#ladies code background

[highlifeboat]

Does anybody remember the show Wayside?

This show and Jacob Two Two just randomly popped into my mind and they feel like such a fever dream. But I remember really loving Wayside and nobody else I knew watched it.

Anyway they needed to free my boy Todd

EVERYBODY had it out for this kid. Even the girl who liked him was constantly punching him. He did NOT deserve that treatment.

[lonelysatoru]

i just thought about it. why the hell did sanji’s leg catch on fire when he was fighting the wolf cp9? i know he doesn’t have devil fruit powers so what the hell is going on with him

[pomegranatelifethis]

Why doesn't anyone see me?

Warnings before you start There are disturbing elements, self-harm, eating disorders, and implicit mentions of harassment.

The grand hallways of Wayne Manor looked magnificent from the outside, but to you, they were nothing more than cold stone. You were sixteen, and in this house, in this family, you had always been just a shadow. The man you called your father — Bruce Wayne — had left you to drown in his darkness. The marks on your body, on your arms, back, legs... each was a silent scream. Each one reminded you how a world you once trusted had torn you apart. And the worst part? The one who did this wasn’t a stranger. It was someone who had existed in the background of your life, like a ghost.

You tried to speak up once. That night, you opened the door to his study. Bruce sat at his desk, surrounded by files and glowing monitors. His Batman suit hung in the corner — as if that costume was his real face.

“Dad,” you said, your voice trembling. “I need to talk.”

He looked up, his blue eyes tired, distant. “What is it?” he asked, but there was no real curiosity in his tone.

You took a deep breath, trying to ease the tightness in your chest. “I... Something happened. A while ago. And it still…” The words got stuck in your throat. You didn’t want to show him the scars — but maybe, just maybe, he would understand. Maybe he’d see you.

But Bruce lowered his head back to his files. “Now’s not the time,” he said, voice flat. “A lot’s going on in the city. We’ll talk later.”

Later. Always later.

You closed the door behind you, and tears began to slide down your cheeks. Batman could save Gotham — but he didn’t even try to save you.

The next day, you turned to Jason. The rebel of the family, a soul forged in his own pain. Maybe he’d understand.

You found him in the garage, working on his motorcycle.

“Jason,” you said, stepping closer. “I need to ask you something.”

He looked at you, wiping his hands with a grease-stained rag. “What do you want, princess?” he said with a mocking lilt.

You swallowed hard, gathering your courage. “Something happened to me. Something bad. And no one’s listening. I have scars—here,” you said, pulling up your sleeve slightly to show a faded mark.

Jason fell silent for a moment — then laughed.

“Everyone’s got issues, little lady. Go outside, see what I’ve seen. Then come back and cry.”

His words hit like a blade.

“But this is serious!” you cried, your voice cracking.

“Serious?” he snapped, standing and getting close. “You mean your little princess trauma? Grow up.”

Under his sneer, you felt yourself shrink. He didn’t see you either. He left you, too.

You decided to try Damian. Despite his young age, he had a sharp mind. Maybe he had noticed something.

You found him in the training room, practicing with a sword.

“Damian,” you said from the doorway. “Do you have a minute?”

He turned to you, green eyes cold and calculating.

“What do you want?” he asked, stabbing the blade into the floor.

“I… Something happened to me. And it’s hard to carry,” you said, choosing your words carefully.

He frowned, then smirked. “You’re weak,” he said, flatly.

“What?” was all you could manage.

“If you can’t carry it, then you don’t belong in this family. I know pain — but all you do is complain.”

His words were poison. His scorn felt worse than Jason’s mockery. Because Damian saw you as a burden. And in that moment, you felt the final thread tying you to this family snap.

You found Tim in the library, headphones in, eyes on his laptop.

“Tim,” you said, sitting beside him.

He pulled out one earbud. “Yeah?” he replied, eyes still on the screen.

“I need to ask you something. It’s important.”

“One sec, let me finish this line of code,” he mumbled.

Minutes passed. You sat there, waiting.

Eventually, he said, “Just tell me later,” and put his headphones back in.

He hadn’t even heard you.

Dick seemed different — or so you thought.

You found him in the lounge, laughing, mid-conversation.

“Dick, can we talk?” you asked, voice faint.

He turned to you with his bright smile. “Of course, little one! What’s up?”

But before you could say more than “I…” his phone rang.

“Hold that thought — I gotta take this,” he said, walking away.

He never came back.

That night, in your room, you stood before the mirror. You looked at the scars — each one a story no one wanted to hear. Tears wouldn’t stop. This house, this family, was a prison. Bruce didn’t see you. Jason mocked you. Damian belittled you. Tim and Dick didn’t even notice you were there. You might have been Batman’s daughter, but in this place, you were nothing.

You walked to the window and looked out at the lights of Gotham. Maybe it was time to leave. Maybe you couldn’t escape your family, but you could escape this silence. You packed a small bag — a hoodie, some money, a long-sleeve shirt to cover the marks. At the door, you paused. Maybe someone would notice. Maybe someone would stop you.

But the hallway was quiet. No one came.

As you stepped into the street, the cold air slapped your face. Were you free? Or just stepping into a different kind of shadow? You didn’t know. But at least now… now, you were trying to find your own voice.

Gotham’s streets swallowed you whole. You had escaped Wayne Manor, but the darkness inside you came along for the ride. What you thought was freedom was just another kind of prison — this time, one built within your own mind. With your bag slung over your shoulder, you walked under the flickering streetlights. The cold concrete beneath your feet was a warning: No one here is coming to save you. But you weren’t expecting to be saved anyway. Your family had never seen you; maybe you really were invisible.

Days passed. You holed up in a cheap motel, using the credit card your father once gave you. You knew the money would run out — but you didn’t care. Under the dim lights of the room, you stared into the mirror. The scars were still there — on your arms, your back, your legs. Each one whispered that you were something filthy, something ruined. You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms.

“Why me?” you murmured.

No answer.

The reflection staring back filled you with disgust. This body, these scars… it was all your fault, wasn’t it? If you had been stronger, if you had spoken louder, maybe your family would have heard you. But you hadn’t. You were weak. Damian was right.

---________________________________________---

Days blurred into weeks. Gotham’s gray sky felt like a mirror to your soul. In the motel’s small bathroom, you sat with a cheap razor in your hand. You stared at your scars… and added new ones. Thin lines of blood appeared — but they didn’t bring relief. Pain couldn’t fill the emptiness. Every cut echoed the rejection you’d endured. Bruce’s cold “Not now.” Jason’s mocking laugh. Damian’s “You’re weak.” Tim and Dick’s silence. It all etched itself into your skin.

Every time you looked in the mirror, the hate grew.

“This is my fault,” you whispered.

Your eyes were swollen. Hair tangled. You’d stopped eating — your stomach turned at the thought of food. Sleep brought nightmares. Again and again, you relived the trauma — shadows, hands, the silence of your unheard screams.

When you woke, clutching your pillow, all you felt was emptiness.

Your family hadn’t called. Maybe they didn’t notice. Maybe they didn’t care.

Batman saved Gotham.

But not his own daughter.

Depression wrapped itself around you like a blanket — cold and heavy. Hurting yourself became a routine. Your arms were covered in cuts, but even that wasn’t enough.

“I’m worthless,” you said one night, your voice breaking.

“No one wants me. Not even me.”

You punched the mirror. Glass cracked. Your knuckles bled.

Still, you felt nothing.

Then, one day, everything stopped.

You lay on the stained motel bed, razor in hand again. Sirens wailed outside, but your world was quiet. You looked at your scars one last time.

“It’s over,” you said.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Tears slid down your cheeks as you thought of your family — Bruce buried in files, Jason fixing his bike, Damian swinging a sword, Tim staring into his screen, Dick laughing…

None of them had seen you.

None of them had heard you.

This time, you used the blade one last time.

There would be no coming back.

The blood soaked the sheets — slow and silent.

You stared at the ceiling. Through the window, Gotham’s gray sky watched over you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure to whom.

Your breathing slowed.

Darkness closed in.

The sirens faded.

Bruce Wayne’s daughter vanished into the shadows.

---________________________________________---

The next day, the motel worker knocked, but there was no answer.

They opened the door — and found you.

The police report was brief:

“Female, aged …, suicide.”

When the call reached Wayne Manor, Bruce finally put his files down.

Jason went quiet.

Damian dropped his sword.

Tim turned off his screen.

Dick’s smile faded.

But it was too late.

They hadn’t seen you.

They hadn’t heard you.

And now… they never would.

---________________________________________---

[roosterforme]

Wrong Number | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was planning on a quiet night at home with a beer and a basketball game on TV. When he receives a text from a wrong number, he's left looking at a beautiful photo of you. Now he just needs to persuade you to ditch the guy you meant to text and focus on him instead.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, slight dirty talk, Bradley touching himself

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written for Rocktober. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger

Bradley had endured such a long week at work, all he wanted to do was change out of his uniform, grab a beer from his fridge and lounge around on the couch in his underwear without a responsibility in sight. Nobody should have to work until ten on a Friday night, but it had taken him that long to sort through the massive stack of paperwork from Admiral Simpson. At least now he had nothing planned for the rest of his evening.

His apartment was too hot, and the cold bottle of beer pressed to his bare thigh as he reached for the TV remote left some droplets of condensation. It felt good. He took another sip as his phone vibrated next to him. With a soft grunt, he abandoned the remote in favor of the phone and unlocked it with his pass code.

There was a new text from an unknown number. And there was a photo attached. He grimaced, afraid of what he was going to find if he tapped on it. He read the phone number twice, but it didn't sound familiar beyond the San Diego area code. He let his head tip back as he recalled the time he pissed Nat off and she gave his phone number to a random sailor in retaliation. Bradley really hoped he wasn't going to have to kindly ask someone to stop sending him dick pics like last time. 

Before he lost the nerve, he tapped on the message, and his screen was suddenly filled with a photo of a woman who looked just a few years younger than him. And she was hot. He paused with his beer bottle halfway to his lips before letting it settle back down to his thigh. 

Hey, Alan. It's me. So now you have my phone number, too.

Bradley didn't know who the hell Alan was, but he wasn't mad about the mix-up. This photo was something else. It almost looked like it was taken in the bathroom at the Hard Deck. The lighting was bad, and there was a paper towel dispenser in the background, but whoever you were.... damn, you were stunning. All pretty features and smiling like you had a secret. 

It took him a moment to stop staring at the photo and return to the previous screen and your message. He was going to have to tell you that he wasn't Alan and that you had the wrong number, but he just sat there and tapped his phone case instead. He didn't even like the name Alan, but damn if he didn't want to be Alan right now. That lucky bastard had you interested in him. 

Bradley was wondering how the mix-up happened in the first place as he drafted up a text to you. Only some sort of fucking idiot wouldn't check and double check that he gave you the right number. "Amateurs," he mumbled as he typed with a little smirk on his face.

Hey, sorry to inform you, but this actually isn't Alan. However, I wouldn't mind one bit if you kept sending me the photos that are meant for him.

He hit send and tossed his phone aside, assuming you'd just block him and move on with your night. He brought his beer bottle back to his lips and enjoyed the way the drink helped cool him down while he contemplated taking a shower, but when he reached for the remote again, his phone vibrated. 

There was another message from the same number. Intrigued, Bradley unlocked his phone again, and he was pleased to see another text and another photo.

Hi, Not-Alan. Sorry about that! I hope you have a great night.

This photo was similar to the first one, except that you were flipping him the peace sign and winking which made Bradley laugh. You seemed fun, even through this limited interaction. And he was sure that was the ladies' bathroom at the Hard Deck, which pissed him off, because he got out of work so late he didn't feel like going out tonight. Maybe if he had been there, you wouldn't have been talking to Alan in the first place.

"Damn it." He was intrigued. He wanted to know more about this.

My night is substantially better now that I have two photos of you. So where did Alan get off to anyway? And why is he trying to steal my phone number?

This time Bradley was dying for another response. But it didn't come. He stared at his phone for a solid minute before returning to his beer and downing the rest of the bottle. Still nothing. He stood and made his way into the kitchen, tossing his empty into the recycling bin before getting another one from the fridge and eyeing up the food situation. He should probably eat something, but he swore he heard his phone vibrating. When he looked over to the couch, the screen was lit up. 

He slammed the fridge door and opened the new bottle before heading back to his phone. There was no photo this time, but there was a new message.

I actually lost Alan in the crowd, so really, the man could be just about anywhere. And I don't think he was trying to steal your number at all, Not-Alan. He wrote it on my palm, and it smeared before I could add it to my phone.

"Okay," Bradley said out loud. "Now we're getting somewhere." He sat down on the couch with his beer on the coffee table and started a new message. 

Alan should learn how to write neater in the future, because he's missing out here. You have to double check that someone who looks like you got the number right. Everyone knows that.

Bradley decided that he was going to have no shame for the night. Not as long as you kept writing back to him. He was contemplating how to save your number in his phone when another selfie with a message came through. You were out by the bar at the Hard Deck with a smile on your face, and you were holding up your palm complete with Bradley's smeared phone number.

Does this number look familiar, Not-Alan? Still no actual Alan in sight, by the way. 

Bradley supposed that the 7 could have been mistaken for a 1. Or maybe Alan's phone number had a 5 that got smeared into a 6. It didn't really matter. Bradley was going to shoot his shot and hope Alan didn't resurface. 

Good, Alan can just stay lost. What's your name, pretty girl?

Then he saved your number as Pretty Girl, and this time he did manage to turn the TV on while he waited with his phone in his hand. He muted the Clippers game and picked up his beer before promptly setting it back down again.

Pretty Girl: Not so fast, Not-Alan. You tell me your name first. And how old you are. And your blood type and the last four of your social security number. 

Bradley laughed and started typing. He realized he hadn't stopped smiling for the last twenty minutes as he hit send.

I'm Bradley. I'm 34. O positive. 2305.

On a regular night, the basketball game would have held his attention, but tonight he couldn't stop looking at his phone. "Come on, Pretty Girl," he muttered, running his beer bottle along his thigh before taking a sip. 

Pretty Girl: Okay, Bradley. You have my attention. Send me a selfie exactly where you are, and I'll think about telling you my name. No changing into something nicer. No fixing your hair. Just a selfie. Right now.

Bradley looked down at himself in just his black boxer briefs and mumbled, "If you say so." When he set his phone camera to selfie mode, he looked at the screen and realized his hair still looked pretty decent from work. So he went ahead and took a picture where he was wearing a bit of a skeptical smirk, and he sent it before he could think twice. 

And now his heart was beating a little faster. This was probably where you'd stop responding. Oh hell, at least he went for it, but a few minutes later, you still hadn't sent anything back to him. Maybe he could have tried to hide the scars on his neck and cheek, but what was the point? Clearly you were sending him actual selfies you'd taken tonight, and he did exactly what you'd told him to. Then his phone vibrated.

Pretty Girl: Do you really expect me to believe that you're not just googling "hot shirtless guy with a mustache", downloading a photo, and trying to pass it off as yourself?

He tipped his head back and laughed. There was just something about you. He didn't even know your name or what your voice sounded like, but he could already tell he was going to like both of those things. If you ever told him or let him hear you.

That's really me. Promise. Will you tell me your name now? Or do I have to keep calling you Pretty Girl?

He was wondering if you were still at the bar, surrounded by guys like Alan who would love to take you home while you were chatting with him. And he hoped the next text would contain your name. But you just ignored him when you wrote back a few minutes later. 

