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fayes-fics · 11 months

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Second Son

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: The second son is, for once, the first choice...

Warnings: none really... mild angst, family dynamics, love at first sight.

Word Count: 2.9k

Authors Note: Request fill for anon here, about Benedict being the second choice for everything.... until his love turns up. Thanks for this request; I hope this is angsty enough for you anon. Im not sure about it tbh. Sorry that it's taken more than three months to get to it on my WIP list. Unbetaed. Enjoy <3

Benedict Bridgerton was born into privilege and can have few complaints. Except perhaps that he is always second. The spare. The just-in-case option. Being a familial insurance policy lends one more freedom than the burden of being the titled first son, perhaps, but it also feels like your whole existence, in some respects, can seem like a contingency plan.

____

His stomach swoops with excitement as the arrow pierces the target dead on the bullseye. And on his first ever archery lesson, just after his twelfth birthday.

He turns around to see if anyone is there to witness his triumph, but it goes unmarked. All his young siblings gathered around Anthony, patting him on the back for his achievements in doing the same moments before. Being a good shot is an essential skill for the next Viscount indeed. The fact that he has been receiving instruction for months already and this is Benedict’s first lesson hurts a little.

But he doesn't bother to bring attention to his arguably more impressive feat. It seems pointless now. Wordlessly he shrugs and walks towards the target, plucking out his arrow and starting again. Perhaps next time, they will notice.

____

“Is that the new Viscount Bridgerton?” Benedict hears a young girl murmur as he sweeps into the first societal event of the season, the spring following his father's death.

“Oh no, my dear, sadly not; I believe that is one of the brothers,” her mother replies, acting as if he has no sense of hearing, even trying to ignore it as he is, surveying the crowd.

“Such a shame,” the young girl huffs, “he is so very handsome.”

“Yes, dear, but sadly not titled. We can do better,” her mother chides, moving them along out of earshot.

He will never get over how cutthroat the Ton can be, a part of his tender seventeen-year-old heart sinking. Not that he had a potential interest in that girl, more the principle that he will somehow be rendered as an also-ran, at best a consolation prize, for the rest of his life.

What is most galling, perhaps, is that, when his mother needs their presence the most on a night like tonight, the new VIscount is nowhere to be seen. Has not even bothered to show his face, running off to some spurious gambling den and brothel, spending the night indulging himself rather than facing society.

So here Benedict is, stepping up to play the dutiful son that his elder brother should be. Being the support their mother so desperately needs at her first event as a widow, her arm looped heavily through his, her whole bodyweight seeming to use him as her literal pillar of support. As he escorts her around the room, he is filled with admiration at her brave face. He can see the overwhelming sadness in her eyes every time the word dowager is invoked, and his heart cracks a little at the loneliness he can feel emanating from his mother’s very soul.

“Tis a shame the Viscount did not deign the first event of the season worthy of his patronage,” she states pointedly as she sips champagne.

“I am sure he has very good reasons for his absence,” Benedict replies soothingly, covering for his errant brother, attempting to shield their mother from the truth of his philandering ways. Benedict knows it is Anthony’s way of dealing with the responsibility of the title of Viscount being thrust upon him so young. But sometimes, just sometimes, Benedict wishes he could escape his grief in such a manner, Anthony taking his turn attending a stuffy ball and playing guardian to a grieving woman. Their burdens may be different, but the wish to escape them is often not, Benedict realises.

____

She catches his eye at a garden party at Aubrey Hall. She is a pretty young lady, maybe eighteen to his twenty-three, with bright eyes and a sweet, happy face. She makes his palms slightly sweaty. He watches her from a distance, uncertain how to approach or what to say, feeling a little tongue-tied, even.

Just then, Anthony materialises at his shoulder.

“Who is that pretty young thing?” Anthony asks, tracing Benedict’s line of sight.

“Miss Bradstreet,” he replies, watching as she turns to face the sun, closing her eyes, basking in its warmth. The light captures her cheekbones perfectly, and he itches to have his sketchbook and capture her likeness. He would very much like to get to know her better.

“Let's go provide a warm welcome,” Anthony smirks, clapping a hand on Benedict’s shoulder and practically dragging him across the lawn.

Benedict reluctantly follows, a flutter of excitement as her eyes land upon them as they approach.

“Miss Bradstreet,” Anthony swaggers. “Viscount Bridgerton at your service; I am so very pleased to be your host today,” he bows.

Benedict's stomach plunges as he watches her practically melt into the lawn right there, virtually swooning at Anthony’s feet.

“Oh, and this is my brother, Benedict,” Anthony adds, almost as an afterthought.

She flicks her head to the side briefly to politely acknowledge Benedict before returning to Anthony. All of her undivided adoring attention on him as he regales the story of his latest hunting triumphs upon her insistence. Benedict heaves a sigh and watches as yet another young lady he likes chooses his brother over him. He is almost used to it now, but it doesn't stop the sting every time.

____

Your world grinds to a halt as you see him. He is descending the stairs with what you assume is the rest of his family. He is very much in the middle of a tight circle, walking behind what appears to be his mother and perhaps older brother. Quite the most beautiful man you have ever seen, your heart pounding in your ears, your throat suddenly dry despite the lemonade in your hand. You assume they must be the hosts, seeing as they are the very last to enter the ballroom here at Bridgerton House, and there is no announcement of their name.

“Who is that?” you whisper, leaning towards your elder sister. She has been out among society for a year and knows the Ton better than you.

“That is the Bridgerton family, of course,” she replies. “Illustrious in the extreme. Our hosts for this evening. The Viscount there is the most eligible bachelor of every season… and every season, he has resisted a match. So I wouldn't bother if I were you,” she sniffs.

“Which is the Viscount?” you check, your eyes unable to leave the beautiful man with a cravat tied in the most unconventional fashion.

“The one with his arm looped with their mother, the dowager Viscountess, naturally,” your sister rolls her eyes as if patently obvious.

“And what of the others?” you inquire keenly, realising the man you admire cannot be the one your sister is referring to. “Do you know their names?”

“I do not,” she admits, “such things are not really important when one is looking for a titled husband,” she points out airily.

You nod, knowing the responsibility your sister must carry as firstborn to find a suitable match that can provide for your widowed mother and, indeed, perhaps yourself and your younger sister should neither of you be able to find a husband. You don’t envy her position one little bit.

You are, however, desperate to get closer to the most beautiful man you have ever seen. And so you spend your evening working towards them, in as polite of a fashion as you can, your stomach in knots of excitement to know him.

“Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton, it is an honour and a pleasure to meet you,” you curtsy, heart pounding as he now stands a few feet away, unable to look at him so close by.

“Hello, my dear and you are?” she asks politely.

“Miss y/n y/l/n, it is my very first season; I am so honoured to be here,” you explain. “I must provide the apologies of my mother, Mrs y/l/n, who could not attend tonight due to a cold, but she is so very thankful for the invitation.”

“Oh, of course,” the viscountess smiles. “I am so sorry to hear of her illness; please pass on my best regards… Anthony!” she turns to her side to grab the attention of a man. The viscount’s head whips around from where he is in discussion with another. “Come meet Miss y/l/n,” she needles pointedly. “Miss y/l/n, this is the Viscount Anthony Brdgerton, and he is so pleased not only to make your acquaintance but also for your presence here tonight,” she welcomes on his behalf, and you do not miss the subtle nudge in the ribs she gives him.

Then his regard is drawn to you. He is handsome certainly, and you appreciate his polite but absent-minded greeting. His attentions are obviously elsewhere, but then you cannot fault him as yours are the same. Your gaze strays over his shoulder to the man who first captures your attention. And your breath is stolen by how his hazy blue eyes stare intently at you.

____

Benedict is twenty-six years old when he is struck by lightning. Not literally. But that is the sensation that runs through his body when he first lays eyes on you—politely introducing yourself to his mother and thanking her for your invitation to this ball.

He thought he knew what attraction was until this point. He thought he knew the depths to which one could fall in love in an instant. He was an utter fool. He looks at you, and at once, everything is so quiet and loud all at once. He is desperate to know you in a way he has never felt. To grab your hand, take you somewhere, and ask you a million questions to get to know your soul. He also wants to kiss you so much that his lips tingle. And inside, his lungs want to scream as his mother does the natural thing and introduces the beautiful, polite young lady to her most eligible son… Anthony.

Then his heart jolts as your eyes stray from Anthony and meets his, your pupils dilating in a way that makes his lungs too small to inhale air. It is the first and only time a young woman has had Anthony’s full attention and has looked away from it. And to him, no less. The tidal flood of chemicals in his system makes it feel like he is vibrating in his very shoes.

____

You try your best to be polite and look at Anthony as he speaks, but your sight is drawn to this other man like a moth to a flame. From appearance, the second son, as you are the second daughter. A flare of understanding and sympathy in your chest as to how that is. You want to grab his hand and run away with him.

“My lord,” you find your voice and snap your eyes back to the Viscount, “would you do me the honour of introducing me to the rest of your wonderful family?” your ask, almost timid.

He looks temporarily taken aback, as if mystified why anyone in the Ton would care about the status of anyone beyond his mother and himself. You smile at him expectantly and do not miss, from the corner of your eye, how the beautiful man’s face is awash with surprise at your request.

“Oh, most certainly,” Anthony seems to snap out of his temporary stupor and turns to introduce his siblings in attendance. A tall, baby-faced young man stands to attention as Anthony moves from left to right. “This is Colin; he has just returned from his travels in Greece,” you nod and smile politely, knowing nothing of the subject. “And this is my sister, Eloise; it is her first season, and she is not in the slightest bit happy about that,” he adds dryly, and you can't help but giggle and feel a kinship with the spirited young lady who returns your wry smile. “My eldest sister, the Duchess of Hastings, who is visiting us,”

You curtsy and bow your head. “It is an honour, your Grace,” you add, and she smiles sweetly at you, her arm looped in her mother's.

“Obviously, you have met my mother,” he continues, and suddenly he is the last in the line. You feel your palms clench, sweaty in anticipation of learning his name “... and this is my brother, Benedict; he hopes to be an artist.”

You are finally brave enough to meet his eyes again. He is so achingly beautiful that the rest of his family, indeed the whole ballroom, melt away from your view—he is all you can see.

“Oh, I adore art,” you stutter, mesmerised, offering your hand to him, the first and only person in the family you do so to. Unseen by you, your gaze only on one man, Anthony’s mouth drops open in surprise.

