#『 pay no attention to that man behind the curtain 』 . . . out of character.

[dreadgloom]

blog related updates.

So I will be making some changes to this blog and am going to slowly work on things! Here is a list so you can know what to expect:

I have bought the Out of the Abyss module and will be reviewing it to incorporate it into Dio’s backstory. Also my husband wants me to run it and I have never been a DM before so I’m freaking out.

Going to craft some headcanons about drow lore and Dio’s time in Menzo as I learn more from my research.

I’m going to roll for Dio’s stats and build them an actual character sheet because I like that better than the point system B.G3 used.

I will be making official verses for Critical Role, Elder Scrolls (specifically Skyrim), BG1 & BG2, Modern (both magical and non-magical), and possibly One Piece, JJK, and Solo Leveling.

Gonna update the carrd and try to stylize it a little.

[decepti-geek]

I’m sure people have lots of fun with the doomed by the narrative thing but whenever I see it I turn into the project runway guy

“doomed by the narrative” shut up it’s the fucking creator making creative decisions

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

my girl 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your brother's friend from work starts hanging out a lot more often. (short!reader)

Characters: Captain Syverson

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

The curtains stir in the summer breeze, the smell of pollen wafting in and tickling your nose. You scrunch your face, resisting as sneeze and flip the page of the book, your eyes racing across the letters, devouring them. After another year of academia, you’re all too eager to spend your summer devouring your ‘to read’ list. 

The flick of pages marks the passage of time. You don’t sense how the sky sifts from a beaming yellow to a gentle blue. Not until the knock comes at the door and draws you from the world built of prose. You blink and lift your head, mark your page and leave it on your pillow. You push yourself across the low bed and yawn. Only as you don’t have words to read do you feel the fatigue in your eyes. 

“Peanut,” your mother calls you by the childhood nickname you can’t seem to shake, “gonna help with dinner?” 

You open the door to her and step out, “yeah, should do something.” 

“You should,” she chides playfully. “I already got the roast beef in, just need you to do sides.” 

“Great,” you shuffle down the hall behind her and rub your eyes. You don’t know if it’s allergies or reading that has you so dried out. 

Downstairs, you go into the kitchen and the aroma of the roast has your mouth watering already. In your delve into the land of fantasy, you may have forgotten to feed yourself. It’s not an uncommon occurrence; during the school year, you often studied until your head pounded and your stomach roared. The human body tends only to get in the way of the mind. 

You work at peeling potatoes as your mom takes out a medley of vegetables to put in a roasting pan. She seasons as you chop, the low murmur of her outdated music filling the hazy summer air. You can hear the children next door running around and the bristle of trees swaying in the wind. 

“Oh, make sure to throw in a few extra, pea,” she says as you go to curl over the top of the bag, “your brother’s bringing his friend.” 

“Friend? Johnny?” You wonder. 

“That man from his work, Syverson,” she corrects, “with the beard.” 

“Uh yeah, I remember.” 

You’ve met Syverson, or Sy as he prefers. Your brother, Isaac, started his apprenticeship last summer with the man down at the metal shop. There are vague instances in your mind when you recall the large bearded man sitting at the table across from you. He’s older than your brother, you too. Probably closer to your parent’s age. He doesn’t say much either but he’s polite. You think. 

You shrug and pull out some more potatoes to add to peel and cut. You do so quietly, your mind wandering back to your book even as the real world threatens to wipe it away. You’re so swept up in the fraught quest to reclaim a forgotten world that you can hardly focus on the blade. 

You blink as the knife hits the board, too close to your thumb. Pay attention. Often your mom comments that you look far away and just as often you are. Existing in this world can be so boring. Potatoes and roast beef. 

You rinse off the spuds and put them on to boil. You’ll mash them like you always do and add your mother’s ‘secret’ ingredient; herb and cheese sour cream. You’re pretty sure every mother on the block claims that as their little revolution. 

As the water starts to steam, you hear a car pull up and a louder engine behind it. Your mom checks the beef, letting out a gust of savoury air. You are starving. 

As you toss the peels in the bin, the front door opens. Isaac’s voice carries through the house as he chatters on about sparks and some work thing. Your mom’s head pops up as she waits eager for his appearance. 

He peeks into the kitchen as a pair of footsteps follow behind him. You mom greets him with a kiss, “hello, bubby, how was your day?” 

“Mom,” he scowls and wipes his cheek, “it was fine. Burnt myself pretty good.” 

He shows a bandage on his forearm and shrugs. Your mother gasp, “oh, honey!” 

“Told him to put his gauntlets on,” Syverson stands just beyond the doorway, his shadow looming like an evil orc in a cavern, waiting to pounce. You shake off the comparison as he comes into the light of the kitchen, a case of beer in hand. “Brought something for dinner,” he puts down the six-pack and shifts as you notice the red cap and label poking out from under his arm. He catches the bottle before it can slip and presents it to your mother, “and for the ladies.” 

“Oh, Syverson, you’re always so sweet.” 

“Mm, least I can do, y’all having me, feeding me,” he reaches to rub his neck. “Mind if I use the bathroom? Gotta wash my hands.” 

“Course, dear, you know where it is,” she preens. 

He leans on his back foot and his eyes glint in your direction. Despite his gruff exterior, his shaved head and thick beard, and his work-stained tee shirt, his eyes seem to sparkle, “evening,” he nods in your direction, as if he’s only just noticed you. 

“Hi,” you murmur and turn back to wash the starch from the cutting board. 

Having company is always awkward. You’re the only member of your family who isn’t very social. You have your classmates and a few friends you’ll hang out with on occasion but your parents and your brother always seem to have someone with them. If it isn’t one of your mom’s HOA accomplices, it’s one of your dad’s neighbourhood buddies arguing over the barbecue. 

You continue to tidy up as you wait for the food to be ready. You take out some plates and cutlery, wanting to distract yourself by setting the table. You stack the plates and the utensil slides around on top as you carry them into the hallway. You have to stop short as you nearly collide with Sy.  

“Sorry,” he apologises and backs up, “need help?” 

He points to your armful and you smile and shake your head, “all good.” 

“Don’t mind,” he says as he puts his large hands around the stack of plates. They’re pretty thick and heavy on their own but he takes them from you easily. 

“Um, right, then I’ll get... cups.” 

You turn back and flit into the kitchen. Your mom hums as she strains the potatoes. She doesn’t notice you counting glasses from the cupboard and balancing them all in your arms. You go down the hall, this time without obstacle, and into the dining room. You angle awkwardly to put down all the glasses at once.  

Sy lays out the plates and cutlery one at a time, certain to have each perfectly centered and straight. He focuses on the task intently. The sight of his earnest effort contrasted by his burly figure is almost silly. You plunk down the glasses at the corner of each plate, staying on the other side of the table from him. 

“Your back from school,” he says as he finishes, stepping back to cross his arms, making himself even larger. Most people are big compared to you. 

“Mhmm,” you nod with a rigid tight-lipped grin. 

“You graduate?” He asks. 

You try not to show your surprise. You’re not sure you’ve ever had a conversation with him. It’s just nods and grunts sent in your direction. Just acknowledgement. Just courtesy. 

“One more year,” you say, “erm, I’ll go help mom.” 

“Right,” he drops his arms and grips the back of the chair in front of him, “don’t let me keep ya.” 

You inch backwards and spin around, trying not to run away. It isn’t him. It’s you. It’s easier to read dialogue on a page and pretend it’s coming from your lips than it is to hold a conversation in real life. You would rather go back and finish your chapter then sit at the table and eat with your family, especially now that you’ve made it awkward. 

[follows-the-bees]

Filmmaking analysis time!

How cinematography, blocking, and camerawork in S2 eps 6&7 show Ed's and Stede's emotions.

Since season one, red has been used to show the love for each other: the red of the silk and Stede's new red shirt in both moon scenes. We also know that purple comes out more as Ed falls in love with Stede.

