#Colin Herd

[wilwheaton]

In a new interview with the New Yorker ahead of his 70th birthday on Monday, the comedian explained his theory about why there’s no “funny stuff” to watch on TV anymore. “Nothing really affects comedy,” he said, “People always need it. They need it so badly and they don’t get it.” Instead of getting sitcoms like M*A*S*H, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, and All in the Family, audiences miss out, he said, as a “result of the extreme left and P.C. crap, and people worrying so much about offending other people.” [...] A look back at some of his earlier comments on a similar subject adds some context, if not clarity. In 2015, Seinfeld sat down for an episode of The Herd with Colin Cowherd podcast, where he explained his aversion to performing stand-up on college campuses. “I don’t play colleges, but I hear a lot of people tell me, ‘Don't go near colleges. They’re so PC,’” he said on the show. After giving an example of his teenage daughter using the word “sexist,” he concluded that young people “just want to use these words: ‘That’s racist’; 'That’s sexist’; ‘That’s prejudice.’ They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

Jerry Seinfeld Draws Right-Wing Praise for Comments on ‘Extreme Left’

This is such a bummer. Tell me you’re a privileged, entitled, myopic Boomer without telling me you’re a privileged, entitled, myopic Boomer.

It’s interesting to me that he says these legendary sit-coms, none of which were cruel, punching down, or hurtful, but were actually satirizing power, celebrating women, changing societal norms through representation, and using comedy to do it all, wouldn’t exist if “the extreme left” had anything to do with it.

Umm. Who does he think created these shows? And is he really that ignorant? Has this guy never read a single interview with Norman Lear? Or literally anyone in the cast of Mary Tyler Moore? I mean. Come on, man!

Teenagers and college students don’t know what they’re talking about when they tell a privileged, entitled, multimillionaire Boomer that his “jokes” can be hurtful, and maybe he could use his tremendous talent to do comedy that is just as funny without being hurtful. Okay. Got it. Keep saying that, and see how far it gets you, buddy.

Hey, Jerry Seinfeld: when blue checks on Twitter are celebrating you being a dick, it’s not because you’re so funny and such a brilliant comic; it’s because they love how you’re validating what garbage they are. You can’t see that, or don’t care, and that’s such a huge bummer.

[carylmeanslove]

Yep since day 1. We knew that everyone else was sleeping on him. But we will not let them forget that it was us Polin shippers/Colin lovers that knew from day 1. No need for herd mentality here because we have always been here fanning ourselves all along.

what did I say ladies and gentlemen didn’t I tell y’all😂 the internet is so fake and fickle and literally has hurd 🐑 mentality it’s wild if one person says something and few agree then suddenly all agree like they don’t have any minds of their own they just following whatever is in and new popular I told y’all since day Colin is the finest man along with Ben, in that whole Bridgerton show this don’t include QC men so don’t be coming for me because I didn’t inlcunde prince adolphus who’s so stunning too, Anthony visually is it not doubt about it and not in s1 but s2 overall he’s pretty but character wise personality and visually COLIN was always nr1 I’m sorry Benedict was nr2 just bc as character he’s just not fully fleshed and is just the HIMBOO of the family which is why many love him he’s just there being cute nice silly dumb and pretty hopefully he’ll get too be a more real person and not just the pretty dumb brother! Ofc in his szn he’ll be full fleshed character and person

BTW Us COLIN POLIN fans since day1 how do we feel don’t hall just love winning and knowing your taste and mind is superior to everyone and y’all have your own brains and aren’t just brainless zombies that follow whatever the some people with horrendous taste on the internet say and do 😂 me being a sheep I could never I have a mind of my own I could never just follow whatever someone tells just because it’s popular and in

[bridgertonblue]

I love how in season one and two Colin is just constantly dancing. If he’s at a ball he’s almost always on the dance floor with some young lady, but in season three we see him at every ball and he dances with NO ONE. The first time we see him dancing in part one is near the end of episode four where he interrupts Penelope’s dance with Debling.

He goes to every ball, he’s followed around by a herd of eligible young ladies itching to be on the dance floor, and all he does is stand on the sidelines and look for/watch Penelope. Even before the kiss where he fully realizes the extent of his feelings he’s still not dancing with anyone else.

[maevelin]

I just love my dorks!

Penelope: I could die tomorrow. I could and it would kill me. Colin: But you'd already be dead. Debling: Good for you. For stepping away from the herd...just like him (points at the stag) Penelope: He is dead. Me: THOSE TWO ARE MADE FOR EACH OTHER!

[rboooks]

The Shadow Nation

Zuko will admit that his time as Fire Lord has been a rough adjustment. Many oppose his rise to power, scream for a more prolonged war, and still support Ozai over the banished prince turned tratior (In their eyes at least).

He has dealt with many assassination attempts throughout his two-year rule. Suki and her warriors were working nonstop to keep him safe, but even they couldn't be everywhere at once. So it came to no surpise that one managed to sneak through every now and then.

Ussually, Zuko is able to fight them off. What many people of the fire nation don't realize is that the stories of his bending and combat being weaker then his sister and father are in the past. He has plentely of front line combant experince, has re-shaped his whole fire bending tenchine and has even trained the Avatar.

Zuko, to this day, is much more deadly with his swords than with his flames. The fact his people consider none-bending as a none-threaten is a sadundervalue of his combat abilitiess. The assasins are always so suprise when they learned just how ready he is for them.

They spent the rest of their days in a prision cell, stweing in rage that the Fire Lord contuines to call back troops, return colines and some may say worst of all, welcome the Mixed Blood into the nation.

Mixed Blood are children who resulted from Fire Nation soldiers letting off some stress in conquered areas with other Nations. They were not seen as equals, for Fire stood above all, and those children were servents at best, dirty secerts at worse.

This was a notion that all four elements shared. They disagreed with intermingling with the wrong element. The Mixed were not welcomed anywhere, less if they shared Fire in their veins. There was some tolerance for Water and Earth mixing but only some and only in trading ports that were far out of sight. (Or the pleasure district where all the Mixed eventually ended up)

It saddens Aang; he claimed a hundred years ago that mixed was common, and it's another thing this wretched war ruined.

Mostly, it angered Zuko. He knew what it was like to be an unwanted child, knew the confusion, the anger, the pain of wondering why his birth was such a sin.

He met some mixed children while on the run from the Fire Nation - he suspected Jet was one of them, but he never dared voice his opinion. Being outed as mixed in some places was as good as a death sentence. Ba Sing Se was one of those places.

He decided that the if Fire Nation would heal everything they have done then they needed to make admends for such children. They needed to help them find love and a home. With the help of his friends, he sent out a world wide notice welcoming any Mixed Blood and promising a life where they did not need to hide who they were.

Zuko, will admit that this eagerness to welcome those children may have blinded him from how lowly his people saw the Mixed. His assassination attempts tripled since herds and herds of badly washed, weary eyes, and tired individuals started arriving in the fire nation.

It, apparently, didn't help that Cheif Hakoda did the same after much encouragement from Katara and Sokka. The Fire Nation for the past three generations grew up with nothing but tales on how they should never be like the rest of the world.

Agreeing to shelter Mixed like the Southern Water Tribe has many calling for a coup.

Zuko knew this. But he would not stop in his effort to right the many wrongs of his bloodline. He expected the assumptions, he expected the barely hidden insults of his advisors, he expected the resentment from some of his more patriotic people.

What he wasn't expecting was his people trying to rid of him using spirits.

Zuko doesn't know much about the spirits or the spirit world. Aang never really talked about his trips there, and Uncle would only warn him to respect the beings at all costs.

He knew enough to follow, honor them, give them prayers, and how to avoid them but nothing else. So he really isn't prepared for his latest assassin to be an old woman with a spirit trapped in a cursed pot.

Apparently, her family had sealed it away years ago, and in exchange for its freedom, the spirit is tasked with ridding the world of Fire Lord Zuko. The old hag waits until Aang, Uncle, and Sokka- who also surprisingly has some encounters with spirits- depart before attempting her plan.

She rushes into the Gand Courtroom, throwing her pot with a loud release spell on her lips. Zuko is in the middle of a peace summit, so his first instinct is to protect the visiting diplomatics, less the other Nations call war again.

The old woman is quickly taken down by the Kypshi warrior, but the deed is already over.

The pot shatters, and out bursts a blue burning flame that forms into a howling wolf. There are chains along the wolf neck, and no amount of thrashing can break them. The wolf looks up, straight into Zuko's eyes, ignoreing the swords and flames of his guards trying to protect him before it bows it head.

I'm sorry. It seems to say. This is the only way.

He leaps at Zukom by passing every attempt to stop it, before it digs it's teeth into the Fire Lord's neck. Everyone is left watching in horror as the young king screams in agony, blue flames licking all over his body as he truns to dust.

The wolf's chains shatter as the last of the ashes that were once the man who brought peace to the world fall. The old woman laughs, even though the wolf spirit now turns it rage filled eyes on her and her kin.

She did what she needed to do. The Fire Nation will rise.

She is unaware that her actions cause the Fire Nation to burn. The wolf spirit was the nation's original spirit of mercy, and her family was the ones responsible for sealing it away on the order of thelate Fire Lord Sozin.

She is unaware her ancestors were all but wiped out once they successfully put the wolf away, for fear that they would turn on the nation.

There is nothing more dangerous than a spirit that no longer holds mercy. The Fire Nation seems to vanish overnight. It breaks Avatar Aang's heart but world prepares for a second war. A war against the spirits.

But that is the fate of this timeline. Fire Lord Zuko would never know the fate of his people as he was sent far away by Mercy to fulfill another destiny.

It's the least the spirit can do for having to take his human life in part of a deal.

Zuko wakes to find the Blue Spirit Mask attached to his face, laying on his back in what could only be Fire Nation colonies within the Earth Kingdom.

His trusted duel swords tied to his back., his utterly black outfit with only hints of blue undertones, and the most startling feature of all, his now unscared skin.

Zuko has no idea what is going onas he studies his face in a river, tracing his smooth skin with a near-hysterical glee. He's never considered himself overly goodlooking, but for some reason his relection is pretty.

No, not pretty, gorgeous. Unnaturally so, as if he traded his humanity for features as perfect as these.

What in the world-

A scream breaks through the air. High pitch, laced with fear and sp obviously young, Zuko is donning his mask breaking into a sprint before he even process what he is doing.

He does not notice the small flickers of ember he leaves in his wake, multiple colors as his dragon flames, nor does he see that the speed he travels is impossible unless he, too, is an Airbender.

When he breaks through the treeline, he finds himself in a ruined camp. A crowd of Earth Kingdom soldiers surrounds two small children, who look no older than ten, while a third, probably twelve, is desperately trying to free himself from a large boulder that seems to have crushed his legs.

