#Pride and Prudence

[mx-ryder]

I was trying my hand at emulating a specific author I adore, and accidentally wrote the First Sentence of the book ._.

[mx-ryder]

Depends heavily/Yes, absolutely/She bites them, so probably not

things to ask yourself when designing a female character:

how much blood is she covered in

are her eyes filled with madness

can she rip things to shreds with her fingernails

[faramirsonofgondor]

In honor of Pride Month here are some of my favorite canon queer characters:

Happy Pride Month everyone ♥️🏳️‍🌈🥳

[slightlyhopefulromantic]

"but what do i know? i'm just a simple honeymooner."

[mx-ryder]

Let's see. . .

Adult fiction, check Fantasy and/or romance, check LGBT+ themes and characters, quadruple check Not a monster fucker, but I do write about angels and dragons (current WIP is about angels, but they're, sadly, the very human-presenting kind). Write graphic sex, check Write about mental illness, check and rock and roll, check!

My dash is dead and I need way more writeblr's to follow and play tag games with so...

Pls rb/like this post if you're a writeblr and post about any of the following:

Writes adult fiction

Primarily writes romance/fantasy/scifi/paranormal/etc.

LGBT+ themes and characters

A monster fucker (bonus points if you write about angels, demons, or dragons)

Write graphic violence and sex scenes

Write about mental illness

or

you like rock and roll

And I'll check you out and give you a follow! I follow from @mercurialsmile so if you see that username hi its just me.

[reecesplotdevice]

Gays in my restaurant...... I hate the 𝑔𝒶𝓎𝓈 /j /nsrs

[paulyollyoxxenfree]

Following what I just reblogged and continuing on my Bridgerton hyperfixation. Prudence Fetherington states to her mother she’s had sex with her husband once, on their wedding night, and she doesn���t like it, plus it messes up her hair, further more, when Portia has to explain to her and Philippa how sex is actually had, she actually seems to know way more than Philippa but is still really just not interested.

So anyway, all that to say, my Happily married little Ace heart fully thinks Prudence is happily married to Dankworth but just has no interest in sex, she’s Ace, and I love that for her. Even when she went to kiss her husband she felt kinda awkward and pulled away when someone was watching.

Anyway. I just wanted to put that out there. I’m probably wrong. But in my head this is how it plays out.

[pinkbewwy-milk]

a little late but happy pride month everyone !

[crypticcodexcreations]

Hello hello and happy STS (and late blorbo blursday)! If you don't mind, please classify your OCs according to the following: bimbo, mean bisexual, even meaner lesbian, she/they, he/they, token straight that's on thin ice, astrology bitch who has everyone's birth chart memorized, short king. Bonus points if you can explain why for each. :D (You are free to leave out any that do not apply to your OCs' friend group.)

Not to be dramatic, but I have been thinking about this ask non-stop since I got it and I'm honestly a little embarrassed at how long it took me to realize what group I should do this with! While the cast of Lost Divinity is not necessarily all friends, they all absolutely fit into these roles. So! Time to talk about where the Sins and Virtues fit into this! Gonna save everyone's dashes with a readmore

Kindness is the bimbo, full stop. She's Kind, because, of course she is, but uh, there's not a whole lot else going on up there. She's lucky they work in pairs because sometimes she's prone to getting a little distracted if she sees someone who could use her Kindness. And that's where Hope comes in to remind her to work

(Do I get extra bonus points for mentioning that Diligence is a Himbo? Because he is. He's buff, hard working, tries his best to be nice to people, but uh. That's about it. Prudence kind of just has to aim him at problems and give him cookies when he does a good job.)

The mean bisexual is Lust, and I feel like I don't even really need to explain why. He's bitchy, he's mean, he'll kick anybody's ass, and he's not picky about partners, sometimes to his own detriment to be completely honest.

The even meaner lesbian brings us to Envy. She doesn't seem all that strong at first glance, but she's the queen of controlling situations. She knows everyone's secrets, everyone's weaknesses, and she WILL blackmail someone to Hell and back. Lust stole her eyeliner one time and he still regrets it to this day.

Prudence is our she/they, but it's kind of cheating to assign this to any one character because none of the Sins or Virtues fully ascribe to human gender norms. Pride's gender, for example, is yes. However, I feel like Prudence is the one most likely to pick she/they if asked.

On a similar front, with similar reasoning, Gluttony is the he/they. He's the most likely to actively choose it.

Unfortunately, I just can't seem to write straight people, but Temperance is on thin ice anyways. That fucker knows what they did.

Envy and Pride both are the astrology bitches that have everyone's chart memorized and they gossip about that together. They constantly make fun of Wrath for behaving just how his chart says he should, knowing it'll piss him off. They think it's funny, and sometimes will say it even when it's not true.

And after double checking to make sure I've got the Short King definition right, I do and it's Greed. Motherfucker is tiny, but he's suave, smart, and he damn well knows it.

[biblebloodhound]

Consider Wisdom (Proverbs 1:1-19)

“To educate a man in mind and not in morals is to educate a menace to society.” Theodore Roosevelt

By Peter Max, 2008 The proverbs of Solomon, son of David and king of Israel. Here are proverbs that will help you recognize wisdom and good advice, and understand sayings with deep meaning. They can teach you how to live intelligently and how to be honest, just, and fair. They can make an inexperienced person clever and teach young people how to be resourceful. These proverbs can even add to…

[mx-ryder]

New WIP who dis

Or actually . . . Old WIP, but with a new coat of paint.

[raven-dor]

you're my savior

in which anthony bridgerton’s childhood best friend is desperately in love with him…

PAIRING: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader, platonic!bridgertons x reader

WARNINGS: given last name (Kinsley), typical sexism of the era, PINING, avoiding the inevitable, oblivious Anthony, angst, fluff, kissing, fluff ending!!

WORD COUNT: 6.1k

🎶 : sailor song - gigi perez

AN: 🩵♥️💗 - this is a personal fav of mine!! it's also a long one, so have fun!!

Dearest reader, the time has come to place our bets for the upcoming social season. Consider the household of the Baron Featherington. Three misses foisted upon the marriage market like sorrowful sows by their tasteless, tactless mama. Far better odds might exist in the household of the widowed Viscountess Bridgerton. A shockingly prolific family noted for its bounty of perfectly handsome sons and perfectly beautiful daughters.

Your father extended his hand, guiding you out of the carriage. You smiled gratefully, kissing his cheek. "Thank you, Papa."

"Of course, my darling."

Your mother hooked her arm through his, eyes full of adoration. "Shall we head inside, mon cheri?"

"Lead the way, my love."

The castle was magnificent as always, with flowers draped on every surface, and ushers waiting behind every door. Your father led you through to the main hall, his voice carrying as he greeted the young lord. "Viscount Bridgerton!"

"Lord Kinsley.” Anthony showed no sign of embarrassment or disdain for your father’s enthusiasm; in fact, he welcomed it. “I cannot recall how many times I have asked you to call me Anthony."

"As you wish." The older man laughed. "My lord."