So let's talk about Calypso's Birthday and Man on Fire.

The lighting during this scene is full of color, the reds, purples, and blues. Besides being classic bi lighting, it incorporates the red and purple that we know represents Ed's and Stede's love.

They are swimming in it. Yet, they aren't the same blockingwise, they aren't as close as last season, there is still stuff between them that needs to be spoken. They are standing by each other, their bodies turned inward, and a giant red flower sits bright and center between them, showing how large and full the love they have for each other is.

These purples and reds diminish when Ned Lowe crashes the party. His presence brings a screeching halt to the healing and good times the crew and particularly Ed and Stede are having. He not only crashes the party but right before Ed and Stede were about to dance. This giant wrecking ball that symbolizes Ed's pirate past brings in the harsh blue and green lighting and ups the trauma for both men. Green lighting is used to show that things are off, it is off-putting and fills the scene and audience with unease.

Gif credit

The purple lighting stays very subtle during this whole scene, but as Ned insults everyone, and brings up all of the still unspoken insecurities of the men, the blue shines more, especially on Stede as he makes his choice to have Ned walk the plank. We see immediately how that affects Stede, his trauma comes roaring back, he's shaking, and has tears in his eyes. He retreats back to his cabin.

Ed on the other hand is also experiencing trauma here. While helping out and being around Stede, he has been treading water, trying to figure out what he actually wants in life. And the embodiment of that, when he was at his lowest after S1, when he was trying to break the record has come back to taunt him and the man he loves. He chooses to check in on Stede.

This is when the lighting and camerawork change. We are now inside and the lighting is warm, glowing from candlelight. Ed has a yellow glow behind him when Stede opens the door, like he is the beacon of light in this storm of emotion and trauma that Stede is experiencing from his decision to kill Ned. To cross that boundary when with the rest of the crew he used his usual positive people management style.

Pay attention to their positions here, cause this upcoming choice makes this scene feel off. The pull into the room and the subsequently slam into the wall and kiss are flipped. Along with the quick movements in each shot, this triggers a little part of our brain that realizes something is off even if we don't know why. Read more about the mirror shot in this meta analysis.

When Ed and Stede decide to be together for the first time, to numb the traumatic pain in their desperation and love for each other the lighting is different. It turns a warming orange/yellow glow, showing the softness of the situation.

These men desperately love each other and want to be together. They both agree to this night, Stede pauses before kissing Ed, waits until Ed nods his head and gives consent then pulls Stede in.

And when Stede closes the curtains, the lighting is back to red and purple. The two colors symbolizing the love these two have for each other.

In the morning, the bright yellow lighting is back. The beautiful morning sky in the background looks serene and idyllic, but it also puts our characters in a shadowy haze in the foreground.

They are still in the warmth, the afterglow of being together. Ed gets nervous and brings Stede breakfast in bed. (A parallel to Doug and Mary). They have an intimate conversation where Ed opens up about seeing mermaid Stede while in Purgatory. They have now been intimate in all forms of the word.

But there is still something off, just like with the mirrored images. Stede is shirtless, open, feeling safe. Ed has ditched his leather clothing, his Blackbeard persona, and is now in fine clothing. And I can't confirm but the inside of the robe looks purple. But his robe is closed, which can be read as still hesitant, even if it's subconscious. And they have the same body language of all of the last episode. They are sitting apart, not touching, but still comfortable facing and leaning into each other.

And this bliss continues outside where they open up more. The lighting is bright, pretty, they are surrounded by greens and tans, glowing still. Stede tells him about the multiple letters in bottles he has written. They are opening up about things but they are still avoiding what needs to be talked about - the trauma, their different paths that seem to be emerging.

And then finally, when the fight happens, all of the uneasiness from the mirrored shot, the close but not yet close enough body language, all of these choices come crashing down just like the relationship.

The light is muted. They have spent part if not all of the day apart. So the lighting indicates that it is approaching sunset not only in time but in their relationship, the foreshadowing of Ed breaking up with Stede and leaving.

Ed has already made up his mind. He is leaving to be a fisherman. He thinks what happened the night before - and by that - the moving too fast part was a mistake. While they both love and want each other, Ed is self sabotaging - in a direct parallel of last season - thinks he has ruined Stede, spiralling and choosing like he's done in the past to completely run away from the darkness. He needs to learn that he can embrace both (all) sides of himself without losing himself.

Stede tries to save it. Responds to Ed saying "this can be whatever we want it to be." But then things escalate, things aren't explained. Stede doesn't realize what the fish means to Ed, and saying he lied about the quality of the fish is Ed's view of them, "they are the fish."

They need to talk, about what they want, their diverting paths, finding common ground, and learn how to be in this relationship.

They believe the exact opposite of the truth. Ed thinks he's ruined Stede and that Stede won't love him if he's not Blackbeard (the chin convo!) And Stede thinks he isn't good enough for Ed (and everyone, that is why he goes a little crazy when people recognize him - in a direct parallel to Ed during the dinner party in 1x5.) And Ed doesn't love his softness.

All the lighting reaffirms just how much these two love each other, but the blocking, mirrored camerawork, and fast movements show the underlying unresolved tension that has been building up and ultimately leads to this rift.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Tied Together - John Wick X Female Reader

Title: Tied Together

John Wick X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Dog/Boy (John's Pitbull), and Freckles the Dalmatian (OC)

Requested by Anon!

WC: 1,594

Warnings: embarrassment, nervousness, slight 101 Dalmatians movie reference/meet cute, John being John, awkwardness, slight angst, and fluff

The sun was shining brightly down upon you and your dog, Freckles. He was a Dalmatian, with five prominent spots on his nose and around his eyes, with black ears, and the usual black spots that dotted his short white coat. He was a beautiful, angelic animal... When he wanted to be. He was always running off on his own to do things like play in the park, or run through the woods in search of birds, squirrels, or any other small prey animals. But that was just how dogs acted, and you loved Freckles. He was your best friend. 

The park was nice, calm, and with very few kids running around; playing games, or having picnics with their families. It was just perfect weather for a walk. You weren't really paying attention, but with a sharp tug of the leash, you looked up abruptly. Freckles was bouncing or hopping back and forth, looking up at you with wide bright eyes, seemingly excited about something. You frowned slightly, tilting your head.

"Freckles... Honey... What is it?" You asked your hyper dog. "Is it a squirrel?" His tail wagged wildly and he let out another yip of excitement. And before you knew it, Freckles bolted. You almost fell forward, stumbling to not fall as Freckles pulled you along behind him. This dog was certainly more intelligent than most. You knew he wanted something, and you almost regretted putting him on the leash. You looked up, eyes widening when your dog went barreling into someone. 

Freckles jumped up on a man, his dirty paws landing on the man's suit pants, making you cringe. The man turned, looking down at the tail-wagging, tongue-hanging-out dog. The man's black hair fell like dark curtains, framing his face almost too perfectly. Your heart stopped at the sight of his brown eyes, so deep, you couldn't imagine ever looking away. His lips were pulled into a tight frown as if angry; however, his eyes told you differently. They held an emotion you had never seen before. A kind of sadness that made you yourself worry. You swallowed nervously, giving the man an awkward smile as you quickly apologized. "I'm sorry. Freckles doesn't usually do this." 

The man looked back down at your dog, who hopped off his legs and began to sniff his Pitbull. "Freckles?" He asked, his voice deep and mysterious, making you wonder what his morning voice would sound like.

You nodded sheepishly. "Yeah... Uh... He's got spots, like freckles... So I sort of got inspiration from that?" You spoke, your sentence becoming more of a question the more you spoke. 

The man before you then turned down to look at the dogs, watching them play with each other. It was silent for a long time, an awkward tension in the air as you watched your dog, subtly glancing at the man beside you. He still hadn’t said anything, which made you feel even more nervous. His overall presence beside you made you nervous. You couldn't get over how handsome the man was. He was definitely more attractive than any guy you’d ever met. You shook your head lightly. That thought was ridiculous and inappropriate. You were only meeting the man for the first time, and already thinking about that?

