#oh and the side fic isn't going to be important to the story line

[bokusaka]

so a couple weeks ago i said i was gonna start posting my new fic, but then i got smacked with a really fun idea to go along with it and i've been working on that while also struggling to figure out how i was gonna format it with my new fic. ultimately im deciding that im gonna post it as two separate fics rather than doing like interlude-type chapters with this side stuff. all that to say that i think im finally ready to post the first ch of the fic. i'll probably post chs for the main fic and the short chs for the side fic alternating weeks. expect the first ch for the main fic tomorrow hopefully

[altraviolet]

Oh! I just remembered something about your story I’ve been meaning to ask. I noticed maybe.. 3 times that some bots beginning to explain something to soundwave, and then instead say something like “Ah, you don’t care anyways.” Soundwave always responds in his mind “You don’t know how I feel.” I could be wrong but I don’t think that was ever fully addressed in your story. Like, soundwave just lets it slide. Why exactly? Also even after some people get to know him somewhat they still assume that?

ahhh the "you don't know what i care about" line. one of my favorite recurring threads throughout the fic :D

it's not so much "soundwave just lets it slide," it's that Soundwave Cares About Rodimus, and the three times that line is used, he cannot/will not expose this secret of his to the person he's talking to.

First time:

[Rodimus] “Can I come in?” Soundwave stepped aside. Rodimus slouched on his bed. He looked up at Soundwave. He glanced at the poster of them on Enceladia. His spoiler went down. “You don't care about anything, right?” ?? you don't know what i care about “Well?” “Incorrect. Several... things are important to me.”

Here Soundwave is talking with Rodimus, so he's obviously not going to say anything. It's far too early in the fic for that. The phrase combined with "several things are important to me" is a signal to the reader that Soundwave cares about Rodimus.

Second time:

“That's what I felt during the gray years,” said Drift. He reset his vocalizer. “That's why Rodimus couldn't fix it. He tried so hard to make me happy again. He was so happy when we- I mean, he and I-” Drift's eyes flashed. “Never mind. You wouldn't care.” you don't know what i care about, thought Soundwave as Drift hurried away. His processor chewed on Drift's words, repeating them over and over. “That's why Rodimus couldn't fix it. That's why Rodimus couldn't fix it.”

Here Soundwave is talking to Drift, and he's extremely not going to tell Drift what he cares about.

Side note: these paragraphs tie up the gray years from Soundwave's point of view. The reason Rodimus couldn't fix Drift's hurt is because Drift didn't love him the way he loved Ratchet. The only thing that would've made Drift feel better is Ratchet.

Third time:

Swerve held up the data pad and whistled. “Wow, there's a lot of really specific requests on here. Things I haven't served since...” His gaze moved to a model replica of the Lost Light behind the bar, surrounded by a few dusty, empty bottles. “Since... never mind. You won't care.” you don't know what i care about

Here Soundwave is talking to 0001 Swerve back in the 0001 dimension. He wouldn't waste his time correcting Swerve's assertion. Swerve assumes Soundwave wouldn't care about the Lost Light. He does, but he can't say why without having to answer a ton of questions. Also, shortly after he spots 0001 Rodimus. There's no reason to engage in conversation with this Swerve, whom he will never see again.

Another side note: Soundwave stating openly to himself that he cares about something, in defiance of assured statements by other characters, shows how he's changed since the very beginning.

So this isn't an unaddressed, loose thread. It's a deliberate demonstration of Soundwave's character change and a realistic portrayal of how he would react in those situations: he often defaults to silence.

[princess-glassred]

⚡️STOZIER FREAKY FRIDAY AU ⚡️

Freaky Friday is one of my fav movies and bodyswaps in general are one of my fav story tropes ever, so I decided why not make a Stozier bodyswap since I'd already done one for Eddie and Henry. :>

I was going to make this a fic but i don't have the energy for this so here's just the entire plot of this au told through bullet points. *shrug*

This au is dedicated to @cwcthzl because they are literally the god of stozier and the only reason i'm into this ship at all. I hope you like it :).

•This AU starts with the Losers as teenagers just living their lives, they've all got big things going on and it's made the losers feel a little strained lately, but no two losers are more at odds than Stan and Richie.

•Richie and Stan have been at each others throats a lot lately, with Stan being so high strung from recent events that he's found Richie usual annoyingly endearing demeanor just plain annoying and Richie finding Stan's straight laced no funness like a roadblock.

•It's hard to say that Richie and Stan dislike each other now, they are still very much friends, but it's more like... they don't understand each other. Stan knows Richie can be so bright and insightful but for some reason he prefers to come off as a lazy dumbass, while Richie knows Stan can be so fun but he's oddly deadset on coming off as Mr. Perfect all the time. It's not ideal.

•As said before everyone is very busy with their personal lives, Richie is not only dating Connor Bowers and very intent on making the relationship as perfect as possible, but he's also scheduled to have his first real comedy act televised on tv as a line up of other comics. Stan's got a scholarship interview that he HAS to get or else he'll be fucked cause his parents are broke. He also absolutely needs this jamboree to go off with out a hitch because his poor troop has literally never won a jamboree before and if he doesn't win this year his parents are going to make him quit and start focusing on other stuff. Of course Stan would rather die than let that happen, especially since he's the oldest in the troop and the newbies are relying on him to teach them everything.

•These events, however, cause a major divide between Stanley, Richie, and the rest of the losers club when they turn out to be happening at the same exact time. It wouldn't be so bad if Stan and Rich could just be adults about this but they insist they need their friends support for their big day and refuse ro cooperate otherwise. Stan thinks he needs the lucky seven to give him the extra boosts to win while Richie thinks he needs the lucky seven to ease his anxiety while he's on stage. When the rest of the club outright refuse to pick sides in this petty arguement it makes both Stan and Rich unbelievably pissed with each other. They argue in circles over who's event is more important, who has a better chance of actually succeeding, and most importantly of all- who's fault it is that now none of their friends are going to show up.

•The losers try to have a little celebratory dinner for Richie at the jade of the orient but it goes south very quickly. Stanley cannot stand how richie drools over his boyfriend connor and richie can't stan stanley's passive agressive nature. That's when one of the hostesses takes notice of them and swaps out their fortune cookies on the table for two special ones.

•The conversation gets so heated that Stanley awkwardly shuffles off to the bathroom and Richie follows to continue their argument.

•"Seriously Stanley!? What's wrong with you? You're whining about a boy scout jamboree?" "It's not about that! It's the fact you're being selfish!" "I'm being selfish!?" "You're always seflish Richie! All day every day is always about you and what you want! You don't even do anything to deserve it!" "You're right Stanley, i'm sorry i'm so lazy and annoying that i'm the one thing about your life that isn't perfect!" "Perfect? You think my life is perfect!? Oh buddy you need a serious reality check!" "Well It's not my fault whatever i have going on is always more interesting." "You know what richie? I wish you could spend just ONE DAY in my shoes and see how "interesting" it was. Maybe then you could learn a thing or two about responsibilty!" "I'd love to be you Stanley, all i'd have to do is just sit around and complain about everything 24/7. Lord knows I could use a break." "A break? From what? Making goo goo eyes at connor and shouting unfunny quips into a microphone! I'd love it if that was my biggest problem!" "I wish you'd change!" "I wish YOU'D change!".

•Richie and Stan march out of the restaurant and on their seperate ways, only making the rest of the losers even more concerned. On their respective walks home they realize they still have their unopened fortune cookies and crack them open. It simply says "It'd pay you well to walk a mile in someone else's shoes". Suddenly Richie and stan both feel a little tingle, but they don't notice it enough to freak out over it. They stuff their fortunes into their pockets and keep walking.

•The next morning Richie wakes up in Stan's bedroom. He doesn't fully understand why he's there yet but when he looks in the mirror he shrieks. Staring back at him is Stan plain as day, which could only mean he is Stan now.

•It's fairly early in the morning, so he has time to go check on Stan at his house before the day gets really started. He politely knocks on the front door.

•"Oh hi Stanley." Maggie says with a smile. Her look of vague recognition and pleasantness deeply hurts richie. She's  looking at him the same way you'd look at a friendly stranger, not her son.

•"Hello mo- Mrs. Tozier. Is Richie up?" "He should be, I heard him banging around up stairs like he always does. Why do you ask?". "Well we had a fight at the Jade of the orient last night and I was worried." "That's sweet of you, i'll let you two talk it out.".

•Richie, or rather Stanley, walks upstairs to his bedroom and politely enters. Poor Stan is curled up in the corner of the room covered in bruises and crying. He couldn't see when he woke up, and what little he could see in his blurry vision was unfamiliar in color and size. He kept running into things all around the room and accidentally hurting himself, he's very clearly upset and confused.

•Richie picks up his glasses from his bed side table, briefly considering that it's lucky stan didn't accidentally break them when he was fumbling around, and carefully puts them on Stan so he can see.

•Stan shrieks when he sees himself standing in front of him and immediately scrambles to the other side of the room.

•"Stan it's me, Richie-" "-No-" "i'm richie!" "-NO! You're some freaky demon thing that's come to steal my face" "pffft. You just said cum." "Holy fuck you are Richie."

•Stan and Rich run over to Richie's mirror and begin to mess around with it.

•"Jeez stan, why is your hair so curly and floppy- if i were you- i mean like, if every day i were you, i'd wear hair net 24/7" "Richie your tongue is so long, my tongue isn't that long!" "Heh, that's what she said." "....who's "she"?".

•They start freaking out and wondering how this even happened, and it's only until Stan points out they both have really important things going on that they understand just how fucked they are.

•Just then, Maggie knocks on the door. "Stan?"

•"Yes?" They both ask.

•"Your parents are here to take you to the synagogue."

•Fuuuuuuuuuuckkk.

•"Richie, we have to open the door." "Actually I think we can just live in here-" "Richie, open the door." "We can hide under the bed-" "I'm opening the door." "STAN WAIT NO I HAVE NAIL POLISH WE CAN PAINT EACH OTHERS NAILS- Hiiii.... mom and dad.".

•Donald and Andrea are not very happy to see their son flee their house early in the morning, and when they ask for an explanation richie is frozen still, so stan has to explain for him.

•Stan nudges Richie so he'll have to say something, but the best richie can come up with is "Can you guys let us chill for a sec?", which makes Stan cringe so fuckin hard.

•They're allowed some privacy which is when Richie finally realizes he and Stan are in a freaky friday situation, at which point stan points out that it's actually Sunday and he's never seen that movie. Richie has the very natural reaction of almost screaming his head off when he finds out Stan's never seen freaky friday.

•They realize they have to pretend to be each other because they have too much important shit going on, Richie has to practice for the show tonight, Stan has to speak at the synagogue, Richie's got a date with Connor he CAN'T cancel (connor gets really mad when richie cancels), Stan has to have lunch with a college admissions guy to get his scholarship, Richie has to do his stand up on tv, and Stan's got the jamboree at sundown. They only have a few hours when they're not busy so they have to commit or they're both screwed.

•Richie brags that this will be a breeze since acting like Stan can't be that hard. Just act like you have a stick up your ass 24/7 and nitpick your surroundings. Stan in turn says that acting like richie will be totally easy because "at least i don't have to worry about being funny".

•The day is, unsurprisingly, a total nightmare.

•Richie's speech at the synagogue is total shit, he gets so flustered he just takes the plot of The Goonies and retells it as if that's some inspirational story he thought up and everyone miraculously buys it.

•Stan nervously waits outside the synagogue for his parents and Richie. He asks him how he did and richies all "great!... i think i accidentally said you had a weed addiction at some point but the congregation thought you were stronger for it so it all worked out.".

•Connor swings by to pick up Richie for their date. Richie had to act like he's not into it at all and poor stan has to act like he's very into it. It does not go well.

•Stan also hates the outfit he has to wear to the date, who the fuck wears a hawaiin shirt and jorts to a restaurant? Also holding onto richie's stupid coke bottle glasses is way harder than he though, no wonder he always breaks them.

•The actual date is surprisingly easy to navigate because Connor doesn't ask stan a lot of questions about richie. In fact... he doesn't ask any questions about Richie. Almost like he'd be happy asking questions to anything and it didn't matter if richie was here or not.

•"Uhm, excuse me- Connor darling- you've been talking for a while." "Yes? And?" "Well it's just that I figured you'd wanna hear about what i've got going on." "Later Rich." "You say later, but i fear that's just a fancy way of saying never." "Well it's not my fault whatever i've got going on is a lot more interesting than what you do".

•Stanley winces. Was that why Richie said what he did at the restaurant? He was internalizing was this asshole said to him? That's horrible.

•"My life is interesting, I work hard and I have a big gig coming up, don't you care about that?" "Yeah yeah yeah, it's cute." "Cute? It's a major milestone for me and that's all you can say?" "Jesus Richie, you sound so insufferable today. You've got a real mouth on you, what happened to the guy who hung on my every word and worshipped my feet? You used to he so easy and now you're pulling out these big words." "I'm actually kind of smart connor, i'm not stupid just because i listen to you. I'm a straight A student!" "Yeah but... that's not the same as being ACTUALLY smart." "But I am smart" "Yeah, you sure dress and act like it.".

•Stan bites his tongue and clenches his fists, seething.

•He never knew someone could feel so dismissed just based on how they dressed and behaved. It felt deeply wrong to sit here and have every smart thing you say be dismisses because you were wearing a hawaiian shirt and dared to do silly voiced every once in a while. Why didn't anyone wanna take Stan seriously like this, not even his supposed boyfriend? Is this how Richie feels every day?

•Connor moves into kiss him.

•Stan punches him square in the jaw.

•Meanwhile Richie gets ready for a fancy pants lunch to discuss his potential scholarship, a lunch he is late for because he cannot figure out how to tie a bowtie.

•The dinner is obscenely awkward, the college admissions guy is asking Richie all these questions about finance and he doesn't know how to actually answer him which is crazy because his school record shows he's very good at all of this. His parents insists it's just nerves though, their little Stanley is perfect.

•Richie does his usual of trying to use humor to deflect from his pain, but it just kinda annoys his parents who can't stand it.

•Richie feels absolutely heart broken that there's all this serious adult talk going on around him that he's just supposed to accept and understand. His parents don't pause to explain anything to him, they just accept that he's a mini adult that doesn't require any extra attention, even though he's clearly terrified and struggling. Dear god, does Stan feel like this every day?

•He ends up acting kind of crazy, it's not really Richie's fault though. It's more Stan's parents fault for insisting he tell stories he was never there for, basically forcing him to make up stuff on the fly. Richie's natural mannerisms also don't help things at all, he talks totally different to Stan- a lot of accidental curse words and rambles and nervous laughs in between words. Stan talks with purpose, like every word he says counts and if he doesn't have a reason to talk he'll stay in his own head. Richie talks without thinking a lot, so unfortunately the lunch consists of a lot of word vomit.

•Ultimately, Richie walks away from the lunch with his "parents" feeling like he failed Stan and embarrassed both of them.

•When Stan head's off for rehearsal he's extremely early to the building, as per Richie's request. Maggie and Wentworth are there to help him rehearse but that proves to be less than helpful for poor Stan. Richie is very dedicated to being a comedian, to the point he practices for much longer than your average stand up act, and he takes way less breaks. Maggie and Went have been told multiple times by Richie that they have to push him to the limit so in their vye to be supportive they accidentally don't allow Stanley breaks or time outs between sets.

