#Automatic name extraction

[moonsinkfoxgirl]

☕️hobbies?

hmm most of my hobbies are super generic stuff like watch anime and play video games... I guess I do very much enjoy messing around in gimp and stuff, like just today I made this as a new blog header:

the trickiest part was converting all my screenshots from the game into just the card art, thankfully ImageMagick can just do the trick if you figure out the right command:

mogrify * -crop 198x264+415+154

so I just had to count the pixels correctly and no problem, all 105 cards nicely cropped properly^^

[enhaflixer]

CHERRY TREES

arranged husband!Jungwon x trophy wife!reader - confronting cold arranged husband on your first anniversary.

ENHA HARD HOURS 18+ MDNI, Angst, fluff, a second chance, the smut is crazy im ngl to u but the angst is worse, he actually goes insane like insane he loses it.

-

The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed five times, its deep resonance echoing through the marble corridors of your estate. Without opening your eyes, you knew Jungwon was already awake. The mattress dipped slightly as he carefully extracted himself from beneath the Egyptian cotton covers, his movements deliberately gentle to avoid disturbing you. You kept your breathing steady, maintaining the pretense of sleep as you had so many mornings before.

Through barely-parted lids, you watched his silhouette move through the predawn darkness. Jungwon's routine never varied—not on weekends, holidays, or even the morning after your anniversary celebration when he'd had perhaps one glass of Château Margaux too many. Five a.m. meant feet on the floor, regardless of circumstance.

He disappeared into the expansive en-suite bathroom, closing the door with practiced quietness before the shower began to run. You rolled over to face the floor-to-ceiling windows, abandoning the charade of sleep. Outside, the manicured gardens remained dark and still, mirroring the atmosphere that permeated your mansion despite its immaculate decoration and luxurious furnishings.

One year of marriage. Three hundred and sixty-five mornings of this same choreographed dance.

By the time Jungwon emerged from the bathroom, you had straightened your side of the bed and donned your silk robe. He nodded in acknowledgment, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

"Good morning," he said, voice pleasant but neutral. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry."

"No, I was already awake," you lied, the response automatic after months of repetition. "Will you be joining me for breakfast on the terrace today?"

He checked his watch—the elegant Patek Philippe you'd given him on your six-month anniversary. "I have an early meeting. I'll grab something at the office."

You nodded, expecting this answer. Despite your chef preparing an elaborate breakfast spread every morning, Jungwon rarely sat down to eat it. You'd long since stopped taking it personally, instead viewing it as simply another aspect of your peculiar marriage.

"Madame," came a soft voice from the doorway. Your personal maid stood waiting respectfully. "The blue gown has been pressed for tonight's charity auction, and Mrs. Yang called to confirm your appointment at the salon at two."

"Thank you. Please tell the chef I'll be down shortly."

Jungwon's expression softened momentarily with what might have been gratitude. "The blue gown is a good choice. It matches the sapphires."

The brief warmth in his eyes vanished so quickly you questioned whether you'd imagined it. He dressed efficiently, selecting the navy suit you'd suggested earlier in the week. You busied yourself reviewing the day's schedule on your tablet, giving him space while maintaining the illusion of comfortable domesticity.

"I'll send the car for you at six," he said, adjusting his tie in the mirror. Perfect Windsor knot, as always. "The auction starts at seven, but your mother-in-law suggested we arrive early to greet the host committee."

"I'll be ready," you assured him. "The blue complements the sapphires your family gifted me last Christmas—perfect for the society photographers."

He nodded approvingly. "Perfect. The Yangs must maintain appearances."

The phrase hung in the air between you, a reminder of what truly bound you together. Not love or passion or even friendship, but appearances. The Yang family name and reputation, upheld through generations and now entrusted to Jungwon—and by extension, to you.

Before leaving, he stopped at the bedroom door. "The new arrangement in the grand foyer—the one with the peonies and orchids. My mother asked for the name of your florist."

"I'd be happy to share their contact information," you replied, surprised that he'd noticed the flowers at all.

He hesitated, as if considering saying something more, then simply nodded and left. Moments later, you heard the soft purr of his car starting in the circular driveway below.

The suite fell silent, save for the continuing measured tick of the antique clock.

By eleven, you had completed your morning inspection of the household: reviewing the dinner menu with the chef, approving the landscaping plans for the east garden, and confirming that the linens for Friday's dinner party had been properly pressed. The mansion operated with clockwork precision under your supervision, a showcase of domestic perfection that visitors frequently praised.

Your phone chimed with a text message from Mrs. Yang—your mother-in-law.

The charity auction tonight is a perfect opportunity to connect with the Singhs. Their daughter returned from Oxford and has taken over their foundation. Jungwon could use their support for the new community project.

You typed a gracious reply, assuring her you would make the introduction. This was part of your unspoken role: social facilitator, network cultivator, the charming counterbalance to Jungwon's more reserved demeanor in public. Mrs. Yang had explicitly voiced her approval of your social graces during the marriage negotiations, though she'd phrased it more delicately at the time.

In the solarium, you sipped tea and reviewed correspondence on your tablet. The household staff moved efficiently around the estate, their presence indicated only by the occasional distant voice or the soft closing of a door. This cocoon of luxury and service had become your domain—a gilded cage, perhaps, but one you managed with impeccable skill.

The charity auction venue sparkled with crystal chandeliers and the gleam of expensive jewelry. You stood beside Jungwon, your hand resting lightly in the crook of his arm as he conversed with an important international investor. Your blue gown complemented the subtle blue in Jungwon's tie, a coordinated detail that Mrs. Yang had encouraged early in your marriage.

"And what do you think of the market's new direction?" the investor asked, unexpectedly turning to include you in the conversation.

Without missing a beat, you offered a thoughtful response based on fragments you'd gathered from Jungwon's rare comments about business. Your husband's arm tensed slightly beneath your hand—in surprise or approval, you couldn't tell.

"You've got yourself a perceptive wife, Yang," the man laughed, clearly impressed. "Better be careful or I'll recruit her for my advisory board."

Jungwon smiled, a genuine expression that transformed his handsome face. "I'm very fortunate," he agreed, turning to look at you with apparent pride.

For a moment—just a moment—the warmth in his eyes seemed real. Then a passing waiter offered champagne, and the connection broke as he reached for two glasses.

The evening continued in this manner: introductions, small talk, strategic conversations with selected guests, and the careful maintenance of the image you projected as a couple. Jungwon's hand occasionally rested at the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd with gentle pressure. To anyone watching, the gesture appeared intimate and caring.

"Your work with the children's literacy foundation has been inspirational," commented Ms. Singh as you were introduced. "My father is quite impressed."

You played your part flawlessly. Laughed at the right moments. Showed appropriate interest in business discussions. Made mental notes of important names and connections to record later in your planner. You orchestrated the introduction to the Singh family that appeared completely spontaneous, fulfilling your mother-in-law's request with such subtlety that even Jungwon seemed unaware of the manipulation.

During a lull in the event, you excused yourself to visit the ladies' room. Standing before the mirror, you studied your reflection: perfectly applied makeup, not a hair out of place, the picture of a successful young wife. Other women came and went, exchanging pleasantries, complimenting your gown or asking about upcoming social events.

"You and Jungwon always look so happy together," sighed a fellow socialite as she applied fresh lipstick. "My husband can barely remember which events are on our calendar, let alone coordinate his tie with my outfit."

You smiled politely. "Jungwon is very attentive to details."

When you returned to the main hall, you spotted your husband across the room, engaged in conversation with the Singh patriarch as you had arranged. His posture was relaxed, confident, his expression animated as he discussed something that clearly interested him. You rarely saw that expression at home.

As if sensing your gaze, he looked up and met your eyes across the crowded room. For a brief moment, something unreadable flickered across his face. He excused himself from the conversation and made his way to your side.

"Is everything alright?" he asked quietly.

"Of course," you assured him. "Mr. Singh seems interested in your project."

He nodded. "Yes, thank you for the introduction. He mentioned you'd spoken highly of the initiative."

"That's what wives do, isn't it?" you replied, the words emerging more wistfully than you'd intended.

Jungwon studied your face, his brow furrowing slightly. "Are you tired? We can leave if you'd like."

"No," you said quickly. "Your mother would be disappointed if we left before the final auction lot."

The mention of his mother was enough to settle the matter. Jungwon nodded and offered his arm again, leading you back into the social whirl. The rest of the evening passed in a blur of smiles and small talk, your practiced responses on autopilot while your mind drifted elsewhere.

The mansion was quiet when you returned just after midnight, though a few lights remained on for your arrival. The night butler opened the door as the car pulled up.

"Welcome home, Madame, Sir," he greeted with a respectful bow. "May I bring anything before you retire?"

"No thank you," Jungwon replied, loosening his tie. "That will be all for tonight."

As the butler disappeared, Jungwon turned to you in the grand foyer, its marble floors gleaming under the soft chandelier light. "Successful evening," he commented, his voice echoing slightly in the vast space. "The Singhs have invited us to their summer compound next month."

"That's wonderful," you replied, slipping off your heels with a small sigh of relief. "Your mother will be pleased."

He set down his keys and looked at you directly, something he rarely did at home. "You don't need to keep mentioning my mother. I'm capable of recognizing business opportunities on my own."

The unexpected sharpness in his tone surprised you. "I didn't mean to suggest otherwise."

He sighed, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair, disheveling it slightly. "I'm sorry. That came out wrong."

The apology hung awkwardly between you. Jungwon rarely expressed irritation, maintaining the same polite distance whether discussing dinner plans or household accounts.

"It's late," you said finally. "We're both tired."

He nodded, the momentary crack in his composure already repaired. "I have some work to finish. Don't wait up."

You watched him retreat to his home office, the door closing firmly behind him. In the kitchen, you found the chef had left a covered plate of small desserts and a pot of tea keeping warm. The thoughtful gesture—understanding your tendency to skip dinner at formal events—brought an unexpected lump to your throat.

The mansion was beautiful—spacious, elegantly decorated, with every luxury and convenience. The marriage looked perfect from the outside: handsome, successful husband; accomplished, supportive wife; respected families united through a beneficial alliance. You wanted for nothing material.

And yet.

Upstairs, your nightwear had already been laid out and the bed turned down. In the adjoining bathroom, you methodically removed your jewelry and makeup, the familiar routine requiring no thought. Your reflection stared back, younger without the carefully applied cosmetics but somehow sadder too.

When you finally slipped between the cool sheets, Jungwon's side of the bed remained empty. You knew from experience that he might not come upstairs for hours. Sometimes you woke briefly in the night to feel the mattress dip as he joined you, maintaining a careful distance even in sleep.

As exhaustion pulled you toward unconsciousness, you wondered—not for the first time—what thoughts occupied your husband's mind during his late-night work sessions. Whether he ever questioned the arrangement that had brought you together. Whether he ever wished for something more than this immaculate, empty performance you both maintained.

Outside, a gentle rain began to fall against the panoramic windows, drops catching the moonlight like silver tears against the darkness.

-

The first anniversary dinner had been your mother-in-law's idea.

"A small celebration," she'd said during your weekly tea. "Nothing extravagant, of course. Just family to commemorate the successful first year."

You'd nodded and smiled, playing your part. "I'll coordinate with the chef for a special menu."

A successful first year. The phrase echoed in your mind as you supervised the staff arranging peonies and orchids in the dining room—Jungwon's mother's favorites. The crystal gleamed under the chandelier light, the silver polished to mirror brightness, the napkins folded into perfect swans. Success measured in appearances, in business connections forged, in social obligations fulfilled.

Not in moments of genuine connection, in shared laughter, in the casual intimacy of a hand brushing hair from your face. Those metrics of success remained conspicuously absent from your marriage ledger.

"The wine selection has been brought up from the cellar, Madame," said the butler. "And the chef has prepared the appetizers exactly as you specified."

"Thank you," you replied, adjusting a place setting minutely. "Mr. Yang will be home by seven, and his parents will arrive at seven-thirty."

The butler nodded and withdrew, leaving you alone in the perfect dining room of your perfect mansion in your perfect marriage that was, somehow, entirely empty.

Jungwon arrived precisely at seven, as predictable as the sunrise. You heard the familiar sound of his car, followed by his measured footsteps in the foyer. When he appeared in the doorway of the dining room, he was already dressed in the suit you'd laid out—the charcoal gray Tom Ford that his mother once commented made him look distinguished.

"Everything looks lovely," he said, surveying the room with appreciative eyes. "You've outdone yourself."

"Thank you," you replied, accepting the compliment with practiced grace. "Your mother mentioned Mr. Kim might join them. I've set an extra place just in case."

Something flickered across Jungwon's face—annoyance, perhaps. "He wasn't mentioned to me."

"He's the family attorney. Perhaps there's business to discuss."

"On our anniversary dinner?" The edge in Jungwon's voice surprised you. "Some things should remain separate from business."

You studied your husband's face, wondering at this unusual display of emotion. "Would you prefer I call your mother and inquire?"

"No," he said, composure returning like a mask sliding back into place. "It doesn't matter."

But it did matter, and the tension in his shoulders told you so. This was new—this momentary crack in the facade. You wanted to press further, to understand what had triggered this response, but years of social conditioning held you back.

Instead, you said, "There's time for a drink before they arrive. Would you like something?"

He nodded, following you to the sitting room where the bar cart awaited. You poured him two fingers of the Macallan 25-year he preferred, your movements precise and practiced. When you handed him the crystal tumbler, your fingers brushed his—an accidental touch that shouldn't have felt significant but somehow did.

"One year," he said quietly, staring into the amber liquid.

"Yes," you agreed, pouring yourself a small measure of the same. "It's gone quickly."

The silence between you stretched, filled with all the words neither of you knew how to say. Jungwon seemed on the verge of speaking when the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of his parents.

The moment, whatever it might have been, evaporated.

Dinner progressed with the same choreographed precision as every family gathering. Mrs. Yang complimented the decor, inquired about your recent charity work, and dominated the conversation with updates on various family connections. Mr. Yang, stern and reserved like his son, contributed occasional comments about business or politics. And Mr. Kim, who had indeed accompanied them, observed it all with the calculated interest of someone evaluating an investment.

"The first year is always the most challenging," Mrs. Yang declared over the entrée, smiling at you and Jungwon with evident satisfaction. "And you two have managed it beautifully."

"Indeed," agreed Mr. Kim, raising his wine glass in a small toast. "The Yang family's standing has only strengthened. Your partnership has proven most advantageous."

Partnership. Not marriage. The distinction wasn't lost on you.

"And the foundation gala last month," Mrs. Yang continued. "Several board members commented on how impressive you both were. The Choi family was particularly taken with you, dear." She directed this last comment at you. "Mrs. Choi mentioned how fortunate Jungwon is to have found such an accomplished wife."

"I am fortunate," Jungwon agreed smoothly, the response automatic. He didn't look at you as he said it.

"Now, about the expansion into renewable energy," Mr. Yang began, turning to his son. "The board is meeting next week to discuss the proposal."

Business at the anniversary dinner, just as you'd predicted. You caught Jungwon's eye across the table, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. For once, it felt like you were truly on the same side, united in your recognition of the situation's irony.

As the men discussed business, Mrs. Yang leaned closer to you. "You know, dear, I've been meaning to ask... it's been a year now. Any news you'd like to share? Any... expectations?"

The delicate emphasis made her meaning clear. You felt heat rise to your face, embarrassment mingling with a deeper discomfort.

"Not yet," you replied quietly, maintaining your composure despite the intrusive question.

"Well, there's still time," she said, patting your hand. "Though of course, an heir is important for the Yang legacy. My husband's grandmother used to say, 'A tree without new leaves withers.'"

You nodded politely, taking a sip of wine to avoid having to respond further. Across the table, you noticed Jungwon's shoulders tense, though he gave no other indication of having overheard.

The rest of the evening passed in a similar vein—discussions of business, thinly veiled inquiries about family planning, and reminiscences about the wedding that focused primarily on its beneficial outcomes for the Yang family interests.

Not once did anyone ask if you were happy.

After seeing his parents and Mr. Kim to the door, Jungwon returned to the sitting room where you were nursing a final glass of wine. The house felt unnaturally quiet after the departure of the guests, the air heavy with unspoken thoughts.

"My mother was pleased," he said, loosening his tie and pouring himself another whiskey. "She said the dinner was perfect."

"Of course she did," you replied, a hint of bitterness seeping into your voice despite your best efforts. "Everything about us is perfect on the surface."

Jungwon looked at you sharply. "What does that mean?"

The wine, the emotional strain of the evening, the accumulation of a year's worth of silences—something inside you finally cracked.

"It means this," you gestured between the two of you, "isn't a marriage. It's a business arrangement with living quarters."

His expression hardened. "That's unfair. I've given you everything you could want."

"Everything except yourself," you countered, your voice rising slightly. "We live in the same house, sleep in the same bed, but you might as well be a thousand miles away."

"I don't know what you expect," he said stiffly. "We both understood the nature of this marriage from the beginning."

"Did we? Because I didn't agree to a lifetime of politeness and distance. I didn't agree to be nothing more than the perfect hostess and social coordinator for your business connections."

Jungwon set down his glass with careful precision. "You've never complained before."

"When would I have complained, Jungwon? During the three minutes of conversation we have each morning? Or perhaps during our public performances where we pretend to be a loving couple?"

He ran a hand through his hair, disheveling its perfect arrangement. "I thought you were satisfied with our arrangement. You manage the household, attend the events, fulfill your responsibilities—"

"Responsibilities?" The word struck like a match against your accumulated frustration. "Is that all I am to you? A set of responsibilities to be fulfilled?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean? Please, enlighten me about my role in this arrangement, since clearly I've misunderstood."

His jaw tightened. "You're my wife."

"Your wife," you repeated, the word suddenly sounding hollow. "And what does that mean to you? Because from where I stand, I might as well be your assistant or your housekeeper for all the genuine connection between us."

"You're being dramatic," he said dismissively. "Perhaps you've had too much wine."

The condescension in his tone was the final straw. A year of suppressed emotions—loneliness, frustration, yearning—erupted like a volcano too long dormant.

"Don't you dare dismiss me," you snapped, rising to your feet. "I have spent a year of my life walking on eggshells, trying to be perfect, trying to please you and your family, and for what? A thank you when I select the right tie? A nod of approval when I make the right business connection?"

Jungwon stared at you, clearly taken aback by your outburst. "I don't understand where this is coming from."

"Of course you don't! You've never bothered to see me as anything more than a convenient addition to your perfectly ordered life. Wake up at five, ignore wife, go to work, come home, work more, sleep. Repeat until death."

"That's not fair," he protested, but his voice lacked conviction.

"Isn't it? When was the last time you asked me about my day? Or shared something personal about yours? When was the last time you looked at me—really looked at me—not as the 'Madame' of this house or as an accessory at a business function, but as a woman? As your wife?"

The color drained from Jungwon's face, but you were beyond stopping now. The floodgates had opened, and a year's worth of unspoken thoughts poured forth in a torrent.

"We haven't even consummated our marriage, Jungwon! One year, and you've never once reached for me in the night. Never once kissed me with anything resembling passion. Do you have any idea how that feels? To lie beside someone night after night, wanting to be touched, to be desired, and meeting nothing but polite distance?"

His eyes widened in shock at your bluntness. "I—I thought you preferred our current arrangement. You never indicated—"

"Indicated?" You laughed, the sound brittle. "Would it have mattered if I had? You barely look at me when we're alone together. You keep yourself locked in your office until I'm asleep. Tell me, Jungwon, are you repulsed by me? Is that it?"

"No!" The vehemence of his response surprised you both. "That's not it at all."

"Then what? What keeps you at arm's length? Because I can't live like this anymore—this half-life of appearances and politeness with nothing real beneath it."

You moved closer, anger giving you courage you'd never had before. "How do you satisfy your desires, Jungwon? Do you have someone else? Some mistress in an apartment downtown who gets to see the real you? Who gets to feel your touch, your passion?"

He looked genuinely shocked. "There's no one else. I would never—"

"Then what?" Your voice broke slightly. "Are you simply that cold? That disconnected from your own body, your own needs? Because I refuse to believe a healthy man in his prime feels nothing, wants nothing."

Jungwon's jaw tightened. "This conversation is inappropriate."

"Inappropriate?" You were nearly shouting now. "We're married! This is exactly the conversation we should have had months ago! Do you have any idea what it's like to wonder if there's something wrong with you? To lie awake wondering why your husband never reaches for you? To start believing that maybe you're fundamentally undesirable?"

"That's not—" he began, but you cut him off.

"I've started inventing stories in my head, Jungwon. Elaborate scenarios to explain why my husband treats me like a porcelain doll. Maybe you're secretly in love with someone from your past. Maybe you prefer men. Maybe you have some medical condition you're too embarrassed to discuss. I've considered everything because the alternative—that you simply feel nothing for me—is too painful to bear."

His face had gone pale. "It's none of those things."

"Then help me understand," you pleaded, anger giving way to raw vulnerability. "Because the silence is killing me. The wondering is killing me. Are you like this with everyone? This... removed? This contained? Or is it just me you can't bring yourself to touch?"

Jungwon paced away from you, his composure cracking visibly. For a moment, he looked like he might retreat to his office—his usual escape—but instead, he stopped at the window, staring out at the darkness.

"I live in my head," he said so quietly you almost missed it. "Always have. Physical... intimacy... doesn't come naturally to me."

"Have you ever let yourself feel something?" you asked, your tone softer now. "With anyone?"

He was silent for so long you thought he might not answer. When he did, his voice was strained. "There was someone in college. It ended badly. I lost control, became... emotional. My father said it was embarrassing. Unbecoming of a Yang."

The confession surprised you. This tiny glimpse into his past felt like more intimacy than you'd experienced in a year of marriage.

"And since then?"

"Since then I've learned to be careful. Controlled." He turned to face you. "I thought I was respecting your space. Your independence."

"Respecting my space?" You stared at him incredulously. "There's a difference between respect and indifference, Jungwon."

"I'm not indifferent to you," he said quietly.

"Then what are you? Because from my perspective, I might as well be living alone for all the emotional connection between us."

He turned away again, his shoulders rigid with tension. "I don't know how to do this."

"Do what?"

"This." He gestured vaguely. "Marriage. Intimacy. I wasn't raised for it."

"Neither was I," you countered. "But I'm trying. I've been trying for a year while you've been hiding behind work and politeness and duty."

You moved to stand beside him at the window, close but not touching. "Do you ever look at me and feel anything, Jungwon? Anything at all? Because sometimes I catch you watching me when you think I won't notice, and there's something in your eyes that disappears the moment I turn toward you."

He swallowed visibly. "I notice everything about you," he admitted, the words seeming to cost him. "The way you arrange flowers according to your mood. How you always leave the last bite of dessert. The small sigh you make when you're reading something that touches you."

The revelation stunned you. "Then why—"

"Because wanting leads to needing," he interrupted, his voice suddenly raw. "And needing makes you vulnerable. My father taught me that. The moment you need someone, you've given them the power to destroy you."

The silence stretched between you, heavy with the weight of truths finally spoken aloud. When Jungwon finally turned back to face you, his expression was uncharacteristically vulnerable.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, and for once, the question seemed genuine.

The simplicity of the question momentarily deflated your anger. What did you want? It was a question you'd asked yourself countless times during sleepless nights.

"I want a husband, not a housemate," you said finally. "I want to know the man behind the perfect facade. I want to feel wanted, desired, known. I want the possibility of love, even if it's not there yet."

Your voice cracked on the last words, and you felt tears threatening. "Sometimes I think if I sleep with you once and let you get me pregnant, at least I won't be so damn lonely. At least I'd have someone who needs me, truly needs me, not just for appearances or social connections."

"A child deserves better than to be born from desperation," Jungwon said softly, surprising you with his insight.

"And a wife deserves better than emotional abandonment," you countered. "I look at other couples sometimes—even the arranged marriages in our circle—and I see moments of genuine tenderness. A hand on a shoulder. A private smile. Small intimacies that say 'I see you, I choose you.' We have none of that, Jungwon."

He flinched as if struck. "Is that what you think? That I only see you as a means to an heir?"

"How would I know what you think?" you demanded. "You barely speak to me about anything that matters. For all I know, you've mapped out our entire future in that methodical mind of yours—the optimal time for children, their education, their role in continuing the Yang legacy—all without once considering what I might want, what I might need as a woman, as a person."

"That's not true," he protested, but his voice lacked conviction.

"When have you ever shared your fears with me, Jungwon? Your hopes? Your dreams beyond the next business deal or family obligation? When have you ever asked about mine?"

He had no answer, and his silence was damning.

"I can't do this anymore," you said, suddenly exhausted. "I can't keep pretending that this empty performance is enough. I need more than politeness and perfect appearances. I need connection. I need intimacy. I need to at least feel that there's the possibility of love someday."

"And if I can't give you that?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

The question hung in the air between you, a challenge and a plea at once. You met his gaze directly.

"Then this marriage is already over, regardless of what we show the world."

The words fell like stones into still water, ripples of consequence expanding outward. Jungwon's face paled, and something like genuine fear flickered in his eyes.

"You would leave?" he asked, the question revealing more vulnerability than he'd shown in a year of marriage.

"Not in body, perhaps," you replied. "The scandal would devastate both our families. But in spirit? I'm already halfway gone, Jungwon. Every day of polite distance pushes me further away."

