#just wanted to write a regency ball scene

[hongjoongspoetry]

A Love Written in Gold

Part 1 — The Debut

🦢 Summary: Dearest gentle readers, the much-anticipated season of debutantes has finally graced us, casting a spell of delightful nerves among our young ladies poised to conquer the glittering heights of society. As is tradition, a diamond amongst them has been selected to dazzle—oh, which lucky charm shall it be this year? Amidst a flurry of introductions and grand soirèes, let it be noted that the inaugural ball shall be hosted by the illustrious His Grace, the Duke of Beaumonte. But pray tell, who are those most peculiar gentlemen drawing all eyes with their striking features? And what delightful mischief lies in wait for the debutante of the Jeong Household and her charming commoner, behind the discreetly shut doors of the music room?

🦢 Pairing(s): Proletarian!Hongjoong x Noble!Reader, Duke!Seonghwa x Noble!Reader

🦢 Genres/Tropes: Bridgerton AU, Regency era, forbidden love

🦢 Warnings/Tags: no use of (Y/N), female reader, sexism, mentioned classism, explicit language, overprotective!Yunho, wholesome family dynamics, slight angst

🦢 Wordcount: 14.7K

🦢 Author's Note: Welcome to my second series!! Whi-hoooooo! I've been wanting to write a Bridgerton AU since s3 came out and what better than to make it a Hongjoong series. It was about time I did something for my bias lmaoo. Anyway, the tags are a bit vague and I'll update them as the chapters come out, so check them out with each update. A little fun thing I did. There are a few 🎼 emojis spread through out the chapter with songs I thought were fitting to the scenes, so if you want, listen while reading :) The following songs are in order:

Young and Beautiful, Vitamin String Quartet | We Are Young, Vitamin String Quartet | Positions, Jeremy Green | Chopin: Waltz No. 19 in A minor, Op. posth.

This is all fiction and not meant to represent the idols involved in any way or form. This work is NSFW and not appropriate for minors as it contains explicit scenes. Minors and ageless blogs refrain from reading this work!!!

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Winter prepared for its departure as spring eagerly waited by the door, a green blanket in hand and pockets full of overgrowing flowers. She was more than ready to wrap the world in a warm hug of vivid colors and greenery. Many ladies got ready for their first active participation in the social season, giving their parents, maids and butlers a handful of things to fret over. In one of the most respectable households of the ton, the Jeongs were arranging everything for their youngest to make her appearance in society as a débutante and help her search for the perfect eligible man.

“We must hurry! The carriages are outside,” Wooyoung announced and raked his hand through his combed hair, making it appear messy as if just risen out of bed.

Although being the second born of the late Viscount and Viscountess Jeong and possessing no title to his name, Wooyoung still dressed the part of an aristocrat. His double-breasted vest was a white creme color with a tad bit brighter dress shirt beneath, the light colors contrasted his dark features and he stood out as a star in a pitch black sky. A matching neck scarf rested around his neck and he occasionally tugged at it, complaining of the itchy and suffocating material that no one dared to alter, courtesy of it being his mother’s choice. His legs were tightly wrapped in a pair of black trousers, showcasing his glutes and muscles. The black tailcoat was yet to be worn, but he had no doubts it would hug his body in a delicate way to display his slim waist and make up for his lack of height. 

Granted Wooyoung was not seeking a lady to wed, he would still arrive to gatherings wearing expensive pieces of clothing and jewelry and a dazzling smile that would make even the stubbornest of ladies swoon. Much as last year’s social season, Wooyoung planned on greeting the pretty debutants with a kiss to the back of their hands and — if feeling frisky — asking to sign their dance cards with a glint of mischief in his truffle colored eyes. 

“Then someone should hasten our lovely sister, do you not agree, Brother?” Yunho, the current viscount and head of the household, suggested. 

Unlike Wooyoung, Yunho was wearing darker schemes besides his white shirt and the pretty silver patterns on his thick vest. His tailcoat was darker than coal, but soft as feathers, made out of a velvet fabric indigent people had never set eyes on, much less dreamed of. The black scarf was neatly tucked beneath his vest and the elder showed no signs of irritation, he looked rather content and relaxed on the plush couch in the living room. Yunho’s long legs were decorated with black pants and extravagant leather boots reaching up to his knees. 

The Jeong brothers did not look alike, from their varying facial characteristics to the height difference, anyone not aware of them sharing blood — they would be foolish not to know — would not believe they were nurtured by the same father and mother. 

“What a splendid proposition, Brother, however, I do have to say she is far more civil in your company.”

“Stop speaking of your sister in that way,” their mother, Dowager Viscountess Ireum Lee, chastised and gently ran her palm along her beautiful pistachio green gown. 

At first glance, the woman seemed to be a very serious and strict lady. Some even dared to compare her to a sly fox. Looking into her sharp and dark eyes would be the equivalent of staring into a void hole—dark, empty and cold. Her neatly braided, black hair and red-tainted lips were vivid against her bright complexion, and she was always shielded from the sun whether it was under an umbrella or a great tree. Despite her resting facade — claiming to be missing that motherly warmth newborns would yearn for — she could light up a room with her bright smile and soft-turned eyes. Her beauty was truly unmatched and no amount of makeup could make the other mamas appear nearly as pretty. It was no secret both Yunho and Wooyoung acquired their looks from her. Yunho with his cupid bow lip and Wooyoung’s wide cheekbones and sharp jaw. 

“Although it is true we do not have time to idle. Let us fetch your sister.” The brothers followed their mother as ducklings padded after a hen, with haste and no further questions asked.

“Is she still not ready?” Yunho asked as the trio stopped before a great white opening, both of the doors closed and some shuffling noises coming from inside the youngest's room.

“It seems so, dear.”

“We do not have time, Mama. I should call for her.” As Wooyoung advanced forward, his hand stuck out to grasp the golden knob, Yunho quickly gripped the younger’s wrist.

“Did you not say she preferred my company over yours, little Brother?”

“That was before we risked running late, now if you would.” Wooyoung ripped his hand out of the gentle hold and gave a new try of entering. 

A millimeter away before Wooyoung’s gloved fingers made contact again, the doors swung open and the trio simultaneously stepped back. Multiple maids rapidly left the room and soft as a feather, the youngest and only daughter of the Jeong family came into view. You were gorgeous. The epitome of breathtaking. The white dress cascaded down your body and reached the glossy tiles of the hallway. The details of the gown were subtle. The pair of golden roses professionally woven into the puffed sleeves and across the bosom accentuated your chest. No more frilly necklines or thick dresses to cover your figure. Your exposed neck was adorned with a golden necklace, an heirloom passed down in generations, from your late grandmother to your late mama, to you and eventually to your future daughter or daughter-in-law. It was a simple piece of jewelry and resembled branches of a tree holding pearls and clear diamonds instead of leaves. The maids responsible for your hair arranged it into an updo with many pins to not accidentally stray in your gently dolled-up face. A feather headpiece drew all the attention to itself, standing tall on your crown and flapping with each little movement of yours.

“Miss Lee!” Wooyoung teasingly remarked, “You sure do make a fine debutant, little Sister.”

Matching Wooyoung’s playfulness, you pinched the material of your dress between your silky-clad hands and curtsied with a faux smile, an expression you mastered over the years for this specific event.

“Thank you, Woo.” Facing the rest of the family, you bowed again, “Mother. Yunho.”

“You look lovely, my dear.” Ireum placed her hands on your shoulders and gave them an encouraging squeeze. “Your papa and mama would have been proud of you, treasure.”

“Do you really believe that?” The insecurity in your tone did not go misheard.

“I am more than certain.” She cupped your jaw and allowed her thumb to caress the apple of your cheek.

Your real mother passed during childbirth along with your younger brother, who did not live to take his first breath outside her womb. Three summers passed until your father, the late Viscount Lee, wed another lady with the promise of taking her two sons under his care. In exchange, Ireum raised you as her own daughter, but never with the intent of erasing the trail your mother left in the short three years she shared with you. There was only so much a three-year-old could remember and if it were not for the big portrait of your late parents hanging in your room, you would have forgotten the face of your biological mother. Despite the loss of your mama, you still felt the motherly love seep through the words and touches of Ireum.

The quirk of having a small family was that all members fit into one carriage and no one was rarely ever forgotten. Except for Wooyoung, who did the unthinkable just to escape the watchful eyes of Ireum in order to have some fun. Holding the title of the household, Yunho never stepped out of line and fulfilled his duty of keeping the family in good hands. You had what would probably be the easiest task; to stand and look pretty. It sounded boring at first, but the more you did not bring attention to yourself, the easier it was to slip under the radar of the ton. 

That would all change today. Whilst the people of the ton woke up hours after the sun rose, the famished side of town was on their legs since before the bright star had peeked over the horizon. For them, it was nothing more than another day of hard work and bringing food to the table. Age and gender were two words that did not mean much besides giving character to their entities. The poor were thrust into work at a very young age — something families like the Jeongs could never imagine — and brought in a handful of pennies over the course of weeks. The cycle would repeat until driven into an early grave from either lung poisoning, exhaustion or starvation. Some would say it was unfair that the sole family you were born into could determine your whole life and others would argue otherwise, claiming life was formed by sheer strategy and the use of tools that were handed to you after birth. 

Mister Choi would agree despite having more leaves and sticks in his boyish pockets than coins. Raised and almost born on the floor of his father’s pub, Mister Choi spent more time inside the beer-filled room than in their own house. He was a somewhat respected man, not by means of money, but by the reputation built through his greatest treasure, his pub. It was the reason behind the Choi’s survival through generations and the next owner in line was no one else but his first and only child, San. Mister Choi would be turning in his grave had he known what his offspring planned to do with his greatest treasure. 

Far away from the flower populated streets filled with luxurious carriages, men and women dressed in eye-catching costumes, and magnificent architecture, a dingy space residing in a rundown building. The name decided by the great grandfather of Mister Choi was carved into the wooden sign hanging above the entrance, albeit reformed throughout the years. The moment the key was in the palms of San, the young man decided to change the complete interior. The Crescent was the pride and glory of the Choi bloodline and looking over the semi-full boxing club, San could not have imagined a better use of the previous pub.

“I do not get how you do this, I mean, you can not even see a speck of blood on my floorboards!” San exclaimed, bruised hands resting against his bare hips. 

The male who was done scrubbing the wooden floor threw the dirtied rag over his shoulder and glanced up at the owner. San was a very handsome man. Sharp eyes, full rosy lips and prominent cheekbones. The black hair was parted down the middle with a few strands escaping and falling over his forehead. His most alluring feature were the dimples appearing with his dazzling smile, an attribute people would commit treason for. That was not all. Beside his captivating face, San’s body was that of a sculpture. The thin tank top did nothing to hide his broad shoulders and strong arms, and even brought forth his slim waist. The man had muscles in all the right places, courtesy of the daily exercise in his club blessing him with very hard abdominal muscles and firm buttocks. San was a work of art and there was no doubt in mind he would fit right in with the ton, if he only discarded that kindhearted personality.

“Lukewarm water and a lot of finger strength,” replied the worker, his pale hand coming up to wipe the sweat off his forehead. 

“Remind me to give you a raise. You have helped me more than anyone and to you I am forever in debt.”

“The debt was paid off the moment you allowed me a space in your home, providing food on my plate and shelter over my head. Do not fret over such minor things, San. I do see you as family after all.”

“Good, because you are the closest I have to an older brother, Hongjoong.”

The first time San saw Hongjoong, they had yet to reach the age of puberty. The elder was a scrawny child by nature and stayed that way in his twenties as well. Thinking back to the olden days, not much about his appearance had changed except for the aging and looking part of a man and not a boy. His caramel colored hair was still untamed and reached the base of his neck while the front strands were cut so as not to fall in his line of sight. Hongjoong was a man of very delicate features; a small and pointy nose, a heart-shaped mouth and feline eyes in the prettiest shade of brown San had ever bestowed. 

Hongjoong would have thrived in the life of a rich man, but that loose mouth of his would certainly land him in a heap of troubles. However, it did not matter as he was born with nothing. No title that would pay off all his troubles in life, no family with a great sum of money or greater achievement to inherit. Hongjoong was a mere man with a dream that would never be fulfilled. All the obstacles thrown in his life taught him to be grateful for what he had and not long for dreams out of his reach. 

“I do believe we have cleaned up nicely for my cousin’s arrival. You can take a rest and write some of your poems and stories that you oh-so-desperately hide from me.”

The exhaustion settled over Hongjoong’s shoulders and he could not have been more happy to hear the word ‘rest’ leave San’s lips. They had been cleaning since stepping foot in the boxing club and all because of San’s wish the place be tidy for his cousin’s first visit. 

He let out a sound the mix of a chuckle and cough. “They are music sheets, not stories and I am merely hiding them because they are yet to be finished.”

“You are telling me you have not even finished one piece of music over the course of how many years?”

“I am a perfectionist! You of all people should know that, San-ie.”

Prepared to tease the elder a little more, San threw an arm around him and lit up the room with his dimpled smile, but was interrupted as the door creaked open. In came a man appearing younger than Hongjoong and with a bigger value than the whole club and San’s apartment combined.

Judging by the unknown male's exquisite choice of clothes, Hongjoong would guess he belonged on the opposite side of town where they dined appetizers for lunch and drank champagne instead of water. Not a speck of dirt tainted his all-white suit, in fact, the only brown smudge on his whole appearance was his neatly parted hair to show his forehead. The stoic expression on his round face sent caution heedings through Hongjoong. Fearing he was there to cause ruckus — because why else would distinguished gentlemen stop by a boxing club funded by another poor man — Hongjoong hardened his gaze and balled his hands into fists. A gesture that would have him shunned out of every place in the whole town, no matter how poor or rich he may have been. As Hongjoong moved to greet him in an unfriendly manner, San’s sudden detachment from the caramel-haired man caught him off guard, but not nearly as much as the loud and warm greeting following seconds after.

“Little Cousin!” 

San moved at the speed of a racing horse and disregarded the extortionate suit as he wrapped his bare and sweaty arms around the man, using enough power to lift him off the ground and spin them around. The man looked uncomfortable, but his features were not colored with a tinge of annoyance or anger, quite the opposite. He broke out in a smile, gummy teeth on display and eyes creasing as a cute giggle filled the spunky atmosphere. The threat Hongjoong created in his mind was nothing but an exaggeration. Instead of a Grizzly Bear, the man became a teddy.

“San, release me!”

“I cannot help it, Cousin, I have not seen you in ages!”

The cousin, Hongjoong had yet to put a name to, dusted off imaginary dirt and straightened the lapels of his suit. “It has not been ages, you always exaggerate. We met at Mama's funeral last season, although I do apologize for not interacting all too much with you.”

It sounded like a foolish thing to apologize for, but who was Hongjoong to question it? He had never been to a funeral and would most likely not live to witness one either. The first one would attend, he would be lying in the casket if he was lucky enough to afford one in the first place.

“Anyhow, that is not important now. I did not travel all the way here to reminisce of my last moments with Mama. I have a proposition for you, but before that will you not introduce me to your… comrade?”

Hongjoong looked as perplexed as San’s cousin sounded. He did not expect the young man to address him anywise and certainly not with a high regard. His mouth opened and closed continuously. The silence prolonged and Hongjoong awaited harsh words and a biting remark from the gentleman at his lack of answer, but all he received was a patient stare.

“Uh, right! Right. May I introduce my one and only trustworthy friend, Hongjoong? Hongjoong, this is Lord Choi, owner of Precious, the most well known pub industry in all of Scotland and currently expanding to England.”

“Just… Hongjoong?” The man nodded and Lord Choi sighed. “Very well then. As my cousin said, I am Lord Choi, but you can address me by my given name, Jongho. I am not all that keen on formalities, especially with friends, and a friend of my cousin is a friend of mine.”

Hongjoong stared at the Lord, at his new friend, who showed off his gummy pearls as if the man had promised him a house of gold and not just progressed past the formalities five seconds into their meeting.

“Now, back to what I was saying. The proposition, Cousin. His Grace is hosting the first ball of the season and I have been given the freedom to bring whomever I want.”

“And you decided to bring your dirt poor cousin because?”

“You know I have never liked these social gatherings, I cannot deal with mamas coming up trying to wed off their daughters. Matter of fact, you are invited too, Hongjoong.”

Jongho was full of surprises, Hongjoong concluded. Dressed in a proper suit and hair tidily combed, but he still whined as if a century old child. It was uncommon—in fact, it was very rare—to see an aristocrat be kind toward people the likes of Hongjoong and San. He could not count on his hands the number of times nobility shunned him for his mere existence. To have a Lord call him his friend and invite him to the first ball of the season was bound to leave him skeptical.

Hongjoong cleared his throat and wiped his clammy hands against his ripped bottoms. “Uh, my apologies, Lord Ch– Jongho, but I cannot attend… I do not have the means to finance an exquisite suit or carriage or, well anything to be frank.”

“The same goes for me, little cousin.” San slung his arm over Hongjoong’s shoulders and connected the sides of their heads. “Besides, who will tend the boxing club?”

Jongho broke out into another grin, shoulders up to his ears and his brown eyes squinting so hard one could believe San shared the funniest joke of the epoch. “You seem to forget yourself, cousin. I, Jongho, have enough money to free up the rest of your week and restock your wardrobe for the foreseeable future. For the both of you. Go and clean up while I make some arrangements for us. It is time to pay a visit to an old friend.” He firmly grabbed both men by their shoulders and guided them further into the boxing club.

Hongjoong was never one to back down from a good time full of food, sweets and excessive beverages, not to mention pretty ladies in frilly dresses. Going under the hot stream of water and changing into a new set of somewhat clean clothes, the three men took Jongho’s carriage to the supposed old friend. The representative colors of Kilmartin, blue azure and an argent shade of white, covered the carriage in swirls. The foreign palette was bound to make them stand out from the rest, like the cart passing by drenched in complete black and minimal designs of gold added on the outline and handels.

