#simpler times (such as being too young to care)

[imorynn]

༊*·˚ ━━━ ¡ AVIS AMBERG • FEM!READER HEADCANONS !

༊*·˚ warnings : fluff & SMUT ( MDNI 18+ )

༊*·˚ tags : @thoroughly--confused @weemswife @urdaddddd69 @mrsines @confuseuniverse @kenzie-floops @evilregal2002 @alicemaximoff @angeliccss @multixfan @spicyredbitch @ofgoldandbraid @nutritionat @bigbaddoctorwolfe @mgruiz @cultiest @aggieharkness @amethyst-bitch @im-a-carnivorous-plant @likealayka @emilynissangtr @gilmoresliarss @jessicaslittlelovesickmess @gayestswiftie @delusionaforolderwomen @greek-freak101 @justasmallfellow @hotmilfyfrap @thegoddamnfeels @lalchimiedecupid @liliastriangle @czl4t @vii-v @asimpforwomen @daddyriovidal ( those who liked / wanted to be tagged !)

༊*·˚ author’s note : this was so enjoyable to do 😭😭 the list is quite lengthy — and there was so much more to bring together, lol. I hope this is enjoyable to read and that I somewhat did Patti LuPone’s character, Avis Amberg justice with these headcanons ! Lemme know your thoughts ! Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate ! 🍂 Mwuah !! <33

SFW :

༊*·˚ AVIS AMBERG is incredibly careful about your rendezvous, choosing discreet locations like upscale hotels or isolated spots far from prying eyes.

༊*·˚ Her visits to the Golden Tip Gasoline are calculated, never too frequent or predictable, to avoid raising suspicion — especially when it comes to being seen with a young gal such as yourself.

༊*·˚ Important, fleeting note : you’re the first female to work in the Golden Tip Gasoline.

༊*·˚ When Ernie sends a note your way that a favored and certain customer of his was willing to pay double of what was usual to maintain discretion and to steal a moment with you, you knew by that smirk and glint in his eyes that you couldn’t say no.

༊*·˚ Avis is a woman who knows the power of her allure, no matter her age.

༊*·˚ Flustered — you’re indeed very fucking flustered the first time especially given her STRAIGHTFORWARDNESS, yet it’s endearing to her.

༊*·˚ You do love how blunt she is though and eventually get used to it.

༊*·˚ She wants to do it again, and you would be lying ( and fucking stupid ) if you said you didn’t want to — 3 to 4 ‘acts of services’ of exhilaration and fun escalated to a full-on affair.

༊*·˚ She flirts effortlessly with you, her smoky voice dropping to a whisper whenever she addresses you, her lips always curving into a faint, knowing smile while basking in the way you flush at her words.

༊*·˚ ESPECIALLY WITH THE NICKNAMES SHE CALLS YOU —

༊*·˚ “ Darling girl,” “mama’s girl,” “doll,” “sweetheart,” “kitten,” “you little minx” “darling”

༊*·˚ Or when the faint yet pigmented traces of her red lips taint your cheeks, your jawline, your temple, or trail along your neck and collarbone — SHE BEAMS WITH PRIDE AND SATISFACTION WHILE ALL YOU CAN DO IS JUST STARE AT HER WITH A STUPID LOVESICK SMILE. ( this is fucking headcanon for Lilia Calderu as well — DISAGREE WITH ME IF YOU DARE. )

༊*·˚ Avis loves teasing you. CANNOT resist gently poking fun at you, whether it’s the way you blush under her gaze or stumble over your words when she leans in too close. Her teasing is always playful, her tone laced with affection.

༊*·˚ She brings touches of her opulent life into your world. Perfume lingering on the clothes she’s discarded, the soft leather of her handbag brushing against your arm, or the way she lights a cigarette with a gold lighter — it’s a stark contrast to your simpler life and a reminder of the gap between you.

༊*·˚ 100 % a good and attentive listener !!!

༊*·˚ Despite the differences in your worlds, Avis genuinely wants to know about your thoughts, dreams, and past. When you speak, she watches you closely, her brown gaze unwavering, her attention making you feel more seen than you’ve ever been.

༊*·˚ From the way your fingers fidget with the hem of your shirt when you’re nervous to the way your voice becomes faint when you’re tired, she’s attuned to all your quirks. She has a sharp eye for detail, and while she doesn’t always mention these observations, her actions show she’s paying attention.

༊*·˚ You remind her she’s more than her reputation. Avis is used to being seen as a symbol of wealth, power, or beauty, but she loves when you make her feel like a person. A woman. Someone who’s flawed, complex, and deeply loved for who she is—not what she represents.

༊*·˚ Show her that she’s cherished, even in small ways.

༊*·˚ Avis adores the little things you do to show your devotion — like carrying something for her, warming her hands with yours, or whispering her name in a way that’s just for her. Or even small love-written notes you may sneak into her purse or leave behind.

༊*·˚ It’s in these gestures that she feels truly adored.

༊*·˚ You make her smile. Like, truly, REALLY smile, cheekbones slightly accentuated — there’s this smoldering depth in her eyes when she looks at you as you speak or does something, and when you catch her looking at you like that, your brain just cuts circuits and you feel yourself melting into a puddle because what the fuck —

༊*·˚ In her world of facades and half-truths, your openness is refreshing. Even when you hesitate or stumble over your words, she appreciates the sincerity in everything you say.

༊*·˚ Admires how you respect her boundaries!! Avis values your understanding of her limits. She loves that you don’t push her to share more than she’s comfortable with or question the life she’s built outside of your relationship. Your respect for her choices deepens her trust in you.

༊*·˚ Expect to hear her talk shit about people, even those she loves ( Ellen included, sorry pooks —), in the industry — and expect her to be RIGHT because her words are not spoken without blunt TRUTH. You never disagree with her, although you do shed slight light depending on who it is ( except Ace. Fuck Ace. )

༊*·˚ Though she’d never admit it, Avis is sentimental about your affair. A small book you’d been reading in the passenger seat of her car, the handkerchief you left at her hotel once—all these small things find their way into her collection of keepsakes.

༊*·˚ Avis isn’t outwardly possessive, but there’s an edge to her when she perceives competition. If she catches a whiff of you being overly friendly with someone else, her smiles get tighter, and her touches that night are more deliberate, as if reasserting her claim.

༊*·˚ She pays Ernie fucking extra for your attention to only be provided for her.

༊*·˚ You have to make it clear on more than one occasion that she does not have to pay for your attention, when she’s already captured it entirely —

༊*·˚ You seek her approval and praise. When she throws a compliment or words of advice your way, you greedily and most eagerly consume that into your brain and heart.

༊*·˚ While Avis does here and there tease and dangle the age card on you, you trust and deeply value her judgment, her choice of words, her opinions, and thoughts, and not just because she is someone you adore and become a literal hole for, but because she IS Avis Amberg, a regal and intelligent woman who’s walked the earth longer than you have.

༊*·˚ She more than anyone understands the things one must do and sacrifices one must make to survive in this world. She understands why you do what you do — such as work at the Golden Tip Gas.

༊*·˚ “You’re smarter than this place, doll. Don’t let it keep you boxed in.”

༊*·˚ It’s her way of lifting you up while reminding you that she sees your potential beyond that place.

༊*·˚ Definitely encourages you to pursue your dreams, and depending on what your ideal career is, she will push and pull at strings so her girl can get one step ahead to where she wants to be.

༊*·˚ Avis definitely fusses over you sometimes. If she notices you’ve been overworking or looking too tired, she might hand you a flask of expensive whiskey or tuck a crisp bill into your shirt pocket with a teasing comment about taking care of yourself.

༊*·˚ Avis is NOT afraid to show you tough love. Does not like to sugarcoat things. Her maternal streak doesn’t mean she’ll coddle or indulge weakness. She’ll tell you the truth, even if it’s hard to hear, but her words are always laced with an undercurrent of care.

༊*·˚ Not only supports but pushes you, and it’s because she believes in your potential and wants you to succeed. “You’re strong, don’t let the world treat you like a little bitch, darling.”

༊*·˚ You smother her with affection, SHE SMOTHERS YOU WITH GIFTS.

༊*·˚ The first time she gives you something, you’re hesitant to accept it. Her brow arched, a soft laugh escaping her as she leaned closer to murmur, “It’s for me as much as it is for you, kitten. Humor me, won’t you?”

༊*·˚ Avis knows you might hesitate to accept her generosity, given your position and hers. She always reassures you with a soft smile and a murmured, “It’s nothing, darling. Let me take care of you.” Or , “Don’t argue with me. Mama likes to spoil her girl.”

༊*·˚ A novel by an author you may have mentioned in passing, or a scarf in your favorite color, or a bracelet with a charm that carries a secret significance between the two of you, she’ll get it for you.

༊*·˚ When you proudly wear or use something she’s gifted with gleam, those brown pools of hers shimmer with unmistakable pride. She may trail her fingers along the edge of the fabric she bought for you or comment softly, “You make it look better than I imagined.”

༊*·˚ She sometimes indulges in a more extravagant gift — a pair of earrings, a silk dress, or something that feels out of reach for your world. When she does, her tone is casual, as though it’s no trouble for her to provide such luxuries, but her eyes gleam with satisfaction when she sees your stunned expression.

༊*·˚ Avis is a proud woman, and though she’s not one for grand declarations, she doesn’t like it when you question her affections. “Must I always remind you how much you mean to me?” she’ll say with a soft sigh, cupping your chin to force you to look her in the eye.

༊*·˚ There’s a touch of insecurity on your part. Being with someone as poised and powerful as Avis can feel overwhelming. Sometimes you wonder why she’s with you, a nobody compared to her glamorous life. But she has a way of dispelling your doubts with a single look or a soft-spoken reassurance.

༊*·˚ While Avis trusts your independence, she doesn’t take kindly to anyone mistreating you. If she senses someone’s being disrespectful, her words turn sharp, her demeanor icy, as she swiftly puts them in their place.

༊*·˚ She HATES leaving you after stolen hours with one another. Parting way is always the hardest for Avis. Though she masks it well, there’s a flicker of hesitation in her eyes every time she has to walk away, as if she’s silently wishing she could stay longer. ( those brown eyes of her soft and warm and SAD while her red-tinted lips frown as she stares at you, touches lingering, pecks to your cheek frequent, longer than the last before she departs — UGH. )

༊*·˚ You despise Ace. Period. It physically pains you that she has to go back to the man called her husband — the man with far more power than you could ever have. A MAN for Christ’s sake. Your jealousy — and despise — is both endearing but somewhat common to Avis.

༊*·˚ You bring out a softness in her. With you, Avis lets herself relax in ways she doesn’t elsewhere. She enjoys quiet moments together—sharing a cigarette, lying side by side in silence, or just watching the way you look at her like she’s the only, most precious person in the world. She tends to forget what it feels like, being looked at in that way, feeling that way. ( poor baby —)

༊*·˚ She ADORES how you notice the small things. Whether it’s a new piece of jewelry she’s wearing, the way her hair is slightly styled differently, or even just a minor change in her tone, Avis is deeply flattered when you pick up on the details. She loves being seen by you.

༊*·˚ She knows when you’re upset. You can’t hide your emotions from Avis. If you’re feeling down or anxious, she has a way of coaxing it out of you with a quiet patience that makes you feel safe.

NSFW !!!

