#timeless Scroogeverse

[quill-pen]

It’s just dawned on me that he first time Bess might realize her soul-sister is smitten with a gent is because Connie talks in her sleep.

So one day, Bess is in the cottage kitchen while Connie is conked out on the couch, exhausted after a long shift at the coffee house. Bess goes to put a blanket over her, and finds Connie smiling to herself and … giggling in her sleep. Then she sighs and goes, “Oh, Mr. Scrooge~”

Well, it’s definitely … that type of dream. Her hands grip the pillow and she’s definitely pleased, haha. At this point, he’s just a tall, handsome, kind gentleman from the coffee house who seems to stop in often to see her.

As the relationship continues, it changes from “Mr. Scrooge” to “Ebenezer”, and “Adonis.” Then, finally, “my Adonis.”

Once Con and Adonis are serious, Bess gives him a teasing little pointer: “Just a note … she talks in her sleep.” 😏

He isn’t sure why that’s relevant until he wakes up to the sound of her giggling, moaning, and writhing softly beside him as she sleepily recites his name. And SUDDENLY Bess’ little statement makes sense.

Okay, but, no, this is actually so cute and funny!😂 Bess snores; Connie sleep-talks.

I can just imagine after that first time when Connie wakes up from her nap, she finds Bess in the kitchen making tea and some snacks. Bess smiles nonchalantly at first, all, "Have a good nap?"

Connie beams back. "Oh, very good!"

Bess smile turns a little cheeky as she butters some bread. "Mmm, good, good. You, uh, you have any dreams?"

Connie blushes a bit. "Yes. I usually seem to. Never really remember them much, though." That's a little bit of a fib.

Bess sucks her teeth. "Darn. From the way you were giggling and moaning, I woulda thought Mr. Scrooge would make for one of the more memorable dreams."

Connie snaps around to look at Bess in alarm and maybe try to refute such a claim, only to find Bess giving her a shit-eating grin and wagging a finger at her. "Naughty, naughty," she teases. "You can't lie your way out of a wet dream experience when you're a sleep-talker!"

Connie might end up opting to take most of her naps in her room after that. At least there's more privacy.😅

But that doesn't mean Bess misses out on witnessing that sleep-talking transition. Bess keeps a quiet tally of the ones she hears and gently teases Connie at each change as the relationship goes on. "So, you're calling him our nickname for him in bed now, are you? I'll bet he puffs up about that." It's almost like a metric system from the relationship, and Bess loves to record it and witness her soul-sister fall deeper and deeper in true love.

And of course Bess tells him about the sleep-talking but leaves out the warning of what it's usually about. For all Adonis knows, he's going to regularly hear Connie mumbling mumbo-jumbo at 1 in the morning or having a rousing but completely flummoxing discussion with alien rodents in the wee hours. Or maybe she'll start asking him questions about worms; he's heard that's a thing women will ask about for whatever reason.

But then he hears his name and the moans and, suddenly, Bess' little smirk makes complete sense.

[quill-pen]

@rom-e-o

Bess: *texts this to Gil*😈

Gil: *instantly blocks*

Connie: 😐Well, that... seems extreme.

Bess: 😌He'll unblock me in a few hours to rant and rave--don't worry.

Super cool ocean fact: there is at least 6 fish in the ocean

[quill-pen]

NSFW mentioned ahead:

@rom-e-o Have I never mentioned how Wolf likes to sometimes troll Bea by going down on Bess when they're having their weekly call? Especially if it's shaping up to be a rather rough one for Bess.

[quill-pen]

The same way that Connie gets advice from Bess on the big wedding day about her building anxiety (from remembering what happened last time) mirroring how Adonis seeks help from Wolf.

He could ask Harry, Bob, Tom and Jake, and he has. They’re just all very DIFFERENT from him. He wants the opinion of another gent that knows him best … his brother.

“I feel like I’m forgetting something. Am I forgetting something? Do you think Connie is okay? I heard Bess was with her … oh gods, did I force her to move too fast? S-Should I go to her, do you think? Am I just an old fool for wanting this to work? You have permission to poke and prod me for this forever, but … I need someone to help me calm down. ACTUALLY calm down. If I accepted every shot or cigar I’ve been offered this evening, I’d be on the floor in a pile dizzy and huffing like some freshman.”

Wolf wouldn't be able to help himself from smirking a little bit at his brother. It's been a long time since he's seen his twin this worked up and worried. At least, without the presence and actions of Christmas spirits being behind it all. He just takes a chair and sits calmly in front of the door to keep Adonis from bolting out. It's not the fact Adonis will run away, but the fact, in this state, he'll bolt to Connie and make a fool of himself being in nothing but his drawers. (The creases in his pant legs were not acceptable, according to Magda, so she's fixing them last minute.)

"I received specific instructions from the ladies you're not to see Connie until the first look/she comes down the aisle (you pick what you want them to do, Romey). So, you try leaving this room before then, and I'll knock you flat on your bloody arse just like I used to when we were children. You're not putting me in the doghouse with Bess."

"I'm not being funny, Charlie."

"Neither am. Look, Sammy, Connie is fine. She has Bess and the girls taking care of her. In fact, I'm willing to wager she's in a far better state than you at the moment. Are you sure the pink hearts are the skivvies you want to go with?"

"Charlie! I'm asking you for help, and you decide commentary on my undergarments is the best possible solution!"

"Connie got them for you, didn't she?"

Adonis makes an explosive noise that's part incredulous laugh and part frustrated huff. He throws out his wide wingspan in defeat. "Yes! Yes, as a matter of fact, she did! Are you happy?! Is that what you wanted to know?!"

He turns away to cross the small room and flop onto a lounge on the other side. Covering his face with both hands he massages his brow. "Bloody brothers! You ask them to help get your thoughts in order and they just wind you up to boil and spin!"

Wolf rolls his eyes at the dramatics, but a good-natured smile curls his lips. "All right, all right, Sammy, cool down. I'm sorry. What do you need me to do? Go through the checklist again?"

His twin's desperate but miffed voice is a bit muffled behind his thick palms: "Yes, that would be quite helpful , thank you!"

"Fine. Do you have the ring?"

One of Adonis' hands goes to his breast pocket. "Yes."

"Good. What about your vows? I'm sure you've memorized them by now, but do you have them just in case?"

Adonis sits up and reaches inside his suit jacket to finger inside the hidden pocket. He finds the note cards. "Yes."

"Good. You have your tie. Your jacket. Cufflinks. You have your watch with Connie's portrait in the lid?"

