. “Okay, I amend my previous statement. Nothing that you could ever say or feel is dumb. Some of the situations you get yourself into, however…”

“Okay, I get it! I do dumb stuff.”

Michael chuckles, gently removing your hands from the basket that you’re about to pick up and wrapping his arms around you. “Why are you scared? You know that there’s nothing to be scared of, right?”

“I worry that I’m going to end up rambling if I start to list the reasons why.”

“Ramble away.”

That’s all the encouragement you need, your fears spilling out of you like your mouth’s a broken dam. “Just...what if it doesn’t work? Or what if I die in the process? What if I eat the apple and you decide that you don’t love me anymore? That I’m not the girl in your prophecy? What if it does work, but immortality makes me a completely different person?”

Michael frowns as you brokenly finish listing your worries, eyes shining with tears when you look up at him. He had known that this was weighing on your mind, but not this heavily. “Hey, please don’t cry. It makes my heart ache to see you cry.”

“I’m sorry--”

“There’s no need to apologize.” Pulling you into his lap, he strokes a hand through your hair as he holds you to him. “I wish that there was some sort of precedence for me to draw on that would help to rid you of your fears. All that I know is that Violet would not have agreed to this unless she was absolutely certain that no harm would come to you. As for your fear of me not loving you anymore, I can assure you that that is impossible.”

He looks at you with a tenderness that would shock anybody who knew Michael as the God of the Dead. All that he wants is to make sure that you’re okay, even if that means shedding his stoic persona in order to reassure you. When you finally nod, wiping the tears from under your eyes, Michael slowly smiles.

“I hope that made you feel at least a little better?” Michael asks. 

“It did. I’m still scared, but I’ll be okay as long as you’re next to me.”

He smirks. “I wouldn’t leave your side unless I was forcibly dragged away from you.”

“I love you,” you mutter into his shoulder. Regardless of the barrier, Michael hears your words loud and clear.

“Not as much as I love you.” Pulling you up with him, Michael runs a hand across your cheek and assesses you. “Are you ready?”

“No, but we’re doing this regardless.”

“That’s the spirit.” Before you can protest, Michael throws you a wink and transmutes with you back to the Murder House.

Your jump with Michael into the Hellmouth is much more willing than the last time you made this journey with him, neither of you wasting any time before stepping off the ledge and falling through dimensions. He lands gracefully, although everything that your fiancé (it’s going to take a bit to get used to being engaged to this literal god of a man) does is graceful. You, however, have to grab Michael’s arm to keep from stumbling to your knees upon landing. He bites his lip to keep from laughing, dutifully making sure you don’t fall over.

“I hope clumsiness is something that I lose in immortality,” you mutter as you straighten yourself up again.

“I don’t.” You look at Michael questioningly, and he elaborates. “I love how you trip and stumble. It’s...cute, and very uniquely you.”

You stare at the ground to avoid Michael seeing the bashful expression on your face, waiting for Michael to give the guards the signals to open the doors to the Great Hall. He chuckles beside you, amused at your silence, but nods at his servants and leads you into the room.

The dark shades of red and black that decorate the room makes it difficult to fully light up the room, which is probably why the Inferno that Dante had so famously written about is conveniently located on the other side of the room. The flames provide more light than 30 bright overhead lights, but still cast ghoulish shadows on the walls. Somehow you’ve managed to get used to seeing the entrance to the nine circles of hell whenever you need to visit Michael officially, but you don’t think you’ll get used to the screams the echo from the pit and the ever-present smell of brimstone that permeates the air.

A woman with coiffed blonde hair stands at the foot of Michael’s throne, her pastel Easter dress a stark contrast to the doom-and-gloom of the Underworld. She holds a cigarette in her grip, the paper stained with the pink color that’s painted on her lips. As you and Michael ascend the steps to his throne, she appraises you both with a cool gaze.

“Lord Hades,” she greets, curtseying to the man now sitting on his obsidian throne.

“Hermes.” You’re only mildly surprised to learn that Hermes is not a man, as has been depicted for centuries. If this was the information you were learning prior to meeting Michael, you would be freaking out right now. “As always, you are welcome in my realm.”

She smiles at him, the conventions that the gods and goddesses must engage in upon meeting melting away. “I bring a gift, although I’m sure that you are already aware of that.”

“Thank you for being so prompt with this matter.” Michael looks up at you and takes your hand, meaning for you to step forward. “I don’t believe you’ve had the chance to meet my beloved. (Y/N), this is Billie Dean, god of border crossings and guide to the Underworld, among many other patronages.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say softly, shaking her hand.

“The pleasure is all mine. After all,” she casts a wry glance towards Michael, “we’ve only heard stories of what the Fates had told Michael about you for centuries.”

“I hope I live up to those stories, then.”

Billie Dean smiles at you, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go. “You’ve already surpassed them, my dear.”

Your cheeks heat up as the two mythical beings get back to business, Billie Dean producing a small package from the bag on her hip.

“That’s it, then?” Michael asks, staring at the box. 

“Violet requested that I transport the apple as inconspicuous as possible. This was the best I could come up with.”

“You’ve done well.”

“And with that, my work here is done.” Billie Dean nods to both of you, backing away so she can transmute without any collateral damage. “I assume I’ll be seeing a lot more of you, (Y/N). I look forward to it.”

With that, she’s gone, and you look at Michael as you process the whirlwind interaction with a woman who manages to embody the American South. “Wow, she’s…”

“She’s definitely a character,” Michael agrees. 

“Why has she always been portrayed as a man?”

Michael gives you a look that says you already know the answer. “Surely a woman would not be able to lead others, even if it’s just to the Underworld.”

The sarcasm is evident, and you roll your eyes. “Thousands of thousands of years of sexism, all wrapped up into one goddess.”

“Discouraging, isn’t it?”

“So she’s the only being who can come and go from the Underworld as she pleases?”

“Besides me, yes. Otherwise, it becomes impossible to find. Many have tried and failed to find a way into the Underworld, but the magic that surrounds this realm means that the mortal plane’s entrance seems to always be moving and changing.”

You nod, already appraising the box with a calculating eye. “Should we...open the package?”

“In my chambers. That will give us more privacy.” 

It doesn’t even register that Michael’s standing and leading you to his rooms, your attention so focused on the literal life-changing fruit that’s contained without its small cardboard home. As he closes the bedroom door behind you, you realize that you’re no longer scared. Indeed, you only feel fascination, a determination to get your hands on the legendary apple and see just what’s made so many of Ancient Greece’s heroes lose their lives in the process of earning.

“You know, I’ve never actually seen one before,” Michael says as he sets the package down on the bed.

“Seriously?”

“After what happened with Heracles, she nearly burnt the orchard down. She thought nobody was worthy of earning the gift of immortality.”

“What convinced her not to go through with it?”

“The thought of forsaking such a powerful and rare gift directly contradicts everything she stands for.”

“No offense, but if I were her and my husband, who had cheated on me, told me to grant his son immortality, I’d burn the tree to the ground.”

Michael grins, pulling you onto him as he sits on the bed. “And that’s why you’re my perfect match. I’m not interested in people who would savor the fruit of that tree. I look for people who would cut down the fucking tree and use it for firewood.”

The dark look in his eyes makes arousal pool in the bottom of your stomach, and you hungrily kiss Michael as a result. He’s more than happy to reciprocate, but pulls away far too soon for your liking. You want to complain, but his pointed look reminds you of what needs to be done. 

A flick of Michael’s wrist has the sides of the box falling open, revealing the prize hidden inside. For all intents and purposes, the apple looks like a normal apple. Besides, of course, the fact that it appears to be solid gold. The light of the chandelier reflecting off of the surface confirms that it is what Violet described it to be, and you can feel the intoxicating call of immortality wafting off of the fruit. Michael holds the apple up to you, and you take it from him wordlessly. What is there to say when your entire life is about to change with a single bite?

“I’m right here next to you the entire time,” Michael says, grasping your free hand tightly. 

Taking a deep breath, you lock eyes with Michael as you bring the fruit up to your mouth and pierce your teeth through the skin. It’s sweeter than any normal apple that you’ve had before, and you savor the taste as you take another cautious bite. Violet didn’t say how much or how little to eat, so you figure that means to just eat until something happens. 

