#red and sixth tale as old as time

[nugulover69]

I think you two sucking each other off would be less homoerotic than whatever you're doing here

[ne-videl]

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤

♡

yandere Dion Agriche x fairy fem reader

he will gladly go even to his own death if you'll order him to.

sub yandere, unhealthy relationship, a little bit of Cassis x reader, mentions of violence, reader and Dion have master/pet relationships, also reader is referred to as "sister" a few times so pseudo incest I guess, sfw but a bit suggestive, everybody likes you!! poor english

word count: ~2k

a/n: there I am again drooling over fictional men. so here's my favorite yandere trope!! for if your psychopath doesn't worship you it's not your psychopath ©

honestly when I was reading this manhwa for the first time and saw dion I was like "damn I want this man on his knees 🤨🤨", so here you are. eat.

"you're a dog, Dion." – not-Roxanne lifts the corners of her lips in a slight smile, while her neat fingers run through his shaggy hair.

"your dog," – Dion adds mentally.

you feel the touch of his dry lips on your bare foot.

sitting like this, kneeling in front of you, seems right – it can't be any other way, and it won't be.

"may I?" – after receiving tacit approval, he leans closer, his hand stroking your bare thigh.

you smell like flowers: maids must have added rose oil to the water, and this smell digs into his lungs, making him roll his eyes in ecstasy.

just from this, from the fact that you are so close, he could just reach his hand out and feel you.

your body is cold – devoid of any human warmth, burning his skin with the cold of it's touch. your eyes look with a non malicious mockery: how a person looks at their beloved pet. with kind condescension.

you lean in, and Dion feels a kiss at the top of his head. scent of roses hits his nose, almost suffocating, and it feels like his mind is about to give up. well, if he dies right here, he won't regret a bit.

crimson flush on his cheeks almost burns his skin.

____*:･ﾟ✧

"hello. my name is ███████. do you mind playing with me, brother?"

he turns around at the girly voice behind him – distracting himself from the dead bird – and he is met by the look of your laughing eyes.

not red ones.

his sister tucks a lock of her hair behind her little ear and sits down next to him, waiting for an answer.

shouldn't she be blonde like Roxanne?

who is Roxanne?

"okay." – Deon catches his sister's smile and for some reason wants to smile too. she talks about a cute teddy bear that her father gave her, about how she likes to drink tea under the summer sun, and that she probably likes him too.

he had once seen in a book: in the old fairy tales that mothers read to their children, it was said that fairies could replace a human child with their own.

none of Agriche's children believed in fairy tales, but it seems appropriate for his "sister" – you, not-Roxanne, must be a fairy. a lovely creature with transparent wings and a honey voice.

he doesn't mind. whatever calls itself his sister, Deon thinks he really, really likes it.

____*:･ﾟ✧

if he's not on a mission, Deon is always by your side.

"what are you doing here? can't you see sister is with me now?" – Jeremy mumbled indignantly, but you only laughed softly, covering your lips with a neat palm.

a beautiful silver ring glitters on the sixth finger of the "sister".

their father also adores you – maybe it's natural for fairies to charm everyone around them – from members of their so-called "family" to the maids and even the hounds of the estate.

maybe he's a hound himself in her eyes. it didn't matter, as long as he could be with his "sister" – or at least with the creature that pretended to be her.

it was undoubtedly a pleasure to belong to you.

Deon drapes a white fur coat over your shoulders: you often went out into the garden in light clothes, as if the winter cold did not bother you at all. your hair falls over the fur collar, and you smile at him, giggling about how quietly he walks, and chirping about something else. you were fond of chatting, and it was often very difficult to stop listening to you. he, however, usually spoke rarely and little, accompanying you, his mistress, like a silent shadow.

you're spending too much time in the company of a Pedelian pup – an unacceptably long time – so that his eye begins to twitch with anger.

isn't he enough? why would you need this toy if he is always at your feet, your faithful dog, a hound, ready to do whatever you want without a trace of doubt and regret?

Dion wished you'd let him kill Cassis.

"may I ask you a question?" – you turn at the sound of his voice. surrounded by a winter garden, you look even more beautiful, pitch black against dead-white snow. perfection.

"of course, ask. what is it?" – "sister" raises an eyebrow a little stiffly, not naturally, just a little bit.

"do you like him more? I dare not doubt you, and you should not doubt my loyalty, but still-" – his scarlet eyes narrow slightly – "but still, do you like him more?"

if you answer yes, he will go and kill the eldest of the Pedelian offspring on the spot. this is Deon's place. and the hell he's going to let someone else take it.

"of course not, silly." – you laughed – "didn't we discuss this earlier? toys are toys, but you were and will remain my favorite."

right. that's how it should be. why did he even doubt it?

"favorite." – mentally repeats after you while your six-fingered palm rests on his head: you had a habit to pet him like a puppy.

"favorite." – gaze of crimson eyes trembles, invariably riveted to you, and Dion struggles with the desire to grab the object of his sick adoration in his arms, hug you, to feel the cold of your inhuman body at least through clothes. your smell is dope, your touch is opium, your eyes are an abyss, mesmerizing with the horror of its cold depths.

but he can't. you didn't allowed it yet.

and he, as befits a well-trained hound, will obediently wait for your permission.

____*:･ﾟ✧

"███████. that's not your real name, is it? what are you?" – Cassis looks at you expectantly.

you tilt your head to the side, picturesquely rounding your eyes and raising your neat eyebrows.

theatrically. not natural.

"what are you talking about? I am me. who else do you think I can be? stop asking stupid questions, darling." – you answer with a mocking smile. like he's saying something ridiculous.

"are you kidding me? you have six fingers! why doesn't anyone else notice this? besides, you look different, not at all like-" – Cassis cuts himself off in mid-sentence.

like who?

"you know, forget it... it's like I haven't been myself lately. you know, with all this kidnapping, and even your brother..." – he shakes his head nervously under your laughing gaze.

something inside told him that if he kept asking questions now, it won't end well. and anyway, why would he do that? after all, it's not polite to interrogate his benefactress.

everything is fine.

"the less you know the better you sleep, my dear. why don't we just proceed as planned? and how many fingers I have is none of your business." – you look appraisingly, as an already well-fed snake looks at a mouse.

eat or not?

"if I were you, I'd be more worried about the success of your future escape, and for that matter, about my dear brother. you see, Dion has been wanting to twist your neck for a long time." – mention of the red-eyed man makes Cassis tense up.

when you see his reaction, you giggle like you just said the funniest joke in the world.

"come on. I was joking. Dion won't hurt you unless I tell him to. he's a good boy."

when he thinks about it, you, the elder Agriche, had a lot in common with the poisonous butterflies you adored so much. in the sense that Cassis often got the impression that you wanted to devour him. at least it wasn't hard to imagine transparent wings behind your back.

____*:･ﾟ✧

gatherings with your father always ended well after midnight – invariably over cigars and wine, in his office full of acrid tobacco smoke.

it was no secret who will become the next head of Agriche: Lante never hid his paradoxical favoritism. with you alone he had the relationship that most closely resembles the relationship of a parent to a child.

"in general, everything is going as it should. don't forget to dress up for the next dinner party: I've already called the designers." – Lante exhaled a cloud of smoke, smiling cheekily: alcohol was doing its job.

"as you wish. Is Dion doing good at his job?" – you answered with a relaxed face: wine, as well as many other "human" things, had no effect on you.

"you ask as if you don't know. you raised him well." – you slightly unnaturally round your eyes in surprise – "only a fool here does not know that the only person to whom my son is truly faithful is you. I don't know how you did it, but these mind games of yours seem to have had the desired effect. of course, you're my daughter! you're more like a dog with a mistress, not a brother and sister."

Lante bursts into a deep laugh, and his "daughter" does not deny herself a satisfied grin.

a dog and his mistress, huh?

heavy doors of the head's office closed behind your fragile – at least visually –figure.

you are greeted by the night chill of the deserted corridor of the estate and your dog waiting in the distance.

"hi, Dion. already returned?" – he just nods silently in response, coming closer to you and offering his hand.

my-my, just came from a mission in the middle of the night and immediately rushed to you. how obedient.

"did you hear it?" – you tilt your head to the side with a sly grin.

"I did. while I was waiting for you." – he doesn't say anything about Lante's comment. doesn't deny it.

indeed, you raised him well. no trace of pride was left.

Dion in your hands – a faithful puppy, readily following any of your instructions. even if you'll send him right to his death, he will return, only bowing his head in anticipation of praise and the touch of your cold hands.

and you, like a good master, praise, and stroke, and kiss. after all, if there is a stick, there must be a carrot.

____*:･ﾟ✧

"here we will part, my dear friend. we have already discussed your plan of action, so I see no point in repeating myself. go to freedom, but quickly: we, you know, deal with riots quickly."

"wait, listen, please. can you at least answer me before I leave? what are you, really? I always have the feeling that you're not who you seem. I mean... no, I like you, I really like you, it's just-" – Cassis cuts himself off, realizing that he blurted out too much.

he's all flushed, confused in words, and you're just looking at him with your unnerving eyes and smiling.

watching. and aren't blinking.

"God, no matter how much years I'm carrying on my shoulders, it's the first time I've met such a curious human." – you purse your scarlet lips, thinking about the answer – "don't worry, "she" is now where she will be better. and as for your question, dear, you can consider that I'm just a bystander. yes, let's think so. so stop talking and run, okay?"

"and you? will you be okay?" – you raised your eyebrow: still unnatural, however, he's already used to it.

exit from the estate is already very close, just a stone's throw away, and Cassis is hesitating. desperately grabbing your wrist, looking with shining yellow eyes into your laughing, soulless ones.

tch.

"what, you want to stay my toy forever? you know, I'm an Agriche too, and I might change my mind about letting you go if you keep looking at me like a beaten puppy." – realizing that your quip was not accepted by the "audience", you rolled your eyes, but then broke into your too perfect smile again.

"don't worry. I can't be killed in a way that matters."– a six-fingered palm rests on the top of his head, and your face stretches into a grin, not human, too wide for a human.

but he's not scared. he wants to watch more – it's impossible to look away, even if his instinct for self-preservation screams that he needs to get out of here as soon as possible.

the abyss, as it turned out, can really look back, and it is beautiful in its terrifying appearance.

is this how Deon feels every time he looks at something that calls itself his sister?

"well, let's never meet again, my friend." – and Cassis leaves, leaves without turning around, because he understands that if he turns around, he will never be able to leave this nightmarish estate. he won't want to.

you hesitate a little, watching him with unblinking eyes, and with a sense of accomplishment you turn back.

your face rests against a man's chest. familiar scent of ash and blood hits your sensitive nose.

"and you're still walking silently." – Dion drapes his coat over your bare shoulders. a gloved hand lingers on your skin a little longer than it should.

"it's cold in the dungeons. you should have dressed warmer." – you laughed a little.

he knows perfectly well that you don't feel the cold, but he does this every time anyway.

"and what, you won't even ask anything? aren't you curious why I let the Pedelian offspring go?" – your six–fingered hand is holding his elbow as you wind through the dark and cold corridors.

"I will not question your methods. but was it wise to talk about your secret, even in this way? doesn't he know too much now?" – it's not difficult to understand what he's hinting at: in his opinion, you should've get rid of Cassis. athough never said out loud, your "brother's" dislike of your toy was ridiculously strong.

ah, men's jealousy!

"let him think what he wants. there are no big conclusions to be drawn from what I said anyway." – you tilt your head to the side, your eyes lazily scan the walls of the dungeon. he just nods and continues to walk beside you in silence.

