#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.

[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.

[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

[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!

[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.

[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.

[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.

[starlight-eclipsed]

Hello again!

I come with more questions about LU Doppelgänger!

First off, what is going on with Twilight and Legato? We know that Twilight and Legend are fairly close in Linked Universe due to their lost love trauma session but Twilight and Legato don’t really spend much time together in the series. Legend even mentions it in Like a Rag Doll—Legato and Twilight just don’t interact much—but we also know that Twilight considers Legato a younger brother and tries his best to look out for the “younger” hero when he can (fire pit incident, herding them in Legend’s era). So I am really curious to know how Twilight came to view Legato as a younger brother and their relationship after Legato takes the blow for him!

There is also the possibility that Twilight was thinking about Colin instead of Legato in that moment too.

I have another batch of heroes that I am curious to know their views on Legato over the course of the series and in the final work! Mainly Sky, Wind, and Hyrule! I think I can puzzle out some of the other heroes thoughts in the last work:

I’m curious about Sky because he was really going through it in this version of the Sunset arc but was holding himself together because it would be a mistake to act rashly so I really wanna known how he is dealing in the wind down (and then the subsequent wind up with seeing a Legend statue). He doesn’t know Legato that well but he does know Legend pretty well at this point so seeing Legend panic over the implications of the statue is definitely going to be his main focus in the last work before Legato comes in with his revelations.

Wind is another interesting perspective because he’s really been the only hero invested in unraveling the timeline and he now has new data of another timeline split so I’m wondering how he’s dealing with that knowledge. There’s also probably a comfort or increased camaraderie between the two since they’re the alternate (not mainline successors). He also figures out more than he says so I’m always curious to know what he’s thinking about. He probably won’t come up with any theories until the shock of everything wears off though.

Hyrule is also going through it during that last work because he just got the news that he and Legato are both Legend’s successors so he’s having a day. He was just going to explore this kingdom but manages to run into an exact statue replica of his predecessor and then said predecessor has a freak out about it. Then the friend whose place you are in comes back and lore dumps so hard it changes what you know of your history. I don’t think he’s going through it as hard as Legend but he really is having a weird day. Anyway that’s why I’m curious about what going on in his head!

I’m pretty sure Warriors is going through the last work just constantly mentally updating his Legato fact sheet. He was upset about not knowing enough about Legato and now he has to know all of that but he’s probably doing his best to keep everyone calm while waiting for Legato to come back. Part of me thinks he’s the one who made a noise when Legato admitted to not considering anywhere he had a home since he was kind of fixated on it in his Like a Rag Doll chapter but I can easily image Four, Wind, or Legend making it too. Not sure how he feels about the numerous timelines though? It’s not directly relevant to him given how he’s not a downfall hero but his entire adventure involved people from different times showing up in his era so there’s definitely interest in timelines on a purely information gathering need.

I think Wild is probably getting stabbed a bit in the chest during the last work because Legato’s life definitely isn’t all sunshine and rainbows like he’s portrayed it as. The fact that Legato doesn’t have a home really is also probably that knife because Wild is the hero from after the Calamity but he still managed to make a home in it. The fact that Legato no longer considers anywhere home must make him feel worse about his words back then. Legato might have forgiven him but Wild is going to remember his mistakes. Honestly don’t think he cares about the timeline thing but does Wild know that the Trị-Force grants wishes? I don’t know if thats a mechanic in BOTW? It could be archived somewhere in the royal library pre-Calamity and Zelda might now but not sure if Wild would.

Not sure how accurate some of my character reads are but this is my best guess on what everyone was going through on last 2 works!

Hello!!

In short: Twilight took one look at the younger heroes at the start of this quest and immediately adopted them. Legato and Legend are correct in the sense that Twilight hasn't spent very long with Legato, but haven't accounted for the fact that Legato is small and cute. It's all over the minute that Legato realizes that Twilight can be convinced to let him get away with anything.

(One of the epilogue fics for the series is called "Puppy Dog Eyes", and features Twilight trying to spend quality time with Legato.)

Overall, Twilight does see things that remind him of Colin in Legato, but for the record he is aware of their differences--especially considering how Legato handled his injury and has been acting throughout the quest so far.

Regarding your thoughts on their reactions:

Sky: Yeah, he is immediately focused on how Legato and Legend are acting regarding this, but afterwards he will be thinking about the whole matter of legacy. All the heroes he's traveling with seem to be connected to each other, with the exception of Four and himself. But now being faced with evidence of what Legend will leave behind, Sky is definitely giving his hand in founding the kingdom some serious thought.

