Queuely Beloved - Tumblr Posts

𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐋, 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒.

All sentences on this meme have been taking from different media and sources. They all touch on the topics of romance, difficult and forbidden love, mostly setting in the political schemes of war and peace and royal court. Change names, locations and nouns and you see fit. Some lines might have foul language.

Sometimes we hurt the ones we love, but hurting ourselves to avoid it doesn’t make it better.

Could someone treat you badly and still love you? 

Even so, in the midst of this complicated love, there is a holy union.

Love is complicated. It’s sticky. It’s bliss and it’s a mix of emotions. It’s not easy.

I hated him now because I has loved him then.

 I'm not like you. I can't afford to be reckless.

When have I ever, since the first instant I touched you, pretended to be anything less than in love with you?

Are you so fucking self-absorbed as to think this is about you and whether or not I love you, rather than the fact I'm an heir to the fucking throne? 

You at least have the option to not choose a public life eventually, but I will live and die in these palaces and in this family.

She wears a crown that never should’ve been hers.

Your wish is my command, my queen.

You can always leave my service.

Don’t you see, Diana? If I did that, I’d break not one but two hearts. For I know you love me, though you haven’t said it yet.

You do know me. I love you so much, it sometimes terrifies me.

You are going to regret that, Your Magical Regalness.

Just because I am  a prince doesn’t make my life a fairy tale.

So kiss the others for all I care, but don’t hold back with me.

You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.

He didn't marry you to become king. He became king because he wanted to marry you.

I know I have but the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a king.

 I believe we are what we make ourselves, and as such, you, Crown Princess, are nothing.

You, what are you? The brat of lucky parents who were related to a childless king.

Rule with the heart of a servant. Serve with the heart of a king.

There’s a fine line between gossip and history, when one is talking about kings.

You can't treat royalty like people with normal perverted desires.

We kings do develop a certain ability to recognize objects under our noses.

...alone is such a nebulous state when one is queen.

I respect you as my king, and I respect you as my father, but I do not respect you as a man.

You're the most important person I've ever met.  And I should have never met you at all.

Desires are what can most easily ruin us, lovely.

I find that happiness can always be recollected in tranquillity, Ma’am.

It's almost impossible for those who have had an intimate relationship to return to a formal one.

I question if within you is any magic.

You’re my princess, right? You were always going to be my princess, no matter what you were born.

The king is a saint and cannot rule, and his son is a devil and should not.

For kings, the world is extremely simplified: All men are subjects.

A king deserves reverence when being addressed.

Yes, she had abused her title and station before, but for minor stuff, not to steal a warship.

You are a king worthy of their allegiance . . . with a queen full of fire and promise.

When God calls you into His Kingdom, your way of life will reflect royalty if you serve Him with loyalty.

My royal status is both a shield that protects me and a sword that impales my heart.

You know, for a pampered princess, you have a certain gift for violence.

I have to be seen to be believed.

Kings needn’t raise their voices to be heard.

That is your very own myth. The idea that how you are born or the name you are given dictate the sort of person you really are.

I know that names have power. That is why I cannot let her forget hers. 

You’ll have to face it, Princess. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon enough. And you can’t be this scared when the time comes.

A bad king revels in his importance. A good one hates his office. 

Crowns belong to those that serve.

She was their witch queen, and they adored her.

Beatrice is going to be queen someday.

Kings are only kings because one ancestor was quicker than another to place a crown on his own head.

Queen, do not allow a commoner to dethrone you. Own that throne. You are royalty.

A throne won in blood will soon be drenched in it.

My mother once told me that everything is fuelled by either money or sex, because both lead to power.

Even when she's dethroned by hardship, she still wears the sun as a crown.

She holds a nation’s fate within her shaking hands. She wears a crown that never should’ve been hers.

My reign has been anything but traditional. Let’s not start now, shall we?

Oh honey, someday a real man is going to make you see stars and you won't even be looking at the sky.

Every girl thinks about growing up in a palace. Few ever ponder living in a cage.

Climb up the family tree of any of them high enough and you’ll find a commoner who dared to take a chance.

Am I forbidden to do what all may do?

My arrival saved the kingdom, while his only reiterated that his blood would fill the throne one day.

Slow down there, princess. How do you know what kind of first impression you gave me?

So none of the young men we encountered during our season gave you hot pants for them?

If stubborness were all that was needed to be a good queen, I'd rule the world.

I’d decided that I was going to stop dressing like a princess and start dressing like a queen.

Don’t touch me. Don’t tell me how beautiful my eyes are, how soft my hair is, how you love to hear my voice. Don’t. Don’t pretend you are falling in love with me. 

I know you are lying, and every word you say hurts even more. 

Before the wedding, and the bedding, when I will have to take you as my lord and husband?

I may not be a king or a queen, but I'll be damned if I'm not treated like royalty.

He is fragile, like a prince of ice, of glass.

It is natural that men are going to gather round me, hoping for a smile.

Men only treat women like princesses when they want to use them like prostitutes.

You can smile when your heart is breaking because you're a woman.

I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't do anything but think about him.

Anyone can attract a man. The trick is to keep him.

To save my son, I would plot with the devil himself.

Only fools wait when their enemies are coming, to see if they may prove to be friends.

When a man wants a mystery, it is generally better to leave him mystified. Nobody loves a clever woman.

I wanted the heat and the sweat and the passion of a man that I could love and trust.

