#yes i did edit this myself and i am very proud of it

[kalmeria]

please watch my magnum opus (volume up!!)

[video description: a clip from the music video of eccentric party night by the five eccentrics from ensemble stars, but the audio is replaced with rumadai by arsenium. end description]

#ensemble stars #the five eccentrics #eccentric party night #is this song a thing for other ppl?? although who cares if us folks miss out for once #*US. just be be perfectly clear. this song is a thing in my country is what im trying to say #yes I am very proud of myself thank you for asking #I made this with just screen recording. like a recorded the mv and then recorded playing the song under it #was only gonna be the main chorus but then rei’s bonjour happened #so I had to go back and record more of the mv bc I didn’t have enough. and then try and sync it up again #anyways I just cured my own depression #EVERYBODY DANCE DANCE DANCE IN THE DISCO RUMADAI DAI RUMA RUMA RUMA DAI #enstars #I donft fwwl like tagging everyone can’t you tell how much aotucorrwcf was used in these few lines already #GUESS FUCKIN GWHAT NEW PINNED #watching this on repeat #I need to reiterate that I did not have any way to edit this #I had a few moments I was trying to sync together like the very beginning and then the bonjour #and natsume and kanata at the feel so high part #but stuff like the second San Francisco with kanata in the middle syncing up so well?? it was all just luck #cuts of weird bc the mv ends so then I decided to cut it off a bit earlier to make it more loopabls #pinned

[i-hate-accidents]

i hate accidents: the beginning

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

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

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

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

content warnings:  classism, mentions of financial survival, microaggressive sexism, microaggressive gender assumption, positive/supportive families, allusions to alcohol abuse in [I.viii]

word count:  13.9k (of 38.8k)

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

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

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

reading tip: whilst the author is proud of it, she understands the intro to the first section is long. if you wish to get more straight to y/n and benedict's story, the author suggests jumping to [I.ii]. they won't be offended that you did heh.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.i ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

you do not know how you got here.

well, that is not true; you quite literally walked from the markets and followed the directions that penelope had given you, but you did not think those directions would lead you here.

this is a mistake.  i must have taken a wrong turn, gone up instead of down, made a left when i should’ve taken a right. 

or perhaps this is a dream?  yes!  that has to be it!  a dream!  i must have lulled off and dreamt myself here, for whatever reason.  once i close my eyes and open them again, surely i will be at home, or the markets, or the workshop even.  surely!  

so, you close your eyes shut.

you had been walking about the markets on your non-work day, some weeks ago, browsing the wares you wouldn’t (and couldn’t) buy, eavesdropping on any conversation of intrigue, observing the bustle of the crowd going about their day, mindlessly thinking of the next thing to write, daydreaming—when you had collided with someone.  they had let out a squeak, their materials flying out of their hands, as you had fallen on your back, thankfully not hitting your head.  in your periphery, you had seen how the person had crawled to your side and looked at you with urgency and concern.

“i am so sorry!”  their voice was pretty.  sweet and lovely.  you lifted yourself up a bit to see the person you had collided with.  they were also pretty— beautiful, red-haired, and hooded in blue.  

their eyes widened.

“er, i meant,” they spoke again, but this time with an— irish accent?  their voice was still sweet and lovely but very distinctly irish and distinctly different from their voice mere moments before. “are you hurt?”

“i am all right, thank you.”

“very well,” they said, still in their irish accent, “then i must be going—”  and they shot themself up and turned, you assumed, to run away.

“wait!  you’re a writer, yes?”

as you had hoped, the person in blue froze.  they slowly turned to you again, apprehension and intrigue in their eyes.

“how do you know?”  their voice was mangled between their two accents.

“unless you pluck birds for fun,” you stated as you collected the scattered materials they had dropped in the collision, “these are quills.”

you stood up, approached them, and held out their quills to take, offering a smile.  the stranger took the quills and put them in their bag.  they returned their eyes to you and returned your smile.

“thank you,” they responded in their english accent.

“i know how precious those are, so i am very glad to see they won’t go to waste.  well, they wouldn’t have gone to waste either way; i would’ve taken them if you hadn’t turned around.”

that caused the person in blue to laugh.

“i assume you are a writer?” they inquired.

you don’t know what had overcome you; you don’t know why you had been so trusting of this stranger, especially with something such as your writing, but you had been. you reached for your then most recent, folded up quarto, kept between your bosom and your blouse, and offered it to the stranger to read.  they took it, shifted their eyes from line to line, turned it to read the crossed lines, and then looked up at you, beaming.

“this is brilliant!— oh, forgive me; i did not even ask for your name.”

“y/n,” you extended your hand.  “and you?”

the stranger seemed to stiffen but quickly relaxed themself, taking your hand in theirs and shaking them.  they beamed still, but something of their smile had grown quietly mischievous.

“can you keep a secret?”

when you open your eyes, you huff out a breath in a poor attempt to assuage yourself from the reality of your situation:  you are not dreaming.  here you are—you—at grosvenor square.  

you knew of your friend’s circumstances as she had shared it:  she is a noble lady, a third sister of the featherington family, who has been writing scandal sheets of high society’s romps and happenings since her ‘debut,’ as she had put it (you hadn’t understood how she had used that word and became further confused upon her explanation of it), under a pseudonym called lady whistledown.  penelope has been kind enough to let you read her sheets, and you find it ridiculous what these high society persons do for their lives and utterly brilliant with what wit, snark, and compassion even penelope commentates on that world.  

but you did not ever, ever think that she would bring you to it, let alone into it.  when penelope had said that you were to meet her most beloved friend, you had thought it would be in an obscure alley or a room hidden behind a bookcase in an unassuming shop—not the literal neighborhood in which she, and presumably her friend, lives!  by your posture, by your clothes, by your very existence, it is blatant how much you do not belong here.

i should run.  i am going to run.

and so you turn and start—

“y/n!”

—when you hear the sweet voice of your friend.  you scrunch your eyes closed, inhaling and exhaling through your nose, and turn around and see penelope in a picturesque green dress, lifting up her skirt with gloved hands, scurrying down the pavement of her neighborhood towards you, beaming.  despite the anxiety that rages within you at this very moment, your heart swells upon seeing your friend in such enthusiastic spirits, and you smile despite yourself.

“good day, pen.”

she takes hold of your bare hands in her gloved ones and gives them a squeeze.  perhaps she can discern your nerves because you start to feel yourself calm ever so slightly by her gesture.

“i am so glad you are here,” she says.

“i am—— glad to see you,” you then lower your voice.  you do not know why; it is not as if your lowered voice will help conceal your existence in this place.  “are you certain i am permitted to be here?”

letting go of your hands, penelope swats at the question.

“the bridgertons and i care not about such things.”

“the— bridgertons?” 

“yes!” she turns and gestures to the grand brick house with wisterias.  “it is at their home, after all, in which we will be spending our time together.”

your jaw drops.

“we are staying inside the house?  not simply meeting outside the house?”

this is not a dream.  this is a nightmare.

penelope returns her eyes to yours, and it startles you with what tenderness she gazes at you.

“i understand that you are fearful, y/n.  i had presumed you would not have come if you had known we would be here.  but i would not have led you to bridgerton house if i did not think you would be safe here.  the bridgertons are the most inviting, kindly family of the ton— of high society,” she amends upon seeing your confusion at the word ‘ton.’  their name for their world, it seems.  “eloise has assured me that we shall be in her bedchamber for the entirety of our time together.  and if you wish to leave, for any reason, at any point, i shall accompany you, and we shall leave together.”

with closed eyes you heave a sigh through your nose.  you flutter your eyes open and offer penelope a weak, but sincere, smile.

“very well.”

penelope squeaks in excitement, taking hold of your hand once more, giving it another squeeze of encouragement, and leads you towards this bridgerton house as she so called it.  she raps at the stately door thrice with great eagerness, seeming to knock in perfect tandem with your beating-too-quickly heart.

an elderly man opens the door, about to greet penelope and her guest, when a young femme shoves herself through the opening.

“thank you, giles!” she calls out as if the man is across the road and then looks at you, ferocity in her eyes.  it ought to unnerve you, the whirlwind force of this stranger, but it doesn’t.  you just return her gaze with a large, albeit a bit bemused, smile.

“penelope has shared so much about you,” the stranger states and takes hold of your hand.  “let us get inside!” and yanks you into the house.  she turns, looking straight ahead, and barrels forward, pulling you with her.

as the fiery femme seems to soliloquize excitedly to herself, you look back at penelope who merely wears an amused smile at her friend’s antics as she follows behind.

“oh!” the femme exclaims suddenly.  she halts you both and sharply turns to you, still gripping your hand, grinning.  “my name is eloise.  eloise bridgerton.”

“y/n y/l/n.”

“excellent.  now!  with introductions all sorted—”

and she turns and barrels you both right, rather than heading straight ahead to the grand staircase as you had presumed she would.

“eloise—” eloise’s fervency had provided a reprieve to your anxiety, but the confusion in penelope’s voice puts you back ill at ease, “where are you—”

“it’ll take just a moment, worry not, pen!”

eloise leads you down a hall, noises and voices of all sorts coming from an entrance to a room, growing louder and louder as you approach until they reach the peaks of their volume as eloise halts you both once more, to your mortification, at the entrance of that very room.

“family, penelope, y/n, and i shall be in my bedchamber.  we have much to discuss.  please do not bother us,” eloise proudly announces to the entirety of the room.

silence falls.  all eyes—and there are many eyes—are on you.

oh, my god.

you turn to penelope.  her overall manner is calm and composed, but you can see the disquiet in her eyes.  she peers into you, the apologetic look conveying, i did not know this would happen.

you turn back to the family.  

a lady.  a lady of older age.  two gentlemen with a difference in age.  a boy.  a girl, the youngest amongst them.  

how is it with a house this massive in the middle of the city that the entire family is present in this one room?  well, the room is the size of the two floors of your home combined, if not larger, so in that sense it is sound—but your question still stands.

this has to be the entire family.  surely.  there are so many of them.  this has to be the entire family.  yes?

“no talking, no music playing, no fighting?” inquires a droll voice walking into the room, “has someone—” 

you turn your head to follow the source of the voice and make contact with dumbfounded ocean eyes.   

butterflies flutter in your stomach.

oh.

shit.

“y/n, this is my second eldest brother, benedict bridgerton,” eloise states.  “benedict, this is my friend, y/n y/l/n.  do not bother us once we are in my bedchamber.”

he stares and blinks at you but then assumes a gentlemanly posture and bows his head.

“it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss y/l/n.”

without any forethought you start to extend a hand to benedict until you hear penelope give a slight cough only you, she, eloise, and he can hear.  receiving the hint, you retract your hand and pretend to swat at your skirt.

“err— yes.  likewise.” 

another cough. 

“mis, ter?— brid… ger?—ton,” you articulate with complete and utter uncertainty of how this world’s introductions function.

he cocks his head and furrows his eyebrows at you, something like amusement playing at his features.  he wears a lopsided smile that he is barely attempting to conceal.  his expression should be infuriating.  and it is.  but, it is... charming, too.  and welcomed.

you have never felt more embarrassed or more pleased in your life.

shit.

“before the three of you retreat to eloise’s bedchamber,” declares an authoritative voice, breaking your reverie.  you turn away from ocean eyes and see the lady of the room approaching you.  much to your surprise, she smiles.  to an even greater surprise, her smile seems sincere.  “i must insist that i introduce myself and the rest of the family to our guest.  

“i am viscountess kathani sharma bridgerton, the lady of this house,” she curtsies with perfect elegance.  “it is a delight to welcome you to our home, miss y/l/n.”

“thank you for having me— lady bridgerton.  and you may call me ‘y/n.’  you need not use such, uh, formalities with me.”

“very well; then you may call me ‘kate.’”

you furrow your eyebrows.  she had introduced herself as ‘kathani’ but now asks you to call her ‘kate.’  it makes you think of mama and papa; they shared with you once how they had chosen to go by different names upon emigrating to england.  when you had asked why, they simply replied that it would be easier for others in this country to address them.  

“may i call you ‘kathani’ instead?”

surprise flashes over the dignified demeanor of the viscountess.  she regards you with softness in her eyes.

“yes.  yes, you may.”

resuming her full composure, kathani guides you to the eldest of the gentlemen and introduces him as her husband, viscount anthony bridgerton, the lord of the house.  he offers you a small smile with a bow of his head and greets you ‘good day.’  you try not to wince at his decorous use of ‘miss’ with your first name, but you suppose it is merely in these people’s natures.  

kathani continues and leads you to the lady of older age, introducing her as dowager viscountess violet bridgerton.  she dips into a lovely curtsy and, on her rise, gazes upon you with a gentle smile.  you feel compelled to respond in kind, but it would certainly not be as graceful as hers, and worse, she may interpret your slovenly attempt as a lark.  so, you refrain.  

the viscountess next introduces you to mister colin bridgerton (you summon all your self-restraint to keep your countenance neutral—this is the boy who hurt penelope); then to mister gregory bridgerton (he bows so ceremoniously towards you, you cannot help but be endeared by his resolve); and lastly to miss hyacinth bridgerton.

“why are you dressed like that?” she inquires.

“hyacinth!” the dowager viscountess reprimands.  she must be her mother.  she sounds like a mother.  it reminds you of how your mama reprimanded you and your siblings as little ones; the memory and the exchange make you hold back a laugh.

“what!  what did i say wrong?”

you ought to feel self-conscious, your lower standing brought into further display to everyone in the room, but you detect neither malice nor judgment in the young girl’s voice.  just genuine curiosity.  so, you smile.

“my family and i have different means to clothes, amongst other things.  i wear these when i work or go about my day.  though,” you regard your attire and then— hyacinth?, feeling the glimmer in your eye, “it makes for running around and playing make-believe quite easy.”

“make-believe!  gregory, do you hear that!  miss!— miss—“ she turns to you with a cocked head.  

“y/n.”

her eyes shine once again.

“miss y/n plays make-believe!  we must play!” hyacinth latches onto your hand and, with remarkable strength for a child who cannot be older than two and ten, pulls and drags you towards the entrance of the room.  “come along, gregory!  wouldn’t want to be the last one there!”

“no fair!  you cheated!” the second youngest shouts back, dropping all previous ceremonies, and scrambles towards the entrance.

“hyacinth!  y/n is not your playmate!  she is here with me and penelope!”

“plans do change, dear sister,” hyacinth retorts.  eloise’s jaw drops, and the rest of the family bursts into laughter.  the entire exchange warms your heart.  in so many ways, they are so proper, so wealthy, and yet they are not all so different from your own family.  they seem to really care for one another.

“when did you get so smug!” eloise shoots back.

“small wonder where she could’ve learned that from,” you hear colin, the traitor, murmur.  turning your head, you see him give amused, pointed looks to eloise and kathani.  the latter grins wickedly, and her husband beams at her with pride. 

“there are only so many hours in a day!” hyacinth complains.  you face her once more, still holding her hand.

“what about this?  i will play with you and your brother for an hour, and then i will be with your sister and penelope for my remaining time here.  i want to honor the wishes of each of my new friends.”

hyacinth considers this with much theatricality to her expression.  she then grins.

“that is an excellent plan,” she remarks, looking to eloise for her thoughts.  you follow her line of sight.  eloise rolls her eyes and sighs, but a smile rests on her lips.

“very well, then.”

feeling peace restored, you smile in return and, in doing so, in your periphery, catch the ocean eyes of the second eldest brother.  benedict.  he is looking at you.  why is that?  you feel your cheeks flush and the tips of your ears heat.  his gaze is somehow gentle and intense and indecipherable all at once, and the flutterings in the pit of your stomach grow, and intensify, and start to overwhelm you—

when you are tugged back to reality with a tug forward.

–

< hyacinth leads y/n through the house to the gardens with gregory by her side.  y/n is both uneasy and in awe of the things she sees.  eventually, they arrive in the gardens.  y/n notices two swings hanging off of a large branch of an old tree and is utterly endeared by the sight; it confirms what she has been thinking:  though the bridgertons are wealthy, they are warm and welcoming.

