#wanted to use The Ringer too but couldn't find ones I liked

[juanabaloo]

Fuffy + enemies-to-lovers rich moms AU

(Do Revenge world) After working as a guidance counselor, Buffy is now The Headmaster at a rich private school (Rosehill Country Day). Faith's child has gotten in trouble at Rosehill. They fight about the kid's punishment and have to meet several times.

(inspo)

(I made no gifs. Credits: 1_, 2_, 3_, 4_, 5_, 6_, 7_ )

[asshlyyyy]

Fairytale

Series Warnings: Language, fake relationship, lying, drinking, major depressive disorder, mommy issues. Mentions of occasionally sexula interactions/ wording. Maybe eventual smut. Individual chapter warnings will appear as needed.

Masterlist | Next Part

Chapter 1: Maid of Honor

Message from Jess at 10:23 AM Hey, Y/n! The girls and I are getting together for some brunch today! There's a chair with your name on it! Your response at 10:26 AM God, that sounds amazing! Just that my boyfriend and I already have plans for lunch :( Message from Jess at 10:28 AM That's okay! We have to meet up soon! I miss you girly! Your response at 10:30 AM I miss you too :(

Sometimes you felt bad doing all this lying, but it wasn't like it was harming anyone. You just didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings. Truth was... you couldn't find the motive to leave your house. Sure, it seemed unhealthy not to want to leave your home. However, you honestly just... you couldn't bare it. So, you made up the excuse that you had a boyfriend. But Y/n, don't you have a job? Of course, you had a job. You were just lucky enough to work from home.

You often times blamed it on your major depressive disorder. Now, it has calmed down over the years since you were first diagnosed with it. However, every day it still felt like a chain that kept you home. The only times you left were when your sister forced you out of the house. She couldn't always do that though. She lived in a different state, and honestly, you didn't blame her. California could get a bit crazy. Especially with all of these wannabe influencers. 

With that being said. You used the boyfriend excuse plenty of times. In fact, you pretty much lost count. Now, this is a very normal excuse, especially when you have plans already with them... So, no one would question it. Yet, the only issue was... it was all a lie. You didn't have a boyfriend. Like hell! You couldn't even leave your damn house. How in hell would you get a boyfriend? Exactly, you couldn't.

Four years ago you hit the darkest moment of your life. The lowest of the low, and you kept it to yourself. You only really felt happy with you were with your family members. Four years is how long you've been using that goddamn excuse. You were diagnosed three and a half years ago. You went to your doctor, who sent you to a therapist who gave you the news. You met with them about once a week. So... once a week for three and a half years. That's... four times a month... which is forty-eight times a year... then 144 for three years... Plus twenty-four... that's... you've met with your therapist so far 168 times. 

The major question is... did it help? Yes, for the most part, it did. For the most part, you knew that you had to work on it yourself. Which you have been. Your therapist suggested making a video diary a week. Sitting down and just going over everything that happened that week and how you felt. It was nice, and they held their home on your laptop. You haven't... you haven't reached that sense of content enough to go back and watch them. 

As you stepped out of your shower, you wrapped a towel around your body. You had to make a video diary today, and you knew that you should wait till the end of the day... But the start of the week was Sunday, and so was the end of the week. You always recorded these things on Sundays... it just... it just worked. You grabbed a free towel and started to dry your hair, as the familiar tone of your ringer went off. 

With curiosity in your mind, you made your way over to your bedroom where your phone rested. Flipping it over you heard your sister's name and smiled. You answered the phone and quickly put it on speaker.

"Is that Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo princess and heir to the throne of Genovia?" You teased as you answered the call. You could hear your sister's laugh from the other end. You smiled and pressed forward with drying your hair. 

"Right, Y/n," she continued to laugh, "I have a question for you."

"Hit me," you encouraged her to go on. You looked in the mirror at your messy wet hair and tossed the towel into your bathroom. You'll pick that up once you're off the call. 

"So, as you know I'm getting married in a couple of months. Three months exactly, and this may be last minute... But I have a huge huge huge question." She reminded you. Ah yes, your sister met her fiance Nicholas... yes you heard that right. He may very much be Nicholas Deveraux. You were very much all for Mia and Nicholas ending up together in that movie. 

"Yes, of course, you would never forgive me if I forgot." You reminded her as you started to dig through your drawers. You just needed your comfy sweats and long-sleeved crewneck.

"I wanted to ask... if you could be my maid of honor...?" You gasped lightly and ran to your phone.

"No way! I would love to!" You heard your sister eeeee at your response. You found yourself joining her as you picked up the phone and pressed it against her ear. "I would be honored."

"This is great news, Y/n! Oh my gosh, oh! And bring your boyfriend! Everyone is dying to meet him, and not to mention... Nic would be very honored if he would be his best man." Your mouth gapped open, and your eyes widened. Did you hear that right? Someone wanted your imaginary boyfriend to be their best man?

"B-best man? I-I mean aren't they supposed to be a relative or a friend? Not a complete stranger?" You struggled to get your words out. Well, you struggled in general. You felt your heart just about to stop at any moment.

"Well, Nic and I talked, and we knew you would find a way to excuse your boyfriend from coming... This way, we knew he would feel bad. So, yes... Nic wants your boyfriend as his best man." She explained. This was that moment you were scared of. The moment that would give out you... This was the moment. FUCK.

"Okay yeah... that works... Yeah... When do we have to be there?" You asked. You were honestly hoping she would say a week before the wedding. Because then that would give you plenty of time to find someone to be your fake boyfriend. 

"Well, I want your help during this whole time... And I know you work from home so that's amazing. Maybe in a week or two? Bring your boyfriend as well. We all need to get to know him, and this is the perfect time to do it." With every word that came out of her mouth, the more you felt a weight on your chest. It got harder to breathe and honestly all you wanted to do... was... well... you wanted to disappear.

"R-right well... I will see you then... Bye! Love you!" And you quickly hung up. You placed your phone down and immediately got under your sheets. You pulled them up and over your head and closed your eyes. Think of a better place. A place where you never made the boyfriend excuse. A place where you are happy... Go there... Go there. 

Now, your sister always brought you happiness. She never pushed you or even laid out her troubles on you. Your brother was the same way. Your family was a very caring and loving family. They also respected everyone's privacy. So, when it came to them finding out about your boyfriend... They didn't push. They pushed a few times, but that's because you never even gave them a name. You couldn't even think of a name for your imaginary boyfriend! Maybe it was because you knew this would happen.

Yet, every holiday... they would ask you to bring your boyfriend. You would always decline and say that he couldn't make it due to prior engagements... or that he was simply sick. You never shared anything more about your said boyfriend. Sure, it looked a bit suspicious... but they respected you and you appreciated that. 

After you found yourself, you got out of your bed. You made your bed and moved over to your desk. You sat down with a huff and lifted open your laptop. You pulled open the video recorder and started to record. You picked at your nails and bit at them, a habit you picked up on. It wasn't that it was out of nerves... it was more or less... it was your fidget.

"I received some bad news today... Well, bad for me..." You let out a breath and turned to look into the camera. You never spoke about your 'boyfriend' on a video before. Your therapist was the only one who would see these, so it wasn't like you were showing it to all your friends and family.

"As you know, my sister Mia got engaged a while back and she asked me to be her maid of honor. I was... well... I was honored," you chuckled lightly at your terrible joke. "Which is great news, don't get me wrong... but... she and her fiance, Nic, have decided to have my boyfriend as the best man."

"I never spoke about him before and it's quite literally because he is a lie. I made him up four years ago as an excuse to get out of things. And, I just kept using that excuse over and over again that everyone thinks I have this mysterious boyfriend that I don't like talking about." You started to ramble on.

"I'm supposed to leave in a week or two with my boyfriend to go back home. The only problem is... I have no boyfriend. So, now what? I ask my male friends, whom I have used the very same excuse on. No. It just wouldn't work. I made this excuse up so that I wouldn't have to explain to my friends why I don't want to hang out." You pulled out your phone and started to look through your contacts.

"Mike is gay... and has had the excuse used on him. Liam, John, Cody, some of these guys are just taken. Yet, I have all used the same excuse on. There's just no way I could ring one up and explain to them why I lied to them and all our friends." You paused as your eyes found a name that you haven't spoken to in a long time. 

Austin Butler. You first met him when you first moved to California. He was the absolute kindest man you have ever met. He was actually your neighbor who lived right across the hall. You two haven't spoken in a long time. In fact, over four years ago, so in theory... You have never used the boyfriend excuse on him. Then again... sparking up a conversation with him after so long would be weird... What if he had a girlfriend? He had one when you met him... What makes you think he isn't in that same relationship?

"Austin Butler... he's one I haven't used it on... He's one I haven't talked to in so long... I mean... Hell... I don't even know what happened between us. It wasn't like it was some big falling out. We just got busy, and we stopped texting... stopped calling, and eventually, we stopped hanging out." You started to speak aloud. 

"I moved to California a little over six years ago. I was just twenty-one... I had just gotten a job as a physiological criminal analyst. Which, is a job I still have today. I've talked about it a bit, but... I basically analyze people. See, why they have committed the crimes. I listen to tapes, and I read transcripts. All work is easy to do remotely. If there is a big case, then I have to go in person and meet with them personally. You catch the drift."

"Austin lived right across the hall from me. We met the first day I was moving in, and he offered to help carry my things to my apartment. He is such a nice guy. We got everything inside, we had some water and talked. I learned that he is an actor. We exchanged numbers and he left. We started to text continuously, and eventually, I met his girlfriend Vanessa. She seemed very nice, and honestly... God, she was hot. I may be straight, but I can appreciate a woman when I see one."

"He moved out roughly... a year and a half after we met. We still talked after he met, but without that... running into each other in the halls... we talked less and less as time went on. Till we eventually stopped talking. I thought about texting him a bit afterward, but all thought of that left the door soon after. I don't know, it just wouldn't feel right to text him just because I need him for a favor. It just sounds wrong."

You placed your phone down on the desk and looked out your floor-to-ceiling window. You let out a breath and thought about what you could do. Maybe you could just tell the truth... but that would just mess up your sister's wedding. Your fake boyfriend is supposed to be the best man. If there is no fake boyfriend, then there is no best man. 

"Do you think someone on Tinder would be willing to go along with it?" You asked no one in particular. You knew the chances of that were very slim unless you somehow found the right guy... but you also knew that you were going to have to kiss this said fake boyfriend. So, it had to be someone you knew and were comfortable with, but goddamn you really did not want to both Austin. You turned back towards the camera and smiled softly.

"Besides this whole deal happening just now... my week was fine, and I need to go. I only have so long until I have to figure this out." You said and ended the recording. You titled it the day's date and sent it off to your therapist. You closed the laptop and picked up your phone once more. 

You stood up and pulled up Austin's contact. You took a big gulp and pressed the call button. You placed it against your ear and stood up. You wrapped your arm around yourself and started to walk around the apartment. The pacing was something that... somehow eased you. Yes, quite weird, but you felt that if you kept moving nothing could affect you as much. Not to mention, you felt like curling up in a ball and crying. You didn't even know if Austin still had your number... it is very likely he would've just deleted it and forgotten all about you.

"Y/n?" You heard his voice. You felt your body stiffen. You weren't exactly expecting him to pick up. Let alone remember you!

"Austin... hey."

Mutual Taglist: @darlinboypresley, @emmymaehereeeeee, @venus-haze, @austinstyles

[optimisticallycyn]

Cyn's Turtle FanFics!

I've seen a few of these Masterpost fanfic clips and I feel like this might be easier to find and deal with rather than updating it chapter by chapter so, let's try this out...