I am a fool to own it, but I am in a fever for your touch.

And you are the sort of mistress a man doesn't bother to marry. Sons or no sons.

🐝  *  ―  𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺. (  add " + " to reverse the action.  )

❛  do you want to tell me about your day?  ❜ ❛  here, you look like you're freezing.  ❜ ❛  i love you just the way you are, and i'm here to remind you of that whenever you need to hear it.  ❜ ❛  i promise i'll always be here if you need me.  ❜ ❛  i wish i could take away all your pain.  ❜ ❛  i'll stand by you, no matter what challenges may come our way.  ❜ ❛  i'm gonna make sure nothing bad will ever happen to you.  ❜ ❛  if you need a shoulder to lean on or someone to listen, i'm here.  ❜ ❛  if you need someone to talk to i'm always just one phone call away.  ❜ ❛  it's okay. i've got you. you're safe now.  ❜ ❛  it's okay to feel this way, we've all been there.  ❜ ❛  it's okay to lean on others for support occasionally.  ❜ ❛  just let me take care of you for a bit.  ❜ ❛  no matter what happens, you'll always have a place in my heart.  ❜ ❛  what do you need me to do to make you feel better?  ❜ ❛  you can always ask me for help if you need it.  ❜ ❛  you just relax and let me do the rest. you deserve a break.  ❜ ❛  you look like you could use a hug.  ❜ ❛  you're always taking care of me so no it's my turn to return the favor.  ❜ ❛  you're not alone in this. i'm here for you, no matter what.  ❜

[ blanket ] sender draping a blanket over receiver's shoulders [ breaths ] sender helping receiver to calm down by using breathing techniques [ compliment ] sender complimenting receiver to make them smile [ cry ] sender offering receiver a shoulder to cry on [ gift ] sender giving receiver a small gift [ hand ] sender holding receiver's hand while they're walking [ hug ] sender pulling receiver into a tight embrace [ injured ] sender helping an injured receiver with everyday tasks [ jokes ] sender trying to make receiver laugh [ kindness ] sender surprising receiver with random acts of kindness [ massage ] sender giving receiver a shoulder massage to tend to their sore muscles [ patterns ] sender drawing random patterns on receiver's skin [ pillow ] sender offering receiver to use them as a pillow [ scars ] sender gently tracing receiver's scars [ sick ] sender bringing a sick receiver whatever they need ( food / medicine / etc. ) [ steady ] sender wrapping an arm around receiver's waist to steady them [ support ] sender quietly sitting down next to receiver to let them know they're there [ touch ] sender letting receiver know they're there through simple touch [ warmth ] sender pulling receiver into their arms to share body heat [ wound ] sender cleaning / bandaging receiver's wound(s)

send me questions you have about my character!

anything and everything. favorites. thoughts on people, on events. what they would do in a certain situation. how things would be different if something had/hadn’t happened. simple questions, complex questions. have at it!

"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?”

She followed him towards the bed, her eyes never leaving his countenance. When he perched on the edge of the bed, Anne inched closer to him, standing between his legs as she rested her hands on his shoulders. How he could think she'd ever find him frightening was beyond her. He wasn't perfect, but she had never wanted such a thing. She, herself, was far from a saint and all she wanted was to feel loved and safe. She wanted to feel weightless, and she did whenever he looked at her. His hands served as anchors, keeping her from floating away and claiming her as his own.

It was hard to believe they were married. That the man she beheld was her husband. Anne never thought she would be married. She'd spent the last decade of her life learning to accept her fate as a lonely governess. But then she'd met John and everything she knew changed. And now, it was all changing again, for the better.

They could touch each other now. She could kiss him as fiercely as she wanted without any consequences. She could lace their fingers together without worrying about propriety and expectations. She could love him openly and freely, and such an exotic thought excited her. Until his question hit her like a bolt of lightning.

Have you ever done this before? It wasn't accusatory, and yet Anne felt a wave of shame crash down upon her. She had, even though it had been under entirely different circumstances. She hadn't loved George. She'd wanted to marry him once upon a time, but that dream has wilted and rotted the same night that Annelise had died. George had taken from her, but Anne had never been so eager to give herself to someone. She'd never been this undressed with a man before, never wanted to be ravished by a man before.

"I..." She hesitates, wondering if it would be better to lie to him. As soon as the thought crosses her mind, she feels remorse. What kind of wife would lie to her husband on their wedding night? It would be an easy lie, a simple shake of her head and she doubted he would question her honesty. If she said no, it would only be a lie for tonight, and by the time morning rolled around it wouldn't matter. But he had been open and dared to be vulnerable with her, even if he'd been terrified of what her reaction might be. Mere hours ago she had pledged her life and devotion to him, so the least she could do was offer him the truth.

"Yes." Her voice is low, laced with shame and she waits for him to pull away, to stare at her with a look of disgust. Wives were supposed to be pure, untouched. What man wanted a wife who had already been tainted by another? Anne was tarnished, her purity soiled. She'd been told her entire life that no man would want a woman like her. No one would want a trollop, a harlot like her. Her behavior in her youth would prove to make her a disgrace to any potential husband and yet, she didn't think John--her John-- was capable of hating her for such a thing. They both had their own scars, most of hers just weren't easy to spot.

"But not like this. Not with someone I love." Idly, her fingers gently comb through his hair, hands trembling slightly. "Please don't be upset."

