#not sure if my Eloise is too ooc

[lovelyo]

Season 3 part 2 will be Ass. Let me Tell You Why.

Cause in the end, Penelope, Lady Whistledown, the one who has left devastation in people’s lives will get all what she wants. The man that she wants, the attention that she wants, the family she always wanted to be(so envious of them she talked shit about them ), will get her best friend back, might have the heir for that dumbass Featherington plot line, might get the Queen’s pardon and above all else, will most likely not give up LW cause they made LW such an integral part of the show.(so in that case, she’ll be even more filthy rich)

And if we go by leaked spoilers, it is said that Colin will be mad at Penelope for like 1 episode until Kanthony talks some “sense” into him. So that just tells me Kanthony will be OOC because there’s no damn way Anthony would let that beast comment about his wife slide.

There are no stakes when it comes to this season cause we all know how it’s finna go down. If Penelope gets any type of consequences, then her very undeserved HEA is doomed so everything is going to have to go her way for the already idiotic plot to make some form of sense. It’s like the love triangle in part 1, what the hell was the point of Lord Debling when everyone and their ancestors knew Colin and Penelope were end game? So we can see Colin’s cringe angst? If we already know the answer to the love triangle, there’s no point. The “find you a husband” plot line was stupid as shit anyway, but it’s whatever now.

Ugh, then we have to sit through more awkward love scenes between asshat 1 and 2

Eloise threatening Penelope with her LW identity is going to amount to nothing cause we know Penelope isn’t gonna receive any comeuppance. Matter of fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they made Eloise apologize to Penelope for…🤷🏾‍♂️🤷(let’s apologize to the toxic friend for not dealing with their toxicity)

For Penelope to have a happy ending, she has to get away scot free and that’s what boils my blood. I hate in media and literature when a character goes around, creates chaos and receives nothing for it or just a slap on a wrist. I’ve noticed an increase in it lately too. Also, I’m tired of writers not severing their bias from their writing. I’ve been encountering many series lately where the writer(s) have favoritism towards a specific character and gives them the easy route, bends the world for them and pull punches just because they like them so much. It’s really aggravating cause you see everyone else getting put through the wringer and then you see the favored character walking through Candyland. It hurts the story, the character, and frankly makes you hate the character.

Everyone around Penelope is gonna act brain dead in order for Penelope to get what she wants and I’m not here for it. Even the general audience ain’t for it. The only people cheering this madness are the asylum patients called Polin fans with delusions that Penelope deserves the world.

I’m not even looking forward to Francesca and John’s story cause of the Poolin fecal matter I’ll have to swim through to get there. At this point, I’m might just watch spoilers of part 2 cause it’s not worth it.

P.S. Watch Cressida get the short end of the stick cause she’s the “bully” of the show and Penelope is the “victim”. Watch them break Creloise because of the “I don’t want you hanging around Eloise” subplot which will ultimately fuel Eloise and Penelope becoming friends again. Also, Penelope and Cressida competed for Lord Debling just for Penelope to go “sike” and marry Colin so she wasted Debling’s time and made Cressida feel like shit because she wasn’t chosen. P.S.S- Polins are huge ass hypocrites cause they ragged on Eloise being privileged and having “everything” but are silent about Penelope being privileged. By the end of this season, Penelope will basically have everything, even more so than Eloise, but sure, Penelope is definitely not privileged 😑. Penelope is privileged inside the world and outside by production, why are we denying this?

[bisexualfemalemess]

BRIDGERTON SEASON 3 PART TWO SPOILERS

Episode 7: I’m only 20 seconds in and i already can not handle the drama 😭😭😭 He followed her because he was worried because the last time she left she was having a panic attack and fainted and now he finds out she’s his worst enemy :(( somebody take that pen away from shonda, there is no need for this much angst :(((

I’m actually gonna scream like i fully can’t handle this, it’s the equivalent to hearing your parents fighting when you’re little and covering your ears :(

As angsty as this scene is i have to commend Luke Netwon’s acting because that tear rolling down his face, colin’s just a sensitive baby boy and it shows. Also kudos to Nicola coughlan’s acting because i can just feel how distraught penelope is over the whole situation.

Not baby boy saying he will never forgive her and then just sulking in bed :( I‘m not sure i‘ll survive this episode.

The fake whistledown is so ooc i‘m glad Penelope shut that shit down fast.

PENELOISE!!!!! It is so important to me that Eloise said she feels stuck between the two of them because that still shows she still genuinely loved penelope and doesn’t just hold some lingering affection from how close they used to be. We’re so back.

THE REASSURANCE AND HEART TO HEART, PENELOPE HOLDING HER HAND. GUYS WE SURVIVED THE GREAT WAR IMMA JUMP OUT A WINDOW, POLIN NEXT!

Damn colin! What happened to hello? How are you? He’s just over her demanding answers from eloise, lmaoooo. Eloise, babe, i love you but were you not the one suggesting that pen just keeps her husband in the dark and drops the lw persona? Don’t back track now. Not them having a bitch-off about who was hurt the most by penelope like guys maybe you should focus your energy on trying to understand her instead of going at each other’s throats. But also Eloise defending pen to colin, they’re truly so back. SHE SAID SHE WANTS TO FORGIVE HER SHE LOVES HER SO BAD MY BESTIES ARE ACTUALLY COMING BACK 😭😭😭😭😭 i actually feel so bad for el, colin and penelope. Like they’re all valid with their feelings and i need them to officially make-up so bad.

That entrapment comment? Like i get that he’s lashing out because he’s upset after finding out that his best friend and love of his life is also his worst enemy but let’s not forget that he was the one chasing the carriage, begging on his knees for a chance, finger-banged her into near-orgasm, and made the first move in the mirror scene because the poor girl was a virgin who didn’t know shit about sex. ARGUMENT NULL AND VOID BABY BOY.

Poor pen :(((((( She loves him y’all. WHAT DO YOU MEAN “let us get through this wedding then we will decide what this marriage will be.”??? Like i hope he comes to terms with whistledown because it’s such an essential part of penelope, they can’t just sweep it under the rug. I love how the mom’s are so concerned about them but they don’t stop to think about maybe, i don’t know, asking them what’s going on? Like they won’t get an answer but at least they would’ve tried. Right now they’re either too wrapped up in the planning or lady danbury’s brother to even try and figure out what’s going on, like, of course you’re not gonna know the reason then. Colin stress-drinking being canon is like the worst thing that could ever happen to me. It’s literally the night before their wedding and shit’s not resolved yet, i’m gonna scream into a pillow.

Aww i hate that penelope’s so understanding about colin’s anger but like i also love that about her because she will admit her mistakes and admit that she’s wrong and that’s so hard to find in a character sometimes. I also love her friendship with Genevieve like she’s the only one that truly understands her.

Lmaoo not penelope stepping onto that platform thingy or step or whatever it was to be taller like baby you’re still just three apples tall. DAMN, Penelope really said, “i am not standing for this slander anymore” and threw his words back at him. Does this fight count as talking things out? Personally i would say yes but 🤷‍♀️

“you should’ve told me to my face.” Like??? Did she not…try? Did she not utter the words marina’s in love with another and you just brushed her off??? Like sir don’t throw that at her when you damn well know she tried to do everything she could’ve before resorting to her gossip column.

The acting is so insanely good oh my god like i get both of them here but i’m a little bit biased and slightly more on pen’s side, whistledown is a good thing, it protects the bridgertons and helps them.(sometimes without them even realizing it.)

I love how penelope just has to drop the l-word and colin pushes her up against a wall, making out with her in the middle of a street. Like are We sure LW is gonna be a problem, colin? At least he made sure she got into the carriage this time.

Not Violet calling in the big guns with Kanthony like they’re so sickeningly in love with each other what marital advice can they give colin??? Kate’s so pretty and her bump is so cute. “You think our marriage is perfect?” “Is it not?” Anthony’s not helping at all lmaooo. Poor woman is truly working overtime trying to get everyone out of their slump while pregnant first el, then gregory, now colin. Just let her rest??? And anthony’s little comments lmaoo he was not having any of it.

Kanthony reminiscing about their wedding??? And you expect me to say they’re not sickening??? SHUT UP NOT YELLOW BEING PLAYED FOR POLINS WEDDING IM ACTUALLY GONNA JUMP OF A BRIDGE THIS IS SO PERFECT. Can we take a moment to appreciate penelope’s wedding gown??? She looks so fucking ethereal oh my god. Like one thing about bridgerton, the women always look ethereal.

I know we haven’t resolved the LW issue yet but colin looks so genuinely in love and happy during the wedding scene. It’s sad to know that will probably not last :( Eloise And prudence both crying of happiness, so true. Aww penelope’s sister being nice to her, she’s so not used to it.

PEN AND ELOISE EYE CONTACT EYE CONTACT EYE CONTACT LIKE YOU GIRLS ARE ALREADY SO BACK.

Not Benedict fucking off from his own brother’s wedding for what??? The threesome or what??

Awww Anthony wants a birth in india 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 he’s such a looser for her. I love kanthony so much 🥺🥺🥺

Portia is actually so??? i don’t know, nurturing??? Like she truly shows she cares for pen.

Also POLIN DANCING TO YOU BELONG WITH ME I REPEAT POLIN DANCING TO YOU BELONG WITH ME. They’re the cutest oh my god. The way the entire room just disappeared and colin was this 🤏 close to throwing all sense out the window and folding, like he would’ve full on made out with her if the queen hadn’t entered. LMAOO NOT PENELOPE LEAVING WHEN THE QUEEN SAID BRIDGERTONS ONLY AND COLIN LITERALLY HAD TO PULL HER BACK???

I’m 100% certain penelope would’ve full on confessed she was whistledown if Francesca hadn’t stepped up with her kilmartin thing. She’s so cute. The queen clocked their tea and anthony seriously was like no you’re wrong.

THAT FUCK ASS WIG I HATE THAT FUCK ASS WIG FOR THE RESHOOTS, I THOUGHT I’D NEVER HAVE TO SEE IT AGAIN 🙄🙄🙄 On another note i love that pen is delivering with her speech here, like yes queen pop off my little feminist. The queen just had to ruin the wedding, did she?

AWW WAR IS SO TRULY OVER WE GOT A SCENE OF ELOISE COMFORTING AND HUGGING PENELOPE AS SHES CRYING INTO HER SHOULDER! PENELOISE BACK SO TRUE SO REAL

WOAH HAPPY PRIDE MONTH TO BENEDICT BRIDGERTON I GUESS. A WIN FOR THE GAYS, BI’S, WHATEVER YOU IDENTIFY AS. ELOISE NEXT!

[visxionaries]

Conversation between King Cedric Tyrell of the Reach, and Lord Omer Florent, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard: The Ghosts that Remain. / @omerflorent

setting: the king of the reach is seen walking through the corridors towards the chambers of the lord commander. there he waits for the guards to enter, announcing his presence before walking in. the atmosphere seems as though something is rushed and tense - he clutches something leather in his hands.

and when the king finally cried, it were as though he would not stop. cedric tyrell's cries were quiet, as though he were suffocating - his shoulders heaved as though his soul tried to leave his body. as though his chest would burst, and the walls of highgarden itself would collapse, and the kingdom with it.

ooc: cedric finally asks one of his florent cousins to translate the brightwater tongue found within his mother’s diary. the consequences reveal what he always feared.

cedric: “leave us.” and his tone is on edge, as though he needed to do this now. lest he find himself wishing to never know the truth. “i need you to read something for me.”

omer: and the lord commander looked up as the king came in to further clear the room. rising from his seat he placed his hand on his king's shoulder and led him to the small solar where lucrezia wasn't in the bath. “what is it?” and he takes the book, opening it up, fingers moving over the fine writing. the familiar language. “what is this, cedric?”

cedric: and in his movement and actions, he barely considers the reasons why omer would have directed him to the solar. his feet seemed to move, but cedric recognised nothing about his surroundings, only fixing a look on omer's striking blue hues. they haunted him. as though they were not etched upon his face too. was he cursed by the gods to have his mothers eyes, as a reminder of his failure of her? “my mother’s. she drafted a letter before sending it, to her cunt brother. your cunt father. translate this.” and he pointed directly at words that were in the brightwater tongue.

(my lord brother of brightwater, i implore you to reconsider your rejection of wardship for your nephew. cedric is sharp in his wit and sharper still with his tongue, and has been raised as a son of brightwater in his own way. i wish for him to be safe within this world, especially now more than ever. there is none other i would trust with looking over my son but you, my gracious lord. the concern and insult for oldtown’s ambitions continuing beyond this war are shared; in this, i assure you, highgarden and brightwater remain the most steadfast of allies. no son of brightwater would be sent to ward with oldtown; as you have always taught me. concerns are, very high. a constant priority. a constant thought. tá amanna is cosúil m'fhear céile as a meabhair. tá amanna ann is dóigh liom go ndéanfaidh sé dochar dom. i wish for my son to see a piece of what it means to have florent blood, my lord - and if this were possible, you would have my utmost and undeniable gratitude. perhaps my lord can consider the strengths of having a tyrell ward; it will give your own noble and virtuous son another to depend on. má tharlaíonn aon rud dom, le do thoil a ghlacadh mo mhac. please tell my nephew his aunt thinks of him. i have tried to send him some correspondence, however believe to have yet gotten a response; perhaps it is not getting through for i do not know where to reach him. guím ort, a thiarna. deartháir mór. yours, lady eloise of highgaren. do dheirfiúr beag.)

omer: and he reads it, he reads it several times. he doesn't look up at his king as he makes sure he is reading what's before him. he's never seen this letter among what he searched from his father's possessions. “sometimes...my husband seems mad. there are times i think he will hurt me. i pray to you, my lord. big brother. your little sister.” and he reads it again to himself, he knew cedric didn't know the old tongue... even the simple parts...must have looked like gibberish.

cedric: and for a moment, there is no reaction at all. he watches the fox of brightwater reread the words again, and then again, almost as though he needed to be sure of what he was reading. and for a moment, cedric himself felt as though he were preparing to hear an abomination. he felt as though he needed to clutch the soil before feeling the world shake and end beneath him. “...she wanted the families to be closer.” and he goes silent again. he remembers the way eloise tyrell would speak of brightwater, speak of the pipes and the flutes, even would show him a style of dance in which his young mind thought her feet would break for the way they danced against the wood beneath the soles of her feet. “take my son.” and there was a slight laugh that came from his lips, but it was not his usual chuckle. it sounded as though he were laughing at the gods. at his life.

omer: and he says nothing, it's not appropriate. he stands there looking at the other. watching his cousin. they son of the pearl they called him. upon his birth they played the horns and pipes for him. omer was 3, his mother just died and his father wouldn't parade but he remembered the way the folk cheered for him.  omer; and his chuckle causes a crack across the surface of his demeanor, his heart. his brother stands there, his king, and there's nothing he can do to make him feel better. words were wind and did little to mend the broken.

cedric: “she said she didn't think our mother would have done this to herself. in the maze. before you found us.” and slowly, then suddenly, it were as though he had been bounced into action. his pace seemed to have him dart, like a fox, from the side of omer and suddenly he were beside the crackling fireplace in one of the small solars in the lord commander's chambers. “before he ordered an arrow to her neck.” and he looked directly at omer, his hand moving to each of the diary pages, his rips violent. page by page, the sound of it loud, for cedric did not raise his own voice. “on her wedding day. our sister, on her wedding day.” and the pages were being crumpled into a fist, before being thrown into the fire. he did not wait for them to crumple before throwing more, a sudden burst of movement coming in him throwing the entire leather bound into the fireplace. it needed feeding. and the rage in which he threw it with almost caused embers to end up on the rug. “helena was right.”

omer: and the sudden movements of the other don't startle him as he watches, gazes over him. he started moving toward him as he ripped at the pages and asked the question. as he repeated the words of helena, the sweet girl stolen from them. ;and while it sounds the other knows his sister was right, omer didn't need to tell cedric she was right because they read the words. the lord commander spoke them out loud. and when he was in front of the other, he could only think about those nights he spent alone after the north and the nights he wished for something more than what he had. and he couldn't let his little cousin. his little brother live a life with nothing. and so he pulled the man into his arms, holding him close. tight so the other couldn't escape from the hug.

cedric: and there was no reaction as the lord commander moved closer to him, and for a moment he began to feel as though the walls of this cursed solar were caving in on them. and it were as though every instinct within him seemed to scream at the seven heavens and hells alike at the mere touch of omer florent, his reaction being to try and push him off. “goldengrove...i was in GOLDENGROVE, with....”  and his voice suddenly booms, and there is no sadness in it. only loss. he was in goldengrove with his dead best friend upon the news that both lord and lady tyrell had seemingly died, only none had told him of how twisted it was until he was home to view the shrouds themselves. and he ignored it, for he knew how poisoned ivy seemed to spread within his family home. “poisoned her...his wife.”  and the entire time he is shouting, he cares not for who overhears him, servants or whoever else were in these chambers. and how much better was he? had he too not killed the woman he had taken as wife?  and his tone changed from angry, to a sense of desperation; desperation in trying to figure out what it was he was doing here. what was he supposed to do with this information?

cedric: and despite asking him to get off him, he clung to the lord commander; he clung to the cousin who should have been in his life so much sooner. his mother wanted them together.  and when the king finally cried, it were as though he would not stop. cedric tyrell's cries were quiet, as though he were suffocating - his shoulders heaved as though his soul tried to leave his body. as though his chest would burst, and the walls of highgarden itself would collapse, and the kingdom with it. and he stayed that way, silently begging for forgiveness. not from any of the gods people fell on their knees for. he prayed the pearl of brightwater would have forgiven him in her last moments. forgiven him now, wherever she was.

[diamo-chan]

THE REASON I’D CHOOSE IVAN IF I WERE IN ELOISE’S SHOES

Ivan had been my second favorite from the start, and, no, not even his route was able to spoil that, for me. But since Ethan is my fave my taste is questionable anyway.  (☉ε　⊙ﾉ)ﾉ

The snippet includes spoilers for his route! So be warned. (English is not my native language + not beta-read – simply because I’m not used to that process)

Word count: 1,4k

The screams made her jump up from her seat on the garden bench and fall into a frenzy in a split second. The fear she felt was her own, not his. No, he was calm, albeit not quiet. This serenity only passed when Eloise came running into his room and stepped between Aaron and Ivan’s… she didn’t know what to call it, strict parenting? Authoritative weaning? – To say Ivan was surprised would be a grave understatement. He was shaken to the very bone  with no room for neither breathing nor moving; suddenly his mind was clear, and his emotions sober.

The dispute that followed was the first time he hears Eloise scream like that, fists balled in fear, but still refusing to let Aaron anywhere close to Ivan. Maybe that was still a reflex from last week. Ivan was left in the role of a spectator. Sure, his plan had been stupid, sure it brought everyone in the manor into danger, but Eloise was not responsible for his bad decision making, his friend had no right to be angry with her. But before he could interfere, his sire let out a deep sigh.

Eventually Aaron gave in before it would escalate, seeing as how Eloise was deaf to any and all of his arguments with mental fingers in her ears. He threw one last look over his shoulder into the room of the young vampire before leaving the two of them to figure out what should become of bond now.

After a moment of silence the chalice slid down the door with a laugh and just sat there on the floor with her legs spread away from her, staring at her dumbfounded vampire in relieve.

“You are either suicidal or mad.” Ivan whispered in awe. Those were the first words he had spoken to her since the incident with his ex. Not that he wasn’t grateful for her help. He was. Hell, without her he would be dead by now. He loved her, very much so, even without her risking her neck for him… but last week just had been a lot to take. Still, he knew her well enough by now, to be aware that she would not allow him to lock himself off of her again. A swift jump and Eloise was back on her feet, and let her drained body rest next to him at the edge of Ivan’s bed.

“What makes you think that I am not both?” The playfulness in her eyes betrayed nothing of the exhaustion, that the conflict with Aaron left her in.

He layed back on the bedcover with an elegant flop. During the hunt he had a lot of time to think. It always gave him the chance to clear his head of all troubles, but there was something that has been incomprehensible to him from the very first day. Maybe now, that they had established something more stable, now, that they both had made peace with their respective deaths, this might be the right moment to ask.

Turning onto his stomach he searched for her eyes. When she noticed his interest, she looked at him in expectation, the golden fire of his irises met her icy grey ones, and he almost backed out of it, if it wasn’t for the reassuring smile on her lips. Ivans voice was hoarse, barely loud enough to reach her, if it wasn’t for her increased sense of hearing.

“I am grateful to have you. But whenever I think back I can’t help but wonder” He took a deep breath. “Why did you choose me in the first place?”

Eloise looked genuinely confused. But after a short moment she just shrugged. “Because I wanted to give you a chance”

“To do what exactly?” he insisted.

Her exhale was a soft laugh when she let herself sink back on the covers so she was face to face with him. Ivan was forced to shift his weight to the side when she gently took the hand that was closer to her and started caressing it in a calming manner. She knew that that was a tough topic for the blond vampire, that whatever she would say, whichever answer she had for him, she would be left walking on eggshells.

“On that first night,” It was as if the scene was replaying in her head, like she was once again seeing his panicking expression through the shards of the glass that were illuminated by the moonlight.  “You wanted to catch me and pull me back up again. You were wide awake, when I saw your face during the fall.” Instantly she was captivated by those orange eyes that shone like merciless flames. But the boy whom these expressive orbs belonged to, his heart used to be broken, fearful.  “I didn’t know what would come of this, but I didn’t want you to blame yourself, or try to make it up to everyone.” Once again Ivan looked at her as if she was crazy. Crazy to safe the person who brought her into that situation in the first place. But before the pain had a chance to settle on his soul again, a foxy grin appeared on Eloise’s face as she added: “And I found you hot, but that’s just convenient side effect”

“You really are mad.” Grabbing her hand Ivan pressed a kiss to her palm.

