#welcome to the real world where you have to make hard choices

[lethea1969]

I honestly don't know what to say because if your entire argument hinges on the fact that you want less dead Palestinians then not voting/voting third party is Absolutely NOT the choice supported by your argument. Honestly what part of Trump Will Be WORSE! do you not understand? Like please look up harm reduction omg. Do you think that some sort of miracle is going to appear out of thin air and create a candidate that doesn't want to support Israel to some extent? Or are you just one of those people who want the world to get worse (like Hamas) to force a revolution ala the rapture.

Like fr I think the only reason people just aren't paying attention to Trump's plans and making such a fuss about Biden is because he Is the sitting president. No where near the amount of accusations towards other people in the US government or who have the potential to be in the US government (cough *Trump* cough).

Really giving "people pissed off at Martin Van Buren about the economy under his presidency even tho all the decisions that created the crappy economy happened under Andrew Jackson" energy.

Look.

I have made you a chart. A very simple chart.

People say "You have to draw the line somewhere, and Biden has crossed it-" and my response is "Trump has crossed way more lines than Biden".

These categories are based off of actual policy enacted by both of these men while they were in office.

If the ONLY LINE YOU CARE ABOUT is line 12, you have an incredible amount of privilege, AND YOU DO NOT CARE ABOUT PALESTINIANS. You obviously have nothing to fear from a Trump presidency, and you do not give a fuck if a ceasefire actually occurs. You are obviously fine if your queer, disabled, and marginalized loved ones are hurt. You clearly don't care about the status of American democracy, which Trump has openly stated he plans to destroy on day 1 he is in office.

[twilightkitkat]

Do you ever just sit there, thinking about Logan and Wade and them together and what it means?

Thinking about why they're so big right now. Why it took THIS version of them to finally get that formula right?

Because it wasn't like they hadn't interacted in previous universes. It wasn't like they hadn't had crossover comics or episodes where they interacted in animated series of other Marvel characters. It wasn't like this was the FIRST time they'd been together, like it was a new concept.

They'd interacted before. They have a whole backstory together, both Weapon X experiments gone wrong (and right, in a fucked up way). They both had similarities. They both put on a metaphorical mask to hide their emotions, to keep others from seeing how desperately they needed to feel human connection. They both have low self-esteem and low expectations. They both were the ones people turned to when they needed to get the gritty, morally grey, dirty work done that nobody needed to do.

They always had a kinship. In some of the comics, it caused them to become friends. To reach a sort of mutual understanding.

But now?

It took THIS version of Logan—exhausted and grieving and borderline suicidal, closed off from the world—and THIS Wade—desperate and aching to matter like it'd eat him whole—for them to finally come together into something greater. Into not just Deadpool and Wolverine, teaming up for a one-off, but Deadpool and Wolverine, where they're a set. Where Wade takes him home and makes a place for him in his family and Logan accepts it. Relishes in it, even.

They'd always had similarities. But in a fucked-up, high-stakes situation, they were finally able to let down their masks and see them. They finally saw the void reflected in each other's eyes and realized they were one and the same. And they fight over it, sure, but they understand each other and it's so evident in the way they interact. In the way Logan knew just the weak points to hit to piss Wade off. In the way Wade understood why Logan would want to sacrifice himself but refused to let it happen.

It took two men at the end of their ropes, reeling from loss, to see each other at rock bottom and yank each other up and climb together.

And isn't that beautiful?

To meet someone who sees you at your worst, at your lowest, and still decides you're worth it. Who easily shoves past your facade and sees the real you—the grief-ridden, terrified, clawing animal that begs to not be alone—and welcomes it.

Who agrees to make a home with you, in the aftermath of it all, even when one of you gets back what you'd had before. Because you realize that you found what you'd been working so hard all along to save: a home.

And you wouldn't have this without them. You can't go back to your life before, even if you love the people in it. Because you can't imagine going back to feeling cosmically alone, to feeling like people care but don't get it. To going back to starving after finally getting used to eating well.

There's something special about this Wade and this Logan. Something that their other versions wanted, yearned for, but never quite achieved. They were their own individual people with their own lives and friends, but were they ever more than content? Were they ever truly happy with themselves in the way we see these two at the end of the movie?

It's like meeting your soulmate.

You were destined to cross paths in different universes, temporarily entering each other's orbit, but always left unsatiated. Until, finally, finally, you get the push you need. To reach out. To take that outstretched hand.

To latch onto each other and let your orbits shift to accommodate. To push past Wade's cheerful, crass mask and Logan's gruff, closed-off exterior to finally let each other in. Let them be seen.

A relationship is a series of choices. Regardless of your chemistry, regardless of the similarities in other Logans and Wades, it's the choices that matter. You can want for something and still not have it, you can realize you relate to someone without reaching out.

That's why this Logan and Wade are so special.

Because they chose this. Wade chose this Logan, out of all of them, and stuck with him. Logan chose to believe Wade, to not abandon him even after realizing he'd lied. Wade chose to be emotionally vulnerable and reveal his history with Vanessa. Logan chose to break free from Cassandra to help save Wade's World, even if she could silence the voices in his head. Because Wade was more important. Wade chose to show Logan his family, instead of just claiming that he was being noble and saving the world. He chose to be honest, to show Logan who he was. Logan chose to sacrifice himself and Wade chose to do it in turn. Wade chose to call out after him, to not let him go, and Logan chose to turn around, to listen, and to come with him. To come home with him.

They finally chose each other.

[gguk-n]

Safe Haven (Carlos Sainz x Reader)

Thank you for the 200 followers. I'm having a lot of fun writing. Hope you guys enjoy this celebration post!!

Summary- Meeting Carlos was the best thing to happen to you.

{Reader's POV}

Ever since Carlos and I had gone public with our relationship; all the people I had avoided informing of our relationship had found out from the news. It was hard to miss when the world like to talk about who the girl was hanging on to one of the hottest F1 driver was.

The one person I had avoided telling about my relationship with Carlos the most was my own mother. Our relationship was always a tough one; she never could accept my choices or decisions. I've lost a lot of partners because of her. Either she would convince me or them that we weren't meant to be; and the next day I was crying on the bathroom floor.

I met Carlos after a particularly bad break up where the guy cheated on me because my mother said I was cheating on him and he should get me back. I really loved him but I felt like the stars had aligned when I met Carlos at the Real Madrid match I was dragged to by my roommate who was tired of watching me mope. The match wasn't very memorable but the guy I was sat next to was. I didn't know he was some formula one driver; all I knew was he was some hot Spanish guy who's voice made a shiver run down my spine. We exchanged numbers at the end of the night and stayed in touch for a while before we could meet up for a date. The date was beautiful and magical just like the fairytales.

We'd been dating for almost 2 years when I finally agreed to go to one of his races. I had moved out from the town that held me back and far far away from my mother. I felt like I was invincible at this point. I guess I forgot what she was capable of. The moment my face was plastered all over the news, my phone wouldn't stop ringing. I was scared. Carlos didn't know the extent of my hurt and why I avoided my mother.

Until a few days after the race, Carlos was out cycling with his friends and I was busy making cookies when I heard the door ring. Thinking it was Carlos, I opened the door; only to be met with the one person I was trying to run away from. "What are you doing here?" I asked, a tremble in my voice. "I heard you got yourself a rich and famous boyfriend. Won't you introduce me to him?" she asked while trying to look behind me. I tried to close the door but she was strong and walked right in. "Can't believe you actually found someone, gullible enough" she sneered taking the whole house in. My hands were shaking and there was a lump in my throat. "The house is big and looks expensive. You must be giving him a good reason to keep you around." she jeered. "Can you leave?" I asked, unsure of anything. "I could but then I wouldn't get to meet this boyfriend of yours, now would I" she replied taking a seat on the couch.

"Why are you here?" I asked, finally finding some strength. "Isn't it obvious? You got rich and famous and forgot your poor old mother who raised you?" she said solemnly. If I didn't know better, I would've been fooled. She leaned back on the sofa, "Come sit darling. It's your house after all" she said, patting the space next to her. I quietly took my place on the sofa next to hers. "I'm hurt. I see you after years and this is the kind of welcome I get" she sighed. "What do you want, now?" I asked more boldly. "I don't get what he sees in you" she started avoiding my question. "You're not pretty or petite like those models, or have money or fame that you can offer. Must be the sex. Am I right?" she asked. I was disgusted at what she said. "Good thing you learned how to please a man. The previous one had to find solace in another woman's arms because of you" she tsked. "He wouldn't have, if you hadn't lied" I spat. "I was only looking out for him" she smiled. "Carlos won't want you around once I'm done talking" she smirked. "He's different, he loves me." I cried out. "Oh dear, all men are the same. They'll leave for a better thing any day." she replied.

