#also this section is getting away from me

[jun-was-taken]

There's no gaming experience that's been able to match it. It's one of those rare experiences where it just so thoroughly hits your resonate frequency your brain starts vibrating.

The game's systems and story are so singular in their theme and thesis. Everything you do reinforces the idea that human connection can overcome even the most fucked up dire situations.

One of the mechanics in this game is you can setup bits of infrastructure that people can see and use in their own worlds. You'll see a conveniently placed ladder here, a perfect save-your-ass-I-don't-have-shit-on-me rope there. Someone was looking out for you. You sauce them as many likes as you can. While you're helping the characters in-universe, you're also the guardian angels for other porters that are literally following in your footsteps.

It starts off small. You pack an extra ladder when you know you don't really need it, just so you can go off the beaten track and bridge a gap. Just for the simple pleasure of maybe it'll help someone. Oh man, that cliff was a real pain in the ass to go around. I'm ganna go back and put the rope I wish was there. The next thing you know, you're loading up your truck with literal tons of raw materials to complete out sections of highway.

You've cleared out everyone's stash of metals and ceramics. You stuff your truck, all 28 XL containers of assorted raw materials, beautifully stacked in the back. You're cruising down the freshly paved highway you just helped create. You have a podcast on and you're swerving spooky ghost creatures. One section done. Then two. Then three. The truck bed is lookin a lot lighter. You get to the last section of highway you planned to finish for that route. Time to cash in those last few containers. It'll be a job well done, clean op, time to dust your hands off. You did the math wrong. Ahh shit. You eye the last few containers rolling around in the back. You look around and spot an old rusted bridge. It's well traveled and loved, but it's seen better days. It's a good distance away but you could repair it with what you have in the back. Your truck is rusted and sparking from all the timefall. But the old girl has no quit in her. She'll always take you to where you need to go. You give that bridge a new lease on life, ready for the next set of muddy boots. Then you head back to the DC, planning your next route all the way to do it all over again. But first, a much needed break for the truck and for Sam.

This game is full little stories like this. I've setup a zipline network which involves braving the sketchiest parts of the world. Fighting through literal nightmare hell zones just to set it up. I booted up the game a few months later. I came back to see that multiple porters not only braved the same hell zone, but they schlepped their own materials to not only make sure it didn't rust away, but even upgraded. They had tons strapped to their backs, fighting like hell just so that the safe passage remains open. It makes my heart swell even as I type this out.

Every playthrough will be unique and deeply personal. Acts of service is the love language that ties every porter together. A simple thumbs up means everything. While I get that it's not a game everyone will enjoy, if anything that I wrote interests you, I hope that you give it a try. It's very special to me.

I highly recommend playing Death Stranding if you got a system to play it on

it’s set in this post apocalyptic world where everyone turns into a nuclear explosion ghost after death and the rain makes you and everything else old and for 30-40 years no one’s been able to do anything to combat it except bunker down underground and incinerate the dead. People are isolated because, wouldn’t you be if your neighbour dying meant your city turned into a crater?

but in spite of this all there’s hope that we can connect people again. The NPCs are relentlessly optimistic that we can manage the explosion ghosts if we work together. So much of it is just, building up small contributions and having them pile up and before you know it, you got something big going on. You’re the big damn hero (a guy with insane core strength who doesn’t die) tackling the (literally) heavy stuff but the NPCs are all eager to contribute whatever they can. Here’s some custom boots. A protoype engine. A non-lethal ranged weapon. A place to stay. A bridge to cross a river. A parcel of materials to build with. A generator just as your truck battery is dying. A good luck charm. A remote operated surgical table. A sign that says Keep On Keeping On.

I think it’s important to remember that the small stuff matters. It helped me a lot during the pandemic. The world is heavy and not everyone can lift 100kg, but we can all do something even if it’s just some words to remind people we’re in it together.

Also, Trump canonically died in a ghost explosion and was utterly annihilated down to the atoms.

[ventismacchiato]

OIKAWA AS YOUR MUTUAL THAT YOU HATE IRL

oikawa x gender neutral reader

you and toru have been mutuals on twitter for almost a year as you both run and met through twice fan accounts. you talk to him more than your irl friends atp. on the other hand you and oikawa don’t get along irl, as you’re both on opposing college teams and constantly competing for nationals. since then he’s always picked on you at games, but that all changes when you finally decide to meet your favorite oomf in person.

notes — karasuno is a mixed gender team in this to keep it gn, and instead of highschool these are college teams / the messages in the first section are like throughout the week before you two meet up

ooc idk? it’s been a while. assume everyone is 20ish, i cud make this a cute mini au one day but rn i’m lazy so this is fast paced

also here’s the soobin version i wrote a while ago

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Your stomach was swarming with nerves as you made your way inside the cafe, the scent of freshly made coffee and sweaty college students from the stadium surrounding you as you slid into line. Admittedly, you never thought you'd get the chance to meet Toru, he was just your cute internet friend and nothing would ever happen.

That was, until today.

It was a bit embarrassing that you stared at the selfie he'd sent for longer than you should've. It was difficult to comprehend the boy you'd been talking to for so long was hiding such a pretty figure. Even with the emoji hiding his face you could tell he was cute.

You eye the display of cakes and decide to pick one up for the both of you as Toru had already promised to get you guys coffee. You felt bad going empty handed after finally meeting him.

You reach down to grab onto the last chocolate slice and your hands meet another. Usually, you'd let it slide and choose something else even though you touched it first. But, when you looked to your left and locked eyes with your self-proclaimed enemy, Toru Oikawa, those thoughts washed away. You were going to fight for that slice of mediocre cake.

"Not you again," Oikawa sighed, tugging the slice towards him, "Don't be obnoxious."

"Says you," you scoff, tightly grabbing onto the plate, "Why are you always so rude towards me? Is it because we annihilated you in the game?”

"You were just lucky," He grins, his large hands tugging the cake closer towards him, "Choose something else.”

"You choose something else. Losers don’t deserve nice cake! I got to it first!”

"Ok and?" Oikawa questions, like the little shit he is.

"Fine, just take it," you sigh, not wanting to make Toru wait. Good Toru, not this evil one beside you. But as you let go of the cake and step back you notice Oikawa’s outfit. He was adorned in clothes that oddly resembled the photo Toru had sent you.

"You made me lose my appetite," Oikawa mutters, dropping the cake and shuffling past you. You shake off the familiarity and make your way towards the back. Most men wore the same clothes, it was nothing.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

You eye the walls of the cafe until you come across the wooden tables from the photo.

You start scouring the seats for someone that resembled Toru but the only person in your vicinity was Oikawa.

You inch your way closer towards him with morbid curiosity, hoping that your suspicions would be proved wrong. But as you got closer the drinks on the table and location of your rival were too similar to the photo Toru had sent you.

Unfortunately, Oikawa locked eyes with you.

"What do you want? Are you here to apologize?" he questions, playing with the straw of his drink as he barely gave you a glance.

"Toru? From twitter?" you tentatively ask, your voice hoarse from the nerves. This couldn't be happening.

Oikawa pauses.

"What?" he slowly asks, turning to look at you, "What did you call me?"

"Oh my god," you gasp, "Are you ruluvyeon?"

"What..," he starts, catching on, "You're urmomoyn?"

Your username sounds foreign on his tongue but it was him. Oikawa was your Toru. Evil Toru was your sweet Toru.

Your beloved Toru was the same guy you've been on bad terms with all year. Just your luck.

Before Oikawa could comprehend anything or you could answer, you decide to do the most mature thing anyone would do in that situation.

You run.

And he doesn't follow.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

a week later

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

The street was dark apart from the flickering lamps on the side of the walkway as you made your way towards Oikawa - or well Toru’s - house. It still felt odd.

Your palms felt clammy and you were clad in your pajamas, in too much of a rush to change. Which was a decision you were regretting since the flimsy fabric did nothing to protect you against the wind.

Before you knew it you spotted the complex Toru supposedly lived in, and as you walked closer you could see his tall figure waiting for you in the dark. It would've been rather creepy if not for the fact he was drowning in a large hoodie and sweats with a beanie tugged on his hair.

His arms were crossed across his chest as he rocked back and forth due to the cold.

You swallowed your nerves and made your way towards him, not quite knowing what to do with your hands other than give him an awkward wave as he spotted you.

"Hey," he breathed out, gesturing for you to follow him inside.

The warmth of his apartment was far more welcoming than the freezing night. He shut the door behind you both and tugged off his beanie as he gestured for you to sit down.

"Hi," you greeted back as you sank down on his couch. The entire place felt very lived in.

Toru’s face scrunched up into an sly smile.

"I missed you," you added, "I'm glad you reached out."

"I am too," he hummed, reaching out to take his hand into yours. His palms felt warm against your own freezing ones.

"What was your last text about?" you question as his thumb rubs circles on your palm.

"I don't know what you’re talking about?" he smiles, "What did I say?"

"You know damn well what you said," you huff.

"Okay, well I meant it," he answers, "I convinced myself to try and forget you since you were an online friend. But having you right in front of me changed things."

"Changed things how?" you say, warmth creeping up your cheeks.

"Well, for one I can actually see you," Oikawa notes, "And do things like this," he adds, his voice going quiet as he reaches over to push a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "And, instead of fantasizing about kissing you, I could actually do it."

"You fantasized about it?" you ask in disbelief, still flustered at the touch of his hand so close to your face "You didn't even know what I looked like!"

"You were kinda just a blob in my mind," he shrugs, a smile tilting his lips at your offended face.

"A cute blob though, right?”

"Of course."

“You never imagined me as my icon?”

“Only when you changed it to Gojo.”

“Oh fuck off,” you laugh.

"So, you really don't hate me?" you muse, playing with his fingers, "It's so weird seeing you be so gentle."

"Would you rather me go back to being rude?" he replies, "But I really don't. I feel a shitty at how I used to treat you. You just get me riled up.”

"It's okay, I did the same," you assure, patting his hand, "Let's start fresh."

"Okay," he agrees, clasping your hand in between his, "Let's go out."

"Straight to the point?"

"I don't think we should waste any more time," he replies, “And my entire team thinks I made you up.”

“I need to make it up to you,” you sigh.

"Kiss me and consider yourself forgiven," Oikawa easily grins, looking at you with the usual look of arrogance he sends you through the net when he wishes you a terrible game. But this time it looks different. Like he wants you to win.

“Alright,” you manage to croak out, your throat closing up at your false confidence.

Honestly, you were qute irritated with yourself on how you treated Oikawa for the past few months. You desperately wanted to move on and start fresh.

Oikawa let out a surprised laugh and you wanted to ingrain the sound into your mind. He brought up his free palm to his mouth and let out a small giggle into it.

“Go ahead then,” he smiles.

"Okay," you manage to say, taking a deep breath.

"Any day now,” Oikawa smirks.

"Shut up, I need a moment-," you started, but were interrupted as he reached over and yanked on your top to slot his lips against yours. He stumbled and you both fell backwards onto the couch as he caught himself above you, both knees outside your hips as you snaked your hands around his waist.

He stared at your for a mere moment in disbelief before leaning down to capture your lips with his. His lips felt pillowy against your own and his warm body right on top of yours made it feel just as good.

You had to remind yourself not to laugh into the kiss.

[adnirod]

Book 2 for 2025 book bingo! For the "Published Before 1950" square (so many options! I love to read older books!) I selected the original "The Adventures of Pinocchio" (1883), translated by Carol Della Chiesa in 1926.

All I knew about this book was that it was different from the Disney movie, and that instead of the wise and friendly Jiminy Cricket as Pinocchio's conscience, there's a talking cricket that tries to advise Pinocchio until Pinocchio smashes him to death with a hammer. (I think Stephen King mentioned this in something of his--maybe "Danse Macabre"?). So I wasn't really at risk of tonal whiplash.