Dion never asked too much, never doubted any of your actions, never poked his nose where it should not be. you certainly raised him well. no, even exceeded your own expectations.

what a good boy.

mom yelled at me for almost a hour and I wanna curl up and die 🤩

thanks for reading!!

[theheadstones]

The Exit

Jasper H. Whitlock Rated Mature Summary: Not much was known about Adelaide Alden or the mysterious man who's been spotted lurking in her shadow. They say she appeared in town overnight and took little Forks by storm as if she's been there all along- by the time she disappears it's too late for the residents to realize they hadn't learned a thing about her. ('*' used to mark chapters with mature/violent content) an. leave a comment to join the tag list <3

The Index (0/9)

So Long -coming soon

It was as if she manifested overnight in that little cabin tucked away in the woods past the southwest river bend and the local reservation; that curious girl who acted as if she'd been one of Forks' own born-and-raised.

A Trip Worth Taking

Adelaide always seemed to know just how many times to deny a gift before accepting to maintain decorum; this sixth sense did not seem to apply to creatures watching her resting in the woods.

The Alter

Adelaide made quite a few promises in her time up north; to friends old and new alike, some were much more lenient on her timing than others. Still she always made good on her word, and it was about time someone devoted some of themselves to her in turn.

Of Mice And Mince*

The fact that she was beautiful was the first thing most of the town knew of her; that she was a classical beauty who looked like she stepped right from a painting. They say she looked best in red.

Hunter's Prayer*

Still recovering from her brush with not-so-certain death, Addie drops off the face of the earth and leaves the wreckage in her wake. She may not know what to make of the madness seemingly all around her, but she always knew when to get the hell out of dodge.

Fallacies & Fantasy

For a girl who thrived in secrets and double-entendres, her memoir of a diary was surprisingly easy to find. There in ink laid her every inner thought ripe for the reading. He wasn't going to; honest to God, but with the timer running out and an ever-pushing sister, desperation was palpable around him.

Truth, Indeed

When Adelaide was little she had two younger siblings, a boy and a girl. The twins were three years her younger and thick as thieves with a penchant for trouble; but they always knew she'd be there to fix whatever chaos they'd caused.

The Ice*

It was a sickly thing, the babe she cared for. It held her fingers so tightly they crunched beneath the pressure, but it babbled and cried and looked at her like she was the world.

Of The Other Side*

Adelaide Alden didn't believe in living in fear of consequence, mostly because she never stuck around long enough to face them. In ten years from now they'll remember her as 'fearless' and 'wild,' as a girl who didn't let the world dull her fire. In forty she'll be a cautionary tale of wanting it all and more, how you won't realize until you're too far gone. In sixty she will fade from the last persons mind and be a faceless name in an archived yearbook and folk-stories passed on by the local reservation.

[chrislaplante]

BRONTE'S COMFORT LIST

comfort food(s): pizza, tortas “ahoga perros”, corn “at-home-street-style”, nachos, chicken nuggets, beef taquitos, lentils, etc.

comfort drink(s): honestly? water. lol horchata and coca cola.

comfort movie(s): the exorcist, the terminator, the exorcism of emily rose, split, drive, foxfire, brainscan, constantine, candyman, the rocky films, the ip man films, the star wars (eps 1-6 & rogue one) films, school of rock, donnie darko, 8 mile, the crow, gus van sant’s last days, jeepers creepers, awake, secret window, pet sematary (1&2), rosemary’s baby, my soul to take, child’s play, psycho, the texas chainsaw massacre (remake), jaws, scream, the craft, the lost boys, edward scissorhands, beetlejuice, the matrix, american werewolf in london, the cabinet of dr caligari, zodiac, red dragon, rambo/first blood, insidious (1,2&5), the Halloween franchise, the Friday the 13th franchise, the a nightmare on elm street franchise (with remake), the evil dead (& remake), gremlins, ghostbusters (1&2), silent night deadly night, the amityville horror, my friend dahmer, murder by numbers, sinister, twister, twisted nerve, natural born killers, behind the mask, the sixth sense, Alice in wonderland, peter pan, dumbo, bambi, the land before time, the sword in the stone, the aristocats, the beauty and the beast, etc.

comfort show(s): bob’s burgers, dexter, sons of anarchy, 21 jump street, renegade, stephen king’s rose red, salem’s lot, american horror story (first two seasons), tales from the crypt, daria, catfish, the twilight zone, criminal minds, the x files, the green hornet, etc.

comfort clothing: ripped jeans, baggy (oversized) tees, baggy (oversized) hoodies, cargo pants and shorts, plaid button-ups, sweatpants (joggers), overall pants, long socks, sneakers, combat boots, trench coats, “grandpa” or “80s dad” sweaters, bunny slippers, sandals with socks, the occasional dress or romper, etc.

comfort song(s): what’s up (4 non blondes), stan (eminem), vampires will never hurt you (mcr), darkside (bring me the horizon), disgusting semla (morbid), one (metallica), the hunger (distillers), burn (the cure), oye mi amor (mana), afuera (caifanes), jeremy (pearl jam), numb (linkin park), nightcall (kavinsky), etc.

comfort book(s): red dragon, the wasp factory, frankenstein, damien echols’ autobiography, darkly dreaming dexter, joyland (sk), into the wild, the jedi quest book series, the i am not a serial killer book series, the crow (comic), the exorcist, salem’s lot, drive, constantine (film novelization), hellblazer (comics), per yngve ohlin (clem petit-huguenin), lots of old dh darth vader comic runs, etc.

comfort game(s): battleship, guess who, perfection, operation, ouija, “baseball” (card game), checkers, chinese checkers, puzzles, dark lore, the golden ticket, duck hunt, hog.warts legacy, etc.

stolen from: @walkeddeath. framing: @k4rlsson, @freakarus, @strigoix / @miercolaes, @morb1dg1rl, @wastrels, @liraspins, @likeorpheus, @stringmastery, @hangtenn, @nuks, @andtheylive, @absentpublic, @00sgoth, @punkzombie, @popularmxnster, @mrdelroy, @allevils, @getslashed, @bloodykneestm, @helvehte, @helltoraise, @facepeeled, @cheekypriest, @v011d, @roznrot, @poisonedfire, @butscrewmefirst, @notimminent, @sweets1n, @daensuse, @horrorface, + you.

[starwarsmum]

Maribat Mix & Match Monster Mash day 5, Has Anyone Told You How Creepy You Are? & Haunted

It was Halloween and Marinette wished she wasn't on duty on the Watchtower. She normally would be out with her friends, a bunch of them having decided to tour the Manoir de Paris, an old textile factory turned wax museum turned haunted house. It was supposed to be terrifying and Marinette had long since wanted to go.

But, unfortunately, as it was her first year at the Watchtower, she had to be on duty, which was easier if she was there. She sighed as she watched Chat Noir, her partner, chatted happily with the vigilante from Gotham, Nightwing. They were getting along like a house on fire, punning reflexively and it made Marinette want to shove her fist in her mouth and scream.

“What's up, Buginette?” Chat asked at last, when her latest meaningful sigh passed through his pun-contest bubble. She shrugged, not feeling like explaining her feeling of melancholy. But he understood anyway - they'd been partners for so long, it was hard not to have a sixth sense for what the other was thinking. “Ah, Halloween. C'mon Bug, it's just one year. Besides, look, Nightwing decorated up here too!”

“It's not the same, kitty. Not that I don't want to be here,” she said hastily, for Nightwing’s benefit. He chuckled, waving a dismissive hand for her to continue. “It's just that Halloween is so much fun and our friends are out tonight and we can't be.”

“Yeah, that does suck. Hey, why don't I tell you a ghost story from Gotham?” Nightwing said, perking up. Chat cheered and Marinette scooted closer, intrigued. “Okay, so, a long time ago, there lived a boy named Jason Todd. He was a street rat, raised by his mother until the age of twelve when a wealthy benefactor took him in.

“But the benefactor had a dark secret, and Jason found it out. He lived with the man for three years until Jason died, tragically, under mysterious circumstances. The man took in another child, but Jason’s spirit haunted the halls of their home. And one night, the new child was playing and found Jason's name scrawled in a book. He spoke it aloud, and his new home grew chill. He spoke it a second time and the lights flickered.

“Before he could say it a third time, his benefactor stopped him, demanding to know what was going on. The child was confused, but did as he was told. But he told others of the strange happenings, and they spread the word, as people do. And they say, if you say Jason's name three times, without interruption, his ghost will appear to haunt you, and take revenge against the man who killed him.”

There was a silence thick with tension that followed the end of the tale until Chat gave a low whistle and told Nightwing he would make an excellent performer. This made Nightwing very amused and he suggested that they could watch a scary movie to pass the time, if they wanted.

So when the next Halloween approached, and Marinette wasn't on guard duty at the Watchtower, she knew immediately what she wanted to do. She rang around all of her friends and suggested they take a trip to Gotham for Halloween, to find a gothic graveyard and tell horror stories.

It went better than she could have hoped, each of her friends sounding enthusiastic about the plans. She chose a Red Riding Hood costume template and got to work on it immediately. By the time Halloween actually arrived, she was pleased with the result and dressed herself eagerly. 

Once she was fully ready, she met up with the others at Chloé's penthouse and Max made them a portal so they could visit Gotham without dealing with long flights. She justified it to herself by saying that they would be going home before the morning, but she knew it was very on the edge of being responsible with the Miraculous.

She and Adrien had conspired to tell the Story of Jason Todd with a few flairs thrown in. Once everyone was settled, she suggested someone tell a story and the night passed slowly, with gruesome tales, some of them classics, like the White Lady of Chateau de Brissac, and some that were fabrications (Nino, notably told an excellently spooky one). When it was finally Marinette's turn, she told her story.

“...and they say, if you say his name three times in a row, his ghost appears. And on a night like tonight, when the veil is thinnest, he can appear any time, any place.” Marinette concluded her story and focused on not looking at Adrien.

“Jason Todd…” a voice crept through the graveyard, hissing low. The group fell into a dead silence, people glancing left and right nervously. It hissed again, “Jason Todd…” Alya was gripping tight to Nino’s wrist now, pale but scared to move. Fog began to creep along the ground as they heard, a third time, “Jason Todd…”

“What the fuck are you all doing out here?”

Pandemonium erupted, screams and sobbing all around. Marinette leapt to her feet, electrified. Standing in the shadows nearby was freaking Red Hood, his helmet glinting in the candlelight. He looked annoyed and slightly confused, if a person in a helmet could show emotions. 

Suddenly, a blur leaped at Red Hood, knocking him off his feet with a grunt. Standing above the helmeted vigilante was Alix, who had a scythe as part of her costume and was using it to smack said helmet repeatedly.

“Everyone freeze,” Marinette screeched, grabbing hold of the scythe and yanking it out of the smaller woman's grip. “Mon dieu, Hood, has anyone told you how creepy you can be? What on earth possessed you to crash a ghost story right at the climax?”

“You mean, why would I approach a bunch of people sitting in a graveyard, all in weird costumes with a fucking smoke machine? In Gotham?” Red Hood barked back, hauling himself into a sitting position. “Do you all have any idea how often I've had to stop a fucking sacrifice because creeps think it'll give them power?” 

“...I suppose that's warranted,” Marinette said sheepishly, twirling the scythe nervously. She had been so excited about the idea of suitably scaring her friends that she hadn't considered what the resident protectors of Gotham would think about their little party. “I'm sorry, Monsieur Hood.”

