#or rather. no big ones that i know other than oxford

[britneyshakespeare]

I can't believe the Younger Brother (1689) by Aphra Behn has the only one bed trope

[c4qwp]

felix catton x fem!reader

| he falls hard for you

📎 tags : fluff, female reader, felix being older than you by a year, fanon of felix bc i’m such a bad writer guys, bad orthography, (my first post…), felix being a fucking cutie patootie, (y/n) not mentioned

📎 words count : oof idk but not a lot 💀🔥🔥🔥😜😜😜

📎 author's note : this is my first post (so first story), don’t hesitate to comment to help me to progress! english isn’t my first language, idk if felix is fanon but i tried my best to write him like i how i see him

felix was a charming, flirty, wealthy and captivating man. everyone loved him. everyone wanted to be around him. it exhausted him. people just wouldn't leave him alone. especially the girls. but he didn’t care about them, you were the exception.

you've only known felix for 6 months, but that hasn't stopped you from liking each other's personalities —and physiques. you're a new student from california studying at oxford, and the handsome british guy hasn't stopped coming to see you to find out more about you.

it all started with a laugh he heard in the hallway. a cute one he thought. and that's how he first saw you.

"hello?" you called loudly when you noticed eyes on you.

the sunlight illuminated felix perfectly as he met your gaze. you were just too cute. your doe eyes watching him while scanning him up and down due to his height.

"hey sorry- ive never seen you here before, are you new?" he asked.

as you were telling your friend to wait for you, an other guy appeared besides the stranger.

"felix where the fuck have you been mate??" a man with curly hair said.

"dude i’m busy let’s talk later" felix replied.

"hey sor-"

and you were gone.

felix didn’t even catch your name and it disappointed him. he likes to meet new people, even more when they’re cute like you.

a month passed after this rather short meeting. as you were revising in the library, a voice called out to you.

"oh hey arent you the new student?"

felix. you heard about him, only good thingd though. you’ve met him but his — pretty face, made you speechless. you felt shy in front of him. now there you are, sitting like an idiot and saying nothing. gosh.

"oh — uhmm hey!" you relied a bit nervously.

"hey! sorry i think we'd met before but hadn't talked more" he said.

"yes i remember." you introduced yourself and smiled.

"i’m felix catton nice to meet you as well" he smiled in turn.

"yeahh i heard about you, felix" you smirked and closed your book.

"oh yeah? i hope you've heard good things about me haha" he said.

"mmhh who knows?" you teased him.

while there was a small blank, he glimpsed your book.

"wait aint no way you’re reading harry potter?!" he said, trying to whisper as much as possible so as not to disturb the other students.

"way. i really like reading books. they're better than movies. and this is not the first time that i’m reading it." you replied.

"it’s my favorite book and it feels good to meet someone who thinks the same about it." he said with a big smile on his face.

it was getting late and you had to get back to your dorm to phone your best friend, who unfortunately wasn't at the same university as you. you exchanged phone numbers and then left.

one day.

one fucking day.

you two were apart for only a day. he sent you the first message and you answered them. he couldn't stop thinking about your smile, your eyes and your voice. it was the same for you.

even though you'd only been messaging each other for 2 weeks, he asked you if you wanted to go out somewhere. of course, you agreed and offered to go for a coffee to take a break from studying.

you put on a beautiful white summer dress that showed off your body.

‘i hope i’m not overdoing it...’ you thought.

03:17PM

"i’m so sorry for being late—…" you whispered to the man with a glass of soda against his lips, letting him know you were tired and done with the conversation. your eyes sparkling with joy, your lips curling up into a gleeful smile when you locked eyes with the person you had been craving to see all evening. he hadn't missed one night, not a single one. he was right on time. right there to stay with you, make you feel comfortable, talk to you all night.

you'd laugh, he'd watch.

he'd talk, you'd listen.

"no no don’t wo—" as he turned to answer you, he was stunned by your beauty.

his eyes wandered up and down your face. you noticed him and smiled at him.

‘i hate the way you make me feel — my chest begin to tighten when my eyes lock onto yours, yet i find it merely impossible to look away.’

[sunshine-theseus]

Photo Roulette | Chloe Kelly x Reader

Words: 1.6k Summary: Media day has Chloe finally revealing her relationship. Warnings: Angst, fluff, suggestive themes (I know degrees like PhDs take super long but for the sake of this story please either pretend they don’t, or that she is super smart and managed to cut the time in like half.) Requested by - @charligrantismygirlfriend

After graduating from Oxford with a bachelor’s degree and PhD in Cellular and Molecular Biochemistry, I made the move to Manchester as a clinical biochemist. Falling in love with a professional footballer was not on my list of things to do when I moved, but when a new work colleague insisted I take their extra ticket to a “derby match” as they called it, I took the chance to broaden my non-existent Manchester social circle.

And somehow, I caught the eye of the blonde forward. The number 9 jersey found it’s way into my hand with a signature and phone number and by 7pm that night, I had a date set up.

We went on a few before Chloe and I made anything official. And with making it official, came a set list of rules regarding our relationship and her work, number one was that it didn’t exist to fans. Well, it did, but no one would know who the mystery girl was. It was a tough rule to follow, it meant whenever we hung out, we had to be hyperaware of our levels of affection and what we discussed. Dates had to be at home or in a very secluded corner of a high-end restaurant with a name no one knows how to pronounce, because that means no one there would care who we are.

I was, and forever will be grateful that those places weren’t an issue for us. Both with rather lucrative professions, my starting salary slowly increasing the longer I stay, and her’s naturally growing with the popularity of the game. It also meant it was easier for us to find a more private area to buy a house, 1 ½ years without a single issue of fans knocking on the door or press waiting for some big news story to break. The perfect paradise.

No one knew who the famous Chloe Kelly is dating and had no way of finding out. Until media day.

-

“Have fun! I won’t be finished at the lab until late, so maybe we’ll get takeaway for dinner?” I kiss Chloe goodbye as I pick up my keys and bag from beside the door.

“For sure! Have a good day staring at cells. At least it’s not jail cells.” I chuckle and make my way out.

My day is in fact consumed with studying pathogens within blood and other bodily fluid. It’s nearly 6pm when Filipa taps me on the shoulder, breaking my concentration and reintroducing me to my surroundings. She helps me pack everything away, we say our farewells and I head home, picking up a vegetarian pizza on the way.

“How was media day?” I ask, plopping down on the couch next to Chloe, who rests her arm around my shoulders.

“Bloody weird as usual. I did this “go through your phone” thing, but it was all good fun. I did some mini games with Yui as well. She wants us to come over for dinner again sometime.”

“Absolutely. I miss her oh my god.” I take a bite of the pizza and rest my head on her shoulder, images on the telly flashing in front of us, neither one paying attention.

“How was your day at the lab Dr Spencer Reid?”

“You’ve been watching Criminal Minds again?”

“Mhm.”

“Spencer and I are two different types of doctors.”

“Mmhm.”

“I mean we both have the honorifics but his is like, not the same. Well it is but… never mind.” I can see Chloe’s lip twitch upward as I try to explain and lightly nudge her.

“I love listening to you get defensive about your title. You deserve it more than anyone in the world.” Her lips press gently to my hairline, then to my cheek, and finally land on my own lips.

“Plus, I love calling you doctor, it’s kind of hot.” My face flushes and I smack her arm.

“Behave!”

“Sorry… doctor.” To make it brief, the night didn’t end there. It ended much, much later, with both of us panting, the cotton sheets covering her soft skin while I splash my face with water in the ensuite.

~~~~~

I don’t give the results of Chloe’s media day another thought for a very long time. Until a month later when Fillipa, in similar fashion to the day of filming said content, breaks me from my work and places her phone on the desk in front of me.

I give her a rather confused look, but she just points to the screen and presses play.

“Well, the next part of Unlocked is one of my favourite bits; Photo Roulette.” The guy who sits next to Chloe explains the rules.

“Fillipa what is this?”

“Just keep watching.” I watch as Chloe scrolls through the thousands of photos stored on her phone, until he tells her to stop.

Her finger lands on a photo, one that no one can see yet, and she lets out a hearty laugh.

“’S it a good one?” he claps his hands together and waits to see the results. There are a few moments of silence before Chloe explains the picture, showing it to the host.

“It’s a picture of my girlfriend, Y/n. I was trying to teach her football and she comes out in this goofy old kit of mine that’s like 4 sizes too big for either of us, socks rolled all the way up with a huge grin on her face.” The smile that shines on Chloe’s face as she recounts that day makes it hard for me to feel the anger boiling in the pit of my stomach. The picture shows up on screen, taking up the whole space, and now the secret is revealed to everyone who we worked so hard to hide it from.

“Is this the secret girlfriend you’ve been hiding the identity of for over 2 years? You finally decided it’s time.” He lets out a laugh after the comment, but I can see the recognition in her eyes and the smile fades from her face. She doesn’t say anything.

It takes me 32 minutes on average, to drive home. On any other day. But when I get into the car, I have to decide whether I should take significantly longer, or cut the time in half, to confront my girlfriend with my findings.

I arrive home at 5:21. With the combination of leaving work a few minutes early, and the somehow blessed lack of traffic, it’s nearly 15 minutes earlier than usual.

“You’re home early!” a cheerful shout echoes down the hall, blissfully unaware of the rage bubbling beneath my skin.

“Just thought I’d get home before the fans tracked me down and swarmed me.” I seethe through my teeth as I kick off my shoes and make my way toward our bedroom.

“What d’you mean?” it’s almost precious, the confused look and the head tilt that greets me.

“Well now that everyone knows who I am, I didn’t want to risk being seen.” I see the moment of realisation.

“Oh fuck I completely forgot! I didn’t mean to I swear. I’m so sorry it just slipped out.”

“How do you slip up like that Chlo? That was our one agreement, our one rule. Fans would not know. God I’ve seen how cruel people are to player’s partners, I’ve seen couples break up because of fans. Chloe what the fuck!” I fall forward onto the bed and scream into the pillows.

“Well you never asked how I feel about having to hide my girlfriend from everyone! I get you want privacy and security of fans not knowing but I want to be able to celebrate with you after wins, or just rest in your arms after a loss, without worrying if someone will see. I want to be able to take you to big games and pull you onto the pitch and kiss you in front of everyone and show them how much I love you. It’s not fair that I have to pretend you mean nothing!” A tear leaks from my eye, and I soon start to sob. My shoulders shake and I can feel the puddle of tears get soaked up by the pillow.

I feel the dip of the bed beside me and Chloe’s arm wraps around me while her lips press light kisses against my back.

“I’m sorry. I want to be there for you too. Show the world I love you. I’m just scared. I’ve never really been seen by people outside of academics. I’m scared to just… be seen.” I roll over and pull Chloe down to rest her head against my chest, running my hands through her hair, untangling the small knots.

“I will love you no matter what. If you decide to continue keeping it private or if you, break up with me.”

“Chloe I will not fucking break up with you. I think- I think I want people to know. I want to love you properly.” Her head tilts up and I lean down, pressing a kiss to her lips.

~~~~~

“Chloe Kelly takes a shot… AND IT GOES IN. SHE SCORES THE WINNER IN THE 92ND MINUTE!!” I yell from the friends and family section as Chloe practices shots in front of me.

She turns dramatically toward me with a glare on her face, but I poke out my tongue and she breaks out into a smile. She makes the short jog over to me and pulls me into a kiss. A rather passionate one if you want to be specific. I grab her by the shirt and pull her close, kissing her harder as people around us jokingly cheer.

“See you after the game baby.” she pecks my lips once more before running back to her teammates who clap her on the back and tease her.

“That’s my girlfriend!” I scream and point, and the same people laugh along with me.

