#the first few stars would come out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

carefulfears · 8 months

Note

top 5 (or 10 if you have em) scully taking care of mulder moments <3

she said IF i have 10 😭😭😭

1/ sein und zeit

i fear i have talked about this television scene more times than anyone has ever talked about a television scene....like. one, two, three, four, i was even foolishly invited onto a podcast to talk about it more...

my tags here:

she gets down on the Ground. there's something so primal about it. there's such a lack of pretense and sense of desperation about it. the way he hits the table. we so Rarely see him lash out like that. but it's just too much to Bear. like everything in him is just Breaking the only thing that he's even remotely been able to hold onto amidst all of the unbearable loss and trauma in his life has failed. he's fumbling around for anything that might make it better. that audries fic describing him in this moment as an 'addict out of a fix' with 'newborn anger.' “this is the world? this is it?” it's the way that he spends this whole ep cooking up some elaborate mythology about missing children and how they can be found and then the last shot of the episode is that wide shot of all of the children's graves. sometimes he's just wrong. the world is so much fucking darker and uglier sometimes than the way he sees it. and that's what is crashing down around him in this moment. and she's sitting in the wreckage holding him tight.

this is such brave, brave love. i keep thinking about CSM in the following episode, standing in scully's apartment, warning her. "allow him his ignorance, it's what gives him hope."

she doesn't know what will happen to him, to her, to them, when she breaks down the only method of coping that he has. his mother lost her bedrock too, and she didn't survive. from the moment scully enters, you can watch it break her. she does it anyway. she gets down on the ground, and she cries, and she holds him. god, it all just would've been so different, if there'd been just 1 person, 27 years ago.

(thinking about mulder reaching up to hold scully when missy died, and these tags asking: did anyone hold him, when it was his sister?)

i love the show's message on grief (and trauma), in that this is all that is necessary for "closure." there is no "Truth," (and there really isn't any closure, there's no "beyond" the sea). but it matters that someone knows. it matters that someone bears witness. it matters that someone tells you the truth, even when it fucking breaks their heart. sits in the destruction with you.

the exhaustion in her voice the next morning, when she tells skinner, "it's been a hard night for him." she's still wearing her work clothes from the day before. she was up all night. she's tired, and she's scared, and she's sad. it's been a hard 7 years. it's been a hard 27 years.

it makes me tear up every time i see it, the way she blocks him in the doorway. she's not moving. this is just so scully. it's not even starbuck, it's just so scully. she would keep him in that apartment where she could cover him and control what touches him forever, if she could. (she can't, so you're not taking him anywhere without her. the way she looks her boss in the eye and tells him he better book her a flight too. brave love.)

2/ demons

god, this one just makes me sad. this might be the one that makes me saddest. she's dying. she doesn't have it in her, anymore. i talked about this in my newsletter (and i wrote a fic about it once) but this is like...the only time where she never calls him out on what he's doing. she never yells. she never rolls her eyes. she never gets frustrated with him. she doesn't have it in her. she's dying. he will be alone. she won't be here the next time. what can she even do about it?

i always think about this post:

and you know she is thinking about how if she hadn’t been there he would’ve died. and how the next time he does something like this, she won’t have enough life left in her to keep them both alive. she might not even have enough left for herself. and she’ll give whatever she does have left to him, but it won’t be enough to save either of them. she’ll die cold and pale and he’ll burn himself out. and what can she do but hold him? who will he have when she’s gone? what will he do to himself? who will he call?

and these tags:

this is so cautious and tender and apologetic. sorry for all the pain he feels constantly. and sorry that nothing can ease it. and sorry that she is dying and leaving him like this.

she started writing to him as soon as she was diagnosed, begging. begging forgiveness, begging courage, begging grace. begging for him to not feel there was anything more he could've done, to not become the next cause he is lost in. for him to keep going, as she needs to know he's "out there."

but she's seen him hold a gun to himself too many times, and she knows he's coming down with her. and it's such a loss? this is a person she gave up everything, including her life, to follow, because she believed in him and what he wanted to do in the world that much. but things are different now. he won't survive this. he won't be "out there" saving the world.

what can she do? go to rhode island at 5am, wrap him up. stay quiet, stay still, but scream and thrash at anyone who's careless with him. sink down next to him, cover him, hold him. "maybe we need every answer in the world to survive a single question: how long do we have each other?" (x)

(also, her memento mori journal, in general. she sat in that hospital alone, for days, knowing she was going to die. and she wrote letter, after letter, after letter, to him. so that he would have something. so that he wouldn’t be left alone with nothing, again.)

3/ the end

"as mulder appears. the look on his face is of a man who's seeing, smelling, and tasting the loss of everything he has worked for. it's the look of utter defeat. angle on scully at the door. she sees only mulder right now...she moves to him now. putting her arms around him, holding on to keep him from breaking. off this, we fade out. the end." (script)

i think so often about the script notes of this scene. the description of mulder, as absorbed in destruction. everything that he's worked for, literally reduced to (cigarette) ash. scully only focused on him.

in the final angle of the season, you can really see how she's standing in front of him. her fingers clutching him. but when she first grabs him, it's so tentative. it almost feels like she's trying to see if he's still there, if he exists, if his work doesn't.

this is...the whole thing! there's a reason why this was "the end." the final image of this iteration of the series, before everything changes. this is what it is all about. it's mulder walking headfirst into the devastation of the world. drenched in loss. seeing it. smelling it. tasting it. surrounded by it. and it's scully knowing what he'll find even as he's still moving (this script note, from the hallway: "reverse on scully. returning the look. knowing what mulder is going to find. and what it will mean.")

following behind. eyes on him, while he takes in the ash. just holding on for dear life; trying to keep him close, whole.

(also, i love the moment before the fire, at his apartment, after diana was shot. the way scully tells skinner that he can reach her at mulder's if he needs her, because that's where she'll be. he doesn't even have a bed, or anywhere for her to stay!! she's not leaving him.)

4/ paper hearts

oh, starbuck. we are really in it now.

paper hearts is an ahab and starbuck episode, yes. but mostly it's about grief. mostly it's about harsh awakenings. mostly it's about confrontation with fear, scully's included.

one of the most haunting moments of the series, to me, is when they speak to the father of the 14th victim, twenty-one years after his daughter went missing. and through tears, the father says, "i used to think...that missing was worse than dead, because...you never knew what happened. now that i know, i'm glad my wife's not here. she got luckier."

in that moment, as mulder looks over at the photos on the mantle, missing is not worse than dead. it is not worse than knowing. and later that day, in his first scene, roche calls it exactly as it is: "i understand you take this very personally, mulder."

i've written about this scene in the hallway so many times, because it's truly the crux of this episode (my favorite episode).

from my newsletter:

There’s something so viscerally deep about this episode that’s hard to put into words, but to me, it is most palpable in the moment in the hallway when Mulder asks Scully if she believes that his sister was abducted by aliens. And you can see in his face that he knows the answer, and he’s challenging her to come out and say it. You can see in Scully’s that she would rather admit to anything else.

he's challenging her. he's taking their entire dynamic, and throwing it in her face. not to be cruel. not to disrupt. but just to say...so what now? isn't this what you believe?

i don't think that they've ever been so fragile, as in this hallway, honestly. they rarely threaten to break it all down. their entire lives are built on him walking up to tragedy and saying: it was aliens. it was XYZ. and her following behind saying: no. it was a killer, it was a man.

what does that mean? what is she really saying?

this episode is hard on scully. mulder has never been more haunted. there has never been a bigger reminder of what they are actually doing. they are not just chasing little green men, having adventures, studying sewer worms. they are trying to make sense of something that will never make sense. they are trying to find a "truth" that they do not want to know. they are living their lives in mourning, in bereavement, in remembrance, of a missing little girl, and scully is terrified that they'll find her. that it will be exactly like roche threatens. that missing is not worse than dead.

and there is no one else. there is no one else that even knows how haunted he is. how stuck he is, in that childhood bedroom, like he said all those years ago. how deeply sad it is.

it's all of the little things. it's the "you did good work, mulder" in the beginning. it's the way she asks if he's okay to go tell the 14th victim's family. it's way she exclaims "oh my god" when roche says that he just wants to see mulder's face, when he finds samantha's body. one of the few times that we ever see scully lose control, but she just stands up and screams, opens the door and wordlessly waits for mulder to get up and get out of there.

it's the way that she hears "help me, scully" and digs in the dirt, with her bare hands.

(you can tell in his eyes here that he's been crying, and it really gets to me. there's so much that we don't see.)

in the end, they're back in the basement. nothing left but one scrap of tattered fabric, one more lost failure. it's over. she just comes down to check on him.

the progression of scully's face in this last scene is just unbelievably gut-wrenching to me. her smile, when she tells him to get some sleep, and he laughs. the way it disappears when he holds her, and can't see her anymore. with his mother, flashing that smile and hugging her was all that it took to convince her not to worry. when he repeats the same actions with scully, she looks like she could break.

this post:

Episodes like this make me think how alone - not just lonely, but truly alone - Mulder was before her. Nobody lost sleep over him falling apart under the fist of decades old trauma. Nobody grappled with him, let him wrestle his grief against them, and still stayed. Nobody visited him in the hospital, flew to Alaska, lied for him, stayed by his bed for days straight without an extra change of clothes. Nobody else knew he was suffering or wanted to, knew it more than he knew. That end of Paper hearts where she tells him to get some sleep, he laughs at the ridiculousness of it, but also out of incredulity at having someone to wish for better on his behalf. The heartbroken look on her face as he’s laughing into her waist seems to be her coming to the same realisation; “Who looked after you before? How long did you feel like this on your own?”

she is heartbroken. there is so much grief, in being starbuck. there's grief in being needed. there's grief in following ghosts. there's grief in loving someone who is so encased in pain, in loss. he will not go home and get some sleep. a well-placed joke, that smile, a hug, does not convince her that he's okay. he hurts so much, for so long, and he has one person who knows it. and all they do is keep moving: closer and closer to that breaking point that she is so afraid of, and they can't stop.

5/ redux ii

remember when dana scully lied on her death bed and looked up at mulder as he told her that he was not willing to jeopardize skinner to save himself, and she replied, "well, then, you have to lay it on me."

the way he smiles and shakes his head, chokes out "i can't...i can't do that." through tears...they are so kind to each other. all that she has left in the world is her reputation, and she says: take it. take it all. take everything.

she cries when he won't do it.