< just as hyacinth declares that she has found a suitable spot for make-believe, two male voices ask if they may join.  hyacinth, gregory, and y/n turn and see benedict and colin approaching.  colin shares that though y/n seems lovely, it would be unwise of the family to leave the two youngest with a stranger; though y/n agrees with his family’s caution, she refrains from wanting to strangle the person who hurt her friend.

< gregory whines and asks if they can begin before eloise complains.  hyacinth agrees and says that they need to assign characters.  y/n suggests that hyacinth should be a sorceress and gregory should be a knight; these proposals delight the youngest bridgertons.  y/n volunteers herself as the villain and decides to be a banshee; she turns to the elder bridgertons and asks what they wish to be. 

< before they have a chance to respond, hyacinth proposes that benedict should be the princess who has been captured.  benedict indignantly asks why, and hyacinth simply states because he is the most sensitive of the family.  sensing how the sibling argument is about to evolve, y/n intervenes and suggests that, like a sensitive princess, perhaps benedict is merely in tuned with his emotions, even amidst adversity; it is, in its own way, a compliment.  benedict’s eyes become indecipherable upon the comment, but he wears a small sincere smile.  gregory then proposes that colin is y/n’s changeling henchman. 

< make-believe ensues, and it is very sweet and very silly.  eventually, gregory is called in for latin tutoring and thanks y/n for the fun with a deep bow; hyacinth is called in for pianoforte lessons. >

hyacinth launches herself at you with a hug.  pulling back from the embrace, she beams.

“we must continue when you return next!”

before you can even start to reply, she turns and skips off towards the house.  you hear how gregory makes a comment about coming in first, and suddenly the youngest bridgertons are in a race against one another, shouting taunts and insults.  you can’t help but smile.

“they seem to quite like you.”

your smile falls.  you turn and face towards the two elder bridgertons, the traitor being the one to have spoken.

“colin bridgerton,” you begin, “yes?”

he smiles and nods.  you surge forward and shove your finger into his face, his smile now wiped.

“if you ever hurt penelope again, i shall make certain that it is the last time you ever do.  do i make myself clear?”

when he does not respond, you repeat yourself, and he slowly then quickly nods.  satisfied, you turn towards ocean eyes and point your finger at him.

“and you look after him.” 

“what did i do?”   

“be a proper elder brother and serve as an example for your misguided sibling.  understood?”  

“i— yes.  of course.  understood.” 

you smile again.

“wonderful.  i am glad we three are in agreement.  it was good speaking with you, gentlemen.  good day.” 

you turn away and start to walk towards the house.

“i quite like her too,”  and you hear the restored smile in the third bridgerton’s voice.  “what about you, brother?”

you hasten your steps towards the house.  though mere moments before you had felt emboldened and brave, you fear hearing benedict’s response.  you do not why.

–

< eloise, penelope, and y/n extensively discuss literature and writing; upon talking about women writers, y/n shares how she does not fully see herself as just a woman. >

“so, what are you?”

you wince.  you have kept good on your promise and joined eloise and penelope in the former’s bedchamber, but you are swiftly wishing you had been able to stay with hyacinth, gregory, colin even, and benedict.  you had attempted to explain an aspect of yourself to eloise but not to very much fruit, it seems.  you want to hide and escape and run from this place—

“eloise.”

—when penelope comes to your defense.  

“what?  what is it?”

“perhaps you could have phrased your question with more tact and thoughtfulness.”

eloise looks between the two of you, concern flooding her eyes.

“did i— did i not?”

penelope turns to you.

“are you comfortable to answer?”

“i would prefer that i didn’t.”

you hope that your eyes are sufficient enough to convey the immensity of gratitude that you feel towards penelope in this very moment.

“y/n,” begins eloise, “i did not realize—”

“and what are you three gossiping about?”

you jump, penelope squeaks, and eloise growls a noise of exasperation.  turning towards the voice in the doorway, you are visited, once again, by the third and second bridgerton siblings.

“and what makes you think we are gossiping?” demands eloise, “because we are w— people?”

you feel the corners of your mouth tug upward.  at least she is trying.  wanting to keep the attention on benedict and colin rather than yourself, however, and with genuine curiosity, you cock your head at the two gentlemen.

“do you two always come in a pair?”

“not always,” replies benedict.  and he smiles at you, “today is merely a special occasion.”

stupid butterflies.

“speaking of such,” colin proceeds.  “kate has requested that the three of you join the family in the drawing room.”

< the five of them make their way to the drawing room.  kate shares that, on behalf of the family, she would like to invite both y/n and penelope to dinner.  though at first honored to have been invited, upon hearing “dinner,” y/n realizes how late it has become and looks out the window:  the sun is halfway set.  she apologizes and says that she cannot stay because she resumes work the next day.  her latter statement renders some of the people in the room confused, but kathani states how she understands and that y/n is welcomed to join dinner whenever she visits.  

< seeing how confused y/n is, anthony shares that y/n is welcomed to visit their home whenever she is able and whenever she would like, and the rest of the family pipes in with how delighted they would be if she does.  not knowing how she deserved such kindness from people who were mere strangers at the start of the day, y/n thanks the bridgertons and says that she would love to.  penelope chooses to stay for dinner and says that she will see y/n next week.  y/n affirms that she, and the bridgertons, will.

< kathani and benedict offer to escort y/n to the entrance.  y/n walks down the steps and passes the gate but, before she goes, takes one last look at number five until next week and sees benedict still in the doorway.  y/n notices, but reprimands herself for perhaps imagining it, that his smile grows when his eyes lock with hers.  with flutterings in her stomach, y/n offers a wave.  he gives a small wave back.  she turns and goes, smiling all the way home. >

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.ii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“benedict has been making more appearances as of late,” penelope remarks.

the three of you all look up—you and pen from your writing, eloise from her reading—to see benedict entering through the doors and heading towards the other side of the drawing room.  he looks over at you— at you all and offers a smile before he plops himself down onto a chaise and begins to draw.

“yes, it is strange,” eloise considers to the two of you.  “for so long he had been moping about, locked away in his bedchamber aside from mealtime or the occasional visit to the drawing room.  he’s even picked up his charcoal again.”

“again?” you inquire, averting your gaze from the artist to your friend.  “had he stopped prior?”

“he had entirely put it down after—” eloise sighs.  whatever memory she has recounted, it does not seem to be a pleasant one.  you look to penelope; you sense that she shares a similar sentiment by the sad look in her eyes.  you are curious but you choose not to press.  

“it has been quite some time since he’s last drawn.  but now, whenever i see him, whether in his bedchamber or the billiards room or some other room in the house, he’s drawing.  he frequently arrives to mealtime with charcoal stained fingers—much to the chagrin of mama and anthony.”

you all laugh.  benedict looks up at you three, and from here you can tell he wears a curious expression, no doubt wondering what you are laughing about.  when he exaggeratedly arches an eyebrow, eloise just makes a face at him.  benedict rolls his eyes, smiling, and for the briefest moment, you feel as though he is looking at you.  but you’ve always had an active imagination.  when you blink, he has returned to his drawing, a smile still on his lips.

“i wonder what has changed?” eloise softly says, still looking at benedict.  for all her fire and spirit, you see how deeply she cares for her second eldest brother.

“perhaps he has found a muse,” penelope poses rather than queries.  you shift your gaze from eloise to penelope, and you’re curious about her expression.  she seems... delighted?  benedict finding his passion for art again does sound delightful; you know firsthand how difficult it is to pick yourself up from a slump.  but that’s not what she seems delighted by.  she just looks at you.  with a soft smile.  why?  what does benedict have anything to do with you?

you feel your cheeks and the tips of your ears flood with warmth.  you don’t know why, but penelope’s expression unnerves you, in a pleasant sensational way.

you clear your throat.

“i am happy for him,” you say, returning to your quill and folded quarto, haphazardly writing down whatever words come to your mind.  

ocean.  charcoal.  smile.  flutters.

shit.

it is not until what feels like an uncharacteristically long moment later that you hear penelope resume her writing and eloise resume her reading.  you try not to imagine what they could have silently exchanged with your gaze averted.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.iii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

you suck in a sharp breath and shoot out of your seat.

“you do not!” you shriek, hastening towards kathani, eloise, and the stack of books they have just settled onto the table.  you had arrived early to the bridgertons’ home, at the invitation of kathani, so early that the rest of the family seems not yet to be awake.  

(which is strange, you find, as it is nearing 8 o’clock.  most mornings, at this time, you are already well into the bustle of work.)  

kathani had prefaced, rather enigmatically, that she and eloise had a surprise they wished to share with you.  you had your suspicions as to what it could be related to, and with each passing moment, you are suspecting, very excitingly!, that you are very correct. 

“indeed, we do,” kathani grins and gestures to the stacks.  

taking no hesitation to the offer, you grab from the top of a stack and open to the title page.

the dramatic works of william shakespeare.  vol. 2:  a midsummer night’s dream / the merry wives of windsor / much ado about nothing.

you shriek again, this time accompanied with hops of excitement, flipping to the final third of the book.

“much ado!  this is the one i’ve read!” 

dorothea, a fruit seller, had offered a copy of it to you (at a lowered price, she had emphasized) when she had learned of your liking to stories.  she grandly stated that she had started to write down the dialogue during low-attendance performances at the theater and then brought her handiwork to be typed and printed at a not-to-be-named press.  but if the pages’ handwritten annotations alluded to anything, you suspected that she had managed to purloin a performer’s copy of the script.  you felt a bit of pity for the poor performer who misplaced it, but you respected, and still respect!, dorothea’s moonlighting. 

you shoot your head up from the book and are greeted by the grins of your two friends.  “which one has romeo and juliet?”

this past autumn you had overheard several candlemakers at the markets animatedly discussing the ‘incandescent’ portrayal of the titular character by an actress from ireland.  a performance, described as ‘incandescent’ by candlemakers!  embodied by a storyteller who has emigrated here!  hearing all those wondrous things made you insatiably curious to one day read the text that made such wondrous things happen.

“i believe,” eloise says, pulling the second from the bottom of a stack, “it is this one.”

you twitch your fingers; you have to refrain yourself from snatching the book from your friend’s hand.  when it is in yours, you open to the title page and feel your eyes, along with your smile, widen.

“it is, it is!  oh, this is extraordinary!”  you flip furiously to your desired page and, once you find it, start to read,  

prologue.  two households—

—when you hear kathani say, “we had thought of starting with that one.”

that makes you rip your eyes away from the words and look up at the two ladies.

“‘starting with’?”

“when eloise, penelope, and i learned of your eagerness to read shakespeare,” elaborates kathani.  her saying that makes you flush; you had not realized with what apparent enthusiasm you had spoken of the poet.  “the three of us had discussed that the four of us could read his plays together.  if you would like, of course.”

your jaw drops.  you cannot help the squeal that emits from your mouth.  hopping once again in your excitement, you throw yourself at your friends and wrap your arms around them both.

“if i would like!  i would be delighted!”

you pull back from your hug with the two ladies and are greeted by gleaming eyes and wide grins.  you feel how your expression matches theirs.  it has only been a little over a month of your friendship with eloise and kathani, and the rest of the bridgertons at number five, but they each have somehow found a way to carve themselves out in your heart.  and if this most recent kindness by eloise and kathani indicates anything, perhaps you have found a way to carve yourself out in each of theirs.

(and you promptly ignore the thought of what that could possibly mean for ocean eyes and charcoal-stained hands, flutterings within you be damned.)

“how shall we allocate the book?” you say aloud out of genuine inquiry and a deep desire to revert your heart, mind elsewhere.  “shall we read passages aloud and then pass it on to the next reader?”

< eloise makes a remark that indicates her confusion at y/n’s question.  kathani, who is more privy to the situation, shares how she has her own copy as do eloise and penelope.  the stack that they’ve brought is an extra set that the bridgerton house has that y/n can use.  this perplexes y/n.  she cannot understand how a household can have multiple copies of a book, let alone copies of a whole anthology of many books.  before y/n can doom-spiral into thinking, penelope arrives at the entrance of the drawing room.  reading of romeo and juliet commences.  

< just as y/n finishes reading the scene in which romeo and juliet meet for the first time at the capulet ball and then kiss, y/n notices in her periphery benedict approaching the four.  kathani remarks how unusually early he is to be awake and ready for the day; y/n notes to herself how there seems to be some sort of mischief in the viscountess’s smile. >

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.iv ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“i shall be y/n’s teacher,” the viscount declares.

“you were adamant on her not fencing, and now you are insistent on being her teacher?”

“it would be hardly appropriate, colin, for two young unmarried men to be in such close proximity to a young unmarried lady, as proximity of teacher and student in fencing would require.”

“are you always this— antiquated?”  you inquire.

that earns a snort from kathani.  anthony, looking betrayed, turns to his wife; she merely shrugs in reply, mirth shining in her eyes.  he turns back to you, eyebrows deeply furrowed and mouth fully frowning.

“and what do you insinuate by that!”

“are you so distrustful of your own brothers, the ones for whom you have served, and still serve, as a model, that you think they would take advantage of me in such a situation—”

you sense how the eldest bridgerton is about to retaliate and arch a severe eyebrow at him in response; you refuse to be interrupted.

“or are you so unbelieving in persons of feminine dispositions that you think i shall be compromised by the mere closeness of a body different from my own sex?”

there is a silence, and though you cannot see them as you stare down the viscount, you can feel how the others exchange delighted glances with one another and hold back their laughter.

“you have two choices, my lord,” you offer.

“neither of them are suitable!  and do not call me ‘my lord’!”

“is that not the proper way to address you?”

“it is, but you—!” he huffs out air through his nostrils, like an indignant dragon in a fairytale; it is a very silly, very amusing sight.  “we have not even begun the lesson and you are already the most exasperating student i’ve ever had!”

you turn to colin and benedict, grinning.

“you two must have been saints then.”

“would you expect any less?” colin grins back.

your wide smile remains intact until your eyes fall on the expression of benedict.  you are entirely uncertain of what emotion he could be possibly feeling until he seems to realize where he is, and how you are looking at him, and breaks out into a brilliant smile with matching brilliant ocean eyes.  you quickly snap your head away from him, ignoring the fluttering of butterflies summoned within you upon the shift in benedict’s expression, and turn to anthony.

“shall we begin, then?”

–

it turns out that you are quite the quick learner when it comes to fencing.  after putting on a fencing vest that had previously belonged to benedict—

“because you are the shortest of the three of us, brother,” remarked colin after the second son inquired why it had to be his former vest that you were to wear.  benedict scrunched his nose and eyebrows in displeasure.  (perhaps you should have taken offense to his opposition, but it was truly of no personal consequence to you and the reaction it created in him was truly adorable.)

“i am not!”

“you are, indeed,” anthony deadpanned.

“prove it!”

and the three eldest sons of the esteemed bridgerton family stood next to one another, comparing their heights.  you turned to kathani, eloise, and penelope.

“are they always like this?”

“idiotic?” eloise deadpanned, sounding remarkably like her eldest brother.

“indeed, they are,” grinned kathani.

—over your blouse, you are immediately put to lessons.  anthony explains the basic concepts of fencing and then demonstrates elementary strikes and parries, occasionally adjusting your stances to the proper forms.  noting how quickly you took to the lessons, he calls for a match between the two of you to observe how you would apply your skills in combat.

“you are retaining information exceptionally well, as well as executing the techniques rather impressively,” states your teacher as you deflect his strike.  you try to hide your gladness in his praise as you smirk and push his blade away with the terzo of yours.

“ah, so my sex is not a detriment to my abilities; that is good to know.”

you hear snickers and snorts from around you.

“i said nothing of the sort!”

“did you think it?”

your opponent frowns further, slightly turning his head away from you to steal a glance at his wife.  he turns back to you.

“i did,” he admits defeatedly.

