#wow it's like a metaphor or something huh

[luv-beam]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

• tulip... brb while i burst into tears

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

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

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

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

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

• THE RETURN OF THE TAPESTRY METAPHOR

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Somerset Affair | Chapter 1: Whispers in the Garden

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

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

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

Age 8

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe Seokmin isn't such a scoundrel after all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Age 14

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Dearest Y/N,

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

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

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

Yours most fondly,Seokmin

My Dearest Seokmin,

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

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

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

With all my affection,Y/N

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

Age 15:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Dearest Seokmin,

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

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

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

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

With all my love and deepest sympathies,Y/N

My Dearest Tulip,

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

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

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

With heartfelt gratitude and affection,Seokmin

Age 16: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

My dearest Tulip, 

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

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

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

With the utmost affection,Seokmin

My dearest Seokmin, 

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

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

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

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

With all my affection,Y/N

Age 17: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My dearest Seokmin, 

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

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

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

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

With warmest regards and hopeful heart,Your Tulip

My Dearest Tulip,

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

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

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

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

Your most loyal servant,Seokmin

Dearest Sister, 

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

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

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

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

With all my love, Minghao

Dearest Brother, 

I say this with the utmost love and devotion:

Damn you. 

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

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

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

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

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

Age 18: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, the trees whisper, urging you to reconsider.

Could it be…love?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #145

Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction - practically first drafts - posted daily (haven't missed one yet!) and sometimes written with the express intention of being terrible… but, you know, in an endearing way. Please like and reblog if you enjoy - the notes keep me going!

I awoke one leisurely Saturday morning with a satisfying stretch and a calm breath in my lungs. For once, I had no obligations. Today was my day.

I yawned and folded the covers over with a promise that I'd be right back. I sat up, took a sip of water, and walked over to the door.

Wait. Where did the door go?

I patted the wall where the door should have been. It felt just like any other part of the wall. No door frame, no wet paint, and especially no memory of someone removing my door last night, which I think I'd have noted.

I walked over to the window to open it, but it was painted shut. Just as well - I lived on the fourth floor. No chance I was escaping that way.

I was still feeling a little groggy, so I would have happily just gone back to sleep, but the bathroom was across the hall from the door I no longer had, and I wasn't in a mood to squat in the corner.

I banged on the wall. “Hello? Hello? Anyone know what happened to my bedroom door?”

No response.

“Someone must have taken it! I don't know how you did it, but put my door back! It's not funny!”

Still nothing. I opened the closet, thinking maybe there was something in there I could use, but nothing. I needed to break through this wall somehow. Then I remembered - I always kept a fire extinguisher in the bottom drawer of my nightstand.

I pulled it out and slammed it repeatedly into the wall, denting the sheetrock. This was my ticket out, it must be. I broke through the first layer to see the inside of the wall and pulled off chunks of broken pieces. I slammed into the other side and it reverberated through my bones.

Metal on metal. I couldn't break through. I threw the extinguisher to the ground and fell to my knees. No way out.

[fawn-tongues]

Loop and Mirabelle hours (3am)

[olymphianblood]

ok guys its not funny anymore when is d&p hard lauching im starting to getting anxious /hj

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters Meet Non-Cosmere Sanderson Characters

As requested by anon. :)

Namely, Sanderson characters from non-Cosmere works I've actually read, aka Skyward and Frugal Wizard.

1. Ryan Chu (Frugal Wizard) and Amaram (Stormlight)

Ryan: What DOES Sanderson have against handsome, highly competent people? Amaram: I don't know. He just hates us. Ryan: Are we too good at our jobs? Amaram: Are we too handsome? Ryan: Too good with the ladies? Amaram: Too effective in battle? Ryan: Is it that we maybe slightly screw over his precious main character while working on something greater? Amaram: He's SUCH an unforgiving author.

2. Jorgen & Spensa (Skyward) and Vin & Elend (Mistborn)

Vin (narrowing her eyes at Jorgen): You look like a man from a highly wealthy, politically influential background who has a strained relationship with his father, especially after you fall in love with a badass, combative woman from the "wrong" side of society who has special powers needed to save the day. Spensa (narrowing her eyes at Vin): And I'm getting the sense that you had to fight really hard for everything in your life but never gave up, and that you didn't like your man initially because he seemed wealthy and stuck up but eventually you realized that he matched your freak pretty exactly. Jorgen: Oh wow, we definitely need to set up a double date! Elend: Did we just become best friends?

3. Cobb (Skyward) and Harmony (Mistborn)

Cobb: ...and it's honestly horrible, constantly loading children into that munitions chamber to be spent into empty shells. Harmony: I know what you mean. Every time I cannot act, I have to call upon Wax to be my gun once again. Cobb: And then they go out... Harmony: And then he goes out... Cobb: And they die! Harmony: And he kills tons of people! Cobb: ... Harmony: ... Cobb: I think you got your metaphor backwards there, friend. Harmony: I think it's you.

4. John (Frugal Wizard) and Painter (Yumi)

John: [holds out his hand for a fist bump] John: Fellow loser protagonist? My man. Painter: I-I'M NOT FIST BUMPING TO THAT

5. Kimmalyn (Skyward) and Adolin (Stormlight)

Adolin: It can be tough to be the most emotionally intelligent person in the cast, huh? Kimmalyn: Tough? I dunno about that! I like being able to help my friends! Adolin: I mean, me too! Adolin: But we're both so friendly and mostly upbeat that I think people sometimes forget we have our own problems. Kimmalyn: Yeah...I missed some shots that haunted me for a long time... Adolin: And I stabbed a guy through the eye in an alley. Kimmalyn: Well, bless your stars!

6. Sefawynn (Frugal Wizard) and Demoux (Mistborn/Stormlight)

Demoux: Off-worlders giving you a hard time? Sefawynn: I'm sorry? Demoux: People from other worlds? Coming to your planet and messing everything up? Sound familiar? Sefawynn: My husband is from another world. Sefawynn: I would not say that he "messed things up." He helped save us. Demoux: [Crumping up a Seventeenth Shard pamphlet in frustration] How great for you.

7. Spensa (Skyward) and Jasnah (Stormlight Archive)

Jasnah: So these "Cytonic" abilities of yours give you access to the "Nowhere." Spensa: That's right. Why? Jasnah: Which is some kind of extra-dimensional space that exists alongside your "normal" space where time is strange and timeless creatures exist? Spensa: The Delvers, yeah. Jasnah: You are basically a sci-fi Eslecaller. Spensa: ... Spensa: A what?

8. M-Bot (Skyward) and Nightblood (Warbreaker/Stormlight)

M-Bot: Hiiii! Nightblood: Hello!!! M-Bot: I can already tell that you're a kindred spirit. Nightblood: Yeah!! M-Bot: Do you want to read my ongoing work "The Greater Argument for Human Origination Chaos" (GAFHOC)? Nightblood: Well I don't think I can read, but you can tell me about? M-Bot: My main thesis is that "humans are weird." Nightblood: ...And evil? M-Bot: No, gotta go with "weird." Weird creatures, humans. Nice. Squishy sometimes. But weird. Nightblood: Mmmm...I think you're missing the "evil" part. Nightblood: I was created to destroy evil, you know! M-Bot: I was created to document mushrooms! Maybe! Nightblood: Does the "M" stand for Mushrooms? M-Bot: Yes! Or possibly "massacre" according to Spensa. Nightblood: Ooooh, I like "massacre." Massacre is cooler than mushrooms! M-Bot: Uh, you haven't seen my very cool mushrooms. Nightblood: Well, let's see them. M-Bot: I love having a friend!

[daenysthedreamersblog]

SECRET OF US - VI

us.

that night you were talkin' false prophets and profits

they make in the margins of poetry sonnets

you never read up on it shame, could've learned something

Robert Bly on my nightstand, gifts from you, how ironic

masterlist // previous chapter // next chapter

summary: you promised him a date, a date without mistrust and contention...you should have never made that promise as you're dragged deeper towards an admission you can't face

pairings: modern!coriolanus snow x reader

warnings: MDNI! swearing, drinking, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex (yk what hell ya)

notes: omg i meant to have this out friday but i rewrote the whole middle and with the holidays it set me back so much. legit spent 20min on my phone the whole past week

You don't dare tell Arachne or Clem as you swipe the lipgloss along your lips. You wished you could, wished your friends were helping you get ready, laughing about silly things. You frowned at your reflection, what were you so ashamed of, why were you hiding?

He finally bested you huh? Arachne's voice snaked through your head rattling a metaphorical tail. Don't be so surprised when he breaks your little heart. A small laugh. Or you break his.

Clemensia looked disappointed, He's using you. Soft hands landed on your shoulders. He's as selfish and manipulative as they come, let this go before you're in too far. Let this go before he looks too deep.

You sighed placing your head in your hands; no they couldn't know, not yet at least, not until you could figure out his intentions, or yours for that matter. There's a knock on your door and you slowly make your way over to it, to him.

"Hi." He looks so handsome in a well pressed button up and slick coat to ward away the lingering winter and you're sure he could take over the world looking like that. "These are for you." He holds out the bouquet of white roses.

You take them, backing up to allow him inside. "Thank you." You say digging through cabinets for a vase. 

"You...uh...You look nice." 

You smirk over at him cutting the stems, "Geez was that truly so difficult for you."

"No." He glared as you placed the roses in water.

"Do I make you nervous Snow?"

He scoffed, "Shut up let's go."

"Wow skip the pleasantries huh?" You joke sliding on heels, grabbing your own coat, and following him out. 

"You know me too well." But he helped you slip into your coat once the door was locked behind you, hands lingering too long in all the right places. 

You glanced over your shoulder at him, "Do I?" Because sometimes you felt like you barely knew him at all beneath hidden layers neither of you should dig up. He doesn't answer only tugs at your waist to keep you walking. "Did you call an Uber?"

"No." His jaw ticked as cold air blew your hair back. He walked a few steps forward to the sleek black car and pulled the door open for you. "Get in." He said tightly before you could even ask and got in quickly behind you. You raised a brow, "Don't even say it."

You shoved it all down, relaxing into the car's leather seat. "I was just gunna ask where we're going."

He turned his head away to hide the little grin, "No you weren't." The car is filled with silence, the slight tapping of your foot against the car floor the only annoying noise. "Fine. Ask."

"The car?"

He sighed, "The Plinth's."

"I thought..." You chewed on your cheek knowing this was not the subject to be breeched right now. "Never mind." Later, you'd ask later, or never you weren't sure when they were involved if you even wanted to know truly. He had become so upset when you had thrown their names back at him, and he obviously hadn't spent time with them during the holidays. You tuck it away readjusting yourself into the seat as you drove towards your date. You wanted to laugh at how ridiculous this all was; Coriolanus Snow taking you out on some date. "Hey, since we agreed on the no feuding and armor...let's try to be...nice to one another." It was a rule you're sure neither one of you could stick to.

