#lbl answers

[linkbetweenlinksau]

been on an FS kick lately ... stuff abt Four please? 🥺

Green: here, we decided to split to answer this more easily.

Blue: better than us trying to fight over who gets to answer and who doesn’t.

Red: wait, what was the question?

Blue: just stuff about us.

Red: oh! Well I’m called Red! This here is Green, Vio and Blueberry!

Blue: no! No it’s Blue. Just Blue, don’t call me blueberry!

Green: well, we… or I guess Link, have been training to be a knight ever since we were ten. Since we had an early start on fighting, we got really good at it, and being left handed made the others struggle to fight against us.

Vio: we got a little cocky didn’t we?

Green: yeaaaah. We would fight enemies on our own and found that working with a team was annoying and only slowed us down. But that obviously bit us in the butt when we eventually split.

Blue: why are you guys telling them our whole life story?

Green: because they asked for it?

Blue: well… they technically already know about that whole thing. What do they not know?

Red: hm, well. Link actually grew up mostly in the castle. Since his— our— mom died, and our father was busy being a knight and all, Link was taken care of right beside Zelda, then once he was done with knighting, he would go back to taking care of us! which is why she’s our best friend!

Vio: I wonder what would’ve happened if the king didn’t let Link be with the maids taking care of Zelda… would father still be a knight?

Green: who knows. I suppose we can ask him about it when we see him again.

Vio: what else is there about us?

Blue: dunno, but if there’s any specifics just let us know. Or something.

Red: thanks for the question!!!

[smilesrobotlover]

I nead to know what was THE moment that the lbl boiz realized they love their partner

Ooough um

Sky: really when he lost her. He couldn’t live without her and he grew so much closer to her, that by the end of skord he truly grew to love her

Time: when she listened to his stories and actually believed him. Many people thought he was crazy with his stories but she grew to believe him, and he felt like he was able to tell her anything, and he wants her to feel like she can do the same to him.

Twilight: ok they won’t be a thing in lbl cuz Midna is still in the twilight realm but I think he knew he loved her when before going to the twilight realm to defeat Zant. He just, liked her, her personality, and everything she was doing for him.

Age: I think when they were spending time together again and playing in the water. He loved her company, he felt like he had no expectations from Mipha, and that he could be himself without fear of judgement or scorn.

[aikoiya]

You could make a Cain & Able joke.

Or some other play on the word "Able."

Showing you my botw/AOC Link’s father. He needs a name but he’s a cutie. Very different from Abel, who is an angsty son of a gun

AHHHHHHH OH MY GOSH SMILES I LOVE HIM SO FREAKING MUCH ALREADY

HE LOOKS SO CHEERFUL AND HAPPY BLESS <3

I LOVE HAPPY FAMILY RELATIONSHIPS THEY MAKE MY BRAIN GO BRRRR

"Abel, who is an angsty son of a gun" HAHAHA LOL FJDSKLFJDSKLFJLSD YES HE IS MY POOR BABY

[defjux]

since we're about halfway through the year, here are my favorite albums released so far in 2024, the first two rows are the albums i've been listening to the most, but the order really doesn't matter. i'm also looking forward to new albums from Melt-Banana, toe, Nilüfer Yanya, Heriot, Spirit of the Beehive, Nails, Modern Color, Fatboi Sharif, Mavi, Blind Girls, and Esperanza Spalding in the next few months. chart with album titles included what are your favorite albums of the year? what have you been listening to the most and what should i be checking out? let me know!

ShrapKnel - Nobody Planning To Leave

Nxworries - WHY LAWD?

Iglooghost - Tidal Memory Exo

Cavalier - Different Type Time

Chelsea Wolfe - She Reaches Out To She Reaches Out To She

Thou - Umbilical

Mach-Hommy - #RICHAXXHAITIAN

Frail Body - Artificial Bouquet

Sunmundi & klwn cat - Lived and Born

Infant Island - Obsidian Wreath

Gouge Away - Deep Sage

Joshua Virtue - Black Box: JOSHUA IS DEAD

Punchlove - Channels

Nickelus F - MMCHT

Armand Hammer - BLK LBL

Nakama - EMBERGO_

Boldy James & Conductor Williams - Across the Tracks

Mary Sue - Voice Memos From A Winter In China

Beth Gibbons - Lives Outgrown

Revival Season - Golden Age Of Self Snitching

Illsugi & August Fanon - KANAGAWAYORK

Heavenly Blue - We Have The Answer

Crumb - AMAMA

Serengeti - KDIV

Arooj Aftab - Night Reign

Oddisee - And Yet Still

Knoll - As Spoken

Hiatus Kaiyote - Love Heart Cheat Code

Lupe Fiasco - Samurai

Joanna Wang - Hotel La Rut

Mary Halvorson - Cloudward

.22LR - .22lr

Ulcerate - Cutting The Throat Of God

Four Tet - Three

Julia Holter - Something in the Room She Moves

YUNGMORPHEUS & Alexander Spit - Waking Up and Choosing Violence

Candy - It's Inside You

Kamasi Washington - Fearless Movement

Blinder - Drugs of the Sun

Hammok - Look How Long Lasting Everything Is…

Vince Staples - Dark Times

Joel Ross - nublues

[ms-march]

TURN WEEK: Medieval AU Crossover with SS:SP!

