#it was going to go to benedict because it also has that sense of wonder that the player could change the world with his words alone | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

targaryenluvs · 10 months

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Hi, how are you? Could you make a request for Anthony Bridgerton 🙈 please.

I was thinking something along the lines of Penelope and Colin. When Colin says he would never court Penelope. But in this case Anthony tells Benedict that he would never court reader. And Benedict tells him that he will be the one to woo her. Sad ending or happy ending. I leave it in your hands 🤗✨.

Have a good week ✨ thank you.

i love this, and benedict bridgerton <3

nothing better

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader, anthony bridgerton x fem!reader (platonic)

summary: benedict has loved you for so long, but he always assumed you’d want anthony and he wanted you. but when the opportunity presents itself to be with you he dives headfirst.

warnings: swearing, kisses??

a/n: hope you like itttt, it might be a little short but quality over quantity???: i love benedict ugh can’t wait for his season

the party was insufferable.

benedict wanted nothing more than to be at home, drawing, you specifically.

the day you learned of his talent you’d praised him every day for it. and you’d been pestering him for oh so long to draw your portrait but he always politely declined. believing a professional to be more accurate than himself but he honestly believed that he, nor any other, could incorporate all of your beauty in one sketch.

and he was scared of messing it up, and he also wondered what his brother would think.

anthony. smart, handsome, eligible, viscount anthony bridgerton.

the one you’d marry.

or so it seemed to everyone as the two of you danced hand in hand. everyone’s eyes were on the two of you as you practically glided across the floor. as the music slowed and the couples dispersed he found himself holding his breath as you came towards him.

“anthony is terrible to dance with, he keeps blaming me for stepping on his feet but he moves so slow at times, he’s always looking off into the distance.” you laughed as benedict smiled, “i promise you y/n, a dance with me will leave you more than well satisfied.” benedict teased as you gasped, “benedict bridgerton! the scandalous man you are.” as you laughed he couldn’t help but admire you. your hair was up with only two strands in the front, curled. a sweet tiara in the middle of your head, a gorgeous baby pink dress and and equally gorgeous owner.

“you look-”

“like a cake? a biscuit? a rose perhaps?” you joked.

“i was going to say breathtaking. you look, breathtaking, y/n. no one else here can compare.” he spoke in awe.

your eyes flickered to his, god he looked amazing. but he was probably only saying this to be nice right? his sisters friend, daphnes other half. nothing more, he grew up with you, saw you as a sister.

he wondered if you’d return the compliment, or thank him, or just smile and nod. god he said wanted more than a nod. you looked untouchable. and the way you looked at him, benedict was lost. not only in your eyes but in his head and heart. he sees you dance and talk to numerous respectable men every day. you smile and laugh, completely polite. but then you look at him, with those beautiful brown eyes and he looses all trains of thought. and as respectful as those other men are, he could never put himself in the same category as them.

because the thoughts that he didn’t loose, were truly inappropriate.

the heavy footsteps from behind you snapped the two of you out of the trance as anthony approached. “brother, lady y/n.” he smiled as you smiled back. “i’ll leave you two be.”

“are you alright brother?”

he didn’t mean to snap. the words just spilled out.

“are you going to court her or not?”

anthony’s brows furrowed as he was taken aback by his brothers direct manner, all sense of the usual playfulness was lost. “who? y/n? no of course not. i would never dream of courting y/n l/n. she’s like a sister to me.”

“then why do you dance with her so? take her out so often, promenade with her? for what? my god everyone thinks the two you are courting.” anthony released a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

he’d only been having fun with a friend. it was so refreshing to be able to talk to someone who didn’t wonder what the viscount was up to, who he was with, when he was going to marry. y/n eased his tensions and she the best friend he’d never had, she made him feel like a young boy again, which anthony had all but forgotten the feeling of.

“benedict, it was not my intention this i promise you brother. i know how much you love and if i led you or anyone else to believe our relationship was anything besides familial love and companionship than i truly apologise. you need to let her know before it’s too late.”

benedict felt his heart lurch at the idea of finally being with you. and with anthony’s blessing and urging him along he was off to find you.

the air was cold, but anything was better than that stuffy ballroom inside. gods you couldn’t wait for the season to be over. it was only your first, same as the diamond of the season, also known as your best friend daphne bridgerton but all the cakes, gossip, drama and fake smiles? you’d had enough to last forever. the only problem with the season being over was that you’d most likely be travelling to your country estate. which meant that you’d be spending time with your extended family rather than the family besides your own that you wanted to be with.

the person you wanted to be with.

“y/n! there you are.” benedict shouted as he bent over, catching his breath. even slightly sweaty and disheveled benedict was a god in your eyes, no one inside could even come close.

“ben, come sit!” you patted the swing next to you as he gladly sat down, the air was a refreshing after the long night he’d had, and your smiling face was enough for his heart to race again.

“y/n, as much as i’d like to sit and swing with you i have to tell you something, it’s urgent.” he spoke softly. the moon was bright, the air cold and benedict had a soft glow of light on his right side. his voice could so easily lull you to sleep out here as it had done so many times before but his eyes were alert, so you smiled again and nodded, “continue.”

“y/n, i’ve known you for so long. and i’ve- i’ve never been able to tell you how i truly feel about you. i always thought anthony had your eye and”

“anthony?!” you screeched as benedict hushed you with a hand over your mouth. “sweetheart you can’t be so loud out here, wouldn’t want someone to come across us now would we?” he joked as his eyes crinkled at the edges, now there’s the benedict you knew. “ben, i’ve never had romantic feelings for anthony, hes always been a brother to me. besides i’ve had my eye on another bridgerton for a long time.”

“oh? and who could that be?” benedict was praying to every god he could conjure in his head. me. me. me. let it be me please.

“you.”

he couldn’t help himself as he kissed you, he’d waited far too long for it.

and it was so worth it.

everything he couldn’t even begin to express with words, he put into the kiss, your first of many. “i love you. i love you y/n l/n and i can only pray you love me a quarter as much. you are everything i’ve ever wanted, and i have you now. you were family before but now? youre officially a bridgerton, we should throw a parade.” benedict laughed as you smacked his arm, “finally! my plan to marry daphne has been thrown into motion!”

“excuse me?” daphne shouted as yourself and benedict leaned into eachother, laughing up a storm.

there was nothing that could compare to the man infront of you.

nothing better.

#benedict bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x fem!reader #benedict bridgerton x y/n

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dairymistress05 · 4 months

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Colin as a character has been my favourite since Season 1 for so many reasons, but it was recently brought to my attention that he takes the emotions and opinions of women seriously, which is such a contrast to the other men on the show.

I can’t remember who the creator on TikTok was that I first heard this mentioned but it has been a bit of a lightbulb since. This is a long one so bear with me but I have some thoughts…

Example: Season 1 The Duel…

Anthony has decided, and honestly it’s rather infuriating how he treats Daphne and refuses to listen to her. Sends her to bed like a child. Then Benedict is with him and he just seems to implicitly follow and support him.

When Colin is informed he is shown to be bringing a rather inebriated Violet home, which is sweet in and of itself but also, his adorable humour is also a brief highlight “Good God, did someone die?” Which I loved.

But then, He LISTENS to Daphne. This is what I hadn’t ruminated on until recently, because quite frankly it’s so true to his character and something that I guess I had just come to expect of Colin.

Yes, he tries to dissuade her and He begins with the expected lines about dishonour and leaving the men to their matters, but when she speaks He Listens. He pays attention, he does not disregard her and it’s precisely because he listens that she is able to go and speak with the Duke.

Why is this significant? Well because his interaction with the Daphne in the scene in Anthony’s study feels genuine. Colin does not treat her “lesser” or ignore her. This is important and is in direct contrast to a scene Daphne has with Anthony.

Earlier in the season there is an exchange where Anthony says he would have acted differently if Daphne had told him about Berbrooke. She calls him out on his dismissal of her feelings “because” she is a woman and doesn’t believe that he would have believed her, and honestly I agree. However, I would suspect that No One would say the same of Colin. In every interaction with the women in his life, he seems to truly listen and to care about their thoughts and opinions.

Now before anyone comes at me in defence of Anthony, (Yes I know, it was the time period) and I also say, this is not about Anthony but about how even in the smallest of details the show and writers have seemed set Colin apart.

He listens to his sisters/mother and not in a patronising or dismissive way, not in an obligatory way either. He even has what could be seen as an inappropriate friendship with Pen, which for whatever reason, has gone unnoticed or ignored throughout the years.

So when it comes to spending time with her in Season 3, enjoying her company and truly connecting with her I would venture to say that the relationships he has with his mother/sisters might be a big factor in why he didn’t know how to/couldn’t contextualise his feelings.

He has had emotional relationships with women and values them highly so this is not seen as something separate in his mind

Until. The. Kiss.

Because that is the ONE thing that can differentiate his relationship with Pen from ALL other female relationships. No wonder he fell so hard,those feelings were always there, it just wasn’t until that physical intimacy that it all made sense.

Lastly I think it is all of this, Colin’s emotional intelligence, that makes his “persona” at the beginning of Season 3 seem so out of place. When Penelope (his arguably most cherished female relationship) didn’t reply to his letters he seemed to completely lose himself.

#bridgerton #romancing mister bridgerton #polin #bridgerton season 3 #colin x penelope

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vidavalor · 3 months

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Thank you so much for all your wonderful metas - I enjoy them a great deal. I hope I am not going over old ground here, but I have just finished your defence of Aziraphale's choice (which I agree with 100%) and it has prompted me to ask your opinion of the following:

Having witnessed the Metatron impose upon Aziraphale's good will and impeccable manners and endless sense of obligation with a sodding coffee, WHY did Crowley allow the angel to leave with this wily, manipulative being?

Now, admittedly, Crowley did get to his feet and follow them briefly (after being on the receiving end of that terrifyingly pointed glare from the Metatron) but is immediately distracted by Muriel and thoughts of breakfast with Aziraphale.

This is the same demon who is never still. Always wary, always on guard, always patrolling. Yet, after that ridiculous coffee conversation, after Aziraphale looks to him for direction ("Ummm.."), after that glare, he just waves the angel off on his way for a chinwag.

I actually wrote the scene out so that I could "see" it differently, but it did not help me come to any conclusions.

I would LOVE to know what you think.

Sorry. I wittered on a bit there. 😊

Hi @vernajarrett 💕 Thanks for reading & asking! I'm happy to chat about what I think is going on in the moment Crowley acts like a pod person and Derek Jacobi's character gets all that Big Damn Villain Music in the score. I've got the coffee brewing. Oat milk and a dash hefty jigger of almond syrup? 😜

To answer why Crowley is acting so massively weird during the part of 2.06 that you mentioned, we have to start a little before it with the arrival of the last visitor to the bookshop in S2:

a character played by Derek Jacobi:

When the last new character to arrive at the bookshop door in S2 first arrives, we are down to six other characters in the shop. Five of them-- Aziraphale, Muriel, Michael, Uriel and Saraqael-- are angels and the sixth character-- Crowley-- is a demon. Upon the arrival of Derek Jacobi's character, all five of the angels fail to recognize this person. This is a true shock to us because we think we know who this is, right? That's The Metatron.

We know what The Metatron looks like; we've seen his head quite dramatically huge and in our face on several occasions. We feel qualified to say that if Sir Derek Jacobi shows up it must mean that we're looking at The Metatron. What we tend to ignore is... well, everything else that happens here lol... all of which says we are incorrect about this.

First off? All of this is just (entertainingly) weird: The Metatron is a floating head who thinks himself above humanity but he's here now in a body on Whickber Street. He abhors food but he's stopped to get a coffee at the shop and have a chat with Nina. We first spotted him outside by Mrs. Sandwich in line-- is there a more incongruous place you would expect to see The Metatron than that? lol. It makes it very engaging to watch but these are also the first clues to suggest that something really odd is afoot here and when this character goes inside the bookshop, we really get that sense hammered home by the fact that this being we thought we had correctly identified really easily is unrecognizable-- to not one, not two, but five characters on our show, all of whom should instantly know exactly who this person is.

It's at this point that I'll mention that we technically still do not know who plays Satan on Good Omens. The first time he appears, he possesses Crowley by speaking to him using the voice of Freddie Mercury-- so, Satan is being played by a voice actor doing Satan-as-Freddie-Mercury. The second time he appears-- in 1.06-- he there for Adam, who is eleven years old at the time. Satan appears as a gigantic, cartoonish, cliched-red-with-horns-and-hoofs monster, voiced by Benedict Cumberbatch. It is completely at odds with how GO usually does its more horrific and frightening elements. You could argue that Satan appears this way in 1.06 because it's how he would appear to Adam-- to an eleven year old boy. Everyone sees Satan as Adam sees Satan when Satan comes for Adam. A parallel to that would then be the arrival of the character played by Derek Jacobi in 2.06.