There is blood everywhere, and Zuko burns with rage.

"Mixed Blood isn't welcome here," A soldier spits, kicking the thrashing twelve-year-old. The gut-curling screams the poor thing releases don't seem to affect the soldiers besides a few taunting smirks.

"Spirits help us!" One of the smaller kids cries out and a near by soulder kicks her in the stomech.

"The spirits don't answer to the likes of-" His words are lost as blue flames overtake the small opening, placing a barrier between the children and the adults.

Zuko walks through the flames, a strange sense of calmness washing over him. Deep within, he knows that he will protect these children from the world and burn everything in his path that tries to stop him.

"A spirit," One of the soldiers gasps. "Why is a spirit here?!"

"You attacked children." Zuko's voice is his own but not. It sounds like it's coming from a deep cave, as if the echoing flickers in and out like a candle flame. Somehow, it sounds far worse than Aang whenever his past lives speak through him.

It would have chilled him to the bone if he was in the right state of mind.

"You attacked children." He repeats when he does not get the responses he wants from the soldiers. They are not groveling before the children in regret. They are not freeing the boy from his pain. They are not moving.

"These are not children. These are Mixed- abominations! We were only trying to Agggh No, please. Mercy! No no! Please," One of the soldiers starts, but his words are cut off by the blue flames that suddenly grab hold of him, shaping him into chains and dragging him into the shadows that have formed around Zuko.

Shadows that hold loud screaming voices all being for death for that would be a mercy.

His screams echo alongside the voices within Zuko's shadow as he tilts his head to the remaining soliders.

"You attacked children. Leave" He whispers and at once the screams stop, the shadows draw back into his own human shaped one and his flames blow out. The Earth Kingdom soldier remains on the floor, eyes seeingless, and skin blue.

Dead.

The rest of the Soldiers don't linger, rushing to leave the angry spirits sight. Zuko watches them leave from behind his mask wondering where such rage had come from. And why he felt numb to the life he just took. Why he felt so unhuman and not be bothered by the thought.

He reaches up to trace the Blue Spirit Mask, feeling dancing flames along his fignertips.

Well done. Our children are safe. A voice whispers in his mind. It's Zuko, but it's also not. It's something more.

He hears a small whimper that snaps his out of whatever hold the mask has over him snaps. He turns his attention to the three children. The two are trying to push the bolder off of the eldest, their features scream Fire Nation but their eyes and coloring belie their Earth Kingdom.

Zuko stride over, waves a hand and the rock butns to dust harmlessly. The younger children cower and the oldest is too daze with pain to do anything else but sob.

His legs are comepletly smashed.

The cold burning rage returns.

Our children. Heal them. Zuko hears, and he wonders if he's gone mad. It's his own voice, but it belongs to the Blue Spirit.

I can't. I'm not a waterbender. He tells it

We can. We heal with green flames. Heal. It insits

Zuko traces the jaw of his mask before he raises a hand and sure enough green flames lick his fingers. The children start to sob, but he heads their fear no mind as he brings the green fire down on the boy's broken body, willing it to warm, fix heal.

Bones, muscles and skin slowly repair one by one, taking whatever scars once decorated the child's skin and leaving smooth almost too perefect sking behind.

Once done the flames jump onto the other children, fixing the broken bones, the bruises and the many scars other less kind humans have given them.

The three gape up at the spirit who holds out a hand.

"Would you like to come live in my nation?"

"The spirit world?" One whispers wondering if they had not been rescued after all. If that had all pasted to the next world.

The spirit tilts its head before removing its mask and revealing a face so beautiful it could rival the stars and sun. "No, dear child. My nation. My name is Zuko."

A fifth nation is born. The Shadow Nation moves from place to place but can never be taken as the spirits themselves protect the civilians.

Not that Zuko realizes it. He's just trying to get back to the Fire Nation, and if he impulsively stops every time a child is in pain and said child follows behind him like a lost puppy, well, that's no one's business but his own.

The legend of the Blue Spirit, protector of all children, inspires so many before Avatar Aang is found in the Southern Water tribe three years later.

A fire wolf watches from a far and smiles.

[nostalgicmiscellaneous]

Season 3 - Colin & Penelope's Triumph

Stop listening to loud people in bubbles who want to bring down your enthusiasm and crumple your joy with how much we have to enjoy Penelope and Colin's season. There are some people with a clear agenda of hatred because of their own couples that will straight up lie, cherry pick and manipulate to try to get people turned off or to feel insecure about saying they love what they love. Sometimes, people with a weaker personality and herd mentality fall for that and start thinking oh, maybe it's not good or i shouldn't like. Some nonsenses that we read sometimes and some fall for it: Nonsense: "Polin is not popular, the show would be doomed by them. People wont watch" Reality:

Nonsense: "Polin is being dragged by negative reviews by public and fans who doesn't see chemistry" ( lol, i can't even with that one...) Reality:

At this moment, very near season 1 in critics ( 87%) and above in audience score and higher than season 2 in both aspects. Does it make anyone like or dislike more? because it sure wouldn't make me like more or less something. Nonsense: Only negative things go viral. Reality:

That tweet is from 13 hours ago. You read that right. 13 hours ago and look at views, look at 139K ( HOLY SHIT) that have liked and an insane 65K have already bookmarked. That's viral in a insane level by people loving their chemistry and them together. If anything they have too much chemistry. lol Artists, famous figures and all saying they watched and loved also on SNSs. The general audience loving it. We, from inside the fandom, might have our issues, things we wanted more or less, but it's glorious what we have and how much Nicola Coughlan & Luke Newton gave and are giving us. The hatred is being silenced by the simple truth and the enjoyment people are having. They tried to hate on their popularity, it didn't work. They tried with their chemistry, it didn't work. They tried telling us it was fast or forced even with all we have already got of their relationship ( a couple that actually has been developing from season 1 and that already had a bond and has a different personality and path from other couples) and with 4 episodes left. They tried with their acting. Were proved wrong and more and more people are realizing the characters paths and the acting choices and praising. They tried with their looks. Made them look bad instead. So they tried with lies and look what they got back on their faces...a glorious triumph. So, have a great time. Be a fan and just be happy, enjoy without worrying, without comparisons. Some people are so bitter that they just don't want to like anything. It's their loss.

[vviipers]

880 words. (loz: tp) malo, talo, beth, colin & fem! reader. (loz: tp) mentioned link/fem! reader.

"C'mon down, Miss Priss!"

The nickname was cute and the children's Ordanian drawl would have made you bow in any other situation, but you were more than happy sitting on the porch of Link's home as you flipped through your book.

It'd rained all day long for three days. While today had lightened up to a simple spring shower, the ground was still soaked through until it became mud. You'd gotten the displeasure of watching several villagers slip and slide as they traveled between Ordon and Ordona's spring, most of which involved the children. While you were morally obligated, you hated making the trek down the ladder and into the mud whenever you heard a yelp.

"She's made outta crystal, y'know! Those city folk weren't meant for down here!"

They were right. It was a miracle you even survived your first few months of living in the village. You never minded helping around the farm or doing some yard work for the ladies, but that was the extent of outdoor work you did.

It wasn't that you were completely useless. The guilt of sitting pretty at home would guilt you the same way it did in Castletown.

Germs were gross. Your research (and overall feeling of ick after touching something dirty) had taught you as much. It's what made you made you so good at your job.

"Maybe when the grass comes back," you gently try to placate them. The comment makes them look down at the mud to fact-check you, Talo stomping and jumping around to shove the remaining blades down. "I'm always here if you have a boo-boo, though!"

"Boo-boo," Malo mimics, rubbing his thumb against his lips before sucking it into his mouth. Even without your grimace, he's quick to spit it out after discovering the mud covering it made it less appetizing. "Blegh! What's that?"

Beth shakes her head in disapproval and looks up from the drawing she and Colin are currently coloring. There's a pile of them carefully arranged around the porch, most held in your lap so they don't spill out from under the protection of the umbrella. "It's a cut, isn't it?"

You nod and she brushes hair over her shoulder in pride. A giggle leaves her when you brush a stray from over her ear, crying that it was ticklish.

She was your student, used loosely, so of course she picked up on the strange words you used in your day-to-day. If you thought back hard enough, you could remember the way she looked when you offhandedly repeated a few sayings she'd never heard.

(If you thought even further, you could recall the way Beth glared at you when Link had brought you to Kakariko. She'd hated you even more when all was said and done, pulling you aside and giving you empty threats when he'd formerly introduced you as his lover.)

(You'd never taken her seriously. It had taken some time, but she quickly warmed up after you cared for her while her parents visited Castletown for a week.)

Something in the conversation makes Colin perk up, leaning off of his stomach and onto his side. "Missus," he starts before adding your name, brows furrowed as he tries remembering if he was supposed to use it or miss. "Can you bring us some more stuff you keep in that box? Link 'n' Fado keep using it all."

It's not a shocking bit of information. In the year and a half you've known Link, he's been more than risky in all his endeavors. It's only natural he'd find a way to get himself hurt herding goats, collecting cuckoos, and harvesting pumpkins.

"Of course," you hum, slipping your bookmark between the pages and folding it closed. Standing, you gesture for Talo and Malo to come up the ladder and ignore the way they stomp their feet in argument. "You all must be hungry, right? Beth, why don't you help Colin make a new kit— pack it full— and I can make you all something to eat."

That gets the boys to lighten up, Talo helping Malo clamber up the ladder before following close on his tail. They shed their jackets and dirty pants, donning the shorts beneath while rubbing their stomachs as though starved.

"Can you make those soup 'n' sandwiches you make when we're sick? The red one that you can put the cheesy ones in!" Colin's suggestion is one all the kids agree with, stopping by the fireplace to warm their hands before scattering.

It takes you a moment to figure out what he's talking about, taking until you finish washing your hands to clarify. "Tomato soup and melted cheese?"

"Yeah! That!" Malo hisses and pushes his chair away from the fire once he gets too hot too fast, wrapping the blanket he snagged from the recliner tightly around his shoulders. "And that juice too!"

"Maybe," you laugh, retrieving the ingredients from the newly installed cooler. "Any last requests for my royal highnesses?"

There's a few more thrown into the air, a couple in your ear and the other from the basement. You don't think you had anything to bake their sweet-tooth cravings, but you're sure the rainy day would be enough to make you all creative.

[shmaptainwrites]

𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 [𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘]

PAIRINGS — Violet Bridgerton x fem!Reader [Modern!AU]

SUMMARY — More news comes to light about Landon, putting Violet and Reader on damage control.