“it takes a true man of honor to rise up to his folly,” you remark honestly, as you strike anthony’s arm with the tip of your sabre.  loud cheers burst from the onlookers and an aghast but proud look emerges on the countenance of your teacher; you grin, “and a fool to leave his defenses so easily open.”

impressed by your display of sport, and seemingly overcoming his antiquation, at least for the moment, anthony decides that you will match against colin and then benedict.

“how are you to improve if you are to face the same opponent?” claims your teacher with his usual air of annoyance, but you detect his pride in your accomplishment.

it is also decided that the matches will end when one scores a point.

and so, you face colin.  it is easy to keep pace with him, not due to lack of skill on his part but complete and utter determination on yours.  you tried to convince yourself, in the beginning of your match, that the remnants of your anger towards the third bridgerton brother, and how he treated your friend, did not fuel your determination to score the point— but it did and does.  and successfully so, as you strike colin in his left shoulder.  perhaps you do it with too much force as the strike reels him off balance (and perhaps you are delighted that it has done so), but he quickly resumes composure and flashes you a grin.

“i see more and more everyday why you and pen are friends.”

that softens your heart.  you should be dubious of his charming remark, but you aren’t; it is too sincere, as is he, and you begin to see, even if minutely, why penelope cares for him.

“she has good taste in the company she keeps, i’m learning.”

that makes him laugh, as it does the others, and you look over and see how pen’s countenance shines with joy.  that is enough to put your anger towards colin at ease, and turning towards your defeated foe once more, you return his smile and bow your head.  bowing his head in kind, colin leaves, and in his place arrives your next and final opponent; he is smiling like a boy.  

“best for last?” he remarks as he prepares his starting position.  you roll your eyes, ignoring the warmth that starts to fill the center of your chest.

“this shall determine that,” and settled in your starting position, you and benedict begin your duel.

you have observed something of the eldest bridgerton brothers in your matches against them.  anthony struck like fire, bombastic and ferocious.  colin stood his ground like earth, his guards resolute.  and benedict— 

benedict moves like water.  free.  fluid.

as if he is dancing while dueling.

both you and he have reached a stalemate.  you have managed to parry every one of his strikes, and he has managed to deflect every one of yours.  you can feel how those watching are holding their breaths, waiting for someone to land the point.  

you try not to startle when you hear benedict’s voice as you guard against his strike.

“it takes quite an astonishing person to earn the praise of anthony bridgerton.”

“are you so surprised that i am such a person?”

“quite the opposite, y/n,” he catches one of your strikes and grins at you.  “i think you are entirely perfect in that regard.”

you roll your eyes once again but cannot help the blush that you feel spread across your cheeks as you push back his sabre with yours.  

“do you honestly think charm will win you the point?”

“do you find me charming?” you ignore the heat that creeps up your neck and the voice in your head that has already answered his question far too quickly for your liking.  “no, i do not think so lowly of such a formidable foe.”

and he winks at you.

and somehow, without you realizing how you got there, benedict strikes the center of your chest.

“but a little distraction does help.”

his point earns a round of groans and bleats from the crowd.  instead of looking offended, benedict just laughs and approaches you, gloved hand outstretched, a boyish smile once again on his face.  despite your loss, you cannot help but smile too.  you place your gloved hand in his. 

“it was a pleasure to duel with you.”

“yes.  likewise.”

perhaps you imagine it, but you feel his thumb swipe against the side of your hand.  it is featherlight, hardly felt with both your and his hands gloved, but felt nevertheless.  before you can process the sensation any further, he lets go of your hand.  with another smile, he bows his head at you as the crowd of people approach you both, penelope raving about your matches, eloise expressing her wish to fence now, anthony already commenting on what you could do better in your next match.

and without you realizing it, you gently swipe against the side of your gloved hand.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.v ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

"mama?  papa?"

it is a rare occasion when you, mama, papa, and your sibling eat together, and an even rarer occasion to do so for a second meal, but this night was such a night.  the three of them halt their conversation and look over to you.

"how did you know you were in love with one another?"

there is a small silence, but then, without looking at one another, they smile in tandem.

"it was at first sight, really, for me,” your papa says as he offers his hand to mama.  “as trite as that sounds."

mama takes his hand into hers.

"i as well."

"when i looked into your mama’s eyes, i knew that something was different.  that my life had changed."

"for the better, dearest?"

papa laughs heartily.

"no, actually.  it has been misery ever since."

you and your family laugh as mama playfully slaps at papa’s hand.  it warms your soul every time they do this, when they tease one another and are light because of the other.   it makes you believe in love each time.  

mama and papa lace their fingers together again, smiling, still gazing at one another.  as if it is just the two of them in their own world.  mama, turning her smile from papa to you, speaks again.

"the flutterings in my stomach wouldn’t quiet, and they only intensified as we approached closer to one another that day and grew closer to one another with time."

she looks nostalgic until something mischievous quickly overcedes her countenance.

"why do you ask, my dear?  has someone captured your eye?"

"or, better yet, your heart?" papa tags along.

ocean eyes and charcoal-stained hands flash by in your mind.

"no!" you say too hastily.  "no, of course not.  it’s— for one of my writings, is all."

you repeatedly poke at your bit of boiled chicken to avoid any further inquisition from your parents’ gazes.

–

sat by your window, you stare up at the night sky when the voice of your sibling infiltrates your dreaming.

“it’s one of the brothers, isn’t it?”

you whip your head over to them.  they don’t even look at you; they are preparing for bed.

“pardon me?” 

“is it the artist brother?”

“what!”

fluffing their pillow, they smile.

“so i am correct.”

“i didn’t even say anything!”

“that is not true.  you said ‘what.’”

“that reveals nothing!”

pleased with the setting of their bed, they ruin their work by plopping their bottom onto it as they finally face you in what you realize now is a confrontation.

“of course it doesn’t, the word on its own.  your reaction, however?  could not be more transparent of your feelings.”

“i have no feelings!”

“is that why you asked mama and papa about being in love?  because you have no feelings and you need to be told what they are?”

“i!—— i am going to bed!” you lift yourself up from your seat at the window sill, turning away from the peace of the night sky, and crash onto your bed.  you lay on your side, faced towards the wall, refusing to make eye contact with your sibling.  you lift up your sheet with too much force and lay it over your body and head.  “good!  night!”

after some silence, you hear the creak of your sibling’s bed and, a moment later, feel a featherlight touch on your upper arm.  you give it a thought, and perhaps against your better judgment, you lift off your sheet, turn, and are greeted by the gentlest of expressions from your sibling.

“i think it is wonderful, y/n.  whoever it is, they are very blessed to have your affections.”

your heart swells.  you love your sibling.

“how did you know it was the artist brother?”  

“so i am correct!”  they smile with a shrug.  “i deduced based on how much you’ve been writing about paint and charcoal as of late.”

you almost shoot upright from your bed.

“you’ve been reading my writing?”

“well, if they weren’t to be read, why do you leave them spread out on the table?”

“because there is no other place to store them!”

“and how good that is, or else i wouldn’t be able to read your fantastical stories or have been able to discover who your beloved is.”

“you are impossible!”

they kneel next to your bed and place their head on your shoulder.

“i love you too.”

you exhale the last of your frustrations, adjusting yourself a bit so that your sibling can rest their head more comfortably.  without realizing, you stroke their hair, just as you always have.

“i quite like the story about the mushroom family,” they state after some time. “i’m happy that the middle mushroom child befriends the peony and then the hyacinths.  i am happy they are happy.”

you feel your eyes start to drift.

“his name is benedict, by the way.”

you hear your sibling’s need for sleep in their reply.

“that’s a lovely name.”

“he is,” you murmur as the peace of the night falls over you.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.vi ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“good day!— robert?”

“good day, y/n!” and robert holds the door of bridgerton house open for you to pass.

“pardon the confusion in my greetings—”

“no offense taken on my part!” the late adolescence beams.  you grin back.  with how utterly enthusiastic robert is all the time, one would think it is part of some ruse.  but it is not; he is just that genuinely delighted by life, you’ve observed.

“i am grateful.  i had expected to be greeted by giles, is all.”

robert frowns.  you feel the corners of your mouth tug downward in response, concern starting to swell your heart.

“he is ill at the moment.”

“ill!  with what?”

“i know not.  i had admitted the doctor perhaps not even a quarter of an hour ago.  but worry not too much, y/n!  from what the viscountess has shared with the servants earlier this day, giles shall make a quick recovery.  and lady bridgerton has yet to be wrong in anything!”

relief floods your body.  giles is of elderly age, so it calms you to hear that his ailment seems not to be too severe.  and you can’t help but smile not only by robert’s sunny temperament but also by his rightful faith in kathani.

“that is all good to hear.”

“shall i announce you to the drawing room?”

“oh god no.  i am quite all right, but thank you.”

“understood!  then i must pardon myself; i must retrieve miss bridgerton and miss featherington.”

“‘retrieve’?  are they not in the drawing room?”

“i was informed by dowager lady bridgerton, who was accompanied by miss bridgerton and miss featherington themselves at the time, that they would be in the gardens until your arrival and to retrieve the young misses upon your arrival.”

“i see.  well, i shall be in the drawing room then.  thank you again, robert.”

“it is my pleasure, y/n!” he beams once more and takes off to complete his task.

how odd, you think to yourself.  this day seems rather unusual to the ones you’ve had thus far at bridgerton home.  and it is hardly even noon!  you become lost in your thoughts as you approach the entrance to the drawing room—

when you are greeted by benedict, and benedict alone, lounging with his legs thrown over the arm of a chair, staring sternly at the page he draws on.

“oh,” is all you say.

benedict snaps his focus from his book to you, his countenance transforming from deep concentration to frustration to genuine surprise in a mere moment.  he scrambles up from his seat, book in one hand and charcoal in the other, posture now proper, and he bows his head.  

“miss y/l/n.”

never before have you been alone in a room with a man.  a gentleman.  a gentleman with a handsome face, charcoal-stained hands, and beautiful ocean eyes.

you roll your eyes.

“blimey, it is just me.  there is no need to bow.  and why are you calling me miss y/l/n?”

benedict smiles.

“all right.  y/n.”

shit.

perhaps that was a mistake.

“where has your family gone?” you inquire as you go to sit in the chair parallel to his, ignoring the flutterings within your stomach.  “it is uncommon to enter the drawing room of bridgerton house and not be greeted by talking, or music playing, or fighting.”

smiling, benedict falls back into his seat and resumes his drawing.

“hyacinth is with her reading tutor; gregory is with his fencing instructor; colin is eating some sort of pastry, i am certain, in town; anthony and kate are likely— preoccupied—”

you snort; benedict’s smile grows broader as he smudges charcoal with his thumb, a small furrow in his eyebrows now forming.

“and mother has managed to rope eloise into learning about the flowers of the gardens, and eloise, being eloise, has roped penelope into doing the same.”

“and what of you?”

“and what of me?”

“why have you chosen the drawing room as your whereabouts?”

benedict cocks his head towards his drawing.

“it’s in the name of the room, is it not?”

“ah, a man of wit, i see.”

“i am a man of many attributes, y/n.”

ignore the butterflies.

“such as?”

“what attributes would win your favor?”

“so that you may lie to me and say you possess them?”

“of course not; the list is merely too long and i shan’t bore you with a soliloquy.”

“so, a man of thoughtfulness.”

“oh yes, a myriad of thoughts.”  

“name one.”

“how much i am enjoying our conversation.”

and benedict shifts his ocean eyes from his drawing to you, a smile on his lips.  he is being playful, but you detect no deceit in his expression.  it infuriates you, really.  how charming he is.  how endearing.  how sincere.  

you return his smile.

“as am i, benedict.”

you sit in comfortable silence a moment more until benedict breaks the gaze, returning his oceans eyes and smile back to his drawing.  his smile, however, does not last for very long.

“this sketch, on the contrary—”

and he rips out the paper from his book, crumples it in his hand, and throws it onto the carpet of the floor, giving his deed not another moment’s notice.  he puts his charcoal to a new page in the moment next.

your smile falls.

“do you know how much paper costs?” you demand.

benedict looks back up at you with scrunched eyebrows and a smile having returned to his lips.  he tilts his head.

“why?  should i?”  he inquires.  nonchalantly.  delight in his ocean eyes.

as if you are making a jest.

as if this is amusing.  as if this is nothing.

it reminds you of a recent memory.

eloise had generously given you sheets of paper.  hitting a stride in your writing and wanting to continue, you had asked, after much internal deliberation, if you could have a ripped half of a quarto upon running out of all negative space on your current one.

“have a foolscap.  have a whole lot of them, actually,” she said easily, taking a good chunk of her stack and handing it off to you.

“eloise, are you certain?”

“of course.  it is just paper, after all.”

“right.  yes— of course.  thank you.”

eloise hummed affirmatively in response, returning to her passage, as you stared at the small stack of foolscap in your hand.  that amount of paper would have been eight months’ wage, perhaps even more.  

a gentle touch of a hand on yours brought you out of your clouding thoughts.  you looked over and saw penelope looking at you softly.  understanding her unspoken thoughts, you held her hand and gave it a squeeze.

thank you, you mouthed.

"i must be going,” you say aloud.  “goodbye, mr. bridgerton.”

you stand, turn, and quickly exit the drawing room. 

“y/n.  y/n!”

you hear him scuffling up from his lounge and start to follow you.  you hasten your steps towards the entrance.  

moments before you can open the doors of bridgerton house to the respite of the outside world, you feel benedict take hold of your wrist, stopping you in your steps, and it infuriates you how gently he does it.  how you can pull away from his touch if you want to, how you can just go if you choose to.  but you do not.

it infuriates you how much you want him to hold you.

you turn to face him.

“please— wait,” he breathes.  “what did i do wrong?  what have i done to upset you?”

you look at him incredulously.  then it dawns on you.

“please.  tell me,” benedict practically begs.  with such softness in his voice.

it infuriates you.

“i know money is of no concern to you, or your family, or fair ladies and pretty gentlemen.  but it is for the rest of us.  for the rest of us who have to work to keep the ones we love fed, clothed, warmed, sheltered.  that is a fact with which i have been concerned since the very moment i could think for myself.  and for you—of the male sex, of pale skin, of inherited riches—it is something to discard onto the carpet of one of your family’s many houses.  the paper you threw to the ground would have paid for a month’s worth of warmth for the entirety of my family’s home.  and you ask me what you have done to upset me?”

he says nothing.  he just looks at you, damned ocean eyes and all.  gentle.  attentive.  like he could care; like he does care.

you feel your nostrils flaring, your blood pounding in every vein of your body.  you finally rip your wrist away from his loose hold, already missing his touch.

“i shall take my leave.  please give my regards as well as my apologies to eloise and penelope.  goodbye, benedict.”

you turn away from him, yank the door open by its handle, and step outside, walking composedly at first, then quickly, then sprinting, then running.  to be as far away from number five of grosvenor square as you possibly can be.  to be far away from crumpled up paper, charcoal-stained hands, gentle touches, and ocean eyes.  

you rub your wrists against your eyes.

stupid bloody tears.

stupid fucking heart.

why am i so afflicted by this?  why am i crying?  why do i hurt?

because i love—

no.

you cannot fall for him.  he is someone you cannot have, cannot want, cannot— cannot…

it cannot happen, the two of you.

and most likely of all, you are not someone he wants.  not someone who he would love.  not the way you—

you are a fool for getting this far.  but these feelings, they will pass.  somehow.   you will forget them.  you will forget him.  this is not the fairytales you read, not the fairytales you write.  daydreams, hopes, love for a gentleman— there is a reason you are a writer.

you write the things you can never have, the things that will never happen.

you and benedict will never happen.

this is the prayer you tell yourself that evening before sleep takes you.  you pretend not to be affected by the tears that afflict you as you do so.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.vii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< y/n does not go to number five the next week on her non-work day as she had grown accustomed to.  she had tried to write at her table in her home to preoccupy herself, but her teardrops were ruining what she had already written.  she considers going to work to distract herself, but y/n knows her unexpected presence would be a detriment to her fellow workers’ established flow of day.  she decides to go to the markets to try and get fresh air and a change of scenery and to do anything to interrupt her spiral of thoughts and emotions.