༊*·˚ AVIS AMBERG THRIVES in control — a tantalizing balance of tender and firm.

༊*·˚ In the bedroom, this translates into her taking the lead with a firm but sensual dominance. She delights in directing your actions, telling you how to touch her, how to undress, or how to position yourself for her pleasure. She enjoys you being obedient, and your eagerness to please only enhances her desire.

༊*·˚ She might instruct you to undress in front of her slowly, letting her take in every inch of your body, her gaze deliberate and appreciative.

༊*·˚ “Good girl,” she’d breathe out, her voice a velvet-like mix of approval and arousal, as you follow her instructions without hesitation.

༊*·˚ She relishes in control though tempers it with a warmth that makes you feel safe, adored, and completely hers.

༊*·˚ She’s a MASTER of seduction.

༊*·˚ Avis takes her time with foreplay, savoring the build-up as much as the act itself. Her lips, her hands, and her voice are all tools in her arsenal, and she knows exactly how to wield them to leave you breathless.

༊*·˚ Avis would be drawn to your reverence for her. Your willingness to treat her like a goddess would resonate deeply, feeding her need to feel adored and desired in ways she doesn’t receive in her conventional life.

༊*·˚ Babygirl isn’t one to rush, if you’re eager to get to it, she manages to get you to slow down with those eyes and red lipped smirk of hers. Whether it’s the slow drag of her lips down your neck or the way your fingers explore every inch of her skin, she likes for one to take their time, as though committing the feel of one another to memory.

༊*·˚ Quiet isn’t her issue! Avis isn’t afraid to let you know how much she’s enjoying herself — very vocal. Her moans are soft yet commanding, her whispered praises intoxicating. She’s also insistent on hearing you, encouraging every gasp and groan with murmured affirmations.

༊*·˚ She DEMANDS your focus. When you’re with Avis, she expects your UNDIVIDED attention. She’ll gently guide your hands to where she wants them or softly command you to look at her, ensuring every moment is intentional and shared.

༊*·˚ She enjoys hearing how beautiful, powerful, and sensual she is, and she’d savor how eagerly you want to please her.

༊*·˚ You kiss every inch of her body, whispering how divine she is, how much you want to please her, and how lucky you feel to have her.

༊*·˚ “That’s it, darling,” she’d exhale, fingers threading into your hair when you’d kneel before her. “Show Mama how much you adore her.”

༊*·˚ While Avis exudes control and dominance, she would also crave moments where she can let her guard down.

༊*·˚ With you, someone younger and fresh with possibility, she’d explore the thrill of trusting someone to take care of her—even if only briefly.

༊*·˚ On rare occasions, she’d allow herself to lean into your arms, guiding your hand to undress her or worship her body as she sits / lays back, watching you with a mix of amusement and surrender.

༊*·˚ Avis lives for the thrill of secrecy.

༊*·˚ The illicit nature of your rendezvous adds an irresistible tension that heightens her arousal.

༊*·˚ She delights in taking risks — stolen touches in public spaces, breathy moans silenced into the palm of her hand, and the ever-present danger of discovery.

༊*·˚ During galas or social events, she’d brush her fingers against your waist, whispering heated promises in your ear about what she’ll do to you later.

༊*·˚ QUICKIES OCCUR WITH AVIS. I JUST KNOW IT IN MY BONES. Sometimes, when time is short, she’ll pull you into her car and park in the nearest empty parking lot— DOES NOT GIVE TWO FLYING FUCKS IF IT IS DAY OR NIGHT, SHE WILL HAVE YOU.

༊*·˚ The urgency of these moments—your hands fumbling, your breath hot against her skin—it’s all just so delicious to her and you —

༊*·˚ The forbidden nature of your relationship feeds her desire, making every encounter all the more electrifying.

༊*·˚ Definitely has a thing for marking you — hidden of course, though sometimes she isn’t afraid to let them peak out —

༊*·˚ Avis is deliberate about leaving traces of your passion, but always where only you or she will see them. Love bites along your inner thighs or scratches down your back are her signature, a private reminder of her.

༊*·˚ Avis, ever meticulous and refined, would likely have a deep appreciation for oral pleasure — both giving and receiving.

༊*·˚ She’s precise, taking her time to tease and savor, drawing out your pleasure until you’re trembling under her touch.

༊*·˚ She’d enjoy teasing you, her lips and tongue exploring every sensitive spot, her movements sensual and deliberate, building you up only to pause and make you beg for release.

༊*·˚ “Patience, my sweet girl,” she’d whisper, her voice rich with amusement. “I decide when you come.”

༊*·˚ Conversely, she’d REVEL in your attention to her, loving the way you worship her body, how you kiss and taste her like she’s the only thing that matters.

༊*·˚ She encourages you to be VOCAL. Avis LOVES hearing you — whether it’s a soft moan, a whispered plea, or her name spilling from your lips. She’ll tease — very subtly degrade you if you try to stifle yourself. “Let me hear those pretty sounds, darling. I want to know how good you feel at being a dirty little whore, hmm?”

༊*·˚ As a woman used to getting what she wants, Avis would enjoy exerting her control through teasing and denial.

༊*·˚ She, and proud she would be to declare this, is highly aware of the power she holds over you and takes immense pleasure in making you wait for her touch, her approval, her satisfaction.

༊*·˚ She might kiss you deeply, her hands roaming your body, only to stop abruptly and smile. “Not yet, darling,” she’d say, commanding while those brown eyes shimmer in mirth. “I want to savor you.”

༊*·˚ Your frustration only fuels her satisfaction, and when she finally allows you to have her, the release is all the sweeter.

༊*·˚ Avis would revel in the age gap between you.

༊*·˚ She enjoys being the experienced, worldly woman guiding you into new realms of pleasure and desire.

༊*·˚ She loves how youthful and vibrant you are, how your innocence (or at least the appearance of it) contrasts with her own sophistication.

༊*·˚ She might call you “Mama’s girl” during moments of intimacy, or when promising you something filthy and exhilarating in the secrecy of stolen moments.

༊*·˚“You’re so eager, you minx ,” she’d croon affectionately. “It’s adorable how desperate you are for me.”

༊*·˚ Avis is a woman of taste, and she’d incorporate luxury into her intimate encounters with you.

༊*·˚ Silk sheets, champagne, and candlelit settings would be her preference, creating an atmosphere of opulence that matches her persona.

༊*·˚ She’d surprise you with a private rendezvous in a lavish hotel room, the bed adorned with rose petals, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume.

༊*·˚ “Only the best for mama’s girl,” she’d whisper against the nape of your neck as you marveled at the setting she’d arranged just for you.

༊*·˚ praise, praise praise !!!! If it was not clear, Avis thrives for praising you!!!! Avis is generous with her compliments, but they’re always laced with her unique brand of authority.

༊*·˚ She LOVES hearing you call her Mrs. Amberg when you’re intimate, but she’s also partial to ma’am or even mama. It feeds her ego and the dynamic between you two.

༊*·˚ Definitely tests your limits. Avis enjoys pushing boundaries, always careful but curious to see how far you’re willing to go for her. A blindfold, a soft scarf tying your wrists, or simply asking you to trust her completely—she knows how to toe the line between thrilling and overwhelming !

༊*·˚ VERY SENSUAL. For Avis, intimacy is about more than just physical pleasure. She takes every opportunity to touch you—tracing patterns on your skin, pressing kisses to your pulse, and savoring the way you respond to her in every way.

༊*·˚ She takes her time with aftercare, as do you. Despite her intensity, Avis is gentle and attentive once the heat of the moment has passed. She’ll brush back your hair, press soft kisses to your temple, and whisper words of reassurance as she holds you close.

[burnthoneydrops]

Paper Flowers (b.b. x fem!reader)

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: classism, anxious/slightly insecure reader, use of "young lady" and feminine descriptors

a/n: the second part of Language of Flowers is here! Thank you so much for all the love on the first part and I hope you enjoy the second one just as much! I set it up to have more parts in the future so if anyone is interested in that, let me know!!

The eyes of the ton were as insufferable as ever. One would have thought that a lady in simpler attire would attract less attention than those in large adornments or hair pieces, but today appeared the opposite indeed. Sure, when you were personally delivering large floral orders to people’s estates, you had eyes on you, but you could ignore them then. Then, you knew you would not be in their line of vision for long and you could rest assured with the guarantee that no one would remember past that moment. Now, however, now you were out walking in your simple attire with a lord. A lord of one of the most illustrious families no less. You had tried to convince Benedict to take the less occupied back roads, but he insisted that his desired destination would be faster reached should you take the main road. Not wanting to make a scene in public, you were left to be made a spectacle. 

The looks you were receiving were not lost on Benedict, but he chose to keep his head up high, nodding and smiling when someone was about to pull an ugly face. Perhaps the ton were weary as to why someone of his status was walking with a working class young lady, but frankly, he was too happy that he had gotten you on this walk in the first place to even consider how wild it might appear on the surface. He nearly reached out to grab your hand when he saw the Cowpers were approaching from the modiste, but realised just in time how much worse the physical affection might be and refrained, choosing to wipe some imaginary dust off of his trousers instead. 

“Something else will catch their attention by morning, do not fret,” he whispered with his head tilted in your direction but looking over your head rather than at you in an effort to look less obvious. 

You had been so caught up in the whirlwind of emotions that were entrapped in him appearing at the shop and your parents sending you away that you had not had the time to think about presentation at all. You had heard girls lamenting to each other about their lacklustre presentations to the Queen and you could imagine that it felt something similar to this. All eyes on you, no one truly seeing you, yet everyone so quick to make a passing judgement. 

“Had I cared about the opinions of others, I would not have asked for your time. But I am here because I care not about them, but about you. Keep your head high, we are almost there,” Benedict whispered once again. While his words were nice, they did little to soothe your anxiety. Nonetheless, you raised your chin up higher, realising you had been staring at the cobblestone more than what was in front of you. You soon found yourself quickly approaching a luscious green field that left you wondering how Benedict had ever found it. It was much closer to the shops than his estate, and with the ton spending most of their months in the country, you questioned how his discovery of this place might have come about. “We have arrived,” Benedict commented with a small smile on his face, waving his arm out to the side in demonstration. 

“However did you find this place?” You questioned. 

“Being a child in a clan of eight means a lot of time to make daring escapes during family shopping trips,” he smiles, mischievous as you ever saw. The smile gives the impression that he looked back on those memories fondly, as you did with memories of you and your sisters. Maybe you had never had big family shopping trips into town, but the moral of the story lies in the bonds strengthened with those you were with. You started to believe you might have more in common than you previously imagined. 

“I figured we could sit and admire the view. Talk for a little, if it suits you,” Benedict looked over at you, gesturing to a place clear of any wandering eyes where you could lean against the sturdy tree trunk and watch the breeze create waves over the pond. 

“It suits me very well,” you nodded, a small smile etching its way onto your face as he sat down first, offering his hand as to assist you in doing the same. 

“I’d say the way the sun hits suits you very nicely as well,” he complimented, “you’re practically glowing”. 

“A fan of flattery are we Mr. Bridgerton?” you asked, teasingly but trying not to show it. 

“Only when I feel it necessary”. 