•Stan also finds saying Richie's material very humiliating, he has to try to do voices he's never attempted before, recite cringey dialouge, and pretend like he finds hid own really stupid jokes comedy gold. Stan knows he has a strange sense of humor no one else understands, and that seems to have leaked into his delivery of richie's monolouges. He appearently lacks the ability to just deliver words like they're funnt.

•Maggie and Went lie though and say he's doing great, which makes Stan with his own parents, despite his love for them, would have the same unconditional support for him.

•Richie and Stan meet up at around 2 o' clock to discuss how everything went and their conversation doesn't go great.

•Richie feels awful for screwing up Stan's future and Stan feels tired and drained from the endless practice. When Stanley reveals that he punched Connor in the face Richie loses it. "You punched him!? And he dumped me!? Stanley are you crazy!?" "Really Richie!? You're mad right now abour losing your boyfriend!? I might not get to go to college at all because of you now!" "Don't you think I know that!? Oh what am I saying? Of course you don't! You think i'm stupid just like everyone else!".

•Richie defeatedly sits down on the side of the robe and unties his shittily done tie with tears in his eyes. He pulls his legs up to his chest.

•"I'm sorry Stanley. I tried my best. I really tried. I guess even when i'm you i'm a total mess..."

•Stanley sits down beside him and sighs. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to blame you for that. This is is a scary time for both of us...".

•"...Connor didn't really care about me, did he?" "no, Richie, he didn't".

•"I guess that's one little silver lining to all of this. Lord knows i wouldn't have been able to stand up to him myself..." "Why were you even with him at all?" "Because- I liked knowing somebody loved me, even if it was all fake." "Oh Richie, you deserve a lot better than that.".

•Stan and Richie wanna sulk on the side of the road some more but then they see Bill run down the street after them like it was urgent and they have to see what his deal is.

•"Stan! Rich! B-boy, am i glad I found you. There's s-something happening at school! You have to sssseee it!"

•They race to the school but when they get there everything's fine.

•"What gives you guys? What's the problem?"

•all of the losers point at a sign in front of the school that usually says "CURFEW 7 PM" but now says "OPEN GUIDANCE COUNSELING SUN 1 PM-4 PM".

•"YOU SAID THERE WAS A CRISIS!" "YOUR FRIENDSHIP IS IN CRISIS!"

•Richie and Stan plead with their friends that they're fine but their insistance is not heard, so they are practically shoved into the guidance counselors office.

•It might have been a decent idea if the guidance counselor didn't allow a bunch of their teachers to sit in on their conversation.

•Stan and Richie start out by jokingly insulting each other and making it so like they're confessing. Richie even said he's got ultra violent tendencies then whispered "I punched my friends boyfriend in the face" to the counselor.

•The counselor suggests they try roleplaying as one another to work out their issues and ofc Stan and Richie just look at him like -_- "no.".

•Slowly the talk gets more and more serious though, and when the teachers start psychoanalyzing the boys they quickly swap from insulting each other to standing up for one another. When the teachers say that Richie is unfocused and brash and idiotic, Stan stands up for ""himself"" and says he's just got a different way of communicating his feelings. And when the teachers say Stan is a worrisome sad sack in class Richie stands up and says "I have a lot going on to be upset about! I'm sorry I'm not happy all the time! Some people don't feel the need to lie when they're unhappy, and I think that's a wonderful quality!"

•Stan and Richie leave the counselors office arm and arm, feeling confident and happy with one another, happier with each othe

•Rich assumes the boyscout jamboree will probably be a cake walk for him and Stan's dedication to it is more of Stan just being Stan. He is very wrong.

•Stan's troop are a lot like the losers club themselves, a bunch of rejects that nobody wants to look out for and somehow manage to make straightlaced Stan look like the cool badass leader. They can't accomplish a god damn thing, and Richie nearly tears stan's hair out over it.

•The Jamboree judge and organizer is literally insane. He is a grown ass man who absolutely peaked in high school and has decided to take out all his roid rage on unsuspecting scouts. He makes Bev's dad look tame and Henry's father look sane. He's a fucker, plain and simple.

•The jamboree is also not what Richie expected at all. When he heard the words "jamboree" he expected people sitting around a campfire singing songs and having a good time. Not VIOLENTLY INTENSE ATHLETIC COMPETITION. Maybe it would be like the latter if it wasn't ran by a a fucking crazy person, but evidently it isn't. So suck it up, play the impossible trivia, make a mona lisa out of macaroni and glue, and run a military grade obstacle course in five minutes, bitch.

•Eventually, Richie is tasked with doing a bird call and he can't even whistle in his normal body so.... yeah.

•He is also asked to tie a scoutmans knot. Richie didn't even learn how to tie his shoes until he was 10, so again... yeah.

•He's absolutely exhausted from the obstacle course, his legs straight up feel like they are going to combust and when Richie dares to stop running for a second he gets a scream through megaphone into his ear.

•He does not end up winning the jamboree for Stan BUT he does end up getting the event cancelled when he does the unthinkable and stands up to that jerkwad judge. He goes full trashmouth and roasts the crap out of him, igniting a chain reaction of kids and troop leaders stand up and realizing this shit is not normal and leaving midway through the event.

•Richie rushes through town to get to the location he's supposed to be preforming at and manages to sneak in by pretending to be a tech guy. He runs into the backstage area and sees Stan utterly paralyzed by cameras and audience members, terrified to even make a noise.

•He notices Richie standing off to the side and bolts off stage to talk to him, prompting the audience to laugh like it was an elaborate bit.

•"Richie I can't do this! That was horrifying!" "No no no! What about practice!?" "I think I blocked that out due to trauma" "Fuck- oh! I know!". Richie takes a spare ear piece off the table and puts it on stan.

•"I've been practicing that stand up for weeks, i can feed it through to you and you can just repeat it in a funny way!" "No no! I can't even do that!" "Oh my god stan, don't tell me you've never seen a stand up special before!" "Uhhh I saw Eddie Murphey on tv once?" "Great! Just go out there and act like Eddie!" "Right... Murphy, not Kaspbrak right?" "Oh my god yes! Now go before the audience thinks there's something wrong with you!".

•Stan does it and it surprisngly gets easier and easier the more jokes he tells. It helps that the crowd is fairly drunk, but he's got the cadence down pat. When the set is over he proudly takes a bow and runs back to Richie for a high five.

•"That was awesome Stan!" "And a cool inverse of tropes cause... ya know, most comedy writers are jewish." "Was that an attempt at an original joke?" "...yeah." "...i love it, no notes.".

•after a little while stan and richie determine that this all started from those fuckin fortune cookies and they rush home to get their fortunes they didn't throw away yet. They stand in the exact spots they were in when they wished the other would change, holding onto their fortunes.

•but... nothing happens.

•They don't understand. They did everything right, they saw the world through one anothers eyes. They walked a mile in their shoes. They learned important stuff. Why aren't they changing back.

•"Oh god. Stanley... what if this means.. we CAN'T switch back. What if one day is now every day, and we're stuck like this forever?" "Please no..." "Stanley if I had known that I swear i would have never wished for this." "We both wished for this Richie, it's not just your fault. We both fucked up. We both ruined each other's lives." "Stanley I'm scared." "I know... I'm scared to.".

•They determine that if they're really stuck like this then they have to tell the losers, which is going to be extremely hard but at least they can comfort each other while it happens.

•Richie prefaces what he's about to say by saying he's been an over dramatic asshole, mostly because he had his own issues he wasn't properly dealing with. He just wants to say that he's sorry and that he loves all of them no matter what.

•Suddenly, Stanley and Richie both feel a tingle, oddly similar to what they felt when they first opened their fortune cookies.

•"Richie, can you say that again?" "I love you and I'm sorry?"

•Another tingle

•Stanley knows what they have to do now, they had learned but they'd never apologized. They never admitted how they felt, and that was what this was all about, so of course they didn't switch back.

•"Richie, listen to me. I love you more than anything, I love your messy hair, I love your stupid glasses, i love your ugly shirts and silly jokes and every dumb thing that comes out of your mouth. You're one of my bestfriends and I treated you like you weren't. I'm saying this now though, I love you no matter what and whatever makes you happy is what I want for you. You're worth more than I could ever properly say, and I'm sorry I lost sight of that.".

•Richie starts crying.

•"I'm sorry I didn't listen Stanley, i'm sorry i projected onto you and tried to make your problems seem insignificant. I was such an asshole and you don't deserve that, you're fun and wonderful and interesting in your own way. I know because I think you're fun and interesting. I love you, and I wished I never hurt you".

•TINGLE TINGLE TINGLE

•BOOM

•Stan looks down at his hands, Richie looks down at his legs. Yep. They're back.

•They hug each other tightly, tears in their eyes.

•"Stanley, i'm so sorry." "You should never, don't be sorry" "if you thought I didn't care about you-" "Don't say that. I know you do. I know you do and I love it.".

•The losers watch this unfold in confusion. When bill asks if they missed anything stan and richie just tell them not to worry about it.

•Funnily enough, everything turned out just fine in the end, and it was ironically because of the body swap fiasco. The crowd LOVED Stanley's awkwardly relatable stand up, and the beginning gag where he ran off the stage was simply divine. And the college admissions? Richie's curt attitude and spontaneity made him stand out in a good way! He got a full ride, appearently they thought he was one of those mad genius types. Woohoo! And Connor? Richie dumped his ass all thanks to Stan's encouragement. And the boy scouts? They held another jamboree a week later that was fair and actually fun, and guess what? All the losers showed up to support him! And he won! Fuck yeah!

•And they all lived happily ever after... or at least until Bill and Eddie got into an argument at jade of the orient in their 20's, but that's a story for another time ;).

•The end.

[paula-in-dreamland]

Fanfic writer interview

Thank you @errruvande for the tag!! :))

My AO3

How many work do u have on AO3?

Officially 3 - 1 in-progress multichapter, 2 "one-shots" (cause I'll probs expand eventually)

What's your total AO3 word count?

~42k (estimate cause some the stuff being counted towards the word count are from nav pages in the fic)

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes

I mean if we included ff.net in this...that would be completely different. But we are not. So it's literally the three I've posted:

1. A Game of Revenge and Loyalty (HG AU, Sigtryggr x Stiorra centric) 2. Some News Isn't Meant To Be Shared (Canon Universe, canon divergence, Sigtryggr x Stiorra) 3. Vorres Lille Dukke (Vampire AU, Sigtryggr x Stiorra x Reader)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, or at least I try too! I think it's important to engage with your readers when possible to not only thank them but also because engaging with someone about you work is fun! I've been dying to talk to people about my fics so you better believe I am going to take the opportunity when it comes! It's why I post them in the first place!

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Maybe Some News Isn't Meant to Be Shared ?? Cause it is fluff, but if you read between the lines and think about what transpires in S5 after that moment...yeah. Angsty/Whumpy as fuck. Other than that, I have yet to write something with a truly angsty ending. Unless you include one of abandoned WIPs on ff.net.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

I have a bunch of WIPs with truly happy endings that I'll eventually write/post. Very romcom. Very sweet. As for current? LOL I guess Vorres Lille Dukke ...

Do you write crossovers?

A true crossover where characters from two different fandoms interact? No. But, I have done crossover AUs by putting TLK characters in those universes (a la my Hunger Games fic). And, I guess, you consider some of my fics crossovers in that I draw from Vikings and TLK when worldbuilding. Like Sigtryggr (and Stiorra but we ignore that in modern aus) is descended from Ragnar Lothbrok. So, I tend to draw from that show for depictions of those characters.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not on AO3. But, on ff.net over ten years ago. Broke me. I was 14, 15? Posted my first multi chapter fic. Within the prose, I had littered ANs throughout it rather than keeping it to the beginning and end. Why did I do that? Because I'd see a few other fics in the fandom do it so I figured it was the norm as I was a newbie to writing/fic writing. I think they also had a few other things to say. I end up eventually taking the fic down, and now I think it's fully gone as I don't have it on my laptop anywhere :/ But yeah. Be nice to fic writers. English could be their second/third/fourth language. They could be a preteen or a teenager. They could just be starting out.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

HA. HAHAHAHAHA. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH. Yes. It's mostly M/F. Just recently M/F/F for the first time. As I work through my WIPs, also exploring kinks a bit more. So, more on the vanilla side.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope. Don't think so.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I think someone reached out to me on ff.net to translate one of my fics from ages ago? Have had people ask to print them out before! But not on AO3 (yet)

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Okay I VAGUELY remember maybe doing it, or starting to do it 10+ years ago? But I also use to be an avid RPer on here, so uh...yeah we co-wrote a lot of fics that way ;)

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Oh fuck you can't ask me that. *pulls open junk closet door and gets covered in characters/ships* *Proceeds to grab one at random, then sticks arm out from pile* UH!?!?! THIS ONE?! *holds up Rosalie and Emmett from Twilight*

No, but like in all seriousness: 1. Rosalie/Emmett 2. Stiorra/Sigtryggr 3. Padme/Anakin 4. Kim/Tommy 5. Caroline/Klaus & loads more.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

So, I am really hoping I get to all my WIPs for Sigtryggr/Stiorra because I love them and want to put them in all the scenarios. As for past fandoms/dormant fandoms, I don't think there are any that I want to finish, more so ones that I wish I had given more time too? And now it's too late cause I did not leave myself detailed enough plot notes to trigger my memory? Nor got that far in the first place?

What are your writing strengths?

I think I write some kickass dialogue. I also think I'm decent at writing scenery.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Introspection. is. so. hard. And being concise. And you know...allowing subtext to speak for itself instead of telling the reader directly.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think it's awesome! But, it can make reading hard if you're not familiar with the language as you have to scroll down to find out what the hell they are saying if it's more than a few words. I also personally think you should stick to languages you actually know/have studied unless it's like a tiny little phrase/nickname. Or, ask someone who actually speaks the language. Because google translate is not reliable lol.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

None currently. But did consider writing a reader fic for Bleach at one point lmao.

What's your favorite fic you've written?

I don't have a favorite because the one that would probably be my fave isn't written yet ;) But, I tend to like all of my fics even the poorly written ones from when I was 14/15.

Tagging: @azriona @holy3cake @ladyaldhelm @whitedarkmoonflower @gemini-mama and anyone else who writes :)

[dramionediscussion]

Can we talk about fic pet peeves?

I want to make it clear that this is not about a specific fic or author, but just some things I've seen in this fandom over the years. I've been reading Dramione for almost 15 years now and there are so many things that authors include that have become a pet peeve of mine.

This is not just exclusive to Dramione though, I have dabbled in other HP pairs before (e.g., Hansy, Theomione) and other fandoms (Gossip Girl, Elementary), and I have seen the same things there. I also have definitely come across some of these in published romance novels.

But this is a Dramione blog, so I will talk about them in context to this pairing.

Men being the cause of the breakup. So many times it's always Draco who messes up or says something horrible or doesn't "do enough". He is the one who has to repent and beg for forgiveness. Very rarely do you see a fic where Hermione is the one who is wrong and needs to apologize. And even when she does, it's always Draco who cuts her off and spins it around and makes him the bad guy who caused Hermione to be that way, and she doesn't actually have to work hard for forgiveness. Just a simple "I'm sorry" and he then says "no no, it's me....".

