#the montclair times

[htyfnetwork]

DELEGATE OF THE DAY - Dalha Usman

from The Montclair Times, February 20, 1969

[iveneverbeenanaturalt]

i think it's interesting how we find out in the wicked ones that celine wasn't exactly a victim in the amatis/stephen divorce situation. i mean, she was certainly a victim of valentine, but in the case of amatis and stephen's divorce, she wasn't the victim—in fact, amatis was the only victim. stephen, of course, was the most guilty, since he was the one who was married and the one who decided to end his marriage because valentine told him to, and marry a girl he referred to as a child

[shinymisty-blog]

Who wants a Sonic Underground Swapped AU

I’ve been a huge fan of Undertale for a pretty long time. And one of my favorite things about it was the concept of “different timelines/universes” that so many fans started to make. I know AUs have been around for a long time, longer than Undertale, but it was because of Undertale that I started thinking of AU ideas. 

Case in point: A Sonic Underground AU where all the characters' roles and personalities are swapped. 

A…Sonic Underswap, if you will. (I am going to hell)

The idea smacked me last night when I thought “...hmm. Wouldn’t it be funny to imagine a Manic who grew up in Sonia’s shoes?” It then formed into wondering “Who would switch with who?” So… I will jot down what I think a Sonic Underground Swap would be like.

And, while I would pull the whole “the triplets are evil” idea…but where’s the fun in that?! (...aside from a lot of fun to begin with). This is playing with the idea that MOST of the characters are still the same when it comes to their placement in the story. 

There is one HUGE exception:

Obviously, Aleena and Robotnik would HAVE to swap places. This would mean Aleena becomes the “tyrant ruining Mobius” while Robotnik is hiding away, hoping to one day take Aleena down. 

So the story would go like this:

Fearful over the thought that her newborn children could overthrow her, Aleena abandons them shortly after birth in hopes of ruling. Even if she is a really bad leader. Brushing off the struggles of her people as she feels they aren’t worth her time. Only those who pay the outrageous tax have her attention, and they never really have any struggles, to begin with.

Robotnik, being an outsider notices just how horrible she is running Mobius and plots to take her down. With the help of Athair’s future visions and elderly wisdom, he realizes that her children are alive and are destined to fix what their mother has caused.

However, Aleena didn’t deal with her children as well as she had expected, and they were raised by three different families.

As mentioned, Manic would be raised in the higher class, with Sir Farrell as his father. Raised to use and abuse the lower class and how much they need to rely on the upper class to stay safe, and he isn’t afraid to admit that. But, hey, at least he has a close friendship with [_____], though even that is stripped away when he was exiled due to Aleena realizing her children were a risk. Now he feels like an outcast when he joins up with Sonia and Sonic, both lower class and slightly spiteful over Manic’s upbringing. 

But he does know how the upper class works, and what makes them tick.

Sonia, meanwhile, takes Sonic’s role. 

After all, if she didn’t fill this tier, Sonic wouldn’t have changed. And, honestly, I feel the idea that Manic being raised high class and Sonia fighting with the Rebels (the Resistance) gives better story ideas over Sonic being raised high class and Sonia being poor.

Anywho, Sonia was raised by Windemere, a high-status member of the Anti-Royal Movement, better known as the Rebels. She was adopted by Windermere after her “original” family was killed during a raid. Since then she has been fighting for what she felt was right. She is heartbroken during a raid when she finds out that Windermere was caught and, later, was found out to have been hiding one of Aleena’s children. 

She is well known by the Rebels. 

Sonic was found by Chuck, who’s been struggling hard since Aleena’s rules made it harder and harder for the lower class to survive. Everything has gotten so expensive (mood), and he wasn’t going to rescue the infant, but he couldn’t abandon a life in need. Sonic grew up knowing that life is harsh and mean. Don’t trust anyone but yourself, ESPECIALLY the higher class. That makes him and Manic not get along really…at all. 

Sonic is still the fastest, and his speed helps with snatching up food and money. But mostly food. 

Aleena is warned by Athiar about her eventual demise, causing her to stress out and hire Dingo and Sleet, famous mercenaries who can easily find and…silence almost any targets. For the right price, of course.  (...I think you are seeing where this is going)

Though he relies more on his brawn than his brain, Dingo is still the leader of the duo, always more focused on his work, and less focused on anything else. However, he has to always remind himself to keep a close eye on his absent-minded partner, Sleet, and he is starting to wonder if the wolf would even notice if he left him mesmerized by something. It doesn’t help that Aleena’s influence is beginning to rub off on him. Why worry about a mobian that causes him more trouble than he’s worth?

Sleet’s mind’s in the right place. He’s smart, and when he’s able to focus on the job, he can be a real threat. Too bad he’s easily distracted and is amazed by everything and anything and will often leave Dingo to do most of the heavy lifting. It doesn’t help that Sleet thinks that Manic is super cool and admires being JUST like him one day. He never realizes that his constant admiring is getting on Dingo’s nerves, though. It’s always work work work with that canine. Can’t he stop and enjoy the moment once in a while?

All his life, Cyrus was raised to believe that everything Queen Aleena said was law and that those below him were just obstacles in his way. But when his long-time friend, Manic, was found to be the Queen’s son and she wanted him gone before he and his siblings could overthrow her, Cyrus finds himself in a pickle. Maybe, if Manic accepts that Aleena is the true Queen and promises to not try and defy her, he’d get his friend back. Why even worry about the others when he had everything he needed if he just behaved? 

Knowing Sonia from the Rebels Group made Bartleby a target for manipulation for Aleena, trying to trick the mink into luring the Rebels out and punishing them for all their wrongdoings, all to protect what remains of his family’s history. But once he realizes that the lives of innocent mobians would be at stake, he quickly breaks away from her control and vows to help the Rebels in any way he can. His love for the arts helps him create things, though they seem to be more dangerous than helpful. It’s the thought that counts, right?

The other prevalent member of the Rebels is Knuckles. Cunning and decently strong to boot, he makes good support for the group. He also knows a bit about nature, so that’s a plus. Early on, he was captured by Aleena, who attempted to learn a thing or two about the growing Rebels, but the triplets quickly saved him when Sonia realized he was in danger, as the two knew each other from childhood. 