"You could never frighten me, John. You may not think very highly of yourself, but I do."

He felt undeserving but there was a warmth in that and his admiration of her was augmented in that moment. Anne was content yet he wasn't sure how he could ever be with himself, with the things he'd done; she made him want to be better though, better than everything he'd proven himself to be, she made him think he was capable of as much.

Her face glowed with a blush and it reminded him of all the times past when he'd witnessed it, only now he wondered what would deepen the hue of pink.

She kissed him then, called him husband and he swallowed, feeling robbed of breath, a wanting pang in his gut. Words escaped him and now he understood perhaps the only way he could express his mind was like this.

Bringing a hand to her face, he tilted her chin upward, chasing her mouth with his own.

Stood beside one another, he did feel looming, their difference in height obviously apparent and gently, he guided her to the bed, taking a seat on the edge so she could stand above him rather than feel small.

They were still dressed in their underclothes, but even as his hands settled along either side of her waist, her skin burned against his through the sheer fabric of her shift. Feeling drawn forward, unable to stop himself, he pressed a kiss to her clothed middle.

Voice hoarse, "Have you ever done this before?"

AWYNTER ; independent roleplay blog for annelise shawcross also known as anne wynter from julia quinn's a night like this. set in the bridgerton universe. book-based with inspiration from the show. medium-to-slow activity & semi-selective. penned by elfie.

“I’ll have to let Frances that. She’s always trying to indoctrinate another believer.” Anne smirked. One day Frances would lose her whimsy and she'd become just another cog in the machine of high society. A day would come when ghosts and unicorns were a thing of the past, but until that day, Anne was determined to appreciate every second of it.

“In truth, I’m not entirely why Lady Pleinsworth was so adamant on me joining the festivities. Normally, it’s to watch the girls, but they didn’t attend tonight. I can’t imagine why she’d want her governess to be here.” Unless she was planning something, but Anne didn’t want to speculate anything. The last time Charlotte Pleinsworth had invited her to a high profile event, Anne was forced to perform on stage with the Smythe-Smith girls. While it hadn't been as horrible as it certainly could have been, Anne wasn't eager to repeat such a thing.

“Beautifully said.” She smiled, looking at the other with a subtle sense of pride. In a world filled with superficial people, it was nice to find a rare person amidst the crowds. “I have a feeling we are going to get along quite well, Lady Thinya.”

At the offer of lemonade, Anne offered a small bow, a subtle gesture of gratitude. If she were expected to spend the night at the ball, she didn't mind spending it with someone like Thinya. Especially if it meant avoiding the lingering gazes of the members of the ton. And especially when it meant being able to evade dance requests with ease.

“Are you close with the Bridgertons?” She asked, noticing her gaze. Perhaps she was guessing wrong, but Anne knew what it was like to admire from afar. She'd given George much the same look, though she was sure Thinya's was far more sincere. Looking to her companion with a smile, they walked side by side.

“I, personally, haven’t had the pleasure of meeting any of them yet, but I’ve seen them around. Mister Colin, I believe, attended the Smythe-Smith musicale last year when I was made to perform. He always seems rather taken with the ladies.” The sprinkle of gossip felt refreshing and a genuine smile of delight crossed her features. "Though, I suppose most men of the ton tend to be, don't they?"

Thinya smiled as she heard the story of one of her students convinced that houses are haunted. She liked that theory, even believed it if someone asked her about it. "I don't find this a crazy thought. I believe that most houses have witnessed enough souls, families throughout centuries. I am quite sure that not all souls left their homes. I believe that some were extremely attached to their homes and decided to stay, haunt it. Some of them are genuinely harmless, some can potentially be evil." She paused, realising that she was now talking about her own beliefs, her own convictions in a public event. "Pardon me, I tend to be fascinated by the matter." She smiled shyly.

As she heard Anne's words, the woman offered her a warm smile. She was an employee of the household and she vowed respect to her. Thinya was aware that she grew up in a privileged environment: never missing money, always being served, always having her clean sheets, washed clothes, perfect hair. This didn't mean that she felt superior to anyone. She respected all the maids in her house, even befriended them.

"I find it lovely that your employer encouraged you to participate." Thinya stated before adding: "I shall thank her for that, because you definitely enlightened my evening and it's truly lovely to talk with you." She paused before then sighing. "I know what you mean. I am a lady of the ton, but I do not have the strength, nor the energy to fight and throw myself at bachelors." She paused, looking at the Bridgerton family. "At least this wouldn't be me." She chuckled.

Anne's words made Thinya chuckle. "Oh well, I believe that flowers perk with any presence surrounding them. Ghosts may not be able to smell the scent of it, they though can admire the vibrant colour of it. I believe that even though this is an odd pairing, both somehow need each other." She looked at Anne and smiled kindly. She nodded as Anne declined the glass of champagne. "It's okay, I can pick us up a fresh lemonade if you prefer." Her green hues looked one last time at the Bridgerton boys before then adding: "Let's go. I can't see those ladies desperately throwing themselves at my friends."

Despite the annoyance towards Sarah and Gregory, Anne couldn't help but soften when her attention returned to Ben. It was hard not to stare when he was in such a state of undress, but Anne was determined to keep her eyes from lingering for too long. This was not the time nor place for such impractical desires.