Why haven’t I been writing LBL recently ( for about year really) you ask? This is why. This AU has occupied so much space in my head it is so banger if I ever to get around to writing more of it TRUST you all will see it. @tallmadgeandtea and I have been going insane over a TURN crossover medieval au for a while now & Yes, that is Ser Harwin Stong as a FC for Thaddeus Kosciusko. 😅

Her head was spinning. It had been for days. Weeks even. She had not been able to consume food that didn’t leave her feeling nauseous for days. He started to make her join him in eating. It was the only way he could ensure she did not starve herself.

The capital had been taken days ago, and the new king and his court of traitors had occupied the rooms that did not belong to them since they arrived. Andre was dead. She knew that. No one would tell her, not the guards at the door of the apartments she resided in, not George, whose rooms she stayed in instead of her own for safety. She had not heard from nor seen Ban since this wanna-be king had arrived. With Andre dead, he was king. With Andre dead, she was the closest thing to a Queen Consort they had. This had been the status quo for weeks now.

The engaged pair were kept in separate wings of the castle. Not a word to be exchanged between them.

Thinking of it made her sick to her stomach.

It made her head spin.

George would not answer any of her questions. She would go mad with questions. Or she would go mad with fear. She still wore her fiance's engagement ring and donned dresses of Fairfax green and the deep blood red of the royal household as any Queen Consort should. George wore a horrible blue at each one of their meals. The sight nauseated her. It made her head spin. Adrienne had been so used to seeing him donned in royal military red, a Colonel in the army they had slaughtered. She was distressed by the blue. It wasn’t just George’s clothes. It was the banners in the courtyard—the guards at the gate.

All of it. It made her head spin.

And George watched her, carefully, like she was still on strings, like she might try to dash out the door or toss herself from a window. It nauseated her, this illusion of freedom. She didn’t wear shackles, yet. How long would it be? Another week? A few days? The waiting would make her go mad.

That commotion in the courtyard would make her go mad. What on earth could these people be doing now?

Adrienne made her way from the sofa, abandoning her embroidery in its hoop, leaving George there to pretend he was reading a book whose page he hadn’t flipped in fifteen minutes. The silence of the sitting room, the lack of conversation between them, allowed her to hear the commotion happening outside the window below her. She had not expected the sight before her when she approached the window. She had not accounted for any such thing, for surely, as Kingmaker, George would attend any kind of execution, any kind of formal state toppling.

Was that why he had been unable to read his book? The knowledge of death?

Was that the reason for his silence? Was he ashamed? Was he too cowardly to tell her? Did he fear it would escape if he uttered a sound?

Adrienne’s head was spinning. It had been for days. Weeks even.

Were her ears ringing?

She was sick to her stomach again at the sight in the courtyard before her. Banastre was in the courtyard in simple black wool. In chains. The Prince—no, he was the King now— in chains, and an executioner's block at the end of his path. She saw the sword in a black figure’s hands. Oh God, they were going to kill him.

Oh God, she was going to be sick.

Adrienne’s feet wouldn’t move, though. Her eyes couldn’t be torn from Tarleton, no matter how desperately she wanted to look away. She couldn’t do anything but watch. It nauseated her. Her head was spinning. Her ears were ringing.

She almost didn’t hear the dull thud of the sword on the block when it cut through his neck.

George called out to her before the second stroke. His command for her to come away from the window fell on her ears like an echo. She made no association between the man in the room with her and the words that were being ordered. He made his way to her side, grimacing at the sight in the courtyard of the severed head of a boy he knew. He reached out to her hand, which had gripped his curtains as though it was life or death for her. He had to pry the fabric from her fingers. He had to pretend it was fine.

How could she do that?

Adrienne was horrified. She had seen her fiance’s head hacked off his shoulders, and she hadn’t been blessed enough to faint at the sight of it. She felt faint. She felt nauseous. She felt like she was crying. She was in shock. Adrienne was horrified. Horrified at the scene in the courtyard. Horrified at the death of her intended. Horrified at George and all the other traitors who had allowed this to happen. Horrified that she would soon be next. When George finally pried her fingers from the curtains, Adrienne began to be conscious of her panic. Her fear. Her tears.

“Why would they do that,” Adrienne whispered as George pulled her feet from before the window, her voice becoming more hysteric the more she spoke, “Why would you do that? Why allow him to die?”