Thank god for media day.

[mariacallous]

If there’s one term that’s been used more than others when describing this year’s Spotify Wrapped, it’s this: flat. The New York Times said it. So did TikTokkers. Between its “Pink Pilates Princess Roller Skating Pop” phases and AI-generated mini-podcasts, lots of listeners took time away from the time-honored tradition of posting their cringiest Wrapped stats to say that this year’s offerings were milquetoast at best.

“Spotify Wrapped is a bit … underwhelming this year,” wrote one X user. “NOT worth the hype,” offered another. The annual tradition “lost what made it so dynamic in the first place,” wrote a third, citing things like location- and music-based Sound Towns that rolled out with Wrapped in previous years. “Which is to say that PEOPLE make things better. Those layoffs are showing.”

Quite a few frustrated Spotify users referenced layoffs at the company and questioned whether its shedding of key talent was to blame for Wrapped’s fizzle. The company let go of some 1,500 people, 17 percent of its workforce, this time last year, something CEO Daniel Ek later acknowledged “did disrupt our day-to-day operations more than we anticipated.”

Seemingly, Wrapped relied on AI more than ever this year, with AI podcasts to analyze your listening habits, an algorithmic playlist hosted by Spotify’s AI DJ, and bizarre, probably AI-generated genre descriptions.

Yet it seems unlikely the layoffs were the only thing that impacted the quality of Wrapped this year. It could be that the algorithms are just losing touch.

That’s not to say they’re not tracking stream numbers the way they used to—although there are conspiracy theories to that effect—but rather that everyone now knows they’re being tracked, and algorithms just aren’t able to pick up on organic trends the way they used to.

After years of embarrassingly finding out that they spent more time listening to My Chemical Romance breakup songs than they did listening to their friends’ advice, people are now self-conscious about what they play and in what volume. Just as much as everyone went into this year’s Wrapped season prepared to brag about their Brat Summer, they were just as worried about telling on their Sad Bastard autumn. Parents, once again, found that their Wrapped wasn’t about their own tastes, but their children’s.

Wrapped has ceased being about one person’s surprising listening habits and more about nebulous shifts in vibe. Yes, lots of people listened to Chappell Roan and Kendrick Lamar this year. Is anyone the least bit stunned?

But this isn’t even just a Spotify issue. Lots of platforms now offer year-in-review wrap-ups, and nearly all of them feel like a collective shrug. Over on TikTok, the company touted that its users were very interested in being demure, very into Moo Deng. Yeah, no kidding. These revelations are about as shocking as the fact that there were 1.2 million BookTok posts in the first 10 months of the year, something anyone who has ever opened the app could probably tell you is a big part of the platform.

Reading its annual report, I was reminded that, perhaps, TikTok’s algorithm has gotten too good at pointing people in the direction of sure-fire hits and less good at loading FYPs with videos people will find incredibly inventive or fascinating.

In other unsurprising news, horniness was big on Grindr this year. The hookup app’s Unwrapped report also named Charli XCX as Mother of the Year and found that the Sex Position of the Year was missionary. Actually, maybe that is surprising. For Grindr, at least.

My final thought, though, comes from a year-end mainstay that (I don’t think) is algorithmically based: Oxford University Press’ Word of the Year. Determined by popular vote, input from experts, and, as Oxford Languages president Casper Grathwohl told The New York Times, a little bit of “dark art,” this year’s word is … drumroll … “brain rot.” Er, you know, the degeneration that comes from too much time looking at dumb stuff online.

First, yes, that’s two words. Second, other people also noticed this discrepancy, proving that maybe all of the internet’s beloved year-end traditions are feeling the heat of social media scrutiny this year. “Brain rot” also beat out “demure” and “romantasy,” the frequent BookTok topic. So, ultimately, maybe algorithms did impact this one, too, just not in the way you might expect. Maybe the real brain rot was all the decisions we made along the way.

[ihaveforgortoomany]

Reverse 1999 and the Nature of Tragedy: Analysis on how the tragic structure is used and potentially why (spoilers for Chapters 2,3 and 6 mainly)

Reverse 1999 loves tragic characters, we don't go any patch without suffering. Here Im going to explore how the tragic structure in literature is presented in the game through at least three main story chapters.

Tender is the Night (although I have covered aspects already in previous Chapter Two analysis)

Nouvelles et Textes pour Rien

E Lucevan le Stelle

What is Tragedy?

Tragedy is often described as a play dealing with tragic events and having an unhappy ending, especially one concerning the downfall of the main character (thank you Oxford Languages)

Yes this is common knowledge but the core to a tragic narrative is the inescapability on the tragic ending - the way I usually describe tragdies is like a cake no matter how you slice it, it is either too sweet or stale and never a perfect bite.

Tragedy in Tender is the Night

This will be short as I have analysis on the chapter in previous posts so here will be specific bits. Schneider here can be considered the tragic character as she ultimately gets taken by the storm, while I don't consider her to have a traditional tragic flaw the status as a human pretending to be a arcanist does doom her character. She is denied by the Foundation/ the Chicago Branch so attempts to find safety in the Manus by lying that she was adopted into the Greco family, however likely Manus had captured Mariam and after being tortured by them reveals Schneider's identity.

Throughout Chapter Two there is a moments of false hope that she might be saved, somehow surviving multiple bullets (I mean really she was shot so many times arcane healing must do wonders) . It is only the very end to we realise Schneider was never going to survive (gameplay does trick us as well since we can play as her in the boss fight of Ch.1 and for some reason still in the final tutorial stage which I only found out at lvl 40 when I wanted clear drops lol).

Tragedy in Chapter Three

A large part in tragedy is the helplessness the audience feels at being aware of all events yet unable to prevent events from happening. We get the perspective of Constantine setting up the conditions for the Breakaway attempt to occur on the day of the Storm, even making us watch chess board style how Vertin and her friends are lured into a trap. Tragic characters do not need to experience a literal death, as Vertin could be considered the tragic heroine here, her hubris being the hope and desire for the outside world that led her to attempt to leave SPDM. Ofc she doesn't die but her actions result in the reversal of her friends and cementing her role as the Timekeeper.

The point of no return could be seen in the children choosing to escape on an earlier date, unable to see the scheming and manipulation of Constantine to create loopholes the children view as opportunities to escape rather than a trap.

Tragedy in Chapter Six

This is a big one as operas and plays tend to be tragedies themselves. Isokania is a tragic relationship as both Isolde and Kakania regardless if they lived each other were doomed from the start: being an unethical doctor and patient relationship, Kakania not being a licensed doctor therefore completely misjudging her patient's wellbeing, Isolde's own mental instability, dangers of her arcane powers, the history of her family ... the list goes on. Even if they ended up together they would not truly be happy.

Isolde is a tragic character, other than being a reference to Tosca, she is doomed by the nature of the arcane power and the nature of her family. A family own for misfortune as a result of their arcane skills (her sister dying at age 3 to a seance) + the social pressures of being an upper class woman in the 1910s.

Book six having a reference to 'A Streetcar named Desire?'

So we already know Book Six reference multiple tragic operas such as Tosca but I want to suggest the final chapter in this patch potential makes reference to a 1940s tragic play called "A Streetcar Named Desire".

(This is a stretch since Tennesse Williams published the play in the 1940s not the 1910s)

So. In this scene Kakania attempts to interrogate Isolde on the nature of The Salvation, to confront the fact that she was the co-creator to the painting, the fire was caused by Theophil who hoped to end both his and his sister's suffering but was shot by Isolde instead.

It is notable that Isolde repeatedly asks for the lights in the room to be turned down, refusing to look at the truth in the painting. While we could just view this standalone I think we could make a guess or suggestion that this scene is meant to reference another tragedy.

(Maybe there is an older tragic play that employs a similar scene but Ive only studied this one, someone can tell me in comments)

A Streetcar Named Desire sees a fading Southern Belle Blanche Dubois move into New Orleans with her sister Stella and her husband Stanley effectively as a last resort, her past is filled with "leaky roofs" and instability with sleeping with men to survive, alongside the destruction of the Old South leads to her to seek refuge with her only surviving family.

She almost finds salvation here, finding love in an ordinary man named Mitch. However this is a tragedy. Late into the play Stanley, Stella's husband confronts Blanche on her lies about her past, putting a light to her deception in order to reinforce is own authority over the house. Eventually succeeding in sending Blanche to a mental hostpital (Im summarising a play, I may miss other details and this is long)

And what about Isolde? Like Blanche she is forced to confront the truth she had tried to repress in her memory, remember in a previous seesion with Kakania the detail that she shot Theophil with intent (again who allowed her a gun and who taught her? I guess she can channel the spirit of a sharpshooter?) is omitted, similar to how Blanche in the play distorts the truth with lie, the "what SHOULD be true" could be viewed as Isolde making the world her stage, everything as a performance that never ends.

The idea of having to confront the truth of events being forced into the light is similar to Blanche's reoccurring motif of bring adverse to strong light, revealing all her flaws. However the person forcing them to see the truth is different, where Kakania acts out of a determination to right her wrongs and find the Storm Immunity Ritual to save everyone, Stanley (similar to Mr Karl) acts out of self preservation and malice.

Here's the big one: why does Reverse 1999 employ so much tragedy?

Tragedies are usually employed as a message to the audience, a commentary on the state of the world about people/ individual facing the impossible force of society, its expections and its demand for conformity.

There can be many answers, we still have more chapters to explore the narratives of this game but so far it seems Reverse 1999 wants to tell a story about overcoming adversity, to not be defined by others or your past, to "beat onboard boats against the current" (see what I did there?) even if the odds are surmountable. It is a struggle for both the truth and the future even if the odds are against you.

(This is giant speculation, nothing concrete but yeah feed the brainrot)

(We could analyse each 'focus character' of each patch because I think they generally follow this theme but that's alot, the game is still updating and i have uni soon so)

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 22: This Misery We've Made

Summary: Approval numbers and public perception of Tommy's personal life force him and Lucy to face some painful realities.

Word Count: 3,519

Warnings: Polyamory and references to past abuse.

Notes: Not really sure if I'm entirely happy with this chapter, but I've been fiddling with it for so long and I just need to move on. Hope you all still like it!

Previous Part • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 1: Too Late

“No.”

Lucy sighed, looking pleadingly into Tommy’s glacial eyes as they hardened over with stubbornness. 

“Tommy, love, we both know it would fix all of these problems…”

“As we’ve already discussed to exhaustion.” His jaw ticked. “I won’t do it.”

“Sweetheart,” she broke eye contact with him to look down at the papers settled in her lap. Her hands fiddled with her rings, gaze glued  to the infernal numbers emblazoned upon the reports, as if staring at them hard enough would cause them to shift and change. “It’s not getting any better. If anything, it’s only going to get worse.”

“The constituents don’t seem to care,” he huffed, reaching into his pocket for his cigarette case. “Considering that they elected me.”

She frowned. “Because we bribed your way in. And besides, I’m not sure if a lot of them even knew then. You weren’t exactly shouting your marital status and Ruby’s parentage from the rooftops.” Not that he’d hid it, per say. He just avoided discussing it during the campaign and while in settings related to his work. “And they might not care now, but what about when your political rivals start harping about it in the press? They’re already using it to try to shut you out of certain things. Not to mention that arsehole from Oxford who keeps using it to try to cut down all your arguments in the house.”

“Fucking ridiculous,” Tommy shook his head, lighting his cigarette and releasing a puff of smoke from his lips up towards the ceiling.

They were seated in his office in the House of Commons, the big wooden double doors that led out into the workroom that she shared with the other secretary, Adam, closed. Not that they needed to be. Adam had already gone home for the evening, as had most of the other MPs and their staff. No one would be interrupting them. It was late, nothing but darkness and a flickering streetlight visible out the window. 