Under the watchful eyes of “Delphius” (The Oracle isn’t “the Oracle”, but is replacing Athiar), Trevor is destined to watch over the Chaos Emerald resting within the Floating Islands. Good with the few mechanical items he can find littering the Island, he became quite a handyman, making small weapons and other things to keep the Emerald, and the Island, safe.

If it isn’t obvious, Cyrus and Bartleby swap while Knuckles and Trevor swap. 

It was…hard trying to figure out who would take Knuckles’ place, as he is kind of…REALLY strongly tied to the Emeralds. But, Trevor has as much character as Knuckles does in the show, so it fits. 

I also find it funny that the two characters that have some sort of relationship with Sonia…STILL have relations with Sonia, just differently. (Seeing as Bartleby and Knuckles take Cyrus and Trevor’s place, who were friends of Sonic originally).

The Oracle (or just “Delphius”) and Athiar also switch places. The Oracle was a strong contender for the one switching with Robotnik, but…Athiar makes more sense in the long term. Both are old. Most likely DEAD already. One is cryptic while the other is a bit of a fearful hermit. 

So, yeah. There we go. There are other characters in Underground, and they’d all switch around as well, but I’m gonna leave this here for now with the more important characters.

[lesbocrocker]

Sophie: You know usually I hate men but Jem is such a sweetheart and he has really nice hands….

Cecily: He’s really fine, I would go for it if it wasn’t for Tessa and my brother and stuff.

Lily: Brother SNACKariah

Matthew: Jem could totally pull anyone he wanted.

Sister Emilia: You know…. If his is the last male face I ever see…. I’d be totally chill with that.

Cèline: He’s actually very attractive.

Isabelle: He’s reallllly hot for a Silent Brother.

Tessa and Will: *would quite literally do anything for Jem*

Jem: I’m so ugly….. so unattractive……. who could love me…….

[the-nation-of-today]

BVB official socials posted absolutely ZERO professional photos of the Montclair show so fuck it I’m doing it myself

(📸: Lori Schneider/@lorischneiderphotography on insta)

(Matt Bishop/Matt Bishop Photo on Facebook)

[adarafaelbarba]

!!New oc time!!

Dylan, 31, daemon

Born and raised in Chicago.

Lives in London where she runs her own café and small online business.

Has tattoos, piercings and usually colorful hair like bubblegum pink.

[softersinned]

@montclair said: ❝ do you want me to kill him? ❞

In truth, she has never known silence. Prior to her death she could hear the ever-present rush of water, in the earth and in the body, its singing presence in the air. In the aftermath of her murder she hears everything, from the steady breath and pulse of the city to the uneven skittering of insects and the snuffling exhale of rats. When she was locked away, it was maddening, to hear the world as it changed and know she could not be a part of it, and in the rare moments when she could break free, it was overwhelming. It is easier, she's learned, with him.

The weight of his hand on her shoulder is a comforting one. She is more beast than woman, feral and ruined as she is, but his presence cuts through the haze of noise and hunger and blood. Astoria rolls her eyes up to him, her stained lips curling up into a smile of open relief as he looks down at her, and she's warmed by the sight of a smile offered to match her own.

At her feet, her prey moans, unconscious from the loss of blood but not dead, but neither one of them looks down. Instead, Baldwin moves his hand from her shoulder to grip her chin, and he brushes his thumb across her mouth to catch the blood gathered there. "Quite a change," he observes, "from your arrival."

She knows him well enough to hear the approval in his voice. Astoria feels herself leaning, just barely, into his touch, and it only reawakens her hunger, slaked though it had been by her hunt. A different hunger, this time, and some piece of her she doesn't understand urges her to sink to her knees before him and bare her throat, to offer herself up to be devoured, to be destroyed, but she tamps it down. "Did I do as you wished?" she asks instead, and Baldwin nods, releases her chin and holds his hand out to her to guide her over the body.

It has been a difficult road. No one taught her to pace herself as she fed, and so on the rare occasions she could hunt for herself she gorged, unsure of when she would next satisfy the ever-present agony of starvation. She drank until she was sick with it, and she was starved again when she was brought back under control and locked away once more. Baldwin's task has been a difficult one; of this, she has no doubt. For years she killed if left unattended or to her own devices. Then, it was only the pressure of his hand at the back of her neck, or on her shoulder, or in her hair that could drag her away once she'd begun.

The deaths were fewer, farther between, infinitely more deliberate with his guidance. This is the second time she's managed it on her own. The first, he had given her instruction; tonight, she remembered.

She takes the offered hand and steps delicately over her prey. No doubt he will wake in the morning with a headache and assume he simply drank too much the night before. "Leo expected you would have to kill me before you succeeded in teaching me," she points out dryly, and Baldwin chuckles humorlessly.

"And when he told you this, did you believe him?"

"In the moment, yes."

"And yet you still made your demand that he turn you over to me."

There is little need to breathe, but she still lets out a slow exhale. "Anything was better than that."

"Even death?"

She doesn't answer. Baldwin keeps hold of her hand to guide her out of the alley, and when they've reached the street again, he releases her. Her eyes land on his mouth as he slips the tip of his thumb past his lips, just enough to lick his skin clean, and that hunger returns, so powerfully she feels herself ache with it.

"Why did you never try to kill him?"

"Did he tell you that?"

Baldwin laughs, now, and he begins to walk, not bothering to look back at her to see if she'll follow. She always does.

The sound makes her near-euphoric, and she chases after it. "I tried twice. The first time he nearly killed me in response. Then he realized that there were things I feared worse than dying, and he kept me in an iron collar and chains, like a mad dog, until I learned my lesson."

For a moment, she thinks she sees a burst of fury in his eyes, in the set of his shoulders and his jaw, and Astoria tries not to linger on it. "And what lesson did you learn, my Duellona?"

"That the next time I tried to kill him," she says simply, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world, "I had best succeed."

He smiles, now, really smiles, and she feels the warmth of it spread through her body, feels the overwhelming desire for that smiling mouth on her skin, those perfect teeth sinking into her flesh, that tongue sweeping up her blood. Even digging her fingernails into her palms until she breaks the skin isn't enough to distract her from it.