Nothing can prepare you for when Benedict’s gloved hand gently touches yours, him bowing to kiss the back of your hand. You catch a woody citrus scent that makes your mouth water as he does so. And then you feel the warmth of his lips through your glove, and you are utterly undone.

“Miss y/l/n,” he rumbles quietly, the sound making your insides melt even more; it's deep and resonant and makes every inch of your body tingle.

“Please call me y/n,” you murmur, moving closer, knowing how scandalous that might be, but seemingly unable to stop yourself. He has a hypnotic hold over you that you don't want to fight.

“Only if you shall call me Benedict,” he breathes, and it takes Anthony clearing his throat to make you spring apart, suddenly remembering where you are.

____

His lips touch the silk of your glove, and he is gone.

Already planning a future, his mind supplying images of you at his cottage out in the country, the lady of the house. Tending to the herb garden, reading happily curled up in front of the fire in the drawing room, fearlessly plucking a bow as you stand in front of joint archery targets gently teasing him for losing to a girl, and finally, the image that truly knocks the wind out of him, you naked under him, desperately moaning his name as you move together, entwined in ecstasy.

He hears your sharp inhale, and his heart skips at the idea you feel it too. That you are the first woman ever that sees him and not Anthony. Really sees him. Not as the second son. Not as a consolation prize.

And when your body seems to sway towards him, he is already mentally asking his mother for a betrothal ring from her grandmother, which she said she is keeping just for him.

____

“Benedict,” his name feels wonderful in your mouth, like a gift from the heavens. “Please, may we take a turn around the gardens?” you implore, the boldest you have ever been in your whole life.

“It would be my very greatest pleasure,” he responds.

And you know with absolute certainty you have met your husband, the father of your children, your very future.

____

“It is not as if this is my show….” he sighs.

“You should not do that, darling,” you say affectionately, ruffling his hair as you move to fix his cravat; it definitely needs to be more jaunty, in your opinion.

“Do what?” he breathes, his wedding ring catching the light as he places his hands gently over yours and stills your motions.

“Think of yourself as second,” you argue, running your hand over his cheek. “This gallery opening may feature others' work too, but you are the star of the exhibit,” you reassure, tilting his forehead down so it rests upon yours.

There it is again. That look that always floors you. Even now, a year later. Like you are the most wondrous creature, and he can scarcely believe you are his.

“Never forget, you will always be first to me,” you utter fiercely, watching his eyes soften with devotion. “And not just me….” you guide his sizeable warm hand onto the swell of your belly, “to us. We love you so much, Benedict,” your tone is ardent, wanting him to believe he deserves this recognition, that he should believe in himself the way that you do.

“I love you, too,” he responds quietly, reverentially. “So very much. Both of you are my whole world,” his voice choked with emotion, and you throw your arms around him and squeeze hard, wanting to telegraph just how much he is the very centre of your universe.

An hour later, you clutch your hands over your chest as you watch him being brought onto the raised stage and introduced to the crowd as they applaud him and his work rapturously, awaiting to hear him talk of his art. As he does so, you stroke your belly unseen under your cloak, beaming with pride for your wonderful husband.

____

He sees your face in the crowd, and as ever, it calms him, especially at this landmark moment. So as he finishes the speech that he has rehearsed for days now, he decides to do something perhaps unconventional but something he seems unable to resist.

“Lastly, before I allow you back to your champagne,” he jests, finally at ease with the attention and recognition. “I want to thank my life’s inspiration, the very reason I stand before you today. My wonderful wife. Thank you, my love, for being the light of my life; for always making this second son your first choice. You will always, always be my first choice. I love you.”

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep

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lovelybrooke · 1 year

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Alright , but the soft moments with Strawhats were actually really cute. I still read it because It really does shows Strawhats like physical touch.

But what about deep conversation? Not like in the interrogation way but a talk where they actually or kinda reveal the reason being why they treasure Y/n so much?

Like Y/n one day asked "If you don't want me to not only leave but to do anything because it might be dangerous for me - what am I good for?"

it's just my thought but I think they either will not believe that Y/n thinks that they are not worthy of being here OR they will be taken off guard that they feel this way after everything they went through with them.

But I really want to hear your own opinion on this, of course if you want to.

Have a great day as well.

Why am I here? (Yandere Strawhats x Isekai reader)

I really like this idea, but I didn't know If you wanted an entire piece or scenarios for each character. I decided to do a whole fic, so if this isn't what you wanted, I apologize. (Also thank you so much for 300 followers).

You can't help but wonder what your purpose is most days.

The Strawhats, your friends, are very protective of you, even after months of being with them and getting used to their world. You grateful for them, but you wonder what caused their behavior.

When you first appeared in this world, they were nice. They let you say on their ship, eat their food, and even promised to take you to a nice island until you found a way back home. None of their actions were strange, especially compared to how they act now. They were pretty normal, some of them even standoffish. One day though, that all changed, and they became the people you know now.

Suddenly, Zoro went from basically ignoring your whole existence to showing off to you during training. Sanji began to make bigger and fuller meals, always insisting you eat more until you could barely even eat another bite. Usopp was making strange gadgets you could fill you time with, Chopper was worrying over your every move, Nami was spending her hard-earned money on you, and even Robin was suddenly offering to lend you some her more precious books just so you two could talk about them together.

But the strangest change of all was Luffy.

Luffy was always happy go lucky, that's just in his nature. Even before, he was nice to you. He was always quick to protect you, he asked for your opinion on things, and would goof off just to make you laugh.

When Luffy changed, he became strangely more serious. He took your safety more seriously, ordering the others to value your safety among all others. Suddenly, it's like he became your shadow, never leaving your side even for a second, and he wanted to be involved in everything you did.

With their quick shift in behavior, your goal of going home slowly and slowly faded away into nothingness.

Even though, you couldn't help but feel as though you owed them something. They helped you when most likely, no one else wouldn't. They gave you a home and kept you safe from the world around you. So of course, it's not strange to think you owe them something. Whenever you try and help though, it quickly struck down, them claiming that you've done enough already.

But what have you done? You haven't partaken in any feats of bravery, you haven't liberated countries, you haven't saved anyone. You time here amounts to nothing in comparison to them. So, what have you done?

It doesn't help that they're so restrictive on what you do, prohibiting you from living the ship unless you're with one of them. So even if you want to help them in battle, you swept away and locked safety in one of the rooms on the Going Merry before you had the chance.

Your mind was filled with these thoughts constantly. Nothing justified you being here, and as the days went on and you grew closer to the strawhats, you became a shell of yourself.

"(Y/N)? Are you okay?" You could hear someone's voice, but you couldn't tell who it was. You were zoned out, and after shaking your thoughts away, you could see you were leaning on the railing of the front deck. You slowly turned towards the voice, Sanji right next to you, lighting a cigarette right next to you. He stared down next to you, his gaze making you strangely embarrassed.

"Yeah, I guess." You answer. Sanji raises his brow, letting the cigarette dangle from his lips.

"You guess?" He questioned. You gave a small sigh, your eyes locked on the dark blue ocean so you could avoid Sanji's accusing eyes. You refused to answer, the silence awkward and thick, but you would rather deal with the uncomfortable situation than voice your concerns to him. You can smell the slight hint of ash coming from Sanji's direction, and you had to suppress a cough, looking away from him in order to keep it down. At the action, Sanji lets out a gruff, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and dangling it between his pointer and middle finger, the ashes falling into the abyss that was the ocean below him. He looks over at you, the back of your head being the only thing he sees, and he lets out small breath.

"Look, you don't have to talk to me if you don't want to." He voices calmly and you can feel his understanding gaze on you. "But it's never going to get better if you don't talk to one of us." He explains, watching as you give a curt nod and stumble away.

Sanji doesn't know how to feel. You've been acting weird for a while, something he assumed to be caused by stress due to your unfamiliar surroundings. But that didn't make sense. You've been here for a while; you should've warmed up to them by now. That's what Robin said would happen. If they played nice and didn't completely suffocate you with their need to protect you, you would be happy. So, what's happening? Sanji took a puff of his cigarette, pondering the situation intensely. Maybe you haven't been eating enough? That can be it, he and Chopper make sure you're as healthy as possible. Maybe you're lonely, they have been spending more time exploring islands lately, and maybe you feel neglected. Sanji wasn't too sure though, and as he took one final puff, he thought that he might pay a visit to his captain.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The stars always brought you comfort, they were one of the few things that wasn't completely different from your world. You had a desire to learn all the constellations that existed in this world, even if that meant spending a little more time here.

Your feet dangled off the edge of the ship, the ocean even darker than before. When you first arrived, the ocean was the thing that scared you the most. As you spent more time in this unfamiliar land however, you began to fear people more than the environment around you, and soon the ocean became one of your closest friends.

You fit of existentialism was broken as you felt strong arms wrap around you. You knew it had to be Luffy, no one was nearly as clingy as him. You could feel him snuggle into your back, the tickling of his hairs almost getting a laugh out of you.

Quickly, Luffy detected himself from your back, sitting next to you on the railing cross legged. You could feel his eyes on you, but for a while he kept quiet as you continued to gaze at the stars.

"Why are you so up this late?" Luffy asked randomly, receiving a small shrug from you. Luffy smile morphed to a frown, pouting like a child at you answer. He rested his head on his hand, his arm propped up on his thigh. Looking at you with at you with questioning eyes, he continued. "What's up with you." His words weren't particularly harsh, but they did hurt slightly. In a second, you face went from the sky above back to the ocean below, entranced by the water once again. You didn't have a smart answer, the worlds tumbling out of you involuntarily.

"I-I don't...it's...it's nothing." You stumble, and Luffy looked unconvinced. This was one of the few times when you were actually intimidated. Your eyes dart around, trying to find the right words to say.

"Why am I here?" It was random, and the words caused Luffy's back to straighten. You continued before he could say anything. "I just mean..." You sigh, trying to ignore his eye on you. "I serve no purpose. I'm not strong, I'm not brave, I'm not fit for this world. But for some reason, I'm here, and I don't know why." If felt strangely nice to voice this to Luffy, even if it meant being embarrassed for life.

"That's not true." Luffy said after a minute.

"Huh?"

"You serve a purpose." Luffy said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, his head tilting to the side like a confused child. You furrowed your brow at him, your mouth agape.

"What do you mean?! I'm the weakest one here!" Your voice was somewhat loud, but you were consumed by pent up frustration and didn't care.

Luffy smiled at your frustration. "You make us happy." Your breath was caught in your throat, and you could feel tears in your eyes as Luffy gave you a gentle hug. You quickly reciprocated.