Disclaimer: I DON'T own the turtle boys or any of their content. I'm just a fan that makes stupid stories where I get to have fun putting them through the ringer! Enjoy!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Leo Having A Bad Time FanFictions

Welcome Home Brother

Summary:

Something's been feeling... off, to Leo lately. He feels like someone's been watching him even though no one ever seems to be there. But he's sure it's fine.

At least until a Donatello from a universe he's never seen shows up, calling him 'Nardo' and talking about bringing him home.

He's not sure what's going on, but he knows that he needs to get away from this unstable version of his brother before it's too late.

Trigger Warnings: Just adding this here because I’ve had a few people now message me that they can’t continue reading because they weren’t expecting the story to get as dark as it does, so I just thought I’d put this here as an extra bit of warning to further readers. This story is not for everyone, and it gets pretty dark and deals with dark subject matter. You are following the life of someone who is grieving the loss of a loved one and can’t get over it. It has mental, physical, and emotional abuse, gaslighting, manipulation, body mutilation and violation (though not sexually obviously), murder, death, amputations, forced drug use and brain washing, ect. If any of that bothers you, please keep yourself safe and refrain from reading. Thank you!

If I'm Of No Use, Then Why Am I Still Here?

Summary:

Leo couldn't be happier that his brothers are really growing into themselves and expanding their social circles.

He's excited for them in finding new hobbies and interests that take up their time... a lot of their time... pretty much all of it.

It's fine that they're not as interested in training anymore, or running patrols because Karai's Foot Clan is doing very well to keep the streets of New York safe.

It's fine that he's finding himself spending more and more time alone because even April and Casey are moving on and getting ready to go to college and don't really have any time to spare.

He's happy that everyone seems to be moving on.

Even if there doesn't seem to be any room for him in their lives anymore...

Trigger Warnings: Depression, eating disorders, mild self harm, becoming nonverbal, isolation, loneliness, self-worth issues

TMNT 2012 September Challenge

Summary:

(Wish me luck o this one...)

This is a TMNT 2012 September Challenge from Tumblr.

Not all of these will be shipping ones. A lot of them will probably have nothing to do with that. But they will be labeled in the chapters. :)

Caseynardo Multiple Chapter FanFics (Casey Jones / Leonardo for those who don't know 😊)

Unless otherwise stated, all characters are anywhere from their early to late twenties.

Stranger From Another World

Rise Casey Jones Junior / 2012 Leonardo

Warning: This story is rated M! There will be mild scenes of M/M relations! Be aware.

Summary:

When random portals start opening all around New York, Casey and his new family have their hands full dealing with the fallout. However one of the portals doesn't drop a monster from some unknown hellscape, but an almost familiar face that's nothing like the one Casey knows. Intrigued by this stranger Casey can't help but want to be close to him and learn as much as he can, and yes, he's sure these new weird feelings in his stomach and the constant heat in his face has nothing to do with it.

Doll's Don't Talk! (But Apparently They Can Hear!?)

2012 Casey Jones / 2012 Leonardo

Summary:

When Leo accidentally gets blood on the new doll Mikey gave him seconds before Casey stole the thing, he didn't think much of it.

At least... not at first.

Not until he starts to feel this weird pressure like someone's in the room touching him, even if no ones there. Sometimes it's little pets on his head, or an odd sensation across his hand like someone's holding it, sometimes it just feels like he's being... held. Surrounded on all sides in a comfortable heat and weight like he's snuggled under the worlds most comfortable blanket.

He doesn't think much of it until that pressure is joined by a voice. A voice that sounds a little muffled at first but that eventually comes through loud and clear. A very familiar voice.

A voice telling him all kinds of things he's sure he was never supposed to hear.

Mating Season Blues!

2012 Casey Jones / 2012 Leonardo

Summary:

Casey and Leo have been dating for a few months now and Casey couldn't be happier! Leo's a great boyfriend! So sweet and thoughtful and cuddly... Very cuddly. Especially lately. But why does he keep stealing Casey's clothes lately? And why is he constantly biting Casey and hissing at the others when they get to close? And what's his deal with gifting Casey living animals and feeding him by hand? Meh, he's sure it's fine.

Casey and Leo go through their first Spring together and neither are prepared for how strongly Leo's urges to take care of his mate are going to be.

This is a no sex spring story because I just wanted it to be cute and fluffy. :) Enjoy!

Truth or Dare, and other dumb decisions to make while drinking

2012 Casey Jones / 2012 Leonardo

Summary:

Leo's not impressed when he catches his brothers and Casey drinking, but he can't really so no when joining in means he gets to spend the night having fun with his 'secrete' crush. Besides, it's not like he'll even drink that much. Just a cup or two. It'll be fine. After all, no ones ever done something they regret with only a few sips in them right?

Caseynardo One/Two-Shot FanFics

Late Night Blues...

Rise Casey Jones Junior / 2012 Leonardo

Summary:

Casey Jr can't sleep. An unfortunate side effect of living most of his life through an apocalypse. Or maybe a not so unfortunate habit after all when this undesirable trait leads him to finally having a little one on one time with with the Leo from another dimension. He's been dying to speak with him after all. But just because he seems like such a levelheaded and interesting guy... No other reason really.

Or, Rise Casey's awake, 2012 Leo's awake, and Casey stumbles through a basic conversation while trying to keep his thoughts straight...

How To Take Care of Your Stressed Out Boyfriend! By A. Casey Jones!

2012 Casey Jones / 2012 Leonardo

Summary:

None of their missions have been going well lately, which is bad news for the rest of the team because bad missions means a grumpy Leo.

Casey's got it handled though. He knows just the remedy to cheer him up and get him relaxed. Movies, tea, candles and cuddles of course!

Or; Leo's stressed and Casey's done watching his boyfriend spiral and decides to step in.

Facepaint And Fun!

2012 Casey Jones / 2012 Leonardo

Summary:

“Did you want to try it?”

“I’m sorry?”

Shocked by the offer Leo quickly returned his attention to the one at his side. Casey snickered at his reaction, swiping the tube from him all to easily and tossing it from hand to hand.

“If you want, I can paint your face up like mine. Let you see for yerself what it’s like.”

“Oh, um…”

He really shouldn’t. He wasn’t sure why he shouldn’t but…

“Y-Yeah.” …What? “Sure.”

Cavemouth

2012 Casey Jones / Leonardo

Summary:

Leo knows somethings off with his boyfriend when he shows up at the lair during school hours. Before he can ask to much on it though Casey gets recruited to help Donnie with some stuff. He lets it go until Casey storms out after an unusual shouting match with his brother. Wanting to get to the bottom of it, Leo follows after him to find out what's up.

Or;

Some kids at school say some things to Casey that they shouldn't have and now Leo has to comfort his boyfriend while trying to figure out how to make bodies disappear. As one does.

Turtle Pile Plus Four

2012 Casey Jones / Leonardo

Summary:

Leo and Casey are cuddling, his bros decide to join in, then, so do his sisters.

The World In My Hands And All I See Is You

2012 Casey Jones / Leonardo

Summary:

Raph makes fun of the fact that Casey's hands seem much smaller than theirs. Casey points out that he can still do the most important thing. Leo suffers by proxy.

These Bitches Gay, Good For Them (Bad For Me Though Damnit)

Female Casey Jones / Female Leonardo

Summary:

Raph has a crush on his new human friend and can’t wait to introduce her to his brothers and sister. At least until he realizes that there might be a reason none of his flirtations are returned outside of him being a mutant turtle once Cass sets her eyes on his sister Lea.

Set Lasers to Stun

2012 Casey Jones / 2012 Leonardo

Summary:

Leo just wanted to enjoy his Space Heroes marathon in peace. Why is that so hard?

Caller ID: Babe is Calling

2012 Casey Jones / 2012 Leonardo

Summary:

Honestly, Casey should know better than to use such a... suggestive picture for Leo's caller ID.

But its not like he knew his phone was going to fall out of his pocket and end up in the hands of one of his boyfriend's brothers.

If he manages to make it through the night, he's going to owe Leo big for this slip up. He's still keeping all his other pictures though. He'll just hide them better.

Trick Or Treat

2012 Casey Jones / 2012 Leonardo

Summary:

Leo didn't give to much thought to his Halloween costume, figuring the trench coat he'd worn years ago during his vampire hunter phase was good enough. When Casey pouts over it however he decides to try another, equally last minute costume, but one he think his secret boyfriend will enjoy much more. Casey on the other hand very much knows his costumes going to be a big hit. At least, for Leo it will be.

Limited Addition Kitchen Princess

2012 Casey Jones / 2012 Leonardo

Summary:

“I’m pretty sure if you help me, it will be against the rules.” “So that’s what this is hm? You lost a bet to Mikey?” Deciding that Casey had been with them long enough it wasn’t surprising that he managed to figure it out that fast, Leo met his smirk with a flat stare. “No. I just thought I’d try out a new wardrobe.” Casey snickered at his sass, putting the hand towel back before joining his side at the island. “You should stick with it. It’s a good look for ya Blue.”

Or, Leo loses a bet which leaves him to be the one on cooking duty for the night, in the girlest apron Mikey could find. Casey's not complaining on the new look and is quick to insert himself in the role of helping out to make sure he doesn't burn the whole lair down.

[clonerightsenthusiast]

Ringer

[X-Men Comics, Gen, 4.5k words]

It was really Bobby's fault, they'd all decided (except Scott, who stoically shouldered all the blame himself, as usual). Bobby thought that if they were gonna blame him, then really it was the professor's fault for having the horseshoes where he could find them in the first place. And for leaving them unsupervised for the weekend. Was it Bobby's fault he was bored and curious?

(Yes, apparently. Whatever.)

"So it's a… game?" Scott asked skeptically, watching Bobby finish setting up the stakes outside the mansion.

"Yeah, you just throw it, dude," Bobby said, tossing a horseshoe to demonstrate.

Scott's forehead creased. "And the objective is to hook the horseshoe onto the stake?"

"Uh huh." Bobby twirled his last horseshoe on his finger. "You get points based on how close to it you get. I think. I've mostly just watched my dad play it at barbecues and stuff."

Scott hummed thoughtfully. Bobby held out the horseshoe. "It's a game for old people, so you'll probably love it," he joked.

"Very funny, Bobby," Scott said scathingly, but he took the horseshoe. He cocked his head, giving the stake a long, considering look, then tossed it.

[read on ao3]

It landed several feet short. Scott hrmed. Bobby couldn't tell if he was mad at himself for not hitting the stake immediately or just thinking too hard. Knowing Scott, he reasoned, probably both.

"Hand me another one," Scott ordered, sticking out his hand. Oh, that was his field leader voice. He was getting serious. Bobby rolled his eyes but complied.

Scott gave the stake another measured look and tossed the horseshoe. Short again.

Bobby threw the last one. It bounced off the stake and landed a few inches away. Scott gave him such an affronted look that Bobby burst out laughing.

"Sorry, Slim," he said when he got his breath back, still snickering. "Some of us are just naturally talented."

Scott harrumphed and set off in a determined stride to collect the horseshoes.

"Just keep practicing," Bobby called after him. "Maybe some day you'll get on my level."

"It's just geometry and physics," Scott said, taking his place at the first stake again. "I'm good at geometry and physics."

"Sure, suck the joy out of it," Bobby said, elbowing him until he reluctantly gave up half the horseshoes. Scott didn't seem liable to budge, so Bobby trudged over to take the other side.

"The joy comes from figuring out how it works and executing a successful strategy," Scott corrected him, eyeing the stake again.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Scott. I say the joy comes from kicking your butt at something for once."

Bobby won the next game, and frankly, that was enough horseshoes for him - especially when Scott was getting visibly frustrated. He handed over the whole lot of the horseshoes and said, "You keep playing if you want. I think I've proven my superiority here."

"You've proven that you have more practice at the game," Scott said stubbornly.

Bobby snickered and waved him off to go back inside the mansion, leaving Scott to keep up his attempts to hit the ring solo.

