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#not the same as it was
peterpparkrr · 1 year
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(Not) the same as it was - Ch. 5 | A Bridgerton Series
Series: (Not) the same as it was
Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x OFC (Josephine Wescott)
Word Count: 1.9k
Summary: A young Anthony and Jo are reunited in the aftermath of Edmund Bridgerton’s death. In 1814, Anthony Bridgerton tries to make amends. 
A/N: We're back! Apologies for the heartbreak in this chapter (but perhaps the angst makes way for a lil something-something?)
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Aubrey Hall, Kent, 1803 
“Oh, Anthony,” Josephine murmured as she embraced Anthony tightly. “I am so sorry.”
Josephine’s family returned to Kent as soon as word came. Mrs. Saville, Jo’s mother, was eager to be by Violet’s side and support her closest friend through this loss. And Jo was desperate to see Anthony. 
Josephine had never experienced a loss. Not one of this magnitude. But she could only imagine that it was devastating for Anthony. She wanted to support him through this grief. They would be sharing their lives together, and she was desperate to prove that she was up for helping Anthony shoulder this burden.
“There are some things that we need to speak of,” Anthony replied.
Jo nodded as she let go of Anthony. She’d barely noticed that Anthony hadn’t truly embraced her in return until she moved to take his arm and realized he hadn’t offered it to her. 
Instead, they walked separately as Anthony led them into the side gardens of the Bridgerton estate. 
“Whatever I can do to help you, Anthony, please, say the word,” Josephine told him as they moved away from the house.
“Yes, exactly,” Anthony replied as he stopped walking, turning to Jo abruptly.
“I cannot marry you.”
Jo merely stared at Anthony in shock.
“I’m so sorry, Jo, believe me, I am, I didn’t intend to string you along,” Anthony continued. “But trust me, this will be better for us both in the long run.”
Jo, for perhaps the first time in her life, did not speak. Her mouth remained uncharacteristically closed as her expression shifted from one of confusion and shock to poorly restrained sadness as she realized this wasn’t some sort of poorly executed joke, nor was it a mere deference of their inevitable marriage. 
He was throwing her off.
“One day you will thank me for this,” Anthony added.
Jo’s head had begun to shake as she still struggled to form words, her thoughts and fears prompting a loose ramble as she tried to understand what was happening.
“No, Anthony, I love you, I- I’ll wait as long as you need, I’ll be patient and when you’re ready then we can-”
“No,” Anthony stated firmly. Harsher than he’d intended to. It felt like a slap across Jo’s face. “I will never marry you.”
“But…,” Jo stuttered.
“I don’t love you,” Anthony told Jo. It was almost impossible for Anthony to get out the lie. But he needed Josephine to let him go. And this would do it. He was certain of it. Even if the barbed words scarred his own mouth as he spat them out.
It would break her heart. And his heart too. But it would save her from a lifetime of regret. From the complete and utter destruction that his mother was currently experiencing. 
She would thank him. One day. When he left this earth and she was still here.
Anthony’s mother was practically comatose. She hadn’t left her chambers since it had happened. She wouldn’t speak. Barely ate. The doctor was still unsure of whether or not the baby would live.
Anthony refused to put Jo through that. 
He loved her, so he needed to let her go.
“I have much to attend to so I will take my leave,” Anthony said as he tried not to look into Jo’s face, to be faced with her silent tears. 
“Goodbye, Jo,” He added before he turned and made his way back to Aubrey Hall, turning his back on her.
And Jo stood in the Bridgerton’s garden, watching Anthony disappear through the door before she finally felt her legs give out from under her as she fell to the ground and a sob broke through her chest.
He had never looked back.
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It was weeks later that Anthony and Jo spoke again. Josephine had tried to speak to him at Edmund’s funeral, but Anthony had resoundly ignored her. After that, she’d resigned herself to the fact that Anthony would not change his mind. Not anytime soon. And though her mother would be staying to support Violet, she insisted that Jo and her father needed to return to London. 
Jo had been out on a morning ride when she spotted Anthony out on his own early morning ride. Before it had been improper for the two of them to ride together alone, they’d frequently shared early morning rides through their families' property. 
“My father and I are returning to London, tomorrow,” Josephine called out to Anthony as she cantered her horse toward him. 
“Safe travels,” He replied with a polite nod.