6/ herrenvolk

okay, i wanna get into some slightly lighter ones, so y'all remember when she nearly fully knocked skinner into the wall, because mulder came in with a (checks notes) scratch on his face?

this is just so scully.

she is so panicked. she just wants to slow him down, to stand between him and the world for even one moment longer.

these tags:

she's almost begging him not to go in. the extent of her worry is heartbreaking. she loves him. it frightens her to know what awaits him.

one of the biggest conflicts of scully's character is that she just cannot stop him, she cannot shield him, she cannot protect him. the way she leans up here, and pulls him to her shoulder. covers him with a blanket. this is what she can do.

there is so much grief in being starbuck!! in loving someone who walks blindly into a world that you do not trust. in following someone into the worst night of their life: over, over, over. years, years, years. in being first mate, holding the responsibility on your shoulders of having to steer in a safe direction, only having one to choose from.

(i also think it's really special, all of the little moments where she checks in. in the previous episode, in the hospital hallway, the way she says "are you okay?" so softly.

in paper clip, when she makes him stop, and says "no, wait, hold on a second...i don't think you've had time to process everything that you've been through."

remnants of the girl who told him she'll cover for him and he should just go get a beer, take some time for himself, after jersey. who suggested he talk to someone, when jerry lamana died. she's always wanted so much for him, but she understands more now. there's still room to pause, for a moment, before he carries on.)

7/ anasazi

ladies, would you shoot your man with a gun, to keep him from endangering himself, while he was being laced with LSD, and then drag him across the country singlehandedly, while he was unconscious, despite him being twice your size? and this, too, is taking care.

the way she says, "i was certain they would have killed you, mulder." and the fear in her voice, his hand on her knee. (she is so young. she really doesn't know what to do, not as often as she seems like she does). the way he says, "thank you. thank you for taking care of me." they are so kind to each other. it'll break your fucking heart.

(i remember asking y'all a few weeks ago, if mulder and scully ever say "i'm sorry," if they ever apologize to each other. and we came up with a couple of times. i'll tell you what, though: not as often as they say "thank you.")

8/ fire

girlbosses when they singlehandedly solve serial murders, to get their best friend's shitty ex away from them!!! okay, i put this one on here because we were talking about it yesterday, but scully really does handle the entire situation with phoebe so perfectly, and that's hard to do, when you're dealing with friends and abusers.

trish, i loved this part of your post yesterday:

scully gives him the space to talk about it, never says too much but she says enough. her phrasing is SO important. she repeats what he just told her in a way that frames it as wrong.

she's a little rabid, lol. we can see it on her face when she's alone, or when mulder's not looking. but around him (around phoebe too) she's calm. she listens, she addresses what he tells her as bad, without pressing. when he tells her that she's off the case, that he doesn't want to expose her to what phoebe is doing, she asks one time: are you sure you don't want help?

he says yes, and she does it anyway. she catches that fucking murderer so that this woman can go home. just, like, an inspiration to us all.

trish's tweet:

really, truly, genuinely. scully solving the case in fire was the absolute best course of action she could have taken. get that woman out of here, an ocean away from mulder. (give him freedom, let him heal, teach him what real love feels like)

(her eyes locked in on him here, phoebe behind her. the way that when phoebe leaves the room, scully says, "you alright?" instantly.)

meeting phoebe just a few months into their partnership made her so fucking crazy like...i make fun of her for being sick in the head in regards to everyone he meets (men and women alike) and never wanting anyone around him other than her but like, my god, can you blame her!!! he's such a gentle person and people are so cruel and it makes her eyes bug out of her head.

yeah, i really don't have much else to say here, you guys. she solved a murder herself, a case that she wasn't even supposed to be working, so that his old gf would go away and stop being mean to him. she doesn't play!!

(also! while we're on the subject of abusive exes, honorable mention to scully cornering diana into an empty room and telling her to "just think" about who mulder is, who he was when she met him, compared to where he is now. "and then try and stand there in front of me. look me in the eye. and tell me mulder wouldn't bust his ass trying to save you.")

9/ deadalive

oh, you guys remember that time she raised him from the dead, right?

scully at 8 months pregnant, sitting in that hospital chair, holding his hand, for days. knowing he can’t feel it, knowing that there’s nothing that says he’ll ever wake up. that it’s impossible. that there is no science…yeah. she just sits there and holds his hand.

i love the moment when she finds out, and she comes barreling through that hallway. she hits skinner first, and starts yelling, “i want to see him. no, i need to see him,” slams her fists into his chest.

then she moves onto doggett. repeats, “i need to see him” through tears. and the way doggett says… “i know. but i wish you wouldn’t.”

she’s loved. they want to protect her, protect her image of mulder as she knew him. but they also both know she will fucking plow them down.

i always think of this fic and feel so ill:

“I pulled you six feet out of the ground,” she whispers, dangerously low. “Because I couldn’t live without you. I gave birth to your child.”

she fed his fish while he was in a casket. she planned a funeral and decorated a nursery alone, at the same time. she ran herself ragged all over the country, trying to keep his work going. she raised him from the dead.

(i also feel that i can throw in here, as related, the time that she busted him out of prison and then abandoned everything in her entire life including her career, her family, and everything she owns, to go on the run from the law and live secretly in seedy motels for years to be with him.)

10/ fight the future

there are too many contenders for my last spot, so i’m gonna keep it simple, and go with the most special movie moment. (of all movies).

from my newsletter:

“Mulder watches the spaceship as it flies overhead, his face glows with a heart-melting grin of childlike wonder and awe.”(x)

That’s exactly what it feels like to me, it’s an innocence and excitement that was so present in season one, that was all over him when he told Scully to come look in the second episode, but that’s rare to see in the later seasons. It’s rare to see at this point in their story, after all that’s happened. They are stranded in Antarctica, both of them injured, both of them freezing in the cold, and they are holding each other and gazing up at the sky. What a perfect thing in their big momentous feature, to bring it all back to what it started with.

there’s such a reverent sentimentality to it, in the simplicity. she had stopped breathing, a few minutes earlier. but when he passes out, she pulls herself up, and grabs onto him. keeps him alive, keeps them both alive, just by holding him close. that’s really the heart of it.

(also, i find it so moving that this film is the only time in the franchise that scully considers leaving, not working with him anymore, and it’s because she thinks she’s not good for him. that she’s holding him back. she never considers him as anything other than wanted, something worth believing in.)

some honorable mentions to: little green men, which i’ve written about here. (especially her secret-signaling him to their secret meet-up place, just to ask if he’s okay). the erlenmeyer flask, which i’ve talked about here. (she literally stops him in the street to tell him that she should have listened to him, and she’s sorry, because she should have trusted his instincts. that means so much, you guys). her telling colton she hopes he falls on his ass after he was making rude comments about mulder in squeeze, screaming at a serial killer that she’ll gas him into hell herself and no one will stop her, if mulder isn’t okay, in beyond the sea….she has threatened and shouted at and smacked around so many people for fucking with him, and this too is care!! (anger meaning you’re worth being angry over, etc etc)

how desperately she became frantic to find their son, after 17 years resigned to never ever looking for him, never ever endangering him that way…because she became convinced that it’s the only thing that would help mulder.

and how important samantha is to her. it matters. it matters, that sam is remembered. that someone else in the world knows. someone knows that they played baseball in the summers, that they fought over the television, that he’s looked for her in every room he’s ever been in. someone else cares about her; not as a white whale, not as a photo on a desk, as a little girl who broke her collarbone because she played on swings too hard. scully listened to her journal, and cried. listened to how much she suffered. how much she just wanted to see her big brother. (scully kept a journal like that, too, once. underwent those same tests. almost died at the hands of those same men. wrote her testimony to that same person.) it’s taking care of mulder, to love samantha. and she does.

#i got really really tired by the end but it is what it is #i want y'all to know #that i almost put 'trust no 1' on here #the way that she yells at doggett that she wants to see mulder 'SO BAD'#but in the end: writes to him that she just wants him to be okay even if she can't see him or hear from him #or even if he can't read what she sends him #and the way that she looks over at william in the stroller and puts her hand on his face #just like...that one semblance of mulder that she still has in her life and that she holds onto- in this baby #and he's growing up without his dad and she NEVER wanted that.#and mulder is writing to her that he just wants to come home to her and to will.#and how her voice shakes and she screams when she talks about how badly she just needs to see him. she feels so alone.#and there are only so many solar system onesies and star mobiles and lullabies from the florida woods that she can give #but ultimately she just wants him to be safe and alive and that's what she tells him and that's what she fights for with everyone else #but it's just so fucking unbearably sad and i couldnt do it after the first few i put on here ksjdfk #i would also say!! that her leaving him post-iwtb and their break-up was in a way taking care of him #getting the fuck out of that house. trying to save herself from that trap of grief.#then coming back when it was less haunted and he was healthier and it was able to be their home again #refusing to suffocate there just because he was. salvaging SOMETHING for him to come back to- and ALWAYS being available for that.#asks #sein und zeit #demons #the end #paper hearts #redux ii #herrenvolk #anasazi #fire #deadalive #ftf

89 notes · View notes

pilots-and-protons · 1 year

Text

Okay but consider:

In “Night” when everyone was bored and depressed from being in the Void, at some point Tom Paris should have definitely started humming a sea shanty until it caught on and the whole crew joined in singing.

#star trek #voy #tom paris #voyager #st: voy #I want sea shanties and work songs #being used to boost crew morale okay?#and Tom loves old timey things and made a quaint Irish coastal town for Fair haven #so it feels right that he would start it #Harry would join in with his clarinet if there's no one else on the bridge #or just join in singing #Tuvok would raise an eyebrow #but when he notices that Janeway has come out of her quarters #for the first time in days #because Chakotay came by to deliver a report #and she caught a few bars in the hall before the doors closed #he joins in too like he sang the vulcan lullaby for those aliens #and for the first time in ages Janeway actually spends a few minutes #secretly listening just outside the turbolift #as all her officers and crew #continue the song of the old terran work songs #and that night she actually sleeps okay

10 notes · View notes

lonesomedotmp3 · 1 year

Text

I also do want to watch poi more and more lately ugh there is so much tv...