With a giggle Eloise sat back up. With a gentle tug on the arm her boy leaned on, she turned him on his back, so he was resting in a more relaxed position, before climbing up, to rest in top if his thighs. She shook her head, jokingly. “No, Ethan is mad. I am just one lucky girl who hit her head too hard.”

She loved this man, what happened in the past could not change anything about that. And now that they finally had the peace to enjoy the bond they shared, she could not have her nearly-death dragging it down. Rather, she had to prove to Ivan that he was just as alive as her. Maybe this was crazy if one was not part of this. But she could not care less.

She grabbed the cape that Ivan took off after returning from the hunt and left crumbled next to his pillow and threw it over her shoulders like a blanket. Fluttering her lashes under the shaddow of the hood, she cleared her throat before speaking in a faked deep voice, that must be a horribly failed attempt to intimidate Ivan’s.

“Did it hurt when you fell from the window?”, seductively, but in a ridiculing kind of way, she wiggled her brows with a lopsided grin on those sinful lips that Ivan craved even more than her blood. “Something, something, me being an angel.”

Ivan bursted out laughing, at her way of changing the mood in her favor, at the happiness that bloomed in his chest whenever he saw her.

“That was terrible.” he managed between chuckles. As his whole body shook from the contractions of his breathing, she let off a bit to give him room, all-the-while keeping her gaze sultry. Her hands rested on his chest until he had calmed down a bit and was responsive again.

“Why don’t we work on improving that then.” Her suggestion might have been innocent, of it wasn’t for the heated look in her grey eyes.

One pull and he had caught her off balance, pulled his lover closer on top of him, flush against his torso. No more words were needed. Ivan’s body, his hands, pressed against her with an urgency that held promises he’d be eagerly fulfilling when it came to her.

* * *

Downstairs, Ethan sat on the couch with his face burried in his hands, breathing deeply and soundly. With and energetic motion he combed his fingers through his hair and got up.

“I will ask Vlad if I can move down into the cellar.” Aaron, who was throwing darts at the board on the opposite end of the room, raised a questioning eyebrow, so Ethan could see that he was indeed listening and  continue with his explanation. “They are constantly on each other. I don’t know how long I can take, having the room under his”

The redhead snorted.

“I didn’t expect you to act even more prude than Vlad… he sleeps on the other side of that wall, after all.” He said with a mocking grin on his face. Even after all the time Ethan had spent with Beliath, this was still bothering him? But there was one thought that might reassure the medic, or rather hit him even harder than the present. As soon as Aaron voiced it, a silken pillow came flying at his face, but he simply caught it with a laugh and an bemusedly fond gaze at Ethan’s moping form.

“You will get used to it over the next months… years…decades.”

[sunflowerheartsandstarryskies]

The Red Viper and the Honeybee - Oberyn Martell x Bridgerton AU

Bridgerton AU!Oberyn Martell x Fem!Bridgerton!reader

Author’s Note: I fell down the rabbit hole of Oberyn content and I watched Bridgerton on Netflix, it is terrible from a historical standpoint but from a story standpoint it is fantastic. So that is why I am labelling this as Bridgerton as its own au instead of a historical au and also I am putting you (reader insert) as the diamond of the season or Daphne Bridgerton, but trying to be as inclusive as I can be with your skin, hair, and body type (by not putting my bias involved). Also I will be basing a lot of etiquette and phrasing from the regency and romantic era. I hope that clears things up for you.

TL:DR: Bridgerton horrible for historical fiction but fantastic for story inspiration. Bridgerton is basically the Regency Era!Lite with a dash of modernism in it. Also you are 21-23 years old and Oberyn is mid 20s-30s years old in this fic.

Warnings: Men being pretentious, some misogyny happening, society having expectations for  women, historical misogyny in general (please take care of yourselves before and after reading this if these sort of things can hurt you, I love you all), Game of Throne characters being OOC (I mean like all of them, sorry)

Taglist: @ ilikechocolatemilkh , @janelongxox Thank you for being interested in this mess enough to be tagged in this

Word Count: almost 10k (this got over me, yikes)

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For a man to capture my whole heart and attention, they must treat me as their equal and partner in life, for if they don’t then I would be a fool for yearning for them in the first place. My mother was the one to instill these ideals in me since I was young and wants me to find a partner that will be my best friend in all that I am and the same for him.

I debuted in the social market of Westeros rather late in the standards of high society but my father recently passed away so it was overlooked in that sense as my family was given a grieving period to be allowed to be secluded from the world to grieve properly. My father and mother are my favorite people in the world who I adore as well as my younger sisters and older brothers. I am the eldest daughter whom I’ve been giving responsibility to secure finances with suitors, but my family (may the gods bless them so) will forever love me even as a spinster if I never find one in my lifetime.

My homeland is Honeyholt and my mother is the Duchess of Honeyholt, my family is in a unique standing with the high society of Westeros so our family may seem odd and quirky but society is keen to overlook that factor because of our business. Honeyholt prides itself on being fair and equal to all members of their county and business, which lends itself to the citizens and workers of Honeyholt giving us high praise for our practices. 

Our land and business is best known for our signature honey wine, brandy, and teas specifically floral teas are our best ones. The Bridgerton name is branded with pride on each bottle and jar of our products. 

My older brother, Anthony, is being groomed to take the title of Marquis of Honeyholt. He is very protective over me whenever we go out to social dances, so even if I wanted to find a suitor he yanks me away from them to dance with him or my other brothers Colin and Benedict. It is exhausting between the three of them, Benedict is just as protective as Anthony, but less overbearing, and Colin is much like a guard dog, silent but ready to bite the hands off any man who comes near me. My two allies against them are my younger sisters Eloise and Hyacinth, when I want to dance with a young man they both cause mischief on my brothers before they intervene. 

My family got invited to a ball out in the Westerlands near the House of Lannister, and that meant great news to my mother who was excited to show me off in the Westeros season of dancing. Which hopefully by the good graces of the gods that I will be allowed to find a potential suitor. This ball would be a formal social event to all that attend, and my good friend and mentor Lord Tyrion Lannister promised me to make an appearance there.

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

We all got dressed in beautiful formal wear, with our signature bee insignia placed somewhere on our persons. My brothers have it embroidered on their collars, while my sisters and I have bee hair pins in our hair styles. The bees do a lot of hardwork in our county and business, so we wear it proudly on our coat of arms and whenever we go out to social events. It is a sign of a united front to us, and that family is of the utmost importance to all of us.

We are all in the carriage riding to the Lannister mansion’s assembly room that was used for such occasions. 

“I hope you are not looking forward to the company of Jaime Lannister, this evening? You know how much I oppose his character,” Colin starts.

“I agree with Colin on this one, you know of the gossip that is surrounding him dear sister,” Benedict states.

“Yes dear brothers, if there is one thing in this family that you have taught me to be is to be wary of all of the Lannisters. Except for my dear friend Lord Tyrion I hope,” I say. 

“Not to mention the salacious scandal that the Kingslayer has with his oh so dear sister, Lady Ceresei,” Eloise mocks. Me and Hyacinth snort behind our hands in response. 

“That is exactly the reason why we don’t want you to hang out too much around ‘The Kingslayer’’ Anthony spits out the last part.

“Then why are we even going to visit the Lannisters then if all we are going to be doing is to bicker around them?” I inquire.

“Because there are some rather interesting bachelors that have promised their arrivals in Westeros that I am certain will be a great match for you,” my mother states reaching over to squeeze my hands in assurance.

“I hope you’re right mother,” I say, “But let’s hope my brothers won’t do too much meddling then.” 

“Oh I’ll make sure they don’t darling,” mother soothes me leaving my brothers with gaping mouths trying to argue back but was cut short with our arrival at Lannisters’ ballroom.

We all made our ways out of the carriage with my mother and I being escorted by my brothers. As we entered the ballroom my ears were immediately greeted with beautiful orchestral music played by the band that the Lannisters hired were quite skillful. Benedict immediately led me into the first dance of the night so I was too occupied to catch a glance at all the handsome men in attendance. 

“Thank you for the dance, dear brother” I remarked with a curtsy. 

Benedict returns the curtsy with a bow as he says, “my pleasure”

Colin, Eloise, and Hyacinth comes over to us with Hyacinth saying, “Do you see who is in attendance (Y/N)?” 

“No, who?” I ask as I immediately glance around the room. As soon as I said it my brothers soon said, “On guard,” and immediately tried to disperse themselves.

“Too late, I already caught your eye,” a woman said. I turn to fully look and it’s the Lady of the House, Duchess Joanna of Westerlands.

I curtsied at her attention as did the rest of my siblings as we say, “Lady Joanna”

“Ah Lady (Y/N) Bridgerton I was hoping that you would come to visit me again. You know my dear son Tyrion remarks about how intelligent you are,” Duchess Joanna states.

“Your Grace flatters me, I merely have a good teacher is all,” you say.

“I wish you were as flattering to me to my face, my lovely student,” I hear a familiar voice say to me. Tyrion soon appears in my vision right next to his mother. 

“Is there a reason why I haven’t seen you on the dance floor, for I have heard and seen you are the brightest star this season,” Lady Joanna states.

Benedict stands a bit straighter as he hears her say that and states, “All in good time, Lady Joanna. One mustn't rush these matters.”

She raises her eyebrows at him then takes her leave away from them, as I take my leave to walk with my friend Lord Tyrion. 

“Oh dear me, (Y/N) you always seem to have your hands full with your guard dogs don’t you?” Tyrion teases me. 

I huffed as I reached for a glass of champagne, “Don’t I know it. I know my family says they’ll love me forever if I never get married but what of the rest of the world? I hardly wouldn’t want my family to be shunned simply because I am not desirable.”

“Now who would say that my dear, hmm? You are quite desirable simply on your looks alone, but coupled with that of your smart wits and sharp intelligence, you stand on equal footing with any man who even dares to look at you,” Tyrion expressed. 

“Oh if only that were true, but no man in today’s society would hardly want or look for a woman who can stand to attest to what he or his business has to say. Merely look at the fact that my brothers won’t even let any bachelors come near ten feet of me let alone get a word in,” I argued. 

“That I do agree with you on the count of your brothers, but to the argument of your abilities to be undesirable to men I do have to argue on that for if I was even close to an eligible match for you, you know I would propose to you but if a man comes to know that you are knowledgeable on all the great poets of our age and the classics, but are also quite fluent in the language of economics and business as well as just the languages of the Old Tongue, Dothraki and both levels of Valyrian my word all the men would be rushing to you as we speak. Also do not ever volley my teaching like that again, I am quite proud of what you have accomplished in my stead,” Tyrion lectured.

“I-Tyrion, thank you for those kind words, I will take into account my skills, because it does seem I need to seriously improve on my self-confidence so to speak,” I agreed.

We then fell into a comfortable silence of us standing on the edge of the dance floor with us sipping on the glasses of champagne that come to greet us, when a handsome man comes into view of me.

“Ah Duke of Dorne, what a surprise it is to see you after all this time,” Lannister greets the handsome stranger.

“It is good to see you again, old friend. I wanted to see how you have been holding up, seeing as your siblings have come back from the big city,” the Duke of Dorne says. 

“Ah well you know how they are, I’ve been trying to avoid their company as much as possible so I have been keeping busy with my studies along with my teachings,” Tyrion responds. 

“I’ve heard that you’ve become quite the scholar. I assume this is one of your students then?” the Duke of Dorne asks, glancing at me. 

My face immediately feels like it’s on fire just from his gaze alone. What is wrong with me? Has it really been so long that I forgot what a handsome man’s gaze felt like?

“Ah! This my dear friend and student, Lady (Y/N) Bridgerton of Honeyholt, Lady (Y/N) this is an old friend and classmate Duke Oberyn Martell of Dorne,” Tyrion introduces us both. 

“A pleasure to meet you,” Duke Oberyn says as he takes my hand and kisses it. 

I curtsy in return as I say, “and I you, Duke”

“May I have a dance with you?” Duke Oberyn offers. 

“It would be my pleasure.” I accepted as I let him guide me to the dance floor.

A new song started to play as we entered the dance scene, and I was immediately taken by the beauty of the music and the strength that hides beneath the Duke’s clothes as he falls into the role of taking the lead in the dance. With his lead, dancing felt as natural as breathing to me, and I got so taken by the charm of his onyx eyes and the scruffy facial hair as he gracefully takes the lead on the waltz we started together.

This particular waltz I knew so well by now because of my brothers and my own learning of it, but to dance it with him, it was enchanting and I became mesmerized with our own beating hearts becoming intertwined with each other and the music. 

Then as soon as the dance started, it ended and we both dutifully took our bows and thanked each other for the dance as we began to walk back to our places. As soon as we do so, the Duke is still standing by me when my brothers almost tackle me with how fast they were coming towards me.

“What are you doing near my sister?” Benedict demands. 

“You are not to be near our sister, Viper,” Colin reprimands.

I jump between the Duke and my brothers as I object, “What is the meaning of this, brothers? The Duke of Dorne had graciously asked for my hand in a dance and I accepted, had I known that you would be so up in arms on me wanting to dance I would’ve looked for him earlier.”

The Duke turned his head to try to hide his smirk at my comment but I saw it at the corner of my eye. 

“You see dear sister, he has quite the reputation of being a rake around the molly houses of Westeros,” Benedict explains. (Molly houses is a word for brothels in regency era which has both male and female prostitutes, and rake is basically a womanizer used for male protagonists in romance novels of the time)

“What is so wrong with that? From what I’ve heard our dear Kingslayer has been rumored around molly as well, and what is the point of this information I doubt he has any intention on taking me there,” I rebutted. 

“I thank you for your kind argument for my reputation but I must apologize to your brothers here because they think that I have an intention on taking your flower before courting you. I apologize to you both, however I will not apologize to the fact that I am very much looking forward to courting you in the near future. From what I’ve heard from Lord Tyrion and now your brothers, it seems you are quite the Incomparable,” the Duke states. 

“You flatter me sir,” I bow my head to him.

“I am very much looking forward to seeing you in the near future Lady Bridgerton, please think of my proposal?” the Duke insists as he takes my hand and kisses the palm of my hand as a way of goodbye. 

I blushed at the small gesture of his all the way back home. However as soon as we got to our home, things were soon broken into chaos with my brothers surrounding me asking how I managed to get the attention of the Red Viper of Dorne.

He was apparently quite well known in the boxing circles of both the Westerlands and Dorne, but equally well known was his pernicious nature with that of the ladies of the night surrounding Westeros and the Reach. 

“I don’t know what you all are rambling about. Have you not opened your eyes when the two were dancing? The Duke and her were very much smitten with each other and were not looking at anyone else when in each other’s company. Also I can think of many ill-fitting matches that could be worse then for your dear sister to be paired with a duke,” my mother rebutted. 

I grinned in victory at hearing my mother’s words knowing we won that round against my protective brothers.

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Three days laters we were in the drawing room with me practicing my piano skills, and everyone was casually doing their own activities. Hyacinth was reading her favorite book, Eloise was writing, Benedict and Colin was playing chess, and mother was listening to me playing. Anthony was in the study deeper in the estate most likely taking care of the finances of the business and estate. 

A butler came in and announced, “Lady (Y/N) we have a bouquet here for you.”

I jumped out of my seat at the piano along with my mother, we both exchanged excited looks at who could’ve brought me flowers. What arrived was a beautiful large arrangement of red, pink and orange honeysuckles, tulips, and bachelor’s buttons. They were beautiful, I gasped when they were placed on an end table in the drawing room, they were even placed in a beautiful crystal vase. I went towards them and smelled them, when I realized what they all meant: declaration of love and hope. 

As soon as I was taking in the splendor of the bouquet I saw the letter placed next to the vase. I opened it and the letter read:

To the lovely Lady (Y/N) Bridgerton of Honeyholt,

You have quite literally and wholeheartedly enraptured my heart and mind with thoughts of you. I know it may seem like I am making haste with putting my thoughts in letters and ink, but I hope you may like that sort of thing. I am hopeful to see you in the dance of the season to arrive and for you to reserve a dance for me if you so can. I hope your brothers may allow me to accompany you in this way. May the gods and you bless me with your company. I wish you and your family good health and wealth for the rest of your days.

Sincerely and Earnestly, 

Duke Oberyn Martell of Dorne

“Oh mother, come look it’s from the Duke of Dorne, read this letter it's so thoughtful,” I gush as I hand her the letter. 

My mother gasps and reaches the letter from my hand, and as she reads from my periphery I see my brothers whisper to one another from their couch and I see Colin leave while Benedict stays.

“This is wonderful news! It’s only been half a week in this season, and it seems like you’ve already found yourself a suitor, my dear,” mother said.

“It’s all thanks to you mama, my wonderful wit and looks must’ve charmed him and I got them all from you,” I replied. We then looked at each other and bursted out laughing, hugging each other as we giggled at the letter and bouquet. 

“Do you really think he likes me though? Because I have heard what my brothers said about him and they went to the Academy together,” I said suddenly. 

“Oh don’t be ridiculous, you two are about to begin a beautiful courtship I can sense it,” my mother assured me.

“What is going on here?” I hear Anthony stomp over in the room.

“It seems like your sister charmed the Duke of Dorne,” mother explains.

Anthony grabs the letter from the end table and reads it, he hands it over to Colin and Benedict to read, who then turns just as angry as Anthony.

“This is ridiculous, don’t you think he’s going a bit too far and fast with this, mother?” Anthony questioned.

“Well sure it may seem a bit fast but it’s not like he asked for her hand in marriage yet, it’s the start of a courtship, have you seen the flowers he sent her?” my mother reasoned.

“Expensive ones,” I jumped in. 

Anthony glared at me for a moment but then returned to his normal posture as he then gestured to all three of him, Colin, and Benedict as he says, “Just know that we are only looking out for you sister, and if he even dares to touch a hair on your head without your consent, just give the word and we will fight him for you.”

Benedict and Colin nod in agreement but I scoff and replied, “Three against one, seems hardly fair does it?”

“It does when it accounts towards the family honor,” Benedict says. 

I just huffed at that and grabbed the letter from their hands and replied, “Well I think his charming, but if you can think of a better match than him I am all ears, however for now you will to be contempt with the fact your sister is in the dating season in Westeros and I hope you three can wrap your heads around that.”

With that I kiss my mother on the cheek as I bid my farewell to the rest of them as I take my leave to my bedroom where I laid on my bed clutching the letter to my chest. I laid there motionlessly for a minute before a smile spread across my face at the thought of Oberyn Martell writing the letter and handing the flowers himself. 

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The time has arrived for my family and I to arrive at the next gathering, which is to be hosted by the Tyrells this time. The House of Tyrell is known for their lavish spending on the decorations and music, the only family that comes close to their lavish spending are the Lannisters. Lord Mace Tyrell of Highgarden is rarely seen during the parties rather he has a much permanent stay over at the King’s Palace, as he is the King’s most renowned advisor, however the Lady of the House, Lady Alerie Hightower has a graceful demeanor and peaceful aura that one hopes they can be graced with in their lifetime. 

We all gathered into the carriage together when we were all dressed and ready to go, with Anthony being the last to arrive. Mother and I sat next to each other giggling to ourselves and clutching each other’s arms thinking about Oberyn. My brothers sat across from us sulking with their arms crossed, probably scheming about ways to get me away from Oberyn. 

The carriage stopped and the rider signaled us that we have arrived at the Tyrell estate at Highgarden. The estate is beautiful with the castle stretching for miles on either side of the front entrance, with the renowned beautiful rose gardens stretching around the landscape of the castle. It was beautiful, as to be expected of the Tyrells.

We entered the ballroom in which the party is primarily at, and I soon saw Tyrion talking to the hosts of the party, Lady Alerie and her daughter Lady Margery. They both are the belles of the ball tonight, it was also seen as Lady Margery’s debut into the social season, we haven’t talked much so I can’t really say anything about her character. 

Tyrion sees me and waves me over so I do with my mother in tow, we come to greet him and the hosts.

“Lady Alerie, Lady Margery, we are grateful for your invitation,” my mother greets her as we both curtsy in greeting.

I turn to Margery and say, “you look absolutely beautiful this day, might I add the color green really takes to you.”

“Why, I am quite flattered to hear that because from what I heard around the town, you are the Incomparable this season,” Lady Margery remarks.

“It is quite true, even if she doesn’t want to admit it, she is the best student I ever had,” Tyrion says for me. 

“Who cares for me when I heard that a certain prince caught your eye?” I question. 

Margery blushes under the question and Tyrion raised his eyebrows at me in response. Before anyone can further the conversation I heard the band begin to play the first song of the ball. Lady Margery excuses herself as she readies herself to be asked on the dance floor. Within the first verse she did get asked by a handsome bachelor. 

The prince in question was Prince Joffrey Baratheon, he was being groomed to take the role of King of Westeros quite soon, however room speculates about how prepared he may be. In the eyes of high society he was supposed to debut as a bachelor if he was anyone else, but he is the Platinum Prince as people liked to call him. Tyrion likes to call him the Plastic Bastard behind closed doors.

My mother soon takes off as she told me that she was going to try to fend off my brothers from scaring off any suitors my way which I thank her for. 