"At the suite, wrapped up. I've decided to present it to her tonight as a wedding gift."

Wolf smiles a bit softly at the endearing sentimentality. "She'll love that," he remarks sincerely.

Adonis gives him a hopeful look. "Do you really think so?"

"I know so."

Adonis smiles a little.

"All right," Wolf huffs. "The ring, the watch, tie, jacket, cufflinks, waistcoat. Soon as Magda finishes your trousers, I think you're all set, Brother. So what are you so worried about?"

His twin's expression turns irked again: Weddings certainly seemed to make men just as emotionally volatile as women. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe it has something to do with the fact I'm wedding the most amazing and gorgeous woman in the world who, for reasons beyond human comprehension, has chosen to love and marry me above anyone else and I'd rather not flub this chance up like I have before and hurt her more than she already has been?" He's a bit red-faced at the end of his diatribe, panting and puffing so the buttons on his waistcoat slightly strain.

Wolf just blinks placidly back. "Sammy. You overthink things."

"Oh, that's jolly rich coming from you, Mr. Should-I-or-shouldn't-I-tell-Bess-fancy-her?-Nevermind!-Better-to-just-pine-like-a-lovesick-puppy."

Wolf's mouth twists in annoyance but he just breathes deeply. "I'll let that go, in lieu of the high-stress events of the day," he states.

"Also because you can't deny it," Adonis mutters.

A slight flush colors Wolf's face at that, but he chooses to ignore once again. "Sammy, tell me: Do you not want to marry Constance?"

"No, of course I want to marry her! She's the best thing that's ever happened to me; the sunlight of my life! I-I didn't realize it was possible to love someone as deeply and fully as I love Connie. She's my everything."

"But...?"

"... But... do I deserve her, Charlie? With my history? I neglected and abandoned Isabel and lost her. And, while I've tried my hardest to change from what I was... who's to say I won't do that again? I didn't realize it was happening last time until it was far too late. Bloody hell, I don't think I recognized it until that Christmas Eve! How do I know I won't miss the slip ups again?"

Adonis buries his face in his hands as he shakes his head. "I can't lose Constance, Charlie. Losing Isabel due to my own foolishness ruined me almost past hope. Losing Constance to it would end me, I fear."

With a sigh, Wolf rubs his chin in thought for a moment before rising from his chair and trodding the small distance to the lounge. He sits down beside his brother and clasps his shoulder in a warm, brotherly grip. "Sammy, do you want to know the difference between your relationship to Isabel and your relationship to Connie?"

"What?"

"You just told me Connie is your everything. As much as you loved her, you never ever once said that about Isabel."

Adonis slowly lifts his head and looks at his brother in silent realization.

Wolf smiles encouragingly at him.

Suddenly there is a knock on the door and it opens to reveal Magda. Beaming, she holds up a long pair of freshly ironed trousers and sings: "They're perfect now!"

[quill-pen]

So, angsty ask:

Do you think the Twins ever have nightmares about the wifeys leaving them? Like, Bess/Connie find out the extent of their pasts and (although the irl versions have accepted and love them) they still dream that they sporadically change their minds and decided to leave?

“You’re no better than the man I fled from.”

Or, they dream that they returned to their former selves, and their wives fall out of love with them?

Horrible visions of their wife turning away in disgust/tears haunt them. A life beyond salvation? So be it. But living a life knowing he drove the love of his life away AGAIN? They couldn’t do it.

Then they awaken, gasping for air.

In bed, wifey is right next to them, probably still naked and smiling from a night of passionate love-making, and he tried to quiet his breaths/sobs to not disturb her, and relief sinks in.

Absolutely they do. In every timeline, Bess' Eb has such nightmares, especially near the beginning of their romantic relationship. But the fear behind the dreams also sometimes vary.

Lots of times, he dreams that she either rejects him because of his past or that he returns to his old ways and drives her away. More than once Bess has woken up to find him after a nightmare, and she just embraces him, showering him with kisses, caresses, and gentle words. She reminds him she knows what he was like before he changed; he has been honest with her about it (often to his own detriment); she's heard other people's accounts; she's witnessed how lots of people still fear and despise him for his history.

"I love and admire you all the more because of it. It's proof how much you've changed and how strong your dedication to being a better man truly is. Your past doesn't disgust me--it saddens me. Because I can't help but think how lonely and hurt you must have felt for so long, and how much you must have despised yourself to let yourself fall into that way. I know you, and I know you won't go back to that. And you know that I won't let you either. I have you."

Sometimes, especially if he's been talking with people who have made comments and he's been witness to Bess receiving attention from men closer to her age at a party, his nightmares will be about her leaving him for someone younger, handsomer, spryer. He does trust Bess completely, of course. But with his past history with most women, it's no surprise these are very deep-seated insecurities that, occasionally, get triggered. He's working on squashing them, with Bess' help.

It certainly does help when he watches Bess turn down interested parties, excusing herself from conversations with some of the most eligible young bachelors in the blueblood stud book to immediately beeline towards him when she spots him across a room. She'll greet him with a socially acceptably passionate kiss, like she knows he was in need of just a bit of reassurance that she's his and his alone. She probably does; she can read him so well. Then, at home, she'll further reassure him in their bedroom how he's the only man she wants--the only man she needs. "You are the only man in my world. Every other may as well be blood or boys."

In the DNDverse, specifically, he has terrible nightmares of losing control of his wolf and killing Bess, or worse, turning her into what he is. Bess has gotten rid of most of her silver, but Eb has insisted she keep the pure silver pendant from her priestesshood and wear it during the full moons when he is at his wildest, strongest, and most vicious and uncontrolled. Silver hurts him in general, but it's even more repulsive to him when wolfed out. During a regular transformation he can withstand being around her if she were to wear it (she refuses to in those circumstances). Under a full moon, the silver of her pendant is so pure in quality, she might as well be protected by a magical barrier, his wolf stays so far away.

Bess isn't the biggest fan of this; she hates the idea of causing her beloved discomfort and not being able to be close to him, but it certainly has seemed to help assuage Eb's fears and made him feel more comfortable (ironically). And that's what matters. So out comes the full moon and on goes the pendant for one lonely, heartbreaking night. It's painful, but it's worth it for all the other happy ones together.

[quill-pen]

@rom-e-o I hope you enjoy.

Constance DoGoode had grown up around finery. Except for the dark voids that were the first couple years of her existence, the American heiress' memories were filled with beautiful, wonderful, fine things going back as far as she could remember. Fine clothes, top of the line toys, expensive shoes, the best makeup, ritzy rooms in glamorous houses and townhouses, and even glorious tubs.

