zora
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Post by zora on Nov 1, 2022 23:26:39 GMT
today's total: 1,306 total so far: 1,306
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zora
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Tag me @genevieve
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Post by zora on Nov 1, 2022 23:16:33 GMT
"How, exactly, did you think that having an affair would help our marriage?"
If one told Genevieve five years ago that she’d be married to a Bridgerton she’d have laughed at their face and asked them how in the world they thought the most influential family’s second son could marry a modiste, but she would have been wrong to ask that in more ways than one. In the choice of a Bridgerton in particular. Ever since the family’s second daughter showed interest in her, even thinking of her being able to be Lady Whistledown Genevieve’s focus shifted from romance to business and it stayed like that for months, and then years. Years spent listening to Eloise talking so passionately about reforms and essays, about ideas. About how superficial the ton’s ideals were, about how she wanted more for herself, and soon she sparked a wish in Genevieve for her to be the one to give her that more. To let herself be the one who allows her brightness to shine and for the first time ever to let her own self be vulnerable, to let somebody in. To let ger close and to, for the first time in her life, to trust.
Now, though, she knew better. The long blonde hair on their pillows were the first clue, but now she found the love letters too, and Genevieve could not pretend that everything was fine any longer no matter how hard she tried. “Don’t even attempt to start, El. Don’t.” Genevieve had waited for her to come home from wherever she was. At a rally, that’s what she was told, but how could she possibly believe her now? Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. “I’m sure you’ll have a perfectly good explanation for these, won’t you?” Gen pointed at the letters on the bed, looking up at her wife, not beating around the bush one bit. “I’m certain you’ll find a perfect excuse, full of reason and logic, spin this around to make it all seem just right. So spare me the pleasantries and just tell me, Eloise. How, exactly, did you think that having an affair would help our marriage?"
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zora
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Tag me @genevieve
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Post by zora on Nov 1, 2022 22:46:31 GMT
Lucy and Gen were busy enjoying marital bliss, even though the marriage in question wasn’t between the two of them and the bed they just turned into a mess of silken sheets had been one the lady of the house was supposed to be sharing with her husband, not the modiste. Lucy had fallen asleep in Gen’s arms despite the ton’s most depraved bunch wreaking havoc downstairs, somehow able to apparently drown out the sounds of drinking and cheering. They were sounds of happiness, of freedom – unlike the noises coming from what seemed to be just next door to them. Sounds Genevieve simply couldn’t let Lucy hear, much less wake up to. So she gently pushed her aside and covered her with a soft blanket, rearranging the pillows around her, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, placing a soft kiss on her forehead before heading out, begrudgingly standing in front of the door that separated her from the apparent war going on in Henry’s chambers.
Silence – as soon as Genevieve entered the room, two pairs on eyes settling on her. “Excusez-moi.” She offered Wetherby a soft smile, her hand reassuringly squeezing his arm as he made his way past her. She couldn’t have possibly imagined what was going on in this room, but years of dealing with proper and posh ladies have thought her just how to see past the façade and look at what was really going on in people’s heads. Henry was never easy to read, but on a night like this, after a discussion as heated as the one she just walked into… Gen didn’t need to be an empath to figure out what was going on. “For me, perhaps. And for you… only if you promise me to not act in haste tonight, Henry.” Making her way over towards him, she fished two glasses out of their usual spot. “I cannot lie to you and say I didn’t at least suspect what I was walking into, but… there have been times when I wished somebody would stop me. The things we say, we often cannot take back.”