Though you were promised conversation, Benedict did not want to force it, so the two of you sat in silence, taking in the sights and sounds of this hidden paradise. The silence was not uncomfortable, mind you, but rather a space in which the two of you could gather all of your thoughts. The grass waved to and fro in the light breeze, catching glimmers of sunlight in every direction. It looked as though someone had sprinkled fairy dust and every sparkle was destined to catch your eye. The tree you were leaning on had a small hole in the trunk, and you quickly caught two squirrels dashing in and out of it, dancing on the tree branches above you. 

“This place is-” “I wanted to ask-” you realised you had started speaking at the same time. You nodded at Benedict, silently urging him to continue first. 

“I wanted to ask why you were so adamant about disliking me upon our first visit”. 

You paused. You knew this question was going to appear sooner or later and yet you did not have a precise answer. Not one that felt worthy enough of your anger anyway. It was not unlike you to get an idea stuck in your head and run with it, so unchanging that you had to apologise many a time to family members for such unwavering anger. It always felt silly a few days later, as it did now, to have held onto an unsupported emotion for so long, but you liked admitting your faults just as much as you liked giving Benedict the time of day when you first met. Surely your idea was not so drastic this time, as you had met many men of the ton and of the working class who held women in low regard, instantly annoying you, but you also knew that this time you were angered more because of his brother than because of him. You had just happened to meet him first. 

You decided it would be easier to just tell Benedict as such, and he sat there quietly during your entire speech. He did not interrupt, did not interject, did not even look away while you were explaining. It made you feel even sillier that he was listening so attentively to a situation you grew more and more embarrassed about. Ending your spiel, you placed your head in your hands, leaning your elbows against your knees as to become as small as possible. Benedict was quick to remedy this, gently grabbing your wrist and pulling your arm away from your face. He looked at you with a goofy smile before reaching for an inner pocket in his jacket. 

“So your problem lies not with me, but with my brother?” 

“I do not believe I actually have a problem with any of you. Not a reasonable one anyway; I was merely already agitated and the situation you laid before me sounded so similar to ones I had heard before that I clumped you all together. This is not to dismiss the derogatory nature that men in the ton and of the working class have I just-” 

“I believe I understand,” Benedict cut you off, but only so you would not have to repeat your feelings in order to feel that you had explained them properly. “Now that we are at least a little on the same page, I did not want you to think that I had left you out of my gifting endeavours entirely,” he pulled something out of his inner pocket and you immediately noticed a delicate pale pink ribbon tying little cards together. “I couldn’t entirely fight the urge  to gift flowers, even though you work with them constantly, so I figured some longer lasting ones might be nicer”. He handed you the stack of cards and you gingerly unwrapped the bow from the front in order to get a better look. Now it was Benedict’s turn to become embarrassed, as he feared you may not like or appreciate them. You came from a family of florists, of course it was a low blow to gift you something related to your trade. This was a terrible idea and he should have never- 

“These are…beautiful,” you sighed, shifting through the cards with soft eyes. He had painted multiple flowers with their meanings listed under them in the fashion of miniatures. They were incredibly detailed and gorgeous that you could not imagine the amount of effort it took not only for him to create each flower but find their meaning as well. “You are an artist, I take it”. 

“I…dabble”. 

“Do not be modest Mr. Bridgerton. If this is dabbling I would love to see what your proper art looks like,” you smiled up at him and felt all worry about his gift choices melt away. You liked them and that is all that mattered. 

“My mother is quite well versed in the language of flowers, so I figured I would use what talent I have for you”. 

“My little sister, Abigail, keeps our flower book on her shelf so it is quite nice that now I can have one of my own. No matter how versed one might be, there is always the fear that one might forget, so these will prove quite useful I think.” 

Everything was going perfectly in Benedict’s mind. You liked his gift, you enjoyed the space you were in, you were smiling. You carefully tied the cards back together with the pale ribbon, turning them over and over again in your hand as if you couldn’t believe someone had taken the time to gift you such a thing. In truth you couldn’t; your family were certainly not the wealthiest in England, so gifts were small or hard to come by. They only really happened during holidays and birthdays, but half the time you ended up sharing with your sisters. Not that you were complaining, you loved your sisters dearly and were grateful for anything you received, but being able to have something to call your own was magical. 

A quick glance at Benedict’s pocket watch caused the whole scene to come crashing down, however, as he jumped up and informed you that he was late for a family event. You urged him to go, thanking him for the gift and the time, assuming this would be the end of your time together indefinitely. Benedict seemed to have other ideas. 

“There is a party. Two nights from now and I would love if you would come with me”. 

“Should you not be worried about bringing me?” 

“Whatever for?” Your question seemed lost on him. 

“Bringing someone of a lower status to a ton party would surely cause scandal, would it not?” 

“No, see, this is a party where everyone is invited. All types of people mingling together for an evening, doing whatever the night calls them to do. It is truly wonderful and it would be even more wonderful if you would attend. It would be after shop hours, so you would not have to worry about leaving your family to fend for themselves,” he teased and you laughed, “and I could come pick you up, make sure you arrive safely and all”. 

“If you are sure,” to which Benedict nodded enthusiastically, “then I suppose I shall”. 

His smile grew wide as he lightly grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it before starting the walk in the opposite direction back towards Mayfair. You were still wary of what had taken place, and the promise you just made, but you supposed if one of you was certain enough about it that it would be fine. Or at least you hoped.

people who asked to be tagged: @easybrainrot34, @imgondeletedis, @sublimepenguinpeach-blog

[irrelevantwriter]

Empress

Pairing: Emperor Geta (Gladiator 2) x Female Reader/You

Warnings: SFW, Ancient Rome type shit

Word Count: 1345

Summary: Part 1. The Empress of Rome pushes her husband a little too far.

A/N: I...I don't know what to say honestly. I'm just as confused by this red-headed slut as some of you are. But here we are. So let's enjoy shall we? Because life be life-ing and I need a distraction. I obviously took liberties with ancient Rome. Let me live. There is a part two with lots of smut so get ready besties. Feedback is that good shit.💗

*Read Part Two here

*Masterlist

***********************

You hummed softly to yourself, at peace now that you’d dismissed your maidens. You worked in harmony with yourself, the movements almost convincing yourself you were anywhere else other than Palatine Hill. 

Despite your position, you tended to your own bed linens. The Emperor had admonished you many times before, but you failed to care. 

The tasks you so often liked to keep yourself busy with were seen below your station. An insult to the royal position you held. And yet, for you, they reminded you of a simpler time. They reminded you of home. Of being a young girl not yet soured by what lay beyond her village walls. 

The sentiment made your chest tighten. Today was a day that you longed for that life. You missed your family. You missed flying freely. 

You may be the Empress of Rome, but travertine and marble were still molded to be your cage. An inescapable prison. 

Soft footsteps found your ears as you delicately smoothed the freshly washed bedding to your likeness. Scents of jasmine and lavender permeated the air. They were some of your favorite scents. Something only your husband knew. He’d asked not long after you’d married. He’d made it his duty to ensure those scents followed you everywhere. Even in your dreams. 

“Augusta…” 

His voice floated through the doorway, a hint of disappointment in your title. 

A reminder.

You straightened to face him, bowing your head to show respect. 

“Must I keep reminding you of your place?” 

You sensed him moving closer, his ringed hand extending to tilt your chin. Your eyes met his; depthless pools of darkness. Some days you could see streaks of gold in them from the sun’s rays. Those days were your favorites. Other days they were bottomless. Reminding you of a snake pit. Those were your least favorite.

Today was the latter. 

“I have my reasons, Augustus. Forgive me.”

He chuckled, very aware of your reasons for disobeying him time and time again. 

His hand cupped your cheek, the cool metal of his rings making you flinch. You met his eyes at his prompting. His jaw was clenched, the muscle giving away just how displeased he was with you.

“You are lucky you’re so beautiful, my love. A lesser person would have their tongue cut out.”

You knew. Of course you knew. You did it anyway. 

“A lesser person doesn’t have the heart of the Emperor of Rome.”

Geta hissed, and just as quick as a snake lying in wait, he struck. His hand encircled your throat, squeezing just enough. 

You grasped at his wrist, understanding the game he wanted to play. It was why he kept you. 

In public you were the epitome of grace and devotion. Rome adored you. Your husband adored you. You were dutiful. Well-spoken and a sight to behold. You had everyone’s hearts. Geta knew that. And so did you. 

Behind closed doors, you did as you pleased most days. You went against your husband’s orders, though you never put your own life at risk. You were not so foolish to do so. At least not outside the palace. 

The Emperor was well and truly a spoiled brat. You were not. You liked to remind him of that fact often. And with pleasure. He claimed he hated it. But you saw the fire in his eyes. It was that elusive look he’d get only with you. Swirling embers of flames that mixed in his too dark eyes. 

Lust.

“You forget your role, wife,” he spat between clenched teeth, fingers tightening around your neck. 

“I forget nothing, husband. Least of all what my role is,” you retorted, seeing his gaze shift from your eyes to your lips. Stained with berry juice and sweetened with wine. 

He wanted a taste. 

Geta smirked, loosening his hold. But he did not release you. Instead, he brought you closer, fingers now exploring the hollows of your collarbone. In the confines of your chambers you were more exposed than you would be otherwise. He feasted on the sight. 

He dragged his jeweled fingers across your skin, enjoying the goosebumps that arose in their wake. He touched the royal broach at your shoulder. You shivered. 

“I continue to show you grace and you continue to disrespect your emperor. Have I provided you with such a horrid life? Do the pleasures of my empire displease you?”

His eyes narrowed, his fingers shadowing over your bosom. There were traces of coal around his eyes, making him look that much more sinister. 

But not to you. 

His power frightened you, but the man himself did not. He forgot what kind of life his empire made for its people outside the city. You’d seen the worst of what Roman royalty could do. You’d experienced it firsthand. A man dressed in gold was hardly a sight to run away from. Threat or not.

“Have you gone mute?”

He interrupted your musings, seemingly pleased to have rendered you silent. 

You smiled in return, daring to let your own hand touch upon him. He didn’t stop you, though he watched you with careful eyes. You traced his lips, feeling his breath quicken. You may not be afraid of Geta, but he was surely afraid of you. 

“You have taken a jungle cat and chained her to your side, Augustus. Does that not seem cruel?” You whispered, the space between you both getting smaller as you stepped forward. 

“Is it wrong that I long for my own creature comforts? However lowly they are to you. Is it wrong that I wish to roam freely? To love freely?”

“Love freely?” He cut in, scoffing at the notion. “You do not love freely here? Do not love your emperor?”

His words took on a more threatening tone as he twisted your words. He cupped your cheek, keeping you in his grip. 

“You misunderstand me,” you started, leaning into his touch. You turned your head and kissed his palm, feeling him relax. You reached for his other hand, placing it at your hip, a taboo touch, even between husband and wife. “To love freely means to give myself to you. You have taken. I have never given. To have a woman give herself to you is a magic no mortal man could withstand.”

“Enchantress,” he accused, though weakly. 

“No, my love. Empress.” 

You softly kissed his fingertips. Fingers that had never seen a hard day's work. Or blood on a battlefield. Or the blissful task of pleasing a woman. He, like most men, only sought their own. And as a dutiful wife, you provided. But the hunger, that stayed with you. And it burned as hot as the depths of Hades. 

“You speak of sorcery. That’s punishable by death,” he rasped. 

“Are you so afraid that you do not wish to seek what I speak of?”

Geta’s jaw once again clenched, the muscles in his neck straining. He did not like to be patronized. 