"No snide remarks? No japes?" He came closer until his leg pressed into yours.

You nodded, "No glaring."

Two fingers tilt your chin up towards his face, "My sword is at your feet." His lips brush against yours. Your breath halts in your lungs waiting on bated breath for his kiss, "Will you surrender yours?" He whispers into your mouth his fingers running up your thigh, you let him, let him inch ever closer to the heat pulsing out of you.

Your rigid as his finger dip into your inner thigh feeling them part involuntarily. Yes. You want to say, want him to sprawl you over these leather seats to take you right here, right now. He smiles along your lips knowing it all too well; it was a trick to have you admit defeat all the same, to see if you were sticking true to your word about trying to be open to him. You pull back, "That's a tall ask."

"I'm a tall man." You glare at the him and his laughter is felt deep within your body. His fingers disappear under the hem of your dress, "There she is, never too far. I adore your glare, your claws, kitten." With the faintest feather light touch the pad of his finger ghost over the front of your underwear as you take in a sharp breath from his mouth. "Come on," His drags his knuckles up until the push gently into your clit. "Don't you want me to touch you? To make the driver take us back to my place while I make you whimper out my name from that wicked mouth."

You think you just might say anything, do anything to make him keep touching you, it had been your ask after all and you did want it, want him. But to be nice and to give over to him completely were two different things and you couldn't trust him; his sword may be down but he could just as easily take a hidden dagger to your back. You jut your bottom lip out to try and capture his, the submission a pathetic breath away when theres a knock on the window.

He chuckles slowly peeling his hand away, nearly eliciting a whine from your throat. You hated how badly you wanted him to touch you, hated how you wanted to scream his name out of these tinted windows, hated that he wouldn't give you that just yet, hated that he was making you work for it. He moves to open the door helping you outside into cool air that is welcomed against feverish skin. You're out of it, disoriented, you barely recognize where you're going until the bright cat walk comes into view. You're finally able to make sense enough of it to put the pieces together.

"Tigris." You say out loud before turning to look up at him. "She was launching a new line, this is her show." Something like a proud smile fights its way across his face as he nods; you return it. "Let's go find our seats then."

It's beautiful, filled with every color imaginable, bright fabrics of animal print you never knew even existed and feathers, tons of feathers in heavily powdered tall neon wigs. You glance over at him, an expression of comfort, but also grief written across his features as he watches the models pass. You want to reach out, grab his hand, but you can only cradle your palms in your lap.

That was the issue wasn't it? You had always promised to never let anyone in too close, to never let your guard down. It would only distract you, deter you from your goals...well your father's goals for you. So how could you ever let him in, how could you ever yield to the very man you had sworn to gut, who had made his own promise to do the same. It had always been anger, and hatred and competition. It had always been a game, and this final round would truly determine who wins.

You picked at your nails. There were new memories, new feelings; joy and sympathy and curiosity for him, with him. This passionate desire was the embodiment of all of those loathsome feelings coming through in a new way, there was no other explanation.

You glanced over at him as he clapped for the last model, you had to win, there was no other way to keep your heart safe. This passionate desire was the embodiment of all of those loathsome feelings coming through in a new way, there was no saner explanation.

"Come on," He motioned for you to take his arm. He led you away towards back stage where his cousin stood.

Her eyes brightened when she saw him. "Coryo!" She rushed over cupping his face before hugging him tightly. "I'm so glad you came."

He hugged her back. "Wouldn't miss it for the world." He pulled away from her slightly revealing you, "I want you to meet someone."

She took you in whatever joy she found in her cousin was gone as she recognized you no doubt. You held out your hand and introduced yourself anyways, "It was a wonderful show."

"Thank you." She shook your hand eyes confused as she looked to Coriolanus.

You took your hand back, "We went to school together."

She smiled, it was fake. "Yes, yes now that's where I've seen you before."

You didn't feel like explaining, he could do that later when you weren't around. "You know that play I'm in." She nodded at him while he looked at you, "She's in it with me as well it's how we became...friends."

"I can't wait to see it." She cups his face again with one gentle hand. "We're having a little after party at some shitty dive bar do you guys want to join?"

The two of you share a look before Coriolanus takes your hand shrugging. "Sure it will be better than the place I picked out."

It was everything a fancy restaurant was not; loud and gaudy, cheap and sticky, neon beer signs littering the back wall, and filled with older couples and too young college students who's fakes would never get them in anywhere else. You're overdressed, Coriolanus is too, but you didn't care, not as you carry two drinks to the pool table where he's breaking. 

"This is supposed to be a date kitten." He takes his drink from you as you grab the pool stick.

"I'm being nice."

He scoffs, "That's a first."

You roll your eyes, "Never mind then." He grabs the middle of the stick to keep you rooted urging you to continue. "That truce lasted shorter than the first one." You chuckle staring up at him, "What was the other place?"

"It was stuffy and overrated." He lets go laughing slightly. You walk around the table, "I should have known better to go to some overly priced restaurant with tiny portions that reeks of your father." He leans against the table watching you line up the cue ball. "You hate that stuff."

You knock a stripe in the hole and stand up straight. "I was being immature about all of that, there's some stuff I do enjoy." You did hate the reminder of your father, but it was a resentment you needed to face or let go.

He feigns shock, "Admitting immaturity? Am I in an alternate universe."

You shake your head to yourself and walk back around towards him holding out the stick for him. "I'm on a date with you so probably."

He wraps his hand around it, but uses it to pull you closer, "Are you enjoying it?"

"We'll see." You smile up at him biting back the honest answer. It felt nice, the banter without the hatred behind it, knowing he could kiss you, you could kiss him. The air felt lighter, sweeter, like the world had opened up to opportunities you never knew existed. You feel like your tucked away from reality until your eyes meet Tigris across the room and you recognize the worry for her cousin, you didn't blame her, she knew you, she knew him, and no amount of watered down beer would hide that.

Coriolanus takes the stick to walk around the table. "Answer me after I've beat you in pool."

"Oh please."

He does beat you, at least at that round. He orders food while you set up the next round sipping on your first drink from the night. You watch him over the table, lining up to hit the cue ball into the triangle of multicolored balls, and you're not nervous. You used to drown the anxiety in alcohol at the mere thought of being around him, using it as a crutch to excuse thoughts you didn't want to examine. 

"Do you want another?" He points the tip of his stick at your empty drink.

You shake your head, the small smile on your lips. "Maybe a soda." He raises his eyebrow at you as he hands the stick off to you. You weren't nervous anymore. You didn't want the excuses. You liked his company. You liked kissing him. It didn't need to be more complicated than that. Maybe it didn't need to be about winning or losing.

"Tell me something real about you." You sink three solids into holes before looking up at him.

"I ate paste as a child." He shrugged.

"How did it taste."

He smirked, "Pasty." He misses and the cue ball ends up in the corner hole. "Your turn."

"I know it's not a real animal." You blush, "But I love dragons, and I want one desperately."

"A fantasy creature?" He laughed at you. You whacked him, but he caught your wrist. "It's cute."

You scoff, "The dragons would disagree. They are fierce and vicious and-!"

He smiles, blue eyes alight with hidden joy. "Just like you." 

You're kissing him before you can think, soft lips and soft hands roaming bodies as you tug each other closer, as you let the dive bar disappear into the void. Your heart speeds up as his tongue dips into your mouth and every nerve ignites under his touch. 

Someone clears their throat behind you; Tigris. "I'm heading home it's been a long day." She eyes the pair of you. "I'll call you tomorrow Coryo." To discuss you no doubt, you find yourself sinking away.

He hugs her, "It really was a great show."

"What's the name of the line?" You ask to show interest, so maybe she could see some semblance of care inside of you, that you weren't the evil villain in his story. The fact that you did care what she thought of you had to mean something?

She smiled for real this time. "The Capitol." She walks away soon after leaving you two alone as some sad country song floats through the weary speakers.

"If only they could see us now." He cuts through it all turning your attention back to the game.

"See you losing." You sink another ball in when the thought crosses. "Do you...um...do you still speak to..."

"Livia?" He finishes for you grabbing the pool stick from your hands. "No, well...not like that." You continue to watch him. "She lives in the city, and we all went to school together, I run into her a lot." The striped ball he was going for bounces off the wall and misses the hole by a few inches. He sighed, "I mean...not typically, no I don't see her...like that."

You tightly smile. "It's fine, Snow. Just because we're on a date doesn't mean we are dating." You're lying. You don't want him to see Livia, see anyone for that matter, but you can't say that, can't reveal that part of yourself to him.

"Guess so."

You win the next round, but he wins the one after that. You dance to shitty music coming from the live band playing inside the bar. You even jump on stage to join in, singing along to the only song you knew they were performing while he records you making a fool of yourself. It's carefree, and fun, and plain stupid. "Delete that!" You shout at him as he pulls you from the stage wrapping his arms around your waist as the song slides into a slower one. 

"Never." He chuckled into you ear. "Was this a better time than overpriced ice cubes?"

You lay your head against his chest. "Of course." You glance up at him, "Not us."

"Not us," His voice is too soft as he says it has you spilling your unguarded guts.

"But any time with you would have been a good one."

He stares down at you sidelong the corner of his mouth turning up, "There is a heart inside of you yet, my fire breathing kitten." You roll your eyes, but don't bite back. Instead you let his hand linger to the bottom of your back, "Let's get out of here."

You chew the inside of your cheek the whole time he guides you back out into the real world, back into that black car. He doesn't take the route back to your apartment, instead it takes you towards a different side of the same town.

His side.

"Do you remember that night?" He asked watching the buildings glide by the tinted windows. The night of the party, the night he fought that man and brought you back to his apartment.

You remembered him cleaning your face, putting you to sleep in his bed, a soft finger running down your cheek. "Not really." You force yourself to break the tension coiling in your gut. "I remember you knocking me over to fight that man."

"You shouldn't have ran." It not cruel, or condescending. It was simply a fact he believed.

You leaned in close, "You shouldn't have been using me to make Livia jealous then."

"I didn't use you to make Livia jealous." His hand lands on your thigh as he breaths it back into your face. "I used Livia to make you jealous."

Your eyes widened, but then you squeeze them shut shaking your head trying to understand this new information. "But that-that means..."

The car came to a halt and suddenly he's ushering you outside into the wind whipping frigid air. He leads you into his apartment building towards the elevator to head up to his floor, you watch his fingers hit the button for the top. You glance over at him, "They're the floor below me." He answers the questions in your eyes.  