Pretty Girl: Prove you're not just sending some photos of a random hot dude. Go stand by your open refrigerator and take a selfie. Then take another one with your toothbrush. 

"She's a handful," Bradley murmured as he stood with a smile. He carried his beer into the kitchen, opened his refrigerator and snapped a selfie where the fridge light somehow accentuated his features nicely. Then he left his beer on the counter while he went into his bathroom. He was actively trying not to smile for this one where he had his red toothbrush hanging out of the side of his mouth, but he was on the verge of laughing at how ridiculous his night turned out to be. 

He typed up a message and attached both photos and then sent them off while he finished his beer at the kitchen counter, Clippers game forgotten. 

What is this, Pretty Girl? A hostage negotiation? I already told you, that's really me.

It didn't take too long for you to respond this time, and Bradley wasn't even letting his screen dim long enough to need to unlock it now.

Pretty Girl: Are you naked in these photos?

"Jesus," he muttered. Of course he wasn't. Did you want him to be? Shit, he needed to stop thinking about that.

No! I'm wearing underwear. You told me not to get changed or anything.

He felt flushed and too warm as he set his phone down on the counter and went to open some windows. Then he walked a few laps around his apartment in an effort to chill the fuck out. He wasn't even with you, and you were under his skin. 

When he returned to his phone, there was a selfie and a message waiting for him. In the photo, you were sipping a drink, and the way the straw pressed to your perfect lips had him practically moaning. 

Pretty Girl: My friend thinks there's something wrong with me. I'm at a Navy bar in San Diego at the moment. There are hot guys galore, and yet I'm glued to my phone. 

"Shit, shit, shit." Bradley thought about getting dressed and heading out to the bar himself. Then maybe he could hear you tell him your name in person right before he pulled the straw away from your mouth and kissed you.

How much longer are you going to be at the Hard Deck, Pretty Girl?

Bradley started heading for his bedroom closet when his phone vibrated in his hand.

Pretty Girl: How do you know I'm at the Hard Deck? Do I need to smash my phone to bits and go into hiding?

"Fuck," he grunted, typing so quickly he had to go back and fix several spelling errors before he could send it. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, so he paused before getting any clothing out of his closet.

Because I'm in the Navy, and I live in San Diego. And I recognized the inside of the bathroom from the first photo you sent me. I swear I'm not creepy. You can ask Penny, the bartender and owner of that fine establishment. I spend enough time there. Show her my photo.

Bradley collapsed onto his bed with his forearm over his eyes and his phone clutched to his chest. He didn't have to check the time to know it had been a while since he texted you. He also didn't have to look at his phone to know it was after midnight now and that you and he had been chatting for almost two hours. Bradley jolted when the phone vibrated against his chest.

Pretty Girl: Okay. Alright. Penny is a sweetheart, and your story checks out. Also, she told me your call sign and then told me to have you verify what it is for my own peace of mind. So what is it, Bradley? And how do you know what the ladies' restroom here looks like?

Oh, he was going to owe Penny big time. He typed away as he lay sprawled out on his bed.

My call sign is Rooster. And as for your bathroom question.... are you really going to make me answer that?

Bradley closed his eyes and thought about the girl who had taken him into the bathroom with her last year. He was pretty sure she had brown hair, but other than that, he couldn't really recall. But he did remember looking at that paper towel holder on the wall and the framed photo of an F/A-14 that was hanging over it while he was in there with her. 

He wouldn't mind taking a trip there with you, that was for sure. Or maybe you and he could skip the scandalous bar hookup and just go right to dinner or a movie. For some reason, he thought he might actually prefer that.

Pretty Girl: Be back soon. I'm getting a ride home.

Bradley mused out loud, "It better not be from Alan." Shit, he could have offered to go pick you up and make sure you got home safely. He'd only had those two beers all night, and now he was picturing some faceless guy named Alan driving you home and pawing at you.

He texted you back.

Let me know when you get home, okay? And you can always just call me.

With a sigh, he got out of bed and plugged his phone in, not sure what to expect at this point. He went back into the bathroom and used his red toothbrush. And then he went back to the living room and closed all the windows. When he was in his room again, he had no new notifications as he climbed in bed. He was about to text you again and check in when his phone rang.

CALL FROM Pretty Girl

Bradley was smiling as he answered. "Hey, Pretty Girl."

A soft laugh preceded your voice, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek as you said, "Hi, Bradley with the O positive blood. Are you trying to tell me that you were in that bar bathroom with a girl?"

He found himself laughing. "Can I plead the fifth?"

When you moaned softly, he dropped his phone onto the pillow and had to scramble to get it. "Oh, my god. Even your voice is sexy."

Okay. He should not be on the verge of touching himself after you spoke three whole sentences to him. "You make it home safely?" he asked, trying to play it cool as he thought about those photos you sent him. 

"Mmhmm. A very nice man named Alan drove me home. He's right here next to me as I get changed for bed."

Bradley thought for a beat that he had met his match in you. "You better be lying. You know what, put Alan on the phone."

Your laughter filled him up as you said, "He's not really here. I had to ditch him, because he doesn't even have a mustache. Apparently that's a deal breaker for me now?"

Holy shit. Bradley was in trouble. He was getting turned on, and you weren't even really saying anything dirty. "You're killing me. You gonna tell me your name, Pretty Girl?"

"No. I think I'm going to hold onto it a little longer."

"Fine. But please explain to me how I've never seen you at the Hard Deck before. I'm certain I would remember your face."

Your voice sounded a little softer now as you said, "I just moved to Coronado. It was my first time at the bar."

If he hadn't worked so late today, Bradley would have probably been there tonight as well. "You had fun? You think you'll go back again?"

"Probably," you replied casually. "When do you think you'll be there?"

Bradley was so warm he was starting to sweat. "Pretty Girl, you just say the word, and I'll clear my whole damn calendar."

Your little sighs and soft giggles were going to be the death of him. "You know, I still have Alan's, or rather your phone number on my hand."

He imagined himself kissing your palm and rewriting his phone number. "Should be in my handwriting. I'll make sure I always bring a pen with me to the bar."

You cleared your throat softly, and Bradley imagined you climbing into bed. "Penny told me to watch out for some of the other guys. But she said you're okay."

"Just okay?"

"Actually, she called you a big, brown eyed puppy dog."

Bradley laughed. "I've been called worse."

"I'm sure you have," you replied quickly. "You deserve some sort of punishment for daring to look good with a mustache."

"It's a blessing and a curse. Now, are you going to send me another photo? Or are you going to just agree to meet me tomorrow night?"

He heard a rustling noise and then you softly said, "Alan is not going to like this one bit." And then another photo arrived, and this one had Bradley's mouth hanging open. 

"Now it's my turn to ask if you're naked in this picture." He was taking in every inch of your exposed skin and your bedding tucked up to your collar bones. You took your makeup off for bed, and you looked cozy and intimate. And you were talking to him. You were letting him see this. Bradley had to actively think about not touching himself. 

"Totally naked."

"Fuck."

"Send me another one?"

"Yeah," he grunted, swallowing hard as he tried to pose for another selfie just how he was, sprawled out on his pillow with his left arm bent and tucked back behind his head. But his cheeks looked flushed, and his eyes looked darker than usual. He was turned on. 

Fuck it. He snapped the photo and sent it. And about ten seconds later, he was greeted with the strangled sound you made.

"It should be illegal for someone with that mustache to look so good. It's rude, honestly. Bradley, you're kind of rude, because now I want to know...."

He was hanging on your every word. "Know what, Pretty Girl?"

The call went completely silent before you said softly and sweetly, "What your mustache feels like...everywhere."

A soft, startled laugh escaped his lips. You were on the verge of some dirty talk now, he could just tell. And his cock was hard as he replied with, "I'd love to let you find out. But before you respond, I need to know how much you've had to drink tonight. I don't want to take advantage of anything here."

You whimpered on the other end of the call. "A mustache, brown eyes, and a gentleman? All Alan did for me was buy me those two Long Island iced teas."

Bradley grunted and said, "That's enough about Alan. Why don't you go ahead and tell me where you'd like to feel my mustache first, Pretty Girl."

You squeaked and said, "I want to feel it rough along my skin right below my ear while you whisper to me. Oh my god, I can't believe I said that out loud. I should just go to bed."

"Don't hang up," Bradley said, panting with need now. "Tell me more."

"Okay," you sighed with another little squeak. "I want to feel it on my lips. While I'm sitting in your lap, licking the taste of that beer you drank from your mouth."

"Holy shit," he groaned, palming himself through his boxer briefs.

"I know," you whined with need. "And I want to feel it on the back of my neck while you do filthy things to me. And I don't even know you!"

"You will," he guaranteed. "Please, tell me what time I can meet you tomorrow."

Bradley listened to the rustle of your sheets as he waited. Then you finally said, "Seven o'clock? At the Hard Deck?"

"I'll be there, Pretty Girl. I can't wait to see you."

--------------------------

It was barely even 6:30, but you were already at the bar all made up and wearing a cute dress. Penny recognized you right away, which was kind of nice and kind of embarrassing. When she asked if you wanted another Long Island, you waved her off and said, "Nothing yet. I'm meeting someone."

Her eyes lit up as she asked, "Is it Rooster?"

You'd barely slept all night, preferring to look at the four selfies he'd sent you after you ended the call around two. There was a little more dirty talk, sure, but you and he also learned a bit more about each other. And now you were going to meet this naval aviator who was originally from Virginia but loved the Los Angeles Clippers face to face. 

"Yeah. It's Rooster."

Penny looked truly delighted. "You have nothing to worry about. He's very sweet."

"Tell that to the butterflies," you muttered as you placed one hand on your stomach for a beat, willing the nerves to dissipate as you walked away. You'd told Bradley you wanted his mustache on your body. In several places. And then he told you he thought you were so pretty and fun that he wanted to kiss you everywhere. And right now you were just mystified as to how this could have possibly happened only a week after you moved to this neighborhood. And you still didn't know what happened to Alan after you went to the ladies' bathroom and saved the wrong number in your phone.

You laughed when you thought about it, and then you ran your hands along the fabric of your dress. You were so antsy, your palms were sweaty. You looked down at yourself and just got more nervous. Bradley hadn't seen much of your body in the photos you'd sent to him. You'd seen plenty of his though, and he looked tall and muscular even next to his damn refrigerator. And his face was gorgeous, right down to that sinful looking mustache. 

And you were just... you. Alan was really more your speed with his nerdy glasses and messy hairstyle and his lack of ability to even grow any sort of facial hair at all. You just hoped that Bradley wouldn't take one look at you in person and walk right back out of the bar. 

You were about to tell Penny that you thought you needed a drink after all when the door caught your eye, and Bradley strolled into the bar like he owned the place. "Oh...fuck," you whispered, gaping at him as he ran his fingers through his hair. The photos hadn't even done him justice. He had to be over six feet tall, and he was so broad and muscular, he looked like he could pick you up and toss you around a little bit. "Shit." He was wearing some snug fitting jeans and a tropical print shirt like he just knew he could pull off the most ridiculous look. "Damn." He was glancing around, trying to find you while you started scouring the room unsuccessfully for another exit. 

You were trapped in here, and he was walking further into the bar now. And you didn't think you could hide halfway behind this couple who was making out for very much longer.  

As Bradley's eyes scanned the crowd again, he looked a little apprehensive. His brow was scrunched, and he checked the time on his watch. You knew it was almost seven. So you took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then you scooted one step to your left. When his gaze came your way again, his eyes landed on you. And then his face softened. The apprehension melted away, and he smiled a cute and somehow sexy little grin that made you whimper.

Now he was heading your way, his gait sure and steady. And then he was just a few feet away and you could see the scars on his face that you'd studied all night in the photos. And you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes that somehow the selfies didn't capture. And then he was talking, and his voice was even better in person.

"Pretty Girl."

Okay, so he'd seen you up close, and he wasn't running away. That had to be a good sign, right? You managed to say just one slightly breathless word. "Hi." And then his smile grew, and he was closing the space between your body and his. He was reaching for your face and running one rough thumb along your cheek. And then he kissed you.

And the soft scrape of his mustache was even better than all of the ways you'd spent your night imagining it might feel. You couldn't help but return his kiss, and somehow your hands ended up pressed to the front of him, sliding up to his chest. 

When he broke the kiss, he stayed close, his lips not far from your face. He covered your hands with his, keeping them on his body. And then he leaned close to your ear, his mustache scraping along your soft skin there as he whispered, "Tell me your name, Pretty Girl. I'm dying here."

Soft laughter bubbled out of you as he pulled away from you a bit, and those butterflies were going wild. His eyes were fixed on your face, begging for an answer this time as he stroked your hands with his thumbs. And then you told him, and he tried your name out on his tongue a few times with that grin that you liked so much. He kept saying it softly until you kissed him this time, and then he guided your arms around his neck. 

"Listen," he said in that raspy voice that you'd love to focus on all night. "I have no problem staying here for a while if you want to. I bet you could even persuade me to join you in the ladies' room."

"Sounds tempting," you told him with a smirk.

"It really does. But we could also just ditch the bar and grab dinner instead? Maybe watch the Clippers game and have a drink at my place? I'm a little worried Alan might show up here and try to lure you away, if I'm being honest."

You practically snorted with laughter. "I can't even really remember what Alan looks like. He was totally gone from my mind after the first selfie you sent me. Let's get out of here."

He took you by the hand. "Anything you want, Pretty Girl."

-------------------------

I love dreamy loverboy Bradley, and I love Pretty Girl too. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

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[pocketmania]

ENA X Male!Reader that IS basically a computer Vírus,I think It Will be like this relationship

Girl with her Eldritch boyfriend

[A/N] hello jp!! Thank you for requesting! Aaaand sorry for the wait‼️

Alsoooo dream BBQ is out!! I watched gameplay of it, and it was so super good! If you're able to play it, I recommend it! I'll link the game underneath this post just in case any of you decide to check it out for yourselves :]

Now onto the thingy

# ENA w/ a Virus!Reader

(🎭🌙👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨💭) - ENA headcanons

(reader type) - AMAB & masculine; a virus / eldritch monster within ENA's world

(‼️warnings) - body horror

(quick summary) - headcanons about ENA dating the Reader, who is a virus

♨ jesus christ how did you two end up together. more importantly why am I the one asking this question I'm the writer

♨ on a random trip to visit an in-universe mall, ENA spotted you from afar and went up to you, making conversation like she typically does

♨ from that point on, you both kept meeting up coincidentally on separate adventures. then you began to join ENA on her adventures. fast forward about 2 years of awkward small talk and lots of denying that you're in love, ENA confesses to you rather indirectly/vaguely

❝ I'm cweating a fwightwess dodo out of myself in fwont of the pewrson who scawes the voices away the most! ❞

❝ Hey, don't be like th—what did you say? ❞

♨ Okay, here's the thing

♨ Unfortunately, whatever you touch becomes all... glitchy and nonsensical. Moreso than whatever it already is

♨ ENA herself discovered this fact when she tried to hold your hand. You failed to warn her in time, and it glitched out. You had to go on a mini adventure to help her out

♨ After this incident, you found a nice workaround: three-dimensional gloves. You make the lack of being able to kiss or even hug from time to time work, however

♨ Your stature and overall demeanor are VERY intimidating and kind of scary. You're also... quite dangerous because of how unstable your code is

♨ That did not stop the Picasso Painting Lady. If anything, it motivated her

♨ In an attempt to get closer to you and become "an ideal and ultimate significant other" as she'd call it, she began to ask around for dating advice from people, some she really should not be taking advice from

♨ Like Moony

❝ Get them your favorite type of flowers to remind them of what kind of flowers you like. Flawless plan! ❞

❝ My, my! With these tips, I'll certainly be the apple of (Y/N)'s eye! ❞

♨ Despite your incredibly different backgrounds, you're very open with each other (which many people are surprised by)

♨ Going back to the bodily factor, your body is kinda fucked up

♨ Like I said, your code is unstable, which means that your form is unstable as well. It changes a lot, and you feel self-conscious about it, but mask it with your toughness and whatnot

♨ Once you told ENA, she was constantly reminding you that you looked stunning and helping you understand that you looked completely fine

♨ Similar to my last batches of ENA headcanons, you are, like, the only person who's nice to ENA

♨ You'll obviously have your moments, but you're nicer to her than anyone else so

♨ Dates are intended to be minimal and relaxing, but you always end up getting lost on your way home

♨ Basically monster × monster kisser

♨ You will not hesitate to corrupt anything that stands in her way

♨ Despite how different you two are, it doesn't matter. Your differences only bring the best out of one another, and in a world like this, different is all you know <3

Play Dream BBQ here!

