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#hoping for more of them interacting in s2

toastytrip · 2 months

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I've been reinfected with the smiling friends virus we love to see it

Also bonus drawing with the bg!!

#smiling friends #smiling friends allan #smiling friends alan #pim pimling #smiling friends pim #the horrors the terrors #hoping for more of them interacting in s2 #it's a pim and alan adventure!!!!!!#chess #pimalan

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castelobyers · 11 months

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I love that Nancy always tries to hype Steve up when she sees him doing something good, like when they're camouflaging the shed and she says that him taking care of Dustin Max and Lucas as really cool, these kind of things make us see that Nancy really sees Steve and praise him for the good things he does, just like at the end of season 4 she says that Steve changed a lot when Jonathan doubt of his capacity, she sees him for what he really is and admire it.

I hate when I see people saying that Nancy was bad to Steve in season 2 because she wasn't, she was going though a lot of guilty and he was not understanding her, and yes the way she said it to him was not the best but she tried to tell him that she was not fine a lot of times and he was just trying to be practical and this wasn't what Nancy really needed, she needed to be heard and she needed to take that weight out of her shoulders in some way. At the end she hasn't told barb's family what happened to barb but she did something to make them move on with their lives and take some of that weight off her shoulders, she needs a partner in crime, she is a leader and believes in her own intuition, and Steve never really understood it, even in season four he still not understands her, that's why they doesn't work, they don't understand each other, it's not because Nancy is mean to Steve and it's not because Steve is some kind of abusive boyfriend, far from that, they just don't work together

#and yes i understand that steve was afraid of the government i would be either if i was them but try to pretend that everything was okay #wasn't the best way to make Nancy feels better #they just aren't a really good team like Nancy and Jonathan are #and she knows it #that's why she took Robin to penrust not Steve #she trusts him for a lot of things. he saved their lives uncountable times but he is not that kind of partner in crime that Jonathan is #or that Robin proves to be #thats why i love their friendship and i really really really hope to see more of this next season #these girls work so good together i have to see more of it #and obviously i need Steve and Jonathan interactions because it would be just so good #a dream team Steve/Jonathan - Nancy/Robin #anti Stancy #st rewatch #s2 #Nancy wheeler #steve Harrington

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i-hate-accidents · 2 months

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i hate accidents: the ball

femme!reader x benedict bridgerton, femme!reader & the bridgerton family, femme!reader & penelope featherington

summary: the adventures of a working class femme who befriends a fellow writer, a boisterous family, and a bewitching second eldest son

sections: I. the beginning / II. the between / III. the ball

y/n: bipoc, she/her, afab, nonbinary femme, queer, working class, of immigrant parents

content warnings: classism, mentions of financial survival, microaggressive sexism, microaggressive gender assumption, intersectional low self-image of y/n, positive/supportive families, nondescript mention of gagging (not related to self-image) in [III.iii], sexually charged 18+ interactions in middle to end of [III.iv]—minors dni, please stop at the end of the paragraph that begins "you repeat his words with sped up mockery"; you may resume at "you jut out your hip"

word count: 15.7k (of 38.8k)

story context: everything in s1 and s2 of the tv series is canon for this story except for the s2 epilogue with the bridgertons. this story takes place leading up to and into the 1815 season.

additional notes: this story is incomplete. scenes that are not written are described in chevrons <> with third person pov or are delineated by isolated ellipses. additionally, the author has only watched s2! she has not watched any of s1 aside from clips, and they have not read the books aside from quotes used in edits. they have not yet watched queen charlotte. the author kinda knows the gist of an offer from a gentleman; they are familiar with sophie beckett (and are excited to meet her/them in the tv series!).

author’s note: this is the first time the author has written fanfic in 13-15 years. :) it is her hope that they have made some progress since her pre/teens. additionally, this fanfic has been written, on and off, over the course of two years. the author sincerely hopes you find some sort of joy in it, especially the readers who maybe hope to see themself a little more specifically in the world we so love.

tagged: @omgsuperstarg @stvrdustalexx @bedobeeeee @crazymar15 @kahhorri @mayalopes @benedictbridgertonss @athensflower @02wrldz @queerlavalier @merlslrem @pillsbury-doughgirl @lamourdure3ans and all who have read either/both sections one and two—thank you. <3

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.i ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“you look like a princess, y/n!” hyacinth squeals in delight.

“i regret not being of age yet to attend balls,” gregory sighs. “i would have been honored to ask you for your first dance.”

you beam at the youngest bridgertons with all the fondness in your heart. judith, an elderly maid of number five, had attempted to dispel hyacinth and gregory from the room as your hair was done, but you had asked her to please allow them to stay. the two kept you at ease throughout the foreign process, and their sweet sincerity kept you grounded amidst the anxiety that still floods your veins.

“you are both too kind. and fear not; tomorrow morning we will have a ball all of our own,” you lean in for a whisper, them following suit to listen. “and perhaps we will need the talents, and bravery, of a young sorceress and a young knight to save the guests from the intrusion of an unruly wyvern.”

“you promise?!” hyacinth and gregory yell at the same time. you hold out your pinky finger, just as you used to do with your siblings, and the two young ones wrap their pinkies around yours.

“i promise.”

“you are all done, miss y/l/n,” says alice, placing the last pin into your hair. she steps back and curtsies. her formality towards you renders you uneasy; she treats you as above her but you are of the same world. you school your facial features from showing your unease; you do not want to upset her or have her wrongly think that she has done something wrong.

“no need to call me ‘miss.’ i am simply y/n!” you grin at alice. “a friend.”

she smiles, albeit a bit sheepishly.

“of course, y/n. are you ready to see yourself?”

you shudder in a breath. you had asked not to be prepared in front of a mirror. to have seen your transformation so readily reflected at you at every point of this process—

you exhale frantically. the maids and genevieve had graciously accommodated your wishes, both going so far as rearranging this room and her fitting room to avoid any lines of your sight with a potential reflection; you were, and are, utterly grateful.

but i am unable to delay the inevitable any longer.

standing up and squaring your shoulders, you give alice a feeble nod. she bows her head in response, a small, encouraging smile on her lips, and leads you to the mirror as hyacinth and gregory turn in their seats to watch you cross the room.

it is just a dress. it is just a tiara, and just some jewelry, and just some gloves, and just some shoes, and just a bit of makeup. it is just you. it is still you. be the courageous person you are, y/n.

or—

just before you see even a miniscule bit of your reflection in that accursed mirror, you shut your eyes tight.

—be a coward.

you continue step by agonizing step, approximating where the mirror is, and shudder in another breath.

perhaps i am being too dramatic. perhaps i can faint and feign illness. perhaps i shall run away by way of the nearest window. perhaps i—

“the mirror is to your left, y/n; whenever you are ready,” coaxes alice.

you exhale once more.

or perhaps, i should open my eyes.

and so you do.

oh.

“oh,” you say aloud.

the person you see in the gilded full-length mirror is, somehow, a complete stranger and entirely you.

the one time you’ve worn makeup before was for your elder sister’s wedding: a bit of your mother’s rouge on your cheeks and lips to have some color to your otherwise dull face. now, your cheekbones glow with a blush much more complimentary to your complexion than a mere red as your lips shine with a gossamer of a similar shade. entirely new to you are the glimmering minerals on your eyelids that magically bring attention to your eyes and make them shine like starlight.

your eyebrows have been plucked (much to your initial pain but your current appreciation), maintaining their shape and fullness but now without strays.

soft tendrils of curls frame your face, and your hair—normally worn down when not working—has been pulled back into a loose coiffure and styled with sprigs and small blooms, the crown of your head graced with a silver tiara.

“this,” violet smiled fondly when she first set the tiara on top of your head, “is the tiara i wore to my first ball after my presentation. i had insisted on keeping it, thinking i could pass it on to my daughter when her first ball had come. but daphne was resolute on having her own tiara, and eloise was resolute on not wearing any,” violet laughed, her eyes shining when they connected with yours, “i see now, though, perhaps it was always meant to be yours.”

“violet, i— i cannot wear this. it is too— it’s too—”

sumptuous? opulent? regal?

no.

well, yes, the tiara is all those things. but those were not what had concerned you then. it’s too—

“beautiful,” you admitted quietly.

something as beautiful as that surely does not belong on the head of someone like you.

“well,” violet smiled, “then you are merely proving my point, my dear. it perfectly suits you.”

you hold out your hands, flare out your fingers, and stretch out your arms, examining the dark forest green of your long satin gloves, mesmerized that a muted color with such depth and richness could be achieved through dyes.

moving your hand, you touch one of the small rosewhite pearls adorning your earlobes and, with your other hand, touch the inky oblong pearl that shimmers violet, indigo, and green as it hangs from the thin, black velvet choker around your neck.

“my dear,” mama appeared in your doorway one evening as you wrote at your table, “do you require jewelry for your occasion?”

“oh. i suppose i do? i hadn’t given it much thought.” jewelry had been the last thing on your mind of things that terrified you of the impending ball.

“well, if you have not been offered anything by the bridgerton family yet, i thought— i thought perhaps you might like these.”

she approached you, a small wooden box in her hand, and placed it on your table. taking the box into your hands, you looked at it and then up at mama. she smiled at you but something of her countenance seemed strained. nervous. you offered her a smile in an attempt to assuage whatever concerns preoccupied her mind and, turning back to the box, unclasped it open.

“these are the earrings and necklace i wore when i married your papa. they were gifts from your grandmama that were gifts from her mama. i had tried giving them to your sister when she was to be married, but she thought… they are plain, nothing like what those fashionable people wear, i am certain; but if you have nothing else, i—”

you shot up from your seat, throwing your arms around your mama, feeling how she reeled from the ferocity of your sudden embrace, as you clutched onto the box of her wedding jewelry.

“they are beautiful, mama,” you said quietly but emphatically as the vehemence of your emotions tried to trap your words in your throat. “they are the most beautiful things i have ever seen, and i am so— i am so honored to be bestowed with the blessing of wearing them, and of wearing them proudly. thank you.”

you heard how mama sniffed her nose, and how she tried to hide it, as she gently rubbed your back, as she always had in your moments of vulnerability.

“i love you, my child.”

“i love you, mama.”

you then touch your exposed shoulders. the neckline of your dress, nowhere near your neck, follows the curved peaks of your breasts to meet and form a small v-shape in the crevice of your bosom.

“where is the chemise?” was the first thing you had said when you first tried on the gown at the modiste.

genevieve grinned.

“there is none.”

your jaw dropped.

“then what of a stay? what sort of stay would be worn with this?”

turning slightly, and noting your rather bare upper arms in the process, you angle your exposed back towards the mirror. another v-shape, its furthest point down a third of your bare spine.

“my dear, both you and i know that you already know the answer to your inquiry.”

“oh, my good g—”

never, in your life, has the expanse of your upper body been so naked and on display than in this ball gown.

“i do not mean to doubt your artistry, genevieve; truly!, the dress is magnificent, but—” you turned to kathani, who had exclaimed and clapped with immense delight upon seeing you in the gown, “is this—— permissible?”

the viscountess had arched an eyebrow at you then.

“y/n y/l/n, concerned with the rules of society? and of high society, at that?”

“no— no!” you yelled all too loudly as genevieve chortled and placed pins for final alterations into the dress. “i just, i just do not want to embarrass you and your family, is all.”

you had not meant for your voice to come out so quiet and small. the older women’s faces softened immediately.

“you could never embarrass us, y/n,” kathani stated with such tenderness. then she smiled. “you look beautiful.”

the off-white base layer of the dress feels luxurious against your skin, the fabric hugging your upper body, puffing out at the sleeves, and, from the underbust, flowing and falling into a cone silhouette for the skirt—but what truly awes you is the artistry of the outermost layer. a cream translucent silk, the piña seda (you recall genevieve proudly naming it as) of the outermost layer glistens while you sway and turn your body, light shifting and transforming the ever beauty of the dress, the swish of the skirt moving like how waves are described in the passages of your books and in the reminiscing of your parents’ memories. lined at the underbust begins the intricate thicket of embroidered foliage, painstakingly threaded with innumerable shades of greens and blues, a shimmering teal threaded throughout to gleam in tandem with the sheen of the fabric. the embroidery of foliage then grows and thickens as it cascades down the middle of the dress and comes to an encircling end a few inches above and around the floor-length hem. in the negative space of the piña seda are spread out, small ivory embroideries of floral motifs.

it is a dress deserving of someone most beloved in titania’s garden court.

“indeed,” genevieve affirmed, a smile on her lips akin to kathani’s. “those in attendance will not be prepared. you will look the most beautiful of all.”

and perhaps…

perhaps you should be unnerved by how different your dress will be from the others’ of the ton. perhaps you should be unnerved by how easily you will stand out from the crowds. perhaps you should be unnerved by the attention, the whispers, the stares you will inevitably receive with your dress, with your appearance, with your presence, with your very existence. but, instead—

“i do look like a princess,” you say finally. quietly.

you do look beautiful.

like you could belong amidst the ton.

like you could belong with the bridgertons.

like you could belong with him.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.ii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“are you anxious, y/n?”

you turn to gregory at your side and see the swell of worry in his eyes.

“what gives you that impression?”

“you are shaking terribly,” hyacinth comments from your other side, replacing her usual pluck and wit with a worry akin to her brother’s.

the two had volunteered to escort you from the dressing room that you had been prepared in to the grand staircase of number five. with their arms hooked around yours, gregory on your left and hyacinth on your right, the youngest bridgertons have been walking you down the corridor. your heart aches with anguish: you know you have failed when the children are the ones to care for the adult.

“i am sorry to have concerned you both. yes, i— i am anxious.”

“it is reasonable to be anxious. but there are a great many cakes at these balls, or so i’ve heard, so you can eat one, and then another, to help ease your nerves!”

“how is that of any help, gregory.”

“it is plenty of help!”

“to eat and eat when she is already uneasy? the last time you were uneasy, you nearly—”

“do not recount that in front of y/n!”

“why not!”

“it is not— it is not proper!” gregory’s voice jumps in pitch, causing a swift blush to form on the apples of his cheeks. hyacinth snorts.

“why does your voice do that?”

“i do not know! kate said it is natural for bo— for young men to experience such a thing!”

“aren’t young men meant to be tall?”

“i am an inch taller than you now!”

“you are not!”

“i am too!”

you laugh. the youngest bridgertons halt their dispute and look at you.

“i must say, your usual squabbling is keeping me much at ease,” and you offer a sympathetic smile to gregory. “i am sorry that it seems to be at your expense, however.”

his eyes shine.

“you need not worry about me! i am glad to see you smile.”

“i as well,” hyacinth adds. you turn to her and see how her eyes shine too.

“i am most grateful to you both for being at my side on such a night.”

“we are most grateful for you, y/n.”

“that is something, and probably the singular thing, hyacinth and i can agree upon.”

you plant soft kisses on the tops of their heads, just as mama and papa and your elder sister had done when you were their ages. gregory and hyacinth nestle their heads into your upper arms and only part from you when the three of you reach the top of the first set of steps.

“are you ready?”

though you wish to say ‘no,’ you brace yourself with a deep inhale and nod.

your heart quickens with each step as time around you slows. your mouth has gone dry, and your body feels entirely numb, sensation only returning to you when you feel hyacinth and gregory unhook their arms from yours. turning your head, you see them stepping backwards, away from you, leaving you at the center of the landing to the rest of the grand staircase. you face forward once more, and ahead, below, you see the gentlemen and ladies of bridgerton house, waiting for you, looking at you.

you swallow.

for the very first time, in your dress, by yourself, you take a step forward.

breathe, y/n. shoulders back; tilt your chin up, but not too much; just as kathani had taught you. and just, breathe.

but it is hard to breathe with all eyes on you. with—

i must control myself. i must not seek him out. i must not seek out his face. i must not seek out those o—

you step on the hem of your dress and feel yourself start to fall forward. thankfully, god, for whatever reason, has blessed you with enough dexterity in this very moment, and you manage to catch yourself from tumbling down the steps as you hear gasps from above and below you. you mumble an apology (you don’t know why; it is not nearly loud enough for anyone to hear) and offer everyone a smile. upon seeing their relaxed shoulders and reassured expressions, you continue to descend the staircase.

stupid benedict. distracting me in remembering how to walk, and how to breathe, and how to—

oh.

i am doing it again.

shit.

goddamnit, stupid benedict!

somehow, you reach the landing of number five’s entrance hall without any additional accidents and, approaching the bridgertons, immediately look to the viscountess. as if knowing you seek her approval, kathani nods her head; a beam illuminates her countenance. you feel yourself ease, your shoulders relaxing (that you promptly square again; you are, after all, pretending to be a lady for the night), your heart racing less, if only minutely, and manage a smile. you feel someone take hold of your gloved hand and, turning to face the source, see violet gazing at you.

“beautiful.”

it is all she says, but with such tenderness in her voice, it makes your heart swell.

“the importance of appearance,” rasps eloise, causing you to turn to her, “and the lengths gone to achieve so-called perfection of such, especially for those of feminine disposition, is an entirely antiquated, offensive concept that must be eradicated from our, and all, societies—— but you do, look, beautiful, y/n.”

you grin.

“we’ll eradicate it together; and with help along the way, i am certain.”

when she responds in kind, you turn to the gentlemen, and, to your mortification, colin and anthony bow at you. the high society etiquette directed towards you from your friends overwhelms you with an embarrassment that you cannot even begin to fathom; they haven’t performed such formalities towards you since your first meeting all those months ago. but, in spite of your horror, the sincerity of their intentions, as well as their countenances, touches you deeply.

“madame delacroix and the maids have outdone themselves,” remarks anthony. “as mother and eloise have said, you look beautiful, y/n.”