You let out a gasp when your heart starts to speed up, body going limp as you fall back against the mattress. Although your eyes are open and appear to be staring at the ceiling, your vision whites out and stars flash in front of your eyes. Liquid gold runs through your veins, the warmth coursing through your body sending you into a euphoric state.

Michael watches you intently, studying you to make sure that nothing bad will happen to you. He doesn’t see any physical changes, which doesn’t surprise him. However, he can feel the changes that are happening. The air seems to spark around you, like you’re a live wire ready to electrocute whoever may touch you. It’s almost like he can see the change occurring inside your very cells, fortifying themselves in the eternal youth that eluded history’s greatest conquerors.

The ecstasy clouding all of your senses reaches a fever pitch, the sensory overload making it difficult for you to even feel Michael’s grip on your hand. Your heart beats at a pace to rival that of a jet engine, chest heaving as you try to remember to breathe. When the fog starts to clear, it happens sense by sense. First your thoughts, followed by your nerves and your hearing.

Michael can tell that you’ve fully completed the transition when the glaze over your eyes disappears. You blink rapidly, pupils dilated as you try to adjust. Everything’s the same, and yet nothing’s the same. Everything seems so much clearer, as if you’ve just had Lasik surgery. You’re marvelling at how the fabric of the bed feels against your skin when Michael’s chiseled face appears in your line of sight. You had been so enthralled with experiencing everything as if for the first time, that you had nearly forgotten who was sitting right next to you the entire time.

“(Y/N),” Michael whispers, and you could nearly cry at how heavenly your name sounds on his lips. “How are you feeling?”

Your lips part as you try to come up with the words to answer Michael’s question. Finally, after a long minute, you manage to breathe out a simple, “radiant.”

Michael smiles at you softly, which proves to be a surprising trigger for you. All of your emotions are running haywire, and each emotion that you feel is experienced on a level that you’ve never felt before. When Michael’s piercing blue eyes deftly analyze your face, an intense feeling of lust overcomes you. 

You catch him off guard when you surge up to kiss him, a soft gasp escaping him as your lips meet his. Using the upper hand to your advantage, you hook your legs around Michael’s waist and flip your bodies over so you’re on top of him. He stares up at you, a delightfully bewildered look on his face.

“This is...new,” he comments, threading his hands through your hair.

“Are you complaining?”

“Never.”

Rolling your hips against his, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth upon feeling his bulge against your clothed core. Although you’re both used to Michael being in charge, the new position is a welcome change for Michael as well as you, if the sparks of arousal forming deep in your abdomen are anything to go by.

“You’re a tease,” Michael mutters as you kiss down his neck, sucking purple bruises onto his beautiful porcelain skin.

“Mm, I learned from the best.”

His hands loosen around your hips so that he can remove your shirt before returning to their designated spot, helping to guide your pace. You have no time for the tedious removal of the rest of your clothes, and a wave of your hand leaves you and Michael bare.

“Never the patient one, even in your newfound immortality,” Michael remarks.

You roll your eyes, kissing him harshly to shut him up. Michael lifts your hips, making sure you get the message as he lines himself up with your entrance. You slowly sink down on his cock, both of you groaning as he stretches out your walls. Wriggling your hips to get comfortable, Michael stares up at you with blown-out pupils, biting his lip while he waits for you to start moving.

You begin to slowly ride him, rolling your hips against his and delighting in how wrecked he already looks. Tossing your head back to rid yourself of the hair that’s fallen in your face, you lift yourself up until just the tip of Michael’s cock remains sheathed inside of you before sitting yourself back down. Michael’s hand moves up from your hip to caress your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers before wrapping his lithe fingers around your throat.

Shuddering in pleasure, you ignore the burn in your thighs as you begin to ride him faster. Michael’s eyes darken even more with lust as your own hands trail up to fondle your breasts, soft gasps escaping you as you tweak your nipples harshly. Beads of sweat begin to pool along your collarbone while you bounce on Michael’s cock, your walls fluttering around him as you begin to lose your rhythm.

“Are you close?” Michael coos, giving your neck a harsh squeeze. “Are you going to cum from riding me, my queen?”

“Yes, my king,” you gasp, grinning when Michael lets out a surprised moan.

“Fuck,” his hands grab your hips tightly again, beginning to harshly thrust up into you. “Say that again.”

“Say what again?” you tease, crying out when he hits your g-spot. “My king?”

Michael’s jaw goes slack, and you lean down to kiss along his jaw. “Yes.”

“You fill me so well, my king, better than anybody ever could.” The praise starts a fire within Michael, and he starts to rub his thumb against your clit as he works to bring you to orgasm. “Fuck, I love you. You’re an amazing king and you’ll be an even better husband, I-oh!”

You cum suddenly, hips stuttering to a stop as the pleasure that had been building in your abdomen explodes throughout your body. Michael’s eyes are alight as he watches you lose yourself to the pleasure that he brings you to. He continues to fuck you through your orgasm until he finally reaches his own, cock pulsing as he releases inside of you. 

Michael pulls you to his chest, both of you breathing heavily as you come down from your highs. His bedroom is silent, the sheets a mess around you and the half-eaten apple lying discarded on the floor. You lock eyes with Michael before dissolving into giggles, the sound of your laugh leaving him no choice but to laugh too.

“Welcome to immortality,” Michael says against your bare skin as you nuzzle into his neck, more than satisfied with this welcome party.

//

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[angelic-courting-rituals]

violet wine, lunar libations - ch. 8

“Beloved, thou hast brought me many flowers”

“After I’d met you, somebody told me one day that I looked like I was in love, and I told her that I wasn’t.” He dropped his head to burrow it it into Kaworu’s shoulder. “But I was lying."

AO3 link

title namesake

[artificialqueens]

Church of the Poison Mind (Trixya) Ch. 7 - Dahlia

A/N:

SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I’ve been going through a lot of pretty heavy real life stuff, and have just basically been overwhelmed, but I am so OVERJOYED to be writing again! And I thank you so much for your patience in waiting for this chapter! Here’s hoping the final chapters follow in quick succession. Thank you so so so much for all of your kind words and messages, they keep me going!

ALSO I’M SO SORRY THIS ENTIRE CHAPTER IS JUST ANGST. You’re welcome. :)

I would not have made it through this chapter, or life in general, without my lovely lesbians DjoodiGarland and Matilda_Queen. Thank you for always being there for me and loving me through this. And to Rosie, my beautiful, sweet love. Thank you for everything, I don’t know where I’d be without you.

“What kind of daughter are you?”

There had been a lot of shouting those days, a lot of name calling, a myriad of misspoken insults that sank into her skin like injections of lost faith.

Trixie spent most of her time calling rental agencies, shaking her mother awake, getting turned down by realtor after realtor because she was, well, she was too young. And truly, how could she expect any respectable adult to take her seriously?

“You have to be at least 18 to apply.”

 I’m not.

“Is this a prank call? Where are your parents, kid?”

Hell, if I should know.

”You have to file a credit report, first.”

What’s a credit report?

“Okay so, why can’t your mother come to the phone again?”

She’s ill.

”We’ll get back to you.”

No, you won’t.

Homeless. Trixie kept thinking, homeless . If it continues on this way, the sheriff will come and evict us and we’ll be homeless. Countless nights she’d lie awake, obsessively checking her emails, relentlessly disappointed, and she’d think homeless.

She’d stopped going to school, stopped trying to wake her mother in time for the truancy officers, in time for CPS, and family services. And nobody looked at her the same, they always held the same disgustingly patronizing eyes. Poor trixie, her mother doesn’t care, her mother can’t care, her mother had forgotten to care.

But still, they shrugged her case off. Afterall, there’d been no evidence of physical abuse. Trixie appeared well fed, well kempt. And this allowed for more time, for more phone calls and rejections. Allowed for more empty booze bottles and prescription refills, piling sinks full of dishes and dirty carpets.

And soon she found herself asking, “What kind of a daughter am I?”

—

“I’m very sorry, we… I should not have done this. It was inappropriate of me.”

“Katya…”

Through the fog of lost sleep and Russian folk flowing tinny through the car speakers, Trixie rubbed the sleep from her eyes, stealing glances from her seat on the passenger’s side. Katya’s eyes were narrowed and stolid as she drove, focused on the road, pale hair spilling out in heaps over her thin shoulders. And neither of them spoke, the ever-thickening gravity of the night before weighing on them like a fever dream. Trixie felt tender but weary, fearful. She wanted more, so much more than the situation could allow.

