#Not apologizing for title

[getrope1]

You cant make this shit up

[justanimaniac]

Time for more uh random doodles

[fawnforevergone]

crazy how hozier compared the fact he couldn't tell his relationship was failing because he was too blinded by love to the idea that icarus could not tell he was dying because he was too enamoured by the sun and we were supposed to just carry on living like everything's normal.

[payasita]

Part of something, once (but in a practical sense, all that matters is whether theseus still recognizes the ship)

[murdockparker]

Of the Same Mind

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: A mutual distaste in a certain author—should he even have the grace to be called that—leads to an unexpected meeting.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: mentions of drinking/alcohol, pregnancy, fluff, time skip

A/N: a cute lil request! made me actually read a little Byron myself to get the gist! and it wasn't that terrible I'm so sorry to disappoint

Dull. 

Everything was dull. What was supposed to be the social event of the season was shortened due to poor weather—an outdoors event of sorts, it seemed, Benedict really didn’t pay his mother much attention when she explained the whole ordeal. Thus, half of the ton was crammed into Lord Whitehill’s home instead of his luscious grounds, all due to the pouring rain. Most conversation was boring, most of the ladies were whining about the rain, the men whining about their whining wives and daughters. 

At least the drinks were good. 

“…seriously think that fodder is worth your breath?”

Benedict’s ears perked up, focusing on a conversation that was decidedly not about the current weather. A breath of fresh air. 

“I-I did not mean to insult you, miss,” a young gentleman sputtered, his face rosy red. “I only meant to indulge you in poetry of the highest regard—” 

“If that was your intention, you would have chosen from a finer list of poets. Byron?” The lady nearly laughed out loud. “Byron is the bottom of the barrel, as it were, so your intention was ill-placed.”

“Byron is a well-regarded poet—”

“By who? Chamber pots?” 

Benedict nearly spat out his drink. The action alone brought the attention of the arguing couple to him—both sets of eyes trained on the tall Bridgerton at once. “Oh,” he fake coughed, “it seems the drink went down the wrong way, please, forgive me.”

The man—who Benedict now recognized as Lord Whitehill’s son—scoffed. “Bridgerton. You are well versed in the arts, are you not?”

Benedict nodded. “I dabble.”

“Would you please explain to Miss (Y/L/N) that Byron is a novel poet,” Mr. Whitehill asked, “and that she should be flattered I recited poetry for her, regardless of the poet?”

Miss (Y/L/N). So that was the lady’s name. 

“But that would be lying, Whitehill,” Benedict gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. “And I am ever a gentleman, raised to never lie, especially to a fine lady such as Miss (Y/L/N).”

She smiled at that. 

“You do not agree?”

“Oh I certainly agree with Miss (Y/L/N),” Benedict said quickly, setting his glass down. “Byron is a mockery to the art—meaningless words and jaunty titles, why, I tried to read his latest and it put me right to sleep.”

“I fear I had the same reaction,” Miss (Y/L/N) said, turning to Benedict in earnest. “Right before I decided to throw it to the flames.”

They both laughed.

“Imbeciles, the both of you,” Mr. Whitehill said, pushing past the newly acquainted pair. “Keep insulting me like that and I’ll have my father throw the both of you out into the storm.”

“Mr. Whitehill,” Miss (Y/L/N) said softly, her eyes melting into puddles of apology. “I fear we were not insulting you, but rather your taste in poets. I also fear there is a stark difference in that, for if I were to insult you, I’d make a more fitting jab, more educated in that regard.”

The shorter gentleman stormed off, steam nearly pouring from his ears. Benedict laughed.

“I must say, Miss (Y/L/N),” Benedict leaned down. “You have quite the sharp tongue.”

“I am known to be rather well spoken,” she beamed, standing a little straighter. “Perhaps it is my taste in literature?”

“For that, I believe we are in agreement,” Benedict said, grabbing a fresh glass from the table beside him. “May I offer the lady a beverage?”

“Only if you decide to share whatever’s in that pocket of yours,” she pointed to his chest. Benedict’s ears went pink. “Do not think I did not see you pour an added flavoring into the lemonade—it seems impolite that you would neglect to share.”

“It would be impolite,” Benedict said, carefully pulling his flask out of his coat. “I am surprised you saw that, though, given the crowded room.”

“You are a tall man, Mr. Bridgerton,” she said, taking the glass from his hand. Benedict poured a healthy amount of clear liquor into her cup before adding the rest to his own. “I would have found it hard to ignore you.”

“Your first season? I presume?”

“Technically,” she said, looking up into his blue eyes. “My family, we just moved to Mayfair. My father came into some money and relocated us here this year, my brother is set to study at Eton in the fall.”

