#when its good its very good. when its not its just boring and not very good

[pukefactory]

•☽────✧˖°˖ EVENING SCHEDULE ˖°˖✧────☾•

(COMMISSION)

★ Summary: A Compilation Of Headcanons Featuring Salesperson ENA Being Separated From The Reader As You Are Trapped In The Lonely Door

★ Commissioner: @namosaga

★ Character(s): Salesperson ENA (ENA: Dream BBQ)

★ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

★ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

The respawn hits like a headache. Not the polite kind, either—no, this one’s jagged and cold and lonely in all the wrong places. ENA blinks back into the Hub, blinking and blinking until her triangle pupils shake from the strain. Something’s wrong. Something’s missing. “Where’s my associate?” she demands, red-side first, voice a silken pitch of mock-customer service panic. “Where’s my contractual companion? My deal-partner, my emergency exit buddy?” Froggy doesn’t even glance up from the clipboard. “Back already, huh? Good. Got another job for you. Big smoke issue. Very urgent. Big big fog. Go do the thing.” “No. No no no—I felt them behind me! I grabbed their hand—!” Meanie side takes over mid-sentence, volume flaring into a banshee scream. “WHERE IS THE BATHROOM BASTARD!? DID THEY GET SUCKED BACK IN!?” Froggy snorts. “Probably stuck in the Lonely Door. That’s what happens when you hesitate.” “You call this hesitation?! I TRUSTED the algorithm!” ENA screeches, arms flailing as her shadow elongates weirdly behind her, puppet-like, cartoon loops of panic glitching around her legs. “SEND ME BACK IN!!” “It’s a one-way valve, you neon ferret. Can’t un-flush a dimension.” But ENA is already pacing in figure-eights, her red side babbling like a hotline agent mid-breakdown. “We must file an appeal. Get a Genie. Get a mannequin. Get GØD. We cannot leave them. They are still in there. With it. With that. They’ll be all… cracked.” Froggy mutters something about caffeine and overtime, but it barely registers. ENA’s claws dig into her temples, yellow side twitching, blinking, muttering: “I didn’t mean to leave them. I didn’t mean to. This wasn’t in the pitch deck…” Even for a Salesperson, some deals hurt too much to walk away from.

☆ The Door doesn’t swing shut—it clenches. Clenches its thin muscles like the mouth of something divine and bored. ENA’s voice flattens into a hum, just shy of hopeful. “Let’s conclude this endeavor, shall we?” she offers with a tilt of her head, but her eyes don’t match. Her pupils are missing again. You don’t have time to ask where they went. Your legs are cubes now. You can feel the vertices.

☆ It begins like static in the bloodstream. You blink and your hand is a jpeg of a hand. ENA turns toward you and grins—Salesperson, all customer service and plastic cheer. “Not to worry, asset decay is standard in unscheduled transitions. Just think of it as… modular.” You try to scream. It renders as a corrupted flute trill.

☆ “YOU LOOK RIDICULOUS,” Meanie blurts, voice warping, lips out of sync. “FIX YOUR STUPID BODY ALREADY—WHAT ARE YOU, A YOUTUBE THUMBNAIL?!” It’s the closest thing to a plea she can muster. ENA is glitching too. Her torso duplicates and overlaps, one frame behind the other. She stumbles when she laughs. You see her blood is orange now. No—it’s loading.

☆ The hallway outside the Door is collapsing like an unraveling .zip file. Textureless walls crumbling and folding underneath itself. ENA’s hat drifts past you, and she doesn’t notice. Or maybe she left it behind on purpose.

☆ “You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” ENA says. But she says it while stepping backward, smiling with the kind of smile that doesn’t want to be watched fall apart. You beg her not to leave. She shrugs. “It’s not abandonment. It’s automation. You’re simply stuck in the wrong instance.” Her voice cracks. She was never meant to stay.

☆ You watch your own mouth vanish. There’s no time to panic before ENA—not the one you knew, but the mannequin she’s puppeting—shudders to life in the main world, glitching and sputtering before she’s finally cut free of her binds. Froggy, grumpy as ever, berates her: “Quit being so unprofessional, people will get the wrong idea! What even happened?!” ENA doesn’t answer. Her eyes are looking at something else. Something behind Froggy.

☆ In the Door’s fading echo, you hear the sound of typing. Dozens of voices speaking in code. “If statement. Boolean value. Body = NULL.” ENA tried to hold them together, but she was losing cohesion. Her model couldn’t keep up. Her limbs lagged in and out of place. You then realized—too late—that she was never supposed to bring you this far. And she never expected this outcome.

☆ As Froggy chews her out, ENA’s head tilts and she whispers: “There’s something still inside. I left them. I had to. I didn’t want to be unmade.” She wrings her mitt-shaped hand with her clawed one. “You’re mad, right? I should’ve stayed?” Her voice warps with guilt, skipping like a scratched DVD. Froggy stares. Then mutters: “…You’re not even here.”

☆ In the Door’s final light, you see ENA one last time. Not as a whole, not even as halves. But as shards. Her voices no longer alternate—they collide. “I’ll save you—” “NO I WON’T—” “What’s your pain point—” “SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP—” The Door slams its fleshy arms shut like a final period on a sentence never proofread. Silence echoes like a scream with nowhere to go.

☆ Back in the hub, the casino gleams. Froggy stamps forms. Business resumes. But sometimes, the lights flicker. ENA’s body twitches. She grins and spins her cap. “You look like someone with a lot of unresolved data.” she says to herself. You’re not coming back. But ENA watches the Door anyway. Because maybe. Just maybe. The save file is still corrupt, but not deleted.

[markssugarbaby]

MARK GRAYSON ┆ i could eat.. ꩜

WARNINGS .ᐟ … fluff, probs ooc 🤷🏽‍♀️ uh its based off a tiktok video i saw so if it seems familiar thats probs why

RIRI’S NOTES .ᐟ … english is not my first language so any grammar mistakes i am sorry for😔 this might suck i am learning how to write fan fics so bare with me please

your scrolling through tiktok, absolutely bored when you see a video of a girl telling her boyfriend “im so hungry i could eat” random person’s name and that sparked a idea in your mind.

letting out a soft giggle as you press record on you phone, pointing the camera at mark “dude im so hungry.. like im so hungry i could eat a whole cecil stedman.” you say dragging out the words making mark turn his head to look at you.

“my boss..?” mark asks as a look of confusion graces his face, “dude like yeah im so hungry i really could eat a whole cecil stedman.” you say inbetween giggles barely getting the words out.

“you dont even know who that is?” he laughs the noise sounding more awkward than an actual laugh, “yeah i could eat a whole-“ you laughter cuts you off “how do you even know who that is?!?” mark sounds like he’s getting even more confused by the second.

“yeah but like im that hungry i could eat an entire cecil stedman.” you say trying to keep a straight face “hes old he wouldn’t taste very good!” and his words just completely break you, dropping your phone on the couch as you break out into laughter all while mark sits there still confused!

oh yeah you’ll have to explain this too him later.

[digitaldaydreamm]

In unspoken claim how does Rafe react/behave when reader goes on a trip without him? Like on a family only kinda vacation

rafe x childhood friend!reader

head cannons 7

masterlist | taglist

⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖° Rafe? When you go on a trip without him? Oh, he’s not having it.

★ The moment you mention you’re going on a family trip, Rafe’s eyes narrow. He pretends like it doesn’t bother him, but he can’t hide the tightness in his jaw. He might say something casual like, “So, you’re just gonna leave me here, huh?” He doesn’t directly tell you it bothers him so you take it as a joke, but his voice and body language scream otherwise.

★ If he thinks there’s any risk of you being around anyone else, even family members he doesn't trust, he’s gonna try to warn you with his usual “look out for yourself, don’t let anyone mess with you” speech. He’ll go as far as giving you all his “good advice” on how to avoid attention from any “guys,” subtly implying that only he should be allowed to have your attention.

★ Rafe will act like he’s fine with you being somewhere else, doing who knows what, but he's also gonna make sure you feel the weight of his displeasure. He’ll sulk a little, ignoring your texts and calls, then hitting you with a sarcastic comment like, “Thought you’d be too busy to text me.”

★ Of course, he’ll keep an eye on everything you post. He'll be stalking your social media without actually commenting—he's just watching, waiting for any guy to pop up in your pictures. If anyone shows too much attention in your comments, Rafe’s jealousy will show. He might start liking your posts excessively, even the ones that don’t need a like. He wants everyone to know that he's present.

★ Rafe may show up unannounced—maybe at your house before you leave for the trip, making sure your luggage is packed correctly, or giving you a “reminder” that you’re not allowed to forget anything (especially him). He's definitely the type to drop by at the last second, looking for any excuse to extend his presence in your life, even when you’re about to leave.

★ If you send him a text or snap from the trip showing you having fun, enjoying yourself, he’ll act like it's nothing, but you’ll know he's salty about it. He won’t admit it, but his responses will be short. “Must be nice” or something equally bratty will follow. If you’re with your family, though, he'll make sure you understand that he’s the one who would’ve made it even better.

