[thetalkoftheton]

Anthony: *Sitting in an armchair, A tiny kitten is curled asleep on him.* This is untenable.

Little Y/N: I think it is rather sweet. He seems to find you comforting.

Anthony: He is not comforted. He is plotting. He is a menace, and he is wrinkling my trousers. I have commanded him to disembark on three separate occasions. He is wilfully disobedient.

Little Y/N: He is a kitten, brother, not a footman. He does not recognize your authority. Perhaps if you were to… nudge him?

Anthony: *He makes a minute, hesitant movement. The kitten stirs, emits a tiny squeak, and burrows deeper.* It has fortified its position.

Eloise: You could, of course, simply lift him off.

Anthony: And risk waking him completely? He was making a great deal of noise earlier. A period of silence is… beneficial for the household. I am merely allowing it to continue. For the sake of peace. It is merely a strategic truce.

[thetalkoftheton]

Y/N: It is just ridiculous! Why must I pretend to be a delicate flower? I am not delicate. I am sturdy. I am... utilitarian.

Benedict: Utilitarian?

Y/N: Yes! I am useful. I can climb a fence. I can read a map. I am excellent at riding. Yet society wants me to sit still and embroider pillows.

Benedict: I have seen your attempts at embroidery. It is a hazard to public safety.

Y/N: You miss my point entirely, Benedict.

Benedict: You wish to be seen for what you are. Capable. Brilliant. A little bit terrifying before you've had breakfast.

Y/N: Exactly. Thank you.

Benedict: You are welcome. Though, for what it is worth, I have never mistaken you for a delicate flower. You are more like... a very rare, rather thorny cactus. That I am exceedingly fond of.

[thetalkoftheton]

Y/N: We have passed that statue of Eros three times. I am beginning to think he is mocking me.

Anthony: We have not passed it three times. This is a different Eros. It is a very popular mythological figure.

*He turns a corner confidently, only to hit a dead end*

Y/N:  Ah. I see. And I suppose this dead end is also distinct from the previous two dead ends?

Anthony: You are enjoying this.

Y/N: I am wearing new silk slippers on damp grass. I am decidedly not enjoying this. I am merely marveling at your navigational confidence. It is truly a spectacle.

Anthony:  If you are quite finished maligning my sense of direction, I believe the exit is to the left.

Y/N: We came from the left.

Anthony: Then perhaps we should simply stay here. It is quiet. And I have you all to myself.

Y/N: …Well. If we are to perish in a hedge maze, I suppose the company is tolerable.

[thetalkoftheton]

I hope everything is okay!! 🩷

I am fine, thank you for asking! 💜 I've just been distracted with other things but hopefully I'll be back for a good while now.

[thetalkoftheton]

Y/N: If I do not acquire a glass of chilled ratafia or perhaps a very strong tea within the next three minutes, I shall cease to be a Lady.

Colin: You seem perfectly functional to me. A bit manic, perhaps, but functional.

Y/N: I am not functional, Colin! I am a shell. A hollow vessel! If I stop moving, I stop making sense. The words-putting-into-sentence-doing... it shall all stop!

Colin: The 'words-putting-into-sentence-doing'? Good God, it is worse than I feared. You are practically feral.

Y/N: I am desperate. I am maintaining this facade of elegance by a thread. A very frayed thread.

Colin: Then allow me to save you from scandal. I shall procure you one of the strongest drinks in the refreshment tent.

[thetalkoftheton]

I love your little!bridgerton!reader quotes! They are so chaotic and funny 😂😂

Thank you! They're my favourite ones to do. 😄

[thetalkoftheton]

Benedict: Could you try to hold that expression? Just for a moment longer. The light is perfect.

Y/N: Which one? The one of mild contentment or the one where I am contemplating the inevitability of death? They feel very similar on my face.

Violet: Just think of something pleasant, dearest. A new pony. A trip to the modiste.

Y/N: I am thinking of how this portrait will remain long after I am gone. It will hang here, on this wall, whilst I am but dust and bone. The paint will outlast my skin. Is that not a pleasant thought?

Benedict: It is... a thought. A rather morbid one. Can we try for "delighted by a piece of marzipan" instead?

Y/N: But one cannot be delighted by marzipan for a prolonged period. The delight is fleeting. A fixed smile is a lie. Do you wish to paint a lie, Benedict? Are you a liar with a paintbrush?

[thetalkoftheton]

Y/N: All afternoon you have followed me. You have commented on the canapés I choose, disagreed with my assessment of the string quartet, and now you critique a rose bush I happened to be admiring.

Anthony: I have not been following you. I have been… circulating and offering my well-honed critiques.

Y/N: Are you attempting to court me?

Anthony: What? No! That is- of course not! I was merely making conversation.

Y/N: Because the way you do it, finding fault with everything I enjoy, lingering just a little too close, wearing that particular expression of intense focus, one might mistake it for flirtation. A very elaborate, rather critical form of flirtation.

Anthony: It is not flirtation! It is… annoyance. I am annoyed. By your questionable taste in music. And your defense of unimaginative topiary.

Y/N: I see. So, your constant, undivided, and rather particular attention is a sign of your deep annoyance with my person.

Anthony: Precisely.

[thetalkoftheton]

Benedict: You have a most particular way of turning a page. As if you are revealing a secret the author told only you.

Y/N: And you, Benedict, have a most particular way of observing that makes the very words on the page seem to dance away from me. It is… an entirely unhelpful state of affairs.

Benedict: Unhelpful? I am wounded. I thought my appreciation would lend a certain, artistic inspiration, to your reading.

Y/N: It lends a certain heat to my cheeks and a complete absence of narrative comprehension. If you are not careful, I shall be forced to ask you to sketch the roses on the far side of the garden, lest this entire chapter remain a mystery to me forever.