“You dare make me out to be a fool?”

“I’m offering you the chance to experience what only few men know. The body is not sorcery, Augustus.”

He stared at you for a long moment, searching your face for…something. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he jerked his hand away and stepped back. Air filled the once tight space between you both. 

“You infuriate me!” He exclaimed, hands making a mess of his fiery curls. 

“That is not my intention.”

He stepped to you again, breathing hard and heavy. “It would be wise for you to stop speaking out of turn, wife.” 

You did as he commanded, knowing you had stoked the flames too much. 

“Tonight…you are to come to my chambers. I will deal with you accordingly,” he ordered, chest rising and falling with his breaths. His eyes looked upon you, studying your form, almost seeing through your garments.

“Yes, Augustus.” 

“And wife?”

A pause.

You met his gaze.

“I will not show mercy. If the jungle cat wishes to be freed, she must be broken. Understand?”

You nodded. 

He left without another word. 

Part Two

[mywitchyblog]

I just wanted to say your takes on age and shifting have been really helping me. I didn't have the opportunity to enjoy my teenage years and I feel like everything is falling apart in my adult life, so I really want to age myself down and experience life as a teen again. However, tiktok constantly made me feel like a creep and I was even starting to doubt myself and my motivations, which is crazy. So thank you for standing your ground and having our back lol and stay away from shiftok yall

AS.YOU.FUCKING.SHOULD.

Girl, keeping your distance from ShiftTok? Absolutely the right call. That place is less of a community and more of a cult with a superiority complex, stuffed with self-appointed “moral guardians” who’d rather police everyone’s shifting practices than actually understand a damn thing about shifting itself 💅. They’re too busy gatekeeping, throwing their tired opinions around, and stirring up drama to realize just how hypocritical they look. Chile, the irony is thick enough to choke on, and trust, we see it 👀.

And don’t even get me started on the anti-age-change crew. These people couldn’t argue their way out of a paper bag without leaning on the same three tired-as-hell logical fallacies, dragging them out every time to keep shifters in check without an ounce of actual understanding or empathy.

Ad Hominem – This is anti-age changers’ go-to move when they’re out of actual arguments. They skip right over any real discussion and dive into calling people “pedo” or “creep” just to shut them up. Rather than taking the time to understand why someone might genuinely want to experience being younger again, they grab for the ugliest insults they can think of and throw them like confetti 🎉… only it’s confetti made of trash 💀. Example: A shifter explains, “I age down in my Desired Reality because I had a tough youth and want to relive a better version of it. Plus, I want to experience a healthy, innocent romance from my teenage years.” But instead of even thinking about the idea that there might be something healing and meaningful in that, here comes an anti-age changer with: “If you want to age down to date, you’re a predator—plain and simple.” Here’s the kicker: these critics don’t care about the reasons. They’ll weaponize shame to make shifters look like villains, ignoring the fact that not everyone who age-shifts and dates does it for predatory reasons. Many want to experience that sweet, teenage love they didn’t get in this reality, to relive the simpler emotions of that time without adult complications. But the anti’s? They’d rather throw accusations than try to understand even a sliver of the truth. They’re using the “pedo” card because they know it’ll silence some people, and honey, it’s a sad attempt at control through fear 🙄.

Straw Man Fallacy – Here’s where things get especially messy 🥴. Instead of listening to what you’re actually saying, they twist it into something completely off-base, creating a fake argument to attack. They don’t want to engage with your actual reasons; they’d rather paint you as something you’re not so they can feel good about their so-called “moral high ground.” 🙄Example: Imagine a shifter saying, “I age down because I missed out on a carefree youth and want to date someone my age in that reality. I want to experience young love in a non-sexual, simple way.” The anti immediately twists this into, “Oh, so you’re saying you’re an adult wanting to act like a teenager to date kids? That’s sick.” See the problem? They’re creating a whole new argument based on something you never said. This shifter just wants a clean, innocent experience of being young again, complete with those little flutters and first dates that only make sense at that age. Some shifters may even explore young relationships with some intimacy, but it’s coming from a place of reliving a time they missed—not about attraction to minors or anything predatory. These critics twist the intention, making it sound like a fetish when it’s about pure curiosity, nostalgia, or healing. They’ve crafted their own horror story and are trying to pin it on you 👑, and honestly? It’s lazy, transparent, and completely off the mark.

Hasty Generalization – This is when anti-age changers pull out the big, sloppy brush and slap the same, tired accusation onto every age-changing shifter. Because they’ve heard one example of someone age-shifting for sketchy reasons, they assume everyone who does it must have some secret, shady agenda. Girl, the logic isn’t even there 🤦‍♀️.Example: Anti-age changers will say, “Oh, I heard about this one person who aged down to act out some weird fantasy, so clearly all shifters who age down to date are predators.”This is their way of weaponizing a single, extreme case to invalidate every other shifter’s unique, personal reasons. There are countless reasons people age down and engage in romance, and most have nothing to do with predatory behavior. Imagine someone who wants to experience a first crush all over again, or who never got a chance to date as a teen and just wants that innocent thrill of hand-holding and kissing at a school dance 🕺💃. Some might even explore sexual intimacy because, for them, it’s about curiosity and filling in experiences they missed—not some twisted attraction.Let’s get real: most age-changing shifters just want to feel what it’s like to be young again, to make memories that heal, to have those butterflies and firsts they missed out on. The antis are so obsessed with scandalizing that they can’t imagine a reality where someone wants to age down without any creepy motives. This broad-strokes accusation is not only unfair; it’s lazy as hell. It paints every age-changing shifter with the same brush, and it does nothing but create stigma and misinformation. Like… maybe sit down and breathe for a second instead of trying to stir up a scandal? 😒

Here’s the reality: these fallacies are tools they use to twist, shame, and silence. They’re not here to have a real conversation about why someone might age-shift or date in that reality, or to understand that those desires can come from totally normal, even therapeutic places. They’re here to make it sound twisted, full stop.

The next time they pull out these tired arguments, just remember: they’re not about facts, they’re about control. They use moral panic as a blunt weapon, hoping people won’t look closer and see right through their paper-thin accusations. Keep doing you, stay fierce 🔥, and don’t let their fallacies dull your shine.

[brewed-pangolin]

Captain MacTavish has a certain affinity for domestic home life.

Stripping the responsibility and command at the door as he bathes in the simplicity of a civilian lifestyle.

He loves it more so because of you.

You wear it with an ease he's only beginning to comprehend.

The way you move with fluid energy around the home while he still has to remind himself of the layout every time he steps through the front door.

Two different worlds converging under one roof. You being the skilled commander, and he being the young apprentice.

It takes time.

You fought the first two times he came back from extended tours. Soap still set in his ways of control, and you too stubborn to change your stance on the ways of the home.

The next two reunions were easier. Both of you coming to terms with your own disadvantages. Him relinquishing command to let you take the lead, and you being understanding to his newly acquired vulnerability.

And this is where he fell in love with domesticity.

The simpler ways of living that flowed around you with a certain air of quiet modesty.

He would always lend a helping hand if needed, and you would deny almost every time.

Told him he could handle the more hands-on duties of the home while you took care of the more regular maintenance.

An ebb and flow that moved to create perfect simitry.

An energy you grew fond of in his presence, and one you let eat away at your soul in his absence as you took up his mantle.

The walls of your home seemed to close in on you when he was pulled away. The quietness reverberating of their plastered surface and embedding into the pores of your skin.

Yet they would breathe new life the moment his heavy footsteps echoed through the silent halls once more.

Pushing away your solidarity. And restarting the domestic maelstrom that powered the living vitality that was your home.

Captain MacTavish Masterlist

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Forming the Pack - Part 1

Autumn Embers Master List

Pheromones aren’t everything, of course, but you’ll get more cohesive group dynamics if everyone has scents that go together. Scent blockers and diffusers are everywhere in common spaces, so it’s not like people who’s scents don’t mesh can’t be around each other. Lots of people with subtler or hard to pin down scents only go au naturel on special occasions with family and their special someone.

Of course, the military is a whole other beast.

Almost every person serving active duty is an alpha, which lends itself to clashes. And alphas, who already tend to have stronger scents, put out even more aggressive pheromones in close proximity with one another. Industrial strength scent diffusers can only do so much. It results in proximity packs forming, alphas who are scent compatible spending more time with each other.

The 141 doesn’t form because of scent compatibility. When Price finds Simon and forms the task force, he doesn’t much care about what they each smell like. Their scents being on wildly different parts of the spectrum is better than if they were too close, Price reasons. His gear smells a bit spicy, Simon’s always has an earthy undertone. It’s easy to avoid squabbling, and only made easier by the way Simon readily assumes his position as John’s second. No muss, no fuss.

The first year passes. It’s hard work, but Simon makes it undeniably simpler. The Ghost has a presence that demands deference from the temporary members of the task force. And because Ghost follows his captain, that deference extends to Price. The two times someone had tried to upset the balance, Simon had reacted with such swift ferocity that Price hadn’t known there was a problem before it was resolved with a neck under a boot.

“Stand down, Ghost,” Price says around his cigar, the third time.

“'S soon as he acknowledges his superiors, Skipper,” Ghost rumbles, staring down at the sergeant who’s face is going an interesting shade of purple with shame and a lack of oxygen. “Yield, corporal.” The sergeant frantically taps Ghost’s boot. Ghost gives him just enough room to heave a breath, and snarls down, “Yield to the Captain.”

“Captain, I yield,” the young man gasps.

“You ever flout orders again, I’ll kill you myself,” Ghost growls.

After that, the mission had gone smoothly.

Days later, it’s just the two of them again, walking home from the pub. It’s a nice enough night for it, and they’re both too jumpy to call a car. Simon follows without comment, just lights a cigarette and falls into John’s wake, like always.

Four blocks from the base, Simon says, “Gotta piss.”

John snorts. “What, you didn’t go before we left? Hold it.”

“Alright,” Simon drawls. Without breaking stride, he lights another cigarette.

Of course, within another block, John becomes too aware of his own bladder. If Simon hadn’t said anything, he could probably have made it. Annoyed, he steps into an alley and behind a dumpster. His nose does not appreciate the assault on his senses, but he’s a soldier, he’s smelled worse. Simon stands guard at mouth of the alley as he does his business.

When he emerges, he tips his head. “Goin’?”

Simon quirks an eyebrow and exhales a cloud of smoke. “Am I?”

Price hums, takes in Simon’s relaxed posture. Without the skull covered balaclava, he’s softer. Not civilian soft - he’s still almost 2 meters of alpha, hardened by military training and torture. But where most military As balk at taking orders when they’re not in the field, Simon looks for ways to let Price lead.

Simon will do what ever John tells him. It’s a realization that probably shouldn’t thrill him the way it does.

John waves him into the alley. “Be quick about it.”

Without comment, Simon hands his half-finished cigarette over and steps into the alley. John contemplates it as Simon does his business. He prefers cigars, but he takes a drag and tells himself it’s just to keep it lit.

But when Simon re-emerges, John doesn’t hand it back. And Simon doesn’t ask.

[klausysworld]

Can I get some fluffy Klaus headcanons where he’s dating someone who cooks/bakes? Not as a career, but as a hobby 

Klaus and his little baker girl:

When Klaus met y/n she didn’t know that he was a hybrid. She found it odd and somewhat worrying with how little he ate and often cooked or baked things for him whenever she saw him.

