#one half is from being raised in high society

[chocor0se]

when tim is working as the ceo of WE in public half of the time he’s the perfect figure, looking fancy and being respectful while also being intimidating when he needs to be. the other half he’s so tired he just starts cussing at annoying people and flipping them off.

#one half is from being raised in high society #the other side is from roaming around gotham’s streets as a child with no supervision #tim drake #batfam #robin #red robin #red robin tim drake #timothy drake wayne #tim drake wayne #chaotic tim drake #ceo tim drake #wayne enterprises #batfamily

[whispersoftheton]

Hello!

Do you think you could write an anthony x reader angst turned fluff/smut fic?

They’ve married out of duty but both have feelings for each other they refuse to admit

Hi! This is also my first fic for this fandom and I got kind of carried away with it, hope you don't mind :) Thank you for requesting btw <3

dont worry the next request i post will have smut in it and im posting that one this weekend >:)

Anthony Bridgerton x F!Reader

Warnings: reader and Anthony are married, pining, death of parents (reader), angst, kissing, fluff at the end

Word Count: 2.4K

The day dawned crisp and clear, sunlight peering through the flowing curtains and illuminating your path along the long hallway of your lavish home. The sounds of maids bustling through the estate and the gravel crackling beneath the horse's hoofs from outside filled your ears. Your mind raced with the many tasks at hand for today as you straightened out your dress. The last ball of the season was a significant one indeed, and you had the honor of hosting it tonight. The last few days were filled with overseeing that every detail of the evening, no matter how small, was managed and executed perfectly. 

As the maids fetched accessories and floral arrangements for you to approve ahead of the festivities, you pondered how your life had drastically changed. A mere three months had passed since your wedding day. Still, it seemed a lifetime ago. You had every reason to be happy, you had married well, living more than comfortably, and your husband was not unkind towards you like others you've heard about. But your marriage to the viscount wasn't exactly the love story of the century, to say the least. 

After the passing of both your parents, Lady Danbury had taken you in as one of her own. Raised you to be a lady of society in every way she saw fit and even sponsored your coming out last season. The very same season, the Queen appointed you as her diamond. Not long after, none other than Anthony Bridgerton set his sights on you, surpassing any honorable suitor that even thought about appearing at your doorstep. The entire courtship, along with the proposal, felt purely transactional. Anthony berated you with questions, encounters feeling more like interviews than any courting you were used to. It was not as if you were not attracted to the man if you were being entirely honest with yourself; you'd spent the better half of your time bottling up whatever it is that blossoms in your chest when he is near. And you hated yourself for it. For feeling something you couldn't even name for a man who treated as nothing more than an object. Every public outing where he was caring towards you, even kind and every bit of charming you could ever hope for, raised your hopes high only to see them crashing down at the indifference towards you the moment you were alone without the peering eyes of the ton on you.

Your wedding and honeymoon came and went in a blur. Not even able to consummate the marriage properly due to an argument that left you both enraged and unable to look each other in the eye in the days that followed. The following months were a string of simple greetings in passing and only speaking to one another when absolutely necessary. The empty house you now lived in was becoming your own personal void without so much as the company of your supposed husband.

"Viscountess Bridgerton, are you alright?" Your maid questioned as you snapped out of your haze and directed your attention back to the bouquets before you.

"Yes, this one will be lovely for tonight, thank you." You made your final decision as Anthony strolled into the room. Your maids quickly making themselves sparse, leaving the two of you alone.

"My family should be arriving any second; I assume everything for tonight is in order, is it not?" The underlying sarcasm and questioning of your ability as the lady of the house crawled right under your skin, any lingering feelings you had been contemplating only a moment ago for the Viscount gone in an instant at his distasteful manner.

"Yes, Lord Bridgerton." You replied dryly.

"Dear, we are married and have been for some time now. I would very much like it if I did not have to tell you to address me by my first name while we are in our home." You audibly scoffed at his command while standing from your seat.

"And I would very much like it if my husband would not treat me as though I do not exist." You snapped. Anthony's jaw clenched as he tensed before you. "Seems like neither of us shall get what we want. Now if you'll excuse me, my lord, I have some preparations still pending for tonight. I am sure you can see your family to their rooms for now." 

"Now, you will not even greet my family. Do you have a distaste for them as well?"

"Never. I adore your mama and siblings as if they were my own." Anthony searched for any sign of deceit but instead found honest eyes staring back at him, making his heart ache. "If anything, I am grateful. Alas, there shall be a Bridgerton in this home I do not dislike." 

Your thoughts betrayed you abruptly exited the room and returned to your bed chambers to prepare for the evening, shutting the door and leaning against it in an attempt to steady yourself. Damn him. His scent blurred your thoughts and inhibited every one of your senses as you attempted to concentrate on the anger portrayed in his words. Instead, your mind wandered to how his white shirt hugged every curve of his chest, the plumpness of his lips, and the curve of his jaw. It was alluring in the most intoxicating way. You knew you had to compose yourself before the night began; the last thing you needed was to be distraught at your own ball.

------------------------

You stepped into the ballroom in your new dress gown the modiste had spent a significant amount of time making especially for this occasion. The staircase was beautifully adorned with white roses and touches of lilacs cascading down onto the main area. Candelabras and other flourishing arrangements were stationed around the refreshment tables your guests gathered at, and the thrumming rhythm of classical music whispered into your ears as you took notice of everyone enjoying themselves before greeting them. 

Unbeknownst to you, Anthony stood at the opposite end of the ballroom, observing how you conducted yourself gracefully amongst the guests—making light conversations while extending your kindness to everyone. He marveled at your ability to make each person feel as though they had your undivided attention; although he would never admit it, he found himself yearning for that same attention from you.

Early on, Anthony knew you fit all the requirements he had given himself for a wife. Someone honorable and suitable enough to hold the role of his Viscountess. It was precisely why he had chosen you, but that wasn't the only motive. You were the only lady's company outside his sisters; he did not particularly hate. Every potential partner he sought that season out had come up empty, whether it had been on the conversation or any other unfulfilling matter they discussed. You were different. You carried a conversation like no other, educated in far more areas than he could've hoped for, but none of that quite captured his heart in an unsuspecting manner like your character. You were kind and compassionate in a way he admired; you challenged him in ways that irritated him to no end, yet he found himself entirely enraptured by you. This is precisely why he had no choice other than shut you out completely. Anthony knew letting you get too close would be going against everything he wanted for himself. He couldn't let himself love another or have another love him; with love came loss. That he knew for certain.

"All seems good with the two of you, I see." Daphne smiled while moving to stand by Anthony as she spoke, breaking his train of thought.

"Good? I do not follow, dear sister." Anthony cleared his throat.

"Yes, good. With the way you were just openly admiring your wife, I assume it is only because the two of you have finally gotten over yourselves and admitted whatever it is you feel for one another." Anthony practically rolled his eyes at his younger sister, beginning to regret ever being forthcoming with her about the circumstances of his marriage early on. "Oh, do not tell me you are still playing this game? At this stage of marriage? Anthony-" She began scolding him, but he interrupted and led her to a more private area of the ballroom. 

"There is no game. We married because it was our duty to do so. Nothing more, nothing less. You will have to accept that, Daphne." Anthony's voice grew stern as he furrowed his brows at his sister.

"And I do. What I will not accept is the way your love for each other goes unspoken when it is clear to everyone around you." She spoke her following words in a hushed tone as to keep anyone who may be standing near from listening to them. "There is no doubt you hold love in your heart for her, brother. But if you do not tell her soon, I fear you will lose her and your only chance at happiness forever." With that, Daphne offered him a soft smile before walking towards Simon, who busied himself greeting Lady Danbury and her mama.

The night went on better than you could've hoped for. The dances and mingling were without a flaw, and even Lady Bridgerton and the Dutchess were quick to praise you on how well everything had turned out. Soon the guests started to filter out, making their way home after a long night of celebration. You strolled over to your husband after bidding goodbye to her majesty the Queen and ensuring everything had been to her liking. Anthony couldn't help but take notice of how stunning you looked tonight. How your dress fell perfectly over your figure, gems scattered throughout to match his mother's necklace laid in the most alluring way on the supple skin of your neck and chest. He was entranced in a way he'd never been before. Perhaps Daphne had been right. There's a sentence he never thought he'd utter, he thought to himself. Perhaps he had let his fears control him for far too long.

You had barely noticed your ring slipping from your fingers to fall at Anthony's feet as you approached him. Both of you leaned down to reach for it in unison, fingers ghosting over one another, making your breath catch and your eyes meet as he placed it upon your finger once again. The intimacy of such a small moment becoming too much to bear far too quickly.

"I must go." You could not bear to withstand one more moment under Anthony's intense glare, the part of you that wanted to finally divulge all the feelings you'd fought so hard to suppress after all this time threatening to break through at any given moment. You suddenly stepped back, picked up your dress the best you could, and walked hastily to avoid attracting unwanted attention from lingering guests. As you paced through the gardens, an overwhelming and uncertain feeling washed over you before you overheard Anthony's steps behind you.

"Why? Why is it that you distance yourself from me?" Anthony shouted in a hushed tone toward you. 

"Me? I am not the one stuffed in my office all day, coming to bed at late hours of the night when I am asleep and gone once I wake. Avoiding me day in and day out as if I am a plague to you." Tears welled in your eyes, making Anthony's breath hitch. He could not stand to see you like this. Every nerve in his body burned to fix whatever was troubling you, even if he was the one who caused it. Every feeling he had worked so hard to bury all this time, convincing himself he did not love you, could not love you, surfacing with every word that escaped your lips. "You treat me as though you do not care for me." Your voice was just low enough for him to hear, eyes cast downward, unable to give him so much as a glance through his silence. 

"Do not care for you? It is as if I am being consumed when I am with you. I cannot hold a breath or do the most ordinary task without you racing across my every thought. I feel as though I am losing my sanity because I cannot bear to be without you for one second. And when you are near me, it is positively intoxicating in ways I did not know to be possible." Anthony stepped cautiously toward you, fingers ghosting over your cheek, eyes dancing along your features with adoration filling them. "I love you. I love you as much as a person can love another. I do not wish to hold it inside anymore. I love you."

"I love you too." A sob wracked your chest as you responded without hesitation. The reflection in your eyes conveyed the devotion and tenderness he yearned for. It was as if you indeed saw the pieces of him but only sought to love him as he was, incomplete and perfect in every way in your eyes. As your husband.

Your heartbeat quickened as Anthony stepped close enough so that your noses practically brushed against one another—a familiar desire spreading from your heart to your chest.

Anthony cupped your face, his thumb tenderly stroking your cheek. Chills spread along your skin at the warmth of his touch. Unbridled affection flowed freely and filled the space between you. Your lips met for what felt like the first time; his other hand settled at your waist, prompting you closer to him and deepening the kiss. His lips moved against yours with a gentle urgency. It was as if nothing else mattered, the past becoming more of a distant memory the further you melted into him. There was only this moment. Anthony unwillingly pulled away, leaving your foreheads pressed against one another, his hair slightly disheveled from your fingers running through it, lips swollen and thoroughly kissed. A deep sigh escaped him before he spoke.

"I would marry you again if I could. Do it all over from the very beginning." His voice slightly wavered at the sentiment; it suddenly weighed on him how much he truly meant it. He wished nothing more than to turn back time and love you the way you deserve from the very beginning. Things would have been so different.

"Anthony, you do not need to embellish. We already married." A chuckle escaped you, a knowing smile gracing his lips. "What?"

"You called me Anthony." 

I do not consent to having my work reposted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. if anyone sees my work anywhere that is not ao3/tumblr or under any other username that is not whispersoftheton, it has been reposted without my permission

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton fluff #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton fic #bridgerton fic #bridgerton fanfiction #daphne bridgerton #queen charlotte #lady danbury

[ghostface-knight]

i'd like to present my concept of nightmare time episodes where every (or almost every) person is played by the same person, inspired by jaime lyn beatty in daddy. here are some ideas:

peter spankoffski is done being at the bottom of the hatchetfield high food chain, and so he seeks out help to become cooler. he comes across ethan green, who, having just been left by his girlfriend lex, decides, "what the hell, i'll mentor this kid on being cool". when ted spankoffski learns that his little brother is hanging out with "that no-good ethan green", he confronts pete about it, perhaps a little too harshly. his intentions are good, but when has anything ever gone the way he meant? ted, like everybody in town, knows about ethan's reputation, and he thinks he'll be a bad influence on pete. he knows that, if anyone can, pete can make it out of hatchetfield, and he doesn't want ethan screwing that up. so he confronts him, and one thing leads to another, and eventually pete storms out in anger. ted knows if he goes after pete immediately, he'll only make things worse, so he decides he'll let him have his moment of teenage rebellion and then reconcile with him after. a few hours later, ted spankoffski, now drinking his problems away, is approached by a mysterious man who has somehow gotten into ted's apartment. wilbur cross, as he introduces himself, half-convinces and half-mind controls ted into believing that ethan is responsible for this, and the only way to protect pete is to kill ethan. he storms into ethan's tiny basement apartment, wielding his now shattered bottle of booze, and prepared to rip him limb from limb with his new super-powered companion. ethan can hold his own, though, and the brawl is a tough match. eventually, though, ethan manages to get the remaining shard of the bottle and shove it straight through ted's chest. as this happens, pete comes out of ethan's bathroom, revealing that he'd gone to ethan for comfort after his fight with ted. ted bleeds out on ethan's floor as pete holds him.

ruth fleming has graduated high school, and she's lucky enough to find a super chill job as a farmhand on the farm of emma perkins. one day, as they do their usual work (which isn't much, to be honest), they are approached by linda monroe, who is all but seething. she's goes on about how drugs are evil and she will not raise her children in a town where such depravity is taking place. they threaten her off the property, and they think that'll be over and done with. it's not like they've never had to deal with moralistic creeps like her before, and they've always come out the other side. linda comes back the next day with a petition signed by just about every member of the hatchetfield boating society. yeah whatever, perky's buds is not going to be dismantled by some stupid rich people who think they have more power than they do. in the midst of this, they've recently recieved a new client: 17 year old hannah foster. a quiet kid from hatchetfield high, who seems to have joined the smoke club as a way to make some friends. emma and ruth don't think much of it -- neither of them have any qualms about selling to teenagers, and business is business. however, hannah keeps coming back for more and more, and ruth starts to wonder if there's something else going on. back in the linda plot, linda has taken to bringing people out to the farm to protest. each day she (or, more accurately, the people she's hired) come with more and more people holding cardboard signs and chanting. it's really starting to get on emma's nerves. one day, while hannah is picking up her purchase, linda, surrounded by a mob of angry parents and hatchetfield adults, returns. suddenly, linda no longer seems like a nuisance, but a legitimate threat. her followers carry weapons and the menacing smile on her face tells emma and ruth that she isn't messing around. as the mob breaks through the door of the farm house, emma and ruth urge hannah to look for shelter. hannah refuses though, and emma swears her eyes begin to gleam almost inhumanly. the mob makes it to them, and are suddenly thrown back by a wave of psychic energy so powerful it shatters the walls of the house. hannah's new powers (on account of the weed) leave emma, ruth, and herself standing unharmed in the middle of a surrounding pile of groaning, injured people.

i have a few other concepts, but this is getting super long so i better leave it here for now lmao

#hatchetfield #hatchetverse #long post #starkid #npmd #nerdy prudes must die #tgwdlm #nightmare time #the guy who didn't like musicals #black friday musical #nightmare time 2 #ethan green #peter spankoffski #ted spankoffski #wilbur cross #emma perkins #ruth fleming #linda monroe #hannah foster #fanfiction

[i-am-the-avatar-of-idiocy]

Baby trapping with the yandere obey me boys

AFAB! Reader, you/your pronouns, my favouritism for certain characters being obvious

tw pregnancy/yandere

Part 2- do they see the child as their own person or an extension of MC?

Who do I think is most to least likely to baby trap MC?