Having more than one conflict in a fic. Halfway through a story, the pair will have a major fight, which causes them to part. You then have a few chapters of them reflecting and then talking and making up. Then towards the last quarter of the fic, something comes up again and the characters react in the same way as before. You would think that they would have learned from the previous argument and not jump to conclusions and actually communicate. It feels like we are taking one step forward and 5 steps back. Why was this necessary? Why show your characters acting this way and show that they did not grow as people?

Focusing on so many other characters. I get that ensemble fics are a thing, but you need to say that in the beginning. You cannot just tag Draco and Hermione as the pairing, and then 5 chapters in, half the page is Harry and Ginny dialogue with no mention of the main pair. Let people know these things.

Speaking of other pairs, you need to tell your readers if you are gonna include scenes of Draco or Hermione having sex with other people. You need to tag these side pairings and say that we will read explicit scenes with Ron or Astoria or someone. We came for Draco and Hermione smut, not Ron or Pansy or Astoria or Viktor.

Since we are on the topic of tags. TAG ALL YOUR WARNINGS! So many times authors don't tag Rape/Non-Con!! Tag pregnancy difficulties, tag character deaths, tag the non-Dramione endings, tag violence, tag blood and gore, and tag any and all kink. Just tag things, it doesn't spoil the fic for people. Letting people know about things that may trigger them is not spoiling, it's human decency to let us know what your fic will entail.

Hermione's parents not being in the fic. Now I know Hermione sent her parents away before the war, but so many times you read about her not going back for them, not being able to retrieve their memory, then not wanting to be part of her life because of what she did. I understand it if this is a part of the fic, Hermione essentially grieving the loss of her parents. But what I have noticed is that most times author just have a throwaway line that her parents are not in her life, and it seems like it's not a big deal. Like oh well Hermione's mother is non-existent, but hey she has Molly now! Hermione's parents are not important in the HP canon, and it seems like authors feel the same, which is sad.

Molly being the matriarch of the trio. In canon, she kind of is because the stories are from Harry's perspective and he encounters the Weasleys and ingrains himself with their family, but she is always portrayed this way in fanfiction as well. As I mentioned in the previous comment, Hermione's mother isn't there so authors make Molly the mother figure for her, which is fine but authors make their relationship closer than what canon implies. But Draco also has a mother and most times we see Molly in the story more than Narcissa. I would assume that Narcissa would be the matriarch of that fic rather than Molly in a Dramione.

Harry and Ron being too involved in Hermione's life. Again this is fine, but it does get annoying to see fic after fic of them butting too much into her life and getting angry when she makes her own decisions. Friends should not try to control you, but guide and offer advice and be there if you fail.

Hermione not having friends outside of Harry and the Weasleys. I would assume that as they got older and got into the real world, they would meet new people and make new friends, not only stick to the same people they knew since they were 11. The Wizarding World is small, but we do have so many other characters in canon that you can use, it's okay to have Hermione become best friends with Padma, Luna, or Dean. You can have Draco even becoming bffs with Neville. He too is always stuck with Blaise or Theo and Pansy. Sometimes he doesn't have any friends and the fic only shows Hermione's friends.

If a fic starts off with Draco and Hermione having a relationship with another person, the breakup is always a bad one. People in real life have amicable breakups with their partners, it doesn't always have screaming and yelling and hatred. Most times this is used as a catalyst for the drama in a fic, but I would like to read a fic where Ron stays friends with Hermione and listens to her when she is talking about Draco, him offering advice or teasing her about a crush. It would be nice to see Astoria and Draco doing the same. And I say this as a huge "Ron Weasley Bashing" fan.

Hermione not knowing about fashion and makeup and having to rely on Ginny for help to get read for a date. Nowhere in canon does it claim that Hermione is like this, so how is this a common trope? I think this feeds into the "Hermione is not like other girls trope".

Hermione being the Brightest Witch of Her Age. In canon this is not a real thing, it is not an honorific that was bestowed on her by some sort of higher authority. It was something Harry and Remus said, it was their opinion. So having multiple people in a fic say this as though it is a proper title given to her annoys me honestly. Because when this happens, the fic always tends to have her being the only one who can solve the problem. So many people came before her and weren't able to do this particular thing, but Hermione somehow accomplished it without much help, with just a few books and at the ripe age of 24! These types of fics tend to have their characters fresh out of Hogwarts, so they are young but are able to become Heads of Departments! Can you imagine the 30/40-something-year-old who has been working for over 10/15 years in the ministry thinking it's only a matter of time before they get promoted to senior status, then suddenly this 20-year-old who just finished school walks in and gets the highest position without any experience or further education? I'd riot!

Draco not having a job. Many times fics have Hermione working hard in her career, but Draco is "in the family business" or "does investments". What does this mean???

Hermione being a virgin while Draco is the sex god. This trope feels sexist.

Hermione not doing anything muggle. This is similar to Harry in canon. It feels like Hermione forgot where she came from, and she doesn't care to go into the muggle world, or take Draco there.

Draco being obsessed with Hermione. Sometimes fics make his whole life revolve around her.

Luna being seen as weird. After all she has done and all she has shown to people that she is a smart, brave, very important friend to the trio, we still have scenes where Hermione and her friends make fun of Luna and her creatures. That is just rude.

This is all I can think of at the moment. I know this is a lot, but I kind of stopped reading fics for a while and as I managed Dramioneasks during this time, I would see new fics and just add them to my bookmarks. So I am now catching up on those fics and I feel like I am reading the same stuff over and over. Same tropes, same themes, same personalities, which is not a bad thing but it does give rise to pet peeves and thinking about older fics and how things haven't really changed over the last 15 years or so of my dramione life.

Again this is not from one fic or one author, but multiple fics and authors I have read over the years. Some of the fics I think are 5 stars have these pet peeves in them.

Do you guys agree with these? Do you have more to add? Leave them in the comments or send us a message. I would love to discuss and rant with you!

-Lisa

[essayofthoughts]

On wastes of time

There's this recurring thing where people can't tell me what's so cool or important about this show they want me to watch or book they want me to read or podcast they want me to listen to and I know summarising is a skill, but it's also really important if you want to get people into things.

Because currently? Currently what we have drives me nuts. We get "Oh, it's gay!" or some obfuscating description that tells us nothing, or "it's so good i promise" and that isn't enough!

Okay, it's gay. I can go to AO3 for queer fic, I have queer books I know are good, podcasts, shows, etc.. I've been rereading a series where most of the main cast are from a non-human culture where queerness is normal and gender roles are flipped around. Tell me why I should care about this one. Gay is not a genre - is it horror, mystery, romance, fantasy, sci-fi? Is the queerness the whole plot or is it incidental? (Because, and I'll be honest, if the queerness is the whole plot, I will not be interested - some may! But not me.)

"read about this perfectly normal thing!" - well, obviously there's something not normal about it or else you wouldn't be writing about it. Is it an SCP kind of obsessively Normal thing in a way that's eerie and unnerving? A horror story? That could be cool. Is the weird coming from people investigating it, or around it? Does something strange happen to it? Is the thing entirely normal but it's just the setting and the story is about people around it or involved in it? I don't fucking know. You haven't told me.

Okay, so it's good. It makes you yell and feel emotions. What emotions. Why? What invokes the emotions? Why do you enjoy it? What bits stood out, what made it interesting to you? What might draw someone else in?

Back when everyone went feral over the Locked Tomb, I didn't get it. Goth Space Lesbians, okay. That's a cool art piece, maybe a stained glass window, but it's not a story.

You know what got me to read it? A post talking about the swimming pool confession.

That? That cut to the heart of messy interpersonal dynamics that indicated a lot of tension between the characters, a lot of nuance to the dynamics and things which, done right, I could find compelling. It showed history, it showed thought, it showed messy, flawed characters who still had morals and guilt and lines even they wouldn't cross within their rivalry, it showed a trust within their rivalry that they knew where they stood with each other even if that was at knifepoint. It made me curious.

I ultimately didn't really care for Locked Tomb, but that's fine. Sometimes you bounce off something, and it just wasn't my kind of jam. But that one post? That gave me a glimpse. That made me curious enough to try.

But a lot of summaries and attempts to make people start something new I've seen lately? Skip that step. Skip making people curious. Just say "HEY LOOK AT THIS" without ever giving a reason. And I get you may want to avoid spoilers, or go in blind, or avoid giving the plot away but...

What counts as spoilers? How blind should you go in? And does this give away the whole plot, or just that there is one? The kind of genre and tropes that might be in play?

If you tell people nothing, then you've given them a blank wall. It could be thin as paper - easy to step through and see what's on the other side, but if it looks like a blank wall, why would they bother? You have to provide a doorway - something they can look through, and catch a glimpse of what's on the other side. Something that makes them want to step through and see more.

You want people curious. You want people interested. You need to answer just enough questions to make them want to discover more for themselves.

If you want me to spend my time reading/watching/listening to something, then I have to know it's worth my time.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

I'm interested in reading your hp fics, but I don't know where to start. The lily fics seem really varied and like there were some epileptic plot trees and nonlinear progression going on, from what I can tell looking through the story collection on AO3. Is there anything like a recommended reading order or core selection of stories within that set you'd advise if I wanted to get in on your particular brand of HP heresy?

Oh man, you ask the question of the hour.

This has actually been the subject of hot debate before.

How it Works in General

On Ao3 my HP fics are divided into series. Generally, the first fic of any series can be thought of as the "main" story. You should only have to read that particular fic to understand what's happening in the story itself.

If the story isn't part of a series, it's solitary and you're good on your own, if it's Xth in a series, you should read the fic in position 1 first. If it's part of multiple series, then that means you should read both fics in position 1 in order to understand what's happening.

(In the case of "Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus" reach out to me for getting a copy, for reasons I won't get into in this post I took it down.)

So, for example, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, October, and Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus are all independent of one another, you don't have to read one to get the other, Minato Namikaze and the Destroyer of Worlds on the other hand being a sub series of Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus will probably make more sense if you read at least some of that fic first.

(And The Man Who Would Be King, by myself and @therealvinelle, has similar rules where it's independent of everything else but if you read later stories in the series before the mother fic, you'll be confused.)

Side Stories

Sadly, I don't have a greatest hits list (as that feels weird for me as the author to compile) so I'd say read the side fics that catch your fancy, some are a lot better than others in my humble opinion.

What's important is that a) side stories are independent of one another unless in the same sub-series b) they were written to be non-spoiling. This means there's a lot of things that are 'not canon' to whatever the mother fic is. I generally noted as much in comments but basically if anything crazy happens, it didn't happen in the main fic.

Suggested Reading Order

There've been a few suggested reading orders from readers.

The above by Vanity Maxwell notes the chronological order fics were written in through 2018. Since side fics are non-spoiling (or I try to be) that means that when side fics were written does line up with plot progression in various fics/reveal certain things that have happened in the main fic or not.

The above by Michael gives a tree approach where, if you can handle the madness of Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus, you can progressively make your way through the fucking weird of my HP fics.

(And they are, really truly, fucking weird. Even the ones that are less weird are... weird.)

Personal Recommendation

The fics are different from each other and not all are everyone's cup of tea, they're also long. I recommend starting with the first story in series and dropping quickly if you don't like it and, once you get through it, then going on to read side fics.

[pparkerized]

We are on the same wavelength about Spider-Harry! I’ve been working on a short fic where Harry is a pariah to the Spider Society. Miguel recruits him after Peter’s death at the hands of Norman. But when Miguel explains canon events and the importance of ensuring they happen, Miguel mentions how close Harry’s universe was to collapse. Harry was going to save Peter, but Miguel’s interference ensured his death. Enraged, Harry fights Miguel, and as he’s wrestled into the Go-Home machine, he swears he’ll find a way to come back and get revenge. The story of Harry’s betrayal is used to keep Gwen in line. Harry’s history of going to the dark side across universes is used to paint him as the villain. Saying that it’s in Harry’s nature.

DUDE THIS IS SO GOOD. WE'RE ON THE SAME WAVELENGTH FR.

Miguel painting Harry as the villain because he becomes one so often across the multiverse, using that story to keep other new members, especially Gwen in line. It'd be so cool if at some point Gwen ends up stumbling across Harry and he drops the full story to her, that she sees he isn't the bad guy at all and Miguel lied. Harry becoming part of Gwen's band at the end, having a chance to get his revenge against Miguel for what he did... Oh that'd be so good...

Anyway don't mind that ramble you gotta update me when you've finished the short fic I wanna read it so bad 👀

[pulim-v]

Tropes for the ask game:

Amnesia

Arranged Marriage/Relationship

Red Thread Soulmate AU

Only One Bed

How likely I am to write these

Amnesia

It is literally a plot point in one of my projects so I'd say it's pretty likely lol (though not in the way most fics seem to approach the subject - and on that subject maybe? I like fucking around w memories and POVs so it could be fun)

Arranged Marriage/Relationship

Hmm I'm not that big a fan? I mean don't get me wrong I love reading it but I also really like having my characters' romantic partners be chosen by them so this isn't smth I'm likely to write

Red Thread Soulmate AU

Same as the last one! To directly steal a line from The Good Place, soulmates aren't found, they're made, and I think that's kinda reflected in some of my writing (like how Mist x Spark doesn't happen in WSMS, it was a one in a billion thing and they both put in effort for it to happen)

Only One Bed

OH THIS ONE IS TASTY!!!!!! I have an idea for it with my OCs but it's generally a super entertaining trope I love it, it's a nice way to "force" characters to be more intimate and there's a lot of fun outcomes! Fluff? Angst? Smut? Super versatile trope amazing no notes

What would I write them for

Amnesia

Fandom Blorbo

This could be fire with Asgore tbh I think a large part of his character is coming to terms with his actions so messing around having him forget said actions could lead to some really interesting scenarios

OC

It's the main premise of Reddened Hands and a Broken Heart - Vitalis only remembers his life as a god, and has no recollection of being a mortal, so Theo tries to get to know him better to understand what his deal is and hopefully uncover some of his ancient memories

Now, as to a character suddenly losing all of their memories, I think it'd be interesting to do that in Where the Sun Meets the Shadow, specifically with one of the villain characters - maybe Fern doesn't fully remember her life as a hero, and that's part of why he's so sure that his friends betrayed her, or maybe Basil has had her memories of Spark wiped by The True Mastermind so that she wouldn't go back to the heroes' side so easily

Arranged Marriage/Relationship

Fandom Blorbo

Tbh I'm kinda struggling to think of a fandom blorbo that I would do this with. There's a few that could maybe work but I really can't think of ones that I'd write yk?

OC

OKAY SO (<- about to go insane)

What if in a medieval AU for the FGCC chars Mist and Agate had a political marriage arranged? Agate is enthusiastic about it because she thinks the political power this would grant her would serve to help her people, Mist is hesitant because he's kinda fed up with the whole Royalty thing, the two start out kinda antagonistic but end up genuinely liking each other. Maybe there's some polyamory thrown in with the local gardener, the chief of the royal guard or a third noble who's also kinda tired of this mess

Red Thread Soulmate AU

Fandom Blorbo

I'm not too knowledgeable about this kind of soulmate AU, but I think something like Omori where the Totally Platonic Best Friends Sunny and Basil are described in-game as having "a string of fate [tying them] together" the soulmate AU potential is off the charts

OC

You know what's funny? While Argentunimbus is almost never canon, I fail to think of a scenario where Fernate isn't canon. They are perfect for each other, and a soulmate AU story set in something like WSMS would be really interesting in part due to it enhancing the fixation Agate has on Fern and just the drama it would cause (like if it's one of those "they only see their string for a moment in each day" fics then Fern seeing it first would make for an insane internal conflict lmao)

Only One Bed

Fandom Blorbo

EVERYONE GIVE IT UP FOR ASGORUDY BED SHARING!!!!!!