< while at the markets, y/n hears her name called and turns to see penelope in her blue cloak.  y/n asks what penelope is doing here, and penelope gently replies that she can ask y/n the same thing.  she shares with y/n how, the week prior, after she received news that y/n had left bridgerton house, she left to find y/n in the markets and at her workplace but to no avail.  

< their conversation continues.  penelope shares how y/n was missed last week; by her, by the family, by benedict.  y/n tries to dismiss her words and how the past few months have been a mistake and that she shouldn’t be there with pen or the bridgertons, that she’s not meant to be in their world.

< with patience and empathy and grace, penelope gently encourages y/n to return to bridgerton house next week, and y/n, though her heart aching and reluctant, agrees because she misses them. >

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.viii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

you sigh deeply.

have courage, y/n.

and you rap your knuckles twice against the stately door of number five.  a moment later, the door opens, and you are greeted by a beloved grin.

“miss y/n!  i have not seen you in weeks!”

you cannot help but smile back.

“good day, giles.”

“oh, where are my manners!” and the elderly doorman bows at you.  you huff out a laugh, feeling how your face contorts with distaste. 

“blimey, please don’t.  i am not a lady, giles.”

“you could’ve fooled me, miss y/n.”

you shoot him a severe look; he merely continues to grin.

“you know of my feelings towards being called ‘miss.’”

“i am getting older; my memory frequently fails me, miss y/n.”

“and yet you’ve recalled how we haven’t seen each other in two weeks.”

“three.”

you grin.

“precisely.”

“well, it was quite the surprise when I fell ill the following week!” then giles frowns.  “and it was an even greater surprise to have not seen you when i had returned the week following that.”

you look at the ground, unable to face the inquisition in his sad, kindly look, but when you bring your head back up, you manage a smile.

“it is no matter.  i am here now.  that is most important, yes?”

the elderly man smiles.

“yes, i suppose you are right, y/n,” and he holds the door open for you to pass.  

“aside from bouts with ailment, how have you been, giles?”

“still standing upright, still opening and closing doors,” he beams without a bit of sarcasm.  “and what of you?  how have you been?”

“i’ve been—— well.  and the family?” you say quickly, wanting to move the conversation away from you and your feelings.

“the same as is to be expected.  though—” 

concern starts to swell in your heart.  what has happened in the fortnight you have not been present?

“mister benedict has been absolutely despondent.”

“oh,” is all you say.  giles’ gentle joviality transforms into solemnity, and it makes your heart ache even further.

“on the rare occasions i do see him now, he is leaving for the gentleman’s club in the bright light of day and coming home at an ungodly hour, drunk as a wheelbarrow, wreaking of what smells like every available spirit in london.  he had stopped dipping rather deep sometime ago, much to my relief, so it was an utter shock to return to my station and to see him back on the cut, and deeply at that,” the elderly man sighs.  “i wonder what has happened for him to be so…” he unexpectedly turns to you, his countenance sanguine, “do you happen to know?”

you swallow as you ignore the sensation pooling in the pit of your stomach.

“no, i— i do not.”

“i see.  well, whatever it might be, it is clear how much it deeply afflicts him,” and giles offers you a small, sad smile.  “you know mister benedict; he has always been the most sensitive of the family.”

i do.  

i do know benedict.

you clear your throat.

“do you happen to know where eloise and penelope are at this moment?”

giles cocks his head at you but is kind enough (you thank the heavens) not to press your change of topic.

“the last i had seen them, they had spoken of viewing the art gallery.  do you know the way?”

“i am unfamiliar.”

he smiles again, and it makes you smile in return.

“then i am most glad to escort you there.”

–

giles opens the doors to the gallery, and ahead, in front of a portrait, you see the turnings of penelope, eloise, and—

“y/n,” he utters.

“benedict,” you breathe.

and he looks just as surprised as you are.  

you look to giles, his eyes wide and mouth agape, and then to eloise and penelope.  upon seeing their expressions, you feel your eyes narrow.

“ah, penelope!” shouts eloise.  everyone else turns to stare at her.  “with y/n’s arrival, i must change out of my, my art gallery viewing dress!  and— and, into my... drawing room!  sitting— dress...”

eloise scrunches her entire face in displeasure, confused by her own poorly concocted excuse.  that does nothing to deter her, however, from clamping onto penelope’s wrist and barreling forward towards the doors of the gallery.

“come along, pen!” she calls out to the friend she is pulling right behind her.  as they pass you, eloise gives you a strange and strained smile bearing all teeth, and penelope offers apologetic eyes and an encouraging smile.

giles looks to you, to benedict, and to the two escaping ladies.  mouth still agape, all he manages is,

“i suppose— i shall see to that— miss bridgerton and miss featherington arrive to miss bridgerton’s bedchamber... safe—ly…?”

he mouths, i’m sorry!, at you before quickly bowing his head at benedict, fleeing the scene with remarkable speed for an elderly man who has recently recovered from illness, and leaving you at the entrance of the art gallery.

closing your eyes, you deeply inhale through your nostrils as you place your hand to the space between your eye and your temple.  on your exhale, you wipe your hand hard against the side of your face and open your eyes, whipping your head to look at the second eldest bridgerton brother.  it seems that he has been staring at you this entire time, stupid (stunning) ocean eyes and all.

“would you like to paint a picture?” you snark.  “you are the artist in the room, and it would certainly last longer.  or perhaps you have run out of paper?��

he does not respond, indecipherable expression unchanging, and it unnerves you how guilty you feel at goading him, at taunting him, and he merely takes it.  you sigh again and cross the gallery to where he stands.  resisting the urge to look at him again, as you feel his gaze still on you, you instead look at the painting ahead of you.

it is a portrait of a gentleman.  with dark chestnut hair and mutton chops.  he wears a blue jacket, a darker blue vest, a cream cravat, green breeches, and brown boots.  a watch on a ribbon hangs from his vest; it looks familiar.  he looks familiar.  a benevolent smile rests on his lips.

you look at the plaque at the bottom of the gilded frame.

edmund bridgerton, the 8th viscount bridgerton.

you look back up at the painting, captured by a particular feature.

“you have his eyes.”

“his are gray; mine are blue.”

you roll your eyes but smile despite yourself.  (you try to ignore the flutterings that bloom upon hearing his voice again.)

“yes, but that’s not what i was referring to.  they peer into you— not with scrutiny, nor judgment, but with kindness, curiosity, compassion.  an eagerness to learn about you.  pools of welcoming.  cool tones that radiate warmth.”

you cough, ripping your eyes away from the portrait to inspect the scuffs of your boots.  you feel embarrassment spread throughout your entire body as heat creeps up your neck.

“the painter is excellent at their craft.  it is as if i know him, your father.”

silence falls in the expansive gallery, the calm and kind eyes of viscount bridgerton looking down upon you and his second eldest.

“i’ve missed you.”

you snap your head up to look at benedict, your eyes making contact with his ocean ones.  welcoming and warm.  honest and... hopeful?

i’ve missed you, too.

“benedict, it has only been a fortnight since we saw each other last,” you respond aloud, your voice coming out so much softer than you had intended.  you offer him a small smile, an olive branch of sorts.  something of relief starts to fill his ocean eyes, but his demeanor does not change.

“i behaved arrogantly, and you did not deserve to be the recipient of such behavior.  no one does, and i am so— i am so sorry, y/n.”

and you know he is.  you resist the urge to touch his cheek, to comfort him with your caress, to selfishly have your skin touch his.  instead, you look on at him.

“i do not ask you to grant me your forgiveness; i know i am unworthy of it.  i just— i just wanted you to know how i felt, and feel still.  and how i shall work on myself to be better, to do better.”

the butterflies in your stomach flutter maddeningly.  you emit an exhale from your nostrils.  the urge to touch him intensifies, and you feel yourself flex your hand to let go of the sensation.  you huff out another breath, and smile brightly, sincerely, at benedict.

“well,” you begin, “with our friendship renewed, care to show me what other paintings you love in this gallery?”

benedict’s ocean eyes beam with relief and joy, a brilliant smile lighting up his face, and it takes all your self-control not to drop all discretion and wrap your arms around him in a crushing embrace.

“i would love nothing more, y/n,” he declares.

you try not to flutter your eyes closed at the words ‘i,’ ‘love,’ and your name in the same breath from benedict’s lips.  at the pleasantness and home you feel in them.  you smile on.

“where shall we begin, then?”

you and benedict walk together as he approaches a miniature in a wooden frame ornately carved with floral motifs.  he admits that he has not the slightest clue which bridgerton ancestor this is, and that makes you snort.  grinning, he points out how adeptly the artist portrayed the translucency and fluidity of the lady’s veil and how particularly impressive it must have been to accomplish such effects in paints during the early 1600s, if the remnant dating of the artist’s signature is correct.  you remark how particularly impressive it is that a painting has endured two hundred years of existence, details still intact, and benedict responds simply that rich people have a way.  that makes you snort again, and that makes benedict grin again.

he then leads you to a portrait of kathani and anthony, the viscountess sat in a chair with the viscount stood behind.  you marvel at the painting—how much it looks like them, how much it captures kathani’s confidence, how much it captures anthony’s conviction, how much it captures their love.  excitement coloring his voice, benedict imparts to you how he was given the opportunity to observe and assist the painter on the days the latter was commissioned to portray the viscountess and the viscount.  he also shares with you how impossibly difficult they were as models, always giggling and kissing and looking away from the painter and talking to one another, being overall sickeningly saccharine.  you chortle and share with him how that does not surprise you in the least bit.  despite his annoyance upon recalling the memory, an incredibly fond smile rests on benedict’s lips.  turning from his lips back to the painting, you remark how in love they are, and he remarks that, indeed, they very much are—and turns his fond smile from the painting to you.

coughing, you walk over and ask about the landscape of an enormous building.  benedict names it as aubrey hall, the ancestral home of the bridgertons.  you recall how you had heard of it early on in your friendship with the bridgertons; you had been unable to see them one week as they were preparing for kathani’s first ball as viscountess at the home.  you also recall how the usually collected and confident kathani was anxious and uncertain during that time.  benedict, beaming with pride, says how, of course, she absolutely excelled and how all of the ton—he rolls his eyes then and you guffaw—enjoyed themselves at the event.  while kathani had done an unsurprisingly resplendent job, the ball was not very entertaining to benedict.  he much more enjoyed the annual bridgerton game of pall mall leading up to the event.  after announcing how kathani had won—much to the contradictory disappointment and delight of her husband—and answering your questions about what sounds, to you, like a very silly, very fun game, benedict suggests that you join them next year.  you laugh, finding it impossible to imagine yourself at a home such as aubrey hall, particularly for the entirety of three days, but your heart swells at the invitation and the sincerity in his voice, and you say aloud how you would love nothing more.

your spontaneous tour eventually comes to an end, and the two of you make your way towards the entrance, still discussing the various art you had seen.  as you and benedict walk out of the gallery, a thought crosses your mind.

“none of your work is on display.”

you notice how benedict stiffens.  you feel your smile tug into a frown.

“ah, yes.  i do not think my work is— up to snuff— with the work on display here.”

“horse shit.”

benedict’s jaw drops, his face aghast and regaled in reaction to what you assume is your choice of language.  you merely shrug.

“you have not even seen my work!”

“i do not need to see your work when i can already see how harsh you are being.”

he scoffs, and it aggravates you.

“fine— i will show you, then, and prove to you my point.”

“fine, then!  show me, and i will prove to you my point!”

–

“you are full of horse shit!”

you and benedict are in his bedchamber, where all his works are hidden away.  he has shown you canvas after canvas, sketch after sketch, charcoal drawing after charcoal drawing, his palette of color ideas— and he still has the audacity to say that his work is not “up to snuff” for the bridgerton gallery.

benedict looks aghast again, perhaps by your language, perhaps by what you are (very rightly, very correctly) insisting.  he shakes the canvas that he holds in his hand in your face.

“look at the proportions, y/n!  they are entirely off!”

you roll your eyes, swatting his arm away, and begin to rummage through his other work.  you pull a sheet and hold it up to benedict’s face.

“look at this sketch, then look at the canvas.  there is a very clear, marked improvement, and with only a—” you look at the dates at the bottom right corners for confirmation, “—a difference of two days!”

“what does ‘improvement’ mean if the improvement is not even good!”

“it is good!  and!  improvement is everything, benedict!  it is progress!”

“what—”

you and benedict jump back from one another by the sudden new voice.  you had not realized how close the two of you were as you were shouting at one another, how close your faces were to one another, how close your lips were to—

a blazing heat creeps up your neck, at the tip of your ears, and across your cheeks as you turn from benedict’s flustered face to the scowl of the eldest bridgerton sibling in the doorway.

“—are the two of you doing?”

“brother!  i— i was merely showing y/n my work.”

you vigorously nod your head.  anthony’s glare remains unaffected.

“alone?  together?  in your bedchamber?”

your heart almost leaps out of your chest, your eyes about to bulge out of their sockets as you look around the room, suddenly aware of where you are.  you are in benedict’s bedchamber.  alone.  together.

“i—” you start, very pathetically.  “i——  we—”

anthony curtly bows his head at you.

“y/n, i would like to have a word with my brother.  in private.  please.”

“of— of course, right— of course!”

you hastily put the sketch on a nearby table and walk towards the door, pass anthony as he steps in, and are about to run down the hall and away from the scene when—

you turn and steal a glance at benedict, mustering up all the apologies you can convey through your eyes.  despite the peril of his current predicament, his ocean eyes soften immediately, and a thousand butterflies erupt in your stomach and flutter around viciously.  he offers you a slight smile, one that is sincere and unregretful.  you offer one back, just as sincere, just as unregretful, before anthony gives you another bow of his head and closes the door.

–

“are you pleased by the results of your consorted trickery?” you state blandly upon seeing the young ladies that you thought were your friends sitting in the drawing room.

eloise looks up from her pamphlet, beaming at you, as penelope wears a wide and proud smile.  well, at least they have answered your question.

“trickery?” eloise feigns.  you roll your eyes; their expressions answer honestly, but their words continue their game.  “i have no idea what you are referring to.  pen and i were merely keen on viewing the art gallery today, and i thought, my blue-deviled of an elder brother ought to stop moping about; what better to get him to leave his bedchamber than by way of his favorite topic?”

“and his other favorite topic,” penelope adds.  eloise chortles, and you feel the tips of your ears heat.

“what is that supposed to mean!”

eloise waves a dismissive hand at you.

“benedict knew nothing of your arrival, as i am sure you deduced by his surprise,” but the second eldest daughter grins wickedly.  “though, from the sheer amount of time you have spent together thus far today, i am also sure the surprise was very welcomed, indeed.”

“by both parties, it seems.”

you promptly ignore the flush you feel on the apples of your cheeks.  your friends are lucifer incarnate split into two.

“well, then you must be delighted to know that your shared plot has led to punitive action against him.”

that surprises them.  (good.  you are relieved to finally have some sort of an upperhand in this conversation.)

“‘punitive action’?  by whom?  for what?”

“by—”

the three of you hear a set of footsteps.  you look to where the sounds are heard and see the two eldest bridgerton siblings enter the drawing room, the elder approaching you with conviction and the younger trailing behind him like a pet that has just been reprimanded.  the sight would make you laugh, if you weren’t the one to have instigated the current conflict between the two brothers.

anthony stands before you, posture perfect and chin held up high.

“y/n, thank you for your patience.  please allow me to apologize most ardently on behalf of my brother for his complete and utter lack of propriety.  it will not happen again as i shall be more vigilant in tracking his every deed.  i do hope this incident of my brother’s disrespect does not taint the beloved friendship between you and our family.” 

and he deeply bows his head at you.

your jaw drops.  benedict shuts his eyes tight and scrunches his face.  penelope bops her gaze amongst the three of you.  and eloise just howls, causing anthony to break the gravitas of his decorum and shoot a glare at her.