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at your father. Your mother apologized to Anthony, hugging him as tightly as she hugged you. "It is his nature, to tease you.” She stepped back, holding his hands in hers. “And how are you?”

“Well, my lady.” He smiled, practically begging to be saved when his eyes met yours. “Very well.” 

You hid your laughter behind your hand, shaking your head in disapproval. "My lord." Your mother moved aside, allowing you to greet your lifelong friend.

“So formal today, Miss Kinsley.”

"You know very well I cannot smack you in front of the Queen.” You whispered. “Must you tease me so?”

The Viscount laughed, hooking his arm through yours. “Those poor Featherington girls.”

You frowned, watching as Penelope, Prudence, and Phillipa were practically marched towards the Queen. You held back a gasp as Prudence fainted in front of the Queen, the room erupting into chaos. Leaning over, you whispered in Anthony’s ear. “I assume Lady Featherington is hoping this is all a dream.” 

Anthony laughed. "I imagine this is her nightmare."

"Miss Daphne Bridgerton, presented by her mother, the Right Honorable, Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton." The doors opened slowly, Daphne almost gliding through them.

"She looks beautiful." You leaned into Anthony’s side, smiling brightly. "Don't you think?"

He looked down, his heart skipping. You looked radiant, the pale blue dress brought out your features wonderfully. It did not go unnoticed by him that you were wearing his family's colors, something he found pride in for some odd reason. “Yes. Yes, she does.” 

She bowed deeply, the entire room holding their breaths as the Queen stood, placing her finger beneath Daphne's chin. "Flawless, my dear." 

You grinned, squeezing Anthony's arm tighter. He winced, hissing from the pain. "Christ. You are more excited for my dear sister than I am."

You lay haphazardly on Daphne’s bed, smiling as you watched the Bridgeton women gossip around you. Moments like this made you long for siblings, for some sort of companion. You supposed the Bridgertons filled that longing by making you a part of their antics - whether you wanted to or not. 

You had known Anthony since you were a mere two years of age, meeting the young boy when your family had moved in those many years ago. You’d been there when each of the Bridgerton children was brought into this world, you’d been there when Edmund died, you’d been there when Anthony became the lord of their family, and you had been there with your mother when Lady Bridgerton gave birth to Hyacinth. 

"You absolutely sparkled, sister."

Daphne was the very picture of grace, brushing off her sister’s kind words. "Come now. I merely simpered and minced in a pretty dress like everyone else.” 

You scoffed. “Not exactly like everyone else, you were perfection itself."

Eloise sighed. "Oh, I shall need to go and visit with Penelope. Her presentation was anything but... what was it the Queen called you again?"

Daphne blushed, slipping into her dress. "Flawless. Or some such thing. Trust, I was astonished Her Majesty offered me, out of two hundred young ladies present, a most gracious remark."

"Yes, it was quite a distinction. And now, 200 young ladies have a common adversary. I wish you luck, sister."

"Eloise!" Daphne gasped. 

Eloise did not look shocked by her sister’s outburst, and you had a sneaking suspicion she was trying to rile her sister into a frenzy. “What? It is true.” 

“My success on the marriage mart influences all of your prospects. We will all need to find love one day. Indeed, a love as pure as what Mama and Papa once shared, if we are so fortunate. I merely hope I am able to continue such a grand tradition.”

Violet burst through the door, the maids trailing behind her, each carrying at least three boxes. “Your dresses have arrived.” The rest of the girls followed after Daphne, who had practically raced toward the new arrivals. 

Eloise stayed in her chair, staring at you curiously. “Surely you agree with me?”

“Eloise.” You gave her a pointed look. “Why must you tease your sister so?” 

“It is all in good fun,” Eloise grumbled, crossing her arms. 

You sighed, slipping off the bed, holding your hand out to the younger girl. "You know I wholeheartedly agree. The marriage market is no honorable arena. It is a bloodbath indeed."

Eloise laughed, putting her hand in yours. "I wish I were like you."

"How so?” You tilted your head. 

“You can flout about undetected, without fear of your mama forcing you to attend fitting after fitting.” 

You laughed, nudging her arm. “If it is any consolation, I wish I were you.” You walked through the doorway, gazing at the dozens of dresses laid out for Daphne to peruse at her pleasure. 

"Why would you want to be like me?" Eloise smirked, wiggling her eyebrows teasingly. "To be young? I didn't take you to be so vain, Kinsley."

You laughed, shaking your head. "You know what I meant." You looked out at the room full of Bridgertons, watching with a concealed envy you hardly ever let show. "That, that is what I meant." 

Eloise squeezed your hand. "You do have that. We are family, you and I." 

"Yes, well..." You shoved Eloise towards the dresses, laughing at her disgusted face. "Enough chatter. Try one of these exquisite gowns on. I demand it." 

Eloise glared, sticking her tongue out as she grabbed the latest gossip column. "Mary Edgecombe, now the Countess of Fulton, apparently spent the last year living in a cottage hundreds of miles away from her Earl. It says it all right here."

Violet sighed. "Do not tell me it is yet another scandal sheet. Eloise-"

"No, no. This one is different. This one lists subjects by name, in full."

Hyacinth jumped. "Let me see!"

"Just wait-"

Francesca stared at the paper. "Lady Whistledown?"

"Do we know a Lady Whistledown?"

"Surely, Lady Whistledown cannot be her true name." Daphne glanced at the scandal sheet.

"What does it say, dearest?"

"She loathes the fact that we've been named alphabetically, oldest to youngest."

"Your father and I found it orderly."

"Lady Whistledown finds banality."

You rolled your eyes. "Lady Whistledown sounds like a bored old hag."

Violet gave you a disappointed look, raising a single eyebrow. "I may not be your mother, but I am sure she does not allow you to use that kind of language."

You instantly cowered under her gaze, smiling guiltily. "Yes, Violet."

"The papers were distributed around town today without charge."

"Without charge? What kind of author-" Violet gasped, holding Daphne's hand. "Well, at least she has one thing right. She has named Daphne this season's Incomparable. She calls you a diamond of the first water.” The older woman sighed, smiling to herself. “Well, how lovely."

You clapped your hands, grabbing the attention of the room. “I'm afraid I must be off. My mother will be wondering where I am."

Daphne smiled. "Will you be at the ball tonight?"

"Of course I will, Daph."

You waved goodbye once more before traipsing down the stairs towards Anthony’s study.

You watched as he worked or tried to, at least. He kept staring at his father’s pocket watch, distracting himself from his duties. And you kept getting distracted by how perfect he looked in the midday light. Ridding yourself of those outlandish thoughts, you pushed the door the rest of the way open, leaning against its frame. "Waiting for someone, my lord?"

"It’s you." He glared playfully. "Please, come in."

"You seem to be in a mood." You stood in front of his desk, wiggling your eyebrows. “Is dear Sienna denying your visits?"

“When I tell you things in confidence, that does not mean you may bring them up every waking moment.” 

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. "I think that is exactly what that means, my dear Anthony. Friends tease; it is in their nature."