As promised, this is a pretty dark story--Pinocchio is mostly a pure chaos agent, kind of like Curious George except with violence and death, plus always someone looking to trick/prey on/take advantage of you. The narrator delivers morals, but for most of the book they come across (to me, at least, in translation and from my different historical context) as brightly tongue-in-cheek, since once a moral gets set out, Pinocchio generally smashes right through it. He's not malicious per se, but he is entirely impulsive and only does what he wants to do, and then cries about it afterward in self-pity once he has Fucked Around And Found Out. Then he gets rescued somehow, and heads back into the FAFO cycle.

I enjoyed the Fox-and-Cat sections, because of the difference between what Pinocchio knows, how the narrator describes things, and what we as readers (if we can get the hang of unreliable narration) know. They're con artists, they have unacknowledged cover stories and nefarious plans, while Pinocchio (and the narrative) is taking them entirely at their word. I can't remember when I first learned to navigate narrative unreliability in my own childhood reading, but I definitely came to love that feeling.

The last section of the book feels different--the stated morals start feeling more serious, and Pinocchio starts doing kind and positive things without being forced to. That means the sense of humor changes too--it kind of filters away, as does the sharp irony and the layers of unreliability. And a few earlier events get softened--like, the Talking Cricket reappears toward the end of the book without any explanation, scolds Pinocchio for the hammer thing, delivers a sententious moral, and Pinocchio apologizes and agrees with him. Definitely different than the Pinocchio of the earlier sections. (Although interestingly, Pinocchio may have Plot Armor, but even once the book has gentled a bit, other characters still die--like, Lamp-Wick, someone who convinced Pinocchio to misbehave, doesn't get rescued from being turned into a donkey the way Pinocchio was rescued. He's bought and then worked to death, and dies in a sad on-page scene.)

I read more about the book afterward and found out it was originally a magazine serial, so it all makes perfect sense, the episodic nature and the tone change and whatnot. Wikipedia also said that the serial originally ended fairly early on, when Pinocchio is punished by being hanged by the neck from a tree and dies (whereas in the book he's hanged and almost dies but is rescued). (Man, my childhood books were never like this.)

It really benefited Collodi to start up again with a fixit, given how popular the happy-ending book version became all over the world. It's hard to imagine a dead-at-the-end version becoming as beloved in places like the U.S.--at least in my sense of children's literature at that time, it wouldn't have much room for such a pitch-black tone.

@batmanisagatewaydrug

[echoingbirdsofprey]

Delicate (Jake's Version)

25 - I Find Some Peace Of Mind, Knowing I Let Go In Time

Pairings: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OFC Samantha Kazansky, Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x OFC Samantha Kazansky, OMC Captain Bodhi 'Sunshine' Denson x OFC Samantha Kazansky

Rating: EXPLICIT (MDNI!) (DON'T YOU DARE I STG)

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNINGS description of sexual coercion leading to dubious consent leading to sexual assault, traumatic fear response in a separate encounter, and at the end SMUT (not related to the SA) unprotected!piv (wrap before you tap)

A/N: This is long and it's very important. There are trigger warnings. They are as follows: description of sexual coercion leading to dubious consent, leading to sexual assault. Yes, this is a flashback of what Sam told Jake about. No, it is not the entire encounter but if you feel uncomfortable in any way, I suggest you not read it and you skip down to the planes and anchor page break. After the page break you will find and encounter that Sam has with another man that is not Rooster and not Jake. This encounter is from Sam's memory and it shows her trauma and hesitation and it is also the one that helps her heal (slightly) from what Rooster did. At the very end you will find a small section of her with Jake. This chapter is a fucking journey and I honestly enjoyed writing it so much because though we speak about about sexual assault and a certain 'R' word, I don't think we speak about encounters like this one mentioned enough. That's all I'll say on that. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk, and thank you for continuing to read. I know I've thrown some real curve balls at y'all but hopefully they bring something real and emotionally to the story that resonates.

As always your feedback drives me and I appreciate every comment, reblog, and like on these stories. And yes, I thought of Alex O'Loughlin when I was writing Bodhi Denson. Song listed below was the inspiration for the title and storyline for this particular chapter.

Tags: @mrsevans90 @djs8891 @gpsmississippihippie @barnesboo1967 @dizzybee03

Samantha entered the bar on her father's arm. He had just had surgery not long ago to remove several tumors along his esophagus and he was not in much of a place to talk. She noticed a familiar face coming through the crowd. 

“Hey Sammy.” Rooster said as he pulled her into for a hug. It was a warm and tight hug, and she could tell how much he missed her by the duration of it.

“Hey Roos. Long time no see huh?” She said. Her father stepped away, being ushered by Maverick to hang out with some of their old friends. She recognized Slider and Wolfman, old friends of their, and fellow pilots, who had come visit the house many a time while Sam was growing up. Rooster left his hand’s lingering on her waist and he smiled down at her.

“I missed you.” He said, pulling her in again for a hug, this time shorter and then he awkwardly let go of her.

“Yeah you too.”Sam said, feeling there was an odd tension between the two of them, but she decided to ignore it. Rooster found a table in the back of the room and set Sam up there. He went to get drinks for both of them several times and  it didn’t take long for Sam to feel herself getting tipsy. Rooster noticed and put a hand at her back to steady.

“You okay?” He asked. 

“I'm a little drunk Roos.” She giggled, her brain feeling all happy and bubbly with the alcohol.

“Well maybe you should head home?” He said, as he gently caressed her cheek. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. She was dizzied by the action, his hand wrapping around her back and his other at the back of her neck. She pushed him away and wiped her mouth, glaring at him.

“Dad's with Mav. He's enjoying himself.” She said in a somewhat annoyed tone. It wasn’t directed at her father. It was towards Rooster.

“I can take you wherever you wanna go then.” He said and she pursed her lips.

“Why don't we go back to your place if you're so keen on kissing me. I don't want anyone to think we're together.” She joked, making Rooster bristle. Sometimes he hated her when she was drunk. She became a completely different person.

“Wow, Sammy. That's harsh.” He said and she shrugged and took another sip of her drink.

“Sorry but I'm not allowed to date Navy guys. Daddy says so.” She said in a teasing tone. Rooster grabbed for her again, this time pinning her to a wall in a more secluded area.

“I'm not just any Navy guy.” Rooster said as he descended on her lips again. Sam fought him, clawing at his shirt to try to get him off. He only pulled away when she dug her long nails into his chest.

‘Bradley. Stop it. I'm drunk.” She murmured, with a goofy smirk. Rooster couldn’t tell if she was being serious, or if she was trying to get him horny. Either way, he wasn’t having her be this drunk and stay at the bar.

‘C'mon princess.” He said, taking her hand and pulling her out of the bar.

“Where are we going? You can't drive.” She asked as he pulled her along.

“My apartment is a couple minutes walk.” He murmured and she tried to dig in her heels but she was wobbly and he was the only thing keeping her from falling. Not wanting to hurt herself she gave in and followed. When they arrived, he fumbled with his keys but unlocked the door and let them in. He led her to the couch and got her settled and then went to lock the door and get two glasses and a bottle of vodka. “Another drink?”

“I don't need to be more drunk you idiot.” She groaned and laid her head back against the back of the couch. 

“Well now you're safe so...if you want it...” He said, pouring a shot in each glass. He handed it to her and they both smirked at each other and took the shot. Rooster loved a good drink with a pretty girl.

As they sat on the couch, Rooster placed his phone on the table and pressed play on a playlist with old soft rock music that his dad used to listen to. He scooted closer to Sam as she placed her glass down. He reached for her, his hands going for her waist. She tensed and Rooster’s grip tightened slightly. 

“Roos...” Sam sighed, as he began to kiss her neck. “Roos, stop.” 

He drew back and he sighed. He stood and walked to another room. Sam sat there for a few moments, wondering if she’d upset him. She stood, wobbly as all hell and used the wall to head toward the room that she thought he went into. He was standing in the middle and when he saw Sam he stepped toward her.

“Roos, why are you so sad?”

“I just need a friend right now, Sammy. Work’s been hell. I’m so tired.”

“I’m sorry, Roos.” She said, placing a hand on his cheek. He leaned down and pulled her close. He drew back and kissed her again.

“I need a friend right now, Sammy.” He said softly, as his arms caged her in. She was dizzy from the alcohol. The room was spinning and she was so disoriented so she let Rooster pull her toward the bed hoping it would stop there, both the effects of the alcohol and Rooster coming onto her. He turned and placed her down on the bed, climbing over the top of her. He began to pull the skirt of her dress up and she squirmed in his arms.

“Bradley...I don’t want...” She began but his fingers made their way to her core. She gasped at the intrusion. He was rough and sloppy with his digits as he worked her arousal up. 

“C’mon princess, please, just be a good girl for me? I’ll be really good to you.” She couldn't help what her body was doing. She felt betrayed by it. She felt betrayed by her childhood friend. 

“Bradley, please stop.” She moaned. He drew back for a moment and his gaze darkened. 

“I thought you liked me, Sammy. I like you. I love you.” His grip tightened more and Sam’s eyes widened. He pulled away to unbutton his pants.

“I do like you, Roos.” Sam said, becoming complacent. She knew she couldn't overpower him, and she also knew that this wasn't him, it was the alcohol. In the back of her mind though, this was him. He had always been pushy with her. The alcohol just seemed to make him worse.

“Well, then kiss me Sammy.” He said and she kissed him back hesitantly. If she appeased him, he wouldn’t escalate, or at least that was her hope. 

“I don’t want to do it like this...” She said, and it seemed as though for a moment, his demeanor changed and his gaze softened. His grip lessened. 

“You’re killing me with all this back and forth, princess. Let's just do this. We've been friends forever, don't you want more?” He asked and he gave her a moment, running his hand gently over her cheek, a stark contrast to how he had begun. Her eyes met his.

“I...Roos..” She began but as he freed himself from his pants, there was no time to object. He pushed inside of her and quieted her pained moan with his mouth. He only pulled away to praise her.

“God, I knew you’d feel good, Samantha. I fucking knew it. Been dreaming about this for years, princess.” He sighed against her ear and she closed her eyes tight, as she grabbed his biceps, trying to ground herself. Tears rolled down her cheeks as he continued.

She didn't want this.

🛩⚓️🛩

A couple of months later...

“This seat taken?” Sam heard a voice behind her, making her flinch slightly. She wasn’t coming out to get hit on. She came to people watch. And because she knew Rooster wasn’t in Miramar.

“No, feel free.” She said, her tone annoyed. The man sat down at the bar stool next to her and smiled. Sam glanced at him and did a double take. He was...good looking. Tall, blond, blueish eyes, and a beard with a bit of grey mixed in. He was slender and muscular, and surprisingly pale. He wore his Navy khakis, and Sam glanced at his name patch and rank. A silver eagle. Captain Denson.

“Thanks. I'm Bodhi.” He said, holding out his hand for her to shake.

“I'm Samantha.” She said, taking his hand, it was big and warm. She blushed a little and pulled her hand away. His smile was warm and he regarded her softly.

“Your Kazansky's daughter right? He's an old friend.” He said. Sam raised a brow.

“Yeah.  How do you know my dad?” She asked.

“ I'm a pilot.  Flew with him a while back.” He said, leaning his elbow on the bar. Penny smiled at him and placed a beer in front of him.

“Oh yeah? What’s your callsign then? Maybe he’s mentioned you.” Sam said, her tone slightly teasing.

“Sunshine.” He said, taking a sip of the beer.

“Nope, don’t recognize that. You have a story for that?” Sam asked, finishing off her own drink. Her third Moscow Mule.

“Everyone in my squadron used to make fun of me for being a grumpy fuck in the morning, so they called me Sunshine. I grew to love the teasing. Meant they cared about me. I uh...heard your dad was sick? How's he doing?” Bodhi asked, his smile widening as he told her about his callsign and then a frown returning at the mention of Iceman.

“He's okay. Just had another surgery but recovered well. I'm hoping he'll make it to my graduation.” Sam explained and he nodded.