“it is no laughing matter, eloise!”

“it is harmless fun, brother!  a pursuit of intellect exchanged between two creatives, who also happened to be by themselves.  i have never heard of a baby being conceived from sharing some art.”

“ELOISE BRIDGERTON!”

you have now entirely hidden your face behind your hands; no one needs to witness the deep crimson that you are certain is spreading very rapidly across your countenance.  an absurd hope also blooms in you that if you cannot see the others, then the others cannot see you.

“what ever is the matter in here?” 

your eyes shoot open upon hearing the much needed voice of reason.  removing your hands from your face, you see kathani enter the drawing room, a confused expression worn on her face.  

“my dearest,” anthony begins, “i have offered my deepest apologies to y/n for benedict’s disgrace.”

“disgrace,” scoffs eloise, crossing her arms.

“disgrace!” reiterates anthony with increased fervor.  kathani’s confusion does not lighten.  she looks to benedict, whose eyes are scrunched closed again (his nose looks adorable this way), and then to you.

“are you all right, y/n?” she inquires gently.

“i—” you had intended to say, am well, but that would be a lie.  you are utterly mortified.  so, instead, you state the truth.

“benedict has been a gentleman.  he has treated me with the utmost respect, and when he has done wrong by me— which!  which has nothing to do with our being in his bedchamber!—  he—” you steady your voice, determined to say this right, as you know and feel it with and in your heart, “he has corrected himself and bettered his words and thoughts and deeds.”

“you hear that, brother?  no harm has been done.”

“eloise, you were not even there!”

“i believe what eloise means, anbe, is that you are being dramatic.”

“dramat— they were in his bedchamber, kathani!  together!  alone!”

kathani rolls her eyes, her attempt at diplomacy entirely gone.

“speak louder, anthony; just a bit more and the entire country shall hear you.”

the viscount pouts grumpily at his beloved, emitting a huff of air through his nostrils.  

“you must trust y/n by her word,” the viscountess states.

“or do you not trust someone of feminine disposition to speak for herself?” eloise inquires.

“pen!” 

you all snap your gazes to the entrance of the drawing room and see colin making his way to your friend in blue, followed by—

“y/n!” shouts gregory and hyacinth as they run towards you.

“y/n, penelope!” remarks violet and approaches you both.  “how delightful it is to see you!  you—” she says, reaching out for your hand, gently taking it in hers, and smiling kindly at you, “—in particular.  it has been a moment, y/n.” 

it melts your heart, really.  the sincerity of affection that flows so easily from violet bridgerton.  you recall the kind eyes and benevolent smile of her late husband.  it is no wonder you so easily fell in love with this family; true, real love is woven into the very fabrics of each of their beings.

you look at them.  hyacinth and gregory cling onto your slides, holding you tight.  kathani and anthony are engrossed in debate, affection in their eyes despite the heat in their words.  colin and penelope speak with and blush around one another as eloise, unknowingly (and, in your opinion, frustratingly, endearingly), butts into their conversation.  and benedict.  who, with the gaze of the entire room no longer on his so-called indiscretion, is looking at you.  softly.  with those damned, wondrous, bewitching ocean eyes.  a smile on his lips that makes the flutterings in your stomach unbearingly, wonderfully unyielding.

you truly, really love this family.  

you love the bridgertons.

“though,” the dowager viscountess starts.  

shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you see how violet looks at the others in the room as half of them now pointedly avoid eye contact with the matriarch and the other half share a similar sentiment to her.

“is everything all right?” she turns to you, peering curiously into your eyes.  “has something happened?”

you cannot help the laugh that bubbles out of you.  violet seems taken aback by your reaction, as are the others in your periphery, but her eyes, as well as theirs, shine on.

“i think,” you say, smiling, “it is just another day with the bridgertons.”

#bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton angst #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #penelope featherington #kate sharma #anthony bridgerton #colin bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #gregory bridgerton #hyacinth bridgerton #violet bridgerton

[sanjisboyfie]

one piece smau: married to robin edition

— kinda implied that robin is some "celebrity" but i kind of just enviosioned her just being a really successful writer or smth LOL

— male reader ! ! !

liked by nico.robin, nrs.husband, and 12k others

uso_pp: bro is definitely a mama's boy

tagged: nico.robin and nrs.husband

nrs.husband: well i call her mommy in bed anyway so it checks out

-> uso_pp: DEAR GOD.

dni_nami: they're both so whipped for each other, true love is real igggg

[liked by nico.robin, nrs.husband, and 90 others]

freeluffy: is it normal to be this clingy with your girlfriend...[name]'s behavior seems concerning guys ://

-> roro.zoro: it kills me how serious u seem about this

princesanji: IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN MEEEE

liked by nrs.husband, dni_nami, and 30k others

nico.robin: my husband is so thoughtful - he's never forgotten to give me floewrs whenver my older ones die <3

tagged: nrs.husband

nrs.husband: if my baby loves flowers IMMA GET HER FLOWERS

-> nico.robin: and i'll treasure them each time my love

princesanji: robin, i too, remember that you love flowers - do you love me now :3?

SUPERCOLA: i thought im the ways of being a SUPPPERRR husband well

-> nrs.husband: SUPPPPEERRRR

dni_nami: were these from your garden?

-> nico.robin: yes :) he has been tending to them ever since he planted them for me so now that they're grown, he made them into a bouqet

[liked nrs.husband, roro.zoro, and 100 others]

-> dni_nami: UGH I DONT KNOW WHY I BOTHER ASKING it's too cute i might kill MYSELF

liked by nico.robin, princesanji, and 20k others

nrs.husband: before and after the event, so proud of my beautiful girl

tagged: nico.robin

nico.robin: your support means the world to me <3 i love you so much

-> nrs.husband: if you have 1000 fans, i'm one of them. if you have 100 fans, i'm one of them. if you have 10 fans, i'm one of them. if there are no more fans of nico robin in the world, then i'm dead. i love you so sososososo much more my love

uso_pp: someone check up on sanji-

-> roro.zoro: i just heard a thump from the room over, i'm gonna assume he just fell to his knees

skullnsoul: such an elegant couple - YOUNG LOVE IS SO BEAUTIFUL

-> nrs.husband: brook you're like ten years older pls ur not an old man yet LMFAO

-> nico.robin: thank you brook :)

liked by nrs.husband, dni_nami, and 20k others

nico.robin: my favorite place in the world is his arms

tagged: nrs.husband

nrs.husband: i'll start crying right now.

nrs.husband: I DONT DESERVE YOU UGH

uso_pp: photo creds robin?? cmon now my work aint free

princesanji: what did [name] do in a past life to deserve a goddess such as yourself, robin-chan?

-> nico.robin: sanji you need to move on <3

[liked by roro.zoro, dni_nami, and 400 others]

freeluffy: mama y papa :DDDD

-> nrs.husband: LUFFY LMFAOOAA

liked by uso_pp, nrs.husband, nico.robin, and 11k others

dni_nami: the one time we get to see robin and he's hogging all her attention....wtf

tagged: nico.robin and nrs.husband

nico.robin: dw nami i reserved us a girls day at the nearby resort <3

-> dni_nami: mommy? sorry, mommy? mommy? sorry...mommy??

-> nrs.husband: hello????

uso_pp: as if he doesn't get to spend eveyr waking second with her like cmon bruh

-> nrs.husband: my BADD for loving my wife jfc i cant win w u guys

nrs.husband: omg send me this photo she looks so cute here hehehe

-> dni_nami: stfu.

nrs.husband's story:

i love lovelovelovelove my beautiful wife. everyone is just jealous she's mine <333

nico.robin replied to your story: i wondered why nami just texted me she hated you — you're very cute with this story, [name]. i love you too and am glad that i can call you mine as well <333

#≡;- ꒰ ° smau series ꒱ #one piece smau #one piece modern au #one piece x male reader #nico robin x male reader #nico robin x reader #x male reader #x reader #nico robin imagines #one piece imagines #male reader imagines #one piece male reader #robin x male reader #robin x reader #one piece robin x reader #one piece robin x male reader

[milktei]

Woah I'm new here in Tumblr but I'm glad I came across your blog! Not sure if you're accepting requests but thoughts on Angst/Comfort where trust issues comes after Atsumu (or Kageyama 🙇‍♂️) does something that upsets their s/o??

Man of Many Words

Miya Atsumu x gn!Reader

Genre: Angst with some fluff at the end

Warnings: none(?)

Requests: Closed for now :|

not edited

a/n: First of all i’m so sorry this took so long anon but I hope that this somewhat fulfills your request ;-;. Writers block is crazy I was pumping out one shots so easily and then bam I hate everything I write. The ending of this one in particular was difficult for me but i hope it suffices :’). anyways requests are still closed for now but i’m hoping to write something that will help the creative juices flow again

It is well known among Atsumu’s friends and family that he tends to talk. A lot.

It was something you found endearing about him when you first started dating. Whenever you were with Atsumu, awkward silences were few and far between. There was always something he could talk about it.

For the most part you were happy to listen and talk about whatever it was he rambled about that day. His limitless passion was part of why you fell in love with him.

Still, the habit of his had some drawbacks.

“Oh, congratulations by the way!”

You turn your gaze away from the restaurant window and look at your friend in confusion.

“Congratulations on what?”

It was your friend’s turn to look confused, “On the big promotion silly!”

There was a pause as you took in their words. “How do you even know about that?” You spluttered. “I just got the news a couple days ago. I was planning a big announcement and everything.”

“Oh I ran into Atsumu at the grocery store yesterday and he told me!” their gaze softened when they saw the defeated look on your face. “I’m sorry I thought he would’ve told you”

You waved your hands in front of you, “no no it’s not your fault… I’m not very surprised at this point. I was just hoping to wait for all the paperwork to go through before telling anyone.”

“Well if it’s any comfort I’m proud of you y/n.”

The smile you gave them was bittersweet, “thanks.”

———

Needless to say, you were a bit peeved when you got home that day, though your boyfriend didn’t seem to notice.

“Hi babe! how was lunch?” He called from where he sat on the couch.

You stared blankly at the back at his head for a moment, “fine.”

“That’s great! I was thinkin’ for dinner we could order out ya know? This commercial came on and-“

“Why did you tell f/n about the promotion?”

He paused and finally turned to look at you. Taking in your frustrated state, still, he shrugged, “it seemed like a good time.”

You let your bag fall to the ground before fully stepping into the living room “Atsumu I told you that I wanted to wait, it would have only taken another week.”

Now standing up from the couch, the confusion that was evident on Atsumu’s face only served to fuel your anger.

“But this is such exciting news y/n! There’s no time like the present!”

“Atsumu that’s not for you to decide! That was my news to tell!”

“Like you said, you were gonna tell them eventually!” He raised his hands up in surrender, “I’m sorry but you know that this is just how I am! I was just so excited for you I couldn’t help myself.”

You left that fight defeated that night, unable to think of any comeback, because yes, you did know Atsumu. You knew how your life was never your own being with him. You knew the extent of just how stubborn he was and how ignorant he could be to the world around him. Trying to wrap his mind around something could feel like pulling teeth sometimes.

After managing to get through a tense dinner, life went on. You did end up celebrating with your closest friends and family and soon after you began to take on your new responsibilities.

Unfortunately, Atsumu continued to act as if he hadn’t completely crossed a boundary you had set. He continued to talk about your lives with his friends it seemed that you couldn’t go a full week without somebody asking you about something you never told them about.

The pure helplessness you felt that day remained lingering within you as you carried on with work. You found yourself almost dreading going home, and contemplating not telling him anything.

But how could you when everyday without fail he would grace you with that smile, oozing with love and fondness before sweetly asking you, “So how was your day?”

You were in a bit of a mess with yourself, trying to figure out how to get your concerns through his thick skull. The new role you had taken on further adding to the stress you had been feeling. While you loved your job You were both physically and mentally exhausted.

It was only a matter of time before everything became too much.

To the horror of you colleagues, you had ended up fainting at work. You had finally succumbed to everything in your life that had been piling on top of you.

Luckily, it wasn’t long before you regained consciousness, surrounded by your colleagues you sat up and slowly and rubbed the back of your head sheepishly.

At that moment some paramedics had rounded the corner and while you insisted you were completely fine, you allowed them to check you for injuries and give you some fluids, it wasn’t until they were sure you were stable and didn’t need any further help that they left.

As embarrassing as the entire situation was, you were glad that your boss let you have the rest of the day off, it was near the end of your shift anyways. So you grabbed your bag and left, still mortified at what had just transpired.

As you rode the train home, the events leading up to you losing consciousness replayed in your mind, you thought about everything that had led up to that point. How your coworkers reacted. As you sat in the quiet train, your mind still struggled to process what had happened.

Even with your spiralling mind, everything led to one conclusion.

You couldn’t tell Atsumu about what happened, at least not today.

Because you knew him. You knew exactly what would happen.

It would start with the texts from worried friends, calls from both of your families, and end with people mentioning off handedly, “I heard you fainted the other day. How are you feeling?” and you would be left to do damage control as your boyfriend continued to live his carefree life.

You could tell Atsumu “don’t tell anyone this” but you knew better. You knew better than to trust him and his big mouth. How could you have any other option when he’s never proven that he could listen?

So you would stay quiet. Long enough for you to recover from your lingering headache, long enough for you to process everything that had happened and figure out how to prevent it from happening again.

Long enough to be able to finally relax without worrying who you were going to get a text or call from.

Even with your mind made, the universe seemed to laugh down at you, and make life much more difficult for you than it needed to be.

You nearly cursed out loud when you saw his car in the driveway. He was home early too.

You sighed as you slowly unlocked your front door. The sounds of the TV growing louder as you stepped in.

Atsumu turned back and gave you a look of confusion as you took off your shoes. “Hey babe, wasn’t expecting you ‘til later.”

You smiled at him “I could say the same for you.” you slid your feet into your house slippers “I got a lot of work done today and my boss let me go home early, why are you home?”

Atsumu shrugged “Practically the same as you. Been makin’ a lot of progress at practice lately.”

You walked in front of where he sat and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. even with how your relationship had been going, at least this was something you hadn’t lost.

Atsumu wrapped his arms around your waist and looked up at you, “did you eat yet?”

No. I was so busy at work that I kept postponing my break. You thought to yourself bitterly.

“Not yet, I decided that I might as well eat at home if I was leaving early.”

Atsumu hummed, “I haven’t either. We could order something and then watch some movies? Take advantage of our free time.”

You smiled down at him, a relaxed movie day with him was exactly what you needed. “I would like that a lot ‘Tsumu.”

You pulled slightly away and he whined, causing you to laugh softly.

“I’ll go take a shower and you can order whatever you want, ok?”

His pout grew back into the loving smile of his as he nodded, “Can I use your phone? You always have coupons.”

You nodded and he allowed you to fully pull away. Reaching into your bag you pulled out your phone and handed it to him before making your way to your shared bedroom.

It had been maybe 20 minutes of Atsumu scrolling through the various restaurants (he’s very indecisive when it comes to food) before a text from who he recognized as one of your coworkers popped up.

“Hey! Hope your feeling better. We managed to get everything done so there’s no need to worry for your next shift.

Also remember to seek medical attention if anything feels off. I know you were cleared but you hit your head pretty badly.”

He froze as he read the text over and over. He didn’t even realize how much time had passed until you came walking out of your bedroom with a relaxed smile on your face.

“Soo, you decide on a place yet?”

You were met with an extremely uncharacteristic silence, your brows furrowed as you looked at your boyfriend staring intently at your phone.

“Atsumu?”

The next thing you knew, Atsumu flipped the screen to you.

“y/n what is this? Medical attention? Did something happen?”

Your eyes skimmed the message and you froze.

“…O-oh there was a bit of an incident at work that happened before I left. No need to worry!” you tried to wave his hand away and mustered the calmest smile you could.

He looked unconvinced.

