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rubysunnday · 2 years

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aching soul

requested by @musicallisto : hi lottie, congrats on 4k - that's INCREDIBLE! You deserve each and every one of those followers, your work is astounding. could I request an anthony bridgerton one-shot with prompt 1 + young and beautiful by lana del rey? I've been missing a little bit of romance lately. thank you sm if you do it! 💜

requested by anon: can i request an anthony bridgerton x reader fic where he thought he absolutely despises her without any clear reasons but it was actually him denying his feelings for the reader?

a/n: she's a long one, folks

summary: There is a difference between Viscount Bridgerton and Anthony Bridgerton. One is a Rake. The other is a man, broken by his father's death, who has never really been able to be just Anthony. Y/N knows the feeling all too well

"We pick in alphabetical order!"

"Which means I'm always going to be last!" Eloise whined, stamping her foot. "Why don't we do youngest to oldest?"

"Because then I'll be last!"

"Enough!" Daphne exclaimed, silencing Anthony. "Since we cannot agree, why don't we let our guest choose first? Miss Elliot?"

Y/N looked at Daphne expectantly. "I am slightly afraid that no matter what I choose I will be starting a war."

"No one will dare complain since you are our most esteemed guest," Daphne said, giving Eloise a pointed gaze. "Please, go ahead."

When the Bridgerton's had, collectively, mentioned a game of pall mall - whatever that was - Y/N was dubious. But at the evil glint in the eye of Lord Bridgerton at his younger brother, Y/N simply had to join in.

Anything to antagonise the viscount.

Y/N hardly knew the man but in the short time she had known him, he'd driven her mad. Perhaps some of Y/N's hatred towards the viscount was because of the assumptions she'd made of the man over the years.

A Capital R rake was never to be trusted. Besides, as she reached her fourth year out in society, Y/N was running out of time to find a husband. She didn't have time to run around flirting and playing with men who weren't ready to commit.

Or men who weren't looking for a love match. Lord Bridgerton.

Y/N stepped forward, looking at the mallets. They were all worn and looked tired after years of use and, presumably, abuse. Her eyes went directly to the black mallet - the only dark colour in the otherwise pastel set. She glanced at Lord Bridgerton and noticed how his gaze was fixed on the mallet.

So, she walked up and pulled it out of the box.

The shocked gasps from the rest of the family and the glare he gave her told Y/N she had, in fact, chosen well.

"Well, would you look at that, brother," Benedict said, grinning at Anthony.

Anthony's jaw was tense. "Shut up."

"Can the rest of us choose now?" Eloise asked, looking around.

No one moved. Then, Eloise darted forward and snatched up the yellow mallet, ignoring Colin's complaints. Benedict snatched the dark blue one whilst Daphne grabbed the purple one. Colin reluctantly took the orange one and, after glaring at it, Anthony took the pink one.

"To the field of combat!" Daphne exclaimed, holding her mallet up high as if it was a sword.

Y/N laughed and followed after them, keen to see the Bridgerton's in action. "I dare say, Your Grace," Y/N said, catching up with Daphne, "I am not entirely sure how to play this game."

"Well, firstly, please call me Daphne. Secondly, if you want my advice," Daphne said, walking alongside Y/N, down to the start of the course, "I'd focus on Eloise. She is so focused on trying to beat her brothers that she will forget we're here. Benedict's aim isn't the best, but he is good at hitting far. Colin is a cheeky player - he will sacrifice his own go to hit someone else's ball."

"And Lord Bridgerton?" Y/N asked, glancing over at Anthony.

"He is a fierce player who does not like to lose. This makes him the perfect target - all it takes is one whack of your ball against his and he will be off his game the rest of the match. He likes revenge."

"I gathered that," Y/N murmured, remembering how much Anthony wanted to murder Colin at the ball a few weeks back.

"I myself will not reveal any secrets," Daphne continued. "But I will say this - Bridgerton pall mall is more about sabotaging your opponent than it is getting the ball through the wickets."

Y/N nodded, smiling. "Understood."

The game started fairly calmly. It wasn't until they got to the sixth wicket did the chaos start. Colin aimed his ball at Eloise's and whacked it, knocking Eloise's ball wide and almost down the hill. Eloise gaped at her brother and nearly swung her mallet at him. Anthony stepped in, a hand on his sister's arm, as she was mid-swing.

Y/N didn't try anything too cheeky until two wickets later. Anthony's ball rolled into her path and Y/N seized her opportunity. She glanced over at Anthony, smirking slightly, as she readied her shot.

Anthony seemed to realise and gasped, turning to her. "Miss Elliot, don't you dare -"

Y/N whacked her ball at Anthony's, sending it flying down the hill and to the lake's edge. She laughed, swinging her mallet around in delight as Colin and Benedict chuckled evilly at their brother's misfortune.

"Excellent shot, Miss Elliot!" Benedict said, beaming. He patted Anthony on the back. "Well, I guess we shall see you later, brother. Daff, your turn."

Daphne strolled over to her ball. She crouched down, eyeing the ground and the wickets. As she stood up, Y/N caught the glint in her eye and knew, instantly, what she was about to do.

"No, Daphne, don't -"

Daphne smacked her ball into Y/N's, knocking it down the hill in the same direction Anthony's ball had gone moments before.

Anthony looked as if he wanted to hit his sister. Or strangle her, one of the two.

"Right, well then, we'll see you two in a bit then," Daphne said, turning around, holding her mallet in both hands, smiling happily.

Anthony clenched his jaw tightly. He gestured for Y/N to move first, barely making eye contact with her. Y/N held her head high and marched past him, heading down the hill.

She could see the lake at the bottom of the hill and had a sudden, sinking feeling that she was about to get wet.

"My brother and sister do love to antagonise me," Anthony muttered, walking down the hill at a brisk pace. "We lost the red ball to this lake a few years back."

"Who's fault was that?" Y/N asked, glancing at him.

Anthony turned and smirked slightly. "Mine."