Diavolo

I honestly think this partially because he needs an heir because he’s a royal but also he’s delusional. He truly believes you love everything he does and you’re both ready to have a child. It also ties you down to him, what more does he want but that? If you have a child together, surely you can’t leave him.

he dismisses your fears with patronising words and gentle touches. It seems you cannot anger him during this period, take this newfound power with care though. Just because he can’t punish you now, doesn’t mean he’ll hold a grudge

from an outsider looking in, you are an adorable couple excited for their baby to be born, but they don’t see the crying as you are kept at arms length so you don’t do something stupid. They don’t see the pain you feel when he talks to your growing belly in such a tender way that you wish your relationship could be normal. It would be a comfort then. But it’s not. It feels like a constant threat, you are too afraid to push him away or move

I think your child(ren) will grow up thinking you and diavolo are normal and lost in love with one another until they reach their teen years where they realise it’s not healthy. You think they’ll help you? I’m afraid your mistaken, they will simply act as guard dogs for their father. You cant leave now, none of them want you too. You love them don’t you?

leviathan

levi is next in my list.

this might not be a popular pick for this high position but it asserts to him that you are HIS

he’s not prepared to be a father, you don’t want his child

You cant find help anywhere, his brothers don’t know your there. You just know there is a child inside you and you want it gone.

levi sees it as a sign of your love, he feels affirmed by it

he will do research to help you but you just cry. This delusional demon thinks they’re happy tears

he tries to make you feel happy, truly

The chains are for your safety

he wants you to be together forever and this child HE put there keeps you tied. Why cant you understand that?

the pregnancy runs surprisingly smooth however you are left a broken being by the end of it

You think this could alert the brothers though, however what you don’t realise is that leviathan has a secondary location prepared. You’re still a prisoner, but you have a bit more space. You can hardly look at the child when it looks so similar to the bastard who kidnapped you. You know it’s not their fault but you hate them

the child(ren) grow up knowing you and their father aren’t a normal couple

I see 2 outcomes: they help you escape and reintegrate you into society and call their uncles to help OR when they still are young and Levi isn’t around you kill them. You feel guilty but in the spur of the moment it seemed logical. And Levi went furious over this and you were drowned when he summoned Lotan. He couldn’t believe you were all dead. He kept you and the kid in a coffin looking for ways to bring you back. You can only hope he doesnt

Lucifer

Well it’s quite obvious he’d be high on the list

hes a control freak and a sadist

seeing you wailing as it’s obvious that your pregnant makes him feel a sick sense of joy.

you’re stuck with him. Forever. You couldn’t raise a half demon child on your own and you know it. You couldn’t provide and no one would believe what lucifer did to you was true

hes baby-proofing everything

he constantly reminds you of it too

He knows how much you hate this situation , but he just doesn’t seem to care

he does make sure you get all the care you need and everything you could even think of.

the pregnancy runs somewhat smoothly with only your hatred of him causing some disruption

he still punishes you, but lighter than before.

you try not to hate the baby, you know it’s the fathers fault, but you can’t help but want to cry as you see the dark hair and red eyes in small bundle you hold close to you. You want to protect it though, from Lucifer

he seems to be more tender than before, but he’s still cruel

Lucifer uses the child as a reward. If you behave you see it. If you don’t, would be a shame if something happened, wouldn’t it?

It could grow up cruel and like it’s father or like you, wanting you to get out. Maybe if it speaks out when it’s older and people get to you fast enough, you’ll be saved? This depends on how much the child sees you though

Satan

He is sure it will strengthen the bond between you

he also just wants you to feel forced to stay with him

surprisingly, he treats you both extremely well. It’s almost enough to help you forget the circumstances on your ‘relationship’ ALMOST

he enjoys reading books to the bump and kissing it, it’s honestly heartwarming.

he makes sure you get all the medical attention you need and also your cats are an excellent form of comfort and warmth

he enjoys looking after you, he treats you so well because maybe the entire experience might make Stockholm get its hold in you?

The child sees the healthy side of your relationship because you cannot bear the idea of it seeing what happens behind closed doors

it grows up blissfully unaware and if it does work it out, they will simply ignore it, out of fear or not, you’ll never know

youll be the image of the happy family, but you never will be and you know it.

Mammon

It was an accident but a part of him is happy

He and your love formed a whole new thing.

you can’t leave him now, after all you have showed your devotion

unfortunately he thinks he knows how this will work. He doesn’t

he takes up more of your time than before and he doesn’t provide everything you need. No doctors appointments because he can’t stand other people touching you

so it’s a horrible experience

you suffer through the whole experience and he can’t see it

the child grows up like their father I’m afraid, clingy and a bit of a moron but you try not to hold their resemblance to their father against them

you might be able to get away I think. Depends on the plan

Simeon

Honestly I think you could ignore the toxic traits and it could happen quite quickly with him. It looks like a normal relationship but you know deep down it’s not

its a ‘planned’ thing. By Simeon of course. Not you

he keeps you close so you can’t leave. Even before the child(ren) is born you’re stuck with him

he treats you incredibly. He keeps you as happy as you can be in that situation

the child is radiant and the perfect combination of you and it’s father. He loves the baby, you hurt that you and him are now joined in the way of a child

simeon acts as though you are normal and always have been. You go along with it. You’ve never seen him truly angry and you don’t want to so you go along with his lies.

the child grows up with affectionate parents and becomes a well rounded adult. Also big brother Luke is prominent in their life

they end up as an amazing person and you are so proud, but you know that if you asked them for help, told them the truth of their father, they wouldn’t believe you.

beelzebub

Hes a family man

Once again may be an accident

he knows your relationship is unhealthy but he thinks this will repair it

he also wants you to love him more

the pregnancy is average, not amazing, not terrible

hes sure he’ll be a great dad and assures you of it

the baby grows up in an alright household. It seems like the usual family, arguments and affection

The child won’t know what happens when they sleep and before they were born. And they never will and beel makes sure they’ll never find out

Asmodeus

Asmodeus has a true love of you. He just presents it in a less than ideal way (blackmailling you to be in a relationship with him)

he thinks that the baby will be so cute on your shared devilgram. It may also be a publicity stunt on top of forcing you to stay close to him.

you get arguably the BEST treatments in the Devildom and glow throughout the process. You’re pretty, healthy and pregnant with his baby, what more could asmo want

the baby is one of the ones that grows up in the public eye. It’s sad honestly. They grow up with little privacy

they also know (despite their father trying to hide it) the way you two ‘fell in love’, they want to help you. You’ve always been their favourite parent too

if they help you, you present it publicly that you just weren’t happy anymore. Only you three know the truth. You and the child will remain popular and wealthy and you’re safe now. The child will go a bit obsessive over your safety, make sure it doesn’t go too far though. If they don’t, it will either just remain unknown or it might come out when you snap. Will everyone believe you?

barbatos

Honestly he could go anywhere on this list. I’ve put him here though because I believe he doesn’t feel as though he has to.

he does it doesn’t do it depending on his wants. If barbatos wants a child, he’ll have a child with you. The universe is on his side, so you can’t deny it seems logical that you can’t really say no.

he may leave some feelings of not wanting the baby from you but this honestly once again depends on his feeling and his ‘relationship’ with you. If you’re more willing to fight he will be more sadistic. If you’re Docile, he’ll be kinder and gentle

( i have a headcanon that barb’s SO can see visions of the future and past but like only in other universes. I’ve written it in other works I think somewhere. I gained it from a creator who has a similar one but I changed it up a tiny bit to fit what I think so MC also has this going on for them)

the pregnancy runs perfectly. No problems. Not once.

he takes care of you really well

The child knows their parents are not in a healthy relationship.

it helps their father. Remember that he can change things to fit his will? Everything forced you to stay with him. Himself and his child. The slim chance of escape has reduced to 0, don’t worry though. They’ll take care of you

Belphegor

Belphegor doesn’t know anything about having children. But one too many escape attempts has lead him to the conclusion of a child. That would force you to stay

The pregnancy goes badly, simple enough and leads to you being in pain.

oh and by the way, you’ll be the only taking care of the child, belphie only sees it as a method of keeping you close to him.

you behave for your child’s safety. You find yourself fond of them. and of course belphie uses that against you

the child knows how bad the relationship is but doesn’t comment as it’s afraid of it’s father

Solomon

Cannot see him with kids. He doesn’t think he’d be a good father and I don’t think so either. He’s somewhat self aware

he simply uses magic to tie you down instead

#yandere obey me #yandere lucifer #yandere mammon #yandere leviathan #yandere satan #yandere asmodeus #yandere beelzebub #yandere belphegor #yandere diavolo #yandere barbatos #yandere simeon #yandere obey me! #obey me x reader #obey me x pregnant reader

[espion7971]

MudWing tribe sheet!

you guys really liked my last wof art post, and i've been planning for a while to do these more thorough tribe headcanon sheets, so here's the first one! some of these i'm already done with, others i'm not, so when i post them will just depend on when i finish them lol. i'll be doing them in the order that they appear in at the beginning of each book. so that means mudwings are first!

much more detailed explanations of tribe headcanons are below the cut.

Physical Appearance + Traits:

-MudWings are the largest of all tribes by mass. Their legs are not particularly long, and they are quite a bit shorter than SkyWings, but their muscle content and the density of their bones far outmatches other tribes.

-They are the most crocodillian of the tribes; the rough armor along their backs gives them camouflage, and the high-set eyes and nostrils allow them to submerge almost entirely into ponds and mud patches. 

-They can hold their breath for up to 70 minutes; this is helped by the thin, froglike skin on the underside of their bodies, through which oxygen can be diffused, letting them “breathe” underwater for a limited amount of time.

-Large horns, often bull- or ram-like.

-MudWings have wings that, while big, are not large enough proportional to their enormous bodies to fly often or comfortably. They can fly when necessary, but generally prefer not to - more on this in the “society and culture” section.

-Algae and moss that would usually grow on rocks or driftwood near muddy banks will often latch onto large, slow-moving MudWings, especially on their backs. Some old MudWings will become so overgrown that when lying down, it’s hard to tell they’re dragons at all. This earthy, forested look, though, is deeply respected as a sign of longevity and wisdom. (Some queens have been famous for their tremendous amount of greenery.)

-MudWing coloration, naturally, consists mainly of muddy browns, but there is some variation. Amber or reddish underscales, grays, and values ranging from sandy to dark umber tones are not rare. It’s thought that some MudWings may even have a greenish tint, but this may just as easily be algae hiding their true colors.

-They can only produce fire when they’re warm, and while it is used as a weapon at times, it’s less directional and focused than the fire of SkyWings, for example. It’s more often used to barricade off areas, as a threat display, or as a last-minute self-defense. 

Life Cycle:

-MudWings, completely uniquely among dragons, are hatched and raised by almost no one but their own siblings. These dragons are hatched into troops of between four and seven (with three, eight and nine being outliers), and from the first moment, these “sib” groups are deathly loyal to each other. Often, MudWing parents do not even meet their offspring, but the young troops survive by relying on each other. This is reinforced by the Bigwings, the first-hatched and biggest MudWing in every troop. (It is thought that Bigwings are determined not before they hatch, but by hormones during hatching: if a dragonet hatches on its own, it becomes a Bigwings - larger and with more protective instincts - and if it is assisted, it does not. This does, in theory, mean that it is possible to have multiple Bigwings in one troop if they are separated from each other. It’s also why it’s vitally important to not disturb a MudWing egg nest.)

-MudWing dragonets are hatched small, but grow very fast, reaching about half their body size in just their first few years. Once they slow down, though, they slow way down, and their growth is barely noticeable over the years and years that they can live. A hundred-year-old MudWing is visibly larger than a ten-year-old, but not as much as some other tribes.

-They do not partner into mated pairs, and rarely even form strong bonds outside of the sibling troop. Tribe-wide breeding nights, influenced by seasonal breeding cycles, are the only times they reproduce.

-MudWings have lifespans on the longer end - it’s possible, though uncommon, for them to live to nearly 200. A 90-year-old MudWing is considered fairly old.

Society and Culture:

-MudWings are extremely connected to the earth and ground. They believe deeply in its spirituality and necessity. This, along with their heavy bodies, is the reason they don’t fly much, at least when they don’t need to. Some, in fact, scorn SkyWings and other tribes that spend much of their life in the air; they believe that these dragons do not properly appreciate the earth and its soothing nature. They feel no desire to be away from it. Some troops only learn to fly for the sake of military training.

-Because of the tribe’s reliance on their troop system, the majority of MudWing territory is not centralized into towns or regions; MudWings are very thoroughly scattered throughout, either in small communities made up of a few sib groups, or just singular sib groups living alone. The palace is the only area in the kingdom that has a significant dense population. The strength in this is that sibling troops are very self-sufficient and there is no need to waste time overseeing the tribe. The weakness this presents is that news travels slowly and there is simply no comprehensive record of the number and locations of MudWings. This is sometimes a problem during organized war, but it also can be a benefit since these small communities will defend MudWing territory on their own without need for proper military action.

-In a similar vein, there is very little formal education outside of the palace. This has a similar benefit - no resources needed - and a similar cost: some troops are completely illiterate, have little knowledge of external affairs, or even speak different languages with no easy way to translate.

-Naturally, all MudWing queens are female, and they are almost always Bigwings; while royals simply use the explanation that they set aside troops with male Bigwings and try again until they get a female heir, some MudWings suspect that their true tradition is to kill any natural-hatching male Bigwings until the first female to hatch becomes the Bigwings instead. There is no real way to prove one way or another, though, and it’s generally seen as an unsavory topic. 

-MudWings are the only tribe that does not typically wear metal jewelry. On the occasion that they do decorate themselves, they prefer to use mud, moss, branches, and flowers. Clay beads on strings are the only “typical” traditional MudWing jewelry type.

Diet: Omnivorous. MudWings eat fish, reptiles, amphibians, insects, birds if they can catch them, and pretty much any other animals that live in the marshes with them. They also eat a variety of root vegetables and nearby fruits. MudWings care about food quality, and their palace is famous as a place with creative and delicious feasts served regularly. Generally, they are passive hunters that wait for prey to pass by.

BONUS:

There have been sightings of a distinct type of offshoot MudWing, possibly a few communities that have been distant from the proper mud kingdom for many generations. These dragons are short and long, not so different from SeaWings - and like SeaWings, they seem to have adapted to a more aquatic climate, in the coastal wetlands on the very edge of the kingdom. Their amphibian-like appearance has led some to call them “salamander dragons” or, more derogatorily, “NewtWings.” Most dragons who know of them are skeptical that they will branch off into their own tribe, but there is little to no communication with them or way to find more information.

#wings of fire #wof art #mudwings #wof headcanons #my posts

[moonlight-tmd]

Bumblebee having an electric ability without mods and he’s just never told his team because outliers weren’t always seen as good & so he never uses it publicly.

One day his stingers get yanked out and his team is hurt and so he HAS to use it.

He hasn’t used it in so long he forgot how powerful it could be and accidentally knocked out himself and the threat and his team because he lost control.

Blitzbee - he hints at it to Blitz because decepticons were more open about outliers & one day he shows blitz who helps him learn how to control it.

Prowlbee - Bee doesn’t give a single hint and prowl is so hurt bee didn’t feel he could trust him but he understands because he’s seen what outliers went through and Ratchet is so hurt because his grandson ( self declared ) didn’t slip him the outlier info off record while Optimus is such a mom and worrying for bee.

Bulkhead figured it out when he saw bee get electrocuted one day on Earth but didn’t even seem phased beyond surprised and just brushed it off.

Ok i kinda don't know what you're on about but i think i see it?

To simplify: Bee can manipulate electricity as a feat, just like Icy and Hotheat can control Ice/Fire respectively. And those that can do that are basically outcasted from society for being a threat/different.

Bee may have been forged defected but lemme tell ya, those wiring mishaps actually made him tougher to crack. The electricity just didn't flow right like with normal bots therefore he couldn't really take shock damage. He'd withstand high voltages with almost no harm.

Of course, being the street-raised bot he knew the risks of standing out so he tried his best to hide it. I think he might have accidentally electrocuted someone to death when he was a fresh runaway from the carequarters. He never knew they died, just that one moment someone was trying to hurt him and the next they were laying on the ground motionless and he ran as fast as he could.

He knew electricity could hurt so he tried his best to pretend being hurt whenever something zapped him. It was tough getting around trying not to zap anything but once he got the stingers from Ratchet the uncotrolled zapping was slightly more controlled as it had actual output designed to release electric charges.

Team Prime- Bee never told them about his little stunt ability, he thought they would look at him differently if he ever did.

One time some 'con ripped out his stingers and crushed them, Team Prime barely got to Bee to defend him. Ratchet had a lot of fixing to do so Bee was left defenceless for a while. One time when he and some other bot from the team were helping out some citizen, Constructicons wanted to have fun and came to wreck them. It was a close call and the rest of the team got there in time to fight... but something went wrong and the bad guys had advantage after advantage. At some point they were about to finish off Prowl when Bee came out of the forced hiding and latched onto the 'con before letting out the highest voltage electroshock he could muster. Of course it barely missed his teammates as chain reaction went off and knocked out half of the cons and damaged the rest. Somehow they managed to scramble and run away with the carcasses of their unconscious fellas, leaving Team Prime in quite literal shock of what happened.