His eyes were heavy, as if he found offense with your statement. Still, he said nothing of it, leaning forward in his chair. “Shall you be in attendance at the Danbury Ball as well?”

“I would not miss it. Even if I wished not to attend, you know as well as I that my mother would require it. She is determined to find me a husband by the end of this season.”

Anthony looked unempathetic, feigning pity. “What a horrible life to lead. I seem to recall more than one man proposing to you over the years.”

You crossed your arms. “And what a horrible friend you are. You know very well I would wait centuries if that meant finding a love half as fulfilling as my mother and father’s. You do not seem to understand how horrible these men, your peers, truly are. If I had told Benedict, he would have at least tried to-”

“Well, I am not Benedict.” His tone was harsh, all inclinations of humor leaving his face as he sat back, his gaze returning to his paperwork. “Save me a dance.”

You nodded, wishing you could stay just a moment longer. “It is humorous.”

He looked up, taking the bait you had laid. “What is?” 

“That you believed I had not already done so.” You smiled, leaning across the desk and kissing his cheek. “Don’t be late.” 

The Danbury ball, as it had been every year before, was the very picture of elegance, the ultimate beginning to your seventh season on the market. Your dress was pale pink, practically white, with draping fabric that billowed when you walked. Your mother had chosen it herself, stating that if this gown did not attract suitors, she had no idea what would.

You smiled at Daphne, leaning over to your mother, who was locked in some conversation with a lord whose name you didn’t care to learn. “The Bridgertons are calling me over, Mama. Excuse me.” You hadn’t bothered to wait for permission, skirting across the room as you expertly avoided eye contact with any eager young lord in need of a wife. 

Anthony smirked, shaking his head at your antics. “Ms. Kinsley.”

“Lord Bridgerton.” You curtsied. “Lady Bridgerton.” 

Violet smiled. “Are you enjoying the ball, dear?” 

You nodded. “It is quite exquisite.” Looking over at the newly debuted girl, you forced yourself not to laugh at her overwhelmed expression, placing a comforting hand on her arm. “Relax your shoulders, Daph. You look as if you forgot how to breathe.” Daphne smiled gratefully, releasing the tension she hadn't even realized she was holding. “It is not so bad, the balls and picnics.” You hooked your arm through Anthony's as if it was second nature, muttering under your breath. "Unless you get stuck with some boring lord like-"

"Lady Bridgerton, Miss Bridgerton." Ambrose sighed, smiling faintly. "Lord Bridgerton."

"Are you not forgetting someone?" Anthony’s voice was harsh, clipped as he gestured toward you. Ambrose nodded, extending the courtesy of a quick smile. 

"Miss Kinsley."

Violet smiled. "I believe you have already met my daughter, Daphne, Lord Ambrose."

He nodded. "Yes! We met at your brother's levee."

"If I recall, my lord, you had just won your first race at Newmarket."

Anthony smiled condescendingly at the lord in front of him. "His first and only, I believe."

"Well..." Daphne looked back at the visibly embarrassed lord. "In that case, let us hope your lordship has found yourself a new horse."

"I haven't had the pleasure of seeing you at our club lately, Ambrose. Should it have anything to do with the unpaid balance you left on our betting books winter last?"

Ambrose practically gulped, walking away without another word, leaving Daphne and Violet standing in uncomfortable silence. Anthony turned to his mother and sister, that terrible all all-knowing look on his face. "Ambrose is a cheat."

“I did not realize.”

"Well, how could you have done? It's the very reason I am here, sister. Now, let us take a turn about the room."

You felt as if this was a conversation best left to family. While you had grown up together, this was not your place. You began to slip your arm out of Anthony’s, whispering. "I should get back to my mother-"

"Do you really want to be stuck in a meaningless conversation with a boring lord?" Anthony scoffed, pulling you closer to him, closer than what many of the ton deemed proper. You choked on your breath, heart stopping at the gesture. "I am saving you from a night of misery."

You rolled your eyes, Anthony quickly reminding you of his arrogance. "How charitable of you."

Daphne interrupted, pointing towards a blond man dancing. "He is rather pleasing."

"He is here to shuffle about hunting fortunes. Trust Mr. Lewis knows of your sizable dowry. Leave him be." 

She frowned, pointing towards another man. "I presume you know him too?"

"Mr. Worthington. Second son. We shall find better."

You nudged Anthony’s side, signalling that he should ease up on the girl. “Anthony, you are going to scare her.” 

“I am merely warning her about the-”

"Anthony, Daph, Miss Kinsley!" Benedict waved from across the room, pushing his way across. You grinned, wiggling your arm out of Anthony's hold to greet him. 

It was not missed by Lady Bridgerton or Daphne how Anthony’s face fell from the loss. 

“Benedict! How are you?”

He brought your right hand up to his lips, kissing the back gently. "Better now that you are here."

You laughed, smacking him lightly with your fan. “You flatter me.”

Anthony glared at Benedict, shaking his head. “Benedict, do not flirt with our dear friend.”

“Why not?”

"Because I said so, that is-"

Colin interrupted. "Did mother tell you yet? About my tour? I'm to begin in Greece."

"Greece, how adventurous, Colin."

You grinned. "Greece is wonderful this time of year; you will have a wonderful time, I'm sure."

Anthony's eyes practically fell out of their sockets, grabbing your hand and making a run for it. “On guard!”

Lady Danbury approached, laughing. “Too late. I already noted you.” She turned to Daphne, smiling. “Miss Bridgerton, you look rather lovely this evening. Is there a reason I've yet to see you on the dance floor?”

Anthony jumped in. "All in good time, Lady Danbury."

The older woman glared at Anthony, leaning towards Daphne. "You poor thing."

You laughed, agreeing with the lady wholeheartedly. "I thank the lord every day I do not have an older brother."

Benedict nudged you, faux frowning. "If only I had been born one year earlier."

"And from different parents." You shook your head, laughing. "The sentiment is there." You turned to Anthony, who was still staring down every eligible young man in the room who had their sights set on his sister. “I believe I saved you a dance.”

“Do not think you can save Daphne by distracting me.”

You raised an eyebrow, an easy sort of smile gracing your lips. “Do I distract you so easily, Lord Bridgerton?” 

His cheeks flushed, and he rolled his eyes. “Come along then.” Still holding your hand from when he tried to escape Lady Danbury, he led you through the crowd, stopping at the center of the dance floor.

A simple waltz rang through the room, the kind that even children knew. Anthony lowered his lips to your ear, shivers running down your spine as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you in. "We have not danced in quite some time."

You whispered, not trusting your voice to remain stable. “The last time you asked me to dance, I believe we were in your study." Your smile fell slightly at the thought of him erasing the memory from his mind. "Remember?"

His gaze softened, his fingers pressing into your waist as he pulled you even closer, closer than one should be for a waltz. "How could I forget?"

"It was a rather odd waltz." You retorted, desperate to break the tension. "There was no music after all."

He laughed, a look gracing his face you hadn’t seen in some time, since before his father’s passing. Peace, pure, unadultered peace, perhaps with a sprinkle of mischief. "Such a difficult woman to please." 