There was always a mild curiosity among the bystanders standing on the pavement, yet the blue and white colors managed to even catch the attention of the second-born Jeong, who himself was in a carriage going in the opposite direction. The rapid flicks of his wrist slowed down as he continuously peered out the window, his attention caught by something more important than his sister’s worry over her debut. Sweat coiled beneath your armpits and chest, and the air fanned with the help of Wooyoung did nothing to cool you down. 

“Are there different ranks for certain carriages?” 

You snatched the fan from Wooyoung’s hands and smacked it over his head. “Is that the most crucial thing to discuss right now, Brother? I am sweating like a pig and all you ask is the value of carriages? I have not heard one, ‘How are you, Sister? Can I help you, Sister?’ from you.”

“Will you two hush? The whole ton can hear your bickering and I am certain that will not heighten your reputation amongst them. What man fancies a lady who is ill mannered and what lady seeks out an aloof gentleman?”

The two youngest of the Jeong Household erupted into another fit of whines and complaints making Yunho’s attempt at calming them down futile. As the head of the family and viscount, he could handle all the duties that came with the roles, but aiding their mother with the growth and upbringing of his siblings was a far more complex task than anything he had battled before. 

“I would not be deemed ill mannered if my brother could focus on the task at hand!”

“Aloof? Aloof?! What is so aloof about wanting to expand my knowledge?!”

Yunho sighed and leaned back against the plush seat, he could not listen to another second of pointing fingers and turned to his mother for help. The Dowager Viscountess chuckled gracefully, mouth shielded by her clothed hand and lips tightly sealed but not enough to hide the delighted sound. The struggle straining his features did not go unnoticed and she decided to interfere before his rich brown strands turned gray. 

“Alright children, settle down!” Ireum took the fan out of your hand and resumed Wooyoung’s previous task. “Now, Yunho does have a talent for over exaggerating, my dears, but I do not agree with his claim. None of my children are ill mannered, maybe sharp-tongued and… on occasions rowdy, but still very demure.” 

“But Mama!”

“No, buts Wooyoung dear, stop arguing and let us focus on your sister’s debut into high society.”

You straightened at the attention and raised your chin to the heavens. The pride set into every atom of your body and pulled at your lips until a triumphant smile lit up your face. There was no sweet victory as the one over your brothers. Your pleased look crumbled as the trotting horses slowed down and eventually stopped the whole carriage. The moment you had been dreaming of since little legs was upon you and it was equally scary as it was exciting. Walking through the doors of the royal court and being guided into a room with a dozen other ladies waiting to present made you realize how close you were to your dream. There was no retracing your steps to the life of a little girl anymore and while it sounded great, it also filled you with melancholy. Debuting meant entering a stage in life neither of your biological parents witnessed you in and closing the door on your childhood was to leave the memories of your late papa and mama. However, your mourning did not solely contain the passing of the late Viscount and Viscountess Lee, but also of the girlhood you would not face until your own daughter was brought to the world with an ear piercing cry. 

Your brothers or any other male relatives were not allowed in the waiting room and were referred to accompany the remaining guests in the main hall. The girls in your vicinity were all clad the same, some were more nervous than others, but the tension was nonetheless high in the room. The worry of their appearances did not quiet down until the first girl was announced to step out. The remaining débutantes-in-waiting stopped adjusting their gowns and feathers and focused on being calm enough to not ruin the important walk that would determine their rank and value in the market. Out of everyone there, you wished for one person to appear. Mingi, the heir to the seventh Viscount Song, whom you had known since birth more or less. It was a shame only the primary family of each débutante could attend as it would bring you immense peace to have him there. To see his towering height, bright smile, and single crooked front tooth on display and mouthing encouraging words. Mingi’s presence alone would lift the suffocating spell you were under. 

🎼 The chatter of the people outside moved in waves, raising and simmering out between presentations. As with many others, your name was eventually proclaimed on the other side of the door and the last ounce of concern sketched on your features evened out into a pleased expression. Your small courtesy smile was to catch everyone’s attention while your eyes would be the gems making them swoon. The announcer’s voice increased in volume as the doors parted, allowing the spectators to drink in the next débutante. 

“...Presented by her mother, the Right Honorable, the Dowager Viscountess Lee!”

You took calm and collected steps, synchronizing them with Ireum’s who was half a step behind you, looking equally as mesmerizing and captivating as the day she debuted. The trick to these things, she had told you years ago, was to keep your head straight and posture upright, showcasing importance and elegance. You had been practicing the walk for ages. The amount of trashed books and shattered teapots stretched over a hundred, but they lived to serve their purpose in the end. Hushed whispers and looks filled with curiosity followed your moving forms. You immediately found the scrutinizing gaze of the Queen, surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting. She was clad in the most exquisite dress you ever laid eyes upon and that spoke volumes as you had your own fair share of expensive silks tailored to fit your body like a glove. The mighty periwig adorning her small head took on the form of a rosebush and put everyone else’s to shame. It was so huge, you nearly missed the gleaming crown — delicate and small — on top, sparkling in the dim lights of the chandelier.

Somewhere in the crowd stood your brothers. Wooyoung with a proud smile and cheesing eyes while the older looked rather grim, not liking the idea of his baby sister turning into a woman. But underneath that hard exterior, warmth and happiness heaved a weight off his shoulders. A feeling akin to pride swelled in his chest just to see everyone’s surprised and amazed reactions. The Jeongs always knew how to leave an impression.

“Your sister does take after your mother, Lord Jeong.” A deep yet soft voice murmured next to him. Yunho looked away from you curtsying, the correction resting on his tongue dispersing into thin air as it landed on a familiar face.

“Your Grace, what a delightful surprise it is to meet you here.”

The Duke of Beaumonte, Seonghwa, looked as he sounded; rich and eloquent. His hair was long and black, falling as a blanket over his nape and tickling his collarbones. Most of his hair was neatly combed back, all but one piece of his fringe, which was styled to curl in front of his bare forehead. Not many gentlemen dared such a hairstyle, as the fear of appearing gruesome was more probable than winning a horse race, but Seonghwa was the exception. He did not cower for any challenge, even those involving fashion. From peculiar suits to eye-catching hairdos, he frequently introduced new styles into society and it was by virtue of his handsome features that it looked good. The long bridge of his nose, full raspberry-colored lips, prominent dark brows and a pair of mesmerizing eyes held a peculiar coldness, but in essence he carried a warmth strong enough to melt iron. The duke was a character born out of a fairy tale with the posture of a soldier and the brain of a scholar. Women dreamed of a worthy man the likes of Seonghwa and men were green with envy whenever his appearance was made. 

Seonghwa chuckled, “I hope it is not that big of a surprise as I intend to find a wife this season.”

“Ah, that does explain your presence indeed and is that the reason behind hosting the first ball of the season, as well?”

Seonghwa pursed his lips, a futile attempt at covering the broad smile fighting to come forth. “You are still quick-witted, I see… Perhaps it is. A man has to assess his range of selection in some way, does he not?”

Yunho nodded, agreeing with the duke, but could not further comment on the matter as the Queen rose from her seat on the red throne, wordlessly silencing the entire hall. She stopped before you and put a finger beneath your chin, guiding you to stand straight. Ireum did not dare to move an inch from the uncomfortable crouched position and your brothers’ held their breaths as if one single intake of air would ruin the moment for you. The Queen’s icy demeanor was a stark contrast to the warmth emitting from her touch. Your heart nearly collapsed as she uttered one single word and blessed you with a tender peck to your forehead.

“Perfection.” 

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, and your previously gracious smile fell into one of bewilderment instead. There was no higher honor than the praise of the royal house. 

Viscount Jeong did not fathom how powerful of a tongue the Queen possessed. He did not manage to step foot outside the royal court without being hounded by at least a dozen eligible gentlemen, asking for a formal introduction to his sister while boasting about their gold mines in the Kingdom of Spain or studies in India. Yunho was overwhelmed and there was still a ball to attend. The interactions would not stop there, as the season had only just begun, but Yunho was already overthrown by a headache not even his finest flask of brandy could cure. As if that was not enough, another headache in disguise of his brother waltzed through the door of his study.

Wooyoung was dressed boldly that evening. The rich red of his tailored jacket was hard to stray away from and one would think he was one of the débutantes searching for a bachelor to court. It seemed to be a trademark for the Jeongs to have gold details carved into anything they touched as Wooyoung’s jacket was embroidered in that particular color. The rest of his suit was all black; slacks, dress shirt and shoes with his dark hair slicked back with stray strands falling over his forehead in a fashion-like manner. The younger was also freshly shaved and Yunho could feel the pinch of his strong cologne on the other end of the room. 

“Oh, Brother! I was sent to fetch you by Mama; it is time to leave yet aga– Pray do tell, why are you not dressed?” 

“I have been busy discarding letters asking for formal introductions to our sister. Would you believe me if I said there have been over ten so far?”

“Well, yes? Have you seen our sister? She is the most beautiful débutante of the lot! They would be foolish not to secure a formal introduction with her, especially when the competition is tight. Each word spoken is one step closer to joining the family, Brother.”

Yunho opened another letter from the big pile on his right. “As if I would let those deuces in the vicinity of our sister. That is a very distasteful approach, I must say… Letters? What do they take me for? A man who remembers every single face I come across… Just take a look at this!”

Dear lord Jeong,

I pray this letter finds you in excellent health and high spirits.

I shall be curt and consistent in my writing. The news of Miss Lee making her debut in society has captivated all of London and I, too, find myself among the gentlemen bewitched by her beauty. Though I am not the first nor the last to seek you out in regard to Miss Lee, the urgency of my sentiments outweighs my concern for the multitude of letters that clutter your study.

It is said Miss Lee’s grace and elegance surpass the high expectations of Her Majesty. Whispers swirl the ton that Miss Lee has secured the esteemed title of the Diamond of the First Water, and I must confess, it is indeed quite fitting, rendering her all the more desirable. As you well know, Miss Lee embodies a kindness and warmth unmatched by her fellow débutantes and is a great trait for nurturing offsprings, a prospect with which I wrestle most ardently. The gentleness and affectionate nature of Miss Lee is to be guarded and protected from the vile eyes of the inappropriate gentlemen and as a frequent patron of the pugilistic club, I stand ready to defend her purity. This, I give you my word for. 

Each new piece of information adds admiration to her character and one cannot help, but ponder what further attributes Miss Lee may possess. I am but an intrigued gentleman who marvels at Miss Lee’s mere existence and I harbor a desire to peruse the remaining chapters of her story.

It would be my utmost privilege to make the acquaintance of Miss Lee. Might we arrange an introduction at His Grace the Duke of Beaumonte’s ball to deliberate upon a potential courtship?

Yours truly–

The paper was torn to bits before Wooyoung could catch the name of the sender. Although he had to agree the choice of words was improbable, he could argue Yunho’s protectiveness was the main reason as to why none of the letters were approved either. Finding you a possible suitor would be harder than anticipated if Yunho did not let up on his hostility, and as your other brother, Wooyoung made it his mission to help you.

“Perhaps I could help you look through the letters after the ball, but it is best you give it a rest now and get dressed, Brother. I doubt Mama would be delighted to know her eldest is the last to be ready considering your title.”

Heeding his words, Yunho slid the rest of the envelopes over the desk and into his first drawer before disappearing into his bedroom. A similar suit jacket to Wooyoung’s hung over his wardrobe, ironed and ready to be put on along with the rest of his attire. It seemed everyone in the Jeong household was to dress in the colors of love, passion, and anger. The guests and hosts attending the balls Yunho was invited to were usually clad in mild colors and he had yet to witness someone come in a starker hue of red, green or blue. He was well aware of his mother’s schemes. You already garnered enough attention with the simple flick of the Queen’s wrist, and Ireum was a smart woman for playing further into that act. Keeping the curious flame of the ton alive by giving you the most breathtaking dresses the people were going to see. Nothing was to halt Ireum from finding her daughter a perfect suitor, with or without the viscount’s permission.

🎼 Descending down the few steps of the carriage, you held a fair amount of your gown while the other hand was clutching Wooyoung’s open palm. The Jeong family was neither early nor late, although it did not matter whichever because people sought after your arrival. Everyone wanted to catch a glimpse of the débutante evoking a pleased reaction from the Queen. They wanted to see for themselves if your beauty was truly unmatched. 

Yunho was the first to exit the carriage followed by Ireum, Wooyoung and lastly you. After your feet met the ground again, Wooyoung delicately passed you onto Yunho. Entering high society meant replacing your simple ballerinas with low-heeled shoes, something you had yet to grow accustomed to.

“Please, do not let go of me,” you whispered and held tightly onto Yunho’s bicep.

“I do not dare dream of it, Sister. In fact, you will not leave my sight this wonderful evening at all.”

Yunho met the eyes of a dozen lust filled men, some of whom could not even keep their tongues from straying past their lips. These were supposed to be chivalrous gentlemen, he thought and scoffed. It was no doubt the red attire — besides your beauty — was making them act ungraciously. Your gown was lengthy and stuck to your waist perfectly, revealing your ample bosom and collarbones. A ruby and gold amulet was sown into the middle of the neckline and you were certain people would not be able to decide what to look at more, your cleavage or the pretty gem. You absolutely loved the color, a deep red reminding you of the stunning roses growing outside your windows or the fresh cherries that were soon in season. The rest of the fabric hung loosely around your legs, granting you the freedom to move more steadily without the fear of falling over. Your shoulders were covered and bejeweled with rosettes and pearls matching those around your neck and ears. To shield you from the summer breeze, the modiste had gifted you a knitted cardigan that you looped your arms through. Ireum insisted on doing your hair as she had done so for many years and learned to style it the way you loved it.

Crossing the short walk to the entrance of Park Manors, you were in awe at the beauty of it all. Disregarding the decorations, the inside was not much different from your own residence; spacious, tiled flooring and high ceilings, a few paintings and statues to liven up the place, even a few flower pots. But as Seonghwa was hosting the season’s opening ball, he made sure to enrich the place with the most outstanding decorations the ton would see. Big hydrangea bushes were planted by the stairs, the different shades of lavender, violet and purple continuously wrapping around the railings and leading the people through the mansion. The walls were a beautiful tapestry of cream white that gave much space to work with any colors the duke wished for, and by the look of the interior, he had chosen all the hues falling under the category purple. Following the stream of people, you and Yunho found yourself standing in the main hall, a big space leaving room for both dancing, socializing and tasting the savory pastries on the sides. 

“This is wonderful,” you said under your breath and kept your eyes on the enormous chandelier suspended in the center of the ceiling. Under the lightning ornate was an orchestra stationed, already playing a pleasant melody as the guests strolled in one after another. 

Yunho hummed in reply and led you to stand by one of the many windows draped over with a lilac curtain. It seemed to be the safest place for the time being, squashed between him and Ireum, whilst your other brother had already managed to snag a glass of champagne and a tart of some kind.

“I do not appreciate the staring, mother.”

“It is expected, my dear,” Ireum answered, completely overlooking Yunho’s unease. She gave your elbow a soft squeeze of comfort. “We shall let them come to you, my ruby.”

As the music took a quick turn from a mellow to a more festive tune, the gentlemen around you pursued the débutantes for a dance. You perked up at the thought of being asked to dance and could nearly not contain your excitement. A suitor of sturdy height and dark hair had kept his eye on you since your arrival and mustered up the courage to advance with the aid of a much older woman you recognized as Lady Kang. She bowed, which all three of you returned.

“Lady Kang, good evening,” Ireum greeted and smiled politely.

“Good evening, Lady Lee, Miss Lee and Lord Jeong. I believe you have not yet met my nephew, Lord Yoon. Nephew, this is Miss Lee, Lady Lee and Lord Jeong.”

“It is my pleasure.”

“Likewise,” you replied and smiled charmingly. He did not look bad, not at all. His suit was elegant too, and he had a cute pair of eyes, very warm and welcoming.

Yunho, being overly observant and on edge since stepping foot in the Park estate, acted with haste. “Lord Yoon, is it not? I believe I do find your name familiar… Ah, right! You are familiar with the fencing club, correct?”

“Very much indeed, Lord Jeong.”

“It is a shame you have not visited in quite some time… Does it perhaps have to do with your failed payment issue? Or was it for acting unruly after conceiving one too many drinks?”

Despite the festive melody surrounding the two families, the atmosphere had thickened at Yunho’s revelation. Lord Yoon was left gaping with red cheeks giving your dress a run for its money as you took a turn about the room, arm hooked with Yunho’s. Ireum was left to deal with the stunt her eldest had caused, apologizing for Yunho’s curt tongue.

“I did not realize…” You began and glanced down at the shiny floor to hide the embarrassment tinting your cheeks.

“It is not easy, dear Sister. But that is precisely why I am here… and Wooyoung too, but we shall not rely all that much on him as of now.”

Yunho steered you in the direction of Wooyoung still standing by the treats, passing all the mamas and débutantes swooning at his presence, not indulging in them for a fraction of a second. Yunho was not interested in courting a lady and would not do so in the vast future either, he had too much on his plate to seek out a perfect candidate to be his wife! You were his main priority now and God help him if you landed in the hands of someone unworthy, like Lord Yoon, for instance. Creasing and plastering on an overly wide smile, you and Yunho walked past the entrance, missing the arrival of three very handsome gentlemen who stole the attention of every lady inside, single as well as married.

Hongjoong was not used to being under the spotlight. No one would think twice to look at him, let alone whisper about his handsome looks and wish he would ask them up on a dance. Then again, this was not his setting at all. Fancy suits, pretty ladies and interiors worth a sum he did not dare to imagine. At least the music was to his taste, he thought and mentally applauded the orchestra for their skilled fingers managing to handle the instruments correctly. Of course they would, they had all the means for it. Envy climbed up his back and threatened to seep into his bones, but the firm weight of San’s hand on his shoulder brought him out of the jealous haze.

“This is…” 

“I know. It is rather overwhelming,” Hongjoong admitted and nervously caressed the front of his white vest. His whole attire was brand new, a little something whisked together by the ton’s modist — a sweet and peculiar man with kind eyes and a soft spoken tone. They were lucky Jongho’s social circle was quite grand otherwise they would have never made it past the gates of Park residency, let alone see the shimmering insides of chandeliers and diamond ornaments.

