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mrsbenedictbridgerton · 3 years

Text

The truth about loving you

Polin Modern au

Part one

4.5k

*Here it is - finally -part one! I hope you enjoy! *

Loving Colin Bridgerton had been the joy and the heartache of her life. It was time for Penelope to move on. He was never going to notice her. He was never going to love her the way she loved him. Always travelling, always seeking something... Colin was back in the small town of Grosvenor. But something was different and he had a feeling, it was him.

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Prologue

Penelope Featherington was well aware that, generally, the idea of love at first sight was laughed at. In addition, the thought that a young woman who had just reached the age of sixteen should find the love of her life in such circumstances was preposterous to most people. Well, almost everyone, really.

But she had. Fallen in love that is. Deep, head over heels, irrevocably in love. With Colin Bridgerton, brother of her dearest friend Eloise. Tall, handsome, charming… kind. Yes, she knew within a few minutes of meeting him and of becoming mesmerised by his smiling eyes that he was kind. She knew that he loved his family to distraction, that he was decent, that he was caring and that he did not have one bad bone in his body. That whoever should be lucky enough to win his heart would be treasured and loved…

So, really, one could not blame her for the instant, fatal bolt of something that had left her painfully in love with a man who saw her, she shuddered to think, as almost another sister. And he already have plenty of those. Penelope, being somewhat shy (and certainly lacking in the kind of confidence that would have let her believe she had any chance of being seen in anything more than sororal terms) had hidden her infatuation behind smiles and blushing cheeks. She had told no one - not a single soul - and miraculously none had guessed. She daren’t divulge the deepest secret of her heart to anyone. It was her private treasure; every moment in his presence was a potent mixture of exquisite joy and painful torment. He was the sunshine of her life.

And he was completely, utterly oblivious. He had been both the greatest pleasure and tragedy of her life. For twelve. Whole. Years.

Until one day, as she approached the age of 29 and began to have those philosophical internal conversations that one often has when reaching a significant age, she had a revelation. No more, she told herself, no more…

Something had to change.

Part One

Twelve years, three months and two days of being in love with Colin Bridgerton

With a final few clicks, followed by a deep sigh, Penelope flicked the lid of her laptop closed and glanced at her watch. Six pm. That gave her exactly sixty minutes to prepare herself for the town Spring Gala - otherwise known as Lady Agatha Danbury’s annual party; held every April by the social leader of the small Oxfordshire town of Grosvenor, in which not a soul dared to miss either through fear of Lady Danbury’s interrogation at a later date or simply because it was the first post-Christmas social event, where the chill was finally fading from the air and the dark nights of December had been replaced by the tempting promise of the bright summer evenings to follow.

Penelope didn’t know if she had the energy to face the entire town, but go she would. Really, she should try and make the most of the evening. She would actually miss the predictability of life here. In Grosvenor, nothing of real substance ever changed. It was comforting, but it was a crutch. It was a life she had clung to to avoid making the hard decisions.

As she stood to leave her desk, her eyes fell upon a polaroid. It was a picture of Pen, her best friend Eloise and Eloise’s brother, Colin, taken at Christmas a few years ago, they all were wearing ridiculous jumpers and Colin was trying to stuff a whole mince pie in his mouth. A frown crossed her face. She grabbed the picture and tossed it into the first drawer of her desk, slamming it with a satisfying thud.

It’s time to grow up, Penelope, she told herself.

It was time for a change.

After locking her door, Pen stashed her keys in her pocket and… nearly jumped out of her skin. Perched on the small brick wall surrounding her cottage was Eloise Bridgerton, her oldest friend, lit cigarette dangling from one hand and black leather jacket slung over her shoulder.

“Jesus, El, you scare me!” Her friend smirked and took a long drag of her cigarette. “And you know if your mother catches you smoking she will kill you.”

Eloise scoffed. “I’m 28 years old Pen. I think I’m pretty far past the age when my mother rules my life.” Pen gave her a pointed look as she put out the cigarette on the stone wall before slipping it back in the packet. “Okay, so she could make my life a misery. As you well know I smoke precisely three times a year: the Danbury party, the Smythe-Smith musical evening and Simon and Daphne’s Christmas Fete.”

Pen knew her thoughts on forced social occasions, they were very similar to her own. Forced socialisation was akin to mental torture to the middle Bridgerton sibling because, like Pen, she had little time for the more vapid members of town society, and sadly, they made up a high percentage of those one would meet on such occasions. Which was why, as ever, she was once again thankful for friendship with Eloise. They were as much alike as they were different but there was something intangible between them that transcended the ordinary. On a higher level, they just fit. Many a time they’d postulate over large glasses of wine about becoming eccentric spinsters one day, with a dozen cats each and a cozy little house that overlooked the sea. It was a comforting thought for someone like Pen, who usually avoided thoughts of the future.

Slipping her arm through her friend’s, Penelope pulled Eloise to stand and began to walk in the direction of the Danbury’s large, sprawling house.“And then why do you attend tonight?” Penelope teased, knowing fair well what the answer was.

“Danbury would have my head on a platter - and then my mother would serve it for dinner. You know how those two are!”

Indeed, Penelope was well aware of the friendship between two of the town’s grande dames, both forceful in their own way and both determined matchmakers. “I wonder who they are trying to set up this year?”

“Don’t look at me,” El spat with an incredulous look, “Mother let that go a long time ago.” “Hyacinth maybe?”

“She’s far too busy with her graduate degree. She’s determined to get firsts across the board. She’s now onto her fourth language you know?” Pen did know El’s youngest sister had an uncanny knack with languages, it was unnerving really when noone else in her family spoke more than a smattering of bad French. She’d already also mastered Spanish and Mandarin - helped of course through the year she had spent travelling in China. Oh how Pen wanted to go to China… okay, perhaps not China, maybe she wasn’t that adventurous. But just anywhere other than here. “Pen?”

“Hmm?”

Eloise jabbed Pen softly with her elbow. “You like you are on another planet.”