“Do you have anything else you wish to say to me?” Jo asked. She didn’t hide her disbelief. She didn’t want to. And she couldn’t have if she tried. 
She and Anthony had known each other their entire lives. She’d never once expected him to ignore her. To act as if they were strangers.
“Not particularly, is there something you wish for me to say?” Anthony asked.
“No, I suppose not,” Josephine replied with a hiss. 
“Goodbye, Anthony,” She muttered before she urder her horse foward and took off back toward her house. 
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Saville House, London, 1814
“Anthony,” Jo stated as she looked up from her correspondence in surprise. She had been so focued on her letter that she’s heard her butler announce someone but hadn’t been listening to the name until she look up to see Anthony Bridgerton standing before her. “What are you doing here?” 
“Lady Wescott,” He greeted her with a small bow.
Anthony hadn’t been to Jo’s family’s London house in over ten years. Not much had changed. It was small and cozy.   
“I felt I owed you an apology,” Anthony told Jo as he stood awkwardly in the middle of he sitting room. “The things that I said yesterday were… unkind.”
“Yes,” Jo replied with a nod of agreement. “They were.”
“And I am sorry,” Anthony replied.
Jo nodded, quietly waiting for him to continue.
“You said things that were unkind as well,” Anthony added when Jo didn’t reply.
“You want me to apologize to you?” Jo asked as her eyebrows shot up.
“Well,” Anthony stammered.
“You are a ridiculous man, Anthony,” Jo replied as she shook her head in disbelief. “After everything you haven’t changed a bit.”
She should have realized that Anthony would expect an apology of his own. He could never uflly own up to his mistakes, why would he start now.
“We both said things that we regret,” Anthony reiterated.
“We? The two of us are not a unit, Anthony, you made certain of that,” Jo muttered as she pressed a hand to the top of her head. “I told you what you needed to hear.”
“We’ve both made mistakes in the past, Jo, and you know that the same as I,” Anthony replied. Why was she being so impossible? If anyone hadn’t changed since they were young, it was Jo. She could never just let things go, could she? The stubborn little minx. 
“We were both foolish and young! You expect me to believe your marriage was a happy one? That you did not regret marrying the Earl?”
“They are hardly the same thing,” Jo hissed as she stood from her desk abruptly. 
He had nearly made the same mistake last night. Trying to act as if she had thrown him over, instead of the other way around. 
“You married someone else!” Anthony shouted at her.
“Because you told me you would never marry me!”
“I had just lost my father!”
“I am keenly aware of that fact!” Jo spat at him. “I could have been patient. I told you as much. That I’d wait as long as you needed. And you told me that we could never be together. That you didn’t love me. So I apologize for not seeing how any of that has changed.”
Anthony fell silent. He’d held his breath without even realizing it as he realized he wasn’t othe only one who seemed to remember their conversations all these years later.
“I do not want to fight with you, Anthony,” Jo finally said with a deep sigh as she finally regained some semblance of calm. “We will never agree on this. That is plainly clear to me now.”
“You cannot pretend that my actions were not a direct result of yours. You forced my hand. Do not expect me to apologize for your own misgivings.” 
“I…I am sorry. At the time…” Anthony trailed off as he tried to explain his teenaged logic. “Well, I thought it was the only thing to do. And some part of you must have agreed because you listened.”
She’d married the earl a few months after they’d left. Obviously, she hadn’t truly meant it when she said she’d wait for him. 
“You broke my heart, Anthony,” Jo replies as she holds onto the back of the chair so tightly her knuckles turned white. “I had to marry. I had no choice.”
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Aubrey Parish, Kent, 1803
Her father explained to Jo why her mother had been so set on the season on the carriage ride back to London. 
Jo had a comparable dowry thanks to her mother’s inheritance, but her father’s income could not support her parents and Jo forever. 
She would have to marry. And if Anthony Bridgerton was no longer interested… well, she would have to look elsewhere. Her parents had spared no expense on her season. It would be a struggle to afford another one next year if she couldn’t find a match by the end of this one. 
When they returned to London the news of the spectacular end of Anthony Bridgerton and Josephine Saville’s courtship had already made the rounds twice over. 
The rejection of a man who was now a Viscount had left Josephine adrift. Most of the young men in London saw Anthony’s rejection of her as a final stamp on her rejection as a possible bride. She’d spent the next few weeks standing on the edges of parties and balls. A true wallflower with an empty dance card and a stormy disposition to match.