He sank onto the sofa, looking suddenly lost. This wasn't the composed, controlled man you'd lived alongside for a year. This was someone else—someone real and raw and unsure.

"I don't know how to be what you need," he admitted finally.

"I'm not asking for perfection," you said, your anger giving way to a profound sadness. "I'm asking for effort. For honesty. For the chance to build something real together, even if it's difficult. Even if we don't know exactly how."

Jungwon stared at his hands, his wedding ring catching the light. For a long moment, he said nothing. When he finally looked up, his eyes held a complexity of emotion you'd never seen before.

"I need time," he said. "To think. To... process all of this."

The request was reasonable, but it still stung. Even now, faced with the potential collapse of your marriage, he couldn't give you an immediate response.

"Fine," you said, suddenly bone-weary. "Take your time. You know where to find me."

You turned to leave, your body heavy with emotional exhaustion, when his voice stopped you.

"Where are you going?"

"To the blue guest room," you replied without turning. "I think we both need space tonight."

He made no move to stop you as you left the sitting room, your anniversary dress rustling softly with each step. The grand staircase seemed longer than usual, each step an effort. Behind you, you heard the clink of glass—Jungwon pouring another drink, perhaps, or simply moving restlessly in the silent house.

The blue guest room was immaculate, as was every room in the mansion, but it felt cold and impersonal. You sat on the edge of the bed, still in your evening dress, too tired even to cry. The confrontation had drained you completely, leaving nothing but a hollow ache where hope had once resided.

From the nightstand, your phone chimed with a message. Mechanically, you reached for it, expecting perhaps your mother-in-law with some post-dinner comment.

Instead, it was Jungwon.

I do want you. I always have. That's what frightens me.

You stared at the screen, the words blurring slightly as you read them over and over. A text message—that was what it had taken to finally glimpse the man behind the mask. Not a conversation, not a touch, but characters on a screen.

Another message appeared below the first.

I'm sorry. I should have said this to your face.

I'll be in the study when you're ready to talk. No matter how late.

The formality, even now. The careful distance maintained even in apology. You placed the phone back on the nightstand without responding, a weariness settling over you that went beyond physical exhaustion.

For a moment, you sat motionless on the edge of the guest bed, the weight of the past year pressing down on your shoulders. The perfect house with its perfect furnishings suddenly felt suffocating—every object a reminder of the performance your life had become.

You rose and moved to the window, pressing your palm against the cool glass. Outside, the rain had stopped, but the night remained dark and close. The mansion grounds, usually so meticulously maintained, seemed oppressive in their perfection. Even the garden paths were laid out with mathematical precision, every plant and stone exactly where it should be.

Like you. Exactly where you should be. The proper wife in her proper place.

The realization came suddenly, with absolute clarity: you couldn't stay here tonight. Not in this guest room, not in this house, not with Jungwon waiting in his study for a conversation that would likely end with more careful words and measured promises.

You needed air. Space. A place where you could remember who you were before becoming Mrs. Yang.

With deliberate movements, you changed out of your evening dress and into simple clothes. Packed a small overnight bag with essentials. Found your personal credit card—the one not connected to the Yang family accounts.

You hesitated only when it came time to write a note. What could you possibly say that wouldn't be misinterpreted or dismissed? In the end, you kept it simple:

I need space to breathe. Please don't follow me. I'll contact you when I'm ready.

You left it on the bed, where it would surely be found when someone came looking for you. Then, silently, you made your way down the service stairs and through the side entrance—avoiding the main foyer where you might encounter Jungwon.

The night air hit your face as you stepped outside, cool and clean and startlingly fresh. You took a deep breath, perhaps the first real one in months, and felt something inside you loosen just slightly.

You didn't call for the driver. Instead, you walked down the long driveway and past the gates, your heartbeat quickening with each step that took you farther from the mansion. Only when you reached the main road did you order a rideshare, giving the address of an old friend—one who predated your marriage, who had no connection to the Yang family circle.

As the car pulled away, you glanced back at the house—a magnificent silhouette against the night sky, lights burning in the study window where Jungwon waited for a conversation that wouldn't happen tonight.

Tomorrow would bring complications, explanations, perhaps reconciliation. But tonight, for the first time in a year, you were choosing yourself.

Your phone buzzed with a message from Jungwon.

Are you coming down?

You turned off the notifications and watched the mansion recede in the distance, growing smaller until it disappeared from view entirely.

-

The city lights blurred through your tears as the car wound its way through the quiet streets. The driver, sensing your distress, maintained a respectful silence, occasionally glancing at you in the rearview mirror with concern. You kept your face turned toward the window, watching as elite neighborhoods gave way to more modest surroundings.

When the car finally pulled up outside Leah's apartment building, you sat motionless for a moment, suddenly uncertain. It was past midnight. What if she wasn't home? What if she had company? What if—

"We're here, ma'am," the driver said gently, interrupting your spiraling thoughts.

"Thank you," you managed, gathering your small bag and stepping out into the night.

Leah's building was nothing like the Yang mansion—a six-story pre-war structure with a faded charm that stood in stark contrast to the sleek modernity you'd grown accustomed to. You hesitated at the entrance, then pressed her apartment number on the intercom.

After a long moment, a sleepy voice answered. "Hello?"

"Leah," you said, your voice cracking slightly. "It's me. I'm sorry it's so late, but—"

"Oh my god!" The sleepiness vanished instantly. "Are you okay? I'm buzzing you up right now."

The door clicked open, and you made your way to the third floor, each step feeling heavier than the last. Before you could even knock, Leah's door swung open, revealing your oldest friend in mismatched pajamas, her curly hair wild around her face.

"What happened?" she demanded, then stopped as she took in your appearance—the elegant makeup now streaked with tears, the designer clothes hastily exchanged for whatever you'd grabbed, the overnight bag clutched in your trembling hand.

"Oh, honey," she said, simply opening her arms.

Something inside you broke. You stumbled forward into her embrace and the tears you'd been holding back for months—perhaps for the entire year of your marriage—finally erupted. Great, heaving sobs that shook your entire body, that made it impossible to speak or breathe or think.

Leah didn't ask questions. She simply guided you inside, closing the door behind you, and held you while you fell apart. Her apartment was cluttered and lived-in, books stacked on every surface, half-finished art projects leaning against walls—the complete opposite of your sterile perfection at the mansion.

"I can't—" you tried to speak, but the words dissolved into more tears.

"Shh," she soothed, leading you to her worn but comfortable couch. "Just breathe. That's all you need to do right now."

You don't know how long you cried—long enough for your eyes to swell, for your throat to grow raw, for Leah's shoulder to become damp with your tears. Eventually, the storm subsided enough for you to become aware of your surroundings again. Leah had wrapped a soft blanket around your shoulders and was pressing a mug of hot tea into your hands.

"Small sips," she instructed, settling beside you. "It has honey for your throat."

You obeyed, the warmth spreading through your chest, momentarily calming the chaos inside you.

"I left him," you said finally, your voice hoarse from crying.

Leah's eyebrows shot up. "Jungwon? You left Jungwon?"

"Just for tonight. Maybe a few days. I don't know." You shook your head, struggling to articulate the tangle of emotions. "I couldn't breathe there anymore, Leah. In that perfect house with its perfect things and its perfect emptiness."

"I always wondered," she said cautiously, "if you were really happy. You stopped talking about the real stuff after the wedding. It was all charity events and dinner parties, but never... you know. The actual marriage part."

"There was no marriage part," you confessed, fresh tears threatening. "That's the problem. We live side by side like strangers. Polite, distant strangers who happen to share the same address."

Leah reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. "Did something specific happen tonight?"

You nodded, the evening's confrontation flashing through your mind in painful fragments. "We had our anniversary dinner with his parents. And after they left, I just... broke. All the things I've been holding back for a year came pouring out."

"Good for you," Leah said firmly.

"Is it?" You looked at her, uncertain. "I said terrible things, Leah. I accused him of seeing me as nothing but a showpiece, a means to an heir. I asked if he was repulsed by me. If he was sleeping with someone else."

"And what did he say?"

"He was shocked, mostly. I don't think anyone's ever spoken to him like that before." You took another sip of tea, gathering your thoughts. "But then he said something about... about wanting me but being afraid of needing someone. Of being vulnerable."

Leah nodded thoughtfully. "That actually makes a strange kind of sense. Your husband always struck me as someone who keeps himself under tight control."

"You've met him twice," you pointed out with a watery smile.

"Twice was enough." She grinned briefly, then grew serious again. "So what happens now?"

You shook your head, feeling utterly lost. "I don't know. I just knew I had to get out of there tonight. To remember what it feels like to be... me. Not Mrs. Yang, not the society hostess, just me."

"Well, you came to the right place," Leah said, gesturing around her chaotic apartment. "Nothing perfect or polished here. Just real life in all its messy glory."

For the first time that night, you felt a small laugh bubble up. "I've missed this. I've missed you."

"I've been right here," she reminded you gently. "You're the one who got swept up into the Yang universe."

The observation stung because it contained truth. After the wedding, you had gradually withdrawn from your old friendships, immersing yourself in the role expected of Jungwon's wife. It hadn't been a conscious choice, but rather a slow submersion into a new identity that had eventually consumed the person you used to be.

"I don't know who I am anymore," you confessed, the realization dawning as you spoke it. "I've spent so long being what everyone else needed me to be that I've forgotten what I actually want."

"Then maybe that's what this time away is for," Leah suggested. "To remember."

You nodded, exhaustion suddenly washing over you. The emotional release had drained what little energy you had left after the confrontation with Jungwon.

"The guest room is a disaster area right now—art supplies everywhere," Leah said apologetically. 

"The couch is perfect," you assured her, overwhelmed.

"Shut up, you'll sleep next to me,"

-

Jungwon sat in his study, crystal tumbler of whiskey untouched beside him, as he stared at his phone screen. The message showed as delivered, but not yet read. He refreshed the screen again, a gesture he'd repeated dozens of times in the last hour.

Are you coming down?

The timestamp mocked him. It had been nearly two hours since he'd sent it, and still no response. Unease had gradually transformed into concern, then alarm when he'd finally ventured upstairs to find the blue guest room empty, save for a handwritten note on the perfectly made bed.

I need space to breathe. Please don't follow me. I'll contact you when I'm ready.

The words had hit him with physical force. He stood there staring at the note, reading it over and over as if the sparse sentences might reveal some hidden meaning. Space to breathe. Had he really been suffocating you all this time without realizing it?

Now, back in his study, Jungwon fought against his instinct to act—to call security, to track your phone, to send drivers searching the city. You had asked for space. Following you would only prove that he couldn't respect your wishes, your independence. The very thing he'd convinced himself he'd been protecting all this time.

The irony wasn't lost on him.

Jungwon picked up his phone again, debating whether to try calling. His thumb hovered over your contact information before he set the device down with a sigh of frustration. What would he even say if you answered? The right words had eluded him for an entire year of marriage; they weren't likely to materialize now, in the middle of the night, after the worst fight of your relationship.

A relationship. Was that even the right word for what you had? You had called it a "business arrangement with living quarters," and the brutal accuracy of the description had left him speechless.

Jungwon ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it completely. The careful composure he maintained at all times had crumbled the moment he'd found your note. Now, alone in his study, there was no one to witness his distress, his uncertainty, his fear.

Fear. That was the emotion he'd denied for so long, burying it beneath layers of control and duty. Fear of needing someone. Fear of being vulnerable. Fear of repeating his father's cold, loveless existence.

And in trying to avoid his father's mistakes, he had made his own. Different in method, perhaps, but identical in result: a wife who felt unseen, unwanted.

The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed two in the morning. Jungwon hadn't slept, had barely moved from his position at the desk. The silence of the mansion pressed in around him, no longer the peaceful quiet he'd always preferred, but an emptiness that echoed your absence.

On impulse, he rose and left the study, walking through the darkened house toward the master suite. Inside the bedroom, everything remained exactly as you'd both left it hours earlier—your perfume bottle on the vanity, your book on the nightstand, your robe draped over a chair. He moved to your side of the bed, sitting down carefully on the edge, and picked up the book you'd been reading.

A collection of poetry. Jungwon hadn't even known you liked poetry.

What else didn't he know about the woman he'd married? What interests, dreams, fears had you kept hidden—or worse, had tried to share only to be met with his characteristic reserve?

He opened the book to where a silk bookmark held your place. The poem was circled lightly in pencil:

Between what is said and not meant, And what is meant and not said, Most of love is lost.

The simple lines struck him with unexpected force. Jungwon stared at the words, wondering how many times you had tried to tell him what you needed, how many signals he had missed or misinterpreted.

From his pocket, his phone buzzed with an incoming call. His heart leapt as he fumbled to answer, but the caller ID showed his father's name, not yours.

"Father," he answered, struggling to keep his voice even. "It's very late."

"Where is your wife?" Mr. Yang's voice was sharp, cutting through the pretense of pleasantries.

Jungwon tensed. "How did you—"

"Mrs. Park saw her getting into a taxi. Alone. After midnight. She naturally called your mother with concerns."

Of course. The gossip network never slept. "She's visiting a friend," he said carefully.

"In the middle of the night? Without you?" His father's skepticism was palpable. "Do you take me for a fool, Jungwon? What's going on?"

A familiar pattern attempted to reassert itself—the urge to placate his father, to maintain appearances, to ensure the Yang family reputation remained unsullied. For a moment, he almost slipped into the expected response.

But the circled poem caught his eye again. Most of love is lost. He couldn't lose any more.

"We had a disagreement," Jungwon said finally, the admission feeling like ripping off a bandage. "She needed some space."

"A disagreement?" His father's tone grew icier. "Serious enough for her to leave the house? To risk being seen by others, creating speculation? What were you thinking, allowing this?"

The word "allowing" ignited something in him—a flicker of the same defiance he'd felt when his father had demanded he end his college relationship.

"I wasn't 'allowing' anything, Father. She's my wife, not my subordinate. She made a choice, and I'm respecting it."

The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. Never in his adult life had Jungwon spoken to his father with such open opposition.

"This is unacceptable," Mr. Yang said finally. "You will resolve whatever childish spat has occurred and bring her home immediately. The gala next week—"

"Is not as important as my marriage," Jungwon interrupted, surprising himself with the firmness in his voice.

"Your marriage? Suddenly you care about your marriage?" His father's laugh was without humor. "For a year you've treated it exactly as I advised—as a beneficial arrangement. Now you're telling me you've developed feelings? Become sentimental?"

The contempt in the older man's voice was unmistakable, but instead of cowering as he might have in the past, Jungwon felt a strange calm settle over him.

"Yes," he said simply. "I have feelings for my wife. I always have. And I've been wrong to hide them."

"This is disappointing, Jungwon. I expected better from you."

"I'm beginning to think your expectations are precisely the problem, Father." Jungwon took a deep breath. "I need to go now. It's late, and I have some thinking to do."

"Don't you dare hang up on—"

Jungwon ended the call, staring at the phone in mild disbelief at his own actions. Then, with deliberate movements, he silenced the device and set it aside.

Returning to the poetry book, he carefully noted the page number of the circled poem, then moved through the house to your closet. There, among the designer clothes and accessories, he searched for some clue to the woman behind the perfect facade—the woman he'd married but never truly allowed himself to know.

In the back of a drawer, he found a small wooden box, simple and clearly personal. For a moment, his ingrained respect for privacy warred with his desperate need to understand you. Privacy won—he couldn't begin rebuilding trust by violating it—but the box's existence gave him hope. There were parts of yourself you'd kept separate from your arranged life, a core identity preserved despite the pressures of being Mrs. Yang.

Jungwon returned to the study, his earlier paralysis replaced by a growing resolve. He wouldn't chase you—you'd asked for space, and he would respect that. But he could prepare for your return, could begin the work of becoming someone worthy of a second chance.

The task seemed monumentally difficult, decades of conditioning standing in opposition to what he now knew he needed to do. He had no model for the kind of husband he wanted to become, no example of vulnerability balanced with strength.

But for the first time since you'd walked out, Jungwon felt something like hope. If you gave him the chance, he would find a way to be better. To be real. To tear down the walls he'd built over a lifetime of emotional suppression.

Dawn was breaking outside the study windows when he finally drafted a message, simple and without expectation:

I understand you need space, and I respect that. I'll be here when you're ready to talk—whether that's tomorrow or next week. I'm sorry for a year of silence. I'm listening now.

He sent it before he could second-guess himself, then set the phone down and moved to the window. Outside, the gardens were beginning to emerge from darkness, the first light revealing dew on the perfectly manicured lawns.

For once, Jungwon didn't see the perfection. Instead, he noticed how the morning light caught in a spider's web between two branches, transforming the fragile structure into something beautiful and strong. Perhaps there was a lesson there, in vulnerability's unexpected resilience.

As the mansion gradually woke around him—staff arriving, coffee brewing, the day's preparations beginning—Jungwon remained at the window, watching the light change and wondering if you, wherever you were, might be watching the same sunrise.

-

The mansion felt impossibly silent as Jungwon moved through the darkened hallways, your poetry book clutched in his hand like a lifeline. Sleep had become not just elusive but impossible, the vast emptiness of your shared bed a physical manifestation of what had been missing between you for a year. The sheets still carried your scent—a subtle perfume that he'd never properly acknowledged until now, when its absence made the fabric seem cold and lifeless.

He couldn't bear to remain in that room, surrounded by the ghosts of a thousand nights spent in careful distance. Instead, he found himself back in his study, the room that had been his refuge from intimacy for so long. Now it felt like a prison of his own making, walls lined with business achievements that suddenly seemed hollow.

With trembling hands, he placed your book on his desk and opened it once more to the marked page, the one with the circled verse that had first pierced his carefully constructed armor:

Between what is said and not meant,

And what is meant and not said,

Most of love is lost.

His fingers traced your handwriting in the margin—small, delicate notes that revealed more about your inner thoughts than a year of careful conversation had. Next to this poem, you'd written simply: Us? with the question mark trailing off like a fading hope.

One word, followed by a question mark. So much longing contained in those three small letters. Had you written this recently, or months ago? Had you been silently questioning the emptiness between you while he maintained his facade of contentment?

Jungwon turned the page, discovering more of your markings. Some poems had stars beside them, others had entire stanzas underlined. Some had exclamation points, others question marks. It was like finding a secret language, a code he should have deciphered long ago.

A poem about two rivers running parallel without ever meeting carried your annotation: This is what marriage feels like. So close yet never touching.

His breath caught. When had you written that? While lying beside him in bed, bodies carefully not touching? While sitting across from him at breakfast, exchanging polite comments about the day ahead?

He continued reading, unable to stop himself now. Each page revealed more of your hidden inner life. A poem about seasonal changes had reminds me of childhood summers before expectations written in the margin. Another about distant mountains carried the note wish we could travel together somewhere without his family or business associates.

Each annotation was a window into desires you'd never expressed, dreams you'd kept hidden. Why had he never asked what you wanted? Where you longed to go? What made you happy?

The night deepened around him, but Jungwon barely noticed. He was falling into your world, glimpsing for the first time the woman behind the perfect wife he'd taken for granted.

Then he found a page with the corner folded down, a poem about physical love:

I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

Your handwriting beside it was more hurried, almost feverish: too much to hope for? would he ever lose control enough?

Jungwon's throat tightened painfully. All those nights lying beside you, maintaining a careful distance, while you marked poems about passion and wrote desperate questions no one would see. How many nights had you lain awake, wanting him to reach for you? How many times had you considered reaching for him, only to retreat in fear of rejection?

He turned more pages, finding increasingly intimate selections. Next to Pablo Neruda's words:

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body, the sovereign nose of your arrogant face, I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes

You'd written: I dream of his mouth on my skin. Would he be disgusted by such thoughts?

The pain that shot through him was physical. Disgusted? How could you think that? But then, what else could you think when he'd maintained such careful distance, when he'd retreated to his study each night rather than face the vulnerability of desire?

Another poem, this one about hands tracing the geography of a lover's body, carried your note: I've memorized the shape of his hands during dinner parties, imagined them on me instead of on his wine glass.

Jungwon looked down at his own hands, remembering all the times they'd almost touched you—passing dishes at dinner, handing you into the car, the brief contact when giving you a gift—and how he'd always pulled back just slightly too soon. What would have happened if he'd let his fingers linger? If he'd given in to the urge to trace the line of your jaw, to feel the softness of your skin?

Hours passed as he lost himself in your secret thoughts. Some poems had tear stains, barely perceptible wrinkles in the paper where droplets had fallen and dried. Those broke him most of all—the tangible evidence of your solitary tears, shed perhaps just feet away from where he sat working, oblivious to your pain.

One poem about loneliness had simply: I am disappearing inside this house, inside this marriage, becoming nothing but "Mrs. Yang" scrawled across the bottom in handwriting that shook with emotion.

Dawn found him still at his desk, eyes burning from reading and from tears he hadn't realized he was shedding. The morning staff moved quietly through the house, shocked to see him disheveled and unshaven, the immaculate Yang heir looking like a man undone.

He ignored their concerned glances, your poetry book still open before him. But it wasn't enough. One book couldn't contain all of you. He needed more.

"Sir," the housekeeper approached hesitantly as Jungwon emerged from his study, still in yesterday's clothes, "would you like your breakfast now?"

"No," he replied, his voice hoarse from a night without sleep. "I need to see all of Madame's books. Every book in this house that she's ever touched."

The housekeeper exchanged a worried glance with the butler. "All of them, sir?"

"Every single one. Novels, poetry, anything with her handwriting in it. Bring them to the library."

He moved with feverish purpose to the library, pulling books from shelves himself—any that showed signs of your touch. Dog-eared pages, bookmarks, the slight cracking of spines that indicated frequent opening to favorite passages.

Throughout the day, the staff delivered more and more books—novels from your nightstand, reference books from the sunroom shelves, journals from your writing desk. Jungwon created careful piles around him, transforming the library floor into a map of your mind.

He found a travel book about Greece with dozens of Post-it notes marking specific locations. The private cove where no one would expect Mrs. Yang to swim naked read one note that made his heart race. Another, beside a picture of a small village: No social obligations, no family expectations—heaven.

You'd been dreaming of escape. From the mansion, from the Yang name, from him? The thought was unbearable.

In your copy of Jane Eyre, he found your underlining of Rochester's passionate declaration: "I have for the first time found what I can truly love–I have found you." Beside it, your handwriting: To be truly SEEN by someone. What would that feel like?

"Oh god," he whispered, the words escaping involuntarily. "You've never felt seen."

How could he have failed so completely? He, who prided himself on his attention to detail in business, had missed everything that mattered about the woman who shared his home, his name, his bed.

As afternoon turned to evening, Jungwon discovered a small leather journal tucked between larger books on a bottom shelf. He hesitated, knowing this was crossing a line from reading your notes to reading your private thoughts. But his need to know you, to understand what he'd missed, overrode his sense of propriety.

The journal wasn't a diary but a collection of poems you'd written yourself, clumsy in places but raw with emotion:

I practice conversations with you in my head

Witty things I might say that would make you look at me

Really look at me

But when you enter the room

My words evaporate like morning dew

And we speak of dinner parties and business associates

Never of stars or dreams or why your eyes

Sometimes follow me when you think I don't notice

Jungwon felt his careful composure—the mask he'd worn his entire adult life—shatter completely. You had seen him watching you. Had known there was something beneath his polite facade. But he'd never given you enough to be sure, had never been brave enough to let you see his wanting.

Another poem, dated just two months ago:

Your fingers brushed mine as you handed me a glass

Accidental touch that burned through my skin

I wonder if you felt it too

That current between us, electric and dangerous

Or if I imagined it, desperate for connection

For any sign that beneath your perfect suit

Beats a heart that could want me

As much as I want you

He had felt it. Every accidental touch, every brush of your hand, every moment when you stood close enough that he could smell your perfume. He had felt everything and denied it all, retreating into work and duty and the expectations drilled into him since childhood.

The worst entry was the most recent, written just days before your anniversary:

One year of marriage

Three hundred sixty-five nights of lying beside him

Listening to his breathing

Wondering if he's awake

Wondering if he ever thinks of touching me

Of breaking through the invisible wall between us

One year of perfect Mrs. Yang While the woman inside me slowly suffocates

Sometimes I think if I just reached for him once

If I was brave enough to cross that divide

But what if his rejection destroyed the last piece of me

That still believes I'm worthy of being

Wanted.

Jungwon closed the journal, his vision blurred with tears. You had been silently begging for him to reach across the divide while he had been congratulating himself on respecting your independence. The magnitude of his failure crushed him.

He didn't eat that day. Didn't change clothes. Didn't acknowledge the increasingly concerned staff who hovered at the library's periphery. Instead, he immersed himself in your hidden world, learning you through the books you'd loved, the passages you'd marked, the words you'd written when you thought no one would see.

Dawn arrived, but Jungwon had lost all sense of time. The library floor was covered with open books, each one containing fragments of your soul. He had read himself into a state of emotional exhaustion, discovering more and more evidence of your loneliness, your desire, your gradual loss of hope.

A desperate energy seized him. Reading wasn't enough. He needed to act, to change, to create physical evidence of his awakening before you returned—if you returned.

He summoned the head gardener, ignoring the man's shocked expression at his disheveled appearance.

"I need every peony on the estate moved to the front garden," he announced, his voice rough from disuse. "Every single one. From all the gardens, the greenhouse, everywhere."