Okay I've literally drawn this but basically there's this important side character in Deltarune, named Rudy, that Asgore seems to really really care about, and I really ship them - I think since Rudy recovering from his illness is set up to be a major plot point and Asgore is having issues taking care of his house and his business, a scene of a recently-recovered Rudy and an Asgore that's Kinda Struggling having a nice domestic moment together and sharing a bed could be really sweet!

OC

I have Really Thorough headcanons for one specific pair of OCs but you have not met one of them so alas that will have to wait

Well there's also Argentunimbus! I think the two of them could have some really interesting interactions if they were to, for one reason or another, share a bed. Assuming this is later on in their story where they're already into each other (I could see Spark sleeping on the floor otherwise LMAO) both of them would be really self-conscious about touching each other, and there would be some really clear tension at first, but as the night goes on they'd up being really comfortable with each other and there'd be a clear difference in how they treat each other afterwards, especially because Mist is really perceptive to how Spark feels towards him and Mist could not be more obvious about how he feels towards Spark.

[chickenkurage]

CHAPTER 5- CHAPTER 5- CHAPTER 5 OF THE VICAGENT FANFIC- WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO IT'S GETTING HOT IN HERE- TIME TO YAP-

DANG THE BEEF WITH AGENT AND CHOSEN IS CRAZY OR INSANE TO ME NGL- BUT HONESTLY THAT WOULD SOMEWHAT HAPPEN DURING THE AFTERMATH OF EVERYTHING SO IT MAKES SENSE AND VICTIM IS JUST THERE AT FIRST- (no wonder the tag says chosen will be a little sh*t in this-) LSKHKJSBKJBKJSBKJSHKJSHKSMB THEY'RE HOLDING HANDS AGAIN THEY'RE HOLDING HANDS- AGENT SMILED I KNEW IT- VICTIM'S FROZE EXPRESSION FROM IT *INHALES* YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND DANG THOSE TWO ACTUALLY DID DO SOME FIGHTING TOGETHER BY SPARRING AND THEY HAD A LITTLE TALK, YES CHOSEN'S RIGHT AGENT GET YOURSELF TOGETHER AND BUILD UP THE COURAGE AT LEAST AND JUST GO FOR THAT KISS!!! AND NGL BUT WHEN VICTIM SAYS ABOUT AGENT BEING AN IMPORTANT PERSON TO THEM JUST SEEMS HEARTWARMING TO ME IMMEDIATELY OH MY GOSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH- THEY KISSED- THEY KISSED PEOPLE- THEY KISSSSSSSED, THEY'RE ACTUAL FIRST KISS WE ALL SAY IN UNISON, AND OH THEY ARE REALLY MAKING OU.... *INHALES* DANG- YEP OH MY GOSH- THOSE MOMENTS WERE A LOT TO TAKE IN WHILE READING IT- ALSO I NEVER EXPECTED THERE WILL BE A PART AT THE END WHERE AGENT SUDDENLY GETS INJURED AND VICTIM BEING CARING AND WORRYING, SOMETHING I NEVER KNEW I NEEDED IN THIS FIC SO YES- AND OFC ONE OF THE MERCS CAUGHT THEM RED HANDED, HAZARD HOW WILL YOU EVEN TELL THEM ABOUT THIS-

And I absolutely agree with the notes at the end, we want vicagent we all say in unison!!! XDD

The line "It's getting hot in here" gave me some chills *looking at that certain vicagent fic i made* Yeah.....try not to read that one if this fic already shocked you (for your peace of mind, do not read it, i repeat, do not dig deep under my ao3 account :'') )

For the people who have read that two specific fics, please....let's all not talk about it, me and JM we're clearly trying to tap the dark side at that time XDD

ANYWAYS IT IS GETTING HOT IN HERE!! IT'S INDEED YAPPING TIMEEE

Agent and Chosen has that serious beef with each other, and especially Agent to Chosen LMAOOOO. It was hilarious to write that, because they act like siblings, with Chosen annoying the fuck out of Agent and Agent just retaliating in response. He literally loses his composure when it comes to Chosen (and not in a good way like Vic does XDD). Chosen is indeed a little shit in this fic, he is an annoying little shit that wouldn't stop pestering Agent to spar LMAO.

Agent smiling for Victim,.....ah so cute, and so utterly gay *shakes head* So utterly smitten, Agent is so far gone as well as Victim. They are so far far gone people, no one can get them out anymore at this point XDDD.

Chosen and Agent sparring, and Chosen's odd way to give Agent confidence XDD. We know he is giving Agent the "pep talk" but in a really really weird way. Bro basically beats his brother in law just to apparently help him build his confidence XD

Well we all know Victim holds Agent in such a high regard, possibly higher than anyone else LMAO. He's just smitten like that!

Ah the make out LMAOOO, that's so gay, imagine making out with your boss. That's just crazy *looks at Agent* so damn crazy.....

I hope you weren't too shocked by that "make out sesh" LMAOOO. Even when i was writing that i was thinking "This has the tag No Smut right? This isn't smut right? RIGHT?!" and that even made me debate if i should add the make out session cause i was panicking inside, considering it's a pretty important part of the story (note: it's not, it's fanservice shhh)

Agent injured and caring Victim heheh, and about Hazard. It's safe to say he couldn't explain what he just saw by signs and symbols. He only just confused Primal and Ballista as he tries to explain it all LMAOOOOO.

We need more VicAgent! We shout in unison!.....yes ehehehe!

I actually plan to have another part of this series, which are just some one shots with our lovable VicAgent LMAO, mostly just to fuel the vicagent lovers since there are barely any vicagent out there.

So i will take it upon myself, to write every prompt i can think of, and i would probably ask you guys as well cause i am really not creative on the romance part :((( So I'll probably entrust that to you guys if there are any specific stuff you want to happen between Victim and Agent xP

ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS HEHEHEHE - S

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 16 – DARK FIC

The Secret Side Of Me by sweetNsimple

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: M Words: 12,684 Tags: Cannibalism, Vore, Fluff and Angst

Summary: Steve butted his forehead against Tony's. “I love you.” “I think it goes without saying that I might just feel the same way about you,” Tony drawled. “Maybe. I think I'd like to hear it anyway.” “Well, fine. I love you, Hannibal Lecter. Please don't feed me anymore people.” He smiled. “I'll see what I can do.”

Reasons why I love it: I like to call this one the "wholesome cannibalism fic". Seems like it might be a juxtaposition, but I promise you, it's not. The reasoning behind Steve's issues and actions is really sympathetic, and I love how it ties into the kinkier sides of this fic. Also, Tony's reaction to what Steve is doing feels very real and in character. This fic is lovely, so if you can stomach - haha - some self-harm and cannibalism, I highly encourage you to give it a try.

What Rough Beast by immoral_crow

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: M Words: 6,343 Tags: Character Death, Super Soldier Serum, Love

Summary: Steve Rogers, super soldier. It’s amazing really that it takes them all so long to work out just what the serum can do… but given enough time all things become apparent. This is a story about love, and loss; the things we would do to be true to ourselves and true to our hearts; and the prices you must pay to do that.

Reasons why I love it: I don't want to spoil anything about this fic, so I'm just going to say that it's amazing and deeply sad and makes me want to cry every time I read it. Please go and experience it for yourself, it's fantastic!

Apricity by nostalgicatsea

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 1,542 Tags: Dark Steve, Mental Instability, Murder

Summary: Tony came to him, warm and bright like summer to his everlasting winter. Steve would do anything to keep him forever.

Reasons why I love it: Seeing how unhinged Steve is after the ice is really sad. I love the explanation that nostalgicatsea gives as to why Steve does what he does in regards to his obsession with Tony. It makes sense in a really twisted way. This fic is amazing, and I highly encourage you to read it!

Things We'd Held in Secret by Dira Sudis (dsudis)

Pairing: Steve/Bucky Rating: E Words: 11,146 Tags: Cannibalism, Super Soldier Serum, Rituals

Summary: Steve and Bucky were trapped together behind enemy lines in 1944. Bucky was badly injured, and for days Steve fed him the only way he could with no supplies on hand but a sharp knife. Bucky didn't understand what was happening at the time, and afterward there was never a good time to tell him--but now that Steve knows what he really did for Bucky, the secret is going to have to come out.

Reasons why I love it: If I had a dollar for every time I read wholesome cannibalism fic, I'd have two, which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice. The reasoning behind the cannibalism in this fic is so emotional, especially on the second go around. And oh my god, Bucky just breaks my heart here. I adore this fic, and I hope you give it a shot yourself!

I Wish You Were a Monster by Anonymous

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 5,220 Tags: Pedophilia, Past Non-Con, Child Abuse

Summary: Steve has a terrible secret. One he'll never act upon. He never acts on these desires, but he struggles with them, because he knows how wrong they are.

Reasons why I love it: This fic is really hard to read, but it's some incredible food for thought. The whole subject is handled very delicately and dare I say ethically, and I loved seeing a perspective that isn't obvious at first glance. Which is why I think this fic is very important, even outside of fandom. If you read this one, let me know what you think, because I'm very curious how other people might interpret this fic.

[theacedragon0w0]

No Strings Attached

A voltage fic

Hazel belongs to @puffymucher

Rosalina belongs to @mirconreadzztuff22

And Vlk belongs to @imapuppy5000

Vlk looked through the enormous closet that Velvette pride herself in owning, helping her vixen in choosing an outfit for the night out.

"You know you don't have to do this Vel, I don't think Sage would mind me wearing what I usually wear."

Velvette rolled her eyes, handing Vlk another dress, "Well I mind if my wives go out and they look like they live in a dumpster, now try them out, I wanna see how you look in them."

Vlk obeyed, putting on and removing each dress that the overlord gave, she was still adjusting to being dolled up but she couldn't deny that she was enjoying the attention she was getting.

It wasn't until Rosalina and Hazel entered the closet that caught the fox by surprise.

Rosalina gently tapped Velvette's shoulder, "You do realize that Sage and Vlk are going to an arcade right? Not a 5-star dinner."

Hazel nodded, "Yeah boss, those clothes don't offer a lot of room to move around in."

Velvette scoffed, "Fine, Vlk will look better in a two-piece anyway."

Snapping her fingers, Vlk watched and multiple outfits manifesting at the same speed as they disappeared on her body. Velvette's face scrunched as each outfit kept disappointing her, until she finally stopped at one that she was satisfied with.

It was a black tank crop top with white hearts that lined around the short sleeves. It was paired with a black skirt with leggings to match. Vlk was also given a pair of Dr. Martins which she made a sigh of relief as she knew high heels would not be fitting for her date.

"Alright Doll, I'm going to let you finish up since me and these two babes have a table that has our name on it!"

Vlk chuckled, "Don't have too much fun, me and Sage will win you guys some prizes when we get back!"

And just like that she was by herself again.

Vlk looked at herself in the mirror, spinning around and giggled as her skirt twirled with her. She loved her outfit, but she felt that there was something missing, she dug deeper into the closet and noticed a jacket that stood out from all the other coats.

It was a denim jacket, the sleeves and back were decorated with patches, she recognized as some of them to be from the bands that Sage mentioned to have seen play.

Did this belong to Sage?

Vlk never seen Sage wear something like this, well, she never saw Sage wear something besides their work attire and formal wear.

Vlk hummed to herself, well Velvette and her tend to take their old band shirts and wear them when they have a day off, so there's no harm in wearing this. The coat felt bulky on the fox, but other than that it felt comfortable.

"Hey Dollface I forgot my-" Velvette returned but froze in her tracks when she looked up from her phone.

"What's with that look?"

"Take that off."

Vlk's ears flatten at Velvette's words, just a moment ago Velvette was being sweet so Vlk didn't know what changed.

"This?" Vlk asked as she pinched the side of the jacket.

"Yes. You can't wear that."

Vlk's teeth curled into a snarl, "Oh so out of everything in that Ikea of a closet I can put on but this is where you cross the line?"

Velvette pinched her nose bridge, of course Sage didn't tell Vlk about their jacket, and the history with it. "Look, that jacket isn't just some article of clothing that you can just throw on."

Vlk wasn't having it, if this jacket was that important then why was it sitting inside the closet?

Velvette noticed the confused expression on Vlk's face, a part of her knew that it wasn't her place to tell Sage's story but she wasn't the type to dance around the issue.

"If you must know, Sage made that jacket back when she was working with those gay cats, aka back when she was with that shitty ex of theirs."

Vlk's arms that were once crossed immediately dropped at those words, "You mean that ex?"

Velvette exhaled, "Yes, the ex that gave Sage those lovely scars, so do you get why that jacket is kinda a big fucking deal?"

"What's a big fucking deal?" Sage walked in, as they were checking in on why it was taking their spouses so long. Their gaze finally landed on Vlk, who was frantically trying to remove their coat.

"I'm so sorry! I had no idea what this jacket meant-"

Sage stopped Vlk from taking off, "No! No it's fine! Don't take it off, it actually looks nice on you."

"......what?"

"I mean what would be the point of me making this if it never gets worn you know?"

Velvette stepped closer to Sage, "You are cool with it? Honestly?"

"Well you two steal my clothes all the time, if anything I'm flattered that you would want to wear something like this."

Vlk's face flushed at her spouse's words, "Well it's a comfy jacket."

Sage chuckled, "That's what I was going for when making it."

"Alright babes we got dates we gotta go to so let's wrap up this rom-com."

[meteormoss]

hello!!! so your fic he curtains pulled out of the wall got me into the stick season album and my brain chemistry is forever changed

anyways do you have any like?? specific song associations for chapters or characters?

This ask is harder than you think to answer. My actual answer I'm going to keep just to Stick Season songs (+1 other noah kahan song because its too perfect) but the playlists feature some other songs. I'm going to link them at the end, feel free to give them a listen or look. Dirt roads earned all these empty scars playlist is still a WIP tho

The very last chapter of the curtains pulled out of the wall (and im thinking the 2nd chapter of dirt roads earned all these empth scars) is heavily inspired by The View Between Villages. Specifically the transition of feelings, but i referenced it as well with how he sits in his car. This song specifically makes me oh so ill, and i think it means a lot to the entire story.

New perspective is more of a characterization of the town and cleo and the relarionship (mostly with cleo tho) through bdubs' eyes, but it's not quite on the nose with it.

Stick season is straight up a bdubs song. Like literally everything in it heavily helped me characterize him. That is a bdubs song. Even if a lot of the characterization isn't directly discussed. (Oh, btw, for those of you who are curious, the season of the sticks is winter, cuz thats all you see, i didnt get it at first either)

Homesick just generally makes me think of the story abd enviorment, the very beginning lyrics are of course a reference to cleo. "I got dreams but i cant make myself believe them, spend the rest of my life with what couldve been, and i will die in the house i grew up in, im home sick" is both bdubs and etho.

Come Over is a bit of the first chapter, a bit of enviorment, a bit of bdubs, a bit of desperation to not get left irrefutably alone. "Someday im gonna be somebody people want" should stick in your mind

All My Love is a lot of the very first chapters, especially from the pov of the curtains pulled out of the wall, very much less so for dirt roads earned all these empty scars and thats because of the differences of perspective. I cant even pull out a lyric to emphasive this because that whole chapter is so much this song. "Now i know your name but not who you are" is a really important line for both fics, and both povs, and all the characters. Its just one to remember.