She knew her food was good, she’s had many friends and family members tell her so and so if he didn’t eat her food then she knew something was wrong.

Thankfully Klaus has good taste in all senses and nearly licked the plate clean.

He could see the glint of relief in her eyes and the warmth that spread through her when he told her how delicious her strawberry tart was and it made his heart swell.

It was clear to Klaus that this was y/n’s love language, giving to him and caring for him.

Klaus wasn’t used to walking in to a warm meal and a smiling face each night.

Every night he made sure to stop at y/n’s knowing she would have something ready for him no matter how late he showed up. He found that since knowing her, he felt hunger for something other than blood but instead for actual food and for her presence.

No matter what she was making: a stew, a roast, a steak, a pasta dish, a fish dish, something savoury or something sweet. Whatever she served him, was always delicious. And he always wanted more.

He wasn’t sure where she got all the time from to bake him his shortbread, brownies, angel cakes and other little treats. Between him being at her house and her being at work while he’s amongst a war, he didn’t know how she managed to find the time for her hobbies. But he was thankful she did nevertheless.

Klaus was certain that if he weren’t supernatural then he would’ve had diabetes from the amount of sugar she fed him. At one point he questioned if she was trying to ‘fatten him up’ to which she laughed and offered a ‘maybe?’ back to him.

He loved how sweet she was, so soft and innocent in the best of ways. Her biggest worry was that he didn’t eat enough and her main wonder of each day was what she would cook for dinner.

And when she accidentally found out he had a big family, her first thought (after getting upset that he didn’t tell her) was to invite them all for dinner. He was very reluctant but he couldn’t tell her big eager eyes no, not when he knew it was something she would love.

So after a lot of threats and physical fights, Freya, Elijah, Kol, Rebekah, Hayley and Hope all arrived at miss y/l/n’s home along with Niklaus of course.

She had made a mix of foods for them so they could pick what they wanted and made some simpler dishes for young Hope as the fancy foods didn’t appeal. It was something that instantly made the Mikaelsons like her and also have them all see the love shine in Klaus’s eyes. True, pure love.

It was the first of many things the mikaelsons would try from y/n.

Once she became a frequent visitor there and they came comfortable at hers, they were almost always snacking on something.

Elijah had a craving for cobblers and crumbles, Freya had taken to anything with strawberries in it, Kol went for anything in sight and Rebekah wanted to try everything at least once. Meanwhile Hope and Klaus were slowly learning some of y/n’s recipes and Hope was making slight alterations to make them more to her liking.

Often Klaus would notice y/n adding a cake to Hoped lunch box and sneaking out of bed early to set the breakfast table.

If she were to ever miss a meal then every mikaelson was on alert thinking she was missing.

If she didn’t bake something for a couple days then they were trying to find what was wrong and when she got too stressed and over baked Hope was bringing brownies to school while the vampires in the compound would come and steal a biscuit.

Everyone loved y/n’s baking and her cooking. Many times Freya, Rebekah and Hayley had tried to tell her to open a coffee shop but she argued she like her other job just fine and liked that food was something she did because she loved and not because it was a responsibility.

The mikaelson home was a brighter place with her cheerful smile and loving nature.

Klaus was so much happier with her caring nature around him. So much warmer as a person, whether or not it was the constant sugar rush or the flood of affection, he wasn’t sure but he loved it either way.

[itsabouttimex2]

Yandere Letters:

Azure Lion

(The script is neat and modest, but several words have flowery details that sneak through. It seems as if the writer has intentionally simplified their writing style to be more casual and easily readable. Several words have been crossed out and replaced with simpler synonyms. The sender must see you as being rather young. There are strange runes on the ground around the note- it must’ve been sent by some form of magic.)

My brave little cub, I hope this letter finds you well. All is well with my sworn brothers and I, of course. We grow stronger by the day, all in the name of forging a better future, for ourselves and everyone else. There is not an hour that goes by when I do not think of you. Are you eating well, my cub? And keeping quenched from thirst? Please, you must take good care of yourself. Your papa would never forgive himself if you fell ill all and he was not around to tend to you. In another week I’ll return to visit you. Only a little while longer, cub. I’ll be bringing your uncles along, too. They haven’t seen you for a while, and have long looked forward to seeing how much you’ve grown.

I’ll make us all something to eat together, then.

Please, forgive me for not writing more often. My greatest fear is that an enemy may find you when I am far away. Every time I send a letter, I significantly greatly shift the runes used to keep them from being tracked. I know you are lonely, my little one. It shames hurts me that I am not around more often. I know it hurts you, too.

But not much longer, now. I swear it to you. We’ll have ourselves a hug and a long chat, and then you can sleep in my bed. It will be like I never left.

Be brave, cub. Love, Papa.

(…there’s an extra section scrawled messily at the very bottom.)

SW: Hey, kiddo! It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you, huh? Are you getting big and strong like all your uncles? I bet! I can’t wait to see you again, bud! My buddy Macaque has been working on something just for you, too!

We’ll you soon, Y/N!

-Great Sage, Equal to Heaven

[experimentfae]

Requesting a lute x reader whos a fellow exorcist with slight reservations about the exterminations. Lute encourages them and reader gives into her “virtuous” ideals

Lute x Exorcist Reader

Oneshot / platonic

⋆⭒˚｡⋆♱𓆩♡𓆪♱⋆⭒˚｡⋆

When you have been created you, you felt like kid inside a adults woman’s body it’s felt nice to see the other exterminator cheer to see a new sister join the team feeling the emotional warmth of the others made you feel welcomed. The first thing you learned that your creator is Adam the fist man, I guess he seemed to nice to you and the others even when he does questionable things.

You had to eventually learn what you were created for you felt uneasy by the revelation. “I’m supposed to kill?” You asked unsure “yes kill sinners, I know you were born this week but come on sweetheart pick up the pace.” Stated Adam.

“Yes sorry sir.” “There ya go baby steps, alright lute I need you to give her the exterminator talk or whatever, give her all the details.” Adam left without another word which left you and lute. “Alright newbie this how it is, you kill any exterminator no matter if it’s a man, woman or child as long is a demon you kill it.” “Wait an even a child.” That last part stuck to you.

“Yeah and do it we don’t want another vaggie incident, I feel great potential from you.” This made you felt special “really.” She smiled “of course I can see you being a great warrior of course practice is needed.”

You nodded your head “you’re right I should practice.” She smiled as she let you go the sword fighting room to practice.

It’s been a month now and you practice with other exterminators and lute herself, other helped you practice basic fighting skills lute really helped the most she taught you tips and tricks on how to kill a sinner sooner.

Despite you practicing and bonding with the others you still didn’t entirely feel comfortable with extermination just imaging the blood over you made you feel nauseous didn’t help that any angel friends you made you couldn’t tell them about due to sera wanting to keep that exterminator’s kill sinners under the rug. Made you feel that you and other exterminations were doing something you weren’t supposed to.

“I don’t know lute are you sure we are doing the right thing?” “For last time (y/n), angels never make mistakes that means what we are doing isnt wrong it’s necessary.” She answers very confident in her opinion “but why do we hide then?” You questioned further “because (y/n) angels are too sensitive They can’t even handle the idea of crushing a bug by accident.”

“Huh, I guess that makes sense.” “Of course it’s correct and that why we come in to protect heaven and the angels within it.” This confused you “protect them from the demon, but how would they be able to do that.” “(Y/n), I know you’re young so let me put this in a simpler way Demons are bloodthirsty and love destroying good things by nature they will kill any chance they get, especially towards angels due to their envy of seeing them live in paradise. So we must protect not just the angels but heaven as a whole. Now do you understand.”

You nodded your head “well if you put that way, I wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt especially the people I care about.” You agreed which made her smile “exactly I’m glad that you’re a fast learner (y/n), you remind me when I first was created I also questioned things but I learned and now I and you know what we must do to protect our home.” You nodded your head again.

“No worry lute I’ll be the best exterminator I can be!” You cheered she smiled wider proud that you were getting in line “I’m glad now continue to train.” “yes lute.” You ran to get ready to train, to try to be the best.

Adam then appeared behind lute “so you think (y/n) is ready? She smirked “yes mentally she is there but physically she will need more training but soon she will be a killing machine.” And she wasn’t wrong, you now believed that demon needed to die and deserved to die to protect you’re home, the thought of blood, demons blood a matter of fact now filled you with pride and in excitement for you’re first extermination day.

<- Back to MasterList or back to Hazbin Hotel

[seramilla]

Hmmm after Emily learns the truth about WHO her mothers are, wouldn’t she also want to know how and why they got together? Wouldn’t she want to know the REAL reason behind Carmilla’s fall? And wouldn’t Sera feel obligated to tell her everything (within reason Emily doesn’t have to hear about their love life) because she’s kept Emily in the dark for so long now Sera must face these bright and unbearable realities. Like how she had to hide her pregnancy from the elders. How different Carmilla is from the slander spread by the elders. And Emily notices an unsettling trend with each answer she receives. The elders keep coming back as a point of conflict.

This is slowly turning into a merger with the Homophobic Heaven/Carmilla Fell Later AU, because I am really enthralled with the idea of how Carmilla fell in that timeline, not as a follower of Lucifer, but because she loved Sera so much. These two may eventually be one and the same AU, so just a heads-up if you're noticing a lot of similarities between the two. My brain was already rolling with angsty thoughts of how to describe Carmilla's falling to Emily, and it just came out that way. I may end up making a fic out of this somehow, if I can wrangle the two timelines together and make it make sense. There's just something about Carmilla and/or Sera having a secret daughter, combined with religious guilt and convoluted, angsty confessions of love for their children that gets me in a WAY. Tell me I'm not the only one!

"How did you and Carmilla meet, Mom?"

Emily's been asking a lot of questions lately. That's to be expected -- the very nature of Emily's relationship with Sera has been turned on its head. The younger Seraphim is making up for a lifetime of not knowing how she really fits into Sera's life, and it's the least Sera can do to fill in the blanks for her.

This particular question makes Sera smile a little. She hasn't thought about how she met Carmilla in so long. She has so many fond memories of those times...probably the only truly wonderful, carefree days she's had since Carmilla fell.

"I had just been appointed High Seraphim," Sera says. "It was only me back then. Carmilla was in charge of Heaven's holy arms. They weren't called Exorcists yet...this was before Adam took over, before Lucifer fell...even before the Garden was a place humans could dwell. Carmilla and I were both so young, and I was what you might call...a workaholic. I was stubborn in my ways, and only cared about making Heaven perfect. That's what I was created for. It was a lonely existence."

Emily is listening to Sera with rapt attention. The younger Seraphim has never known Heaven to be without its strict enforcers, without Winners, without all the pomp and circumstance of the nobles and elders who would bring down the proverbial hammer on anyone caught getting out of line.

Sera thinks, things had so much simpler back then. Right had been right, wrong had been wrong, and nuance did not yet exist.

Until Carmilla had taught her differently.

"Carmilla was always a dreamer, like Lucifer. She was also much too smart for her own good. Always inventing things, imagining things...wonderful things, but also things that could kill an angel, if she wasn't careful. That's how we were introduced. She was experimenting with some new contraption she'd built...something she probably shouldn't have been testing so close to a noble's house, if I'm being honest. Some Dominion angel or another who would throw a fit if even one of the flowers in his garden got trampled."