She was still getting used to spending her days working in the offices of the House of Commons rather than the betting shop or the office in Birmingham. While the general decor and design of the building was not all that dissimilar–outside of just being bigger–there was something distinctively different about this place. A stuffiness and sense of propriety that served as a thin veil for the egos and superiority that radiated from so many of the men who sauntered through its halls. It was a bit of a shock to go from Small Heath, where just about everyone knew her name and she was decidedly near the top of the food chain as far as both authority and respect goes, to here where she was lucky if the MP just next door could even remember her name. In these offices, she was not the Red Demon, or even Lucy Winters. Here she was just Thomas Shelby’s Assistant. And was treated as such. 

It wasn’t all bad, of course. She still got to spend most of her days at Tommy’s side, and the work was not that different from what she’d been doing for him before. 

“I agree, but that’s the way that things are, love.” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “And your constituents do care. That’s what these numbers are all about,” she nodded to the report in her lap. “More and more of them indicated that while they’re happy with your performance and policies, they’re troubled by your conduct regarding your personal life.” She held out the papers, and he took them with a reluctant sigh, pulling his glasses from his pocket and sliding them onto his nose so he could look them over himself. 

“Doing…doing this,” Lucy swallowed, unable to bring herself to utter the thing that, ever since Ruby’s birth–and certainly ever since he was elected–hovered threateningly over them. The guillotine teetering precariously above their heads. “It would help improve your standing with the more traditional and family focused members of your constituents. And might even open up some more doors for you here with the conservative MPs. God knows we already have a hard enough time working with them.” Bunch of racist, classist dickheads was what they were. All too eager to look down their nose at the man who had clawed his way from the bowels of Small Heath’s dirty streets to the halls of power. They already had enough reasons to attempt to shut Tommy out, they really didn’t need to be giving them anymore ammunition. 

Tommy met her eyes, and she saw a crack appear in his resolve. Deep down, they both knew that she was right. This needed to be done. 

Even if it was going to break both their hearts. 

Tommy closed his eyes, head tilting up as he released another stream of smoke from his lips. His brow pinched with stress, the skin around his temples tightening. 

She forced herself to be strong. “You know just as well as I do how important image is to the people we’re now surrounded by. And to the people you’ve been elected to serve. We can’t just…shrug off what other people think of our personal lives anymore. Presenting the image of a proper family will solve nearly all the current problems outlined in those numbers.” 

His lips pursed. He was not seated behind his desk, but rather in the chair next to hers in front of it, one leg crossed over the other. One of his hands lifted to touch the side of his face, thumb moving across his lips while he examined her shrewdly and listened to her argument.

“We can’t ignore this forever. It has the potential to ruin everything you’ve worked so hard for.” She looked him hard in the eye, beseeching him to understand. He still just stared at her, clearly fighting against the knowledge that he knew she was right. “There’s only one clear solution that I can see that fixes pretty much all problems at once.”

How many times had they discussed this? Too many to count. And he always shot the idea down instantaneously. When Polly tried to push it harder on one of their more recent meetings, he’d nearly ripped her head off. 

“Look, you know what my suggestion for a solution is. If you have any others, I’m happy to hear them.” She was suddenly in dire need of a cigarette. Sensing her need, Tommy silently held out the one clutched between his fingers towards her. She took it with a noticeably unsteady hand, bringing it gratefully to her lips. Tommy watched all of her movements closely, knuckles pressed up against his lips, frown still firmly in place. Picking up the report of his approval numbers, his eyes skimmed over the front page once more before tossing it onto his desk, removing his glasses and putting them back in his pocket.

The silence while he mulled over her words seemed to stretch on forever, only interrupted by the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the mantle. Lucy had to fight back the desire to fill it with more near nonsensical babbling. 

Why was she even arguing for this so bloody hard? She should be happy that he’d instantly dismissed the suggestion the very first time that she brought it up. Hell, she was, from a purely selfish standpoint.

Tommy’s hand dropped from where it was resting against his lips to take one of hers, thumb running along her knuckles. 

“I don’t want to marry Lizzie,” he said softly.

She met his gaze sadly. “I know.” I don’t want you to marry her either. But she knew if she told him that, she would never manage to convince him to go through with it. He’d refuse forever all on account of her feelings, even if it meant that he could lose everything he’d worked so hard for.  

The idea that he could lose it all and it would be her fault made her feel sick with guilt.

“But we’re being backed into a corner here, love,” she chose her words carefully. “Being unmarried with an illegitimate child makes some of your constituents think that you don’t value families. If you want to stop your approval numbers from dipping, and even have a shot at reelection in a few years…”

“I haven’t even thought about reelection, yet.”

She gave him a look that was both stern and fond in equal measure. “Now, we both know that isn’t true.”

His lips quirked upwards slightly, eyes warming at how well she knew him. But when he scooted closer to her, sadness quickly leaked back into his expression, lips turning downwards.

“I don’t love her.”

“I know,” she repeated, feeling even worse at the spark of relief that statement brought her. Poor Lizzie. 

He shot her a look of deep, unending regret, brushing some hair out of her face. Her eyes fluttered at the warm press of his palm against her cheek when he cupped it. “I promised you that I wouldn’t marry her,” he whispered. 

“You said that you didn’t plan to,” she corrected, recalling the conversation when he first informed her of Lizzie’s pregnancy. The things he’d murmured to her whilst holding her on the floor of their bedroom while she cried. “Plans can change.”

“I am not leaving you,” there was zero room for argument in his voice, jaw shifting stubbornly. 

“Lizzie might not agree to marry you if you don’t.”

Tommy shook his head. “It’ll be a marriage of convenience only. You and me still being able to be together is non-negotiable. I’m not budging on that.”

She smiled a little in spite of herself at his devotion, leaning her face deeper into his palm. “It feels terribly unfair to her.”

“She can always say no if she really can’t handle it. We’ll be clear about what it’ll all entail, so she doesn’t get the wrong idea about any of it meaning something between me and her. Besides, she’s been warmer towards you lately.”

That was true. Though who knew how long that would actually last.

Scooting his chair closer to hers, Tommy leaned forward, holding her face with both hands, forehead resting against hers. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with it?” he asked urgently. Lucy swallowed hard. The thought of watching him stand up at an altar and make vows and promises to another woman, of having to live under the same roof as Lizzie and share him with her for the rest of their lives…

It burned harshly in her chest, cracks forming in her already fragile heart. 

But she could live with it. It was a sacrifice she was willing to make if it meant that Tommy would not lose all he’d worked so extremely hard to achieve. 

Maybe…maybe it actually wouldn’t be all that bad. He was right that Lizzie had been kinder and more amicable towards her as of late. Perhaps she would even be agreeable to all three of them sharing a bed from time to time, like they used to. And it would be nice to have Ruby in the same house as them so they could see her more. She and Charlie could be raised as proper siblings. 

“Yes,” she said, unknowingly sealing both their fates. “So long as we don’t have to break up.”

“I won’t ever let that happen,” Tommy promised. She leaned in closer to him, hands resting on his forearms. Tommy gave her a little tug. “Come here,” drawing her from her chair, he pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her hair. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she murmured into his chest, arms winding around his neck. “I hate to say ‘I told you so,’ but…”

He snorted, lightly pinching her hip. “Yeah, yeah.” Lips ghosting across her temple, he silently urged her face back enough so that he could kiss her softly. “I mean it. I won’t let us be torn apart.”

A small smile pulled at her lips, his reassurance like a band-aid over her fracturing heart while he kissed her again. 

∗ ∗ ∗

“Well,” Lizzie said, adjusting her fingers around her cigarette, straightening in her chair. Even sitting down, she looked tall, the way in which she sat with her spine entirely straight only adding to the effect. She looked between Tommy and Lucy seated before her at the other side of the round table in front of the fireplace in Tommy’s Birmingham office. “That’s one hell of a way to propose to someone.”

Lucy winced a little at the underlayer of bitterness in Lizzie’s voice, looking down at her hands in shame.

“Technically you aren’t being proposed to until we know that you agree to our…conditions,” Tommy was much less phased by Lizzie’s reaction, puffing on his cigarette whilst eyeing her from around the vase of deep red roses on the table between them. 

“I’m pretty sure that I know what those are already,” Lizzie huffed, shifting in her seat, briefly glancing at the fire crackling away in the hearth. She looked back at them, and gave a little gesture with the hand holding her cigarette for him to continue. “But let’s hear them anyway.” 

Tommy adjusted himself in his seat, leaning forward with one of his arms resting on the table. When he spoke, his voice had taken on the commanding edge that Lucy had heard him use when giving orders to his men or family members. 

“After we are married, you and Ruby will come to live at Arrow House. You will enjoy all luxuries that the home and the title as my wife offers. All we expect is that you help take care of the children and manage things that have to do with the household. You can continue to hold a position on the company’s board, if you’d like. But most importantly,” he glanced over at Lucy, holding her gaze steadfastly before turning back to Lizzie, “Lucy and I will still get to be together.”

The area around Lizzie’s lips tightened slightly. “So you aren’t offering me a real marriage, but only one of convenience.”

To his credit, Tommy did not flinch away from her stern, accusing gaze. “Yes; that’s exactly what I’m offering you.” 

Lizzie leaned back into her chair, nursing at her cigarette as she contemplated. Lucy struggled to meet her gaze when it shifted periodically over to her, guilt roiling through her like a tempestuous storm. She’d never been able to shake the feeling that if she were not around, Tommy and Lizzie may have actually stood a chance together. And she was pretty certain that Lizzie thought the same exact thing. 

“I want you to promise that you will be discreet,” Lizzie finally said very slowly. “I will not be publicly humiliated by my husband openly fucking another woman.”

“Of course,” Lucy nodded. They already had toned down most displays of physical affection whilst in public, presenting instead as simply colleagues who happened to be good friends. Gestures of romance were saved for behind closed doors. It was not unlike it was prior to Grace’s death, when the three of them had to practice restraint to avoid a scandal. “And we’re willing to make accommodations to make sure you and Ruby are comfortable.”

“Within reason,” Tommy interjected quickly. 

“I want a honeymoon,” Lizzie said decisively. “A real one. With just you and me.” Her eyes wavered from Tommy to fix on Lucy, then darted back to him. Lucy thought she caught a glimpse of pleading in her face. 

The mere idea of them going on a romantic vacation together without her left insecurity brewing beneath her skin, but Lucy forced herself to ignore it. Considering what they were asking of her, it felt like it was the least that they could do. “Okay.”

Tommy shot her a glance. “We’ll have to talk about it,” he modified. 

Lizzie nodded. “Of course.” The clock on the mantle chimed. “I have to head home. I promised the nanny I’d be back by half past five. I can come by this weekend to work out more of the details if you’d like.”

“Yes, that would be good. You have a ride home?” Tommy asked, both he and Lucy standing after Lizzie stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray and rose to her feet. 

“Yes, Skudboat offered to drop me off.”

“Right. We’ll see you this weekend, then.”

“Give Ruby a kiss from us,” Lucy requested timidly. Lizzie shot her a smile that actually seemed half genuine. 

“I will.”

They bid her goodbye, Lucy waiting until the door swung shut behind her before sinking exhaustedly back into her chair. She was struck at how transactional the whole exchange had been. Like ironing out a business deal rather than arranging a marriage.  

The floorboards creaked under Tommy’s heavy footsteps as he approached her. Reaching out, he rubbed a hand up and down on her upper arm, bending to kiss her forehead. 

“Are you alright?”