Optimus was the first to be at Bee's side after noticing the scout laying motionless on the ground. He tried to reach and shake him awake but the moment his servo got close a leftover jolt of electricity zapped him hard, leaving a half-scorched mark.

Bee wakes up in medbay after few hours and is greeted by very worried Team. They ask him about what the heck happened back there and Bee avoids answering until Ratchet yells at him to tell them because it's important (and from that high voltage technically he should be dead lol).

Bee is visibly nervous but gives in and tells them. "So you know how Blitzwing can manipulate ice 'nd fire?"

"Yes- what does that have to do with this??"

"Well,... I can kinda do the same but- with electricity?"

And then he shows them a trick he learned to entertain himself- just making little electric sparks between his servos- when they ask to explain. Now onto reactions-

Optimus: He's still recovering from having his servo temporarily disabled by the leftover discharge, he's very much surprised and then concerned that Bee never told them- he worries about Bee's wellbeing as well as this being a possible threat for everyone if Bee doesn't get full control over it.

Ratchet: Honestly he shouldn't be surprised, the kid had so many electrocuting accidents that ended in no damages he should have connected the dots already. He just wishes the kid would have told him something about it to spare so many hours half-paranoid over how this mech still works after so many stunts that should have killed him.

Bulkhead: Bee told him about nearly everything except the super personal stuff like trauma. He's a little hurt for the lack of trust from his best friend but still finds it cool that Bee has such neat ability.

Sari: She is so heckin happy- Bee can do cool shit and make electronics do his bidding(kinda)! That's so cool! She does get a little spooked if she's too close to said electricity cuz she's been taught about the dangerous side of it.

Prowl: He's very much surprised cuz he didn't think someone else on the team possesed a unique ability like him (the whole hologram duplication and weird telekinesis thing, ex: turning stasis cuffs/electric locks off). He'll be glad to help Bee learn to control this ability. If ProwlBee: Prowl would still be surprised but he'd also be disappointed that Bee never told him when Prowl himself was pretty open about having his unique ability. He understands why Bee might have felt like he shouldn't say anything but he still feels that little bit of hurt inside.

If BlitzBee: Blitz learns about it before the event. Icy was showing him fun ways to play with ice and frost and Bee was so amazed by it he accidentally mentioned wishing he'd be able to do that with his element. Bee was shy about it when Blitzwing asked but he eventually showed him the little entertaining trick i mentioned earlier. It wasn't anything spectacular, he tried his best to keep it as low as possible to not get it out of control, but Blitz was still amazed and excited that his hummel could do something similar to his powers. Of course he teaches Bee how to manipulate element and they have some fun.

I think after the fact Bee can manipulate electricity is out in the open, Bee will definitelly pull some pranks on the others like messing with the lights or turning on/off some non-important machines to annoy them.

It would also make them aware of why the fuck Bee has so much energy all the time- the scout keeps his battery up by touching electronics, he unawarily charges himself via other stuff's batteries/outlet connections. (This explains why his switch/controller keeps dying so soon, huh.)

After being taught how to control his ability he defo drains certain stuff on purpose like, he'd drain stasis cuffs off their power and switch off the forcefield cell the 'cons put him in to hold hostage. Heck he might even drain them off energy if he sticks to them long enough and gets them passed out on the ground. It's also a good way to make someone go to berth when they can't recharge- drain them low enough to enforce the recharge protocol.

Ngl, that kinda sounds like energetic vampire but Bee's all for it. He likes the joke and keeps the play up quite well whenever someone mentions his ability.

#maccadam #tfa #ask box #tfa bumblebee #blitzbee #prowlbee #tfa optimus prime #tfa ratchet #tfa prowl #tfa sari #tfa bulkhead #electro bee au #tfa au

[bunchesofoats]

When The Lights Go Out.

Feat — Ajax Petropolus x Nevermore!Reader

Contains — No Established Relationship, Mutual Pining, Besties to Lovers (Sorta Technically Yes but Not Official), Teen Substance Use, Teen Drinking, Those Stereotypical American Style Parties You See With The Red Solo Cups (Except Classier?), also Drunk Confessions

Length — ~3.5k words

Notes — These fics just keep getting longer haha ALSO! For the sake of my personal plot purposes, Rowan does not d*e at the Harvest Festival. As far as we’re concerned, it didn’t happen. ALSO! You should all know me by now: My work is done at 3 am, therefore it’s not proofread. Amen.

“You have to come to the Nightshades Harvest Party!”

You rolled your eyes at Kent’s request. Leave it to him to make the secret school society not so secret in the middle of the school quad. Divina gave him a small punch to his side before looking back at you expectantly from across the table bench.

“All I’m saying is, the last person who was a downer got kicked out. Now look at him,” Kent gave an obvious look to Rowan Laslow, who was making his way out of the overgrowing quad population due to lunch hour.

“What he’s trying to say is, you’re practically a part of the Nightshades anyway. You know the code, who’s in it, where we’re located. Everything!” Divina explained. “Plus, we’re down a member anyway.”

“Lovely to know I’m Rowan Laslow’s replacement.” You snorted. You had nothing against the guy, but the twins were really not selling the idea to you at all. In fact, you didn’t even want to go to the Jericho Harvest Festival but attendance was mandatory.

“If it was Ajax asking then you’d say yes.” Kent crossed his arms, fake pouting at you. You flicked a piece of your lunch at him, hitting him directly between his eyes. He winced, holding the bridge of his nose as Divina snickered.

“Because Ajax is my best friend, and I know he wouldn’t tell me dumb stuff to get me to go.”

“Go where?” You heard a familiar voice call behind you. Turning to find Ajax, you moved your bag for him to sit next to you.

“Nowhere. Just a totally secret school society party that you would know nothing about.” You shrugged nonchalant as he sat down with you. He let out a small scoff with a smile. The smile you had been in love with for the past 6 months despite you knowing him for over 2 years.

“Technically you’re not supposed to know about it, but I guess people can’t keep their mouths shut.” Divina immediately pointed a finger at Kent who immediately pointed one back at her.

“Says the guy who can’t keep his mouth shut either, Mr. I Know When I’m High.” You mocked him, remembering the time he admitted he was in the Nightshades to you after a particularly long session of hotboxing Xavier’s shed before he repurposed it as his own.

“As far as we’re concerned, you practically pledged that night. He was not making it back to his dorm in one piece under Principal Weems radar.” Divina raised her hands in defeat.

“If I go, will you guys stop bugging me about being in the ever so definitely-totally-super-secret-definitely-not-notorious-amongst-half-the-student-body Nightshades?” You dramatically brought the back of your hand to your forehead in fake woe. Ajax took the opportunity to steal a bit of your food, which had you quickly swat away his hand away.

“Yeah, yeah. All that and more, just come to the party. It’ll be fun, I promise.” Ajax wrapped an arm around you reassuringly, to which you just rolled your eyes before reluctantly nodding. In that moment, you could’ve sworn you saw Divina slip Kent $10 underneath the table. You couldn’t tell though, because your food was stolen yet again.

Harvest Festival.

It wasn’t a particularly cold evening in Jericho, not with all the people gathered into one area. The sounds of carnival games and buzz from normies and outcasts alike filled the air. Along with the incredibly delicious scent of cotton candy, which you definitely wanted to get a grab of when you could.

“We have to try this out next, please!” Ajax was practically dragging you to each game in attempts to try them all. The “please” was just something his mothers taught him to add to every sentence at this point with how much he was pleading. You’d have to tell them both how annoying he was next Parents Weekend.

“Jax, please, I cannot carry another giant stuffed animal. We’re gonna have to give these to Enid’s collection at this point.” You were muffled underneath the mounds of faux fur in your arms. It was hard to say no with Ajax holding your wrist so carefully despite him pulling you to another booth, especially since you were pretty much blind with all the prizes you had gotten.

He finally stopped at a booth that seemed to his liking, and you managed to find a nice spot on the ground for all your stuffed wonders to watch. The booth was definitely haphazardly thrown together, you could tell it was a scam.

“Hit three balloons in a row and you get a prize!”

You looked at Ajax, brow raised as he excitedly handed the game master his money. Your lips tugging into a downward smile, he was unbelievably dense but he also happened to be the guy you had a crush on. So who was really in their right mind here?

“Easy win, I got this!” He picked up the darts in front of him. They were absolutely sanded down to be duller than a pencil, but who was gonna notice with all the commotion going on. You watched as he threw each one by one into the 3 by 3 board holding balloons that held less than enough air to be popped. Each of them ricocheting off or completely missing the balloons.

“Nice try, young man. How about your partner over here has a go instead?” The game master wiggled his eyebrows. Your eyes widened as he said that, immediately you tried to stammer out a no but words couldn’t escape your mouth.

“Hell yeah!” Ajax handed him another $3 before pulling you close to him. Your head spun at the situation, it wasn’t like you two hadn’t made close contact before. He was constantly clingy with all his friends. Even Xavier wasn’t safe from him and he was Nevermore’s self proclaimed tortured artist. The “partner” thing definitely had you in for a loop, and Ajax didn’t even deny it.

“You know what to do, hit three to get a prize.”

You slowly picked up a dart from the table, trying hard not to think about Ajax’s hands resting on your shoulders as he cheered you on. You knew why most people didn’t win these, and it was because they never thought to throw hard enough thinking it was easy. Either that or they just couldn’t aim correctly, and you were definitely part of the latter. It’s why Xavier couldn’t let you join the Archery club, something about being a hazard to society. As far as you were concerned, most outcasts were.

You took a deep breath, focusing on the balloons and willing your wrist to move. You pinpointed as best as you could and threw haphazardly, somehow making two in a row. You could feel Ajax hold his breath as his grip on your shoulder tightened ever so slightly. You took another deep breath, aiming for the last balloon in the top right. You threw the dart, eyes closing as the dart left your fingers, awaiting the disappointing sound of the metal hitting the cork wall. It never came.

Your ears were filled with a satisfying pop, an exciting cheer of Ajax behind you, and the game master sputtering to himself. You opened your eyes, seeing your throw had made its mark. You turned to Ajax beaming, he wrapped his arms around your waist, picking you up in excitement. You yelped as he did, but a laugh soon replaced it.

“Alright, lovebirds, pick your prize.” The game master grit his teeth, still putting on a fake smile. You looked to Ajax expectantly, seeing what he wanted. He proceeded to turn you back around, letting you look at the prizes yourself.

“You won, fair and square. Your choice.” He whispered into your ear, your thoughts honing into his voice over the loud carnival sounds. It sent a shiver up your spine that you had to shake off. Scanning the prizes carefully, you noticed a giant snake plushie hiding amongst the large bunnies and usual game prizes. You eagerly pointed to it, and the game master begrudgingly handed it over. You thanked the man despite his attempts at scowling at you both.

“Why would you need that? You have a better one right here!” Ajax pout, one of his snakes wriggling it’s way out of his cap. You laughed before giving the small reptile a boop on its head, which had it going back into its spot in the darkness of his beanie.

“Well, this one is less likely to stone me.” You held the stuffed animal close. Ajax picked up the other stuffed prizes he had won with a sigh.

“You know I would never purposefully try to stone you.” Ajax mumbled sadly behind his stuffies, to which you grabbed his hand gently.

“I know you wouldn’t,” You reassured him. “Now do you want to attend the Nightshades party tonight or not? You did a lot of convincing just to get me to go so I’d hate to miss it.” You showed him your phone screen which lit up the time.

“Oh, shit! We’re gonna be late, Bianca’s gonna have my head for this one.” Ajax started pushing his way through the crowds. You quickly followed suit, trying to not draw too much attention. It definitely seemed like Ajax was dragging you to another game though, a lot of your classmates wide eyed at all your prizes. You spotted Enid along the way out, and quickly pulled Ajax’s hoodie to prevent him from running further.

“Enid, hey, these are for you!” Ajax understood, pouring the mass amounts of aliens and bunnie and other toys he had won into her arms. You kept your prize wrapped around your neck, wanting to keep that one for yourself.

“What?” She gasped as she had to hand Wednesday her funnel cake, the ravenette begrudgingly taking it.

“See you!” Your voice was caught in the wind as Ajax had grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers with his as he pulled you along. It really didn’t matter if you two were late, but Ajax always liked being early to snag some of the snacks Yoko made before everyone else could. You were definitely sure it was for when he needed munchies.

Nightshades Library.

Snap, snap!

The Edgar Allen Poe statue opened itself to you and Ajax, the metal creaking itself into placed with a final thud of the open door. Ajax allowed you in first, before stepping in himself. The doorway closed behind you two with another thud, and your senses began to fill with light music. You squinted in the darkness, seeing the dim lighting of the Nightshades library at the bottom of the steps. Slowly making your way down, you were met with all your friends already talking and eating and dancing. You two were definitely late.

“Well, well. Where were you two lovebirds?” Yoko had noticed you two first as she was closest to the stairs by the makeshift bar already preparing a few drinks.

“Someone lost track of the time because he was too excited by normie games.” You raised your hand to point at Ajax, not realizing you were still holding his hand. Immediately you slipped your hand from his, warmth enveloping your face. He took that as his cue to leave, grabbing a few snacks from Yoko and saying hello before making his way to Xavier.

“He still hasn’t picked up on it, has he?” She took a sip of her Bloody Mary, and you knew that absolutely wasn’t tomato juice filling it.

“Nope,” You grabbed a pretzel from the snack bowls, making yourself comfortable on the barstool in front of her. “But I don’t mind, it’s not like I want him to know anyway.”

“Gods, you both are dense.” You heard Kent’s voice pull up next to you.

“Honestly, Y/N, have you considered he likes you too?” And there was Divina in the other seat. Great, now you were surrounded. You huffed jokingly before greeting the two. Thankful you didn’t need to see an optometrist from how much you rolled your eyes at their idiotic quips.

“Yoko, make me a glass of whatever. I’m gonna need something if these two keep pestering me tonight.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. Kent exaggerated a gasp, mouth agape with eyes wide as if you were accusing him. You attempted to flick the pretzel you were holding at him, but unfortunately he had expected it.

“You don’t see me pestering you about the snake plushie around your neck, but please, keep accusing me.” Divina took a sip of her drink. You looked down at the stuffed prize, removing it from your neck before setting it upon the table with a boop on its nose. You smiled, remembering how Ajax had cheered you on and held you close and picked you up.

“Long Island Iced Tea.” Yoko set down a tall glass in front of you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You looked at the drink before looking at her.

“You really just threw everything in here, didn’t you?” You took a sip, feeling the alcohol down your throat.

“I emphasize amateur when I say I’m a mixologist, don’t I?” She shrugged. “Now tell us about this, did he win it for you?” She poked it with a stirring stick.

“Leave Gerald alone, and no, I won it!” You shooed the stick away. All three of them winced at the name.

“Definitely seems like there’s a lot more to it than that.” Divina giggled. “Also, Gerald is a terrible name. Please pick a new one.”

“Well…” You remembered Ajax’s apathy to the game master calling you his partner, either that or he wasn’t paying attention. He didn’t deny you were, though. Thinking about it, he probably really did seem like your boyfriend to onlookers. Holding your hand 24/7, dragging you to booths, winning you prizes, not correcting the game master, the works. You just wish it were real.

You sighed deeply before taking a big swig of your drink, not caring for the burn it left. Kent and Divina gave each other a look before lifting you from your chair.

“You are going to be going through these way too quickly if we don’t do something about it.” Kent took your now empty cup away from you before handing it to Yoko. The latter stuck her tongue out at the boy before sticking it in a bin filled with other cups.

“Why don’t we get your mind off things?” Divina hummed. “How about a dance?” She spun you onto the dance floor. You couldn’t tell if you were already feeling the buzz of the alcohol or if you genuinely wanted to dance, but you swayed along to the music anyway. Bianca noticing your presence, spun to dance with you as well. It was an easy rhythm to get lost into, and you hate to admit Ajax was right about the party being fun.

The night went on for awhile, you kept switching between drinking and dancing and talking. It wasn’t very long before you were drunk, Yoko had to cut you off because you could not get back to your dorm like this. She was with you this time on the dance floor, vibing to the song that was on. You couldn’t help but feel a pair of eyes on you. Twisting to the beat, you turn to see Ajax eyeing you from his spot on the couch with Xavier. You practically hadn’t seen him all night, which was odd considering he’d usually dance as well. He sat with his legs open comfortably, an arm resting upon his leg as the other was brought up to take a hit of his joint. He then handed it to Xavier before puffing out the smoke in fancy rings. Maybe it was you or maybe it was the alcohol talking but he looked, to say the least, hot.