WORD COUNT — 3K

WARNINGS — some descriptions of panic and anxiety

NOTE — And here's chapter 2! From here on out posts will be weekly, most likely on Fridays, but I hope you enjoy this start to the story and I can't wait to share chapter 3 with all of you!

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑰𝑰: 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑯𝑼𝑵𝑫𝑹𝑬𝑫 𝑴𝑰𝑳𝑳𝑰𝑶𝑵 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑮𝑶𝑻 𝑨𝑾𝑨𝒀

A few weeks had now passed since Violet had hired you, and she couldn’t have prayed for a better fit. Even though they were behind on some of the budgeting for the gala, things were running so smoothly Violet was confident that they would catch up. 

“You look like you’re in a good mood.” 

Violet looked up from her tea at her friend who she was visiting, a smile creeping up on her lips. 

“And what if I am?” she asked. 

“I would ask why because you have been so stressed you’ve been giving me grey hair, and now, miraculously, something has changed.” 

Violet chuckled at Agatha’s dramatic flair and placed her tea down in a saucer before speaking. 

“You remember this whole thing with Landon,” she said. “Dealing with the aftermath of it was terrible, but I recently hired someone to fill his position, and she feels like a very good fit. I’m enjoying working with her.” 

“A good fit,” Agatha smiled. She had a feeling there was something else her friend wasn’t sharing, but she knew it would come with time, not wanting to press too hard quite yet. “I suppose that means the gala is raring to go?” 

“Yes, and I would be so grateful if you could attend,” Violet said with a soft look in her eyes. “I’m trying to make sure all the family is back in time for it, but you know my children.” 

“Like herding cats,” Agatha said with a chuckle, and Violet nodded with slight exasperation. “Speaking of, how is everyone?” 

“Alive,” Violet chuckled. “Anthony is still in India, he won’t be back until the gala I believe; Benedict is Lord knows where; Colin and Penelope are on assignment in Indonesia last I heard. You probably already know that Daphne and Simon are settling in with baby number three.” 

Agatha nodded. 

“Eloise is at school taking summer courses because she cannot be without some sort of mental stimulation for too long; Francesca has just started her position at the philharmonic; and Gregory and Hyacinth are at home getting on each other’s nerves as usual.”

“So I gather the house still isn’t quiet?” 

“Not in the least,” Violet shook her head. “Hyacinth is so excited I’ve agreed to let her go to this concert with Benedict. I believe I’ve heard all of the album so many times I could do the concert myself.” 

“But watching one’s mother sing is not nearly as entertaining is it?” Agatha teased and Violet laughed. 

“No, surely not.” 

Once the laughter settled down, Agatha looked at Violet, a curious glimmer in her eyes. 

“Are you sure there isn’t something else you wish to speak with me about?” she asked. “Perhaps something different from the usual?” 

Violet frowned a little, unsure as to what her friend was referring to.

“No, I don’t think there is,” she shook her head. “Why do you ask?” 

“No particular reason,” Agatha shrugged. “But you do know you can tell me anything.” 

“Of course I do,” Violet nodded her head, her lips pressed into a small, thin smile. “You are my closest friend, if there was something to tell, I would tell it to you.” 

“Good,” Agatha nodded, content with that response. 

Violet sipped her tea and thought back to Agatha’s question. Was she reading into something that wasn’t there or did she sense something Violet didn’t? The only really different thing in her life at the moment was you and, in her mind, that was normal. You were an employee who was working well, but then again so was Marianne when Violet had hired her, and she hadn’t necessarily sung her praises in front of Agatha. 

She was about to open her mouth and ask her friend further questions about what she meant, but she was interrupted by the sound of her phone ringing. 

Seeing your name flash across the screen, she excused herself for a moment, answering the phone and stepping outside of the room to take the call. 

“Hello?” 

“Violet, hi,” she heard your voice on the other end, you sounded a little nervous. 

“Is something going on?” she asked. 

“Nothing major,” you assured her. “Just I-I noticed some discrepancies in the accounts…Okay that’s pretty major, I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m so sorry to cut your tea with your friend short, but I think we have to talk about this.” 

Violet pressed her lips together and nodded her head. 

“Are you at the house?” she asked. 

“No, I’m at my apartment in the city. I can be there in forty minutes.” 

“No need, I’m closer to you, text me your address, I’ll come over,” she said. 

“Alright, call me when you get close, I’ll come down and get you from a side entrance.” 

Violet felt a small flutter in her chest at the reminder that she may be exposing herself to wandering eyes, but your voice quickly reassured her that there were ways to be discreet. 

“I’ll see you soon,” Violet said. “Maybe call the lawyers while you’re waiting for me, I’ll call Anthony on the way.” 

You agreed and exchanged quick goodbyes before Violet entered the room, an apologetic look on her face. 

“Dinner to make up for this?” she asked. 

“Your place, you cook,” Agatha nodded and Violet chuckled. 

“Deal,” she came into the room and gave her friend a tight hug before grabbing her bag and jacket, letting herself out. 

She got into her car and began the drive to the address you had sent, calling Anthony once the GPS was set up. 

“Hey Mum,” the voice of her daughter-in-law rang through the car and Violet smiled. 

“Kate, my darling, it is so good to hear your voice,” she sighed. 

“It's good to hear yours, too,” she could practically hear Kate smile over the phone. “Let me guess, more issues with work?” 

“Unfortunately, yes,” Violet nodded. “It may be good for you to hear this as well, but can you get Anthony?” 

“Of course,” Kate assured her and went to go get her husband, informing her when they were both on the phone together. 

“Mum, what’s going on?” Anthony asked. 

“Our new manager’s just found some discrepancies in the accounts. I thought you said the lawyers didn’t find anything?”

“They didn’t,” Anthony swore quietly. “What was it?” 

“I’m not sure yet, but I would not be surprised if it has anything to do with Landon. I’m heading to her home right now to go over things with her, and she’s calling the lawyers,” Violet explained. “Just, could you maybe go on damage control with your siblings and make sure no one is spending exorbitant amounts of money on anything, not that they would, just try to keep things within limits.” 

“Okay, Kate and I can handle that,” Anthony nodded. 

“Are you sure you don’t want us to come home?” Kate asked. “My family would understand, we can come back another time.”

“Oh no, my dear,” Violet shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t want you to do that. This time is special, Eddie isn’t always going to be this young. Your family should get a chance to enjoy him like this, too.” 

“Alright,” she sighed. “But don’t hesitate to call if you need anything. I feel like we left you alone at such an inconvenient time.” 

“It’s no matter, we have a manager now who I really think we can trust. I’m sure she’ll be able to help me figure whatever this is out.” 

“We love you, Mum,” Anthony said. “Check in soon.” 

“Will do. Kisses.” 

Both Anthony and Kate made a small kiss sound over the phone before they exchanged goodbyes and hung up just before Violet pulled into the area where your apartment was.

It took her a moment to find parking, but she called you while she did and you came down to greet her by the side door, ushering her inside. 

“You found the place okay?” you asked, and Violet nodded her head. 

You could see the stress clearly in her expression, especially as she fiddled with the rings on her finger or played with the ends of her hair while you were waiting in the elevator. 

Once you finally got inside your apartment you quietly excused the mess. 

“I moved in just before I started working for you, I haven’t had the chance to get everything out of boxes yet,” you explained, bringing her over to your office that was more or less set up. “Okay, this is what I found.” 

You showed Violet the papers splayed out and began to explain them. 

“Basically, it’s a money trail,” you said. “At first glance it actually looks quite normal, which is probably why the others missed it, but I didn’t recognize this name,” you pointed to the document, “and decided to do some additional digging. I found out it actually goes all the way to this shell company working out of Seychelles. Unfortunately, I can’t touch it and it looks like there’s a couple hundred million in there.” 

Violet could feel herself growing nauseous. Ironically, she wasn’t worried about the money, but more so what kind of attention this would bring to the family. The kind of attention she was trying so desperately to avoid. 

“V-Violet, are you alright? You look a little pale,” you said softly, gently reaching to place a hand on her back. “Do you want to sit down?” 

She nodded her head, and you helped her into one of the nearby seats, watching as her eyes scanned the papers. 

“We have to call the police, don't we?” she said finally and you nodded your head. “This is my fault,” she whispered and you frowned, kneeling down in front of her. 

“How on earth is this your fault?” you asked. 

“I hired Landon,” she explained. “He worked for us for years, and I didn’t notice a single thing.”

“Violet,” you placed a hand on her knee, and her eyes moved to where you touched her. The contact was not unfamiliar, but she felt herself wanting to lean into it. “These weren’t your actions,” you said quietly. “They’re Landon’s, and it’s not like he made his intentions clear to you. He lied and was manipulative.” 

Violet chewed on the inside of her cheek, holding her forehead in her hands before running her hand through her hair and leaning back into the chair. 

“The money will find its way back-” 

“It’s not about the money,” Violet shook her head. “We have more than enough of that, and even if we didn’t…it wouldn’t be the end of the world.” 

You stayed silent, waiting to see if she would say more, but your mind found itself drifting back to the comment she had made during your interview. 

“It’s the press, isn’t it?” you asked, and she nodded her head. 

You chewed on your lip, trying to think of something, anything that might relieve her worry, but you were afraid nothing would do the trick. 

“You must think it's silly,” Violet said, leaning back in her chair, her body language becoming more closed off as the topic progressed. “That someone who has lived her whole life in the spotlight should probably be used to the press by now.” 

“I never said I think it’s silly,” you spoke softly, still kneeling by her side. “I can't imagine having my whole life available to the public, whether it is the truth or lies fabricated to get more viewership. That is not a life I think anyone sane would long for.” 

Violet pressed her lips together and sighed. 

“Then let’s try and keep this low profile for as long as we can. It will inevitably get out, but maybe by that time, things will have cooled off.” 

You nodded your head, patting her knee and standing up. 

“Of course, then we can focus on lighter things like this gala.” You smiled. “I just got word that they secured the venue you wanted, so that’s good news.” 

Violet couldn’t help but smile at that. It was good news. She’d always had good luck when she’d hosted at this venue, managing to raise more and more money each time, and she would always make sure her own family’s donations would match. 

Edmund had always said that money was a tool, and when it was used properly, it had the opportunity to do good in the world. 

Now that most of her children were able to support themselves, she worried less and less about giving more of the money away. Yes, they had lived a fairly privileged life, but she and Edmund tried to make sure they didn’t focus their spending on luxuries. 

Aside from their home, which had been in the family for eons, they kept things simple. A few people to help around the house due to its large size, security when it was necessary, but that was the extent of it. 

Violet watched as you picked up the phone to call the lead officer on Landon’s case. Eventually they had given their number to Violet in case anything suspicious came up, but she thought they were in the clear and would never have to use it. 