Randomly enough and perfectly fitting to her quirky character, Constance loved tubs; she loved a good bath. Her entire life, they had been a warm, soothing sanctuary for her on many occasions. Even in her worst, lowest moment, the moment that could very well have been her last, when she teetered at the brink between life and death, the bath had been her sanctuary.

Now, beyond that lowest moment but potentially at the brink of another, in a strange land not her own, a bath still provided her with solace.

The tub that offered it to her now was not one of the ocean-sized, gold trimmed, porcelain beauties she had previously been used to; it was much smaller and slimmer, impossible to completely stretch out in without bending somewhere. It doubled as a shower, boasted a wrap-around shower curtain, and resided in a small, quaint cottage restroom where it was tucked tight against the tiled wall to make as much room as possible for everything else. But it was deep, and it was safe, and it was hers. Well, technically: When everything was broken down, she really only rented a third of it, and her housemates rented the other two-thirds. But somehow, that made this tub even more special and sanctuary-like.

As she settled against the back of the tub and slipped down the porcelain until her chin touched the steaming water, her legs bending at the knees to fit, Connie let her head roll in the direction of the bathroom door. Just beyond that closed door and down the little hall, were some of the most amazing young women. Women who would stand in the way to protect her from anything or anyone who tried to harm her and come to her aid at any call for help. Despite her humble surroundings, they were what made this tub the finest she'd ever had, and this bath the safest she'd ever taken since before marrying her monstrous husband. Even with the looming threat of her husband discovering that she was in London and coming for her, those women--her women--were what made her feel safe enough to lose herself for a few long moments in hot water and bath salts while she tried to find the courage and strength to face the prospect of meeting Orin again. The prospect of having to fight for her freedom.

Because she couldn't go back--that was one thing Constance was sure of: She couldn't go back.

And she wouldn't.

A light knock on the door startled the woman from her thoughts. She jumped a bit out of the water, sloshing some over the side and onto the tile and bathmat. Her eyes snapped wide open, her lips shiny and chin dripping from being submerged. An alarmed gasp unintentionally escaped her. "Wh-Who is it?!" she cried out, sounding more frightened than she intended to. Damn! Just the idea of Orin coming to London was already setting her nerves on edge. It was a familiar and tiring feeling that Connie had no desire to labor under again.

"It's just me, Con," a soothing voice called from beyond the door. Bess--one of her housemates, her very first friend in eons never mind in London, her soul-sister. "I thought you could use a drink so I had Gal make you a gin and tonic. Is it okay if I come in? I can cover my eyes if you want."

That last comment prodded a giggle out of the redhead. "No, it's fine," she called back. "We're all girls here."

The handle on the door moved and a moment later Bess was stepping into the bathroom. The dark-haired beauty smirked as she expertly nudged the door shut again with a bare foot: Her hands were both full of drinks. "I was thinking more of covering my eyes for me, so I don't get jealous of your totally smokin' hot bod," she remarked only half teasingly as she winked at the older Yankee.

Connie snorted and rolled her ocean blue eyes. "Oh, hush. Flattery will get you nowhere."

Bess snickered as she stepped towards the tub. "Considering the current shit-uation," she murmured, reaching out with the hand that held a small shot glass, "I thought you might want a straight shot first."

Connie's hand practically reached out on its own, lifting from the water to grab the little shot glass. On pure instinct, she brought it to her lips, tipped both it and her head back, and downed the clear liquid in a quick gulp. Her brows only furrowed minimally at the bitter, burning taste that just graced her tongue and slipped down her throat. It was only one little shot, but the woman swore she could feel a slight simmer of heat tingle through her veins as the gin hit her stomach. "You're a darling," she breathed as she handed the little glass back to Bess. "Don't suppose I could have another?" She gave her friend a slightly sheepish smile.

Bess returned it with a chiding smile of her own as she shook her head. "Not while you're in the tub," she said in a rather motherly way. "When you're out of the water and not at risk of drowning if you fall asleep, you can get as drunk as a skunk. For now, here." She handed over the larger glass. "I don't think you're gonna get drunk sipping on one gin and tonic."

Again, Connie reached up and took the glass, resigned to the drink. Yes, she wanted to get drunk and slip away from worry and stress for a while, but Bess was right; for right now, this was best. "Thank you," she sighed. "You were right--I definitely needed this."

Bess nodded in agreement. Then she sat down on the edge of the bath, watching carefully as Connie nursed her cocktail. "We're all here with you, ya know," she stated after a moment of silence, drawing the attention of those bright blue eyes back to her. "Hundred percent. Whatever happens, we're behind you all the way, Connie."

Connie felt a slight sting in her eyes. Her bottom lip trembled slightly, and she pulled it between her teeth to keep it still as the fearful tension in her chest tightened. "I'm so scared, Bess," she whispered, her voice sounding pitifully meek in her own ears. "I'm terrified at the thought of seeing him again. Hearing his voice. I hate to think about what he'll do if he finds me."

"He's not gonna get a chance to do anything," Bess declared adamantly. Without thinking, she reached out and placed her hand atop Connie's as it rested on the edge of the tub. She squeezed the damp appendage reassuringly. "If he finds you, we'll be right there with you; he'll have to go through us if he wants to touch you. And you know how hard Gal and I both hit." She winked at her best friend. "Orin won't stand a chance."

Connie managed to smile as that statement conjured up an image of her friends giving her abuser a taste of his own medicine. They could absolutely do it, too: Gal was built like an Amazon warrior and was known for literally throwing unruly bar flies out of her and Jacob's pub; Bess' main exercise of choice was kickboxing, and Connie had seen that mean left hook of hers in action a couple times now. Still, even if she knew her friends could and would defend her, she felt guilty.

"It's just not fair to you, though," the ginger lamented with a sad shake of her head. The messy bun she'd thrown her coppery hair into to keep it out of the water wobbled slightly. "It's my mess--I'm the one who should be handling it. I shouldn't be relying on you or the boys or anyone else to battle this for me. I'm being weak and cowardly."

The corners of Bess' mouth curled up into a gentle smile, understanding shining in her midnight blue eyes. "Ya know, I said the very same thing not too long ago about dealing with my mother," she recounted, a slight tease in her tone. "And there was this absolutely brilliant woman-"she grinned cheekily as Connie rolled her eyes at that description of herself, "-that told me someday I would. Someday I would have the strength to fight that battle on my own, handle my mother, and finally clean up that mess on my own. But until then, I got a whole team ready and willing to do the things I'm not capable of yet. And I'm not being weak and cowardly by stepping back and letting them fight for me, I'm just... giving myself the time I need until I'm recovered enough to step back into the ring and wallop the snot outta the bitch who hurt me."