Inside the kitchen, he found Warren poking at a bowl of half-melted ice cream with one hand and reading a book with the other. Bobby promptly flopped over his shoulder, getting a facefull of feathers for his trouble but successfully stealing a bite of ice cream in the confusion.

"Get your own, you pest," Warren said without any real heat, hunkering over the bowl. His wings lifted defensively.

"Guess what I just did," Bobby said, ignoring him to reach around and get a finger on the side of the bowl. With a little concentration, frost spread out from the point of contact across the bowl and the ice cream inside refroze. Warren begrudgingly lowered his shoulder to give him another bite in exchange for services rendered.

"What," he said flatly, elbowing Bobby until he slid off of him and onto the stool beside.

"I got Scott to play a game," he said archly. "He's outside being, like, really intense about horseshoes."

"Horseshoes barely counts as a game," Warren scoffed. "You just stand there and throw them."

"Barely is still a game," Bobby said, reaching out for the ice cream again. Warren slid it out of his reach. "This is just the first step. Next is some other grandpa game like croquet or whatever. Then we work up to stuff like Frisbee. In a few months maybe he'll even play monopoly. Hey, is there more?"

There was, indeed, more ice cream, and all thoughts of Scott and horseshoes quickly faded in its favor.

–

Scott tossed the horseshoe a couple times in his hand, feeling the weight of it. It was an odd shape. Naturally; that was what made the game what it was. Finding the proper grip on it was a process. 

He held it lightly, tossing it with a flick of his wrist. The horseshoe spun off sideways, landing some feet away from the stake next to its fellows.

Scott's feet moved on their own, mechanically carrying him over to the pile of horseshoes to recollect them. His mind was occupied, considering the mechanics of that throw. Too much torque, clearly. He was throwing too much with the wrist. Maybe if he kept his wrist straight and instead rotated more at the elbow…

He would get this. There was no doubt in his mind as he took his place at the line again. He would figure this out. It was only a matter of time.

–

"Has anyone seen Scott?" Jean asked, levitating a slice of pizza out of Hank's reach. "I tried to tell him the pizza was here but he didn't answer."

Hank planted one giant hand on Warren's face and shoved him back long enough to snatch his own slice. "Scott understands the consequences of being tardy to pizza night," he said, fending off Bobby with his other elbow.

"He's never been 'tardy' in his life," Warren said, shoving Hank's hand aside with a pointed glare. "It's good for him."

"Maybe he's still playing horseshoes," Bobby joked through a mouthful of pizza, squirming into the narrow space on the couch between Hank and Warren. "Or he got kidnapped by Magneto."

"Ugh, don't even mention Magneto," Warren groaned, begrudgingly shifting over to make room. "We're on vacation."

"If only the enemies of mutantkind likewise went 'on vacation'," Hank teased. "Maybe we could work out a schedule."

"Bobby, what do you mean, playing horseshoes?" Jean asked, settling herself on the arm of the couch.

"I found stakes and horseshoes in the garage under a bunch of tarps and stuff," Bobby said. "Scott was playing it earlier. But that was, like, hours ago. He's probably just reading one of the professor's old man books and didn't notice you calling."

"It's not an old man book just because it doesn't have pictures, Bob," Warren said, smirking as Bobby stuck his tongue out at him.

"Scott's a big boy, Jeannie," Hank said, patting her arm. "He'll come in when he gets hungry. Although," he added, eyes lighting up in inspiration, "perhaps we could entice him with the siren sounds of a motion picture?"

"Only if it's one of the professor's old movies from back before the dawn of time," Warren snarked.

"We are not watching a black and white movie!" Bobby squawked, popping up straight-backed with an expression of pure affront.

"A film's quality isn't determined by its use of color photography, Robert," Hank said, looking down at him over his glasses.

"Uh, yes it is," Bobby shot back.

"You boys argue about this," Jean said, hopping down from the arm of the couch. "I'll go make popcorn. You better make a decision by the time I get back, or I get to pick the movie."

That set off a new wave of arguing, and Scott was quickly forgotten.

–

Thunk.

The horseshoe hit the stake solidly and bounced off, skipping along the grass once before coming to rest. Scott hummed, weighing the last horseshoe in his hand. Shoulder. Elbow. Wrist. His grip, the placement of his fingers along the groove of the horseshoe. His hips and feet, the bend in his knees… there were so many variables that went into a throw even before it left his hand. The wind, the angle of the stake, how hard the ground was - these also affected his outcomes, but he couldn't control those. 

Distinguishing between what was in and out of his control was a vital skill as field leader, and one of the first things Scott determined in every situation he walked into. He couldn't change the weather (wouldn't that be something, having a mutant power to change the weather!) but he could control himself, break each throw down into its component elements and through trial and error and intuition determine the ideal state of each one to achieve his goal. Make a plan, and then put it into action. There was nothing more satisfying than successfully executing a plan.

The light faded around him but it barely registered to Scott. The night was clear and the moon was bright enough that he could make out the stake and collect the horseshoes - and by now he was certain he could hit the stake with his eyes closed. It was just another variable to account for. And he could account for it. He would. 

Thunk.

Scott's heart skipped a beat as the horseshoe hit the stake and rattled around it before bouncing off to hit the ground close by. That was the sound of progress. He almost had it.

He just had to keep going.

–

Jean slept in, a rare luxury born of the professor's absence. She woke to bright sunlight filtering through her gauzy curtains, and took her time stretching and basking in the warmth and joy of one last day of no responsibilities before finally sliding out of bed to get dressed and see what the boys were up to.

Warren and Hank were both in the kitchen, divvying up the newspaper. Hank called a garbled greeting around the pencil in his mouth as he set to the crossword. Jean hummed pleasantly in response as she opened the fridge to retrieve the milk, using her telekinesis to get the pantry at the same time.

The box of cereal abruptly dropped to the counter as she got distracted, frowning at the contents of the fridge. The last slice of pizza she'd jealously guarded from the boys and set away for Scott last night was still there. She leaned back and half-closed the door again and sure enough the note in her own neat handwriting letting him know was still stuck to it.

"All right, Jeannie?" Warren's voice prompted her to grab the milk and let the fridge close properly, shaking her head.

"Yes, just – is Scott up yet?" Jean asked, picking up the cereal again with her telekinesis to shake some into a bowl while she poured the milk. She brought it over to the table where the boys were sitting, and Warren graciously pulled out a chair for her.

She knew him well enough to catch the disappointment that flashed across his face as she asked about Scott, but didn't say anything; she didn't want to encourage their silly rivalry. Warren, to his credit, gave no hint of it as he replied.

"I saw him this morning when I went out for an early flight," he said. "He was out there by himself playing horseshoes. Didn't even look up when I buzzed him." He did sound disappointed by that, and Jean snorted into her cornflakes. Boys.

Hank glanced up from the crossword, adjusting his glasses. "Pardon me, Warren – did you say you saw Scott playing horseshoes early this morning?"

"Sure did, Hank," Warren said. "Why, what's all the interest in Scott this morning?"

"It's only that when I went out to retrieve the morning's paper – hardly ten minutes ago – he was out on the lawn, tossing horseshoes, as you say," Hank said. "I'm merely surprised such a simple game has captivated our fearless leader for so long. It seems rather below a strategic mind of his caliber."

Warren whistled. "That's what, a couple hours straight of horseshoes? He must be going stir-crazy without the professor giving him X-Men duties. I was wondering why he hasn't bullied us into the Danger Room all weekend."

"Be nice," Jean admonished him, elbowing his side. "It's good that he's having fun."

"Personally, I'm glad he's found a way to have fun that doesn't involve shooting at me with eye blasts," Warren said with a smirk. "But I bet you and I could come up with something way more fun to do than horseshoes."

Jean smiled at him beatifically. "That sounds like a great idea, Warren," she said blithely. "You go get Bobby, and I'll pick a board game."

Warren looked pained for just a second before manfully accepting that he'd blundered into a trap of his own making and accepting his fate. "Sounds great, Jeannie," he said, getting up from the table and tucking his section of the paper under one arm. "You coming, Hankster?"

"Give me just a moment to complete today's puzzle and I'll gladly join you," Hank said, and Warren waved in acknowledgment and slouched off to find Bobby, hands slung in his pockets. Hank turned an admonishing eye on Jean. "That was mean of you," he said.

"Oh, he asked for it, and you know it," she said, snickering. Jean tipped her bowl back to slurp the last of the milk and stood up, wiping her mouth. "I'll see you in the living room. Bring Scott if he comes in."

"Naturally," Hank said, bending back to his crossword. "I'll only be a moment."

–

The horseshoe sliced through the air and dropped in a neat arc over the top of the stake, clanking against the others sitting at its base. Mechanically, Scott pulled his arm back, transferred the next horseshoe to his throwing arm, reset his stance, and tossed it.

It followed the same path through the air and hooked itself on the stake, sliding down to rest on the small pile of its fellows. A satisfied smile broke through Scott's focused expression as he walked the well-trodden path from the line to the stake and back again, laden once again with horseshoes. He barely had to think about it anymore; he'd done it, he'd solved it, and now it was just throw, retrieve, repeat, in smooth, soothing, repetitive motions, with the bonus satisfaction of seeing each throw land exactly where he wanted it to.

He could do this forever.

–

"HaHA! Take that, Harvard boy!" Bobby crowed, leaping to his feet. "Who's the businessman now?"

Warren groaned and tipped back against the couch in defeat. "You know I haven't actually gone to Harvard," he grumbled. "And Monopoly is hardly a test of real business acumen."

"Oh, don't break out the big words just because you lost," Bobby said, jabbing a finger at him, still grinning.

"It's not a big word just because you don't know what it means, Bob," Warren said, swatting his finger out of his face.

"Oh, don't be a sore loser, Warren," Jean piped up. She and Hank, long since eliminated from the game, had curled up instead in the armchairs to heckle the both of them.

"Go easy on him, Jeannie," Hank said, affecting a serious expression while barely suppressing a laugh. "Bankruptcy is a new experience for him."

"Yeah, and being rich is a new one for me!" Bobby said, tossing handfuls of flimsy paper money in the air.

"Yes, we can tell," Warren said dryly.

"Okay, okay," Jean broke in before Bobby could get out whatever affronted response bubbled up, covering her mouth with one hand to hide her snickering. "Good job, Bobby, you won fair and square."

"Thank you, Jean," Bobby said, sticking his tongue out at Warren. 

Warren tossed his top hat token at him, bouncing it off his forehead. "All right, enough Monopoly," he said before Bobby could respond. His wings shot out at awkward angles as he levered himself to his feet, sweeping dice and money off the coffee table. "There's no getting those hours of our lives back. Let's clean up this mess and find something more worthwhile to do with our time."

Jean made eye contact with Hank before rolling her eyes, provoking snickers from him as they both got up to help pack away the game.

"You just hate when I win anything," Bobby said, elbowing Warren.

"New experiences are always difficult," Warren said smoothly. He caught a sputtering Bobby in a headlock and dug the knuckles of his free hand into his scalp for a few seconds before releasing him. "There, there's your victory noogie, mister winner," he said.

"All I ask is acknowledgement," Bobby sniffed, dropping onto his stomach to fish out the money that had found its way under the couch. "Where's Scott? I want him to witness my victory."

"Maybe he's still playing horseshoes," Warren said, reaching out to accept the tokens from Hank and drop them in the box. "I take back what I said about having more fun than him."

"Oh come on, he's not still playing horseshoes," Bobby said. "It's been a whole day."

"What? No, I mean since this morning," Warren said, giving him a strange look.

"He went back out this morning? He must really like horseshoes," Bobby said, flopping down on the couch.

Jean checked her watch. "It's been hours," she said. "He must have come in. Hank, did you see him come in while we were in here?"