When you were finished talking, telling the officer you would meet him at the Bridgerton’s residence, you grabbed your keys and your purse, but Violet stopped you. 

“We can go together, I’ll bring you back afterwards,” she said. 

“Are you sure? I know today has been hectic already. I don't want to add anything on your plate.” 

“Driving is the only time I get any peace, you’d be doing me a favour,” she assured. “Plus, I just got Gregory to clean the car so it’s spotless,” she teased. 

You chuckled at what she said, still packing your keys in your purse. 

“Okay, let’s go then,” you grabbed the papers and files from your desk that were relevant and headed to Violet’s car. She took a quick look around, before giving you a nod to get inside, and she followed soon after, starting the car. Hearing the quiet hum of the hybrid engine come into the space, she pulled out of her parking spot and began the drive back to her home. 

You wouldn’t lie, you weren’t particularly expecting Violet to drive herself around, but clearly she had proven time and time again her family did not do things the typical way. 

“So you enjoy driving?” you tried to make friendly conversation. 

“I do,” she nodded. “And I find I do so much of it, I may as well get a car that’s decent for the environment.”

“Really, you drive a lot?” you asked. 

“Well, more when all of my kids were still living at home. We used to joke and say I was the family chauffeur, but I loved driving with the kids, it let me spend more time with them when everything around us felt unmanageable.”

“Are you still chauffeuring Hyacinth and Gregory?” 

“Not as much as I used to. Hyacinth definitely, but Gregory gets himself around, much to my dismay,” she chuckled lightly. “But before I know it, Hyacinth will be off to school, and I’ll be alone with a lot of time on my hands.” 

“Maybe I can engage your services, then,” you teased and Violet smiled. 

“Tit for tat, I like that,” she turned off of the highway and went to one of the less crowded offroads that led to the house. “What about yourself, do you have any simple pleasures?” 

“You know, that is a good question,” you sighed and sank back into your seat. “I love art. Even just looking at it, I suppose.”

“And how do you satisfy that need?” Violet inquired further. 

“Museums, mostly. I’ll just go and sit there for hours looking at a particular painting. Well, I used to, I don’t have enough time to do much of that anymore,” you admitted. 

“You’ll enjoy the venue for the gala then,” Violet said. “It’s filled with art, I find it gets people in the right mood to give generously.” 

“You do a lot of that, don’t you?” you asked, turning your head over to her, watching as her eyes were focused on the road ahead, sunglasses tangled in her hair, the ghost of a smile on her lips. 

“Give generously?” she asked. “Yes, I’m afraid there may have been something I failed to mention when I hired you.” 

“Which is?”

“I don’t think this is going to be a permanent position,” she said quietly. 

“And why is that?” you asked curiously. 

“Once Hyacinth is in school, Anthony and I have made plans to…essentially give away most of the money.” 

“As your financial manager, I feel compelled to advise you against that,” you said, “but as a human being. I admire your detachment.” 

“Oh, I assure you there are selfish motives as well,” she said. “Each of the children will be left with a sizable trust, I will have enough to let me have a comfortable retirement, but Anthony and I thought it was time we got rid of the thing that keeps all the cameras constantly on our family.” 

“Do all your children know about this plan?” you asked. 

“More or less,” she nodded. “They’re all capable individuals. They will live happy and comfortable lives, and I know for a fact they won't struggle and neither will any of their children, or their children after that. They just might have a chance at some semblance of normality.” 

You nodded your head, understanding. 

“I’ll obviously need your help with that transition once it happens, but after that I’m afraid I won’t have much of a need for your expertise. Unless you also do taxes, then perhaps I can keep you around,” she looked over at you briefly. 

“I don’t tend to do taxes,” you said. “But I think I’d make an exception for you, Violet.” 

Violet bit her lip and smiled. She had certainly hoped you might say that.

TAGLIST —

@paola-carter @madde11 @thesamesweetie @cherrysxuya @philocalistwrites @mako-mermaids2021 @oh-mydarling @courtneyteal @amethyst-bitch @etherynn @lilisdarling

[swallowedbyfandom]

She can admit that perhaps she over performed this morning during calling hours. She has not had a moment of peace since she set foot into this ball. She has been swept out to dance for every set so far. She has been fetched so many drinks she is now just pretending to drink for courtesy sake. Really if she attempted to drink even half of the beverages offered to her, her bladder would burst on the dance floor.

Her poor brain will need all day tomorrow to recover from all the mind numbing small talk and horrifying revelations she has forced it to endure this evening. Case in point, Lord Fife unfortunately seems to have a fondness for verbal degradation. With every cutting remark she makes at him, his pupils dilate further and the blush riding high on his cheekbones deepen. To traumatize her further when that vile cretin attempted to let his hand drift she pinched him, hard. She is fairly certain she felt his member hardening at it. He is so repugnant. She could have gone her entire life without knowing what type of sexual deviant he was and died a happy lady. She is going to have to bathe in a vat of lye to rid herself of his disgusting touch. Yuck!

Lord Debling signs her dance card for two waltzes with a smirk, that thrills her. Perhaps,it is the fact that he is normally so contained and refined that makes it so obvious to her. Tonight he is lighter, his gait is more graceful, and his shoulders appear looser. He has stopped being so restrained and is finally giving her a glimpse of the man he must be when he is exploring the wilds. He brims with playful mischief. The bow he gives her is so overly dramatic that she cannot stop the peal of delighted laughter that escapes her. She gives him a grand curtsy in return. She greets him with a cheeky, "How nice to finally meet you, My Lord." she knows what this is. Alfred wants to leave an impression. He has finally stopped playing by the rules of the herd. She cannot find it in herself to deny a few outcast a helping hand.

Their first waltz is fun. They tease each other with quips and fleeting touches. Her cheeks ache from smiling and her voice is hoarse from laughter. They twirl around like gleeful children. There is an honest enjoyment to their movements together. Tonight, they dance for themselves without expectations. It is wonderful she decides. One does not need to be a professional dancer to communicate through dance, one only needs to be fearless. He escorts her over to her next dance partner after giving her a playful wink.

She unfortunately has to spend another 6 sets dancing and pretending to be charmed by the lemmings of the ton. Were it not for the respite Benedict and Anthony provided by taking up two of those sets, she would have thrown her drink in someone's face by now. Really Lord Hardy should count himself blessed Anthony rescued him from her. Anthony, she is sure has something diabolical planned for him. After all, he had to listen to her rant about that sleazy excuse of a gentleman attempting to peer down her neckline.

She finally manages to find an opening to throw herself at Lady Danbury's mercy. She adamantly declares, "I will name my firstborn daughter after you if you can keep these salivating savages off me for at least an hour!" Lady Danbury takes pity on her and allows her to remain attached at her side. They enjoy their time together exchanging friendly banter, and heckling Benedict's attempts at dodging the marriage hungry mamas of society.

Lord Debling collects her from Agatha's side for their second waltz with an intense look fixed on his handsome face. His entire bearing screams dominance, he is not a gentleman who will allow another to cut in currently. He will accept no interference, her belly clenches with arousal. It seems she prefers wild masculinity over genteel falsehoods.

They are off after that, all direct eye contact and lingering holds. They are incandescent together. None noticed before how very talented both were as dancers. They moved in perfect sync together, and seemed perfectly content to ignore the rest of the ballroom.

"I am leaving tomorrow morning, before I end up entrapped into a marriage, I do not want."

He holds her firmly as he guides her seamlessly through the last steps of their waltz.

"I understand why you have denied me, I do. I am once more in awe of your perseverance. I implore you, to wear my ring. Wear it on your right hand as a promise to a fellow misfit, please. Do not let the herd diminish your splendor Penelope. Promise me, my Dove."

She lets a small watery laugh. "I promise. You take care of yourself, the northern passage is dangerous. This world, would be a lesser place without you."

He places a guiding hand on her back as he escorts her to Lady Danbury, who is now joined by Violet. He bows once more to her, before kissing her right ring finger in parting.

"I shall carry you with me, Miss Featherington." He saids tenderly before departing.

She smiles at him radiantly one last time.

Violet places an arm around her in comfort.

"Are you certain you made the right choice child?" Agatha bluntly asked.

She nods her head once while retorting, "Yes, he is not ready to put in the work a strong marriage would require. We have the potential to grow into something grand but not the time. I am not so desperate for a union that I am willing to settle for less than I deserve."

She rests her head on Violet's shoulder.

Violet strokes her hair. " You must be emotionally exhausted. The last three days have been wrought with drama. Let us get you to your carriage so you may go home and rest. "

She heads home to write her latest Whistledown edition. She is too tired to make the run herself. She sends Rae to drop it off at the emergency dead drop location. Rae of course believes she is dropping off a love letter.

Just before slipping into her bed she places the gorgeous ring Alfred gave her on her right ring finger. She has a promise to keep after all. She is asleep as soon as her head touches her pillow.

[language-of-love]

Am I really writing fic again? Not sure...but I guess maybe...cause I wrote a thing. Colin and Penelope have me in a vice, y'all.

No idea which of my blogs to use since this is a new fandom for me, so I chose this one. (*waves hello*) Do I even remember how to make a post? LOL

Anyway...here's a tiny little kiss fic, cause that's what I do.

-------------------

never been kissed...

His first was an embarrassment. Fumbling fingers mixed with overwhelmed breaths, the memory built up in his estimation as more revelatory than it was in actuality. There were feelings, undefinable, but new and full and far from perfunctory. The stirring he’d imagined to feel in his belly he’d felt, but not for the nameless partner, but more for the act itself. He’d been left wondering if there was more, something beyond the fluttering like moths wings and mild nausea he’s still unsure was from the touch of another's lips or his nerves alone.

His second was rushed, drunken and hazy, the remnants of it only tickling at the edges of brown liquor-poisoned flashes of dimly lit sights and muffled sounds. His pockets were left lighter from too many coins spent for something so unmemorable. 

His third was better. Confidence and less alcohol proved to be improved bedfellows than his previous encounter, experienced lips matching his eagerness and hands finding purchase on areas before unexplored by soft fingers. He’d flushed at the intimacy of the act, thought back on it fondly, but remembered her hands far more than her mouth. Perhaps that is to be expected.

The few more that followed brought pleasure and exploration, but each one leaving him searching for that elusive something…something life-altering, something poetic, something… more . Looking back at his diary from that time, his confusion over his own feelings, or lack thereof, is etched into the pages with long dry ink. How could he have known something so seemingly unknowable to a man of two and twenty.

The next was his last, the last of the life he’d known before and first of the life irrevocably reshaped after.