They'd both stopped on the edge of the lake, searching for any sign of the pink and black balls.

"Oh, dash it," Anthony said, staring straight ahead.

"What?"

He leant closer to Y/N and pointed to the shallows of the lake where two balls sat, stuck in the wet sand.

"We could just move them," Y/N suggested. "No one will know."

"But I will," Anthony replied, raising his eyebrows.

Y/N scoffed, watching as Anthony walked down onto the bank of the lake, his boots instantly being covered in sand. After a moment, Y/N followed after him, skidding slightly on the wet sand. She reached out for the closest thing to her - which just happened to be Anthony's arm.

"Apologies, my Lord," Y/N said, quickly letting go of his arm.

"It's fine."

The two of them stood there and stared at the balls, debating how best to get to the balls.

"Right then," Y/N said, throwing her mallet up in the air slightly and then catching it again.

She took a step forward into the water, feeling it begin to seep through the soles of her satin shoes. Y/N tilted her mallet back and then swung forward, whacking her ball out of the lake and onto the grass bank.

Y/N smiled smugly at Anthony, gesturing for him to take his turn. Anthony stomped down to the river, his boots sinking into the sand, and stood next to her. He swung his mallet back and hit his ball, sending it onto the grass, next to the black ball.

Anthony turned to look at her and shook his head cockily - reminding Y/N slightly of a peacock.

Y/N went to take a step forward but found her feet were stuck in the sand, sinking each time she tried to move.

"I am stuck," she announced, looking at Anthony.

"Pardon?" Anthony asked, turning around to face her.

Y/N gestured to the floor. "My feet are stuck."

"Are you serious?"

"Believe me, Lord Bridgerton, if I didn't require your assistance I would not be asking for it."

Anthony sighed heavily and dropped his mallet onto the floor, marching back down onto the edge of the lake and taking Y/N's arm, standing behind her.

He pulled her as she managed to free her right foot. Y/N then went to put her right foot down on a slightly firmer piece of sand but it got tangled up in the long hem of her dress. With her left foot stuck in the sand still, Y/N flailed about, losing her balance entirely. She squeaked as she fell backwards, pulling Anthony with her.

Y/N landed on top of Anthony, flinching as the water began to seep through her clothes and onto her skin. For a moment, they both awkwardly laid there in the lake, Y/N on top of Anthony, Anthony with his arm still around Y/N's waist.

Anthony grunted in disgust, flicking his hand free of sand. He pushed Y/N upright and he sat up, looking around him. Anthony glanced at Y/N, who was struggling not to laugh, and glared.

"It is not funny!" He snapped.

"I am not laughing," Y/N said - although she clearly wanted to.

Y/N turned her head, looking at Anthony. He met her gaze and a smile instantly appeared as he giggled. Y/N found herself letting out a breathy laugh, ducking her head to avoid looking at Anthony.

"Well, at least we did not lose the balls to the lake this year," Anthony said, standing up. "Miss Elliot, I take it your feet are now free?"

Y/N chuckled. "Yes, Lord Bridgerton, they are."

Anthony held out a hand to her. Y/N reached up and gripped it, the water making it harder to grip. Anthony pulled her to her feet and Y/N quickly hopped onto the firmer sand.

A cheer errupted from somewhere up the hill and Anthony sighed wistfully.

"I bet you that Daff has won - again," Anthony muttered. He turned to Y/N. "Miss Elliot, I do apologise for our trip into the lake."

"It is fine, Lord Bridgerton," Y/N replied, holding the wet hem of her dress up as she climbed onto the grass bank.

Anthony followed her up. "I do hope this adventure has helped break the ice between us - I fear we got off on the wrong foot."

Y/N paused. "Part of that is my fault, I suspect," she admitted, bending down and picking up her ball. "I may have made some assumptions about you."

"Everyone does. Lady Whistledown does not help."

Y/N looked at him. "Are the rumours she writes not true, then?"

Anthony exhaled slowly. "No. No, some of them are true."

"Such as the one about you being a Rake with a capital R who is now conveniently looking for a wife?"

"You appear to have heard a lot of things," Anthony said, leaning on his mallet.

Y/N shrugged. "I have been out in society for four years, my Lord... I do know some things."

"Ah, so you are one of the young chits who fell for me when they made their debuts?"

"Young chits?" Y/N repeated, staring at him in disbelief. "It is hardly my fault I was forced to talk to you by my mama."

"Well, perhaps if you, along with the other young ladies in the ton, were more interesting and could hold a conversation, we would have gotten along better -"

"Do you realise how rude you sound?" Y/N snapped. "You just assume you know what I am like based on a conversation we had three years ago when I was a debutante who knew nothing better than what had been installed in her by society?"

Anthony faltered, clearly realising he'd overstepped. "Miss Elliot -"

"No, Lord Bridgerton, you have made your thoughts very clear. I thank you for your assistance - I am going to retire to my room now."

Anthony watched Y/N walk up the hill and back to the house, leaving him alone. He sighed, swearing quietly at his stupidity. Anthony bent down and picked up her mallet and ball, wishing he could go back a few minutes.

No matter how hard she tried, Y/N could not sleep the following night. There was no reason, sleep simply just wouldn't come. After rolling over for the fifth time, she flung back the covers and sat up in the bed, sighing softly.

It was raining gently outside, the sound of thunder gradually getting closer as the rain hardened. It was a hot summer night in the middle of July and the rain was a welcome thing.

Y/N grabbed her shawl and a candle and headed out of her room. She had yet to explore Aubery Hall properly. Whilst she didn't want to trespass into the Bridgerton's private rooms, she wanted to see more of the house Anthony so clearly adored.

Her exploration took her down the stairs and into a very impressive library, full of leather-bound books. She set the candle down on the table in the centre of the room, letting it illuminate the room gently.