"So..." You began, instantly cringing at yourself, "What's your dog's name?" You asked, and the man beside you said nothing for a while, making you want to crawl up inside a hole and die, but you let out a breath when he finally spoke.

"... Boy. His name is Boy." He answered, his voice softening and sounding more relaxed now.

Your jaw dropped slightly. "... Oh." You responded lamely, and you could've kicked yourself. "Boy… That's a good name for him…" You added quietly, looking back down at Freckles and Boy playing. You couldn't help smiling slightly.

He chuckled softly. "Yes, I suppose it is." Then he smiled slightly, before turning slightly towards you, his hand out. "My name is John."

Your eyes widened slightly as you took his hand, shaking it gently, feeling your cheeks heat up slightly. "Uh... Y/N. Nice to meet you." You stuttered, feeling more embarrassed with every passing second that passed by. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears and felt sick to your stomach. You were so stupid... So unbelievably stupid. You should've been able to hold a normal conversation with him, and yet here you were trying to make small talk. "So, uh... Where'd you get Boy?"

John glanced at you before looking back at the two playing dogs, "A kennel." He answered simply, and you looked at him with a surprised expression.

"Really? That is so sweet. Rescuing dogs is such a noble and heroic thing. I didn't get the chance for Freckles. My parents gifted him to me." You replied with a soft giggle, causing John to glance back at you. You cleared your throat before speaking again, "Sorry. Uh, I'm not really good at socializing." You said quickly, your cheeks growing warmer with embarrassment.

"No apologies needed," He murmured, "Socializing isn't really part of my expertise either." He added, causing you to blink in surprise.

"Oh... Well..." You trailed off. Why did you suddenly feel the need to fill the silence? Why did you want to speak to him further? You tried to think of what to say. "Well, it's nice to meet another introvert like me." You inwardly cringed again, realizing how stupid that sounded.

John gave you a look, and you thought you almost saw another smile before a small yip brought your eyes to your dog. You bit your lip briefly before you looked up at John once more, "Uh, I might as well go. I have to make lunch soon, and Freckles must be tired from all the playing." You chuckled, as Freckled pranced over to you. "It was nice meeting you, John." You looked down at Boy. “And you too, Boy.” The pitbull barked happily.

John nodded, offering you a small smile, "You too."

As you turned to walk away, Freckles walked with you for a while before he barked up at you, suddenly turning and running back to John and Boy. You watched in horror as Freckles ran up to John and Boy, your rambunctious dog then launched you into John's back. Slightly startling the man as he turned around, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you blushed madly. You tried to pull away, apologizing profusely but you couldn't move your legs. Looking down, you watched as Freckles chased Dog around you and John, ultimately tying the two of you together with the leash. 

"Freckles! Stop!" You shouted both yours and John's bodies pressed together uncomfortably as you tried to stop your dog. Looking up at John, you continued to apologize. "I'm sorry about him, he's usually very well-behaved."

John shook his head, his hands wrapped almost protectively around your biceps, "It's alright, please don't apologize."

"Well, I can't help but be sorry." You spoke, almost defeated. "I feel so embarrassed." You mumbled softly, feeling your cheeks grow hot as you stared up at the man, who smiled slightly at you, his hand loosening its grip on your arm.

"Please, don't worry." He spoke, "It was an accident."

"I know." You sighed, "Here, we should try and get out of this." You mentioned before you and John began to successfully untangle yourselves from the leash. 

Hands on your hips, you glared down at Freckles, who looked up at you with wide puppy dog eyes. "Oh, you're in big trouble, mister." You scolded him gently, in a slight baby voice. "No treat tonight." At your words, Freckles whined, before seemingly huffing and sitting down. "Oh, don't give me that attitude, young man." You chastised sternly, and Freckles pouted up at you. "Don't give me that look! Don't you dare pout at me either!" John looked at you with a warm smile, clearly amused. His smile left once you turned to look up at him. "I'm sorry about him again, there has to be something I can do to make it up to you." You offered.

John quickly shook his head, "No, it's alright. I understand."

You took your turn to shake your head, "No, please. I must do something to make this up to you. I won't be able to sleep at night if I don't." You practically pleaded. John stared at you, frowning slightly, the gears turning in his head as you continued, "Please, let me take you to this sweet diner I know. I'll pay for lunch."

John paused for a moment, his brows furrowing in thought as he slowly shook his head, as if not wanting to accept. "You don't have to do that."

"But I want to." You insisted.

John continued to stare at you, his eyes raking over your features, analyzing everything he could; from your hair to your eyes, to your lips. His own lips parted, but no words came out. Could John open his heart again? Could he let his cold heart thaw? Could John let someone back into his heart? He opened his mouth a few times, an "Alright." Finally fell out. You smiled widely.

"Really?" You asked excitedly.

"Sure." He repeated himself, his hands finding a place in his pants pockets. "So, where is this diner?"

You grabbed Freckles's leash as you and John began to walk out of the park, Freckles and Boy fooling around as they followed. "Well, it's just up the street! It's super nice, has the best milkshakes, and is pet friendly..."

[tangibletechnomancy]

The AI Boom and the Mechanical Turk

A hidden, overworked man operating a painting, chess-playing robot, generated with the model Dreamlike Diffusion on Simple Stable, ~4 hours Created under the Code of Ethics of Are We Art Yet?

In 1770, an inventor named Wolfgang von Kempelen created a machine that astounded the world, a device that prompted all new understanding of what human engineering could produce: the Automaton Chess Player, also known as the Mechanical Turk. Not only could it play a strong game of chess against a human opponent, playing against and defeating many challengers including statesmen such as Benjamin Franklin and Napoleon Bonaparte, it could also complete a knight's tour, a puzzle where one must use a knight to visit each square on the board exactly once. It was a marvel of mechanical engineering, able to not only choose its moves, but move the pieces itself with its mechanical hands.

It was also a giant hoax.

What it was: genuinely a marvel of mechanical engineering, an impressively designed puppet that was able to manipulate pieces on a chessboard.

What it wasn't: an automaton of any kind, let alone one that could understand chess well enough to play at a human grandmaster's level. Instead, the puppet was manipulated by a human chess grandmaster hidden inside the stage setup.

So, here and now, in 2023, we have writers and actors on a drawn-out and much needed strike, in part because production companies are trying to "replace their labor with AI".

How is this relevant to the Mechanical Turk, you ask?

Because just like back then, what's being proposed is, at best, a massive exaggeration of how the proposed labor shift could feasibly work. Just as we had the technology then to create an elaborate puppet to move chess pieces, but not to make it choose its moves for itself or move autonomously, we have the technology now to help people flesh out their ideas faster than ever before, using different skill sets - but we DON'T have the ability to make the basic idea generation, the coherent outlining, nor the editing nearly as autonomous as the companies promising this future claim.

What AI models can do: Various things from expanding upon ideas given to them using various mathematical parameters and descriptions, keywords, and/or guide images of various kinds, to operating semi-autonomously as fictional characters, when properly directed and maintained (e.g., Neuro-sama).

What they can't do: Conceive an entire coherent movie or TV show and write a passable script - let alone scripts for an entire show - from start to finish without human involvement, generate images with a true complete lack of human involvement, act fully autonomously as characters, or...do MOST of the things such companies are trying to attribute to "AI (+unimportant nameless human we GUESS)", for that matter.

The distinction may sound small, but it is a critical one: the point behind this modern Mechanical Turk scam, after all, is that it allegedly eliminates human involvement, and thus the need to pay human employees, right...?

But it doesn't. It only enables companies to shift the labor to a hidden, even more underpaid sector, and even argue that they DESERVE to be paid so little once found out because "okay okay so it's not TOTALLY autonomous but the robot IS the one REALLY doing all the important work we swear!!"