For several minutes, Baldwin is silent, considering the information he's learned and his next words. She speaks of her past rarely enough that, even after two decades together, he still knows relatively little of the near-century that passed before she was brought to him. "He treated you abominably." Like a horse to be broken, and, when that failed, like a dog to be put down. "It's a wonder you didn't try a third time."

"Begging your forgiveness—I know he's your family—but if I tried a third time, even my own death could not prevent me from dragging him to Hell, in pieces if I must, at my side."

His eyes find hers again. "Do you want me to kill him?" The question is asked with all the gravity she might expect, and Astoria suppresses a shiver. She swallows, hard, and she wonders if she's being tested. She's certain that she is. She could lie, but somehow she thinks he would smell the dishonesty on her lips.

"Yes," she says simply, "but I want to kill him myself even more."

"Even if it takes time? Years? Decades? Centuries?"

Astoria smiles then, and she raises an eyebrow, steps closer to him as they walk, until they are nearly touching. "Have you not taught me patience?" she purrs in response, and he laughs again, and the sound makes her feel dizzy with need.

She listens for him the rest of the night, in the house they share. She listens for him and she thrills at the reminder that the world will never be silent again.

[4uru]

Jace: *exists*

Me: ew🤢🤮

Celine: *literally just as bad except for thr incest shit*

Me: 💍💍💍💍

[therealsirsticker]

so in my sonic underground rewrite bartleby after shooting Sonia on an eggman airship in the middle of his morality crisis coming to a head gets exploded along with the ship after the hedgehogs narrowly escape ad he lands on angel island, very unconscious and barely alive, where knuckles finds him (and the two have not ever met each other before or know of each other’s existence) and helps this mysterious injured random guy. By the way the shooting Sonia and exploding is like the season one finale. Bartleby spends the majority of season two stuck on angel island dealing with the aftermath of his morality crisis, helping out knuckles bc knuckles helped him and what else is he going to do, they become friends (and maybe develop a Thing, I haven’t decided yet) eventually the hedgehogs show up on the island for whatever reasons and there’s a confrontation bc the last time they saw him, he shot sonia. And knuckles didn’t know this and he feels betrayed and bartleby runs off all dramatic bc it’s him, emotions cool off a bit and they go after bartleby to talk and he apologizes and tells them that he’s on their side now, but he wants to stay on angel island until he’s needed. They make up, yayyy hugs and friendship.

[bosbas]

Chapter 11: tell me I've got it wrong somehow

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 4.3k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, small part of the dialogue in French, idiots in love!!, mentions of violence (nothing too graphic), mentions of blood

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

A/N: FINALLY. except not really. oops!

June 30, 1816 – If last night’s ball was any indication, it seems Lady Y/N has lost interest in finding a husband this season. More than a few whispers indicate that the Montclairs will journey to Spain to find better prospects for their youngest daughter. Let this be a call to action to the eligible bachelors of the ton so that they might consider being more… enticing suitors for our beloved Y/N. All this, of course, is to ensure that the Montclairs do not flee to the Spanish sun at the conclusion of the season. If nothing else, the Montclairs must stay so we can avoid losing Lady Y/N’s much-needed sense of style.

Colin stared in disbelief at Lady Whistledown’s column, letting it fall from his hands as he leaned back in his bed. If you were going to Spain at the end of the season anyway, why was he still here? He’d much rather be as far away as possible from anything that even remotely reminded him of you. 

Unfortunately, Daphne had given him some sort of misguided hope that staying in England would magically make you like him. Or perhaps make you hate him a little less. But it was becoming increasingly apparent that this was not the case. 

He wasn’t exactly sure what had changed from one day to the next, but you could barely look at him now. After your promenade, Colin thought you’d finally put your differences aside, and he could, at some level, be grateful to Lord Barlow for that, even if the man had acted completely indecently. 

But the truce didn’t last. 

Just three days ago, he’d run into you on the way to your father’s study to discuss pearl diving, and his heart had nearly skipped a beat when he saw you. You looked beautiful as ever, of course, and he was just staring at you dumbly, wanting to take in as much of you as possible.

You’d been humming as you walked down the hallway, smiling softly to yourself as you passed by a particularly large flower arrangement you had most likely received from a suitor. At that moment, Colin was sure that if you ever looked at him like that he would never recover.

Colin had tried to call out to you. Maybe if you were out of sight of the rest of the ton, you’d be more willing to speak with him. But the words had died in his throat as you had looked up and spotted him, just staring at you, across the room. 

Your eyes had widened, and your demeanor had instantly changed. A switch from serene to shaken so sudden that Colin had barely had time to react before you had clutched your skirts and ducked into the nearest room.

And though Colin had traveled halfway across the globe largely on his own, he had never felt so far from someone. 

Even now, in his room, away from Montclair House, he couldn’t help the deep shame that washed over him as he recalled how immediately you had rushed to get away from him. And Colin still had no idea why.

That was the worst part of it all. If he only knew what the problem was, he’d fix it. He’d do anything to be with you. Colin had had more than his fair share of escapades during his time abroad, but nothing even came close to the feeling he got when he was around you. The only person he’d known to dislike him. It was a cruel twist of fate, and he’d think it was funny if he didn’t physically ache with the need to be near you.

The irony of the situation was not lost on Colin. The more he was consumed by you, the more you pulled away. He’d been doing his best to avoid social functions for this very reason, but he feared he would not be able to do the same tonight. 

“Colin?” called Violet, peeking her head through his door. “Is everything alright? You look a bit…”

“I’m fine,” insisted Colin, wiping his slightly damp eyes and sniffing as he sat up.

“Anthony and Kate are hosting a ball tonight,” said Violet carefully. Colin’s recent absence from balls had not escaped her notice, but as much as she felt for her obviously lovesick son, he was not excused from familial duties. 

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“And you will be in attendance.”

Colin groaned. “Must I really be there? It’s one ball!”

“Actually, it’s been something like fifteen balls,” Violet shot back, unimpressed. “And I have graciously allowed you to be absent from them, but you will not miss your brother’s ball. You are still a Bridgerton. We do not miss family events.”

 Sensing he didn’t quite have a choice, Colin sighed, “Very well, then. Could I at least continue sulking before we go?”