“Brothers,” Jongho’s deep yet smooth voice called for their attention. How and when he managed to obtain two glasses of champagne was beyond Hongjoong, but the proletariat in disguise did not care as he grabbed the stem of the overly light champagne flute. “Let us be entitled gentlemen for the night.”

The statement was ironic, if something. Out of the three, Jongho was already a gentleman, but the aspiring musician did not correct him. If the owner of Precious wanted to play pretend, then Hongjoong was going to display the best act of his life.

He smiled, the corners of his mouth sharp and his eyes playful as he clinked the edge of his glass with the others, “Let us.”

The intrigued gazes of the remaining guests were not as overwhelming as Hongjoong first thought. After some time, he, along with the Chois, blended in with the rest of the crowd. They stood a bit from the dessert table and snickered at the aristocats under the guise of looking at the sweets. Hongjoong understood why Jongho chose to not socialize with them. Everything they did, from talking to simply existing, was pretentious. 

“Do you do this often?” He eventually asked.

“Laugh at the upper class? Yes.”

“No, I meant this.” Hongjoong gestured to the ballroom. “Attend balls and other events.”

“Ah… Well, not precisely. Although I am an Earl, Hongjoong, it does not grant me invites to every social gathering. I am here merely because I am an acquaintance of the host.”

“Where is the man of the hour, anyway? Should the host, I do not know, maybe tend to his duties?”

“His Grace is full of surprises. Everything he does is unexpected. Who knows, perhaps he will not even show, but I do doubt that. It is said he is intending to marry this season.”

Another entitled prick added to Hongjoong’s never-ending list of arrogant nobles. Sipping on the bubbly champagne that left a sour taste on his tongue, he watched as a new round of waltz lured the gentlemen to the waiting ladies. Soon enough the room was in full swing and truthfully, it was making him dizzy. All the spinning and changing partners and maintaining the beat—what an exhausting activity. The people standing on the sidelines, much like Hongjoong, enjoyed the festivities of the ball and he wondered if they had nothing better to do than eat sugary treats, gossip and fantasize about romantic endeavors. Not that he could be one to complain, his free time was spent writing poems and music sheets, more precisely piano scores. 

🎼 As the current round of dancing came to an end, the orchestra stopped their performance, making everyone turn their heads in confusion. Their questions were answered as a pair of white doors separated and someone of high status, Hongjoong presumed, entered through simultaneously as the violinists of the orchestra drew their bow across the strings of the instrument. He was mid-sip when the whole room erupted in gasps and murmurs of awe, startling him and having a gulp of bubbly champagne slip into the wrong pipe. Throwing a hand over his mouth to lessen the violent coughs, his eyes widened to the size of the duke’s saucers as they fell on an elegant man knocking the wind out of everyone. It did not matter how well-dressed Hongjoong was or what kind of attire the modiste brought out, no one could match up against–

“His Grace the Duke of Beaumonte!”

Hongjoong could not believe what he was seeing. The duke was simply a flower and every lady, along with their mama, were bees eagerly waiting to get a taste of his pollen. Loyal to the theme, he decided to dress in a velvet suit the color of moonvistas and wisterias. The white damask pattern on the vest was divine and matched his cravat and gloves. Every corner of the room erupted with ‘Your Grace’ as the man passed them, exchanging polite smiles, but not lingering any longer than necessary. What a presumptuous bastard, Hongjoong thought and masked his disgusted scoff with another cough.

The hundred pairs of eyes burned into the body of the duke, never letting him out of their sight, but Hongjoong could not bother to keep looking at him. The host was vexing the green monster inside of him by existing. It was incredible how the toss of a coin pre-birth could determine the outcome for the rest of one’s life. The title was passed down to the duke because of the time and place of his birth. That could have been Hongjoong, San or even Jongho had they come out of the duke’s mother instead.

“Perhaps we should greet His Grace?” San suggested and adjusted his cravat.

“You really believe that would be a wise thing to do? I mean, those hounding him are mainly ladies. What socializing topic could we have to offer him? Perhaps indulge him in your boxing club or– Oh, I know, I can share some of my work and see if he will hire me as a pianist!” The sarcasm did not go misheard and San deflated at the hostility lacing Hongjoong’s voice. The elder quickly regretted his harsh words and patted his friend on the back. “I am deeply sorry, San. That was unjust of me.”

“All is well. It was a foolish suggestion anyway.”

Before Hongjoong could reprimand him for his chastising demeanor, Jongho cleared his throat. “I could formally introduce you. I am quite close to His Grace, after all.”

“You never told me of your connections with a duke?!” San whisper-yelled into his cousin’s ear. “Now you must introduce us, see it as your payment for being dishonest.”

Sighing, Hongjoong replaced his empty glass with another full one. If he was going to turn his nobility act up a notch, he would need more alcohol in his system. Mimicking Jongho’s stance, Hongjoong and San straightened their postures and formed their expressions to make it seem as if they were of important background, all while feigning joy from attending the event. Despite being the shortest of the trio — courtesy of Hongjoong’s heeled shoes making him a few inches taller — Jongho took the lead and maneuvered through the sea of people.

“Your Grace!” He called and the swarm of ladies gathered around the duke dispersed with annoyance dragging their features. 

The stoic expression of the duke lit up brighter than the chandelier above his head. “Jongho! I am delighted you could come!” The men sealed the greeting with a firm handshake, both sporting wide smiles and stars glinting in their eyes. It was one thing to drop formalities with an underdog, but to be on first name-basis with a duke was so foreign to Hongjoong’s ears.

“I hope Spain has treated you well?”

“Certainly it has. Very beautiful weather and polite people. I wish to return after the social season… Possibly with my future wife if everything goes as planned.”

“And I am sure it will. You are the Duke of Beaumonte after all, it should not be a harder task than the piles of paperwork you have worked through in your life.”

Seonghwa let out a hearty laugh. “No, it should not, but I do want a genuine lady and not someone who is after my title. Perhaps, if I am bold enough, I may even hope for a love match.”

“I would not put it past you, Park. Anything can happen while the season is still in bloom.” Jongho winked and sipped on the champagne. The clearing of San’s throat diverted the conversation to the pair standing slightly behind Jongho. “Yes, of course. Your Grace, may I introduce my cousin, San, and our very good friend, Hongjoong."

“Well, gentlemen, I hope the evening is up to your taste.”

“It very much is! I adore the theme and colors of the decorations, it is very soft and not flamboyant as most balls are,” San admitted and although he did not have anything to compare it to, he was genuine with his compliment.

“Thank you! I deemed it most fitting to decorate everything in my favorite color, as you may have noticed on my suit.”

“Yes! A very el–”

“If you will excuse me for a moment, I need to use the restroom,” Hongjoong interrupted. The duke had not done anything particular to upset him, he was simply not in the setting to discuss the elements of the interior while he would later return to his rundown bedroom in the basement of San’s boxing club.

“Of course. Take left in the hall followed by the second turn on your right, continue on the path and turn on the first left, and you shall find the restrooms. Do not worry if you get lost on your way, there are servants and guards roaming the halls so feel free to ask for directions.”

All Hongjoong heard was, ‘Do what you want as long as you do not get caught.’ With his disappearance, the duke excused himself for a moment and took a turn around the room. It was lovely seeing familiar and genuine faces, not just people showing up out of curiosity or interest for Seonghwa’s business. Jongho was one of the few nobility he could stand and actually enjoy the company of without fearing possible ulterior motives.

You bowed to your dancing partner, an Earl you could not bother to remember his righteous piece of land, and returned to the safety of Yunho.

“Did he step on your toes?”

“No, Brother.”

“Then why did you make such a horrid face mid-dance?”

You contemplated whether to share the fragment of conversation between you and Lord Emberstorm that pulled on the corners of your mouth, estimating how furious Yunho would be after hearing what distasteful words stumbled out of the Lord’s mouth. Deciding to keep it a secret for you to bear and your diary to hear, you offered a bright smile and averted the topic elsewhere. 

“I am quite parched, Brother. If you will excuse me–”

An imitation of a cough halted you mid sentence, and you hastily turned around, expecting to be met with another request for a dance. What you did not expect to see was–

“Mister Song!” If it were not for the public setting, you would have your arms wrapped around the gentleman’s neck and cheek mushed against his. Instead, you settled for a simple nod of your head and a foot of space between your bodies. 

“Miss Lee, what a blessing to stumble upon you here.” The underlying tone of amusement did not go unheard. 

“Certainly it is, Mister Song. Have you finally come out of your cocoon to find the perfect eligible lady or are you still running from them?” 

“The world would not be spinning if I was intending to marry.”

You broke out in a fit of giggles, uncaring for the weird stares and whispers set off around you. At the end of the day, everyone dear to you knew of your and Mingi’s sturdy friendship. You harbored a love that was frowned upon considering your closeness despite being of opposite genders.

There was a point in your lives where both pairs of parents considered Mingi to be a perfect suitor and you to make a wonderful wife. You were perhaps five years of age and they considered the blooming friendship to grow past the platonic stage and into something more romantic, but with your father’s passing and Yunho taking over the role as viscount, your brother abolished the arrangement. The Songs did not take kindly to that and nearly burned the bridge you and Mingi built since childhood. Yet more than a handful of years later and you were still as close as ever. Besides, Mingi was not like the other boys you knew of. He was kind and soft and genuine, despite his big build and long legs always making him the most fearsome in the room, he could never spread evil onto anybody, even if he tried to. Mingi was the purest form of life you had ever seen and you could not understand what others saw in him to picture anything, but a shield of comfort and warmth.

The idea Mingi proposed after your thirteenth birthday — that if neither of you were married after your twenty-fifth year alive, you would marry each other mainly for the purpose of survival and an easy life — was proof of his kind nature and good willed heart. Though, to say you were appalled was an understatement. You immediately declined his proposition despite him providing you with a further explanation. It was first when he revealed the secret tucked far away in his chest, hidden behind his many ribs and lungs, and locked in the depths of his pumping heart, with the thought that it shall never see daylight that you allowed him to speak. In the end, perhaps you only agreed to it because he admitted you were the only woman he could consider himself to marry. The pact was sealed with a handshake and your promise to keep secrecy until soil covered your putrefying body. 

A love with Mingi was not horrifying compared to a long life with a stranger because a love with Mingi could never go beyond that of a friendship as he did not fancy women.

“Mister Song.” Yunho stepped out from his place behind you, arms behind his back and a soft smile on his cupid lips. 

“Luh… Lo– Lord Je… Uhm! Lord Jeong,” Mingi stuttered out a response. All of the blood in his body gathered beneath the skin of his cheeks as if the sun kissed him in the morning and left him cursed for all of eternity. It was painful to witness, but it was even harder to watch as your brother was oblivious to the flushed mess standing before him, barely keeping his wits together.

“I admire your suit. You shine everyone else down.”

Mingi’s eyes were so devoid of expression you could see the light reflecting in them as he held Lord Jeong's gaze, then glanced down at his clothes and back up at Yunho. Could it be that the viscount was indeed attempting a most audacious flirtation?

“What?”

Yunho chuckled at his dumbfoundedness and had to cover his mouth to avoid garnering too much attention from the people around them. He and Mingi were nothing more than acquaintances tied together through you. They never had the opportunity or perhaps interest to form a friendship and it was mainly because of their different ranks in society. While Yunho became a viscount at an unimaginable young age, Mingi was still in line for the title and had no real task beside scouting his father and gathering as much information as possible. Mingi was undoubtedly still a child in Yunho’s mind and the thought was bitter on his tongue, like the coffee grounded from the beans imported from India. 

The elder said nothing more. He pressed his lips into a taunting smirk, eyes relaxed and focused on Mingi despite everything moving around them in a haste enough to have their heads spinning of nausea. 

Sensing the air thicken and turn warmer around the men, you gingerly moved without disturbing their quiet conversation conveyed through the windows of their souls. It was not encouraged to venture into an event without a chaperone as whispers quickly traveled around the ton, especially concerning a lady who made her debut not twenty-four hours ago. Walking with your head still on the tall pair, you did not see the figure standing in your way until a collision occurred.

“Pardon me–” The words died in your throat as icy eyes belonging to no other than the duke cut into your core. Scrambling to restore your dignity, you swallowed the thick clump of anxiety and sputtered out an apology. Meeting the duke by carelessly bumping into him on the first ball of the season was not on your agenda. Making a fool of yourself was certainly not an achievement you fought to attain either. “Your Grace, pardon me for my inattentive behavior!”

A hum, dare you say not of disgust, reached your ears. You looked up and came to view with a dazzling smile that spread an assuring warmth through your body. The fear sticking its claws into your back melted and you straightened back up again. 

“It is quite alright, Miss…?”

“Ah…" You curtsied perfectly, "Miss Lee, sister of Viscount Jeong.”

It may have been the stark light of the chandelier or one of the many cherry tarts you consumed through the night, but you were certain a spark of recognition flashed across his face. You would not name it eerie, but it was on the edge of being unsettling how long he was staring at you. On cue, the orchestra played another song and people gathered in pairs to participate in the dance. Seonghwa cleared his throat and let his palm face the ceiling, steady and determined. Everyone kept their sights on the duke, and as he was standing in front of you, a promising position that could only mean one thing, it made you be in their center of attention too. A sudden dread settled in the pit of your stomach. Taking a quick glance around the room, you meet the burning glares of mamas and their daughters, as well as the disappointed looks of various gentlemen. The feeling of being perceived was uncommon and your thoughts simmered and eventually began bubbling erratically with questions of what-ifs. You were ready to take your leave, to excuse yourself and run to a place secluded from everyone and their prying eyes and judging whispers. 

“Miss Lee,” Seonghwa started and brought forth a pencil from his breast pocket. You were by no means a fortune teller, but there was no doubt in your mind he was going to ask you for a dance. The question leaving his mouth seconds after made you consider opening a magic shop on the other side of London. “May I have this dance?”

If Yunho was anywhere near you and not distracted by Mingi’s cute, rambling mess, he would have pushed you straight into the duke’s arms. To your relief, Yunho was occupied with Mingi’s questions about being a viscount to even consider what his dear sister was up to. The consent was expected to roll off your tongue and disappoint the gentleman, but anger the ladies.

“You must excuse me, Your Grace! I seem to hear my brothers calling for me!”

Your legs moved faster than your sight, and you nearly bumped into an elderly couple. Flustered and sweaty, you whispered out a hasty apology and ran toward a room you deemed to have the least amount of people in it. Seonghwa managed to utter as much as a breath before you were gone, lost between the sea of people and walking in the opposite direction of your brother. While he was supposed to feel irrevocable annoyance at your dishonesty, he could not stop the amused smile from lingering on his face. You were quite a peculiar lady, he thought and exhaled a strong gust of wind. If the duke was charmed by your beauty earlier that day, he was more than intrigued now. 

Running around unchaperoned on your first night as an eligible woman was not appreciated by the mamas standing uncomfortably close to their sons. Their judgmental glares stemmed from a place deep within, from a place of concern over what kind of woman their sons would take interest in. It said plenty to see you alone, neither of the Jeong brothers nor that mother of yours that married twice by your side. They do say the apple does not fall far from the tree. No one wanted to welcome a woman carrying the curse of death in her purse with open arms only to later bury their son six feet underground. 

Out of respect for your family’s name and honor, but also to protect your own feelings, you stumbled up the big beautiful staircase by the entrance and turned left and right until you were alone with the walls and striking interior to keep you company. If Yunho got a whim of what you were doing, he would be beyond furious. Instead of socializing downstairs, you opted to hide out in one of the many rooms upstairs. You could already hear his patronizing voice in the back of your mind, asking you how you thought to be courted if you were out of sight for the majority of the night. Would you expect a suitor to fall through your bedroom ceiling? 

🎼 Yunho’s nagging came to an end as a faint melody filled the silent hallway and sailed your thoughts elsewhere. Caught in its waves, you followed the mellifluous notes. If you were a sailor, then the player was a siren guiding you to your demise with their lulling melody. The further you walked, the louder the sound became and you recognized it as piano notes. Each press of their fingers on the keys was a chord striking along with your heart and your own fingers itched to dance along the white and black surface. The long hallway led to many different rooms, all of them shut except one with its door ajar and a string of light cutting across the tiled floor. 

You moved slowly, afraid to accidentally touch the door or disturb the mystery musician, and peeked through the tight opening. Out of all the impressive things you had witnessed that evening, this room would forever be engraved in your memories. In the center of the room by the big window sat a man in front of a dark oak piano, breathing life into the silence. All you could see was his back, a suit the color of snow, and caramel hair reaching his shoulder blades. What a peculiar style for a gentleman, you thought. 

Instruments were placed into every nook and cranny of the room. Guitars, violins, cellos, the pianoforte. This was everything you could ever ask for. You were not aware of His Grace‘s interest in music, perhaps your brother could formally introduce you to the duke later. Looking past the expensive equipment, you took in the room for what it was. The walls were a deep red contrasted by the champagne-carved details on the tapestry and rosewood furniture filled the room, everything from bookshelves to uncomfortable-looking desks and chairs, even a few sofas here and there. As every room of the Park manor seemed to have, even this one was lit up by a chandelier — albeit smaller than the one in the main hall — in the center, right above the pianist. 

He was on the last segment of the melody and you slipped into the room quiet as a mouse stealing cheese from the pantry, but stayed close to the door where the man could not see you until he had turned around. The song was beautiful, far better than anything created by the professional orchestra downstairs. This man was a proficient player and you wondered if you too could have been this talented if your mother had not established the foolish rule in the Jeong Household. 

As the man pressed his fingers on the keys and let them linger until the last notes vanished to silence, your feet got caught on the end of your dress, sending you tumbling forward. Blessed be the chair in your way as it saved you from falling in front of the pianist. The screech of its legs was so thunderous and sudden that it had the man jumping from his seat as if physically burned by the keyboard. The clash of your eyes froze you in place. Not only was his playing enchanting, but his appearance deserved a place amongst the many portraits hanging on the walls. The pianist you had yet to learn the name of was the most handsome man in all of London and you believed he even challenged the duke for his looks. The silence stretched on and your face burned hotter than the fireplace in your living room. Upholding your image, you brought forth your hand and cleared your throat just enough for you to hear. 