★ Once the trip is near its end, Rafe won’t let it go. He might text you multiple times a day, asking when you’re coming back, what you’re doing, and subtly letting you know how miserable he’s been without you. He’s trying to guilt-trip you, just a little. He’s the kind of guy who would tell you that he’s been “bored as hell” or “lost without you.”

★ When you finally return, Rafe will act like you’ve been gone forever, even if it’s only been a few days. The minute he sees you, he might grab you in a tight hug, maybe too tight, then mutter something like “Should’ve never let you go in the first place.” He won’t admit it, but he’s been sulking the entire time. He’ll want to spend the next few days with you, almost like making up for the time he thought he lost. So, yeah, Rafe’s gonna be sulking and maybe a little bratty, but deep down, it’s all just his way of showing how much he cares... in a very possessive way. ⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖° taglist!! @drewsdirtyslut @rafestoothbrush @vanessa-rafesgirl @dookeyfartt @doublejeon @memoirofasparklemuff1n @sunsetmade @xummer01 @justoxyo22 @maybankslover please lmk if i missed someone or if you weren't meant to be tagged for this series!

[dazzlingjaeyun]

ꜱᴛᴀʀꜱᴛʀᴜᴄᴋ – ᴋɪᴍ ꜱᴜɴᴏᴏ

music business major!sunoo x fem!reader

୨୧ genre: love at first sight – college au!, fluff |  words: 5.7k | cw: alcohol consumption, sunoo is just very in love and this is lowkey cliché ୨୧

hanna says: i originally wrote this one for euijoo on my &team blog, so in case this seems familiar to anyone; yes, i plagiarized myself. thank you to @brklynbabyjay for reading over this and reassuring me with it and thank you to @jayparked for putting me onto the idea of cross-posting my stuff in the first place (and the constant encouragement) <3

sunoo had never been the type to receive a lot of attention from others. he wasn't disliked, he just went unnoticed – overlooked, despite his bright and outgoing personality. but he didn't mind. he liked it that way; being in his own little bubble that consisted of more or less boring classes, late night studying, his favourite tv shows, and weekends spent on jam sessions with his best friend jay. it was peaceful like that and he wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

until he met you.

sunoo was squeezing through the crowded college hallways, lost in thought about the upcoming exam period, and mentally organizing how to spread out all the study materials over the next two weeks, when a bright, unfamiliar laugh pierced through the haze of his thoughts.

almost instantly, his eyes found the source of the sound – and he swore he could feel his heart sink. for a moment, he stood frozen, completely taken aback as he took in the image a few feet away from him. the way he could see your eyes light up even from the distance and how you seemed to outshine everyone else without even trying. how the smile you wore made his heart pound heavily against his chest, its warmth embracing him and leaving him unable to look away.

it wasn’t until a dull ache in his shoulder brought him back to reality that he finally gathered his thoughts.

"how about not standing in the middle of the hallway," sunoo heard an irritated student mutter as they walked around his frozen figure. mumbling a half-hearted apology, the boy quickly stepped aside.

when he looked back at you, you were gone, the spot that where you were standing just moments ago now empty – yet somehow, the warmth of your laugh seemed to stay. sunoo quickly shook his head as if that could change the fact that it suddenly seemed to only have space for you. out of sight, out of mind? hell no.

as he continued his way to the cafeteria, he tried hard to not allow you to consume his thoughts, but it was no use. it was almost ridiculous, he thought, how just about twenty seconds of seeing you could completely take over his mind. he didn't even know your name, and until two minutes ago, he hadn’t known you existed at all.

determined to not let his mind’s chaos show on his face, sunoo tightened his grip around the straps of his backpack and took a deep breath before stepping into the cafeteria and scanning the room for his best friend.

"sunoo! everything good?" jay greeted him once the younger found him sitting at a table.

"yes," he replied, almost a little too quickly. "why wouldn't everything be good?"

jay furrowed his brows, leaning back in his chair a bit, and scanned his best friend's face carefully. "you know," he started, "i usually ask. but honestly, today you're being weird about it." jay crossed his arms in front of his chest. "so, what's up?"

sunoo quickly looked down, knowing damn well he couldn’t lie to his friend face-to-face, and silently cursed himself for trying too hard to hide how he really felt. he'd always been awkward when trying to play it cool, and jay was too much of an attentive friend to not notice.

"nothing," he mumbled after a while, "i'm just stressing over exams, i guess."

jay sighed slightly. "you know you'll ace it, you always do. why do you have to panic first?"

sunoo simply shrugged as he picked up his cutlery, attempting to focus on his lunch and jay’s familiar ramble about finding healthy ways to relieve stress that had heard so often he could recite it by now – attempting to not let his thoughts drift back to you.

yet, even days later, sunoo couldn’t erase the short moment from his mind, the sound of your laugh replaying in his head like a broken record. he found himself scanning the hallways more often, hoping to catch even a small glimpse of you. he told himself he’d approach you next time, but whenever he did spot you, his body felt frozen and his feet rooted in place.

jay was quick to catch on. the two were sitting on the lawn near campus after some hours of studying together in the library. sure, both were exhausted, but sunoo seemed a little quieter than usual.

"you’ve been acting weird lately," jay said after some moments of silence, a hint of concern coating his words, "what's going on? is it really just exams?"

sunoo tried to brush it off with a shrug. "it's nothing, just a lot on my mind."

jay raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. just as he was about to respond, he noticed the younger’s eyes slightly widen at something. while sunoo wondered how you always somehow managed to be exactly where he was, watching you a moment longer than he intended, jay followed his friends gaze and understood immediately.

"a lot on your mind? or someone on your mind? so, who is she?"

feeling his cheeks heat up just from being caught red-handed, sunoo immediately averted his gaze and looked down. "just–”, after a longer pause, he sighed, “actually, i don't know." 

the corners of jay’s lips jumped up into a grin at sunoo’s blushed cheeks. "you don't know? so you’ve never talked to her? sunoo, come on, you’re the most sociable person i know!”

sunoo frowned, pursing his lower lip into a slight pout. "it’s not that easy. i don’t even know where to start. 'hi, i've been secretly watching you for a while now cause you're the prettiest girl i've ever seen?' will surely go well," he said sarcastically.

"it’s not rocket science," jay said with a laugh. "you don’t have to confess that you’re hopelessly in love with someone you barely know, sunoo. you just go up and say hi. you do know how to say hi, right?"

sunoo groaned, rolling his eyes at his friend’ remark. “i don’t know how to just... approach her like that. look, i never struggled to talk to anyone, but with her i just– i don’t know. i get nervous.”

“okay”, jay said, nodding understandingly, “then we’re gonna fix that.”

over the next few days, jay kept pushing him. whenever they passed you in the hallway, he would nudge sunoo’s shoulder and whisper, “now’s your chance,” but every time, sunoo’s nerves would get the best of him. his heart would race, his hands would get all sweaty, and the words he wanted to say would evaporate before he could open his mouth.

but jay, persistent as ever, wouldn’t give up. “look, sunoo,” he said one afternoon, pulling him aside after class, “if you don’t do something soon, someone else will. you don’t want to regret not shooting your shot, do you?” 

sunoo sighed, knowing jay was right – but no matter how much he wanted to approach you, the thought of saying something and making a fool of himself kept holding him back.

one afternoon, in the final week of lectures before exam season officially started, sunoo was sitting in the cafeteria, eating his lunch with jay while grumbling about the little time they had between lectures and exams. he was mid-sentence when jay interrupted him.

“sunoo,” jay said, tilting his head to a table not too far away. turning his head, sunoo spotted you right there. usually, you'd sit with your friends, but this time, you were all by yourself.  

“she's alone, that's your chance,” jay encouraged him yet another time to approach you. the younger opened his mouth to object, but nothing came out – you weren't surrounded by your friends, you weren't rushing to your next class; he didn't have any excuses this time.

"come on. what's the worst that can happen?"

sunoo let his friend’s words sink in. he could think of a few scenarios, each a little more terrifying than the other, yet despite all the doubts, he pushed his chair back, stood up on slightly wobbly knees, and walked over to your table. he didn't understand where his confidence came from, but just as quickly as it did, it disappeared again, when someone else approached you first.

he stopped dead in his tracks, watching as heeseung, whom he only knew as the captain of the college's basketball team, sat down next to you, greeted you with a gentle kiss on your cheek, and wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you closer.

sunoo’s heart dropped, his body freezing yet again. none of his overthinking had included the fact that you might not even be single, and suddenly, he felt stupid. so, so stupid. of course you had a boyfriend. why would someone like you not have a boyfriend?

he turned around, hoping that the way he’d stood there had, as usual, just gone unnoticed by everyone. then, he slowly shuffled back to the table he shared with jay where he sank down in his chair, shoulders slumped and eyes stuck to his still half-full tray of food.

a hint of worry washed over jay’s face as he saw his friends’ expression. he intentionally hadn’t observed the approach, wanting to spare sunoo from feeling watched, but now he couldn’t help but feel a hint of guilt for not knowing if he could have jumped in to help. “what happened?” he asked softly, not sure if he'd even get a reply.

sunoo just shook his head, not lifting his gaze. “nothing. she's with heeseung,” he replied silently. “shit,” jay sighed, running a hand through his hair, “i'm sorry, i had no idea.” again, sunoo shook his head slightly. “whatever. it was stupid to think she’d be single anyway.”