#i will return to lot and ouat it's just that I've fully compartmentalised them as Uni Shows #so I'll get back to them once I'm back.#if i get back. I mean I'm an adult so i can do what i want but my parents don't want me to leave because they think I'll. well.#but I'm probably going back tbh what else would i even do. and then ouat fridays are back on 🖤#and lost will happen. waiting for the stars to align or for beth to start it whatever comes first xoxo #the problem is i forgot to bring my dvd here so I'll either wait til i get back OR find a way to at least watch the first few eps #I'll figure it out it's fine. the wonders of the internet and vpns #anyway who's excited for faking it april though i know i am :)

4 notes · View notes

omegapheromone · 10 months

Text

Listen I don't normally post anything not safe for work/tumblr but I apparently just. Am having a really strong heat for seemingly no reason and basically my brain isn't working right and it's like... my own skin feels uncomfortable and my body is just. A mess really.

#listen if I had to pick one single guy from Star Rail my pick might surprise some people a bit #while Jing Yuan seems like he has it all I still can't tell if he'd treat me well enough #and Dan Heng has that mysterious emo boy aura... He'd probably forget I exist let's be real #so I pick Gepard. Gepard Landau #first of all he has an older sister who is really very cool and I would love to hang out with her too #second of all he's really kind and cares about people around him even when he's busy being a silvermane guard captain #third of all. hot #that's all thanks for coming to my ted talk #no but really he's on the path of preservation and everything. he's like... the definition of reliable safe and lovingly protective #I feel like stubbornness would be his only issue. and I think he probably has a spoiled side #but god almighty he's actually the perfect Alpha(tm) in every sense of the word. if you don't believe me play the game and you'll learn #if he wasn't an option I'd probably go for... hmmm. actually I don't know. there are many fine men in Star Rail #but few are anywhere near Gepard's level of Ideal Husband Material actually #and while the bad boys and powerful sexymen like Blade or Jing Yuan are attractive options #they'd hurt me either physically or emotionally. Gepard would take a hail of bullets for me I just know it #this is my gremlin-like omega brain evaluating how ideal any given attractive pixel man I see is for a real-life dating scenario #heat 🌡#gamietxt #let me be delulu in peace while im in heat ok. shut up

1 note · View note

shikai-the-storyteller · 2 years

Text

Starting Big Important New Job tomorrow pls send positive vibes my way 😭

#i talk #job talk #FIRST FULL TIME OFFICE JOB...#it even has benefits...#I legit have no idea what the FRICK Im doing tomorrow but everyone seems nice #They were just like yeah its orientation then we'll take you to lunch #(so I'm already predisposed to liking them. food is the way to my heart)#but other than that??? who the hell knows!!!#I dont even know when I get off work! this is a 9 - 5 right!?#but the huge benefit is they STILL require masks and theyre strict about covid safety so thank the stars #also It seems like we're only in office once a week. which would be ideal #still. aaaaaaaaa #''fear of the unknown'' anxiety be hitting REAL strong #its so weird going from uh #5 contract jobs / part time jobs #to 1 full time job and 2 contract gigs #I know it's insane that I'm saying ''wow finally I only have 3 jobs!''#but listen. The past few years have made me a bit crazy #I just gotta come across as a very sane neurotypical emotionally stable person tomotrow and it'll be fine #I'm also worried about all the paperwork and medical benefit jargon I gotta fill out #but I'm just gonna be honest and ask questions and I'm sure they'll be nice about it #aaaaaaaaaaaa

2 notes · View notes

joycrispy · 8 months

Text

I wanna talk about The Angel Who Would Be Crowley.

Because I had a certain set of expectations, which got thoroughly trashed in the first five minutes of S2, and my genuine response is, "Oh, fuck, yup. You're right. That's WAY better."

Looking around at GO fandom, I'm not alone in this. So let's talk about it.

Basically, a lot of people (myself included) believed that he was a high-ranking angel, and therefore as chilly and remote as every other powerful angel we'd seen at that point. We pictured Crowley-To-Be as long-haired, regal and imposing --and the fanart at the time reflected this. I'd link some if Tumblr didn't hate links.

Something like this:

We were collectively drawing on a few things --mostly, Crawly's appearance and general bearing in the Biblical scenes of S1--

--But also scattered hints of his importance, backed up by conspicuous absences in Heaven and a few profound displays of power. That's all better covered elsewhere, so I won't reiterate the arguments here. All I'm saying is: I think our headcanons were justified.

But it turns out he was this:

!!!

With his curly little--!!

And his neat white--!!

IT TURNS OUT, he was an angel who squeaked and squealed when he was happy; who flailed his arms around and made explosion noises with his mouth to explain nebulas; who preened when told his stars were pretty. Furfur, who knew him before the Fall, says:

"You used to jump on me back, little monkey in a waistcoat..."

(The use of a diminutive there, 'little'...oh, that fascinates me.)

In a pretty huge subversion of expectations, we're given these glimpses of an angel who was sweet, and joyful, and heart-meltingly silly.

In sum...an innocent.

(Perhaps innocent to a troubling degree.

We see how he troubles Aziraphale, during their first conversation. He starts looking around and behind them, checking to make sure that no one can HEAR the blithe and reckless things coming out of this angel's mouth. This angel who talks like he's never been reprimanded in his life; like it's never occurred to him that anyone would want to hurt him.

Before the Beginning, Aziraphale understood Heaven better than he did. The danger is plainly occurring to Aziraphale.)

So now, we the viewers are in on a cruel joke that Aziraphale has known all along, which is that this --THIS-- is the angel who--

*checks notes*

--did a million lightyear freestyle dive into a boiling pool of sulphur. For asking questions.

...Imagine you are Aziraphale, and everything inside you wants to believe Heaven are the Good Guys, and God is Good and Everything She does is capital-R Right...and now try to reconcile that. Keep trying. I don't think he ever totally managed it in 6000 years.

All this gets further complicated when we learn that, despite all of the above, we were still right. That sweet excitable babby up there?

He WAS a powerful and high-ranking angel.

That much is explicitly confirmed, with significant evidence that he could have been among the mightiest of archangels...

...Who apparently accosted his fellow angels for piggyback rides. And was remembered millennia later by those (now fallen) angels as something 'little.'

What does that tell us about who he was? Is?

Hell, Aziraphale has known to be wary of the archangels (and the judgements of Heaven in general) since before the Fall even happened. He chooses to believe they are Good; he can't fool himself into thinking they are Safe.

Yet he's absolutely certain that Crowley won't hurt Job's children. Enough to stand in a burning building and say to them, "I can't save you, but don't be afraid. I won't need to."

And what reason does he give?

("I know you."

"You do not know me."

"I know the angel you were.")

What does that tell us about who he was? Is?

("The angel you knew is not me."

But how is Aziraphale supposed to believe that, when he can see him all the time?)

tl;dr --yes, this is better. I love the tragedy of it.

'Innocence died screaming' and all that.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #Crowley #Aziraphale #good omens 2 #good omens meta

13K notes · View notes

drchucktingle · 4 months

Text

my masks

hey there buckaroos. due to all of the attention the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION situation has gotten i am going to take a minute to talk about my personal way as an autistic buckaroo. im going to tell you about my masks.

im doing this for a few reasons, some are good FUN reasons full of love and some are not so great.

lets start with the GOOD STUFF. first of all, i am talking about this because speaking on my way can help other buckaroo feel more comfortable speaking on there own way, ESPECIALLY if they are good at ‘passing’ for neurotypical like chuck is.

unfortunately the NOT SO GREAT reasons im talking about all this dang stuff are two fold. reason one: i have been put into a position of having to explain and justify my needs and boundaries by the TXLA. this is not something that i WANT to be taking up all of my time, but when large organizations do not make space for those who they have pledged to support, it puts us smaller buckaroos into position where were have to defend our existence. it is not plesent but it is necessary.

the second NOT SO GREAT reason is that ‘passing’ bisexual and autistic people like myself are ALWAYS just seconds from being gatekept from folks both outside and inside these communities. there will probably be a day on chucks deathbed where i take off my mask and say hello to this timeline (mostly so you can all see how handsome i am under here but I DIGRESS). i KNOW with absolute certainty (the same way other bi and autistic buckaroos are probably nodding along right now) that when that day comes i will STILL be accused of ‘not being real’ and ‘faking’ because i ‘dont look autistic’ and i have a beautiful ladybuck partner in sweet barbara.

ALL THAT IS TO SAY, i am taking a moment today to talk FOR THE RECORD about my neurodigence and my particular needs. hopefully i will not have to keep diving this deep every time an organization takes a discrimantory action against me, but i will also say this: at least it is a good fight on an important battlefield

anyway buds, here is the story of my way on the spectrum

when i was a young buckaroo i knew that my thought process was different. i could socialize easily, which is unique in contrast to many autistic buds (it is a spectrum after all), but my social ease was for an interesting reason. I ALWAYS KNEW WHAT OTHERS WERE ABOUT TO SAY. it was like a strange ‘human game’ where someone would say one thing and i would think ‘well you actually mean something else’ in a sort of logical way (this is why i later related to DATA from star trek so dang much). at first i remember thinking ‘well i am just NOT going to play along with this human game’. i quickly learned neurotypical buckaroos do not like this, that there is a BOB AND WEAVE to social interactions that must be learned.

later i realized ‘actually if i WANT to make friends and prove love is real then i can do this like an expert because i can SEE the game where most cant’. this got chuck many buds and took me on many adventures. please understand, i am not saying these connections are not important to me, they are just different. they are full of love, but i express this in my own unique way.