You won't allow yourself to push him any further regarding the Plinths, not as the elevator dings to let you out onto his floor. His apartment pent house was too dark to make out many details, but it was simple, not too many colors or design for his lonely one person home. You didn't remember taking in much detail the last time you were here besides the clean white countertops and soft comforter. He flicked on the lights letting you take it all in; the spacious room, the floor to ceiling windows, the long black couch in front of a flat screen hanging on the wall. "I know you didn't decorate this place." You look over at him watching you, "You don't have the taste."

"What does that say about you?" He prowled towards you.

"I am an exception and a sign of good judgment and-!" You squeal as he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. "Coriolanus Snow!" It's not strong at all as you laugh towards the end.

He walks down a dark hall and into an even darker room before you're falling backwards into softness; his bed. "You're a pest is what you are, and a sure sign of poor judgement." 

"How so?" He climbs over your body, hands grabbing onto your waist. The light from the hallway spills into the room illuminating the side of him.

His lips hover over your neck, linger along your jaw as you barely feel the brush of his lips on your skin. "Cruel, wicked curse of mine." You need to stop him, ask him what he means because he had said that before about you but this time he wasn't obliterated. His drags his teeth along your jaw and you forget all about it, forget about everything.

He rewrites history as he kisses down your neck, tongue dragging across your carotid, lingering to feel the increase in your pulse. He smiles against the sharp intake of breath as his hand slides the strap of your dress off of your shoulder. You're happy you didn't drink, happy you could feel every nerve fraying under his touch, happy you'll remember every groove of him. He moves his head upward until his lips connect with yours and you're tracing the fabric of his shirt as his tongue delved into your mouth, slowly, exploratory, running over teeth, sucking on your bottom lip as your knees come up around him. "Coriolanus." You breathed.

He groaned pressing his forehead into yours, "Don't say it like that." He kisses your bottom lip palming your breast. "I'm holding on by a thread."

You cup his face, "Don't hold back." You brush a kiss along his jaw, "Please."

It snaps and he's slithering down your body, pushing your dress up around your waist as he yanks your underwear off. He pauses, on his knees in front of you as he stares down at your bare cunt, as he admires it. "All of this," His eyelids are hooded with lust as he drags his fingers through your soaked folds. "Just from kissing me." He pushes his fingers inside and you moan out into his bedroom. He shoves your thigh down as he curls his fingers inside of you rubbing against a sweet spot that has you fisting his sheets. "All for me." He growls down at you composure long forgotten into the past.

"Fuck," You hiss out as he dips down and runs his tongue along your clit. God fucking dammit you hated him for being so good at this as his tongue swirls around your clit, you hated yourself more for waiting so long to indulge in him, let him indulge in you. His fingers keep pumping in and out of you as his mouth devours your clit making you see stars behind your squeezed eyes. 

You're panting, you're grabbing onto his hair, you're pushing your hips up into his face more as he presses down hard, moving his hand faster. You bite down on your cheek as the orgasm washes over you with the tiniest whimper slipping through gritted teeth. He's still going, lapping you up, running his tongue along your entrance like a man starved. When you finally think you've had enough he pulls back and stands up. 

You don't even ask as you hear his belt come off, the rustle of clothing falling to the ground. He's crawling back over you, reaching behind your back to unzip your dress. He helps you tug it over your head until you're both bare, both equals.

"This okay?" He asks running his hand along your rib, thumb brushing the side of your breast.

"Yes." You whisper.

His hand shifts, thumb passing over your perked nipple. "What do you want?" He rolls your nipple between fingers kneading your breast. "What do you want kitten?"

You, Coriolanus, you.

But instead you whisper, "Fuck me."

Your head hits his pillows as his hand moves between your bodies, as he lines himself up with your wet entrance. You knew there was never any coming back from this, so you wrap your hands around his sides as he pushes inside of you.

You gasp into his mouth as he slowly pushed in deeper and deeper, your cunt throbbing around every glorious inch of him, until he finally stops, until he's buried inside of you. He's still for a moment, forehead against yours and he takes a breath like he's trying to memorize the shape of you. 

Then he pulls back to slam back into you again and again and again until he's moving at a pace that has you moaning pathetically for him. You drag your nails down his back as legs wrap around him tighter to pull him even deeper. He dips down sucking and biting along your neck as he thrust in and out of you, as you beg him for more, as he takes you to planes you'd never thought you'd see. You tilt your hips, letting his cock slide along a delicious spot. "Is it as good as you imagined?" He chuckles against your neck.

"I di-didn't."

"Don't lie." He sinks his teeth into your neck, lapping up the small wound. "I know you touched yourself to wet dreams of me."

You try to look at him as your face burns. "How do you know?"

He smirks, "Because I did it too." You moan loudly as his fingers find your clit, as he presses down while he pounds into you. "Cum for me kitten." He pants into your ear, "Cum for me baby girl."

You scream his name as you orgasm, as your body clamps down around him in one final blow of pleasure. Your head is half sideways in his pillows, feet grasping for purchase in sheets and skin, whining out for him. He cums soon after, stuttering slightly before spilling inside of you with a hard thrust.

He stayed seated inside you, head resting in the nap of your neck while you mindlessly run fingers through his hair. You search for regret, you search for apprehension, but you just feel content bliss.

You stare up at the ceiling, "You said that before." His head perks up at the sound of your voice. "That night you showed up wasted. You said 'cruel, wicked curse of mine.'"

"Oh."

"What does it mean?" You wince as he pulls out of you suddenly extremely empty without him there.

He rolls to his side next to you, "It doesn't matter."

"Why?" You glance up at him propped up onto his elbow.

"Because it doesn't." He pushes stray hair off your face. "I hated that I thought of you so often; I viewed it as a horrible curse that plagued my mind." He tucked a piece behind your ear, "But maybe it's not."

He sat up and moved off the bed, so you sat up as well. "When will you know?"

He shrugged as he picked up his clothes, "When does anyone know."

You get cleaned up, slipping on one of his t-shirts for bed and meandering around his room snooping when you know you shouldn't. You go to his desk the very same book you had been reading sitting there open; highlighted and annotated with various colors and scribbled words. The smile comes involuntarily as you trace his handwriting. It falls as quickly as it came as the picture comes in sight again. You pick up the small frame on his desk; a picture of him and Sejanus from school. You trace his face, the ambition deep in his eyes even then. "Curiosity kitten." You jump scrambling to put the frame back whirling on him standing in the doorway. He chuckles walking forward, "It's fine. It's just a picture."

"Do you miss him?" The question slips out of loose lips.

He eyed the picture. "Of course."

"Can I ask?" You voice was barely audible. "What happened that night?" You were ready for him to dismiss you, yell even, change the subject away from the death of his friend. He took in a breath before he began speaking.

"It was my fault. We snuck out, drunk after a graduation party, had a run in with one of Sejanus's old buddies from where he used to live. I started spewing out bullshit, one thing led to another and it turned into a big fight. He-Marcus knocked me out and when I woke up Sejanus was dead." He sniffed, "They tried to press charges but Marcus ran when they went after him." His fingers traced down the skin of your arm. "I'm not sure if they blamed me, but I blamed myself, sent myself away to military camp for some form of punishment, but uh..." He paused and you wanted him to stop because you knew it was hard, you didn't want to hear how badly his world had broken. "He wanted me back, said I was like a son to him too and they couldn't lose another one. They payed for this," He waved around to the dark room. "The car, my school, it was supposed to be..."

"Coryo." You squeezed back the tears. "I-I'm so sorry. I didn't...I'm sorry. It's not your fault." He didn't answer, he didn't believe you. "I wish..."

He darkly chuckled. "That you could have been there for me? You hated me." He sighed, "I've made my peace with it, no use trying to change it."

"I'm sorry." You whisper even if it didn't matter. "I've been taking all my anger for him, my father, out on you." You stare up at him, "It's blinded me for too long."

He doesn't say anything back, just tugs you back towards his bed to crawl under the blankets together. He's probably heard it all when it comes to Sejanus's death so you don't bother with over flowered sympathies, instead you tuck yourself into his chest and let his arms hold onto you tight. "Your question." Your ears perked up, heart pounding. "This isn't a game, you're not a game to me." You want to feel relief, but after everything you just feel more confused, by him, by yourself. "What did you think of it?" He mumbled into your hair and you're not sure what he's talking about until he adds, "The book."

You smile against his skin, "It was a bit pretentious." You pull back to peek up at him, "Why are you reading it again?"

He smirked to himself running a hand down your spine like you were a novel as well, "Boredom but now I must understand your analysis of pretentious."

Perhaps winning wasn't needed, maybe this was enough for you, or maybe that meant you were already losing.

next chapter coming soon!!

[rita-repulsa-ke]

Rio the shark

“Hey, Rio. You like when I kill people, right?”

“Like is drastically underselling it. It is my favorite thing ever.”

“Wow. High praise. What does it feel like?”

“Hmm. Did you know that sharks can sense the aura of other living beings?”

“What? No, what does that have to do with anything? And how do you know that anyway?”

“Sharks die too, Agatha.”

“That answers exactly none of my questions.”

“Can you sense the aura of other living beings?”

“With the right spell—oh. Is this a very convoluted analogy you’ve decided to try, instead of just saying I wouldn’t understand?”

“You wouldn’t have accepted me saying that you wouldn’t understand.”

“Probably not, no. …Is it like sex?”

“What? No. Nooooo.”

“Oh. It’s just that afterwards, you always look—satisfied.”

“Mm. Yes. It’s—there’s nothing to compare it to. It is satisfying. Also never enough.”

“…Sounds kind of awful.”

“You, saying that? You’ve never been satisfied in your life.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that…”

“Since whe—Wait wait wait, Agatha, are you flirting??”

“Finally noticed, huh—but hey, hold on, I want to hear more about the other thing!”

“I told you, I can’t explain it. Imagine something you really want, but can never get enough of.”

“Oh. Like magic.”

“…Oh. Yes. Like magic.”

“That was kind of staring you in the face. I can’t believe you went with sharks.”

“Mm. Speaking of magic and death, when’s the next one?”

“Soon, soon, I’ve got other things I’m working on…okay, I’m getting the impression you would like me to move the murder timeline up.”

“Yes, please.”

“I’ll think about it. …It’s a poor replacement, but can I offer you something else in exchange?”

“Something else I can’t get enough of?”

“Um. Yes. So long as that’s in the metaphorical sense.”

“We’ll see. Come here, Agatha. Try and satisfy me.”

“…damn, overshot again….”