“Sure thing, you're clearly not from around here, so I'll let it slide this once, gorgeous,” he said, winking at her. Marinette flushed, dropping the scythe in her fluster. She had always thought that Red Hood was attractive, ever since she had first run into him on the Watchtower, but he had never tried to flirt with her as Ladybug. “But maybe you should-”

The speaker flared back into life, starting its ominous muttering again and Red Hood froze as if something was personally hunting him. Spluttering an apology, Marinette turned the speaker off and the second ‘Jason Todd' was cut short. His helmet stayed pointing towards her as she picked it up and glanced back at him sheepishly once more.

“It was just supposed to be some Halloween fun,” Marinette offered halfheartedly. She tugged nervously on her hood, hoping he would stop staring at her. If he even was, seriously, that helmet was very intimidating when she wasn't in a super suit.

“What story were you telling?” He seemed genuinely baffled, so Marinette launched into an explanation of how her colleague friend had told her the story the previous year, and that she had heard it originated from Gotham and she wanted to have a proper Halloween for a change. 

She was pretty sure she was rambling by the end, her heart in her throat but he didn't say anything about it all. He merely muttered something before reminding them to stay safe, and leaving. 

“Amazing party, Mari,” Kim said, giving her a thumbs up.

_ _ _

Jason sat on a roof, staring out at the city moodily. He was used to dealing with idiots on Halloween, but a whole bunch of young adults, telling ghost stories? And, apparently, telling a greatly edited story of his demise. He was still in a surly mood when Dick came and joined him.

“You alright Red Hood?” He said cheerily, sitting down next to him and swinging his feet. Jason shrugged and debated whether it was worth picking a fight with Dick over it. “Man, I wish I was on the Watchtower this year, I had so much fun telling the French heroes a ghost story.”

“Man, you wouldn't have told them the ‘ghost story’ about Jason Todd, would you?” He asked suspiciously, suddenly sure that that was how the cute French chick had ended up hearing about it. When Dick went silent, Jason knew he was right. “Dude, that spread to some civilians! And there was a super hot chick dressed as red riding hood telling it. So now, if I ever meet her as a civilian, I can't tell her my name! You suck.”

“Sorry man, I didn't think it would spread! Besides, I'm sure someone will work out that it's just a rip-off of Beetlejuice, I wasn't exactly subtle.” Dick was apologetic but it didn't help Jason at all. He sighed, thinking dejectedly about cute girls in pigtails and short skirts.

[goose-books]

please check out @yvesdot's remastered debut! trust me, it's worth a read and a reread and a re-revisit. for the blog tour, i give you... another blast from the past, an old-fashioned writeblr-style comic sans powerpoint!

Something’s Not Right, published by tRaum Books, will be released October 10th 2023 and is available to preorder at Amazon, Bookshop.org, and itch.io. It will also be available upon release signed from Bookshop Santa Cruz. yves. will also have a local event at 6:30 PM on October 12th at the Santa Cruz Diversity Center and another on January 4th 2024 (to be announced) at Bookshop Santa Cruz.

(my sixth favorite story is koschei, btw. shoutout to koschei. sorry i left you off the slides)

(slides described under the cut)

all slides are written in white comic sans on a black background.

slide one: text reading "FIVE reasons YOU should read" over a cropped image of the cover for Something's Not Right, featuring the title. smaller comic sans next to the image reads "by yves."

slide two: at the center of the slide, text reads "1. IT'S GAY!" smaller text boxes, scattered around the slide, read:

so many transgender people

you want fluff? we got fluff. you want angst? we got angst. you want high octane drama? we got it

you like metaphors for queerness? we’ve got metaphors for queerness

some characters’ identities are plot relevant! some of them just happen to be trans!

there’s even an m/f couple i actually like!

there’s literally a lesbian robot what else am i supposed to say

first book where i ever saw a they/them lesbian referred to as a woman and they at the same time <3 <3 <3

you want monsterfucking? we got—

between the first and third boxes is this image of feathers. beneath the monsterfucking box is this image of a halo/eclipse. beneath the they/them lesbian box is the anakin image from this post, reading, "dyke business. go back to your drinks"

slide three: the top of the slide reads "2. CLEVER USE OF TROPES AND TALES." the bullet points beneath read:

the author was a lit major & lovingly: it shows

fresh takes on everything from sexy vampires to demigod/human romance

do you like russian folklore? do you wish it was set in your high school

hansel and gretel story followed immediately by wlw fairies

STORY WHERE VICTOR FRANKENSTEIN GOES TO A PARENT TEACHER CONFERENCE

an arrow points from the sexy vampire bullet to an image of edward cullen, captioned "this guy isn't in there." another points from the frankenstein bullet to a picture of the book Frankenstein, captioned "this guy is, tho"

slide four: at the center of the slide, text reads "3. DELIGHTFUL NARRATIVE VOICE." smaller text boxes read "the sheer range of the range of character narrations in this book is impressive and so fun" and "we got teen talk we got litfic prose we got monsters narrating we got ordinary people." there are also three quotes from various stories, set in speech bubbles:

“Everyone’s cousin Tanya says she’s done it with an elf dude. That doesn’t mean shit.”

“And all of these things were true, and simultaneous, and all of them were occurring only a moment before she might be killed, and rise again.”

“At first, the plants seemed quite innocuous, and Ephraim watched them pile up on the windows of the little greenhouse with mild curiosity.”

there is also an edited image of the "she doesn't have the range" meme, reading, "they have the range."

slide five: the top of the slide reads "4. DON’T LIKE ONE-OFFS? NO PROBLEM!" the bullet points beneath read:

do you prefer your short stories unrelated to each other? completely tonally variant?

SNR has got that!

do you prefer your short stories interconnected? do you like recurring characters? do you want to see… characters from OTHER yves. projects?

SNR has got that too!

smaller text boxes read "Red and Eliza from Forest Castles are there!" and "maybe avner too. i'm not allowed to say"

there is also a picture of hannah montana's "best of both worlds" album.

slide six: the top of the slide reads "5. THERE ARE NEW STORIES IN IT!" the bullet points beneath read:

already an SNR fan? already have a copy? you haven’t yet read the new content!

THREE new stories

what if the alien abductee you were interviewing had questions… for you?

what if you had to love-potion your crush… for someone else?

what if you had to come out to your date… AS A MONSTER?

there are clipart images on the side of an alien spaceship, a bubbling potion, and a lit candle.

slide seven: word art with a glowing green shadow reads "max's favorite stories :)". each story blurb goes with a corresponding image:

Six Hours Under: the woman on the L train is crying, dead, and very very pretty. [clipart of a train]

Monsters and The Guy: there’s a guy in Arrivals. he’s being weird about it. [clipart of an airport]

The Hands and The Mouth: the story-speakers speak only in script. there are only a few of them left. [clipart of rolling waves]

Don't Feel Guilty: a teen’s plant collection starts to unnerve their father. [clipart of a leaf]

Blood Orange Tea: getting trapped at work with your crush is awkward even when you’re not a vampire. [clipart of iced tea]

slide eight: large text reads "THANK YOU. GO FORTH AND BUY SNR." in smaller text is the information paragraph from this post.

[glaciertea]

Masterlist here

Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.23<< >>Ch.25

Notes: He realizes his mistake...

Chapter 24: I'm With You Throughout It, Choose... Busted and Blue

Word count: 3.5K

There he was, locked in his bedroom, languishing all that had taken place.

The room was dark; nothing was able to be seen in or out of it. The only noises that were made in the room were his soft breathing or his footsteps when he got up to stretch his legs.

After the ordeal with Spot, things were a bit difficult at the HQ. Word certainly spreads quickly. The building could be close to ten thousand stories high, but everyone will know everything within a span of six minutes or less. From the whispering disdain to the raucous doubts from the spiders, Miguel was in scalding hot waters, and no one was willing to pull him out.

Peter, Miles, and Gwen ended up using Lyla to present to the hollow man their experiences and scientific research on what they detected during the whole exhibition. Nobody else bothered to show, not planning to deal with Miguel's reactions.

Though some of them wanted to see the look on his face when he was told that he's wrong with concrete evidence, they didn't have the patience or care left for it.

Miguel's sullen eyes glazed when he saw Miles and Gwen's world still standing. The reason why Mayday even exists is because of Miles himself. All of it was flashed and clarified left and right.

It didn't make it any better either when that itch that forever trapped him in turmoil vanished after everything essentially settled down. Now his inner conflicts battered him even more.

Was that sixth sense truly for you? Was this red herring he'd been following for months on end—this entity that's been swallowing him whole this entire time—meant for you? or for the Spot and the damn collapse of the canon? 

He didn't want to believe it, but it disappeared when he came back to the apartment that first night. 

It was all too much.

Halfway through, he wordlessly stood up and sluggishly stepped out of his office, leaving the three clouded and lost. They didn't go after him, as much as Gwen wanted to hammer it into his thick skull.

“Kinda unfair how he leisurely walks away after what he did to you.”

Miles could only shrug. “As long as he understands that he's in control of his future, I guess I can forgive.”

Days crawled by, as Miguel wasn't in the public eye. Somehow, less than before. A handful of spiders did question the main crew who was at the incident, what became of Miguel, and what exactly would happen to the society.

Most went about their lives and, rightfully, weren't ready to really go back to this life. Peter took charge by being an unofficial spokesman, reassuring that they would find a way to refurbish what the society primitively stood for. 

He ended up begging Jess to become the new leader because she knew the highs and lows and the ins and outs of the establishment. She was reluctant with the offer, and Peter acknowledged it, noting to take her time and giving her the much-needed space to relax and prepare for the birth of her child.

And as for his old boss? Not even Peter knew where he was.

But he was still there. Hearing in on all the discussions about this place. He couldn't bear to show his face. Riddled with guilt and utter anguish, he had to hide from the ambivalent conflicts he created.

Lyla was, of course, the only one to be aware of his presence, but she promised to keep his location a secret. So whenever Peter B. or anybody else remotely asks if she can track him down, she raises her arms and waves them in front of her face.

“Not even I can find him, and I'm this super-intelligent creation,” was the go-to excuse.

A couple tried to contact him; even Peter got Jess to attempt, but despite her dangling this grudge over him, she gave it several tries and turned up empty-handed each and every time.

Miguel would let the watch go off for a bit before managing to sever all communications from everyone. Now, when they would try, the line would go dead straightaway. He simply couldn't do it.

It got to the bottom line, where they gave up on their search. There were some braver ones to stop by his apartment, but their spider senses would flare up, ultimately making that area a ‘no trespassing’ zone. The speculation of him hiding in there did rise, but died down when Lyla broadcasted fake recordings of the empty rooms whenever they held suspicion. Going as far as to even make it appear as life footage.

He was grateful for her and her effort.

Miguel didn't know how to face them. He couldn't eat; nightmares kept him up for the long nights, and his thoughts made sure to go into overdrive. It got to a point where he couldn't take the silence or even his own breathing. He added music to the ambience, thankful you allowed him to keep them. It did help preserve some of his sanity—whatever was left of it.

As different chords and harmonies filled the air, he lay up with a baleful stare at the ceiling. His head was rampaging, and his ears took in every note, letting it settle into his flesh and bones. He let thoughts run out in the wild, not caring what they breached.

The canon; all he sacrificed... his osita.

You.

You were one of the main ones he didn't bother to try and push away in his rifling mindscape unpleasantries. In fact, you never left.

He didn't notice you texted him right away. The first couple of nights, he crashed hard onto his mattress and slept, allowing his body to recover.

Then the flood of messages poured in, and he would only stare at the first few words and swipe away each one once you sent. He couldn't do it.

He didn't have the right words to say or how to accept your worries and concerns. It scared him, and it terrifies him that you still have this gentle spot for him after all he has done to you. It wasn't fair; it's not fair that he couldn't fully give you what you wanted.