Somewhere, on some plane, Trixie knew that this was fleeting; that any feeling Katya might’ve held for her, couldn’t be sustainable. And she could feel the regret, hanging bitter in the air between them, that even though they hadn’t done anything measurable, it was the tenderness that stung the most. The cloying need for sweetness, need for more, contradicted by the wavering inability to act; but still, she yearned for Katya’s touch, for that laugh, and those wide, curious eyes.

The sun came into full view then, but the hour was still just as pale blue as the shine in Katya’s eyes. And as they pulled up to Trixie’s house, much to her surprise, Katya didn’t look over, but stayed steely, eyes cast over the dashboard. And Trixie sighed complacently, as the warmth had seeped out of Katya’s smile somewhere between Main street, and Beacon drive.

Trixie sat for a moment, quiet in her breathing, searching the side of Katya’s face, silently willing Katya to turn her head. Her sight followed the deep plunge of Katya’s cheekbones, down her neck, her freckled chest; and Trixie wanted nothing more than to reach out and let a hand fall to the back of Katya’s neck, but she resisted.

And just then, with a subtle haste, Katya sent her arm across the center console, over Trixie’s chest, and opened the passenger’s side door.

Confident there was nothing more to be said, she flipped a brief nod of thanks and turned in her seat to step down, but before she could, the light brush of Katya’s fingers found her cheek. And Trixie turned her head to meet Katya’s eyes, just as bright and heavenly as they were the night before, but riddled now with penitence. Trixie closed her eyes, leaning her cheek into Katya’s palm, a deep exhale leaving her like a calm under the waves. Softly, she opened her eyes, took in one last glance, and stepped out of the car, closing the door gently behind her.

Soon Trixie was watching Katya pull away, her car stalling at first, and then kicking up dust as it descended the graveled drive. A chill ran through her, smooth in the November air; and Trixie found herself, bleary eyed and sullen, missing the cardigan she’d forgotten in Katya’s back seat. All the while hopeful, incredibly hopeful, that its presence would carry Katya back to her.

With a forbearing sigh, Trixie carried herself up the porch steps and pushed through the front door. She entered, closed it quietly behind her, and tiptoed through the kitchen, kicking off her shoes by the basement door.

“Well, aren’t we getting in late…”

Trixie turned with a start, her heart skipping a beat. Kim was sat at the kitchen window seat, spooning heaps of sugar into a steaming mug of tea. And as the steam crept into the air, an image of last night’s coffee churned in the pit of Trixie’s stomach. Then she was desperate for it, remnants of that memory still latent on the burnt tip of her tongue.

“Or should I say,” Kim spoke again with a curt grin, “early? Given it’s 5am.”

“Okay, mom. I could ask you the same thing. What’re you doing here so early?”

“Waiting for you.”

“What, why?” Trixie chuckled, scanning Kim’s face.

Trixie crossed the kitchen floor and headed for the coffee maker, her hip brushing Kim’s protruding knee as she passed by. Her head ached with exhaustion, and while she was thankful for the comforting gurgle of coffee brewing, she felt irritable, raw; unsure if the coffee would help or hurt. Trixie laid her upper body over the center counter top, her elbows resting on the surface; and she closed her eyes, self-soothing, rubbing slow circles into her temples.

“So, you did forget?”

“Forget wh-” Trixie stopped, slowed, “oh, shit. Kim, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot we had- I just got so caught up in… wait, so you sat here all night… waiting for me? Why didn’t you just call me?”

“Well, no dummy, I’m not a freak. I woke up a little while ago. And I did call you, last night. But your phone was off.”

Trixie patted around her pockets, and upon finding her phone, ran her fingertips over the surface; the tips of her nails catching in the cracks of last year’s shatter. And while she powered it on, a soft silence hung in the air between her and Kim.

↳ Kim: hey, i just got in, pearl’s cooking again, im whispering tiny prayers for the safety of your kitchen. you leave school yet?

↳ 1 Missed Call: Kim

↳ Kim: Violet said she hasn’t seen you all afternoon, are you okay?

↳ Kim: say yes to the dress is starting in like 5 mins, do you want me to wait… or???? should I just assume I get to indulge in ALL of these facemasks by myself??

↳ Kim: yoooooo my skin abouta be TIGHT

↳ 6 Missed Calls: Caller ID Restricted

↳ Kim: ok it’s literally 1am, where tf are you????? im getting kind of worried here. ive had to stop violet from calling the police like 6 times

↳ 2 Missed Calls: Kim

↳ 11 Missed Calls: Caller ID Restricted

She shook a wave of anxiety and returned her gaze to Kim.

“I… I’m so sorry, I just, my-”

“You were with her again, weren’t you?”

“What?”

“Listen, I’m worried about you, Trix,” her tone softened, and Trixie met her gaze through clouds of coffee steam, “you-”

“Listen Kim, I’ve had kind of a shitty morning and it’s like dick o’clock and I really don’t have th-”

“You’ve just, you’ve been spending a lot of time with her, Trixie.”

“Excuse me? Are you policing who I spend my time with now?” Trixie said, still joking, but a little sharper than she’d intended.

Speech suspended for a moment as Kim drew in a long breath, and exhaled on a quiet sigh.

“Okay. First of all, chill. I just mean that… Listen, Trix, she seems sweet, she really does, but there’s some nasty stuff going around about her and I just don’t want to see you mixed up in that.”

Trixie could feel a bubbling heat rising in her chest, up her neck, spreading into a rouge across her cheeks. She poured the coffee into a mug, some splashing onto the countertop, and found herself rifling through the spice rack for cinnamon; she needed something to shake Katya’s impassivity, to bring her back to last night’s loveliness; but the scent alone burned Katya’s image in the back of her mind, a picture so clear of her face, so cold and distant.

She sipped slowly, cinnamon catching at the back of her throat, and somewhere in all of the coughing, Kim’s patronization had crept beneath her skin and set the surface ablaze.

“Honestly Kim, I love you, but it’s too early for this shit. And thinking about it now, literally none of this is even remotely your business. You don’t know anything about her,” Trixie said, biting. Her headache raged on, a sour pang radiating from the back of her neck. And she could tell she was overreacting, creating something out of nothing; but she couldn’t help but fall farther into it.

“Trixie, I’m your friend. I’m just saying, you always do thi-”

“Well, don’t just say . I’m stressed enough about this as it is, and I don’t need you, of all people, making this harder on me! You’re always on me about this kind of shit, and I don’t need it right now!”

“Wow, okay. You make plans with me. Break them. Fuck your teacher. And somehow, I’m in the wrong? Since when is carin-”

“I did not fuc- did you ever stop and think, for maybe even a millisecond, that the reason I’m spending all of this time with her is because you keep ditching me?”

“Trixie, do not put this on me. You always do this.”

“Do what?” Trixie snapped.

“You always turn things around on me! I’ve literally done nothing wrong here!” Kim stood then from the window seat.

“Oh, so it’s perfectly okay for you to promise me a ride, and then leave me stranded like three times a week, but the one time I make a human mist- “

“I’ve done so much for you, Trixie! This is not one human mistake . I knew you’d find some way to fuck this up. You know, I bust my ass day and night, and everyone fucking wants something from me. I give, and I give, and all you do is take,” Kim interrupted, throwing her hands into the air, and letting them fall hard to her sides.

Trixie watched the argument unravel from a space outside of her own body. She could see the anger leaving Kim in harsh waves; and though the salt water stung, stirred bitter words in her own mouth that threatened escape, she was able to rationalize, self sooth. She couldn’t fully give herself to the argument, knowing that this was long awaited for Kim, that maybe all the stress and chaos had finally gotten to her.

A person could only bend so far before it broke them, could only expend so much before they were due. And Kim, generous and giving as they come, had spent countless hours of her life twisting and contorting her time to fit the moulds of other people; but the words still hurt, still rang of distant memories of her mother’s disappointment, of rage and of acid.

“Fuck what up?” Trixie took a step back, her mind racing.

“Nothing, just forget it.”

“No, you have something to say, say it. You’re not my mother Kim, I don’t need you to take care of me.”