Still is a lot of the thought going into writing the final chapter and thr funeral chapter. It didnt really go into the actual writings as intensely but i would confidently say it bled in. But for me personally those chapters and this song are intrisically tied.

Strawberry Wine is nostalgia for bdubs, its the reason he's not moved on as well. This is such a bdubs song. "We buried your bones in plywood" is such a complicated line theres a reason it's the series title. It's simultaneously a reference to the state of cleo and etho in this. Cleo is nothing but old pictures shoved in a wooden box in the attic, something buried in dust and anger. Inaccessible. Etho's literally got his bobes buried in a wooden box. He's dead, also entierly inaccessible.

Northern Attitude is the cleo song off of Stick Season. That's literally her. She built everything there and uprooted it too. She's realized she's callused and notably mean because of her original enviorment and it stands out where she is now. She reflects sometimes, but mostly she pushes it all off.

And then we come to the song that i need to mention because of how it explains Cleo. Paul Revere by Noah Kahan. This ones going to heavily inspire chapter 2 of her side of this, dirt roads earned all these empty scars. Chapter 2 is gonna be very similar to chapter 2 of the curtains pulled out of the wall, but the timings will be a bit off from each other, it'll be the heading to bdubs' that this song really represents. But it's also the cleo song ever. It characterizes the time before she left, when she left, and when she's been gone. It discusses how she hasnt moved on or let go, she just doesnt cling as bdubs does. Shes hurt and angry but she understands she doesnt need or want it and it's such a fight between forces inside her and it tears her up. "If I could leave I wouldve already left" is such an essential line to her character, shes physically removed, but pieces of her are still out there in the cold.

Sorry some of these are a little more broad than you asked, i just think they're just as essential. You have to understand the enviorment on a level to understand the characters.

[localplaguenurse]

Hello it's me again here to yell at you some more about gold as ginkgo because WHAT IS YOUR WRITING???? OMG I'm at ch23 already and so much has happened fcvhbjknklml amazing storytelling!!

Now this is gonna get a biiiit personal mayhaps sorry if that makes you uncomfy maybe?? But I just want to express how much I *adore* the way you portray the protag's anxiety and particularly the internal conflict of coming out of a toxic relationship.

this paragraph, this one in particular got me literally crying. I kid you not I started weeping and then went to talk to my besties because it's so real it hit me so hard. I'm sorry many people can relate of course but I in particular I'm just coming out (~5 months or so) of a 12+ year old toxic relationship and I've been struggling SO HARD, really so hard. And that made me feel validated, that made me feel like yes it's a thing it's normal. (I too had straight up panic attacks that left me with hands shaking and crying)

It looks eerily a lot like something I'd told my best friend weeks ago

anyway idk I just want to say your writing is amazing, the pacing, the characterization. I love that wifey doesn't just "get over" things or "get better" int he way it's usually portrayed, it's organic and slow and she falls back into negative thoughts and stutters and gets anxious but they ARE getting better in the little things, in the confidence, in the healing, in the feeling comfortable.

And it's not just that, the social anxiety, the nonbinary struggle, the feel that you're annoying others and have to be hyper independent never asking for help. I may not fully relate to all of them but you do make them important on the story and I feel like you portray them all so well.

And Gods, Morax/Zhongli is so nice lmao <3 need me a partner like that //hit that is SUPER self-indulgent love it. He's all kind and patient and loving and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ;w; I love him your honor <3<3<3

Aaaaanyway loved their outing to the city, love Li Lei's character, loved wifey slowly growing out of their shell, love Morax fucking crashing injured in the middle of the night during a storm and Xiao and the panic and everything, the whole dealing with the Abbes CHILL MAN LITERALL CHILLS OMG. Love the golden smoke yes it is your signature ehe <3

(as a side note, I remember a lot of chapters ago this scene with Morax commenting about a storm incoming and then dissapearing and I was like.... is this some weird ass mandela effect or am I crazy bc I specifically remember this lore of dragons getting horny during the rain but NAAAHHH NO WAY the fic isn't going on that direction Crys pls chill your horny brain BUT THEN HAHAHAHA GUESS WHO WAS LOWKEY RIGHT??? I DID READ EYE OF THE STORM TOO TO BE FAIR. Also on the same line of my horny brain so sorry for this but wigey being so asdfcvhbnjmk about praise and compliment has me going PRAISE KINK PRAISE KINK MORAX PLS!!!!//HIT)

ok that's enough this got way too long I apologize I got emotional n cried again I LOVE YOUR FIC!!!!!

I am going to get emotional, I'm getting the like heavy feeling in my eyes of "oh tears! may be soon!"

I'm also gonna get a little personal because it also ties in with the fic and just, y'know, if we're sharing then I'm gonna share too.

I've said numerous times that wifey's experiences with anxiety stem from my own. I was also writing this fic during a few very difficult parts of my life so I really leaned HARD into those aspects of their character. Something I also mentioned a few times is that I used to write stuff on wattpad, I got burnt out, and then I didn't post fic for five years (which now that I think of it, technically not true because I did post some things on amino back in high school, but y'know). I never really stopped writing, though. Gave me room to experiment and because I'm A) a lifelong fan of the dark and macabre (even though I'm actually a bit of a chicken baby), and B) very depressed/anxious, naturally I leaned more into darker writing. I liked to make it a point of writing happy endings but I would put my charcters through the fucking wringer.

I was also a huge people pleaser in high school that didn't know how to make friends aside from the ones I already had. You can imagine how fucking devastated I was when one day, fuckin completely out of the blue, I was booted from my friend group. I only had like five friends and I kept two of them after that shit. One of those friends was a girl I had known since first grade. For the next two years right up until covid hit I was like "well fuck, Charlotte, guess you've only got two friends now. It's only a matter of time before they get sick of you too." It took me maybe a year for me to realize it wasn't my fault that the people I trusted turned out to be shitty, and it wasn't until like a year or two ago that I was able to actually open up and talk about that shit because I've been terrified to actually be vulnerable with people since then.

That's only like some of my damage, I've also got the eldest daughter and "ah fuck I think I'm undiagnosed neurodivergent" trauma. Two for one combo! Love it here!

So, yeah, I got pretty good at writing and specifically writing about people dealing with toxic relationships. Part of it is venting, part of it is wanting to raise awareness for these things, and part of it is just, idk, I like writing this stuff. I'll write whatever if it's interesting enough.

Anyways, thank you so much!!! There's more I could go on about but that's spoilers, so I just wanna say I'm really really happy you like what I've done! Put my heart and soul into this baby. Also yes this is horrifically self indulgent lmao, this fic was like entirely catered to me and my beta reader and apparently everyone else is into it.

I hope your day or night is well, whatever time it is where you are!

[gamerbot-22]

So I Made A Decision--

I made a tierlist so I could rank all the Daily HSR Ficlets I've been doing! The thought is I'll update it every week on Sunday and add some thoughts. Since this is happening two weeks in, There's a lot of thoughts, so I'll do everyone the favor of putting everything under the cut.

(Also while Fugue, Sunday, and The Herta are present on the list, I still have not played New Venture on the Eighth Dawn. I'm going to wait, I think, for the English dub situation to get sorted out and for voice lines to be added in before I do story stuff again. God knows I have plenty of side quests and achievement hunting to do in the meantime--)

Intense Concentration and the Consequences Thereof, B Tier - I think I had the most fun with the title. When I first started this, the idea is I would write everything in 200 words or less and that hindered the story from getting into A Tier. All that aside, though, I had a lot of fun writing it and as a gamer who snacks, I have been betrayed by the melting point of Ice Cream many times.

Subject on an Empty Stomach, B Tier - So my word limit went out the window with this one lol. Sushang is a delight to write for, I adore characters that walk the line between capable in one aspect and terrified in another. Plus Bailu being a little menace made me smile. I think the only thing keeping it from going in A Tier was the fact I was still finding my footing when it came to how I wanted this whole challenge/exercise to go down.

Astral Express Regional Floor Skating Try-Outs, A Tier - I could write about the Astral Express crew forever, I think. I really enjoyed getting to play into the dynamic between the three youngest ("youngest" being relative, thanks, Dan Heng) Trailblazers. The whole thing was very much inspired by the types of shenanigans I would get into with my little sister when we were kids. I do think the general setting and action isn't as clear as it could've been? Hence it goes in A instead of S Tier. (This was also when I decided to make my own post dividers!)

Working Up an Appetite, A Tier - Oh this was all 1000% based on my dynamic with my new puppy, Ripley. She's a sweet girl, but she very clearly has a favorite in my family and it is not me, which led to a lot of chasing her around when we first got her (she's marginally better now, we're working on it--) There's not a ton of explicit character in this fic since it's basically a transcribed Scooby-Doo chase, but aside from that I think it was a good, funny story.

The Girl from the Luofu Went Walking, S Tier - I went out of my way to write this ficlet with no dialogue whatsoever. I felt it added to the sort of dreamlike, melancholic tone I was aiming for when I rolled Tingyun's name. It's one of the most vocally well-received ficlets that I've written so far, and I'm glad of it. Despite it's short length, there's very little I would change about it.

Calm Before Lightning Strikes, S Tier - The first fic where I felt compelled to throw a ship tag onto it! I really did struggle with where I wanted to place this story in the timeline of the game, but when I realized there was that whole hunk of time between her getting told to leave and showing up with Black Swan on the Astral Express, I knew I had an in. I'm most comfortable writing dialogue, and I think what I wrote between these two mysterious ladies really shines.

The Most Important Meal of the Day!, S Tier - SOMEONE ON AO3 SAID I SHOULD HAVE NAMED THIS "THE SERIOUSNESS OF BREAKFAST" AND I HAVE BEEN KICKING MYSELF FOR IT EVER SINCE F TIER-- /J Okay, in all seriousness though, I had. Such a blast writing this. You know how some authors will talk about being possessed by their characters while they're writing a scene? I think March 7th genuinely entered my body when I wrote that fucking brilliant play. It came to me in a frozen vision, I swear. I do feel a little bad for making Himeko share the spotlight so hard, but I think the end product more than makes up for that.

Just a Spoonful of Sugar..., S Tier - I think this refined the issue I had with the previous fic, where Welt is able to be part of an ensemble without feeling sidelined by the story at large. Also getting to explore a sneaky, almost mischievous side of his personality was really fun, especially when juxtaposed to Dan Heng and Caelus' journey off the Breakfast Struggle Bus. Again, Astral Express Crew 4 Life I could write them until an actual Stellaron Crisis happened on Earth.

Rite of Passage, C Tier - I've had ficlets where I published them unsure but came around on them with time and that just... Has not happened with this. Maybe it will later, but as it stands this feels like the weakest ficlet I've written so far. It's way too procedural and... idk, internal? Without the character interaction to back it up. Like it feels rote.

Just a Bit of Fun in the Meantime, S Tier - From my least favorite to my most favorite that I've written so far. I had been hoping for a low-energy prompt for Jing Yuan and the generator came in CLUTCH for that. I really like the depth to Jing Yuan's character, and giving him some time to goof off and be silly felt really rewarding for both me and him, I think.

Slipping Into Something More Comfortable, C Tier - I think this would've been B Tier if I had gotten it done at a reasonable time and not Fresh Off A Fat Nap. Also genuinely I think this might've read better if I leaned a little more into Kafka's physical appeal. Like obviously I wouldn't go full tilt into NSFW, I would sooner die than do that on a public account that my dad now looks at, but just like Clara's ficlet, the whole thing just feels a bit too... procedural, and Kafka has a lot of personality and allure that I feel didn't get to shine with how quickly I wrote it. The saving grace to me is what little character interaction there is between Kafka, Blade, and Silver Wolf.

Wakey-Wakey, S Tier - A Bitch Thrives In Angst. Especially dreams. Dreams let me do some fucked shit without having to worry about silly things like lung capacity, blood loss, or vital organs. And going from, as @/theniastarfell described in the notes, "happy to slightly unsettling to PAIN" was a fun exercise in tension building. It also posthumously adds some conflict to Kafka's ficlet, since that and this are meant to have taken place on the same night.

Closing Time, A Tier - So I'm starting to recognize that there are two areas I feel the most comfortable/love exploring the most, and those are Soulcrushing Angsty Scenes and Quiet Downtime. I think if I had sat down and made this one a little longer, and taken the time to describe the bar a bit more, this would've been an S Tier, but as is I'm incredibly pleased with how it came out. Penacony's atmosphere is very fun to play in.

Let the Spirit Move You, A Tier - I floundered on whether this would be A or S tier before eventually settling on the former. I still feel like I don't understand Luocha's character very much, but I think the atmosphere I was able to strike here makes up for what's probably at least a slightly inaccurate portrait of this character. Also it was nice getting to toss an original character and area into this thing, expect more of that potentially (eventually I will start writing OCxCanon, mark my words!)

[luv-beam]

IM BAAAACK!!! i was gonna save this as my bedtime story, but then i realized i can't stay up tonight 😭 but all the better for me bc i get to read this little masterpiece early 😌:

• when you don't just have a feeling that today isn't going to go well, but it's DESTINED not to go well... good lord time to panic! also the description of the dress is so pretty rah like the quiet dignity and refinement over opulence, rhe soft rustling of the skirts,, u can really feel the vibe of the family thru this and also the tension w the fact that yn feels everything BUT perfect

• WHISPERING THAT A LADY'S VIRTUE LIES IN RESTRAINT OHHHHHH U CANT DO THIS TO ME NOT WHEN YN LITERALLY IS LIKE RESTRAINING HERSELF FROM HER OWN DESIRES THIS WHOLE FIC U CANT

• fun fact but corsets were never meant to be suffocatingly tight; its kind of just a modern stereotype, but im not mentioning this to diss ur writing or anything !!! 😭😭 i think the tightness of the corset and yns lack of room to breathe is a really important symbol that lends to how she's really feeling. like the physical connecting to the emotional

• okay another comment abt ur imagery bc ur descriptions of the palace are utterly breathtaking 🤧 like White Room Syndrome is scared of u, tara

• i know whats gonna happen, but like the tension and suspense u create is enough to have anyone on the edge of their seats!! like u dont need future sight to be anxious abt what's gonna happen. like will yn get out of this scot-free or will something horrible happen?

• "you are a xu, do not falter" ugh all the pressure and expectations yn is burdening herself w just continue to distress and weigh her down further...

• GIVE THIS GIRL A HUG 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

• i hate that i like,,, get their mother's argument. like im on yn and hao's side fs but also... idk i think she just had sm going on and like mental struggles can be just as harmful as physical ones. im glad hao is so compassionate, and that her mother does have some sympathy for her daughter

• (but i know what comes next 😭😭😭😭😭)

• "a splendid display of athleticism" PLS IM GONNA SNORT SKFNDKFNFNF seokmin does have a knack for brightening the room :'))) even i was trying to mope w our mc, but then that line made me break lol

• HOPE CAN BE A SLIPPERY CREATURE YES WE KNOW .

• TARA U WANT ME TO CRY DONT U (´Д⊂ヽ NOT IN THE WAY U LONG FOR?? THE CHASM BTWN UR FEELINGS AND HIS INDIFFERENCE???? EEEUUUGHHHH!!!

