That was pretty good, yes. But if you feel like it needed to be hornier, your lovely voice would be an upgrade. I'll even paint you a scene.
You've just come home, and you noticed the door was ajar. Did you forget to close it? Or lock it? Nervously, you roll inside, closing and locking the door behind you. And that's your first mistake, because I'm already in the house with you.
As you roll into your bedroom to get your shoes off and relax, you have only a moment to see a dark shape flit across your mirror, before it's gone. But it's so hard to turn around in the chair, especially since you locked the wheels. Which was your last mistake.
It only takes me a moment. A few quick steps, and down over your eyes comes the glasses, and down over your ears comes the headphones. I've been priming you for weeks with the idea of it, reblogging hypnosis stuff at you, sending you anons unsigned. So that your mind believes it can work, which is all I need, because you want this, deep down. I'm just going to show you how.
A babble of voices, a low pulsing tone, the sound overwhelms your thoughts. Girls telling you to stop, to be dumb, to let go, to drool your mind away. The goggles show you captivating shapes, and images of girls serving their Masters in ecstasy. In the moments of confusion after I put it on, I've already duct-taped your arms to the chair. You're stuck. It's only a matter of time.
Slowly, the voices wear away your mind. The tones hollow you out. The images promise such pleasure if you just let go and become what you were always meant to be. A thing for my use. Only worried about my pleasure, and getting yours from serving mine.
Your mouth slips open. Your eyes glaze over. Drool drips out over your tits, leaving a pool as I cut away your top. Sensation worms its' way into your brain, as I put vibrating clamps on your nipples, which pulse in time with the other things eroding you.
And finally, the program does its' job, and when the voices tell you to let go and cum your brains out, you do, literally, and what's left of your mind and will, it gushes out of your holes, leaving a puddle for you to sit in as you await my first command.
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I just watched the BBC's North and South miniseries again last night, and I have a bone to pick about Mr. Bell. I really liked his character, he was interesting and witty, and unlike any other character in the series I think. I liked the way he played devil's advocate and got in everyone's business, it was fun. I would probably have issue with him as a person, but I loved him as a character.
EXCEPT: having watched the series before, I knew that toward the end he was going to imply having feelings for Margaret, and say he considered proposing to her once upon a time (specifically planning to wait until after her parents' death, which adds an extra level of 😳😖). Knowing that just made him feel vaguely icky and creepy through the whole series. 🤢
And then in scrolling through the tag, @thatscarletflycatcher reminded me that he never even remotely hinted at that in the book! He was just an eccentric dude who cared for his goddaughter in a very normal fatherly way! WHY did the miniseries do that??
AU. Yet one more variation on the 'Margaret has no living relation who might take care of her after her father's death' scenario.
A North and South ficlet. John/Margaret.
Margaret was distantly aware of being spoken to – very softly and kindly, as one would with a child – yet she could not seem to make sense of the words addressed to her.
Above all, she felt so very tired; worn in body and mind alike, as if aged well beyond her years in the space of a fortnight. She was all alone in the world now; all her relations, everyone she had ever cared for, they were with their Maker now.
“It was Edith’s dearest wish, always,” Henry Lennox pleaded earnestly, clasping her trembling hand between his own. “And the solemn commitment I gave to your aunt as she lay on her deathbed.”
Margaret shivered, as if Death itself had just walked past her, and swiftly snatched her hand away from Henry’s grasp.
“No,” she heard herself speak in faltering tones, which sounded nothing like her own. “I know you mean well, Henry, but I – cannot.”
“Margaret, my dear,” Mr Bell intervened, his voice and manners laced with heartfelt commiseration for her plight. “I won’t pretend to even remotely understand the magnitude of your loss. However, we must think of securing your future – Mr Lennox here is acting with your best interests in mind, and as your legal guardian it is my duty to strongly advise you in favour of accepting his application.”
“Sorry to interrupt, Miss,” came Dixon’s familiar timbres, like a lifeline to reel Margaret out of troubled waters. “There’s Mr and Mrs Thornton come to see you – I told them now was not a good time, but they insisted I took the message to you.”
