#who's on first: nonbinary edition

[claraoswalds]

You didn't look at my name, sir. Course I did. It's Henry— what was it? Henry... "Henry Arbinger". That's it. Harbinger. Think of him as my prelude. And now his song is sung.

DOCTOR WHO The Devil's Chord

[heirtocragflame]

Once more with feeling.

I mentioned in a previous post that I was thinking about changing my name and I’ve finally come to a decision on one I like. I’ve been using it for a few weeks with family and friends and I’m happy with it I think. Before I reveal it here though I wanted to play a little game.

I’ll reveal it once the poll is over. For now though I’m interested to see what people think! :3

[i-eated-paint]

I've just realized that one of my ocs keeps getting different characters as his partner every time I redo their story

[unproduciblesmackdown]

maybe i'd have named myself milo without, indirectly, jules feiffer illustrations, but their role can't have hurt

[is-it-malgendering]

Also last post for now since I gotta do stuff today - but I created the Wikipedia page on transandrophobia in 2021 and I (and other editiors) have slowly built up the page into what it is today. By comparison, the page on transmisogyny (which used to have more content on the page than the page on transandrophobia) has less content.

Not that I'm preempting any such accusation, but having been on this website (and involved in the discussion about transandrophobia) for so long - I do worry about someone arguing in bad faith that trans men are privileged somehow for having a more full Wikipedia page on transandrophobia than trans women have for the equivalent page on transmisogyny. But should that happen, you heard it here first - we built the page from scratch and with the collective effort of many trans men and mascs.

I know there's some fantastic trans women in this tag who stick up for their trans brothers and if you have the time or energy to spare, I'd really encourage people to help flesh out the Wikipedia page on transmisogyny more! I've made a few edits myself (and translated the page to another language) but not being a trans woman, I lack the lived experience to do the subject as much justice as it should have.

Idk, maybe it says a lot I'm afraid of a bad faith accusation like the above example - but I've been here since like 2017 and trust me when I say it used to be an expectation your words would be piss on the poor'ed. It still happens to an extent - but it's far less aggressive nowadays. When I started in this tag (well, before it was even a thing and was a disparate collection of tags) it was the heyday of false callout posts and inbox harassment.

If you made it this far, thanks - I'm slowly getting hope that trans men are being listened to and we can fight for our trans sisters, our nonbinary and intersex siblings - and that they will fight for us too.

[virovac]

Chingaderita needs meds (documentation below) due tonight! June 2 Monday, ! (EST)

This is NOT A PALESTINE CAMPAIGN, but a supporter of Palestine campaign

@Chingaderita I summarized your last posts

Need at least $134 for meds (including transfer fee) Monday night (edit, now tonight June 6)

Happy pride month!!

Please help a nonbinary parent with 2 trans kids keep their family fed this June, I need my meds to keep living as many years as possible. I need $130 today or I'll miss my meds. And we need $35 to get to this week's appointment or we won't be able to file for an insulin refill.

Have been without them almost 7 weeks.

$0/$600

PaYPAL KO-FI

(examples of kofi)

"last post for transparency's sake. You can find evidence of the fire, that I've been sick for years and if you go back you can see we live in a house full of mold."

long suffering from storm damage and housefire Family of 9, elderly and kids and rescue cats .diabetic and disabled people

"I miss having my medication, I miss being able to eat anything without pain.

I'm afraid of ending at the hospital and not coming back.

Please, we're going to miss tomorrow's doctor appointment we won't be able to file for a refill of insulin until we can get another appointment.

I've had to walk back home under the rain with no raincoat or umbrella for 3 days in a row. I can't afford new shoes or pants or anything."

Summary of problems family faces , past documentation and some of past boosted campaigns below

a post about mother in law

have been helping boost many other donation campaigns* (see below cut),

Now its our turn to help them!

Documentation

Pictures of mold damage and other problems from earlier post before lost phone in links

first link (link 29) OCTOBER 19TH – second link OCTOBER 21ST

Keep reading

I know it’s hard for everyone but please, keep sharing, anything ANYTHING helps. We’ve been getting a bit of food and paying little by little what we owe at the corner store but the upcoming card payment is $190 and my meds are $130 and then let’s not forget my healthcare renewal. I also bring bad news, we’re starting with water shortages just like last year, we’ve gone from having 4 days of water a week to 1-2 if we’re lucky. Our only toilet is busted and there are 9 people here who use it. My kid still needs attention for a UTI he’s had for a couple of months now. And my partner has 3 ingrown nails and 2 big cuts on his feet he’s kept unattended for weeks. I’d hate to up the goal but we need every help we can get!!

more documentation from 2023. and

Went back on my blog to find proof of the fire where my in-laws lost everything, this other one with pictures and proof that I’ve been sick and struggling to get my medication since��August 2023. Just felt like having things organized and maybe make another blog to keep all proof I can save since we lost a lot of information and pictures/videos when we sold our phones and lost the computer. Not to mention my blog is way older but I have no idea how to enter my archive :3

*They have been helping boost many campaigns, gaza and otherwise (and have asked me to boost these three while their internet is unreliable): 

(5) AHMED’S [campaign] IS VERY FORGOTTEN, PLEASE, KEEP SHARING!!! – @/chingaderita on Tumblr Donate to Trapped Family in Gaza Appeals for Help to Survive, organized by Abdallah Alanqar – @/chingaderita on Tumblr (latest post (18) Donate to Trapped Family in Gaza Appeals for Help to Survive, organized by Abdallah Alanqar – @virovac on Tumblr) (5) €5,688/€25,000 – @/chingaderita on Tumblr

[roonotrue]

Twisted Wonderland - He Hears You Singing (About Him)

General Masterpost

Heartslabyul Edition, Savanaclaw Edition, Octavinelle Edition, Scarabia Edition, Pomefiore Edition, Ignihyde Edition

Prompt: While relaxing, and doing chores around the Ramshackle dorm for your weekend restoration of the barely standing building, your thoughts drift to love songs from your old world. You think of songs that remind you of your closest fellow NRC student and crush, and end up singing one while you work.

Reader: GN reader - They/Them pronouns and they are referred to as 'MC/Prefect' in this one. And let's all just agree that MC is a great singer- cuz some of these songs have mad vocals that I would never dream of trying to sing myself with my incredibly average voice, and I imagine a lot of you are the same.

Included Characters: Diasomnia Edition!

Warnings: None.

Request Rules & Information Here

~~~

Malleus Draconia - "Enchanted" by Taylor Swift (Taylor's Version)

- You were cleaning up the outside of Ramshackle- picking up trash, cleaning windows, etc. You were tempted to try and find a way to clean up the yard, trim the weeds and vines and such- but you know Malleus's favorite thing about Ramshackle was it's... Charming decrepit-ness.

- So, with your thoughts wandering to your very 'jumped right out of a fae fairytale' crush, you start singing to yourself as you clean.

- And surprise surprise, Malleus just so happens to decide to visit. To see Ramshackle. That's all. Just... Admiring the architecture. Totally not hoping you're home and will come talk to him and maybe invite him to 'hangout' like you do with your other friends-

- Anyway- 

- He sees you outside Ramshackle and is instantly smiling to himself, ready to approach you as you clean the windows along the side of the building but then- you start to sing.

- My brothers, sisters, and nonbinary's in Christ, when I tell you, brother was ✨Enchanted✨ Pupils? Heart shaped. Jaw? Dropped. Heart? Racing. Hotel? Trivago.

- Okay, so maybe he handles himself with a little more elegance than that, but trust, it's all happening in his head. On the outside though, he's watching you stunned- so, so very tempted to come sweep you into a dance befitting such an elegant, beautiful song.

- Matching your equally elegant and beautiful voice.

- Child of man, you never fail to surprise him, though this is the first time you've truly taken his breath away.

- He does not wish to interrupt the song, wanting to hear every lyric as it falls from your lips and engrave it into his mind- and yet he knows that this is without question a private moment not meant for his ears.

- ... But perhaps he can listen for a few moments more...

- As he does he can't help but wonder what has inspired you to sing such a song. A fondness for someone here at Night Raven perhaps? If so, who? Now that question- that question sends a jolt of scalding envy searing through his chest so strongly that a green lightning strike goes off in the distance, startling you out of your singing.

- How unfortunate.

- But at least it drew your attention in his direction, and the excited smile that bursts out across your face when you see him is enough to clear up any dark clouds that might have started to form above you both.

- He will easily admit to overhearing your singing, and apologize for not announcing himself if you're embarrassed about it. He will also overflow with praise for your singing and the song choice.

- He'll ask about the song, and if you'd be willing to sing it for him again, now or perhaps some other time. He will also shamelessly and directly ask if you were singing it about someone you might be fond of- and when he does you do note that the sky darkens a bit- so you should maybe answer honestly or find a way to not answer at all.

"Child of man, rest assured you have no need to be shy. I found your voice to be truly entrancing- might I inquire about what inspired you to sing it? Or perhaps who, is more accurate?"