Why can't these five angels identify the person who just arrived?

It has to be because they're angels. It's the only thing Aziraphale, Michael, Uriel, Muriel and Saraqael all have in common.

They can't recognize the being at the door because they're angels; meaning: they're not familiars of The Devil.

This is not The Metatron. This is Satan:

You might notice that one of the angels-- Saraqael-- eventually catches on. What they do is another huge clue to who this is. If Saraqael's realization was that this must be The Metatron, they would have spoken up and said that they recognized him, if only to suck up to the boss. But they do not so that is not their realization...

Instead, they don't say a word. They look afraid, look Up, fold their hands together and start to pray. Since this being is obviously one of them and not human-- based on what he said to Michael upon his arrival-- Saraqael has figured out that if they, Michael, Uriel, Muriel and Aziraphale all cannot recognize him, it has to be because this is Satan.

Saraqael doesn't tell anyone else what they've figured out. They just start praying in case it's their number that's up today. The irony of all of this, of course, is that three of these angels who can't recognize the face of evil-- Michael, Uriel and Saraqael-- are honestly pretty garbage people themselves and also that there's not much of a difference in level of evil between The Metatron and Satan. But, technically, Michael, Uriel and Saraqael are angels, just as Muriel and Aziraphale are angels. All it really means in this case, though, is that they've never been thrown to Hell and, because of that fact, they cannot recognize Satan. (It also helps to illustrate how being cast to Hell is political and doesn't really have much to do with whether or not you're a terrible person. It's just who has gotten caught while getting in The Metatron's way.)

Demons can recognize Satan, though. The problem is that they also can be possessed by Satan and influenced into not even knowing he's there... which is what starts happening to Crowley upon the arrival of Satan in the bookshop.

Satan can make Crowley's words sound natural and of Crowley's own volition-- and then make it so that Crowley doesn't even remember saying them. This is why Crowley is acting weird when "The Metatron" is in the same room with him in 2.06.

We've seen something like this a bit when Crowley put Sister Mary in a trance so he and Aziraphale could ask her questions back in S1. Sister Mary really looked like she was in a trance and that's because it wasn't really necessary for either Aziraphale or Crowley to instruct her to act any differently. They were the only other ones around and they weren't manipulating Sister Mary's behavior in an attempt to use her to influence other people-- they were only seeking information from her. How she acted when giving them that information wasn't something they were terribly concerned with because it didn't really matter.

When they had all the information they thought she possessed, Aziraphale brought her out of the trance by telling her that she was now awake and had just had a dream of whatever she liked best. As he and Crowley are walking away, we see Sister Mary seem like she just woke up a bit from actual sleep and she looks calm and refreshed-- like she really did just have a dream of whatever she likes best.

In that moment, Sister Mary is unconcerned with the fact that such a thought is completely incongruous with the fact that she is standing, dressed in work clothes, in the hallway of her workplace. She does not remember the two people who were just there asking her questions or what they asked her. She believes she was dreaming because that is what Aziraphale told her to believe had happened.

The point is that while Sister Mary didn't know she had been influenced like this and could not remember what had happened while she was being influenced, the effects of it remained a little afterwards, as she continued to believe what it was she was told while under the influence. Aziraphale's instructions to her were comparatively pretty innocent-- he told her she had a great dream so she continued to believe that to be true. Satan in 2.06, on the other hand, is not telling Crowley that he just had a dream of whatever he likes best.

Satan possesses Crowley from the start of the scene, accounting for Crowley's quiet and stillness in the early moments of it. He not only tells Crowley to identify him as The Metatron to Aziraphale and the other angels but he makes Crowley believe that he is The Metatron for real. He tells him to make it sound natural when he tells the angels who he is so that they will believe it. That's why Crowley doesn't sound like he's in a trance, the way that Sister Mary did in S1.

I want to throw in here something else, too, that's kind of a foreshadowing/paralleling scene to this as well that comes a couple of episodes prior to this one we're talking about and that is... whatever the fuck exactly was happening to Gabriel in the "tempest" scene.

For the record, I do not believe that it was Satan possessing Gabriel in that scene. I actually think it's some witch-related stuff--I swear the voice speaking with him is Anathema-- but I bring it up even though we don't know what this is totally all about yet because it has some paralleling things that we can already see are relevant.

First off? Where Gabriel is when this happens:

He's sitting in Aziraphale's desk chair. I'm not trying to say the chair itself is spooky (though it is as a result of all of this? lol) so much as I'm saying that both Gabriel and Crowley acting weird and taken over while sitting in Aziraphale's desk chair (which is very much symbolizing Aziraphale) is one of the many things reinforcing that Aziraphale is falling because here are these two characters who parallel him the most-- the two, other most important characters in the show, arguably, and the two also living in the bookshop in S2-- and they're both falling victim to darkness while sitting in his chair.

But what I really want to point out here is what happens to Jim after his possession. Watch Gabriel's eyes at the end here:

There are a few seconds more as well in the show when his eyes resettle on Crowley. Gabriel disappears entirely while he's being possessed. He is speaking words that Crowley can hear and that Crowley recognizes as coming from Gabriel's voice... but when Gabriel blinks back into the room and looks at Crowley, he has no idea what just happened.

He doesn't remember what he just said. He isn't aware of the fact that someone was just possessing him. He feels a little disoriented and anxious-- which is also sort of Jim's default state in S2-- but what we and Crowley witnessed him saying? He has no idea about that. Shax shows up outside the bookshop and causes a distraction that keeps us and Crowley and Gabriel from sorting all of this out until S3 but Gabriel's expressions on the other side of his possession indicate that he has no idea where he just was mentally, what he just said or did, or that someone was in his mind. This is another scene emphasizing this aspect of possession on Good Omens-- no matter who is doing the possessing. The exact same effects of possession is what is happening to Crowley in 2.06.

So, Satan uses Crowley to identify him to the others as The Metatron and makes him believe that he is The Metatron to cover up the fact that he's been in his mind. Crowley has no idea that Satan has been in the bookshop. The moment this becomes clear, though, is the first one you mentioned in your ask, which is when Crowley really confirms for us exactly who Derek Jacobi is playing by doing something so wildly out of character that it's almost impossible to justify without considering the idea that he's being possessed:

encouraging Aziraphale to go somewhere alone with who he believes to be The Metatron.

Next time you're watching this scene-- and GO, in general-- look for where the music stops altogether. There are moments in GO when the score just ceases to exist entirely for a period of time so that we can hear the words that are being said without any distractions. I've found that scenes where this is happening are usually pretty pivotal, either from a wordplay perspective or a plot perspective or, often, both. There is basically no music in the whole scene in which "The Metatron" appears to have arrived at the bookshop.

The score disappears upon "The Metatron's" arrival and it only returns with that big bit of organ-y "DUN DUN DUNNN" villain music right at a pivotal point in the scene you're talking about:

The music comes back at exactly the moment that the camera holds on "The Metatron" as he is staring at Crowley. Why here?

They really, really want you to notice this glare that this person played by Derek Jacobi is leveling at Crowley. We already don't trust this character if he is The Metatron and he's been nothing but a dick since he arrived, really-- he used "demon" to refer to Crowley, he called Muriel "dim" (he can rot for that alone), and he was a total prick to Michael and Uriel. As awful as they are, no one should be spoken to like that. No one-- including most of the audience-- sees this as being extra-villain-y because this is just how The Metatron is so it's expected behavior from who we might think this character is.

So, to show us who this really is, they can't just rely on us noticing that he's in a dark coat and tie (why is he in Hell colors?!) or that he brought along a temptation coffee or that he uses language from Mary Poppins ("spit spot") when speaking to the angels. All those are clues, for sure, but the moment the music comes back is when the show is trying to give us the biggest of the clues to who this really is-- when the scene is structured to show us that he is attacking Crowley.

Because this isn't actually The Metatron glaring at Crowley; it is Satan giving Crowley instructions to stay put.

It's why Crowley doesn't follow them afterwards and continues to believe that The Metatron was who was in the bookshop-- even as Aziraphale has figured out who it really is. Look at Aziraphale's response here and you'll see that this is one of the scenes that suggests he is pretty damn sure this is not The Metatron:

Aziraphale's head whips over to "The Metatron" in response to what Crowley said because he knows what the only explanation for that response out of Crowley is. If you are looking at "The Metatron" while Aziraphale is still turning his head, you can see that he's still staring at Crowley because he was instructing him to tell Aziraphale to go and to not come with them. Satan pastes on a fake as fuck smile when Aziraphale looks at him but it's actually too late-- Aziraphale already knows what's going on. He just doesn't want Satan to know he knows.

Aziraphale knows that there's no way in the universe that Crowley-- who was so worried about danger yesterday that he escorted him to, like, Arnold's Music Shop and Mrs. Cheng's restaurant lol-- would ever just chill in the desk chair while Aziraphale went somewhere alone with The Metatron.

Ever.

The Big Damn Villain Music shows up after "The Metatron"'s fake smile to Aziraphale. It is in the exact moment that he looks at Crowley again and finishes the instructions he was giving before Aziraphale turned his head. It's because this is one of the biggest clues to this character's identity-- who can do this to Crowley? Satan.

Based on the scenes that follow, Satan here is telling Crowley something like:

You will not follow us. He will be back soon. Everything is fine. I was never here; I am The Metatron. Aziraphale is not in any danger. Stay where you are.

This scene-- the one highlighted by the music-- where Satan is silently giving Crowley directions is the one most like the time we see Satan possess Crowley in 1.01. It has a similar effect for a moment, which is probably why the music kicks in here as it's the best way to remind the audience of who can do this to Crowley and how.

In that 1.01 moment, there was no one else around and Satan was not possessing Crowley for the purposes of having him speak to influence someone else's behavior. Since he did not need Crowley to speak in the scene, Crowley does not. He is silent and still while Satan speaks in his mind and gives him instructions. We see that Satan can take such full control over Crowley that Crowley is trapped within himself. He can't speak, he can't scream, he can't move-- so, he can't drive the car and his connection to the car is shattered to a point that The Bentley is almost in a head-on collision with a truck. This is our introduction to the level of possession that Satan has over him-- all contrasted with the fact that Crowley is supposed to be on a date with Aziraphale in the sushi restaurant. This is all coming back around in 2.06.

Its return is also foreshadowed by this Shax bit during the bookshop attack... Crowley missing when he's supposed to be safe with Aziraphale and Aziraphale worried that Satan has Crowley because the demons are circling and Shax... who exists to get inside people's heads a bit... as if echoing Aziraphale's thoughts, says:

Shall we send up the sushi?

After all... do we really think that a season that spent all that time on whether or not actual demons (representing a person's inner demons) were going to be able to get into the bookshop (symbolically, Aziraphale, and Crowley & Aziraphale) is going to let those demons into the bookshop and then just... decide Satan is on vacation for the week? Or do we think that it's not coincidental that the offer Aziraphale is presented with also happens to be the one thing in the entire Universe that could ever tempt him to Hell?

Hmm... 😉

Anyway, back for a moment to the scene in 2.06 when Satan influences Crowley into staying behind and telling Aziraphale to go with "The Metatron"... The undersung thing in this scene, imho, is Aziraphale's reaction.

If Aziraphale really believed this to be The Metatron with 100% certainty, he could have responded to what Satan just made Crowley say by pressing this idea of them going for "The Metatron's" proposed stroll. He could have said aloud to Crowley: "why don't you come with us?" or he could have told The Metatron that he didn't want to go for a walk and why didn't they just sit here in the bookshop instead and anything The Metatron wanted to say to him, he could say to him and Crowley together? If Aziraphale really completely believed that this was The Metatron, he could have-- and would have-- tried either of those things or something like them in response to what Satan made Crowley say.

Instead, what does Aziraphale do?

He *immediately* starts for the bookshop door. Why?

Because he knows that Crowley is not speaking of his own free will and that the person he identified as The Metatron is, in all likelihood, actually Satan. Aziraphale immediately starts for the door because Satan will have to follow him out, since he was the one who proposed this stroll. Aziraphale abandons the idea of Crowley coming with them when he sees that Crowley is being harmed. Instead, he goes alone with Satan, immediately luring him out of the shop so as to get him away from Crowley.

He leaves the bookshop with Satan to protect Crowley. It also foreshadows the fact that he's going to fall over a temptation that is related to Crowley's safety.