Violet laughed softly and gave her son a sympathetic smile. “It’s not a bad thing, you know. Being in love. Even if it’s a complicated situation such as this one.”

“I’m not in love!” lied Colin. “It’s just… I don’t know. It’s not love.”

Violet raised her eyebrows pointedly but said nothing, closing the door quietly as she left her son’s room. 

Once he was alone again, Colin let out a frustrated groan and rubbed his temples. You would more than likely be in attendance tonight, and he needed to prevent what had happened in your hallway from happening again. He didn’t think he could bear having you practically sprinting away from him as soon as you saw him again.

Colin would simply have to stay out of sight of you. It was the only way he could stay at the ball. He didn’t ever want to look into your eyes and see the disdain and hurt that he saw three days ago. So, he decided he would be a wallflower tonight. Anything to keep you from seeing him. He would need to exercise a gargantuan amount of self-control to stay away from you when being near was the one thing he wanted, but the pained look in your eyes that haunted his sleep was enough to keep him in check.

---

Viscount Bridgerton’s ball was proving to be a supremely amusing affair. Your mother had decided that Louis should start looking for a wife, never mind that he was only two-and-twenty, and you were thoroughly enjoying watching how he was passed around from eligible lady to eligible lady. 

After nearly an hour of dancing and politely chatting, your brother finally stumbled over to where you were standing. Of course, you couldn’t help but snicker as he muttered something or other about needing a drink. 

“Tais-toi,” muttered Louis, crossing his arms over his chest as he crossed his breath (Shut up). “Maman veut aussi que tu danses avec quelqu'un” (Mother also wants you to dance with someone).

You turned to him, eyes wide. “Vraiment?” (Really?).

“Oui, c'est un autre duc,” Louis nodded and smiled evilly, gesturing toward where your mother was speaking to someone who looked to be at least Philippe’s age, if not older (Yes, it’s another duke). 

“Non, mais je peux pas,” you whined (No, but I can’t). You thought your mother had given up on finding you a husband for this season, but you supposed she couldn’t help herself if it was a duke. Even if he were a prince, you were not so sure that you would want to speak with him. 

Nigel Berbrooke and Lord Barlow, and you supposed Colin Bridgerton, too, had significantly dampened your excitement for the season. At this point, you were just looking forward to going to Paris for a few months once the season was officially over and trying to find a husband again in Spain next year.

But you didn’t even want to think about that. It felt like you were preparing for a prison sentence. One last year of traveling before you were limited to the confines of your future husband’s home with no escape other than your own mind. It was a chilling thought, and you were trying your hardest to avoid thinking about it. However, having your mother chatting you up to a duke was complicating that a bit.

Standing beside you, Louis was feeling quite annoyed after one grueling evening of speaking to unmarried ladies and their mamas. However, he knew that you had experienced about fifty times that many. So, taking pity on you, he leaned down and whispered, “Va dans le jardin, vite. Avant qu'elle ne revienne” (Go to the gardens, quick. Before she comes back).

Your eyes looked to the open doors leading to the gardens, and you decided the slightly nippy air was worth it if you could escape your mother and the unnamed duke. There were enough people outside that there was no risk of being caught in a compromising position, but it was far away enough from the ballroom that you knew your mother wouldn’t be able to find you immediately. 

Flashing your brother a grateful smile and squeezing his arm, you practically ran toward the exit, wanting to get away as soon as possible. Once you were outside, you maneuvered yourself so you were hidden behind a fairly large plant, but still had a view of the ballroom through the window. 

As Louis had predicted, your mother had come back to where you had been standing, duke in tow. She gave Louis a questioning look when she didn’t see you, and he simply shrugged, pointing to the other side of the ballroom. You sighed in relief, silently thanking your brother and promising to stop being quite so irritating toward him.

“Y/N?” you heard a voice say behind you. 

Your stomach dropped. You turned around slowly, growing nervous as Lord Barlow came into your line of vision. 

“Lord Barlow,” you said, feigning politeness in an attempt to avoid a scene. Your last interaction with him had not gone so smoothly, and you were afraid of what he would do now.

“So it is you,” said Arthur Barlow, his face contorting into an ugly sneer. He had never sounded so chilling when you were courting him, but you supposed at that time you hadn’t done yet anything to make him act so abrasive.

You cleared your throat nervously, looking around to see who else was nearby. But it seemed that everyone was too intrigued by this confrontation to put a stop to it. You internally cursed the duke for showing up at the exact moment that you wanted to be inconspicuous, but you smiled politely anyway. 

“I hope you’re doing well,” you said awkwardly, not quite sure what else to say. 

It seemed like the right thing at the moment, seeing as how no one, not even Lady Whistledown, knew what he’d been doing since he proposed to you. However, Barlow’s quickly narrowing eyes clued you in to the fact that it had actually been the exact wrong thing to say. 

“You hope I’ve been doing well? You hope? I’m sure you do, Lady Montclair,” he said sarcastically, fury evident in his voice. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to learn that the Barringtons are positively drowning in debt. Sorry, were drowning in debt, since I had to pay off all of their debts once I was forced to marry into the family. And now I’m in financial ruin, all thanks to you. You, Y/N, have brought on the downfall of the Duke of Monmouth.”

You would be lying if you said you weren’t the least bit pleased that things had turned out poorly for Arthur Barlow. But more than satisfaction, all you felt was indignation as you looked at the pathetic man in front of you. 

“I believe it was your decision alone to go outside the night of the Bridgerton ball, Lord Barlow,” you said, trying to sound as biting as possible. “It is a shame that your hubris has ruined your dukedom, but kindly leave me out of it.”

Barlow’s frown deepened and his eyes narrowed further, if that was even possible, as he practically shook out of barely contained anger. 

“You harlot!” he screamed at you, raising his hand and reaching out to you. 

“Barlow, you will cease at once!” came a commanding voice next to you. 

You turned to see Colin Bridgerton at your side, and you couldn’t help the flutter in your stomach that you felt every time you saw him. But now was not the time to get distracted by inconsequential feelings. 

“It’s alright, you don’t need to do this,” you urged Colin. “It’s not worth it. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

And surprisingly, you meant what you said. As much as you disliked Colin Bridgerton, you had no desire to see him hurt, even less so because of you. In some twisted way, you cared about this man. Far more than you cared about Lord Barlow, whom you had been ready to marry at one point in time. And more than anything it made you impossibly frustrated. 