“So you are hearing things about that loathsome child?” Tyrion questions in a hushed tone. 

“Quite, but don’t worry it’s all gossip, it seems like Lady Margery is getting favors from Prince Joffrey. He seems to be quite adamant that he has found her princess, however the Queen might feel about it,” I state as I watch the dancing. 

“That is quite the speculation, but it does appear you are right, because Lady Alerie seems to think that this debut was only to announce that Lady Margery has come of age into the social season, because it seems like Lady Alerie already picked out and secured a quite permanent suitor for her daughter,” Tyrion speculated with a sip from his glass. 

“I wouldn’t even be surprised if the prince came here uninvited to try and win the people’s hearts with a grand spectacle. How the royal family do like their toys,” Tyrion continued.

“Bite your tongue Lannister, I don’t want to lose a friend simply due to gossip,” I paused then leaned down to whisper to him, “But you are quite right about the toys. It would be a shame if the prince realized he was also a pawn to the Queen’s game as well.”

“Aren’t we all,” Tyrion muttered. We both glanced at each other and shared a smile at that, we clink our glasses together as we drink with smiles on our faces.

“I see you two are together often,” I hear a voice approach us. 

I turned and saw the Duke of Dorne smiling at us, in a very catching navy blue, and golden yellow suit with a dappled blue ascot tied and tucked around his neck. His olive skin seems to glow from the ensemble, and I start to blush at how intense his gaze was at me.

“You see, your grace, it’s merely a ruse so my brothers aren’t as intense at protecting me, they don’t see Lord Tyrion as a threat, so I am able to breathe freely from such scrutiny,” I say with a conspiratory smile on my face.

Tyrion pretends to gasp as he clutches imaginatory pearls around his neck.

“My word, Lady (Y/N) if only your guard dogs can hear you now,” Tyrion states.

We both laugh at that while the Duke has a huge grin on his face, watching us.

“Well now that I know the truth, may I have this dance, I do believe they are about to start the Cotillion Dance if you care to join me?” the Duke offered with his hand out.

“I would be honored, Lord Martell,” I say cautiously as I take his hand and he leads me to the dance floor. 

The music begins and we all stand in formation at the start of the dance, then the dancing commenced. The man of course led this dance as well, and from our first dance together I took well under his lead in the dance. It felt like we were gliding on the dance floor with us twirling and spinning around each other, but I felt safe and confident as we danced together. I felt beautiful and radiant, I looked into the Duke’s eyes and it felt like he had his eyes on me the whole time. The Cotillion ended as we took our bows and he led me off the dance floor.

We found a corner of the ballroom as he took me there, and he began to speak.

“So, I was wondering and I know this might be too soon after our second dance but I would like to propose something to you,” the Duke began.

“Yes?” I urged.

“Well, I would like to begin a courtship with you,” the Duke says.

I let out a startled laugh at that as I immediately put my hand on my mouth at that, I grew hot with embarrassment almost immediately.

“I don’t mean to embarrass you, but you see my brothers are quite adamant at protecting me and if they heard you propose that to me, they would all beat you to a pulp. They also seemed to warn me against you as well I might add,” I warned him.

He quirked his eyebrow as he heard me which he then replied, “I wonder what those warnings might be? Is it that I am a rake? Or is it that I had frequented brothels?”

“There was that, but also that you are a bit of a brute,” I added.

He gave a quiet laugh at that as he shook his head and then let out an exhale. I gave him a soft smack to his torso as I reprimanded, “Don’t laugh! So tell me is it true then? Should I be cautious of you then?”

He gave a dramatic pause as he gave a thoughtful stroke to his facial hair and he looked up to the ceiling as if in quiet deliberation.

“Well all those rumors used to be true a couple months ago, I was quite rebellious towards my family affairs and myself I suppose. I didn’t want to take responsibility quite yet,” he said.

“Well what changed?” I inquired.

“Well to put it quite simply, my older brother, he has his own state of affairs with his own estate at Godsgrace and with our sister Elia passing away so suddenly from influenza we were both stricken with grief,” he pauses as if in reflection.

I nod in understanding, I put my hand on his as I squeezed it in reassurance waiting for him to continue talking. 

After a moment of soft silence between us as the music and society dances around us, we were caught up in each other, in this moment. 

“Well, I suppose that brought things in perspective for both of us, let’s say. I know she loved us until the very end of her life, but I suppose that grief has left me stricken to try and chase anything that made me feel something other than grief and molly houses, duels, boxing, and fencing were all things that did,” he seemed to emphasize the past tense in his sentence.

“Well I am sure if she saw you now, she would not blame you for what you have done. Grief does strange and terrible things to us all. I was similar to you as my papa had just recently passed away this past year, I had locked myself away in my room and not talked to anyone except my mama and even then it was short sentences. They loved each other dearly, my parents,” I explain.

“What got you through the grief?” he asked.

I paused in thought then answered, “Well to be honest, there will always be an ache in my heart for him but what got me through in acceptance was my family and the world outside my window. Nature allowed me to relapse in my head and to just breathe fresh air without thinking of my father, my family, businesses or anything else. It allowed me for a moment to collapse and I think I needed that.”

“You are quite wise for someone so young,” the Duke remarked.

“Well three older brothers and two younger siblings someone ought to be,” I answered.

He smiles at my comment and then replies, “Well I think that does it for our serious conversation. Would you like another dance, my lady?”

“Why I would be happy to, sir.” 

The next dance was led by a bright happy tune and we instantly knew the dance was to be of a country dance. We beamed at each other as we both realized that, it was as if the band realized we needed a reprieve. The dance was filled with bouncing and skipping around the entire floor, and it led to us with bright smiles on each other’s faces as we continued to stare at each other throughout the whole dance. From the corner of my eye I saw my brothers with concerned expressions as they saw me dancing with the Duke, and I also saw my mother and Tyrion both smiling at us. 

“It seems like we have fans,” the Duke whispered to me. 

“And critics,” I added, which made both of us lean back a little and let out a small laugh. 

“I assure you that the criticisms that your brothers may have me are of past consequence,” he tells me. 

“Oh I’m quite confident in that,” I say.

The dance then ended with us as routine in society, we take our bows and he leads off the dance floor. Which we were then greeted with three angry faces and two smiling ones. 

“What are you doing with him, (Y/N)?” Anthony questioned.

“Well I'm having a lovely time, if you must know, brother,” I answered.

“I was also going to ask you something before your family came over,” Oberyn says.

“Oh what is it?” I asked.

“Since we have twice tonight, and from our conversations I would like to make our courtship public and to get approval from your family,” Oberyn announces. (In regency era, if a lady dances only with one man,  especially twice in one night, it is seen as either she is “easy” or she is engaged to that man) 

“How da-” Anthony started. 

“Wonderful,” my mother finished as she elbowed Anthony.

“It seems you have taken fascination with my student, eh Red Viper?” Tyrion asks.

“I sincerely have, and I want to make this an amazing courtship, I know that your family is known for honeyed alcohol but what of sweets? There is an amazing cafe that I would love to take you sometime this week,” Oberyn offered.

“I would love to, Duke” I answered.

“You could take her this weekend, that’s two days away, I’m sure you can take her then,” my mother responds.

“That sounds wonderful,” Oberyn answered.

“Then it’s settled, I can’t wait to see you that day. Well I think we’ll take our leave then,” I say and my mother reached for my arm and we were escorted home leaving Oberyn and my brothers to their own disposal.

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Two days have passed with relative ease even though all three brothers have badgered my ear off with the countless requests to put Duke Oberyn in his place by way of a duel, which I vehemently denied. My sisters have taken to making fun of me for being so enchanted by the Duke of Dorne, and it seems the only person who was my confidante in this new relationship was my mother. 

The clock in the drawing room has struck 12 o’clock meaning that it was time for me to be heading out towards the main town in the Reach which was only 30 minutes away from our estate by foot, so it was easy for me. I took to wearing my riding boots and my favorite dress and wearing my hair in a simple updo fashion, well as simple as one can make it with the fashion trends these days. 

I ended up making it to the main road of the town in enough time that I was allowed to stroll around the town window shopping, until I heard my name being called.

“Lady Bridgerton, there you are,” I heard a familiar voice call out.

I turned to see the Duke of Dorne walking my way to me with a lazy grin etched on his face, which got me to smile back at him.

“Why hello Lord Martell,” I say as I do a small curtsy to him. 

When he fully approached me he presented his hand to me and as I took it he said, “Shall we?”

“We shall,” I grinned at him.

We made our way to a small cafe that he was adamant that was amazing about their sweets and pastries that they are known for. We found ourselves at a corner of the shop sitting on opposite sides of the table. He ordered for the both of you when it came to that, because he insisted that there were some things that he simply must do for me and to trust him.

I huffed and playfully glared at him as we got our treats in order for us., and he returned my glare with a stare of his own. A smirk plays across his features as he takes a dip into a lemon custard that he got, wrapping his tongue around the spoon. 

I inhaled sharply as I watched and I got flustered when he caught my eye, I hurried myself with drinking my hot chocolate that I got. I saw his expression become bemused at what he saw me doing from my periphery, and I tried to shake my head of the thoughts that were swirling in my head. 

“So, I was thinking…”

“Oh a dangerous activity indeed,” I teased.

“Hush, I was merely about to ask, what are some things that you would like to do while we are courting, because I would like this to be a worthwhile endeavor for the both of and make this the best courtship for you”

“Well, that’s rather kind of you, but I am sure you are aware that I have not courted anyone at all, and to be quite honest with you I don’t know a thing about courting. Sure I know mannerisms and what to say as well, but what goes beyond that? I simply don’t know. My brothers won’t tell me a thing, and my mother won’t tell me a thing about it.”

“Hmm, well we’ll take it slow then, okay? If I do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable or strange tell me, hmm? I have every intention of making you my wife, so let’s get to know each other during this courting period and don’t worry about not knowing certain things about life because from what I heard you are quite the scholar,” Oberyn responds to my rant.

“Well I try to be, I would love to be a writer one day but that is off limits in today’s society, I’m afraid, so I make do with learning as much as I can with the limited options I am able to. Lord Tyrion makes an excellent teacher, whenever he is not professing his love for alcohol or gossiping about the royals,” I let out.

“Lord Tyrion is quite the conversationalist and wine tester, he knows about everyone and everyone’s cousins, unlike his siblings people have no problem extending an invitation his way. Now, what is your favorite thing that you like to learn? There has to be something that you enjoy out of all your lessons,” he asks.

“Well, I do enjoy painting, and I’m rather indifferent towards my sewing lessons which I suppose is mandatory, but I also deeply enjoy playing music. Painting and music are something I am deeply in love with, I love to go to the Opera theater in town. The touring groups that play there are almost always amazing. I also love going to the art galleries whenever they have a new exhibit to display,” I respond. 

“I heard there was going to be a new exhibit opening up in a few days from now, I’m bringing my sister’s favorite painting to be displayed there,” Oberyn states.

“I will be there, I got an invitation from Lady Joanna to be there actually, I’m sure she just wants to keep an eye on me, “ I say.

“Who wouldn’t want to keep an eye on the diamond of the season?” Oberyn questions.

“I hate that people are calling me, as well as the Incomparable? What am I that the other women are not?” 

“Well I am not sure how to put it, but you surely have captivated me, and it seems like your focus and intellect has in fact enraptured all that talk to you,” Oberyn assured me.

“I surely hope not, for there are some that I would happy to never come near me again,” I state.

“Oh? And who would that be? You surely couldn’t be talking about the Kingslayer or the Prince?” 

“You listen to about as much gossip as my mother, I swear.”

“Well is the gossip wrong?”

“No, not exactly but even if I was interested in them, I doubt that my brothers would even think about letting them breathe in my general direction.”

Oberyn laughs at that.

“Well, then I shall count my blessings that I allowed to still be alive so I may take in your beauty,” Oberyn flatters.

“You already got an outing with me, I hardly think you need to do anymore flattering, Duke,” I respond.

“Hmmmm, I think if we were to continue this courtship I think it would only be fair if you would call me by my first name?” Oberyn insists.

I got flustered by his sudden request but then I went to say, “Of course, only if you do the same.”

He raises his eyebrows at me and had a light smile on his face as he says, “Well of course it’s only fair, (Y/N)”

“Oberyn”

“How sweet it is to hear my name from a lovely flower,” Oberyn compliments.

“Well I think that’s enough pandering today, I am sure you must have more important business then just hanging out with me all day,” I say as I brush my dress and start to stand up.

“Oh there is no more important business then spending time with you, honeybee,” he comments and he winks at me when he calls me that new nickname.

My face got hot with that new nickname as I tried to make my way out of the cafe with Oberyn hot on my trail. He suddenly pulled me aside into a walkway that was a clearing in a park that I hadn’t fully noticed before. 

“What? Oberyn? Where are you taking me? I thought we were just heading back,” I questioned him.

“You didn’t think that I would want to part with you so soon, honeybee?” Oberyn asks in return as he spins back to face me.

“I assumed so, my brothers make a point to make sure there are no suitors within an arm’s length of me and I thought you would be the same yet you keep coming back. I thought you would be scared to come near because of my family,” I admitted.

“Ah well, I know how my family is, I am lucky that I was able to grow an estate of my own because my elder brother is the viscount of our family estate and he can be a pain on trying to get me a wife and my personal schedule in general, so believe me when I say I understand siblings. Maybe, not to the extent of your family but to an extent,” He explains.

“Well that explains some of it, I suppose,” I replied.

We were walking side by side at this point and I noticed the sun was just about to set and I realized that we were out together for at least 4 hours, and I was starting to worry what my brothers would think. 

After a few moments in silence Oberyn breaks it as he asks, “I just want to ask, why are you so hesitant about this relationship? Is it truly just because of your brothers that you are not willing to enter this relationship or is it something else entirely?”

“It is mostly because I am afraid Oberyn,” I tell him.

We now stood in front of a beautiful ficus tree with its branches spread all in different directions but the leaves always reaching towards the sun. I turn my focus on studying this tree instead of looking at him, embarrassed for admitting my fear. For I want to love him with my whole being already but scared of the novelty of it. 

Oberyn hummed in thought as he heard my fear and after a moment of silence he spoke up, “Well then we shall take it slow, as slow as we can in this season anyway. The gods know how the Queen loves a good wedding.” 

I turned to him and I smiled softly at how gently he spoke. “Thank you Oberyn then I will see you at the gallery then,” I say to him.

“Yes you shall, now let’s get you back before your brothers come looking for us and to take my head.”

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

The days seem to blur as I wait in anticipation for my next meeting with Oberyn, it has been less than a week since we have started courting but I am already infatuated with the man. Relationships have started off with less in these times, right? I mean Countess Daneryes had an arranged marriage with Count Drogo, they seem happy enough from the little times they do make a public appearance but I can only imagine if things were to have been worse.

During the few days between my dates with Oberyn, I had been pressured to practice my music skills more, as my mother thinks that a Duchess should know the masterpieces of the piano. I just hope one day I’d have the liberties to be able to compose my own piece on the piano.

Benedict had recently taken art classes, Colin also started taking fencing lessons, and Anthony has been Anthony. When I announced that I would be attending the new painting gallery, Benedict showed his interest in escorting me there as well as wanting to see the new art in general. With that settled, Colin and Anthony begrudgingly said that they’ll let me go on my own with Benedict. My mother seemed equally as excited as I am about the art gallery, because I have talked to her about Oberyn and she approves of the relationship.

Benedict and I went off to the gallery once we were already ready to go. We stepped foot in the carriage and off we went to the main city’s art gallery. The ride went quickly and rather quietly as well, but I didn’t pay any mind to the silence. I was just excited to see Oberyn again. 

We arrived at the gallery, and once we stepped inside I was absolutely mesmerized by the decor and ambience of the entire place. The paintings were displayed in front of a beautiful burgundy backdrop all throughout the place. My brother and I bid our farewells to each other as we went to go look at the different paintings. 

I explored and looked at the different types of paintings that were displayed around the gallery.

“Well if it isn’t Lady Bridgerton, how very nice to see you,” I heard a voice coming up to me. 

I looked to my right to see Duchess Joanna, I bowed my head towards her and gave her a polite greeting as well.

“I’m glad to see you got my invitation well, how is your relationship going with Duke Oberyn?” Duchess Joanna asked. 

“I think it’s going well, at least I hope so,” I respond.

“So when do-” 

“Ah Duchess Joanna, how good to see you here. I want to thank you for extending an invitation and for me to display my family’s paintings here,” I hear a familiar voice interrupt.

I tilt my head to Oberyn as he made his appearance between the Duchess and I, it seems he must’ve heard the conversation and wanted to circumvent the question the Duchess was about to ask.

“Of course, and I see you have found each other so I will be taking my leave,” Lady Joanna says and with that she walks off.

Oberyn turns to you and as you meet each other’s eyes you both smiled.

“It seems that you were about to meet a very uncomfortable question with Lady Joanna,” Oberyn began.

“So you decided to intervene then? Ah, my hero,” you stated. 

The smiles never faded from either of your faces as you two began to walk around the gallery. When you were passing by an entry to a hallway of another gallery, Oberyn nodded towards it and guided you to walk through it, and when you got there you were amazed by the two pieces adorned on either side of the wall. 

The first one we saw was on all accounts a technical masterpiece, but as I was looking at it all I felt was cold calculating movements and techniques that are being taught today. The second one however was of a landscape, and it looked like it was of Dorne, there was a familiarity to it and a warmth surrounding the piece that I felt like I was home already.

“So what do you think?” Oberyn asks.

“Well, the first one felt frigid like it was only made to be appraised for its techniques and nothing else. However this one, this one, felt so warm, so comforting, it feels like hiraeth,” you say as you turn to him. 

He hums in acknowledgement and looks at you with a small smile on his face.

“This was my sister’s favorite, and behind was our father’s commission piece, I think you spoke well on the differences here. I feel the same, I began to feel that this was my favorite as well, after she died. What is hiraeth? I’ve never heard that word before,” Oberyn responded.

“It means to be homesick for a home that never existed,” I answered.

Oberyn nodded in acknowledgement and we both turned to the painting again, looking at the beautiful image in front of us. The distant voices of the rest of the guests slowly faded away as we continued to stand almost shoulder to shoulder with each other. I felt a pull towards him, I wanted to hold his hand so badly, it was strange, but did he feel the same? I glanced quickly to see our hands reaching for each other and we felt our fingertips touch. As soon as we felt them we heard a loud crash. With that loud crash, our little microcosm came crashing down with that sound. 

We turned to the source of the sound and we were greeted with the sight of my brother Benedict sliding on the floor and met my eyes. 

“Ah there you two are, I was wondering where you ran off to,” Benedict states.

“Like I didn’t see you running off to see your mentor just in time to avoid Lady Joanna,” I bounced back at him.

“That doesn’t prove anything, dear sister, and anyway we should be getting back, I should escort you back to the house, even if you do have a suitor now,” Benedict eyed Oberyn as he spoke.

“I hope to see you soon, maybe we shall go for a picnic?” Oberyn asks you.

“Speaking of picnics, well not really, how would you want to come to dinner one day? Our mother seems keen on meeting you properly, you know my brothers, and my precious little sister, but pray my mother, so here is an invitation for you to come over tomorrow. Don’t worry, mother knows about it (Y/N),” Benedict interrupts.

I just gaped at him as I heard him talk, I knew my mother wanted to talk to Oberyn, but have him over for dinner? Isn’t that a bit much? I turn to Oberyn, I see he had a lazy grin stretched across his face.

“Well, how can I say no to such an invitation,” Oberyn lamented and he claps his hands together looking between the three of you with a smile on his face.

With that you all started to head back into the thrums of the gathering in the gallery, as Benedict walked ahead you walked a bit slower with Oberyn.

“I am eager, adamant and sincere about this relationship, honeybee, and I hope you and your family see it that way as well,” Oberyn tells you.

“Oberyn, you make my heart burn with such sweetness that you say to me, and if you keep that up I’m sure my mother will fall under your charm as well,” I murmured to him.

After that my brother and I said our farewells to the appropriate guests and we headed our way back home.

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

News has reached all of my brothers and sisters about how Duke Oberyn has finally decided to make an appearance to the Bridgerton estate, which got my sisters and mother very excited about this new man coming to visit that wasn’t family.

My brother, Anthony, seemed to be brooding the most about this new development, which I could’ve seen coming from a mile away. Colin and Benedict were taking it better then expected except now they have decided would be an excellent time to warn me against Oberyn even more vehemently before. I still don’t understand why my brothers are so against this, I like him, isn’t that enough? Or is it because they were friends in the same academy? 

The preparations have made for the table and the maids and butlers have made sure that everything is pristine in the household, and as the time ticks down for Oberyn to arrive, I’ve become increasingly more worried that something might go wrong. 

Then once the hour arrived, we got word that Oberyn had arrived and we all got ready to greet him. Oberyn walked into the drawing room where we all were loitering, Hyacinth and Eloise were reading and embroidering, I was talking to my mother, and the three brothers were all talking amongst each other. Once we were aware of his presence we all said our polite greetings, with my mother going straight away to compliment him which Oberyn took and reflected back to her.

We all made our way to the dining table where the food was already present on the table, as we all took our seats Oberyn moved his way to me and sat down with me.

Then dinner began and with that our usual chaotic family conversation began. Hyacinth refusing to eat her vegetables, Eloise teasing her, Benedict and Colin teasing each other and shoving each other at the table and my mother chastising every one of them. 

Oberyn leans to whisper to me, “I didn’t know family meals could be so entertaining.”