"Sir, that would be hundreds of plants," the gardener protested. "And the formal design—"

"I don't care about the design," Jungwon interrupted, thinking of a note he'd found beside a picture of a wild garden: Why must everything be so ordered? So perfect? I long for beautiful chaos. "I want them arranged naturally. The way they would grow if they chose their own placement."

"But sir, your mother's landscape plan—"

"Is no longer relevant." Jungwon's eyes flashed with an intensity that made the gardener step back. "The peonies were always her choice, not my wife's. I want a garden that reflects what she loves."

"This will take all day, possibly longer," the gardener warned.

"Then start immediately. And I need something else. The bookshelves from the east parlor—bring them to the east garden. All of them."

The staff exchanged alarmed glances, but Jungwon was beyond caring about their concerns. He continued issuing instructions, driven by the need to transform the mansion—to break the perfect mold that had trapped you both.

"Sir," the butler ventured cautiously when the others had gone to carry out these strange orders, "perhaps you should rest. You haven't slept or eaten—"

"How can I rest?" Jungwon's voice broke with emotion. "Do you know what I've discovered? She's been living here for a year, lonely and unfulfilled, while I congratulated myself on being a proper husband. I've failed her completely."

The butler, who had served the Yang family for decades, had never seen the young master in such a state. "Sir, if I may... it's never too late to change course."

Jungwon looked at him sharply. "Have you seen her? Has she contacted anyone?"

"No, sir. But knowing Madame, she's not one to leave matters unresolved."

With renewed determination, Jungwon returned to the library. He selected dozens of books containing your most revealing notes and had them brought to the east garden. As the shelves were positioned on the grass, he began arranging the books, creating a physical testament to what he'd learned.

The gardeners worked throughout the day, transplanting hundreds of peonies to the front garden in a naturalistic arrangement that would horrify his mother but, he hoped, would speak to you. The once-formal approach to the house transformed into an explosion of your favorite flowers, arranged with the organic randomness of nature rather than the rigid precision of Yang tradition.

By late afternoon, Jungwon had created an outdoor library in the east garden—the private corner of the grounds where you often walked alone. He placed books on the shelves and opened others on the grass around him, creating a circle of revelations.

He had sent the staff away, needing to be alone with the evidence of his awakening. His phone buzzed repeatedly—his father, his mother, business associates all demanding attention. He ignored them all.

Instead, he picked up your poetry journal again, reading and rereading your most vulnerable confessions. The precise handwriting becoming more jagged with emotion. The careful Mrs. Yang breaking through to the woman beneath.

As sunset painted the sky in shades of pink and gold, Jungwon sat amidst the books, surrounded by the fragments of you he'd collected, feeling more alive and more terrified than he had ever been. What if it was too late? What if you had already decided that the year of emotional solitude was too high a price for the Yang name and fortune?

He wouldn't blame you. How could he? He had offered you everything except himself.

Night fell, and still he remained in the garden, under stars you had once described in a margin note as witnesses to all our silent longings. He read your words by the light of lanterns the staff had silently provided, losing himself in the labyrinth of your unspoken desires.

In the faint light, he reread the poem that had started his journey—the one about love lost between what is said and not meant, what is meant and not said. He traced your question mark with his finger, feeling the slight indentation in the paper where you had pressed the pen, perhaps harder than you intended, the physical evidence of your frustration.

"I see you now," he whispered to the empty garden, to the books that held pieces of your soul. "I see you, and I'm terrified it's too late."

The night deepened around him, but Jungwon remained among the books, keeping vigil, waiting, hoping you would come home—and fearing you would not.

-

Five days since you'd left. Five days of freedom from the perfect imprisonment that had become your life. Five days to remember who you were before becoming Mrs. Yang.

On the morning of the sixth day, as you sat on Leah's small balcony with a chipped mug of coffee, your phone lit up with a text from Jungwon's personal assistant.

Mr. Yang has canceled all appointments for the foreseeable future. The household staff reports concerning behavior. If you could contact them, they would be grateful.

You stared at the message, rereading it several times. Jungwon never canceled appointments. Even when he'd had the flu last winter, he'd conducted meetings by video rather than reschedule. His schedule was sacred, immovable.

"What's wrong?" Leah asked, noticing your expression.

You handed her the phone. She read the message and raised her eyebrows.

"Sounds like someone's having a breakdown."

"Jungwon doesn't have breakdowns," you said automatically, then paused. The man you'd confronted before leaving—the one who'd admitted his fear of vulnerability, who'd texted you his feelings rather than say them aloud—perhaps that man did have breakdowns after all.

"Are you going to go check on him?" Leah asked.

You sighed, setting down your coffee. "I have to, don't I? At the very least, I need to get more of my things." You'd left with only a small overnight bag, having no plan beyond escape.

"Want me to come with you?"

"No," you said, more decisively than you felt. "This is something I need to do alone."

As you showered and dressed, you tried to prepare yourself for what awaited. Would Jungwon be coldly angry, his moment of vulnerability already locked away? Would he have summoned his parents, ready for a united front to convince you of your duties? Or would he simply be absent, buried in work as a shield against emotion?

In the rideshare on the way to the mansion, you rehearsed what to say. You would be calm but firm. This wasn't about blame anymore but about whether a real marriage was possible between you. You needed honesty, vulnerability, true partnership—not just the performance of marriage you'd endured for a year.

But as the car approached the gates of the estate, your carefully prepared speech evaporated. The formal gardens that had always greeted visitors with mathematical precision had been transformed. Instead of the orderly rows of seasonal blooms, there was a riot of peonies—your favorite flower—planted in natural, wild groupings that looked almost as if they had grown there spontaneously.

"Wait here," you told the driver. "I may not be staying."

As you walked up the long driveway, your heart hammered against your ribs. The front door opened before you reached it, the butler appearing with an expression of profound relief.

"Madame," he said, bowing slightly. "Thank goodness you've returned."

"I'm not staying necessarily," you clarified, stepping into the foyer. "I just came to—" You stopped, noticing more changes. The formal floral arrangements that always occupied the entryway tables had been replaced with wild, exuberant bouquets of peonies and wildflowers. "What's happening here?"

"Mr. Yang has been... making adjustments to the household," the butler replied diplomatically. "He's in the east garden. He's been there nearly two days now."

Two days? "Is he... is he all right?"

The butler hesitated. "I believe he's waiting for you, Madame."

You made your way through the house, noting more changes as you went. Books that had always been perfectly arranged on shelves now sat in haphazard stacks on tables, many open to specific pages. Your books, you realized, from your private collection.

When you reached the doors leading to the east garden—your favorite part of the grounds, where you often walked alone—you paused, gathering your courage.

Nothing could have prepared you for what you found.

The garden had been transformed into an outdoor library. Bookshelves stood on the grass in a semicircle, filled with books—your books—many open to display specific pages. And in the center, sitting cross-legged on the ground surrounded by open volumes, was Jungwon.

You'd never seen him like this. His usually immaculate appearance was completely undone—hair disheveled, several days' stubble on his jaw, clothes rumpled as if he'd slept in them. He was reading intently from what you recognized as your private poetry journal, his expression a mixture of pain and wonder.

He looked up as your shadow fell across the page, and the naked hope and fear in his eyes made your breath catch.

"You came back," he said, his voice rough as if from disuse.

"What is all this?" you asked, gesturing to the surreal scene around you.

Jungwon carefully closed your journal and set it aside. He rose slowly to his feet, a man moving carefully so as not to shatter something fragile.

"I've been trying to find you," he said. "The real you. The one I should have been looking for all along."

You stepped closer, picking up one of the books from the grass. It was your copy of Neruda's love sonnets, open to a page where you'd scribbled Would he ever touch me like this? in the margin.

Heat rose to your face. "You've been reading my private notes?"

"Yes." Jungwon didn't try to justify or excuse it. "I needed to understand what I'd missed, what I'd ignored. I needed to see you—really see you."

You should have been angry at the invasion of privacy, but something in his broken expression stopped your protest. This wasn't the controlled, perfect Jungwon Yang you'd married. This was someone else entirely—raw, desperate, real.

"Do you have any idea," he continued, taking a step toward you, "how much you've wanted? How much you've needed? All these books, all these words you've underlined, notes you've written—they're full of longing I never acknowledged."

You remained silent, unsure what to say as he moved closer, stopping just short of touching you.

"I found your poem about lying beside me at night, wondering if I was awake, wondering if I ever thought about touching you." His voice broke slightly. "I did. Every night. I lay there wanting you, terrified of reaching for you, convinced that maintaining distance was the same as showing respect."

Your heart pounded so hard you were sure he must hear it. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because I almost lost you." The simple truth hung in the air between you. "Because I realized that the thing I feared most—vulnerability, need, the possibility of rejection—was nothing compared to the emptiness of letting you walk away without ever knowing how much I want you. How much I've always wanted you."

To your shock, Jungwon suddenly dropped to his knees before you, looking up with eyes that held none of his usual composure.

"I don't deserve another chance," he said, his voice raw with emotion. "I've been a coward, hiding behind duty and family expectations. But if you're willing—if there's any part of you that believes we could start again—I swear I will spend every day trying to be worthy of you."

You stood frozen, overwhelmed by his declaration, by the sight of Jungwon Yang—heir to an empire, always in perfect control—on his knees before you, walls finally shattered.

"I want to build a life with you," he continued, the words spilling out as if he couldn't contain them any longer. "A real life, not this performance we've been trapped in. I want mornings where we don't pretend to sleep through each other's routines. I want to hear about your day and tell you about mine. I want to take you to that cove in Greece where no one would expect Mrs. Yang to swim naked."

Your cheeks flamed at the reference to your private note in the travel book.

"I've read every word you've written in the margins," he confessed, his voice dropping lower. "I've memorized your poetry. The ones you circled, the ones you starred. Neruda's words—'I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees'—I understand them now. I feel them in my veins."

His eyes locked with yours, their intensity almost unbearable.

"I dream of you. Of being inside you. Of knowing nothing but the depth of your eyes when you look at me. Of drowning in your skin until my mind forgets every lesson in restraint I've ever learned." His voice shook slightly. "All those nights I lay beside you, rigid with control, while you wrote of desire in book margins—it was never indifference. It was fear. Fear of how completely I would surrender to you if I allowed myself a single touch."

You couldn't breathe, couldn't speak as he continued, years of suppressed desire breaking through the dam of his composure.

"I found where you wrote 'would he ever lose control enough?' The answer is yes. God, yes. Every moment of every day I've wanted to lose myself in you. To press you against walls, to taste every inch of your skin, to hear my name in your voice when I'm buried so deep inside you that we can't tell where I end and you begin."

He trembled visibly now, hands clenched at his sides to keep from reaching for you.

"I want children who know their father can feel, can love," he went on, his voice breaking. "I want to be the man you deserve—not the perfect Yang heir, but a husband who sees you, hears you, wants you exactly as you are."

Tears welled in your eyes, but you blinked them back. This was what you'd wanted—wasn't it? The real man beneath the perfect facade. But now that he was here, raw and vulnerable, you found yourself terrified of your own power to hurt him, to be hurt again.

"I don't know if I can trust this," you admitted softly. "What happens when your father calls? When your mother visits? When business demands return? Will you retreat back behind those walls you've built over a lifetime?"

Jungwon nodded, acknowledging the fairness of your question. "I already told my father I won't be controlled by his expectations anymore. I hung up on him—" He gave a small, disbelieving laugh. "I actually hung up on him when he tried to order me to bring you back for appearances' sake."

Your eyes widened. In the Yang family hierarchy, defying the patriarch was unthinkable.

"I can't promise I'll never struggle," Jungwon continued. "A lifetime of conditioning doesn't disappear in a week. But I can promise to try. To talk instead of withdraw. To let you see me—all of me, even the parts I was taught to hide." He swallowed hard. "And I can promise that no business meeting, no family obligation, nothing will ever be more important to me than you are."

The morning sunlight filtered through the garden trees, casting dappled light across his face, highlighting the exhaustion in his eyes, the vulnerability in his expression. In that moment, all the trappings of wealth and status fell away, leaving just a man asking a woman for another chance.

"I love you," he said quietly, the words clearly strange on his tongue. "I think I have from the beginning, but I didn't know how to show it, how to say it, how to let myself feel it without fear."

Your carefully constructed walls began to crumble. The honesty in his eyes, the tremor in his voice—this wasn't another performance. This was real in a way nothing between you had been before.

You took a deep breath, making a decision that would change everything.

"Stand up," you said softly.

Jungwon rose slowly, uncertainty in every line of his body. He stood before you, not touching, waiting.

"I need time," you said finally. "Not away from you—I think we've had enough distance. But time here, together, building something real. Day by day. No quick fixes, no grand gestures, just... honest effort."

Relief washed over his face. "Anything. Whatever you need."

You reached out slowly, your hand trembling slightly as you placed it against his cheek. The stubble was rough under your palm—a tangible sign of his unraveling, his transformation.

"We start again," you said. "As equals. As partners. As two people choosing each other every day, not just fulfilling an arrangement."

Jungwon covered your hand with his own, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yes," he agreed simply. "That's all I want. The chance to choose you, and to be chosen by you, every day."

You stood there in the garden surrounded by the evidence of his awakening—the books, the wildflowers, the breaking of perfect order that had defined your lives together. Nothing was resolved yet, not really. The real work of building a marriage would take time, patience, courage from both of you.

But as Jungwon's fingers tentatively interlaced with yours, you felt something you hadn't experienced in a very long time: hope.

Not the desperate hope that had led you to mark passages in poetry books, dreaming of connection. But a quieter, stronger hope built on the foundation of truth finally spoken, of walls finally breached.

A beginning, at last, after a year of beautiful emptiness.

-

The transformation didn't happen overnight. Real change never does. But it began with small, deliberate steps—each one a silent promise, a brick in the foundation of what you both hoped would become something genuine and lasting.

The first week was tentative, both of you navigating an unfamiliar landscape of honesty. You moved back into the master bedroom, but Jungwon slept on the chaise lounge across the room, respecting your need for physical space while closing the emotional distance. Each night, you talked—sometimes for hours—about everything and nothing. Your childhoods. Your dreams. The books that had shaped you. The places you longed to visit.

"I never knew you wanted to see Greece so badly," Jungwon said one evening, sitting cross-legged on the chaise, looking younger and more relaxed than you'd ever seen him. "We could go. Whenever you want."

"It's not just about going," you explained, hugging your knees to your chest as you sat against the headboard. "It's about going somewhere simply because we want to, not because it's expected or beneficial to the family business."

He nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes. "A trip just for us. No schedules, no business meetings disguised as vacations..."

"Exactly."

Two days later, you found a travel guide to the Greek islands on your pillow, with a note in Jungwon's precise handwriting: Pick the places that call to you. No expectations. No time limit. Just us.

-

The second week brought the first real test. Mrs. Yang arrived unannounced, sweeping into the foyer with the authority of someone who had never been denied entry.

"I've heard disturbing reports," she announced, eyeing the wildflower arrangements with thinly veiled distaste. "The garden completely rearranged. Appointments canceled. Your father says you're not taking his calls. And now this..." She gestured to the informality of the house, the books scattered on surfaces, the general disruption of the perfect order she'd helped establish.

In the past, Jungwon would have immediately adjusted his behavior to appease her. You braced yourself for his retreat back into the perfect son role.

Instead, he surprised you.

"Mother," he said calmly, "we're in the middle of some changes here. I should have called to tell you it's not a good time for a visit."

Her eyes widened. "Not a good time? Since when do I need an appointment to visit my own son's home?"

"Since now," Jungwon replied, his voice gentle but firm. "We're working on our marriage, and we need space to do that properly."

Mrs. Yang turned to you, expecting you to be the reasonable one, to smooth over this unprecedented friction. "Surely you understand that family obligations—"

"Are important," you finished for her, "but not more important than our relationship. Jungwon and I are learning to put each other first."

Her mouth opened and closed, momentarily speechless. "This is your influence," she finally said to you, her voice sharp. "My son has never been so disrespectful."

You felt Jungwon tense beside you, but before he could speak, you placed your hand on his arm. A silent communication—I've got this.

"It's not disrespect to establish healthy boundaries," you said, maintaining a respectful tone despite the accusation. "We both value you and Mr. Yang, but we're building something here that needs protection and care."

Mrs. Yang looked between the two of you, noting the united front, the way Jungwon stood slightly closer to you than necessary, the casual intimacy of your hand on his arm. Something in her calculation shifted.

"I see," she said finally. "Well. Call when you're ready to rejoin society. The foundation gala is in three weeks, and people will talk if you're absent."

"Let them talk," Jungwon said simply.

After she left, you turned to Jungwon, studying his face for signs of regret or anger. Instead, you found him looking almost relieved.

"That was the first time I've ever said no to her," he confessed with a shaky laugh. "It feels... terrifying. And right."

You squeezed his hand. "You were perfect."

"Not perfect," he corrected. "Real. There's a difference."

-

By the third week, physical barriers began to dissolve. Jungwon moved from the chaise to the bed, though always maintaining a careful distance. But one night, half-asleep and cold from the air conditioning, you instinctively shifted closer to his warmth. Without fully waking, he draped an arm over you, pulling you against him with a contented sigh.

You froze, suddenly wide awake, your heart racing at the casual intimacy. His breathing remained deep and even, clearly still asleep. Slowly, you relaxed into the embrace, allowing yourself to feel the solidity of him, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the warmth that radiated through his thin t-shirt.

It was the first time you'd slept in each other's arms. In the morning, when you both woke to find yourselves entangled, there was a moment of awkward uncertainty before Jungwon smiled—a genuine, unguarded smile that transformed his face.

"Good morning," he said softly, making no move to pull away.

"Good morning," you replied, marveling at how natural it felt to be here, in this moment, with him.

That day, the staff noticed the shift between you—the lingering glances, the casual touches as you passed each other, the private smiles. The mansion seemed to exhale, as if the building itself had been holding its breath, waiting for life to finally fill its rooms.

-

A month after your return, Jungwon came to you with a proposal.

"I've been thinking about the house," he said over breakfast, which you now took together every morning before he left for work. His schedule had been completely reorganized, with strict boundaries between work and home time. "It's beautiful, but it's never felt like ours. It's been my family's vision of what our home should be."

You nodded, understanding immediately. "It's always felt like living in a museum."

"Exactly." He pushed a folder across the table. "What would you think about this?"

Inside were architectural plans for a new house—smaller, more intimate, designed around shared spaces and natural light.

"You want to move?" you asked, surprised.

"I want us to build something that belongs to us," he clarified. "Something that reflects who we are together, not who everyone expects us to be."

You studied the plans more carefully, noting the library with two desks facing each other, the open kitchen designed for cooking together, the master bedroom with windows that would catch the sunrise.

"There's room for a nursery," you observed quietly, looking up to gauge his reaction.

His eyes softened. "I thought... someday... if we decided..." He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I want children with you. Not for the Yang legacy, but because I can't imagine anything more beautiful than creating a family with you. But only when we're ready. Only when our foundation is solid."

You reached across the table, taking his hand. "I'd like that. Someday."

He squeezed your fingers, a simple gesture that had become precious in its newfound ease. "So, the house?"

"Yes," you decided. "Let's build something that's truly ours."

-

Two months into your new beginning, you attended your first social event as a changed couple. The charity auction—ironically, the same type of event where you'd played your roles so convincingly before—now became the stage for your authentic selves.

When you entered on Jungwon's arm, the subtle changes were immediately apparent to the careful observers of high society. The way his hand rested at the small of your back—not for show, but because he liked the connection to you. How he kept you within his sight even during separate conversations. The private smiles you exchanged across the room, small moments of complicity in the public setting.

Mrs. Singh approached you during a lull in the evening. "There's something different about you two," she observed shrewdly. "You seem... happier."

You smiled, watching Jungwon across the room. He was engaged in conversation but looked up at that exact moment, as if sensing your gaze, and smiled back with undisguised affection.

"We are," you replied simply.

Later, when the dancing began, Jungwon led you to the floor. Unlike the choreographed movements you'd performed at countless events before, this time he held you closer, his cheek occasionally brushing against your temple, his hand warm and secure against yours.

"Everyone's watching us," you murmured, feeling the weight of curious eyes.

"Let them," he replied, his lips close to your ear. "Maybe they'll learn something."

The evening continued, but unlike before, you weren't simply playing a part. The genuine connection between you was unmistakable, and as the night progressed, you felt something shift in the atmosphere around you. The calculated social maneuvering gave way to something more genuine, as if your authenticity had granted others permission to drop their own facades, if only slightly.

When you returned home that night, the tension that had always accompanied these performances was absent. Instead, there was a shared sense of accomplishment, of having navigated the social waters together without losing yourselves in the process.

"That wasn't so bad," Jungwon admitted as you both prepared for bed. "Being real in public."

"It was actually nice," you agreed, sitting at your vanity to remove your jewelry. "Though I think your mother nearly fainted when you declined the board seat Mr. Lee offered."

Jungwon laughed, the sound still new enough to delight you. "The old me would have accepted immediately, even though we both know it would have meant even less time at home." He moved behind you, meeting your eyes in the mirror. "I have different priorities now."

He reached for the clasp of your necklace, his fingers brushing against your skin as he helped you remove it. The simple intimacy of the gesture—one that might have seemed ordinary in most marriages but was revolutionary in yours—made your breath catch.

When he finished, his hands remained on your shoulders, thumbs gently caressing the exposed skin above your dress. Your eyes met in the mirror, and the desire you saw there—no longer hidden or denied—sent heat cascading through you.

"May I kiss you?" he asked softly.

It wasn't your first kiss since the reconciliation—there had been gentle pecks, cautious explorations—but something about this moment felt different. More significant.

You turned to face him, rising from the vanity bench. "Yes."

He cupped your face with reverent hands, studying you as if committing every detail to memory, before leaning in slowly. The kiss began gentle but deepened as months of carefully banked desire kindled between you. His arms encircled your waist, drawing you closer until you could feel the rapid beating of his heart against yours.

When you finally separated, both breathless, Jungwon rested his forehead against yours. "I love you," he whispered, the words no longer strange or difficult but natural, necessary.

"I love you too," you replied, the truth of it filling every part of you.

That night, for the first time, you truly became husband and wife—not through social obligation or family expectation, but through choice. Through desire. Through love that had fought its way past barriers of conditioning and fear to find expression at last.

-

Six months after your confrontation, the new house was completed. It stood on a hillside overlooking the city, modern in design but warm in execution, with natural materials and spaces designed for living rather than showcasing wealth.

The move was symbolic in more ways than one—leaving behind the mansion with its rigid expectations and cold perfection, stepping into a home created specifically for the life you were building together.

On your first night there, after the movers had gone and the essentials were unpacked, Jungwon opened a bottle of champagne, pouring two glasses as you both stood in the expansive living room, floor-to-ceiling windows revealing the city lights spread below.

"To new beginnings," he said, raising his glass.

"To us," you added, clinking your glass against his.

After you both drank, he set his glass aside and reached for your hand, his expression turning serious.

"I want to ask you something," he said, leading you to the sofa. When you were both seated, he took both your hands in his. "This past year—these six months especially—have been the most transformative of my life. I feel like I'm finally becoming the person I was meant to be, not the perfect heir my father designed."

You squeezed his hands encouragingly. "I'm proud of you. The changes you've made, the boundaries you've set—none of it has been easy."

"It's been worth it," he said simply. "And I want to keep growing, keep becoming better. With you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. "Which is why I want to ask you to marry me. Again. For real this time."

He opened the box to reveal a ring nothing like the elaborate diamond he'd given you during your engagement. This one was simpler, more personal—a band of intertwined gold and platinum with a small sapphire that matched the color of your favorite flowers.

"Our first marriage was arranged for us," he continued. "I want this one to be chosen by us. No families planning, no strategic alliances, just two people who love each other deciding to build a life together."

Tears filled your eyes, but unlike the lonely tears you'd shed in that first year, these were born of joy, of wonder at how far you'd both come.

"Yes," you whispered, watching as he slipped the ring onto your finger, alongside the formal engagement diamond you still wore. The contrast between them—one chosen for appearance, one chosen for meaning—perfectly symbolized your journey.

"I thought we could have a small ceremony," Jungwon said, pulling you close. "Just us and a few people who truly care about our happiness. On that Greek island you've been reading about."

You laughed through your tears. "Your mother would never forgive us."

"She'll survive," he said with a smile. "This isn't about the Yang family or social connections or business advantages. It's about you and me, choosing each other. Every day. For the rest of our lives."

As you kissed to seal this new promise, you marveled at the journey that had brought you here—from empty performance to authentic partnership, from silent longing to expressed love, from arranged marriage to chosen commitment.

The road hadn't been smooth. There had been setbacks, moments when old patterns threatened to reassert themselves. There would be more challenges ahead, more work to maintain the vulnerability and honesty you'd fought so hard to establish.

But looking into Jungwon's eyes—eyes that now held nothing back from you—you knew with absolute certainty that the difficult path was worth it. That true connection, once found, was worth fighting for. That love, real love, could grow even from the most barren beginnings, if only given the chance to breathe.

-

The most shocking transformation in your renewed marriage wasn’t the tenderness.

It was the hunger.

Jungwon, who used to sleep with a polite space between your bodies, now touched you like he couldn’t bear even a millimeter of distance.