“Eh– Excuse my intrusiveness, Mr…!” 

Despite the fear swimming in his eyes and his heart thumping louder than the music downstairs, Hongjoong schooled his expression into that of a relaxed man. You did not seem to have any ill intentions in mind, but he could not take his chances. For all he knew, you could be of great relation with the duke and have him arrested for trespassing. His music playing was not meant for anyone to hear or see. He did not think anyone would be as foolish or brave as him to explore the second floor in spite of it being a restricted area for the evening. Hongjoong hid his sweaty palms in the smooth pockets of his trousers and slipped on a — hopefully — charming smile. 

“You may call me Hongjoong.”

An unchaperoned lady in the presence of an eligible man in a secluded area far from the party downstairs was a risk you could pay for the rest of your life. A barque of frailty, cyprian, doxy, a light-skirt were only some of the vile words that came to life anytime Ireum stepped out of the confines of your home after the passing of your papa and you wished not to know what insults you would be addressed with. Although you did not witness it, you knew it weighed heavily on her. To hear the other mamas speak poorly of her and criticize her parenting, all for being brave enough to search for another love. It was unfair. Ireum’s past was fresh in your memory, but apparently you gave it no heed as you did not run from the man standing in front of you, his hair wild and uncommon and eyes carrying a gleam of adventure. To call a stranger by his name was no better than shaking hands with the devil and your brother would have your head for it, but what Yunho did not know could not harm him. 

Pulling your lips into a polite smile, you scribbled your name on the imaginary paper and handed it back to the red figure with sharp horns and a pointy tail. “It is a great pleasure to meet you, Huh–” You cleared your throat and ignored the flare of your cheeks. “Hongjoong. As I mentioned, I apologize for interrupting. You play a divine tune on the pianoforte.”

Hongjoong turned scarlet at the compliment. Praise was foreign to his ears. Yes, he was constantly showered with love and gratitude from San, but it could not be compared to hearing the words come from a pretty lady of presumed high status. 

“It is alright… Thank you, Miss–”

“Miss Lee. You may perhaps have heard of me, I am the sister of Viscount Jeong.”

It was no surprise all members of the ton were the same, they bled arrogance more than anything else. How pompous of you to think he would know of your name or origin, if only you would have known how many foreign faces Hongjoong had set eyes on. His lips set into a thin line and the fear swimming in his eyes was swallowed by sheer annoyance. “I cannot say I have… To be frank, I am not from this part of the country, nor am I familiar with the duke either.”

“Oh…” You squeaked, only then realizing how improper that sounded. “Well, please, pardon me for my pretentiousness. It was quite naive of me to assume such a thing.”

In the span of less than five minutes, you managed to surprise Hongjoong three times. The simmering emotion threatening to bubble over calmed within him and he did not understand why. Perhaps it was your sincere apology or the way you cowered in on yourself, or it was simply Hongjoong’s mind taking pity on pretty, young girls. Nonetheless, he could see himself on the same podium as the gentlemen in the longhats chatting shit and sipping wine while doing nothing but sit on their rears all day. He was in the vicinity of a lady for all of five minutes and he already managed to sour the mood. Noticing you had not budged from your spot since entering the room and began fiddling with your fingers, he decided to play nice for once. Who knew, maybe it would bring him good fortune?

“Are you familiar with the pianoforte?”

“Hm?” 

He jutted his thumb out over his shoulder. “The pianoforte? Do you play it?”

The smile taking over your features could be described as the sun on a winter morning doing little to warm the earth, but enough to brighten the cold season. “Not precise, but I was very keen on learning it.”

A caramel brow shot up. You were? When did you manage to find and lose the interest in learning the piano? Musicians were one of the few who kept their hobbies alive for most of their lives. Not that Hongjoong had much knowledge on the way things worked in the ton, but was it not better for a lady to have more talents for a better chance of getting married?

“And it is safe to assume the interest died… because?” 

“It is quite the story.”

“I believe we have time.”

You heaved in a sigh and ran your palm along the front of your dress. “My papa had a big love for music and I, wanting to be just like him, harbored that same passion… He passed shortly after my seventh birthday and never got around to teach me…” You avoided Hongjoong’s heated gaze by bouncing your eyes all around the room. “The piano was a means for me to stay connected to him, but the melodies became unbearable for my mother. It brought her great pain just to see it in the common room every day. So… she decided to ban all and any music in the house…”

“My apologies, Miss Lee. I should not have asked–”

“It is not a difficult topic, so rest assured everything is alright. On the contrary, I am delighted you asked. I do not remember the last time I spoke of both my papa and our passion for playing.” 

Overthrown by the feeling of guilt settling in the pit of his stomach, Hongjoong rounded the stool and occupied the left side, leaving a vacant spot on his right. He beckoned you over with a wave of his hand.

“You will not leave me waiting, will you now, Miss Lee?”

The teasing tilt to his voice was an enchanting spell pulling your feet further into the room that you could not disobey and it sounded louder than the slow church bells in the back of your head. The heedless caution of leaving a safe enough space between you died faster than a daylily. You had already crossed every line drawn to protect your innocence from staining and it was still clear as a day. What harm could it bring to sit by a handsome pianist? Taking the seat beside him would leave no room for defense if anyone were to catch sight of you. 

Hongjoong noticed your reluctance and turned his torso facing you. “You are to do as you please, Miss Lee. I can not and do not wish to force you into anything… I do apologize if I am crossing any boundaries, it was not my intention.”

“See it as– as– as you asking me for a dance! I will even allow you to sign my dance card, if you will.”

Pushing the worry of being the main talk of the season to the back of your mind, you occupied the vacant seat and tried, with all your might, to ignore the burn of his thigh pressed against yours and the slight caress of your elbows. A heat warmer than on a summer afternoon grazed your bare arms. Picking your head up from the peculiarly interesting spot on the piano, you gazed into the wide eyes of Hongjoong that eventually creased as his lips curled cutely.

“That would be more than alright. May I?”

As his left hand reached for the pencil lying on the music stand, the other faced the high ceiling of the room. His slender fingers were far from elegant and soft, but rather rough and calloused, reminding you of the elderly men tending to your garden. Nonetheless, you let the dance card fall in his palm and watched as he in one long stroke signed the last vacant row.

“Shall we?” He played a major chord and you let a giggle slip past your lips.

You did not touch the wooden instrument or breathe during his performance. It was a melody too beautiful to do anything but bask in. You simply allowed the uplifting and bright sounds to wrap around the two of you, separating you from the party downstairs. Hongjoong was a different person while behind the piano, you noticed. He closed his eyes and relaxed, becoming one with the music. For a minute you got lost in the beauty of his passion and sensed his love for the instrument emerge from him like sunshine escaping the confines of a cloudy sky. As the last notes spilled out in the room, you quickly reverted your focus elsewhere, but unbeknownst to you, he felt your eyes on him throughout the whole song.

“If I may ask…” You broke the silence, hands intertwined and resting on your lap. “Who taught you to play the pianoforte?”

Hongjoong pressed down on a random set of keys and hummed along to the notes. “No one. I am… self-taught.”

The mystery man was leaving you shellshocked once again. The dozen pianists occupying the dance floor in the main hall were skilled players because of the money in their fathers’ pockets, but Hongjoong was not in need of a teacher.

Talent could not be forced, was what your papa used to say as you sat in his lap before the big instrument while your mama diligently fiddled with an embroidery frame on the other side of the room, her belly round and ready to welcome the growing baby any day. Your papa refused to pay for tutors. He claimed talent and passion ran in your blood and you were too good for a teacher even at the ripe age of three. The late Viscount Lee did not withhold the truth, but before your talent was given the chance to bloom it was put to rest alongside him in his coffin. However, listening and witnessing Hongjoong handle the piano with care and expertise rekindled the flame that died out years ago, and perhaps with the help of another, it could be polished and restored to what it once was.

Scooting closer to the gentleman and pushing your already accentuated chest between your arms — a manner you had witnessed Ireum do countless times while in disagreements with your father to get what she wanted — you executed the mischievous plan with gentle swats of your eyelids. “Such remarkable talent you possess, Hongjoong.” 

Honey to go with his tea was not an option for Hongjoong at the breakfast table, but he imagined it to taste as sweet as you sounded. It was almost hard to swallow his thickened spit as you beamed that sugary smile of yours. The bare night sky bore witness to your intimate moment and promised no rain pour for the foreseeable future, and Hongjoong could erase the thought of handing you his suit jacket — a means of protection from the droplets threatening to melt you at contact. Forgetting himself, Hongjoong hastily averted his attention back to the big instrument and cleared his throat, but could not hinder the stutter from latching onto his words.

“Th– thank you, Miss Lee.” 

Darting your tongue over your bottom lip as you contemplated your next move — a gamble that could set off Mingi’s proposition five years too early — you reached out and put your hand on his forearm closest to you. The man stiffened beneath your feathery touch and his fingers froze above the keys. This was not the outcome you expected. Hongjoong did not fall under the spell as the gentlemen did for Ireum’s vixen eyes and seductive touch, and your consciousness was halfway down the hole of regret and anxiety before you could play it off as brushing dust off his clothes. The fear of being reduced to nothing but a woman of easy virtue loomed over your head and you forced yourself to proceed with the plan.

“I must confess, a twinge of jealousy arises within me hearing you play. It would be marvelous to possess the ability to play the piano as you do…” The finishing touch was to slowly retract your hand and leave a tingling trail on the wake of his arm, and end it with a big, mournful sigh. 

“If it pleases you,” he slowly started and you watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. Being in that close vicinity of a man not belonging to your kin set off a wildfire spreading throughout your whole body. It did not help that Hongjoong was a very attractive gentleman who, thus far, had only shown you kindness. The layer of clothing suddenly became uncomfortable and you longed for a glass of water or a change of clothes, if not both. “...I would be delighted to demonstrate a few simple melodies.”

The act of a dejected woman disappeared and Hongjoong could bask in the light emitting from your bright smile and twinkling eyes. Perhaps it was the very reason he did not inquire about the sudden alteration in your demeanor and gave you a sincere smile of his own.

“Your kindness is most appreciated!”

The late Viscount Lee stood correct as your sponge of a brain absorbed every word Hongjoong uttered and mimicked his motions with utmost perfection. Playing the pianoforte was in your veins and it was a shame Ireum forbade it. Though if the circumstance was different, it would still not change the possibility of playing in public. If one woman did not stoop in your way, then your own female features would. A man with your talents would thrive in high society, but you would only be allowed to play in the confines of your home and even that you were not allowed. The human mind was a peculiar thing. When you finally got around your family and achieved the one thing making you happy, it was still not enough.

Hongjoong’s chuckle brought you out of your blue stupor. “You are a swift learner and possess notable talent at the pianoforte as well, Miss Lee. A most natural talent, if I may declare.”

“Thank you…” 

Greed and envy hid in the cracks of your gratitude, and had you gone beneath a knife your insides would bleed a poisonous green. The three melodies he taught you were certainly not enough to quench your insatiable desire, on the contrary. Having tasted a speck of your dreams made it hard to resist the yearn for the entirety of the feast. The youngest of the Jeong Household was not usually bold, but one might attribute it to Hongjoong’s welcoming nature and dazzling smile. Had the circumstances been different, if he had turned the other cheek and ignored your stumbling presence, you would have excused yourself and returned to the safety of your brothers. But he did not. Hongjoong entertained your curiosity and pointed out a branch of excitement you had no prior knowledge of. 

“Shall… “ You began quietly and cleared your throat. “Shall you be kind enough to teach me the art of playing the pianoforte?”

The grandfather clock ticking in the corner could barely be heard over your thumping heart. If you thought you crossed Hongjoong’s boundaries before, then you were certain you had done it now if the look of his wide eyes and parted lips were anything to go by. 

“I do admire your eagerness to learn, Miss Lee, but it would not be an ideal situation. You are a débutante and I am but a simple gentleman. Our gatherings would certainly garner unwanted attention and be in the way of you finding a suitable husband.”

“It would not be done in public!” 

Because if either of your brothers got whim of your absurd idea, you would not be allowed to leave the foyer of your house, let alone accompany him to more balls in search for a partner. 

Hongjoong still showed apprehensiveness, but you knew that the one thing no man could turn down — except ladies of the evening — was money. Everyone was always eager for more gold and you prayed Hongjoong was not an exception, as he had shown to be multiple times this night.

“An– And your services would not be free of charge, of course!”

The proposition was not bad, Hongjoong thought and raked his mind weighing the benefits and disadvantages. Teaching a presumptuous lady how to play the piano equaled pockets full of money, less dirty floors to scrub and him getting to practice on a real piano every once in a while. The downside of your brothers having his head on a platter would only come true if you were caught which did not sound too bad of a gamble. 

“The question remains of how we are to do this, Miss pianist?”

Too happy to care about the heat attacking your face, you held your hand out for him to shake. The warmth of his fingers burned through your glove and kissed the skin on your palm, a feeling that you soon would find reminiscing for days on end.

“Meet me by the big willow tree in Epiphany Garden two days from now and we shall further discuss our arrangement.”

With a nod of his head, the pianist waltzed straight into the agreement blinded by the shimmering coins floating before his eyes. The celebration was cut short as an eerily creak broke you apart. Both snapped your heads toward the sound only to witness one side of the double doors opened as if given a little nudge from the other side. Fear coiled around your feet and up your legs. You could not remember if you had closed the doors properly or not and your uncertainty did not calm the storm brewing in your abdomen. 

“Perhaps it is merely the wind,” Hongjoong suggested feebly, his words taking on the form of a sword and sliced the snake crawling further up your waist. What possible wind he could be referring to was beyond you, but it was easier to deny reality than fall into a spiral panic. Besides, who in all of London would prefer being upstairs than enjoying the presence of the duke down below?

Time scurried on without your knowledge, yet the loud clash of the grandfather clock striking midnight was not the cause of you parting ways. The harmless scare was enough of a sign to reclaim your designated position next to Yunho and not bat an eye at Hongjoong’s figure sliding through the crowd of guests seconds after your return. The forty-eight hours of waiting began as of now and it may have been the longest forty-eight hours of your life.

© HONGJOONGSPOETRY 2024 - All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting or translating my work is not allowed.

[mllersjoel]

good old fashioned lover boy

Pairing: Regency!Wyll Ravengard x gn!reader

Summary: It's dreadfully boring at this ball, especially when Lord Gortash won't stop talking to you. Lord Ravengard steps in, and just maybe, this night can be saved.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: why does no one write for my bb boy. i love him. have some regency au (writing comms r open btw!)

It’s your second year as an eligible member of society, and you are bored out of your mind. Your guardian has dragged you to yet another ball, with dancing and schmoozing that you would rather die than be doing. Thankfully, you’ve managed to avoid just about everyone who wants to sign your dance card with a glare or pretending to choke so hard tears well up in your eyes. You came here because your best friend, Astarion, promised to accompany you this time and fill up your dance card with his name only, but that plan swiftly fell out the window as he laid eyes on a pretty half-elf.

You could see him check out of the conversation, eyes flitting to them then back at yours. 

“Just go, Astarion,” you sigh, shoving him playfully.

His eyes blink back to yours, trying and failing to pretend like he wasn’t ogling another person. “I have no idea what you’re on about, darling.”

“I can handle myself and it’s pathetic watching you try to concentrate on me. Go.”

Astarion smiles broadly, kissing your cheeks. “Have I ever told you you’re the light of my life?”

You snort. “Just when you want something.”

He shrugs, taking your hand and pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it. “If you need me, just shout.”

He leaves, and you’re barely able to let out a breath before another man (greasy, looking like he needs two decades of sleep) takes his place. Without asking, he signs his name on your dance card. “Enver Gortash, Lord of this estate. Care to dance with me?”

You are pulled to the dance floor before you can even answer and you desperately try to come up with an excuse. “I—I can’t dance right now,” you protest, attempting to extricate yourself from his grasp without seeming rude, “I’m waiting for someone.” He ignores you, laughing. 

“Don’t play coy,” he says, assuming a waltz position. The music begins, and you have no choice but to dance with him. You catch Astarion’s eye and watch him square his shoulders, ready to pull you out of there as you minutely shake your head at him. 

‘Don’t make a scene,’ you mouth.

The entire time you dance with Lord Gortash, he drones on and on about his estate, how he fought for his wealth (although it was an open secret that he participated in less than savory business practices), and how immodestly he thinks women are dressed now. The song feels like its going on forever, then, blissfully, the music stops. There is a slight bustle as everyone switches partners, looking at who’s next on your dance card. Lord Gortash takes your hand, and with a predatory grin realises you have no one else on your dance card. As he takes your pencil, eager to write his name again, a hand grips his wrist and stops him.

You look up and see a beautiful man, dark skinned, hair braided closely to his head and a slight stubble covering his cheeks. He has a deep brown, almost black eye, while the other seemed pale and translucent. His smile is charming and bright, without a hint of sleaziness the other man seemed to carry in bucket loads. “I’m terribly sorry to cut in,” he says, the dulcet tones of his voice sending a slight shiver down your spine, “but I believe it’s my turn to have the pleasure of their company.”

Lord Gortash scoffs, brandishing your dance card towards the handsome man. “Your name isn’t on there. Mine is. Get lost, Ravengard.”

The man—Ravengard—nods, taking a step back. He seems as if he’s about to leave, and your heart sinks at the prospect of another dance with this man when he leans back in, pointing near the back. “Oh, before I go, I fear I spy Lady Karlach on her way. She mentioned something about—what was it now?—getting even?”

You see Gortash’s face turn white as he whips his head around, trying to spot someone. Without sparing you a second glance, he practically runs out of the ballroom, tripping on his own feet as he’s nearly sent sprawling. You hide your laugh behind your hand, catching the eye of Ravengard. “Thank you,” you say, adjusting your clothes, “he just wouldn’t stop talking.”