for the first time since he'd started college, sunoo felt genuinely thankful for the stress that came with exam season. he'd get to spend his time studying, sometimes until late at night, and whenever he finally closed his books, he was too exhausted to think about how he felt.although jay tried his best to convince sunoo to take more breaks, the younger thrived on the distraction that studying brought about.

knowing that exams would be the perfect distraction and that he'd head back to his home town to spend the summer break with his family, sunoo felt a little more at ease. he was sure that by the time he'd return to college, he'd be fully unbothered by you. it was a little ridiculous anyway, he tried to convince himself. he couldn’t seriously be upset that his hallway crush had a boyfriend. after all, he still didn’t even know your name, and now he was sure it would stay that way.

during the summer break, sunoo found comfort in returning home, where life around his family and childhood friends felt a little easier and a lot calmer. each day, the thought of you fell further back in his mind and by the time summer break came to an end, sunoo felt lighter. the idea of going back to campus was no longer stressful.

he’d be fine, that's what he told himself – and if he saw you again, so be it.

his resolve lasted exactly one day.

he had almost made it throughout the first day of classes without seeing you even a single time. one last class and he'd finally head to meet up with jay to catch up about the summer.

after settling for a spot near the middle of the room, sunoo pulled out his notebook and glanced around casually as the other students trickled in. just as he was about to grab his phone, a familiar laugh echoed through the room, making sunoo's hand freeze halfway to his pocket.

he didn’t even have to look to know it was you, instead recognizing the sound of your laugh as quickly as his favorite songs. and against his better judgment, he glanced up. there you were, walking in with a friend, that pretty smile on your face that still took sunoo’s breath away so easily. you hadn’t noticed him, but he sure as hell noticed you – and all the progress he thought he’d made over the summer crumbled in an instant.

but before he had time to mentally scold himself for how easily he let himself fall for you all over again, the professor began speaking, announcing the outline for the semester and the project that would take up the majority of the time, continuing with a speech on the importance of teamwork, but sunoo barely listened. 

“i don't want any discussions on who’s working with who, so i'll be deciding the pairs. i expect you to work together respectfully and efficiently,” the professor continued. “alright, raise your hand when your name is called so your partner can find you.”

sunoo zoned out, still trying to push you from his mind, repeating a mantra to himself that he was just caught by surprise and that his heart would stop beating so damn fast once he got used to seeing you again.

"kim sunoo and–" the professor called out, snapping him back to attention, "– y/l/n y/n."

sunoo scanned the room while hesitantly raising his hand. for a second, you seemed to look around too, processing the pairing before your gaze settled on him.

slowly, as if in a daze, he looked up, meeting your eyes for the first time. then, his heart dropped. he could almost feel the air leave the room. it felt like time had slowed down, like every sound in the lecture hall faded except for the heavy drumming of his own heartbeat in his ears. he could feel heat rushing to his face, a lump forming in his throat and his head starting to spin, but he couldn’t look away.

and then, you smiled – just a soft, polite smile. it wasn't much, but sunoo swore the world stopped for a second.

when you turned back toward the front, he didn't even know if he'd returned the smile, if he'd nodded in acknowledgement, or if he'd done absolutely nothing.

throughout the entirety of the class, it became increasingly obvious for sunoo that the weeks of distance had done nothing to change the way he felt about you – that his heart would, in fact, not stop running a marathon each time he saw you. no matter how often, at that. he kept on zoning out, replaying the tiny interaction between you again and again, or looking back to your seat for just a second before he forced himself to look away again.

as the professor ended class, he started packing up his things, and took a deep breath, somehow bracing himself to talk to you. although he had prepared for that moment so long during the last semester – well, at least technically – he found himself hesitating yet again. his palms felt sweaty, and his heart raced faster with every step that brought him closer to where you were gathering your things. his mind raced with a thousand ways to approach the conversation, yet none of them really felt right.

just as he opened his mouth to greet you, you glanced up from your bag, your eyes meeting his for the second time that day. your soft smile appeared again – and sunoo completely forgot what he had planned to say.

"hi, sunoo, right?" you asked instead, not noticing the way you’d completely caught him off guard. your voice was gentle, and somehow it felt like a small bit of relief to hear his name spoken so softly.

sunoo swallowed hard, blinking as if snapping out of a daze. "uh, yeah. that’s me,” he said, managing an awkward laugh. "looks like we’re project partners."

you nodded, still smiling as you stood up. "should we maybe set up a time to meet and figure out a plan?" – such a simple question, and yet sunoo’s heart felt like it was running a marathon. he quickly nodded, "yeah, sure. uh... maybe at the library?"

"perfect," you said, slinging your bag over your shoulder. "how about tomorrow afternoon?"

"tomorrow sounds good," sunoo replied, his mind desperately searching for something else to say. his fingers fidgeted with the straps of his backpack as he added, "we… should we exchange numbers too?"

you smiled again, and sunoo could almost feel the tension melting away, although his pulse was still buzzing in his ears. when you wordlessly handed him your phone, almost brushing his fingers in the process, he just prayed you didn't hear how his breath hitched, quickly typed his number in and handed it back to you. "there you go."

"great! i’ll text you so we can talk about the details. see you tomorrow, sunoo."

with one last smile, you turned and headed out the door, leaving sunoo standing there, still trying to process the fact that not only had you smiled at him – several times – but now you had his number, even if just for coursework purposes.

"what took you so long?" jay frowned at his best friend as he finally approached their usual spot at the lawn.

sunoo plopped himself down next to him, hoping that the blush on his cheeks had faded by now, but jay was already eyeing him suspiciously.

“nothing,” sunoo said as he reached up to scratch the back of his neck. but the smile that kept creeping onto his face made jay narrowed his eyes. “yeah, i’m not buying it. that’s not a ‘nothing’ face. so, what happened?”

sunoo let out a long sigh, leaning back on his hands. “you remember that girl… the one from last semester?” he started, feeling his face flush slightly as he spoke.

"yeah, the one you swore you were over?" jay asked, an amused tone lacing his voice as he raised an eyebrow.

sunoo sighed, “i never swore anything.”

“right. so, what happened? did you see her?”

sunoo took a deep breath, feeling almost embarrassed at how easily he’d been caught. “well, she’s in my class."

jay’s eyes lit up. “she’s in your class?”

the younger nodded, “actually... we’re partnered up for the semester project,” he added, his voice a little quieter now. 

jay’s jaw dropped in exaggerated surprise, “no way. the girl you were practically obsessed with is now your project partner? that’s so cliché!”

“obsessed is a strong word,” sunoo protested, even though he’d lie if he said that was too far from the truth.

"you do realize that this is the chance you've been waiting for, right?"

sunoo groaned, "it's not a chance, jay. she's taken, remember? i'm not going to try anything."

jay raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "you cannot know. maybe they broke up," he said, to which sunoo just shot him a pointed look that told him this was the end of their conversation.

in the following weeks, you and sunoo met regularly to work on the project. though the workload was tiring, the way your minds seemed to complement each other perfectly made the process easier than expected. it seemed like you could finish all of his thoughts when he struggled, and he had all the answers to your questions.

it should have been a relief for sunoo to know that the project wasn’t going to be impossible and you might even finish everything without working overtime (read: without him needing to spend extra hours trying his best to not act way too awkward around you). instead, the fact that beyond the pretty face that still left him breathless you were also incredibly smart made things only harder for him.

during the time you spent together, he couldn't help but notice little things about you that he hadn't seen from afar – just like the way you furrowed your brows and parted your lips slightly when you were focusing, or how you tapped your pen on your chin or your lips when you were thinking. all of these things, no matter how seemingly meaningless, somehow only carved the place he had reserved for you in his heart a little deeper. as if every single one of them made him want to find another adorable detail about you.

he'd catch himself smiling whenever he'd watch you a little too long while you were busy typing on your laptop, and he got used to quickly looking away or pretending to search something in his backpack every time you almost caught him. it was a miracle, really, how you hadn’t realized yet. at least if jay’s words were anything to go by, according to whom everyone could clearly see the way sunoo was so obviously, helplessly in love.

"you’re so down bad," he had remarked one time he met sunoo after your scheduled study session at the library – all smiley, obviously. but the younger had just quickly shrugged it off with a shy "oh, shut up."

but of course, working with you didn't only bring warmth and nervousness that had by now grown to feel almost comfortable. it also brought hard, almost cruel, reminders of how one-sided his feelings were.

there was that pretty necklace you wore, one with a small gem, that he was certain heeseung had gifted to you. it hung around your neck as if it wanted him to remember that you already belonged to someone else. and then, needless to say, there was heeseung himself, who'd come to pick you up from the library when you finished whatever you had planned for that day. sure, sunoo was glad to know there was someone who made sure you got home safely, but, hell, he would be that someone too.

every time he saw you smiling at your boyfriend, the brightness in your eyes sent a flutter through sunoo’s chest, only to quickly be replaced by the unpleasant reminder of how happy you were with him. he felt almost foolish for still liking you when he knew damn well that you were taken – especially when the confidence heeseung radiated made sunoo feel almost small, for heeseung seemed to be everything he was not, and even the mere thought of ever standing a chance felt ridiculous.

one afternoon when sunoo arrived to the library, he found you at your usual spot, already absorbed in the book in front of you and taking notes here and there.