“Oh you should see them during the holidays, they’re entertainment all by themselves,” I whisper back. 

I look up and see Anthony glaring at us, I turn back to Oberyn and asked him, “Why is Anthony so opposed to our relationship?”

“He’s your brother, ask him,” Oberyn answered.

“And he’s your friend, plus he won’t talk to me no matter how many times I ask,” I pressured him,

“I think it’s all about my past, I normally wouldn’t have seen myself with a longtime commitment but with you I do, and I think your brother is having difficulty realizing that I grew out of my adolescence,” he answered.

I nod and smile at him in understanding, I reach for his hand under the table and squeeze it in reassurance, which in turn made him smile at me.

“Well, Duke, I have seen and heard that you have become quite attached with my dear daughter,” my mother spoke up.

Oberyn straightens his back in his chair and he replies, “I am very much attached with her, Lady Violet. I’ve come to nickname her honeybee.” 

“Did you allow him to call you this?” Anthony glared.

“Yes I did, brother, and he allowed me to just say his first name as well, I do hope you realize that we are sincere about each other,” I replied.

Anthony sighed while mother gave me a soft smile in return, and I looked to see Oberyn beaming at me.

“Well, Duke, I do hope to see you marry her before the season ends, it’d be a shame to see this season go to waste,” my mother pestered.

“Mother,” I warned her and all I got in return was a confused look from my mother.

“I have every plans on doing so actually, I hope for every one of you to see how sincere and earnest I am with your daughter,” he turns to me and takes my hand and he kisses it lightly, “she has me so under her spell, she has me bewitched body and soul, and I am not sure how any marriage proposal would befit how she has me feel.”

I felt my whole body flush with heat and tears pricked my eyes at the praises and endearments he was giving me. He was ethereal, otherworldly, with how he treated me and I swear to the old gods that if that wasn’t his marriage proposal then-

“Well I think that was as good of a marriage proposal as any,” Hyacinth quipped from the other side of the table. 

Oberyn’s face turned as red as the roses set on the table. I see from the corner of my eye my mother nods to Oberyn and he takes a deep breath. He stands up and kneels before me with both of my hands in his and what I saw in his eyes made it click in my head what was happening.

“(Y/N), my honeybee, we may have known each other for two months and started courting for half of that time, but I already know in my heart of hearts that you own my everything already. Whenever we part I am always thinking of our next meeting, and I may have already talked to your mother about this, and I want you to make me the luckiest man in all of the world, and let me call you my wife as I am already yours fully, so you can call me husband. So will you marry me?”

Tears flowed down my face as I slid off my chair to cling onto him tightly as I said, “Yes, a thousand times yes, I will marry you Oberyn Martell, I love you so much.”

“As I do you, my love, I love you too,” he whispers to me as he caresses my head. 

Applaud littered the dining hall with my family congratulating us as well as the staff on our new engagement. As we stood in this new feeling, I reveled in it and I felt elated, like I was floating and I couldn’t get down even if I wanted to. 

I looked at Oberyn and he looked at me with such love and adoration that I knew I made the right choice. I found the love of my life and I found it in him.

[pensbridgrton]

“Are you wearing my shirt” with Eloise and Phillip please!

disclaimer: the reason this is so late anon (if you’re even still around at this point with all the shit i was getting yesterday) is bc TSPWL is a bit of a blur in my head and tv!Eloise and book!Eloise are quite a bit different, so i had to figure out how to reconcile them in the characterization. so if all of this is super ooc i apologize!

“Are you wearing my shirt?”

Eloise glances over her shoulder as she continues braiding her hair. Phillip lounges in their bed, shirtless, and she tries not to smile at the picture he paints: one hand behind his head, muscles flexing, the other arm outstretched as if reaching for her. He’s bulky and tall and inviting... but there’s a tiny, confused frown on his lips and his eyes glow and Eloise loses the battle, grinning.

He’s adorable.

“I didn’t have anything else to wear,” she responds, tying off her braid. She checks to make sure all her toiletries are back in her bag before crawling into bed with him. “Since someone ruined my nightdress yesterday - ”

“Technically that was this morning.”

“ - and I couldn’t exactly run all the way back to my apartment without you worrying... this is my only option.” Her hands linger by the hem of the his shirt; it’s black and loose and smells like him. “Do you want me to take it off?”

“Absolutely,” he says without hesitation, sitting up straighter and eyes directed at her chest. “Immediately.” Eloise laughs and instead lays down and Phillip growls, pulling her towards him. “You’re a tease.”

“You’re easy to tease.” She smiles against his heart, her voice muffled. But she leaves a tiny kiss, lingering over his skin. With his fingers running up and down her spine, Phillip kisses her forehead.

There’s silence for a moment, just him and her, before:

“I think you should move in.” Eloise freezes, processing, each word clicking like a rusted gear. Phillip stiffens too. “I mean - you don’t have to - but I thought - it would be nice if you’re stuff was here and then you wouldn’t need to leave all the time... and it’s not like Amanda and Oliver don’t already know, so it’ll just be easier... but obviously if it’s too soon or you’re not ready or - ”

Eloise knows she’s the talker of the pair, so when Phillip starts rambling like this - 

She smiles, pulls back, and kisses him hard. Immediately, Phillip kisses back, the nervousness of his words channeled in the embrace of her lips. When the tension in his shoulder fades and Eloise really can’t keep from grinning, she moves back. Smiling, she makes sure her eyes are locked onto his. 

“Yes.” Eloise traces the skin beneath his eyes, soft and wrinkled; the scruff lining his jaw, rough and prickly. Her thumb rests just beside the corner of his mouth. “Yes, I’ll move in with you.”

Eloise can feel his joy and releases it through her own lips, laughing when he pulls her beneath him. “Yes?”

Eloise nods, still grinning. “Yes.”

And when Phillip attacks her in kiss, her own giggles vibrating through her ears, she gladly strips off his shirt. 

It’s better on his floor anyway.

[allkinds-oftrash]

To Lady Paige, With Love

A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first time writing for Bridgerton and Regency in general so hopefully it's not too OOC and modernized but do let me know if you have tips to make the writing style seem more regency-like.

Main Pairing: Eloise Bridgerton x FemOC! Paige Crane (Past! Marina Thompson x Paige Crane)

Anyways this came to me as an idea because I just could not stand Phillip in the original To Sir Phillip, With Love and big thanks to @ladiesofwinterfell whose Phillip posts only fuelled my need for a new version of TSPWL. So I wanted to try my hand at writing a genderbent version of him who softer and kinder in her approach when with Marina. Instead, I somehow made a completely new character who happens to be his twin sister Paige. I tried my best to follow the book very closely with of course changes to the point of view and how Marina is treated by Paige. Another thing to note is that I used a mix of the show (especially when crafting Marina's backstory it's straight out of S1) and book's background of the characters.

I'm going to stop babbling now, and happy reading everyone!

Content & Trigger Warnings: Mentions/Descriptions of (Postpartum) Depression, Implied Child Neglect, Suicide Ideation, Suicide Attempt, Teen Pregnancy (?? I dunno if this needed to be tagged as tw but Imma add it anyways), Death and Grief.

Part 2 - Chapter 1: Right Where You Left Me

Prologue: Take Me To The Lakes [14th February 1823]

It shouldn’t have been a sunny day. It was far too beautiful of a day for a tragedy to occur.

A tragedy on Valentine’s Day, it was almost laughable.

Paige had asked the servants to open up Marina’s curtains. She knew the sunlight would do her some good. While waiting for the kitchen staff to prepare a delightful breakfast of pancakes - Marina’s favourite - she decided to check on her flowers. She had grown a lovely patch of Eden roses, specially for her best friend.

Ever since her brother Phillip and her were children, they were enamoured with botany. Phil, of course, immersed himself in the science of it. Paige preferred simple gardening. If she needed information on more complex maintenance of their plants, she knew where to find his textbooks. Over the years, Paige had developed a thumb as green as her brother’s. While Philip used botany as an escape, Paige used it as a way to connect. It was the very same type of roses that helped Paige find her way to Marina.

September 1812

Marina Thompson was a sight to behold. Her corkscrew curls were half pinned up, allowing the bottom wave of curls to be free. Paige couldn’t help but be mesmerised at how well suited her hairstyle was. Marina had a side part, almost covering the left side of her face. She donned the most simple of peach day dresses. Yet to the Crane girl, it seemed to be the most beautiful piece of garment she could have worn. To this day, Paige swears she heard music swell around her the moment she saw Marina bent over, smelling the rose bush.

She takes a deep breath. It helped ground her to muster the confidence to approach the beautiful stranger. The Crane twins have always been shy and reserved. It had done nothing good for them. She was tired of letting life pass her by. Philip could hide in the bushes for all she cared. Today, Paige decided to make a choice. A choice that could potentially bring her happiness. She was going to talk to the girl who made her heart sing.

Taking baby steps, she finally reaches Marina and gives her an awkward smile. When she needed it most, words seemed to fail her. Marina felt Paige’s presence hovering and looked up. She smiled kindly at her and handed over a rose she had plucked. Paige looked down at the rose, in a slight panic. She was rooted to the ground, unable to say or move.

“Good evening, Miss…?” Marina kept her eyes trained on Paige. She trailed her greeting off, hoping to get a name. Paige immediately fell for the warmth in her eyes. She felt safe. That definitely helped to ease her up.

“Crane. Paige Crane.” She cleared her throat awkwardly before introducing herself. She takes the rose from Marina and the two girls shake hands. All Paige could think about was how warm and soft her hand felt. Struggling to say more, she turned her focus to the rose. She twirled it around in her fingers and looked at her companion.

“These are Eden roses, also known as Rosa ‘Pierre De Ronsard’ named after the French poet. However, it was far too pretentious of a name for those out of the French border. So it was renamed Eden Climber to convey the idea of paradise was created by the exceptional beauty of this rose.” She was acutely aware she was rambling. It was the way Marina was watching her intently that brought her comfort. Marina gave her a cheeky smile when she was done with the fun fact.

“An exceptionally beautiful rose for an exceptional beauty.” Marina gestured to Paige. The botanist’s cheeks started to turn as pink as the rose.

“Eden roses from the girl who seemed to have fallen from Eden.” She thought to herself...until she heard Marina chuckle. Paige stared at her, horrified. “I thought out loud, didn’t I?”

Marina nodded, laughing with her whole body now. If Paige could have bottled the sound, she would. Marina grinned at Paige as she looped her arm through hers.

“Don’t be embarrassed. That was a lovely compliment. I think we're going to be wonderful friends, Paige Crane.”

They have been inseparable since.

***

With Phillip away on business for the week, Paige made sure to spend extra time with Marina. She carefully cut the stems of the roses to make a small bouquet. She tied them together and brought them straight to the kitchen. She placed the roses by the pancake plate. She picked up the tray and made her way to Marina's room. She balanced the tray on one hand and knocked with the other as she crossed the threshold.

"Marina, are you awake, love?" Paige asked gently. She stepped closer to her and held out the roses. "I brought you your favourite roses too, Eden Climbers. An exceptional beauty for an exceptional beauty." She echoed the line from their first meeting.

It was love at first sight. She remembered how much fun they had together. Oh where had the time gone? She frowned when she noticed the curtains were shut again. She set down the breakfast tray by her nightstand before making herself comfortable next to Marina lying down.

"If you could walk to shut the curtains, you can sit up to have some breakfast. I had the chef make your favourite." Paige attempted to waft the smell of pancakes in the direction of her companion. Marina simply turned away and stared out at the window. Paige reached out to gently stroke her hair.

Marina had her good and bad days come and go. Paige knew she had to give her space and let her heal on her own. It had been 9 years….this was definitely more serious than postpartum. She was sure of it. Paige gave her a few more minutes before digging into the breakfast herself.

"Rina, I will finish all of the pancakes if you don't come get some!" Paige attempted to sound threatening but her meek voice did her no favours. She caught a silver of a smile on Marina's face. That was all she needed that day. They just had to get through this one moment at a time.

"I saw that, love. Would it be easier if I fed you?"

Marina managed a small nod. She detested feeling like this. Like she was constantly drowning. If everyone thought they couldn't understand why she was this way, she hadn't had the foggiest idea either. Most of all, she hated how it affected Paige. Marina knew she didn't deserve this. Paige deserved a whole person not the shell of a woman she had become. She let out a soft sight and did her utmost best to sit up slightly so they wouldn't get syrup all over the sheets.

Slowly and surely, one bite at a time, Marina finished a full pancake by herself. Paige beamed at her proudly after she was done. Marina took the moment to relish in her smile. Paige always made everything better. Marina might have been depressed but she was no fool. She knew what Phillip thought of her. Even if she spent most days unable to leave her bed, she saw the way he looked at her. Like she was a fragile, broken melancholic thing. He didn't see the person underneath. He only saw the shell. Paige… She knew Marina before the twins came along. She knew the true Marina. The one who laughed and smiled and had known joy. The Marina Thompson that loved Paige Crane with all her heart. That should be reason enough to work hard to recover. To retain who she once was. Paige should be enough.

The botanist saw her companion's vacant eyes and knew she was gone for the day. Paige smiled at her comfortingly. "I ought to check on the children. I shall leave you to rest, dearest. Do ring the bell should you need anything at all." She pressed a soft kiss against her forehead before taking her leave.

As she stepped out looking for the children, Miles directed her to Phillip's greenhouse. The children loved to make mischief there when their father wasn't there. She popped her head into the Greenhouse.

"Amanda! Oliver!" She said sharply to startle them. Seeing them jump out of their bones, she couldn't help but laugh. The twins turned to her and frowned.

"Aunt Paige, that's not funny!" They pouted at her. She snorted.

"Well it was pretty funny when you did it to me yesterday. I'm simply returning the favour, my dears." She chuckled, pulling them into her embrace.

Just as she was about to suggest playing hide and seek by the lake, Amanda squeals. "Mother!" She pointed behind Paige. Paige simply blinked at her niece before slowly turning around.

Marina? It couldn't be. She caught sight of a flash of red. Red. Paige smiled to herself as she shook her head. It must be her. Red was her favourite colour. Marina always said she liked it because it was a strong colour and it made her feel strong.

Paige was filled with joy. Marina had finally gotten the strength to step out. She grabs the children's hands to bring them over to their mother. It would do them good to spend time together outside of her room. The trio was halfway across the field when Paige worked out exactly why Marina had come out. The horrifying epiphany clicked when she saw Marina slip rocked into the pockets of her dress. She immediately turned to the children. They did not have to witness this.

“Children, I need you to do me a favour.” She put on her most calming smile. She kept looking back at Marina to see how far she was away from the lake. “Could you be dears and please fetch Miles for me? Then I need you to go and play in your room. Your mother and I need to speak privately.”

“Why is she walking to the lake?” Amanda questioned. Paige tried to keep her composure. If the children kept questioning, she wouldn’t be able to reach Marina in time.

“I will explain later, please get Miles. It’s urgent.” Paige sent them off running while she sprinted in the other direction the moment they were out of sight.

“MARINA, STOP!” She bellowed at her best friend. She skidded across the field and fell face flat just yards away from the lake. Marina was completely oblivious, submerging herself into the depths of the lake. It was just her and the magnetic pull of the lake. It was like Paige wasn’t even there. She quickly recovered. She didn’t waste time undressing and dove straight into the icy waters to rescue Marina. She’ll be damned if she was going to let the love of her life go without a fight.

She couldn’t find her. Marina had dropped off to the deep end and Paige felt like she couldn’t breathe. She could never forgive herself if Marina succeeded. A glimmer of hope shone through when she caught sight of Marina’s ruby red cloak floating to the surface. Before it could get sucked into the depths of the lake, Paige screamed Marina’s name one last time as an attempt to snap her out of it. Of course, Marina couldn’t hear her. Paige set her sight on the flash of red and swam to it.

Paige did the math; Marina had been under barely a minute. It was probably not enough time to drown, but every second it took her to find Marina was one second toward her death.

She remembered swimming in the lakes with Phillip when they were children countless times. While he still swam and knew the lake better than she did. She had a vague idea where the bottom dropped off. She felt relief when she quickly found the critical point with swift, even strokes. The main obstacle was her dress working against the drag of the water, slowly her down. She cursed, not having stripped before she went in. She did her best to overcome it. Saving Marina was far too important.

She told herself she could find her. She had to find her. Before it was too late.

She found herself diving further down the murky waters. She struggled to keep her eyes open with some of the sand from the bottom swirling around her. Marina must have kicked it up as she went down. The opaque clouds of sand were making it difficult to see. Eventually, relief washed over Paige again when she spotted Marina’s red dress.

She didn’t hesitate to shoot through the waters, down to the bottom where she saw the red of her

cloak floating through the water. Paige felt her heart slow down the moment Marina was in her arms. While they were both petite women, Paige did struggle initially to swim up with Marina. Slowly but surely, she forged their way to the surface. Once she had pulled her onto the grassy knoll of the meadow, she had already lost consciousness and was nothing more than a dead weight in Paige’s arms. She took a moment to take big gasps to fill her aching lungs once again. She made sure she was okay herself before turning to save Marina.

Paige tried shaking her awake, rather violently to get the water out of Marina’s system. Just as she started chest compressions, Miles came running over.

“What happened?”

“She...fell in.” She didn’t even look up at him. She hated how her voice trembled as she said that out loud. She couldn’t bring herself to admit that Marina had gone in on purpose. Marina had chosen to leave her. She knew it was hard on her love but she refused to think about it presently. She was too busy trying to revive her. When the chest compressions felt like a failed task, Paige turned to mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. She blew the air into her mouth, hoping the water would come up her throat.

“Marina, please.” Paige pleaded as she finished her set of resuscitation. All she could do was wait. She finally turned to look at Miles, “Miles darling, could you help me send someone to fetch the doctor.” She requested, exhausted clear in her voice. He nodded swiftly and set on his task. Just as he turned to head to Romney Hall, Marina coughed up the water and started rasping. Paige gasped and squealed in surprise, launching herself into Marina’s arms. She called Miles back to help her guide Marina back home.

“You came back to me.” She whispered with relief, starting to softly sob against Marina’s chest. Marina was tired and she could barely keep her eyes open. Her head lulled against Paige’s.

“It’s okay, we’re going home.” Paige continued and Marina stirred, frowning.

“No…” Now it was her turn to sob, “Please don’t. Let me go, Paige. I don’t want...I don’t….” She struggled to get the words out. As much as she felt guilty for putting Paige through this whole ordeal, her pain outweighed that. The pain outweighed everything: her love for Paige, the children, even Phillip - as much as he misunderstood her. It outweighed her will to love.

Paige watched her flounder helplessly. She hated seeing Marina in so much turmoil. She didn’t want to say anything to make it worse. She just held her close and brushed her hair soothingly. “It’s alright. Let’s just get you warmed up first.”

“I can’t.” She whispered with the last ounce of energy before passing out in Paige’s arms. Paige looked down at her sadly for a moment before looking up at Miles. She shot him a sheepish look and gestured for help. Miles carried her in his arms easily while Paige just watched her with worry the whole walk back.

Once they reached Romney Hall’s foyer, she instructed Miles to send a telegram to Phillip informing him of Marina’s condition. She also called for their housekeeper, Mrs. Hurley. After she had gotten Mrs. Hurley to help her strip Marina of her drenched clothes, the older woman practically shoved Paige to her own room to change into dry clothes. She argued with her, refusing to leave Marina alone for even a moment.

“Go on, dear, I’ll be with her until you return.” Mrs. Hurley shooed Paige out of the room. She huffed and obliged. She dashed to her room to quickly change out of her own icy clothes.

She found one of her old dresses, it was a yellow floral one that Marina loved so much. Marina used to tell her that it brought out the golden flecks in her brown eyes. Paige never liked her brown haired-brown eyed look and found herself to be plain looking. It was only when Marina came along, she felt seen. Maybe being plain didn’t matter when someone loved you in spite of it. Hopeful the dress would stir up old memories, Paige stepped into Marina’s bedroom nervously. She said a silent prayer for her to be well. That the 7 minutes didn’t do that much damage.

Marina was sleeping soundly when Paige entered the room. She couldn’t help but smile at how at peace Marina looked. At that moment, she understood why Marina spent so much time hiding away and sleeping. This was probably the only place in the house that brought her peace. Sleeping brought her peace.

She had Miles check on the twins before she settled into staying by Marina’s side. She wanted to be there every step of her recovery. Then after, they could get her some real help. The twins were plenty occupied with their playtime for the day. While waiting for the doctor, Paige slipped into the bed by Marina’s side. She cradled her head against her chest and prayed. Even though she was a woman of science and was the type of Christian that only attended church during Christmas, praying was one comfort of her religion she allowed herself. She prayed for all her wishes for Marina. For her happiness, recovery...for the good times to hopefully return. As she wished, hoped and prayed, she found herself falling asleep.

When the night came and brought the doctor along with it, Paige woke with a start at the feverishly warm body beside her. The panic set in and the doctor did his best to soothe her. He coaxed her out of the bed so he could check on Marina. Paige was more than happy to oblige but stood hovering over the doctor’s shoulder the whole time.

When he diagnosed her with pneumonia, Paige’s heart sank. That was definitely going to finish the job Marina set out to do in the lake. He saw her expression and comforted her by saying she could very well recover. Essentially, it was a waiting game. Paige made peace with those odds, she would gladly take all the time in the world with her. She spent the rest of the night and the next three days nursing her. She dabbed wet cloth after cloth against her warm forehead. Made sure she had the fluffiest pillows and duvet. She specially had the cook make all of her favourite dishes to go with the broth Marina detested.