It's all smoke and mirrors. A lie. A Mechanical Turk. Wrangling these algorithms into creating something truly professionally presentable - not just as a cash-grab gimmick that will be forgotten as soon as the novelty wears off - DOES require creativity and skill. It IS a time-consuming labor. It, like so many other uses of digital tools in creative spaces (e.g., VFX), needs to be recognized as such, for the protection of all parties involved, whether their role in the creative process is manual or tool-assisted.

So please, DO pay attention to the men behind the curtain.

[sunforgrace]

strictly in a writing sense it is so. it’s really. they kept flashing chekhov’s gun for 12 years like a high school color guard while going gun? there’s no gun. maybe you are confusing our batons for a gun. we would never have a gun in this show. in this show. meanwhile the color guard is playing keep away with the gun. and then in final season 15 they hang it up on the wall and gesture to it like vanna white. then in the 18th episode they take it off the wall, fire it at castiel the angel, kick the body off to the side behind a curtain and say pay no attention to that man behind the curtain. then put their hands, holding the gun, behind their backs while saying gun? what gun. there’s no gun here. meanwhile you see castiel stand up behind the curtain. his feet are poking out. and you go what’s that. and they go don’t worry about that. he is alive and well but that’s all you need to know. and you go can I see him. and they go no. also it’s important to know that chronologically. before cas stood up behind the curtain they ran at dean winchester like a looney tunes character shoved him onto a structurally purposeless spike protruding from the wall and shouted get into the car go go go!

[impala-dreamer]

Tourniquet - Chapter Eight

A Supernatural Dean x Reader Series Told Backwards

~Y/N has been by Dean’s side through his worst days, always there if he needs her, forever just a call away. Love is impossible to fight and more impossible to live with. Just a side character in his epic life, Y/N would give anything just to give Dean a moment’s peace.~

Please see MASTERLIST for full info/warnings/chapter links.

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works ~ Get A Custom Story

Everybody Loves The Pain

It had been a while but she found her way back easily. The yard seemed a little fuller, as if Bobby had spent the last few years building a fence of bumpers and old tires. As she parked, she could see a bit of the field behind the house and her smile was genuine but sad. 

This was no happy trip. 

The house was somber, the air stale like she remembered. The curtains were closed and streams of light peeked through the moth-bitten holes, illuminating the dust as it danced to the floor. 

Bobby was at his desk, a bottle of whiskey open and half gone. His chin was down and he breathed deeply; asleep, she was sure. Sam was stretched out half asleep on the lumpy sofa, his legs hanging off the end and she wondered if the poor guy ever got a comfortable rest. 

She set her bag down silently and then cleared her throat.

“Well, this place looks like shit.” 

Sam jumped as if someone had shocked him with a taser and Bobby’s head popped up instantly. He reached for his gun and then blinked into the dim light, finding Y/N waiting in the archway. 

“If you gotta problem with how I keep house,” he grunted, “clean it yourself.” 

He smiled through the gruff and sprang up, opening his arms to her. 

He felt like home more than the house did. Bobby was forever her constant; her father more surely than her own ever was. 

“Hey, Bluebell.” He kissed her cheek roughly, hugged her too tight. 

“Hi, Bobby.” She hugged him back just as tight. “Missed you.” 

He pulled back with a smile and squeezed her shoulder, standing aside so she could greet the younger man. 

“Heya, Sam.” She smiled but it was hard to keep it from looking like pity. “You got tall.” 

He laughed a little, the first laugh he’d had in a week. “Yeah. You look good too.” 

Y/N scrunched up her nose. “I didn’t say you looked good, Sam. Pay attention. You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

It was too soon to say such a thing and she knew it, but if she wasn’t there to help them feel a little better, she didn’t know what to do. 

Sam dropped his chin and stuffed his hands into his pockets. She could see the tears spring into his eyes and she ran to him, tugging him down as her arms wrapped around his shoulders. 

He held her, buried his face in the crook of her neck, held back a sob. 

“I’m so sorry, Sam,” she whispered. “John was a good man.” 

He took a deep breath, wiped at his eye as he stood back up. “Yeah. Thanks.” 

It was quiet for a moment until her heart wouldn’t let her avoid the question any longer. 

“Where is he?” 

Sam nodded toward the back door. “Fixing up the car.” 

She patted his cheek softly; felt the water and the warmth beneath her fingertips.

“It’ll be OK, Sam. I promise.” 

The sun felt good on her face. Something about South Dakota just felt different. She’d been all around the country, stepping a toe in just about every state, but nothing felt like this. 

She heard him before she could see him. 

The turn of a ratchet, the creak of metal, a curse under his breath. 

She stopped a few feet away, surveying the damage. 

The Impala was a mess but she could tell he’d been working on it for a while. The paint was chipped and dull, the trunk and hood were missing; the windows shattered. The passenger side was dented badly, crushed under the grill of the attacking truck. It made her stomach turn to think of the guys inside, unconscious and bleeding, bones snapped, hearts straining. 

She sucked in a trembling breath and he heard it. 

Dean rolled out from beneath the car and squinted up into the blazing sun. 

“It ain’t that bad,” he joked. “Shoulda seen the other guy.” 

His face was covered in dirt and two long gashes, one on his cheek, the other marring his forehead. There was dust in his hair and grease on his hands. He was sunburnt and sweating, that same old gray t-shirt soaked under the arms and at the small of his back. 

“I bet it’s a total wreck,” she said, forcing a smile. 

Slowly, he climbed to his feet and pulled a rag from his back pocket. She moved closer as he wiped at the dirt on his hands. He kept his eyes down on his work, afraid to meet her gaze. 

“You look pretty banged up too.” 

He shrugged and looked up finally, green eyes almost glowing in the midday sun. “Nah. Just a scratch or two.” 

She couldn’t hold back any longer. “Dean…” 

When she touched his cheek, he melted into her palm, sinking just a little bit before snapping the mask back on. 

“I’m OK,” he lied. “Really.” 

Even on his best day, he’d never been able to lie to her, but Y/N let it go, deciding to follow his lead. Whatever he needed, she would do, whatever he wanted, she’d give. 

“You gonna say a proper ‘hello’ then? I’m waitin’.” 

He smiled, really smiled. 

Dean dipped down and wrapped his arms around her middle as she cradled his head. It felt like no time had passed; their bodies would always fit together like this, her curves against his, arms holding tight. 

“I’m…” Her voice got stuck in the back of her throat. He didn’t want to hear it, but she needed to say it. “He did the right thing, Dean.”

She felt him stiffen immediately and his arms were gone before her voice trailed off. 

He turned away, swatted a fly away from his face. “It’s fine.” 

No softness in his tone, only pain. 

“Dean-” 

He cleared his throat. “I said, I’m fine.” 

He didn’t look back. 

They were gone for almost a week, off in Wisconsin working a case. Bobby had tried to dissuade them from going, but Y/N knew better. Dean needed to get out and stretch his legs. Sure looked funny to see him behind the wheel of a minivan, but she kept that to herself. 

She kept a lot of things to herself lately. Things that hurt too much to say out loud, things that haunted her whenever her eyes were closed. She was finishing up a rough case in Arizona when Bobby called to tell her about John, and she’d hightailed it up I-25, pushing her old Ford truck as fast as it would go. 

Bobby never pried, but listened intently to whatever she was willing to talk about. 

She told him about the hunts she’d been on recently, and the boys she’d met along the way. He cringed and covered his ears around the details, much like a father preferring not to hear about her romances. 

“I’m real glad to see you, Y/N/N.” 

She knocked back her whiskey and nodded. “You too. I miss it here.” 

He scratched at his beard. “You could always hang around for a bit. The place could use a woman’s touch. And I sure do miss your cooking.” 

Y/N laughed and shook her head. “Yeah. My cooking. You’re still funny, Bobby.” 

He leaned forward in his chair, hands folding on the desktop. “Stay a while. I’m gettin’ old; you could use a break from the road…” 

The churn of rocks under tires told them the boys were back. She looked off toward the front door, waiting to see him. 