~~~

Lilia Vanrouge - "Cruel Summer" by Taylor Swift

- Oh, this mischievous little shit- Lilia absolutely was paying a visit to Ramshackle to scare the hell out of you and cause some mischief.

- But then- as he was walking along the rafters above you- ready to jump down like a bat out of hell (ha), you did the most fascinating thing and stopped him in his tracks.

- You started singing.

- And oh, how very interesting. You sound absolutely wonderful beastie! You would make an amazing addition to the pop music club!

- He gladly listens as you sing, with a wide smile on his face as he cherishes the sound and the lyrics of the song- quite an interesting one by the way. Upbeat, fun, romantic.

- Now who could have inspired you to sing such a cute song? Oh and the bridge! He has to fight off the chuckle that wants to fall from his lips as his eyes widen at the spontaneously shouted lyrics.

- You two simply have to sing together sometime after this- he wonders how you would sound if he taught you how to sing some heavy metal?

- Mercy on your vocal cords in the near future when he does manage to drag you into this.

- When you finish the song he doesn't hesitate to drop down from the rafters now- promptly scaring the shit out of you- wearing his own devilish grin.

- He's soooo gonna tease you for this, but in that playful way of his that's mixed with complements in order to fluster you as much as possible.

- Truly though, he loved your singing, and will absolutely encourage you to sing the song again- and will teasingly ask if you where encouraged to sing it because of some romantic fondness for someone perhaps?

- Oh don't be embarrassed, he won't tell anyone! Unless it's him of course- oh, calm down, he's just kidding!

- Or is he?

"Khee hee~ look how red you are! There's no need to be so shy beastie, that song was so much fun to hear! And you sounded amazing- care to sing for me again? We could make it a duet if you'd like, Khee hee~"

~~~

Silver Vanrouge - "Hot Tea" by ​​half•alive

- Silver was coming over to Ramshackle to help you clean, and because you offered to help him with the notes he missed in class because he fell asleep- which he brought you and Grim snacks as a thank you for.

- When he gets there, of course he knocks, but you had said he could just come in when you spoke earlier- so when he didn't get an answer he did just that.

- He didn't even fully register that you were singing until he turned into the living room and saw you swaying as you swept around the space, singing softly.

- For a second he was fully convinced that he must have fallen asleep again and was dreaming this, hence why he didn't bother announcing himself- he wanted to hear the rest of the song. Your singing was really pretty and he can't help but smile softly as he watches you happily singing while you work...

- But then you turned around and noticed him and your startled yelp yanked him from his thoughts- and woke him up from starting to nod off leaning against the doorway.

- He then very quickly realizes that you singing was not a dream- and that he had just been very rude and improper in not informing you that he was standing there listening to you- he'll apologize sincerely for his actions explaining that he thought he was dreaming.

- To which he'll pivot into complementing your singing and asking about the song.

- Silver's not an expert on music or anything- just really knowing the lullabies his father would sing to him growing up. That song did sound a bit like a lullaby... It's very calming and pretty like one.

- He won't pry about who or if you're singing about someone, and honestly the thought doesn't even cross his mind that you might be singing about someone until way later that night and it may lead him to texting you while half asleep to ask.

- He hadn't fully been paying attention to the lyrics though, so he'll very politely ask that if you were comfortable with it, would you maybe sing that song again? Please?

"Your singing really was pretty, I thought it just had to be a dream. I'm sorry for intruding on such a private moment... But, if you're okay with it, I would like to hear that song again. I wasn't very focused on the lyrics before..."

~~~

Sebek Zigvolt - "Electric Love" by BORNS

- Let's be honest, if you didn't hear this man banging on the door and shouting to see if you were home- this is kinda on you.

- Sebek wouldn't normally just barge in anywhere- he too was raised to respect the simple fae etiquette of being invited before entering someone else's living space, but this was a matter of utmost importance! He was looking for Lord Malleus!

- And not only were you not answering, but the door to your dorm was unlocked! Do you know how absolutely reckless and unsafe that is human!?

- Stormed in, fully intent on looking for Malleus, and then scolding you for your terrible safety practices!

- But the loud shout died on his lips, his mouth going dry as he turned the corner to the kitchen to see you singing and swaying as you cook.

- Before he knows it his fists are clenched at his sides and his face is turning a pale pink as he processes your singing and the song itself- some kind of upbeat romantic serenade.

- Sebek is the last person at Night Raven college to ever be left speechless at literally anything- and yet every time he opens his mouth to try and announce his presence and his reason for being there, you sing another flawless run in the song and he just- can't.

- He's left gapping awkwardly like a fish as he can't find the right time to interrupt you and at one point it crosses his mind to just leave and pretend he was never there.

- But he's no coward! ... So he just waits for you to finish the song before clearing his throat very loudly- making you jump and turn an equally bright shade of pink seeing him standing int he doorway.

- He quickly (and loudly) explains himself and scolds you for leaving the door unlocked and then dismisses himself.

- And then stands in the doorway still frozen in place for several awkward silent moments.

- And then very quietly- quieter than you've ever heard Sebek- compliments you on your singing before clearing his throat and quickly marching away.

- He totally doesn't spend a full ten minutes outside of Ramshackle trying to compose himself before continuing to look for his Lord.