"No, I can't say I did, Jeannie," Hank said.

Jean frowned and looked over her shoulder at the foyer. "I'll just…" she trailed off as she got up and headed for the door.

The boys exchanged glances before Warren shut the Monopoly box and they all got up to follow her.

Jean propped herself up against the threshold of the big front door, watching Scott on the lawn. He threw a horseshoe, neatly hooking it over the stake in front of him. Two more followed in quick succession. Scott threw his whole complement of horseshoes, then marched up to the stake, picked them up, and started all over again.

"Wow, he got really good at that."

Bobby's voice made her jump. She looked over her shoulder to see the other three boys coming up behind her. Jean looked at them, then back at Scott, who seemed perfectly oblivious to being watched. She squinted, taking in his practiced, mechanical movements, and the way he swayed slightly when he stopped by the near stake.

"Did anybody see him come in last night?" she asked, biting her thumbnail.

The boys muttered, conferring with each other, and the consensus was reached that no, nobody had. Making up her mind, Jean planted a hand on Bobby's shoulder and shoved him forward.

"Go ask him how long he's been playing," she ordered him.

"What?" Bobby squawked. "Why me?"

"Just do it, Bob," Warren said.

Outnumbered, Bobby shot them a mutinous look before tromping off across the lawn towards Scott.

Scott didn't respond as Bobby approached, and Bobby took the opportunity to look him up and down. Okay, so maybe he did look a little tired. And there was a muddy line through the grass between the stakes that definitely hadn't been there when he set them up yesterday. So maybe Jean had a point.

Bobby cleared his throat. "Hey, Scotty," he said from a safe distance. Not that there was a particularly safe distance to surprise Scott Summers from.

Scott's head snapped up sharply at the sound of his voice and fixed on Bobby. He couldn't see his eyes behind his glasses, but he could imagine Scott's focus shifting.

"Hi, Bobby," Scott said, then cleared his throat when it came out hoarse.

"So, uh," Bobby said, scuffing the grass with the toe of his shoe. "You like horseshoes, huh?"

"Huh? Oh." Scott looked down at the horseshoes in his hand. "Yeah, it's really satisfying."

"I guess you took me kicking your butt pretty seriously, huh?" Bobby joked. When Scott gave him a blank look, he cleared his own throat and asked, "How long have you been out here practicing?"

"Oh. Since we played, I guess," Scott said.

Bobby stared at him.

Scott looked back.

"Cool." Bobby said. "Uh. Be right back." He turned and fled back to the others, waiting anxiously in the doorway.

"Well?" Hank asked as he skidded to a stop, peering at him from around Warren's wings and over Jean's shoulder.

"He's lost it," Bobby blurted out. "He's been playing since yesterday. Like, straight. That's, like. More than twenty four hours! What time is it?" He grabbed Warren's wrist to check his watch. "Twenty seven hours! Twenty seven hours of horseshoes! We're gonna be in so much trouble. We have to tell the professor we broke Scott!"

"Bobby, calm down," Jean said firmly. She planted both hands on Bobby's shoulders. "We didn't break Scott."

"Besides, it's not a we. You got him playing," Warren said. "This is your fault."

"I hate to say it, Robert, but he has a point," Hank said.

"Hey!" Bobby protested.

"Boys," Jean snapped. "It doesn't matter whose fault it is. What matters is that we snap Scott out of it before the professor comes back tomorrow. So. Bobby." She used her grip on his shoulders to turn him around so he was facing the lawn again. "Go pull out the stakes."

"What?" Bobby yelped. "I can't do that!"

"Sure you can," she said encouragingly. "Just yank them out."

"Why me?" he complained. "What if he blasts me?"

"He's not gonna blast you," Jean said. "And you have to do it because you started it."

"Jean."

"Bobby. Go." With a firm push to his shoulders, Jean sent him stumbling once again back towards Scott.

Bobby trudged back over, shoulders hunched and grumbling to himself under his breath the whole way.

"Okay, Scott," he said, walking past him to the target stake. His shoulder itched where he could tell Scott was staring at him. "Game's over. This is for your own good, so don't blast me, got it?" Bobby tried to sound authoritative, and then realized he was doing an impression of Scott, and quickly changed tack. "Jean says you can't play anymore, and you should probably, like, sleep, dude," he said.

"Hey, what're–" Scott started to say as Bobby grabbed the stake. He made a strangled noise as Bobby ignored him and yanked it out of the ground, slinging it over his shoulder.

"Scott, you've been playing for twenty seven hours, dude," Bobby said, pointing the stake at him. "Pack it in."

Scott stopped short, cocking his head. Does not compute. Recalculating, Bobby thought hysterically, resisting the urge to laugh at him.

"Has it really been that long?" Scott finally asked, a little sheepishly.

"Yeah, Scotty," Bobby said. "And if the professor finds out we let you do that he's gonna be pissed at us, so go sleep it off before the rest of us get in trouble."

Scott huffed and shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose right below his glasses. "Sure. Yeah, Bobby, okay, let's go inside."

Bobby's shoulders slumped in relief. "Great. C'mon." He slung an arm around Scott's shoulders and steered him towards the door where the rest of the team waited.

–

It was like Bobby had broken a spell, and all at once Scott found himself exhausted, sore, starving, thirsty, and in desperate need of the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later found him perched on a stool at the counter, trying to eat a cold slice of pizza like a human being and not a rabid monster. He raised it slowly with his right arm and winced as the sore muscles screamed at him. He shifted uncomfortably and swapped it to the other hand.

A second later, a blessed cold landed on his upper arm, and Scott glanced sideways to see Bobby pressing an icy hand to his bicep. The corner of his lips twitched upwards into a grateful smile and Bobby smiled sheepishly back.

"So," Warren said, breaking the awkward silence and forcing Scott to acknowledge the rest of his teammates standing around and staring at him. His shoulders hunched self-consciously. "I think I speak for all of us when I say: what the hell, Scott?"

Scott cleared his throat. "I, uh. I guess I just didn't notice how long I'd been out there." It sounded lame, even though it was true. He'd known, abstractly, that he'd been at it for a while. It just hadn't registered as worthy of his attention when he had horseshoes to throw. 

"Right. Well," Jean said. "The professor doesn't get back till tomorrow morning, so you can get plenty of sleep tonight and it'll be like nothing happened."

"Okay," Scott said. He didn't know what else to say. He kind of wanted to curl up into a ball until he was so small his friends couldn't see him so they'd stop looking at him.

Jean, bless her, flapped her hands at Warren and Hank, both on the same side of the counter as her, ushering them away. "Okay, okay, let him eat," she said. "Go turn the TV on. We have one more night of doing nothing left. See you tomorrow, Scott."

Hank and Warren let themselves be herded, calling their own goodnights back to Scott as they left the kitchen. Scott waved as they left, then glanced back at Bobby and took another bite of pizza.

"So, uh," Bobby said. "I guess we can say you probably win the next match. You definitely have more practice than me now."

Scott huffed again. "I think I should probably stay away from horseshoes from now on," he said ruefully. "We can chalk this up as a learning experience and move on."

"That's fair," Bobby said. "Eternal draw, then?"

A smile crept over Scott's face and he ducked his head. "Sure. Eternal draw." A huge yawn split his face and he shook his head. "Okay, okay, I should go to bed. See you tomorrow, Bobby."

"G'night, Scotty," Bobby chirped, taking his hand back and heading off after the other three.

Scott shoved the last of the pizza in his mouth and dug his fingers into his sore muscles, filling up a glass of water to take with him upstairs. He wondered what he would say if the professor asked him what he did with his weekend. Training, sir, he imagined himself saying. He had, after all, proved the point he'd set out to prove: repetition and practice were enough to master any skill. Even if he wouldn't be repeating this particular experiment any time soon. Or probably ever.

Professor Xavier probably wouldn't even question him. He didn't need to know the exact form the training took. It would be their little secret, the five of them. Scott muffled his private smile in his shirt and trudged up the stairs to bed, the sounds of his teammates bickering and shushing each other floating up after him.

[commander-rahrah]

Only for him - Gale x GN!Reader

Pairing: Gale x GN!Reader Word Count: ~ 530 Warnings/Tags: act 2 spoilers, angst, hurt, talk of death and blood, eventually happyish?, no use of y/n, some in game dialogue Setting: Act 2, Ilithid Colony under Moonrise Towers

archiveofourown: here

masterlist: here

I've been flipping back in forth between my fics, while also finishing up my most recent playthrough of my fighter Tav x Gale romance save. And I couldn't help but want to make more of an angsty/hurt version of the conversation you have with him when you convince Gale to not blow himself the eff up in Moonrise Towers.

For the purposes of this tiny little ficlit, Tav/Reader is a melee tank (fighter, paladin, etc.) Folk Hero who has been through the ringer, lost many people and is just very... very tired. And has been waiting to get their own happy ending for so long that they thought it would never happen.

Anyways, I have enough on my plate with my two fics so I'm not committing to anything but I really enjoyed fleshing out this little headcannon dream I had while playing my newest playthrough. And I think Gale deserves all the love too! Thank you for reading, and if you liked it let a girl know!

`✵•.¸,✵°✵.｡.✰ ✰.｡.✵°✵,¸.•✵´`✵•.¸,✵°✵.｡.✰ ✰.｡.✵°✵,¸.•✵´

"This is it. I must do as Mystra commands." Gale took a steadying breath, his brown eyes looking anywhere but you. He had them focused ahead, on the monstrosity that was the so-called Absolute.

His leather boot took one step forward, but his movement halted as you stepped in front of him. Your heart was aching, a real physical pain cracking through it. "Gale, you cannot do this. Please, don't do this." You begged, your armored hand wrapped around his bound forearm.

You watched his throat bob as he swallowed thickly, "What choice do I have? More than just a goddess counts on my courage: whole worlds hang in the balance." His dark eyes looked at you sadly, anguish etching the features of his face as his wrist turned so he could hold back onto you. His fingers trembling like it would be his last touch.

Your lips quivered as you stepped closer to him. Even in this dank, evil abyss under the Tower you breathed in his familiar, warm scent. "I have spent my entire life fighting and bleeding. All I have known is death. I have stared it down on my knees, shattered and broken - even if it never came to take me, it took everyone else. And I was… so tired, so ready to give up." Tears were welling in your eyes, emotion crawling up your throat until your words choked out of you. "But then I met you. And all of it, every screaming muscle as I swung my blade, every aching bone as I took another hit, every drop of blood, every scream and tear shed... all of it was worth it. Because it led to you."

Tears were streaming down both of your cheeks now, leaving lines of clean skin as it cut through the dust and dirt and blood that stained your face. "Please, Gale - my love. Don't do this. We have time. We can have time." You grabbed either side of his face, his brown eyes softening as you tipped your forehead onto his. Your voice was a whisper, "I choose you, Gale. Not the wizard, not the sacrifice or Goddess' pawn. The man I love. Choose me back. The one who loves you. We can find another way together. I love you."

"I love you too. Much more than myself. More even than Mystra. Whether I condemn this world or not: I choose you." He nodded, his forehead still pressed tightly to yours as he pressed his lips softly to yours.

It was not the time nor place for such gentle acts of love. Not with an abomination around the corner, not with an undying man waiting to unleash his evil machinations on the world so close by. But you could not help yourself, not when it came to Gale. You pressed your lips harder to his for just a moment longer, memorizing the feeling and taste of him before you pulled away.

The pair of you nodded at each other breathlessly, eyes shifting with determination.

You would draw your sword and hold up your shield again. You would fight another day. Fight for another lifetime. You would stare down and ward off death once again. If only for him. Only for him.