Bess picked up Connie's hand and sandwiched it tightly between her own. Her gaze drifted away from her friend's eyes to the jagged scar marring the inside of the redhead's wrist, slightly discolored against the warm, sun-kissed tan of the rest of her arm and body. "Orin's just like my mother, Connie," Bess stated, looking up to meet those brilliant and now slightly watery eyes again. "He's just a bitch. A sniveling, miserable, worthless little bitch. He only has the power you've given him, and someday you're going to rip it all back and make him realize just how pathetic and small and powerless he really is and how incredible and strong and powerful you really are. Because you're a survivor--a badass--a warrior." Bess chuckled wryly and shook her head. "And it's gonna be a damn beautiful thing when you do--I can't wait. to see it. But until that time comes-" the black-haired girl patted the manicured hand in her grip as she brought it to hold close to her chest, "-we all got you. Now and always. Promise."

There was no stopping the tears that trickled down Connie's freckled cheeks now. She'd never felt so touched, so safe, so genuinely loved. Her entire life, she'd been alone, in a manner of speaking. In the orphanage--what little she could remember of it--she'd had no friends, and even the caretakers hadn't afforded her much time. Growing up, after her adoption, there had only been her parents for company, and while she'd loved them dearly and had felt completely ensconced in warm, unconditional love, she'd still felt rather alone in the world somehow, without anyone on her level to relate to. And then the decades with Orin had been filled with nothing but dreadful, painful loneliness and isolation. To think it had taken running away to London to finally find the companionship she hadn't known she'd been searching for all along; the sisterhood she'd been craving for as long as she could remember.

It was like a ray of heaven's light shining down to eradicate the darkness trying to swallow her up. And it was the finest thing she'd ever had.

Sniffling, Connie tried to blink her tears away. "Thank you, Bess," she croaked, squeezing the hands holding hers. "Thank you so, so much." She offered up a trembling, tearful smile.

Bess returned it, her own eyes looking a tad shiny. "All for one," she murmured.

Connie finished the saying: "And one for all."

Heaven (Modern!AU) (Constance/Orin) (Constance/Ebenezer)

Trigger warning for graphic depictions of self-harm and attempted su*c*de.

Connie experiences darkness before the dawn.

Something about the entire evening felt just a tad … off.

Orin Spiegler couldn’t exactly pinpoint what exactly was amiss in the couple’s stately 5th Avenue townhouse, but a sense of dread was tugging at him. He felt … anxious, which was not an emotion he felt often. Stock trading on Wall Street and rubbing elbows with some of the richest financial syndicates in the country and world took someone with steel-will and gumption. By self- admission, he had both in spades.

Orin knew there were many select adjectives one might use to describe him, but ‘uncertain’ was not one of them. When he felt or knew something, he believed it with his whole chest and soul.

Something in the air on that very evening was making his uneasy.

Orin sat in an expansive, high ceiling sitting room in the townhouse, the windows showing the top of Central Park’s green canopy. The clouds churned dark gray outside, pregnant with a chilling winter downpour that threatened to turn to snow if the temperature dwindled much more.

It wasn’t the cold or impending weather making him nervous, nor was it the distance scratching of the delicate sapphire needle on the phonograph nearby, playing a crackling blend of Chopin’s most well-known pieces. No. He was used to all that. He was used to the dry newspaper in his hands, ink smearing on his fingertips even if he’d given the damn thing the whole day to dry. He was used to the expensive firewood filling the parlor with the scent of aftershave, and just a little bit of nauseous smoke.

He was a man of routine, and nothing this evening stood out compared to anything else that would have also been commonplace any other night.

Yet, his fingers felt compelled to tap the wooden flourish of his armchair. An itch manifested on his freshly shaven cheek. The silk of his dressing gown suddenly felt as stifling as wool.

A persistent, nagging notion scratched at the base of his skull: Get up, get up, get up.

Something was wrong. But what?

Fuck, he needed a drink.

“Con!” he yelled, voice reverberating through the cavernous room, “Grab me a drink, will you?”

Silence.

A groan of irritation left him as he threw the paper aside and rose to his feet. “Con! Hey!”

He peered down the hall that housed a few of the townhome’s bedrooms. It was dark and still as nighttime pond. Uneasiness returned as he noted a persistent haze filling the hall. Steam from the bathroom, he realized.

Ah, of course, she was in the bath.

Well, she could fetch his drink nude, he thought. That could be fun.

Marching to the bathroom, his fingers curled around the knob like the legs of a dying spider. He gave the door a rattle. As expected, it was locked, the knob frozen in place. “Con. I know you’re in there.”

There was no noise from the other side. Not a sound of exasperation or fear, not the sound of sloshing water, not the sound of a squeaky tap or a groaning pipe. It was as if the room was empty on the other side of the locked door, but that wasn’t possible.

That persistent feeling of dread grew in tandem with the stretch of silence he experienced on the other side of the door. While one hand kept trying the knob, the hardware rattling like tumbling bones with furious flick of the wrist. While his right hand attacked the knob, his left hand rose seemingly of its own accord to tap his fingers against the lacquered wood. One finger to another, back and forth, three or four times.

The entire time, crickets. By now, she would have stirred. She should have stirred.

“Con?” he asked again, his voice growing with the same trepidation that had lured him up from the chair.

Silence.

Had she fallen asleep in the bath and slipped into the water?

“Constance. Constance!”

Panic rose in his throat and he continued to twist the knob over and over, attempting to move the lock’s tumblers by threat and force. The fingers that had previously siphoned out his anxiety through fleeting taps now curled into a fist and banged on the wood.

“I’m going to break down the door if you don’t answer me.”

Less than ten seconds passed before he acted upon the promise. Squaring his shoulders and bracing himself, he reared back against the hall wall before charging forward. The door jostled in place, and after a few strikes, began to buckle around the metal hardware. While the new lock remained in place, the historic door (a heavily restored original from the townhome’s initial construction around two hundred years ago) caved with relative ease.

Adrenaline numbed the pain long enough for him to force the wood forward past the screws and hinges.

On the next ram, it buckled. With the lock still clicked into place, the rest of the door flew back and smacked the bathroom wall.