Look at how Aziraphale looks back to make sure that Satan is following him and quickly... how nervous and shaky he looks. He would be nervous if this were The Metatron, sure, yes, absolutely. In this moment, though, he's just living one of his worst nightmares-- the bookshop that he built that protects Crowley has been overrun and Crowley has been harmed right there in front of him.

This is their house. It's their living room, where Crowley's lounged for thousands of nights. Crowley is in Aziraphale's own desk chair. This is supposed to be the place where they both feel safe but now there is no safe space so Aziraphale is doing the best he can in the moment by just responding intuitively and protectively by saying with his actions: Get away from him. Follow me. You can have me. Leave him alone.

So, they go out, right? What happens next but the other scene you mentioned in your ask: Crowley and Muriel.

Crowley gets up out of the chair basically the second Satan and Aziraphale are no longer in the shop because Satan's hold on him in that moment is gone and he probably unconsciously needs to move, since Satan was literally not letting him get out of the chair. This is where the weird behavior gets even more weird-- Crowley doesn't follow them. He literally watches from within the shop through the window for a second as Aziraphale leads "The Metatron" over to Marguerite's. Why doesn't he go after them? Because Satan told him to stay in the shop. Just like with Sister Mary believing she had been dreaming, what Crowley has been influenced by Satan into doing lingers with him gone, since he was instructed by Satan to stay in the shop until Aziraphale gets back.

Crowley paces a little circle like a caged tiger, going back further *into* the bookshop-- a totally normal response to his partner going for coffee alone with a murderous psychopath. He mutters to himself:

"They'll be back soon."

WHAT. THE...? How is there anybody who thinks this behavior is normal at this point?

Crowley turns around and Muriel is there. He jumps a bit, having forgotten they were still in the shop. So did the audience, honestly. This may or may not be significant in S3. Muriel being there in the background, blending into the walls during this scene also means that Muriel is now maybe the only character who could actually tell Crowley what happened during the scenes we have been talking about here because he doesn't remember anything involving what he said.

If you were to ask Crowley at any point from the time "The Metatron" and Aziraphale leave the shop on in S2 who identified "The Metatron", he couldn't tell you. If you were to tell him he told Aziraphale to go with "The Metatron", he would not remember doing that. He has as much memory of the words he spoke in the scene with "The Metatron" as Gabriel does of his "there will come a tempest" moment-- which is to say, none.

Crowley knows that Aziraphale has gone with The Metatron and that they will be back soon. He doesn't know how that came to pass and he has been rendered by Satan incapable of leaving the shop or considering the idea that he should follow them.

If the being at the door is Satan and if Aziraphale's fall is where we left the end of 2.06, Aziraphale could lose his memory, at least for a time, which means that the only character who was a reliable witness to Satan influencing Crowley in this scene is Muriel. One purpose of having them in the shop during these moments from a writing standpoint-- as opposed to sending them over to Nina's coffee shop earlier-- might be to set up a character in S3 who can tell Crowley what it was that actually happened here. (Lucky Muriel lol.)

As you pointed out, Crowley starts speaking to Muriel casually, as if nothing is going wrong. He tells Muriel that they should leave the shop, too, and Muriel says:

The Metatron-- really: Satan-- did tell Muriel to wait in the shop but he did so just by pretending to be The Metatron. While there's no possession there with Muriel, Muriel's line to Crowley is also emphasizing what actually just happened to Crowley himself to the audience. "The Metatron" has told them both to wait in the shop-- so, they are waiting in the shop. They're both following directions they've been influenced in different ways to follow. By Muriel saying that they've been told to wait-- even if they were told in a different way than Crowley was-- it suggests that following a directive is also the reason why Crowley himself is still in the shop.

Crowley's response to Muriel, though, makes him sound like he's back to himself-- and, in several ways, he is. He is remaining in the shop because of the influence but he is not currently under an active influence so he can say what it is that he chooses to say. When he's a little sarcastic with Muriel, it sounds like his normal speech because it is. What he doesn't understand is that he's been influenced to do the same thing Muriel has been-- to wait there in the shop-- just against his will, as opposed to Muriel's conscious decision to follow the directive.

Here's where we have to consider Crowley's audience when we talk about what he says next. Crowley likes Muriel; of all the angels not named Aziraphale that he's met, Muriel's definitely top of the list. That said... Muriel is still an angel who is desperate to please The Metatron, as they just proved to him again in this scene by being excited to have been singled out to assist who they believe to be The Metatron. Muriel whole thing is that they're an Inspector Constable; they are literally the (supernatural) police and Crowley wisely doesn't trust the police.

Crowley has no doubt that, after Muriel does leave the shop, that they'd tell The Metatron anything he said. Crowley actually does believe that Aziraphale is in big trouble because he doesn't trust The Metatron-- he's just been rendered incapable of realizing that he's staying in the bookshop because he's been instructed to do so by Satan, who is really the person with Aziraphale in that moment. As a result, Crowley's mind has jumped to a plan for when Aziraphale comes back from coffee with whom Crowley believes is The Metatron.

Crowley has no doubt that Aziraphale will come back because he's been influenced to believe this to be true, which is why he keeps saying "they will be back soon" and "when Aziraphale does come back", instead of being terrified that Aziraphale will not come back at all, which is what he normally would have been if Aziraphale were alone with The Metatron. It is, in this case, going to be true that Aziraphale returns because that is part of Satan's plan and one of the reasons why he influenced Crowley into believing so.

So, anyway, Crowley thinks the big threat is The Metatron potentially erasing Aziraphale into non-existence by deleting him from The Book of Life. This isn't actually a thing, as Crowley told Beez back early on in the season, but Beez, being horrified to realize that they might have been manipulated by something they themselves and Crowley made up ages ago, doubled down out of embarrassment on it being real and led Crowley to believe in its existence as a result. Crowley has spent the season terrified that Aziraphale is going to be made to have never existed. The plan he's cooking up to save Aziraphale from that fate-- which is what he thinks is going on-- is not one he wants to share with the police. It's not one he's going to say aloud in front of Muriel because that might as well be saying it to The Metatron, as far as Crowley is concerned. We won't actually hear Crowley's plan until he delivers it to Aziraphale in coded speech in The Disaster Kiss Scene and by that point, everything is going, um, really, really badly.

(It's the reason why there's no music in that moment so you can literally hear the words echo around the room when Crowley starts in on it and basically shouts the "THIS PLANET" part at Aziraphale but that's straying from the scenes you asked about so *focuses* 😊)

So, Crowley instead says what he'd really, truly, honestly love to be doing for the rest of the morning and he does so in the way that he and Aziraphale do when someone who doesn't speak their language is around and annoying them-- he says it in Ineffable Husbands Speak to amuse himself and, probably, to amuse Aziraphale, whom he plans on telling later. (He'll do this again a few minutes later, when Maggie is ticking him off by saying he and Aziraphale don't talk.)

Crowley says:

Does Crowley want a little Us Time with Aziraphale when he comes back? Does he want to go with him to have an extremely alcoholic breakfast at The Ritz? (Ineffable Husbands Speak for boozy brunch and sex after too long without it?) Yes. Eventually. But he knows there's very dangerous trouble to be dealt with first.

Crowley says that because he wants Muriel to think that he is just preoccupied with thoughts of Aziraphale and breakfast-- because that's what he wants The Metatron to think and he knows Muriel will tell The Metatron what it is that he said.

Crowley wants The Metatron to think he doesn't have a plan.

But, really, when we have known Crowley to not have a plan? 😊

The problem is that it's a plan for the wrong scenario.

It's not The Book of Life that's happening; it's Aziraphale's fall.

It's not The Metatron at the door; it's Satan.

This is almost the entire communication mess of That Disaster Kiss Scene. They're being watched and whatever the fuck happened to Crowley, he can't see that freezing time to speak openly is an option so he and Aziraphale are boxed into trying to each convey what they think is happening and their plans to stop it using their cant vocabulary.

The ironic thing is that while they-- like the audience lol-- have two different ideas of who the being watching them is and what the threat is as a result, they actually both have almost exactly the same plan... with one, key, very romantic difference.

But that's another meta. 😜

In the meantime, I'll just leave you with a reminder of what "The Metatron" said in a moment when Crowley was still in the room:

#ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens meta #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #good omens 2 #good omens theory #crowley x aziraphale #the metatron #the final fifteen

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sirwhistledown · 6 days

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★ summary — during a sweltering day at the horse races, anthony bridgerton finds himself rather enchanted by a sharp-witted, and competitive newcomer... however his greatest challenge turned out not quite to be their playful banter but perhaps something deeper than just that. ˖˙ ꔫ —★★★★ pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem! reader ˖˙ ꔫ —★★★ content warnings. n/a ˖˙ ꔫ —★★ word count. 3.8k ˖˙ ꔫ —★ genre. fluff? not really. idiots in love except they don't know they're in love...? anthony being anthony?? ★ authors note: excuse my god horrendous writing, i fear i have just come back from a 2 year hiatus and well.. it seems as if all my writing sense have bene diminished into the ends of the earth. also mutuals. i need mutuals please, i need to be insane to someone.

Anthony always enjoyed a heartfelt competition.

Perhaps a bit too much for the likings of others, but it always seemed to be infused with his blood. It all came so naturally to him; there was no need to try. As a young boy, he would compete with his brothers, Benedict having quite a hearty laugh when he would fail to beat him in whatever makeshift game they conjured up. It made it worse for the already tense gentleman because his annoying, bothersome brother would never stop bringing out how he was younger than Anthony during such times.

But he was not a quitter. He never was, and he decided that he never shall be. Anthony perpetually told himself that, and the results always ended up in his favor at the end of the day. Just as victory appeared within his reach, he let it go once more, easily slipping through his fingers in the subsequent round. Anthony has always been perplexed as to why this pattern only ever appeared to surround him or why he only noticed it within himself far too much.

It seemed quite the same when it came to his love life as well. Taking away the winning part—he never quite seemed to win. Conceivably, Anthony never thought he could truly love someone with his entire being; the sensation felt so foreign and despicable to think about. An acquaintance, he supposed, was something he could settle with. And yet, an admirable acquaintance proved hard to find in this economy. The number of women that lined up for a dance, a date—whatever it may be, were all too simple-minded, credulous, or even dumb, if Anthony really thought about it. None of them appeared to be a suitable partner.

Those thoughts haunted him day and night throughout the season—the wonder if he’ll ever meet anyone well-suited for him, he pondered to himself. Anthony deemed himself rather fortunate that he was a busy man, bustling about a handful of places in need to complete the tasks firsthand. When he had his hands full with some problem, even if it may be pointless, occupied his mind enough for him to forget about his marital issues. Taxation never seemed more interesting to him.

Conversely, he found that it bothered him most during social events. Whereas his problems stood face-to-face against him, sometimes it felt as if it were a direct punch to the gut. With the remaining eligible ladies dwindling, his temper for it all only grew to being far more annoyed than anything else. Any other year, Anthony would’ve respectively enjoyed the horse race that he attended within the company of his brothers, but at this time, his mind had been elsewhere as he mindlessly stumbled his way around the course grounds.

There were a number of people that stood around him, chatting expressively with one an

other. Ladies whispering in hushed tones, their husbands gathered amongst themselves, likely betting against one another. Anthony couldn’t help but to do so himself—a solid bet did him well most days. Although, perhaps, he wasn’t the brightest when it came to the subject despite betting upon the favoured horse.

Anthony tugs heartily at his neckpiece, adjusting the pressure against his throat as it pressed in such a peculiar way that he began to pay some mind to it. He adjusted it so that it was allowed to rest lightly, not entirely choking him out anymore as it had done just moments ago. The effort ended up being weirdly abominable.

Peeved, bothered, and sweaty, he decided sullenly the lemonade that the event offered would not be such a bad idea to him after all. Refreshing was the only word that happened to catch his mind as he politely hurries his way towards where the stand had caught his eye as he made his way into the event. It seems as if half of the people there had a similar idea, heeding from the lengthiness of the line. He could perhaps find some place else to get some refreshments, but if Anthony is being honest, the idea of continuing to walk in this heat whilst unknowing if there even was anything waiting for him out there, wasn’t one that he would immediately jump to. And so he begrudgingly waits.

The sun beats down harshly upon him, and he tirelessly slides off his top-hat to appease the sweat that had begun to cling onto the sides of his forehead. Anthony dabs the beads away silently with the cuff of his coat when no one else is paying any mind to him. He liked to call himself fortunate as the line dissipates fairly quickly, and it is only a few minutes later when he finds himself nearing the refreshments area.

