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"nothing is real atoms never touch each other youve never touched anything in your life" ok. well when i pet my dog he is soft and when he licks my hand it is wet and that is far more real to me than whatevers going on at an atomic level

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Stop normalizing the grind and start normalizing whatever this is

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DOCTOR WHO

4.10 "Midnight"

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New royals au soon! :)

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my ancestors seeing me shrug off a diarrhea session

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John Keats, from a letter to Fanny Brawne, featured in The Selected Letters of John Keats

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It was the only way to start it. The resistance in Nassau is now underway.

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hold on a second man…

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mi servono due paroli più forti di mamma e papà

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I’m genuinely obsessed

HOMESTEAD AUUUUUUU

homestead au, aka i think my brain's answer to putting kate and anthony in some form of oklahoma!/seven brides for seven brothers world hybrid. set in cowboy time with as much historical accuracy as bridgerton itself has attempted (read: none at all, only vibes).

kate is a widow left in debt by her husband; anthony is the owner of a wealthy homestead and is looking for a wife with a very long list of particular attributes. he puts an ad in the paper, and kate responds. here's part of one of their earliest exchanges, via letters:

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Dear Mrs Norton, 

Thank you for your response. 

I fear that I need to press the seriousness of such a position, and it is not one that I have come to advertising for lightly. The life that I am looking to offer you may very well not be what a lady accustomed to the city is used to. Though I am certainly not poor and you will never be without, there is no luxury or comfort to be found here, and I must dissuade you now if you think otherwise.

If you are in serious consideration of my offer, the following I describe must be comfortable to you:

Domestic work of cleaning, laundry, cooking, baking, sewing and mending and the like for a large family of people. 

Milking and caring for cattle and dealing with the daily care of other such livestock. 

The preparation of goods and food products of animals. Any squeamishness in regards to butchery would not be a sensible fit.

Long hours of physical work starting before the sun rises, and often in the fields and under the conditions of the outdoors.

You must have strength enough to swing an axe as the firewood for the main house will be under your care, but also to aid in repairs and any farm work that may require extra hands.

Flexibility across a great deal of jobs depending on the current need is necessary.

Ideally you would be able to ride a horse, but if you cannot and are not worried by them I can maybe find time to teach you. Without being able to ride, you will have to find a member of the family either willing or free enough to ride you into town on the wagon. At the very least you cannot be afeared of horses so much that you cannot learn to drive the wagon yourself when needed. You will struggle to travel the entire land and property efficiently without a horse.

You say you have helped raise your sister, but managing the homestead with the size of my family may be more thorough than a house in the city. A thrifty use of supplies and money is essential.

You must be able to find ease in your own company as you work, or with a limited group of family for long periods at a time. We live a fair way from town so it is not so much a quick, thoughtless journey to see others outside the family as it is in the city. Mail and news takes some time to reach us, and you may feel quite far away from the world if you are not so used to it. I spend most of my days out of doors away from the house, so it will mostly be my family to keep you company. 

To answer your question, the children are not mine. I have never been married myself. The family I speak of is my father’s; my mother and seven younger siblings, all but one of them still residing on the homestead and whose responsibility is entirely mine. The youngest may require some aid from you but they still have a mother who cares for them; the eldest work on the land with me. Your role would be alongside my mother and younger sisters; she will be able to assist for a time with anything unfamiliar to you, but it is my intention that my wife would one day take over the running of the household work from her as she ages.

If any of this is remotely daunting to you I must ask that you do not pursue this further, for both your sake and mine. I hope I am plain in my intentions, as the care of this homestead and my family are of the utmost importance to me. It is for their sake entirely that I seek a practical marriage.

I will now confess that the name on the advertisement is a misnomer to avoid too many interested eyes should this endeavour fail. The town is inescapably small, and I rarely have business outside of here that isn’t of interest to gossips. 

I will wait for your further correspondence, if your interest hasn’t waned.

Yours truly,

Mr Anthony Bridgerton

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Dear Mr Bridgerton,

From the brevity of your advertisement I had assumed you had succinctly covered all that you might require for a bride. Though it appears not, I am happy enough to oblige further my measurements up against your requirements. 