HOWEVER, while growing up i felt disconnected from this timeline in other ways, like an alien or a reverse twin trotting along in a world that is not quite my own. i did not feel emotions the same way my buds did. they would get upset over the ‘human game’ interactions and i would not be moved at all, HOWEVER i could see the way sunlight hit a window and start crying my dang eyes out over the beauty. so my emotion was still there and VERY STRONG, i just felt it in more existential ways (like hearing the call of the lonesome train). these days that feeling has progressed to where i am pretty much in a constant blissed out state of cosmic emotional connection (make of that last sentence what you will, but it is the truth). when i make existential posts online i am not just FIRING OFF SOME CONTENT, i really mean every word. this is really my trot.

anyway as a young buckaroo these feelings made me worry sometimes. i thought about various mental health dianosises and marked the parts and pieces that matched with myself. am i this? am i that? sometimes, instead of just being’ different’ i worried i might actually be ‘wrong’.

when i saw david byrne on letterman in my younger days i immediately recognized something connected to myself. i thought ‘wow this is the mystery being solved before my very eyes.’ i could hear it in the music of talking heads too. i started doing research and realized that i might be on autism spectrum, something that was later confirmed by a therapist (back then the diagnosis was called asperger's). it was a glorious and fulfilling moment. i was SO EXCITED TO BE AUTISTIC LIKE MY HERO. i felt very cool because of it, and i still feel very cool because of it.

one of the big reasons i talk so much about being autistic these days is because i want to make sure OTHER buckaroos can have that same moment that i did. they can see chuck and think ‘wow i really like this autistic artist, maybe being autistic is cool’

so what does an average day WITHOUT wearing the pink bag look like for me?

my thought process is exactly like ROSE from CAMP DAMASCUS, which is part of why i wrote the book. we have the same stim (complex order of finger taps), we prepare for social interactions the same way, we analyze things in the same logical trot that neurotypical people might think feels ‘detached’ but for me feels natural (certain reviews of camp damascus are very funny to me in this way. you can tell when a reader is just very confused by existing in an autistic brain for 250 pages.)

from the outside you would not be able to tell that i am on the spectrum. in fact you would probably find me very socially adept.

the problem is, all of that masking can take its toll. i spent years trotting in and out the emergency room, talking to confused doctors who could not figure out the chronic phantom tension and pain that radiated through my body. i eventually accepted the fact that i would either live a life constantly on heavy painkillers or just stop living altogether.

eventually, however, i started noticing a correlation between the way that i felt, and the space that i allowed for chuck and the pink mask. i was exercising that tension, allowing my mental mask of neurotypical existence to take a rest. i started practicing physical therapy and this time THE RESULTS STUCK because i was approaching from two sides, MIND AND BODY. after a while, i got my pain down to about 5 percent of what it once was. i still have flare ups in times of stress, but the healing has been very real and life changing.

lets get VERY specific now. if i attended the TXLA confrence without a mask and gave my talk i can tell you this: i would do a dang good job. i can work the heck out of a crowd and (not to reveal too much about my secret way) I HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO DO THIS ON OCCASION VERY WELL. however, going home from this event i would very likely be in pain. i would likely need to do physical therapy. i would likely need to stim for a while. i would NOT be emotionally fullfilled in the same way. in other words, without my pink mask i can charm the heck out of buckaroos, but THE SPACE OF CHUCK TINGLE IS NOT THE SPACE FOR THAT. the pink bag is a place for me to not have to put up with that tension. it is a place for me to unmask mentally by masking physically.

this pink bag space SAVED MY LIFE and i am not going to risk blurring these lines. if and when that ever happens it will be MY decision, not someone elses. that is my boundary. the part of me that neurotypically masks could handle a library conference in a purely technical sense, but the part of me that chuck represents absolutely cannot and should not be asked to do that without the pink bag. unfortunately, the complexity of this point makes it even MORE difficult for me to think about and takes up even more of my time, because it forces me to START QUESTIONING MYSELF and my own needs. to be honest, that is the most insidious part of other people questioning your identify and refusing to accept your accommodation needs without ‘proof’.

the thing is, while all of this discussion of disability and accessibility is important, i have a much larger point to make by writing these words.

a conference should not uninvite someone with an unusual physical presentation or a strange way of speaking REGARDLESS of it being classified as a disability. it does not matter WHY i look the way that i look and wear what i wear. i should not have to spend all day writing this post instead of writing my next book, just because my sensibilities are unique and my presentation is unusual.

fortunately the solution is very simple: let other people be themselves. its not hurting you to simply accept and nod at the buckaroos you think look strange. let us exist

#actually autistic #chuck tingle #tingleverse #buckaroo lifestyle

7K notes · View notes

neo-nomatrix · 4 months

Text

Sunshine and Midnight Rain

Luke Castellan x Apollo kid!Reader

word count: 851

summary: Luke castellan and the daughter of apollos love story

a/n: “remember who the enemy is” IM TRYING

Luke Castellan held your heart since the day you met, and you held his.

You arrived at camp a few months after Luke. You were one of the lucky ones, claimed within an hour of being there. Your godly father is Apollo, god of poetry, the sun, music, narcissism, idiocy, stupidity, all that. You had assumed the gods would act superior to all, no matter if they were or weren’t. But Apollo was on a completely different level. You didn’t know why he had taken such a liking to you.

“You remind him of himself,” Your half sister, Kayla, had told you, “an archer who never misses, healer who fixes every wound, gifted singer, and somehow picked up the lyre in a day. And yet, you still ask why Apollo loves you the most?”

“I wish he wouldn’t,” you twirl the golden arrow he gifted you.

“y’know, that hermes boy has been staring since the moment you stepped foot here,” she smiles, nodding to the tan boy sitting on a picnic table.

“Great, more attention,” you keep your sights on the boy, lucas? Luca, maybe?

“His name’s luke castellan,” kayla says, ah luke, that’s it.

“He’s handsome,” you say matter of factly.

“Don’t trust those Hermes boys, all they do is lie,” Kayla leans back and rolls her eyes.

“It’s a good thing I play the lyre.”

——————

“You’ve got a great shot,” a deep voice says from behind you.

You’ve been at the range for around an hour, it’s 4:30, you always practice when no one else is around.

“The whole reason why I come out here this early is so i can be alone,” sure, it sounds mean but you swear you’re not trying to be.

“Sorry, once I see you it’s hard to look away,” you’re not looking at him but you can tell me has the biggest smirk on his face.

“Funny,” you tell him bluntly.

You set down your bow, keeping the arrow in your hand, and sit on the nearby grass. He lays down beside you, you follow his lead and put your hands behind your head.

“That arrow, it’s like it’s made of the sun,” He says amazed.

“A gift from dear old dad. No matter how far I shoot it’ll always come back. Supposed to be a sign of his love or something. But I think he just constantly wants me to be annoyed by him,” you inform him possibly too much.

“Most people would be grateful if their godly parent cares that much,” he says.

“It’s different with Apollo, there is no such thing as true altruism with him,” you bite your inner lip.

“I get that, I’m just tryna say- Hermes never showed up for me, and I'd kill to just have him tell me he cares,” His eyes furrow.

“Guess we both have different priorities,” you smile.

“Opposites work best don’t they?” He smiles back.

“Isn’t it opposites attract?” You wonder.

“Hey, your words, not mine,” he laughs.

“That one’s Orion,” You point up at the constellation.

“He was always my favorite,” he adds.

“Mine has always been Cassiopeia, but you can never see her over here,” You look back up at the sky.

“That one’s Taurus, and then Sirius below, and Gemini above,” you point each of them out.

Even though he hums in acknowledgment his eyes are locked on you.

“You’re staring, again” You mention.

“I told you I can’t help it, especially when you glow like that,” he reaches out and touches your face.

You reach out and grab his hand, running your fingers against his slender digits.

“I’d like to be a constellation when I die, maybe my father will fulfill that wish,” you say to him.

“That’ll be my last wish too, we can lay in the stars together.”

——————

It’s been a day since Percy Jackson came to Camp Half-blood. It just so happens to be your favorite day of the year, capture the flag. You have led the archers on the blue team for years, you’d say you’re doing well for what you’re given. Besides your siblings in Apollo the rest of the kids weren’t as gifted in archery.

As the first conch shell blew you were preparing for your mock-battle. Annabeth in charge of the plan and Percy, Luke with company, and you with the archers. You knew you could, no- would win. The archers took the trees, helping stray company from the skies.

“Today feels like a winning kind of day?” Annabeth asks luke.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” He smiles.

“Luke!” You pull him aside for a moment.

You cup his face the best you can through his armor. “You don’t get hurt okay? I don’t feel like healing anymore wounds from you. Understand?”

“Oh but I love to see you healing” he holds your hand and smirks

“Archers! Move out!” You call your team, eyes still locked with his, smiling.

“so… you and her?” Percy asks the taller boy.

“how could I not? She's perfect. I mean, I genuinely believe I could live without the sun if I just had her.”

And maybe, just maybe, he could.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo #pjo series #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #pjo x reader #pjo x you

6K notes · View notes

criminalamnesia · 3 months

Text

everyone’s asking for a part two so here is more angst bc cedar by gracie abrams is perfect for this [ also inspired by what @shotmrmiller said in their reblog :)) ]

part one here

part three (aka version 1 of the ending) here

part three (ending version 2) here

it’s odd coming home to an empty house. unnerving, even. he doesn’t like it— dislikes it even more than he did your celebrations. fuck, he’d kill for those damn streamers right now.

“love?” his voice is soft as he calls out into the dark, once lively little flat. it hasn’t felt this big since before you had moved in.

he takes a few more steps inside, toeing off his boots and letting his backpack fall to the floor. by now, you would’ve been launching yourself into his arms. where were you? you’d never missed the day he came home. ever. you would have it marked on your calendar from the day he left, exclamation points and stars decorating the date.

“love?” he calls again, his voice a little louder. he keeps moving; notices there’s no smell of freshly baked goods or a home-cooked meal.

he rounds the corner, his eyes instantly finding the little note propped up on the dining table. eyebrows furrowed, he approaches. it’s addressed to him, clearly in your handwriting.

he reads it, and he really should’ve seen all of this coming.

he doesn’t cry. doesn’t even feel sad, really. it’s not like he hadn’t loved you— he had, but sometimes you made it really damn difficult to. your constant touches and words, doting on him, talking his ear off about this and that. he’d loved it at first, then came to tolerate it, and eventually he found himself hating it.

it wasn’t fair to you. he didn’t hate you, he hated the naivety. the unconditional love. partners were supposed to show each other that kind of love, were they not? so why did he come to despise it?

perhaps it was some deep rooted self-hatred. something dark and twisted inside of him that had done too much and taken life. killed and killed and killed. watched his comrades die in a number of ways. slowly. quickly. suddenly. brutally.

it hollowed him out, but it was his job. it was his job to do what he could for the damn world— get his hands dirty so people like you would never have to worry about a damn thing.

he should’ve seen it coming. you had been acting a little odd the last time he was home, he realizes now. detached, almost. quieter. he had cherished the quiet then.

now it was weird. he didn’t know how to feel.

he placed the note back down onto the table before making his way into the kitchen. some utensils were missing. some plates and bowls. the colorful dishrags you’d hung from the stove handle. the little plant you’d stationed in front of the window above the sink.

all the pictures of the two of you remained on the fridge. he could see in the photos how he slowly became detached. but you— god, you wore that dazzling smile in every photo.

he turned around and headed towards the bedroom.