Emily giggles. She knows exactly the types of angels Sera is talking about. The uppercrust of angelic society. The Lord's favorites.

"There was a complaint filed by this particular...individual, and when I arrived to investigate, Carmilla and this gentleman were...having a bit of a spat out in an empty field. It looked like a few punches had been thrown, because they were both covered in scrapes and bruises. The moment I laid eyes on her...I knew she was going to be trouble."

Emiliy gasps. "They did not! Did he hit her?!"

"Oh, I'm sure he did, but you should have seen the other fellow...he was in much worse shape than Carmilla was."

This particular memory sends warm, mushy pangs of fondness directly to Sera's heart. Even though she hadn't thought it at the time...she'd always admired Carmilla's ability to defend herself. To not take any bullshit from anyone for any reason.

"I asked what was going on, and the Dominion complained that this 'ruffian soldier' was experimenting with deadly weapons on his property. When I asked if this was true, Carmilla didn't even attempt to deny it. She made me aware that it wasn't his property, though, and come to find out, she was right. He had tried to remove her by force, and she had retaliated. In the end, both were charged with misdemeanor crimes. Carmilla spent a few days in a jail cell...her sentence would have been longer, but I pulled some strings to get her out early. Heaven's army couldn't be without its commander, after all."

Emily shoots Sera a particular look. Like she knows Sera probably had ulterior motives, that had absolutely nothing to do with Heaven's army, and everything to do with the fact that Sera was fond of Carmilla.

"Uh huh. Suuuuure, I totally buy that excuse. There was no other reason for you to get her out?" Emily quips.

"Well...yes, but I didn't know it at the time! We had just met, and I...I felt sorry for her! It didn't have anything to do with love yet."

"Yet," Emily repeats, grinning like a maniac. "You are so transparent, Se--Mom! It's not even funny!"

Sera rolls her eyes in defeat. "Fine! Yes, something about her was...intriguing, even back then. And as soon as they let her out, she came directly back to me...to thank me, so she said. But...she started coming back every day! And I let her! It was all downhill from there..."

"OoOooOooh! You liiiiiked her!" Emily starts poking into Sera's sides, jibing at her mother to just admit what she's slowly building up to saying anyway. Sera turns toward her and starts jabbing at Emily with her fingers instead. Emily giggles, shouting, "I give! I give!" when Sera won't let up.

Sera smirks. "Now are you going to let me finish?"

"Yes! Just get to it, already!"

"As I was saying..." Sera starts, looking over at Emily to make sure she won't interrupt again. Emily swipes over her lips like she's locking something up tight, and pretends to throw away the key over her shoulder.

"Thank you. As I was saying...Carmilla started coming to visit me every day. At first, it was to thank me with words...then gifts...then invitations to go out on the town. To treat me, she said. I had never once been on a...date, before, even though we never called it that. We would never use those words within earshot of anyone. And before too long...she admitted she had feelings for me, and I didn't know how to respond. I shut her out, denied it, for so long. But she was stubborn. She never gave up on me. And eventually...Heaven, it was probably years, or decades later, after we'd fought and made up about it several times. Eventually, she convinced me that she really loved me...and I had to admit to myself that I loved her back."

Sera pauses for just a moment, reliving the memory in all of its warm, fuzzy details, and then looks over at Emily, who is staring back at her, eyes huge and glossed over, like she's about to cry. She's holding her hand over her mouth, to keep from interrupting again. Sera smiles at her.

But then Sera looks down, at her lap, and braces herself. She knows the tone of her story is about to take a dark, desolate turn...she's readying herself for it, so she can get past these painful memories for her daughter...so her girl will finally know the truth.

"Carmilla and I loved each other very much. I felt guilty about it, at first. Heaven had always taught me that same-sex relationships were dirty, and wrong, and sinful...but over time, she taught me there was nothing remotely wrong with what we had. And I believed her. How could there be anything dirty about us loving each other with everything we had, heart, body, and soul?"

Sera pauses again. Things are about to go south pretty quickly, and she's readying herself, and Emily for it -- for real, this time.

"We had...well, we did things that people in love do. It went on like that for years. Maybe we got cocky, or weren't careful enough, thinking we would never get caught. But someone must have seen us, at some point...or put two and two together. They never implicated me in the act...but someone told the elders Carmilla had a female lover. They took her into custody immediately. They did...so many horrible things to her. Tortured her. I begged with her to come clean, and just tell them it was me, and maybe I could get us both a lesser sentence for cooperation or good behavior. But she wouldn't have any of it."

Sera is the one crying now. Toward the end of that last statement, her voice wavers, and tears start falling down her face in rivers. The old wounds in her heart are slowly being ripped open again at the telling of this story, bleeding anew. She does her best to keep it together, for Emily. But reliving these memories is not easy for her, no matter how much she wants Emily to know.

"They gave her a sham trial. Everyone knew the result before it ended. Lucifer had fallen not long before this, so I knew what was coming before it happened. I watched them...I watched them push her. She fell, right over the edge, like she was nothing. She was my everything. They made an example of her...a spectacle of her. Just like they did with Lucifer and his followers. And right before she went down, she told me she loved me one last time. And then she was gone. And somehow, that made it so much worse."

Sera is actually sobbing now. Crying ugly, wet tears into her hands, trying to keep Emily from seeing, so she doesn't have to watch her mother break down in front of her. Emily rushes toward her, hugging Sera tightly around her shoulders. Sera leans into the smaller angel, letting Emily carry some of her weight...along with the weight of her sorrow and pain, that she's been keeping to herself for all these years.

When she's managed to calm down a bit, Sera continues her story. The next part is much happier...as happy as it could be possibly be, at least, after having just watched her partner receive a fate worse than death.

"What made it so much worse was that the same day that she fell, I found out I was pregnant with you. I had just lost my love, my light, my reason for being...and suddenly I had to find new purpose again, in order to keep you safe, and hidden. I hid away for a while, as best I could, and kept you a secret from the elders until you were born. I claimed that I'd commissioned you, from the same place that I was forged, because with all the new Winners entering Heaven, I needed an assistant. They were so gullible, never imagining I would double-cross them like that. So I raised you as my sister...as my heir. And that's how we wound up here."

Emily has been sitting in silence for a long while by this point, and she continues to be silent, in heavy contemplation, for several moments after Sera concludes her story. Sera reaches over, and rubs her hand against Emily's face. Emily looks up at her, and then holds Sera's hand against her cheek to ground herself.

"Thank you for telling me all this," Emily says, voice a mournful and somber timbre, like she's been reliving all these moments right along with Sera. "I'm sorry for making you...have to recount all those painful moments. But I understand now, why you did what you did. I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Mom. I can't even begin to imagine how awful that was. I love you so much."

Emily starts to cry then, too, and Sera pulls her into her arms, and they just sit and hold each other for a while, and cry together, mother and daughter.

"I care about you so much, my love," Sera says. "You were the reason I held on for so long. You are my everything now, Emily, in her absence. You saved me. I could never imagine my life without you in it."

[rainbowswirlything]

That bit of writing that went with the Faerie Artificer Trick-or-Treat Bag was a treat in and of itself. The implications!!!

I'm copy-pasting it below the cut, for reference...

Someone crumpled up this tear-stained note and concealed it inside a hidden compartment disguised as a brick on a Faerieland castle balcony.

I thought I saw you last night. Lounging in the courtyard, where we used to sit together, charting grand futures. For a moonbeam-dappled moment, I could have sworn you called for me from the shadows. As if you had been waiting all this time, for us to pick up where we left off. Then, the clouds parted. The grass lay empty while a dead silence evidenced that even the wind sought to abandon me, And the moon illuminated the fact that I was still alone. An eternal verity I accepted when first lifting the crown. I thought I saw you last night. Alone in the library, perusing the mustiest tome you could find. Perched on the corner of those stiff chairs you could never seem to sit still on. Provoking stifled memories to rupture their restraints and abscond to the forefront of my mind. Then, the shadows faded. Memories of simpler times twisted into fragmented phantasms of the past... slipping away. Leaving me nostalgic for your irksome fidgeting, your rambling yet fervent tangents, And sobbing into the arms of a deeply perplexed Seshatia. I thought I saw you last night. Propped against the throne, twiddling your curved locks. The same spot where you counselled me through the darkest of times. Never shying away from even the most contentious of conversations. Then, a gentle zephyr roused my wandering mind. Stirring me from my conceited daydream. The tender breeze wished to remind me, That you had always closed the windows before dark. I thought I saw us last night. Arguing in the reflection of the Rainbow Fountain. When I faltered, you were never afraid to share your every thought. Until our quarrels reached a crescendo, and an insurmountable distance grew between us. Then, I looked up across the water. To see younger faeries shouting in our place. I witnessed Earth and Shadow parting before me, History revolves as they turn their backs on one another. I thought I saw you last night. Or at least that intrigued gleam of yours, reflected in the eyes of a gifted young sorceress. She acted as you did in those days, lighting up at new discoveries, unable to let go of the past. Once more, I found myself lacking, unable to balance duty and friendship. Then, I woke to a stone-cold realisation. The years had worn away my convictions, driven me to clutch secrets tight to my chest. How could either of you truly be to blame for your missteps, When your leader failed to guide you down the right path? I thought I saw you last night. Then I remembered, because of me, there's nothing left of you...

---

It sounds like Fyora was really very close with the Artificer in the past.

"Earth and Shadow parting before me" sounds like it must be a reference to the Illusen/Jhudora split, which Fyora seems to think is an echo of her own split with the Artificer (which also makes it interesting that she seems to be trying to get Illusen and Jhudora to make up.)

Plus the fact that Fyora saw Xandra (who I'm assuming the "gifted young sorceress" must have been) as being similar to the Artificer... another, different sort of relationship that also fell apart...

And the fact that Fyora goes to Seshatia (aka the Library Faerie) for comfort after splitting with the Artificer... they're clearly close, too.

Now there's another reason why Fyora may not be mentioning her suspicions about who's behind the Void/Grey curse plot...

...she probably really, really doesn't want the mastermind (or one of the masterminds) behind the plot to be someone she once cared about so deeply.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 29: corn maze

Masterlist flufftober 🎀

Reblog if you liked it!

“Are you sure we should go this way? That corner over there seems familiar to me”

“For the umpteenth time today, you can't possibly recognize a place because they all look the same. They are cornfields”

“Your response only confirms to me that we are fucking lost.”

In reality, you knew you weren't lost and even if you were, you trusted that your friend would be able to get you out of there. You and Spencer had known each other for practically as long as you could remember and when he told you that he would be in Vegas for a few days you practically begged him to go out with you. You didn't even care where you guys were going, you just wanted to spend time with him and enjoy the fall weather like when you were children.

In the midst of it all Spencer looked at a sign advertising a haunted house and a corn maze on the outskirts of town and he thought about the last time he had gone to either. He talked to you and in the end you decided on the second option, feeling an adventurous spirit that was not very fueled right now.

“We’re not lost. I have an eidetic memory and I know perfectly well that since we arrived, we have made one turn to the right, three to the left, we walked forward along the path on the right side, then we made another turn to the left…”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” you whined, smiling slightly at your friend’s jabbering. A couple of people walked past you and waved at you, looking a little more lost than you.

Spencer was wearing a long coat that day, a garment you weren't very used to seeing him in, a themed scarf and a pumpkin-colored hat that you had knit for him a couple of years ago but that he still seemed to appreciate.