"You don't normally swim, or you don't normally swim in such a bold fashion?" She bit at her lip to hide the teasing smirk that threatened to take hold of her features. If the roles were reversed, she would be mortified. However, Anne had a feeling that a man would be slightly less ashamed of being caught in such a manner than she would be. From her experiences, men were often shameless, while women were taught to be ashamed of everything. Even if that were the case, it didn't make it any less humiliating for him.

The toes of her boots nearly touch the water before he urges her to stop. She blinks, trying to figure out what exactly she had expected to do when she reached the water. What was her plan? To throw him his clothes? To wade into the depths with him? The thought was certainly tempting, but not here. Not now. Not like this.

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment at her own foolishness and she takes a step back. Anne had missed him. She supposed she merely wanted to touch him, to make sure he wasn't a figment of her imagination. She'd been yearning to see him for the past fortnight, desperate to speak to him one more time. But for this to be how she encountered him... It was safe to say she was a bit caught off guard.

"So, I suppose this means I'm not invited to join you?" The taunt slips out before she can think better of it and she immediately averts her gaze. Setting his clothes down on the ground, Anne backed up, still facing the water but her eyes glued to the earth. This was not the appropriate time to be making such jokes and yet she couldn't seem to hold it in when it was him on the receiving end.

"I'll... I'll stand at the hill to make sure no one starts this way. I'll shout if I see anyone approaching. And... Y-You just let me know when it's safe to turn around." Wringing her hands, Anne finally turned away, settling her eyes on the looming Bridgerton house in the distance. She could only pray that her words had gotten through to Sarah, that she would make sure to wait ample time before allowing the girls to come running down to the waterfront. Lady Sarah's prank had served its purpose, Anne assumed. She had certainly managed to embarrass Ben and, although Anne supposed he did deserve it to some degree, it didn't quell the irritation in her gut. It didn't stop the pang of guilt at the entire ordeal. It was her fault that he was stuck in such a situation, even if indirectly.

"I'll be sure not to relay the events of this afternoon to Harriet, lest it become a major plot point in the next play." She cast her gaze upwards, squinting as she shielded her eyes from the sun. Although her back was turned to him, Anne couldn't help but smirk as she teased. Adding such a story hook to the Fairy Princess and the Frog Prince would certainly be something the young Pleinsworth girls would do if they caught wind of his utter misfortune. Selfishly, Anne didn't mind keeping this secret to herself. Especially when it meant keeping her inappropriate thoughts hidden as well.

"It seems we both have taken her play to much to heart." It was an understatement, she thought, but Anne didn't have the courage to explain further. How had Frances seen what was between them before they did? How had a child managed to sort out her feelings before Anne herself had? Tossing another comment over her shoulder, the smirk returned to her expression. "If this is a common happenstance for you, I should discourage you from reading The Shepherd, the Unicorn, and Henry VIII. As marvelous a story as it is, I am rather fond of my head."

What happened next was but a blur. Although Benjamin wished to make a joke, it was rather difficult to be merry when he was wading there in a pond, completely vulnerable and at the mercy of the very woman who'd long since haunted his every waking thought.

Embarrassment nipped at his cheeks, and when Anne glanced toward him in between her scolding, the vivid red spilled toward his neck and chest, making him nearly glow with humility. Good God, this was mortifying...

With Gregory and Sarah gleefully making their way back to the manor, Anne approached him with his clothes. If she was amused, she thankfully didn't express as such. "It seems like it's my turn to rescue you," she said.

"I...suppose this seems a little hard to believe," Benjamin called over to her, his expression sheepish. "I don't normally swim -- and least especially on someone else's property -- but...I haven't actually done anything like this in years, and it would seem that little bugger knew exactly how to prey on my weaknesses."

Once Anne reached the edge of the water, Benjamin immediately lifted his hands, entreating with her to stop. "Please don't," he begged her. "I don't want you getting wet...though naturally, I also don't think it proper for me to just wade forward and take my clothes."

Clearing his throat, he glanced around them, assessing the scene, before offering, "You can set everything there on the bank, and then maybe hide behind that tree? And if God is on my side, I won't end up flashing all the Pleinsworth girls when they make their triumphant arrival."

Finally, he grinned, a self-conscious laugh bubbling in his throat. "If nothing else, you'll at least have blackmail on me for the rest of my days." Meeting her gaze, Benjamin finally seemed to remember his physical state and ducked back down into the water, ensuring that he was covered up to his chin. "Um...I'd ask that you forget this ever happened, but I'm afraid that seems relatively impossible." Smiling shyly, he added, "And I never thought I'd become the Frog Prince quite in this way...perhaps I took Frances' play too much to heart."

your muse’s aesthetics as flowers.

bold or italicize what applies to your muse.

roses: true romantic, loving the classics, pricked fingers, perfect makeup done to impress, bruises easily, beloved but unknown, soul as old as time, overused and under-appreciated.

daisies: clean linens, youthful naivety, family, wide open spaces, running barefoot, moving towards instead of away, trying to forget about death, sun blindness.

sunflowers: standing tall, strong roots, a home to always return to, warm summer air, holding onto lost hope, belief in growth, painted overalls, split ends.

bluebells: the end of spring, determination for the truth, cold and cautious, moonlight on windowsills, the taste of ice, unnecessary shyness, quiet belief in the extraordinary, complicated morals.

daffodils: mom friend, sweets, the smell of baking, riverbanks, leaving behind a toxic situation, being happy with your reflection, believing in luck, moving in a pack.

irises: sour candies, unappreciated elegance, valor, crystals projecting rainbows on white walls, unintended organization, old royalty, refusal to bow, learning a new language for the fun of it.

lilies: secret poison, perfect handwriting, crisp consonants, pressed and ironed sheets, open windows, infinite persistence, thick skin, colder hands.

lilac: fleeting and fair, strong but delicate, radiating good vibes, the beauty of falling apart, the joy in being scattered, soft fabrics, whirlwind romance, keeping the door open.

