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heliads · 9 months

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I love you writing and I was hoping you could write Ben Florian x VK!Reader the reader is Lefou's kid. A soulmate AU where the negative things you think about yourself are marked on your soulmate's skin. Reader only has one or two things because Ben is from Auradon and has a good life and family. While Ben has around half a dozen. Reader is the one who gives Ben the love potion. During the lake scene they notice Ben is their soulmate and tries (but fails) to hide it thinking he deserves better

masterlist

There really is no good place for a prince. They are political figureheads in every sense of the phrase— too young to actually rule, too old to be allowed to skip state functions. They sit in corners of expensive meetings and cut ribbons in front of newly opened buildings, but they can’t do a whole lot except smile and pose.

Shame your friend seems so fixated on capturing one, then. It feels like you’ve just barely left the Isle of the Lost, only bid farewell to the entirety of your prior life experience hours ago, and yet already Mal is scheming about how to best tear down everything around you. If Prince Ben is the best way to fulfill her nefarious plans, then so be it.

The only problem is that you’re now involved in all of this, too. Mal wants a wand and so she’ll take a prince to get there, but as one of her best friends, you’ve been drafted into the plot to catch a prince. Ben won’t have any idea what’s coming. Shame, he would probably run if he had any clue.

Mal’s good at covering her tracks, though, she always has been. You can remember elaborate plans from when you were much younger to steal cookies or cloaks, spellbooks and shoes. At this point, hearing Mal tell you that she’s going to bewitch the crown prince of Auradon into falling in love with her shouldn’t surprise you, just the fact that she’s taken this long to come up with the idea.

Usually, you have no problem going along with Mal’s little adventures. They’re entertaining, at the least, a good way to pass a few days when you’ve already gone over every alleyway and hiding place on the Isle at least a dozen times in the last month. The issue is that you’re not on the Isle anymore, and maybe– just maybe– disrupting everything here isn’t entirely what you want to do.

Mal doesn’t know this, of course. None of your fellow VKs do. Every time they monologue and moan about how they can’t wait to get out of this place, you find yourself holding your tongue, biting back your real thoughts about how the school isn’t actually as bad as you feared. Sure, the constant judgment from the other children of princes and princesses isn’t all that fun, but Auradon Prep has its positives, too. For one thing, you think your soulmate might be here.

What a terrible thing for the child of a villain to prioritize. You’ve heard Mal scoff at the idea of a soulmate, and although Evie is certainly more interested in the idea than some of your other friends, you’re still not sure that you’d find a welcome audience amongst their ranks when it comes to tracking down your soulmate. After all, the odds of that soulmate being from Auradon and not the Isle are pretty high. They’ve all but told you that themselves.

All things considered, for a society with such control over magic and spells, it’s pretty difficult to find your soulmate. You’d always wondered why those in charge couldn’t shorten the whole affair to something more simple– a name on the wrist, perhaps, or an invisible string that only the two of you could see– but instead, soulmate magic went the complicated route. How lovely.

The story about the origin of the soulmate magic is convoluted and ancient, going back generations and changing with each family. The general consensus is that soulmates were created to preserve the sanctity of true love, with the idea that soulmates should be able to love each other entirely, flaws and all. So, when you think something negative about yourself, those very same thoughts will show up on the skin of your soulmate, something like a warning label for what they’re going to get themselves into.

This is all well and good for people with few negative thoughts, maybe they’ll have something here and there about a bad sports result or a poor test grade that their soulmate can chuckle over before meeting them. For you, though? You, the child of a villain, cursed to live forever on a too-small island with the other convicts and criminals, you have had more fears and hated things about yourself than most. Your soulmate must be covered in unhappy musings, which only makes you feel worse about yourself than before. A self-perpetuating cycle of the worst kind.

By contrast, the startling absence of your soulmate’s negative thoughts on your own skin makes you certain that they couldn’t be from the Isle of the Lost. There are only one or two fears on your skin, proof of loving parents and a stable home, and they’re minor things like a bad hair day or a fear of not doing their absolute best. These change, often leaving every few months to be replaced by something else insignificant.

What makes you most certain that your soulmate is the child of a royal is the one negative thought that has stayed on your skin since the very beginning. Your soulmate, whoever they are, is terrified that they will let down the king and queen. Only someone with close ties to the royalty could have such a fear, so it’s proof that your soulmate is somewhere here on Auradon.

So maybe you don’t want to leave this place, not yet. Not until you can learn who your soulmate is. It’ll be almost impossible to track them down on this information alone, but supposedly that’s how the whole thing is supposed to work. You learn about the worst parts of your soulmate, and then you get to love the best of them. The only problem is that you’re fairly sure that if your soulmate is a royal, they won’t want to love you at all.

It’s easier to ignore the whole affair. Easier to agree to Mal’s plan when she proposes enchanting Prince Ben. At least another one of your friend’s schemes will keep your mind off the soulmate affair.

That’s what you tell yourself, at least, but your conscience is starting to get steadily more vocal as the days go by. Ben is a nice guy, which hurts, surprisingly. Although the love spell may have been cast on Mal, as one of Mal’s closest friends, you’re around the two of them all the time. The boy you see is someone that you wish could be your soulmate. He may be a prince, and you may be a villain, but he makes you want to believe in love after all.

You certainly have the capacity for such musings. For some reason, the love spell didn’t take all that well, and although Ben is now compelled to stay with Mal more than he was before, it’s not like he’s totally obsessed with her as Mal had hoped. Mal claims it’s because love spells can never work fully due to the soulmate issue, like having a soulmate is a kind of shield to protect you against that sort of enchantment, but regardless, Ben has just enough independent thought that he can tell you jokes and try to make you smile like– well, like he tries to do with Mal.

The realization that Ben is a genuinely good person, and worse, someone you don’t want to trick, haunts you as you fall further into Mal’s scheme. You’ve been trying to push the whole thing from your mind, letting Ben join your soulmate in the depths of your mind you don’t want to touch, but your train of thought keeps circling back to him despite your best attempts otherwise.

Besides, it doesn’t help that Mal keeps trying to involve you in the plot. Right now, the two of them are at the Enchanted Lake, out on a cute little date. Mal had been making mock disgusted faces at you the whole time she was getting ready, but some part of yourself can’t stop whispering that this doesn’t seem so bad, actually, that the thought of being out here alone with Ben would make for a wonderful day instead of the tedious chore Mal is making it out to be.

Ben doesn’t know you’re here, though. Mal wanted backup in case something happened, so you’re lingering in the woods to keep anyone from stumbling upon the scene and also holding onto more magical baked goods in case Mal feels the need to renew the spell. It’s kind of like torture, strolling through this beautiful forest, knowing that Ben is so close and you are helping hold him under the thrall of this plot.

The storm in your mind must be thundering too loudly for you to think straight, because you lose track of yourself and accidentally walk too close to the lake. You weren’t supposed to be spotted, but before you can back away and melt back into the foliage, Ben looks up and sees you. You panic, immediately heading the way you’d come, but you hear footsteps after you moments later and Ben manages to track you down before you can go too far. Mal is so going to kill you for messing with her plan.

“Sorry,” you murmur, eyes wide when he finally catches up to you, “I didn’t realize the two of you were– I’ll go now.”

Ben shakes his head. “No, no, it’s alright. It’s not like we have a monopoly on the woods.”

He’s dripping water, most likely due to a recent dip in the lake, and you can’t seem to stop your gaze from following the path of the droplets as they cascade down his shoulders, across his hands, and, most importantly of all, over the swooping letters of the fears of his soulmates.

Usually, Ben wears long sleeves or something else to hide them. You can see why now– there are many of them, many more than you, perhaps half a dozen in all. You can’t read all of them from where you’re standing, just snippets about how a villain’s kid shouldn’t have a soulmate, how they’ll never amount to much, things like that. Things like what you’ve been thinking recently.

Ben must catch on to your train of thought, because he smiles weakly, absentmindedly scratching at a sentence proclaiming that his soulmate isn’t worth the good luck they get. “Yeah, my soulmate’s a little stressed, I guess. Hopefully, I can talk about that with them soon. I want them to know that they’re worth it, wherever they are.”

It had never occurred to you that hating yourself would make your soulmate this obsessed. You have no proof that Ben is your soulmate but–

But, as you watch, you can see a new fear appearing out of nowhere, wrapping itself around Ben’s left wrist. I’m not good enough for a soulmate this good. Just what you were thinking mere moments ago. It’s like proof.

Ben looks up slowly, and although you were never blessed with the ability to read minds, you swear you can tell exactly what he’s thinking right now. “Are you–” he starts, ends, tries again, “Do you know who your soulmate is?”

You can do several things at this moment. You can confirm what you’re mostly sure is true, you can lie, you can pretend you hadn’t heard him. You spot movement in the trees behind him, a flash of purple, and remember belatedly that Mal is still somewhere at the Enchanted Lake, waiting for Ben to come back and wondering why you’re holding him here for so long.

All of a sudden, the reality of the situation comes crashing down around your shoulders. This is not something that can happen. Ben is a prince. You are the child of a villain, and the friend of another VK who’s counting on you to continue fooling Ben so she can pursue her latest mad plan. There is no world in which this works out.

So, you force a smile, banishing all thoughts back into the deep recesses of your brain once more. “No,” you say, “I don’t know. I think they’re a VK, though.”

Ben’s face falls in a flash. “Really? Because I thought–”

You shake your head quickly. “I don’t– it’s not me. I think Mal is waiting for you, though. You shouldn’t keep her for long.”

Ben glances back over his shoulder in memory of the girl he’s left somewhere in the woods behind him, and when he looks back, you’re gone. You’re good at running. It’s a skill you’ve perfected over the years. You just never thought you’d have to use it now.

Prince Ben is your soulmate. Impossible. True. Mal comes back later that afternoon, tells you the date went splendidly despite your accidental intrusion. Ben must not have let the brief moment in the woods faze him for long. It hurts more than you care to admit.

There is only so much running a VK can do, try as they might to pretend otherwise. You avoid Ben at all costs, hoping that whatever foolish war is currently being fought inside your heart will come to a tolerable ceasefire if you just ignore it long enough. Mal tells you that the plan is going swimmingly, she’s never seen the prince more excited about the VKs and the upcoming coronation. You nod and smile and tell her that you’re glad everything is going to plan, but inside, you cannot seem to stop your mind from screaming.

And then, all of a sudden, despite your best attempts to remain out of sight, Prince Ben finds you. It’s completely out of the blue, so casual that you almost don’t realize it’s happening until he’s sitting down at your table in the library and it’s too late to run.

You feel like an animal caught in a trap. He’s just smiling like nothing is the matter. “I know it’s you,” he says by way of hello.

Your heart is stuck in your throat. “What?”

“I know it’s you,” Ben repeats, “I know you’re my soulmate. I had the Fairy Godmother do a little spell so I could check for you, but I think I knew since that day at the lake.”

You frown. “You can do that?”

He shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. “Not everyone can, I think. But I, uh, insisted.”

You grin. “Prince privileges?”

“Something like that.” He’s smiling, though, maybe pleased that you’re not trying to run off this time. “But you knew even without the spell, didn’t you?”

That does shake your uncertain sense of calm. “Yes,” you admit, “but I didn’t think you— I didn’t think it would work out.”

The look on Ben’s face is genuinely heartbreaking. “What, just because I’m a prince?”

He says it so casually, it’s almost funny. “Yes, Ben, because you’re a prince and I’m a VK. I mean, my dad was Lefou. He literally tried to ruin the happy ever after of your parents, why would you want someone like me to be your soulmate?”

“Same reason you shouldn’t be afraid to want me. You’re not your father, Y/N, and I’m not my parents. We’re just us, and I know that I want you to be my soulmate. I have since the start. I was hoping you would tell me you knew, but after a few days went by and you still said nothing, I figured I had to take matters into my own hands. Even if that meant using a spell or two.”

You keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to laugh in your face and tell you it’s ridiculous to think that he would ever want a VK as a soulmate, but he doesn’t. In fact, you don’t think he ever will. As impossible as it seems, Ben wants someone who isn’t from a perfect fairy tale. He wants you. And that, lovely and wonderful and absolutely crazy, sounds like a fairly good happily ever after for you.

disney tag list: @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed

#ben florian #ben florian imagines #ben florian x reader #ben florian oneshot #descendants #descendants imagines #descendants x reader #descendants oneshot #disney #disney imagines #disney x reader #disney oneshot #descendants ben #descendants ben imagines #descendants ben x reader #descendants ben oneshot

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luvring · 7 months

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ASTROLOGY BOT

1.2k words, just timeskip akaashi overthinking and crushing on gn!reader. LOL

akaashi has always considered himself ‘on the fence’ when it comes to superstitions and signs from the universe.

he might say ghosts aren’t real, but never goes near a supposedly haunted site just in case. he’ll ignore videos titled “for you” if he can’t relate, say it must have been a sign only after something goes wrong, and never acts on them even if he knows he has to.

but he can’t deny that he thinks about it throughout the day when it’s something he hopes is true—that maybe he’s tried out a few filters and trends to see if you, his crush of way too long, were his soulmate.

it’s bokuto this time, though, that sends him a sign.

a tweet, really.

an astrology bot on twitter that tweeted 17 minutes ago— “sagittarius, tell them you like them. they like you, too.”

AKAASHI!!!

i told you!!!

i turned their post notifications on to see if they’d say anything funny again and LOOK!!!!

keiji watches his friend’s texts come in through as notifications, eyes mostly fixed on the tweet, re-reading it over and over.

it’s a minute before he texts back.

it’s just a bot bokuto

it doesn’t actually mean anything

but bokuto is typing replies in mere seconds,

awwwww come on :((

remember when they were like

be careful virgo they don’t have the best intentions >:(

and IT WAS ABOUT ME ALMOST GETTING SCAMMED!! THEY STOPPED A SCAM!!! O____O

whats the worst thing that could happen???

i mean.. well…at least the worst thing that could happen ISNT u losing a bunch of money T_____T

imagine if u lost hundreds of dollars bc u confessed ;——; scary…

keiji breathes out a laugh.

i won’t lose hundreds of dollars but it’d haunt me for the rest of my life like every other embarrassing thing that’s ever happened and u know that

but thank you

i’ll think about telling them

he’s vaguely aware of bokuto sending another text with his name in all caps before he turns off his phone. it lands somewhere beside him on his comforter, and he takes off his glasses if only to run his hands down his face.

there’s a feeling he gets, akin to both butterflies and a 10 meter drop, when one of these bots decides to let his imagination get away from him.

for a few minutes keiji lets himself think it might be true, and that you think about going on dates with him the same way he does with you.

the latest idea he had was taking you to a new board game cafe that had opened nearby. he had skipped then swiped back up to its ad—a perfect spot for couples looking to spice up a regular cafe date!

he hadn’t closed his curtains properly that night, and the moon lit up his room while he stared at the ceiling. would you be competitive? would you rather play a co-op game?

would you see him sipping on his drink, and ask to have a taste?

he thought about how he might accidentally have some foam above his lip, and how you’d softly laugh before tapping above your own to signal his appearance. he cringed at the possible humiliation of looking silly in front of you, but it went away with the foam you’d gently swipe with your thumb, or maybe even hold his face to kiss away instead. you’d tease him and say it was as sweet as him.

but it’s nonsensical.

as far as keiji knows, whoever runs the account is using a random generator to pick a sign and bullshitting every tweet in their drafts.

it’s almost always only a sentence anyway.

but does that mean it’s a sign that this one was two?

keiji forces himself to stop thinking and takes a deep breath, letting the warmth hit his palms still covering his face. silence washes over him, and he lets his ears focus on the traffic outside, and the sound of the washing machine running a couple of rooms away.

but then he thinks about you. and he scrunches his eyes shut and groans, hands moving to grip his hair before he rolls over onto his stomach.

there’s a thud as his phone hits the ground while he pulls the blanket to cover his head.

sagittarius, tell them you like them. they like you, too.

not just tell them you like them, as if it was a shove to be courageous for once, but they like you, too.

did you like him, too?

was he good enough for you to like him?

did you hate him?

was he going to trust an astrology bot as uninformed about your feelings as he was?

maybe more importantly, was he going to let a bot dictate whether he finally confesses to you after almost a year of pining? a year based on the fact that one day you held the elevator door open for him with a smile and already knew what floor he needed?

(you had noticed him as the new employee, though he didn’t notice you while busy getting used to his job. he made sure to note the fact you got off the floor above him so he could press the button for you next time.)

and keiji doesn’t really believe in signs or the supernatural. he doesn’t want to let himself, because if he does then there’s probably a ghost in that shut-down building on his way to work, he’s gotten himself twenty years of bad luck, and he’s big enough of a coward that the universe decided to take it upon itself to tell him that itself.

but he’s hiding under his blanket when the absurdity of it all hits him—the anxiety and what-ifs and pretending he didn’t know you liked going for lunch a little earlier than him, and that he didn’t plan his break to say hello—and he feels like he’s sixteen again.

and maybe if there’s one thing he doesn’t want to feel other than being rejected, he thinks it’s being sixteen again.

so he jolts up.

and somewhere, in the back of his mind, keiji wonders if the universe jolted up with him, excited to see where this goes.

adrenaline working, he reaches for his glasses and fumbles to put them on with one hand while the other feels the floor to find his phone. the bright screen makes him squint, and the notification of bokuto’s “AKAASHIII :((” welcomes him before anything else.

sagittarius, tell them you like them. they like you too.

the tweet seems to be engraving itself into his mind as his shaky fingers hold his phone, and he taps your icon.

he skims the last text you had sent,

thanks keiji!! i’ll see u tomorrow then :) and remember we get off early!

it's a little embarrassing how his chest tightens at you his name and a smiley face. but he goes to type one himself, spending a second to mentally tell the astrology account they’re changing lives, but nothing more or else he thinks he might throw up—

btw if you’re free, did you want to grab food after work? there’s a cafe i wanted to check out with you :)

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #akaashi x reader #akaashi fluff #haikyuu x gn!reader #hmm.... going 2 make a ramble post 4 this

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woonova · 10 months

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꩜ ﾟ˖ CRUSH

◟﹙ 💌 ﹚lee heeseung ﹕ oneshot ﹙ @woonova ﹚

ʚɞ ﾟ˖ written to lovers rock by tv girl

ʚɞ ﾟ˖ genre fluff, highschool au, classmates to lovers?, mutual pining?

ʚɞ ﾟ˖ synopsis on your arrival to a new school you catch the eye of lee heeseung, who carries an unfamiliar emotion in his big brown eyes whenever he looks at you

ʚɞ ﾟ˖ warning none i think, please let me know if you find any!!

ʚɞ ﾟ˖ wc 1.4k

rin's notes ! this was actually a scrap i found while clearing out my drafts and its also one of the first works i wrote!! so enjoy ^_-

— tumblr’s algorithm works best with reblogging so plz consider reblogging and liking my posts ! —

00 | HEESEUNG STARED AHEAD OF HIM, all mentions of algebra by his professor falling deaf to his ears. His gaze, deeply rooted on the girl who sat before him. This is how it had always been ever since you were introduced to the class months ago.

It had been a chilly monday morning when Heeseung arrived to his first session, already dreading getting out of bed a few hours prior. Absentmindedly, he strolled to his desk hoping to get atleast a few more hours as rest time. Thats when he noticed the still teenager in front of him.

Head between your arms, covered by a beanie decorated with star charms and other accents, it was grey and just a few shades darker than your uniform skirt. Hands comfortably covered by the sleeves of your oversized white shirt, fingers clutched tightly to its' cuffs in your comatose state. Feet covered in black sneakers with white stars drawn on the side.

Heeseung had quickly become intrigued with the sight of a newcomer. And now it was a regular occurrence for him to be tapped by the teacher, whispered to by one of his friends, or recieve slight kicks under the desks in an attempt to get him to regain focus.

It didnt work, or maybe it did. He was focused, just not on finding the answers to unnecessary question, but on you.

01 | "WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME?", a question that never seemed to stop crossing the tip of your tongue over the next few weeks. It was as if it was always supposed to be a thought and never meant to be uttered in fear of the response you may get in return. Fear? Why fear? When there was no reason to be afraid. In fact, you never really gave much thought towards the unmistakable glances being thrown your way on the daily, just passing it off on the fact that you were new. Everyone stares at the new kid right?

Well, that statement was partially correct. There was a short period in which you would receive looks from your classmates. Different days, different eyes filled with, confusion, interest, awkwardness, or just plain blank eyed stares. The last being the reason the aforementioned statement was only partially true.

Even after months of being apart of the school environment you still received these stares, except these eyes contained an emotion you weren't familiar with. Lee Heeseung, the culprit for your new found confusion regarding feelings the eyes could carry.

02 | STANDING IN FRONT OF THE LOCKER, Heeseung constantly rocked on his feet. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Like a loop of sorts. His eyes holding a similar movement, darting back and forth along the empty hallway. Clutching tightly to the envelope he held in hand he let out a quiet sigh contemplating if this was the right idea.

He wasnt sure how he ended up here. Standing in front of his crush's locker, whiteknuckling the slightly crumbled envelope, hoping you hadn't decided to leave gym class early. The only reminder being the faint memory of the short conversation he had with his older brother the previous night.

He heard the familiar sound of the school's bell, signifying there was only 10 more minutes left for the classes that were taking place, but nevermind that Heeseung thought, he had business to take care of — successfully planting the letter in your locker undetected and getting the hell out of there.

But as faith would have it, you successfully spoiled Heeseung's plan.

Being let out from gym early had been both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because now you had enough time to change and get your business done without being subjected to the suffocating mass of sweaty teenage girls aka the girls changing room. And a curse because everyone had seen you fall flat on your face earning yourself a bruised lip and a special escort to the nurses office to treat any other injuries.

It also had another advantage — if you could even call it that, spotting Lee Heeseung standing before your locker looking as happy as ever.

03 | HEESEUNG DID IT, today was the day. He had slipped his note into the locker with 5 minutes to spare. He had finally made a move and he was gonna be early to his next session. It was probably an overreaction but Heeseung felt as if he were on cloud nine, that was until he turned around and immediately felt his smile drop to a frown. At the thought of him being caught and the sight of the numerous bandages covering your skin.

There you were staring right up at him. Sharp eyes containing slight confusion, head titled slightly and fingers gripping the black bag strap that laid over your jacket covered shoulder. He wanted to ask if you were okay or hopefully get you to relay what had happend, but he kept quiet. Still a bit too shocked and embarrassed.

As he stood there, holding awkward eye contact, Heeseung wondered what he may have looked like to you in this very moment. Did you think he was a creep or a weirdo for messing with your locker? Would you now look at him differently? What would happen when you eventually saw the letter? Would you feel the same? Or would you reject him, leaving him a victim to heart ache? He felt like putting his long legs to use and getting the hell out of there, but he couldnt. Not when you were staring up at him with those pretty eyes he had longed to see.

There was no change in your expression as you slowly signalled for him to shift over so you could open your locker.

And even as you opened your locker — not missing the envelop that fell to the ground, you just continued with your business, not even batting an eye until you were finished and slowly bent down to pick it up. Running your fingers over it, feeling the material as it made contact with your fingertips you looked at heeseung unsure how to respond.

"You left this for me," you let out in the form of a small mumble, still surprised with the sudden attention you were receiving. Although, you tried not to show it.

"Uhh, yeah i was actually planning to you know, not be here when you found it," was the response you got, as you noticed the slight deflate of Heeseung's chest, as he let out a breath neither of you knew he was keeping in.

"Thank you," you returned in a breathy voice, suppressing a chuckle from how awkward this situation had become.

The bell had suddenly gone off again, signifying only a few more minutes till the hallway you stood in would be filled with impatient pupils, eagerly navigating the area to acquire a good seating for their next lesson.