“I'm sure he does too. What about you? Graduation from where?” He asked.

“Harvard. Finance.” Sam said matter-of-factly.

“Smart and beautiful. “ Bodhi said with a smirk, then he glanced away as if he’d embarrassed himself by saying that. Sam thanked him for the compliment and it almost made her laugh. His eyes searched the bar and then he asked her another question. “Are you just home for the weekend?”

‘Yeah.” She said, as Penny came by and Sam put her hand over her drink, signaling that she didn’t want another.

“Can I buy you a drink then? No strings attached.” Bodhi said as he took another sip of his drink.

“Um...I don't think that's a great idea.” She shook her head and pursed her lips, her eyes fixating on him.

“Okay, yeah, no I get it. Sorry, that was creepy.” His eyes traveled back to hers and his smile was apologetic.

“No, no, I’m just not trying to get super drunk. I've already had a little more than I should've.” Sam said, leaning back on the seat and glancing around. She didn’t know if she should look for a way out yet.

“How about a non-alcoholic drink then?” He asked. Sam’s head whipped around then and she tensed.

“Thank you, but I'm all set.” She said, swallowing hard. Time to start looking for the exit. She shifted in her seat and went to pull her card from her wallet.

“So...you didn't wanna join the Navy like your dad?” Bodhi asked, slowly sipping his beer.

“Haha, no. I have an issue with authority.” Sam chuckled as she handed her card to Penny.

“Yeah? You're a rebel then?” He asked.

“I just don't like men dictating my every move.” Sam said, her eyes meeting his.

“Well, sometimes your superior officer is a woman.” He said, shifting in his seat. Did he just move closer to her?

“Yeah but more often than not it’s a man.” Sam said, bouncing her leg slightly. She was getting inpatient and uncomfortable now.

“Okay...yeah I gotcha. I get it.” He said, another gulp of liquid going down his throat. 

“You don’t. You’re a man.” Sam affirmed, her stare hardening.

“You’re right, I don't get it. Help me understand.” Bodhi said, his tone softening. 

“You could never understand...” She said, as Penny handed her card back. She placed it in her phone case.

“Try me.” He said, leaning closer, his voice going slightly higher.

“I don’t really want to talk about this anymore.” Sam said, standing and placing her phone on the bar in front of her as she brushed off the front of her dress, making sure there was nothing on it. 

“I get the feeling we’re not talking about you not being in the Navy anymore...” Bodhi said, straightening. He tilted his head.

“I’m sorry...I have to go.” Sam panicked and she nearly ran out of the Hard Deck then, wobbly on her feet as she went. By the grace of god she made it out the door and down the front steps but then she heard Bodhi’s voice behind her.

“Hey! Wait up a sec!” He called, and as he got closer, Sam drew back, her eyes wide in fear.

“Look...I’m not interested in you okay?” She raised her voice and he put his hands up.

“Wasn’t asking if you were...you left your phone on the bar...” He said, holding out her phone. Now she felt like an asshole. All thanks to Rooster and every other guy that had tried to pick her up at a bar. Fucking men.

“Oh...I’m so sorry...Thank you.” She said, taking her phone. His hand lingered on hers for a few moments before he pulled back and rubbed the back of his neck. Sam hadn’t realized her breath was coming out quicker than before.

“Look, honey, are you okay to drive home? You just seem real upset...” Bodhi said softly, stepping toward her. 

“I’m fine...” She warned, her eyes flicking up to his. 

“No, you’re not. Let me drive you home. I swear, I mean no harm, I’m just lookin’ out for you.” His hands were careful on her upper arms and he noticed the mistiness in her brown eyes. She pulled away from him and stepped back.

“No...I...please leave me alone...” She turned to walk away and stumbled.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I wish you the best.” He said, shaking his head. She could hear the complacency in his tone. She took a few more steps and then took a deep breath. She shouldn’t drive. Her vision wasn’t blurry, but the world spun just a little bit and she didn’t want to get into an accident.

“Hey...wait...I’m sorry...actually...you offered...I don’t feel comfortable driving.” She turned and held a hand up apologetically. Bodhi hadn’t budged from his spot.

“Okay. Here, c’mon. My trucks over here.” His voice was gentle and he stepped toward her, putting his arms around her. He helped her into the passenger side and shut the door. He walked around and got in, starting the engine and then glancing at her.

“Where do you live?” He asked. She hesitated for a moment, not wanting to tell him but then reasoning with her stupid brain that she had to for him to drive her home. Idiot.

“Just off Antares Drive.” She said, leaning against the window.

“Okay, short drive.” His hands wrapped around the wheel and Sam could only think about how veiny and big they were...

“Do you not have a wife or kids to go home to?” She asked, eyes searching his form for a lie. He sighed heavily.

“Nah. Divorced. She took the kid and moved him across the country. Cheated while I was deployed. I’m hoping one day Toby, my son, will want to come find me, but I’m not holding out hope.” His glance only made it over her face, which he noticed a blush over her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry.” She said, moving in the seat to face him.

“Nah, it’s okay...what about you? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?” He asked as he observed how dark it had gotten in so little time. 

“No boyfriend. Boys suck. They’re all assholes.” Her tone was bored and flat, and it made Bodhi laugh.

“Yeah, you’re right about that.” He said with a smile.

“Especially when they’re your best friend. And they think that you owe them something.” She said, more annoyed now. Bodhi raised a brow.

“Uh...are we getting to the root of your problem here?” He asked, eyes flicking between her and the road.

“I don’t know you...I’ll probably never see you again...I feel like I can tell you anything and it won’t fucking matter.” She confessed, hands playing with the skirt of her dress as she looked back out the window. She could see jets taking off as they drove along a quiet road next to the airstrip.

“That is all pretty accurate.” He said. Sam breathed out and reached for his arm.

“Can you pull over?” She asked. 

“Yeah sure.” He pulled over almost immediately, a spot on the shoulder that would give them some privacy. He shut the truck off and turned in his seat to face her. “Okay, I’m listening intently.”

“My friend...not best friend, but childhood friend...did something...and I don’t know what to make of it now because he’s acting like nothing happened.” Sam explained, glancing out the window and biting her lip. 

“I’m sorry, honey. Maybe you shouldn’t be telling me this.” Bodhi’s brows knit and his tone was soft.

“I’m not fucking telling anyone else so you’re it.” Sam’s in contrast was harsh and he could see tears form in her eyes, even in the dark.

“Okay, okay. Keep going.” He coaxed, leaning toward her slightly. 

“I don’t even know what to call it. It’s so confusing. We were so drunk and his feelings just kind of came to a head. He made me feel bad for not wanting to...so I just let him...but I didn’t want to!” She began to cry and Bodhi reached for her, pulling her into a hug over the center console. 

“Honey, that's not a good friend. I know that much. A man should never force you to do anything like that, even if he says he has feelings for you or whatever. If you said no, he should’ve stopped.” He let go of her for a moment and raised the center console and she scooted closer to him. He caged her in, his strong, musky scent somewhat comforting to her.

“He didn’t...” She whined. Sobs wracked her body and Bodhi thought for a moment, what the hell did he get himself into?

“Did he hurt you?” He asked, wrapping his arms around her. He smoothed a hand over her hair gently.

“Physically, no...but my brain is all fucking confused now. I don’t...I don’t understand why he did that. If he loved me, why would he force me to?” She questioned, hoping maybe Bodhi had an answer to her inner turmoil. He did in fact, showing his age and worldly experience.

“Because he thought by making you do it that you’d love him back, which is a pretty fucked up way to think, but you’d be surprised how many men think that way.” He kissed the top of her head and she curled her legs up on the seat, trying to get closer to him.

“Do you think that way?” She asked, looking up at him. He wiped the tears from her cheeks and smiled.

“No, honey. I don’t. That’s why I got cheated on. I was too nice. Too vanilla.” He said, his grip loosening for a moment. Sam leaned up, their faces only inches away from each other. 

“That doesn’t sound so bad.” She murmured, her eyes glazing over. His tongue poked out to wet his lips and his thumb rubbed over her cheek. She closed the distance, pressing her lips to his fleetingly.

“I’m probably twice your age.” He purred. His thumb stilled as his gaze settled upon hers.

“So what?” She teased and he shook his head.

“This is a bad idea.” He said, drawing back a few inches. He saw how rosy her cheeks were and how pleading her eyes were then.

“Not If we both want it. You came on to me first. You had to expect something like this was going to happen if you played your cards right.” She noted, begging him for another kiss. 

“You’re not wrong about that. You’re a pretty girl. Figured I’d at least shoot my shot. Didn’t expect it to go this way.” He obliged, his breath quickening. It had been entirely too long that he;d been with a woman, let alone one so beautiful and young.

“I didn’t either, but now you know my secret.” Sam said seductively.

“So what's that supposed to mean?” Bodhi asked, the hand around her waist tightening. He felt her tense.

“Maybe just for tonight, we both get a little of what we want?” Sam suggested, willing herself to relax into his arms.

“And what is it that you want, honey? What do you need?” He asked, and Sam felt a rush of heat pool at her core. Never had a man asked what she needed so intimately.

“I just want a man to respect me for once.” She affirmed. She shifted, Bodhi slipping closer to the center, placing his legs on either side in the middle of the truck. She straddled his lap and placed her hands on his shoulders. 

“I’m being respectful now.” His lips met her collarbone and she let her head fall back. 

“You know what I mean...” She whined and his hands went for her hips, massaging the skin there through her dress. 

“You really wanna take this old guy for a spin?” He asked, letting his head dip between her breasts.

“I’m open to experimenting.” She’d stopped crying and the alcohol had given her back the courage she needed.

“Damn, girl. I’ll be gentle...I promise...and you ask me to stop...I’m out.” He sighed, raising the skirt of her dress. She unbuckled his belt. As she sank down on his length, Sam’s eyes fluttered closed and then when she opened them, she wasn’t in the truck with Bodhi...

She was in Jake’s room, and he was between her legs, his pretty green eyes staring up quizzically at her.

“You okay, honeybun? You didn’t even notice that I stopped goin’ down on you.” He mused, his smirk wide but his brows furrowed. Sam felt dizzy, like she was drunk, but she knew she hadn’t had any alcohol. She gazed down at Jake. At her fiance..

“Jake...yeah...I’m...okay...can you...please keep going. Sorry. Work just has me frazzled.” She said, propping herself up on her elbows. He crawled up on the bed, over the top of her, all muscle and sinew bound into one handsome package. His lips met hers and she felt his smirk. She did that. She made him smile like that.

“Well let me help with that. Where do you want me?” Jake purred, reaching one hand up and brushing his thumb over her cheek, then his hand steadied her at her chin, pressing a kiss full of desire and devotion to her lips.

“Inside...I want you inside me, Jake, please.” She moaned, smirking when his dog tags jingled and settled between her breasts. Jake pulled her hips taut to his, pressing inside of her with one smooth motion. His name fell from her lips, as he braced himself, grabbing the headboard. 

“Demanding. I like it. Relax for me, okay? Let me get’cha there.” Jake growled, burying his face in the crook of her neck, licking and sucking marks into the skin there. One of her hands trailed up his back to the back of his neck, threading into his short blond hair, nails scratching at his scalp. He groaned in ecstasy, his thrusts deep and slow. Her other hand gripped his bicep tight, steadying herself. Grounding herself. 

This is what she’d always wanted.