"H-HUMAN! I APOLOGIZE FOR INTRUDING BUT I AM LOOKING FOR LORD MALLEUS AND HE'S CLEARLY NOT HERE SO I'LL BE GOING NOW!... ... ... A-and your singing was very nice- f-for a human! OKAY GOODBYE!"

~~~

Whoo! Last one for this series y'all! I love the Diasomnia squad, they're my favorites- I'm gonna start another little reaction series and I've a bunch of prompt idea's that I will do all of eventually, but which do you guys wanna see next? Vote below and I'll see ya next post! ~ Roo

[that-hippie-user]

>:3 alright my b*tches and bros and nonbinary-hoes, listen up.

>:( after years of witnessing my town in texas get more and more radicalized, now that i'm out of the closet and that orange fuck has won and is gonna rage war against me and my kin, i'm officially OUT.

UwU thanks to my loving partner and his family, i am leaving the south for good and never looking back.

:D IF THIS POST GETS AT LEAST 1000 NOTES, I WILL:

- get a mohawk and dye it a rainbow of colors

-spend a FULL YEAR re-learning art so i can draw decently again and start making art for my community

- get a tattoo to celebrate my escape (suggestions welcome)

- buy a sewing machine and learn to customize/make my own clothes to FINALLY live up to my fashion dreams

-learn an instrument, and its okay if i dont play it well at first.

and finally

-FINISH MY GODDAMN BOOK, and get it edited and submitted to the public domain.

UwU i leave this hell for good in december 5th, so i guess call that my new years resolution if it works. this doesnt have a deadline, i just wanna START.

-u- oh, and while i'm here, lemme make a statement and ensure the only support i get are REAL based people who i'd gladly befriend and platonically kiss.

I'M AB/DL AND PROUD OF THAT DAMN IT!!!

>:( k1nkshaming is for traitors, and after both FurAffinity AND Patreon have begun banning us wholesale, i'm done hiding this.

THE CRINKLE IN MY PANTS DOESNT MAKE ME ANY LESS HUMAN DAMN IT.

UwU that last bit i wanted to say cuz it funny, heheheh. no way is seymour gonna read THAT out loud.

;3 but if he doessssssssss. :3 hope they doin well, that man is a treasure.

^u^ my friends, my Little siblings out there listening, everyone of you, i wish us all a happier future.

edit: well! :3 at least FurAffinity has finally shown us some decency. Sciggles, i could kiss you! ^u^ there are still good people in this world after all!

[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.”

[zvezdacito]

Diasomnia sexuality (and some gender) headcanons I just wanted to yap about for no reason:

Malleus: Demiromantic Bisexual

-> There's that joke that he doesn't gaf about gender as long as it's Yuu, but (for the demiromantic part) I also like the idea that he's ride-or-die, sentimental and clingy for anyone he gets close to. So generally the only difference for how he cares about people is the type of attraction + specific boundaries (can be slightly possessive in a different way for a romantic interest? Idk)

-> Also not really sexuality but I see his gender as that "I'm probably nonbinary but I have a job so idrc about that rn" tweet but for being the next king In general I think being acespec & nonbinary would be extra perplexing for bro since he never stopped to think about personal identity stuff like that for too long (too duty-pilled🥀)

-> Being dense about regular emotional experiences + actual difference in the norms of attraction and gender add to the gap of understanding between him and others

Lilia: Bisexual (not really a sexuality but he's also polyamorous)

-> This isn't sexuality again but I also think transfeminine Lilia is cool, I genuinely believed that Lilia was just a woman with a really deep voice the first time I saw him (I was watching him vs Leona in Book 2 out of context). There's no way to easily explain this in English but by this the specific identity i see him as is basically 'bakla' in the Philippines. It is really its own gender identity in our culture and isn't a "direct equivalent" of any one anglophone label, but for the sake of non-filipinos i guess you can just understand this to mean i see Lilia as "nonbinary transfem in the Filipino way"👍

-> I think it would align with his story in a good way with how she's maligned by the senate and such, how even as a soldier Lilia was coloring her hair for style. It's also like that thing where a guy who was already considered obviously effeminate and "one of the girls" atp (I see Meleanor as kids playing with Lilia in typically "girly" ways and encouraging his cuteness/hair styling) comes out later on as actually a girl/fem nonbinary

-> General Lilia is this is that type of situation where a transfem person can't really go all out with their expression because current life-threatening circumstances require "masculinity" or their focus to be exclusively on external matters (in this case its Lilia being a lowly bat soldier in an active war. Similar to Malleus, an idea of patriotic obligation stops him from really questioning or exploring since the country needs "strength" and "unity" in these times, there was also just really little time to wonder when you're fighting for your life everyday). But after retiring Lilia is able to realize she likes being perceived as cute and begins going all out in her appearance👍

Lilia edit with the article this headcanon reminds me of:

Silver: Aroace

-> Thought it would be a kind of cool subversion of the usual fairytale prince archetype Silver is made to emulate, where romance is the greatest and purest love and marriage is THE happy end. I think it aligns with Silver wanting to spend his life "repaying" the kindness of Malleus and Lilia; if they asked him to think about gertting a family of his own in the future, I think he'd just say the true love he's found in life is already them. A knight who dedicates his lifetime devotion to familial love instead

Sebek: Gaylm

-> One of bro's most notable character gags is glazing another man at every opportunity so yeah /j. Also fsr I just can't see him as a man romantically with a woman no matter what lol

(THIS ISN'T OBJECTIVE THOUGH this is just how I personally sense his vibes. Go crazy fellow fem yumes and OC artists. You are the pillars of this earth)

⚠️ My only disclaimer is that I am cisgender so the gender headcanons are only me relating the characters to scholarly articles on transfem experiences/from personal accounts of transfem and nonbinary people online and irl.

Another reminder that these are all headcanons made by viewing canon in a specific way, not me saying they're definitively any of these identities. You can still have cis or male malleus and lilia if you prefer that😭

That is all. Thank you for reading👊🔥

[bilesproblems]

The queer community really normalized the words for fluidity and multigenderism but not the experiences at all.

I'm not the first to make this type of post, but I'm gonna go beyond just what the original said (and I'll edit this to include a link when I find the original again on my dash because it usually shows up once a week): we've normalize words like boygirl but most people haven't normalized actually being a boy and a girl, or a man and a woman, at the same time, and for fluidity they don't normalize actually being a boy or man and being a girl or woman at different times. Instead "boygirl" is just used like a label for androgyny or worse neutrality (nothing wrong with being neutral but being a boy and a girl is NOT that). We normalize the words bigender and genderfluid but never recognize them as actually having multiple genders. Bigender people are treated like half and half, and together androgynous or neutral instead of both of their genders at once, and genderfluid people are just seen like nonbinary people who use different pronouns and different times. We normalize the words but we don't normalize being sapphic and achillean, veldian and lesbian, a lesbian man or a veldian woman, straight and lesbian or straight and veldian. The things that are experienced by multigender people. We normalize the words but we don't allow bigender people to identify with anything other than "bigender" and we don't allow genderfluid people to identify with anything other than "genderfluid." If they want to label their orientations their options are mspec, trixic, toric, and enbian, and anything else is wrong. They're never allowed to say they're straight, and if they are allowed to be veldian/achillean or lesbian/sapphic (and they only get to pick one), they must degender themselves and pretend they don't experience womanhood or manhood.

Similarly, we normalize the word abrosexual but many don't allow abrosexuals to identify as anything but abro. They're not allowed to identify as any of the orientations they experience, even with some regularity. They might be allowed an mspec term - but they're never allowed to say they're veldians, or lesbians, and god forbid they identify as both. Even when they're experiencing being one of those things, it's not "allowed" for them to use the terms because the community deemed fluidity as not *really* the things they experienced because it's not permanent.

If we are gonna normalize the labels of multigender, genderfluid, and abrosexual can we actually get it in our heads that some people are multiple full genders at once, and if they're a man, a woman, and nonbinary, they are AS MUCH of a man as any monogender man, AS MUCH of a woman as any monogender woman, and JUST AS NONBINARY as any monogender enby? Can we get it though our heads that some people experience multiple full genders at different times, and they are AS MUCH of a man as any statically gendered man when they experience manhood, AS MUCH of a woman as any statically gendered woman when they experience womanhood, and JUST AS NONBINARY as any statically gendered enby when they experience enbanhood? Can we get it through our heads that some people experience multiple orientations at different times, and they are AS MUCH of a lesbian when they experience lesbianism, AS MUCH of a veldian when they experience veldianism, JUST AS STRAIGHT as any other straight person when they feel themselves straight, and JUST AS MSPEC when they experience attraction to multiple genders?

(there's also people who experience multiple orientations at once, statically, but we haven't even been normalized yet so. Yeah.)

[mlmshipbracket]

MLM Ship Tournament: Classics Editions