“Jax!” You called out to him from your spot on the floor. His attention turned from his conversation to you, eyes softening as his gaze met yours. Your heart skipped a beat, and well, fuck it. You were making your way over to him. Not like you could control much of your movements anyway, your brain and body were on two different hemispheres. Both working opposite of each other, but definitely somehow working because you slumped down next to Ajax.

“You seem to be having fun.” He hummed, inviting you with an open arm. He rested it around your shoulder, pulling you close as you leaned into him exhausted from dancing.

“Are you, Jax?” You reached up to hold his face with your hand. The position incredibly intimate as his face was mere centimeters from your own. For a moment, there was an unrecognizable look in his eyes. He pulled away slightly, letting out an awkward cough. Your expression twisted into a pout.

“Are you not enjoying yourself?” You tilted your head. His lips tugged into a downward smile, shaking his head no.

“I am having fun, just worried about you. Seems like you’ve had too much to drink.” Removing his arm from your shoulder, he adjusted himself to face you. You whined at the loss of contact, but he suddenly cupped your face within both his hands. Your heart skipping another beat as you stared into his mesmerizing eyes.

“You’re a bit warm, I’m going to get you some water.” You leaned your head against the back of the couch as he pulled away from you. Closing your eyes, you let your thoughts take over. Drowning out the noise, you indeed did feel warm. Had it really been the alcohol or had it been Ajax’s proximity? It was getting harder and harder to deny that you loved him more than you thought you did.

“Here,” A hand lifted your head carefully as a cold glass was brought to your lips. Your eyes fluttered open, remembering where you were. Ajax held the cup as you took sips, feeling the water begin to cool you off. He set the glass down on the table before turning his attention back to you.

“I’m thinking I should get you back to your dorm, let’s call it a night.” You could only nod your head in approval, not wanting your words to betray you. Every nerve in your body concentrated on his skin on yours, lifting you from your spot on the couch.

“I’m gonna get Y/N to back to the dorms, they’ve had too much I think.” You could only hum goodbye with a wave to your friends as Ajax dragged you up the steps. It wasn’t particularly hard to get to your dorm, but man, were you exhausted. The hard part was getting you into your bed.

“Jax, have I ever told you how much I love you?” You murmured as he was adjusting your head on your pillow. It was dim in your room, but you could see the color in his face shift. You never used such strong words like ‘love’ around him, and especially not about him. It was always “I love this ice cream” or “Jax, you’re my best friend but you’re a dumbass.” never “I love you” which surprised him.

“You’ve had too much to drink, Y/N. You’re not thinking straight.” He pulled the blanket over your figure. You grabbed the bottom of his jacket, stopping him in his tracks.

“No, I really love you.” You hiccuped. “You’re so sweet, and caring, even though you can be so dense. You always do that thing when you wrap your arm around my shoulder and give it a squeeze when you greet me that makes my heart flutter. You also have the prettiest eyes ever, so warm like I can get lost in them. I have to tell your moms how much of a good son they raised. They’re so cool for that.” If you were sober, none of these thoughts would have been vocalized, but clearly you weren’t.

Ajax stopped momentarily before reaching for your hand, removing it from his jacket and returning it to your side. He attempted to pull away, but you kept your grip on his.

“Jax, stay with me please.” You pleaded. He smiled before sitting at the side of your bed, leaning to make sure your temperature wasn’t too high with the back of his other hand.

“Why won’t you say anything back?” You breathed out, head starting to spin. The room was dim and only the moonlight illuminated you two.

“Because you are not in your right mind right now, and as much as I love you back, this should not be how this happens.” He looked at you solemnly. It was undeniable that he loved you back, but he’d rather have heard it when you were ready, not when alcohol had consumed you.

“Now, get some rest.” He gave you a small forehead kiss, you could even feel one of his snakes give you one as well. You nodded, half paying attention as you drifted off. Ajax carefully leaning every now and then to adjust your blanket or make sure you weren’t too hot.

“Jax?” You called out, to which he hummed in response.

“I never got cotton candy at the Harvest Festival.”

#ajax petropolus x reader #ajax petropolus #wednesday netflix #wednesday (2022) #georgie farmer #ajax petropolus imagine #ajax petropolus one shot

[bogkeep]

it was always a strange dichotomy. every middle school classmate i had told me i'd be a millionaire when i grew up, a Famouse Artisté. it's easy enough to imagine as a teen, i suppose: skill equals fame equals money. i was doubtful about this prophecy, not because i wasn't confident in my ability to draw, but because it was hard to imagine a world where i'd be paid for it.

it was an ice breaker game at summer camp. horrible one, really - everyone in a group were given a character profile. now we had to imagine that it was the zombie apocalypse, and the helicopter to safety was two seats short and we had argue why we deserved a spot. the character i got was an asshole doctor of some kind. i don't remember if i argued my way into the helicopter or not, but i do remember the feeling that's been hanging over me my entire life - if the apocalypse happens right now, i have nothing to contribute.

there's something really painful about it. i have cultivated a skill for my whole life, i can make art and tell stories that are entirely unique to me, there is no way to get someone else to create in the exact same way i can, and yet - i've contributed more to capitalist society by sitting in an empty hotel reception for eight hours a day.

which made me develop anxiety, to boot.

i illustrated two children's books. they're some of my best work. the contract i signed was industry standard and the indie author who had hired me was incredibly kind... but even after stock sold out i had earnt little more than some pocket change.

in high school we had an outing to dig our own snow caves that we would spend the night in. in teams, thankfully. i have so little physical strength to speak of, most i could do to help was clear away the snow rubble and toss it outside. i know, i know, my classmates reassured me it was an important job to do, i was an invaluable member of the group, sure - but it's that feeling, you know?

what would my task be in the communist solarpunk commune?

a person cannot be useless. it's a human being. they just exist, no ifs and buts about it. one can only be useless in the eyes of an ableist, capitalist society that sees no value in being alive beyond production and profit.

sometimes i receive messages from internet strangers to tell me something i said - often several years ago - was helpful to them. maybe it was a throwaway comment on a forum. maybe it was replying to a question they could've googled the answer to. maybe it was an encouraging reply to someone's artwork. turns out it mattered to someone. huh.

of course you can learn new skills. i have learnt plenty over the years! i have also learnt that there are limitations to what i can do. that some of the obstacles i face are not in fact obstacles everyone faces. it's not that i can't break tasks into smaller steps, it's more that half of those steps are going to be "rinse your hands because you Touched a Thing and now you're going to have to touch Another Thing." i wonder if that's adding to my cognitive load or something.

i was never raised to be a man, so by all accounts i do not understand why i'm so haunted by the spectre of toxic masculinity - what would i do if i was a medieval peasant and a war broke out? what if i was in a pre-historic hunter gatherer society and i was expected to hunt? what if i was a humble farm boy discovering the sword of the chosen one and the world depended on my non-existing courage to face certain death?

look, it's stupid. these are not scenarios i will find myself in. besides, pre-historic humans depended on community and taking care of each other. that's how we survive.

i'm not useless and i decided to make peace with being useless anyway.

we're surrounded by digital clocks. we can't really escape them. do we need watchmakers? would they save me a spot in the zombie apocalypse helicopter? no, don't answer that. i'm just happy i found something that requires a light touch and an observant eye.

#too long for twitter #I AM NOT ASKING FOR ADVICE I AM JUST MUSING AND WRITING A BLOG POST FOR THE JOY OF WRITING BLOG POSTS #not mentioned: the bachelors degree in art history i took to procrastinate with my life. #i would love to work as an illustrator still. if the opportunity to do so comfortably comes along i will take it #but im also happy to pursue my passion in my free time as something that belongs to me #number one question im asked whenever i tell someone i go to watchmaker school is 'BUT DO YOU STILL DRAW??' #it's like asking if i still breathe. yes! i still do the thing that makes me feel alive #it's just. we live in a world that's hostile to Live Comfortably and Pursue Creative Passions at the same time #and a society that can be so largely dismissive of art sometimes; all the while consuming it en masse #ah you probably get it. you dont need me to tell you

[amethystfairy1]

For TT, can we have a bit more info about mer culture and where Scott is coming from before he ended up on the old continent? I absolutely love the way you write hybrids, and how much effort you put into the world building of their background and cultures and behaviours. Oooh also, while I'm asking questions, do the hybrids in TT have courtship the way they do in TTSBC? Because that one is somewhat relevant for a few of them.

Oooooooo ok sure!

Let's break down Mer Culture in Traveling Thieves yayyyy!

First of all, the Mer Kingdom and Mer culture is matriarchal! Scott is the son of the Queen of the Mer and one of her concubines/performers. The Queen and other powerful women of noble standing typically have multiple husbands and also there is a very strong courtly culture of performance, and the role of the concubine is very influential in this society. However, this is where the sort of stigma against Siren Spells comes from! Scott inherited his abilities for water magic from his Mom, the magic of the royal bloodline is very powerful which is why Scott is also very powerful and natural with water magic! He inherited his ability to use Siren Spells from his Dad, but Siren Spells are seen as something only used by concubines/performers...it's not something befitting of a royal child, even an illegitimate one like Scott.

Speaking of! If we're talking about Scott and his upbringing, I want to get rid of any notions I'm sure people are assuming that because he was an illegitimate child he was treated poorly, he wasn't! He had a lot of half-siblings and all of them got along decently well, and his parents also had a reasonably healthy and cooperative relationship! Scott was still excluded sometimes, for example he wasn't allowed to show his face at courtly proceedings or performances, but some of his older siblings would occasionally help him hide in the curtains or something so he could watch his Dad perform!

Scott wasn't allowed to practice Siren Spells, because his Mom raised him, as she did all of her male children, to eventually be married off or take up political posts, and both of Scott's parents agreed it would be better for his prospects if no one ever knew that he was capable of using Siren Spells. That doesn't stop him from sneaking off to practice them in secluded areas, but he never received any official training so that's why he's pretty bad with them.

Also also! I wanna describe the Mer Kingdom a bit! Because while I do plan to do some flashbacks from Scott's POV I'm not entirely sure if we'll ever actually go there within the timeline of Traveling Thieves.

Basically think Lizzie's Empires S1 base 😆

AND BEFORE YOU ASK NO LIZZIE IS NOT THE OCEAN QUEEN IN THIS SHE IS NOT SCOTTS MOM NO WE AREN'T DOING THAT 😭

It's just that her base inspires how I think of the Mer Kingdom, like a bunch of towers that emerge from the water but are constructed both above and below water. Also it is within a series of atolls and coral reefs so lots of small islands are all around too. While the Mer can breathe underwater all of their homes and such are watertight and so while they swim place to place when they're inside it's dry and they breathe air, so it's not like Atlantis-style or anything. A lot of buildings are also on top of the islands or build from the shallower ocean shelf and then rising up out of the water. With the Royal Palace being right in the middle of the largest atoll of course!

Scott, as you might've been able to guess, perhaps, from what he said when Jimmy said he was in love with him, was running away from an arranged marriage. And the sad part was it wasn't even technically a marriage. Again, Scott is an illegitimate child, he's the son of the Queen, yes, but he's not a prince. He was raised like one, educated like one, and more or less treated like one with a few exceptions (like how he couldn't attend court) but he is not a prince.

That means by Mer societal convention he can't marry high-class nobility. So the noblewoman he's arranged with, he's technically meant to go be one of her concubines, similar to how his own Father is to his Mother. That doesn't necessarily mean anything sexual by default, but it does basically relegate him to being passed around for his pretty face and his bloodline. It would be a pretty luxurious life, all things considered, and he was also raised fairly spoiled all his life, but even still...Scott's not the type who would just pliantly go along with being a pawn for his Mother to use politically. Plus it really pisses him off because after all these years of being told to hide the fact he could use Siren Spells like his Father and not being allowed to practice them, or learn how to perform like his Father does, all of a sudden his Mother decides to give him away as a concubine instead of marrying him to someone within the mid-tier of courtly society whom Scott would actually be allowed to wed. Scott in this AU really looks up to his Dad, and he also looks very very similar to him, much more so than his Mother, which is also why he's desired for his beauty even amongst Mer. His Dad is the Queen's favorite performer, so you can imagine he's gorgeous as well, and yet after living his whole life being told he had to distance himself from being seen as similar to his Father, all of a sudden he's expected to become a concubine just like him? Without any of the training or practice or skills that his Father has? That's ridiculous! So yeah, Scott was furious and he and his mother had it out in a terrible fight.

Last thing on this! I wanna make it clear that this doesn't mean Scott hates his mother or even has a bad relationship with her! He was actually on very good terms with her, which made the news that he was going to be given away as a concubine all the more shocking. So he took off in the middle of the night after this fight with nothing but the clothes on his back...he wasn't necessarily planning on running away for good, he was just upset and trying to get away and get some space to collect this thoughts, but he went a little too close to the mainland shore, to close to the waters where humans trawl, and...well, we know what happened to him from there.

As for courting ritual, they don't have them in Traveling Thieves the way that they do in TTSBC! It's more that they have certain things that require a level of intimacy, not necessarily romantic obviously, so if a hybrid lets you do it, it's a strong sign that they trust you and believe you care about them. Examples of this being: Preening Avians wings or brushing a dog hybrids hair!

Hope this was fun for ya! Sorry for the long turn-around on this ask, I wanted to really think about it and make sure I gave ya a good response that was lined up with the AU! 💖

#fanfic #ao3 fanfic #traffic smp #worldbuilding #traveling thieves au #dark fantasy #scott smajor #empires smp

[betterbooktitles]

What makes a Jesuit boys’ school so entertaining is the irreverence in the face of certain damnation. There were adult authority figures, some imbued with the ability to forgive Mortal Sin, telling us we were going to Hell if we didn’t take our morality seriously. In response, we laughed and cracked jokes. We laughed so hard, in part, because the stakes were so high. If you could mock the Most Important Question, you could likely laugh off anything.

Humor was what opened me up to the idea that I didn’t share the values of the men teaching me to be a “good” person. Humor also taught me that I didn’t have to accept any of it.

The first time I heard shade thrown at the Theology department was during my freshman year when my favorite teacher sitting in a room in the fourth floor English department, in an entirely separate building from the Theology and History classrooms asked “what movie are they showing you over there this week?” It was true that for half the year, Theology teachers showed movies 40 minutes at a time to make important philosophical points. They screened The Matrix, Life is Beautiful (watched in tandem with our reading of Man’s Search for Meaning), and, my personal favorite The Shawshank Redemption which they showed to us in the summer before 9th grade to let us know what Jesuit school would resemble: something close to surviving solitary confinement. If you had music in your mind, you might make it out. I don’t doubt the efficacy of showing these movies to us to teach moral lessons. It was a better strategy than trying to force teenagers to read. I had never heard anyone mock the department, though, especially not another teacher.

To be clear, this scrutiny, at least of the lay teachers in the Theology department was justified. They fed us one-sided anti-intellectual drivel that had almost nothing to do with Catholic Dogma. Instead of learning about a biblical text, we spent hours listening to a guy tell us evolution was “just a theory,” that being gay was a choice, and that abortion was wrong in any instance (whatever your personal beliefs, understand that it’s kind of hard to hear both sides of that argument at an all-male school where the adult men were the authority on ethics). Then they showed us clips from Fox News of Terri Schiavo and told us the “correct” Christian response to the news.

One day, again in my freshman year when I was scared to question anything because of an inordinate fear that I could be thrown out of school at any moment, our Theology teacher pressed play on The Emperor’s Club (a 2002 Kevin Kline movie about a boy’s prep school that served in our teacher’s mind as some ethic antithesis to the more beloved (and frankly more entertaining) Dead Poets Society). A student in the back row raised his hand, and our teacher paused the movie. We sat in the dark room and rolled our eyes. Make this quick, buddy. We’ve got a movie to watch here!

“Jeff?” our teacher said, lifting his eyebrows.

“Yes, I was wondering about the prayer we read before class today,” Jeff said. He was a senior, a bit portly which was only noticeable because many kids did not bother buying new dress shirts every year. Once the stress of school forced you to eat your feelings four years in a row, you wound up with a gut putting pressure on your old shirts’ buttons. “It says in the prayer…” Jeff continued, “that Jesus descended into Hell. What’s that about?” 

“Well,” our teacher said, looking excited to finally talk about religion instead of answering some weird kid’s question about the ethics of having sex with aliens should they ever land on Earth, “according to scripture, we know the gates of Heaven were closed for a time, so when Jesus died he descended into hell first to free other righteous souls…”

“Yeah, a quick follow-up on that,” Jeff said, sounding interested, “does anyone believe this shit?” 