Wind...I'll hold off on saying too much since that's a topic for a future fic, but he's definitely comparing Legato's situation to that of himself.

Hyrule: Oh he's going though it. Mostly because--despite what Legato said about being from an alternate timeline--Hyrule is mentally sorting through what he knows of ancient history and is trying to figure out where Legato would fit in. Specifically, he's wondering how much time is between Legato and Legend.

Warriors: Is brainstorming methods to kidnap keep Legato at the end of this quest. He can handle the timeline revelations, but Legato just basically admitted to being a kid living alone with zero adults that have his best interest at heart. So yeah, Warriors is operating on the logic that when the divine Triforce yeets a child at you to give them a home, that kid's family now.

You got Wild's reaction nailed down, so I'll just elaborate: yeah he's trying to figure out what the whole deal with the Triforce is without getting the reaction Sky did with the "who's Ganon" debacle. It doesn't help that everyone seems to have very different experiences with it :b

[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.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

maybe a wolfie reveal fic where he’s nervous to tell them but they’re like “wow now you can herd goats even faster :)” and it’s all wholesome and hdksosksls I have feelings about the ordianians 👍

“You told them?!” Link nearly squealed at Colin.

“Well they panicked when they saw a wolf in the forest!” Colin protested worriedly.

Link wanted to pull his hair out. This was a nightmare. Glancing out the window, he saw that nearly the entire village had gathered outside his home. He was surprised they weren’t armed, but he supposed the barbs they would throw in their words would suffice.

Taking a shaky breath, he stepped out the door, watching them with apprehension.

“Hey, there he is!” Fado said. “Link! Why didntcha tell us that ya could turn into a wolf! Now you can defend the goats even better! Though I guess they’d be a bit scared if they saw ya like that.”

“Do you like… to play fetch when you’re like that?” One of the children asked.

“I bet he can smell your stinky feet because I know you didn’t wash it at the river like Ma said you were supposed to!” Talo said, pointing to Malo accusingly.

Can you talk when you’re a wolf? How do we tell if it’s you or a real wolf?” their mother, Pergie, asked.

Link stared, bemused. This was… not the reaction he was expecting.

Talo suddenly let out a wailing howl and then looked at Link excitedly. “What did I say? What did I say?”

“Eh…” Link stammered, not knowing what the heck to do.

“You said nothing because you can’t howl right,” Colin argued crossing his arms and standing in front of his older brother. “When he’s a wolf he’s still him, so he doesn’t play with sticks.”

Link ruffled Colin's hair, relieved to have someone defending him. “Unless I’m going after you with a wooden sword, that is.”

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Salomé Sibonex

Published: Dec 5, 2023

Until just a few years ago, I didn’t feel like I had a place in this world. That’s over 25 years of wondering why my life didn’t look more like the lives of people around me. Even my thoughts were different from the thoughts of people around me, for better and for worse. Before most people were using social media for anything besides posting pictures of food, I was accusing people of cultural appropriation. Insecurity, naivety, and intelligence are a dangerous combination. 

In the last few years, I’ve lost my naivety, improved my insecurities, and kept the intelligence (this too, is a dangerous combination). Where I once played along with destructive leftism, like using any political disagreement as an excuse to attack people and consequently suppress my underdeveloped sense of self, I now follow a different compass. 

Something changed in me after watching people who endlessly argued that words were violence suddenly defend real violence–mobs ganging up on individuals–if it was done in the name of BLM. The leftist ideas I previously scooped up on social media had gone from fringe to mainstream and were playing out in front of me; now executed in the real world, they were spilling blood with no remorse. The familiar feeling of being the odd one out returned. I knew this was a situation where I was compelled to do the unpopular: voice an opinion no one else seemed to hold. But this time, I was driven by my values instead of my insecurities. 

I couldn’t see it from the peer group and media landscape I was in, but I wasn’t the only one finding lines they wouldn’t cross. Speaking out against people misusing the pursuit of racial equality to justify destruction led me to others who were also willing to go against the herd. I discovered principled individualist thinkers like Ayishat Akanbi. But there were many other people still finding the strength to speak up.