Every millisecond of it is etched on his heart, forever being retraced with each minute that passes spent by her side. The warmth from the blush blooming beneath the impossibly soft skin of her cheek, it still causes his fingertips to flex at the slightest reminder. Her eyes, two swirling oceans of impossible blue, wide and questioning, slowly fluttering closed as he'd drawn her closer. He’d never felt so exposed, so uncertain, yet confusingly certain at the same time. That slight pull in his gut he’d felt before, it was nothing contrasted to the plummet his stomach had taken as the plump fullness of her bottom lip made contact with his own. If he’d known what electricity to feel like, he’d have been able to describe it with perfect accuracy. It was quick and searing, warmth being drug to the surface of his skin at the speed of a herd of wild horses tearing across a meadow. And then it was gone, over far too soon and leaving him near panicked and needy in ways when he looks back on he can’t help but feel foolish. He can’t give himself the credit of courageousness or strength for drawing her back in, for it had been born out of necessity, an inability to not have his lips back where they belonged. With each soft slide of her mouth against his own and the warmth of her breath igniting the space between them from the sighs escaping her throat...the formula, the construction, the intricacies of how a kiss was supposed to feel came crashing through the haze he’d been wandering through much too far away.

Entirely too far away from her .

How was he to know that this thing he’d been searching for had been here all along? 

Not this thing, this person . This singular being who made it all make sense.

Pen.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unsolicited 7

Warnings: bad self-thought/talk, bullying, insults, low self-esteem, money problems, more dark elements to come.

Wouldn’t mind some feedback! Lloyd was driving me nuts so I had to do it. Thank you in advance 💜

Colin stopped calling just after nine. Still you keep your phone on silent.

You grab the bucket of supplies and change for the bus, another day ahead of you, your entire routine thrown off by the latest crisis in your crumbling life. You can make do without the car, just like you can survive without your husband.

You open the door just as a figure appears on the other side. You drop your shoulders as Lloyd blocks your path, propping an elbow against the frame as he looms over you. You check the time on your phone.

“I’m gonna be late–”

“For what? We got a deal.”

“I’ll pay you back for the tow,” you insist, “alright? But I gotta go. The bus–”

“Inside, sweetheart,” he points past you, “let’s sit down and chat.”

“After–”

“Now,” he pushes himself straight and walks inside, herding you back into the house, “I got the estimate, even if you have the car scrapped, you won't breaking even on the tow bill. So, what leverage do you have exactly?”

You roll your eyes, “you’ll have to wait. I’ll pay with interest–”

“Divorces are expensive,” he insists as he grabs the bucket, tugging on it as you resist, “sit down.”

“Please,” you beg, “can we not?”

He yanks the bucket away and drops it on the floor, “you can sit or I can make you sit. You agreed, we’d talk. Now, let's lay out some terms before you go pouting.”

You jut out your jaw and sigh. You shuffle to the small kitchen table and sit. He stays standing, gripping the back of the chair opposite. He gives a long look around, taking in your home. It’s not much, half a duplex, cramped but tidy.

“You keep a nice house,” he muses, “comes with the job, I suppose.”

You struggle not to tear your hair out as you watch him. He pushes away from the table, pacing around as he inspects the drawers and lifts the carafe from the coffee machine, the dregs of the morning’s pot left over. He swishes it around before replacing it.

“You need a way out, in a manner of speaking I need a way in,” he turns to you and grins, “so, I think we have a start.”

You clench your jaw and drag your nails over the wooden table, fighting not to scratch into the surface. He tucks a hand in his pocket as he nears again, kicking a foot up on the crossbar of the chair as he stops. He clicks his tongue as he considers you.

“I’ll get you out of here, baby. All you gotta do is say ‘yes, daddy’.”

You growl and grit your teeth, “I told you, I’ll pay you–”

“I don’t wait. I don’t do interest, but baby, for you,” he pulls his foot to the floor and sidles in front of the chair, sitting theatrically as he puffs out his chest, “I can give you a bit of… dignity. You’ll still be working, earning your way. You’re a maid, I’m messy as fuck, so I think maybe it’s time you move into the private sector.”

“You want me to clean your house?”

He laughs and winks as his tongue pokes out, “that’s the basis,” he traces a flat line with his hands, “you ever heard of something called ‘free use’?”

You shake your head and cross your arm, your puffer jacket swishing awkwardly with the movement. He pauses as his eyes wander down and his eyebrows flick up in amusement.

“No,” you answer aloud.

“Wonderful,” he snorts, “of course you wouldn’t, Colin seems a missionary man. Nice, simple… boring.”

You shudder and hook your leg over the other, “I don’t want to talk about him with you.”

“Oh, I fully intend on helping you forget him. Let me explain; you’re going to come over and make things nice and pretty for me and if I’m walking around, living my life, doing my thing and I happen to think that your ass looks nice and pretty, well, then I’m gonna bend you over and use you until that thought goes back to where it came from.”

You curl your lip in disgust, insides squirming as you swallow tightly.

“And you’re going to let me. You’re going to say, ‘yes daddy, what hole?’”

“Fucking Christ, you know you are the most repulsive person I’ve ever–”

“Yes, yes, I’ve heard that before, but you’re not really in a position to worry about… feelings.”

You stare at him, “if you’re so well off, can’t you go out and get some supermodel off the rack?”

“Boring,” he snickers, “now, that car is caput. Your marriage, eeeh, well that seems about the same. And I know you can’t afford to just walk out. But I can give you everything you need; a roof over your head, maybe some clothes that don’t look like they’ve been fished out of the dumpster, and a good fucking. Or many.” He taunts as he wiggles his shoulders in superiority, “and something even better, revenge.”

You rub your cheek, your other arm kept firm against your chest, “revenge?”

“On that dipstick. He gets to come home to an empty house, pay half the rent, and realise how fucked he truly is. That ex of his, she’s not gonna leave her husband for some half-dime sales manager. She’s married to a goddamn trust fund baby.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Let’s not ask too many questions about how. Baby, you don’t wanna know all that.”

You look down and trace a ripple in the wood with your thumb. Your chest tightens, the clutch of inevitability closing in, squeezing your rib cage until it hurts. What you know of this man is vile and what he won’t tell you, is perilous.

“Okay, I’ll make this real clear for you. I’m being nice, we’re talking.” He sits up, elbows on the table, knees wide, “You want to keep being stubborn, I’m not going to stop. I’m going to follow you to work and I’m going to wait and then I’m going to bug you again. And then maybe, I’m going to call your boss and make a complaint.

“Then you’ll get back here and you’ll be exhausted and annoyed because, lo and behold, I don’t fucking stop. And you’re alone and you’re thinking of your man fucking another woman.” He runs his fingers along his mustache as his lips curl, “And you got no wine left. You take a hot bath and think about your bad life decisions and you still got no plan.

"Tomorrow, you take the bus again, you clean, then you get a call from Donny down at head office. Yes, there was a concerning phone call about you. Things missing in offices. That’s a serious offense, they could call the police.” He taps his fingers on the table pointedly, “Probation for now but likely termination once the investigation ends.

“You walk out just after noon, you can barely see straight. Everything is coming apart at the seams. No car, no job, no husband…” He sits back and grips his thighs, “And good old Lloyd is waiting for you. I might even bring roses, if I’m feeling real nice. But at that point, my balls will be so blue I probably won’t have a thought left above the waist.

“So, baby, let’s make a choice; my way or the hard way?”

You glare at him, breathless. You're dizzy as you try to think. The last few weeks swirl around you, the vortex circling around you. You believe him. You know he won’t stop. All he’s done, you have no doubt that he’ll follow through.

Your cheek ticks. Is that what you're worth? Low. Lower than you ever expected. But what other option do you have?

“Don’t bother packing,” he stands, jolting the table with his ascent, “oh, and…”

He comes around the table and grabs your wrist, forcing your arm up. He grabs your rings and you curl your finger. He tuts and bends it back in its socket until you cry out. He rips the bands past your knuckle and whips them across the room.

“We’re done talking,” he clings to your hand and presses it to his crotch. "Say it."

"Wha--"

"'Yes, daddy'," he prompts, "I wanna hear it baby.

You push your tongue against the roof of your mouth. Humiliation sears behind your eyes, "yes, daddy."

He hums and squeezes your hand around him, a twitch beneath the fabric, "oh ho, see baby, that got me good."

[blairstales]

Fairy Deer 🦌

While some fairy folk in Scottish folklore were said to have Fairy Cows, for much of Scotland, the fairies instead raised fairy deer.

“Everywhere in the Highlands, the red-deer are associated with the Fairies, and in some districts, as Lochaber and Mull, are said to be their only cattle.” Superstitions of the Highlands & Islands of Scotland by John Gregorson Campbell (1900)

The fairies would milk and tend to these deer carefully, and would punish humans for killing a deer.

“When a dead deer is carried home at night the Fairies lay their weight on the bearer’s back, till he feels as if he had a house for a burden. On a penknife, however, being stuck in the deer it becomes very light.” Superstitions of the Highlands & Islands of Scotland by John Gregorson Campbell (1900)

There are also some fairies that are said to transform into deer (which is not to be confused with a Baobhan Sith, which has the legs of a deer, but the upper body of a woman). In these stories, a fairy is in the guise of a deer.

“In their transformations it was peculiar for the Fairy women to assume the shape of the red-deer, and in that guise they were often encountered by the hunter. “ Superstitions of the Highlands & Islands of Scotland by John Gregorson Campbell (1900)

Historic Audio Recordings:

(link) This song is a fairy lullaby. The composer sees a big strong man passing by with a bow and arrow, and is afraid that he will kill the mother of the young one to whom she sings.According to tradition, the composer was singing to a young deer

(link) This song belongs to the fairy song tradition and was used as a milking song or lullaby. Colin's cattle referred to in the song are the deer.

(link) Ailean Donn spent a year hiding in a cave. He was looked after by a woman who herded the deer. She later saw him in Glasgow, dressed like a gentleman. When she spoke to him, he said she had mistaken him for someone else.