“Cooling, is it not?”

It takes Anthony a beat to realize that the sudden intrusion of the voice is addressed towards him. He swivels his head, pivoting himself so he can adjust to the sudden change in position to locate where the sound had come from. He is quick to answer the question as the fine-looking lady standing next to him stares right back into his betrothed soul.

First impressions always stuck near and dear to Anthony, and while usually it would be noted of their personality and not much else, he finds himself in a different situation to the norm. The first thing he notices happens to be the alluring eyes, mysterious with a gaze that would unsettle any person, man or woman. But the expression read differently, a polite smile stretched upon the delicate skin, her fair hair conditioned beautifully for this particular sunny day. Anthony is quick to return the smile, as he had done so many times before in the past. He could regard it as a daily occurrence now.

“Indeed, it is.” His response is considerate, his voice moderately even; it’s as if he were trained for this. And Anthony supposed he quite literally is trained for it. “Especially on a day as sweltering as this.”

He can faintly hear in the background a man grumbling incoherently about keeping up the line, and he apologetically (although he doesn’t feel very apologetic) responds to the not-so gentleman behind him. He hastily picks his glass, an internal groan erupting in him when a couple of drops spill onto the earthly grass. At least it had avoided his clothing by its means. Anthony had already begun to walk away, lemonade secured, when he noticed the same lady who had engaged him in a brief conversation engaging in the same direction that he was headed.

“Such events are quite amusing,” Her words are delicate, but they are firm enough for Anthony to know that she stands her ground. She stands ever so beautifully, firm but beautiful, letting her dress flutter slightly into the soft breeze that washes over the course. “I can not say that they were common in my homeland.”

Ah. So that is why Anthony failed to recognize her—a new citizen, or possibly just visiting some family for the season. After all, Mayfair was quite prestigious in its ways if you stood in the high rankings. “So I take that you are not from here?” He questions, even though he already knows the answer.

The lady shakes her head, the hair atop her head bouncing as she does so. “Not quite.” She responded appropriately. She rattles off some place that Anthony had surely never been before, and he nods upon hearing the answer. "I am here visiting, as my cousin kindly offered to host me, and who am I to decline such a gracious invitation?"

The words rolled sweetly off her tongue, as if she were making a harmonious melody. Certainly a clever tongue in her mouth, Anthony could think to himself. “Well then, I must certainly assume that you are here for the season.”

It was an honest question. The lady looked to be in her earlier years of life, if Anthony really had to make a guess. Fair skin, beautiful features, and a voice as gorgeous as the waves in the ocean—what else would she be doing in Mayfair at this time of the year? It only seemed reasonable to make that assumption. He stands correct when she pushes her head down as an agreement, “Yes.” She says, yet she pauses for a beat before continuing her sentence, "Though I must say, it is quite a considerable departure from what I am accustomed to back home.”

"In a manner most agreeable, I trust?" Anthony says, and the lady smiles approvingly. It was quite a sugary smile, the sort that sat well within the presumably older man. It looked as if the course grounds had gotten crowded by tenfold since Anthony had turned his back, making the exertion towards the stands much harder than what it should’ve been.

“Well, yes.” Whereas, the tone of her voice contradicted what her words have stated. The lady’s eyebrows furrow for a mere moment, as if he were contemplating something of sorts. “Nevertheless, it is quite hard.”

He inclines his head. Anthony could somewhat agree with her words—the season was always stressful, a throatful of things to stress and worry about, a million matters to perfect to attract the best of the best. He had never felt too stressed, perhaps when he was swarmed with tasks to complete for the up-and-coming ball or party, but never on his performance at such events. Anthony believed that is why he suddenly threw himself in as an eligible bachelor, and the best if he may add, was so diminishing. "With a lady such as yourself, I must presume it is not exceedingly difficult."

The lady, which Anthony now realizes that he does not know the name of, blushes a shade of pink that could only be described as warm, like a rose pelting in the wind. She laughs graciously, accepting the compliment with ease. “I must confess, I am flattered, Mr…” Her words trail off as she too comes to realization with the fact she does not know how to address the young gentleman.

“Lord Bridgerton.” He introduces, his voice not in any way condescending as many others may take him on to be.

Anthony takes note of the way the lady’s eyebrows raise up in surprise, followed by the rather flushed look that began to tint at her cheeks. "Oh dear, I beg your pardon, my Lord." Tilting her head down hesitantly as if she were unsure of what formality would be the most appropriate. It almost forces a chuckle out of the Viscount.

"And whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?" Anthony continues on as it is only polite to ask so.

"Mm, indeed. How remiss of me not to mention it beforehand…” The lady says, letting out a sort of awkward laugh that could be seen as rather affectionate. “My name is Y/n.” The lady states, followed by a surname that Anthony can faintly remember to be as one of the other Viscounts that lived in the city, although he couldn’t quite say he knew the name all too well. Certainly not one that he had talked to on the occasion.

“I see,” Anthony nods along, a faint smile tainted upon his lips before he even knows it himself. “Charming gentleman your cousin is.” He could not say if the man was truly charming, or a gentleman at all, as he had only read a couple lines about it from the Lady Whistledown paper that his family had received a couple of long weeks ago.

“Charming, indeed.” The words were more so grumbled, as if she didn’t quite agree with the statement. “That is certainly one way to describe him.”

He chuckles at the disdain laced upon her voice. Anthony fairly enjoyed the new sense of emotion—most ladies he had the pleasure of talking with all embellished their compliments in spite of thinking the opposite. Being able to hear an objection that wasn’t sugarcoated heavily; Anthony would think that he notably liked the trait that distinguished Y/n.

The course grounds slowly appear into Anthony’s line of vision as the conversation dies down. The sound of chatter that did come from his or her mouth refilling his ears—excited husbands yelling bets at one another, ladies shaking their heads as so—the look that was etched on their faces would be one that Anthony could appreciate and find humorous.

"I must confess, some of the wagers being placed are rather simplistic in nature." Y/n cuts in through the stillness of their discussion beforehand. A nice conversation starter, but one that would rile many people up. "It appears as though none of these individuals have ever graced a racecourse before! How utterly rash of them to bet upon the favored contender solely because of his popularity."

He can’t help but be taken aback, although once again, her exaggeration was one that could be seen as comical. That is, before he had realized that he himself had also bet upon the favored horse, Nectar, which Anthony assumed the lady was talking about. For a moment, he wonders if her words are pure bullshit, if she was just making conversation with him. It is as if Y/n sees right through him.

“Oh my, do not tell me you have also fallen into the unfortunate trap of betting for Nectar.” Anthony can’t quite place what expression she expresses, but it does not look good. Disappointed, or perhaps pity.

“Naturally, I betted upon him, it is a sensible bet, and he is a horse of sound character who shall undoubtedly finish with victory this afternoon.” He defends, the tone of his voice sounding rather offended at the plain mention of his unwary wager. Something deep down in him wonders if the lady was indeed right, if he really did not know what he was doing. Again, Anthony could not say he was educated well enough, and admittedly, he had bet upon Nectar due to the favorability of his win. “I have a well placed feeling about him.”

“A feeling?” Y/n’s eyebrow cocks up, the smile on her face now more jovial than polite. “Or is it the choosing of the horse that everyone has chosen? Well, I do suppose that adds to the list of husbands who shall be more than disappointed once the race has concluded.”

“I beg your finest pardon, I have made a strategic bet.” His words are more puncuated than before, suddenly relishing within the first person to truly give him some sort of competition that did not stem from his brothers or family, for that matter. “Nectar is a prized steed. He is quite well bred, highly trained, and, as many other people have shown, well favored.”

Y/n tsks, shaking her head as if she were scolding Anthony as his mother and father had done when he was a young boy. “I must assume you have not considered the quality of the racing course and the weather to assess the true potential? Although these sorts of events are not truly common back in my homeland, I do must say that many of these may just be common sense.”

She knows that her words are stretching the truth, that it wasn’t just common sense, but Y/n must admit that she took delight in having a friendly banter. She climbs up onto one of the wooden bleachers, sitting herself upon the heated seat, with Anthony following quickly behind her. “You see, my cousin had kindly explained to me the expectations of the race, and it is said that Nectar raced well at Doncaster; however, the track conditions were far from the same. A firmer course, if you will. While now, over here…” She pauses to wave her hand at the field of grass in front of her view. “It is much softer, and it is a rather humid day. He will much slowdown in the final leg, giving HighFlyer the much easy victory.”

Anthony scoffs. Foolish? Perhaps. Tinted with truth? Also yes. "Are you merely echoing the words your cousin imparted to you earlier?" He argues as well, Anthony never backed down from a challenge, and this lady was surely challenging him.

“And are you merely saying that I do not know about horse racing because I am a woman?” She tilts her head to look directly at Anthony; the grin that is placed strategically on her face was one that he could not argue with. And he is sure of that when he opens his mouth to bite back, but being blatantly unable to respond with something witty. Oh, that shit-eating smirk that was so easily disguised as a polite smile made Anthony oh-so infuriatingly upset. Upset because she knew what she was doing; upset because, well, he was moderately fond of that smile.

“We shall see then.”

Famous last words, because well, he is proved to be utterly wrong. The course of disappointed groans that steamed through the crowd, which Anthony would not admit (but was a part of), as HighFlyer flew his way across the finish line were abominably loud. Nectar staggered behind him moments later, but not before the crowd had seen how winded he was by the heat and conditions.

The lady behind him had laughed in delight, unable to celebrate fully before she must turn towards Anthony to shove it into his face. “I can not say that I have ever beat a viscount before.” Suddenly, all formality that was once there had been gone, destroyed, as if it had never been there in the first place. “I do suppose there is always a first.”

“And a last.” Anthony grumbles under his breath, in hope that Y/n would close off her ears to the harsh criticism. To his luck, she does hear.

“I must concede, you are just like the many men who claim to be gentlemen.” She replies, even though she seemed not to be very upset by the Viscount’s words. If that had been the case, it would have appeared as though Anthony had experienced numerous episodes of frustration—possibly humorous ones, but nonetheless, frustration.. "Unwilling to concede defeat, even when it lies directly at his feet."

“I am able to concede defeat if the defeat deserves to be conceded.” His words are sharp, even though the smile tugging at his face says different to his own jumble of words. Anthony could not quite help it when he sees her eyes light up with something that he could not describe. “If it dares, look me in the eyes.”

“Ah, is that right, my Lord?” She questions, carrying herself with the confidence that he hadn’t seen in forever. An admirable trait indeed, if Anthony must admit. "Does not defeat gaze directly upon you as HighFlyer is crowned the victor of this afternoon's fine race.”

He sighs. Anthony was never one to be dramatic; he always held himself upright and, in his family's words, rather serious. Still, he had to admit that his gasp was a bit dramatic. “Ah… well.” His words trail off slowly, grimacing at the truth of the lady’s words. “I suppose you are… right this time.” The syllables were uttered slowly, followed by another huff of a breath that he could only feel to himself.

She laughs, that beautiful melody of a laugh. While in many cases, it would be regarded as an unpleasant sound unless it was done so delicately, hers was not delicate, nor was it ungracious. It was as if the notes from every music piece ever composed had all come together to form one masterpiece of a harmony, one that ebbed and flowed in all the right ways.

“Oh rejoice! What a sound those words are!” Y/n breathes dreamfully.

The track is far from empty, with many individuals walking over to congratulate the winner, while the others either mourn the losses of their empty wallets, or giggling gleefully over their new-found bundles of heritage. However, the bleachers were starting to thin out, leaving just a select few groups.

There is a sense that weaves through him as he ponders his next move. He could surely just stand himself up, mutter out a respectable goodbye, and leave, yet at the same time, he could not allow himself to just do that. Anthony seemed far better off conversing with this lady than with any other of the ones that he had danced or engaged with in the slightest. The thought made him laugh at his own stupidity, and yet;

"I cannot suppose it would be honorable of me not to inquire if you might attend the Hearts and Flower Ball with me. I trust you have heard of it?" Anthony asks, not just out of politeness but also the small amount of desire he feels for just a beat of a moment. One that felt odd and far too new in his chest, something that he had yet to feel in the weeks that had came, and the weeks yet to come.

The lady showed a glimpse of astonishment, and Anthony wonders if he had made the right decision upon asking her about it in the first place. "My Lord, are you, perchance, inquiring if you wish to take me on a social outing?" Though even she could hear the tiny quiver that was woven, her voice seemed steady as she spoke.