The years 2020 and 2021 will be remembered for many reasons, but perhaps the most inspiring is that many people found their voice. I started to notice a pattern: a unique type of person willing to bear insults and isolation rather than go along with bad ideas. These people are the black sheep and they show up any time a group starts going off the rails. 

We saw doctors like Jay Bhattacharya speak out against vaccine mandates and lockdowns; we saw black intellectuals like Ayishat Akanbi and Africa Brooke speak out about anti-racist ideology and cancel culture; we saw academic biologists like Colin Wright speak out against the spread of a gender ideology that denies the existence of two sexes; and we saw a surge of people calling themselves “politically homeless” as a rejection of the rigid political identities being pushed on them. My years of always feeling like the odd one out ended when I found other people who weren’t afraid to be black sheep too. We’ve been too caught up in the madness to notice, but we’re living through a renaissance–not just of the individual–but of the individual who dares to defy the group. 

In a time when destructive collectivism threatens to steamroll over individual freedom, understanding the psychology behind the black sheep concept will help us overcome it.

One of the earliest and most famous psychological experiments about the black sheep effect was conducted in 1988. Researchers had Belgian students rank four distinct groups by their likeability: likable Belgian students (in-group), unlikeable Belgian students (in-group), likable North African students (out-group), and unlikable North African students (out-group). Who would offend you most: an offensive person who’s more or less similar to you? This question adds a crucial element to the equation: identity. It wasn’t the unlikable North African students who the Belgian students found most unlikable, it was the other Belgian students. The black sheep effect explains some of the ugliest group behavior around. It’s how you end up with leftists calling liberals “nazis” and white “anti-racists” diagnosing any black person who challenges them with “internalized racism.” 

The black sheep effect is dependent on another concept: social identity theory. This theory explains how our group identity informs our individual identity. When your group is challenged by someone from within, it isn’t just your group, but your sense of self that’s challenged. Research has found that people are more likely to lash out at ingroup members who deviate from their group’s norms than outgroup members. It isn’t men who challenge a feminist’s identity the most–it’s women who don’t agree with the feminist narrative. 

The key to understanding the black sheep effect is understanding the motives that drive people to hate deviant ingroup members: it isn’t you, it’s them. Even if you’re correct in pointing out that “anti-racism” contradicts the humanistic philosophy that made the civil rights movement successful, as a black person who rejects “anti-racism,” you’re a more dangerous threat to the stability of the anti-racist movement than actual racists. This dynamic is crucial to understanding the black sheep effect today: punishing black sheep isn’t necessarily motivated by people deeply caring about their cause or simply having another perspective. The black sheep threatens the ego of people who gain their identity from that group–often at the expense of progress.

Destructive groups pursue the same, singular goal above all else: self-preservation. Unlike a group of gardeners, a group of feminists is more likely to become destructive because their individual identities are more deeply informed by their group identity. It’s a bigger statement about who you are to label yourself a feminist than it is to label yourself a hiking enthusiast. This might be the most dangerous and yet least recognized element in today’s surge of collectivism. 

The stated goal of a group is not always the true goal of that group. The best way to discern the true goal of any person or group is to look at their actions more than their words. People do what they are most motivated to do; people say what they think is most expedient. When we saw anti-racist activists say that they were concerned about the hardships and inequality faced by black Americans, but we also saw them encourage and praise riots that led to arrests, death, and community destruction for those same people, the stated goals of the group didn’t align with its actions. 

Similarly, neo-conservatives claim to care about protecting Americans, but consistently send Americans to die in unnecessary wars; feminists claim to care about empowering women, but push women to adopt cynical, victimized outlooks; leftists claim to care about the poor, but insist the only solution to poverty is destroying the economic system that’s lifted the most people out of it. In all of these groups, the gap between stated goals and true goals isn’t just hypocritical–it’s blatantly counter-productive. More than ever before, it needs to become common knowledge that actions speak louder than words, especially for political ideologies. 

A lot of the groups that are fighting to control us are primarily fighting for nothing more than their self-preservation. And when a group is more interested in its own existence than the achievement of its stated goals, chaos follows.

These are the foot soldiers you’ve met online today who will attack anything endlessly. They are the people you’ve seen in viral protest videos who rabidly yell about a problem while offering no reasonable solutions. These symptoms reveal a group has entered a death spin of self-preservation for its own sake. 