I want to start by giving my thanks to all those who have participated in the previous MLM ship brackets hosted on this blog. I never would have continued without your support. Secondly, I want to thank @rooksacrifice for this next tournament idea, which I hope many of you MLM shippers will enjoy.

Welcome to the next MLM Ship Tournament, Classics Edition!

This tournament will involve MLM ships from mythology, folklore, and history.

You'll find the submission form for voting below, please read through the entirety of information and rules before you do.

INFORMATION:

Submissions must be made through the form linked below

Multiple submissions are allowed per person, but only submit an MLM ship once

Ships will be added on a first come first serve, with 32 slots open as of right now.

You have two weeks to submit your ships, with more or less time depending on when slots are filled

If you have any questions please use the ask on the 'mlmshipbracket' tumblr

Male (cis or trans) or masc presenting nonbinary /genderfluid ships are allowed. 

RULES:

Ships must be from mythology, folklore, and/or history

For historical ships, as these are real people, both individuals in the submitted ship must have passed on a minimum of 20 years prior.

Groups/Bands must not be active when submitting members, both individuals in the submitted ship must have passed on a minimum of 20 years prior.

Ships may not be from any major world religion (see here)

Ships can be canon or fanon

Ships must be male (cis or trans) or masc nonbinary /genderfluid 

Ships for this poll are couples only

No original characters (OC’s)

No current real figures such as celebrities', youtubers, or streamers

Note: Any ships submitted which do not fit the above mentioned criteria will be disqualified from participation in the bracket

[redgoldsparks]

I went all out for Hourly Comics Day 2025! These took between 6-7 hours to draw across three days, and then another at least hour to scan and edit which I wasn't in the mood to do which is why they are a week late lol. Had a wonderful time at Lumacon though and I'm glad I was able to document it! Transcript below the cut :)

insta / patreon / portfolio / etsy / my books / print store / bluesky

Page 1

7:50am: Alarm goes off

Morning phone: check eSIMs, insta, discord, Spanish vocab 

El tiene pelo largo 

Jonathan Van Ness, is that you…?

Drops App 

8am: My friends gave me a delicious new black tea that’s very easy to over steep 

3 minutes seemed too long, but 2:30 was a bit weak… I’ll try 2:45… 

Honestly, I prefer a tea where I can leave the bag in the whole time I drink the cup… 

For the first time in many years I’m actually doing something cool on hourly comics day! Today is Lumacon! This is the show’s 11th year- I think I’ve only missed 1. For the first time, it’s raining on con day!

Page 2

I’m so glad we had another avocado!

This bagel was so chunky I cut it into perfect thirds. Perfection

It’s so rare that I’m awake before my parents… SIP

Should I write about Larrupin sauce? My friend Alina buys this for me up in Humboldt since it’s hard to find… 

Every object/moment suggests a story when I’m paying attention! 

8 to 9am

Page 3 

Pick up Martina! Very cute raincoat (@martinamonster-art )

Chatting and Ateez on the drive 9 to 9:30

OMG why am I drawing cars :( 

LUMACON! 10-11AM 

My newest zine is a recruitment zine for Authors Against Book Bans (AABB). 

I zero in on folks I know to be authors–

Maia: I want you– 

Author: Me? 

Maia: To join AABB! (info zine)

Author: Oh thanks! I will! 

Maia: This zine is so fun to hand out!

Page 4 

Teen: Thank you so much for writing Gender Queen. I gave it to my mom and she credits it for a lot of her understanding. I came out as gender queer a year ago and she said “I love you.” I don’t know if that would have been possible without the book! 

Maia: Thank you for saying that! 

Different teen: I want to buy a copy of your book but I need to make more sales first. 

Maia: Where’s your table? 

Teen: Behind you 

Look. 

I spot some of the cutest round crochet bois I’ve ever seen including a nonbinary bee

Maia: Can I please trade you a book for that bee?! 

Teen: OMG yes! 

You know it’s a good trade when both parties think they got the better deal! 

12pm 

Page 5

I check in with Anna (@thebeanbaguette) 1pm 

Maia: How’s the con so far? 

Anna: Really good! I love how many furries are here! 

Maia: Oh yeah it’s fun

Maia: I had never seen the skull fursuit head before this show… for the size event it’s impressive furry turn out 

Cute goth/pastel couple 

Anna: To be honest, I’d love to get a fursuit head one day… and the hands! 

Anna: But I don’t know what animal…

(Table is covered in cute rats)

Later, another friend comments 

Cynthia: So many furries here! 

Maia: Yes, the per capita is very high… sign of a healthy ecosystem! 

(we all wore masks all day I just forgot to draw them) 

Page 6 

My friend Nic comes to visit & cover my table during my lunch break- 2pm

Nic: Don’t worry I’ll do my best impersonation of you! I’ll even sign books with your name!

Maia: Okay, great, thanks!

Maia: (Has not had water, snack or bathroom break in 6 hours)

Later we chat with Gio, another friend about knowing when a story is done

Maia: I had a publisher reject a pitch basically saying “this isn’t fully baked yet” which… was true. 

Nic: Unfortunately I’m doing that to myself! I’m on the 4th draft of this short story that just needs to be done. 

Gio: But when it’s a personal project how do you know? 

Gio: When it’s my own work, no deadline, no editor, it’s tempting to just keep putting it back in the oven. But at what point are you like, I’m making crackers. I thought it was bread but it turned into crackers! 

Page 7

3-4pm last hour of the con

My parents came! My Taekwondo teacher came! A trans teen who came to my first Gender Queer event in 2019 came! I saw so many friends & my heart is full! Thank you Luma! 

4:30

Maia: I think I’m ready to go…

Table: EMPTY

Martina: Me too! 

Maia & Martina: LOOK 

Anna- nothing packed, stuff fully out

Anna: Haha, you go! I pack slowly! 

In the parking lot & rain 

Maia: I’m really glad you came! 

Martina: Thanks for talking me into it! 

Martina: You’ve been manifesting this since September! 

Maia: Haha yes, 

(I talked both Martina & Anna into applying for this show; Martina’s first zinefest table! 

Page 8

5pm I drive home 

after all the rain, the ditches & fields are flooded 

Maia (texting): I just got home

Anna (texting): I haven’t left the venue yet

Page 9

6pm I should be unpacking but I’m lying in bed looking at my phone! 

Maia: Wow so many hourlies! I haven’t even started! I’d rather read them on tumblr & patreon later. How is my finch doing? 

Nic incepted our entire friend group into the finch app back in January. I’m pretty hooked. In the finch app you make a little bird persona who travels the world & gains experiences. You give it energy & earn points by crossing items off your to do list & completing self care tasks like stretching or drinking water. 

Maia: To be honest, I don’t really need an app to help me do tasks. But look how cute my bird is!!! Also! You can get pets for your bird! I have five! Owl, seal, caribou, ball of fluff, cow

Later, I pet my real cat. 

Maia: Don’t worry you are my actual favorite pet. 

Page 10 

7pm: Dinner with my parents. Big salad, fried tofu. We talk about clay deposits in odd places. 

My dad: There’s that Bentonite clay at Shell Beach! That’s the kind you want for poison oak rashes. 

My mom: And the deposit at school by the office, some teachers have kids use that for crafts. 

8pm: Formatting my January book reviews

I really like the monthly wrap-ups that Storygraph generates. 

Books: 11 Pages: 2855 Average Rating: 3.91

LGBTQIA: 5 Fantasy: 4 Comic: 4 Contemporary: 3 Romance: 3

9pm: I fall into the trap of looking at the news which I’ve avoided all day. Escape to tumblr where I discover some amazing Ranma ½ fanart. Should I reread it? 

10-12am: I draw the first 4 pages of these comics then go to bed! 

In total, drawing these takes 6 or 7 hours across 3 days. -Maia Kobabe 2025 

[teslasucks37]

CW: NSFW under the cut (MDNI), afab!reader (Nonbinary fem af), Oral (reader receiving), Smoking (Weed), Dom!Charlie, Sex Tape?

A/N: 6.5k words end me now I didn’t mean for it to be so long 😭😭😭 Geez this is really crazy and I know I mentioned this in the first one but I’m gonna mention it here too cause this is the fic that started my obsession with Charlie and it’s so cathartic to see it finally finished. I of course have some other fics that I want to finish and like 20 requests that are included in those fics but then I’m probably gonna get back into Star Wars cause I’m a super mega nerd so if u guys are interested in any Star Wars content (specifically a Din Djarin x OC fic lmk 🤭) ANYWAY ENJOY CHARLIE SMUT

Charlie Slimecicle x Reader

Do You Wanna Touch Me (Oh Yeah) 2/2

—————————————————————————

Charlie 💚

Dan

Sorry for leaving so early I need to stream this afternoon <3

Char

It's fine dw

—————————————————————————

They stared at the message a week after sending it, biting the nail on their thumb absentmindedly. Danny had sent similar messages to Ranboo and Moonzy, but this one bothered them. It had been their only message since.

God, it sounded so cringey out loud, but they missed him. His smile, his humor, his presence.

They rewatched photos and videos of that night, even the karaoke one that Ranboo recorded where they were practically eye fucking Charlie, as if they couldn't be any more obvious.

Danny swore somewhere in their drunken stupor they heard him say something that made their heart race. But maybe that was just a dream. Or wishful thinking.

What if he hated them? What if he despised them for not saying goodbye? What if he never wanted to talk to them ever again?

They weren't sure if they could handle that.

Maybe they should have texted back, or double texted to show they cared. Or maybe that would have been weird.

Danny sat at their chair in their office, the one they would use so often for streaming, just trying to edit a video. But they kept coming back to that damn message. Rereading the message felt like punching themselves in the face over and over again. Nearly every day like clockwork, they stared at it, before closing it, then looking at it again a few hours later. They wanted to say something else, anything else, but every day that passed made it more and more weird to say anything at all.