“Oh, that’s rich! You know, I might as well be your mother. Who the fuck do you think found you this place when your actual mother threw you out? Who got you the job you quit because it was,” Kim pulled her fingers into air quotations, “too much? Paid your rent when you couldn’t. Who busted her ass getting you into this school? You can’t commit to anything Trixie, and now, NOW, you’ve gone and figured out the ONE way you can fuck up school, too! I hope Katya’s worth it I really do. Because when administration finds out, you’re both fucked .”

A knot twisted tightly in Trixie’s stomach.

“Stop bringing her into this! You don’t know anything about her! Or me for that matter, clearly. But obviously , you have a lot to say,” Trixie said, almost shouting.

“You think she cares about you? You’re wrong, Trix. You need to grow up, really. She’s using you, just like she did Phi Phi. And when this all blows up in your face, like everything always does, you’re gonna come crying to me. And you know what? I won’t be here.”

Just then, a small noise from the staircase caught their attention. They turned their heads to find two thin figures perched at the top, eyes wide and watching. And Pearl opened her mouth to speak, but Trixie was out the door, leaving her coffee steaming on the counter.

—

Kim’s words, heated and stinging, followed her like a phantom down the darkened halls of her university. And while it hurt, ached a sore plight down the center of her chest, she knew that everything Kim said had been right. She’d been a bad friend, taken too much and given too little. And she could hear her mother’s words too, fresh as the day they were spoken, like silent criminals come to steal her composure.

Autopilot carried her to Katya’s class, wearing the same clothes as yesterday, in the same cracked makeup down her cheeks. Their eyes met and unmet constantly, knowing, each glance holding space a little longer than it should’ve. And Trixie felt as though she could cry at any moment, as the dull ache in her head echoed through the back of her skull, and the glaring need for escape ravaged all the spaces in between. She felt trapped, cornered, unable to escape Katya’s eyes; though she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to. She wanted someone to see her, that she was sure of. Someone to see passed the façade and tell her that it was all going to be okay; and she wanted that someone to be Katya; but some things just couldn’t be, and she was learning then, slowly but surely, that she had to make peace with that. Maybe they could come out of this on top, settle for glances and smiles, chats after class, and maybe, just maybe, Trixie could forget the rush. And if not forget, then settle for a dull ache of what could’ve been.

5 Missed Calls .

Class flew by in a blurred rush of muted anxiety, Trixie auto piloting her way through the motions, all the while hoping she could slip out near the end unnoticed; but much to her dismay, as Trixie had anticipated, the end of class found Katya beelining for Trixie’s desk, and any interaction between them became suddenly unavoidable.

“Listen, Tracy, I’m… I’m very sorry about last night, about this morning, I would never want to make you feel uncomfortable,” Katya started.

“Katya don’t, really. It’s fine, you haven’t don-”

“I think it would be… in better interest, if I didn’t drive you home anymore.”

“I don’t understand,” Trixie said, picking absently at the corner of her thumb nail.

“We can’t do thi-”

“We haven’t done anything.”

“You know what I mean.”

Trixie stood for a moment and let everything sink in, their eyes meeting.

Katya reached for Trixie’s left hand and brought it gingerly to her lips. So tender, so domestic. She placed a soft kiss on Trixie’s knuckle, then let their hands drift together to the left side of her chest. And through the cotton of Katya’s blouse, Trixie could feel the quick drumming of her heart, could see in her eyes a great fear, but also a great acceptance.

“I know,” Trixie said quietly, pulling her hand back.

She turned on a slow heal and started for the door; leaving Katya, small and teary eyed, stark in the middle of the room. And as Trixie stole a final glance, the light of the projector cast her silhouette like a specter across the back wall that sunk into the floor while the door swung shut behind her.

She’d only gotten a few steps down the hall before tears began spilling down her cheeks, probably carrying mascara with them. And Trixie blotted the space beneath her eyes, covertly avoiding eye contact with Jinkx as she passed her down the main hall just before the stairs.

7 Missed Calls.

 —

 She found herself outside then, heading toward the employee parking lot, under the usual tuck of trees that arched against the rain almost protectively overhead. Though many of the leaves had fallen and sunken into the grounds, there had been just enough to provide her shelter, and she stood for a few beats before realizing Katya wasn’t going to come; then again, neither would Kim. Trixie shivered as the cold hit her, her breath evident in the brisk, and she coiled into herself, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her hips.

She patted around her pockets and produced a crumpled twenty dollar bill, that she smoothed against her books and tucked into the side of her bra, the very last of that week’s allowance. While she scrolled through her phone in search of a taxi company, though they were sparse in these parts, she watched as cars puttered by her, subtly hoping to see Katya’s round the drive.

Before she could hit call, her phone lit up again, buzzing in her palm; a contact photo, her at a young age, eyes bright and glittering, a cheesy smile. And her mother, younger, less weathered, hair still long and curly, thin fingers pinching Trixie’s cheeks.

Until then, the calls seemed more like a minor nuisance, just a permanent fixture on the dashboard of her notifications, but now it cut deep; reminded her of all that she’d lost, all that she’d never regain. And she did something she hadn’t done in months, hadn’t done since Kim had found her and brought her here, she answered . And it went just as swimmingly as she might’ve guessed.

“I’ve been calling you for weeks,” a gravely voice slurred through the phone line.

“Are you, are you drunk?”

“What kind of daughter would ask that?”

Soon there was shouting. And Trixie lost all awareness of her environment, her surrounding; but she knew people were watching, she just simply forgot to care. And tears were spilling out of her, falling onto her shirt, tangling with the rain water washing down her skin.

The air was cold, her fingers red and pruning, phone pressed firmly into her cheek. Everything was spinning and far from sound, and as her mother continued her lamentation, Trixie grew more tense, more unabsolved. She felt trapped suddenly, by all of the forces outside of her own body, controlling her, prodding and pulling like the strings of a marionette. And she came to a startling realization; her life, wasn’t hers. This wasn’t what she wanted, this wasn’t who she wanted to be.

Before she could even hang up the phone, someone was tugging at her arm, pulling her gently from the rain, and from the watching eyes. Guiding her down into a car, her boots finding the comforting crush of empty coffee cups and to-go wrappers. And her phone found its way back into her pocket, as did her fingers, numb from the cold that she pressed into her thighs.

They drove in mostly silence, down familiar roads that were slick now with sleet. And the squeaking of the windshield wipers held an almost deafening stance against the silence.

“Tracy… Ar-”

“Please, Katya. Please , don’t.” Trixie said, drying her cheeks with the sleeves of her sweater.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier, I just… You can still talk to me, you know.”

“No, I can’t. I really can’t.”

Just then, Katya pulled her car swiftly off of the road, hitting the curb and throwing the gears into park. She took off her seatbelt so she could turn to meet Trixie’s gaze.

“What are we doing here?”

“I want to talk to you. I want you to talk to me, there’s n-”

“You know what,” Trixie said, unfastening her seatbelt, “I really can’t. And you know damn well why I can’t.”

“I am not understanding this.”

“Because, Katya! I fucking want you, I want us, I want…” Trixie threw her hands into the air in exasperation, “this! And I’m so sick of everyone in my life telling me what to do, and who to be. Even you! Everyone is always… god, I don’t know! I’m so fucking overwhelmed all of the time by this expectation of who I’m supposed to be, how I’m supposed to act. I have never, ever, not once in my life, not had to fight for every single thing that I have and I’m sick of it. I’m my own person, we are both fucking adults and we can make our own decisi-”

Before she could finish, Katya’s hands were over the center console, pulling her face close, their lips finally meeting.

—

And suddenly her fingers are on me, in my hair, running down my neck. Our mouths meeting like it’s the first time, gliding swiftly over one another, melding us as one exchange of impassioned energy. And her breath is warm, and sweet, intoxicating . Everything I need. Devastatingly, so. From the light of the cars in passing, flickering across her skin, I can see every unspoken word, escaping into the expanse. She wants me, and I want her, and this may be fleeting but I’ve forgotten to care as her hands stroke passed my hair and down my back, sliding with a quick and heavy rhythm like she’s striking a match. Every ounce of angst in me cries out for her, yearns to be closer, to be deeper, to love long and speak sweeter. And I’m falling into her hard, like I’ve never fallen before-

 —

Their lips parted as Katya pulled away with haste, her eyes squeezing shut.

“Trixie, Trixie, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have, we can’t do this!” Katya tensed, her accent thicker than ever.