George had served a different banner than that horrible blue for the longest time. What had changed in this man she thought she knew, that he would allow the heir he knew since the heir was but a child to die. What had become of the man she knew? What would become of her if he would not have qualm with killing Banastre? Was she next? She had to be. Tarelton had been king, heir apparent, and she the closest thing left to Queen Consort there was. Would they behead her too? Or would she be tortured? Assaulted? Which would kill her easier? Which would be most painless?

“He is more just,” was all George could give as a poor excuse for his betrayal and his cowardice, “He is better. He won his contest-“

“How could you allow this madness?” Adrienne was going to go mad before they killed her. The shock and the fear were enough to do that. She was afraid. How could he claim the servant boy to be just?

“He is more just-“

“Is this just?” Adrienne questioned, her tone harsh among its distress, “Was that Justice?”

“Adrienne-“

“How is that Justice?” She exclaimed, “He has done nothing-”

“You know why it had to be done.” George said solemnly, wrapping her hysterical figure in his arms, “He will be just, and he will be fair, and he will be better.”

Better.

This was a cruel, sick jest. Better? How could the man before her, so clearly lost, know which boy—neither who had ever ruled—would be better of a King? The man before her was a coward. A traitor. And-

“Dear God.” she whispered, disgusted, “Your treachery nauseates me.”

“It is no longer treachery.”

With him dead, George was right. There was no man he was treasonous to. No man remained breathing to make such accusations. Adrienne’s head was spinning, her nausea overtaking her, causing her to stumble into a chair.

“Yes, it is” she replied distantly, shocked and stunned into near silence at his blatant disregard, “You can lie to yourself all you’d like. It won’t make your deeds less heinous, your treachery more justified.”

“Adrienne-“

“You killed him! He’s done nothing, and you killed him!!”

God, she was going to be sick.

She was going to die here like this. Her nausea would overwhelm her, and it would never cease till she too was lifeless, blood at the corners of her mouth, like Tarleton. Like Andre. Adrienne felt the bile rise to her throat, but the only thing that came out was the burning tears of acid rolling painfully down her face. It was too much. The sensation of the tears, the bile in her throat, the scene in the courtyard, George's terrible, awful blue that was everywhere she looked all the time. The sound of the chains through the window, the horrible thud the block made when the sword made contact with it, better. It was enough to drive anyone mad.

It would drive her mad.

Could she breathe? Why couldn’t she breathe?

Would this be the thing to kill her? Was that their plan? She would go mad—go into shock—at such a gory sight that she would stop breathing. The servant king’s hands would be clean of her blood. Could George have lived with it? If George hadn’t pulled her away from the window, would she have jumped?

Did she say something?

George was speaking to her, trying to calm her, trying to soothe her panic, her fear, and her rage. She couldn't breathe. Had she been choking out words this whole time?

She had choked out a terrified plea to be spared. She had choked out an angry accusation that they will kill her. George called for guards, he was becoming old in age and with Adrienne’s body doing as it pleased with no regard for her wishes, he could not wrangle her to her room alone. She did not want guards. The clamor of the armor and the chainmail was too much like the sound of cuffed chains.

It was too overwhelming.

Adrienne’s head was spinning. Her ears rang. Tears spilled down her cheeks like acid rain. She couldn’t breathe. She was nauseous. God, she was going to be sick.

Adrienne stayed like that for a few days. A week maybe. Possibly more. Crying, sick to her stomach, and silent. She rarely uttered a word. George would try to speak to her but to no avail. She did not want his words. She wanted to go home, away from here. She wanted to know what was happening. George could give her neither.

He still tried to keep her spirit up. He still made sure he knew when, how much, and of what she ate. Occasionally he would send in one of his traitors. Foreigners, usually.

Some faces she knew, others she had never seen. It made no difference. She glowered in silence at both. She had no plan of associating with traitors and murderers alike. She would not stoop so low. Her anger—her fury—at their deeds would not let her.

She only ate out of fear. She never finished out of fear, too.

She could not starve herself, that much she knew. George would never allow it. Her death—whenever it was to come—had to be at the pretender King’s hand. It had to be political. It had to be “morally” right.

She had no agency here.

She would rather eat and risk poison than be subjected to having meals force-fed to her. She would not be manhandled by these people.

She wanted to go home.

Her head was pounding, and when it wasn’t pounding, it was spinning, making her feel faint and nauseous. Her bedroom door creaked open, and she did not even blink at it. She had already eaten breakfast today. Was George dissatisfied with what she had eaten? Had he come to stuff food down her throat? Or had they come to take her to the execution block next? Or would they make her await death in prison?

“Lady Fairfax,” it was William Lee, George’s manservant. Was there a different option she had failed to consider? William had always been too polite. Had he been sent to poison her? Would he apologize to her before he did it? “The Baron wishes to see you in his office.”

The Baron. George.

The traitor had an office.

The traitor joined with murderers for an office.

“I do not wish to see him,” she croaked, “Do tell him such. I have already eaten today, I cannot stomach a traitor.”

“I am sorry, my lady," he said, giving her the apology she had been waiting for, “But I have orders not to accept any answer declining his wish.”