Healthy groups are genuinely concerned with the variety of perspectives their members have on how to achieve their stated goals. You can see this in any productive business where leaders engineer ways to get honest feedback from employees. Anyone who cares about effectively achieving a goal isn’t just open to criticism, they’re hungry for it. They know about concepts like Johari’s window, which explains that every individual has blindspots other people can fill in. When people are searching for solutions, any input on how to better solve the problem is welcome. 

A group that tolerates its black sheep is more effective because it avoids becoming an echo chamber, where new ideas are kept out and stagnation is inevitable. Because the black sheep is a part of the group but tends to be a person with a unique vantage point or an unusual background, they can offer the most accurate and creative suggestions. The black sheep is a treasure to any effective collective: a genuine member with insider knowledge who’s different enough to fill in the crucial blindspots that members too immersed in the group can’t see. It’s why conversations between feminists and liberal women who reject that label could offer a fountain of insight into women’s needs today, but it’s also why that conversation is rare.

The black sheep’s strength isn’t just the unique perspective they offer to their group, it’s also the red flag they raise when that group attacks them. Any group that can’t tolerate constructive criticism from those who share its goal is no longer primarily pursuing that goal–it's pursuing self-preservation at the expense of that goal.

Black sheep are the canary in the coal mine. The treatment they receive from their group reveals if that group is doing the necessary reflection to hold rational beliefs and stop destructive beliefs from spreading. 

Leftism today is the perfect example of a group that’s lost its mechanism for hitting the brakes on counter-productive ideas. Instead, many leftists hunt for the nearest heretic to punish for minor deviations, like mixing up someone’s pronouns, not using “inclusive” language, or failing to perform the correct level of collective outrage over the latest issue. This practice has been going on for so long in online leftist spaces that most of the heretics being picked on aren’t actually black sheep–the genuine black sheep with considered differences were pushed out long ago. Today’s targets are merely making naive mistakes, but are picked apart by other members desperate to reinforce their own in-group status. When a group has run off all its black sheep and is finding stand-ins for ritual punishment, you can be sure that group is on a path of destruction.

When I started publicly criticizing the destructive elements of leftism, I had no other political group to call home while doing so. I knew the ideology was wrong, but I still felt the pressure to mince my words and tread lightly enough to avoid becoming the next target of a social mobbing. I’d seen how individuals were torn apart in the virtual public square by anonymous attackers joining together to fuel a fire that would burn its victim in 1,000 different ways, 1,000 different times. While I’d much rather be attacked by a cyber mob than a real one, there’s something uniquely freakish about watching a digital effigy of yourself be spit on and ripped apart for all the world to watch. 

For a while, I was torn between truth and fear; I wanted to speak clearly, but I knew that would put me clearly in the crosshairs of people with nothing to do but ruin my life. Once I realized that safety at the expense of integrity is a hamster’s life, I felt ready to bear the consequences of fully pursuing my values. Suffering in service of something meaningful didn’t exactly feel nice, but it felt powerful. Suddenly, bearing the emotional tantrums and attempted abuse from strangers was the obvious choice.

When I learned to see myself as a black sheep, it felt like the missing piece of a puzzle. A life that had always felt unusual suddenly made sense. I was exactly where I belonged all along–the odd one out who held a mirror to the others. If you want to develop your own perspective on life, you have to stand in places that few others are. Humans have created symbols since the beginning of our history. We look to them for meaning to bring it to our own lives. The black sheep is a powerful symbol; it encapsulates both the problem of our time and the solution. Perhaps more people would trust their gnawing sense that something’s wrong and push back on destructive groups if they realized they aren’t just the odd one out–they’re exactly where they’re meant to be.

[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 ❤️

[the-hinky-panda]

The Dog: Part II

Author’s Note: So if you guys follow @bullet-prooflove​, you know that The Dog and The North Star take place in the same fic universe. The vet in this story does have a name (Meredith) but I will continue to write her as a reader by using you/your and have Mike refer to her by using nicknames only. All this to say I’m not sure how to label this now since she has a name but it won’t be used in this fic. That being said, here’s Part II! 

*************

You never wanted to know the warning signs of a seizure. 

But you do. 

In fact, you notice it in Mike Duarte at the same time as his dog, Bono. The dog moves immediately to Mike, taps his hand twice with his nose and tries to herd him closer to the bench seating in the room. It starts with Mike’s coloration, an odd mixture of patchy flushing up his neck. There’s an uptick in his breathing, a slight panicky edge to his inhalations. Next comes the struggle with speaking, the confusion of why he can’t form words. That’s when you see the realization come over his face and he sits down on the bench. 