"That's not much though." Your voice was weak, small.

Luffy simply hugged you tighter. "You don't have to be anything more. Just you is enough." He whispered. Hot tears streamed down you face as you buried your face in Luffy's shoulder. The smile on his face never left as he comforted you.

"You make us happy, so we protect you." He explained as you began to calm down. Slowly, you moved away from Luffy, his arms still wrapped around you and his smile still covering his face.

"We don't expect anything else from you other than, well, you." He giggled at his own words. "It doesn't matter if you aren't strong or brave. What matters is that you're our friend. What matters is that you're happy. What matters is that you're here, with us." He said, getting a small smile at you. Slowly, you went back to looking at the stars, you head resting on Luffy's shoulder as you began to drift off to sleep.

Luffy knew for a while why you were acting weird, but he wanted you to come to him. He wanted you to be open with him. He wanted you to trust him.

If you asked Luffy why he, why any of them, valued you so much, they would respond with simply "They're my friend." That was obvious to anyone. But the harsh looks at passerby's, the threats to people who simply talked to you, that couldn't be explained away as friendly behavior. What it was deep down, was possessiveness. Pirates are possessive by nature, and what they value most in the world, is their treasure.

Luffy looked down at you once more, you soft snores filling the air around you two. He let out a peaceful sigh, feeling calm at your restful state. Luffy knew for a while that you were his treasure and like a good captain, he would do whatever he could to protect you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/n: Please like and reblog if you enjoy.

#yandere x reader #platonic yandere #soft yandere #yandere one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece fanfiction #one piece #yandere #fanfiction #fanfic #yandere one piece x reader

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sugar-plum-writer · 3 months

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"Jujutsu Lover~ OTOME GAME"

System: 002 [Part - 01]

Loading 99%----> 100%!

Loading Route! Character?

System Administrator!Gojo Satoru

Love interest for Player- 3%

[Be aware not to cross above 100% for your safety~] Best of Luck!

[Player Death Rate- 80%]

Difficulty- SSR**

[Failing to clear will result in immediate death!]

Warnings/Tags?

[Slight!Violence; A System Administrator!Gojo Satoru x Fem!Otome Game Player Reader; Isekai]

Route Name?

[Do you love me Mr. Gojo?]

Good Luck player Y/n

The situation you were in now was unexpected, sure you might have hallucinated about it but hallucinations do not come to life correct? correct. If so was the case why are you stuck in this situation?

"Yo~ Y/n welcome to the afterlife!!!" pulling you by the wrist the man smirked smugly

"Congratulations on living the dream everyone has wanted to live, applause please!!!!" he clapped his hands loudly, setting off a party popper wearing a birthday hat

The man was a giant, 190 cm tall, with broad shoulders, white hair, and his eyes a blue embodying the entire sky- Looking into them felt like a freefall through an endless vast expanse of never ending Azure.

"W…Wait what!? I am dead…like dead dead? or a demon is trying to take possession of me?" confused you looked at him a bit freaked out at the situation

"Ah… possession well that's a first I have heard as a system administrator, oh well it's interesting" Smirking he offered you a party hat too

You looked at the party hat, then looked at him doubting and wondering if he was serious, as silence filled the heaven-like white room, with no beginning or end a span of endless white

"......."

"Ah you are no fun~" With a pout he threw the party hat away

"Believe it or not you are dead its not a dream, this is 100% real, you died in a car crash, a drunk driver slammed into you"

"So…I am dead?" you felt a pang in your chest, sweat dripped down your neck as the heart pumped itself to oblivion

"Yes, you are dead" The playful demeanor was gone as he looked at you, the gold threads embroidered into the royal blue and white suit glistened- something straight out of a French couture. The print was abstract-outwardly but fit him perfectly as if it was made for him.

"I…Is there no way to go back?"

"Hmmm…Well, you are going to be a player to test out the new world" sneering he leaned in, "If you win and survive, you can go back to your world"

"Really!? What do I need to do?"

"Well first of all~ you will need to make one of the characters fall in love with you, clear the route, and get a happily ever after, it's like a dating sim!" with a snap of his fingers a hologram appeared in front of you of a game like system

The Hologram had all kinds of stats missions, routes, shop, etc as you clicked around seeing different options

"And winning is assured because- I yours truly Mr. Gojo Satoru will accompany you through this! see!" he pointed at a small chibi icon of him in the corner of the hologram smirking.

"I see…but how are you so sure about winning? It's not like you are a god" you looked at him and chuckled finding it funny.

Without batting an eyes he gazed at you, looking into the depts of your soul every nook and cranny, and stated the obvious calmly as if it was obvious beyond doubt. For a moment he looked like a man above all, as if the world was nothing- not even worthy enough to be under his feet for it could never bear his divinity

"Darling", He chuckled , "Why would I need to be a God when my existence is higher than any position a God could want? As, throughout heavens and Earth, I alone am the honored one"

[System message!]

"Player Y/n do you wish to change route to other characters of jjk?"

Yes/ No

Link to my Masterlist

[If you wanna be tagged for other parts ect! comment below I will tag you~ and heart the post to let me know if you want more~]

@hinakazino it's out! Sorry for the late tag love ❤

@nissatamz it's out!!!

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pokemenlovingmen · 1 year

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Random selection of Pokeguys with this old classic:

Character: “I wasn’t that drunk last night!”

“You were flirting with S/O.”

Character: “So? He’s my boyfriend.”

“You asked him if he was single.”

“And then cried when he said he wasn’t.”

… you guys know the one I’m talking about right? A big fandom meme but I can’t find the og, if there even was a non fandom-affiliated og. This is probably really convoluted for a shitpost lmao I’m sorry, this is just silly goofiness to me while I wait for requests and the guys here were just kinda picked by who I thought would be the most fun to write.

Content warnings: alcohol consumption and drunkenness

Adaman

💎 — Emotionally devastated but trying so hard not to show it

💎 — Considering he was sloppy-ass drunk enough to ask you, HIS BOYFRIEND, if you were single that’s not really something he’s doing great at

💎 — “Oh nooo that’s so… I’m sorry… oh noooo you’re just so pretty :(“

💎 — He stares vacantly off into the distance, holding back tears while you stare at him and wonder how long it’s gonna take for him to realize.

💎 — It’s kinda pathetic so you give up the joke and tell him the truth, to which he ACTUALLY bursts into tears.

💎 — “Hweuuuhhh Mighty Dialga is truly gracious and kind to have blessed me with your love I’m so luckyyyyyyyyy”

💎 — Just leans against you and sobs for a while, while you pet his hair and try to console him and insist this is real life, and that you’re sorry about the trick. Mai and Irida, who are watching the whole thing, are NOT sorry you pulled this one because it’s fucking hysterical

Melli

💙 — WAILS

💙 — Cue incoherent sobbing into your shoulder about why Mighty Dialga hates him so much that it would torment him with the ethereal beauty that you are that he’s forbidden to have

💙 — If only they existed in Hisui, you might want to grab a velvet chaise for him to lay on and sob dramatically in a very theatrical pose

💙 — When you finally give up the joke and tell him that the person you’re dating is, in fact, him, it’s like you just clicked the off switch. I mean, the tears are definitely still flowing but he shuts up instantly and stares at you like you’ve grown a second head.

💙 — Then starts fanning his face, still clearly crying while trying to look all smug and confident.

💙 — “HMMMMMPH of course I knew that, only I would be worthy of your company anyway” (still visibly crying a river)

💙 — Clings to your side the entire night and also looks like a pathetic wet rat while he does it

Red

🔥 — :(

🔥 — visible despair

🔥 — sad shinji meme

🔥 — he just kind of. sulks. pouting very dramatically.

🔥 — I mean good for you and whoever you’re seeing but he’s very drunk and to him you’re like the hottest man on earth right now??

🔥 — Eventually you put your arm around him and hit him with the “Red honey, I was talking about you. You’re the other person I’m seeing.”

🔥 — …

🔥 — :,D

🔥 — prommy????

Ingo

⚫️ — INSTANT ugly crying but not for the reason you think actually.

⚫️ — “WAUUGH PLEASE FORGIVE MY RUDENESS I DIDN’T MEAN TO IMPOSE I AM SO IGNORANT PLEASE TELL YOUR SIGNIFICANT OTHER I’M SORRYYYYYY”

⚫️ — I mean yeah, he’s also upset you’re apparently not single but all he can think about is how much he must have offended you and AUGH you’re so handsome and sweet and he was so clueless please don’t take it personally he doesn’t really know what’s gotten into him!!!

⚫️ — Probably the one you have to drop the joke the fastest with because you were NOT expecting this reaction at all and between all the sobbing and shouting you’re starting to worry about when the last time he actually took a breath was.

⚫️ — You end up needing to rub his back and scream your own apologies to him because you were only joking, the person you were dating is HIM!

⚫️ — At this he’s now just crying for a different reason, because he’s so lucky and you’re so handsome and he doesn’t know what he did to deserve this.

⚫️ — He calms down pretty fast after that, but never mention that incident to him again

⚫️ — He already doesn’t drink much and remembering how dramatic and off kilter he was being that night just has him actually wanting to curl up in a hole and just. Live there.

Emmet

⚪️ — “Oh! Okay then!”

⚪️ — You’re a bit surprised by his unfazed reaction for being absolutely piss drunk, but after delivering that line he immediately pivots on his heel and speedwalks the hell away.

⚪️ — You call his name at first, and when he doesn’t respond and also looks DEAD SET on leaving whatever event you guys are at, you have to run after him calling his name all the while.

⚪️ — Drunk Emmet thought process: Dear lord, I’ve made a horrible mistake. I am extremely embarrassed. I’m going to immediately vacate the area and probably never come back.

⚪️ — You practically corner him because he is so, so fixated on leaving out of sheer embarrassment when you explain you were just messing with him and the person you’re already dating? That’s him.

⚪️ — By the look on his face, he practically needs one of those little buffering wheels above his head, because he is thinking HARD about this. His entire worldview has shattered. The earth has stopped turning. His wig is gone.

⚪️ — Eventually he just… climbs into your arms and lets you take him back to where you guys were. Both extremely embarrassed for a totally different reason now while simultaneously being in complete and total awe that sober him scored someone like you. Woah.