“Don't worry, these camps always use a Global Positioning System with satellites to help identify the location of all the people in the camp and are designed so that you can leave halfway if you panic.”

“This reminds me of that novel by King and his son, In the Tall Grass, have you read it?”

"No. Is it good?"

“It's a little scary if you live in the country. Or if you go into a corn maze, like a couple of fools thought of it” you joked and that seemed to amuse your friend, who giggled.

You moved a little closer to him and decided to wrap your hand around his arm, an approach that he gladly received.

“I'm glad we're here, I really wanted to see you.”

“I know, you hardly come to Las Vegas anymore. When was the last time?"

“Eight months and thirteen days”

“Too long,” you said, with a certain melancholy, and Spencer raised his opposite hand to put it on yours, as if he wanted to apologize for having taken so long to return.

“To the left,” he murmured kindly to you, pointing his head in that direction.

“I'm following you without questioning you, you know? If we get lost, I won't even know."

“We arrived at the third checkpoint, right there,” he pointed out, with a proud smile. “Relax, don't you trust me? I am a genius"

“You're a show-off,” you laughed, resting your head on his shoulder for a second and feeling his do the same on the top of your head.

It felt good to be with him like that, like two old friends who know that no matter how much time passes, things won't change at all between them. You didn't know it, but Spencer had been going through a lot these past few months, and being with such a familiar face comforted him immensely, as if he could remember a time in the past that seemed happier and simpler.

“I think it's this way!” you heard next to you. It was a group of teenagers who were pointing down the path to the left at a fork and who seemed quite excited by the discovery they had just made. “We are going to win, it shouldn't be too far away”

“Stop,” Spencer murmured, surprising you and them. “It's not that way. "You must take the other path”

The young people debated for a moment whether they should follow a stranger's advice or their own conclusions and you believed that, in their place, you would have done the same; I mean, a couple of adults advising them is always strange, since they feel like they know everything in the world. Still, you decided to support them a little.

“Listen to him, we haven't gotten lost even once. He's a genius for these things.”

You almost saw Spencer make fun of you when he heard you call him a genius, when just seconds before you were calling him a braggart.

“What if you are lying to us?”

“I'm so sure it's that way that I'll greet you at the exit,” Spencer responded, with a small smile “It's not too far away, but if you want to take that path and it leads you to nothing, you just need to go back to the right one.”

After thinking about it for a while, the group made the best decision and after saying thank you, they began to walk on the side that Spencer had recommended, where you saw them get lost a couple of seconds later.

“Why did you help them?”

"Why don’t do it?" he responded with amusement.

You continued advancing while you held him and when you reached the place that had caused discord, he guided you to the opposite side where the teenagers had gone. Your brow furrowed and you tried to mutter something, but Spencer beat you to it.

“I know this isn’t where we should go,” he pointed out, as if wanting to calm your questions.

"And then?"

“I thought that if we take the right path, we will spend less time together.”

Your heart skipped a little when you heard what he was telling you and you smiled unconsciously, like you always did when you were with him.

You continued to hold his arm carefully and chatted the rest of the way, not even having to worry about where you were going because you knew that in the end he would guide you to the right place.

And you thought, maybe, that was part of the magic of being with Spencer Reid.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @vivian-555 @r-3dlips @rhiannonhippiegirl @taygrls @simp4f1 @sdddoobydoobydoo @taintedstranger @missabsey

[innuendostudios]

oh lookie another bite-sized Alt-Right Playbook. back me on Patreon plz.

transcript below the thingy.

Say, for the sake of argument, you’re twelve or thirteen, it’s the mid-90’s, you’re sitting across the table from your conservative aunt at a family reunion. (This aunt will, a decade from now, become a Tea Partier.) You have - you sweet, innocent child - brought up the subject of evolution, being too young to know it’s politicized, and your aunt has not taken well to it. She goes on one of her classic tirades, dismissing the very concept of evolution as patently ridiculous, dropping a quote that will stick with you for ages: “You can’t get snakes from chicken eggs.” And you do your best to explain, with your limited knowledge-base, that, yeah, you can only get a snake from a snake egg, but that snake is going to be a little different from its parents, and the next snake will be a little different from its parents, and you multiply that by a few million generations and you might have something very different from that original snake. Maybe something with legs, or that can breath underwater, or see better in the dark!

And your aunt stares you dead in the windows of your soul and repeats, “You Can’t Get Snakes From Chicken Eggs.”

This is an ego-saving maneuver in which a complex truth is rejected in favor of simplicity. Your aunt has a statement that is true, though non sequitur to the argument at hand. And, after your explanation of how genetics work on long timelines, she repeats her original statement to herself and it still feels true. It’s the belief that the truth is easily recognized, and that it’s always simple, because the world is simple, and, if you can’t explain it to me like I’m five, then you’re probably wrong or making things up.

This heuristic very hard to argue with. You’ve heard that same aunt claim the hole in the ozone layer is caused by sunspots. Now, we’ve talked about the memetic power of statements that are short, quippy, and wrong, and this is a fine example. You might feel the correct response is a statement that is short, quippy, and correct, but here’s the conundrum: the truth is “the hole in the ozone layer is caused by chlorofluorocarbons.” Not only is that a more complex sentence, it’s a more complex idea. If the ozone hole is caused by sunspots, then it’s probably been happening for billions of years, it’s not caused by humans, and we don’t have to do anything about it. It’s reassuring, and tells folks all they care to know without further questions. But the truth of how aerosols deplete ozone is more complex, not least because, even without knowing the science of it, it implies it’s a problem we should do something about.

Ultraviolet light makes CFCs release chlorine into the stratosphere, where it bonds with ozone, converting it into oxygen and chlorine monoxide, neither of which do what ozone does to protect us from the sun. There may be people who can explain that more simply than I just did, but there’s a floor to how simple the truth can be and still be the truth. Falsehoods don’t have that. There is no limit on how simple an idea can be when it doesn’t have to conform to reality.

You play the game of “who’s got the simplest argument,” liars win every time. You can’t get much simpler than “sunspots.” But if you can convince people that the world is complex, then simplistic explanations, across the board, become suspect. It might be too late to do that with your aunt, but maybe there’s still hope for your cousins.

If you’re wondering what they do when confronted with something they cannot deny is complicated: well, that’s your fault. You, or someone like you, took their simple world and overcomplicated it. All the conspiracy theories and fingerpointing and screenshots they’ve squiggled over in MS Paint, all of that is the story of how you overcomplicated the world; it fills in the gap between the simplicity of the world they believe in and the unambiguous complexity of the one in which we live. And, yes, that story is at least as complex as the truth you’re trying to tell them, and, no, it doesn’t make any sense, but that’s a detail. Because the moral of that story is incredibly simple: it is this way because some people made it this way, and all they have to do is take the power back from those people and things can be simple again. This is their version of “a wizard did it.”

[medlarmeadows]

We Were (Never) Meant To Be

prince!Charlie Slimecicle x lady-in-waiting!reader

Synopsis: You attempt to get your lady (and best friend) and your ex-boyfriend together.

Warning(s): none

Word Count: 955

A/N: This is based off an original story and character that came to me suddenly. There’s a whole lot of backstory (let me know if you want more?), but I just really wanted an excuse to write this scene out. Writing for Charlie is just an excuse to write out my original plots.

masterlist

You’re surveying the crowd occupying the palace garden with careful eyes. It wasn’t rare for the royal family to open their palace grounds for a festival, but it wasn’t the most frequent either.

Your eyes slide over to a prince with messy brown hair standing at the other side of the garden. He’s standing with his friends – other young noblemen – with a glass of champagne. The sun glints off the golden embroidery of his dark green dress shirt, emphasising the royalty that he is.

When you glance back up to his face, you’re suddenly locking gazes with the prince. Jolting, you turn away from him, ignoring how your heart still flutters when you stare into his eyes.

Letting out a breath, you nudge Princess Amelia, your best friend and your boss, gently with your elbow, saying, “You should go talk to him.”

Amelia pauses in her movements. She had been dancing with one of your other friends who was a noblewoman. Her lavender dress swishes around her legs as it is carried by the light breeze.

She raises an eyebrow at you and says, “You should go talk to him.”

You resist a flinch, but the hair on the back of your neck stands.

“As your lady-in-waiting, I am tasked to remind you that the two of you are betrothed,” you reply lowly, hands clamped together in front of the waist band of your lady-in-waiting uniform. It was a dark blue dress simpler than the nobles would wear, but fancier than most maids to signify your status as the princess’ right hand.

“Your parents would be disappointed if you don’t get together by the end of the week.”

“And as your lady,” she teases and begins swaying again, “I say that I don’t care about the betrothal. I’ve already told my parents that, and you know that too.”

You don’t match the teasing grin that she has, nor the light tone of her voice.

As your king and your queen, we command you to bring Princess Amelia and Prince Charles together as a couple according to the betrothal by the end of the festival week. You will face the consequences of your actions should you fail to do so.

“Mels,” you say quietly, a nickname only you and a few others got to call the princess, “disobeying the king and queen would be treason.”

“I’m literally their daughter.”

“For me.”

Amelia stops swaying, her demeanour turning serious.

“Did they say something to you?”

“They just gave me instructions – ”

“Did they threaten you?”

“Who threatened who?” says a familiar voice.

You flinch, turning around quickly to face Charlie. Prince Charlie. Prince Charlie who was kind, sweet, funny, and charming. Prince Charlie who was betrothed to Princess Amelia.

Prince Charlie whom you broke up with two years ago and haven’t talked to since.

“My parents threatened Y/N to get us together by the end of the week,” says Amelia before you can stop her.

Charlie’s eyebrows raise in disbelief.

“What?”

“They didn’t threaten me,” you lie through your teeth, stepping away from the man who had appeared behind you and refusing to look at him directly. “I’m just doing my job.”

“No,” scoffed Amelia, “you’re being a bad friend.”

“And you’re lying,” says Charlie at the same time.

You shoot him a glare, cursing him silently. Damn him for still remembering your tells.

Taking a quick glance around, you check for anyone listening in to your conversation. Your friend who was dancing with Amelia was now conversing with Charlie’s friends, sending the three of you occasional glances, but besides them, no one else seemed interested in your conversation.

“The fact is that you are betrothed to each other,” you deadpan. “You need to start dating publicly or – ”

“Or our parents will come after you?” questions Charlie, his arms now crossed over his chest. “You’re the one who broke up with me, I think they should be thanking you.”

You flinch again as Amelia comes to your defence.

“Charlie, don’t be mean.”

She sighs, running a hand through her hair. Reflexively, you reach up to adjust the jewellery around her braids, but she bats your hand away.

“I know you guys haven’t talked in two years, so maybe now is the time to do so. Maybe that is what can change our parents’ minds – ”

“Just drop it, Mels, please?” you plead with your best friend. “It’s not important.”

“What’s not important?” asks Charlie with a heated tone as he takes a step closer to you. “I wasn’t important to you? Our relationship wasn’t important to you?”

Suddenly, his hand shoots out to grab one of yours, pulling your hands apart. You hadn’t realised that you had started picking at your cuticles nervously. Something electric shoots up your arm from where his hand holds yours. His gaze softens, and you can’t bear to look him in the eye.

“Please,” he says softly. “Can we talk?”

You’re about to answer him when you see Amelia’s parents – the king and queen of the land – approach your trio from behind Charlie.