It wasn’t much later that her father introduced her to Lord Wescott. 
The wedding was set for August. In Kent at the parish church. 
The last time she had been in the church had been for Edmund Bridgerton’s funeral only two months earlier. 
The wedding felt similarly somber in Josephine’s heart.
But she couldn’t help but wonder if Anthony would attend. The Bridgertons had all been invited. Violet was still unwell. But she’d seen Benedict in town when she’d arrived and he’d told her the children would attend. Neither one of them spoke of Anthony. 
A part of her imagined that she would walk down the aisle and Anthony would burst into the church and object. 
That he would rescue her. 
Because if he had ever truly loved her? He would stop the wedding. 
But that didn’t happen. 
Josephine Saville walked down the aisle arm in arm with her father and she walked back down the aisle Lady Josephine Wescott. 
It was arm in arm with her new husband that she saw him. As they were walking down the aisle she saw him, standing in between little Eloise and Frannie, staring back at her with a polite smile, clapping along with everyone else as she set off to start her new life.
And it was in that moment that Jo’s heart well and truly broke.
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murphmurphthejerk · 1 month
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So I found Aaron Bushnell's reddit and went through his comments/posts. That young man was well read and stable as they can be. Nothing in his writings pointed to someone who was "unstable" or "brainwashed".
He held leftist and anarchist ideals. He belong to the ACAB subreddit. He recognized the evil of the US Military even though he himself was a part of it. He hated TERFS and called out fatphobia. He understood the dangers of white supremecy and the evils of capitalism.
He had a cat. He liked the show fleabag and played elden ring.
Apparently in his will he wants to leave any money in his name to palestinian relief funds. He was trying to find a new owner for his cat.
Rest in peace Aaron Bushnell. The world won't forget & we sure as fuck won't let the media paint you out to be some crazy conspiracy theorist who had no idea what he was doing.
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cafffine · 3 months
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my prof just explained on the syllabus that he’s included more points in the class than we needed to pass, so we could skip up like?? 20 small assignments/quizzes/participation!! and still get a very high grade!!
the idea was that we could focus on assignments that played to our strengths - only do the participation stuff if we like to talk out loud - only do the quizzes/readings if we want to do the class remotely - only do online discussions if we like to talk and share opinions but struggle with anxiety in class ect.
and that’s cool enough but then he pulled up DnD character sheets with drawings he’d done of these hypothetical student player classes and how our various accessibility needs could be gamified to ‘max out’ different aspects of the class to get high grades and like!!!!!
hell yeah!!!! let’s treat accessibility in higher education not just as a necessity but as the fun, engaging, and creative aspect of learning that it is!!! I love this!!
EDIT: For proper credit or further questions about his system please find my professor on twitter @/kurtishanlon
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doccywhomst · 3 months
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whaledocboi · 3 months
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ai generated images make me increasingly sad and tired the more i see them in more and more casual contexts. i dont know how to explain, but it just fills the world with a bunch of nothing. no matter how visually stunning the pictures might be, there's nothing behind it for me. no dedication, no emotions, no feelings, no hard work or creativity, nothing i can truly think about, admire or enjoy. i dont think thats how art is supposed to be
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caffeinatedopossum · 1 year
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Me when I remember something I said ages ago that was wrong or my values no longer align with
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goldiipond · 4 months
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if there's anything i've learned from the current state of social media it's that this is one of the worst possible notifications you can receive upon opening an app
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emilnikos · 3 months
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I need non autistic people to realise meltdowns are a real debilitating thing that has a serious effect on your mental and physical health NOWWWWW!!! The way its been trivialized and lessened pisses me the fuck off. It's not a tantrum and it doesn't come from "being too weak-willed" it's painful and it's embarrassing AND MOST OF ALL IT'S INVOLUNTARY!! Don't claim to be an ally to autistic or disabled people and then make fun of people who have meltdowns. Literally get the hell out of my sight
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cemeterything · 13 days
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anyone who thinks dostoevsky's writing is dry and humourless is missing out on passages like this
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 8 days
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The math just adds up!
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flowergrenades · 1 year
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*through gritted teeth* you are not a child taking a test with the purpose of getting the highest score, you are an adult trying new things and finding ways to enjoy your life, make mistakes, be a beginner, be mediocre, be where you need to be, be unlikeable, just. be.