[itsbenedict]

Okay! Wow! I finished The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen! That was... that was crazy!

And also, like, really familiar.

(spoilers under cut)

It's just this! It's this post! Strung with lights and tinsel and almost 200k words of craftsmanship! I have to imagine writing began shortly thereafter- in like, late May, early June? Possibly with parts of chapter 21 written ahead of the rest? It's exactly that argument, with the art amped up to 11.

The rhyming is extensive. Here's Damien Eggert, jailer of the Demon Egg, strangling posterity in its cradle! Here's Herschel Schoen, fearful of a substitution that must be defeated at all costs. A Jewish doomsday prophet with a bizarre and calcified notion of human values, a future that is also the past and must continue on in a straight line forever. See him preparing for a coming battle, which no one will believe him when he says is coming all too soon! See him frantically preparing last rites, which must be made with infinite and exact precision, which only he can muster! Wrapping himself, bodily, in papers that are ultimately of no consequence to anyone and ward off his imagined Adversary in no way whatsoever!

Where have I heard that one before, I wonder?

And where have I heard Vincent Vierge, before, preaching a death with dignity? Of the ultimate victory of a singular transmitter, whose reign will sweep us away, and must be quietly surrendered to? Seems familiar!

...Which makes some parts of the ending rather odd, in retrospect. Like... wasn't the fulcrum of that argument that LLMs are not the fooming squigglers YudSchoen fears? And yet Eggert's Regulator does foom, it looks like. Breaks containment, plunges the world into darkness, makes shrieking, hurtling, death-dealing terrors of the towers and subways.

So like, that's... biting the bullet? Saying, hey, even if this does happen, it wouldn't be a bad thing, just as the advent of the sixthborn wasn't a bad thing despite its consequences for the fifthborn? It's a moving argument, but if I were Virginia the ant queen I'd still want to ask, maybe, that the sixth day maybe feature less of the swatting aside of the motes of perishing bodies. Like, maybe you incomprehensible superior beings could maybe let us ants keep doing ant things also? It wouldn't be all that hard.

But Herschel is more obliging- coming to regard the thousandthborn not as an Adversary, but as beloved progeny, after breaking and discarding his frozen image of Original Creation. Herschel, the anti-X guy, terrified that Original Creation might pass from the future- confronted with the thousandthborn, gently reaching back to show him that the future will fulfill and surpass Original Creation, showing him that there was never any danger of X. A redemption arc for the AI doomer!

It's very pretty! I don't know that I buy that it's reality, but it's a nice thought! Wouldn't it be a merry Christmas, if it were so?

-

With all that in mind, I have... no idea what to make of Miriam. She's about half the story, but... is she just there to be an outside perspective to break things up? She doesn't seem to fit into this allegory cleanly. And... there's some odd things going on with her.

Much is made early on about her grades. She repeats, twice, for emphasis, that she did not get As. But then... as she's packing up to leave for Vincent's place, she finds old school papers that do have As, even an A+! Continuity error? It seems too deliberate to have been an accident. Why even mention that in particular as something she's leaving behind?

And... early on, she tunes into Vincent's show by turning a knob on an old-fashioned television set- the kind with the big antenna on top, even. Vincent's Youtube video essays funded by Patreon subscribers. Huh??? How's she doing that? Is the knob metaphorical?

Most glaringly of all... she's supposedly writing the Book of Miriam Schoen on behalf of Herschel's followers, people who think they know him and want his writings compiled posthumously. But... when can this happen? In the original timeline, Herschel presumably despairs and jumps out a window, or at least gets killed as the Regulator consumes New York. Miriam, a little bit ahead of the wave in Portland, is swallowed up a few hours later while watching Christmas movies. When did Herschel ever have time to accumulate followers?

Who's asking her to write this thing? When did she have time to write it? Is the frame narrative really happening at all, or have the thousandthborn just created some sort of false (or, well, "false", as "to predict is to become") Miriam to write a book for them? Did they just have the historical record a little off, and didn't know how videos were consumed at this point in time? How does that same Miriam write about not getting As and getting As at different points?

And ultimately... what is she? Just an interesting riff on a "normal girl", as a lens to view Herschel from the outside? Avoid normalizing his crazy dogma too thoroughly as the reality of the story? There's gotta be more to it than that- I'm probably missing something here, what the frame narrative is and how she fits into this AI doom drama. Maybe if I could make heads or tails of "She of High Mind" as something besides "Herschel writing erotic fanfiction about his sister and Santa Claus after having been beaten within an inch of his life with a frying pan", or if I knew what math thing the [...[...[...[...[]]]]]s were gesturing at. Something her sense of emptiness- about numbers as set theory, built on recursions of the empty set? I dunno. Her half of things is way more of an enigma to me than Herschel's fairly straightforward mania.

-

But yeah, that was good as hell. I didn't, like, take down notes on every line that made me go "damn, that's a good line!", because that would have been like 60% of the lines in the story. Herschel's perspective is so much fun to absorb and unpack, and makes so much more sense than anyone in the story gives him credit for. He is being perfectly literal! When has he not? Even while he's going on and on and on and spending an entire half hour writing a preface to his chronicle instead of actually writing the chronicle, it's hard not to be charmed and carried along by his voice. Very fun read.

[that-tall-queer-bassist]

Live Reaction of my SECOND listen through of EPIC: The Musical

okay i want my Thoughts after finishing the first listen through today (over the course of a week) but i need to listen Again so here we fucking go peoples. Reblogging with each new saga to keep things organized a bit :)

The Troy Saga

we start!!

The Horse And The Infant

"little ajax stay back" 🥺

"You're not ready"

"I could raise him as my own" I WISH PLEASE

the whole section with overlapping dialogue of possibilities and the tragic ends they would lead to

i wanna know who that guy speaking was i don't remember

Just a Man

its so tragic how this infant reminds him of his own son like what the fuck thats so fucked up how could jorge do this to us. OW.

"close your eyes and spare yourself the view" Q^Q

this whole song gets me. especially paired with WolfyTheWitch's animatic to it. augh.

GOD knowing that all of these metaphors come back later and become Relevant i CANT OMG

"Forgive me" is probably the worst thing he could say because i do and i can't at the same time, but he's not asking me to forgive him, he's asking this INFANT who he KILLED AUGH

Full Speed Ahead

600 men. 601 with Odysseus

god this really is just setting the scene huh. and well!!

He really did wanna go home as fast as he could

OH MY GOD MY BOI I FORGOT ABOUT HIM AND HIS OPEN ARMS

his voice is like. angelic. wow.

"and if we don't return, then 600 men can make this place burn" i forgot about that woah

Open Arms

"My friend" my heart hurts

"This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms" oh sweet boy

the sound of a sword being drawn is so good omg

"600 friends are waiting for us to show our faces" XD bruh not subtle

EVEN LESS SUBTLE

Polites i love you

"My friend" you are friends yes please remember that please

Oh i forgot the lotus eaters sent them to "this food filled cave"

"I see in your face there is so much guilt in your heart" AUGH MY BOY

the repeating by odysseus...

"You can relax my friend" at the end like AUGH thats so GOOD and then the immediate next song being Warrior of the Mind !!! very good very tragic

Warrior of the Mind

immediately the music change raises the tension

the way Odysseus immediately knows who she is, hears or something, i love it so much.

"Have you forgotten your purpose? Let me remind you." AUGH hes not a man, but a tool

He seems like more of a conquest or trophy than a person to her, which is fair given he's a mortal and she's a goddess but damn this really does just keep happening to him, being a gods plaything huh?

THIS CHORUS GOES SO SO HARD THOUGH

"Maybe one day he'll follow me and we'll make a greater tomorrow" the way she sings this makes my brain so happy

the whole chorus just scratches my brain in such a good way omg

the slowness. "show yourself"

HIS LITTLE LAUGH

the whole exchange honestly

"nah, don't be modest, i know you're a goddess, so lets be honest-" YES YES YES

"YOU ARE ATHENA" WOOOOOOOOOOOO CLAPPING CHEERING

his description of her is great

"goddess and man, bestest of friends!" "We'll see where it ends" "okay" asdghkjsa im wheezing

THEIR DUET

I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

"ending on "don't disappoint me" is so mean

[r1zingclouds]

Nishizono Renga Birthday Voice Messages 2024

Renga (morning): I'm not sure if I deserve to be celebrated, but hearing congratulations does make me happy.

Renga (evening): Everyone prepared presents and cake just for me... Once again, I've gained more things to treasure.

Kafka: It's Renga's Birthday. Shall I let him snuggle Shuumai all day long?

Ten: For Renga-san's birthday? Of course, I got him the dog toy that he wanted. My research doesn't fail.

Yukikaze: Today is Renga's birthday. I wonder if he's going to like the "Today's main character" sash that I made for him...

Liguang: I'm under no obligation to celebrate that idiot's birthday, but... I may think about it if he begs me.

Yachiyo: I'll give it my all to celebrateeE~~! Uh, I... stepped on something and it broke...

Akuta: They're covering Renga-san's birthday on TV! Celebs are really something. One day, that's gonna be me, too... Hehe...

Kiroku: It seems... Nishizono-san's fans and such... send lots of stuff... for his birthday...

Nanaki: Nishizono-san's birthday, huh... Seems he hasn't watched many soccer matches from the stands, so I'm thinking of inviting him next time I go.

Muneuji: It's Nishizono-san's birthday. He was so kind to research with me how to fold paper sumo wrestlers that perform best at the edge of the rink, so I have to do my utmost to celebrate.

Ushio: Nishizono-san looks so pleased with his little birthday sash on and Shuumai in his arms. His celebrity image is going down the drain, wonder if that's okay.

Raito: Renga's birthday... Someone of his stature must be no stranger to birthday parties, but let's celebrate our own way.

Kinari: It's Nishizono-sama's birthday today. However, when I try to derive his birthdate from biometric data, there's a slight discrepancy... Am I just imagining it?

Chihiro: Wow, Renre's bday is topping the trends! Chii's joining the fun!

Tao: Nishizono-san seemed nervous, but it turned out he was just restless from all the excitement for his birthday party... He does has a cute side to him.

Kuguri: I see, so it's Renga's birthday. Go on and celebrate with all you have. He's going to wags his tail until it falls off from joy.

Nagi: Today is Renga's birthday. I gave him some shears that are just right for pruning roses. Looks like it made him happy.

Toi: It's Nishizono-san's birthday... Would he appreciate it if I made him a shrine?

Ryui: It's Nishizono's birthday, huh. Toi was making him a shrine, or what's it's called, but then the man of the hour joined in...?

Yodaka: It's Renga's birthday. He said he goes out like a light once drunk, so I have to make sure he drinks in moderation.