“Show them in, Dixon,” she replied with sudden animation, braving the disapproval of both gentlemen at having their plans for her immediate future thus disrupted, and by a mere tradesman no less. “You see, Mr Bell, there is no need for me to marry Henry – I have friends here in Milton, they will assist me in finding a suitable situation.”
“You would consider seeking employment rather than consenting to be my wife?” Henry seethed with indignation. “I cannot, I will not allow you to dishonour the memory of your aunt and cousin in so careless a manner.”
“There shall be no need for Miss Hale to seek employment of any kind,” Mrs Thornton stated with a touch of asperity as she preceded her son into the room, her chin raised in that imperious manner Margaret was well enough acquainted with by now. “I gave my word to Mrs Hale that I would care for her daughter as if she were my own, and I intend to honour that promise.”
In the general bewilderment that followed, Margaret was only aware of an overwhelming sense of relief and gratitude. The ghost of a smile, pale and quivering, touched her lips and then was gone, unnoticed by all save Mr Thornton – his eyes meeting hers for just a moment, before they each averted their gaze.
“Very well,” Mr Bell conceded at length, albeit reluctantly. “If that is what Margaret wishes, she shall have her way – for now, at least.”
Henry bowed very formally, then quit the room without so much as a farewell. Margaret leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and allowed herself to be fully consumed by her grief once more.
.
“Does it ever get better?” The question slipped out without any conscious decision on her part; had there been any room left within herself for anything but her sorrow, she would have wished the words back the moment they left her lips.
Mrs Thornton sighed, and put her embroidery work to one side. “In some ways, it does. Employment is the best medicine in such cases as these, Miss Hale. Besides, I had John and Fanny to think of – grieving is a luxury a mother can seldom afford, and the circumstances of my husband’s passing made it even more imperative for me to work hard every moment of the day to provide for them.”
“Your son and daughter do you credit, Mrs Thornton,” Margaret murmured with quiet conviction, fingers poised on her needlework; she knew she was doing a very poor job of it, her hands made clumsy by her fatigued mind and soul. “My mother, she also had a son, Frederick – he put himself in danger for her sake, and it was all my fault for encouraging it. He is lost to me now, and I have no reason – oh, if poor Papa could hear me now, he would scarcely know me for his daughter.”
“There is always a reason,” Mrs Thornton corrected her, her faith immovable as mountains. “I know of your interest for the poor in Princeton – perhaps that is your calling in life, after all. And perhaps in time you might find a good man more suited to you; someone you might wish to marry, and bear his children besides.”
A now familiar feeling of regret stirred in Margaret’s chest, buried deep amid her many grievances. “You are kind; children are a blessing, to be sure, yet one I will never know for myself. I have long made my peace with that,” she added, sensing that Mrs Thornton was about to argue the point.
“Have faith, Miss Hale,” Mrs Thornton admonished her instead, picking up her work once more. “It is not for us to question God’s plans on us.”
.
“Is it so very bad?” she dared to ask of Mr Thornton, once his mother and sister had announced their intention of retiring for the night. Mrs Thornton had looked as if she was about to protest the impropriety of Margaret lingering behind with her son without anyone to play chaperone, but in the end, she had merely shaken her head and wished them both a good night.
“I’m afraid it is, Miss Hale,” Mr Thornton acknowledged with something akin to resignation. “Nothing short of a miracle could save the mill now. You need not worry for your future – I will see to it that you are taken care of, and Mr Bell will of course be happy to assist me in such an endeavour.”
Margaret hesitated, wary of revealing the full extent of her prior indiscretion. In the end, her concern for his wellbeing won out over her natural reserve, and she pressed on regardless of how this might sink her even further in his opinion. “Mr Thornton, I beg you to understand it was never my intention to listen in on a private conversation between your mother and yourself; but if there truly is anything that could be done to prevent the shutting of the mill, I urge you to consider it.”