[levispersonalslave]

Knight!Blade × Princess!Reader, Braiding his Hair, Slight use of Archaic English, Fluff, Royal Au, ib: @/ririshizu on c.ai, 1.3k wc

“Pardon?”

He blinks, taken aback by such an absurd request.

Your insistence does not relent. “Might I braid your hair, Sir Blade? It is longer than most, I would most enjoy toying with it.”

His eyes narrow as you repeat your words. You are the successor of the Xianzhou Loufu Alliance, born from quite the affluent and propertied background. He finds it rather distasteful that a lady of such status wishes to braid her knight’s hair. Yet, his devotion to the Code of Chivalry hinders him from refusing.

His expression does not change, as it has been trained not to, and he offers a slight nod.

“Very well, Your Royal Highness,” is all your knight says before you usher him to sit upon the puffy silk sheets of your lavish bed. The comfort of it is foreign to him, and he finds himself stuck with a feeling of chagrin. He sits stiffly, the polished metal of his armor clinking with every movement he makes.

You cautiously mount the bed behind him and take a lock of his hip-length hair between your fingers. It is dull-navy in color and silken in texture, like velvet beneath your touch. You have always longed to stroke it, often staring in the most conspicuous way whenever he is in sight—which, he often is.

He does not move nor react to your touch, but his expression is strained, his jaw clenched tight. This form of . . . benevolence is alien to him, courtesy of his desolate upbringing and ruthless training. A lady of your status and prestige should not be sitting so near him, dividing his hair into three thick tresses to braid. It would be more proper for you to be chattering with the other aristocrats over tea, or perhaps accepting the proposal of a suitor. And yet, you are not.

He cannot fathom how unpresuming you are. Should, God forbid, your father see him in such a position, surely the mildest punishment he would receive will  be hanging, or alternatively,  he will be thrown to the dungeons to have his flesh ravaged by the rats.

In the midst of his thoughts, your sweet voice shakes him out of them.

“There you are. It looks lovely, does it not?” you smile giddily, pleased with your handiwork.

His gaze wordlessly shifts to the vanity mirror near him, where he sees that his hair has been styled into a voluminous braid that rests against his shoulder. It’s  tied with red silk ribbon. He thinks it to be girlish, but, in a way, it suits him.

A low, musing hum slips past his lips as he stares at his reflection. He does not understand your delight. It’s mere hair, what could be so special about . . . hair? It’s ridiculous, he thinks. Ridiculous, yet oddly endearing.

Your gaze drifts around the opulent bedroom before it settles on a lonesome rose displayed near your bed. He watches intently as you reach over to gently take it from its glass case and face him.

“Turn your head to me, Sir Blade,” you instruct, and he obliges. He has an idea of what you’re scheming with that rose.

His speculations prove true. You carefully tuck the stem behind his ear and lean back to admire your work. He looks more like a lovely damsel than a knight now, and, despite the crease of his brow, a faint pink dusts his cheeks.

He mutters, “You spend far too much time on frivolous things, Your Royal Highness.”

You smile gleefully, lacing your fingers in front of your chest. “Perhaps so, though there is little more one could do as a princess.”

“Is that so?” he hums. “Well, I suppose it is not terrible . . .”

“. . . You look rather handsome like this, Blade.”

His eyes flick to your hand as you touch the delicate braid in his hair. He does not fail to notice the lack of his title from your lips. You say his name in an informal manner, as though the two of you are mere commoners sharing a moment of serenity.

“Handsome?” he repeats in an almost sneering tone. Though, beneath it lies a tinge of flattery. “I am a trained knight, Your Royal Highness, not a fair maiden.”

You seem to be quite pleased with yourself as you reply, “Well, you certainly resemble a fair maiden with your hair. It truly is quite beautiful.”

“I resemble no such thing,” he says irritably. He pauses to regard your face before he speaks once more. “You are enjoying this far too much, My Lady.”

“Perhaps I am,” you respond sweetly. He opens his mouth to protest, but the words die on his lips as he sees just how delighted you are.

A weary mutter escapes him. “ ‘Suppose I am your doll now.”

You only nod keenly, still admiring the braid. “You look charming, Blade.”

“I look like a pampered fool,” he deadpans. 

Despite his words, his heart flutters with pride at your praise. He continues to feign indifference, however, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Would you leave the braid in for the day?” you ask feebly. His expression softens at your tone. How could he deny you such a blameless request? A resigned sigh slips past his lips, and he accepts that he is powerless against your charm.

“Very well, then,” he says. “I shall keep the blasted braid should it please you so.”

“Oh, thank you, Blade!”

“. . . It is my pleasure, Your Royal Highness.”

You sit near him, your gown brushing against his armor, and lift your head to meet his gaze.

“I would like to thank you,” you begin, “for providing me companionship. I am often lonesome in the castle . . .” You pause momentarily, then continue with a smile. “Though now I have the pleasure of your company.”

He is taken aback by your sudden vulnerability. His hand hovers awkwardly for a moment before it slowly moves to lightly pat your leg.

“It is my duty, Princess.” He falls silent briefly, his eyes flickering until he adds, “and . . . I suppose you are not completely insufferable.”

You are unfazed by his blunt attempt at comfort, gladdened nonetheless. You rest your head against his tense shoulder and shut your eyes. Silence falls upon the pair of you for a while. He is the first to break it.

“Do not take this as a regular occurrence, My Lady.”

You titter. “I certainly will. Would you care for tea with me?”

“Tea?” He looks at you, maintaining his aloof demeanor. “Very well, if it keeps you silent for an hour or so.”

“Mustn’t you learn a form of manners here and there?” You feign a derisive and contemptuous tone, though it quickly falters into another titter. You rise from the bed and dust your gown off, and he is swift to stand behind you, as he often does. Though, this time, his armored hand brushes against the small of your back.

“You are not quite fit for the contemptuous role,” he mutters with a tinge of teasing.

As the pair of you leave the bedroom, he tries to keep his gaze on the lavish interior of the castle, and yet every time, he finds that his eyes always stray to your face. He cannot stop it, as much as he’d like to. He follows by your side, his steps falling in sync with yours. His mind is swirling with conflicting thoughts.

What has gotten into him? He silently curses himself, for he knows well that his behavior shall risk both his position and his life. Yet, he cannot help himself. How could he, when you are so, so beautiful, and allow him to commit the act of simply touching you? Your father shall have his head on a platter should he see the two of you like this, with your knight’s hair braided and adorned in the most girlish manner.

He pushes away the thought, instead focusing on you. And his duties, of course. Though, mostly you.

⊱ 𝑇𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⊰ @the-traveling-poet , @pinkberryfox , 𝑑𝑚 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑑 ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭

[midnight-els]

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the West Wing would have been even better if they'd had a White House cat. Some headcanons bc I was thinking about it today:

Jed gave the cat a very grand, biblical name. Everyone else has shortened it to something very stupid.

Obviously all of the press and the public adore the cat. There's a minor upset in a polling themed episode when Joey confirms that once again the cat has higher approval ratings than the president. Josh is cross that they are polling on this at all.

There is one chair in the Oval Office that is The Cat's Chair. The staff know not to sit there as you'll get a. covered in fur and b. screamed at by an irate cat trying to force you off. They never warn any of their least favourite congresspeople about this.

The cat wanders around in the background of episodes, often being chased or petted by the extras.

The cat is not allowed in the situation room. The cat is always in the situation room. They had to come up with a special bug detecting protocol for the cat in case anyone tried to take advantage of this.

Ripped from the headlines plot about a congressional investigation into something related to the cat, based on the incident about Clinton's cat's postage.

The cat LOVES Air Force One. The Secret Service do not love having to get him on board or captured to get back off.

Leo and the cat are best friends. They're basically this meme. Leo's the grandma. Jed is the mom.

Aside from Leo, the cat loves the secretaries best. They always have lots of treats for him in their desks. Debbie is the only one he doesn't get on with; she has resorted to using a plant mister to spray him when he tries to get on her desk.

Josh thinks he and the cat are archenemies. The cat hasn't paid more than 2 seconds notice to Josh in his life.

CJ and the cat are archenemies. CJ was very pro-cat until she caught it fishing in Gail's bowl one day. Now she's at war to keep it out of her office. She's still trying to convince Danny to write a piece exposing the cat's dark side to its adoring public. Carol is very tired.

Sam wants so badly to be best friends with the cat. The cat thinks he's trying too hard. Will ends up exactly the same way.

Toby and the cat have never properly interacted and both are very happy to leave it that way.

The cat is supposed to stay in the residence during big events. Abbey stopped enforcing that after he got out and scratched Lord John Marbury when he picked him up against his will.

The cat has a secret service code name. One time, the code names are changed and an overenthusiatic reporter tries to break a story on the first lady's 'unusual activity' by following what he thinks is her code name. It's the cat's. CJ dines out on this for weeks.

The cat occasionally goes missing. The secretaries and Charlie have a recurring B-plot where they have to go and recover him. Somehow, the cat has always ended up somewhere relevant to the A-plot.

The cat properly goes missing after the incidents with the Thanksgiving turkeys and the goat in CJ's office (aka prime cat territory). Each time she claims she'll be nicer to the cat when it returns. Each time it lasts about two days.

Margaret thinks the cat has psychic powers and frequently provides warnings based on her interpretations of 'the signs'. Usually she's right.

The cat somehow makes off with the final edits for the state of the union one time (of course they were only handwritten on one piece of paper). Chaos ensues.

Jed tries to send the cat to Manchester partway through the series. After large-scale outcry from the staff, press and public he is returned to the White House. Unfortunately, after a couple of months as a barn cat he is even more badly behaved than before.

The cat is in both Jed and Abbey's official portraits.

[tatertato]

hoping this reaches the right target audience lol- i was watching the return of the king (extended edition ofc) yesterday and was consumed by the violent urge to make scene redraws of a life series lord of the rings au!

it started when i realized how pippin coded jimmy solidarity is, and snowballed into joel as merry, grian as frodo, and mumbo as sam.

also etho is aragorn and cleo is the king (queen) of the dead

i made lizzie eowyn for the "my lady" line and the "my lady" line only and im not sorry lmao

bonus characters not pictured here:

scar as gandalf (he would be so incompetent it would be so funny)

scott as legolas (he's an elf, what else do i have to say)

martyn as gimli (mean gills mean gills mean gills - also martyn and gimli are both very funny)

pearl as galadriel (in place of a dark lord you would have a queen! not dark but beautiful and terrible as the dawn! treacherous as the sea! stronger than the foundations of the earth! all shall love me and despair!)

bdubs as theoden (horse lord, i mean, come on)

skizz and impulse as boromir and faramir (they're brothers your honorrrr)

ren as treebeard (i have literally no explanation for this. just. treebeard. ren is treebeard. that's it.)

i feel like gem should share eowyn with lizzie bc a) shes an ethogirl and b) i need "i am no man" from geminislay

feel free to draw any of these as i will not be. as fun as these were for color theory studies + forcing me to kind of make backgrounds, i am finished lol

bonus bonus: (fwhip can be eomer as a treat)

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Megathread: All Clues concerning “Elrond = Sauron” in “Adar meeting/Kiss scene” (2x07) - Part I

Fellow fans and I have discussed this theory several times, and in many posts, but I think it’s time to create the ultimate megathread, with all the clues, about it. 

And brace yourselves: this is a long read. The amount of evidence is mindblowing and so extensive I had to make two posts about it: Part II.

I) Visual clues:

1) The Touch ™

Let’s start with the obvious one:

This might parallel Sauron’s proposal to Galadriel in 1x08 (and even Galadriel’s reaction is somewhat similar in both scenes):

In 2x08, there’s also a callback to his previous offer (in Season 1 finale): I would have placed a crown upon your head. I would never have rested until all Middle-earth had been brought to its knees, to worship the light of its Queen.

In 2x07, there is an actual callback to Sauron’s offer in 1x08; when Galadriel reveals to Celebrimbor that she did wanted to accept Sauron’s offer (to be his queen):

2) Elrond's Inexplicable Glow Up

When Elrond arrives at Eregion, leading the Elven army, his face is soiled with dirt and mud. However, in the tent with Adar, he’s all cleaned up, with a fresh face, and pristine clean and polished armour and cloak, and flowing hair.

You have the beauty of your foremother, Melian of the Valar. If even a fragment of her wisdom is in your veins, you must know you cannot defeat me in battle. Adar can't see a pretty boy without gushing over him, 2x07

Why is this mention of Melian odd in this context? Melian was the Maia who fell in love with an Elf, Thingol, and birthed Lúthien, the Half-Maia, Half-Elf lady who married Beren, a human (and these two are Elrond’s ancestors). Maiar falling in love with Elves? Does this ring any bells?

Adar compares Elrond’s looks to one of the Maiar, angelic beauty (that Elrond, in spite of having Half-Half-Half-Maia blood, cannot truly have, no matter how attractive he is). And this isn't the first time in Season 2, that Adar talks about Maiar beauty, either:

And after what seemed endless thirst and hunger... I saw it. His servant's face. Sauron's face. And it was beautiful. Adar talks to Halbrand/Sauron, 2x01

There is also a lot of fire (red) on this scene; especially over Elrond himself: the ones who read my post about Sauron's color code in "Rings of Power" already know that red is the color used to signal Sauron's deceptions.

3) The Mystery of the Two Pins 

Hercule Poirot has entered the chat because the pin Elrond usually wears isn’t (1) the same as the one he has on in the scene with Adar, nor (2) the one he gives Galadriel: these are two different pins.  

Elrond’s pin is square-shaped and fits the circle; and the metal is mate. The one he used on the tent scene with Adar is diamond-shape and shiny (like Galadriel’s), and it’s placed on top of the circle (and not inside). 

3) Passing plot-device objects in an intimate manner is kind of their thing

4) The Two Saurons in Prince Durin’s speech

This is actually my favorite clue, and it’s used in mystery/thriller genre.

When Prince Durin is giving a speech to the Dwarves of Khazad-dûm to get them to fight for Eregion alongside the Elves, he mentions Sauron on two occasions. And what’s the footage on screen?