Paige wanted to tell her to fight but she didn’t want to push her. Instead she spent the last few days together, helping Marina remember the woman she once was and could be again. Paige wanted her to remember to fight for herself.

The morning after, she sat by Marina’s bedside and smiled tenderly at her.

“Do you remember our first season together?” She asked, her elbow propped against the mattress, her face resting on her palm.

Marina turned to her and looked straight into her eyes. For a moment, she was lucid. “Of course,” She said, coarsely. Paige smiled, that was the best response she had gotten from her in the last few months.

“Best and worst year of our lives, I’d reckon. I was so certain I finally had the courage to tell you how I felt. Only for me to find out you were besotted with George and was pregnant with his child!” She could chuckle about it now but she remembered feeling so awful.

Paige Crane has always known she was different in that aspect. None of the boys growing up ever caught her attention. When she became a woman, out during her first season, she couldn’t relate to the way other girls had talked about their suitors. Nothing about the male species ever stirred anything romantic within her. They were just really good friends to her. Women, on the other hand, gave her all the feelings the human emotional spectrum allowed. She wanted to love them and worship them forever. When she met Marina at Romney Hall for the first time smelling the rose bushes, it had confirmed everything she already knew. She loved women. A regular Anne Lister.

She spent a few years loving Marina until her father had sent her away to stay with her London cousins, The Featheringtons. When she heard Marina was moving, she immediately sought out her mother.

“I couldn’t bear to part with you so I convinced Mother to let me debut that season in the city.” She chuckled, recounting the lengths she went to be close to her.

“I’m glad you did.” Marina croaked, the water still hurting her lungs. Now that she felt like speaking to Paige, her body was failing her. She managed a small smile and slipped her hand into hers. She definitely remembered their first season together. It was the best time… til everything quickly went downhill with the news of George’s death, being pregnant with the twins and feeling so alone. Paige was the light in all of that darkness, she had helped pull her out of the loneliness.

Paige grinned back wildly. "I think that's the first full sentence I've heard you speak in the last few months." She nudged her teasingly.

"Oh hush." She attempted to be annoyed but started coughing violently. Paige immediately shot up.

"I'm going to fetch the doctor."

"I just need some water, darling." She coughed once more. Then took a deep breath and managed a smile to show she was fine, despite her exhaustion. Paige nodded and went to fetch her a glass.

As Marina watched Paige walk out the door, she thought back to how much everything had changed in the last 10 years. It only felt like yesterday they had debuted and Marina had tried to marry Colin Bridgerton. Oh, what a mess that was. She was so consumed by her love and grief for George, she missed what was right in front of her.

It took Marina a long time to realise it but she loved men and women the same. Paige was definitely the first woman to stir up romantic feelings within her. It also took her a while to realise loving Paige doesn't count the love she held for George. He would always be the father of her children. Paige was the love of her life.

She never expected to be like this. She always thought she would be a good mother, full of life and happy. Happy was such an overrated emotion, Marina thought bitterly. It's not something that happens, it's something you work for. You make happiness for yourself. She knew that all too well. She spent the better part of the last decade fighting off her grief and postpartum with no success.

Paige reminded her to take comfort in the good days. It was rather jarring to Martina how she was experiencing a somewhat good day after all these months. Especially the day right after she made an attempt on her life.

"Penny for your thoughts, darling?" Paige asked, handing over the glass. Marina gulp it down quickly and set the cup aside.

"Just...how we got here. I thought it would be…" she ponders over the word, "different."

"Hmm," Paige hummed, "You're telling me. We could have had quite the life if I was a man. I could have married you instead of Phillip." She wrinkled her nose. She really does love her brother, Lord only knows. And Paige is pretty sure it's a crime to hate your twin. But she absolutely despised the way Phillip treats Marina. Or rather not - he completely abandoned her in the last few years.

It's no secret that Phillip and Marina's marriage was one of convenience, security and protection for Marina. Of course, Romney Hall needed heirs and so two birds. But, he could at least pretend to care for her.

"I could have become a spinster like you. We could have been the two crazy spinsters that lived in Romney Hall together." Marina chuckled. Paige beamed at her. It had been so long since she had heard that wondrous laugh.

"I'm not a spinster!" She clasped Marina's hands in hers. "We may not be married on paper but I couldn't imagine spending my life with anyone else. I can't imagine...loving anyone else." Paige looked deep into her eyes. Marina shivered slightly. Her lover had a way of looking directly into your soul.

Paige knew what the doctor had said. That Marina could possibly recover but her gut was telling her something else. She was hit with the sudden realisation that she could lose her. The love of her life.

"Please fight this, Marina. I know you can. Look at today, it was a good day. You just need to survive the pneumonia and you can start over. We'll erase the last 7 years. Slowly but surely, we can manage your melancholy. You're so much more than it, my love. You know that. Your children deserve to know that."

Paige didn't realise how increasingly desperate she sounded until she began pleading with her. She found her face wet with fresh tears. Marina reached out to wipe the tears of her face.

"I'll try." She said quietly.

"That's all I ask, thank you. I love you, Marina." She leaned over to kiss her. Kissing her back, Marina sighed against her lips. "I love you too."

That night Marina lied awake, watching Paige's chest rise up and down. Marina smiled at her little snores. Just as she felt a glimmer of happiness laying beside her love, the guilt washed over her. She didn't want to promise anything. While today reminded her of the hope she felt to feel alive, deep down she knew it was temporary. She couldn't see herself living past tomorrow.

Sure enough, she was dead in two days.

****

[Read Part 2 Here]

[kanraandchrome]

Ethan Illu Theories

Waiting for Ethan’s route since 2017 be like having too much free time on hand. Hélène Sellier said “ "This choice [in the intro] basically determines her crush -which means the player-character will come to love at the end-. Obviously. Because it’s an otome game." and Beemoov confirmed he’ll be seducible but has a strong character. Maybe that’s why he’s not shown romantically involved with Eloise on the first 6 previews and I’m quite happy he’s not, it would seem OOC otherwise. 

But then why are the previews cropped and zoomed so much if nothing is happening ? My guess is they are trying to create distance between them and the 4 remaining ones will be cropped this way too. But will nothing really happen ? The romance will I guess progress oh so slowly because of his issues and all the times he’ll mess up let’s face it and all the obstacles they’ll have to face whether alone or together. Communication and empathy are not his forte, Eloise will wreck havoc in his life he just started to get together, this is going to be interesting. 

As for the other 6 previews we already have, here are my guesses : 

Looks like either the living-room or the parlor to me because of the red hue but we know there is an attic and I think it’ll be the new place unlocked with Ethan. She probably didn’t believe him about the Chalice and vampire lore and went to check by herself if she really did fall from this high and survived. He comes from behind to welcome her in their world while she’s still in shock, realizing everything he said is true. That, or he’s announcing to all the others gathered in the living-room that “Here’s the new boss of the clan !”. 

He’s in her bathroom which seems FAST for a romance game but let’s not forget Ivan is very here and very unstable. If Ethan bit her and she fled (remember Vlad’s scene), it’s quite possible Ivan tried to assault her while she was cleaning her wound and Ethan threw him away, subdued him (yes I know he can’t fight but let’s pretend), threatened him or anything that might have had her frozen in place while it happened. His stare is sideways, his eyebrows knitted, we don’t see his other shoulder. I think Eloise threw herself against him to calm down and he is patiently keeping watch, still mad and wary that Ivan will come back. 

Eloise’s room. Same curtains and trees visible through the window (though the curtains seem thicker on the background png). Seems FAST again for him to be here, he’s probably uninvited. Maybe the first murder happened during the first party and he’s there to protect her, checking if anyone will try to come through the windows while the others search downstairs (Or, which seems unlikely,  Eloise fell sick to give him an excuse to be here and create a bonding moment, he’s the doc after all and it was foreshadowed it could happen to a Chalice.)

Either the alley behind the Moondance or the tunnel to Neil’s room. If it’s the alley, my guess is Eloise and him went there after an ellipse to have a moment of peace away from the suffocating aura of the manor, and when they went out they found a body left by Neil to say to Eloise “There’s nowhere to be safe for you”. If it’s the tunnel, then probably Ethan (and her ?) was tired of waiting for another murder and took it upon himself to check the unchecked places of the manor, Eloise tagging along or suggesting this place herself in hope to find some of her parents belongings. They probably found the experiment material, hence why she seems so ... I’d say conflicted, as if she doesn’t want to believe it and yet it’s there. 

This one I have trouble to understand. Is her own hand touching her neck, his hand doing it, fingers don’t seem to be wrapped around her throat, and let’s not forget it can be a coloring mistake (hi Béliath Neutral illu). She’s probably still under the blow of learning that her parents were cold-blooded scientists willing to torture a vampire for science. Maybe this will be the chapter when Ethan will tell her how she’s not her parents and doesn’t have to feel guilty of anything for their sake. Maybe it’ll even be the chapter he shares his past with her, whether as an experimenter, an experiment subject (for the Soviets ? An ex-Chalice turned to track like Aaron talked about ?) or anything that could tie him to both her and Neil (and introduce the 7th route ?). My guess is she’s sitting on her bed and he’s crouching in front of her to ground her back to reality even though he himself is losing it (because of memories or hunger). 

Why do we have so much zoom on his illus I swear. She doesn’t seem angry but rather doubting something. The blue hue is not that strong so a well-lit place but with stone walls ? I think it might be either at the Moondance or during a second party and they have a plan : wait for Neil to come out of the tunnel to prevent him to kill again and maybe talk. Ethan suggested she’ll be the bait for enough routes already, I’m pretty sure he suggested it again. Or it’s the chapter when he’ll be starved and he’s biting her for the very first time, that’s why they cut above her nose to not show his white hair. (But he had to feed so why the first bite ? He’s proficient with a knife, cut her wrist sip and let it heal, he’s probably pragmatic like that.) 

[theawkwardterrier]

my whole trajectory's toward you, and it's not losing momentum (call it anything we want)

Summary: Anthony had expected a certain amount of trouble when he took over managing the Danbury campaign. He didn’t imagine this amount. He didn’t imagine that it might at some point become something other than trouble.

There was mention of rival political campaign managers Kate and Anthony and even though I couldn’t quite get there - or make a scene happen which directly featured Newton 😔 - I did manage rivals and political campaigning. So here’s something to serve as incentive, congratulation, or brief respite depending on how far @thesokovianaccords​ has gotten in her grad school application process. Sorry if it’s a bit OOC, Livia - maybe it’s just the right degree to make sense in a modern AU? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Read on AO3

A week into running Dr. Danbury’s campaign, Anthony realizes that he has made a grave error in allowing himself to give in when his mother requested “a bit of a favor.”

At the time she’d asked, he had just gotten the news that his previous candidate was dropping out of his own race for health reasons, and of course, Dr. Danbury has been a fixture for his entire life so he might well have stepped up merely because she needed help (despite knowing that the reason she needed the help was that she’d fired her entire previous campaign team). Besides that, he has rarely been able to deny his mother anything, and that’s even before she brings up the number of hours she spent in labor with him (twenty-two, as he well knows by now) but still...he damn well should have ignored all that this time.

For his money, the most annoying part of not being listened to by the candidate is that her instincts have mostly served her well. Three days after he started, she ignored the common wisdom of maintaining decorum and not insulting the opposition which he had reminded her of before she went on camera, and had only benefited from it; apparently the majority of the constituency agreed that the particular candidate she had been asked about was indeed a “first class wanker who should pray nightly for the brains God gave a goose.” At least she had heeded Anthony’s advice to refer to the man as “my opponent” rather than using his name and giving him free advertising in the soundbite as it was played on nearly every news broadcast for the next several days.

“Well, we seem to have come out of this one all right,” she says, sipping her coffee and looking just the slightest bit smug - he doesn’t lie to candidates, so he had been obliged to report that the latest polling numbers actually went up after the incident. “Anything else, Bridgerton?”

Swallowing the speech he wants to give about how easily things could shift during a campaign, not to mention the difference between what people told a pollster and how they actually cast their votes, he says, “Perhaps we might look to hire a policy director, ma’am? To help...guide the campaign a bit more?”

“If we did, I should wonder what I had hired you for.” She looks at him over the tops of her glasses as if she can tell he is dreaming of responding that ah, well, it seems he is unnecessary, and perhaps he will just excuse himself from the position now. He makes sure his expression remains neutral and finally she waves a hand. “Well, let me see some names and CVs after the weekend, and I shall decide then.”

“Very good.” He extremely purposefully does not sigh until he is out of her office and striding along the corridor of their campaign headquarters. There are plenty of people who will take a call from him on short notice and who will back him with the candidate. Yes, if he can’t quit altogether (and he can’t if he wants his regular seat at Christmas dinner) then having someone in his corner is just the ticket.

He arrives for work on Monday even earlier than his traditional first thing in the morning, wondering to himself whether it will be better to simply present his top applicants or if he should throw in a decoy or two to make his choices shine even brighter - although perhaps that’s just the sort of ploy that the candidate would sniff out in a heartbeat after a career of wrangling university students. Still debating, he turns the corner toward his office, only to find Dr. Danbury in the hall outside, speaking with someone. Anthony doesn’t recognize the person from the back, can only see a fall of shiny, dark hair, so he guesses it is one of the volunteers, perhaps someone new who has arrived early for orientation. He hopes that Dr. Danbury isn’t being too intimidating.

“Ah, Bridgerton,” the lady in question calls down the hallway, and something about her tone makes Anthony’s spine go straight. “Good morning.”

Still, he clings to his good mood as he greets her. “Let me put my things down, and then we can go over your schedule for the day. And I have those CVs you had requested as well.”

“Nevermind those,” she says, and the little smile on her lips makes every one of his nerves stand on end. “Did you know that your mother and I went out for a drink on Friday evening? Oh, yes, we had a wonderful time, and your brother Colin came around to escort us home. Such a lovely boy, had some delightful stories about his trip to Greece - and so interested in the campaign. In fact, he had a brilliant thought when I mentioned your idea for bringing on someone new to help shape things alongside the two of us.”

Whatever virtues his brother Colin might possess, interest in the campaign is absolutely not among them. Skin humming all over, Anthony manages a casual, “Oh?”

“Indeed, and luckily I was able to organize it all over the weekend so you wouldn’t have to do a thing.” She gestures toward her companion, and with a sick swoop in his stomach, Anthony knows who he is going to see before she shifts around.

“I believe you two have met before?” Dr. Danbury says, voice fading just a bit beneath the static in Anthony’s ears as Kate Sheffield turns to face him.

They have not actually met before, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t know of each other.

The first time Anthony heard her name, it was her sister saying it - about twenty times in a row, if he’s being honest. He met Edie Sheffield two years back at one of his mother’s galas. Edie ran a different prestigious kids charity than the one Mum was fundraising for, so he’d wondered if inviting her was somehow inviting the enemy or maybe bragging. But Edie was sweet, and passionate about her job, and looked absolutely gorgeous in sapphire satin, and he settled into a night of getting her drinks and chatting her up, despite the fact that she didn’t seem as interested in speaking with him as she did in mentioning that he really must talk with her sister.

He’d stayed the night in the hotel where the gala had been held (alone, in one of the rooms which had been set aside for guests from the event; he’d put Edie in a car at about 11) and was planning on taking his mother to breakfast after she came down from her own room. When he went to check out, however, the desk attendant handed him a message which had been taken down for him on hotel stationary.

Dickheads like you shouldn’t try to get with my sister. Don’t do it again.

KS

“Is there anything else that I can assist you with?” asked the attendant, holding onto her poker face remarkably. Perhaps they taught that in hospitality programs.

He’d crushed the note in his hand before smoothing his own face placidly and handing over his credit card. His mother was all smiles and chatter during breakfast, but his mind was still on the note, which seemed to have burned itself behind his eyelids.

Dickheads like you - oh, so only other types of dickheads need apply? And get with? Were they twelve years old and couldn’t use grownup words? Not to mention the signature, such as it was. Trying to play mafia boss, expecting that he’d know who had sent it. He did, but it took a lot of bloody gall to assume that he would.

Not as much gall as Don’t do it again. He couldn’t even think of that part, the demeaning certainty of it, without a certain vein beginning to throb in his forehead.

In the two years since, he found himself falling back into analysis of the note - it was barely more than a dozen words, so how could there still be so much to parse? - whenever her name came up, which became more and more frequent as she moved from nothing campaigns in the most forgotten corners of the country to deputy deputy whatever on somewhat more consequential ones. She was gaining a reputation among his peers. They said she was smart and canny, that she had a knack for looking at the bigger picture and acting on her instincts.

(Someone who’d once worked with her had also mentioned that it helped that she didn’t have a high opinion of her looks, didn’t flaunt herself the way some women did around the office - she certainly didn’t have a reason to do so, but sometimes that didn’t stop them.

“Oh, be fair,” said the other man. “She does have quite a nice—”

They’d shut up when he’d walked into the room - everyone knew better than to talk that way around him, and it wasn’t just because of “all those sisters” the way some people said. Eloise had been interning with the campaign that summer, and for the rest of the day while he’d talked with human resources, he’d let her make mistakes on all of their lunch and coffee orders and give them the wrong data for their reports when they’d made her look it up instead of doing it themselves. When he’d fired them, he spread the word on why, but left the particulars out of it.)

The note returns to his mind whenever someone new has their one experience of suggesting Kate Sheffield as a potential hire, or when he thinks he’s seen her in the background of some press conference or event for another candidate, or if he runs into Edie at another charity function, where he absolutely does not flirt with her just that extra bit harder while part of his mind thinks Your move directly toward her sister who he has never actually met in person.

Until now.

“We’re acquainted,” he tells Dr. Danbury, managing to remain polite by avoiding Kate’s gaze. He leaves it at that.

They’re the first two in the conference room for the all-staff the next morning, and somehow he’s not surprised.

“Good morning,” he says as he comes in to find her over by the coffee. She’s doctoring it significantly, clearly already familiar with the quality to be found in a campaign office. He always buys his own; he can’t stand the amount of milk and sugar and oddly flavored creamers required to make the other stuff palatable (and don’t even get him started on the alleged tea).

Tone cool, she replies, “Mr. Bridgerton,” and takes a sip from her mug.

It isn’t as if the staff goes around calling him “Tony” or “boss,” and only the most knock-kneed newcomers call him “sir.” He’s Anthony to most. He has no inclination to correct her.

He works to keep his tone casual and courteous as usual when he introduces her to everyone (“And this is Kate Sheffield, who will be doing some consulting for us”) but something about it must catch Dr. Danbury’s attention, because she raises an eyebrow at him from her end of the table and rests both hands atop her stick.

The fact that the candidate is aware that something is going on between the two of them makes it all the more exasperating when two days later she signs off on Kate’s media and advertising plan over his own. He shows up for dinner with Daphne and Simon that evening as planned, knowing that Daphne would be completely willing to pull the pregnancy card if he tried to get out of it, but she sends him home before the waiter has brought the dessert menus because he keeps muttering about how more people travel by tube and railways and for longer distances but are more likely to take more individual rides on buses and what that means for posting print ads.

(The numbers are seared into his mind, considering she’d included a full breakdown with three kinds of graphs and bloody footnotes in her presentation.)

Getting released from the restaurant early gives him extra time to go back to the office for a bit and put together a preliminary get out the vote strategy. He calls in several favors as a part of it, including one from an old friend of his father’s who asks incredulously, “Really? For this?” clearly wondering whether Anthony’s reputation is deserved if he’s pulling out all the stops for something so routine.

It’s well worth it, however, when Dr. Danbury raises an eyebrow as she looks over the document he’d put together, and tells him, “Well done, Bridgerton, very well done indeed. I think this shall do nicely.”

He does not even glance toward Kate; there really isn’t any need to gloat.

Well, one tiny peek won’t hurt.

Her jaw is set and her eyes are flinty, but she gives him just the slightest nod, as if to say that he might have won this round, but she’d like to see him try the next one.

Just before three in the morning, he wakes himself, panting, from a dream that makes him think he might have to report himself for workplace sexual harassment.

“I would have hoped you’d have better self-preservation instincts,” he says aloud to his body. “Or at least better taste.”

Collapsing back against the pillows, he pushes his mind toward images of ex-girlfriends and celebrities, but no, there is Kate, strong and challenging and gorgeous above him, a vivid afterimage that refuses to go away, and he sighs and gives into it, trying to set himself to rights so he can get past this and find at least a bit more sleep.

Anthony has never been the sort of boss who shouts at people in the office - he has always tended toward cold anger and “you know what you’ve done, now fix it” stares, and doesn’t intend to act differently now. But as he stalks over to Kate’s desk, he finds a fiercer anger taking over, just a bit.

“You changed my media statement,” he says, voice silken with it as he leans his palms down on her desktop and rests his weight on them. He is speaking low, the words just for her, although his eyes roam over the others moving busily around the main space of the office.

She turns her chair slightly, so that he feels the brush of her hair on his forearms where his sleeves are rolled up; it shifts his attention fully in her direction. Her hair tie had snapped earlier, and the thick topknot she tried twisting for herself has collapsed, leaving it free around her shoulders. He snaps himself back from examining the shining curls as she says, “Yes, I did.”

Part of him admires her straightforwardness, that she takes responsibility without even trying to deny it. The other part...well, the anger hasn’t exactly disappeared.

In a level tone which would have his siblings looking over in alarm, he says. “I had worked that statement out with the entire communications department.”