Benedict: Then let the chapter remain a mystery. Why should I trouble myself with sketching those pale imitations when I find I am far more captivated by the brilliant rose flush you wear upon your cheeks right now?

[thetalkoftheton]

Eloise: It's all so dreadfully dull! The dancing, the simpering, the endless talk of marriage. I do not wish to be admired, I wish to be… of some use! To create something, to learn something! Why can a man be a scholar or an artist, but a woman must only be a wife? 

Y/N: Eloise, if you ever decide to run away and start a society for intellectually curious women, I demand to be your first member. 

Eloise: It is a pact!

[thetalkoftheton]

Anthony: Swear you will behave tonight.

Y/N: Upon my honour, I shall behave in strict accordance with my nature.

Anthony: That is precisely what alarms me.

Colin: And precisely what enchants me.

[thetalkoftheton]

Violet: Is everyone ready? Anthony, has everyone been accounted for?

Anthony: Almost. Y/N appears to have misplaced their gloves. Y/N, we are going to be late! Where do you last remember having them?

Little Y/N: *Rushes down the stairs, looking frantic* It’s not about the gloves! Don't you see? The gloves are just the beginning!

Eloise: The beginning of what? A light chill on your hands?

Little Y/N: First, my gloves go missing. Then, I heard a floorboard creak in a rhythm that is mathematically impossible. And just now, I am sure I heard the clock in the hall chime thirteen times! It's a pattern! A rift in the fabric of the household!Something is coming!

Anthony: What is coming is the carriage driver's impatience.

Little Y/N: No, no, no! Listen! Missing things, impossible sounds, time behaving erratically! We can't go to the musicale! We have to arm ourselves with whatever is handy, croquet mallets, heavy books, that particularly ugly vase and defend Bridgerton House! It is of vital importance!

~ Francesca wordlessly walks over, finds the gloves tucked into Y/N's own coat pocket, and places them on their hands. ~

Little Y/N: Oh. Well. I suppose the house is safe for now.

[thetalkoftheton]

~Anthony is lecturing his siblings about their responsibilities. Y/N is standing beside Daphne, watching.~

Anthony: ...and furthermore, the reputation of this family depends upon every single one of us upholding a certain standard of behavior!

Y/N: *Whispering* My, what a magnificent speech. So much passion. I feel an overwhelming urge to do something chaotic, just to see the look on his face.

Daphne: *Trying not to laugh* Don't you dare.

Y/N: I could simply begin to hum, very quietly at first, and then gradually increase the volume. Or perhaps I will develop a sudden, uncontrollable twitch in my arm.

Daphne: Y/N, I am warning you.

Anthony: Is there something you wish to share with everyone, Y/N?

Y/N: I was simply admiring your cravat. It is tied with such... authority.

[thetalkoftheton]

Benedict: Hiding from your mother? A bold strategy. She has the eyes of a hawk and the tenacity of a debt collector.

Y/N: *Sighing dramatically* I cannot bear to spend another hour debating the merits of cream versus ivory for the tablecloths. My soul is withering, Benedict.

Benedict: *A conspiratorial glint in his eye.* Then we must escape. Let us weigh our options. We could feign a sudden illness. A migraine, perhaps?

Y/N: Too common. She would see through it instantly.

Benedict: Very well. Let us make a list of the advantages and disadvantages of simply fleeing. Advantage: We could take a boat out on the Serpentine to "conduct a study of the play of light upon the water." Disadvantage: your Mother will give us the Look of Disappointment when we return, which is far more devastating than any lecture.

Y/N: A worthy point. But think of the other advantages: Freedom. Adventure. No tablecloths.

Benedict: You have convinced me. Come, my fellow fugitive. Our boat awaits.

[thetalkoftheton]

Kate: Y/N, might I trouble you for a small favor?

Little Y/N: For you, anything.

Kate: Could you please pass the salt?

Little Y/N: *Stares intently at the salt cellar*

Kate: It is just there. To your left.

Little Y/N:  Yes, I know. But the action is fraught with peril. What if I apply too much force and it slides across the table, disrupting Lord Cho's pudding? What if I lift it with insufficient grace, drawing the eye of Lady Danbury, who will surely judge my wrist-work? The social ramifications are... immense.

Anthony:  For God's sake, Y/N, just push the salt.

Little Y/N: Push it? Are we barbarians? This requires finesse! A delicate, gliding motion, it is a dance between intention and etiquette!

*Kate quietly reaches over and gets the salt herself.*

Little Y/N: Oh. Well, I see you have chosen the path of reckless expediency. A bold choice.

[thetalkoftheton]

Eloise: It is all so pointless. The dresses, the dancing, the endless parade of suitors who can barely form a coherent sentence. Is this truly all there is for us?

Y/N: There are other options.

Eloise: Such as?

Y/N: We could feign a terrible wasting illness. It would get us out of at least two seasons. Or we could become notorious card sharps. Or, and this is my preferred plan, we simply start dressing as men and live out our days as 'eccentric bachelors' in a cottage by the sea subsisting on tea and indignation.

Eloise: You have thought about this a great deal, haven't you?

Y/N: A lady must always have a contingency plan.

[thetalkoftheton]

Benedict: Forgive me for staring, but when you stand there, bathed in the candlelight, it is as if the heavens opened and you are the only star in the entire sky. Every other person here is simply... cosmic dust.

Y/n: Oh, Benedict. That is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard, how very considerate of you.

Benedict: Considerate?

Y/N: Yes, if I am the only star, that means all of this cosmic dust is not burning with jealousy, but is simply happy to float nearby. It means the other young ladies over there are not glaring at my gown, they are merely orbiting. It makes the entire evening so much more peaceful!

Benedict: *A slow smile spreading across his face* You are entirely welcome.