It is only this letter that I can offer you as proof of my suitability. Perhaps instead you would prefer a reference from my previous employer? Alas, my husband is deceased. You must take my word that he did not pass finding me wanting. Much as I now take your word on yourself in the same good faith. I am, after all, the one that will be required to make the journey into this unknown, on the honour of your word alone.

Please understand that I was able to comprehend the nature of the work you wish for me to take on, and none of what you have listed is too concerning to me, nor far from what I expected when I answered your advertisement. You will find that I am a hard-worker, stubbornly capable at most things I set my mind to, and not at all shy in the effort of dedicating myself to anything necessary to care for my family, physical labour or otherwise.

Neither am I easily cowed. 

In the interest of matching your plain speaking, I will again state my one condition, that you did not yet agree to. You speak of your family as your sole purpose and so too must I. Would you consent, in writing, to committing financial support to my mother and sister on my behalf, if I were to become your wife?

And so it needn’t remain a chief concern of yours, I am quite capable of riding a horse.

Your obedient servant,

Mrs Norton

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HAAAAAANSRY

my only non bridgerton fic in my wip list. it is possible to escape!!!

post canon kcd2. hans is politically married to jitka, and henry continues to live with him as his squire (read: secret live in boyfriend). this fic, henry has just returned to rattay from an errand to some news. aim was to just do a bit slice of life and then plot kept coming to me. which i havent written. but it's juicy and now i want to build on it idk. maybe i'll do it fully at some point!

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“It has quickened,” Hans says.

Henry has to force his fingers to resume their pattern on his skin, after they stutter to a brief halt.

“Really?” 

“So says Jitka.”

“I suppose she would be the one to know.”

Hans hums.

“Hanush tried to call for the bells to be rung out in celebration.” 

Hans’ disdain for the idea is dripping from his every word, so Henry has no need to ask for his opinion on this. “Tried to?” he questions instead.

“Jitka persuaded him otherwise,” Hans tells him, and then half-smiles in a way Henry did not expect. “It was quite amusing actually. She made me laugh with the way she danced around him. It was expertly done.” But then he sighs, and displeasure settles around his shoulders again. “And useful really, she saved me the trouble of having to argue against Hanush myself. As if I needed an excuse for another battle - alas.” A scoff. “I suppose I can understand his enthusiasm for all his plans coming together. But where’s the dignity? Come listen, one and all - young Capon of Pirkstein may well have begotten an heir! His seed is fertile and plentiful!” And then he turns to Henry again, with that imperious, outraged furrow to his brow. “Must he rush to announce to the entire region that his nephew isn’t impotent?”

This, finally, makes Henry laugh. 

“I don’t think anyone in Rattay would ever accuse you of that.”

“What?” Henry can read it clearly in Hans’ eyes - the glimmer of amusement that cannot be dampened even under his pretense of offence. “Of having dignity or being impotent?”

“Neither,” Henry scoffs around his smile. Hans responds in kind, grinning even as he brutally pinches Henry’s thigh through his hose.

“Probably not.”

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I think you should release this as a standalone piece STAT!!!!!!!

SNOOPER NO SNOOPING

and @pixie-likethecut

another operation barista sequel! to take place AFTER the polin instalment i still have not written yet. eventually, eventually. but this will come out after that, whenever that may be. even though i wrote this first and it's sort of nearly finished.

this was so difficult to find a good snippet from but, i tried:

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Benedict: i hate to say it but colin’s right

Daphne: Gregory still needs to be talked to

Colin: @ benedict ive screenshotted that

Colin: daph about WHAT tho?

Colin: you keep saying this but what exactly do you want us to say?

Benedict: he is 17 

Benedict: he isnt a baby

Benedict: he is a horny teenage monster

Benedict: which is completely normal!

Colin: never has it been more clear to me that mine and daphs puberties might as well have taken place on different planets

Daphne: I don’t even know how to respond to that.