“And you?”

“I am now expected to marry a rich and eligible bachelor,” she laughed into her glass. “Which I really have no problem doing, save for the fact that gentleman is nothing like Mr. Whitehill.”

“Mr. Whitehill is rather rich,” Benedict smirked. “Would that not placate you?”

“And listen to him dribble about Byron? Perish that thought,” she said. “When I do marry, I expect my husband to be of the same mind, a similar taste in the arts.”

“You know,” Benedict nearly whispered, “that is an admirable thought. But how will you find this man?”

She looked him up and down, quickly and all at once, returning to drink from her glass.

“I suppose I will know when I find him,” she smirked.

Benedict smiled back. “Well, please let me know when you do, I feel rather invested in your prospects.”

“You will be the first to know, I assure you,” Miss (Y/L/N) said, nodding her head. “But, if I may be so bold, if you are not currently preoccupied, would you care to further our discussion on Byron? It is hard to find someone who agrees with such a… contrasting opinion of the poet.”

“Why, Miss (Y/L/N),” Benedict finished his glass, offering his arm, “I was afraid you’d never ask.”

—

The gardens on the property were lovely, so lush and full of life. She made good on her promise to keep them well maintained, only keeping the finest blooms and plants in their care. It was always the perfect place to spend time on days like today, sunny, a gentle breeze. 

They had given the governess a day off, her mother had fallen ill, it was the least the Bridgertons could do for her.

“Mother!” 

The lady looked up from her book, eyes meeting with her eldest daughter. Blue eyes, just like her father.

“Yes, darling?”

“Might I go inside to grab other books? Aunt Eloise recently sent some to Father and I want to read them.”

The lady gave her daughter a trying look. “Do you not think they may be above your comprehension level, my love? They were intended for your father, after all.”

“No need,” a looming voice bellowed. “I have them right here.” 

She didn’t need to look up to know who it belonged to. “Benedict, I thought you were spending time in the studio this afternoon.”

“And miss spending time with my darling wife and children?” Benedict grinned, the crooked way she fell in love with. “That seems foolish on my part.”

“Father!” Their eldest exclaimed, running over to the tallest Bridgerton. “You brought the books?”

“Indeed,” Benedict nodded, handing the parcel off to his daughter. “Aunt Eloise thought we may have better use of these than her and Phillip do.”

Their daughter lit up with excitement—ever the reader, she was. It took a village to keep their library stocked with appropriate books for her age, but she was quickly out-reading her entire family’s collection. “Thank you, Father!”

“Well,” Benedict said modestly, “you must write to your Aunt Eloise and thank her, I had little to do with such a gift.”

“What about me, papa?” 

Their son, only a few years younger than their daughter came bounding up past his escaping sister, clearly having been playing in the mud. “Do I have any gifts from auntie?”

(Y/N) opened her arms. “Not this time, sweetheart, but come here, let mama wipe that dirt off of your nose—” 

“No!” He exclaimed, turning from his mother. “Dirt makes me ruggable—like Uncle Colin!”

“Rugged,” Benedict corrected gently. “And, no, dirt makes you dirty. You need to stop spending so much time with Colin…”

“Once baby brother is here I will,” their son nodded, putting both hands on his hips, looking down at his sitting mother.

“Oh darling,” (Y/N) said, trying to raise to her feet. Benedict quickly offered his hands, pulling her up. “Baby will not be here for a few more months.”

“Then more time with Uncle Colin!”

Benedict and (Y/N) sighed, watching their adventurous son run back to the mud. “We must write Colin, tell him of the monster he has created.”

“Our eldest is such an easygoing flower,” Benedict said, noting how she was carefully skimming through the various books on her lap. “Our son tests our patience.”

“And how do you think this one will be?” (Y/N) asked, placing his hand on her swelling stomach. She only had two or so more months until the delivery, if she had been correct on the conception. The latest Bridgerton wedding seemed to be the culprit, stolen kisses and a romantic rendezvous to the greenhouse away from the party—it was a perfect recipe for baby number three. “Calm and collected? Devilish and adventurous?”

“I pray they are just like their mother,” Benedict rubbed her belly affectionately. “And perhaps a bit more behaved than their brother… I suppose I should also write my mother an apology.”

“Whatever for?”

“I reckon my brothers and I acted much like our son,” Benedict said sheepishly. “Acting like Bridgerton boys, I am afraid.”

“As if that is the only explanation,” she giggled, leaning into his side. “But I am sure your mother would appreciate such a gesture. Perhaps you should send her a bouquet from our garden, too?”