"hey," he greeted gently after approaching the table, careful to not startle you. you looked up from the book and your eyes met his for a second – and although you’d held eye-contact with him for an uncountable amount of times by now, it still made his knees wobble like it was the first.

"hey," you greeted back with a soft smile. god, he swore his heart skipped a beat or two.

"i'm not late, am i?" sunoo asked after sitting down across from you, taking out his supplies, but never leaving your gaze.

"you’re not, " you shook your head, "just had nothing to do, so i figured i could start already. here look," you said, turning around your laptop so he could see the screen with the notes you had already taken.  then, you continued working together until you reached the goal you had set for the day.

 when sunoo packed up his things, he mentally prepared himself to see heeseung, his stomach filling with nervous anticipation. but even after a few minutes, he didn't catch any sight of him.

watching as you finished packing your bag, he swore your eyes scanned the library too – just for a second, before you quickly glanced down to your phone and bit your bottom lip just subtly enough for him to notice.

"isn't uh... isn't heeseung coming?" sunoo asked, tone careful, as if he wasn’t sure if that question was too personal and better left unasked. but you responded by shaking your head, words quickly following, “i'm going alone today.” you offered a slight smile, like you always did whenever answering one of his questions, but this time, it just didn’t make sunoo feel as fuzzy as usual.

"i can walk you home," he blurted out before his brain could even finish processing the thought, so he rowed back on it almost immediately, “sorry, that was a bad idea.”

"it wasn't, but you don’t have to. i appreciate it... thanks, sunoo." the volume of your voice decreased until all that was left was another, almost shy, but this time more genuine smile from you.

sunoo waited for a moment as if expecting you to say something else – take his offer, maybe. but as you looked back down at your phone, he gave a small nod, mumbling a low goodbye and left the library.

the following week, you canceled the study session last minute. it was the first time you had done so, and sunoo, already waiting at your usual spot in the library, couldn’t help the hint of concern while reading your message. yet, he didn’t dig deeper, knowing he was in no position to ask more personal questions, even if for the sake of looking out for you.

when you rescheduled for the week after, a rather blank expression had replaced your usual smiles and the silence between you felt more awkward than ever before. during the session, your eyes occasionally drifted away from the book, your notes, and from him, even when he was talking.

it wasn’t until sunoo noticed the absence of your necklace that he felt like there was more to your unusual behavior. you had absentmindedly reached for it, your fingers grazing your collarbone, but when they found nothing, you quickly pulled your hand away.

“hey,” he asked softly, “is everything okay?”

your eyes met his, surprised by his question, but you gave a small nod. "yeah, it's fine."

the way you immediately looked away after replying was all it took for sunoo to know better than that. he hesitated for a moment before softly offering, “you know... if you ever want to talk, i’ll listen.”

you gave him a longer look this time, and then, after a brief pause, you exhaled. “i broke up with heeseung.”

sunoo’s breath caught in his throat. sure, all he wanted was to be a safe space for you to talk and feel comfortable, understood, not alone, perhaps – but he hadn't expected you to actually tell him. not so quickly, and not that. for a moment, he just stared at you as if waiting for you to laugh it all off as a joke.

"i... i'm sorry. that must be hard" was all he managed to say, not sure how to choose his words and mentally cursing himself for making them sound awkward on top of that.

you nodded slightly, looking down at your hands, your voice quiet. "it’s been coming for a while, i guess. he’s been distant, and i should’ve known, but... yeah." sunoo could feel his heart crack at the hint of sadness in your voice.

he felt the urge to reach across the table, maybe take your hand or offer some kind of physical comfort, but he stopped himself. instead, he gave you a warm smile, hoping that it would somehow be enough.

“thanks for telling me,” he said gently. he wanted to say more, to be a better source of comfort, but something told him that you didn't want to talk about it now. “if you need anything, i’m here.”

you didn’t say anything for a moment, but then you gave a small, genuine smile – one that felt more like you. "thank you, sunoo."

in the following weeks, the two of you returned to your project work routine.sunoo began bringing you your usual coffee, just setting it down next to your books with a small remark like, "i thought that might help to cheer you up a little."

and while you just casually thanked him each time – at least you tried to be casual – these gestures began to tug at your heart. at some point, you found yourself looking forward to seeing him, not because of the free coffee but because of him. the way he understood you wordlessly, somehow always sensed when you needed a break or when the time was right for a joke and when it wasn’t. just the way his mere presence had something oh so comforting to it.

one time when you looked up to thank him, your eyes met his, and you held his gaze just long enough to notice how his brown hair fell slightly over his eyes – how his smile was so evident in them that it made your stomach feel all warm and fuzzy. and although you tried to shove the warmth away each time you felt it, you started seeing things you'd never noticed before; how his eyes sparkled when he was talking about something he seemed passionate about, or the way his smile grew just a little wider when he seemed nervous or embarrassed.

maybe it was too early to fall for him, but before you could waste a thought on that, you realized you already had. and sunoo had made it so easy.

"please, sunoo," you begged, pouting your lips slightly as if that was the ultimate way to persuade him to join a party a fellow student hosted to celebrate the end of the semester.

he opened his mouth to object, but in reality, he felt like he'd combust if you didn't stop pouting anytime soon, so he gave in. "fine, but only for two hours." you smiled brightly, still catching sunoo off guard like the very first time, and oh how he wished he could tell you just how much that smile meant to him. sure, throughout the second half of the semester, things between you two had started to feel a little less awkward. but despite jay’s (unsuccessful) attempts to encourage sunoo to finally tell you about his feelings, the latter didn't want to ruin the comfort you had just found in each other. if being somewhat between a classmate and a friend was the closest he could get to you, then he'd settle for that.

when you arrived to the party hours later that day, people were already gathering in the small place, drinking, chatting, or – unfortunately, if you were to ask sunoo – singing along to the music. and honestly, the place was a little too packed for your liking, yet feeling embraced by sunoo’s warmth next to you, it felt comfortable, somewhat safe.

you grabbed some drinks from the kitchen before pushing through the growing crowd of people, sunoo’s hand softly staying on the small of your back to not lose you. your skin buzzed in the spot where his hand rested, but you tried to shrug the feeling off – unsuccessfully so, for you still felt his touch when it was no longer there and you were just standing across each other, reminiscing about the past semester.

the more people came in, the louder the noise around you grew, forcing you to lean in a bit more whenever the other person said something. when you couldn't hear each other anymore, not even after standing unnervingly close, you exchanged a knowing look, and, without a word, moved to the balcony. there, you both leaned against the railing, enjoying the sudden silence as the city lights softly illuminated the dark sky. although the night air felt cool around you, the warmth of sunoo standing close enough that his arm almost brushed yours seemed enough to keep both of you comfortable.

after a few more beats of silence, sunoo let out a shaky breath, fingers curling around the railing before he turned to you. his eyes found yours, and he didn't know if that was what pushed him, or if it was the alcohol that made his head buzz softly.

“you know,” he started, “i’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

you blinked, the soft buzz in your own head letting his words sink in slower “yeah?” you asked, feeling your heart pick up pace, "me too."

now, it was sunoo’s time to blink a bit taken aback, and the confidence he had brought up from god knows where suddenly vanished. he swallowed, tightening his grip about the railing. "what is it?" he asked quietly, too scared to say what had been on his mind now that he didn't know what was on yours.

"no, you go first."

he hesitated, the previously comfortable silence slowly reaching a point where it began to feel almost unbearable. thinking he wouldn’t speak first, you opened your mouth to beat him to it. but just when you uttered those three words, he did the same.

"i like you," you both said in unison.

for a second, you both froze, wide-eyed.

"what?"

again, the word echoed in both of your voices. you could feel your cheeks warming, and before you could stop it, a small, nervous laugh escaped you.

sunoo blinked, as if too stunned to react, before the tension broke and he chuckled too. the sound of it sent a wave of warmth through you, only intensifying the fluttering in your chest.

"i–" he started, still smiling but a little more serious now. he took a breath before his eyes found yours again. "i've been wanting to say that for a while. longer than i probably should have." though his confession was soft, the sincerity behind it was heavy. his eyes searched yours for a reaction, and you felt your heart flutter yet again.

smiling, you took a step closer. “i just realized recently,” you admitted quietly, “but being with you, it’s just… it feels good.” like coming home after a long day, you wanted to add, but the words got stuck in your throat when sunoo took a small step forward, gently cupping your cheeks with his hands as if it were the most natural thing in the world. his touch was light and careful, like he was waiting for permission. so, with a small nod, you allowed him to close the distance that had always been between you – to finally kiss the lips that, with that laugh long ago, had captured him completely. <3

© dazzlingjaeyun, 2025. please do not copy.

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[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

If Ford had anything in his house that Stan would be interested in reading, Stan's curse may have been noticed sooner. Not by Ford of course. (Aw. Nicola is mimicking me. How sweet!).

By Fiddleford. Fiddleford's thoughts on seeing this cat read are similar to campus cat au. That thing is not a cat and it's obsessed with Ford. I must stop it.