Sauron with Celebrimbor at Eregion (predictable):

But then, we have this: Elrond leaving the Orc camp after his meeting with Adar. Odd...

After we see him leave Orc camp, Elrond's next scene in 2x07 is him in full battle. Which might indicate that the battle didn't stop for Adar's meeting with Elrond... for some reason. 

4) Bear McCreary (OST)

“Elrond’s theme” is not present in the “Kiss OST”, which is strange, because when two characters kiss, usually their themes are mixed together. Yet, in 2x07, we only hear “Galadriel’s theme”.  

"Battle for Eregion": 4:27 - 5:20 (Kiss OST)

"Last Temptation": 6:27 - 6:55 (Rendition of Kiss OST with Sauron's theme on the background | this bit was edited and cut from 2x08, for some reason)

II) Autopsy of a Scene 

In this scene, we, the audience, see Elrond acting completely out of character. “Rings of Power” has established him as diplomatic character, a politician, and even Adar himself tells us this: "You are a courtier. More suited to wielding a scroll than a sword."

We do see (the real) Elrond growing into his “warrior” role in this episode, however, we still witness a certain vulnerability and unsureness to him during his scenes at the Battle of Eregion, because he’s starting his warrior arc, and we see him suffering with the loss of his kin, and his anguish and heartbreak over Durin not coming to help.  

We don’t see this in this scene, at all. It’s a completely different vibe. Here, his body language and attitude it’s like he owns the room. Even when Adar is a bit uncertain, "Elrond” is commanding and bold. Sure, he knows that Durin will come to help, but Adar’s legions are still massive (and the Dwarves only manage to control the situation in 2x08 because the Orc army is shattered and their leader is having a religious experience at the top of the hill).

Let's dig in:

"Your kin"!?

"Not before you have painted the sands of the Glanduin black with the blood of your kin."

Nevermind the threat, Elrond calls the Orcs Adar’s “kin”. Why is this odd? Perhaps we should recall Galadriel’s chat with Adar back in Season 1, to understand how the Elves truly see the Orcs:  

Adar: My children have no master. Galadriel: They are not children, they are slaves. Adar: But each one has a name. A heart. A heart. Galadriel: A heart created by Morgoth. Adar: We are creations of The One, Master of the Secret Fire, the same as you. As worthy of the breath of life, and just as worthy of a home. Soon... This land will be ours. Then, you will understand. Galadriel: No. Your kind was a mistake. Made in mockery. Adar reveals to Galadriel that he killed Sauron, 1x06

Galadriel calls the Orcs "slaves" and "your kind" because their existence is a mockery to the Elves themselves. Morgoth breed them as a corruption to Eru (Ilúvatar)’s creation (the Elves are called the “Children of Ilúvatar”). Meaning: no Elf alive would ever acknowledge the Orcs as “children” out of nowhere (let alone Elrond who’s meeting Adar for the first time, but apparently can read him so well like he has known him for ages).

The previous scene to Elrond’s arrival at Eregion, there's a lot of weight on Sauron’s blood being black, too: If you do not believe me, cut him open. Look at his hand, look at his blood. Black as pitch" as Celebrimbor describes it. We also see Sauron perform an illusion for his blood to appear red.  

Adar: My children have endured cruelties your bravest couldn't bear to hear spoken aloud. Elrond: "Are you prepared to spend their lives so freely, Adar? Are they?"

Why does Elrond keeps acknowledging the Orcs as "Adar's “children" or “kin”? He’s the enemy, and there is no agreement or diplomacy happening in this scene, because Elrond has been antagonizing Adar even since he set foot on that tent. There is no reason for Elrond to talk like this... unless he’s not Elrond, at all.

Because, in 2x01, we saw another character speaking in such a way: 

There is one. Since Galadriel's defeat, she sought out a new ally. An ancient sorcerer, to instruct the Elves in forging a new weapon. One you first told her about. A power over flesh. Do you remember those words? A power that will allow him to use your children as slaves in his army once more. Sauron/Halbrand "plants the seeds" of the Battle of Eregion in Adar's mind, 2x01

And this is the moment when Adar realizes that Halbrand is, in fact, Sauron, and later has Galadriel confirm his suspicion. It’s the mention of “his children” (Orcs) that triggers the recognition between them. Maybe, because: "Do you want to know what he [Sauron] offered me? [...] Children." He tells Galadriel, in 2x06.

The “idea” of the Orcs came from Morgoth, and Sauron was the one who used Dark magic to see it through. And, perhaps, that "magical imprint" creates a recognition between them, because, like Charlie Vickers said, Adar and Sauron share a deep and mystical connection.

Why is all of this relevant? Because after “Elrond” calls him “Adar” (“Father of the Orcs”), there is a switch on Adar’s whole demeanor, and we can even see him looking deeper into Elrond’s eyes, as if he was suspecting him not to be actually be Elrond. And we can see this in Adar’s body language:

Vorohil: The enemy outnumber us ten to one. So why the confidence? Elrond: Because I know something the Father of the Orcs does not. Vorohil: And what is that? Elrond: Even now Prince Durin is rallying a legion of Dwarves to our aid. And at the first rays of sunlight... you will guide them straight into Adar's flank [...] Ride to them now. Meantime, I will ensure that Eregion's walls hold for one more night.

Elrond continues to call Adar the “father of the Orcs” after he leaves the tent for some reason (force of habit?).

But it has to be noticed that Vorohil himself is puzzled by Elrond’s confidence and boldness. And why is Elrond sending him away, exactly? It’s not like Durin and the Dwarves need an escort to get to Eregion, we know they have been there before, in 2x03. Or is he sending him away for him not to tell anyone about this meeting with Adar? 

It's also worth mentioning that another character is also "ensuring that Eregion's walls hold for one more night":

Sauron: Lord Celebrimbor refuses to permit a counter-attack. He says the river will protect us [...] And that is why we're not going to obey him. Gather your finest troops. I am taking command of our defenses.

And how would Sauron know that the Dwarves are coming to help Eregion? Because King Durin III has one of the Seven rings of power, connected to Sauron himself. Which means that Sauron has a direct streaming service into Khazad-dûm, and is aware of everything that happens there. More; King Durin (by the power of his ring) doesn’t allow the Dwarves to help Eregion. Which means, the Elven army will be defeated (just like Sauron wants).

Planting the seeds of discord 

The diplomacy isn’t in the room with us, because we, the audience, don’t see Elrond trying to reason or deal with Adar in any way, shape of form. Instead, Elrond taunts him with doing Sauron’s biding and sacrificing the Orcs’ lives, while going full warmongering on Adar. 

Adar: Sauron is my enemy as much as yours. Give me what I need to defeat him and let us all be rid of him. Elrond: Is it not you that has done his bidding by laying siege to Eregion? Adar: Eregion has fallen into shadow. It belongs to the Deceiver now, as does every Elf within its walls.

What an odd thing for Elrond to say... How does he knows that Adar is doing “Sauron’s biding”? Has he earned his “gift of foresight” already? Without his ring of power? 

Elrond: Are you prepared to spend their [Orcs] lives so freely, Adar? Are they? Adar: The Ring for Galadriel's life. What is it to be? Elrond: Ask me on the field, when the neck with a blade against it is yours.

In this scene, "Elrond” is taking advantage of the Orcs’ dissatisfaction with Adar to create even more conflict between the “father” and his “children”. And the camera lingers on Glûg after “Elrond” says this: who was the first to betray Adar for Sauron, and stroke the first blow to kill him, in 2x08?  

Why is Elrond using tactics from Sauron’s playbook of manipulation and deception in this scene, exactly? Because, here, he’s “planting the seeds” of everything Sauron wants: the Battle of Eregion proceeding (as planned), the Orcs betraying Adar, and giving Galadriel a means to escape (which appears to be the only reason why Elrond is there, in the first place).

Houdini Elrond 

Elrond removes the pin in front of the Orcs and not one sees or says a thing about it. Glûg might have seen it (as I’ve read some fans saying), but Galadriel breaking free wasn’t going to stop the battle, so there was no point in him allowing it; and Galadriel killed several Orcs during her escape, so it kinds of contradicts the theory that Glûg  “let it slide” because he was upset with Adar. 

However, the Orcs being blind it’s one thing, but Elrond boldly faces Adar without his pin. Are you telling me that this corrupted Elf, with thousands of years old (older than Galadriel herself), doesn’t notice that Elrond’s pin is missing and that he took it off? 

What kind of sorcery is this!? Is almost like... magic.

"Forgive me"??

Why is Elrond asking for Galadriel’s forgiveness in this scene, exactly? It can’t be because he’s allowing her to stay as Adar’s prisoner, because he’s giving her a means to escape. And he looks very emotional for it to just be a trick to fool Adar. 

Also, Elrond being there in the first place is a contradiction to the promise he made Galadriel, in 2x04: 

Galadriel: Promise me, Elrond, you will put opposing Sauron above all other considerations. Even my life.   Elrond: I will make no promise whose asking is borne of that Ring. But I swear to you... defeating Sauron will come first. Even before you.

Is he apologizing because he broke his promise? Or because he’s about to kiss her (as I’ve read some saying)? All of these justifications seem kind of weak.

There’s another character who has a lot to apologize for, and who already had a similar to parallel this one, back in 1x05:

[shrimpbat]

A happy little computer family [click "keep reading" for backstory stuff!]

Surprise! a Websurferz post, finally. I wrote some background for these three since I'm into writing familial relationships recently.

So yes! Even the websurfers have lore to them, ha. They don't seem like the types of characters to have too much lore to them, and they don't have as much as say the NBAF or IU characters. But they still have a background, this is one of my main stories after all.

So! Starting with Microchip and Vista, the two internet meme wives.

Vista was created way earlier than Microchip, following the popularity of the "Epic Face/Epic Smiley" meme in 2003. Similarly to Derpina's creation, she was created as a female version of the epic face. She was alone for a long time, but she made friends with the default computer assistants at least!

Though Vista had existed since the early days of 2000s internet and had her assistant friends, she was still lonely and bored. But even during those quiet years, she stuck around in the corners of old forums and obscure fan-made animations.

Then, in 2008, everything changed when Microchip was finally uploaded.

Microchip, being more wired-in to the chaotic humor of Rage Comics, burst onto the scene with wide eyes, sharp sarcasm, and the unmistakable chaotic energy of mid-2000s meme culture. She was derived from "Derpina", sure, but she had developed her own personality; clever, playful, and quick-witted, often using old error messages and Comic Sans on purpose just to get a rise out of people as a way of being cocky.

Vista was in LOVE. She had never thought there'd be another meme-created extension. She was shy around the new extension at first, but Microchip loved Vista's sweet nature so much she pulled her into a hug as soon as they met. The two talked a lot, bonding closely from being meme-derived ladies...and then of course, they started to fall in love with each other due to their relateable personalities to each other and mutual playful nature.

Of course, the web kept evolving, and with it came new computer extensions. Characters born not purely from memes or comic panels, but from the blurred line between software tools. One such creation was P1X3L, a digital assistant who emerged sometime in 2009.

P1X3L wasn’t exactly planned like the meme wives were, she kinda came out of nowhere after Clippy's failure. She started off as a side project, one of those quirky customizable desktop companions coded by enthusiasts who wanted something cuter and sassier than someone poorly regarded like Clippy, but not as invasive as BonziBuddy. She had sleek, blocky animations and spoke in emoji-heavy syntax, and had a sillier, wittier personality. Microchip and Vista loved her as soon as they saw her.

Microchip took to P1X3L immediately. She loved her spark, her refusal to act like a perfect assistant, and her trolling sense of humor. They began calling her their "little byte" and dragged her into their chaotic computer family.

[honeylations]

KIM CHAEWON x FEM!READER

Prompt: All your members in Aespa (excluding yourself) are extremely close with Le Sserafim so Minjeong thought it was a great idea to invite the girls over to the dorm without letting you know. It only took Chaewon one look at you before unholy thoughts started to cloud her mind.

Warnings/Notes: g!p reader, 5th member Aespa, reader is tall, reader was born in 2003, eventual smut, unprotected sex, reader is a gamer, tomboyish reader(?)

Minjeong, Jimin, and Aeri were heard giggling at the front door with a couple more unfamiliar voices, hearing one of the Aespa members punch the dorm code in before letting their 5 guests in.

As they entered, they found Yizhuo placing the final plate in the dishwasher before she wiped her hands on her apron.

“Hi Ning!” Yunjin greeted excitedly.

“Oh hey girls! Welcome to our home”

Then all eyes found you sitting at the kitchen island eating a plate of fried chicken with rice, all while only wearing basketball shorts and your black bra. You stopped mid chewing to make awkward eye contact with your guests and your members shaking their head at you.

“Uh…hi” you smiled with full cheeks that Le Sserafim giggled at.

Chaewon blinked comically, being a little stunned at your boyish charms which was a huge contrast to how you were seen in the Aespa music videos. From pastel pink mini skirts to Lakers basketball shorts, Chaewon couldn’t think of anything else other than ‘holy shit Y/n is hot. Take me take me take me’.

Her thoughts were broken from Jimin’s heavy sigh. “Oh my god Y/n, go put a shirt on. We have guests”

“I wasn’t told about any guests!” You said in defence.

“Well now we have guests. Go upstairs and wear a damn shirt please”

You frowned, which Chaewon found absolutely adorable, before you eyed the 3 pieces of fried chicken left on your plate. “I’m not done eating”

“Go wear a shirt. Then come back down to finish your food.” The Aespa leader said in a tone. “And also, why are you at the island? We have a dining table for a reason!”

“I wanted to stay close to Yizhou Unnie!”

Yizhuo giggled and kissed your temple. Chaewon felt her heart go heavy, wishing that she was in the Chinese member’s place to be kissing you so freely. She knew it was just a big sister thing for Yizhuo to do but it doesn’t stop Chaewon from praying to the Gods.

“Our maknae is so cute”

“I’m not cute” you quickly announced as you stood up and stretched, letting everyone see your rock hard abs.

“Quit being a show off” Aeri scoffed, making you wiggle your brows and wink at Chaewon.

“Don’t get too excited ladies”

“Oh my god, just go!” Aeri laughed hard as you ran upstairs for a few minutes and returned in a matching Lakers basketball jersey.

“You go for Lakers too, Y/n-ssi?” Chaewon asked, feeling victorious that she managed to say something after checking you out since her arrival.

“Hell yeah, I’m a huge fan!”

“Like a really huge fan. You should see her room” Jimin smirked at you. “Feel free to check it out”

Your eyes went wide, knowing that your room was an absolute pig sty littered with empty Monster cans from your late night gaming, dirty laundry, and worst of all, the Chaewon photocards stuck at the bottom of your monitors.

And also your Chaewon desktop background.

Your older members knew about your adorable obsession with the Le Sserafim leader so bringing the girls in was definitely a way for them to tease you.

“Can we not offer my room like that please?” You grumbled, earning a giggle from everyone.

Ignoring the tease, you looked at Chaewon who was still staring at you like a gem. “Have you been to any Lakers game Y/n-ssi?”

“No I haven’t unfortunately. And please call me Y/n, Chaewon Unnie. Pretty faces like yours get a that pass” you winked.

Minjeong gagged and slapped the back of your head. “No flirting with the guest!”

“I WAS COMPLIMENTING HER!”

“Anyways, we’re gonna stay down here and watch a couple of movies if you want to join” Minjeong added, showing the bags of snacks and drinks she bought before coming home.