“An excellent idea, my love,” Benedict said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “What a brilliant mind you have.”

“Father, Mother!” Their daughter called out, waving them towards her. “Aunt Eloise sent a book by an author I have never heard of before.”

“Oh?” Benedict quirked his brow, walking with his wife over to her. “And what author may that be?”

“A Lord Byron,” she said, showing the book with a deep brown cover to her parents. Benedict scooped the tome quickly from his daughter’s grasp, holding it close to his chest.

“And you shall never read such filth,” Benedict said seriously.

“Oh Benedict,” (Y/N) laughed. “Perhaps we should allow our daughter to expand her mind—come to her own conclusions on the matter? Surely Aunt Eloise meant the gift in kind.”

“Aunt Eloise clearly meant to send it as a cruel prank,” Benedict corrected.

“What is so wrong with that author, Father?”

“A shorter conversation would be what is not wrong with this author,” Benedict said, turning to call his son. The little boy ran over to his father’s side, ever eager. “Take this and bury it, preferably far away from here.” His wife could not stop her laughter, watching their son hurriedly run over to the new rose bushes, making good work at digging a deep enough hole for the book. “You,” Benedict pointed at the girl, “are forbidden to read anything written by that lowly man.”

“Oh Benedict,” (Y/N) admonished, trying hard to stop her laughter, “forbidding her from reading seems silly—”

“Are we not of the same mind on Byron?” Benedict asked. “I rather think that is how we met, is it not, dearest wife?”

She pursed her lips, fighting a smile. “We are.”

“Besides,” Benedict stood a little straighter, “the roses could use a bit more sustenance.”

She could only roll her eyes.

[sickwhispers]

PLAYING FAVORITES

Pairing: Dandy x reader

Relationship: romantic

Warning: no warnings surprising, are you guys shocked

Type: headcanons + drabble

It's no secret that he picks favorites

"Dandy, I appreciate the sentiment but..." you stare at the medkit in your hands, a confused look on your face as you attempt to understand just why he had given it to you. You definitely didn't need it, and you certainly had all your hearts intact. The only wound you had received during the last floor you had ventured into was a tiny scratch you had made yourself. Which had been a complete accident when you found yourself tripping over a capsule and onto the floor. "I don't need this..."

"Nonsense! Take it, free of charge! We don't want our greatest friend dying any time soon, do we?" He winked, nudging the first aid further into you. It seemed like he wasn't taking no for an answer.

"Hey, uh- I need one too." Oh god, Vee looked terrible. Normally, only one of her antennas would be bent. But, this time, it had looked like a twisted had tried to forcefully rip the other one off her head. And when that didn't work, decided to scrunch it up and tug at it until sparks came flying out of its base. The left side of her screen had been cracked, a long line running down from top to bottom with tiny strands breaking off near the edge. Just one look at her and it was almost obvious that she had lost a heart, and probably would've lost the last one had she not gotten into the elevator on time.

Dandy took one look at her, his smile never wavering as he spoke. Although, if you looked close enough, you could see the strain behind it. "Two hundred tapes."

Safe to say the others would catch onto this little trend after a while

He pretended he wasn't biased when it came to you

Acting dumb like there was no difference in the way he treated you, compared to how he treated everyone else

Sure, he would smile and wave, act nice just to keep the tapes rolling in

He was still their friend, he couldn't just be mean

But, he couldn't doubt how special you were compared to them

Day one he was practically at your beck and call, even before everything had turned to ruin

He knew things were different now, he knew you probably wouldn't let him do all the things he used to back when you didn't have to worry about the possibility of having some corrupted version of your friends tear you to pieces

But, he could still dream, couldn't he?

He couldn't help but indulge in fantasies every now and then

Letting his head rest in his hands as he watched you interact with the others

Sure, he would've preferred if your attention was on him

But, he could pretend he didn't mind sharing

Although, sometimes he wasn't so good at it

He'd miss the days when you'd let him just lay beside you

His head on your stomach as he'd pick at the floor beneath you both, mindlessly staring up at you in an almost dazed like look

The others used to tease him about it

About how well known his feelings for you were, and yet he never wanted to admit it

After all, what would happen if he did?

There were risks he had to consider when it came to telling you how he felt

And he never liked any of them

He almost preferred keeping them a secret, letting them fester inside until they were practically pouring out of every crevice in a desperate attempt to keep himself sane

Maybe you were the reason he hadn't gone crazy yet

But, if you kept your attention straying from him for a bit too long, there's a good chance he might just lose it

Make sure to talk to him every round

Say hello, tell him about the twisteds you encountered, share how you made a mistake when extracting ichor from a machine and almost run into a wall while trying to hide

Anything. Just anything.