She stuffed the guilt bubbling up within her back down, locking it away in a far corner of her mind. “Yeah.”

“I can get out of the honeymoon if it makes you uncomfortable. Or insist that you come along.”

“It’s fine,” she probably said it too quickly to be convincing. “It’s the least that we can do for her, considering.”

“I don’t like the idea of going without you.”

“Me neither,” she admittedly, finally looking up to meet his concerned blue orbs. “But it’s just one week.” She knew him better than to expect that he’d be willing to take more than that off work. “We’ll live.”

He stroked her face tenderly, brow furrowing slightly. “You don’t have to give her everything that she wants. I know that you feel bad, even though you really shouldn’t, but…” he trailed off, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, thumb brushing down her cheek. “If she pushes too far, if she’s unkind to you, or asks for something you aren’t comfortable with, all you have to do is tell me, and I’ll take care of it, alright?”

Nodding, she turned her face to kiss the center of his palm. “Thank you,” covering his hand with hers, she smiled weakly. “Congratulations on your engagement.”

“Ugh,” he made a face as though he’d just been told he was sentenced to be executed, rather than engaged to be married, and dropped his head forward until it was resting against her shoulder. Lucy wrapped her arms around him, burrowing her face into his hair, breathing in the scent of his soap and cologne. “I wish it was you,” he mumbled sorrowfully against her throat, and for a dreadful moment Lucy actually thought that she might start to cry. 

“I know.” And though she did not say it–for fear that if she did, he would call the whole damn thing off and throw his reputation and all professional prospects in the bin–they both knew the words circulating within her head:

Me too.  

When he first brought up the topic of marriage, all the way back in 1918, before Grace had even walked into their lives, she had told him that it was not something she was sure that she wanted. She was still living with the trauma of being previously engaged to a monster who hurt and abused her, and the only example of marriage she’d had was the loveless, horrific mess that was her parents. It was something he’d respected, unconcernedly promising that marriage or no marriage, he would still love her forever.

After Grace died, the topic had passed briefly every once in a while across her mind. With times changing and modern perspectives growing in popularity, it was no longer a necessity that she stop working if she were married. And with the slow passage of time, the idea of marriage no longer seemed to her like a cage to be bound and gagged within. She knew that Tommy would never expect her to change simply because he placed a ring on her finger. 

But she didn’t bring it up to him, both of them were still aching too terribly from Grace’s death. It was too soon. For them personally, for Charlie, and for either of their reputations. 

And then the vendetta had happened. And for a bit of fun they took Lizzie down to the canal for a fuck like they so often did before Grace stepped into their lives. 

If only she hadn’t still been so messed up on the topic the first time that he asked. If only she’d expressed her changing feelings on the matter with him before Lizzie got pregnant. Maybe things would be different. 

She could not say anything about it now. If she did, he would abandon this plan that was poised to solve so many problems for him. Not to mention that marrying her instead of Lizzie would create a whole new set of issues for him to deal with, some with the potential to wreck everything he’d accomplished.

It was too late.  

Previous Part • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[taradactyls]

Progress Update for Trying to Tread Water

Welp, we all got better, and then sick again within a week. So I didn't write enough to feel ready to post the chapter before illness got me. Pretty mildly, but fatigue is a big factor and when you combine that with caring for two toddlers... yeah.

So, below is a (largely unedited) sneak peak for you, of the chapter which has unintentionally turned into a little bit of a tour guide of the route from London to Derby.

I thought I would do a paragraph or two of the journey, but then I wanted to know a few villages I could name drop (the same way Jane Austen does with Oxford, Warwick, Kenilworth, etc in Pride and Prejudice) but that required research. Which led me into the research black hole. I ended up stitching together my own maps, comparing that to two or three other antique maps which focused on different information, plotting alternate routes, excessive use of the measuring tool in google maps, google street view, Wikipedia searches (why do so many villages list the amount of Indian restaurants they have??), and finally a four page document I made of each village they would pass through, with their distance, special features, etc. Most of it isn't relevant, but I needed to know it to feel that my writing had a solid foundation, and there was too much good stuff and potential scenes for me to be able to resist including some.

Here's the first glimpse of one of those locations I 'found' as I was doing this research. Dunstable Priory (with an image of it at the bottom).

They passed two more villages before the Dunstable Downs came into view, somewhat low as the road was, but Elizabeth did indeed reckon the walk to the top would be worth it. They resolved to undertake the climb, and explore Dunstable, the adjacent market town, for a considerable time. There was unlikely to be anything more enticing awaiting them in their final two stops for the day, so they had plenty of hours to spare.

At the inn where they were changing the horses, Elizabeth asked a maid within what might be seen around the village, and whether the downs were worth the exertion.

“There is the priory, if it please you ma’am. And the view from the hills is very fine. I have heard tell it is the highest point in this part of England, and indeed you can see farther in fine weather than I have ever travelled.”

Elizabeth settled it with Mr Darcy to climb the escarpment after their meal. While that was being prepared, they walked over to explore the church, which was considerably closer by and could be managed in a short time. It was far statelier than Elizabeth expected, with a very ancient façade which only grew more imposing the closer they got. Until, standing on the path sloping down from the doors and feeling entirely dwarfed by the ornate columns and pillars stretching many stories up to crenelations and yet a higher tower, she had to laugh. “I was expecting a country church,” said she. “I feel this place once might once have been of considerable importance.”

His brow furrowed slightly in thought, Mr Darcy mused “Yet there are many grand remnants of abbeys and priories about, after falling into ruin following the dissolution of the monasteries. Perhaps it was common for places of worship to be so impressive, and the only uncommon aspect is that it survived.”

“I will concede perhaps it once had more peers, and many larger, before so many other grand religious houses were lost. But I think it must have always been uncommon in its size and ornamentation. The sheer number of tiny country churches whose simple Norman bell towers cannot rival this surely show that.”

“They show this may never been considered modest, that is true,” Mr Darcy conceded. “But it does not necessarily follow that this particular priory had any great significance. It might have been rather average, or slightly above, for most of its life, until its fellows lost their roofs in the looting following Henry VIII’s decrees and his appropriation of the income which funded such splendour.”

Elizabeth turned to him with a smile. “I suppose I have not the knowledge to counter that fully” said she, “as we would need to compare it to a comprehensive list of everything that existed alongside it. But I cannot imagine something so impressive in appearance and preservation is irrelevant.”

“Luck, and relevance to the local people might be all that was needed to preserve it. Plenty of places of undisputed national importance have been lost,” countered Mr Darcy. “If there is anything significant about this particular priory, we might expect it to be an abbey, or have heard more about it.”

“If whole palaces and abbeys have been lost to ruin, I think it not unusual if we also lost the history of a place. It might still be important despite us knowing very little of it,” said Elizabeth empathically.

“One could claim the same of almost any hill in England – there have been ancient kingdoms and barrows enough to justify it.”

“Perhaps one would be right to do so! Maybe every mundane piece of earth we tread was once unfathomably important in a time immemorable.”

A faint smile came to the gentleman’s face. “You have a romantic’s heart, Mrs Darcy.”

“And just enough a mind for history to feel I can credibly support my claim,” rejoined Elizabeth.

“Not without leaning heavily on presumptions.”

“Do not forget, Mr Darcy,” she replied archly, “I have the liberty of being able to assert that a lack of evidence does not disprove my claim, since it hinges on such knowledge being lost. All the while being safe in the awareness that it is impossible to disapprove that a place has never been sacred in all the long years of the world.”

His smile seemed fonder, as he said “Ah, you are taking an unassailable and yet unprovable position.”

“Which is the cleverest stance to take” said Elizabeth, with sparkling eyes belying her serious tone, “if one never wishes to listen to anyone who disagrees with them.”

“And if they do not particularly care about being academic.”

Elizabeth laughed. “I cannot say being academic does matter to me; but listening to differing opinions and being open to changing my mind does. I should not seriously want to adopt such stances regularly.” Without her earlier jesting, she added “Truly though, there must be many locations forgotten. Between the Normans and the Saxons and Danes and Romans and all the Picts and the like who came before, if we overlaid all of their most important places atop one another I feel the isle would be fairly fully coloured.”

“Perhaps. But I think many of the sites would overlap,” said Mr Darcy thoughtfully. “Certain rivers and hills have attracted people for as long as people have existed to observe them. We cannot say the same for any random patch of dirt.”

“No, there may not be anything special about the dirt which draws people. But it only needs once to have been a hall, or a grave, or have been the location of a sacred tree, and then it has been important. Farmers in unremarkable fields are always finding old coins and shards of mosaic. Who is to say great things did not once happen on any random bit of soil?”

“No one living,” confirmed Mr Darcy. “But we have strayed far from the original premise of our conversation – and regardless of whether the soil its foundations descend into was once significant in ages past, that not does dictate whether this priory itself was ever particularly important beyond the local populace.”

“But we have established that it might have been, even though we have heard nothing of this priory before now,” replied she.

“Yes, which is to say that we established only that we know nothing at all and have no metrics by which to make fair assumptions.”

Apparently quite delighted by this ignorance, Elizabeth smiled, and leant against Mr Darcy. The familiar ground of their back-and-forth had done much for her in dispelling the anxiety treading the unfamiliar grounds a partiality for her husband had created. But before they could settle into their ignorance, one came along with the power to dispel it. The residing clergyman had perceived them from within, and, easily deducing them to be people of some importance on their way through, was eager to make their acquaintance and offer them a view of the interior.

They gratefully accepted, and as they were walking in Elizabeth said “Our first tour of a local church – we are proper travellers now, Mr Darcy.”

The gentleman made a slight noise of agreement. “In a place I have passed through dozens of times yet never truly explored. I have climbed the downs, but never investigated this priory.”

“Well, there you have it – something new for both of us on this journey.”

(To Be Continued in Chapter Forty)

The view Elizabeth and Darcy had of the priory:

A Wikipedia page for it here

[bluemirrorangel]

the DPS book & characterisation

so I'm reading the Dead Poets Society book and while I don't particularly like it all that much it has made some bold choices when it comes to the characters, some I really dislike and others I really love. I'm going to go over that in this post :)

Todd Anderson:

Todd is so much angrier than he is in the movie and honestly he’s so real for that. He and Neil actually don’t get along as much as they do in the movie, they don’t really get each other because they are in opposite situations, Neil’s father has too many expectations for him and controls his every move giving his son little to no agency whereas Todd's parents actively neglect him, they both want what the other one has to a certain degree; Todd wants someone to care about him and Neil wants freedom. 

The book also gets rid of the flying desk set scene and we instead get a more sombre scene 

“Todd?” He called, walking over to get a better look. Todd sat shivering in the dark about a coat. “What's going on there?”  Neil asked his roommate, Todd didn't answer. “Todd, what's the matter?” Neil sat next to him on the wall. “It's freezing out here.” “It's my birthday.” Todd said flatly. “It is?” Neil said. “Why didn't you tell me? happy birthday, You get anything?” Except for his chattering teeth Todd was silent and still. He pointed to a box. Neil opened it to find the same monogram desk set Todd had.In their room.”This is your desk set.”  Neil  said. “I don't get it.”  “They gave me the exact same thing as last year” Todd cried. “They didn't even remember.” “Oh” Neil said in a hushed tone. “Oh.” Todd mocked. “Well, maybe they thought you needed another one, a new one” Neil suggested after a long, awkward pause. “maybe they don't think at all. Unless it's about my brother” Todd said angrily. “His birthday is always a big to do”  He looked at the deskset and laughed. The stupid  thing is, I didn't even like it the first time.” “Look Todd you’re  obviously underestimating the value of this desk set”  Neil said flippantly trying to change the mood. “What?”  “I mean” Neil said and tried to smile. “This is one special gift. Who would want a football or a baseball bat or a car when they could have a desk set as  Wonderful as this one?” “Yeah.” Todd laughed, infected by nose humour.”And just look at this ruler” they both laughed. They both looked at the desk set. By now it was pitch dark and cold Neil  shivered.“You know what my dad would call me when i was growing up? Five ninety-eight. That’s what all the chemicals in the human body will be worth if you bottled them raw and sold them, he told me. That was all I'd ever be worth unless I worked every day to improve myself. Five ninety-eight.” Neil sighed and shook his head in disbelief. No wonder Todd was so screwed up, he thought. “When I was little” todd continued, “I thought all parents automatically love their kids. That's what my teachers told me. That's what I read in the books they gave me. That's what I believed, well, my parents rather have my brother, but they did not love me.Todd took a deep anguished breath and walked into the dorm. Neil sat motionless on the freezing Stonewall, groping for something to say. “Todd,” he called lamely. As he ran after his roommate. 