Bobby sighed. “Would do him some good to spend time with you.” 

She exhaled a laugh. “Yeah, right. He’s never needed me.” 

“Just because he doesn’t ask for it, doesn’t mean he don’t need it.” 

“So, what? I’m supposed to sit around my whole life waiting for a call from-” 

The door opened and Dean stepped inside. His eyes flickered from Y/N to Bobby and back again. He sensed the mood and his cheeks burned. 

“You guys talkin’ about me?” he asked, a hint of a smirk on his plump lips. 

Y/N rolled her eyes and pushed herself up off of the couch. “Yeah, Dean. Always.” 

She watched from the kitchen while he worked on the car. 

She stirred the chili pot and he smoothed out the frame. 

She added a pinch of salt and he shined the chrome. 

When Sam went outside to talk to him, Y/N tried to let them have their private time, but she couldn’t help keeping one eye on the window, the other on the cornbread in the oven. 

The crash of shattered glass startled her; the thunderous punch of hammer to metal made her stomach flip. 

Y/N stood in the doorway, watching as Dean took the sledgehammer to the Impala, undoing all his hard work, taking out his anger on the poor car.

For a split second, he looked up at her and when their eyes met, he shied away, taking another swing. 

She wanted to run to him, to rip the hammer from his hands and hold him tight. She wanted to push away his pain, keep him safe, but her feet stayed planted on the dingy tiles. He needed this breakdown more than he needed her touch. 

It was two a.m. when he snuck into her room, lifted the blanket from her chest and slid underneath. 

Y/N stirred and blinked into the darkness. 

“Dean?” 

His voice cracked with tears even through the whisper. “Sorry. I- I can’t sleep.” 

The bed creaked under his weight and she scooted back towards the wall to give him room. 

“Don’t go,” he begged, throwing his arm around her and settling close. 

She cuddled into him, pressing her ear to his heart. “Never.”

Quiet washed over them and his breathing slowed. She drew tight circles on his naked arm, a repetitive touch that soothed his mind a tiny bit.  

Out of nowhere, she felt him shake, shoulders twitching inwards as the tears broke free. 

“My dad’s dead,” he said suddenly, as if it were the first time he’d really said it, truly believed it. 

Y/N pushed up and away, balancing on her arm so she could look down upon him. 

“I know, Dean. I’m so sorry.” She lay a hand on his chest, pushing gently to let him know she was there with him. “John was a…” 

“Don’t say great man. He was an asshole.” 

She nodded. “I know. Don’t make it hurt any less.” 

Dean closed his eyes and bit back the pain. His jaw clenched and he took a deep breath. “Yeah.” 

Gently, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’ve got you, Dean.” 

His jaw unclenched and he exhaled slowly. 

“Whatever you need,” she whispered, “I’ve got you.” 

His hands lifted, his fingers pushed through her hair. His kiss was heated and desperate and she let him have what he needed. He lost himself in her taste, found comfort in her soft moans as his hands slid down her body. He never moved to push her pjs aside, never lingered long enough anywhere to drive her really insane, but it was what he needed. He needed her skin on his, needed her warmth, her tenderness. 

The moment died down slowly and Dean rolled onto his side, staring at her. “I don’t deserve you, you know that?”

Y/N shook her head sadly and dropped it onto his arm. “Shut up.” 

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[onemuseleft]

Who is “better” at haunted houses, Steve or Tony?

And better can be: who has the most fun, who gets scared the most/least, who gets into the spirit of it the best, who is not desperately afraid of accidentally letting his reflexes take over and wacking a poor actor, etc?

And are they the kinda couple that clutch each other the whole time or are they both trying to be brave and each getting razed when they jump at different points?

Okay so they're both best - or both the worst, but it depends entirely on who you're asking. Tony's never phased at all, he barely blinks, but that's because he knows how every animatronic and illusion works at a glance and nothing surprises him. Also half the time he's barely paying attention because he's either distracted working on a problem in his head or watching Steve/the others have a good time. Steve, on the other hand, loves a good scare and genuinely enjoys the showmanship of it all (he gets real annoyed about the ones set in hospitals/asylums and refuses to participate in those on the grounds that it's in extremely bad taste at best). He's the guy who goes through the whole thing with a grin on his face and laughing after they manage to succcessfully startle him. He alternates between lingering to examine the decorations and holding everyone up, or going too fast because he's having a good time and wants to see the next thing. He's never punched anyone, fortunately, but one time one of the performers accidentally whacked Tony while coming out from behind a curtain and Steve bodily lifted the man up and swung him around to the opposite side of the room before setting him back down, on instinct. It's very, very hard to say who was more startled by that. They totally hold hands through the whole thing, not because they're scared but because that way 1) Steve knows Tony isn't on his phone 2) Tony can't try to pry apart any interesting bits of mechanics to "improve" it 3) Steve doesn't get left behind because he stopped to engage with one of the more in-character performers.

Clint and Peter refuse to go through Haunted Houses with either of them anymore on the grounds that they ruin the experience. (Clint and Peter spend the entire time clinging to one of Natasha's arms and shrieking like children every time an animatronic moves unexpectedly).

Natasha has punched one of the performers but he had it coming and she regrets nothing.

[crimson-phantom-designs]

More info on my modern au called Sweet Tooth.

Francis Osman is the leader of the Turkish Mafia in Western Europe. Fleeing Turkey years back, he established a brutal reputation as some of Europe's most sadistic gangsters. For now, Francis and his gang are keeping a low profile due to someone close to him flipping with Interpol, which resulted in something devastating he swore to never experience again. Whilst this, they are in conflict with the Clerkenwell crime syndicate, otherwise known as 'the torture gang'. An equally malicious mob of smugglers who, since the Turkish Arifs took over London's underworld scene, their battle for territory has come close to an all-out war. What with this recent development crippling all of their profits, they are trying to strangle Francis' hold on the area and take over.

Francis is tearing through the backroads of London in his cherished Porsche to meet with his underboss Verrill Özdemir "Demi" who orchestrated a Comission with the surrounding heads to try and prevent a gang war at a time no one can afford it. He's looking for an out, maybe. Or a way to funnel money in a more advantageous way to get profits 📈 again under federal scrutiny.

He might have found both options in a happenstance encounter with a man and his spunky 13 year old at the park over his need for speed and a damn candy bar, but which one will he choose? An out for himself with this man or will he burn the man's life down to reestablish his crew through manipulation, taking piece by piece, because 'it's just business'...

This is a previously established Jacob Marley/Ebenezer Scrooge au (they were more closer in age here cause, eh)

Jacob and Ebenezer had adopted a young girl from a tragic situation shortly after marriage and raised her when Jacob died in a fatal car accident with Eb's sister Jan seven years ago due to coming to the aid of someone Eb still despises for taking so much from them, even if the loss sent him a revelation in life. Eb has a fear of car accidents taking more from him, which is why he drives so slowly, especially with Beryl.

The story is a SMAU which means it will be written, but with these post, Instagram and text conversations in between with artwork for photos.

Handles below, and the differences in personality are amusing. Francis' just kills me. These Hands. Eb is just lonely and secretly pines, even if he's given up trying to find love again and pours that into his besotted devotion to Beryl but he does gripe politics and talk bitchy about his competitors. Bob is just here for support and to follow news facts and nature groups. He takes pictures from his timeshare cabin alot(even if Eb bitches it's a scam) and is insufferable about outdoorsy events with the family. Eventually the man will move them to the woods to be one with nature, I swear. XD More characters have handles but these are the main ones seen.

Being Francis would absolutely NOT use his full name or have a public account for liability reasons, he would be creative. His account is mainly to lurk other accounts(mafia modernized) and keep updated on current events. People that follow him are in his inner circle or he's baiting them to think they are.

The Oz is a reference to yes the Wizzard of Oz because of course he would see himself that way. XD

He's the man behind the scenes running everything. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!

@rom-e-o @sasha-geonn

Below are some examples of what they post before they meet.