“The entire communications department does what you tell them to do. It’s what you pay them for.”

“And what, exactly, do I pay you for?”

They are facing each other now, their bodies a bit too close for it. She is looking directly at him, voice sharp and clear as glass. “I was hired by the candidate, to help run the campaign that she wants. Your statement was just a polite walkback of her words.”

He has the sudden thought that the brown of her eyes could be warm, that her gaze probably is warm when she’s looking at her sister or the dog whose photo she has framed on her desk (a plump, panting little corgi wearing a bright blue bow tie, absurd), but he’s never seen her that way. He’s only ever gotten this, annoyance and disdain and perhaps disappointment.

Still, he responds, “Her words need to be walked back if she wants to someday be more than the candidate. In this constituency, colonial reparations aren’t a popular enough issue to increase turnout for those who weren’t already interested, and it’s exactly the sort of thing which will put off those who were on the fence. We’re trying to flip a seat by reminding people of what their current MP is doing wrong; we have to stay on message, not muddy things with topics too few understand. Sending out a statement moderating the comment is the right move.”

“But that statement isn’t what the candidate believes, and her future constituents should know what her actual position is - they likely aren’t as stupid as you seem to think. And besides that, she has the right stance in the first place.”

In the weeks since she arrived, he’s found that the things people said of her were true: she is smart, perhaps too smart for the good of either of them, and decisive, easily seeing what’s been done and what needs to be and acting on it, the exact sort of person you would want at your side as you plot a course forward. But he hadn’t realized that she was a believer.

There are fewer idealists in politics than one might think, or at least who have risen to her level. He always finds them a bit off-putting, and it startles him even more with her - he had thought he recognized in her a sharpness and pragmatism which reminded him of his own.

“Don’t do anything like this again,” he says, trying to temper his own abruptness even as he is somewhat unsettled by the conviction in her. “Or I’ll fire you, and I don’t care what the candidate says about it.”

“I think she would have quite a lot to say in that circumstance,” Kate tells him, but she turns back to her keyboard and doesn’t argue anymore.

At least until the next day, when they end up nearly nose to nose in his office as Anthony maintains that they can’t get anyone’s hopes up with a promise of immediate action on climate change, especially considering the priorities in the party platform and the likely makeup of the next parliament, and Kate practically shouts that they’re showing people where their convictions lie and that Dr. Danbury will fight for them if she gets the chance.

When Anthony dreams of her again that night, they are not talking about policy at all. But when he wakes up, edgy and aching as he is, he finds himself hoping one day to see her smile at him the way he did in his sleep; he wants to know if her eyes really are as warm as he imagined.

On Saturday, there’s such persistent nagging in the older sibling groupchat that Anthony finally gives in and agrees to leave the office for a night out. Forcing him into some allegedly relaxing activity is a time-honored tradition when they’re coming into the final stretch of a campaign; he’s certain the others have been discussing tactics in one of the numerous other chats that are always going on. (The last he’d glimpsed, the sibling group which didn’t include Gregory, Hyacinth, or himself - but did, irritatingly, include Simon - was named “Anthony’s Scary Forehead Vein.”)

“Please tell me that we aren’t going to paint ceramics again,” Anthony says as he walks, hands in his pockets, beside Benedict. Their group is too large to all move together on the sidewalk, which is a bit of a relief. “I don’t think I could put up with another night of Eloise reminding me that there are stencils if I need them.”

Benedict very narrowly and very obviously avoids laughing at him. Now that Anthony thinks about it, actually, his brother had spent that particular outing using a dozen colors to intricately decorate a mug, spending so long on it that they had nearly closed the place around him. Their mother drinks her tea from it frequently, however. “Thankfully there won’t be any pottery or painting tonight.”

“And it’s not—”

“Not a club,” Benedict assures him, then grins. “Can you imagine Simon trying to make certain no one came within a foot radius of Daph on the dance floor?”

Anthony shakes his head, looking ahead of them to where his sister and brother-in-law are walking together, not holding hands, but so close that they might as well be. He still feels a bit strange about the two of them together, especially after all the drama on the way, but he can see that they’re in love each other, even if he can’t really imagine why anyone would want to be, and they’re extremely obviously happy, so he’s trying to grow accustomed to it. He can also absolutely see Simon working himself into knots playing mosh pit bodyguard.

“So where are we going, then?” he asks, but before Benedict can answer, Eloise, broken away from her friend Penelope, tosses her arms over their shoulders and wriggles her face between them.

“You’ll just have to see,” she says, and Anthony doesn’t have to look at her to know that she is twitching her eyebrows at them. He probably could get it out of her if he tried, but he actually is finding himself feeling a little lighter being out with everyone, so he just waits and ten minutes later, they’re entering an already fairly crowded pub. Colin and Eloise go over to register them as a trivia team - or more likely to bicker over what name their team should have. As if realizing the same, Daphne squeezes Simon’s hand once and pushes over to join them.

(Her stomach is still flat, even for someone looking, but Anthony notices that she places a protective hand over it as she walks through the crush anyway.)

The rest of them go to claim a table and start putting together an order for drinks and appetizers. Anthony is leaning across, shouting a promise that if Penelope doesn’t finish her chili loaded potato wedges, they’ll certainly be taken care of, when someone behind him asks, “Excuse me, can we borrow this chair?”

“Sorry, there are more of us coming,” he says politely, turning to face the woman. She’s thirtyish and tall, but that’s all he takes in before he spots, over her shoulder, the rest of her group. They’re all chatting with each other, wearing matching T-shirts in a variety of bold colors which declare them the Quizzie Bennets, and in the center, her hair up in a ponytail and definite warmth in her eyes, is Kate. Edie stands beside her, picture perfect nose crinkled in a teasing way, but all Anthony can notice is that he’s never seen Kate in jeans like this, that the odd, bright purple of her shirt looks electric instead of ugly against the dark of her hair, and all he can think is that he never imagined her as relaxed as she is, weapons laid down.

She seems to detect his gaze then, and as she meets it he expects the weapons to be picked right back up. There’s certainly surprise, a guardedness to her eyes as they meet his, but then she narrows them in his direction, as if saying game on.

So that’s how she wants to play it, he thinks, then turns to the others and says, “No alcohol.”

Benedict blinks. “What do you mean by that?”

“In solidarity with Daphne,” Anthony offers.

“Daph does know that it’s pub trivia,” Simon says. “And she’s not—”

“Fine,” Anthony interrupts before the compliment train can get rolling. He sets his jaw. “I mean that we need to keep clear heads if we’re going to absolutely trounce everyone here.”

Penelope looks a bit alarmed by the vehemence in his tone and Simon quirks a brow, but the others are game enough - Bridgertons have always had a competitive streak, and apparently the rest of them actually chose this particular trivia night because it’s done aloud, infinite bounce style, instead of on paper.

“We play with live ammo around here,” Eloise declares gleefully once she’s returned and been updated on what she missed.

“Damn right we do,” Anthony mutters to himself, glad that he is seated with his back to Kate so he can resist the temptation to see how irritated she looks just now, or how face might be a little flushed and her ponytail loosened from the heat of everyone packed together inside…

“Who exactly do you keep looking for?” asks Colin, who’d plopped himself into the chair Kate’s teammate had asked about. He cranes obviously around, and Anthony turns firmly back to the table before his brother can follow his line of vision.

For all that they didn’t pick their team in order to be serious contenders, they do cover the bases fairly well. Anthony has politics and current events, obviously, along with history. Penelope plays backup there as well, and covers literature alongside Colin, who handily takes on geography too. (Anthony has always inwardly wondered how reasonable it was to build a career around wanderlust and Instagram and freelancing for travel magazines, but if it brings them victory tonight, he will never question again.) Benedict apparently took in more about nature than any of the rest of them who grew up in the Kentish countryside, and knows quite a bit more about art and art history than Anthony had expected. Daphne, unpredictably, knows a lot about sports - she claims that it’s what happens when you spend your life being rambled at as “another one of the boys” - and, more predictably, music.

Anthony hadn’t expected Simon’s skill with numbers to be particularly helpful, but now he’ll have to buy him a drink at some point, both for doubting and for pulling them out of a sticky situation involving Bernstein's constant. He wishes that Francesca wasn’t too young to have come out with them - there are several instances where they could have used her chiming in with quiet calm about anything related to economics or science, but they instead have to all give questionable contributions in that regard. They all chip in for pop culture, too, although Eloise is clearly the master - she actually yawns as she announces that of course the country where Monica’s boyfriend Pete Becker took her on their first date was Italy, and Anthony has never been more grateful that he lets everyone sponge off his Netflix login (although would it really kill them to not be using all the screens on the rare occasions he actually has the time and inclination to watch something?).

The trouble is that there are plenty of other teams who are clearly regulars, and they were put together in order to be serious contenders. The questions and answers are flying through the air, the quizmaster, a skinny older man with big hair shouting “Correct! For ten points,” more often than not, and most importantly, the Quizzie Bennets are availing themselves nicely. (He should have guessed as soon as he saw the matching T-shirts.)

Questions his team can’t answer correctly bounce to them next, and he can’t help but toss Kate an incredulous look after she not only answers that Angela Merkel was voted chancellor of November rather than October 2005, but also rattles off the margin for and against. Her eyes meet his as if she was expecting his glance, but she just shrugs before wrapping her lips around her straw and taking a dainty sip of her drink. He has to look away then.

Still, Team Quizerton (apparently the name that both Colin and Eloise had hated enough for Daphne to negotiate them to agreement) has done well enough that Anthony feels confident as they move into the final round.

“And what will the twist be tonight?” the excitable quizmaster asks, although he then just presses a button on his phone rather than spinning some kind of enormous wheel. His face lights up as he announces grandly, “Ah, the ladder!”

He quickly outlines the rules: each team will have five questions selected for them in ascending order of difficulty, with point values from ten to fifty. For each correct answer, they will receive the corresponding points and the option of requesting a related bonus question for half the initial question’s value. Wrong answers mean a point deduction, double for bonus questions, and the end of play for that team. You can also pass, choosing another team to answer and forfeiting further questions for yours but freezing your points where they stand.

It’s more like a game show than any trivia night that Anthony is familiar with, but he actually appreciates the strategy element; he can understand why this would be Kate’s preferred contest.

He considers giving a pep talk to the table, but all of them - except for Simon, who’s looking somewhere between vaguely amused and bored - are dialed in, ready to claim victory, so he settles back and readies himself for it too.

It happens in the final round. Anthony is just allowing himself to feel the slightest bit smug at having earned them another 75 points by not only correctly responding that Sri Lanka was the first country to have a female prime minister, but answering the bonus of her name (Sirimavo Bandaranaike) and year of election (1960) as well. The quizmaster nods, turns, and reads off the next question: “This famous playwright’s last words were reportedly ‘I knew it! I knew it! Born in a hotel room and, goddamn it, dying in a hotel room.’”

There’s a strange, deep silence, then a buzz of whispering among the Quizzie Bennets, and Anthony is struck by the realization that they don’t know the answer. He certainly doesn’t either, and a glance around at his group tells him that they would have been screwed had they gotten the question, but it doesn’t matter. Excitement licks up his throat, victory so close he can taste it…

And then Kate’s head comes up from the huddle, and her eyes meet his, and he knows exactly what she is going to do before she does it.

“Ten seconds!” says the quizmaster.

“Trust me,” Kate mouths to her teammates, and then says aloud, “We’d like to pass, and give the Know It Ales a chance to answer.”

Anthony’s mouth goes dry. Stupid team name aside, they’ve been confidently answering questions all night, and this time is no different. Their leader is nearly bored as he immediately says, “Eugene O’Neill.” And Anthony can barely hear the room around him over the blood rushing in his ears as they answer the follow-up too.

When the quizmaster declares the Know It Ales the champions for the evening, Kate slings her arms around her teammates and cheers as if he’s announced her name instead. The other Quizzie Bennets look puzzled, but when she stares defiantly at Anthony, chin raised, beaming, glowing not like she’s in the spotlight but like she’s the light itself, he somewhat suspects that she’s the winner indeed.

“Isn’t that—” Colin starts somewhere close to Anthony’s ear.

“No, it is not,” Anthony tells him firmly, and wrestles him off to pay their tab.

Later that night, after he’s somewhat successfully distracted himself with work and somewhat less successfully distracted himself with looking for something to watch (why isn’t everyone asleep, and even if they are up, could they really not leave him one available screen?) he finds himself sitting on the edge of his bed with his work phone in one hand and his personal one in the other. And even though he knows exactly how bad an idea it is, he very carefully references the campaign contact group and keys one number into a new text message in his personal phone.

Sorry that this didn’t seem to be your night. Best of luck to your team next time.

He shoves out a breath and stands as soon as he’s sent it, forces himself to start getting ready for bed; she’s probably asleep now, or she might read it as rude or sarcastic and choose not to respond, and the text is just going to sit there, awkward and interminable…

There are plenty of ways to be lucky, thanks very much, and I think we found one - although I look forward to reclaiming my rightful title someday soon. See you on Monday, Bridgerton.

Regardless of what he tells himself, he can’t quite get the stupid grin off his face as he shuts off the light. He’s under no illusions about who his dreams will feature tonight.

Monday night before the election, Anthony leaves the office past eleven. He rubs his eyes as he walks past dark cubicles and conference rooms - unsurprisingly, he’s the last one around - and decides that what he needs more than sleep is something to eat, and not whatever cup noodles or single egg he might come up with at home. No, he needs comfort food, something generous and hot and greasy as Benedict’s face the year he was thirteen (not that his at fifteen was much better).

His favorite hole in the wall is open until midnight, so he stumbles over there and buys the biggest order of chips he can, the enormous burger nearly an afterthought. The place is tiny and not the sort of spot that has ever even heard of ambiance, but he’s tired and the idea of waiting to get back to his flat and eating in its emptiness isn’t particularly appealing. He turns with his food in hand and finds Kate looking up at him, startled, from one of the three tables.

He could take one of the others, leave them to eat in awkward peace, or he could pretend he had always intended to have his food to go. Instead he comes over and asks, “Can I join you?”

Her capable hands moving just a note too slowly, as though giving him time to reconsider, she collects the documents from the opposite side of the table, tapping them into order as he waits patiently. She folds her fingers atop the neat stack in front of her once she’s finished, watching as he dives into his meal; he should probably be embarrassed about it, but he doesn’t really have the energy.

They talk about inconsequential things - how the weather forecast might cause trouble with voter turnout, the unfortunate office incident with Johnson and the speakerphone last week, mutual political acquaintances - and Anthony realizes that it’s the first time they’ve ever done this, just made small talk without disagreeing. Kate doesn’t lose her sharp tongue simply because they are in casual conversation, but it’s different when her remarks aren’t directed at him; hearing her pert analyses of other candidates and campaign staffers actually makes him laugh.

She’s left half a piece of cold fish and polished off more than a few of his chips (completely unthinkingly, he’s sure) when they’re informed that closing time’s come and they have to clear the table. It would be completely natural for them to part ways and see each other in the morning for another round of sparring, but he finds himself saying, “I think I might go get a drink,” and finds her answering, “I think I might join you.”

He regrets it just a bit when he’s balanced on the bar stool (he really is exhausted; this is the earliest he’s been out of the office in days) but then Kate raises her wineglass and says, “To the homestretch,” and smiles just a bit as he touches his glass to hers. The light falls cozy and dim around them and he can still see exactly how long and competent her fingers are, wrapped around the stem, the places where strands of hair have escaped their pins, trailing down to rest against her exposed throat.

Right, he thinks inanely to himself. Right, excellent, this was a good choice, and belts back his scotch before signaling for another.

“Those were your siblings?” she asks, taking a sip of her own drink. “At trivia the other night?”

“Some of them were...are…” He shakes his head, trying to straighten out his own meaning. “It was some of my siblings, the oldest four, and my brother-in-law, and my sister’s best friend.” Then, before he can stop himself, he adds, “I saw your sister was there as well.”

“Hmm,” she says, taking another sip of her cabernet, and he can see her spine stiffening, armor reasserting itself.

For the first time, he realizes that she could easily hate Edie, her younger sister - her younger half-sister, even - who is sweet and accomplished and more apparently pretty, the one people’s eyes turn to when the Sheffield girls are around, but what Kate displays is no begrudging love.

It would probably be better for him to change the topic, get them back on safer ground, but though he might be smart, he’s not necessarily wise, so he tosses back his second scotch and asks, “Why did you warn me off her the first time? You didn’t even know me.”

“Yes, but I knew of you,” she says. As always, she faces the comment head on, doesn’t even pretend not to remember exactly what he’s talking about. “I was starting in the industry, I needed to have an ear to the ground and at least a general sense of the players, and I didn’t like the sense I got about you. It didn't make me think you were the kind of person to trust with my sister.”

“I’ve never—I would never—I don’t think I’ve—” he says, stumbling, slightly stricken. He knows that there are whisper networks about the people - the men - in their field, knows exactly who some of the whispers are about and has done his best to be the type of person who helps make those whispers into shouts. It would kill him a bit to find out that he’s done something that would make someone feel the need to speak about him that way.

“Not necessarily on a personal level,” she says, suddenly gentle, then circles her finger around the rim of her glass and amends, “Well, not that way. People actually said you were very smart and a good employer, but when I learned more about your history, the jobs you’d worked on in the past, it didn’t feel like there was any principle to your choices. As if you were just willing to sell yourself to whoever asked, or at least whoever looked good on a resume. Edwina deserves more than that.”

She is looking at him extremely frankly, as if she hasn’t just shrugged away the idea of the career he’s built, but with the way she says her sister’s name, the softness of it, how she somehow makes the full, old-fashioned version more personal than the nickname - he understands that sort of devotion. Hearing it from her steals the irritation beginning to build even as she continues. “I could never even entirely figure out why you went into politics rather than something else. You’re reasonably intelligent, you could have done any number of things if you weren’t particularly invested in the issues.”

Somehow, instead of the protest he was expecting, that he was intending, what comes out is simply, “It’s the family business.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The Bridgerton Group. My father started it.” By her expression, she doesn’t think that two generations exactly makes a family legacy, but for once she holds her tongue, and his, loose with drink and exhaustion, can’t hold back.

“I grew up playing under the table at a dozen campaign offices across London and having poster mock-ups as my placemats. When I was a bit older, I was allowed to volunteer, and I loved seeing him there, in his element, listening to proposals and then telling everyone, ‘Well, here’s what we’re going to do.’” He swallows. “He—My father died, just after my first year at university, and I wasn’t old or experienced enough to take his place. The staff went off to work for other people, and all I could think about was how disappointed he would have been, to see this thing he’d built, this thing he loved, fall apart so easily. The entire time until I graduated, while I was getting experience with other consulting firms and working on other campaigns, I was just waiting until I could do justice to what he left behind for me.

“He nearly called it ABC Consulting, but my mother told him that it sounded too juvenile. My parents had me and my brothers fairly young - he was still a student when Benedict and I were born - and he wanted to name it after us.”

He realizes as soon as he’s said it that he’s only ever admitted that once before, to Simon on a similarly drunken night during their final year at school, forgetting the way that Simon and his father were, or weren’t, with each other; his friend’s face had closed up as soon as the words had left Anthony’s mouth, and they’d never talked about it again. But Kate’s face is open, listening, more than he thinks he’s ever seen from her, in such a way that he thinks he could reveal anything to her.

He could tell her about the trouble he and his brothers got up to as children, or how he likes watching baking shows to relax even though he’s not worth a damn in the kitchen, or that he can’t stop himself from adding another mile to his morning run each time he finds a gray hair. He could start talking about how complicated his feelings have grown regarding the man who was once his best friend, or about the way his entire chest had burned as his mother placed a squalling Hyacinth into his nineteen-year-old hands before closing her eyes and about how he never wants either of them to know that he’d tried to force himself not to tremble and had trembled anyway. But this isn’t the time for any of that, so he continues.

“I wanted to put it back together for him. There were candidates I took on in the early days who were stepping stones, necessary to building a reputation but who I wouldn’t work with again now that I have the reputation and the choices that come with it. And I have my own opinions on the issues - some of which might match yours more closely than you’d expect - but I’m there to make sure that the candidates who hire me succeed in getting where they want to be. I’m good at that, and I’m committed to it, and I’ve never run a campaign I wasn’t proud of. Sometimes, though, being around you, I wonder if you're going to eventually talk me into a different philosophy.”

His glass is full again though he isn’t sure when that happened, and a group of middle-aged men with ties undone and suitcases beneath their eyes fumbles past the bar behind them toward a booth, but the only thing he is paying attention to is Kate’s considering gaze on him as she absently swirls the wine remaining in her glass.

“I have the feeling,” she finally says, “that when you say a different philosophy, you consider it a more naïve one. And I’m not certain that our opinions on the issues would really match up considering that you grew up with family money.” Her voice is not arch or insulting, though, and he would certainly know.

“We were...comfortable,” he admits. She raises a waspish eyebrow in response.

“No one who’s actually middle class would ever put it like that,” she informs him. “You most definitely have a trust fund.” But she actually smiles at him, and for once he knows what it’s like to have Kate Sheffield look at him with warmth in her eyes.

He’d quite like to have that again.

“Do you think—?”

“That we should dignify the remarks with a response? No, I absolutely do not.”