The man who once bowed his head before kissing your hand now dropped to his knees and begged to taste you.

It was as if years of restraint had finally snapped—like some tight, internal knot had come undone—and he was feral from the release.

The first night you truly became intimate, you realized just how much he’d been suppressing.

His hands, once always tucked in his lap, now gripped your thighs like a lifeline, dragged you down onto the sheets with a growl. He shook when he touched you, but not from nerves—from sheer fucking relief.

His mouth, which had always only spoken in formal tones and quiet dinner conversation, now whispered against your skin—

“I’ve dreamed of spreading your legs and living between them.”

You gasped. He kissed lower. His breath hot between your thighs.

“Every night beside you, pretending I didn’t hear how you breathed heavier when I got too close. I wanted to fuck you so bad I used to take cold showers just to stop myself from humping the fucking mattress.”

You were already soaked, trembling.

You cupped his face, forced him to look up. “You don’t have to hold back anymore.”

His pupils were blown wide. He licked his lips, nodding.

“I don’t think I could if I tried.”

He broke.

He devoured your pussy like it owed him rent. Like it was his first and last meal.

No teasing. No patience. Just his tongue, buried deep, moaning into you like your taste was the only thing that ever made him lose his composure.

You came once on his mouth—fast and loud—and he didn’t even let up.

“Again,” he groaned, “fuck, again, I want to feel you fall apart.”

And when he finally hovered over you, flushed and trembling and naked between your legs?

“Tell me,” he whispered, cock dragging through your soaked folds, “tell me what you want. What you’ve been aching for. Let me ruin you the way I’ve dreamed about.”

So you did.

You told him all of it. The fantasies. The positions. The filthy little things you’d only ever written down in notebook margins when he was still cold and distant.

And Jungwon?

Did. Not. Flinch.

He nodded, breath shaking, and said—

“You want to be face down? Crying? Begging? I’ll give it to you. Just know when I start, I won’t stop until you’re fucked stupid.”

And he meant it.

He took you face down on the mattress, hips locked in place by his grip, his cock slamming into you so deep you saw stars. He growled things you’d never imagined him saying—

“This pussy’s mine. All fucking mine. You think I don’t know how wet you get when I talk like this?”

“Look at you—slutty little wife, dripping down your thighs like you’ve been waiting to be treated like a whore.”

“How many times you make yourself cum thinking about me breaking like this, huh?”

You choked on your moans. You were sobbing by the time he made you cum again, legs shaking, jaw slack, vision blurry.

He kissed your spine afterward. Slowly. Tenderly. Like he hadn’t just rearranged your insides.

Pulled you into his arms and whispered, “I used to leave the room when I got too hard just looking at you. I thought wanting you like this made me weak. My father always said a Yang man should control his urges.”

He paused. Smiled against your neck.

“I’ve never been so happy to disappoint him.”

-

In the weeks that followed your first night together, the shift between you became impossible to ignore. And impossible to contain.

Jungwon couldn’t stop touching you.

He didn’t even try. His hand found yours under the breakfast table.

His palm slid across your lower back when you walked past him in the hallway—lingering there, possessive.

He stole kisses while you were brushing your teeth, while you answered the door, while you loaded the washing machine.

It was as if his body was always reaching, always chasing, making up for a year of self-denial all at once.

You gave in to him every time.

One afternoon, he came home early from the office to find you kneeling in the garden, soil smudged on your knees, digging holes for the last peony bush you’d saved from the mansion.

You didn’t hear him approach.

But you felt it—the change in the air. The heat behind you. The sound of breath catching.

Hands on your waist. A sharp inhale. And a low, devastating voice.

“That’s what I come home to?”

You turned your head, startled—and then flushed under the weight of his gaze.

He was already unbuttoning his sleeves.

Already breathing too hard.

“Jungwon—”

He hauled you to your feet. Didn’t flinch at the dirt. Didn’t care about the sunlight.

Just gripped your waist, pulled you close, and kissed you like you’d been killing him in his dreams. You gasped against his mouth, hands braced on his chest, heart pounding.

“What was that for?”

His eyes were black with need. He didn’t let you go.

“Because I can,” he said. “Because I spent a year not touching you. Not letting myself want you. Not letting myself want to bend you over every surface in our house.”

You trembled.

He pulled you closer.

“I refuse to waste another fucking day.”

The peonies were forgotten.

He dragged you inside, dirt on your hands, sweat beading on your spine—and kissed you again against the door.

His jacket hit the floor first. Then yours.

Then his belt, as he backed you into the living room like a man possessed.

When your knees hit the rug, he dropped with you.

Didn’t even bother removing your clothes properly—just shoved your dress up and pulled your underwear down like it offended him.

“Here,” he growled, palming your ass as he pressed you forward onto all fours. “Here on the floor, where I can see every inch of you. Where I can fuck you raw and you can scream for me.”

You moaned, breath hitched.

“God, I wanted to do this the first night I married you. I wanted to wreck you. I wanted to see what sounds you’d make with my cock in you.”

You were dripping by the time he pushed inside.

No teasing. No patience. Just one smooth thrust that made you cry out, already clenching.

“So fucking tight,” he hissed. “So wet and hot and mine.”

He fucked you hard, fast, hips slapping against your ass as your moans echoed through the empty house.

You didn’t care. You let him take everything.

He gripped your hips, pulled you back onto him harder, chasing your high like he’d been dying for it. You came shaking on him, and he groaned, low and broken, before following with a curse buried into your shoulder.

You collapsed to the rug in a tangled heap, both of you breathless, glowing in the afternoon sun. Later, still half-naked, your cheek resting on the rug, he lay beside you—head on your stomach, smiling like a teenager.

“My father would be appalled,” he murmured. “The Yang heir behaving like this. Desperate. Loud. Fucking his wife on the floor.”

You laughed, running your fingers through his sweat-damp hair.

“And what do you think?”

He tilted his head. Kissed your bare hip, then lower.

Then smiled.

“I think we should do it again in the kitchen.”

A pause.

“Then the stairs. Then the study. Then maybe the floor again.”

You didn’t even get a chance to answer. Because his hand was already sliding between your legs again.

-

What amazed you most was his attentiveness. Jungwon, who had once seemed completely disconnected from physical needs, now anticipated yours with an almost uncanny perception. He noticed when tension gathered in your shoulders and appeared with warm hands to massage it away. He registered which touches made your breath catch and revisited them with deliberate intent. He cataloged every sensitive spot, every preference, every response with the same meticulous attention he'd once reserved for business reports.

"How did you know?" you asked one evening when he drew you a bath exactly when you needed it, complete with the lavender oil you preferred when tired.

"Your left eyebrow tenses slightly when you're exhausted," he explained, kneeling beside the tub to wash your back with gentle hands. "And you roll your shoulders every few minutes. Plus, you've been on your feet all day with the interior decorator."

The fact that he noticed such small details—that he paid such close attention to your physical comfort—moved you deeply. This wasn't just passion; it was care, consideration, genuine desire for your wellbeing.

One night, as you lay tangled together in the afterglow of particularly intense lovemaking, Jungwon traced patterns on your back with his fingertips, his expression thoughtful.

"I used to think that needing someone physically was a weakness," he confessed. "That it gave them power over you. My father warned me about it—how desire could cloud judgment, make a man vulnerable."

"And now?" you prompted, propping yourself up to look at him.

A slow smile spread across his face, transforming his features in a way that still took your breath away. "Now I think vulnerability is its own kind of strength. The courage to need someone, to show them exactly how much you want them..." He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I've never felt stronger than when I'm completely undone in your arms."

-

The physical transformation in your marriage rippled outward, affecting every aspect of your lives together. Jungwon, once rigid in his schedules and plans, now embraced spontaneity. He would cancel meetings to spend the day in bed with you, laughing as you expressed shock at his newfound willingness to prioritize pleasure over work.

"The company won't collapse if I take a day off," he said, pulling you back under the covers when you suggested he shouldn't neglect his responsibilities. "And this—" he kissed you deeply "—is a responsibility too. To us. To what we're building."

Even in public, the change was evident to anyone with eyes to see. Though still mindful of appropriate boundaries, Jungwon couldn't seem to stop himself from small touches—his hand at the small of your back, his fingers laced with yours, the way he would occasionally lean down to whisper something in your ear that made heat rise to your cheeks.

At a corporate gala, Mrs. Yang cornered you by the refreshment table, her eyes narrowed in disapproval. "Your husband's behavior has become rather... demonstrative lately," she observed acidly. "It's unseemly for a man of his position to be so openly affectionate."

You smiled, watching Jungwon across the room as he spoke with investors. Even engaged in business conversation, his eyes sought you out regularly, as if making sure you were still there, still his.

"I disagree," you replied calmly. "I think it shows remarkable strength for a man to be secure enough in himself to express his feelings openly."

Your mother-in-law's lips thinned, but before she could respond, Jungwon appeared at your side, his hand automatically finding yours.

"Mother," he greeted her with polite warmth. "I see you've found my wife. I hope you'll excuse us—this is our song."

There was no song playing that held any special meaning, but Mrs. Yang couldn't know that. With a small bow, Jungwon led you to the dance floor, pulling you closer than was strictly proper for such a formal event.

"Rescued you," he murmured against your ear, his breath sending delicious shivers down your spine.

"My hero," you teased, relaxing into his embrace. "Though your mother might never recover from the shock of seeing the Yang heir so besotted with his own wife."

"Let her adjust," he replied, his hand splayed possessively against your lower back. "This is who I am now. Who we are together."

Later that night, he touched you like he’d been holding it in all day—like the hours of careful, public restraint had coiled inside him, pressing tight under his skin, begging for release.

Now, with you spread beneath him in your shared bed, every breath he took seemed heavy with need.

His thrusts were deep, deliberate, dragging moans from your throat with each slow roll of his hips.

He didn’t rush. He didn’t look away. He studied you.

His dark eyes locked onto yours, watching every flicker of expression, every twitch, every gasp, like he wanted to memorize the exact second you shattered.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, voice low, tight, lips brushing the corner of your mouth.

You blinked up at him, dazed, overwhelmed. “That I hardly recognize you sometimes.”

His rhythm stuttered—hips faltering, jaw tensing.

His brows drew together. “Is that… disappointing?”

You couldn’t help the breathless laugh that escaped you. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist and pulled him closer, arching up to meet him.

“No. Quite the opposite.”

Your fingers slid into his hair, your voice thick with wonder and arousal.

“I’m amazed that all of this—”

Your hands trailed down his chest, to where your bodies met, to the heat and slick and stretch between your legs,

“—was hidden inside that perfect, restrained man.”

Relief washed over his face, followed by a crooked, mischievous smile—so at odds with the version of him you’d once known that it sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through you.

“I have years of self-control to make up for,” he said, lowering his mouth to your throat, his voice a warm rasp against your skin. “You don’t think I’ve imagined this? Every night. Every day. Watching you walk around like you didn’t know how badly I wanted to fuck you into the mattress?”

You whimpered, breath catching.

“You think I didn’t notice how soft your thighs looked in those dresses? Or how your voice changed when you said my name?”

His tongue flicked over a sensitive spot just below your ear, and your back arched without thinking.

“I used to jerk off in the shower,” he whispered, filthy now, “biting my lip so you wouldn’t hear. Palming my cock like a coward while I imagined you moaning for me just like this.”

You gasped as he pinned your wrists above your head, not rough, just firm—controlling, possessive. His other hand slid between your bodies, fingers circling your clit with devastating precision.

“You’re mine now,” he said against your collarbone. “I don’t have to hide it anymore. Don’t have to pretend I don’t want you crying and shaking under me every night.”

The need in his voice made your toes curl.

“I don’t think anyone could be prepared for this version of you,” you managed to gasp, hips bucking as his thumb pressed harder.

He chuckled darkly. “Good. I like catching you off guard.”

Then his lips ghosted over your pulse, and he murmured:

“I like knowing no one else gets to see you like this. Just me. The mess. The begging. The way you moan when I hit you right there.”

His hips snapped, and your whole body trembled.

“I like owning this version of you. The version that melts under me. That asks for more even when I’m already inside.”

The sheer possessiveness in his voice—raw and reverent—nearly undid you.

Your whole body clenched, eyes wide, breath gone. “Only you,” you whispered, completely wrecked. “Always you.”

He kissed you then. Deep. Unrelenting.

And when you came again, shaking apart in his arms, you knew:

You’d never seen the real Jungwon before this.

Afterward, as you drifted toward sleep in his arms, you reflected on the journey that had brought you here. From polite strangers sharing a bed without touching, to lovers who couldn't bear even the smallest distance between them. From a marriage of appearance to a union of body, heart, and soul.

Jungwon's arm tightened around you, even in his sleep unwilling to let you go. The man who had once feared needing someone now embraced that need without reservation, transforming what he'd been taught was weakness into his greatest strength.

As you snuggled closer to his warmth, you silently thanked whatever courage had prompted you to finally break the silence between you, to demand more than the empty performance your marriage had been. The risk had been terrifying, but the reward—this man who loved you without restraint, who showed that love in every look and touch and whispered word—was beyond anything you could have imagined.

Epilogue: Aegean Dreams

The light breeze carried the scent of salt and wild herbs through the open French doors of your villa, perched on the cliffs of Santorini. Dawn had just begun to paint the horizon in shades of gold and rose, the Aegean Sea below reflecting the spectacle like a mirror. You stood on the private terrace, wrapped in a silk robe, drinking in the view that had once been nothing more than a wistful note in a travel book margin.

Warm arms encircled you from behind, and Jungwon's lips found the curve where your neck met your shoulder.

"I woke up and you were gone," he murmured against your skin. "For a second, I panicked."

You turned in his embrace, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face. No product kept it in place here—just like no tailored suits or carefully crafted personas had made the journey to this small Greek paradise.

"Just wanted to see the sunrise," you explained, smiling at the vulnerability he no longer tried to hide. "Old habits. Though I'm not used to you noticing when I slip out of bed."

"I notice everything about you now," he said, tightening his hold. "Especially when your warmth disappears from beside me."

Two years had passed since that fateful anniversary night when everything had broken open between you. Two years of learning each other, rebuilding trust, discovering what it meant to truly choose one another every day. The small, intimate wedding you'd held on this very island six months ago had merely formalized what your hearts had already decided.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Jungwon asked, noticing your contemplative expression.

"I was just thinking about that travel book," you said, leaning into him. "The one where I marked all those Greek islands, never believing I'd actually see them."

"And now you've seen five of them in three weeks," he replied with a smile. "With three more to go before we have to think about heading back."

The itinerary for this trip had been deliberately open-ended—a luxury neither of you had ever permitted yourselves before. No business calls, no social obligations, not even a fixed return date. Just the two of you moving at your own pace through the islands you'd dreamed of.

"Remember that cove I mentioned in my notes?" you asked, a mischievous glint in your eye. "The one where 'no one would expect Mrs. Yang to swim naked'?"

"How could I forget?" Jungwon's voice dropped lower, his hands sliding down to your waist. "It's circled on the map in our bedroom. I've been wondering when you'd bring it up."

"The boat captain said he could take us there this afternoon. Completely private, accessible only by sea."

His eyes darkened with desire—a look that still thrilled you, even after months of uninhibited passion. "I'll tell him we'll double his fee if he drops us off and doesn't return until sunset."

You laughed, stretching up to kiss him. "Always the efficient businessman."

"Only when efficiency serves pleasure," he countered, deepening the kiss until you were both breathless.

When you finally pulled apart, the sun had fully crested the horizon, bathing the white-washed villa in golden light. Jungwon led you to the small table on the terrace where he'd already set up breakfast—fresh fruit, local yogurt, honey, and coffee prepared exactly the way you liked it.

"I have something for you," he said, reaching into the pocket of his linen pants as you both sat down.

He placed a small package wrapped in simple brown paper on the table between you. His expression held an endearing mix of anticipation and nervousness that reminded you how far he'd come from the controlled, emotionless man you'd married.

"What's this for?" you asked, picking up the package. "It's not my birthday or our anniversary."

"Do I need a reason to give my wife a gift?" he countered with a smile. "Open it."

You carefully unwrapped the paper to find a leather-bound journal, its cover soft and supple. When you opened it, you discovered it was filled with poems—some typed, others handwritten in Jungwon's precise script.

"I've been collecting them," he explained, watching your face closely. "Every poem that made me think of you. The ones that helped me understand what I was feeling when I didn't have the words myself."

You turned the pages, eyes widening as you recognized some of the poems you'd once secretly marked in your books, now preserved in this new collection. But there were others you didn't recognize—contemporary pieces, older classics, even what appeared to be original works.

"Did you... write some of these?" you asked, looking up in surprise.

A flush crept up his neck—the unguarded reaction still so different from the controlled man he'd once been. "I tried. They're probably terrible, but..." He shrugged, a gesture of vulnerability that would have been unthinkable in the old Jungwon. "I wanted to find a way to tell you what you mean to me that wasn't borrowed from someone else's words."

You found one of his original poems, dated from the early days of your reconciliation:

I lived behind walls so high

Even I forgot what lay inside

Until your voice broke through

And light flooded places

I had kept dark for so long

I had forgotten they could shine

Tears pricked your eyes as you continued reading. The progression of the poems—from hesitant early attempts to more recent, confident expressions—mirrored the journey of your relationship.

"This is the most beautiful gift anyone has ever given me," you said finally, closing the journal and holding it against your heart.

"There's one more thing," Jungwon said, reaching across the table to take your hand. "I've been thinking about what you said last week, about not being ready to go back to real life yet."

"I was just being silly," you assured him, though the thought of returning to schedules and obligations did fill you with a certain dread. "We can't stay on vacation forever."

"Why not?" He smiled at your startled expression. "Not forever, but... longer. I've been working on something." He pulled out his phone—rarely used during the trip except for taking photos—and showed you a property listing. "It's a small villa on Paros. Nothing extravagant, but it has a garden for you and a study for me with a decent internet connection."

"You want to buy a house here?" you asked, stunned.

"I want us to have a place that's just ours. Not tied to the Yang name or business or social expectations." His eyes held yours, serious despite his smile. "A place where we can come whenever we need to breathe. Where no one expects anything from us except being ourselves."

"But your work—"

"Can be managed remotely for extended periods," he interrupted gently. "I've been talking with the board about restructuring my role. Less day-to-day management, more strategic direction. It would mean fewer hours, more flexibility."

You stared at him, processing the magnitude of what he was suggesting. The old Jungwon would never have considered stepping back from his corporate responsibilities, would never have prioritized personal happiness over professional ambition.

"What about your father?" you asked, knowing that Mr. Yang would view such a move as a betrayal of family duty.

"He'll adapt," Jungwon said with surprising calm. "Or he won't. Either way, I'm not living my life to meet his expectations anymore." He squeezed your hand. "What do you think? Not about him—about the villa."

You looked out at the endless blue of the Aegean, then back at the man who had transformed himself for love of you—who continued to transform, to grow, to choose your shared happiness over prescribed obligation.

"I think," you said slowly, a smile spreading across your face, "that I'd like to plant bougainvillea along that terrace wall in the photos."

His answering smile was radiant. "Is that a yes?"

Instead of answering with words, you stood and moved around the table, settling onto his lap. His arms came around you automatically, holding you as if you were the most precious thing in his world—which, you knew now, you were.

"It's a 'you make me happier than I ever thought possible,'" you said, framing his face with your hands. "It's a 'I love the life we're building together.'"

"Even if it scandalizes my mother?" he asked, laughter in his eyes.

"Especially then," you replied, leaning in to kiss him as the Greek sun climbed higher in the sky, warming your skin, illuminating the future stretching before you—unplanned, unprescribed, and gloriously your own.

Behind you, the pages of the poetry journal fluttered in the sea breeze, open to the last entry, written in Jungwon's hand just days before:

Once I thought perfection meant control

Now I know it's the moment you laugh

Head thrown back, eyes dancing

Completely unguarded in my arms

The sound of your happiness echoing

Through rooms once filled with silence

This is the music I want to hear

For all my remaining days

fin.

-

TL: @addictedtohobi @azzy02 @ziiao @beariegyu @seonhoon @zzhengyu @somuchdard @annybah @ddolleri @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway-143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @cristy-101 @bloomiize @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586 @cybe4ss @starniras @wonuziex @sol3chu @simj4k3 @jakewonist

[nausallien]

THE SIMS 3 STORE PRE-INSTALLED

Today marks 25 years of The Sims. Since EA forgot TS3 exists, I’m releasing the entire The Sims 3 Store as an Anniversary Gift. It's all pre-installed and works flawlessly!

It comes with all available fixes and collection folders I’ve personally created for every set. You'll get over 5000 new Buy/Build and CAS items, 11 new worlds, and tons of new gameplay!

INSTRUCTIONS

Go to "Documents/Electronic Arts" and rename the "The Sims 3" folder (or move it).

Create a new folder and name it "The Sims 3" (or whatever the name is in your language).

Extract the contents of the ZIP file in "The Sims 3." Now launch the game.

You'll have to adjust your setting again. Don't forget to disable the in-game Store so you don't get duplicates.

Quit the game. Copy the "Saves" folder from the folder you have previously renamed. You can also copy your Mods and CC in package format.

CAUTION

Never copy over or overwrite the DCCache folder.

If you have content installed through the Launcher (Sims3Pack), you'll have to reinstall it.

I strongly recommend you don't install things through the Launcher from now. It already has a lot of content and it is a known fact the Launcher becomes more and more unstable the more content it has to handle.

Since the entire Store has been decrapified, if you want to install lots or world that contain Store content, you'll have to decrapify those too using MATY's TS3 Recompressor.

I had a report that there was an invisible top in CAS. It doesn't seem to have a CASP resource so it shouldn't cause any issues (like being assigned to a random Sim). It's best to avoid it or hide it or blacklist it using NRaas mods. Do NOT try to save the game while your Sim is "wearing" this invisible top.

UPDATE #1: MARCH 2025

Added some missing content: the Mother Russia CAS Set and the Cool Chap Cap that was given as a secret bonus item in the "Make Me an Offer" page. If there's something else missing, please let me now.

Now NRaas MasterController and the Cheats and Integration modules are included in the pack. This version NRaas MC comes with CAS Compact Mode enabled by default. This should fix the issue of blank/invisible CAS items and also speed up the loading of CAS items. Keep in mind, these mods aren't compatible with Lazy Duchess' Smooth Path, but you can have both. Her mod will automatically disable the fast loading of CAS items.

If you encounter any issues, feel free to reach out to me. I've put a lot of effort into making the installation process as smooth and straightforward as possible. Dag Dag!

DOWNLOAD FROM GOOGLE DRIVE

[eddiazx]

homecoming - eddie diaz x reader

Eddie hears her before he sees her.

An adorable voice that comes from several feet away. A voice belonging to a child, a child that was roughly 7 or 8 years old, probably the same age as Christopher. 

Eddie had been with the 118 for three months by now. He truly loves the job; it was rewarding and he loved being in service of people. Among their calls though, there were quite a handful of cats getting stuck in trees. Which was why they were currently at a park, Eddie resting a foot behind him against the fire engine, while he watches Buck climb up a ladder to extract the cat. Chim was popping his gum, explaining a new sci-fi flick that just came out to Hen, who to her credit, was doing a great job acting like she cared. 

“Are you a firefighter?” The voice had asked. Eddie looks down at the little girl, a girl who looked so very familiar with her hair in two braids and brown doe eyes. 

Eddie smiles automatically, and crouches down to be at the same height as the girl. “What gave it away?” He jokes, and he’s met with the sweetest giggle that he swears could cure diseases. 

“My mommy said that firefighters are unsung heroes. We actually had one come to the coffee shop that my mommy owns. It’s named after me! I don’t drink coffee though, I’m still too little. I do love the honey banana bread she makes though! That's why my mom calls me bee."

Eddie listens with patience, a soft smile on his face at the little girl’s rambling. Chris does the same thing - gets very enthusiastic and starts over-explaining with run-on sentences. It’s the most endearing quality ever, in Eddie’s opinion. 

“Yeah? Do you know where your mommy is now?” Eddie asks.

“Bee, what did we say about you running off without telling me?” A voice asks. Eddie’s eyes follow the voice and is met with an assault on all his senses, including a very clear pang in his chest. 

You look even better than you had nine years ago, which Eddie didn’t even think could be possible, since he already thought you were gorgeous when the two of you had dated at 18 years old. 

Your face drops when you realize who your daughter was talking to. The boy, or rather the man, who had broken your heart all those years ago. The one who your daughter shared DNA with. The one who didn’t even know he had another child, because you had left Texas for L.A. the second the strip turned pink. 

You recover quickly, putting your hands on your daughter’s shoulders. “Hey bee, Milo was asking if you wanted to play go-fish. Can you head over there? Mommy will be just a minute.” 

“Okay!” She tells you with a beaming grin. She then turns to Eddie, and says, “I liked talking to you firefighter man! You should come to my mommy’s shop sometime!” With that, she runs over to where your friends and family were. 

You internally curse the fact that your daughter was such a social butterfly, before finally meeting Eddie’s eyes. He looks like he was struck by lightning; eyes wide and mouth gaping. He was reeling, and you couldn’t really blame the guy. 

“She’s mine.” He says, eventually. It isn’t a question, rather, a simple statement, but you nod anyway. The familiarity that he had seen in the child makes so much sense now, down to the quirk of her smile that you have - but he could also see features of himself in her. The pang in Eddie’s chest was now reduced to a chronic, dull ache at all the years and memories he wasn’t there for. Again.