"I think it's time we go now," Heeseung said catching your attention and subsequently stopping you from viewing the letter — which you unknowingly already managed to open, any further.

But unluckily for Heeseung you had read far enough, your eyes and mind stuck on a certain three word phrase, i like you.

"You..." you trailed off at the end realizing you didn't know what to say in response to these word.

Sure, you had developed a small liking towards the boy who stood before you. But to have said boy confessing his own feelings towards you in such a endearing manner had you lost for words.

"Look, it's okay if you dont feel the same, im sorr-"

"I like you too," you interrupted him, a new feeling of confidence surging through your veins.

You didnt receive a verbal response after this, though you did get a giddy smile from Heeseung, who was now decked in pink cheeks and wide bambi eyes that looked down at you with fondness. And you returned his smile in a similar flushed state, as you watched him slowly step away as the area got crowded, once again.

Call me he mouthed, his big grin fading into a small smirk. You gave him an unsure look but it was obvious he was already expecting this as he only pointed downwards — to the envelope you held in hand.

And surely enough, at the back of the crumpled envelope, hastily written in black ink was a number paired with a signature, Lee Heeseung's signature.

ʚɞ ﾟ˖ sponsors @hyfenet @k-labels @en-web

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dcbbw · 2 months

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WIP Wishlist 2024

Hello tumblrs , and Happy March 2020-4! I’m still waiting for the new year to actually feel like a new year instead of a continuum of the year before it. Can anyone else relate?

At the very beginning of the year, while battling a never-ending case of RSV, I saw posts here about people’s writing resolutions and goals for this year. Me? I have a wish list of stories I want to start, continue, and/or finish. I will still be writing original stories, but thinking this may be the year I settle down and write/publish my own Great American Novel. We’ll see.

Meanwhile, below is a glimpse of what immediately came to mind when I thought to put this together. Where applicable, snippets will be posted. As usual, everything is in states of rough drafts and flux, and final publication may vary from what you read here.

Newbies:

These are stories that are in the creation conception stage; ideas, thoughts, some words.

The False Queen

A long ago battle between the True Queen (Ravika/Riley) and her usurper (Magda/Madeleine) resumes during the Cordonian Social Season. Think Xena, Warrior Princess with some time travel thrown in.

Untitled

An unlikely pair (Justin/Anton x Kiara) finds love during the Engagement Tour. But with Anton having other plans in mind, the path to happily ever after is anything but smooth.

Wolves and Sheep

Combining my Riam, Anton, and Secrets of Cordonia AUs, this is the story of the trial of Anton Severus.

At the prosecutor’s table sits the Duchy’s High Counsel and Lord Rashad Domvallier. Folders and papers are stacked neatly on the table while the men converse quietly as they type on laptop keyboards.

The defense attorneys sit at a table across the aisle from them: a statuesque blonde woman wearing a gray pantsuit and an African man in a pinstriped three-piece navy suit. The woman is reviewing a document, her pen occasionally scribbling on the paper. The man is speaking in hushed tones into his cellphone.

Security is omnipresent: King’s Guards work and stand side-by-side with the local constabulary and guardians of the Court.

A side door swings open; two guards, followed by the defendant and two additional sentries enter. The guards part, allowing the public its first glimpse of Anton Severus in over five years. The quiet of the courtroom is broken by rustling and whispering as everyone strains forward. Members of the Cordonian Court are no exception.

A sneer of disdain twists the mouth of the Duchess of Lythikos, Anton’s ex-wife. Her fingertips unconsciously begin rubbing the area on her abdomen where his dagger tore her flesh.

The King leans forward intently, his dark-ebony eyes hard as obsidian. His expression is stoic, betraying nothing.

The Queen is sitting ramrod straight, her eyes wide. “Holy FUCK, he’s hot!” she murmured. “I could make that man a King.”

Without breaking his gaze on his nemesis, the King lightly slaps her thigh, causing his wife to frown at him. “I said what I said,” she hisses. “I did it for you, I can do it for him.”

“I was royal long before I met you, and King when I married you,” Liam reminds her in a slightly reproving tone, his eyes still fixed on Anton.

“There you go, twisting the narrative,” Riley huffs as she reaches for her husband’s hand. He readily allows her to hold it.

Affairiage

I thought I was making Leo Rys and Savannah Walker leads in my version of Same Time Next Year, but it appears I’m doing a fanfic of 28 Summers

Heartland

Back in the Year 500 BC, I came up with the idea of a late 1950s period piece featuring the TRR crew, and promptly never said another word about it:

Well, cauldrons are beginning to bubble, and plans are being made to rework plot and premise to turn this into an anthology series set in the American Midwest during an era where Dick Clark reigned, Jim Crow ruled, and innocence began to lose its bloom.

Sixteen Candles

Another story that popped into my brain and left just as quickly. But thoughts of Drake Walker as Jake Ryan and Liam as Long Duck Dong are back and this time, I don’t think they’re going anywhere.

Small Town Secrets

This was originally titled Life in a Southern Town aka The Political AU and was going to follow the political campaigns of five mayoral candidates: Riley Brooks, the incumbent; her ex-husband Liam Rys (they still live together in the same house and co-parent their two daughters), a former state senator; Madeleine, District A councilmember; Leo Rys, the dark horse candidate; and Drake Walker, Riley’s former (?) lover who calls her a demon and a plague on the town.

However, life events and imagination are collaborating, and I am repurposing the story to include political intrigue, hidden secrets, and humor in inappropriate places.

Debating if this will be a Great American Novel nominee, and whether to use OCs versus the usual cast of characters.

Little Nobles

A (somewhat) light-hearted look at the childhoods of my favorite noble gang, along with the friendships and rivalries between their parents.

In Progress:

Stories that are nagging me to write them/finish them

City Girl, Country Boy

Tis the season, and Liam finds himself alone on holiday in Manhattan where he runs across an old friend.

From the corner of my eye, I glimpse height and dark wool; hands stuffed in pockets. Perfectly combed dark hair and Asiatic features on a half-shadowed face. I mentally shake my head as I continue walking. It’s been over a decade since we last laid eyes on each other; there’s no way it’s him.

I’m disappointed that after all this time, I still search for his face in the crowd, that I still hope he will pursue me despite the different trajectories our lives have taken. My steps are quicker as I pass apartment buildings, skyscrapers, and storefronts gaily decorated in the theme of the season. Street vendors hawk bootleg wares

I’m nearing Canal Street subway when I hear running footsteps behind me. Automatically, I step to aside, so I don’t get barreled over but the steps slow as they near me.

“Excuse me, miss,” a familiar baritone says, and I stop walking.

It can’t be.

I haven’t heard that voice in 12 years, but I don’t need to look to know who it is. I turn anyway so my ears and eyes can be in agreement. I am hoping my expression is neutral despite my insides being a squirrel in traffic.

He hasn’t changed.

His hair is still black with that streak of gray on the side; his face still unlined. Or maybe the New York night softens his years. He wears a custom-tailored, black wool coat; his wingtips are so polished, I see the streetlamps reflected in them. His cologne is subtle and not the one I remember. He still exudes confidence despite the smidgen of uncertainty in his eyes.

Me on the other hand, I am now more TJ Maxx and Macy’s clearance rack than Louboutin. I don’t smell expensive; more like affordable. My trench coat is … vintage, and long overdue for a dry cleaning. My shoes are a dull matte black, scuffed from traversing streets and subways.

“It is you.” I hear his disbelieving whisper despite the throng of people impatiently jostling past us.

The Odd Couples

It’s throwback DC AU gang, all mixed up: Liam x Liv; Drake x Madeleine; Leo x Riley; Max x Penelope

The couple was in Baltimore for the weekend, attending a costume party thrown by Liv’s employer. There had been a buffet, open bar, and a prize for the best costume. Which Liam and Olivia did not win; Carlos Santiago, a member of the Environmental Services team, along with his wife and three children came costumed as birds and bees and won the prize.

Liam and Liv were The Ricardos: Olivia’s red hair was done up in Lucy’s signature poodle hairstyle, and her dress was a dead ringer for the world’s most famous housewife’s iconic frock. He had wanted to wear a tuxedo and carry a conga drum but settled for Ricky’s purple polka dot silk smoking jacket with shawl collar, black pants, and black velvet slippers.

“I can’t believe we didn’t win!” Liam muttered beneath his breath as he came behind Olivia, arms encircling her waist; his palms splayed against her flat, toned stomach. She responded by leaning against him, her back pressed against his chest.

“Don’t hate!” she admonished. “With those Korean features and Boston accent, no way were you a convincing Cuban band leader. Besides, you have to admit the birds and the bees is a pretty creative idea.”

“Not more creative than my SOCK GAME! I mean, Liv … you gotta admit, it’s damn good tonight!”

He was wearing black, knee-length socks with red hearts inscribed with “I Love Lucy” scattered all over.

Olivia rolled her eyes in exasperation at the mention of his sock game.

This man and his socks! He thought his sock game could cure cancer and bring about world peace.

“You’re sock game is great as it always is, darling. But it was a costume contest,” Olivia placated in a soothing tone as his fingers began removing bobby pins from her hair.

She spun around, facing her boyfriend. Her hair fell in soft curls that framed her face. Her green eyes twinkled as she pressed a quick kiss against his lips.

“You big, spoiled baby,” she teased. “Wanna smoke? I brought a couple of blunts along.”

Quickly, he shook his head. “No way am I going to be in BALTIMORE off some loud.”

Alienation of Affection

An installment of my Gritty City AU loosely based on true events where sneaky links and self-loathing collide. Reader discretion will be advised.

Caught

Inspired by a keysmash-filled convo with @ao719, a twist on the night of the Engagement Ball

This is her first admission of guilt and/or wrongdoing our entire time together.

She has no choice.

I attempt a deep inhale, but my chest is too tight.

The wedding is in one week. Tonight was our engagement gala.

“Yes, Liam yes!!! A THOUSAND TIMES, yes!”

I caught her … them … in the act. The woman I love madly, truly, deeply and the man I trust more than anything in the world.

I manage to choke out a single question. “Why?”

Her shoulders slump as her head falls forward, causing her hair to cover her profile. “It hasn’t been going on long; it started on the Engagement Tour. I told him in Vegas that what we had would have to end.”

I watched her leave the stag party arm-in-arm with Drake Walker. My best friend, with whom Riley wanted to have a fling. She swore it was a one-time affair; she was too much in love with me, but she wished to satisfy her curiosity.

I attempted to leave first, but I was not only one of the honorees, I was also King.

Per traditional protocol, the King is the last to leave.

So I remained behind, drinking copious amounts of American liquor, making small talk in a loud voice so as to be heard over noisy music, and dancing with women I had previously rejected.

All while Riley spent the night with another man.

“But it hasn’t,” I interrupt harshly.

Based on Tumblr Events:

Untitled Song Rewrite

Based on Jill Scott’s Epiphany

Sisters Someone

A two-part story that brings together Sloane Washington and Kiara Theron for their respective appreciation weeks (hosted by @lizzybeth1986)

Untarnished Silver

For King Liam Appreciation Week (KLAW), a look at 25 years of the rule and reign of Cordonia’s favorite King

The Grand Ballroom in the Palace’s West Wing had been completely transformed into an elegant banquet hall:

Buffet tables filled with steaming trays of foods catered from two of Cordonia’s newest and most critically acclaimed restaurants: The Little Lamb, and its sister eatery The Commoner’s Crown, were conveniently placed next to open bars throughout the humongous room.

Tables were covered with white linen cloths and topped with floral centerpieces of irises, Peruvian lilies, and magnolias in silver vases. The flowers represented congratulations and longevity, sentiments that had been expressed repeatedly to the King and his family during the tour.

Balloon bouquets colored silver and cream floated near the ornate ceiling, as well as being tied to chairbacks. Dining tables strategically ringed the room, affording the 1,500 attendees a full view of the stage and podium. Life-sized photographs hung from brocaded walls, capturing moments of the King’s life:

Accepting the Crown Princeship one week to the day his brother Leo abdicated.

