#spring at belgraves

[satureja13]

The Greenhouse at Belgraves Institute 🌿

I already showed a glimpse of it in this post (with the mice 🐁 ;)

The Greenhouse Haven Kit came just at the right time. There's a lot EA did/does wrong with the Sims 4, but this kit appeased me a lot 🍵

I'm in awe with the swatches of the seed pots. As if the plants were really growing. Even different kinds 🌱

From the Beginning   ~  Underwater Love   ~  Latest

[bluenpjm]

diamond of the first water ♛ kth x oc

© singguks × bluenpjm × socksjinie | all rights reserved. do not repost, translate or claim as your own.

synopsis. The search for true love is a hazardous quest, indeed. Could such a gracious sentiment be the reason for the appearance of the Duke of Elffire? Certainly, all the Mamas of London will have an eye out on the most eligible bachelor of the season.

genre. bridgerton au ㆍ regency au ㆍ angst ㆍ smut ㆍ fluff

pairing. taehyung x oc ft. bts x oc’s

rating. M

wordcount. 5.5K

warnings. some foul language, fights, tension, and jungkook being cranky most of the time.

a/n.  zoë, lily and i have been wanting to write a bridgerton au for months now!! and we found that today was the best way to cross (yet another) au from the list. so, to my other half, my lovely @taespocket. i will forever have you in my life so you can keep me calm and collected. happy birthday sunshine ♡

♛ 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ― one ; two

Dearest reader, 

As the season opens, it seems only fitting that one would stay alert. The most prestigious families are exhilarated with the possibility of their oldest being declared the diamond of the season. I can’t help but wonder if this year, the Queen’s senses will be sharpened enough. After all, what happened to the Belgraves after their oldest was found bilk with a married man was a shame… Wasn’t it?

As such, it does not do to dwell on past mistakes, as now all attention must fall on the arrival of the Duke of Elffire — isn’t he the most eligible bachelor? I wonder if anyone will be able to catch his attention and infiltrate his cold heart. All say that the warmth of spring is the best to melt the ice from the winter. One can only dwell so much on why the Duke acts in such a way. 

After Lord Bridgerton’s marriage festivities and, of course, the successful pairing of his sister Daphne in the previous year, one can only expect to see how his cousin, Lord Middleton, will do, as his sister, Eleanor, comes of age and is most certain to be a debutant. I’m certain one would love to know more about this family, as the Bridgertons have had such a perfect record… Does it run in the family, or will the Middletons fall from grace and present us with a thrilling time?

Let us wait, as I will return to you with nothing but the truth of what goes on in the Ton.

Yours truly, 

Lady Birdwhistle.

“Honora,” Jungkook’s stern voice sounded across the room, making the youngest of the Middleton family lift her fingers from the piano tiles, abruptly interrupting the song she was playing. “Go check on your sister. It’s taking ages.” 

Her eyes lifted slowly from the instrument and traveled across the room to where her brother was sitting. Before she could even open her mouth, he had already raised his eyebrows at the not-so-subtle roll of her eyes. “Now, brother… As you see, I am rather busy. As for you, you’re merely sitting. Get up and go check on our sister.” 

Jimin and Hoseok’s laughter fills the room, noticing Junkook’s glare on the youngest of the Middletons and how careless she continued playing, now a more upbeat tune, making the mocking of her brother complete. “What are you two bozos laughing at?” 

“Aren’t you in luck that you’re the head of the house, brother?” Hoseok teased, exchanging looks between his brothers. As the middle children, with only a year separating them, they are closer than anyone else in the family. 

“I can only imagine Jungkook being easily dominated by his wife.” Jimin joins, hitting Hoseok’s leg as he falls deep in laughter. 

“Perhaps we should present you two as bachelors for this year’s season.” Jungkook got up, adjusting the vest he had. “Mother!” 

“Hey, hey!” Hoseok was quick to get up, following after the head of the house. 

“It does sound brilliant, doesn’t it, brother?” Jungkook continued, now leaving the living room at a fast pace. “After all, you have been spending an awful lot of time on those art things of yours. I believe it would–” 

Jungkook is rendered speechless as he comes face to face with his sister, Eleanor, gracefully coming down the stairs. Her hands, covered with lacy white gloves barely touched the stair’s handrail as one pinched the long fabric of the blue dress she wore that contrasted with her pale skin perfectly. Her hair, in a bun plaint, fought to escape, some strawberry-golden locks already celebrating their freedom as they smoothly swayed. 

“Sister,” Hoseok steps forward, his features soft as his eyes smile but his mouth is somewhat agape.

“What are you two fighting over?” The smile on her lips made it known that she was used — or better, expecting — her brothers' antiques. A peaceful day at the Middleton residence was rare.

“Hoseok was pondering about being a bachelor for this season.” Swinging his arm around his brother’s shoulders, Jungkook gives his sister a big smile that she decoded as splattered with mischief. 

“Is that so?” Eleanor laughs. 

“Jungkook, you should follow your brother’s lead. After all, you are the oldest and should be the one giving the example.” Their mother, Grace, speaks.

With a long sigh, Jungkook rubs his temples. “Mother…” 

The matriarch of the home ignores her oldest son, hands tightly wrapped around one another behind her back as she strolls into the living room, her children following her shut. 

“Are you all still sitting? Goodness, have you all lost notion of time?” Eleanor teases her siblings, hands on her hips as if she were the one waiting for them to be ready. The bag around her wrist was small, with a pearly white color, matching her entire outfit.

“El, you look stunning!” Jimin jumps to his sister’s side, hand finding hers and lifting it up, making the girl twirl. “There will be suitors rounding Grosvenor Square for weeks and weeks on end.” 

“Thank you,” Bowing slightly, Eleanor laughs. “And hopefully so! I intend to marry on my very first season.”

“Not that your worth is valued in the number of men that court you, sister,” Honora leaves her seat by the piano. “But I do agree with Jimin. You look magnificent.” 

“Alright, shall we go?” Jungkook abruptly ends the hug between the two sisters. The way his hand falls on his hips makes everyone in the room know that his patience is running low. 

“At once, brother. With such a serious look on your face, all ladies will run from you, not to you.” Jimin pats his back, leading the way towards the entrance of their home, where carriages awaited their departure. 

“I shall keep it then.” 

Not many had the privilege of seeing Queen Charlotte’s humble abodes. In reality, only those in the Ton — the high society, aristocrats, and gentry — had the opportunity to muse with the various invitations to the royal parties. 

After all, the Queen is the most elegant hostess. 

As carriages began to fill the palace’s entryway, even some of the adventuresses of the Town joined. Greeted by the royal guards, the path to follow was clear; a quick walk through the so-esteemed rose gardens and all the way up to the ballroom. Petals guided the way to guests, champagne glasses being offered as they escorted themselves to the presence of the Queen. Even the finest of families were admired at the care with which Queen Charlotte had prepared this year’s opening of the season. 

Perhaps — some summoned the courage to assume as they marched closer to the center of the event — the returning of Lady Birdwhistle had awakened something in the Queen. Something that, for many years, had been dormant. 

Lady Birdwhistle seemed to be the successor of Lady Whistledown — that had tormented the Queen and her Ton. But much more important than that, they had tried to damage her reputation, shedding light on the most controversial rumors (that very little had of fabrication) and were constantly questioning every step given by the royal. 

Of course, others were witty to determine that the new mystery author — a copycat, by the words shared by the Queen to ones closest to her — was never in the presence of Her Royal Highness, had it needed to be someone completely mad to have the gallantry to provoke the head of the Country. 

And the talk amongst the high society was that this year, the Queen was determined to find whoever the filthy creature that had dared to comment so nonchalantly over her past decisions was. As the successor of Lady Whistledown or not, Lady Birdwhistle was certain to pay for all that had been said. Of course, their fate was still uncertain, at the moment, as the Queen secretly was often mixed between disgust and admiration for the audacity of the upcoming writer. 

As the Queen’s arrival into the ballroom is announced, maids finish the last details — a mesh of her wig that wasn’t perfectly curled and the smallest wrinkle in the great gown she wore. 

The crowd applauds her arrival. The image of the Queen is seen with marvel in the eyes of her people. 

The sapphire crown she wears around her wig sets the tone of her entire attire and of what she expects to see amongst the Ton. 

Finally sitting on her throne, Queen Charlotte lifts her hand up in the air, signaling she had enough flattery for the moment. The ladies by her sides are considered her closest friends — despite the Queen not trusting them with her secrets, recurring to them instead for the latest gossip. Their attires match the gown of the Queen, dark shades of blue manifesting beside the throne, like background. 

“Let us begin, shall we?” 

And as the words fell out of the royal’s mouth, everyone went silent. 

“If only the Queen were apt to go to war, all would be well.” The oldest of the Cromwells spoke into Honora’s ear, a giggle leaving the lips of the latter. 

“One could only truly imagine.” 

Sarah, much like Honora, was rebellious toward the traditions of the society she lived in. Not that she hated men and the fate that she was destined to live — in fact, she already had an eye out for one eligible bachelor. But she did find that this courtesy made to the Queen was excessive. And a little bit humorous.

“I assume that by you being here you’re not going to present yourself to the Queen?” Honora asked. As the oldest of her household and as Sarah had just gotten of age, it sounded a bit mad for her to miss this opportunity. Even to Honora. 

“Of course not.” Confidently, the blonde clarifies. “I am not an object to be presented. And if I have to be completely honest, I just couldn’t help but appreciate the fuss it caused home.” 

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you.” Only a couple of years apart, the two girls had grown to be inseparable, both relishing in literature and their views of society as if they shared the same brain. 

Remaining situated on her throne, the Queen judges every lady called into the room as names keep on getting announced. The silence that once filled the room is replaced by the loud murmuring of the Ton. A head not held high, a back too curved, or a dress not flattering enough was reason to get ascribed as not worthy of any man in the Queen’s eyes — or as Birdwhistle voiced, unworthy of being the Diamond of the season.

“Lady Candice, presented by her mother, the Right Honored Lady Campbell.” 

The ballroom was filled by the families of the ladies presenting themselves and some other curious eyes, while the eager candidates awaited outside for their names to be called. 

Eleanor grew more and more concerned at the sight of the various reactions of the candidates that returned to the room she was in. Some came back crying, the blush in their cheeks defeated by the tears that rolled down their cheeks. In contrast, others spoke passionately and proudly about the Queen’s reactions. 

“I can’t feel my fingertips,” Eleanor whispered in her mother’s ear as the girl called, Candice, came back with teary eyes, her mother trying to catch up to her as she fled from the scene.

“Don’t be foolish now, dear. You look splendid– you are splendid.” Hand carefully fixing the tiara she wore in her head, Grace, the matriarch of the Middleton household, spoke. 

“Focus ahead and avoid the Queen’s stare.” A girl spoke to Eleanor, a soft smile adorning her features. “My sister told me to do exactly that.” 

“Thank you, Hani.” Eleanor offered the girl a smile but it was weaker than she had intended. 

A circle of compassion was quick to form around Eleanor, as the anxious feeling grew more on her chest. In reality, the kind words flying from the lips of the girls around her were making her feel worse, rather than the intended opposite. She wanted to shoo them all away and have a minute to compose herself but she knew it would look bad to act in such a way. Even so, she was about to be called in.

“Is all of this really necessary? Or are you all hypocrites that like to pretend we’re not all here for the same reason?” The voice of Dalia scoffing broke the circle and had it been any other voice, Eleanor could’ve breathed in relief. 

Dalia lived right next door to the Middletons with her mother. An only child. After her father left town to be with another woman (or as they told, passed away in a boating accident), her mother shielded Dalia from all the talk of the Town. She became unbearable. 

Being the same age as Eleanor, they used to arrange play dates daily. Honora was still a baby at the time. But the friendship faded as they grew older. With Dalia, it was her this and her that. She was always the most beautiful; the most educated; the most graceful; the richest; the best. And her narcissism was quick to make her lonely, and intolerable to her peers. Her only real asset was her family’s position in society as the escape of the man of the house had left both ladies well in life, a tantalizing allowance being established in exchange for silence and freedom.

“There is no room for ugly ducklings, darling. I would suggest going home. Or better yet, paying close attention now,” The sarcastic smile on the girl’s face made Eleanor roll her eyes. “I intend on dazing the Queen.” 

“Try to not break a leg, Dalia.” Barking back, Eleanor sighs right after. Only Dalia was able to befoul with her emotions at such an important moment in her life.

“Lady Dalia, presented by her mother, Lady Emilia Fitzroy.” 

The dazed look on the royal secretary as he calls the lady’s name is noticeable and those in the room can tell that the Queen's expectations were not being met, as she had grown more impatient with each presentation. 