[goldenteaset]

Yeah, we're never recovering from the "easy, breezy, beautiful boy about town" thing, ever

Especially considering he talked normally about all the other Eternals! Like, you could've just mentioned that you're the CA master and everyone would've gotten it, why are you like this -

And aah, I see. Yeah, that's. That scene was very. I definitely feel you there. It definitely had me believing that those two used to hook up on the side or something, so she took his betrayal extra personally, but that's my own headcanon

Hosoyan and Suwabe can both be so dangerous if they want to, it's honestly unfair

Do you have any favorite lines from Versus? Belial is so beautifully unhinged in that game too

Seofon really went "I need to show everyone's good side!" and then followed that up with "Me, though? An ~*~alluring proposal~*~". (And then it totally worked, confound this man! XD)

Right? And I mean. I'm tempted to call it a headcanon too, but it was so Michael specific and he did it in the prologue as well. The only catch is that he's used that voice with other characters too (mostly women). It worked so effectively I went into "Oh I only like him with Djeeta, not me/an OC" mode for years because I couldn't admit it. ANYWAY. XD;

Oh yes, I have so many favorites!! Off the top of my head:

"What do we call this beast who bears my devilish good looks? A dead ringer." (This one is more for the pun)

"As much as I'd love to welcome an ingenue into the world of sensual delight... you'll have to wait your turn. A lot of people have come calling today." (Self-explanatory ///;)

"Uh-unh-uh. You'll never find me. No matter how many worlds you collapse." (Got a whole AU series out of this one)

"Oh, Bubs. All these dark plans, I can only handle so much." (Somehow when he's pulling Bubs' chain it's instant comedy gold)

"C'mon, show me a smile." (*Instinctively hides face while giggling*)

Oh!! I had to hunt down and transcribe this one, since it's not on the wiki yet: "It's been awhile, so let's talk before getting hot and heavy. Watch the stars, be kissed by the breeze... Make this time special. We used to be so rough. Impatient. But if we knew one another better, we might engender...tenderness." (*garbled infatuated noises*)

These + the partner lines are one of the many reasons I had to make an OC! Rightfully, none of the cast believes him when he says these things, but someone should...

[cyandreamsinwords]

Cut and Run — Pt 1 (BoaWT AU)

Is it weird to have AU's of your own fanfic AU...possibly, but after seeing another create post their own for their fic, I decided it might be fun to do so myself.

None of this is cannon to Burning of a Withered Tree, obviously, but because I plan to put them through the ringer with the main fic and drag it out, I'm going to indulge in a happier story line for a bit. it's like a treat, just for me! (1.4K)

Link to the main fic here

Pt 2

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

Sirius didn’t allow himself a moment to celebrate. Not when he felt the wind on his face for the first time in years, or experienced the vastness of the open forest he'd ran to around him. He could commiserate in all of that later. There wasn't time now.

It had been said in passing, the singular sentence that spurred him to action: “Perhaps your mother will do better with your daughter then she did you.”

Scoffed by one of the guards, the rare ones they allowed to walk the halls between the dementors, just to check to make sure everything was in order and in its place. He'd known Sirius from their mother's having been friends, though they themselves never getting on. He couldn't even recall his name, but he was positive it'd been something ridiculous. Stupid-name-forgettable-loser, having found his current predicament humorous, thought he'd rub a bit of salt in the wound.

"Perhaps your mother will do better with your daughter then she did you. Or maybe she'll screw her up too, who knows."

All he managed to do was force Sirius' hand. The visceral and instantaneous feeling of panic at the thought that Lyra was there, in that house, with his mother -- there was no choice, he had to get to her. Before any damage could be done, and she was forced to go through the years of pain he'd gone through.

He didn't remember much of how he got back to 12 Grimmauld Place, but somehow he'd managed to get there without being stopped or spotted.

It was just past one in the morning when he arrived. The street was empty, and all the lights in the place were off.

At some point he acquired a wand, and used it to get inside. He was silent, knowing that while he could fight his mother and Kreature off if need be, he wanted to make this as smooth as possible. In and out with Lyra before anyone was the wiser.

He checked his old room first. That's where his mother would no doubt put her. And sure enough, the signs of a small child were evident here. His once teenage bedroom had been converted into softer, frillier decor, but only enough to cover the immovable evidence of him (the large portraits of respectable ladies hung over his girls on motorcycle posters had been a clever touch).

But there was no little girl in the bed.

Sirius was confused. It was night, and she obviously did live here. So where was she?

Just as careful as when he entered, he scanned the house up and down. And no sign of his daughter. He nearly woke Kreature at one point, sleeping in his little nook, but was quick to sedate him.

She wasn't here. He looked up and down, becoming more and more desperate with every second, but there was no sign of her. Had the guard just said that to get a ruse out of him? Had his eyes been playing tricks on him upstairs?

It was nearly two now, and by this point, he knew his daughter wasn't in the house.

He let himself out the back this time, resisting the urge to slam the door shut. He cursed wildly in frustration for having come so far and still find nothing. He was losing precious time, time he needed to take his daughter and find somewhere safe to hide where the dementors couldn't find him.

Coming down off the back step, he tripped on something, landing in the grass with a thud.

And when he looked up, it was into big grey eyes just like his own.

For a good long minute, the two of them just sat there, staring at one another. Him in disbelief and her in shock and fear.

"...Lyra?"

The little girl, with long dark curls and wide eyes gave him no indication, but he hardly needed one. He knew his little girl. So different than when he'd left that night, now three years old, and so so different.

He began to stand and started to walk toward her. "Lyra!"

She scrambled back, frightened. His heart dropped, and try as he might, he couldn't stop the disappointment at her reaction. He understood it--a strange man still dressed in his jail rags showing up in the middle of the night, calling her by name--but it was just a reminder of the years he'd missed.

"Hey, it's okay," he soothed her, holding himself back from scooping her up into his arms and running for the hills. He lowered himself back down to his knees, to look smaller, less threatening. "I know you don't know me, but--"

"I know who you are."

A voice. When he last saw her, she hadn't been speaking yet, just babbling, learning from watching how to form words. She'd been just getting da-da down. Now she could speak real words, knew how to string sentences together.

"You do?" His heart was racing.

"You're my father." Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself.

"I am," he confirmed, feeling a tremble in his lip. "What are you doing out here Lyra? You should be inside in bed."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Grandmother said I had to learn a lesson, and I'm not allowed back in until I do."

Sirius had spent most of his life hating his mother, but in that moment he could go back in and strangle her in her as she slept. She'd been bad when he was growing up, but to lock a three year old outside, over night no less--it was unforgivable.

"Is that why you're here?" her voice shook. "Because I've been bad? Are you here to take me to where you went?"

"No," he whispered softly, shaking his head, not wanting to imagine Lyra there in that place. "No, you've been perfect, Lyra. I'm sure of it."

"Then why are you here? Grandmother says you were bad, that's why they took you and locked you away. Because you didn't listen."

Sirius snorted. "Well, have you met your grandmother? She's pretty bad herself. Wouldn't you agree?"

Lyra said nothing, just shyly wrapped her arms tighter around herself.

He held his arms out, ignoring the nervous shake in them. "Come here. You must be freezing."

There was some hesitation, a long terrifying moment that she simply eyed him up, like she thought he'd suddenly turn on her, before she began to inch closer, coming just far enough within reach to allow him to wrap his arms around her.

For the first time in over two years, he got to hold his daughter in his arms. This was the moment he waited for, when he finally allowed himself to acknowledge the fact that he was out, he'd escaped. He didn't want to spook her with his sudden sobs, just buried his face into her long, tangled hair. When she relaxed into his arms, resting her head against his shoulder, the way she used to when she was small and fresh to the world, a choked sob escaped him, and he began to cry in earnest.

"Why are you crying?" she asked him, pulling back.

"I just missed you so much, Mini Moon," he sniffled, trying to put on a brave smile. "So, so much."

One of her little hands wiped at the track of tears along his cheek. "And that's why you're crying?"

He wiped the other side away. "Yeah. But it's okay, because we're together again." He brushed the curls from her face. "I'm going to take you with me, okay? We're going to go live together somewhere safe, far from here. Does that sound good to you?"

"Kreature is supposed to let me inside in the morning though."

"I'll send him an owl letting him know what's going on," he lied to put her mind at ease. "He'll understand, you're supposed to be with me, not her. I'm your dad."

She frowned worriedly. "But are they going to take you away again? The people who did the first time?"

He shook his head, a sense of determination coming down on him. "No, never again. There's nothing that's ever going to take me away from you again. It'll be just me and you, Mini Moon."

Looking back toward the house, she thought for just a moment. "...okay. We can go then."

He stood, his little girl wrapped in his weak and malnourished arms. "Let's go then. We're going to go somewhere safe, and then I've got to go and pick up your godbrother, okay?"

[sweetpea-tiana]

( quinta brunson, 35, cisfemale, she/her ) ☼ i know it’s a small town, but i run into TIANA IYENGAR every time i go to ADVENTURER’S GUILD. it’s like they practically live there and not PELICAN TOWN for ONE YEAR. it must be because they’re BUBBLY and NOSY. come to think of it, that’s probably why they’re an SPA OWNER/FREELANCE MONSTER SLAYER too. but i did hear they want to BETTER THE HEALTH/WELLNESS OF THE COMMUNITY, and sometimes they like to WATCH TV/MOVIES. rumor has it they also like SWEET PEA, but dislike JOJA COLA. what do you think? + laura, 28, she/her, est.

Silence. Peace. Serenity. Had tried to associate any of these words with little Tiana Iyengar in her hometown, the locals would have laughed you out of town. Local legend says that Tiana came into this world talking and hasn't stopped since. Don't get us wrong, Tiana was LOVED for this and hasn't really deviated much from this. She has always been bright, bubbly and perky beyond belief. Tiana has never met a stranger and made it her mission to befriend everyone.

The only time this started to waver was in high school, when she managed to fumble her first high school relationship. Her boyfriend did not appreciate how 'friendly' and 'overly-accomodating' she was, not to mention how he couldn't 'take her seriously' with all that positivity. While she recognized now that this was such uncool, toxic behavior, it didn't feel that way at the time. While she wanted to dial it down and process her emotions, she had an image to uphold, expectations to exceed. She didn't have time to change and process all of that. So...she didn't. Tiana kept right on being the bright, perky person everyone needed. Little. Miss. Sunshine.

Maintaining such a sunny disposition led to two different developments in Tia's life. Firstly, she developed a love for movies and live theatre, as she discovered it was 'socially acceptable' to cry at the movies. Secondly, Tiana taking her first yoga class in college in order to appease her roommate. Their Yoga instructor, who was a dead ringer for Michelle Yeoh, opened the young English Major's mind wide open to the world of Yoga and relaxation, of focusing on your breath and grounding yourself in the here and now. Tiana took to it like a duck to water, keeping up with it long after her required courses were over for her credits. The practice had such an influence that she not only became a business major, but she also was working to become a certified Yogi and a certified massage therapist. She had achieved all of these things by the time she graduated, landing a lucrative position at a luxury resort.

Despite all the success, Tiana has never forgotten who she is and where she came from. Therefore, when her life in a big city became too hectic, too noisy and far too complicated, she leapt at the chance to own and operate her own spa in a lovely area known as stardew valley. Having been here a year as of May 1st, Tiana is so grateful she took the plunge. While she doesn't make nearly as much money, she is far happier and hopes to be able to find herself and help others find themselves along the way.