As if on queue, I heard the door open and Carlos called out, "Carino, I'm back and I have your favourite cheesecake from that shop you love." I sat there with bated breath. The moment he came in view, I quickly strode towards him. He had placed the cake in the kitchen and wrapped his arms around me, giving me a quick peck. I turned towards my mother and introduced him to her. "Babe, this is my mother. Mom, this is my boyfriend, Carlos." I said. Carlos sensed my unease with my posture to the way I was shaking slightly. He placed a hand on the small of my back and raised his hand to shake my mother's. "Nice to meet. Mrs Y/L/N. I've heard so much about you" he said. "Sadly, I haven't. You'd think that after you grow, birth and raise a child they'd care about you at least. But she left me to rot" she fake cried; the crocodile tears ready to fall. My heart was beating out of my chest. I felt weak and a part of me was scared that what if he listened to my mother and then what. "Mom, you should go, we have somewhere to be." I said, standing my ground. "What a shame? I was hoping to have lunch with you. Carlos, sweetheart, if she ever troubles you; give her a good beating, she's quite docile. I've let her loose and look at the trouble she is causing us both." she said, shaking her head. I felt like throwing up. Carlos was shocked, "Why would I hit her?" he asked. "It's ok darling, all righteous men hit their wives to keep them in line. I mean if you'll make this whore your wife that is" she snickered. "Y/N isn't a whore and I do plan on making her my wife" he replied disgusted at what my mother said.

"I would like it if you would stop disrespecting my girlfriend and leave right now." he asked politely. "Where would the fun be, if I left?" she asked. "Please leave before I call the police" he said sternly. I was shaking violently at this point, all those memories, resurfacing. Thankfully Carlos was able to get her to leave. When he came back after locking the door, I crashed in his arms. "Are you ok, hermosa?" he whispered. I started to cry, "Please don't leave me. I don't know what I'll do without you. I love you so much" I cried out in one breath, holding his shirt tightly. "I will never leave you, hermosa" he replied now carrying me to the sofa. We sat down in each others embrace while I cried my heart out. His shirt wet from all the sweat and my tears.

After I had calmed down, "I didn't know it was this bad" he whispered. "She's the reason my last boyfriend cheated on me" I mumbled. "Well, he was stupid. Good he left. That way I found you." he said while smiling. I finally smiled at him for the first time since my mother came. "Don't listen to anything she says. She doesn't know me, she doesn't know us. I love you so much and I would never let anything happen to you" he comforted. I gave him a hug, burying my face in his neck. He placed me on the sofa before getting up to go to our room. I thought he was going to get changed but instead he came back with something in his hand. "I had elaborate plans that my sisters were helping me in. But this is a better time then any." He said, while getting on one knee. My hands were on my mouth. "I love you since the day I first saw you at the Real Madrid match. I'm so happy that we were sat next to each other. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you do me the honour by marrying me?" he stated. "Yes" I croaked out, giving him my left hand. He got up and kissed me. "I'll make sure no one can hurt you ever again. Not even your mother" he said giving me a kiss again. I smiled into the kiss wrapping my arms around him, knowing I was finally safe. "My sisters are gonna kill me, I asked them to plan such an elaborate proposal" he laughed. "I think they'll understand" I said, smiling at him. "Yeah, they love you more than they love me anyways" he chuckled. I was happy I thought while looking at the ring on my finger.

[so-so-woso]

i wanna be the one | part 1

Edit: Changed title. Thanks to Dru for the suggestion. From the song "Things We Never Say" by the Bad Bad Hats. Great song, potentially relevant maybe who knows.

Summary: Reader is an English-American GK who joins the Arsenal squad and ends up in an interesting back and forth with Leah Williamson. This chapter is mainly set-up for the future. The vibes will probably be very different going forward lol

Warnings: Angst, swallowing self-doubt, and mentions of parental death in the first section.

Word Count: 3,284

London felt just like Seattle. You were expecting it to feel different, more European (whatever that meant), but when you stepped out of the airport and that familiar January rain hit your skin, it was a welcome feeling. It wasn’t quite Home – you hadn’t had one of those in a long time – but it was definitely welcoming, and nice enough that you didn’t bother with an umbrella. It would’ve been hard enough trying to carry one along with all your bags anyway, although by the look on your driver’s face he really wished you had at least tried. It was nice that the team had sent a car to meet you, especially since you didn’t really know anyone here that well, but you supposed they would do that for any new signing. The driver helped you get your bags into the car and then you were off to the club to dot some Is and cross some Ts to make everything truly official.

Wistful thoughts crept into the back of your mind as you were chauffeured through the streets of London, and you decided for the first time in a long time not to fight them. Not here, anyway – not now. Not after everything it took to get you here. Get you here again, technically. You were born in London after all, and raised in Sheffield where your mother had grown up. Your father was an American, from Dallas, who came to England for graduate school and stayed for the woman he fell in love with. He often teased her about “real (American) football” but she converted him to Sheffield United fan, though he would never admit it – at least not until you were born. Match days became a family event as soon as you could stand up on your own, even though you were still too young to really remember anything at that point, but by the time you could run you wanted nothing more than to play. You were always bigger than the other kids so they made you play with the boys, but you knew a lot of the women’s national team players had played on boys’ teams growing up, so you didn’t mind it. You were never upset about that, but you were upset when they made you move to the goalkeeper position when you were eight. It was the boring position and you never got to do anything, but you were the only kid on the team who didn’t seem scared of the ball when it came flying at you, so the job fell to you. Many years later, it would prove to be the right choice, but for a while you thought it felt like a punishment from the universe. Then you found out what that kind of punishment actually felt like.

You were only eleven when your parents died. It was a car accident; your mom was driving. She took the brunt of it and was gone by the time the ambulance arrived. Your dad was in the hospital for two days, but he never woke up. You had been in the back seat. Heavy bruising, a busted ribs, broken collarbone, and a big gash across the side of the head was it for you. You were in the hospital too, for a while. Your paternal grandmother came all the way from Austin to pick you up and take you to live with her. Your mom’s parents had been gone for a while now, and GiGi – what you had called your father’s mother – was all you had left. You had only met her a few times before, but you didn’t really have another option, so across the pond you went.

It would be a massive understatement to say that Texas was different from Sheffield. It was truly a whole different world, but kids are resilient enough. You were famous for a while, because of your accent, and then you were weird for a while, because of your accent, and then eventually you became just one of the kids. Your GiGi was supportive as well, more than you had expected her to be. You didn’t know much of the specifics as a kid, but you knew she and your father had had some sort of falling out and weren’t as close as they had been when he was younger. You always thought it had to do with him choosing to stay in England rather than come home to America. When you got older it seemed like maybe there was more to it than that, but GiGi wouldn’t talk about it. She did help you get into therapy, so that you could learn how to process what had happened and all the big changes that came with it. You didn’t like it at the time, but in hindsight it was probably the best thing she could’ve done. She even started trying to learn about football – soccer – too, because she knew you liked it, and she made sure to sign you up for the local league. You think maybe that time doesn’t heal wounds, but it sort of scabs them over enough that they only hurt when you pick at them, so eventually you learn to stop picking at them, and after that life became kind of normal.

You eventually played soccer in high school – goalkeeper, naturally – and were good enough to get recruited to the University of Texas. From there, the NWSL draft sent you to Seattle for the OL Reign. You spent a season as the third-string goalkeeper, then a season as the second-string, and then were presented with an opportunity you couldn’t dare turn down. It had been Kim Little’s idea, apparently. She had only played with you in Seattle for a month or so, and you never really hung out, but she knew you had grown up in England and that you had really wanted the chance to play football in Europe. She would tell you later that she was impressed with your resilience, something you had heard often growing up, and that you had a “dead brilliant reaction speed” which you guessed sounded good. So when Arsenal’s back-up goalkeeper transferred out and they were weighing their options, she suggested they give you a look. She had said it offhandedly, like it wasn’t a big deal, but you would wager she fought harder for you than she let on. You had only played a handful of games in two seasons, and while you were admittedly good, the offer from the English club still came as a massive surprise. They were up front and adamant about your status as a pure back-up to Zinsberger, and while you would’ve had a decent chance to win the starting spot in Seattle, you just couldn’t say no to European football, to England, to the Arsenal.

That’s how you ended up in the back of a dark car being driven through the streets of north London in the pouring rain. Your fingers fiddled absently at the chain around your neck and the two golden bands that hung from it while you considered everything that led you here, hoping that you made the right choice. Only time would tell, you thought, as the car squealed to a slow stop. You hesitated for a long moment before tucking the necklace under your shirt and moving to exit the vehicle. The driver met you at the car door, an umbrella extended overhead. You were taller than him, so you had to awkwardly bend your neck as he moved to close the door behind you.