Mr Thornton went perfectly still, the lines on his face hardening in one of his stern frowns. “Miss Hale, perhaps you are not aware of the exact terms of Mr Latimer’s business proposition; you have once accused me of thinking only in terms of buying and selling, but in truth, both my conscience and my honour prevent me from offering marriage to a young lady of good family for material considerations alone.”
“Oh,” was all the response Margaret was capable of summoning. Somehow, in all the months she had spent as a guest in his home, it had not occurred to her that he would likely soon marry, as was only natural for a man of his age and position in life. “Miss Latimer is – quite accomplished, from what I have heard. She would make a very good wife, I think – better than most, I dare say.”
“I am sure of that,” Mr Thornton conceded with a small, self-deprecating half-smile. “Just as I am sure you, Miss Hale, will understand my repugnance towards entering a marriage without the smallest hint affection on my part.”
Margaret’s face fell, and she struggled to hold back her tears. “I am sorry,” she breathed at length, wishing she could open her heart to him, as he had once done with her. She knew she could not have accepted him back then, just as he would never again offer for her now that his affections were but a thing of the past; it still seemed cruel that those tender feelings had all been for nothing, and that they were destined to love past each other right from the beginning.
“Do not be,” he told her, his voice and manner as kindly as he always was with her. “It is for the best. I count myself fortunate that I have no wife who is to suffer from my personal failures. I will see that Mother and Fanny are taken care of, of course – Mr Watson might offer for her yet, and if she was willing to have him before, I can see no objection to her marrying to secure her own future now.”
“You are a good man, Mr Thornton,” Margaret smiled, somewhat wistfully, tucking her feelings away where they would not risk offending him. “I trust you will get your just reward someday.”
.
Miss Thornton’s wedding was a much more subdued affair than the bride herself would have preferred it to be; still, she looked more radiant than ever in the bridal gown Mr Thornton had had made especially for the occasion, and perfectly happy in her choice of a husband.
In all the whirlwind of preparations, Margaret’s mind had often drifted to Edith’s wedding, and it was with a heavy heart she now accepted Mr Thornton’s arm as they prepared to leave the church. In three days’ time, Mr Bell would come to collect her; she would leave Milton for good, never to be back again.
“I beg your pardon, Miss Hale,” Mr Thornton excused himself, as if overcome with some strong emotion. “My mother will be glad to see you home, I am sure.”
“Of course,” she nodded, head bowed in something akin to despair. If only she had not been seen out with Fred that evening – but no, she could not blame the loss of his regard on that incident alone; the harsh manner of her rejection surely had seen to it, and besides, she did not have a penny to her name that might aid him in his current circumstances.
“Thank God Fanny is taken care of,” she heard him whisper to himself, even as she tore herself from his side.
.
“An express came for you from London this morning, Miss Hale,” Mrs Thornton informed her once the wedding breakfast was over, and the new Mrs Watson finally packed into the carriage that would take her and her husband to their wedding trip. “It is from Mr Lennox.”
“Henry can have nothing to say to me which has not been said already,” Margaret stated mutinously, and made no move to open the letter. “I could not accept him before, and I most certainly will not accept him now.”
“Surely you must see that your chances of happiness with him would be as fair as with any other man,” Mr Thornton pointed out, as calm and collected as he ever was. “And his prospects are good, you said so yourself.”
“What are his prospects to me?” Margaret snapped, pushed at last past the limit of her endurance. “If you think material considerations would sway my decision on such matters, then you do not know me at all, Mr Thornton.”
“I do beg your pardon,” he seemed to deflate all at once, his hand coming to rub tiredly across his face. “It has been a tiresome day, and there is still more paperwork that needs to be seen to before Mr Bell comes to inspect his properties.”
“Miss Hale has been a great help with the household ledgers, John,” Mrs Thornton cut in, much to everyone's amazement. “She’s very sharp with numbers, I will give her that – perhaps she might be willing to assist you, if it is not too much trouble?”
“Of course,” Margaret agreed, almost despite herself. “If Mr Thornton does not mind my meddling in his personal business, that is?”