🐝  *  ―  𝑬𝑷𝑰𝑪: 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑪𝑨𝑳 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.

Troy Saga ❛  do what i say and you'll see them again.  ❜ ❛  what do you live for? what do you try for?  ❜ ❛  say no more, i know tat i'm ready.  ❜ ❛  the blood on your hands is something you won't lose.  ❜ ❛  is the price i pay endless pain?  ❜ ❛  something feels off here, i see fire but there's no smoke.  ❜ ❛  we should try to find a way no one ends up dead.  ❜ ❛  why should we take when we could give?  ❜ ❛  i see in your face, there's so much guilt inside your heart.  ❜ ❛  have you forgotten the lessons i taught you?  ❜

The Cyclops Saga ❛  it's almost too perfect, too god to be true.  ❜ ❛  what gives you the right to deal a pain so deep?  ❜ ❛  your life now is in my hand.  ❜ ❛  remember them, we're the ones who carry on.  ❜ ❛  what good would killing do when mercy is a skill more of this world could learn to use?  ❜ ❛  i am your darkest moment.  ❜ ❛  i don't know where i went wrong but i warned ya', and you failed the test.  ❜ ❛  that's just like you, why should i be surprised?  ❜ ❛  unlike you, every time someone dies i'm left to deal with the strain.  ❜ ❛  i'll remind you i saw you as a friend but now we're done.  ❜

The Ocean Saga ❛  at this rate, we won't make it out alive.  ❜ ❛  please don't tell me you're about to do what i think you'll do.  ❜ ❛  yes, but how much longer til your luck runs out?  ❜ ❛  you rely on wit, and people die on it.  ❜ ❛  you're like the brother i could never do without.  ❜ ❛  and suddenly you doubt that i could figure this out?  ❜ ❛  keep your friends close and your enemies closer, never really know who you can trust.  ❜ ❛  'cause the end always justifies the means.  ❜ ❛  do you know who i am?  ❜ ❛  you are the worst kind of good 'cause you're not even great.  ❜

The Circe Saga ❛  whatever you need to say can wait some more.  ❜ ❛  there's no length i wouldn't go if it was you i had to save.  ❜ ❛  wouldn't you like a taste of the power?  ❜ ❛  don't thank me friend, you very well may die.  ❜ ❛  did you do something to them?  ❜ ❛  if you make one wrong move, then you're done for.  ❜ ❛  you and i are now evenly matched.  ❜ ❛  you've given me no reason to bestow you with my trust.  ❜ ❛  who's to say, with the mistakes i've made that they will be the last mistakes i ever make?  ❜ ❛  this is the price we pay to love.  ❜

The Underworld Saga ❛  all i hear are screams, every time i dare to close my eyes.  ❜ ❛  i no longer dream, only nigtmares of those who've died.  ❜ ❛  when does a man become a monster?  ❜ ❛  now you tell us our effort's are for nothing?  ❜ ❛  how has everything been turned against us?  ❜ ❛  do i need to change?  ❜ ❛  i'm the only one whose line i haven't crossed.  ❜ ❛  what if i'm the problem that's been hiding all along?  ❜ ❛  what if i've been far too kind to foes but a monster to ourselves?  ❜ ❛  if i became the monster and threw that guilt away would that make us stronger?  ❜

The Thunder Saga ❛  you wouldn't have spared me. i made a mistake like this, it almost cost my life.  ❜ ❛  i've got a secret i can no longer keep.  ❜ ❛  you know that we are the same.  ❜ ❛  we must do what it takes to survive.  ❜ ❛  tell me you did not know that would happen.  ❜ ❛  if you want all the power, you must carry all the blame.  ❜ ❛  how are we supposed to trust you now?  ❜ ❛  how much longer must i suffer now?  ❜ ❛  someone's gotta die today and you have got the final say.  ❜ ❛  please don't make me do this.  ❜

The Wisdom Saga ❛  you've made your worst mistake here.  ❜ ❛  this cruel world doesn't give out presents just for being good.  ❜ ❛  you're my friend, i couldn't ask for more.  ❜ ❛  did you know you talk in your sleep?  ❜ ❛  i'm what you want here, i'm what you need here.  ❜ ❛  you don't know what i've gone through.  ❜ ❛  i know your life's been hard, i'll stay inside your heart.  ❜ ❛  life would be so much worse if you had died.  ❜ ❛  you dare to defy me, to make me feel shame?  ❜ ❛  no one beats me, no one wins my game.  ❜

“It’s not a slight against you, Lord Bridgerton, I swear it. I just... don’t think it would be wise for you to be seen with me.” Her cheeks burned with shame. She felt awful rejecting his offer, and his gentle humility only made her feel worse. In truth she would have minded dancing with him. Although it had been a long time since she’d taken to the dance floor, there were times when she missed it. And the idea of dancing with a handsome bachelor made it even more alluring. But it was too risky. And she valued her job more than her pride.