Todd is less shy and nervous in the book and more quiet and brooding which changes his dynamic with most of the characters specifically Neil.

Neil Perry:

 Neil is meaner in the book, not flat-out mean just meaner, this makes him feel more like a real teenager. His dynamic with Todd is still a friendship and they still mean a lot to each other but there’s more depth.

“So what do you think of my father?”  He asked blankly. “I'll take him over mine,” Todd said softly, almost to himself. “What?” Neil asked “Nothing” “Todd, If you're gonna make it around here, you've gotta speak up. The meek might inherit the earth but they don't get into Harvard know what I mean?” Todd nodded, holding a white button-down Oxford cloth shirt. Neil held the achievement pin in his hand as he spoke. “ The Bastard!” He shouted suddenly, jabbing his thumb with the metal pointed pin and drawing blood. Todd winced, but Neil just stared at the blood intently. He pulled the pin out. And hurled it against the wall. 

He also calls Cameron a jerk to Todd instead of saying ‘he was born with his foot in his mouth.’ like he does in the movie this paired with his comment about Todd being ‘messed up’ shows that Neil can be judgmental of his friends and peers, this being said Neil still cares deeply for his friends especially Todd; talking to him gently and trying to figure him out.

“By the way, there's a meeting this afternoon.”  Neil said, “Are you coming?” I guess, Todd said as he grimaced. Neil put down the play and looked over at his roommate. “None of what Mr Keating Has to say means anything to you, does it?” He asked, incredulous. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Todd was defensive “Being in the club means being stirred up by things. You look about as turn up as a cesspool” “You want me out? Is that what you're saying?” Todd said angrily. “No,” Neil, said softly. “I want you in, but it means you gotta do something. Not just say you're in.” Todd said angrily “Listen, Neil, I appreciate your interest in me, but I'm not like you,”  he insisted. “ “When you say things people pay attention, people follow you. I'm not like that.”  “Why not? Do you think you could be?” Neil Pressed. “No!” Todd shouted. “Oh, I don't know. I'll probably never know. The point is, there's nothing you can do about it. So, butt out, all right?  I can take care of myself just fine, alright” “No” Neil said “No?” Todd asked astonished. “What do you mean no,”  Neil shrugged matter of factly and repeated “No, I'm not going to butt out” Neil opened his play and began to read again. Todd just sat and stared at him. “OK”, todd said defeated “I’ll go.”  “Good” Neil smiled and continued reading the play.

Charlie Dalton:

 Charlie is more emotionally open in the book, he’s also a lot more annoyed by Knox’s Infatuation (obsession) on Chris.

“I feel like I've never been alive,” Charlie said sadly as he watched Neil  go. “For years I've been risking nothing. I have no idea what I am.Or what I want to do. Neil knows he wants to act. Knox knows he wants Chris” “Needs Chris?  must have Chris”  Knox groaned “Meeks,” Charlie said, “you're the brain here or did the dead poets say about somebody like me?” “The romantics were passionate experiment as Charles. They dabbled in many things before settling. If ever,” Meeks said. Cameron made a face. “There aren't too many places to be an experimenter at, Welton Meeks.” Charlie paces as the boys considered Cameron’s observation. He stopped and his face lit up. “I hereby declare this the Charles Dalton cave for passion experimentation.” He smiled. “In the future, anyone wishing entry must have permission from me.”  “Wait a minute, Charlie” Pitts objected. “This should belong to The club” “it should, but I found it now I claim it. Carpe cavem boys seize The Cave.”  Charlie

countered with a grin. “Good thing there’s only one of you around here Charles” Meeks said philosophically. 

Meeks & Pitts: they mainly stayed the same, however they gave Meeks’ poem about the Congo to Pitts and cut out Pitts’ poem about the man that killed his wife, they also have Meeks call Charlie Charles and I think that’s kind of cute.

Knox Overstreet:

Knox has no personality outside of his infatuation (obsession) with Chris, which is disappointing because they could have done more with his storyline, he’s the most athletic of the poets and has an awkward friendship with Ginny Danburry, his reason for not joining the society was that he didn’t really get it and I think they could have made him into a more interesting character by giving him more moments with Ginny and having him do more at the party than assault Chris, he could have brought all the poets and that would have been such an interesting plot point, having all the boys interact with public school students.

“Might as well sit down until dinner,” Ginny suggested in an awkward moment of silence followed. “Chet only Wanted the Buick so they can go parking.” She confided with a blush, not being able to think about anything to say. 

Richard Cameron:

Cameron’s betrayal in the book hits so much harder than in the film because he’s a real friend to the other poets, he’s the first and only one to ask where Todd is at their first study meeting, he calls a club meeting when Charlie asks him too, and he’s the most invested in Knox and Chris. Book Cameron also takes more indicative with the club, he reads from the poetry book something he doesn’t do in the movie. 

“Say what happened to Todd?” Cameron asked as they gathered up their books.” Said he wanted to do history,” Neil said. “Come on, Knox”, Cameron said.  “You’ll survive this chick. Maybe you'll think of something to win her love. Remember, seize the day,” Knox smiled. Got up from the couch and followed the boys to their rooms. 

Cameron took the book. “This is serious,” he said and began to read.

“You know what the dead poets would say” Cameron laughed, “Gather ye rosebuds while ye may…”

Cameron was still well-behaved and overly nervous but he felt like he genuinely cared about the others, kind of like Claire from Derry Girls. 

leave a ship or fandom suggestions for headcanons, fics or just questions in general and I'll do them if you want :)

[enchantedlandcoffee]

Hey guys! Happy 28th! As I couldn't do a december fic rec list, I thought I'd merge them into one so this will be a big one :)

---

Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

"Are there any gays in here?" by @red-pandaaa | red_panda28

Explicit | 7.9k | Strangers to Lovers Or, Louis is fed up with meaningless hook-ups, Harry happened to visit Starbucks on a Wednesday, and Clifford is the best

You smile all the time ('cause how can you not show it)? by @thebreadvansstuff | thebreadvan

Explicit | 9.5k | Dentist Louis Or, Harry never liked dentists, until now.

Blue Moon by @aquietlarrie

Explicit | 152.9k | Alternate Universe - 1950s it’s the late 50’s. times are ‘simple’. rock n roll is in full swing. vinyl, music and dancing are the primary ways of entertaining yourself, and in a time where loving someone of the same sex is illegal, two strangers catch each other’s eyes across a dancefloor and do just that. over the span of a year and in between two cities, harry and louis happen to find each other at just the right time. through a hot and heavy summer and a bitter winter, their journey is one of self; self discovery, self-acceptance and self love. this is a story of navigating sexuality in a time where man and woman are the only accepted forms of love by law, where learning to hide your love for someone becomes a matter of survival and safety. a story where above everything, they stick together and weather the storm. its hard, incredibly hard, but no matter the road, it's one worth taking

Tangled in your love and light by @likelarryfics | likelarry

Explicit | 95k | Kid Fic, Alpha Louis Tomlinson, Omega Harry Styles Harry doesn't have time for romance or finding an Alpha between balancing work, studying and looking after his daughter, Bella. Enter Louis Tomlinson who's a romantic sweet Alpha, determined to win the omegas heart and turns Harry's whole world upside down, making him question everything he's ever wanted and known.

Lost Cat, Found Love by @wemadethishome

General Audiences | 4.5k | Established Zayn Malik/Liam Payne, Mild Hurt/Comfort Louis hates cats. But when his neighbor's cat goes missing, he finds himself much more dedicated to finding the thing than he ever wanted to be.

The Wind It Held Us Up by @itsnotreal | hazzahtomlinson

Explicit | 14k | Alien Harry Styles, Scientist Louis Tomlinson Or Louis had a feeling there was life on other planets, he just hadn't expected to meet someone from one.

now i know what a fool i've been by @28goldens | 28goldensfics

Teen and Up Audiences | 16.8k | Enemies to Lovers, Christmas Fluff harry and louis had one really bad date last year. now they're snowed in at zayn's family's cabin alone the days leading up to christmas and louis' birthday. can they make up or will this be their last christmas together?

come as you are by @stylinsoncity

Mature | Alternate Universe - Academia, Professor Louis, Student Harry louis is a professor of literature at oxford and harry is his newest and most eager protege. both are caught in a story about forbidden love, loss and second chances, in which one is on the brink of heartbreak and the other comes along when he's needed most.

The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by @kingsofeverything

Explicit | 109k | Cheating, Older Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Alternate Universe - Beach, Meet-Cute Louis' life is steady and calm, moored by his marriage, and tied to his hometown, but after a chance encounter with another man, it'll never be the same.

Have Love, Will Travel by @kingsofeverything

Explicit | 97k | Camping, Friends to Lovers, Video Cameras Rather than spend the summer working at their desks, Louis and Harry are given the opportunity to crisscross the country together in a tiny camper, filming their adventures for a YouTube series. It soon becomes obvious to their viewers that there's something more than friendship between them. Eventually, they figure it out.

Probably still adore you (with your hands around my neck) by @lunarheslwt

Explicit | 13k | Persephone x Hades AU, Louis Tomlinson as Hades, Harry Styles as Persephone Or, after six cruel months of being separated, Persephone!Harry returns to his husband, Hades!Louis.

The Money Mark by @brightgolden

Explicit | 52k | Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Sugar Baby Harry Styles Or, where Louis is Harry's first sugar daddy who dumped him over text and their paths cross, seven years later.

Just You and I (a starry sky) by @justanothershadeofblue

Explicit | 7k | Christmas Fluff, Mpreg, Friends to Lovers "getting accidentally pregnant by his childhood best friend-with-benefits" was definitely not on Harry Styles' holiday to-do list - but apparently it's what has happened, so now he has to figure out how to tell Louis without ruining Louis' birthday, their family holiday, oh, and literally everything else about their lives. Oops?

kay's 25 days of smutmas series by shiptattou | @wecantalktomorrow

---

Niall Horan/Zayn Malik

If You Leave Me by @hellolovers13

Explicit | 5k | Alternate Universe - Vampire Niall spends too much time in his own head, almost breaking his (and Zayn's) heart in the process.

[cinderspots]

Do you guys ever think of how beautiful it is that even when you come and go, you live on?

Specifically, I'm talking about word and speech patterns. For me and several other people I know, when I am close with someone, I intake the things they say and make them a part of my vocabulary. Isn't that nice to know? That there is a forever inside joke between people you once knew and the ones you know now?

When I was a sophomore in high school, I knew these two girls, one a senior and one a junior. Now I am friends with said senior post high school, but at the time, I and her did not talk. But i adored the junior, who was best friends with the senior. Not in any sort of weird crush way but more like the friend crush, they are so cool type of thing- but the junior had a habit of saying "so true" in response to very serious or silly things with no remorse or impulse control before backtracking when they realized it wasn't appropriate- they told me that they started doing it because of the senior. And then even now, years later, I myself saying "so true" like a parrot who's repeating the words of an owner no more, but remembers all the same.