“It will not be my business for much longer,” Mr Thornton replied slowly, his brow furrowed in no small confusion. His mother bore his piercing gaze with remarkable composure, and in the end, he gave a half-hearted shrug and turned towards Margaret. “Come, Miss Hale – Mr Bell will be pleased to know his goddaughter takes his financial matters much to her heart.”
.
“We cannot marry,” Mr Thornton murmured despite everything, but Margaret would have none of it. After yet another lengthy period of silence, he spoke again. “I will not condemn you to heaven knows how many years of miserable poverty, Miss Hale; nor would Mr Bell consent to it, were I so foolish as to form such a reckless scheme upon your future.”
“As of last week, I am of age,” Margaret protested, her hand still tucked safely in his. “Mr Bell has no say in anything I do, and Dixon might testify to it that I am not afraid of hard work.”
“You know not what you speak of, Miss Hale –”
“Margaret,” she corrected him, sweetly, and more delicious silence followed between them. “I will never consent to be parted from you again, John.”
“Margaret,” he repeated after a time, his smile so sudden and so bright as to light the entire room. “My Margaret.”
.
“Well,” Mr Bell shook his head somewhat perplexedly, looking at his goddaughter as if he were seeing her for the first time. “If your heart is set irrevocably on Mr Thornton, my dear, there is very little I can do to prevent this marriage from going ahead. However, I wish to make sure you understand the consequences of your wedding a failed manufacturer who might one day find himself unable to provide for you and your children.”
“Mr Bell, let me assure you there is nothing I would not do to see to the comfort of my family,” Mr Thornton began with considerable hostility, relenting only when his betrothed stepped forward to rest a placating hand upon his shoulder.
“I appreciate your concern for my wellbeing, Godfather,” Margaret addressed him with perfect serenity. “I will have you know I trust Mr Thornton completely, and I am prepared to seek employment for myself, should the need arise.”
“You will do nothing of the sort,” Mr Thornton cut in, in a manner much reminiscent of his mother’s. “Already I have been offered a good position at Hamper’s; it will provide us with more than enough to live on, and keep my mother in the comfort owed to her age besides.”
“Very well,” Mr Bell sighed. “Now, Mr Thornton, would you be so kind as to offer the use of your personal study – there’s a wedding settlement to discuss, and I would have the details of it set down at once so that I may send all the papers to my lawyer first thing in the morning.”
Margaret frowned in no little confusion at so extraordinary a pronouncement. “Surely there is no need for a wedding settlement when all I have to my name fits neatly into the trunk I keep in my room?”
“You would think so, would you not, Margaret dear?” Mr Bell smiled genially, signalling for a somewhat baffled Mr Thornton to lead the way upstairs.
Mr bell x Autistic!student!reader - a little different
I was just wondering if you could possibly write a fic about Mr Bell x Student!reader, like you do with Evershed but with Bell instead? Maybe something with the reader being autistic? Im sorry if its hard to understand, and you dont have to write it. But thank you if do choose to write this <3 - @10-10-1824💜
Walking down the hallways, you were sipping the drink from the water bottle in your hand, eyes anxiously looking around as you tried to find somewhere to go.
You didn’t want to go to class, so you settled for aimlessly wondering the halls.
“You’re supposed to be in class.”
You stopped and looked away from the window you were staring out off to find Mr Bell leaning against the wall, arms crossed.
You said nothing to him as you walked past and he sighed, spinning around to follow you.
“(Y/N) come on if Mrs Carter sees you wondering you know you’re going to get in trouble again.”
You kept walking and he jogged over, standing in front of you to get you to stop walking and instead you started to walk back the way you came.
Mr Bell blocked your path and you frowned.
“Come on, we’ll sit in the office, have a chat.”
You shook your head.
“(Y/N).” He sighed.
You spun around again and carried on walking and he trailed behind you, and after a minute you near enough walked into the head teacher who frowned.
She looked between you and Mr Bell.