“Dinner?” She blanched. How would she go about such a thing? It would be impossible to slip out unnoticed but it would be equally as difficult to explain to Lady Pleinsworth why a governess was attending the dinner of a viscount—and a notoriously rakish one at that. Being seen with him could very well be enough to get her fired, and then she would be back to square one.

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly… I-I would not dare to impose on something as sacred as family dinner. Though I have a feeling you are not likely to accept that as an answer.” Smiling sheepishly, she bit at the inside of her cheek. “My Lord, I insist there is no favor to repay. Just your gratitude is sufficient. I need not ask for anything more than what you've already given me.”

In all his years, both as an eligible bachelor and an infamous Rake (with a prominent capital ‘R’), Anthony Bridgerton was certain he’d never once received such a blatant declination from a woman – any woman, for that matter. None but this one, anyway. It surprised him, intrigued him even. 

While it stood to reason that holding fast to the arm of a Viscount would certainly earn Miss Wynter plenty of attention (albeit of mixed opinions), he simply couldn’t fathom why she wouldn’t relish the opportunity to have it, excluding the wagging tongue of one Lady Whistledown. Aside from that nuisance of a gossip column. Wouldn’t any young woman want to be the center of attention? 

Furling his fingers into his palm, Anthony retracted his hand and straightened his stance, though he could hardly accept the defeat. 

“I respect your refusal to take to the dance floor, however you must permit me to compensate you in some way, Miss Wynter.”

But how? How could he possibly demonstrate his gratitude if the woman wouldn’t so much as be seen with him? 

“Perhaps you’d be more inclined to join my family and I for dinner tomorrow night?” 

Deeply Exhausted Starters

"You can barely stand, you need to lie down."

"When's the last time you slept?"

"You're not fooling me, I can see the bags under your eyes."

"Rest is not optional!"

"You promised you wouldn't stay up all night reading."

"I'm just - exhausted - I'm sorry -"

"I can't remember the last time I slept."

"I just want to rest for a bit."

"I'm so tired, I can't think."

"I'm trying, I am, I just... I just wanna lay down..."

"No, I'm not tired. Leave me alone."

"It doesn't matter, I can't sleep anyway."

"Leave me alone, I'm an adult, I choose when I go to bed."

"Oh, like you're any better?"

"I'm not even that.. that tired, I'm... mm, I'm fine."

Just because I am a prince doesn’t make my life a fairy tale. / from day!

“I…” Anne’s words trailed off as she tried to formulate a reply that didn’t sound entirely ignorant. She knew that lives were rarely fairy tales, even for those with the world at their fingertips. She had been one, once upon a time, but even then her life had been far from magical. “I did not mean to make it sound as though you were living a fairy tale. I merely meant that it must be rather freeing to live such a life. A life of freedom and luxury. That's all I meant."

❛  no one beats me, no one wins my game.  ❜

"And why is that?" Anne narrows her eyes, watching him with careful scrutiny. She feels like she knows the type of man he is, feels as though she's met hundred of versions of him in her lifetime, and yet she can't be entirely sure he's exactly the same. After a moment, she leans in closer, her gaze growing more pointed. "Is it because the game's rigged? Because you don't want anyone to win?"

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄

Send an emoji and I’ll make a moodboard for:

🌞 my muse’s aesthetic 

🌙 your muse’s aesthetic

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 my muse’s family

💼 my muse’s job/occupation

🍕 my muse’s favorite foods

💛 our muses’ relationship 

💕 our muses’ romantic relationship 

🔮 my muse’s zodiac sign

🏨 my muse’s town/country 

🏠 my muse’s home

📚 my muse’s past/childhood

🎨 my muse’s favorite color

⭐ one of my muse’s AU (please specify)

⚡ one of your muse’s AU (please specify)

PROMPTS FOR A LITTLE JEALOUSY *  assorted dialogue for when you see the person you're interested in with someone else and go... hey wait a minute, adjust as necessary

are you two... together?

i should probably ask if you're single first.

who was that you were talking to?

did you two have a nice chat?

are we really doing this now?

what was that all about?

i don't like it when they touch you.

they need to learn to keep their hands off you.

are you trying to make me jealous?

you just gave me the impression we were exclusive.

who was that, anyway?

was that someone you know?

it's completely innocent.

were you flirting with them?

that was a little bit excessive.

they were flirting with you.

i'm not jealous.

i'm upset with you.

they didn't mean anything by that.

i just thought we had something going on.

they know i have feelings for you.

i hate it when you get jealous.

i'm two seconds away from throwing a punch.

they did that on purpose.

wait a minute... are you jealous?

you have no reason to worry.

i'm not interested in them, i promise.

they do get a little touchy-feely, i'll admit.

they don't mean anything by it.

did they just try to kiss you?

we're just really good friends!

you know i only have eyes for you.

please ignore them, okay?

it's not like i'm in love with you or anything.

they're just trying to upset you.

i just don't like it when someone else flirts with you.

i don't blame them, of course, but you're mine.

next time someone tries to hit on you, call me over.

i'll give them a piece of my mind.

they know you're taken, right?

i didn't want to get in your way.

clearly your mind is elsewhere.

if you'd rather be with them, then just tell me.

i need to know where we stand.

can we be more exclusive?

i just don't like it when they talk to you like that.

you have absolutely nothing to worry about.

if they make you happy... i can't stop it.

maybe i have a crush on you. so what?

there was a better way to go about this, you know.

you could have been a little bit nicer.

did you have to be so nasty about it?

i'm going to scream.

i don't want anything coming in between us.

you trust me, don't you?

if you trust me, you have nothing to worry about.

this jealousy of yours is getting a little bit out of control.

i love only you.

why do they have to hold your hand like that?

they couldn't keep their hands off you.

i hate watching you deal with that.

i should give them a piece of my mind.

what? me? jealous? never.

i think i'm allowed a little jealousy every now and then.

you're mine, and i want everyone to know that.

did you just... get jealous over me?

you said you weren't the jealous type.