• i hate how supportive seok is being, like hope truly is a slippery creature. i feel like me and the mc both r getting strung along goddamn......

• love the details of the lady's tea and the garden party — great worldbuilding details to get me even more immersed

• AWWWH THE NEW DRESS, HER MAMA'S ADORATION FOR HER UGH 😭😭😭 i hate knowing the future. besides that, love the imagery of the dress like i can piece it together in my mind as if im sketching it out!! its so pretty :')) def befitting of a princess

• such a "slipping thru my fingers" moment 🤧🤧 like it's so starkly different from the time yn was getting ready for the debut presentation where she was just worried and freaking out; now she and her mom are /laughing/ and tho there r expectations, this will undoubtedly ease a couple of those worries

• oh the the anticipation is killing me — and then the ball is positively dismal >~<

• I WAS WAITING FOR SEOK TO FINALLY COME BY AND OFFER A DANCE LIKE UR YNS BESTIE COME HERE AND GIVE HER A HAND BY ASKING FOR HER HAND WINK WINK

• the mamas leading an army line is so funny lol and who said women cant fight??

• BRUH i just speedran five different emotions like HOLY SHIT I LOVE SEOK > holy shit. does he love yn back? > holy shit this hurts > holy... shit... > oh fck. like the immediate realization that snaps into place when u out two and two together. i wanna say she's jumping to conclusions based on seok's initial surprise, but im also cynical like yn is being in this moment and yeah... idk

• OPEN HONEST DEVASTATING. TAKE A KNIFE THROUGH MY HEART ALREADY THE WAY THOSE THREE WORDS PUNCTURE MY CHEST

• the "how foolish of me" not only meant for the fact that she thought he'd gone into this w pure intentions, but also foolish of herself for believeing he actually wanted to dance w her, that she actually had a chance w him... oh i want to yeet myself off a cliff

• omg the argument btwn yn and hao... tensions were high, im afraid... like idk if chucking a shoe at his face was supposed to be funny but i feel yns fury and the angry tears like i know there were better ways to go abt this, but i am all for female rage!!!

• "the bitterness in ur chest is a wellspring of anguish" OHHHHHH 😭😭😭😭😭 oh 😭 like it's catching up to her now. also, just the fact that hope is so slippery and caused her to make her entire reputation crumble is just... someone give this girl a hug, she was not built for this

• YOU'VE TAKEN SOMETHING PRECIOUS FROM ME???? some might say its her dignity, her reputation, her agency,,,, but we all know what it really was... or who...... i love snarling female rage dialogue

• do u know the taylor swift "right where u left me"? yeah thats this whole next section 😭💔 baby just becomes a ghost who haunts the place she was abandoned and wronged

• THAT LAST LINE IS LIKE THE EXECUTIONER'S PULL ON THE PULLEY TO LET THE GUILLOTINE BLADE FLY. LIKE OH THE POWER OF A SINGLE LINE LIKE THAT

despite knowing what was gonna happen, it still hit so hard, or rather, EVEN HARDER this time 😭😭😭 like my mouth is pulled into a permanent frown skcnekfnjf IM SO SAD FOR HER LIKE I DONT MIND BEING A SPINSTER MYSELF, BUT THE EXPECTATIONS THAT COME W HER SOCIAL STATION WONT ALLOW HER TO BE 😭😭😭 she will forecer be haunted by her choises and foolishness and im so sad for her 😭😭😭 tara, u are a cruel (yet talented...) mistress 😭

i... will be back tmrw... 🥲👍

The Somerset Affair | Chapter 2: When the Music Stops

pairing: lsk x fem!reader genre: Bridgerton AU, friends to (?????) to eventual lovers, brother’s best friend, SLOWWWW BURNNN chapter wc: 8.8k warnings: alcohol consumption, societal expectations, crying, mentions of a panic attack (not being able to breathe), eventual smut, more to be added a/n: sorry sorry i know ch 2 took forever // as always, ENORMOUS thanks to indi @wongyuseokie for this GORGEOUSSSS banner // and to my lovely betas shu @welcometomyoasis lou @tusswrites haneul @chanranghaeys this could not have happened without you // 3rd chapter will be up faster than this one i swear!!!

summary: when the music stops and everything goes wrong, will seokmin always be there to defend you?

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The morning of your debut should have been perfect. Every detail had been painstakingly planned over months, from the delicate lace of your gown to the pearls in your hair. But as you sit in front of your vanity, eyes bloodshot and heavy with fatigue, you know deep in your bones that this day is not destined to go smoothly.

You had stayed up the entire night, restless, thinking about Seokmin. Every word he had said, every smile, every fleeting touch that had seemed so innocent before now felt charged with meaning, occupying your thoughts and stealing away any hope of restful sleep. The result was staring back at you in the mirror: bloodshot eyes, dark circles beneath them, and lips that trembled as your maid worked tirelessly to dress you. It’s a pity – no amount of powders or rouge can hide the exhaustion and heartbreak written plainly across your face.

The soft rustling of your white debutante gown fills the room, each movement whispering of elegance and careful tradition. The gown is a masterful creation, carefully chosen by your mother months ago to reflect the quiet dignity of your family’s name. Its bodice is fitted, meticulously embroidered with the finest ivory threads that weave delicate patterns of lilies and vines across the fabric, adding dimension without overpowering.

Around the neckline, a border of tiny pearls catches the morning light, giving the gown a subtle shimmer that, like everything else about it, speaks of refinement over opulence. The gown’s sleeves, long and sheer, are trimmed in lace as fine as a spider’s web, designed to lay gently against your skin rather than cling, as if even the gown itself recognizes the demands of decorum.

The skirts cascade from the waist in a perfect fall of lace and satin, layers upon layers of gossamer fabric that float with your every step. Each layer, though fragile to the touch, is artfully arranged to maintain the gown’s perfect shape, a testament to the skill of its makers and the patience it took to assemble. At the hem, more intricate lacework peeks out, creating a subtle scalloped edge that brushes softly against the floor, finishing the gown with a grace that echoes the restraint of your mother’s discerning eye.

You cannot deny that the gown itself is a marvel, designed to highlight and enhance rather than dominate. It is beautiful, in the way a rose is beautiful—with an elegance that feels both timeless and delicate, whispering that a lady’s virtue lies in restraint, in never asking to be noticed and yet never failing to command attention.

But the corset. Oh, the corset. It felt as though it were designed to squeeze the very life from you.

“Breathe in, my lady,” your maid instructs, her voice strained from the effort of pulling at the stiff fabric. She pulls at the stays until your ribs protest in pain.

“I can’t breathe in anymore,” you bite out, trying and failing to draw in a proper breath. The corset feels like it’s made of iron, constricting your lungs until your vision begins to blur. “It’s too tight. I— I can’t—”

But your lady’s maid is relentless, ignoring your protests as she cinches you even tighter. She ties the final knot with a satisfied sigh. “There. That should hold.”

Hold? It felt more like it was keeping you prisoner, you think grimly, but before you can voice any more complaints, your mother sweeps into the room, her graceful presence filling the space with a quiet authority. Dressed in an elegant gown of soft gray silk, she pauses to take in your appearance, her sharp eyes noting every detail.

Your mother’s eyes scan your dress approvingly, but when her gaze lands on your face, her expression falters. “Dearest, you look... unwell.”

Your heart sinks. “I didn’t sleep much last night,” you confess, eyes cast downward, though you don’t dare mention why. The last thing you need is your mother knowing Seokmin has occupied your thoughts in such a way.

Your mother sighs softly and moves to stand beside you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “This day is important, darling. I had hoped you would be well-rested, but...” She trails off, her tone not unkind, but laced with concern. “There is no time now to dwell on it. The Queen waits for no one.”

You nod, feeling a rush of guilt, knowing how much effort has gone into preparing you for this moment. But the weight of the corset and your sleepless night are conspiring to make you feel utterly overwhelmed. Your mother notices, of course. She always does.

“Try not to worry too much,” she says, her voice softening, though it still holds that undercurrent of expectation. “You must keep your chin high, shoulders back. No one need know what little sleep you had. You are beautiful, my dear, no matter the circumstances.”

Her words, though comforting, do little to ease the anxiety building in your chest. But there’s no time left. Your lady’s maid places the final pearl pins in your hair, and your mother gives you a reassuring squeeze before she gestures toward the door. “It’s time.”

Your nerves flutter violently as you’re escorted downstairs and into the awaiting carriage. The ride to the palace feels both endless and far too short. Every bump in the road jostles your already-tight corset, pressing against your ribs and leaving you breathless. The palace is as magnificent as you had heard—no, it’s more. The palace itself is a marvel of architecture, an opulent structure that seems more the work of fantasy than reality. Vaulted ceilings soar impossibly high, held aloft by marble columns adorned with delicate carvings of ivy and mythical creatures that seem to come to life in the flickering candlelight. Every archway is flanked by gilded moldings, winding and curling like golden vines, each detail rendered with the precision of a master sculptor.

Each corner, each angle of the palace seems to lead to something grander than the last, as if it were designed to swallow you whole in beauty. And perhaps it is, you think, as you press a hand over your fluttering heart. For despite the elegance, there is an undeniable sense of intimidation in the sheer scale of it all—a reminder of how small you are in the face of such a place, and of the scrutiny that awaits within these towering, timeworn walls.

You can feel the architecture itself imposing upon you, weighing down like the firm hand of tradition. For a fleeting moment, you imagine yourself wandering through the palace alone, exploring every column and arch, free of the hundreds of eyes upon you. But here, now, with the gaze of history and expectation pressing down, you straighten your shoulders, drawing in a steadying breath, and follow your Mama into the Great Hall. 

The hall is grander than anything you had even dared to imagine. The polished marble floors shine like glass, capturing reflections in delicate ripples that turn the passing gowns of debutantes into pools of lace and silk. Chandeliers hang from above, so immense and dazzling that they appear to drip crystal stars. They illuminate the room with a glow that is almost celestial, casting every inch of the hall in a warmth befitting the Queen herself.

To your right and left, mirrors taller than any man stretch to the ceiling, framed in gold leaf as intricate as lacework. The mirrors hold your gaze as you pass, capturing the girls beside you as they float forward with their mothers, each one a shimmering, blushing vision in white. You see yourself in these mirrors too, and although the gown fits you perfectly, somehow you feel like you’re wearing another’s skin. For a moment, you imagine your reflection whispering back, “Are you really here?”

The walls are covered in the richest velvet, deep greens and ruby reds that somehow make the hall feel even grander, as if you’ve stepped into the very heart of royalty itself. Enormous portraits of past queens and kings line the hall, each gaze strong and serene, as if they’re assessing every girl who dares to walk beneath their painted eyes. Somewhere in your chest, a knot forms and tightens. It’s strange, the feeling of being surrounded by so much opulence, as if the walls are watching, waiting for something that only they understand.

And perhaps that’s why your breath is so unsteady, why your heartbeat seems to echo through the hall in time with your footsteps. The palace, beautiful as it is, leaves you feeling like a creature of some lesser world, an intruder who has somehow wandered into a realm that does not belong to you. It’s not so much a place as a spectacle, a stunning, overbearing reminder of all that you must live up to, of all the scrutiny you’ll face from these grand walls, these glittering chandeliers, and yes, the very Queen herself. Every step feels like you are walking deeper into a lion’s den, where your every move will be scrutinized, your worth as a young lady judged by the sharpest eyes in the kingdom.

You move with the other debutantes, each girl dressed in white, adorned with jewels and delicate veils, the picture of youth and grace. The line seems to stretch forever as you wait your turn to be announced. The air is thick with anticipation, the rustle of satin and silk as the ladies murmur quietly to one another, some excited, others as nervous as you feel. Your own dress, despite its beauty, feels like a trap. The corset restricts your every breath, and the weight of expectation presses on your shoulders like a leaden cloak.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you scan the room, your nerves growing worse by the second. And then, in the far corner, you spot them. Minghao stands with an air of composure, his eyes quietly observing the room, his presence as regal as ever. Your brother watches the proceedings with a detached elegance, his eyes flickering over the debutantes without much interest. His gaze flicks to you, and for a moment, you feel a strange sense of calm knowing your brother is watching.

But next to him, is Seokmin.

He stands taller than most, his posture rigid but his face warm, though tinged with concern. While your brother is a portrait of his birthright and title, Seokmin is different. His gaze is sharper, more intent, and when his eyes find yours, the familiar comfort of his presence makes your heart stutter. You try to remind yourself to breathe, but the memory of his touch, his words, from the night prior clings to you like a shadow.

Seokmin’s expression softens when he sees you, and for a moment, the whole room seems to fall away. His lips quirk in a small, reassuring smile, and though you try to return it, your own face feels tight, your nerves too frayed to muster anything convincing.

As if sensing your unease, Seokmin’s eyes narrow with concern. Does he notice how your corset presses too tightly into your ribs? Or how your eyes are puffy from lack of sleep? The warmth in his gaze is mixed with a flicker of something unreadable, something almost protective. You are painfully aware of his gaze, and the thought of him watching you stumble through this day feels like too much to bear.

The line of debutantes inches forward, each young lady presented with grace and poise, or at least, the appearance of it. Your nerves churn violently in your stomach as your name is finally called. Your mother tightens her grip, ever so slightly, and it’s a silent reminder – You are a Xu. Do not falter. 

“Miss Y/N Xu, sister of the Duke of Somerset,” the herald crows, and every eye in the room fixes on you. “Presented by her mother, the Right Honorable Dowager Duchess of Somerset.”

Your legs feel like jelly as you take your first step forward, your skirts swishing around you. The weight of the gown, the tightness of your corset, and the heavy stares from all corners of the room press down on you. You try to steady your breathing, but the corset refuses to allow for even that small comfort.

Just as you take a step, disaster strikes.

Your heel catches on the hem of your gown.

You stumble forward, arms flailing slightly to catch yourself, but the weight of your skirts and the tightness of your corset make it impossible to recover gracefully. A collective gasp echoes through the room, and you feel your cheeks flush with mortification.

The whispers are instant, rippling through the crowd like wildfire. You can feel the stares—sharp, judgmental, unforgiving. Your mother’s grip tightens, and though she says nothing, you can feel her disapproval radiating through her hold. She doesn’t need to scold you—not in public. But the sting of her disappointment is enough to make you want to shrink into the floor.

Still, you manage to regain your footing, if only barely. You take a shaky breath and continue forward, your knees trembling with each step. But it gets worse. With every move, the corset seems to tighten further, squeezing the breath from your lungs until black spots dance in the corners of your vision.

Just as you’re about to curtsy before the Queen, your knees buckle.

A choking cough rips from your throat, loud and desperate, echoing through the grand hall. You’re bent over at the waist, gasping for breath, your corset pressing tighter with every moment. You cough again, and again, unable to stop, your eyes watering as you struggle to compose yourself.

The Queen, perched on her throne in all her regal glory, watches with a raised eyebrow, her disapproval palpable. Her expression is one of distaste, as if you are a spectacle—an amusing disaster.

Your mother murmurs beside you, “Steady yourself,” and her grip tightens with fury and disappointment in equal measure. It’s too late. Your corset has robbed you of the ability to breathe, and the weight of the entire room’s gaze crushes you. Your vision swims again, and for one horrifying moment, you think you might faint right there in front of the Queen.

Finally, you manage to straighten yourself, gasping for air, your face flushed and tear-streaked. You risk a glance toward the far side of the room, where Minghao and Seokmin still stand.