“Just thinking,” she replied, not really being dishonest.

“Well I’m glad to see I am such scintillating company. I was actually trying to tell you I have news.”

Oh. News. Eloise had news? This was the moment Pen had been waiting for. She wanted El to know first, she hadn’t even told her mother yet...

Pausing, Penelope turned to face her friend and forced a smile. “Actually, I, too, have some news-”

Just then, a large pair of arms wrapped around Pen from behind, hugging tightly around her waist before lifting her and spinning her around.

Oh God. She’d know those arms anywhere. She’d know that cologne. She’d just know it was…

“Colin! Put me down!,” she screamed, wriggling from his grip, “I’m far too heavy!”

Feet landing back on the pavement, Penelope stumbled a second before spinning on her heel to face him.

“Nonsense, you are light as a feather Pen,” Colin replied, grinning as reached forward and pressed a loud kiss on her cheek - leaving the patch of skin his lips had touched tingling and a deep blush threatened to engulf her face. Thank god it was getting dark already.

“That was my news,” Eloise announced smugly, crossing her arms. “Brother three is back on British soil.”

Stunned was not quite the word to describe Penelope’s state of mind as she stared at Colin Bridgerton. Colin with his warm, wide smile and deep, dark eyes… eyes she had drowned in more times that she cared to count. His thick, brown hair had grown and now licked at the collar of his shirt. But otherwise, Colin had changed very little in the six months since she had last seen him - and indeed in the twelve years since they had met.

“Colin,” she began, still a little tongue tied from the brief kiss and, moreso, his entirely unexpected return, “But you were in Australia?”

“I decided to come home.”

“Clearly,” she mumbled, her head whirl. He always had that effect on her. His mere presence sent her stomach into knots and her head into a whirl and thinking clearly was almost impossible. “How wonderful,” she added.

She was dizzy. She felt a headache coming on. Actually, she felt just a little sick. Why was he back? Why? He was supposed to be gone for another five months. She should really have guessed that this might happen, Colin’s plans were always flexible and his adventures were subject to whatever whim or passion he was currently in the midst of. Still, it was unlike him to return from a trip early. It would have made more sense for him to spend those extra months exploring some other little corner of the world( and giving her the time she needed). Time for Penelope to make all the changes to her life that her carefully made plans had necessitated. Time for her to finally get over him. Severing her childish adoration for this man was the only way of moving forward with her life and just as she was about to make the great leap into the unknown… there he was. Same old Colin.

Damn, she was tired of loving him. Because the truth about loving Colin Bridgerton was that it was equal parts heaven and hell.

“Pen!” El shouted, breaking her reverie. “You phased out on me again.” Penelope gave a wan smile. “So what were you going to tell me before my idiot brother here interrupted us?”

“Oh,” she shrugged, “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Lady Danbury, of course, had planned her event to perfection. A string quartet greeted visitors in the large, marble lined vestibule of Danbury Hall and uniformed wait staff meandered around the milling guests carrying shining silver platters of champagne and fancy-looking canapes. As the trio arrived, friends of Colin’s surrounded the siblings and welcomed their friend home. Colin had always been extremely popular. Between his good nature, sense of humour and ability to make whomsoever he conversed with feel important and noticed, he has managed to forge friendships with almost every inhabitant of Grosvenor.

Seeing an exit, Penelope grabbed a flute of champagne from the first passing server and managed to sink down half of it in one swift gulp as she headed towards the large ornamental garden that was accessed from the house’s terrace. She needed a moment. She needed air. She needed to think.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be thousands of miles away.

She really had convinced herself that she was growing out of her feelings from him. It was quite ridiculous. It had been over TWELVE years. She’d mooned over him all through her teens and twenties, both cursing and thanking her friendship with Eloise for placing them in such close conspiracy. Being close to him and watching him over the years had only deepened her feelings whilst simultaneously feeding a torturous sense of insecurity. It was a curse. Any man she met was instantly compared with Colin. Was he as kind as Colin? Was he as generous as Colin? Did he make her laugh like Colin did? Did she dream of sinking her hands into his hair the way she did with Colin? Would he kiss like Colin... The list was endless.

Admittedly, the few fleeting relationships she had found herself in over the years had little longevity in them on their own merit. If a man showed an interest in her she was flattered - and flattery led her to trying to like them too. But no matter how much she tried, it was impossible to force attraction, or even friendship, and spending an evening with any of them was a close second to a glass of wine and a good book. So almost permanently single, she’d hidden her feelings under the guise of a bright demeanor and focused herself on building a career and becoming more than a woman driven by her emotions. Well, she had tried.

Tried and failed miserably as proven by her visceral reaction to his presence that evening. Who was she kidding? The only way to finally free herself from this madness was to take herself out of the equation. Physically.

With a sigh, she downed the rest of her glass and left it on a little decorative iron table that edged the patio. There was little use in ruining the evening by letting herself sink into a mood. Tonight he was here and there was little she could do about it.

Colin was home. Jetlagged, overtired and not-quite sure exactly what the time was, but he was back in Grosvenor with his luggage already deposited in his childhood room at Aubrey Hall. As expected, nothing of any note had changed in Grosvenor in the half a year he had spent travelling across Australia. It never did actually. Not during his tour of Europe, his kayak trip down the Amazon nor those six months spent trekking in India. There was something comforting about that. Home was always home. With very little change to have to acquaint oneself with when returning after a prolonged absence.

Except… Well… She looked different. Penelope did. No, that wasn’t right. Penelope was the same as always. Pen was always there when he came back: she was dependable, as much a part of home as his mother’s Sunday lunches or the broken clock at the town hall - and inevitably joined at the hip with his sister Eloise. But something was different this time.

When he’d seen her across the street, he’d stalked up to her as he often liked to, picking her up and spinning her around - it was an old trick that had started so long ago he’d forgotten exactly how or why. Yet this time he didn’t just feel the sense of enjoyment in making his friend laugh, as he picked her up he had immediately noticed the curve of her hips and the brush of her breasts against his arm. Startled, he had let go, only for her to turn to him with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes and- well -it was different. He’d always known Penelope was a woman, but tonight for some reason, he knew.