Orin stumbled inside, and before he saw anything else, he saw red. A pool of blood, thick and black as oil, dripped from the edge of the otherwise pristine, white clawfoot tub. Perched atop the rim was a slit wrist, a jagged flap of skin hanging free from the cut veins.

One of his facial razors was limply cradled between the unresponsive manicured nails.

“Fuck!”

He pushed himself back from the doorway, stumbling away from the stained floor, as if he could push himself out of the dream before him.

“Fuck, fuck, no!” he screamed, voice shattering with each syllable. The world seemed to still in that moment, where each breath felt like an eternity to complete. “H-holy shit…C-Constance….”

Remembering himself, he peeled himself up from the floor and stepped through the metallic-smelling liquid to read the room.

As he looked inside, he saw his fear realized. While one slit wrist was perched atop the edge of the tub, her other slit wrist and head were submerged in the pink-tinted water, only a few bubbles leaving her nostrils and mouth. Her coppery hair wreathed her lifeless face like a hero, eyes already fluttered shut.

Acting instinct, he lunged to her side. Orin reached in and hauled Constance from the tub, all but throwing her onto the floor. She wasn’t nude, but rather dressed in a thin slip dress that reached her mid-thighs, likely to preserve some dignity for whoever found her.

She was already cold and limp in his arms from also slipping unconscious, therefore powerless to stop him bundling her wrists in towels and wrapping her in a robe. He worked in silence, waiting until all her wounds were covered before he began to apply beats of heavy pressure to her chest.

He thumped his hands against her sternum, then frantically tipped her head back and breathed into her mouth.

“Come on, come on…” he muttered, mindless of the blood and bath water drenching him. “No. Fuck. No, we’re not doing this.”

He commanded her to wake up over and over again, both shouting the order and muttering it against her blueish lips between breaths. Some of those whispers were prayers, not to Constance, but to any higher power or ghosts that could hear him.

When she finally did sputter up some water, she didn’t even take a moment to breathe. All Constance did was gasp and let out a choppy groan. Her agony was personified in a cry for death rather than a frantic gasp for life.

Ignoring her pleas to let her die, he scooped her up in his arms and rushed to his phone in the sitting room.

While waiting for an ambulance to arrive, he held her like a child cradling their favorite stuffed toy, rocking her softly all the while.

While he murmured sweet nothing, she let out creaking, suffocated groans for physical and mental release.

Release from life. Release from him.

The clawfoot tub in Ebenezer Scrooge’s London flat was large enough for her to practically lay flat in.

Slipping out of her robe (which was actually his robs - she needed to buy one to keep at his place), she tentatively stepped into the steaming tub of water one leg at a time.

Baths always worked wonders for her aches and pains, especially residual injuries from her broken legs.

This one was no exception.

Even when she went to sit down, the size of the bath continued to surprise her. Sitting fully on her bum, the water almost reached her chin. Almost slipping into the deepness, she caught herself with a giggle. She rolled her shoulder back and reclined against the back of the tub with a sigh.

Oh, it was heaven. She felt almost weightless in the tub, since it was large enough for her to move her arms and even wiggle her legs back and forth.

She could even dunk her head under the water (which she did, in fact!) and surfaced with another puff of laughter as she smoothed her curled bangs from her face.

The bath was a place of private solace; a haven to be truly defenseless and vulnerable. It was always one of the most reliable places she could retreat to and never be bothered. Whether it was after a chilly day of childhood snowball fights, a hard day at the office, or a harrowing modelling photoshoot that left her feet sore and ego bruised, she would go to the bath and feel peace.

Everything about this bathroom relaxed her. From the buttery paint color on the walls to the fluffy, freshly washed towels, and even down to the rainy London skyline outside the window, it felt perfect.

Slowly, she risked a glance down and at her wrist.

She turned her wrist over and glimpsed the deep, jagged scar adorning her right hand. While scars lingered on both hands, her wrist list had been badly marred thanks to the added clumsiness of her trying to use her non-dominant hand. It almost made her chuckle, the black comedy of it all.

Inhaling the steam off the bath, she took a deep breath to reground herself.

“You’re okay,” she reminded herself with a nod. “You’re okay.”

Her boyfriend was right outside.

This time, she had nothing, and nobody, to be scared of.

Ebenezer reclined in bed, wearing pajamas and slippers. Torso propped against two layers of pillows and his legs crossed at the ankles, a thick book was spread over his lap. A set of tortoiseshell reading glasses were perched atop his owlish nose. The frames were a set that Constance had helped him picked out at an optometrist appointment. It was so domestic that it made his heart tender. She'd been so serious about helping him choose the perfect set and offering her opinions.

Then, he'd wanted to pull her into a thankful kiss.

Now, he was eagerly awaiting for her to join him in bed.

Every once in a while, he glanced at the door to the ensuite bathroom. Whenever he heard a splash or giggle from inside, he almost smiled before returning to his book.

Gods, what had he done to wind up so lucky?

When the door finally opened and Constance emerged, her cheeks red and hair damp, his grin turned to a smirk. Wearing one of his robes with the hem of a sapphire-blue night slip peeking from underneath, she looked like a goddess emerging from her private springs.

“Hello,” she said with a shy.

“Hello, indeed,” he crooned, putting his book aside instantly. He opened an arm to her, and she crawled into his embrace. She sidled up to him, fitting perfectly in the nook between his chest and arm. “Enjoy the bath?”

She nodded and hummed. “Very much. It was so relaxing.”

He dropped a kiss upon her copper head. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“What are you reading?”

“Crime and Punishment,” he said. “I wanted to read it as a boy, but never got to it. I’ve been wanting to get back into reading more. I used to do it so often as a child when I could. Even when money was tight, libraries were always free.”

She hummed.

“Have you read it?”

“I’ve read Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace and Anna Karenina, but never Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment,” she said. “That’s the novel about the student, right? Raskolnikov. The one who kills his elderly neighbor with an axe?”

“…Yes,” he said, then laughed nervously. “I suppose it is a bit of a morbid choice.”

“Well, most literature is morbid in some way,” Constance giggled, readjusting herself so she laid alongside him. “Are you far along?”

“Not terribly – 10 pages or so. Barely a dent of a dent for a book of this size, I’d dare say.”

“…Can we both read it?”

“What?” he asked, glancing down at her. “Like, read it together? In turns?”

She smiled and nodded. “Yes. Is…that okay? Just a chapter or so a night before bed every night. Maybe … I could read a few times, and you could read other times?”

Touched by her sincere interest, he would have agreed even if he hadn’t liked the idea. Oh, he was overjoyed by the thought. Any opportunity to bond with her filled his proverbial cup, so to speak.