“You seemed like you were in need of saving,” he says, taking your hand and planting a feather-light kiss on the back of it. “Lord Wyll Ravengard, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You give your name back which he tests immediately, smiling at the way it sounds. He gestures to your dance card, his hand still holding yours. “May I?”

You nod, delighted that this night seemed to be turning around. He writes his name in neat, precise cursive, finishing just as the band begins to play the notes of the next song. His hand is warm as it envelops yours, large, course fingers wrapping around your glove, leading you to the middle of the dance floor.

A slow dance begins to play, and suddenly you are swept up in his movements. He dances easily, leading you as if it was second nature. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” you say, matching his movements easily.

He smiles bashfully, looking down for a second. “Ah, I’ve been away.”

“And how do you like being back?”

He twirls you, catching you easily when you return back into his arms. “I like it a lot better now.”

As you waltz with him, you catch Astarion’s eye once more. He mouths, ‘Good?’

You nod and smile, glad when he gives you a thumbs up of approval. ‘He’s sexy,’ Astarion tells you, and you accidentally snort, looking away when Lord Ravengard raises an amused brow at you. “Too clichéd?”

“No, not at all!” You scramble, trying to school your face into a neutral expression. Every time you looked at his face, however, you started giggling again. Lord Ravengard laughed along with you, still not missing a step and barely even wincing when you inevitably stepped on his toes. “My friend is being stupid, that’s all.”

“Well,” Lord Ravengard starts, stepping closer than what was deemed proper, “if it’s not my horribly cheesy sayings, may I say that you look more stunning than the goddess Aphrodite herself?”

You gasp in jest, smiling. “Careful, my lord, your hubris may see you cursed.”

The song ends, yet he remains still, holding you. “A small price to pay to adequately compliment your beauty.”

Your heart stutters as he steps back, bowing as you hesitantly remember to do the same. “May I see you again?” You ask, hoping your forward nature doesn’t put him off like so many other men.

He smiles broadly, genuine. “I would love that.” 

[dvilkings]

how i would write and wish the rest of the bridgerton show would go (following the books but putting the spin onto things as the show has done): includes spoilers!!!

s3 p2 ~ colin and penelope

colin and penelope are engaged, announcing to her family and his. but eloise, upon finding out, forces pen to tell colin that she is lady whistledown. and she does with much nervous anticipation. maybe after she speaks with colin more about his own writing, encouraging him to publish his work. colin’s reaction to her being LW is angry of course — though not like he was when he said he would “ruin” lady whistledown's life upon finding out who the writer is. he is angry at pen for putting herself in danger of getting caught, and the backlash she will undoubtedly face if the ton finds her out.

this will lead into colin demanding pen retire. though she does not want to, for colin she would. she makes her last entry and calls it quits and continues on with her engagement to colin in a peaceful manner...

(this is where part of me wants a different outcome. that pen does not retire as LW and instead keeps writing, after convincing colin why she must, and his anger and jealousy turns to acceptance. i want this outcome a little more because it will keep the mystery of lady whistledown with the show for longer. and keeps a good narrative for the story to move -- and it would be so sad to not have julie andrew's wonderful voice taking us through regency london. the only downside i see to this is the rest of the seasons, which are notably not in the limelight of society and the eyes of the ton like the previous ones are. they are more on the outskirts and the quiet life of the regency era. and thus, LW would not be able to see much of the goings on for the rest of them. and besides, now that penelope will be married, and to the man of her dreams no less, she doesn't much have need for LW anymore. that comfort and wall will be replaced with colin and her future with him. so there are definitely pluses and minuses for each)

during this time, the queen will announce a bounty put on LW: whoever comes forth and exposes LW’s identity will receive a certain amount of money. this spurs cressida to make her announcement that she is LW, thinking the money could help her and her family so she is not forced into an arranged marriage with someone older who she will not like at all. except pen will not let cressida be known as LW and essentially take her work. so she posts her one last issue of exposing cressida, and then she is confronted in her home where cress explains how she knows pen is LW, and pen's slip up.

since finding out pen is LW, colin has been very tense with her, realizing that he is more jealous than anything, that she had a purpose for so long and her writing while gossip filled, was truly very good. and something he thought he could never live up to. but pen keeps insisting he is wonderful.

pen goes to colin, where he sets up his elaborate scheme with anthony, just like in the books, and announces to the entire ton that pen is LW at the last ball of the season, coincidentally, a masquerade ball. which is also where benedict meets the mysterious lady in silver, aka, sophie (opting not to use her last name in case it is changed due to any ethnicity changes the show (hopefully) makes for her), and he falls in love with her at first sight, having their private moment and kiss before she flees from the scene, most likely when colin makes his big announcement and uses it as a quick escape.

upon the ton accepting pen as LW is how s3 will close, leading to benophie's story for s4

s4 ~ benedict and sophie

time jump ~2 years into the future… benedict is stuck and fixated on his lady in silver, trying to find her after 2 years of searching, to no avail. not knowing her name, what she looks like as she was wearing a mask, knowing nothing about her but for her smile and mysteriousness and the raw need of needing her as his wife.

we will receive flashbacks throughout of sophie’s life with the cowpers, living with araminta as a mother and cressida as a sister. her biological father, lord cowper, not seeing her as anything more than a burden, and lady cowper suggesting she’d make a much better use as a mere servant. i believe at the end of s3/into the time jump, lord cowper will pass and araminta and cressida will be left with close to nothing, especially after cress' embarrassment after trying to announce herself as LW. she is a spinster at this point, something nobody ever thought would happen to her. but we see sophie and cressida as children, growing up as friends and the closest thing to sisters either will have (going off of cressida mentioning to eloise in s3p1 that she had a friend when she was young). but the cowper's dislike and disdain for sophie is clear from her childhood.

when the last ball of the season, the masquerade happens (s3ep8), the other servants helped sophie be able to attend for one night, but she is later on discovered by the cowper’s for her efforts and casted out. forced to find work wherever she can.

this lands her in a wealthy home as a servant. she meets benedict here when he attends a party at the home, where he saves her from the hands of her master’s son with filthy intents to touch her. and he takes her to the closest and safest place he can think of: the mondrichs, parents to the new and young lord kent.

they stay there with them for some time while sophie decides what to do with herself, where we see some of the mondrich's life and their son being raised to be the next lord kent as he is older now (early teenhood i believe?). benedict has no idea that sophie is his lady in silver, and sophie is beginning to fall in love despite her never being able to be with ben. and eventually, ben starts to feel the same, and while he wants to have her as his mistress, knowing she wouldn’t be a fit wife as she is a servant, and he still must marry a woman of proper lineage — she refuses, as she does not want to end up like her mother and have a child who would live just as she has. so he takes her to his mother’s new home (having moved out of the bridgerton house as kanthony have started their own family) as that is the only place he can take her where she will still be close to him — where she becomes a lady’s maid for the girls, eloise and hyacinth.

things follow closely here from the books for benophie. meanwhile, francesca has married john sometime during the time jump (presumably right after s3 ends, close behind polin) and travel between scotland and london. now we are introduced and see some of michael and his life and maybe longing for frannie. this season john most likely dies and we see the beginning of frannie and michael’s story start to unfold, both dealing with the heartbreaking loss. she finds she is pregnant with john's child, and thus the wait happens to find out if her child is a boy, and whether michael will become the new lord of kilmartin or not. but she has a miscarriage, and michael is to become the new lord of kilmartin. and frannie needs him in her time of mourning and strife, but he cannot see her and instead leaves for india, most likely because he had a recent discussion with kate about all the places to see and visit.

and with sophie living with violet and the girls, she grows close to them all, even eloise who has been writing letters mysteriously. sophie is the one to notice this and inquire more about it but eloise is still stubborn and tight lipped.

some time goes by until sophie is spending time with kanthony's children who are visiting violet's home and hyacinth, leading to the scene with her wearing a cloth to cover her eyes and leaving only her mouth exposed. benedict walks in and immediately knows that sophie is his lady in silver. they discuss, they argue, sophie reveals who she is and how she is the illegitimate daughter of the late lord cowper. and she runs away. right into lady cowper discovering sophie is working for the bridgertons and she schemes to get sophie thrown in jail for stealing immediately. which leads then to benedict and violet saving her from being hanged, even cressida becoming involved (sophie was her very first friend, and close to a sister, her character being a perfect mixture of rosamund and posy from the books). and benedict announces their engagement, unbeknownst to anyone, even sophie, right there.

upon finding out ben is now engaged, and the recent letter from phillip (her mysterious letter writing receiver) that she has still yet to respond to, she decides to run away to him, to see if she too could find happiness as half of her siblings have found thus far.

the season ends with sophie and ben engaged and planning to live in the country where it is quiet and out of society's prying eyes, frannie being a widow and losing her unborn baby while michael has offed to india, and eloise running away to sir phillip crane.

s5 ~ eloise and phillip

marina crane has died a year or two earlier (while she thought her life could be full of happiness and contentment with her children, she did not find it to be good enough to keep on going), and her children are older now, but phillip does not know how to act as their father as they are out of control and he did not have good parentage growing up. he has been writing back and forth with eloise bridgerton for some time since his wife’s death and he would like to meet her in hopes she will be a good wife and mother to his children, something he is desperate for. and then eloise shows up without notice.

they discuss, and go on as planned, where they can see if each of them will make an acceptable spouse. both finding the other to be not quite what they imagined after a year or two of corresponding. the children do not want eloise there, and in fact continue to lay traps and prank her in hope to make her want to leave - though she is not deterred. and after a particularly nasty prank that leaves eloise harmed, things change from there between all of them.

her family still has no idea where she is, even after many days away. but it doesn't matter to eloise, because during her stay with phillip and his children, she is growing attached and she believes she could be falling in love with them all. but one night post the accident of the children causing her harm, ending up with a bruise on her face, all of her brothers appear one night to confront the situation and phillip, questioning what has been happening. and though nothing that would warrant scandal, it will still come upon them since eloise ran away, without a word and without a chaperone (despite her being a spinster) and thus leads to a proper courting. eloise is taken to stay with benedict and sophie, living not too far away out in the country and phillip goes back and forth to court her every day as such is proper, while they are chaperoned by eloise's family.

we also see some of francesca living with being a widow, and missing john more than anything. her struggle with wanting a child but not being ready to find a new husband. and missing michael since he has left to india with a list of places to visit from kate. she is still lady kilmartin while michael is away, and taking care of the estate in scotland, which keeps her mind and body busy enough to not stop and think about her grief for too long during the day. and hyacinth is now out in society still, on her first or second year out and while she is from the bridgerton clan (notorious for their attractiveness and looks and popularity), her prospects dwindle due to her "un-lady like" personality that seems to scare off any man. seeing her try to navigate the marriage mart differently than her sisters, with her mischeviousness and stubbornness and unable to stop talking and picking arguments. then seeing a little bit of gregory as an eligible bachelor now, still young and nowhere near wanting a bride, but wanting to find a purpose for himself like all his siblings have seemed to have done. and also seeing a glimpse into kanthony's marriage family life. kanthony as the viscount and viscountess with their children, maybe one or two by this point. and hopefully some sight into daphne and simon (hopefully have recasting simon by this point, sad to say) and their numerous children. hopefully polin will have a child by now, or at least pregnant.

when eloise runs away to benophie's home after one of her fights with phillip, instead of their son getting sick, i believe it will be sophie, in the middle of her being pregnant - benedict is distraught and when phillip shows up to find eloise, seeing a tenderhearted moment of his understanding on the fear of losing a wife and child all in one. and later phillip explains to eloise how marina died in fact compared to the story they were telling the public, and how they will get married. that eloise is not leaving, contradictory to phillip's fears. they find their way into loving each other as they continue to court more, with the chaperone of anthony, and their dynamic as a family - how eloise comes to love phillip's children despite them not being his, and not being hers. and how they decide to navigate parenthood together, promising that they are not their parents or the ones that came before them, and will be better.

[this is where my thoughts will become shorter just because we don't have much build up from the show, aka the supporting characters and what not, so my thoughts will most likely be just as they are in the books, hoping the show will try to stick closely to them]

s6 ~ francesca and michael

michael decides to return to london after some years in india. and francesca has decided to rejoin society, end her mourning, and find a new husband so she may have children of her own. and while michael did run away after becoming the new lord of kilmartin, and needing space from francesca, he is still very much in love with her, unbeknownst to her. but we see more of this, of the heartache he has put himself through over the years. watching his cousin and the woman he loves be happy together, and then the one thing that was keeping him from her happened, and he couldn't let himself take that happiness.

watching frannie and michael reunite, and try to find their friendship again, to michael learning frannie wants children and will be looking for a husband this season, to frannie seeing michael as more than just the friend/cousin he once was to her when john was still alive, to michael making frannie jealous with his numerable admirers.

more people start to notice michael's feelings for frannie, most notably violet and colin (surprisingly). and even seeing their new closeness. as frannie frequently visits michael's home to care for him and his malaria he contracted in india. their relationship becomes more than friendship as francesca battles with her feelings towards michael and not knowing what to do with them. and after finally giving in to their desires, francesca flees back to scotland in the middle of the season. leaving michael confused and unknowing of what to do. colin is the one to spur him into action, telling him it is better to try for his happiness than to not, just as he had with penelope. i can imagine even violet will mention such the same to frannie as well, violet finding another happiness in marcus anderson, lady danbury's brother. that it is okay for frannie to go after her own happiness in someone else, that she can still honor her late husband, and live for him even after he is gone.

and so michael pursues frannie, running after her to scotland. accepting that john would have wanted him to be happy, even if it was with frannie. and francesca continues to battle with herself over her feelings for michael. and after finding her in the kilmartin estate, confronting one another, and asking frannie to marry him, her not knowing an answer, to getting stuck walking through the hillsides in the rain, fleeing to the land's caretakers old home, sleeping together again - michael almost wanting to prove to frannie she could get pregnant after her insecurities that she could not. to frannie speaking with john's grave and accepting that this is what john would have wanted for her too.

and so she says yes to michael, she will marry him.

the rest of the married bridgertons have started their families, found happiness with their spouses, something that drove francesca into jealousy because why not her. (i don't have much idea to what the lives of the supporting characters and other bridgertons will look like at this point as we don't see much of them in the books and the timeline is all off now, so this is what i have thus far) :

violet will have found happiness with marcus (i hope so at least)

kanthony will have several children by now, and have long completely taken over the bridgerton name and kate becoming a wonderful viscountess. anthony is proving to be an excellent father, something he seemed to have been born to do, showing so with his siblings in earlier seasons

daphne and simon are still happy and with several children of their own

polin are as in love as ever, with a child or two now, having spent some of their early life traveling together. and colin having a book published and working on more.

benophie are happy in the country, living the quiet life with a child or two, living close to

philloise and keeping a good friendship between their families, as eloise and sophie grew close when she was el's lady's maid. and their children while years apart, grow up together as friends as well.

[hyacinth's story will follow and then gregory's, though i have yet to finish hyacinth's story and have not started gregory's. i will update the thread once i have done so!!!]

s7 ~ hyacinth and gareth

tbd

s8 ~ gregory and lucy

tbd

[morallysuperiorlips]

Struggling With Your Worldbuilding? Here's Some Help!

Alright, so. Worldbuilding. It's either your favorite thing in the world, or the bane of your existence. Either way, I'm here to help.

Worldbuilding, for me is a very long, tedious, and never ending process. Like everything I output, I base a lot of my things on vibes and aesthetic and personal feeling. It's all innate. However, I can't teach innate so let me tell you about the "routes" I go on when I'm mapping a world.

When it comes to worldbuilding, whether you're writing fanfic or something original, I found there are two roads you can go down when building up your lore:

Character-Based Worldbuilding and Fact-of-Life Worldbuilding.

Character-based worldbuilding is exactly how it sounds--it's a matter of feeling out the character and seeing what it is they like to do and how they function. From there, you might find "oh they like to do X, I want them to do X in the plot." From there, you can determine how X would work its way into your world, and from there you continue to ask yourself questions to further build your blocks upward.

I find it's really helpful to start with a character and find things you want to see them doing, then spark the road of block-building questions by kicking off with a "okay, how can I get this to work?" And this can go for a major plot point, or something as trivial as a side scene. And prepare to KEEP ASKING QUESTIONS because things will continuously pop up as you think about it and consider different angles, etc. etc. etc.

Fact-of-life worldbuilding can come from little puzzle pieces and inklings of things you want to see built into any given world and basically doing the same as above and crafting upward. This can go for a major plot point or some background lore that doesn't see much of the light of day but is there to help build a more lived-in world.

Still unsure of where to begin? There's also room to look at a story and think "what am I writing? What aesthetic/vibe do I want out of this?" and once you can answer that, do some visual intake to jump start your brain.

Look up things that are in line with the vibe you want. Watch shows that follow an aesthetic you crave. Read books in a similar bracket. Take notes of the things you've seen and push and mold them together in a way that reflects what you're going for.

FOR EXAMPLE, my WIP is heavily noir-esque, gothic, dark, so I took in a lot of content that catered to my desired vibes. While doing that, it helped me build into the "routes" I have.

I watched certain scenes of Attack on Titan, and as I witnessed the titans obliterate everything, I decided "Okay, I want the eldritch beasts in my world to get big enough to obliterate everything, what do I need to do within my world, that fits the setting and isn't directly copying AoT that can make that happen?"

When I watched Bridgerton and saw these women in flowing dresses in a regency aesthetic, I said "I want to put my protagonist in that aesthetic in this story, with a modern, darker, twist, so what needs to happen in the universe to get there, why would that aesthetic exist in a modern society?"

When I watched Hunger Games and saw all the capital people mingling around one another at the Victor's Ball in Catching Fire, I said "I want a scene like that in my fic, what needs to happen in universe for that to make sense?"

Likewise, I witness a lot of dumb shit irl, or am apart of certain things, or hear certain things and just think "I want that in my story, how do I need to build my world to get these things to fit?"

It's a lot of trial and error and cutting and reshaping. The world for my current WIP took me 10 years to build up and to this day I am still chipping away at it and changing things about it.