“indeed,” colin beams. when he turns to benedict, however, his smile transforms into an expression befitting of a fairytale creature; one with mischievous intentions. “what say you, brother?”

you follow his line of sight and connect with ocean eyes. the flood of self-consciousness and the tempo of your heartbeats magnify hundredfold under his gaze, the butterflies within you fluttering the most violently they ever have, and you feel as though your entire body has been set ablaze.

anthony, with what looks like a smirk, nudges his brother with his elbow. as if suddenly aware of where he is, benedict hastily bows at you and, returning his ocean eyes to yours, says,

“you look— well.”

you hear eloise snort. turning your head towards her, you see she has completely sucked in her lips. to her left, kathani smiles massively. to kathani’s left, violet remains ever poised but with wide, sparkling eyes. you still feel self-conscious but are infinitely amused by whatever is happening to the bridgertons and, with a playful smile on your lips, return your gaze to benedict.

“thank you, mr. bridgerton. i had felt uneasy with an unnerved stomach earlier, but i am glad to know that my health appears to be in proper order.”

and you deeply curtsy at him.

from above you hear the sweet giggles of the youngest bridgertons. ahead, in your periphery, you see how anthony closes his eyes as he sucks in air through his nostrils and how colin, with an unabashed laugh, clasps his hand onto benedict’s shoulder.

“well!” anthony booms, attempting to control his smile on what ought to be an authoritative expression. “i believe we have a ball to commence. shall you lead the way, viscountess?”

and with an expression both equal in authority and warmth, kathani declares,

“i shall.”

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.iii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

you had grown ease of mind knowing that you would not be asked to dance. not only were you a stranger to everyone in the ton aside from the bridgertons and penelope, you were also not handsome like the debutantes flitting about the room, swishing prettily in their gowns, strategically but delicately fluttering their eyes at a gentleman with which they wished to dance. with anonymity and a plain face, you enjoyed the haven of people observing, snickering at the artifice and smiling at the sincerity. kathani chatting with her guests. anthony standing by her side. penelope dancing with colin. eloise hiding behind a plant. violet beaming at her family. (you tried to convince yourself that you had not noticed the absence of a particular person.) your nerves have finally begun to calm, finding content in your station at the margins of the dance floor.

when colin bridgerton approaches you, hand outstretched in your direction, with a twinkle in his eyes.

“miss y/l/n, may you do me the honor?”

“i’m sorry, what?”

he laughs.

“will you dance with me?”

you gape at him.

“you’re mad.”

“my mind is perfectly intact.”

“this is unwise.”

“this is the best decision i have made this night.”

“i shall surely step on your toes.”

“i have worn my sturdiest shoes for the occasion.”

the corners of your mouth tug down into a moue at the third bridgerton’s stubborn charm. his grin merely widens as your eyes narrow to slits at him. penelope approaches from behind the beguiling imp and smiles warmly at you.

“it will be fun,” she encourages. “i promise.”

penelope! no!

“et tu, brute?” you bemoan.

she shrugs.

“what is a ball without dancing?” penelope offers. sweet innocence colors her voice, but the delighted glint in her eyes reveals her true duplicitous nature. she knew exactly how to play the game of this conversation, no doubt a devious plot concocted between her and her beau.

you sigh.

“fine,” you huff, slapping your hand into colin’s palm. “i would be honored, mr. bridgerton.”

the diabolical duo laughs at the sarcasm that drips from your words as colin leads you to the lineup on the dance floor.

–

“how is the dance treating you, miss y/l/n?”

“i hate you.”

colin guffaws. (you see in your periphery how heads shift towards him and how eyes narrow at you. the partner you had just left looks at you with particular scrutiny.)

“if your hatred towards me is the cost of you enjoying the ball, then it is a burden i shall carry, and happily so.”

“has anyone ever told you how infuriating you bridgertons are?”

“no, but we very well know that we are,” he grins, “and we take immense pride in it.”

you groan, throwing your head back. (you hear murmurs around you. not ladylike.)

“are you truly not having fun?” the gentleness in his voice makes you look back at him. his expression is soft. sad. guilty. “we can leave the lineup, if that is what you would like.”

you consider his words and his offer.

“i am having fun,” you reply truthfully. his eyes light up at that and your heart warms at the sight. “it is just— being in a circumstance so wholly unfamiliar— it’s overwhelming, is all, i think. but…” you feel a smile form on your lips, “knowing that you all—as infuriating as you bridgertons are—are here with me, by my side, wanting me to enjoy myself, wanting me to be happy, it makes all the overwhelming feeling worthwhile. i am happy. you all make me happy.”

colin doesn’t say anything. he just stares at you as the two of you dance still. you are about to inquire—

“i am grateful to call you my friend, y/n. becoming your friend has been one of the greatest blessings to have been bestowed upon me and my family.”

you suck in a breath.

as is becoming yours has been one of mine.

but another thought also lives in your mind. so, on the exhale of your breath, you smirk.

“only second to falling in love with penelope, yes?”

he laughs, an uncharacteristic shy smile forming on his lips as he looks at his feet and then back at you, eyes shining incandescently.

“i hope you do not take offense to being second.”

“being second to penelope is truly, sincerely, still a victory in of itself. you are very blessed, indeed, to be her premier.”

you did not think colin’s eyes could shine brighter than they had mere moments prior, but you suppose— no, you are certain that this is the effect that the love of penelope featherington has on the third eldest bridgerton: the light in colin’s eyes is absolute radiance.

“‘very blessed’ is to put it very lightly.”

with unabashed grins, you and colin continue to dance. you have to walk most of the steps, often keeping good on your promise and stepping on his toes, but your partner is deterred neither by your incompetence nor by his injuries. the two of you laugh (drawing leers from the other guests, you notice but brush off) and end your dance with exaggerated flourishes of a curtsy and a bow to one another.

“you underestimate your dancing skills, miss y/l/n,” colin remarks with a beam.

“see if you feel the same after tending to your bruises, mr. bridgerton,” you beam back.

“colin bridgerton!”

you both whip your gazes to the call of colin’s name and see a man fastly, eagerly approaching.

“hastings!”

hastings? why does that sound familiar?

colin and the absurdly handsome man embrace, smiles broad and sincere.

“i was uncertain you would be joining us on this occasion.”

“we would have seen to arriving early, as we had intended, but augie is proving to be quite unpredictable with his tantrums as of late.”

“he must take after his uncles,” colin smirks with odd pride. that makes the other man chuckle.

“unfortunately, it seems to be so.”

he then shifts his gaze onto you. his expression is curious and— sweet? kindly. you feel yourself become rather self-conscious as you notice, in your periphery, colin assuming a posture of gentlemanliness.

“my apologies for my dreadful manners. simon, this is miss y/n y/l/n. y/n, this is simon basset.”

simon bows most graciously at you.

“good evening, miss y/l/n. it is a true pleasure to finally meet you. i am simon basset, daphne’s husband.”

daphne?

as in daphne bridgerton?

you recall the day you and benedict toured the art gallery: a portrait, a fairly recent one, it seemed, of a beautiful young woman and a beautiful young man—the duchess and the duke of hastings, the plaque read.

your jaw drops.

“you are the duke!” you remember the etiquette kathani taught you. “your grace!” and you sloppily curtsy.

simon laughs.

“that is hardly necessary. please, if you feel comfortable in doing so, call me simon.”

“yes— of course!, your— simon,” you compose yourself. “and you may call me y/n; i would prefer it, actually.”

simon grins.

“then, y/n, may i have the honor of having your next dance?”

your jaw drops again, your composure completely falling away. you look at simon, who is utterly amused by your reaction, and then to colin, who is utterly delighted by the turn of events, and back to simon.

“that is a mistake.”

that earns guffaws from both of the men. (you feel stares falling upon them and, once again, scowls falling upon you.)

“i am more than willing to make that discovery for myself, if you will allow it.”

you throw back your head (ignoring the additional glares shot your way) and, with a sigh, whip it back to look at simon with a fatigued, but earnest, smile.

“i shall allow it.”

colin bows his head at you, his grin having never left his countenance since the end of your dance together, and steps to the side as you place your hand into simon’s outstretched one and are led to the next lineup by the duke.

–

“has the duchess accompanied you to the ball this evening?”

“while it is poor courtesy to speak on behalf of my wife when she can speak for herself, i can say, with confidence, that she would much rather you call her daphne.”

“kathani had taught me your society’s etiquette in preparation for the ball, in the event it would be necessary,” you roll your eyes. “while i find it all utterly ridiculous, and entirely unnecessary for me in particular, i want to honor the knowledge that my teacher has bestowed upon me as a way to honor her.”

simon grins.

“you are a dedicated student. indeed, she is in attendance. the last i had seen her, she was tending to benedict.”

your heart sinks.

oh no.

“tending to benedict? is he unwell? did something happen? is he all right?”

you hear how your voice rises in pitch and grows louder and more frantic with each word. (you try not to care for the stares that you feel on you. they are not of importance right now——or ever.)

is that why i have not seen him all night? because he is in poor condition? shall i leave the ball? shall i see where he is being tended to? shall i—

“y/n?”

oh. yes. you were having a conversation with simon.

“sorry, what did you say?”

“i had said that i did not mean to worry you,” simon says sincerely, but there is something in his smile. not suspicious, neither mocking nor teasing. it is as if he is withholding the full expression of his emotion. “i simply mean that she is speaking with him and— encouraging him, is all.”

you feel the entirety of your body, mind, heart, and soul ease; but now, you are perplexed.

“encouraging him? whatever for?”

“i had not stayed with them long enough to hear the details of their conversation; i had sought you out rather immediately.”

“me!”

the dance had timed perfectly that upon receiving such information, you are forced to turn to another partner (who is unnerved to have you as a temporary companion). when you reunite with simon, his chuckling has mostly subsided.

“indeed. the viscount had encouraged me to ask you for a dance. the viscountess then stated that you required the practice.”

“i—— am utterly lacking in words in how to respond to that.”

“if it is of any comfort to you, it was something i had already intended on doing.”

“that is, rather strange?”

he grins.

“i can see how that is so from your perspective, yes. but from mine,” and it surprises you how suddenly simon’s countenance softens, “i had to find out for myself how wonderful this y/n y/l/n is to have so easily won the affections of all the bridgertons at number five. daff and i, as well as francesca, were becoming quite jealous that we did not have the good fortune to spend time with you as the rest of the family has had.”

“the family has… spoken of me?”

“in these past months of knowing you, you have become their most beloved topic of conversation. hyacinth and gregory idolize how resplendent of a storyteller you are. eloise adores being challenged by your intellect. colin aspires to your ferocity of quick wit. kate cherishes every discussion you share together. anthony reveres your unwavering resolve. violet becomes overcome with delight at every recounting of a memory in which you are involved. and benedict…”

you swallow.

“yes?”

you hear how feeble and quiet your voice has become.

“never stops speaking of you; so much so that it would be impossible to abridge what he loves in you.”

you shut your eyes closed at the words “he loves” and attempt to control the tears that threaten to flow at the word “you.”

the love he has for you is not the love you have for him.

“i— i did not know that they held me in such high regard,” you whisper.

you flutter your eyes open, grateful that no tears have fallen, and are greeted by the gentlest of smiles from simon. it assuages your soul.

“the highest of regards. they care very deeply for you.”

“and i care very deeply for them,” you declare softly. you then feel yourself break out into a smile. “i cannot say the same for you, yet, but i can see it forthcoming.”

simon throws his head back with a loud laugh, your smile transforming into a large grin (as you ignore the scowls that fall upon you). simon whips his head back to you, and he too wears a large grin.

“i am honored that you see the potential within me.”

with a final spin, you and simon release the other’s hand, ending the dance in a curtsy and a bow, both of your grins non-faltering.

“thank you for bestowing me the honor of dancing with you.”

you snort. (you hear scoffs and other suppressed noises of disapproval.)

“i fail to see how much of an honor it is to have someone incessantly knock into you, but if such is your feeling,” you curtsy with much theatricality and, upon your rise, let out a sigh of relief. “now, i shall retire to the margins once more.”

simon, once again, looks as if he is withholding the full expression of his emotions, but in it you detect— delight? you narrow your eyes.

“what?”

“you are not meant for the margins, y/n; please forgive me,” and with that, simon bows, his smile still non-faltering, and turns to leave you in the middle of the dance floor.

you are about to call out his name, curious and agitated by his vagueness—

“y/n?”

you turn around to the familiar voice and are greeted by a smiling anthony.

“oh no. are you going to ask me for the honor of having my next dance?”

the viscount looks as if he is about to howl with laughter and attempts to mask it, poorly, with his absurdly elated smile.

“is the idea of dancing with me truly so appalling?”

“the idea of dancing more is what i find so appalling.”

“i shan’t force you to do anything you do not want to do.”

“but how will your pride take it?”

this time anthony fully howls (earning looks of confusion at the host and their looks, predictably, turning to glares when they trace the impropriety back to you).

“i am always working on humbling myself,” he says, his expression softening. “i assure you that i, as well as my pride, can manage your rejection if it means that you are happy. you need not worry about my well-being.”

these damned bridgertons, and their damned charm, and their damned sincerity.

despite your internal accusations, you smile. you offer your hand (hearing a gasp or a few around you), and beaming, anthony takes it.

–

“you look like a princess, y/n!”

the saccharine words of hyacinth echo in your mind. with the transmutative magics of your fairy godmothers in mama, violet, kathani, genevieve, judith, alice, and the maids of bridgerton house, the impossible was made possible: you look like a princess. but it is not until this very moment, after descending a regal staircase, after entering this enchanting ball, after dancing with two dashing gentlemen and now a third, that you feel like a princess. you recall how you and your siblings played imagination; how you often asked to be the princess; how you did it so often that mama sewed you a dress from scraps of fabric and papa crafted you a crown out of discarded branches and your elder sister announced you as princess y/n whenever you played and your younger sibling waltzed with you around the first floor of your home. it makes you elated with childlike wonder how fortunate you are to be here and how lovely it is to be here, how strange and wonderful it is that imagination has become real life; as if it is all a wish for which you did not know you had wished, a wish that you did not know you had wanted to come true until it came true.

but—

“is there something on your mind, y/n?” you hear anthony ask, sometime after returning to him as your partner. “you seem pensive.”

“ah, yes. despite my gripes with you, and your brother, and your brother-in-law insisting on dancing with me—”

“i gave you an option not to do so!”

“i am not finished speaking!”

he huffs out air through his nostrils, waiting with what seems to be a morsel of patience for you to continue.

“despite my gripes with you, your brother, and your brother-in-law insisting on dancing with me—” anthony gives you a tired look that of an older sibling; you grin, “i am enjoying myself. i just wish, i just wish my family could be here with me, to enjoy it too.”

anthony’s expression softens immediately, and it makes your heart tighten. you know with what gravity, duty, and love he looks after the entirety of his family; you have witnessed it at every given second since becoming his friend. if someone were to be with you as you navigate this pain, you are glad that it is anthony.

“we shall invite them to the next ball we host,” he declares. your jaw drops. “it was a lack of foresight on my part for not doing so for this occasion, and i shan’t make that error again.”

you try to do rough estimations of what costs that would entail for the bridgertons— dresses and coats and shoes and four to six sets of two abstained days of work at least.

“anthony, i cannot possibly ask you to—”

“you did not ask,” he grins. “i offered. and i do so wholeheartedly. it shall not be a trouble for us, just strategic planning as kathani and i work the books. and before you protest—” you frown, both disappointed and flattered that anthony could sense your retaliation, “it is something i—as well as the rest of the family, i am certain—wish to do. if you won’t consider it for yourself and your family, then perhaps consider it as a gift to us selfish bridgertons.”

that makes you laugh loudly as you feel tears form in your eyes (whispers of you be damned). expression turning gentle once more, anthony continues,

“it would be an honor to finally meet your family. if they are even an inkling like you, then they must be truly wonderful, indeed.”

with a small sniffle of your nose and all the gratitude in your heart, you smile.

“they are. they are truly wonderful. i love them so much.”

anthony smiles in return with a nod of his head.

“then it is settled.”

“you are a good brother, anthony.”

you have wondered often if that is something anthony knows. while the bridgertons’ love for one another is apparent in all that they do and say and breathe, you haven’t heard them say very complimentary things to one another, particularly to the eldest. it is typical of families to tease and to jest, you know that intimately, but you also know how important, then, it is to tell your family what you truly think of them, how you truly feel of them. they ought to know just how much they are loved.

though his overall demeanor is composed and dignified, the softness in anthony’s eyes reveals his true emotion.

“and you are a good sibling, y/n.”

< their dance eventually comes to an end. someone approaches them. >

“good evening, brother,” benedict turns his ocean eyes to you. “good evening, y/n.”

“good evening, benedict.”

you vaguely hear something in your periphery. you turn to it and see a brilliant grin lighting up the viscount’s countenance.

“huh?”

“i had said that the viscountess is calling me over to her. i must pardon myself.”

“oh. yes. farewell, anthony.”

his grin broadens, dimples forming in his cheeks, and he bows. you see how, as he brings himself upright, his eyes shift towards his brother, the delight in his grin never leaving but something in his eyes… softening? before you can fully process it, he has turned and now walks towards kathani.

you turn back to benedict.

“i—— good evening, y/n.”

“good evening, benedict. though, we have already greeted each other this night, just moments ago.”

“ah, yes— that—— that would be correct. and— is… correct.”

he is anxious. your heart aches at the sight, and you want to reach out and touch him, comfort him, ease whatever his concerns are—but you refrain.

benedict clears his throat.

“are you— are you enjoying yourself?”

while heavy by benedict’s current state, your heart cannot help but glow brighter at his question.