Each message you gave chipped away at his already destroyed heart. Yet he would mentally respond to them with a very distant reassurance. He didn't have the courage to face you, even though he wanted to.

He didn't deserve your emphatic words, but damn it, did he want to read them? He held an urge to see what he had fully said to him. Hour after hour, day by day, he wouldn't click. He would only wait with full anticipation when your face popped up on the screen. It was some cruel punishment he bestowed upon himself. An infliction that he truly deserved.

Then one day, he finally clicked and scrolled up to read. His wants swelled for you, and his desires to reach out were strong, though he resisted.

Every day, he clutched onto your words, desperately needing something to keep him sane. Like before, he kept his phone on your screen, only clicking out when you began to text, because his cowardice got in the way. He would only go back and read the new ones when he knew you'd be busy with your job.

He was indeed a true coward, but he wasn't going to cause any more grievances towards you.

He was scared to bring you down anymore. So all he could do was watch from afar.

Then one day, they stopped coming in. A spear of despair and anxiety pierced through him, aimlessly waiting for you to contact him. His knee would bounce at unsteady tempos, or he would pace across the room, his phone propped up, eyeing the screen for the three bubbles to pop up.

“Please… please, mi Luna.”

Nothing came from you. Not a single peep. 

And yet, he still believed he deserved it. He drove away the last piece of love he had left, and there wasn't much he could do.

He had nothing.

Eventually, after a few weeks, he began to sneak out of his apartment, taking air shafts and hallways that no one knew up to his office. He still missed his osita and would go chat with her for a couple of hours before heading back. He was able to spew whatever he wanted off his chest with no hassle because the space was barricaded and blocked off from the others.

He only knew it was because he eavesdropped on a discussion between Peter, Jess, and a few spiders about what to do with his section. 

Jess was visiting, showing off photos of her baby boy, Gerry. Peter B. couldn't control his excitement, gushing about all the playdates Gerry and Mayday could have, and the rest cooed, congratulating the new spider-mom. 

Topics lead down one road to another; things are tossed in here and there, and the discourse of Jess leading came into play. The ones surrounding her commended her for being more level-headed and comprehensible in how she handles situations. Overall better fit to be a leader.

Miguel's eye did twitch, but he bottled it up.

Debates were thrown about what to exactly do when Hobie suggested they tear it down and turn it into something more impactful. A statement of some sort. Agreements did weave their way into the air when Peter suggested they leave it. They raised their eyes and eyebrows at that, arguing why they wouldn't want to leave a place of bad memories and faith up if they decided to move forward.

And his rebuttal was simple.

“It is still technically his world. We can't really hijack all of his stuff. He created it, and yes, we may now have some… unrequited sentiments about the office; we should at least leave something more personal for him if he ever decides to return.”

Some were on board, a couple opposed, but after a few more convincing statements and negotiations, they obliged to keep it, and it's up to the person if they want to try and meander down in that direction.

Miguel was slightly glad to have someone try to pull him out.

Only one monitor remained on, the others collecting bits of dust bunnies because there was no reason to have them up anymore. Miguel rambling to Gabi felt oddly therapeutic in a sense. He knew she would be one of the last few to judge him.

Well, possibly the only one. His eyes did occasionally wander over to you. He was only able to watch a few seconds of the video before clicking it off. He did still have your messages open, waiting for you.

He doesn't know exactly how much time has passed by either. He knew it still had to be summer because of the time stamps from you, but this season felt more bleak, with more gray clouds above, covering up the skies. Where was the beacon of light? And even if it were to have been shown, would he have merited that warmth?

All he knew was that this was all he had left. Those couple of hours turned into days, residing next to the one and only monitor. Blanket near him, falling asleep to the sounds of laughter. If this was now going to be his future, then so be it. He would take the mass, doing whatever self-reflection would get him by. Or was it self-pity? He decided to go with the latter.

Lyla would eye his deteriorating state, teleporting foods next to him, but not much communication came from her end. She went on helping the others reprogram and rebuild the HQ, mostly being around Jess, who did consider leading and reestablishing the structure.

All seemed to fall into line. They omitted to seek out Miguel anymore, the spider-beings thrilled at the now-new endless possibilities after learning that they don't have to conform to and rely on this made-up entity. A new beginning was starting for them all, and they couldn't have been happier to be able to control their future.

And there was one who wanted everyone to have a future of their own. Everyone.

Miguel sat on his knees, perched up on his control panel, his eyes going back and forth between the hanging screens. He was slowly dozing off when he heard a certain sound coming from behind.

��I figured you would've been hiding in here.”

Miguel discreetly straightened up, forcing himself awake, and continued to blankly gaze into the blacked-out PCs around him. He pretended not to register Peter, but at this point, it didn't matter if he did. Nothing mattered.

“You know hiding away for months on end isn't the best way to handle your problems.” He climbed up on the platform, dropping to his knees, and turned to the flashing images. “There have to be days when you combat them.”

Miguel didn't vocalize a single sound; only his placid breathing was the only thing escaping from him.

“Lyla told me you would be up here. Don't worry, she made sure to catch me when I was alone.” He ruffled his own hair and lightly chuckled. “Her and Jess have been chit-chatting about new implementations and all.” Peter's eyes scanned for any change of emotion, but nothing was coming from it. So, he kept going.

“Yeah, she's been busy with that, so she asked me if I could be the one checking in on you. I honestly felt honored when she asked me after all that happened, but hey.” He raised his arms above his head and yawned. “Speaking of Jess, her son Gerry is so adorable. Not as adorable as my Mayday, but he's definitely up there.”

He knew Miguel wasn't going to open up so easily. He had already mentally prepared himself when he was making his way. It didn't have anything planned, but he felt that was the best way to come about this. To speak from the heart more than the mind. 

Peter believed that's what he needed. He doesn't need a worker or anything grandiose. He needs a friend to just talk to him and tell him how it is. And there was definitely a lot to unpack, so Peter let whatever his thoughts came out in slow, moving low tides.

“You know what? It's okay. It's okay, Miguel. We fuck up sometimes. I know I definitely did during that whole thing.” Peter frowned when he thought back to how he hurt and betrayed Miles, but he pushed on. “I mean, mine was bad, of course, but you fucked up in the worst possible of ways—but you'll get through this.” 

Miguel tilted his head with a burning sense of death in his eyes before going back to his osita.

“I know it's not the best way of looking at it, but it's true. Everyone keeps trying to out you as this sort of liar, but I have to remind them that you didn't build it on this lie.” He twisted his body to look at the entrance and settled on the bottom before choosing to lie down on the metallic floor. “You built it up on your paranoia. Your fears.”

His muscles tensed at that. Was it his fears? The canon was always a subject that seemed correct and made a ton of sense. One thing leads to another, and so on and so forth. A very structural ‘A’ goes to ‘B,’ and ‘B’ to ‘C.’ So was it truly his constant anxiety about wanting to keep billions alive? Was it not him merely trying to do the right thing that kept this idea up and running?

He turns to your minimized video in the corner and thinks about the night he ended it with you. That was him doing the right thing. Right?

“Miguel, I know you don't like hearing the same thing over and over, but I feel like you're going to need it.” Peter got more comfortable, intertwining his fingers together and placing them behind his head. “It's okay to be scared of the unknown, but now it's up to you if you want to face them head-on. The world is a big place, and the future is an endless zone of things that can be great.”

His eyes shut, enjoying the peacefulness of silence. It has been eventful for Peter, so it was nice for him to take it easy for a bit. “I know it must be hard. To believe in this one thing for so long only to have it proved wrong. Not to add insult to injury, by the way.” Miguel didn't bother to look down.

“But it can be an eye-opener to come at these things differently, and that's what I believe you need.” Peter grunted, sitting back up, letting his legs dangle and his mouth roam free. “You're so used to control, so used to having this hold to make sure things run smoothly, but if you were to look closely, you could see the serrated lines in the seams of the walls. Those cracks were creating a rift in the structure.”

Peter cocked his head before gesturing to Miguel to take a seat when he saw the corner of that red iris.

Miguel brought up the holoscreen and sank down next to Peter. He and Gabi were front and center, as the video with you two stayed hidden in a corner. All that was created and caused, all the blood on his hands—was it for nothing?

“Do you think... Do you think people like me deserve this? Another chance at life.”

Peter puffed out a huge gust of air and ran his fingers through his scruffy hair. “I mean, I would believe so.” He glanced at the child and then towards a familiar face and Miguel, when a determined gleam covered his face. “You know what? Yes. People who have been lost for so long and are wanting to change do deserve a second chance. I was given that second chance after running and doing so much damage that, after Miles and all that happened, I realized that I could have that too.”

He straightened up his stance, that driven look never leaving.

“And you can too. It'll have to start with you needing to make amends. From Miles to Jess, hell, nearly everyone in this place.” Peter eyed the holoscreen with him when his view landed back on your face. “And you need to make them with the person who was helping you break open. Who is willing to take a peek at those walls.”

“She would have looked deep into it.”

“So that wall was a shield. Maybe those cracks needed to make a rift to break down and see the full thing.” Peter grinned when his friend started laughing in front of the camera.

Peter was always the advocate for Miguel because a certain spider taught him he could see the potential in others once they put that faith in them. And he was always ready to see Miguel at his highest points that he could get to.

There was silence for a while as he expanded the video, having him and Gabi in the corner. His eyes never left you. His thoughts never deserted you. You were willing to stand by him and walk beside him. Those gentle and genuine eyes, that love you held for him. 

The love he holds for you always shines.

“You don't have to let the past dictate a huge chunk of you. It's how you go about handling these things, you know?”

Miguel twisted his neck, his heart thumping and his mouth agape. The gawking stare made Peter shift, but he realized what he said. 

“Go to her. You have a lot to do and fix, but I think this would be a good start. She would be a good start to the future for you. Learn to be a better you. It's never too late to start.”

He didn't know what to say; he couldn't think of the right words, but Peter was possibly right. Possibly.

He could possibly get one thing right.

“Do you think she'll even want me back?” But the self-doubt was still heavily engraved.

“That's something you're going to have to seek the answer to for yourself. There is no fancy algorithm or canon to decode that.” Peter brushed some lint off his robe and smiled.

“Now go get cleaned. You reek, buddy.” He patted his back and waved his hand in front of his face. “I'll still keep your location hidden until you're ready to face the rest.” Peter stood up, pulled Miguel on his feet, and put his hands in the pockets of his bathrobe.

“Tell her I said hey, and that Mayday wants to hang out again.” 

The giant nodded before pulling him into a hug. “Thank you, Peter.” 

“Of course. But please, go shower. I actually prefer you smelling like too many coffees and stale empanadas.” He gently removed himself and patted his shoulders.

Opening up a portal for him to go freshen up, Peter gave him a thumbs-up and a wink. “Take care of yourself and do for yourself.”

Miguel was going to hold on to those words. He knew he should.

There was more to this, and he wanted to grab it. He wanted it. And he was going to make these mistakes right. 

He was going to make this wrong... right. 

One string fell loose.

[mattnben-bennmatt]

Matt Damon and Ben Affleck's interview w/ Premiere (January 1998)

Boston Uncommon

Bean Town natives Matt Damon and Ben Affleck return home to shoot Good Will Hunting, a tale of growing pains, friendship, and dazzling talent. It might just be the story of their own lives.