“This shouldn’t take long,” he said, “Then we’ll get you home.” You thanked him and stuffed your fists in the pockets of your coat as you followed him up to the club, your stomach slowly rising higher and higher into your throat as the series of decisions you had recently made began to congeal rather quickly into a hard reality. It was some grotesque mix of nerves and excitement and fear that just fully slapped you in the face when you stepped inside the building. You hadn’t felt like this in Seattle, or on the plane, or in the car, but now that you were here, physically, it’s like everything else was physical too. It wasn’t some amorphous Choice floating in the metaphorical ether of your life; it was a foreboding Presence leering down at you, clawing at your shoulders from behind, and whispering ‘you don’t deserve this’ into your psyche. Nausea began to swell up, to the point you were just starting to feel dizzy. Out of instinct you reached forward and put your hand on the driver’s shoulder, who stopped walking to turn and see what you needed. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but was interrupted by a distinctly Scottish, “Oh ‘ey, Tex!” behind you.

You both turned to see Kim Little striding down the hallway, followed closely by Jonas and one of the other coaches. You swallowed hard, all the torturous feelings slowly fading away as you saw a familiar face. “Hey, Little Kim, “ you retorted. She scoffed and faked a jab towards your ribs before she reached up to hug you.

“Welcome to the party,” she said, stepping back to introduce the coaches, who shook your hands. They welcomed you as well and explained that the evening would be brief, they were sure you’d be tired from the flight, but just needed to finalize some things on the business side and then Kim would give a tour of the facilities. You thanked them, probably too many times, and went with them all to finish your paperwork and pick up your official training gear. Your kit wouldn’t be ready until tomorrow since they’d have to put your name on and weren’t sure what number you wanted (you picked 18 because it was available and made sense for a goalkeeper). Kim showed you around, asked about the flight, and made you feel as welcome as she thought she could. It was nice to talk to someone for a while. You weren’t exactly an extrovert, but you were Southern enough you enjoyed being around people, and being able to talk to Kim, even if it was more or less small talk, made you feel better, and by the time the tour was done all of the earlier feelings were forgotten. You started to think that maybe this whole thing was a good idea after all.

“So no rest for the weary – first training tomorrow, yeah? Text me your address and I’ll pick you up. Since you won’t have a car, Uber’s always an option, but until you get sorted, you can get rides with me,” Kim said.

“Sounds good. Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me yet, I’m picking you up extra early tomorrow – the girls’ll want to meet you before kickin’ balls at your head.”

“Well, I guess that’s only polite.”

You both laughed and hugged goodbye before heading your separate ways, you pulling out your phone to look up your new address to send it to Kim. This was a good decision, you thought, this was a good decision.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your apartment – or flat? – was nicer than you expected it to be. You had done a Zoom tour while you were still in Seattle and it looked fine, but you had tempered your expectations to be safe. Turns out, you didn’t need to. It was a two-bedroom and furnished with the basics, so there was plenty of space for you and plenty room to decorate as you saw fit. You had what was sometimes described as an eclectic taste by your friends, mainly because you liked to decorate with things that made you happy. That seems like an obvious thing to decorate with, but you were kind of – literally – a giant dork, which meant you had a lot of “nerd shit” as your friends would tease. You expected the Arsenal girls would do the same if they ever started coming over, but all of that would be a long time coming. Tonight, all you wanted to do was collapse into bed, which is exactly what you did.

Kim wasn’t lying when she said she’d pick you up early. At least she had the decency to bring you coffee, but she was completely taken aback when you admitted you didn’t really drink coffee and actually preferred tea. “Guess there is some English in you after all,” she had joked as she drove. She asked about your night and how you slept, and pointed out all the important-to-know shops and stops between your apartment and the training center. When you finally arrived, you asked her if she accepted tips for her tour knowledge – to which she responded with “only big bills”. You laughed as you retrieved your bag from the back of her car, and the two of you headed in.

The next few days were an absolute blur. You were introduced to everyone, and they all seemed pretty nice. McCabe kept talking about how tall you were, but from how everyone else acted that was normal. Manu was happy to have another goalkeeper in the squad despite the fact you would both technically be competing for the starting spot, even though you were explicitly hired as a back-up. At least it didn’t seem like there would be any weird hurt feelings or anything there, so you were glad for that. All your other time was spent trying to discern personality types and team dynamics, and also actually training. The coaches had told you they wouldn’t expect you to go full on for the first few days to give you time to acclimate to everything. You thanked them, of course, but that didn’t stop you from diving in head first.

By the time your official day three was over, you wished you had taken it a little easier. It felt like jet lag hit you late, on top of the normal physical tiredness of training. But that evening as the team as the team filtered out of the locker room, Katie McCabe slapped you on the back and said, “Drinks on you tonight, mate!” You turned to look at her, but before you could ask, Kim interrupted with a sharp “Katie–“

“Hold on, hold on! I don’t mean a big to-do, but we gotta welcome the newbie right, right?”

A couple of the other players voiced their agreement and Kim rolled her eyes. “Two drink maximum.”

“Four.”

“Two.”

“Three?”

“Two, McCabe.”

“Two and shots?”

“…”

“Two…and shots?”

“…one shot.”

“Fuck yes, best captain ever! You’re riding with us, Y/N!”

A mix of confusion and amusement spread across your face as you looked between the two of them, and Kim just shook her head and waved at you to go with Katie, so you let yourself be pulled away into whatever the night would bring.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite telling you that you were paying for drinks, Katie was nice enough to only make you buy the shots, and despite Kim’s hesitance at you all going out mid-week, it was a surprisingly calm evening. You ended up sitting at a table with just a handful of your new teammates. Most of them were joking around with each other, teasing and taunting. You sat quietly, unsure of how inserting yourself into the dynamic would come off. You thought of a few quips throughout the conversations, but made sure to hold your tongue, choosing to sip on your beer instead.

“You always this quiet?”

You glanced over in the direction of the voice, inadvertently locking eyes with Leah Williamson. You knew who she was, obviously – won the Euros and all. What you hadn’t known was that she was even more attractive in person. You didn’t even know that was possible, but it was certainly a pleasant surprise.

“Not usually,” you responded, drawing in a breath. “Just can’t get a word in edgewise with this one goin’ off.”

You gestured towards Katie, who didn’t even register the comment. It did get a chuckle out of Steph and Foord, though, which made you relax a bit. Looking back at Leah, she was still looking at you, but didn’t seem to react otherwise. You paused for a moment, chewing on the inside of your cheek, before deciding to just go for it.

“So in the summer do you ever get a weird tan on your forehead from frowning so much?”

That did draw Katie’s attention; you could tell from the way she practically guffawed.

“Oy, she’s got you dead to fuckin’ rights!” she said, leaning over to elbow at Leah. The Aussies had laughed as well, as did Kim. Leah didn’t look impressed at the remark, but from the twitch of her lips you would swear she was biting back a smile. She had nice lips. Were you staring at her lips? Your eyes flashed back up to hers and she was still looking at you. She would’ve been able to tell where you were staring. That’s…embarrassing. You swallowed hard, and quickly looked away, taking a long swig of your drink. If anyone else at the table noticed the interaction, they didn’t react. Katie started in on you immediately, dragging you into whatever she had been talking about before, and from there you spent the rest of the evening integrating yourself into the team.

The bar was really only starting to fill up when Kim decided it was time for you all to get a move on. There was some light-hearted grumbling, but everyone was professional enough to know how to behave. You had popped into the toilet before leaving, and when you came out of the stall, Leah was washing her hands. You hesitated for a brief moment before moving up to the sink next to her to wash your own hands, the little bit of alcohol you consumed tonight just enough to embolden you.

“Man, Williamson, what kind of a world is this where you’ve got those legs and no rhythm,” you teased, quickly busying yourself with the most thorough hand-wash you’ve ever done so you didn’t have to look over at her and see how poorly she took the remark.

“You spend a lot of time thinking about my legs?”

You froze. It would seem she didn’t take it too poorly at all. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you turned off the sink and turned to look at her. She was staring at you again. Seemed like maybe she did that a lot.

“Yeah, maybe,” you finally said. She hmmed a bit and cocked her head to the side. The glint in her eye was the only thing that kept you from worrying you were being too forward, and you silently prayed it wasn’t a trick of the fluorescent lighting overhead.

“You think you’re being all charming, with your little jokes?”

“No, not really,” you shrugged. “I think I have the personality of a 14-year-old boy and it’s the only way I know how to flirt with you.”