[damagedintellect]

💌BSD OC💌

💌 I figured since I’m a writer I’d be my own BSD SONA/OC/Self Insert based on my novel “Fake It Till You Make It” Her ability lets her copy the ability of the last person she has touched as long as she's seen said ability in action. (Has swatches of hair samples sewed into her gauntlet to swap abilities in battle) 💌 She was originally being sold to the Port Mafia but the ADA intercepted the transaction by "accident". Dazai found out about it when he was looking for who put the bid on Atsushi and came across her unfortunate case. Ultimately he didn't want to find out if she could copy Chuuya's annoying ability and decided to rig the transaction for the ADA's favor instead. Mostly as another fuck you to Mori 💌 When her ability first manifested at 5yrs old, her poor parents sold her for science, she's been passed from lab to lab under the threat that if she tried to rebel they would kill her family. The lab tried to form a singularity, trying to make her the first person to be able to use multiple abilities at once. It ended in failure and somehow she ended up on the black market. She can't remember her real name due to the amount of testing she's been under, she remembers her initials are D & I so she says her name is Damaged Intellect bc she feels like a broken person.

💌 Personality wise she's just tired. The lab was trying to create the ultimate ability vessel so she's been put through the ringer physically and mentally. Hella insomniac with the bags under her eyes to prove it. Only feels comfortable sleeping in small confined spaces or next to people she trusts. Likes to nap under people's desks while they're working. She doesn't want to wake up from the dream of living freely so she has a hard time sleeping on her own.

💌Mentally she has been trained to have a high intellect and analytical comprehension. She needed to be able to understand other people's abilities to use them efficiently being able to read people's intentions was an added bonus. (bc of this she found out her family was already dead so she became indifferent about life since there was nothing to return home to but she didn't want to die either)

She only goes with Dazai since she could tell there was no malicious intent behind his words and he promised life would be more beautiful.

She's carefree, grateful and mostly laid back until someone she cares about gets hurt then she goes absolutely feral. Will rip someone's jugular out with her teeth if she has too. Since she's indifferent about living, she often speaks in dark humor, sass and sarcasm bc of this, but will throw herself in front of a bus to save a dog. Copying Yosano's ability lets her be more reckless with her life than most people since she also doesn't want to die. Honestly she didn't think she would live this long and nothing could compare to the torture of the lab, she's kinda jaded to the pain. Like it still hurts she just doesn't give a shit.

💌She bleached her hair when she joined the ADA bc she couldn't stand seeing the lab rat she used to be but she didn't exactly have a favorite color since she didn't grow up like a normal person so it just stayed copper-ish. Ultimately not having a childhood/being raised in society makes the world one big game of act like you belong, she doesn't always get it right, interpreting her own emotions is hard.

As her roots grow out she has more and more mental breakdowns every time she sees herself in the mirror (only if she's alone)

[Part 2]

[gods-chariots]

Tap to download.

I remember letters, voice messages, pictures, and videos.

We existed nowhere whole, but between the lines of poems, lyrics, and conversations,

in a plane of code and pixels where I didn't have touch to remember you by.

We hid each other there.

Segments parallel to each other’s lines, rushing, electrocuting. 

I used to hope just not to lose you, but toward the end hoped to keep you somewhere with a pulse, inside my chest, so when you sent me your voice, you spoke from within me.

I am reminded of how similar I am to the machine that bridged, limited us.

I had signed up to become it, become preordained for confinement,

and it was my soul that became desperate

to disrobe my flesh and bone and reveal the metals, glass, and wires that puncture the heart pumping pleas to exist differently, someplace else.

There, under the tree breaking the pavement, scribbled with the aging marks of slides and flips.

In the field of the fenced airport. Along palm trees. Outside your window,

where we would gift each other cities, skies, trips.

Why did I pretend I felt nothing for the picture 

of the scatter of toys and strollers around your feet,

your gentle company, long kinks of hair stark against the pin-straights of your baby brothers?

How could I keep in my throat the erupting ache to be there? To show you, really try to show you how much I wished we could be next to each other? Why didn't I? Why couldn't I? Why couldn’t I break the language of grit and grudge and guilt and find a way to reach into you through clicks, keys, scrapped files of pictures with slow shutter speeds, under that palm tree, make you look me in the eye and feel my palm?

Why was I a machine then, but when temper was lost, and you were dead to me,

and I was remembering other people by what I could not remember you by,

and when you found out, you wished to hurt me, and you intended to inflict pain on me,

why was I real? Why am I human when I miss you, hate you, when I want you gone?

Why did I care about being real only when we hurt each other for it? When I condemned you for showing what I couldn’t? When you spat at me for it? I did not know what any of it meant, and I still do not.

Why do I care about being a real girl for you now only when you have found someone there? Your true heart beats for them, and while I prayed to soothe you in the muscles of mine, I only hear myself from a silent ringer. I am a bar in a panel and bubbles of text and dropped calls.

I miss stitching what I remember. I remember tender offerings of comfort from across the world that I am glad never have been fulfilled,

for if I smelled you on your corpse bride jacket and saw your fingerprint on the ruby pendant, I would die.

Images, letters—they were enough. They were too much and too little. I feel like you would have loved to take care of me in images and letters. Look at me in tilts and pans. Find me in code and clouds. Love me in ones and zeros. You said you love me when I told you how you miss home when you I can't remember which was only something you would have said I can't remember from learning your brightness,

that harsh gratitude that translated far more profound than a wild, extrinsic, real life end. What I remember is how much I bled for you and how much guilt I harbored. I remember clearly all the violent wishes and bouts of painful anger.

We were always relieved to be okay and crawl and grip the phones that called and rung, no matter how unresolved, how futile. I thought it wasn't. For a couple of days. I could've done it. I could've become more. I felt it. I love you.

I remember us saying not to say it, but it always came back, so let us have had it.

Let us have had the privilege to have loved within the confines of screens,

through rushes of wired bolts of lightning, survived by millions of deleted letters, voice messages, pictures, and videos. I lie headless there where it all is. Thank you for knowing we are alive.

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Chapter 1: Boba Obsession

Narrated by Angel.

Narrator: What's the most important thing after getting out of bed in the morning?

Narrator: To a gorgeous seasoned net surfer, it's turning on the phone, getting on Moments, and checking out the hottest trends, of course.

Narrator: I yawned, cleared my eyes, and listened to the notification bells going off.

Narrator: I tap the red dot on the lower right to see many friends have tagged me.

Narrator: I held the screen closer.

Narrator: !!!

Narrator: I sat right up and wide awake.

Angel: What? The new branch of "Cup of Tea" opened early?

Narrator: The front page on Moments was dominated by that news.

Angel: Nikki forwarded it. Even Momo, too...

Narrator: Not only did they forward it, but also let their feelings known.

Nikki: Oh, I so want a milk tea! But too busy with the nail salon to wait in the long line.

Master of Barbecue: I want to go! Free me, Nikki, let me go!

Angel: *snicker*

Narrator: I know Nikki and Momo from the nail salon. They couldn't make it, but that didn't mean I couldn't buy for them.

Narrator: Plus, as the premier milk tea connoisseur-blogger on Moments, no way I'm missing the grand opening.

Choose either "Sounds interesting" or "Are you a milk tea expert?"

If "interesting," ...

You: Milk tea connoisseur-blogger? Interesting title.

Narrator: Heh, I think so, too! I, Angel, aka Boba online, am the voice for all who seek the one milk tea they can call their favorite!

If "expert," ...

You: You must know a lot on the subject, then!

Narrator: Naturally! There is no milk tea in the whole Apple Federation that I, Angel, aka Boba, do not know about!

--

Narrator: Click on my Moments channel and you'll see my fine Milk Tea Drinking Guide.

Narrator: It documents my thoughts from all these years of consuming thousands of milk tea.

Narrator: Whether you're looking for fruit tea, Early Gray milk tea, or any limited fancy variations...

Narrator: Or like myself, a lover of the classic version...

Narrator: You can find it there in full detail.

Boba: The sea-salt peach topping is perfect for a lazy rainy day. Feeling awful? Try a triple classic milk tea!

Boba: A philosopher once said, you never lived until you chugged down milk tea late at night.

You: Who said that? Never heard of it...

Narrator: That's not important. Oh, it's almost noon. Can't talk. Gotta go get in line!

Narrator: I grabbed a selfie stick and cell phone, ran under the hot sun, and caught the bus.

Narrator: I got off the bus fifteen minutes later at a stop near the milk tea shop.

Narrator: The shop's sign was in dreamy rainbow colors. Next to the door was a giant prop teacup.

Narrator: Candy-colored balloons flanked the storefront, making it look like a cabin right out of a fairy tale.

Narrator: It was my 601st visit.

Narrator: It was surprisingly busy for a weekday. Work wasn't over yet, but a lot of older men and women were jostling for spots already.

Narrator: I even thought the shop might have gotten ringers for the serpentine line.

Narrator: Before I knew it, I was in line for an hour and forty minutes.

Angel: One, two, three ahead of me... Almost there!

Narrator: I wiped the sweat off my forehead. Victory was within grasp!

Narrator: Finally, just one more to go.

Clerk: Hello. What would you like, sir?

Narrator: The plain-looking man with a cap right before me pulled out a seemingly endless list.

Angel: ...

Sir: One of everything on the list.

Clerk: Got it. Please wait.

Narrator: The staff, probably used to orders like this, got to work. Then...

Narrator: Ten years later... Nope, make that twenty minutes and it was my turn!

Clerk: Thanks for waiting. May I help you?

Narrator: I took a deep breath, leaned on the counter, and said...

Angel: Lemon latte with sea-salt foaming and mint mango topping, 75% sweet, half ice! Plus...

Narrator: I rattled off a litany of concoctions not on the menu.

Narrator: The clerk knowingly smiled.

Narrator: You definitely won't find them on the regular menu.

Narrator: That's a skill only the most experienced milk tea bloggers possessed, the knowledge of the secret menu.

Narrator: So my Drinking Guide show absolutely reveals things you don't know or see elsewhere.

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

[yekokataa]

I think amazon made a mistake somewhat by releasing the show all in one day, dead ringers is the type of project better consumed slowly imo, to take in all the details and the little easter eggs, the discourse that could spawn from each episode etc, because I actually did see many posts in the tags the weeks after it was released, but the hype died down fast and again, as I said in my previous message, it wasn't promoted enough, most ppl have no idea it's even there! But yeah, as you too said, it's a complex show with *many* things going on for itself. Personally I love unhinged characters, but many Rachel lovers mutuals of mine for example wouldn't able to handle such themes, if they're used to YA and/or cutesy queer stories. this is something different altogether. I'm actually on my third rewatch and I keep discovering new things and interpretations! By the way, I couldn't find a tag for the show on your blog, would like to read your thoughts on it if you wrote some posts here

i think the binge model is objectively bad for most shows. being able to discuss a show week by week is better all around. especially for a heavy show like dead ringers! i had to take time between episodes, it wasn't a binge show at all. i get the impression amazon is only doing weekly release shows for the ones they want to put significant marketing behind, like the wheel of time, and for a weird show like this one, they just chucked it out all at once to get rid of it.

i don't think i wrote all that many thoughts down and i'm terrible at tagging but they might be under my film and tv tag if you scroll back far enough. but it's also possible i didn't tag them at all! i can't ever find my own posts most of the time so uhhh good luck!

[jovilevine]

running from a boogyman that may be long since dead, a mind for working with her hands, the reflection of early morning sunlight against an empty bottle of whiskey, a heart that still beats but is held together by tape and superglue.

✦ RILEY KEOUGH, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ✦ JOVI LEVINE the THIRTY year old has been in Hidehill for HER ENTIRE LIFE (FOUR YEARS SINCE HER RETURN) and was a ENEMY to Carter Thompson, one of the shadows. Whispers on the streets are that the MAINTENANCE AT QUICK STOP MOTEL, BARTENDER AT THE VANILLA UNICORN + MUSICIAN who lives in HADLEY PARK are said to be CHARMING and SHORT-FUSED but I guess we’ll find out for ourselves. 

TRIGGER WARNING: infidelity, abuse, death, corpses, drowning, alcoholism, drug use

 ⸻  𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘

Jovi was dealt a bad hand from the very start. Born Josephine Penelope Levine, she was the product of an affair between a wealthy CEO and his secretary - leaving Jovi's mother to fend for herself after the inevitable happened. He wouldn't leave his wife.