Upon hearing Colin, Arthur scoffed and turned to face him. “I see you’re happy to be next in line for my cast-offs, Bridgerton. But let me tell you, she’s far too uptight, that one. Won’t even put out when you tell her to.”

Immediately, your spine stiffened, anticipation tingling through your nerves as you sensed the mounting tension in the air. Colin growled lowly, clenching his fists and stepping closer to Lord Barlow. Yet, just as it seemed he might strike, the duke swiftly sidestepped, causing the Bridgerton to stumble.

Your lips parted in a silent scream as you saw Lord Barlow aim his fist at Colin. You watched, as if in slow motion, how Arthur’s knuckles made contact with Colin’s nose, and you felt tears welling in your eyes as he fell to his knees, his head thrown back with the force of the duke’s punch.

“Colin!” you screamed, finally finding your voice. You could barely breathe, feeling like your heart was beating out of your chest. 

You rushed to his side, only vaguely registering that Lord Barlow was being roughly escorted out of the garden and likely out of the ball as well. Your eyes were glued to Colin, who was groaning in discomfort and bleeding profusely out of his nose. 

“Colin, are you alright?” you gasped, kneeling beside him, and clutching his arms as you choked back sobs, your heart still beating out of your chest. “You shouldn’t have done that,” you scolded, tears running down your face as you found yourself unable to be civil with him even when he was kneeling on the ground with a bloody– and most likely broken– nose. 

Colin, who was clutching his nose and groaning in pain, shot you an amused look. “Do I at least get some credit for trying to defend your honor?”

He sniffed, wiping away some of the blood with his hand, and reached for a handkerchief by his breast pocket. You were staring at him, horrified, as the blood kept streaming and he winced in pain. You had stopped sobbing now, but a steady stream of tears remained on your face as the panic mounted in you. 

“Colin, you shouldn’t have done that,” you whispered again, trying and failing to sound upset with him as you instinctively reached out to wipe some blood off his cheek. You hiccupped as you reached over, trembling slightly as you did, but his hand caught yours before it could touch his face.

He suddenly smiled wide, and you rather thought he looked a bit deranged. There was blood on his face and his hands and he looked more than a little banged up, but he was still smiling widely at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

“Can you say that again?” he asked, his eyes searching yours.

“Say what? That you shouldn’t have done that?” you sniffled, wanting to cross your arms over your chest in annoyance but not wanting to let go of his hand. 

“No, the part before that,” he said, smiling cheekily as he intertwined your fingers with his.

“How are you smiling after someone broke your nose?” you said, growing irritated with him but not quite letting go of his hand yet. “You could have gotten seriously hurt. That was a stupid thing to do, Colin-”

“Yes, that. Again,” he pleaded, the yearning evident on his softly smiling face as he grabbed his handkerchief with his free hand, holding it up to stop the flow of blood from his nose.

“Colin-”

“Yes, that’s it. Just say that again.”

You shot him a confused look. “Colin?” 

Is that what he wanted you to say? His name?

“Yes?” he pressed, smiling wide at you. “Can you say that again, please?”

“Again? Colin, why-”

“You hadn’t ever called me Colin before,” he said, looking at you wistfully. “I like how it sounds when you say it.”

“Oh,” you gasped softly. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Bridgerton, I forgot myself. It-”

“No, please,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t bear to have you call me Mr. Bridgerton one more time.”

You averted your gaze and bit your lip, suddenly feeling very conflicted. This was Colin Bridgerton. This was the man who had jumped at the first opportunity to compromise you once he heard you didn’t put out for Lord Barlow. You could not be on a first-name basis with him. 

“Y/N,” he said softly, cautiously. 

And suddenly you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach. Maybe you could allow yourself to be on a first-name basis with him. Maybe it felt too good to hear him say your name. Maybe you weren’t strong enough to hold him at arm’s length, and a half arm’s length would have to do. 

“Colin.”

“I didn’t give him access to that terrace, you know,” Colin spoke, a hint of indignation lacing his words. 

You nodded, lifting your gaze to meet his. “I know. I was looking for anyone to blame when Lord Barlow was the only one who wronged me. Your mother told me he forced the door open.” 

“I could never have done that to you, it would’ve been unseemly” Colin insisted, gripping your hand tighter. 

But you froze. Couldn’t he have done that to you? Based on what you knew about him, he certainly could have. But it was so difficult to parse the man who had just now defended you against Lord Barlow, who was sitting on the ground next to you and holding your hand, with the man who had wanted to continue Nigel Berbrooke’s disgusting conversation at the Danbury ball. 

Feeling you stiffen, Colin’s heart clenched. This couldn’t be happening again. What had he done wrong this time? He was here, on the ground, literally bleeding for you, and you still had something against him. 

“Please talk to me,” Colin begged, suddenly feeling very desperate to fix whatever was happening between you once and for all. “If you want me never to speak to you again, I will do that, but I must know. I must know why you hate me.”

You shifted uncomfortably, retracting your hand from Colin’s and placing it on your lap as you looked anywhere except for him. 

“I don’t hate you-” you started weakly, but he was having none of it.

“Oh, spare me. I am not a fool. You hated me from the moment you saw me in Lady Danbury’s ballroom, even before our rivalry properly began.”

You bit your lip anxiously. If you were to tell Colin why you truly disliked him, and he was to take it in bad faith, you would be finished. Colin could tell everyone that you had been unchaperoned in the presence of two men of the ton, and given his place in society, no one would hesitate to believe him. 

But it was exhausting. Hating him was far more difficult than anything you’d ever done, and you weren’t particularly eager to keep doing it. Perhaps this was the only way to let go, and trusting Colin right now would make things infinitely easier. 

You finally met his gaze, feeling his blue eyes boring into yours. There was no anger in his expression, just a look of concern, with a hint of something else you couldn’t recognize. 

Resigned, you sighed. “I saw you with Nigel Berbrooke at the Danbury ball before you even asked me to dance,” you explained. 

A look of realization came over Colin’s face, and his lips, caked in dried blood, parted to make a perfect circle. 