Y/N walked over to the walls of shelves, running a hand along the spines. She'd never seen such an extensive, beautiful collection of books before. Whoever was responsible for the library had a stunning collection of Shakespeare as well as every Jane Austen novel. Y/N pulled out a copy of Emma, carefully opening it and scanning the first page.

The door to the library creaked, the light coming in from the corridor growing. Y/N's head shot up and she saw Anthony, half-hiding behind the door. He was wearing his dress shirt and trousers, the top three buttons undone. His suspenders hung down by his sides and he had no shoes on. There was a bizarre sense of vulnerability, seeing him so undressed and calm.

"My apologies, Miss Elliot," Anthony said softly, ducking his head. "I saw a light and I was checking I did not leave a candle on."

"It's only me," Y/N replied, stepping away from the ladder. "I can go -"

"No, please... stay."

Anthony hesitated, hovering in the doorway, one hand on the edge of the door. After a moment, he walked in to the library, gently walking up to Y/N.

"Do you mind?" He asked, holding out a hand for the book.

"Not at all."

Y/N handed him the book, her bare fingers brushing his for a moment. She pulled her shawl up and over her chest, the fringe edging tickling her skin as it trickled down.

"My youngest sisters insisted I buy these," Anthony said, running a hand over the cover of the book, his signet ring glinting in the candlelight. "They wanted me to continue our father's library."

"This was your father's library?" Y/N asked softly.

"It was. He always made sure to include things we all enjoyed. There are books on painting for Benedict, travel guides for Colin - embroidery for Daphne and Francesca." Anthony looked up at the room. "There is something for everyone in my family in here."

"You continued the tradition?"

"I try. It's difficult since we spend more time in London than here. Eloise and Hyacinth insisted on Jane Austen being added to the collection."

"Have you ever read them?"

Anthony chuckled. "Sadly, I do not have enough time to read anymore. I wish I did, however."

Y/N looked at him intently. "If you do not mind me asking... how did your father die?"

Anthony sighed heavily. He smiled sadly. "He was stung by a bee. I had just returned from school when I heard Eloise screaming in the gardens. It was quite something to see a man as great as my father felled by such a small creature."

"How old were you?"

"I was just eighteen. I knew nothing about being a viscount or running estates... my father died before he could teach me everything."

"How did you cope?"

"I didn't," Anthony said, chuckling softly. "You've read the stories and the rumours. It was only last year that I realised that, out of duty to my family, I need to settle down and sort things out."

"Find a wife, you mean," Y/N said.

"Yes." He sighed, closing his eyes. "It's not as simple as simply finding a wife."

"Then explain it to me," Y/N told him softly. She reached out and put a tentative hand on his.

"After my father died... my mother was barely there. She does not remember any of it, not truly. I, however, remember every single moment. I could never..." Anthony trailed off, his voice catching. "I could never be the cause of such pain. No matter how cold-hearted and cruel everyone else may find me to be."

Y/N looked at him, her eyes full of understanding. She inhaled and exhaled slowly. "Has anyone ever loved you as Anthony Bridgerton and not Viscount Bridgerton?"

"I do not believe they are two separate entities. They are one and the same."

"I don't agree." Anthony looked at her sharply. "Anthony Bridgerton is standing in front of me right now. He was in front of me this afternoon in the gardens and in the lake. Viscount Bridgerton was at the balls and the parties. Anthony is you, right now. Maybe you should try and find a way to separate the two."

Y/N give him a small smile. She held her hand out for the book and Anthony handed it back to her, his fingers lingering over hers for a moment.

"Good night, my lord," Y/N said softly.

Y/N exhaled, puffing out her cheeks. She unconsciously pushed her hair pins back into her hair as she looked around the room, watching intently.

Her time as a young woman, desperate for dancing had long gone and now she preferred to stand on the edges of the dance floor amongst the chaperones and mothers.

No one looked at her twice and it was just how she liked it. Y/N had long accepted that she wasn't going to find love from the most eligible suitors in the ton. Instead, she had turned to the older gentleman - the military men, the business owners with enough money to buy most of London.

She wasn't looking for a true love match. But rather someone she could love and could be friends with as time went on. She just wanted someone to look at her as a human being instead of potential wife material.

The people around her started muttering, all eyes turning away from the dance. Y/N followed them and stood to attention as Anthony walked over to her, his eyes set firmly on her and her alone.

"Miss Elliot," Anthony said, bowing.

"Lord Bridgerton."

"I trust you are enjoying your evening?" Anthony asked, his hands still clasped behind his back.

"I am, indeed, thank you for asking. Your mother is an incredible host."

"She prides herself on being able to host a good ball," Anthony said, moving closer to Y/N. "Forgive me if I am being impertinent but I do not believe I have seen you on the dance floor, Miss Elliot."

"Because I have not been asked for a dance, Lord Bridgerton - which is just how I like it," she added quickly.

"Would you make an exception for a viscount?" Anthony asked softly, lowering his voice so just she could hear him.

Y/N looked at him. "I would make an exception for Mr Bridgerton."

Anthony gave her a genuine smile, holding out his hand to her. "Miss Elliot, will you accept Mr Bridgerton's offer to dance?"

Y/N placed her hand into his, gripping his fingers. "I will, Mr Bridgerton."

As the other dancers began walking to the centre of the dance floor, Anthony led Y/N to the back corner of the floor. It was away from the main eyes of the ton yet still allowed them to dance together.

The strings began to play and Anthony gently guided Y/N into the dance, both of them swaying backwards and forwards. He spun her, Y/N's gloved fingers still gripping his hand, high above their heads.

Their arms lowered and Anthony put his hands on her waist as she placed hers on his arm. One step backwards and they were waltzing with everyone else, all dancing in synch.

"I want to apologise for the other day," Anthony said quietly, his lips near Y/N's ear so she could hear him over the music.

"I was out of line, Lord Bridgerton," Y/N replied, letting him release her and then turn her around.

"No, you were not. You were correct with everything you said. My own arrogance and bad experiences resulted in my prejudice. Not every young lady is uneducated and simply a pretty face."