[x-necromantic-x]

(reblogging w/ my comments under op’s post to have it on one of my blogs)

hi!! this was my post that you're talking about! and wow haha i did not think it would strike this much of a nerve with some people, but it's always a good thing to see other people passionate about things i'm passionate about also.

a few things–

the post overall was meant to be lighthearted in nature, as someone who enjoys both the musical and the poem it wasn't really an us vs them thing. moreso a playful jab at people who made assumptions about the myth based off the musical (which, in my comments there were a lot of) and if you don't do that, the post doesn't apply to you!

in the pinned comment under the post i talk about how a conversation can definitely happen over the ethics of the situation, i'm all for interpretations of the story and enjoyed the people discussing the myth from the perspective of actually having read the myth or of being aware of it. whenever i corrected people in the comments, it was about things they got wrong about the material specifically, such as people saying circe used her magic to force him to bed or arguing about things a simple google search could tell you whether it did or didn't happen. If you interpret the text as being non-consensual, it was never the point of the post to say that your interpretation is incorrect! me personally though, i don't like the optics of circe being turned into a supporting/positive character if she was a rapist in the original.

I wasn't defending hamilton lmao!!! it was a joke!!! it was a bit!!!!

i also never said homer!odysseus was a horrible person! i very much don't think he is! to me, the point of the story is it's exploration of the human condition, and that even if he had faltered in his resolve to get home, that he still wouldn't have been a horrible person because any normal person in his shoes would have done similarly! i dunno where you got this bit but yk, js for the record.

your interpretation of book 10 in the odyssey is fine, if not a little lost on me. odysseus was certainly not initiative in the task of going home. of course, you can read and take away from it whatever you like, but– and i'm not trying to sound pretentious here– in my analysis class for the odyssey specifically we talked about how this section of the odyssey goes into the nature of human temptation when faced with luxury or an easier way out. Odysseus intentionally spends longer than he has to, a full year, and doesn't make the decision to leave until his crew bugs him and calls his delays “madness”. That doesn't read to me as them being like let's leave and he's like alr bet, it reads as odysseus finding reasons to remain on the island even after his crew is ready to go. you can find all of this in the text.

i never mentioned being fixated on the telegony either, all of my rebuttals have been centered around text and examples found in the odyssey itself. it wasn't really a gotcha moment with circe either, there's no debate that odysseus’ is one of history's great morally ambiguous figures in fiction, with or without her.

lastly, i think the odyssey is sooo romantic! a lot of your post seems to have misunderstood the point of mine fundamentally, and that's ok, i probably could have phrased it better! i think epic is romantic, i think the odyssey is romantic, the point i was trying to get at when seriously debating the storytelling of epic is that i think a lot of people miss the nuance that went into the storytelling of the odyssey in favor of a more sanitized, more easy to swallow protagonist. again, how i studied it, and how i believe the odyssey was meant to be read, is as a critical analysis of the human condition. Myths are reflective of the societies they come from, and i want people to be aware that the myths we read are a glimpse into what sorts of things people back then valued and strove for, how they're different from us, and how they're not. you mentioned having wished you’d studied the literature, and i think if you had, you would have come to a similar conclusion.

while i don’t think op misinterpreted my points intentionally in bad faith, calling me an asshole or saying i’m illiterate definitely made me raise an eyebrow. i tried my best to keep the conversations in my own comments respectful and productive, and hostility was definitely not the tone of my original shitpost. i think most people were able to talk about their perspectives and interpretations of the odyssey without going there. i’m attaching my pinned comments below for more context about the post itself

Some assholes on Instagram saying that Epic fans are "gaslighting" themselves about Odysseus being faithful to Penelope because of the Circe part and being pretentious about it and how we are stupid for considering The Odyssey romantic

Motherfucker

1. The Odyssey is an epic poem we all fucking know that? That it's a tragedy, technically comedy (comedy in ancient literature used to mean "happy ending", not funny stuff)

2. The Circe bit can be interpreted in different ways, as if it was fully consensual or not or just a transaction. There was still a difference in power dynamics, which was 100% mentioned by Calypso in the beginning, but if you choose to ignore that part if the same as saying some of Zeus' kids were ok to be conceived because the women agreeded to what A GOD wanted.

3. Obviously Epic!Odysseus is differente from Homer!Odysseus, but trying to say Homer! Odysseus is a horrible person that fully wanted to cheat on Penelope just because you want to defend ALEXANDER HAMILTON, i have bad news about you.

4. "The crew had to beg to go back!" I read the Odyssey too. As a child and a few days ago. They stayed on Circe's island to rest so Odysseus job as a captain was literally wait until his crew told him they were ready to leave, specially after what they have lived. Odysseus didnt force anyone to stay in that island, when the crew went "oh, sir, we miss our families, please lets go back now, yes?" Odysseus immediately said "ok". It literally felt like a father waiting for the kids to stop playing in the playground.

5. Homer!Odysseus is not perfect, at all (man killed his disloyal maids because he didnt want to deal with shit anymore, even if they also were coerced/raped by the suitors), but come with a better gotcha than Circe. You are just fixiated on the Telegony and it shows.

6. Idk what to tell you, but if you think renouncing a life with two inmortal godesses (one of whom offered you immortality), traveling for 10 years defying a God's rage, killing 108 men who wanted to marry your wife (and ruined your house), almost killed yourself when said wife rejected you only for her to go "haha i was just testing you, silly :)", have your literally marriage have a word created for you two specifically is not romantic... Idk go read Bridgerton

[crow2222]

omg how was the show?? :D

Absolutely awesome. Shame I only saw it once since I can't see it on the 7th 😓 Guess I'll have to cherish that one time forever!

This ask is the perfect excuse for me to talk about the show 😈 Thank you

Now, time for the little things during the show that I made myself remember (and might've actually forgotten some) Spoilers for the musical below, I guess?

-The notebook being thrown into the water at the start, I. did not know there was water there.

-The lights turning off during fights in general was just spectacular to see, the noise of it shutting off as it did made it all the better.

-Darrel going to Ponyboy first after he's jumped & the rumble. Same as the book but sweet non the less.

-Soda always trying to get Darrel away whenever he's about to argue with Pony.

-Two-bit got a hubcap from the Socs, knew this but still funny to see.

-Ace saying "Yeah I like girls" after Soda says "You'd know huh Ace?" or something along those lines in GGAH. I was shaking when I heard that

-Soda didn't catch the hair grease when it was thrown at him, had another one in his back pocket 😭

-Ponyboy mentioning Sodapop saying Sandy's name in his sleep sometimes, awkward conversation to have..

-Johnny just plopping right into the tire when Dallas came to check on him as his parents fought, and then swatting him away when Dallas tried to go in his house, and the silence that came after. Ouch.

-Loved the dances during Friday at the drive in!

-PONY TRYING TO LOOK COOL BEFORE SITTING NEXT TO CHERRY IN THE DRIVE IN, I wasn't looking at them when they were hyping each other to get up at the start, only caught the last glimpse but then Pony popped up his collar, Johnny copying 😭 and then smoothing down his hair and sitting "all cool" cracked me up. Little losers

-Bob yelling(? forgot) at Cherry to get in the car 😬 Love her for standing her ground but Golly

-I was singing along to Runs in the Family Reprise in my head the entire time, also pretty sure someone gasped behind me when Ponyboy gets slapped

-Vocals in Great expectations, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

-Socs literally lifting Ponyboy upside down to dunk him in the water?? Jesus

-Darrels no snitch

-No one laughing when Johnny wipes the blood on the switch off on his jeans, I felt like that was laugh worthy..

-Two-bit gettin jumped ☹️

-Loved the stage lighting for the sunrise!!!??

-Okay I knew that Dallas would say Pony looked like Burt Lancaster as well but the entire theatre laughing got me to laugh too

-The shadows of them helping the kids during Hoods Turned Heroes- I did not know that'd happen at all!

-The rumble sequence. Definitely matches up to the hype I've heard about it

-Darrel absolutely in awe while reading the newspaper about them being heroes..

-The Socs passing around a flask, holding it up to the sky before taking a gulp and pouring the rest into the fountain for Bob..

-THE ENTIRE GANG being there when Johnny dies?? I DID know this but damn. Still hurt.

-Pony thinking Dallas was just going to get on the train to run away again.. 🙁

-Darrel putting baloney in the food.. yikes! Yeah he didn't know, still. Damn the small details.

-Cherry volunteering at the hospital, that's how she got Johnny's stuff. I knew she was one to bring it but didn't think about it too hard, but if I did I'd probably be confused as hell

-Ponyboy dropping the letter to smell Johnny’s clothes just. Ripped me apart, because I carry sm memories to smells myself (autism be damned?)

-Darrel SOBBING when Ponyboy came to the table to eat at the very end. I did not expect that at all and felt myself tear up a bit (I didn't cry at all before that). He turned right to my section when he was trying to hide his sobs so I got a clear view of him trying to bottle it back up :(

-Loved the Gold lighting at the very end. Beautiful show overall!! Shame I can't see it again 💔

[violetflowers55]

Hot & Cold - Chapter 1

(Dr. Phosphorus x fem!reader)

Synopsis: Since there’s not enough alien criminals, you got stuck in the monster section of Belle Reve. And of course Waller put you on Task Force M. To make matters even worse, the guy who landed you in prison in the first place is right there, never leaving you alone. But maybe, he can compensate you in more way than one…

No content warnings needed for this chapter (that I can think of). No Y/N usage

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Being imprisoned sucked. Being imprisoned in Belle Reve sucked more. Being imprisoned in the monster section sucked the most.

You’d had a good five years to figure out how to, well, not thrive, but do a bit more than just survive. Fight when someone else instigates - not enough to get you thrown into isolation, but enough to scare off everyone else for awhile. Don’t piss of the guards, but also don’t be a suck up, they hate that even more. Don’t make friends because they’ll either die, get transferred, or turn on you. There was only one thing you hadn’t figured out yet. Well, two if you count figuring out how to escape. When Waller pulled you for a super secret special mission, your first thought was that maybe you could figure out at least one of your two remaining problems.

The sun bore down on the six of you as Waller and Flag carted you into a military ship. The feeling of its warmth was one you hadn’t felt in a long time, and it was gone too soon. As you got wedged between two other freaks, you finally looked to see who else was pulled for the super special top secret mission. On you left was Weasel, some freaky rodent you didn’t really know. On the other side was The Bride; you’d never met her before but you figured she was The Bride since she looked like she would be Frankenstein’s bride. Across from her was a robot and across from Weasel was some fish girl. The only person you knew was sitting right across from you. As much as you tried not to, his green glowing skeleton was hard not to look at, and the two of you locked eyes. Or, at least, it felt like you did.

“Wow. After all these years, and we’re finally reunited on a mission to save a princess. Who would’ve thought?” Dr. Phosphorus said, in a tone that you knew meant he was grinning. You scoffed. “I would’ve thought we’d be reunited by you breaking me out of that hellhole.”

“You two… know each other?” the fish girl asked.

“No.” you said firmly, hoping to put an end to the conversation.

Truthfully, you had met before, back in Gotham. You ran into each other while trying to rob the same bank. He threatened to burn your “pretty little face” off, you threatened to break all his bones and leave him an immovable fire. Not exactly love at first sight.

“She just doesn’t want to admit she’s totally in love with me,” he whispered to the girl.

“Don’t think my threat to break your bony ass doesn’t still stand.” Despite your threat, you could still feel him grinning at you. You couldn’t tell if it was his gaze or his literal flames that were heating you up.

When you finally arrived at the castle, breaking free from being squished up against your fellow monsters felt almost as good as being let out of isolation. The castle looming in front of you was shockingly beautiful. You silently cursed yourself for not trying to take it over while you were free.

As the seven of you were escorted inside, Phosphorus slowly drifted over to walk next to you. It took every fiber of your being not to look at him. But being so close to him, you had to admit his warmth felt nice.

Then at dinner, he of course was quick to make sure he sat next to you. When you and the Bride rolled your eyes and his obviousness, he tried to casually explain it away by saying “Us Gotham guys gotta stick together, right?”, but his nervous chuckle gave him away. Soon enough, dinner was served, distracting everyone. It’d been far too long since you’d had real, good food, and just like the others, you scarfed it down. When you finally paused and looked up, you noticed the princess staring at you.

“Forgive me, I do not mean to stare. I was just… I mean no offense, but I thought America had forbidden human criminals from missions such as this one?” Princess Illana asked.