While he had been awake for over 30 hours (thanks to a delightful assortment of caffeinated beverages), he could not blame the tightening in his gut and the moment of breathlessness he felt in that brief moment on sheer exhaustion. In fact, he’d felt a rush of adrenaline and a kick of excitement, as if he had just discovered something new. Something that no one else knew. It was… unsettling. But not exactly in a negative way.

Puzzled and curious, Colin made light work of greeting those old friends who didn’t yet know he had returned and then left Eloise to be grilled by their sister Daphne and her husband Simon about just when she planned on moving out of Aubrey Hall. He slipped away quietly. The simple solution to his confusion was to go and talk with Penelope as he normally would. Surely that would settle whatever had affected him so much. He needed to have a nice, normal conversation with her. It was understandable, he supposed, for friendships to be a little strange after such a time. It hadn’t happened before between them, but still...

It was in the garden that he found her. The evening was still light, the sun turning a hazy orange behind the springtime clouds. He’d left Australia as the summer was turning to autumn and here he was about to experience summer yet again. The idea made him smile. Summer was always his favourite time of year. It seemed filled with so much promise - the days were long, the weather fine and even the gloomiest of souls could not retain their negativity when faced with an English summer’s day.

“Pen,” he said as he approached where she stood at the edge of the ornamental gardens. In one hand, she had a full flute of champagne and in the other an impossibly sized canape. She seemed to be studying the canape and deciding how best to approach it’s consumption - not easy when it took the form of an oversized base of puffed pastry topped with a heavy dollop of cream cheese and an artful sprinkling of caviar (Colin had always appreciated good food). Her eyes met his and she smiled, perhaps a little self consciously.

“Colin, I thought you were enjoying a hero’s welcome.”

He smirked a little, “I should hardly think my travels are an accomplishment. Indeed, mother sees them as somewhat the opposite.” His mother was actually very supportive of her son’s desire to see more of the world, but she had mentioned many times how perhaps spending every penny he earned on the endeavour was not the best forward planning. A large part of him knew she was right. The transient lifestyle he had lived for so long was starting to wear on him if truth were told. Not that the urge to discover new places would ever leave him, but perhaps the way it manifested in his life needed to change. More to think on later, he supposed. “Anyway, I’m reliably informed that my mother is planning a welcome home and belated birthday party very soon. My loyal fans can fawn over me then,” he teased

“Oh,” Penelope gasped, “Your birthday was last month - I didn’t exactly forget I just - well, with all the travelling I didn’t even know where to send you a card. Here,” she said pushing the canape in his direction, “A present. I’m sure you are starving.”

“Oh no no no,” he chuckled, pushing her hand back. “I could not possibly deny you the pleasure of… that.”

Penelope frowned as she glanced at the oversized canape. Really, Colin was being a little cruel. Even he, who had never been accused of being small of mouth, would struggle to eat that with some semblance of dignity. But Penelope’s pouting pink lips were perfectly proportioned for her petite heart shaped face, forming a flawless pout as she considered the clearly impossible challenge. Colin, for his part, was seriously contemplating the lush fullness of her bottom lip until Penelope let out a deep sigh, opening her mouth wide and pushing the entirety of it inside. Colin sucked in a quick breath. As she chewed a drizzle of cream spread across her lip and he watched, hypnotised, as her tongue slipped out and cleared it away. There was something startlingly erotic in the moment and he found himself transfixed. Their eyes met as her jaw worked, the silence between them somehow startlingly loud, even as the sound of the party increased behind them in the house. Not breaking the eye contact, Penelope took a long sip of her champagne. “Done,’ she murmured softly.

The edges of his lips curled as he reached forward and brushed a crumb of pastry from her petal soft cheek. “Was it enjoyable?” he asked quietly.

Wordlessly, she nodded.

And, hell, he had enjoyed it too.

‘Well then, I’d say I’m rather jealous.” He was overcome with a sudden urge to kiss her. He wanted to step closer to her, wrap his hands around the devastating curve of her hips, press his body to hers so those lush breastswere flush against his chest and then he would taste those maddeningly erotic lips. The idea pulsed through him. She was staring. Her blue eyes widening. He reached for the glass in her hands, intending to set it down-

Buzzz. Buzzz. Buzzz.

The moment was broken by the vibrations of a mobile phone. It took Pen a few seconds to acknowledge it was hers, a confused look crossing her face until she fished the device from her jeans pocket.

“Pen? PEN? Where are you?” Eloise’s voice bellowed down the line.

“Eloise,” she mouthed to him, though he had no trouble hearing his sister, who was never known for her subtilty. “You need to get here. Daphne is PREGNANT!”

“Oh,” Pen smiled, looking back at him. “I think we should head back to the others.”

Wordlessly he nodded. His sister - for whom motherhood had always been so important - announcing her first pregnancy, was certainly something he wanted to be there for. “C’mon,” he whispered, holding out his arm, “Time to play proud big brother.”

Further exploration of his newfound fascination with Penelope Featherington’s lips would have to wait.

Hours later...

The world was silent when they reached her cottage. An intrepid white cat darted across the street as a gust of wind rustled the branches of the small oak tree that dominated the garden of Penelope’s cottage. Despite the light chill to the air, she was wearing a warm coat of alcohol, her cheeks glowing as they always did when she had drunk champagne. Pleasantly tipsy, she leaned into Colin, his warmth comforting against her side as she fumbled in her pocket for her key.

“Thank you,” she said quietly as she opened the half gate that breached the stone wall around her home “But you really didn’t have to walk me all the way home. I’m a big girl, you know.” There was a double meaning to her words; yes she wasn’t exactly young, but she also wasn’t exactly small in size - the phrase ‘curves in abundance’ could have been written just for her, she had thought on more than one occasion.