#cw alcohol #tw alcohol #adaman x reader #pokemon x reader #melli x reader #ingo x reader #emmet x reader #red x reader #not at all serious post #male reader

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ot3 · 4 months

Note

ok i think you have really good, reasonable, down-to-earth takes across the board, but your ai perspective is genuinely very confusing to me and i would love your help in understanding. especially wrt your last post. to reiterate: you are saying that people who hate ai art should also hate game consoles and off-season produce, and that hating ai art betrays a hypocritical attitude toward what forms of labour deserve protection and value? if i have this wrong please correct me!

if i have that write, then if i can ask in good faith: how is it that ai art generators can be seen as equivalent to gaming consoles and off-season produce? do you mean from a tech perspective or a labour perspective? i understand neither. gaming consoles are machines - designed and made by humans - designed to run games - games that were made by (typically) huge human labour forces and artists and writers and designers. off-season produce is able to be grown thanks to technology - but still has to be grown and watered and harvested by human labour. midjourney is a computer program, admittedly designed by people, yes, that then goes and autonomously scrapes data off the internet (“data” here being art and photography created by humans) to then autonomously spit own a hashed together image when prompted. without appropriate compensation for the people whose art and photography has been included in such a dataset, i do not see how they might count as similar to the greenhouse farmers or console designers. i am sincerely clueless as to how something like midjourney entails equivalent labour worthy of equivalent protection as items made or grown by hand, or how disliking ai art, and feeling uncertain about what it might mean for human labour the future, is hypocrisy. are you able to clarify any of this?

i'm not saying that people who hate ai should also hate video game consoles or out of season fruit. im saying that people who look at ai and see something that is fundamentally incapable of being interesting or enjoyable because it existing involved stealing the labor of Creatives seem not to care as much about the labor theft that goes into providing them with other luxury goods. i picked out game consoles and out of season fruit as my specific examples here because they're things people could easily choose to live without.

without appropriate compensation for the people whose art and photography has been included in such a dataset, i do not see how they might count as similar to the greenhouse farmers or console designers.

this is the part where we're not quite on the same page, i believe. the point i was trying to make is that the people who are responsible for making your consoles and for making sure your grocery store has produce are not adequately compensated either. they just aren't. i'm not talking about engineers who design consoles or people running greenhouses, i'm talking about miners, factory workers, and agricultural laborers.

the metals for your console were mined by someone whose labor is exploited. the console was assembled by people whose labor was exploited. the fruit from the greenhouse was planted by someone whose labor was exploited, tended to by someone whose labor was exploited, and then harvested by someone whose labor was exploited.

i don't think there's anything wrong with disliking ai art or feeling unsure about where it leaves human artists. i think that's a completely natural way to react to it. i think discussing AI image generation as if the lack of compensation in the labor necessary to develop it makes it uniquely exploitative, thereby putting all AI image generation off limits to everyone forever, means people don't spend enough time thinking about the stolen labor that goes in to making the rest of their life possible.

#long post

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 11 months

Text

Deuce, Malleus: My Dream, to Defend

I now read everything Malleus says as extremely ominous and foreboding (knowing the context of book 7) 👨 THEY’RE ALL RED FLAGS 🚩, YOUR HONOR *proceeds to perpetuate the red flags by giving Malleus reasonably optimistic but also ominous-in-the-right-context dialogue*

Also??? Why are Ace and Deuce's faces on their birthday cards so similar 😂 They kinda match, even their Groovies (they kind of look like they're racing each other!)… cute

A Boy in Bloom, and his Flowering Future.

“What makes you glad you can use magic?”

Malleus paused, pondering the question. “What an odd inquiry.”

“For Malleus-senpai, yeah. You use magic for almost everything! It must be hard to just pick one thing about it that makes you go, 'I'm thankful for this!'. But for me…” Deuce tilted his head back, looking up to the structure that loomed over them.

It was the main building of the campus, housing numerous classrooms and offices. Regal and imposing, with several turreted towers and balconies, it was less an academic institution and more like a castle. A castle where dreams and wishes came true. Among them, his--if he worked hard enough.

"I'm happy that I got into Night Raven College," he said earnestly. "I never thought I had the magic potential to make it to a place like this, but here I am... standing at the steps."

Malleus's mouth curled. "What a surprise. Many of the students I've encountered here are the self-assured types. If I may ask... Why is it that you did not believe yourself worthy to stand among us here?"

"Long story short, I was kind of a delinquent back then. I'd use my magic to get up to no good. Y'know, laying the smackdown on anyone that talked shit or looked at me the wrong way."

"... 'Lay the smackdown'? 'Talked shit'? I'm afraid I'm not familiar with such colloquialisms."

"Er, it sounds really wrong hearing those words come from you... Basically, it means 'fighting' and, 'when people say bad things about you'. Got it?"

"I understand. Perhaps I will take care to incorporate such terms into my vocabulary. It may even make me appear more approachable to others."

"AHHHH!!!" Deuce startled, frantically waving his hands to silence his interviewer. "M-Maybe that's not such a good idea!! I think Sebek'd tackle me to the ground and kill me on the spot for teaching you bad words..."

"Fufufu, I jest."

"A-Are you really...?"

"Of course. Please, continue sharing your story." Malleus gestured for him to proceed. "Pray tell, why is it that you became entangled in such affairs?"

"Lots of stuff," Deuce said vaguely. "Mostly because I stood out. Didn't really fit in. It was easier to take out my frustrations on others than to work on myself.

"When my magic came to me, it was helpful to have in fights. It would drive some people off, and they'd leave me alone. They were scared of getting crushed again by a cauldron."

"Scared, you say... Hmm." Malleus looked pensive. "I see. So there are cases where non-mages feel threatened by the existence of mages."

"Huh?!" Deuce stared at him, eyes bulging. "That never occurred to you before, senpai?!"

"Magic comes naturally to me. It is capable of blessings and miracles. I cannot imagine why anyone would fear it."

"Well, I think it's because magic can do good things, but it can also do bad things.”

“Good and bad…” Malleus’s brows crinkled as the considered the thought, a finger to his chin.

Deuce’s stomach dropped at the sight. “Did I speak out of turn?! Y-You don’t have to listen to what I said if you don’t want to, senpai! Forget me, wh-what do I know anyway?!”

“… No, not at all. I was just thinking about your words. It reminds me of something my grandmother told me.”

“Eh, your grandma? Y-You don’t mean the queen of Briar Valley? I… reminded you of her?” Deuce squealed, afraid to speak her name.

“Yes, she.” Malleus’s eyes darkened, resembling a storm right before lightning struck. “Grandmother says that we Draconias were gifted with great powers—and with it, great responsibility to our people and their smiles. It is with this power that we are able to protect our country.

“Is it not similar for magic in general? The wielder is the one who determines whether one’s magic is used for ‘good’ or for ‘bad’ means. In which case… it is up to each of us to use what we have for ‘good’.”

“Draconia-senpai…!!” Deuce clutched a fist to his heart. A smile was at his lips, his eyes shining. “You get me!! I… I want to use my magic for things like that! To defend my friends and my family…!!”

“That is the way.” Malleus smirked, relishing in the newfound fire in his junior’s eyes. “The power to protect those you love is within your own hands. All you must do is shape it, guide it… and make that dream come true, regardless of the obstacles that may cross your path.”

“I’ll do my best!! If there’s one thing I know I’m good at, it’s being stubborn!”

“That kind of persistence is unique to you.” Malleus showed his teeth. “Take pride in that, Spade.”

"You bet I will!!"

"... Incidentally, how do you fare in Defense Magic?"

"Urk!!" The birthday boy visibly deflated--an indication of his answer. "N-Not the best... I studied as much as I could, but still barely passed my last exam. But don't worry about me, Draconia-senpai!!"

Deuce pointed at his temple. "I'll train my brain even more so I can get at least a C next time!!"

A C... so he means to say that he earned a D on his previous exam.

A low laugh rumbled out of Malleus. “How truly tenacious of you, Spade. I wish you the best of luck on that journey.”

He lifted a hand, fingers curling around the milky orb floating in the sky. The wind rustled upon his command, ushering in a cool breeze that chased off the bleating heat of summer.

“The birthday road, and your future, awaits.”

“Yes!! I’m on my way!!” Deuce eagerly mounted his broom. His knees were tucked together tightly, stiffly securing the handle.

“Ah, and Spade. One more thing.”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“When the times comes,” Malleus said with an easy smile, “you are free to defend yourself against my magic.”

Deuce nearly fell off of his broom at the suggestion. “Whaaat?! There’s no way I’d be able to hold up against your magic…! I’ll be just a pile of ashes by the time you’re done with…”

He caught himself and stopped. A deep breath taken, and then he set his jaw. The peacock green of his eyes had dimmed into a shade more serious.

“… No. I… I just told you that I wanted to be the kind of guy who’s capable of defending the people he loves. That means no running away, even if I’m scared, even if I know I might not win! That’s my promise to myself.”

“Fufu, that’s what I like to hear. I will be expecting you sometime then.”

Deuce gulped. “Got it! I’ll face your challenge and my future… head-on!!”

FwooooOOOSH!!

A steady wind kicked up, starting small and growing into a powerful gale. Deuce yelped as his broom bucked forward, inching above the ground on only a few startled sparkles. He looked back in horror, only to find Malleus chuckling into a hand.

Had that been a magical push?

“Heh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?” A wicked glint had surfaced in Deuce, from the eyes to his grin. “I’ll show you just how I ride…!”

Gripping the handle tightly, he leaned forward, bracing himself for a familiar rush. Height wasn’t his goal, but speed.

The world stilled. His senses sharpened, his thoughts growing louder, more insistent.

Imagine a magical wheel. Think of becoming one with the wind. So fast that you’re not yourself anymore.

He blasted off, a tornado of swirling blue petals left where he had once been. Flitting down lazily, drunken on the moonlight, they were the mark of a speed demon reborn.

The past, far behind him.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Malleus Draconia #Deuce Spade #Deuce birthday takeover #something no one asked for #spoilers #disney twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios

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paracosmic-murdock · 10 months

Text

Tell me what are my words worth ; Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Chapter 2: "Oeillets, coquelicots et saphirs"

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: While the other ladies have grown with the mindset of marrying and having children, you, as the daughter of a man who wanted a son, grew up being both. You learnt how to embroider, play the pianoforte, fence and manage the estate. However, there were some things that not even the Duke of Burgundy could do, so after he passed and you thought there was nothing left for you, you decided to move to London for a while and go to the Royal Academy of Art.

Nothing was going to keep you from what you wanted, and you would do whatever it takes: you would lie to everyone, you would live to death, you would pretend to be a man. You had a plan and it would be a piece of cake for you. But again, when has something that she wants and should not do easy for a woman? Especially when a man like Benedict Bridgerton gets in the way in more ways than one.