“Well, then,” he started, holding the book open with one hand while his other hugged her close. “Let’s start over, shall we?”

She reached out to grab the other side of the novel, helping to hold it upright for them.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

Inhaling again, she nodded and let her eyes flutter shut.

“It feels like heaven.”

@quill-pen I was inspired by our convo the other day. Just a bit.

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@rom-e-o in Timeless, the Wolves' first date at Wolf's apartment?

A homemade, Italian meal that Wolf worked on perfecting for at least two weeks beforehand. The practice was worth it--it tastes very delicious.

Bess insisting on helping with the dishes which ultimately leads to a splash fight.

Chasing each other around the flat because of the fight, tackling onto and wrestling on the couch that turns into passionate necking.

The first time Bess' top and bra come off in the relationship. Heavy petting, fingering, handies, and humping subsequently follow.

Semi-naked slow-dancing to amazing music, particularly this song:

Lots of kisses and affection and enough wine consumption that Bess gets weepy and Wolf doesn't feel comfortable enough driving or putting her in a cab/uber by herself. So, both parties end up falling asleep, snuggled up together on the couch.

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So, fun fact about Connie's wedding vows to Orin ... he edited them beforehand. Saw them, changed things, and handed them back. "Keep it short. dear. For once, let's let the ceremony outshine meaningless poetry. Our union will speak for itself." Sooo, getting married to Adonis, she has to write vows again. Well, she doesn't HAVE to, but she wants to. But this time, she's the one writing them ... and saying them. It's not like she's an actress on stage. She has to pour her heart out genuinely. That makes her VERY jittery. So, she asks Bess, Addie and Gal if she can practice her vows to them. "May I please read them to you all? I-If I don't practice, I'm worried I'll freeze. And please, tell me if they're bad. Or odd. Or both."

This is so sweet, and you know the girls would be more than willing to help out. Connie wants to double-check the wording to make sure it sounds right/makes sense? They are her sounding board. She wants help trying to put her feelings into words? They are her brainstorming team. When she gets it finished and wants to practice? They are her captive audience. Guarantee you they get very into it, getting into "wedding garb" and setting up a pseudo-altar in the cottage to simulate the experience. They are going all out to help her in any way she needs.

Watch Gal dress up in a suit and take Adonis' position for the practice vow readings, too. Trying to imitate his voice and all. lol It's all in good, lighthearted fun! <3

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The day Connie moves out of the cottage and loads the last box into Adonis’ car, she is full-on teary-eyed as she hugs all the girls so tight.

Yes, she’ll see them literally later that night for a dinner. Yes, she’s going to come over that Sunday for brunch.

But she can’t go to their doors for late-night chats anymore. They can’t cry over old movies while eating ice cream at 2 a.m. anymore ( well, not without some planning). She can’t see them when she wakes up.

They all get hugs, but Bess, her soul-sister, gets an embrace that makes the tears finally fall.

Those years in the cottage changed her. Helped her grow. Helped her quit addictions. Helped her realize she wants to live.

“Thank you for everything. For the support, for your kindness and patience, and for the love.”

It’s just a location change, but it’s an emotional one.

Adonis driving away with her like, “…Darling, if you think it’s not the right time, I promise I-“

“No, I-it is. We could move in together five years from now, and I’d react the same. I love them, and I love you. It’s just a change. But a good one.”

By the way, before leaving, Adonis gives every 1843D girl a key. Bess probably knows the lock code to his flat, but she gets a key so they can all come over and see each other whenever they desire.

A symbol that he’ll never keep the girls apart behind any doors, especially not his own.

Oh, Connie.🥹 She's not moving away, just to a different section of town, but it's still a big change and an end of an era. It is worth emotion and tears. Tears that are both sad for the end, but happy because it's been a good run and this is a good change. Of course, the girls are sad their "big sister" won't be right there anymore and that every night isn't going to be a girls' night with the lot of them, but they are so thrilled for her getting to take this step with a man who is completely worthy of her and loves her so much. Of course, the girls assure her she is always welcome to move back if need be or just to come and stay whenever she wants.

Addie is definitely the biggest crier. She's sobbing and sniffling as they help Connie pack up, and she wails when giving Connie her goodbye hugs and kisses. Gal is always the more stoic one, but even she's shedding some tears and sniffing a bit.

Bess? She's not wailing, but the waterworks are on full-bore. But so is her genuine, happy smile. "I'm so happy for you," she sniffs. "You're gonna have an amazing life." What Connie doesn't know, is Bess had a sit-down with Adonis before he asked Connie to move in just to be sure of what his intentions were. ("I trust you, but this is my soul-sister--my other half. I just want to be extra clear that you intend to have a future with Connie. We both know she's still a little apprehensive about marrying again, but if it turns out that is what she wants, I want to be sure you're in line with her, and not just stringing her along to shack up with for a good time until you want something else.") Of course, Adonis gave her assurances and that he was already thinking marriage.

The keys are a huge deal for the girls and a sure sign of trust. If there were any reservations left for any of them about Adonis, they evaporate. Of course, they will respect the boundaries Connie and Adonis set for their place, but to know they have free reign to come and visit their best friend whenever, that they're welcome any time, it means everything.

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@rom-e-o I'm gonna say in Timeless, when Connie finally gets her divorce from Orin, a party is thrown and this is the dress she wears.

SHERBON Bridal Collection if you want to support this blog consider donating to: ko-fi.com/fashionrunways

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Inspired by recent pics, imagine:

The Pack girls get some money together during the early days in the cottage and do a boudoir photoshoot. To have fun, lift each other’s spirits, hype each other up (“oh my gosh, how is it LEGAL for someone to look that beautiful?!”) and hype each other up! Kind of like their lingerie parties, but with souvenirs, haha!

Then, when they’re all with their hubbies, they do it again. The pictures are saucier and more private this time, and ladies like Nancy, Ethel and Hela and others jump in to join. Wouldn’t shock me if TeTe did the same.

Then each lucky man gets a fancy book of photos from their wifey from the day, as a lovely present. 💕

This gives Valentine’s vibes, but honestly, they could probably do it anytime with how down bad these couples are for each other. 😏

Yes, I LOVE this idea. So much fun for these ladies and a bonding experience to empower each other!

Also, imagining the hubbies getting to see the original photos at some time in the relationship.😏 And then getting the second photos later on.🥵 It's like a before and after sort of thing. Before hubby: sexy, but more of a cute, flirty sexy. After hubby: the sensual, risque, scandalous sexiness of a woman who's found the person who brings that out in her and makes her feel safe and confident.