At that point, you move towards Mike, quickly tugging his jacket off and balling it up to use as a protective pillow between his head and the wall. When your brother would have his seizures, he would try to fight against it, frustration giving way to anger. But there is just a weary resignation with Mike. His eyes go glassy and start to roll but you’re able to steady him, support him, in the corner of the bench. You slip the jacket under his head as Bono jumps up into his lap and lays across his knees, a canine seat belt to keep him from falling forward. 

It’s not as dramatic as tv shows make seizures out to be. There’s no foaming at the mouth or wild twitching and jerking of his muscles. There’s an occasional tremor, a curling and uncurling of his fingers, rapid eye movement, and a hitch in his breathing. Overall, it’s fairly sedate on the outside. What is happening neurologically however is another story. You reach out with your foot and hook your toe around the little stool on wheels that you sit on from time to time to make notes in charts or clip nails. It slides easily over and you sit next to Mike, smoothing your hands over his arms and hands. 

It only lasts three minutes but you feel like you’ve run a marathon when he starts to come out of it. His muscles relax first, the rapid eye movement slowing. Next his breathing starts to even out, the labored breathing becoming steadier. You wrap your hands around his wrists, your thumbs lightly running over the raised skin of his scars and the cursive script of a tattoo. Your hands easily slip into his, the pads of your fingers pressing into his broad palms. 

“Mike? Can you hear me?” 

Bono raises his head and whines quietly and Mike releases a shaky breath. “‘M okay.” 

You still keep a light hold on one of his wrists, his pulse beating under the pads of your fingers and you tick off the beats on your watch. His heart rate is slowing at a good pace. Bono jumps down but sits between Mike’s knees and rests his head on one of Mike’s legs. You gently guide his hands onto the dog’s head and watch as his fingers move through the soft fur, the strokes becoming more and more steady.

The door opens and Mona peeks in again. “Sorry, thought you were done…do you need me to call someone?” 

You give Mike a good look over. His coloration has just about returned to normal, his pulse is within a good pace, and his breathing is not labored. “I think we’re okay.” 

Mike releases a long breath through his nose. “Yeah. I’m okay.” 

“Mona, tell Dr. Ramirez that I’ll be heading home, okay.” 

Mona knows your story, your history with your brother Colin. She  knows your personality too, so there’s only one question that she needs to ask. “Do you want me to grab Diego?” 

“If he’s not too busy. And a bottle-” 

“Of water, got it.” 

Mona leaves and Mike starts to stand up but you gently push him back down. “Let’s wait to move around until Diego gets here.” 

He reaches behind his head and dislodges his jacket. His eyes are looking everywhere except at you. “Who’s Diego?” 

You take the jacket from him and shake it out, helping him back into it. “He’s a tech who works in the back with the large dogs. Pit bulls are his specialty.” 

“And humans who have seizures, apparently,” he grumbles. 

“It’s more of a liability issue. I don’t want to help you out to my car, have you fall, and then you sue me and the clinic.” 

He gives you a surprised look, his eyes finally meeting yours, but you smile back at him and he nods in understanding of your attempt at humor. “You don’t need to give me a ride home.” 

“Oh no?”

“No, I drove myself.” 

Surely you didn’t hear him correctly. “Wait, what?” 

But a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and you breathe a sigh of relief. There’s a quick rap on the door before it opens and reveals Diego. He’s a mountain of a man, six foot seven and almost as wide as he is tall. Tattoos decorate the thick ropes of muscles on his arms and up his neck. In a borough overrun by gang members, Diego looks like someone you don’t want to mess with. That is, until he smiles. You’re waiting for it, that millionaire dollar grin of white teeth and crinkled, brown eyes, but it never comes. He stands in the doorway, massive hands folded neatly in front of him as he watches Mike and Bono in the corner. Mike pushes himself up so he’s sitting taller, straighter. 

“Diego Torres.” 

“Captain Duarte.” 

You shift uncomfortably from one tired foot to another. “You two know each other?” 

Mike looks warily between you and Diego but ends up not saying anything. It’s Diego who answers your question. 

“Captain Duarte busted me eight years ago when I was a dumb sixteen year old kid. BX9 was making all kinds of promises and I was swallowing them. I was lookout for a bodega robbery when Sargent Duarte at the time busted my slow ass when I got scared and ran. I spent five years in Rikers for that.”  