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peterpparkrr · 1 year
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(Not) the same as it was - ch. 4 | A Bridgerton Series
Series: (Not) the same as it was
Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x OFC
Word Count: 1.4k
Summary: In 1803, Anthony and Jo say a sweet goodbye before they briefly part ways before the beginning of the rest of their lives. In 1814, Anthony and Jo hurl cruel words at one another. Words they won’t be able to take back. 
A/N: I took some time over the holidays to reset my brain and enjoy a little break from writing. Then today I realized this chapter was almost done and I just never finished and posted it? Idk man. Enjoy :)
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Hyde Park, London, 1803
Anthony and Jo were so young. Life feels so deep and real at the age of eighteen. Like adulthood and full maturity has finally reached you and therefore you must get on with the rest of your life. 
But as you get older you realize it’s not like that at all. Life isn’t a series of benchmarks or achievements ordered and timed that one must achieve. Life is a flowing river, its pace may ebb and flow, but it never stops moving, and there are unexpected twists and turns. 
Josephine’s parents had insisted that Jo spend a season out in London properly before any sort of engagement was announced. 
“You’ll appreciate this when you’re older.” Had become the saying that ruled the Saville household for the months between Christmas and the start of the social season.
And Jo didn’t mind, she liked London. 
Anthony was also in London, with his own family, and they danced as frequently as they could get away with and disappeared out into gardens or terraces when their dances were over.
And Jo had, of course, had plenty of callers. At least at the beginning of the season. As time went on it was clear that Miss Saville only had eyes for the Bridgerton heir. 
Everything was perfect. 
Jo could see the image of her future so clearly. She and Anthony would get married, take up one of the houses near their parents, and raise children together. They‘d travel to London on occasion, for Anthony's sister’s seasons, and then their own children’s. Their families would be close by (but not too close) and everything would be as it ought to be.
It felt like her whole life was falling into place. 
A life with Anthony. 
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“Mother wants to have the baby in Kent, so we’re returning home next week,” Anthony murmured as he promenaded Jo along the edge of the duck pond. 
Hyde Park was always busy around midday. With events, dinners, and balls usually in the evenings, the days of the aristocracy consisted of social calls and promenades, so Hyde Park was always teeming with people attempting to break up their days with some gentle exercise.
But Anthony and Jo had found a quiet corner of the park that was more densely populated with trees, with more foliage it was hard to be seen, so most of society avoided that corner of the park, but the Bridgerton-Saville party tended to wander that area almost exclusively.
“Oh,” Jo replies quietly. 
She’s not surprised. Anthony had told her weeks ago, before they’d even made the journey to London, that he would have to cut his time short, with his mother heavily pregnant with her eighth child she would want to return home to Kent and give birth in the familiar location, not in London.
Jo had tried to convince her own parents to cut their season short as well and return to Kent with the Bridgertons, but Jo’s mother had been firm in her desire to see her daughter experience a full season as a debutante. And so the Savilles would stay. 
And Jo knows everything will be fine, little will change for her and Anthony in the span of a month or two, but she knows she’ll miss him, more than anything, and that the luster of the season will quickly dissipate without him to share in it with her.
“I’ll be back in a few weeks,” He’s quick to reassure her. “Father has agreed to let me and Ben stay with Aunt Georgie and Uncle Nicholas when they come to London in May.”
Jo grins. Anthony’s Aunt Georgiana is possibly Jo’s favorite Bridgerton, and she’s technically a Rokesby. 
And he glanced behind you to see his mother and Jo’s own distracted by some other mama they knew and swooped down to press a chaste kiss to her lips. 
“I love you,” Anthony murmurs against her lips before pulling away from her.
“I love you too,” Jo replies with a wide smile.
“I shouldn’t say anything, I hate to ruin the surprise, but I don’t think it’s very much of a secret,” He tells you. “I thought you ought to know that I’ll be bringing a ring back with me.”
“Yes?” Jo asks, trying to school her expression into something calm, though an excited smile slips out before she can help herself.
“I think I’ll have a very important question to ask you when I return,” Anthony teases as he squeezes Jo’s left hand.
“Well then, I should probably start considering my answer,” Jo replies sarcastically as she giggles at his unamused expression.
“I won’t dance with anyone else until you come back,” Jo promises solemnly.
“You can dance with whomever you like,” Anthony replies. “Just don’t fall in love with anyone else.”
“I promise,” Jo vowed solemnly as she held tight to Anthony’s hand.