Warnings/tags: idiots in love, eventual smut, love triangles (but not really), lgbtq+ themes, bisexual benedict bridgerton, feminist themes, historical inaccuracy (for the sake of the plot), inspired by mulan (1998), song: the lakes (taylor swift), other tags to be added

Chapter summary: The Royal Academy of Art was your dream, and you were finally there. Even though the main purpose was to get your portrait painted by the artist of your choice—whose charm drove you to that decision—, you took the opportunity to make it your first day of Art School.

Word count: 2.4K

❁ Series masterlist

❁ mila's paracosm (main masterlist)

"Lady Y/N, are you aware of what could happen if you get caught?"

You sighed. "Antoinette, I appreciate your concerns, but nothing will happen."

"Nothing will happen until it happens, the less protection you have, the more careful you must be… And with your father gone, who is going to take care of you?"

"I can take care of myself, I don't need a man to protect me," you answered, wondering why you didn't change her as your maid before. She was the voice of consciousness in your life, was what your father had said when you considered it first. "The only thing a man is good at is being the epicenter of every problem that has ever existed. Forgive me for only wanting one of those hideous beings to be worthy of me."

Antoinette snickered. "Love… you talk about it all the time, do you not? Once you fall in love, you will change your mind and make some sense."

"I do not need a man I am in love with, perhaps loving in a non-romantic way… As long as I can trust him with all that I have, all that my cousin's life is not long enough for him to touch, I think it would be enough."

"You might as well find that man in Art School and he will not like you if you look like another man."

You laughed. "I cannot marry an artist! Lady Carrington advised me not to, and I must follow her recommendations. Also, I will be saying that I have a twin who happens to be an elegant, dazzling, funny and beautiful young lady."

"Anything you say, my Lady." She rolled her eyes.

"I'm so excited!"

She curved her lips, internally not hating it entirely. Deep down, she admired your determination and the way you always end up making the most out of every difficulty.

Astounding was the way that a situation triggered your impulsiveness. On this particular occasion, a conflict at the Château made you send a letter to your godparents, steal clothes from your cousin—who is strangely your same size—, and run away to England. Antoinette knew she could not do a thing about it and that her job was to comply with your every wish.

"Are you ready, dear?" Lord Carrington asked as he saw you reach downstairs.

"Yes!" you exclaimed. "What will we do today, Lord Carrington?"

He shook his head in amusement. "I will accompany you to a classroom full of our most promising artists and have one paint you… Then, I shall leave you to explore the Academy by yourself, I am certain that you will have the time of your life."

The widest of smiles shone on your face as you hurriedly followed him to the carriage.

Your path was full of chit chat, nothing too interesting as your mind was set on your plans for the day.

When you arrived, you could not do much but look around, mesmerized.

Since you were a child, you wished to go to school, to university, and while your father used to indulge in your ideas and wishes, there were certain things not even a duke could have done.

He did hire a different educator for each of your diverse interests: languages, art, literature, history, astronomy, music, fencing, or archery. He taught you himself how to manage the winery, your properties, your fortune, a thing or two regarding mining, and the value of every single thing in life.

There were life lessons, advice, and love every day you spent together, and you would always be thankful for that.

When you finally got to the classroom, you encountered about half a dozen gentlemen in a semicircle, painting a woman sitting naked in the center of the circle.

You looked to another spot, any, as your only way to show respect to her.

"Will they… paint me like that, too?" you asked your godfather, and he chuckled.

"Do not even consider that idea, dear. It will be a portrait of you just the way you are right now."

You snickered nervously for a moment.

"Look at their work, my Lady," he ordered. "Then, pick whomever's you like best and we will have him painting you."

You did as he told you, lying eyes on a particular man. His work was interesting, remarkable even.

You correctly guessed that he was new to the Academy as his strokes lacked perfect precision. You did not care.

You did not look at any other's work, you just decided that was the man who would paint you. There was just something about him and about the way your heart jumped when he locked eyes with you for the first time.

So you made a gesture at Lord Carrington, who dismissed the model and every other artist in the room, leaving only you, him, the artist you chose, and your maid.

"Mister," Lord Carrington called for his attention, not knowing his name he just opted for the safest option. "Here is my goddaughter, Lady Y/N. She picked you to paint her portrait."

"I… Yes, of course, Lord Carrington."

He nodded. "I'll leave you to it."

You smiled at the unknown man with those glorious ocean eyes. "I am Y/N, enchantée."

"Benedict," he stopped himself when he noticed you didn't say your surname or present yourself with any title. "Are you French, my Lady?"

"Oh, what gave it away?"

He wrinkled his nose. "I have no idea, you look like someone who loves to walk through des rues de Paris. It could also be the accent, or perhaps introducing yourself saying enchantée, that is very French."

"You also speak French in Monaco, Belgium…"

"Are you Belgian or…"

"No, but still."

Benedict laughed, putting aside the halfway painted canvas of the naked woman, and taking an empty one. "So, French?"

"Yes, French."

"The color of your dress is one of my favorites," he commented with a smile, looking at you attentively as he mixed paints to come up with the perfect shade. "And the jewels contrast perfectly with everything."

The apricot orange silks of your dress did contrast perfectly with the necklace, gold accompanied by diamonds and carrying the bluest sapphires brought directly from the Americas.

"Almost as if I had chosen it on purpose knowing I was going to be painted by a skilled artist."

"I am flattered, my Lady."

You smiled, seeing as he started painting you. "You can call me by my name when no one is around."

"You as well." he agreed with a lopsided grin.

Slightly crooked teeth formed a smile that resembled the waxing crescent moon.

"So, Benedict… How long have you studied in the Academy?"

"Just a few weeks," he replied. "Does my poor experience show?"

"I picked you, and not precisely for your charm," you answered with a flirty smile. "Okay, perhaps I did! But I wouldn't want to embarrass you."

"How could I possibly have charmed you with a single glance?" he questioned with faux confusion.

"You underestimate yourself, it seems."

"It's part of my charm, if you must know."

He was the most enchanting individual you have ever encountered, and during the hours filled with fun small conversations in which you got to know each other, you regretted everything you told Antoinette about men.

It was wonderful that he never asked you for anything private, as if he knew which questions you would answer or not in advance.

"Do you come from a big family?" Benedict asked.

You shook your head. "Not really."

"Siblings?"

"Uh… one, my twin," you rushed to answer. "You?"

"Seven."

You gasped. "Seven?!"

"My parents used to have a lot of spare time or so it seems."

"I can't imagine how difficult it must have been to give birth and raise eight children!"

"It was hard work, I am sure."

"You looked like you were trouble, were you not?" you joked.

"What is there in me that screams trouble?" Benedict inquired, pretending to be offended.

"Everything, I should know."

He hummed. "What does that even mean, Y/N?"

"Make a guess."

"I could never."

"Then live under the shadows of ignorance, Benedict."

You both laughed, but as soon as you noticed his eyes locked on you, you returned to a neutral look.

"Wait, go back to that smile!" Benedict pleaded, and after a few seconds, you managed to. "That surely is a smile worthy of my first portrait."

"Oh, am I your first?" you questioned funnily, ignoring Antoinette's knowing look she threw from afar.

He chuckled loudly. "That sounded terribly not lady-like. Never say anything as such in front of Lord Carrington."

"I will take the advice," you answered. "But does it bother a gentleman like you?"

"On the contrary, I find it quite diverting."

"That is good since I said it to you."

He was finished, it took him a few hours, but you would approve of a conversation as such to last days, even. "It's done, come here."

You ran to him, looking at the painting he did of you smiling happily, which was uncommon for a portrait in the current days.

"It is perfect." You smiled, being closer to him than you had anticipated.

He smirked, and you could not help but melt under his glance. "I am glad you liked it."

"I, uh… must go, but you know what? I will have my brother find you and befriend you. He will study here."

"Are you artists, too?" Benedict asked.

"Uh…, no, not really," you answered. A lie. "He is the talented one, an artist if you have ever seen one, though not formally educated. And I am more inclined to literature."

"I believe you and my sister would be an insufferable pair."

You laughed. "Are you calling me insufferable? How disrespectful of you!"

"My apologies," he excused himself jokingly, standing up. "I hope I see you again, Lady Y/N."

"I hope so, too." You curved your lips.

He nodded and left you alone in the classroom.

"My, my…" Antoinette shook her head. "Not even a day has passed and you will have to eat your words."

"I will not eat anything, I was just being respectful."

"Respectful? Introducing yourself with only your Christian name is not respectful in the slightest, my Lady!"

"Oh, do not make a fuss out of this… One day people will introduce themselves with only their names, so I am just… a lady ahead of her time."

Antoinette sighed at your impertinence, giving you the clothes she carried in the suitcase. "Get changed before anyone comes in."

You did so, taking off your dress firstly and undoing the small, neatly combed, bun in your hair after. The corset was still on, and you took a piece of fabric that was in the suitcase and wrapped your cleavage with it. Antoinette helped you, and even though you could not properly breathe, you were happy.

Your cousin's attire fit you well enough, and you had at your disposition a pair of shoes your size. The diamonds and sapphires in your collarbones were quickly discarded, and ended up in the deepest pockets.

You tied your hair in a slipshod low bun, looking at Antoinette with a smile.

"Hello!" you exclaimed with a more grave voice and a sharper French accent, making her snort. "I am Mr. Voclain, enchanté."

"I am not sure men introduce themselves or, in general, act that way."

You clicked your tongue. "How would I know?"

"You live with one."

"My cousin does not count."

"How does he not?"

"He just doesn't, Antoinette, stop asking me questions!"

She sighed annoyed. "Clean up your face, you look like a woman."

You wrinkled your nose and did as you were told. "Go hide somewhere until I am done, alright?"

"Wait, that is not how a man stands!"

"It's not like I want to attract a lady's attention," you murmured. "Nor a man's."

Antoinette gave you a pointed look. "What is your name, my Lord?"

"Is it not too ambitious to call myself Lord?" you asked, rehearsing the masculine voice you would have to use. Antoinette shook her head. "Alright, I am Lord…" you paused for a few seconds, not knowing what your name would be until it occurred to you. "Antoine Voclain!"

"Antoine?"

"Antoine as in my loyal maid Antoinette who always supports me without complaint," you explained sarcastically. "Aren't I a handsome gentleman?"

"Do not get too confident over there, remember the things you said about them."

"Well, I am one of them now, so count me as a hideous being, too."