You see the smile start to form on Diego’s face and Mike visibly relaxes. 

“That saved my life, man,” Diego continues. “I got involved in the dog shelter program where they bring in dogs for prisoners to rehab. I loved having an animal around. So I started working on a vet tech certificate while I was there. The pit bull rescue gave me a job when I got out and when I finished the cert, they helped me get a job here.” 

You pat Diego on one of his large biceps. “And now Diego is our resident pit bull whisperer. I’m trying to convince him to go to vet school.” 

Diego gives you a shy grin. “Actually, I got accepted last week.” 

“That’s amazing!” You can’t help it but hug him. “Oh, let us know if you need anything! Clinical hours, observing surgeries, internship. Whatever you need!” 

He squeezes you back and then goes to Mike, who stands up and steadies himself against the exam table. Diego extends his hand and Mike, after a brief hesitation, takes it. 

“I’ve always wanted to run into you again, Captain Duarte, to thank you for running me down that day. I got a girlfriend, a one-year-old son now, and a job. I have a life and it’s thanks to you.” 

It’s extremely personal, standing there and watching this interaction. You see the tightness in Mike’s jaw, the uneasy eye movement of trying to look anywhere but at the man before him who thanked him for a priceless gift: a purposeful life. Eventually, Mike shakes Diego’s hand again, hesitantly reaching up and clapping the man on the shoulder. 

“I’m, uh,” Mike clears his throat, “I’m happy to hear that.” 

Diego glances at the floor. “I followed the Oscar Papa trial. And when I read that he accepted a plea deal, I thought you had died from the attack. The papers, they only reported the attack, nothing else.” 

Mike tips his head to the side. “Dead people make better headlines.” 

“Well, I’m glad you’re not a headline, Captain Duarte.” 

“Me too.” 

“Alright,” you interrupt, opening the door that leads into the back of the clinic, “Let’s get Captain Duarte home so he can rest.” 

Bono’s ears perk up quickly at the word home, a term that he’s already associated with a place. Diego walks close to Mike’s side, his hands ready to assist but still giving Mike respectable space. You lead the way through the back lab area, duck into your office to pick up your purse and coat. When you go outside, the sun is starting to set, a chilly breeze whipping around the small parking lot. You unlock your car, a Subaru hatchback, open the back door for Bono as Diego stands guard over Mike as he slides into the passenger seat. Diego pats Mike’s shoulder twice, reaches into the backseat and gives Bono a head scratch, slipping him a treat, before shutting the door and giving you both a wave goodbye as he heads back into the clinic. 

You turn the radio off before turning the car on, not wanting to startle Mike with your loud appreciation of 90’s music. Your brother tended to get very cold after one of his seizures, your house having a stash of blankets in each room. But you don’t know what Mike needs, what the aftermath is like for him. 

“I have seat warmers,” you show him the switch so he can turn it on himself. “Also feel free to turn the heat up or down as you want.” 

“I’m fine.” His response is short, tight. “How, uh, how did you know…” 

You smile slightly as you pull the car out of the parking lot and into the snarl of congested traffic in the south Bronx. “My brother was in a car accident when he was sixteen. He hit his head, suffered a traumatic brain injury. He would have frequent seizures after that.” 

“‘Would have?’ Did he get better?” 

You had hoped he wouldn’t pick up on the past tense but he did. “No. He, uh, passed away during the pandemic, from COVID.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah. Me too. He was a really nice guy, loved everyone and everyone loved him.” 

“What was his name?” 

“Colin. He wanted to go to Colombia and get a social work degree. He wanted to be a guardian ad litem for children going through the custody and placement issues.” You swallow down the lump of emotion that lodged in your throat. “He believed everyone deserves to feel safe as a child. There was a girl that I befriended in elementary school who didn’t have the greatest parents and was more or less raised by our parents. Colin wanted to do that as an adult, take care of kids who had terrible home lives. But then the car accident happened and he wasn’t able to pursue that dream anymore.” 

Mike scoffs. “It’s always the ones we need the most that die young.” 

You couldn’t disagree with that statement. You often think about all the good that Colin could have accomplished had he lived. You often wonder why he would have survived the car accident only to die eight years later in a pandemic. Death had taken most of your family from you. Your father had been shot by a panicky kid with a gun in a bodega robbery. He had been a beat cop in the Bronx for twelve years. He had just taken the detective exam the previous week. Two days after the funeral, his exam results were in the mail and he had passed with flying colors. 