It was so frustrating, feeling so incapable of just talking to a guy. Danny wasn't usually like this. They'd never felt like this with someone. Sure, they'd had plenty of partners, romantic and other, due to the nature of their jobs. But none of them had felt like this.

Not like Charlie.

—————————————————————————

Charlie 💚

Dan

Sorry for leaving so early I need to stream this afternoon <3

Char

It's fine dw

Dan

Would u maybe wanna do a stream together?

—————————————————————————

So they just sent something.

Anything.

"Damnit." They ran a hand through their hair, tossing their phone onto their desk and standing, before a buzzing came from it and they practically leaped for it.

—————————————————————————

Charlie 💚

Dan

Would u maybe wanna do a stream together?

Char

When do you want me?

Dan

All the time

*anytime

Whenever works best for you!

—————————————————————————

Danny slapped a palm onto their head in embarrassment at their Freudian slip. They hadn't expected him to respond so quickly, maybe giving them more of a chance to figure out what to say.

—————————————————————————

Charlie 💚

Dan

All the time

*anytime

Whenever works best for you!

Char

I'm not busy this weekend

Does Fri-Sun work?

—————————————————————————

They pressed a heart into the message, reacting calmly and breathing out in relief.

That was however, before Danny slammed their phone onto their desk and squealed into their hands. "Fuck!"

They couldn't believe that had just happened.

Charlie was coming over.

To their apartment.

For a whole weekend?

Or did he just want to be there one of the days?

Who knew?

They would figure it out later.

By the time Friday rolled around, Danny had cleaned their entire apartment twice. They made sure nothing inappropriate was lying around. If Charlie was to wittiness what they did other than streaming, he probably would pass out.

That was if he didn't already know.

The thought made their core tighten. The idea of him being one of the viewers of your special premium content, watching them like that, it made them dizzy.

They fretted over their outfit for what seemed like hours. They felt like they absolutely had to look nice for him. Sifting through nearly their whole closet, Danny pulled out a purple tank top and a short blue dress.

The tank top might be too casual.

But this wasn't a date. Right?

No. It wasn't. It was a stream.

That could be misconstrued as a date.

"Ugh!" Danny threw both articles on the floor in frustration.

They couldn't even pick out the right underwear.

Should they wear something simple, causal, or a little more?

It's not like it mattered. He wouldn't see it. But then again... What if he did? What if something happened and they weren't prepared. Danny didn't think he would care, but it was the thought that counted.

They shook the idea from their mind, walking to pick up the clothes they'd tossed, before a box in the closet caught their eye.

Sighing, they picked up the lid and stared at what they'd bought a few days ago, hoping to wear it in an exclusive video or something.

A pale green set of lingerie.

A simple set with threaded decals to cover semi-transparent tulle, with thin adjustable straps on the hips and shoulders.

It was a complete coincidence that they'd bought it the day after they'd met Charlie. And it was a complete coincidence that it was his favorite shade of green, which they'd learned during the pregame.

Danny stared at it, deciding they might as well wear it, just to make sure it fit for later.

No other reason.

They grabbed the short blue dress from the floor, throwing the tank top back into the closet.

But it wasn't a date.

It was just a stream.

It was around noon when they received a message.

—————————————————————————

Charlie 💚

Char

Where do you want me to park?

Dan

You can just park on the side of the road

If you want

:D

Char

Okay

:)

—————————————————————————

Danny grinned at his emoticon, rushing to their door and waiting for a knock.

When it came, they had to fight themselves to slowly open it like a normal person, like someone who was completely chill.

Because they were completely chill.

Danny's eyes trailed up his body, black converse, jeans, a nerdy shirt, definitely Charlie.

His face lit up as they locked eyes.

"Hey, Char!" Danny grinned casually, opening the door for him.

He went stiff at the nickname, his attraction flooding back like a fucking tsunami. "Hi..."

They looked so gorgeous, a tiny blue dress hugging their body perfectly.

"Would you be willing to help me set up before we start?"

"Yeah, of course." He said instantly, barely letting them finish. Charlie stepped inside and let Danny lead him to their office, grabbing their laptop and walking back out into the kitchen.

Charlie grabbed the tripod with a camera attached to it and a microphone stand, following them through the hallway. "Have you ever... Moved this much stuff out before?" He asked, just trying to make small talk but stumbling on his words slightly.

"I've set up cameras in here before, just not live ones." They shrugged, placing their laptop on the counter. "It usually doesn't require this much equipment."

Charlie's brain took a moment to read between the lines. They'd recorded in the kitchen, but not streamed. "Oh." He glanced around the kitchen, then glanced at the equipment in his hands, wondering which had been used for what recordings.

He had to stop himself from thinking about that.

"And uh... What exactly are we doing in the kitchen?" Charlie asked, setting down the tripod and microphone, before kneeling to connect them to the laptop.

"I thought we could bake some cupcakes." Danny said with a smile, turning and opening the pantry.

"Oh, this is my expertise."

"Really?" They grinned, taking out some ingredients and closing it with their hip.

He leaned over the laptop, tweaking and testing a few sound and video settings. "Yeah, my mom owns a bakery."

Danny paused, placing the ingredients on the counter and turning to him. "I didn't know that..."

They didn't know a lot of things about him.

"Well..." Charlie grinned as he stood off the floor. "Now you do..."

They smiled in return, turning away so he wouldn't see the blush forming on their face at his soft tone. "Can you um... Get stuff from the fridge while I set the stream timer? It's everything on the bottom shelf."

Charlie walked past them, glancing at the boxed cake mix, tsking in disapproval.

Danny rolled their eyes playfully, reaching over to the laptop and starting the stream on the countdown page at 5 minutes, before pulling their phone out and announcing the stream on their socials. "If I had known I would be in the presence of a baking purist I would have had you make it all on your own from scratch."

Charlie chuckled, pulling out eggs and other ingredients from the fridge. "I think I would prefer your help."

"Then you'd better stop complaining." They glanced at him over their shoulder with a grin.

"As you wish." He proclaimed dramatically, placing everything in his arms onto the counter gently.

They checked that everything looked okay, that the camera and microphone were still off. But then they remembered something that probably should have been clarified before he'd gotten there. No better time to bring it up than when they were waiting, they supposed.

Danny crossed a few feet to stand next to Charlie, letting the teasing bit fade from their voice. "Would you maybe wanna... Stay the night?"

Charlie practically choked on his own tongue. "What?"

They knew it was a long shot, but they didn't want him to go so soon. "I thought maybe we could smoke or something later." Danny scrambled to get out, to cover up their unintentionally placed innuendo. "And you probably shouldn't drive home if you're high."

Charlie cleared his throat, thinking it over and locking eyes with them. "Only if it's... Okay with you."

God, why did he have to look at them with those fucking eyes? Those beautiful blue puppy dog eyes.

He bit his lip nervously, waiting for their response, but he didn't receive one.

They were a little busy staring at the lips he was pulling at with his teeth. Danny wanted to pull his lip with their teeth.

God, he was so fucking attractive. He was almost magnetic, even without being inebriated. Danny thought for a moment that they were just being stupid and drunk and would throw themselves at any person that was as attractive as him while they were fucked up.

But that was just an excuse. An excuse to ignore everything they'd been feeling for him. Every muscle, every tendon, every bone in their body was urging Danny to kiss him, yet holding them back at the same time.

He was so funny and kind and cute...

They just had to.

They couldn't not...

"Is it? Okay if I stay ov- Mmph!"

Before he could finish, Danny put a hand on his shoulder and stood up on their tippy toes, connecting their lips.

Charlie felt his entire mind go blank, his synapses fizzling and popping like a chemical reaction.

His hands twitched, not quite sure what to do. Should he touch them? Should he grab their face? He mentally kicked himself. He'd gotten his lips on one of the most beautiful people he'd ever seen in the whole world and he doesn't even know what to do with them. He hadn't thought this far ahead.

So he pulled them to his body, wrapping an arm around their waist gently.

Charlie's lips pressed harder again them, taking in everything about them. Their smell, their taste, their entire being in his arms.

Danny's fingers curled tightly into his biceps, shuddering delightfully at the rippling and flexing muscles they could feel in their closeness. "Charlie~" They mumbled against his lips.

He pulled away immediately, eyes wide and half expecting them to tell him to stop. So he simply waited, suddenly unsure about everything he'd just done.

Danny just stared at him, processing everything. Charlie had kissed them back, actually kissed them. A real, fervent, intoxicating kiss. A soft smile spread across their face.

"Was that... Okay?" Charlie mumbled hesitantly, his face stiff and eyes still wide, locked onto theirs in search of any kind of non-verbal signs of discomfort, despite their smile.

Danny nodded and dove back into the kiss, cupping the sides of his face to mumble into his lips. "I want you to touch me~"