Dalia walks into the room, head held high as her mother follows suit, hands holding the excess fabric of the dress she wore. 

“Your Majesty,” Bowing slightly, Dalia never takes her eyes off the Queen. 

For a moment the room goes quiet, as the debutant holds her position in expectancy of hearing her Queen's voice. And so, gasps are heard when the Queen lifts herself from her throne. She hadn't done such a thing for any of the other ladies that had presented themselves to her. A smile to another debutant, perhaps. 

“Beautiful posture.” The Queen compliments before returning to her seat, the many ladies by her side struggling to fix her dress in the small gap before Her Majesty could sit.

“Thank yo–” Dalia begins to speak but is abruptly interrupted. 

“Off you go now.”

Bowing yet another time, she turns, back facing the Queen and her ladies. And as she begins to walk, her dress comes apart, only the sound of the ripping fabric silencing once again the murmuring audience. 

Cheeks turning another shade of pink, Dalia glares at her mother, as she whines through gritted teeth. “Mommy,” 

“Move along.” Her mother ushers her out of the room, a forced smile on her features as she side-eyes the audience, but not quick enough that some remarks about her status are still heard. 

“Hadn’t she mentioned that she got her dress from a Parisian designer?” 

“What a misfortune for the most fortunate family of the Ton.” 

“Clearly, she didn’t visit Miss Kim's boutique,” Sarah comments to her friend, an amused expression on her features. Not wanting to be cruel, she would never keep the pleasure of relishing over Dalia's misery, as herself had also once been the target of the debutant’s woe.

“Nari refused to dress her, can y’ believe?” Hoseok whispered between the girls, only to be flustered by his own comment as inquisitive eyes fall on him. “Miss Kim, I mean. The modiste.”

“Of course, brother, the modiste.” Honora teases, watching as Hoseok distances himself and into the comfort of his brothers’ company. 

Pondering hard over her next move, Eleanor mentally apologizes to her mother, knowing how displeased she will be with her behavior. Once arriving home, she would find a way to appease her mother for the scene. Stepping closer to the lady in distress, she walks with her. 

“Step one: look pretty. Done.” 

With her hand lifted, the debutant acts as if there were a notebook. 

“Step two: get praised. Almost done.” 

Dalia stops on her heels, now looking straight into Eleanor’s eyes. The height difference makes the praised debutant look down on the teaser. 

“Step three: make a fool of myself…” Hissing, Eleanor gives her rival her best innocent look. “I’ll make an effort to skip that part.” 

Baffled, Dalia opens and closes her mouth, yet again embarrassed by how every lady in the room now had her eyes on her, their features with a comical curiosity displayed. Rarely feeling such a way, her hands travel to her dress, doing her best to hide the catastrophe that had gone down in her attire.

“Eleanor, that is quite enough.” Grace grabs her daughter by the wrist, pulling her back into line as Dalia’s mother begins to pull hers in the opposite direction, towards the exit. 

“Actually mother,” The ruin-dressed girl begins, recomposed. “I would love to see how Eleanor’s presentation goes. Let us stay a little longer.” 

The Fitzroys find a place by the doors that lead to the ballroom. Other than this new found-curiosity for watching Eleanor’s performance, Dalia is blinded by the need to assert no one is complimented as nicely as she was. Despite the final gaffe, she knows that the title of Diamond is hers.

It had always meant a great deal to be praised by the Queen. A line of suitors was certain to follow such compliment and only a disaster would ruin the chances of a debutant not marrying in her first season.

Two more girls go in. 

The last, Dorothea, faints as soon as she reaches close enough to the Queen, hadn’t the miss eaten a thing in the last three days, surviving solely on water so she could fit her attire and look perfect for her debut. Her Royal Highness’s closest friends fall into laughter, being silenced immediately after. 

Signaling for the royal guards to move the weak debutant out of the way, the Queen frowns, her head being supported by her hand, elbow resting on the arms of her throne. “What a boring day, indeed.” As if commenting to herself, the Queen lets out a whisper. Despite her humdrum expression, the thought of Lady Birdwhistle crosses her mind, the harsh words that the ghostwriter will write about the opening of the season she planned almost palpable. 

“Lady Eleanor, presented by her mother, the Right Honorable Lady Middleton.” 

The words of the royal secretary sound muffled behind the closed doors adorned with gold specs that reach all the way up to the ceiling. Eleanor can only feel her heartbeat, her senses numbed by the anxiety she had been feeling ever since stepping foot out of the number 17th of Grosvenor Square. 

The doors swing open, as the royal guards have had the consent of the Queen to see the debutant. Eleanor catches the curious eye of Her Majesty, that meets her with a smirk at the end of the room, immediately charmed by the color of the dress the Middleton miss was wearing. 

“What was it that you said to me, Eleanor? Try not to break a leg?” 

The whisper made by Dalia is ignored, as Eleanor smiles widely, preparing to walk with confidence. From the corner of her eye, she spots her siblings, Jungkook, Hoseok, and Jimin, as well as her youngest sister, Honora with her loyal friend Sarah right by her side. Her smile now changes into a calmer one, resting assured that even if the Queen isn’t impressed by her, her family was there to support her. 

With Lady Grace right by Eleanor’s side, Dalia sees the opportunity she so long had been waiting for. The chance to humiliate yet again Eleanor, as payback for the teasing she had done to her only minutes ago. 

The Queen arranges her posture in her chair, eyebrow lifted as she grows eager to see the debutant closer. 

And that is all the motivation Dalia needed. No one was going to steal her title. Especially not Eleanor.

With Eleanor’s dress tail passing right by Dalia, her foot comes in contact with it, securing it hardly. The sudden halt in her flowy movement makes the debutant lose balance from the heels she was wearing and Dalia sees the perfect moment to release the fabric, ending with her rival on the floor. 

“Oh, for goodness sake.” The Queen is quicker than anyone to react as gasps are heard across the crowd at the unexpected fall. 

Filled with embarrassment, Eleanor gets up, eyes incapable of meeting the Queen’s nor of anyone in the room as she bows to the royal before leaving with haste. As she walks past Dalia, her voice sounds muffled by the ringing in her ears, the fleeing debutant being too heartbroken to care. 

Jungkook is quick to act, pushing past the crowd and rushing after his sister. 

“Mother,” Honora is by her matriarch in a heartbeat, eyes wide and trembling from the strong squeeze she felt in her chest. 

“Let us go, Honora.” 

And as the family flees to what they consider to be the safety of their home, the party at the Queen’s abode remains, now the murmuring regarding the Middletons discernibly loud. 

Grosvenor Square had never been so quiet. 

On the 17th, the mood is ominous. Much like he had been hours prior, Jungkook sits in his living room. Hoseok is also there, despite not a single word being exchanged between the two. After a couple of minutes go by, Honora joins them. Opening her mouth a couple of times, she fails, uncharacteristically, to find the words for the situation at hand.

The matriarch comes into the hall, a pensive expression on her features. 

“Is Eleanor’s parade over yet?” Jungkook finally speaks, removing the fingers that had been supporting his temple. 

“That’s a little harsh, brother.” Honora stands, arms crossed. Despite the difference in views, Honora and Eleanor always had each other's backs. “Even for you.” 

“Oh please, sister. She’s clearly overreacting.” Mimicking the actions of Honora, Jungkook stands as well. 

“Is that so?” The mother joins the conversation, her features changing into ones that almost look amused. 

And before she can continue, Jungkook carries on. “Of course. Eleanor’s been locked in her chamber for hours now. And the entire house stopped over this childish fantasy of hers.” 

“Perhaps you will find it amusing when tomorrow you will be burned by finding her a husband.” Smiling to the maid that had just served her tea, Grace raves scornfully. 

“Me?” Jungkook scoffs. 

“Of course. You can’t proclaim to be the head of the family just to after zest over the title and influence it has granted you, my dearest son. It’s your duty.”

Scoffing, Jungkook tilts his head slightly to the head, tongue moving through the inside of his cheek. “And it will be thanks to such title and influence that I won’t suffer of a headache over finding Eleanor’s a suitable husband, much like you think.” 

“Goodness, brother, you sound insufferable.” Honora strides off the room, going up the flight of stairs. 

Before she has the chance to knock, the sobs of Eleanor can be heard from the corridor, the door that leads to her older sister’s room being slightly open. Reaching in closer, Jimin comes into view. Sitting on the bed, their sister’s head lies in his lap, as he delicately caresses her hair, now no longer in a bun but running free through the satin sheets of the bed.

“But you don–don’t understand, brother.” Honora is quick to enter the room, thumb finding Eleanor’s cheeks as a tear falls. Giving her a sympathetic smile, she kneels on the floor by their side. “I deserved it.” 

“I know that is nonsense,” Jimin speaks confidently. “You would never deserve such a thing El.” 

“I was a brat.” Eleanor now sits on the bed. “All based on a whim.” 

“What happened?” Honora presses her lips together, fearing her burning question will cause her sister to start sobbing yet again as she had just started soothing down.

Sighing deeply, Eleanor covers her eyes with her hands. “Dalia, she was being a berk. And I was so nervous— and quite honestly, done with her— so I might’ve been a bit rude.” 

“How so?” The youngest presses a little more, now too curious to dare stop.

“I mocked her.” 

“Eleanor—” 

“Better yet even, I humiliated her in front of everyone. Mother even told me to stop.” 

“What did you say?” Jimin was speechless, watching how Eleanor’s face carried sadness mixed with a hint of shame. 

“That she made a fool of herself and that I would be certain not to do the same.” Shrugging, Eleanor gets up from the bed. “Honestly, I am just so tired of her antiques. She’s always so rude to everyone and never—not a soul— lifts a finger and tells her as she deserves.” 

“You already know Dalia gets her way.” 

“That’s the issue at hand, brother.” Sitting on the bed, Eleanor huffs. She was a ball of stress, ready to burst at any second. 

“Eleanor…” 

Honora stars and by the way she drags the name of her sister in her tongue, both of her older siblings know that they want her to stop speaking, as she is about to lecture them on how the society they are trapped in isn’t ideal. 

“You placed so much pressure on yourself, that the thing was bound to turn south. Don’t you agree?” The question is directed to her brother that remains as still as possible, teeth biting his bottom lip.

“Honora.” Eleanor frowns.

“I mean it, sister! And—such festivities are so ridiculous. Not to speak of how humiliating it is to you as a woman!” Speech quick, Honora doesn’t mind the expressions on the faces in front of her. “Your value shouldn’t be measured by how pretty your face is—or your dress. No one should be judging you for it.” 

Laughing drily, Eleanor interrupts. “Sometimes I forget how naive you can be. Of course, people shouldn’t be judging. Much like I shouldn’t have behaved the way I did. But the reality, sister, is that I did. And I did it willingly. Well aware of the consequences that awaited me at home.” 

“Then are you an idiot?” 

“Honora— Eleanor— that is enough.” Jimin intervenes but his voice sounds mute between the discussion going on between the two Middleton girls. 

“No, I am not an idiot. But I enjoy doing as I please. Much like you do when you dress inappropriately at events. Or when, instead of attending your dance classes, you prefer to sneak and go read your books with Sarah Cromwell.” Eleanor takes a deep breath, recomposing herself. “Your view of what society should be is as correct as everyone else. No one cares and it won’t change a thing, Honora.” 

“As long as there are people that think as you do, of course, it won’t.” Crossing her arms, Honora frowns. “I was just trying to say that it isn’t as much of a big deal as you are trying to make it seem.” 

“Yes, El, you will have other opportunities.” Jimin smiles encouragingly. 

“No, I won’t.” Desperate and tired of the conversation, Eleanor raises her voice. “I had this opportunity. Only this one. Now, no one will want to come near me. And I won’t marry in my first season. Hell, I’ll be lucky if I manage to find a husband by the time I’m in my third season.” 

Distressed, Eleanor doesn’t wait for an answer from her siblings, tired of listening and truly not caring about whatever more they had to say to her, she walks straight to the front door. 

Indubitably, the commotion is quick to attract the attention of the prying siblings that wanted to check in on their sister but were too hesitant of making her feel worst. Hoseok and Jungkook are by the front door when Eleanor reaches it and she doesn’t pay them any mind. 

“Sister, where do you think you’re going?” Jungkook crosses his arms over his chest, astounded at Eleanor’s behavior. 

“Are you alright?” Hoseok patters, features filled with concern. 

“Eleanor, are you deaf?” The oldest chips in again. But his oldest sister doesn’t bother to answer and slams the door in their faces. 

The beautiful sunny day that had presented itself for the Queen’s party now had begun to fade, the sun already set on the horizon and the moon shining bright in its place. The cold wind felt like a relief against Eleanor’s cheeks and as she walked, further away from her house, her pace began to slow.