“I know it’s a lot to ask”, he starts, voice rough but surprisingly steady for someone who just received world-altering news, “but I think Christopher - my son, and I would love to get to know her more. I feel like they’d get along great. Could we all get to know each other?” The words feel wrong a bit, because there was a time where Eddie and you had known each other inside and out. Likes, dislikes, dreams, fears, and life goals - you had practically been an Eddie Diaz encyclopedia.

You’re pensive as you consider his request. You knew this day would come, where you would have to have this conversation with the father of your child. It doesn’t stop the fear gripping your insides, the fear that he would get close to the two of you, and then proceed to leave. It was a fear that was supremely unfair to Eddie, because he didn’t know when he chose to marry Shannon that you had been in the same predicament. And you didn’t know that hours before he was due at the altar, he had stood in front of your then empty house, desperately hoping you would tell him not to marry Shannon.

So with a rapidly beating heart, you smile softly. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s get to know each other.” 

[vague-humanoid]

Two Harvard students recently revealed that it's possible to combine Meta smart glasses with face image search technology to "reveal anyone's personal details," including their name, address, and phone number, "just from looking at them."

In a Google document, AnhPhu Nguyen and Caine Ardayfio explained how they linked a pair of Meta Ray Bans 2 to an invasive face search engine called PimEyes to help identify strangers by cross-searching their information on various people-search databases. They then used a large language model (LLM) to rapidly combine all that data, making it possible to dox someone in a glance or surface information to scam someone in seconds—or other nefarious uses, such as "some dude could just find some girl’s home address on the train and just follow them home,” Nguyen told 404 Media.

This is all possible thanks to recent progress with LLMs, the students said.

"This synergy between LLMs and reverse face search allows for fully automatic and comprehensive data extraction that was previously not possible with traditional methods alone," their Google document said.

Where previously someone could spend substantial time conducting their own search of public databases to find information based on someone's image alone, their dystopian smart glasses do that job in a few seconds, their demo video said.

The co-creators said that they altered a pair of Meta Ray Bans 2 to create I-XRAY to raise awareness of "significant privacy concerns" online as technology rapidly advances.

[yourlocallgothamite]

The Demon Spawn Surveillance Strategy (The DSSS)

Chapter 4: The One In Which Dick Has Game, Jason Has Sticky Notes, and Tim Has Pigeon Drones (...And Smoke Detector Ones)

⸻

A.N: this was going to be wayyy longer and it was but then I realized it was getting too long and I wouldn't be able to finish it by tonight and I already told some of you that it would be finished so here is a short chapter and stay tuned for the next one because I decided that each day of the operation DSSS would have a chapter so expect at least 10 more chapters (7 days + 1 chapter for mission debrief and 1 chapter for the reveal and Damian's reaction... then maybe a chapter for a Wayne family dinner). Sorry for the delay this message is probably annoying but its okay. Thak you for readingg.

⸻

previous chapter - next chapter

⸻

"Alright, gentlemen,” Dick Grayson said with the seriousness of a man about to deliver a rousing war speech… while holding a hot pink highlighter. “It’s 7:30 AM, only half an hour left before the official evidence hunt begins.”

"The official evidence hunt begins, and our dignity takes a permanent vacation." Interrupted Jason, already peeling a fresh sticky note from his collection like it was ammunition.

Tim nodded solemnly, frowning in thought. "Right." He took a moment to think and go over his strategies, finally sighing before asking, "So… we agree that blackmailing Jon Kent for intel is still on the table?"

“No,” Dick said automatically.

“Yes,” Jason said at the exact same time.

Tim shrugged. “It’s not blackmail if the information is extracted through gentle manipulation and the occasional guilt trip.”

Dick narrowed his eyes. “Tim, your version of ‘gentle’ is threatening to leak the video of him crying over a dying dog in a rom-com.”

Jason raised his hand. “I support that.”

Tim snickered, already pulling up a file he had on his computer named "JONATHAN_KENT_BLACKMAIL_MATERIAL.zip."

“We’re not threatening children,” Dick sighed, rubbing his temples.

Tim closed the file.

“Today is about evidence." Dick continued, " Real evidence. Hard facts. Field work. And maybe light trespassing.”

Jason looked offended. “Light? I brought full infiltration gear.”

“And I,” Tim said proudly, holding up a handful of neatly labeled evidence bags, “brought Exhibit tags, a portable scanner, and a fingerprint kit.”

Dick looked down at his hot pink highlighter and shrugged. “I brought... enthusiasm.”

“God help us all,” Jason muttered.

Dick pointed the highlighter like a sword. “Disrespect me again and I’ll assign you to witness statement duty at the cheer practice.”

Jason immediately stood up straighter, saluting. “Sir. No further jokes, sir.”

Tim checked his watch. “7:39. We need to move soon if we want to beat the morning rush. She has gymnastics at 10, and if we don’t move fast, we miss our chance.”

Dick pointed to the door. “Alright. Separate routes. Separate whiteboards-"

"Where are you finding all these whiteboards?" Jason interrupted. "I could swear I didn't have that many in this safehouse."

"I ordered new ones yesterday, anyways, not the point," shrugged Dick, shifting the focus back to the important topic at hand "We meet again one week from today. 8 PM sharp. With whatever we can gather. May the best agent win.”

Jason cracked his knuckles. “I’m going to find something that’ll ruin Damian’s whole month.”

Tim zipped up his backpack, already typing. “What I’m going to find is none of your business. Can't go around giving the enemies ideas.”

Dick grabbed his keys. “I’m going to flirt with a barista until they give me her coffee order history.”

Jason groaned. “I hate that your stupid plans actually work.”

Tim just shook his head. “Godspeed, disaster men.”

They all paused, staring at each other for a few seconds.

Dick uttered out a laugh. “Wow. We really are the most mature group of grown men in Gotham.”

“We are emotionally compromised and unmedicated,” Jason agreed.

“Speak for yourself,” Tim muttered. “I’ve had a multivitamin and two hours of sleep. I’m thriving.”

“You’re pale and twitching,” Jason pointed out.

“That’s the caffeine,” Tim said.

Another pause. Then they all took off, with intent to each go a different route... but the building that held Jason's safehouse only had one elevator...

"This is awkward."

46 seconds of silence and batglares later, the elvator pinged, signalling its doors opening.

And with that, three grown men scattered into the streets of Gotham… In search of a seventeen-year-old girl. Armed with a highlighter, sticky notes, hacking skills, and absolutely no shame.

⸻

DAY ONE: AGENT: A-01 CALLSIGN: Nightwing OBJECTIVE: Gather Evidence on Suspect Y/N L/N TIMESTAMP: 07:50 HOURS LOCATION: Gotham City

Dick ran a hand through his hair and pulled up the mission folder on his tablet. The plan was simple—play it like a charming social engineer. Y/N had her usual haunts and Dick had compiled a list based on her social media posts: the local coffee shop, the library, the gym, maybe the quirky art supply store downtown. Places where the staff knew her name, her order, her schedule. His job? Befriend the workers, coax out details, and maybe get a few slip-ups about Damian or anything else hidden beneath that pristine surface.

“Flirting,” he muttered with a smirk, “isn’t just a weapon—it’s an art form. And luckily, it’s one I’ve perfected.” He imagined himself leaning on the counter, casual but confident, engaging the barista in small talk, fishing for coffee preferences that might lead to more.

He tapped a sticky note onto his tablet screen: Get coffee order history. Build rapport. Ask about rare sightings.

A few more notes:

Chat up gym front desk. Observe her routine. Visit art supply store—gather intel on recent purchases. Go to GA. Visit front desk and chat up secretaries. Go ro GA library for clues. If needed, fake a coffee addiction. Offer to perform flips and handstands in exchange for receipts.

“Charm offensive mode: activated,” Dick grinned. “Let’s see if Gotham’s finest baristas and cashiers hold the keys to this mystery.”

He grabbed his keys and headed for the door, the glow of the city waiting just outside—his playground for the next twelve hours.

⸻

DAY ONE AGENT: A-02 CALLSIGN: Red Hood OBJECTIVE: Gather Evidence on Suspect Y/N L/N TIMESTAMP: 07:50 HOURS LOCATION: Gotham City

Jason Todd stood alone in the center of another one of his safehouses- this one was closer to GA-, a war map of Gotham behind him, a fresh pad of neon sticky notes in one hand, and a Sharpie in the other.

This was no ordinary mission. This was personal.

He had exactly one week to prove that something about Y/N L/N didn’t add up—and he wasn’t about to let Dick’s dumb barista charm or Tim’s overclocked laptop get in the way.

His plan was simple. Strategic. Slightly unhinged.

Step One: Shadow her. From rooftops, parked bikes, alley corners—wherever he could stay unseen. Silent. Efficient. Ghost mode. He would know her routine better than Damian by the time this was over.

Side note: if he followed her by car, he’d need to swap vehicles every few hours to avoid suspicion. Conclusion: rooftops andalleys were the way to go.

Step Two: Pattern Analysis. He already had a mental map: school, gymnastics gym, public library, that suspiciously cozy bookstore with the cryptic window signs, and the overpriced cafe she seemed weirdly attached to. If she breathed near a building, he’d know about it.

Step Three: Sticky Note Protocol. For every potential clue, a sticky note. Color-coded and captioned for dramatic effect.

Pink = emotionally compromising

Blue = Theories and conspiracies

Green = Mission priority - Focus here

Yellow = commentary

Captions were non-negotiable.

Step Four: Sabotage. If Dick tried flirting his way into a barista’s heart? Jason would interfere. Spill coffee. Flash a badge. Pretend to be his angry husband. The options were limitless. Chaos was his domain.

Step Five: Dominate the Whiteboard. He wanted his board overflowing—photos, receipts, mystery items, printed chat logs, a stray shoelace if he had to. He wasn’t just playing to win. He was playing to obliterate.

Jason cracked his neck and holstered his weapons—not the lethal kind, but the investigative ones: extra Sharpies, flash drives, fingerprint powder, and an entire Ziploc of laminated backup sticky notes in case of rain.

Somewhere out there, a seventeen-year-old girl was walking around Gotham like she wasn’t hiding something.

And Jason Todd wasn’t going to rest until he figured out what.

Because how could she not be hiding something? Normal people don't just kiss a demon.

He slid his helmet on with a metallic click.

“Operation: Toddwatch begins now.”

And with that, Red Hood vanished into the shadows.

⸻

DAY ONE: AGENT: A-03 CALLSIGN: Red Robin OBJECTIVE: Gather Evidence on Suspect Y/N L/N TIMESTAMP: 07:50 HOURS LOCATION: Gotham City

Tim Drake stood at his portable command station like a man about to perform heart surgery. Four monitors glowed in the darkened corner of his sacred hideout: his room at Wayne Manor—one open on GCPD and Gotham Academy databases, one with live satellite maps, one with a feed from street cameras and hidden cameras, and one already flashing the words:

“TRACKING: SUBJECT Y/N L/N — STATUS: UNCONFIRMED.”

He had two mini-drones already mid-charge on his bed, and three hard drives labeled “Y/N_CAM_FEED_ALPHA,” “SCHOOL_NETWORK_ACCESS,” and simply “STALK_DOC.”

He sipped his second espresso of the day and didn’t blink once.

“Okay,” he muttered, fingers hovering over the keyboard like a pianist. “Let’s make some ethically questionable magic.”

Phase One: Surveillance Web.

Tap Gotham Academy’s camera grid.

Confirm Subject’s locker, backpack brand, and usual walking route.

Keyword-flagged text monitoring initiated: “Dami,” “boyfriend,” “secret,” and “❤️” just in case.

Cross-check timestamps against Damian’s GA schedule for correlation spikes.

Phase Two: Evidence Acquisition.

Deploy drone 'Birdwatcher-2', disguised as a smoke detector, to attach to the GA ceilings and tail Subject in school.

Deploy drone 'Birdwatcher-3', disguised as a pigeon, to tail Subject from school to the next location.

Send mini robot with claw hands after the drones to bag anything she drops or leaves behind. Candy wrappers? Suspicious. Plastic cup? Bag it.

Have drones photograph all objects she interacts with. Repeated contact equals emotional significance.

Dont be spotted. Getting caught is for amateurs.

Stay within the comfort of this hideout to monitor and control drones and robot. Never let suspect see or hear drones or robot.

Phase Three: Behavioral Profiling.

Build a daily routine chart with timestamps down to the minute.

Determine any repeating behaviors that suggest covert romantic activity.

Flag deviations or emotionally charged facial expressions near unknown males.

Add all findings to “Y/N_Masterfile_v12_FINAL_FINAL_REAL.zip"

Start timeline board. Add strings. Maybe red yarn. Maybe red string AND red yarn.

Tim adjusted the evidence kit on his hip. “They laughed when I made thermal imaging lenses for pigeons,” he muttered, booting up the drone interface. “Well. Who’s laughing now?”

He opened a new folder on his hard drive and typed the name with a completely straight face:

LOVEBIRD.EXE

Evidence bags, fully labeled. Drone batteries, at 96%.

Y/N L/N? Target acquired.

Mission? Imminent.

And with that, Agent A-03 let his two drones slip out into the Gotham morning—Silent, swift, and one disguised as an exceptionally judgmental pigeon while the other was disguised as a smoke detector.

Tim didn’t move from his chair.

Instead, he pulled up six live feeds, adjusted his headset, and cracked his knuckles.

The hunt had begun. And if anyone was going to win this competition, it would be the boy with 37 terabytes of organized paranoia, a moral compass held together with duct tape, and a deeply personal vendetta against inefficiency.

Somewhere in Gotham, Y/N L/N had just walked into the Gotham Academy doors.

Tim Drake zoomed in.

“Showtime.”

⸻

All three agents had copies of the same paper folded in each of their pockets.

On it:

GOTHAM ACADEMY CLASS SCHEDULE Name: Y/N L/N

Day - 1st period (8:00-8:50) - 2nd period (9:00-9:50) - 3rd period (10:00-10:50) - 4th period (11:00-11:50) - lunch (11:50 - 12:10) - 5th period (12:10-1) - 6th period (1:10-2) - 7th period (2:10-3)

Monday - Free: Student Council Meeting - English - Biology - Physics - lunch (11:50 - 12:10) - Math - Arabic - Geography

Tuesday - Math - Physics - English - Philosophy - lunch (11:50 - 12:10) - Chemistry - Free - Economics

Wednesday - Biology - Chemistry - Math - English - lunch (11:50 - 12:10) - Arabic - Robotics - Free: Art Club

Thursday - Math - Physics - Economics - Robotics - lunch (11:50 - 12:10) - English - Free: Book Club - Arabic

Friday - Chemistry - Biology - Arabic - Physics - lunch (11:50 - 12:10) - History - Math - Robotics

They all had the same thing on their minds: 'Y/N L/N, please drop and forget a lot of stuff.'

⸻

next chapter

[redflagshipwriter]

Mama Bat 9: Dinner Out

masterpost

After her promise, the bats were a whirlwind of activity. He didn’t know where Uncle D or Alfred went, but Cass and Bruce gently bustled him across the house to plan his ecto dinner like it was an attack on an enemy base.

“I think it was around here,” Danny said uncertainly over the map in Bruce’s study. “I don’t know the names of any of these places. But there was this abandoned-looking theme park that had a lot of what I need.”

He didn’t have to be the world’s smartest ghost to recognize that there was a lot of tension in the air after he said that. That tracked. There were not many pleasant ways for a place in the human realm to accumulate a glut of deathly energy.

“That makes sense,” Bruce said. “Cass, honey, do you think we should ask Dick and Jason?” He folded the map back up along the same lines as before without even looking. Danny wondered at why he had that muscle memory. Did he fold everything in the same pattern?

“Big visible muscle,” Cass agreed. Her phone appeared out of nearly nowhere. “Danny.” 

He stood up even straighter. 

“Is Amity dangerous?” She pinned him in a look, her soft brown eyes arresting. “Dangerous to Jasmine Fenton?”

“Jazz,” he corrected automatically. Cass nodded. He rolled his ankles around, stimming below their line of sight. “Uh.” Danny faltered. “Um.” He bit his lower lip and tried to feel less like there was a painful hand around his heart. 

He hadn’t thought so. But he would never have thought that he and Vlad were in serious danger, either. Now that the GIW and Mom and Dad knew… They would know who to ask for more information.

His parents would never push his friends or Jazz too hard. But the idea of the GIW trying to intimidate his friends and family was almost too upsetting to consider.

“Batdad extracts them?” Cass cocked her head at him to make it even more of a question. It was up to him. Was it a good idea?

Danny licked his lips. His mouth was so dry. He struggled for words. “Maybe.” One shaky inhalation. “If, um.” It sounded like someone else’s voice. It couldn’t be him saying that right now. “If it wouldn’t be too obtrusive… I don’t want to extract them and then, like, they can’t go back if they wanna.”

“We can handle that.” Bruce made eye contact to promise. He looked, Danny thought, like a more responsible, boring version of Jack Fenton. His eyes burned. 

“That would be, uh. Cool.” Danny managed to get that out and avert his eyes, but he felt like everyone could see that he was about to cry.

Whatever. He leaned to the left before he consciously knew that Cass was lifting an arm to put over his shoulder. It slotted in place like they’d done it a billion times. Danny tilted his head towards the nails she gently scratched through his hair.

“Batdad, Damibat, Timbird, Stephanie,” Cass listed easily. “Amity.” She jostled Danny a little. “And we get dinner. You only need me. I’m the best. But we bring boys too, Dickbird and Jason.” She blew a raspberry.  

Bruce looked exhausted and fond. “She is the best,” he agreed. Danny watched their interplay like it was a pingpong match. “I think you ought to go tonight to get something to eat. Would you recommend that we contact Jazz and your friends in the daytime, or should we leave as soon as possible?”

…They all had school in the day. Even Jazz was still in high school. Danny eyed Bruce doubtfully. He did know about school, right? “Night is probably better.” 

“I’ll make a few calls.” Bruce sat back and seemed to flip a switch into planning mode.

“Text!” Cass said, disagreeing strongly. She rolled her eyes, but it wasn’t too mean. “Grandfather Bat.”

“Oh!” Danny startled. “Um, I should contact Sam and Tucker. So that they know to expect you.” 

Bruce balked. “We don't normally contact civilians about ongoing investigations…” He looked constipated about it.

Danny crossed his arms. He wanted to think it was stubbornness more than self comfort. “You're not going to like, creep up on my friends. If they want to go, they need some time to get ready.” 

“Preparing could give away the plan to observers.” 

“Is Amity Park Batman's domicile?” Cass asked archly. “Batdad.” She put both her hands on his desk and leaned forward to give her father an unimpressed look. “Mayor of Amity Park?”

Bruce snorted and then covered his mouth guiltily. “Point taken.” He cleared his throat, trying to retain some dignity. “Danny, do you need help to contact your friends?” 

He shrugged. “Just a computer.” Danny fiddled with the strings on his hoodie. Tucker's hoodie. “I know you gave me a phone, but we thought -”

“That communications might be intercepted,” Bruce said, nodding as if that kind of paranoia was commonplace. “It's the first thing I would do if I expected a person of interest to contact a friend. What's your workaround?”

Danny bit his lip. It sounded stupid when he said it aloud. 

Ten minutes later, Damian joined Cass in her perch on the back of the sofa and watched with morbid curiosity as Danny joined Doomed chatroom after chatroom, scanning for Sam's username. “She’ll leave it running whenever she's home in case I ping her,” Danny defended weakly. He left another chatroom. 

Damian hummed, two pitches that came off incredibly doubtful. He had a gift for that.

“No, really, this- yes!” Danny pumped a fist and sent a HEY ITS YA BOI message. 

It took seconds for Sam to get to it and add his temporary account as a friend. She sent a DM before he could and then ignored his response to start a voice chat. 

Once he'd confirmed to her satisfaction that he was himself and that he hadn't gotten any deader in Gotham, he passed on the information that the friggin Batman was going to stop by Amity and wanted to check in. “But don’t worry, he’s kinda cool,” Danny added. “I gotta go. I am starving.”

Sam said all the rude words that she knew in quick succession. Damian looked sort of impressed. “Fine,” she said, obviously annoyed about it. “I’ll meet with Batman, but only because I hate the GIW more.”

“You hate Batman?” Damian asked. It was hard to tell from his tone if he had any feelings about that.

“That’s Damian,” Danny introduced. “He’s cool.”

“Hey,” Sam said shortly. “Yeah, he’s basically a cop. You have a problem with that?” Her voice went a little too aggressive.

“Just so you know, Damian is a child,” Danny said warily. 

Sam scoffed. “You said he’s cool. I respect him enough to fight him if he’s wrong.”

“Batman may be improved by your feedback,” Damian said idly, as if he wasn’t making trouble for his father on purpose. “You should be certain to give it to him as soon as you see him. Do you have time to prepare a presentation?”

Danny sniggered into his hand.

“I can reuse the posterboard from Current Events class, yeah.” Sam mused. “Good idea. Alright, thanks for the heads up. It’s really good to hear from you. We were starting to get worried here. You missed a check in, you know.” She was trying to sound tough, but there was a hint of strain.

Danny flushed. “Yeah, I had logistical difficulties,” he said, which sounded less pathetic than “I got robbed while I was sleeping outside and had no money to  use to access a computer.”

He ignored the thoughtful look he knew he was getting from Cass and signed off. He avoided making eye contact with anyone as he stretched, hands over his head. Then Danny put his hands on his hips and kind of stretched by rotating his back around. “Well, that’s done. Have fun with Sam, Uncle D.”

Damian made a hum in the back of his throat, eyes lost in thought. “I think I will.” Then he stalked away without a proper goodbye. Just a big housecat, that kid.

“Do you think Jason and Dick will be here soon?” Don’t ask, don’t ask, Danny silently hoped.

Cass looked at him for a long moment, silently weighing options and odds behind her dark eyes. Then she nodded. She turned on her heel and left, obviously expecting him to follow.  

Danny jogged to keep up. How did she move so fast without running? She had short legs, too. He was still busy pondering when they rounded a hallway corner and heard male voices from the entryway.

“Wait.” Cass shoved him the last step with a gentle palm press to the shoulder and then flitted back down the hallway.

“Hey, buddy,” Dick said.

Danny managed a nod in return. He stuffed his hands into his hoodie pocket and tried not to look like he was hiding.

Jason all but oozed reassurance at him, without ever looking at him. As far as the eye could tell, the blonde was barely aware that Danny was present. But under the surface of his skin, his masses of ectoplasm were roiling with  a sort of proprietary indulgence. 

It was a kindness, probably, that the two men continued their conversation as if they were still alone. Danny didn’t really pay attention, thoughts consumed with  a mixture of nerves about his worlds colliding and sobbing relief that he might get really, genuinely full for the first time since he had to run away from Amity Park. He edged a little closer to Jason without thinking about it consciously. 

Cass arrived silently. Danny looked up as she entered the room only because he could sense her steady presence. “Time to go,” he said.

Jason startled with a very small jump. His expression instantly changed to exhausted resignation.

“Haha,” Cass said, pointing at him.

“Poor scared little guy,” Dick cooed. “You can’t sneak up on him like that.”

“Too scary,” Cass said, nowhere near as convincing as Dick at empathy.

Jason scowled. “Shut up,” he complained. He zipped up his jacket and yanked the door open. The sound of early crickets immediately cut into the house along with a fresh, cool breeze. “You both suck.”

Danny felt a faint smile pull at his face. He ducked his head and fell in, following at Jason’s heels. He didn’t look back to see who shut the door. 

Dick drove them all. They parked a few blocks away and made it across the barren, creepy fairgrounds in utter silence. Danny followed his instincts and the source that he’d sensed from kilometers away in the city center but had been too worn down to even try to trek to without at least feeding his human body.

“So, what now?”  Dick turned a cautious circle. “I didn’t exactly expect to see a physical object for you to eat, but I did sort of expect something.”

Danny made a face. “If I had the right tech I could filter and extract it out of the air, condense it into a really dense, liquid form. But, uh.” He turned a little to the side to avoid eye contact and hunched into his hoodie. “I sort of need to just hang out and…filter feed.” He grimaced. He sounded like a dumb fish.

“Inefficient,” Cass observed.

He nodded. “Yeah, but I’m really drained, so I need to be around a high concentration to get a jumpstart. If I needed less, I could probably just…” Danny made a circle gesture and sort of pointed at Jason. “Hang around him, I guess.”

Cass hummed in the back of her throat. “Perimeter.” Then she ran directly at a wall and hefted herself up onto the roof of the derelict funhouse. She was out of sight in seconds, which was impressive athleticism. Danny watched her go with raised eyebrows.

Dick huffed and shuffled even closer to Jason, clearly wary of Cass. “You can’t be the favorite uncle,” he lamented. “That should be me.” Danny choked down a laugh and pretended to be very busy filter feeding.

“You’re just crabby because you aren’t full of delicious ghost juice,” Jason muttered into Dick’s ear at a volume that he clearly thought Danny wouldn’t hear. The banter didn’t stop him from making periodic glances around the area. He caught an elbow to the gut from Dick for the comment and the inattention. Danny took a step further away from jabbing range.