By John Brodie

-

Ben Affleck pilots a Jeep Cherokee through the backstreets of Cambridge, Massachusetts. July twilight turns the red brick buildings around Harvard Square a fiery shade of orange. The Mighty, Mighty Bosstones play as Affleck, with his younger brother, Casey, and Matt Damon, gives a guided tour of their childhood haunts: Rocco's Place; the One Thousand and One Plays video arcade; the spot near the Weld Boathouse where a teenage Damon stripped and swam across a river famous for its dirty water; and Hi-Fi Pizza, which was always closing just as Damon and Affleck would show up for a late-night slice. "I was there a few days ago, and the guys behind the counter were, like, 'You're Chasing Amy! You're Chasing Amy!' " says Affleck, doing his best impersonation of the counterman's Indian accent. "And so I say, 'Yes, yes. I am. Now how 'bout a slice?' And they say, 'No, sorry, Mr. Chasing Amy, we're closed.' "

Tree-lined streets give way to the gray stone of the Cambridge Rindge and Latin School's modern campus. As Affleck parks the car by their high school theater, Damon can no longer contain himself. "Say, Ben," he taunts, "why don't you tell us about the time you played the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland?"

"Yup, I was the zany, hookah-smoking caterpillar," Affleck says, gearing up for a cutting contest. "I chose to play the role wrapped in garbage bags held together by Scotch tape. Now, if I were to play that caterpillar today, I might do it another way."

"It was an underrated performance," says 22-year-old Casey. "Those trash bags were a bold choice."

"So, Matt, why don't you favor us with your version of 'Morning Glory' from Pippin?" says 25-year-old Ben, letting loose a left-right (Bob Fosse-Stephen Schwartz) slight to Damon's virility. Damon holds in his comeback until the Jeep is in motion and they pass his childhood home. Affleck's house is two blocks away, and as boys, he and Damon often walked to school together — even though Damon was two years older.

"Ben used to ring my bell and then cower on the other side of the street, because he was afraid of the little kids at this school right next door," Damon says and flashes a toothy smile as Affleck stops him midsentence.

"This was a delinquent school and all the kids were smoking cigarettes," Affleck says, as he quickly pulls around the corner and arrives at his mom's blue townhouse on Cottage Street. He is hoping to point out his birthplace and be on his way when he is waylaid by his mother, who, unimpressed by the presence of a journalist, wants to know when he plans on returning her Jeep.

"Are you going to be home for dinner?" the sixth-grade public-school teacher asks her son. "Mom, you're banned from talking to the press since you told the story about how I used to play with a Wonder Woman doll," Affleck warns, striding into the kitchen for a hug and a sample of freshly prepared guacamole.

Damon and Affleck could be any pair of twentysomething slackers enjoying a late summer idyll, but by the weekend, the hookah-smoking caterpillar will be heading west to costar with Bruce Willis in the megabuck asteroid movie Armageddon, and Mr. Morning Glory will be on a plane to England, where he will play the title role in Saving Private Ryan, opposite Tom Hanks, adding Steven Spielberg's name to the list of directors (Francis Ford Coppola, Gus Van Sant) with whom he has worked over the past year.

This summer has been a last gasp of childhood for the pair. They recently finished production on Miramax's Good Will Hunting, an ensemble drama Damon and Affleck co-wrote before leaving Harvard and Occidental College, respectively, roughly four years ago. The movie, due out at Christmas and directed by To Die For's Van Sant, is already being touted as Oscar bait. Damon stars as a South Boston juvenile delinquent who works as a janitor at MIT and just happens to be an unschooled mathematics genius; the Affleck brothers play two of his Southie pals; and Robin Williams plays it straight as the shrink who helps Damon's working-class hero realize his potential.

That this pet project should come to fruition with such strong Hollywood backing reflects the sudden industry heat on the young actors' careers. But Damon and Affleck have been together every step of the way — and they depend on each other to keep things real. "There's an emotional core to Good Will Hunting that came from Ben and Matt," says Williams, who plays therapist Sean McGuire with a gravitas similar to that of Dead Poets Society. "They have this unspoken twins thing. They care for each other, yet they bust on each other. And that was a great bass line to work with. I'm very proud of this movie. It has a resonance."

On November 13, 1994, the Good Will Hunting script became the object of an intense bidding war in Hollywood. Damon was living in a shabby two-bedroom house with a buddy from high school. Affleck was sleeping on his sofa, having fled a busted engagement back East. This was long before the actors' careers would simultaneously pick up speed — Affleck's thanks to Chasing Amy and Going All the Way, Damon's with Courage Under Fire and The Rainmaker.

Never during their shared childhood had they imagined that November day's outcome. "When the phone started ringing, we were ready to take the first offer, which was $15,000," Affleck says. "After each call," Damon says, "we were yelling at our agent, Patrick Whitesell, 'Take it! Just take the offer!' Then there was this moment when the phone rang and Patrick picked it up. It was for my roommate, and it was this girl he had dated in college, and my roommate was, like, 'Hey, how are you?' And we were, like, 'Hang the fuckin' phone up!' He was really bummed, because they hadn't talked in three years."

By dusk, Chris Moore, a friend with whom they had developed the script, burst through the door with a bottle of Cristal under his arm — a bottle he had been given when he left agenting and told not to open until his new life as a producer started. Moore popped the cork when Castle Rock's bid came in that evening: The studio offered Damon and Affleck more than $1 million for their script as well as their services as actors. They spent that night drinking at Damon's house.

Getting Good Will Hunting into production was less of a party: The script, director, and studio would all change before it reached the screen. The plot at the time of the sale was more of a thriller, with Will's mathematical powers attracting the unwanted interest of evil government agents. In the beginning, Affleck and Damon also talked about such movies as Ordinary People, Searching for Bobby Fischer, and Midnight Run as touchstones. Castle Rock partner Rob Reiner told them to lose the thriller element and concentrate on the relationship between Will and his psychiatrist. William Goldman, a sachem of the screenwriting trade, coached them as well. Even reclusive director Terrence Malick (Badlands) came out of his shell for a meeting and suggested ways in which Will's love interest, a Harvard med student named Skylar, could become a catalyst for his decision to leave Boston.

Then came the sticking point: Damon and Affleck heard that Castle Rock bigwig Andrew Scheinman wanted to direct. Considering that Scheinman's oeuvre consisted of Little Big League, Damon and Affleck were loath to turn their baby over to him. Rather than force the actors to work with Scheinman, Castle Rock's senior executives took the high road and gave them 90 days to set up the project at another studio. If they failed, the movie would go forward with any director Castle Rock dictated.

Affleck and Damon gave the script to Kevin Smith (director of Clerks and Chasing Amy), who pressed Miramax's cochairman Harvey Weinstein to look at Good Will Hunting as a possible producing vehicle for Smith's View Askew production company. After reading the script, Weinstein made one of Miramax's most expensive purchases at the time, paying Castle Rock slightly more than $1 million for the rights to Good Will Hunting.

Somewhere outside Needles, California, Christmas 1995, Ben Affleck's car phone started chirping. Damon was taking it easy in the passenger seat — still recovering from dropping 40 pounds for his junkie scenes in Courage Under Fire. Affleck, who dreads flying and frequently drives cross-country, was all poise when the voice on the other end said, "You have a meeting with Mel Gibson . . . in New York . . . in two days."

They spent much of the next 48 hours pounding coffee and quoting lines from Mad Max to each other as the Nevada desert faded into the Manhattan skyline. "We got to Miramax's offices just before our lunch," says Damon. "And Harvey tells us, 'Mel Gibson is a great director. You can see that from Braveheart.' And I said, 'Harvey, Ben and I have been working. We haven't seen it yet.' So without missing a beat, the head of Miramax sits there and says, 'Okay: Scotland, William Wallace.' And he told us the whole movie."

Gibson's involvement had a catch: He was just starting Ransom and would not be available for nearly a year, so Good Will Hunting would have to wait. Recalls Damon, "Mel was totally understanding when we said, 'This movie is our life. And we know you're, like, the biggest star in the world. But we need a decision.' '' He shudders now at the cockiness of it all. Gibson bowed out after two weeks.

Meanwhile, Van Sant had gotten his hands on the script and contacted Damon through Casey Affleck, who had appeared in To Die For. "I was attracted to the notion of Will trying to create a family," Van Sant says, observing that his movies (Drugstore Cowboy, My Own Private Idaho) have often depicted street kids struggling to forge an alternative home for themselves. Van Sant also started talking about the project with Williams, whom he knew slightly from years before, when the two were developing a biopic about slain gay San Francisco politician Harvey Milk.

Cambridge's Bow and Arrow pub has been dutifully re-created in a forgotten Toronto gin mill on a June morning. Affleck and actor Cole Hauser, who worked together in Dazed and Confused and School Ties, are in character as Chuckie and Billy, two Southies who have invaded a Harvard bar for the night. They play pop-a-shot basketball in one corner. "Brick!" yells Hauser in his best Bean Town accent. "Larry," coos Affleck as he emulates the last white Celtic legend's jump shot. Damon, as Will Hunting, sits with Casey Affleck, whose character, Morgan, completes the quartet of friends. They stare as Skylar, played by British actress Minnie Driver, approaches Will for the first time. The scene is meant to be a little cool, but neither Damon nor Driver can suppress grins. They furtively hold hands between setups. Damon, who in his brief career has earned a reputation as an on-set smoothie (after hooking up with The Rainmaker's Claire Danes), has struck again. The camera rolls and Skylar offers Will a crumpled piece of paper. "Here's my number," Driver says. "Maybe we could go out for coffee sometime?"

"Great, or maybe we could go somewhere and just eat a bunch of caramels," Damon says. "It's just as arbitrary as drinking coffee." Their eyes meet. The actors beam.

"Matt wasn't prepared for such a powerhouse acting against him," says producer Lawrence Bender of Driver, who auditioned by reading a love scene with Damon at New York's Soho Grand Hotel. "It was a scene where Will tells Skylar, 'I don't love you.' Matt literally had to stop the audition, apologize, and start over. There were five guys in the room and nobody wanted to look at one another because we had tears in our eyes."

Regardless of the extracurricular role she plays in Damon's life, Driver has become an expert at infiltrating close circles of male friends; she worked with Stanley Tucci and his screenwriter cousin Joseph Tropiano on Big Night, and played the chick-of-the-flick in Grosse Point Blank, which John Cusack wrote with longtime friends D.V. DeVincentis and Steve Pink. "[Being the girl] in these groups has meant that I've been allowed to do whatever I like," Driver says in her trailer as Damon and Affleck make catcalls from the curb. "Because all of these men have said, 'We've never got her quite right. We need you to fill in the blanks.' " Minnie and Matt — their names could be the title of a forgotten Cassavetes script — were together during the summer while she was shooting a period drama in England and Scotland called The Governess and Damon was soldiering for Spielberg in England. But it's hard to tell whether a Bogart- Bacall To Have and Have Not kind of magic filters onto the screen in Good Will Hunting.

"There's a rosiness that comes through, but that can be deceiving," Van Sant says. "A lot of times if you are told something before you see the film, you might convince yourself something's there when it actually turns out to be the opposite."

Stars' personal lives are a squeamish topic for the director, but not nearly as squeamish as the donnybrook he got into with Good Will Hunting producer Bender, a longtime Quentin Tarantino associate who was handed the movie by Miramax. Since Damon, Affleck, and Van Sant had already gelled by the time Bender came on the project, the tight-knit group viewed him as an interloper. And according to several of the principals, Van Sant told Bender during a preproduction meeting, "You don't have a creative bone in your body, and I just want to punch you in your face." Van Sant then called the leads into his hotel room and demanded that Bender make assurances to the group about creative control. Van Sant and Bender agree that the contretemps was mostly about staking out territory. "Yeah, it happened, then it blew over," Bender says. Van Sant, however, cut Bender's cameo out of the film. And according to the stars, they see Bender's top billing as the only blemish on what was otherwise a dream come true. "The first thing onscreen is a Lawrence Bender production," says one. "It makes me want to puke."