“Oh heavens,” he said, sounding terribly embarrassed. “I apologize that you had to see that. Honestly, I would feel worse about what happened, but he really deserved it.”

“I beg your pardon?” you said, frowning. “He really deserved what?”

Colin’s eyebrows furrowed and he sent you a questioning look. “You saw me break his nose in the gardens, right? That’s what you’re talking about? I promise I’m not usually a violent man, though I’m not particularly proving my point tonight. I apologize if I scared you off; it was not my greatest moment, but I do stand by my actions.”

“You- You broke his nose?” you said, your confusion growing as you tried to piece together what Colin was telling you.

“Well, yes. That’s why he left town for a month. His face looked something awful, and he was too embarrassed to say why. Though that won’t be a problem for me, since everyone already saw my nose get broken anyway,” he shrugged, wincing as he lightly touched his nose. “That’s what you were referring to, no?”

“Oh, dear. Oh, no,” you said, mortified as the realization dawned on you. 

“What?” he pressed. “What is it?”

“I didn’t see any of that. I heard you talking with Mr. Berbrooke in the hall. He said that you could have any girl you wanted and that you just had to look for one with a big dowry and good hips. And then you asked to continue the conversation outside. And I thought- I just thought-”

Colin’s eyes widened. “And you thought I actually wanted to continue the conversation.”

You nodded, barely able to meet his eyes because you were so embarrassed. “But I suppose you just went out to the gardens to... Oh, no. And when he came back into town, he told me the only reason you were- the only reason anyone was pursuing me was because they wanted what I wouldn’t give Lord Barlow.”

“Y/N, I would never-” Colin started, fury in his voice, but he was too mortified to continue. 

All this time, you had every right to resent him, and yet he stooped to childish antics to spite you. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t actually said those things; they were completely vile, and Colin understood that Nigel implicating him in that kind of talk would have been a glaring warning for you. 

The incessant teasing, snide remarks, and rude comments were a grave misjudgment. How could he have treated you so poorly? How could he have treated anyone so poorly, for that matter? He had presented the most unbearable side of himself, sometimes descending into cruelty, all because he felt insecure. You had a valid reason for your hatred, and his behavior was nothing but a misguided attempt to mask his own insecurities.

What a complete mess. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, resigned. 

You shook your head quickly. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I-I misunderstood and let that guide my actions. The fault is all mine.”

“Except it really isn’t, is it?” he said, reaching for your hand again, desperate to have contact with you again. 

But you drew your hand back, too embarrassed that you had rushed to assume the worst so quickly. How differently the season would have gone if you hadn’t spent half the time trying to get under Colin’s skin.

“Either way, I’m so sorry,” you said, mortified as you saw just how much blood was on his face. 

Colin had been willing to put himself in harm’s way to protect you and your honor. And you had spent months thinking he was one of the men who had no respect for you. You shook your head in disbelief, chiding yourself for your headstrong ways. 

“I’m sorry, too. You had a real reason to dislike me, and I was just being childish,” Colin said, his eyes dropping to your mouth as you anxiously bit your lip. 

If he wasn’t caked in dried blood, he might have tried to kiss you right now. He knew it would probably hurt like the devil, given that his nose was most likely broken, but he would have been willing to endure that just to feel your lips on his. But he couldn’t do it. Colin could still taste the bitter metallic taste in his mouth, and he knew he was in no state to be kissing anyone.

You nodded at Colin, fixing a stray strand of hair that had fallen out of place. “Can we be friends now, then?” you asked, half-smiling. “And not just as a favor to Eloise.”   

Instantly, Colin’s heart dropped. He scolded himself for thinking you could ever consider him as a suitor. It was a well-known fact that you were looking for a titled gentleman with a large fortune. And, as a third son, he had neither of those things. 

“Yes, friends,” he smiled wide, not wanting to fracture the fragile peace he had been waiting for since the moment he met you. 

Friends was alright. Colin could do friends. He’d take anything at this point. 

But as you turned away from him to see Anthony rushing over to scold his brother for starting a fight in his home and nearly giving Kate a heart attack, Colin felt his smile falter. 

Oh heavens, he really did love you.

—

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I no longer have a taglist for this fic, but turn on post notifications for @bosbas-library to stay updated when I post!

[adowbaldwin]

@butternuggets-blog @roseszirnheld @lilacjinn

💕 Tagged by the lovely @plaidbooks 💕

Rules: Make a poll with 5 of your all time favourite characters and then tag five people to do the same. See which character is everyone's favourite.

Tagging: @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @adowbaldwin @thatdamnokie @bullet-prooflove and anyone else who wants to do this 😍

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Precious Truths: Part 6

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you’ve been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month’s time.

A/N: I will not be taking tags for this series!

Series Masterlist

Benedict follows you and Lord Montclair with a frown on his face. He seems to love to torture himself when he agreed to accompany Daphne as she chaperones your promenade with the marquess.

His eyes glance down to your arm hooked around the other man's and his brows furrow. Daphne looks up at her brother with a smirk, "Something the matter, brother?"

Benedict suddenly looks away clearing his throat, "No, no. Just, um, thinking about a piece I need to work on."

Daphne hums unconvinced, looking back at you and Lord Montclair, "They do make a handsome couple, do they not?"

"I suppose," Benedict replies as he casts his eyes down, paying more attention to the path rather than you and the marquess.

"Are you upset with me?" Daphne asks, pulling her arm away from her brother's and stopping to look at him.

Benedict looks at her with confusion, "Should I be?"

She purses her lips, "Well, I was the one who introduced the marquess to Y/N and considering your feelings-"

"Please, Daphne, I already endure this from Anthony and Kate. I do not wish to hear more of it from you," he takes a quick glance your way as the distance grows wider between you and he, "I may love her, but I cannot give her what she desires. He can," he nods to Lord Montclair.

Daphne sighs, hooking her arm around her brother's once more, "Regardless, I cannot imagine this being easy for you."

The second eldest Bridgerton sighs, "'Tis not. Hopefully, with time, it will be."

_____________________________

You hide your laughter behind your fan as you walk the path with Lord Montclair. He relays a memory he had of when he was a boy. How he tried to capture a frog and in his attempts, it jumped on his face, causing him to fall into a lake.