Coronation night, wearing the King’s crown, royal robes, and holding the family scepter.

Feeding ducks at Lake Fabian with his mother.

He and Riley’s engagement portrait.

Their wedding day, mouths opened in laughter with their faces covered in cake and frosting.

In a dressing gown, his back to the camera and face in profile as he held one of his sons in his arms.

Atop a horse with a frown of concentration on his face, playing in a charity polo match, the camera catching his mallet mid-swing.

Speaking with Chancellor Merkel at a summit, a half-smile on his face as they looked down at a document, his index finger pointing to something on the paper.

He and Riley dancing at their 20th wedding anniversary party, her face nuzzled against his neck while his lips hovered above her ear.

A funny family portrait, complete with exaggerated poses and expressions.

The Couple Next Door

A reworking of the 2005 action comedy hit, Mr. & Mrs. Smith

Final Cut

Based on the first three chapters of a Round Robin hosted by @choicesprompts

Bertrand Beaumont turned off the microphone before shuffling, then paper-clipping his index cards. He glanced up briefly to see the group filing out of the hotel’s ballroom; a curious expression crossed his face when he saw a few laggers approach others, striking up conversations.

What have I gotten myself into?

Starting a public relations firm had seemed a great idea a year ago. With the Duke’s diverse background in fashion, finance, and political legalities, coupled with his penchant for decorum and obsession with appearances, it had seemed a no-brainer.

Savannah was his operations manager, responsible for events logistics and administrative support. Justin Severus was his right-hand person; he had done a marvelous job restoring the Queen’s reputation after the unfortunate incident at Applewood.

He stepped from behind the podium and briskly made his way off the dais, looking down at his watch as he strode through the room. Looking back up, he saw Justin leaning against a wall, waiting for him at the elevator bank. The closer Bertrand approached his deputy, a wide smile spread across Justin’s face.

“You were great!” he greeted the Duke. “You kept the rowdies in line and gave them just enough to pique their curiosity.”

Bertrand pushed the call button. “This group is not what I was expecting. South American overlords. Hollywood has-beens and wanna-bes. AMERICANS! We’re going to need to double-check the mentor list again.”

Bertrand had postponed the mentor/mentee matchup because it was not yet finalized.

“It’s a hella group, for certain. The subject of an international child custody case, a lawsuit-riddled doctor, disgraced C-suite executive, Leo, Trystan, Olivia, a scandal-ladened starlet, America’s Sweethearts, Princess Marguerite, and Duke Dick.”

Bertrand gave Justin a withering glance. “DO NOT engage in intercourse with the Princess!” he warned.

“Too late,” Justin smirked.

Bertrand shook his head before commenting again. “The Selection Committee must have been drunk when they approved their choices. Have the other members of Court arrived?”

The elevator arrived and the gentlemen boarded. Justin’s index finger punched their floor number as he shook his head.

“Not yet. A storm is coming in, waves are choppy. They should be here by 4, and that will be the last ferry into and out of the Isle until Monday morning.”

Bertrand mulled over the information. “At least we don’t have to worry about anyone sneaking off.”

Finish Them:

So these are stories that are soooo close to completion, but I am on the fence with two of them; the others, not sure why they are still sitting around gathering dust.

House of Cards

Based on the international phenomenon Squid Games, this is the backstory of “The Salesman”. On the fence about this story, and more so about posting this one in the fandom.

On this, the night of Day 2, the remaining participants were playing yet another “game”: Pillow Fight.

Innocent sounding enough.

Except everyone knew there would be a deadly twist, and all wanted to be alive in the morning. After realizing that this was a game to the death; overcoming the initial shock of a robotic doll the size of a fully grown tree whose eyes were infra-red cameras, and learning elimination meant certain demise … partners had already become opposition.

Player 081 inadvertently set the match to the fuse. No one knew if it was intentional. No one cared.

The middle-aged man, who was less than 48 hours into a dry drunk, muttered “fuck” under his breath as he stood on his top tier bunk in an attempt to press his palm against the glass pig’s underbelly.

No one was sure why.

Was he trying to steal the bank’s treasure? Or turn off the irritating light?

It no longer mattered.

The money wasn’t his and now, it never would be.

As pillowcases filled with objects such as rocks, sturdy tree branches, and in some …mere feathers randomly swung wildly, the white cotton slowly seeped red. Hollers and screams filled the room and echoed off walls and ceilings as beds collapsed from metal bars being snatched by the frenzied mob or being tipped over in the melee.

On the other side of the bunker, a thin, petite woman who looked no older than a teenager sniffled, the tears she cried streaking a bruised cheek covered with the dried blood of a corpse. A young man lay on his side behind her on the narrow mattress, his cracked voice in her ear.

“It’s gonna be okay, Soo-Ah; just four more games and then we can leave,” he assured her in a ragged whisper.

The woman hitched her breath. “My pillowcase has FEATHERS, Sang-yul! If they pull me into the fray, I’ll be leaving here a lot sooner than four days!” Her body shook with silent sobs.

The 23-year-old street urchin said nothing. Instead, he swallowed heavily and tried not to puke at the smell of blood, both old and fresh, assailing his nostrils. His arms tightened around Soo-Ah, his only friend in this hellhole.

The pig’s lighting flickered faster and more erratically as the fighting grew more frenzied. Sickening thuds, bellows of pain, and the sounds of shoe soles squeaking against the blood and brain splattered linoleum flooring were as loud as bombs.

Sang-yul chanced a glance over his shoulder, his body tensing at the sight of someone headed in their direction, their face pale and ghoulish in the broken light. A metal pipe was carried in one hand, a bloodied cloth sack in the other.

Coal black eyes darted everywhere looking for a victim.

Less players meant more money.

Sins of the Father

A Gritty City AU installment. Reader discretion will be advised.

He met Madeleine at her car door, his lips crashing uninvited against hers in a kiss filled with desperation and disbelief. When the kiss ended as abruptly as it began, Madeleine adjusted her tortoise-shell glasses while her green eyes searched Liam’s face almost warily.

“What the hell was that?”

“Someone killed Poppa Joe tonight!”

Madeleine quelled a shiver that raised goosebumps on her exposed skin before reaching back inside the car for her purse. “Thank GOD,” she breathed as opened the rear driver-side door to release Hans and Gunther, who bounded out of the car and sat before Liam so he could rub their heads and murmur sweet gibberish to them.

The restauranteur was yet another of Poppa Joe’s victims; when she was 15, the priest had gotten her pregnant. The scandal was handled quietly by the parish and her parents; the latter believed the father of the baby was an upperclassman named Tariq.

The young blonde left school for one month due to “illness”. It wasn’t a complete fabrication.

Madeleine’s abortion was a back-alley botch job which left her with a raging infection and too much blood loss. She survived but had to have an emergency hysterectomy.

She no longer cared. When she and Liam were getting serious and discussing marriage and family, he was relieved they would be unable to have children.

Tariq, the son of poor Moroccan immigrants, was transferred to an exclusive private school in the city’s North End, all expenses paid via a scholarship provided by St. Joan’s Academies.

“How did the rest of the party go?” she asked quietly as they began walking towards the house, holding hands; her blonde hair bounced against her shoulders.

Liam nodded slightly. “Good. We got Sloan Enterprise and slew of new donors.” His side-eyed his wife. “Where did you go with the dogs? It was supposed to be a walk.”

Madeleine turned her head vaguely, meeting her husband’s gaze.

“Ice cream,” she replied in a soft voice.

Her husband nodded thoughtfully. The term was code between them; when situations became too overwhelming, too triggering, they said they needed “ice cream.”

“I hope you brought me some back.” Liam squeezed Madeleine’s hand more tightly.

“You don’t like chocolate.”

The Queen’s Friendship

Riley was chatting with Maxwell in the Delegates Dining Room at the UN, waiting for the gala to begin. Liam was at the head of the room, arm in arm with Madeleine. His eyes spotted Riley and he winked. Riley rolled hers and turned her back to him.

“Blossom, don’t act like this! You know he’s trying,” Maxwell begged.

“WE’RE trying! He’s kissing his fiancée,” Riley retorted. Her eyes scanned the room. “Oh, look … there’s Drake,” she stated before walking away from Maxwell.

Riley had no idea if it was Drake or not, she just wanted away. From Liam, Madeleine, Maxwell … Cordonia. Riley figured now was the time to make the break. She was back home in New York City. She still had her apartment, for the next month at least. She passed by elegantly dressed tables and came upon an hors d'oeuvres station; she paused to pile a tiny plate with even tinier bits of food when she heard her name.

“Riley Brooks?”

She turned, a disinterested expression on her face until she saw who it was. Riley hurriedly set her plate on the edge of the buffet table before wrapping her arms around Veronica.

“OH MY GOD, Ronnie! What are you doing here?” Riley shrieked.

Veronica hugged her old friend tightly. “It’s so good to see you!” The women separated. “You look great, girl! I’m one of the event planners, why are you here?”

Riley shrugged. “I’m with the band.”

Veronica shook her head in disbelief. “How did you end up with royalty?”

“I answered an ad to be a waitress.”

DC AU Series, Chapter 6

The chirping of birds and a full bladder woke Riley up. She arched her neck, eyes still closed; they opened quickly when she felt arms around her waist and Liam’s soft snores behind her. Last night ran through her brain: their fight, their kiss, their confessions. Riley inhaled and let out a shaky breath; were they really going to do this?

Yes.

Was she ready for it?

No.

Her hands curled around Liam’s wrists, trying to pull them apart. He resisted at first, but let his arms fall away from her body. Riley missed their warmth immediately.

“Where are you going?” Liam mumbled.

“Bathroom and to take my meds.”

“Your pill and a bottle of water are on your nightstand.”

Riley looked and saw the pink pill sitting on a tissue, next to an unopened bottle of water. When did he do that?

“Thank you. But unless you put a toilet on the nightstand as well, I gotta get up.”

Liam shifted, allowing Riley to move and sit up. He watched her adjust her night shirt; his eye was caught by a mole on the back of her neck. His finger reached out, touching it experimentally. Riley giggled as she shrugged away from his touch.

“It’s like a potato bug,” Liam said as he tried to touch the mole again.

“Oh, dear God! Don’t you have to go to work or something?”

Liam lay on his back, hands behind his head. “Not going in today. You need me here.”

Riley frowned at him as she walked past the foot of the bed. “I’m fine, Liam. It’s just Drake.”

“Drake with apologies and explanations and closure. Different Drake than what you’re used to. I’ll feel better if I’m here.”

Riley shook her head as she stepped into the bathroom.

“This is what having a man who wants to claim you is like, Riley B.!” he called out.

“We’re not there yet!” she hollered back.

“Practice makes perfect!”

Oldies but Goodies:

New chapters/updates of old stories:

Timing

Object of Affection

Betrayal (Riam)

The Commonerr’s Wife

The Commoner (not that old, but I too want a thrid chapter)

One Night Stand

UnRomance

Streets of New York

Platinum (truly needs to be filed under Finish Them)

Best Friend (Depeche Mode Diary entry, needs to be a Finish Them)

Liara

And these are my #goals for 2024 writing-wise. I hope something caught your eye, piqued your interest. For all those still hanging with me and exercising the utmost patience while I let life kick my ass, I LOVE YOU! Something’s coming soon-ish, just not sure what.

Hope you’re here for it.

Tagging: @jared2612 @marietrinmimi @indiacater @kingliam2019 @bebepac @liamxs-world @mom2000aggie @liamrhysstalker2020 @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet @busywoman @beezm @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam @gardeningourmet @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles @emkay512 @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @alj4890 @lovingchoices14 @lady-calypso @choicesficwriterscreations

#dcbbw writes #all the wips #trr/trh au fanfiction #writer on tumblr

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schraubd · 11 months

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Getting Out in Front on Antisemitism

A few weeks ago, when the New York City Council was debating a resolution combating antisemitism, we had a bit of awkwardness when various lefty groups (and a few lefty councilmembers) expressed concern about aligning themselves with the undeniably right-wing actors who were the primary movers behind the underlying campaign. Six councilmembers ultimately declined to vote for the resolution, resulting in some absolutely expected negative headlines and bad press as the right seized the opportunity that fell into their laps.