The cackles that erupted in the room nearly overwhelmed our teacher’s angry tirade. Jeff was sent to the Vice Principal’s office to await his judgment. It hadn’t occurred to me until that moment you were allowed not only to question those teaching us about religion but you were allowed to reject the faith altogether. 

From there, every argument began to collapse, mostly through funny moments:

A teacher tried to tell us IVF was wrong because “you have to jerk off into a cup. It’s not right.” One kid announced: “I’ve done weirder!” Guffaws. Cheers.

Another teacher claimed gay sex was always wrong because the sex itself was not ‘open to creating human life,’ to which a brave gay student volunteered “Oh, I’m open to it. I’ll keep trying and let you know if there’s a miracle.” Applause. 

When a teacher said video games could be considered a sin if they distract you from work, someone, half-asleep in the front row, let out a loud “Ah, shut up!” that made us all giggle.

My fellow students weren’t playing the game, arguing with the teacher on his terms, using logic. They were dismissing the arguments flippantly, and no adult could reply unless they were funny themselves. 

Read the rest here.

#funny #lit #lol #writing #dan wilbur #essays #essay #long post #long reads #atheist #atheism #religion #catholic #catholic school #literature #humor #better book titles #books #reading #memoir

[geeks-universe]

Kiss of Death pt. 2

Anthony Bridgerton x Assassin!Reader

Society has certain expectations of you. If only they knew of your nighttime activities…

Breakfast was being served when he managed to properly dress himself and greet his family. They were all chatting amongst themselves with various degrees of entertainment and annoyance. Still, the sight of his family so content warmed his heart.

“Your family is very sweet.”

Anthony jumped, surprised at the sudden intrusion beside him. You were giving him a gentle look, seemingly expecting such a reaction. He wasn’t entirely sure how you managed to walk so quietly, nor why, despite it being the morning, exhaustion was still present on your features.

“Goodmorning, Viscount.” You smiled, and he returned it without so much as a thought. “Apologies for frightening you.”

“Your highness,” Daphne called politely, pulling your attention off of Anthony.

“Formalities,” you tutted, walking towards the breakfast table with a noticeable limp. Anthony considered himself decent at reading people, so when he hastily scanned your face, he couldn’t help but notice the slight grimace at each step.

“It is your home, and I like to think we shall become great friends,” you proclaimed, taking a seat between Colin and Eloise. “Please, call me (Y/N).”

Daphne paused, a lifetime of proper manners battling your most recent request.

“(Y/N),” she repeated, testing the name.

It brought a smile to your lips.

“You-” One look from you stopped Benedict in his tracks, causing him to momentarily frown. “(Y/N),” he tried again slowly, “Is your leg quite alright?”

Your hand, which had been outstretched towards a delightful looking pastry, froze.

“All the traveling, I’m afraid.”

You were an exceptionally good liar. Unfortunately, it came with the territory. The Bridgertons weren’t particularly a family you wanted to lie to, especially since your mother spoke so fondly of them, but you had a reputation to uphold, and your short time in London couldn’t be interrupted because you decided to tell them the truth of your visit.

“Shall you accompany us to this afternoon’s picnic?” Violet Bridgerton asked, quick to change the subject. “It seems to be a lovely day today.”

You would never truly understand the intricacies of London’s societal expectations for women. Questions, curiosity, intrigue- they never offended you, least of all when they were genuine inquiries. London, however, had other opinions. Women were to be quiet, unobtrusive to the point of submission. The environment you were raised in, and still actively participated in, was quite different. Perhaps you could share some of your experiences in the time you had residing in the city.

“The fresh air would be good for me,” you agreed, watching as the eldest Bridgerton finally took his place at the head of the table. He didn’t seem to be too interested in the food before him, instead focusing on you.

“However, there are a great deal of matters I must attend to today. I shall not miss tomorrow eve’s ball though.”

The disappointment on Daphne’s face was obvious.

Anthony, however, took the opportunity to interject.

“Surely your father manages your business affairs, does he not?”

You were sure it wasn’t meant to be rude, really, but still, a bit of fire sparked in your veins.

“My father,” you answered tightly, “has given me jurisdiction over half of the family’s business.”

If Anthony noticed your sudden iciness, he gave it no thought. Eloise, however, was looking decidedly more interested at the sudden change of pace.

“Half?” Anthony echoed, his eyes widened in surprise. “But you… you’re…”

The words were not coming to him, and just as the Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton made a move to speak up, you did instead.

“A woman?”

His gaze was locked onto yours, hardened from years of enduring similar questions from the many foreign lands you’d been lucky enough to visit.

He didn’t need to confirm that’s what he was speaking of, and when he offered no explanation, you continued.

“Perhaps it is too novel of a concept for society to understand that intellect does not discriminate, only institutions, and I was fortunate enough to be blessed with both.”

The laughter forced from Eloise’s throat was enough to pull your gaze from Lord Bridgerton’s. The thickness of tension in the air was beginning to dissipate, and you allowed your muscles to relax a fraction.

Colin awkwardly cleared his throat.

“Have you traveled often for this business?”

It was a kind question, and one spoken with wonder in his voice.

“Very often,” you confirmed lightly, placing the unfinished pastry back onto the small plate before your seat.

Your father would’ve had your head if he’d known you had gotten barely a wink of sleep the night before, and now you were practically skipping breakfast. The wicked certainly do not rest, and neither should you.

“I would love to discuss it further when I am afforded more time, however I must take my leave. Good day.”

Their goodbyes were quiet, save Eloise’s, whose was more than enthusiastic. Anthony watched you leave with a scowl, irritated with the direction that the conversation had taken. He had never had a lady, especially one with such high standing, speak to him in such a manner.

“Next time you decide to have a battle of wits at the breakfast table, please make sure your opponent is not a princess,” Violet Bridgerton huffed, pushing away from the table and leaving the rest of the family to the aftermath.

Eloise could no longer hold in the laughter that had plagued her since your comment. Anthony, however, was finding it annoying more than endearing.

“Brother, please do not insult our guest, she is to be my friend for the social season and I do not wish for you to spoil that.”

Daphne was elated that she could have someone to confide in for the remainder of the season. Perhaps, she would even be able to learn of some new fashion from the princess.

“That,” Benedict nodded, “Or just save yourself the embarrassment of the princess’s quick wit.”

He, too, found the situation amusing. The eldest Bridgerton boy sighed, excusing himself from the table as well without a word.

He would spend the rest of his day at the club. Then, maybe he could find some respite from annoying princesses who find amusement in turning his family against him.

The club was full of recognizable gentlemen, all of which were likely hiding away from their beloved wives. For once, Anthony could empathize with them, hoping to spend the remainder of the day conversing with men about business, or news, or quite literally anything besides the princess that had landed in his family home.

“Viscount Bridgerton,” Lord Walden greeted him.

He had never been particularly close to the older man, but his current mood made him desperate for a mindful conversation.

“Lord Walden,” he returned the sentiment, grabbing a glass of scotch from one of the trays making its way around the room. “How are you today?”

“I suspect, not as well as you,” Lord Walden chuckled softly, twiddling with a paper in his hand.

Curiously, Anthony grabbed it, scanning the contents with haste.

Dearest gentle readers,

It seems the London elite are being blessed with a rare, but influential addition. Princess (Y/N) Lancaster has arrived in the city, and with talks of finding a suitor worthy of the grand title, this author is sure she will soon make her first appearance among the other lovely eligible debutantes. The Princess of Windhaven has been covered in a shroud of mystery, one that I shall find most pleasing to unwrap. While a Princess is a grand prize indeed, it is worth remembering that she is the only heir of King Aldrich Lancaster and the late Queen Astrae Lancaster. Perhaps, some should wish the King himself had been the one to escort her, as she will be staying with the Bridgerton family for the foreseeable future, and if Viscount Bridgerton is half as attentive to the young Princess as he is his own sister, there is a likely chance that no gentleman will have the privilege of taking her hand in marriage.

“A Princess, how exciting!”

What had begun as a twitch of annoyance had quickly developed into genuine anger towards the woman who had been so quick to argue with him earlier.

“Very,” Anthony drawled sarcastically, pressing the paper back into Lord Walden’s hands.

“I’ve entirely forgotten about a meeting I have, excuse me while I tend to it.”

The excuse was flimsy, anyone who actually knew Anthony could tell it was a lie, but Lord Walden only bid him “good day” and turned back to Lady Whistledown’s article. Anthony all but stomped his way out of the club, and directly towards the opera, not even bothering to greet anyone he passed.

He was in desperate need of a distraction and something to boost his mood. Luckily, Siena offered both. His arrangement with Siena was one that could not last, he had duties as a Viscount that he had acknowledged, but he wanted to enjoy it a little while longer while he still could. Perhaps that was selfish of him, but he chose not to fret over the semantics for the time being.

“Siena!” Anthony called, spotting her just as she was leaving the opera.

She startled, surprised at his very public, very sudden intrusion. Even at the height of their… “relations”, he had never been so forthright in public. And, unwilling to let herself be swayed by sweet words and empty promises, she walked faster, as fast as publicly acceptable.

Anthony Bridgerton was on a mission though, and she had only made it an alleyway over before he was pulling at her wrist, gentle pleas on his tongue.

“My lord,” she bit out, forcing herself to instead stare at the speckled brick on the side of the old orphanage that had recently been repurposed as a venue for London’s high society. “I am very busy today, please let me be.”

Anthony paused, cautiously letting her hand go, but not moving an inch.

“Siena, I-”

“Don’t,” she sighed, pulling her hand into her chest. “Please, don’t.”

Guilt was beginning to gnaw at his heart. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her, but it was his duty as a Viscount. Surely she could see it that way? She could understand why society would never allow them to be anything more than a Lord and his mistress?

“Listen, I-”

His words failed him as he caught sight of a now familiar pair of eyes. Your gaze was piercing, like the very truth of his soul was laid before you, left for you to sift through as you pleased. His heart thumped faster in his chest, a reminder that he was still on the physical plane.

“What are you looking at?” Siena had turned around, curious as to what his sudden distraction was, only to find him staring at you.

The pain she’d felt had increased tenfold, acting as a reminder of why she was stupid to trust a rake with her heart to begin with. She fled from his sight, unsurprised to find he hadn’t even noticed when she did so, too focused on you.

“Princess,” Anthony muttered under his breath.

He wasn’t sure how it was possible, how your eyes were able to see so much with such a quick scan, but you’d already begun to retreat from him before he ever noticed you. He followed at a distance, hoping to catch up to you before you decided to abandon him completely.

It was difficult to keep track of you through the throngs of people, and he could barely catch a glimpse of your hair or a flash of your clothes before you disappeared again. This game of cat and mouse was getting him nowhere, as he followed the faintest whiff of your presence to a secluded, nearly hidden, passageway.

He sighed, staring down the empty cobblestone, frustrated.

“It’s impolite to follow people, you know?”

He jumped at the sudden intrusion, instinctively raising an elbow to hit what he was only able to presume to be an attacker. By the time he realized it was you, it was too late to stop his momentum.

You, however, moved far quicker than him, easily dodging his sloppy attack.

“I didn’t think a disagreement would warrant a fight, Lord Bridgerton.”

He gave you a wry smile.

“Apologies, princess,” he acknowledged. “Perhaps you will stop sneaking up on me.”

“Well, my dearest Anthony,” his heart skipped a beat at the way you cherished each syllable of his name, “Perhaps you will not follow me.”

The corners of his lips turned up, doing so without a conscious effort.

“Why might a lady of your station be wandering near this part of London?”

It was a fair question.

Anthony was cataloging every notable thing about your appearance.

One, you weren’t in any extravagant gown. In fact, what you were wearing could hardly be deemed appropriate for a woman of high society. It was far too dark for anything besides mourning, and the ensemble was clearly designed to unrestrict movement, as opposed to displaying your finer assets. Two, you did not wear gloves. You did, however, wear leather bracers just below, that reminded him more of armor than anything. Three, your hair had fallen some from its intricate updo, likely from whatever exertion caused the reddening of your cheeks.

“Business, not pleasure,” you assured him, a teasing lilt in your tone. “The same could not be said for you though, could it?”

Siena.

He’d completely ignored her existence in his curiosity, and he knew that his actions would make mending that particular relationship all the harder.

“That was not-”

“You do not owe me any explanation.”

There was no judgment in your eyes, nor any disgust. In fact, Anthony could almost describe your expression as understanding.

“I am sorry for my insinuations earlier this morning.”

Anthony was not a man who apologized often, and he surprised even himself with how easy it was to admit to his lapse in judgment.

“I am as well,” you relented, unconsciously tucking loose hair behind your ear. “I have grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle, and while I hope that one day a similar mindset will be adopted by all, I cannot expect it to be done so if I am quick to anger.”

Comfortable silence fell between the two of you, and Anthony finally had a moment to admire you. The harsh rays of the sun were tempered by the glow of your cheeks, a soft smile tugging at your lips. Your lashes casted a shadow as you observed him just a closely, a warmth burning low in his belly at the care you took to examine him. It was difficult to pinpoint exactly what you were thinking, but he noted the fair bit of approval shining in your eyes.

There was a tenseness about you still, like you had to remain focused on your surroundings, not just the man in front of you. Anthony wondered if it was instinctual, the way you always seemed to have that air about you.

“While it certainly has been a pleasure, I must return to my business.”

Anthony inclined his head, catching your hand with his own before you had the opportunity to turn away. The warmth exuding from you sent a pleasant tingle down his spine. The feeling intensified as he pressed his lips to your soft skin, his eyes seeking yours unconsciously.

“Your highness,” he whispered, mouth still dangerously close to your hand. After a brief second, he corrected himself. “(Y/N).”

He watched as your chest rose and fell, your tongue wetting your lips as you said, “Anthony,” on an exhale.

The word burned through his sensibility, setting his heart aflame.

You nodded your head and left quickly, abandoning him to the fire you’d lit inside of him. He stood there for a moment, staring at the cobblestone, rationalizing the encounter in his own mind.

After a moment, he sighed, closing his hand into a fist, and returning the way he came.

Tag List: @mysticwitchcraftco

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x reader

[bellarkeselection]

1923 Spencer dutton

Before going to the war Spencer and you have a one night stand five months later you show up at the duttons crying because the towns people run you out of town you write a letter to Spencer and tell him your pregnant and he doesn't have to marry you because it was just a one night stand it meant nothing but you actually love Spencer unknown to you he feels the same

A lifetime of Lovin' You

Spencer Dutton and I weren't in a serious relationship when we finally kissed. No we were the opposite of the typical people in our lives. Especially five months ago before he went off to fight in the on going war. Spencer pressed my back against the soft bed mattress never breaking the heated kiss. He placed his hands on either side of me hearing me moan breaking the kiss. "If I die in the war this wouldn't be a bad last memory to have. What made you think of doing something like this?"

When he had asked me that question I wasn't really in my right state of mind. He was obviously attractive that was clear but that wasn't why I was attracted to him. Running my hands over his bare chest I leaned up wrapping my arms around his neck flipping him on his back with my hair falling in front of both our faces. "If I told you I don't think you'd feel the same way. So let's just say this is a one night stand thing cowboy."

He moved one hand up brushing my hair back running his fingers through my locks. I moaned when he tugged on it lightly where I tugged him closer rocking my hips against his hearing him moan too. Spencer rolled us over slowly kissing me at the same time when he enters me making love to me where I closed my eyes living in that memory everytime I fall asleep especially when I discovered that I was pregnant. Sitting down at a table in my house I sighed reading the letter address to him outloud to myself running my freehand over my almost fully grown stomach. "Dear Spencer, I lied to you when we slept together. I said there wasn't a reason as to why I wanted to be with you. The truth is I'm pregnant with your child and I love you too. I was just afraid that you didn't feel the same way. You don't have to come home after the war if you are alive. I don't want to pin you down to something if you don't feel the same way. I just thought you should know, your friend Y/n."

I sent the letter a few months ago with the one his aunt Cara would send. Now I was just sitting on his family's front porch listening to the rain hit while she was getting ready for bed. Resting my hands on my stomach I was due in about two months from when I wrote the letter. Yet there hasn't been any response which didn't surprise me. I never expected him to fail for someone like me. Foosteps came outside the front door where I noticed it was Jacob. He removed his hat sitting down beside me on the swing. "I'm sorry about the town kicking you out for being pregnant before you were married."

"I didn't expect my parents to just throw me out the way that they did. The titles of high society and the low common rancher shouldn't matter if you truly love someone!" I spat towards the man who had given me a room in his house without hesitation. My family had quite more money than the Duttons and had expected to marry me off but I had been a lifelong friend of Spencer so I couldn't just burry my feelings away.