Stan's reaction to Fiddleford being onto him varys depending on when this happens. Before Carla, not thrilled but he tries to convince the lunch meat revoker that he is not evil and that hey, I'm cursed here. Please help. (He still messes with him of course).

After Carla/the call, Stan's thinking to himself that maybe it's for the best if he just stays a cat, so Fiddlenerd figuring out he's cursed isn't something he wants. He just decides to continue messing with him.

The only things i can think of Ford owning that Stan would be interested in reading is the newspaper, mechanical catalogs for cars and such, or books about sailing. Ford sees Stan, curled up looking at a book and pawing at the pages while he's sitting at his desk researching and just instantly melts at the sight of his cat mimicking him. They're bonding! This is how cats show affection! Look at Nikola gently flipping pages occasionally! Just like Ford is doing with his magic tomes! (Stan is so bored. So, so bored, he's trying to pass time reading. But his mouth hurts from trying to hold pens and he's not tired so this is just what he's doing now)

Fiddleford is not charmed by the behavior, at first because 'Stanford, he's going to claw up all your book and get footprints over everything!' Then 'Oh my lord that cat just flipped to the page it left off on yesterday and now that i'm looking closer its eyes are moving across the page and squinting like it understands words'.

Its evil and trying to do something. Based on its behavior and reaction to Fiddleford, he comes to the logical conclusion that it was in the middle of trying to charm Ford into a fariy circle or jump into a hell portal and kidnap his friend. Its a good thing Fiddleford came just in time to put a stop to it, but now its trying to turn Ford against Fiddleford with all its crimes that are just tolerable but still inconveniencing enough that Ford can excuse it and gets huffy when Fiddleford gets mad.

Truly a master manipulator. Maybe a demon (Stan is loving the ability to get away with messing with people. The one good thing about being a cat.)

At no point does he want Fiddleford to be the one to help him. Because in his mind Fiddleford is evil, trying to turn Ford against him. No one's really that nice and caring about people, so Fiddleford must be trying to get something from Ford and is trying to replace Stan in the household. Stan can't let him win of course, its his job to protect Ford from bad influences (no, he's not jealous and only wants Ford to be the one to help him for correct and right reasons, not because he's being petty.)

Then Carla shows up and Fiddleford successfully convinces her that somethings up with Nikola, but not that he's evil. Carla just thinks he's some kind of bizarre magic cat shaped thing thats probably mooching off of Ford and taking advantage of his loneliness for free housing and food, then got attached and is now pretending to be a real cat (somehow the closest to being correct). She attempts to get Stan to 'slip up' on his cat disguise, but since Stan's very much a cat in every sense except mental it fails every time.

[plotbunnysyndrome]

More Than Honour

Chapter 29: The Best of Intentions (and Other Catastrophes)

Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Introduction: They thought the games had ended. They thought the medals and the laughter had closed the story. But the heart has its own tournaments — Ones no one volunteers for. Ones you don't always win.

It began, as most terrible ideas do, in the Bridgerton household’s least supervised corner: Benedict’s studio.

The air smelled of oil paints, turpentine, and unfinished opinions. Sunlight slanted through the high windows, pooling over canvases and crumpled sketches. It was the perfect breeding ground for bad decisions.

Colin burst in, carrying two teacups and absolutely no sense of restraint.

“He looked like he wanted to kiss her,” he announced, without preamble.

Benedict, hunched over a canvas, didn’t even glance up. “Lucien or Anthony?”

Eloise, sprawled across the window bench like a bored cat, didn’t miss a beat. “Exactly.”

A beat of silence. Heavy. Knowing. Slightly charged.

Hyacinth, perched cross-legged on a stool, let her teacup clink a little too perfectly against the saucer. Her eyes gleamed.

“This cannot continue,” she declared. “Someone’s going to end up in tears. And it’s going to be Anthony. And frankly, no one wants to see that. He’s bad enough when he stubs his toe.”

Daphne, who had arrived under the guise of “checking on Benedict”, exhaled into her tea like a woman preparing for war. “We cannot interfere.”

“We must interfere,” Hyacinth countered, nearly vibrating with righteous chaos. “It’s our sibling duty.”

Colin, leaning on the edge of the desk with no regard for Benedict’s art supplies, added, “Edwina is a sweetheart. She doesn’t deserve to be caught in…whatever this is.”

“An emotional thunderdome,” Gregory supplied helpfully from the floor.

Benedict finally looked up, paintbrush in hand, expression bone-dry. “What do you propose? A duel? A séance? Poison Anthony’s tea and hope for clarity in the afterlife?”

“No,”  Hyacinth said, sliding off her stool with the fervor of a general unveiling her battle plan. “We gently—elegantly—nudge Lucien and Edwina together.”

The room fell still.

Eloise blinked. “You mean…redirect the romantic narrative entirely?”

Colin raised a brow. “You’re proposing we reassign the feelings?”

“Exactly!” Hyacinth beamed. “I saw them laughing together after dinner. They would make a good pair. They're both lovely. They're both... available.”

Gregory, eyes wide, nodded like it was gospel. “Like musical chairs. But with love.”

Daphne looked like she was experiencing a migraine in slow motion. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”

Hyacinth had already produced a chart.

“Lucien,” she said, pointing, “is charming, wealthy, scandal-free—shockingly—and enjoys drama. Edwina is sweet, impressionable, and has absolutely no idea she’s in the middle of an emotional minefield.”

Colin looked at the chart like it was a treasure map. “What’s this column labeled ‘explosion risk’?”

“That’s Anthony,” Hyacinth said simply.

The Plan:

Eloise was to distract you ("Just ask her about her latest book. She'll forget the world exists."). Gregory and Colin would orchestrate Lady Danbury’s interference to keep Anthony occupied (“just say the word duty a few times, that’ll send him into an existential crisis”), and Benedict would “casually” escort Lucien toward the garden("You appreciate scenic hedges, don't you?").

Flower petals were somehow acquired. Daphne to somehow play violin from the window without breaking into visible hysterics. Hyacinth to oversee “general atmospheric meddling.” Violet was given a very confusing reason to go shopping with the other two Sharmas.

No flaws. No cracks.

Foolproof.

(Obviously.)

And then…it began.

The Execution:

The garden at Aubrey Hall was radiant in the early afternoon light—fragrant with roses, dappled in gold—and suspiciously littered with flower petals.

Edwina Sharma, book in hand, wandered down the path, her brow faintly furrowed at the sudden and excessive floral ambience.

A string of petals curved unnaturally toward the arched trellis. Beneath it stood a bench. Beside the bench stood Lord Lucien Blackbourne. Perfectly posed. Impossibly nonchalant. As if he had merely happened to wander into a romance novel.

Edwina blinked. “My lord. I didn’t expect—”

Lucien turned, the picture of politeness...and mischief barely restrained.

“Miss Sharma,” he said warmly, bowing slightly. “Forgive me. I was lured here by tales of an unusually dramatic hedge.”

From the bushes, Colin fist-pumped in victory.

Edwina smiled, a little puzzled. “It is...picturesque today.”

“I agree,” Lucien said, looking around with faux curiosity. “Quite dramatic use of petals. One might suspect…orchestration.”

From the shrubbery, Gregory hissed, “Abort! He knows!”

Lucien extended an arm like a perfectly rehearsed gentleman. “Shall we walk?”

Edwina, gracious as ever, accepted. “Of course.”

They began to stroll beneath the trellis.

And then—the violin.

A soft, slightly strangled trill from the top window.

Lucien paused mid-step,  head tilted.

“...Was that music?”

Edwina looked around in confusion. “It...sounded like Vivaldi.”

Daphne, from her perch, pretended very hard to be an innocent breeze.

Lucien sighed. Theatrics, then. He knew this game. But he chose—deliberately, tenderly—to play along.

“Not the worst accompaniment for a stroll,” he said, offering his arm.

“I must admit,” he said, glancing sideways at Edwina with mock solemnity, “this is not the first time I have been led into an orchestrated garden rendezvous.”

She laughed softly, “No?”

“No,” he continued. “Though in fairness, the last time involved a chandelier and considerably more fire.”

“You are joking,” she said, amused.

“Regrettably, I am not.”

Edwina tilted her head, watching him with renewed curiosity. “And did that rendezvous go well?”

Lucien smiled slowly. “It ended in scandal. And someone—” he paused, gazing down the path with meaning, “—not me, nearly combusted.”

Edwina blinked. “Do you mean—?”

“I mean,” he interrupted gently, “you should ask her sometime how she survives being near me.”

Behind the hedges, Eloise gasped. Colin fell sideways into Benedict. Hyacinth squeaked.

Elsewhere in the estate…

Anthony, locked in a conversation with Lady Danbury about Yorkshire land values, suddenly froze mid-sentence. His eyes narrowed. His fingers twitched.

Lady Danbury stopped. “Viscount?”

Anthony’s jaw tensed. “I can sense,” he said slowly, like a man piecing together a psychic crime scene, “that something absolutely horrendous is happening. Somewhere.”

Lady Danbury, without missing a beat:

“Well, that’a first. You’re usually the cause.”