When I was even younger, a baby freshman, I was (to my undying embarassment) not only a wattpad enjoyer but a wattpad role player. If you don't know what that is- close your eyes and let yourself remain innocent young one. There was this one person I roleplayed with in particular @imsososolesbian that had a fixation on the oxford comma- that's right I wasn't born with the comma affliction- and after talking to them (with the // of real conversation before we immediately decided we'd rather just talk to each other than play pretend) I noticed that I had developed this habit of using the comma far far too much (the disease unfortunately is uncurable and set for life) because the speech pattern worked on me through text rather than talk. Me and that person don't talk anymore and that's really sad sometimes, but I like to think that maybe I gave them something back, like my tendency to leave auto cap on so all my texts start with a capital unless I'm on my computer. We pass each other like ships, and I try to check in, and they do the same, but we aren't quite as close as before. That's okay.

Also in Freshman year I became friends with a group of kids on my bus (it ends in tragedy and the familiar ridiculous high school drama) and this one girl in the group who was my age and shared chemistry with would spell out LOL with her hands and say the letters individually- to be ironic it occurs to me now, but back then I just thought it was funny. At first, when I adapted it into my vocabulary, I did it the same, but I found that my brain did not like moving my hand along with it, and so I just spelled it. LOL and LMAO were and still are my big offenders because I was not doing it to be ironic. That girl literally altered my brain chemistry, and I can not think of it another way. Because the things we take from others are changed in our care, but that doesn't make it any less shared.

Hearing Mariah Carey, who i actually did not care about before we had this tiff about her last Halloween, makes me think of @bee-nutauthor . Because it doesn't always spread the way i expect, the song, the name, the words themselves make me think of my friend. I don't look at art anymore and just think in legible thoughts, I eat art, I eat your praise, I bark at things I like a lot, I use abomination words that do not exist, I am extremely familiar with pompompurin because @dead-finch-420 a fixation, in fact Finch is my fixation spreader because theyre always dragging me into it. Isn't that nice too? To be thought of when someone enjoys media, to be remembered we long as that media exists and if not there in memory of it? Because the closer I am to someone, the worse it is. In all the other examples, I would describe the people I picked things up from as an acquaintance friend. Not particularly close, but close enough. When I see bugs, I first scream (loudly), and then I think, "Would Lemni like this?"When I watch horror or see the sky during the night, or view the snow as it falls, I think,"Would MJ like this?" I think and think and think and it's all because of these things, these words, the visions, and I see everyone I've ever known in everything there is to see.

In my Junior year I started to use the word "girl" and "girlie" because of a coworker that I grew very close to used it very very often on me, she also inflicted me with the "like" curse for its second round on my brain- it hasn't gone away since. We still talk because I can remember you when you're still here, which can be sad sometimes, but also comforting in a way. If I can remember you while you're here, I can remember you when you're gone.

@split-milk-7 Someone who I view to be my best friend has inflicted many vocabulary additions. We met on a re8 Miranda discord because Miranda lovers are so very rare, and we decided that of course we should be friends married and we are technically wife and spouse. But they had a particular fixation on using "bestie" to refer to me every other sentence. I am physically incapable of not using the word "bestie" in a sentence while talking aloud to people. I could not resist it. My brain decided it liked that word above all, and so here I am.

@h-doodles I was never someone who bit before I joined the meower server, filled with people who I consider to be my closest friends in the world - and I've never met a single one of them. I find that I like biting. I will think of them eternally as the meowers, for all our jokes will live in my head for years until I can no longer remember why I say these things, but I say them all the same. Because it's inevitable that you forget, but do they need to remember you for your words to live on? People will continue to say the things you said, and they may not know you gave that to them, but it will continue to spread the same way slang spreads eternally. It lives. @zeleneagle, I am not awake, I am an awaker. For some reason, I use :3 now. I bite because I love, and sometimes because angy, boi, floof, birb, borb, whatevah, music, movies, pictures, life, and death, it's everywhere.

To me, you are everywhere.

And I think that's beautiful in a way that I myself can not always appreciate, on the days when the world seems so dull and empty and unwelcoming and so not made for me. I think I should try and think of this when it gets like that, when my bed feels like the only place I can be safe. That the world is full of you and friends and love alongside the enemies and hate and sadness. And if the world is full of you, then doesn't that also mean it's full of me? That I might live on in others the same way you live on in me? That I made an impact on someone, however minor, that I mattered? That you mattered?

I wonder what I've given off to someone else to live on and be remembered for. I hope it wasn't something stupid like me saying people's names in a British accent and pronouncing it really wrong on purpose.

They might resent me a little for that

[britneyshakespeare]

I think everyone wants to own a complete works of Shakespeare and I want to get everyone a complete works of Shakespeare that is right for them

[gerec]

Hello, I just want to say thank you so much because you’re one of the main reason I’m back into the Cherik hole again after 8 years :Đ (I’m still having a lovely time here). Also, would you mind if I ask you for some fic recs of 1. Alternative first meeting where Erik and Charles meet/flirt with each other at the bar and 2. Smut fics that included dirty talk about breeding/pregnant kink but no actual mpreg. I know it’s a lot but I hope you could help :Đ Thank you so so much for still being here!

Hello darling Anon! Sorry for the delay; it took a while for me to search for recs based on your criteria! I've got some good ones for their first meeting at a bar, but I was only able to think of/find one fic with dirty talk that didn't include mpreg (the other one is rule 63). Anyway I'm so glad you're giving Cherik another go around it's wonderful to rediscover an old love :D :D :D Hope you enjoy!!!

First Meeting at a bar (there aren't many canon verse fics I know of, but there are many great aus):

In Plain Sight by Lenore

As it happens, Charles does know how it feels to hide who he is. A stranger in a pub sees right through him.

Bloodbound by ikeracity

Finding himself strapped for cash at the start of his senior year, Erik decides to become a donor at TypO, a blood bar where vampires come to drink fresh blood from consenting donors, safely and legally. There, he catches the eye of Charles Xavier, vampire, telepath, professor at Columbia, and quite possibly the most alluring person Erik's ever met. Their first meeting sets into motion a bond much deeper than they can understand, one that neither of them had ever expected.

Hitting If Off by niniblack

Erik meets the perfect guy at the bar. Too bad Mr. Perfect is on a date with someone else...

Twinks, Daddies & Bears. Oh my! by Villain

Charles is fresh back from Oxford and new to the gay scene in New York. On his first night out at the clubs with his best friend Hank, he sees the Big Bad Wolf; otherwise known as Erik Lehnsherr.

Punk Rock Boy by Not_You

Charles goes to a punk gig for an anthropology paper, and things get crazy.

A Telepath Walks Into a Bar by ximeria

Erik hates it when drunk idiots interrupt his flirting.

United We Stand, Divided They Fall by ximeria

The prompt was "the only two people at a bar rooting for the same football team au". And that's more or less what it is.

99 bottles of beer on the wall by orphan_account

It's been years since the accident that paralyzed Charles, leaving him wheelchair-bound and shattering his carefree life of drinking, sex, and loose telepathy. Raven finally guilt's Charles into going to a bar with her, only to have them run into a rather unsavory Mutant and Disability fetishist.

And One For Yourself? (Let Me Take You Home?) by meh_guh

Charles has had it with academia. He's sick of Boston, sick of teaching Bio 101, sick of Nathaniel Essex's guerrilla campaign against his lab time. So of course, the only thing to do is to move back to NYC and open a bar. It'll be a lark.

And Tony's there! Scads of guilt-free, friendly sex is never to be frowned upon.

Of course, the bewitching lunatic behind the bar complicates matters, but Charles is hardly new at seduction. He'll win Erik over in a matter of weeks.

A month at the outside.

Really.

Baby, You're A Hit by mutanitys (chekov)

"How to not make it up to the cute professor you mistakenly punched at a bar" by Erik Lehnsherr.

(Erik still punches the wrong guy, but this time the hospital doesn't seem to be an option.)

-------

Fics with dirty talk about breeding/pregnant kink:

serendipity by intentation

Charles runs into his professor at a sex club. How can he possibly resist?

Perfection by LadyLustful

Charlotte Xavier didn't think she would be into being bred but here she is, getting off on hearing how she's perfect and will give Erik perfect babies.

[sophieinwonderland]

Someone Having A Disorder Doesn't Make Them Qualified to Educate About That Disorder

Let me be clear: I believe that any person with a disability or mental condition has the ability and right to speak about that condition, and that their own personal experiences should be trusted and believed.

When this becomes dicey is when these individuals think simply having a condition makes them an expert in it, and that they are an absolute authority in all of its presentations.

This came up recently when debating a singlet who made a post stating endogenic plurality wasn't real. Their attempts at "debunking" studies into endogenic systems showed desperation to prove their point, ignoring the opinions of actual psychologists and psychiatrists. Most of their post was misinformation based on a single Carrd. The sources they cited never even claimed what they said they did.

That blog talks about a lot of disorders and I said in my response to them that I don't think other people should put their trust in them on matters of other disabilities they talk about like autism.

The problem with this user and others like them is that they want to be seen as an expert and are presenting themselves as such. And I'm sure they do know more about autism than plurality, having it themselves. But I'm also sure that they're going to make broad assumptions based on their own experiences and try to apply that to everyone with ASD when you can't do that, and they'll present those assumptions as facts.

I am not saying to not trust them as a member of an endogenic systems.

I am saying to not trust them as a member of a system diagnosed with ASD ourselves. I do not believe people like this are trustworthy sources of information for my disorder, nor any other disorder.

All of this was before their reply, which only solidified my earlier opinions, and then some.

This is one of those posts that is just so bad that I need to break it down piece by piece.

It's not unethical to be part of a demographic you're studying. People with ASD can study ASD. DID systems can study people with DID. Muslims can study Muslims. Native Americans can study Native Americans. And Tulpamancers can study tulpamancers. Being a tulpamancer does not invalidate the study in and of itself.

This was why I gave the Varieties of Tulpa Experiences study that they ignored. It is true that the study they're referring to, Tulpas and Mental Health, was written by a tulpamancer. This was the source they initially tried to "debunk." Furthermore, what they didn't mention is that the journal it was published in is less reputable than others, and the author was a student rather than an actual expert. This is why I don't often cite that one as an example of evidence of endogenic plurality.

In contrast, Varieties of Tulpa Experiences was written by a psychiatry professor at McGill University and was published by the highly esteemed Oxford University Press. There is zero question as to the Journal's credibility or the experience of the author.

Transabled people identify as having disabilities. No, tulpamancers and other non-disordered plurals are not, by definition, transabled. We are multiple, but we do not have DID or OSDD.

And for the record, I actually have studied plurality. I'm not formally educated in psychology or psychiatry and would never pretend to be an expert in such, but I'm confident I've read more papers about different presentations of plurality than this singlet who only cites Carrds and blogs as sources.

I also know the difference between neuroscience and psychology... And maybe this is a petty point, but the fact that all their posts claim to be about neuroscience while focusing mostly on psychology and psychiatry is another huge red flag that they probably don't know as much as they pretend to.

Now, to the big one...

If you're trying to be a leader on mental health topics, don't be so blatantly ableist!

If you place the worth of a person on how "intelligent" or "competent" they are, perhaps you shouldn't be in communities for people with mental illnesses and disabilities at all.

These are extremely harmful and gross comments.

What you (readers) should take away from this: Take all advice on Tumblr with a grain of salt.