English: Woman carrying a bouquet in the woods, with deer beside her. Date: 1920 Source: The Book of Fairy Poetry

[hsslilly-blog]

I want to know everything you're willing to say about Blair

omg okay, i'll try to be concise. here's their family tree and here's some design notes. the rest is under the cut.

blair (they/she) was born in an apainn/appin, in the scotland highlands on may 13th, 1997. full name: blair marina stewart. they have a gaelic name as well (bhlair maired stiùbhart). their parents are called james and eleanor, and they have an older brother as well; his name is colin and he's four years older than blair.

since an apainn is a very small town, with a super tiny population, she spent a lot of time with her brother around their family property. they'd herd sheep and take care of the other animals, and spend a lot of time at port appin watching the ferry. they were in a band together, with both of them playing the fiddle. blair also plays the piano, is very keen on tap dancing and they know how to knit. besides english, they speak scottish gaelic and they learn scots later on. they're left handed.

their family moved to glasgow in the first half of 2009 so blair could attend secondary school and colin could attend college. getting used to this different environment was very hard for blair and they struggled a lot. blair didn't understand their peers and they often felt alone. she had only two friends: moira stirling and aiden douglass. to make matters worse: colin and blair got involved in a very bad car accident in 2009 when he was driving them around (without authorisation), in slippery road. colin passed away and blair ended up with a broken arm and the scar on their right eye. this torn their family apart and their parents divorced in 2010. blair stayed with her mother, and then later on in 2013 they moved to the u.s. (right before the start of high school story prime).

they were raised roman catholic and their family frequented church. catholic guilt is a theme in blair's character and it's present in every single aspect of their life. from their identity, to their actions, to their choices, to the friends they make, to the words they say. guilt, fear and shame move blair. they stopped attending the church on their 16th birthday.

besides that, blair has issues with self-image and they've had an eating disorder from the time they were 13. being an overachiever, they push themselves too much and they have very unhealthy coping mechanisms. they're still mourning their brother as well, as it was something they felt they never got the chance to. a lot of survivor's guilt. they're riddled with anxiety, which makes them a very neurotic individual. they want to help everyone all the time and they want everyone to feel happy/comfortable/safe/welcome, which it's not something 100% possible to do and they end up getting overwhelmed.

blair is non-binary and bisexual, and while they're out to their friends, they're not out to their family. they don't have a good relationship with their mother. they were close to their father.

regarding high school story: i've mentioned before, but i see the game taking place in 2013 and it's set on blair's third year of high school. their best friends are autumn (of course) and payton, and they're really close to nishan as well. they're a nerd in game. they're in the cheer team and in the math team. they start dating wes sometime after the heist at hearst <- this causes them shame and guilty and everything else due to the... dynamics of their friend group.

i think that's it. there's probably more i can talk about, but i think this paints a good picture of their character. i can answer any questions about them and/or expand further on anything i've shared here!

[sea-owl]

Who remembers my Gothic Featheringtons omegaverse posts? If you need a reminder here there are.

Part 1: Link

Part2: Link

Part 3: Link

So I've been thinking, I kinda want a rut post and gothic Penelope seems like one of the few who is okay with going with the flow and seeing what happens.

It shouldn't have counted as a chase. It shouldn't have. Colin couldn't even see her when his carriage followed her hired hack. His inner alpha disagreed though.

Must catch omega

He didn't even feel the signs coming on. Didn't feel his temper rising, in body heat or anger. Didn't notice that he was becoming more jittery. He just knew he needed to get to Penelope.

And god help her if he found her with a lover

Our omega. OURS

They stopped at a church. Stopping at a church wasn't that odd for her, the Featheringtons loved going to churches for the ghosts . . .at night. During the day though?

She was alone in the church, if someone were to walk in they would think she was a woman in mourning with her black dress and veil. Colin watched as she hid a letter. He had to get that letter, and grab his omega.

Penelope sniffed the air, her body growing tense. She could smell him. Good.

Penelope turned towards him. "Colin?"

Hearing her voice say his name, it snapped whatever control he had left. Colin rushed forward, caging her body with his own. One hand holding her close the other was under her veil and in her hair to pull her head back. His face buried in her neck, mouthing at the choker that protected her mating gland.

Pomegranate and lotus. Colin groaned at the smell.

Penelope gripped at his arms, her breathing becoming faster. "Colin? Colin what are you doing here?"

Colin pulled back, his grip on her did not loosen at all. He stared down at her, her brown eyes wide. "I followed you," he told her simply.

Penelope's jaw dropped. "You what?"

Colin didn't answer her, he was becoming more twitchy. He and his omega were too open. He had to get them home, but first he needed that letter. Letting go of her hair Colin reached for the letter.

"No!" Penelope exclaimed. "Please don't, it's a secret."

"A secret worth risking your safety over?" Colin growled at her.

"Colin please."

Colin fully let go, and Penelope ran off.

His eyes skimmed the letter. It wasn't to a lover, oh no it was something so much more dangerous to his omega.

your's truly,

Lady Whistledown

Colin's alpha voice came out full force. "Penelope stop!"

Penelope froze in the doorway of the church. Like all unmated omegas she was helpless to any alpha's voice. Colin would have to change that.

He grabbed hold of her again, he needed contact with her. Needed to know she wasn't going to leave him. Her hack was gone by the time they left the church. Good. He herded her into his carriage, hitting the top of the roof for the driver to go.

In the closed space Penelope began to take a closer look at him. "Colin you're acting like a beast in rut. It's . . .exciting."

Colin didn't like how little he was on Penelope. The heat was becoming too much, he felt like he couldn't breathe with this damn cravat on!

Colin pinned her under his body, his face burying into her neck.

"Please stay with me Penelope," Colin begged, mouthing at her chocker covered gland. His mouth trailed up to her jaw. "Stay." Lips ghosting over her's, her chest heaving into his. "Stay."

"Si, mi amor."

They trip back to his home in Bloomsbury was a short one. As soon as Colin's feet were steady on the ground he swooped Penelope into his arms. He couldn't risk his omega being taken away. Penelope wrapped her arms around his neck, her face flushed yet intrigued.

"Draw a bath, and no one is to disturb us until morning," Colin ordered.

Dunwoody nodded and Colin carried Penelope to his room. He would not let her go until the staff came and left with the bath. After that Colin began to loosen the fastenings on her dress, stripping her bare besides her chocker. Her skin was cool against his heated hands.

God he wants to be in her, but first he has to make sure she knows she's his.

He dumped her in the bath.

"Colin Bridgerton!" Penelope shrieked, the first time he's ever heard her do so. She opened her mouth again, probably to curse him in either English or Spanish, or maybe a mixture. Colin cut her off with a kiss. His hands washing her body with his soaps.

There, now she smells like pomegranate, lotus, and him.

Unable to take the heat any longer Colin began to strip himself as he made his way to his closet. As much as he wants her to be in nothing, he knows he needs to see her surrounded by him.

He goes through his shirts. He does not want her in white, it is not her. Penelope has always worn jewel tones and black. They are her family's happy colors. Blue, yes put her in blue. Not Bridgedrton blue, but a navy. Combine them both.

She looks gorgeous, like a goddess. Colin picks her back up again, this time laying her down on the bed. He once again attaches his lips to her mating gland. He lets out a growl when he realizes there is no choker blocking his path.

[maevelin]

"The stag was dead but at least it came to the party. "

It is quite chilling if you think the parallel.

Party = society / getting approval by submitting to your fate by the rules of others.

Dead stag = conforming to society. Becoming an ornament. Dying to survive.

Penelope choosing debling was pretty much her giving up on her dreams and settling down so she would suffer the least in the society who has been rejecting her. Penelope had to forgo and kill parts of herself in order to join the party because she had no other alternatives. A loveless marriage in favor of security. Compromise on the deepest level. So killing her spirit and conforming to the same society she exposes in her column was her becoming the dead stag. An apt analogy. And given by the bullet she had to take aka debling. That would gain the favor of her mother and what society had to offer to a woman. Getting out of the herd meant societal death. Becoming the dead stag meant giving in to society and paying the price for initially not wanting to.

In the same way Colin re-entered society looking smug but forgoing the sensitive parts of himself so to fit in. He felt lonely, he wore a facade. He removed thw connections who allowed him to be himself. He too had to become the dead stag to join in. To become the kind of man society would approve. Society would embrace.

And in the end...This is why debling could never work for penelope. This is why this new persona could never work for colin. Because both of them want to live and thrive.

P.s: Siri play Rise by Kate perry ❤️

[sparklyfaerie]

Zelink Week - Day 1: Yearning

Since Ao3 is still down, I'm posting my submissions here until such a time as I can get it on the archive. This is yesterday's. @zelinkcommunity

Title: Oblique Summary: In which Zelda is obvious, and Link still manages to completely miss what’s staring him in the face.

Words: 5,071 Rating: General Relationships: Zelink (Twilight Princess) Extract:

He doesn’t think there’s a man among the peerage that isn’t falling all over himself to ingratiate himself to her. “I find that hard to believe.” She’s not looking at him, peering off to the west. The sun has almost set, the sky above painted in pinks and oranges. She seems otherworldly in the fading light, almost like a fairy queen slipped into the mortal realms in her finery. The gold of her tiara glints in the sunset. “Oh, I’m fairly certain.” She shoots him a crooked smile. He tucks it away in his chest, knowing that very few are privileged enough to see her so informal. “He is, perhaps, the only man in all of Hyrule who does not seem interested in the least.”

Ao3 Tags: Talking Link (Legend of Zelda), Minor court politics, Zelda is just blatantly flirting, Link is not good at the nobility’s version of it though, Gossip, there’s not much more to this it’s literally just Link being dumb

Ao3 Link

Oblique

There are entirely too many people in the room for Link's liking. Having grown up in the pastures of Ordon, he's not one for large crowds; the crush of bodies makes him uneasy. Usually, when he's surrounded by this many living things, he's either herding them or fighting for his life.

He thinks the Queen might be displeased if he tries to do either in the middle of her ballroom.

He's only here because she wrote and asked him to attend. He's still a relatively social unknown, even if rumours of how he earned his barony abound. Some are close to the truth—that he saved Her Majesty's life on some unspecified occasion—and still more are utterly ridiculous. He'd once heard a rumour that he'd earned his title because he'd fought and slain a hundred shadow beasts at once during the invasion.

Link doesn't think he killed a hundred of them all together, let alone at once.

His doublet is overly-starched and bordering on uncomfortable, but the deep burgundy blends in better than his customary green ever could in such a sea of self-importance. He tugs at the collar and tries to fight the urge to rip it so he can breathe.

Link does not like formal events. He doesn't have the breeding or the manners to fit properly in such a crowd, so he keeps mostly to himself. There are other things he could be doing—teaching Colin and Talo swordplay, or dealing with that pesky bokoblin incursion in the Faron Woods, for example. Instead, he's spent his afternoon—and will probably spend a good part of his evening—pretending to be one of the painted elite.

It's times like these that he can still practically hear Midna muttering snide comments into his ear from his shadow, mocking the pretentiousness in the very air. He's been without her now for longer than she'd ever accompanied him, and yet, he still finds himself missing her sarcasm in times like this.

"Oh, excuse me!" A young lady stumbles into him, her cheeks warm with a telltale flush that speaks of inebriation. Fortunately for him, the drink that sloshes everywhere misses everything except the very toe of his boots. Unfortunately for the girl, it ends up staining the front of her bodice.