Back in the garden…

They wandered past rose beds and dappled sunlight, Lucien spinning increasingly ridiculous tales of scandalous garden mishaps, each more absurd than the last.

Edwina laughed—truly laughed—and for a moment, the ache behind Lucien’s eyes softened.

This, he thought, was kindness.

Not lies.

Not false hope.

Just giving her a bright afternoon to remember.

At the end of the path, he bowed low.

“Miss Sharma,” he said, voice light, “thank you for indulging a scoundrel’s promenade.”

She curtsied, cheeks flushed with amusement. “It was...unexpectedly delightful.”

As she walked back toward the house, her footsteps soft on the absurdly placed petals, Lucien turned toward the hedges.

He said nothing.

Just lifted one sardonic brow.

And from behind the roses, six Bridgertons ducked out of view like guilty rabbits.

The Debrief:

It was not five minutes after Edwina and Lucien had returned from their scenic walk that the Bridgerton siblings reconvened in Benedict’s studio, which had officially become the headquarters for emotionally irresponsible operations.

The room was in a state of mild panic and even milder denial.

Hyacinth paced, clutching her feelings chart. Gregory was under the table again. Colin spooned jam straight from the jar.

“He knew,” Benedict said, collapsing into a chair and dragging a hand through his curls. “He knew from the start.”

Eloise crossed her arms. “Well of course he knew. He’s Lucien Blackbourne. He probably orchestrated it better than we did.”

“He played along,” Colin said, grinning. “Did you see the way he said ‘combust’? It was theatrical. It was almost kind.”

Daphne, standing at the window with a fresh cup of tea and an expression of weary grace, finally said, “It was chaos.”

“Organized chaos,” Hyacinth corrected, holding up her chart. “I had contingency arrows. We executed it perfectly.”

Gregory, muffled from beneath the table: “You put a violin in a bush.”

“I didn’t ask her to play,” Hyacinth snapped.

“You absolutely did,” Daphne called back, unbothered.

Benedict waved a paintbrush in the air. “Look, the important thing is: Edwina smiled. She laughed. She didn’t seem…miserable.”

Colin chimed in. “Lucien didn’t look miserable either. He looked like a man enjoying the role of a lifetime.”

“He indirectly brought up Y/N,” Eloise muttered, still offended. “I mean—what are we even doing here?”

“Saving everyone from heartbreak,” Hyacinth said brightly, twirling her pencil like a wand. “We are preventing emotional collapse.”

Daphne raised her eyebrows. “Are we?”

The room fell uncomfortably quiet.

Hyacinth’s voice dropped, sincere now. “ We just…we just don’t want Anthony to break again. And we don’t want Lucien to get hurt. And we don’t want Y/N to have to choose between them when she looks like it’s already killing her.”

Benedict looked up at that. So did Colin.

Gregory crawled out from under the table, brushing off dust. “So we are doing it because we care.”

Hyacinth nodded. “Exactly. That’s why it’s fine that it’s a little unhinged.”

The door creaked open.

All heads turned as Lucien stepped inside, utterly calm. 

He glanced around the chaos. At the chart. A t the violin case. At the jam jar.

A living crime scene.

“You know,” he said slowly, “I don’t know whether to be flattered or deeply, deeply concerned.”

Colin opened his mouth.

Lucien raised a hand. “Before you ask—yes. I knew. From the first misplaced petal.”

Eloise cursed under her breath.

Hyacinth dropped her pencil.

Lucien stepped further in, hands behind his back, posture regal. Lucien’s mouth curved—fond, faintly sad. “But for what it’s worth...” 

He looked around at their panicked, hopeful faces.

“At least your hearts were in the right place.”

“Did it…work?” Gregory asked timidly.

Lucien tilted his head, then smiled. “Miss Sharma is lovely. Gentle. Kind. Unaware of the minefield around her.” He paused. “But she is not the woman I’m trying to distract myself from.”

Hyacinth looked vaguely betrayed.

Colin muttered, “I knew it.”

Daphne, sipping her tea: “I told you.”

He smiled—rueful, beautiful.

Lucien moved to the door, pausing just before leaving. He looked over his shoulder, amused. “And for what it’s worth...I approved of the chaos.”

With that, Lucien turned and left, the door falling softly shut behind him.

Leaving behind six Bridgertons, one empty jam jar, and the unmistakable sound of hearts being both broken—and mended.

All at once.

A while later—before dinner.

The drawing room was bathed in the soft spill of early evening light, windows flung open to let in the scent of roses and cooling grass. A string quartet could be heard faintly from the distant music room — one of Violet’s efforts to "civilize" the lingering chaos of the Bridgerton Olympics aftermath.

Anthony sat properly on the settee, posture crisp, voice even.

Edwina perched beside him, luminous in pale blue, her smile easy and undemanding.

Across the room, Kate sat with a hoop of embroidery in her lap, though the needle had not moved in several minutes.

They made polite conversation — as they always did.

Books. Politics. The weather. A witticism from Lady Danbury about marriage being a full-contact sport.

Anthony listened, responded, nodded at the right places.

He was the model of a suitor: gracious, attentive, composed.

Only Kate, watching closely, could see the faint tightness at the edges — like a man gripping the rails of a ship in rough seas.

Edwina set down her teacup, tilting her head in a gesture of casual delight.

“I had the most amusing stroll this afternoon,” she said brightly. “With Lord Blackbourne.”

Anthony’s hand did not quite tighten on his own cup.

Not enough for a scene.

But enough for Kate to see it.

“He is rather charming,” Edwina continued with unthinking fondness. “He made me laugh until I nearly dropped my book.”

There was a beat.

And then Anthony — smooth, precise — said, “Lord Blackbourne’s talents seem boundless.”

The words were impeccably polite.

And yet, something snapped under them.

A thread stretched too thin.

Kate’s eyes narrowed slightly over her embroidery.

Edwina, oblivious, laughed. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Though he does have an easy manner. It must be nice to be so…” she searched for the word, “…unbothered by expectation.”

Anthony’s mouth thinned almost imperceptibly.

Kate’s needle finally moved — just once, stabbing the fabric a bit harder than necessary.

Anthony forced a smile. “A rare gift,” he said. “One not afforded to all of us.”

There it was.

A heartbeat too sharp.

A bitterness he hadn’t meant to show.

Edwina, sensing perhaps some shift she could not name, blinked and smoothed her skirts.

Anthony recovered quickly — offered another compliment, asked after her book, redirected with perfect grace.

But the current had shifted.

Kate could feel it in the air.

And then—

The door opened.

And you stepped in.

You paused on the threshold, caught mid-thought — the gentle conversation, the soft laughter, the perfect tableau of courtship unfolding before you.

Anthony turned his head at the same moment.

And for one suspended second —

You looked at him.

He looked at you.

Neither of you smiled.

The space between you was filled with Edwina’s laughter, the whisper of Kate’s embroidery needle, the golden light of a late summer evening.

And something else.

Something heavier.

You looked away first.

Your heart pinched — a strange, soft ache — as you turned, pretending you had only wandered in by accident.

You slipped back through the door before anyone could call after you.

And as you walked down the hall, the voices behind you growing fainter, you thought — not for the first time:

I have Lucien.

Lucien, who makes the world brighter just by standing beside me.

Lucien, who chooses me without hesitation, without fear.

And yet —

Some tiny traitorous part of you still hurt.

Still wondered.

Still whispered:

"Why wasn’t it ever this easy with him?"

A few minutes later…

The gardens behind Aubrey Hall were quieter now.

The chaos of the day had ebbed into a low hum — distant music, occasional laughter carried on the breeze. But here, tucked away near the old marble fountain, the world felt slower. Smaller. Almost manageable.

You sat on the edge of the fountain, fingers trailing absent shapes in the cool water. Your gown caught the last of the sun, gold-threaded and gossamer, but you barely noticed.

Your mind was elsewhere — walking corridors it shouldn’t.

Turning over glances you hadn’t meant to catch.

Words you hadn’t meant to hear.

You closed your eyes, breathing deep.

And then —

A shadow fell across you.

You opened your eyes to find Simon standing a few feet away, hands casually tucked into his pockets, expression open and deceptively light.

"Well," he drawled, voice low and amused, "either you're hiding from Hyacinth’s next plot... or you've finally accepted that the only sane course of action in this house is strategic retreat."

A corner of your mouth lifted, just barely.

"Maybe a bit of both," you murmured.

Simon’s smile deepened — but it was gentle.

He walked over, dropped into a seat beside you, sprawling with the kind of ease only earned by years of surviving Bridgerton-level chaos.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

The fountain burbled softly between you. A rose petal floated past your fingers.

Finally, Simon tilted his head to look at you.

"You know," he said conversationally, "I’ve watched armies prepare for less brutal campaigns than what’s brewing inside that house."

You snorted, soft and involuntary.

Simon bumped his shoulder lightly against yours.

"And the funny thing is," he added, "everyone’s so busy guarding their own territory... they've all forgotten to check if the battlefield itself wanted a war."

You went very still.

He wasn’t looking at you — not directly.

But you could feel the weight of the question beneath his casual words.

Are you alright?

Do you want any of this?

Has anyone even asked you?

You stared into the fountain. Watched the ripples distort your reflection.

"I didn’t start it," you said quietly, your voice barely above the whisper of the water.