Jovi and her mother were originally living in Augusta, Georgia before the end of her mother's affair. While Jovi considers herself from Hidehill, the southern twang that comes with her mother's Georgia hometown is kind of hard to miss.

From what she knows from her mother - Jovi is a dead ringer for her father. It was perhaps the biggest betrayal the young toddler could have mustered. Even if she was too young to understand.

To cope with the lack of support from the man Catherine Levine thought adored her, loved her.. she turned to the bottle. When Jovi was six, she began leaving her on a neighbors doorstep and a simple knock on the door, stumbling back home the next morning.

It was worse when she started drinking regularly at home. She hurled insult after insult at the young girl, tearing down her self worth until it was nothing.

When Jovi was thirteen - she found her mother in the bathtub having drank herself to death. There was no knowledge of how long she had been there, when she had died. What a death to die. Drowning yourself in the bathtub, too drunk to be saved.

Considering that Jovi didn't have any living relatives besides a father who would pay to get her to go away, Jovi was put into the foster care system, moved from several homes without a placement that really felt like home.

At eighteen, she was all alone again. This time, with no one to help her. No one to steady her. She had been used to being alone, but at least the homes she had lived in contained people who sometimes cared.

It was then when she started going by Jovi - a derivative of her name. With a new alias that made her feel powerful, Jovi left Hidehill behind for what she thought was for good.

In order to keep herself afloat, she began stripping. She had spent some time traveling running from her issues until her money ran out, leaving her to settle down for a while. That is, until she became restless again.

Somehow she couldn't stray too far from home and ended up in Nashville, where she would come face to face with Alex Kingsley for the very first time. The two began seeing each other casually, but the longer things went on the more serious things got... until Jovi ran. Like she always did.

While she's used to running away, she never wanted to leave Alex. And for her, perhaps that was the scariest part. She tried to rationalize it, tried to tell herself that they both had too many wounds that had not been addressed. But there was no escaping it. She was in love. And it terrified her.

She ended up back in Hidehill about four years ago, relocating to Hadley Park where she's been in the same run-down trailer ever since.

She got a job at the Motel fixing it's broken down pieces, mainly because she was good at it, but because there were so many of them there was so much she could do. Quiet her mind. She got a second job at The Vanilla Unicorn because she knew playing her music wouldn't be enough to pay her heating bill.

With the murders starting up again, considering Marcus Shaw was left as a warning sign in the park where she lived. However, something has been pulling her to stay. And things started to make more sense when Alex showed up in her hometown, at the bar where she worked.

Then suddenly, Alex shows up during her shift and walks into The Vanilla Unicorn. And begins setting up behind the bar. And suddenly -- Jovi doesn't know what is real and what is fake anymore. The passage of time no longer feels real.

⸻  𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

Identifies as queer, but the preference for women is strong with this one. Likely has only had one serious relationship with a man and that was probably back in high school.

Didn't really have major beef with Carter - just kinda always thought he was a piece of shit. Didn't want to feel vindicated when he was arrested, of course.

Kinda just tries to keep her head down and go about her life. Make her music. She's recently started playing gigs at the Cadillac every now and then and has actually begun getting some traction.

A major commitment-phobe. Maybe because she's so used to everyone she grows to care about in her life being only temporary.

Can absolutely haul ass and sometimes subs with Max when extra hands are needed for security.

MORE TO COME.

⸻ 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

Friends: OPEN

Exes ( any gender - 1/3 ): Alex Kingsley, OPEN

Hookups/FWB ( former or current ): OPEN

Love Interest: Alex Kingsley

Coworkers: Lakeyn McCray, Adriana Martinez, Dallas Parker, Danny Alexander, Jocelyn Hayes, Maximo Aguilar, OPEN

These are just ideas, I'm here and ready for all the plots!

[archive-of-the-guild]

SO!

Dragon's Dogma 2 first impressions!

So far? Pretty decent! The graphics are pretty good, more detail than the last one. The first pawn from the last game, Rook, has made a return so that was cool XD! Poor guy looks like he's been through the ringer though lmaoo. Things seem just a little hand-holdy for what the game wants you to do which i'm hoping levels out after a while. Like it has a direction and it's doing it's best to have you follow it through the npc's.

The combat seems a little clunky to me. not as responsive as the first game and they did change a few things up with how the button layout and overall feel of it works. Not an initial fan but i'll get used to it and figure it out. The also split up the ranger into the Archer and Thief vocations. Not a big fan of that tbh because if you like archery like i do, now you don't have a close range weapon to defend yourself. Besides the initial four vocations, i haven't come across any others yet. The first game had hybrid Vocations and i'm hoping that's still here.

On another note, I MESSED UP WITH MY PAWN!!! Not too terribly but she sounds like a too-peppy know-it-all that honestly makes me giggle a bit XD. I might rework her later but for now, i'll deal! Raza looks amazing! I can probably get a few icons of her with the 2.3 hours i have but i'm hoping for at least one more cutscene before i do.

The pawns have also been talking about ladders but i couldn't actually find them.... I may just be blind though so that may require more testing before i call it a bug.

[vivisextion]

I first saw Slipknot at age 14.

No one knows how I managed it. I'm not sure I even remember. These days, you have to be 16 or 18 to get into Standing areas. I do know I had to buy tickets on the phone, back in the old days (2005, that is). A singular ticket, too - none of my friends, not even the classmate who had gone with me to see Linkin Park the year before, was that into Slipknot.

But I HAD to see them. This was the Subliminal Verses tour cycle, and Vol. 3 was my first and favourite Slipknot album, even to this day. It's the reliable old warm blanket for my soul whenever I need it. It's on right now, as I write this.

My memory isn't that good, but luckily I unearthed a livejournal (livejournal!) diary entry about the event I made the next day.

August 16, 2005. I went right after school. I went to a very conservative Anglican secondary school, too. I tried not to get caught in the bathroom, as I coloured my nails black with permanent marker (I know, don't laugh) and changed into my standard metalhead baby outfit - Slipknot band shirt, black cargo shorts, and my pride and joy: steel-toe boots I somehow managed to cajole my parents into letting me own.

I caught the bus to the open-air war memorial park where the gig was going to be. I got there at 4pm, 4 hours early. A couple other maggots were already hanging around. I found myself surrounded by tombstones, and I read them all. It was the middle of the Hungry Ghost Festival, too - a very fitting time for Slipknot to pay a visit to this godforsaken hellhole of a small town I lived in. (Especially given the paranormal circumstances surrounding the making of Vol. 3.)

While I wandered around the venue (no security or sound guys were around at all), I spotted two white vans pull up to the stage, in the middle of a clearing. It was them! I spotted Joey and missed him by a hair's breadth. I was quickly ushered behind the stone archway entrance by security then.

(Funnily enough, while walking around, I got mistaken for Joey more than once. I am the same height as him, had the same long black hair, same pale skin, and was wearing almost exactly what he had been. One person claimed from behind, I was a dead ringer, apart from when I turned around, and they realised I was Chinese.)

It was soundcheck time. A sound guy testing the mics would say random things, like "testing one two three two one.... fudge fudge, I like fudge...." The band even did Purity, so us earlybirds were given a rare treat, and we screamed along from the entrance, and drummed our fists on the sides of nearby porta-potties. I hope no one was in there at the time. Whenever we got a glance of any of them, we'd scream and cheer. Finally they left again, but were soon to return.

This was the first time I'd been a part of the metal community. I was barely allowed internet in those days. But here, random strangers were friendly, striking up conversations like they'd been friends for years. Two big guys, called Trevor and Ted, looked out for me the entire gig after, keeping other big dudes from crushing me too much (I'm 5'3, remember). Other people commented on me being so baby, because I was only 14, and said they would take care of me.

When we were finally let in, right after the usher cut the rope, I ran in, screamed "WOOOHOOO!" along with a few friends I'd made. I only briefly stopped to receive this RoadRunner Records compilation CD from a roadie, then resumed running like a madman screaming and dashing into the VIP cage.

I was right up against the barricade - the first time I would ever be at a gig. People from assorted magazines and press took photos of us, and I think I got my photo taken about 10 times at least.

(This is how I got in trouble with my parents the next day. My photo had ended up in a local paper - you can see examples of that here. They had no idea what I'd been to see the night before, and were horrified when they saw what Slipknot looked like.)

We saw Sid filming us from the stage with a camcorder and screamed at him. We saw Jim and screamed at him too, and he flashed the victory sign back at us. I remember Metallica playing at the time, another one of my favourite bands.

The concert was a brutal religious experience I will never forget. People with their arms outstretched, crying and screaming out loud, moving like the devil possessed them.

The new friends around me made sure I was alright after every song! There were huge guys fainting behind us who had to get carried out, but I endured, a tiny 14 year old child. We got a family speech as per tradition, of course. "Are you guys out there all looking out for each other? We're all one big family, and we gotta look out for each other." What Corey said held true - strangers hugged, shook hands, talked, and made friends. I was heartened by how close-knit the maggot community was. It really did feel like a family, and it's felt like that ever since.

Of course, I did my first Jump The Fuck Up. It is possibly the most euphoria I've ever experienced all at one go. (Later, in 2020, I was extremely disappointed that I didn't get to do it again in London.)

They did the death masks for Vermilion, and I remember Chris helping Sid fix his mask and shirt when they'd changed back. Sid hung out near Clown's drums for most of the time too, and hugged him from behind and just latched on at one point. It was pretty adorable.

Fun fact: The version of Eyeless you hear on the 9.0 Live album is from Singapore, as is Eeyore. There are very few photos and videos from the crowd of this gig, because in 2005, very few people had camera phones. The crowd at the Slipknot gig in 2020 was a sea of arms with phones, filming the gig rather than experiencing it. Yes, I'm going to be that cranky old geezer who complains about the good old days.

Joey as usual, was fucking amazing and never failed. However, due to the fact that I was right up front, only his tiny head was visible behind his vast drum set, I couldn't see him the entire gig.

Amazingly, the government told Slipknot they were not allowed to do obscene gestures, curse, vomit (possibly due to the decomposing crow pre-show ritual), simulate humping on objects, throw faeces, or jump off stage (looking at you, Sid). I don't think our totalitarian government knew who they were dealing with, because watch what happens next.

Near the end of the gig, Corey tells the crowd “your government has given us a laundry list of things we aren’t allowed to do, your government has told us we are not allowed to swear”. Crowd goes “BOOOOOOOOO” and Corey goes “BUT WE DON’T GIVE A FUCK!!” And they launch into Surfacing, the last song. Everyone riots. Best night of my life.

You can find the setlist from that gig here. It had everything I wanted and more.

This story later got immortalised when Kerrang asked maggots for gig stories, for an article which came out in 2020. I had forgotten entirely, until people began messaging me to tell me, and one friend sent me a scan of it!

On the way out, I managed to get a shirt. I remember calling my best friend at the time, and got everyone at the merch booth to go "IF YOU'RE 555 THEN I'M 666" for her. This shirt has since been lost to the landfill, because my Christian mother took it upon herself to dispose of it the first opportunity she got. Needless to say, our relationship is not very good.

After that, I even managed to get that Roadrunner compilation album they were giving out signed. The band was staying at the Carlton. Unfortunately, Joey wasn't there, neither was Clown, and Mick was swarmed by guitar nerds so, 6/9 it is. It is a great regret of mine that I'll never have anything signed by him, nor will I ever get to see him perform ever again.