And all of the spinning inside of Trixie stopped, her expression blank, eyes blinking quick and without rhythm. Her skin flushed, hot embers fading into gray coals.

“ Trixie ?” She said in a hushed exasperation, realizing that it was the first time she’d ever heard the name leave Katya’s lips.

“We can’t, I’m so sorry. I just, I care about you so much but we… we can’t Trix-”

“Why not? WHY NOT? You just said it, you care about me! Katya, please, not you too, you can’t do this to me, too. I can’t handle someone else telling me what I ca-”

“Trixie, please try and understand… I’m so so-”

“You know what. Save it. ”

And with that, Trixie was climbing out of the car, the garbage underfoot kicking out onto the sidewalk.

[loloinlove]

The Ever After - Ch. 2

Also on AO3 - Here

They finished their walk an hour or two later, neither feeling the need to rush to join everyone at the house. They had heard the carriages that held the rest of the Bridgertons arriving earlier and Penelope was thankful that they didn't go inside to join them immediately.

It wasn't that she wasn't fond of the Bridgertons, but they were a little more boisterous than her own family, and she hadn't quite gotten used to it. She'd known the Bridgertons for most of her life, and though she had spent a fair bit of time with them over the years, it had been a touch overwhelming to be around sudden bursts of noise constantly. Her own family was loud at times, but it was usually in the form of her Mama yelling at the staff or her and her sisters about something or another. The yelling had only gotten worse after her Papa had died several years before and their mother was forced to take over the handling of the estate.

The walk back to the house had Penelope dreading every moment of what was to come after their lunch. She would be whisked away by Violet and Daphne to get ready for her wedding, and as much as she wished she could escape the events of the day, she knew the idea was an impossibility. Her mother had been particularly vicious the last time they'd spoken, to the point that Penelope was fairly certain that they would not be speaking for a rather long amount of time, and Anthony had rescinded the invitation to their wedding. It would be a small scandal once the invited members of the Ton realized that her mother would not be in attendance, but Penelope hadn't cared when the thought occurred to her. As far as she was concerned she would only ever see her Mama again at societal events, and only at a distance.

When the two of them stepped foot into Hastings house once more, Penelope heard everyone before she saw them, and found that though it was louder than before, the noise level wasn't truly awful. Everyone would be sitting down for the afternoon meal shortly, if the smells coming from the direction of the kitchen were anything to go by, and she found that she was looking forward to it. She had missed Eloise the past few days she had been at Hastings house with mostly Daphne for company. Not that she disliked Daphne, but she hadn't been as close to the oldest Bridgerton daughter as mainly Eloise and- Eloise had taken most of her attention. As a Viscountess she would be required to attend many of the same events, as well as host several of her own throughout the year. The advice that Daphne had given her would definitely help things along when the time came, but she still felt ill-suited for the role she was to fulfill.

She hadn't been raised to secure a match of such a high station, and in reality, she really hadn't as they'd mostly had no choice about the matter once Anthony had decided to save her. He had been an absolute gentleman throughout their engagement, taking her out for promenades when she felt up to it, making sure she was comfortable at Bridgerton house, he had even resumed staying at his bachelor lodgings to keep within the bounds of propriety during their admittedly short courtship. There were even flowers waiting for her every morning in the drawing room freshly delivered, usually with a note reminding her to get enough rest or remember to eat, once he even wrote her a note with a joke in it that she kept inside a book on her bedside table. She mainly used it as a bookmark but just seeing it there helped remind her that the Bridgertons cared about her. 

She couldn't help but compare her courtship with Anthony, as well as the relatively charmed life she would now lead, to the fate she'd almost had as Lady Berbrooke. She'd heard secondhand from Eloise about how repulsive the man was but hadn't thought he could descend into such depravity. Sure she'd reported that he'd had a bastard child by a maid the previous season, and now after having spoken to both Daphne and Violet, she better understood just how close-

With only Phillipa wed and two daughters still at home her mother hadn't been in a position to turn down anyone who had a title, and certainly not a Baron asking for her hand, even with a dowry as small as hers had been. They'd had to gather most of the resources they had left in order to get an acceptably sized dowry for her, and they'd still been short of it by several hundred pounds, but Berbrooke hadn't seemed to care about that fact. At the time she'd put it down to the previous season's scandal about the maid and the illegitimate child, wanting to be married and be done, but after everything that happened...she chose not to think of it.

The walk through Hastings house was fairly quick as they were shown to the smaller dining room where the family was gathered around the large table getting settled and chatting amongst themselves. It was a welcome sight to see Eloise again, and though she would love nothing more than for the two of them to go upstairs while everyone ate, she knew they wouldn't be able to. 

Benedict saw her first and nudged Eloise, who looked to be in the middle of starting up one of her rants, and in an instant, she was out of her seat walking toward Penelope. Violet gently disengaged their arms and went over to sit by Hyacinth and Gregory, who looked to be several seconds away from launching themselves over the table at each other. It warmed Penelope's heart to see that some things hadn't really changed, but only for a moment as Eloise was standing in front of her and looked to be about ready to combust if they didn't speak.

"Pen, oh how I've missed you," She said, grabbing Penelope in a fierce bus still gentle hug.

"Eloise, it has only been three days since we've last seen each other," Penelope said, returning Eloise's hug before gently pulling back.

"I always miss you when you're not around, Pen, you know that," Eloise answered softly, showing a rare moment of vulnerability.

"Oh, Eloise," Penelope said, trying not to cry.

Eloise was headstrong and hated society and everything that came along with being out on the marriage mart. She came off as abrasive to a lot of people, especially those unfamiliar with her mannerisms, but Penelope wouldn't trade their friendship even if someone offered her all the stars in the sky. Violet had been correct that they'd very quickly become friends, but to Penelope, it had always felt like Eloise was her sister and she knew Eloise felt the same way, even though she didn't show it too often.

Eloise reached for her hand and gently squeezed it, and a feeling of such warmth rose in her that she pulled Eloise back in for another hug. Knowing that she and Eloise would be sisters by the end of the day brought her immense comfort.

Penelope linked their arms together and the two of them went over to join the rest of the family for lunch. Gregory and Hyacinth were both sulking in their chairs, their fighting having been put to a stop by their mother, and the only seats left were between Franchesca and Anthony, specifically the spot meant for the Viscountess and another to the left of it, and Penelope's stomach twisted at the thought of sitting in that chair.

She knew that logically no one at the table would intentionally hurt her, but she hadn't quite gotten used to the idea of being Anthony's wife. She'd had several weeks to get used to the thought of becoming the new Viscountess Bridgerton, but her mind had been taken up with other things and darker thoughts. She supposed that she should have had some form of thought occur to her about how her life was going to change, but mostly she'd been dreading everything that was supposed to happen later that afternoon.

Anthony was a wonderful person, and she knew he thought he was doing the honorable thing, which she could never fault him for, but she didn't really know him as well as she did with Eloise and Colin. Eloise always talked about how busy Anthony always was, and all the ways she disagreed with him about everything, but Penelope herself had never really spoken to him any longer than it took for pleasantries. He was slightly intimidating to her, even as her savior, and she still hadn't been able to really look him in the eye over the last several weeks that she had been staying with the Bridgertons. He had tried to speak to her several times, though it had always been an awkward and stilted affair, and she had to wonder if she made him nervous, or if he didn't like her, which she didn't think was true as he had always been very kind and courteous when he had caught her waiting for Eloise.

She decided to put it out of her mind as there was nothing for it. She didn't have the luxury of being able to beg off, as her Mama had made it abundantly clear the last time they spoke that their family would no longer support her if she didn't marry Anthony. She had enough Whistledown money to keep her fed and housed for a while, but certainly not enough to last her a lifetime.

She felt a nudge from Eloise, who was still waiting to sit while Penelope had been lost in her thoughts. Penelope's face flamed at her embarrassment. Nobody commented on her behavior, as they tended not to do lately except to see if she was alright, and hastily sat down to lunch.

Once the food was served, Daphne dismissed the staff waiting on them and told them to get some rest while they could. Conversation started up easily after that, everyone chatting while they served themselves. Anthony sat mostly quiet on her right, only offering up one or two-word answers any time someone tried to engage him. Eventually, everyone seemed to understand that he wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone. He sat there brooding, mostly pushing his food around his plate, refusing to look anyone in the eye. Penelope tried not to take it to heart as she understood that it wasn't just her life that was being affected and it would be an adjustment for everyone involved.