"I am not." You glared at him, hating the way he made you feel, the way your stomach twisted when he looked at you the way he often did. "Anthony-"

"You are not a hard woman to please?" His smirk grew into a boyish grin. "What an inappropriate thing to-"

“Do not finish that sentence, Anthony Bridgerton.” You scoffed. “What happened to being a gentleman?” The conductor bowed, the waltz ending what seemed out of nowhere. Or perhaps, you would later tell yourself, it was because you got lost in Anthony Bridgerton’s eyes for the umpteenth time. You curtsied, walking away from the Viscount with your nose in the air. 

He chased after you, walking a mere step behind you. "I forget what being a gentleman is when I am around you." You knew he was jesting, but the way he had said it caused your stomach to twist and your cheeks to grow hot. 

"Please." You pulled your fan out, desperate to save face. "Save your theatrics for Sienna."

"You bring up Sienna quite often." He practically jumped in front of you, a dangerous look in his eyes. "Are you perhaps jealous?"

You scoffed, grabbing a glass of champagne from the table beside you, taking a large sip. "You are the most indignant man I have ever had the displeasure of-" Your eyes drifted over his shoulder, squinting. "Is that Basset?"

"Basset?" Anthony whipped around, grinning at the sight of his best friend. "Basset!"

"Bridgerton!" The Duke smiled kindly at you, bowing. "Miss Kinsley."

"Simon, it’s wonderful to see you."

"Old friend. I heard news of your father.” Anthony had a look of astonishment on his face. “Deuce, take it, you are no longer Basset."

"I shall always-"

"Hastings! The Duke of Hastings, now known for evermore."

Daphne tilted her head. "The Duke of Hastings, is it?"

You jumped. Daphne had shown up out of nowhere. Anthony nodded. "Right, Hastings, this is my sister."

"Your sister?"

"Daphne, Hastings, and I know each other from our days at Oxford, days we shall not soon forget."

"Yes. As I am well aware of the company you keep, brother, I am certain your days with His Grace were most civilized indeed."

You coughed, trying to cover up a laugh that had unfortunately spilled from your lips.

"Hastings, we shall need to get together properly. I expect to see you at our club then."

Simon nodded. "Indeed. Evening Bridgerton. Miss Bridgerton. Miss Kinsley."

Every week since your two families, the Bridgerton’s and the Kinsley’s, had come to know each other, you had had dinner.

This week was no exception, walking behind your parents as the butler escorted you to the dining room. Your father hugged Violet quickly, running after the youngest Bridgertons, who had been trying to attack him while he’d been distracted. 

Your mother laughed, shaking her head affectionately. "I believe my husband will never mature, Violet."

"I believe you would be right, Elisabeth." Violet sighed, her eyes drifting from her typically light-hearted nature to one of melancholy. "Shall we take our seats?"

Ever since his father’s death, Anthony had taken his seat, and for just as long, you had been sitting on his right. It was fitting, your mother would say when you whined. ‘You will marry, I know it.’ That is when you would scoff, shaking your head.

Now, you secretly wish your mother were correct. 

“For all we know, Whistledown may be some interloper living in Bloomsbury of all places."

Benedict rolled his eyes at his brother. "And what should be so terrible about Bloomsbury? That the people there actually work for a living?"

"She does seem to be someone with access."

"Who knows if Whistledown is even a she?"

Anthony nodded, taking a bite of his dinner. "Good point."

You scoffed, leaning forward in your chair. "You all are forgetting one crucial detail."

Anthony raised an eyebrow, waiting for your apparent revelation. "And what is that?"

You smirked, teasingly pointing at him with your fork. "Men do not possess the capacity to remember such details."

Eloise nodded vigorously. "Because she is simply too good to be anyone but a man?"

Anthony sighed. "I must say, you are not a good influence on my sisters."

"Well, I think it is rather obvious that the writer is Lady Danbury."

"Lady Danbury enjoys sharing her insults with society directly. She would never bother herself writing them all down."

Hyacinth spoke up. "Could it be Lady Featherington?"

The table fell into thunderous laughter. "No!"

"You have yet to read what Whistledown writes of the Featherington's, little sister." Eloise pointed out.

Hyacinth sat back, frowning. "I was just trying to help."

"And you were doing wonderfully, Hyacinth." You smiled warmly. "It is not your fault that you are normal and uneducated on such trivial nonsense, unlike Eloise." The girl rolled her eyes, sticking her tongue out at you. "Some say your sister is obsessed."

"I am not obsessed. Simply curious." She said as she stabbed a potato rather harshly.

"I'm only teasing, Eloise. I am equally curious as to who the author is. Wouldn’t it be spectacular if it were-" 

"Hastings! I am most excited that you decided to join us this evening. It was most spontaneous of you."

You glared, muttering under your breath. “I was not finished.” Anthony paid you no heed, staring at his friend with a curious look in his eye. 

"Not at all. With Lady Danbury accepting your dear mother's gracious invitation on my behalf, well. However, could I have declined?"

You laughed, covering your mouth with your wine glass, whispering. "What a matchmaker your mother is."

Anthony scowled. "Do not remind me."

You once again found yourself peeking through the cracked door of Anthony’s study. You smiled to yourself as his face came into view, admiring him from afar. He was quite handsome, with his terribly witty look, his dark features, and his kind eyes. You stepped closer, about to enter the study, when Lady Bridgerton’s voice cut through the silence.

"I was under the impression that the two of you are good friends."

"We are good friends. That is why I know that he is certain of never getting married."

Violet sighed. "Well, you must understand that all men make that assertion. Your father-"

Anthony snapped, looking up from his ledgers. "Do not bring Father into this. Even if he were in want of a wife, you would most certainly not have the duke anywhere near Daphne."

"I am fully subscribed to the belief that reformed rakes make the very best of husbands."

"He will not make her happy! Daphne deserves better. And I know that you think you are solving the problem, but you are not. That is all I shall say about the matter."

"The duke will be joining us as our guest at Vauxhall tomorrow evening. Now, I admit, it was not easy to convince him to come-"

"You overstep."

"She is my eldest daughter."

"Yet she is my responsibility, as are you."

Violet scoffed. "Responsibility?"

"Do not make this any more difficult than it already is."

Violet continued. "I wish to know something, Anthony. Tonight, when you leave this study that you continue to keep at your family home, are you to return to your bachelor lodgings across the square, or will you pay a visit to a certain soprano that you tend to in an apartment that you pay for on the other side of town?" 

You gasped, slapping a hand over your mouth. 

"You like to speak of responsibility. My dear son! Of duty? Pray, tell, what should you know of it? You must ask yourself, are you merely an older brother, or are you the man of this house?"

Violet stormed out of the study, and you tried your best to look as if you’d just happened upon the hallway, that you had not, in fact, been eavesdropping the entirety of their conversation. Anthony’s face was in his hands as you entered. 