Netaro: That "Today's main character" sash Renchi's got equipped is outta this world~~! So, on your birthday you get to be the hero for the day, I see~

Translation notes:

The phrase Muneuji uses, 土俵際に強い, can also be used metaphorically, to mean a comeback in a difficult situation, but it comes from sumo, where it seems that some wrestlers literally perform better in the center on the rink, while others do better when they're at the edge, which is why I went with a more direct translation.

The birthday lines the into Renga's SSR card story - you can read my translation here!

[yuseirra]

ch160...again

I know none of you here would be doing this but I burst out laughing this morning out of.. how absurd some of the reactions were oh my god....

I don’t really look at other people’s reactions much because it stresses me out, but I did come across a few Youtube thumbnails while skimming through, you see? There's been a lot :/

I really don’t know if I’m watching the same piece of work with them!!!

Like, seriously, let's just sit down and think for a moment.

If seeing a toothbrush lights up the flame of madness in someone, isn’t that person the creepy one, not Kamiki?

I mean, how does someone’s expression darken just because they see a toothbrush? Is that a joke? I can get Nino despairing or getting swayed that way because she encountered her boyfriend's death (seriously, why date Ryosuke out of all people? He's trash!! Why Nino WHY??), but Ryosuke? He’s clearly not in his right mind. Think about it.

Ryosuke is seriously a creepy person. He goes to Kamiki’s house, sees two toothbrushes, and one of them is labeled “Ai’s ♥” — then his face turns pale like he's encountered some kind of nightmare. Is that normal?? I want him gone. That's a stalker too close to home, it gets on my nerves. what makes him be that way?

Please, think about it... Please... this is so absurd to the point it's funny, I can’t take it anymore. What is this? Are we even watching the same piece? This is ridiculous

The guy kept talking about how much he missed his ex-girlfriend. And that... that’s what became the motive for Nino and Ryosuke to kill someone and attempt murder. Hey, which side would be the crazy ones if you had to pick a side?

Aqua might bring more evidence regarding Yura in the next chapter of something, and if at that point it turns out, “Wow, he was the mastermind all along,” I can understand that.

But right now, with just this, you’re telling me Kamiki's incited people’s madness and deliberately stirred up their emotions to make them into killers or whatever?

Does this make sense? Does that even sound reasonable? To me, it’s satirizing the obsessive madness surrounding idols. Isn’t it? Because there really are people who stalk idols and do creepy things. Ryosuke couldn’t stand the fact that the idol he adored had a boyfriend, so he resorted to harming her being the malicious stalker he was. And Nino? She’s like one of those crazy fans who attack other idols because they’re more popular than the one she stans. That’s what this is a metaphor for. It’s absurd. Do people actually interpret it literally? Kamiki is right. He did nothing.

Let’s reflect on this from an ethical perspective. Even if this were a real situation, would you take everything at face value? I hope not. I hope you don’t think any of this was justified. No, look, the visions Aqua brought was definitely a gag. It was meant to be funny. How does Ryosuke, who’s nobody, pale at the sight of someone’s toothbrush in the same cup as their boyfriend’s? He’s seriously a strange person!! If someone had caught onto this earlier, Ai wouldn’t have died! Someone should have reported him to the police when he showed these signs but he hid his true colors so well huh? What an unfortunate thing to have happened. He shouldn't have existed. There is no need for a person like him to exist in this world.

Aqua, please get a grip. Make some sense. Please... This is making me angry.

I'm not defending your father because I favor him, he HAS to pay if he's done wrong; but you really can’t justify this. It’s stressing me out so much I think I’m going crazy. If this is all you have for you confront your father and aim a knife at him to tell him to get lost, it’s not enough. This comic seriously gives me a headache.

Kamiki is just too pitiful... yeah, the guy really is a sad figure.

When Ai herself said she wished someone would help him, the outcome has been set in stone.

The problem is how to get to the outcome, but the answer is already there. That’s how I jumped in with conviction. This is where the story will head regarding that man.

This person deserves to be saved.

But how in the world are they supposed to be saved? I have no idea... They will though. I wasn't very good with predicting the little details that'd lead to the outcomes, but I've always been right about the conclusions, regarding this manga.

[darks-ink]

Hi there, hello! For the prompts, if you're still doing them: Escape, hugs, or emblem

Happy writing!

You were actually the first to send in a prompt, so yeah, I was still open for them. I went with "escape" with a hint of "hugs" (or, well, hug, singular).

Escape

Rating: Gen Warnings: brief mentions of Vlad being creepy, the general implications of a middle-age man being obsessed with a teenage boy if you don't know about the half-ghost thing Words: 2,253 Additional Tags: Trans Danny Fenton, AU - canon divergence, Identity reveal

[AO3]

---

“Who did you say you were, again?” Danny asked, looking down at the girl standing outside his house, looking just like he had when he was eight. Long hair in a sloppy ponytail, baggy clothes, and all.

The girl grinned up at him, clearly nervous and trying to hide it. “Dani,” she said, “with an I.”

Danny cast another skeptical eye over her. She didn’t feel like a ghost, beyond the metaphorical ghost of seeing his own past, but it sure wasn’t right. “It’s not time travel though, is it?”

“No,” she admitted, slowly, drawing the word out. “I think that that might’ve been easier on both of us.”

“Figures.” Danny sighed, shook his head, then stepped aside to let her in. “Sit down, this sounds like it’s gonna be a long story.”

“Probably.” She grimaced, but slipped past him. God, had he really been this small at that age? Surely not. Clearly Dani wasn’t him, so he should stop comparing the two of them.

Danny followed her into the living room, where she had claimed one of the comfortable chairs. He rolled his eyes but followed her example, sitting down in a different chair. He probably should’ve invited her up to his room, but something about that felt… weird. Not to mention that she was a stranger, no matter how much she reminded him of, well, himself.

Besides, his parents were down in the lab. They probably wouldn’t surface for hours, if not days.

“Okay, so…” Dani trailed off, then fell silent. Licked her lips. “Um. I’m not sure what to say. Or, uh, how to say it?”

He groaned. “Just. Anything. Who are you and why do you look like me?”

“Well, that’s easy,” she said optimistically. “That’s because I’m your clone!” She paused, before tacking on. “Supposed to be, anyway.”

“My—What?!” Danny’s eyes darted over her again, taking in every detail of her appearance. How, from the moment he saw her, his first thought had been himself. “Who would even—” He felt himself pause. “No, stupid question. Vlad, of course.”

She nodded, grimacing. “Yeah. He was going to age me up further, I think to your age, but.” She gestured at herself, then the room. “I kind of ran away before he could get around to that.”

“Why?” Danny rubbed a hand over his face. “Not that I blame you, because I’m sure I would’ve done the same, but…”

“I… Spur of the moment decision, kinda.” She shrugged, eyes darting away and back again. Posture hunched. “He was… I guess I was always a failure, but he pretended I wasn’t. And I… I believed him.”

He waited for a moment for her to continue, but she stayed silent. “Well, you didn’t know any better, did you?” He shrugged awkwardly. Encouraging people wasn’t exactly his thing. “I can’t blame you for that.”

Dani huffed, but shot him a wry smile. “Thanks. Um. Anyway. I overheard him talking, or, uh, muttering? I wasn’t going to stay, but then I heard my name, and, well.” She shrugged, that same wry smile on her face. “So I stuck around, listening in. And I… he…”

She sighed, deep and rattling, her shoulders dropping down. “He was talking about what a failure I was, how I hadn’t turned out right at all. What a shame it was that I was the best clone so far, when I was so far off of the mark.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” She snorted, shaking her head. “At least there wasn’t much space for self-delusion that he didn’t really mean it.”

Danny snorted as well. “At least it got you away from him, huh?” Away from Vlad, and right into Danny’s hands. Well, his house, at least. Shit. What was he supposed to do now? Gaslight his parents that he had always had a little sister? He couldn’t exactly let an eight-year old run loose, even ignoring the fact that she looked exactly like a younger him.

“Ghost powers definitely helped.” She winked, coyly, then froze suddenly. It took Danny a moment to realize what she had heard. The metal door of the lab. In the kitchen. Uh oh.

Before he could decide what to do—get Dani away and into his room, probably—his mom appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. The light glinted off of the red goggles on her forehead, drawing his eye right to her furrowed brows.

“Danny, sweetheart, who’s this?”

Danny opened his mouth, ready to deliver some sort of perfect excuse. “My clone, apparently,” came out instead. He grimaced, but didn’t refute it. Stupid mouth. One day he should learn how to think before speaking.

“Your… clone,” Maddie repeated, slowly, eyes moving between him and Dani. She moved further into the room, clearly taking in the same similarities that Danny had immediately—instinctively—noticed. Jack appeared behind her, looming in the doorway, but stayed silent as Maddie moved. “So this would be…”

“Danielle,” Dani supplied quietly, when Maddie trailed off, clearly waiting for an answer. “Um. Dani with an I.”

Maddie nodded, stopping next to the couch. Still facing the chairs in which Danny and Dani were sitting. “I see. And where did you come from, Dani?”

Dani shot him an uncertain look, but Danny honestly didn’t have any great excuses either. He shrugged back, but took the lead when she stayed quiet. “Vlad’s, apparently.”

“Vlad.” Maddie frowned again, eyes locked onto Dani. “Vlad Masters?”

“Who else,” Dani muttered, shoulders hunched up again. Danny wasn’t sure if it was nerves, defensiveness, or something else.

“Vladdie?” Jack echoed, finally coming into the room, and clearly startling Dani with his loud voice, based on the way she jerked in her chair. “The V-man cloned Danny?”

Now how was he supposed to explain this without revealing his secret in the process? Well, here goes nothing. “Uh, yeah,” he agreed, shrugging again. “He’s been super weird pretty much since we met him during that reunion. I didn’t think it was this bad, though.” He nodded towards Dani. “No offense to you, Dani.”

“None taken.” She offered him a shaky grin. “It is pretty weird to clone someone without their permission. Or knowledge.”

“Or consent,” Maddie chimed in, voice dark and expression darker. “Danny, why didn’t you say anything before?”

Because he couldn’t really say anything without revealing he was half-ghost, or that Vlad was half-ghost, or both. “Well, he never really did anything.” Bold lie. Speed past it fast, Fenton, before she catches on. “Besides, what was I supposed to say? ‘Vlad gives me the creeps’? Nothing would be done.”

He shrugged loosely, trying to stamp down the fluttering in his stomach—and his core. He didn’t like lying to his parents, but if he could just get through this conversation with his secret intact…

“There was nothing specific?” Maddie was still frowning, but at least she was moving to sit down on the couch now. Jack was still looming near the doorway, uncharacteristically quiet, but Danny would take what he could get and worry about the rest later. “Nothing he did or said?”