“It was my pleasure,” Colin replied, “It was a fine excuse to leave before the revels became too tiring- you know these things can go on until morning and I already feel like I could sleep for a year.” With that, he yawned and ran a hand through his hair. Pen watched those lightly tanned fingers come through the dark chestnut locks and swallowed down a sigh.

“Well,” she nodded, “I’d say that it’s time to say goodnight.” For a second, she fidgeted, her keys jangling on her finger. Impulsively, she reached out her hand and immediately felt ridiculously awkward. She and Colin did not shake hands. She didn’t shake hands with anyone. Ever. She cleared her throat and felt her cheeks deepen in colour. Oh god. After their strange moment in the garden, things had felt almost normal between them as they congratulated Daphne and Simon and then passed the rest of the evening hearing stories from Colin’s travels and bringing him up to date with the (somewhat limited) local gossip he had missed. And so when he had insisted on walking her home, she hadn’t been overly wary. Yet now… now they were alone on her quiet street and he was staring at her so oddly that she was actually finding it difficult to breathe-

“Good night,” he said softly, reaching down to bring her into a hug. It was a beautiful, warm embrace, her face almost nestling against his neck so that she could enjoy his musky, soft cologne. This was nice. This was safe. Friends hugged.

She made to pull away, but he only loosened his grip a small amount. Looking up he was so very close. His dark, velvet eyes fixed upon hers. “Pen…” he whispered, a look of concentration upon his face. She tried to wriggle gently free of his arms, his close inspection feeling uncomfortable and somehow searing.

And then he kissed her. Just like that.

His lips were against hers, his hands slipped up her back, his mouth suddenly urgent and wonderful and if Penelope could have imagined his kiss a thousand times she could not have imagined this. He pressed her back against the door, his tongue sweeping into her mouth with a satisfied groan. Her hands, which had been limp around his neck, surged into his thick locks, the satin strands feeling obscenely good between her fingers. He pushed his hips forward, anchoring her in place, his mouth tracing her jaw and then her neck, one hand racing down to cup her buttocks and squeeze just hard enough to make her gasp in surprise.

Colin Bridgerton was kissing her.

Colin was kissing her.

Colin.

Suddenly, she froze, pushing against his shoulders. “Are you drunk?” she panted.

“No,” he frowned, “Are you?”

“No,” she admitted, shaking her head. And, oh she was thankful that she would remember every moment of this...

Without her noticing, Colin had taken the key and opened the door behind her. Quickly, they fell inside. Their arms instantly back around each other and the kiss resumed and it was intoxicating. It was magnetic. It was drugging… Penelope had never been kissed like this before.

Colin was nibbling at her neck and pulling her shirt out from her jeans. She dug her fingers into the firm muscles of his shoulders and felt herself being swept away.

“Wait-”

He paused and looked up.

Penelope took a step backwards. This had to stop. It was madness. “I-I can’t do this right now. I-”

His face creased in confusion. “Pen?”

She began pushing her shirt back into her jeans. “I need to think. I need to sleep. I-” She sighed and pursed her lips. She couldn’t believe what was happening. She couldn’t believe what she was doing.

He responded with a small nod and a whispered, “Okay.” He reached back and placed his hand on the doorknob, before adding, “Later?’

And Penelope tried to smile.

Colin left, the door closing softly, followed by the clip of footsteps and the creak of her gate. Quickly, she locked the door and then stared at it.

And then Penelope Featherington started to cry.

Oh god, what the hell just happened?

To Be Continued...

#bridgerton #bridgerton ff #bridgerton fanfiction #Colin Bridgerton #Penelope Featherington #penelope x colin

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lady-griffin · 4 years

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Prince Geordo looked at Katarina as she stopped to smell some Ice Roses, smiling softly to herself.

It was just the two of them walking through the palace gardens and Geordo couldn’t have been more pleased.

Keith had to meet some daughters of several noble families, Alan and Mary were whisked away by Marquess Hunt, and Prime Minister Ascart had taken his family for a trip down south. Oh and of course Maria had gone home to her small village.

It was perfection.

Geordo smiled smugly to himself. The Ascart family’s vacation and Maria staying home were just good fortune on his part, but the other two. Well he was quite proud of himself to say the least.

A few mild comments about Keith’s lack of engagement had been enough to send Duchess Claes into action. As for his own brother and Lady Mary, well it was fortunate he had run into Marquess Hunt and expressed his sincerest disbelief that his own bother hadn’t performed for his fiancé’s family.

“Why are you smiling like that, Prince Geordo?”

“Are you saying there is something wrong with my smile?” He responded with his best charming smile.

But Katarina wasn’t thrown by his act. In fact, her eyes narrowed and he felt goosebumps gather on the back of his neck.

For as oblivious as his beloved fiancé could be, she seemed to have the uncanny ability to see right through him.

“I get to spend a lovely afternoon with my beautiful fiancé picking flowers, of course I’m smiling.” He said, feeling a bit sheepish for his half-lie. It wasn’t like he was unhappy to be spending the afternoon with her.

Katarina looked at him like she didn’t quite trust his answer, but nonetheless she returned back to the flowers.

“Do you like these ones?” He asked, pointing to the Ice Roses, hoping to move the conversation along.

Katarina nodded enthusiastically at him and Geordo held up the basket filled with flowers that he’d been holding for her. She carefully placed the newly cut roses among the others.

Katarina was planning on making several bouquets. She’d told him all about how she wanted to give one to Keith’s fiancée when she returned back to Claes Manor.

Geordo doubted that even the fearsome Duchess could get Keith to pick a girl to be his bride, but he didn’t tell Katarina that. He was glad that Katarina had cheered up and he didn’t want to ruin her good mood.

She’d been slightly put out when she’d been told it would be better for her to not be at the tea party.

While he was always going to suggest that to Duchess Claes, before he could even say anything, Katarina had already been told to stay away.

Geordo wasn’t sure if the Duke and Duchess were aware that Keith’s fondness for Katarina went beyond sibling affection. Though, at least, the two were aware enough to know that Keith would never give his full attention to other noble ladies if Katarina was around.