Yes, even on this blog. Be skeptical. Ask questions. Think critically. Double check people's claims when you can.

Don't blindly assume that just because someone has a disorder, like Autism, that they must be an expert in that disorder and that they'll be able to answer all your questions. Trust their own experiences. But have a healthy doubt of any broader claims they can't source.

[s10127470]

My Wolverine and the X-Men Rewrite: Bonus Content

Hey there guys!

I’m back again with my Wolverine and the X-Men Rewrite!

But this is not exactly a part 3, but instead of a bonus feature of sorts.

Here, I’ll go over a few things I didn’t mention in the previous 2 part, along with some cool things at end.

This is gonna be a short one, but I think you guys will still enjoy it.

So without further ado, let’s get started!

-The outfits for Magneto and The Brotherhood would all be the same as they were in the original show.

-As for their physical appearances, they would be largely the same with the exception of Quicksilver, Domino and Toad. Quicksilver would have a more lean and athletic build, along with some slightly tanned skin. Domino, like I mentioned with the other females in this show, would be depicted as having more meat on her. And Toad, he’ll look the most different. His physical appearance would remain somewhat the same, except his hair is much shaggier and he stands at about 5’4. As for his outfit, it would be modernized version of his classic duds. Basically it would be the same outfit from Marvel Contest of Champions.

-Magneto and Quicksilver will be speaking with accents in this series. Magneto will have a German accent, while Quicksilver will have an Eastern European accent.

I briefly mentioned one of these in the previous part, but these are some of the notable relationships among the X-Men:

-Cyclops and Storm are close friends and work together as co-leaders of the X-Men.

-Cyclops, Beast, Iceman and Angel are all close to each other and deeply respect each other, since they were four of the five founding members of the X-Men.

-Cyclops is also pretty close friends with Colossus, who he sees as kind of a little brother (despite being a foot and 2 inches taller than him). This was largely because when Colossus first joined the team, he rather quiet and shy. When remembering his early days as an X-Men, Cyclops saw a lot of himself in Colossus and decided to take him under his wing.

-Storm and Angel, as we already know, are in a romantic relationship.

-Storm and Shadowcat are pretty close to each other, just like in the comics, with the latter seeing the former as a like a big sister.

-Storm and Iceman are also close, being able to relate to each other as the only other elemental mutants on the team. They even share tips with each other on how to better utilize their ice manipulation.

-Wolverine considers Beast to be one of his closest friends, due to them somewhat being able to relate to each other for their more….primal mutations.

-As usual, Wolverine and Nightcrawler are best buds.

-Nightcrawler is also close friends with Storm, Colossus and Shadowcat, like in the comics.

-Colossus and Iceman, like I mentioned in the previous post, have romantic feelings for each other.

-Iceman and Shadowcat are best friends, due to them being the youngest members of the team.

As for the causal attire of the team: 

-Wolverine, Storm, Beast, Emma, Angel and Shadowcat would all still be wearing the same outfits from the original shows.

-Cyclops would be wearing a navy blue sweater with rolled-up sleeves, with a yellow collared shirt underneath, tan khakis, and black Oxford shoes.

-Nightcrawler never got a casual outfit in the original show. But here; he’ll be wearing a red sweater with a indigo collared shirt underneath, black pants with an indigo belt, and a gold cross-pendant necklace.

-Colossus had the same ordeal as Nightcrawler. He’ll be wearing a red polo shirt, blue jeans with a black belt and black-and-white sneakers.

-Iceman would be wearing a blue Hawaiian shirt with an iceberg pattern scheme, light blue shorts, and black sandals.

-Forge would be wearing a light-blue sweater underneath one of the yellow and blue Xavier Institute jackets, blue jeans, and a pair of black-and-white sneakers.

And to wrap this all up, I have question to ask you all.

Remember those promos back during the original show’s run where they had Xavier give brief descriptions for the X-Men?

These ones right here.

Well I figured that out of fun, I do a version of those promos, but with the version I came up with!

Promo #1 (Yellow):

“I’m Professor Charles Xavier. Founder of the School for Gifted Youngsters.”

“One of my students is Logan.”

“A mysterious loner from Canada with an equally mysterious past, Logan was once a drifter with no purpose in life. But he would eventually find one with the X-Men.”

“With his heightened animalistic-like senses, accelerated healing factor, and razor sharp claws coated in the nigh-indestructible metal Adamantium, Logan has become one of the X-Men’s most valuable fighters.”

“His mutant name is Wolverine.”

“The X-Men are being reunited in X-MEN DESTINY!”

“January 23rd at 8!”

“Only on Nicktoons Network!”

Promo #2 (Blue):

“I’m Professor Charles Xavier. Founder of the School for Gifted Youngsters.”

“One of my students is Henry McCoy.”

“Blessed with superhuman strength and agility, that is matched only by his brilliant scientific mind, he is the calming voice of reason in this chaotic world. He is the brain and brawn of this team.”

“His mutant name is Beast.”

“The X-Men are being reunited in X-MEN DESTINY!”

“January 23rd at 8!”

“Only on Nicktoons Network!”

Promo #3 (Gold):

“I’m Professor Charles Xavier. Founder of the School for Gifted Youngsters.”

“One of my students is Kitty Pryde.”

“While she may not be as offensively capable as the other X-Men, her ability to turn her entire body intangible and phase through solid objects makes her a much-needed member of this team.”

“Her mutant name is Shadowcat.”

“The X-Men are being reunited in X-MEN DESTINY!”

“January 23rd at 8!”

“Only on Nicktoons Network!”

Promo #4 (Electric Blue):

“I’m Professor Charles Xavier. Founder of the School for Gifted Youngsters.”

“One of my students is Ororo Munroe.”

“Orphaned at a very early age in the streets of Egypt, she took to a life of crime until my students recruited her. Skilled at picking locks and hand-to-hand combat, she has the power to control the weather and the forces of nature.”

“Her mutant name is Storm.”

“The X-Men are being reunited in X-MEN DESTINY!”

“Every Friday Night at 8!”

“Only on Nicktoons Network!”

Promo #5 (Gray):

“I’m Professor Charles Xavier. Founder of the School for Gifted Youngsters.”

“One of my students is Piotr Rasputin.”

“A humble farm boy from Russia, Piotr was recruited by me personally to join the X-Men. His power to turn his skin into organic steel, granting him superhuman strength and resilience in the process, has made him this team’s resident powerhouse.”

“His mutant name is Colossus.”

“The X-Men are being reunited in X-MEN DESTINY!”

“Every Friday Night at 8!”

“Only on Nicktoons Network!”

Promo #6 (Icy Blue):

“I’m Professor Charles Xavier. Founder of the School for Gifted Youngsters.”

“One of my students is Bobby Drake.”

“A reckless boy when I discovered him, Bobby’s immaturity and arrogance is sometimes his downfall. But his ability to change the moisture in the air into ice, and use it against our enemies, is the reason we need him.”

“His mutant name is Iceman.”

“The X-Men are being reunited in X-MEN DESTINY!”

“Every Friday Night at 8!”

“Only on Nicktoons Network!”

Promo #7 (Indigo):

“I’m Professor Charles Xavier. Founder of the School for Gifted Youngsters.”

“One of my students is Kurt Wagner.”

“The German circus performer was personally recruited by myself to join the X-Men. His power of teleportation, expert swordsmanship, and ability to become nearly invisible in shadows, makes him a true asset to this team.”

“His mutant name is Nightcrawler.”

“The X-Men are being reunited in X-MEN DESTINY!”

“Every Friday Night at 8!”

“Only on Nicktoons Network!”

Promo #8 (White):

“I’m Professor Charles Xavier. Founder of the School for Gifted Youngsters.”

“This is one of my teachers.”

“Mysterious and beautiful, she has taught young mutants for years, even opening her own institution. Her telepathic powers and ability to turn her skin into a diamond-like substance, make her a crucial ally to ours team’s mission to save the world.”

“Her name is Emma Frost.”

“The X-Men are being reunited in X-MEN DESTINY!”

“Every Friday Night at 8!”

“Only on Nicktoons Network!”

Promo #9 (Red):

“I’m Professor Charles Xavier. Founder of the School for Gifted Youngsters.”

“One of my students is Scott Summers.”

“Once the confident leader of the X-Men, he has become depressed by the loss of his true love. But he’s since returned to the role to keep fighting the good fight. He has the ability to project powerful beams of concussive energy from his eyes. The X-Men’s mission to save the world cannot be complete without their leader.”

“His mutant name is Cyclops.”

“The X-Men are being reunited in X-MEN DESTINY!”

“Every Friday Night at 8!”

“Only on Nicktoons Network!”

[andthebubbles]

(from smooth-boob) 🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share? I couldn't resist!

i can't believe i'm doing this

here's almost the entire first chapter of a/b fic (there's meant to be a flashback at the end of 2 y/o anthony running away and meeting his adoptive parents, but i haven't written it yet 😇)

for passersby who don't know what this is about: this is the fic where anthony runs away when he's 2 years old, accidentally boards a ship that leaves england, gets adopted by nice parents, eventually forgets that he's a bridgerton, doesn't come back to live in england until he's 13; meets benedict at oxford in 1806 and they start a relationship. if this bothers you, do not read below the cut (it contains smut), just move on, don't send me hate, i am a real person

(i should start copypasting the summary and disclaimer lol)

-

Benedict meets the love of his life one ordinary autumn evening in an Oxford pub. 

He doesn’t know that yet of course; he’s never been a big believer of love. Thus far he’s found it entirely consigned to the great epics of the ancients, the tragic tales of Shakespeare, even King Char and King George, loving in their madness, loving despite no rhyme nor reason, loving when they should have no right. But then, surrounded by his peers who he does not care very much for, a Lord Fife and a Lord Cho and the second son of a baron and the third son of an earl whose names he does not care to remember, he looks up over his glass of beer and finds a finely dressed gentleman making his way over to them. 

And his heart skips a beat.

“I hear you’re the best coxswain and crew out of all the undergraduates,” the gentleman says, loudly enough to halt their conversation, with no introduction of himself whatsoever. He has dark eyes and dark hair, lush with a hint of wave, curling over his forehead and pushed to one side. 

Benedict hurriedly sips his drink.

“What of it, Mr.…?” Lord Fife eyeballs him.

“I'd like to place a wager on your winning the next race,” the gentleman rests a casual, black-gloved hand on their table. “On one condition.”

Fife raises his eyebrows. “What’s that, then?”

“I’m the coxswain for the crew.”

Silence. Then the table laughs uproariously, Benedict excluded. 

The gentleman has a glint in his eyes, a tilt of his head befitting a lord. Arrogant. Attractive. His nose is straight, aristocratic, and his lips—

Smirking. Thin and pink, but full.

“My good man,” Fife finally says around chortles. “We don’t even know your name.”

“Nor have we seen you around, have we, lads?” Cho looks about pompously. “Are you a first year?”

“You’ve got me,” the mystery man straightens, tipping his top hat, impeccably smug. “A first year, looking for a crew befitting my talents. The best crew. Third years. Well-seasoned. You.”

“And… your name?” Fife drawls. 

“Bailey. Anthony Bailey.” The gentleman holds his hand out.

Fife glances around at them all rather than taking it. “Hmm, Bailey, do we know a Bailey?”

A chorus of shaking heads. 

Fife’s gaze sharpens. “What’s your father’s name? Where are your estates?”