Now feeling calmer, Eleanor let out a puff of air she didn’t realize she was holding. 

“Is your tantrum over?” Stopping in his tracks, Hoseok mimics his sister’s actions, arms crossed over his chest as he too tried to suppress the smile that threatened to escape from his lips.

“Perhaps.” Eleanor relaxes her figure, the smile finally showing.

“So, should we head home?” 

The two speak with a couple of meters between them. At this hour, the streets are calm, but there is still some movement. Hoseok almost feels like there could be a pair of prying eyes in one of the many houses they had passed by in Grosvenor Square. 

“Could we stroll around the block?” Knowing she’s undeserving of such grace from her brother, Eleanor’s eyes fall to the ground. “Just for a little longer.” 

“Let us do it then!” Hoseok is cheerful as they resume their stroll, Eleanor walking backward as she keeps facing her brother. “As of now, I am pondering on ways you are to repay me for this.” 

“Excuse you?!” Indignation is not felt in the miss' face as she falls into laughter. “Repay you for what, brother? Hadn’t it been me, you would still be stuck home. Now, I would dare say that the night is rather lovely.” 

“I’d say such perspective depends on the company,” Seeing his sister scoff, he lets out a strident laugh. “Now face forward, you’ll hurt yourself.” 

“Not like I haven’t fallen already,” 

And like a premonition, as Eleanor resumes her back-walking she bumps into someone as she turns the corner of the street, quickly losing her balance. Certain to fall, she closes her eyes, embracing herself for the collision that never happens. 

“Are you alright?” The deep voice makes the Middleton debutant open her eyes. As she realizes she’s in the arms of an unknown man, she is quick to recompose herself, fingers playing with her hair as a nervous tic. 

“Forgive me, sir. I was not paying attention.” 

“Worry not– sir?” Eleanor tilts her head at the sudden surprised look on the man’s face.

“Pardon?” 

“Am I seriously to believe you don’t know who I am?” Despite the pretentious undertone, the man looks somewhat amused. 

Eleanor, on the other hand, has her eyebrow arched. “And who would you be, sir?” 

And before the man has the opportunity of answering the confused lady standing in front of him, Hoseok comes into view. As soon as he lays eyes on the man, he opens up a smile that confuses his sister even further. 

“Kim!” 

“Middleton!” With the same enthusiasm, the man opens up his arms, engulfing Hoseok in a small hug. “How have you been?” 

“Alright. Jungkook didn’t mention you would come to town.” 

“Ah yes… I still have to reach out to him.” Nodding, it seems like the man is taking a mental note. “I had some business to attend. I know the season has just opened so I wanted to keep this quiet so I am not drowned by the frenetic mamas.” 

Both men laugh. “Excuse me?” Eleanor glares at them as she had been ignored ever since their conversation started. 

“Oh, of course!” Hoseok scratches the back of his neck. “This is my sister, Eleanor. And this is Taehyung, the Duke of Elffire.” 

Eleanor is caught off guard at the sudden declaration of the title of the man. “Oh… and how do you know my brother–Jungkook?” 

“It’s a pleasure.” Taehyung smiles charmingly, one that widens at the frown that shows on the girl’s face. “We went to university together.” 

“I see.” The way Eleanor presses her lips together, suppressing a smile, makes Hoseok sweat. 

“Well, we won’t keep you any longer.” 

“Your dukeship.” Eleanor eyes the Duke. 

“I’ll see you at the club, Hoseok.” Taehyung’s smile changes into a closed face. “Miss Middleton.” 

Intertwining her arm in her brother, Eleanor begins to walk home and as she takes one last glance at the Duke, she finds him staring. And as he smiles at her, she turns ahead, now trying to focus on anything but the curious thoughts that cloud her mind about her hasty meeting with the Duke of Elffire. 

♛ 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ― chapter two coming soon.

[citycarremovals]

Locations Abbotsford Aberfeldie Albanvale Albert Park Albion Altona Altona Gate Altona Meadows Ardeer Armadale Arthurs Creek Arthurs Seat Ascot Vale Ashburton Ashwood Aspendale Aspendale Gardens Attwood Auburn Avondale Heights Avonsleigh Bacchus Marsh Balaclava Balnarring Balnarring Beach Balwyn Bangholme Banyule Baxter Bayswater Beaconsfield Beaumaris Beenak Belgrave Belgrave Heights Bellfield Bentleigh Berwick Bittern Black Rock Blackburn Blind Bight Bonbeach Boneo Boronia Box Hill Braeside Brandon Park Braybrook Brentford Square Brighton Broadmeadows Brookfield Brooklyn Bulleen Burnley Burnside Burnside Heights Burwood Burwood Heights Cairnlea Calder Park Camberwell Campbellfield Cannons Creek Canterbury Cape Schanck Cardinia Carlton Carnegie Caroline Springs Carrum Carrum Downs Caulfield Caulfield Junction Central Park Chadstone Chadstone Centre Chelsea Chelsea Heights Cheltenham Chirnside Park Clarinda Clayton Clematis Clyde Cocoroc Collingwood Coolaroo Cottles Bridge https://www.citycarremovals.com.au/locations/

[lumoshyperion]

I remember reading that in your new wip where Albus loses his magic, he moves away to another place. Has anything inspired you in describing or chosing the place where he moves to? Please tell me more about the scenery, I always love hearing about that from you 💛

I love you so much for asking this question 😭 I usually create a draft on AO3 a few days before posting a fic, so that I can add author's notes as I'm writing, and I just recently added a bunch of visual references and details about the village Albus moves to. But I think I'll just leave a link to my response to this ask, since it covers everything I meant to cover in the author's notes. I've put it all under a read more because there's just so much:

The village is called Heronswood, which takes its name from a house and gardens in Dromana. The layout and most of the inspiration for the village comes from a town in country Victoria called Daylesford. It's long been associated with healing (due to the local farms and the natural mineral springs) and art (due to its large local artist's community). It's a small village, surrounded by bushland and rolling hills. And at its centre is this gorgeous, crystal clear lake.

I haven't written a scene by the lake yet, but it will be a feature of the fic, mostly because I just loved the sense of calm and wholeness I felt when I stood at the edge of that lake. I can just picture Albus sitting on the pier and painting the scenery, like Anna in When Marnie Was There (思い出のマーニー). There's only really the lake house, a bookstore, and a few houses on the waterfront in Daylesford, but I picture something closer to Australian coastal towns, where the main street is overlooking the water. Hobart, with the Salamanca Market on the main street and Mount Wellington (Kunanyi) in the distance. Or Strahan, which I can't seem to find a good photo of.

Other places that come to mind are Queenstown in Tasmania, nestled in between rolling hills and mountain ranges. Or the villages in the Yarra Valley and the Dandenong Ranges - boutique shops and little cottages, surrounded by dense rainforests and bushlands.

There's a few scenes where Albus takes Scorpius exploring through the forests and gardens around the village. I took a lot of visual cues for them from the locations above, but there's also a few specific places that came to mind. Lavandula Lavender Farm in Daylesford. The Rhododendron Gardens in Olinda. And the hanging wisteria in the Alowyn Gardens in Yarra Glen.

I can't take all of my visual cues from Australian country towns, as they are wholly different to what is described in the fic. The houses and shops aren't built in the right style, and there's no cobblestoned footpaths or sense of old world charm that you would find in villages in the UK, where the fic is actually set. And I could have put the work in to find a specific village to set the scene for the fic, but there's a lot of reasons why I didn't.

When I think about Heronswood, I'm mostly drawing inspiration and a sense of place from... places I've actually been. When I think about the forest in Heronswood, I'm thinking about the forests near the suburb where I grew up. When I think about the village, I'm thinking about Strahan at sunset. I'm thinking about the antiques store in Sorrento or the bookstore in Daylesford. I'm thinking about Sassafras and Olinda and Belgrave and Warburton, and the way they're nestled into the trees like they're a part of them.

I could have done the work and found a village in the UK that fitted my idea of Heronswood, but I just didn't want to. I'm constantly bending over backwards to try and cater to the aesthetics and sensibilities of other countries, particularly the UK and America, but this time I just wanted to take some inspiration from my home? I think it services the story a lot better because the sensations - the feeling of cosiness in the village, and the sense of wonder in the forest - are coming from my own experiences, rather than from a picture I found on Google. And, to be honest, it's painful looking at places I was supposed to visit in 2020 - places I'd dreamed about visiting since I was a kid. It's easy to fall into a torturous rabbit hole of "what might of been" and I just didn't want to do that to myself!

There's also a few films I want to reference as other inspirations! The scenery in the 1993 and 2020 adaptations of The Secret Garden come to mind for the forest scenes. The lake and village in When Marnie Was There (思い出のマーニー) seem like almost perfect representations of Heronswood.

And then there's Bright Star (2009) - which isn't really an inspiration for any of the locations, per-say, but I'd still like to mention it here because it's just the most beautiful, timeless film. Jane Campion effortlessly communicates the vulnerability and frailty of Keats' writing. The film itself is like a poem about the wonders of nature and the delicacy of yearning. I'd love for this fic to express the inexpressible in the way that Bright Star does.

"For myself I know not how to express my devotion to so fair a form: I want a brighter word than bright, a fairer word than fair. I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain."

Thank you again for asking this question, you're my favourite 😭💙

[pyrrhesia]

FF14 Write - ‘Illustrious’ (D26)

In which Ysabet Sable watches the sun set.

Severine de Belgrave rested her old bones by the fire, sinking into an armchair with a long, satisfied sigh. Not for the first time, she thanked Halone for her good health. Though perhaps she ought to thank good living. She'd seen other knights go quickly to seed, and now could hear their backs crack and knees explode from malms off. Severine's fighting days were long past, but she kept as spry as she could. Got mountain air by the lungful, didn't drink as much as she once had. After all, there felt so much to do. One of the most coveted trainers in Ishgard, a proud and feared matriarch of what was now a flourishing House, and through it all she did her best to be a good wife. Yet, here and now, she had her house all to herself. As the rain pattered off the roof overhead, she leaned back in her chair and remembered... Fearful days of fire and suffering, they had been. Yet through it all, a disparate band of misfits and outcasts followed falling stars and risen gods, bound together. Shining steel cut through the encroaching dark. She had been a hero, once.