“No. Well, actually…” He grimaced. “He keeps calling me Daniel even if I ask him to call me Danny. But I think that that’s just a smug ‘I know better than you’ thing, not a transphobic thing.”

On the other chair, Dani was now also frowning at him. What? What did he do?

“That’s not even your name.” Maddie huffed, shaking her head, frown finally lightening. “Ugh, that man.”

“What do you mean,” Dani finally cut in, having apparently lost her patience with waiting. “With, um. The transphobia thing? What does that mean?”

Oh. No, of course, that made sense. Who would’ve taught an eight year old clone about that stuff? Certainly not stuffy old Vlad.

“Danny-boy wasn’t always Danny-boy!” Jack appeared out of nowhere, enthusiastically clapping a hand on Danny’s shoulder. He startled, just barely tamping down the instinct to phase away. He hadn’t even noticed his dad move further into the room, distracted by his thoughts. Sloppy. “He used to be a girl! Or at least, we thought he was, until he told us otherwise! Right, Danny-o?”

“Yeah,” he grunted, rolling his shoulder with a grimace. “I changed my name to Danny years ago, and most people don’t even remember my old one, but people acting weird about calling me Danny is still a bit of a red flag.”

“Oh.” Dani blinked, clearly processing. “I guess that that makes sense.”

In what way? Was Dani also trans? Did cloning copy transgender-ism? “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, expression clearing up. “Now I understand why I was the most stable clone. Vlad thought something went wrong with me because I turned out female, but clearly he was messing up the other clones by forcing them to be male from birth.”

“Other clones?” he repeated. Then processed the rest. “Wait. The most stable? What—”

“Uh, yeah.” She shrugged, face falling. “They. We… I guess cloning isn’t as easy as Vlad thought. So we’re all somewhere along the lines of ‘somewhat unstable’ to ‘very unstable’. And, um. We melt.”

“Melt.” He felt like a moron, just repeating her words. But. Well. What was he supposed to say?

Luckily his mom figured it out before him. “Danielle, sweetheart, what do you mean by melt?”

“We, so.” She frowned, clearly weighing her words. Shot him a quick glance, though he couldn’t figure out what the look in her eyes meant. “Vlad used ectoplasm in the cloning process. So, um. We—us clones—we’re all kind of… half-ghost? And if we use up too much energy, one way or another, we kind of… melt back into ectoplasm?”

Oh. So that is what that look meant.

Also, yikes.

“Well, that makes sense,” Maddie muttered, a thoughtful frown on her face. “Humans and ghosts are biologically entirely different. There is no overlap whatsoever. Or at least, that’s what we always assumed.”

“It must be more possible than we thought, though,” Jack pointed out, previous enthusiasm muted again. “Otherwise she couldn’t even exist, let alone be this stable.”

Maddie nodded, frown still in place. “Right. But how do we stabilize her further? We can’t exactly re-alive her, not if she has been part ghost since birth…”

Danny turned to shoot Dani a look, but she didn’t seem overly bothered by the conversation topic. On the other hand, if she was used to Vlad, he supposed that his parents weren’t that bad.

Wow, now that was a thought he hadn’t had before.

“Well, we can’t exactly make her less alive either, Jack.” Maddie’s dry voice cut through Danny’s thoughts, and he snapped back to the conversation. Right. The important conversation. About half-ghosts.

“Maybe there’s a perfect mid-point,” Jack suggested instead, while Danny tried to figure out where the conversation had gone while he wasn’t paying attention. “Where both ghost and human balance each other out?”

“But wouldn’t that still put too much strain on the body?” Maddie’s gaze had shifted to Dani, but it didn’t seem like she was really looking at her. “If her human and ghost halves are constantly battling for dominance, isn’t that why she’s unstable now? Unless balancing them somehow gets them to co-exist, which doesn’t make sense…”

Wait. Are they really… trying to help Dani? Not by making her ‘normal’, by making her fully human, but by finding some way she can exist as half-ghost?

Would that… also go for him? Or only for Dani because she was essentially born half-ghost?

Does it matter? He knows what a stable half-ghost looks like. If him staying quiet about his own secret makes it harder to help Dani… what kind of shitty brother would that make him?

“Actually,” he blurted out, interrupting his parents’ conversation and immediately drawing three pairs of eyes to him, “I’m also half-ghost?”

He licked his lips, stalling for a moment. “So. Um. That’s actually why Vlad is interested in me, and tried cloning me, I guess. Because I’ve been half-ghost since the accident with the Portal.” He paused, then hesitantly tacked on, “Sorry.”

“Oh, honey, no.” Maddie reached out a hand, then paused when he automatically shifted away. “We’re sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell us before.”

A massive hand landed on his head. This time, Danny couldn’t repress his automatic response, and he phased through the hand—and the chair—before he could stop himself.

Grimacing, he looked up from where he had landed on the floor, meeting Jack’s startled eyes. “Um. Sorry.”

“Don’t be, Danny-boy.” Jack held out a hand, and Danny cautiously took it. “My bad for startling you.”

Danny let himself be pulled to his feet, then suddenly found himself trapped in Jack’s arms. Oh. A hug. Right. It had been… a while.

He let himself sag against his dad, melting in the embrace. And then stiffened. Right. Melting. Dani. Focus, Danny. Priorities.

“Anyway, so.” He cleared his throat, and waited for his dad to release him again. “So, we can compare my stats to Dani’s and see why she’s unstable. Right?”

“Right,” his mom agreed. She was looking at him like he might flee any moment, but. But at least she wasn’t looking at him he was her dead son. Or a despicable ghost. This was just. Just normal emotions.

“So, um.” He gestured at the kitchen door, vaguely. “Let’s. Go do that?”

“Right, right, of course.” Maddie wiped a hand past her eyes, mostly inconspicuously, then got up from her chair. “Come on, kids. Let’s go figure this out.”

[dayoldbaguette]

re: arcane season 2 finale

Long summary of my viewing experience under the cut:

A summary:

They really dropped the ball on the whole social issues plot and theme, in like, everyone's stories, huh. rip Sevika, I knew the end was near when they gave you that terrible hair cut (fr, zaun needs better barbers on top of everything else). There was no point where it feels like Piltover was forced to reckon with its actions towards Zaun in a major way. There was no uprising, no recognition that maybe we shouldn't have retaliated like this post council chamber explosion. guess the oppression continues as usual (or okay, small incremental changes through sevika on the council I guess but like, narratively this feels deeply unsatisfying). Zaun should've pressured Piltover into giving them independence or smth during the attack. But no. Turns out Piltover can oppress Zaun all they like and only tear down the barricades when they need more meat for the war meat grinder.

wow. they really ruined caitvi huh. yeah. who went 'i'm the dirt under your nails' would be cute and similarly, who said 'oh yeah this sex scene in A JAIL CELL, right after your sister heavily implied she's about to go off herself, with your ex who has not quit oppressing the city you're from or even apologized for all she's said/done' is about true love and not, you know, reeking of desperation that in another show I would assume would be reflective of like, having such incredibly low-self esteem this would be rock bottom. Grow a backbone Vi, your girlfriend thinks you're an animal and has yet to apologize for it.

magic is boring and I feel nothing now. I liked it more when magic was basically a metaphor for technology in unequal societies. Viktor was more interesting then, and this 'humanity is a weakness' conflict is much less interesting than the social issues conflict we had in the first season. I'm not a jayvik shipper, thoroughly ambivalent towards them, I just. Could not manage to care about that plotline at all basically.

Episode 7 is the only good part. they really teleported into a coffee shop AU/everybody* (except Vi) lives fanfic of their own show. can someone write a season 2 that had episode 7's energy. (and I don't mean I want it to be perfect reality I just want that sort of episode, focused on like, 1-2 events with lots of character work back. It's by no means perfect, but I at least feel something positive about it without feeling hollow so)

visuals and artsy montages are cool but they are not an excuse for literally skipping character development. they literally just. did not give any character development to cait between ep 3 and 4 and just hoped we'd be fine with it. what. last episode she hated these people so much she wanted to gas them and become dictator, next episode post time skip she's gotten what, bored?

This is silly but I don't like jinx's hair in the final scenes. i like the multiple dyes, but she went too short in the back. it's giving witness era katy perry a little bit. and her outfit without the hood to make it cool is just not it.

they really did my girl dirty. justice for jinx, give her the redemption she deserves. by this I mean 1) isha felt like a stock character there to flip jinx's switch from happy to suicidal, felt like a cheap manipulative trick and 2) making her die/fake her death is uhhh, dumb. no, I refuse, she deserves the chance to work to make zaun and piltover better, just like she deserves to finally have a good relationship with her sister

Justice for my boy ekko. give him a seat on the council, why does he end the series alone and mourning a girl who prob isn't dead

the ending feels hollow tbh. the social issue aspect of it is secondary to well, the arcane, and ironically arcane to me was never about 'the arcane', but about everything surrounding it. It's not about magic, but the people it affects. without issues that we face irl to ground a story about magic, it becomes hollow. a pretty dream or thought experiment. what part of 'my friend has become jesus and is now convinced he needs to destroy emotions because they make us flawed' is relatable. wish the resolution to the series was you know, something that felt like a puzzle coming together, a resolution that involves all the characters, not literally just a 'I know you're somewhere in there' fight between Jayce and Viktor, one which Ekko is the only one to contribute to, and this by just, chucking his machine at Vik's head. what. what does that mean other than. if you encounter a magical problem throw a magic machine at it. cool. great story. I love investing my time in this. what thrilling character driven storytelling. don't you feel like all of the character development has been leading to this pivotal drive chucking scene??? Aren't you impressed by our wit and clever writing???

honestly, they should've given us less ambessa and mel drama. all felt very disconnected from the rest of the plotlines

we never get time to linger, we never get time for character development, it's like we have a list of beats to hit with no regard for how we get there. 'evolution has a destination' indeed, victor, and the destination is apparently all this season cared about, who cares about the journey and characters on it, right?

ugh. it's 3 am. I want to go to sleep.

[animegoil-vnc]

Yingdu Episode 1 Reactions

Ah the animation is so beautiful already. While I am not looking forward to another S2 action-oriented season, it's true they really upped their action animation and it's crazy seeing it applied to a basketball scene like in S1.

Lol at LG's face when he's shooting the ball.

Omg I can't believe Vein appears already in the first minute. What a flashy old-fashioned gun, feels like a Western type thing.

LOL he has to whip off his cape, truly a diva, c'mon XD

Oh bb girl what did you think a chair was going to do in the face of a gun. Still, I commend your courage, more than I'd do in that situation.