You waved your hand politely. “No thanks Unnie. I recently got a new game and want to play it!”

“Oh you game?” Sakura asked excitedly, finally finding someone who shared the same hobby.

“Absolutely! You can call me obsessed”

Chaewon pouted that your attention went to the eldest member and she couldn’t think of another sentence to bring up with you so she sighed in defeat.

“What game did you get?”

“I got the recent Call of Duty game. Have you played it yet?”

Sakura jumped on the spot like a cute puppy. “Not yet! Please let me know if you like it or not!”

“Will do. I’ll head upstairs now. Enjoy your movies!” You waved as you walked but Yizhou stopped you.

“Hey, your food!”

“Oh yeah, I’m not hungry anymore. I’ll just put it in the fridge and eat it later”

Yizhuo stopped you again. “No bub, it’s okay I’ll do it for you. Just text me if you need any snacks and I’ll send it up”

“You’re the best. I love you Unnie” you smiled and disappeared upstairs.

“You’re more like Y/n’s girlfriend than older sister, Ning” Yunjin winked, sending Yizhuo into a gagging fest.

“Don’t say that about my maknae please. She’s an only child and I swore to her parents I’d take care of her. DONT MAKE IT WEIRD!”

“I’m just teasing~ Our Chaewonie here kinda has a crush on your maknae”

The Aespa girls’ eyes went wide, looking at Chaewon in shock. “REALLY?!”

“YAH HUH YUNJIN YOU JERK!!” Chaewon whined and started punching at the taller girl’s arm.

“Is that true!?” Jimin questioned and Chaewon shyly nodded.

“Ahhh so cute!” Aeri clapped her hands. “We can totally help you”

“NO THANKS! Let’s watch the movie now” Chaewon almost screamed and walked past the girls.

Not until Minjeong spoke up. “Uh Chaewon, the living room is this way”

Chaewon came scurrying back. More embarrassed than before. “I knew that”

3 hours later, the two groups had already gone through two movies. Chaewon’s hand felt gross after going crazy on the Doritos so she stood up, confusing the other girls. “Sorry, need to wash my hands”

Jimin nodded. “Bathroom is upstairs at the end of the hall”

Chaewon thanked her briefly and ran upstairs but by the time she reached the top, she had forgotten Jimin’s directions.

‘You can memorise choreo but can’t memorise the way to a bathroom?’ Chaewon scolded herself mentally.

She looked between a bunch of doors and played eenie meenie miny moe before turning the knob on the door to her right. It was definitely not the bathroom.

Instead it was a huge bedroom that was only lit by the pretty gaming setup in the corner, flashing a pretty purple from its monitors.

Thankfully Chaewon doesn’t know that you spent all that time cleaning your room while they watch their movie.

Feeling intrigued, she welcomed herself further into the room to take a closer look at the computers and was shocked to see photocards of herself taped to it. The computer was left open so she saw the Chaewon wallpaper aswell.

“Wha—“

“What are you doing here?” A deep voice spoke from behind, making Chaewon jump back.

“O-Oh Y-Y/n hi!” She smiled awkwardly.

“Did my Unnies send you to tell me something or are you snooping around?”

“I didn’t mean to come in here I swear! I was looking for the bathroom” Chaewon reasoned, both scared and turned on at your serious expression.

Like she was on a dangerous territory.

“I didn’t want you to see this. You’re probably creeped out now right? I’ll take them down—“ You reached for the photocards but Chaewon was quick to grab your wrist, surprising herself.

“No dont! I-I mean…I like it…”

“Really?”

“It’s cute. Didn’t know I was your bias…” She blushed and looked down at her feet but you held her chin and forced her eyes back up.

“Don’t shy away from me, pretty girl. I have an extra bathroom in here. Just walk through the door next to my bed”

Chaewon gulped at the touch and nodded. She dragged her short self to your personal bathroom and washed her hands before coming back out to see you fixing your basketball wallpapers.

“You must really love basketball”

You turned around and smiled, finding Chaewon pretty under the dim purple light. “I do. My dad got me into it when I was young. If I wasn’t an idol, I’d definitely pursue basketball as a career”

“You’d suit it”

You slowly approached the shorter idol. “Is that so?”

Chaewon started to back away but you kept moving forward until her back met the wall. “Y-Yeah. You should totally teach me how to play s-sometime”

You trapped her between your body and leaned your hand on the wall, tilting your head mockingly which got Chaewon’s head spinning. “Mhm. We can play other things Unnie…that’s if, you know, you’re up for it?”

The older girl stared into your eyes, quickly flickering her gaze to your lips. All it took was your charming smirk for Chaewon to give in, grabbing you by your jersey and cursing under her breath.

“Fuck, I can’t do this anymore” She muttered and pulled you down to taste your lips.

You held her waist with your free arm and tilted your head to kiss her deeper, even boldly pushing your tongue inside her needy mouth.

“Fuck. Wait” The shorter pulled away, feeling herself fall harder at your lustful stare.

The hand on her waist moved up to her face, gently caressing it like she was treasure. The soft touch got Chaewon fluttering her eyes closed. “The door, Y/n”

You glanced at the opened door and then looking back at Chaewon. “What, you don’t want the girls hearing how good I’m gonna fuck you?”

Oh that sounded so hot. But Chaewon remembered Eunchae was also here. She can’t have the baby hearing her leader get dicked down.

“Hm maybe another time then” She heard you chuckle, pushing off the wall to lock your door and going back to her.

You swiftly pulled the jersey over your head, letting Chaewon see the glorious abs again and the silver chain resting at your collarbones. Finding some confidence, the Le Sserafim member ran her palm across the hard muscles, softly biting her lip and looking up at you.

“You make me feel crazy, Pretty girl. Want to ruin you so bad”

It’s insane how soaked Chaewon was now, practically feeling her panties and shorts stick to her throbbing cunt. “Yes please ruin me, baby. Only want you”

You hummed as you unbuttoned her cropped shirt, slowly revealing the lace bra underneath, immediately pulling the top off her body and admiring the plump clothed breasts.

“So good for me. So perfect”

Chaewon muffled her whines when you massaged her tits, going in for another messy kiss and laying her on your soft king sized bed.

“Need this off” She mumbled against your lips while she removed the rest of her clothes, finally laying naked underneath you.

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more perfect” You whispered, eyeing her drenched pussy.

You kneeled before the bed and pulled Chaewon in by her legs so her cunt was finally positioned in front of your face. “Been imagining this for too long. I’m gonna eat you out so good, Princess. Need you to stay quiet for me, okay?”

“Yes ma’am”

Yeah Chaewon was lying. How could she stay quiet the moment you gave a long lick up her slit? You groaned at her sweet taste and going in for more, licking her up like you’ve been starved.

She found comfort in holding your head, wanting you impossibly closer. You held her down while you sucked at her puffy clit, immediately sending Chaewon over the edge as she came on your face.

Her liquids dropped down your chin but your tongue never stopped. Chaewon started to tear up from the overstimulation yet she couldn’t escape from your strong hold on her small frame.

Your index and middle finger prodded inside her entrance unannounced, already going in and out at a fast pace. Chaewon bit on the back of her hand as she felt the second orgasm crashing through.

She wriggled beneath you, pulling your mouth away as you felt her starting to tighten around your fingers. That’s when the unexpected happen.

The older girl’s legs shook as she was squirting all over you, whimpering your name behind her palm as you slowed down.

“Holy fuck, Chae”

“I-I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to mess your bed” she cried full tears.

You crawled up and shushed her whimpers, letting her taste herself and Chaewon felt proud she tasted this good. Resting your forehead against her’s, you caressed her soft cheeks and smiled. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Can you not flirt in the middle of this please?” She hissed and slapped your arm.

“Sorry. You turn me on so much, fuck”

Chaewon leaned up on her elbows as you took a step back to remove your shorts and boxers, finally revealing the monster you packed underneath. The older’s eyes widened as you stroked yourself.

“So fucking hard for you, pretty face” you panted.

She crawled over to you and replaced your hands with her smaller one’s, turning you on even more. Everything about her was so small, it drove you mad.

“That feel so good, baby but we can’t take too long” you reminded her as disappointed as you were.

“Aw but I wanna stay here with you. Let you fuck me good until sun rise”

You stopped her hand on your cock and laid her down again to hover on top. “I know but it’ll have to be another day, Princess. Our members will kill us”

The older girl saw you reach for a condom in your drawer but she placed a hand on your shoulder. You halted your movements and looked at Chaewon with confusion. “What’s wrong, Princess?”

It was too late for her to feel embarrassed about what she was gonna say. “W-We won’t need that”

“You take pills?” You asked genuinely, chucking the unopened condom wrapper back in its home.

“Uh…not really, but I will after this!”

It clicked in your head instantly. “Lucky for you, I have a breeding kink aswell. Fill you up until your body is full”

Chaewon squirmed when you pushed the head of your cock inside her soaked hole, becoming a bit difficult with how she was squeezing you. You rubbed her waist and peppered her face with kisses. “Princess, I need you to relax okay? I can’t fully go in if you keep…ah…clenching”

“It hurts, Y/n-ie”

“Look at me, Princess”

Chaewon gulped and slowly opened her tear filled eyes.

“There’s my pretty girl. I’ll take the pain away, I promise”

Thankfully, Chaewon had the strength to nod in response before you gently kissed her lips. Not aggressive like before and it really helped the older girl focus on your soft lips rather than the pain she was feeling in her stretched cunt.

Giving on last peck, you hid your face in her neck and groaned. “I’m fully in now, baby. I’ll be slow”

Chaewon’s back arched as you slowly pulled out and pushed in. “F-Fuck Y/n”

“Your pussy feels so good, Princess. Will fuck it so hard you only beg for my cock and no one else’s”

Chaewon pushed your lips further into her neck while you quickened your thrusts, the wet slapping noises beginning to become louder in the room.

“Ah…Ah Y/n! Fuck me like that, yes!”

You were quick to cover her mouth from releasing any more loud noises. “Shhh. Gotta be quick, baby. Take my cock”

One hand kept Chaewon’s legs apart as you began drilling into her like there’s no tomorrow. The Le Sserafim member clawed at your back and began drooling all over your palm from the intense pleasure.

“Yes yes yes Chaewon, need you to cum on my cock. Fucking soak me like a good bitch”

Chaewon’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as you pounded into her ferociously, the knot getting tighter in her stomach before it finally snapped when you pinched her clit.

She cried hard into your hand and shook violently beneath you. Seeing the orgasm hit her so hard got you reaching your limit too, sinking your teeth into her neck as you shot all your cum inside her abused pussy.

“F-Fuck…oh fuck, Chae. That’s it, baby. Such a good girl”

You laid on top of her breathlessly before gently holding her hand. “Please don’t go yet, pretty girl. Stay with me for the night”

It wasn’t like she wanted to leave anyways. She hugged you tightly and brushed your hair back. “I’m not going anywhere”

After a quick wash up and change of sheets, you allowed the older girl to sleep on your bed while you checked your phone, finding a lot of messages from your members.

[Minjeong Unnie🥸: keep your dick in your pants next time]

[Jimin Unnie😇: your horny jerk, we continued our movie sesh at Le Ssera’s dorm. You’re lucky Eunchae was asleep]

[Yizhuo Unnie😍: We’re gonna have a talk once we get back.]

[Aeri Unnie🙄: whore.]

“Yeah seems like you’ll be staying with me” You spooned the smaller idol and kissed her nape.

The next morning, Chaewon hissed as she limped downstairs to find your (again) shirtless self sitting at the kitchen table. You had your glasses on and typing away on the keyboard with a fresh cup of coffee sitting beside your phone.

Chaewon hugged you from behind and kissed your lips. “Morning”

“Good morning, pretty girl. Made you breakfast” you winked and gestured at the plate of a full English breakfast across you.

“Thank you. Have you seen my phone?”

“Charging besides the couch right now. I got a call from Yunjin Unnie and she’ll be picking you up in an hour”

“I wanna stay with you” Chaewon pouted.

You sighed and pulled her into your lap, kissing her lips over and over again. “I want you to stay too but we have schedules to go through. I’m free this weekend if you are. We can go out for dinner”

“Yeah sounds good”

You rubbed her waist lovingly. “So Miss Kim Chaewon, does this make you my girlfriend now or…”

“Thanks for asking after a long fuck sesh” she rolled her eyes, making you huff.

She then cupped your face and giggled. “Yes I am your girlfriend, dummy. I wouldn’t want anybody else”

“People are gonna think you’re some cougar now” you joked, earning a pinch to your ear.

“We’re only 3 years apart so shut your mouth”

“I’m kiddingggg! Now eat your breakfast before it gets cold. I prepared the meds next to your juice too” you tapped her butt, letting Chaewon hop off and sit in front of her plate.

“I love you” she whispered, red tinting her cheeks.

“I love you too”

“…”

“…cougar”

“YAH YOU JERK!”

[sophiamarieispinkbunny-chan]

Yor's Hometown and Westalis

Yor mentioned that she's from a place in Ostania called Eastern Nielsberg.

Obviously, I thought it was on the Eastern part of Ostania as well. But then we get this statement from her from the recent update, Chapter 92.

She's from the South part of Ostania-A Southern folk.

And how did I dare forgot, the dish that she can make without messing up was even named Southern Stew.

Why is this important? Because Mr. Green said this specific information on Chapter 39 about Southern Folks from Ostania.

Southern Folks have a code for defecting to the West which might indicate that they're the ones who usually do this.

Then I remembered this Twiyor moment from Chapter 35

Yor knows a lullaby from Loid's childhood that was always sung to him by his mother. How could Yor know that same exact lullaby?

I don't think I remember Yor mentioning Westalis neither in speech or thought (correct me if I'm wrong pls). Though that doesn't mean that she wasn't aware of the existence of it. But I don't think she, herself, would try or have tried defecting to Westalis. And she's too young and too focused on taking care of her brother to even consider this.

But how about her family? Her parents? Their relatives? Why did Yuri and her are left alone when their parents died? What happened to their grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles? Where were they and why didn't they took them in? Did they perhaps defect to the West and Yor's family remained on Ostania? We can't be sure since we only know a little about Yor's backstory and her entire family background.

But even in Loid's backstory, when he was talking to the croquette lady, she mentioned that she was part Ostanian herself and she has a family in the East even though she's residing in West. Meaning, there could also be people from Ostania that has Westalian relatives. Yor's family could have Westalian background or someone in their family tree is and who knows, her family may have actually some sort of connection with Loid's family in Luwen.

I actually don't know where I was going with this or if this even make sense or plot relevant but I can't help but be intrigued by this.

[timkontheunsure]

A CBT look at Blitz's core beliefs

Boring explanationy bit

Ok first off a core belief is this how the world works sort of thought. It has a ton of evidence on it side, or some big life altering event. Acting within is designed to kept you safe. And everyone has good and bad ones.

Think of it as of a short bit of base code running in the background, helping you go with your gut. A quick a short cut, but one that's got a lot of logic and past facts behind it.

They're mostly set up in childhood. So if you have an abusive parent, or trauma, you can get ones that become unhelpful for you in other situations. Like with people that really care about you.

A distortion is a little different. They affect how you look at the wold based off your mood, and are always negative. They specifically don't have a lot of evidence on their side. Like a prism that makes things a little different than what's really there.

They are an action to do based on your mood: catastrophizing (when everybody I love leaves me next year)

Black & white thinking (yes there's all this evidence showing Stolas cares, but that doesn't count as it just sex).