Severine jolted awake to the sound of a rapping at her door. It was insistent, which given the rain had only intensified was only natural. Severine rose to her feet with a grunt, unbowed by age, her poise the picture of dignity, her hand lingering on the hilt of the dagger at her belt the model of prudence. Yet when she opened the door, she relaxed. Two drenched flaxen ears drooped from holes cut into a hooded cloak sodden with rain. Keen violet eyes peered out from over the top of the high-drawn mantle. "Ser Severine," she said, voice muffled. The elezen gave a smile, scant warning before closing the distance and embracing the viera in a tight hug. "It's been too long, Ysabet." When the viera was done pretending to look affronted, she trudged inside, divesting herself of her cloak. All that had changed in the years was... was... ? No. Nothing. The softly sweeping curves of her face remained unlined, the softly sweeping curves of her figure unchanged. She moved with the same grace and purpose as she always had, and not even her voice felt at all worn by the decades. She even favoured the same cool greens, not quite the shades of a forest. Ysabet had been doing well for herself, but in the distance. Her shadow had been felt, mostly because she had taken it upon herself to write and publish the exhaustive Annals of the Scions' deeds. While Ysabet used words like a Garlean general used auxiliary infantry, her concussive prose had a strangely melodic quality to it, and certainly none could doubt her authenticity or her scrupulous adherence to the truth. The last man who had tried had been confronted mid-lecture at swordpoint. Besides that, she'd just sort of... well, Severine had trusted that she'd been doing something. She wasn't the sort to sit idle. They'd never spoken especially much, back then. It was only when swords were sheathed and their task concluded that they truly began to realise, all of them, that they had achieved something truly monumental between them. That there was a shared experience nothing else in their lives could possibly match. A feeling Severine couldn't even share with her wife... "You look well," she said, diplomatically. "I always do. The alternative doesn't bear thinking about." Ysabet dug around in a satchel that clinked with promise. "You, also. Sincerely. Some of the others, I barely recognise, but you are still the spitting image of... yourself. Ah!" She pulled out a fine crystal bottle of breathtakingly expensive wine, and proffered it bottom-first in the time-honoured fashion of the amateur sommelier. "I thought we'd talk. Perhaps of old times. Perhaps of new." Severine took up the bottle, having to squint rather more than she'd like at the label. "Ah, all the way from La Noscea. It's a beautiful vintage. You did not need to bribe me to have a place by my fire, you know. But I appreciate it all the same." "I was in the area. I often am. The place still has its hooks in me, I think." She pulled something else out of the satchel, too. A notebook, slim by her standards, and a fine feather quill ensorcelled to ever be wet with ink. Some twenty years ago, Ysabet had decided she'd spilled her final inkwell on her priceless primary records. "Ishgard, not so much." "Take a seat by the fireplace." Severine gestured the way, waiting magnanimously for her guest to take the first seat as she weaved past and took a couple of wine-glasses before letting herself fall into place opposite. "Truth be told, I'd... well, I had expected you to come, sooner or later." "Ah?" Severine cracked her knuckles against her jaw, resting her head and regarding Ysabet with a knowing little smile. "Some of us do still correspond, you know. It's not been a secret you've been dropping in unannounced, of late. Asking after us, after our lives. Like you're eager to underline our entries in your little books, no?" To Severine's surprise, Ysabet looked genuinely hurt. She could be - she had been - so cold, so detached, and yet... "You make it sound so... clerkly." "I know," on some level, Severine didn't add, "it reflects you care deeply. That is what it's about, isn't it? Making certain all is accounted for, before we're... no longer able to contribute." "Am I so transparent?" Ysabet looked aside to the fire, lip curling in something like disgust. "I suppose I am something akin to a vulture, these days. You cannot be glad to see my circling." "No, I am." "You have only my word I care for you, that this is the ultimate symbol of that care. My records will outlive us both, Severine. The entire point of my writing them was to ensure the truth about us all stood, unopposed, through the centuries." Severine poured out the wine, reaching over to hand Ysabet's to her. "Rest assured, I have no intention of dying anyday soon. I'd have you stay, and we can talk without such pressures overhead." "We'll have as much time as we need, eh? Well... perhaps. Yet we are here now." Ysabet sipped her wine, but seemed far away in thought. "The last was Cwenthryth Sadler. I had been... occupied, elsewhere. By the time I arrived, I found her bound to her deathbed." Severine... vaguely remembered her. The muscular Ul'dahn who had returned to her Ala Mhigan roots in arms, but stayed true to the cause, to the end. "I knew little of her. She spoke little." Ysabet snorted. "And I once thought there was little to know. Perhaps, in a sense, there was. Certainly no shortage of women like her. Yet how many went on to slay Gods?" She sighed, considering her words carefully. "Yet, her strength - nor the strength of any of us - was not the most remarkable thing, I think." "... So you'll tell me what was?" "When it was all over, she simply set down her bow and lived peacefully." Ysabet looked back up at Severine. "The rest of her days. The finest archer I'd seen! With a voice as clear as spring-water. People would have flocked to hear her sing, but nobody could ever make her. And now, nobody ever..." Ysabet bit her lip, hard, and looked away at the fire. Something dripped onto the cover of her journal. "But she was happy?" Severine prompted. "I think so." Ysabet's voice was small. "She loved Aislona, I know. Nobody wanted anything more from her, and I am not sure she wanted anything more from the world. But... I should have liked to have seen it myself, I think. It always felt like the time would be right. And yet, it never truly came. I have to force myself to remember any urgency. The years drift by. And at first, ten, twenty years... it seemed as though I would have forever." "You will." Severine tried not to sound bitter. "Or may as well." "Hmph." Ysabet forced a brave little smile. "Not with you. It... took too long to realise, it was the world that could wait. And... I know, I know it is the most selfish of complaints. That I remain young while my companions wither and die! O, poor me! Yet it has been so hard, watching, helpless, holding a love that only grows stronger, as..." After a time, Severine hauled herself up from her seat and offered her arms around Ysabet's silently tremoring shoulders. They remained there in silence for a while, as the rain came down. Finally, Ysabet pulled herself free, swallowed hard, and leafed to a new, dry page of her journal. "Tell me, Severine. Tell me of your life."

And someday, when all lay to rest, a student would pick up a dense book - a copy set in type, passing through a dozen hands - and leaf through the pages of near-forgotten heroes until landing on one at random. Ever faithful to the true ideals of knighthood, if not the trappings of noble conduct, Ser Severine de Belgrave proved to all she was no disgrace to her family's crest...

[nerdgenie]

Vermish musings - part 2

Here's the second part of my not quite a fic but close enough? Part 1

They ended up talking all night. They talked about everything and anything while carefully navigating away from discussing anything that had to do with their relationship. They both didn't realize they stayed the entire night until the first rays of sunlight started trickling in through the window. To Hamish’s surprise, Vera agreed to get coffee with him in a cafe just outside campus. After their coffee, they eventually parted ways to go home and change before starting their day.

Vera's talking to him again -- like really talking, not brushing him off whenever he offers to help or giving him polite responses, Hamish observes. Okay, so Vera had never been very good at allowing people to help her. He has no doubt Vera can take on the world by herself, hell, she’s been doing it all this time, but that doesn’t mean she has too.  And he’d finally gotten through to her, but after she broke things off, she started closing herself off again. Vera doesn’t have any feelings for him. There’s a still a knife cutting through his heart because of that, one he suspects will never go away, and he can’t do anything about that. That, however, doesn’t mean he can’t be there for her as a friend. She deserves to have someone to help carry the heavy load she seems to always put on herself. He still wants to be that person, so it makes him extremely happy that she’s allowing him to do that again. She's finally giving him assignments and consulting him on different matters. It's a small victory, but he'll take it.

"Why is Hamish grinning like a drunk cat?" Lilith asks Jack. "Vera's asked him to help her with a research project this weekend." "She finally took pity on him then," Lilith snorted. "Let's hope so. I don't know how much longer I can take his moping."

Asking Hamish to help her with her research was a terrible idea. Most of the books they needed were at home. She'd taken them there before she even thought about asking Hamish for help because she knew the work would take all weekend, and she didn't want to be stuck in the temple. If she's working all weekend, she might as well do it comfortably at home. Then like the stupid idiot she is, she told Hamish about it. Hamish always drops by the temple after his classes are done, and she always sends him home. She knows he doesn’t want her to feel like she can’t rely on him for work anymore. She appreciates it, but she can handle the workload load. She’s not going to impose on the time he should be spending with his girlfriend. If she's being honest though, she’d admit that it just hurts too much to be around him and not be with him. But after that night, she's still a little worried about him and why he almost relapsed. She's not his sponsor, it's none of her business if Hamish doesn’t want to share his problems with her, and he did seem better, happy even, when they parted ways in the morning. She listed all the things why she doesn't have to worry about him, but she can't seem to get her brain to work where Hamish is concerned. She started asking him to help out with Order business again, so she can be there for him in case he needs it. Again, if she's being honest with herself, she'd also admit it that after spending a night talking with Hamish, she doesn't really know if she has it in her to stay away again. Cutting him off from her life was harder than she expected, and she really can't do it again. Which leads her to her predicament now. She said yes to Hamish's offer to help with the research before she remembered she's all set up at home. It's impossible to move everything back to the temple, so she basically invited Hamish to spend the weekend at home with her. Why does she get incredibly stupid around that man, she berates herself.

Hamish was surprised when Vera accepted his offer to help. He was even more surprised when she told him they’re working at home. She explained she's set up there, and it's too much work to move everything back to the temple. It makes complete sense, but it doesn't stop Hamish from being excited. He hasn't been back home, her house he corrects himself, since they broke things off, and he just wants it back. It's only for the weekend and only for work, but he can't bring himself to care. Spending the weekend with Vera in their home is all he wants, and thinking beyond that is too devastating so he refuses to do it.

Hamish showed up with coffee and breakfast at 7 in the morning. "Sorry, I know you like to sleep in, but with the work we need to do, I thought we'd get an early start." Hamish successfully got his mouth to work. He almost choked when Vera opened the door wearing his shirt and sleep shorts. It's nothing risque, nothing he's never seen before, but this is Vera without her armour. This is his Vera -- no makeup, hair still a mess from bed and in his shirt instead of business wear. He wants her so badly, but that's not what she wants, so he ignores the overwhelming pain in his chest.

"You're lucky you brought coffee and food. Can you set it up in the kitchen. I just need to change." She wasn't fully awake when she opened the door so she didn't immediately remember she's wearing his shirt when she opened the door. Hamish didn't comment on it because he really is a wonderful human being and doesn't want to embarrass her. She took a quick shower and put on yoga pants and hoodie. Her hair was still a little wet so she put it up in a bun and decided against makeup. Her skin needs to breathe. She had a hard week, and having Hamish at home is already frying her nerves, she just wants to be comfortable, okay? She doesn't need to obsess about her looks, too.

Hamish is navigating the kitchen like he belongs there. He used to, she thinks to herself. He's laid out the pastries he brought, but he's also cutting up fruit like he always does for her in the morning. She's very bad at feeding herself, and Hamish has taken on that responsibility. "Eat," he puts a plate in front her before handing her her coffee and sitting across her in his usual spot. If either of them observed they'd fallen back to how they were before, they're not going to examine that closely.

"Okay, I call time out." "Hamish, we've barely scratched the surface with this thing. There's still so much to go through." "Vera, it's 4 in the afternoon. I can't see straight anymore, and we haven't eaten anything since breakfast." Vera started to open her mouth with a reply when Hamish cut her off, "no, coffee does not count. Come on. Let's sit outside for a bit and get some fresh air. I'll order us some lunch." "Fine, but don't blame me if this takes all weekend." "Wouldn't want to be anywhere else." "Can you get..." "Pad thai, spring rolls and shrimp, yeah. It will be here in 15."

“I think we should call it a night,” Vera said glancing at the clock. She was surprised to see that it’s already past 11. “What? We’re finally getting somewhere. We can’t stop now.” They’re definitely on a roll. She doesn’t want to stop working as well, but they’ve made more progress together than she initially projected, and she figured she can complete the work on her own. “Hamish, I’ve already taken up your entire Saturday. I can’t thank you enough, but go home. You don’t need to do it.” “Vera, I told you, there’s nowhere I’d rather be. Let me just finish this chapter then I’ll go,” Hamish didn’t want to push her too hard. She’s been more open with him today, and he doesn’t want her retreating if he pushes too hard. “Okay, but I’m going to bed. Lock up when you go.” Vera didn’t think she can handle watching Hamish going home to the person he loves. “Will do.” “Hamish,” she turns back from the door. “Yeah.” “Thank you.” “Goodnight, Vera.”

Did someone break in? It’s 2 in the morning her clock says Vera was woken by the sound of someone stirring downstairs. “Hamish, what are you still doing here. I thought someone broke in.” “Vera, fuck, you startled me. Sorry, did I wake you? I found something...” “...and you just couldn’t leave it alone,” Vera finished for him, “I’ll make some coffee.”

While it was true that Hamish did finally find what they had spend the day looking for, he only managed it because he couldn’t bring himself to leave. The day had been perfect. He had his life with Vera back, and he didn’t want it to end.

They managed to finish everything just as the sun was starting to rise. “We make a great team, don’t we?” Hamish grinned at her. Vera snorted. They both have circles under their eyes, but they’re couldn’t be happier. After the initial satisfaction of a job completed wore off, Hamish started to feel dread set in. Is this it? Is this all he’ll ever get? He doesn’t know exactly where to go from here, but he knows he’s not ready for their time together to end just yet. “Are you hungry. I could make us some breakfast,” he throws a hail Mary.

“You know I love your breakfast, but shouldn’t you be going home to your girlfriend?” “My... what?” Hamish, for the life of him, could not understand why she’d think he has girlfriend. Oh, oh! Did she mean Cassie? It took several seconds before it clicked. Admittedly, he never really told Vera Cassie had left, but he assumed she found out some other way. She does talk to Jack and the other wolves. “Are you talking about Cassie? She left Belgrave 2 months ago,” he told her.

Hamish and Cassie broke up. No wonder he almost relapsed, Vera thinks. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is that why you...? “No! No, that’s not why I almost had a drink. Cassie and I never got back together. There was never anything there when she got back. Of course I’m happy she’s alive and well, but what we had was in the past. I don’t love her that way anymore.” Hamish explained in an almost panicked way. Hamish doesn’t fully understand why, but he can’t allow Vera to misunderstand what happened. He felt the need to tell her the truth -- that the one thing that truly push him to almost go over the edge was the idea of her being with someone else. He managed to get himself to step back, but Vera staying with him that night was what truly gave him the strength to stay sober. It’s not her fault that he can’t stand the idea of her being with someone else. That’s something he needs to work out on his own, but he recognized how Vera had tried to help him that night, as much as she tried to hide it from him. Vera deserves to be appreciated for how she cares about people. People rarely see that, much less thank her for it. He won’t be one of those people who doesn’t appreciate Vera.  He may be on a path to disaster by telling her his feelings, but she needs to know she’s saved him.