The moment turned hot and desperate, Charlie grabbing and gripping their waist as if he couldn't bare to be any farther from them. His arms pulled them impossibly closer, pressing his body against theirs.

He was on cloud fucking 9.

Their lips on his felt like how the sunshine warmed your face after a long week of rain.

And he needed more.

Charlie's lips dragged away from theirs to trace their jaw, relishing in the sighs falling from their mouth.

Their skin tasted like a gasp of air after being underwater for just a little too long.

Danny's fingers threaded through the hairs at the nape of his neck with electrifying euphoria.

Their eyes fluttered as the edges of Charlie's teeth nipped against the side of their neck. He kissed and licked and sucked, definitely leaving light marks on their skin.

The tips of his fingers traced across the hem of their dress, the bareness of their thighs becoming even more apparent to him in his hazy stupor.

"Char..." Danny whispered against his ear, the man pressed against them shivering at the nickname. "The timer..."

Charlie disconnected from the kiss, glancing at the countdown that read less than two minutes.

They had to start. It would look suspicious if they didn’t.

He sighed, turning back to them and swiping his thumb over their bottom lip to rid it of any saliva or smeared lipstick, before doing the same to his own.

The motion made Danny smirk, before they clicked the unmute button on their laptop.

"Hi, stream! Hi, Chat!" They called out to the microphone set up in the corner, leaning over the counter to attend to the last few visual settings. "Can everyone hear me okay?"

Glancing at the chat, Danny grinned at the affirmatives they were receiving. "That's good. We're doing a different setup for today so I wanted to make sure it-" They let out a light gasp as something brushed against them, pushing them further into the cabinets as a pair of arms latched to the edge of the counter, trapping them on both sides.

Charlie stood behind them, mouthing a kiss to the marks he'd left on their shoulder.

Something prodded between the curves of their ass, stiff and large, making Danny shiver.

Oh god, he was hard...

Had just kissing them really made him that hard? Turned him on that much? Made him want them that bad?

And they wanted him too.

They really wanted him...

Thank god the camera was still off.

Danny took a deep breath, clearing their throat and continuing to talk. "I want to make sure everything's working. Because I also have a very special guest for you guys..." They smirked, rolling their ass back against the hips of the man pinning them.

Charlie snickered, pressing a final kiss to their neck, before releasing his grip and taking a more TOS-appropriate place to the right of them.

"Are you all ready?" Danny grinned largely, encouraging the chat's excitement. They turned the camera on, stepping back from the computer and ushering to Charlie. "It's Slimecicle! The dude I was thirsting over live on stream that one time!"

That joke cracks Charlie, making him burst out laughing. "That is gonna haunt you forever, isn't it..."

"Yes it will!" They smiled painfully, before turning to him. "We are gonna be baking some cupcakes today..." Grabbing the box in the counter, they showed it to the camera. "Vanilla, of course, cause this is the site we're normal on."

The dirty joke made Charlie's face scrunch up in an attempt to hide a smile.

They were bolder on stream, much more comfortable than in person, which he could now easily distinguish between.

Danny began to open the box, taking out the cake mix and tossing the box onto the counter. They pulled over a plastic mixing bowl, dumping the mix inside the bag in.

An automated voice read out a donation from their laptop. "Should we be expecting a new post on patreon anytime soon?"

Danny's face reddened, grinning and glancing at Charlie, who was reading the back of the box and preheating the oven.

They'd both been streaming long enough to know when to read between the lines.

The chat was really asking if Charlie's presence would be a catalyst for a new patreon video.

A naughty video.

"Alright guys, let's try to keep it at least a little PG for the delicately disposed." They motioned to Charlie, who looked around in shock.

"I do not have a delicate disposition!" He proclaimed, slamming the empty box onto the counter.

"Sure, buddy." They smiled and ushered him to simply stop talking, knowing any comments would put him further in a hole. Danny cracked three eggs into the bowl, before Charlie reached over them to crack one more. "Doesn't the box only say three?"

"Yeah, but it'll taste better if you add one more." Charlie watched the yolk slide out of the shell, holding it over the bowl as the last of it dripped out.

He was so close to them, Danny could feel the heat radiating from his body, his right arm reaching across the counter to reach the bowl. His hip was pressed against their ass, making their breaths feel shallower and deeper at the same time.

Their faces were just inches apart, probably a very compromising look from the camera's perspective.

Danny wanted to kiss him again, feel his lips on their neck and his hands on their body.

Charlie felt the same way, barely able to stop himself from grinding against them.

As he practically wrenched himself away to grab the oil, Danny stumbled for a joke. "What other baking wisdom shall you impose upon us this day, M'lord?" They asked him in a pompous voice, earning a bashful smile from him.

Charlie's grin overtook his face like the clouds parting to reveal the sun. "Oh, I've got a lot of these, don't worry."

Danny couldn't stop themselves from smiling back, grabbing the wooden mixing spoon and getting to work on stirring what was already in the bowl.

"Slimecicle oiled up???" The donations read aloud.

"Guys!" Danny sputtered, chastising the chat. "Be kind to him!"

"It's okay this is basically all my stream says too." Charlie chuckled, grabbing and measuring out the oil into a measuring cup before pouring it into the bowl. "It is better to use melted butter instead of oil for cakes, but that's a lot of work and I don't wanna do that right now."

They chuckled, before shivering as a hand brushed the small of their back. Charlie's hand.

He stood next to them, talking away to the stream. His fingers traced down the seam of their dress, gliding over and cupping their ass absentmindedly.

Danny clenched their things together at Charlie's touch, his hand just out of view from the camera.

Fuck, they were so turned on.

They just wanted the stream to be over already.

Even though they'd barely been live for 15 minutes.

Remembering how soft his touch had been while they were drunk, compared to how rough he was being with them earlier, and then how gentle and slow he was now, it made their head spin.

Charlie was in total control of himself, of his body, but that control was slipping right in front of their eyes.

As was their own.

"Do you have any milk?" Charlie's voice snapped them out of their stupor. "It'll taste better than water."

Danny glanced at him, nodding and motioning to the fridge. It wasn't until his hand left their ass that they realized how tight they were gripping the spoon.

Jesus Christ, they needed him.

Clearing their throat, they continued to stir while Charlie measured out the milk and poured it into the bowl.

Danny was preparing the pan and pouring the contents of the bowl in as the oven beeped, indicating it was done preheating.

Charlie took the pan from them with a grin, not wanting to make them get anywhere near the oven in case they burned themselves.

And the entire rest of the stream was waiting, 30 minutes of making the smallest little jokes to each other, followed by the smallest little touches.

Which didn't help the situation between Danny's legs. Their wetness had bypassed their panties a while ago, so much so that when their thighs separated the stickiness was almost audibly.

Charlie definitely heard it, considering the way he glanced down at them so often with his bottom lip being chewed up by his teeth.

They felt watched, by stream and by him. And it definitely wasn't a turn off.

When the timer went off, Charlie was racing for the oven mitts, an act of chivalry in his own way, Danny supposed.

As they waited for the cake to cool, they prepared the icing, two tubs of vanilla frosting and green food coloring.

"Just for you!" Danny chirped with a grin, making his heart flutter.

The two of them scooped out the icing into a bigger bowl, dropping some food coloring and stirring it until it was mixed.

"I think that's a pretty good color." Their finger dipped into the icing, before swiping at Charlie's face, smearing a dollop on the tip of his nose. Danny snorted, covering their mouth to conceal their laugh as he just stared, a comical frown etched on his face. "What do you think, chat? Is it a good color on him?"

The chat lit up with laughter, saying he was lore-accurate now with green goo on his face.

Charlie was looking at the way Danny's face lit up more than anything else.

He wanted to kiss them, kiss them until they were breathless, kiss them until neither of them could think any more.

But while the cameras were on, he had to remain pious.

His jaw dropped in feign offense, the shocked look earning him another laugh from Danny. "I can't believe you're basking in my misery."

They covered their mouth, turning away from him in an attempt to stop laughing.

Charlie wiped the frosting off his nose, bringing it to his mouth. "At least it tastes good." He grabbed the bowl from in front of Danny, pressing a hand to the cake to check if it was cooled yet. Scooping his finger into the bowl, he brought some of the icing to their face in an attempt to get them back.

But before he could react, their lips wrapped around his digit, sending another shiver of desire down his spine. They glanced up at him through their lashes, dragging their mouth off to taste the sugar. "It does taste good." They nodded with a sly grin, completely aware of what they'd done, before turning back to the cake to help frost it.

Charlie stood there for a moment, his hand limp in the air as he replayed the image of their eyes looking up at him, their lips wrapped around him... Imagining what they would look like wrapped around something else.

"Are you gonna help me or are you gonna keep plotting your revenge?" Danny quipped, glancing over their shoulder for just a moment before returning to the cake.