Thought spiraling (this one goes to Moxxie heh)

Or snap judgments based only only how your mood is (Ghostfuckers is fun and sexy, so we should take the case when I know they don't exist).

Blitz's core beliefs

So 'all royals are assholes' and 'no royal will care about an imp' are a core beliefs. Because this is definitely true, the 1% don't give a fig. (Stolas and Ozzie are basically round errors from what we've seen).

"I'm going to die alone" is also one.

So is "I make everyone's lives worse"

But his good ones are: "we don't get rid of family",

Ok with these two good ones we're going to have to go into rules for life. Blitz core belief is about family sticks together and protects each other. That's his code that always wants to run.

But he's also got evidence that family will kick you out for not being good enough, and hurting/killing people on accident. When you get code clashing you get cognitive dissidence, which physically hurts.

So you do a patch to reduce that pain. A rule to live by. 'If X is right and Y is right, then the variable that off is me.'

'We don't get rid of family, but we do get rid of me = I'm the only one who we can get rid of'.

With Loona it's we get orphanage lady saying words that could have come straight out of Cash's mouth. (I want Blitz to get a song telling that git off so hard).

Those hit Blitz hard, so hard he changed his mind on adopting a small little child, to a older teenage. CBT says that when something hits that hard it's because it hit at least 1 core belief. He sees himself in Loona in that moment, and never want another kid to be gotten rid of.

And other one could be bad or good depending on what's around it. 'I will be of use to family/people I love'. Blitz needs to feel useful to the people he loves, especially with growing in a family business working from being a kid.

And the rule Blitz has made for himself between the "I'm going to die alone" + 'I will be of use to family' = 'But maybe if I'm useful they won't abandoned of me yet'

(Also how sad it is that Blitz feels he's only allowed help, and support if it's a tit for tat, favours for favours exchange).

So everyone has a mixed bag of these good and bad. The problem happened when trauma responses give you ones that don't help you in a new situation. Like say a demon prince falling head over heels for him.

The idea of CBT is that if your struggling to look at what's changed since the core beliefs were set up. And if it isn't keeping you safe anymore, then you try to replace the old one with a new one; that has new evidence that backs it up. A update.

Like how Millie shows Blitz concrete examples of him improving her life. Just telling him he hasn't wrecked her life wouldn't work.

(This is one of reasons why Stolas' confection doesn't stick with Blitz. Blitz needs to know reasons why someone like Stolas loves him. It why he asks him in apology tour. Stolas tell your boy why he's so amazing for flips' sake).

Millie shows how joining IMP positively improved her live. "He gave me so much...A career, a husband, a future. And now...He's my best friend."

And Blitz helping Millie through alot of her own negative self talk she had. That 'she's not good enough', 'she's only the muscle', 'that Pride's too fancy for imps', and 'no imp works for them selves'.

These we're all Millie's core beliefs before joining IMP, if she still had these Rolando's words would have hurt her. But through having the support and example of Blitz she's removed those old bits of code.

When see her mum it obvious where and why she has these ideas about herself. Lynn describes her full time job, being employed direct by a company; as "Freelance". Because Imps can't work for themselves. (Even if she is impressed by Blitz). It's like different between working for Uber, instead of taxi firm. No protections, and an unsafe unstable job.

She pulls up her daughter's valid explanation why she lost the fight as "Excuses!", because Millie was "'raised better than that' as the muscle of the team.

She's very against Moxxie for being too week, and not having the same melee skills as Millie.

It obvious that she wants her daughter to have a similar life as her, where she keeps her head down, and has a partner that is able to defend Millie. This because there's a level of safety in this crab bucket attitude. She'd very unlikely to come to the notice of higher-ups. Like how Stolas being very involved in IMP and with Blitz.

But Blitz talked Millie round, and also showed her that she doesn't have to pigeon hole herself like that. She has years of evidence that Blitz could do it, and him pointing out how good she is when she fell back into thinking of herself as just the muscle.

Rolando's trying to exploit vulnerability that she's updated against. (It's super ineffective).

Ok after that sight side tangent of with Millie's head, back to Blitz's.

The "your going to die alone" has become a self-fulfilling prophecy, tripping Blitz up alot. Because it comes twofold for his fear of hurting his loved ones, making their life worse, and his fear of abandonment. Because he was abandoned, that did happen.

Making him feel like he has it to push away the people he love for there own, and that they'll leave him eventually so might as well push them away now. He's got a lot of previous evidence tied to this.

It's going to take more then Fizz and Millie telling him he didn't ruin theirs, for him to start to be able to unpick this. Because he's still certain it's true. Even if he's improved the lives of most of the people he knows.

And even Fizz who were directly effected by the mistake Blitz still punishing himself for, has told him that being made disabled didn't ruin his life.

There's a whole debate in my head whether Barbie would have had such trouble with addiction; if she wasn't assuming/told that her brother started the fire on purpose, that killed their mum. I'm honestly not sure. But it does seem like her resentment over it has made it harder on her. And that all seems to stem from Cash abuse. (I'm sure Cash is the one to tell Blitz that Fizz said he'd die alone).

Ok on to how the these are interacting/fucking up his relationship to Stolas. Blitz is definitely is afraid to love Stolas for a number of reasons. (You knew I'd get there at somepoint right 😛).

Cus a whole load are clashes together for him, making it really difficult for him because about see things from the outside. with the "royal demons don't give a shit about guys like us" one.

Making Blitz rationalize that it's gotta be about the sex, and being of use. Anything that shows this assumption is wrong has to be disregarded with distortion.

But when Stolas takes sex off the table, and still talking about feeling, and relationships; it makes Blitz's fear of abandonment go turbo. It's not rational but it's the only rule Blitz has that might make Stolas keep him.

He feels like that sex is all he has to give to a prince after all. And he wanted Stolas to stay for a long while now. It's not a grimoire his hallucinations put on a golden pedestal after all. And there a a lot of similarity to how Stolas and his Mumma vanish.

(Debøra pør favør pointed out this emotion damage so now you have to suffer too 😭https://x.com/_Choco_torta/status/1859028103772955135)

"I'm going to die alone" and 'I must be of use' Blitz freaks out badly in queen Bee after Ozzie's. Blitz believed that he's be rejected by Stolas, he's been shoved back into the box of it just being about lust.

Because he wants more, but feels he's unworthy, it's got him hurt coming and going. He's got to shut down any attempt by Stolas to have something real. But he was also hurt constantly feeling sex is all that he's got to offer, and all Stolas would want.

"I make everyone's lives worse" and "We don't get get rid of family". Ok this is into theory level but think Master Mind and Sinsmas are going hit these last two harddddd. (We're one week from mastermind).

It looks likely that Stolas is going to lose Via, face punishment for the illegal deal, and be dragged for the affair. With Via swallowing a lot gaslighting about not being loved by Stolas (lines from the trailer).

Blitz will probably going assume it's another another life he's made worse, where he's caused them to lose their own family. Don't think this will play well with last guy he fell in love with he blow up.

It's going to make it much harder for him to remove the idea; that that him loving some will only hurt them.

Alot of the reasons Blitz thought it was ok to get close to Stolas are tied up in these beliefs. He assumes Stolas was powerful and immortal, so couldn't be hurt physically like Fizz or Mumma.

He assumed that a prince would never fall for an imp, so only he could get hurt emotionally. It couldn't end the same way as Verosika. Blitz thinking he's the only one to be able to be hurt, and get to be useful not just to Stolas, but provide a better life for his whole family. It would seem like a bargain. (And the self punishment aspect probably wasn't going be a turn off for him, cus Blitz thinks he deserves it).

This season seems slow be eroding that pedestal Blitz put Stolas on (and vice versa). It's hurts, and it's knocking the stuffing out of both of them; but it's bring Stolas to earth for Blitz. Making his more of a real person in his eyes.

Eh probably a lot way to go, but I'm here for it.

(was very loosely based on this post, because it got me thinking about distortions vs core beliefs. But then I went off on a whole thing, so thought it would be weird to put it as a reblog. Still loved @akirathedramaqueen analysis and would recommend giving it a read 😀)

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Barón Tovar Takes a Wife

First Movement (Adagio sostenuto)

5.5K / Bridgerton AU Regency!Pero Tovar x fem!reader, a childhood best friends to lovers story

Summary: About to make your society debut and enter London's marriage mart, you don't expect an old friend whom you haven't seen in over 10 years to make a surprise appearance at the first ball of the season.

Warnings: None! Fluff! B, C, D, E, F Bridgerton make appearances. It's me so there's a cute nickname (won't spoil). The masterlist includes a few words about how this reader insert is written - essentially, no reader description other than having hair and wearing dresses in the style of this era, reader has a backstory; much of this part is exposition (so maybe a little slow but we'll get there!😊)

A/N: My plan is to post the entire series before Season 3 of Bridgerton airs, because the story is intended to take place in the background of the same season and if things don't make sense after the show comes out then oh well 🤭 I'm also only 2/3 of the way through Julia Quinn's books, so please forgive me if some of my characterizations of the Bridgertons are not wholly correct 🙏🏻

Wonderful Bridgerton inspired dividers by @saradika-graphics 🥰

Series Masterlist

The Duchess of Hastings stands behind you, admiring the reflection in the mirror of the two of you together, “I dare say, if you had debuted with me during my season, there is a good chance that I may not have been the Diamond.”

“Oh, shush, your Grace,” you make a funny face at her in the mirror, to which she laughs and pokes you in the ribs, “Don’t you start with this ‘Your Grace’ business with me.”

That Daphne Bridgerton is your dearest and oldest friend in England is something you consider to be one of the great fortunes of your life, of which, as the daughter of a Count, you have many.  Violet Bridgerton and your mother, the Countess, had been dear friends and as such, much of your early childhood in England had been spent at Bridgerton House, running around with not only the same aged Daphne, but her elder and younger siblings as well.  The Bridgertons are one of the most beloved families of the ton, their good natured and spirited personalities recommending themselves to everyone, and accordingly, your memories of when your two families would gather remain some of the most joyous of your childhood.

Sadly, your dear mother passed away from illness when you were only seven years of age and your beloved father, who loved her more than life itself, could not bear to stay in England much without her.  The Count was one of several nobles charged with governance of Her Majesty’s Royal Naval Fleet; a gentle man, his purview was primarily diplomatic (as opposed to militaristic) and he thus travelled widely, often and always for long periods of time.

Though he did not wish to remain where so many of his memories dwelled, the Count could not bear to leave his only child behind, and consequently, you had joined your father on his travels.  He proudly raised a cheerful, spirited daughter who loved the seas and adventure as much as she did reading and music.  Your father found that exposing you to and requiring you to immerse yourself in so many foreign cultures at a young age led you to be the most sympathetic and kind hearted child, one who others found easy to converse with and befriend on account of your good humoured nature and open minded heart.  Unencumbered by the rigid etiquette requirements (and dress code!) of British high society, you happily embraced many freedoms that other young ladies of your age and breeding did not have the opportunity to enjoy.  Your father taught you much about the ships and business of the naval fleet, subjects to which you took a great interest; to this day, you know your way around most ships better than some sailors.  The Count was especially proud of your affinity for diplomacy, understanding the importance of fairness and tough negotiation both in foreign matters and managing fleets.  You loved all of it – spending countless hours pouring over maps and letters of diplomatic matters with your father and absorbing all you could; as you got older, you took great pride in the way your father would sometimes seek your opinion and advice on business matters and delighting when he would praise you on your ideas.

While he was unorthodox, your father could not be accused of being neglectful; he would not forgo your formal and societal education, knowing that one day, you would have to return to live in England.  Hiring only the most adventurous and brave governesses to accompany your travels, the Count ensured that your literary, numerical, musical and artistic accomplishments and pursuits could rival those of your peers back home.  You learned to dance the dances of grand balls, though you had only the few foreign dignitary hosted events to practice.  Your only other occasion to practice came when you would return for your infrequent visits to England, reuniting with your beloved Bridgertons to spend nearly all your time catching up and laughing with Daphne and her siblings, and take in what you could of British society before once again being swept away on another ship.  Though brief, these reunions with your friends, coupled with your frequent letters were enough to ensure your friendships remained strong and cherished over the years.

Two years ago, Daphne had made her societal debut, meeting and marrying her love, the Duke, during the marriage season and you could not have been more delighted for your friend.  That season should have also been your debut season, except that you and your father were in the Far East and would not have been able to complete the Count’s business and return in time.  Since you had postponed one year, what was two?  If you had your way, you would have made it three, not eager to give up the life of travel and leisure that you’ve grown accustomed to.  However, when the Queen wrote to ask why the daughter of one of her esteemed Counts has not yet been presented, both you and your father had to regretfully concede that your life as a carefree sea farer was over.

And thus, you find yourself in your present circumstance: in a luxurious silk gown the colour of swan feathers, wearing what might actually be swan feathers in your hair, about to be presented to the Queen before embarking on your first social season.  To be honest, you’re not terribly nervous, save for whatever nerves one always has whenever attempting something new, and you have good reasons not to be.

The first being that you are in the very capable hands of your great friend, the Duchess.  The now Dowager Viscountess had promised your mother that when the time for your debut came, it would be the Bridgerton family’s honour to sponsor you.  If anything, you felt that the honour was all yours – not only were you to have the support and backing of one of the most respected and revered families during your season, you would also be blessed with their company.  As fortune would have it, due to the timing of your debut, Violet had prepared herself to take on the duty of presenting not one but two girls: yourself and her third eldest daughter, Francesca. 

Fearing it was far too much work and pressure, you had assured Violet, whom you loved as a second mother, that she need not fret too much over you; you’re a woman of twenty-three with more world experience than most men twice your age, and encouraged her to focus her attentions on her own daughter.  Violet had been aghast at the implication that she didn’t think of you as one of her daughters, and you were about to be on the receiving end of a scolding that only a mother could dispense when Daphne came to your rescue.  As the Duchess of Hastings, she herself had the right to present young ladies at court, and she declared herself delighted to be your patroness this season.  This was decidedly a win-win; not only could Violet concentrate on Francesca’s prospects, you could now look forward to spending the season with your dear friend by your side.

The second reason you’re not overly anxious is that despite being older than most of the girls debuting at the same time, you know you have plenty to recommend you to potential suitors.  No, you are not terribly conceited nor do you hold your own attributes in such high esteem, but rather, very practically, you know most suitors will not let a small thing such as age deter them from the handsome fortune your father has bestowed upon you. 

The Count was forever exasperated with the shortcomings of the laws of inheritance and how they prevented his one child from inheriting his estate, but he made up for it the best he could with the legal avenues available to him.  First, he set aside a healthy dowry for you, so that you would be sure to attract a similarly healthy crop of high society gentlemen from which to choose a husband.  Second, via his will, you would be provided for for the remainder of your life with a generous per annum allowance that rivaled the income of many estates; you were to want for nothing even if you never married. 

And finally, known only to a select few, your father had a vast investment in an international fleet separate from the naval fleet of the queen; a beloved exploration and trade business venture that was the Count’s passion project - you and him spending many enjoyable hours pouring over the plans and movements of this fleet.  The dividends from your father’s shares went directly into a trust of which you (and any future children of yours) are the sole beneficiary, though the capital had to be held by a man.  It was the Count’s thinking that in addition to the income, it was only fair that you benefitted from a venture that you had invested much of your own heart and time into.  Naturally, being a part of your father’s estate, this investment could be passed down to the next Count (a distant relative), but your father had other plans.  If the intended recipient was willing, you father wanted to sell his shares to his future son-in-law, allowing for the dividends to continue flowing to you and so that you may remain close to the business via your husband’s involvement. 