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zora
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Post by zora on Nov 1, 2022 21:53:11 GMT
Ever since the fifth Bridgerton had found out about the extent on Genevieve’s involvement with the whole Lady Whistledown ordeal, Gen found herself being more involved with the Bridgerton family she had thought possible for months now. Especially with her and Ben’s relationship, or whatever it was, coming to a standstill and eventually falling apart… as she knew it should, but she still found herself unable, or even unwilling, to forget. He was still on her mind and so very stubbornly in her way as well – it seemed as though he was there whenever she walked the streets of London, whenever she visited Henry and Lucy, whenever she came over to the Bridgerton estate for an at home fitting. These were all places he often frequented, of course, but Gen wasn’t quite ready to confront herself with the fact that she might have been searching him out on purpose. Or that all those questions about him she bothered Eloise with were just a part of making polite conversation. The feeling of one’s art being rejected was one Genevieve was sadly all too familiar with and when she learned about Ben’s unfortunate circumstances about getting into the academy she couldn’t help but seek him out again. Not on purpose, of course – she just happened to be at a fitting and just happened to walk past his wing. She just happened to knock on the door after she heard he had not come out for days. In the moments that passed as she waited for an answer it felt as though previous couple of months had never happened – as though her heart was his again and so it broke along with him. “Benedict. I’ve heard… I’m worried about you. It’s been a while, but…” The modiste was not often at a loss for words, but when it came to Ben, her world got turned upside down.
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Post by zora on Nov 1, 2022 21:33:11 GMT
romantic tension --- for @lucy Being with Lucy had felt like reading a forbidden book, holding back to really soak in every word but wanting to consume it all at once. She was a gentle breeze in the eye of the storm – a safe haven Genevieve knew she couldn’t stay in forever but basked in in fullness whenever she could manage to steal her away from the world and take her for herself. A Lady who carved her own way in her own way, gained her respect that with time grew into something much, much more. Lucy wasn’t Gen’s to keep, but she was determined to steal every moment she possibly could with her, no matter how small and insignificant it might seem.
Seeing her outside of one of the parties in her home felt strange in the best way possible, and even though they were just a modiste and her client at a fitting to anybody else who could have walked into her atelier at any moment, a secret yearning and memories of their evenings together was burning inside of Genevieve so vividly she had to focus on her needlework to not let an improper gesture slip. Or an improper word, even – so she remained politely quiet, shaping the fabrics cautiously, making them fit to the figure she knew all too well. “Allow me to take a closer look, Madame Granville.” She moved a few steps back, trying desperately to focus on her work, but her eyes kept drifting over the woman’s face – and that one tempting curl resting over her gentle features. “Beautiful.” Unable to hold herself back, Gen reached out, her fingers wrapping tenderly around the loose curl, fixing in behind Lucy’s ear… and lingering. For far more than she should… lingering.
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Post by zora on Nov 1, 2022 20:13:12 GMT
joining in with my own humble goal of 20,000 words!!!!
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zora
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Post by zora on Nov 1, 2022 17:32:36 GMT
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Post by zora on Oct 31, 2022 22:39:57 GMT
D—-don’t make me moan, I don’t want anyone to catch us...
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Post by zora on Oct 31, 2022 22:05:07 GMT
If you told Gen just months ago that multiple Bridgerton siblings would be in her store after closing hours, she would have been more than confused… but now it all seemed to make strange sense. If she had learned anything from her fittings with Eloise it was that she was inquisitive and insatiably curious, and Genevieve couldn’t blame her for any of these things. She, in fact, saw more of herself in her than she was willing to admit, pushing aside the shock of accusations the young Bridgerton was throwing at her and making way for something that could only be described as mutual respect. But throughout their whole conversation she simply could not forget about the fact that Ben was surely lurking about, hanging on their every word. It would be unfair to blame him for that, but she just knew she won’t be able to resist at least teasing him for it.
His words, his expression… Genevieve wished she could imprint it in her mind forever. His feigned sternness and the inevitable goofy smile, the playfulness that pulled her towards him like a magnet. “Bossing me around, Monsieur Bridgerton?” Gen only used his last name when she was teasing him, unable to resist matching his energy as she walked towards the door, circling the knob before very obviously not doing what she way told and making her way towards him. “Look at you, eavesdropping on my private conversations. Making me regret I didn’t tie you to the bed while I had the chance to, Cherie?” His presence was intoxicating, pulling her closer and closer until she found herself pressed against his chest.