The table went silent, except for Weasel’s aggressive eating noises.

You tried to smile. “I know I look like one, but I’m not human.” It was hard to hold her gaze; you just didn’t have it in you to explain further. She muttered a simple “Oh”, and the previous chatter and eating resumed shortly. Except for you, your appetite was gone.

“You ok?” Phosphorus whispered, noticing you pushing your food around with your fork.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You still couldn’t look at him, but this time it wasn’t because you didn’t want to.

“I know you’re fine,” he teased.

“Shut it,” you snapped before he could ask if you were ok again.

For most of your life, no one knew you weren’t human. You were great at hiding your powers. The only reason the whole world knew you were an alien was because your stupid defense attorney thought that being an alien somehow made you exempt from the law and used it at trial. As you sat there, all you could hear was the gasps of the courtroom when he revealed your secret, and all you could feel was rage spreading throughout your body. Then you remembered how pitifully he cried when you killed him, and that calmed you down enough.

After dinner, everyone poured out into the courtyard, and you reveled in the bright warm sun. The feeling of its heat on your skin was practically euphoric. You laid down on the soft grass, shamelessly sunbathing.

“Trying to get a tan on?”

Opening one eye, you saw Phosphorus standing over you.

Ugh, why can’t he just leave me alone?

“You’re blocking my sunlight.”

Carefully, he laid down next to you, his fingertips dangerously close to yours.

“I get it, you wanna have something to show off to the loser inmates who didn’t get picked when we get back.”

You groaned. “You know nothing.”

“Mmm, maybe. But I want to know everything,” the teasing tone in his voice was gone, replaced with a low, almost seductive tone.

You thanked God you could blame your blushing cheeks on the sun.

“Oh, can it, skelly.”

He chuckled, but let it drop. The two of you laid there together in silence until the sun started to go down. At least your bedroom was sure to be warmer than your prison cell.

[heatherfield]

Good news: I've been on a roll with gif-making.

Bad news: Not so much with writing. :(

Good news: I wrote over 1000 words today so hopefully I can do that every day this week (and beyond), and hopefully I can post the next chapter tomorrow. *crossing all my fingies*

[luv-beam]

HI TARA!!! my thoughts while reading are under the cut :'))) but i gotta say that i fall in love w ur writing every time i read something from u:

• i would like to start off w the fact that u set the scene so incredibly well, like im in awe and envy at this beautiful scene ur painting for us 😭 not to mention that it all flows really well too; just a strong opening paragraph

• awwwh PLS THE BIG BROTHER LITTLE SISTER DYNAMIC!!! when the little sis thinks the absolute world of her big bro :'))) and when she's even more mad than he is LMAO the TOAD LINE??? damn seokmin i was not aware of ur game

• lowkey i would have folded that fast too if duke lee seokmin of lancaster played along and kissed my hand

• this starting line ^ crazy good... like i'd like to sear this into my mind so i never forget it?? the social szn unfolds like a delicate fan??? adding another layer to the tapestry of ur life??? lee seokmin????

• HE HAS AN UNCANNY ABILITY TO ELEVATE THE ORDINARY UGHHHHH WHAAAAT A LINE i love that so, so much and it's so true as well

• awwwh yn and seokhao's goodbyes are so sweet :'')))) im so glad they all hold so much affection for one another

• "your penchant for wool is far more than my eyes could bear" im cryingksnfkdnjf seokmin sulking over the wool while he's away,, sometimes i like to imagine him as a damsel draping himself out of the window sill of a tower

• i love how yn describes herself feeling empty while hes away like heh... i know something u dont... heh :))))) and crocheting? me too!!! so cute that she made him smth

• TARA U R A MASTER AT IMAGERY!! the opening lines of age 15 are mwah chefs kiss like if i could draw/paint, i would literally turn this fic into a graphic novel for u

• tulip... brb while i burst into tears

• started grinning like an idiot while reading this ^ i can see his playful melodrama and the smile on his face,,, im so down bad like i would fold like a lawn chair if we played around like this irl (i say as a grown ass woman)

• oh how i do love the classic brushing of the limbs that gets the mcs blushing like hell... also love what u did there w the planting seeds in ur mind to decode later while they're literally planting flowers... i see u tara u genius

• oh wow the total 180 w the reveal of the duke's death (also seokmin addressing her as my dearest tulip TT) — thinking of seokmin entering the social szn as a recently-made duke and all the girls hounding after him in his fresh grief......

• this section (seok and hao just got back after the death reveal) is short but so bittersweet. like when u give seok the swords from the flower bed and he just kind of chuckles like yes... days gone by huh... UGH

• it breaks my heart to know that seokhao now have their dead fathers as something in common 😭😭😭 its sweet tho to know they're all looking out for each other. im w yn tho, i hope hers and haos relationship isnt negatively affected by this :'))

• THE RETURN OF THE TAPESTRY METAPHOR

• okay i have to confess something... this is my second time reading thru... and so im reading the part where minghao and yn talk in the garden and he's warning her of the whispers springing up abt her and seok and im like... freaking out bc i KNOW WHAT HAPPENS 😭 IM GNAWING MY FIST LIKE IK THAT HAO'D CONCERN IS SINCERE AND IM JUST SJFNKENFKFJF THIS SCENE HOLDS SO MUCH MORE WEIGHT DURING A REREAD (why i love comparing my thoughts btwn a first and second read tho, like u see things /differently/)

• i love the teasing and sweet assurances in the letters 😭 like they're so genuine and cute (rip minghao)

• AHHHHH THE SMOKING SCENE FROM SZN ONEEEE i like this change of dynamic tho instead of being btwn siblings, it's now btwn two love interests friends

• WE CANT ALWAYS HAVE WHAT OUR HEARTS DESIRE???? WHILE LOOKING AT US LIKE THAT LEE SEOKMIN????????? HHEHDJDJFJFJKFKFK

• sure sure fencing BUT YEARNING TO FIND LOVE?? BUT MY DEAR SIR?? YOUR GRACE, YOUR LOVE IS RIGHT NEXT TO U

• THE LONGING AND ASPECT OF THE FORBIDDEN MAKES THE SMALL DISTANCE BTWN U YAWN LIKE A CHASM AHHHH THIS PASSAGE!!!! like oof... i love angst and yearning like this, where im screaming at my phone screen to just kiss her already (knowing the... perilous journey ahead... heh...)

• friend.... FRIEND???? brb gonna go waltz into oncoming traffic

• oh the way this ends 😭😭😭 like my heart is being squeezed,,, the way he whispers tulip and the roots of ur love for him take hold UGGGHH!!! I CANT DO THIS

i will have to endure for another day tho and i will return for chapter two tmrw! i loved this even more than the first time i read it (and i loved it a lot then too)!! i was really able to sit w ur words this time, and i do have to say tara that u have such a talent for imagery, like omg this was so beautiful TT but thank u for writing this!! hope ur having a lovely day/night and i'll be back o7 💖

The Somerset Affair | Chapter 1: Whispers in the Garden

pairing: lsk x fem!reader genre: Bridgerton AU, friends to (?????) to eventual lovers, brother’s best friend, SLOWWWW BURNNN chapter wc: 8.2k warnings: alcohol consumption, societal expectations, eventual smut, more to be added a/n: CHAPTER 1 IS FINALLY HEREEEE // as always, ENORMOUS thanks to indi @wongyuseokie for this GORGEOUSSSS banner // and to my lovely betas shu @welcometomyoasis lou @tusswrites haneul @chanranghaeys this could not have happened without you // 2nd chapter will be up soon!!!

summary: lee seokmin is a scoundrel for having beaten your brother at fencing. or... is he?

comment to be tagged when chapters are posted, or join the fic taglist here!

Age 8

Mayfair is alive today. The Somerset estate hums with energy, a ripple of excitement passing through the gathered crowd, their eyes all fixed on the fencing match taking place in the wide, manicured garden. The afternoon sun casts a golden haze over the scene, warming the air and wrapping everything in a soft, honeyed glow. Laughter and chatter float like music across the grounds, underscored by the occasional ring of steel clashing against steel. The sweet fragrance of roses drifts on the light breeze, mingling with the fresh scent of cut grass. You sit near the front, your small hands gripping the edge of your chair, bouncing with excitement as you watch your older brother, Minghao, spar against a boy you've never seen before.

This new boy stands tall, his dark hair tousled in the breeze, and a sharp determination shines in his eyes. The way he moves—it’s confident, with an energy that seems far beyond his years. Your brother, usually so self-assured, falters as the boy steps onto the mat. A flicker of unease passes through you, twisting in your stomach. You can feel the tension, see it in the way Minghao adjusts his grip on his sword. The match begins, and every time the swords collide, the sound reverberates through your chest. Your heart sinks a little more with each point your brother loses, and soon, the inevitable happens—the newcomer disarms Minghao with a flourish so smooth it draws gasps and murmurs from the audience.

"Such skill!" someone whispers, while others erupt in applause, their cheers filling the air. But you remain still, arms crossed tightly over your chest, brows drawn into a deep frown. How dare this boy defeat your brother? And so effortlessly! You want to scowl, to hold on to your anger, but the sound of the crowd’s cheers washes over you, making your resentment grow.

Seokmin—that’s his name, you overhear—steps forward, offering Minghao a hand, his smile wide and bright like the afternoon sun. "A splendid match, my lord," he says, his voice rich and full of youthful pride. "I must confess, I didn’t expect to come away unscathed!"

You narrow your eyes, watching as your brother, ever gracious, accepts the handshake. There's a mixture of admiration and annoyance in his expression, a good-natured acknowledgment of defeat. They exchange lighthearted jests, their laughter mixing with the lingering applause. But you? You're fuming. This boy, with his easy smile and seemingly endless charm, had just bested your brother, and you feel a burning need to dislike him for it.

Then, as if sensing your discontent, Seokmin turns to you, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Ah, you must be Lord Minghao’s sister?” he says, his grin widening into something playful, teasing. “Goodness, you make him look like a toad by comparison!”

Your mouth drops open in shock, a wave of indignation rushing through you. How dare he say such a thing? And worse—how could your brother laugh?  "I beg your pardon?" you snap, standing as tall as your small frame will allow, arms crossing even tighter across your chest.

"Oh, I mean no offense, miss," Seokmin chuckles, clapping Minghao on the shoulder. "I jest, of course! Merely saying that you’re far lovelier than your brother—though, admittedly, it’s not a particularly high bar."

Despite yourself, your scowl begins to soften. There’s something about the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, the lightness in his voice. It’s hard to stay angry when he looks at you like that, as if daring you to join in on the joke.

“Mama says men who try to charm without revealing their titles aren’t to be trusted,” you counter, lifting your chin with defiant pride. The quip comes out sharper than intended, but you’re determined not to let him get the better of you.

Minghao gasps, hands raised in mock horror. “Sister, truly, must you always speak so boldly?” He turns to Seokmin with an exaggerated sigh. “Please Seokmin, do forgive her. I assure you, turning eight has done little to improve her temperament.”

“You’re only two years older than me, brother!” you huff, your voice a touch more indignant. Before you can continue, though, Seokmin drops into a low, dramatic bow, the movement exaggerated and theatrical.

“The fault is entirely mine, my lady,” he says in mock seriousness, rising and extending his hand toward you. “Lord Lee Seokmin, future Duke of Lancaster. At your service.”

Two years of etiquette lessons flood your mind, and with a sudden burst of excitement, you place your small hand in his. Seokmin bows once more, this time dropping a playful kiss on your knuckles as you curtsy. You can hear Minghao’s exasperated sigh as he rolls his eyes, but you ignore him, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Maybe Seokmin isn't such a scoundrel after all.