“y/n…”

You felt your resolve crumble where you stood. The accusatory look he gave you full of worry, and worse, anger.

You sighed shakily, “ever since the promotion I’ve been finding it hard to find time to really relax so…” you looked away, unable to look him in the eye due to your guilt. “I ended up fainting.”

Atsumu shot up from where he sat, “You passed out?!” his hands frantically grabbed at your shoulders, trying to get you to look at him “You should have told me right away! I could have picked you up! Who knows what would have happened if you fainted again on the subway. I can’t believe you lied, you were just going to keep this from me? Why? Why didn’t you tell me-“

You pushed yourself out of his grip, “Because I didn’t want to!” you huffed, tired of his tirade, “I admit that I was fully content with not telling you.”

His hands dropped from your shoulders and you almost broke at the sight of his crestfallen face “Why?”

You took a deep breath, “I was…scared that you were gonna tell someone.”

There was a moment of tense silence. “You…you could’ve just asked me to not-“

“Could I Atsumu? Could I really? I’m not sure if I believe that, especially after you told me that that’s just who you were and that it was unavoidable.” You paused as you realized you were raising your voice, you looked away in shame. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just that sometimes I wish that our business could be our own Atsumu, even for a little bit.”

You took his silence as a cue to keep explaining yourself.

“I needed time today to finally relax for once and process everything. I can’t do that if I have someone new calling me every five minutes to make sure that I’m okay. I want to be able to worry about my own wellbeing, without having to manage other people’s. I can’t do that if you tell everyone you know what’s happening in my life.”

Atsumu’s continued silence began to worry you. “Atsumu?”

Without warning you were pulled into the familiar strong arms that could only belong to your boyfriend.

“I’m sorry y/n.” he mumbled into your hair “I thought I was being supportive. I just love bragging about to to everyone and letting people know how we’re doing. I never really thought about how that would affect you. I’m sorry I made you stress out so much.”

You smiled into his chest and hugged him back “I’m happy that you understand ‘Tsumu. There’s nothing wrong with gushing about me, I just need you to understand my boundaries.”

You felt him nod “I’m sorry again I’ll do my best.”

You could already feel yourself relaxing again into his arms “that’s all I’m asking for Atsumu, thank you.”

You let out a sigh of relief as you held each other. It felt as if a massive weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

The tender moment was interrupted by the sound of a stomach growl. There was a stunned silence before the two of you burst into a fit of laughter.

Atsumu looked down at you with a gaze that filled you with an indescribable warmth, laughter still evident in his face. “How ‘bout we order and finally relax for the night? Just the two of us?”

You smiled fondly up at the man and nodded “Just the two of us.”

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu angst #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu angst #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x y/n #atsumu x you #haikyuu #haikyuu oneshot

[thelordofgifs]

20 questions for fic writers

Thank you @sallysavestheday and @grey-gazania! I was eyeing this one and hoping for a tag, some great questions here.

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 51, although one's a podfic.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 250,683. More than half of which is from last year alone!

3. What fandoms do you write for? Currently exclusively the Silmarillion, with the occasional little LoTR ficlet.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? the fairest stars, Inflection, an ancient song, all those that follow, Ilimbë. I'm always surprised by an ancient song's popularity – it was a pretty low-effort ficlet – but a solid list nonetheless!

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes, always! (Glances nervously at the pile I've accumulated in the last couple of weeks of travelling). I love replying to comments, though. It's so nice to be able to engage with all my lovely thoughtful readers and their excellent thoughts!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? ever an anguish that pursued is pretty bleak. before the black gale is also a tragedy of sorts, though I'm not sure that makes it qualify as angsty as such.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Ilimbë ends quite joyfully, although while writing the final scene I did have the shadow of their unhappy future in mind! I think the cleaving's ending is also quite happy, or at the very least cathartic.

8. Do you get hate on fics? No, thankfully! All my readers have been very kind and appreciative <3

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Three fics so far! All of which were gifts for friends, and made me push my boundaries a little. I'm proud of all of them, though! Smut is less scary than I used to think :)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? No, never! If I did, it would probably be more of a retelling/AU than straight-up having characters from different fandoms meet.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not to my knowledge!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No – I fear I am rather too much of a control freak for this, and would rather not inflict myself and my pedantry on an unsuspecting co-writer.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Russingon... it's the forbidden romance and the doomed nature of it all and the fact that love wasn't enough to save them :( also the murders, of course.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? boats against the current, the "Maedhros doesn't swear the Oath" AU I blithely started back in 2022, is simply not going anywhere at any sort of speed. Perhaps this is the year! Let's see.

16. What are your writing strengths? Dialogue and characterisation! I'm good at emotional beats, I think.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Description... I tend to write VERY minimally and then have to go back on edits and add in some descriptive language so that the entire story isn't just two talking heads in an empty room. Always very pleased when people compliment my descriptions for that reason – they take conscious effort!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Fine if it's footnoted, I think. I tend to avoid it on the basis that all the dialogue I write has been "translated" from one of Tolkien's languages anyway; and I don't know any real languages well enough to write fic in them.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Harry Potter, although I've soured on the fandom now for obvious reasons :/ For a while I used to think that I could still enjoy the books I loved so much growing up while separating them from the author, but she's so continually hateful and bigoted that I just... can't gain any enjoyment from the franchise anymore. Which is painful, but I'm glad I have the silm fandom to absorb all my creative energy now!

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? the fairest stars! My weird gremlin baby, I love it so. I never expected to care about this fic as much as I did, but I've poured so much thought and heart into it that it was perhaps inevitable. And it's taught me so much about writing cliffhangers :)

No-pressure tags for @eilinelsghost, @searchingforserendipity25, @welcomingdisaster, @that-angry-noldo, @swanmaids, @echo-bleu, @jouissants, @tanoraqui and anyone else who, like me, was eyeing this one hoping to be tagged – @ me and say I tagged you!

#tag game #my writing

[justplainwhump]

So I came up with the idea to talk about some BBU stories of the year 2023 for @bbu-on-the-side , and then was too sick to follow up on.

It's 2024 now, but anyway.

Here's my 2023 top favourites:

Single pieces (that work at standalones):

Safety (Bliss) by @caramelis (warning for nsfwhump though); perfectly executed built up, amazing pov choice, and f/f smut that left me speechless, my favourite piece of the entire year.

Routine (Xiu) by @pigeonwhumps ; hauntingly well written day in the life of a BBU pet, I'm not over it and never will be

"They don't care about you" (Matti) by @wildfaewhump ; grief and carelessly horrible people

Series

A Girl named Spider by @just-horrible-things got even more fun this year by her owner buying her former handler as a pet for her, and reading Cosmo Rayce getting whumped was just a pleasure in every second.

Old friends by @gottawhump added even another layer of complex, relatable characters to their rich world, and it hurt my heart but also felt very cathartic.

Overall

Of course there's also more amazing BBU writers that just keep on giving, whose writing I will always enjoy but am just too ill right now to find my 2023 fave by : @ashintheairlikesnow (I think there was a story of Kauri stuck in an elevator that haunted me for weeks but I didn't find it... *edit Ash did and it's here), @winedark-whump who sadly finished writing BBU stories last year, but many of them still live rent free in my head, @angst-after-dark who doesn't only write amazing BBU stuff but is also such an amazing enabler of everyone else, and @flowersarefreetherapy whose Cameron I fell in love with this year; and also the writers mentioned above have a lot more amazing series and stand alones and snippets, so yeah, check them all out, please!

My own BBU stuff

I started Pet Safety, and I am proud to think that Blanca is a beautiful piece that also works as a standalone.

I also got Tyler's story to the point all its readers had been waiting for (noncon, yes, that's what it is).

My favourite piece of myself in a very personal way, however, is No of Angel's recovery arc, because it has Angel and it has Tyler and I just love how far she has come.

#bbu #bbu community #whump community #fic recs

[max-nico]

Super_Charlie_001

Am I (32M) the asshole for declaring a hero of our village (16M) my new nemesis?

This all started around 4 years ago. I live in a small secluded village on the coast, I'm talking about less than 100 people living here. We all do our part to keep our little town running and at this stage in my life I had just become our Village Fruit Carrier (a very important job to have). The job wasn't the most fulfilling, but it got food on the table and it was how I met my wife, so I have a bit of a soft spot for it. Anyway, the 'hero of the village' (let's call him Red) and he got me FIRED from my job. why? Because he just couldn't stop himself from stealing my baskets, dumping out my fresh clean fruit all over the ground, using my baskets as stilts, and then disappearing right before my boss came out to check on me. In the kids defense, he's a little... Slow, so I really didn't hold it against him too much. Especially because after getting fired from that job I managed to land my absolute dream job around 6 months later. I really felt like it was fate or something. I was happy, my wife was happy, everything was good.

This brings us up to speed basically.

Recently, Red got me fired AGAIN years later from my wonderful job. I worked as an archeologist/excavator and made good money doing it, especially since our little town is built on top of ancient ruins and tech nobody's really seen before. Apparently Red wasn't trying to get me fired, he was genuinely trying to make up for making me lose my job the first time. At first he seemed a little dimwitted, but well meaning so I didn't have much of a problem letting him stick around, but I also didn't have much of a backbone at the time either.

Then things got worse, between him picking up important artifact markers, breaking multiple artifacts, breaking one of my toes, and even throwing my lunch away, I just couldn't handle it. One night, he even showed up at my house before I got home and made friends with my wife, and despite telling her I was uncomfortable she let him stay. So I'm sure you guys can tell, by this point I'm boiling with rage. This kid just cannot take a hint and I have had it up to here with him.

Then all hell breaks loose. He somehow manages to brush an artifact just right, causing a laser to fire and destroy an entire dig site filled to the brim with things we haven't even begun to study. Then he has the audacity to yell at my boss for yelling at me and gets me FIRED!!! AGAIN!!! THEN HE CALLS MY WIFE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION!!! AND SHE THROWS ME OUT!!!

At this point he can't just be dumb right? This has to be malicious. So I freak out at him, and do you know what he says? "Don't worry. I'll make it up to you, just as soon as I'm done making it up to you for the other thing I did." Wtf.

So I start to torment the guy. Can you really blame me? I go back to my old job and dig around for the old mech suits the ancients had lying around, like huge rocky things that shoot fire and laser and all types of things. I only use it to do things like steal his lunch money and knock him around at first, nothing super out there just protocol villain stuff.

So Red starts acting like I'M the crazy one after this. He acts like HE'S been the bigger person when he's the one who made me this way. He even made me a pie (which I shoved in his face of course), and I proclaimed myself a supervillain, and by proxy his nemesis. The whole village even gathered around to watch our fight, I felt like I was a cool kid in a school yard, and it was objectively the best feeling I've ever had.

Unfortunately I lost, not without a fight but still. Now the entire village is weird towards me (except my wife who took me back because she was proud of me for getting a new job and also a backbone) and they all act like I'm some lunatic just because I tried to destroy ONE GUY!!! so aita?

EDIT 1: Yes not even Dr.Eggman knows how this tech works I live like a couple miles away from the guy. Trust me I've asked

EDIT 2: Why does everyone know this guy and his friends? Are they famous or something?

EDIT 3: I found out that Sonic the Hedgehog, my nemesis, and their friends, are actually the heroes of Mobius and not just the heroes of my village. Small world I guess.

#sth #sonic the hedgehog #i have the mic #knuckles the echidna #sonic shitpost #unreality #sonic boom #sonic fandom #sonic fanfiction #sonic #this episode is ridiculously funny to me i hope you enjoy reading this lol #am i the asshole #aita #sonic social media #sonic posting #this is based off of Sonic Boom EP: Counter Productive #idk if this is niche but i think it's hilarious lol

[simlicious]

Am I a programmer?

I've spent the last weeks developing an actual little app using Python...

It all started with a Let's Play of Subnautica I saw on YouTube. Since Subnautica is one of my all-time favorite games, I got the itch to dive back in (pun intended). I play with tons of mods, so I had to check for a lot of updates and also juggle different versions since the last Subnautica update broke a lot of the older mods. So after some back and forth, I decided to remain on the older version for now. Great! But then I noticed that because of that back and forth and uninstalling mods, all my mods were reinitialized, and that meant trouble for one of my favorite mods, Autosort Lockers. The mod adds automatic resource sorting inside the game, which is super handy. But it was built to only work with the game's resources, not modded items. It does offer config files though. So when I last used the mod, I painstakingly edited the configs and added all modded items, which took hours. And now, I accidentally messed them up and was supposed to redo all of that. The thought filled me with dread. So I asked ChatGPT, which I have grown quite fond of recently, to help me. Why did I ask ChatGPT? Well, I need to go a bit further back in time to explain that.

One day, not too long ago, I asked ChatGPT to reformat a long list. ChatGPT said, "Apologies, I cannot process such a long list. Here's a Python script, here's how to install Python, copy the script, run it and it will do what you want." I thought ChatGPT was crazy, surely that would never work!? Nut I was curious and also a little desperate so I did install Python and ran the script and ... it did what I wanted. I was stunned. Could I use ChatGPT to write code for me? Apparently, the answer was yes. So I spent a lot of time directing it, add this, add that, and I noticed that it was not at all as easy as I thought. ChatGPT removed code when it felt like it, and the longer it got the more it messed up. But also the more time I spent copying/pasting Python code, the more I understood. Sometimes, I would just ask "What exactly does this bit do?", and ChatGPT patiently gave me answers. Running the Python code from the command prompt got tedious very quickly though. I asked: "Can't you make a button for me that I can click??" To my surprise, ChatGPT said: "Sure, let's make a gui." And that was it, the moment I fell in love with Python. So I made a few attempts at this and that, most only half-finished because the project got too ambitious for the little knowledge I had.

I heard about an AI especially made for writing code: Github's Copilot. I decided I had to try that. Since it only worked in real programmer's tools, I installed Visual Studio Code. Now I really felt like a programmer, using fancy tools! And Copilot made things easier, much easier. It did not delete all kinds of code like regular ChatGPT. It was even more helpful. I was super motivated and got to work on my "Autosort Lockers Filter Update Helper" since Python is very well suited for automating stuff. Because several config files were involved, and several values needed to be loaded, converted, compared, merged, loooked up, reformatted, and saved into multiple files, it was quite the undertaking, but I am at a point where most of the logic actually works and I have a real program with real buttons that I can click on. I made a program that actually works with my very limited coding knowledge! It would not have been possible without the help of AI. My patience and long hours paid off. Can I call myself a programmer yet? I'm not sure, since the code was written mostly by AI, not me personally. But I can confidently call myself the director and mastermind behind it 😎 and I actually want to learn more about Python so I can one-day code stuff myself without needing AI to do it for me. Here is a picture of it (I am proud of those blue buttons 😊): I've spent the last weeks developing an actual little app using Python. It all started with a Let's Play of Subnautica I saw on YouTube. Since Subnautica is one of my all-time favorite games, I got the itch to dive back in (pun intended). I play with tons of mods, so I had to check for a lot of updates and also juggle different versions since the last Subnautica update broke a lot of the older mods. So after some back and forth, I decided to remain on the older version for now. But then I noticed that because of that back and forth and uninstalling mods, all my mods were reinitialized, and that meant trouble for one of my favorite mods, Autosort Lockers. The mod adds automatic resource sorting inside the game, which is super handy. But it was built to only work with the game's resources, not modded items. It does offer config files though. So when I last used the mod, I painstakingly edited the configs and added all modded items, which took hours. And now, I accidentally messed them up and was supposed to redo all of that. The thought filled me with dread. So I asked ChatGPT, which I have grown quite fond of recently, to help me. Why did I ask ChatGPT? Well, I need to go a bit further back in time to explain that.