“Prince Charles! How nice it is to see you today,” the king begins to say.

You don’t catch the rest as you take advantage of Charlie’s distractedness to slip your hand out of his grip.

“I will prepare your gown for the evening, Your Highness,” you rush out to Amelia, ignoring her as she starts to call for you to stay.

Then, you’re rushing out of the garden and back into the palace, away from the king and queen, and your best friend and ex-boyfriend.

You miss the sceptical looks from the king and queen.

You miss the worried glance Amelia casts you. You miss Charlie’s longing gaze.

[cyberjello]

An Analysis of Alex Hill

Aka: "In Which Cyberjello Spends Too Many Words Projecting Onto One of His Favourite Characters"

If you're here from the SRS discord server, Hi! I noticed something neat about Alex, and because I either have nothing to say or way too much, I wrote this whole… thing about it. Enjoy!

On the other hand, if it's the future and you stumbled upon this post by chance and are still here because you like reading character analyses even when you know nothing about the character (like me), this is about Alex Hill. He's a main character from a webtoon called The Last Dimension, which you can read here (and should because it's great)! This pile of words contains some spoilers for the first and second seasons. Enjoy!

Alex is a pretty interesting character. Sometimes he's a massive jerk, and sometimes he feels really bad about having been a massive jerk. But 90% of the time he's a pretty chill dude (if a little insensitive) who doesn't seem to care about any particular issue. I've pointed out an example of this before; how in the span of a couple days he switched from harassing Phillip about not being normal, to telling him in no uncertain terms that his otherness didn't matter. At first I was a little mystified. It seemed weird for him to change his stance like that so quickly, yet at the same time it didn't feel out of character for him. So I thought about it a bit more, and then I had an epiphany.

Alex differs from the others in how he thinks. He doesn't worry about what could happen in the near future, like Fai does. He doesn't dwell on the implications behind pieces of information, like Phillip does. He's impulsive, quick to say whatever pops into his head, and rarely stops to consider the long-term consequences of his actions.

And gee, as a young fellow with ADHD who's only been medicated for less than ten years, that all sounds awfully familiar. And rereading TLD with that connection in mind has been quite interesting.

See, ADHD—or at least my particular flavour of it—does some interesting things with one's sense of importance. Past, present, and future are tossed aside in favour of a much simpler system: "Now" and "Not Now". Things that happen during "Not Now" are rarely factored into decisions made during "Now". Desires, ideas, and thoughts that happen "Now" are almost always a higher priority and given more immediate attention.

The most visible manifestation of this is impulsiveness: the moment at which you have an idea, something you could say or do, is Now. Anything else—be it a task you were just in the middle of doing, a favour somebody asked of you an hour ago that you should really get started on, or the possible future consequences of executing this idea—those are all Not Now, and therefore not important, in the unlikely event that they even come to mind. And you can definitely see that impulsiveness in Alex whenever he says something he really, really shouldn't.

But impulsiveness isn't the only thing that the Now/Not Now dichotomy is responsible for. One of the clearest places I've also noticed it is in how he treats Phillip. Remember how he switches from jerk to friendly almost on a dime? Yeah, he actually does that a lot in season 1, doesn't he? In fact, I've gone and taken SIXTEEN FRICKING SCREENSHOTS BETWEEN EPISODES 2-15 AND I'M GOING TO GO THROUGH AND TALK ABOUT EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THOSE MOMENTS BECAUSE I'M INSANE!!!

To start off though, I'm going to say what should be obvious to anyone who's read TLD: Alex isn't a mean person at heart. He cares a lot about those around him, including Phillip.

Anyway, in Episode 2 he acts like an absolute jerk to Phillip:

Clearly not the best of friends, are they? Well, you could have fooled me, because 15 minutes later, Alex is cheering him on and then looking out for him as he bluntly tells Phillip to "shift into [his] normal self".

And he proves to be a pretty good person after this. He's genuinely worried about Fai when she nearly drowns, and he's pretty friendly, if a bit cranky. But eventually it becomes clear how bad their situation is and all of a sudden—

—he's back to being a jerk.

But then Fai calls him out on it, and the effect is immediate.

He feels bad. He knows what he just did wasn't right. BUT THEN FIVE MINUTES LATER HE DOES IT AGAIN

Twice more this happens, where Alex is acting pretty friendly but then says something stupid, Fai tells him off, and he clearly feels bad immediately after—

—and then he acts like it never happened and he's genuinely friendly and nice again.

In fact, after that first day on Imash, he never says anything mean-spirited to or about Phillip again. Insensitive, sure, but not outright mean.

This isn't just Alex changing his opinion over the course of a couple days. This little flip-flop he does is a whole pattern that I'm going to go ahead and examine a little closer.

To start, let's compare the first two scenes I mentioned. In their room the Institute, Alex is frustrated that he has to share a room with Phillip. There's a good reason for him to not be upset; he does care about Phillip, and sharing a room with him would really help Phillip stay hidden. But Phillip's predicament—and more to the point, the effect it has on him that Alex perceives—currently rests in the far-off land of Not Now. Meanwhile in the land of Now, Alex doesn't get to be in a room with his other friends. Phillip's visible otherness is a painful reminder of the perceived betrayal from when he revealed his true form. To top it off, there's the background noise of Alex's frequent use as a guinea pig. There's a lot going on, and only one target to lash out at.

15 minutes later during the fall to Imash, all those things have entered Not Now. On the other hand, "I'm no longer falling to my doom thanks to Phillip" and "Fai and Anne are coming and are about to see Phillip" become Now. Looking out for Phillip is the Now Problem, sharing a room with him is a Not Now Problem.

But that's fairly normal, isn't it? Of course Alex is going to be nice to the person who just saved his life. Let's continue.

After they swim the shore, Alex is actually relatively friendly with Fai, in contrast to the name-calling and snarkery he used with her and Susi back at the Institute. Because Now, Fai isn't someone annoying trying to get in his way, she's just someone stuck here along with him.

Speaking of which, he doesn't seem all too concerned about what just happened. Annoyed, maybe, but not worried. After all, nothing bad is happening Now. But then Anne finds a tablet with an alien language on it, and the fact that they're not in Kansas anymore suddenly becomes a very big, very obvious Now Problem. Alex finally feels the true gravity of the situation, and lashes out at Phillip. (This provides a decent example of that impulsiveness again, where Alex's brain makes a connection and he acts on it Now.) Which brings me to my next observation, which is that Fai, by intervening, basically gives Alex the opportunity to realize when he's in the wrong.

Now, this part brings back a lot of memories from before I started taking medication for my ADHD. I used to tease my sister relentlessly. As Paranatural's Ed Burger puts it:

As I myself can testify, that bit about the reactions is the key here, ESPECIALLY when one has ADHD and that immediate reaction, the thing that happens Now, is practically the only thing that matters here. When I used to mess with my sister, I hated making her sad and felt awful wherever that happened. But angry? When she got angry and chased me around the house I thought was hilarious. It was that brief but very much Now moment of entertainment that motivated me. However, we've seen that Phillip doesn't give much of a reaction when bullied. He freezes up and then afterward, he disappears somewhere for half an hour to cry where no-one will see it:

And I believe that LACK of an immediate reaction is just as important. Alex has a lot of crap in his life to move him to take it out on Phillip. He doesn't need a reaction to do it, but the absence thereof means he never immediately sees how much Phillip suffers because of it. It never becomes apparent Now, when he's able to notice. But then along comes Fai, who does react when he says something hurtful about somebody else. And it's her reaction that makes him stop and become able to realize that what he was doing. He genuinely feels bad because as I said earlier, he doesn't want to be mean, he's just never able to notice when he is.

There's one other things I want to point out about the Now/Not Now thing. When you have something that could happen or will happen in the future, something that could affect you in some way, it doesn't really seem real. It's not immediately affecting you, it's Not Now, so there's no need to worry. And I see this in Alex a LOT.

These are his thoughts about seeing a giant energy beam appear in the distance: "I'm tired; it's not a Now Problem, I don't feel like thinking about it right now." The reason I find this familiar is because it's exactly what my brain would tell me whenever I sat down to do homework with a far-off deadline. And later, when Alex and Fai tell Phillip about Fai's bad vision about him, he very clearly isn't thinking about the contents of the vision itself; they're not happening Now, after all. He doesn't seem even a little worried about it, unlike Fai.

Now, I'm not going to outright say "Alex might canonically have ADHD" because I'm not a brain biologist who knows how to look for this stuff, nor do I know if this was intentional. (I'm also never been one to form headcanons, I typically stare at canon and go, "yup, that's pretty cool!") But I will say that I have ADHD, and I see a lot of myself in Alex, which is pretty neat.

[scottsummers-xmen]

Why does he have to be the person everyone goes to? What happened to following the rules and listening to instructions? Why did he become the caretaker instead of the one being taken care of?

Scott thinks back to a simpler time when he’d get praise after a good mission. A “You followed instructions perfectly Scott.” He’d get a sticker or some ice cream if he got injured.

Maybe that's what led to his self sacrificial tendencies. Under all that compassion and heroism was a boy wanting a “good job kiddo.”

And that's just pathetic. He knew what he was getting into when he took the job. He knew being a leader was a thankless job so he shouldn't be complaining.

Scott lays in bed, curled up, hugging himself. He’s breaking and he’s mad. Mad at everyone practically willing it into existence that he’d break. Everyone told him one day he’d snap. What did they know about him anyway?

Scott glances at the picture on his desk of the team…himself missing from the picture… What did they know about him…anyway..? He’s so focused on leading, do they know the real him?...

Does he know the real him?

Scott’s anger melts away and tears fall from under his visor. He’s lost himself in his leadership. What happened to the kid that liked carving wood? What happened to the kid that adored science? What happened to that young boy who had idols and dreams?

His head hurts.

He needs someone. He needs comfort. He needs guidance. He can’t do this anymore.

He’s supposed to be in a meeting. He’s late like the fucking disappointment he is. People are counting on him and here he is being so damn vulnerable. What would they think? Seeing him so pathetic. Crying in bed, hugging himself like some dumb, love-starved dog.

Scott shudders, he feels nauseous. Why is his mind so mean? They were supposed to be on the same team. He feels bad. His head hurts real bad and it feels like there's a hole in his chest. He did too much talking today. Too many people. Too much responsibility. So. Many. Questions.

He wants cuddles. Maybe someone to pet his hair? That would be nice. Tell him how good of a job he’s been doing. How brave and strong he is.

Maybe if he reached out to-

NO!

He wants to reach out? Reach out to who? He’s supposed to lead. How could they still see him as a leader if they get stuck dealing with his irritating vulnerability? If they didn't see him as a leader what good was he? Just some guy with eye issues? No no.. He can't do that. He has to lead.

What about.. Charles?

Charles? The man he disappoints time and time again? The person who saved him and he can't even make the damn man proud?

“He appears to have abandoned you boy. How sad.” Abandoned.. “Another father gone away.”

…

He just wants to make him proud. He wants the Professor to take pride in him. In the leader he changed himself into. The leader Charles wanted.

He certainly didn't feel like a leader right now. His body hurt, the world was spinning. He was crumbling and he just wanted someone.

…

Anyone.

…

He’ll be good. He’ll listen so well. Just care about him please. That's all he wants. Someone to take pride in what he does.

He can’t seem to anymore.