"But... maybe I didn’t stop it either."

Simon hummed low in his throat — a sound of understanding, not judgment.

"Hard thing, isn’t it?" he said softly. "When the heart wants to be chosen... but doesn’t want to choose."

Your throat tightened unexpectedly.

Simon leaned back, arms stretched lazily across the fountain edge, eyes half-lidded against the setting sun.

"I spoke to Lucien," he said after a moment. "He’s... careful. Trying not to break anything he can’t fix."

"And Anthony?" you asked before you could stop yourself.

Simon’s smile thinned.

"Anthony," he said carefully, "is trying very hard not to want what he’s already halfway lost."

The breeze stirred your hair.

You closed your eyes, swallowing down the messy knot rising in your chest.

Simon’s voice was kinder now. Lower.

"And you," he murmured, "are standing in the middle of all of it — pretending you aren’t bleeding."

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it.

Simon didn’t comment. Didn’t reach for you.

He just... stayed.

Solid. Warm. Quiet.

A tether, in a house spinning out of control.

After a long moment, you wiped your face with the heel of your hand, laughing weakly.

"Hyacinth would call me a tragic heroine," you muttered.

Simon grinned.

"She’d call you an icon," he corrected. "And then she’d start a revolution in your name."

You laughed for real this time — wet and cracked, but real.

Simon bumped your shoulder again, light and familiar.

"No more battles tonight, hmm?" he said, tilting his head. "Let the fools fight themselves into exhaustion. You deserve a little peace."

You nodded, your heart lighter by a fraction.

Simon stood, offering you a hand like a knight out of some battered, chaotic fairytale.

You took it.

And for the first time that day —

You didn’t feel quite so alone.

Back at the house…

The hallway outside the drawing room was steeped in soft golden light.

You barely had time to breathe after Simon left you — an arm of warmth and steadiness escorting you back inside — before you spotted her.

Kate.

Standing by the side table where fresh flowers had been placed, one hand trailing the stem of a rose absently, the other tucked neatly behind her back.

She smiled when she saw you. But it was a quieter smile than usual.

Almost…weighted.

You approached, careful not to startle whatever strange peace was holding the air between you.

“Miss Sharma,” you greeted, voice soft.

She chuckled — but the sound didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“We are past such formalities, are we not?”

You smiled, heart squeezing with unexpected affection. “Kate.”

She nodded once. “May I have a word?”

You glanced toward the drawing room — where Anthony and Edwina still lingered — and back again.

“Of course.”

Kate hesitated.

The sunlight caught the side of her face, outlining the determined tilt of her chin — the same stubborn set you recognized in yourself sometimes.

The one that masked fear with duty.

She folded her arms lightly.

Not confrontational.

Protective.

“Forgive me if I overstep,” she said.

“But I am…concerned.”

Your throat tightened before your mind even caught up.

Concerned.

Not accusing.

Not blaming.

Just concerned.

“For Edwina?” you asked quietly.

Kate’s gaze flickered — just for a breath — before steadying.

“She is…young. Sweet. She believes in love stories.”

A beat.

“She believes Anthony might be hers.”

You pressed your hands together, fingers tight against the fabric of your skirts, anchoring yourself.

“I know,” you whispered. “I have seen it.”

Kate watched you carefully.

Weighing. Measuring.

“And you?” she asked.

It was not a cruel question.

It was a terrifying one.

You forced a smile, felt it tremble at the edges.

“I am only here to help them, Kate. That was always my intention.”

You tried to laugh lightly. “It is supposed to be them. Everyone has said so. Violet asked me to help him find happiness. And he seems to have found it — with Edwina.”

Kate didn’t correct you.

Didn’t soften.

Only looked at you for a long, terrible moment —a woman who understood how easily duty could turn into sacrifice.

And then, gently:

“You may have convinced yourself, Miss Y/N,” she said. “But you have not convinced the room.”

Your heart stuttered.

Kate stepped closer — not menacing, not unkind — but unflinching.

“I have seen the way Anthony looks at you,” she murmured.

“And I have seen the way you look at him — when you believe no one is watching.”

You inhaled sharply.

Kate shook her head, almost ruefully. “I am not here to accuse you. You have been nothing but gracious. Loyal.”

A faint smile.

“But sometimes…being good is not enough to change the truth.”

The words thudded against your ribs.

You opened your mouth.

Closed it.

Kate’s voice softened.

“He is trying, you know. Trying so hard to be the man Edwina deserves. Trying to be…safe.”

The word safe twisted something inside you.

Safe. Stable. Predictable.

Everything Anthony thought he owed the world.

Not what set his soul alight.

Not what made his hands tremble when he brushed yours by accident.

You swallowed, fighting down the ache.

“I would never hurt Edwina,” you said fiercely.

“I would never hurt Anthony.”

Kate’s eyes, dark and wise, seemed to see everything you didn’t want her to see.

“I know.”

Silence bloomed between you.

Then — softer, almost kind:

“You will not have to choose, Miss Y/N,” Kate said. “Fate will do it for you. One way or another.”

And with that, she pressed a light hand to your forearm —a gesture that somehow felt like both warning and blessing —and slipped away down the hall, leaving you alone in the golden dusk.

You stood there, heart hammering, the taste of unspoken things heavy on your tongue.

From the nearby parlor, you could still hear Edwina laughing.

You could still hear Anthony’s low, careful voice.

And for the first time, you realized that loving someone quietly might still tear the world apart.

Even if you never spoke the words.

Even if you never touched.

Even if you did everything right.

The hallway was empty now.

Kate's words still echoed behind your ribs —sharp, soft, inevitable.

You turned, meaning to leave the weight of Kate’s words behind you,

only to find someone already waiting near the open door.

Lucien.

He wasn’t looking at you at first.

He was studying the wainscoting like it had said something mildly offensive, hands loosely folded behind his back, jacket rumpled just enough to suggest he'd abandoned stiffness somewhere along the way.

When he heard your step, he glanced up —and for a moment —something flickered.

Quick.

Real.

Gone in a blink.

By the time you met his eyes, Lucien was smiling.

Not broadly.

Not falsely.

But with the kind of lightness a man crafts when he knows the weight isn’t yours to carry.

"Angel," he said, voice warm and easy, like a hand smoothing down a storm. "You survived the parlour gauntlet. Should I summon a laurel wreath?"

You breathed out a sound — not quite a laugh, but close enough.

Lucien stepped closer, casually —close enough that if the world were kinder, he could have reached for your hand without thinking.

But he didn’t touch you.

He just tipped his head — playful, careful — as though offering you the choice.

"Or are we at the stage where only brandy can save the day?"

You smiled weakly. "I might be tempted."

His mouth curved — soft, conspiratorial.

Still easy.

Still safe.

"Tempted, Angel?" he said lightly. "You wound me. I thought we were long past temptation. You know I’d orchestrate a scandalous escape for you without even wrinkling my cravat."

You laughed then, real and low — the sound of it surprising even yourself.

Lucien’s gaze warmed further —as if the world, for all its fractures, could still be pieced together when you smiled.

And even though the moment was fragile —even though something heavy still twisted under your ribs —Lucien kept the air between you weightless.

He gestured toward the open door with an exaggerated bow.

"Shall we, Angel?" he said, voice full of velvet mischief. "The night awaits. And so, I imagine, does another round of artfully polite chaos."

You hesitated — just for a second.

Lucien noticed.

Of course he did.

But he didn’t ask.

Didn’t press.

He just offered you his arm — a perfect, unspoken shield.

You took it —and he tucked you against his side with a familiarity that didn’t demand anything.

Didn’t claim anything.

And with that, you walked back inside — together.

Taglist: @bollzinurmouth @drewstarkeysrightarm @thorins-queen-of-erebor @yearninglustfully @khaleesibeach @ifilwtmfc

[marwyn]

Some parallels between Jaime and Rhaegar in regard to gender subversion

1. Gender swap with love interest

After the second time he fell from the saddle, they bound him tight to Brienne of Tarth and made them share a horse again. One day, instead of back to front, they bound them face-to-face. “The lovers,” Shagwell sighed loudly, “and what a lovely sight they are. ‘Twould be cruel to separate the good knight and his lady.” Then he laughed that high shrill laugh of his, and said, “Ah, but which one is the knight and which one is the lady?” (ASOS, Jaime IV)

It was a good story, Bran decided after thinking about it a moment or two. “Then what happened? Did the Knight of the Laughing Tree win the tourney and marry a princess?” (ASOS, Bran II)

2. Implicitly compared to the Maiden

“Ser Galladon was a champion of such valor that the Maiden herself lost her heart to him. She gave him an enchanted sword as a token of her love. The Just Maid, it was called. No common sword could check her, nor any shield withstand her kiss. Ser Galladon bore the Just Maid proudly, but only thrice did he unsheathe her. He would not use the Maid against a mortal man, for she was so potent as to make any fight unfair.” (AFFC, Brienne IV)

When Brienne went to draw her sword, she found her scabbard empty. “No,” she cried, as Ser Clarence charged. It wasn’t fair. She could not fight without her magic sword. Ser Jaime had given it to her. (AFFC, Brienne VIII)