"I think you will find that a lot of young women enjoy reading and writing," Y/N said softly. "They are just seen by society as the outcasts."

"Indeed - much like my sister, Eloise."

Y/N spun to face him, stepping backwards. "What is it?"

"I also wanted to thank you," Anthony replied. "For too long I have lived in my father's shadow. The viscount took over me and I forgot what I, myself wanted. Being able to acknowledge that they are two different things helped. So, thank you."

"You are very welcome, my lord."

"You are also the first person who has ever seen me as just Anthony. As much as I adore my family, they see only an older brother who is the head of the family. It is rare that I can just be myself. The first time we met, you threw my off my guard, wanting to see anyone else other than the viscount."

"Oh, is that why you were so rude to me?"

"Again, I apologise. I have never been good at communicating emotions. I tend to hide them until they boil over. But, you, Miss Elliot, tore down every wall I have ever built."

Y/N ducked under his arm and then turned around. "I do hope that is a good thing."

"It is. But it is also why it has taken me until now, until this very moment, in fact, to realise that I am completely and utterly in love with you.”

Y/N stopped. She stared at Anthony, her eyes wide, her heart pounding. "Pardon me?"

"I apologise if it is too sudden or if I have overstepped," Anthony said quickly, "but when I am with you, I do not have to hide behind my titles. I am simply Anthony. And that is something I did not know I wanted or needed. Not until you made it so clear to me."

The music ended, the last few notes playing out into the crowded room. Y/N belatedly remembered to curtsey to Anthony as the dancers filed off the floor.

"I need some air," Y/N said, turning on her heel.

She weaved through the crowds and walked out onto the patio, relishing the cool air on her skin.

"Miss Elliot, if I have overstepped, I apologise -"

"No, it is not that," Y/N told him, turning to face Anthony. "I just... the reason I see you as just Anthony and nothing else is because... that is all I have ever wanted. Every suitor that comes to my door, no matter how kind and caring they are, never cares to see Y/N. They just want to know if I would be a good wife and mother. No one ever makes the time to get to know me."

"If I have ever made you feel that way -"

"That is the thing, though... you haven't. Never once have I felt that you only cared about me fitting your requirements. Whilst I'm sure other women did... I did not. I felt... feel, as if I can be Y/N. I do not have to pretend to be something I am clearly not."

Anthony was looking at her with such intrigue and kindness it almost made her cry. Never, not once, had a suitor listened to her as much as he had. Never once had they even bothered to care about her as a person.

And now, there was someone who did. Someone who did care - even if they were a reformed Rake.

"Miss Elliot, I am aware that this may be too sudden but... I would very much like to get to know you better."

Y/N smiled gently. "You're not just going to propose to me here and now?"

"I could. But I want to get to know Y/N Elliot first. I want to know what makes her smile and what makes her cry."

He was inches away from her now. Anthony reached out his hand, his fingers brushing against hers. Y/N inhaled sharply at the contact, her skin quickly being covered in goosebumps.

"Well then, Lord Bridgerton," Y/N said softly, her little finger wrapping around his. "You best get on with it."

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagines #bridgerton imagines

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caitlynscat · 10 months

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I love your wenclair + Yokvina chats. I had a brain blast of yoko pranking Wednesday buy taking her type writer (while making sure it’s totally safe and not gonna get damaged. She’s not a monster ) and replacing it with a fisher price child typewriter spray painted black or not.

Omggg I’m gonna write this one. Thank you for the inspiration!

Yoko Replaces the Raven’s Typewriter

Enid: This isn’t a good idea. She might be mad.

Bianca: She could kill you.

Divina: Or worse.

Yoko: You guys are such babies. She’s all bark and no bite. She’s not REALLY homicidal.

Enid, shaking her head: You never know.

Yoko goes up to Wednesday’s desk and pulls the cloth off of her shiny typewriter. She picks it up and gently places it under the raven’s bed.

The vampire then pulls out a toy typewriter, which she spray painted the exact colors of Wednesday’s and places it on her desk. She then proceeds to cover it with the same cloth, precisely how it was.

Bianca: This is so fucking stupid, I’m leaving.

The siren leaves while the other and the werewolf stay to watch Yoko’s stupidity.

Yoko: It’s just a joke. Come on, this is so tame compared to what she does. Besides I want to see her reaction!

The three wait for a moment until the raven finally arrived back into the room.

Wednesday: Mon Coeur. Girls.

Enid, nervously: Oh uh, hi babe. We were just about to leave.

Divina: Right behind her.

Wednesday: I appreciate. It is my writing time after all.

Wednesday puts down her bag on her chair and stares at the cloth covered typewriter. She knew something was off. And she wasn’t in the mood for games.

The Raven then goes through her bag and pulls out a large wooden stake and a mallet and placed it both on the table.

Wednesday: If I pull this cloth off and it’s not my typewriter, I’m gonna kill you Tanaka.

Yoko, sweating: Oh uh wait. How do you even know it’s me? It could’ve been-

She turns around to see that both the werewolf and siren had already vanished. She turns back to see Wednesday with the stake in one hand and the mallet in the other.

Wednesday: I’ll give you a ten second head start.

Yoko: Thank you! *runs out the door*

#asks #dahjokester #wednesday #wenclair #enid sinclair #wednesday addams #incorrect wednesday #incorrect wenclair #wednesday x enid #wenclair imagine #emma myers #enid x wednesday #incorrect quotes

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gatheringbones · 5 months

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[“It can be difficult for people raised as girls to express rage when we’ve been taught from very early on that it is in our best interest to suppress our anger. It is culturally acceptable for women to be sad, not angry. In one study on gender, anger, and the workplace, the participants conferred higher status to sad female employees than to angry ones. For men the opposite was true. Men, particularly white men, are rewarded and forgiven for their anger, while women are penalized and blamed.