The next day, I went to school, my head swimming. Yes, I went to see Slipknot ON A SCHOOL NIGHT. I was a giant bruise, from my ribs and my chest, to my hips and knees, from being slammed into the barricade like a screen door in a hurricane. Most of all, my sore, headbanged-out neck could barely hold my head up. Classmates thought I had been in a fight. I was torn between battle-scarred exhaustion and hyperactive ranting about the most amazing gig of my short life (it still is, to this day). When teachers spoke to me, I wanted to reply, "Fuck trigonometry! I've just seen SLIPKNOT. Do you not understand that my world is different? Do you not understand that *I* am now different?"

My country was a small, conservative town that Slipknot had graced with their unholy presence. Corey Taylor once said that where he grew up in Iowa had a way of making a 16 year old boy feel like a 36 year old man (or something to that effect). I felt that in my weary bones as a teenager, being from a place just like that. Years later, Watain would run into worse trouble, and wouldn't even be allowed to perform. The Christian stranglehold is stronger than ever. It was a good thing that back then Slipknot had the element of surprise, striking serpent-fast and choking this society by the neck for a too-brief time, before they departed.

After that, my desire to play the drums only grew like a weed. Joey Jordison had, has, and will always inspire me as a drummer, and seeing the beast live (or what little I could spy behind the massive riser) had only spurred me on. I had always been a noisemaker, be it driving my parents mad with chopsticks on pots and pans, or driving my teachers mad with pencils on my desk. But of course, my parents wouldn't have any of it. I'd have to wait a good 14 more years before I'd be able to afford lessons and later, a kit of my own. Better late than never, right?

There will never be enough words to describe the impact Joey has had on my life. And it isn't just Slipknot, either. I could write another essay on his time with the Murderdolls and its influence on my own gender-non-conforming ways. Suffice to say, my wardrobe doesn't look too dissimilar to his during the early Dead in Hollywood days.

I told my boss I could not come into work today. I was grieving. I said that my music teacher died, as I didn't think she'd understand the magnitude of my loss. In a way, it's true. And I am not the only one Joey has nudged on the path to being a musician, that much is certain. To the rest of us, I wish strength and love for you in this difficult time. The best way to honour Joey, who truly loved music, both the creation and appreciation of it, is to pass that gift on. Teach it to someone. He is the reason I picked up the sticks in the first place, and one day, they'll be handed on, the heavy metal baton for the next generation.

And finally: remember that the ones we have lost are never truly gone.

Vinnie

P.S. See if you can spot me in the crowd photos in this post!

[cherry-gemz]

Summary: This is a continuation of the movie Before We Go and my interpretation and imagination of an A/U. Brooke is you (Y/N) and Nick is still Nick :)

Prompt: "Just admit that I'm right." for @the-ce-horniest-book-club Drunk Drabbles for Nick Vaughan.

Pairings: Nick Vaughan x Y/N

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: <2k...is this a drabble still? Oopsies XD

A/N: I watched this movie for the first time just last week. It's now one of my top 3 Cevans movies! While I'm all for a romantic, serendipitous, spontaneous trope...much like Before Sunrise *no spoilers*, the ending was great, but I wanted a different spin. No pressure...yah, right! Either way, hope you enjoy xx.

Tags: @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @tonystankschild @a-little-counter-esperanto

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You sniff and rub the end of your coat sleeve with your nose. Had to be the chill in the air, you thought. Not the fact that you just spent the most amazing and life changing night with a man you just met hours before and it was ending.

You stare out the train’s window; the gentle hum of the cart gliding across the steel tracks echoed in your thoughts. You shook your head in thinking that you made a mistake. I should have stayed...I should have told him how I felt…

“Nick. It's you again. Listen. I want to give you one more piece of advice. You're gonna be playing one night... Grand Central... thinking of every reason in the world to not go see the girl that broke your heart. Then, you're gonna meet somebody. And now, at first, she's gonna seem… icy. You're gonna know right away she's trouble. She's gonna take all your money. You're probably gonna get punched in the face. But stay with her; you're gonna need her a lot more than she needs you. And at the end of the night, you're gonna want to say some things, but don't. Don't ruin it. It's nothing she doesn't already know. Just give her a kiss. Wish her good luck. And thank her. Thank her for showing you that you can love more than one person in this life.”

He was unbelievably charming. You said so yourself. His raw talent with the trumpet was beautiful and different from what you were used to. The suburbia of the Boston bubble was what you were forced to live in now. You were from London, you were cultured and refined. Sure things with Michael were exciting at first, but the ho hum of the daily diatribe of routine became loathsome. Dépaysement. But you still never wavered in your marriage. Unlike Michael who had crossed that sacred line and lost your trust. It wasn't even fully the physical aspect that he went to another woman. It was the intimacy of telling her his deepest desires and then some that hurt the most. That he would want to share that with anyone else but you. But tonight. Tonight was what made you see clearly.

"It's possible, isn't it? It's possible that you could meet somebody who's perfect for you even though you're committed to somebody else," you asked as you bit your lip.

"No, no, see, I think if you're committed to somebody, you don't allow yourself to find perfection in someone else."

You found yourself blushing and cupping your cheek in thoughts of Nick. He was right. The whole night was a cluster mess of you trying to get home before Michael so you'd be able to throw away that wretched note. That he'd come to his senses and forget Linny. That he'd realized he was a fool and you'd start over. Just like old times.

However, slowly that feeling of reconciliation faded away little by little as each hour in the city passed. You couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but somehow the scrappy trumpet player Nick Vaughan etched his way into your icy heart and left an impression and stayed.

His fluffy, dark hair - so soft and inviting for you to rake your fingers through it was enough to drive you mad. His scruffy beard, which tickled when you kissed. You already loved ghosting your palms over it softly and imagined being able to do it whenever you wished. He said earlier into the night you weren't his type; you scoffed, but we're annoyed that it bothered you. You were a classic model of what guys were into, looks wise. Sure, your attitude was what rubbed some people the wrong way, but Americans really were too sensitive.

He however...he was the full package. Every toothy grin, wink, and full hearty laugh. He was addicting. He was a dead ringer for a heartthrob, but you also couldn't hate the guy for it. He was the friend you'd call to bail you out of jail at 4am and the boyfriend that you could see settling down with. It was nauseating really.

And then his lips. His soft lips...you can’t believe you kissed him in the hotel room. And then again at the train station. But you would have kicked yourself for not doing so in the first place. The way your fingers interlaced themselves on his terry cloth robe, how desperately you wanted to press your body against his. All you wanted was for him to feel that burning need within the apex between your thighs and extinguish it all night. But it was more than that, he was what you were missing. But you were kidding yourself. You weren’t running to Michael, you were running away from Nick.

But why? Because of the unknown? Because he actually knew who you were deep down inside? How could a man you barely knew, change you? Change what you thought was true, what you thought was love?

You dove your hand into your wool jacket’s pockets to push any thoughts of self-doubt, when you realize there was a piece of cardstock. You were puzzled to find it and immediately smiled in recognizing the hotel survey card. You bit your lip as you read down the survey questions one by one and notice Nick’s handwriting at the bottom, ‘turn over’ with an arrow.

Curious you turn over the hotel card and he’s written the word ‘yes’. Yes? You furrow your brow and contemplate further what he would be saying yes to. You think about the night - the time at the bar, helping him with Hannah, when you went to the psychic reading. Yes? What in the world - and then you turn the card back over and realize that on the second to last question it asked “Will you be likely to return?”

None of the boxes are checked, but he’d written ‘yes’ on the back. Yes. Yes he’ll return? Where? To the hotel? But when? You look up and rush to think about stopping the train dead in its tracks to return back to Grand Station. You breathe out heavily and come to terms that this isn’t a movie. He’s not chasing you down the tracks, jumping on the train to find you. Or is he? You wouldn’t put it past him. The whole night was filled with serendipitous concourses, this would be icing on the cake. You dart your head around to see if he’s in the cable car. It’s like in every rom com movie ending, the man of your dreams will be right there. He’s somehow charmed his way into boarding the train and found you waiting like a princess in her high tower. The train car is dark and bleak, only a few passengers are riding it as it’s the first route to Boston on a Sunday. You peer over to see if he’s in the next cart, but alas he is not. You slump in your seat and rub your thumb methodically over his words.

"Have you ever had a feeling that somebody was going to play a major part in your life?” you ask.

“Yeah."

“Do you know the most interesting thing about hotel art? It's what's on the back.”

It’s then you realize you have to return to New York. This story wasn’t about you and Michael anymore. No, it was about the man who selflessly helped you while you were in need, not only at your dire hour, but metaphorically as well. This was meant to be. You were meant to miss your train, break your phone, and meet the handsome man named Nick Vaughn. You knew he’d still be in the city because of his audition for the day with Duke at least, if you could just get to him somehow...

*

Your knees bounced as you sat on a cushioned chair in the hotel lobby. You had planned to wait there all day, but then realized the $13 train ticket was your only way of providing you security back home. So you went home. Confronted Michael. Cursed, cried, and then relief rushed over you as he had read your letter and how you knew about the affair. How you wanted to throw fists on his chest and tell him how much you hated him. But once you saw him, you found it didn't matter to you anymore. Someone else was worth fighting for. Your marriage was over. The hatred and spite you once had for your husband had dissipated. Your world didn't end like you thought it would. This wasn't your only chance at love. You were choosing to be happy, whether it was with Nick or not. This was the first time you were going to jump without having a net.

And Nick was wrong. Michael didn't want to work things out, he was coming to tell you that he loved you, but that and he'd be returning to Atlanta for good. The house, car, everything was yours: Nick said so himself, you gotta be okay with not being okay. So you walked away. You made the choice just like the psychic said and took it in stride, you faced the music.

However now you found yourself back in New York. Not the once stranded woman at a crossroads less than 24 hours before, but the woman that made a choice. You were worried that Nick would see it as you running away again. Running away because Michael didn't choose you. But in reality you didn't choose each other.

Still without an ID, you took your car and better against the four hour drive to the city and hoped a cop wouldn't pull you over. You thought of the night in the hotel. The laughs, the closeness you two encountered. The playful and cheeky way he could make you feel seen. You were starting to get nervous, what if he doesn't show up? What if I missed my chance?

"I'm an idiot," you murmur to yourself. "I can't believe I'm here."

You stand up and realize there Nick was there in your path. He looked a little worn, obviously from staying up all night. But he had changed and showered from the looks of it, and his signature trumpet case held in his hand.

"Well look who it is. The biggest loser in New York."

You laughed and blushed at the sight of him. He slung his trumpet case over his broad shoulder and walked over to close the gap.

“Just admit that I’m right.”

"Admit what?" You ask as you find yourself touching his jacket sleeve.

"Admit that you couldn't get enough of me." You hitched a breath from his words.

"You can say that."

"I can't believe you came back," he responded. His blue eyes gazed into yours as he brushed away a tendril of hair from your face.

"I read your answer to the survey...on the back."

"The stay did exceed my expectations and I did say I would return," he smiles.

"And here you are."

"Here I am…" he pulls away slightly as he's reminded that you're married.

"I jumped," you replied.

He's taken back by your statement and furrows his brow.

"What? With what?"

"I told Michael it was over."

"Wow. I'm so...sorry, Y/N."

"Don't be. You said so yourself, at some point it was time to face the music."

He nodded, absorbing the information.

"Say what's in your head."

He shook his head and grinned,"I'm just glad you came back is all."

"Yeah? How'd you know?"

"I didn't. Just sure as hell hoped you would."

He intertwines your fingers with his and holds tight. Like a missing puzzle piece found, your hand fits perfectly with his.

"Whaddya say we get out of here?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"I may know a place," he smiles devilishly and gives your knuckles a kiss.

You grab his dress shirt collar and turn him towards you. He runs his hands through your hair and places his lips upon yours, kissing you deeply. It's a kiss so passionate, so perfect - that after you part, neither open your eyes for a few moments afterwards and he embraces you tightly.

"Good, because I'm not going anywhere."