Vera’s confused again. “Ohh..” She really can’t form a coherent response just yet, but that didn’t seem to matter because Hamish doesn’t stop talking. “You went on a date,” Hamish stated. “What? Oh yeah... that wasn’t...” she tried to explain. “All I could think about how I could never have our life back. You were moving on from me, and I didn’t know how to handle that -- I still don’t if I’m being honest. But even when I thought I lost you, you were still there. Please don’t freak out. I’m not asking you for anything. I just need you to know that I see you. You care so much... about everyone...”

Hamish’s speech was interrupted by Vera’s lips on his. He still has a lot of feelings he needs to let out, but every single thought has left him. Nothing exists beyond Vera.

They’re both still shaking from their high. Hamish has pulled Vera almost on top of him after they came together -- her for the third time, he can’t help but smugly think. He’s never letting her go. He’ll stay in this bed for the rest of his life. “I love you,”  he looked down at Vera who was currently tracing patterns across his chest. His heart would not allow him to hold it in anymore. “I love you, too.”

Randall: “Has anyone seen Hamish. I haven’t seen him all week.”

Lilith: “He went to Vera’s last weekend. He hasn’t come home since.”

Jack: “Thank fuck. Finally.”

It only too forever, but I can’t leave you guys hanging. Hope you like it. @vlysian @everythingabouthatship @hellishseaqueen @seidling3

[skelligiri]

Obligatory lockdown fic

“Good night, angel.”

Click.

Aziraphale hung up the phone, and, with a hum and a spring in his step, went right back to baking. He had come across a carrot cake recipe in one of the oldest cookbooks in his collection earlier that day and busied himself with weighing Ingredients (the carrots miraculously fell out of the bag finely grated). But no matter how hard he tried to keep his mind focused and to not think of the phone conversation, he couldn’t suppress the desire to pick up the phone again as the night progressed. The print date of the book, which indicated that it had been printed shortly after the Reign of Terror, didn’t help, jolting memories of being locked up in the Bastille and being saved from a violent discorporation by an unlikely friend.

2 days. After that, he wouldn’t hear Crowley’s voice again until July. The angel wasn’t sure why he was even giving it any thought - Crowley had a habit of sleeping for months, years, even decades at a time, and had done so countless times over the millennia.

He just hadn’t spent prolonged periods of time asleep since the aborted Armageddon a year prior, Aziraphale mused. Crowley had mentioned how he couldn’t get himself to cause any havoc because everybody was miserable enough already, which was not surprising – the angel knew that, at heart, Crowley was a decent person. However, when reaching for the cake tin, a thought stopped him in his tracks – Could it be that Crowley was not only bored, but that the misery of the situation had gotten him down? His friend certainly hadn’t sounded happy.

---

Somewhere in central London, a demon swatted aimlessly at his bedside table until he found his ringing phone, sending his designer sunglasses tumbling to the floor in the process. It didn’t concern Crowley; his glasses knew better than to invoke their already cross owner’s wrath by breaking.

“What?” he snapped. “It’s me again. I just wanted to know how you are feeling today.” “Same as yesterday. Same as every day since the lockdown started. Bored. Didn’t forget, did you?” the demon drawled. “No… no, and it does make sense I suppose, there are certainly things I am looking forward to after this whole lockdown business. I wonder how the birds at St. James’ park are doing. If the little cafe on Belgrave Street is still going to be there - it used to be a book shop, you know. Anyway, now that I have a better understanding of the baking process, I do wonder if I will have a newfound appreciation for cake. Not that I ever did not appreciate cake, as I’m sure you are well aware, but the cakes at this particular establishment have always been home baked by the owners, wonderful people. Their children worked some odd jobs there to help pay for their education –“, Aziraphale babbled, unable to contain the flood of words until it was cut off by his friend’s exasperated groan. “Aziraphale. You do know that depriving someone of sleep is a method of torture, right?” Aziraphale blinked in response. “You were asleep already? I thought you were going to wait two days?” “Yeah, but I had a very productive day yesterday. Scared a seedling into growing 2 inches, sat around doing nothing. Started a few arguments on Twitter, although that really wasn’t much of a challenge. Sat around some more. Decided to treat myself to an early nap.” “Ah. Right, um. I really just wanted to know how you were doing. And…”

The angel found himself considering his words for a moment. Even in his head, they sounded a bit silly. Still, the question burned on his tongue.

“Out of curiosity… ever since the events of Armageddon and the… fallout thereof. Have you ever felt a little lonely?” As expected, the question was followed by a cackle on the other end of the line. ‘”Yah, I really miss Hastur. Real hard, not having to put up with the threats and the stench.” He paused. “Don’t tell me you’re starting to miss the ponces up in heaven. Missing Gabriel, are you? Michael?” Aziraphale’s face contorted, and he outright shuddered when Crowley added “Sandalphon?” “Oh heavens no!” he blurted out, ignoring Crowley’s snort. “I don’t miss heaven. The bookshop feels more like home to me than heaven ever did, you know that.” “Well then, let me go on the record saying that I don’t miss Hell either, big shocker I know. Was there anything else?” There was a short silence between them, which Aziraphale found himself unable to fill. “… Angel, I’m going to ask you one more time. Do you want me to come over or not?” Crowley asked. “I… I couldn’t possibly ask that of you.” “Right. Well in that case, I’m going back to sleep.”

Aziraphale fidgeted. There was one more question that needed answering. “W-well, before you go! You… You definitely shouldn’t come here. But, in theory, if I were to find a way to come over to your place…” “…You. Come over here?” “Yes.” “Wha, you gonna get on a bus during a pandemic? I thought setting a bad example and getting too close to people is something you consider demonic activity. Angel, I’m almost impressed.” “Without breaking any rules, of course!” “And how would you go about that, then?” Aziraphale could’ve sworn there was a hint of a smirk in Crowley’s voice. “… Not sure. It’s just hypothetical, really. Anyway, would you mind if I did?” “’Course not, why in the heavens would I mind, not like I haven’t had you over before.” “… Right, right. Well, I won’t keep you any longer. Good night, my dear.”

Click.

----

Not even Aziraphale’s gramophone seemed to be able to drown out the silence of the following days. The angel often found his gaze locked on the black feather he kept next to his recipe books. A keepsake from Crowley. He had passed it off as a meaningless gesture. Aziraphale knew better.

Being honest with himself had never been the angel’s strong suit. But he had gotten better at deciphering what his gut was trying to tell him in the months since the war had been averted. Rather than decades, centuries or even millennia, it now took him a mere fortnight to realize that he couldn’t drown out what he wanted more than anything.

He wanted to be near Crowley. To keep his friend company. They had always had each other to rely on whenever one or more of the horsemen had raised their heads.

But Pestilence posed a very unique challenge, turning the very need for people to reach out to each other during hard times into a potentially deadly risk. He couldn’t just walk out of the bookshop and set a bad example for humans. Maybe he should wait until July, he thought to himself. Sit here, on the couch, where the demon had slept so many times over the years there undoubtedly was a Crowley-shaped indent in the foam, drink tea and eat cake while catching up on his vast collection of books… but after hearing his dearest friend’s voice, this thought suddenly felt so much less appealing. He found himself picking up the phone again, aching to speak to Crowley, but what was he going to say? There was nothing else to say. The time for talking had passed, he realized. Now was the time to act – which was a harrowing thought.

But he should definitely follow the rules of the lockdown, Aziraphale decided, which meant no leaving the house. Not being able to get sick or transmit the disease was beside the point. Laws were there for a reason, after all. But while the laws surrounding the lockdown were not to be broken even by him, not all laws that applied to humanity applied to a celestial being. For one thing, angels weren’t bound by the laws of physics. And just like that, an idea hit Aziraphale as his gaze locked on the phone in his hand.

Crowley had done it before, he had (repeatedly and proudly) bragged to Aziraphale all about how he had outwitted Hastur back before Armageddon’t by travelling through the phone line and trapping the duke of hell on his ansafone. It was one of his favourite stories to relay after a bottle of wine and usually culminated in him thanking the angel for being the sole reason he even kept the ancient eyesore in his flat. If Crowley could do it, Aziraphale reasoned, why couldn’t he? “It might just work…” he mumbled to himself. Hesitating, Aziraphale considered the phone line separating him from his demon. The rules of the lockdown were one thing, but there were other rules to consider. 6000 years of careful consideration, of boundaries, of careful movements so to not spook or even endanger the other. But those times were over now, weren’t they? They were on their own side now, they didn’t need excuses. They were meant to be free. They deserved to be free.

And nothing was stopping them. Not really.

Aziraphale took a long look around his bookshop. He closed his eyes. A thought, a silent prayer, a faint smell of ozone, and just like that, he knew that it would be safe until he returned, whenever that may be. He took a deep breath, braced himself, and without further ado, willed himself to dissolve into particles straight into cyberspace.

Inaudible to anyone but Aziraphale, the phone line for the next fragment of a second was filled with panicked, garbled noises of distress, as a defragmented angel was trying to herd the atoms making up his corporation through a telephone line. He had to admit: Pulling this off without any atoms escaping was brag-worthy. He found himself wondering if bouncing around weightlessly like this was what a rollercoaster felt like. He didn’t much care for it. And he didn’t much care for re-emerging, either, all his atoms snapping back in place like magnets, sending him stumbling aimlessly. All he could do was brace himself for the unavoidable impact.

But luckily for the angel, Crowley’s phone had rolled out of his hand when he’d fallen asleep after their last conversation, on a bed that had to have been touched by a demonic miracle or a dozen to reach such an unnatural level of softness. The yelp that followed Aziraphale’s body hitting Crowley full-force would have usually caused the angel a great deal of concern, but Aziraphale was too occupied with his own spinning vision and trying to figure out where he was and which way was up, limbs flailing, helplessly entangled in black, velvet bedsheets.

“What the FLYING FUCK-“ Crowley yelled, followed by a string of expletives, and Aziraphale realized that the sounds were coming from the floor next to the bed. “Ah – I didn’t mean to - Apologies, my dear.” he offered breathlessly. “Aziraphale?!”

The demon’s upper body emerged from beside the bed, golden eyes wide. “What the heavens - How did - wh-?!”, he stammered, ever so eloquently. Aziraphale scrambled to sit up, tried to brace himself on the wall, missed, and found himself face-first on the bed with a groan. He realized that Crowley must have rushed to his side when he felt himself being propped up by a steadying hold under his arm. That thought was confirmed when he heard Crowley hiss under his breath. The angel held on to his arm for dear life. “I… I’m so sorry to wake you like this. Are you hurt?” “No, just got better acquainted with the floor, thank you very much.” Aziraphale barely managed to lean against the headboard to wait for his vision to stop spinning. “I just. Thought this might be a way of coming over without breaking any rules. I must admit, you made this whole traveling through the telephone line business sound rather a lot easier than it is.”

His vision slowly focused on the demon, who was sitting beside him on the bed, more frazzled looking than the angel had ever seen him. Unkempt, bleary-eyed, and absolutely, stunningly beautiful. With a start, Aziraphale noticed that the plants on the balcony had shifted into unnatural positions. As though they were leaning in to see what all the commotion was about. Crowley took notice and turned around to glare at the plants, which immediately went back to their original positions.

Aziraphale took a steadying breath. “It’s good to see you, my dear.” “Yeah it’s… yeah. Same.” the demon stammered. “I was a little worried about you. You must really be concerned about the humans, to so adamantly refuse to break the rules. Commendable as it is.” Crowley made a face at that last remark. “Rub it in, why don’t you.” “I’m not trying to be flippant, dear. What I’m trying to say is… I’m a little surprised you didn’t come over.” Aziraphale admitted. “I didn’t come over ‘cause you told me not to.” the demon retorted. “That’s never stopped you before. You know as well as I do that I was tempting you.” Crowley blinked at the angel’s blatant honesty. “Angel,” Crowley began, “This is different. I just…” Crowley threw back his head and let out a frustrated groan, “I couldn’t just go on a limb and invite myself to stay over for however many weeks or months it’ll take for Pestilence to get tired of mucking up everyone’s day and to bugger off again, could I? Taking up your space and drinking all your wine. ‘sides, we’re not just talking catching up, but. You know. More than that.” When it became apparent that Aziraphale wanted more, Crowley ran a hand over his face. “Living together for fuck knows how long. Didn’t want to overstep.”

Oh.

“W- well,”, Aziraphale started, a familiar warmth rising up in his face, “I certainly didn’t mean to overstep-“ “You’re not.” “Oh. Good.”