Ceci, the mestiza paralegal, now lives in Los Angeles with her husband, five-year-old son, and twenty-two-year-old stepdaughter. She described herself using the exact language of a woman who was taught by the culture not to value or express her anger: “I’m a people pleaser. I don’t rock the boat. I go along with everything, do what people tell me.” This is the path of being a good girl, a good woman, and eventually a good mother. Lifelong gendered learning teaches people raised to be women to push down anger and any feelings in the “sub-anger” ballpark, such as annoyance, irritation, and frustration. I imagine this emotional push-down like the carnival game whack-a-mole. Each time an uncomfortable or unpleasant anger-related feeling pops up—whack!—women automatically bang it with a big-headed mallet, sending it back beneath the surface.

Like the rage itself, this game of anger whack-a-mole is an international phenomenon for women. In Korea, there is a culture-related anger syndrome called hwa-byung. It translates literally to “illness of fire” and mostly affects working-class middle-aged housewives, who have chronically suppressed anger stemming from strict gender roles, gender-based inequality, and patriarchal family structures. In traditional Latin American folk medicine, it is believed that holding onto certain emotions can cause physical illness. In Northeast Brazil, the term engolir sapos translates to “swallowing frogs,” and is mostly used by women to refer to the suppression of anger and irritation, and the pressure to tolerate unfair treatment without complaint.

Cheryl, the Black civil rights lawyer who internalizes her mom rage, is practiced at playing whack-a-mole with her anger: “I’m good at repressing things. So, a little problem, I repress it, and it gets packed on top of all the other things that make me mad, until there’s no way to untangle it. It’s just this huge tangle of anger that I’m trying to disassociate from all the time.” In our present-day culture of busy, intensive motherhood, stuffing down unpleasant emotions can be a matter of practicality. Minutes are a precious resource, and airing every frustration is a time expense that modern mothers cannot afford. Emails must be sent, dinner needs to get into bellies, and bodies need to snuggle under covers. But the perceived time-saver of the Emotional Whack-a-Mole phase is a mirage. Every time a mom suppresses her angry feelings, as she’s been taught to do her entire life, she is pushing them onto an ever-growing pile of anger inside her. Eventually, the pile will topple.”]

minna dubin, from mom rage: the everyday crisis of modern motherhood, 2023

#minna dubin #bi literature #gender stuff #currently reading #brainspace

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solar-wing · 9 months

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⚣ YJ BatBro Incorrect Quotes: Scooby Doo ⍘

⚣ ⍘ A/N → ah memories. My first ever BatBro and Conner Kent post. Time sure does fly. Anyway, what I said still stands. There needs to be more Conner Kent x Male Reader and just male reader content in general. Batfam included :) WARNINGS: typical chaos, fluff, sibling arguments, random humor

⚣ ⍘ Summary → You join the Young Justice Team against the wishes of your father, Bruce Wayne aka Batman, who doesn't want his youngest son to join the superhero world. You've also got a mad crush on Conner Kent aka Superboy. Ever since you've joined though, you've got this weird habit of having moments in life feel like incorrect quotes. Oh well...

REBLOGS and replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 💛

Superboy: Gee, Dad. Does this mean you finally accept what I want to do with my life me as your son?

Superman: *laughs* Hah-hah-ooh Superboy.

Superman: No.

Superboy: *sad*

You: *calm murderous*

*Batman, Red Tornado, Black Canary, and the Team in the mission room with you & Kid Flash dressed up like waitressing girls*

You: Um, like this isn't exactly what I had in mind. Why are KF & I dressed up like girls when Artemis & M'Gann are girls?

Wally: Yeah *pulling on dress* my skirt's too tight.

Artemis: Because M'Gann & I refused.

*You & Wally grumbling*

You: *dialing Conner* Sphere? It's Y/N. Put Conner on.

You: *Pause* ...because you're almost impossible to understand on a phone.

*Kid Flash leading everyone through a door and shutting it*

*Demon Vampire that looks like Batman locks the door trapping everyone inside and throws away the key*

DV: FOOLS!

*runs away*

You: *mocking Kid Flash* 'Everybody! In Here!' Nice.

Kid Flash: How was I supposed to know we'd get locked in by your dad?

You: It's a cage KF! You always want to stay on the outside of a cage. And that's NOT MY DAD!

DV: *brooding*

You: I don't think...

Robin: *facepalms*

*everyone looking down an ominous tunnel*

You: I wonder where it leads?

Superboy: Only one way to find out. *drops down chute*

Superboy: All clear! Come on down!

You: Catch me Superboy! *drops down and lands on your butt*

Superboy: Did you say something Y/S/N?

You: *sigh* never mind.

*Wally receives message from Kent Nelson*

You: What does it say?

Message from Kent: HEEP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You: Heep? What the hecks that mean?

*finding Kent*

Kent: I meant to type 'Help!" I'm no good with these new fangled gadgets.

*talking about Bruce to the team*

You: Every day for two weeks now, he runs screaming down the hall and ends up sleeping in the yard. Is that normal?

Wally: For your dad? Probably.

Speedy: What's up with Superboy?

*Superboy screaming and ripping his shirt off*

You: Oh, he's just in the zone. It'll pass.

You: If not, we'll spray him with a hose.

*you and the team show up at the hospital*

You: Can we help you with anything?

Bruce: No. Go away.

M'Gann: Who's the patient?

Bruce: An employee at Wayne Tech. Go away.

Wally: What happened to him?

Bruce: it's classified...go away.

*You and Artemis watching Wally and Conner spar*

Artemis: Hey Y/N, let me ask you something. If you liked a boy...?

You: *gasps* WHO TOLD YOU?! Was it one of my brothers?? Dick! Hmm, he thinks he's so perfect. WELL, what no one knows is he has a SIXTH TOE on his...

Artemis: UH! What are you talking about?

You: I- Clearly, not what you were talking about…

BONUS:

DV: LET ME GO! I'LL DRAIN YOU ALLLL!!!