Minghao’s face is impassive, though his eyes are dark with what could only be disappointment. Seokmin, on the other hand, looks as though he might bolt across the room to help you. His hands clench at his sides, his jaw tight as his eyes flick between you and the Queen.

The Queen’s cold, cutting voice slices through the silence. “Miss Xu,” she says slowly, her tone dripping with disapproval. “It seems you are... unwell.”

Your heart sinks into your stomach. You manage a wobbly curtsy, your knees nearly giving out beneath you again as you lower yourself.

“Perhaps Miss Y/N should reconsider her readiness for society,” the Queen continues icily. “A young lady of such delicate constitution may not be suited for the rigors of court.”

Her words land like a blow. You rise slowly, trying to keep your chin held high, though your hands tremble and your vision remains blurry from the humiliation. All you want is for this moment to end. To disappear.

As you retreat, the whispers rise in volume, filling the grand hall with gossip and speculation. You can feel the weight of every gaze on you, every judgment passed in an instant. But it is Seokmin’s gaze that you search for in the crowd. His eyes meet yours, and though they are filled with concern, they are also gentle, understanding. A small comfort in the midst of your disaster.

Your mother, ever composed, whispers to you as she leads you from the room, her voice calm but firm. “We will speak of this later, darling. But for now, we must leave with grace.”

You nod weakly, still too breathless and embarrassed to respond. And as you step out of the grand hall, the day that was supposed to mark your entrance into society feels like anything but. All you can think about is how miserably everything went wrong—and how, even in the midst of it all, Seokmin’s gaze had found yours, steady and unwavering.

The silence presses on as the carriage trundles through the city streets, each wheel hitting the cobbles with a sound like a hammer to your heart. You’re trapped, here in this carriage, with no escape from your mother’s disappointment or the day’s memories—the whispered laughter, the blunder before the Queen, and the sheer, unbearable heat of your mortification.

Minghao’s hand rests over yours for only a heartbeat, but it’s enough to keep you from crumbling entirely. Though he releases your hand quickly to avoid Mama’s watchful eye, the gesture is enough to ground you, pulling you back to this place instead of letting you spiral into all the things you could have, should have done differently.

At last, your mother clears her throat, a carefully composed sound that cuts through the quiet like a knife.

“Well,” she says, her voice clipped and precise, “that was… quite the spectacle.” Her tone is a blend of disappointment and a tight, forced restraint. “I had hoped, naturally, for a… more dignified presentation.”

You swallow, feeling the flush of embarrassment burn anew. “I—” you start, but the words catch, failing under the weight of everything you wish to explain and the knowledge that no explanation will undo what’s done.

She adjusts her gloves with a sharp, precise tug, a calculated movement that somehow manages to convey her frustration without a single word. “I trust,” she begins slowly, every syllable measured, “that you understand the gravity of today’s events.”

You swallow, focusing on the intricate embroidery of your gown, tracing the delicate threads to distract yourself from the pressing sting of her words.

“Mother, I—” you stammer, but she holds up a gloved hand, silencing you before the words even form.

“We spent months preparing for this moment,” she continues, her voice tight with restrained emotion. “Months, to ensure you would have the debut any young lady of our family should. Your dress, your bearing, every detail was attended to so you would represent us with grace, with decorum. And yet, today…” She trails off, her eyes gliding over you with a look that could curdle milk.

“It wasn’t her fault,” Minghao interjects quietly, and though his tone is gentle, there’s a faint edge to his words, as though even he cannot quite hold back his defense. He shoots a quick, sidelong glance at you, a small, reluctant smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “The Queen’s hall was suffocating, and the entire affair was clearly designed to unnerve anyone in attendance.”

Your mother’s expression softens just a fraction as she regards her son, but she’s hardly swayed. “The Queen’s hall has been the site of countless debuts. If anything, the occasion called for composure, not… fainting spells.”

You clench your fists, the fabric of your dress twisting between your fingers, and look resolutely at the floor. As painful as it is to hear, you know your mother is not entirely wrong. Today was supposed to be your moment of triumph, the day you stepped forward as a young woman ready for society, carrying your family’s reputation with poise and dignity.

But instead, you remember the heat that had pressed in from all sides, the feeling of your corset cutting into your ribs, how your hands had trembled with each step. It was supposed to have been an easy task, to walk forward, cursty, and meet the Queen’s gaze with calm respect. And yet, you had felt every gaze upon you like a burn, each stumble echoing through the endless hall. And then, Seokmin’s eyes finding yours, calm and steady…

The memory stirs something warm within you, a faint flicker of relief that somehow dampens the embarrassment. The Queen’s gaze may have been unyielding, your mother’s disappointment all-consuming, but for that one moment, you had felt tethered, no longer alone.

Outside, the sun dips lower, casting long shadows across the city as the carriage continues its steady roll homeward. The silence stretches again, and the weight of it settles around you like an invisible veil. Minghao catches your eye, and though he says nothing, the look he gives you speaks volumes—a quiet reassurance, a reminder that this one day does not define you, that he still believes in you despite every misstep.

Your mother finally sighs, a faint softening in her shoulders. “We’ll regroup,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “There will be more opportunities, of course, but we’ll need to be mindful, thoughtful. A second chance may not be as kind.” She glances at you, and though her expression remains stern, there’s a glimmer of something almost like understanding.

The carriage ride stretches on in silence once more, each of you lost in thoughts. You glance out the window, watching the city roll by, lanterns casting fleeting golden glows against the carriage walls. It feels surreal, how a day so longed for turned into a series of mishaps, one after another. But as the carriage rounds a corner, you catch a memory from earlier: Seokmin’s eyes, grounding you, unwavering, somehow knowing how terrifying each step felt, how every misstep seemed amplified beneath the weight of so many watching.

As the carriage wheels finally begin to slow, approaching the gates of your family estate, you feel a shift within yourself. Today may have been a disaster, and yet, Seokmin’s gaze and Minghao’s quiet support linger, like small anchors in the storm of the day.

The drawing room is a sanctuary of elegance, its ornate moldings and rich fabrics designed to impress. Tall windows frame the view of the manicured gardens outside, sunlight pouring through in golden streams that dance across the polished wooden floor. Yet, despite the beauty surrounding you, it feels more like a gilded cage today. The delicate scent of lavender from the nearby vase does little to soothe the turmoil within.

You sit hunched over a needlepoint project, your fingers fumbling with the bright threads that feel foreign against your skin. The canvas before you, a swirl of colors and patterns, seems to mock your inability to focus. Your mind wanders far beyond the needlework, replaying the events of your disastrous debut like a never-ending nightmare. Each time you think of it, a fresh wave of humiliation washes over you, sharp and unyielding, like a thorn that refuses to dislodge itself from your heart.

“Goodness, how is one expected to focus with this nonsense?” you mutter under your breath, the needle slipping from your fingers yet again and leaving a careless knot in the thread. You curse softly, frustration bubbling to the surface.

Your mother sits comfortably in her armchair, her brow slightly furrowed as she loses herself in the pages of a novel, the rustle of paper punctuating the silence. Minghao lounges on the settee across from you, flipping through a collection of sketches, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement at his artistic efforts. Every so often, his gaze flickers towards you, a mixture of concern and curiosity etched into his features, but he respects your silence, understanding that you are still recovering from the scarring events of your debut into polite society.

Just then, the door swings open, and Seokmin steps into the room, his presence a burst of light that seems to chase away the shadows clinging to your thoughts. It has been years since the butler last announced his arrival—his visits are far too frequent now, and you can’t help but feel a mix of warmth and apprehension at his entrance. His usually buoyant demeanor is tempered by a trace of concern as he takes in the scene before him, the way your shoulders droop as if weighed down by invisible chains.

“Good morning!” he declares, his voice bright yet careful, testing the waters of your melancholy. “I do hope I’m not intruding.”

“Not at all,” your mother replies, glancing up from her book, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. “In fact, you may be just what our dear girl needs.”

You offer a small, half-hearted smile, the corners of your lips barely lifting. “And what would that be? A distraction or a dose of reality?”

Seokmin approaches, his smile as warm as the sunlight flooding the room. “A bit of both, if you’ll allow me.” He perches himself on the arm of your chair, leaning in just enough to draw your focus from the needlepoint chaos. “That was quite the debut you had, dear friend. How are you holding up?”

“Barely,” you sigh, tossing the errant needlepoint aside as if it were the source of all your woes. “I feel as if I’ve stumbled through a door marked ‘exit’ into an abyss of mortification.”

His eyes widen with sympathy, and in that moment, your heart flutters, torn between admiration and the painful reality that he may never feel the same. Seokmin has a way of making the world feel lighter, yet your feelings for him are a weight that often threatens to pull you under.

“Ah, yes,” he nods sagely, as if you have just shared the most profound wisdom. “The abyss of polite society can be quite unforgiving. I believe it’s marked with ‘no entrance’ signs, but alas, they are easily overlooked.”

Minghao chuckles softly, his attention now fully diverted from his sketches. “You do have a gift for exaggeration, Seokmin.”

“It’s a talent,” Seokmin replies, feigning an air of grandeur, his hand pressing dramatically to his heart. “But truly, do not let the Queen’s judgment define you. You are far too radiant for that.”

You snort, the sound escaping before you can suppress it. “Radiant? Is that what you call it when one trips over their own gown and nearly faints in front of our sovereign?”

“Why, yes! A splendid display of athleticism!” he shoots back, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’ve inadvertently entertained a room full of people—something they are certain to remember for ages.”

“But not in the way I had hoped,” you reply, frustration seeping into your voice as the memory of the evening flashes before your eyes, a storm of embarrassment churning within you.

“Ah, but hope can be a slippery creature,” he counters, tilting his head to meet your gaze. “What matters is how you choose to move forward. I have heard of many a lady whose debut was marred by similar accidents—yet they rise from the ashes like phoenixes, dazzling everyone with their resilience.”

“Is that your way of saying I should make a grand return to society?” You raise an eyebrow, your heart flickering with the suggestion. “Perhaps adorned in feathers and sequins to distract from my previous mistake?”

“I’d be the first to support such a feat,” he replies earnestly, the sincerity in his voice a soothing balm for your frayed nerves. But beneath your amusement lies an aching truth: his encouragement only highlights the chasm between your feelings and his indifference. He will never look at you the way you long for.

“Yes, Lord Lee, what a wonderful idea!” your mother exclaims, her book long forgotten. “The Fitzwilliam Ball is to be held in the coming weeks—what a splendid way for our darling girl to re-enter society!”

Your face falls. A ball? So soon? The very thought sends a tremor of panic racing through you. “Mama, I—”

“Yes, Mother, a splendid idea indeed,” Minghao muses, a teasing glint in his eye. When you turn your glare to him, he sticks his tongue out meanly, and Seokmin suppresses a chuckle.

You take a deep breath, fighting against the swell of anxiety rising in your chest. “I’m not certain I’m ready for another ball, not after—” you start, but the words die on your lips as Seokmin’s gaze locks onto yours. His expression is gentle yet determined, a silent encouragement that stirs something deep within you.

“Ready or not, life moves on,” he says softly, leaning closer as if sharing a secret. “You have to take the reins, even if the prospect is daunting.”

You want to believe him, to embrace his unwavering optimism, but doubt gnaws at you. Can you truly face another crowd, the whispers, the judgment? Your heart flutters erratically, caught in a tempest of affection and despair. Seokmin’s eyes shine with an earnestness that quickens your pulse, yet it only reminds you of the gulf that lies between your feelings and his casual indifference.

“Life indeed moves on,” you echo, your voice barely above a whisper, more to yourself than to anyone else. “But what if I stumble again? What if I make an even greater fool of myself?”

Seokmin’s smile falters for just a moment, replaced by a flicker of understanding that cuts through the air like a knife. “We all stumble, but that’s how we learn to rise,” he replies, his tone steady yet soft. “And besides, I’ll be there. I promise I’ll help you navigate any disaster.”

His words wrap around you like a lifeline, a flicker of hope igniting your heart. But as the warmth of his promise settles in, a cold weight begins to press upon you. You look into his eyes, searching for something more, but find only the steadfast gaze of a friend—someone who would catch you if you fell, but only as a friend.

“Right,” you murmur, the pain of acceptance settling in your chest like a stone, heavy and unyielding, a reminder of the distance between you.

The late evening light filters softly through the sheer curtains of your room, casting a warm glow that barely reaches the pile of books haphazardly stacked beside your bed. These books, filled with tales of love and adventure, have provided a much-needed refuge from the reality of your recent debut. For days now, you’ve chosen to cocoon yourself in their comforting embrace, avoiding the whispers and curious glances of society that followed you after your disastrous introduction.

You had resolutely refused to attend any of the society events your mother deemed essential—the lady’s tea, with its orchestrated conversations and veiled judgments, or the garden party, where laughter seemed to echo around you while you felt only isolation. The thought of facing the same debutantes, the same mamas, their glances lingering a moment too long on you, made your stomach churn. Instead, you preferred the solace of your room, the pages of your books offering both distraction and comfort as you lost yourself in worlds far removed from the judgmental eyes of the ton.

But tonight, your mother is insistent. At last, the Fitzwilliam Ball is upon you, and you have no escape from your mother’s gentle chiding. “Darling,” she calls gently, her voice a melody that pulls you from the pages of your latest escape. The delicate scent of lavender wafts through the air as she steps into the room, her presence commanding yet warm. It is an unusual moment—your lady’s maid typically oversees your dressing, managing the layers of fabric and the intricate details of your ensemble. But today, it is your mother who steps into that role, a significant act that carries with it the weight of her affection and a chance to bridge the gap that your previous missteps had created.

“It’s time to get ready, my dear,” she says, her tone gentle but firm, as she approaches your wardrobe. As she opens the doors, the sight of your gown hanging inside takes your breath away.

The dress, an ethereal creation of lavender silk, shimmers like moonlight trapped in fabric. The bodice is adorned with intricate embroidery that depicts delicate vines and blossoms, each stitch telling a story of artistry and care. The sleeves are fitted, with lace cascading down to create a soft ruffle at the wrist, and the skirt flows in layers, each tier of lace and silk billowing like clouds as it moves. It is a gown befitting a princess, meticulously designed to showcase your family’s esteemed standing while allowing a hint of youthful exuberance to shine through.

“This gown is truly magnificent,” you murmur, your fingers tracing the embroidered flowers as your mother gently lifts it from the wardrobe. “I can’t believe you chose it yourself.”

“Of course, I did. It’s time for your grand re-entrance to society, after all,” she replies, a smile dancing on her lips as she helps you into the gown. The fabric wraps around you like a dream, soft and luxurious, but as your mother laces the bodice, the realization of how tightly it pulls leaves you breathless. Each tug of the laces feels like a reminder of the expectations that have come to define you, but your mother’s presence softens the edges of that pressure.

Yet, it is not discomfort that fills the room. Instead, the sounds of your mother’s laughter and intelligence wrap themselves around you. Your mother’s hands are gentle as she fastens each lace, her fingers brushing against your skin in a manner that reassures you. The stern disappointment of your debut, where you felt like a shadow beneath the weight of expectations, seems to dissipate, replaced by her usual grace and kindness. As she works, her voice drifts like a melody, recounting stories from her own youth, her laughter echoing softly against the mirror as if the memories bring light to the room.