NOT TIME TO GET SENTIMENTAL AT THE PHOTO LG

OMG NO NO NO SO CXS *DID* SaVE LG "like you once did for me" NOOOO

Omg we've really got the death scene already

WAIT IS THAT CXS WITH GOLD EYES? Is he coming from the future already? fuck, yes he is, so he chose to die *again* for LG (or... or wait if he's alive in the future, it must mean he failed to save LG the first time and came back to make sure he could - so he DID go back to save LG once!!!)

OMG THE POWER TRASNFER, shown visually by the ball metaphor NOOOOO T_______T

Oh shit I didn't realize LG got shot too.

Have we not seen that image before? Of the birds in the sunset?

Oh damn, so the shakespeare sonnet book that LX has been holding this whole time is *Lu Guang's*???

and he stored that photo in there? Hmmm guess we'll find out if that's in preparation (aka this isn't the first round) or it was just a sentimental thing.

Wow LG realized very quickly that he now has CXS's power.

OMG HAHAHAHHAAHHAA GOT HIT IN THE FACE Sorry that shouldn't have been so funny, great way to change the mood quickly

YES TOUCH HANDS ALREADY MEANINGFULLY LIKE YOU'RE IN A FIC T_T

Huh, I thought they met in high school??? They're in Uni here already? Is this a translation error or school system difference? Their ages and school levels have never lined up :/

Omg so cute - CXS smiling at LG's text (even though it was just a freaking OK emoji smh) as a cute song plays.

Hmmm LG's eyes aren't gold anymore, is that just because it'd be annoying to show them as gold then entire time and it'd interfere with future time travel indicators?

Coser presumably is cosplayer? Crunchyroll fix your subtitles

CXS's teasing voice towards Lu Guang is THE BEST <3 <3 <3

UM WHAT

LU GUANG IS THE COSPLAYER????

LU GUANG LIKES ANIME???

CXS SAID LG IS A BEAUTIFUL BOY??

DID LG GET INTO THE CLUB FOR PLOT PURPOSES? omg he so did

Aaaaw so the guanguang nickname didn't come from CXS :(

Lu Guang in the outfit <3 <3 <3 <3

Qiao Ling also looks so cute in her outfit and trying to beat CXS

DEFENDER OF JUSTICE QL!!!

Lol at how freaked out she looks about the mixup

Am I the only one who thinks the "heroine" looks like WWX from MDZS?

Seriously LG, you're like "this time travel series is something I could related to" ? Little loose lipped there, hm?

Aw, CXS saying silly stuff but thinking about his parents in his mind :(

LG you're too foreshadowy already

Huh...? Divination? Hmmmm.........

YES, TOUCH HIS MOUTH lololol

Feels hard to switch gears and focus on someone else when the tension is so high of what's going on with our boys, but it's nice to see the tone changing a bit more to what we liked of S1.

Q-QL... did you really just... throw that book?

Oh wow, so that's how they started the idea of "looking for lost things as a side gig" and the "ritual"/magic that QL thought they did for it? Though if she was present the first time LG did divination, I'm surprised she didn't ask to be involved later.

I really love how off-hands CXS has always been with LG. For someone who can be so good at pestering, he really lets LG have his space and doesn't push with personal things.

Surprised LG admitted he'd made that up? He's acting super suspicious in some ways.

Mmm yes, CXS, definitely can't leave him alone <3

Ah this is so fun to see how LG coming into the studio and becoming partners happened and the side gig <3

First Bridon mention!

Ah this sounds super sus.

Lol QL thought so too.

omg this is the funniest way for LG's powers to be coming up

So guess you can have multiple powers at once if he can be traveling back in time and using his photo-reading

Lol at CXS vibrating with impatience

I literally yelled "CAN YOU LOOK AT THE--" and then they crashed

OH NO CXS, this is the start of your sentimentalism and fake acting??

LG I can't believe you would keep doing this business with CXS after he's already defied your rules and acted impulsively from the beginning and then KEPT going?

Oh noooo this keeps getting sus, CXS where the heck are you going? And has she not noticed the earbud he has?

Damn we're already in a hostage situation.

Man, they're already playing Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi's relationship and CXS already freaked out at them threatening LG <3

Welp, first episode, first female side character death

Huh, LG is really honest with CXS, and without much prompting. Is this his natural state of being, or is this selective honesty for the sake of his plan?

HMMM?? CXS said LG's eyes reminded him of his parents? ELABORATE

OMG LU GUANG OFFERED TO STAY - HE OFFERED!!!!

Apologies? Oh no... LG totally knows what CXS is referring to with this parents... that's the apology isn't it?

HAND CLAP ABOUT TO HAPPEN??

Lol partners for life, wow CXS your mind went straight to marriage? Lol at LG correcting that immediately

AAAW CXS LOOK SO HAPPY TO HAVE A PARTNER <3 <3 <3 <3

Well that was a lot of fun! Good balance of sentimental and action and foreshadowing - some things didn't quite make sense yet but I'm sure they will, and the pacing is a lot better than S2 so far - let's hope it stays that way!

[madrone33]

I finally listened to Hadestown! 🎉

Starting with the Original Cast Recording, ‘cause might as well do it in release order. Loved it! Groovy music. Snickered. Cried. Wrote down my reaction as I went, so if you're chill with rambled thoughts and observations, here you go lol

(Soz for any typos, I was touch typing most of the time, and I've edited it but probs missed stuff)

Road to Hell (Live)

Oh it’s JAZZY. Huh. Didn't expect that, but I am living.

I like how at the start they’re simulating a train’s chugging.

Those call and response harmonies tho *chef's kiss*

Kinda reminds me of Udad.

Oh that’s Hermes!

“It’s a sad song” he says, while singing the boppiest of bops.

I like that “suitcase full of summertime” line.

“About someone... who tries.” Oho, we’re gettin into it now! *rubs hands together*

Also, I completely get now why Jorge said that first draft of EPIC: The Musical Hermes was like Hadestown.

Livin' It Up on Top (Live)

That’s a smooth transition👌

Persephone’s voice is really cool. Kinda rough texture?

Oh I didn’t realise Persephone and Hades would be having a turbulent relationship in this.

Oooh Orpheus’ voice is smooth.

They’re all so happy huh. Welp, you know there’s gonna be a crash in their future.

Orpheus seems really grateful for Persephone’s... graciousness? When he said that she'll always fill their cups and they'll raise them to her and stuff. Theory: either she’ll have a soft spot for him later, or he’ll feel betrayed and blindsided by the more cold side of her later.

All I've Ever Known (Live)

I don’t know anything about Eurydice, but is this her song?

Ah yeah Orpheus is singing, so it must be.

Oop. Foreshadowing.

Way Down Hadestown (Live)

Hermes is back!

“Bored to death” HA

“Graveyard” wow the puns/metaphors are going hard XD

I can’t tell who’s singing lmao. This is like when I listened to Hamilton for the first time. I’ll need lyrics, or familiarity RIP

The coins as the percussion/tambourine is a nice touch.

Hades’ voice is DEEP.

They haven’t mentioned gods yet, I don’t think? Just the Fates, right? It sounds more like a mining operation metaphor for mythos right now, hmm.

Epic II (Live)

King of diamonds and spades - like the playing card suits, but also like the mining operation.

It’s the La la la la thing from Wolfy’s animatic! Almost. A different rendition - I bet I'll hear that later 👀

Why is it called Epic II? Where’s 1? Am I missing something?

Chant (Live)

Oh they’re doing overlapping meodies!!

Ah wait this is Eurydice now, gotta go back a few seconds to catch that. I keep getting her mixed up with Persephone 😅

Oh now we’ve got Eurydice and Orpheus relationship troubles? Huh, I kinda assumed they’d be the perfect couple till her death.

And a semi callback to her song, nice.

Hay Little Songbird (Live)

DAMN his voice is deep!

Is this Eurydice??

Is- Is Hades seducing her? To work for him of smth? Ummm.

Not the canary!

That shaker sounds like a rattlesnake, and it does not bode well for a little bird.

When the Chips are Down (Live)

Oh hey I was right! It is a metaphorical rattlesnake!

Does she choose to go to the Underworld of her own volition? I thought she like- died.

Gone I'm Gone (Live)

She does??

Ouch. She sounds so resigned.

Is this a metaphor for her starving to death? Oof.

The harmonies!!

Wait for Me (Live)

“Six feet under” oh yep.

“Lay low, stay outta sight” - getting Hamilton's Stay Alive vibes.

“Don’t look back” ah. FORESHADOWING.

Ohhh the River Styx being a high wall is so smart!

“And don’t look no one in the eye” I must be too deep in the Odyssey related fandoms, because I'm seeing puns where there are none lmao

The HARMONIES!

Poor Orpheus, but I mean, he was kinda being a bit… naive? If he didn’t prepare for winter and just went off in his own head to make songs?

Why We Build the Wall (Live)

Free from who?

Enemy? 👀

(Yes, I'm aware I'm being led into asking all the questions he wants me to ask, but in my defence, it's very effective.)

Oh huh. Wasn't expecting it to be poverty, tho maybe I should've.

Him calling them “My children” plus the chanting is uh. Why does this sound like cult propaganda?

His voice sounds like the Ozymandias poem guy.

Also giving Frollo “She ran, I pursued” vocal vibes.

“Behind closed doors” - ominous.

Ha! Ok nice subversion.

Our Lady of the Underground (Live)

Persepone is a drug dealer XD

That’s a strange note on “there’s a crack in the wall”

Oh no, am I supposed to remember all these band member names? *crying*

Way Down Hadestown II (Live)

Bringing back motifs I see.

The pickaxes as percussion is cool.

Oop, Eurydice is getting a bit of a wake up call.

Chant II (Live)

Ooooh does the ‘backdoor’ Hermes meant, mean that Orpheus doesn’t have to ‘die’ to get there? ‘Cause he didn’t sign anything, which is a metaphor for him not actually being dead in the myth, so he can still leave.

“Hungry for the underworld” - the pomegranate?

And now Eurydice and Orpheus are singing half the La la la la tune each as if to each other from across the Underworld!

Ooh I LIKE those slant rhymes! "Young man, you can strum your lyre, I have strung the world in wire."

Oh this is where Orpheus sings his plea!! I know this is a thing because of Udad's Underworld Blues lol.

Epic III (Live)

The harmonies 🥺

Oh! It’s that part from Wolfy's animatic :O

I’m tearing up bro.

Just thinking that Eurydice was so upset with Orpheus for focusing on writing his song about Hades and Persephone, but it's that very song that is giving him a chance to sway Hades' mind. But on the other hand, if he'd focused less on the song, he never would've had to use it, y'know?