Penelope let him have his peace as she spoke with Eloise and Daphne about various subjects, none of which were about the wedding taking place that afternoon. Everyone seemed keen to keep to less serious topics of conversation and Penelope found herself enjoying the lunch, loudness and all.

Close to the end of their lunch one of the Bridgerton's footmen came in and spoke quietly to Anthony, shooting a look in Penelope's direction. There was a new tenseness to the atmosphere that only got worse when Anthony motioned for the footman to make whatever announcement he was there to make.

"Lady Crane to see Miss Featherington," he said, before quickly bowing and leaving the room.

[loloinlove]

The Ever After - Ch 1

Also on AO3 - Here

The view from the drawing room of Hastings house afforded Penelope a gorgeous spot to watch the sun rise over Hyde Park in the distance, a sight she'd never been privy to until coming to stay with the Duke and Duchess of Hastings. It was singularly gorgeous and she wished Benedict was there so she could ask him to paint it. He would no doubt capture it perfectly, though he was humble about his skill, as she had noticed the really good artists were. He would one day have to accept her praise, as it was true that not everyone got to be personally trained by Henry Granville, and she was sure she would be seeing his work in galleries soon enough.

As the sun rose, Penelope felt the stirrings of the last wisps of peace and calm wash over her. In not but a couple of hours Hastings house would be taken over by a pack of Bridgertons and Lady Danbury, all eager to see her wed later that afternoon. She wished she could muster up the same enthusiasm as Lady Bridgerton and Daphne had, especially as they had planned everything themselves, but she just couldn't bring herself to find more than the barest traces of joy that at the very least, she wouldn't have to suffer her mother's presence once she was married and safely ensconced at Aubrey Hall for the last few weeks of the season. Anthony had promised her that she need only return for the Queen's end-of-season ball, which they were required to attend, but then they would be heading back to Aubrey Hall for the rest of the off-season. Penelope was looking forward to it, as one of the other things Anthony had promised her was almost complete freedom within their lands. She could go walking around the gardens, go into town to the modiste or the bookshop, or even take a ride on the horse Anthony had gotten for her as a rather extravagant engagement gift. Penelope had never seen a horse so huge, and she had been a little wary of riding him, but Anthony had assured her that she would be perfectly safe, and had even offered her lessons if she would like. Penelope had appreciated the thought, though she knew it would be a while before she would take him up on his offer.

The doctor had told her it would take time for her to heal, and that she should take plenty of rest when she needed it, but she certainly didn't feel anywhere close to healed. She rested constantly, often feeling overwhelmed by the noise at Bridgerton house, and though she had been able to walk the grounds after a week in bed, somewhere in her felt stolen, like something was taken from her and she would never get it back.

Sometimes, she could forget about the feeling.

The quiet solace she found with Violet out in the garden while they walked, where she was not expected to be anything other than Penelope, was one of her favorite times of the day. Sometimes they talked, usually when Penelope was near to driving herself mad with her thoughts, but mostly they spent the time walking quietly, admiring the gardens in the early afternoon light.

On the days when the tug of loss feels stronger, Franchesca fills the drawing room with soft music on the pianoforte and Eloise joins her on the smallest settee where they curl up and read a book together until Penelope felt the need for rest once more and cloistered herself into the rooms they had graciously provided for her.

There are days the feeling overtakes her and it feels less like loss and more like a chasm has opened within her, pulling her down and down and down until her body feels shackled in place as if moving is an impossibility. Those days, Daphne comes to sit with her in her rooms, quietly reading a book, and other times just doing needlework and quietly humming.

A quiet knock interrupted her thoughts before they could darken further, and a maid slipped in to let her know that Violet Bridgerton had arrived to see her, and before Penelope could inquire, she was assured that Lady Bridgerton was alone, save for her lady's maid. Penelope slowly breathed out relaxing a little, feeling thankful that she was not expected to face so many people at such an earlier hour.

 Penelope slowly made her way down to the foyer to greet her future mother-in-law, noticing that the house was busier than she thought, getting the house ready to host quite a few members of the Ton. Daphne and the Duke had graciously offered their home for the wedding and reception afterward. They called it a wedding gift, but Penelope knew that it was really to keep her mother at bay.

As she walked through Hastings house she admired all of the artwork on display, especially when she got to the one of his Grace's mother. Sarah Hastings had been a gorgeous and unbelievably kind woman and she felt a deep sadness that the Duke had never gotten to meet the woman that bore him into the world.

Penelope couldn't imagine what it had been like to grow up without a mother, but sometimes she tried.

Violet's soft voice interrupted her thoughts as she descended the stairs, once more pulling her from the morose thoughts her mind had conjured. Penelope greeted the current Lady Bridgerton with a smile and a small curtsey.

"Good morning, dearest," Violet said, giving Penelope one of her small smiles. "I thought that we could take an early walk in the gardens this morning."

"That would be lovely, thank you," answered Penelope returning Violet's smile and offering her arm as they walked through Hastings house, trying to stay out of the way of the staff as they prepared for the ceremony.

It was a gorgeous morning, with dew still on the grass, a light breeze, and birds chirping in the distance. It was peaceful and Penelope wanted to bask in the feeling for as long as she could. They didn't speak as they walked along, and when they were far enough away from the house that they couldn't possibly be overheard, Violet sighed and slowed to a stop before turning to face Penelope.

"Oh, my darling girl," she started, bringing her hand up to brush one of Penelope's curls out of her face and gently cradle her cheek.

Penelope watched as the Matriarch of the Bridgerton clan grew misty-eyed. She wanted to say something, anything, to alleviate the growing ache in her chest-

"I know it is not under the best of circumstances, but I can not tell you how overjoyed I am that you will officially become a member of this family, though sooner than I had originally thought. I had known that you and Eloise would be great friends from the moment you two met, I'm sure I've never seen a friendship formed as quickly in all my years, and as you grew older, first into a young lady and now into such a beautiful and kind-hearted woman, it has been a pleasure to see you flourish through the years. Anyone would be lucky to have such a person in their lives, and I have always loved having you in mine. I ... hope you know that none of us hold any ill will towards you, nor do we blame you for what happened. We all know that none of this was of your choosing, and we are here for you. You are family, and as you may have noticed over the years, we do love each other quite a bit, and that has always extended to you as well."

Penelope was in tears by the time the older woman was done speaking, and it took her several minutes to collect herself enough that she could thank the woman for her kind words.

"If I may, what did you mean when you said I was joining your family sooner than you had thought?" Penelope asked, still sniffling.

Violet let out a laugh and gently squeezed Penelope's arm before putting it back through hers to resume their walk in the gardens.

"I had always thought that you might have married Benedict, as you are both artistic in nature, but I must admit that in a way I am glad it will be Anthony. Life has been very hard on both of you, and it is my dearest hope that you two will have a strong marriage because of it and take the opportunity to learn and grow together," Violet said, stopping to admire a particularly gorgeous patch of roses.

Penelope couldn't help but giggle at hearing Benedict's name chosen as a potential match for her, but she understood why Violet would think they could have been good for each other. Benedict was a kind person, as all Violet's children were, and less caring of the rules and roles society dictated. Penelope, being seen as someone outside of what society expected, had been placed on the outskirts as well, though not through choice like the second eldest Bridgerton.

"I would also very much like it if we could spend time together during the off-season going over what you'll need to know to handle the role of Viscountess," Violet continued, "I have the utmost faith in you, of course, this just means we'll still have time for our walks, as I do so enjoy the peace and solitude."

Penelope smiled and leaned in a little closer to Violet as they continued on, wondering if this was what it was like being comforted by one's mother, and deciding that she could get used to it.

[artificialqueens]

City of Stars Ch. 7 (Pearlet) - Leatwerpenn

A/N - Hi everyone. I have a pretty crazy week next week so i’m posting now just in case I don’t have time! Apologies for some of the errors in formatting the previous chapter. Some stuff was bold that shouldn’t have been. Very confusing!

Anyway, another chapter. It is now summer, and again, slight smut warning.

Enjoy :)

Chapter 7 (2011) 5 Years Before. LA. Summer.