Jacob stared at me silently reaching across placing his hand over mine on my belly. "You will always have a home here, Y/n. Here it don't matter where you came from the Yellowstone takes care of your own when you take care of the land. That baby inside you is half Dutton so you will always belong here."

Shutting my eyes I leaned my head back just taking in the quiet sounds of the ranch slightly happy that I was going to raise a baby here. Jacob's hand moved from mine causing me to lean up and see that there was a horse and buggy coming our direction in the middle of the night which was rather strange. "Who on earth could that be in the middle of the night?" I asked myself walking across the porch leaning against one of the stone pillars not being able to tell who was walking towards us in the middle of the night.

Jacob quickly opened the front door calling to his wife Cara who handed him a shotgun where he came to stand directly at my side shouting out into the darkness. "Put your hands up, trustpasser and identify yourself before I blow your head off."

"Don't shoot its me!" The figure shouted coming closer to the edge of the stairs seeing that they had their hands raised but I still couldn’t make out who exactly it was. “Y/n, it’s me. It’s Spencer.”

His name slips past my lips where I started rushing down the stairs until I about fell so Jacob looped his arm through mine helping me down the rest of the way down. “Spencer?”

“Y/n, I got your letter. I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. But you should know that I feel the same way about you.” He blurted out when my eyes adjusted to the darkness locking onto his soft eyes that hadn’t left mine the entire time.

Blinking my eyes a couple times I slowly stepped towards him not believing what he was saying was actually true. I never imagined that he would fall for someone who was raised to be a lady of high society and he was raised to be a cowboy on a long generational ranch. “Are you being serious, Spencer. I don’t want you to have come all this way because I am pregnant. I can raise the baby on my own so that you don’t have to be tied down to something.”

“I’m being completely serious. I don’t know why you would think that I wouldn’t want to be with the girl who may be a proper lady but will run around like a crazy cowgirl and get dirty all the same. You will always do whatever is best for others like telling me that I didn’t have to come back here, but I do. Because I love you. I love you more than - fuck it.” He cut himself short stomping cupping my face in his hands crashing his lips onto mine.

There was light rain going on when I came down the stairs but now you could feel it pick up heavy but I didn’t care to go inside. Wrapping my arms around his neck I moaned into the kiss realizing how much I truly missed him. “Spencer…I love you too.” I rasped out breaking the kiss trying to catch my breath with our chest’s heaving up and down.

“You two better your asses inside if you don’t wish to catch a cold.” The front door,opened but we didn’t pay much mins to what his aunt Cara was saying to us.

Spencer wrapped his arms around my waist tugging me up against his chest as close as he possibly could. His eyes were so full of love when they focused on me where I leaned up on my toes wanting to jump up and wrap my legs around him but my pregnant belly wouldn’t allow me. Lifting my head up we were soaked from head to toe now but I ran a hand through his hair too focused on the cowboy in front of me. “She will come outside and kick both our sass if we don’t come inside you know that right.” I giggled sending him a bright smile.

“Oh don’t worry darlin’. I ain’t leaving your side for a second when we go inside that house.” He nuzzled his nose in the crook of my neck whispering in my ear. “In fact I’m gonna let you know that we probably aren’t gonna leave the bedroom until the baby is born. Because I’ve got a lot of time to make up on and too many sleepless nights of not lovin’ on you.”

“Spencer!” He scoped me up bridal style where I wrapped my arms around his neck squealing with him rushing up the stairs kicking open the bedroom door dropping me down on the bed hovering above me where I crashed my lips onto his hungrily.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#spencer dutton x reader #spencer dutton #brandon sklenar #1923 request #1923 #yellowstone 1923 #1923 yellowstone #1923 series #yellowstone #pregnant reader #spencer dutton x pregnant reader #ask box is open for anything #requests open #comments really appreciated

[writtenontheport]

Walk Me Home?

pt. 2: Tomorrow (pt. 1) (pt. 3) (pt. 4)

George Karim x (gn) Reader

Warnings/Tags: Meet cute (in part 1), getting to know each other, falling in love walking through gloomy London, George Karim is a silly guy, but he’s one of the best silly guys ever, Nerd Reader, No angst, light swearing, Lockwood and co friendships, I might be forgetting some tags whoops, mention of a creep creeping around the reader from the previous part, George’s recklessness is inspired by Lucy and Lockwood

Notes: I adore George, really, especially in the tv adaptation. I felt like I needed to say that, lovely guy. Forgot to add until now, there will be a part 3! This little series has become a comfort to me and I would love to write out their story

Summary: George takes you up on your offer to meet again, and after waking up late he finds it to have been a wonderful experience. Lucy and Lockwood begin trading details (mostly because George refuses to tell them about all the reckless things he’s been starting to do).

Typically, for junior agents, waking up in the early morning was as impossible as being able to clock out before sundown. Their line of work exposed them not only to the dangers of terrifying ghosts, the possible paralysis, and the high odds of death, but also to the detriment that is being made a night-owl in a world where most of society lives and breathes in the day. For those in Lockwood and co. this might mean missing out on the latest shipment of salt bombs and flares; or even missing out on a nice outing to the library with a would-be friend.

The latter of which, George happens to be doing right now.

“George!” Lucy yelps as she jumps to the wall of the main hall, George running past her. He yells a muffled apology through whatever’s sticking out his mouth and runs up the stairs.

“Everything alright?” Lockwood calls, popping his head out the kitchen. His cheeks are stuffed full of something he’s barely able to speak through.

“Yeah, fine. I don’t know about George though, is he alright?” She asks, corralling them both into the kitchen. The dining table’s all set, with a center serve bowl in the middle filling the air with something appetizing and delicious. She quickly settles down and helps herself to a good serving, seeing as George’s already put his plate away and Lockwood’s halfway through his.

“He’s meeting up with someone in the library, kept saying his alarm didn’t go off and ran about in a panic.” He swallows with a satisfied hum as a boyish smile paints his face. “Still made a banging breakfast though, that George.”

Lucy raises a brow at him, but chuckles in amusement. From somewhere above, they can hear George stomping about. It doesn’t worry Lucy, because he’s not stomping about in the way he does when he’s really panicked, so neither she nor Lockwood can step in or they might just make it worse by getting in the way. Really, Lockwood himself would go upstairs to calm George down if he’d made himself mad with worry.

“Is this the one he owes new shoes?” Lucy asks, putting down her spoon gently and throwing Lockwood a look. It’s now that she recalls what George had told her yesterday just as he walked in.

“He owes someone new shoes?”

At half past ten, George finally makes it to the library. He’s not dressed up or put together more than usual, in jeans, a loose t-shirt he’d likely borrowed from someone, and his windbreaker jacket. A messenger bag hangs off him, and tucked under his other arm are the books he’d taken out yesterday. Really, he looks like he fits right in with the ghouls and the haunts lurking about the library this early; scholars with little to no sleep and others simply looking for a place to do just that. He spots you easily after making his way to where he met you yesterday.

You’re just… sitting there, really, but he’s suddenly overtaken by nerves. It’s not the kind of nerves you might get from being ghost-locked, where you’re thrown into a torpor and left to die, but it’s not much easier to deal with. You’re sitting there looking the epitome of an obsessive scholar, hunched over a book and a notepad to the side, and he can’t help but feel like he wanted to be there right by you and just read every line and curve of your face. It’s embarrassing, really, but late to regret anything, as you look up and beam at him and suddenly the nerves are all gone.

“Come on over, George! Don’t just hang about!” You greeted just as he ambled. You had a pen in one hand hovering over a notepad while the other was carefully pressing a book open; truly caught between the lines and the pages, but still beaming at him so assuredly.

“You remembered where we sat,” he said, not really asking. Carefully settling himself down, he all but mirrored you in the way he was set up, eyeing your grin through his lashes.

Then you said, so softly he felt his heart might burst, “Of course I did, meeting you left quite the lasting impression, George.”

He swallows harshly, ducking his head into his book. “You’re not bad yourself.”

You both fall into a wordless, comfortable silence filled with only the distant sounds of the library that don’t reach. Every so often, you’d wordlessly trade a pen or share a note; make him smile or chuckle at a drawing you’d pass over. It reminded him of the thinking cloth back home, and somehow he felt like you’d fit right in with them.

Lucy and Lockwood would like you right away, even if they were skeptical and cautious people, because of your cunning wit and enchanting grin. That— He shakes the thought out of his head and glances back up at you. When your eyes meet, you do nothing but grin, and his heart keeps beating loudly in his ears.

Just as you’re both packing up to leave, he catches you looking over your shoulder with your eyes darting the whole room. He keeps packing, but once you’re both out the door, he simply asks, “That dick still bothering you?”

Sheepishly, you say, “Not as much, but… yeah.”

He decides something then, just as reckless as yesterday when he offers, “Want me to walk home with you?”

You grin, and he doesn’t think he could ever tire of the sight.

On the trip home, George is walking with you again even though where you live isn’t that close to Portland Row at all. He’d made an excuse about keeping you out of trouble, and you smiled so wide he felt that he had made the best decision of the day. Aside from keeping Lucy and Lockwood about his recklessness, anyways.

It’s easy conversation between the two of you, even when you put your research aside. George meant it when he told Lockwood and Lucy once that the Problem had defined their whole lives, that it loomed over them with a pressing hand. It loomed still, really. Curfew came up more than once, and you and George each had a go at your sharing your theories on the Problem. He talked himself near tired on the topic of ghost cults and their stupidity, and you brought up incident after incident in the long list of hauntings in London.

Somewhere along the line though, talk about Curfew and Visitors drifted into softer, warmer topics about the silliest things there were; what were his favourite colours? What were yours? If you could only eat one kind of cuisine for the rest of your life, what would it be? Those sorts of questions; the sort of questions you’d ask in another world where things aren’t so wrong.

George doesn’t know what to make of the fact that you bring this out of him, that something about you makes him wonder about a better world where the Problem hadn’t become the Problem. Along the streets of gloomy London with a timer ticking away elsewhere, George feels like he can already imagine a world where there wasn’t a single worry about the Visitors. All because he had you to ramble along with.

Soon you’d stumbled on the topic of your lives at home, what it was like for both of you where you lived. George found himself telling you all of the things he’d never thought about telling anyone before: how it endeared him when Lucy would stop by his room on hard days just to check up on him and was always ready in case he just needed someone who could listen, or how Lockwood sometimes tries to cook some of George’s favourite dishes just to return the favour even though he’s rubbish in the kitchen and couldn’t cook an egg to save his life.

“They sound lovely,” You say kindly, watching the light of warmth dance in his eyes. They don’t dim even when he turns to you, and you swear your heart stops when you see his lips curve into a gorgeous smile.

“They are. Annoying, but, I wouldn’t want to work anywhere else,” if I even could, he adds wordlessly. He really wouldn’t be able to tolerate anyone else but them… and maybe you. He turns away from you just as your house comes into view, the lights peeking like the sun passing the horizon at dawn. It makes him think about home at Portland Row.

You take a few steps up to the door, but turn back before you click it open. George’s eyes lock on yours, and though the breeze is cold hanging in the air, you feel your heart pounding against your ribs and your blood rushes faster. George doesn’t look away. You fumble for words, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, and George waits patiently.

“Would you like to meet up again? Whenever you can?” You settle on instead, feeling the breath leave you.

He watches you in the wind, framed by the threshold of your doorway. “Yeah, I’d love to. Tomorrow?”

You feel giddy again, just like last time as you say goodbye. When the door closes and George is out of sight, you give yourself a little cheer. Unbeknownst to you, George is smiling on the way home.

“George? Home early again?” Lucy greets him with a smile, plucking his books out from under his arm to help him. Lockwood’s behind her, the picture of mischief, and he suddenly knows where this is going.

“I didn’t go on a date,” he says quickly, but it just makes the two grin wider, “I just went to the library to catch up on some reading. It’s too loud at home with you two.”

“And it wasn’t loud with this… mystery person, George?” Lockwood singsongs, the absolute prick. George could just about swat him, but he feels too lazy. Luckily Lucy does it for him, and sends Lockwood a scolding look that has him reeling it in.

“Did you have fun at least, George?” Lucy asks instead, and Lockwood stops pouting when George gives a terse nod.

He runs a hand over one of the notes you’d stuck on his book, and simply says, “I’m going back early tomorrow.”

Lucy starts teasing him then too, and Lockwood takes it as a chance to do the same.

A/N: I had a very emotionally taxing conversation with my mother yesterday and had to delay this and any other piece’s posting until I could have the time and energy to edit it (which is today, the day after). Writing for George comes easiest to me, but it’s because it’s so easy to imagine the scene in my head that it’s rather hard to be descriptive without going off on a tangent. So, easiest and hardest to write for. Still love him dearly though.

#george karim x reader #george karim x you #lockwood and co x reader #Portie writes fanfic

[chachadelight]

𝑻𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝑴𝒆 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑯𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝑴𝒆 |

𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 1 | 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 2

𝕽𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 & 𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: NSFW 18+ , No smut in this chapter, violence, blood, guns, knives, swearing. No use of Y/N

𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢: Alrighty! Here it is, my new fic, which I should hopefully be sticking to. It definitely is aimed to be a long one with multiple parts. Forgive me, I am a slow slow writer as I get migraines often from looking at screens. But I am paSSIONATE about this so...I will stick to it. And please do not worry, filthy smut to come later. This is to just set the scene and the characters, so I hope you don’t think it’s too boring!

𝔓𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: Tangerine x Fem!Assassin!Reader

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 4.8k (I know)

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: Tangerine doesn't love, he can't. He knows that. So why does she make him feel the way she does and why does it piss him off so much?

𝔹𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝔻𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤 & 𝔾𝕠𝕝𝕕 ℝ𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤

The air was frigid in Windsor, England. The night was clear and not a single cloud could be seen in the sky, stars clearly visible and shining and the moon full and gleaming, making itself known in the autumn weather. A peaceful night, only the sound of the orchestra and the mumblings of patrons could be heard outside the manor of the Lancaster family. A night unsuspecting, nothing could possibly go wrong.

“Why do you never read the fuckin’ brief mate?”

“I skimmed it, got all the important details”.

Tangerine pinched the bridge of his nose, brow creasing with frustration. The pair were perched outside their black Bentley, the hustle and murmuring leaking from the manor a few metres ahead. Tangerine soon pulled a cigarette from his pocket and placed it between his lips, letting it hang there as he continued.

“His name is Damien Lancaster, heir to the Lancaster fortune”. He lit the cigarette with a flick of his silver light, letting it bounce between his lips for a moment before taking a hefty drag. “The Lancaster’s being the richest family ere’ in Windsor which of course you knew didn’t you Lemon?”

Lemon rolled his eyes at his brother’s comment, hands slipping into his pockets as he watched the patrons slowly file into the illuminated manor. Large and lavish and obnoxiously luxurious with all its hand sculpted ivory columns and beautifully carved mahogany doors that decorated every entrance.

“Anyway, little Damien’s dear uncle aint so happy about him inheriting all that money so you see, he’s hired us to take care of the problem”. Tangerine rested his cigarette between his fingers, his free hand in his pocket and his eyes trained on the upper level of the manor.

“Get rid of the nephew then the uncle gets all the money, got it”.

Tangerine raised his brow at that, shifting his gaze towards his brother. He simply stared in silence for a moment, taking another drag and letting the smoke glide past his lips. “Glad you finally got the memo Lemon, thank you for articulating the job so eloquently”. Tangerine sighed and took one last drag from his half-smoked cigarette, knowing that the pair couldn’t waste any more time. The last of the guests were filing in which meant it was the twins’ cue to take on their roles as distinguished guests at the Lancaster gala.

“Let’s go”. With that he flicked the bud to the ground, pressing his polished shoe against it to but the last of the cinders out. Lemon grabbed the lapels of his dress jacket, adjusting the way they sat against his chest as he followed closely behind his brother.

The main room was sprawling with wealthy high-society families, affluent politicians, and deep-pocketed social climbers. Chatting and laughing over tall glasses of over-priced wine and amber whisky. The sounds of heels clicking the marble granite floors and crystal glasses clinking against one another filled the enormous room as Lemon and Tangerine made their way into the middle. Dodging other people as they meandered through the wonderfully dressed patrons the twins found themselves at an opening at the bar, needing a position in the manor to be able to begin their survey.

Tangerine flagged down a bartender dressed in a bowtie, ordering a scotch on ice. He flicked out his wrists, adjusting the cufflinks on each arm. “Now, Damien will be hosting a gentlemen’s meeting upstairs at around 8pm after the first round of mingling. Just before that he should be preparing himself in his office. That’s when we’ll get the job done”. Lemon’s eyes were trained on the crowd in front of them as he himself ordered a drink.