Rylona Rhee had played the harp as sweetly as the Maiden. (ADWD, Daenerys II)

He went to the window seat, picked up a harp, and ran his fingers lightly over its silvery strings. Sweet sadness filled the room as man and wife and babe faded like the morning mist, only the music lingering behind to speed her on her way. (ACOK, Daenerys IV)

3. Plays the archetypal role of the fairy lady in Arthurian romance

Jaime, Rhaegar

4. Doubled with sister

The queen. And now Bran recognized the man beside her. They looked as much alike as reflections in a mirror. (AGOT, Bran I)

Twins, male and female. They looked very much the part this morning. Both had chosen a deep green that matched their eyes. Their blond curls were all a fashionable tumble, and gold ornaments shone at wrists and fingers and throats. (AGOT, Tyrion I)

The knight gave her a curious look. “You are your brother’s sister, in truth.” “Viserys?” She did not understand. “No,” he answered. “Rhaegar.” (AGOT, Daenerys VII)

[…] her brother Rhaegar, mounted on a stallion as black as his armor. Fire glimmered red through the narrow eye slit of his helm. “The last dragon,” Ser Jorah’s voice whispered faintly. “The last, the last.” Dany lifted his polished black visor. The face within was her own. (AGOT, Daenerys IX)

[anim-ttrpgs]

Why You Should Try Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy Part 10: It Has Intense Action

This is part 10 of a multi-part series of posts about the awesome features of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, in no particular order.

Find the earlier parts here:

Part 1 Link: We Worked Hard on It!

Part 2 Link: It's Easy to Learn!

Part 3 Link: It's Easy to GM!

Part 4 Link: It's Easy to GM and Supports Narrative and Roleplay!

Part 5 Link: It Revolutionizes Investigation and Mystery Solving in TTRPGs

Part 6 Link: PCs are Not Just Mystery Solving Automatons

Part 7 Link: Excellent Time-Keeping Mechanics Keep the Pressure On

Part 8 Link: Fun and Easy Character Creation

Part 9 Link: Themes of Disability

For a while in its development, Eureka had a section dedicated to combat, but now that section is more broadly called “dangerous situations.” It’s rare, but dangerous situations will inevitably come up. The question is, will the PCs be prepared for them? Eureka has rules to cover everything from gunshot wounds to car crashes, from falling off buildings to drowning. If something bad can happen to a person, there’s probably a section in the rulebook covering how it would affect a Eureka PC mechanically. A lot of the times the answer will be they die, but how fast they die, and what they can do to save themselves in that time, is crucial.

Eureka takes a very “trad RPG” approach to this sort of thing, where violence and other dangers are something highly lethal, and therefore best avoided if the PCs are smart, but that the nature of what they’re doing means that it’s bound to happen eventually, and therefore the game rules need to provide a lot of “tools” and options within those situations, thereby creating agency over whether they live or die. PCs do not necessarily have to have “good” combat stats to survive, as many players so far can attest. It encourages them to be clever and cautious about things, and allows them to exorcise that cleverness and caution, without bogging the game down in too many numbers or charts.

Weapons will usually take any character down in one to two hits, and even when unarmed, characters have a wide variety of techniques that they can attempt, including the world’s first ever TTRPG grappling rules that are actually fun and advantageous!

Guns are as deadly in Eureka as in real life, and the type of gun matters a lot. That isn’t to say the exact model makes a huge difference, that would be too granular for what we’re attempting to do. A Glock 19 and a Beretta 92 would both fall under “Semi-Automatic Pistol” and function identically. Trust us, this all runs smoothly once you read it.

Bullets do 4 Penetrative Damage each, and most firearm categories are capable of firing multiple bullets within a single turn, each rolled separately. Direct hits are usually fight-ending, but that isn’t as easy as it sounds. Even with a high Firearms skill, these shots are being taken under extreme duress, and factors like cover, distance, movement, etc. will affect them too. Most shots fired will miss, and you might think that would be boring, but it’s not because of the next thing I’m going to talk about.

The Woo Roll

Named after director John Woo, the Woo Roll is a mechanic that’s makes it so that bullets don’t just disappear into thin air when they miss.

When any shot misses, a Woo Roll is made, which means something is going to happen that changes the situation as a result of that shot. (That’s one Woo Roll per turn, no matter whether one or thirty shots miss.) This roll determines whether the effect is good or bad for the shooter. A good result might mean that the shot hits a fire extinguisher behind the target, spraying him with foam and gas, disrupting his next shot. A bad result might mean the shot hits a gas line, and now the building is on fire. Usually the rule is that it’s whatever the most obvious and interesting thing within the confines of being good or bad for the shooter, but if there isn’t anything around, then we also have tables you can roll on.

Chase Mechanics

Combat is only likely to last a few rounds, but everything characters do in those rounds is crucial. These situations dynamic and deadly, and evolve rapidly, and if things are going south, run away!

Eureka has rules and incentives that can quickly shift the location of a conflict as one or more parties tries to flee. This works pretty similarly to combat, but, of course, the parties are moving and fighting across larger areas, causing the situation to evolve even more rapidly. Characters will have to overcome obstacles to keep ahead of their pursuers or catch up to their targets. These obstacles are rolled on a table that matches the environment the chase is happening in, heres a few highlights [images of entries]

As you can probably see, some of these obstacles can take a character out as easily as an enemy could. The kind of dynamic, cinematic car and foot chases these rules create are always something special.

[celestriix]

thinking about klavier gavin again because i saw someone say that the fact that he's the only prosecutor in the series who wants to find the truth and isn't insanely obsessed with winning like the other prosecutors makes him really boring

and i understand it to some extent when comparing him to other prosecutors but... Klavier Gavin??? BORING????

after playing aa4 i was OBSESSED with klavier gavin and the untouched potential of this guy

he loses his best friend/bandmate, his brother AND his mentor in the span of like a year?? i think??? which is INSANE.

there's something very tragic about klavier, a person who values finding the truth above all else, finding out that two of the people closest to him betrayed his trust and lied to him and used him for their own means AND ARE MURDERERS.

and then his mentor, a person who taught that seeking the truth is what a lawyer should do, gets murdered by a person who believes that winning in trials is the most important thing above all else WHICH IS THE SAME EXACT THING THAT KRISTOPH VALUED AS WELL !!!

this core belief of finding out the truth that klavier has, leads him to finding out about the things that daryan and kristoph did, and even though they are important to him, people he CARES about, he continues to work with apollo to see that justice is served.

and the fact that we don't get to see anything of klavier getting any closure after the events of aa4 makes me insane

we never get to see much of klavier's feelings on what happened or him fully processing the events of aa4 and that one case in aa5 and it makes me soooo upset. i wish he got more than that little cameo in aa5 and that one tiny flashback appearance in aa6.

in an alternate universe, aa4 got a true sequel that fully explored klavier's character, as well as phoenix's, klavier's, AND apollo's relationship with kristoph, and klavier's relationship with phoenix post-aa4, and also a more thought out? (for the lack of a better word) backstory for apollo, and an exploration of the jury system, and a game that ACTUALLY built upon the foundation that aa4 laid out.

and i am forever upset that we are not in that alternate universe.

[youronlybean]

ITS ZE’S BIRTHDAY!! MY STREAMERRRR 🎉

side note: Ze in glasses >>>>>>>>>

[tsatsked]

my Cool Hat tierlist fueled by my irritation about Yenisei's hat (playaple characters up to ver2.5 i1 uncluded)

[nagitosstolenhand]

hate when people feel the need to woobify and make akaza more of a 'moral' character so they feel less guilty about liking him and writing him as a complex character. he's a murderer. he has murdered and eaten innocent people. hes not a savior or genuine outseeking protector of woman, he just doesn't kill them and expresses some semblance of disgust at douma targeting woman to kill specifically. he does have a weird set of morals unlike most of the demons (ex: him refusing to turn people into demons without their consent) but him having some semblance of morals that he abides by does not make him a justifiable person. HES CANONICALLY AN ASSHOLE AND A BAD PERSON. STOP BEING A COWARD AND LET HIM BE AN ASSHOLE.

[annegroves]

Started reading tsats for the fuck of it and lord you guys werent kidding it really is that bad

[wackywatchdotcom]

realizing just how LONG its been since ive posted a ragatha comic. i need to do that again its been too long despite the fact that i think most of my best work wrt tadc has been my ragatha stuff...

hey wait wtf i posted this and tumblr deleted like the last 12 tags. what the hell . that sucks. maybe i hit tag limit and it just didnt tell me or stop me from adding more tags...

[moregraceful]

many things i have been keeping under wraps at work, such as pronouns, but also, very critically, age. bc i got that ageless mixed race asian swag where i am very clearly not an undergrad but also??? they just don't know. and it WHIPS and it is so funny to ME because all the managers and shift supervisors are like damn this girl in her mid-twenties is so easy to talk to, it's like talking to a peer. surprise bitch i'm older than you. and maybe this means i'm performing psychological experiments on cis men, but i am ngl if i hand you a two page resume that you don't read, it is simply none of MY business if you think i am in my mid-20s. they are going to be so mad when they find out lmao

[boxwinebaddie]

not me making rm!clyde half filipino so i can rep my heritage