Antoinette was your age, a year or two older if anything. She acted as if she had twice that experience in life, a thing she took from her mother, who was your Mama's maid. Antoinette's mother was initially against you leaving for London, but knew there was nothing she or anyone could do or say to stop you from doing whatever was the thing that you pleased.

She sighed and left the classroom on her way to the carriage, leaving you in there alone with only your suitcase next to you.

There were all sorts of things. You arranged in a vase many flowers you found: carnations and poppies. The blue of the sapphires would contrast with the red hues of the flowers, but you kept the necklace only as a guide in your hands. You took fruits as well so you could eat meanwhile, not caring for their actual purpose.

You did not realize when the classroom got full of other men who joined you in painting the flowers on each of their individual canvases.

Different techniques and colors could be seen, though yours shone brighter as it came from an unfamiliar face with no formal artistic education.

Once you were finally finished, your hands and arms and even your face were stained of paint, you looked around and noticed the many other men who had joined you. You saved the jewels in your pocket again and did not leave until the 'Bourgogne' signature was there.

No one asked questions as you left, if you got a glance or two it would be saying too much. You walked out of the classroom and paced for a couple minutes until you saw a bathroom miraculously empty.

You cleaned yourself until there was no trace of paint in your skin, then left and looked for an empty classroom for more than you are willing to admit. Once you finally did, you got changed and quickly ran through the halls to try to find your godfather.

"Lady Y/N, why the hurry?"

"Oh, Lord Carrington… I was looking for you!" you exclaimed, fixing your hair.

"Shall we return home?"

You nodded eagerly.

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfiction

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katapotato55 · 6 months

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my theory as to why doomers exist (and how to break that mentality to be a better writer)

yesterday my sibling texted me "hey can you list me what major historical events you experienced in life for an assignment? " of course I listed the big ones like COVID and other depressing shit I went through in my life but most of the ones i listed were not super depressing. here are some of them: -the rise of steve jobs and the popularity of modern OS -the rise of smartphones -new technology completely changing the world that I thought I would never see in my lifetime, like VR and self driving cars. -massive cultural impacts such as spongebob being created affecting pop culture -the start of facebook and modern social media -pluto being declared not a planet yknow stuff on the top of my head that I thought would be interesting to write about.

then my sibling came home to tell me that most of what I sent was not helpful at all and that they meant "world events" And i asked "how the hell is the invention of the smart phone and the beginning of modern social media not considered "world events" by these standards" they said "idk just not that"

I think what they meant to say was "my teacher only wants the really depressing miserable shit the media thinks is headline worthy"

You know, I think this is why my generation is full of so many doomers. God forbid we have a positive outlook on this world and try and look at the bright side of things. god forbid we try to be optimistic for both the future and our current lives. we seem to have this thin veil of maturity that depressing=mature somehow. That the only way to make anything of nuance is to basically spam "look how shit everything is! look how enlightened I am" like you are Steve cutts.

well you know what ?

I hate art like the stuff steve cutts makes, and I hate this redundant "look how shit the world is" mentality

I plan on making an analysis post later on about Mr. Cutts, but for now let's stay on point this mentality is redundant and helps no one. yes. we do need to be aware of the bad parts of life. But being a pathetic miserable sod and ignoring the upsides is just as immature and childish as an aggressive optimist thinking the world is all sunshine and rainbows. you know why I like undertale so much ? Undertale knows when to be optimistic and has a mature take on a happy ending. Undertale ALLOWS itself to be happy. enough with the rick and morty level of writing where everything sucks and "fuck you in particular for being hopeful" only edgy 14 year olds think being depressing is the same as being mature. Maturity is understanding that there is nuance to everything and understanding that things are what they are. Do you want to be a good writer ? stop overly relying on being a sad doomer. Even the darkest writers in history like Edgar Allen Poe knew how to lighten the fuck up, because you need to understand the positives in life to effectively create dark writing.

thank you for reading this ironically negative rant, I plan to expand more on the subject later on.

EDIT

ngl i was honestly scared this post would open me up to harassment. I was genuinely terrified of attracting the psycho political crowd that treats politics like religious doctrine. first of all, shout out to this person:

I feel like this would be the perfect opportunity to talk about my struggle with depression as an artist and the stereotype behind it. the stereotype is that only the best artists are emotionally tortured people constantly struggling in agony and putting that into their art. now as someone who has been battling depression for 10 years let me tell you: that mentality is a load of horse shit. the greatest artists in history such as Van Gogh were not great artists because they were depressed they were great artists because they had a combination of passion and unique life experience. It just so happens that depression is a unique life experience to go through. being depressed does not make you deep, it just makes you feel empty and possibly sad depending on what flavor of depression you have. all the great stories about depression are not great because its about depression, but because its about the writers personal experiences and the love and hard work that went into making it. if Van gogh got treatment for his mental health issues, he would have still created art. Yes he created art as his job, but he also did it because he loved it and put his personal feelings and passion into his work. the biggest reason why I detest Steve Cutts is because there is no passion nor personal experience in his work. yes he is talented but most of his animations are just regurgitating all the bad things he could think of and nothing personal is going into it. (again I plan on making an analysis post about steve cutts sooner or later) What makes the art of Van Gogh deep and Steve Cutts as deep as a dry puddle is the fact that you can tell who put their own soul and personality into their work. heed my warning new artists and writers depression =/= deep all depression does is cripple you. Seek out life experience to be the best artist you can be.

#writing advice #writing #creative writing #writing help #writing tips #writer #writer on tumblr #writer problems #writer tips #writing community

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thedomesticanthropologist · 30 days

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Late night talks: Sivvus and Wyll

Wyll: "Ah well now, come on. It wasn't so bad. You make it sound so devastating, but really, I've never regretted the decision once in my life."

Sivvus: "Does not regretting your choices make the situation less devastating? I was not aware regret was required for accurate measurement of how unfortunate something is."

Wyll: "I mean, I do so much Good. I saved my people, I Defend The Coast. Arguably I can do more now than I ever could have, staying in Baldurs Gate. "

Sivvus: "So the benefits you provide to others offset the tragedy of being fundamentally rejected by the only blood kin you'd ever known or admired?"

Wyll: "Sivvus, you are a *dour* man. But yes. I think it does. I am happy, genuinely. This life suits me! I help others, defeat evil. It's a good thing."

Sivvus: "Funnily enough, I never argued the points that you make. I simply fail to see why you insist on putting up a partition of heroics between yourself and your circumstances.

You willingly riding the winds of change does not stop the wind from existing. It must, in fact, be present in order to ride it."

Wyll: "I do not deny my past, if that is what you are saying."

Sivvus: "No? Oh, of course not. You simply hide form it, avoid it, re-name yourself to escape it, and bring it up only when it is revealed by outside sources. When questioned, you do not /deny/ anything, so much as stack what you have done in your life against what was done to you in an attempt to.... what? I see no balancing of scales here, Wyll, but plenty of Burying under mountains of Worthy Deeds. "

Wyll: ".... maybe. You might have a point. What about you, though? Or is it only my fate to be grilled over the hot coals of your observations?"

Sivvus: "I do the grilling. You.... sizzle."

Wyll: "Well, consider me cooked, roasted, charred, and ready to get off this pyre. Good night, Sivvus."

Sivvus: "...... good night, 'Blade of Frontiers'."

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #wyll ravengard #bg3 wyll #blade of frontiers #sivvus the snob #sivvus the fey prince #tav oc #bg3 oc

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hamartia-grander · 11 months

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Please I’m begging you on my hands and knees please elaborate on Luis and Ada being foils

I am SO happy that someone finally asked me to talk about this I know I asked you to ask me I love you so much thank you because once I had this realisation it made me love both of their characters - and the re4 remake as a whole - so much more than I already did.

Explanation below the cut:

So first lemme define what a foil is when it comes to characters, not because I think you personally don't know Wilfred but in case anyone's reading this and wondering why I'm calling these characters aluminum wrap. I'm not, I promise it's a real narrative device. A literary foil is "a character whose purpose is to accentuate or draw attention to the qualities of another character". Essentially, a foil requires two characters to be identified, and they exist to contrast, reflect, or exist in an opposite way to their co-foil so as to highlight the other character's weaknesses, strengths, and personality. However, they are often also very similar in technical ways, and thus their behaviours and/or quirks that set them apart show the audience how some things just work for one character but not the other. Think of it like an inverted image, how some details look better in negative space but worse in positive space. This is true of narrative foils. In the remake of Resident Evil 4, Luis is written as a literary foil to Ada.

We first meet Ada in re2, and she's introduced as this mysterious woman who claims to be of the FBI but reveals no further details about herself. We as the audience/player behind Leon have to trust her to get to where we need to go, and she proves herself worthy of that trust. Leon doesn't question why she's helping him, because he believes that she really is FBI and that helping people is her job. He doesn't know her goal, but he's willing to help, and receive her help. However, at the end of re2, we find out that she's actually not FBI, that she was using that as a cover and she is actually a mercenary and spy, whose goal was to acquire a sample of the harmful G-virus and bring it to Wesker who was obviously going to use it for nefarious purposes, and she knew that. Leon (the audience) doesn't know this until the very end.

We first meet Luis in re4. Now in the original, he barely had any substance as a character, and his personality was simply an expression of cultural stereotypes and misogyny, masked under "charming flamboyance". In the remake, however, Luis does have substance as a character. We not only get more out of his personality, but we now know his goals, his flaws, and his interests. And just like Ada, he is a mysterious character with a dark past that led to him making bad decisions and aligning himself with bad people. However, the difference between them and the beginning of what sets them up as foils is that Leon (the audience) finds all of this out about Luis almost immediately. Unlike with Ada, where Leon took her word and went the entire game believing what she said, Leon was sceptical of Luis and had Hunnigan look him up - and sure enough, Hunnigan was able to find all sorts of information on Luis, despite Luis actively trying to make that information as well as himself untraceable. So rather than having the audience trust Luis outright like we did with Ada, and then having that trust threatened when we learn who she is later one, we learn who Luis is immediately, setting him up as someone who we should be sceptical of.

With Ada, by giving us a character to trust and see good in for an entire game only to end it with the reveal that she's actually working for the "bad guys", we are led to think that all of her actions up to that point were fake, that she was simply putting on a cover of kindness and care for Leon. And of course that's the wrong idea, as she clearly does care for him, which we see when he stupidly dares her to shoot him. And she refuses. IDK, even if I loved Leon, I would've shot him then just because he was being a cocky shit about it, but Ada is certainly stronger than me. Ada's actions prior to us finding out who she really is now are tainted, and we're led to see her actions as that of a facade. Adversely, with Luis, by giving us a character who's bad past we know outright and repeatedly meet up with throughout the game, we are led to see all of his actions from that point on as acts of redemption.