Leah changed at that. Her posture shifted. Her shoulders dropped slightly. The glint in her eye was gone. You fucked up, you thought. You’ve been here for four days and you already fucked up.

You moved to apologize at the same time Leah moved to respond, but both of you were interrupted by the door to the bathroom slamming open and a group of girls rushing in. You turned around and pushed yourself up against the edge of the sink to get out of the way, but Leah dipped her head down and shoved out past them, taking the opportunity to escape without you being able to stop her.

Yep. You fucked up.

[fangsyouverymuch01]

Just friends

Summery: The hero of Baldur's Gate greatest battlefield is now drunkenly returning home from the tavern because your connection to the arcane world is dying, and it has been for months. Adding to it, is your unresolved feelings from a certain vampire you've sworn to forget.

Rolan and Lia, aiding you in your search for answers, are determined to divert your mind from troubles. Unbeknownst to you, this night is destined to change everything.

Pairing: Astarion x f!tav, Astarion x f!reader , Rolan x reader

Warnings: Fightning, sort of depressed reader, drinking, Astarion being a prick

Tags: Slow burn, friends to lovers

Note: This took way too long to write, and tbh I'm scared to publish it. Had a hard time coming up with a plot that would make sense (and yes this is the underdark/menzoberranzan fic)

Nevertheless, hope you enjoy and stick around for more parts in the future.

In front of you is an array of literature varying from books, scrolls and notes. Just like yesterday and the day before that. Picking up yet another scroll and unrolling it, the words painted on it turns into a blur. Arcane symbols dance before your eyes but the contents of the page escapes your fleeting mind and it drifts to past memories of Moonrise Towers. 

“...And all I had to do was not fall for you… Which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart,” he pauses, searching for the right words to continue. “You’re incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

Stunned by his confession, your own voice momentarily failed you. The Elf spoke again, revealing a truth that cut through your heart like a blade.“Being close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back for him.”

Astarion further explains his train of thought, you could see his mouth moving but not a word reached your ears. Sadness, confusion, happiness and anger; the emotions mixed and collided within you. Was your relationship built on lies? Had you somehow forced him to sleep with you? It was all so much.

“I don't know how else to be with someone, No matter how much I’d like to.” 

You’d decided to remain just friends, and it had felt like the right choice. Liberating even, seeing Asterion grow into a person no longer controlled by fear. But now, you wallowed in selfishness due to your aching heart. Now it is the thing that keeps you from focusing on the task ahead. Now it is the thing keeping your from nights embrace, your body twisting and turning when the moon shone through the curtains. Now it is the numb feeling whilst faceless men sing your name between your legs. The decision, made with the intention of preserving your friendship, now felt as liberating as a chain strung to your neck. 

Moreover, you haven't seen him in weeks -  or could it be months? The passage of time blurs and certainly eludes you. Yet, effortlessly, his image flits into your head - bouncy white curls, piercing crimson eyes, a sharp nose and that godsdamn smirk. Interchangeable in your memory - forever young - he remains a vivid specter that refuses to fade.

Breaking your train of thought, there is a tap on your shoulder, a figure crouching over you to peer at the discoveries revealed in the scroll. 

“Found anything of interest?” Rolan spoke, eyeing you from above. 

“Ehm no, just lost in thought.” you replied, attempting to shake off the lingering memories that had clouded your focus. 

“Well, neither have I.” he puffed out a breath of air, “My best bet is to return to the House of Grief for more answers so I could study the mirror you spoke off.”

“I’m not sure they’d warmly welcome me back after my latest visit.” you let out a strained chuckle, struck by a memory of  Viconas lifeless person as Shadowhearts struck the merciless final blow to her chest. 

Since your time in the House of Grief, your bond with magic has slowly dwindled. The once-familiar currents of arcane energy now seemed distant. Magic had been an extension of you, and its absence felt akin to a cruel mutilation and you were desperate to feel magic coursing through your veins once more. Your desperation had led you here - Sorcerous Sundries, for any clue or hope that you might become whole again.

"Anyhow, have you heard from Gale yet?" you inquired, seeking a distraction from your thoughts.

"He deemed Waterdeep fruitless in our search and should be arranging plans to continue in Neverwinter as we speak," Rolan replied, his eyes pacing the floorboards beneath him. "Maybe we should pause our search for today; the sun is setting, and you, my friend, are in desperate need of a drink." His suggestion hung in the air, a respite offered amidst your futile search for answers. 

You had no energy to protest, you truly wanted to go, you really did. But what you needed was to dive into the mountains of untouched texts sprawled in a ring in front of you. 

Lazily tracing the arcane figures, partly lost in deliberation you answer “Thank you for the offer but I shouldn’t, you go and I’ll stay here.”

"Come on, just one drink. It won't solve all our problems, but it might provide a momentary escape," he insisted, recognizing the heaviness in your gaze. "We can resume our search tomorrow with clearer minds. Trust me, it's what you need right now."

A defeated sign escapes your lips “Fine, one drink but no more than that”. 

Laying a victorious touch on your arm, the tiefling grinned, "That's the spirit!" Helping you up, he proceeded, "The Elf Song in an hour; I need to run something by Lia first." With determined steps, he led you away from your search for answers in the pile of books. 

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

The warm light emanating from the Elfsongs' painted windows cast a glow over your figure as you linger outside the bustling door. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses weave together, that should beckon you inside but it doesn't. Nothing seems to pique your interest these days. The hero of Baldurs Gate was but a mere shell of what bards sang about and the thought of being recognized, of eyes filled with anticipation that lingers for extraordinary tales to be told - you can't stand it. 

Adding to your dread, are the invasive questions about your companions - about Astarion. Head spinning and lips slowly drooping to frown, you instinctively recoil from the entrance. 

With a heavy sigh, you reach into your bag, fingers wrapping around a familiar flask. The cool metal brings a small comfort, and in contrast your throat burns as you gulp down liquid courage. 

Stealing yourself against the prying questions and the weight of everyone's expectations, you push open the tavern door, stepping into the warm embrace of the tavern, where Rolan and Lia await, immersed in their own stories. You offer them a weak smile as you approach the booth. 

“There you are, I almost thought you wouldn’t show but I’m glad to be proven wrong.”

“Come, sit!” Lia urges, patting the cushion beside her. As you settle into the booth, you can't help but notice the curious eyes around you.

Gods no.

Instinctively, your finger twirls and you mutter a spell to cast disguise self, only to be reminded of your uselessness. A tinge of frustration tightens your jaw, quickly masked by a forced smile. You divert your gaze, hoping to shield yourself from the unwanted attention. 

“What’s your poison for today?” Lia asks, a mischievous smile spreading from cheek to cheek. Her breath smells of alcohol; Lia and Rolan had clearly begun drinking ahead of you. Not that you could judge them, having indulged in your trusted flask outside the tavern minutes ago. 

“I’ll have what you’ve had.”

“Coming right up!” Lia responds, her enthusiasm undeterred. She signals the bartender, and soon enough, a trio of drinks arrives at the table. 

Rolan is the first to grip the glass and then clear his throat, “To us,  and Gale - and hope that tomorrow will give us more answers.” 

One drink turns into four drinks, and at some point, you lose track of both time and the units you’ve allowed to warm your gullet. Honestly it’s quite funny, why did you worry so much before? Silly you with silly thoughts! Almost as silly as Rolan’s eyes focused on your neck. He looks funny with his eyebrows furrowed, and a chuckle escapes your lips at the sight.

“You’ll get wrinkles if you keep staring at my neck like that, Rolan.”

“I did no such thing!” he retorts as a flush creeps up on the tiefling's cheeks.

Lia heartily laughs, swaying a bit, and offers her hand to you. “Join me for a dance, will you?” The music in the tavern entices you and despite the blurred lines of inebriation, you take Lia’s hand and step into the lively dance floor.

Lia practically dragged you through the crowded tavern, Rolan following closely behind to his best abilities. The dance floor was filled with twirling bodies, in rhythm with the bard's melodies. Pulling your arm up, Lia spins and chuckles as you reach the bards scene. Rolan, with a playful twinkle in his eyes, reaches the two of you and joins the dance. The world seems to sway with the music and for the first time in a long time, a genuine smile spreads across your face. 

As you moved to the music, you sensed Rolans’ proximity. His hand found its way to the small of your back, guiding you through the intricate steps of the dance. The unfamiliar warmth of his hand against your skin was a stark contrast to the memories of Asterion's cool touch.The bard's music kept on playing, the tunes bouncing off the plucked strings, the odor of alcohol on his breath, and hot uncontrolled bodies clashing against your person -  Gods, its too much. You can't stay a minute longer or you might suffocate. 