The Baron. He had been a Sir before they chopped off Tarelton’s head. He had betrayed every one of his friends and his country—he had become Kingmaker—all for an additional room and a singular title raise. Coward. He had sent his manservant to collect her for a purpose he likely did not specify to William. He was not brave enough to do it himself. Coward.

William offered her his hand to help her up from the chaise she sat on, and—having no other choice—she took it. “You must forgive me, my lady,” he said to her as they made their way out to the hallway, a place Adrienne had not entered since she was brought to George's apartments, where they met an escort of guards. Armored and armed. That horrible clink of the chainmail on their bodies set her on edge. “It was insisted upon,” William explained, “By His Grace’s counsel. You are not going to be harmed, I will be traveling with you.” It put her on edge, that godforsaken clinking sound.

It was reassuring not to be alone now.

“You speak like we are traveling cross-country, William,” Adrienne said quietly, “It is only down a few halls.”

Halls she knew well, but could not help but feel like they were new. The tapestries of triumphs and banners and shields of red and gold that had once decorated them were gone, replaced by blue and white and silver at every turn. The suits of armor had been polished, and the weaponry removed. Was that because of her? Or were there others they worried about? Who remained alive still?

The fresh air and exercise of their walk should have made her nausea go away, but it made no effect. The hallways were nearly empty, and the horrible clanking of metal and their feet on the stone floor was the only thing to be heard echoing off the walls. Even the traitors were afraid of their actions. The deposition of a King in such a manner would not go unnoticed by the God who placed him there. Did these cowards fear God more than their servant King? Did they stay because they feared his hand too much to run? Or did they stay because they feared God’s power outside these walls of stone? They would bring down the walls on all who inhabit the castle eventually. God's wrath cannot be hidden from.

Her wrath made her nauseous. Which was worse: the deserted hallways that traitors were too scared to show their faces in that she was now faced with or entering into a bustling hall of celebrators? Which should she prefer?

Her stomach would have neither. Adrienne’s head was spinning, and when it wasn’t spinning, it was pounding. She hadn’t eaten much at breakfast, was that why she felt faint?

The company stopped in front of a solid door upon which one of the men rapped upon before opening it and ushering Adrienne and William inside. They did not enter with them, but rather waited. The group would seemingly push on. The Baron’s office was not their final destination after all. What a peculiar death march this was. She wondered how her death would come. What method would this questionable King use? Was he the sadist kind? Would he see her body mutilated by methods of torture till it could take no more? Or was he merciful? Adrienne doubted it was the latter. She had witnessed what the mongrel had done to Tarelton, like it or not.

“Ah,” George spoke, looking up at her as William ushered her through a second door, behind which George sat behind a desk of solid oak, “Adrienne. Please, come in, take a seat.”

The Baron.

The very thought nauseated her. She was going to be sick from this wicked display.

“George, or ought I to greet you as a Baron now?“ she said, moving her skirts to sit with grace as if she had not spent the morning staring at the pattern of the carpet in her room. As if there had been no war and this was a social call. As if her side of the war had not most recently lost. “It is a minor promotion for the Kingmaker, but I am sure you will make do.”

“How kind,” the man behind the desk replied dryly, “but I would have us discuss other things. Things more pertinent and pressing.” George stood up, walking to the large series of windows streaming light into the room as he continued without waiting for her response. “You must surely know by now that your world will be quite different from now on,” he began, stating the most obvious of things he could have. She wanted to know different- how. How would her life be different? What had happened? She wanted answers, and the pair had sat in silence for weeks because he could not provide her with any. He had not been permitted. What had changed?

“Have you summoned me to report my father’s death now?” Adrienne asked. It was very reasonable. Very logical. Life without her father—without the protection of his title and his peerage—would be most different indeed. So many had fled or been killed. Had he joined in their numbers? “Or have I been summoned so you may inform me that I am to be next?”

They would kill her eventually. She knew it.

Banastre had his head hacked off for his birth. Adrienne’s could very well be next.

“Neither,” George replied, ignoring the bite in her tone, “Though this has some to do with your father.”

“It does?”

“There was a ransom posted for you,” he continued, turning around to look at her like her head was not spinning like her ears were not ringing, “A tribute.”

Ransom. Tribute.

Tarleton had been parted from this world for crimes against this new King she too had committed—the engagement band of gold and the ruby resting upon it that still resided on her hand vouched for that. Yet he had been killed, and she remained untouched.

Her head was spinning, and the words rang in her ears like echoes in the abandoned halls of this once-bustling castle. “Then I am to be returned to him?” Adrienne asked, “Safely?”

And he stopped before he spoke. Paused. Hesitated. “Not quite.”

Adrienne wanted answers. All she had wanted for weeks was answers. She wanted to know what was happening. She still did not understand what was happening. Even now, and it infuriated her.

“What do you mean?”