"Mother, please leave me-"

"Anthony." You frowned, shutting the door gently behind you. "Are you quite alright?" He shrugged, finding it difficult to form words. You walked behind the desk, sitting directly in front of him. “Do not become cross with me.”

"Why would I be cross at you?" He tilted his head.

You reached out, holding his hands gently in yours. Your thumb caressed the back of his palm, your eyes trailing up from your joined hands to his eyes. "Anthony..."

"Not you, too." He sounded properly exhausted, simply dropping your hold as he walked toward the fire. That was somehow worse than him ripping his hands out of yours.  

You followed after him, crossing your arms. “I am merely saying that your mother has a point. You are a great Viscount, but you could-”

"I'm not my father."

You felt as if the very air you breathed had been pulled from your lungs. Your voice was soft as you spoke. "I know that."

“Then why does she keep insisting that I be-"

"I know that it feels as if she is putting the weight of the world on your shoulders, but she is trying to help you." You could not fight the urge to hold him any longer, placing a hand on his shoulder. “She loves you.” You whispered, heart skipping. “As do I.” 

He turned around, pulling your hand from his shoulder and holding it in his. “Promise me something.”

You decided to humor him, nodding. "Anything."

"Do not ever leave me." His eyes held a longing, a want for everything to remain the same. You pitied him. Eventually, you would marry, and now that you had accepted that you and Anthony were never to be, that would mean you would cease to see him.

"I will try my best."

He shook his head and pulled you closer, your breaths intermingling as his eyes darted to your lips every so often. You so longed to jump up, to pull his lips to yours. “I do not know what I would do if I lost you.”

“Anthony, please.” You put a hand on his cheek, smiling as he leaned into your touch. “You would be fine-”

"I do not believe I would." He leaned down, your breath hitching as he laid his forehead against yours. "In fact, I know I would not."

You laughed, falling into the trap of domestic bliss. "Anthony, I will marry eventually. You and I will no longer see each other." 

He scoffed. "Pray tell, what possessed you to ruin my dream? Humor me." 

"Dream?” You raised your eyebrow, smiling giddily. “What dream is that?" His finger pressed against your lips, and you stopped, thanking the lord for the dim lighting the room provided. Hopefully, he could not see how wide your pupils were, your shallow breaths, your burning cheeks.

“It will not happen.” 

You raised your eyebrow once more, this time in offense. “Am I that difficult on the eye?” 

He laughed. “Do not fish for compliments. You know you are exquisite.” You sighed, stepping back. It all became too much, this complimenting, his dream, him. He tightened his hold on your hands, eyebrows furrowing. “Where are you off to?” 

“I should be going, Anthony. It is late-” 

“You always stay this late.” He frowned. “Is something-” 

“Dearest!” Your mother’s voice rang through the house, and your eyes widened, pulling away from the Viscount. “Dearest, we are leaving!” 

You would later thank your mother for her help. Curtsying quickly, you darted out of the study, racing down the steps. “Goodbye, my lord.” 

You hadn’t intended on seeing him here, of all places. You were surprised, in truth, that Anthony still frequented the library. It was gorgeous, and even though you were no student, the librarian still allowed you to frequent the aisles from time to time. You could be found here in truth, just sitting, enjoying the silence. The solitude. 

When you saw his ever familiar frame and you jumped, hiding behind an endcap in the hopes he’d missed you. You groaned when he’d called out your name, squeezing your eyes shut. He whispered your name again, and you took a deep breath, stepping out to face the man you’d been avoiding. 

“Lord Bridgerton, how wonderful to see you.” 

“I would say the same-” He took his hat off, smirking. “But it seems you have been avoiding me as of late.” 

“I do not know what you mean.” You scoffed, walking past him, desperate to escape. “If you’ll excuse me-” 

“Why?” He asked, following after you. “You have not been attending our dinners.” 

“I haven’t been feeling well.” 

“Oh?” He frowned, stepping in front of you. Reaching up, he placed the back of his hand on your forehead, checking your temperature. Your eyes widened, and you stepped around him. He squinted, watching you with interest. “You seem well.”

“I am.” You nodded. “I am now.” He kept looking at you, kept trying to understand you. “Can you stop staring at me?” Your cheeks felt hot. “It is unbecoming.” 

“I have missed you.” He whispered. “May I call on you?” 

You scoffed. “Call on me? Anthony, you have been in my home more times than I care to count. You do not need to call on me.” 

“I know.” His hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “I will see you tomorrow, then?” 

“Anthony…” Your eyes trailed down to his hand, which was still holding your wrist. “I’m afraid I have the time reserved.” 

“Reserved?” He tilted his head, voice becoming hostile. “Reserved for what?” 

“For whom.” You corrected, hating that this conversation was occurring, in public, no less. “It is for Lord Goring.” 

“Lord Goring?” Anthony yelled, drawing the attention of the many students strewn throughout the hall. “Lord Goring? That man is twice your age-”

“His wife recently died, and he is kind.” You hissed. “We are going on a promenade.” Anthony stood before you, fuming silently. You frowned, curtsying quickly. “Goodbye, Lord Bridgerton.”

You’d practically flown down the steps, you walking pace closer to a light run. You hadn’t bothered to look behind you, too scared that Anthony would be there, following after you. 

“Miss Kinsley!”

Of course, he had followed you. You kept your pace, refusing to give in and turn around. 

“Miss Kinsley!” You gasped, turning to your side to see Anthony following after you in his carriage. The many lords and ladies walking on the street gasped, staring at the couple. “Let me bring you home, please.” 

“That would be most improper, my lord.” You hissed, eyes wide. “I enjoy a nice walk.” 

“As do I.” Anthony was not giving up. “If you like, I can escort you home.” 

You glared, crossing your arms. “You are the most arrogant, outlandish, pig-headed-” 

“Are you quite finished?” He raised an eyebrow. “Mother is expecting me for luncheon.” 

You wanted to scream. Gathering your skirts in your hands, you climbed into the carriage, shutting the door behind you harshly. “I cannot stand you.” 

“Funny enough, I cannot stand you either.” He looked thoroughly entertained. “Yet here I am…” 

“Here you are.” You were now hugging yourself, knee bouncing nervously. And Anthony… he had not stopped staring at you, watching you with a fascination you had never seen before. “Stop that.” 

“Stop what?” His voice was soft. 

“Staring at me with such a-” You met his eyes, voice going weak. “Turn your eyes away from me if you can.” 

“That is the problem.” He leaned forward, whispering. “I do not think that’s possible.”

“Why?” You wished the carriage could go faster. “Is there something on my face that you have yet to tell me?” 

“Can I not admire you?” He smiled. “You are beautiful.” 

You gasped. “Do not say such things.” 

“It is true.” His smile had not left his face. “I am not a fool.” 

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow, a small laugh leaving you before you could think.

“Do you believe me to be a fool?” When you did not answer, he smirked. “I know why you have been avoiding me, Miss Kinsley.” 

“Do tell.” 

The ever-familiar scene of your two houses came into view as the carriage slowed, Anthony’s voice confident. “You have fallen in love with me.” 