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Post by zora on Oct 31, 2022 21:31:25 GMT
Benedict Bridgerton and Sophie Bennet have been the talk of the ton for days if not weeks now and it had been impossible for Gen to escape all of the whispers and speculations around their situation, but so far the alleged couple kept their distance from her, even when it came to fashion affairs. She wished she could say it didn’t bother her at all, that it didn’t sting whenever she laid her eyes on him at an odd party or social occasion and made haste to not be noticed by him as well. It felt silly to avoid him as though they were still teenagers, but the way they left things didn’t really allow for anything else, not for her at least. If she had to talk to him, she did, and she was pleasant and polite. She smiled and bowed, but her home visits to the Bridgerton estate have never been as relaxed as they were before she ran into Ben at Henry’s that one faithful night. If there was one thing Gen was terrible at dealing with it was the past so she had simply pushed it away, like she pushed him away, and for years now it felt like she truly managed to forget about him.
But now… now, he was back. And not just back on her mind – back at her door, looking so distant and foreign to her when she opened the door in her night gown, expecting one of her friends. Who else would visit her hours after closing time? He was the last person she was expecting, and for a couple of moments, she couldn’t even utter a word. Even when she composed herself she kept on tripping over her own words, unable to find that polite self she fronted around him ever since they broke them, whatever they were, off. “Ben- Monsieur Bridgerton, a moment. I was not… I was not expecting a visit. Just one moment, I am…” She gestured at her dress, or lack there off before realizing that was probably the worst thing she could have done and closed the door, almost slamming them in his face. Dressing up meticulously wasn’t an option, but she didn’t rush nearly as much as she could have, knowing she had to compose her thoughts and not make a fool of herself… more than she already had done, at least. After putting on a simple dress and downing a glass of liquid courage Genevieve took a couple deep breaths, and then a couple more… before opening the door again, hoping that he’d get tired of waiting and leave. She should have known better – Benedict was a patient man. “Apologies, Monsieur Bridgerton.” A proper welcome. Polite, kind. Cold. “What can I assist you with this evening?”
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zora
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Tag me @genevieve
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Post by zora on Oct 31, 2022 20:39:55 GMT
confrontations --- for @eloisebridgerton The first time she confronted her Eloise Bridgerton made it crystal clear to Genevieve that she wasn’t the one to back down when she was convinced she was right. She wasn’t, though – not the first time she barged into the modiste’s and subtly asked all the right questions Genevieve simply did not have the answers for. At the time, at least. Ever since she advised Penelope about her dilemma she had a haunting suspicion her charming talk with Eloise was bound to get a sequel, and though she found the young Bridgerton exceptionally bright and promising, she would have preferred to not be close to her at all until passions settle and they all cool their heads enough to properly reassess the situation. She realized when the door to her shop opened that that sentiment wasn’t shared.
“Miss Bridgerton, s'il vous plait!” She really should have listened to Ben’s advice and lock the door, but it was too late now. Genevieve took a deep breath – she understood her anger and couldn’t blame her for her emotions, but an angry Eloise wasn’t something she’d prefer to have in her store with potential customers lurking about. “Is making accusations towards me truly how you wish to go about this? And is there no middle ground between being cautiously subtle and crude?” A small smile, just to not cause a scene, to shelter what was really going on between them from curious eyes from the street. The tall windows were terrific for displaying dresses, but less convenient when it came to personal business.
“As I’ve told you before, Lady Whistledown is more than capable of handling herself – but so are you.” She offered her a stern look, ready to shut down whatever she wanted to tell her, ready to defend herself, to once again lie her way out of a mess the circumstances have left her in… but there was something about Eloise that simply did not let her do that. Gen sighed, placing her hand on her forehead, voice calm and soft to at least somewhat diffuse the situation. “If I did have some answers to give you… I’d only be willing to give them if you’d be willing to listen. Are you, Miss Eloise?”
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Post by zora on Oct 31, 2022 20:04:47 GMT
The Granville parties had always been the one place in London where it didn’t matter in the slightest what ones title or reputation was, where customs and traditions flew out the window and were replaced by uninhibited passion and riveting conversation. They were a world where everything that mattered elsewhere proved pointless and all meaningless things found their place – a world which Genevieve Delacroix thrived in. They often served to clear her head and left her feeling more free than she ever did, but ever since she ran into a certain somebody it was as though the night she spent with him and Lucy was following her around in little intrusive thoughts she simply could not shake.