Matt lay lounging on Violet’s bed as she sat, butt naked, applying make-up for that day. They were going out into downtown LA to look at perspective places for Matt’s bar. Jason had awoke feeling like Violet today, so, she painted her face to perfection while Matt watched in fascination.

“One day, will you paint me?” Matt asked timidly as he watched Violet apply false lashes. She turned and flashed her beautiful smile at Matt.

“Of course dork. Oh my god, I’m so excited!” Violet said, as she completed her transformation. She then stood up and placed a messy lipstick coated kiss on Matt’s lips. She then looked back to admire her work. “I don’t think red is your colour.” She laughed, returning back to her mirror to check her lipstick hadn’t smudged.

Matt rolled out of bed and made his way to Violets bathroom. A lot for Matt had changed in the short time they had been together. He had quickly gathered his belongings and had moved in with Jason and Violet. Kurtis was now living with Patrick, so the timing couldn’t have been better.

His piano was now located in Kurtis’ old bedroom, along with his collection of jazz memorabilia. Apart from that, Matt didn’t have many belongs to call his own. He was gutted that Courtney insisted that she keep most of their vintage car collection; but she had let him keep his favourite. He promised to pay her back when he could, which she agreed to. For that, he was thankful.

Matt looked at himself in the mirror while he waited for the water in the shower to heat up. He looked different… Happier and more confident in himself. He found his heart constantly felt warm these days.

He showered and wrapped the towel around him. It hung low on his hips as he swaggered back into the bedroom to get changed. Violet was now sitting ready for the day, on her bed with piles of paperwork spread across it. She had a determined look on her face as she continued to work. Matt thought she was her cutest when she concentrated. She bit her lip. Fucking adorable – He Thought.

Jason didn’t end up getting the part that had been spoken about in ‘Hurts.’ Which he took to heart. Ever since he found out, Jason spent most of his time as Violet. Matt thought he was using Violet as an escape from the rejection. He just hoped they were both okay.

“What you working on today Pumpkin?” Matt asked, as he got changed into his trademark jogging bottoms.

“I’m just trying to figure out this costume change between scenes, I’m considering maybe recording something and having it projected? Or, I could change behind a screen so you could see the shadows? What do you think?” Violet’s eyes looked so golden to Matt in that moment.

Since the rejection, Violet had decided to take things into her own hands. She really wanted to write, produce, direct and star in her own one woman show. She was hoping to combine all of her creative assets and produce a burlesque/cabaret hybrid show. Matt was just happy she was focusing on her own passions after expressing to him how lost Jason left after losing out on the audition.

“I really like the changing idea with the screen actually, especially if you had the lighting right. Could be beautiful.” Matt towel dried his hair as he walked over to Violet.

This was how they got ready most mornings. Talking about their passions, laughing, and making love. They both worked odd hours, but they always seemed to make time for one another. Matt had never felt this way before. Was this what true love felt like?

Matt grabbed his phone from the side and pulled Violet into his lap. He kissed her on the cheek as he held his phone out to take a picture. He didn’t know it yet, but this would be his favourite.

_______________________________________

Violet felt sorry for Matt. They had just been to look at a perspective property and he didn’t get ‘the feeling’.

He had been doing nothing but hunting for properties ever since he and his girlfriend broke up. Matt’s passion had driven Violet to follow her path. She felt like he bought the best out in her.

But lately, Matt had been getting more and more frustrated about the properties not feeling right, or being in the wrong location, or being too expensive. Violet felt Matt’s frustration, as all of the places they had looked at were horrible. LA was overpriced and achievable.

“Vi, I’m seriously considering changing locations. I can’t afford LA. Or, maybe I need another job. God, if I wasn’t so shit at playing piano maybe I could make us more money. Fuck!” Matt rarely got angry, but every now and then Violet saw little sparks of the guy that hollered at her in the traffic that day. This was one of those moments. She giggled at his attempt to be butch.

“Calm down, c’mon. Let’s go to Charlie’s.” She held his hand and stroked the back with her thumb to try and calm him. She placed a kiss on his lips and dragged him towards the car.

Violet loved fussing over Matt. It made her forget her problems. Truth be told, she hadn’t felt like being Jason lately. Jason had really wanted the ‘Hurts’ role he had gone for. He had sat by the phone for days, waiting, praying, that they hadn’t called because they were finally figuring out a script. Turns out, the network the job was for wasn’t interested in having a ‘feminine’ man in the show. Max explained on the phone it wasn’t because he was gay, and that she loved him and wanted to work with him in the future. Jason however, felt like it was another attack from narrow minded people. He felt like he was re-living high school all over again. He and Violet hated it. When Violet had her show figured out. She was going to invite Max, and the network, and she was going to make sure she got a job from it.

She never told Matt the reason why Jason didn’t get the role. But the pain that rejection had caused Jason only made her more determined to succeed.

Violet stared out of the car window as they drove to Matt’s work. She had her hand placed on his, as they drove across the city. She often sat in the bar or danced the night away while Matt worked. He had convinced Charlie to introduce Jazz Night on Tuesday’s; where you could listen to the local talent fight through the form of music till the early hours of the morning. Charlie only allowed you to order from the bar menu on Tuesday’s and Violet loved Charlie’s fried chicken.

She hadn’t felt this happy for a very long time, and as she looked into the night sky out of the car window. All she could see, were stars.

(2001) 10 Years Before. Atlanta. Spring.

“Auntie! Yay!” Jason ran into the golden sunroom and jumped into his Auntie’s arms. He hadn’t seen her for a while. He held tightly onto her as she stroked his back.

“Hey baby boy! Goodness! Look how big you are now! You are not even a baby anymore!” Jason hadn’t seen his auntie in over a year, she was a really amazing performer and had been away from Atlanta for some time.

“I missed you! I’m writing a new song but I just can’t finish it! Will you help me?” Jason’s eyes sparkled whenever he spoke about his music.

“I’m sure you will finish it eventually my little star, or big star now! But first, presents!” She turned around to pull out two items from her bag. His face lit up seeing the two gifts.

“I get two! You shouldn’t have!” Jason took the gifts with delight. He unwrapped them with no haste and she saw his eyes sparkle gold as he looked at the pink key ring of the Eiffel Tower, and the small Chanel bag.

“Auntie… you shouldn’t have! This is so pretty! What is this though? Why would I need a girl’s bag? No boys at school have a bag like this one. They all have Ninja Turtles or Pokemon.” Jason looked at her with curiosity in his eyes. She smiled and laughed.

“Why else silly! To put things in! And look, you can attach the key ring to the side here. You can always remember me as your crazy Aunt, who bought you gifts you might not use just because it was pretty! And these are both from France, isn’t that fancy!” She was laughing as she spoke but Jason, even at a young age, understood what she meant.

“Thank you so much. I’ll keep them forever.” Jason put the purse over his shoulder and proceeded to strut around the living room, composing a song about his new bag.

Auntie Addie glanced across the room to see Jason’s mum smile and mouth a ‘thank you.’

Every time Jason thought about his Auntie, all he could see, were stars.

(2011) LA. Summer.

“Hey Charlie, can I grab a vodka?” Violet took her money out of her Chanel purse and paid for the drink. She sat back and watched Matt play on stage. He was playing in a 5 piece combo tonight. She always thought he looked so happy and free when he played with others. He looked completely different to how he looked when he played alone. When Matt played alone he showed his love for the piano and nothing else, but when he was with others, he showed his passion truly for Jazz.

Violets feet were hurting after all of the walking they had done that day, so she slipped off her shoes and wiggled her toes. That felt good.

She was bouncing her knee up and down to the music when Charlie’s wife, Dela, came and took her hand. Violet had a real soft spot for Dela, as she reminded her of her mother. She was an older lady with a slight 50s style that Violet loved. They had gotten to know each other quite well due to their shared love of everything vintage.

“C’mon doll, let’s dance while the boys work hey?” Violet got up, tripping a little on the way, and proceeded to dance till she thought her feet would fall off.

_______________________________________

Matt loved watching Violets attempt at dancing whenever he played in his combo group. She didn’t quite know how to articulate her long limbs when she danced to a faster beat and it made Matt smile.

He was noticing all of these small things about her that he didn’t notice at first. He loved her laugh. He loved this spot on her collar bone just above her contoured on breasts. He loved smudging off her fake beauty mark with his thumb after they had made love. He knew he was in love with her, he just couldn’t find the right moment to tell her.