In other words, there are plenty of reasons that potential suitors who might otherwise be dismissive of your age and lack of societal presence, may find you attractive (the least of which were probably your charm and wit); you can afford to be choosy and you fully intend to be.  And while you’re not quite so hopeful to wish for a great love like that of your parents, or even Daphne and her beloved Simon, you dearly wish for a husband that will understand and respect you; one who will celebrate you for your mind, experience, opinions and all the reasons why you’re different due to having grown up the way you did.

Daphne seems to have high hopes that there will be many potential suitors who will live up to your expectations.  You’re less confident than she, but still more optimistic than not.

Flopping yourself down on the chaise next to Eloise, the two of you heave heavy sighs in unison.  After the nerve-racking presentation to the queen earlier this week, the following days have been a non-stop flurry of ribbons, fittings, etiquette lessons and teas with the express purpose of study in the who’s who of the ton.  In just a few hours, all of Violet and Daphne’s hard work and preparations will be put on display when your contingent attends the first event of the season: the Danbury Ball.

Eloise passes a box of candy to you and you select a treat gratefully.  Though Daphne is your closest friend, you’ve sometimes found yourself having a fair amount in common with Eloise and know her to be a trustworthy confidant; this is one of those times.  While you don’t think you have it in you to hate anything as much as Eloise despises the marriage mart, the both of you at least have the good fortune of being able to be picky with your suitors and moreover, wish to exercise that particular privilege.  For Eloise, marriage is a cage.  For you, it’s the not marriage itself, but a union with an imprudent match that you wish to avoid.  If you can no longer be free to sail the seas and wander through the valleys and streets of the foreign lands that call your name, you must insist that the home you’re being called home to roost is at the very least, pleasant.

“I beg of you,” murmurs Eloise, “Please let all the fashionable young men fill up your dance card so that there shall be none left for me.”

You steal another piece of candy, “I’m afraid there’s more than enough young men to go around, El.  Plus, you really ought to beseech Franny for your request, my dance card may struggle for applicants on account of me being such an old maid,” you giggle.

“None of that negativity now,” chimes in Daphne from the open door, “tonight is full of possibilities.”

During the season, you’re staying at Bridgerton House so to be close to all the finery of dresses, jewels, shoes, ladies’ maids and moral support that you may need.  Your father is staying nearby in another house on Grosvenor Square, and comes by most days to see his daughter and dear family friends for breakfast at the very least.  You have loved your life with your father, but at times like these, when you are laughing at and listening to the loving snipes and bickering of the Bridgerton siblings, you often wonder what it would have been like to have a more traditional upbringing.  Pushing that thought out of your mind, you stand and pull Eloise up with you so that the two of you can follow the Duchess to the next room where you’re expected to choose from the glittering selection of dresses laid out for tonight.

As you lean towards selecting a pretty lavender gown, Daphne fills you in on the processional arrangements for your entrances tonight, “Mama, Franny, Anthony and Kate will take the first carriage, then you, Eloise and I will follow in the second.  We will enter the ball in that order as well.”

“What about Colin and Ben?”

“They’re meeting with some friend from Colin’s travels whom he met in… I want to say Greece?  They will make their own way and meet us at the ball.”  You nod agreeably; as long as everyone is together at some point or another, your first season event will feel a lot less daunting.

---

As you walk into the Danbury estate, you cannot but feel a bit overwhelmed by all the elegance and glamour on display.  Though no stranger to luxury and finer things, it’s not very often that you find yourself amidst so much opulence.  Eyes shining as you take in the finery, your voice is full of excitement and genuine awe as you compliment Lady Danbury and thank her for hosting tonight’s soiree.  Hand clasped tight in Daphne and Eloise’s as you make your way down the main hall to the ballroom, you see Colin further down on the right side of the hallway, waving alongside Benedict.  Waiting by the wall with the Bridgerton brothers is a third gentleman, tall and broad shouldered with soft, curly brown hair who currently has his back to you; Colin has on a mischievous grin and he’s speaking to the stranger quietly, eyes flitting back to you and his sisters periodically as you approach.  This can’t be good, you think with suspicion.  When you’re a few steps away from meeting with the brothers, Colin gives the stranger a slight nod and he turns around; before you even have a chance to look upon the newcomer’s face, you hear a familiar sweet baritone voice say, “Hello, Dulce.”

At first, you’re in shock; the Spanish word for candy is not a nickname people commonly call you and it’s one you haven’t heard in over ten years.  Then joy of recognition and realization overtake you and you completely forget where you are, crying out, “Pero!!!”  Your arms behave of their own accord and fly open to wrap around his neck as you launch yourself into the handsome man’s arms.

He hugs you back firmly and whispers low in your ear, “Happy to see you, too” before releasing you, the both of you immediately stepping apart and drop your hands to your sides, remembering where you are and that the eyes of the ton are always watching.  But you can’t help but beam; nor can you look away from Pero’s face. 

Pero Tovar had been your most constant and beloved friend for many of your happiest childhood years spent abroad.  Pero’s father, a Barón of Spain, was in charge of naval governance for his country in a similar capacity as your father was for England and accordingly, their paths crossed regularly in foreign countries.  Both men of gentlemanly dispositions, the Count and the Barón had forged a deep and lasting friendship as they conducted their business.  Another thing that they had bonded over was the fact that they were both widows who uncharacteristically chose to bring and raise their children with them on their travels. 

So, although Pero is eight years your elder and already in his early teens when you first met, being the only two children of sea loving foreign diplomats in the strange lands you found yourselves in readily recommended you to each other and you had become happy and frequent playmates.  Pero devoted hours and hours to your amusement, allowing himself to play more juvenile games of pretend that he may not otherwise with compatriots of his own age, and with his encouragement you grew to be brave and curious, always wishing to keep up with the older boy.  He helped you with your studies, and you played music for him, learning and mastering the pieces he enjoyed the most.  The two of you shared a love of literature and it became your special version of a traditional hunt in each new country you landed in to find foreign language versions of the other’s favourite books so that you could read the translations alongside your worn English copies.  Some of the most cherished copies of your favourite books, ones you carry with you from country to country still, were gifts from Pero. 

As you got older, your shared adventures expanded to include exploring the streets of new cities, trying local cuisines and frolicking on the beaches of the coasts of Italy, Portugal and even India.  The last time you had seen him, he was a strapping young man of twenty and you had been twelve.  His father was returning to Spain for an undetermined amount of time to deal with affairs of his estate, and Pero would be entering university, having postponed his acceptance for two years already.  Although you had each promised to write, the letters were far and few between and eventually you lost track of Pero – you can hardly blame either of you; you were travelling with your father and not always easy to find, and you didn’t really expect a young man concentrating on his studies to have the time to write to a young girl despite having been her very best friend for so many years.

But now he’s standing right in front of you and you can hardly believe your eyes.  He’s impossibly tall and wide, a far cry from the lanky boy with whom you scrambled over rocks on the beaches of Portugal, but he’s still tanned, leading you to surmise that he must still sail or at least get a healthy amount of sun regularly.  And while his face is older, devastatingly handsome with a cutting jawline partially hidden by untamed facial scruff, he’s completely recognizable to you.  An easy clue is the scar that runs from above his left eyebrow down past his eye, though faded from when you saw it last, but it’s the indulgent smile he’s giving you right now that gives him away to you.

“What are you doing at this ball? Did you know I would be here?” you can’t help but continue to stare at Pero wide-eyed, grinning like a fool.

“Oh!  We made the connection earlier this week at dinner,” chimes in Colin, “We were going to bring him over to the house but thought this would be more fun.”

You make to swat at Colin’s arm. “How did you meet this scoundrel?” you jest, with absolutely no malice in your voice, pointing your thumb at the still laughing Bridgerton brother.  As your group starts to move towards the ballroom, Pero falls into an easy step by your side, “We met when Colin was taking in the crisp sea air of Mykonos, and then again last year in the vineyards of Tuscany.  He made for excellent company after a long day of helping the locals prune grape vines.  Naturally, when I arrived in London for business this month, I had to look him up.”

Daphne is now tugging you towards the ballroom by your hand, and in turn, you’ve grabbed onto and are practically dragging Eloise down the hall with you.  You shout back to Pero, “I want to hear everything!” and can’t help the smile that spreads across your excited face when he nods after you.

“Oh!” you breathe, invigorated from the surprise of seeing Pero, as you come to a stop right before the entrance way.  Daphne smiles over at you, “It was so hard keeping it a secret from you!”

You’re astonished, “You knew about Pero as well?”

“Yes, I thought it might give you an additional boost of confidence to have another friend’s support during your first event.” 

You smile at your sweet friend and squeeze her hand affectionately, “Thank you!  It does and I’m delighted to see Pero again.  But in truth, my confidence could never be lacking when I have a friend like you next to me.” 

Daphne gives you her biggest smile and squeezes your hand right back.  A moment later, the three of you step into the ballroom and meet the gazes of the other attendees as you’re announced.

---

The ball is a whirlwind.  It seems you hardly have a moment to even catch your breath, never mind catch up with Pero.  From the moment you walked in to the grand hall, you were pulled in this direction and then that, introduced to new person after new person, some of whose names were familiar from your visits home over the years, and others only from the copious amounts of study you’ve done on the ton over the past week.  You’ve certainly forgotten all their names by now. 

Then it’s dance after dance after dance with the young gentleman that Daphne parades in front of you.  The dancing itself is quite pleasant and a lovely way to shake out some of your jitters, but you find the small talk hardly enough to get to know your partners, and when the dance is over and you’re once again being whisked away to another introduction or meeting that the Duchess has lined up for you.  The few opportunities you’ve had to take a breather and indulge in a glass of lemonade, you’ve been happy to retreat back to Pero and your small familiar group; but just when you’ve started to entreat your old friend to open up about his adventures since you saw him last, another potential suitor will be introduced and the entire cycle starts over again.

It’s only when you’re halfway through the evening that the frenzy has died down enough that you can observe and be amused by Pero’s behaviour at the ball.  While you’re constantly twirling around the dancefloor, you notice that he never leaves his position against the wall and doesn’t dance at all; he mainly scowls and looks displeased, hardly speaking to anyone other than the Bridgertons or you when you have a free moment.  You feel his eyes follow you as you glide across the dance floor with the young men that have asked you to dance, and even when you’re making your way through the room on Daphne’s arm, meeting and making small talk with the other families of the ton.  When you do happen to look up and search for him, you often find him glowering and looking dissatisfied, though if you catch his eye, his expression will soften slightly. 

Once while you were dancing with Lord Whitfield, you had caught Pero’s eye mid-turn and made a silly quizzical face at him, as if to ask What’s going on with you? and you think you see him laugh briefly before the steps of the dance require you to turn away from him.  You wonder why frowns so fearsomely and if there’s a reason for him to be so stoic and curt with the rest of the ton.  It’s so odd to you as you’ve never had so much as a cross word from him in all the time you’ve known him, not even when you had snuck out of the compound in Singapore when you were nine so you could watch the fireworks display.  Pero had come looking for you, his face serious and eyes panicked when he finally found you in the busy square, but he never once got mad.  Instead, he swore not to tell your father, and promised that if you had wanted to see the fireworks up close, he would accompany you.  And then he did just that the next night and the night after that.  But here, when not engaging the company of his friends, Pero’s countenance is positively sour.  Any hopes harboured by the mamas of the ton for snagging a Spanish nobility son-in-law this season are quickly dashed.  Barón Tovar is decidedly not here to find a wife.

With the evening more than half over, you realize that unless you make the point to do so, an opportunity to speak more than a few minutes with Pero will surely not present itself.  And while you are having fun meeting potential suitors, your mind consistently wanders to Pero throughout the evening.  Aside from simply wishing to catch up with him and be in his comforting presence, you do have something important you feel compelled to speak to him on.

After a particularly spirited quadrille, you curtsey your gratitude for the dance to Mr. Sedgewick, and before any of the young men you spy hovering nearby can approach you, you hurry as elegantly as you can toward where Pero is standing awkwardly pressed to the wall. 

Pero, having seen the look of determination on your face when seeking him out, asks with concern when you come up to him, “Is everything okay, Dulce?”

There he is, you smile when you see the kind, gentle expression of the boy that you knew for so many years, “Everything is fine, Pero.  Although I must admit to needing a respite from all the endless socializing.  Do you think we could get some lemonade?”

“Of course.  I would be happy to accompany you in fetching a glass.”

With Pero by your side, any person who previously had designs on engaging you during this brief break between dances now thinks better of it; you chuckle to yourself as his fearsome expression comically paves a clear path for you to the refreshments table.  Once having secured your drink, you ask Pero if you can speak to him privately.

Careful not to lead you from view of other people lest it incite a scandal, Pero finds a quiet place in the entrance hallway and turns to find you looking up at him rather seriously.

When you’re certain you have his attention, you launch into your confession, “Pero, please allow me to tell you how sorry I was to hear of your father’s passing.  I remember him as such a kind, generous man, and such a wonderful friend to my father and by extension, me.  I will always think of him with tremendous fondness.”

“Thank you, Dulce.  I know he thought very highly of both you and your father and forever treasured your friendships.”

But you’re not done and start to shake your head, eyes filling with tears, “And I’m so very sorry that I did not write to you at the time.  I didn't know where you were, but I should have been more diligent in my efforts to find you.  I deeply regret not being there for you if you needed someone.  I hope you were not alone during that difficult time.”

You hang your head in shame.  Pero feels a deep affection for you blossoming in his chest; before him is the same sweet and compassionate girl he knew when he was a boy.  Tender-hearted and endlessly considerate of the feelings of others, you always had more empathy than you knew what to do with; he himself had been on the receiving end of your care and concern more times than he could count.  Pero gently tips you chin up with his gloved finger, “It was a tough time and I miss him a great deal.  But he was an incredible man and I strive to follow the example he set for me everyday.  So, in many ways, he is still with me.  No need for any apologies.”  He gives you what he hopes is a soft and reassuring smile.

In return, you grin, “Who are you and what have you done with my friend?  The boy I knew would have made me pay dearly for even the slightest offense - my portion of dessert for a week, at the very least.”

Unable to hold back his own grin, Pero is finding it easy to slip back into this familiar type of playful banter with you, “Well, I was trying to be a gentleman, but since you think me nothing more than a brute, I shall have no trouble devising an appropriate punishment.  For your transgression against me, I demand… a dance.”

You laugh whole-heartedly and it feels wonderful to laugh loudly at something genuinely funny rather than the quiet polite laughter you’ve been making most of the evening. “A dance?  Well, that is hardly a concession for me!  One dance with you means one less spot on my dance card for some lord I don’t know but who Daphne thinks I might find charming,” you joke.

“Are you finding your potential suitors so far to be villains or are they all just very boring?” smirks Pero.

Giving him a little punch in the arm to show him you’re not really complaining, “I am not so terribly unfeeling.  They are for the most part fine enough gentlemen.  The particular circumstance we find ourselves in just makes them so very eager.  It can feel terribly awkward.”

“None of them are good enough for you anyway.”

“Oh, and you are?” you jest, eyes full of mirth.

“Dulce, I’m the worst of the bunch,” counters Pero, leaning in close.