Anthony glares down at the article he has pulled up on his phone, then looks over at Kate, striding down the hall beside him, eating slices of peach out of a reusable container. For a moment he’s distracted from the rumormongering on behalf of one of their opposing campaigns; he thinks of Kate’s hands carefully working the knife around the fruit, of the way her tongue flicks over to catch the juice when she takes a bite…

“I could reach out,” he says, too loudly, before he walks into a wall. “I know the head of the campaign over there, I can remind him about the spirit of fair play and all that, especially this close to the finish line.”

She looks over at him incredulously, snapping the top onto her empty Tupperware. “I don’t care if you were the best man at his wedding, he’ll laugh you off the phone. I’ve had at least three listicles of our candidate’s best insults toward her opponents forwarded to me just this morning.”

“I had the feeling that wouldn’t work.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. Just three days left, for better or worse. “Fine, so we say nothing and hope that it passes out of the media cycle quickly and doesn’t do too much damage to the absentee votes.”

“As I said from the beginning.”

“You are far too determined never to let me have the last word,” he says, just the slightest bit amused, as they circle around the desks of the main office, edging their way over to hers.

She snags the toe of her ballet flat on a computer charger trailing across the floor, stumbles, but he catches her hand just in time and sets her upright again. She continues walking as if it hadn’t even happened, raising her voice enough to be heard over the chatter and buzz of phone calls as she teases, “What would be the fun in that?”

Aghast, he says, “We aren’t here to have fun, Sheffield.”

“Oh, did you actually want to win?” She tosses the empty container onto her desk as she drops into her chair, then looks up at him, swiveling slightly from side to side and shaking her head. “You really are a cliché.”

“Yeah, well, here’s another one: get to work.”

“I’m not sure that’s technically a cliché, but I suppose I could do that,” she says, with a shrug and a grin, turning toward her computer. He watches her for another few seconds, and then takes himself off to his office before he becomes too much of a cliché himself.

Despite the phone call he had earlier with his mother promising her that he wouldn’t, he falls asleep on his desk the night before the election, startling himself awake hours later.

“Too bloody old for this,” he mutters to himself, grimacing as seemingly every joint and muscle in his body quite firmly announces itself when he stands. Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he gathers his things and makes his way through the darkened office.

Except it isn’t as dark as he’d expected. He scans the desks to try to figure out who left their lamp on, and finds Kate with her head resting on her arms, essentially imitating him from ten minutes prior.

Briefly, he stands there, not entirely sure what to do, but then he walks over, hand hovering by her shoulder before he gives her a light shake.

“Kate,” he says softly, crouching so he’s closer to her level. Her loose ponytail drapes over the burgundy of her blouse, quite close to his hand. He had not realized that he would recognize the scent of her, clean and straightforward with a subtly delicate edge; he should have known - he’s been smelling it in his dreams for weeks. He swallows and shakes her once more. “Kate, you should go home.”

“That was meant to be my line,” she says, far more lucidly than he would have expected. He shifts back as she stirs and sits up, massaging her fingers over her eyes. “I had the feeling that you weren’t going to leave at a sensible time, so I was planning on reminding you before I went home, only apparently I can’t leave at a sensible time either.”

“No, I suspect that sensible times to leave the office don’t involve the letters A or M,” he agrees. “Not that I would know anything about that.”

As she readies herself to leave, he tries to remember that the way she stretches out her back or takes down her hair, how she swings her bag over her shoulder, the quick, assessing way her eyes cover the room to make certain everything is in its place: all of that should be unremarkable. But there’s a moment, just the tiniest sliver of time, when she’s flicked off her desk lamp and they begin to walk out together in the glow of the emergency exit signs and the dim light of windows from other office buildings - she glances over at him, his hair rumpled, tie and briefcase dangling from one hand, and he thinks that he sees her swallow in a way that he recognizes all too well.

And then the moment is gone, and they’re out on the sidewalk, about to go their separate ways, the car he’d called for her already waiting.

“Big day tomorrow,” he says over the top of the door, holding it open as she climbs in. “Are you ready for it?”

“I’m always ready.”

He laughs, soft as the night around them. “Yes, I suppose you are. Good night, then.”

She looks at him one last time in the yellow beam of the streetlight, still a bit sleepy-eyed but no less aware for it. “Good night, Bridgerton,” she tells him, and drives away, and he can’t help but wonder about what if she hadn’t, what if he’d said something or she had made a choice, what if she didn’t drive away from him again.

The day of the election is always the worst for him - all the work behind him, nothing really to be done but let the people vote. He’s in the office earlier than usual anyway, early enough that he isn't certain it was worthwhile going home, but this, at least, he can control. He manages to keep himself busy throughout the day, but it’s all just a countdown to that night.

Somehow, despite - or perhaps because of - the sleeplessness and planning and stress, it isn’t one those contests that drag on. Dr. Danbury is brought on stage at about a quarter to one alongside the other candidates; the results, when the returning officer announces them, are decisive.

She’d brushed away his offers to help or choose a staffer or hire someone to work on her speech with her; instead she’s written it herself, and although brief, it’s as firm and irreverent as she is. He suspects that no one will ever pack as much sarcasm into referring to certain colleagues as “the right honorable.”

He makes some calls and receives congratulations from his mother and siblings, who have long since ceased to find these sorts of things interesting enough to attend but who make certain to keep up from home. As Dr. Danbury frees from handshaking and small talking, he makes his way over to her.

“Congratulations, ma’am.” He holds out his hand, which she eyes with a lifted brow.

“Anthony Bridgerton, I’ve known you since you were charming people from your mother’s arms, and considering that - not to mention all we’ve been through together over these last months - I think you can stand to give me more than just a handshake.”

He hugs her, which feels odd and tells him more than anything that the campaign is over. When he pulls away from her, she pats his cheek. “Now, go celebrate. You’ve earned it. I’m certainly going to.” And she winks.

The campaign staff is making plans for drinks and dancing and even just going home to raise a glass with loved ones. He wades into the group, patting backs and shaking hands, speaking briefly to some of them, smiling all the while.

And then he sees Kate, toward the edge of the crowd, chatting with one of the young guys from finance. Edwina is beside them, likely not as inured to the excitement of the night as the Bridgertons.

Kate, the taller of the two, spots him, leaning over to say something to her sister before weaving her way over. He tips his head toward a quieter little hallway, and they go over together, leaning against parallel walls.

“Congratulations,” they say to each other at the same time, and then immediately after, “I only wanted to say—”

He nods at her to go first. It’s only polite. But there’s an unusual sort of trepidation about her face, a pause that he doesn’t expect, that makes him wonder if she wishes that he’d taken the initiative. Still, she’s Kate, so she takes a breath and comes out with, “Edwina is here tonight, and if you still wanted—Clearly I misjudged you, and so if you were still interested in her, I wouldn’t say anything.”

“Oh,” he says, and that is all he can manage for the moment, standing frozen and watching Kate force her shoulders back and her gaze to his.

He does not know precisely how to communicate the depths to which he has realized that he does not want to date Edie Sheffield, that he never wanted to date her, that his interest lies entirely elsewhere. What he says instead is, “I had wanted to ask you to stay on with the Group. Permanently. You’re very, very good at what you do, and I think that...You know, your perspective and your clarity during the campaign was extremely helpful, extremely valuable, to me.”

He can picture it plainly, has been picturing it already: Kate taking him to task about every little issue, forcing him to remember the things outside of the campaign itself, the bigger things. Kate, with her hair swept up and her eyes bright and furious, challenging him to be the best version of himself, or at least to want to try.

But then she looks up at him and says, “I’ve actually had another job offer recently. The candidate—I’m sorry, the MP-elect wants me to be her new chief of staff, and I was already inclined to accept.”

“You’re going to be incredible at that,” he says immediately, blank shock quickly giving way to sincerity then laughter. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner. Maybe I just didn’t think that Parliament was ready for it.”

“That’s probably for the best, though. Element of surprise and all.”

Her voice doesn’t trail away but as his laughter does, so does her smile, her animation; the air seems to fall thin and still. He doesn’t know that there’s ever been a beat of awkwardness between them like this, not even when they have been at their most prickly with each other, but it’s there now, in her eyes as she looks across at him, in his gut as he wonders what to say next.

“I’m glad you got another job offer,” is what comes out, and there is her unamused, interrogative eyebrow, hovering upward.

“So you weren’t serious with yours?”

“No, of course I was, it’s only that...Well, I’ve been your boss up until now, regardless of how much you might believe it should be the other way around.” That even gets him a slight returning smile, enough for him to ignore the dryness in his mouth and the franticness of his chest to say, “And if you had taken the job with me, I would have continued to be your boss. Which would have made it rather unacceptable for me to ask you out.”

In the space of that breath, with the silence heavy between them even as they stand right beside a crowded room, even as Dr. Danbury’s voice crows easily above the others, still practiced from projecting through the university lecture hall, he wonders if she is going to leave him like this, cards on the table, only the fall below him.

“Well,” she finally says, slow as anything. She is looking up at him, considering and careful, but he knows that her mind must be working at triple its already remarkable speed. “If I’m going to be around the city, and there’s no conflict of interest…”

He doesn’t entirely like the way it is turning into something neat and logical in front of him when he’s never felt anything close to that around her. He doesn’t like the way she looks tentative, pushing back against the edge of something more than caution - fear, perhaps, as if this might be a trick, as if the idea of allowing herself to crack open is unbearably terrifying, and it looks wrong on her face, so bold and familiar, he never wants to see that expression there again. He reaches out across the space, and when she reaches back, he takes her hand.

“Kate,” he says. “You are the most infuriating person I’ve ever known and possibly the smartest, you are wildly, overly principled and somehow make me want to be the same, you never let me have a moment’s peace, I can’t stop thinking about you, and I’d like to go on a date with you.”

“Well, that does sum things up nicely, Anthony,” she tells him, and despite herself, he can see a little snatch of a smile just there, the warmth growing in her eyes as they look right into him, the fear working its way from her. Still, she tries for nonchalance as she says, “My contract with the campaign doesn’t end until Friday. We can do Saturday night, if you’re up for it.”

He’s up for it. He takes her out Saturday night for dinner, hides a smile as she pokes fun at his shoes, gets into an argument with her about education funding, and goes to bed more distracted by a half hour of pressing her against her front door (and then onto her sofa for another twenty minutes) than he has any right to be considering he isn’t fourteen. He spends Sunday night with her too, and on Monday they go to see a movie they both hate but can’t stop talking about, and he is fairly certain he is going to spend essentially every night with her for the rest of his life.

It isn’t peaceful - and only likely to get busier once they both really get back to work - and her dog is a nuisance and Colin tries to take credit for the whole thing, and they’re so happy that neither of them cares.

[ntshastark]

ok, I’ve finished watching it so here it goes:

Bridgerton final impressions

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

Daphne: I love her!!!!!!!!! I loved her on the book and I loved her on the show. My only complain is..... The Scene........ The way they changed it up made it so they could’ve easily swapped The Scene for a confrontation. I guess they didn’t want Simon to be the only asshole of the two but then they never addressed how Daphne was wrong too??? They just use the Whistledown voice-over to basically say “oh she’s desperate so it’s understandable” and then kinda shift all the blame onto Violet - and, don’t get me wrong, her sex talk is shit and she should know it, but what Daphne did was already after Rose really explained her how sex really works, so ignorance isn’t really an excuse....

Simon: I love him!!!!!!!!! I loved him on the book and I loved him on the show. My only complain is how they handled his daddy issues arc’s resolution. Like, Daphne just tells him he doesn’t need to be perfect to be loved and! Just like that! He is cured! Childhood trauma? I don’t know her! They don’t even address the real problem, which is Simon going from living to please his father to living to spite his (dead) father, and the book just handled it SO WELL, I really don’t understand why they changed it in the show.

I hope Simon and Daphne don’t get brushed off to the side now that their book’s story is over. Simon and Anthony’s friendship still needs a little patching up; there’s the Will and Alice storyline that, if they choose to continue, Simon will likely be involved in; and Daphne is pregnant during Anthony’s book, so they can do something about that too, and maybe about her helping out Eloise during her first season... I know they won’t be the focus of the story ever again, but I just hope they keep showing up like ABC and E did on this season, and aren’t just mentioned to be doing their own thing off-screen like Francesca was.

Anthony: .......................................................Sigh. I don’t know who that incompetent, irresponsible, lovesick idiot is, but it’s sure as hell not Anthony. They literally took everything about his character, cut into pieces, made a nonsensical collage and called it characterisation. The real Anthony has an incredibly strong sense of duty and responsibility to both his title and his family, because he feels he has to do it as good as his father would - which, in his head, is perfection. He doesn’t skip and/or arrives late to important events because he’s fooling around with his mistress, and he wouldn’t just wave away his responsibilities to his brothers - especially because they are also his responsibility. The real Anthony cares deeply about the happiness of his siblings, and does everything to secure them the Happily Ever After he himself doesn’t believe he’ll ever have. He would never force one of them to marry someone they clearly despise, especially with no serious reason. The real Anthony was a rake who jumped from bed to bed without letting himself create real attachments, because he deeply believes he’s going to die young and can’t bring himself to make someone go through the same pain his mother did when his father died. He simply wouldn’t remain seeing a woman if he thought he was developing feelings for her - and that only changed when he was forced to marry Kate - and he definitely wouldn’t ask someone to run away with him when he’s finally free of society, jesus fucking christ what the hell even was that?????? And so they - knowing he was going to be next season’s protagonist, mind you  - took all of the characteristics Anthony developed in the 10 years since his father’s death, largely because of Edmond - both in how he raised him and in how his death traumatised him - and said “hey, what if we make all of this happen in like 3 months, and be all about that opera singer he kissed once in the book!”

Violet: I love her, but I feel like they sacrificed a lot of Anthony’s character for her sake......... The Nigel thing is a great example of that: The way she solved it was amazing, but for that to happen they had to make Anthony cause the problem in the first place, which was so ooc it physically hurt. And the way she’s constantly reminding him of how much he sucks as a Viscount, and even straight up saying that his father would’ve been much better was icky tbh

Eloise: Loved how they explored her relationships with Daphne and Benedict - and the queen thing was funny - but that’s about it. She’s so incredibly entitled holy fuck. Combine the fresh-faced feminist who just learned the buzzwords and now thinks sexism is the single biggest plague to ever walk this earth with the spoiled rich girl who wants the entire world to bend to her whims and refuses to do anything she doesn’t want, and that’s how you get show!Eloise. But, tbh, I don’t really mind. She’s a teenager, that’s just how teenagers are. We didn’t really see that much of her before the time jump in the books, she has a long way to go until her story takes center place, and I’m perfectly ok with us watching how she becomes the woman we see in TSPWL. Basically, not that big of a fan of her characterisation, but she is in a spot where she can spend some time turning into the woman from her book - unlike Anthony :)). My big issue is actually how her going from vehemently anti-marriage as a teenager to happily married and with a bunch of kids as an adult is going to feed such a tired trope...

Penelope: I love her, obviously, but oh boy is she fucked. I agree very much with this post re: what she did to Marina. I guess, because LW was initially just a writing device to allow for exposition, the show is gonna go WAY deeper into how the things that happen to Penelope (and her being a teenager) affect what she writes, and into the consequences of doing what she’s doing, but honestly? They might have overplayed it...... I really don’t see how in the fuck they’re gonna make the ending of RMB work in the show’s universe - and I already thought the books glossed over the consequences way too much. So, uh. Good luck I guess.

(Also, I wonder what they’re gonna do about that heir cliffhanger. I just assumed Penelope was gonna do what she does in the books and find a way to give part of the Whistledown money to her mother. Gotta admit it never occurred to me that, with all the Featherington children being women and their father being dead, the title and what comes with it technically belonged to a uncle or cousin or something)

Marina: I fucking hate them for making me get attached to her knowing what’s gonna happen. This poor girl, jesus christ. And, ok, a lot of times she seemed rude and ungrateful but 1. Her situation was fucking terrifying and 2. She was suddenly thrown into this world of pampered, superficial, and naive girls, and that can test anyone’s patience. Also, yeah, the whole manipulating Colin thing was not cool, but, again, it was either that, an elderly likely-abusive husband, or a life of shame on the margins of society, so uhhh.

(Also, that scene when she said she would love for her, Penelope and Eloise to be sisters........ And I thought Eloise becoming Oliver and Amanda’s mother couldn’t hit me any harder......... Imagine an AU where George survived and he and Marina get married and Eloise marries Philip and Penelope marries Colin and they’re all sisters-in-law to each other and I cry my eyes out)

Colin: Gotta be honest with ya, chief... I don’t think he passes the sexy lamp test. Missed his and Daphne’s special relationship, missed his love of food, missed his sense of humour... At least he and Penelope were cute. I’m actually already shipping them more in the show than in the books.

Benedict: I think they’re trying to mirror him being in a relationship with a woman of no status (now Genevieve, then Sophie) with being gay and hmm. Really not sure about it. He does seem bicurious to me but I think they’re hesitant to give him an arc focused on exploring his sexuality when we know his love story is gonna be with a woman (but then again, they weren’t afraid of giving Anthony an arc about having a relationship with a woman of no status when we know his love story is gonna be with a perfectly respectable one, so *shrugs*). Once again, very glad they decided to make him and Eloise so close from the get-go. It’s going to make that scene on TSPWL where Benophie’s son gets sick so much more meaningful and painful, I can’t wait.

Siena and Genevieve: They’re both amazing women with an incredible friendship. Benedict and Genevieve have the relationship I was hoping Anthony and Siena would have, from the trailers.

Francesca: Glorified cameo. Disappointing. I know she doesn’t show up much in the books other than her own, but that should just have been seen as an opportunity to do whatever they wanted with her! Not make her disappear for 6/8 episodes! Hope they show more of her on the next season.

Gregory and Hyacinth: They’re baby. The scene where Gregory makes both Anthony and Simon fall on the water should’ve been there. Loved Hyacinth acting like she’s Simon’s BFF. Loved that they cut Hyacinth’s “wait for me” scene bc it reminded me too much of my annoying little cousin and made me not like her for the longest time.

Lady Danbury: 10/10. Please hit me with your cane. Am currently entertaining the idea of having her and Violet get together.

Barry B. Benson: A cold-blooded murderer

Overall: This didn’t fit into any character, but oh god........... the lack of chemises............ But  I loved the show, even if some things annoyed me,  and I can’t wait for season 2 AND MY GIRL KATE!!!!!!!!!!!!

[ellasfm]

» • * — ( elle fanning , cis female , she/her ) . i think i hear wait a minute by willow coming from apartment 2611. doesn’t eloise miller live there ?? i heard they are a twenty-two year old author from wayzata, mn , but they’ve been living in the apartments for two months . they come across a bit - anxious and - pessimistic , but they also seem like they could be + intuitive and + patient . whenever i see them , i think of a silver heart-shaped locket, stacks and stacks of books, small acts of rebellion. oh , and don’t forget to follow them on instagram at eloise.b.morris ! ooc . ally, 22, est, she/her .

hello y’all, back with my impulsively picked up second muse ! she’s actually an older muse i revamped to be a little less sad and i think i nailed it !!! details under the cut, like this post for me to hyu for plots !!! 

full statistics | full biography | pinterest | wanted connections 

tw panic attacks, psychological abuse, eating disorders, 

statistics.

full name. eloise bethany morris. nickname(s). ella. occupation. author.  age. twenty-two. date of birth. september 2nd, 1997. nationality. american. ethnicity. white | scottish, english, french.  orientation. bisexual/sapphic, with a preference for women.  gender & pronouns. cis female; she/her/hers. religion. agnostic.

height. 5’9”. weight. 125 lbs. eye color. green. hair color + style. flaxen blonde, relatively thin, usually up in a bun, braids, or pleats.  dominant hand. right-handed. distinguishing features. deep-set eyes, willowy frame, pale skin. 

biography. 

ella’s upbringing was super... lonely, honestly. both of her sisters were basically adults by the time she was born, and never really interacted with her since they didn’t like her father’s second wife, ella’s mother. and with good reason. 

if you thought zar’s mom was bad, get a load of heather morris. intent on living through her only daughter, ella was brought up to be a perfect little lady. a dancer, a star student, one of the most popular girls in her class. she was the first two things, but was never the third. she reeked of insecurity, and as a result was bullied throughout most of school. 

even worse, her mom would force her to go to events where her bullies were, because those were the girls heather thought ella ought to be friends with. needless to say, they didn’t go very well. the only things her mother ever gave her were anxiety, deep-seated self-loathing, and an eating disorder she only overcame about two years ago. 

ella’s one and only escape was books, she always had one on her person from the time she was five. for a long time, the closest things she had to friends were her favorite characters: matilda wormwood, hermione granger, and liesel meminger, among others. as a child, she dreamed of writing books like that, to help other little girls just like these authors helped her. 

ella has always been a massive romantic, falling in love with every friendly face. and everyone she’s ever loved wormed their way into her heart, and to get it out, she decided to write. about the what-ifs and the maybe-so’s. 

despite taking ballet lessons her entire school career, as per her mother’s request, she didn’t get into the american ballet company as her mother wished. her mom honestly wasn’t even that proud when she got a perfect sat score on her first try, nor when she got into harvard. 

if she wasn’t going to be a dancer, she was going to be a lawyer, and her mother pushed her to get perfect grades in school. she hoped she would flourish at university, but she... kinda fell apart. we’re talking daily panic attacks, a crippling caffeine addiction, and her anorexia getting so bad she ended up in the fucking hospital her freshman year. despite that, she never missed a single deadline, functioning like a machine. and that was all that was important to her mother. 

her sophomore year, though, she took a creative writing class, and when the ta read some of her work, she told her that she had a lot of potential and if she should continue down that road, the ta would like to be her advisor. that little bit of encouragement was all it took to reignite her dream of being an author. 

writing became her therapy again, along with, thankfully, actual therapy. sure, school still made her anxious wreck, but ella was doing better. bit by bit, step by step. the summer before senior year, her advisor told her that she sent ella’s latest transcript to a friend of hers in publishing, and that she wanted to talk. she wanted to hold off for now, unsure what to do, until she got her lsat results back over thanksgiving break. she’d failed. 

it was then, with her mother berating her non-stop as per usual, that ella decided she was going to publish. she walked out of the house with her mother still yelling, feeling freer than she ever had. 

the day after her commencement, ella moved into a shitty apartment in boston and got to work with the publisher to get the book finished as quickly as possible. thanks to her advisor, it required minimal editing, and they had the first print sent to ella by the end of october. 

on november 15th, the ipswich girls by eloise b. morris was officially for sale nationwide, and by its second week, it was a new york time’s bestseller. the last few months have been a world wind for ella, of book signings and award ceremonies and realizing with every young fan of hers that she’d achieved her dream. 

now, she’s moved into new york city, a dream come true, and shortly after, she realized her publisher expected her to write a second book. she’s... still pretty paralyzed about that, trying to come up with something to top the ipswich girls, but... she’s trying. kinda. maybe. mostly panicking. 

tl;dr: girl with strict mother finds freedom in books, becomes an author, writes a bestseller out of college, now is expected to repeat that success lmao fun.

personality. 

lets get the zodiac out of the way: virgo sun, pisces moon, aquarius rising. 

she’s... still very much a Good Girl, and she wants to change that, she wants to be her own person. 

like in january she got a tattoo in feminine script on her wrist that said ‘i belong deeply to myself’ and the entire time she felt like a Bad Girl okay????? and she just started smoking weed and that also makes her feel like a Bad Girl 

still pretty anxious, but she’s getting better. she’s on medication, now, and usually does something impulsive whenever she feels bad. or she writes. it’s fifty-fifty. 

very organized, almost to the point of being anal. 

very weird, abstract, neo-dadaist sense of humor. like stonks makes her wheeze.

she’s basically a big fuckin nerd okay??????????? 

usually very chill and relaxed, doesn’t get riled up too easily. it’s hard to tell when she’s having a panic attack because she just looks a little more zoned out than usual.  

cannot fucking flirt like at all. 