Aziraphale swallowed. The heat in his face remained. “Still… I can make myself scarce, if you like. Go back to the bookshop, if one of us needs space, I’m sure I’ll get used to traveling through the telephone line. But, truth be told, I have missed your company.” He swallowed again, followed by a deep breath. “Rather terribly, actually. In fact, I don’t know how I ever managed to spend as much time apart from you as I used to. Things have been different since the events of last summer, haven’t they? Speaking of, the anniversary of what could have been Armageddon is coming up in three months, hopefully things will be better by then. Maybe the Ritz will have re-opened and we will get a chance to celebrate the world not coming to an end, like we did last year.” When Aziraphale’s eyes met the demon’s, there was no trace of white to be found in them. “Until then, I’d very much like to stay here with you. If you’ll have me.”, he added.

The silence hung over them thickly, every second stretching out endlessly. “… Crowley?” Aziraphale asked tentatively, but the demon appeared to be frozen in place, still holding on to the angel’s arm. By the time Crowley finally opened his mouth, Aziraphale wondered if he had said too much.

“I need a nap.”

Aziraphale blinked. “Beg your pardon? Did you hear what I just said?” “Y- Yeah, and, if you don’t mind, I really need a nap.” “You may feel free to nap all you want, but-“ Aziraphale started, but before he could say anything else, he felt himself gently being pushed back against the headrest, and before he had realized what was happening, Crowley’s face was buried in his shoulder, arms wrapped around the angel’s torso like his life depended on it. Aziraphale quickly snapped out of his bafflement and gave his friend a concerned look. “Are you alright, dear boy?” he asked, and Crowley nodded into his shoulder wordlessly. “… Well, are you still planning on napping until July? I will have to miracle myself some books over if you do.” Crowley shook his head. Aziraphale returned the embrace, one hand gently stroking the demons back, resulting in a small, full-body shudder. Crowley chose not to comment when, emboldened by this reaction, the angel pressed a kiss on the top of his head, but he did make a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sigh of contentment. They had touched more frequently since the events of the year prior, more precisely since the night of the body swap, but it never failed to make their hearts flutter. “Well then, let’s get comfortable, shall we? If we’re in this for the long haul.” He grabbed the cover and draped it over Crowley. And as the arms around his torso squeezed him just a little tighter, he added “We have all the time in the world. The cakes in the kitchen know better than to go stale.”

---

Well, seeing as it’s technically the 30th anniversary of Good Omens  today, I thought I’d try my hand at writing. This is actually my first fanfiction, and I plan to write a bit more often in the future. Hope you like it!

[knightofthecourt]

Love Bites - Chapter 5

Belatrice Gray was a TA at Belgrave University, working hard to stay on top of her marking and trying not to flunk her own studies, when a night out with her bff Randall and his roommates, changed everything.

Hamish Duke x OC fiction with fluff, romance and angst. OC description has been left out to allow for reader personalisation!

The morning after he’d taken her home, Randall appeared at her door with coffee, bagels and a tube of anti-inflammatory gel, which he’d instructed her to apply three times a day to her legs alongside pain killers and bed rest. Bela didn’t need to be told twice - she happily spent the next 24 hours in bed, only moving to visit the bathroom and fetch snacks.

Though she’d slept well in Hamish’s room, she could barely keep her eyes open once she got home.

She still couldn’t remember what had happened, but Randall had assured her that this was a totally normal side-effect of some sedatives, and she’d feel better after sleep.

And he was right. On Sunday morning Bela had woken with a clear head and a spring - well, maybe a hop - in her step. While the rest, cold compresses and pain relief had considerably lessened her discomfort, the bruises had yet to fade. 

With a renewed sense of purpose she took a shower, pulled on her comfiest leggings and fired off a quick text to Randall before heading to the laundry room.   

- - - - - 

 As Bela climbed the stairs to the penthouse hallway she looked around, trying to distract herself from the dull throbbing in her legs. There was no denying that the building was beautiful; lovingly restored exposed brick clad the walls of the stairwell, accented by a highly polished brass bannister, industrial light fittings and a buffed hardwood floor that looked suspiciously like an original feature.

An apartment here must cost more than what Hamish made in a year. Bela was beginning to suspect that the tall blonde had more disposable income than most of the other TAs she knew at Belgrave. 

The only thing that the deluxe block was missing, she thought, was an elevator.

She huffed in relief as she finally came face-to-face with the slick, black penthouse door. She took a moment to catch her breath and then rapped twice. 

After a few minutes a sleepy figure dressed in a casual navy button-down, appeared from behind the door. 

“Bela?” Hamish’s eyebrows arched in surprise as he looked at the woman on his doorstep. “I thought you were resting?… I mean… Hello.” His eyes crinkled slightly as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. 

The corner of Bela’s mouth lifted in a small smile as she raised her eyes to catch his. “I’m fine, promise. Sorry if I woke you, I messaged Randall for your address - I hope that’s ok? I just wanted to say thank you for letting me borrow these.” She held out a stack of freshly-washed clothes towards him. “And for everything else - you know, you kind of saved me”. 

Hamish flushed slightly. “I don’t know about that” he shrugged, “I’m sure you would have done the same for a friend.”

He reached out to grab the bundle, brushing his warm fingers against Bela’s wrist.  

“Ah - right.” Bela pulled her arm back abruptly. She suddenly felt self-conscious. Friend. Of course Hamish was just being polite, as always. Their date plans had been ruined twice now and after the situation the other night he was probably starting to regret asking her out in the first place.

Hamish frowned as a small crease appeared between her brows. 

“Yeah,” she began, “of course. Thanks anyway though, I really appreciate it.” She produced a clear bottle from her bag and thrust it towards him. “Just, as a thank you - taking care of someone isn’t much fun on a night out. Let me know if I can do anything, I owe you a favour now!” 

Hamish barely had time to drop the clothes and grab the vodka before she turned away from the door and bolted down the hallway. He stood frozen for a moment before he rushed after her. By the time he reached Bela she had already travelled down one set of stairs - a surprising distance for someone who was still visibly struggling to move comfortably. 

“Wait! Bels - wait a minute.”

She didn’t stop until his hand closed around her elbow. He wanted to tell her how he felt, how angry and guilty he was that she had been threatened because of him and how glad he was that she was ok - more than glad, but when she spun around her expression caught him off-guard. She lifted her head defiantly, cheeks burning.

His words died under her steady gaze. 

Instead, Hamish raised the bottle. “You can’t expect me to drink this on my own?”

- - - - -

“Liquid Lust” Bela declared with a flourish, handing him a sunset-hued beverage. 

Hamish took a sip and sighed in appreciation “It’s fruity.” He took a second sip, “...and strong”.

Bela grinned. “That’s the tequila. I can’t believe you had hibiscus tea and syrup in your bar, what are the chances?”. 

“A well-stocked bar, is one of life’s essentials.” Hamish smiled back at her from over the rim of his glass. Hours had passed since Bela had turned up at his door. Comfortable conversation over an afternoon drink had morphed gradually into a cocktail-making competition, though Hamish couldn’t say when exactly they’d moved from one to the other, or who was winning.

They’d started with a Cupid’s Arrow, which led to a round of blackberry Potion d’Amours, then on to a pink-tinted Queen of Hearts and finally, the rather interestingly-named, Between the Sheets. Things were starting to get a little blurry around the edges.

Now they were both sprawled across Hamish’s large leather sofa, Bela’s legs outstretched, her feet resting in his lap.

“Your turn.” Bela prompted, waving her empty glass. 

Hamish reluctantly dislodged her and made his way to the open-shelved bar that took up a large portion of the wall in his loft space. He ducked behind the countertop and reappeared after a few minutes with two tall glasses.

“Sex on the Beach.” he said with a wry smile. 

Bela’s eyes widened slightly and then she burst out laughing. “Wait -” she said, setting the glass down on the nearby coffee table before walking to the bar. She emerged moments later with two smaller glasses. “We should drink these first then,” she said with a wink, “best not to rush things”. 

She handed him a smaller glass topped with whipped cream. “It’s a shot.” Hamish felt heat creep up his neck as he recognised the layers of amaretto, coffee liqueur and irish cream. “Yes… a Blow Job shot”. 

Bela snorted. “Take it you’ve had one before then?” 

The sound that came out of Hamish’s throat was something close to a growl. He threw the shot back and chased it with his cocktail. 

“Bottoms up,” he gestured to her to finish her drinks before heading back to the bar. 

Two can play at this game, he thought darkley.  

On some level Hamish acknowledged that his judgement was impaired. Logically he knew his reaction to Bela being in danger, the way he’d lost control, wasn’t normal, but when he was around her he couldn’t find it in himself to worry about it. She made him feel good for the first time in longer than he cared to remember and he deserved to feel good, didn’t he? 

He set down a tumbler filled with clear liquid. 

“Don’t tell me we’re switching to water?” Bela looked a little disappointed. 

“No,” Hamish smirked “Vodka, rosemary syrup and lemon juice, also known as a Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down”. 

It was Bela’s turn to blush.

- - - - -

“Huh?” Hamish raised his head from the sofa to look over to the bar, where Bela’s head was just visible.

“I said, do you have cola?” she asked, looking through the various bottles, jars and garnishes in the bar’s mini fridge. 

Hamish pulled himself to his feet and went to retrieve a bottle from the kitchen. “Here.” He held it out to her as he joined her behind the bar. 

“Of course it was in your actual fridge, not your special cocktail fridge,” she said, nudging him in the side playfully. 

Hamish tried not to focus on the warm tingle that spread through his midriff when she made contact. He closed his eyes briefly, inhaling the vanilla and cinnamon scent from her shampoo as she leaned across him to add a generous splash of cola to the glasses in front of him.

Thanks to his heightened senses her smell was one of the first things he’d noticed about Bela when he met her - warm and rich like freshly-baked pastries. He almost wished she hadn’t washed his clothes before returning them. 

“Soulmate?” 

His eyes shot open. “Yes… uh.” He faltered, uncharacteristically. “Sorry, what?”  

She shot him a questioning look, “It’s a Soulmate.” She gestured to the glasses on the counter, “Rum, cherries, cola. Hey, are you ok Haim? Do you want water instead?”. 

Hamish shook his head, “No, I’m ok - I can handle my alcohol”. 

“Of course you can, Profess- ah!”. 

He caught her as she tripped, pulling her close to his chest to support her weight before she hit the floor. The heat of her body, pressed flush against his, soaked through the thin layers of cotton separating them and spread through him, an instant warmth that sparked what felt like a million minuscule explosions across every cell in his body.      

They both hesitated for a moment before Bela took a shallow breath and pulled herself off him. Through a cloud of embarrassment she dimly registered how Hamish’s hand lingered on the small of her back and how shaken he looked as he reluctantly stepped away.  

“There you go, saving me again.” She glanced up at him and then frowned, turning to the mess on the counter. “Our drinks weren’t so lucky”.

He recovered quickly, producing a stack of cocktail napkins from a nearby draw, which he used to dab the pools of liquid. A smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. 

“It’s fine, I’ll get us a refill - do you think you can make it to the sofa without injuring yourself?” 

Bela rolled her eyes, “I’m not always this clumsy you know, maybe i’m the one who can’t hold my drink.”

“Ok” Hamish nodded firmly, as he busied himself clearing up the mess and adding ingredients to a fresh set of glasses. “Well, this will be our last one then.”

Bela mentally kicked herself as she carefully picked her way back to the living area. The last thing she wanted right now was for the evening to end. She was enjoying seeing the normally buttoned-up Hamish let loose a little, but even in this state he was too much of a gentleman to let her drink too much. Still, flirty-tipsy Hamish might just be her new favourite drinking companion - and she couldn’t deny how good it felt to have his arms wrapped around her when he caught her. 

His thin shirt had done little to hide the broad, muscular outline of his shoulders when he pulled her to him, and even distracted by her own clumsiness, she found herself wanting to run her hands across those shoulders and down his back. 

Caught in her own thoughts, she barely noticed that she had been staring at him, watching the shape of his arms, shoulders and chest, until he cleared his throat, snapping her out of her haze, and handed over her final drink.    

She took it, and quickly swallowed a sip to hide her embarrassment. “Apple juice, gin and... lemon?” she guessed, swirling remnants of the sweet, sharp liquid around her mouth. 

“Impressive.” Hamish sat down and leaned towards her, his eyes deep pools. “I call it Dutch Courage.”

“Oh, really?” Bela placed her glass down. Her heart beat faster as she leaned towards Hamish, noting with interest when his cheeks flushed and he edged closer, as if he could hear the steady thrumming in her chest. His eyes flicked down as she licked a trace of lemony sweetness from her lips. “And what are we going to do with our Dutch Courage, Haim?” 

Hamish growled lightly under his breath. “To hell with it,” he whispered, before leaning forward suddenly, capturing her lips in a kiss. 