For that, Geordo could not fault the younger Claes sibling. All noble ladies fell to the background for him when Katarina was around. In fact, everyone did. How could they not?

“Are you sure it’s alright for me to take these?” Katarina asked unsure, carefully admiring some more flowers. Katarina’s questioning of her position in society was still something that fascinated him. It was endearing, but odd.

“Of course.” He answered simply.

She beamed at him and his heart stuttered. Katarina bent down, softly touching the petals of some Sword Lilies before cutting a few to add to her growing collection. Katarina moved forward.

“What flower do you like best, Prince Geordo?”

What kind of flowers do you like Miss Katarina?

Geordo blinked at the memory he had nearly forgotten.

It was from the day when he had first met Katarina.

He hadn’t actually forgotten about that day. How could he? The memory of Katarina falling and him being unable to do anything as the blood gushed out dominated his memories of that fateful day.

Though, the rest of his memories of that day had faded over the years. Geordo barely remembered the madness of servants and doctors rushing to Katarina’s aid, but the fear on their faces and his own feeling of uselessness had made their marks. He didn’t even recall who finally pulled him away from the bloody scene and walked him back to the palace.

It was no wonder he had forgotten the first part of the day, before Katarina fell. Or as it seemed, he had nearly forgotten.

Now those memories were rushing back to him.

Geordo remembered his selfish fears the following week, when Katarina was bedridden with a raging fever.

He was so concerned of what going to happen to him if Katarina didn’t recover. It wasn’t like he could explain to his parents that Katarina was to blame, not him. Because what would they even say to that? What would society say about the Third Prince refusing to take responsibility?

All of that fuss for some dull, spoiled, and vapid little girl.

“I don’t think I have a favorite flower.” He answered, trying to keep his smile as his stomach twisted in on itself. “I’m haven’t really given it much thought before. Do you think a certain flower would suit me best?”

Katarina turned away for him, listing off all kinds of different flowers that she could think of.

He had once thought Katarina was colorless and boring, that she was just like everyone else.

No.

He had once thought she was worse than everyone else. Even more boring than all other noble girls he’d been force to meet.

Panic seized Geordo as he watched Katarina walk further and further away for him as he stood there motionless, stuck in the garden of their childhood. The colors slowly fading away as she left him behind.

It was almost funny how he had forgotten what the first hour of their first meeting had actually been like. Almost, being the word.

Geordo had been so annoyed at being force to give her a tour. No one had bothered to even ask him if he wanted to do it. It was just presumed he would. But of course, they presumed that.

Geordo had been going along with the meetings and making pleasantries and smiling as every stupid girl he’d been force to meet. The idea that one of them would be his future wife hovered above all their interactions. A depressing cloud to remind him of all the boring years he had to look forward to.

It didn’t matter if it was Lady Catley, Lady Thorne, Lady Bennet or any of the others, because there weren’t any real differences between them. They were all as boring and uninteresting as the last one.

In an odd way, Katarina had stood out amongst the others. It had only been a few minutes of meeting her that he knew he absolutely did not want her to be his wife. Ever.

During their first walk through the gardens, Katarina had clung to his arm. Her fingernails felt like claws digging into his skin, trapping him in place.

All he could do was smile and be the charming prince they all thought he was as he suppressed the urge to push her away. He had wanted her to leave him alone, he didn’t want to spend another second with Katarina Claes.

How blind was he as a kid?

How stuck in his own spoiled thoughts that he had mischaracterized his beautiful Katarina to such a degree that all he saw was some stupid, vain girl with nothing of note about her?

A week after Katarina had fell, young Geordo was told about the scar that marred her once beautiful face. Though according to others, the scar was a few centimeters at most, if even that.

Still, the question of who would want to marry her now had been whispered throughout the palace halls.

At the time, Geordo thought it was ridiculous and beyond infuriating.

But it had given him an idea.

Maybe being engaged to Katarina could help him out in the following years to come. A shield to all the so-called important Lords and Ladies who shoved their daughters at him. If he was engaged, he wouldn’t have to deal with them anymore.

And if the reason for his engagement was just the matter of a silly scar, well surely, he could break it off for another silly matter. It wouldn’t be difficult to manipulate someone like Katarina.

True he would be stuck with an insufferable girl for the years to come, but it also meant freedom from the countless others.

With his plan set to go, Geordo arrived at the Claes Manor to officially check on Katarina’s progress.

Visiting her was the first step into his new future. He wasn’t going to propose to her right then and there, no that would be improper and unseemly for the Third Prince. Still he had to visit her once, so he could propose to her during his second visit. There couldn’t be a second visit, without a first.

But he had been wrong. That Geordo remembered clearly.

He had never really been wrong before and it almost seemed impossible, but yet…

Katarina had apologized to him of all things. She too thought all the fuss around her had been ridiculous and…and he was confused.

Smiling brightly at Geordo, Katarina showed him the scar on her forehead, assuring him that she was just fine. That she could just cover it up with her bangs and that there was no need for him to feel bad.

His eight-year-old self couldn’t even begin to wrap his small mind around Katarina throwing his carefully laid out plan out the window, like it was nothing. So, he quickly proposed to her right then and there.

Formality and properness followed his plan out the very same window.

At the time he hadn’t realize why he had even done that. Why he hadn’t stop to think of another plan, why he had been so impulsive.

But now Geordo did. It was clear that his younger self, with his set plan, had been desperate to enforce it. To ensure to all, no to himself, that he’d been right. That he couldn’t have been wrong about Katarina.

Geordo wanted to laugh at his younger self, but couldn’t find it in himself.

He remembered being confused when he returned to his room after visiting Katarina. Geordo had been able to see through almost everybody his entire life and even with the people he couldn’t, at least he knew he couldn’t.

But Katarina…

He had been so sure of exactly what kind of person she was.

Young Geordo shook his head. It didn’t matter that he was slightly off about Katarina. He had been right in the end, in a way…if one thought about it long enough.