Although Anne was sure she knew the answer, something inside her wanted to hear him say it. In more ways than he could comprehend, he had saved her. From loneliness, from George's wrath, and even from herself. He was her hero, in more ways than one. But she waited, listening for the answer she'd been hoping for. And then he said it, his strained voice uttering the part that her heart ached for most: that he wanted to.

The way he wriggled beneath her touch made her flush with pride and the corner of her lips twitched upwards. She'd had a similar effect on George and it had been addicting. The power trip of making a man bend to her will was something that she'd never managed to find anywhere else. It was the one thing that she, as a woman, held over men as a species. But, in this case, she wasn't eager to wield it as a weapon as much as she wanted to use it as a tool.

Each compliment he uttered earned another tender kiss against his thigh, the rhythm of her strokes slowing to a tantalizing pace. She waited, holding herself back from taking him into her mouth. Anne knew there would be another time for such a thing. She could show him what wicked tricks she'd learned to do with her mouth another night, but tonight she wanted to give herself to him.

Her name is all she needs to hear before she abruptly stops toying with him and unfurls her hand from his erection. Carefully, she rises to her feet again and reached forward to grab his hands. Anne pulls him back up to a sitting position before pressing her mouth to his for a hungry, feverish kiss. As she deepens the kiss, she gently pushes him backwards, urging him to make room for her to crawl onto the bed with him. Her own senses are clouded and Anne can't tell what is her own decision and what the heat between her legs is telling her to do. In a hushed voice, she leans in and whispers gentle command.

"Take me, John."

"Why did you marry me, John?"

Swallowing thickly, it took him a moment to comprehend her words and all at once memories of the past months flickered in his mind, juxtaposing visions of the gardens, of the peaceful countryside, and then the wicked face of the bastard Chervil accompanied with the bray of Lady Pleinsworth as they attempted to cast Anne into ruin.

Anne's past was her own and it'd remained so for he knew if he began questioning, he'd be expected to reciprocate. No; her past was hers, his past was his; what happened then... it didn't matter now, not now, not within the walls of their room.

"Why did you marry me, John?"

"To save you," but he didn't say that for that wasn't right either; this marriage wasn't some selfless act, and gazing down at where she was nestled against his lower half, he answered, "Because I wanted to."

She moved forward and he groaned, his head falling back into the bedding when her breathe ghosted over his length, a new cord of pleasure making him squirm, his hips threatening to buck as she continued her cruel teasing. He was feverish, his pulse hammering throughout every part of him, the ache in his lower abdomen deepening.

"Tell me what you like about me."

He could practically feel her lips brushing over him with each word and he whimpered, blinking frantically, trying to maintain control lest he wanted to finish in her hand.

"I-I like your smile. I like the way you laugh. I-I..." he was losing his train of thought, her pace against him seemingly quicker and he felt closer to falling over the edge, "You're kind," the words spilling from him now, desperately trying to keep his senses, "and clever and... Fuck. Anne, please."

"I have no doubts that you served your country well, Mister Woodhull." Her lips pressed together into a sheepish smile. Soldiers were always an enigma in her mind. Boys forced to become men, and then forced to become whatever they were needed to be. It was similar to that of a lady's, if she dissected it closely enough, but the dancefloors of soirees and trials of courtships were different than any of the battlefields Thomas must've stepped foot on.

She does feel sorry for him, but not in a patronizing way. She does not pity him, necessarily, as much as mourns the peace he might've had if his own life hadn't been stolen from him. Much the way she mourned her own life that had been left behind in Northumberland. Feeling sorry for the way their lives had played out was fruitless, but that didn't mean they weren't allowed to grieve all the what-ifs.

His touch is gentle and it strikes her as odd, how a single gesture can open a Pandora's box of emotions in her heart. Moments like this remind her of her childhood, of the afternoons when her and Charlotte would lounge in the grass, braiding together daisy chains while Marabeth complained about bugs. Annelise had always been annoyed with her eldest sister for always having something to complain about, but, after a decade apart from her family, she would give anything to hear her sister whine about anything, just one more time. If she were to close her eyes and awaken in her mind's idea of a perfect place, Anne thinks it would be something like this. No expectations, no judgements. No secrets or ghosts of her past looming in the distance. Just the freedom to exist amidst the serenity of nature and comfort of companionship.

Anne's eyes linger on his hand as her mind trails off on its own accord. She desperately wished she could believe his words, believe that not all things were temporary. Time, life, happiness. They were all fleeting moments, only made valuable by being short-lived. If she were still the idealistic girl she'd been in her youth, Anne might've dared to hope that certain things were meant to last, but her rose-tinted lenses had shattered long ago, along with her life as Annelise Shawcross.