[morethanaprincess-a]

@saintg​ said: “Life, as they say, has its ups and downs. At times, the waves may taunt you, tossing you in their swells.”

Studio Ghibli Starters

Finally, at a crosswalk far away enough from Buckingham Palace for no one of note to notice her, Princess Sonia of Novoselic was able to exhale the deep sigh she'd been holding in all day. No, a day wasn't generous enough: a month was more exact. Though her patience, as generous and plentiful as it was, now began to fray under the weight of the international vampire talks now hosted by Queen Victoria and the United Kingdom.

It was an effort on several fronts: for one, it opened the borders of the greatest empire in the world to those it tended to fear, much of the European continent, and fashioned Victoria into a collaborative world leader with a positive agenda on her mind (the other agenda, however, was clearly understood by anyone with experience in upperclass society). And two, it would, hopefully, result in a plan respected and utilized by every great nation that would ensure the success and prosperity of vampires for centuries to come. Naturally, when the sessions had been announced, it had taken prolific vampire supporter Marquis Renfield all of a day to write one of his closest friends, King Alexandre of Novoselic, and insist the small country take part. After all, Novoselic, bordered by France, Italy, and Switzerland, was the only nation in Europe where vampires not only lived, but thrived amongst humans with strict sets of regulations for both their safeties and had done so since the fourteenth century. But necessary tasks in Novoselic kept the monarch from leaving the country's borders, and he had a twenty-three year old princess and future queen on his hands, finished with university and politely nudging her father regarding a proper grand tour.

So it had been the Royal Family and Council's compromise: she wouldn't be permitted on a true grand tour, traveling from country to country to soak in (and buy up) all of the arts and culture she could, just as she hadn't been permitted in most classrooms at university. For an unmarried woman, even an unmarried one set to take the Novoselic throne one day, Sonia proved to be a distraction for everyone else, namely the young men of the aristocracy. Additionally, they'd appease the Queen of Great Britain and Ireland, whose great plans permitted the international talks to overlap with the London Social Season, and send Princess Sonia as an active and willing participant of both sets of events. Which in theory couldn't be more different, from meeting rooms full of charts and sketches and photographs, to ballrooms with dance cards and crystal glasses filled with lemonade or champagne. But both were steeped in politics, requiring dances that any young monarch-to-be had to perform very well.

One she, as she stood on the curb clutching her pocketbook and her umbrella, seemed to be floundering in. In her sage green silk day dress and coordinating hat, Sonia pressed her lips together in thought. She'd needed the walk back to the Renfield Mansion after that particular disaster. A part of her wished the Marquis had been permitted in the discussion room and not constantly called away to the House of Lords, but the idea of requiring a man by her side to make her voice heard was enough to make her skin crawl. But that was the precise predicament she found herself in: for all of her detailed graphs, records, and expensive photos taken of some of Novoselic's cities and towns depicting vampires and humans living a peaceful coexistence, she found herself talked over, smiled at politely with no further inquiries, or worse, asking her opinion of a future ball or garden party, particularly if she'd be in attendance or not. Sonia was normally a patient sort, but a month after she'd set foot on Steel London's soil and two weeks of discussions had begun to fray even her nerves. Thus her sigh, and her desire for a short walk to Belgrave Square where her companion and lady's maid alike would happily assist in dressing her for dinner while, more importantly, she outpoured the events of the day and made plans for the fortnight when the discussions were in recess in favor of social events.

 “Life, as they say, has its ups and downs. At times, the waves may taunt you, tossing you in their swells.” 

That was enough to rid her of her sour expression, exchanging it for curiosity as she glanced to her side. She hadn't even heard him approach, with his very fair complexion and stylish attire, most likely a noble she'd yet to meet though if Queen Victoria had her way, she certainly would soon. Fate, it seemed, had done its work for the queen instead, though after hours upon hours of discussions she was hardly at her best.

"Then I think I must be in a series of downs, Sir," She offered with a small smile. He seemed to only wish to make conversation after all, something Sonia usually welcomed. When she wasn't frustrated with how much of a bungle her first real traveling expedition outside of Novoselic's borders was turning out to be. "But I wonder if it's waves or instead just-"

Nature decided to finish the sentence for her. It had been an overcast, if not gloomy, spring day in Steel London but the skies had waited until mid-afternoon to open up with a loud boom of thunder. "...rain!" She finished finally, unfolding her umbrella and raising it above her head. While most pedestrians tried to duck for cover or hail one of the newfangled cabs, Sonia remained in place, her smile growing brighter in contrast. She should've taken a carriage, but how often did she get to roam the streets of any city like a normal person? "Finally, I was very much hoping to experience a little of today's storm! It's lovely what you can see when the streets are emptied."

Though while she had the fortune of having an umbrella on hand, the blonde princess couldn't say the same for the stranger who had sided up beside her. "It's coming down quite quickly, though," She mused, tilting her umbrella in his direction. "Would you like to share my umbrella with me? We may very well be going in similar directions and I certainly wouldn't mind the company."

[satureja13]

The Pool at Belgraves Institute (and Hector 🐊)

From the Beginning  ~  Underwater Love ~  Latest

[skippyv20]

MM ANON Interpretation

Thank you MM Anon and Skippy.  Sending many good thoughts to PG today and hoping she is back with us soon!  A little attempt at the riddle is below

🎼 “ blackbird singing in dead of night”🎼…… Lyrics from the Beatles song ‘Blackbrid’.  In England a “bird” is slang for a girl or woman.  The song was inspired by the racial tensions that exploded in the US in spring 1968 as a symbolic way to support the efforts of the Civil Rights Movement.  Maybe MM just likes to get drunk, pretend to be a POC and sing to herself…

not a problem …… anything and everything …… An interpretation of the Blackbrid song above is that it can be used as a song of freedom in any circumstances. It sings that even if you’re not free, if you live in darkness, if your wings are broken and your eyes sunken, you should always try to arise, fly and follow the light that even in the darkest night shines.  Someone is saying that a request is not a problem.  Skippy often says anything and everything.  What should we believe of MM and the backers?  Anything and everything is possible.  I think that this is referencing PH and the part he is playing.  He is a bit broken but continues to get up and go along with what is is being asked to do.  He is prepared to do anything and everything to help.

more porn……there’s not a hole black enough …… redacted ………… More disgusting information is coming out in relation to JE / HW etc.  The document unsealing in the Maxwell case is meant to be presented this week coming.  Black holes (informal) are places where things can disappear without a trace.   The legal definition of redact is - Removing text or images from an original document. To cut out, white-out or black-out parts of a document. In legal proceedings, this is generally justified for reasons of privilege.  There is so much muck to cover up, potentially involving members of the BRF some may not be publicised / released but lots will.

me myself and I… … 🎼 you either got or you haven’t …………”🎼 Lyrics from the Frank Sinatra Song ‘Style’ which actually read “You’ve either got or you haven’t got style.”  Clearly alluding to her complete mess / lack of style and finesse at the Smartwork event today.  Everything was me, me, me 

………… on your own AGAIN!!!……… give a DOG a bone ………  It’s been a while now since the Lion King premiere and both MM and PH have appeared at events alone since then.  I think that this is MM asking to go to something and PH is allowing it.  Sorry it’s blunt but giving the b*tch (dog) the reward (bone) she wants.

a Belgrave secret …… not really a secret, whooops!! I do like fullbananabouquet-posts ‘merde’ explanation here - as MM Anon has said it is all sex, lies and videotapes! Belgrave Square is one of the grandest and largest 19th-century squares in London.  The square has been a favoured location for international embassies since the nineteenth century.  So a secret being kept between countries will be leaked?

Thank you so much!  We appreciate it!😊❤️❤️❤️❤️

[livinglikebritishroyalty]

𝒫𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝐸𝒹𝓌𝒶𝓇𝒹

♕ 𝐹𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝒩𝒶𝓂𝑒: Edward George Nicholas Paul Patrick

♕ 𝐹𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝒯𝒾𝓉𝓁𝑒: His Royal Highness Prince Edward The Duke of Kent

♕ 𝐵𝓸𝓇𝓃: Wednesday, October 9th, 1935 at No. 3 Belgrave Square in London, England

♕ 𝒫𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈: His Royal Highness Prince George The Duke of Kent (Father) & Her Royal Highness Princess Marina Duchess of Kent (Mother)

♕ 𝒮𝒾𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Her Royal Highness Princess Alexandra The Honourable Lady Ogilvy (Sister) & His Royal Highness Prince Michael of Kent (Brother)

♕ 𝒮𝓅𝓸𝓊𝓈𝑒: Her Royal Highness Katherine The Duchess of Kent (M. 1961)

♕ 𝒞𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒹𝓇𝑒𝓃: George Windsor Earl of St Andrews (Son), Lady Helen Taylor (Daughter), Lord Nicholas Windsor (Son), & Lord Patrick Windsor (Son: Stillborn on Wednesday, October 5th, 1977)

♕ 𝐸𝒹𝓊𝒸𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃: Ludgrove (In Berkshire, England), Eton College (In Berkshire, England), Institut Le Rosey (In Rolle, Switzerland), The Royal Military Academy Sandhurst (In Berkshire, England)