“yes, tremendously so. the dancing has been plenty fun, despite how horrendous i am at it.”

that makes benedict laugh, and relief floods your body, mind, soul, and heart. it is good to hear him laugh. to see him smile.

“i do not think you are as horrendous as you think you are. your form has been quite good.”

you cock your head, feeling the scrunch of your eyebrows and the smirk on your lips.

“you have been observing me?”

his jaw drops, his body stiffening again. suddenly shy, he looks at his shoes and, with a cough, looks back up at you, and you attempt to hold in your gasp.

how.

how is that, after all this time, he makes these butterflies within me flutter still.

“i— i do not have a clever diversion for that. yes; yes, i have. i suppose i have been building the— the courage within myself.”

“‘the courage’? the courage for what?”

he swallows.

“to ask you to dance with me.”

oh.

“oh.”

he looks… he looks scared. exposed. vulnerable.

you feel them within yourself, too.

he offers his hand.

“may i dance with you, y/n?”

you place your hand in his.

“yes. yes, you may, benedict.”

i am terrified of nothing else and would love nothing more than to dance with you.

benedict leads you to the floor, his ocean eyes never leaving yours, your eyes never leaving his.

the quartet starts up, and you detect how it is music for a waltz. of all the dances you were taught, even you can admit that you were best at learning the waltz.

…

you curtsy as he bows. benedict places his hand on your waist, and you try not to elicit your gasp from feeling his touch.

< their dance commences. they are silent. a lot of staring and shit.

< notably, y/n is not cognizant of the ton’s perception of her while she dances with benedict as she had been with her previous partners. it seems her sole focus in this moment is dancing with benedict, being with benedict. her heart, mind, body, and soul is with him.

< y/n’s mind goes Rampant when benedict places his hand on her exposed shoulder. >

do not close your eyes, you reprimand yourself. if you close your eyes, you will indulge. you will indulge in this sensation. in this touch. in his touch. in benedict’s bare hand on the expanse of your exposed skin. in imagination. in fantasies. in thoughts. in other thoughts on other parts of your body that you so, so very much want him to—

“i had not spoken properly.”

you try not to shudder a gasp upon hearing his voice.

“pardon?” you say, a bit breathless. the dance calling for it, benedict twirls you, and you are now face to face again.

“earlier; when i had commented on your appearance, i had said you looked well.”

you snort, recalling the peculiar word choice, and that earns a smile from benedict.

“what i had meant to say is—“ he swallows, “you look beautiful, y/n.”

“i think,” you respond perhaps too swiftly, “that is testimony to genevieve’s skill and not to my appearance.”

“i think genevieve only enhances what is already there.”

you want to change, you don’t want to change— you do want to change the topic. you cannot handle whatever— whatever benedict is insinuating. the indecipherable, intense, attentive gaze of his ocean eyes on you. it is so much; it is too much.

“she spoke of you.”

shit. why did i say that?

his face immediately falls, ocean eyes transforming with it.

shit.

“genevieve spoke of me? with you? why?”

“kathani had accompanied me to the modiste, and i had shared with genevieve how i became acquainted with penelope and the bridgertons,” you half-truth. “talking about the family, and then you, was a natural consequence.”

“what did she say? about me?”

you try not to wince at the urgency in his voice.

“she shared how you and she had— an intimate and passionate acquaintance,” you divulge, using the words your friend had to describe the artists’ relationship. perhaps you imagine the sensation, but you feel benedict wince as you dance. “and that it was brief and no more.”

“she said that? ‘brief and no more’?”

“indeed.”

he sighs. you detect relief in the exhale, but perhaps you had, once again, imagined it. you always had an active imagination; trying to bend what you perceive to what you wish was real.

“i see,” is all benedict says.

“do you care for her?” you inquire. it is truly masochistic, what you are doing. but you cannot help yourself. it is something you often do when benedict is near. when you and he are so close.

there is a small silence.

“i did. at least, i think i did,” he shares. “i was hurt when our— acquaintance came to an end, but i was not heartbroken. i had known nothing of heartbreak, not until—”

and he suddenly stops speaking, sucking in his lips.

“until?”

“nothing. nevermind. forget i had said anything,” he says all too quickly. you laugh, and he scrunches his face in adorable disapproval at you.

“well, that only makes me the more curious, benedict! the mystery of it, and your very clear blush, indicate it must have been quite the event.”

“i am not blushing!”

“you cannot lie about something i can literally see.”

“you are infuriating.”

“and what do you think you are?”

benedict just pouts at you, though you see the twinkle in his ocean eyes. you want the twinkle to be of affection, but you will settle for amusement. for friendship. you take pride in how you can elicit this reaction out of him. you take joy in how he can elicit this reaction out of you. you love him, and you are grateful that is something you can say and know and feel. even if he does not love you as you love him.

“the first time i felt heartbreak,” he begins, finally giving in. you perk up in anticipation. “was when— was when you had walked out of the house after i had crumpled the paper to the floor.”

you nearly stop in your tracks, halting your waltz with benedict entirely, until you find a way to recover and continue the steps with him. he is looking intently at you, waiting for your response. you inhale a breath and on the exhale say,

“oh.”

it is a pathetic response, but it is the only one you can muster at this moment. breath has entirely left your lungs, your heart palpitates at a maddening rate, the lightning of benedict’s touch and proximity magnifying at every passing second.

“i had hurt you, this person whom i—” he swallows, “whom i care for, deeply and completely. i was, and am, ashamed of my deed and the arrogant thoughts and beliefs that led me to do it.”

“i have long forgiven you for that, benedict.”

“it is something of which i am not deserving.”

“you cannot tell me what to think or do,” you challenge, arching an eyebrow at him to add levity to the conversation. benedict smiles, despite himself, and it makes your body flood with relief and joy.

“i would never dare.”

“as you shouldn’t,” you grin, then inhaling and exhaling through your nostrils. “you need not flagellate yourself for what you did. that accomplishes nothing, and guilt is entirely useless in the structures that be,” you say resolutely. more softly, you continue. “my forgiveness is something i gave you willingly because it is what i truly wanted. because i knew, and know, how you wish to do better. i see that in everything you do; in your art, in your character. it is something i admire in you.”

benedict simply stares at you, his ocean eyes impossible to decipher again. his gaze is overwhelming, but you refuse to break it.

“i was about to say how undeserving i am of your compassion,” he says, “but then swiftly realized you would have just admonished me.”

you laugh.

“you were correct in thinking so, yes.”

he looks at you still, his expression still impossible to decipher, but there is something soft about it.

“thank you, y/n.”

the butterflies within you flutter once more.

“and if you ever wish to discard your paper again,” you diverge from your feelings, “simply hand it to me. i am always in need of more.”

he laughs fully, the corners of his eyes crinkling with delight, and you feel the flutterings violently rage within. perhaps diversion was not the wisest choice (or perhaps it was, if it meant that you were the one to make benedict laugh like that).

“i have gotten quite good at maximizing the amount of negative space on a sheet, but nothing would delight me more than to support your writing.”

“i am most grateful for your patronage, mr. bridgerton.”

benedict makes something of a gagging noise, and you snort loudly.

“you are making it strange with the master-servant relation, y/n.”

“ah, so you are learning,” you comment with a sagacious nod of approval. it is now benedict’s turn to snort.

“what can i say?” he grins. “i have the greatest of teachers.”

“they have done quite well; please give them my regards.”

“i shall.”

and with the music coming to an end, you turn to face one another, wide and wild smiles on your faces. you curtsy as benedict bows.

“may i fetch you a drink?” he inquires after you are both upright again.

“is alcohol served at these occasions?”

benedict laughs.

“champagne it is.”

he gives you one more bow, lingering a moment more with one more smile, before taking off to retrieve your drink.

you try to bite back your smile, but it’s entirely useless. you twirl in your spot, feeling the swish of your dress in the spin, for you cannot help yourself. you cannot help how much joy radiates off of you in this moment, how giddy you are. it feels like a fairytale. you look in the direction benedict took off and feel your smile widen.

it is dangerous what you are doing— indulging in this. but you do not care.

this is undoubtedly the most wondrous night of your life.

“so you’re the pauper that the bridgertons have invited to their ball.”

you freeze.

“how else would you have been asked to dance by the host—the viscount and a bridgerton, nonetheless; his two brothers; and the elusive duke of hastings? it is an endearing sight, really.”

her posse snickers.

“the bridgertons have always been so kind and thoughtful in that way, extending their hands to the less fortunate. why they chose you, however, remains a mystery. if it were a pretty face that appealed to them, i perhaps could have understood, but you are simple at best.”

“you are cressida cowper,” you state.

penelope and eloise had warned you about a cruel creature amongst the ton, and the young woman before you matches all of the criteria they had described: icy platinum hair, draconian eyes, and a haughty disposition that ought to be reserved for the royals.

cressida daintily gasps and smiles at you with what seems to be all the mockery she can muster.

“i see that my reputation precedes me! though, only those of my standing can refer to me as such. cannot have my name tainted by the mouths of the lowly.”

you feel the gazes of other guests on you. you hear muffled sneers.

this is entertainment for them.

you should say something, stand up for yourself— against cressida, against her posse, against the ton— but you don’t. you can’t. your mouth has gone dry, your mind has gone silent, your body has gone numb. you have never, ever felt more powerless.

“your dress— did the bridgertons pay for it? of course they did. pity, though, for their wealth to go to waste on such an offensive thing. allow me to assist you—”

and she pours her drink onto you.

you try not to gasp at the chill of the liquid making contact with your skin. looking down, you see a reddish purple stain seep into the cream fabric of your ball gown as it continues to travel downwards.

you hear cressida giggle. you look up.

“better,” she simpers. “beautiful at last.”

her posse sneers with delight. the guests who had tried to suppress their laughs do nothing to hide their mirth now.

this is entertainment for them. my humiliation— it is entertainment for them.

you step into cressida’s space, eliciting a stunned gasp from her as the others follow suit, and shove your face as closely to hers as possible.

“if we were not in your domain, i would rip out your delicate hair and strike my hand across your pretty little face. but i am a lady—not in blood nor in title, but in character. and with your words and your deeds, you have shown just how utterly undeserving you are of such a title with your complete void of morals, compassion, and integrity. i do not care what you think of me, cressida, or what drinks you pour on me because i can rest easy in my sleep and waking hours knowing with perfect certainty that i am nothing like you. i bid you good night.”

and maintaining the ferocity of your glare on her horrified eyes, you muster up the most mocking, deep curtsy you can, turn, hitch up your skirt, and run away. you cannot care for the booming silence from that creature and her posse, for the murmurs and glowers of the ton thrown your way. you cannot take time to process what words a flutters-inducing voice snarls at cressida.

no.

you must simply run away, quickly and efficiently, because you refuse to give into these monsters’ satisfaction of seeing your tears.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.iv ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

the cool air of the night whips your face as you run as far and as deep as you can into the gardens. you curse your damned shoes, for they are slippery and nothing like your sturdy boots, and they make you realize even further how much you have fucked up in allowing yourself to get this far. in allowing yourself to go to the ball, in allowing yourself to dance, in allowing yourself to fall in—

feeling your shoe catch on something, you fall forward and throw your hands out in front of you, your gloved palms digging into the bark of a tree trunk as you attempt to steady yourself. you attempt to control the staggered rhythm of your breath, the sobs that choke out of your throat, the palpitations that threaten to collapse your heart.

why did i allow myself to get this far?

“y/n—”

you snap your gaze over to the call of your name as your stomach knots, somehow, even now, with flutterings upon hearing his voice.

“benedict, no— just— no,” you manage to croak out, stepping away from where he approaches. you hold up your hand, as if it is a magical force that will push him away. it does not. “just go, please, just go.”

“i refuse to leave you, y/n, you are hurt—”

you cackle, sniffling the snot that tries to escape your nostrils. you push your remaining hand off the tree and turn towards him.

“hurt? what gave you that impression? is it the tears? they are just water, benedict, they will dry.”

“this is not the time to jest!”

“then what do you want of me!”

“to allow me to help you!”

“why! why do you care! why do you care for some, some low status person like me!”

“that is not how i see you!”

“THAT IS WHAT I AM.”

he freezes. you feel yourself clenching your hands into fists, your nails digging into your palms through the satin of the gloves that were bought for you.

“you are the son of a viscountess, a brother to a viscount. i wonder every day if my family will have enough food to eat at our one meal. we—” you gesture between the two of you, “—are not of the same world. and maybe, maybe it should have stayed that way. to, to have stayed in our own worlds. we should have stayed in our own worlds!”

“and is that what you want?” he shoots back.

“what?” you snark.

“is that what you want? for us to stay in our own worlds?”

you fall silent, words suddenly failing you, breath suddenly leaving you. he huffs out a breath and continues.

“if that is what you want, i shall stay away from you. i shall never bother you. i shall never hurt you as i have. we shall—” benedict swallows, “we shall forget each other. if that is what you want, y/n, i shall give it to you.”

you do not respond to him. you stare into him as he stares into you.

“is that what you want?”

you shake your head as you feel fresh tears rush to your eyes.

“then what do you want?” he softly asks.

you flutter your eyes closed and breathe in. on your exhale, you open your eyes to the tear-blurry sight of benedict still looking at you with such tenderness in his ocean eyes.

“i want you,” you whisper.

you barely have time to process anything else when benedict surges forward and wraps his arms around you in a crushing embrace. tears fall even harder than before as you cry into his chest and wrap your arms around him.

benedict pulls back from the embrace to look at you, to cup your cheek, to wipe away the tears that fall so quickly from your eyes.

“i want you, y/n. i want to be yours. i want to be in your world, i want our worlds to be one. i want to go wherever you go. i want to make you laugh and to make you smile every day and every night; i want to do everything with you. i want to be with you, to share this life with you. from the moment i met you, from the moment you intended to shake my hand, i have wanted nothing more than to share all the time i have on this earth with you. i do not care for balls, i do not care for the ton, i care— i care for you, y/n. these are not the circumstances in which i wanted to confess this, with you crying and us yelling at one another, but i must be true with you. i—”

“benedict?”

“yes?”

“may i kiss you?”

benedict’s jaw drops and you laugh at his shock, sniffling your nose as you beam at him. he quickly recovers, breaking out into the smile that has always made you flutter with butterflies, the smile that you always secretly hoped, dreamed, wished was reserved for you. and you begin to think that, after all this time, perhaps it is.

“good god, please, yes—”

he barely completes his ‘yes’ when you jump forward to crash your lips into his. benedict practically trips backwards with the force of your eager leap, the two of you laughing into your kiss at the messiness of it all, as he holds you both steady.

this is your first kiss. you are so glad that it is benedict.

and somewhere within you blooms the hope that he is your last first kiss.

you have no idea what you’re doing, or what you should be doing, but you are far too much enjoying having benedict’s lips on yours, your hands on his cheeks, his hands on your waist, and your bodies pressing more and more into each other to give the slightest care. and the smile you feel against yours makes you think that benedict doesn’t mind—at all.

you pull apart to breathe, but your lips do not move far from one another.

“i love you.”

“i love you, too.”

“and i am sorry.”

“for loving me?”

you feel benedict jump back as he holds you, his face absolutely crestfallen, panic flooding his eyes, and he’s about to open his mouth to speak when you giggle and peck his parted lips with yours.

“i’m teasing you, my love.”

benedict’s eyes soften but quickly glint with mischief. you’re curious about the expression when you feel him tickling the sides of your waist.

“okay, okay!” you gasp with laughter as he tickles on. “i— i yield, i yield!”

benedict grins victoriously, his tickles fading into him softly rubbing circles on your waist.

“i am sorry for saying that is not how i see you, when you spoke of your social standing. i had not meant it that way, but i understand now how it was understood, and i should not have said it as i did. i know that i have lived a life of unfathomable ease with the wealth and circumstances into which i was born. the privileges i hold are not things i had reflected on, really, until— until i met you.”

you soften at his earnestness, by the way he humbles himself before you. but you cannot help the giddy mischief that bubbles from within.

“did you only reflect on your privileges as to win a femme’s favor?”

benedict’s jaw drops again, but you see how his ocean eyes shine with like-minded playfulness.

“do you truly think so lowly of me?”

you grin.

“perhaps.”

you feel benedict teasingly threaten his hands into tickling position onto your waist, and laughing, you shoo them away. he grins and softens his gaze once more.

“what i wanted to say to you earlier is— i wish you did not speak of yourself so harshly. as if you are unworthy of care from me because of your status. i care for you, i love you, y/n, as you are. as you were, as you will be. with all your circumstances, all your experiences, all your deeds, all your words, all your thoughts, all your feelings. for your heart, for your mind, for your soul. i love you because you are you, and i wish for you to see that, for you to see you as i see you. as so many of us see you.”

“i— i do not know what to say.”

“you do not have to say anything; just to, if i may ask of you, seed my words into your heart and mind and soul and know them to be true, wholly and completely,” a playful smile forms on his lips. “though, i must say, i am rather pleased with myself for rendering a writer with ferocious conviction speechless.”

you roll your eyes, but your voice is soft.

“you have had that effect on me for quite some time, benedict.”

benedict swallows and gently rubs circles onto your waist again.

“i love you, benedict.”

“i love you, too.”

< y/n and benedict, hand-in-hand, start to walk towards the house; they are taking their time. >

“are you certain you want to return the ball?” benedict inquires. “we can stay here in the gardens and wait until the last of the guests have gone.”

you hum.

“i would like to dance.”

“ah, was there a gentleman or a lady who caught your eye, miss y/l/n?”

“oh, loads. i hope it won’t make you terribly jealous, mr. bridgerton.”

“it will, but i shall simply stare at them maliciously if their hands are to roam.”

“yes, my form is reserved for your hands and your hands alone.”

you exchange grins.