“Your father gave His Grace a counteroffer to tribute.” George spoke hesitantly, lowering himself into the chair behind the desk once more, “You.”

Adrienne’s head was spinning, and she was nauseous. God, she was going to be sick. Was this room spinning? Poison would be a better date. Choking on her own bile would be kinder than being sold like a calf at market to the highest bidder. Was this new King a masochist? Or was he truly so heinous and odiously appearing that such a proposition would be accepted?

“He would-“ she stuttered, shocked, “He would offer me as a wife-”

“Not a wife, no,” George clarified quickly, causing her heart to sink and confusion to flood her mind once more. “Your Father’s own words were: “a servant for a servant” if I remember correctly.”

It was clever of him—the analogy. A servant for a servant. It was so clever she almost overlooked its severity.

“He would sell me off as a servant?” She asked, disgust and anger pulling her from shock and horror, “For the man who so slaughtered my fiancé? For the traitors who now run this court?”

God, she was going to be sick. She felt faint, and the room had not ceased spinning. George had sold his country out for an additional room and a singular promotion of title. Adrienne’s father—Sir William Fairfax of Denton, Yorkshire, Dorothy Gale, and Cameron, it would be a tale to say the titles and riches were not many—had sold his family off for what? What had he been offered for her humiliation? How could he have taken it?

“He has been offered full political immunity in return,” the Baron said, nearly reading her mind, pleading with her to be understanding. This is politics. People do what they must. Adrienne could expect no protection from her father. Politics were to be her lifeline now. This King would now decide her fate.

“His Grace has been kind and merciful enough to preserve your title and peerage for the protection it will give you in this court,” he began, “You will be presented to his grace, and you will kiss his ring. Bow before him. You will address him as Your Grace. You will show deference as befits a King.”

A King who had killed her fiance. A King who has slaughtered his ruler in cold blood. A King upon whom God would one day settle his wrath upon. The thought of being made to bow before him brought the sensation of tears to her eyes. It brought a flush of embarrassment to her cheeks.

“And how much more humiliation am I to suffer before you finally do something?”

Had George not been the one to ride ahead of them all and collect her under the cover of night? Had he not taken her to his rooms for safety and kept this King's guards from entering through his door for her? Had George not been the one to pry her horrified fingers from the curtains and grimace at the sight she had witnessed? Had he not this far protected her at every turn? Why would he now see her publically humiliated? To what end was this cause determined?

“You will not speak so freely,” was all he could muster. An admonishment. Pitiful.

She was a woman. Adrienne was familiar with the limitations of her sex. In the previous court, she had been its princess. They had not applied to her then.

“When must I be presented like tribute upon a platter before this council of traitors?” She replied, paying his criticism no heed. He was a coward. The whole of them were Godless cowards and would one day die such deaths.

“Now,” he said firmly, gesturing to the room she had just come from before the hallway. “You will make yourself presentable—I have had your things brought here, and your maidservant sent for,” he said, picking up a pile of papers, “The king wishes to see this famous beauty of yours he has heard so very much talked about. It was heard of him even off the continent: the beauty of the English Princess.”

Flattery.

Coward.

She knew she was talked of. Her beauty bordered on legendary. Emissaries would often come to court raving over the tales of her beauty. It was part of her appeal to Tarleton. It was part of her duties as a Princess—even if she was only a Princess to be. Vain as it made her, the legend of her beauty was true, despite her appearance after the sickness she had suffered these past few weeks from shock and distress. She would have no say in her humiliation, but there were still some things she could control.

This new king would get the British beauty he wanted so desperately to see, but he would not get the queen he wished to come with it.

She would not give him that submission.

George returned back to his papers, grabbing a few before leaving the offices altogether without a further word. When he had fully exited, Ona—Adrienne’s maidservant—came into the room with a gown of dark crimson red and rich gold and enough to prepare the blonde for presentation at court.

The guards escorted her to the familiar doors. She retraced a familiar path but felt no familiar feelings. This whole moment was familiar.

Last time she had been dressed so—her hair curled and arranged carefully down her back, a veil pinned to the headband she wore, soft silky organza cascading down her curls—a familiar set of faces had awaited her. It was where she got the band of gold on her finger that held a ruby so red at the center of it it was unmistakable who she was, or rather, who she had been. She had been dressed in a deep crimson red with the finest of gold ornament spanning the parts of the dress not made of red and gold brocade, much like the one she wore now with golden ribbon decorating her veil and the chemise that peeked out from the top of the neckline, at her shoulders, elbows between the ties of the sleeves.

She was gorgeous. Her lips were soft and plump and pink, and her cheeks were brushed with a rouge that would make her flush glow in the light of the hall’s windows. She looked beautiful. Irresistible even. But she would affront him, and refuse him his queen.

It was all too much. The clinking of chainmail as they walked through familiar halls, the valet that leaned in and whispered to address him as “your grace,” the familiar doors opening before her to reveal faces she was too familiar with. It was all too much. It overwhelmed her. Her head did not spin, and her stomach did not toss, but she could feel tears being brought to her eye.