We first see Ada as a Good character and therefore all of her actions are that of someone just being herself, but with Luis we first see him as a Bad character, and therefore all of his actions are that of someone who must redeem himself. However, they are both very similar characters; but in the way the stories introduced them to us, and in the order they revealed information about these two characters to us, the narrative influences how we see these characters. Imagine if we had gone the entire game not knowing Luis used to work for Umbrella, thinking he was just Some Guy who happened to live in this village. Leon most definitely would have trusted him much quicker. But that 'Umbrella' background being the first real thing we learn about Luis means that his dark past will always be on our minds when we see him next. And it makes sense to us, given the events of re2, that Leon wouldn't trust Luis, even if the audience does. (Same with Ada; the audience could be distrusting of her, but narratively we see why Leon would've trusted her implicitly in re2.)

Both Luis and Ada are mysterious characters whose real moral alignment we are uncertain of for almost the entirety of their games. Both Luis and Ada tell lies to protect themselves or their cover. Both Luis and Ada withhold information they either feel too ashamed to admit or can't admit, again, to protect their cover. Both Luis and Ada - specifically in re4r - have a recurring theme of change. They both speak to Leon about people changing. They both show their own relationships with change. And yet, their endings are vastly different.

Where Ada withholds information and succeeds, Luis withholds information and is found out by Hunnigan. Where Ada can double cross Wesker and escape, Luis attempts to double cross Los Iluminados and gets found out and captured, which is how we meet him. Where Ada gains Leon's trust almost immediately and loses it at the end, Luis doesn't gain Leon's trust until the very end. Even when Leon shows situational trust in him - accepting Luis's help in the safe house, agreeing to partner with him to get the suppressant for the plaga for Ashley - he still doesn't trust Luis's motives, his goal, or even his character. Leon constantly questions Luis throughout their interactions, unwilling to believe this man would help them unless he had some ulterior motive.

That brings back up the theme of change. Luis asks Leon if he thinks people can change, and then Leon asks Ada if she has changed. Luis's death scene could very well be the first time - or at least, the first significant time - Leon has been forced to confront the idea that people change. His confusion regarding Luis's real motives the entire time as a result of learning that Luis used to work for Umbrella seems to be proof enough to Luis that Leon does not see him as someone who has changed, even though Luis desperately wants that to be seen. Adversely, Leon desperately wants to see some proof that Ada has changed, that she's not using him. He's learned from Luis, but he's stumped by his own personal lack of change. Leon doesn't understand how to identify that kind of change in someone; or at the very least, he doesn't know how to voice it. Ada replies "what do you think?", and this could be passed off as her usual way of avoiding the truth, but really she's asking him "Are you even able to know if I've changed? Did you ever pay attention to who I am, or did you lose sight of my character as soon as you learned something bad about me? Have I changed, or has your perception of me changed? Can I change to you if you never really knew me at all? What do you think about how people change?" (And I love this about her.) Luis is Ada's foil because the way Leon perceived Luis's change was so abrupt that now Leon is looking for change in everyone, even himself. And where Luis doubts himself and has to ask Leon - as he's dying - if Leon thinks people can change, Ada is sure of it.

And of course I have to add some serennedy in this. As @thebrokengate kindly mentioned, the dynamics between Leon and Ada, and Leon and Luis, are opposite. Leon trusts Ada and then that trust is broken; Leon doesn't trust Luis, and then that trust is earned, but too late. Luis isn't just a foil for Ada, but his relationship with Leon is also a foil for Ada's. We see where Luis fails in ways that Ada succeeded when it comes to their characters; but when it comes to their relationship with Leon, Luis succeeds where Ada failed. And it makes his death even more devastating as he had the potential to go further with Leon than Ada could, but he was killed, leaving Leon alone regardless. In both instances, Leon lost someone who affected him personally; but where one was lost with trust broken, the other was lost with their life taken.

Again, by giving us Ada's personality first and her background last, we soften up to her as a character before having to question everything we thought we knew about her, as who we find out she is contradicts what her actions have been. However, by giving us Luis's background first and his personality last, we start out sceptical of him, and when his actions contradict what we found out about who he is, we forgive him. I'll also take this opportunity to point out the misogyny in this fandom, as many fans still dislike Ada or believe her to be a bad person, when they love Luis. in many ways, they are the same character. We were just given details about them in a different order that influenced how we perceive their actions.

#this was. really disorganised and all out of my brain so I'm sorry if I failed to convey some things I just have so many feelings ab this #Ada Wong #Luis Serra #Luis Serra Navarro #serennedy #resident evil #resident evil 4 remake #re4 remake #resident evil 2 #resident evil 4 #re4 #re2 #leon kennedy #leon s. kennedy #literary analysis #asks #Thank you sm Wilfred I'm sorry for making you read so many words #resident evil analysis

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beta-lactam-allergic · 3 months

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Hey I just wanted to say thank you so much for your support of the Jewish community, it really means a lot to us (any time, but especially now).

I noticed that you said you're an Indigenous Australian, and I was wondering if there's any ways we can help support you and your community? (Indigenous Australians in general, or your specific nation) I'm not Australian, but I know y'all have definitely suffered discrimination and worse at the hands of the government and society (and still are).

I honestly wasn't expecting thanks. It seemed like the bare minimum, it should be the bare minimum. The fact that it isn't & is rare enough that you felt the need to thank me is more an indictment on the failures of most people in my opinion. I admit, it does feel nice to be thanked though.

If I had donated to multiple Israeli charities I would feel worthy of praise. But the only one I have donated to is Ogen's "Swords of Iron Emergency Economic Relief Fund". I donated about $100USD (they didn't give the option to donate in AUD).

If you still want to help my people than I would suggest donating to the Aboriginal Legal Service (for Aboriginal people needing legal support in NSW & ACT), North Australian Aboriginal Justice Agency, abbreviated as NAAJA (same as the Legal Service but for NT), ALSWA (literally just the Aboriginal Legal Service of Western Australia), The Fred Hollows Foundation (it's owned by white people, but it does good work, & without it the blindness rate for us would be double what it is), or one of the many Aboriginal Medical Services. Each community has their own AMS with their own names (the AMS abbreviation comes from the very first such organisation, AMS Redfern, which is the one you will most likely find if you do a Google search, it serves the Aboriginal community in Sydney, which isn't where I'm from), with widely varying level of effectiveness depending on management. The one servicing people in my area is one of the less effective ones, though most of us rely on it for lack of alternatives.

Once again, most of us can't afford either legal representation or visits to the GP, so donating to an AMS or an aboriginal legal service will help most of the us. I actually have some money, so I don't use the local AMS, instead going to see a GP who mostly services the LGBTQ community.

Calling out antisemites when they are being antisemitic is just the right thing to do. From a moral perspective, letting people victim-blame Israel for the war Hamas started is wrong. Letting people peddle falsehoods & antisemitic libel without calling it out was the same as condoning it. I saw people celebrate the October 7th pogrom outside the Sydney Opera House, long before the Israelis were able to launch counter-attacks on Gaza. I saw people on this site act like Hamas were angels when those murderers bragged & posted the footage of their atrocities for the world to see. I couldn't stay silent as these terrorists were praised after murdering people, raping people, kidnapping people. I couldn't stay silent when people denied these crimes happened despite the overwhelming evidence, despite Hamas not only admitting to it, but proclaiming their desire to do it again & again until there were no more Jews to attack. To stay silent was at best condoning those who would deny what happened.

That alone was enough for me to pick a side, but that's just emotions. If emotions hadn't moved me, my logical side would have still intervened to back Israel & condemn antisemitism.

Defending Israel's right to exist is just basic logical consistency. Even without the moral component of the fact that Hamas committed atrocities on October 7th & are proud of it, I have other principles. Admittingly, some of these started pretty self-serving but applying these principles consistently rather than only when it benefits me leads to altruism, so here we are.

I was going to write the list of principles, but it's a very long list, so that's a separate document. In the meanwhile, I'll summarise two of the parts of the principles list affecting my POV here (though not the only parts, they're the easiest parts to point out).

In essence, I consider the Jewish people to have a better claim to being the native people of Israel/West Bank than the Palestinian Arabs do. I know that some Palestinian Arabs have Jewish ancestry, but I consider indigeneity to be as much about culture as blood, so if they fully adopted the invader's culture & identify as Arabs, they voided any claims to indigeneity they once had as far as I'm concerned. Yeah the first 9 points in the principles list were about native sovereignty. I still think a two-state solution is the best chance for a long-term peace, but that's pragmatism over the fact that the Arabs are there now & aren't going to leave, not an endorsement of their claims to indigeneity.

In addition, I'm a transwoman, not straight (bisexual, not sure where on Kinsey scale) & an atheist. Hamas would kill me if I was somewhere they could reach me for being myself regardless of anything else I did or didn't do. It's just logical to back the side that won't kill me for being a queer non-believer & which actually gives us rights. Actually LGBT rights also made up several more points in the principle lists.

Basically I was locked in to supporting Israel on basic morality & on ideological consistency. I don't see the point in thanking me, but it does feels nice that you did thank me so I guess thanks in return.