“You are wrong.” You didn’t know what you wanted to do: smack him or kiss him. “I have not fallen in love with you.” 

He laughed, holding your hand as you descended the carriage steps. “Whatever you say, my love.” 

“My love?” You rolled your eyes, smiling kindly at the servants you passed as you walked through the Bridgerton’s house. “I am not your-” Your eyes widened as Anthony led you into the parlor, the entirety of his family present. “Anthony?” 

Anthony brought you into the middle of the room, hooking his arm through yours. “I have an announcement.” 

Eloise peeked out from behind her book, grinning when she saw you. “Miss Kinsley!” 

Violet stood beside Francesca, who was currently playing the piano forte. “What is the announcement, dear?” 

“Miss Kinsley and I are to be wed.” The room erupted into chaos, all congratulating you while you stared at Anthony, frozen in shock. He leaned down, whispering in your ear. “I may have forgotten a rather important detail.” 

You laughed. “I believe you may have.” 

“Forgive me.” Lowering himself to one knee, he held your hands delicately in his, eyes desperately staring into yours. “Miss Kinsley, will you do me the honor of-” 

“Yes.” You nodded, eyes wide with tears. You leaned down, kissing his cheek. “Anthony, you must know that I’ve loved you for quite some time.” 

He stood, wrapping an arm around your waist. “You must know something as well.” 

You smiled. “And what is that?” 

“I have loved you for quite some time as well.” 

Violet was simply sobbing as she watched the two interact. “Anthony, you must give her your father’s ring.” Pulling the delicate thing off her finger, she placed it in Anthony’s palm, tears streaming down her face. “I always wished- Your mother and I wanted this for- Oh!” She sobbed again, pulling you both into a strong hug. “I am overjoyed!” 

Eloise laughed as you silently begged her for help. “I told you you were family, dear sister.” 

“They will be wondering where I am, Anthony.” You looked nervously toward the door. “Now that we are engaged, they will not allow this sort of-” 

“You are quite tense, my love.” He laughed, placing one hand on your waist, the other on your cheek. “Our wedding is in three days time, surely they will not mind-” 

“My father now believes that every time we have been alone before this was-” Your cheeks felt hot. “Was an attempt on your part to seduce me.” Anthony laughed, actually laughed at your statement. You, on the other hand, did not find this situation remotely as humorous. “It is not amusing in the slightest, Anthony.” 

“I find it amusing.” He whispered, leaning down until his nose nudged yours. “May I kiss you?” 

“You kissed me when I entered your office.” You raised an eyebrow. “Are you so desperate-” You gasped as Anthony pulled you impossibly close. 

“I have a whole lifetime to remedy, for delaying the inevitable, for keeping us apart.” His lips brushed against yours as he spoke. “Do you not enjoy it, kissing?” 

You scoffed. “I never said that-” 

“Good.” He smiled. 

“But yo-” Your eyes fluttered shut, his lips colliding against yours passionately. It seemed a whole eternity passed before either of you let go, your breath heavy as you parted. “You interrupted me.” 

“I am sorry.” 

You shrugged, kissing the corner of his mouth. “As long as you promise to interrupt me as you just did for the rest of our lives…” Your voice was warm, full of adoration for your future husband. “Then I do not mind.” 

“Well then,” He grinned, eyes falling to your lips once more. “Your wish is my command, Lady Bridgerton.” 

taglist: @esmereldafloyd @linnygirl09

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Reading Tolkien’s annotated translation of Beowulf, and learning all kinds of things about LOTR and the Silm from it!

First:

Leave here your warlike shields [from Beowulf]

[Tolkien’s commentary; bold mine:] Note the prohibition of weapons or accoutrements of battle in the hall. To walk in with spear and shield was like walking in nowadays with your hat on. The basis of these rules was of course fear and prudence among the ever-present dangers of a heroic age, but they were made part of the ritual, of good manners. Compare the prohibition against drawing a sword in the officers’ mess. Swords of course also were dangerous; but they were evidently regarded as part of a knight’s attire, and he would not in any case be willing to lay aside his sword, a thing of great cost and often an heirloom.

This gives me some perspective around Tolkien’s probable intended tone for the moment in Meduseld in The Two Towers where Aragon strongly protests against being told to leave Andúril (a sword of very great value and ancientry, and very much an heirloom) with the door-warden. From a contemporary perspective it’s easy to read it as Aragorn being unnecessarily prideful and combative, but this passage strongly indicates that Tolkien intends it to be Théoden who is being unreasonable in that event, an indication - along with many others in the scene, prior to Gandalf dislodging Saruman’s influence - that Théoden is being discourteous and behaving in a manner unworthy of a king who is recieving heroes offering aid. (The fact of Meduseld being a ‘golden hall’ like famous Heorot in Beowulf may be deliberate to strengthen the parallel.)

Second (immediately following the above commentary):

But against this danger [from swords] very severe laws existed protecting the ‘peace’ of a king’s hall. It was death in Scandanavia to cause a brawl in the king’s hall. Among the laws of the West Saxon king Ine is found: ‘If any man fight in the king’s house, he shall forfeit all his estate, and it shall be for the king to judge whether he be put to death or not.’

This adds context to the incident in the story of Túrin in The Silmarillion where Saeros taunts Túrin in Menegroth and Túrin responds by throwing a heavy drinking-vessel at him and injuring him (it’s indicated the injury is serious, so I’d take it along the lines of him giving him a broken nose and knocking out some teeth.) It is stated in at least some versions of the story that death is the punishment for drawing weapons in the king’s hall, in line with the historical customs mentioned here. This gives a further emphasis that what actually happens - Túrin is not punished at all and Mablung strongly reprimands Saeros for provoking him - illustrates that Túrin is, Saeros’ behaviour notwithstanding, in very high favour in Menegroth. (Saeros as the king’s counsellor is also in roughly the same position as Unferth in Beowulf, who taunts the titular character - Beowulf responds heatedly but without violence. Tolkien may be setting up a deliberate contrast here.)

Third:

The word hádor is an adjective meaning ‘clear, bright’…it is almost always found in reference to the sky (or the sun or stars). But that association is in description of brightness…

This was one a lightbulb moment: oh, in the name of Hador Goldenhead (the ancestor of Húrin, Túrin, and Tuor in The Silmarillion), ‘Goldenhead’ isn’t an additional name/epessë so much as it’s a glossed translation of ‘Hador’! The guy with bright, golden hair.

Fourth: Going back to the Rohirrim - Edoras, the name of their capital city/royal court, is basically just the Old English for ‘courts’:

under was very frequently used in describing position within, or movement to within, a confined space, especially of enclosures or prisons, ‘within four walls’. Cf. in under eoderas (eoderas being the outer fences of the courts), ‘in amid the courts’….‘eoder’ means both ‘fence (protection)’ and ‘fenced enclosure, a court’.

I’m also learning a lot about Beowulf - Tolkien’s notes are clarifying a lot of tone and nuances, not to mention the political/diplomatic relationships between the different kingdoms, which were confusing me - but it’s amazing how much it reveals about ways that Tolkien’s knowledge informed his legendarium!