He donned Andre’s crown like a mockery. The faces she knew—and the few she didn’t—whispered to themselves with every step she took. She had not even heard the steward announce her by title. Her only focus was on the man sitting perched on a throne that was not his. He seemed to feel the same, never breaking eye contact with her as she made her way down the center aisle of the room to the foot of the dias the throne sat upon. She would test him. In court, one never ascended the dias until the King had invited them to. It needn’t be verbal. A simple beckoning with his hand would suffice.

She saw him falter. She saw the confusion in his proud, steely eyes, panic setting in behind them. How well did he trust those faces in the crowd? Did he trust them at all? Or did he fear he had finally overstepped with this mockery and humiliation? Adrienne didn’t trust them either.

She stared back at him, her face calm and submissive but her eyes challenging him from where she stood. He finally motioned for her to join him, though she doubted he realized what he had done. Her feet walked forward despite their unwillingness to kneel at his feet and kiss the ring upon his finger she had sworn allegiance to when a real king had worn it. She lifted the hem of her dress ever so slightly so as not to trip on it while going up the few steps of the dias, sinking to her knees to a swift motion before him, eyes not breaking his intense stare even as she lowered herself to the cushion before his feet.

She would challenge him.

He would not get the queen he had wanted. That submission she would rob from him.

The man, dressed in a creamy, white silk corded jacket with gold and cream brocaded undersleeves, offered her his hand, offering her the ring to kiss like it was her honor to do so. Knowing she had no other choice—knowing this was why she had been brought here—she kissed it. Adrienne moved slowly, giving this King the drama he wished for, pulling her eyes from him, fluttering them closed as her lips made sweet contact with the ring. A tear escaped her eye when they closed, sliding gently down her cheek. She hesitated there, pausing her lips on the ring until the tear had fallen to the fabric of her skirts arranged at his feet like a tribute for just a moment, enjoying his squirming.

She fluttered her eyes open when she moved back from his hand, looking up at him through her lashes, kneeling still before him at his feet, her lips—pink and soft and now slightly plumper—parted carefully. He wished for beauty. She would give him that. The gold band on her left hand gave him his Queen. She would affront him, and he could not complain.

“They had not lied of your beauty,” he said, speaking finally, his voice softer than expected but just as sturdy, “It is a shame what has happened that you might find yourself so alone. Many a man would be untrue before God and have shame were you unchaperoned.”

“Then perhaps I should be grateful to the Baron, Your Grace,” she spoke quietly, soft and sweet and smooth as possible, “For his protection these past few weeks.”

He had demanded beauty.

She could give him that.

“Indeed,” the blonde man replied, “It seems he may be the only one to do so.”

The coward.

How reassuring.

“Your father said “a servant for a servant,” my dear. You should be happy I am so merciful as not to strip you down to such,” he replied carefully, “Your beauty is wasted upon a servant.” She knew that much. She knew that her veil of white organza, framed by golden ribbon, and the soft glow of her skin, the thought of her lips upon the ring were enticing to many in this room, whether they voiced their thoughts and desires or not. “You will enter into my household a Lady,” he affirmed. Could he afford anything less? How well did he rely on this crowd of faces too familiar to her? “You will attend to the Lady Walker as her Lady in Waiting. We shall see if such beauty remains unparalleled in blue.”

Snarky bastard.

It was a blessing in the least. Being a Lady of the court—and she would have to be if she were to serve in such a position—there was a certain level of protection that accompanied her.

What had been her other option? Had he intended to have her brought back to rooms she had not come from? Had he meant to lay her on her back and strip her of dignity? Men could be depraved, especially in the field. Men of combat took wives, but they also took mistresses. It was snarky of him, and Adrienne was certain she would hate it, but it was the best of her options. She would have more agency there than anywhere else. Adrienne did not even know this Lady Walker. She had not been aware there was one.

[colettebronte]

Where do you draw upon inspiration for your more passionate fics?

Hey Nonny!

Ooooh this is an interesting one to break down. Ok so, for all the fics in the series Lord Bridgerton's List which was written for Kinktober, I cherry-picked from about four or five Kinktober-specific prompt lists. This also applies to the first batch of The Queen and the General, because those first five fics derived from LBL.

For most my other fics, I don't generally go in with anything in mind, I just see what spicy scenes come up as I write or make some general notes in my outlines beforehand if an idea pops up.

The exception to that is Chicken Soup and Oral Sex: Lord Bridgerton's Surefire Sickness Cure, which is VERY MUCH a tribute to Anthony Bridgerton's canon excellent oral skills. And also that I had a cold at the time I wrote it and that is a cure I would have VERY MUCH enjoyed!

I hope that answered your question. If not, feel free to ask a follow up!

[skxrbrand]

Well this is kinda what he looked like. His name is Temper and he's roughly 3500 lbls.