Matt had finished for the night and was waiting for Violet to say goodbye to Dela. He thought it was cute that they were bonding. Violet didn’t have many friends and it warmed his heart to see her interacting so well with others . He noticed someone staring at him from across the bar. Where have I seen you before? The man approached and smiled when he got closer. Oh god no.

“Matthew Lent? Oh my god! I knew it was you! I would recognise those skills anywhere.” Standing in front of Matt was Raja. He was someone Matt just considered an acquaintance, they did however, have history. Raja was an amazing Jazz singer, and Matt envied that he was becoming more popular.

“Hey Raja, how have you been?” Matt wasn’t at all interested but he didn’t want to seem rude. He kept an eye on Violet from across the room.

“I’m great! I’m putting a combo group together and our keys just let us down. Spot is open, if you are interested? It’s a paying gig too?” Paying gig? Jesus. I do need the money.

“Really? Wow! I’ll have think about it. I think I have your number, so ill text and let you know?” Matt smiled at Raja. They had never got on, but if it meant getting his foot in the door, he was willing.

“Sure man, see you around. Your girl is smoking by the way.” Raja winked as he left.

Matt’s phone vibrating in his pocket forced him to move his gaze away from staring at where Raja had just left. He didn’t even check caller ID, nor did he realise how late it was for someone to be calling him.

“Sup?” He answered.

“Matthew, long time no speak son. How are you?” Matt’s blood ran cold, as he heard the all too familiar sound of the man he hated most on earth, at the other end of the line.

“Father, hello.” Matt didn’t quite know how to respond. His father always made him feel so nervous. Matt saw that Violet was engrossed in a deep conversation with Dela so he decided to take the call outside. The cold air slapped his face. When did LA become so cold in the summer?

“I just wanted to call to say that I spoke to Mr and Mrs Act recently. So, you dumped one of Hollywood’s most popular actress’. Why?” Well, he didn’t hang around.

“Because I don’t love her dad. I have met someone else. I’m a grown man, I didn’t think I really needed to justify anything to you anymore.” Matt took out a cigarette and lit it. He was starting to shake. He wasn’t sure if it was nerves, terror, or the cold.

“Who is it then? This woman that is better than THE Courtney Act!” Matt’s father sounded irritated on the phone and it was only now that he noticed that he was slurring his words. Nothing had changed.

“Her name is Violet, and she is an up and coming burlesque and cabaret performer, and I love her. To be honest dad, I do not give a fuck what you think. Now, please only call if it is an emergency.” Matt went to hang up the phone when he heard his dad faintly.

“Violet, oh that’s a wonderful name. At least she doesn’t have a name like Alex, James, Jake, you know…” Matt stopped dead.

“Actually, she has a name like Jason but don’t worry about it. Goodbye.” Matt hung up his phone and stared at it for the longest time. A faint smile spread across his face. He heard Violets heels clicking to come and greet him and he felt the warmth return to his heart. He looked up into the sky and all he could see, were stars.

(2001) 10 Years Before. New York. Spring.

“Hey mum, it’s Matty.” Matt sat down at her grave and rested the bouquet of Violets on top of her headstone gently. “You know mum, I still don’t understand why these are your favourite. They smell weird.” He looked down at the ground, sat crossed legged and started picking at the grass.

“So, I’m going to tell you a secret, but I think you already know. I think you knew all along and that’s why you tried to protect me from all of the mean people in the world.” Matt sighed and took a deep breath.

“I think I might be gay. Or at least, I don’t think I’m straight. But I can’t tell dad. Why is this mum? I don’t understand why he’s so against it. He calls Detox a ‘dirty faggot’ all of the time and it really hurts my feelings. I do not think I love Detox. But… I don’t know. Being a teenager is so confusing without you.”

Matt felt tears on his cheeks. He wiped them away with the back of his sleeve

“Why am I not like the others kids in my class? Even Detox isn’t in my year at school so I don’t really have any friends. The only time I don’t feel alone is when I play piano, as I feel like you are by my side.” He laid his palm flatly on the dirt. He could feel her beneath him.

“I love you mum, and I hope one day when I’m older that I will be an amazing parent, just like you were. Thank you for loving me.”

Matt stood up, kissed her headstone and put his hands into the front pocket of his hoody. And as he left the graveyard; he looked up into the sky, and all he could see, were stars.

(2011) LA. Summer.

“Hey, look. I made you something.” Matt looked up from his music book, glasses on and blunt in mouth; from where he was sitting on the couch to see Violet, wearing a sexy black lingerie set with one of his white shirts hung loosely over the top.

Fuck.

The blunt hung from his lips as he stared at her.

Am I high enough to be imagining this?

“You are making me horny. That’s what” he replied. In a low voice. Violet giggled and moved to sit near Matt. She then leaned over to peck him on his cheek, moving his song book to the side. She then held up her drawing proudly for inspection.

Matt studied it with care. “Why does it say ‘Matt’s’?” Matt was looking at what looked like a logo. ‘Matt’s’ was written in a carefully selected script style of lettering with a quaver note as the apostrophe.

Clever. Why didn’t I think of that?

“Because, nobody is going to come to a club called ‘Blunts and Burgers’, especially if you sell fried chicken like I want you too.” She pecked him on his cheek and climbed into his lap. He held her close.

“But I like blunts, and I like burgers.” Matt whined. Violet laughed at his bratty nature. She took the blunt from his mouth and took a couple of drags. She was partial to a smoke every now and then, especially if Matt was involved. He kissed her temple and whispered a thank you into her ear. She meowed in delight.

“This illusion is blowing my mind, but I just have to ask, where in the hell is your dick? It’s so confusing.” He tried to move her panties to the side to have a look and Violet swatted his hand away.

“Look but no touch, this is for you baby.” Violet inhaled another drag of the blunt before stubbing it out in the ashtray nearby. She blew the smoke in Matts face and began to trial open mouthed kisses down his neck, nibbling as she went. Some of Violets make-up was coming off on him but she didn’t mind. She bunched his shirt in her hands as she moved back up and kissed him passionately on the mouth. She continued to kiss him while she undid each button on his shirt. One at a time, very slowly. Stopping only to look at Matt’s blissful face.

She heard soft moans from Matt as she moved down his body. Her knee’s touched the carpet a little roughly, but she liked the feeling. His head was thrown back and his lips were parted slightly.

God, you are perfect.

Violet was now kissing around his belly button, playing with his nipples at the same time. She moved her hands down his chest, grazing her nails back over his nipple as she went.

I’m going to make you feel amazing baby.

She kissed each pelvic bone, leaving red lipstick behind, before starting to palm his erection through his jogging bottoms. “God, Yes!” Matt hissed.

Violet took that as a signal and pulled his bottoms down, freeing Matt’s erection from being confined. She took it in his hands and started to rub the tip with her thumb. She massaged his balls with one of her hands while holding herself up with the other. Moving on, she kissed the top and then took it into her mouth at once. Matt inhaled sharply at the sensation. She began to move up and down, slow and steady. Violet stopped and looked back at Matt. She bit her lip as she did. His brows were crossed in concentration. She was aroused herself, and as she was tucked, it was starting to become uncomfortable. Violet however, liked the sensation and it only made her want Matt more.

She took his length into her mouth and started again, to suck on it. She moved her lips all the way down his shaft until her nose was deep in his pubic hair. She then went just as slow as she moved backwards. Up and down, over and over.

While bobbing her head, she massaged Matt’s balls between her palm. Matt groaned and grabbed her by her hair.

Good job I pinned this shit in good.

Violet increased her pace a little and she could feel Matt’s balls getting tighter in her hands. She pulled back all of a sudden and Matt whimpered at the loss of contact.

Very sexily, and looking at Matt dead in his bedroom eyes; She put her index finger fake nail into her mouth and pulled it off, spitting it across the room. She then put her finger into her mouth, sucking her finger as though it was Matt’s cock. Up and down, looking directly into Matt’s eyes; while she pumped his dick with her other hand.

“’Soon.” Matt rasped and Violet lowered her head back to sucking Matt’s cock. At the last moment, she inserted her finger into Matt’s hole, tapping at his prostate to send him over the edge.

Matt came, moaning a loud “Fucking hell Vi!” And all he could see were stars.