“I… suppose I am, yes.” He stands with his head gently cocked to the right, extending his hand in consolation. Anthony can feel the regret seeping into his words as they were carefully placed, because God, if she came to deny his request, he was sure he could drop dead on the grass at that given moment.

“I would love to.” And Anthony would not be able to stop the sigh of relief that washed over him even if he had tried. The tension that creased his forehead, all the way down to his calves, was quickly overridden with a sense of declaration.

As he wove through the throngs of disassembling guests, waving courteously to the lady that he swore to uncover the mystery of, Anthony finally let himself pry out of dapper smile. For the first time in a while, he felt as if he were winning. Not just a kid-made, pointless game, but something much deeper than he could have ever imagined. Except, this time, he would not allow it to simply just… escape his grasp.

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urchintoast · 1 year

Text

Fear

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x (Female) Reader

Rating: T

Length: 800 words

Warnings: angst, blood mention, difficult childbirth, talk of death

Summary: Anthony’s always been afraid of dying and leaving behind his family like his father did.

————

The fear still paralyzed him, sometimes.

[[MORE]]

He didn’t go for walks in the garden, and always inspected the carriage personally before getting in.

He’d thought, once, that his worries would ease once they had children. That perhaps if he knew that you wouldn’t be left alone, that finally the weight would ease off his chest. The moment baby Edmund opened his eyes and stared up at him though, the weight doubled, and he knew he would never be free of this fear. Because now he’d be leaving even more behind.

He wasn’t afraid of death. Not really. Or at least, not in the traditional sense. He wasn’t afraid of what might happen to himself when he left this mortal world. His sins were his own, and he was fully prepared to answer for them one day.

He was afraid of what came with death. Of the effect that his death would have on everyone still living. His greatest pride was also his greatest source of anxiety - his love for you. It was his own selfishness of not being able to let you go, of ensnaring you into his life, into his heart, that kept him awake at night. Usually it was just to watch how peaceful you looked. To soak in every moment he could like this before he wound up wrecking you, leaving you behind to pick up the pieces like his father did to his mother, to all of them. He knew his death was inevitable, and he hated himself for it. For letting you in enough that you returned his love completely, and were now vulnerable to losing him.

What he never expected was that the very opposite would happen. Never once had it even crossed his mind as a possibility that you would leave this earth before him.

“It’s a girl,” his mother told him softly, tiredly.

“And Y/n? How is she doing?” He asked, eager to see his wonderful wife and tell her how proud he was of her. How much he loved her. To see her hold her mini lookalike and together introduce their daughter to her older brother. His whole world.

At his mother’s silence, however, he looked up, alarmed. “Mother? How is Y/n?”

“She lost a lot of blood, Anthony. The doctor’s doing everything he can, but you must prepare yourself. There is a chance that she’ll never regain consciousness.”

Everything after that passed in a blur.

Benedict and Colin quickly rushed to his side, holding him up. His head felt like cotton, and the room spun around him. He heard shouting echoing in the hallway, but couldn’t tell if it was himself or someone else. Only the fact that he couldn’t breathe gave hint that the commotion was caused by someone else.

Ages passed—Anthony never knew if it was mere minutes or hours, and then a hush fell upon the whole household. Even the newborn babe was quiet, as if she sensed that this was an important moment that could make or break everything.

When the door to the bedroom opened again and his mother stepped out with her head down, his heart stopped. He dropped his head, unable to watch his mother’s approach and the news it must bring.

“She looks just like her mother,” Violet said, then, and Anthony’s eyes widened at that. There, in his mother’s arms, was the tiniest girl imaginable. Despite everything else, Anthony reached his arms out to hold her. His daughter. Carefully, he ran a finger over her cheek and under her chin. She truly did look just like her mother. Like Y/n.

He wasn’t even aware of the tears that were falling down his face, though his mother quickly commandeered Benedict’s handkerchief to wipe them away for him.

“Colin, will you go fetch Neddy? Come along, Anthony, I think your wife has waited long enough to have her family in her arms again.”

His head shot up at that.

“What? You mean-!” his voice broke as another sob shook his body.

“Oh, thank god!” Benedict said quietly, wiping away tears of his own.

As he walked into the bedroom carrying your daughter, Anthony froze upon seeing you sitting up in bed, before rushing forward. Just behind him, Colin carried Neddy over and deposited him on the bed next to you before stepping back to give the family some room.

Anthony’s quite sure that he wasn’t saying anything at all coherent, too caught up in the fact that you were here, you were still here. What he said didn’t matter, just that you were the one to hear it. The fear of death and all that came with it had not won today.

Death may be inevitable, but it didn’t have to be today. That, at least, he could live with.

#anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton fanfiction

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numberonecolinbridgertonlover · 21 days

Text

What the Bridgerton character you relate to the most says about you (based on the show and my opinion) *mostly unserious edition*

Anthony - older sibling part one. That or you are the certified glue that holds your entire family together. Also, fake arse cynic, I know you want to be loved and cherished you’re just scared it will never last or no one will ever see you that way. Control freak but I get it.

Benedict - You are the personification of the quote about grief. (In case you don’t know which one I’m talking about: "How do you process grief? By running from it until it finds me in the middle of a sunny street on a beautiful day?") You have been running away from something your entire life, whether that be yourself or a feeling. Newsflash it’s gonna catch you one day. That said, you’re probably also lgbtq and camp.

Colin - gurrllll… read Benedict’s first and then come back here, you also need to hear that. You are a quote on quote pathological people pleaser. SAVIOUR COMPLEX. Girl, they’re not gonna love you even if you can bend the laws of nature for them. You’re naive, sensitive and desperate for someone, literally anyone to understand and care for you. Also, babes… you’re not unworthy of love, you just have imposters syndrome.

Daphne - I bet you loved watching Zoella in her prime. I also feel like you’re the sort of person that is constantly expecting/hoping to bump into the love of your life whenever you’re in public. You’re a hopeless romantic but I get it.

Eloise - You’re probably LGBTQ. You might have started out a feminist with the girl power quotes but have since delved deeper and have since been more radicalised. You probably struggle to connect with overt "femininity" for numerous reasons including the patriarchy and the media’s portrayal of women but you support all women regardless. Your fashion sense consists of baggy tops, jeans and jorts (RIP Eloise, you would’ve loved baggy clothes 😔) Do you own a carabiner? You’ve probably had a fuck arse bob era at some point in your life.

Francesca - girl I get it, I really do. I hate human civilisation as well. It’s loud, it’s overwhelming, it’s scary. You’ve felt like the odd one out everywhere you go and people always seem to pick up that despite how hard you try to hide it . You just want to live in peace, maybe with someone who understands you. That said, how’s that autism diagnosis coming along-

Gregory - You are the personification of that vine where the kid has a knife. ("What have you got there? A KNIFE. no-)

Hyacinth - I just know you’re funny asf. Haters hate to see you coming because they know you’re about to gag tf out of them.

Kate - older sibling part two, probably older sister. If not, just like with Anthony, the glue the holds the family together. You can stand up to haters but you can’t say no to your friends when you want to. Sometimes you’ve just got to bite the bullet and prioritise your own happiness girl.

Penelope - …where do I even begin? You were probably the person that everyone just unanimously decided they thought was weird or unapproachable and it has messed you up indefinitely. (That’s on them though girl, there is nothing wrong with you I promise 💋) Family issues. You have imagined getting revenge on everyone who has ever wronged you. Body issues (girl, you’re beautiful don’t let anyone tell you otherwise) Short.

Simon - Daddy issues daddy issues. Emotionally constipated. You can’t believe meaningless sex and substance abuse didn’t cure you.

Philip - You have anxiety.

John: Introvert™️ honestly just read Francesca’s you’re both in the same boat. You are not afraid to dip once the social battery has ran out and I respect that. You know how to set up boundaries. Though, I think you wonder sometimes if you have protected your peace a bit too much because your only friend is your pet or your mum let’s be honest—

Michaela: LGBTQ. And you’re right because she is beautiful- I bet you love the film Bottoms. Favourite artists include Chappell Roan, Renee Rapp. You like Bridgerton in a gay way (the women)

Violet: You’ve never quite gotten over that one relationship have you… you would love the song loml by Taylor Swift 😔✊.

Portia: I feel like you have been told one thing you’re entire life and you’ve kind of based your entire personality upon that only to realise when you have grown up and met new people that it’s all worthless and the very foundations of who you are are crumbling as we speak. But you look slay while it happens.

Lady Danbury: I bet you’re expecting me to tell you how much of a baddie you are… which you are but don’t pretend you’re not wearing a facade to ensure you never get hurt by anyone ever again.

Queen Charlotte: Alexa play right where you left me by Taylor Swift.

Brimsely: your gay situationship has messed you up.

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alaydabug2 · 4 months

Text

@myfairkatiecat Ik I said I didn't post on tumblr....BUT I DO NOW

Ok so to go more in depth of the theory about Keefe's mind shattering

Here you can see the different ways people can shatter

"But some turn erratic and reckless."

SHANNON

Who does that sound like to you

Furthermore, Keefe didn't really start becoming reckless until he found out about his mom

Yeah sure he ditched class and was a trouble maker, but he never really did anything to crazy until his mom

In neverseen alone he covered his room in paper scraps, took fathomlethes (which I believe are an elf version of drugs, but that's for another time to deep dive), tried to run off to ravagog on his own, and ran away to the neverseen

That's not even a book finding out about his mother

I also believe that his minds is slowly shattering bit by bit like Alden and has come extremely close several times

Also in neverseen when he had to be sedated for 24 hours because he was in shock and kept replaying the recovered memory over and over, when in legacy his mom got away and he was shaking and yelling

There's probably more too but I can't think of it rn

I also think what will be the last straw

I think he actually killed Ethan Benedict Wright II and his daughter (sorry if the next bit sounds weird this was copy and pasted from my YouTube 😭)

Ok so

Keefe has been going numb in stellarlune

We're all aware of that

He's not acting himself

Going numb

Abilities not working

Just overall worrying behavior

AND Shannon said some major information is going to be unveiled in unraveled

Well Well Well

I've come up with something

What if Keefe DID actually kill Ethan and his daughter

Hear me out

Shannon said that she was going to try and fit the information in unraveled into stellarlune

But it didn't work out

Then in try for book 10

But didnt fit

Well in stellarlune we know the 2 humans WERE actually brought up

Could that have been Shannon trying to write in the information about them but didn't work?

But you're probably wondering how this means Keefe killed them

Stick with me

Almost there

Keefes memory of him delivering the letter was SHATTERED

Not washed

Shattered

That was the only memory (as of known so far) to be shattered

The rest got washed

Why go out of your way to shatter THAT specific memory when the others were washed

Like the one with Gisela was on the roof with Alvar

That wasn't anything he needed to remember later

But why treat it different

Also

Gisela was talking like Keefe had something to do with their death

(Could've been manipulation tactic and it probably was but still)

Keefe had also visited their graves and asked about them

Confirmed stuff about them WILL be in unraveled

He wasn't acting himself in stellarlune

Yes he wasn't acting himself in unlocked either

And also yes he's been going numb and that absolutely will contribute to that

But idk

It just seems like there's more to it than JUST that

And THAT would definitely mess someone up

AND I'm already pretty sure his mind will shatter in book ten

So that could be the tipping point for it to do so

AND Shannon said this is game changing news

That definitely would be COMPLETELY plot changing and everything

And it would make sense why we'd need to see this revelation through his pov rather than in Sophie's just being told

Even if Keefe didn't kill them himself

But more so he had a more direct role in their murders than previously thought

So what do yall think of this

#kotlc keefe #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc #kotlc theory #kotlc keefe sencen #theory

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nalyra-dreaming · 6 months

Note

"Worried about the Nicki/TVL content" here for clarification. I apologize, that came off like I didn't want to see TVL/Nicki. I'm excited to see Louis' journey through Europe and very excited for the theatre des vampires. I'm also very excited to see Lestat's backstory, including Nicki's part in it. What I meant is I'm worried that the showrunner might have been worried they weren't getting a season 3 so they packed in TVL and Nicki into season 2 so audiences got the backstory for Louis, Armand, and the theatre and how that ties to Lestat because they didn't want to leave questions because they may not get a season 3.

I want them to take their time with each major plot point and i wondered if cramming so much in was a hint that there was not going to be a renewal. But your response to my first ask was reassuring. I just really need to see the entire story play out before they end the show and I panicked so much advertisement of TVL in season 2 was an indication that this would be the only time we see it. Does that make sense?

Also, what plot points or storylines do you think we will see in season 3 in addition to TVL because the show always has more than one book or storyline going?

Ah ok :) It does make sense, but I honestly wouldn't worry too much.