Nobles like Benedict Bridgerton have often made a habit of visiting these parties once, getting their itch scratched and not showing their face there again, perhaps for the fear of getting found out. She figured he would be the same as them, but when she caught his tall figure approaching him, her suspicions were proven to be true. He wasn’t like them, like the rest of the ton. It was hidden right behind his eyes along with a premonition that if she looks at them for too long she’ll get burned… but Genevieve already couldn’t look away. “Miss Delacroix has never and never will attend these parties, Monsieur Bridgerton. She’s far too respected to be seen anywhere close to this… debauchery.” Her smile mischievously matched his, her curious eyes searching across his face for clues. “Genevieve.” She raised up her hand in an elegant gesture, tilting her head.
“I should certainly hope so. Gentleman such as yourself often do not return, so I took it upon myself to make a good first impression. I suppose I have succeeded, non?” Something about Benedict was positively radiant. Genevieve was a direct woman whenever she felt it safe to do so, and here, amongst these people, she felt the safest.
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Post by zora on Oct 31, 2022 17:24:28 GMT
genevieve delacroix 'a free woman' i refuse to live a life i do not choose modiste | friend | lover | temptress | liar | businesswoman » Ongoing Threads --- » Active memes --- » Completed Threads --- » Abandoned Threads --- i refuse to choose a life in which i do not live
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Tag me @genevieve
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Post by zora on Oct 31, 2022 11:17:37 GMT
As an artist, Ben had the ability to recreate the world around him – to paint the images and embroider them with emotions, to mirror reality that would somehow make it even more honest than it was to the naked eye. He knew that, at least somewhat and sometimes, as much as his self-doubt allowed it. But what he did not know was that on Genevieve, he had quite the opposite effect. He made the world around them disappear. She blamed it on the wine at first, but as the night progressed and she sobered up, as the sun began stretching her first rays over the horizon and her head cleared, the party dying down around them was still a blur. Far from a drunken haze, distorted vision. It was him – he blinded her in a way that felt almost dangerous, but way too bright and inviting to even consider backing away.
“Come, mon cheri. You’ve been kept from your noble obligations for far too long. Duty calls, does it not?” She teased him, looking around to see most people either leaving or asleep. Without even thinking about it she intertwined her fingers with his, guiding him outside, a carefree smile dancing over her lips when she pushed the main door open to let the morning sun caress her smooth skin, closing her eyes, pulling him closer to her. “I love London at this time. Still asleep, peaceful and quiet. It's so beautiful. I wish I could freeze it and never let it go.” A small giggle escaped her parted lips as she still held onto him, basking in the moment.
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Post by zora on Oct 31, 2022 10:44:53 GMT
breaking our patterns --- for Benedict Bridgerton Returning to London after spending some time in France had been anything but easy for more reasons than she could possibly count. She wasn’t planning on coming back and slipping right back into her usual routine – in a sense, she wasn’t planning to come back at all. The designs she had submitted to Paris’ most respected house of fashion had been rejected and though a part of her was expecting just that she couldn’t help but feel cheated out of an opportunity she had worked so very hard to earn. Hard work was never something she shied away from, but she was well aware that in the past social season, she found herself in the hands of some… distractions. Or to be completely honest, one distraction in particular.
Letting loose at London’s secret parties had never been a problem before and nor was it now – they served her well, emptying her head and providing inspiration. They were a matter of the night, and when they ended so did her thoughts about them. Her thoughts about him persisted, though, and without knowing or intending to he snuck his way into her work, painting her mind and her garments blue, making her cuts and lines more daring – but her art wasn’t like his. Fashion was very much bound by the rules of society, even though Benedict Bridgerton wasn’t. Her art had to come first. She had to come first – so the only thing she could do was push him out.
If only it weren’t so damned hard to do so. When she ran into him at Eloise’s fabric choosing on the Bridgerton estate she could barely look into his eyes and a part of her hoped that would tell him all he needed to know. Yet it felt just like turning the page for her as well, when their book needed to be closed. She was left scrambling to find the right words to end the prologue. “Monsieur Bridgerton.” A letter she sent him was brief, telling him to come to her shop just after closing hours. She had sent her apprentice out to fetch some fabrics, ensuring them al least some privacy, but gathered the tall windows of her store would grant her distance from him – distance she dreaded, but knew she needed. “Thank you for taking the time to see me.”
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