These men have no idea how they landed so well on their feet.

[quill-pen]

Going along with the Twins having their new sister-in -laws, imagine them being the ones that help each of them prepare for their first wedding dance? 🥹

Adonis trains with Bess, and Wolf trains with Connie. It helps that Bess and Connie are nearly identical heights, and Adonis and Wolf are literally twins.

I imagine it’s helpful for both the brides and grooms.

Oooh, I love this idea. They're worried to mess up or step all over wifey's toes, so they ask their sister to help them "train".😂 Which is so funny because, in my og timeline, it's Wolf that helps teach Bess to waltz in order to avoid her making a fool of herself at her family's parties. So I can tell you, he might be rusty, but he already does know how to dance! And in Timeless they dance together in their flat all the time. But, I guess, slow-dancing in front of a crowd might be a little nerve-wracking and throw the boys off their games.😅

Now, imagine that carry that on to the weddings? The boys can't have a mother-son dance. But they can have a brother-sister dance.🥹

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A Red Sunrise; A Timeless Scroogeverse Tale

Summary: Bess and Wolf awake to a rather unwelcome surprise.

Warnings: Periods and period blood, mention of past abuse, brief mention of witnessing past violence

Many women would have considered Bess fortunate. For one thing, there was the whole being-exclusively-involved-with-a-filthy-rich-man-who-adored-you-thing. For another, she had many close friends that were more like family who would gladly do and give anything for her, and she would gladly do the same in return. But arguably the one thing that most women would probably consider Bess most fortunate for was the fact of her womanly cycle. When you only ever, at most, had three periods in a year and oftentimes didn't even have that many, it was hardly a surprise that most other women would consider that the most fortunate thing in your life.

Bess could see their point and understand their reasoning, truly, but she didn't at all agree. Hardly having a period more than three times a year brought its own annoyances and hardships. Not to mention that it was a side effect of her past trauma and, thus, a constant reminder of both said trauma and the fact that it had stolen her chance at future motherhood from her. Those facts, and the thoughts and feelings they generated, only ever made the typical mood swings that came with periods worse. And of course there was the overall fact that Bess' periods, in an apparent attempt to make up for the fact that they were few and far between, always came at random and very inopportune times, lasted about two weeks, and made said weeks an absolute living nightmare in terms of the typical symptoms.

The fact Bess could never prepare for the onslaughts was probably the worst part. Sometimes her body warned her in advance with sudden changes in mood and appetite, cramping, headaches, the typical telltale signs. Other times, like this morning, she simply awoke to a violent murder scene in her pajama pants that had unfortunately soaked through to the sheets. And even more unfortunately, they weren't even her sheets on her bed, as she and Wolf had reached the milestone of staying over at each other's places for a weekend.

Yet, somehow, bleeding through in a bed that wasn't hers that wasn't the worst. As Bess had been snuggled into Wolf and using his chest as a pillow, she'd had a leg hiked up over his his to slot next to the man more comfortably. Thus a rather large bloodstain had spread over the man's hip and thigh as well

Bess quickly backed away from the sleeping Englishman, tears immediately welling up in her eyes and spilled over her cheeks. Completely unable to rein in her emotions and stop them for the moment, the woman began sobbing. She helplessly threw herself into a pillow and wailed. She felt humiliated, horrified, and yet, at the same time, completely, rage-inducingly unsurprised. Of course, her body would choose to betray her with no warning on her first weekend staying over at her boyfriend's! Why wouldn't it?! When had it ever granted her any favors?

Roused by both her movements and cries, Wolf stirred and stretched out a hand, groping around for the woman he'd fallen asleep snuggled up with. "Hmm-Bess?" His hand made contact with a rather wet and warm patch as it passed over the sheets. The man paused, probing at the strange area, the cogs in his sleep-addled mind slowly beginning to turn and move. That wasn't a typical thing to feel in one's bed. Neither was hearing your sweetheart crying a typical sound to wake to.

Wolf opened his eyes, his bleary gaze first landing on Bess curled up and crying all the way on the other side of his large mattress. He shot up onto his elbow, instantly alarmed. "Brightness, what-" he stopped as he suddenly saw the dark, reddish stain stretched down the insides of her pantlegs. Then he noticed the large, bloody blotches trailing across the mattress towards him, and finally the stain on his own pants.

Memories of finding old Marley stabbed, brutalized, and covered in blood slammed into the forefront of Wolf's mind. Instinct kicked in: The billionaire scrambled out of bed in a panic. "Bloody fuck!" Still not fully awake and processing things as he normally would, Wolf ripped off his pajama bottoms and quickly inspected his crotch and thigh. Where was he bleeding?! How was he bleeding?! Why was he bleeding so badly for Bess to become bathed in a pool of his blood?! Or had something happened to Bess that she was hurt too?! It was a few half-asleep moments before the man's brain began to really wake up and realize what was actually going on.

As the truth dawned, relief washed over the philanthropist. It was quickly replaced with sympathy, as he turned his attention toward Bess, still curled up and hiding in the pillows. Grabbing his dressing gown from the foot of the bed, Wolf quickly covered himself and went to his girlfriend. "Oh, my moonlight."

"I'm sorry!" Bess bawled into her pillow as his hand gently gripped her shoulder. "I'm so sorry for making a mess! I'm sorry, Wolf! I didn't mean to! I didn't mean to--I'm sorry!"

The man gently scooped the woman up and cradled her against him; the idea of getting bloody again wasn't even a thought in his mind. "Shh, Brightness," he hushed her. "I know. It was an accident--I know. Shhhh." He stroked her hair as he rocked her.

Bess clung to his, balling his robe into white-knuckled fists. "I-I didn't know! I swear I didn't know my period was-I didn't feel any warnings! I didn't mean to bleed all over your bed, Ebenezar--I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"Shhh-of course you didn't, Bess--I know that. You just had a little accident, that's all. These things happen; it's nothing to be upset over."

The pair sat curled together for a long while before Bess finally started to quiet and calm down. When the tears and sniffles had stopped altogether, she slowly pulled away from Wolf's chest and took better stock of her bloody wake. The woman hung her head and moaned with shame. "I'm so, so, so sorry, Moonsong," she lamented again.

Wolf hugged her more tightly to his chest and kissed her crown. "It wasn't something you could help," he cooed soothingly. "It will wash out, and even if it doesn't, everything is easily replaceable."