♕ 𝐼𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒲𝓸𝓇𝓀: Interests: Armed Forces (Air Force, Allied Code-Breaking, Arms, Armour, Army, Artillery, Aviation, Blues and Royals, Children of Deployed Parents, Defense Studies, Fallen Soldiers, Lifeboat Services, Life Guards, Navigators, Navy, Pilots, Retired Service People, Security Studies, World War 1 & 2), Business (Business Leaders, Community Leaders, Investments, & Trade), Education (Electronics, Engineering, Chemistry, Global Aerospace, Heritage of Counties, Informational Technology, Science, & Vocational Training), Health (Apothecaries, Burn Treatment, Chest Illness, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Dentists, Doctors, Environmental Medicine, Heart Illness, Hospitals, Leukemia, Myalgic Encephalopathy, Occupational Medicine, Pharmacists, Plastic Surgery Treatment, Post Viral Fatigue Syndrome, Strokes, Surgical Research, & Veterinarians), Other (Agriculture, Conservation, Geography, & Railways/Trains), People (Boy Scouts, Civil Servants, Freemasons, Joint Cultures, Motor Safety, Polish People, Social Clubs, The Disabled, & Young People), Sports (Alpine Ski Racing, Bobsled, Cricket, Croquet, Falconry, Fishing, Golf, Hunting, Lawn Tennis, Race Car Driving, & Skiing), & The Arts (Art History, Broadcasters, Cloth-making, Dance, Journalism, Literature, Music, Opera Music, Photography, & Writers). Work: Associate Member of The International Lawn Tennis Club of Great Britain, Chancellor of The University of Surrey, Fellow of The Royal Society, Founding Member of The International Baccalaureate School, Freeman of The City of London, Freeman/Liveryman of The Honourable Company of Air Pilots, Freeman/Liveryman of The Worshipful Company of Mercers, Gold Card Life Member of The The Children’s Charity Variety, Grand Master of The Most Distinguished Order of St. Michael and St. George, Grand Master of The United Grand Lodge of England, Grand President of The Masonic Charitable Foundation, Honorary Chair of Gilwell Fellows, Honorary Doctor of Law of The University of Leeds, Honorary Doctor of Philosophy of London Metropolitan University, Honorary Fellow of The Charted Management Institute, Honorary Fellow of The Institution of Engineering and Technology, Honorary Fellow of The The Institution of Mechanical Engineers, Honorary Fellow of The Royal Aeronautical Society, Honorary Fellow of The Royal College of Surgeons of England, Honorary Fellow of The Royal Society of Literature of the United Kingdom, Honorary Fellow of The Royal Society of Medicine, Honorary Freeman of The Worshipful Society of Apothecaries of London, Honorary Life Member of The Band of Brothers, Honorary Liveryman of The Worshipful Company of Clothworkers, Honorary Liveryman/Assistant Emeritus of The Worshipful Company of Engineers, Honorary Member of Cambridge University’s Scientific Society, Honorary Member of The Guild of Motoring Writers Limited, Honorary Member of The Household Division Yacht Club, Honorary Member of The Royal and Ancient Golf Club of St. Andrews, Honorary Member of The Royal Automobile Club, Honorary Member of The Royal Photographic Society, Honorary Member of The Work Foundation, Honorary Membership of The Old Wellingtonian Lodge, Honorary Preses of The Royal Caledonian Hunt, Honorary President of The Airlander Club, Honorary President of The Royal Geographical Society, Honorary President of The Royal United Services Institute International, High Steward of The Borough Council of King’s Lynn and West Norfolk, Joint Associate Member of The Lawn Tennis Association, Joint Patron of The Anglo-Jordanian Society, Liveryman of The Worshipful Company of Salters, Master of The Lodge of Antiquity, Member of The Blue Seal Club, Member of The Countryside Alliance, Member of The Honourable Artillery Company, Member of The Mountbatten Medal Advisory Panel, Patron of Bal Polski, Patron of Bloodwise, Patron of Boundless by CSMA, Patron of Buck’s Club, Patron of The Canterbury Cathedral Trust, Patron of The Catalogue Raisonne of Works by Philip de Laszlo M.V.O. P.R.B.A. 1969-1937, Patron of Combined Cavalry Old Comrades, Patron of Endeavor National Youth Organization, Patron of Everyone Can!, Patron of St. Mungo’s, Patron of The Army Winter Sports Association, Patron of The Bartok Festival, Patron of The Bletchley Park Trust, Patron of The British Computer Society, Patron of The Charles Douglas-Home Memorial Trust, Patron of The Devonshire and Dorset Regimental Association, Patron of The Edge Foundation, Patron of The Freemasons’ Fund for Surgical Research, Patron of The Gallantry Medallists’ League, Patron of The Hanover Band, Patron of The Institute of Advanced Motorists, Patron of The Institute of Export, Patron of The Institute of Occupational and Environmental Medicine at Birmingham University, Patron of International Musicians Seminar Prussia Cove, Patron of The Kandahar Ski Club, Patron of The Keighley & Worth Valley Railway Preservation Society, Patron of The Kent County Agricultural Society, Patron of The Kent County Cricket Club, Patron of The Lifeboat Fund, Patron of The London Philharmonic Orchestra, Patron of The Myalgic Encephalomyelitis Association, Patron of The National Army Museum, Patron of The Newbury Spring Festival, Patron of Opera North, Patron of The P.G. Wodehouse Society, Patron of The Polish Hearth Club (Ognisko Polskie), Patron of The Restore Burns and Wounds Research, Patron of The Royal Air Force Charitable Trust, Patron of The Royal Armored Corps War Memorial Benevolent Fund, Patron of The Royal Institution of Australia, Patron of The Royal West Norfolk Golf Club, Patron of The Scots Guard Association, Patron of The Ski Club of Great Britain, Patron of The Society for Army Historical Research, Patron of The Staff College Club, Patron of The Supreme Council 33°, Patron of The Tank Museum, Patron of The Tree Council, Patron of Trinity College London, Patron of The Trinity Laban Conservatoire of Music and Dance, Patron of The UK Friends of the Felix-Mendelssohn-Bartholdy-Stiftung Foundation, Patron of The University of Surrey’s Postgraduate Medical School, Patron of The Watlington Hospital Charitable Trust, Patron of The Wimbledon Lawn Tennis Museum, Patron of Wigmore Hall, President In Chief of The British Racing Drivers’ Club, President of The All England Lawn Tennis & Croquet Club, President of The Anmer Club, President of The Army and Navy Club, President of The Association of Men of Kent and Kentish Men, President of The Cavalry and Guards Club, President of The Chest/Heart/Stroke Medical Research Funds of Scotland, President of The Commonwealth War Graves Commission, President of The Duke of York’s Royal Military School, President of The Engineering Council, President of The Football Association, President of The Henley Society, President of The King Edward’s VII’s Hospital (Sister Agnes), President of The King’s Lynn Festival Limited, President of The Noel Coward Society, President of The Royal Air Force Benevolent Fund, President of The Royal Armories Development Trust, President of The Royal Choral Society, President of The Royal Institution of Great Britain, President of The Royal Nation Lifeboat Institution (RNLI), President of The Royal United Services Institute for Defense and Security Studies, President of The Scout Association, President of The Stroke Association, President of The Board of Trustees of The Imperial War Museum, President of The UK Trustees of The His Royal Highness The Duke of Edinburgh’s Commonwealth Study Conference Leaders, President of Wellington College, Royal Bencher of The Honourable Society of Lincoln’s Inn, Royal Fellow of The Royal Academy of Engineering, Royal Member of The Royal Society Club, Royal Patron of The Admiral Ramsay Museum, Royal Patron of The American Air Museum in Britain, Royal Patron of The British-German Association, Royal Patron of The Dresden Trust, Royal Patron of The Honourable Society of Lincoln’s Inn, Royal Patron of The Last Night of the Proms in Crakow, Special Representative (Formerly a Vice-Chairman) for The United Kingdom’s International Trade & Investment, Vice-Chairman of The British Overseas Trade Board, Visitor of Cranfield University, & Visitor of The Centenary World Scout Jamboree.

[citycarremovals]

Locations Abbotsford Aberfeldie Albanvale Albert Park Albion Altona Altona Gate Altona Meadows Ardeer Armadale Arthurs Creek Arthurs Seat Ascot Vale Ashburton Ashwood Aspendale Aspendale Gardens Attwood Auburn Avondale Heights Avonsleigh Bacchus Marsh Balaclava Balnarring Balnarring Beach Balwyn Bangholme Banyule Baxter Bayswater Beaconsfield Beaumaris Beenak Belgrave Belgrave Heights Bellfield Bentleigh Berwick Bittern Black Rock Blackburn Blind Bight Bonbeach Boneo Boronia Box Hill Braeside Brandon Park Braybrook Brentford Square Brighton Broadmeadows Brookfield Brooklyn Bulleen Burnley Burnside Burnside Heights Burwood Burwood Heights Cairnlea Calder Park Camberwell Campbellfield Cannons Creek Canterbury Cape Schanck Cardinia Carlton Carnegie Caroline Springs Carrum Carrum Downs Caulfield Caulfield Junction Central Park Chadstone Chadstone Centre Chelsea Chelsea Heights Cheltenham Chirnside Park Clarinda Clayton Clematis Clyde Cocoroc Collingwood Coolaroo Cottles Bridge https://www.citycarremovals.com.au/locations/

[belldzarev-blog]

hosted bar at a club

The diversity of ethnicities and cultures in Leicester makes it one of the most varied and vibrant cities in the country. The substantial Asian community has brought with it many interesting events which the city enjoys supporting. Complementing the traditional Christian festivities Leicester now also celebrates festivities such as Holi, Diwali, Eid-ul-Fitr and of course the Chinese New Year.

Bars and Pubs:

Partly due to it having two large universities close by the city centre, Leicester city's bars and clubs are numerous and give a thriving and pulsating feeling to it. Bar and club names can change quite frequently, but this helps to keep the sense of vibrancy in the city in that there is always something new on offer. The Firebug is probably as complete a pub experience as you can get anywhere. The NME student guide for 2005 described it as "A real find for blinding food, beer, tough pub quizzes and lots of live music." Here there is food to complement the 157 drinks lines they sell, regular live music, access to 'WiFi' throughout the premises and Pub Quizzes. Firebug is on Millstone Lane between the Council Offices and the old Town Hall. The Bambu, on the Welford Road below the Council Offices, 호빠 describes itself as a relaxing café lounge bar blending mystery and sophistication without pretence. The Aqualounge on Wellington Street, more or less opposite the Council Offices is a bar, club and restaurant on 3 floors in one building, with Wednesday, Friday and Saturday nights being the club nights. Moving away from the area around the Council offices, in Braunstone Gate, there's the Loaf which styles itself as a pub to 'loaf around in', slow-down, have a drink and let the world go by. If you want a traditional city centre pub, then head for the Globe on Silver Street. Built in 1720 it serves fine draught ales, decent food and has a warm and charming atmosphere.

Restaurants:

There is in Leicester what is known as the 'Golden Mile' of Asian food, to which people are drawn from miles around for a truly authentic Asian eating experience. The Golden Mile is centred along the Belgrave Road, leading north out of the city from the Haymarket bus station. Some people would say the nearer to the bus station a place is, the better the restaurant will be. Friends is an award winning Tandoori restaurant with main courses ranging from only £5 to £12. Nearby is Sanjay's Curry Pot which specialises in the Indian/Portuguese cuisine of the Goa region in India. It is one of the oldest established Asian restaurants in Leicester; prices for a main course are typically between £5 and £13. Moving away from the Belgrave Road and into the city centre, there is the Opera House, which is by the Cathedral in Guildhall Lane. This is well known for its imaginative menus and the sumptuous building in which it is housed. Alongside the market in Hotel Street is The Case, another stylish and contemporary restaurant, which also has a champagne bar in which you can order snacks and light meals. Although technically a bar and restaurant, Mobius, on Braunstone Gate, serves an excellent mix of Mediterranean and Thai cuisine. It's a relaxing place to eat and produces authentic flavours for the regional food it produces by using only the best produce.

Entertainment:

The De Montfort Hall is probably the best known venue Leicester has, almost a 'trade-mark' venue for the city. Built in 1913 and recently refurbished, it can accommodate an audience of 1500 seated or up to 2200 standing. As well as the indoor hall there is an outdoor amphitheater that can house up to 5000. It has played host to classical, jazz, blues, folk, rock and pop music as well as being a venue for touring musical shows. In recent years it has also been increasingly used for conferences and exhibitions.

The Haymarket theater in Leicester was one of the well known repertory theaters in the country. Closed at present, a new theater is currently being built on Halford Street which is due to open in spring 2007. However, complications in the building programme look as if that opening date will now be postponed.

The Phoenix Arts Centre on Newarke Street is a small community venue providing a wide variety of entertainments. It is mainly used for showing films and hosting touring comedy and musical acts. However, it can also be used for theatrical plays and musical productions. There is, of course, a café/bar, which also hosts musical performances.

For live music, apart from at the De Montfort Hall, The Charlotte on Oxford Street is probably the biggest and best known. A fledgling Oasis played here many years ago! This is the venue in Leicester where you'll first see the up and coming 'Indie' bands.

There are currently some 13 nightclubs to choose from in Leicester. Worth mentioning here is the Po Na Na, which apart from its interesting name, is well known for being the place to go for Funk and House music. Two floors with two separate sound systems make this a savvy and party spirited place to be. Po Na Na is in Carey Close near the Jewry Wall.

[stillwaterseas]

writing game tagged by @niniblack and @seekthemist

“Post the first line of your last 10 published fics, then tag 10 people.” Something I realized as I did this is that I write quite bland first lines. I should work on that, maybe. I took a little liberty with the quotes.  In reverse order from most recent to older:

1. The Exiled Prince (Damen/Laurent, Captive Prince)  Laurent tapped his fingers against the carved arm of the throne and glared at the man who killed his brother.

2. (your love is like) a shadow on me (Maia/Csevet, the Goblin Emperor) The first Maia heard of the ceremony was from Vedero. “There’s going to be an eclipse of the sun on the spring equinox this year,” she said, and then looked at him as if that were supposed to mean something to him.

3. Aught that Can Be Named (Maia/Csethiro, Maia/Csevet, TGE)  The first time Csethiro introduced him to her phallic device, Maia had been exceptionally glad for the silken curtains around the bed, so his nohecharei couldn’t see what Csethiro referred to when she said softly, “I was wondering if thou’std like to try something new?” 

4. First Dawn (gen, TGE)  Csevet knew from the moment the sealed missive was placed in his hand, that it was quite possibly the most important message he had ever been entrusted with.

5. A Suitable Companion (Damen/Laurent, CP)  “Laurent I don’t expect you to be at the investor’s dinner this weekend but it would be responsible for you to make an appearance. You know it helps investor's confidence to meet the shareholders.” His uncle’s voice was sour, as it always was when he spoke of Laurent’s share of the De Vere business.

6. Kingmaker (darkfic, canon Laurent/Regent, CP)  Uncle’s regency was confirmed in a small ceremony in front of the council members, rather than in a formal coronation.

7. Ladylike (orig regency F/F work)  The carriage drew up in front of Number 7 Belgrave Square with a rattle of cobbles. Emmeline Waters resisted the urge to tumble out like a child and instead waited for the footman to open the door.

8. Picture This (Laurent/Auguste, CP)  It starts out like any other photoshoot they’ve done. 

9. Indelible (Damen/Laurent/Nicaise, CP) It was a slow weekday afternoon at Exalted Ink when Damen met Nicaise and Laurent for the first time. 

10. The Family Business (gen, CP)  The first time Laurent killed someone, it was Auguste who cried. 

whew! I can’t believe how much I’ve written this year, I published #10 in March. tagging @thedoubteriswise @arbuscular @gatheringblues if they want to play. a bunch of other folks i love have already been tagged <3 

[yorkcalling]

Darwin Deez Heads To Yorkshire Next Month

Darwin Deez Heads To Yorkshire Next Month

Celebrating the 10th anniversary of his debut album – DARWIN DEEZ – will be embarking on a string of UK + IRISH live dates this Spring.  He will perform at The Parish in Huddersfield on May 7th and the Belgrave Music Hall in Leeds on May 15th.