No one recognizes Damon or Affleck as they cajole a janitor into unlocking the doors to their high school theater, and now they're back on the proscenium stage where Damon performed "Burning Down the House" in a school talent show. Casey and Ben are telling horror stories about Damon's slovenliness. The clincher for Affleck was when he showed up at the pad he shares with Damon in Manhattan's Chinatown and found his friend watching TV seated next to an old box of sushi being devoured by maggots. "I can forgive him," Affleck says, "because I know in my heart that he was using all his energy to figure out how he was going to play Will Hunting."

The two actors arbitrarily decided five years ago that Damon would play Will and Affleck would play Chuckie, a supporting role. Damon, as a consequence, gets the girl and a chance to shine with Robin Williams. As solace, Affleck penned himself a pivotal scene, in which Chuckie grants Will permission to turn his back on his friends and rise above his working-class roots. "Every day, I come by to pick you up," Chuckie says, "and we go out and we have a few laughs. But you know what the best part of my day is? The ten seconds before I knock on the door, 'cause I let myself think, I might get there, and you'd be gone. I'd knock on the door . . . and you wouldn't be there. You just left." It's an understated moment of male intimacy, one that almost overshadows the emotional pyrotechnics between Damon and Williams.

When asked whether he ever thinks about how things might have been different had they switched roles somewhere along the line, Damon insists that on the next movie he and Affleck write together, Affleck will star and he will provide the comic relief. "The biggest sadness I have," Damon says, his voice breaking slightly, "is that I look at my role and I think that Ben could easily have played it. I think he let me do it because, literally, he's my best friend in the world and he's that selfless." Catching himself getting mushy, Damon adds, "But, hey, don't feel bad for Ben. He's saving the world. Didn't anybody tell you there's an asteroid the size of Texas headed toward Earth? And if it weren't for Bruce Willis and Ben, God knows what would happen."

[lightpartyadventures]

Next up, the single focused eventual healer of the group, Kaiden Raiden! (He/They)

Kaiden is a 19 year old lalafell from a small village near the peak of Mt. O'Ghomoro inhabitanted by as a small number of survivors of Nym who accepted aid from the Kolbolds at the time. The village does trade with the various Orders that do not interact with the Tempered ones near the base of the mountain.

Due too the centuries of isolation and false information know at the time, the village leaders and elders (of which his parents are some) believe the Green Death was caused by Scholars and have such banned any knowledge of the practice and locked away all the jobstones the survivors of the Sixth Umbral Calamity brought.

Kaiden had always been the let down of the family. They were not as strong as their cousins or as outspoken and charismatic as their parents. They do however, have a love for helping those in pain. And would always strive to do so, much too the chagrin of their parents.

When Dalamud fell and Bahamut brought about the Seventh Umbral Era, the village had a terrifying view of the spectacle. Thankfully, there was no debris or shrapnel launched on the tiny village. None know why it had happened or what it was given their extreme isolation but a few members, including Kaiden, were changed that day.

After that event, Kaiden started too hear a voice call out. He didn't know where at first, but slowly they found the source. A small chest hidden under his family home. Opening it up he was greeted by a blue crystal marked in yellow with what looked like glasses. Upon touching it he was graced with a new friend and family, Poppy. A small red fairy with attitude but a love for people of all kinds.

Kaiden immediately was estatic meeting her as she regaled him with tales of their families past and legacy. Understanding now that the Green Death wasn't the Scholar's fault and that the other stone should be found and tue fairies freed, Kaiden went too his parents. They were much less estatic then he was.

The two ripped the stone from Kaiden's hands and locked them in their room as they refused too listen too a word he said. Heartbroken but determined, Kaiden broke out of their room, stole the stone and Miss. Poppy back, and ran away.

They met up with a Kolbold friend Ru Ha. Ru Ha helped the young lalafell down the mountain through various secret tunnels, warning them about the various dangers of the 'lower surface dwellers'. Kaiden informed their friend that they understood but, they will soon realize just how much they don't know.

With tome in hand, fairy disguised as a carbuncle, and more heart then anyone can hold this little lalafell WILL clear his families name and prove the truth too their parents. No matter what.

Page 0 of -

[ink-and-hedera]

Acquaintance

"Brewed in academia, we sip knowledge, each cup filled with life's realities. In the shadow of ancient trees and hills, we find comfort, learning to endure our shared existence. Like an over-roasted coffee, life blends bitterness with inexplicable charm."

My go-to is black coffee - drip when I'm in a rush, or filter when my favorite barista is working at the coffee shop near the dormitory. The other barista over-roasts the coffee beans and brews it without passion. I'd rather skip coffee altogether than face that disappointment in a small white cup.

You can always tell when a person loves what they do.

I'd love to say that I wake up to the first rays of the sun sneaking into our room through the solitary window, but the truth is we live in the shadow of a hill and old trees. It's unusual, given that we're in the center of Kyiv, but neither my roommates nor I complain. In the summer, the shade provides welcome coolness.

Our room, a cramped 10 square meters, houses four of us. There's no such thing as privacy here. It's not a life, but a fairy tale. But you get used to it. The options are limited: a) find a third job, neglect studies, and rent an apartment; b) sell a kidney; c) endure.

Since I don't have a spare kidney, and a day only has 24 hours - the first two options are out. As for the third - I'm a born endurer.

Back to the room and its inhabitants. To protect privacy, I've changed the names, ages, appearances, and some biographical details. Girls, if you're reading this, know that I love you. Probably.

We're four girls of different ages, tastes, and views. Essentially, we're strangers forced by circumstances to share a roof. In such a situation, you must find common ground. Living together requires rules and responsibility sharing, and quarrels over household matters are inevitable. Sometimes, someone might eat your dinner, the one you've fantasized about all day during tedious lectures. Sometimes, you spend two hours deciding who should pay for the internet and who should take out the trash.

It's like a family.

“Alaska, are you busy?”

A friend messages me while I'm sitting in class, rubbing my forehead. My students are in an anti-bullying lecture, so I'm doing my own thing. Teaching in college at 22 while studying for a master's? It’s a cruel joke. Don't get me wrong, I love my students. But the administration, colleagues, standards from the ministry, and bureaucracy that has me rewriting the curriculum for the sixth time...

I sigh heavily and return to the message.

“Yes,” I answer, though I'm not really bothered. I have at least 20 free minutes.

“Come outside.”

Ugh.

“Why did you even ask then?” I text back, irritated.

“Just come, grumpy.”

I sigh again, shut off my work laptop, and leave everything in the office. I put on a black trench coat with a packet of two remaining cigarettes, a lighter, and keys in the pocket.

"I hope you didn't call me just because you're bored. I have zero desire to climb back to the 4th floor," I say as I exit the building. The cold autumn wind hits me as I descend the stone stairs of the old building.

Oliver is sitting on a bench next to an abstract statue. He waves as I approach. We study Computer Science together at the university, though we don't fit the programmer stereotype.

Oliver, half a head taller than me, has red hair and freckles covering his nose and cheeks. He might seem cute to some, but his snarky sarcasm ruins that image.

"And I missed you too, grumpy. Let's grab a coffee," he says as I stare at him in disbelief. "You're a jerk. Couldn't you just come to me? I'm gonna die climbing back to the classroom."

"I care about your health. Maybe you'll finally quit smoking."

"Shut up," I snap, though I still follow him through the green gates marking the college territory. "So, what brings you here?"

"Had some business around, decided to stop by, check on our grumpy," Oliver says, smirking.

"And who told you I'm at work, and not in the dormitory or elsewhere?"

"Mary. She's worried because you've been acting strange lately," he says as we reach a coffee shop.

The coffee shop is spacious and not crowded - it's the middle of a workday. The interior is green and white, and I momentarily drift away from the conversation, observing every detail of the décor.

The spacious café is cozy and calm, as if immersed in a peaceful oasis in the middle of the city, where time meditates to the rhythm of coffee drops. Modernity intertwines with elegance in every detail. The walls, made of fresh white brick and adorned with green accents, seem to reflect the trends of nature that seep into the modern urban landscape.

Filling the space, the soft light shimmers from stylish pendant lamps with glass shades, creating an atmosphere of tenderness and tranquility. Tables, made of glass panels and metal legs, embody the spirit of innovation and refinement. Interwoven green and white accents add whimsy and refresh the space, creating a sense of lightness and harmony.

Meanwhile, the café does not lose its functionality. Comfortable chairs with soft cushions invite you to relax and enjoy the aromatic drinks brewed in copper coffee makers on the kitchen windowsill. The taste notes of coffee, complemented by the delicate aromas of freshly baked pastries, awaken all your senses, prompting instant relaxation and rest.

Thanks to its refined design and sophisticated approach to decor, the café in green and white color becomes not just a place where you can enjoy the taste of coffee, but also a true masterpiece of modern urban life, inviting you to discover new horizons of taste and aesthetics.

“Are you even listening to me?” Oliver asks, and I just stare at him, momentarily forgetting that I'm not alone here. “I asked what coffee you'll have.”

“Yes, sorry. Americano,” I finally respond. He smiles again and turns back to the barista, while I decide where we should sit.

My gaze lands on a table by the window, and I head there to claim it.

After a few minutes, Oliver joins me, holding two sandwiches. I look at him with a silent question in my eyes.

“You clearly haven't eaten anything,” he says as if he knows me like the back of his hand.

Indeed, I haven't eaten because I overslept three damn alarms and ran to work as if I had been scalded.

“Thank you,” I say gratefully and unfold the bag. The smell of food makes my stomach somersault, and just from that, I let out a pleased “mmm…”

“God, don't rush. When was the last time you ate properly? You're losing your mind with your work. Mary said you were acting strange, but I think I see that the reason for it is your workaholism,” Oliver says, taking a sip of his cappuccino, which the barista has just brought.

“Just... a lot of work,” I say, just having chewed my long-awaited food. “Mary worries in vain.”

“I think she is doing the right thing worrying. I, of course, call you a workaholic, but that doesn't mean you should actually become one, for God's sake,” he says, looking straight at me and exhales with disappointment. “Anyway, we'll talk about this later. Anyway, I came with a proposition.”

I stop eating and look at him in surprise.

“I won't marry you,” I say, with a note of sarcasm, joking.

“Hey! Actually, I'm a great catch,” he adds, laughing openly. “But no, you're wrong. Not that proposition. I know a guy who really wants to open a private educational institution. Somewhere in the summer. The building is great, and so are the ideas and programs. They promise a room, food, and decent salary..." he says, and I look at him with irritation.

“Oliver, you must be joking? I dream of escaping this teaching pit, and you're offering me to dive deeper into it... sorry, frankly, this shit? You know how I'm counting down the days until the end of the contract,” I add, exhaling.

“Alaska, wait and don't get heated. I know, I know, you're planning to go into the gaming industry. And yes, I know how much you like teaching. But this is a really cool opportunity. At least temporarily, until you finish your master's degree. You've been needing to move out of the dorm for a long time, get away from all the problems and start... living. Come on, where else will you find a job with such conditions? And there's a young team there. Lots of opportunities. You'll be able to balance everything appropriately and finally take care of your health.” Oliver says with such determination, trying to convince me. “You don't have to answer right now. Just think about it. It's a good start... Considering... events. Don't refuse right away.”

I take a sip of my Americano.

Damn.

The beans are over-roasted again.

[darkmatter-nebula]

Human Au: Colli's birthdays from 1 to 7 years old with time jumps up to the 7 year old, which Eda decides to celebrate again because she wants to throw a real party for the Colli

Greetings, my dear @importantnightwerewolf! 😘

Thanks for the request!