He was still going to properly propose to her the second time he visited.

Everything was still going according to his plan. It had to.

Though it wouldn’t hurt to reconsider what he knew about one Katarina Claes, just so he’d be prepare for their next meeting.

And yet, even with his expectations of Katarina carefully modified for when he returned to properly propose to her, she had thrown him off once more.

Katarina smiled brightly without a care as she stood in the early beginnings of a field in dirty work-clothes, hoe in hand.

Creating a vegetable field to improve her earth magic was one of the most ridiculous and nonsensical things he had ever heard. He almost broke right there as he tried to contain his laughter.

But it was creative and wonderfully Katarina, to think of something no one else had and to go at it with so much determination and enthusiasm. Not caring if she was wrong or right. It was so different from how he approached everything. So wonderfully different.

That day Geordo remembered clearly.

Years of reflecting back on that day had solidify it in his memory. The dull, colorless world he had lived in for so long was marred by the bright and colorful Katarina in the most beautiful way.

That day was when he finally admitted to himself that he’d been wrong; he didn’t know the answer to the confusing puzzle that was Katarina.

That day spurred on Geordo’s countless efforts to figure Katarina out and understand everything about her. Because for the first time in his long eight years of life, he was finally interested in something, no, someone else.

That’s the day he met Katarina Claes.

The days and years that followed had led to him falling hard for her. His beautiful, lovely, and odd fiancé.

That’s what mattered. Who cares if he had misjudged Katarina in the beginning? It didn’t matter. Not now.

So why was he still standing frozen to the ground? Why couldn’t he let go of what he had first thought of Katarina? He was wrong and he had misjudged her, there was nothing more to it. Why couldn’t he let it go?

“Prince Geordo!” Katarina shouted, rushing back to his side and relief filled his body as he finally breathed out. “I’m so sorry. I got lost in talking about Mary’s lesson in proper flower arranging that I didn’t even realize that I had…”

Her face was flushed with a beautiful red and her bright aqua-blue eyes looked wild. His heart pounded at the sight, at the idea of her rushing back to him.

“Geordo?” Katarina asked. His eyes widened as he realized he hadn’t heard anything else she had said. “Are you feeling alright?”

Before he could respond, a cool hand was on his forehead, while the other held his cheek. He was so overwhelmed, that instead of doing the sane thing of assuring Katarina that he was fine, he hugged her tightly.

Because what if Katarina hadn’t hit her head? What if there had been no scar? What if…what if she had never been part of his life at all?

Geordo held Katarina tighter. Afraid that if he let her go, she would be gone.

At eight-years-old he was already bored and annoyed with everything. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what eight more years of that would’ve been like.

Katarina pulled away and he just stood there, embarrassed by his sudden rush of emotions and losing control like that. He tried not to blush as she stared back at him, her mouth agape.

She shook herself out of her daze and then quickly and very loudly began to call for one of the servants to take a look at him.

She grabbed his arm tightly and began dragging him back the palace. She was determined to have someone take a proper look at him, since clearly the sun had gotten to him.

Geordo went along happily, with no desire to escape the forceful grip on his arm.

As the two got closer to the palace, neither one took notice to a certain spot where a young nobly lady had hit her head all those years ago. — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — Archive of Our Own

I’m intrigued by the fact that Geordo is the only one of the main characters who met Katarina before she hit her head. He’s the only one who knew her before, even if very briefly.

So, I got to wondering if he thought Katarina had a major shift in personality or would he just presume the more logical (but not true) answer, that his opinion of Katarina before she hit her head was wrong.

And then my mind took off with that idea.

#Hamefura #Katarina Claes #Bakarina #Geordo Stuart #Otome game no hametsu flag #Gerald Stuart #destruction flag otome #my next life as a villainess #Jeord Stuart #archive of our own

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astral-obscura · 7 years

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Intercepted Planets

Note: this is the basic, natural manifestation of intercepted planets, but it isn’t permanent. You’re able to heal and move forward from these issues.

Sun: The ego is misplaced, and drives the native inconsistently -- personal or impersonal reactions & decisions don’t arise in the appropriate contexts. Identity will be poorly defined and the native will feel lost in their sense of self, not having direction or an accurate perception of what makes them unique. They can be indecisive and easily confused, lacking solid framework of personality to build their lives upon. Experiences can be wasted, as not everything will be filtered through their “being” properly. They won’t understand their role or place in the world and will often feel alienated. Extreme self-esteem issues will arise as a result of poor self-image, absent self-awareness, and an inability to self-express. They don’t give themselves room to grow, and may stagnate in a pattern of reflection of others, isolation and limitation, causing decontexualized perception of self to separate them from their past and their potential; they float in hazy misunderstanding of what it means to be themselves, and can’t progress.

Moon: The emotions will not have a safe resting place within the native, and there will constantly be a sense of “looking in” on how they feel from a detached outside perspective. They won’t understand the source of their emotions, will have little positive experience of sharing them, and will not have a close connection to their own inner self, so expression will seem impossible. Blank, directionless, or vapid thoughts typically fill their mind without external stimulation because interior richness is stifled. May have trouble with memories and imagination. A painful lack of self-nurturance permeates their life. Intimacy and empathy are heavy, uncomfortable, perhaps even distressing. They filter their feelings through a “normalcy standard” that they fabricated through observation, and it limits their self-understanding because they feel a constant inner discomfort which alienates them from themselves. They handle themselves impersonally, and that lack of self-compassion is damaging.

Mercury: Rational intellectual activity is blocked by splintered thinking & inconsistent logic (due to the vitality and style of the mind being suppressed). Original thoughts and ideas are dismissed out of a lack of a sense of mental uniqueness. Logical complexities take considerable attention, time, and careful conscious energy to comprehend. Learning may be stunted. Communication is highly difficult because the native struggles to find their personal voice, and ideas must be sorted out before spoken (making writing easier than speech). Often feels misunderstood, may need to find unconventional ways to communicate with others in order to feel heard. They may also misunderstand others and lack the social sophistication to understand complex use of language, although they have their own complex use of it. There’s a barrier between what is natural for them and what is natural for everyone else. They are enclosed within their own mind, scrambling to build a bridge between it & others’.