——————————————————————

there wasn’t really any defining closure. you’d left the note, sure, but he hadn’t gotten to speak his piece.

would he have begged you to stay? told you to leave?

he didn’t know. all he knew was that it wasn’t fair to you, how he acted. what he did.

he also knew that if you called, or if you showed up and said you forgot something, or hell, if he saw you on the street, he’d say something. apologize at least, because that’s the least you deserved.

but you didn’t, and after a few days, he stopped thinking about you. what you’d be telling him right now if you were there. stopped thinking about how you sang when you cooked dinner. how you would reach for his hand when the two of you were in the grocery store.

how you would throw those damn ‘welcome home!’ parties.

he fell back into who he was, and your memory became nothing but a minuscule dot on a large piece of paper.

but for you? you had been miserable when you’d shown up at your friends apartment. cried into her shoulder as you told her about the note. sobbed as you realized that he didn’t care about you, and how you’d wasted so much time on this man who didn’t give a damn.

but even still, when you stirred in the middle of the night, you expected to feel his hands around your body. expected him to press a kiss to your head as you drifted back to sleep.

you woke up and expected him to be there. you forgot that he wasn’t yours. you found yourself missing him, even though you’d starting doing that far before you actually left.

it took the man you loved days to move on. it took you months— almost a year. he put you in fucking therapy, for god’s sake, because that shit messes with someone.

loving someone so completely, so wholly, only to finally realize it’s one sided? it’s crushing. he crushed you. but you picked up the pieces, and you put yourself back together.

you move on. find someone who actually cares for you— someone who communicates and doesn’t lose interest. someone who appreciates your enthusiasm. someone who returns it.

and when the man that broke your heart several years ago tries to stop you on the street one day,

you keep walking.

3K notes · View notes

emberwhite · 3 months

Text

I spent the last 11 months working with my illustrator, Marta, to make the children's book of my dreams. We were able to get every detail just the way I wanted, and I'm very happy with the final result. She is the best person I have ever worked with, and I mean, just look at those colors!

I wanted to tell that story of anyone's who ever felt that they didn't belong anywhere. Whether you are a nerd, autistic, queer, trans, a furry, or some combination of the above, it makes for a sad and difficult life. This isn't just my story. This is our story.

I also want to say the month following the book's launch has been very stressful. I have never done this kind of book before, and I didn't know how to get the word out about it. I do have a small publishing business and a full-time job, so I figured let's put my some money into advertising this time. Indie writers will tell you great success stories they've had using Facebook ads, so I started a page and boosting my posts.

Within a first few days, I got a lot of likes and shares and even a few people who requested the book and left great reviews for me. There were also people memeing on how the boy turns into a delicious venison steak at the end of the book. It was all in good fun, though. It honestly made made laugh. Things were great, so I made more posts and increased spending.

But somehow, someway these new posts ended up on the wrong side of the platform. Soon, we saw claims of how the book was perpetuating mental illness, of how this book goes against all of basic biology and logic, and how the lgbtq agenda was corrupting our kids.

This brought out even more people to support the book, so I just let them at it and enjoyed my time reading comments after work. A few days later, then conversation moved from politics to encouraging bullying, accusing others of abusing children, and a competition to who could post the most cruel image. They were just comments, however, and after all, people were still supporting the book.

But then the trolls started organizing. Over night, I got hit with 3 one-star reviews on Amazon. My heart stopped. If your book ever falls below a certain rating, it can be removed, and blocked, and you can receive a strike on your publishing account. All that hard work was about to be deleted, and it was all my fault for posting it in the wrong place.

I panicked, pulled all my posts, and went into hiding, hoping things would die down. I reported the reviews and so did many others, but here's the thing you might have noticed across platforms like Google and Amazon. There are community guidelines that I referenced in my email, but unless people are doing something highly illegal, things are rarely ever taken down on these massive platforms. So those reviews are still there to this day. Once again, it's my fault, and I should have seen it coming.

Luckily, the harassment stopped, and the book is doing better now, at least in the US. The overall rating is still rickety in Europe, Canada, and Australia, so any reviews there help me out quite a lot. I'm currently looking for a new home to post about the book and talk about everything that went into it. I also love to talk about all things books if you ever want to chat. Maybe I'll post a selfie one day, too. Otherwise, the book is still on Amazon, and the full story and illustrations are on YouTube as well if you want to read it for free.

#books #reading #childrens books #lgbtq #lgbtqia #autism #transgender #furry #therian #art #deer #queer #artists on tumblr #creativity #illustration

3K notes · View notes

pixiesndberries · 4 months

Text

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐅𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃, 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 —

a small series of Jujutsu Kaisen men as your husband !

☆ OUR STARS : Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, Choso Kamo, Aoi Todo, Toji Fushiguro, and more !

━ REQUESTED BY : none

━⁠ WARNINGS : none

ෆ PIXIE'S NOTE ! : were back again at daily posting 🙏🏻 to my pookies who supported me, y'all made me giggle and kickin' my feet in my bed last night 👉🏻👈🏻 love lots!

GOJO SATORU, as your husband !

• Gojo being your husband is no different from being your boyfriend — he still gotta be that same person you dated few years ago, though he became more serious about situations and decisions because you guys are married but his goofy, annoying, clingy side is still there — I mean when he met you and been with you for like two weeks your caller name is already set as 'wifey'.

Gojo who totally acts like a mom when you leave for work, he is like a freaking HOUSEWIFE —

"honey!" he sings as he walks into the living room seeing you brush your hair Infront of the mirror, getting ready for work. "hmm?" you responded and quickly turns your head at him — he's wearing a this is what an awesome husband looks like apron which made you too stunned to speak, "I created a bento for you." he smiles as he hands out a nicely wrapped bento box which was really new to you because it's always you who keep creating bentos for him, usually when he leaves for a mission.

"thank you, honey." you say softly with a warm smile as you accept his bento that he specially created for you, he can't help but to feel like a love sick teenager seeing you smile like that. He officially takes the position of being a housewife 🫡

Gojo who couldn't stop talking about the future he wants with you like nonstop — this man would talk about having three million carbon copy of him with you and would name them after megumi, yuji, nanami and basically all of his friends, students, and dead relatives 🏃🏻‍♀️💨 — I FEEL LIKE HE GOTTA BE THAT TYPE OF PERSON.

Gojo always flexes you everyday and YOU are his hyper fixation — argue with the wall, he gotta be the type of man to say "she's my wife." randomly when he's talking to an old friend he haven't seen for a long time. HE WILL BE THE HUSBAND WHO YOU WILL SEE WEARING "I LOVE MY WIFE" TYPE OF SHIRT WITH THE UGLIEST FONT AND PHOTO TEMPLATE EVER. Once a person mentions your name he ain't gonna shut the fuck up.

I just know this marriage go'n be like Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively's relationship 🙏🏻 ABSOLUTELY RANDOM TEXTS FROM HIM, UPDATING YOU TOO MUCH.

2:32 pm

gojo : shitting at the mall cuz i don't have anywhere to shit on.

gojo : [sent an attachment]

gojo : i miss you my wife, my beautiful wife.

gojo : [sent an attachment]

gojo : your very handsome husband ❤️

2:40 pm

you : stop spamming me messages love, im at work 🙏🏻

gojo : why? is it turning you on 😏

you : that's a photo of your feet.

Gojo who became a seriously hands on person when you told him that you're pregnant — when he has missions with yuji, megumi, or maybe nobara and you told him that you're very tired to do anything today he will be like,"okay kids, I got to go I have important things to do." and dashed away before they could say something and mf arrived at yalls house within a second.

Gojo who cried when he carry his baby for the first time, he was sobbing like hell — girl dad? boy dad? BRO HE IS BOTH ‼️ "okay we'll name this one suguru and this one-" he is going to come up with the most ridiculous names, probably the worst one was his dead ancestor.

okay seriously, Gojo would be a full time dad after his children were born — he will always stay at home as much as he can, having twins isn't easy plus he's trying to help you with his full power and make sure you don't feel alone through this.

"gojo.." you grumble as you felt his presence disappearing next to you at bed, you open your eyes and sees he wasn't there which led you to stand up and start looking for him — you walk out of the bedroom and noticed that the twin's bedroom door was open so you check it out.

in your suprise, gojo was in the rocking chair with the twin's in his arms peacefully sleeping and he is snoring like hell. You can't help but smile seeing this moment, it warms you heart. You quickly grabbed your phone and took a quick photo, this is what you exactly wished for.

Gojo who couldn't stop posting you and his little angels and his fans are absolutely living for it, it's like his day wouldn't complete without posting cute photos of his angels and of course, you as well. Gojo is indeed a Facebook mom —

; gojosatoru

tagged : @y/n.instagram | fam time 🤍 !

liked by megumi.22 and 8,957 others

itaaa.yuji | I volunteer as a tribute to babysit them 🫡

nobaraaa | CUTIES.

shokoleiri.7 | adorbs

─ REBLOGS, LIKES, AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED FEEL FREE TO REQUEST!

5K notes · View notes

werecreature-addicted · 1 month

Note

Sacrificial Lamb reader/vampire priest.

Just consider— a cute little lamb reader lying on the altar, begging not to be slaughtered, the tears their crying making the vampires heart flutter. All the cult members are confused why the ritual keeps getting pushed back- meanwhile the vampire is spoiling his little lamb rotten.

ohioohooohiohoo

His hands are gentle, stroking your cheek as you wake slowly, your eyes flutter open slowly to the morning light, and there he is, your keeper.

"Morning," you yawn sleepily,

"Good morning, little one,"

"is it a good morning? I thought my execution was scheduled for today." you huff, you should be more scared but the soft look on his face can only mean one thing. you get out of bed and change idly, not minding the priest as he watches you, he's a man of god after all, there's no way he'd be looking at you in lust.

"ah well, we thought so but some knew doctrine has come to light, now is not the time for sacrifices. we'll have to wait for next winter, at the very least," he says. You hum thoughtfully turning back to face him, his hungry red eyes fixed on your body, flicking up to meet your face as you turn around.

"Well, I'll make myself useful until winter then." When you were born, it had been prophecized that you would be sacrificed to the gods and your death would bring about a new golden age for your homeland. Then, on your eighteenth birthday, you'd been handed over to the church, to live out your final days in the temple, under the watchful gaze of the father and his dedicated cult. Your execution has been postponed four times now.

You wondered if the cultists even bothered setting up the altar this time. it was always something, the stars weren't aligned properly, the materials were all wrong, you fell ill and couldn't be slaughtered while sick, and now, Spring was a time for rebirth, you'd have to wait for winter for the ritual. which winter? who's to say? it might be another few years before he tries to start your sacrifice again.