“I need some air,” you mumble and offer an apologizing smile, excusing yourself as the dance continues without you. 

“Wait!” a muffled voice calls out, but you pretend that you’re too far off to hear. 

Faces blurred into a sea of strangers, and the lively chatter became an indistinguishable hum. Your breath quickened, and you couldn't shake the feeling of faceless men and women judging your every step. Because now they know - they know that you were no hero of Baldur's gate, just another drunk who couldn’t even cast a simple spell to disguise herself from embarrassment. 

Pathetic. 

As you stepped out into the cool night air, the contrast between the warmth of the dance floor and the refreshing chill outside sent shivers down your spine. Crouching down you plant your hands to your knees, trying to catch your breath and ease your mind. 

A moment later, the tavern door swung open abruptly, an curly haired man emerging as he wrestled with another almost feral one. The creature thrashed and snarled at the curly haired man as he strained against the frenzied movements. Caught off guard, you stood up in the shadow beside the entrance, your breath hitching again as you observed the scene unfold. 

Seizing the opportunity to make sense of the situation, you assertively approached the struggling men, dagger clutched and ready strike if needed. The curly-haired man's eyes flickered toward you and your gaze met his.

Deep crimson eyes, ivory curls, and are those fangs?

No, that can't be.

"Astarion?" you uttered, your voice a hushed whisper that sliced through the night, your eyes fixed on the elf's face in utter disbelief. There he was, right before you.

Astarion's attention shifted to the rabid man, deftly maneuvering to subdue him. He restrained the creature, halting any further erratic movements. With precision, Astarion extracted a flask from his belt, causing the man's struggles to intensify. Despite the increased resistance, Astarion's actions remained calculated and exact.

With the man momentarily contained, Astarion secured him in place with one hand, the other retrieving a flask. He raised it to his mouth, a subtle glint of fangs emerging as he skillfully removed the lid with his teeth.

"Hello," the rogue spoke, pausing to inject the man with the unfamiliar substance. The feral struggles ceased, and Astarion continued, his tone now imbued with a nuanced warmth, "darling."

Stunned you remain constrained where you stood. This is real, Astarion is here after days, weeks and months of him plaguing your thoughts every waking moment. Your mind races, trying to process the surreal present. A rumble in your stomach seems to pull you out of your trance, nausea spreading in your throat. 

Keep. it. down. 

“Care to help or do you intend to stand there and just gawk?”

Once more the door beside you swung open, a tall figure emerges with swaying strands of long hair catching in the wind, intent on reaching the paralyzed man and Astarion. 

“We said no killing, remember?" he spoke.

"Oh, my apologies, brother. I must have forgotten our little agreement when I was wrestling the feral dog whilst you were nowhere to be seen.”

At that moment, you recognized the man - Leon. His expression remained stoic, though a flicker of irritation crossed his features. "Your theatrics aren't amusing, Astarion. We need to keep them alive; this is not the time nor place for you to display your unique methods."

You finally had a surge to act, fumbled in your bag and searched for any potion or scroll that could help. A glass vial of what seemed to be a healing potion met your fingers, and you pulled it out, unscrewing the cap with shaky hands. 

“Here take this,” you called out, holding the potion aloft, offering a forced smile amidst the charged atmosphere. 

As you step forward to give Leon the vial, Rolan stumbles out the tavern door, tipsy and eyes searching for something in the night. You’d completely forgotten about Rolan and Lia, they’d probably been worried since you hadn’t returned. His eyes widened at the chaotic scene before him, and he instinctively moved to stand in front of you, a protective gesture. His hand flickered with a small flame, ready to defend against any potential threat. 

"What in the hells is happening here?" Rolan demanded, a mix of concern and bewilderment in his voice.

Before anyone could respond, Astarion let out a small laugh, one that you couldn't seem to decipher the meaning of. What was so funny? Rolan certainly wasn't amused, and the flame rose higher from his palm at the elf's dismissive laugh. Leon's gaze moved to Rolan, his hands raising in a gesture of peace, showing that they were no threat to him or you.

“Got yourself a knight in shining armor, have you now?” Astarion remarked, a sly grin playing on his lips.

Knight in shining armor? The words stung, and a spark of anger flared within you. Rolan didn't need to save you nor did you want him to. Opening your mouth to retort, Leon interjected, his voice firm and commanding.

“Astarion, don’t,” Leon snapped at him, a stern edge to his voice. He then looked directly at you, his expression softening. “We don’t want to fight you. Let's find a quieter spot to talk, and we’ll explain everything.”

You nodded, the tension in the air making it clear that this was not the time for confrontation. Rolan, still wary but trusting your judgment, lowered the flame in his palm. With cautious glances exchanged between the group, you began to move away from the chaotic scene, guided by Leon's lead to a more secluded spot where answers awaited. 

[xxxdreamscapexxx]

Sacrifices series: Chapter 3: Face to face with a monster

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word count: 8k

Series Summary: After closing the Darkhold, Wanda struggled to find her place in the word. Until she met you that is. And in you, she found hope. But the past has a way of coming back and she’s faced with an impossible choice once again. A choice that’s going to break her heart. Chapter summary: Finding the layer, doesn't mean she's captured the monster, who was terrorizing the city and Wanda needs to see you at least once, before she has to go back to her hunt, but it seems the sorcerer has plans of his own...

Warning: angst!; emotional trauma; Hurt - No Comfort ; Blood, human sacrifice, gory details of a mutilated body, dark magic... violence, possession, manipulation; That should be it, but in case I missed anything, please let me know. Also, Reader will be making a very small appearance in this chapter, but she has a significant role to play in the future. Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3

Wanda dropped the piles of books in her trunk, closing it with a loud thud as she looked at the building in the distance. She could see agents coming in and out, carrying objects, while others were escorting people out. Even from afar, she could see those people were scared, worried where they’ll live next, how they’ll afford it. They held their children close, protective, even in their fear. So brave. She knew what it was like to be displaced, to have your whole life ripped from you, to watch it all crumble down in an instant. She knew how much courage it took, to make the next step, and the one after that… She didn’t know how she’ll interview all these people tomorrow. She didn’t know if she’ll be able to carry the burden of their pain and grief as well. Yet, there was no one else to do it. Only she knew what to look for, what to ask… Only she knew how to get the information that even they didn’t know they could have.

The prospect of invading so many minds, of taking on so many lives filled her with pain. All she wanted was to curl in a ball, her head in your lap. She wanted to feel your hands run through her hair, soothing and soft. She wanted to feel you close once more, to have you fully wrapped around her, until she could forget that this ever happened. She wanted peace. She wanted what was stolen from her. But she couldn’t have any of it back, until she defeats this monster first… Even after being in his apartment, after coming so close to him, she had no idea how to find him. He had left no clues as to his next move, or his plans. None that she could see. But the agents will go more thoroughly through his things and have a report for her by tomorrow morning. Perhaps they’ll find something. Until then, she was free to go home and rest. But the compound, with its grey walls felt nothing like the cozy home she had with you. Her room never felt as welcoming as the shared bedroom she had with you. It was all so empty without you. She found no joy in cooking now, since she had no one to share her meals with. She found no joy in walks, since it always reminded her of the days she’d take you and Bella out to different parks to walk and play… Even her sitcoms brought little comfort. Yes, no one got hurt in them, it wasn’t that kind of show. But the real world was nothing like a sitcom. People got hurt every day, they were hungry and poor and lived on streets with nothing but the mercy of strangers to help them face the next day. There were so many in pain. When she remembered that, it was always so hard to fight back the inner voice that told her that she could fix it all. She was the Scarlet Witch after all. She was born to rule the world. It was her birthright. Her destiny. She could make sure that no one got hurt ever again, that no child was ever orphaned, no one ever had to leave their loved ones, no one had to get hurt. She could do that. Wanda could feel the magic rising within her, the raw power of chaos opening up doors for her that were closed to everyone else. She could do anything. She could win this fight with the snap of her fingers. She could erase evil from this world. And they would all thank her for it. Those poor people that she watched get evacuated. They would all be so grateful. They would worship her, just as they were meant to…