In response to that own-goal, I wrote the following:

Look: Brooke Goldstein is an undeniably toxic actor. I totally get why a progressive wouldn't want to touch anything she's within ten feet of. But here's the thing: you don't *have* to wait for her to draft an anti-antisemitism resolution. You can draft your own!

NYC progressives have nobody to blame but themselves that they let Goldstein get out in front of them. If you don't want to vote for "her" res, write and submit your own first. Who knows, maybe [Republican city councilwoman Inna] Vernikov will pale at associating with you and you can turn the screws on her a bit!

But if you aren't writing these resolutions and you aren't frontloading the fight against antisemitism, you can't get too chippy that other people fill in the gap you've left. It's a problem entirely of your own making.

As the day of the Biden administration's big antisemitism action plan rollout comes to a close, doesn't it feel nice to be on the right side of that lesson?

The Biden administration didn't wait on antisemitism. It didn't hold back, it didn't stay quiet and do nothing until some Matt Gaetz style yahoo created a "plan to fight antisemitism" that they had to reject while awkwardly insisting that of course they oppose antisemitism but they just can't oppose it this way.

The Biden administration wrote their own plan, on their own initiative, in their own words. And what was the result?

An array of Jewish organizations from the left to the center-right echoed those sentiments in welcoming the plan with enthusiasm, marking a change from recent weeks in which they had been split over how the plan should define antisemitism. Still, a handful of right-wing groups blasted the strategy, saying that its chosen definition of antisemitism diluted the term.

The Jewish left seems happy. I've seen naught but praise from groups like the JDCA, J Street, JFREJ, and so on. The Jewish center seems happy. The ADL and AJC clearly are taking this as a win. The Conference is happy. Groups like JIMENA are thrilled that the document expressly acknowledges and represents Sephardic and Mizrahi Jews. A rapid consensus has already emerged across a broad swath of the American Jewish community that this document is an example of true allyship from the White House.

And the right? Well now it's their turn to feel uncomfortable. They're still trying to stomp their feet about Nexus getting 15 words of modest praise. They're awkwardly trying to figure out how handle MAGA darling Rep. Lauren Boebert (R-CO) calling the proposed campaign against antisemitism a means of "go[ing] after conservatives" and comparing it to Soviet repression. They're on their heels, reeling from the fact that the biggest national program to fight antisemitism is being conducted and they're struggling to even board the train.

Right now, the fight against antisemitism is a coalition of left and center, with the right bickering on the sidelines. It's not just a win for the Jews (though it is), it's a great political coup as well. And it's all because the Biden administration took the very simple step of getting out in front.

Learn that lesson, and learn it well.

via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/FnJLdI4

#anti-semitism #Biden administration #Jews

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lumincryo · 1 year

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Midnight Contemplation

✧ Tags: gn reader, yandere, slight cursing, mentions of captivity, pretty light overall, better at the end tbh

✧ Word count: 620

✧ A/N: This was originally just a draft, but I felt that I had to get something posted as I've been on such a long hiatus. Excuse the shortness.

Scaramouche views emotions as a weakness.

Following his abandonment by the Shogun and his relations with those he met prior to his involvement with the Fatui, he learned that feeling is trivial. In essence, it is pain, and he never wishes to undergo anything of the sort again. Mortals are weak, and he does not want to be perceived as such. After all, he is not a human, but practically a god.

The young man’s darling is included as one who should view him as a deity. You are expected to submit to him- To worship and exalt him, and to treat him with even more honor than others who will eventually devote themselves to him.

Although when he is with you, he is nothing close to reaching his facade of desired divinity.

Despite your ruthless habit of snapping back at his words, pushing and shoving and doing all sorts of things to just get the damn man away from you, he can’t find it within himself to give you what he would normally consider to be a proper punishment.

It’s almost as if his time in the Fatui never occurred. His cruel persona is relentless in its dissipation when he is in your presence.

Although he does not wish to punish you, he must do something. This is why he retreats to more subtle discipline that is still just as effective. True suffering is psychological, not physical. He knows this better than anyone.

Thus, he plays you through his mind games, yanking and twisting on all the imaginary strings attached to your intellect until you give in to him, just like you should have long ago. But when did he, the puppet, turn into the puppeteer?

The truth is, he never did change. You’ve been the one controlling him this whole time, he concludes one night while softly running his fingers along the arm of your sleeping form. You’re the one he looks to when he has nobody else- the only one that makes him put more consideration into the way he dresses, the way he talks, acts, all of it. The one that makes him want to look good, so you’ll love him just as much as he loves you.

If it weren’t for you being this new variable in his life, what would he be?

It’s a disturbing thought for him, really. You have too much control over him, and he can’t have that. Though, at the same time, is it so terrible to have someone like you? Not at all, as there is a reason why he took you into his hold in the first place.

Deep in thought, his fingers suddenly halt and your body slightly stirs from the pause in motion. He takes a moment to observe your face- It is drastically different from the expressions normally presented to him. Instead of a deep scowl, you look oddly tranquil. Moonlight glazes over you, highlighting every distinct feature your body beholds.

You're beautiful.

Just as his motions cease, so do his thoughts. His rambling is over for the night, he thinks. He should join the same peaceful state as you.

And so, the man snuggles lower into your back and closes his eyes. Though he can not sleep, he can at least calm himself, and you’re all that he needs to be able to do so. You may not love him, but he has you, and that's all that matters as of now.

He is a lost man at sea. The murky waters of Inazuma push and pull at his boat. Just before he is tipped over, you, his anchor, keeps him in place. All he needs is for that anchor to root itself forever.

#yandere scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #yandere kunikuzuhi #yandere imagines #genshin impact x reader #yanderecore #yandere fatui #fatui harbingers #lumincryo

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austarus · 2 years

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Harrison Wells (Eobard Thawne) x Reader - Chain of Events

*A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me. It belongs to its rightful owner.

**Please don’t forget to comment, like, and reblog. It means a lot to content creators of all kinds!

***I’d also like to thank @grimtamlain-writes for being my beta reader.

****Here’s a little fic to cheer us up in light of what’s unfolding in season 8. I’m still just watching the Eo clips so I’m just going to stick to my writing and nothing else because I simply do not know what to do with the current plot (?). I’m still on hiatus due to school, but this and a few completed drafts were just sitting around. I have one more chapter to finish for the Wells-Thawne family (that I’ve been procrastinating) but that section of four chapters will be released once i finish the forth chapter before getting started on the next chapter installment for the series.

Word Count: 2835

MASTERLIST

“Well, don’t you look nice in red,” you whispered into the empty room, materializing from the shadows in a fit of darkness. You couldn’t help but eye the Scarlet Speedster in the Cortex. Eobard’s breath hitched as he abruptly twisted his head to the sound of your voice. His tensed shoulders relaxed. You sent him a little wave with wiggling fingers. You were perched on top of a side table, one leg over the other and that cheshire-like grin plastered on your face. Both your hands were pressed on the table, propping yourself up as you had no support for your back. “All noble and dignified in that suit. A true hero,” you continued to tease him. "Isn't that right, Flash?"

It was Eobard’s turn to smirk, his heart warming in his chest significantly at the sight of you. He ran a hand through his slightly mused hair as the speedster approached you. You uncrossed your legs while the ‘hero’ loomed over you. “You shouldn’t be here,” the genius murmured teasingly, already wrapping his arms around you gingerly and slotting himself between your legs. You snuggled into his arms, pressing your face into his chest and breathing him in. You shut your eyes as you savored this moment with him. “The others will get ideas, Shadow Weaver.” Eobard’s grip tightened around you, placing sweet kisses on top of your head. He could get drunk off your company alone; the idea that you came this far with him, for him, out of love had the speedster thoroughly smitten. It’s not like Eobard would ever grow tired of you or the adoration he saw behind the fire in your eyes. One day, I’ll take you far away and we can live the life we’ve dreamed off, my little bird.

Even though you saw Eobard two days ago, the situation had been different, drastically different. This whole plan still gnawed at you; he had killed Barry Allen as a child in this temporary reality all the while taking up Barry’s place as The Flash… and as Iris West’s fiancé. All of this in order to siphon off speed from the Speed Force until the time point is corrected and when Barry would show up, he would be unmistakably heartbroken with dread. You knew it was a charade and you understood Eobard’s intentions as well as having faith in him. But seeing her by his side always felt like a sharp knife to your gut, twisting and twisting, even though Eobard had made it blatantly clear that he would never touch Iris the way he touches you. He would never choose her because he had you. You were always his endgame.

“Let them,” you muttered, shifting back to meet his eyes dead on. You laid your hands against his firm chest. “We won’t be in this reality for much longer anyway.” We’re almost done here. I can hold out for a little longer.

Eobard’s eyes ran over you, a glint of worry in them as his tongue clicked at your bandaged arms. He couldn’t help himself, his fingers moved to hold them in his gloveless hands. Instinctively, your body flinched away slightly from his touch. Eobard furrowed his brows as something dark stirred in his soul. His eyes caught sight of the bandages peaking the collar of your shirt and his jaw set. With one hand, the speedster brushed your cheek with his knuckles. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, although I think you handled me a bit too roughly over in our last staged fight. I just have a mild headache and some pain here and there.”

“I’m sorry.” The speedster took your head and leaned down, gently kissing your injured limbs. Eobard noticed how your body tensed up under his touch. His thumb gently rubbed the edge of the wrapping. “I hadn’t calculated Iris breaching to the fight. I should have cut the comms before heading to the warehouse.” To his chagrin, Iris came to your ‘fight’ with the genius speedster and shot at you multiple times regardless of his warnings for her to stay back. Eobard couldn’t care less about her safety, but Iris was one of the keys to Reverse Flashpoint. You tried to not hurt the journalist with your powers, if only to get her to stop shooting at you to flee with your Shadow Step. The speedster let out a sigh before resting his forehead on your uninjured shoulder as another apology fell from his lips. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

“Hey, look at me,” you cupped the villain’s face in your hands, confidence bolstered your words. “I’m ok, I am more than capable of protecting myself even if you’re around. Was the situation less than tasteful? Yes, but I’m still in one piece. I’m still here and we’re seeing this through to the end so we can get back to you beating the living hell out of Barry and me watching from the sidelines with some popcorn.”

You planted a sweet kiss to his lips, one he returned sensually. “Just a few more days and we’ll be in a permanent timeline,” Eobard mused as he dipped his head a little, his mind already re-evaluated every course of action with Team Flash. They wouldn’t turn on him, not with how easily he has them ensnared in his script for the final act. “Barry showed up at the little ceremony.”

“I know, I was watching from the upstairs balcony.”

“Nothing slips past you, does it?”

“Not when you’re involved, my love,” you giggled as Eobard nuzzled into your neck, placing a few chaste kisses on your skin. You hugged him closer as electricity from the computers in the Cortex continued to hum. “I’ll be keeping Barry preoccupied the next few days. Put on a little show, have him second guess everything and teeter towards the edge.” I wonder what he’ll see the more he uses the Negative Speed Force.

“Such a clever little bird,” Eobard remarked smugly, kissing your lips “Everything’s going just as planned, naturally. We took it all from him. All I need is for whatever speed is left of the Speed Force to sync with my body before converting to Negative Speed Force particles.” We’ll be evenly matched once more in a few days.

You couldn’t help but avert your gaze from your fiancé. Your mouth moved, articulating your thoughts. “...I’m still not happy about Iris being around you nearly 24/7.”

“I’m not exactly enthused about it either,” Eobard agreed, shaking his head to himself as your gaze locked back with his. There was always such sincerity in his eyes when he spoke to you. “Or the fact that you’ll be by Barry’s side when he chooses to attack. I want his world to shatter all around him just as he had done to me. Things aren’t what they seem in this… reversal of events, to him, but it’s everything that I’ve strung together with the pieces at my disposal. I want him to break before he realizes that Damian’s the key to changing the timeline permanently. Our game of chess is not over.”