#ask response #hi jewishpangolin #antisemitism #i stand with israel #aboriginal australian #aboriginal medical service #ams #lgbt #indigenous #indigeneity #colonialism #arab colonialism #atheist-jewish solidarity #aboriginal legal service #fred hollows foundation

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exeggcute · 2 months

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the pendulum of opinion swingeth I guess. and swingeth wildly lol. the "addiction isn't real" shit feels a lot like the "disability is primarily a social/accessibility issue (rather than a medical issue)" shit to me because I think they both mean well and come from the same impulse (i.e., a desire not to pathologize traits that are actually "normal"/common/otherwise value-neutral) but do so in a way that not only starts with a conclusion and works backwards to prove it, which is obviously not the best approach, but also tries to hard to dodge an existing pitfall that it creates new and exciting pitfalls in the process.

uncharitable 2 AM thoughts but chewing it over I also am starting to wonder if like, okay. zeroing in on the disability part here because I think that's both a broader category and further up the river of conclusions. I do kind of get the sense that the "in a perfectly just and accommodating world, no one would be disabled" angle tends to come most forcefully from people whose perspective on disability either focuses solely on neurodivergence or on (surface-level) mobility issues specifically. things that affect how you navigate the world, essentially. because those are for sure two areas where social improvements have a huge and positive impact! maybe even two areas where you could reasonably argue that social improvements are enough to remove the barriers that "disable" people in a verb way, full stop.

but extrapolating that to all forms of disability is less useful, because not all disabilities are primarily issues of accessibility, and if it's not broadly true across the board then I think its fair to say it's just basically not true. you end up glossing over too much shit. not that social improvements aren't helpful, but many disabilities come from the fact that your body needs to do certain things to stay alive but is not always good at doing them properly, so you're gonna have to address that directly at some point. I don't think it's an accessibility issue when your trachea collapses or your kidneys start to give out or your immune system starts tearing up the wires in your spine. and yeah you could circle back to say, well, the accessibility piece here is really about access to treatment, which is fair! but that still requires finding and developing treatment in the first place, which leads us back to the "this is a pathology to fix/address" thing. permanent treatment or otherwise. I guess I think it's not only true that some states of physiological equilibrium are like, objectively ideal, but also possible to accept that premise without fucking over anyone who isn't in that equilibrium. or even zooming out, I think it's possible to strive for a cure to to "my body is bad at surviving"-type conditions in a way that doesn't also imply that the people with those conditions are not worthy of surviving otherwise. and I think that if we ever figure out a cure for celiac disease there's gonna be parades in the streets

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fungalfaggot · 6 months

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So like. Why is homewrecking good actually? Genuinely curious. Like if you're fucking a republican senator or their wife or smth that's one thing. Kind of a big thing to just as a blanket statement say is good though

first of all u should kill that old man and his wife, cucking ain't enough. secondly the idea of cheating in the very first place only makes sense if you cede the point that someone in a relationship with you deserves to have control over what you choose to do and who you choose to see which is something i do not agree with. thirdly sometimes a home need wrecking my friend a relationship is not inherently good or worthy of respect because it exists and I'm sure we all can think of a relationship that was both not good and difficult to exit from in our own lives, if I'm in a relationship with someone i don't care for anymore but am dependent on is it fair to demand i turn my world upside down, risk houselessness etc before ever like just having a fun night with someone else i actually care for. and lastly I have no respect for the institution of monogamy. much like being cisgender i don't think there's a way to really "choose" it if u actually do the work to really think these concepts thru and the only reason they exist is external force and self-delusion

#rotasks

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barcingmatter · 1 year

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The Beginning (Star Witch Au)

"-And thats why I can't become a witch."

The middle aged person across from Danny hummed quietly for a moment, sipping at their tea while he looked back down at the book in his lap, the title 'A Witchlets Guide To Apprenticeship' taunting him.

"And your parents won't let you apply for the public mentorship? There is one in Amity Park that's always accepting applicants," they set their cup down, looking through the tea leaves left in the bottom.

Danny set the book on the table to join the others he'd been picking through. The library's decent selection on becoming a witch only frustrated him.

How was he supposed to put any of the books to use in his situation?

He huffed, sinking into the plush chair. "No, they're only willing to consider it if I can manage to get a private mentorship. They're only doing it because they KNOW I don't know anyone who can do mentoring. They want me to give up and become a scientist like them," he droned.

The person across from him didn't look up from their tea leaves, like they were looking for something.

"I'm curious," they began, "why do you want to become a witch so bad?"

"Well- its kinda- I mean most people think it's kinda childish-"

"I assure you even if it's childish it won't mean any less."

Danny turned to them and they finally looked back, porcelain cup abandoned on the table. "I... I wanna be worthy of the stars."

They raised an eyebrow. "Worthy of the stars?"

The library was quiet for a moment, save for the subtle 'tick, tock' of a pocket watch hanging from the elders necklace.

"The stars guide people who are lost, and they tell stories and preserve history. They're always there, they help people, kinda... I wanna be like that. I wanna be like the stars, and I wanna know them," he explained.

The elder stood, leaving their cup in its place on the table and picking up one of the books Danny was looking through before their conversation began. "Not many witches do private mentorships outside of family or monetary gain. It would be easier for you to give up and listen to your parents wishes. You might not be good enough to make it to an academy anyways, much less gain an artifact."

Their pocketwatch ticked just a bit faster.

Danny glared at his pile of books, "it would, but that would be stupid. If I gave up on it now I'd probably hate myself for the rest of my life. And then I'd die and still hate myself for not trying." He picked up one of the books and cracked it open, ready to start looking for something, maybe a loophole that would work.

"Alright," they smirked, standing in front of the boy. "I'll mentor you."

The book tumbled to the floor as Danny looked up at the person quick enough to give himself whiplash, "huh?"

"You need a mentor, and I am certified to do so. I only have one condition," they grabbed their necklace, flicking open the pocketwatch.

Danny scrambled to his feet, half sure he was having some weird lucid dream, "yeah anything! Well, not my soul but I mean other than that-!"

"If I mentor you, you will not be allowed to quit. You'll have to push through to graduation, no matter what."

Icy blue met muted red, and Danny nodded enthusiastically.

"Of course! I'm not gonna give up, not when I actually have a chance!" He grinned, hands trembling with energy. Could this really be happening? Could he finally have his in?

"Well then, Daniel-"

"Wait how did you know my name?"

"-I'm clockwork, and I'd be happy to take you on as my apprentice."

They stuck out a hand, Roman numerals and curved lines running along the skin from the palm until it disappeared under a sweater sleeve.

Danny grabbed it, shaking perhaps a bit too excitedly.

The pocketwatch stopped ticking, the stars shone a tad bit brighter, just for a moment.

The tea leaves at the bottom of an old porcelain cup resembled a star.

⏳️____✨️

And that marks the start of danny becoming a witch in this au!

This au is based off of this post I made.

To make it make a bit more sense, in this au magic is practiced by humans and exists parallel to science and the modern world, kinda like little witch academia. Anyone can become a witch but you have to have completed a year long mentorship (at least) to qualify for any magic academy.

Only certain witches are qualified to be a mentor, with it essentially like being certified to be a teacher. Most mentors do public mentorships, mentor a specific family, or get hired on a witch by witch basis.

Clockwork just so happens to be certified, and as a time witch they knew that in quite a few timelines they'd mentor Danny, so they arranged it so they'd 'coincidentally' end up at the library at the same time as the kid trying to look into mentorships. Totally coincidental, not at all staged. Time magic.

Let me know if you want more of this au!

#danny phantom #danny fenton #not barcs art #star witch au #danny phantom drabble #danny phantom au #clockwork #danny phantom fanfiction #dp au

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ave09 · 10 months

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improv

young!harrison ford x reader

note: i have two more of these at the ready so i can celebrate this man’s birthday.

“why are you laughing!”

you doubled over, your laughter only growing louder. the entire crew was staring at you although you were insane.

“i’m fucking exhausted.” you choked out between giggles. it had been a long night shoot, close to a twenty-three hour day. you had been running the same scenes with harrison over and over because george lucas did not find any of the takes good enough to work.

so yeah, it was safe to say you were exhausted.

“okay, can we just get one last take, please? then we’ll stop?” george asked.

you nodded, regaining yourself. the lines that needed to be said flowed throughout your mind, you cleared your throat, glancing up at harrison. “you ready?” he asked.

“yup.” you replied.

“scene five, take twelve, action.”

harrison immediately was in character, “i don’t understand you, anya, one minute you’re all over me and the next i don’t exist!”

“han-“

“no, don’t ‘han’ me.” he huffed, throwing his hands up in the air, exasperated, “am i an idiot or was there something between us that night?”

you remained silent, as was written in the script, gazing at harrison as he continued with his lines, “well aren’t ya gonna say anything? or am i just making a fool of myself for nothing?”

you opened your mouth to speak, but it was as if the line had been sucked from your mind. you’d run this goddamn scene twelve times now and you forgot the line!?

so, you resorted to improv.

and you did the first thing that came to mind. you stalked toward the man, standing up on your tiptoes before smashing your lips against his. the man stumbled back slightly, taken by surprise at the unexpected action.

you pulled away, clearing your throat, “sorry..” you mumbled, breaking character. but harrison continued on, taking a step towards you, his large hands cupping your face, “well if ya wanted to kiss me, sweetheart, you could’ve just said it. we didn’t need all the dramatics.” he then kissed you sweetly.

this was the thing about harrison. he could take almost anything and turn it into something oscar-worthy.

“and… cut!” you and harrison jumped apart, you turned your head, catching sight of george lucas smiling brightly, “that was wonderful!”

you let out a sigh of relief, “are we done now?” you asked as politely as possible. the man nodded, “yes, we’re finished for the day. the two of you are free to head to your trailers and then head home. we’ll finish packing up.”

you bid harrison, george, and the rest of the crew goodbye before heading to your trailer. you quickly changed out of your costume, hanging it up in its rightful spot. thankfully your hairstyle wasn’t as elaborate as carrie’s was, just some braids and curls.

you gathered your things, turned off the light and pushed open the trailer door. you were surprised to find harrison waiting for you.

you arched your brows, “how long have you been out here?” you asked, closing the door behind you, descending the steps, “not long.” he replied.

you now stood beside him, staring at him in confusion, “sorry, did you need something?”

“uh.. no.. well actually yes.” you bit your lip, exhaling deeply, “harrison, i’m really tired, is there anyway we could do this in the morning?”

“i’ll be quick. i promise.” and with that assurance, you crossed your arms over your chest, “okay, what’s up?”

“what happened in there?” he said abruptly. you furrowed your brows, “what?”

harrison scratched at the scar on his chin, pursing his lips, “well, uh, you kissed me.” slowly, you nodded. “yeah, i kinda forgot my line and just went with the flow.”

the man fell silent, it looked as though he was thinking about something. you lifted a hand over your mouth, stifling your yawn. “is that all?” you asked.

he shook his head, silent still. you ran a hand through your hair, “listen, i’m exhausted so if you have something to say, please just say it.”

you were practically begging now. you wanted nothing more then to sleep peacefully for hours.

“would you wanna go out sometime?”

was it just your exhaustion or had he just asked you out? had the harrison ford actually wanted to go out with you?

“huh?”

he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “y’know… lunch, dinner, i don’t know.” you couldn’t help but send him a smile, “sure.”

“sure?”

“yeah, i’d love to go out with you, harrison. but can’t we plan something tomorrow?” the man nodded, “yeah, yeah, of course.”

you adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder, stepping close towards the man, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “goodnight harrison.”

“goodnight.”

and while your exhaustion made everything from the night before fuzzy, you knew one thing for sure. harrison, your attractive and talented costar, had asked you out.

and you were beyond excited to see where this could go.

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