Wanda shook her head, blinking a few times, until her eyes focused once more. Red whisps of magic were swirling around her, her blackened fingers moving through the air. She was casting. Not that she knew what. But she knew she needed to get her emotions under control. Keeping the darkness at bay was much harder, when it promised everything she ever wanted. She could have Pietro back. Her boys. And her parents. She could win you back too. If that didn’t work, she could always make you forget she ever left… “No!” She shook her head in defiance. She knew better than to listen to those thoughts. She crawled her way back from an emotional hell, fighting such thoughts. She knew better than to trust them. With a final glance towards the grey building, that seemed to stand like a hungry giant over the people below, she got into her car and drove away. She was done for today. And now she could finally see you. She could finally drive back to your house, she could see you again, hear your voice… She could feel human again for a few minutes. The redhead drove slowly, her windows rolled down, so she could breathe in the fresh air. She needed to get the stench of that place out of her nose, out of her hair and her clothes. She felt dirty. And she almost felt bad for making her way to you, covered in such filth. Then again, it’s not like she was going to knock on your door. Then again… Why shouldn’t she? Why should she deny herself this one thing, this one kindness, when she has sacrificed so much already? What was to stop her from knocking? From walking in… Who could stand in her path, should she choose to pull you in her embrace. Who had the power to stop her? She could kiss you again. Taste you and feel you, like she’s been dreaming of. She could…

“No!” She almost screamed, hitting the breaks. It was just in time too, a pedestrian was crossing the street, standing frozen in fear of her approaching car. She was seconds away from hitting him. She almost didn’t stop. She had barely even seen him. It took the man a moment to get a hold of himself, before he ran the rest of the way to the other end of the street, looking back at her with fearful, yet angry eyes. Wanda couldn’t blame him. But she also couldn’t quite bring herself to care. She could tell that something was wrong. She wasn’t usually like this. Distracted, careless, cold. She didn’t have such dark thoughts either. Not usually. She was much better at controlling them. She studied calming techniques, meditation, she went through every enlightenment course she could find, looking for a way to keep herself in check, but it was especially hard this time. There was just this voice, in the back of her head, a low murmur that had found its way in and just wouldn’t leave her alone. How long has she been hearing it? This voice. Why was it trying to get her to come to you? Except… That’s not quite what it wanted. You were just a suggestion. A means to an end. A way for her to give in. Yes, that’s what it wanted. It wanted her to give in. Wanted her to unleash her powers. Wanted to set the Scarlet Witch free. It wanted her to use that magic inside. It wanted her to let all that chaos loose and never stop.

The honking of cars behind her startled Wanda out of her thoughts and into motion. She sped away from the spot with a heavy heart and she contemplated if she should even come see you tonight. It was dangerous in her state. It was almost reckless, tempting herself like that. Especially with how off she’d been feeling and acting. It would be a mistake… She was once again pulled from her thoughts, when she saw something strange out of the corner of her eye. She was driving past some neighbourhood, all the houses framing the road. But something was wrong. She could feel eyes on her. She could see old ladies in their kitchens, looking out the windows, mothers with strollers, not even looking at where they were going, too busy staring at her… Men, who openly followed her car, as she drove. And then something else. A man with eyes so black, there was no white left in them and a face so sunken in, it looked stolen from a cadaver. A man, who seemed to smile at her, as if seeing an old friend, before he turned away from the road and walked away. Wanda hit the brakes so hard, she almost hit her head on the steering wheel from the force. She felt shaken, like she had witnessed something important, something she should be better at naming. Like she was walking in the dark, her eyes closed, allowing herself to be led. She realized that this place was not her usual route to your house, that she’s never even been here. Just as she realized that whoever this man was, he knew to expect her. He had felt her presence here, known of her arrival, he was watching her, before his eyes ever fell upon her… But how? She pulled the car over and locked it, using her magic to seal the trunk, just to make sure that the books inside wouldn’t “disappear” while she was chasing whatever this was. She had to walk a little, to reach the spot she first saw him, and she looked around nervously to see where he might have went. The eyes of strangers followed every step she took, not even considering to hide their actions, yet none of them approached her. Wanda could almost smell that same sweet, yet repulsive smell she had first felt when she entered the building she was inspecting. The one where He used to live. It was faint, but unmistakable and a strange sense of longing washed over her. A desire to breathe in deeply. To let herself be intoxicated. The voice in her head salivated at the prospect. Hungry.

She decided to ignore it. Pushing back against the low whisper, that told her to give in. Instead she started to walk in the direction she saw him turn. Beyond the first street, the houses started to look poorer, the yards smaller, the windows covered. She could see dogs sometimes, uneasy and nervous, barking in warning, but never really getting close. They were scared. Just like the people who lived here. But scared of whom? The sorcerer? She couldn’t tell. As she walked, the voice in the back of her head, the one she knew to be the witch within, kept warning her. There was danger here. She could feel it. There was darkness too. And the eyes that followed her on the street, seemed to watch her here too. It made her feel surrounded on all sides.

“It’s a trap.” Her inner voice warned. She could feel herself tensing up, readying for a battle, all her senses on high alert. Her magic was just at the tip of her fingers, making her eyes glow that deep scarlet she knew so well, yet there was no one around. At this point she almost hoped someone would try to make a move. Give her an excuse to release all that pent up energy inside, yet no one did. Eventually the street came to a sudden end, a single entrance to a building signifying her only way forward. The door had a padlock and a rusty chain to keep out intruders, runes covering the links in protection. “Pathetic.” Wanda laughed bitterly, the words loud enough to be heard if someone was nearby. That same energy she felt swirling just beneath the surface suddenly came forth, pouring out of her in a burst and shooting forward. It crashed against the building, taking the whole door and parts of the surrounding wall with it, a loud bang ringing in her ears as it fell to the ground. Dust flew everywhere and she waited for it to settle, not wanting to breathe any of it in, before she finally walked forward. The ridiculous chain was still in takt, the runes glowing a dull grey. She laughed humourlessly once more, stepping inside the building and looking around, her steps echoing off the walls. “One chain?” She called out in a challenge. “I can take down the whole building.”

Her voice rang clearly in the large space, that seemed to have been a factory or a storage hanger once, but no response actually came. There was just silence, mixed with that sweet, yet repulsive smell again. “It’s too easy.” Her inner awareness warned, a low hiss in her ear that she felt an almost compulsive need to swat away, even if it was coming entirely from within. Met with no response, Wanda walked further inside, studying the building wearily. In all honesty, she was getting impatient with this whole charade. She didn’t want to be here, playing hide and seek with a psychopath. She wanted to be at the house with you. She wanted you in her arms again, wanted to have you in a tight embrace and breathe you in. Wanted, no craved your warmth against her stiffened, aching muscles. She explored the floor, impatiently walking around, being met with nothing but decay and ruin. There was nothing but old junk, dust and the unmistakable signs of rats and pigeons taking over the building and claiming it as their own. It looked abandoned. But she wouldn’t be here if it really was abandoned, would she? He wouldn’t try to put protective runes, if there wasn’t something important here.

With that in her mind, Wanda summoned her magic, using it to propel herself in the air. From above, Wanda could see that there was nothing special in this room and she moved quietly into the next, passing through a small hallway, only to find a man hunched over a pot, stirring the content inside. He had his back to her and for some reason she felt the need to sneak closer, even though it was impossible for him not to know she was here, considering all the noise she made. “Welcome, Miss Maximoff.” He said, without turning, “I’ve been expecting you.” The greeting startled Wanda for a moment, making her stop mid-flight, before she moved forward, flying over him and the strange liquid he stirred, murky and  filled with bits and pieces of something she couldn’t see clearly enough to name. What she could recognize however was that distinct smell that she felt ever since she left his apartment. That repulsive, yet attractive smell that urged her to breathe it in deeply. That is, until she came closer and Wanda realized that the small objects Wanda was observing, were actually eyes.

“Isn’t it poetic? Stolen eyes, to grant you stolen sight!” He said with a small giggle. “That’s what you used that poor man’s eyes for?” Wanda asked, her voice shaking. She tried not to look at the ugly pot, filled with the murky liquid or to picture the man on the wall, with his empty sockets and a gaping hole in his chest. “Poor man?” The Sorcerer laughed. “He was hardly an innocent.” He hinted. “He liked to watch. In fact it’s all he wanted.” The man continued, words slow, as if explaining to a child. “Do you know how many women they forced, just so he could watch?” The Sorcerer asked, raising his hand, so he could make an obscene gesture, that imitated self-pleasure. It made Wanda sick to her stomach. “So you killed him?” She asked. “How noble.” Her voice was mocking and full of disgust. “I thought it was rather poetic in a way. He liked to watch. And thanks to him, I now see everything.” He said in a smooth voice. “Everything?” Wanda scoffed. “Aren’t you a bit full of yourself?” “I saw you coming.” He retorted in that same calm demeanour. “The all-powerful Scarlet Witch.” He said with a purr. “If you wanted to see me, there are far easier ways.” Wanda replied. She wanted to bait him, wanted to know his plans, while she still had him here. She knew that if it came to a battle, he may not survive. Once she unleashed her powers there was no telling what will happen and she needed to know why he did what he did. Needed to know if there was a greater power behind him. Truly, she needed to know why he did all these terrible acts. Needed to know if he was the monster that he was presenting himself to be. “But this one is rather effective.” He smiled at her. “I saw you look into my apartment. Saw you take things that don’t belong to you.” He accused. “How did you see me there? I was alone.” Wanda narrowed her eyes. “All living things need to eat and drink, Miss Maximoff.” The man explained. “And once they do, they’re mine to use.” “That’s disgusting.” She spat, her hands balling into fists. “Oh, don’t play innocent now. You’ve studied magic. I believe one Agatha Harkness had a very impressive collection on the subject. You’ve read her books. You know there is always a price to be paid.” He spoke patiently, as if he could somehow convince her that he was right. “Well, perhaps not for you…” He trailed off. “With control over pure chaos, you don’t need to pay that price, do you? But the rest of us… We still have to follow the rules.” “Trust me, I’ve paid…” Wanda growled, the control over her emotions fraying. “I’ve lost more than you can imagine.” “Ah, yes, of course.” He nodded slowly. “You and I are kindred spirits in that regard.” “Never compare yourself to me.” Wanda spoke through gritted teeth, the urge to hurt him growing stronger. She could hardly hold herself back, desperate to end all this. She felt so tired.