“indeed.”

benedict nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, and you laugh. he lifts his head and plants a soft kiss on your temple.

“are you certain? i do not mean to doubt you or your wishes to dance. we can dance out here, under the bright light of the moon. i want you to feel content and safe.”

“i do feel content and safe. with you. with the family. within myself. i shan’t let the ton or cressida ruin my first ball. though, the idea of dancing in the moonlight is quite enticing. perhaps another night?”

“you have my word,” and bringing your hand to his lips, he kisses your knuckles. a serene silence falls between you two until benedict makes some sort of a noise in his throat, as if to clear his voice.

“i, uh, must say,” benedict begins, “your confrontation with cressida was, uh, quite— alluring.”

you stop, letting go of his hand, and stare at him.

“alluring?”

a delicious blush colors your love’s face.

“indeed.”

a newfound bravery blooms in you.

you step into his space, not breaking eye contact with his blown out pupils, the ocean of his eyes mere outlines. you sneak your lips towards his ear and hear a soft whimper emit from his lips.

“is that something of interest to you, mr. bridgerton?” you murmur, your bottom lip barely grazing his earlobe. you feel him shiver and inhale. “when you see someone be put in their place?”

he exhales frantically.

“it is something of interest to me when— when you do it,” he admits, as if out of breath. you smile, pressing your bottom lip softly into his earlobe. he does nothing to hold back his moan as you do everything in your power to hold in yours.

“that is good to know,” and quickly rip away from him.

in your step back, you take in benedict’s state—flustered, expectant, ruttish—and wink at him. you turn and walk away at your leisure, putting on a performance of superiority as you hide your own arousal.

it is only a few moments later that you hear benedict follow you.

“you,” he says, voice still fraught with desire but full with love, “will be the death of me.”

you look back at him and grin.

“and what would you like me to put on your epitaph?”

“benedict bridgerton, he who, in life and in death, loves the best soul to have ever existed.”

you cannot help your giddy self and close the distance between the two of you once more, grabbing his face and pressing your smile into his. benedict happily obliges as he places his hands at the low of your waist and pulls you closer into him.

< they get into it!

< y/n takes off her gloves so that she can touch benedict; she is about to throw them on the ground. >

“wait—”

and he takes your gloves.

“hm?”

“your gloves. they were costly to make,” benedict states as he stuffs them into the inside pockets of his jacket. “i don’t want to be flippant in letting them be discarded to the ground.”

you gape at him.

“you concern yourself with the cost of my gloves?”

“why, yes, of course, it is something i—”

you clutch onto the lapels of benedict’s jacket and push him backward into a nearby hedge, his mouth now agape and his pupils dark with a desire you very much want to satisfy.

“i find your consideration quite alluring.”

in the midst of his apparent arousal, benedict giggles, and that makes you grin.

“what is it?”

“a hedge, y/n? of all things to anchor me against?”

you roll your eyes.

“it was this, benedict, or the bark of a tree.”

“ah, so i should be grateful then.”

you repeat his words with sped up mockery, making him laugh and the corners of his eyes crinkle in the adorable way that is so very distinctly benedict, and you capture your love’s lips again to shut him up, smiling and laughing into the kiss.

…

“what do you want?”

“you. whatever you want, benedict, i want it. please.”

“are you certain?” he breathes into your ear.

“god, yes, benedict, please, yes.”

“then—”

benedict positions his head downward, burying his face into the crevice of your bosom, and before you can even begin to tease him for his absurdity, you feel the wetness of his tongue flat against the curvature of your right breast. your gasp of surprise quickly transforms into an ungodly guttural wail, feeling yourself dig your fingernails into benedict’s back, arching into him to steady yourself, as he painstakingly drags the flat of his tongue from your right breast against the expanse of your exposed chest to the length of your right shoulder. dazed and euphoric, you feel how benedict sneaks towards your ear, hovers it, panting ragged breaths,

“i’ve wanted to do that since you descended the stairs in that dress. and—”

taking your left hand, benedict pushes your middle finger and forefinger fully into his mouth. he methodically works his tongue against them as he guides your hand to pull and push in him, his blown out pupils never once leaving your intoxicated stare. you feel the desperate urge to throw your head back at the incandescent eroticism that throbs from your fingertips to the rest of your body, but may god smite you if you willingly tear your eyes away from the divine sight of benedict’s almost oceanless eyes gaping into you as his gorgeous mouth sucks on your fingers. just before you feel as though you are to fully blank out and ascend into the heavens, benedict rips your hand out of his mouth, the action creating an obscenely delicious ‘pop’ sound, and, wrapping his hand around your wrist, pulls you back into him, your face finding respite just below his shoulder.

“i’ve wanted to do that since first drawing your hand.”

you laugh-cry into his jacket.

“shit, benedict.”

your love laughs and nudges his head into yours and rests it there as he softly rubs circles on your back with his thumb.

“please—” good god, breathe, “please remind me to ask you more frequently what you want.”

“did you enjoy it?”

“no, benedict, i quite plainly hated it.”

“i’d be glad to accept your critiques.”

“i know you would,” you smile into his jacket and, lifting your head, are greeted by your favorite sight: benedict, with his soft smile and his gentle ocean eyes.

“i have never felt like that before,” you admit in a whisper.

“nor have i,” he whispers back. that shocks you, and you must have made your reaction visible because benedict emits a laugh through his nose, soft smile and gentle ocean eyes unfaltering.

“but you have been with others before; you’ve had similar experiences, yes?”

you had assumed that your exhilaration must have been, apart from it being benedict, rooted in your lack of experience in such things.

benedict brushes a loose strand of your hair away from your eyes and tucks it behind your ear, his hand moving down to cup your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing it.

“yes, but those were different.”

you cock your head in response. he smiles, as if it is apparent.

“because they are not you.”

the sweetness of benedict’s ocean eyes are quickly replaced with shock then delight and then you don’t know what because he closes them as you crash your lips into his. whatever you had just felt before, you want it again. you want benedict. all of him. and you want all of him to feel what you just had.

you lick his teeth, and granting your wish, benedict opens his mouth more, groaning, bringing his hands to the curvatures of your ass, pushing your bodies even closer together though no space left exists between the two of you. you move your hand to the back of his head and, gripping a tuft of his hair, pull it roughly just as you capture his tongue with your mouth and suck hard. the sounds that benedict produce in reaction are entirely inhuman, but you vaguely deduce he is trying to say your name, and you’ve never attended a concert but, my god, nothing will ever sound as harmonious as the symphony that is your name gutturally trapped in benedict’s throat.

continuing with the work you’ve done to undo benedict thus far, you take your other hand and start to rake it against his body, starting at the base of his throat, taking time and leisure to explore, lowering and pressing into his chest, wondering wildly what beauty exists behind his damned shirt, lowering and feeling the firmness of his stomach and trying not to completely undo yourself with the sinful, transcendent thoughts of putting your tongue there, lowering and lowering and touching something curious and unfamiliar and hard and—

when he pushes you off of him.

“benedict, i— i am so sorry,” you panic, “please, what did i—”

“no, no,” he swallows, “you did— you have nothing to apologize for, my love, you were— uh— you were doing quite——” he clears his throat, “you were doing quite well; very well, actually…”

you continue to frown, still concerned.

“then why are you so tottery?”

“because— because if we were to continue, i do not think— i know i would not last for— um, for very much longer.”

you jut out your hip, putting the knuckles of your fist on it, and furrow your eyebrows at him.

“benedict bridgerton, i still do not understand what you are trying to convey. speak plainly.”

“we should stop.”

your jaw drops, as does your hand from your hip.

“why?” you practically whine. you should be embarrassed by your desperation, but to be entirely frank, you couldn't care less. benedict huffs out a laugh, still breathless, and, stepping towards you, lays a tender kiss on your forehead.

“as much as i would love for us to continue, i think being in the family gardens with a ball being held a few meters away is hardly an ideal location for the more— involved aspects of such activities. the aspects i’d like to explain to you,” he takes another step into your space, lowering his voice to an unfamiliar but enrapturing gravel, “the aspects i’d like to show you.”

you swallow your whimper.

“i—— i would very much like that,” you manage. and then you grin, “though, exploring such aspects in the family gardens sounds like it would be quite the adventure. a calculated risk, if you will.”

the alluring tone of benedict’s voice is completely replaced with a giggle, and your grin broadens as you press even closer into him and nudge your nose against his. benedict rests his forehead against yours and flutters his eyes closed.

“what did i do to have you love me back?”

you flutter your eyes closed.

“you were you. you are you.”

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.v ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< ahead, y/n sees kathani. she makes the connection that kathani must have accompanied benedict as a chaperone so that y/n wouldn’t be “disgraced” by having a man by himself chase after her.

< as the two approach the viscountess, kathani recognizes how disheveled y/n and benedict look and promptly fixes them to look more presentable. she takes some hedge leaves out of benedict’s hair. >

“i see that you are well, y/n?” inquires kathani.

“never better, actually.”

she laughs, a smile falling on her lips.

“i am sincerely glad to hear that.”

< they walk closer to bridgerton house. >

“you are fortunate that it was not anthony who volunteered to chaperone. he would have not reacted well to his loved one being dishonored, as he would say, particularly on family grounds.”

“oh dear,” you say, nervous and suddenly self-conscious. you do not want to be the target of the eldest bridgerton’s wrath. “what have i done to dishonor—“

kathani laughs.

“i wasn’t referring to you, chellam. i was referring to him,” and she juts her chin out at benedict.

“me!”

“anthony will be furious when he finds out that you have been— private,” she says, gesturing to his newly tidied appearance, “with y/n in the gardens. not very gentlemanly of you.”

“he won’t find out!” benedict pauses. “he won’t find out— right, kate?”

kathani just makes a face of feigned deep thought and you chortle.

“kate!”

“i do not keep secrets from my husband, benedict.”

“but what if it’s for love?” he implores. he says it facetiously, but you feel with what conviction he exudes his true feeling.

kathani’s expression softens as she looks between you and benedict. you offer a small nod and a smile, confirming her thoughts. she beams at you but then narrows her eyes at benedict. there is no heat to her gaze; she is, however, having the most sublime time making her brother-in-law squirm.

“i do not keep secrets from my husband, benedict,” kathani repeats. benedict groans, throwing his head back like a disgruntled child, and you belly laugh at him.

“i hope you are ready for gregory to be your second,” she continues.

you almost double over as benedict snaps his head forward to look at his sister-in-law.

“gregory!”

“indeed. it is a shame as well— anthony’s accustomed second being the one he has to duel,” she sighs dramatically. “oh well. colin will make a fine replacement.”

“this family is ridiculous,” you declare, grinning like mad. “gregory seems a tad young, though. what about eloise? i am sure she would be a more than suitable second for benedict.”

“oh, i have no doubt,” grins back kathani, “but i would not dare involve a woman in the idiocy of men and their ludicrous concepts of honor.”

you and kathani laugh loudly, delighted by how much you are enjoying yourselves, untroubled by benedict’s moping.

“it has been wonderful being in love with you, benedict,” you state simply. “it’s a pity that it has to come to an end so soon."

kathani snorts. benedict stops in his tracks and gapes at you.

“you think i would lose the duel!”

“anthony is more stubborn; he would let it fuel his will to live.”

“i think you underestimate how much i love you and how that fuels my will to live.”

you smile. in your periphery, kathani smiles. despite his current displeasure with you, your love smiles.

“i suppose i do.”

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.vi ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< upon returning to the ball, y/n, benedict, and kathani see how anthony and violet are ensuring that the cowpers are leaving. before the family leaves, y/n approaches cressida. >

“i do hope to see you at another one of these events. if you find a way, of course, not to have yourself kicked out.”

and you curtsy. you turn to your love, his mouth in a wide smile and ocean eyes sparkling, and offer him a wink. you hear the quartet start up.

“i believe it is time for another round of dancing. care to be my partner?”

“i would love nothing more.”

< they dance. it is sweet, silly, romantic, and delightful. both y/n and benedict touch each other beyond what is considered proper, like hands laying too low on the waist or eliminating the space between their bodies, but they truly do not care. their unabashed joy is abundantly evident to everyone in the ballroom, but they are only focused on one another. they are in their own world. they giggle, they grin; it is the happiness they both deserve.

< they dance the next set.

< after her and benedict’s third dance together, y/n makes eye contact with violet, who is at the margins of the dancefloor, eyes wide with joy. >

“as much as i love dancing with you, my love,” you beam, “i think i am in need of a new partner.”

< y/n approaches violet and with a bow asks her for the honor of being her next dance. though delighted, violet remarks how she is too old, and y/n says that the youngsters can learn a thing or two from her wisdom and skill. >

“we would need permission from the host,” offers violet.

“from anthony! you birthed him! you granted him permission to exist!”

that makes violet laugh.

< violet agrees, and they walk hand in hand to the dance floor. in this dance, y/n and violet are partnered, benedict partnered with penelope, kathani partnered with anthony. >

…

“you’ve told each other."

“has anyone remarked how keenly insightful you are, violet bridgerton?"

“no,” the dowager replies with twinkling eyes, “but it is something of which i am well aware, and take great pride in. i am happy for you both.”

“i am so glad to have your approval.”

“oh tosh! as if a mother’s approval or disapproval can get in the way of real, true love.”

“perhaps so, but it is affirming to have the blessing from someone you so dearly love in a matter such as this.”

“you make it easy to love you, my dear.”

< the dance calls for a switch in partners. y/n becomes partnered with penelope, and violet becomes partnered with benedict. >

“thank you, pen.”

“whatever for?”

“for bumping into me at the markets.”

penelope laughs.

“accidents are quite good, are they not?”

“i despise them, actually,” you declare with a grin.

< penelope reveals that benedict shared with her why he was not seen for the first three dances of the night. >

your jaw drops, and penelope merely titters in response.

“is that why i didn’t see him! because he was lurking in the crowds to prevent men from approaching me?”

“it has been my discovery that the bridgerton brothers do not handle their jealousies well.”

“do you think gregory shall be the same?”

“oh, i am entirely certain. he shall likely be the worst of all.”

the two of you snort as you are sent back to your partners, penelope with benedict and you with violet.

“and what has you and penelope in such giggles?”

“making barbs at your sons.”

violet laughs.

“they make it awfully easy to do so, do they not?”

< the dance comes to an end. violet plants a soft kiss on y/n’s head.

< turning, y/n connects eyes with benedict who wears an incandescently happy expression. >

how could you not see it before? how in love he is with you.

< tired but elated, y/n takes a break from dancing. she reunites with the rest of the bridgertons at the ball. y/n finally meets daphne, who remarks that she has heard so much about y/n. eloise shares how the family wished to check in on y/n when she had returned to the ball to see that she was well; in a rare smile rather than a smirk, eloise shares that, upon seeing her dance and dance again with benedict, that she looked quite well indeed. at some point in the conversation with the bridgertons, y/n inquires when she can meet francesca.

< time passes, and joy is had amongst the bridgertons, penelope, simon, and y/n. y/n cannot believe her happiness.

< the last dance is called. benedict approaches y/n. >

“may i have the honor of being your final dance of the night?"

“you aren’t tired of me yet?”

“i shall never tire of you, y/n.”

upon taking your hand, benedict twirls you once then twice as he leads you towards the dance floor. giggling and grinning, you decide to do the same to him, causing him to giggle and grin right along with you.

< they dance a fourth time. >

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.vii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< the guests have made their leave from the bridgerton ball. colin, eloise, and violet have gone to their respective bedchambers.

< anthony, benedict, kathani, and y/n walk up the steps of the grand staircase. anthony has his hand clamped on benedict’s forearm and pulls him up the steps with particular determination and quiet fury. >

“i know where i sleep, brother! i have slept there since we were children!”

“i am well aware of that, benedict, and i am also well aware of how you— roam when enticed.”

benedict looks at anthony, to you (you just shrug as you look on at the exchange with excitement), and back to anthony.

“do you people really think so little of me!”

“i do not think little of you, brother, i just know you.”

benedict’s shock deepens incredulously, though you see the smile underscoring it all.

“i am a man of honor! i am a gentleman!”

“yes, as am i, as is colin, as was father; all bridgerton men are, and all bridgerton men are idiots around the persons for whom they have affections. now, go into your bedchamber,” anthony finishes as he shoves his younger brother into the room.

“you are a nightmare!” you hear your love shout from within.

“and you are to stay here for the remainder of the night!” he shouts back, leaning forward to grab the knob to benedict’s bedchamber and pulling the door shut with a loud thud. he turns to kathani, composure returning to his senses.

“my dearest, may you call samuel and lawrence, please? i shall have samuel stationed here and lawrence stationed outside benedict’s window. they will be paid double their wage for these extemporary responsibilities.”

you laugh with your whole stomach and feel tears sting your eyes. you have no concern in hiding your howls until you remember hyacinth and gregory are asleep and promptly clamp your hand over your mouth. your hand succeeds in muffling your laughter, but marginally.

kathani rolls her eyes at her husband and deeply sighs.

“i shall,” she replies, smiling at her love’s antics.

pleased with her answer, anthony right about turns at benedict’s door, places his hands behind his back, and stands up tall, taking his temporary duty as guard with the utmost gravity. something then eases in his posture, and he turns to you.

“i hope you have enjoyed your night, y/n.”

your heart swells.

“it was wondrous, anthony. thank you.”

he beams, brilliant delight in his eyes.

“i wish you good rest.”

and with a bow of his head, anthony turns away from you and assumes his station once more, gravity and perfect posture and all.

the viscountess turns to you, her smile having softened, and says, “let me escort you back to your bedchamber. i shall help you prepare for bed.”

–

“despite his many flaws,” kathani says with all amusement and fondness in her voice as she removes the pins from your hair, “anthony is, indeed, a man of honor and honesty.”