Drabble: Tales From The Multiverse - Birthday Boy Through The Years

"Happy Birthday, my sweet baby." Evelyn whispered softly as she kissed lovingly Collin's freckled cheek. It was his first Birthday. Caleb kissed lovingly his youngest son's forehead. "We love you so much!" The blonde man smiled. Collin's big brother Hunter, who was ten years old, had so much love and adoration in his magenta eyes as he caressed Colli's cheek. What no one suspected was, that Caleb and Evelyn were destined to die...

.

.

.

Colli's second Birthday was his first without his parents. Hunter did his best to protect the lavender haired baby boy from their Uncle Philip's sheer hatred. The brown haired man just tried to slit Colli's throat! Hunter didn't hesitate to take the hit for his beautiful little Sunshine. The blonde boy's right cheek was about to get a scar. "Demon Child!" Philip whispered venomously as he looked into Colli's red eyes.

.

.

.

As Colli's third Birthday arrived, Philip once again tried to kill the toddler. Hunter's right upper arm got a scar. "Don't worry, I will always protect you." Hunter pressed with infinite tenderness his forehead against Colli's.

.

.

.

Hunter just saved Colli once again. It was his little brother's fourth Birthday and Philip probably would never give up his plans to end the life of his innocent little nephew. This time, Hunter's leg was bleeding. But he didn't care! As long as Colli was safe, the thirteen years old boy was happy.

.

.

.

Hunter's beautiful little Sunshine's fifth Birthday was, thankfully, quite peaceful. Uncle Philip wasn't home. Hunter felt his heart swell as he noticed the bright smile on Colli's adorable face. "Happy Birthday, my beautiful little ray of sunlight." Hunter whispered softly.

.

.

.

Colli's sixth Birthday was the most horrible day the brothers ever had! Philip tried to burn the kindhearted little boy to death! Hunter managed to snuff out the flames and immediately called 911. Philip got, unfortunately only temporary, arrested. The left side of Colli's face and his left leg would get burn scars. Almost one year later, Colli and Hunter gained a new family. People who truly loved them.

.

.

.

"Happy Birthday, my precious Little Star!" Eda kissed lovingly Colli's scarred cheek. She had a wonderful gift for her son. A telescope! Colli absolutely loved Space and he tackled his mother into a hug. "Thank you so much, Mom!" Colli's smile was shining as brightly as the sun. The seven years old boy was pulled into a tight yet soft group hug by his big brothers Hunter and King, his mother, Aunt Lilith, Grandma and Grandpa, and his Uncle figure Hooty. The man's actual name was Herman. But he, along with his childhood friend Eda, liked owls. That's why everyone called him Hooty. Hooty seemed a but strange, but he had a good heart.

The End

[meles-merrivale]

Tagged by @ellionne

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

1.Good Enough

Everyone knows who the little lightning bolt tucked in the hollow of her wrist is for. It sent a shock of pure exhilaration through her the first time she saw it, this incontrovertible proof that the famous Boy-Who-Lived was hers. Now she just wishes it was something else. Anything that was less the legend and more the boy she knew.

2.Eulogy

You wake up cold.

It isn’t the first time, and that, somehow, makes it worse. You had been so sure you’d get used to it, back when you first moved into His bed.

The first time His hands trailed up over your knee socks, your heart stuttered to a stop in your chest. Then, it started beating faster than it ever had before, and you thought maybe that was when your life truly started.

3.Exes Don’t Wear Red (They Wear Revenge)

Someone should really tell Harry Riddle that he looks like shit. Luckily, Pansy is just the person to do it.

“Fix your robe. And your face.”

4.All’s Well That Ends

There are a lot of worst things about this.

Some days, it’s that he can’t picture her face. Not just that he doesn’t know what she looked like, but that when he thinks of her he can’t keep his brain from conjuring up the thing that took her instead. If he can’t have her, he wants his mind dark and empty, echoing with nothing but a name, but he doesn’t even get that void.

5.The Long Way Down

“I see you. Show yourself.”

Sasha James dies trying to see. The Watcher does not have ears. It is only eyes. It hears anyway.

One moment, she is Sasha James. She is 5’10”, with honey brown hair and honey brown eyes that make her look sort of monochromatic and that she decided to stop being insecure about in sixth form. She is twenty-four years old. She is a daughter, and a friend, and a damn good one. She is Sasha James.

And then, quite suddenly, she is not.

6.I Am Having A Bad Time

Once upon a time, in a land far far away, there lived a troll. He is not the hero of our tale, or even the villain, but he is where our story starts, so we will start with him.

He is, in troll terms, a rather impressive fellow. Twelve feet tall, with skin like granite and a great, lumpy body that does an impeccable impression of a boulder. His legs are short but as thick as tree trunks, and attached to massive, flat feet with the most majestic horned toes that all of the other trolls compliment him on.

In human terms, he’s terrifying. Which the little princess he’s chasing would tell you, if she wasn’t so busy being chased and terrified.

7.Wrackspurts Aren’t Real (But I Am)

“I don’t care who his father is. Riddle is fit,” Ginny says, omnioculars pressed firmly to her face.

Luna can’t think of what would be interesting about watching a boy fly the same loops again and again, but her friend is interested, so she looks. That’s how it is with Ginny. Sometimes she wants to talk broom kits or boys, and sometimes Luna wants to hunt for moon frogs or lie down and watch the clouds go by, and they always make time for both.

8.i am my own way out (7/?)

Sometimes, you just know things. The baseless rush of knowing that a letter is going to change your life before you even read the address. The crawling feeling of eyes on you in the dark, or the nagging gut instinct that a loved one is in trouble. Things your body tells you before the world can.

9.Alive Really Isn’t Your Color

Once on the floor of a forest that’s out of bounds, surrounded by people who will laugh instead of cry.

It’s not how these things are supposed to go.

10.Wands Don’t Kill People (Dark Lords Do)

Draco Malfoy is not a coward.

He’s not a Gryffindor, it’s true. But just because he’s not about to go sprinting headlong at a dragon or something doesn’t mean he’s cowardly. He’s more than willing to fight for the right reasons. And he might not be a Hufflepuff either, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t understand loyalty. He’s loyal. Just only to the people who deserve it.

Which is why he’s sitting here in their train compartment and very carefully, very committedly, doing nothing.

Bold of you to assume I know 10 more people, but @gryphonfeather, @the-wig-is-a-metaphor, @metalomagnetic, @arrisha-ao3, @corneliaavenue-ao3 join the fun!

[perledepluie]

When I was putting away some documents related to Tales from Etria, I found something interesting. When I wrote the first "act" of the fic (the first 12 chapters that take place in the Emerald Grove), I discarded some parts for different reasons - mainly because of the inconsistencies with the plot., but not always.

So, when I was classifying those texts that didn't make it in the final version of the fic, I found a scene in which Seth had a rather... unusual encounter. I discarded this scene from the final text for plot reasons, but I thought it would be nice to show it to you anyways :P

Warning : there are spoilers for the main fic (the first 12 chapters, I think, even if this scene was supposed to be part of the sixth or seventh chapter, I guess? I can't remember where it was exactly supposed to be, though...) and for The Flight of the Black Eagles. So, if you didn't read all of that before coming here, do it already, it will prevent you from being spoiled. With that being said... I hope you'll enjoy this little piece!

— — — — —

The Golden Deer Pub was always crowded, whether it was early enough that the sun hadn't yet risen, or late enough to see the stars shining. There were rarely any quiet moments, but nobody ever dared to bother Seth when he was sitting on a stool in front of the bar, sipping his usual beer. Or those who did were drunk. Or crazy. Or sometimes both. Or else...

"I hope you didn't forget what you had to do."

He decidedly could never get a moment to himself in this town-

"What a nice surprise... I didn't know you often hung out here, Azura."

"Don't waste time with your bullshit. You know what'll happen if you don't."

"Don't I have the right to check up on you without you wanting to shove a dagger in my stomach?"

"Be careful with what you're insinuating."

Azura was just a viper, anyway. It was almost sickening for Seth to think that she was the last person in his family still alive, that she was his sister, the person he trusted most in his old guild... She was no better than the gang of scum she worked for, after all. And now, the alchemist told himself that he would have preferred to die with the others that day.

"Why don't you do the dirty work yourselves, as usual? Like the bastards you are?"

"It would be a shame if the Radha knew certain things, don't you think? You value your freedom far too much to let an unfortunate accident happen."

"Excuse me, I'd forgotten that in addition to being bastards, you're also masters in the art of blackmail... You really are the worst of all the bastards in your shitty group, you know that?"

"What you have to do isn't that complicated, though... You just have to obey us... and I'll keep my mouth shut."

"I'm sure they still have places on the streets at night for people like you. You'd get rich quick."

Azura ignored the provocation, and took a sip of her own drink - red wine, as usual. Seth had never understood how others could drink such a beverage without spitting it out or being seized by a searing urge to vomit right after the first sip, and he wasn't about to change his mind. It was like drinking blood, for him, the blood of those betrayed. A perfect drink for his treacherous sister, in this case. He was convinced that only vipers drank such beverages anyway, and Azura was no exception.

"You have one moon, not one more day. If you haven't brought us his head by then..."

"No need to go any further, you'll tell the rest some other time. Now, if you don't mind..."

Seth had finished his beer, so he left a few entals on the bar as payment, stood up, and left without so much as a last glance at his interlocutor. It wasn't as if she deserved it, anyway...

Those bastards had already killed his former companions, and if he didn't agree to bring them the medic's head, his life in Etria would be reduced to languishing behind bars for a crime he hadn't committed. Why did they want Vincent's head again? Seth couldn't remember if it was the consequences of a family quarrel, or a silly story of revenge. He didn't care either way, since he had no intention of doing what they wanted with him. But it was going to take a miracle to get him out of this situation, a huge miracle. He only had one moon left to get out of this giant mess, after all.

— — — — —

So yeah, there was a time when Azura was working for the Blood Crow's Feathers, and she was the only one in the Black Eagles Guild to do so, too. I had a totally different idea for Seth's backstory at the time. He was supposed to be caught in bad trouble with his first guild, and the first one betraying him would be Azura (and not Azel like in the final story). Azel was still supposed to be with the sect too, but his motivations wouldn't make sense if Azura was in the sect instead of the other three, so I ultimalty changed that too. And for the things about Vincent, it wasn't making any sense too (he has family problems too, but not related to the Blood Crow's Feathers), so it was also changed for the final story.

And that's it for today! See y'all for the next chapter, as usual!

[fish-whisper]

What Color Saltwater Lure is Best?