Venus: Values and personal taste are inconsistent, ill-defined, or based in external influences; individuality can’t be expressed through style, so the native feels poorly represented in the world. They may doubt their positive qualities or physical attractiveness and feel highly insecure about their appearance, status, material possessions, or wealth. Their priorities won’t be well organized and this will negatively impact relationships. The native won’t have an accurate perception of where they stand with others, nor how they behave when in love. They will have trouble expressing love and committing, as their desires tend not to be very stable (due to lack of self-awareness and self-acceptance). Creativity is blocked, so they will have many good ideas but no way to execute them, which can cause a feeling of being ‘trapped’ in an inability to express. They will feel disconnected from others, and their love will likely be conditional because purity of emotion is difficult to access due to their tendency to over-analyze and misconstrue social contexts & dynamics. They may lack solid ideals.

Mars: Self-assertion will be severely limited, and the native’s personal power will be tightly reined with extreme effort (consciously or not). Strong emotions and ambitions are repressed. The native spends much time convincing themselves not to take action, carefully suppressing impulses. Overt passion or anger are embarrassing for the native; they’ve been taught that intensity in expression is unwelcome, for whatever reason. Bottling it increases its strength, so emotional responses typically have a hostile edge. Passivity can become a habit, reducing the native’s reactivity, direction, defense mechanisms, and ability to cope with confrontation to an unhealthy extent. They mute & slow themselves. They feel as if they were not born with the innate ability to protect themselves, so they may have an anxious, defensive disposition due to inflated survival drive. Instincts and intuition confuse the native, and they shy away from risks. More inclined toward flight rather than fight. They may be scared of or uninterested in sex.

Jupiter: Expansion turns inward; the native may feel as if they have a hard time keeping up with themselves. They will feel like the world is harsh on them specifically and their luck is absent, weak, or selective -- a general sense of being underprivileged will arise. They grow rapidly, but much of it feels inconsequential (& may be discarded) due to not having an adequate way to express their personal wisdom; what they learn is held inside, and they will resent their inability to share their insight. They may feel like they possess a wealth of knowledge or truth but that they cannot access it, which negatively affects their confidence and enjoyment of life. Their perception of what they deserve is warped, so they may be extremely selfish or selfless. Trust is difficult for them, and they may be skeptics or become arrogantly opposed to things they disagree with because they can’t grasp relative morality or the concept of personal journeys; they are terrified of universal truths not existing.

Saturn: Self-restriction and personal limitations take place without the native understanding their source or necessity. The lessons within difficult life experiences will be lost on them because they don’t maturely analyze their shortcomings or wounds. Their flaws could be their downfall because they easily become complacent; it’s unlikely for them to fully heal from pain because they don’t learn from it first. Ambitions seem too far away to achieve, so they are often unwilling to try. It’s difficult for them to find their inner strength, but they can’t build healthy structures in their life until they do. They may lack dignity, humility, or responsibility, which is ultimately a form of self-sabotage. Self-control is warped as well, leaving them either under self-tyranny or self-anarchy, never feeling secure in their “personal code” & regulation of themselves, not knowing what they should allow into their lives or what they should not. This affects their identity and they may adapt to a circumstance or pattern that is unhealthy, just to try to feel comfortable in who they are and “pick a life to lead.” They rush, and often make the wrong choice because of it.

Uranus: The native will be disconnected from a drive for moral action; it is difficult for them to maintain strong beliefs, values, and principles, and even when they manage to do so, they lack the courage to validate or integrate them. A lack of courage is the overarching theme -- they are afraid to rebel, afraid to stand out, afraid to go against the current. This is because original thinking and unapologetic individuality was not encouraged in early life, but rather they were punished for being “different” or more so rewarded for aligning with authority to the point where it was painfully futile to protest or even disagree. Conformity becomes a weakness because the native doesn’t understand that it isn’t required, and can’t access or discover a way to openly be themselves.

Neptune: The subconscious realm is ignored and never explored, leaving the native with a self-unawareness that can’t be eradicated. They rely too heavily on logic or conscious rational thought; they often become the “see it to believe it” type of people and completely disregard their intuition & higher mind, which can cause great despair and a feeling of being lost or alone in their lives. They don’t trust themselves, they neglect their spiritual needs, and scramble to satisfy a deep inner longing that they don’t understand. Feeding the starved soul with oblivious superficial pleasures only makes the hunger worse, but they don’t see this. They may also lack the ability to be genuinely empathetic, and can be socially inept due to not being open to powerful spiritual connections with others.

Pluto: Transformation ravages the ego & “rattles the chain” of the native’s anchor in their own personal world. Intense depth -- whatever its nature -- can be unbelievably damaging to their whole psyche (especially their subconscious) because they resist it and refuse to understand its power and truth. They will be rather fragile and helpless during difficult times, and they won’t have the backbone to confront their wounds or problems. Circumstances and other people (especially hostile manipulators) get the best of them. By being unwilling to develop the courage or take action to defend and improve, they relinquish all their power to forces that wish to harm them, and then in their self-ignorance cannot fathom why they’re so often hurt by the world.

#mypost #astrology #zodiac #horoscope #interceptions #interception #intercepted #intercepted planet #planets #sun #moon #mercury #venus #mars #jupiter #saturn #uranus #neptune #pluto

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jaeneunguniversity · 7 years

Photo

Welcome to Jaeneung University. Be sure to add the school’s president, Kim Myungmin, and receive your orientation packet before you begin your studies!

