Autumn / Spooky Memes!

Autumn / Spooky memes!

Requested by anon!

"Oh, I love it when the leaves start falling."

"I think it's going to storm."

"I love a thunderstorm."

"Look at all the colours! It's beautiful!"

"Aw, man, I always get sad when it goes cold."

"Do you want to go pick out a pumpkin?"

"Look at this tiny pumpkin!"

"We need to get a good carving pumpkin, I left it too late last year and got a really weird one."

"I'm making pumpkin soup."

"Ugh, I hate all this pumpkin spice stuff."

"Ooh, I love this pumpkin spice stuff!"

"I really want to curl up by the fire with a good book."

"Time to get my cardigans out again."

"This sort of weather deserves a golden retriever."

"Do you want some hot cocoa?"

"Nothing like the first hot chocolate of the year."

"Mmm, this is really nice. You should try some."

"I'm making apple cider!"

"How have you never had hot apple cider?!"

"This is my favourite time of year."

"Let's get the hallowe'en decorations out!"

"I'm going to buy a twelve foot skeleton this year, I don't care what anyone says."

"Did you get candy for the trick or treaters yet?"

"I bet we can see a ghost if we go out tonight."

"Wait, wait, I'm gonna put on a bedsheet and scare these kids."

"I hate hallowe'en."

"I love hallowe'en."

"I'm going to eat so much candy tonight."

"Are you taking the kids trick or treating?"

"It's the first time taking the kids trick or treating! They've been so excited."

"You are indebted to no one, my lord. Least of all to me. I only wished to do the right thing." She offered with a sheepish smile. She knew who he was. Anyone in Mayfair worth their wits knew who he was. And while Anne may not have frequented all the events nor did she partake in the fervent gossip that circulated the ton, she knew what she needed to know to survive London's high society. She knew the names of most of the Lords and Viscounts, Barons and Dukes in town, and used the knowledge as a shield. Knowing the enemy was the key to winning she'd been told. Though, Anne wasn't entirely sure she'd consider Lord Bridgerton to be the enemy. His eyes were far too sad for him to be the enemy.

"Anne Wynter." Her cheeks blushed a like pink at his bow, gently taking his hand and offering a bow in return. She didn't deserve such an introduction and it made her feel like a fraud. She was a fraud, she reminded herself, but that didn't mean she wanted to feel like one. "Though, not a heroine, I'm afraid. More of a background character in my own story."

@awynter {x}

He hadn’t meant for his alarm to come across as fury when he’d snatched the watch from her hands. Really he hadn’t, but it wasn’t just any old pocket watch he’d so carelessly lost, it was an heirloom, a precious keepsake that felt like the last remaining tether between himself and his prematurely departed father. 

Perhaps he’d miscalculated and dropped it when attempting to slip it back into his pocket while in mid-conversation. He tended to do so a lot, for checking the time was a bit of an apprehensive tick of his. It wasn’t that he was anxious to know the hour or that he had somewhere to be, it simply always felt as though he were running out of time itself. The more discontent he was, the more often he’d glance at it. 

Examining the memento intently to ensure it had no scratches or dents, Anthony breathed a sigh of relief as he used his sleeve to clear the lens of any smudges before gripping the watch just a little tighter. Sated, he glanced up at the woman with mounting embarrassment, his undignified behavior not at all appropriate for the likes of a complete stranger. 

“It appears I’m indebted to you, Miss…” he paused, realizing he hadn’t so much as asked her name upon the sight of his most valuable possession, one he’d never thought he’d see again.

“Apologies. We’ve not been formally introduced. I’m V.iscount Anthony B.ridgerton.” 

Here, he gave a polite and hurried little bow before extending his hand to receive hers in the polite exchange of pleasantries, “And might I have the pleasure of knowing the name of my heroine?”

Anthony is stupid but love him maybe? lol

are you anne's type?

live anne reaction:

Send my muse anons pretending to be someone they care about. The twist: make these anons as heartbreaking, disappointing, or anger-inducing as possible.

Pretend to give them bad news, pretend to break up with them, pretend to make an upsetting confession - as long as it hurts, it’s fair game.

are you anne's type? (easy mode)

“You like Sarah. And you like me.” She shook her head, trying to make sense of it all. “But you speak as if they’re different. Are they not the same thing?" Looking up at him with furrowed brows, she continued. "You like Sarah, but not enough to love her, nor to marry her. But you like me enough to... what? Kiss me? Marry me? No... you're merely blinded by your own desires. As am I.”

Anne knew she was not worthy of love, especially his. She could devote her entire life to loving Ben and it would never be enough. It would never be the level of love he deserved, and yet she couldn't bear to think of anyone else loving him the way she did. “You deserve someone like Sarah. Someone who can care for you, w-who can take care of you, keep you safe. Not someone like me. I-I have only ever caused you hardship. And pain."

I never wanted Sarah. Anne stared at him incredulously. She'd suspected--hoped-- that what he was saying were true. A part of her had hoped that his interest in Sarah had merely been a ploy to make her jealous. A ploy that had certainly worked. But to hear it from him, made her head spin.

"We're both fools." For thinking they could ever stay away from one another. For thinking they could ignore the spark between them. For thinking a union between their hearts could ever end happily.