As the day wears on, you find yourself watching Seokmin from the corner of your eye. Despite your earlier indignation, there’s something undeniably captivating about him. You notice the way he treats everyone with kindness, far beyond what’s expected from someone his age. When a younger child stumbles near the fencing ring, it’s Seokmin who rushes to their side, kneeling in the dirt, his voice gentle as he asks, "Are you alright?" He helps the child up, brushing off their clothes with such care, you can’t help but be touched. "Fear not," he says, a smile returning to his face, "you’re not a toad—you’re a knight in training!"

The sight makes your heart soften further. How could someone so infuriating also be so kind? The lines of irritation you had drawn between you and Seokmin begin to blur, shifting into something more like curiosity.

As the sun sinks low, casting a warm amber glow over the estate, you find yourself gravitating closer to where Seokmin and Minghao stand, their voices rising and falling in animated conversation about fencing techniques. Seokmin’s laughter, bright and carefree, fills the air like music, and before you know it, you’re smiling too; there’s something undeniably magnetic about him.

Despite your best efforts, you can no longer deny the strange fluttering in your chest—a curiosity, perhaps even fascination, that you hadn’t expected. Maybe, just maybe, Seokmin isn’t such a scoundrel after all.

The days of the social season unfold like a delicate fan, each gathering adding another layer to the tapestry of your life, and with every event, Seokmin becomes a constant presence. He is no longer just an occasional guest—he’s a breath of fresh air, his laughter ringing through the halls of your family’s estate, turning even the dullest moments into something lively and bright.

The lively soirées your parents host become a stage for his effortless charm. Ladies in the latest fashions exchange flirtatious glances in his direction, while gentlemen engage in animated debates about politics and sport, the buzz of conversation always punctuated by Seokmin’s easy laughter. His presence transforms these gatherings, turning what once felt like routine social maneuvering into vibrant affairs filled with warmth and genuine joy.

Whether he’s lending a hand to your mother in the garden, his sleeves rolled up and face relaxed in concentration, or sparring with your brother in a friendly match, Seokmin has this uncanny ability to elevate the ordinary. What might be a simple afternoon stroll or an idle conversation becomes a moment of significance when he’s around. Sun-drenched afternoons spent wandering the estate take on a new glow, each moment painted with the sound of his voice, the infectious energy he brings.

Age 14

The day Minghao and Seokmin leave for Eton is etched in your mind with vivid clarity, every detail sharp and impossible to forget. The morning is cool, yet the sun spills across the courtyard in golden rays, casting long shadows from the trees that sway gently in the breeze. The scent of dew-laden grass mixes with the faint perfume of your mother’s rose garden, but even the beauty of the estate feels muted by the melancholy lingering in the air.

Minghao, ever composed, stands with the straight posture expected of him, his hands clasped behind his back, looking every inch the young man ready to step into his responsibilities. His face, though calm, carries the weight of leaving home, but he hides it well, his eyes betraying only a flicker of the emotions swirling beneath the surface.

Seokmin, on the other hand, struggles more visibly with the impending farewell. His usual cheerful grin falters, the lightness of his presence dimmed as he glances between you and Minghao. He tries to keep up his usual charm, cracking jokes that feel just a little too forced, his laughter not ringing as true as it normally does. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, a softness you haven’t seen before, as if he’s trying to hide his own sadness behind that well-worn mask of joviality.

As they load their trunks into the carriage, a heavy knot forms in your chest. You know you’ll miss your brother, but it’s Seokmin’s departure that stings deeper. He’s been more than a friend these past years—he’s been a constant, a steady warmth you’ve come to rely on. His laughter, his easy charm, the way he could turn even the most mundane day into something special. The thought of him being gone, of not seeing him wander the estate with his boundless energy, makes your heart ache in a way you didn’t anticipate.

You step forward, your fingers trembling as you reach for Seokmin’s hand, your grip tighter than intended. “Promise me you’ll write?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper, each word trembling with the effort to hold back tears.

Seokmin’s eyes soften as he looks down at you, his usual grin giving way to something gentler. "Of course," he says, his voice steady but quieter than usual. He squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture meant to comfort. “I’ll make sure you get the best letters—no boring stories, only adventures, I swear.” His grin returns, albeit a little weaker. "Besides, my lady, your brother and I will be back to torment you again come springtime!"

Minghao coughs politely. “No tearful goodbye for me, sister?”  he asks, his voice teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of affection in his words. His eyes flicker between you and Seokmin, amusement tugging at the corners of his lips, though his posture remains upright and composed as ever.

You tear your gaze from Seokmin and offer your brother a watery smile. “Do not fret, dear brother,” you say, a bit of your usual wit returning. “I’ll save the tears for later, when the house is quiet without the two of you causing chaos.”

My Dearest Y/N,

I trust this letter finds you in fine spirits, though I daresay it is far more likely that you are wrapped in the cozy embrace of your favorite blanket, lost in a book, while the world outside continues on its merry way. I cannot help but smile at the thought, for you have always possessed the rare gift of finding joy in the mundane. 

Eton is quite a spectacle, I must confess. The architecture is enough to make one feel as though they have stepped into a storybook. However, I must admit my fellow classmates lack the charm and wit of my beloved friend.

Oh, how I miss our little chats! It is a curious sensation to feel so far from home, yet I am bolstered by the knowledge that you are there, keeping our little world intact. Do tell me that you have not yet taken up knitting—your penchant for wool is far more than my eyes can bear. 

Yours most fondly,Seokmin

My Dearest Seokmin,

Eton sounds positively enchanting.I must admit, the thought of you amidst all that grandeur brings me no small measure of joy—though I do hope you have not yet been swept away by the grandeur of it all! I find it impossible to imagine anyone there being quite as dashing as you.

Life here, as you suspected, is a touch quieter without your vivacious presence. I feel compelled to admit that I found myself rather melancholic the day you left. It was a curious sadness, one that clung to me like a shadow. The house feels a touch emptier, and while I do find solace in my books, nothing compares to the ease of our conversations. The warmth of your laughter is a melody I find myself longing for, especially on the coldest evenings.

Do keep writing, dear friend. Your tales from Eton are the very lifeblood of my days, and I shall regale you with the ongoing drama of our little realm. Until then, consider me your most devoted fan, ever eager for your next missive.

With all my affection,Y/N

P.S. You will take great pleasure in knowing that I have, in fact, taken up crocheting. A lovely cap, perfect for early springtime chill, awaits you at the estate. 

Age 15:

Seokmin’s return each spring is as reliable as the first crocus peeking through the thawing earth, marking the true end of winter. His arrival is never just an event—it’s a burst of life that sweeps away the dullness left by the cold months. Every year, your excitement bubbles over as you anticipate that familiar moment when the world feels a little brighter with his return. The sunlight bathes the garden in warmth, a golden hue spreading like liquid over the well-trodden path he walks down, Minghao beside him. Their laughter floats through the air, a melody that harmonizes with the soft rustle of blooming flowers and the hum of spring.

When they finally come into view, your heart quickens, as if drawn into the rhythm of their steps. With Minghao’s ever-amiable grin and Seokmin’s radiant energy, they are a pair that seems to make the world tilt just a little toward joy. Every spring, it's the same—they stride toward you as if no time has passed, as if the long months apart were nothing but a brief blink in the grander scheme of your lives. And each time, the three of you fall into the same routines as though nothing has changed.

It usually begins with some mischief. They never fail to poke fun at you until you’re red-faced with exasperation. Seokmin, with that teasing glint in his eyes, will say something absurd or playfully condescending, and Minghao, ever the instigator, will back him up with a sly smirk. It’s only a matter of time before you lose your patience, yell, and stomp your foot, your protests ringing louder than you’d intended.

Your raised voice inevitably draws the attention of your mother, who reprimands you from the kitchen window with her usual fond disapproval. "Now, now," she’ll chide, a soft laugh hidden in her voice. "There’s no need to shout, dear. They’re only playing."

Of course, that’s the cue for Seokmin and Minghao to burst into laughter, doubling over in amusement at how easily they’ve ruffled your feathers. You scowl at them, but it’s hard to keep a frown on your face when they’re both so gleeful, their joy infectious, lighting up the entire garden.

One afternoon, not long after their return, Seokmin and Minghao find their old practice fencing swords—long forgotten and buried deep in the flowerbeds, peeking out from beneath the tulips. You watch as they unearth the swords with a mixture of surprise and amusement, both of them laughing as if uncovering a treasure trove of memories. Their faces are bright with nostalgia as they pull the dirt-encrusted weapons free, brushing off the petals clinging to the blades.

It's then that Seokmin starts to call you "Tulip," a private little nickname he utters only when it's just the two of you. The first time he says it, there’s a lightness to his tone, his lips curling into that mischievous smile of his. “You know,” he says, leaning in closer as you both watch Minghao attempt a ridiculous fencing stance in the distance, “it only makes sense. After all, you’ve been hiding our swords with the tulips. I think ‘Tulip’ suits you.”

At first, you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance, but there’s a warmth in your chest at how easily he’s assigned you such a tender nickname. 

One particularly warm afternoon, your mother summons you to help her with the flowerbeds, a chore you reluctantly take on. The sun beats down, the heat pressing into your skin and the earth beneath your fingers, while the scent of soil and fresh blossoms hangs thick in the air. You sigh, resigning yourself to the tedious task when, suddenly, a familiar voice cuts through the stillness.

“Ah, the fair lady in her noble endeavor!” Seokmin’s voice rings out, full of his usual playful grandeur. He strides through the garden gate, sweeping an imaginary cape behind him with exaggerated flair. His smile is as bright as the sun itself, lighting up the whole space. “Fear not, for I shall be your loyal squire in this quest for botanical beauty!”

Despite your earlier annoyance, a reluctant smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. Seokmin has a way of making even the most mundane tasks feel like an adventure. You watch as he bounds toward you, his movements light and full of energy. With an exaggerated show of determination, he rolls up his sleeves, pretending to prepare for battle. The weight of the day feels lighter already.

Together, the two of you dig your hands into the soil, your fingers dirty and the air filled with the soft rustling of the leaves around you. Laughter bubbles up between the two of you, mingling with the breeze as Seokmin’s animated voice brings life to the still afternoon. As you plant flower after flower, he regales you with tales of his fencing matches at Eton, his voice lively, arms waving dramatically to mimic the grand duels he’s fought.

“You wouldn’t believe it,” he says with mock gravity, “this boy was at least twice my size, and I won the match with nothing but clever footwork and a flick of the wrist!” He pantomimes the move, his arm cutting through the air like a sword.

You laugh, shaking your head at his theatrical retelling, the tension of the task dissolving with every story. It’s impossible not to get caught up in his enthusiasm. “Is that so?” you tease, barely holding back a grin.

“I daresay, footwork in fencing is quite the advantageous skill,” Seokmin says, dropping to his knees beside you with faux-seriousness, inspecting the flowerbed as though it holds the secrets to the universe. “If one can move with the grace of a dancer, one can—”

Just as he gestures again, his elbow brushes against your arm, and suddenly, time seems to slow. The lighthearted atmosphere is pierced by a spark, a ripple of warmth that travels through you. Both of you freeze, his eyes widening in surprise. His cheeks flush a light pink as he quickly pulls back, his confidence faltering for a brief second.

“My sincerest apologies,” he stammers, the usual brightness in his voice now tinged with uncharacteristic bashfulness. He resumes his work, his fingers trembling slightly as they sift through the soil. The warmth of the sun suddenly pales in comparison to the heat between you.

“It’s quite all right,” you reply, your voice shaky, your heartbeat far more rapid than you’d like. “Just... gardening, after all.” You try for casualness, but the words sound ridiculous even to your own ears, given the charged air lingering between you.

Moments later, you stand to stretch, hoping to shake off the strange energy that has settled over the both of you. Seokmin leans in to grab a nearby tool, and his shoulder brushes against yours again—this time, the contact lingers for just a second too long. The heat of it sends another jolt through you, making your heart stutter.

You gasp, startled by the unfamiliar sensation, your breath hitching. The warmth spreads from your chest down to your fingertips, a strange, foreign feeling you can’t quite name.