One day, not too long ago, I asked ChatGPT to reformat a long list. ChatGPT said, "Apologies, I cannot process such a long list. Here's a Python script, here's how to install Python, copy the script, run it and it will do what you want." I thought ChatGPT was crazy, surely that would never work!? Nut I was curious and also a little desperate so I did install Python and ran the script and ... it did what I wanted. I was stunned. Could I use ChatGPT to write code for me? Apparently, the answer was yes. So I spent a lot of time directing it, add this, add that, and I noticed that it was not at all as easy as I thought. ChatGPT removed code when it felt like it, and the longer it got the more it messed up. But also the more time I spent copying/pasting Python code, the more I understood. Sometimes, I would just ask "What exactly does this bit do?", and ChatGPT patiently gave me answers. Running the Python code from the command prompt got tedious very quickly though. I asked: "Can't you make a button for me that I can click??" To my surprise, ChatGPT said: "Sure, let's make a gui." And that was it, the moment I fell in love with Python. So I made a few attempts at this and that, most only half-finished because the project got too ambitious for the little knowledge I had. I heard about an AI especially made for writing code: Github's Copilot. I decided I had to try that. Since it only worked in real programmer's tools, I installed Visual Studio Code. Now I really felt like a programmer, using fancy tools! And Copilot made things easier, much easier. It did not delete all kinds of code like regular ChatGPT. It was even more helpful. I was super motivated and got to work on my "Autosort Lockers Filter Update Helper" since Python is very well suited for automating stuff. Because several config files were involved, and several values needed to be loaded, converted, compared, merged, loooked up, reformatted, and saved into multiple files, it was quite the undertaking, but I am at a point where most of the logic actually works and I have a real program with real buttons that I can click on. I made a program that actually works with my very limited coding knowledge! It would not have been possible without the help of AI. My patience and long hours paid off. Can I call myself a programmer yet? I'm not sure, since the code was written mostly by AI, not me personally. But I can confidently call myself the director and mastermind behind it 😎 and I actually want to learn more about Python so I can one-day code stuff myself without needing AI to do it for me. Here is a picture of it (I am proud of those blue buttons 😊):

...and the configs the app updated:

The app is not in a publishable state and I guess I would need to do far more tests and let someone who can actually code Python look it over before I would feel comfortable sharing it with anyone else, but it feels incredible to have pulled off something like this. I just wanted to share this accomplishment with someone!

#nonsims #coding adventures #I created an app

[mareenavee]

Fic Authors Self Rec!

Tagged by the indominable @kookaburra1701! Rules:

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love!

I love this. OKAY LET'S GO. Tell me about how proud you are of your work, friends. You've come so far <3

Tagging: @paraparadigm, @polypolymorph, @changelingsandothernonsense, @thana-topsy, @dirty-bosmer, @thequeenofthewinter, @gilgamish, @archangelsunited, @throughtrialbyfire, @expended-sleeper, @ladytanithia and YOU yes if you see this, talk kindly about your writing journey and TAG ME BACK <3

Below the cut because I do be ramblin' (: They're not really in any particular order, I just love them all for different reasons.

1) If We Knew Anything At All

This one was a hell ship prompted by a list that Topsy shared with a bunch of us and I had a brainwyrm, then ended up crying while I wrote the end of it. Quite possibly one of my favorite ever pieces. This one is both the inevitable end to my fic universe and something completely outside time. How did I manage this? Via Sheogorath's voicing. I don't think it gets more unreliable than that.

2) Metempsychosis

A very dear friend and fantastic teammate I met through Skywind sent me this prompt and it gave me such an excellent challenge not only to flex on weird god voice stuff again, but also to bust out some spoken word poetry tricks. I did end up recording myself reading this one too and it felt like old times. I loved all the layers of references I shoved into 1,000 words. It is also my first Morrowfic. And also one that reminded me what I am capable of even more strongly than some of my other projects did. 🥰

3) Serpens Caput

This one is newer, yes BUT OH MY GODS what a flex it was. ANOTHER Morrowfic but it's set in Ceth's fic universe featuring not only major character death but the mindset of a villain in his final moments. And we get to see Danger!Josh through his eyes. It was WEIRD. WEIRD WEIRD but so much fun. I don't think I've yelled so much about a fic whilst writing before. Ceth threw me this prompt, but I don't think was expecting this to end up...being this way (: Borrowed the description of Teldryn and Nerevar from her universe and just RAN WITH IT.

4) Little Dragon

This was written as part of my cute, happy LDB!Athis polycule AU where nothing is quite as horrifically messy as my main fic universe. It is a different kind of catharsis to write, often fun and humorous and a flex in that direction, since I didn't know what i was capable of—I always write pining and heartbreak lol. This came about as part of a fic writer's duel with AU (judged by Poly) which was honestly one of the coolest fandom experiences I've ever been in. It has become its own thing now with multiple other stories and I've been in yet another fandom duel since then. So it's all cute fuzzy feelings and happy memories and I love it to bits.

and last but certainly not least:

5) The World on Our Shoulders

My longfic which throws characters into extremely tough situations, handles horribly difficult themes and topics, shows people being messy and still finds ways to show it all with grace. It's what got me out of my multi-year writing slump and truly, truly brought me back to myself. So yes maybe some of the characters have some of my irl nonsense. Some scenes are far too relatable and it's a little scary sometimes how horrible that is, but it's a different kind of Catharsis. I love also the support its gotten so far for its specific type of storytelling structure as well as all the weird details that sprawl into other stories (Like my honorable mention written for Para, Recurse) and sequels and spin offs. It's been a great joy to be writing this and it's continued to inspire me. From draft one, which I wrote in challenge mode, posting every day this last February to now, where I am mid-ground-up-edit, I love this project to bits and will do all I can to see it through to the end. I see how much I can accomplish in this project. I see what can be done with common tropes and themes and even Fic in general. It's unalienated labor that I do for the sheer hell of it because I can and it's mine and I don't have to follow The Rules. There's something beautiful about that. It's one reason I get up at the crack of dawn every day -- to write for the sake of writing. Out of spite sometimes for all the ways the world tries to crush this kind of self expression out of us. This is my gem of a project. And I am proud of it and how far I've come since I started it. (:

So now it's your turn, if you got this far. Why do you write? How have your favorite fics you've written changed your perspective on the craft so far?

#AskMareena #Fic Authors Self Rec #The World on Our Shoulders #Dragonborn and Far-Star Marked #skyrim #skyrim fic #Nyenna #LDB/Athis #LDB/Teldryn #LDB/Teldryn Sero #Nerevarine Teldryn Sero #Nerevarine Teldryn #Nerevarine #elder scrolls #tes #tesblr #fanficblr

[noirshitsuji]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤️

mmmmmmm. MMMMMM. okay. there might be some recency bias in this, but in no particular order:

liededamp - as much as i meme it up myself i feel like i did manage to have some good character discussions in it and wrestle some real emotion within it as a crackfic, and i think it's resonated with some people a lot actually, which makes me very glad.

tried to touch you but you're cutthroat (stay to see it unfold) - obviously there was going to be a chloe(luka)-centric thing in this list because yes. i'm pretty satisfied with how the theming turned out in this one and my character work on chloe as well.

now this one sits here (whispers things to me) - also obviously there had to be an adrien piece there, and this is?? maybe my most popular one?? even though it's technically love square-focused. i spent like 20 mins trying to pick from the others and couldn't, and i am quite proud of that summary (and the rest of it, but the summary i think i did very effectively) and yes.

did you ever want it? (did you ever fight it?) - one-sided fabian pov fabriz fic. this one also really resonated with people who read it/seemed to leave an impression, and not just bc of the ship but a bunch of other things i put there, and i love fabian and it was so fun exploring the way i see his character and how he'd handle pining for his best friend, and i think i managed to pull off the theming around the five stages of grief reasonably well, so?? i'm happy with it.

saint, bastard, king - grisha fic where it's just. idk man something about the kaz/alina/nikolai (potential) dynamic makes the cogs in my brain turn. the way they're all leaders in their different ways and how they operate in different worlds but then they intersect and it's so??? fascinating to me??? but yeah i worked hard on this trying to figure out how to convey it and i think i managed to quite well??

ok yeah this was very difficult just because i do like?? a lot of my work?? like i always look at it and spot something to edit but overall i enjoy reading it and i'm happy with it and yes. i would've added circumscribe, eight-two-five (my kipps-centric l&co fic) as well bc it's the longest character-study/backstory/one-shot thing i've done and i'm very happy with it, but yes. oh look i did it anyway-

#ml fic #ml fanfiction #ml lovesquare #adrien agreste #chloe bourgeois #lukloe #quill kipps #lockwood & co fanfiction #lockwood & co fic #fabriz #fabian aramais seacaster #dimension 20 fic #fantasy high fic #grishaverse fic #shadow and bone fic #kaz brekker #alina starkov #nikolai lantsov #marinette dupain cheng #asks #my writing #my fic

[kangaracha]

i tried to goad people into asking me the ao3 questions like five times this month so i'm just gonna treat myself and answer em

How many words have you written this year? 247, 190

How many works did you publish this year? four

What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)? nevermore! and not just for wordcount either, though maybe a little bit because i've spent so much time with it. i'm just extremely pleased with the world building i've done and the complexity and depth of the plot and how i've gotten so far into it and i don't feel like i've become wayward yet, which is what usually happens even before i reach this point. i'm so pleased. i'm so excited to reach 200k and see where i'm up to and what's ahead.

What work of yours has the most hits? linger, which is funny because just like the ghosts it was about it haunts me

What work of yours got more feedback than you expected? to go beyond your borders, considering it's hard to get readers to come to something that's nearly completely original and it's just my silly little mental health fic, the audience that it gathered in the short time i was actually updating it regularly was really surprising and i love them

Favorite title you used oh lyre lyre for sure, i went to great lengths to ensure that title made a modicum of sense for that fic

If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most? hahahahaha stray kids all day. nevermore is skz cinematic universe so of course every chapter title is a lyric

Pairing you wrote the most for this year? so much gen fic, so little time. original fiction pairings.

Favorite pairing you wrote for this year? HMMMMMMMMMMMM from my original fic, leo/nes. they're funny.

What work was the quickest to write? queenmaker is the quickest to write, takes like an hour per chapter if that. in terms of strictly ao3 fics, lyre lyre was the fever dream of a few days.

What work took you the longest to write? well i started nevermore on the 4th of march and as of the 29th it is disgustingly far from being finished at 140k so i just don't know if i can say anything else. nevermore doesn't actually take long to write though really, it's just that it's a 300k kind of project. relevant to word count though, the unpublished pirate fic is actually probably the thing that's taking the longest, and my original all that is good/holy.

How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year? not counting every single novel i have sitting around, it's around 15, but a very casual 15 because i just go with the vibe to the extreme and with no intention to really finish any of them except like two of em

What’s your longest work of the year? hehe nevermore at 139, 583

What’s your shortest work of the year? apart from the cheeky 3 sentence fic the other day, overwinter at 1278

What WIP are you taking into next year with you? nevermore

What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag? oh. Angst.

Your favorite character to write this year? hehehehe lee minho

The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year? Y/N for queenmaker

What’s one pairing you want to explore next year? more gen fic please, tired of romance. if i had to pick one, angie/raihan from to go beyond your borders

Which work of yours have you reread the most? to go beyond your borders, although i am about to start a full edit of nevermore which is uh no mean feat.

How many kudos in total did you get this year? 202

Which work has the most comments? nevermore by a mile

Did you do any collaborative works this year? you know what they all ditched me to collaborate on their own, and they didn't even post the fic. can you believe it.

Did you write any gifts this year? uhhhh yes, it isn't gifted on ao3 but lyre lyre was for rain and i believe overwinter was for zom mom? keeps? one of those two

Did you receive any gifts this year? yesssss i received neverwas from keeps for my birthday and it was really cool and if you read anything on this list honestly make it that one, it stands alone and it's really weird and vibey

What’s your most common category? Gen

What do you listen to while writing? liked songs or a specific fic playlist on spotify on repeat. usually kpop only these days but it depends what i'm working on.

Favorite work you wrote this year? nevermore

Favorite line/passage you wrote this year? oh my god. out of 240k? yeah no worries i'll just pull it up. um. uhhhh. uhhhhhhh.

Biggest surprise while writing this year? oh that i finished nanowrimo and that if i didn't work such a physically demanding job it would have been easy. if i had all my time spare in that month i would have done 80-100k, when before this year i couldn't get past 25k a month. realising i had that capability just sitting there was crazy.

#eeeeee #i was correct this was fun #i thought i would get bored and cut questions out but i liked all of them #just enough thought provoking without becoming boring #anyway if you have MORE questions about this stuff please leave them in my ask box #i love talking about my fics i really do #roo writes

[lizlet]

2023, in bullet points

I find myself consumed by an assortment of random thoughts, as we reach the end of the year, and as the sun aims downward for one last sunset, I'm going to try sharing them... in the form of bullet points!

In January of 2023, I got to interview John Darnielle of The Mountain Goats, because he guest-starred on an episode of Poker Face and one of the cool things about working for a publication that's largely focused on music is that all I had to do to get his reps' info was ask a colleague. It was a good, fun interview, and he gave me his direct phone number in case I needed to ask him any follow-ups, and I actually did have something I needed to clarify. So I called him a second time, and during that second call, I told him the thing that I'd held back during that first interview, because I'm always on the fence about how much to say to people about how much I love their work: I told him how much I love the song "This Year," how I blast it every New Year's Eve and scream along in triumph, because it's so much easier to sing "I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me" on December 31st. I don't have a transcript of that second call, but I remember he took the compliment with practiced grace, saying something along the lines of "Thank you for saying that, because it means I know I did at least one thing with my time on this earth that helps people."

That's often what I think about, when measuring my accomplishments for the year — what are the things I did that made the world a slightly better place, on a big or large level?

I know I wrote a lot. Wrote stuff I was very proud of and wrote stuff I was less proud of, but sometimes that's what happens. Got into a good groove with Wren Graves at Consequence, who became my default editor early in the year and has proven to be annoyingly good at noticing when a piece could be better and pointing that out. It's good to have an editor who is a lovely and generous person and who also knows your flaws (like, for example, the fact that I maybe repeat words a little too often; if Wren were editing this, he'd send me back this paragraph with the word "good" in bold three times, and he would be right to do so).

Did a lot of interviews, even with the double strike shutting down a lot of opportunities, and checked a few people off the ol' bucket list. (I don't know why John Cho has eluded me for years, but achievement unlocked, thanks to The Afterparty Season 2.) It is still a bit baffling to the awkward-ass adolescent who lurks inside me that a significant part of my job is talking to famous people, and that I may be pretty good at it. (Sorry Wren.)

Hit my second anniversary at Consequence, an outlet that lets me get weird when the occasion calls for it and always offers up new challenges. (Got a couple of big challenges already in the works for January, which I'm doing my best not to think about until January 2nd.) It's a small but mighty team, and I'm happy to be working with them all.

Got elected to the position of secretary on the Television Critics Association board, which has also presented a wild new array of challenges, but the other board members are great and Winter Press Tour is on! ::knocks on any available wood nearby::

I tried as much as possible to be a person who says yes to things, especially if they might lead to wild new experiences. Saw more friends and more theater and live comedy than I have in years past, which makes me happy. (Especially when I can combine the friends WITH the theater and live comedy.)

Also got to spend a good amount of time with my family, who are cool people that I just genuinely enjoy spending time with. Even went on a gosh-darned vacation with them, to Ireland and Scotland, which was overall pretty magical. It's funny how when you're a kid, going on a bus trip to look at pretty scenery sounds very boring, and yet when you're an adult, that's just a really wonderful time.

Continued two streaks of approximately equal length: sobriety and daily usage of Duo Lingo. Both have been rewarding in their own unique ways.

Thanks in part to Duo Lingo, I learned how to type é and ü characters on a keyboard, which isn't a huge deal necessarily, but I have been typing on computers for nearly the entire span of my life (started around three or four years old) and so learning a new trick, after all this time, was pretty exciting. You go around thinking you know everything there is to know, and then you learn a new thing, and it makes you excited to find out what else there is to learn.