You: Dad, you're vampiring is tearing this family apart! I'm sorry but you've left me no choice. I'm going to have to stake you! *randomly pulls out a wooden stake and mallet*

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

☀️ | DC Masterlist | ☀️

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animentality · 6 months

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I played through Astarion's camp scenes after he doesn't choose to Ascend, and you know...

I try not to make too much fun of people stupider than me...

But if you think Ascended Astarion is the good ending for that character...be careful tying your shoes today. I feel like it's gonna be more of a struggle than it usually is.

It's astounding how even Astarion himself, both Ascended and not, acknowledges that he lost/would lose himself after ascending.

Non Ascended Astarion thanks you for not letting him do it because he sees how blinded Cazador was by power.

Ascended Astarion admits after you reject him that he would've used up your love and ruined you.

It doesn't matter that he thinks you're his favorite consort/pet spawn. If it could ever be love again, it certainly wouldn't be eventually.

That is objectively, not even subjectively, a morally wrong ending for your and his characters. Just going by basic morality, even, where it's generally wrong to kill 7000 sentient intelligent feeling people, who were incidentally, YOUR VICTIMS. who literally could have their own lives and grow and change, JUST LIKE YOU DID.

I don't get it.

I get LIKING the bad ending. That's fine. I don't care if you like it because you have a dark romance enslaved to a vampire kink. I don't care if you're just into darker storylines and you like the idea of your vampire daddy dom fucking you into eternity like a sex puppet. That's your prerogative.

I just don't get insisting Ascended Astarion is the "happy" ending for him.

It absolutely is not.

Where is your media literacy?

Is it in the dumpster next to the IHOP you were drooling in this morning

Christ.

Be mad if you want but it'll make no difference to me because I have basic literary comprehension skills, and the game developers themselves even said it, and also the GAME told you in two different ways why the evil ending is evil.

I don't have a mallet heavy enough to ram it through your skull, I'm sorry.

#astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 spoilers

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thebigbadbatswife · 5 months

Text

Internal Conflict (Part 3 of 3)

Pairing - Batman x F!Hero!Reader Series - Under Your Skin Part 1 here | Part 2 here

Summary - In the aftermath of Harley's ambush, you and Batman actually have a civil conversation with each other. Could this be a fresh start for the two of you?

Warnings -Potential medical inaccuracies. Injury mentions. I think that's it?

A/N - This is getting posted a lot later than I had wanted, but life happened and kept getting in the way. But it's here now and, as always, hope you all enjoy 💜

Taglist - At the end of the fic. Please message me if you would like to be added/removed.

The first thing that Bruce was aware of was the dull throb in the side of his head. He groaned as he opened his eyes only for him to immediately shut them again as the light assaulted them. His first thought was a concussion. Which made sense since the last thing he remembered was Harley and her damn mallet.

He opened his eyes again, this time slower. Giving them time to adjust to the bright lights of the batcave’s medbay so he didn’t overwhelm them again. Slowly, and certainly against what he should be doing, he began to move to sit up. He groaned again as he rested against the back of the bed. Fuck, it had been a while since he had last felt this bad.

Since he was still alive, it was safe for him to conclude that you had managed to deal with Harley. Not that he had doubted it, but he was mad. At you. At Harley. At himself. The fact that it had happened at all and only because you hadn’t listened to him to begin with. He exhaled slowly. Getting worked up was making the tension in his head worse. Besides, maybe if he tried to calm his anger before he saw you next, there might be a chance for the two of you to start over.

“Finally decided to rejoin us I see.” Alfred walked over to the medbay, silver tray in hand. A glass of water and a couple of slices of toast sat on the tray.

“How long was I out for?” he asked, reaching over for the water.

“Several days,” he replied. “Mr Kent brought you back to the cave.”

Clark had brought him back here? Then what had happened to you? Were you okay? Since Alfred was unable to tell him, having been focused on assessing just how badly injured Bruce was, he texted the last person he knew to have seen you.

“You could have just texted back,” Bruce grumbled as the Kryptonian approached his medical bed. He shrugged.

“I was going to come by anyway so I figured I’d just tell you in person,” Clark replied.

“So what happened? How is she?” he asked again, slowly getting more frustrated.

“She was shot and she needed surgery, but she’s wake and doing well.”

Some of the tension faded at hearing that you were doing well. Though his brow furrowed a the thought of you being shot. There was no doubt in his mind that you were pissed off yourself at everything that had happened. If he approached his future conversation with you with his own anger, he was sure that the distance that had already painfully grown between the two of you, would grow further. And that could put the entire team in jeopardy.

This could be his chance to fix things, but only if he managed to keep the conversation civil. Which meant swallowing his anger and doing his best to be more open and forthcoming. It was going to go against every instinct that he had, but it was likely the only way that was going to work to try and bridge this gap.

Now all he had to was wait for his opportunity to get out of here and back to the Watchtower.

The lights of the medbay were fluorescent and were making your eyes and head hurt. They had been since you had woken up here a few days ago. By all accounts you had got lucky. Very lucky. The worst of your injuries had been the bullet wound. You had needed surgery to remove it and repair the damage it caused. While your arm and ribs had been bruised down to the bone from the force and strength behind the throw and hitting the hard ground. You had been told that if you had landed just a little bit wrong, your arm likely would have snapped. Again, you were very lucky.

You don’t remember much of what happened after getting shot and triggering your SOS beacon. A lot of it blurring into one as shock settled in and you quickly lost blood.

You had yet to see or even hear from Batman yet. According to Dinah and Oliver, when they had come to visit you, Superman had taken him back to the batcave to recover there whilst Wonder Woman had made sure that Harley Quin was returned back behind bars.

As far as you knew, he had yet to return to the Watchtower. You were sure if he had by now, you would definitely know about it since you were sure he blamed you for the entire situation happening to begin with. Hell, you blamed yourself. You shouldn’t have allowed yourself to become distracted like that. If you hadn’t managed to take on the hyenas and Harley, your mistake would have got the both of you killed.