“Goodness! I beg your pardon again,” Seokmin says quickly, his sheepish smile returning, though this time it’s softer, more hesitant. His eyes flicker with something you can’t quite place. “It seems I have a propensity for unintentional collisions today.”

That smile—it makes your chest tighten. His presence, usually a source of comfort, now awakens something new within you, something unsettling yet undeniable. Gardening, once nothing but a mundane chore, has transformed into something far more intimate with Seokmin by your side. The flowerbeds seem to flourish under his laughter, vibrant blooms swaying as if they, too, revel in the joy of the moment.

But that foreign sensation? You tuck it deep into your mind, burying it along with the seeds you’ve planted, afraid to decode what it could mean. After all, this is Seokmin—your friend, your constant. And yet, the warmth of his touch lingers on your skin longer than it should, as if it’s quietly asking you to look closer.

My Dearest Seokmin,

I hope this letter finds you in moments of solace amidst the tumult of your recent loss. It is with a heavy heart that I pen these words, having heard of your father’s passing. The news struck me with such a weight, as though the very air around me had grown thick with sorrow. I cannot begin to fathom the grief you must be experiencing, yet please know that my thoughts and prayers are ever with you during this difficult time.

Your father was a remarkable man, a beacon of kindness and integrity, and his absence will undoubtedly leave a profound void in the hearts of all who had the privilege of knowing him. I remember fondly the stories you shared, of his wisdom and warmth, which have clearly shaped the exceptional person you have become. His legacy, I have no doubt, will endure through you.

With his passing, I know you now bear the title of Duke. While this new responsibility may feel daunting, I have every confidence you will honor his legacy with the same grace and strength he embodied. I want you to remember that you are not alone. I am here, dear friend, steadfast and unwavering, ready to support you as you navigate this uncharted territory.

I eagerly await the day when I can see your smile again, and we can talk about the flowers in the garden, just as we always have.

With all my love and deepest sympathies,Y/N

My Dearest Tulip,

Your letter brought me a flicker of light amidst the shadows that have enveloped me since my father’s passing. It is a solace to know that you, too, share in my grief, and your words resonate deeply within me, reminding me that I am not alone in this turbulent sea of sorrow.

Thank you for your kind remembrance of my father. He often spoke of you with such fondness, and knowing how he impacted your life brings me a measure of comfort. His lessons of kindness and integrity remain etched in my heart, and I strive to honor his legacy in every decision I make as Duke. It is a weight I carry with both pride and trepidation, yet the knowledge of your unwavering support gives me strength.

Though this season feels uncharted and daunting, your friendship is a cherished constant. I, too, long for the day when we can stroll through the gardens, exchanging thoughts about the flowers and sharing laughter, just as we once did. Until then, I will hold onto the warmth of your words and the memories we’ve created.

With heartfelt gratitude and affection,Seokmin

Age 16: 

When Seokmin and Minghao return home the next spring, it’s clear that Seokmin carries more than just the usual joy and liveliness he always brings with him. A new weight settles over him, one you haven’t seen before. The responsibility of the Dukedom starts to bear down on him, heavy as the cloak he will one day wear. His laugh remains bright, his smile still warm, but there’s something different now—an unspoken awareness that the carefree boy of the past is slowly giving way to the man he is becoming.

He has grown taller, his limbs long and strong, and the way he carries himself now commands attention. The once-boyish face is now defined, the angle of his jaw sharper, while his arms, corded with muscles, show the signs of hard work and training. It’s as if each inch he’s gained has come with a newfound strength, and when he meets your gaze, his eyes hold a certain seriousness, as if he is seeing everything with a fresh perspective.

The easy rhythm of your old routines stays intact—Minghao teasing you until you yell, Seokmin’s booming laughter echoing across the fields, and the reprimands from your mother when your playful shouts interrupt her afternoon peace. It all feels the same, yet beneath it all, you know things are changing.

On one such afternoon, you discover their practice swords—once lost and forgotten—buried haphazardly in the flowerbed among your mother’s beloved tulips. You pull them free with a gasp, the soil still clinging to the metal, and when you bring them to Seokmin, he chuckles, the sound a little sadder than you remember.

“Well,” he says, wiping the dirt from the hilt, “seems like even the tulips want to keep us from growing up too fast, eh, Tulip?”

Despite the weight of responsibility that now shadows him, he still calls you “Tulip.” The name slips easily from his lips, playful and tender, a thread that ties your past to the present. The quiet nickname carries the bittersweet truth: your days of carefree adventures and playful banter are slowly fading, giving way to the responsibilities of adulthood. And while the world around you shifts, that name—whispered in secret—feels like a promise that some part of him, some part of both of you, will always stay the same.

My dearest Tulip, 

It is with a heart full of sorrow that I write to you, upon receiving the most distressing news regarding your father’s passing. The world seems dimmer without him, and my thoughts are consumed with the weight of your grief. I wish I could be there, to hold your hand and share in the memories of a man who undoubtedly brought so much light into your life.

When the silence envelops you, when the days stretch long and heavy with unshed tears, know that I am here for you. You need not wear a mask of strength; I shall not expect it. Life has a way of changing in an instant, and though we are thrust into roles we may not be prepared for, there remains solace in companionship.

Please remember, my dear friend, you are not alone in this journey. I stand with you, ready to lend my support and share in whatever you need.

With the utmost affection,Seokmin

My dearest Seokmin, 

Your letter reached me at a time when silence has settled heavily over the estate, wrapping around us like a shroud. It feels as though the laughter that once danced through these halls has been swallowed by a void, leaving behind a hushed emptiness. My mother, once so vibrant, now moves about with an air of resignation, her spirit dimmed as if she carries the weight of the world upon her shoulders. The joy that once bloomed within her seems to have withered, and even the flowers in the garden appear to droop, their colors muted in sympathy for our grief.

I often find myself worrying for Minghao. The new title of duke weighs upon him like a heavy cloak, and I fear that the responsibilities thrust upon him will change him in ways I cannot yet understand. I can only imagine the burden he feels, trying to uphold our father's legacy while grappling with the uncertainties of leadership. It frightens me to think of how this shift may alter our relationship, how he might feel compelled to step into a role that distances him from the brother I’ve always known. I fear I may lose him just as I have lost my father.

Yet, amid this uncertainty, your words bring me a flicker of comfort. The knowledge that you stand with me during this turbulent time is a balm for my spirit. I long for your return, for the laughter and warmth that you bring.

Until then, I hold your friendship close to my heart, a gentle reminder that even in the darkest of times, I am not alone.

With all my affection,Y/N

Age 17: 

At the onset of spring, when Minghao and Seokmin return to the estate, the world feels subtly transformed. The air is perfumed with the scent of blooming flowers, yet there’s an unmistakable weight in the atmosphere, a quiet acknowledgment of the changes that accompany their new titles. As dukes, both acquire an aura of responsibility that overshadows the playful ease they once share.

The lighthearted teasing that characterizes your interactions is now less frequent, often replaced by a more thoughtful camaraderie. It’s as though their titles impose a certain decorum upon them, one that even the most mischievous of spirits cannot easily shake off. Their laughter, while still present, bears the faintest echo of seriousness that wasn’t there before.

Yet, despite this change, you find immense joy in their company, particularly when they engage in spirited sparring sessions in the training yard. As wooden swords clash and echo, it’s impossible not to feel a thrill at the sight of them—two young gentlemen, once boys, now embodying a gravity that demands respect even in their play.

The matches become a spectacle, each clash of wooden swords accompanied by shouts and laughter that echo through the estate. You perch on the sidelines, an amused spectator, as Seokmin and Minghao banter playfully between bouts. “You call that a strike?” Seokmin teases, deftly dodging your brother’s advance with a lightness that seems almost effortless. “I’ve seen more ferocity from a kitten!”

Minghao rolls his eyes, the corners of his mouth betraying a grin despite his best efforts to maintain an air of dignity. “One day, Seokmin, you shall learn that mocking your opponent is a perilous game.”

You perch on the sidelines, unable to stifle the laughter bubbling forth at their antics. Each exchange between them is a delightful dance, weaving a tapestry of shared history and unspoken affection. Yet, as you watch, you cannot help but feel a twinge of wistfulness; the exuberance of their banter now seems to emerge from a place tinged with nostalgia.

The sun dips low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the training yard; both young gentlemen wield their wooden swords with a fervor that sends a thrill through the onlookers. You remain at a distance, your heart pounding in rhythm with each clash of wood, an exhilaration mingled with unease coursing through you.

Seokmin, with his characteristic bravado, flashes a teasing grin as he engages your brother. “Come now, my lord! Surely you can do better than that!” The laughter in his voice rings like a bell, though you can’t help but feel a knot of apprehension tighten in your chest.

As the match continues, you find yourself transfixed by Seokmin’s agile movements, the way he dances about the training yard with a carefree spirit. However, just as you begin to relax, a delicate butterfly flits past, capturing Seokmin’s attention momentarily. It is in this fleeting distraction that your brother seizes his opportunity, lunging forward with surprising speed.

“Seokmin!” you cry out, the word escaping your lips before you can restrain it. Time seems to elongate as you watch, breathless, as Seokmin turns just in time to evade the wooden sword’s path. He stumbles slightly, regaining his balance as he casts a quick glance your way, surprise etched upon his handsome features.

With your heart racing, you dash to his side, adrenaline coursing through your veins. “Are you quite well?” The urgency in your voice is unmistakable, for the thought of his injury sends a chill through you.

“Indeed, I am unharmed,” he replies, though the forced joviality of his laugh belies the tension of the moment. “Merely caught off guard, I assure you.”

Yet your heart refuses to calm. “You cannot be so reckless! What if you had been injured?” The fervor of your concern envelops you, and you see a flicker of something unspoken in his eyes as he steps closer, the air between you thick with a burgeoning intimacy. That same foreign sensation – the one from years ago when he had brushed against you in the gardens – ignites within you, one you had tucked away and kept hidden, rearing its head in this moment of vulnerability.

“Thank you, Tulip, for your ever-present concern for my well-being,” he murmurs, his voice lowered as he meets your gaze, the world around you fading into an indistinct haze. Just then, Minghao loudly clears his throat, and Seokmin drops his eyes, a bashful blush appearing on the apples of his cheeks.

You step away, embarrassed, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

Minghao corners you in the gardens that night, the cool summer breeze brushing against your skin as you take a walk, seeking solace from the tempest of thoughts swirling in your mind. The encounter with Seokmin lingers like a gentle whisper, an unsettling mixture of warmth and confusion that dances at the edges of your consciousness, teasing you with emotions you struggle to understand.

“Sister,” he begins, his voice so soft that you nearly startle. In an instant, he presses a hand against your mouth, his finger raised in a quiet plea for silence. “It’s only me, Y/N. I fear you’ll wake the entire estate.”

“It’s your fault for skulking about the gardens like a common thief!” you whisper back, fiercely. “What on earth could possibly require such urgent discussion that you couldn’t grant me one night of peace?”

His expression grows serious, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. “You must be careful, sister,” he admonishes, and in that moment, he seems less like your brother and more like the Duke of Somerset—tall, proud, and formidable. “There are whispers… about you and Seokmin.”

“Whispers? Whatever do you mean?” You search his face for clarification, anxiety bubbling within you.

Minghao shakes his head as if dismissing the very idea of this conversation. A wave of indignation washes over you, eager to burst forth. He may be only two years your elder, yet he still insists on treating you like a child. “Your debut into society draws near,” he continues, his voice measured and resolute. “You mustn’t jeopardize it.”

“But Minghao—” you begin, but he raises a hand, silencing you with a mere gesture.

“Listen. You know how these things unfold. A mere hint of impropriety could tarnish your reputation. I don’t want you to suffer from the kind of gossip that twists the truth.” His tone softens, revealing a hint of genuine concern that pierces through your indignation. “I only want what’s best for you.”