You let out a little sigh, dancing your fingers over his shoulders before loosely locking your arms around his neck. Eobard kept his hands on your sides. “Just… promise me when we get back we’ll take some time away from here,” you commented, knowing that he can sense the exhaustion you were feeling from living in Reverse Flashpoint for so long with him in order for things to go his way.

“I was thinking about that earlier when I was sitting at the last meeting with the others. I know you’ve been wanting to tour the Maldives.”

“You remember that?” You simply cocked an eyebrow at his oddly specific suggestion.

“Yes, of course I remember,” the speedster responded softly.

“It’s just I talked about that when we were…” You trailed off, biting your lip and dropping your gaze. That was so long ago.

Your murder speedster husband cupped your face, bringing your eyes to meet his icy blue ones. Eobard knew exactly what you were thinking. “What?”

“I remember when the two of us were planning things out seven years ago. You’d take me back and… we’d have that small wedding and have our honeymoon traveling to multiple islands. We’d explore everything, it would just be us and the open sea.” The genius scientist remained silent as he heard the slight ache in your voice. Seven years had passed and the two of you hadn’t been any closer to doing the things the two of you had discussed. You continued, “I know to a speedster seven years isn’t much, but it seemed like a lifetime for me. I just really miss you…”

“I know.” I couldn’t be there with you for a majority of time. Trying to outrun being erased or being executed. We could have had it all if Allen had just saved his mother and allowed us to go to my time. All that time, wasted. Time… And for that, I swear on my life that I’ll make up for every second that passed us. “Come on,” Eobard reeled himself back before tugging one of your hands for you to jump off the table. Your body protested at the sudden movement, an ache running through your nervous system.

“Where are we going?”

“Out, we’re going to get some of your favorite sushi and snacks and stay up all night by the fire until the sun comes up.”

“Wait, what about your whole plan with Team Flash? And Iris?”

“That can all go to hell.”

“But Barry-”

“With Allen sulking around I have no more use for Team Flash and Iris at the moment,” the Wells doppelganger explained, his hand giving your hand a gentle squeeze as he looked down at you with a certain glint in his eyes. You saw the bits of longing and adoration behind those eyes as he looked at you solemnly. “I just want to spend some time with you before we run from this time point.”

***

“One hundred and thirty pieces of sushi at your service,” Eobard announced, striding into your bedroom with three large-sized party platters of various sushi stacked on top of one another. The speedster also bought you some gyoza, crab rangoons, and takoyaki. You couldn’t help the little gasp you made and the giddy smile on your face. You set your phone to the side and pressed out the spare, old towel from it’s creases. You were sitting cross-legged on your plush bed with multiple napkins positioned by the glass plates. Eobard could literally see sparkles in your eyes and he had to stop himself from chuckling at how cute you looked right now.

What can I say? I’m a simple girl, food makes me happy. Along with books and other things that I indulge greatly in. I am not ashamed to be honest. “You really know how to spoil a girl,” you felt your mouth watering as you opened up one container. You chopsticks were at the ready while your speedster genius got his plate and chopsticks. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for centuries.”

Did she just use my line?

The dark-haired man could only cock an ironic eyebrow at you as you started digging in .The two of you ate in comfortable silence, you were on your phone while Eobard was flipping through for either Criminal Minds or the Discovery Channel. Setting his plate down on his lap, Eobard glanced at you due to the different audios that he heard. “Are you on that stupid clock app again?”

“What? It’s entertaining, plus it helps pass the time.”

“As in ‘pass the time when you’re not around’. Right?”

You rolled your eyes at his accusation while trying to mock your voice. “I’m neither confirming nor denying that statement.”

“You don’t have to, that wicked smile of yours says it all,” the genius nudged you with his shoulder to which you nudged back. You couldn’t help but drop the serious demeanor you adorned to grin cheerily at Eobard. The speedster helped clean up, putting the sushi in smaller containers to fit in the fridge while you tidied up the room. A thought crossed your mind as Eobard re-entered the room and shut the door. You were already under the cool covers, freshened up for bed in your pajamas as your index finger played with your pillow case. In a torrent of gold lightning, Eobard was all done and making his way out of the bathroom to climb into bed with you. The speedster had his arms around your waist, hugging you close as he nudged his head to rest on your chest. You carded your fingers through his silky hair and took in little breaths through your nose. The dark-haired genius shut his eyes as he listened intently to your heart beat. Cuddling like this always calmed his chaotically racing mind. He's running his hands over your back, sending a shiver down your spine. Eobard planted a kiss on your collarbone, causing you to giggle quietly before clearing your throat. The whispered words at the back of your mind tugged at your heartstrings.

“Eo?”

“Hm?”

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

The genius speedster pull away to look at you with curious eyes, he can sense the small flickering flame of worry in you. “When we go back to this new ‘corrected’ timeline, I don’t want Barry to separate us again.”

“They won’t,” the speedster murmured, the pads of Eo’s finger’s rubbed little circles on your back, “I’ll be damned if they take you away from me.”

You couldn’t help but respond with a small nod, but there was that nagging feeling at the pit of your stomach. Something unsettled you as the engagement ring on your necklace felt heavier. Your eyes drifted to see that Eobard was wearing his engagement ring on a necklace around his neck too. Not the faux one he had given to Iris, no. Eobard had hand crafted your ring and his years ago, something you secretly wore under your tops and shirts through the years. “You sure this will work?”

“It will. It has to. I’ve... run out of fast options that doesn’t include a speed drug. Barry’s becoming more and more like his future self, but I can still see the same boy from seven years ago. Confused and hurt. His connection to his Speed Force has gotten stronger, I’m merely using that to my advantage in this temporary time point.”

“.... What if something goes wrong? Then what?”

“I’ll adapt, I always do.” I have to, I have to fulfill my destiny and I cannot do that without you.

“I don’t want you to die again, Eo,” you whispered, almost in a pleading tone, running your fingers through his dark hair.

“I won’t, they’d have to take my speed and you away to seal my fate. To take my life.” Eo shifted himself as you pressed your lips into a thin line. He cupped your face gingerly. “What? What’s that look for?”

“I’m thinking.”

“What’s that beautiful mind thinking of?”

Your thoughts were falling right out of your mouth, allowing for your insides to churn with the notions your mind was conjuring. “I’m wondering how would your body react if your speed was taken away. What kind of toll it would have if Barry somehow found a way to sever you from the Negative Speed Force permanently. Barry was weak six years ago when he gave his speed to Zolomon, but you... yours is different than his.

Eo sucked in a little breath, his mind reluctantly contemplating such an outcome. It was something he thought of from time to time, should Barry advance enough to commit to that path. Swallowing thickly, the villain responded, “I wouldn’t be able to move much. It would take my much much longer to heal compared to Barry. It... would be hard to breathe. My mind would still be intellectually fast due to being a natural genius, but...” I would be a hallow shell of a man. He trailed off, not wanting to finish or tempt the thought that that outcome would be what his life could resort to. Speedless and alone.

“You’re not allowed to die,” you gave him a hard kiss, emphasizing your words and cupping his face to look at you. “You hear me? You’re not allowed to leave me like last time. You’re not allowed to lose yourself, to lose your speed.”

“You’re not allowed to die either,” Eobard couldn’t help but smirk at the blossoming determination on your face, a cute little and unyielding frown. “You’re not allowed to leave my side. You’re not allowed to give up on us.”

Deep down something inside you still stirred, but with the way that Eobard looked at you. The adoration in his simple touches, it had you feeling a bit reassured. “I love you.”

“And I love you, my little songbird.”

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lovelywooz · 1 year

Text

Boo Seungkwan - Night Walk

This is kind of a short open letter to him if I’m honest? I see so much of myself in Seungkwan. He’s a wonderful soul. One of my favorite people to have been born on this Earth. I’ve had something in my drafts about him for a while, but I wanted to wait to post it. Here it is now<3

Word Count: 743

Warnings: None, could be a little bit angsty? It’s short which I know takes some people out of the zone.

As you’ve gotten to know him, you and Seungkwan both see so much of yourselves in the other. You started going on nighttime walks about a month ago to let go of your deeply set stress together.

*******************************************************

Everything about Seungkwan is so tranquil. The way he holds your hand gently, but with a loving firmness. The way your pairs of feet make a tiny splash with each watery step on the park sidewalk. The way raindrops pitter-patter so effortlessly perfect you could be fooled into thinking its a studio recording.

You’ve each got one earbud in. The wired kind since Boo says that it’s ‘more intimate’ that way. Your left ear and his right ear both tune into the audiobook you’ve chosen for the night: Alice in Wonderland. It’s actually quite a long book and each chapter is about 45 minutes of blissfully calm narration. Both of you enjoy a little light ASMR here and there. You figured it’s good to start with the classics, since Boo said he’d never read most of them before and frankly it’s been a long time since you had either.

This little habit of yours, walking at night hand-in-hand while listening to an audiobook, has become an essential part of your relationship with Seungkwan. Though it’s only been a few months since you started dating, you’re not sure you ever truly lived without him.

He can see you’re stressed. You can see he’s stressed. And so the earbuds and umbrella come out and you’re out the door. This routine works to serve both of you. Sincerely you hope that you can bring him even half as much comfort as he gives you just being in his presence. His aura is like that of a blanket thats been warmed next to a roaring hearth. Even in the nighttime rain, you can still feel his burning heart through your connected palms. He’s the guy you wished- no, prayed was out there waiting for you.

Suddenly, he comes to a stop next to a large tree. He always looks around in peaceful silence, but he’s never outright stopped during one of your walks before. He speaks in a calm tone, still audible enough to be heard over both the rain and the narrator’s voice in your ear. “I used to walk here by myself a lot when I had thoughts to sort out”, he releases your hand and reaches his fingers out to trace them over the bark, “It makes me so happy that you like coming here too”.

“Any place with you next to me makes me happy” you chirp. A smile blooms across his features as he turns his head to look at you.

“I’m sorry that,” he hesitates, “that I don’t tell you enough. That I can never seem to show you or put into words how I’m feeling”. Knowing that you’re going to deny his words right away, he puts a finger to your lips. “Don’t go saying that it’s not true, because I know it is”. Despite what it seems like, Seungkwan doesn’t sound sad at all. His tone indicates more of a reflective mood than anything else, like he’s somehow collected all his thoughts and is ready to lay them out one-by-one. This is a rarity for him.

He continues, “Part of why I feel so drawn to you is that we are so similar. In some ways I love that we can instantly figure each other out, we know what the other needs without saying anything. It also makes me feel so bad for you at times, because I know how complicated you feel when you’re hurt. It’s hard when we choke up each time we’re asked how we’re doing. Because we honestly don’t know”.

His index finger reaches up from your lips to brush a strand of hair from your face. “When I look in your eyes, I see all the fondness I once begged for, the assurance that I need, a reflection of what I have always wished and hoped would come to me. It amazes me all the time that there is someone who just- gets it. That understands me. As if we’re bound by some cosmic force that I can’t see. Or cut from the same cloth”. He laces your fingers together once again. “I just have to say it, while I’m feeling brave, and I have you here in front of my eyes, I have to tell you what I’ve been feeling”.

The audiobook chapter ends, just in time for you to hear him clearly between the patter of the rain on your umbrella.

“I love you”.

#boo seungkwan #seungkwan #seungkwan fluff #seungkwan angst #seungkwan imagine #seungkwan drabble #seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #booseoksoon #seventeen drabbles

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vvatchword · 8 months

Text

I nearly forgot to post my monthly for August. August has been just... oh jesus. something else. Here. Take this ugly first draft thing. I don't like it very much right now, but it exists, and that's more than I could say before.

Technically, I've been in crunch for the last three months. This has not stopped me from writing. There's a post going around right now by a... I don't know who they are? A public speaker?... who shares a little story about Van Gogh, with the moral of the story being "Art is in spite of suffering and not because of it." And although I think that can absolutely be true--that you don't need to suffer to produce good art--it certainly ain't true of me. I need to be in pain. I need to be angry. At the very least, I need to be confused. And in each of these states, I need to be curious about why that is. Suffering is very often meaningless, but it's also nice to build a framework for comprehending it.