"I would like to believe that, yes." Her smile was wistful as she lifted her gaze to meet his. "But how many good deeds does it take to outweigh the bad ones?"

Thomas had never questioned Anne much on her past. It was not as if he didn’t care— he truly did wish to know more about her. However, he worried that his own questions may open the door for her to question his past. He was careful about what he revealed. After all, he would be shunned if he were to reveal that his younger brother had been a common spy. Graciousness was already quite difficult to come by, he certainly did not need to make things more difficult for himself.

“It was my duty, and I did it to the best of my ability. You mustn’t feel sorry for me,” Thomas reassured her. Of course, he doubted himself on such. If he had been a truly good soldier and as intelligent as he once thought himself, would he not have seen his brother behaving like a common snake in a garden riddled with weeds? To think of it makes his heart hurt, so he pushes those thoughts away.

For a moment, he simply watches Anne. Admittedly, she is breathtaking. That is another thing he holds close. He is afraid to offer himself, especially his heart to others. If his own brother could betray him, how can he trust anyone else? But she is kind to him, her words never wounding his admittedly fragile heart. He has not noticed her staring at his bad leg, or laughing at his voices, as he has seen others do. Desperately, he wishes to trust her.

Thickly, he swallows at her words. As she said, all things were fleeting. It was a lesson he had certainly learned the hard way, by some cruel master.

“Please don’t worry,” Thomas reassured, gently reaching out his hand, his fingers brushing her hand. “Perhaps though, not all things are fleeting. Do you not believe that we will be awarded for good deeds in this life in the world to come?”

She can sense his annoyance in the task he'd been given, and she doesn't blame him. It seemed ridiculous to assume that one man would be able to easily transport so many things. It was possible, she supposed. He seemed strong and capable enough, but it was the principle of the matter for Anne. He was a human, not a workhorse.

For the first time since her childhood, Anne finds herself agitated with the body she'd been born into. As much as her mind wanted to offer help, to lend a hand towards his task, she knew any attempts she made would only make things worse. Petite fingers were meant for embroidery, not manual labor. Her thin arms and bony shoulders weren't made for this sort of thing.

"It's alright. I'd rather you speak your mind than regurgitate whatever nonsense your boss has you believe." Anne knows it isn't the wisest option for either of them to be speaking so frankly, to allow themselves to express their thoughts, but she couldn't help it. She spent the majority of her life wearing a mask, a smiling, prim and proper façade handcrafted to please others. For a moment, it was all too tempting to feel free to act like a human.

"Oh, no, of course not. Lady Pleinsworth is not so cruel as to deny a man a drink, I assure you." Even if she was, it wouldn't have made a difference. As much as Anne knew it would be better for the both of them if she stood in the corner silently, she couldn't resist the need to talk to him, to make a smile crackle across his hardened countenance. "I pray I can trust you not to wreak havoc while I fetch you a glass?"

Offering him a quick teasing glance, she slipped away and down to the drawing room. She'd been in there just this morning with Harriet and the girls and she knew that there was still a pitcher of lemonade lying around. It wouldn't be as perfectly tart as it might have been hours ago, but it was still cold and refreshing and Anne hoped that would be enough to make up for the flavor.

Retrieving a glass from the table, she filled it with lemonade, making sure to leave out any chunks of lemon. When she was satisfied with her bounty, she hurried back to where she'd left him.

"It's not entirely fresh, but it's cold, so it should cool you down." Shyly, she cradled the glass in her hands and waited for him to make the first move. She didn't want to encroach on his privacy and the last thing she wanted was to make him feel more uncomfortable, so she merely shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she waited. "And if you desire another, I'd be glad to refill your glass."

The foyer... "Right," already Mack's trying to mentally envision how many more of these trips will be needed. At least two dozen trips should do it, or at least he hopes. He's meant to have the wagon returned to the warehouse by four o'clock though it's clear that won't be possible. He drops the next crate into the stacks, breathing shallowly when the servant's voice interrupts his thoughts,

"Do you... Would you like something to drink? I can fetch you a glass of lemonade, or tea, if you'd like. I feel like you've at least earned a drink for all this work.

Well, at least he assumes she's a servant. She's certainly no lady, though she's not dressed to be a housekeeper. A shrug, "Don't want to get you in trouble, Miss."

"Pardon my frankness, but your employer seems like a bit of a dunce to make you do this all on your own. Or perhaps just a scrooge..."

Mack chuckles, going to collect the next box, "Oh, he is," he grunts, lifting the weight, still speaking as he hauls it from the wagonbed to the door, "I honestly think would kill the ruddy bastard to send more than one of us on these jobs."

He keeps his hands on the crate, only realizing what he's said after it's done, "Pardon my language, Miss."

He pauses to catch his breath, looking at the woman while he does so, wondering why she's been damned to be the one to make sure he won't nab any of the silver candlesticks inside.

"I'll take a lemonade, only if you're sure the Missus won't throw a fit."

send in " are you hurt?! hey! are you hurt?! " for the sender to frantically grab the receiver and worriedly check them for any injuries after finding them during a potentially deadly incident.

alternatively, send in " hey! look at me! i'm fine... see? " for the sender to react to the receiver frantically grabbing them and checking them for any injuries after a potentially deadly incident. / link to the inspiring post!