At this, Bailey tilts his chin up. “My father is a merchant. And our estate is a shop in Bloomsbury. Which I’m sure you wouldn’t know of, since all you lords seem to learn is which of your first cousins has the biggest dowry so you can fuck them till you sire an heir—”

Fife punches him in the stomach, and the others set upon him like dogs, and Benedict yells and grabs the closest man to him, the second—or was it third?—son of a baron, whoever he is—

But heroic tales where justice is served are consigned to the epics, are the stuff of fairytales, have no place in reality. So the merchant is tossed out onto the cobblestone street, and the door slammed shut against the sudden autumn rains. 

-

Benedict slips out the back door under the pretence of taking a piss outside.

The merchant is in a nearby alleyway taking shelter under the arch of a doorway. He has a cut on his cheekbone that he dabs at with a handkerchief; he puts it away with a mostly concealed wince when Benedict approaches. 

They stare each other down like two fighters forced into the ring. Benedict’s heart aches; the merchant looks so tired.

“If you must punch me,” he says at last, looking away, “I would be grateful if it wasn’t in the same place twice. So, the stomach is off-limits. As is my eye. And my nose, though it hasn’t been punched, but I have plans with a special someone tonight, and I’d rather it not look bloody or broken.” He pauses. “Come to think of it, you should probably stay away from my face altogether.”

Benedict’s mouth twitches. “I’m not going to punch you.”

“Oh, that’s a relief.” It’s very droll. “You lot seem to have trouble doing anything but.”

“You… seem to know our prejudices well? The upper class?”

“Well, you rather like buying the things we make. You just don’t like it as much when we dare to step out of line or try to better ourselves or forget our lot in life.”

Benedict approaches him, cautious, like he would with a wild animal. Or a wounded one. “We were once like you, generations ago. Mere landowners. Until the crown granted us a title.”

“And how many generations ago was that, my lord?” The man’s voice drips with disdain.

Benedict winces. “Nine. I’m… I’m the ninth. In my family.”

The merchant looks sidelong at him in the lantern light, up and down, Benedict suddenly conscious of his finery, and the merchant’s coarser fabrics and simple brocade waistcoat indiscernible in the dimness of the pub earlier. 

“So…” The merchant’s eyes drift back up to his face. “You’re an… earl?”

“Viscount.”

“So your father is an earl?”

Benedict swallows. “My father is dead.”

Rain pitter-patters on the cobblestones. Benedict’s fingers, lungs suddenly itch for a smoke.

“I’m sorry.”

Benedict almost smiles. “I’m surprised you have any sympathy left for us.”

“I’m not completely heartless. I know that death doesn’t care how rich or poor you are, how titled or how bottom-of-the-barrel you are. Once gone, the dead are all the same. Sorely, terribly missed.”

“Quite right.” Benedict’s mouth has gone dry. After a moment he holds his hand out. “I realise I haven’t introduced myself. Benedict Bridgerton.”

The merchant raises his eyebrows, a smirk playing on his lips. “The Right Honourable The Viscount Bridgerton?”

“Or just Benedict,” he grins. “I’m not fond of the title.”

“Then call me just Anthony.” He firmly shakes his hand, leather against warm skin. His eyes up close under the shadow of the doorway are near black, bottomless and blown wide.

Their gazes hold like puzzle pieces interlocked, clicking forever into place.

Benedict clears his throat, titillatingly unable to let go of his hand. “Do you have somewhere to be? You uh… mentioned having plans with a special someone?”

Anthony moves closer, impossibly so. “I noticed your staring in the pub.”

Benedict laughs, slightly desperately and high-pitched. “So you’re not the best coxswain in Oxford after all? You just… wanted me?”

“Why can’t it be both?” Anthony’s voice is intoxication against his lips. “I’m the best coxswain, and you’re my special someone?”

“Even when you thought I was going to punch you?”

“Well, I fervently hoped you would not.”

Anthony slides a hand under his jacket to rest against his hip; Benedict sucks in a breath like he’s starved of air. “Do you have some place we could go?”

-

Anthony cages him up against the door to his room and uses their combined weight to slam it shut. “Sorry about the mess.” He locks it and lights a taper on the nearby table, then licks a stripe up Benedict’s neck. 

Hand fisting in Anthony’s hair against the sensation (and Anthony moaning into his mouth), Benedict has the barest second to look over his shoulder. Anthony’s room is organised clutter: books and papers on the desk by the window, spare candles on the shelf, more papers scattered on the badly-made bed. 

“It’s not so bad,” Benedict says. “In fact I’m quite sure I’ve seen worse—”

Anthony kisses his words away like he’s ravenous, like they’re both running out of time. He drags Benedict by his shirt front over to his bed and Benedict falls onto it willingly, Anthony climbing atop him, caging him once more.

“You’ve seen worse?” Anthony grins, punctuates it with more kisses to the underside of his jaw. “Dare I ask where?”

“Well, when you have siblings…” 

“I don’t. I have a mother and father, six freeloading stray cats, and about double that for the number of people I’ve had at some point or another in my bed.”

“People? Not men, specifically?”

“Men, women, and everything in between. And now, you.” It should sound callous; instead Anthony sounds almost reverent. He pulls his lips away from Benedict’s earlobe and extraordinarily gently unties and pulls off his cravat. Breath caught in his throat, Benedict reaches up and does the same for him. 

Anthony’s cravat, unlike the duller colours of his waistcoat and jacket, is dyed a rich indigo blue.

“Mmf.” He impatiently pushes up Benedict’s waistcoat and shirt to get to the skin beneath, laying his hands everywhere, simultaneously trying to help Benedict with shucking off his own clothes. His jacket and waistcoat and boots are discarded on the floor; Benedict grabs his wrist when he gets to his leather gloves.

“Keep them on,” he says, hoarse.

Anthony’s gaze darkens, unfathomable pools of black. “What have you in mind?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, his other hand sliding down and unbuttoning Benedict’s trousers, Benedict gladly lifting his hips to help Anthony push them down to his knees. “Your fingers,” Benedict says breathlessly, “in my arse—”

“Fingers?” Anthony smirks. “Rather confident of you.” He puts his index finger in his mouth, sucking and coating it with spit.

Benedict takes his hand from his mouth and guides it to his own, lapping around two fingers, tasting warm slick leather, Anthony trembling in his hold. 

“Fuck.” With his free hand he takes Benedict and strokes him to full hardness, Benedict groaning at the sensation of leather on his cock, the back of his head hitting the mattress and Anthony’s fingers sliding out.

He pushes Benedict’s legs up, finally rids him of his trousers and boots and tosses them to the floor. “This all right?” He circles his entrance and Benedict bites his lip, settling his heels on Anthony’s back. 

“Yes—”

Anthony pushes in.

Benedict’s eyes nearly roll back in his head. “Fuck.”

“And you wanted fingers,” Anthony teases.

“Hush—”

Anthony crooks his finger and hits his prostate, and Benedict cries out. 

“Shh.” Anthony leans over him, keeps fingerfucking him, kisses away his whimpering, Benedict pulling him closer and roughly tangling his fingers in his hair.

“Fuck.” Now Anthony’s breaths turn ragged; he pulls back a fraction, panting against Benedict’s mouth. Glances down at Benedict’s cock between them, and the corner of his mouth lifts. “You’re going to come without me touching you?”

Benedict groans, cupping Anthony through his trousers, heat pooling in his stomach and groin, “I’m not that green,” he says between gritted teeth. 

Anthony grunts and eases a second finger in, scissors, fucks him, curls them just so, and Benedict chokes, pants, and comes undone just like that, almost incognisant of it, gasping in bliss and relief and mild embarrassment, Anthony kissing him open-mouthed and lazily and his hand working him through till he’s spent. 

Then he mouths his way down till he’s at his stomach, and cleans his come-splattered skin with his tongue.

Heat radiates raw and anew between Benedict’s legs.

“Can I suck you off?” 

It comes out rough, awed; Anthony looks up at him startled. “You… you want to?”

Benedict nods. 

He sits up after a moment, all of him shaky, turning Anthony so that his back rests against the wall. Anthony is still staring at him, loose-limbed and wide-eyed; Benedict tugs his trousers down and pushes apart his thighs. 

“You… you don’t have to,” Anthony stutters.

Benedict looks up at him, one hand on his length. “Do you want me to?”

Anthony bites his lip and nods.

The first taste is salty, Anthony’s cock already tipped with pre-cum. Then it’s just sheer musk; Benedict adjusts so that the flat of his tongue is on the underside and gets up on his hands to swallow him whole. 

“Oh—” Anthony’s fingers, toes curl; he quickly sets the gentlest hand in Benedict’s hair. “Oh, fuck…”

Benedict starts fucking him, fondling his balls gently, pressing down hard on Anthony’s hips when he involuntarily jerks. “Fuck, sorry—”

Benedict sucks him hard and Anthony keens, sliding further down the wall, fingertips fluttering at the nape of Benedict’s neck. 

Benedict swipes his tongue over the head, bobs up and down, finds Anthony’s other hand fisting the sheets and slides his own underneath to hold it tightly in his. “Fuck, I’m—I’m going to—” Anthony gasps, tugging at his hair, warning him off; Benedict holds fast.

Anthony’s come hits the back of his throat, salty and bitter and hot. Benedict swallows it all, nips the insides of his trembling thighs when he’s done; Anthony curves over him and drags his lips against his temple and pulls him up, kissing him like a man starved, kissing him like Benedict hung the moon and the sun and the stars.

Benedict pulls them both down to the bed when he starts to catch his breath, lying side by side, face to face; he caresses Anthony’s cheek, removes his gloves, slides his hand down past his sweat-damp open collar and feels his pounding heart. “You all right?” he murmurs. 

Anthony lifts his eyes to his, still breathing hard, brushing his nose against his. “Yes. Are you?”

Benedict grins. “More than.”

Anthony closes his eyes and contentedly hums.

After a moment he opens them again, something small and hopeful and anxious now threading through him like a childhood fear of the dark. “Will you stay awhile?” he whispers. 

Benedict blinks. Quickly eases into a smile. “Of course.”

He settles beside him; Anthony pulls him towards his chest with an arm over his shoulders, rests his head atop his. 

Outside, the pitter-patter of rain continues to fall.

[master-john-uk]

Hurrah! A victory for common sense!

Following criticism of English cricket as being elitist and discriminatory, the MCC who own Lord's Cricket Ground decided to relocate these two historic fixtures and offer a wider range of people the chance to play at the ground. Last year, MCC President Stephen Fry spoke in support of the changes and said they would help challenge a "turgid image of snobbery and elitism."

Although opinion is divided, a significantly large number of MCC members (including myself) protested against the decision which led to a postponement of a vote on the issue, an apology from the Lord's executive and a wider consultation on the matter.

Rather than risk further backlash and, in an attempt to heal the rift between members, the MCC has made a pragmatic decision to cancel the vote and allow these cricket matches to continue until at least 2027. A further consultation will then gauge the opinion of members in four years time, before any further decisions are made on this matter.

[In my opinion... I agree that cricket was (and still is) guilty of snobbery and discrimination, but I believe that big steps forward have been made in tackling this issue in recent years. Inclusivity. These two historic cricket fixtures have little impact in procluding other events being played at Lord's. This is proved by yesterday's announcement which stated that organisers of other competitions will be invited to stage fixtures at Lord's from 2024. History. The Eton vs Harrow cricket is the oldest cricket fixture in the world that is still regularly played. MCC Chief Executive Guy Lavender has conceded that, "History is more important to Lord's than it is to probably any other cricket ground in the world." Finance. I know how expensive it is to maintain a small office building in Central London... The cost of running a venue like Lord's makes my eyes water! I doubt that Lord's Cricket Ground could afford to lose the revenue generated in their hospitality suites, restaurants and bars at the Varsity and Eton/Harrow days... although the MCC executive will never admit this publicly. With the prices they charge, I doubt if they will make any profit from an inter-school one day cricket tournament!]