For example Rolin talked about Lestat and Gabrielle at the SDCC '22 panel and so far there is no hint of Gabrielle - which makes sense, because Armand does not particularly like her... he probably omits her in his retelling of what happened.

But I don't think Rolin is going to omit her :) ... pass on the possibility to ... dip into that mess, too^^

And Rolin has already talked about Lestat's turning (and it being the literal worst of all the vampires' turnings) in the podcast back then, too. TVL is why Rolin wanted to do the show.

So. I wouldn't worry too much. AMC is financially out of the woods, the modus operandi seems to be the same as last season, and they are ramping up promotion, they are still developing the other shows, too. They said they are in for the long run, and there was once talk of 10 seasons... now I am not optimistic enough to hope for that much *laughs*, but... I'd love it :)) Definitely. Supposedly Sam was signed for 5 seasons though (off the bat). We'll see.

As per story lines... well, I mean, they will need to keep Dubai fresh, so that will develop further, and then, of course, in Lestat's past there is a lot they can hook into as well.

Magnus shows up as a ghost in the later books, too, so who knows, they might explore that aspect already (and there maybe the origins of the Talamasca???) in some kind of fashion. It would serve to introduce Benedict and Rhoshamandes here, too, given the later arcs. Marius' arc, of course, though if the rumor re Justin Kirk holds then they are going towards Marius' story and TWMBK (and possibly QotD) in s4 and s5. Gabrielle could be introduced in Dubai, and maybe bring in Sevraine, I mean Fareed is already there, the ancient vampires are there already, somewhere, out of sight, but there is a lot of possibility :)

And, of course, if they actually bring in Fareed again (which might be needed, given Daniel's health status), then Seth cannot be that far, and through Seth we could get an introduction to Gregory and Mekare, and Maharet, and Khayman, and... whoever else.

The Dubai TL is mixed up already, and I for one love it, because it allows for so much.

For example the piano music in the show... I would have loved it if that had been a live stream, of Sybille playing (for example). You know? Little things.

Sam said that there would be (more/other) cameo's coming in s2, so... I fully expect there to be more vampires, probably only apparent to those who know^^. (Just like last time^^)

Also: by now I do think we will get yet another revisit of episode 5 in s3. From Lestat's POV.

Because there is something there that I have touched on, that @cbrownjc has touched on... namely that we will now get to that the fight was more an actual "fight" downstairs, but even more interestingly, we will in all likelihood see why the fight rekindled upstairs. And... here comes something Lestat says in episode 6 into play, namely: "I don't know what possessed me that night."

Now, anyone who has read the last books (which Rolin as stated takes from) knows that Amel's awakening is bloody, drawn to violence, and that he takes over sometimes. He also likes to be in Lestat.

If the basic structure of the fight stays as it is there has to be a reason why that fight rekindled upstairs, and why it continued then with such a drastic power-imbalance, and why Lestat went on about his "nature", something which I have always found weird.

However, if they are already setting up Amel... I have theorized before that they might combine Akasha and Amel, since the actual threats (the burnings) are quite similar and it would be too repetitive for the show.

IF they are, indeed, already setting up Amel, then we will see the "reason" why it all went shit in Louis' POV next season, and then get the personal account of what happened there in s3. Louis won't be able to make much sense of it yet, neither will Armand, nor Daniel, and not even Marius (in all likelihood). But as these lines have not been come into play yet (and this show does not waste lines) I fully expect them to come back.

And then, if Lestat recounts the possession that story line can segue into s4 and s5 of Akasha/Amel rising, they'll probably skip the "core" going to Mekare first, I think Lestat will take it directly, maybe with the threat of Rhoshamandes thrown in or after, depending.

As I said before, I think they know how they want to do the first 5 or so seasons, and this... this is how I think it might come together :))

Obviously this is the "rough cut" - the details will be the most interesting thing.

What did Louis say in the trailer?

"We should get every detail right."

Indeed.

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breakingstanding · 3 months

Note

did you read Eloise’s crying at the wedding as happy tears? I see most of the fandom praising her for when she was fighting with Penelope, hating the concept of marriage but still crying tears for her friend… but I thought the conversation with Benedict had the implication that she was upset at the wedding. What are your thoughts?

Yeah I definitely think she had very mixed feelings about the wedding. I think there was certainly some happiness to the tears, she definitely loves Colin and Penelope and genuinely wants them to be happy. That said, anyone who couldn't see that she was struggling with an intense sadness probably wasn't paying attention.

I would say there are two main ways to interpret her mixed feelings at the wedding:

a) She is watching more loved ones leave her for futures that will be less interconnected with her own, while she languishes in her childhood home with no clear path ahead of her. Even though they'll still be in her life it will never be the same as it was. She won't live with her brother anymore, where her and Pen used to be their own duo now Pen will always be in a partnership with Colin first and foremost. They'll go off and have kids and a life together and Eloise will be left alone.

b) She is in love with Pen. I don't think she is consciously aware of this, or even has a frame of reference to know that women being in love with each other is an option, but I think she never really considered a future where her and Pen weren't spinsters together. She was already heartbroken because of the Whistledown fight, but I think she probably still thought that things would resolve themselves and her and Pen would go back to how they used to be. The wedding is the last nail in the coffin of the future she was planning for them together, and I think she is probably filled with some deeply confusing grief because of this.

I tend to think it was a bit of both. Frankly every single interaction Eloise has ever had with Penelope makes more sense through the lens that she is in love with her.

I also think that Eloise is generally filled with a deep sadness from living in a society where the only path given to women is one that fills her with dread, and no one in her life seems to understand or try to empathise with her about this at all.

No wonder she was crying, I wanna cry just thinking about it!

#eloise bridgerton #penelope featherington #peneloise #bridgerton #bridgerton spoilers

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neutron-stars-collision · 1 year

Text

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 1 - Stratford Underground Station

Masterlist Summary: Everybody knows anything can happen on London tube. That includes meeting a handsome stranger with a strange name, who doesn't mind saving a ballerina in distress. Chapter playlist Warnings: Swearing and E-rated language (as the preview already shows). Author's Notes: So it's finally here, my opus magnum. Or so I hope. As I've hinted before, this project is the love-child of a few things - my unfading obsession with Neil, fascination with London and the love of public transport. Or something along those lines. I've no idea how long it'll be, or the exact details of what's going to happen, but I know that it's going to be fun. For both me, and them. And you, too, I hope. Chapter titles come from station names (in case you've been wondering) and I decided to go wild and attach a short, chapter-centric playlist to each of them, because why not. Enjoy and please, let me know what you think 💕 Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

The discovery that it would be a day came a mere two hours after the harsh sound of your phone alarm. Its harbinger took the form of Liam – a moderately tall, dark-haired man with an acceptable face and an ability to make you come that did not seem to get the hint.

Instead, he continuously nagged you for days after the (absolutely intended) ghosting you have implemented. While you would admit it was harsh, it was also not your fault that you had enough of him after the hook-up no 5. It was just fine, nothing spectacular and, most importantly, it was getting predictable. Solution? Ending the situationship before it could become a chore rather than a pleasure. Problem? Liam did not seem to think the same.

So, when, this morning, you finished the lukewarm coffee and picked up the phone to check the socials before leaving, only to find another string of texts with pathetic emojis, the mood has soured. It was nothing new, just more hearts, pleading eyes and invocations to your goodness, all culminating in the same way. With another proposition of date, with another love confession he could not have possibly meant. This time, you’ve had enough. You ignored the urge to smash the phone and instead broke the silence by sending him a simple message – Fuck off. With that, you let out a string of curses that probably made poor Miss Stevens next door recoil in disgust and blocked Liam. The triumphant spark did not outweigh the annoyance, however.

The second blow of the day came not that much later and could also easily be blamed on Liam. Or so it was easier to believe. There was no sense of distraction as you tied up the ribbons of your pointe shoes and started warming up. And, at first, it was all just as it was supposed to. You welcomed the opening notes of the coda enthusiastically, happy to go through the steps just as you were supposed to be. As you were taught. A turn after turn, the burning in your legs felt like a benediction. That was what you were always supposed to do.

Until it started to feel different.

One misstep was instantly noticed by Jane, who danced alongside you, perfecting the same choreography. You could hear her quiet gasp, wordlessly pointing out the mistake you would never have missed anyway. In a split second, you knew it was enough to throw you off, losing the tempo and balance, barely managing not to sprain your ankle and topple onto the parquet. Refusing to look at Jane, you slid down the wall by the barre and let out a frustrated groan. Not long after that, you decided to check out of the studio. One humiliation was quite enough.

By the time you had set onto Southwark station, intending to catch the tube back home, you were half contemplating unblocking Liam to sue him for mental damages. And the cost of reparations of your dignity. It seemed like a fair deal, considering everything. On autopilot, you descended the steps to the station, welcoming the cooling air of the metal-plated hall. While the whiteish subway tiles in most stations felt like home, the futuristic tinge of Southwark had always felt special. Even if the afternoon bustle could sour your mood and make you throw daggers at any human in your path. There was a dose of relief in the knowledge that it had already been done. You were pissed off beyond measure.

Any innocent bystander could probably see it in the angry square of your shoulders as you strode through the ticketing hall and past the gates. After all those years, there was no need to check the signs; your body knew where to go. Down the escalator, following the graphite signage leading towards the correct platform. Once you were there, you looked up at the timing screen to check the ETAs. Stanmore 2 mins. Thank fuck. Moving down the platform like god intended, you got lost in the chaotic ambience. Sometimes, especially on those difficult days, the noise was better than any music you could listen to. The babbling children, the chatting adults, and, if you were lucky, an odd bark or two in between. That, combined with the PA overhead, was enough to ground you. To take in that deeper breath.

Only that tell-tale whoosh of the approaching train could pull you back into the moment, the body yet again taking the needed steps without you ever telling it to. One step back, not crossing the yellow line. Two steps to the side, aligning with the platform edge doors, yet not standing in the way of those leaving. By the time the train arrived, you were exactly where you were supposed to be. A surveying look inside the cart told you the crowds had been avoided. Luckily. With only a handful of people occupying the space, you stepped aboard and zoned in on one of the empty seats by the window.

It was then that fate chose to intervene again.

You barely stepped in the right direction before the train started again, the sudden movement throwing you off balance and making you drop the bag hung precariously on your shoulder. You watched it fall, unzipped pouch spilling the insides onto the dirty grey floor. Another string of curses lodged in your throat as you knelt among the wreckage of personal items. Before you could reach for the notebook, another hand appeared on the edge of your vision. Long, fair-skinned fingers met yours over the moleskin cover, making you look up and follow the outline of a person. Up over the legs, clad in black jeans and over the bare forearms, revealed by the rolled-up sleeves of a dress, pinstripe shirt. Until you met the striking blue eyes of the man kneeling in front of you, having joined the fray. The stranger stared back, his piercing gaze roaming over your features, seemingly just as struck as you were.

A beat passed, and neither of you moved. You glanced up, taking note of the dirty blonde hair falling over his forehead in disarray. The announcement over the system began calling up Waterloo. It was the wake-up you both seemed in need of. He was the first to shake off the stupor, snatching the notebook to place it in your waiting palm. He shot you a friendly smile, the expression brightening his stunning features.

“Bad day?” his husky voice was another pleasant surprise, shooting through your brain like the restart to the systems you seemed to have been missing.

You looked up to find him one step ahead again. There was something mysterious in his handsome face, instantly making you forego the suspicions against strangers. This one did seem at all dangerous.

At least, you hoped he wasn’t.

A sardonic smile invited itself onto your face. For the first time since the morning, the expression was not forced.

“You could say that” picking up the bag, you accepted the belongings he had collected from the floor and hoped to convey the gratitude through a simple word “Thanks,”

“No worries. Hope that’s everything…” the stranger threw a final glance at the cart floor and got up, brushing the dust off his knees.

The nagging feeling in the back of your head did not ease off, helping you decide what the next step should be. After all, there was no reason to cut the interaction short. One glance out the window told you there was still time. The train had just left the Waterloo station, giving you at least a quarter of an hour till you had to get off.

Perhaps, that was your sign from the petty destiny to get your shit together. Strictly speaking.

“Looks like it,” dropping the remaining items into the pouch, you extended your hand in greeting, “I’m Y/N,” raising your head to find his gaze, you were welcomed with yet another bright smile.

Judging by the lines around his mouth and crinkles in the corners of his eyes, your mysterious saviour did smile a lot. The realisation only strengthened the conviction, pulling you into his orbit effortlessly.