“You’re supposed to be in class, we’ve talk about this (Y/N).” She said sternly.
“I’ve got this don’t worry.” Mr Bell said.
“Got this, you’ve got a student wondering about the hallways ignoring the rules.”
While they spoke you used this as a chance to slip away, heading out of the building you looked at the blue sky and smiled a little to yourself.
You made your way down and followed the little path, up on to the field and you made your way over to your favourite spot.
Sitting under the tree, you laid down, hands on your stomach as you stared up at the green leaves, listening to the sound of the window rustling through them.
It was nice, it was peaceful and you found it easier to relax out here then you did in a classroom full of rowdy and loud teenagers.
You heard footsteps and you titled your head back a little, watching as Mr Bell and Mrs Carter walked walked over.
Mrs Carter stood back a little, papers in her hands as Mr Bell walked over and crouched down in front of you.
“Hey there kiddo.”
You sat up and turned around to face him.
“I’m not going back.” You said.
“I know you’re not, it’s why I’ve convinced Mrs Carter to come out here with us.”
Mr Bell sat down, and Mrs Carter walked over, sitting down as well as she handed you some of the papers she was holding and your work book.
“You know refusing to go to class is unacceptable, don’t you?” She asked.
You said nothing and you looked at the papers she had given you inside, rocking back and forth a little and Mrs Carter looked to Mr Bell.
“Is it getting bad again?” Mr Bell asked.
“I don’t like the noise.” You replied.
“It is pretty loud isn’t it.” He said.
You nodded your head and tapped your pen against the sheet as you looked around the empty field.
A small smile on your face as you turned your attention back back up to the tree above you and Mr Bell smiled as well.
“Yeah it’s better out here. And hey, at least you get the whole field to yourself.”
You nodded your head happily and carried on with your work and Mrs Carter looked to the other teacher who just smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
She watched as you just rocked back and forth, slowly filling out the worksheets she had given you before you handed one of them back.
She looked at it and smiled at you.
“Perfect, thank you. I’m not supposed to, but it is a nice day, do you want to finish your classes here?” She asked.
You excitedly nodded your head and looked up at her, but you refused to look directly out her.
“I can work here?” You asked.
“Yeah why not?” She smiled, “if you’re working and you promise to stay on school grounds this time.”
“I promise.”
She smiled and nodded her head, getting up from the grass as she handed the rest of the papers to Mr Bell.
“I’ll come back shortly to bring some more work.”
“Thanks Mandy.” He whispered.
She walked away and Mr Bell turned his attention to you as you set your papers on the ground, going back to laying in the grass.
Laughing a little he picked up the papers and lightly tapped you on the head with them.
“This isn’t nap time (Y/N). If Mrs Carter knows you’re not actually working out here then she’ll make you go back inside.”
“Then I’ll go home.” You huffed.
“Uh huh, then you’ll get detention.”
You shrugged a little and sat up, digging through your bag you pulled out a tennis ball and lightly tossed it in the air.
“Won’t go.”
“Then isolation?”
“No.”
Mr Bell sighed and took one of the papers he looked at it and marked a few of the questions you had managed to complete.
“How about you finish this one, and we’ll play a game of catch? A little break then we’ll do another paper.”
You looked at him and he held out his hand waiting.
Narrowing your eyes a little you tossed the ball lightly, hitting him in the head and he rolled his eyes at you, getting up to retrieve the ball that was no rolling away.
You carried on with your work, and you set it aside once your had finished some more of it and stood up.
You stretched and wondered over to the tree, jumping up you clung to one of the branches and shook it a little.
A few little flowers fell down and you smiled softly as you watched them softly hit the ground.
Mr Bell smiled a little and laughed, shaking his head at you.
“Come on, get down you before you get hurt. I promised a game of catch.”
“I don’t like catch.”
“You, (Y/N) are a big lair. You love catch, now come on.”
You smiled and dropped down. Walking over you stood a few feet away from him and he gently tossed the ball for you to catch.
You threw it back and he smiled.