He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. he puts his nose to your throat and kisses your skin. "You could be useful to me now," he breathes, his voice strained, tight with hunger. You had been so scared the first time you'd almost been killed, you remembered sobbing and pleading for your life, his knife poised above your throat, He told you that you could live, for now, if you served the cult and him. Of course, you agreed, that was the first time he bit you, spilling your blood on the altar in a different way.

You lean your neck to the side and sigh as you feel his fangs pierce your skin. you have to lean back against him for support as he drinks your blood and you grow weaker.

"so perfect, so delicious," he murmurs to himself as he drinks your blood, licking at your throat, catching any stray drops of blood. His hands slide down your body feeling up your hips and thighs. You can feel his hard cock pressing against your back as he slowly grinds against you. The priest is chaste, a man of god, but he's also a vampire, as he's explained he can't help but get erect when he feeds it's a natural side effect and completely nonsexual.

He pins you down on the bed and pushes your legs apart, grinding against you, fully clothed, as he bites your neck again. you feel dizzy, a mix of feelings as your blood is drained and as you buck and grind against the vampire on top of you. you try to keep quiet, but you can't help but moan as he takes full advantage of you. You feel dirty, the man who's saved your life so many times now is just trying to eat and here you are getting off, practically masturbating right in front of him with his cock.

You can feel how large his dick is as you grind together, you can't help but wonder what it would feel like if he pulled your underwear aside and fucked you properly while he drained your blood, the thought alone makes you shudder and press up against him as he continues to dry hump you. although with the sticky feeling between your legs and his wet mouth sucking on your neck, "dry" might be the wrong word.

you bite down on your own hand to muffle the sounds of your pleasure as you cum, still trying to hide your own lust, what would the priest think if he found out you were so lustful? if you were lucky he'd bend you over and spank you for being so sinful, at worst he might chain you down to the sacrificial altar and leave you there.

The priest pulls away, breathless, your blood smeared messily around his mouth "What a mess we've made," he huffs, looking down at your neck, and then his eyes drop further to the place where your bodies meet.

"I can clean it-" you offer weakly,

"no, no little thing, rest, you need to let your body heal, close your eyes, I'll take care of all this," he coos reassuringly, you nod obediently and close your eyes.

You look so venerable like this, he could do almost anything he wanted with you in this weakened state. the prophecy said it had to be a virginal sacrifice, maybe he could halt the ritual permanently if he just took what he'd wanted from the beginning.

#monster imagine #monster fucker #monster #monster boyfriend #teratophillia #vampire #vampire smut #werewolf boyfriend #vampire x reader #vampire x reader smut #blasphemy #tw dubcon

3K notes · View notes

inkskinned · 6 months

Text

it's just that there's a few more steps you have to take that other people don't have to take, but they don't see the steps, so they think you should be able to hop from moment to moment, a chickadee.

it isn't getting out of bed. it is the weight, the hook in your chest, the anchor. you have to move the anchor first. you have to silence your alarm, but your phone is in your hand, which means now you have to put the phone down, which is too-hard. you get stuck in there for a while, the white screen, mindlessly scrolling. you don't even like this activity, have tried a few other options but - here you are, and time is passing.

you've googled iron deficiency causes depression and if i drink enough water does it help with mental illness and anxiety but no caffiene within the last two weeks, like how you googled am i gay quiz at 17.

it isn't just calling the doctor back, it's the anxiety, it's these little moths in your lung cavities, furious and fluttering. you need to figure out how to capture your fingers from between their nervous bodies. you are an adult, you can say the words yes hi, i'm calling because i need - but you need to practice first. maybe write it down because what if you misspeak, wouldn't that be embarrassing. write it down, but you need to find a pen first. well, actually, your desk is kind of messy. you should get a new pen. you should get a new organizational system. you should try journaling.

your grades in school were always strange. the way teachers would say things like it feels like you're not trying. you could touch stars in the stuff you cared about. well, sometimes. god be willing. homework average zero. oops! your english teacher's wrinkled brow: i know you know this stuff. what the fuck are you doing?

it isn't the showering, it's the mirror before the shower and the soft horrible pull of your naked physique. you have to avoid eye contact completely or else it'll be 93 minutes later and you'll have picked at your skin until every little pore is bleeding. you have to stand up but standing is tiring and also you should have remembered to buy more soap but you never remember anything. maybe get out of the shower and while it's still running and you're still dripping wet, use your phone to take a note. make a note to get your groceries. let the shower run while you stand half-in half-out and get lost in your phone for a moment. come back out when the water runs cold and now you have to sprint to get ready.

your grandmother's frown. you're just being lazy. protestant work ethics in a house that isn't even protestant. she says she just learned different but she means learned better, doesn't she.

it's not that you can't send the email, it's that your hands have been hurting lately and the desk really is messy and also why the fuck would you even care about this thing? doesn't everyone else feel like they're drowning? hi brendon thanks so much for sending! will review and get back to you shortly. but now you're on the internet, close the tab with tumblr on it. go on, close it. feel the little soft vapor of boredom come up and over your eyeteeth and make everything overwhelming and itchy.

literally all you have to do is put on shoes to go outside. you're literally already dressed, that's the hard part of this whole thing. literally just put the shoes on. just... do it! do it! this shit is easy!

it's literally that easy. just stop taking all those stupid invisible steps. stop following your strange made-up rules. times like this, even you're positive you're faking. you just don't want to bother with the cleaning and the cooking and the being-an-adult.

but then - shouldn't you be able to put these stupid shoes on? nobody's even looking. go on kid. life is out there! just take the leap!

get moving.

#spilled ink #writeblr #warm up

4K notes · View notes

kizzer55555 · 22 days

Text

DP x DC: The Most Dangerous Card Game

Ok so Danny has essentially claimed earth as his. And he is fully aware that there are constant threats to the planet. Now he can’t stop a threat that originates on earth (that’s something he’ll leave to the Justice league) but he can do something about outside threats. Doing some research on ancient spells, rituals, and artifacts, he cast a world wide barrier on the planet to protect it from hostile threats so they cannot enter. This will prevent another Pariah Dark incident. However, barriers like this come at a price. You see, there are two ways to make a barrier. Either make one powered up by your own energy and power (which would be constantly draining) or set up a barrier with rules. The way magic works is that nothing can be absolutely indestructible. It must have a weakness. The most powerful barriers weren’t the ones reinforced with layer after layer of protective charms and buffed up with power. Those could eventually be destroyed either by being overpowered, wearing them down, or by cutting off the original power source. No, the most powerful barriers were the ones with a deliberate weakness. A barrier indestructible except for one spot. A cage that can only be opened from the outside. Or that can only be passed with a key or by solving a riddle. So Danny chooses this type of barrier and does the necessary ritual and pours in enough power to make it. And he adds his condition for anyone to enter.

Now the Justice league? Find out about the barrier when Trigon attempts to attack, they were preparing after he threatened what he would do once he got to earth. How he would destroy them. The Justice league tried to take the fight to him first but were utterly destroyed, so they retreated home to tend to their injuries, and fortify earth for one. Last. Stand. Only when Trigon makes his big entrance…he’s stopped.

The Justice league watch in awe as this thin see-through barrier with beautiful green swirls and speckled white lights like stars apears blocking Trigon and his army’s advance. The barrier looks so thin and fragile yet no matter how hard the warlord hits, none of his attacks can get through and neither can he damage said barrier. That’s when Constantine and Zatanna recognizes what this barrier is. Something only a powerful entity could create. For a moment, the league is filled with hope that Trigon can’t get through yet Constantine also explains that it’s not impenetrable. And clearly Trigon knows this too for he calls out a challenge.

And that’s when, in a flash of light, a tiny glowing teenager appears. He looked absolutly minuscule compared to Trigon and yet practically glowed with power (this isn’t a King Danny AU though).

And that is when the conditions for passing the barrier are revealed. And the Justice realize that the only thing stopping Trigon and his army from decimating earth. The only way he can get through….is by beating this glowing teenager in a card game.

Not just any card game though. The most convoluted game Sam, Danny, and Tucker invented themselves. It’s like the infinite realms version of magic the gathering, combined with Pokémon, and chess. And Danny is the master. So sit down Trigon and let’s play.

(The most intense card game of the Justice league’s life).

After Danny wins, this happens a few more times with outer word beings and possibly even demons attempting to invade earth, yet none have been able to beat the mysterious teenager in a card game. Constantine might even take a crack at it and try to figure out how to play. He’s really bad though. Every time this happens, the Justice league worry that this might be the time the teenager looses. Yet every time, he wins (even if only barely).

Meanwhile, Danny, Sam, and Tucker have gotten addicted to the game and play it almost daily. Some teachers might seem them playing the game are are like ‘awww how cute’ not realizing this game is literally saving the world. Jazz is just happy they aren’t spending as much time on their screens playing Doomed.

#DPxDC #dcxdp #Danny makes a card game to save the world.#Technically he worded the ritual so that they had to ‘beat’ him as those are the most powerful barriers and most reliable.#keys can just get lost or stolen (like the one to Pariah’s Coffin)#A riddle would be useless once someone figured out the answer. Like how no one takes the sphynx seriously anymore.#(Sorry Tuck. But it’s true).#And there is NO WAY Danny is just leaving a hole open for anyone to pass through. No thank you!#So…beating him. But it’s not like Danny wanted to fight so…he edited the ritual a TINY bit. Card games are good. Much less painful too.#Danny Tucker and Sam made the most complicated card game they could imagine.#It’s based on their strategies for fighting ghosts. Capturing them in thermoses. And MUCH based on a on field battle strategy.#It often requires spontaneous thinking on the spot. So Danny? In his ELEMNT. It doubles as practice for his actual ghost battles too.#They had SO much fun making this.#Sam added an entire series of plant cards that act as traps and healing ointments and duds that just take up the field.#Tucker added legitimate hyroglyphics combined with Latin as well as English and ghost speak.#Yes. You actually have to speak that language to play. With proper pronunciation. (Amity Parker’s think the three are talking gibberish.)#I headcanon Sam and Tucker are fluent in Ghost.#Constantine WILL figure this game out SO HELP HIM!#Some of the cards also have combinations related to constellations either in name or placement on the board.#By the way the board is based on a Hexagonal summoning circle with Rhunes along the edges #And the placement of the cards on the board and on what rhune MATTERS.#Also the cards move disintegrate and have certain abilities. Think of Harry Potter Wizard Chess.#But they are normal when Danny plays at school. This is just for ✨effect✨ Against invaders.#Danny faces multiple opponents. He also halts alien invasions.#While Danny COULD stop crime on earth he’s not sure how to fight a normal human and hold back so he sticks to ghosts.#The Justice league are going crazy trying to figure out who this entity is and after deep research are convinced this is some sort of #Ancient being who has protected earth for millenia. They have paintings on ruins and everything.#Danny is not aware they think this.#Raven starts praying to Danny as if he is a god and wrangles the other Teen Titans into doing so as well. Danny is still unaware of this.#Danny is not a King or an ancient. Just a very VERY strong ghost.