His warm palm engulfed yours in a firm handshake. It lasted just a second too long, yet no complaints were to be raised.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Neil,” the gleam in his eyes was like the poisoned edge of a dagger, a fatal weapon to strike you down should you be reckless.

You knew for sure that face would be hard to forget. Even if you were to never see it again after today.

“You don’t look like a Neil,” catching onto the peculiarity of his name, you shot him a cheeky smile.

Finally remembering what started the ordeal, you took the seat you had been hovering over and motioned for Neil to join you. He did not hesitate.

It only made you like him more.

“Elaborate, please,” the curious tint in his voice, completed by a deadpan look, made you grin, unable to defy his charm.

Not that you were trying to, anyway.

Making a show of giving yourself time to think of an answer, perfected by the loud hum and a hand stroking your chin, you measured him critically. Still amazed by the man Transport for London put on your path. By the seemingly faultless features, harsh lines of his cheekbones and the kind eyes that still held uncertainty that you were all too familiar with.

“You know… a little more geriatric. A little less dashing,” you sent Neil a wink, watching with fascination as the pinkish blush spread over his cheeks.

That sort of reaction was always a compliment. A sign that you should keep going because it could only get better. The frustrating morning had been almost forgotten, having stood no chance against the unpredictability of the interaction.

You could see Neil process the compliment with rapidly blinking eyelids and a parted mouth. Westminster had been called before he spoke again:

“That’s a new one, but I’ll take it,” the blush had faded slightly, yet the disbelief in his pretty eyes told you he was not used to the flattery.

Which was a surprise considering the way he looked. But that, like all the other discoveries you had made within minutes, would have no application. You would likely never see him again.

“You should. I don’t hit on complete strangers every day,” you sent him a pointed look, meaning every word and hoping Neil would see that.

The amused smile he cracked along with a chuckle, were the rewards for the risks you had taken. Being that forward with a stranger could backfire terribly. You had first-hand experience of that. This time, though, no alarm bells were to be heard as you waited for Neil’s response, with your gaze fixed on his face. If only because it was hard to look away.

“Now I’m flattered,” the sparks in his blue eyes burned bright as he took a cursory look out the window and then back to face you with complete focus, “So… do you want to tell me about your day?” the lack of judgement in his gaze helped you decide before you even knew you were considering it.

Usually, confiding in random people met on the tube sounded like a bad idea. Not entirely off-brand for your poor judgements, but still. But this interaction was anything but usual. The temptation was too big to be ignored. You twisted in the plastic seat to face him properly and channelled the anger dormant beneath your skin. It was all too easy to do.

“There’s this guy… We’ve had sex a couple of times, and it was quite good, but now he wants more, and I- I’m not even sure I believe love exists, let alone feel that way about him. Trouble is he doesn’t get the hint, so…” becoming aware you unloaded the whole speech without taking a break to breathe, you took a greedy inhale and spit out the conclusion with a frustrated huff, “He’s just pissed me off” it was a lot.

You could tell Neil was slowly coming to the same conclusions from the dumbfounded look on his face as he processed your rant. He blinked, unseeingly staring at the Jubilee line plan above the opposite seats. The apology was ready on the tip of your tongue when he finally spoke again:

“Overeager?” the sympathetic wince in his face made that same affection stir in your heart.

All because he understood. He got it. And that was rare. Yet again, you contemplated unblocking Liam. This time, to send him Neil’s phone number with an annotation – This guy gets it. He can explain.

But it was hard to say whether Neil would be up for such a task.

“Mm, yeah,” you offered him a tight-lipped smile and a nod, confirming the theory.

“Sorry,” it was your turn to suffer through a double take.

With incredulity filling every inch of your soul, you stared at him in confusion:

“What for?” as the train arrived at another station, you glanced up to check you had not somehow missed your stop.

But it was fine. There was still enough time to continue what was slowly becoming the most fascinating conversation of the previous couple of months, if not years.

It was Neil’s turn to be amused. His eyes roamed over your face as his lips quirked into a smirk. The cheeky expression sent your heart tumbling through the ribcage. You knew he could be dangerous. You were right. Again.

Yet, no sense of foreboding danger could make you look away. That was for the weak. Or the smarter.

“Being a representative of the male species,” Neil shrugged as if his answer did not leave you agape with amazement, “I know almost everything is our fault, one way or another,” the slight grimace passing through his face told you he knew that was an understatement.

But it was better than nothing. Better than the load of self-entitlement and egocentrism displayed by most of the men you had ever met. It sure did set him apart.

“Guess that’s true,” nodding in agreement, you chose to forego the subtlety and reached out to pat his hand, “Thank you, though,” yet met his eyes, not trying to hide the extent of impression he had left on you “I can already tell you’re a better representant of the species than Liam,”

The fading anger at that man seemed so distant now. Like a dream that you could no longer remember, except for how it made you feel. Liam would stay blocked and hopefully never seen again, but now you could finally see yourself having a pleasant evening. That felt like a reward in itself.

“And he’s called Liam? Good god,” Neil’s dismayed tone was the one to bring you back to the present.

The smile played in the corner of his lips. The amused expression was fast becoming your favourite. Which could be problematic, but you were never the one to search your soul if that was uncalled for. Which it definitely wasn’t.

“I know” sharing an eye-roll with your companion, you chose to focus the attention on that second part of the shit day, “The other thing that happened was how I fucked up the ballet practice” almost automatically, you winced, self-consciously rolling the right ankle as if feeling the phantom pain of the twist that never came (thank god) “But it also can be blamed on him,”

Too caught up in the thoughts of vengeance you would never actually implement, you missed Neil’s surprise, reflecting through the widened eyes and an intense stare boring through your temple.

What you did not miss was a question uttered with so much disbelief that your head swivelled in its direction faster than you thought possible:

“Hold on, ballet practice?” Neil’s scrunched-up face, complete with a frown between eyebrows and mouth agape, was the reason for your giggle.

“Yup, I’m a ballerina at the Royal Ballet,” there was an unusual sense of pride in the proclamation.

Probably because it had been a long time since you got a reaction this stunned. You did not remember the last time someone looked starstruck when hearing about your occupation.

“I’ve never met one before,” his blue eyes still roamed over your face with amazement as Neil confirmed the obvious.

While attention was always pleasant and a reason you got into professional ballet in the first place, this kind of focus felt different. It made the rare blush dust your cheeks as joy surged in your veins from the sheer force of being noticed. From being seen through the best you could offer rather than the multitude of shortcomings that were all easy to find.

“Well, now you have,” you opened your arms in the ta-dah motion and added, “A second soloist, to be exact,” the hierarchical promotion was still an additional point of pride.

A result of years of practice and mental conditioning to try and improve. The culmination of hours of pep talks, pleading to your strength not to give up. To keep on trying. A proof that you were good enough. But it was also a reminder that you were not there yet. That there was still more to achieve.

“I’ve no clue what that means,” the apologetic tone in Neil’s voice was another reason for a smile.

Without thinking, you nudged his shoulder with yours and grinned upon noticing the bashful blush creeping back onto his cheeks. That alone was a reason to delve into the explanation:

“That I’ve still got a long way to go if I want to get promoted to principal dancer. Which is the dream,” hope waged war with scepticism as you chose to stare at the window opposite the seats, taking note of the passing darkness of the tunnels outside. That moment of wistfulness inspired the next thing you said, “You could come to see me if you wanted to,” it was another risk taken.

Another potential to end the conversation prematurely by misjudging the limit. Before you could find the tenacity to see the reaction, Neil’s question got rid of the doubts:

“Are you hitting on strangers again?” the smile in his voice was matched by a cheeky grin on his face.

The brightness in his eyes told you he was enjoying the conversation, that it was not just you who been silently wishing for more time. For more opportunities to continue the back-and-forth, testing the limits of what was acceptable within an unusual connection like yours. Because, surely, there were limits. Right?

“You’re not a stranger anymore, Neil,” instead of searching for the lines drawn in the metaphorical sand, you laid a careful hand on his shoulder and watched with the breath caught in your chest as he glanced at it and back at your face. The only indication that too was not a misstep was the darkening shade of pink on his cheeks and the persistent smile, motivating you to land a double strike, “I am, though. Is that bad?” innocently batting your lashes, you signed off the move with a quick stroke of fingers, tracing the collar of Neil’s shirt.

He swallowed hard, clearly reacting to your risqué move. The goosebumps rose on his skin following your touch, making your smile widen. Unwilling to stop the fascinating game just yet, your fingertips skimmed down the front of his shirt to strengthen the invisible lines in the collar and encircle the tortoiseshell button. As your fingers drifted ever so closer to the bared sliver of the chest revealed by the two buttons left undone, Neil gasped and met your searching gaze with an intense look of his own. It was easy to see the curiosity there, brewing underneath the composure. Not for the first time since you met, you wondered what else was hiding behind that steel-like grip of control. What else was there to discover?

“I’m not complaining,” answering your question with ease, Neil did not flinch away from your taxing gaze.

It was good to know. Just because.

Unable to look away, you realised that your hand was outstretched with the fingers lightly touching the collar of his shirt. The heat from his skin radiated onto your palm, making your fingers flex unconsciously. It was your turn to swallow against the sudden dryness in your throat, as yet again you found yourself arrested by his gaze. Like then, the time seemed frozen, leaving you stranded between one heartbeat and the next. You were content to stay there.

Only the familiar announcement over the PA system could wake you up. The train is now approaching St. John’s Wood. Your body jolted awake with the curse ready on your tongue:

“Shit, that’s my stop” a spiteful glance at the darkness of the tunnels outside was a reflex, born out of the annoyance for the world that did not seem to care about your happiness or the desire to stay in that Jubilee line train cart till the very end of times. The anger passed quickly, yet you knew the frustration would persevere long after you made it home. The only way to push back against it was to turn your focus back to Neil, “It’s been a pleasure. I’d say I won’t forget you, but I’m not sure I can promise that,” the exaggeration in the statement, and the knowledge that it was unlikely you would forget him, were better left unsaid.

As much as the chance meeting was everything you never dreamt of experiencing, it was just that. A pleasant outlier. The one-off happening, that would never happen again. You could feel the sharp prickle of that realisation stab at your consciousness as you checked whether all your belongings were accounted for and got up from the seat. The train was slowing in the approach at the platform, forcing you to grab onto the nearest railing.

“Try your hardest,” Neil’s response made you whip your head back up to stare at him in confusion until the meaning of his words caught up.

Then you could only grin, willing to stretch the limits one last time.

“Or?” the question was accompanied by the tip of your tongue running over your lower lip as your eyes traced Neil’s gaze.

He caught the hook. The intrigue and hunger in his stare proved the point as he glanced at your mouth, not even trying to resist the obvious trick. You were glad it worked.

One look at the world beyond told you there was no time to lose. The familiar voice called out to make sure everyone minded the gaps, and you could not help but throw one final glance at Neil. His dirty blonde strands caught the fluorescents and created a washed-out halo-like effect. The blue eyes were still fixed on you, observing and calculating. Yet again, a wayward thought begged you to stay. To say fuck it and check what could happen if you had more time. But the courage was not quite there when the train came to a stop, and the doors slid open.

Before you could take that decisive step outside, Neil replied:

“I’ll be disappointed,” the smile in his voice was an easy trigger, bringing a breathless chuckle to your lips.

You still laughed as the doors closed behind you and the train started moving away from the platform. You did not look back, letting the crowd of commuters carry you along the tunnels and towards your apartment. It was better that way.

Only once you got back home did you realise one crucial fact. One simple observation easily missed in the rush of thoughts about striking blue eyes and sharp cheekbones. It had been hours since Liam crossed your mind. And somehow, it all made sense.

#neil tenet #tenet movie #tenet 2020 #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet fanfic #neil tenet imagine #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson x y/n #robert pattinson imagine #deadlines & commitments

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maefansblog · 4 months

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There was a question on reddit that was wondering how they could possibly do Eloise's season based on the character development based on the show compared to the book. How would they be able to keep the essence of TV Eloise but still follow the plot of her book?

I had some thoughts on Eloise that I wanted to share which could go into Spoiler Territory.

Long Post:

I was thinking when we saw Violet dancing with Marcus Anderson in the trailer, what Eloise must be thinking and how lonely she would be. Daphne and Anthony are married. Colin is getting married, and her best friend, who she thought she was going to spinsters together, is now getting married. Even though their relationship is broken, and even if their relationship gets repaired, it's not going to be the same because she has to share time with Colin-just like the books. Everyone in her life has fallen in love, moving on in their lives, and it might feel like they are almost leaving her behind.