“We aren’t here to hear you brag about how juicy you are,” Dick said out of the side of his mouth. 

EW. But Danny felt smug satisfaction in Jason’s aura at that answer, so apparently it wasn’t as nasty sounding to him as it was to Danny. He made a blegh face, scraping his tongue against his teeth.

‘Maybe I should tell them at some point that I have better than human hearing.’ He pointedly wandered a few steps further away and pretended to be occupied with sniffing out the highest concentration of ectoplasm.

Jason grinned unpleasantly. “No, I usually have that conversation with all of your exes- oof.” Jason bent over and tried to breathe through the hit to his diaphragm.

Danny did his best to ignore the commentary from the peanut gallery. He took deep breaths and tried to keep an eye on all the shadows. 

Amusement Mile wasn’t saturated with high quality ectoplasm like Amity Park, but nothing ever should be. Danny licked his lips and tried to stay alert. There could be any number of distressed or territorial dead around a place like this. It was eerily still. 

“This place is just plain creepy.” Danny hid a shudder. “What happened here?”

Jason huffed a laugh with absolutely no joy in it. “It’s more like what keeps happening here.” Danny glanced over at just the right angle to realize that Jason had a gun in his pocket. Holy shit. A gun. His eyes went wide.

“But nothing should happen tonight,” Dick cut in. His eyes looked tight and tense in a way that his breezy tone didn’t hint at. “The person who likes to use this area as a staging ground is currently in lockup. We double checked before we came out here.”

All three of them tensed when Cass jumped back down off the same building she’d climbed earlier. “Suspicious,” she said flatly.

Dick and Jason instantly lost their facades of ease. Danny realized, a bit late, that this place was really fucking concerning even to the living. “What’s wrong?” Dick snapped out. His posture changed and somehow his shoulders looked broader. Alarmed, Danny glanced between the adults.  

“Someone was here.” Cass held up a very familiar piece of tech. “Inside vent.”

Danny felt the blood drain out of his face. Cass zeroed in on the expression. “GIW,” he said. “Uh, that measures… that senses ghosts.” He licked his lips. “I think we should go.”

“Are you- are you going to be hungry?” Jason’s brow furrowed fiercely. “You think they might have an alert that you came out here?”

“We are more capable than we look.” Dick promised. And his serious voice was pretty reassuring, actually, all things considered. But Danny still felt like he was going to be sick. 

 Tires screeched. It was too late to get out of here.

[silence-ofthe-llamas]

More Mech Au-Au!

Swindle-orientated chapter, with sprinkles of TexAid.

Swindle smiled at everyone.

He smiled at those he was happy with, he smiled at those who had pissed him off, he smiled at those he was making deals with, the list was endless.

The only time he didn’t smile was when he was on his own. The door would click closed behind him, the lock automatically engaging, and the facade would slide from his face.

This all had to be worth it. It had to. He’d risked so much already, he was gambling at stakes he couldn’t pay. Failure would mean death, death for all five of them, and as such, failure was unacceptable.

He’d promised Onslaught.

Vortex was a source of pride for him - a prototype mech who had survived against all odds, plumping up his resume handsomely. The only surviving AI from that round and the round that came after - against all odds, Vortex had persisted. He hadn’t self destructed like his own cohort had, he hadn’t lost his sense of reality, he didn’t completely lose himself. He remained exactly who he was, for better or for worse. The discussions of destroying him once he’d begun to show his more aggressive tendencies were terrifying, sending Swindle scrambling for ways to extract Vortex from the mech. They didn’t get this far just to be treated like they were disposable. Had they forgotten that they were real people they’d trapped within the metal? What did it matter that they were slated to die anyway? That didn’t mean they could just be destroyed when they became inconvenient, there was supposed to be a due process. They were owed that much.

Swindle hung up his hat and ran his hand through his hair. Fuck. They’d gotten so lucky with that boy – Felix, right? That was his name, and Swindle has a vague recollection of his name meaning luck. Good for them that he lived up to it – they were lucky that he was persistent and determined, lucky that Vortex seemed to like him. His teammate liked to play with his food, and it seemed he was settling in to give First Aid a good long chew. Which was good! It meant Vortex was unknowingly buying himself some more time whilst he looked for ways to extract him and put him in something else. Anything else would do at this point - shit, he could be his toaster and burn his toast for eternity. At least he’d still be alive and he wouldn’t be left alone again.

Shit. How depressing. How did this become their only option?

Swindle kicked off his shoes, neatly placing them away onto the rack, and shrugged off his jacket

“I want to make them burn in hell.”

He’d done it because he had to. He took no pleasure in what happened to his team after he gave the wrong people the right intel - but it was this, or they’d all be dead. Like, dead-in-the-ground-dead. Skullfucked by maggots dead. Not on ice, not in giant suits of armour with guns and swords bigger than buildings, dead. Dead and forgotten, and it would be all five of them. Nobody alive to fight in their corner, nobody to keep them as safe as they could, nobody to do what needed to be done.

The screams didn’t haunt him like they used to. While they were still alive, skulking around the research centre with tags and monitors and cables and cameras on them at all times, people did terrible things to them. Trepan was the most frightening. He was enraptured with the idea of creating super soldiers. That’s what they’d tried at first - they’d needed warm, fresh, and living bodies - and who would notice if a mercenary group went missing? Everyone would just assume that they had died, and that would be that. They wouldn’t even look for their corpses.

Vortex had been the most difficult one for them to deal with. He was rude, unruly, and dished back what he was given. At one point they’d had to strap him down Hannibal style just to give him his injections - after they’d removed his prosthetic arm when he’d slashed through the restraints and three researchers with the hidden blade, he’d taken to biting down hard enough to rip chunks of flesh from the researchers instead. Vortex would laugh through the blood that dripped down his chin, but he’d always ended up screaming.

Brawl was freakishly quiet. He would press his palms to his temples, his eyes dull and face gaunt. Swindle would never admit how it made his insides churn, how guilt had ravaged him into sleepless nights. They all screamed, they all cried through the agony of it, but it was the worst when they were quiet. His team wasn’t meant to be quiet. They were always doing something, saying something. Vortex was always pissing off Blast Off, winding him up like a younger sibling did to an older one. Brawl was always playing music far too loud in his headphones. Onslaught was much quieter, but he was his own kind of orchestra of sound. A gun being cleaned, turning pages, the squeak of leather.

They weren’t in the research facility. They were shadows of themselves.

Onslaught had always given Swindle his looks though. No blame. No fault given. Thankful. They’d made a promise, after all. They’d agreed that this was what they would do, how it would happen. Anything that gave them longer to figure out what the fuck they were going to do.

The experiments were a failure. All it gave them were broken men. But that only gave them perfectly usable test subjects for something else, for another failing project.

Trepan had asked Swindle personally who he would volunteer as their first test subject. Who did he think had the best chance of success? Who did he think would make the best immortal warrior?

The cockroach, he’d replied. Vortex was fucking impossible to kill. He’d seen him getting himself blown up multiple times. He’d had to pay to fix his face, he’d had to pay to fix his spine, he’d had to pay for that damn prosthetic and every single hospital stay to stitch him back together. And not once had the man been touched by death. If a nuclear bomb were to fall on them, he was convinced Vortex would emerge unscathed and demanding a cigarette.

He was also extremely resistant to control. He despised being told what to do. Onslaught was an exception because he had actually made an effort to build a rapport with him, it was a relationship built on mutual respect and understanding. And Trepan? Every single scientist in this building? Vortex would rend them to dust and ash if they even entertained the thought of controlling him.

It was a hopeful moment, a glimpse into an optimistic future. Vortex would lose his humanity, but they would all regain their freedom.

But good things didn’t favour terrible men.

Fuck, he wanted a cigarette.

The photoshoot with Blurr was overrunning. It was already eleven o’clock at night - they’d been at this since 10 in the morning, working hard to get their perfect shots. The photogenic mechanics (paid actors). The intelligent engineers (more paid actors). The trustworthy medics (yet more paid actors). Their only non-actor was Blurr, but even then he was just their show dog. He wasn’t actually a pilot, not in the traditional sense. He wasn’t deployed, he was paraded.

Blurr would want to talk after, to natter away about something or other, to get a drink together and maybe a bite to eat, but Swindle just wanted to go to bed. He was tired. Exhausted. Going into his teammates lockers to grab a photograph had just dug up old memories from where he’d buried them, and he’d woken up with Vortex’s screams in his native tongue ringing in his ears, unable to get back to sleep. He could still hear it between the sounds of the camera shutter.

First Aid seemed to be a nice enough kid. He got on well with others, he did his job without complaint, and he was efficient. He didn’t dally around when he was to clamber into Vortex, he was quick and to the point - and, Swindle noticed with growing curiosity, he studiously avoided touching his controls.

If only the pilots were smart enough to pick up on that. Shame, really. It was starting to get real expensive to keep this quiet.

So it was with quiet horror that he watched as First Aid was trapped within the cockpit, the medic accompanying him collapsing to the floor as blood spurted up the glass from where his leg used to be.

He found himself hissing through his teeth. Don’t do anything stupid, Tex!

When First Aid stumbled out looking like his first pilot he’d ever had did, Swindle felt a grim mood take over him. How hard was it to fucking behave? To not do something so unbelievably stupid? To not get himself killed? Apparently it was too much for Vortex to fucking control himself.

But First Aid had been okay. The next day he was as chipper and chirpy as ever with full recollection of the previous day. He’d thought it was funny.

And that’s when Swindle knew that the boy was their chance. If he could survive Vortex, if Vortex was allowing him to live, then they had to seize the opportunity they could.

Nobody listened. Nobody fucking listened. They were repatriating children in biohazard bags, not even a hand left intact for their loved ones to hold as they said goodbye, and they weren’t listening to him.

They needed Felix Anwyl in that mech. Now. He was sick of watching lambs being offered up for sacrifice. Vortex was a malicious bastard but even he would get bored of it all eventually - and from where Swindle was standing, he saw a much better chance of getting their brothers online if Vortex settled down and stopped acting like he was possessed by the devil.

Seeing Felix sprinting towards Vortex in a pilots suit that didn’t fit him, Swindle discretely cleared the way. He distracted the officers with him, had them avert their eyes for a second to let him pass. He redirected people, he gave distractions, he delayed who he could to buy First Aid much needed time to get to the mech before that cadet took a single step inside. Vortex would kill them for the intrusion, he’d explicitly had enough of it and was demanding what was his. His words in the morning memos were enough.

Swindle was out of options. He needed to get First Aid into that mech before they stamped the paperwork to render the supposed AI obsolete and for the scrap heap.

He didn’t have a toaster ready for him yet.

Prowl had looked thunderous on the catwalk. So had Pharma. He had to fight to keep his grin at bay - he had to press his hand to his lips to hide it when Vortex began yelling ‘mine’ through the walkie talkie.

Oh, he really liked this one.

Pharma had kicked up the biggest fuss. He didn’t want to lose his precious medic.

Swindle checked his file. First Aid hadn’t been on any major medical assignments since the previous year, and there was no record of why. No particular displeasures, no signs of any faults or major errors, any need to retrain, or competencies lapsing and requiring reassessment. Pharma had just decided to force First Aid away from his job in some bizarre, inexplicable act.

He’d grabbed him by the collar and hissed into his ear that the blood was on his hands. That if he wanted to keep First Aid, then he could be the one to clear the mech out, that he would be the one to write to the families and explain what had happened.

Pharma had opened his mouth and begun to say something about a punishment, but Swindle placed his finger to his lips and shook his head.

“It’s not on his record.” He reminded him, tapping the file. “Do you want to incriminate yourself? Right here?”

And so he’d received the stamp of approval that evening. The ink was still wet as he shook Pharmas hand, the man holding his too tightly.

First Aid seemed to like Vortex too.

Pilots didn’t usually go and hang out with their mechs. They liked to be near them – apparently there was something about the connection that had them bond in such a way that they liked to be close to them, that they’d feel drawn towards them, but First Aid’s seemed to be almost excessive. At every free opportunity, he was there. If you couldn’t find him, the advice was to check Vortex – he’d probably be in the cockpit reading a book or listening to music, or he’d be elbow deep cleaning out the joints from the gunk the clean up crew didn’t manage to get. If it was a meal time and he wasn’t in his room or in the cafeteria, he was with Vortex.

His secondary role on base was still, technically, a medic – but Pharma had made it clear that he wasn’t welcome back in the medical bay. He’d made his bed, so to speak – if he wanted to be a pilot, then he’d be one, but it was at the sacrifice of his oath to medicine, so he wasn’t allowed to perform it. He was left to spin his wheels, to attend training sessions when they could run them for him (it was an open secret that he wasn’t a pilot, but a secret it was) and scratch his arse until the alarm went off and he was marked for deployment.

Swindle didn’t know that Pharma could hold such a grudge. He’d made a mental note to never piss him off.

A few times, when Swindle couldn’t sleep and was on a walk, he’d seen First Aid slipping into Vortex. He’d raised his brows at that.

Swindle didn’t know how Vortex hadn’t squished him yet.

Vortex fell back into the Shatterdome, rain thundering down on his armour sounding like the roar of a passing train. Sparks erupted from the gaping hole where his shoulder used to be, two of his back blades torn free and the remaining hanging on by rapidly breaking cables. The mech fell to its knees, catching itself on its remaining arm, its visor flashing a single message over and over.

OBJECTIVE ONE: PROTECT THE PILOT.

For the first time, Vortex had obeyed the objective embedded into each of their mechs. Protect the pilot. More than that, he’d brought him straight back to them.

Swindle watched him in quiet awe.

Wow. He really liked this one.

When the radio had cut out in a roar of static, Swindle had half expected Vortex to stay out on the front and continue his slaughter like he usually did when his pilot died, but instead he watched as the red dot that symbolised Vortex on the screen instead turned around and began sprinting back to the Shatterdome, ignoring all of the targets around him, ignoring when a quintesson got a good hit on him, barrelling past the other deployed mechs. Mission Control received multiple communications from the other pilots out in the field, confused calls from the crews of the helicopters monitoring from above - Vortex wasn’t responding. Vortex was moving entirely independently - his pilot was unresponsive and his life signal was so weak it could easily have been the electricity from the cables exposed to the elements being detected instead.

His walkie talkie crackled as Vortex looked directly at the large room Mission Control sat in overlooking the hangar. A voice he hadn’t heard in years ground out.

“He dies, everyone dies.”

Swindle swallowed hard, and nodded.

“Tex?” The voice was weak and unrecognisable. Swindle realised it must have been Felix. He was alive and conscious enough to speak - Swindle was already waving off people trying to get permission to do things, motioning for them to just get fucking on with it.

“Get that pilot out!” He hissed at them.

“It’s going to be okay.” Vortex promised. Swindle didn’t know his voice could get so soft.

“Stay put, Tex. Don’t move a muscle and unlock your emergency escape, the medics are here.” Swindle spoke into the walkie talkie. He received a few weird looks from those around him, but he ignored them. He’d field their curiosities later - for now, he had to focus on keeping Felix alive and figuring out how they were going to safely contain Vortex.

Fuck. He wished Onslaught had been activated. He’d know what to do. For a brief moment he wished their positions were reversed. He’d have handled all this shit so much better. Swindle would never tell him or ever admit it, but Onslaught was always the brains of the unit, he always had a plan. He’d probably have had all of them activated by now, brought the whole team back together again.

He chewed his bottom lip until it bled, the taste of copper stinging on his tongue.

The medic had to live. He had to. There was no protecting Vortex if he went on a murder spree - they could just about justify the pilots being pulverised inside of him, the difference between the cost to spec up and build and test a mech that was his equal vs the cost to train a new pilot was extraordinary. Vortex could, in theory, chew through a few hundred more pilots before they’d start to wonder if they should have just built a new mech. But to destroy a whole base?

Yeah. No. It would be significantly more difficult to justify it as a misidentified ‘protect the pilot’ protocol. Sure, he could argue that the base failed to save his pilot, but how would the mech know? Why did the mech identify the Shatterdome as a target? Clearly it was faulty, glitched, and needed to go.

Vortex was not one to be reasoned with. Swindle knew that all too well. There wasn’t going to be the opportunity to talk him down from his decision.

They succeeded, or they failed. That was it. One or the other. Felix survived, or everyone died.

God, he prayed that Felix was as much of a cockroach as Vortex was.

[glitterclan]

kinda embarrassing i cant work out how to download the experimental branch of the gene mod so if you have the time is there any chance we can get a tutorial 👉👈

download the .zip file here (click the green code button then click download zip), extract the contents to its own folder.

you may need to install uv lock, which you can do by opening windows powershell and inputting the following:

powershell -ExecutionPolicy ByPass -c "irm https://astral.sh/uv/install.ps1 | iex"

then you should click the run.bat file in the zip contents you extracted and it should run. you cannot run this through thonny, you have to use the run file. if it doesn’t work, you can get help in the genemod discord.

if you’re trying to convert your old saves to the experimental branch and/or merge saves into one file, it requires some work and knowledge of how to edit your save files. i’ll explain how to do that below the cut.

if you want to convert an existing genemod save to the new branch:

1. go into your [name]clan.json file in the saves folder. at the very top, above “clanname”, put “clancount_mode”: “multiclan”

2. go into your clan’s subfolder in the saves folder and open the clan_cats.json file. for every single cat in the game, put “group”: “CLAN” on a line under the “status” line. for kittypets or loners, put “null” without quotation marks.

now you have to create the other clans, because it won’t generate them automatically. you can do this by stealing cats from other pre-existing saves. keep in mind that you can view other clans, but you cannot play as them.

3. paste in all of your cats from other clans into the clan_cats.json of your main clan. make sure there is a proper bracket transition between the cats, because this doesn't paste in.

make sure each cat has the proper "group" label that corresponds to what clan they are supposed to be in.

4. this is the difficult part. you have to go in and change any repeating ID numbers. when you are merging files, you may find cats with the same ID number. sometimes you may not. you just have to check.

if you find a cat with the same ID number as another cat, just change one of them to any number that isn't already in use.

but you not only have to change the "ID" section, but you have to change every instance of that cat's ID that appears throughout the sheet. cats who have that cat as a mentor, apprentice, mate (former or current) or parent will have that cat's ID number listed in their code. you have to change it everywhere, and it can be easy to miss some instances of it. you can CTRL+F the ID number to see where the instances are, but make sure you are only changing it for one cat.

5. go back to the [name]clan.json. under the “clan_cats” section near the top, you must add the ID numbers of every cat in the other clans.

6. now you just have to set up the code for the other clans. follow this template, and fill the leader, deputy, and healer lines with the respective ID of those cats.

if you did everything right, it should run. but keep in mind this is tedious and it’s easy to mess up. unless you’re really attached to your pre existing save, i’d suggest creating a save from scratch.

[characteroulette]

Happy Layton Big Bang!!! @proflaytonbigbang !!

Here's my contribution: a whole new ukagaka to play around with!! (Grab them here!!)

Layton and Luke come with a few features --

Sit on your desktop and chat to themselves

Serve them a spot of tea! (Be careful not to jostle them)

Read through Luke's journal and get anecdotes from all their adventures!

A simple affection system!

Update functionality! So if they get more dialogue in the future, all you need to do is tell them to update and they'll grab it automatically!

Other ukagaka functionality (checking your email, deleting the files in your recycling bin, recognising certain files you drag and drop onto them)

And three whole shells! One made by the fantastic Danganny_art (Instagram) (X/Twitter) (check her post on it over here!!), the other made by @smooley (Instagram) (Itch.io) (coming soon!!)!! (I made the third but it was mostly for sprite sheet reference haha)

They come with their own unique balloon as well, made by @ageofzero!! It comes with designs from all 6 of the mainline games, so you can choose your favourite!

I have also posted all of their dialogue lines on ao3 in case you can't get ssp to work, though it's only the barebones dialogue from their release version.

Here's how to grab them --

Download SSP (you are looking for the ダウンロード button)

(as a note, SSP currently only runs on Windows. for solutions to a linux setup, check here!)

Make sure to place SSP in its own folder! Don't extract it directly onto your desktop and don't remove any of the files from its folder. Not even the application.

(You might have to add ssp to the exceptions on your virus protection software so it can run.)

Say hello to Emily (the cat girl)! She will always be there to greet you the first time you run ssp.

Download Layton and Luke's .nar! (You can download their balloon separately, but they come bundled with it so that's not necessary)

Drag Layton and Luke's .nar file onto Emily once she's finished speaking so she will install it.

(Alternatively, if you are having trouble with this, a .nar file is just another .zip, so you can grab the files from it and place it into a folder yourself! Make the new folder in the Ghosts folder of ssp's files (you will see Emily's folder in there!) (make sure to name it the same name as the .nar itself) and place all of Layton and Luke's files inside it!)

Then you can switch or call up Layton and Luke by right clicking on Emily and selecting them from the Switch Ghosts or Call Ghosts options! Simple as that!

Thanks so much for everyone involved!! Happy Layton big bang!!

[cell151]

OC Ramblings: Sophie & Julie (Signalis)

So I've written bits and pieces for various Signalis characters but I've never written about these two who I've been writing about for over a year now.

In July of last year I wrote what was suppose to be a quick one-off Starch story featuring a Storch named Sophie and a Star named Julie called Nostalgia. I liked writing the characters so much that I decided to continue their story in a trilogy hastily titled "The Soldier's Dream" with the stories being: Nostalgia, Outland and Distant Early Warning.

Distant Early Warning is close to wrapping up and afterwards I'll write a collection of one-off bits exploring more of the characters' past and featuring the pair in more happier circumstances.

Below are OC notes about Sophie and Julie and two additional characters.

Artwork by KennyPyro

Sophie (SCTR 8214) Rank: Captain

Veteran STCR unit whose early postings were as facility security and later promoted to combat squad leader due to aptitude for strategic planning and execution

Place of assignment: Minsk (planet)

Personality: As far as Storches go, Sophie is relatively easy going and has more patience than others in her cadre. Physical violence/punishment is a last resort. Never assigned as an interrogator but, as seen in Outland, she is capable of extracting some information with some manipulation and a few broken fingers. 

Sophie does not suffer fools gladly. She values professionalism and expects those that work under her meet those same standards. At the same time she understands the Eusan Nation’s bureaucracy, the endless red tape and the insufficient resources prevents some from doing their jobs and therefore will be lenient. This does not extend to the young STAR units placed under her care. Their lack of discipline, disrespect and constant in-fighting creates problems that Sophie has to work to manage, which she does with the aid of Julie. 

The one time Sophie comes close to using extreme violence as a disciplinary action is when witnessing a Star sucker punch Julie after the latter won a sparring match. It was only due to Julie’s quick intervention that the offending Star didn’t get torn apart.

Exhibits compulsion when it comes to neatness. Maintains a clean and organized living space and office. When Sophie was younger, witnessing a messy work environment caused her distress and annoyance. She overcame this, accepting the fact that it is impossible for the rest of the facility to match her level of neatness. 

A habit of Sophie’s is fidgeting with small objects 

Sophie’s left hand shakes due to PTSD. At first she thinks its mechanical but after the Eules confirm that nothing is wrong with her hand, she doesn’t discuss it and tries to hide it when it happens out of fear of being decommissioned.

Is a bibliophile and expresses interests in book genres outside of history, folklore and fantasy. Actively searches for books in abandoned buildings while on patrol.

Does not smoke but will smoke if offered a cigarette

Appearance: Sophie maintains a consistent, clean outer shell. The tips of her hair are greying. She is unsure to feel about it. Some tell her it is a mark of wisdom while others take to calling her an old hag. 

Her shell and armor is always kept in pristine order. Her younger self would endlessly complain if there were scratches or dents on her chest armor. 

When out in the field (“out in the shit” as the popular saying goes among Replikas), Sophie manages to ignore the mud and muck that gets over herself and her armor because she is laser focused on her job. A very long shower and cleaning procedure immediately follows upon return to base.  

Preferred Weapon: Type 75 Automatic Pistol and EIN-12 Shotgun

Julie (STAR 3286) Rank: Sergeant

An experienced Star unit that is transferred to Sophie’s unit to help instill discipline in the unruly younger Stars. She is younger than her commanding officer but far from a greenhorn. 

Place of assignment: Minsk (planet)

Personality: Julie is more serious than the younger members of her cadre but she is friendly and goes out of her way to familiarize herself with all members of staff, even Gestalts. Despite this friendliness, Julie does give her cadre too much slack. She makes it clear that they have to work to earn her trust and respect. 

Julie openly expresses her opinion when off-duty on matters that would certainly raise eyebrows from higher-ups. 

She is known for thinking outside of the box, going beyond the standard internal programming and training. Her unorthodox methods appeal greatly to Sophie who also values her frank opinions.

Highly competitive with the other Stars when it comes to shooting. After gaining the top spot in the leadership board, she guards her position from any potential usurper. 

Though she guards her top spot vigilantly, she always finds the time to help out her new Replikas with their marksmanship. 

Target practice and weapon maintenance are her main hobbies.  

Does not hold grudges. Not even with the Star that sucker punched her. Even Replikas or Gestalts she thoroughly dislikes, she will give them the benefit of the doubt. Though this level of trust erodes over time. 

A bit ADHD which makes the task of paperwork and even leisure reading difficult.

Like a lot of Stars, she likes to smoke though she limits herself while around Sophie, who doesn’t care for the smell of nicotine. 