"That reminds me of when I was a child. I was probably two and ten years old. Be-I mean Mister Bridgerton and myself decided to sneak away onto a row boat. We had seen a fish into the lake and leaned over the edge too much. We both fell in. Our mamas were so upset with us, but we had a good laugh," you state with a giggle.

Lord Montclair chuckles, "So you have known the Bridgertons for a while?"

You nod, "Almost my entire life. They are like my second family."

"And you are the closest with the second eldest, Benedict?" the marquess asks with intrigue as he guides you to a bench for some rest.

You nod, following him to sit, "Yes. He is my dearest of friends."

Lord Montclair clears his throat, leaning closer to you, "I do not want to seem too forward, Miss L/N, but I think I have made my interest quite clear. Is it safe for me to assume that there are no romantic feelings between you and Mr. Bridgerton considering," he gestures between you and him.

You cast your eyes towards Benedict, who is now entertaining two women in conversation while Daphne speaks with their mama. You feel a twinge of jealousy as the women laugh with Benedict. No. You shouldn't feel this way. He is not yours. He never will be.

You turn back to Lord Montclair and give him a small smile, "I can assure you, my Lord, there is nothing between Mister Bridgerton and myself except for friendship."

Happy with your response, Lord Montclair changes the subject and shares another story of his youth. You nod, smile, and laugh at the appropriate times, occasionally glancing back at Benedict. Every once in a while, your eyes will meet and then look away. Your heart strings tug a little more with each wavering gaze.

It seems you like to torture yourself since you cannot help but keep your eyes away from Benedict entertaining women that wasn't you.

_______________

After your promenade and lunch with Lord Montclair and the Bridgertons, you arrive home to see your father waiting for you.

His eyes were glossy and his body slightly swaying, signifying that he was already drunk once more.

"I heard a marquess is courting you," he practically mumbles out.

"Yes, papa. I am certain he will propose before the end of the month," you respond plainly, no emotion and no love for the man who you are now unfortunate to call your father.

He hums, "And does he know of your...hobbies?"

"He only knows I enjoy reading poetry, not writing it."

"Good. A man does not want a woman who is too well-read."

You bite your tongue, not wanting to suffer from a potential strike to your face like previously, "Of course, papa." You dryly reply and head to your room.

You proceed to isolate yourself for the rest of the day. Although Lord Montclair is exactly the man many women would kill to have court them, you still cannot find yourself to fall for him completely. You don't think you ever could. You've lived a majority of your life loving Benedict Bridgerton, you aren't sure how else to live. Even if Benedict could never love you back, you will still continue to hold him dear in the depths of your heart for you and only you to know.

You didn't lie to your father that you are sure Lord Montclair will propose soon. He had spoke of marriage, children, just your potential future in general. Both of your desires and goals line up perfectly with one another and you are certain he sees it to.

Now only to mentally prepare yourself for the inevitable.

________________

Benedict's heart drops to his stomach when he hears the news from Daphne: Lord Montclair plans to propose to you soon.

Obviously, he knew it was bound to happen. Of course he would propose to you. You, perfect, beautiful, intelligent, cunning, funny, wonderful you.

It was inevitable and it was becoming even more real that Benedict would lose you forever.

It was then that Benedict decided to drown himself in his art. Go to parties, brothels, bars, whatever he can as much as possible to forget the pain in his heart.

If only he wasn't so stubborn and truly listen to his heart and his family. He could be with you and give you everything you want and deserve.

But alas, he was just too blind and hard headed to see it.

Lady Whistledown, however, made it well known to the Ton of how she as well as a majority of Mayfair, expected him and you to marry.

__________________

Two weeks. It took two weeks of courting until Lord Montclair asked your father's permission to marry you. It was an easy "yes" from him, obviously. With the status of being the marquess and willing to pay well over your dowery, well, how can your father refuse?

Even though you were expecting it, you still felt hesitant. Your aunt joined you in the sitting room, watching as Lord Montclair, James, as you learned his name was, knelt down and presented his mother's beautiful ring.

"Mon cher, you have made me so incredibly happy these past few weeks. I think we can have an amazing future together. Will you do the honor of marrying me?"

You know you should say yes. But your mind immediately goes to Benedict. Your best friend, your first love, the man you saw yourself marrying and growing old with. But he didn't feel the same. If he did, he would've courted and proposed to you by now.

It was officially time to let go of your silly fantasies and face reality.

"Yes, of course," you reply breathlessly and James slips the ring onto your finger.

Aunt Eliza lets out a breath of relief, "I am so incredibly happy for you two! I plan to hold a ball in your honor at the end of the week, so be prepared for the fan fair that will be headed your way."

James takes your hand and kisses it, "I shall go. I must begin contacting my family so they can be here for the wedding."

"Of course, my Lord."

James smiles at you sweetly, "You may call me James now, mon cher."

You return a sweet smile back, "Of course, James. Then you may call me Y/N."

"I will see you later, future Marchioness Montclair," he gives you a wink and heads out.

You look down at the ring, the diamond sparkling in the sun. Your aunt rushes to your side and kisses your temple, "You did it, dear. You did it. You will be free soon enough."

You gulp and nod at your aunt, "Yes. I will be free."

____________________

Dearest Gentle Reader,

It seems that wedding bells are to be heard soon with now the engagement of Miss Y/N L/N and the Most Honorable Marquess, Lord James Montclair. The marquess had turned many heads since his arrival with Duchess Bridgerton. Many ladies of the Ton had hoped for a courtship from him. However, it was quite the surprise that our very own Miss L/N, one who has previously rejected the idea of marriage, set her sights on the marquess and lured him with her charm.

As I am sure many of you are disappointed by the engagement, I am certain no one is as disappointed as the second eldest Bridgerton son, Benedict Bridgerton. For we all knew those two were always at each other's side. This author thinks that perhaps the second eldest never proposed to Miss L/N because he knew he could never provide for her as a second son.

Nevertheless, I do look forward to see how Miss L/N will take to the role of marchioness. Will she crack under pressure or will it be smooth sailing? This author waits in anticipation.

Benedict crumples up Lady Whistledown's newest edition, tossing it across the room. His family's eyes are all on him.