“i never had my doubts, but—” you snort, “that has certainly proved it.”

“it is because he thinks so highly of you,” she shares, looking at you in the mirror. you turn around in your seat and connect with her eyes, eyes that are filled with so much warmth. “he cares deeply for you, y/n. anthony is only that overbearing and overly protective when it comes to his family, and he sees you as our family. we all do.”

you suck in air through your nostrils, feeling the swell of your heart. how did you get so fortunate as to be so loved by this family?

though, you detect something in kathani. her words are sincere, of that you are not doubtful, but they do not seem complete. it is as if she wants to say more, if the blossoming twinkle in her eyes is indicative of anything. but kathani does not elaborate.

instead, she picks up the brush on the vanity and gently brushes your hair. it reminds you of when your elder sister used to brush your hair before bedtime. you close your eyes, humming.

“i see you all as my family, too.”

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.viii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< the next morning, late morning. the dining room. >

“you are infernal,” benedict deadpans to anthony, staring at his brother and taking his seat next to you.

“you are incorrigible; i was correct,” anthony responds, his eyes not leaving his paper.

“correct about what, brother?” hyacinth asks.

despite their current rivalry, benedict and anthony both freeze. kate speaks on their behalf.

“your eldest had deemed it necessary to have lawrence stationed outside below benedict’s bedchamber window in the early morn and was proved correct in doing so; your second eldest had attempted to escape by way of that route.”

“stationed outside his window? why would that be necessary?” gregory inquires. he turns to benedict. “and why were you trying to leave through your window?”

in his periphery, benedict sees you whipping your head. you seem to have suddenly found some interest in the painting on the wall faced away from the current scene. he notices how you hide your smile behind your fist and how you attempt to suppress the convulsions of your laughter. kate, on the other hand, unapologetically laughs.

“i am certain you will learn in due time, gregory. it is something of a tradition, it seems.”

“will i get to participate in this tradition?” hyacinth enthuses.

“NO!” benedict and anthony shout in tandem. they look at each other, and the elder gives a ‘see!’ face to the younger. benedict just rolls his eyes.

his eyes eventually land back on you: you have now totally hidden your face in your hands with elbows perched on the table for support, any attempts at hiding your laughter now entirely gone. your entire body vibrates as you somehow squeak and guffaw into the palms of your hands.

“ugh, why do adults always speak in such vague statements!” hyacinth grumbles as she slumps in her chair and crosses her arms. she then suddenly shoots back up and looks at you. “y/n, you only speak in riddles when we play! may we play now?”

“yes! may we play now?” gregory pipes up.

“please!” the two youngest plead in tandem. benedict looks to you, and wiping away your hands to reveal your face red from laughter, you say,

“i would be— i would be delighted to do so,” you take sharp breaths in between attempts at controlling your laughter. “perhaps—” you full on snort, and it makes benedict break out into a grin, “—perhaps, after the young sorceress and— and the young knight slay the wyvern, they— they will save the— the—” you laugh hard again, “the princess, captive and forlorn in her tower.”

gregory and hyacinth shout their joy and take off from the table.

“you haven’t been excu!— oh, nevermind,” anthony grumbles in an uncanny, childlike resemblance to his youngest sibling.

benedict watches as you use your forefingers to swipe at the corners of your e/c eyes, fits of laughter still bubbling out of your mouth.

i love her, and she loves me, he thinks in awe. it has been on repeat in his mind since you confessed to one another in the gardens just the night prior. she is mine, and i am hers.

“your lordship,” you giggle still as you look at anthony, and benedict snickers, “may i be excused to play make-believe with your youngest siblings?”

anthony rolls his eyes with much theatricality, but his smile at you is sincere.

“you are not my sibling,” he states, but benedict catches how his elder brother quickly glances at him with eyes that say ‘yet,’ “you need not my permission, but yes, you may.”

you bow your head in dramatic gratitude, causing kate to titter and anthony to look to the ceiling, and you lift yourself up from your seat.

before you follow after his siblings, benedict reaches out and gently takes your hand. you look at him, and he feels how his stomach flutters when his blue eyes makes contact with your e/c. just as it did the first time, just as it did every time after.

benedict feels you softly rub three circles on his hand. he softly rubs four circles on yours.

“good day, princess,” you say with a wink at your love, slowly slipping your hand away from his and then turning to walk out of the dining room. benedict stares at you as you leave.

i love her, and she loves me. she is mine, and i am hers.

“when do you intend on proposing, brother?” anthony smirks as he puts his teacup to his lips.

benedict smiles, looking off at where your laughter is heard.

“later this afternoon.”

anthony chokes on his tea, and kate, patting her coughing husband’s back, arches an eyebrow at her brother-in-law, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“without a ring?”

benedict turns to look at the couple and grins.

“who said i don’t have a ring?”

“you are joking,” anthony says matter-of-factly. “we all are excited at the prospects of y/n officially joining this family, but you just confessed your love for one another not even twelve hours ago. we are still breaking fast! there were guards at your door and your window! how could you have already procured a ring?”

benedict smiles, digging into his pocket.

“i do not jest, brother.”

and, with pride, he holds up a thin band made of twisted paper.

“now, if you will excuse me,” benedict announces, lifting himself out of his seat, giving a kiss to the top of kate’s head, and ruffling anthony’s hair. “i must be going.”

“and where are you off?” anthony demands as he straightens out his hair.

“do you think i am going to propose to y/n without asking her family’s permission first? would not be very gentlemanly of me if i did.”

“how do you know where she lives!”

“that is what you were asking penelope last night,” kate answers. anthony looks at his wife, incredulous and in awe. benedict grins.

“exactly so, sister. i’ve always known you held all the intelligence between you two. i would have seen to it sooner, but—”

an image of e/c eyes and ink-stained hands flashes in his mind, the flutterings in his stomach intensifying. butterflies— that is what he will paint next, he decides.

after he finishes his portrait of you.

“—i was held captive in my tower.”

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fuckyeahgoodomens · 2 years

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Good Omens NYCC panel recap

- Guests: Neil Gaiman, Douglas Mackinnon, Rob Wilkins, Maggie Service, Nina Sosanya and Guelin Sepulveda, it is said that Michael Sheen will join at the end over Zoom.

About Season 1

- What do they miss most when S1 wrapped and before S2:

Douglas: All the cast and all the crew. We were very big and cuddly family.

Neil: Yeah.

Rob: David Tennant and Michael Sheen.

Nina: Missing the mentioned family and being part of the nuns sisterhood.

- At the beginning they shared several bts stories from season 1 and the book:

First day of shooting in the bookshop was cancelled because of the blizzard and the second day they were foreced to shoot interiors because outside there were people with flamethrowers trying to melt what was there. So they build the set of Soho 2 inside.

Rob kept a lot of the vehicles from S1 and S2, all the motorbikes, the cars, and now I have topped it with Crowley’s Bentley.

A lot of nuns including Maggie had warts, but Nina didn’t want one.

Neil about Nina’s audition (read more here).

That both Michael and David both independently suggested that he might like to write a Good Omens stage play so they may swap roles each night.

About Michael originally being Crowley (more here and here).

About Terry and Neil being Aziraphale and Crowley - Neil: In the creation of Crowley Terry took the things that I did that he thought were hilarious, like wearing sunglasses indoors when I didn’t need to. He put a lot of me into Crowley but then we both put a lot of ourselves into both of them. (here, also this).

Michael Sheen is amazing mimic, Neil recalls that during one of the final scenes he had producer headphones on, the guys were acting and sitting on the bench and all of the sudden David Tennant started saying awful things about Michael Sheen, just, you know, there’s Crowley and Aziraphale talking and Crowley is saying all this stuff about how Aziraphale is fat Michael can’t act and all the stuff and I’m like ‘Whaat?! David is the nicest man in the world...’ and then the penny drops and it’s Michael sitting there doing pitch perfect as Crowley.

About Season 2

- What was like for Quelin to join the show:

She was a fan. The very first day was a bit like out of body experience, there was a scene where she interacted with David and Michael. So it was like, ‘Concentrate, Quelin, concentrate! It’s okay, it’s okay!’ And it was just overwhelming in the best of ways, honestly.

She plays angel Muriel. When Neil and John Finnemore talked about season 2, they realized that they didn't have another nice, well-meaning angels except for Aziraphale in Heaven, all they had were bastards, all awfull, so they thought ‘Let’s have a nice one’ and so they created angel Muriel, curious, gullible, well-meaning and chatty angel that spent 6000 filing in the same office in Heaven hoping that somebody would come in and the day would get more interesting and it doesn’t.

She’s a 37th order scrivener, bottom of the pily, it’s her first time to Earth.

- They felt Terry’s presence also during filming S2.

- Douglas said that they started doing the ADR post production and that the difference between David and Michael is that David looks at the monitor and whatches what he’s done and Michael never watch, so now Michael saw himself for the first time and he was like a fan doing, ‘Oh look we’re back! And there’s Aziraphale!’.

- Neil about Maggie and Nina returning:

It was a thing where one of the things I was very very certain before I started writing season 2 that there were two characters in it and I wanted them to be played by Maggie and Nina, so in order to make it clear to everybody reading the script, that they were going to be played by Maggie and Nina, I called the characters Maggie and Nina. Maggie and Nina liked being Maggie and Nina so the names stayed.

Douglas joked that he thought that a bit lazy not to think up new names and it was hell on set. Later he jokes that since Muriel is an actual angel name, that Neil didn’t make that one either.

Maggie runs a record shop which is beside Aziraphale’s bookshop in Soho, Mr. Fell is her landlord, shop passed through the generations. Her shop looks across shop where Nina works.

Nina works in the independent coffeeshop Give Me Coffe or Give Me Death, she is good with dealing with people in Soho who come in, not afraid of dealing with them. Wears great cardigans. Her character is quite grumpy. There is a scene where at the start her love life is doomed and she is getting passive-agressive texts for Lindsay - Neil says writing the texts was some of the most fun they had - maybe there will be a hope for her love life.

- About more characters:

Neil didn’t want to lose people because they are such a family and wanted Miranda Richardson back but Madame Tracy’s story had really finished and couldn’t think of more for here and her story had ended so beautifully so he wrote a new part for Miranda - she plays Shax, demon that was sent on Earth as the replacement of sacked Crowley.

Anna Maxwell Martin couldn’t make the filming (was in two shows and a stage play when they needed her), so Beelzebub is played by Shelley Conn. She demanded a lot more flies.

Donna Preston plays Mrs. Sandwich, and We’we never quite sure about Mrs. Sandwich’s profession but she’s definitely in Soho.

-When Neil started writing S2:

In August 2019 he told Amazon and BBC at fancy breakfast, ‘This is the plot.’, and they said, ‘Oh, we like that plot.’

In December he and John Finnemore got together and Neil told him the plot and he said, ‘That is a good plot, but how does it end’ Neil said that he doesn’t have ends until he gets there but John needed one so Neil said, ‘How about this?’ and told him the end and John said, ‘That’s a good end.’ And that is the end we’ve got.

He started writing it in the middle of the pandemic Summer 2020, writing with pencil to his notebook the first scene which is the first scene.

- Neil what will S2 be about:

Six episodes, each about 45 minutes.

There are some love stories in it.

We will learn a lot about Jane Austen we didn’t know before.

There is a lot more Heaven, a lot more Hell.

- What could be more eras for Aziraphale and Crowley

Douglas: 19th century Scotland, Neil: Edinburgh perhaps around 1827?, Douglas: That would be good, can you write that?, Neil: Oddly enough, episode 3 will take us to a little stint of body snatching in the era. For me it would be like 1941 and we’d go back to those Nazis. Douglas: That would be good and what about something biblical as well, could we do something? Neil: Bible’s good. Yeah back to biblical times, that would be really fun, we could do one of those in episode 2. (they are obviously talking about minisodes :))

- There was a clip from the show but only sound for those watching the stream.

Listen here.

Description from twitter ‘Crowley rushes into the bookshop holding plants and it’s so cute’.

This pic should be from it :)

- Season 2 Release Date: Summer 2023

- At the end on the zoom dropped not on Michael but also David and Jon Hamm! :)

Watch here :), their banter was written by Neil, Staged-style.

Michael and David found out that there’s going to be S2 probably at the same time from Neil. There was always sort of hope after the end of S1 that there might be more story to tell. Jon found out about it from Neil during press for S1 as potentiality and then during covid Neil said an idea to Jon that we would start by walking down the street in Soho completely nude and he send me the beggining of the scene where Gabriel does not recogni- and the rest is deliberately cut with ‘Lost connection’, to the nude part Neil said, I knew that if he said yes to that he’d say yes to anything and then he says it is not actually there.

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rise-deepseamonster · 15 days

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I don't think any season will affect me as deeply as Bridgerton S2.

Ever experience that Anthony and Kate have with their family is a direct reflection of an older sibling's struggles to keep everyone together with only one parent half present, taking on the major part of the responsibility as the head of the house.

Starting with the scene where Edmund dies in Anthony and Violet's arms. It's a clear start of the divide between Anthony and his siblings in terms of being classified as "children". Violet tells him to keep the "other children" from not witnessing what he just witnessed, him having to take charge while he watches his only remaining parent fall apart in despair and anguish. Him begging her to get more involved with the rest of his siblings because he is so scared he is going to mess things up, so scared because he is not his mother and he is not his father. I wonder how many dinners he sat with the rest of his siblings after his mother refused to eat with them and made small talk with his siblings or sat in awkward silence. I wonder how long it took for him to master the small talk and eventually learn everything his siblings were up to so that he can talk to them about it and work in the shadows to make things better (like he thought he was doing with Benedict and the art school). All while trying to encourage his mother, listening to her wish that the baby had done her the kindness of killing her so that she could be with her husband. Watching his expression during that scene was particularly brutal:

Clearly trying to hang on by a thread as he listens to his mother's suicidal wishes and hope he will have a parent that lives to the next day so he wouldn't have to witness death and wouldn't have to be the only parent left for his siblings, because god help him, I knew he thought he was failing them by just existing and not being his father.

Then the birth of Hyacinth.

When he is asked of an impossible choice between his new family, his to-be sibling and his own mother, his parent, the only person left who is supposed to take care of him. He is not ready to see another parent die in front of him. But he sees his mother begging for her husband, begging for a choice in the matter, driven by pain and grief and sees the doctor calmly ignoring it and asking him. What does he know? He is a child, as his mother says. He wants his father too. He should also be in one of the rooms with his siblings, maybe soothing them and listening to Daphne sing instead of being demanded a choice of lives. He wants his mother to live another day because he cannot fathom the responsibility and the loss he will have to handle otherwise. He wants to demand that they save the mother, you can see it in his eyes but as he sees her begging for the choice, he makes the only one that he hopes his father would approve of.

And thus begins his lifetime of choices that he hopes would be in the interest of everyone else, that he hopes his father would approve of. All while secretly believing that his family hates him for the mistakes he makes as a young, inexperienced man taking all the responsibilities prematurely. And make mistakes he does! Because he lives by a set of rules he hopes the mirage of his dead father might follow, he cannot see that his other siblings are capable and allowed to make their own choices as well (yes yes regency era meant no choices for women but whatever) and constantly made terrible choices for Daphne's personal life in the interest of "protecting" her.

Similar mistakes from Kate. (god what is it about older siblings wanting to do whatever it takes to give what THEY perceive as the best to their siblings?)

She lies and hides and manages Edwina's entire interaction with everyone in the hopes that her sister will be encouraged only into the most wonderful perfect whirlwind of a romance to the best man alive, only to completely neglect and pretty much gaslight her views onto her sister.

This sentiment? Let me just break it down (from my perspective, there can be many different views and any and/or all may be true including that this is just the way Edwina's personality is): Kate wants Edwina to pursue love, to pursue the match of her wants by choosing the best, the brightest, the smartest, the most charming, etc. Because Kate always tells her that thats what she deserves, and its true, she does deserve the best (well, the best for her that is). You see, when you narrow people down to "selecting the best, being the best" etc, you end up making people think that because they are considered the best by the general population (the season's diamond and most eligible bachelor) that they are destined to be together, to make a stunning, powerful match. Edwina is never given a chance to even understand what best truly means for her and what she deserves (and obviously Anthony never thinks about it lol) and is enamored by getting the best of the best. Why? Is it some sort of ego that's fed to her by Kate? The opposite really. It is her own version of trying to show her family that she can excel at things and make them proud. Which is why when she inevitably fails, she somehow thinks she could've done better to please him and treats the whole thing as a test to her as a person, the person her sister had (in Edwina's mind) worked so hard to cultivate and educate to be the best of the best. And in a society where her worth is determined by her husband, if she didn't get the best of the best man, was she really living up to the work that was put into her?

"You have choices"

Ngl, that line is probably something she deep down wishes she had in some recess of her subconscious mind or smtg. It is only because Kate is actually there for Edwina emotionally that Edwina doesn't become a complete people pleaser (though lets be clear, she is definitely one, literally changes like a chameleon to fit everyone's likes. Ain't no one that well liked and Daphne clocked that early on).

I am not saying I hate older siblings and that they are the worst controlling beings on the planet. I am myself an older sibling. Actually I think because I'm an older sibling, it makes me even more horrified when I watch the season because I can clearly see the mistakes they are committing even as I know I would do the same in their case. I understand the pain and desperation that drives them, the self-loathing, the mindset that we must deny ourselves any sort of happiness and pleasure because concentrating on ourselves mean that we are neglecting everyone else. The armor we put on to seem the strongest, the meanest, the one who would throw the first punch after an insult flung at their family, the last one to step down from a fight all for our family, all in the name of family.