- Appearance: While overtly or deliberately messy, Julie has a scruffy appearance typical of Star units. She learns that some of her habitats bother Sophie and she makes a conscious effort to change some of them. This includes not using the bed for gun cleaning or polishing body armor and maintaining a clean work environment. 

- While sporting the typical Star bob haircut, Julie is inspired by Sophie’s grey hair tips

to dye her own hair tips red, which the latter admires a lot. 

Preferred weaponry: Einhorn Revolver and FN FNC-80 Assault Rifle

Relationship: Sophie and Julie had an easy-going platonic relationship right from the beginning with the former happy to have an experienced Star help with the younger, uncooperative Stars and the latter who was surprised to be working under a more mature Storch. While their differences in personality led to some awkwardness and some Odd Couple like situations, they eventually understand each other and are able to work together. 

Julie is the more progressive one in the relationship. She develops feelings for Sophie early on but keeps it to herself not knowing how the Storch would react. These efforts are doubled when she learns that Sophie did not have an easy relationship with her mentor Star. 

Sophie’s Star mentor was named Ramona and she hated her with a passion. Ramona knew of Sophie’s compulsive behavior and addiction to cleanliness and used that against her as punishment. After Sophie finally stands up to her and the relationship between them cools, Ramona instigates a brief physical relationship much to Sophie’s surprise and delight. But it is short lived. Almost immediately Ramona rejects her again, sending Sophie into a depression. Eventually, Sophie recovers and closes off her heart, becoming cold. When Ramona is unexpectedly decommissioned, Sophie doesn’t react but the whole ordeal tears her apart internally and it’s not until Julie’s encouragement that she lets it all out. 

Because of the ill-fated romance with Ramona, Sophie is reluctant to get into a relationship with Julie. But after coming to terms with the fact that Julie is far removed from Ramona and that what happened with Ramona was a toxic relationship, Sophie overcomes these fears.

Julie loves to flirt and will do sneaky actions to get the normally stoic Sophie to blush or react. She is often successful.

Sophie grows to like flirting as she knows that a combination of low voice, an expression and a slight touch will make Julie’s circuits melt.

Julie is, as the Eules describe it, “down bad for Sophie.” She will time her morning and evening showers at the same time as Sophie’s so she can stand close by and stare. Sophie is oblivious to this and takes the time to discuss operational matters. Eventually she catches on and will continue to engage in serious talk while teasing her Star.

Sophie loves to refer to Julie as “my Star.” 

When their relationship becomes physical, the two find it hard to keep their hands to themselves. Sophie has a bit more control over this than Julie. The two quickly work out the best places in the facility when they won’t be observed by security cameras. Nosey Arar units remain a hazard.

Julie knows about Sophie’s hand shaking and holds it everytime it happens. 

Because of her hand shaking, Sophie stops going to the gun range out of embarrassment for her diminished marksmanship. But Julie works with her to overcome this.  

The two can safely vent to each other. While Julie is very open about her feelings and opinions, Sophie is much more guarded. Being able to vent her frustrations and let out her emotions, provide a much needed psychological and emotional relief to the Storch.

Julie loves it when Sophie reads to her. 

Sophie was never interested in facility gossip but with Julie it becomes entertaining.

Julie is delighted when she gets Sophie to laugh.

Sesbian Lex:

They switch. Occasionally they like to engage in a bit of role play where one dominates and the other submits. This does not involve any physical and verbal abuse. Even when restraints like handcuffs are used, foreplay remains playful and consensual. 

Sophie is especially playful following a shower/bath. Late night trips to the shower facility quickly become the norm. 

Sophie and Julie’s relationship is the worst kept secret in the facility.

Past Incarnations

Sophie: Sasha (Gestalt)

Julie: Christa (Gestalt)

Both died during the Eusan Nation's assault on the city of Carcosa. Psychological profiles were taken and registered for future Replika use beforehand, which the subjects were unaware of.

Last words exchanged: 

Sasha: “Remember our promise. If we get separated, find me.”

Christa: “I’ll come running.”

Additional Characters / Replika Types of Note

Marian (EULR 5119): Former combat medic, now chief physician of AEON FACILITY M-25 ORION II.

Meets Sophie in “Outland”, reasons for which won’t be listed here for spoiler reasons

Like Sophie, she is an older Replika unit

Burnt out and very cynical which causes friction between her and the other Eules. After having seen the death and destruction on battlefields, she can’t stand to be surrounded by her cadre’s upbeat attitude and constant partying. The Eules think of her as being standoffish but eventually realize that Marian is troubled by the events she witnessed. They become more understanding and open to her. 

Frequently consumes alcohol

Sophie and her have a brief romantic relationship as kindred spirits who find themselves cast to the “ass-end of space”. When Sophie secures a way to reach Julie, Marian is a little disappointed to see her new friend depart but understands how deeply Sophie loves Julie. Sophie feels bad leaving Marian but the latter insists she goes as she has a “promise to keep.”

Refers to Sophie as “Sheriff”

Sophie’s tendency to get hurt annoys her

Sleeps in her office

Loves New Wave music and likes to dance in her office when no one is around

CROW (KRW) Units

Replika units typically used as pilots

While valued for their aviation skills, their personality traits proved to be problematic as more than any other Replika unit they were not motivated by loyalty or national pride to do their duties but more as an exercise of their own egos. When banded together, they are usually the loudest and most obnoxious ones in the room.

Crows keep to their cadres while at the same time constant squabbling with their own kind. Despite this, Crows will band together if there is any physical altercations between one of their kind and another Replika unit. They believe in strength in numbers and will fight dirty.  

Known thieves and hoarders, valuing material goods above all else. 

Due to all the factors above, CROW units are wildly unpopular outside their work as pilots.

Additional addendum: Crow Jokes as told by other Repika types

“Where is a Crow when it’s not flying? The stockade”

“Why was the Crow decommissioned for petty theft? Because it pickpocketed its interrogator while pleading its innocence.” 

Wren: a Crow unit who is sympathetic to Sophie’s situation and will fly her a dangerous blizzard to reach the facility where Julie was reassigned. Her price: a cigarette lighter. 

Sophie knowingly exploits Crows’ addiction to shiny objects 

Outside of her hot-shot piloting skills, Wren proves to be quite cowardly but is easily persuaded by Sophie

Loosely based on the character of Jeremy from The Secret of NIMH

[umbramoons]

TECH MOMENTS PT. 26

The Bad Batch S2 E9: The Crossing

This is a bigger post, but I'm not sorry, it's my personal favorite so far. This is MY Tech episode. Possibly my favorite episode out of the entire series, honestly. It just has such a comforting feeling to me.

- Something about the way he brushes the dust off those controls ❤

- Even though he would like Wrecker’s help in the mine, he recognizes that Omega shouldn’t be alone out there and doesn’t argue when Hunter tells Wrecker to stay outside with her.

- "Looks like Cid was deceived into purchasing an already depleted mine."

- The way he points to the ipsium and looks up at it is cute for some reason. ❤

- “Omega, we require your assistance.” I love it when he asks his little sister for help.

- He has to stand on his toes to reach up to Hunter. ❤

- “Good. Again.”

- That little shared glance with Omega when Hunter says it’s time to leave. He pays attention to her. ❤

- The way he instantly notices whenever Hunter senses something.

- Lol, he runs when he realizes his ship is being stolen.

- "Tell me, Wrecker. How exactly did you miss our ship being compromised?" Ooo, he's getting snippy. ❤

- "Well, there was no other suitable landing zone, Wrecker."

- He’s the one with information about Echo’s current circumstances.

- "You must protect the ipsium case!"

- Even though he’s the one who told Wrecker to cover the ipsium, and he’s not too happy with him right now, he’s still clearly nervous for his brother.

- Tech: "I would advise not dropping it next time."

Wrecker: "Why don't you carry it?"

Tech: "Fine." ❤

- “Well. That would certainly explain the stampede.” He says as he looks up at the storm in terror.

- Can we just appreciate how strong Tech is? He's running with that huge case like it's nothing. ❤

- Tech: “So. Now we are trapped. And we have lost all of our ipsium.”

Wrecker: "Well, I- I suppose that's my fault too?"

Tech: "Well, technically, yes." Tech’s sass makes a glorious reappearance (even if he's not completely right here). ❤

- Tech may seem like a lot right now, but the Marauder was really special to him, too. He'd put every bit of himself into all those modifications and spent hours finding the best ways to repair it quickly. It only makes sense that he would be frustrated after losing it.

- The fact that he’s moving rocks that huge is crazy. Seriously, we don’t give him enough credit for how strong he is.

- "We can always acquire another ship." …Optimism? (He's trying to convince himself as much as Omega. This is his thought process to calm himself about the situation, so he thinks it's the right approach for her, too.)

- He looks surprised and a tiny bit concerned at Omega’s outburst about the Marauder being their home.

- He looks a little hurt when Omega throws the datapad back at him. Sorry, dear, but you kind of deserved that.

- He just goes back to moving rocks because he doesn't know what else to do. But you can see that he knows what he did was wrong. He just doesn’t know how to fix it in the moment. So he makes himself useful.

- Even though Tech and Wrecker aren’t getting along, they still automatically step in to help each other.

- "Fine. Since losing the mineral was my mistake, I will search for any potential extractions within this mine." Taking responsibility! ❤

- "Very well." He's not looking forward to talking to Omega. He loves her, but he knows he's not good at this kind of interaction.

- That little pause before going to talk to Omega. He's nervous about saying the wrong thing again.

- His voice gets so soft when he says her name that second time. Now he can really see how much he upset her, because she's doing what he would do. Throwing herself into a task to distract herself. ❤

- He’s nervous about Omega being surrounded by so much ipsium.

- Omega came up with the same idea as him. Tech must be proud.

- He trusts her to get the ipsium and knows she is capable.

- That tiny smile when she agrees to get more ipsium. This is progress!

- He immediately rushes over when he sees she’s about to fall and his face gets so panicked when he sees her dangling over the edge. ❤

- NOT HESITATING TO JUMP INTO THE DARKNESS AFTER OMEGA. ❤

- You can see him grab his nose right before he hits the water, and I don’t know why, but that’s cute to me. Maybe because I always have to do the same thing if I ever go underwater.

- He grabs onto Omega to make sure she doesn’t drown. ❤

- He looks genuinely terrified as the current drags them away. But you can see him constantly looking back at Omega. He’s more afraid for her than he is for himself.

- Shaking the water out of his goggles was cute. I really want to see him take them off so I can see his handsome face without them. ❤

- “We took an unforeseen detour, but we are alive.” 

- Hunter: “Where are you?”

Tech: “That… is a good question. Stand by.”

- He keeps looking over at Omega to make sure she’s okay. ❤

- He’s just looking at (admiring?) the glowing water before he gets up to follow Omega. Just like he was staring up at the stars back in Clone Wars. Does he like shiny things? ❤

- He acknowledges that Omega was responsible for getting the ipsium that will make a way out for them, subtly praising her work.

- He didn’t have to sit next to Omega while he waited for the others, but he sat down right next to her. He even reassures her that they’ll be out soon.

- “We will figure out a solution, as we always do.” ❤

- “I… am not sure how I should care about change. It is a fundamental part of life.” ❤

- When Omega brings up Echo, Tech puts his hand down next to her. It’s like he wants to comfort her, but isn’t feeling up to touching her just yet. ❤

- “I… am aware that you miss him, but we have to adapt and move on. That is what soldiers do.” ❤

- He didn’t just agree when Omega said they’re a family. He said, “Of course we are.” He even leans closer when he says it. ❤

- I love how they really made him pause and think about his answer when Omega asks why he doesn’t act like they’re a family. He’s genuinely taken aback and knows he needs to get this right. It's difficult for him to explain.

- “Echo chose a different path. As did Crosshair. I have to respect their decision. Even though it can be difficult to understand, we must carry on.” I LOVE that Tech brought up Crosshair! He misses his brother so much! ❤

- “I may process moments and thoughts differently, but it does not mean that I feel any less than you.” This makes me feel so many things. I feel like crying because this conversation is so needed and sweet. I feel overjoyed because we’re finally getting a glimpse into Tech’s emotional side. ❤

- “If the shot is not precise, it will cause another cave-in.” He’s the steadiest shot after Crosshair. I bet they used to hang out at the range. Like, maybe he used to not be as good, and Crosshair was like, "no squadmate of mine is going to struggle with a blaster. Come on, we're training." And that's why they're as close as they are. ❤

- Tech and Omega are BONDED now!

- That little look he shares with Omega when they’re looking up at the array.

- He’s not taking any of Cid’s crap. He’s like “Oh, no, you don’t; you owe us.”

- His smile when Omega repeats his words and says that they’ll figure it out. ❤

[kimberleysong]

Field research au by @chocobje

Ayy more of these but the role are reverse (also a great excuse to make mag fully twisted

Also fun fact Cory full name is Cory chase but some toon called him ranger bc he's a ranger

Here are the mechanic for twisted mag if ya wanna read-

So mag here classified as lethal twisted I mean his arch nemesis is a lethal so it's make sense that he is lethal in a way also there a specific way to summon mag it's the opposite of dandy run you need to buy as much as you can till dandy say "thank you for keeping buying my stuff!"

Mag will disguise himself as a passive twisted (Connie, glisten,rnd and rodger) each toon he's disguise is unique in a way the research capsule will also be fakeish?? Instead of saying it's mag it'll be saying the passive twisted listed and the text will glitching to Maggie and back to the passive twisted

Glisten:the text that implied glisten is here will glitch if you near twisted glisten he will say "thank you" then it will glitch to red and say "for you TIME" Then turn into twisted mag

Connie:will spawn and extra machine and if you extract the wrong machine mag will burst out of the machine and tried to grab you

Rnd: basically the same but if you step into the ribbon it'll trigger automatically even if you don't run won't spawn near machine and item won't spawn near the circle

Rodger: basically the same as rodger

Bonus Cory:he will remain passive and just sit there he won't attack you

If you trigger mag he will roam around the map like a regular twisted if he spot you again he will shot you with his Lazer and also the sound of del flowazer (idk how to spell)or to keep it simple play some piano will play

How to spot the imposter:if the twisted is glitching it's mag-

[rottenpumpkin13]

You know what..? I want a rundown of Genesis doing a mission disguised in full drag. We have been teased for too long 😂 x

Things That Happen When Genesis Wears A Dress

• Sephiroth and Lazard are going over a mission plan one day, strategizing and seeing what's the best course of action to take. Apparently someone is leaking SOLDIER information to their enemies and the suspect is someone within the company.

Sephiroth: I could conduct an interrogation to extract information from our target. Would torture work?

Lazard: No. We don't even know who he is exactly. Attempting to apprehend him in public could escalate tensions significantly.

Sephiroth: Then what alternative do you suggest?

Lazard: I'd say the best thing to do is to employ seduction to elicit the necessary information from him. He's only a man, after all.

Sephiroth: I refuse to sleep with him.

Lazard: NO. Not you. I meant we need someone pretty.

Sephiroth, offended: Oh, I'm sorry. Am I not attractive?

Lazard: I meant someone with breasts, Sephiroth.

Sephiroth: You're implying that mine aren't good enough.

Lazard: For fucks sake. I mean someone with long hair, an appealing physique, perhaps a small waist.

Sephiroth: You're describing me.

Lazard: I MEAN A WOMAN.

Sephiroth: But this mission must be conducted by a SOLDIER First Class. There are no women in First Class.

Lazard: No, but there is someone who just as appealing who can fit in a dress and heels. Do you understand what I'm implying?

Sephiroth: Of course. You think I would look appealing in a dress. I'm flattered.

Lazard: Sephiroth get out of my office.

Genesis: So let me get this straight—

Sephiroth: Mission failed. 

Genesis: Shut up. Let me get this straight: you think just because I'm queer and have a theatric flair to my personality, I'm automatically down to cross dress? 

Angeal: Gen, it's just for one night. We'll be right there with you. All you have to do is attend the party, find the informant, find the target, flirt with him, get him drunk, and convince him to give you the information 

Genesis: And you assume I have the experience? Why?

Sephiroth: Because the last package that came in for you was a box of lace corsets, addressed to Genevieve. 

Genesis: Do not presume to question my actions.

• They arrive at the event, which is a party hosted by Rufus Shinra in the event area of the HQ. Angeal and Sephiroth turn heads, not because they're who they are, but because they have a stunning woman in a red dress with them. 

Angeal: We should split up to look for the informant. Lazard said he would be wearing a blue carnival mask. 

Sephiroth: When one of us finds him, we'll signal to each other, and Genesis if you get to him first make sure to let us know. 

Genesis: Do my breasts look authentic to you? 

*Sephiroth looks down at them* 

*Genesis slaps him* 

Sephiroth: !?

Genesis: How dare you.

• Genesis is walking around the party looking for the target when he runs into (literally) the worst thing to stumble upon when you're wearing stilettos, an evening dress and a hot wig. 

Zack: Good evening, miss!

Genesis: For fucks sake. 

Zack: I don't think we've met before. Do you work for the company?

Genesis:

Zack:

Genesis: Do you not...do you not recognize⏤you know what? I don't have time for this. *he tries to pass, Zack holds him back* 

Zack: Can I be honest with you? You're the most charming woman I've ever seen. Your beauty is indescribable.

Genesis: I'm flattered, but unfortunately I'm in a hurry—*he tries to pass again, Zack holds him back again* 

Zack: I can't possibly let you leave without knowing your name. 

Genesis: Uh... Genevieve.

Zack: Genevieve! Do you wanna dance?

Genesis, panicking: I have a boyfriend. 

Zack: He can be disposed of. 

Genesis: HEH!?

Zack: I mean I'm sure he won't mind. Come on! It's just one dance!

*Zack leads Genesis to the dance floor before he can protest* 

• Sephiroth finds the informant, who just as Lazard said, would be wearing a blue carnival mask. 

Sephiroth: ...........

Informant, who's definitely not Lazard in disguise: Greetings. 

Sephiroth: Director, what are you—

Informant: I have no idea what you're talking about. Lazard Deusericus and I have been in contact. I assume you understand why I need to conceal my identity. 

Sephiroth: You're wearing the cufflinks I got you for Christmas. 

Informant: You must have me mistaken for someone else. Now, my sources tell me your target's name is Sufur and he's wearing white. 

Sephiroth: 

Informant (not Lazard): 

Sephiroth: Is this a joke of some kind? 

Informant: What do you mean? 

Sephiroth: Are there cameras filming me right now? You're insinuating that Rufus Shinra is the one leaking information on SOLDIER? 

Informant: No, I just told you that his name is Sufur. 

Sephiroth: Lazard—

Informant: Who's Lazard? My name is Drazal. 

Sephiroth: Good grief. 

*Zack approaches Tseng, Reno and Rufus with Genesis on his arm*

Genesis: Oh no.

Zack: Hey guys, this is my date for the night, Genevieve.

Tseng: What the fuck

Reno: Hot damn.

Rufus: Mind your language around the lady, gentlemen.

Tseng: Lady?? This Commander Rhapsodos in a dress.

Zack: Tseng! That's horrible!

Rufus: Apologize to miss Genevieve at once. I won't stand here and listen to you insult this gorgeous young woman.

Reno: Yeah, Tseng! How can you stand there and insult the hottest woman I've ever seen?

Tseng: I'm fairly certain this is a man.

*Reno punches Tseng in the face*

Tseng, shocked: !?

Zack: Thanks, Reno.

Reno: Any time, man,

Tseng: This is why Veld left us.

*Zack and Genesis are dancing when Sephiroth interrupts them by putting a hand on Genesis' arm* 

Zack: Uhh...Sephiroth, what are you doing?

Sephiroth: I came to tell you. *he turns to Genesis* It turns out Rufus is our target. 

Zack: Ah, I see what this is. 

Genesis: You do?

Zack: Of course. Sephiroth is the boyfriend you claimed to be involved with. And now he's here to try to take you away from me. 

Sephiroth & Genesis: WHAT? 

Zack: You won’t get away with this. I challenge you to a duel for her hand. 

Sephiroth: Zack, I'm not about to fight you for Gen⏤ACK!

*Zack pulls Sephiroth by the hair and tackles him. This angers Sephiroth greatly. The two end up on the ground fist-fighting. Genesis should intervene and put an end to it, but the scene is so ridiculous, he can only stand there in shock.

*Angeal returns*

Angeal: You’re not gonna believe this. I talked to some people and found out that our target is an ex-Third Class with a grudge. I called HQ and got him taken in for questioning. 

*Zack is actively choking Sephiroth in the background. Zack screams "SHE LOVES ME, NOT YOU" Sephiroth responds with "HE HAS POSTERS OF ME ON HIS WALL. THAT'S A CLEAR INDICATOR OF HIS DEVOTION TO ME*

Genesis: Oh goddess.

*Rufus notices that they're fighting over Genesis. He joins the fight, dragging Zack away from Sephiroth. Now all three of them are arguing. Rufus screams: "YOU GENTLEMEN ARE HARDLY FIT TO HAVE HER HAND IN MARRIAGE. I PLAN ON TAKING HER TO MEET MY FATHER"*

Angeal: Yeah, and get this: I found Lazard here at the party too, and he was under the impression that Rufus was the rat. He was in disguise and everything, trying to blame Rufus for the whole thing. 

*Sephiroth screams: "YOU'LL SOONER TAKE HER TO MEET GLENN IN THE AFTERLIFE" and punches Rufus in the gut*

Genesis: This entire night is a mess. I wore a corset and heels for nothing. 

*Sephiroth pulls out Masamune and now him and Zack are dueling. Rufus pulls out his gun and is aiming it at them both. All three of them are screaming at each other*

Angeal: Unfortunately, yeah. 

*Reno, upon noticing that they're fighting over Genesis, appears with a fire extinguisher and knocks Rufus out before he can do anything*

Genesis: This was such a waste of a good look. 

*It appears Rufus is unresponsive. Now Sephiroth, Reno and Zack are arguing over what to do. Reno screams "I CALL DIBS ON THE PRETTY REDHEAD" Sephiroth replies with "YOUR DIBS ARE INVALID IF YOU'VE JUST KILLED A MAN" Zack says "HEY! ANGEAL IS TALKING TO HER RIGHT NOW!"

Angeal: Would it make you feel better if I took you out to dinner?

*Sephiroth and Reno tackle Angeal before Genesis can respond*

Genesis: ..........

Zack: Man, if Genesis were here right now he'd never believe this.

[anitalianfrie]

So. You once believed tumblr to be your safe space, your archive, your goldmine. Instead, thanks to "unforseen" circumstances (fuck you dorna), you now fear for the safety and integrity of your blog and you want to know if there's a quick way to download a lot of posts without having to do it manually (I spent half an hour yesterday doing it. Do not recommend)

Fret not my child, and welcome to

How to save the posts under a whole tag in five easy steps!

Needed preface: while this method works great for images, videos, and gifs, the same thing cannot be said for text post, which will be saved in unreadable html. I mean, you can always feed the file to a compiler, I guess. Or painstakingly copy paste everything on word. Maybe it could work on ao3 too, actually, I should check.

ANYWAYS.

Step 1: go here, and download the zip file. Once you've done it, extract it, open it, and run the program, that inside the folder will look like

this. (the one in the centre. so that we're all on the same page)

Step 2: once you've done it, you'll run to me saying "cate anitalianfrie, this graphic interface looks like a relic from the nineties!" to which I'll answer, yes, but it works and that's all that matters. Then, you'll open the settings (gear on the botton right of the page) , go to the page named "blog" and where you see the option "tags" put the tag you want to download the content from.

(it's located in the bottom right section of the page)

the space will be blank. put the tag without the "#", and with the spaces.

if you want to download from more than one tag at a time, you can! just beware that it's not an intersection of the two tags (aka: not downloading the post that have both tags) but a union (aka: WILL download posts with one, the other or both tags). if that's still fine by you, put a "," between a tag and the other (ex: "my gif, cate.txt").

SAVE BEFORE CLOSING THE SETTINGS

Step 3(optional): the program automatically saves in the folder blog inside the folder your program is in. if you wish to change this, go to the "general" page of the setting. at the top, you'll see this:

go to browse and select the floder you want to put your posts in. (ps. obviously your download location will be different than mine. i've already changed it. the standard would have been C:\User\your_username\wherever_you_extracted_the_zip\Blogs)

SAVE BEFORE CLOSING THE SETTINGS

Step 4: past the link of your blog as https://www.your_blog_name.tumblr.com or https://www.tumblr.com/your_blog_name (ex: https://www.anitalianfrie.tumblr.com, https://www.tumblr.com/anitalianfrie) in the little space down on the left,

and press "add blog" on its right

Step 5: click two times on the blog (it now should be at the top of the page) and click "download"

And voilà you're all set! Wait for the machine to finish the crawl and enjoy your newly downloaded content

[genshin-impact-updates]

"Summertide Scales and Tales" Version 4.8 Update Details

Dear Traveler,

Below are the details of the Version 4.8 update "Summertide Scales and Tales" and the update compensation.

〓Compensation Details〓

Maintenance Compensation: Primogems ×300 (60 Primogems per hour the servers are down)

Bug Fix Compensation for the issue whereby Neuvillette could rotate at an unusually high speed when casting his Charged Attack, resulting in an abnormal attack range: Primogems ×100

Issue Fix Compensation: Primogems ×300 (please refer to the relevant compensation mail for more details)

〓Scope of Compensation〓

Maintenance Compensation: Travelers who have reached Adventure Rank 5 or above by 2024/07/17 06:00 (UTC+8).