You meet his gaze, the weight of his words pressing down on you. “I am not a child anymore,” you protest, the tremor in your voice betraying a mixture of frustration and uncertainty. “I am capable of making my own choices.”

“Perhaps,” he replies, his eyes steady and unwavering. “But I have a responsibility to protect you, Y/N. I don’t wish to stifle your spirit, but you must grasp the implications of your actions.”

The night air grows thick with unspoken sentiments, and as the stars twinkle overhead like mischievous spectators, you grapple with the tumult in your heart. There’s something about Seokmin that sends ripples of confusion coursing through you, a fluttering sensation that stirs your chest whenever his name crosses your mind. You do not fully comprehend what it is, but it’s undeniably present—a flicker of something more, leaving you teetering on the precipice of feelings you are not yet ready to confront.

My dearest Seokmin, 

As I sit here with this pen in hand, I find myself quite at a loss. The arrival of my debut looms on the horizon, and while I am certainly filled with anticipation, I must confess that trepidation dances in my chest, quite uninvited. The notion of standing before an audience of peers—well-bred and well-mannered—fills me with an unease I cannot quite articulate. Will my words tumble forth in a jumbled mess? Or worse, will they fall on deaf ears?

I cannot shake the dreadful thought that I may never find a match. What if I enter that grand ballroom, adorned in my finest gown, and am met with indifference? Will the charming suitors twirl past me, whisking away others while I stand, forgotten, on the periphery? The idea sends a shiver down my spine, as I fear I may spend the evening watching the festivities unfold without me.

As I consider the expectations that accompany my debut, I can’t help but reflect on how you and Minghao have gracefully embraced your new roles as dukes. You carry the weight of your responsibilities with such elegance, while I find myself yearning to flourish in a world that feels daunting. Will I, too, be able to navigate this landscape of expectation and propriety, or will I falter under its weight?

Forgive my ramblings, dear friend. I suppose I am merely hoping for reassurance, a kind word from you. Perhaps if I know you will be there—your presence a familiar balm—I might muster the courage to dance and revel in the splendor of the evening.

With warmest regards and hopeful heart,Your Tulip

My Dearest Tulip,

Your recent letter has landed in my hands like a most delightful spring breeze, though I must confess it carries with it a hint of unease that quite unnerves me. How is it that my steadfast friend, who has faced the world with such spirited determination, now frets over the prospects of the ballroom?

First and foremost, allow me to put your mind at ease. The mere thought of you standing in that grand ballroom, adorned in the finest gown, is enough to illuminate the dimmest of corners. Your charm will be as radiant as the most exquisite of chandeliers, drawing the gaze of all who are fortunate enough to cross your path. I assure you, the gentlemen will hardly be able to focus on anything—or anyone—else.

Now, I cannot let this opportunity pass without a bit of teasing – regarding your step upon my toes during our lessons –  I daresay I must bring up a rather amusing memory. I cannot help but recall how you sent both Minghao and me reeling across the room, much like a pair of wayward marionettes! One can only hope that with age comes grace—or at the very least, a better sense of foot placement! If not, I shall be prepared to don the most resilient shoes in all of England.

Worry not, dear Tulip. I shall be by your side the entire season, if you shall have me (although, I am not entirely certain your dear brother will be entirely pleased by this idea). 

Your most loyal servant,Seokmin

Dearest Sister, 

As I sit at my desk, I cannot help but feel a mixture of pride and exasperation as I pen this letter. Our infrequent exchanges have become quite the tradition, have they not? I find it amusing that as your brother, I am often left to await your words while Seokmin is constantly regaled by your stories. 

With your debut looming closer, I feel it is my solemn duty as both your brother and your Duke to remind you of the delicate nature of polite society. Your debut is not merely an occasion to don a gown and curtsy to the queen; it is a rite filled with expectations and decorum. I implore you to be mindful of the company you keep and the propriety that is expected of you as a young lady and the sister of the Duke. I have taken it upon myself to speak to Seokmin, warning him of the same – he has a habit of forgetting his own station in moments of levity. 

While I know you must find these constraints stifling, know that the eyes of the ton will soon be upon you, not only assessing your beauty but also your character. You are the jewel of our family, and I trust you will shine brightly, even amidst these expectations. 

Write to me when you can, dear sister, even if it is infrequent. Your musings are treasures to your dear elder brother, and I await them constantly. 

With all my love, Minghao

Dearest Brother, 

I say this with the utmost love and devotion:

Damn you. 

(Please forgive my language, and please, do not show this letter to Mama. I fear her admonishments may never end if she hears of my vernacular)

I am acutely aware of the expectations that accompany my debut – how could I forget when both you and Mama loom over me like a pair of hawks? While I recognize your intentions, your words do little to alleviate my anxiety. 

Your warning regarding Seokmin only serves to make me laugh. It is amusing, truly, to envision the Duke of Lancaster being chided by my brother on the virtues of propriety. I promise to keep my wits about me and to present myself with all the elegance expected of a young lady of my station (the sister of a Duke, no less!). 

I will do my utmost to avoid a scandal – or at the very least, I shall ensure that you do not hear of it. I shall write again soon, if only to unleash more of my exasperation upon you. 

Yours, in (implied) rebellion, Y/N (Sister of the Duke of Somerset)

Age 18: 

On the eve of your debut, you find yourself seated on the swing in the garden of the Somerset townhome, the night cloaked in an almost palpable tension. The sounds of Mayfair filter through the stillness—a symphony of distant laughter, the soft clatter of carriages, and the occasional rustle of silk skirts—as the ton settles into slumber. The air feels electric, crackling with anticipation, as if the entire world is holding its breath, waiting for the events of the morrow to unfold.

You take a deep drag from the cigarette you swiped from Minghao’s rooms, the smoke spiraling into the night like a fleeting thought. With each inhale, you hope to drown out the anxious fluttering of your heart, a dissonant rhythm that accelerates at the mere thought of tomorrow’s debut.

“Why, Lady Xu Y/N, are you smoking?” The voice breaks through your reverie, causing you to sputter and cough, hastily attempting to conceal the cigarette behind your back. You turn to see Seokmin, leaning casually against the sturdy oak tree that secures the swing, his figure silhouetted against the moonlight.

His presence is both familiar and disarming, the boyish charm of his smile juxtaposed against the weight of his title. “No, Seokmin, I—” you stammer, flustered.

“Shove over,” he commands lightly, and before you can protest, he plucks the cigarette from your frozen grip, taking a deep, leisurely drag. The sight of him—so confident, so carefree—sets your heart racing in a way that both delights and terrifies you.

“What on earth are you doing here?” you ask incredulously, half-exasperated, half-amused.

“I was with your brother at White’s,” he replies, amusement dancing in his eyes. “It was my mistake to forget how little he can imbibe before devolving into an utter fool. I was merely making sure he returned home safely.” His tone shifts, curiosity sparkling in his gaze. “Are you excited for tomorrow?”

“Excited? Hardly,” you grumble, kicking at the scattered rocks beneath your feet. “What my heart truly desires is to run away—pack my things, flee to Paris, and open a quaint little bookstore. Perhaps live out my days as a spinster, surrounded by novels and solitude.”

Seokmin’s expression shifts, a shadow of understanding passing across his features. “We cannot always have what our hearts desire,” he says, his voice tinged with a hint of sorrow as he exhales a plume of smoke. “Sometimes, we must accept that we can find happiness in what we have, not in what could have been.”

You watch the smoke dance and dissipate into the night sky, thoughts swirling as restlessly as the tendrils of fog around you.

“And you?” you ask quietly, the question escaping before you can catch it. “What does your heart desire?”

“Desired,” he corrects, taking another deep drag. “I once dreamed of being a fencer, of dueling beneath the sun. But above all, I yearned to find love.”

Your heart stutters at his admission. His thigh brushes against yours, an electric touch that feels so scandalously intimate you can hardly breathe. You suddenly become acutely aware of the nightgown you wear, the thin fabric doing little to shield you from the heat radiating from his body. If Minghao were to catch you in this moment, you are certain he would demand that Seokmin either marry you on the spot or duel him for your honor.

The very thought sends a shiver down your spine—an improper thought that both terrifies and thrills you. You are a young lady, poised to make your debut, and here you are, perched so closely to an eligible duke, the expectations of the ton looming like a dark cloud. What would society say if they were to discover you in this clandestine moment? The whispers would be deafening, your reputation in tatters, and yet… the thrill of it, the danger, pulls at you like a siren's song.

“And you believe you shall never find it?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I am a Duke, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice so soft it barely pierces the night air. “Duty must come first. If there is any part of me left, which there rarely is, only then can I pursue love.”

The distance between you feels both impossibly vast and achingly close, the weight of his words pressing against you like an invisible force. You can see the vulnerability in his eyes, the unspoken longing that mirrors your own.

You hum, encouraging him to continue, yet the weight of his words presses down on your chest.

“But how fortunate am I,” he continues, his gaze piercing through the night like a beacon, “to have found such a remarkable friend who stands by me even as duty threatens to drown me where I stand.”

A friend. The word lingers between you, heavy and loaded. Is that truly all he sees you as? The realization sends your mind reeling, your heart racing in an entirely different way.

No, the trees whisper, urging you to reconsider.

Could it be…love?

That foreign sensation, long buried beneath layers of propriety and friendship, now unfurls within you, roots taking hold. You realize with a start that you have loved Seokmin, perhaps from that very first kiss on your hand all those years ago, long before you could articulate the feelings swirling in your heart.

Panic courses through you, and you leap up from the swing as if it has burned you. “It is late, Lord Lee. I must take my leave now,” you stammer, unable to meet his gaze. “I hope you find your way home safely.”

He reaches out, his hand brushing against your wrist, and your breath hitches at the contact. “Wait,” he says, his voice low, almost laced with concern. “Are you alright? You seem... distant.”

His eyes search yours, and you feel the weight of his gaze, an anchor that both comforts and terrifies you. Your pulse quickens, a frantic rhythm echoing in your ears. What would it mean to linger here a moment longer, to let the night wrap around you like a cocoon?

But all the books you’ve read offer no preparation for the heartache that comes with knowing he regards you as merely a friend. A friend, just like your brother. You are his friend, and the shattering realization settles in: he will never love you back.

“Tulip?” he adds softly, the word a whisper that brushes against your skin like the wind.

You swallow hard, every part of you aching to give in, to lean into the connection pulsing between you. But the truth looms like a storm cloud overhead, dark and inevitable.

You love Lord Lee Seokmin, Duke of Lancaster, but he will never love you.

And with that heavy knowledge weighing on your heart, you turn to leave, every step toward your room feeling like a betrayal to the emotions simmering just beneath the surface. 

You don’t sleep at all, thoughts consumed by a boy you had once known and the man you now love. 

Tagging: @kibs-and-bits @moondustmemories @shinwonderful @ivehypnosis @gwend0lyne @thestoryofana13

[rockethorse]

The basegame wedding dress has a pregnancy morph??

[spywhitney]

How I sleep knowing I'll never trust anyone that hates Sydney but worships Richie:

[claitea]

would they ever let lear or any of the rest of the pokemas originals appear in other games. the chances are so low but they're too fun to just leave in the mobile gacha game :(

[boasamishipper]

i can tolerate a lot of things from writers and showrunners but outright condescension and disdain for their fans is not one of them

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Applying to an apartment with little income and terrible credit score, in hopes that they'll be desperate enough to take me

[tariah23]

It’s always crazy to see black celebs spew this same rhetoric because it’s such a privileged take… like, they’ve been famous for so long and have gotten their money up, moved out of the projects or whatever tf, that they’ve forgotten what it’s like to be genuinely feel. It’s impossible for them to connect anymore. As far as the qrt, oh wow ☠️.

[technicolorxsn]

love how there are pretentious video essays that just repeat the book and meander and ramble about house of leaves. it's what zampanó would have wanted. it is not, however, what I want