I just needed an excuse to talk to you. To touch you. She nearly lets out a whine of impatience. The more he spoke, the harder it was to imagine herself ridding herself of him. She'd gone nearly thirty years without his presence, and now it was hard for her to think of another month without his smile to warm her thoughts. She was sick, his sheer existence a plague upon her heart. To allow herself to love him would be welcoming heartache and yet pain had never been so tempting.

“Ben, I beg you,” Both hands rose to her head, brushing loose strands of hair out of her face as she silently pleaded with the universe to show her mercy. “Please stop saying things that only make me want you more. I cannot bear it.”

His apology hits her like a stray bullet, searing and stinging from any underlying implications. They were both pining for something that would never reasonably work. Especially not now that he'd made it seem as though he were interested in Sarah. If he stopped courting her, the Pleinsworth girl would surely recover. She had plenty of possible suitors to pursue, but it would also mean that Anne would have no chance. If Ben ceased his courtship with Sarah and then proceeded to spend his time with Anne, it might be enough to get her fired. It might be enough to get her exiled again.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm the one who ruined things.” And it was true. If either of them had to be sorry, it was Anne. If she hadn’t said the things she did, when she did and the way she had, he wouldn’t have gone after Sarah. Would he? If she hadn’t been so careless with her words, she might’ve been able to care for him with less guilt. If she hadn't been so terrified of feeling something for someone else, things might not have turned out this way.

The way her name sounds on his lips is addicting and she can’t help but wonder what it would sound like as lovesick moans. Even despite the aching in her chest, she still wanted him. She wanted him in every way a woman could want a man and it pained her to know that she might never be allowed to have him in such a way. They would never be free to love one another, not in the way they both deserved.

“Fate may have it that way, but that doesn’t mean it’s what I want.” She doesn’t realize she says it out loud until she hears the words reverberating through the corridor. If it wasn't putting both of them at risk, she might've taken the plunge. If loving him didn't mean putting him in danger, Anne might've risked her job, her livelihood for the chance at happiness. But the idea that being with her could possibly place him in any crossfire of George's vengeance was too much to endure.

“How do you still manage to be so utterly charming even now?” Frustrated, she let out another sigh. A part of her wishes she’d met him as Annelise, as a far bolder and less broken person. She might've been worthy of him then, when her heart was full and willing to be offered up to the first man to show her kindness. Now, however, her heart was withered and worn, bruised and frayed from a life of inconsistencies. He deserved a better heart, a heart with every ounce to give. He deserved things that she couldn't give to him, no matter how much she wanted to.

“We should... We should speak about this another time. Under better conditions. When we both have a clearer head.” She sniffled, willing the tears to cease. Anne kept her gaze pinned to the floor, worried that meeting his gaze would only weaken her resolve, that she would only be tempted to pull him back to her and never let go. "You ought to speak to Miss Pleinsworth. Tell her whatever it is you must to not break her heart, and... should you still feel the same way about me in a week's time, then maybe..." She didn't know what she was saying, nor what she was implying. Shaking her head, she tried to rid herself of the idea. It was preposterous and illogical. And entirely enticing. "I will call for a maid to chaperone the rest of your visit with Lady Sarah. Good day, Mister Tallmadge."

Shaking his head, Benjamin grew all the more earnest. A sense of desperation clawed within his chest, scratching and squeezing as his eyes grew wet. "I like Sarah, yes," he carefully treaded, "but as far as I'm concerned, liking someone is not the proper foundation for love and marriage. Your former charge deserves a lover who can give her those things...and I fear I am not that man."

Anne's laughter was wet and humorless, and Benjamin was sorry to be the cause of such anguish. But then she stepped toward him, her eyes reflecting the sorrow in his own face as she whispered a terrifying truth -- that the Fairy Princess loved the Frog Prince; that she was in love with him.

"Anne..." Mouth opening and closing, for the longest time, all Benjamin could do was gape at her. Emotion tickled at the back of his throat, stark and white-hot, and swallowing around the painful lump, he reached for her hand, but she'd already retreated toward her respective side of the hall.

"We can't." She echoed his earlier sentiment, though coming from her lips, it held the impact of a battering ram against his heart. "It's not right. Especially not if Sarah..."

"No," Benjamin agreed, a tragic smile filling his mouth. "No, you're right: it's wrong. The two of us...i-it's just wrong. For everyone involved."

The teacher in Anne resurfaced, and if he hadn't been so devastated, he might have smiled at her sudden sternness. Her query made Benjamin shake his head, and with a low exhale, he promised, "No, I've never wanted Sarah. Being near her inevitably brought me closer to you, and I...I feel like such a fool." His smile grew tighter still. "For being an alleged intellect, I certainly seem to be lacking in that department."

To his surprise, Anne barreled onward with a fusillade of words, each stinging with more emotion than the last. She'd been hurt before? And by someone with another woman?

Mouth falling agape, Benjamin struggled to bring words to his mouth, but the moment he saw the tears spilling down Anne's cheeks, that guilt soon turned to panic. God above -- could he never do anything right? Was he destined to wreak havoc and heartbreak wherever he went?

Anne exhaled and gestured to her side. "The washroom is down the hall, the last door on the left."

Despite the high tension between them, Benjamin managed a soft chuckle. "I never had to use it," he confessed, his eyes shining sheepishly. "I just...I needed an excuse to talk to you -- to touch you, if only the once." He anxiously flexed his hands. "And as fate would have it, it seems 'only the once' is what it must surely be. I'm sorry, Anne." His shoulders drooped. "So sorry."