His heart rate quickens, he feels a sweat coming on. The walls are closing in and he can't breathe. He doesn't like how his family looks at him with pity. They all know now. They know how he feels for you. There is a chance know how he feels for you now. A part of him hopes that you don't believe what Whistledown has to say. Not everything she says is always factual. Nevertheless, it makes the Ton talk.

"Excuse me," he abruptly stands from his place and Anthony stands with him, "Brother-"

"Please, don't. I need a moment alone," Benedict quickly says as he rushes out of the room.

[yandere-paramour]

More masc crown princess Atalanta???

Crown Princess Atalanta Montclair

Master swordsman. Started her sword training at age 5 and took to it well.

Also a very good chess player. Started playing in young childhood, as is expected of a noble child, and picked it up quickly.

The Kingdom is a meritocracy, and those with superior strength, intelligence, cleverness, or skill are able to easily rise above their station.

This is how Atalanta found her faithful lady-in-waiting, Noelle

Noelle was a commoner born in the slums, but through her own cleverness, has risen to the palace

She assists Atalanta by accompanying her, helping with paperwork, and advising.

She also brings up a lot of tea.

Atalanta spends most of her time doing paperwork in her office or journeying throughout the kingdom to inspect her lands

She is no figurehead

The Queen, the true matriarch of the kingdom, has ruled for over 30 years. She's tired of this and ready to turn over the crown to her only heir.

She just wants to retire to the countryside estate with the gentle King.

In this kingdom, the crown has the majority of power. The Montclairs keep the nobles in check, although no one is ever truly satisfied...

Atalanta has been extensively trained to rule since she was a toddler, and she is ready to take over her rightful place as Queen.

All she needs to do is marry.

There's always noble girls throwing themselves at her, but she's not interested to the point of her mother wondering if she may be barren.

At least, until she saw you.

A simple merchant's daughter, helping your mother as she delivers cloth to the head maid. You take some time in the garden and end up running into the Crown Princess having tea

Frightened, you turn to run, but it's too late. She calls you forth, forcing you to have an extremely awkward tea time with her.

She is fascinated by you, your beauty, your innocence. She is physically leaning across the table, straining to get closer to you.

Once it is finally over, the Crown Princess sends her lady-in-waiting to escort you back to your mother, saying "We can't have a lovely maiden like you unattended"

You're just glad to escape the palace, even with the intense blonde woman watching your every move.

The next morning, there is a letter of intent to court at your doorstep, along with a new dress in your exact measurements.

To your, and your parents, shock, the Crown Princess has invited you to the palace for tea to court you with the idea of marriage.

Oh, what have you gotten yourself into, Darling.

[thislovintime]

Photo 2 by Kelly Hill.

“[Shoe Suede Blues] help[ed] construct a house in Vernon, N.J., for Habitat for Humanity, on Tuesday and yesterday.” - The Montclair Times, July 13, 2000 “‘We’ve all got to stick together or we’re all going to come unglued.’ [Peter] noted a drive for only one’s own fortune is at the expense of others. ‘Without community, the individual is dead.’” - The Life, May 3, 1996 “Now, the business of wresting power away from those who make a specialty of wielding it will be a long and protracted struggle, with a lot of setbacks along the way. The outlines of the new style of governance are only dimly perceivable, and won’t become clear for a long time to come. In the meantime, our job is to practice the principles of fairness and service to the extent possible. One thing is clear: there is a much higher joy in service than there is in acquisition of wealth. (Remember that it isn’t money that’s the root of all evil, it’s the love of money.) Hanging together in brother - and sisterhood is so happy-making you want to sing right out loud. Yeah, I feel the same about those ideas as I did then…in case you couldn’t tell. heheheh, Peter” - Ask Peter Tork

[royaltysimblr]

The Wedding of Charles, Prince of the Isle & Infanta Maria Christina of Selvadorada

read about their wedding below!

The wedding of the Prince of the Isle, heir to the Windenburg Throne, was destined to be one of the largest royal events of the century. The arrival of the beautiful Infanta attracted a crowd of thousands at the San Myshuno docks. The Infanta was escorted by the Prince of the Isle and her family including the King and Queen of Selvadorada. The Earl and Countess of Blythe, Charles' uncle, and aunt, hosted a banquet at Ely House that night in honor of the Selvadoradian Royal Family.

The next day, the Selvadorian Royal Family was escorted in a royal procession to San Myshuno Palace by the Prince of the Isle. The Infanta met Queen Mary II for the first time at the Palace and was instantly charmed by her kindness. While at the San Myshuno Palace, the bride and groom were given wedding gifts by the Lord Mayor of San Myshuno and other senior government officials. Later that night, the Queen hosted a banquet at the Palace. Following the banquet, the guests went into the gardens where they watched fireworks being displayed. The fireworks were green and gold, and red and white, which represented the flags of Selvadorada and Windenburg.

On August 8th, 1863, Charles and Maria Christina were wed at the St.Bartholomew Cathedral. The bride was attended by seven bridesmaids, all being members of her husband's family, including Princess Francesca of Tartosa, Princess Maria Anna of Tartosa, Princess Helene of Brindleton, Princess Feodora of Brindleton, Lady Henriette Penrose, Lady Georgiana Penrose, and Lady Beatrice Statford. The public Peteran wedding ceremony was performed by the Archbishop of San Myshuno, while a private Jacoban ceremony was held at the San Myshuno Palace. The ceremony at the Cathedral was a grand affair, with over 700 guests in attendance. The wedding was mostly attended by courtiers and members of the bride and groom's family, with little foreign royalty invited.

The Queen hosted a large wedding breakfast at San Myshuno Palace followed by a ball held in the evening. Selvadoradian flags decorated the streets of San Myshuno and Windenburg, and free bread was distributed to the masses in celebration. Following the wedding, banquets and balls were held every night for a week straight to honor the royal couple. In particular, the Duke and Duchess of Montclair hosted a Georgian-themed costume ball which the entire court attended. Infanta Maria Christina dressed up as her husband's ancestor, Leilani, Princess of the Isle. Unfortunately, the costume would prove to be a good fit as Leilani and Maria Christina would both die in childbirth before ever becoming queen.

After a week of festivities, the couple left San Myshuno and spent their honeymoon at Witham Castle. The couple remained at the castle for two weeks before returning to San Myshuno where they would set up residence at Honey House.