“Sounds like a piece of piss”. Lemon looked down at his watch, a gruff noise passing his lips when he noticed the time. “What are we s’posed to do before then?” He leaned his elbow back against the bar.

“Always does, doesn’t it?” Tangerine grinned as he took a sip from the glass the bartender had slid towards him. “What do ya’ think Lemon?” He grinned, smacking his brother on the shoulder and taking a step further into the crowd. “Mingle”.

Lemon deadpanned his twin, followed shortly by an eye roll. He took his drink and followed his brother’s lead, stopping for a moment to lean into Tangerine’s ear. “I’ll check out the security, you hang here and see if there’s anyone we should look out for yeah? Meet you back here at 7:30 then?”

Tangerine’s gaze had fixated on a group of conversing women dressed in exuberantly designed gowns, a small smile growing on his lips. “Yeah, 7:30”. Lemon’s brow creased for a moment in confusion to his partner’s lack of concentration before following his line of sight. He nudged Tangerine in the side, prompting the other male to let out a grunt. “Oi!”

“7:30”

Tangerine rubbed at his side, frowning at his brother. “Yeah yeah 7:30, bloody hell”

With that, Lemon disappeared into the crowd, leaving Tangerine alone. He moved his attention back onto the women from before, quickly adjusting the lapels of his jacket and smoothing his moustache down with his index finger and thumb. Tangerine sauntered towards the group, smile and charm dialled to an 11.

“Good evening, ladies”. The women all turned their heads in unison, confused expressions quickly turning into giddy smiles as soon as they set their gazes on Tangerine and his towering stance.

The woman with blonde hair, dressed in an obnoxious gold dress spoke up first, her voice high pitched and dripping with pride. “Well, well…to what do we owe the pleasure Mr…?” She reached a single manicured hand, the rest of the women’s gazes fixated on Tangerine as he politely took the offer and shook gently.

“Jeffrey Baldwin”. He flashed the brightest grin he could muster as he provided his faux name, the blonde woman hiding back her own grin as she took back her hand, pink lips wrapping around the edge of her wine glass. “And you are…?

She chuckled again, looking between her gaggle of friends before rolling her shoulders back and puffing out her chest. “Evangeline Astor, my father is Baron Astor, founder, and CEO of Astor Enterprises? I am surprised you don’t know who he is, he owns half of…well everything”. Evangeline let out another laugh that this time came out as more of a cackle that had Tangerine testing his ability to hide his expression.

“Ah, of course I know who he is Miss Astor. I knew he had a beautiful daughter; I’m not surprised it’s you”. Tangerine slipped a hand into his pocket, sending a wink her way as to diffuse to tension.

It seemed to work because she smiled shyly, her eyes looking him up and down, practically undressing him with her gaze. Something Tangering did not mind, and frankly he was happy about. He was about to speak again when he was interrupted…

“Jeffrey Baldwin?” It was another female’s voice, yet it was deeper, sultrier. Nowhere near as headache inducing at Evangeline’s. Tangerine and the women all flicked their attention to the culprit. A taller woman, her body wrapped in a smooth black gown that hit the ground and hugged her figure in all the right places.

Tangerine raised a brow, first wondering where on Earth she had come from. Was she there the whole time? “Sorry?”

She smiled, red painted lips pulling back wide. “You said your name is Jeffrey Baldwin correct?” Her dress was corseted at the top, pulling in her waist, and holding her chest high and proud. The diamond necklace that sat between her breasts did nothing to help Tangerine focus his attention.

Tangerine peered around, the group of women now silent and plain faced as they all awaited his answer to this mystery woman. “Yes, is there a problem?” He fixated his gaze back on her and she simply held her smirk, even taking a step forward. She brought her champagne class to her lips and paused, tilting her head to the side.

“Mm, I’ve never heard of him. Have you ladies?” She held her gaze on his, piercing him with an intense gaze he couldn’t quite describe. Who is she?

The group of women all murmured amongst themselves, soon followed by the shaking of their heads and quick shrugs when none of them could place the name. Tangerine returned the gaze to the woman in front of him, a small frown playing at his expression and his moustache twitching with annoyance. “I’m not from around here”.

“Clearly”. Her grin never seemed to fade from her features, black painted nails tapping at the glass of her drink.

Tangerine’s eye had begun to twitch the way it did whenever his temper was played with. Who the fuck is this woman? Did she know who he is? Whoever she was, she was beginning to fuck with his cover and this job.

“How about I buy you a drink aye? Then you can get to know me, won’t be strangers anymore”. Tangerine broke the tension in his face, quickly covering it with a false grin to ease some of the growing tension.

Her smile had dropped at this point, but her gaze never left his. “Sounds wonderful”. She peered at the group and her smile appeared briefly. “Ladies”, and then it was gone once more.

Tangerine made sure to lead her to the far corner of the bar that was attached to the far side of the wall, somewhat hidden by the large velvet curtain of the floor to ceiling window. He was using every muscle in his body to not explode in the middle of this gala, his buttons were already pushed at this point. Who was this woman? That’s all he could think of. However, maybe she really was just another patron of this party. He couldn’t just lose control and blow his cover on the suspicion that she was someone he needed to worry about, someone like him.

“A negroni please”.

“What’s that now?” He was broken from his train of thought, quickly turning around to find the object of his ire standing there with a brow raised.

“The drink you offered to buy me? I will take a negroni”.

Tangerine pursed his lips, taken aback by her straightforward attitude. He didn’t linger on it for too long before he ordered her drink and one for himself, flipping the bartender his card between two fingers. The pair gazed at each other in silence, both studying one another, eyes taking in every last detail. Who was going to break the silence this time?

“So…” Her turn. “Mr Baldwin… here on business or pleasure?” She took her drink, twirling the peach liquid with the straw and taking a sip. Tangerine noted the way her red lips wrapped around the straw for a moment before speaking.

He took a moment to give her another look up and down, admiring the shape of her hips and the length of her legs. “Both”. He grinned, casually leaning against the bar as he too took a sip from his own drink.

She let out a little noise and Tangerine couldn’t tell if she believed him or not. Or if she was just unimpressed by him. Which in fact, would be a first for him. In general, she was hard to read, everything about her screamed red flag however she had yet to do anything to warrant extreme concern for Lemon and Tangerine.

“Do you do this for every woman you meet at fancy galas?” She took a couple steps forward until their bodies were a few centimetres apart. She pulled her drink back up to her lips and peered from beneath her lashes, looking ten times more unsuspecting than she did only five minutes prior. Tangerine’s brows were instantly raised, not expecting the sudden proximity but definitely not opposed to it either. He chuckled and tilted his head at her, taking in the scent of her vanilla and smoke perfume.

“Definitely not”. Suddenly every worry Tangerine had about her had floated away, a mere memory at the basement of his mind. He was entranced by this woman’s gaze, watching carefully as she placed her empty drink down yet remained as close as she was. Another small noise passed her lips as she let on a small smile, long fingers climbing up his chest to gently toy with the end of his tie. She leaned in closer now and as if on instinct Tangerine keened forward, giving her access to his ear.

“It’s funny how quickly you trusted me with a few bats of my pretty lil’ lashes”. Her posh accent was suddenly gone and replaced with one that sounded a lot more like his. Tangerine had barely any time to react to her before he was suddenly being rammed into the wall behind the curtain, a groan leaving his lips as the air was stolen from him.

“Who the fu-!”

Before Tangerine could get a sentence out, he felt the familiar cold press of knife against the base of his throat. He quickly shut his mouth at that as he leaned his head against the pillar behind his head.

“I think the question is who the fuck are you? Jeff-rey Bald-win”. She accentuated each syllable of his fake name, her face twisted in what look like disgust. She definitely knew he wasn’t who he said he was. “Stupid fuckin’ name”.

Tangerine growled, attempting to push against her until she pressed the edge of the knife harder against the skin of his throat to which he retreated, hissing his next words through gritted teeth. “Your friends seemed to like it”.

She scoffed, pressing the knife in even further, causing Tangerine to begin sweating nervously. That was obviously not the answer she wanted to hear. “Alright alright…! I’m ere’ on a job”. He hesitated to tell her exactly what for. What if Damien knew about the attempt on his life and hired someone to take out whoever that was?

“I’m gonna’ need a little more than that”. She hissed in displeasure again, her fingers turning ivory against the handle of her knife. “Who sent you?”

“Afraid I can’t disclose that love”.

She sneered at the pet name, her red lips curling with disgust. “Give me one fuckin’ reason I shouldn’t slit your throat right here?”

“For one, we’re in the middle of party sweetheart”.

She paused at that, and her eyes darted to the side, noting that they were in fact way too in the open and killing Tangerine here would be way too risky, blowing her own cover and ruining the job. She looked back at Tangerine for a moment, eyes blown wide before she groaned and lowered the knife from his throat, however keeping it strategically aimed at his stomach. “At least tell me what you’re here for”.

Tangerine hummed to himself in thought, noting carefully where she had her knife aimed now. If he tried to make a move on her like this, he would for sure be getting a gut full of blade. Perhaps they had different motives. But if they didn’t, this would complicate things ever further. Where was Lemon when you needed him?

“I’m here for Damien Lancaster…someone wants him gone”.

Suddenly she grinned and that wicked look in her eye returned. Tangerine frowned, unsure what to feel by her reaction.

“Looks like little Damien has a target on his back…”

“Aye?”

“I’m here on behalf of Baron Astor…” The tension in Tangerine’s shoulders dropped slightly. “The Lancaster’s currently own the other half of Windsor and well…Mr Astor isn’t so thrilled”.

“Well then I guess we don’t have anything to stress about, so if you could just move this…” Tangerine reached for her knife, placing his fingers over her own before she suddenly lunged forward, the knife pressing uncomfortably into his side. He hissed; eyes blown wide as he watched her.

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head at his words. “I’m afraid I need Damien Lancaster alive. He has all the access to the Lancaster data base. I need access so Mr Astor can do his little dirty work and run Lancaster name through the mud, then poof! Suddenly everyone wants to work for Astor Enterprises and the Lancaster’s are ruined”. Her smile was wicked, amused, she clearly enjoyed her job.

“Now I’m sure we can work something out”. Lemon would be looking for him by now, surely it was reaching 7:30.

“Mm, I don’t think so. A shame really, you are so handsome”.

“Thanks love, a shame for you though”.

“Why?”

“You’re beautiful”.

“And?”

“And I’m about to fuck you up”. Lemon appeared behind her, firm hand against her shoulder that had her immediately reacting by spinning herself around and swatting Lemon’s arm away from her. Using the opening she swung forward and landed a punch against his stomach, sending the larger male keening forward with a guttural groan. She used the opportunity to slip past the pair, quickly disappearing into the crowd before either of them could react.  

“Fuck me! Took your fucking time didn’t ya Lemon?”

“Fuck you! I had no idea where you were. Who the fuck is that anyway?!” Lemon clutched his stomach as the pair already started making their way through the crowd.

“I don’t fucking know! She’s here on another job, said she needs Damien alive and was bout’ to fucking stab me”.

“Shit…it’s almost 8pm, we’re way off schedule”. Lemon groaned as they now found their way past the main part of the foyer and into the silence of one of the many halls of this damn manor.

---------------------------------------------------------------

The two brothers found themselves hiding on either side of a large open archway. It was a rather inconvenient predicament to be in as they were way too out in the open. There were four suited guards patrolling the empty hallway and there was no doubt that there would be plenty more to come if a single gun went off.

Tangerine locked eyes with Lemon, a stern look on his face as he pulled his pistol out and slowly twisted a silencer barrel onto the end of it. He was going to try his best not to use it at all, but precautions were put in place nonetheless. Lemon looked equally as concerned about their position, not to mention that there was now another assassin on the job. God knows where she was at this point. But that wasn’t the main focus. The pair needed to get past these 4 brutes in order to get to Damien Lancaster’s office.

Tangerine made the first move by carefully timing the moment guard 1 and 2 had their back turned around the first corner, Lemon following suit as the other 2 made their way to the other side of the hall, moving to the balcony that overlooked the main foyer. Tangerine swiftly rounded the corner, silently easing his way up to the first guard before wrapping his arm around his neck and promptly applying heavy pressure to his throat. The man only struggled for a moment before he eventually fell limp to the ground. Tangerine made sure to drag his body away from the main hall, letting him slump in a nearby alcove in the wall.

Guard number two put up slightly more of a fight, having noticed Tangerine’s shadow before he could attack. With a little more of a struggle, Tangerine was still able to throw in a single punch before whacking the guard with the butt of his pistol, quickly subduing the man.

“Fuckin’ ell’… arsehole”. Tangerine let a puff of air through his nose, tucking in his pistol and smoothing his curls back down as they had come slightly loose from the struggle. As if on cue, Lemon came back around the corner. Tangerine frowned as his brother came to his side, noticing a small splatter of blood on the front of Lemon’s white shirt.

“Bloody ell’ Lemon, what’d you do?”

“Eh?” Lemon peered down at his chest, clearly unaware of the mess he’s made. “Ah! Yeah no worries bruv, old mate pulled a knife on me so I sent it back to im’”.

Tangerine sighed, adjusting his cufflinks. “Right well. You hang out here, keep an eye out. Lancaster’s office is just down this hall on the left”. He signalled downwards with his fingers, Lemon nodding along to his words.

“You be quick yeah? I got a bad feelin’ bout this”.

“What are you on about Lemon?”

“Well I just know if it were Thomas-“

“Don’t”. Tangerine raised a palm to his brother, closing his eyes with a frown. “Fucking don’t bring Thomas the Tank Engine into this”.

Lemon raised his hands in defence to his brother’s distaste. “Alright…just hurry up”.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Tangerine had made it the large mahogany doors leading to Damien Lancaster’s office. He adjusted his tie before reaching for his pistol and taking it out once again. “Right Mr Lancaster let’s have a chat”.

The familiar press of a barrel of a gun suddenly pushed against the back of his head, paralysing Tangerine in his spot. He didn’t dare move, not surprised by the voice that followed. “How about we have a chat first?”

“Ah darlin’, you found me”.

“Mm, and now I’m really gonna’ end it. Now your little friend isn’t here”.

“Not so little I’d say”.

“Shut up”.

Tangerine made his move by quickly manoeuvring his arm to whack her hand to the side, sending the pistol flying. Reaching forward he gripped her wrist and sent her back against the adjacent wall. She didn’t take kindly to this when her back was met with a loud thud, causing her to grunt from the. She hissed with annoyance before kicking Tangerine square in the gut, sending him hurling backwards. Stumbling only for a moment before he managed to find his footing. However, she didn’t hesitate when she pulled her knife out once again, swiping once, twice in Tangerine’s direction. She was quick, skilled, but so was Tangerine, narrowly dodging her attacks before grabbing at her wrist again. They struggled against one another as she attempted to yank her arm free by pulling him closer to herself. Face to face she sneered at him, and Tangerine’s nostrils flared in response.

“Give it up sweetheart”. He said in a strained voice, veins on the side of his neck protruding as he pressed against her. He was stronger than her and he knew she knew. He just wondered when she’d make her first move.

“I guess you’re used to girls doing whatever you ask aren’t you?” Her voice was equally as strained, but the smirk that stretched across her lips suggested she was enjoying this.

“I don’t mind a little brat every now and then”. That smirk, those eyes. That devilish glare that sent a warm wave through him, nestling at the very core of his stomach. Was he really getting turned on by a woman trying to murder him? Yes. Yes he was. And the smile that grew on his own face proved so.

She suddenly roared out, lashing out every ounce of energy she had left to push against Tangerine. Using her momentum, she swung herself around in a circle, her leg coming up at the end and her foot connecting with Tangerine’s face with a disgusting ‘thud’.

Tangerine collided with the floor, groaning, and gripping at the side of his jaw. “You fuckin’ bitch”.

“Sorry handsome, I really tried to avoid the face”.

“That’s a fuckin’ lie love and we both know it”. He rubbed his jaw, propping himself up on his elbow. That’s when he realised in the struggle, she had dropped her knife and it was now only an arm’s reach away from him. She seemed to notice this too when her eyes widened. They both hurled for the blade, and she ended up missing it by an inch as Tangerine curled his fist around it and swung up blindly, having no time to aim.

He heard her exclaim and when he finally stood from the floor he saw her gripping at her arm, crimson liquid streaming from between her slender fingers. She stared at her arm for a moment, frowning when she lifted her fingers to witness a hefty cut with a steady stream of blood flowing from it.

“You just fuckin cut me! Bastard!”

“Why are you surprised by that!?”

“You--!” A loud bang and she was sent hurtling back as a splash of red sprayed from her left shoulder.