Side note, but I also always encourage working both major plot worldbuilding and trivial worldbuilding, because oftentimes major plot worldbuilding can lead to trivial worldbuilding and vice versa, and you should never knock the background shit. It gives readers stuff to theorize and speculate about aside from the plot, which I think is always fun. And again, that helps provides a very lived in world, which should always be the goal.

As always, have fun and go fucking write something today <3

[theblackdandelion]

my theories for Bridgerton S3 pt2

might be a bit spoiler-y, so don't read if you want to be 100% in the dark (which is fair, i wish i had that kind of self-control)

my guess on what's gonna happen based on the teaser for pt2 and some photos that were released and then deleted from different ig accounts (about which i know thanks to Sammy Bates's videos):

afer Colin announces the engagment, Eloise and Pen have the arguement where El asks "does he know?" - Pen tells her she's gonna stop, that she will write her last column where she will say goodbey, she'll maybe even use a line from the books - "i cannot make heads or tails from a world where Penelope Featherington will marry a Bridgerton" (i'm paraphrasing). Eloise isn't happy but is willing to accept this for the time being

Queen is gonna be displeased with this - one of her few entertainments is going away? no way! we're gonna hunt her down using the ton and 5 grand!

Cressida gets on the train, El refuses to help her (saw this here, sorry, don't remember the user, but their friend from Ireland is a reporter and saw the whole season an told her what happened, apparently; plus one of the photos in Sammy Bates video is of what Cressida has written as LW), and this fake Whistledown is what gets delivered when Colin is looking scared or whatever around the 0:32 mark in the teaser for pt2 (see attached picture). Also, i think this whole scene is happening during their engagement ball or something similar, but also might be on their wedding, but i hope it's before the wedding

Pen gets angry, because no way is she letting Cressida of all people take her work, and decides to publish one more time. Colin finds out (one photo from Sammy's video is of Colin seein Pen in the printer shop with her blue cloak on), que Carriage Scene 2.0 (i heard there might be another one, but i don't recall whether it was just a someone saying "if only" or if it was someone who said they knew it was gonna happen). They fight, they take time apart, they'll make up. Sometimes during this Colin starts to figue oout "shit, i wanna be a writer", and Pen releases her pamphlet about Cressida not being LW

Cressida figures out Pen is LW and starts to blackmail her. Pen freaks out, Colin tells her to chill, he's got it covered (he loves to save Pen, this is basically another of his wet dreams coming true), he plans to tell everyone so Cressida won't be able to hold it above their heads, he tells Anthony and the rest of the family (at this point i'm just following the book's plot)

Pen has no idea wha Colin has planned, is very stressed, faints, everything ends up well. Her faintin was because she's pregnant (another user pointed out that in regency era stories fainting often meant that that chracter is pregnant and she doen't know yet), she's the one to give birth to a boy (her sisters have daughters), and she's the new Lord Featherington's mama

Bridgertons' reaction to who LW is

i also read somewhere that different people will find out who LW is and there's gonna be an array of reactions to the news. So, here are my guesses at he reactions:

Anthony - shock, just shock. He'll be looking at Colin for 5 minutes and just asking what??! with question marks instead of pupils

Benedict - he's gona laugh his ass of

Colin - anger, betrayal, jelaousy, acceptance, pride

Daphne - no Daphn this season, so no reaction. shame

Francesca - calm surprise

Gregory - he won't care that much, he's not that interested in gossip

Hyacinth - she's gona be over the moon. Her new sister is Lady Fucking Whistledown?! Fuck yeah!!! (she won○t be too happy about having to imitate glue, though. IYKYK)

Violet - she'll try not to lose her cool, and will be mostly perplexed. It's a depth of Penelope she never expected to exist, but at the end of the day, Colin loves her and that's all that matters to Mama Bridgerton

Kate - Kate's gonna be probably happy there's another person with more than half a braincell in this family, and won't be angry (there wasn't that many bad things Pen wrote about the Sharmas)

Also, I very much hope for bi!benedict to happen this season. if it doesn't i'll survive it, but it would just make sense if it did

If you read all the way here, congratulatons. Sorry for the typos and me giving up on upper case somewhere in the middle of this. Have a nice day. Get yourself a coockie, you diserve it.

All of those things are just my theories and nothing more. I don't know anything about the production of this or any other TV show. I am just an obssessed 25yo

[mortal-sarah]

please tell me about your regency AU bc I think about MethasJJ every time I hear the Pride and Prejudice soundtrack 😭

Yay thank you so much for asking! Okay now that I have to write this all out I’m a little self-conscious about properly conveying all the thoughts in my head! So bear with me please as this may get rambly, but basically the au follows both MethasJJ and OabWan. And MethasJJ is more Lizzie x Mr Darcy vibes/inspired and OabWan is a little more Bridgerton/almost tropey

Wan is a distant cousin of JJ’s family and after his parents died he was taken in by them as a ward. And if JJ is the Lizzie then Wan is kinda both his Charlotte and his Bennet family. Like they’re each other’s closest companion but Wan (much like in tldhlb) has a habit of getting in embarrassing situations and he’s kind of made a name for himself in the ton as being not up to society’s standards, some people feel he drags JJ’s reputation down by association.

There’s an incident at a ball where Wan trips and ruins the food table which is being set up/was cooked and prepared by none other than Oab who is working as a chef for the family that is hosting. Wan and Oab have a little fight, people gossip even more about Wan, and JJ gets all protective and drags him out of there. Oab also gets fired by the family because they blame him for the embarrassment the whole scene caused, even though it arguably embarrassed him and Wan more. From then on Wan stops being invited to balls and JJ refuses to go as well in solidarity and just because he’s protective and annoyed with the way polite society treats Wan.

Soon after this event Methas, who is of course a rich business man from a family with lots of money, moves into a property his family owns in the same area and one day he sees some asshole harassing and making fun of Wan and JJ on the street and JJ is just telling this man off and Methas steps in to be their charming knight in shining armor and JJ is like “I’ve got this handled” and is very not impressed by Methas which kind of throws him because people are usually fawning over him because he’s rich and handsome.

Methas finds himself unable to stay away from JJ and wanting to know more about him and as he spends a little more time with him he learns about the way the ton feels about Wan. He realizes this stresses out JJ so he comes up with a plan. They’ll bring in a rich handsome man to very publicly court Wan and everyone will be jealous and start to think better of him because he can get such a catch. The problem is that Methas doesn’t really have any friends or people he could trust to do this favor for him. But, he did one time screw over this family and the ward of the family still owes him a debt so he calls that man up. And that man is of course a recently unemployed Oab. Basically Oab has a similar backstory to his one in the show but instead of an apprentice to his master he was a ward taken in by their family and when Methas forced them into ruin with his cruel business practices Oab offered to take on the debt to try to help the family that helped him.

Methas pitches his brilliant plan to Wan and JJ who are like okay I guess? If you think it will work. And so Methas throws a ball to introduce the new couple to society. When Wan and Oab meet again they’re like “YOU!” But they both agree to go along with the fake-dating plan because they both feel stuck, Wan feels bad for being a burden to JJ and Oab has a debt to pay. So they pretend Oab is a rich Lord or something that Methas knows from university.

The plan miraculously starts to work. People look at Wan more favorably because of this perceived advantageous match. No one really recognizes Oab as the chef from the party because rich people never look at the help. But the father of the family who threw the party where the incident went down does recognize him after a while so Methas pays him off to not say anything. By this point JJ and Methas have started to have some banter and some of the disagreements like the ones they do in the show and Methas kind of uses this to be like “see money can buy anyone’s silence, people with money have the most power”.

I also kinda want Kluea to be here. Maybe he and Wan met in a shop one day and bonded and he is poor but he starts to become a rival for Wan’s hand and it makes the society even more interested in Wan because oohh he has two people trying to court him.

Oab and Wan start to very genuinely fall for each other and of course because they are disgraces to polite society they get a little hot and heavy (maybe in a hedge maze or something fun like that). Wan starts to feel like this all may work but he does reject Kluea when he tries to officially ask to court him and some nosy people listen in and it becomes a very public thing. Wan still feels good about things with him and Oab but! Then the guy who knows Oab isn’t a lord that Methas paid off decides to reveal Oab’s true identity. Oab and Wan are disgraced and their reputations once again come crashing down.

JJ is pissed. Oab has skipped town, Wan has basically locked himself in his room crying over losing Oab, and Methas is facing little to no repercussions or judgment for his role in all this because people inherently respect him more because of his money. JJ goes to confront Methas about the plan failing and frankly making things worse and Methas is all like “you’re over-reacting it will all be fine! In fact I have an idea that can fix this all: marry me!” And JJ is all what?? And Methas is like if you become my husband then Wan will technically be my family and people will respect him because of my good standing. And JJ just goes off on him, a la Lizzie’s rejection speech to Darcy after he proposes. He’s like “I don’t care about reputation or those stupid things, I never did! I just care that my brother and best friend was in love and now he’s heartbroken! I don’t want your money or your good standing or your protection! I just want my family to be happy! Against my better judgement I was starting to fall in love with you Methas but now I can see that you never cared about helping Wan or me. All you care about is money and the power you think you have over people.” He brings up that even though paying that guy off failed to keep him quiet Methas was still right in a roundabout way because people have left Methas alone about his involvement in the whole scandal because of his money and place in society. JJ is all “I guess you were right about how money conquers all and since that’s how you see the world I’m out”

So JJ leaves Methas heartbroken and he and Wan leave town to go stay with JJ’s parents (in my mind JJ’s parents went on like essentially a vacation to somewhere but liked it there so much that they ended up buying property there and living there mostly full time). Methas wallows for a few weeks realizing he fucked up. Eventually he decides to take action to get his man so the first course of action is to find Oab and 1 cancel his debt, and 2 convince him not to give up on his love for Wan just because of what happened. Then he and Oab go to where JJ and Wan are staying to both apologize and reconcile. Wan and Oab talk things out and realize they love each other and they only need each other and don’t care about what others think. Methas apologizes to JJ for all the problems his actions caused and actually articulates to JJ what he likes about him and that he has been in love with him for sometime now. JJ hesitantly forgives him and they all spend some time at JJ’s parents’ and Methas of course charms the hell out of JJ’s mother.

In the end JJ decides to sell the family home where he and Wan were formerly living and moves in with Methas into his summer home. I imagine it somewhere like Bath, where it’s a town that’s popular at certain times in the season for like courting but it has an off-season where it’s just a quiet little town. Methas spent most of his childhood summers here so he’s got some feelings about it because his family still died tragically in this au but they all agree they need to not move back to the society that judged them and treated them so harshly. Oab and Wan want to open a restaurant together and so Methas very graciously buys them a property that they make their home/restaurant. The restaurant becomes a well-loved staple of the town and both couples are very happy. Eventually Methas proposes to JJ very romantically in the beautiful gardens of their new home and he accepts. And they all live happily ever after!

Whew! That was a lot! I realize that there maybe wasn’t a huge focus on MethasJJ but in my mind while Wan and Oab are kind of the main conflict, Methas and JJ are very much the narrators who are having conversations with each other as all this goes down around them and are the perspective through which we see the story. Oab and Wan’s story kind of serves their story in a way if that makes any sense?

[scriberated]

Bridgerton S3 Part 1 Thoughts

TLDR: Worst season to date.

Specifics/spoilers below the cut.

In no particular order:

The costuming is awful - and I don't just mean historically inaccurate, cause they weren't the 1st two seasons either and I wasn't expecting them to be. Pretty much everything is either ugly or blatant product placement or both, with very few exceptions.

The Featheringtons are funny as shit and possibly the greatest redeeming quality of this season.

Too many subplots. Way too many. Mondritchs, Violet & Lord Anderson, Benedict and his FWB situation, Cressida & Eloise, Francesca (I understand they're setting up her season so I get it but it's a lot of screen time to spend on someone who isn't supposed to be the MC this season).

Collin did not do enough groveling.

Debling and Penelope are both hypocrites and ill-suited to each other. Both claimed they wanted a practical match with someone they could be companionable with but inevitably didn't work out because Debling wasn't okay with Penelope being in love with someone else (odd for someone who wasn't seeking love) and Penelope claimed she was resolved to a practical match but was actually hoping for love the whole time.

Considering they're supposed to get glow ups for their season, Collin's… wasn't it. His hair was awful and so was all the botox/lip flip. The coat was acceptable but felt very out of place.

They did make me sympathize with Cressida, which I didn't think was going to be a thing. I like her and Eloise together. Even if they don' t make it canon, I ship it a little bit.

The Balloon was the DUMBEST thing this whole season. The whole scene felt forced and insanely slow - like Pen had a whole 84 years to get out of the way, and it did not feel nearly as dire as they tried to make it out to be.

The soundtrack was the best thing about this whole season.

While I appreciate the parallel between Cressida and Penelope - both in their third season, practically on the shelf, facing dire futures - it didn't land the way it could have. Felt like a wasted opportunity.

Benedict and his FWB situation is annoying and stupid and was given entirely too much screen time.

Mama Bridgerton is canny and I love her for it. The blatant "oh btw Penelope is getting proposed to tonight" to kick Collin's butt into gear is fabulous even if it was obvious.

Brimsley and the Queen's relationship is still my favorite. Besties 4 Life.

I love Francesca and John just sitting together in contented silence. <3 Big fan.

Collin's attempts at being a rake didn't land. Like, if they were intending to do it as a way of showing him trying to be someone he isn't, it felt very forced and flat. Collin's characterization this whole season honestly feels very flat. It almost feels like he is still adrift, not invested in the stakes of the season.

Eloise calling on Cressida during calling hour is Gay and I will die on that hill.

Collin writing regency erotica is eternally funny to me. I see many potential AUs of him being a romance novelist and Penelope being his unwitting muse.

The Queen's wigs getting more and more ridiculous just absolutely sent me. The swans?? How did that even work mechanically? Like I'm all for some creative license but come on.

The Queen striking out three seasons in a row with her matchmaking is hilarious but also kind of sad.

Eloise and Cressida in the box during the last ball? GAY. I like them together. I know Eloise is supposed to wind up with someone else (Sir Phillip?) but GD they have chemistry.

Idc about Danbury's feud with her brother. It's so out of left field. Like I know they're maybe trying to build up to Violet finding someone to... tend to her Garden (and that person being Marcus) but it just feels... bleh. Unnecessary.

Portia Featherington is a shit mother and she deserves to be slapped.

I'll give them props for the increased representation - it was nice to see HOH/Deaf & disabled representation, even if it felt a little... token-y? I'm hoping there will be more so it will level out.

The carriage scene. Was it steamy? Yes. I'll give it to them. Luke and Nicola have great chemistry. But did Collin earn that??? After ruining her prospects and then literally ruining her???? No. His proposal immediately afterwards felt impulsive and lust driven instead of love driven, maybe even duty driven since he 'ruined' her. And we saw way more of him being into her than we did of her being into him, I felt like.

Overall... rushed, too crowded by subplots, flat, and frankly disappointing. I really hope they bring it back around come part two but the teaser honestly just makes it seem like it's going to be more of the same. It's missing the charm of the first two seasons - or of the Queen Charlotte spinoff, which I really enjoyed.

[macaroni-rascal]

I hate to say it, but Bridgerton has got to be one of the most uneven-quality pieces of media I've ever consumed. The way it can go from brilliant scenes with exquisite acting and writing and turn around a second later and have CWcore levels of manufactured drama and hokey performances. I'm utterly bored one minute and enthralled the next. They spent so much time building up Cressida but she just ended up being more of a plot device than a character and was unceremoniously discarded the second she'd served her narrative purpose. Kate has kicked Anthony out of bed TWICE this season, whymst? Couldn't be me. And the sheer whiplash from the slow burn Polin deliciousness in P1 to the overcrowded and crammed P2 where almost no moment could be earned or savored because the season should've been at least 10 episodes instead of 8. There's incredible detail and insane craftsmanship to all the design of the show but such silly continuity errors that I sometimes wonder if the different departments even talk to each other. On a certain level I should know what to expect from a Shondaland production at this point in my TV watching career, but I can't help but think that the show never *truly* reaches its full potential. It's just such a mindfuck that a show can both be junk food for the brain *and* approach generational cultural milestone status. I appreciate so much of it but at the same time I want to change so many things, especially surrounding pacing and focus, it's infuriating.

Here's my take: I think it's a show to watch with soft eyes.

I agree with you on almost everything, but I also don't want to take the show too seriously, because I'm just here for the dumb fun regency romance of it all. If I really dove deep I would 100% change stuff, but I'm making the conscious choice to just float on the surface of the water and go 'ohhhh pretty girl in pretty dress getting loved up! ohhh ball gowns! ohhhh drama! angst! hands kisses!'

I could also spend hours on the Shondaland of it all, but I would rather just stare at gifsets of Colin and Pen being in love/adorable/hot with each other, so that's what I'm gonna do. Not trying to yuck your yum, feel all your feelings and think all your thoughts. For me, personally, some media avails itself to closer inspection, and some of is just fluff that makes hearts happy as long as you don't look too close.

[21stcenturygworl]

A Blank Dance Card

Arthur Morgan x (female) Reader, Regency AU 💕

For the Valentine Gift Exchange by @rdrevents! Written for @starlight-starwrites. Thank you for the great prompts, Star! I hope I did them justice.

This is so extremely campy, but I had great fun writing it. I hope y'all have great fun reading it too!

.✧.

One of the joys of being a debutante on the marriage market is finally, finally being able to indulge in the gossip firsthand. Previous seasons, you had to wring every last drop of information out of your friends, who one by one were swooped off their feet by gentlemen looking to win their hearts. Now, you can huddle together with the other girls, whispering and giggling amongst yourselves as you steal glances at the eligible bachelors at Lady Coulston's ball.

You’re quite some years older than most debutantes of this season. It was your mother’s decision, mostly (your father had just told her, “Yes, dear. As you wish, dear. Anything you want, dear.”). She didn’t want you to be married off too young, instead wanting you to become a well-rounded young lady first through travel and further education. You had protested initially, terrified of ending up a spinster, but your mother had promised that she wouldn’t make you wait that long.