He chuckled, hoping a joke would hide his flustered state. "My revenge will be impossible to spot, completely invisible to the naked eye..." His voice deepened to make himself sound more evil as he grabbed the other spatula to help them frost.

"Uh huh." They just grinned at his shenanigans.

Once they'd finally finished frosting the cake, Danny held it up to the camera, careful to not let it tip or slide before placing it back onto the counter. "Okay, chat! Well, that was fun." They glanced at Charlie, plugging his channels and social medias for him, before starting the process of ending the stream.

He wasn't listening to anything they were saying. He was so focused on finally getting to touch them again. Charlie could feel his hands shaking, tapping incessantly on the counter to hold himself back. He waited so so patiently, just until that blinking red light on the camera turned off.

Then Charlie's lips were on them in a second, Danny didn't even have time to close the recording program.

It was faster than the previous kiss, hungry, desperate, so desperate.

Their hands bunched in his shirt, holding him close and moaning into his mouth as his hands explored their skin.

Charlie's hands smoothed down the expanse of their thighs, before dragging back up under the fabric of their dress and squeezing their ass.

Danny let out a squeak, which made him grin. He picked them up effortlessly, hooking his hands under their thighs and placing them on the counter in front of them.

The action shook Danny. Sure, he looked buff, but they had no idea he was that strong.

Being tossed around by him made them even wetter, if that was even possible.

His hands lifted up the material of the skirt, showing off their lingerie. They let out a gasp as he leaned down to run his tongue along the skin above the thong.

Charlie ginned, his teeth baring animalistically at the sight. "This for me?" He asked, mouthing kisses along the fabric of their underwear, slipping his fingers underneath the straps holding it to their hips. The skin beneath them was smooth and so warm.

Danny whined at his touch, gripping the counter and nodding. They thanked god that the incredibly far-out decision they'd made had actually paid off.

He breathed out a single chuckle, pressing kisses to the bare skin right above the fabric.

"I don't usually do this so fast, you know... Even though I'm pretty... Open online..." They trailed off, suddenly becoming shy.

Charlie looked up from their waistband, his fingers practically twitching in place on their hips. He knew what they meant.

They didn't want him to think they were easy, or a slut, just because of a job they did. And maybe if he was someone else, he might. But Charlie didn't care about things like that. He didn't think people were less because of what they chose to do with their own bodies.

So he simply grinned and mumbled along their skin. "Then I'm the luckiest guy in the fucking world."

Danny's held back a whimper at his words, watching him slowly pull their panties to the side, revealing to him their dripping heat. The sticky residue stretching from the fabric and breaking to join the rest of the wetness between their thighs.

Charlie's pupils dilated at the view in front of him. The small amount of hair stippled on their pelvis matched Danny's strawberry blonde locks, something he had been curious of before if it was dyed, but now, seeing them in all their glory, he knew the truth.

Their bare cunt on display for him made a fleeting thought cross his mind of all the people who had gotten to see it before. But Charlie grinned to himself as he realized that none of them got to do what he was getting to. Touch it, taste it, be inside it.

He couldn't help but bury his face between their thighs, his tongue flat against their folds as he lapped a stripe up the center. His thumb rubbed circled into their squirming inner thighs, tracing the freckles peppered across the skin as his tongue worked Danny's clit.

Their back arched, a moan falling out of their throat as Charlie hummed, vibrating their pussy lightly.

Holy shit he was good at this. He was meant to live between someone's legs, pleasuring them endlessly. And god knew he had the stamina for it, too.

"Haaah~" Danny's hands threaded in his hair, tugging lightly as he glanced up at them to watch their reactions. Their eyes rolled back and their jaw went slack, and he couldn't help from dipping the tip of his tongue into their entrance.

Their reactions had his cock jumping up in his jeans, desperate to be freed. He brought his hands down to undo his belt and fly, keeping eye contact with Danny as he did so, whenever they happened to look down at him. The multitasking of his tongue pleasuring them with his hands busy was so fucking hot.

Their hips jerked into Charlie's face involuntarily, making him moan into their lips again as his jeans and boxers slid down his hips and onto the floor. He stood, pulling the middle Danny's panties to the side again, admiring the wet and sloppy pussy before him.

Charlie pressed his tip against their entrance, before drawing back slightly, seeing them connected by a string of slick leaking from their entrance. "Fuck..."

Danny let out a sound at the mere sight of it, something mixed with a sigh of relief and a moan of anticipation. They pulled him closer by his shoulders, a pleading look in their eyes. "Char~"

The damn nickname, he couldn't resist it when it came to them.

He knew what they wanted and he was in no mood to withhold it from them.

His tip notched on their entrance and slid inside slowly, before he bottomed out entirely.

He faltered, his head falling forward as he let out a shuddered breath. Charlie could literally feel their quickening heartbeat around his cock, pulsing in time with his own. His hands repositioned from their hip to their waist in a desperate attempt to ground himself.

"Please- Ahh~" Danny’s begging was cut off by a slow thrust.

His chest was heaving shakily as he rocked in and out. "Oh fuck, you feel so good~" Charlie panted breathlessly above them.

His hips pushed against their skin, sliding into their pussy with a control that he didn't quite anticipate.

It seemed to fit just right inside of them, hitting every spot so perfectly. God, Danny felt like they could cum on this cock over and over again and never get tired of it.

Charlie found himself looking at Danny's laptop, the camera still pointed at them even though the stream was off. The laptop showed a different angle that set his brain on fire.

So much so he found himself mumbling words to them that he hadn't fully thought through. "Could you... Record us?"

Danny felt their brain fizzle out. "Y- Yeah. I would... Need to move the camera..."

He took a moment to fully comprehend what they were saying, before slowly pulling out of them.

Danny got off the counter on shaky legs, moving the camera off the tripod to a different position on the counter.

He walked up behind them, Charlie's fingers clasping the zipper of their dress, dragging it down until it was loose enough that it slipped off their body. From the way it tightly hugged their tits, he was surprised it came off that easily. "It looks so fucking good on you, but it's done its job." He groaned out, tugging his shirt off in a hurry, like he couldn't let anything get in the way of his view of them.

Danny's core throbbed at his praise, turning on the camera and leading him to press them against the counter. They made sure nothing else was visible but their abdomens and below. Spreading their legs for him, they smiled, watching him pull their panties to the side once again, hooking them over the curve of their ass to keep them in place.

The thickness of his cock slid along their folds, making them moan impatiently and slide back onto the tip, taking him completely inside.

Charlie pressed them back into the counter, bending them over it slightly as he shuddered.

His hips suddenly began rocking against their ass faster than before, fucking himself into their tight walls.

Charlie struggled to keep his groans contained.

He shouldn't talk.

If they did decide to post this it would be really bad if someone figured out it was him.

As if anyone would be able to hear him anyway over the loud groans Danny was letting spew out of their mouth at his movements.

But the idea of someone finding out that it was him. His cock being leaked on the internet, where his cock was right now being leaked on the internet. His fans knowing that he'd gotten to fuck this beautiful creature before any of their subscribers.

The feeling sent a shiver down his spine and an orgasm shooting into Danny's pussy. "Sorry..." He mumbled frantically in their ear, trying his hardest not to let the camera pick it up.

"It's okay~" They mumbled back. "You can cum in me. Don't worry~"

Charlie felt himself get hard again almost instantly, their words filling him with relief and even more hunger.

While still recovering from his orgasm, he sped up inside them, letting out a sloppy groan, before covering his mouth and pulling himself together.

The noises they were making in response made him rock solid again in record time.

He didn't fucking care that he had just came. He would pound them until he was shooting blanks. Until his legs were so sore he couldn't walk. Until Danny couldn't walk.

Fuck, he'd wanted this for so long.

Wanted to be inside them making them feel good.

And they wanted the exact same thing.

Danny couldn't form words, because if they did, it would just be Charlie's name, over and over again falling out of their mouth like a prayer and they couldn't do that. Not while they were recording.

He watched them on the laptop, just barely visible still in his peripheral. It still showed the whole thing. And he tried not to get lost in it, get lost in Danny.

Seeing them in his colors as he fucked them made his heart beat wildly, his hips thrusting with fervor.

Their moans echoed and filled the kitchen, absolute music to his ears.

He would need to have this video, just to hear their moans again. So he could be certain that he was the one fucking them good enough to make those sounds.

Danny felt his tip hit their g-spot, making them scream praises and affirmatives. "Yes, yes don't stop! Ohhh~" There was only so much they could take before their walls fluttered around him, squirting out an orgasm that splattered against the kitchen floor, wetting both of their thighs.