Bess buried her red-hot face in her hands. "I just... I can't believe I bled all over you and your bed during my first stayover! We went to bed perfectly fine and now it looks like fricking Jaws came up in here and had a feeding frenzy! I'm so embarrassed!"

"You have no reason to feel ashamed, Bess. There is no shame whatsoever in this; it's simply nature."

"Ill-timed nature."

Wolf chuckled. "That's true, I'll admit. Reminds me of how I passed gas during our very first necking session."

Bess snorted into her hands. "I tried to warn you off Josie's cheesy green beans," she reminded him.

"Greasy, cheesy green beans," Wolf muttered with some disgust.

Bess smirked up at him. "Well, duh. That's why I tried to warn you."

Wolf laughed and pressed a lingering kiss to his sweetheart's cheek.

Bess basked in the affection as she giggled at the rather smelly memory. "So..." she sighed after a moment, looking back at the mess, "... this... doesn't bother you? It doesn't... gross you out?"

Wolf cast his eyes over the scene again. "I'm not thrilled about it, I admit," he answered. "Not anymore than you are. I don't think blood in the sheets is what any person wants to wake up to. But it's nothing to make a stink over. As I said, accidents happen." He gave the woman an empathetic look. "Did it bother Oliver?" he inquired softly.

Bess smiled sadly. He knew her so well. "Yeah," she croaked with a sniff. "He'd get so disgusted at just the mention of menstrual stuff he'd gag. Forget asking him to run to the store to grab some pads in an emergency. Luckily, by the time we were together, my cycle was like it is now, so we didn't deal with it all that often. Mama was worse about it. My first cycle happened a lot like this. As if I wasn't already freaking out enough that I was bleeding between my legs, Mama made it worse by throwing a huge fit and switching me. George was away for work at the time so, he couldn't defend me."

Wolf was sure his heart had shattered into pieces at those words. Reaching up, with both hands, he cupped Bess' face between them and stroked the remaining tears from her freckled cheeks with soft thumbs. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Moonlight," he rasped. "That must have been so terrible for you."

Bess shrugged. "Sure wasn't fun, anyway."

Wolf gave her a little smile before leaning in to gently kiss the woman. "Why don't you hop in a long shower?" he quietly suggested when they pulled apart. "I'll get the bed cleaned up and order in some breakfast."

Bess blinked in shock. He was going to clean up after her? And then order breakfast in rather than having her make it? "Are... are you sure?" she asked, voice quiet in her dumbfoundedness.

The man simply smiled. "Unless you'd rather I make breakfast? I should warn you, I can't guarantee the quality of the food, if that's the case, but it will at the very least be edible."

"No, no, that's not what I meant--I just... I can make breakfast, Wolf. I can take care of the bed too--it is my mess after all."

Wolf laughed and shook his head. "Nonsense! The truth of the matter is, my beautiful girl, this weekend has just turned into an exclusive pampering session for you, whether you like it or not. Anything you want and need is yours. I am at your beck and call. The world is your oyster!" He swooped back in to give the Yankee another kiss, this one more passionate than the last. And when he pulled back again, he pecked another to her nose. "Now, I'll hear no more dissent. Into the shower with you, Ms. Sullivan, before you dot another 'i'. Leave your pajamas outside the door and I'll take care of everything."

Before the woman had a chance to protest again, the Englishman stood, took her by the hands, and pulled her out of bed as well. Wrapping an arm around her, Wolf led Bess in the direction of the bathroom. "You should find what you need in the bottom cupboard closest to the toilet," he informed her.

Bess looked up at him in surprise. "What I need?" she echoed him. "You mean-"

"Feminine hygiene products, yes," Wolf answered with a smile. "I'm fairly certain I have one of everything in there."

"But... what are you doing with all that stuff?"

"What if I told you I collect such things?"

"Wolf, honestly."

"I have a niece-in-law that likes to visit, Brightness. You and the girls have swung by often enough since we came into each other's lives, and I also have a regular maid. It made sense to have things by the way in case of an emergency. Sammy has the same setup at his place."

Bess was quiet as she stared at the tall, steely-haired gentleman in wonder. Then she stepped into him, went up on tiptoe, and pressed her mouth against his once again, looping her arms around his neck to coax him closer. She melted into him when he coiled his arms around her waist. "You are a spectacular, wonderful, amazing man, Ebenezar Charles Scrooge," she whispered against his lips as she gazed up into his hooded eyes. "I love you."

The man smiled warmly, his already gentle eyes softening to a heartbreaking degree as he let his head fall so his brow bumped into hers. "I love you too, Elizabeth Felicity Sullivan," he whispered back. Pulling her even closer in his arms, he kissed the beautiful, coal-haired American again.

@rom-e-o Been a little while since I did a short, sweet thing for them.🤗

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@rom-e-o

Before the Wolves become a thing but chemistry is definitely there, the Pack helping Bess make a music video with her cover of this for... 🤷🏻‍♀️reasons? And all the guys being respective love interests for the girls in the video with Wolf, of course, being the main love interest.

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@rom-e-o

Wolf being so amped up on emotions and so nervous and excited to marry Bess, that when they go to sign the license, he spells his brother's name instead of his.🤣

Adonis loves to use this for teasing and you can bet it ended up as a last minute addition to his best man speech. "Today, I thought I was gaining a lovely and beloved sister, but something even better has happened. Today, thanks to my brother, I've gained another lovely and beloved wife. But I am a generous man so, Brother, seeing as I already have a bride that I am beyond happy with and I don't believe I have what it takes to wrangle two Yankee women, I bequeath this dark-haired beauty to your care. Treat her well."

[quill-pen]

SUPER random ask - but we've established the ladies shop for lingerie. Imagine the ladies are out, maybe on an international trip, and decide to pop in a store and pick up a few things. Do we picture the boys being helpful? Example: I'm imagining Bess asking Wolf, "Honey, what do you think about this?" and as he turns to provide her with requested feedback, he spots Connie and her choices, and SWIVELS AWAY SO FAST. THAT'S HIS SISTER-IN-LAW. Yes, he's a mature man, BUT STILL. The principle! B: Um, you're not looking. W: I know. B: No good? W: I didn't see, honestly. I saw Connie with a strappy ... something and looked away so fast that my neck cracked.

Ooooh, yeah.😅 They'd be helpful with their own wives (if they can manage to keep their hands off them, anyway), but for their sisters-in-law? They're too loyal, honorable, and protective to let themselves look. Even in a clinical or technical manner.🤣

I think the girls would find it endearing though. Their men don't want to look at anyone but them?🥹 For Bess, that's never been her experience.