[nikitallymessy]

how do people feel about you?

ᯓ★ introduction: This was a quick reading I did for practice with my Thoth deck :p. For when you want to know how others feel about you but don't want to ask them ... hehe

ᯓ★ reminder: this is a general reading made for entertainment purposes, so please take what resonates and leave what doesn't ^_^

ᯓ★ how to pick a pile: close your eyes, take a deep breath, and choose the picture to which your eyes are drawn to.

pile 1 | pile 2 | pile 3

PILE 1 :

five of disks, two of swords, and eight of disks

With pile one, I feel that people see you as someone who has gone through many lessons given to us by life. They see you as a wise soul that has been through so much and is anxious to be hurt again by the harsh lessons given to us. But with this, you're stronger and wiser than most, they see you as someone who is kind of like a wise old man, (kinda like the hermit!). I'm also seeing that people saw you as financially unstable before? but now you're financially secure and you're smart with your money.

keywords: anxious, unstable, resolved, unselfishness, prudence

──── ★ ──────── ★ ──────── ★ ──────

PILE 2 :

ace of wands, the æon, and the magus

Here, I'm seeing that people feel that you have such a strong, fiery presence in life. It feels as though you're a natural-born leader, that people follow you just because of your aura. I see that they also feel that you're very charismatic and intelligent with the magus card. You could be a very creative person with the ace of wands. They see you as someone who is sure in all of their actions and choices,

If you feel drawn to pile 3, it may also be a reading that can resonate with you :)

keywords: force, strength, leader, charismatic

──── ★ ──────── ★ ──────── ★ ──────

PILE 3 :

three of wands, prince of wands, and queen of disks

I'm seeing here with the three of wands and the queen of disks that people feel that you're a very prideful person, like you know your worth. It feels as though people see you as a very successful person, someone who has their life together and is embodying that untouchable vibe. I'm seeing like, pure confidence, you're someone who people look up to. The prince of wands is showing me that they feel like you don't let anyone get in your way. Maybe you have a RBF? Or you don't talk much to people you're not close with. Again, with the queen of disks, you seem like someone who people close to you can go to because of your nurturing and dependable nature.

keywords: untouchable, pride, admirable, confident

[22ayla21]

Echoes of the Past in the Present

Watching his middle daughter train with her eldest son, Mydei realizes that his mother, Gorgo, left her legacy not in him, but in her granddaughter.

From the Author: While I was writing this, I was choking on my own tears...

Mydei looked at his middle daughter for a long time, watching her fight with a wooden sword against her older brother. He had long known that the girl took after him: bold, stubborn, fearless. But now, in these moments, something about her especially reminded him of the person he once knew best.

His mother.

Gorgo was not just a great warrior. She was the person who tempered his spirit, made him who he is. She combined cold prudence, unbending will and deep justice. Mydei always knew that he had inherited a lot from her, but now he realized that her true heir was not him. It was his daughter.

When the girl deftly dodged her brother's blow, then quickly seized the initiative and, striking his side with a wooden blade, forced him to admit defeat, something in Mydei's chest ached. That look - burning with excitement, self-confidence, even a slight smirk on her face - that was his mother.

He remembered how he once stood before her, holding his first sword in his hands, how she watched his training with the same expression on her face, appraisingly and at the same time with quiet pride. He remembered how she taught him not just to fight, but to understand the very meaning of battle. And now he saw it in his daughter's eyes.

And then something changed.

The warm sunlight suddenly softened a little, as if time had slowed. And then a figure, painfully familiar but not existing in this world, appeared behind his daughter.

Gorgo.

She looked at her granddaughter with the same light in her eyes that she had once looked at him. The same confidence, the same pride. A small smirk touched her lips as she reached out and placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder.

Mydei froze. He felt his heart squeeze with something deep, ancient, something he could not explain.

His mother was here again. Not just in his daughter’s blood. The real one.

She looked straight at him, and in that look he could read everything – pride for him, for his granddaughter, for the legacy she had left. For a moment, he was that boy again, desperately trying to catch up with his great sire.

But he was no longer a boy. He was a man. Father.

When he blinked, Gorgo's spirit was gone. Only his daughter remained, turning to him with the same cheeky grin.

- You're smiling, - his wife said quietly, touching his shoulder. Mydei was indeed smiling.

In that moment, he knew: his mother was alive. Not in her memories. But in her spirit, in her blood, in the fighting flame that now burned within his daughter.

[m0chisenpai]

Louis x reader x Armand

The reader is a witch and she meets Armand and Louis and Claudia when going to watch a vampire play. They are mesmerized by her enchanting presence, wondering what and who she is

superstitious

˚｡⋆ louis de pointe du lac x black!fem!reader x armand

˚｡⋆ platonic!claudia x black!fem!reader

in which the missing piece fills the gaps

author note: We're gonna play with the idea that Louis has somewhat integrated into coven life

Another night of plays. And a new role for Claudia. A nod to the past, Claudia plays the maid to Marie Antoinette who witnesses both affairs and murders of the king and queen.

The role is silent, but it is better than falling out a window every singe night in that godforsaken blue dress. At least she could be a woman for the many nights to come. She'll give Louis that little credit due.

As always, Louis assumes his usual spot, watching his sister perform while his companion sits above. There is peace between all three. And at the same time, a feeling of lonesome resides. Like there is something missing. He assumed Madeline would fill it, a fledgling that he felt such pride and dare say love.

But the loneliness remained. She could feel it in him. But Louis would brush her curious gaze aside.

Until that evening when she enters.

Armand smells her before she even steps foot into the theatre. It is rich, it is new. It almost smells familiar of his previous years abroad. Whoever is here, their blood sings to his dead heart. It begs for him to consume it, to be bathed in it.

Had an ancient one found their way back? He looks down into the seats. Soldiers, husbands and wives, students fill the house. But he sees nothing.

Louis catches Armand's gaze, he sees his gaze, 'what is it?'

'Something is here. An ancient thing or being. I do not know what it is. But there is power in it.'

His gaze shifts to Medline, 'keep watch over yourself and your companion.'

"One ticket please!" The dressed up vampire hands the young woman her ticket which she holds between gloved hands. She felt out of place in her softer colors against the dark theatre, but she always did stick out. Perhaps the vampire assumed her to be a child, she certainly exuded such child like excitement as she skipped into the theatre

"Vampires pretending to be humans pretending to be vampires," you whisper to yourself in awe finding your seat. "How dramatic, Prudence was right. But when is she never?"

The act begins. Murder marks the end of all the scenes and your laughter is like a bell in the vampires ears. Armand searched but can not find you nor can Louis pinpoint your presence. But a magnetizing feeling washes over their bodies.

Then the final act happens. The vampire troupe feast on the woman and silence fills the theatre. But you stand in loud applause shouting your praise in French. And it is as though the world ends when all three look upon you. Even though the applause thunders over your praise, they hear it so loudly.