Compensation must be claimed before the end of Version 4.8.

Bug Fix Compensation for the issue whereby Neuvillette could rotate at an unusually high speed when casting his Charged Attack, resulting in an abnormal attack range and other issue fix compensation: Travelers who have reached Adventure Rank 5 or above by 2024/07/17 06:00 (UTC+8).

Please log in and claim your compensation before 2024/07/20 06:00 (UTC+8).

Our developers will distribute compensation to Travelers via in-game mail within 5 hours after the update maintenance is finished. The mail will expire after 30 days, so don't forget to claim the attached compensation in time.

〓Update Schedule〓

Update maintenance begins 2024/07/17 06:00 (UTC+8) and is estimated to take 5 hours.

〓How to Update Game Client〓

PC: Close the game, open the Genshin Impact Launcher, and click Update.

iOS: Open the App Store and tap Update.

Android: Open the game and follow the directions on-screen.

PS5™ and PS4™: Highlight Genshin Impact from the Home Screen, press the OPTIONS button and select "Check for Update."

Please do not hesitate to contact Customer Service if you encounter any issues installing the new version. We will do our very best to resolve the issue.

〓Update Details〓

I. Limited-Time Area: Simulanka (This area is only available during Version 4.8)

Simulanka

After perusing the book sent as a gift by a mysterious person, you visit a fairytale world named "Simulanka." Like many classic stories, the prophecies of the goddesses were fulfilled one by one with the arrival of visitors from another world. The hero and their companions thus embark on a journey to defeat the evil dragon...

※ As long as you have completed Archon Quest Prologue: Act III "Song of the Dragon and Freedom" and teleport to the limited-time area "Simulanka" through the Story Quest "Summertide Scales and Tales," a Teleport Waypoint will be automatically unlocked in the "Forest of Blessings" located in this area. You'll also receive the Primogem reward for this Teleport Waypoint when it unlocks automatically.

◇ Area Unlock Criteria:

• Reach Adventure Rank 18 or above

• Complete the Archon Quest "Song of the Dragon and Freedom"

◆ Simulanka will no longer be accessible after the end of Version 4.8. You will also no longer be able to open treasure chests, gather materials, or earn quest rewards in Simulanka, so grab the opportunity to explore away!

II. New Character

5-Star Character "A Thousand Scents Traced" Emilie (Dendro)

◇ Vision: Dendro

◇ Weapon: Polearm

◇ A Fontainian perfumer, one who bottles secrets.

◆ Elemental Skill: Fragrance Extraction

◆ Creates a Lumidouce Case that fires Puffs of Puredew at nearby opponents at intervals, dealing Dendro DMG. When nearby opponents are affected by Burning, they will give off Scents. The Lumidouce Case collects nearby Scents and after collecting a certain amount, its level will increase, increasing the quantity and DMG of Puffs of Puredew.

◆ Elemental Burst: Aromatic Explication

◆ Stows existing Lumidouce Cases and creates a Level 3 Lumidouce Case. The Level 3 Lumidouce Case will continuously cause Scented Dew to descend, attacking opponents within range and dealing Dendro DMG. When the duration ends, the Lumidouce Case reverts to Level 1, or it inherits the level and number of collected Scents from the previously stored Lumidouce Case.

III. New Equipment

New Weapon (Examples based on Refinement Rank 1)

Lumidouce Elegy (5-Star Polearm)

ATK increased by 15%. When the equipping character triggers Burning on an opponent or deals Dendro DMG to Burning opponents, the DMG dealt is increased by 18%. This effect lasts for 8s, max 2 stacks. When 2 stacks are reached or when the duration is refreshed at 2 stacks, restore 12 Energy. Energy can be restored this way once every 12s. The 2 aforementioned effects can be triggered even when the character is off-field.

◆ During the event wish "Epitome Invocation," the event-exclusive 5-star weapon Lumidouce Elegy (Polearm) will receive a huge drop-rate boost!

IV. New Outfits

Nilou: Breeze of Sabaa

◇ An elegant outfit for Nilou, this featherweight dress is seemingly woven of countless flowers, and with it drifts a light fragrance like the east wind at dawn, carrying beauteous blessings from a fairytale land.

◆ Between the start of the Version 4.8 update and 2024/08/26 03:59, Nilou's outfit "Breeze of Sabaa" will be available for purchase in the Character Outfit Shop at a limited-time discount! During the discount period, the price of the outfit is 1,350 Genesis Crystals. The price will revert to 1,680 Genesis Crystals after the limited-time discount ends. The outfit can only be purchased once.

Kirara: Phantom in Boots

◇ Kirara's outfit. The swashbuckling feline of fairytale fame, the crafty courier of dearly-held dreams... is pleased to make your acquaintance!

◆ In Version 4.8, you will be able to get Kirara's outfit "Phantom in Boots" for free by participating in the limited-time "Summertide Scales and Tales" event.

◆ After Version 4.8 is over, Travelers can buy the outfit in the Character Outfit Shop.

V. New Main Story

New Story Quest

Emilie's Story Quest - Pomum de Ambra Chapter: Act I "Floral Debt, Blood Due"

Permanently available after 2024/08/06 18:00

◆ Quest Unlock Criteria:

• Reach Adventure Rank 40 or above

• Complete Archon Quest Chapter IV: Act V "Masquerade of the Guilty"

New World Quests

New Limited-Time World Quests

"The Lotus Leaf and the Champion," "The Forest and the Princess," "The Answer of the Lotus Leaves and Forest," "Narration Footnotes," "Text's Coda," and "Towards the Lighthouse, or Far Away"

VI. New Gameplay

New Gameplay: Envisaged Echoes

In this gameplay mode, each challenge corresponds to a designated character and has its own independent challenge mode.

To participate in the challenge stages, this corresponding character must be Lv. 90, and their Friendship Level must be at least 8.

After completing "Envisaged Echoes" challenges, you will gain the corresponding character's Echo cosmetic rewards.

◇ Unlock Criteria:

• Reach Adventure Rank 35 or above

• Complete and finalize a combat performance in Act 6 or higher of the Imaginarium Theater

For details on the gameplay rules, please see: "Envisaged Echoes" Permanent High Difficulty Challenge Gameplay Details.

VII. Other Update Details

New Recipe:

○ Hotel Debord, Fontaine: Fricassee de Poulet

New Character Specialty Dish:

○ Emilie's specialty: A Fragrant Feast of Flavors

Adds Set 33 of "Paimon's Paintings" chat emojis.

Adds some prompts for loading screens.

New Namecards:

"Emilie: Base Note": Reward for reaching Friendship Lv. 10 with Emilie

"Travel Notes: Fanciful Fabrication": Reward obtained via the BP system

New "Hide UI" function: You can enable/disable it in the "Settings > Other" menu (you can also enable/disable it using specific shortcuts on PC). When enabled, the main interface will hide UI elements such as map and party information.

New functions in the Dialogue Screen:

(1) "Dialogue Review": You can open the "Dialogue Review" interface while playing through the story to view the dialogue records for this segment of the story or listen to the voice-overs again.

(2) "Hide Dialogue Screen": You can hide the dialogue screen while playing through the story.

"Genius Invokation TCG" Gameplay Update:

New Character Cards: Chevreuse, Navia, and their corresponding Talent cards. Corresponding invitation duels and guest challenges have been added to the Player List.

New Character Card: Frost Operative and their corresponding Talent card. The Tavern Challenge has also been added.

New Action Cards: "Ultimate Overlord's Mega Magic Sword," "Prospector's Drill," "Gladiator's Triumphus," "Serene," "I'd Rather Lose Money Myself...," and "Tada!" can be purchased from Prince at The Cat's Tail.

The Forge Realm's Temper is once again available. The theme of this edition is "The Forge Realm's Temper: Endless Swarm":

(1) Defeat endless waves of enemies during the rounds in "The Forge Realm's Temper: Endless Swarm" to accrue score.

(2) After you complete the stage battle, you will gain a score and the corresponding rewards based on the highest score you got in the stage.

(3) Different stages will contain different special rules that grant buffs. Use these rules well to fight more effectively.

Imaginarium Theater

After the Version 4.8 update, the new season of "Imaginarium Theater" will be available on 2024/08/01 04:00.

Required Elemental Types: Hydro, Cryo, and Anemo

Opening Characters: Furina, Barbara, Kamisato Ayaka, Diona, Xiao, and Faruzan

When Imaginarium Theater is open, the corresponding Opening Characters will obtain Fantastical Blessings.

Special Guest Stars: Emilie, Dehya, Nahida, and Xiangling

After the new season of Imaginarium Theater begins, the characters Kaeya, Kaveh, Yoimiya, and Yelan will each gain a new "Thespian Trick" that can be exchanged from the NPC Wolfy.

In addition, in order to optimize the experience of obtaining Principal Cast during the gameplay, after the new season of Imaginarium Theater begins, the following adjustments will be made:

(1) Adjusts the initial Fantasia Flowers provided from 100 to 160 when starting a challenge in Hard Mode.

(2) After completing a performance, you can select one of two characters when obtaining a new Principal Cast (prior to the adjustment, the corresponding mechanic will grant a Principal Cast without providing options in the default state without gaining specific performance buffs).

(3) Optimizes the refresh mechanic of Performance Events.

Spiral Abyss

Floor 11 Ley Line Disorder changed to:

• All characters in the party gain a 75% Dendro DMG Bonus.

Updated the monster lineup on Floors 11 – 12 of the Spiral Abyss.

Starting from the first time that the Lunar Phase refreshes after updating to Version 4.8, the Lunar Phases will be as follows:

Searing Moon

When characters attack Burning opponents, their CRIT Rate is increased by 15% and their CRIT DMG is increased by 30%.

〓Adjustments & Optimizations〓

● Open World

Now, after defeating the boss "Lupus Boreas, Dominator of Wolves," Trounce Blossom rewards not collected will only disappear after he respawns.

Adjusts the respawn time for boss enemies in the open world, with the exception of "Lupus Boreas, Dominator of Wolves," from 5 minutes to 10 seconds (After the respawn timer ends, Travelers need to teleport to another area and return, and the relevant enemies will respawn).

Adjusts the respawn time for certain harvestables from 48 hours to 46 hours.

Adjusts the unlock condition for the "Lower World Level" function from World Level 5 to World Level 3 (you can choose to lower the World Level upon reaching World Level 3).

Adds an option at World Level 3 to 6 to lower the World Level on the relevant prompt interface when all party members are defeated by enemies during exploration in the open world.

● Quests

Reduces the difficulty of the "Anti-Raiden Shogun Training"-related quest objective in the Archon Quest "The Familiar's Path."

Reduces the difficulty of the challenge gameplay related to the Story Quest "License to Glide" and "Mondstadt Glider."

Optimizes the refresh logic for Commission Quests: Commission Quests that have their scenes occupied by other quests will not refresh and appear. However, Commission Quests with unfinished achievements are not affected by this refresh rule and will still appear.

Certain quests that can unlock systems will have a new special icon on the Quest Menu.

● Domains

Adjusts the enemy placements and certain Ley Line Disorders in the Domains "Forsaken Rift," "Cecilia Garden," "Peak of Vindagnyr," "Hidden Palace of Zhou Formula," "Clear Pool and Mountain Cavern," "Hidden Palace of Lianshan Formula," "Domain of Guyun," and "Taishan Mansion" to reduce the challenge difficulty of these domains.

Unlocked Domains can be used as Teleport Waypoints even if Travelers have yet to reach the Adventure Rank required to challenge the Domain.

After Travelers reach Adventure Rank 10 or have completed the quest "Knights of Favonius" of the Archon Quest Prologue: Act I "The Outlander Who Caught the Wind," you can unlock all Domains of Blessing, Domains of Mastery, and Domains of Forgery, with the exception of Midsummer Courtyard (There are no specific unlock criteria for Domain of Blessing "Midsummer Courtyard").

After defeating the "Enemy of Note" in the "Trounce Domain," if Travelers leave without claiming the reward, the game will display a second confirmation pop-up.

● Adventure Encounters

Once you have reached your daily Encounter Point limit, any further Points gained will be converted to Long-Term Encounter Points. Long-Term Encounter Points will not be cleared the next day and can be stored until the next Version x.0.

Travelers can convert accumulated Long-Term Encounter Points into usable Encounter Points through consuming Original Resin.

a. The number of Encounter Points obtained from completing Archon Quests, Character Story Quests, and Hangout Events has been increased.

b The number of Encounter Points obtained from completing World Quests, Story Quests from Limited-Time Events, and collecting event rewards has been decreased.

c. Completing World Quests that begin Limited-Time Events, the Afterword World Quests from Limited-Time Events, and City Reputation: Requests will no longer give Encounter Points.

● System

Adds an interaction using the spacebar on the "Cooking" interface (when using a keyboard and mouse as control devices).

In the "Spiral Abyss" character selection interface, you can now drag characters to adjust their position within the party lineup.

Adds the filter option for "Astral Mark Status" in certain characters' interface.

When you have sufficient offerings to level up offering-related systems (such as the "Statue of The Seven" or "Fountain of Lucine"), clicking on the icon of the relevant system on the map will display an offering prompt.

Adds a new setting in the "General Settings" of the "Artifact Auto-Lock" function. When enabled, for Artifacts with 3 Minor Affixes, the locked plan will consider conditions like "Includes any 2/3/4 of the following Minor Affixes" will be treated as "Includes any 1/2/3 of the following Minor Affixes."

● Genius Invokation TCG

Optimizes the descriptions and previews of related effects for certain cards.

Shortens the display time of some card effects.

Optimizes the description of the Support Card "Kusava": In the description "Discard a maximum of 2 cards with the highest Elemental Dice Cost in your Hand," "cards with the highest Elemental Dice Cost in your Hand" will be adjusted to "cards with the highest original Elemental Dice Cost in your Hand."

Optimizes the Action Phase time calculation logic in Co-Op matches: The Action Phase time limit will no longer be a fixed amount and will be extended depending on how many card effects Travelers trigger.

● Other

Optimizes the text descriptions for certain effects and events in "Imaginarium Theater."

When characters are in the Theater Lobby of "Imaginarium Theater," the Paimon Menu can now be accessed.

After the Version 4.8 update, users who have not used the "Past Quest Resource Management" feature and have mobile devices that have resources that can be deleted will receive a one-time red dot notification.

For some discrete graphics cards that do not support the "Dynamic Character Resolution" visual effect, the "Dynamic Character Resolution" option will no longer appear in the "Settings > Graphics" of the game.

Adds a "Compatibility Mode" option to the "Settings > Graphics" tab on the game login screen.

Adjusts the order of certain quests in "Adventurer Handbook" > "Experience."

Adds a shortcut button to navigate to the Adventurer Handbook on the "Adventure EXP and Adventure Rank" interface.

In the "Battle Pass/Gnostic Hymn" interface, the slider at the bottom of the interface now supports the click-to-position function.

Optimizes the user experience of each list interface:

a. When switching or refreshing lists, the previously selected or scrolled position will be retained.

b. Optimizes the scrolling speed of lists.

c. Optimizes the rules for displaying red dots in lists.

〓Bug Fixes〓

● Quests

Fixes an issue whereby Sorush could not be used in certain locations after entering the "Defiled Chamber" in the World Quest "The Hymn of Tir Yazad."

Fixes an issue whereby the position of character portraits displayed may be abnormal in Clorinde's Story Quest when the text in the text boxes are too long.

● Enemies

Fixes an issue whereby damage numbers had a chance of not displaying when certain skills of Ruin Automatons inflicted damage on Ley Line Monoliths.

Fixes an issue whereby Specters could have 0 HP but could not be defeated under specific circumstances.

● Characters

Fixes an issue whereby characters' skills had no CD and skill performance was abnormal under certain circumstances.

Fixes an issue whereby some characters' recovery time after being hit was abnormal.

Fixes an issue whereby after Arlecchino casts a Charged Attack and moves rapidly after the button is Held, the character would be down abnormally after falling from a low altitude when her Stamina is expended.

Fixes an issue whereby the Wanderer would remain abnormally in a state of levitation after he expends "Kuugoryoku" under certain circumstances.

Fixes an issue whereby Neuvillette could rotate at an unusually high speed when casting his Charged Attack, resulting in an abnormal attack range under specific circumstances.

● Weapons

Fixes an issue whereby there was a chance that the positions of the special effects of the weapon "Uraku Misugiri" would be incorrect after being equipped by different characters.

● Audio

Fixes an issue whereby testing voice-over resources were incorrectly used for some of Sethos's Chinese voice-overs in the cutscene animation of Cyno's Story Quest Lupus Aureus Chapter: Act II "Oathkeeper" (This resource was not recorded by Chinese voice actor Lanling Li).

Fixes an issue whereby there is a chance that the sound effects of character movement would be missing when Clorinde moves in the water.

Fixes an issue whereby the sound effects could be abnormal when Gaming joined the party on the "Party Setup" interface.

Fixes an issue whereby there were errors with the Chinese voice-overs during some quests.

● System

Fixes an image error in the "Raiden Shogun" avatar.

Fixes an issue whereby you are unable to access the corresponding scene if you teleport to the Theater Lobby and select "Leave for Now" during the Spiral Abyss challenge.

Fixes an issue in the Spiral Abyss whereby the skill cooldown of the party in the second half would not reset after selecting "Retry Challenge."

Fixes an issue in Co-Op Mode that caused musical instrument gadgets used by guest characters to disappear abnormally under certain circumstances.

Fixes an issue whereby the sorting of Artifacts in the "Inventory > Artifacts" interface would appear incorrectly under certain circumstances after the Version 4.7 update.

Fixes an issue with incorrect Exploration Progress calculation in certain regions. After the version update, Exploration Progress for some Travelers may increase.

Fixes an issue whereby it was possible to use "Thespian Tricks" that had yet to be obtained on the "Photo" interface under certain circumstances.

● Genius Invokation TCG

Fixes an issue whereby the Character Card "Wriothesley" was unable to trigger the effect "If the character has no more than 5 HP" related to the state "Chilling Penalty" during the Action Phase if his HP is 5 or less due to the Combat Status "Burst Scan."

Fixes an issue whereby the Character Cards "Consecrated Scorpion," "Consecrated Flying Serpent," and "Guardian of Apep's Oasis" were unable to use their Talent Cards when frozen.

Fixes an issue with the text description of the Combat Status "Deep Devourer's Domain" of the Character Card "All-Devouring Narwhal" in other languages.

Fixes an issue whereby the Usages of the All-Devouring Narwhal's "Dark Shadow" Summon was incorrectly deducted if your Character Card took damage and was knocked out at the same time.

Fixes an issue whereby the Usages of the Combat Status "Flying Cloud Flag Formation" was not reduced after the Character Card "Neuvillette" casts "Equitable Judgment" to trigger the damage bonus of the Combat Status "Flying Cloud Flag Formation."

● Other

Fixes an issue whereby after completing a performance in the Imaginarium Theater, the finalization screen would only appear after some characters attacked.

Fixes an issue whereby when selecting "Restart Performance" after a successful performance in the "Imaginarium Theater," the selected party lineups will not be recorded.

Fixes an issue whereby a Domain Entrance interaction point would appear abnormally within Mondstadt.

Fixes some text errors in certain languages and optimizes text. (Note: Related in-game functions have not changed. Travelers can view the changes in different languages by going to the Paimon Menu > Settings > Language and changing the Game Language.)

◆ Optimizes inconsistencies between certain voice-overs and the corresponding lines.

◆ Optimizes certain English translations.

〓Genius Invokation TCG Balance Adjustment〓

Adjusts the effect of Event Card "Bonecruncher's Energy Block" of the Character Card "Consecrated Beast": Removes the effect "If your active character is a Consecrated Beast, then they gain 1 Energy."

Adjusts the effect of the Elemental Skill of the Character Card "Consecrated Flying Serpent": This effect will be adjusted to "Deal 3 Anemo DMG and draw 1 card."

Adjusts the effect of the Combat Status "Flying Cloud Flag Formation" of the Character Card "Yun Jin": Removes the effect "Deal +1 DMG."

Adjusts the effect of the Talent Card "Decorous Harmony" of the Character Card "Yun Jin": The effect "When Yun Jin, who has this card equipped, is on the field, and if you have no cards in your Hand, Flying Cloud Flag Formation will cause your Normal Attack to deal +2 additional DMG." will be adjusted to "When Yun Jin, who has this card equipped, is on the field, and you trigger Flying Cloud Flag Formation: If you have no cards in your Hand, this Skill deals +2 additional DMG."

Adjusts the effect of the Combat Status "Burst Scan" of the Character Card "Kaveh": "After this, deal Dendro DMG equal to the original Elemental Dice Cost of the card you Discard +1" will be adjusted to "After this, deal Dendro DMG equal to the original Elemental Dice Cost of the card you Discard."

Adjusts the effect of the Elemental Skill of the Character Card "All-Devouring Narwhal": The effect "Deals 1 Hydro DMG. This character deals +1 DMG for every 3 extra max HP provided by Insatiable Appetite (Max +5)" will be adjusted to "(Max +4)."

Adjusts the effect of the Elemental Burst of the Character Card "Lisa": Adds the effect "attach Conductive to the opponent's active character."

Adjusts the Elemental Burst DMG of the Character Card "Kaedehara Kazuha": Anemo DMG dealt will be adjusted from 3 to 1.

Adjusts the Elemental Skill DMG of the Character Card "Kaedehara Kazuha": Anemo DMG dealt will be adjusted from 3 to 1.

Adjusts the effect of the status "Midare Ranzan" of the Character Card "Kaedehara Kazuha": The effect will be adjusted to "The next time you use Switch Character to switch to the character to which this is attached: This switch is considered a Fast Action rather than a Combat Action. Before you choose an action: If the character to which this is attached is your active character, they immediately use a Normal Attack. The Physical DMG this Normal Attack would deal is converted to Anemo DMG. Once finalized, this effect is removed."

Adjusts the effect of the Summon "Solar Isotoma" of the Character Card "Albedo": The effect "When this Summon is on the field: Your character's Plunging Attack spends 1 less Unaligned Element." will be adjusted to "When you perform "Switch Character" and this Summon is on the field: This switch is considered a Fast Action instead of a Combat Action."

Adjusts the effect of the Talent Card "Descent of Divinity" of the Character Card "Albedo": The effect "When there is Albedo on the field who has this card equipped, if your side of the field has Solar Isotoma, then your characters' Plunging Attack deals +1 DMG." has a new effect "then your characters' Plunging Attack costs 1 less Unaligned Element."

Adjusts the effect of the Talent Card "Dominance of Earth" of the Character Card "Zhongli": The effect "When your active character is protected by a Shield Character Status or a Shield Combat Status, your Summons deal +1 Geo DMG." will be adjusted to "When your Zhongli, who has this card equipped, has at least 7 HP, the DMG dealt by Zhongli and the Geo DMG from your Summons +1."

Adjusts the effect of the status "Pactsworn Pathclearer" of the Character Card "Cyno": Removes the effect "If equal to or greater than 6: Indwelling Level -4." and adds the effect "If Indwelling Level is at least 8, decrease the Indwelling level by 6."

Adjusts the effect of the Elemental Skill of the Character Card "Cyno": Adds the effect "Pactsworn Pathclearer's Indwelling Level +1."

Adjusts the effect of the Talent Card "Featherfall Judgment" of the Character Card "Cyno": The effect "When your Cyno, who has this card equipped, uses Secret Rite: Chasmic Soulfarer while having an even number of level of Pactsworn Pathclearer's Indwelling effect, deal +1 DMG." will be adjusted to "When your Cyno, who has this card equipped, uses Secret Rite: Chasmic Soulfarer while having at least 2 levels of Pactsworn Pathclearer's Indwelling effect, deal +2 DMG. (Once per Round)."

Adjusts the effect of the status "Refraction" of the Character Card "Mirror Maiden": The effect "The character to which this is attached takes +1 Hydro DMG." will be adjusted to "When the character to which this card is attached switches to another character: Elemental Dice Cost +1."

Adjusts the effect of the Talent Card "Mirror Cage" of the Character Card "Mirror Maiden": The effect "will increase the Elemental Dice Cost of switching from a character to which this is attached to another character by 1." will be adjusted to "The character to which this is attached takes +1 Hydro DMG."

Adjusts the effect of the Support Card "Dawn Winery": The effect trigger limit "Once per Round" will be adjusted to "Twice per Round."

Adjusts the Elemental Dice cost for the Support Card "Kusava": The Elemental Dice cost will be adjusted from 0 to 1.

Adjusts the Elemental Dice cost for the Support Card "Lumenstone Adjuvant": The Elemental Dice cost will be adjusted from 2 Dice of the same element to 3 Dice of any element.

Adjusts the Elemental Dice cost for the Event Card "Falls and Fortune": The Elemental Dice cost required will be adjusted from 1 to 0.

Increases the number of Usages of "Undersea Treasure" generated by the Event Card "Underwater Treasure Hunt": Each character can receive healing from this effect once per Round.

Adjusts the effect of the Event Card "Lyresong": During this Round, the effect that will be triggered the next time you play an Artifact card will be adjusted to "Spend 1 less Elemental Die. If you have not played any other Action Cards before playing this card, spend 2 less Elemental Dice."

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