Your mother had raised you and Colin by herself after that. She had told you that your father had been the love of her life, never to be found again. And she never did find anyone else. She worked at her brother’s bar in the North Bronx, Connolly’s. She had a mind for business but her brother was old school and never handed the reins of the business to her. He did allow her to manage the bar area of the restaurant, which soon became the most popular part of the place. Despite working long hours at night, she still took care of you, Colin, and even your best friend.  Samanatha had been the third child in your family, accepted into the home and always had a place at the family table. You, Colin, and Sam all were inseparable until life pulled you apart. 

You had gone to Cornell up in Ithaca on a full scholarship for veterinary science. Sam had gone to the police academy, following in your father’s footsteps. Colin was still in high school, star quarterback on the football team at Bronx River High School. You had been cramming for spring finals when your mother had called you. Colin and his friends had gone down to Coney Island for an afternoon of fun on an unseasonably warm spring day. They had stayed until the park closed, driving home much later than they should have. The driver had fallen asleep at the wheel. Two dead, two critically injured. You had driven all night to get to Knickerbocker Hospital where Colin was in ICU with his traumatic brain injury. 

They didn’t think he was going to walk again. Or talk. Or care for himself. The doctors told you and your mother that he may never even wake up again. But he did wake up. He did learn how to talk, walk, and care for himself after a year of intensive therapy. He would never be able to live on his own, but he was alive. The seizures were absolutely frightening and took a lot of time for you and your mother to handle with any sense of efficiency. But you both learned how to do that as well. 

As soon as you felt you had a handle on Colin’s condition, your mother was found dead on the floor behind the bar at Connolly's, from a massive heart attack. It was suddenly just you and  Colin at that point in the house. Sam frequently visited between her long shifts at the precinct. You, Colin, Sam’s occasional pop-ins, your new internship at Happy Tails Vet Clinic, and Kevin Bradford. 

Kevin was a fast talking pharmaceutical salesman who wined and dined you, offered a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, and someone to warm your bed. His family was from the Hudson Yards, a high end area in Manhattan. He was good looking, charming, and noticed you. You felt grateful for the attention, that with everything happening in your life, someone was interested in you and the mess that was your life. So when he suggested marriage after your mother died, you went along with it. 

Then the pandemic hit. Colin came down with Covid and passed away before his twenty-fifth birthday. 

You realized Kevin was the real mess, attending warehouse parties in the city and banging anything in a skirt or scrubs at the vet offices across town. With Sam’s intervention and help, you kicked him to the curb as well. Just barely thirty, an orphan, no brother, and an ex-husband, you had thought it was the end. 

But you learned how to live again. You put one foot in front of the other, threw yourself into the vet practice and soon took over as one of the three head veterinarians. You lived in your parents home on the outskirts of the Bronx. It wasn’t a large house but it was in good condition, a safe neighborhood, and had a small garden in the back. It is a quiet life. One you wished could be shared with your family, but they were there in the pictures that hung on the walls and the memories that you often indulged in remembering. 

Mike is relatively quiet on the drive, speaking only to give directions to his home. He doesn’t live very far from the clinic, almost half way between your home and the vet office. You pull up to a craftsman style home that’s about the same size as your home. The neighborhood is well within the Bronx line, not a bad area but not one you would feel comfortable walking in at night even with your dog. 

“Thank you,” Mike says quietly.  “You didn’t have to do this.” 

“I know. But  I would have appreciated it if someone did this for my brother so, here we are. Do you need any help getting inside?” 

He shakes his head. “No, I'm good.”

You know that lie so well. The words drop easily from his mouth but his eyes are tired and tell a different story. “I have off tomorrow and I usually go down to Orchard Beach with my dog, Shasta. It’s a good area to let the dogs run and wear themselves out.” 

He’s a smart enough man to read between the lines, know what exactly you’re putting out there. He gives you a small smile as he unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the door. “Thanks for the tip. And thanks again for the ride.” 

You laugh nervously. “Don’t forget to give me 5 stars on Uber.” 

He gives you a pity laugh as he lets Bono out of the backseat. You watch him walk up to the door and into the house before pulling away from the curb. You shake your head in complete and utter embarrassment. 

Don’t forget to give me 5 stars on Uber. 

God, you were an idiot. No wonder you were alone.