You still feel like a spinster between all the younger girls, though.

The ball hosted by Lady Coulston is a grand affair, with the walls adorned with intricate tapestries and richly painted scenes. The floors are marble (Italian marble, she had pointed out to your mother), polished to a glossy sheen, and the ceiling is painted with beautiful frescoes. Walking across the marble floor already has your heels click with a satisfying sound, and you can only imagine what it would be like to walk through this ballroom by yourself.

Chandeliers hang from the ceiling, adding a touch of opulence to the room. Music fills the air, with the strains of a string quartet and a harpsichord playing romantic melodies. Many guests have taken to the dance floor. They twirl across the marble to the melody of the music, the dancers becoming a blur of colours, beautiful fabrics catching the light of the chandeliers above.

Unlike them, however, you have nobody to dance with.

Not a single eligible bachelor has approached you all night. Occasionally one would approach your little group of debutantes, but always to ask one of the other girls to dance, or to make a turn around the room together.

The paper of your dance card is a plain, stark white. Blank.

It’s mortifying, almost. But at least Lady Coulston’s pastry chefs make your attendance worth it. You take solace in the delectable cannolis that nobody else seems to have noticed. Lady Coulston must really like Italy.

.✧.

Arthur doesn’t want to be here.

He hadn’t even wanted to travel across the pond in the first place, and neither did John. But Dutch had insisted that for the adoption process to be finalised, they had to come with him to London. “We’ll head back immediately after,” his now-father promised them.

Apparently in England, “immediately after” means a month or two later.

So here he is, standing in Lady Coulston's ballroom, trying to blend in with the crowd. Arthur had heard stories about the balls, and he’s received countless instructions for how to behave, but he still feels terribly out of place. The grandeur of the room is intimidating and almost suffocating to a young man like Arthur, who spent years sleeping under the stars on windswept prairies.

It’s almost inconceivable to watch Dutch, the same man who had once told Arthur that he was done with the upper class, working his charm on the guests at the ball. It's almost unfathomable that this is the same man who had spent so much of his time in America swindling the wealthy, and yet here he is, a Baron of all things. Arthur is silently hoping that Dutch will turn and give him a sly wink and tell him “It was all just a scheme!”, but it never happens.

Dutch had deemed John too young to attend a ball, meaning Arthur is now stuck by Dutch’s side as he speaks to a Lord and Lady Gardner, who are both hanging onto every word he says as he tells them about his exploits in the American West.

“I will say, I was tempted to stay there,” Dutch says, gesturing vaguely as he speaks. “It’s a very different land from here. A land full of opportunities. The people here in England do not have the spine to take risks the way those in America do.” He pauses, as if reminiscing. “And all the unspoiled nature… By God, Lord and Lady Gardner, it was unlike anything I have ever seen before. Beyond beautiful.”

“My, I can hardly imagine it!” Lady Gardner says, wearing a giddy smile. “It all seems so far away. Perhaps we should visit too someday, dear? It would be so nice to travel a little again, just like we used to when we were younger…”

“Perhaps,” Lord Gardner says, smiling a little uncomfortably. “But perhaps we should first make sure our daughter is married before we do.”

Lady Gardner puts a reassuring hand on her husband’s arm. “Of course, dear.” Turning to Dutch and Arthur, she asks, “Have you met our daughter yet? It’s her first season on the marriage market this year. Very exciting.”

Dutch smiles, corners of his eyes crinkling. “Very exciting indeed. I do not believe we’ve had the pleasure of making her acquaintance yet.”

“Let me see, where is she…” Lady Gardner peers across the ballroom, then lets out a little “Oh!” before she begins calling to her daughter.

.✧.

You whip around from where you stand next to one of the many refreshments tables, halfway stuffing a cannoli in your mouth.

“Dearest!” your mother calls out to you, waving you over with an excited smile. Oh, this is mortifying. You try to swallow the cannoli quickly before other people notice, but it’s already too late. At least you didn’t get any crumbs or cream on your dress this time.

Quickly you compose yourself before striding over to the little gathering, weaving through the crowd. When you reach them, you realise that the men your parents are speaking to are the Baron of Whitchurch, and one of his recently-adopted sons.

Now here is where the gossip comes into play. You had heard many a scandalous story of how Lord Van der Linde (whose family weren’t even English aristocrats to begin with!) had run off to America for nearly a decade. When he finally returned, he brought back two orphans with him who he had adopted and made the heirs to his titles and estates. The legality of it was dubious at best, and immediately a new scandal was born. The future Baron of Whitchurch would be a man with not a single drop of aristocratic blood.

Nobody had told you that the future Baron of Whitchurch was also incredibly handsome.

Your mother is your saving grace, because only when she speaks to introduce you, do you realise that you’ve been staring. You quickly avert your gaze and curtsy with your head inclined. “It’s a pleasure to meet both of you.” Straightening out, you remember your manners and ask, “Are you enjoying tonight’s festivities?”

“We certainly are, thank you kindly for asking,” Lord Van der Linde says. “This is my son, Arthur.”

Arthur. You like that name. It suits him perfectly, highlighting the impressive stature of his broad shoulders and tall frame. Yet, despite the impressive physicality, there is something gentle about him, something that you can't quite put your finger on. After a moment's thought, you realise it’s his eyes; the way they seem to reflect an inner kindness, a beautiful shade of blue.

“This is the first time Arthur is attending a ball,” your mother tells you with a low voice, as if it’s a secret. (It’s really not.) “Why don’t you take him for a turn around the room? I’m sure there’s lots you two can talk about.”

You and Arthur unintentionally share a look, and you seem to reach the same conclusion as him: We have nothing to talk about.

You muster up an almost-convincing smile as you take a step forward. "Shall we take a turn around the room, Mr Van der Linde?" you ask, feeling a bit strange at the formal words coming out of your mouth. Arthur nods, then seems to remember himself and offers you his arm.

.✧.

The two of you walk in silence for a few moments, strolling along the perimeter of the impossibly large ballroom, until Arthur finally speaks. "Erm… Apologies for my lack of conversation skills, Miss Gardner," he says, his voice a bit awkward. He’s suddenly terribly aware of how different his accent is from yours, and the realisation only serves to make him speak quieter. "I… I ain’t used to being at a ball like this, and I'm not sure what to say."

You tilt your head slightly, looking up at him through your lashes. Arthur feels his chest tighten. “It’s alright,” you say, your gloved hand giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. “I can only imagine how strange all of this must be for you, Mr Van der Linde.”

A nervous chuckle escapes him. “Strange is an understatement.” He pauses, considering his words, and then carefully says, “I… I prefer Mr Morgan, actually. Dutch— I mean, Lord Van der Linde only really became a father figure to me when I was already a young man.”

You nod, seeming to understand his reluctance. Or at least pretend to. "I'm sure that's true for many adopted children," you say, voice gentle and sympathetic. You smile at him in an attempt to offer some levity. "How are you enjoying your time in England so far? It must be very different from what you’re used to. Especially the weather, I would guess.”

Arthur returns the smile as his nerves slip away. You’re trying your best to be warm and welcoming to him. Though it is at the behest of your mother, it’s still more than he can say about the other people at the ball — who have mostly stared at him while whispering amongst themselves. "It is," he says, "The weather too, I s’pose. But mostly the people, and the, uh… way of life.” He looks around the room, taking in the elegant décor and the finely-dressed people. "It's all certainly an experience. I ain’t ever seen anythin’ like this before. I wasn’t… raised in high society."

“Well,” you begin as you mull over his words for a moment. You then flash him a wide smile. “You’re going to have lots to learn and catch up on before you become the Baron of Whitchurch.”

Arthur feels his heart skip a beat, and he swallows thickly. “I’m afraid so,” he says.

“I’m sure you’re up for the task, Mr Morgan. I believe in you.”

Despite the rather disappointing start of the evening, Arthur now suddenly doesn't want it to end anymore. He finds himself liking the way you hold onto his arm, speaking with him and making him feel like he's the most important person in the world right now. You're so, so beautiful, too. Half of your hair is pinned up, the loose sections cascading down your back like a waterfall of silk. The bodice of your dress fits snugly around your chest, the skirts flowing gracefully with every step you take. You feel like someone so far out of reach for him, yet you’re right here next to him.

He blinks when he realises he’s been staring at you. He’s grateful when he sees that you’ve been looking elsewhere — but your expression is wistful. You’re watching the people on the dance floor twirl about and laugh giddily amongst themselves.

“I hope I’m not takin’ up too much of your time, Miss Gardner,” Arthur says, and you look back at him. “I’m sure there’s another gentleman waitin’ for your attention.”

You shake your head, a sad smile gracing your features. “I’m afraid not, Mr Morgan. Nobody’s asked me to dance, tonight.” You show your dance card with your free hand, and Arthur sees that it’s empty. “I fear I may not be as tempting as the younger ladies,” you say with a hollow chuckle. “But it’s alright. I’m enjoying myself here with you.”

Arthur's heart twinges at your words and he finds himself wanting to say something comforting, but he's not sure what. All these fools wouldn’t want to ask a beauty like you to dance with them? Anger bubbles in his chest, but he quickly pushes it down. It’s a completely stupid and hopeless task, but he knows what he has to do. Mustering up every ounce of courage in his body, he clears his throat and then asks, “Miss Gardner, would you do me the honour of dancin’ with me?”

You look up at him, almost as if you can't believe your ears. Your eyes light up and you smile, a brilliant and genuine smile that makes Arthur's heart flutter. "It would be my pleasure, Mr Morgan," you say, before curtsying gracefully.

He takes your hand in his and leads you to the dance floor as the music changes, and the musicians begin to play a waltz. Arthur holds you — as he learned during his lessons — and though his steps are a little awkward and stiff, you’re most certainly dancing together. As you start twirling around the room, Arthur finds himself mesmerised by you. He had thought you beautiful before, but now, as he watches you spin around and laugh with him, he's certain that you are the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

How tempted he is to lean forward and kiss you.

It’s not the right way to do things, though. Not here, not now. Not with a woman of your standing. So he spends the rest of the night with you. Dancing, talking, and even laughing together. And when the evening draws to a close, and your parents have called you to tell you that it’s time to take the carriage home, Arthur takes your hand and presses a kiss to your gloved fingers.

“Miss Gardner, before you go,” he begins. He straightens out, still holding your hand. “May I… may I call on you tomorrow afternoon?” he asks, stumbling over his words a little.

You look at him adoringly, cheeks dusted with a light shade of pink as you smile and nod. “Yes. Yes, you may.” You bite your lip, trying to suppress a giddy smile. “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Mr Morgan. Good night.”

[crotchety-old-emu]

Hi can I ask about your writing process regarding "our love is these days' piano"? How do you usually write, do you plan out everything in advance, or just use a general outline? How hard it is to write a story that takes place in the Regency? Do you do a lot of historical research? (I really enjoy looking up the little things you sprinkle in there, like Robin Adair) What is the best advice you wish you would have known when you started writing?

hi! thank you so much for this amazing message. it makes me feel like a *real writer*.

i usually follow the same process when writing a story. i always start with an outline, which i break up into scenes so i know exactly when certain events take place.

however, with olitdp my outline has changed a million times. i usually wait until a story is finished to post it, so it mostly ends up being pretty much what i originally planned it to be. with olitdp, i've had so much amazing feedback that has helped change the story substantially. it was only ever supposed to be 6 chapters. so in all honesty, if you like the story, it's as much your accomplishment as mine.

i have to admit, though, it is bloody hard writing regency. i'd say this is probably the most challenging story i've ever written, because - for some unfathomable reason - i wanted to stay as close to regency english as i could and it requires a fuckton of research. i'm not a historian, and certainly not a historical linguist. so most of the time i spend on this story, goes into looking up if certain words or expressions existed in the regency era. i have several tabs open with etymological dictionaries and thesauruses as i write, plus i consult pride and prejudice (my main inspiration) on project gutenberg constantly to see if jane austen used certain words.

i want to make it extremely clear, though, that i am not saying that i've never used any words that did not exist in regency times. i 100% did, but i try to avoid modern words that would stand out like a sore thumb as much as i can.

this is why it takes me a million years to complete a chapter, by the way. pretty much all the dialogue is written out for the entirety of the story (unless my amazing readers inspire me to change the outline yet again). but all the actions in between, choosing the right and period-appropriate words to describe them, takes hours and hours of research.

as for other research, i have gone down many a regency rabbit hole. i have spent days reading about the correct order in which to enter or exit a dining room, the layout of upper class regency houses, the way a regency household is structured, popular books and songs of the time, clothing items and fabrics and lately, regency dances (which will play a key part in the next chapter 👀).

if you're writing regency stories and want detailed information and video clips of regency dances, this website is the most brilliant resource. it has helped me out so much. highly recommend.

a few other great websites, that gave me a lot of insight and understanding of the how and why of the regency period are, in no particular order:

jane austen's world (just great in general)

regency history (especially the page i linked to, on how to behave at regency balls)

ellie dashwood (youtube channel that has truckloads of information on regency novels, a lot of them jane austen's)

if i had to give any advice - not that i am in any way an authority on writing recency pieces - it would be to not do it 😅. or at least, don't stick to the regency english. it has slowed down my writing so, so much and while i am quite pleased with all the research i've done, i have made it so much harder to tell the story i want to tell, and i am constantly worried i am veering off into purple prose territory with the words i do decide to use.

i have been working on a new penthony-story (mostly in my head, though) for a while and i'm definitely setting it in modern times because i just want to be able to write without second-guessing myself with every word.

should you decide to try and stay as true to regency language as you can, i would heartily recommend pulling up a regency novel (doesn't have to be austen) and checking it for certain expressions and vocabulary as you go along. i think that, far more than the etymology websites, has helped me decide on the wording of my story. plus, bonus re-reading of some of your favourite pieces of literature. (i do get lost in p&p every once in a while, and i LOVE it).

if you managed to get to the end of this ranty post, i commend you, dear reader. thank you so, so much. i cannot tell you guys enough how much your interest and interaction with me have inspired me and helped me shape the story.

and you, @cardeakelsey: what an amazing ask this was. thank you so much for taking the time to notice the tiny things i put in there and for appreciating them. it genuinely means the world.

[nebulousfishgills]

Behind the scenes for Necrosis please!

1, 6, 7, 11, 17, and 21

Okay let's see here, one essay coming up :)

1) How long did it take you to write this fic?

According to AO3, I published the first chapter on April 20th, 2023 and finished it on October 5th, 2023, so theoretically that's just about 5 and a half months. Of course that doesn't include writing that first chapter and planning it out.

Although, I have planning messages (I wrote my outline on Discord like a Normal Person) that I first wrote on March 29th of that year. So... like six and a half months or so? Give or take?

Damn, when I do the math I'm kind of insane for that.

6) What do you need to write? Is there anything special you need to do/have to help your creative flow?

I have to have some kind of background noise, but that's just a general necessity for me. I can't do complete silence or I can't function. My headphones are going like 70% of the day playing music or whatever.

Writing specifically though, and for Necrosis specifically since that's the focus of the ask, typically it was like, rain/castle/fireplace ambiance. This one was my go-to:

Sometimes I'd also use instrumental tracks/playlists depending on the vibes, or even my Emily playlist (the Twilight one, ofc... god the fact that I need to fucking specify...).

7) What inspired the idea for the plot?

Okay so honestly, with Necrosis I just kinda found the plot along the way.

I knew I wanted to do a sequel to Diplopia of some kind to really give myself a sandbox to play in and see where this story could potentially go. But, eventually I found what I would consider to be my three main plot points, what I would later consider to be the three main arcs or "acts" of the story: Mele and Emily's "unwitting motherhood" arc, the ball and the disaster that befell that, and what I like to call "The People vs. Aro Volturi."

Mele just kind of came to me in a flash of inspiration after scrolling through wikis and looking into Life and Death (genderbent Twilight) and to be honest, all of it kind of stems from that idea. Life and Death has a lot of similar beats in the backstory for the Volturi presented. Sulpicia witnessing Didyme's murder, reporting it, having Mele steal Aro's gift to give it to her before he's executed. Regency ends up two-thirds female, you get the idea. Shipping her with Jane was just me having some fun.

One of my HUGE big brain moments was me deciding to have Athenodora's murder be orchestrated by Aro because he knew that she knew about his sister. In the original story of Diplopia (the full thing, not the very original one shot), I had Athenodora be dead just to cut down on the chaos of the whole situation, but I actually took inspiration from Caius' canon backstory for it. He hates werewolves in canon because he was almost killed by one and is utterly terrified of them. In my version, he hates them because werewolves killed his wife.

The subplot of Necrosis with Emily finding Athenodora's journal and putting the pieces together about what actually happened is still something I'm very proud of because that wasn't the original intention of Athenodora being absent, and I'm also proud that I had Thena's knowledge be somewhat of a mystery as well, so the reader only realizes it once Emily points it out when she's delivering her litigation.

Anyways, that was a tangent for only one plot point.

I chose to have a ball in the middle because I feel like it can be a staple in Volturi fics, and also because I wanted to include some more traditional vampire-type tropes. I wouldn't go as far to call it like a "red herring" part of the fic since it seems like a weird distraction from the main plot...

And this is where I admit that the HARDEST part of planning this fic was figuring out the conflict, and ultimately I landed on another Twilight fic staple: Newborn army conspiracy.

I knew that whatever this conflict was, it was only meant to be a plot device/distraction from the actual conflict of the fic, which was Emily dealing with this forbidden knowledge about what happened to Didyme. But this plot also couldn't be entirely pointless because it had to lead to some type of explosion that lead Emily to announcing this information. It was a lot of complex pinboarding in my head. So, I kinda just landed on Newborn Vampire Army and let that do what it will.

Fun fact about that, if in that first group of newborns caught in chapter 2, one of those vampires seemed a liiiiittle personal (the one Emily executes herself), it's because I based him on my ex. So.

Anyways, naturally the last plot point was the main reason I wrote the whole fic. Didyme and all that backstory is an aspect of the Twilight lore that fascinates me because it's genuinely interesting, yet never mentioned or expanded upon and I LOVE fics that deal with it.