" Looks in fine spirits to me. He--"

Something occurs to Khazaan. He sneers,

" This answers a lot of questions."

[esta-elavaris]

🎈💞💝!

🎈describe your style as a writer; is it fixed? does it change?

Honestly, I have no idea. I think it does change with fic based on the tone of the fandom I'm writing in, but it's less a conscious decision and more a sort of voice that I slip into depending on whose head I'm writing the inside of during any given chapter. There's a lot more room to be silly with Theodora than there is with Sybil (for now), and so on.

💞what's the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language So plot is important, but characters (and their dialogue) is the most important. The plot can be great but if nobody cares about the characters, nobody is going to care about the plot. I think the technical stuff also plays a big role, too, because everything else could be great but if there's something off about the technical stuff, people can really easily click away from it in annoyance. My own dialogue punctuation was rough up until this last summer because I just didn't know I was doing it wrong (my novel beta readers pointed it out - my fucking university instructors did not), and I wonder here and there if it ever drove folk away from reading.

Like, I have clicked back on many a fic because I opened it and it was just one big wall of text with no spacing. Not only because it's annoying to try and read, but also because (fairly or no) it's easy to then think that if they can't get that right, they can't get much else right.

💝what is a fic that got a different response than you were expecting? All of the ones that have done well, honestly 💀 (CTW and LBL, then, mainly - but HWFG is shaping up that way too!) like the ones that do well tend to be the ones where I take a risk on "can this thing be done well?", and I usually go into it thinking the answer is "no" and that everybody will resoundingly agree with that and either not read, or give it a go out of morbid curiosity and not like it. I've had more than one comment on CTW in particular (kindly) being like "wow I went into this not expecting it to be good and I was wrong", which always cracks me up because like? SAME, BESTIE?

Then the answer turns out to be yes, it can be done well, and somehow I manage to do it well through force of sheer anxiety/luck/sleep deprivation/stubbornness, and folk are lovely, and I'm left wondering how the hell it happened 🥲 the ones where I play it safe always end up being underwhelming in quality and in response too, funnily enough, so it supports the whole thing about the best ideas being the ones that scare you.

Thank you!! 💜

[createseo01]

Buy Designer Party Wear Gowns Online

 Li & Li Couture, your source for clothing that truly shines, especially for kids who excel and the most beautiful kids ever. Their answer is LBL Clothing, and they offer Buy Designer Party Wear Gowns Online. Based in Kerala, India, their design and production studio is dedicated to creating clothing for women and children, with a particular emphasis on mother-daughter dresses for birthday celebrations.

Li & Li Couture's artistic passion is evident in their unique and innovative designs, designed to make your child feel like a celebrity. They take pride in the beauty of their workmanship and the quality of their materials, ensuring that your child is comfortable and stylish.Their commitment to using the best materials is a reflection of a mother's care. With Li & Li, you can explore a fresh world of style, quality, color, and silhouette. Since 2015, they have made their presence known in the fashion industry, and their focus on craftsmanship is evident in their designs. They have faith in the wealth of smart, accomplished, and knowledgeable individuals who make up their team. If you're looking for clothing that truly shines, especially for your kids, Li & Li Couture is the brand to explore.

[linkbetweenlinksau]

I figured I’d do something different and fun…

Ask the lbl boys anything!

I’ll respond in their characters :>

[smilesrobotlover]

Ok well. An anon a looong time ago asked how the lbl boys handled being sick so here’s the answer. Take 2 cuz tumblr friggin ate the other one and now it’s transported to the fourth dimension never to be seen again.

Sky: he’s ok, usually he sleeps it off and it’s kinda nice having an excuse to sleep all day. But when there’s something important going on like saving Zelda from evil he completely ignores self care and pushes through.

Minish: if it’s a fever or something that weakens him in any way he usually takes care of himself, cuz he has to lift heavy metal all day and he needs his strength. Now if it’s a cold he’ll work through it, and he’s actually really good at hiding being sick so sometimes grandpa smith doesn’t know.

Time: he’s gotten much better. Malon and Talon makes sure that if he has any sign of an illness that he gets medicine asap. A simple cold he works through, but anything else? Nope, he needs to rest.

Legend: he’s actually really good at taking care of himself. He listens to his body, sleeps, eats, takes medicine, and he’s usually able to toughen through it

Hyrule: absolutely awful he is in so much pain and agony but REFUSES to rest and pretends that everything is fine and dandy. He’s very stubborn and frustrating to deal with when he’s sick.

Twi: also pretty bad. He usually toughens through it but sometimes he overdoes it and passes out, which isn’t good. Unfortunately for him, Uli and Rusl won’t let him hurt himself that way, and he’s terrible at hiding it.

Four: uh, idk, it depends. Sometimes he lets himself rest and sometimes he doesn’t. It just depends on the circumstances.

Windy: he’s pretty bad, he always tries to push himself to exhaustion whenever he needs to do something, but luckily grandma’s soup helps him feel better and forced himself to rest.