These two? They would lay down their lives for their siblings. If asked, they would sacrifice themselves with dark magic so that their siblings would never know the pain of a pin prick. Because they know pain and they never want their siblings to feel it. And so they control and manage and make sure everything goes the way they need it to, the way, the only way that their family can be safe and happy. All while they deny themselves the same painless happiness.

Anthony literally refused to fall in love so that he would never have to put his siblings through the kind of pain he went through as he saw his mother sit numbly for months after his father's death, barely existing through everyday. Kate barely viewed herself as Lady Sharma's daughter because she put both her and Edwina on such a high pedestal and stood guard at the bottom of it.

Both of them, oldest siblings resigning and steeling themselves and reassuring themselves that this is what they deserve, this is the price to be paid for the happiness of their family. Then resigning themselves to a life of loneliness, all while their family looks on at them with the greatest pity because they cannot understand for the life of them why their protectors, their loved ones, their older brother/sister would put themselves through things that obviously made them miserable.

And as it does, their pity will turn to frustration and if unchecked, to resentment or bitterness. Secrets and lies and controlling behaviors always come with a cost, no matter the intention. But not only that; What most oldest siblings forget is that everyone needs a role model to look up to and usually people find it in their siblings, their parents or someone else in the family that they know well. With the walls you've erected, they barely know you at all. And what you do display is only misery and burden. I cannot stress how much it pains them to see that in the people they love and how much it affects them.

So anyway, to older siblings out there. Prioritize yourselves. It is literally better for your siblings if you do. Love them, protect them but also teach them through example to make their own choices in life and be stable and happy yourself.

Also do you think he wanted to scream during this scene? Because personally I would've told her "OFC. OFC lilacs were his favorite. Because I was there when he died picking lilac/violet flowers for his wife named Violet, YEAH I fucking KNEW."

His mother telling him that she knew what he wanted and that he wanted love was probably the final testament to how little his family knew him. He was probably incredulous at the thought of his family wanting him to find love. Why tf would they think he wants that??

Why would he want love when it was the very same thing that ruined his mother after his father's death? The same thing that had left her so broken and numb that he had to be awake and pick up the pieces of his family as he could not afford to do the same.

The pain that parents inflict through their own grief/rage etc are things that really leave a lasting impact on the kids huh?

Also yes, I did cry when Lady Sharma told Kate that she always viewed her as a daughter and she was never an outsider to the family because she WAS family, man that shit had me bawling. Nothing ever prepares me for the loneliness of dealing with the consequences of "doing what you think is best" when it comes to other's lives.

Sorry for how all over the place this rant is. Tell me if I missed anything and what all older sibling behavior yall do and how called out this shit made u feel.

#absolutely called out by this season #I went and immediately started talking to my sister more and telling her about my hopes and dreams for myself and asking about hers #what she wants and how she wants to do it and how to help her figure out what she wants #this shit called me out big time #bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #kathani sharma #kathani bridgerton #kathani and anthony #colin bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton s3 #bridgerton netflix #penelope featherington #kanthony #polin

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nualaofthefaerie · 2 months

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Sandman s2, confirmed news!

I see a lot of speculation on the topic, so as someone who has closely followed and confirmed information, I am comprising this thread of confirmed Season 2 leaks that I will update regularly.

This is inspired by @orionsangel86 rant, and I have no real following here for people to listen to me, but I hope this will allow the fandom to discover me as a Sandman creator.

All information has been thoroughly confirmed, and some of it was found by me. I will try to keep the chronological order:

1. Ruairi O'Connor is our Orpheus

Well...I don't have to explain, the man's face is on there, plus Melissanthi Mahut follows him on Instagram

2. Esme Creed Miles is our Delirium

Back in August, we suspected Esme Creed Miles had joined the cast of the Sandman as our Delirium when Lourdes Faberes posted this picture with this caption:

Soon after the entire cast followed Esme and since then have interacted and been in the same place multiple times including last week when Donna and Mason were filming:

3. Barry Soloane is our Destruction

His wife spoiled it, and he has it on top of his acting credits. He is followed by all of the Endless and Neil on Instagram, and they interact regularly.

4. Midsummer Night's dream is filmed/being filmed

As you can see from this leaked call sheet from the same day, the scenes included elves and fairies + the caravan + the people who asked what was filmed on their walk basically confirms Midsummer Night's Dream

5. Wanda and Ruby's characters are being merged and are being played by Indya Moore

We have no further information on the changing of storylines.

+ a lot of minor roles have been confirmed as well but those are of no vitality.

6. Names of six of the supposed 12 episodes have leaked

(In no particular order)

"Season of Mists"

"Brief Lives"

"Family Blood"

"The Song of Orpheus"

"The Ruler of Hell"

"More Devils Than Vast Hell Can Hold"

Source is WhatsOnNetflix (reliable source)

!!The next ones are speculations since we cannot confirm them but it is quite likely as timelines fit:

1. Ferdinand Kingsley has filmed the Season of Mists dream sequence

The only clue we have of that, is that he maintained a hairstyle similar to Hob's with a longer beard for a while and has recently chopped it all off.

2. Filming of "Season of Mists" in Brighton Pavillion on the 20th of February

According to eyewitnesses, the production was humongous, the extras and actors were dressed in gothic/mythical/monster/horror attire, which excludes the location from being Destiny's garden or have anything to do with the Family dinner, leaving Season of Mists as the most plausible conclusion

3. On-site location filming on Castle Arce in the week of March 15th

The Castle Arce area has lots of mazey parts, dare I say Destiny's garden, but that is pure speculation. (I just found these so I have not had the time to decipher them properly).

3. Destiny will be POC

I sincerely hope that to be true. The only semi-clue we have that suggests this might be true is the picture from Lourdes (above with Esme) and the fact that Adrian Lester is in the picture, but he is not part of the cast or seen in leaks anywhere. We hope for news soon.

That's it, folks.

Those are all leaks compiled in a comprehensive list to avoid further speculation. I will be updating the list accordingly and if anyone has questions, feel free to send them my way, I feel confident in all the ones that we have confirmed to be true.

Love,

#the sandman #delirium #delirium of the endless #destruction #destruction of the endless #wanda #wanda sandman #hob gadling #morpheus #dream of the endless #sandman #sandman season 2 #season 2 #orpheus #spoilers #sandman netflix #the sandman netflix

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a-girl-in-neverland · 1 month

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Since Bridgerton S3 is coming in a few weeks it's a great time for venting my thoughts on the show

I think so far Shonda has made a great job on the show but there has been some faults: they could have changed that situation with Daphne and Simon (you know which one), they could have given Kanthony more attention and also could have made Edwina way less oblivious and a better sister (rewatching S2 has been a torture)

BUT I want to vent about the secondary plotlines, because WHEN will they (Shonda and the writers) understand that the show would be SOOOOO much better if they focused on the family with the occasional minor plotline involving other characters and NOT the other way around???????

Don't get me wrong, I love Lady Danbury, Queen Charlotte (she's grown on me after QC), Madame Delacroix, for instance. But the Mondrich's??? Why are they still around???

They were great on S1, for both the purpose of friends of the Duke and the lord featherington plotline. Keeping them for S2 i thought was a stretch. But for S3??? I simply don't see the point

The show would benefit so much from keeping the Bridgertons the main secondary plotlines. I do not care how but i would 100% prefer to see the family interactions

Think about it: it would give the ones we already know room to grow and evolve (Daphne and Anthony) and also give oportunity for get to know others (Francesca, Hyacinth and Gregory)

I was daydreaming about a few headcanons/possibilities

• Daphne being involved in Francesca's first season

• Anthony healing from the burden of being parentified so early and getting to be just a sibling

• Anthony and Kate as a role model/couple for the youngsters

• Eloise and Benedict (i just love every scene just the two of them)

• Daphne, Eloise and Francesca just being sisters together (ABC is already a solidified trio but DEF could be a good combination)

• Gregory and Hyacinth causing chaos

• ABC being big brothers to Gregory (specially Benedict and Colin could interact more with him)

• Daphne being the one to give Francesca and Eloise "the talk" so they are not as naive as she was

• both Kanthony and Daphne & Simon evolving in their marriages, facing challenges and showing more than just "happily ever after"

• Francesca and John being close to the family (and with that, the whole family can grieve him and not just Francesca)

• Kate and Simon being close with the others siblings (i get that Rege isn't coming back, but i would be nice tho)

If you read this far, i hope you have an amazing week, i wish you love and happiness and thanks for letting me vent <3

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hugmekenobi · 14 days

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S3: The Bad Batch (8)

Chapter Eight: Bad Territory

Gif by @rebekadjarin

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: The group is divided, each side with a mission of their own to follow

Masterlist for S1 and S2

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, swearing, angst, fluff, limited (y/n), Crosshair feeling left out, me making up how the Force can work/be used, more dancing around M-count things, and me making up a rough timeline

Word Count: 5.2K

Author's notes: Not gonna lie, I struggled a lot with this one for a variety of reasons but I hope people still like it! Thank you @burningfieldof-clover for your much needed and valued assistance during this!

Pabu

Omega sat on the steps of the Marauder anxiously tapping her boot as she stared at her commlink.

“You know staring at your comm won’t make Echo contact you any faster.” Crosshair told her as he approached.

Omega got to her feet with a sigh. “He and Rex lost most of their squad in that attack. All because the Empire was after me and (Y/N). I have to do something to help them.”

“You are. Follow (Y/N)’s example and keep staying away.” Crosshair said.

“Wow, I’ve never been used as a positive example before.”

Omega turned to see you and Hunter standing in the doorway of the Marauder.

“Crosshair’s right. We need to know more about why Hemlock’s after you and what his M-count experiments mean.” Hunter added. “Until then, you both have to lay low.” He said with a firm look at the two of you.

Hey, Omega is the priority here, not me.

“Don’t start with that.” Hunter chastised. “It’s a high chance that Hemlock being after Omega means he’s after you too, especially if M-counts are involved somehow.”

We don’t know that he’s after me specifically, I’ve always just had issues with any Imperial official. I’m more of a general Imperial threat. Me getting captured, I could wind up anywhere.

“That’s a very reassuring thought, thank you.” Hunter muttered sarcastically.

Besides, even when I handed myself in, I wasn’t sent to Tantiss so I might not even be on his radar since he seems to be looking for clones and not Jedi to test on. Omega is the one we know for sure that Hemlock is after.

“Hey! Incoming transmission. From Phee!” Wrecker came to tell the rest of you.

To be continued. You placed a chaste and pacifying kiss to his lips before you headed towards the cockpit.

“No, not to be continued, you’re laying low the same way Omega is!” Hunter called to your retreating figure before he too headed back in.

“They were arguing, and I didn’t hear a single word she said?” Crosshair as the two of you walked back inside.

“Hmm?” Omega stopped patting Batcher and then understood his question. “Oh that! You mean she hasn’t tried it with you yet?” Omega asked curiously. She’d honestly barely noticed the interaction; she was so used to moments like that now.

“Tried what?” Crosshair asked.

“It’s a Jedi communication thing.” Omega tried to explain but that was really all she could provide. “I don’t quite understand how it works but she does it with the rest of us. I’m sure if you asked her, she’d be able to do it to you too.”

“Right.” Crosshair said hesitantly, unsure as to what he could’ve done to make you think you couldn’t trust him with that. But he pushed that to the back of his mind for now before inquiring, “And Phee?”

“She’s a liberator of ancient wonders.” Omega said with an appropriate amount of showmanship.

Crosshair just stared at her unamused and not playing into the mystery she was trying to create.

“Pirate. She’s a pirate.” Omega admitted with a sigh.

How you lot had managed to make allies with a pirate was something he found himself wishing he’d been there to witness.

Wrecker put the transmission through.

“Hey Phee.” Omega said warmly.

“Hey kid.” Phee replied.

“What do you got for us?” Hunter asked.

“I’ve been asking around about this M-count thing, which hasn’t been easy, by the way. Tech’s brain was the data bank, not mine.”

The grief you were in constant battle with asked for another way in, but you let is wash over you as Phee continued to speak.

“But I came through. As always.”

“And what did you find out?” You asked.

“Word is, certain class one bounty hunters have been retrieving M-count target for the Empire.”

Again, you ruminated in your thoughts over this. Omega couldn’t have a high M-count, not in the way the Empire seemed to want, you’d know if she did. And it was all to do with clones, so it had to be something about their DNA specifically. “A high M-count signifies Force user potential. But that’s not got anything to do with you.” You added hastily as you saw Omega’s look of excitement. “So, why else would they need her if she has one?” You asked Phee.

“Don’t know. You’re better off asking a bounty hunter.” Phee replied.

“We have run into a few.” Hunter revealed.

“What about Fennec?” Omega suggested.

“Who?” Crosshair asked.

“Fennec Shand.” You said, your feelings about her made very clear by the distaste in your voice. “She was hired by Kaminoans to abduct Omega. Tried to pick me up along the way.”

“She might know something.” Omega said.

“She’s dangerous, but it might be our only option.” Hunter agreed and she definitely a better option compared to Cad Bane.

“I can probably track Fennec down for you.” Phee said. “But she’s not gonna hand over that information for free.”

“Naturally.” You and Crosshair said in the same wry tone.

But as he said that you, Hunter, and Omega noticed the way his hand began to tremor despite Crosshair’s efforts to stop and hide it.

“I gotta split. I’ll get back to you.” With that, Phee ended the transmission.

“Yeah, I don’t like it.” Wrecker said nervously to Hunter. “We can’t trust Fennec. Not around those two.”

“Agreed. You and I will go alone.”

“But-” Omega protested.

“Hold on-” You began to argue.

“This isn’t a debate.” Hunter said definitively. “Stay on Pabu and stay out of trouble. All of you.” He said to the three of you.

“Fine by me.” Crosshair drawled before he left the ship.

Hunter addressed the two of you once he’d gone, concern in his voice. “See if you can convince him to get his hand looked at. Ignoring it won’t make the problem go away.”

You walked back to the ship as you saw Hunter and Wrecker getting ready to depart.

“I already told you no.” Hunter said as you stood on the bottom of the door staircase.

“Hunter-”

“You and Fennec have a score to settle and I’m not going to tempt her with it. What we need to know is more important than that.”

“I know that but she’s dangerous and I don’t see how having someone else there to help would be such a bad idea.” You disputed.

Hunter went for another tact, “Did you hear Phee say the phrase ‘high M-count targets?’ ”

You ground out a sigh, “Yes.”

“And don’t you have one?”

“Yes, but I-”

“Did you hear that bounty hunters are being used to retrieve them?”

You shot him an exasperated look. “Yes.”

“Do you see where I’m going with this?”

You exhaled a defeated breath. “Yes.” You begrudgingly acknowledged.

“Good.” He came down a couple steps and placed both hands on your shoulders as he kissed your forehead. “We’ll be careful.”

“Yeah, you better.” You threatened but with a caring smile on your face. “I’ll see you soon.” You hopped off the stairs and watched the ship take off.

You rejoined Omega and Crosshair who were standing by the Wheeping Maya tree. “Sooo, what do we want to do today? Walk around, go for a boat ride, chill by the beach and talk about our feelings?” You broached casually. You couldn’t get away with making him sit down and push him into doing something about his hand- Omega had the better shot of using an approach like that. What you were doing fit the rhythm you and Crosshair had before everything in the galaxy went to shit.

Crosshair ignored your suggestions. “You can help me train.” He said as he grabbed his rifle.

Omega glanced up at you to see if you wanted to say anything yet, but you only shook your head as you both followed him down to the beach cove.

“How’d you want to handle this?” Omega asked as Crosshair started prepping his scope.

I’ll open the door for you. Give us a few minutes.

“Target practice or hand-to-hand?” You asked as you reached him.

“Target.” Crosshair with a hard stare at you, warning you against any further unrelated conversation.

“I’m here to help as you requested.” You raised your hands in surrender, “I only ask because the most recent time you tried hand-to-hand; you got your ass handed to you.” You taunted as you made your way to your position and removing your lightsaber from your belt. “Now remember, the goal is to aim for me which finding the motivation for shouldn’t be too difficult.” Omega, when you hear the blaster fire stop, you’re up.

You weren’t facing him when you sensed the shot that was being aimed for the middle of your back. You ignited your lightsaber and blocked it on the half turn. “Hey, that was good!” You called back. “More like that and I might actually have to try!” You got into your stance and waited.

Crosshair heaved a sigh as he set himself again.

You disengaged your blade to signal that it was time to stop, and you lightly jogged over to where Crosshair was waiting. “Twenty shots, but only eleven I had to actually dodge or block… you really gotta sort that out, it’s not like you.”

Crosshair glared at you, “I forgot how annoying you were to train with.”

“Oh, I’m just the warmup.” You said with a knowing grin. “She’s the real challenge.” You nodded past his shoulder.

Crosshair followed your eyes, and he gulped as he saw Omega walking towards with gritty determination on her face. He already knew exactly how this was going to go.

Finding Fennec Shand hadn’t been very difficult, the hardest part now was getting her help without giving too much away.

“So, what kind of information can I help you with?” She asked, relaxing into the booth but she saw the wary look the two clones shared with each other. “See, the way this works is you tell me what intel or target you’re after, and I give you a price. So stop wasting my time.”

“We hear the Empire has a bounty out for M-count targets.” Hunter replied tentatively.

Fennec adjusted her posture. “Why do you wanna know about that? You trying to find your girl?” She looked at the helmeted clone who visibly tensed at her words. She sipped her drink. “She’s been quite the busy Jedi, nice price on her head too.”

“The why is our business.” Hunter said stiffly.

Fennec let the evasion slide and shrugged as she lounged back once more. “I haven’t done one of those jobs myself, but… I might know someone who has.”

“Can you put us in touch with them?” Hunter requested.

“Now that will definitely cost you.”