If you can't have a plot without fictional suffering...

August is too many words again, although this time at least 20,000 words came from only two days. Early in the month, I had a deep desire for Good Endings, and wrote a few for myself. Very doubtful any of them will make it into public, but they were very good for me, thanks.

The real reason I haven't been able to finish this story, despite its absurd size, is that I was fixed firmly on Johnny Topside and only Johnny Topside. Every now and then I'd get a brain bug and work on Dr. Lamb--but even then, that was somewhat grudgingly. I'm now at the point that any kind of work on Topside relies almost entirely on what happens to Dr. Lamb and how she influences her followers.

And so, with a great grumble, I finally started working solely on Dr. Lamb and Lackeys sections.

Stanley Poole is absurdly fun to write--if I can get this done, you'll see why. I ended up stumbling into a facet of him that was weirdly personal. Unfortunately, I wrote as far as I could on his storyline; I now require the other three generals, because ideally all five of these characters rub off on one another and help illustrate and build up Lamb herself. I've got Grace down, I've got Gilbert... the only real problem now is Wales, the Biggest Nothing Ever. There is no reason for him to be Nothing except that I know nothing about architects, architecture of the period, or the place Wales came from. The only things I understand about him are Objectivism, Puritanical Belief Systems, Art, Perfectionism, the Sting of Failure, Depression, On the Outside Looking In Because U Just Got Punted into an Alley for Being Shit, and the Lure of the Metaphysical. You will note these are very imprecise and say little, really. I need to know about his childhood. I need to know about where and when he grew up. I need some colours out of earth.

One thing I'm very curious about is how this writing hyperfocus--which, if I can get to November, will have lasted an ENTIRE FUCKING YEAR, fucking unhinged and completely unlike anything I've ever experienced before--will affect Future Me. A winter is coming for me, whether I like it or not, and I'll definitely need it, but... I wonder if I can carry any of this knowledge and capability into future projects.

So much of this was fueled by passion. It's arguable it was nothing but passion. It's me taking my lumps and then translating them into prose as fast as life gives them to me. But I'm also impressed by the pieces of the work that I just worked on because they needed to be there and for no other reason. I'm impressed by the work I did out of duty years ago that still holds up, and the work I did on the bus while someone was screaming slurs. Art that exists is always better than the art that seems perfect in your head--at least it's out now, at least it's saying something, even if that something is imperfect. You can't fix what doesn't exist.

I'm also impressed by how I now know instantly what kinds of sections are necessary and in what orders, up to how many chapters are necessary to express the points that need to be impressed, with the only question marks being how to illustrate those points best. The next step will be to see if I have gotten too rote and see if I can't break out of those habits--maybe look up some alternate styles and writers and try to copy them. Just for challenge's sake, you know. I often find favorite phrases and methods and overuse them.

You might be asking at this point: "Wait! What about the BioShock Infinite stuff?" And I reply: this is about August and I only started writing BSI stuff in September. And also, I realized (very grudgingly) that I need to read a LOT more books before I can really start work, then play/watch BSI again. Napciyunka shared some headcanons with me and I played with them and then I realized he was like Oh Jesus don't take all my headcanons and I was like OH yeah that would be awkward and rude wouldn't it

...wait a stinking minute. Look at my story statistics. There is no reading time. I broke it rofllll

#vvatchword #bioshock #bioshock 2 #fanfiction #writing #uprising #only man #sofia lamb

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alexinity · 2 years

Text

someone specific

albedo x gn reader

tw: none

-this is kinda short and boring but it was in my drafts for a few months so i decided to get rid of it finally, albedo might be a little off character idk

[albedo confesses his feelings, talks abt the future and his fears, a little comfort?]

•

you and albedo were sitting on the grass near dragonspine, where the cold couldnt reach, yet the sun couldnt touch.

you were laying on the grass in deep silence, not an uncomfortable one but still in the nice company of your friend.

"have you ever thought about the future?" albedo randomly asked

"of course i have.. why do you ask?" you turned your head towards him and looked at his back

"i was just wondering..do you think if we already have a destined future, that a single moment can completely change it?" he was staring into the distance.

"hm..perhaps..the future is something that changes all the time and even a single decision can lead it towards a very different way. our fates change everyday with every little thing we say and do. this is how i imagine it... kind of like the butterfly effect, dont you think?" you said with a small smile.

albedo felt his cheeks turn slightly red. he loved the way they answered his questions, maybe thats why he always seemed to try to find something new to ask you

"maybe you are right..." he said while turning the other way again

"you seem bothered? is something wrong? you never really care about things that arent happening in the moment, let alone something so distant like the future." y/n got closer to albedo and gently placed their hand on his shoulder.

"true but.. recently ive been trying to get something out of my mind, no matter what i do nothing seems to be working out"

"well its new to see you worried about anything at all, you can tell me.." a few seconds passes before albedo sighed and lowered his head a little

"how do i say this...well.. i was just wondering if what im doing, my dedication, all my researches, all my creations...if they will eventually lose their meanings when in the end of the day i will still be alone like ive always been, i will lose control and.." he didn't dare look at them.

"albedo..." albedo had told them a long time ago what his life purpose was, they knew what he was capable of

"leave it..i shouldn't think about it now" he felt embarrassed. he didnt understand emotions as much as he wanted to, he knew that in order to not feel lonely he had to be around people and that seemed like the hardest part

the only person he always wanted to be around was you

he knew you were a busy person, always going around helping others, caring about everyone, you had your own worries and problems, he knew the fact that you were there with him right now was too much to ask for. why would you care about someone like him anyway? he wanted to be selfsh for once, take you away from all of your responsibilities for a day and spend moments like this more often

"do you often feel lonely?" y/n took albedo back to reality with their question

"sometimes"

"then why do you always stay here - alone. If you really didnt want to be alone you would be doing all your researches in Mond.. in your lab."

"you are right..i dont seek the company of other people, i tend to avoid everyone as much as i could, in dragonspine i feel.. save...i am perfectly fine by myself here, but i do seek the company of someone specific sometimes, its distracting me from my job, makes me feel vulnerable.." He turned his gaze towards you. he felt his breath hitch as he was staring at your confused expression. should he really be doing this?

"and who that might be?" oh how u loved to act dumb he thought

archons you were doing to kill him. why do you always have to do this? you never seemed to notice how much effect you have on the alchemist

his hands trembled

"you"

perhaps one day..when he loses control, when he cant hold back and think straight..perhaps you will be there to stop him and bring his mind to peace again

#albedo confessing #albedo x reader #genshin impact imagines #albedo kreideprinz #i kin albedo ok #this is so off character i suck at writing #genshin x reader #genshin impact #albedo imagines

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kyofsonder · 2 years

Text

Find the Word

I was tagged by @on-noon to find a specific set of words in my WIPs, and tag others to keep the game going. Thank you for the tag, the more times I play this game the more fun I have and the more I enjoy the perspective it gives me on my own writing.

My Words: grow, worse, wind, snow, and wake.

I’ll tag @aohendo, @junypr-camus, @starlightscribe, @did-i-do-this-write, and @marinesocks this time. It's also an open tag for anyone else who wants to join, as always!

Your Words: voice, equal, second, purpose, and greed.

I found grow(s) in an original short story WIP, titled “Kiyo”:

Kiyo herself is pretty small, also like me, but her leaves are strong. They're bright red and her vines are a soft orange, so it's less that she grows like a regular plant and more that she spreads like a flame. She's a little wizened, with some crunchy edges of brown on some of her older leaves and a lot of black in her veins, but her roots keep pushing their way down through the soil. Reaching for water or more soil or whatever it is they find for her. The guy selling all those half-neglected plants hadn't acted like there was anything special about this one in particular, but I haven't heard of plants that look like Kiyo... pretty much anywhere.

I found worse in my novel WIP “To Be Honest”, although it does show up in a scene where there’s (magic-related) self-injury and mentions of blood:

The feeling from earlier is practically screaming at him now, rattling his bones until he thinks the vibration might knock him out. The way David had greeted him. The way his voice has been changing. The fact that Micah hasn't been able to see his face this whole time. The repeated circles when he'd tried to walk. Something is wrong. Micah can feel the magic in his own blood, warning him that if he takes too long to figure this out he'll end up trapped here. Not just here in the woods, but somewhere much worse. He can't control his breathing anymore and every spell he knows is gone from his mind. Alright. Fine. Screw patience, then. The witch takes as deep and steady of a breath as he can manage, wincing each time it catches on the way down to his lungs. Without sparing a second more to think, he brings the knife down on his arm at whatever angle fate decides. If he's lucky, it won't catch any major arteries and he'll be able to bandage himself up later.

I found wind in a draft of a Given oneshot fic “Present Tense”:

He steps toward the water, bracing himself against the wind. It isn't cold, somehow, but he still feels like he should be wearing a jacket of some kind. The sound of the ocean makes it feel like Winter, steady and calm. Rolling like the sand, only stronger. Moving steadily. Making itself known. White noise, washing away the feelings of early afternoon sunlight that had been so vivid just a few moments ago. He finds himself sinking into a crouch, closing his eyes again and holding his knees close to himself. He buries his face into his arms. Ah. He wants to sink into this sound. Let it wash him away, too. Out toward the sunset. The gradually darkening blue and fading light pink of nightfall. The warped yellow and orange of a sun saying its goodbyes for the night. He wants to fall into these soft colors like a fluffy bed and rest.

I found snow in a Sk8 the Infinity fic “True or False”, although it shows up in a scene where Langa is experiencing a type of unreality that might affect some readers:

It's quiet for a while, then Langa adjusts himself so he can speak -- still holding as tight as possible, "Sometimes... I have dreams. They aren't like normal dreams. When I wake up, I can't tell if they were real or not. If I was remembering things that really happened, or dreaming things that never did. It feels like I'm awake and just thinking about real memories, but it also feels like I'm asleep and dreaming. That doesn't make sense, but... the dreams don't make sense. They get... it happened for the first time after I got lost on a mountain as a kid. I was out in the snow all night. I kept thinking that I remembered the way back -- then I'd realize that it was the wrong way. The path I remembered was from a dream. No matter where I walked, it didn't get me home. It got... really confusing. Ever since then, I'll get that way again sometimes. Confused from dreams like that, I mean."

I found wake in my novel WIP “Apricots” when the main character is talking about how long it’s been since his girlfriend died:

Noah doesn't let him get away that easily, "The beginning is the day Jess died, whatever day or month or year it was when that happened. I think you know that much."

"Kade's lost track of time since then, too. More than usual. It feels like he started talking to her ghost months before she died, every time he was at her bedside, like he'd already known it was coming. I guess... when her condition... that's probably why you got mad at me. You knew she would die so much earlier than I did. I still don't think you should have blamed me for not knowing. I did the best I could to take care of her. It's been two months and I still wake up thinking I'll take the bus to her place to... I think I'm still not convinced that she's even gone at all."

Thank you again for the tag – there was a little more original content mixed in with the fanfiction this time! I'm learning to balance how much I write between original and fandom projects, which is encouraging to see when I play this game.

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dragon-swords-prophecies · 2 years

Note

I read your tags on my post twice, and I literally have to ask about Jerry. Tell me literally anything and everything you want to, that is Such a fun a concept

There is so much about Jerry. So much.

he is technically a human. technically. he's currently a talking sword! he also is *checks notes* 397! He died/got stuck inside the sword when he was in his late thirties/early forties and then he's been in the sword for about 360 years!

how did he get in the sword?

this requires a little bit of backstory explanation. basically two of the four MCs of my main wip (Frost & Fire) are half dragon, half elf, and their parents were, once upon a time, adventurers! so was Jerry! do you see where I am going hopefully? they were adventurers together!

during one of their later quests they needed to kill/defeat a (theoretically evil) dragon. dragon lairs have weird weird magic.

sometimes weird magic will mess with souls and stuff.

sometimes when you perish while fighting a dragon in a dragon's lair your soul gets, uh, a little lost.