2K notes · View notes

ithebookhoarder · 6 months

Text

Truth or Dare (Anthony Bridgerton x Wife!Reader)

Summary: Married only a few months, you are very much one of the Bridgerton brood - something that often drives your poor husband mad, especially when you happen to be every bit as chaotic and unruly as his siblings... Also known as, you, Benedict and Eloise take a game of ‘truth or dare’ a bit too far.

A/N: What can I say? It’s well and truly fluff-tober over here on my blog 😅

Warnings: Alcohol, mild smut, swearing, Anthony losing his mind, typical Bridgerton sibling shenanigans

Masterlist

There weren’t many nights Anthony spent away from your side.

They were few and far between, but that didn’t lessen how irksome you found them when the odd occasion called for him to leave you over night. You didn’t know what it was exactly, but you never truly slept well without your husband there to hold you.

Of course, it had to be one of those nights that you truly found yourself in a spot of mischief. Though, in fairness, it had all started rather innocently.

Un-beknowst to you at the time, it was Benedict that had been first outside on the garden swing, sipping from a stolen bottle of whiskey he’d pilfered from the kitchens. He’d been sat there perhaps ten minutes by himself, staring at the stars and lamenting about some problem or other.

Then Eloise had come along.

As was her habit - you later discovered - she had been swift to follow her brother’s example, sneaking out of the house in her nightgown for a reprieve in the night air… and a cigarette or two. Apparently her second-eldest brother was something of a soft touch when it came to her, not that you could blame him for it. You doted on Eloise too.

Then, finally, completing the eclectic cast of characters, there had been you.

Now, in your defence, you hadn’t intended on going out into the garden that night, but had found no other alternative suitable given the blasted summer heat. It was worse tonight that it had been all week, and without Anthony in bed beside you, you saw little point in enduring with the effort of trying to get any rest.

So, you’d decided to make your way quietly through the house and sit outside a while, and pray for a breeze. You hadn’t, however, expected to find both Bridgerton siblings already sat there, having had a similar idea.

“My, what do we have here? Another night owl?”

It was Benedict who spoke first, smiling warmly at the sight of you appearing out of the darkness. He was quick to rise, offering you his swing as a perch to rest upon, beside Eloise.

You were about to protest that it wasn’t necessary and that you could find somewhere else to sit, but a warning glare from Eloise was enough to silence you.

She was all too eager to pat the seat next to her in invitation, looking remarkably pleased to have another addition to their little party.

“Come. Sit,” she ordered. “We were simply discussing how tedious Lady Tremaine’s luncheon will be tomorrow and how we could possibly avoid the whole thing. Now that you’re here, you can help us plot our escape. Benedict’s only suggestion thus far has been some kind of contagious summer cold.”

“I think I actually said that I would use such an excuse, sister,” Benedict corrected with a teasing grin. “Not that we would share it.”

“Traitor.”

“Hardly. It is every man - or woman - for themselves. Right, Y/N?”

“Alas, I think your mother would be rather suspicious at all three of us suddenly being absent,” you sighed by way of explanation as both their eyes turned to you. “Besides, I only came outside because of this heat, not to join some conspiracy.”

“Hardly,” Eloise chuckled. “We simply had the same idea, but I am rather glad you came to join us. Perhaps we should form some secret kind of club - Bridgertons against boredom?”

“And do what? Constantly find excuses not to attend social events we deem too tedious or odious to be dragged along to?”

“Sounds like a marvellous idea to me.”

“It would, sister dear,” Benedict teased. “You always have a talent for causing chaos and anarchy. You’d suit the cause perfectly, even if we both know our mother would never stand for it. She somehow sees through even our best efforts.”

“In which case, it’s time I take a leaf out of your book, Benedict. After all, you always say social events become far more bearable after a good drink or two,” Eloise smirked, gesturing towards the bottle of whiskey Benedict had been steadily nursing. “Perhaps I should follow my brothers example and learn to hold a drink, maybe then things will be more fun.”

“Oh no.” Benedict was quick to shut down that idea, holding the bottle possessively to his chest and shaking his head. “No. I am not allowing you to start drinking. Mother would have my head if she caught you, not to mention Anthony would have all ours heads on a platter in no time.”

The thought of it made you laugh. Your husband was hardly a tyrant, even if he’d been known to have a temper but he was easy enough to handle. A few soft words in his ear or a kiss on the cheek and he was putty in your hands, helplessly and completely in love with you. Just as you were in love with him.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of Anthony, Benedict?” you giggled, causing Eloise to join you. “I assure you, he’s more a kitten than a lion and he’d probably prefer you to allow Eloise to sample alcohol here, under your supervision, than when she inevitably decides to rebel and has her first drink later on, in the middle of some public ball…”

The warning was clear and you all knew very likely true. Still, Eloise was beaming in victory as Benedict cursed to himself, muttering about Bridgerton women and the likely death he’d receive should Anthony ever find out he had allowed Eloise to sample whiskey. “Just a few sips, El. I mean it.”

“Oh hush,” she snorted, taking the bottle before he could change his mind. She was quick to throw back her head and down a rather brave mouthful, causing you to laugh even harder as she scrunched her face up in disgust. “Oh! That is revolting.”

“I told you.”

“Now you, Y/N,” Eloise grinned, turning and offering the offending item towards you. “Go on. Join us trouble makers - I won’t say a word about it if you don’t.”

“Oh, for goodness sake… Give me that then,” you sighed, earning a cheer from them both, knowing it was better to simply surrender rather than try and fight their mischievous whims. It only increased as you took an ambitious swig from the bottle, wincing at the acrid burning sensation it left in your throat.

If only Anthony could have seen you. He’d have probably had some kind of seizure - especially as you took another quick swig before handing the bottle back.

“There. Your turn again, brother dearest.”

“My my. You really are quite surprising,” Benedict sniggered, before winking up at you in admiration. “Who knew it? You can hold your drink better than Colin. He seems cursed to choke any time he drinks anything stronger than a brandy.”

“Well, it is your sex that falsely deemed us the weaker,” Eloise quipped. “It’s not our fault you were ignorant.”

“I’d like to remind you I wasn’t part of that decision and you also looked ready to choke a moment ago, El.”

“Doesn’t matter, you’re still one of the enemy,” she giggled, earning another raucous laugh from you. Oh, you loved her. If you’d ever been so blessed to have had a sister, you hoped she’d have been just like her. “Now, it is your turn again, brother.”

“Oh … joy.”

“Else we shall have to have some kind of forfeit.”

“A forfeit?” you scoffed, finding the idea absurd. “Like what?”

“How about… truth or dare?”

Benedict froze. “Oh no. Not again. Pall Mall is one thing but we swore we would never play that game in this family again-“

“But Benedict-“

“What’s truth or dare?”

Your innocent question ceased their bickering instantly. Their eyes widened as they turned to you, a knowing and nervous look passing between them. Somehow, you knew this evening was about to get wildly out of hand.

Sometime later, you’d been fully apprised of the rules of ‘truth or dare’. In fact, you’d been something of a natural at it, even if you knew the copious amounts of whiskey you’d all consumed was more than likely the responsible culprit. Else, you’d probably have known better and snuck back off inside before you could make a fool of yourself.

By the end of the night, Benedict had climbed a tree, confessed to being oddly scared of spiders, and been forced to sing the national anthem in French.

Eloise had also made an admirable effort, despite her obviously lower tolerance for drink. She still permitted Benedict to try and arrange her hair, before daring to steal a sock from Colin’s room whilst he’d slept. Then she’d loosened a leg on a dining chair. (Alas, none of you could remember which one but that somehow made it even funnier - even if it would not be come morning when you were forced to sit at the table for breakfast in some kind of roulette.)

You could only pray you didn’t choose said seat.

You could also only pray neither of your conspirators shared your contributions with your husband. You weren’t exactly sure how Anthony would feel at the fact you gone for a midnight paddle in the pond, nor that you’d mixed up the papers on his desk, all before finishing the night with a final dare that involved stealing several cakes from the kitchens… you still swore Mrs Reynolds would notice, come morning, that there were no longer twelve perfect cakes.

That, and Benedict had somehow knocked flour all over the counter, causing you all to erupt in drunken laughter as you’d bolted back outside.

Needless to say, you all looked a sorry sight as you lay in the grass together, staring at the approaching dawn. Had you not been so tired, or drunk, you may have suggested retiring back to your rooms before the house awoke shortly.

“Now that… was fun.”

“Fun? That was more than fun. I haven’t laughed like that in ages.”

“Told you it was a good idea.”

You hummed in agreement with your sister in law.

“I can see why you all favoured this game so much,” you sniggered, winking at Eloise as she sat in the grass beside you. “I can also see why you all agreed to stop playing it… I don’t know what Anthony would say if he saw what we’d been up to.”

“Something sensible and disapproving most likely,” Benedict sniggered. “Our brother, and your husband, can be a right prig, no offence.”

“Oh hush. At least I didn’t let my sister dress me up in her petticoat when she was five.”

Benedict’s jaw dropped.

“Who told you about that?” he demanded indignantly.

“I have my sources.”

Benedict’s eyes narrowed as he turned his head to glare at his younger sister. “Well, you can tell your source that she’s going to have to find someone else to fetch her lemonade at the Cowper’s ball tomorrow night unless she apologises. You can also tell her that I’ll accept either a verbal or a written apology as long as it’s suitably abject. And that means very, very abject,” he added darkly.

“Tell me, Benedict, was it a lacy petticoat?”

With a wordless grunt of annoyance, Benedict groaned, but it was hard to hear over the laughter echoing from you and Eloise. You resembled more a pack of hyenas than two noble ladies - you probably looked just as feral after your night of mischief.

And of course, as was always your luck, that was exactly how your husband found you mere seconds later.

How Anthony had arrived without any of you hearing a carriage pulling up to the house at this time of the night - morning? You couldn’t be sure - was a mystery. Yet, there he was, hands on hips and looking thunderous as he stormed towards the three of you with all the fury of an exasperated headmaster.

“What in God’s name are you all playing at?”

You all froze.