Big Virgin. 

her guilty pleasure is watching compilations of fox news pundits railing on and on about how the ipswich girls was written to promote witchcraft and the lesbian agenda. 

(also if you’re curious i put a summary of the ipswich girls here, even though its only bits and pieces but like if you’re curious. it’s basically the craft with fifteen-year-old girls, and also gayer. tw for suicide mention, brain damage and injuries. ) 

wanted connections. 

fast friend. someone who she got along with immediately upon coming to new york. 

childhood pen pal. i just think it’d be cute. 

crush. ella flirts by gazing tenderly across the room. 

philophobe. ella loves love, and this person doesn’t. for better or for worse, she’ll try to convince them otherwise. 

bad influence. and she is very willing to be influenced. 

wing(wo)man. she’s so bad at flirting please. somebody. anybody. 

deja vu. a negative connection; someone ella can’t get comfy around bc they remind her of her childhood bully. 

former dance rivals. ella used to do the competition circuit in ballet. she wasn’t particularly competitive, but her mom certainly was. probably a real dance moms situation. 

[echobcrn]

WOAH BROSKI ! So, I hit a mini milestone a little while ago but we all know how I am with doing things on time ( wut? katie? do shit in a reasonable amount of time? bruh ). Anyway. I thought it would be a nice idea to make a cute, lil�� tiny ‘follow forever’ to express how much this lazy bish appreciates and loves all of the people that put up with her very unimportant ooc posts and very slow replies.

THE PLASTICS ! ( aka. the main squad that puts up with me on the daily )

@mistakenxidentityx  & @abadxname

❝ listen. We have about three-hundred ships together ( reality; there’s only twelve but I’m just preparing because we’re always talking about adding more ). Basis, we both suck at limiting our number of threads together and we always say we’re going to finish the twenty-something we have before starting anything else and then — BAM — these magical threads just appear? Out of nowhere? It’s far from a bad thing considering I suppose I love ya’, sometimes, when you’re not being an evil angst genius. Though I suppose I like you to some extent during that too. Your muses are filled with glitter and gold, except Kat, she’s a nut but we love her anyway. Bread thinks you need to make her cakes in cups or she’ll break your window but that’s normal. This is getting long and really, I’m just rambling at this point ( ha, rambling Alas ). Anyway, to sum it up, you’re one amazing Turtle and you’re stuck with me just as much as Ella is stuck with the Big Blonde Teddy Bear. ❞

@thefamilyblack

❝ Hello, yes, hi, I love ya’. You’re fabulous and my bbys love your bbys and they’re all amazing together. Except Blaise and Melody because she’s going to strange my poor boy in his sleep one of these days if he doesn’t take the foot out of his mouth. Which will probably never happen SO, yeah. I love all of our pairs? They’re all beyond amazing from Astrid & Priya picking flowers for each other to Kai & Melody getting all cute-ly domestic. Even Xander & Priya are pretty fab but that’s to be expected if she’s part of the pairing. So, all in all, you’re wonderful and fab-tas-tic! ❞

@manymusescherry

❝ Uhm, where to start? We have three pairs so far and two of them are new yet I already love them. Our threads are always interesting, whether it involve Eloise throwing sass swords at Noah or them doing cute little lunches together. You’re super sweet and beyond kind and I could probably go on forever but I’m trying to eat breakfast while doing this too, so, I’m going to end it off with a — you’re a fab star. ❞

THE GOLDEN GEESE ! ( aka. you might not put up with me daily, but I appreciate you and our threads )

@thcblackrosc

❝ So, you might not deal with me on a daily basis but I’m pretty sure I send you memes and tag you in trash every single day, so, really, you kind of do. Uhm, I love our babes? Even though Blaise is obviously trying to give poor Lia a heartattack while he low-key plans the murder of any boys that look at her for more than two seconds. And Devin is busy very slowly moving into Matthew’s place without them actually knowing it, but it’s gonna’ happen, they don’t get a say in the matter. lmfao. Anyway, I think you’re a super fabulous writer and I love all of your lil’ lovely muses and they obviously all deserve the world. ❞

@herethereismagic

❝ Hellooooo. We haven’t been writing together long and I take years to get my replies back to you but you can’t rush the perfection of a relationship that involves eating subs in a bubble bath, okay? Or a very unusual friendship-relationship-thingy involving my sun Hunter because his head might explode from the pressure of it all. ANYWAY, I say, yet again in another description, you’re fabulous? I love your writing and your muses are adorable ( cough celeste cough ) and they’re very badass ( doesn’t cough because it’s very obvious I mean Mave ). ❞

AMAZING BLOGS YOU SHOULD CHECK OUT ! ( aka. the first title that’s literal )

Because I follow some fab-tastic people and there are a few I think people should check out on top of the babes I have already talked about.

@unravxl / @killshct / @littlemissredriding / @dirtyxpassions / @nottobecrossed / @mysatiisfaction / @eightholyterrors

[bruisedconscience]

my tumblr year in review

I posted 2,495 times in 2021

1360 posts created (55%)

1135 posts reblogged (45%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.8 posts.

I added 2,733 tags in 2021

#ooc - 1241 posts

#queued - 237 posts

#[ don’t reblog from me; thanks! ] - 225 posts

#[ don't reblog from me; thanks! ] - 203 posts

#work posting - 177 posts

#mobile - 156 posts

#thread: barry - 148 posts

#n.sfw - 133 posts

#study: barry - 126 posts

#[ sorry i’m liveblogging fx wwdits ] - 87 posts

Longest Tag: 132 characters

#[ i think my friend realized after scrolling thru ao3 that there’s a brad pitt version and she went oh. shit. u meant that one huh ]

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

@xgoldxnhour => Ellie, modern verse

Being outside of Clockworks was...bizarre. David was still on a strict medication regime, but they’d let him leave the facility with the promise that they’d be seeing him once a month, sometimes a few times a month if it turned out like he needed it.

But he was out.

David had learned to respond to the voices in his head internally, without using his mouth, and that made it a little easier to blend in with regular people.

Coffee. David and about 6 other voices wanted Coffee. This, he could do.

He waited until it was his turn at the counter before walking up. The lady—he shouldn’t presume. The person behind the counter had a name tag that read Eloise.

“Hi Eloise,” he said softly. “I’m David. Um...do you have anything with chocolate in it, mayhaps? And-and coffee? At the same time?”

38 notes • Posted 2021-05-06 18:59:11 GMT

#4

Barry "I am actively planning a murder" Berkman

time taken: ~1.5 hrs (click for better quality, like usual)

45 notes • Posted 2021-07-09 06:21:45 GMT

#3

Barry & Maladaptive Daydreaming:

Barry developed maladaptive daydreaming pretty early on after getting back to the states. We see his daydreams a few times throughout the show as a device for Barry’s desires for normalcy and a ‘typical American life,’ but I imagine they extend pretty far beyond what we see in canon.

Barry will have daydreams at inopportune times, like—briefly—while driving or while going about banal daily errands. He’ll sometimes shut his eyes, but he’ll usually rub at his opposite forearm or bicep with his dominant hand, as if he were nervous about something. He can have his eyes open, too, and ‘stare off into space.’ Barry’s P.TSD manifests itself with frequent dissociation as well as maladaptive daydreams. During his psych eval after he was discharged, Barry was so set on sticking to the story Fuches had fabricated that he managed to completely mask his P.TSD symptoms from the military psychiatrist, similar to him being able to lie at face value to Janice Moss and her interviewing partner in Gene’s office.

52 notes • Posted 2021-05-18 05:11:46 GMT

#2

just realized something about the scene where Barry shoots his friend Chris 

keeping his hand against the wheel serves two purposes. one being to make sure Chris doesn’t bruise himself trying to fight Barry off and have signs of a struggle, but another reason is because of rigor mortis

barry, having completed an unknown number of hits by now, knows that after someone dies, there is a very limited amount of time that you have to Pose someone before their body cannot be reliably repositioned. Even an hour after death, indentations in the skin that were left are still noticeable. 

Barry held Chris’ hand against the steering wheel so that the curve would stay in his fingers, making it look like he’d just been holding a gun and his fingers only relaxed a small amount away from the trigger, after Barry smeared off his fingerprints. 

61 notes • Posted 2021-06-01 01:40:46 GMT

#1

hey so whats that thing where you mimic people around you and your behaviors change all the time and its hard to know what is you and what is influence 

is that like identity confusion or alteration or nah? 

edit: for folks reblogging this (bc it’s getting notes fast), see the replies! it’s called mirroring or the mirror effect, and lots of folks do it for a myriad of diff reasons 👍

110 notes • Posted 2021-08-10 20:48:26 GMT

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[cabotcreekuniversity]

Dear Eloise Green as portrayed by NATALIE,

Congratulations! On behalf of Cabot Creek University, I am pleased to announce your admission for Fall 2017!

The academic and personal accomplishments reflected on your application for admissions are exactly what Cabot Creek University embodies and represents.

We cannot wait to greet you this coming school year.

Please [ check here ] for further instructions on accepting the offer of admissions. We look forward to working with you.

Name, Age, Timezone, Pronouns: Natalie, 20, EST, She/Her/Her’s

✯ IC Questionnaire ✯ Answer the following OOC about your character:

Character name: Eloise Green

Character major: Her major is education, and specifically, Eloise wants to go on an early childhood education route. In her junior year of high school, Eloise took a class to fill a Home Economics graduation requirement, that was geared towards Early Childhood Development. In the class, not only did they learn about the different stages of development, but also had to do craft assignments one could put up to stimulate children on Fridays. Each student would also eventually spend two days job shadowing in an early education classroom. Through this, Eloise found that it is frankly the perfect fit for her. There was so much organization to it. Being able to just even teach, tell people what they should know without seeming condescending. And the kids, oh how she loved kids and caring for said kids. After that, she couldn’t see any other path to go on. She also has a minor in Sociology. She tended to always be interested in the social sciences and does see getting this knowledge of groups of people as also being very helpful when she is a teacher.

Clubs or sports: Gymnastics! She has been in gymnastics since she could walk and it’s the perfect way to get out everything she builds up inside her with her very type A personality. Other than Gymnastics, she does just throw herself into her school work, actual work, and friends, but she is also signed up for, and occasionally goes to events for, the Philosophy Club. She didn’t have some type of reason, which got a giggle at the first meeting when she said she didn’t really know why she decided to join it, but she just found herself interested in it.

Will your character have a job?: Yes, she is a cashier at Yaya Yogurt. It is not nearly what she would like to be doing, but for the sake that she even had to go to Cabot Creek was a tight financial situation, so she definitely needs to continue to make money whilst here. Also, hey, it gives customer service experience, something she sees as being helpful practice for when she has to spend 6 hours teaching a day, and especially when parents will want to talk about their children’s performances.

Give us a head canon about your character:

The first time Eloise watched Pretty Little Liars, it was weird, and “weird” may even be too light of a word for what she experienced. It took her over a year to get past the second episode, as when they showed Spencer, with her family, at that dinner, she saw her own family.

There was that high/low game, and the family was using it solely to brag about their victories in work and school, and that was what happened so much with Eloise. Even on Eloise’s birthday, every year, her parents would fill a room with all her accomplishments both from that year, and all years past, and they would “tour” it together. Eloise could always expect two gifts from her parents every single year, and that “tour of accomplishments” was one of them.

That game, though? While not exactly the same, because there would never be any lows, it was all trying to just beat out each other in highs, when her siblings would come over that was all that would happen at the dinner table. It was strange too, how they played it. On one hand, her parents wanted to win themselves. On another hand, they barely saw Eloise’s older siblings, with the closest sibling age-wise to Eloise was even 14 years older than her. On the final hand, Eloise was their baby, and a miracle baby at that due to how old her parents were when they conceived her, so of course they wanted their baby to win.

However, seeing that scene, it struck a nerve in her. She saw the body language that the actors were having their characters give off. She saw how it wasn’t supposed to be seen as normal, with Spencer’s sister’s fiancee not totally understanding it due to his ‘outsider’ status still when it comes to the family.

It was too weird to not only see something that resembles you that much on air but even have it shown it was actually something ‘weird’? ‘Taboo’, even? She couldn’t deal with it, couldn’t face that fact and continue on with the show, until over a year later.

Answer the following questions IC about your character. Feel free to use a gif to respond if you’d like:

What is an issue you feel most passionate about?: “The lack of education towards girls worldwide. Did you know, in Chad, there is a sixteen percent gap between literacy rates for men and women? And a twenty-one percent gap between boys and girls enrolled in primary school? And remember Malala Yousafzai, when the Taliban shot her in the head - nearly killed - for daring to want not only herself to be educated but other girls in Pakistan to receive education, too? And, coming from Oklahoma, it isn’t much better here either. I mean, I was from the city, but I knew more out in rural areas, once kids could drop out of school, they were having their daughters do so. And that’s not even touching on the school-to-prison pipeline in this country when it comes to students of color. It’s ridiculous. We need to focus caring towards all kids getting an education, it leads to opportunities like I have.”

Describe your thoughts on social media?: “This may contradict my caring for world wide stance just before, but I love my social media. Well, except MySpace, does anyone use that anymore? Like, seriously, do they? Or, Google Plus was a thing for a hot second because of Google and YouTube combining, but I don’t think anyone ever used that in the history of ever. Did they? Anyway, one may even call me a ‘social media whore’. I think if I have gone seventy-two hours without a post on Instagram, and twenty-four hours without a tweet on Twitter, you can assume something bad has happened to me. FaceBook, SnapChat, LinkedIn, YouTube, Tumblr … You know, I also love and have those, but especially pay attention to me and my activity on Instagram and Twitter. Oh, and Pinterest! I love doing projects I find on there so much! And I always post the completed project to my Instagram!”

What is your favorite fandom or movie or TV show or book series (choose one)?: “Untold Stories of the E.R.! Oh god, what a guilty pleasure of mine. I just find myself completely letting go watching it. It’s kind of nice, wow.”

Opinion on love and romance?: “I’ve been in about two long term relationships before. There was my high school sweetheart, Seth. Then I’m sure you know but I started dating Erica the beginning of freshman year here, but we broke up at the end of sophomore year. My relationships, they are always super romantic and I do feel I am in love, so yes. I think that exists. That idea of one true love, that there is some one person in Montenegro, who at this point in time could be barely a year old, that I won’t be happy until I am with? No, I don’t believe in that. But, yes, cynics, love is a real feeling, and with it, heartbreak is a real feeling too. And romance as a concept exists.”

Optional Extras: http://eloisegreen.tumblr.com/

[switchedatbirthgleerp-blog]

accepted

We are very excited to accept PJ as Rachel McCarthy! We can’t wait to start playing with you. Please remember to go through the checklist.

OOC INFO

name: PJ age: 22 time-zone:  eastern activity: I will be most active at night time, unless things are mobile friendly, then I can be pretty consistent in replies through out the day. I’d say my activity out of 10 is a 6.5!

IC INFO

name: Rachel Eloise McCarthy sexuality: Pansexual ships: Rachel/Chemistry anti-ships: Rachel/No Chemistry nature: +hyper focused and +talented, -competitive and -overbearing nurture: +mothering and +kind, -kooky and -defensive

IC QUESTIONS

Do you believe you were possibly switched at birth? Why or why not?

I can’t imagine a bond like Mason and I’s could ever be based on lies. We are so close and so similar and don’t let me forget connected. I would be in complete disbelief if it ever came out we weren’t actually the McCarthy twins we’ve grown up to be. Except Mason looks like our parents and I look nothing like them and he keeps finishing Madison Berry’s sentences in glee club in a way he’s never been able to do for me…

How would you feel if you found out you were switched at birth?

I would be crushed. Mason is all I have in this cruel world and I wouldn’t know how to go on not being his big sister and his twin. As much as it stinks sometimes, being grouped together, it’s also really incredible to know we’ll always have one another. The idea of that going away is completely terrifying and leaves me with a whole bunch of crippling anxiety that I have never felt before.  More anxiety than the time we were completely sure someone was breaking into our house and we were the only ones home.

How do you think your family would react if you were switched?

I think you’d have to find them first…meaning they wouldn’t care so much unless their new child was talent-less. That would become completely problematic and I think my mom and dad would have no idea how to handle the fact that they made a child who can’t carry a tune or dance gracefully in the way that Mason and I can.

biography:

The McCarthy twins were born December 18th on a particularly snowy evening. The McCarthy’s welcomed young Rachel into the world first and four minutes later their son Mason arrived. The four minute difference is something Rachel has always held onto and often holds over her “younger” brother’s head. Most of the time it is in a joking manner but when the twins get into their many battles, (it’s hard having such strong personalities, incredible talent, and being together almost all the time,okay?) her being older is always the first thing she pulls from her bag of “As your sister I know what is best, especially since I’m your OLDER sister.”

Rachel truly believes she knows what is best. It’s why she’s been trusted to look after him and herself at the ripe age of 13, though the being alone thing was something the McCarthy twins were used to far before that. They didn’t have their parents in the way they needed because their parents were off chasing their dreams- something the Mcarthy’s instilled in their twins from a young age. except Rachel and Mason didn’t seem to have an opinion to what their dreams were to be as it was expected that they too dream of stardom and making it big in the entertainment industry.

Thankfully they thrived in the performing type environments and had no problems finding ways to be in the spotlight. Being two incredible talented kids (especially two incredible talented twins) gave them a lot to work with, often performing as acrobats in the circus tent at the Ohio Fair and even dancing duets as well as singing them. It was cute for a while and Rachel would never tire of performing with her favorite person, her favorite brother, but she can’t help but wish to be her own person sometimes, and not just grouped together as “those cute and talented and kooky twins!”

Now the McCarthy twins are sixteen years old and juniors in high school. They’ve established a spot in the glee club and on the cheerleading squad. Rachel will fight tooth and nail and say she deserves the title of head cheerleader but Coach Sylvester made it very clear the role was not to be hers. She can’t live it down. Now as usual she is on level playing field as everyone else and as Mason. The only thing she really has going for her is the fact that she gets to be the flyer and that she’s the smallest.

Though when it comes to dance classes being small isn’t always a good thing. Something her brother would always have over her as he’s so tall and in a place to be a ballerina if he ever chose to be, unlike her.

Rachel is really struggling this year, establishing her place as her own person but still being the best sister she can be to Mason. After all there are times she feels he is all she’s got in the mess she calls life and she didn’t think she could handle him ever being seriously mad at her or being out of her life. A concept she’d only begun thinking about when it was announced that there was a mess up in the system and that a bunch of kids in her school had been switched at birth.

This has only caused Rachel to be even more protective and overbearing, not only in her relationship with Mason, but in other relationships she had as well. She found it so hard because as much as she wanted to break free from just being a twin, she didn’t want to not be a twin either. There are moments when she’s stuck like glue to Mason and other times she can’t get away from him fast enough, making life even more confusing. She doesn’t want to lose him but what if she has to? Wouldn’t it be easier if she made it seem like it’s what she wanted?

Rachel hopes and prays daily that it just isn’t the case, that they are twins, that their crappy parents really are their parents, and that no matter what their relationship won’t change. But she can’t help the anxiety that takes over in the night when he’s in his own bedroom and it is even easier for her to believe that he’s just gone forever.