“But it’s true.” He argued, raising his finger in the air, signalling for her to be patient. “I too lost my parents very young.” He began, taking a step closer to her. “And the world is rarely kind to orphans, Miss Maximoff. Had to go hungry, dressed in the rags others gave away to the orphanage. Had to go to school in them too. Other children are hardly kind to their peers.” He lowered his head for a moment, countless cruelties passing through his memory and flooding Wanda’s thoughts. “But I found an escape.” He continued. “I found that knowledge truly does give you power. I found my first real spell when I was 16. It was just a stupid trick. Turning sugar into salt.” He laughed humourlessly. “It was useless for more than a prank, but it opened my eyes. There was real magic in this world. I knew it now. I had the proof for it. My history teacher was stirring it right into her coffee! So I looked. Researched spells and grimoires, travelled on foot, or hitchhiked to chase down any lead for real magic wielders, looked for amulets and enchanted objects. I built my collection, knowing that one day, I’ll use it to make the world better!” He exclaimed, coming to the culmination of his little speech. “But then I found something better. I found the cult of Salvain. I thought it was nothing more than a cult to a non-existing God, but I went to the forest of perpetual silence, where his followers live. It wasn’t easy, trust me, but I made it there.  Have you ever experienced mind-numbing nothingness, Miss Maximoff? Have you ever been in a place so quiet, that every sound is swallowed, to a point you can’t even scream, because nothing actually reaches your ears? It was horrible. I was lost in there for days, walking aimlessly and praying for death to mercifully take me. I was dehydrated, hungry, never met another soul… And just when I thought I would die, I heard him. I heard his voice.” He said with fire in his eyes, his face betraying real emotion for the first time. “He’s been speaking to me ever since. Helping me. Guiding me. I let him inside me and he saved me. He showed me the way to salvation and he’s going to save everyone.” He explained with what appeared to be genuine excitement and appreciation, his words hanging in the air for a long moment. “You’re actually insane…” Wanda finally spoke, her head tilting to the side. “Oh, but I’m not.” The sorcerer said with a grin. “He’s here.” He said, closing his eyes in bliss. “He knows you.” He whispered teasingly, stepping closer still. He was just a few feet away now, giving Wanda a chance to take a closer look.

Underneath the grey skin and sunken eyes, underneath the painfully thin, bony face, he was actually a young man. So young. More a boy, than a sorcerer and a monster. But there was very little of him left. She could see the corruption of dark magic spreading over him like a disease. It was probably what ate away at his mind. “Don’t you want to speak to him, Miss Maximoff?” He asked, his big eyes fixing her in a predatory way. “He’s been waiting to speak to you, you know.” “How about this…” Wanda started. “You surrender yourself quietly, and I’ll talk to him.” She suggested, hoping to be able to contain him without having to hurt him. Despite his seemingly docile appearance, he had managed to kill several people already. She couldn’t be sure what he was actually capable of. “I won’t resist.” He told her gently, hands raising in the air in a gesture of surrender. “You shouldn’t resist either. Can’t you feel him calling you? He’s been talking to you for a while now.” Wanda thought of saying something sassy in return, but the words died down in her throat, before she could utter them. The sorcerer leaped forward, grasping her head on either side, his long, bony fingers digging into her skin. “Just listen!” He hissed, before a blast of red magic pushed him away from her and he fell to the ground. She heard him gasp from the impact, his right hand clutching his side painfully, but when she looked at his face, he looked amused. “He told me you wouldn’t just hear us out.” The sorcerer said bitterly. “But thankfully, Salvain has a solution for everything.” He giggled “What did you do?” Wanda growled, her teeth bared. This was the confession she was waiting for. His next sacrifice, his next victim, his plans. Once he gave those away, she could be done with all this. “You don’t feel it yet?” He asked with a raised brow. “You have a strong mind. Pushing him away all this time. But even you can’t resist him forever.” “What are you talking about?” She asked, feeling a bit dizzy as a wave of that horrible smell hit her nostrils again and she had to put her hand to her mouth and nose just so she wouldn’t gag. Instead of a response, he waited, circling her now, though he kept a safe distance. His watchful eyes seemed to never leave her and she was once again feeling dizzy from the way he circled her. It was almost like vertigo, but it came with the unpleasant return of that nagging voice in her head, that wanted to seduce her. She could stop all this right now. She could just blast him with her magic. He had attacked her once, had he not? She could claim his death on self-defence and leave all of this behind. No one had to know what happened. There were no witnesses, no cameras…

No! She had to shake the thought away. This wasn’t her way. She could easily immobilize him and let S.H.I.E.L.D deal with him. She didn’t need to hurt him. She was not going to become a killer. But the Scarlet Witch is a killer, a thought flashed through Wanda’s mind. And even though it seemed like it came from within, even though it had her voice, she finally realized that it wasn’t. There was a presence in the back of her mind, a voice that whispered in her ear, disrupting her thoughts. “Now you get it.” The sorcerer smiled, smug and self-satisfied. “How are you doing that?” Wanda hissed at him, fighting the urge to slap his smile away. She could easily knock him down. He seemed so weak, so fragile… It would be so easy to just… Wanda shook the thoughts away again, starting to get angry at this stupid game they were playing. “I’m not doing anything.” The man in front of her responded. “I have no power to influence you.” He told her softly. “Ordinary humans are easy, but you…” He shook his head. “You’re strong. I had to find a way to help you hear Him. ” “What did you do?” Wanda asked again, her voice shaking so much it sounded like a growl. She was losing her patience. Each second that passed between them felt like an eternity, fraying her nerves. Why not just be done with him? Whatever he planned would simply be left unfinished if he were to die… No, he could have accomplices, acolytes… She couldn’t afford to leave this unfinished. Not when so much was at stake. “I only helped you open your mind to him. That’s all.” He said with a surprisingly gentle voice. “I’m only helping you see. That’s what he wants as well. For you to see the good he can do in this world.” He said with a look of longing in his eyes. “He can do anything. Give you anything. You just have to let him come through…”

As the sorcerer spoke, Wanda’s vision slowly started to blur. The dizzy feeling she’d been fighting, suddenly overtook her and she felt like she was fainting. Except that wasn’t quite it either. It was more like she was being pulled underwater, supressed so deep within herself that she no longer felt one with her body. She was floating within her subconsciousness, a passenger in her own body. Her clothes were slowly changing, her comfortable pants and soft sweater that she wore suddenly fading and being replaced by her old suit. The boots and tights came first, her magic working its way up, red swirling around her and weaving the tight corset into place, her old cape flowing down her shoulders… Magic weaved itself in the places where the suit had torn, glowing… Then came her crown. It glowed in the same scarlet as her magic, surrounding her in unnatural light that looked both terrifying and regal. She’d never seen herself like that. She always felt like Wanda. But this was the Scarlet Witch. This is the destiny she kept rejecting.

“Why fight it, Wanda? This is who you were meant to be.” A voice creeped up on her, ringing all around her. She turned frantically to look for the source, but there was no one. The sorcerer was still in his spot, staring in awe of her, a deeply unsettling smile on his face. “Show yourself.” She challenged, sounding more scared than she liked, hoping to draw out the voice. “If you want to see me, you’ll have to invite me into your world.” Salvain said in a low voice. “Invite you, huh? So you need someone to let you through.” Wanda retorted, feeling some of her confidence return. Whatever entity this was, he couldn’t move into the world on his own. “Not just anyone, Wanda. I need you. Gorden over there was a good servant. He did as he was told, performed the rituals and cast the spells, but he’s not strong enough. His body is failing. He can’t pierce the veil and let me in.” The voice explained in a monotonous tone, as if talking about the weather and not a life. “But you can.” He said, a trace of a smile in his tone. A trace of urgency. “And what makes you think I will?” Wanda lifted her chin defiantly, her lips trembling in barely-contained anger. “Because I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted, Wanda. I can bring back all your friends. I can bring back Vision… You can have your brother back! Your parents too. Your boys! I can make it so they never, ever died. I can make sure they never do again.” He said seductively, his voice bouncing around her skull with all the weight of his promises.