With every loop of ribbon and every gentle tug, she weaves a tapestry of love and support, a tangible reminder that tonight is not merely a duty but a celebration of who you are. As she arranges your hair into an elegant updo, delicately weaving in pearl pins that glimmer like stars, you catch a glimpse of the woman she has always been beneath the layers of propriety. The warmth of her presence washes over you, igniting a flicker of hope that perhaps tonight will mark a new beginning.

“Are you ready?” she asks, stepping back to admire her handiwork, a satisfied gleam in her eyes.

“I suppose as ready as I’ll ever be,” you reply, taking a moment to admire your reflection. The gown transforms you into a vision of beauty, yet beneath the surface, you feel a tempest of uncertainty swirling within you.

“Now, let’s see what your brother thinks.” Your mother gestures toward the door, and as you descend the staircase, your heart quickens with every step.

At the foot of the stairs, Minghao waits patiently, the embodiment of duty and familial pride. His presence, regal and calm, adds to the moment’s gravity. Dressed in a tailored coat that accentuates his stature, he stands as the dutiful son and duke, ready to escort both you and your mother to the ball. The contrast between his composed demeanor and your own fluttering heart is stark, yet comforting. As you make your way down the stairs, your mother’s gentle squeeze of your hand gives you a modicum of strength, each step drawing you closer to the world outside that awaits your return.

“Sister,” Mighao greets, mirth dancing in his eyes. “I suppose if tonight is your big night, this gown does not offend the eyes.”

“Minghao!” Your mother’s rebuke is instant, a gentle reprimand that lightens the atmosphere with her authority.

“For goodness’ sake, brother,” you admonish, donning a façade of false bravado to hide the anxiety swirling within. “It seems as if you would simply keel over before you ever paid me a proper compliment!” You attempt to feign indignation, but the corners of your mouth betray you with the hint of a smile.

As you reach the bottom step, he extends his arm, a silent invitation to escort both you and your mother to the ball. It’s a gesture of duty, but there’s an undertone of affection that brings warmth to your heart. He may be the dutiful son and duke, poised and impeccably dressed in his tailored attire, but in this moment, he is simply your brother—standing beside you as a steadfast protector against the uncertainties of the evening ahead.

Your mother glances at both of you, her eyes sparkling with pride and a hint of nostalgia. “Shall we?” she prompts, her voice carrying a note of excitement that sends a flutter through your stomach.

With a deep breath, you take Minghao’s arm, feeling the reassuring strength of his presence as he leads you both toward the waiting carriage. The air outside is brisk, filled with the scent of blooming jasmine and the distant hum of music preparing to fill the grand halls. Each step you take resonates with the rhythm of your heartbeat, a mix of trepidation and hope.

As you settle into the plush interior of the carriage, the door closes with a soft click, sealing you away from the familiar confines of home and ushering you into a world of possibility. The grandeur of the evening awaits, and as the carriage rolls forward, the cobblestones beneath you echo with the anticipation of what’s to come.

You can’t shake the feeling that this night holds the promise of something new—perhaps redemption, or at the very least, the opportunity to reclaim your place among the society that had once felt so cruel. As the carriage sways gently with each turn, you steal a glance at your mother and brother, their expressions a blend of excitement and encouragement. In this moment, surrounded by their unwavering support, you begin to believe that maybe, just maybe, tonight could be different.

Fate is certainly a cruel mistress—despite your greatest hopes, the ball is positively dismal.

The ballroom is every bit as grand as you’d imagined—no, grander. Chandeliers dripping with golden light cascade overhead, casting a warm, ethereal glow over the polished marble floor. The air is thick with the intoxicating scent of roses and jasmine, mingling with the lively music of the orchestra, where violins soar and the occasional trill of laughter punctuates the harmony. Silks and satins swirl in every direction as the season’s debutantes twirl with their suitors, their gowns a riot of color that makes you feel like a ghost in comparison.

But none of it feels as magical as you once thought it would. Instead, you stand to the side, clutching the silk of your gown, its intricate lace and delicate pearls feeling like a weight rather than a luxury. Your mother had ensured that every stitch was perfect, every detail immaculate, to help erase the memory of your disastrous debut. Yet, it hasn’t worked. The whispers haven’t stopped. Even here, amidst the splendor, you can feel the gazes sliding over you, only to dart away, as if your very presence is a reminder of your failure.

The other debutantes are radiant, their smiles bright as they are swept onto the dance floor by handsome, eligible gentlemen. But you... you might as well be invisible.

Your heart sinks as you watch them, a heavy weight settling in your chest. This is meant to be a night of joy and celebration, yet you feel like a fragile glass ornament left behind, forgotten in the bustle of a festive occasion. The laughter and music create a vibrant tapestry of life around you, but inside, you’re drowning in a sea of insecurity and self-doubt.

Just when despair threatens to envelop you entirely, a presence beside you breaks through the haze. Seokmin, as effortlessly charming as ever, sidles up, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. “Quite the spectacle, isn’t it?” he remarks, his voice low so only you can hear. “I’m certain some of these mamas could lead an army with the way they maneuver their daughters.”

You blink at him, surprised by his lightheartedness. Despite the heat of embarrassment burning your cheeks, a smile pulls at your lips, momentarily pushing aside the shadows clouding your heart.

Before you can respond, he holds his hand out to you, a silent invitation, and for a moment, you hesitate. Seokmin, who could have any lady in the room, is asking you to dance? Your heart stutters, a wild flutter of hope mingling with anxiety, and you glance around, acutely aware of the whispers beginning to stir again. People are noticing the exchange, their eyes narrowing in speculation. But Seokmin stands before you, his hand outstretched, waiting with an easy confidence that momentarily disarms you.

With a deep breath, you place your gloved hand in his, and he leads you to the center of the ballroom as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The moment your feet hit the floor, however, the murmurs begin in earnest, slicing through the enchantment that had briefly settled around you.

“Isn’t that the girl?” someone whispers, just loud enough for you to hear. “The one who fainted?”

“I’d heard,” another voice chimes in, “that no one would ask her to dance. Poor dear, but what did she expect after such a performance?”

You keep your eyes firmly fixed on Seokmin, but each word is like a needle, sharp and painful, pricking at your composure. The worst of it comes when you catch sight of one of the mamas, her face set in a smirk as she whispers to her daughter—the same daughter you had once taken pianoforte lessons with. The girl lets out a small, mean-spirited laugh, and your stomach twists, the laughter echoing like a death toll.

The memory of your debut hangs over you like a dark cloud, heavy and suffocating. Your embarrassment simmers, threatening to boil over. The murmurs become unbearable, and instinctively, you move to pull away from Seokmin, ready to flee. But before you can, his grip tightens, firm but gentle.

“Leaving so soon?” he teases, his voice low and playful, a lifeline in the midst of the storm. “Didn’t your mama teach you it’s bad manners to leave in the middle of a dance?”

You try to focus on his words, on the feel of his hand in yours, but it’s no use. You feel like every eye is on you, dissecting your every movement, judging, whispering, laughing. Seokmin is a shield, but he can’t block all the venom aimed at you.

“I can’t—” you begin, your voice thick with emotion, but Seokmin cuts you off.

He reaches up, loosening a perfectly pinned curl from your hair, letting it fall gently by your cheek. His eyes are soft, almost tender, and in that moment, you feel something flutter to life in your chest. “Eyes on me, Tulip,” he murmurs, and the way he says it—so calm, so sure—makes your heart skip a beat.

For the briefest moment, you think he might love you. That despite the gossip, despite the humiliation, Seokmin sees you—the girl beneath the debutante, the one who has admired him from afar for so long. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you see Minghao. He stands by the edge of the ballroom, watching. And then—he nods. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but Seokmin notices, and he nods back.

Your blood runs cold.

You blink up at Seokmin, the warmth in your chest turning to ice. “Did you do this because Minghao asked you to?” The words slip out before you can stop them, low and desperate, laced with betrayal.

Seokmin’s brow furrows. “Do what?”

“This. The dance.” You glance around at the swirling crowd, the eyes that have never left you. “The attention. Did you ask me because he wanted you to? To salvage my prospects?”

His confusion is genuine, but the truth is written in his face—open, honest, and devastating. He hesitates, and it’s all you need to know.

“Damn you,” you whisper, voice shaking with fury and hurt. His eyes widen, shocked by the venom in your voice, the curse slipping from your lips like something foreign. “Damn you, Lee Seokmin.”

“Y/N—” he starts, his voice softening, trying to explain, to defend himself. But you don’t give him the chance.

“I thought,” you continue, the words tumbling out in a rush, “I thought you asked me because you wanted to, not because you were told to. I thought you held me in higher regard than this.” You laugh bitterly, a sound that catches in your throat. “How foolish of me.”

The onlookers are whispering more now, their curiosity piqued by the tension in the air, the way your voice trembles with barely contained emotion. But you don’t care. You’re done caring.

With a mocking curtsy, you drop your hands from his and step back. “My lord,” you say, dripping with sarcasm, “I do apologize for any inconvenience to your social standing.”

Seokmin’s eyes widen, panic flashing in them as he realizes the gravity of your words, the weight of what you’re about to do. “Y/N, wait—”

But you don’t wait. You turn on your heel and stalk toward the ballroom’s exit, your skirts swirling around you in a flurry of lilac silk and lace, your heart pounding painfully in your chest. The gasps and murmurs of the guests fade into the background as you flee, your vision blurred with unshed tears.

Behind you, Seokmin’s voice calls out, desperate, pleading. “Y/N, please—stay—”

But you don’t look back. You run.

The chill of the night air bites at your skin as you emerge from the grand ballroom, the sounds of the festivities quickly swallowed by the night. Minghao is hot on your heels, and you hear the familiar click of his shoes echoing against the cobblestone streets. As you enter the carriage, your fury erupts like a dam breaking.

“How dare you meddle in my life?” you exclaim, the words bursting forth with a fervor that sends a shiver down your spine. The tears spill over, mingling with the delicate fabric, each droplet a testament to your exasperation. “I wish to be left alone!”

Minghao, ever the picture of serene composure, raises an eyebrow, though his calm demeanor only serves to ignite your temper further. “I’m only trying to help you, dear sister,” he replies, his voice as soothing as a summer breeze.

“Help? Is that what you call this? You think I’m some delicate flower that requires your constant tending?” Your heart beats faster, each pulse an echo of your indignation. “You are not my keeper, Minghao!”

He opens his mouth, surely to deliver some well-meaning retort, but you are not in the mood for restraint. “You think I can’t manage my own affairs? That I need you to dictate who I should associate with? Let me remind you, I am not a child!”

In a fit of fury, you throw one of your shoes toward him, the delicate slipper soaring through the air; Minghao ducks just in time, the shoe landing with a soft thud against the carriage wall.

“Is this truly your idea of a civilized discussion?” he remarks, feigning offense. “Throwing footwear instead of engaging in rational discourse? My, how you’ve mastered the art of temper tantrums!”

“Better to throw a shoe than to be lectured like a schoolgirl!” you counter, your voice rising to match his. “You presume to know what is best for me, but you are merely reflecting your own apprehensions! You have no concept of my struggles!”

Minghao’s brow furrows, and for a fleeting moment, his expression softens, as if he might relent. But then he leans forward, his voice low and fervent. “And you believe that sulking in the corner will resolve anything? You are only isolating yourself further!”

“Perhaps I wish to be alone!” you declare, your voice ringing with defiance, the words spilling out like water from a broken dam. “Perhaps I grow weary of this charade, that everything is perfect when it is most decidedly not!”

A tense silence envelops the carriage, the air thick with unspoken words. You both breathe heavily, the conflict hanging between you like a fine silk thread ready to snap. The rest of the ride is steeped in a heavy silence, each passing moment thickening the air with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. You lean against the plush seat of the carriage, your gaze fixed on the world outside. The blurred lights of the city flicker past, dimming into the encroaching darkness, and with each glimmer that fades from view, a piece of your heart seems to shatter.

Inside, your thoughts spiral. Betrayal gnaws at you like a ravenous beast, devouring any remnants of confidence you had managed to muster before the ball. Seokmin was supposed to be your ally in this fight, your so-called “loyal servant”; a beacon of warmth amidst hushed whispers. Yet now, as the reality settles in, you realize he is merely Minghao's friend, not yours. 

How could you have been so naïve? Your mind races back to moments you once cherished: the laughter shared over private nicknames, the comfort of his presence when you felt small and insignificant. He had danced with you, yes, but it had been an act of duty, an obligation to your brother, not a genuine desire to hold you close. You had hoped, foolishly, that he might look beyond your failed debut, that he might understand the person beneath the gown and lace. Yet here you are, reduced to a mere pawn in a game you didn’t even want to play.

A sob catches in your throat, but you swallow it down. Instead, you grip the edges of your gown tightly, feeling the intricate lace and delicate pearls dig into your palms, until you are sure you will have bruises in the morning.

How could Seokmin have allowed himself to be used this way? Did he not care enough to stand by you when it mattered most? He had seen you, yes, but only through the lens of loyalty to Minghao, not as the woman you wished to be, not as the friend you had thought he saw.

By the time the carriage arrives at your home, the bitterness in your chest is a wellspring of anguish. The vibrant ball is now a distant memory, a dream turned nightmare, and all you can do is silently mourn the friendship you thought would endure. You glance at Minghao, his face set in a mask of determination, oblivious to the storm of emotion swirling inside you.

As you step out of the carriage, he follows closely behind, his footsteps heavy with regret. “Y/N,” he begins, his voice low and earnest, “I thought I was doing what was best for you. I thought—”

You cut him off, spinning to face him, your expression fierce with hurt. “It’s too late, brother,” you declare, the words like shards of glass spilling from your lips. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me. You’ve ruined everything.”

His eyes widen, a mixture of shock and remorse flooding his features. “I never meant to hurt you—”

“It doesn’t matter what you meant!” you snap, frustration and pain intertwining in a chaotic dance. “You acted without thinking. You’ve taken something precious from me.”

Minghao opens his mouth to argue, to defend himself, but the words die on his lips. The truth hangs in the air, heavy and palpable, as the reality of your fractured trust settles between you.

For the rest of the season, you do your best to blend into the walls at every ball, and you succeed. You become a shadow flitting between vibrant gowns and boisterous laughter. Each event becomes a blur of swirling colors and muffled sounds. You move quietly, navigating the sea of opulence with a heavy heart, wearing a mask of indifference that hides the turmoil brewing just beneath the surface.

You linger in corners, your fingers tracing the intricate patterns of wallpaper as if seeking solace in their delicate designs. The bright chandeliers above cast their warm glow on the happy couples swirling in perfect harmony, while you remain firmly anchored in your solitude, an invisible wall erected around your heart. You watch as others twirl and laugh, and your heart aches for Seokmin’s easy companionship, the lively conversations and playful banter that now feel like a distant memory.

With each passing ball, the weight of your isolation grows heavier. Minghao’s well-intentioned apologies echo in your mind, but their impact fades against the reality of your existence. You’ve become an expert at deflecting curious gazes, practicing the art of blending in so well that the laughter and music seem to wash over you like water off a duck’s back.

But it is Seokmin’s absence that echoes loudest in your heart. He might have always been your brother’s best friend, but you had hoped he would be something more—something real. As the music swells, the realization settles heavily on your shoulders: you are utterly, irrevocably alone.

Seokmin doesn’t ask you to dance again for the rest of the season. 

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