It was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over you as your eyes widened, and you all turned to stare sheepishly at him.

“Oh, darling. You’re home?”

“Don’t ‘oh darling’ me,” Anthony sighed, attempting to scold you but without much success. His attempt at seriousness was somewhat undermined by his brother’s heckling, singing ‘here comes mother’ and that ‘someone’s in trouble’. That, and with the way you were lying, he was upside down. “What are you doing up at this god forsaken hour? And why are you … is that flour? And why are you soaking wet?”

“I went for a swim.”

“A - you went for a -“

“And Benedict did my hair,” Eloise interjected suddenly, waving her arms about as she gestured to the tangle of hair upon her head. “Isn’t it marvellous?”

Anthony’s expression very much said that he did not think it was marvellous. Nor did he find any of this vaguely amusing.

In fact, by the way he took a long deep breath, you knew he was doing his best not to lose his temper and wake the entirety of the household. His brow always creased like that when he was faced with dealing with his family, but the expression only made him seem more adorable and handsome to you, rather than authoritative. However, you’d never told him so, knowing it would hardly be deemed a compliment in his eyes.

You also doubted he’d appreciate your usual response right now, which was normally to kiss said brow until it eased back into its relaxed form.

“We were just playing a game to escape the heat, darling,” you soothed. “We couldn’t sleep and all had the same idea to seek refuge outdoors… we simply got carried away passing the time.”

“What game?”

“Pardon?”

“I said, what was the game you were all playing?” Anthony suddenly quipped, the warning clear in his tone. That, and his eyes landed squarely on his two siblings, who at least had the decency to look sheepish… and afraid. “Because there is but one game I can think of that would result in a mess like this one, and I’m confused, because I know for a fact that we banned that game under this roof, and any other roof that houses the Bridgertons.”

No one moved.

No one even breathed.

It was as if you were all too scared to risk answering Anthony, even if the empty bottle of whiskey did most of the talking by itself.

“I don’t recall the name,” you blinked. “Right, Benedict?”

“Oh, uh… we… we were just- Eloise?”

Eloise froze, the guilt written all too clearly on her face for her to even try and salvage the situation - though that could also be down to the whisky she had consumed… it was honestly hard to be sure at this point.

“Well, dear brother,” she began, only to trail off as Anthony lifted his hand.

The silence was instantaneous.

No one dared to say another word, let alone move.

You’d never seen Eloise or Benedict so still in your entire life. Hell, you weren’t even sure they were breathing - probably out of fear Anthony would decide to inform their mother about their mischievous exploits.

If Anthony Bridgerton was scary when vexed, then Violet Bridgerton was a nightmare brought to life in human form. After all, as the matriarch of a family of eight children, she had learned a long time ago how to keep her unruly children in line - a harrowing experience you had only had occasion to witness once or twice since your marriage into the Bridgerton family. Once had been when Colin and Gregory had broken a priceless vase when racing around the house, despite being explicitly banned from doing so. The other had been when she had caught Eloise and Benedict smoking outside on the terrace one night.

It was easy to say where your husband had inherited it from.

“Not. Another. Word,” your husband growled, bending down and sweeping you up into his arms in a move that made you squeal in surprise. “Right now, I am taking my wife to bed and I suggest you two do the same - after you clean up your mess. I’ll deal with the lot of you in the morning.”

A laugh escaped you as you tried not to look like you were enjoying the sudden turn of events too much. After all, you doubted he’d be too happy once you were more sober and he discovered the true extent of your nightly activities.

It was why you were only too happy to let him put you to bed, grumbling all the while about letting his siblings run wild. He really was most handsome when he was flushed - a fact you were reminded of as he hastily changed for bed, flashing you a tempting glimpse of his bare torso in the process.

You could tell without asking he was tired from his journey home, as well as fighting the urge to rip his hair out over the chaos he had found upon his return.

Thankfully, his need to be in your arms outweighed the need to scold you over letting yourself be drawn into his siblings’ schemes. All it took was you pulling him down onto the mattress, and climbing into his lap to turn him into a needy, lovestruck puddle.

You’d equally missed having him in your arms, but you’d be lying if you said that your sudden forwardness wasn't also due to a mixture of the whiskey you’d drunk, and the residual giddiness from a night of mischief. A confidence radiated from you as you began to run your hands over his bare chest, taking care to graze the areas you knew made him groan.

“You’re lucky I love you so much,” he teased breathlessly, visibly unable to refuse your advances.

“Is that so?”

Anthony chuckled, nodding as he surged his lips towards yours. “Yes, so come here, my delinquent drunken wife, and let me kiss you before you and those doe-eyes of yours drive me insane. Now.”

Your laughter and surrender was immediate. “As you wish.”

Alas, for poor Anthony, that was not the end of the ordeal.

In fact, it was the next morning as you made your way into breakfast that you faced the final consequences of your delinquency.

Despite wishing to remain abed for the entire day, you’d been granted no such reprieve as your maid had entered your room at the usual appointed time and proceeded to open the curtains with no regard for the fact that you had slept a mere handful of hours. Whereas you would normally greet the day with a reluctant smile, you were in no state to manage much more than a groan as you were harshly ripped from your slumber.

If you had somehow not yet come to the conclusion that last night had been a bad idea, then the sudden flare of pain in your head at the bright intrusion was all the proof you needed. That, and the sudden churning in your stomach.

You would never let Benedict or Eloise coax you into drinking with them again.

You had not realised, despite how the idiom went, that what went up was sure to come down again - and you had come crashing down.

Hard.

“If you’re ready to dress, my lady, then breakfast will be served shortly,” your maid chirped, a dress already picked out for you to wear. She either couldn't detect your fragile state, or didn't seem to care as she continued speaking at a painfully loud volume. “My Lord sent me to wake you as he is finishing business in the study. He was up frightfully early, I could scarce believe it went the housemaids told me they’d already found him awake when they went to start the fires this morning. Gave young Samantha a right fright he did, scribbling away at his desk.”

“Oh?” you croaked.

You hadn’t even noticed the empty space in the bed bedside you until then.

Clearly Anthony had risen early, if he’d even gone to sleep at all. Why were you not surprised? Your husband was perpetually in motion, always claiming there was something or someone that needed his urgent attention as the head of the Bridgerton clan. It was just one of the things that made you love him so much.

“Is he still there?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” the young girl continued, breezing about your room. “And that’s not the only strange incident this morning. It will tickle you rotten when I tell you the latest drama, but you see, Mrs Reynolds was ranting and raving about how she swore she had made three trays of fruit tarts last night, yet this morning, there were only two. The youngest kitchen maid, Betsy, is convinced it must be a ghost but my money is on Carter - the groom’s boy - he’s always snooping about the kitchen...”

You winced. Ah. Maybe you hadn't been as stealthy last night as you’d hoped after all...

With as much enthusiasm as you could muster, you began to peel yourself from the mattress, trying to appear as if you were listening to your maid’s theories as she dressed you for the day. It then took all your resolve to make it downstairs and to the breakfast table without tripping over your own feet, or emptying the non-existent contents of your stomach.

To your relief, only Eloise and Benedict had so far taken a seat at the breakfast table - and both looked about as miserable as you felt.

“Good morning,” you mumbled, taking your usual chair next to the head of the table. You were quick to accept the steaming cup of coffee Benedict handed you, shooting him a thankful look. “Dare I ask how we feel?”

“I think better than you and my dear sister here,” Benedict chirped, gesturing at a miserable looking Eloise. She had her head in her hands and was desperately trying to look at the plate of food in front of her with something other than repulsion. “Then again, I must admit I am somewhat more experienced in the art of late-night mischief than you both. I also did not have to deal with my brother before going to bed - thank you, again, for that noble sacrifice.”

“Your welcome,” you chuckled, a faint heat rising in your cheeks as you remembered the exact events after you and Anthony had gone to bed. “I just feel bad that you both got left to clean up the mess.”

“Don’t be. I think we got it all.”

“You say that but I can’t remember anything after you started singing in French,” Eloise groaned, massaging her forehead once more. “I have the oddest feeling we may have forgotten something.”

You paused. You could only hope for your sake she was wrong.

However, you were saved from such discussion by the arrival of the rest of the Bridgerton bunch. All conversation about your night-time escapades were quickly forgotten as Colin, Hyacinth and Gregory entered the room, bickering about something you couldn’t quite make out. They were swiftly followed by Violet and Francesca, who both looked unfairly cheerful for so early in the morning.

You could only wish to look so fresh and composed before your first cup of whatever caffeinated beverage you could get your hands on.

Then, finally, came your husband. Entering the room last, he turned and shot you a warm smile. Clearly, your shenanigans had been forgotten - for now - replaced instead by the memory of your other activities, much to the relief of you and your co-conspirators.

In fact, you swore you saw Eloise exhale a breath of relief when Anthony didn't immediately launch into one of his lectures. Instead, he chose to join the rest of his family in helping himself to the awaiting breakfast spread, laid out on the sideboard for them, listening to some ongoing debate between his mother and youngest brother.

“-but you said we could visit the park this afternoon.”

“I know, sweetheart, but I have to take Francesca and Eloise for their final fittings at the modiste. We shouldn’t be too long, and we can go after? Unless, perhaps your brothers will take you. Colin? Benedict? Anthony?”

Benedict looked physically pained at the idea of an afternoon at the park, what with his current delicate constitution and all. You honestly couldn't blame him. “Well, I uh - have a drawing class, this afternoon. Very last minute. Sorry.”

“And I... um, have a meeting at the club?” Colin stammered hastily. “Anthony?”

“Please, Anthony?” Gregory begged, all but pouting at his older brother as the pair made their way to the table. “I promise I’ll do all my lessons this week without complaining if you say yes. I’ll even let you have my pudding tonight.”

“As you asked so nicely, brother, I don’t see how an hour or so at the park could do any harm -” Anthony began, pulling out the chair next to you and lowering himself onto the seat in a moment that felt like it lasted forever as a horrifying sensation swept over you.

You remembered what you’d forgotten.

The chair.

“Anthony, wait-!”

The sudden crash was startling, as was the sight of your husband being sent flying backwards as the chair collapsed beneath him.

No one moved.

No one said a word.

Benedict looked across at you and Eloise, the horror clear in his eyes as he choked the word you felt on the tip of your tongue: “Run!”

#Bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fluff #bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #ithebookhoarder #thesilentmage #masterlist #Violet Bridgerton #gregory bridgerton #hyacinth bridgerton #francesca bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #jonathan bailey #colin bridgerton

4K notes · View notes