She cries out in dismay, and Link shrinks away as she begins to draw attention to herself. He vaguely recognises her—some minor lord's daughter. The type that he seems to attract every time he comes to town; eligible bachelorettes who are more enamoured with the title of 'Hero' than they are put off by his manners, and whose fathers are more covetous of his close relationship with the Queen than they object to his humble birth.

"Trying, are they not?"

Link does not give the Queen the satisfaction of jumping. She is one of the few people in the country that can manage to sneak up on him—though how she manages such a thing when she's so very visible in a public setting, Link doesn't know. He suspects magic.

She would probably tell him if he asks. Instead, he merely turns to her and bows in greeting. "They are the same as always. Good evening, Your Majesty."

Zelda, Hyrule's young Queen, is as beautiful as ever. Link can understand how some of the other young men lose their powers of speech around her—she's almost ethereal, her skin glowing in the light from the chandeleirs and shining off of chestnut hair. Blue eyes glitter at him over the rim of a wine glass as he straightens.

"Good evening, Link." She doesn't bother with formality with him, even in such a public setting. His status as her Favourite is well known and resented throughout the kingdom. "I'm pleased to see that you made it, despite your distaste for such company."

"You asked me to come." He looks around pointedly. "I assumed it was important."

She hands her empty wine glass to a passing serving girl. "Perhaps I simply wanted to see you." She teases lightly.

He raises an eyebrow. "There's no need to throw a party for that."

She smiles properly. It does wonders in making her look less like an ethereal Goddess and more like an approachable, mortal woman. She reaches out, and he offers her his elbow; she tucks her hand into the crook of his arm and sighs as they start to pace the edges of the ballroom. "The ball is to appease my Councillors."

"What do they want this time?"

"The usual." Zelda rolls her eyes. "Three years on the throne, and still no husband, let alone an heir. They're growing anxious. I must at least give the impression that I'm looking for a consort."

Link reaches over and pats her hand in sympathy. If he's sick of young women throwing themselves at him over his hero status, he can only begin to imagine how much worse she has it. Link has watched countless men try to win her favour over the past few years, some getting even more brazen as time goes on.

"That doesn't explain why I'm here." He points out mildly as they slip out through a large set of glass doors and into the gardens. The music follows them into the hedges as they disappear from view.

Link is not of a high enough station to be considered a suitable suitor for Her Majesty, so he doesn't know why his presence is required at such an event. In truth, at first, he hadn't really been interested in getting to know her—Midna's loss had still been fresh when she'd Named him. But time spent in each other's company in the years since has made him fond of her. Still, he doesn't forget himself.

He can be a confidant. Nothing more. He holds himself at the appropriate distance and does not presume to greater intimacy than he is entitled.

…even if he might have started to wish otherwise, recently.

She hums noncommittally. "Perhaps I wanted at least some sensible conversation tonight that does not contain empty flattery every other sentence." Her voice is bland.

Link smirks. "Your suitors aren't up to your standards, Your Majesty?"

She's quiet for a moment. "More like… the one I want doesn't seem to be interested in presenting himself as a suitor."

He shoots her an incredulous look. He doesn't think there's a man among the peerage that isn't falling all over himself to ingratiate himself to her. "I find that hard to believe."

She's not looking at him, peering off to the west. The sun has almost set, the sky above painted in pinks and oranges. She seems otherworldly in the fading light, almost like a fairy queen slipped into the mortal realms in her finery. The gold of her tiara glints in the sunset.

"Oh, I'm fairly certain." She shoots him a crooked smile. He tucks it away in his chest, knowing that very few are privileged enough to see her so informal. "He is, perhaps, the only man in all of Hyrule who does not seem interested in the least."

Link snorts. "Well, it's his loss." He says with conviction. "Any man who doesn't want you is a fool." Of course, he's not at all biased. And even if he were, it's true. She's the Queen. Quite literally no one in Hyrule could do better.

"Thank you." She lowers her voice. "But I think we had best return to the party, before the gossips miss us."

Link grimaces. "Probably a good idea." The last thing either of them needs is a scandal.

"Perhaps you'll be so good as to dance with me?" She asks lightly as they step out of the hedges and towards the doors again. "I hear you've been practicing."

Link wonders how she knows, but refuses to ask. He'd embarrassed himself a few months ago, at the last ball he'd attended, and he'd hired a private tutor to teach him to dance so it would never happen again.

It wasn't so that, if he ever got the opportunity to dance with the Queen, he could do so without tripping over his own feet. Again.

Certainly not.

He isn't going to complain, though.

"If Your Majesty wishes."

They slip into the ballroom unobserved, blending into the crowd as if they'd never left. Zelda tows him toward the dancefloor, where they slip into the circle of dancers while the band is beginning a slower piece. She releases his arm and he faces her, bowing before offering his hand.

She sets hers into his, her other hand coming to rest on his shoulder. His other hand finds her waist, and they begin to move with the music.

It's a simple waltz, thank the goddesses—one that he already knows. Zelda smiles encouragingly as he lifts his arm to spin her, her hand clinging to his until she returns to him. His palms are sweaty beneath his gloves, his heart beating rapidly as she steps back into his personal space.

They dance a few measures, the Queen's eyes getting brighter. "It seems I must reevaluate my assessment of your skill." She murmurs as he moves to spin her again. When she comes back into his hold, her lips are quirking. "I must place you solidly in the intermediate. You've improved, from what I've been told."

The back of Link's neck warms. "You heard about that?"

Zelda laughs a little, a slight chuckle that doesn't draw attention. "I think everyone has heard about that."

He can feel his cheeks heating up now, feeling every inch the farmhand dressed in finery that he is. It was bad enough that some two dozen nobles had witnessed his embarrassment the last time—to know that the gossip has made it to the ears of the Queen is mortifying.

The dance ends, Link spinning Zelda to a perfect stop. He reluctantly lets go of her hand. He bows—she curtseys.

His fingers tingle beneath his glove. Idly, he wonders what the skin of her hands feels like. He's never seen her without gloves of some sort. Would her fingers be callused from all her fencing and archery, like his? Or would her moisturisers keep her skin supple and smooth?

He shakes himself from these thoughts as she's asked to dance by another man, and he steps aside as she accepts with courtly politeness. She looks at him over her shoulder and smiles, almost invitingly, as she allows herself to be led away.

Link flexes his hand and tells himself not to get any ideas.

She invites him to go riding the next day, as part of a small, intimate party consisting of her closest friends.

He accepts. Of course he accepts—one does not refuse an invitation from the Queen unless they are ill or otherwise incapacitated.

In reality, it's an excuse to take a picnic by the river. Link, never one to be idle, spends most of his time strolling along the riverbank, eyes alert for roving bokoblins. He knows the Royal Guard are on watch, but he knows these fields better than them; there are any number of caves or thickets that a monster or five could be hiding in.

Zelda joins him after nearly an hour, frowning at his intensity. "Do you see something?"

He shakes his head. "Being in the open makes me… tense."

When he'd been roaming Hyrule as a wandering swordsman, he'd been beset by beasts on the roads more times than he could count. Even now, he never spends more time out in the open than he has to.

She smiles indulgently, putting a hand on his arm. "I sent a scouting party out this morning. There is nothing here."

Link hums, eyes flicking to her before surveying the area again.

"Do you know this area well?" She asks lightly, keeping pace with him. "I must admit that I don't manage to travel beyond the castle walls all that often anymore."

He nods. "Do you see the Bridge of Eldin, over there?" He points to the structure in the northeast. The top of the watchtower is just visible over the rolling hills.

She follows with her eyes. "Yes?"

"I fought King Bulblin there." He says matter-of-factly. He knows she likes stories of his travels, having asked him for details before. She'd been trapped in her tower—and then comatose, after saving Midna's life—for most of the occupation. "He'd kidnapped a boy from my village and was parading him about like a trophy. I gave chase."

She stares out over the hills. "Was the boy alright?"

Link nods. "He's fine. I've been training him for the past few years as a favour. His father was the one who taught me swordplay."

She nods, frowning thoughtfully. "I recall that you introduced him, once. Rost, was it?"

"Rusl." Link corrects. He can't hold it against her—she'd met the man once, very briefly, more than two years ago. That she remembers the encounter at all is impressive, considering how many people she meets on any given day.

"Oh, of course. I apologise."

He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it. He'd be honoured you even remember meeting him at all."

Her smile is melancholy. "He was a part of the resistance that assisted in liberating Hyrule Castle. Of course I remember meeting them." She tightens her grip on his arm, drawing him to look at her. "Won't you come sit? You haven't eaten; there might still be a sandwich or two left over. I promise you that the Guard have our protection well in hand."

He wants to refuse, but she looks at him from under her lashes—a feat, given that she's taller than him—pretty face drawn into a frown of concern. He sighs. "Very well, Your Majesty."

The blanket is vacant by the time they reach it to sit, its occupants scattered about the riverbank. Zelda keeps him company as he picks over the remnants of the food, keeping up a light stream of conversation about inane topics that don't truly interest either of them. He's careful to keep a proper, respectful distance between them, but she keeps leaning in to him, smiles tugging at the corner of her lips.

She practically ignores the rest of her guests unless they approach to ask a question—and though Link basks in her attention, he worries that rumours of her neglect will begin to circulate at court. There are already whispers of dissatisfaction with her single status. She doesn't need rumours circulating about her and him of all people.

But she doesn't seem to be concerned, smiling at him as if she doesn't have a care in the world until the Captain calls that it's time to return to the Castle.

He tries not to be too pleased, and fails.

He overhears the serving women without really meaning to, dropping by the kitchens for a late breakfast after sleeping in. It's not an uncommon occurrence during his stays at the Castle for him to oversleep and miss breakfast; the staff have come to expect him.

"That's what I heard." Two young women are huddled over by the door as Link waits for the head cook to bring him something. He can't see them, but he can hear their words clearly enough. "Her Majesty is sweet on the farm boy from Ordon."

Link freezes.

"Well, who wouldn't be?" Her conversation partner titters. "A little on the shorter side, but he's handsome. And he's got those gruff country manners that those silly noble girls like in their book heroes."

"Shh! Cheshi will hear you!"

"Oh, pish. She's busy." But the speaker lowers her voice. "Do you think it's true, though? Would Her Majesty really—?"

The other woman scoffs. "What woman wouldn't? Gods above, I'd takea crack if I thought he'd go for it."

A giggle. "Why don't you? He's so uptight. He might like a tumble."

"Oi!" A third voice shouts across the room. "You two! Get back to work! We ain't got enough hands for you two to be flappin' yer gums all day!"

There's some grumbling and shuffling of cloth as they go back to work, leaving Link wide-eyed and filled with dread on the other side of the wall.

He's not bothered by the comments regarding himself. The Gods know he's heard it all before, having been approached by more than one brazen chambermaid or kitchenhand. It's the rumours surrounding the Queen's supposed interest that bother him more.