Fishing in saltwater is an adventure that rewards the prepared. And when it comes to preparation, selecting the right lure color can be as crucial as the tide itself. Let's dive deeper into the colorful world of saltwater lures to ensure your tackle box is as ready as you are. Understanding Water Conditions - Clear water: Subtle, natural colors like silvery blues and greens often mimic the local forage, making them irresistible to predators. - Murky water: High-visibility colors such as chartreuse and hot pink stand out against the dark backdrop, drawing strikes from curious fish. Depth Matters - Light absorption: As you go deeper, colors fade. Reds disappear first, followed by oranges and yellows, leaving blues and purples as the last hues standing. - Color retention: For the deep dwellers, blue and purple lures maintain their appeal, while luminescent materials can add an extra allure in the abyss. Targeting Specific Fish - Species preferences: trout may fall for gold, while flounder fancy green. Knowing your target species' predilections can tip the scales in your favor. - Variety is the spice of life: An array of colors can keep you prepared for whatever the ocean throws your way. Local Knowledge is Key - Ask locals: The old salts at the dock or the chatter in tackle shops can offer a treasure trove of lure color wisdom. - Community insights: Online forums and fishing reports are your eyes and ears on the water when you can't be there yourself. Experimentation Leads to Success - Try new colors: Sometimes, the best catches come from the least expected choices. A splash of purple in a sea of greens might just be the ticket. - Log your trips: Document your lure choices and the conditions under which they were used. Over time, patterns will emerge that can guide future selections. The Influence of Weather Conditions - Sunny days: The glint of a silver lure can mimic the flash of a fleeing fish, grabbing the attention of predators from afar. - Overcast days: In dim light, a bright or glowing lure can be the beacon that leads fish to your line. Lure Size and Shape - Match local prey: A lifelike imitation not only looks the part but moves like it too, compelling fish to commit to the chase. - Combine factors: The right color in the wrong size might as well be invisible. Ensure your lure's profile matches what's on the menu. Seasonal Color Choices - Spawning seasons: When fish are on the nest, they're on edge. Colors that mimic an intruding species can provoke a protective strike. - Seasonal awareness: As the water temperature changes, so do the feeding habits. Align your lure color with the seasonal shifts to stay ahead. Insights from Experienced Anglers - Community wisdom: There's no substitute for experience. Seasoned anglers often have a sixth sense for the right color on any given day. - Strategy refinement: Take the advice of those who've reeled in countless tales and let their insights refine your approach to lure selection. Conclusion The quest for the best color saltwater lure is a journey of learning and discovery. It's a dance with the elements, a test of wits against nature's finest swimmers. By blending science with art, and data with intuition, you'll craft a palette that's as effective as it is personal. And beyond the catch, it's the stories, the camaraderie, and the connection with the great blue that make every cast worthwhile. Here's to tight lines and tales worth telling. Read the full article

[yellowwwcrayon]

“So she tried to fix the problem, and you gotta love a woman that knows her way around a car engine, but it was pretty much totalled by the time I drove it out of the meth lab. Honestly surprised it even got me that far–”

“You’re rambling again.” It was Logan who spoke this time. 

“Am I? Sorry, got lost in your eyes,” Wade said and immediately ducked to avoid the empty glass bottle Victor hurled at his head. The rest of their team laughed. He thought he caught a flicker of amusement in Logan’s face, but that might have been Wade’s wishful thinking or a trick of the firelight. But she did elbow the overprotective Neanderthal sitting next to her, so Wade gave himself a point in this round with Victor. 

“What happened next?” Zero surprised them all by asking. 

Wade put a hand over his chest and faked a gasp, “Jungkook, I thought you weren’t invested in my ‘shitty’ tale.” 

“I’m not,” He said, smirking faintly, “I’m hoping to hear that she steals your kidney, robs you blind at gunpoint and gives you a string of incurable STDs.” 

“I still think ‘she’ turns out to be a ‘he’ and Wade gets ass-fucked, but I agree he gets robbed somewhere along the way,” Fred offered. “I’ll bet you the rest of my ration pack.”

“God, you guys are so fucking mean,” Wade complained, “none of that happened. She dropped me off at a motel a few miles down and I offered to buy her dinner as a thank you.” 

He could still remember it like it was yesterday, feel the phantom warmth of her leg against his beneath the cramped booth and that aching fluttery anticipation in his chest when he’d stuttered through his horrible attempt to proposition her after food – asking if she wanted to find out what color the pubic hair plugging up the motel room’s bathtub drain was going to be. She’d laughed and said yes, and when he finally fumbled the lock open on the peeling door, she’d pushed him inside and put her mouth over his.

“And then, well, we had a great night together,” He said, soft and mostly to himself. 

“That’s it? I thought the whole point of your retelling was to give us details,” Frank said, frowning. 

“Please don’t," Bradley grimaced. "She doesn't deserve that."

“I’m not going to, Bradley, don’t worry. One, that is my future wife, Fred. How dare you? Two, I’m a feminist, and three, she’d probably kill me because,” across the campfire, Logan’s eyes narrowed, “well, because girls all got that weird sixth sense for when their man's talking shit or cheating.” 

Whatever her face was doing was nothing compared to Victor’s absolutely livid expression. He looked seconds away from throwing himself across the fire and ripping Wade’s cock and balls off with his bare hands. It suddenly occurred to him that such a visceral reaction could only mean one thing – Logan had mentioned their encounter to Victor, positive or negative he wasn’t sure, but this was the look of a man realizing that he was facing another man who’d stuck his dick inside his precious baby sister and made her come. Multiple times. 

“I was gonna ask her to marry me. Bought this ring the next morning,” Wade groped a hand inside his back pocket and pulled out a lint-covered ring pop, never taking his eyes off of Logan the whole time, “kept it on me for six years. Yeah, looks disgusting now but it’s the thought that counts, amiright fellas?”

Wraith grinned, "Our boy's old school."

“Did she steal your money?” Fred asked for the third time, ration powder smeared all down his front. 

“No,” Wade studied the cheap bright red plastic ring under the flickering campfire, “just my heart.”

genderswap AU (always a woman!Logan x Wolverine Origins!Wade)

A related thought I had a few days ago.

Warnings for the below - mentions of past child SA from Wade's uncle.

"Icebreaker question, when did everyone lose their v-cards?" Wade asked as annoyed groans broke out all around the campfire. Their new CO stood and walked off into the pitch black night without so much as a wave for good night.

Rude.

"Alright, now that the 80-year-old virgin has left the chat, how about the rest of you handsome devils, hmm?" He grinned at the sullen faces reflected in the fire's glow, shiny with sweat and gun oil and probably dried blood. "Oh, come on. I'm just trying to get to know my new teammates better. We just annihilated a whole ass village together, time to whip out some mimosas, gossip about our sordid pasts and braid Victor's chest hair."

Victor's jaw twitched as he zipped his vest up over that impressive plumage. The woman sitting next to him, the only woman in their little ragtag team of homicidal freaks mind you, snorted and lifted the lukewarm beer she'd been nursing for the past fifteen minutes up to her face. He watched her take a long swallow, some of the foamy white liquid sloshing over the corners of her mouth and meandering lazily down the olive skin of her exposed neck.

Fred cleared his throat, "sixteen. She was my high school sweetheart."

"Sickening," Wade commented after a pause, ripping his gaze off of Logan and picking up his own forgotten beer, "I'd like to say twenty," a few disbelieving laughs echoed through the men, "but officially, twelve and a half, to a weird uncle on my dad's side at a Christmas party."

Zero made a face.

"Why twenty?" John asked from beside him.

"Oh just because of how earth-shatteringly good it was," He kicked his legs out and rolled his shoulders back, acutely aware of Logan's eyes on him across the flickering fire, "you see, I was but a simple innocent Canadian boy before I met her. After, I emerged a man."

"You are so fucking weird," said Zero.

"Hush, Jimin, I'm telling the story here."

"Jesus."

"My car, well, it technically wasn't my car. I stole it off of a drug dealer south of the border, but I digress. Anyway, it had broken down on the side of the road in Albuquerque, in the middle of buttfuck nowhere and I was seriously contemplating trading my tight ass or hot mouth for a ride to the nearest town when my goddess, my princess in shining uh- plaid shirt and jeans, came barreling down the dirt path in this rusty pile of scrap metal-"

"Your princess sounds like a dude," Fred interrupted. "It was a man, wasn't it? I can already see the punchline coming from a mile away."

"Are you gay?" Zero asked, "you seem pretty gay."

Chris, who had been listening quietly next to Logan this whole time, finally choked on his drink and dissolved into a coughing fit. She reached over and thumped him a few times on the back, her gaze never leaving Wade's face. He stared back.

"Sorry to disappoint, Suga sweetie, but I'm strictly into pussy due to the creepy uncles."

Zero's nose scrunched. "Ugh."

"Anywho, out hopped this beast of a woman," Wade went on, “she was fucking gorgeous, legs for days and tits the size of my head-"

"Singular or combined?"

Wade gawked at him. "Fred, what the fuck?"

"What?" He shrugged, "your head's not that big, Wade."

"This is a shitty story," Zero complained, folding his arms over his chest.

"As big as Logan's melons, ok? Stop interrupting me."

Everyone turned to stare at Logan, whose breasts strained against the sweat-stained wifebeater she was wearing, one black bra strap peeking out from over her left shoulder. She lifted an eyebrow at them and took another sip of beer. Beside Logan, Victor growled, sounding like a backed up motorcycle.

"That's pretty big," Fred finally nodded, "go on."

(Taking a short break from work to relax my brain and free write a bit. Yes, the mystery woman from Wade's story is Logan. They hooked up before they ran into each other again with Team X.)

[f1]

Max Verstappen makes a fifth consecutive pole position after British Grand Prix qualifying

Max Verstappen makes a fifth consecutive pole position after British Grand Prix qualifying, with McLaren's Sergio Perez OUT in Q1... as Lando Norris has to settle for second Verstappen was fastest in qualifying as he secures another pole position Norris came close to pipping him in a dramatic end to Q3 but fell just short Lewis Hamilton finished seventh, with George Russell just ahead in sixth By Nathan Salt For Mailonline Published: 16:23, 8 July 2023 | Updated: 16:26, 8 July 2023 As is so often the case on race weekends, reigning world champion Max Verstappen will start on pole, this time for the British Grand Prix. On a drizzly day in Northamptonshire Verstappen looked unruffled - a tale as old as time this season. There was one moment of raised eyebrows on his pit-wall when he understeered at the finish of Q1, seeing him clip the wall and break his front wing when returning into the garage. But from there the two-time champion, with a patched wing, was setting purple fastest sector after purple fastest sector and took pole with a time of 1:26:720, narrowly edging out Lando Norris, who will join him on the front row. The sea of papaya that is scattered among the record crowd at Silverstone over the weekend roared when Norris crossed the line and the Brit will fancy his chances in a drastically improved McLaren. His team-mate, Oscar Piastri, produced an impressive third. Max Verstappen was fastest in qualifying as he secures another pole position Lando Norris made it competitive at the end but had to settle for a second-placed finish Lewis Hamilyon fell to seventh during Q3, with teammate George Russell finishing sixth ‘Yeah baby!’ Norris exclaimed on team radio. This, in front of a home crowd, was one to savour for the emotional 23-year-old. Verstappen’s pole, his fifth in a row, came as little surprise and, truthfully, neither did a frustrating session for Lewis Hamilton, who will start seventh. The Mercedes driver spun off 75 seconds into qualifying, losing his rear tyres heading into Stowe, but damage was minimal and he avoided the ignominy of a Q1 exit. That honour befell Verstappen’s team-mate Sergio Perez, who will start Sunday’s race from 16th following a disastrous session. Earlier, qualifying had been brought to a halt via a red flag with just over three minutes remaining in Q1 when Haas’ Kevin Magnussen stopped on track due to a mechanical fault. And when action resumed, with Perez first out on track, the out-of-form Red Bull driver could do little to arrest his crisis of confidence, strengthening Verstappen’s grip on winning a third world title. Nyck de Vries, Guanyu Zhou and Yuki Tsunoda were the other three drivers to fall in Q1. Elsewhere it has been Williams that have been the talk of the paddock - aside from Brad Pitt and the Hollywood film crew shooting a movie - this weekend and they delivered. Despite a shaky start to qualifying they rallied impressively and Alex Albon, who went second fastest in final practice, finished a smart 8th. Alpine’s Pierre Gasly finished 10th, with Aston Martin’s Fernando Alonso in ninth. Share or comment on this article: Max Verstappen makes a fifth consecutive pole position after British Grand Prix qualifying via Formula One | Mail Online https://www.dailymail.co.uk?ns_mchannel=rss&ns_campaign=1490&ito=1490