“You know I can get you a hall pass if you want one, right?”
“Why?”
He smiled softly.
“Because I know you need to get out of classes sometimes (Y/N). It’s a way for you to get out of them, and you won’t have Mrs Carter chasing you all of the time.”
“I don’t like anywhere but here.”
“Well, how about this? If you need out of class, you use the hall pass, you can wait in my office and if I’m not busy we’ll come sit outside. How’s that?”
“Your office smell weird.”
“My office is a PE office.” He laughed.
“Still smells weird.”
You caught the ball when the threw it and sat down on the grass, tossing the ball lightly between your hands and he walked over.
Mr Bell crouched down in front of you and smiled.
“Okay, then how about you sit in the library, and I’ll ask all your teachers to let me know when you leave so I know where to find you?”
“Okay.”
You tapped the ball against your knee as you looked around and when the bell went and students started to flood out the school for lunch you got up to grab your stuff.
Mr Bell looked at you and then looked at all the students and he grabbed your bag, swinging it over your shoulder and picked up your papers.
“Let’s go.”
“But I want to stay here.”
“We’ll come back when classes start up again.”
You nodded your head and followed him inside to get out of all the noise of students shouting and cheering and messing around.
Mr Bell knew you and your signs, he knew you hated loud noises and crowded rooms, you preferred being on your own, and you liked sitting under the tree.
He just needed some way to convince Mrs Carter to give you a hall pass so you could get away whenever you needed.
You were a bright student, and only he seemed to see that because no one would look past the fact you wouldn’t talk to them, or stay in your classes.
But you were smart, incredibly smart, and you loved to play catch with someone, you loved pranks and music.
He just needed to get Mrs Carter to see that so she could finally agree to give you the different approach to education you needed
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A person was saying that in North and South Mr Bell wanted to marry Margaret, to which I answered that in the book he only means to adopt her as his daughter, and the only person he jokingly talks about marrying is aunt Shaw.
So they reply back telling me to "please, go read the book" (lol) and that he clearly mentions this intention of marrying Margaret, in passing, to John Thornton.
The only quote I can think of is this one:
“Margaret you mean. Yes! I am going to tell her. Poor fellow! how full his thoughts were of her all last night! Good God! Last night only. And how immeasurably distant he is now! But I take Margaret as my child for his sake. I said last night I would take her for her own sake. Well, I take her for both.”
Mr. Thornton made one or two fruitless attempts to speak, before he could get out the words:
“What will become of her?”
“I rather fancy there will be two people waiting for her: myself for one. I would take a live dragon into my house to live, if by hiring such a chaperon, and setting up an establishment of my own, I could make my old age happy with having Margaret for a daughter. But there are those Lennoxes!”
“Who are they?” asked Mr. Thornton with trembling interest.
“Oh, smart London people, who very likely will think that they’ve the best right to her. Captain Lennox married her cousin—the girl she was brought up with. Good enough people, I dare say. And there’s her Aunt, Mrs. Shaw. There might be a way open, perhaps, by my offering to marry that worthy lady! but that would be quite a pis aller. And then there’s that brother!”
“What brother? A brother of her aunt’s?”
“No, no; a clever Lennox (the captain’s a fool, you must understand); a young barrister, who will be setting his cap at Margaret. I know he has had her in his mind these five years or more; one of his chums told me as much; and he was only kept back by want of fortune. Now that will be done away with.”
“How?” asked Mr. Thornton, too earnestly curious to be aware of the impertinence of his question.
“Why, she’ll have my money at my death. And if this Henry Lennox is half good enough for her, and she likes him—well! I might find another way of getting a home through a marriage. I’m dreadfully afraid of being tempted, at an unguarded moment, by her aunt.”
How can you read that as Mr Bell meaning to marry Margaret, unless you were looking for what you saw first in the 2004 series?
It’s gonna be a RDR month just a heads up haha. I also got a Judgment collab piece I still gotta work on for the re-release. Though mainly RDR stuffs starting with our favorite rat, Micah.