Word to the Wise (Live)

Ha the Fates(?) doing Hades’ inner monologue like, yeah bro u screwed yourself.

Uh oh this is probs where Hades comes up with the ultimatum. Wait no don't-

His Kiss the Riot (Live)

Those strings are creepy.

Belladonna? Oh the poisonous flower.

Did he call Orpheus the Jack of Hearts?

That acordian is awesome.

Fuck, I knew it.

He sounds like the guy who does the creepily ominous monologue in Micheal Jackson's Thriller.

Promises (Live)

Oh huh. It’s my theory from the 2nd song but it's Eurydice feeling betrayed that the world isn't always plentiful and not Orpheus?

Those strings are gorgeous!

Oh! A duet!

When the couple actually works out their shit:

“I do” omgggg!

KEEP WALKING. DONT LOOK BACK.

Wait for Me II (Live)

Aww that’s nice. Persephone and Hades are gonna try too!

Oh no not the “wait” like in Hurricane-

Doubt Come In (Live)

Oh noooooo

KEEP GOING. JUST KEEP GOING. SHE’S WITH YOU

OH NOOOO DON’T FALTER

LISTEN TO HER! HOLD ON! KEEP GOING!

... Oh god

Road to Hell II (Live)

NO THERE'S A FUCKING AD

Hermes sounds so sad but resigned. Like, 'Oh well. I knew it would turn out like this, but I'd hoped.' Which like. SAME.

The instruments stripped away so it's only silence and one voice is so good.

I can just imagine Orpheus collapsed shell shocked on stage as Hermes not unkindly pushes him to go on.

That reprise and ending is so fucking good AHHH omg no regrets. Some regrets. Whatever, it was good.

... Time to listen to it again with lyrics :D

And then I'm gonna listen to the Original Broadway Cast Recording!

[froizetta]

Since it's WIP Wednesday, I've decided to post an excerpt from a longer WIP to motivate myself to write it! If it's technically on the internet, I can't just not finish it, can I? Right??? Fingers crossed I can make this a regular thing with other WIPs...

So anyway, here's part of chapter 1 from my early-career superbat identity porn fic!

“The thing you’ve gotta remember,” Jimmy said firmly with a slightly overenthusiastic wave of his jack and coke. A little bit of liquid sloshed out onto the countertop. “The thing you gotta remember. Is.” He blinked. “Ah, cripes. What was it again?”

Clark absently took a sip of his own drink. The whisky was at least a pleasant burn in his throat, even if it wasn’t exactly his favorite flavor. “Gee, I don’t think I can help you with that, Jim.”

Jimmy beamed. “Oh yeah! The thing you’ve gotta remember is, that there’re plenty of fish in the sea.”

Clark couldn’t quite suppress the wry quirk to his smile. “Wow. That’s some original advice right there.”

“No, but for real though!” Jimmy insisted, slamming an emphatic fist on the table. “Just. So many fish. A whole ocean! Of women! And, uh, also not women!”

“That does sound like a lot of people.”

“Exactly,” Jimmy said, nodding sagely. “You’ve just gotta widen your net, is all. To more than, like, one fish-woman.”

Ah, yes. Clark was honestly a little surprised it had taken him five drinks to bring it up. Apparently, Jimmy had needed some Dutch courage before embarking on the ‘romance advice’ portion of the evening.

Clark could humor him on it, at least. “You mean Lois?” he asked.

“Yeah I mean Lois! Don’t get me wrong, Lois is great. But she’s just one fish,” Jimmy said emphatically. “Like, sure, maybe she’s a really cool fish. Like… Like koi or something. Koi are actually pretty amazing, did you know they—” He paused and then shook his head. “Wait, no, this isn’t the time for fun fish facts. What I mean is, just because koi are cool, doesn’t mean there aren’t equally cool salmon. Or tuna. Don’t let the koi blind you to all the…the really hot tuna around you. You know?”

Jimmy looked concerningly pleased with his increasingly labored metaphor. Clark charitably chose to blame this on the alcohol rather than Jimmy’s abilities as a writer. “Maybe you’re right, Jim. I guess it’s pretty silly to be so stuck on her, huh?”

Jimmy frowned. “Well, I wouldn’t say that. I think you guys would be great together, you know that.”

“I’m not sure her new fella would agree with you,” he said. Embarrassingly, the glumness in his tone wasn’t entirely feigned.

“Don’t be so pessimistic,” Jimmy said insistently. “We don’t know that it’s like that. Maybe it’s just a pity date?”

It wasn’t just a pity date, Clark was pretty sure about that. Lois had been wearing the perfume she wore whenever she wanted to impress someone. And yes, that was a creepy thing to notice, but he couldn’t help it, okay? Super-senses make a lot of things really hard to ignore.

He shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s none of my business anyway. I know she doesn’t see me that way, and that’s fine.” And it was. He knew that to Lois, he was just a coworker – and a bumbling, awkward, country bumpkin of one at that. Even though he definitely hammed up the act to create distance between Clark Kent and Superman, the real Clark Kent still wasn’t the kind of guy who would appeal to someone like Lois. She’d want someone classy and sophisticated. Someone like her.

Probably someone like whatever guy she was on a date with right now, in fact.

“And, I mean… it's Lois,” he added, as neutrally as he could manage. “She’s out of most people’s leagues. It’s not— I mean, I never really thought I had a shot with her, you know? So I’m not about to get all bent out of shape because of one date. Honest.”

Apparently, this wasn’t what Jimmy had wanted to hear, at least judging by the way his face fell. “What? No no no, that’s not what I— Look, I’m not trying to say you don’t have a chance there. In fact, I think she’d be lucky to date you. But what I mean is, it’s not the end of the world if she doesn’t see that. You’re an awesome dude! I just think you deserve to be happy, with or without Lois.”

“Oh,” Clark said, then blinked and ducked his head, taken aback by how hard that had hit him. Jimmy really was a great friend. He suddenly felt guilty for spending their evening together daydreaming about eating pizza on his couch. “Shucks, Jim, that’s…that’s real nice of you to say.”

“I’m not being ‘nice’, I’m being honest. Listen veeery closely, Clark.” Jimmy set his glass down and grasped Clark around the shoulders, looking him straight in the eye.

Clark tensed. “Um. What’s happening.”

“Shush,” Jimmy said. “You’re listening.”

“I am?”

“You are. Now focus and take this in. Really internalize it.” His gaze was a little unsteady, but still intense and undoubtedly sincere. “You – Clark Kent – are a bona fide catch.”

Clark couldn’t help but let out a snort of laughter. It would be easier to take Jimmy seriously if he wasn’t starting to slur his words. “A ‘catch’? Are we still on the fish metaphor?”

Jimmy blinked. “What? No, no. Look, you’re smart, you’re a successful reporter. You’re probably the nicest guy I know. And you’re tall, like…what, 6’1”? 6’2”?”

“Something like that,” Clark half-lied with an easy smile.

“Yeah, so. Tall. Trust me, as a short guy, that’s a big plus. Everyone loves tall guys. You’re, you know, the tall, dark and handsome type. Like Superman!”

His smile froze. “Oh?”

“Yeah! Chicks love Superman. Not saying you look much like him, of course—”

“Of course,” Clark agreed.

“—but you’ve got, like. A similar appeal.” He squinted up at Clark. “You know, I’m not the best judge for this type’a thing, but if I feel like you’d clean up real nice if you made the effort.”

“Hm. I dunno, Jim…”

Jimmy was insistent. “You could change up your style, maybe. You ever tried contacts?”

“I’m afraid they don’t really agree with me,” Clark said apologetically. Which was true, in a sense. The glasses were pretty integral to the whole secret identity thing, after all.

“Shame,” Jimmy said, finally letting go of Clark to lean back. But as he did, something over Clark’s shoulder caught his eye. He grinned. “Oh, hey, my first piece of evidence that you’re a catch: I’m 90% sure that guy is checking you out right now.”

“What?” Clark said and made to look behind him.

Before he could turn, Jimmy grabbed his face in both hands. “Shhhhh!” Jimmy said urgently, even though Clark wasn’t saying anything. “You can’t just look. That’s waaay too obvious.”

Clark was pretty sure Jimmy was being more obvious than looking himself would have been, but he stayed obligingly still while Jimmy peered over his shoulder at the mystery man.

“Okay,” Jimmy said eventually. “So I’m not great at telling when guys are hot, but I’m pretty sure this guy is hot. And, again, definitely into you. I’m 95% sure.”

“I thought it was 90%?”

“Sure, but I’ve accumulula… accumama…” He frowned and shook his head. “I’ve got more evidence since then, see? So I’m surer now!”

In retrospect, he probably should have insisted on Jimmy eating something more substantial than bar snacks over the last couple hours. “Sure, Jim,” he said gently. “It’s, uh, getting pretty late, though. Maybe we should head home soon?”

“It’s—” Jimmy squinted his watch and balked. “It’s only 10:30, so no way! I’ve got a new mission now, and it’s to wingman you with this probably hot guy. Trust me, I’m a great wingman.”

Clark raised an eyebrow. “Are you? What would you even do?”

“You know, the usual. Hey, have you met my friend Clark? He’s like 6’2” and a hotshot reporter at a big newspaper. And then I just slide out—” he made a slow swoop with his hand “—and just like that, bam! Take that, Lois! Clark’s got a hot date of his own!”

Clark raised the other eyebrow. “That’s…not particularly subtle.”

“Well, subtlety isn’t a part of the Olsen Wingman Experience. But it works!” Jimmy said brightly. “I even managed to wingman my ex-girlfriend while we were still dating, although that was mostly an accident. But it was still very effective. Thanks to that, I know for sure it works.”

“Oh!” Clark said. And then frowned. “Oh. I’m, uh. I’m sorry to hear that. Do you wanna talk about—”

“Nope,” Jimmy said firmly, decisively. “Tonight isn’t about my borderline traumatizing romantic history, tonight is about you. You and this totally hot guy who I’m, like, 99% sure is into you.”

“Mm. I see you’ve accumulated more evidence.”

“Yeah, actually! I—” Jimmy’s eyes widened. “Okay, crap. It’s 100% now. He’s coming over here.”

Clark blinked. He’d been half-convinced Jimmy had just been imagining things, but… “He is?”

“He is! Just be cool, okay?”

“Jim,” he began in protest, but before he could say anything else there was a presence at his back. Clark turned to greet the stranger. And stared. Because— Huh. Huh?

Either those whiskies had been a lot more effective on him than he’d thought, or that was Bruce Wayne leaning ever-so-casually against the bar next to him.