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And as infuriating as it was. She hadn’t. 
When Josephine met the Earl of Crawford and Balcarres, the man who would eventually become her husband, it was clear from the beginning that neither one was inclined to fall in love. 
It wasn’t until things with Anthony truly ended that Josephine paid any consideration to the Earl’s suit.
The widowed Earl, Lord Charles Wescott, needed someone to run his household and perhaps pop out a spare heir or two. He already had an adult son from his first marriage, a boy about the same age as Jo. His beloved wife had died some years earlier and though his grief had not fully resolved itself, he was expected to uphold a certain standard of life, a standard he was unable to maintain on his own. 
The sympathy of his friends had begun to wane in recent months. They’d lightly offered the suggestion that he should remarry. 
That he ought to find an agreeable, pretty young girl from this year’s stock of debutantes and make her his new wife. Someone to care for him as he aged and run his household for him. 
He’d refused at first. The mere consideration felt like an affront to Lydia’s memory. But as the months continued to drag on Charles found himself longing for a sense of companionship. It would not be the same, but it would give him someone to share his life with. 
Josephine needed to marry. She was the only child of her parents but she was still a woman and could not inherit the lands. Her family was comfortable, but she was far from being an heiress and could not live on her annual income alone for the rest of her life.
And though he was twice her age, the Earl was kind to her. He treated her with respect and seemed to actually care to know what she thought. 
He made no pretense that he was in love with her. His affections were platonic. But he promised to care for her. 
And at the time it had seemed to be the best deal she’d been offered.
Josephine had, perhaps naively, hoped that she could learn to love one another. But that seemed to be wishful thinking to cover the ache in her heart after she and Anthony had fallen apart.
There may not have been love, but Jo had been content with her life in Scotland. Contrary to popular belief she had enjoyed the quietness of her new life, she found herself envying the Scottish spitfire and found that in the bone-chilling cold weather, she endured for half the year she felt less desire to go out or really do anything besides sit by the fire and read. 
Josephine hosted parties. As the Earl, her husband had certain duties, and while her husband was rarely in attendance for very long, Jo made friends among her fellow northern lords and ladies. 
She found she had very little to complain about. Her husband provided her with a good life, it was more than many women in her situation received. She was lucky. 
In her marriage she found a relationship born out of respect, she had found a companion who cared for her, was never cruel, always gentle and kind.
But when Charles died it was like the fog lifted. She had lived ten years of her life with him (with being a generous term) and she had nothing to show for it. No children. No home. No accomplishments. Some grief, but just that for the loss of her friend.
The man she had shared a bed with for ten years had still, in many ways, been a stranger to her when he passed.
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Bridgerton House, London, 1814
Jo tried to wipe the thoughts of what might have been from her mind as she entered the Bridgerton’s home on this warm spring afternoon.
“Oh!” Jo exclaimed in surprise as she entered the drawing room expecting Violet and Daphne only to find Anthony sitting at the table. 
“Jo,” Anthony says as he looks up from the paper in his hands.
“Anthony….I um, your mother and sister… well,” Jo stammers as she glances around a bit helplessly.
She hadn’t been alone with him, properly alone since they’d reacquainted themselves at the beginning of this season. The last time they’d been alone had been when everything had fallen apart. And the sting of that memory could be felt in Jo’s eyes as well as her heart as she stood helplessly in the Bridgerton’s drawing room. 
“Mother has gotten far more conniving in the last few years,” Anthony replies with a sigh. “She plots now,” He adds as if it explains something.
“Oh?” Jo asks.
“Yes, I imagine this is one of her matchmaking plans,” Anthony says.
“I see, you think your mother wants us to reconcile our childhood affections,” 
“Childhood affections? Is that what we’re calling it?”
Every fortune hunter was eager to tip his cap to the beautiful widow, but she certainly did not need to marry if she did not want to. Anthony knew that. That even though he felt the same pull to Jo that he had felt before, she did not need to marry him and she clearly did not want to.
Whatever it was that they’d once had was long gone. Lost to the same place that had stolen his childish naïveté. 
“Yes, I do not know who you are anymore,” Jo replied. “Viscount Anthony Bridgerton has always been a stranger to me.”
“I could say the same for you,” Anthony replied“You have changed insurmountably since our youth.” 
“And not for the better.”
“Our circumstances had their effects on us both, I certainly shall not deny it. But I did what I had to. I will not apologize for that. What excuse can you offer?”