—THE PAST

Life before it all. Before terror made a nest in her daily life. Before she found her calling. That life often whispers along her spine as a subtle reminder of its existence. How could she forget? That precious little girl with an obsession with dolls and loved braiding her mother’s hair. That girl, Lee Sangbi, was born in the countryside South Korea. Her father was a popular political figure that had a good standing with the military and her mother was nothing more than one of his many mistress’. Despite the scandal that came with her birth - Sangbi was everything and more to her mother. She was the only human that understood her mother’s constant isolation, her tantrums, even her oblivious demeanor towards the outside world. It was incredibly uncommon for a girl of her age and social position to take such an interest in being alone, but it was something her mother adored about her only daughter. It was in that sheltered household that she fell victim to her own innocence.

If only her mother knew about the monster lurking beneath her moist flesh. Growing up was easy for Sangbi. She grew into her curves with grace and constantly doted on her silky locks as if they never settled the way she desired. She never knew fear, but it knew her. It wasn’t until she was 13 that her family began to notice odd happenings in the household. At first, it was mindless pranks that she pulled on the gardener by making him believe that he was being attacked by bees. Then, the boy next door had a panic attack because he was seeing demons scratching at the fence. Nothing but fun, really. Well, daddy certainly wasn’t thrilled. No one was.

“Demon! She’s the antichrist embodied. The end is upon us, don’t you see!? She will bring suffering upon us all!”

It wasn’t long until her own father began to believe that rumors. Inhuman, he called her. Witch. Satan. Lilith. There wasn’t a name in the book that he didn’t slap on her as she grew older…and as she did, the more control she lost of her ability. The fear that came with seeing her parent’s disgusted faces when she passed from room to room began seeping from her pores and into the night air. Not a soul in the house didn’t suffer from terrible nightmares.

“She cannot leave. What will become of this family when the world finds out we gave birth to the devil? No, I won’t let that happen. Not under my roof.”

That was the last time she saw sunshine for the following 6 years. At 18, all she knew was fear. She could see it in the maid’s faces as they slipped food into her room. It lingered in the air when guests came to pray for her family. It was omnipresent. Always. Forever. The longer it sat within her the harder it became to maintain. Terrible, nauseating creatures roamed the house leaving trails of bile behind them and the longer they stayed, the realer they became. The only way to control them was to keep her sedated.

“I can’t- We can’t do this anymore! Don’t you see what she’s becoming!? Burn her…Burn the witch!”

Why they hadn’t contemplated the idea that she was a mutant, not an offender of God, was always a mystery to her. Fire was something she always had a tentative relationship with. It didn’t scare her, but she was well aware of its capability. Members of their church gathered in the back of her family’s expansive property a prepared the makings of a bonfire. Almost 4 feet of wood nestled together with a singular cross sticking out the middle.

“Hurry! She’ll wake when she smells smoke! Get her on the cross before she opens her eyes.”

Ah, there was that familiar feeling. It felt like a poison dancing through her veins until it reached her cheeks and turned her flesh a soft pink. Terror. Sangbi knew it all too well. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know what awaited her. The sweet smell of gasoline and freshly chopped wood told her a story she never wished to tell another soul. Their fear, once intolerable, became a sort of nutrients for her that night. She fed from them long before they tried to tie her to the cross. Every single panicked whisper that fluttered from their lips, the hushed sighs as they doused her in gasoline, soft sobs from her own mother. Each sound perfected her awareness of the situation, but she was afraid, terribly afraid.

As expected, she reacted. Every little fear she could sense dancing around their ignorant little minds became clearer than the deafening screams that followed. Eyes shut, body limp on the ground, she didn’t dare move. Then…silence. It almost scared her more than the actual chaos. It was all suddenly so real, the past blended with the present, and motionless bodies lay still around her when she finally gathered the courage to see what her terror was capable of.

What she saw…was unbearable. Disfigured, violent versions of herself stood over the bodies of everyone attending her execution. It made sense considering that they all had a collective fear of her, but still…the way they looked at her…It was as if they were seeing themselves for the first time as well. Bloodied nightgowns, pale skin, cold orbs. Was this what she was to them? A silent ghost, horned with the devil’s seed deep within her, just as real as she was. Without a word, each mirrored fear doused themselves in gasoline and piled together around the cross she was meant to bear.

“To know no fear - you must kill it.” They hissed in unison.

She did. With the casual flick of her wrist each log and body ignited into flames and she watched her creation’s flesh peeling away, their faces as stoic as her own. It was as if her body overdosed on terror and she was now numb to its effect. For a long time Sangbi sat motionless at the edge of the fire, watching until nothing but a small pile of ember remained. Her creations, the bodies, her past, herself - had all been reduced to nothing but ash.

It was time to move on. After all, it is better to be feared than loved, if you cannot be both.

—THE PRESENT

Sangbi is often compared to the eerie loneliness of winter, the seclusion from a world spoiled with warmth, she is an island with forever falling snow. This can be seen in each crystal orb that adorns her face - cold, stone cold. Although it’s often assumed that because of her small stature and youthful face that she would be a warmer creature, her dissociative nature prevents her from openly expressing herself. Even without a sensitive vocabulary, she is incredibly well-educated and polite. Her greatest pride comes with countless hours of etiquette classes that have over the years molded her into the elegant being she is today. The most obvious result being that she emanates an aura of benign vapidness that causes much of her company to look upon her with disdain. Her speech suggests constant boredom and her actions naïveté. She can be seen as lacking control over her life or willpower, hence the near-constant struggle she has with maintaining her ability. In fact, she can be exceedingly self-destructive behind her graceful demeanor - although only when nobody is watching.

—THE ABILITY

Fear manifestation is the ability to bring the fears of others and one’s self to reality. There are two levels of said fear’s existence. At first, they are nothing more than incredibly realistic illusions that only those inflicted may see, but if the fear lingers for too long then they gain a life of their own. Once it has seeped into reality the user can no longer control it. Also, if the target has no fears then his ability will have no effect. These fears could range from monsters to clowns. It is always completely subjective to the target. The user can understand and visualize any human’s fear, but cannot manifest said terror unless she isn’t afraid of it due to the fact that it could backlash and the illusion could latch onto her if it senses her own hesitations.

#accepted app

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