I had to leave little breadcrumbs leading up to it, and I even foreshadowed it in Diplopia when I had Emily tell Sulpicia that she was sure "someone [t]here has sororicide on their conscience." Which seems like a highly specific and odd detail unless You Know.

Necrosis was all about showing some growth for Emily. She's been in Survival Mode for most of her life, and now that she's comfortable, she can enter that Growth Stage of living. Diplopia wasn't about character development, at its core it was about me being silly. Necrosis' entire thesis is basically me flipping a fat bird to Stephenie Meyer's dumb and hypocritical tidbit about vampires being static beings incapable of developing. Emily has the ability to care about others and for the greater good, she just was never in a position to try.

Those three plot points kind of showcase those developmental phases. Caring for and helping Mele learn and grow (theoretically this parallels Eleven), letting herself be frivolous and enjoy herself for the hell of it (dressing up all fancy, dancing, this arc even opens with Emily in bed with Heidi to explore her sexuality), and then choosing to act in the interest of the greater good because it was the right thing to do.

So, tl;dr, Necrosis' plot was very complicated to map out because I had the different destinations I wanted, but had to do some work to chart the courses.

11) Was there a scene you hadn't originally planned to include? Why did you decide to fit it in?

To be honest, most of Necrosis happened as I planned it, convoluted as it was. There weren't many outtakes, if any that I can remember. I suppose there were tidbits that I'd debated about including or not before ultimately deciding to add them in anyways. Emily and Heidi being intimate springs to mind as one of these elements because I always had assumed that they had some type of physical relationship, but only really implied or mentioned in passing. I felt bold, though, and just decided "fuck it."

I did this silly doodle a while back using that lesbian eyeshadow meme as a template (it's not very good, be warned) and I've made memes about them having some type of intimate relationship.

Something else that I never did explicitly state but I've headcanoned since basically the veeeeeerry beginning was some type of similar relationship between Emily and Sulpicia, even if it was only like once or twice. Maybe in my mind I think the way it goes is that Heidi was very obviously some type of awakening for Emily and when she's confused by this, she asked Sulpicia what the fuck is going on and Emily basically has to get the "gay urges" talk from Picia. Then, perhaps similar to that bit in Game of Thrones with Daenerys and her handmaiden in the first season, Emily has Picia show her what to do with a woman before she tries to work her almost nonexistent charm on Heidi... tbh this might make for a good one shot.

Emily's the embodiment of repression, and she fell into a coven of actual slut vampires that do whatever they want is what I'm saying.

17) What was the hardest scene to write?

"Hard" can have multiple definitions. If we were to say scenes I was dragging my feet to get through, I'd probably say some of the ball scenes because they just weren't as meaty as I would have liked and I was itching to get to the chaos of the After.

Smut actually got easier overtime because I was practicing in private for little personal projects, but the hard part eventually became a wording issue. I've learned how to get nastier with it, but I know I need to hold myself back in certain regards because a) it's not the focus of the fic and b) not everyone is into hardcore smut. It's a balance that must be hit, but as one of my friends put it, "having to be eloquent about it is like pulling teeth."

Hard emotionally, I'd say that the bit in the last chapter when Emily and Caius are talking about outliving everything and everyone they knew. It was my last chapter and I hadn't intended for it to get that deep at all, but it was 2 AM and my brain just kind of led me down that angst ramble unplanned. Finishing Necrosis was always gonna be emotional for me and that just really hit a certain way. I actually had to stop and finish it in the morning because I had started crying over it.

It was the existentialism and my chronic "Emily Leaving Henry" guilt flaring up with a vengeance.

21) What was something you didn't expect people to notice or gravitate towards in this fic?

Something that was funny to me was how you in particular seemed suspicious of Mele and her actions lmao. I can totally see why, but honestly her quick acceptance of vampirism can be boiled down to three things:

1) In some ways she felt like some type of caricature of people who want to be vampires and would be like "yeah sure fuck it."

2) Plot Reasons/Mating Bond with Jane. Mating bonds/pulls aren't technically even a canon thing, but like eeeeeevery fic uses it to the point that it basically is canon. Another example of this is Caius being a painter. Not technically canon per se, but it's a pretty universally accepted headcanon.

3) I'm lazy. Somethings are just easier to handwave.

Although admittedly Mele being some type of twist villain would 100% be some type of shit I'd pull, so I don't blame people for thinking about it. It honestly hadn't ever crossed my mind because my lizard brain was focused on getting to Emily exposing Aro's secret.

And honestly, Emily trying "Caring for a Supernatural Child 2: Electric Boogaloo" was just such a fun concept.

I wonder if Eleven will ever know that she has several non biological/they're emotionally Emily's children siblings. One of them's also named Jane, how funny.

[too-many-rooks]

Writing procrastination game!

Thanks @lastlymatt for tagging me, I got rambly so I’ll put this under a ‘read more’

Tagging @pigandpepper @known-concepts @countessrivers

1.) what’s the name of one of your wips?

My doc names are usually very boring 95% of the time I finish a fic and think it’s ready to post and realise I need a title. How about ‘Yassen Bedroom Visit’?

2.) Describe a Wip in the format of __+__=__

SCORPIA heir Alex + totally normal kidnapping and drugging in the middle of the night get to safety orienteering exercises = childhood trauma

3.) What tags/warnings will one of your Wips need if you share it?

Forced child seperation?

4.) alternative title to a wip?

I don’t really have alternate titles! Titles tend to come pretty late in the process!

5.) which wip are you most likely to update/finish next?

Probably one of my s3 aus I’ve got brewing, there’s a longer thing I posted the first chapter of today but I also have some one shots, one where Yassen gets wounded fighting off Alex’s enemies and Alex basically has to hold him down to say he cares about him, and another where Yassen comes to chat to him in the middle of the night (while Alex is sleeping) and they catch up.

6.) what is one of your wip’s document title, not what it’s name is but what you have it saved as?

Again, extremely boring. Some examples - ‘Tom/House introduction’, ‘stables’, ‘the ball’, ‘heir apparent 1-9’, ‘hunting’ ‘hostage’ ‘orienteering.’

On reflection, these are very badly organised. But, hey Ho.

7.) post any sentence from your WIP?

Okay this took me forever to decide bc I want to share like, all of my sentences, but here’s a sentence from my SCORPIA heir Alex thing where Yassen just tries to take a day off, but is interrupted by Alex sneaking out of school/the country and mountain his school is on

‘Rubbing his eyes with his forefinger and thumb, he blocked out the little blonde headache sat before him, and sighed, already imagining the state of his email inbox when he got back to his laptop, which he’d sworn would stay folded in its case for the rest of the day.

“And how long ago was this? When should I start expecting panicked calls from your father?”‘

8.) a scrapped idea from your WIP?

Not necessarily a scrapped idea but evidently one I forgot about and rediscovered as I was flicking through google docs - originally a pre-season 3 idea (but could work post s3) where Yassen retires, and decides it’s time for Alex to retire too, even if he doesn’t want to. Very “congratulations you are being adopted! Do not resist.” Meme with Yassen that I’ve seen on here, the bit I’d written was him contemplating the least traumatising way to kidnap him, to make sure they’re a happy family unit post-kidnapping

9.) what’s a story you would love to write but have yet to start?

Alex sees dead people AU - Ian knows, when he dies his ghost becomes bound to Alex, and helps take care of him/watch over him in the field, Alex bumps into Yassen at Point Blanc and immediately recognises the ghost bound to him as his father, especially as he begs the assassin to stop pretending like he can’t hear him for once and let him see his son, to protect him.

10.) how many WIPs are you actively working on?

Four - regency fic, darker Alex s3 au, two other s3 aus I mentioned earlier. Suprised myself by how much of this longer ‘SCORPIA heir’ Alex thing that I’d put off for a while I’ve actually written. That’s one that I really want to finish before I start posting bc I’m bad at doing work without an immediate emotional reward/it’s a longer than anything I’ve written before and I don’t want to give up on it when it’s half published. I had been delaying it till after s3 but maybe time to get to work (will try and finish regency fic first)

11.) is there a scene your struggling to write now?

Oh I mean so many but the most immediate stumbling block is with the regency fic, chapter after this one they go to a ball and that’s almost basically written and so is a lot of the next two chapters but there’s things I need to thread into this chapter that just don’t want to be threaded - I need Alex to start being a bit more suspicious of Yassen, and remember that whole thing about his uncle being murdered now he’s a bit passed the initial princess diaries revelation moment.

I was thinking like Alex waiting up for him on Christmas Eve or something and falls asleep then is woken by Yassen sneaking back in and Alex noticed he’s got blood on his clothes or something and Yassen just shrugs him off and reacts more strictly/authoritatively than he has before. But the scene is a bit sludgy I my mind atm.

12.) Not a question but a second kudos!

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

🦇 Don't Want You Like a Best Friend Book Review 🦇

❝ She thinks about her a lot, of course. And the days are better when they get to be together. And when she's dressing for balls now she thinks more of what Beth might think of her gown than what any of the young men might. And holding Beth's hand today made her feel more than she's ever felt dancing with anyone...They're friends. Shouldn't she love her friend? ❞

❓ #QOTD What's your favorite Bridgerton pairing? ❓ 🦇 Anxious debutante Beth has just one season to snag a wealthy husband, while Gwen is on her fourth season with no intention of finding a husband. Unknown to them both, their single parents seem to have a history. Getting them married could save all their problems. Only one hitch: they seem to hate each other. Can Beth and Gwen bring their parents together...all while ignoring the budding feelings they seem to have for each other?

💜 I'll admit it: the tagline "a swoon-worthy debut queer Victorian romance" and promise of a "lesbian Bridgerton/Parent Trap" caught my eye. Gwen is a firecracker from her introduction, while Beth is everything you would expect from a demure debut searching for a husband. There's an instant spark from the moment they meet; a subtle yet undeniable chemistry many of us have experienced after meeting our (platonic or romantic) soulmates. Every scene between them is full of energy. They're each other's ideal halves: Gwen is bold, energetic, and as charming as her father, while Beth is sweet, amiable, and reserved. They get into Parent-Trap-style shenanigans with one another while simultaneously bringing out the best in each other. We see Beth's character growth through her time with Gwen as much as we see Gwen grow after meeting Beth.

🦇 It's funny but before reading the plot, both the title and cover reminded me of The Fiancee Farce, which led me to expect something more modern. Despite the story's setting in the Regency period, the writing (everything from the prose and exposition to jokes and attitudes) seems more modern than expected. The only aspect that reminded me of any classic story (like Jane Austen) or recent Regency novel (like Bridgerton) was the pacing. The first 30% of the story drags without the type of messy antics or conflicts that would have driven the story forward. It felt like a modern story dressed up as a Regency period tale. The overlapping plots (the sapphic relationship, Beth searching for a husband, and the Parent-Trapping) aren't weaved together with cohesion that would have helped the pacing. Because of the uneven pacing, the transition from friends to more comes off as sudden instead of a natural progression. The dual third-person limited, present-tense POV was also a strange choice, which made the prose awkward at times.

🦇 Recommended for fans of Bridgerton, Parent Trap, and Victorian romances. There are also a few Swiftie references (for those of you who feel compelled to read a book for that sort of thing).

✨ The Vibes ✨ 🩷 Victorian Era Romance 🩷 Sapphic Romance 🩷 Forbidden Romance 🩷 Friends to Lovers 🩷 Dual POV

⚠️ Content Warnings: Domestic, Emotional, and Physical Abuse; Sexual Content; Sexism; Death of a Parent

🦇 Major thanks to the author and publisher for providing an ARC of this book via Netgalley. 🥰 This does not affect my opinion regarding the book.

[nerdierholler]

Regency vampires and Book of Death!! I would love to hear more!!

Thank you for asking!

The initial worldbuilding for the Regency Vampires is here (fixed link) there's about 15 short posts if you want to know more. WHOOPS the original link was funky and missing stuff. I fixed it.

And I've posted a few things previously for the Psychopomps here.

There's some snippets of both under the cut!

Regency Vampires

TL;DR, In this world, vampires live openly as part of, if not entirely accepted by, upper society and have done so for several centuries. They're bound by strict rules and closely monitored, but of course on the surface everyone is oh so polite. I don't have many scenes for this written but here is the vampire heroine running into a vampire friend at a ball.

“I’m only recently arrived back. A slight wound sent me home earlier than planned.” “I’m sorry to hear that, I hope it was nothing serious.” James rubbed a hand over his shoulder, his face betraying a barest hint of remembered pain. “Nothing of concern and already well on its way to being healed, although I imagine it will leave a scar behind as a reminder.” Bess did her best to hide the concern and surprise that threatened to come to the surface. Those of the kindred did not scar easily, that James mentioned it at all meant it must have been a serious injury. She nodded in unspoken acknowledgement, “I’m glad it was nothing more serious and you have returned to your family. Will you be staying in London for the season while you recover?” “Yes, the family thinks I could use some pleasant diversions after being abroad for so long. They were quite insistent in fact.” Bess understood completely, the Banelfords wanted to parade him before the ton to show the great service their family had provided, in accordance with the charter.

(Psycho)pomps and Circumstance

They really are a bit of a chaos crew. I love them dearly but could never come up with any big plot, it's all slice of life and little conversations. Maybe that's enough? I don't know. I've given up on ever having enough thoughts or ideas to put together for something long. Just not how my writing brain works.

Anywho, Thanatos is the suit wearing middle manager of the bunch with an affinity for coffee, so the coffee shop is usually where he checks on Dani.

“I didn’t think you were going to make it today,” she said. “I’ve had three pickups already this morning and another 12 after.”  They called Dani’s name and she grabbed her coffee, sipping it while Thanatos still waited. “Honestly,” he continued, “I thought about just popping in for a look and a wave but I’m going to need something to get me through the rest of these. Besides, you were already at the front of the line so I didn’t have to wait.” Dani rolled her eyes, “Glad to see where your priorities are.” “Coffee and work are always at the top of the list, you know that.” “I see how it is.” Dani dramatically put a hand to her chest, “Our friendship means nothing. Dear god, you wound me. Is this how I go? A crushed heart?” Thanatos didn’t even pretend to inspect the invisible threat of fate that Dani knew allowed him to see when her death was near. “Not today my good lady.” They called for Thanatos and he grabbed his coffee. He took a long drink and sighed, “Back to work.”

[feeling-asterously-whelmed]

So I want to write a locklyle soulmate au but I don’t really know what style of soulmate au to do. When I read soulmate aus I’m definitely more interested in ones where they have to slowly discover that they are soulmates. So if anyone has any suggestions of one they’d like to see that follows those parameters, I’d greatly appreciate your ideas.

(Also I’m still working on the regency au of the fittes ball scene I just am just struggling since it’s been a very long time since I’ve written anything but that’s still in progress. I’m hoping this will be a bit easier to get the creative juices flowing)

[stephanieburgis]

...And now for a quick rant about the perils of wordcount! (Aren't you glad I have more space here than on Twitter or Mastodon? ;) )

Wordcount is such a lovely, easy metric for writers to track when we're trying to mark progress/finish a book in a reasonable amount of time. But it is a terrible, terrible manager if you let it control your actual writing...and I am way too prone to doing that.

A little while ago, I figured out that if I wanted to finish my current w-i-p (Claws and Contrivances, Book 2 in my Regency Dragons trilogy) as quickly as I'd hoped, I'd have to average 3,000 words a week until the first draft is finished. OK! I can usually manage a pretty steady 500 words a day, so that's not too bad at all...

...Until something comes up, like illness or a plot hurdle or a trip. In the last week, I hit both of those last two issues. First, my nice, steady writing pace slammed to a halt when I came to the point in the book where a big, underlying plot issue finally has to be brought to light, its back story satisfyingly explained...and I realized I still had no idea what the real backstory was. Oops. (The perils of being an exploratory writer in my first drafts!) Sometimes I can figure that kind of moment out on the fly; sometimes I have to really think hard for a while to work it out, and for some reason, this was one of those times when my thoughts got completely snarled up in each other, like a tangled ball of wool.

Second, I was due to head out on a weekend mini break with my older son, which was going to be amazing and also massively energy-intensive (especially with my M.E./CFS). I know there are writers like the late and wonderful Terry Pratchett who religiously hit their planned word counts every day of their lives and put off everything else until later...but (a) M.E./CFS forces me to limit my own activities severely, giving me far less leeway to do other important stuff later, and (b) personally, when I have to choose between my writing and my kids, my kids will always come first, especially while they're both so young.

...which doesn't mean that I don't worry. The truth was, even as I soaked in amazing new experiences and had wonderful parenting moments every day, I also felt low-level guilty All The Time because I wasn't making myself write while we were away. Therefore, I was totally screwing up my wordcount goal...

But guess what? Today I sat down to write for the first time since our trip away...and with my very first cup of coffee, I wrote out the words at the top of my notebook page, "So, what has been going on with Rose's uncle?"

...And the answer was right there! It was waiting for me in my subconscious, helpfully untangled by my back-brain while I was away soaking in new experiences and creative stimulation. I wrote out two swift pages of very thorough notes, and then I wrote 1185 words of the next scene (a nigh-on miraculous amount for me that flowed out as if they'd been only waiting for their chance).

If I'd hammered away at my manuscript, trying stubbornly to hit my planned wordcount without a break over the weekend, not only would I have missed out on a lot of amazing experiences with my kid (which have, btw, already started other new stories simmering in my mental background!), but I also truly don't believe I would have managed to figure out the whole backstory and get as far into the manuscript by today as I have now. Sometimes, our writing-brains just need breaks - time off to putter around unobserved, slowly unsnarling plot tangles. Sometimes, we just need to find a way to get new kinds of creative stimulation to get our stories flowing.

Word count tracking is a nice, satisfying metric, but it's a TERRIBLE and unhelpful line-manager - and I'm passing on this reminder to you in case I'm not the only one who ever forgets this!

Also: have a 21-second video of ocean waves from the beach in Penarth, Wales. I'm so glad I didn't miss them!

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