“How much?”

“More than you’ve got. But we might be able to work something out.” She took another gulp of her drink. “I’ve read your files from before.” She addressed the bigger clone, “You’re good with demolitions and ordnance, right?”

“Ha! ‘Good’? I’m the best.” Wrecker boasted proudly.

“And you’re the tracker.” Fennec said to the other one.

“What’s your point?” Hunter questioned warily.

“There’s a bounty I’ve been trying to bring in. Worth a lot. But he’s been hard to catch without a crew.”

“Oh, so you want us to work with you?” Wrecker sussed out.

“No. You’ll be working for me.” Fennec corrected. “You follow through, I’ll get you what you want to know.”

Hunter barely debated the situation in his head. Getting the information was all that mattered. “Deal.”

Fennec nodded and grabbed her stuff. “We’ll use my ship. And so we’re clear… I keep the payment on the bounty. All of it.”

Omega sat next to Crosshair whilst you crouched by Batcher’s side, absentmindedly petting the hound as AZ finished scanning Crosshair’s hand.

“How does your hand feel now?” AZ inquired.

“The same.” Crosshair grunted dejectedly as he massaged it with his good hand.

“Unfortunately, it may never heal 100%.”

“There’s nothing else you can do?” Omega appealed.

“I have exhausted all the medical treatment options. Perhaps the issue is not something physical.” AZ theorised.

“You think it’s in my head?” Crosshair hissed angrily.

“If you were to elaborate more on the experimentation you were subjected to, I could determine the cause.”

“Forget it.” Crosshair snapped as he shoved past the droid.

You jumped to your feet attempted to catch his arm, but he shrugged you off.

“Crosshair?” Omega called out to him as he left but he didn’t look back.

“If he won’t talk about it, I’m not sure how else we can help him.” You pondered anxiously.

“I have another idea.” Omega said. “But you need to be there too.”

“We’re working for her now? We don’t even trust her.” Wrecker whispered as he and Hunter stood in the back of Fennec’s ship. It wasn’t like Hunter to not think through the dangers of taking a job like this on.

“What choice do we have? We need that information. Just be ready for anything.” As soon as Hunter said that the door slid open, and Fennec appeared.

“We made a deal. I’m going to keep it as long as you hold up your end.” Fennec reminded the clones.

“Wanna tell us who it is we’re going after?” Hunter asked.

Fennec brought out the puck and activated the image. “Sylar Saris. ‘The Slayer od Ordo Eris’. One of the slipperiest marks around. Got a tip on his location.”

“Well, what did he do?” Wrecker asked.

“Hmm. Got greedy. Took out a couple top bosses for the Haxion Brood and escaped with a cache of credits. Powerful people want him found. The other hunters that went after him? Never came back.” She waited half a second before continuing, “Sylar knows the planet like the back of his claw. But eventually, everyone’s luck runs out.” Fennec turned off the puck as she finished the brief and retreated to the pilot seat.

You watched the line of fruit on the rock ahead as Crosshair raised his rifle, but his hand was still trembling, so his shot skimmed the top of the fruit he had been aiming for. You had thought a degree of normalcy was what he needed but now it was time for both you and Omega to push him- even a little bit. “That was close.” You said encouragingly.

“Close doesn’t count. It’s either a hit or miss.” Crosshair replied sharply.

“You’re still more capable than most.” Omega said with a soothing touch of his arm.

Crosshair only sighed and sat with his back against the rock. “That’s not good enough for a sniper.”

You and Omega both hopped up on the rock.

“Have you ever considered that AZ might be right?” You proposed slowly, your voice kind and gentle. You knew how hard accepting help with something like this could be and it couldn’t be rushed into.

“Whatever they did to you on Tantiss could’ve affected you more than you realise.” Omega backed up the suggestion in a similar tone.

“No. No, no. It’s not in my head.” Crosshair disagreed.

“Just because there’s nothing AZ can do, doesn’t mean your hand can’t get better.” Omega said as she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe you’re the one who has to fix it.”

Crosshair considered it. “How?”

“I’m glad you asked.”

Crosshair glanced over at you to see a familiar scheming smile on your face but there was a kindness to your eyes that told him you weren’t messing around with this. “I’m not gonna like it, am I?”

You and Omega shared a smile, “You don’t like anything.” You two said in unison as you left the rock.

“True.” Crosshair conceded with a sigh as he got to his feet.

The light was all but gone and between the toxic swamp air, the mines in the river, and the gators that attacked them, it had already been a trying journey and things weren’t getting much better since Hunter couldn’t get a proper read on the current anymore.

“Well, tracker? Which direction?” Fennec asked as she slowly steered the hired boat.

“The currents are too calm to tell.” Hunter admitted reluctantly.

“Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you guys aren’t cut out for this job.” She said irritably.

“Oh. You think you could do better without us?” Wrecker challenged.

“I wouldn’t be doing any worse.”

“Well, (Y/N) got the best of you and even Omega managed to get away.”

“Apparently, they both got away from you too.” She watched as that clearly hit a mark with both of them. “So what happened? I know what your girl’s been up to, tracker, but what went down for her to get to that? And how’d you lose the kid?”

“What’s it to you?” Hunter deflected coldly as he pulled out his macro’s and searched ahead for any sign of Sylar’s safehouse.

“Just seems odd. You’re both willing to work for me, considering our past. That information must really be important to you.”

Hunter said nothing. He feared that anything he would say would give something more away.

“And just so you know, I didn’t lose Omega. I let her go when the bounty was called off.” Fennec informed them.

“By who?” Hunter asked, turning to look at her.

“The client. They thought Omega would be safer with you guys. Guess they were wrong about that.” She glanced between them both. “And your Jedi wasn’t worth the trouble since there wasn’t a set bounty on her at the time. Though, if I saw her again, with the price on her head that might change.” Fennec couldn’t help but goad. She scoffed as she saw the helmeted glare from the tracker.

“I guess you’ll work for anybody as long as you get paid.” Wrecker said with a hint of disgust.

“Good guys, bad guys. Their money is all the same.” Fennec said breezily.

“Well, money’s not everything.” Hunter said.

“That’s cause you don’t have any.”

Hunter couldn’t respond to that because there was nothing to argue against. He simply brought his binoculars back and scanned the water. “Someone came through here. Veer starboard up ahead.”

‘Slippery mark’ had been right. They’d been able to find his hideout but actually subduing Sylar had proven a far more difficult feat than anticipated.

In the end, it had taken a team effort from the three of them to knock out the insectoid and even then, it had taken four stun blasts to successfully managed it.

Wrecker released a breathless groan as he stepped over the target. “You were right to bring us along.”

“I’m always right. Grab him and let’s go.” Fennec instructed.

“If this is a Jedi technique, how is this going to help me?” Crosshair asked dubiously as he saw you and Omega sit cross-legged with your hands on your knees on a rock facing out to the sea, the orange sunset giving the water a warm purple hue.

“One, it’s not solely a Jedi technique because, as you can see, Omega does it.” You pointed out.

“But-”

“Two, I’m also out of practice so we can both learn together. Come and sit down.” You encouraged, patting the space between you and Omega.

Crosshair reluctantly mirrored both your positions. “So, this technique…”

“Mediation.” Omega reminded him. “It’ll help you heal. Not just your hand, but your mind too.”

“I doubt that.” Crosshair tried to follow the example of you two, but he couldn’t quiet his mind and his hand had started to shake again. He inhaled sharply as he felt Omega take a hold of it and turn it so that his palm was facing up.

You closed your own eyes and spoke calmly. “You need to breathe. Take slow, deep breaths and find your centre. Focus on yourself and what you’re feeling and accept it. Let it pass through you and don’t run away from it.” You guided him as you followed your own advice and found yourself becoming one with the living Force around you.

“And don’t compare yourself to her. It works slightly differently.” Omega told him.

Crosshair glanced at you from the corner of his eye to already see that you were completely at peace, and it looked like nothing could ever bring you out of it. “Where did you learn this? Did she teach you?” He asked Omega.

Omega kept her eyes shut as she replied, “No, she hadn’t done it until after I picked it up from my friend Gungi, and the other Wookies on Kashyyyk. But she helped me with it thereafter. I think she needed that moment again too.”

“You’ve been to Kashyyyk?”

“Uh huh.” Omega took another deep inhale and exhale. “You’ve missed a lot.”

“I know.” Crosshair realised.

“Now, close your eyes and focus.” Omega repeated.

Crosshair did as you both suggested and let go.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Fennec said as the clone departed her ship.

“Hang on.” Hunter turned on his heels. “You promised us information.”

“I didn’t say I had it on me, but I’ll get it. Ater I deliver Sylar to my client.”

“That’s not what we agreed on.” Hunter growled.

“You can either fight me or trust me. Take your pick.”

Hunter shared a look with Wrecker but decided it wasn’t worth the risk.

“Good choice.” Fennec before she stepped into her ship and brought the ramp up.

Hunter and Wrecker could only watch her ship leave the station hangar. Having to trust the word of a bounty hunter was not the ideal situation they wanted to be or leave in.

Fennec put through the transmission and addressed the hologram.“I just finished a job with some clones. They were asking about the Empire’s M-count bounties. What can you tell me?” She digested the muffled chatter that came in response. “I’m sure you can find them easily enough. I’ll send you what I have.”

“(Y/N)? (Y/N), we’ve finished.” Omega shook your shoulder. “Come back.”

You jolted back to the current moment. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. Just wanted to tell you that Wrecker and Hunter are back.” Omega said as she stood back up. “How was it this time?” She asked you.

You exhaled deeply. “Better but I could still feel my focus drifting more than it used to.” Plus, no matter how often you trained in it, you had never gotten to see your master again and you were beginning to think it had been a one-time deal. If what you needed to talk to him again was to reach a certain level of emotional turmoil, you wouldn’t want to get to that place again. “How was it for you?”

“It was good.” She replied cheerily before she set off to meet up with Hunter and Wrecker, Batcher close at her heels.

“How’d it go?” You asked Crosshair as you got to your feet.

“Eh, I still don’t get it.” Crosshair grunted in reply.

You smiled understandingly at him. “It gets easier.”

“I know, I’ll keep trying.” He took a step in the direction Omega had gone but your voice stopped him.

“I’m not talking about the meditation.” You said softly as you grabbed his shoulder to turn him to face you. “I’m talking about dealing with whatever it was that happened to you.”

Crosshair cast his eyes to the ground. “I can’t tal-”

“Believe me, I understand how hard it can be to recount experiences like that, so I don’t expect you to, not any time soon. The second you wanted to; I would be there but that’s not what I’m saying right now.” You reassured him.

Crosshair regarded you carefully. “Then- then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that whatever you’re feeling, whatever memories in your head that are so fresh it feels like they’ll haunt you forever, it’s okay to feel them. And, while they may never go away entirely, it does get easier.” You looked at him with warm sincerity. “Just don’t bury them because that’s when they’ll eat you alive.”

Crosshair’s eyes widened slightly at your words as he recognised the place you were coming from, and he was grateful for them.

“Or not dealing with them can lead to reckless and damaging decisions that get your face slapped on every Imperial noticeboard across the Outer Rim. Take your pick.” You joked to lighten the mood again.

Crosshair managed a smile at that.

You patted his shoulder. “I meant what I said though, it gets better. We’re all here for you.” You started to walk away to see Hunter and Wrecker to find out what information they got from Fennec.

“Omega mentioned a Jedi communication thing you do?” Crosshair said to your back.

“Yeah, I do it with all of them.” You called back over your shoulder.

“All?”

“Uh huh.” You said casually before you stopped in your tracks as you realised what he was getting at. You swivelled around again, “Oh! Yeah! I can do that to you whenever you want!”

“But you haven’t.” Crosshair countered as he walked over to you.

You shrugged. “You said you needed time to adjust, and I didn’t want to freak you out.” You replied simply. “I wasn’t conspiring to keep it from you, I just didn’t want to assume anything.”

“If you still don’t trust me, I-”

You rolled your eyes. “Would you shut up; I just said it was because I thought you needed more time. Do you want me to do it with you too?”

Crosshair shifted on his feet. He didn’t like the position he suddenly found himself in, it felt rather pathetic.

“It’s a simple yes or no, come on, we have places to be.”

“I’m sure Hunter can last ten minutes without your mouth attached to his.”

“Okay, see now you’re just pissing me off.” You tossed your hands in the air and went to turn away.

“Yes.” Crosshair grumbled. He’d already missed out on so much and he didn’t want this to be yet another thing.

“That wasn’t too hard, was it?” You drolled. “Give me your hands.”

“Why?” Crosshair asked suspiciously.

“Because I’m actually in love with you.” You jibed flatly as you shot him a look of exasperation.

Crosshair rolled his eyes at you. “Gross.”

“Sometimes it helps when it’s a first connection, especially when I haven’t been around someone for quite a while.” You explained. You held yours out and waited expectantly.

Crosshair hesitantly complied- both hands steady this time- and watched you intriguingly.

“Fair warning, it can feel a bit weird.” You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You reached into his Force signature, and it was what you expected. It was barbed and you could feel a resistance- a wall- to it. But there was also vulnerability, a longing for growth and acceptance, that wanted to let you in and that was what you appealed to. When you felt that the connection was there, you opened your eyes and looked at him. Now, can we go see your brothers please?

“Okay, that’s really fucking weird.” Crosshair said as you let go of his hands.

Hey, you asked. You grinned at him before the two of you officially set off to go meet the ship.

One week later

“Any word?” Omega asked as she and Crosshair stepped into the Marauder. They’d been mediating by the Maya tree and decided to come check in. The news that Fennec didn’t have any immediate information to offer had been disappointing and each day that went by without any communication only let that disappointment grow.

“Nothing.” Wrecker groused.

“Fennec never told us how long she’d take.” Hunter admitted before he noticed you weren’t with them. “Where’s-”

“Don’t know. We thought she was with you.” Crosshair said as he placed a toothpick in his mouth.

“You’ve not seen her all day?” Hunter double-checked. He’d seen you when you’d woken up but then you’d left, and he and Wrecker had been on the ship for most of the day.

“No, we haven’t. Batcher must be with her too.” Omega guessed since the hound hadn’t been with them and wasn’t anywhere on the ship.

Hunter mulled this over in his head. This isolation you were now putting yourself in since you’d heard the news about Fennec’s lack of information was beginning to become a real habit.

“Three seconds. That’s all it took for you to decide to go find her.” Crosshair teased, earning a snicker from Wrecker in the process.

“Shut up.” Hunter mumbled as he left the ship.

You had been aimlessly wandering the shoreline, occasionally chucking a stick Batcher had found for her to chase.

The Empire,

Omega,

M-count,

Jedi,

Clones,

The Empire,

Omega,

M-count,

Jedi,

Clones…

You ran that list over and over again in your head but couldn’t see the connection. The Jedi were dead and hated by the Empire- what could they need that M-count for? Omega wasn’t Force sensitive and neither were any other clones but that was Hemlock’s main test subject choice. So, what was it about an M-count in clone genetics that mattered so much? What were you overlooking? A demanding bark pulled you out your thoughts and you saw Batcher had dropped the stick at your feet and was waiting expectantly.

“Tell me, Batcher, what am I missing?” You crouched down and held the sides of her face in your palms and smiled at the hound. “Tell me, girl!” You laughed as she let out an affectionate whine and licked your cheek.

“You know, it might help to share your theories with someone who can actually talk back?”

“Uh oh, the tracker found me.” You said as you scratched her jaw before you glanced past her with an affectionate look to the clone walking towards you. “And how’d do you know she doesn’t?” You disputed light-heartedly as you stood up taller.

“You’re right, I don’t.” Hunter played into the joke as he reached you before he turned more serious. “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

“Nothing.” You said dismissively.

Hunter just stared at you with a knowing look on his face. “Don’t do that, don’t shut me out. You’re not keeping to yourself for no reason.”

You remembered your own advice to Crosshair and swallowed tightly. “It’s right in front of my face, Hunter. I should know why this M-count matters for Omega but it’s not clicking and it’s driving me insane!” You rubbed a hand across your tired face. “I don’t know what I’m not seeing.” You confessed as you hung your head with a defeated breath.

Hunter placed his hands on your upper arms and brought his eyes to your level. “If it were obvious, we’d know it already.” He said as he rubbed his thumbs comfortingly up and down your arms. “You don’t need to keep working through this alone.”

“I just feel so useless. I should be able to figure this out!” You said with a frustrated huff.

“I know, it’s hard to just wait it out, but Fennec will come through. Until then, we just have to be patient.” Hunter said as he put his arm around your waist as the two of you and Batcher headed back to rendezvous with the others. “Jedi are meant to be good at that, right?”

“Would it shock you to know that I struggled with that?” You remarked satirically as you mirrored his actions.

Hunter chuckled. “Not in the slightest.”

Next Chapter>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @arctrooper69, @notgonnaedit, @dominoeffectsworld, @andreaaxy, @nightmonkeysstuff @superbookishhufflepuff

#the bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch s3 #hunter x reader #hunter x femalejedi!reader #hunter x fem!reader #hunter x female!reader #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #hunter tbb #hunter the bad batch #the bad batch hunter x you #hunter x y/n #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars #friends to lovers #fluff #angst

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worrynoodle · 29 days

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Just came across an interview of NG where he said a lot of people asked for a kiss to be in s2 and he said "I can give you what you want but you won't want it."

See this is the kind of stuff that stresses me out. I really hope that he doesn't do something like this again. Like, taking it out on all of us who actually know how to keep Fandom for the fans and not cross his boundaries that he has repeated over and over.

Don't sent him stuff. Not theories, not confirmation/denial questions, not fics or art, not wants and demands.