“My father died,” “I became the Viscount to an estate at eighteen years old. I became responsible for my mother and siblings while I was still a child myself.” 
“Yes, yes, trust me, I am well aware of the grief that still holds you,” “But you cannot use it as a crutch to avoid your emotions, not forever.”
“Do you want me to wallow? To flounder and break? How would that benefit you? I am seriously asking. Because you seem to see what I have become as vindication of your choices. So I hope you’re pleased with them. Because I can assure you I am not,” Jo replied sharply, her voice cracking with emotion as she said that last sentence.
She straightened slightly as she tried to regain her countenance. 
“Tell your mother and sister that I felt unwell and returned home to rest. We will have to go another day.”
“Has Josephine not arrived yet?” Violet asks as she whisks into the drawing room a few minutes later. Pulling her gloves on as she looks around expectantly.
“Your plan did not succeed as you had hoped,” Anthony replies without fully looking up from the paper in his hands. Though he hadn’t read a single word of it in the last few minutes since he’d picked it up again. Josephine’s words still rang in his ears.
“What plan?” Violet asks.
“You might as well have locked me and Jo in a closet together, you’re really not as subtle as I thought you were,” Anthony replied.
“Not everything is a plot against you, Anthony,” Violet replies with a sigh. “I was supposed to promenade with Josephine and your sister Daphne, but we got held up with the planning for the ball, I did not realize you’d be in here.”
“Oh,” Anthony replied a bit dumbly.
Violet Bridgerton sighed.
“What happened?” 
“I didn’t say anything hurtful to her,” Anthony replied. But he was so obviously defensive that it wasn’t hard for Violet to pick up on the fact that he had upset her. And that he knew it.
“No, we can get to what happened this afternoon later, what happened between the two of you?” Violet replies. 
“What do you mean? She married someone else,” Anthony says. 
Violet shoots her eldest son a look he’d gotten well acquainted with in the last ten years. 
“I’ve known Josephine my entire life, she has never been cruel, and she was in love with you, so why would she marry someone else?” She asks him.
“Because I told her to! Is that what you want me to admit, mother? I knew I could never make her happy, and so I let her go,” Anthony spat at his mother. His anger was not directed at her but at himself. At the world. At the unfairness of life and the unpredictability of it all. Of life and death. And how a healthy man who loved his family could be alive and well one day and gone the next.  
“I gave her a chance at happiness because I loved her, and I knew being married to me would only give her the opposite.”
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cephalopod-celabrator · 4 months
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J. K. Rowling and Neil Gaiman are such a funny contrast to me, like Rowling: Oh, and by the way, I put gay characters in my books. People: Is there anything... showing that? Rowling: No. Also trans women don't deserve respect People: wtf Gaiman: Here are some immortals that transcend all human concepts of gender and attraction who use a variety of pronouns, and also some clearly canon human queers. People: Are the immortals queer? Gaiman: That is an entirely valid way to view them. Other people: Ugh, pushing a modern woke agenda. It used to be- Gaiman: Fuck you
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snaxle · 8 months
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i am not calling twitter fucking x
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brown-spider · 9 months
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Making jokes about Noir being colorblind/not understanding colors is how we cope with how unbelievably powerful his brain is
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stuckinapril · 2 months
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guys i actually beg of you to not let palestine become an unpleasant flashback, a transient tumblr trend, a hasbeen subject that just faded away. as an arab—and specifically iraqi—girl, i know what it feels like to have family displaced all over the world as a result of western imperialism. i know what it feels like to not be able to step foot into your homeland because it’s no longer safe. as an american iraqi, raised in the us and insulated from my roots, it wasn’t until last summer that i was able to visit iraq for the first time, and even then my family was worried for my safety—in my own blood country. although nothing like what palestinians are experiencing right now, it might be the tiniest semblance of what it feels like to watch your country disintegrate in front of you.
and this is a universal arab experience. i volunteer weekly at a refugee center that serves middle eastern refugees, and every day i see the longing in their eyes when they speak of where they hail from. it’s safe to say that we will be getting a wave of palestinian refugees very soon: just another generation of arabs who can’t inhabit their own country.
arab culture is so rich, so profound, so beautiful. i am tired of being told by the world—through literal genocide—that it doesn’t mean anything. please never let this be forgotten. free palestine. free palestine. free palestine.
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