Since there were no complications following your injury and, other than the pain that radiated from your ribs that the painkillers you were on barely touched, you were good to go home and rest there.

It was a slow process for you to get your suit on, your body protesting every movement, making you curse under your breath. If you’d had any other clothing on the Watchtower you would have chosen those instead, but you didn’t. Your ruined suit was all that you had. You made a mental note to bring some the next time you came back. You were already dreading removing it again once you were finally home.

“You were shot, you should be resting.”

You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Not here to shout? Blame me for what happened?” There was no bite in your words. Between the pain and the lack of energy you couldn’t be bothered.

“No. I’m not.”

You stopped what you were doing and looked at him. What? Was he feeling alright? You scoffed. “Damn, she must have really hit you hard in your head huh?” You turned away again, returning your focus back on making sure all of your equipment was there.

You heard him sigh softly. “It’s not like that…”

“Then what is it like?”

It was a fair question, you thought. Considering he currently had you cornered in the medbay right now. And all you wanted was to get home.

“We really need to talk.”

You sighed, but nodded. For once, he wasn’t wrong and you had known from the moment you woke up that this was coming.

“About how I fucked up? About how I almost got both of us killed?” The anger in your voice, for once, wasn’t for him. The longer you had to dwell over all of if, the more mad you had got at yourself.

“About everything.”

“Everything?”

You looked at him again, an eyebrow raised. If he was anyone else, you would have assumed it was a joke. But you knew he was dead serious. Batman didn’t know how to joke.

“Really? Everything? Right here where anyone can overhear us?” You gestured to the wide open space of the medbay around you. Batman looked around and then gestured with his head for you to follow him.

You followed him through the Watchtower at a pace that didn’t aggravate your injuries too much. You were sure he noticed because he adjusted his own pace to match yours, while still staying ahead of you. He led you into his laboratory. As soon as you both entered the room, he locked the door. Now the only concern was Superman, though something told you that he likely already knew so what the hell did it matter anyway?

You didn’t wait for him to offer you a seat, instead grabbing the nearest chair and carefully lowering yourself onto it. You could feel his eyes on you the entire time.

“I’m fine. It’s not the first time I’ve been shot.”

“Doesn’t matter if it’s the first time or the hundredth time, that’s still a severe injury. Not to forget the amount of bruising you have,” he replied.

“Thought medical records were supposed to be confidential? Even here?”

“Superman told me about you needing surgery for the bullet and, taking my strength into account and the hard flooring, it would make sense that you either broke something or ended up badly bruised,” he said very matter of factly.

You nodded. “So where are we even supposed to start after months of bullshit started by both of us?”

He hummed, but didn’t say anything. Which made you scoff as you realised.

“Really? You tell me I should be resting, considering I was shot, then you say we need to talk and you don’t even know where to start? Fuck me.” Your pain killers were starting to wear off and your patience for him was wearing thin.

“In my defence, with how you’ve been ignoring me, I didn’t think we would even get this far.” His voice remained calm, as did his body language. There was no sign of him becoming agitated despite the fact that you had snapped.

“Then how about we start with Star City?”

The conversation between the two of you was a long one. The longest that you both had had without it ending in a yelling match or sex. It certainly came as a surprise. As did his honesty.

“I shouldn’t have snapped the way I did. I let my emotions take over and I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

“Was any of what you said true?”

He nodded. He had meant what he said about making sure you could handle the burden that came with saving the world on a semi regular basis. But he had come to the conclusion that you could handle it just fine within the first couple of months. His aim had been to try and hurt you and he had no excuse for it.

You never thought you would see the day that he actually held himself responsible for his own actions. It was also likely as close to a “sorry” as you were going to get. Which was fine as it was more than you had been expecting to begin with anyway.

“I didn’t have to yell like that, could have just walked away instead. But that doesn’t mean I regret what I said.”

“Most people don’t.”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine why,” you replied, a small smile forming on your lips. I wasn’t hard to imagine the amount of people who must have yelled at him in a similar way because of what a dick he was being.

It felt good to not need to have your guard up around him all the time, waiting for him to start on you. It was clear to you that this was his try at a do over between the two of you and you agreed. It was needed. It didn’t mean you had to be best friends with each other. With all that had transpired you doubted that would possible, but if you could be on friendly terms, it would benefit the rest of the League a lot more.

By now your pain killers had fully worn off. Batman noticed before you could even say anything. He was up and out of his chair and left the room, without even a word to you. Which had left you wondering “”what the hell?”. Your confusion was answered when he returned with pills and a bottle of water in hand.

“I could’ve got them myself. I’m not completely helpless,” you said as he handed them both over. He shrugged and took his seat again. You muttered a thank you before chasing the pills down with the water.

Whilst you were waiting for the medication to kick in, he decided to keep the conversation going. Making sure that there was no chance for an uncomfortable silence.

“I never should have dragged you into that storage room to begin with. Clearly it made everything between us worse.”

His words almost had you choking on your water as you snorted.

“I could have escaped your grip and told you to go fuck yourself,” you replied, with a small shrug. “We’re both to blame for the way that escalated.”

It was the truth. You didn’t have to go along with him any time it had happened. You could have easily walked away whenever and you hadn’t until you had finally hit your breaking point. Things never should have been allowed to escalate that far, but both of you had let it. You knew that. As you were sure that he did as well.

Batman nodded in agreement. “Are we good now?” he asked.

“I mean, we’re better than we were. I think at least. Definitely not bestie though,” you replied.

“Of course not. That would be too far.”

You looked at him like he had just turned into his name sake. Had he just tried to joke? Today was just filled with firsts, it seemed. And it took you off guard enough for a small chuckle, which you immediately regretted as pain flared through you.

“You should get home and rest,” he said, standing up and he offered you his hand. You decided to take it. Anything to make your life just a little bit easier right now.

“I was trying to, you know, until you decided that you wanted to talk.” Your tone is lighthearted, making sure that there is no malice within it. He scoffed softly.