Charlie was mesmerized, watching the way they shook around him as they came. So enamored with how their pussy felt around him. Too busy staring to continue thrusting.

Danny maneuvered his head back to their entrance and slid onto him with a moan.

They just couldn't get enough of him.

They wanted more. Needed more. Needed all of him every day, needed him to be theirs.

Needed him to fuck them like this every day, make their thighs wobble and their heart race and their mind go blank every fucking day.

And after that display, Charlie was definitely gonna cum again. His hands on their hips tightened and dragged their body back against him, the wetness of their orgasm helping him slide freely, reaching so deep inside.

He never wanted the feeling to end.

But it all came crashing down on him as he felt his mind go blank, fully blank, nothing in his brain except pussy around his cock.

His thrusts felt desperate against them, Danny whimpering as he continued to pound into them, before he sheathed himself so deep inside of them that their lungs pushed out a breath from lack of room.

Charlie's hips stuttered as he emptied his balls inside them, groaning and panting as his head rolled back.

"Sheesh~" Danny joked as both of their minds cleared slowly.

The two chuckled, Charlie pressing a kiss to their temple endearingly.

"Wanna go again?" Danny asked softly, half joking, but when they turned to see Charlie licking his lips, they knew they'd fucked up.

—————————————————————————

Moonzy 💖

Moonz

Hiiiii how was the stream?

Moonz

Danny?

Moonz

Hellooooo

Moonz

That good, huh? 😏

Moonz

Have fuuuunnn! 🤭

—————————————————————————

"Okay, I got it..." Charlie chuckled, trying not to laugh at his own joke before he even told it. "How does a nonbinary samurai kill their enemies? They slash them!"

Danny giggled at the pun, taking the last hit of their joint and pressing it out onto a plate of cake that sat next to them. "That's so stupid."

They were both sat on the floor, eating cake, smoking, and watching a movie that had been long paused and discarded.

"I told you I would come up with some better puns, so here they are." Charlie thought for a moment, before seeming to have an epiphany. "What did the Non-binary cowboys say when they moved to California?"

"What?" They played along with an uncontrollable grin.

"There's gold in them/their hills!" He snickered, putting on a southern accent to really sell it.

Covering their face with their palms, Danny shook their head. "That... Sucked." Their large smile contradicted their words.

"Okay, it wasn't my best..." Charlie admitted, leaning his forehead onto their shoulder, before sitting upright again.

They sighed, removing their hands from their face to look at him. Really look at the man in front of them.

Charlie.

Cute, loving, passionate, wonderful, Charlie.

They picked up a bite of cake with a fork, spooning it softly into his mouth with ease.

"I really do like you." Danny mumbled out with a fondness that they'd never heard their voice use before.

"I really like you too." He grinned with his mouth full, leaning closer. Not for any particular reason, just to be closer to them.

"Would you wanna stay longer than just tonight?" Danny's hand slipped into Charlie's, who gave it a light squeeze in return.

He shrugged and swallowed. "Well, I'm free all weekend."

Danny pressed a kiss to his cheek, which made them both giggle.

The two of them ended up posting the video a week or so later with a solo video in between.

Wouldn't want anyone to get suspicious.

No viewers figured it out, but they did notice that for the rest of Danny's videos, it was always the same guy in them.

Sure, there were theories, but nothing was ever confirmed.

Maybe one day the internet would figure it out.

But until that day, the two lovers had many good laughs about it.

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 91 (Aftermath Edition)

When Weevilsight won't leave the medicine den, her sisters force her on a walk.

[Image ID: Weevilsight, Wolfgaze, and Ravenweaver sit in the snow together. Wolfgaze and Ravenweaver groom Weevilsight, who sits disconnected from the world while she vents about all the grief and sorrow of recent moons, all stemming from their mother. Art by @unfortunatereader.]

(Weevilsight: 26, female, cleric, daring, deep StarClan bond)

(Wolfgaze: 26, female, codekeeper, thoughtful, connection to StarClan, great speaker)

(Ravenweaver: 26, female, artisan, den builder, very clever)

Washington provides a gentle and wise ear to Halibutdusk. He listens to Halibutdusk's grief and draws on his own recent losses to provide what little comfort he can.

[Image ID: Washington talks with Halibutdusk outside the medicine den. Halibutdusk sits, looking at their paws, while Washington lays beside him. Art by @smashgal.]

(Washington: 219, male, elder, nervous, good mediator)

(Halibutdusk: 83, nonbinary (they/them), warrior, gloomy, masterful storyteller, clever)

Vervaincough takes her grief and frustration out on Slushtrail.

[Image ID: There are two images that include Vervaincough and Slushtrail in the snow. In the first, Vervaincough yells at Slushtrail with tears falling down her cheeks, angry and hurt while Slushtrail listens like a good mediator. In the next, Slushtrail grooms Vervaincough's head and wraps her paws around her while Vervaincough leans in, continuing to cry. Art by @salt-clangen.]

(Vervaincough: 26, female, codekeeper, insecure, understands nature, good mediator)

(Slushtrail: 27, female, mediator, wise, clever, talented weaver)

Rattlepelt and Wildclaw share a nest in the nursery for the night.

[Image ID: A two-page comic showing Rattlepelt and Wildclaw in the nursery at night, curled around Midnightkit and Valleykit. The camp is tinted purple, but Rattlepelt and Wildclaw's eyes are bright. Rattlepelt wears her fox pelt with lavender woven into the fur and stuffed in the eye sockets. The pair have the following conversation, which ends in Wildclaw pulling Rattlepelt into the nest and the pair curling around their sons:

W: "Rattlepelt?"

W: "The kittens will get cold with just me in the nest, dear, come in."

R: "I... shouldn't."

W: "What's wrong now?"

R: "You know what it is..."

R: "Mousesong, then Carnationspeckle's kidnapping, then I get possessed and it leads to the death of a kit. And me and Mousesong are just like our little ones, all of them orphaned, and now..."

R: "It's me , isn't it? Why Trumpetspore's gone? I'm- I must be cursed, and now what will happen to the kittens? or my moms? Or you-"

-she gets yoinked-

W: "first off."

W: "my mate is not cursed. I'd know, having had an omen cat as kin."

R: "ough! What in Starclan's-"

W: "and second, I can protect myself."

W: "I can protect them, and I can protect you."

W: "But right now, they need their mama to also warm them up, no matter what circumstances led them to our care."

Art by @cappuccino-bear.]

(Wildclaw: 83, female, caretaker, fierce, trusted advisor, good fighter)

(Rattlepelt: 74, female, artisan, thoughtful, leather artist)

(Midnightkit: 0, male, kit, polite)

(Valleykit: 0, male, kit, quiet)

Surprise, everyone! I've been working with a few of my most vocal fans for a special moon update featuring proper art of your beloved cats! I am so grateful to everyone who agreed to draw a scene, especially since they had to keep some events secret for a while. I adore each piece. The individuality of each style is powerful and adds so much life to this. I promise happier moments ahead, even with the normal chaos of the Clans!

[lrlamauthor]

Hello, I come bearing the new covers of Micah Grey! Art by Vera Dramovski, who did the US covers for Emily Wilde.

Pantomime & Shadowplay were first released in 2013 and 2014. After the first publisher imprint closed, I managed to re-sell the first two and complete the trilogy in 2017.

Last year, thanks to the commercial success of Dragonfall, I was able to get the rights back and re-sell to my current US and UK publisher. This time, I decided to edit the books for content and to bring them up in line to my current writing style. I initially thought they would be minor edits. They...were not. Same spirit and overall journey, but polished to hopefully shine as bright as Penglass. When it was first released, it was the first YA book with an intersex protagonist in any genre. It's now been aged up to new adult (Micah is 18 instead of 16, but I haven't made it significantly spicier or anything). I'm excited to re-release it and be able to openly talk about its themes. My first publisher considered it a twist and I was asked not to mention he was intersex the first time around. But Dragonfall, which is in a queernorm world and has a nonbinary protagonist, has had some transphobic nonsense, and I'm pretty anxious about re-releasing it in a time where things are in many ways more polarized than when I first released it 12 years ago.

Anyway, book 1 is out in September and if you would like to read it (or preorder!), I hope you enjoy reading about a queer magic circus. At least this time you won't have to wait 3 years after the cliff-hanger at the end of book 2--you'll only have a 2 month gap.

“Set in a vividly imagined world…Pantomime is a fable-like story as beautifully unique as its main character.” —Malinda Lo, New York Times-bestselling author of Last Night at the Telegraph Club

In a land of lost wonders, the past is stirring once more . . .

Micah runs away from a debutante’s life at home and joins the circus, harboring two secrets—one: he was born between male and female, and two: he may have powers last seen in mysterious beings from an almost-forgotten age. Micah discovers the joy of flight as an aerialist, courting his trapeze partner, Aenea, and confiding in the mysterious white clown, Drystan. He finally feels free. But the circus has a dark side, and Micah’s past isn’t done with him.

Meanwhile, the strange 'ghost' of a woman with damselfly wings whispers to Micah that only he can help magic return to the realm, and he fears she may be right . . .

Micah has much to learn, and he must do it quickly—before his past and future collide, with catastrophic consequences.

"[A]n exotic and detailed world, peopled by characters that I’d love to be friends with…and some I’d never want to cross paths with." —Robin Hobb, New York Times-bestselling author of Fool’s Assassin