Tangerine cursed before turning around to see who the culprit was, hoping it was Lemon. The burning came on quick, followed by warm sensation of his blood beginning to pool at his thigh. “Fuckin’ bellend!” Tangerine aimed his pistol up and in a quick blur he managed to send a bullet right through the guard’s skull, his body thumping to the floor,

“Where the fuck did he come from?” He groaned out, his face contorting from the pain beginning to shoot up his leg as he limped his way back to the door. She had her back pressed up against the door now ripping at the end of her dress to make a makeshift bandage for her arm and now her shoulder.

“This was one of my favourite dresses too…fuck!”

As Tangerine sunk to the floor beside her, the pair both groaned in unison, heads pressed against the door. “Well this went tits up aye love?”

“Thanks to you Mr Bald-WIN”.

“Aye this is as much your fault as is mine!”

“Shut up”.

She clicked her tongue in annoyance, hissing as she applied pressure to the wound in her shoulder, blood steadily trickling down her arm.

“Listen…” He trailed on. “You only need him alive for access, right?”

She frowned but didn’t speak, her tired gaze settling on Tangerine as he spoke.

“How about you get your access and do whatever you need to do and I kill the bastard and we can all go on our merry little way?” Tangerine peered at his new mystery woman with a hopeful look even though he himself wasn’t too convinced of his new plan. Lemon for sure wouldn’t like it.

She didn’t speak for a moment longer, weighing her options, which weren’t exactly plentiful as the pair bled out on the lovely velvet carpet. That was going to be a bitch to get out later.

Look at Tangerine with hazed eyes she simply leaned forward until their foreheads touched, her warm breath fanning over his face as she spoke. “Do not fuck me over”.

Tangerine grinned and shook his head, his eyes boring into her own. “Wouldn’t dream of it sweetheart”. The way she looked at him was something else. Tangerine couldn’t help the grin on his face. This woman was something else, trouble for sure. But something else he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

---------------------------------------------------------------

“Lemon just get in the fucking car don’t ask questions. Take us to the Hollyvale Hotel”.

“Since when do we take on new partners in the middle of the job!?” Lemon exclaimed with annoyance as he helped his brother into the car, making sure to stay clear of his wounded leg.

“Hi handsome”. She grinned and winked at Lemon as she slipped into the car with grace and ease. Lemon paused for a moment, letting the compliment go straight to his head as he sat in the driver’s seat and started the car. “Alright maybe she isn’t so bad…”

“Just drive”. Tangerine groaned as he pressed his palm into his thigh. Lemon clicked his teeth and did just that. Drive. He sped off, sending loud screeches through the winter night air.

Lemon peered down at his writhing brother with concern knitted between wrinkled brows. “Fuck Tangerine…you alright mate?” He looked back up at the road, taking a hard swerve to the right.

“I’m fine…bullet went through”.

“I told you Thomas was right”.

“Oh shut the fuck up!”

“Thomas is always right”. Her voice sounded from the back, prompting the brothers to look at her through the rear-view mirror in unison. Lemon’s expression surprised whereas Tangerine was all frowns.

“That he is! Ah…?” Lemon trailed off, rounding another corner.

“Call me Damsel”.

Tangerine scoffed at that. “Damsel my ass”.

“It’s ironic”.

“Figures”.

“Fuck you fruit boy”.

“I know you wish you could sweetheart”.

“Should’ve stabbed you when I had the chance”.

“You did have the chance. You lost”.

She rolled her eyes at that, deciding against argument. Tangerine noticed this and smiled proudly as his small win. It was almost sad that she didn’t continue the argument. He liked seeing her mad. He had just met her, tried to kill her, and he was already noting the things he liked about her.

The car then pulled into a new street, the overhead luminescence of “Hollyvale Hotel” fading as they drove into the underground parking.

“Here”.

#tangerine x reader #tangerine fic #tangerine fanfic #tangerine #lemon and tangerine #bullet train fanfic #bullet train #bullet train tangerine #tangerine x y/n #tangerine x you #tangerine x oc

[tendergraphite]

Stripping Back Richards Perspective—The Macaulay Twins

When observing the twins, context is vital. Remember ‘’The Secret History’’ Is a confessional biography written by a murderer who excludes incriminating details. Richard is a storyteller at heart, he will choose folly over fact always. This is all to say, we cannot trust his opinions of the twins—Neither his demonization nor sexualization.

Richard views the world under the lens that beauty, leads to love. That his birthplace, ugly and tainted, has doomed him to a lonely existence. Because he’s been deprived his whole life, he only knows what makes a member of society earn adoration (Status, money, intellect, etc.)

To put it bluntly: A man who’s never tasted water before, will walk right past it when parched—Opting to instead drink the blood of dear, as they’d seen the hunters do.

To Richard, touching greatness (The twins) is to be divine—To be worthy of affection. It's why he bolsters the twins impossibly high; he’s artificially made himself feel worthy of love. In doing so, he's removed all human flaw from these individuals.

Charles Isn't A Violent Dog

During the river scene, we gain insight into the twins true dynamic. Camilla, immobile on the warm grass, asks Charles to pull the trapped glass from her foot. But he is incapable, growing sick and faint at the prospect. In the end, Henry out of frustration pushes him to the side, and pulls the shard out himself.

This speaks for two things—That Charles cannot hurt Camilla physically, but also that he cannot help her when she is in pain.

''But how,'' said Charles, who was close to tears, ''how could you possibly justify cold-blooded murder?''

Henry lit a cigarette. “I prefer to think of it,” he had said, “as redistribution of matter.”

Charles isn’t possessive. Francis framing him that way is purely due to his own denial of his abuse. When Francis attempted to kiss Camilla, she was drunk… A direct mirror of how he’d been assaulted by him already.

And in the later half of the book, Charles ‘’true colours’’ aren’t suddenly getting highlighted, he’s just reached his breaking point.

His mental break wasn't because Camilla pulled away, but because of the overwhelming guilt the murder left him with. Charles had consistently attempted to prevent that murder.

During the ravine scene, he’s the one asking to go home. And when that does not work, he says he’s hungry, because he’s desperate for an excuse to leave that won’t provoke anyone.

At every opportunity, Charles concerns are swiped under the rug and left to collect dust. Who’s forced to be complicit in a murder? Who’s then used for his soft-hearted nature to consol said murdered persons distraught family members?

Like Bunny knew Henry had been planning on murdering him, Charles had known too: Now what did both react with? Fear hidden beneath aggression; Charles never brought that gun because he was mad with jealousy, he brought it because he'd finally buckled under the pressure.

The Truth: Their History & Relationship

What gets pushed aside, is that the twins are orphans. This is due to Richard, who assumed others had stepped in to fill the gaps that the loss of their parents would’ve created…

Well in reality, their parents died violently in a car accident. Their old-fashioned religious grandparents, who hadn’t expected to fill the role of parents again, had a societal expectation to raise the twins.

No matter how that is framed, it is traumatic for all parties involved.

The twins would’ve had no one in a world where you’re expected to get on and move on in the face of tragedy. This meant when Charles was sexually assaulted by a paster, he had no one to speak to or support him through it—Except Camilla.

Oh what? Ah yes, he was assaulted. How do I know this? Well Bunny, who Tartt establishes as being a reliable source to reveal others secrets. He’s the budgie squawking in warning as the group descends closer and closer into madness, and once he was silenced, they were already doomed.

Bunny is a lot smarter than we give him credit for. We’re misdirected in the beginning that he hadn’t know about the murder. It was an accident that he kept picking… But no, he knew the group likely had killed someone as soon as they’d walked in covered in blood.

That is all to say, when he stopped lying for the group [read more about that here. Seriously, he hates that group so much apart from Henry and Richard.] He specifically began discussing sexual scenarios to do with the church when it came to Charles.

It is in my belief Charles was assaulted, and his trauma response had been to become intimate with his own sister. Do I think it originally was consensual? What, no?! Fuck no. They were both children and didn’t know what was happening to either of them.

I doubt Charles realised what he was doing was wrong, and even as he grew older, he still hadn’t. Camilla however, had broken.

As for the "your fucking my sister" scene... Charles assumed it was to get back at him. Once again, it wasn't possessiveness.

Camilla Has A Perspective

Camilla is co-dependent on Charles, but that is because she's been left with no other choice. Hampton isn't where rich prestigious students go, but the failing destitute youth who have nowhere else to turn. It's why Julian is a teacher there, it's all under the table and hush hush.

Further proof the twins were abused/isolated is the simple fact their Julian's students. He only goes for the insecure who will take in whatever he spews. (Wouldn't surprise me if he regretted taking Bunny on as a student due to that, so took Richard on to give Bunny the eventual boot.)

That's all to say, Camilla is bound to Charles and their poverty. Which meant she couldn't move out. She was trapped with Charles, and up until Henry hadn't had someone she trusted to turn to.

She reflected Henry in that sense, who hadn't had friends and was trapped with his abuser too. Her relationship with him would've been the first she had with anyone without sex being expected.

Once Charles alcoholism reached its peak, and Camilla couldn’t fathom why, she’d rejected him. Remember the broken mirror and glass in the fireplace? That likely had happened because she’d said no.

Camilla had loved Charles, it's why despite trying to get away from him she still worried so much about him (And not Henry, who clearly had been devastated and had cried over Julian's absence—No instead she asked about Charles.) But a trauma bond can only go so far, and Charles had begun to use her as an outlet to an extent she couldn't bear.

So, she lied.

Henry as I’ve discussed, is an abuse victim. So she’d faked physical wounds on herself, and asked for his help. Now, why couldn’t she have just said she was being assaulted? Because no one cared. The whole class knew, and when Richard found out, Francis and himself lamented how they were jealous and wished they had a sister to abuse too. Even Bunny brushed of the act as simple deviancy on the twins part.

When she asked Richard why he didn't believe her, she was frustrated. Which came off as "I want attention, believe me. I want things my way" but really was "when will it ever be enough?"

Richard knew Camilla was lying, it was all in how she diverted the conversation and refused to be direct. All in that moment, as the sun shun on her just as it had in Julians classroom, his belief he could be loved through being caressed by her light, shattered.

Final Thoughts & My Fairwell

Camilla was trapped in an environment she couldn't escape from, and Charles was powerless to help her because he was the glass in her morning coffee. She did care about her brother, but too much had happened between the two of them for their relationship to be able to thrive again.

I know on the first read through it's devastating that they are strangers to one another now, but truly it was for the best.

Now, onto my final notes.

To be honest, the topic of incest was a poor choice for this book. It’s clear on reflection that it was there to create more depth, and to showcase how evil Richard is. But the audience doesn’t pick up on it, I’ve seen takes comparing it to things the Greeks/Greek gods have done and it’s grim.

At the same time, I understand you can’t control your audience. I’ve made many pieces of art only for them to be entirely misunderstood due to my own shortcomings. As an artist, you can’t guess what your readers will take away, and this book admittedly is old so has lost some of its historical contexts.

On the other hand, as a writer you can depict bad people whilst showing their perspectives are wrong. So, I’m not fully letting Donna Tartt of the hook for that one.

For those of you who’ve been reading my long (and old, wow so old-) posts, thank you. I see your likes, I see your reblogs, and I genuinely am grateful so many of you on Tumblr have taken the time to read my posts. Originally, I only wrote them because I was gathering my own thoughts—which I still do—and hadn’t expected any feedback whatsoever.

This community, although has offered many horrors, has given me so much confidence. I’m dyslexic, and never thought I’d be able to write as well as I do now. These posts have helped me with my disabilities so much, and I’m so glad I decided to be silly and write an insane theory about Richard actually being the one to push Bunny, and a bigger thought peace on proof that the Moutian Lion theory is indeed true.

I’m not ditching this account or anything, my posts just won’t be about TSH, but other media such as comics, tv shows, other books… You get the gist.

Sorry this post is rambly, I had to cut down a lot and got too exhausted past a certain point, hopefully my points aren't too hard to follow. Once again, thank you all for reading. Have a good one o7

#This is my final TSH post #enjoy! #the secret history #camilla macaulay #charles macaulay #dark academia #richard papen

[azaarchiive]

holiday girlfriend; semi eita

chapter one

- fuck semi eita

semi eita, this generations most predominant sex symbol, talented singer, funniest artist and biggest player.

semi avoided commitment like it was the plague, deciding that committing was a sham and that he was too beautiful to be held down within the strains of being in a relationship.

this led to the many girls all around the world getting a taste of the semi eita. it’s fair game to all for him.

one of them was you, y/n l/n. nothing was so special about you. you were just a beautiful girl with a beautiful body and a shining personality. not that he cared about your personality.

you were more clingy than the others but he knew how to handle you and all of your wants and needs. clearly not well though he thought as he stood in your room, violently staring at the pregnancy tests shoved in the bin.

semi was still half asleep, he had a long flight and crashed as soon as he made it over to yours. it was currently 4am, maybe he was being delirious?

“baby, what are you looking at?” you asked, starting to sense the missing presence from your bed.

“are you pregnant?” semi asked whilst slowly turning around, horror was struck all over his face.

you shot up out of the bed, turning on the night light beside your bed. you opted to stay silent, saying it out loud would be too much for any one of you to handle.

“what the fuck. no y/n, what the living fuck. have you been poking condoms or sum shit?-“

“NO, FUCKING HELL SEMI!” you scoffed loudly, did semi really think that high of himself and that low of you?

“then how the fuck did this happen? you’re on every pill imaginable.” semi said, thinking of anything that could have lead up to this.

“whilst the pill is very effective, there is still a 1% chance of getting pregnant. i guess i’m part of that one percent.” tears began to brim your eyes. being pregnant was not something you wanted in the least, at least not right now.

“jesus christ… well just make sure to throw it away or sum shit, i’m not looking after no damn baby” semi sighed, making his way back to your bed.

however you looked at him with disgust filed in your face, how could he be so dismissive of the fact you we’re carrying your baby?

the words he said got to you, you realised that he never actually cared about you. it was only about semi eita the fantastical singer.

“what the fuck semi? ‘just make sure to throw it away’ are you insane?” you said, anger taking over your whole body.

you didn’t necessarily want to keep the body fully yet, but hearing the way semi was talking about his barely 1 month old child grossed you out completely, you already felt quite maternal towards them.

“what? you seriously want to keep it?” semi laughed, not understanding why you were upset. he offered a solution, and now you’re upset?

“maybe i do, maybe i don’t. i haven’t made up my mind yet.” you huffed, lying back down and hugging your pillow towards your chest.

“well just know that if you do, i’m not gonna be raising it. you’ll have to sign an NDA, you can’t speak about this child being mine or i’ll make sure you both are homeless. i want no part in the little shit, have fun with it.” semi turned to turn off your bed lamp, ignoring the dampness of your cheeks that he slightly grazed.

tears cascaded down your face, silent sobs that could only be heard at low decibels. maybe it was the hormones, or maybe it’s the weird way society has painted pregnancy, but now you really want to keep it.

despite semi not wanting anything to do with it, you do. it’s your child at the end of the day, and if they have to face an absent father then so be it. call it selfish, call it determination, you were going to raise this child no matter what. it’s the least it deserves.

the morning was silent and awkward, all that could be heard was the noises from each others phone and occasional shuffling in the bed.

you wanted to badly to end the awkwardness, cave in and ask for forgiveness regardless of who was in the wrong, but you had to do something you’ve never done whilst meeting semi; put your foot down.

“so, you are actually going to keep it?” semi was the first to broke the silence, which was surprising since it was always you.

“yeah” your voice barely above a whisper, scared of whatever the outcome could be.

“alright, goodbye. i’ll send the papers over tomorrow.” semi said, getting his clothing and dressing himself. his face was void from emotion, it was the most upsetting thing you saw that morning.

“ok.” you cleared your throat, not wanting him to know how much this was truly affecting you.

semi collected the last of this things, hid within a hoodie and glasses, and left wordlessly.

he ran away, from you, from a potential future, from all of his ‘problems.’ but somehow, him running away was something you had to deal with, he got the fun 24 year old lifestyle that you could’ve had.

you got the child, the lack of money almost every month, hiding the pregnancy until it got too big to hide.

fuck semi eita, fuck him, his shitty career, his shitty personality, his shitty reputation and all the girls he’s currently fucking while you are standing 6 months pregnant, waddling to the fridge, carrying his baby.

fuck semi eita, the generations more predominate sex symbol, talented singer, funniest artist and father to one.

#haikyuu #authors #semi eita #haikyuu semi #musican!semi #semi x reader #semi eita x reader #pregnancy #semi is evil #pregnant reader #black reader #fem reader #chapter one #hq imagines #hq x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x black reader #haikyu x reader #post timeskip #i procrastinate too much