(further below cut because uh. length!)

well, a lot lost. part of jerry, the part thats actually his personality and his memories and stuff, got stuck in his sword (the name of the sword was Dragonslayer. This means that sometimes Jerry gets called dragonslayer)!

Through a series of events that I'm still not sure of the sword, with him inside, is lost. for several centuries.

Then! someone finds it! in a weird crypt underground that is definitely not where they put him last but whatever maybe he got lost (he did. he got very lost! this man does not have a sense of direction whatsoever!)!

the someone who found it?

Anastrannia Galendel, the youngest (at the time she was ~120, currently in the story she is 267) daughter of the people Jerry used to adventure with!

she did not know Jerry knew her parents. Jerry did not know she was the daughter of his old friends. it took like 4 months for that to be figured out.

now Ana has a talking sword who makes rude/annoying/absurd and occasionally helpful commentary! On Everything. he does not know how to shut up. should not have given the sword the ability to telepathically communicate with whoever is carrying him and/or speak aloud like a normal person. i really should not have done that.

but also its fun so whatever! its fun!

Some of his more funny commentaries from the first draft:

You and I are awfully small compared to this dragon. Could fit both of us in its mouth. At the same time. And swallow. No need to chew. It's enormous.

You know, this reminds me of the one fight with the cat. Where you almost died? Fun times.

Fire. Bad. Avoid fire- oh yes. Please throw me to the ground once more, I very much enjoy laying on dirt.

Oh. That hurt. Mind if you stop bashing my face into scales?

And his intro scene from draft 2 (current one):

“When did you get here?!?!” I shrugged. “About five minutes ago. Nice sword.” “Thank you!” said a new voice. It was my turn to whirl around, searching for a source. There wasn’t anyone else in the clearing, or in the edge of the trees. I resorted to holding onto a branch and leaning over the edge of the cliff to see if someone was hiding on the wall, despite not knowing how that could possibly be true. “Over here.” I spun towards the voice, and found myself looking at Anastrannia’s sword, which she had now fully unsheathed and laid on the ground. It took a few seconds to sort out. “Is your sword… talking?” “I have a name!” “Shut up, Jerry. Yes, Enna. He’s talking.” “Well that’s new.” “Its not, actually. Several hundred years old.”

#dragonslayer aka jerry #wip: frost & fire #asks #bookish galaxy #thank you for the ask!#somewhere on my blog is a post that is the most fabulous collection of crowdfunded (ish) ideas for what commentary a talking #sword would make but i cannot for the life of me find it

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nogatestowatch · 1 year

Text

A Friend in Need

rough draft

Chapter Summary: Liliana learns the truth behind her demon pact while the Gatewatch await her arrival. Gideon finds Liliana on Dominaria and makes a personal oath.

chapter one: caveat emptor (buyer beware)

I can’t leave. The realization struck Liliana with mounting horror. A spectral hand around her throat, squeezing tight. Her spark—a piece of her essence, her soul, that allowed her to traverse the Blind Eternities—was just out of her reach. It was still inside of her, still a part of her—it burned inside her with a cold, violet light since she first sparked all those decades, centuries, ago—but no matter how she tried to take hold of it, she couldn’t ‘walk.

—Had she not meant to leave after Gideon?

Instead, she witnessed Chandra and Jaya step away from Dominaria in a crackle of red flames. Teferi vanished within a blue temporal storm. By the time a hollow bell toll signaled Karn’s departure, Liliana had half convinced herself that she lingered on purpose for another, indiscernible reason. A pique of nostalgic whimsy, one she rarely allowed herself to feel.

She looked on at the deserted courtyard with an indulgent eye—willing whatever emotion might be making her linger to pass, so she could move on with her plan to reunite with the others waiting for her on Ravnica. The longer she dallied, the longer Nicol Bolas lived and breathed; a thought that brought her no pleasure.

And did she not live to do as she pleased?

She would be pleased to rid herself of this slab of stone, scarred by centuries of Belzenlok and his cabal’s ill-use. To leave Dominaria, not as a heretical healer, daughter of General Vess, but as Liliana the Necromancer, slayer of demons.

Her spark laid inert within her, unresponsive to her call. What in the hells is the matter now?

«Oh, Liliana...» Nicol Bolas’ words echoed in her mind mere moments before a maelstrom of wind, dust, and debris heralded his arrival. “Did you breach the terms of your pact?”

He towered over her, his considerable draconic frame caging her in its shadow. Nicol Bolas’ amusement was evident in voice alone—he had a flair for the dramatic, a true showman.

There were times he reminded Liliana of a giant, scaled feline watching his prey with detached curiosity. Batting and circling a trembling mouse to see how it might attempt to escape his clutches.

“You should have paid attention to what you were signing, Liliana.” He seemed to savor her name on his tongue—and the way she tensed and flinched at his every syllable. “The damages to be paid are quite… devilish.”

It was a trap. One she had walked right into.

<hr>

Gideon felt the others watch as he paced a well-trodden path along part of the alleyway they had landed on. Given enough time, he’d wear them down to smoothness.

“Maybe she stopped on the way for a bite to eat?” Chandra’s nervous laugh does little to disguise her unsurety—or to ease Gideon’s growing concern. “Liliana does love to make an entrance.”

“Liliana has not arrived in Ravnica.” Karn studied the sky, his senses focused on something indiscernible by sight. The last vestiges of a red-orange sunset carried no trace of the necromancer’s spark—or the recent activity of any planeswalker beyond the five of them. “No one’s come here after us.”

Teferi and Jaya shared a look, before stepping aside to speak to one another quietly. They had left their task on Dominaria incomplete—ragged ends still loose, a number of potential enemies laying in wait for whoever remained. Gideon saw them with their heads close together, speaking too softly to be overheard. No, enough.

“I should go back. It’s taking too long.” Gideon wasn’t one to sit on his thumbs and wait for things to resolve on their own. More-so than kind, he was meddlesome—no need to wait for an invitation. He was fine inviting himself along to have a job seen-through, and he would not rest until he was certain she was safe.

“You’ll be wasting your time. She isn’t coming.”

Chandra had claimed that Liliana loved to make an entrance—which was true enough. But there was not an illusion mage across the planes who wasn’t also skilled in setting a stage. Jace stepped under the alley’s amber light, half-shrouded in shadow. “With her last demon down, she has no need for you. For any of you.”

There wasn’t animosity in his voice so much as silent resignation—as if he, deep down, had always believed these turn of events were inevitable.

Gideon frowned—it took no effort to recall the night before they all came together to defeat the Cabal and Belzenlok. The languid expression on her face a few glasses into a pre celebratory drink with the crew, the delighted smirk she hid against the rim of her glass. “I think I’m actually looking forward to it. Going after Bolas next—”

“She wasn’t lying. Whatever she was like before, I know how she is now.”

Jace sighed, rubbing his jaw. “Look, I don’t enjoy saying this. I wanted to be wrong about her this time, I really did—”

“I don’t care about your history with her, Jace. I saw a lot of her on Dominaria—” Gideon crossed his arms over his chest, looking as though he wasn’t above defending his stance with more than words.

Jace bristled at his words, and interrupted him between grit teeth, “She’s a great liar, Gideon. Call yourself lucky she didn’t stab you in the back on the way out.”

“I agree with Gids, Jace,” Chandra blurted out. She waved her hands, palms facing outward. Her face grew red, voice breathless and desperate as she barreled on. Jace looked bemused at her interruption. “I mean, I wasn’t with them the whole time or anything—kinda got there by the end, actually, now that I think about it, wow I missed out on a lot didn’t I? Haha, no. But really, Jace, it was… different. She was excited to fight Bolas.” She flit her eyes towards Jaya, begging for help. Jaya sighed, before patting Teferi on the shoulder and coming closer.

“I don’t claim to know her better than any of you here, but she really pulled her weight out there. And she risked her life saved my friend’s—she didn’t have to do that. Besides, the way she talked about Bolas...”

Teferi, summoned by the jerk of Jaya’s head, continued with, “I can tell that Liliana must be a difficult friend to have at times, but even I could tell she was making progress towards—”

The creek of door hinges a few feet away interrupted Teferi’s undoubtedly profound speech. The illusion of Jace that had met them outside vanished as the door opened and (a) Jace popped his head out the door. “Search for her if you want, but we have people waiting inside. Let’s get this meeting started.”

Gideon didn’t need to be told twice. A golden light enveloped him and he stepped back into the Blind Eternities. Back to Dominaria. Back to…

<hr>

Stars had just started to shine when Gideon arrived, though dusk was just then settling onto the Ravnican sky that he left behind. He saw Liliana’s raven hair first, a black stroke of ink that was darker than the night sky. The rest of her was illuminated only by a sliver of moonlight—the line of her jaw here, the curve of a shoulder there.

The tight hold that gripped his lungs loosened, and he breathed in the faint smell of ash and soot in the thin mountain air. She was safe.

Liliana perched on the stone base of what was once must have been a grand statue of the demon Belzenlok. She was only half-sitting, with her face turned towards the heavens. Gideon settled on the granite beside her, pretending not to notice the way her cheeks glistened beneath the silvery sky. He waited with her in quiet contemplation, noting the depth and frequency of her breaths in the quiet dark.

She was safe. The battle to come, though surely imminent, had yet to arrive. The Gatewatch—and the rest of Ravnica—could wait.

[not too sure abt the direct this is going; the following text is subject to change]

“Something happened.” It wasn’t a question—Gideon knew the answer already, and he didn’t care to see her attempts at a lie. Not now. There wasn’t that much time.

To his surprise, she eventually nodded in answer, though her lips twisted in what looked like a grimace.

“But you… won’t tell us.” His eyes bore into her, though she avoided his gaze in favor of the sky above. “Whatever it might be, you won’t say what it is.” Her violet eyes met his golden ones. She shook her head.

Gideon exhaled roughly. This was… bad. He couldn’t—shouldn’t—make a decision here, not on his own. Strategy was… not a strong suit of his. Now battle tactics? That was easy. He knew his way around a battlefield intimately and it would be foolish to doubt his judgment there. But here?

Jace was their strategist. Their big picture thinker.

He doesn’t trust her.

Gideon didn’t exactly begrudge that, though he didn’t agree with it. Jace might be able to read someone’s mind, but Gideon knew something deeper than that. The core of who a person was. The little tells that no liar, no matter how adept, could hide from him.

Liliana was a liar—not just to everyone around her, but also herself. He’d seen in Dominaria how she weaved them for herself, a web of deceit to cloak herself in, with enough truth interwoven that it would be hard to dissuade herself of them. But he’d taken her measure, seen what she revealed to him without meaning to: what haunted her past, and the defensive twists of her mind.

Jace would say not to trust her—but Gideon wouldn’t be himself if he sat quietly and listened obediently to instructions handed down from on high.

He took a deep breath, a sureness settling at the base of his spine.

“Do you still want to defeat Nicol Bolas?” Liliana’s eyes widened before blinking rapidly. She didn’t answer, but then he didn’t need one: his faith in her had not been shaken. “Can you join us on Ravnica?”

“Beefcake, we both know that’s a terrible idea. I shouldn’t be there.”

Damn it. She was right, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Helplessness clawed at his belly. He hated that feeling of powerlessness. The hand of fate spread cast a wide net. Gideon would have to do his best to outrun it.

“Liliana, whatever this is—we can work through it together. You don’t have to struggle with it alone.” (She breaks eye contact, stares at her hands on her lap. The raised scars of her pact mock her in their presence.)

“If you change your— Join us if you can. There will always be a space for you at our table.” (If he has any right to speak and he damn better |:<)

(She does meet his eyes just before they leave; she has more to say that she isn’t saying, frustrated at what words do come out) “Hey, Gideon? Try not to die. You’re more fragile than you think.”

______________________________________________

I'm like seriously not sure about that second scene. It might change completely lmao. very rough first draft.

#afin wip.

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