Batman walked with you toward the zeta tubes. Which you were sure the others would deem a strange sight if they saw it considering your past with each other. You activated the console and selected your destination. As the machine powered up, you felt his hand on your shoulder, prompting you to look at him.

“Since you’re already involved now, and the way you handled Harley, when you’re fully healed, I want your continued help on my current case.”

“You haven’t told anyone else yet?”

He shook his head. “I still need some to time to go through everything from the funhouse. Once I’m finished then I’ll inform the rest of the team, but since I involved you first, I thought I would ask for your help before going to anyone else.”

You nodded. You were sure it was taking him a lot to be so open. Hell, even asking for help, again, probably went against everything within him.

“Yeah, of course. You can count on me.”

Taglist - @the-last-twin-of-krypton @bakugous-bakahoe @fromfoolishpeopletodeadpeople @little-rivers @callalily2000 @geminicinderella @warsaur @theclassicvinyldragon @aniya7 @bluebear19 @jdream55 @x-ratedhimbo

#batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman x fem!reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #batman imagine #bruce wayne imagine #under your skin verse #my writing

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drowningparty · 17 days

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I have some thoughts re: Kayne / godhood (spoilers for intermezzo)

I don't think Kayne respects any of the other gods. He definitely doesn't respect the King in Yellow, he knocked him over the head w/ an oversized mallet to give him amnesia and stuck him in Arthur's head and reduced the Dreamlands to "a lawless waste" for a laugh. He also destroyed his city for the hell of it. He doesn't fucking care. He's rude to John, ignores him, says 'Arthur' when referring to both of them. I thought I noticed this undercurrent of quiet animosity, but felt vindicated during 40 + Intermezzo b/c he was suddenly soooooo loud! Ignoring & talking over John? Check. Telling him he's not special like Arthur? Check. Saying he'll torture him worse than Arthur just because he can? Check. My theory is it's b/c John's still a god, technically. Like the whole, choosing your own name + path... you'd think would be something Kayne could sympathize with (as much as Kayne can feel sympathy), but...........no. He knows John is easier to manipulate w/ fear (he can send him back to the Dark World w/ a snap of his fingers), and saves his faux sympathy for Arthur.

I think this is b/c he likes humans. Sure, he also likes killing them, but I don't think those impulses are mutually exclusive. Kayne's the most "human" of the gods we've met. He talks like a human, makes pop culture references, looks passingly human, etc. I think he envies them, in a way? They have a freedom I think he lacks as a god, even though they are confined to one timeline. We still don't fully understand how gods work, but from his description alone it sounds like he thinks of them as limited. They have incredible power compared to mortals, they exist outside the piano... but are confined to a single key. Which sounds to me like their path is predetermined and they're not intended to develop free will. Kayne's an anomaly b/c he does, or tries to.

He wants to put humans in an antfarm, perhaps as a demonstration of his free will. That's all Carcosa was, right? An antfarm. He wanted to play godzilla, smash the ants. Arthur's another ant in a different farm, and he watched his entire life play out across several verses to try to figure him out. What makes him unique is he dies in every other verse. Kayne can't figure out what makes this Arthur so special that he survives when all the others don't, but it implies he did something right with his free will, that this version is an "anomaly" like Kayne. He respects that, b/c it means this version of Arthur has done the same thing he has: taken control of their narrative. Even Kayne choosing his own name is an example of that. Becoming Kayne, rejecting the title Nyarlathotep and all the baggage that comes with it, the expectation to be what his father wants, a messenger for the outer gods (although he may still want that, I expect whatever his intentions are re: the Black Stone, they're his, not Azathoth's).

Arthur is usually a mirror for character's to see their humanity reflected, but instead of seeing his humanity (b/c he has none), Kayne looks at Arthur and sees himself. Which... surprised me? He seems so confident in his godhood, I thought he just viewed Arthur as his fave toy or human, like even in the S4 finale I found it hilarious how he kept going: "why can't you all just be more like Arthur???" apropo of.....nothing, but he didn't treat him like someone he identified with, so it caught me off-guard when he compared himself to Arthur, but that's big for a god! and I think it supports my thesis he envies humans for their freedom. Their roles aren't as "established" as a god's. Humans have free will, something he had to kill every other version of himself to gain. Even then, I think absorbing his alts (???) or whatever he did after killing them to become more powerful fucked him up, may have driven him mad if he wasn't already when he started this exercise in defending-himself-from-ever-getting-deleted, like he doesn't sound okay when he's talking to himself.

TLDR: Kayne thinks Arthur's special b/c he lived, when all the other Arthur's in Kayne's Arthur-Killing-Experiment died! (: Kayne can't figure out why, but he likes not knowing why. He likes humanity b/c of their freedom, b/c he's a chaos god who wants as much freedom as possible. And he's aware gods are fallible, they can be deleted, which takes all the romance out of godhood. Kayne's the most powerful god we've met b/c he's taken steps to emulate humanity's free will, the thing that makes Arthur "special," but what makes Arthur "hard to see" is probably his humanity. As much as Kayne likes humanity, I don't think it's something he can truly understand, which is why he enjoys sticking humans full of pins and trying.

I think it's neat Malevolent prizes humanity over godhood. Even gods seem to value humanity over godhood. John wants to become human. Yellow wants acceptance from a human. I think Kayne holds humans in higher esteem than gods. Those who look down on humans or try to 'ascend' and leave behind their humanity, like Larson, are clearly in the wrong. It's not seen as a weakness to be human, and even the parts of humanity that are usually written off as a weakness (our rage, grief, violence, desperation, etc...) are viewed as strengths in Malevolent, and I fucking love that about this show.

Anyway, I'll, uhh, shut up now.

#malevolent spoilers #malevolent #sorry if this doesn't make sense #I just think mad malevolent gods are neat (:#(rambles incoherently for six paragraphs) this could have been a tweet #kayne malevolent

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