Spirit: if Phantom ever catches him sick and not resting he’d get an earful from her lol. Alfonzo and Nikko never let him do anything if he was sick.

Age: bro is great at hiding it and great at toughening through it. If anyone catches him being vulnerable he’ll keel over and die.

Wild: he’d usually rest until he feels better and then continue on with his life. If he’s lucky he’ll be by a horse stable or something of the sort.

Warriors: he takes illnesses very seriously, so what does he do? Avoid everyone so they don’t get sick, and then does an awful job at taking care of himself. It’s better he dies than someone else

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Yeaaah, I’m just thinking about a whumptober thing. And Ammon stuff.

I cant think too hard about his older brother otherwise I’d get really sad 😭😭😭

Also I kinda wanna do one of those ask games where people actually ask my lbl boys something and I answer in their characters? Sounds like fun

It’s hard thinking about the things we do to our characters sometimes 🥲 I get sad thinking about Abel and the calamity. Ammon is precious and I adore him, give him hugs for me ❤️

You totally should! It would be fun, it helps to get into their heads and get their voices down too, as well as their likes/dislikes. :)

[concubine-mamas]

Will Kameko also be coming to ask-the-hidden-fates-cast?

unfortunately no, since the blog is more focused on the OCs that have a lot of interactions together between me and Shauni ;w; but maybe in the future! and of course Kameko is always here as well~

[ms-march]

Domestic life, 2

“What’s the wedding like? Who attends?”

AHHHHHH ok so you and maybe 2 other people know that this even happens BUT I really haven’t thought on it much. It would be a proper London wedding, though. The usual members of station would be invited, MPs, members of the aristocracy, and Members of the House of Lords would be in attendance with their wives. It would be incredibly formal as well.

Lots of tradition followed here, this time it is held more by Adrienne’s own planning than her mother’s. Her father really had no say in the match, she just kinda told him that was gonna marry Thaddeus and he just went “uhhh ok”

[colettebronte]

Soooo this is greedy, but I want Director's Commentary on Lord Bridgerton's List yup all of it tbh. Which is your fave? Which was the hardest to write? Which took you by surprise with its popularity? Also, when did you decide they would be a married couple playing a scenario? When I read the prologue with the contract negotiation etc, I assumed it was strangers, but in hindsight, I assume that all part of the role play? Fascinating choice, I loved that it was a twist I didn't see coming. And it was BENEDICTS flat?!? I damn near fell off my chair lol.

Wow, ALL of Lord Bridgerton’s List, huh? This one needed some time to think about. Leave it to you, my friend to ask a BIG one. 🧡 I’ll go line by line to answer it, pardon me if I paraphrase a bit. Apologies, this is gonna be a long one! 🫶

Which is your fave?

I have a few favorite parts: the first Queen and the General, Edging, Coming Untouched and Regency Masquerade: Anonymous Sex Also, even though writing threesomes are a NIGHTMARE, I’m proud of how well those fics turned out, especially Threesome 2

Which was the hardest to write?

Oh boy, if anyone paid attention to when I was updating the LBL Masterlist as I was writing, they would have seen that Pet Play kept getting pushed back until I FINALLY got it done for day 28. Pet play in itself is perceived by some as a pretty out there kink and I wanted to capture how sweet and playful it actually can be so it sat for a while as I struggled with the tone but I am really pleased with how it turned out!

Which took you by surprise with it’s popularity?

Honestly? All of it! When I started the series I assumed only I cared about how lil Sub!Anthony there was and maybe, MAYBE a few others would enjoy it, but I am BEYOND amazed and humbled that so many people enjoyed and still are enjoying it 🥰 btw, based on likes and Ao3 hits, the top fics from LBL are Anonymous Sex, Coming Untouched and a tie between Cam Boy 2: Overstimulation and Angry Sex which STILL gets new likes weekly

When did you decide they were going to be a married couple playing a scenario?

I’m going to answer your WHOLE last part here. So when I wrote the Prologue I was flying blind, writing as if it was a man hiring a Dom for the month, and believe me, I had no intention of actually writing 31 (34) fics in 31 (34) days but Anthony said it and that’s what happened 🤣

When I got to day 2 or 3, I thought the basic premise needed a twist, and I came up with the Scene-within-a scene idea and that they would be a married couple trying to be switches, and actually wrote Epilogue on day 4, where it remained mostly unchanged, with just minor edits as the main story progressed until November 1. As I wrote the epilogue, I knew Reader was giving the keys back to Sophie thus the decision to make it Benedict’s apartment just made sense. Just don’t think too hard about how implausible it is for one apartment to have all the rooms I described 🤣 I tried very hard to keep the character’s “real” feelings from bleeding through the aftercare scenes until the last handful of parts.

Soooo that’s my commentary! Thanks for the AMAZING ask @faye-tale this was a fun one to reflect back on!