That stuff is for US to talk about with each other. It's nice that he is here on the platform and interacts with his fans but I feel a lot of them take advantage of him being on a platform like this. Fandom is not for the creators it's for the FANS that's why it's called FANdom.

If we want to see another kiss, more romance, physical affection, or a sex scene that is for us to talk about. That's not for us to demand of him in his asks. I know some of you are younger and want to be silly about it, but please try to be grown up and respect the authors boundaries. It's just common decency.

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale x crowley #goodomens #good omens fandom #fandom is for fans #fan fiction is for fans #good omens art #good omens fan theory #good omens fan fiction #lou rants

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averytirednerd · 4 months

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About Episodes 7 and 8...MASSIVE SPOILERS!!

Initial thoughts (because if I talk about EVERYTHING right now you'll be here for at least half an hour)...

WHAT THE HELL?!

I mean I loved getting to watch the season finale, don't get me wrong. But I have just as many grievances as things I loved about it and also SO MUCH happened?!?!?!

Charlie: Loved getting to see her be all demon-y, I've been waiting all season. Also loved her and the cannibals (especially Rosie!!!). So glad she got to work w/ Luci to protect the hotel <333 She and Vaggie are adorable too.

Vaggie: I really enjoyed watching her and Carmilla's song, that was cool. Protecting her girlfriend, very cute. I liked seeing her and Lute have that little face-off.

Husk: Sad that we didn't get to see much of him, but I get it. His interactions with the others were sweet (especially Angel). I loved the one line he got to sing on his own in that last song of episode 8. 😍

Angel: Ngl I am very glad he wasn't the one to die. It would've been a fun little "oh crap" moment but I really didn't want to be right. He's still got business down there. His interactions with the others here are everything to me, and he's just grown so much and aaaaaa. It's lovely to see! I love him more and more with every episode.

Niffty: YOU GO, GIRL!!!! Love to see the stabbing. I also really loved the...one line Nifty got. Kimiko Glenn's voice is a gift, I freaked out over getting to hear one line. Anyway. not much else to say other than I definitely thought it was Alastor doing a big "oh look, I'm alive!" thing when Adam got stabbed, but I was pleasantly surprised.

Cherri Bomb/Sir P: I was surprised, to say the least, when Cherri and Sir P had that little moment. Glad they got it before he went and DIED. Cherri is such a good friend to Angel and she's great. Now, onto Sir P...WOW, OKAY. Glad we know Charlie's plan isn't completely stupid. Wonder how Sera's gonna react to him being there now, lol.

The Vees: FIRST OFF, VOX?????? "This is better than sex!" 💀💀💀 Truly was not expecting to see as much of the Vees as we did. Not complaining though. It was...interesting...to say the least, watching Vox get as excited as he did over the prospect of Al dying (still as obsessed as ever, fr). Not at all surprised to see Val and Vox have a thing going, I figured from the interactions we've seen so far. Them dancing together was silly, them practically making out was less so 😃. Also, gotta continue the love for Velvette--putting up with these two idiots must take a lot. Also also, her HAIR! HER HAIR!! EEEEE

Lucifer: I reallllyyyyyy enjoyed seeing Luci make a return to help Charlie, even if it was in one of those "last-minute saves" that I usually hate. Idk, makes sense here I guess because he's probably always watching over Charlie some way. ALSO LUCI AND CHARLIE GOING ALL DEMON-Y TOGETHER WAS <33333333 I really loved him starting off that last song in episode 8, and telling Charlie that he believes in her. It was so sweet. I love Luci sm, hoping he becomes a more integral part of the crew in s2.

Adam/Lute/Lilith: HAHA HOW DOES IT FEEL TO LOSE??? Lute got what she deserved with the whole...arm thing. ALSO WHAT--JUST GONNA CASUALLY DROP LILITH IN HERE NOW? Sure, fine, whatever, totally cool. Not sure how to feel about Lilith atm so moving on. I dunno why I was so shocked upon seeing Adam's face. I guess I expected him to...not look as good as he does? Also so upset that he broke Al's staff. How rude. He sucks.

Rosie: Not how I expected her to sound, but I'm most certainly not disappointed. I don't have much to say other than I loved literally everything about her. No complaints--at least not yet ig, need to go back and rewatch the episodes critically. Her and Alastor is everything to me, and seeing them dance was <333333 I cannot express my excitement over it enough.

Alastor: Saved him for last because yes. If I wasn't limiting myself to a short paragraph for each, I'd be writing a whole essay just about Al, I swear....CANNOT believe what just happened omg. Not only did we get to see silly Al in episode 7, but we got to see scary (and scared) Al in episode 8. He's really freaking out, it's so entertaining! I'm so glad it wasn't him who died, I started getting a bit worried for a minute there....His relationship with Rosie is aaaaa, best of besties fr. Fighting Adam scene was glorious. Making Vox act like an idiot even when not trying was funny to watch (Vox's obsession with this guy is so silly). Him retreating sure was a move, but I'm glad he didn't get all stubborn and end up dying. Him ranting a bit in his section of the final song was so...AAAAAAA. Man is so scared, he looks stressed as can be. I need to see Alastor just have an external breakdown because he honestly feels like he's on the verge of one. 💀

Stopping for now before I go on a bigger rant than I already have. To those who read all this, I'm so sorry pfft. Feel free to leave a comment if there's something you wanna discuss (or, better yet, send one of those ask thingies. I do not have comments figured out yet...)

Anyway, have a good one <3

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noangeleither · 7 months

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"fixing" the panic attack scene to be more platonic ™

im extremely active on twt and have been noticing a sydcarmy tweet go viral multiple times a week (like w thousands of interactions its crazy), and its really great to see how much people love and see it for this ship. recently carmys panic attack scene went viral again, and naturally, some ppl gave their piece about how we are all dumb for interpreting it as romantic. that sydney represents his love for his job or his duty to the restaurant (*sigh*).

this scene imo, is the most concrete proof of this ship. i can excuse (not really) interpreting every interaction between them thus far as platonic but this scene....i just refuse. this is gonna be a long post, not analyzing the scene per se because i can't possibly say anything that hasn't already been said but more "fixing" the scene to fit the narrative of antis, and i hope in doing so really shows there's no other way to interpret this scene as other than romantic. again its gonna be a long post bc im just ranting and i think i will lose my mind if i dont type this out.

lets go.

so first off i like to think of this scene as an equation/experiment. simply a problem that needs to be solved.

problem/reason of panic = ...we will discuss this...

solution # 1 = claire -> failed

solution # 2 = sydney -> worked.

Problem/Reason

s02e09 opens up with carmy and claire finally consummating their relationship, with an interesting song choice might i add and carmy dissociating, looking sad, or broken (???) after. because many have said carmy pulling memories of sydney from his psyche to calm down have to do with work i always remember that, it really doesnt make any sense?

carmy is clearly having a panic attack due to him not being "fixed" as soon as he made it official with claire. he felt pressure from his family both currently and in the past to date claire because she is amazing and perfect. add mikey also being a part of that crowd, and carmy so desperately trying to connect with him when he cannot, is why i think he looks so despondent after that scene. i truly think he thought he would be a changed person after everything with claire and when that didn't happen he flipped...

we know this is the reason bc his panic attack starts with their sex scene and the lyric "I dont know" from strange currencies by REM.

this isn't to say that he isn't nervous or stressed about the soft open but its clear that he's not having a panic attack about work nor have we ever seen him have a work-related panic attack (correct me if I'm wrong). in s1 he has one or two due to him greiving his brother.

platonic fix: To make it about work I would have added scenes like when Carmy started that stove fire in braciole, his meltdown in review, some scenes of his horrible time at EMP, and him grieving his brother. i think these would represent his fear of failure, falling back into old toxic habits pertaining his career, the fear of fostering a toxic work environment like the ny chef and also the idea of "failing" mikey

but theres a reason why none of this occurs bc its not about his job or the opening of the bear. this is explicitly about his personal and romantic love life.

Solution # 1 : Claire

carmy proceeds to try and calm down by thinking of claire through literal rose-coloured glasses...

the music is distorted, he's thinking of his abusive family, he remembers every one pushing him to date claire bc shes a #goodthing.

again...this is not about his job and wouldnt make sense to think of sydneys place in his work life as a soultion to his clear personal problem....

platonic fix: in the story of carmys love life claire and sydney act as narrative foils. they have been compared and contrasted for all of s2. my platonic fix for this would be making the NY chef this first "solution" of a work-related panic attack. he represents a horrible time in his life but also represents a time when carmy was at the height of his career. when carmy gets locked in the walk in and has his monologue, its alluded to that he will revert back to that mind set in order to not let everyone down.

NY chef abused him for so long, it makes sense that carmys psyche would readily go back to his insults and the time he himself was an isolated 'psycho' bc it yielded results.

nothing is black and white and i DO think sydney represents a healthier approach to the toxic mess that is the culinary world and does represent that for carmy. if the show was invested in that, sydney and the NY chef could be overtly contrasted like sydney and claire have been.

BUT again this isnt about his job and dedication as a chef...thus why he tries to think of claire to solve his personal problem, and it fails.

Solution # 2: Sydney

LMFAOOO.

carmy then in a crazy plot twist starts thinking of his platonic work bestie sydney adamu....the love song dedicated by the show to his relationship with his girlfriend is then made clear highlighting some pretty damning lyrics about desire and love.....all platonic btw. yes you are dumb if you think otherwise (*wink*)

I actually have two platonic fixes for this...

platonic fix # 1: if we only wanted to focus on sydney as a person who calms carmy down because shes his work bestie who represents his responsibilty to the bear and the postive change they are trying effect in the culinary world, i would add scenes where they are...you know actually cooking???

i think its pretty crazy how the memories carmys immediately jump to are ones that have little to do with their jobs. when they first meet (would also like to note that when carmy first laid eyes on Sydney, he forgot she was there for a job, so this is his raw reaction to seeing a pretty girl lol) and when she comes back after she quit and their break up fight.

i would add their scenes in carmys kitchen (even tho this is extremely damning bc they were flirting DOWN - they don't make this easy at all). this represents their collaboration skills and the way they WORK and bounce ideas off of each other seamlessly. specifically the scene about him wanting to give her a star, representing his duty to her and the restaurant.

*and no shade to carmy but if his responsibility to the bear/syd as a co-worker was bothering him this much and calmed him down wouldn't he have just immediately called the fridge guy.....anyways*

platonic fix # 2 (the best one): if i was chris storer and joanna calo and i REALLY wanted to sell it that carmy isnt in love with sydney then i would put every single member of the OG beef crew + Nat to calm him down not just Sydney.

im talking to them laughing at family, carmy giving tina his chefs knife, richie in his new suit, carmys one on one w Marcus/trying his donut, nat telling carmy shes pregnant (signifing rebirth/wanting to rid all the toxic abuse from his family), carmy trying sydney risotto, and her face when he said it was tremendous etc etc...you get the gist

and honestly?

even as i type this out im tearing up a little bit bc that would have been really beautiful. carmy is changing. he can and is getting rid of old toxic habits from his family and the mess that is the culinary industry. things are changing for the better....that would be beautiful....IF his panic attack was about any of these things lol.

and to even look at this scene without this need for symmetry and we entertain the idea of carmy thinking about his job as a solution for his personal problem...carmy has said himself (s02e01) that this isnt fun for him. i dont think that means he hates cooking i kinda disagree with the ppl who think he isnt passionate about it. i just think currently its something that doesnt bring him joy but i do think its something hes starting to or at least could have started to enjoy if he just committed to working with syd...

conclusion

theres a lot of....delusion? denial? straight up bias? yes all of that, going on.

idk what is happening bc this show is really great at being subtle. but i dont know whats more in your face, dumbed down, even a toddler could understand, than this scene. if you dont come out of this understanding that carmy is falling in love/currently in love with Sydney...and i hate using this term..but you just arent media literate.

bonus: bc it makes me laugh and connects the purpose and solutions.

i think we need a Snyder Sydcarmy Cut™ of bolognese and omelette.

the start of the episode is when sydney and carmy fight over claires inclusion in the menu, and also when sydney randomly asks him to define his relationship with Claire. the episode would continue until we get to the table scene.

i think its WILD how as soon as Sydney asks him to define their relationship, carmy starts calling claire his girlfriend. then the show proceeds to insert sydney in their romantic montage, shows her tattoo about heartbreak and someone getting in the way of your relationship...THEN proceeds to have carmy compare these two women in his mind and only calms down after seeing Sydney.

i could talk about this scene for AGES. wheres the straitjacket....

#the bear #sydcarmy #carmen x sydney #sydney x carmy #carmen berzatto #sydney adamu #idk why i typed this out #its not even really meta im just crazy about them and even more crazier about defending them #also tired of seeing braindead takes #yea...#hope you enjoyed my rant #time to go study for this bio midterm #my rants #sydcarmy meta

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dedenneblogs · 3 months

Text

HEARTBREAK HIGH S2 ANALYSIS PART 1 (buckle up this is going to be a doozy)

so... it's out (the trailer).

youtube

my excitement cannot be expressed...

BUTT! today, i will be doing my iconic mouse analysis of this trailer (this is actually the first time im doing something like this so it's not rlly iconic BUTT it will be soon) with the most comprehensive inspection i can using under 2 minutes of video as a basis....

with that said lets

BEGIN!

the heartbreak highers are back for another "cursed" term....

so glad to see the trio back in action. like. actually so happy. MIGHT explode from excitement... as always, their outfits slaylay.

the boyfriends... friends? boys? BUGS??? found out on hh s2!

these goons are back... gayer then ever,,, seriously. when will these two have an episode long make out 'sesh? unlikely, to much dismay....spoiler alert...you'll see....

MISSY!!!!! and sasha, i guess

SPOILER ALERT AGAINNNN missy looks like she'll be more prominent in this season so...WIN!!!!

also why is she mewing who is rizzing up

and new on the the chopping block-- Rowan Callaghan!

we'll get to rowan when we get to rowan

in other (more important) news-- SHE'S HEALING! HARPER IS HEALING!!!

i... *sobs* i she's growing her hair out oh my GAW...... she's getting better...she... there's a lower chance she'll cock-block amerie (oh but she'll get cock [spoiler-- again!])

butt let's not celebrate just yet-- it's still "everyone hates amerie" up in this joint, smellas

may as well... shot them. huh. well. pop off, i suppose... (amerie asserts her right to bear arms-- truly patriotic coming from an aussie!)

...touché coming from the (still) most hated student in heartly who only adds salt to the wound by... using the pink 'ildo from s1 as a mic... chat... she's lost it.

(unrelated but in the background-- MISSY AND MALAKAI!!! they were building up a relationship between them in s1 and how she and her brother (i think? 'memory's fuzzy) helped him heal from the shit he had to go through in s1 and even better connect him with his aboriginal roots. i hope to see more of these two interact come april 11th and i binge the whole season)

ALSO also ANOTHER new character-- Zoe Clarke!

we will ALSo get to zoe when we get to zoe

anywho-- cue: AMERIE'S ONLINE HARASSMENT ARC! becuz every show needs one...unfortunately. Give a cold welcome to Bird Psycho, heartbreak highers (we will get to bird psycho when we get to bird psycho)

(who ever is doing this shit is a bitch but either way: "you dont get to be the hero" shut your goofy ass up)

oh that's gore. that's core of my comfort character.

ok so maybe this bird psycho cuck isnt fucking around because clearly he's gotten to our girl ams :(

(dw they uh...take her out for ice cream. after this. proabably.)

moving foward-- STAND BACK I SAID STAND BACK WEIRD GIRL QUINNI

oughh im gonna be sick. of course. OF COURSE SHE WOULD GO FULL SHERLOCK HOLMES TO HELP HER BESTIE.

yeah anyways with this in mind she'd totally try and crack the fnaf lore wouldn't she. wouldn't she.

she's slay she's girlboss but at the end of the day she's a weirdo

anywho nuff of my rambling there--

ominous of you to say zoe

BUT ENOUGH OF HER CA$$HHHHHHHHHHHH

ca$h omg eshay eshay eshay pspspspsp,,,

i am so happy to see him (spoiler alert for 2 secs throughout the whole trailer) but anywho remeber? remeber right he's in prison. but seems to be doing okay... (maybe for the best heartly drama is really coming to a boiling point)

and-- oh. uh... chicken dumbell... okay... pop off, missy...

when i said i wanted more missy i didnt expect this

spider seems to be into tho maybe what ??1/1/111.1/?!??!/1/1/1

missy x spider was NOT on my bingo card

WHEN MISSY SAID SHE WAS STARTING TO LIKE WHITE BOYS I DIDNT THINK SHE MEANT THIS.

BUUTTTttttt-- i. am. down. for. it... somehow. frankly, spider needs someone to put him in his place and low and behold, missy seems to be the student to do so..........

hey. if they're both happy with their...chicken dumbells, i am too.

amerie dont be alarmed but there's a white boy to your right

in other news this love triangle scares the diarrhea out of me

look at them. they're the perfect couple (malakai x amerie 4life) and rowan is--

well he's a nice boy but cmon

LOOK AGAIN IM DOWN FOR THEM TO BE HAPPY BUTT when it comes in between THE BEST SHIP IN THE SHOW (looks at amerie x spider shippers with affectionate disdain) i draw the line.

but who knows? rowan seems nice enough, and if he's able to make amerie happy, let them have each other! <3

also knowing malakai's track record i wouldn't put it past him to get freaky with rowan too (threesome attempt 2??? actually no wait thats a horrible idea NEVERMIND [gets s1 ep4 flashbacks])

also also "classic love triangle" scene gives major "erm...well this is akward!" vibes from ams (we stan cringey amerie in this household tho)

and well. shart. max limit of 30 photos. oh well-- ill make a second part! tune in for the update heartbreak highers :3

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