How your eyes shimmer in praise, how your pearly white smile lights the room. Claudia freezes with the blood dripping along her lips. Trying to remember your face as the curtains pull shut. Armand watches as you look up, nodding your head giving your applause to him now.

But Louis, oh he wants you then and there. But the crowd keeps him from meeting you in the aisles as you quickly move out.

You may appreciate the arts, but you know not to engage those much farther up the food chain. Especially without the protection of your mother and sisters.

"Oh sisters it was wondrous as you said!" You whisper in awe as you tie your scarf looking in to the mirror of your flat. Though it is not your reflection that stares back, but fragmented visions of each one of your sisters.

"Did I not tell you it was a delight, though in their early days they were more Shakespearean. I suppose they choose to cater to their English crowd now."

"And times are changing sister dear. Some of us have not graced this land as long as you have," you smirk as she gasps at your retort.

"And did you see the leader? Is he not handsome!" Your fellow sister Urydice exclaims appearing from the lower part of the mirror. Her milky white gaze grounds you as she press forward closer.

"He was..beautiful." you shyly whisper and the girl squeals.

"Oh you must approach them! you must! if not for you then for romance my sister!" She was always the most romantic of you all. Each of your sisters had their areas of the arts they adored. And your dear sister favored love above all. She dabbled in charms of love, predicting marriages, helping restore some and even blessing marriages.

"Enough girls return to your chambers."

"Yes Mother." You whisper your goodbyes to all the girls until she sits in front. Your leader, the mother of your group. She is old and wise from the many lifetimes she has survived, but no age touches her complexion. Her hair large and thick is braided back and you realize how much you miss your mother.

You were the youngest of your sisterhood. This would be your third year adjusting to being apart from the group. she could tell it was hitting you the hardest, but you desired to show her you were worthy of bearing her mark. You felt a desire to prove you could be just as strong as her daughters.

"My darling," she whispers with a smile on her lips "I see you are adjusting well to the city of love." You quickly nod, folding your hands tight in your lap. "Be safe. These vampires hold great power. And they have numbers. Until we have arrived you are to not engage them, please my dear."

"Yes mother," you bow your head and press a kiss to your pointer and middle finger pressing it to the glass. And as soon as she does the same all that is left is your reflection.

You should listen to her, but you don't. You ponder and mull over the many protection casts that could offer you a chance to possibly approach. But in the end you toss any ideas aside and blow all the candles out and raise a hand to dim the lamps as well.

And as you shed your robe to slip into your bed. The ruby eyes that watch from your balcony disappear into the night.

That next night you sit at a cafe writing letters to your scattered sisters. Some in English, three in French and the one in Italian you work on slowly, whispering your thoughts to yourself.

"You're not from here ma'am? Don't hear Italian around here too often," the young girl sitting in front of you startles you, but you keep your face neutral. The younger ones are far more dangerous. Quick tempered, more fierce.

But you remind yourself you are in the public eye. There is not much she could do now.

You smile at her and shake your head. "No, I am not. But Italy is not my home unfortunately." You sip from your glass of coffee. "I must say you are an exceptional actress. The breath was taken right out of me, especially at the end."

"Thank you, years of practice led me here."

"From...America?" you guess, no you know.

Her eyes widen as does her smile, "how'd you know?"

"Southern accent. Heard it growing up when I was a bit younger than you, course till we moved and such."

"Claudia, what'd I tell you bout disturbing folks?"

You hate to admit how the man who joins you both at the table makes your eyes widen. The way he places his hand on the back of her chair, appearing from the entrance inside the cafe to sit beside her. Your cheeks feel hot as his gaze settles upon you. You seem to have some affect as well because he is no longer chiding at the girl.

"No, she is fine sir. Just some simple conversation is all" you tilt your head, "your daughter I am assuming?"

"Ah well...yes" he fumbles his words. "Lost her mother and wound up here for some time."

"How sweet," you smile at the two now bundling your letters to drop at the post hoping the tremble of your hand is unnoticeable. "I should be taking my leave now. It was lovely to speak to you both."

"Claudia," she quickly shakes your hand when you step to her.

"Louis."

They wish you could stay. But you toss the necessary amount by your cup and leave the two behind to watch you walk down the stony path. You move slowly, hoping the urgency in your leaving goes unnoticed. Where two are gathered surely a secret third will try and interceded. To make you a meal.

One night turns into two, then three when you return again it has been a challenging week. A week of you trying to avoid that theatre, but they call out to you in the night. "Come, come to us." It's as though they sit by your windows whispering, begging for you. But the leader requests your presence tonight.

One of the women leads you to where he sits. The only empty seat beside him is where you situate yourself.

"When did he turn you?"

"Don't have a creator." You whisper, eyes remaining on the stage. They flicker to Louis who looks up, giving you a smile which you quickly return along with a small wave.

"You know we are not human, yet you yourself are not one of us," now his head turns to look at you. "But you do not smell mortal. And your presence...it is unusual."

"I smell?"

"Nothing like the boys of war I can assure you, it is not unwelcoming" Armand can not help the smallest of smiles when he hears your sigh of relief. "But I must ask you again. What are you if not human?"

You hesitate, remembering the words of your mother. "We are not human. In the past humans maddened by thoughts of God and Satan killed us one by one. They stopped it from being publicized but they still hunt us to this day running us into the shadows of the night and to all corners of this world."

"You are a witch?"

"We refrain from calling ourselves that," your hand rests against a necklace. The very one all of you share engraved with an ancient sigil, the metal untouched by the years you have owned it. "We are scattered across the world to avoid any more unnecessary murders."

You pause to clap for Claudia, smiling as she grins up at you at the end of her act.

"Will you be in France for long?" Armand asks once you sit back down.

"I would like to be. Rome was for a moment. And I am not sure I wish to return again to Greece, though I miss the waters." Armand returns his gaze down to Claudia and Louis both steal glances at him.

"If you stay here, I can gurantee your safety."

Claudia adores you and spends any moment she can to hear about your travels. Taking you to Madeline's shop where the young fledgling happily dresses and styles you and around the city while Louis walks around the city with you. Taking shots of you facing the moonlight or along the river. They are some of his best work.

Armand shows you artwork from the world. And some of his older works of plays dating back to the theatre's founding days.

Each of them can not help but feel you fill the gap in their hearts.

They feel dizzy just being in the midst of your presence.

Then one night, as you sit atop Armand's lap. Louis' hand settles at the back of your neck, squeezing it gently to pull your head to look up at him. Your bare chest heaves as Armand lays kisses upon it. There is something electric in the air, something magical in your eyes.

The candles burn brighter with each kiss. Flickering with your breathing, as though they are breathing with you.

"Stay with us," his voice a whisper. Your eyes remain on his. He whispers it again, "join us."

Your mothers words are drowned from the two. Their warnings are nothing but a fly in your ear which you swat away.

"Yes, please." Armand lets a soft hiss as he bites into the juncture of your neck while Louis bites into the other side. And it is like liquid fire fills your vein and fills theirs.

The candles flicker out at that very moment.

It is as though you are bonded to them in that moment.

Theirs for an eternity.