A lot of Eloise's fears stem from her parents. Edmund and Violet were deeply in love. Then her father dies, and Eloise sees Violet crumble. We saw Anthony's flashback in Season 2. She is probably pushing back on marriage because of this. Of course, she doesn't want to be trapped in a marriage and lose who she is. Yet she also doesn't want to love someone only to have them leave her (like Anthony). Eloise also saw what a difficult pregnancy and birthing process her mother had with Hyacinth. Violet also had 8 kids!!! She has a lot of trauma seeing her mother in such pain. Eloise almost lost both of her parents. She is also the middle child. She knows she has to be loud to be heard or she will be forgotten.

I don't know if Benedict or Eloise will be next. I have a feeling Benedict will be next. In the books, Marina passes away. Eloise has turned down several proposals already. Sir Philip starts writing Eloise. Eloise would be losing another brother to marriage/love. Her favorite brother. She is starting to see how love has made her siblings' lives have a purpose and begins to heal the hurt that she has.

I think Eloise's story will stem from a place of loneliness and the wanting to connect with someone. A friend who is grieving the loss of his wife possibly. Sir Philip and Eloise begin writing letters. Then their story begins.

Eloise can still have thoughts about wanting to be an individual, and anyone who would be with her would love that about her-not clip her wings. Philip is an honorable man thirsty for love after his loveless marriage with Marina. He is well traveled, educated, and would want to nurture Eloise's spirit. Yes, he needs a mother for Amanda and Oliver. By this time, she has quite a few nephews and nieces. She also has dealt with her younger siblings. She would have to heal her child trauma for her story to make sense.

(Added just now) If you want to read the rest of Eloise's story, read "To Sir Philip With Love." I'm more versed with the show and Romancing Mr. Bridgerton. Polin is my go-to. I've read TSPWL, but not as much as RMB. I'll re-read one of these days, but honestly, I wasn't a fan. Hope the show does a better job with Eloise's story!!!

#bridgerton #eloise bridgerton just watching her mom dancing #eloise bridgerton #Eloise bridgerton character analysis #to sir philip with love #netflix bridgerton #phillip crane #sir phillip crane #I'm ok with them completely changing the plot #but Eloise still has to Runaway from home and the brothers find her #that has to stay #also #we'll suit #😏#mine #i don't use same usernames on every account #i like privacy

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inosukes-boar-mask · 4 months

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Random ahh Bernadine 21st century au headcanons because im bored as fuck (if y'all don't like this then just scroll idc this is my hcs and i can type whatever i want 😁 kidding)

She works as an architect because she really likes to draw and design some buildings and stuff. (I mentioned this in the previous au that I've made about the Rochesters so-)

Aside from being an Architect, she still does embroidery as her hobby. But aside from this, she also does some crocheting as well and she sometimes sells them online. (And she gives some of those stuffs to her children)

Before getting to college, she used to be a popular girl at school. She's very smart, very pretty, and she's part of every other clubs there. (Music club, arts club, and she's even part of the cheerleading squad) she gives a mean girl energy at first during her teenage years but when they'll talk to her, she's a softie and she's a really nice person after all.

Dated a random guy at some point in her teenage years but decided to broke it up because she really doesn't see her future with that guy (and she kinda knew the random guy was a redflag so that's why she immediately broke up with him)

She studied at Harvard University and was even torn and confused if she wants to pursue Fine Arts or Architecture. (But she decided to go to Architecture because she wants to try something new) also, she graduated magna cum laude there cuz she's just too good.

A huge bookworm. She literally has an entire library at her house and most of them are full of classic stories. (She hates erotic romance/smut books btw because she thinks they don't make any sense)

She wears glasses sometimes. (Like the same frame as Archie) She kinda has a bad eyesight now so that's why she sometimes wears them when she's reading something or going out

She likes her coffee black. Especially if it's really strong because it keeps her up all day

An ambivert. She's friendly but only to some people that she really likes to talk and to hang out with.

She plays candy crush saga and she's on level 4000+ now. She has been addicted to that game ever since.

Obviously has a Gen X (or a millennial) humor. She gets weirded out on her children's gen alpha humor (she wonders what the fuck is skibidi toilet sigma alpha Ohio is and where did that kind of humor come from)

Secretly likes anime. She doesn't tell everyone about it (except Arthur) but she really likes watching them since 5th grade. Her most favorite anime of all time is Sailor Moon. But she also likes Bleach, Attack on Titan, Dragon Ball, Naruto, and Jujutsu Kaisen too. (Damn she knows peak anime 🙏🏻🙏🏻) And aside from these peak anime that I've mentioned... She also likes studio ghibli movies as well. (Oh and she recently discovered Blue Lock from his son Alex)

Married to Arthur since 2006. They have 3 children together. First one is Leopold Alexander, aka Alex. (born in 2009) and the second one is Alessandra Marie, aka Sandy. (Born in 2012) And the third and the youngest one is Benedict Andrew, aka Ben. (born in 2015).

Her birthday is in August 24th and she's a Virgo (ion fw zodiac signs but I'll just randomly put this here)

A very good mother and also a great wife as well. She doesn't have a specific favorite child something like that. She loves them all and she always cherishes every single moments with them. She also sobbed at her son Alex's 15th birthday btw. Because she cannot believe her firstborn child is growing up so fast now.

Half of the buildings, malls, and the modern, huge skyscrapers in Concordia are mostly designed by her. (Heck even the current house that she's currently living with is also designed by her 👀)

#criminal case #criminal case mysteries of the past #criminal case headcanons #bernadine rochester #idk why am i doing this #lmao what #eeeeeee

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o-uncle-newt · 10 months

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Cabin Pressure Advent Day 16: Paris

PAAAAAARRRRRRIIIISSSS!

There are not words for how much I love this episode, there really aren't. I actually listened to it early this morning because I was so excited, and then had to deal with a difficult personal situation and was like "oh dang I wish I hadn't listened to it yet so I could cheer up from it now!" But I had, so I listened to Hot Desk (from Double Acts) instead. Also very effective.

Anyway- I love everything about this episode, because I LOVE Golden Age mysteries! I'm not super well read on all the different authors, but I've had a lot of fun over the years reading Conan Doyle (and Poe and Wilkie Collins, if we're going that far back), Chesterton, Christie, and more recently Sayers, and even more recently have read a smattering as well of John Dickson Carr, Margery Allingham, Anthony Berkeley, and a bunch of others. To digress a little, I highly highly recommend Martin Edwards's excellent book The Golden Age of Murder and his wonderful short-story anthology compilations and reprints- it really got me on a kick of trying to read a bit more broadly in the genre after discovering how much I loved reading a few specific authors growing up. It's been really rewarding and I highly recommend it!

Now, the thing with Paris is that the popular backstory is "John Finnemore had Benedict Cumberbatch on the show, he became famous as Sherlock on Sherlock, Finnemore thought it would be funny to do a mystery themed one as a result, and so we have Marin Crieff as "Miss Marple." Which is apparently not UNtrue per se, but JF himself has said that he always planned to do a mystery episode. Which makes sense, as in the first link just now JF makes clear that Golden Age mysteries are his "trashy fiction of choice," about which I can only say amen!

Which is what makes the episode so great- because it's super clear what kind of love for the genre he put into the episode as a result. There's the Christie- obviously the Miss Marple references but also the "gathering everyone together in the parlor" thing (which she doesn't do ALL the time... but she does PRETTY often lol). There's obviously the Conan Doyle reference, which is "snappily put," as Douglas says. There's a fun reference to Raffles- who may not be a detective himself but is definitely a cousin to the whodunnit genre (or shall we say brother-in-law, as he was Conan Doyle's...), and there's "Crieff of the Yard," which is a phrase that I'm confident has a basis in detective writing but that I'm not able to pinpoint, which is annoying. Arthur's example of the monkey at the circus also evokes a few stories of MASSIVELY varying quality involving unlikely murderous animals, which is always fun. (And parenthetically, while there are no Sayers references that I can find, I will say that I continue to be confident that the dog-collar plotline in Here's What We Do from Double Acts is a reference to the dog-collar plotline in Gaudy Night. He has never confirmed it but like, how could it not be? Or at least so I tell myself.)

But all of that is window dressing- the episode itself is a beautifully written impossible crime mystery, and I love that about it. JF has mentioned that he likes John Dickson Carr, who was big for locked room mysteries/impossible crimes- though loads of writers wrote them (including, incidentally, AA Milne, who you likely know better from Winnie the Pooh, who wrote a fun early example of the genre that you can read here for free because of that magical phenomenon, copyright expiration). And this episode is just such a good example of one that it makes me wish that JF would get into the whodunnit-writing game more broadly (beyond his Cain's Jawbone sequel). If Richard Osman can do it...!

In one of the above-linked blogposts, JF mentions that it's "pleasing how naturally my main cast fitted into familiar roles from the detective fiction genre - the meticulous detective, his devoted assistant, his no nonsense boss… and his nemesis, the Napoleon of crime." Which is awesome, but I think there's even more there. I particularly love that it's an impossible crime mystery in a closed circle. While there's a genre of whodunnit where you have the corpse or whatever and have to cast a wide net to find witnesses and clues, writers there often either have to make the potential dead ends in the detective work REALLY interesting or rely a lot on coincidence. Closed circle crimes (like ones at a country house or within a workplace or somewhere with guards at all the doors or something like that) can help mystery writers focus in on the story without having to worry too much about the logistics of "why these people?" and it's why you get so many mysteries set on trains or ships or islands or whatever. And an airplane is one of the best closed circles there is, because unless you're DB Cooper you're not getting out. Agatha Christie did an early one in Death in the Clouds which is a lot of fun, and this episode is a great example.

The fun thing about closed circle whodunnits and impossible crime mysteries is that the whole point of them is that usually, the author is just straight up lying to you. There's a vent for a snake to go through, or a secret doorway to the outside, or the time when the door was locked or the circle was closed isn't actually when the crime took place, but a fake gunshot makes you think it was. And that's why I love this so much- because the author/liar of the mystery is Douglas. He's the genre savvy one. He's the one who's lying, he's the one who's turning it all into a whodunnit, and he's waiting to see if he can get away with it. He's the Napoleon of Crime- and a Columbo villain setting up the false trail that he hopes Columbo will fall for.

Because... and JF notes this in both blog posts... there's no mystery here! Obviously Douglas did it. The point here is that this episode is like if Columbo was as dumb as he seemed and the criminal managed to lead him down the garden path and got away with it. It's "what if Poirot were a moron but still had to solve the murder of Roger Ackroyd." Douglas is the one who creates an impossible crime scheme, anticipates that he'll still be suspected because, well, he's him, and manages to come up with alternative scenarios- including ones that open the seemingly closed circle of the crime- that are convincing enough to throw Martin off the scent. Without him, it would just be "so how did Douglas do it this time?"

Now, the impossible crime is still important, because while we all kind of know that Douglas did it, we still don't know how he did it. And from that perspective alone, JF's impossible crime puzzle is genius. The clues that he drops are really interesting (I'm not 100% sure I see the nail polish bottle as being fair play, but plenty of whodunnits aren't so I don't really care) and it's something that, even as we see Douglas writing a whole separate decoy mystery (reminiscent of his decoy apple juice?) on top of his own scheme, keeps us intrigued throughout even once it becomes pretty clear that Douglas has been snowing all of them. So all of that is fun- but it's far more fun with all the other tropes and schemes and false trails laid on top of it, giving it so many more dimensions.

And then, at the end, nobody solves it- the detective's reveal, after all the carefully left false trails, comes from the thief himself.

It's just... so beautiful. Ahhhh.

I feel like (and one of the blog posts mentions this) that there's a question of whether Douglas actually pulled it off, particularly in the context of whether Martin would really need to pay Carolyn at the end. My opinion is: practically, yes, Douglas stole the whiskey. If Birling hadn't offered them the cufflinks, he'd never have revealed his trick and he'd have had ample opportunity the rest of the trip to empty his decoy apple juice in the sink, replace it with whiskey, and fill up the bottle with cheap whiskey from the plane's bar or the Paris airport duty free. (Or whatever his plan was- but that seems plausible.) Carolyn would have never known once they returned. And the episode leaves open whether practically speaking Martin actually does have to pay Carolyn, but thematically... yes, of course he does, the whole question here is "is Douglas the organ grinder" and the answer is that he obviously is. The monkey's gotta pay up!

I love, incidentally, so many more things about this episode- the humor, Mr Birling, the ways in which everything is so true to character, basically everything about Arthur... but I've already gone on long enough.

#cabin pressure #cabin pressure advent 2023 #cabin pressure advent #john finnemore #paris

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