[hxlyhoax]

Don’t Stop Believen’

Jim Hopper x Hopper!Reader

Season 1/2 ish ?

warning(s): grumpy! to soft! dad hopper <33 , reader singing don’t stop believin’ , father / child cuddle session , sappy ending ? I suppose. I think that’s it but if you think I should add something let me know!

@m-rae23

━━━━━ © hxlyhoax 2022 do not steal, post on third party sites or translate my work. I do not own the rights to Stranger Things or any of the canon characters mentioned.

You sighed, laying in bed. Your father had yet to come home and Eleven was fast asleep in the single bedroom you gave up to her when she was found.

You rolled around on the bed, you were having a hard time sleeping per usual. You sat up at the sound of a car pulling up, tensing for a moment before relaxing with a slight giggle as your dad accidentally pressed the siren button before turning the police car off.

The sound of muttered curses were heard on the front porch as your dad did the special knock. “Yn? Eleven?” he spoke a little louder, trying to look behind the closed curtain. “I’m right here, calm down, old man.” you giggled once again as the man behind the door grunted. “Told you to stop calling me that.” he frowned as the front door opened.

“Yeah. Yeah.” you rolled your eyes, walking back to the bed. “Did I wake you?”

“No, I couldn’t sleep” you shrugged, laying back under the covers while the older man nodded, heading to the bathroom to take a shower.

It had been a few minutes since the shower started, You were staring at the ceiling quietly humming to yourself. Don’t Stop Believin’ by Journey was the song of choice for the night.

You were still humming when Hopper got out of the shower, missing at how he stared at you in annoyance and confusion. He wasn’t annoyed with you; he had just had one hell of a day and you unfortunately weren’t helping the situation.

“Just a small-town girl, livin' in a lonely world.” you began to sing softly, “She took the midnight train goin' anywhere.”

“Yn.” your father sighed, knowing it fell upon deaf ears, you were in your own little world at the moment. “Just a city boy, born and raised in South Detroit.” you started swaying your head from side to side, “He took the midnight train goin' anywhere.” you smiled, jumping at the sound of the older man letting out a cough.

“Huh?” you looked at him, innocent eyes. “That’s enough.” he shook his head, plopping down onto his armchair. “I didn’t even get to the best part yet.” you complained with a pout.

“That’s. Enough.” he stared at you, eyes piercing through your soul in the dark room. “Fine.” you mumbled, crossing your arms, staring at the ceiling in silence once again.

“A singer in a smoky room.” you began singing quietly again, “The smell of wine and cheap perfume.”

You faintly heard your father sigh, opting to not pay attention to it since you weren’t being that loud. “For a smile, they can share the night it goes on and on and on and on.”

“Yn, for the love of god. Please.”

You looked over at him, “I can’t sleep.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“It is now.”

“Yn, please.”

“Fine.” you grumbled, turning away from him, staring at the wooden wall, holding onto your pillow, trying to count sheep; it didn’t work, it never did for you.

“Hey, Da—”

“Come here.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, looking over at him. “Huh?”

“Come here.”

You sighed, getting up walking over to your dad who held open arms. You smiled softly, cuddling into him, wrapping your arms around him.

“I know it’s been a while—” he began, biting his lip, thinking about the strained relationship the both of you have. “But, I also know this always did the trick.” he smiled, rubbing your back, softly chuckling at the sight of you already half asleep. “Looks like the old man’s still got it.”

You smiled, nodding. “You’re a dickhead but you’re still a safe space for me, despite everything.”

He smiled hearing those words, He never really knew where he truly lied with you. You were an expert at hiding your emotions, so he always thought you held a grudge towards, didn’t want anything to do with him. But, hearing that you still think of him as a safe space made him want to cry (happy tears, of course).

“I’m still a safe space for you?”

“Always.” you smiled, letting slumber take you over soon after.

[dreadgloom]

OOC.

I will be back some time tomorrow to do asks and replies since I will finally have a day off after taking my cat to his yearly check up at the vet! Also, been having many thoughts about many things lately. Here is a small list of them for your enjoyment:

thinking about editing some of Dio’s backstory a little, making her 100 years older (from 332 to 432 in age), and writing some headcanons

I want to expand on dio’s parents and activities pre-bg3 events even if it’s just a little bit about her trips up and down the sword coast

maybe delve more into dio’s feelings on Psionics and the fact that she does her utmost to keep any form of psionics from manifesting even though she is from the psionic drow house

in their modern verse they are a mortician that def helps hide bodies and has a four year degree in chemistry/botany because ‘it’s a fun subject’

if in the setting of the elder scrolls games (specifically Skyrim) dio would be a dunmer with ties to both the thieves’ guild and the dark brotherhood, might have a former connection to the companions (if she did then she was either kicked out for being to violent or she slipped away one night when she realized her morals would never align with the groups), possibly be a werecrocodile, possibly owns the Shadowfoot Sanctum in Riften, defiantly has a healthy respect for Hircine + Sithis + the Night Mother + Nocturnal but isn’t big on ‘deity worship’, is absolutely a stealth archer + dagger specialist, and would be a recruitable follower for the Dragonborn once her side quest was fulfilled

[thornfield13713]

the way I think about Marian is like...that post about how real emotionally repressed people seem like the chillest, friendliest, nicest people ever...and then you realise you know basically nothing about them. That’s her. She’s very good at putting up that front - so good, in fact, that a lot of the people she hates have no idea that she hates them - and only really shows her truest self to those she loves and trusts. And even then, she portions it out very carefully, and has a lot of different gradations of trust that affect what she allows people to see.

Red or purple options mostly come out around people she actually cares for - or, later in the game, when she is just...utterly done with a situation, as a lot of her character development is learning to shed the ‘smiling, conciliatory, pay no attention to the man behind the curtain’ front and take a public stand rather than running and hiding. Bethany joining the Wardens is probably the biggest turning point there, with her mother’s death coming a close second - she sheds the front she used to protect them, because there is nothing left to protect.

[redqueenphoenix]

I am A Good Girl...

(DC/Marvel Crossover Fic)

So, I am currently working on a multiverse crossover cuz why not... and here we go with the a small preview of the insanity. I do not own any of the characters other than my OC Ruby Heart.

Inspiration - I am a Good Girl from the movie Burlesque

All characters in this fan fiction are over the age of 21 years old.

The Comedian X Female OC

Word Count:2433

Ruby couldn’t believe that she got fired from the diner a few days ago. They should have sided with her. They probably would have if she didn’t throw the man that grabbed her ass through a window. It was down right revolting to have the boss of the diner get on her case for damages and then misconduct at work, like she wasn’t the victim.

Shaking her head she continued down the street to the apartment that she managed to secure for herself after she got thrown into this hell hole of a reality. Whoever did this was going to pay, it was not a place that she would like to permanently call home. Especially since she was ripped away from everyone she knew. 

She passed a building with pulsing music, neon lights and people standing outside to get in, most of them seemed to be of the male variety. Rolling her eyes, she clutched her purse a bit tighter to her side as she picked up speed with her head down. She was just about to pass the building when she bumped right into a woman with purple hair and heels. 

“Sorry.” Ruby said quickly as she looked up.

“It’s ok.” The woman spoke, her emerald green eyes were lined in dark black liner and her lips glittered in the neon lights. “You alright?” She asked as she looked behind her, “one of the patrons didn’t mess with you did they?”

Ruby shook her head, “no, I was just on my way home. Sorry for running into you. It’s been a long day.”

She brushed a lock of her purple hair back as she smiled, “I’ve had those. What’s got you down hun?”

Sighing heavily she ran her hand through her hair, “I got fired from the job I was at because the boss thought it was too much to throw a guy through a window over touching me without my permission. So here I am, rent’s due in a week and I can’t find a job.”

The woman shook her head, “that’s rough girl. I can hook you up with a job. Can you dance?” 

Ruby thought for a moment, “yeah.”