Benedict: i advise that you dont

Benedict: for your own sake

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I love it hereeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

HYARETH ANASTASIA 😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻🐻👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺 RA RA RASPUTIN LOVER OF THE RUSSIAN QUEEN

i was legit writing some of this just the other week! i think i'll just happily keep chipping away at this 100 words at a time in the background til it's done. it's exactly what it says on the tin! hyacinth (or, heidi, in this story) is anya and gareth is dmitri! simon is vlad! please enjoy part of their first meeting:

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“Are you serious?” the younger one asks.

“Serious enough.”

“She’s got a look of them.” 

“More than a look,” the older one insists, still staring. “She has the eyes.”

The younger pulls a face. “Brown.”

“Bridgerton eyes,” the older corrects him, and with that one discerning look at her Heidi is forced to suppress a shudder that goes through her whole body. 

Whatever they’re talking about, she suddenly wants nothing to do with it; both of them were strange, and she cared none for the way either of them were looking at her then. Free papers be damned, she can find another way out of Aubrey if needs be.

Still - Heidi is unendingly curious. She always has been, to her eternal detriment.

“Bridgerton?” she repeats, scowling and fighting her instinct to flee as they both continue to assess her like she’s some kind of doll to purchase. “What the hell are you talking about?”

The younger man dismisses her with a quick ‘shush’ and takes the final steps towards quickly. “Stay still,” he orders, and moves as if to reach out and touch her face.

“I will not,” she spits, and slaps the boy’s hand out of the way. She’s quick enough it stings -  she knows she hits hard, she’s made girls tougher than him hurt more for trying with her -  and she relishes the shock and anger that flicks through his eyes as he retracts from her. “Tell me what you want with me or I’ll slap you harder than that.”

The boy’s pride smarts at this, his mouth pursing in displeasure and then opening to retort, but his friend steps between them before he can.

“There won’t be any need for that,” he soothes, almost unnervingly calm. “We’re just surprised, is all.”

Heidi eyes them both. “Surprised?”

“Surprised that we’ve spent the better part of three months looking all over the city for you,” he says. “And all it took was waiting for you to turn up here unannounced. We should have known that Danbury would be the woman to find you.”

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Everyone join me in cheering on Nel to release this into the world. I DESERVE IT!!!!

oil and fire !!

my prose companion piece to operation barista 2! one chapter is almost complete, but without any kind of plan to get through the other two, she's wallowing in WIP limbo. maybe the release of s4 will spur me on to get my benophie drafts out into the world. please enjoy a snippet of it that still makes me laugh to myself.

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Benedict loved women.

Once, stupidly drunk and weirdly lonely, him and Colin had topped and tailed in his brother’s small uni bunk in his first year halls in Manchester - passing back a bottle of Peach Schnapps that they’d only bought because it was on offer and they were skint students - and they had talked and talked and talked, just about women, for hours.

“They’re just like…perfect,” Colin had said lamely, gesturing up at nothing apart from his cracked dorm ceiling. “Like - right?”

“Hmm.” Benedict had never been drunker in front of his brother in his life than he was in that moment. “Vaginas are fucking great as well.”

“Love a vagina,” Colin agreed. “Phenomenal.”

“Have you ever thought - like,” Benedict had begun, blinking drowsily. “The shape of a vagina is like, the shape of the universe?”

“No,” Colin had told him, after a beat to think. “No, I can safely say I have never thought that.”

“Maybe it’s proof that God exists,” Benedict had suggested; and then Colin had choked on the Schnapp’s so violently that Benedict had to get up to thump him on his back.

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"how do you tell the difference between a whippet and an italian greyhound" simple. look at it head on. if it looks like a dog it's a whippet. if it's making a face like you've just threatened it with a firearm, it's an iggy

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THE GILDED AGE 3x01: Who Is In Charge Here?

I thought you might have announced your engagement to young Mr. Russell. There's plenty of time for that. So you're not in a hurry, then? I've made two mistakes. The first because I was blind, the second because I thought I could settle for something less than perfect. I was wrong both times, I don't want to be wrong again.

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loml, the libby app