A rumour like that could materially damage her chances of making a good match down the line, if it stuck around. Nobility are proud—even the merest whiff of interest in someone viewed as 'lower class' could cause her judgement to be questioned. And Link knows enough about castle life to know that if even the kitchen staff—who are usually very isolated from the rest of the household—are talking about something, then the rest of the castle is probably talking about it, too.

He stalks away without even getting his breakfast, already mentally planning his departure the following morning. It's a shame—it's his first real visit in months, and he'd been enjoying himself for the most part. Zelda has made more time for him this time around than she usually does, perhaps sensing that he'd begun to miss her.

Which is a stupid sentiment. She's the Queen. She has more important things to do than indulge a country-bred ranch hand, even if she'd given him noble rank.

There is a page stationed outside his door when he reaches his chambers, blinking up at him in awe as he approaches. He gets that a lot from the pages and squires in the castle—boys who aspire to grow up and become heroes, looking up to someone who is already labelled as such.

"Pardon, milord," the boy's accent has an eastern twang. Most likely, he's from around the Kakariko region. "But Her Majesty wanted me to deliver this." He holds out a folded sheet of paper, held together by a wax seal.

"Thank you." Link slips the boy a blue rupee, and he scurries off.

He doesn't break the seal until he's in his chambers, mouth pressed into a line as he unfolds it. Usually, a written message from the Queen is an invitation of sorts.

Inside, he's proven correct; it's an invitation to take supper with her in her chambers. He feels a mixture of anticipation and dread. This will only fuel the rumours.

But he can't refuse. She's the Queen; an invitation from her is an honour that he doesn't want to turn down.

She notes his unease right away. As soon as the serving girl closes the door behind her, Zelda peers into his face with concern. "Is everything alright, Link?"

"I'm fine." He lies. "I was just considering the best route home at this time of year." It's not technically a lie; spring rains usually flood the roads, making passage difficult if one is unprepared.

She blinks at him in surprise. "You're leaving? Already?" She straightens in her seat. "Have you had bad news from home?" He shakes his head. "Then why, if I may be so bold as to ask? Do you truly find castle life to be so unpleasant that it puts that dour look on your face? You've only been here for two days."

Link frowns down at his dinner. He realises that he's hungry; he'd skipped lunch, too, in his haste to make preparations. "Not at all."

In truth, he doesn't feel exactly comfortable in the castle. The day to day aspects of actually living here are fine; his discomfort is more due to the nobility sniffing around in everyone's business.

He is not a proud man, exactly, but he knows that he's seen and done more in his short life than many of them will achieve in generations. He knows himself and is comfortable with who he is and his role in history… but he will never like the feeling of being scrutinised and found wanting.

She spreads her napkin on her lap and picks up her fork, spearing a piece of roasted vegetable and looking at him with raised eyebrows. "Then what is the matter?"

He shrugs—a casual gesture that he would never indulge in with an audience. Zelda has always insisted they do not stand on ceremony when it is just the two of them, perhaps sensing his unease with learning to navigate court politics. He's gotten better, but she has yet to insist on any kind of formality between them. He suspects she finds the lack of it refreshing.

She lowers her fork, her expression inscrutable. "I… have not made you uncomfortable, have I?"

He looks up at her, confusion writ clear on his face. "What?"

She shrugs, a line creasing between her brows. "My attentions have not been exactly… subtle." She presses her lips into a line.

He stares. "Attentions?"

His confusion appears to be contagious; she peers at him with an incredulous look on her face. "You… have noticed, haven't you?" She asks bluntly. "I have been obvious."

"Noticed what?" He blinks, re-examining the past two days. She has certainly sought out his company often—but that's no different than usual. She quite often keeps him close. He'd always assumed that it was to protect him from the vicious tongues of her nobles while he found his footing, and then became a habit borne of friendship.

She exhales in a huff that might have been laughter. "Goddess above, I cannot believe it." She mutters, more to herself than him, he thinks. To him, she says "I have been making a fool of myself for months, it seems."

They stare at each other over their meal, steam warping the air between them. When it becomes obvious that he has no idea what she's talking about, she continues, "Link, I have been trying to gauge your amenability to beginning a courtship for nearly a year. And you haven't even noticed!"

"What?" He croaks. He remembers their conversation the night before last, in the gardens. "But—you said—you said you wanted someone who wasn't interested?"

She looks like she wants to shake him, frustration plain on her features. "And so you appear to be. You are incredibly hard to read when you want to be, you know. I suppose I should have just asked, but I do need some plausible deniability in case of rejection. Aside from making our relationship awkward, if word got around that I had been turned down, it would… well, it would not reflect well on either of us."

He sits back in his chair, staring openly at her. He has a vague suspicion that his mouth is open. "I had… no idea." He has been so careful not to get too close, conscious of wagging tongues and dismissing her familiar overtures as friendly behaviour.

He feels like a fool.

Well, maybe not a fool, exactly. Any reasonable person would have drawn the same conclusions in his position—a lowborn man, only recently elevated and who would usually be beneath the Queen's notice. Perhaps poleaxed is a better word.

She stands abruptly, skirts swishing around her ankles as she moves to look out the window. When he follows, he's astounded to see that her cheeks are pink. "Well, I suppose this is an answer of sorts to my question." She says airily, feigning unaffectedness. "Please, forget I spoke."

He sputters. "What? No!"

Zelda grimaces a little, looking at him from the corner of her eye. "Link, please. It is bad enough that—" she purses her lips. "Never mind."

"I'm sorry, I really had no idea." Link cringes inwardly.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." She makes a dismissive gesture. "I am merely astonished that you didn't notice." She laughs lightly, the tone ringing false in Link's ears. "Even the servants have been gossiping about it. One of my handmaids informed me just two hours ago."

Link presses his lips into a line. He looks out the window. "I overheard the gossip this morning, in the kitchens."

"And you didn't think to connect it to my behaviour?" She stares at him, disbelief written all over her face.

He shakes his head. "I'm aware of my circumstances, Your Majesty." He nearly trips over his words in his rush to explain himself. "My position is a very precarious one; your court barely tolerates me, most of the time. I dismissed the rumours as malicious gossip."

"Malicious?" She scoffs, tossing her head imperiously. "Your position is secure, Link. If anyone implies otherwise… well, quite frankly, I do not care what they think."

"You should." He asserts, frowning himself, now. "They all hold wealth and power—"

"At my leisure." She reminds him. "I can revoke a title as easily as I can grant one, remember."

"I can't see your council approving." He presses his lips into a line.

She shrugs a shoulder. "The Privy Council is split on the matter." She admits. "But I am the Queen. They are merely my advisors. All that matters is that whomever I ultimately attach myself to is beneficial for Hyrule."

"Then that should exclude me from the get-go."

She rolls her eyes at him. "Oh, yes, the hero that the entire populace looks up to should be excluded from the list of men who would be good for my kingdom." She drawls sarcastically. "It is a moot point; your feelings on the matter are clear. I apologise for my presumption."

He gapes at her. "Presumption?"

"I assure you," she turns her smile onto him, "that your indifference will not change—"

"Wait." He holds up a hand. "Indifference? What indifference? I never said I was indifferent."

"It's alright." She says soothingly. "It was not an offer of marriage. You haven't offended me. There's no need to pretend—"

"I'm not pretending anything." He runs his hands down his face in frustration. "Your Majesty, I am far from indifferent."

That shuts her up. "Excuse me?"

He sighs, rubbing his temples. "Perhaps my low station doesn't matter to you, Your Majesty," he begins carefully, "but it does to others. I've been attempting to… not fuel gossip. It's not that I'm not—that I wouldn't be… if it were up to me…" he clicks his tongue in aggravation.

"Link." She finally turns to him, tone serious. "If I were to ask you if you wanted to—to begin a formal courtship… what would your answer be?"

"I would… well, I would ask 'why me'?" He answers honestly.

She frowns in thought. "You are a good man." She answers slowly. "You treat me with respect, but without sycophancy. And your service to Hyrule—"

Link holds up a hand. "If you're only trying to… reward me, or something, please—"

"I'm not."

They stare at each other in silence. What must she be thinking, he wonders. He admires her mind—sharp, analytical, practical. She's not a woman given to sentiment. Every move she makes is calculated thrice over.

Which is why this conversation makes absolutely no sense to him.

"Your qualifications are unorthodox, it's true." She allows. "But that does not mean that you are without them. I respect you, and I enjoy your company. You are attractive. I… well, to be frank, I have great affection for you, and would like to see if this relationship could be expanded upon. It is not an offer of marriage—not yet." She waves her hand between them, as if to lighten the mood. "But if we find that we are as well suited as I hope, I may extend one."

Link forces himself to breathe. "I see."

"It is alright if you wish to decline." She offers gently. "It will not change our friendship."

"I don't want to decline." He hastens to reassure her. "But—you know what people are going to say."

"I don't care what people say." She shakes her head. "There is not a single objection that any of my council has made that was legitimate. There will be talk, of course, but you know as well as I do that most of the nobility are selfishly out to further their own agenda. They will complain no matter who I choose. And I could certainly do much worse."

Link finds his lips twitching despite himself. "You could be interested in Duke Tirrul, I suppose."

"Exactly." Her eyes crinkle at the corners with her smile. She takes one of his hands, folding it between both of hers. "I would like to see where our relationship could lead. Are you open to that?"

The answer comes easily. "I am, if you don't mind the gossip."

"I do not."

"Then there's just one problem."

"Oh?"

He rubs the back of his neck and grins sheepishly. "I have no idea what a formal courtship entails. Where I come from, these things are simple. I assume this will be very different."

She laughs, releasing his hand. Carefully, she tucks her hand into the crook of his arm and tugs him back to the table. "Don't worry. I will guide you. Or," her smile becomes something of a smirk, "perhaps I can hire you an etiquette tutor. We would not wish for you to misstep."

Link groans as he takes his seat. The food has cooled, but it's not yet cold. "I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

She chuckles as she sits. "Most likely not." She acknowledges, fixing her napkin on her lap and picking up her discarded fork, popping the vegetable speared onto it into her mouth. She chews thoughtfully before swallowing. "I'm sure they'll find something else to talk about, though, in time."

"Great." Link groans, poking at his meal with his fork. "Just great."

He looks at the Queen over the table, truly allowing himself to read into the lines of her smile for the first time. Her eyes are bright as she brings a glass of wine to her lips, and he wonders that he hadn't been able to recognise the fondness in her gaze before now.

He supposes he might have, if he'd allowed himself to.

"So," he picks up his fork, "when can I expect this new tutor?"

She chuckles. "I'll begin looking for one tomorrow."