The woman extended her hand, “the name’s Jade come on in and let’s get you set up. Can’t have you homeless now, can we?”

“I’m Ruby, Ruby Heart.” She smiled as she shook Jade’s hand.

“Wow, that's your real name or did you already pick one out?” Jade laughed as she led her towards the back door of the building.

“Was born with it.” She laughed with her as they headed inside.

~*~

Ruby found herself grabbing her bag from the house and heading out for work. The last two weeks had flown by, the job paid well and it wasn’t as degrading as she thought it would be. She actually found that she was enjoying the attention. She had become fast friends with Jade and found herself hanging out with her even after work. It was good to finally find a friend in this reality.

The bouncer that worked the back door smiled and opened the door for her. As she walked in she was met with the thumping of the music out on the stage and the chattering of the few girls in back that worked there with her. 

“Ruby!” Jade called out from her vanity, waving her over to the one next to her. “I was worried you weren't going to show up tonight. Slow nights can suck. That was the first one we had since you started.”

Ruby made her way over to the vanity decked out in red confetti and plastic rubies, “I seriously thought about calling in to be honest, but here I am.”

“Don’t let a slow day get you down. We got some of our regulars tonight.” Jade smirked as she adjusted her burlesque costume. “Plus we got a real sleeze in here tonight. He seems to be loaded though. Only if you can stand getting close to him while he’s blowing cigar smoke everywhere and flirting like he’s god’s gift to women.”

Ruby slipped behind the curtain by their vanities changing into her own burlesque costume for the night. “Sounds like a real scumbag.” She adjusted her top that had a heart showing her cleavage. Reaching into her bag she sprayed on some perfume, checked her makeup and then slipped into her heels that were also in her bag. 

She listened to the music and looked out from the side door of the back to see how packed they were. The music filled her ears as the door cracked open, smoke and strobe lights met her as she looked out into the patronage of the evening. It was a fairly decent crowd tonight and most of them seemed to have a drink in their hands. That was a good sign to her. The more they drink, the more money they throw. 

Catching a glimpse of Jade heading to the back of the floor with a well aged bottle of gin peaked her curiosity. She came to a stop at the table that Ruby assumed was the sleeze that they were discussing earlier. Edging out the door further she tried to get a better look, but his back was to her. The only thing she could make out was that he was built, dark black hair groomed to the side while cigar smoke billowed from the table. Stepping back into the door she rolled her eyes, she knew she had to work the floor after her number.

“Hey, Ruby, you're about to go out.” Another one of the girls said to her as she retreated to the back. 

Taking a deep breath she made her way towards the back stairs to the stage. She heard the last song drop off and the in between music play as the curtain dropped to set her up for her performance. Her heels clicked as she stepped out onto the stage, the lavish pleated curtain hiding her from the patrons while she sat down on the chaise they brought out for her performance. Her long red hair curled around her perfect make up job. She had only been there a week or so but she had become the talk of the club and the most sought after show. 

Leaning back on the chaise the curtain began to rise as the spicy jazz music kicked in. 

“Where have I been all my life.” She sang as she rose up on the chaise with the spotlight on her. She continued to sing to the song as she got off the chase lounge and danced. Her moves are precise and provocative as she flirted with the crowd with her dancing. “They all say darling what did you do for those pearls?” She brought her hand up to her face in mock shock, “What?! I am a good girl…” She turned from the crowd and walked up the stair case with a flirtatious bounce in each step. 

As Ruby began to dance up the stairs and then sit down on one to give a slightly suggestive shimmy and leg spread, she caught the attention of the “sleeze” at the back of the bar. His eyes locked on her as she got up and walked over to the pole that was at the top of the stairs. She moved with class as she swung herself around it as she sang. A pearly, white grin broke across his lips as he wedged his cigar in his mouth. Standing up and adjusting the black suit jacket he wore, making his way up to the front near the stage with intrigue. Redheads were his weakness and this one was feisty.

Ruby’s hands gripped the pole as she came around it, playfully kicking her feet under her, “they all say my feet never do touch the ground.” She let go of the pole and brought her hand up again, “what?! I am a good girl!” She brought her hands up to ruffle her hair as she stepped towards the stairs with two other dancers. 

As the music went into a music break from her singing the girls danced provocatively down the stairs until they hit the main stage again. Once on the main stage, Ruby danced towards the curved edge of the stage, dropping to her knees and rolling her head back and forth to fan out her hair as she sat back on her knees with an innocent expression, bringing her finger tip to her lips as she blinked her eyes turning a violet color, “I am a good girl!” She carried the note as the song ended, bringing her eyes down to the crowd and locking eyes with a set of chocolate colored irises she thought she would never see again.

Her heart hammered as he grinned at her with his cigar wedged between his teeth. She quickly came to her senses about how little clothes she had on as the curtain dropped between them. When the curtain hit the floor of the stage she blinked a few times as her mind raced. “That couldn’t have been Eddie.” She whispered quietly as she got to her feet while the slow jazz played around her. Shaking her head as Kurt, one of her favorite bartenders came up to her with her robe and a glass of her favorite drink, whiskey clean.

“Wunderbar, darling! Stunning as usual. A complete show stopper.” His German accent danced in his words as he helped her into her robe. As he helped her into his robe his jacket sleeve came up a bit showing the blue skin of his wrist that wasn’t covered in ivory colored foundation. 

She smiled as she took her drink from Kurt though her mind was elsewhere. She bit her lip thinking about how much that man looked like her Eddie. There was no way he could be, since she was ported here she hadn’t seen anyone that she recognized. 

“Miss Ruby, you seem distracted. Are you well? You are very pale.” His eyes turned to her in an unnatural color of green, the yellow beneath the contacts made them almost emerald. 

She waved her hand as they made their way backstage as she sipped her drink, “sorry Kurt, I was just a bit distracted.” She blinked a few times as her eyes finally shifted back to their blue color.

“You have to be careful with that, Fräulein. People may one day catch on that you are not using contacts in your performance.” Kurt stepped down the steps and held his hand out for her to take it as she stepped down too. 

All of a sudden there was one hell of a ruckus at the side door to the back stage.

“The fuck you mean I ain’t allowed. I can go where the fuck I please.” 

The voice made her stop dead in her tracks, turning towards the door. Her heart hammering, that voice sure was Eddie’s.

The bouncer came stumbling backwards into the backstage as if he was hit by a tank. 

“Get behind me, Fräulein.” Kurt’s arm pushed Ruby behind him as he took a defensive stance. 

The first thing Ruby saw come through the door was a 44 magnum pointed forward then he stepped in. In all his full tilt glory the look of a man on a mission. 

“You ain’t even gonna say hi, doll face?” His eyes locked to her as he stepped forward completely ignoring Kurt that stood between them. 

“Patron’s are not permitted in the back, sir.” Kurt flexed his hands as he looked at the man with a gun.

A low, dark chuckle left his lips as he grinned, “and what’re you gonna do about it, pipsqueak?” 

Ruby had no time to react before Kurt disappeared into thin air. “Kurt, no!” She called out as he reappeared behind the man with the gun. 

“I’m going to throw you out.” Kurt chuckled as he grabbed the back of the man’s jacket.

Eddie nodded his head at Ruby with a devilish smirk as he turned and fired his gun. 

Kurt once again disappeared into thin air causing the bullet to hit the wall with a loud crack. He reappeared hanging from one of the beams clicking his tongue, “Herr, terrible aim.” He dove from the beam towards Eddie’s chest.

Bringing his hands up he snatched Kurt up and threw him into the wall. “You’re not big enough to stop me.” He spun the gun in his fingers as he prepared to shoot again.

As the bullet rushes towards Kurt, he once again disappears, popping back into view a few feet from Ruby as he takes off his jacket which was binding his tail to his back. “I may not be big enough, but I am fast enough.” He took off running, disappearing and reappearing in a rapid succession towards Eddie. He came back into reality with a diving punch at Eddie’s chin, connecting, sending his head to the side. As his feet hit the ground he once again teleported.