He needs it.

[spkyart]

First impression

[thetimelordbatgirl]

James Somerton Apology 2: Electric Boogaloo summed up.

[flowersofbuffunerary]

everyone’s still hung up on the rosquez rivalry bc there wasn’t ever a satisfying conclusion, there’s no clear winner… which is why i’m proposing the uccio salucci vs santi hernandez charity boxing match, broadcast live on sky sports and commentated by the aliens to finally settle it

[beaulesbian]

The Terror 1.10 + captain

[kirbys-epic-yarn]

ALRIGHT WELL… i can’t say i was intending my first post on this account to be fanart BUT!! cheesy hfj drops a teaser and i go Running. holy shit i’m so excited for whatever this is about to be. i hope i scream or cry or get freaked out or all of the above

[tuktukpodfics]

Chapter 11: Water II Part I B | While Mighty Oaks Do Fall

"They have reached the top of a cliff of ice. Zuko walks forward to the edge and looks down and down and down."

Podfic of @a-witch-in-endor's Fire Sage Zuko AU: Chapter 11. Corresponds with the second half of Chapter 9 in the text version.

In which Zuko goes for a swim (again).

[atlasishere]

so i have not had time to write more of the grief troy fic but i can offer some headcanons about troy that definitely won’t play a role in certain scenes (i am lying theyre so important to both me and the plot)

1. The Dancer from ep 23 was based off of Troy’s mom bc she had a deep love and passion for so many different dance styles

2. Troy’s mom taught him many different dancing styles once he started showing interests in different sports, and specifically steam sledding, to help him build stamina, agility, endurance and strength (and other stuff)

3. Troy is a near perfect copy of his mom and that’s why he bleaches his hair

4. Randallion is a near perfect copy of their dad

i’m curious on what you think the importance of these will be in my fic

[jynxedshapeshifter]

ace attorney headcanons i have because of the fic i'm writing (some random, some sad)

Trucy will randomly appear on the back of the couch in the Wright Anything Agency and scare the shit out of anyone sitting there having a conversation

The loophole in the evidence room (that being, covering the sensor in the evidence lockers to get by the fingerprint lock) still exists because the police department never updated anything

Daryan wasn't blackmailed into helping the chief justice get his hands on a Borginian cocoon, but he was nervous about what would happen if he didn't help, so he decided to help to avoid finding out what would happen if he didn't

Klavier regularly experiences delusions. Usually he can sleep them off but occasionally he gets ones that are bad enough that he's incapable of sleeping

If Klavier had a mental health episode before the Gavinners broke up, he'd have one of them help him through it. usually Daryan helped him

Ema is trans and the only reason she was able to put words to her dysphoria is because Mia's also trans and explained dysphoria to Lana when Mia and Lana were in college

Apollo enjoys playing solitaire on his phone when he doesn't have anything else to do

Ema and Apollo both worry more about other people's health and safety over their own. In Ema's case this usually manifests as ignoring her own physical health and safety to help people she cares about and in Apollo's case this usually manifests as ignoring his own psychological needs and bottling up his feelings

When Apollo swears on impulse, he doesn't do it in English, he does it in Khura'inese

Apollo occasionally has such bad emotional breakdowns that he wakes up with emotional hangovers (yes it's a real thing)

Kristoph killed his and Klavier's parents when he was a teenager. It's considered a cold case because Kristoph covered his tracks well enough that no evidence was found

[doldulce]

Y'all got some cool as hell OCs. I could not resist the siren song to draw a few

PCs: Paloma (@uselessdolblog), Mikie (@femboyhunting), Aimie (@fraternum-momentum), Dead Fish (@deadfish-dol)

[acerby]

Barbatos: Puppygirl Mode

So I Finally got around to building a HGIBO kit, and what better kit to build than Barbatos lupus rex! I fucking love the Rex, is probably one of my fav designs in all of gundam. It reminds me of a werewolf, or like if a gundam and a Zoid fused. 

But the build was easy, it's a HG after all. The inner frame is cute. The poly caps make her a little wobbly, and her articulation is a bit limited given her forearms and thighs are rather small. And it uses a lot of stickers which is a little much.

hanging out with sister

But them claws are everything. I know she comes with a mace which is cool and all but it feels like displaying the God gundam with its beam sabers. Them paws are the main event! And they shine. The claws are bigger than some MG hands I have. And she rocks them so fucking well. 

Also the little helper claw is cute but kind of Forgettable. 

Overall a solid HG. I look forward to its master grade in 7 years!