That's the energy I try to bring to every year, even a year like 2023, which on a global level was undeniably pretty garbage, especially the way it set the stage for 2024 being potentially worse. I donate money to big and small causes and take public transit whenever I can and only spend time on Elon Musk's Twitter when it's absolutely essential (someone has posted a link to an adorable cat video). I know I could be doing more. I hope I'm doing enough, and try to exceed "enough" when I can.

I had to take a break from writing this just now because I'm in the middle of my second-favorite New Year's Eve tradition: Doing laundry, so that when I get home after a casual hang tonight, I can curl up in my nice clean sheets and wake up like a big toasty cinnamon bun. Best way to start a new year, in my opinion.

While handling laundry, I've been watching The O.C., and it feels like a true portent of good things that my rewatch has brought me to the New Year's Eve episode, even though this means the arrival of Oliver, who I recall being Bad News.

Still, this reminds me to mention that the book I can't stop recommending to people right now is Ben McKenzie's Easy Money, a surprisingly fun read that left me almost feeling like I understand crypto (and definitely makes me think I understand the grotesque human cost of it).

That last bullet point also strongly indicates that I should try to read more books in 2024.

I'm writing this, like I write pretty much everything, in Evernote, and out of laziness I'm going to post it to Tumblr because that should be relatively easy, but I do want to write more personal stuff in the new year, and might look into setting up a new blog or (non-Substack) newsletter for such a purpose.

But I'm also continuing to work on novels — 500 words or so a day, every day I can, until it starts to add up to something. I've developed a lot of daily practices over the last two and a half years: I journal every morning, go running every other day, write my 500 words in the evenings after logging off work, and keep my Wordle and Duo Lingo streaks alive, amongst other things. And they all contribute to me feeling saner and stronger than I remember feeling during the worst periods of my life to date. Worse days may be coming. But I'm glad to be starting the new year with... well, with clean sheets, at the very least.

And before I go out for the night, I may jump around the apartment and sing.

Auld Lang Syne, bitches. Good luck to us all in 2024.

#in which our heroine #happy new year

[canirove]

Ten years | Chapter 1

Summary: It's been 10 years since I left him standing at the altar to go follow my dreams. I failed, but he didn't. He became a football player, just as he always wanted to. One of the best in Europe. And after not seeing each other for a decade, he is coming back. Declan Rice, England's captain, probably the love of my life... He's coming back home.

Author's note: Welcome to another story inspired by one of my dreams 😅 Though mine was completely different, because the one left standing at the altar was Rodri, the one who plays for City (super random), and I was running away with Ramsdale 🤷🏼‍♀️

Also, yes, that first sentence is outdated 😂 But I wrote this months ago, and editing it feels weird 😅

Hope you like it, and thank you very much for reading! 💜

Next chapter

Masterlist

"I'm sure that if it was the Queen coming, they wouldn't be making such a fuss. They even cut the main road!"

"He isn't the Queen, but he is the most famous person this town has seen since... Forever?"

"What about that time Elton John stopped Lola to ask her for directions?"

"That's what Lola says, but no one else saw him. And you know her, she is constantly mixing people. Just say that it bothers you that all this is for him. No one will blame you."

"It doesn't bother me. And people will blame me. It's been 10 years, and they still give me pitiful looks when he wins something."

"Well, you were the one who left to fulfill her dreams because you didn't want to be stuck on this town, and then..."

And then things completely turned around, and I found myself back on this town, my dreams shattered, while the one who wanted to stay was out there living his dreams and being successful at it. Highly successful in fact.

"Do you think she's coming with him?"

"Even if he didn't want to bring her, she'll find a way to come. I've never seen a bigger attention seeker than that woman."

"Jealous?"

"Me? Of that woman? Please, Claire" I scoff.

"I don't know. You always speak of her with such... Hate."

"I don't hate her. I just dislike her."

"Because you wish you were her?"

"Oh, yes, I wish I was a woman with no purpose in life beyond taking selfies, getting nails the size on my foot, and self tanning. Badly."

"Rude. And that's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Whatever. I've moved on, and so should you and everyone on this damned town."

"Hey, don't talk like that about us. You've actually learnt to love it here. You are just too stubborn and proud to admit it."

"Yeah, yeah" I say, rolling my eyes.

"If I could have your attention, please" I hear my brother Dom say. He's the one who has organized this... I want to say charade, but they call it celebration. The town now has a new football pitch and a summer camp for kids from all around the area, which is something amazing. But what isn't amazing, is that for the inauguration they've called him. Declan Rice. One of the best football players of his generation, and England's captain among many other things. Like being my ex-boyfriend and the man I left standing at the altar 10 years ago.

"Thank you everyone for coming" Dom continues. "Today it's a very special day for our little town. Not only because we get to inaugurate these amazing new installations that will hopefully help our kids follow their dreams, but also because, finally, we've managed to have him back with us. The man who was able to follow his dreams, and become a star. Please give a warm welcome to the one and only, Declan Rice!"

"Did he actually have to say that last part?" I say while everyone around me has started cheering and clapping, some eyes looking in my direction to see my reaction. Because if it hadn't been for me, Declan would have followed his dad's steps and become a doctor, and he would have never gone to London to try and get a spot at West Ham's academy as he always dreamed of. I am the reason he is where he is. Well, his talent helped a lot too, but my decision was what pushed him to do it.

"Thank you everyone" Declan says from the little stage they've built for the occasion. "You can't imagine how special it is to be here today with all of you. With my people."

That makes the crowd cheer even louder than before, and I can't help but roll my eyes. Again. After that he continues talking, thanking the mayor and Dom for everything they've done, but I stop listening. I'm just looking at him, at how damn good he looks. He's always been handsome, but as he's got older, he's gotten better and better looking. And I hate myself for finding him that attractive. I've moved on. And seeing him run a hand through his hair, should not make me feel the things I’m feeling. It should not.

"So, yeah, thank you very much everyone. Love you all" he says, giving the microphone back to Dom before they all start posing for photos.

"Can we leave now? I have to work tomorrow" I say to Claire.

"But now is when they are serving the food! And the drinks! Now it's the fun part!"

"Then stay and enjoy it. I don't mind."

"But I do mind doing it alone. Please, stay just a bit more" she says, pouting.

"Ok, fine. But just for one drink."

"Yay!" Claire says, hugging me.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━      

"There you are, sis" Dom says, coming to where Claire and I are seated. "I thought you would have left by now."

"I tried, but someone didn't let me" I say, nodding towards my friend.

"I'm glad she did. Because this is the adult thing to do. Especially when you keep saying you've moved on and all that."

"Don't they need you somewhere, Dom? Maybe taking more photos with him and Barbie Malibu?"

"She is really nice, you know? You should meet her."

"Speak of the devil..." Claire mutters.

"Dominic! Hey!"

"Birgit, hello. What can I do for you?"

"Well, we are having some issues with the champagne on our table, it isn't cold enough."

When I hear that, I can't help but laugh. But not a normal laugh, no. I do the ugliest laugh you could ever imagine.

"Sis, are you alright?" Dom asks.

"Yes, yes. My beer just went through the wrong way."

"Ok... Anyway, I'll see if I can do anything about the champagne."

"Thank you, Dominic. You are the best" Birgit says, batting her fake eyelashes before her eyes follow him as he disappears among the crowd. "So" she says, looking back at Claire and I. "You are her."

"What?"

"You are Dominic's sister, aren't you?"

"I am, yes."

"Which means you are her. Deccy's ex. The one who abandoned him."

"I'm sorry, how did you just call him? Deccy?"

"Is there anything wrong with it?"

"No, no" I say, trying not to laugh. Again. "It's just that I had never heard that before."

"Well, that's because I came out with the name."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you. But you know... You aren't what I expected."

"How so?"

"You worked as a model, didn't you? I expected you to look like one."

"And how are models supposed to look like?"

"Like Sasha, for example."

"Sasha Pivovarova? Luss?" I ask her.

"Who?"

"Nothing, forget about it. It's late, I should probably go back home."

"Yes, yes" Birgit says. "You have to open the town's pub tomorrow, don't you?"

"Exactly. Someone has to give breakfast to the tourists."

"Good, good. But before you go..." she says, coming closer to me and grabbing me by the arm, stabbing me with her stupid long nails. "You better stay away from him. He is mine."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You know what I mean. Stay away from Declan." And with that, she lets go of my arm, giving Claire and I a big fake smile before walking away.

"What the hell was that?" Claire asks.

"I think Barbie Malibu just threatened me."

#declan rice #declan rice x reader #declan rice imagine #declan rice fanfic #football fanfic #football imagine

[theatrevampire]

Your fics are so good! Which is your favorite fic you’ve written and which was your least favorite and why?

least? hahah oh boy. well i know people were not fans of my friends one-shot, but that was self-indulgent and written as a way to cheer myself up so i don't regret it. i would probably have to say 'sweet revenge/stubborn love.' i guess i didn't think people would hate armand as much as they did? 🤣 i just sort of always forgive him for all his devious actions so i was a bit shocked at how pissed people were, but YES he was technically a villain in that... i should not have been SO surprised. i say LEAST favorite in that it probably stressed me out the most to write it--but i still LOVE so many parts of that fic especially the last chapter. (i've gotta go back in and edit though, i think it's probably FILLED with mistakes). and my favorite fic will always be 'in spite of all my faults.' my only gripe with it is that i wish i had fleshed out armand and daniel's characters a bit more in it BUT it's definitely the piece of writing i am most proud of 🥰 i feel very mushy and earnest when i talk about it, but it really was just something i had SO much fun with. i looked FORWARD to writing it and i actually cried when i finished it. i was averaging 9k words a chapter and it was the easiest thing i've ever written. everything came to me so quickly. it felt very RIGHT. even if no one had ever read that fic (which luckily many people did and left incredibly kind comments on it) i would still be the most proud of that one. sorry this is probably VERY GROSS to just talk about my own writing.... like omg ew. but yeah, i'm really fucking proud of it.🩷

#ask #anon #sorry these answers were longer that i expected lol

[yesireadbooks]

Writer Questions Tag

This is gonna be loonggg... haha. Thank you @starbuds-and-rosedust for the tag!

Gently tagging: @the-chaotic-writer @holdmyteaplease @enne-uni @ashwithapen and an open tag for you!

1) What motivates you to write?

Ok, this is a very philosophical one. I've always had a lot of stories but never the right audience to tell them. So, I began to write. This was an on and off thing going on for a while and was basically a thing I did during holidays. But, now that school is a bit easier and the work load lighter, I can start telling my stories. So, whilst the need to tell my stories is one motivation, I also want to write something which would leave an imprint on the reader(s). Something that would either someone finds relatable or opens up someone's perspective.

2) A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

Ooof, so, there is this one opening I'm in love with. Mainly cuz it attacks me haha. This is from Experiment 615.

Word on the streets is that if you see a scientist and a policeman together, you are either the next experiment, or the last one is near you. But no one thought of a story for when five policemen, two scientists and ten soldiers and two army generals arrive at the Chromia State High School. So, here is one.

3) Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

This one undoubtably goes to Hoshito, whom you might already know cuz I rant about her like a lot. She is a toddler, speaks only Japanese and an adopted child following the death of her parents during a car crash (I'm sorry, little one). She is so adorable and sometimes instead of writing, I just keep smiling at my screen.

4) What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

This is a quite hard one; I've never thought about it. But now that I did, I think my favourite part is reading through the second or third draft, which would ideally be the best version of my wip.

5) What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

Ouch, this one hurts my self-depreciating personality. I think I am good at conveying emotions via psychiatric reactions. That is becuz I tend to find ways to info dump in my wips and this is the way I info dump Psychiatry. That helps me write some realistic foreshadowing as well as maybe comical hints.

6) What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

I love the engagement and encouragement of the community. Because, after my English Teacher, this is the only community that has actually said something good about my writing. Academic and Fictional.

7) A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

I find notepad very very useful in my writing. I use LibreOffice Writer for normal writing but sometimes when I have only sketch ideas, or poems, I first write it in notepad and then, cross edit with multiple tabs open.

8) A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

Ooohh, now I won't bombard you with this, I have @scalmropia for that, but I will rant about the royal attire I made for the Monarch and Princess Admiral.

9) What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

This is something I often tell myself. Take a moment and do something else, like maybe draw an OC or make a map or maybe even do something crazy like writing a national anthem or an army skit. That way, you can help yourself immerse more in the wip(s) while also reducing the pressure. Personally, doing this has made me think up better character dynamics, flow of story and even some new pre/sequel or unrelated wips.

Also, try unrelated short stories and poetry. That helps to stretch and loosen you brain muscles (not literally haha) and in the long run, help with your main writing.

Also, doing something else also might push you for balancing wips and other creatives. It did that to me.

10) Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters:

Well, it goes without question that @holdmyteaplease is my biggest supporter while @enne-uni @sanbukk3t @anonymousfoz @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @starbuds-and-rosedust are some of my biggest supporters. Thank you so much y'all, much love and appreciation! Then when I comes to people whose works, I love, I cannot stress this enough, I LOVE ALL OF YOUR (plural) WORKS.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk..!

Clean question set under the cut

1) What motivates you to write?

2) A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

3) Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

4) What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

5) What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

6) What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

7) A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

8) A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

9) What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

10) Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters:

#tag game #thank you #writing #writeblr

[districtunrest]

20 questions: fic author edition!

tagged by @caesarflickermans :)

how many works do you have on ao3?

12 posted. I've deleted a couple over the years that I wasn't proud of. looking back, I should've orphaned them :/

2. what's your total AO3 word count?

169,931

3. what fandoms do you write for?

mostly the hunger games. I have one that's from the book thief, and one unposted WIP from a:tla.

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

let the memories be good for those who stay

gym class

something of our own

cinderella man

so this is your maverick

5. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

yes! I like to thank people and reply to their feedback. I love to discuss fic with writers and readers. I leave detailed comments for that reason.

6. what's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

my first one, to have and to hold. (This happens year after year and it will never stop.)

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

cinderella man. (Where Katniss kissed him on his cheek before heading for the forest with her bow feels puckered and hot (sunburned), tingling. Happy. He thinks it's a good look for him.)

8. do you get hate on fics?

not hate but I've had criticism over some Gale-related parts of SOO. just as well, I am now very self-conscious about that part of the story. 😀

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

not really, or not explicitly. I appreciate when sexual content is more emotion-focused (good or bad) and character-driven and adds to the story. I skim/skip explicit content in my own reading so I definitely don't care to write it myself. I don't think I'd be very good at it, either; I am very clinical about the body.

10. do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you've written?

I've written one, and it's so crazy! in a fun, unhinged-teenager way. it's a hunger games/book thief crossover called the callers from the coffin, where Death follows Haymitch over the years in the same way they did Liesel.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that I know of.

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

no.

13. have you ever cowritten a fic before?

nope. and for good reason - I'd be terrible at that, between being a bit of a control freak and having an inconsistent writing schedule.

14. what's your all-time favorite ship?

zutara (to the point where I can never write it and am honestly so picky when it comes to reading it)

15. what's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

so this is your maverick ought to have a second part but I just don't know if I'll ever get around to it.

16. what are your writing strengths?

punctuation and grammar lmao as well as writing naturally paced dialogue. I prioritize good/accurate characterization in fanfic, but I won't say that's an actual strength of mine.

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

my confidence, first and foremost lol.

also, I really have to pare down my rough drafts. I do a lot of hand-holding without realizing, even though I love to read between the lines and infer when I read other people's work. but I worry I don't write as masterfully to be able to do that well.

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

fun to read! not fun to write extensively, and so I don't. the most I've done is have Rudy in let the memories be good for those who stay say ja or other words that were italicized/isolated in the original text. I try to follow the rules of the original text. otherwise, I'd just say 'spoke in X language' but continue on in English.

19. first fandom you wrote for?

a:tla, on nickelodeon forums 💀

20. favorite fic you've ever written?

that's hard! I am really having fun with something of our own, so that one.

tagging: any mutual or follower of mine who hasn't yet!!

#//// #///////// #//////////////// #////// #////////////// #hunger games #fanfiction #random facts about myself