Eddie’s hand shot forward grasping at the smoke, grabbing arm before he completely disappeared taking Eddie with him and reappearing in the rafters, his tail dangling Eddie over the edge by the arm.

Eddie twisted, bringing the magnum up towards Kurt and firing a few times at him, narrowly missing him.

“Damn it boys!” Ruby exclaimed as she threw her tumbler of whiskey into the floor causing the glass to shatter. “Stop the shit!” Her eyes shifted to violet as she heard footsteps hammering towards them. “Get down here right now, Kurt!”

“As you wish, Fräulein.” His words dripped with sarcasm as his tail let go of Eddie, sending him to the ground falling feet first to the ground. Disappearing off the rafter and then reappearing next to Ruby.

Eddie landed on his feet with a look like he was going to rip Kurt apart as stormed towards the pair.

“Eddie, stop!” Ruby exclaimed as she got between the two with her arms outstretched, not giving Eddie any wiggle room to get to the smaller statured man behind her. Her features changed into one of shocked relief as he seemed to listen. “It really is you?” Her eyes widened in disbelief.

“In the flesh, doll,” Not lowering his gun from Kurt he wrapped his arm around her waist. Pulling her into him.

“You know this brute, Fräulein?” Kurt asked in complete surprise. 

“Oh boy, do I know him.” Ruby smiled as her arms came around his shoulders for a hug.

To Be Continued....

[sleepytimemoga-p2]

Threaded

Ships: Paulie Lombardo/Original Character

Cw: Racism mention

The sun and moon joined together and bore into her like watchful eyes of Gods she never knew existed, her past, future, and the stars between congregated on a peach sky only sunset could offer. Ruth didn’t move from where she laid but stared back at the cosmic forces that came to judge her, her body laying in the marble warmth of a water fountain. What would it all mean in the end? What would bring peace? She decided that it wouldn’t truly matter in the end and that was what truly was peace. A shadow loomed over her and drew her attention away from the heavens, a visage of a man obscured by shadows and a figure that imposed. He sat at the edge of the fountain and reached into the clear waters, scared fingers tracing her arm and then the small of her back, pulling her towards him. 

“Who are…?” Her mind whispered but her lips could never speak, she lifted her hand to touch him.

Ruth sighed and shook the reoccurring dream she’s been having since she’s moved to Lost Heaven out of her head with the promise that if she had that dream again, she’d call her grandmother about it. Especially if it involved a man. She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath before she went back to sewing the last bit of sequins into a dress she had on display. The cold radiating from the window made the skin on her arm prickle, the gray world outside was something she wasn’t quite used to yet.

“Woah.” A set of pale eyes peered at her and her works through the display, making her want to slink back behind the curtains and run to the back where it’s safe but she instead kept sewing, just listening. “Imagine dancin’ in that Mary!” 

“That?” Her friend tucked herself into her coat. “I heard that store mainly caters to call girls Betty.”

“Wouldn’t that be fine? Would piss your father off.” She huffed.

“I mean you could still buy a dress, I know how you like your eggs brown.” Mary smirked and Betty was suddenly flustered, running to join her friend’s side.

“It was only one time!” She whined as they finally left.

Ruth rolled her eyes and cut a thread, disappearing behind the curtains. That was another thing she was getting used to moving from the south, how subtle the prejudice was. Everything was thinly veiled and wrapped with a bow, compliments on how she spoke or looked, how she must love how “different” things were. She knew what they met by tone alone and it honestly made her want to laugh. Deep down she just wished some of them would own it. But as long as she wasn’t getting hurt, all she’d do was laugh about it over the phone later. For now it was time for work.

Her orders were all bright, vibrant, and covered in sequins. Unlike the dying world outside, her dresses were blooming with life. The woman from the window was technically right about a good chunk of her clients being prostitutes but there were also dancers and artists. She thought of them as strong women, chasing the dream of independence and exploration, women she admired and related to. But she did have to do something about her customers spreading a silly rumor, saying that she’s a love witch from the bayou who sews spells into her dresses. “Money and men would always follow if you wear Madame Moss’s dresses!”

If that were true, where the hell was her rich husband? 

Hell not even a husband, just someone to fool around with would be nice too. It feels like her bed’s getting colder each day and she wasn’t just talking about the winter weather. She sat at her table in thought.

“What I’m sayin’ Paulie is that we shoulda just gave her the money.” A heavy accent mixed in with the chime of her door’s bell, making her perk up, standing to greet the men entering her store. It wasn’t the first time she’s seen a man come in to pay for a girl’s dress. 

“Aw come on! Ain’t it nice to see where your girl gets all dolled up?” The other man chimed in. 

“You Ms.Moss?” A lean man with beady blue eyes bore into her, his suit was simple but she could easily compare him to the weather outside. The other man who she assumed was Paulie, was busy standing at the door but stealing glances at the two. 

“That would be me.” She gave a friendly smile despite the tense atmosphere. “How may I help you today?” 

“Here to pay for Felicia Russo’s dress. How much do I owe ya?” 

Of all the dresses she’s done in the past week, she could remember Ms.Russo’s dress. Felicia was a gaunt woman and had a love for all things Egyptian royalty, wanted her dress that was black with golden sequins that resembled a pyramid. Ruth was so in love with the idea that she’s been losing sleep just to work on it and it was almost done.

“Eleven dollars.” Her eyes twinkled, glad her hard work was paying off.

He pulled a wad of cash from his breast pocket and counted it, setting the money on the counter instead of her open hand. He glowered and turned to his friend. 

“Come on Paulie.” 

Paulie turned to his friend and her eyes gleamed at the sight of his tie but also at his suit. 

“Sir!” She almost jumped over her table, which made both men visibly tense. “I’m so sorry but I just wanted a better look at your tie!” 

Both men gave her inquisitive looks as she stared, studying the patterns of his maroon tie. 

“Whoever made it did a beautiful job. You have great taste.” 

“Thanks..” Paulie blinked at her, still in shock at the sudden forwardness. “Guess I do.” 

“Yeah whatever, we gotta go!” The thin man grabbed Paulie by the shoulder and he nodded to her as he followed him out the door.

Why did things feel familiar?

[miirshroom]

Elden Ring Drafts 3/3: Wizard of Oz Themes

The "easy" ones to pick out are Ranni as Dorothy/Witch of the West, Seluvis as Scarecrow, Blaidd as Toto/Lion, Iji as Tinman/Lion, Darriwil as Tinman/Toto. "Easy" being relative as this deconstruction of the characters is only easiest to notice because it is the most recent iteration of the Oz crew. See Fia and her 5 Champions for another deconstruction. 

Or, see Marika and her "little dog" Maliketh. Marika the Numen from outside the Lands Between who "fell from a star" just as Dorothy did (more directly, the Elden Beast is stated to have arrived on a golden star). Hoarah Loux carries an axe as the Tinman did, and takes the mantle of a Lion. It is not too wild a leap to guess that he was engaged in hunting Monstrous Crows in the badlands (a Scarer of Crows) before taking off to be Marika's champion.

Deeper review reveals that Marika/Miquella/Trina share quite a few traits with Princess Ozma/Tip. A twister did pick up Farum Azula into the sky, a witch (Chelona) did have a house dropped on her (look up the tortoise myth), and the Flame Chariots would like us to pay no attention to the little man behind the curtain. The gold-stamped brick road extends throughout the Lands Between from Caelid to Leyndell, and the sorcerer crowns have coloured lenses reminiscent of the green-tinted glasses that visitors to the Emerald City were made to wear. 

Also Professor Marvel in the movie is wearing a symbol much like the Elden Ring on his turban. This alone means very little considering how three overlapping rings is a common symbol for trinities in mysticism. But given how strong the Wizard of Oz theme is? Dorothy wasn't the only native of Kansas iesekai-ed to Oz. Radagon = Marika = the Elden Ring = Professor Marvel = the Wizard of Oz.