“I don’t doubt it,” you haven’t smiled this wide all evening.

“Be that as it may, the price you must pay to regain my favour remains the same.  Shall we?” Pero holds out his arm, waiting for you to accept his dance invitation; you hold on to him gratefully and head back into the main ballroom, realizing this is the first dance of the ball that you’ve truly looked forward to.

When Pero takes his place across from you, the tittering from the crowd that the Barón has finally taken to the dance floor can be heard over the opening notes of the music.  You can’t help but giggle, and Pero beams back at you – your light laughter more melodic than any music he’s ever heard.

Hand firmly curling around your waist, Pero sways you to the beat and the two of you carry out the steps of the dance comfortably together.  You hadn’t realized how much stress you’ve been under or how much tension you’ve been holding in until now, when you find yourself actually relaxing in Pero’s strong hold.  For the first time this evening, you’re dancing without nerves or the pressure of having to make polite conversation or a good first impression; you can simply be.  You sigh in contentment.

“What is it, Dulce?  Are my dance skills not to the standard set by your other partners this evening?”

“Hardly,” you chuckle, “I know for a fact that you dance remarkably well.  And if I were to have any complaints, the blame would rest squarely on my shoulders since we learned these dances together.”

“That’s true, we can only be as good as the partners we practice with.”

“Exactly. At least that’s what Madam used to say, right before she would rap you on your shoulders with her rhythm baton,” you muse, nostalgic.

“That weapon had a name?  I have not thought of Madam for many years now, but upon my word if I did not straighten up and stiffen my arms just now.”

You share another chortle as only two close friends with a long history of fond memories and inside jokes between them can.  When you sigh again, Pero cocks his scarred eyebrow at you.

“Do not think me dissatisfied, my Lord.  It is simply just so comfortable dancing with you, as if it has not been over ten years since we last did so.”

“I feel the same way, Dulce.”

You smile sincerely at Pero; although you could explain yourself further, you somehow know that he understands your meaning without you having to do so.  Feeling content, both heart and mood light in the safety of Pero’s closed frame, you find yourself wishing that you could spend the rest of the ball dancing with only him.

I've never done a tag list before so please let me know if it doesn't work, or you don't/do want to be on it, or it sets your phone on fire 😅 @drewharrisonwriter @inept-the-magnificent @tuquoquebrute @titabel

[boolger]

I just want a cowgirl for Christmas

Kate Laswell x f!reader💖 MDNI 💖one shot

Idk how to explain why they’re all in America and all cowboys coded but I can explain that I’ve had the song “cowgirl for Christmas” by Drake Milligan stuck in my head since last Christmas/jul. So like, happy holidays if you celebrate any kind of thing this month or upcoming months. 💖Happy holidays the entire year actually ily all my sinners, y’all have been very loving to me this year for some reason and it has made life a lil funnier in many ways. Anyways, hopefully I’ll be able to post something else than this before jul but who the fuck knows. Kate deserves a lil lady for Christmas, she gotta meet that wife somehow ya know. 💖 I’ve done my best to keep the description vague so we can all pretend to be Kate’s Christmas love. However, reader is described as she/her. Uh, this was supposed to be much longer, but time and mental health - and I have to deal with my family lmao

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

The bar is almost empty. It doesn’t surprise Kate that much; it’s the 19th of December after all and people need to buy the last couple of Christmas presents if they celebrate that shit. The snow falls outside, giving her boots a nice crunch whenever she moves around in it. Collected by the cowboy hat on top of her head whenever she walks around. But it’s warm in the bar and the alcohol is good as she nurses her second glass, well aware she is gonna have to walk home through that shitty shoe, most likely freezing her ass off on the way.

She is off work, has no responsibilities until next year forces her back in the uniform at the base. In fact, she has no plans at all - on purpose.

“Ya’ look miserable, Laswell,” Alex said, stopping in front of her with a cup of coffee, with a bit of milk in… Kate suspected there were her usual two sugar cubes in.

And that was the truth, wasn’t it? She was miserable and she had absolutely no plans of changing it. A grinch, a sad, lonely woman who purposely drowned her feelings in the local bar, forced to listen to the Christmas songs and people’s chatter in the background.

“I didn’t order this,” she replied, looking up at the man, squinting at his amused smile, “‘nd I’m not miserable.”

“Sure you’re not,” Alex replied, “and it’s on the house - Farah says I have to be nice to you these days.”

Kate huffed, embarrassed over how even Alex’s wife knew of her pitiful behaviour.

“Thank you,” she replied instead of being mean.

“You’re welcome - and you know you're always welcome at ours at Christmas, sweetie,” it was a soft reminder, an offer that you knew he might hope that you would agree to.

“Nah, thanks though,” she managed to give him a smile, instead taking a sip of the coffee, running a hand over the brim of the cowboy hat next to her on the counter, “I’ll stay with the troublemakers at home.”

Said troublemakers were the two horses at her little farm. In truth, it wasn’t those that were a problem - it was merely an excuse to wallow in self pity at home, due to the loneliness that grew in her bones around every Christmas she spent with her friends.

They all had partners by now. Johnny and Simon had their shared wife who was pregnant once more, little Tommy almost three by now. Kyle had been with his girlfriend for three years by now and she suspected one of them would propose soon - probably her, as Kyle seemed to be too shy about it, busy looking for a house to give her. John and Nikolai were close to getting their adoption papers finished, she knew that, so they could give them to their two boys at Christmas, the two boys that they had fostered for the last four years.

It was this - all the love surrounding her, all the joy, all the time they had been together in which Kate had been like now; alone.

She took another sip of the coffee before nursing her whiskey instead - another song starting up and Kate’s eyes flickered close for a moment.

Don't want a set of shiny new spurs

A seat for my saddle, a rope for the herd

Kate huffed at the lyrics, emptying her whiskey before asking Alex for one more, ignoring the sound of the door to the bar opening and closing again.

Santa, I don't need a sleigh full of gifts

There's only one thing on my Christmas list

He filled up her glass, while looking over your shoulder with a grin as Kate listened to the boots moving across the door.

“Hi again, sweetheart,” Alex greeted and Kate finally pulled herself together, looking over her shoulder.

I want a cowgirl for Christmas this year

A cowboy sure gets lonely way out here

Kate had never seen a more beautiful woman in her entire life, wearing cowboy boots, a big coat and jeans as she pulled off her knitted hat, a thin layer of white snow on her clothes.

Wrap her up in jeans and boots

Send her down to me from you

I just want a cowgirl for Christmas

Kate was sure the most perfect being ever existed had just blessed her own sinful soul with your mere presence - Kate wasn’t even sure she was worthy of breathing in the same air as the newcomer.

“Hiya Alex,” oh, lord, even your voice made Kate want to smile, though she didn’t want to come off creepy, so she looked forward again, taking a sip of the whiskey, “can I get a beer?”

I need a little lady, little lady, little lady, little lady, little lady, hoo

I want a little lady, little lady, little lady, little lady, little lady, hoo

“Sure thing,” Alex replied, charming smile on his face as always, “gonna join Laswell ‘ere and mope over Christmas?”

Kate spluttered, sending Alex a nasty stare as he had just betrayed her; pushed her in front of the bus filled with embarrassment and Kate knew her cheeks were growing red. Goddamn Keller.

Ropes and rides right by my side

With starry eyes that sparkle, arms to keep me warm at night

“I am not moping, Alex,” Kate grumbled but she felt herself light up a little, straightening her back as the sound of the cowboy boots came to stand next to her.

“Well, I ain’t really moping too much either,” you said and Kate dared to look over at you as you rested against the counter right next to her, “but I wouldn’t mind joining you?”

That's all I need this Christmas Eve

I just want a cowgirl for Christmas, aha

“Sure,” Kate managed before clearing her throat, “you’re more than welcome to. I - uh, I’m Kate Laswell.”

God she was pathetic at this - she hadn’t flirted with somebody forever and you looked like you had just stepped out of a lesbian cowgirl’s wet dream… perhaps her own.

She offered you her hand and you took it, your fingers a little cold from the outside.

“Nice to meet ya’, Kate,” you replied, your eyes seeming like they sparkled as you told her your name. Kate couldn’t help but imagine your hair against her bedsheets, her fingers running along that pretty body of yours.

“Likewise,” Kate smiled, straightening her back a little as Alex gave you the beer, before he sent Kate a wink. Asshole.

“You new in town?” She added, focusing back on you.

“Yeah,” you took a sip of the beer, a pretty line of white foam laying along your upper lip until you licked it off with your pink tongue, “moved in nearby two weeks ago. Been busy, though.”

“Ah,” Kate nodded along, “explains why I haven’t seen you, then.”

You looked younger than herself and for a moment, she felt like an old pervert. She was 39 and you looked like you were 25 maybe. It both sent sparks of lust through her - together with the feeling of being dirty. Simping, a word Soap had said, for a younger woman.

“Likewise,” you answered, adding a soft “I would have remembered.”

Were you… flirting with her? Kate felt herself blush as if she was a teenager and not a grown up woman. As if she wasn’t much older than you - fuck, it made her feel dirty, in a way she couldn’t describe. Yet it made butterflies flutter inside her stomach, flying around the flowers that had suddenly bloomed.

“ are what doing this Christmas you?” The words almost tumbled out of her mouth, unable to be said in the right order, her lungs filled with a feeling she hadn’t felt for a while, “I uhm- I mean, what are you doing this Christmas?”

You didn’t laugh, but you smiled so sweetly, almost lovingly and Kate was sure she wouldn’t be able to stand with the rush of emotions that went through her at it.

“Not much,” you admitted, your finger playing with the rim of the beer glass, though you didn’t take your gaze of her, “don’t know anybody here - what about you?”

“Not much either,” Kate breathed, “want to uhm - maybe hang out?”

She had never felt as ridiculous as now; in fact she wanted to slam her head into the counter - maybe run away. Even if the town buried her, it wouldn’t be enough. The pure embarrassment of asking a stranger, a hot, beautiful stranger, like that, to spend Christmas with her. Had she gone mad? Perhaps it was the alcohol.

“I’m so sorry,” she hurried to say, “I - you don’t know me, that was inappropriate of me an—“

“I would like that.”

Which such simple words, you made her heart beat a little bit more normal, you made her able to breath again, her throat able to untangle.

“I - yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a warm smile and for the first time in years, Kate felt as if Christmas might not be that bad this year.

I just want a cowgirl for Christmas.

[classiccowboy]

instagram j.b.

summary: follow along with joe and his WIFE evie as they go through his football career.

*face claim is yasmin quintana*

series masterlist.

liked by bengals, joeyb_9, and 983,729 others…

evie: honeymoon avenue.

view all 4,738 comments…

user: i love you guys together!

> evie: 💗💗

user: am i the only one that doesn’t like her?

> millyg: it’s the jealousy in you.

> user: i don’t see how anyone can’t like her, she’s so nice!

user: yikes

joeyb_9: no complaints, probably the best avenue out there.

> evie: thanks for your input, i totally agree.

> millyg: gtfo you guys 🤣

joeyb_9

liked by evie, lahjay10_, and 902,519 others

joeyb_9: we will send a post card.

view all 5,739 comments…

user: nooooo that’s two times in a row he’s posted ev

> user: they are literally married now, she’s not going anywhere.

user: in his *husband* era

user: i can’t stomach this

millyg: still mad i got left at home.

> user: i don’t like them together, im not jealous or anything something just feels off.

> user: i think that means your jealous.

evie: the views were 10/10

> joeyb_9: i was only looking at you.

> lahjay10_: 🧀🧀🧀

evie

liked by joeyb_9, millyg, and 810,826 others

evie: some small things…🤍

view all 3,738 comments…

user: i’m SO single

user: she doesn’t have to rub it in

user: NOT THE PRETTY GIRL. ladies he is everything..

user: if he wanted to he would

millyg: not joes failed cursive attempt

> evie: it wasn’t TERRIBLE 🤣

user: being with joe burrow is this girls whole personality

joeyb_9: the prettiest pretty girl.

> evie: 😭💗

user: so when are we expecting the divorce?

user: take notes fellas

user: joe and ev being so taylor coded makes me sick

> evie: swifties are superior, even if jb likes to pretend he isn’t one.

joeyb_9

liked by obj, evie, and 1,785,002 others

joeyb_9: had the basketball versus football convo too many times

view all 2,372 comments…

user: low key forgot you weren’t just some guy from cincinnati

> evie: THE guy from cincinnati

obj: Da boyyyyyyyy

user: tough. basketball tho

> evie: wrong answer. 😭

user: Joey B is A list now

evie: it was so nice of you to take photos with a few fans today.

> joeyb_9: 😎

> user: ev is coming for those opps

user: not him hanging with obj

user: such a weeb

evie

liked by millyg, joeyb_9, and 1,037,927 others

evie: went to something called a white party?

view all 2,801 comments…

user: you win

user: he actually took you with him?

> evie: i actually got invited to come with him.

> user: standing on business.

user: YOU MISSED TAYLOR FOR THIS?????

> evie: marriage is about sacrifice.

joeyb_9: 🥵🥵🥵

user: this is everything

user: that joe pic is my new background thanks

> evie: charity work is my passion.

user: i keep coming back to look at this post

user: second pic sent me into cardiac arrest.

> evie: you should’ve seen it in person.

joeyb_9

liked by bengals, lahjay10_, and 710,991 others

joeyb_9: “It’s time to go mobile.”

view all 3,729 comments…

user: YESSIR

lahjay10_: My step brother

> evie: hell yeah

user: do you want my mobile phone number

> evie: he doesn’t have a mobile phone.

> user: you are so funny mrs. burrow. 🤣💀

> user: why are you always so rude?

> user: she isn’t rude, but she’s always going to let us know that’s her man. don’t play like you wouldn’t do the same thing if random girls were coming at your bf with this kind of shit.

> user: i agree, she isn’t being rude but she’s never really let people show blatant disrespect for their relationship. even when they were in college.

tylerboyd: levels

> evie: BIG LEVELS

evie: you’re so hot. there is said it.

joeyb_9: 🪞

user: return of shiesty

user: YEAH BABYYYY

evie

liked by bengals, lahjay10_, and 810,003 others

evie: volume 4. 🤍🧡🖤

view all 2,761 comments…

user: you’re special

user: do you ever get sick of having to pretend to be interested in football?

> evie: never pretending.

user: he needs a tall blonde that has a brain.

> evie: my masters in marketing is offended.

user: i’m so excited to see the team smash it this year!

joeyb_9: very big fan of this.

> evie: your sunnies really tie it together.

> user: not you sharing sunnies. 😭

user: i love ev truly, but im also jealous of her.

> evie: i’m not sure what to say here. 🤣💗

joeyb_9

liked by evie, bengals, and 789,524 others

joeyb_9: Mask off.

view all 2,751 comments…

user: clothes off

> evie: the clothes will stay on. (for now) 🤪

user: Burrow is back!

user: solid W

evie: put the mask back on, i can’t think straight.

> joeyb_9: keep it on all night?

> user: i wish i could unsee this

> user: joe. please. this has to stop.

user: i’ll never quit you.

evie’s instagram stories:

a/n: hiiii. i’m going to finish this series up in the next post so i can work on some of the other requests i have. if you guys are interested in me continuing it once the new season starts let me know and i’ll see what i can do. thanks for all the love on this, you guys rock. and as always im taking request so if you have an idea i’d love to hear it.