“I tried that!” Wanda hissed, her fists balling at the memory of Westview. “It doesn’t work. It’s not real.” She shook her head. “As powerful as you are, Scarlet Witch, you’ll always need your magic to sustain them. But I… Once I’m in this world, I can bring them back, make them real… I can make anything you want real… You can have your whole family back. I can give you back Vision. Or Y/N. Or even both?” He chuckled. “Both of them, so willing and loving… You’ll want for nothing, Wanda.” “No!” Wanda growled, but to her surprise, her body moved. Her fingers glowed, whisps of magic swirling around them slowly. “It seems your counterpart disagrees.” Salvain purred. “No! You can’t do that!” Wanda’s eyes widened, filled with panic. “I’m not doing anything.” He chimed in, amused. “You are doing this.” He explained. “It’s ok, Wanda. I understand. Aren’t you tired? Aren’t you so utterly exhausted of having to fight for a modicum of peace? For a place in the world? For even a crumb of love… Aren’t you angry? At all the injustice in this world? At the people who turn a blind eye to suffering, to poverty, to strife? You can make it stop! You’ve always had the power to stop it. You can rule this world… But you don’t want that, do you Wanda? I understand… I can help…” “Stop it!” Wanda screamed, her voice bouncing around in her head. She could see more of her magic seeping out of her, now a hurricane of red that swirled around her, building and waiting to be unleashed. The sorcerer, Gorden, was on his knees, awe-stricken at the feet of the Scarlet Witch. His bony face looked even more sickly in the red glow of her power, yet he seemed so at peace. “It’s too late now, Wanda.” Salvain sounded almost smug. “It has already started. Gorden laid the path, now you will open the door and soon… I will walk in the world…” Wanda listened to his words, the terror inside her building at the prospect of what was coming. She had never heard of this entity, had no idea of his powers and if he could truly influence reality the way that he claimed. She hardly knew if that voice in her head was real or if this was all in her head and she was about to unleash her powers upon the world and destroy it. She only knew that she needed to regain her composure and her control over herself if she wanted to stand a chance against him. She focused her thoughts, ignoring his voice and the endless tirade that served no other purpose than to hurt her further and she tried to gain back some of her control, but every time she did, she felt herself being pushed away, her path blocked by an invisible force.

“It’s useless Wanda. There’s nowhere to go…” He chimed in, making her eyes snap open in annoyance. Her power was building, crackling in the air around her like a storm, the pressure in the room growing. If she unleashed that, she would rupture the veil between worlds, creating a passage for him and God only knows what else and she wouldn’t be able to stop any of it. “You’re not in control anymore.” He reminded gleefully. The words bounced around Wanda’s head, heavy and mocking in their finality. The magic that swirled around her now rose to filling the whole warehouse, thundering and waiting to be unleashed. It was almost time and she wouldn’t be able to stop it. She would once again fail. She would fail to protect you, to protect all the innocent people of this world, she would fail herself and her legacy… She would once again be a monster. With that realization Wanda broke down, falling to her knees and letting the tears that she’d been holding back for days finally fall freely. “I’m sorry…” She sobbed, her head bowing down in defeat. “Don’t be sorry, Wanda. You’re doing exactly what you were meant to.” Salvain said with a surprisingly gentle voice, as if talking to a child. “I wasn’t talking to you!” Wanda shouted suddenly, looking up. The Scarlet Witch was now floating, the magic and particles of dust swirling around her. She was getting ready to unleash it all. “I’m sorry I rejected you. I’m sorry I pushed you down and treated you like a disease to be cured. I’m sorry, that I pretended like you weren’t here all this time…” Her words died down into sobs, as she looked through her own eyes, a prisoner of her body now taken over by another. “I’m sorry I made you feel like this all this time.” She whispered. Wanda shook with sobs, her heart beating wildly in her chest, her thoughts a frantic mess that she could hardly distinguish anymore. She thought this would be the end. And selfishly, she regretted that she’ll spend it away from you, when suddenly a red glow illuminated her face and a gentle hand rested under her chin, urging her to look up.

There she was. The Scarlet Witch, in all her glory, was standing above her, her features unreadable. Salvain’s voice had quieted down, pushed aside by the presence of the witch. “I’m so sorry.” Wanda whispered again, her face wet with tears. She wasn’t sure how this moment was possible, both of them face to face, as her body continued to float into the air, magic crackling and threatening to be unleashed at any second, but as she looked at the face of the Scarlet Witch, she didn’t care. “I should have never neglected you.” She whispered at the witch, her green eyes full of regret. “It’s not just me you were hurting.” The witch said gently, her tone a stark contrast to her stronger, more defined features. “This rift between us, hurts us both. We were never meant to be separate. You and I are one, Wanda. The divide leaves vulnerable.” She explained, her strong hands helping Wanda to her feet. “We can only do this together.” “But…” Wanda looked confused. She was still in the air, or her body was, summoning more magic, the walls of the warehouse groining with the force of it. “We are meant to rule the world, Wanda. It is our destiny.” The witch reminded seriously. “Do you really think I’ll give away our throne?” She tilted her head, a sly smile starting to play on her lips. “So you have a plan.” Wanda questioned, an eyebrow rising. “No… We have a plan.” The witch corrected, her smile growing. She offered Wanda one of her hands, their palms touching. The feeling was electrifying. Wanda felt a surge of power pass through her, making her gasp. Than the Scarlet witch moved closer, their faces so close together, their noses almost touching and a warmth spread over her, a kind of relief that made her muscles relax. She allowed the witch even closer, her counterparts free hand wrapping around her waist in a gentle, confident motion. The softness in the other woman startled Wanda. She always saw the witch as ruthless and merciless… Thought of her rough and unforgiving. She always resented her for it as well. “Those were the traits you needed.” The witch suddenly said, a knowing look in her eyes, when she saw Wanda’s confused expression. “That’s not all that I am.” She said, her eyes softening once more.

She guided Wanda even closer, their bodies making contact and making Wanda shiver. The witch’s presence gave her this inexplicable sense of surety. Then calmness. And with it, a deep sense of belonging. And then a longing for more. Her hands wrapped around the witch’s shoulders, as if they were partners in a dance, strangely close and intimate in the bubble of privacy the Scarlet Witch had made within their mind. Their breathing synched together, their eyes locked and for a moment Wanda had the strangest urge to kiss the other woman, to run her hands through her hair and down her back and she felt that desire reflected in the features so identical to hers. On instinct she closed her eyes, lips parting slowly as she leaned in, their foreheads touching for a brief moment, before she tried leaning in even further, only to find the space empty. Wanda opened her eyes to find herself alone and she blinked a few times, questioning if this wasn’t just a figment of her imagination, before she felt that same sense of surety wash over her, her mind opening up and expanding to accept the witch within herself and allow her to merge, just as they were always meant to. Her mind’s eye suddenly opened to the universe as the knowledge and power of the Scarlet Witch bled into her, connecting them, until they were whole. As they merged, Wanda felt more powerful, more alive, more confident than she ever had been in her life. She could finally sense the real, raw strength of chaos magic and she opened her eyes to find herself back into her body, the center of a hurricane of magic that swirled around her and threatened to tear down the whole building.

Without wasting too much time, she focussed her strength, guiding that magic into a single point in the floor, feeling the vail between our world and the next start to bend under her strength. The ground shook and groaned, but gave way to her will, a portal starting to open, rimmed in scarlet. Beneath her Gorden had recovered from his stupor, stopped staring at her in awe and moved closer to the portal that formed, arms open in welcome to the God he had been serving all this time. Wanda sensed the approach of something powerful, something monstrous, as it neared the portal she was holding open and she braced herself for the moment he would pass. He paused some distance from the portal, the world on the other end black and filled with nothingness, before he surged through it. He passed smoothly, landing on the dirty floor of the warehouse, the portal closing shut behind him. Dazed by the strength the journey had taken, he didn’t seem to notice the trap of the Scarlet Witch and started to stand, feeling carried by weak, almost trembling legs. He looked around, winded, breathless, his eyes landing on Wanda, who used her powers to land on the floor softly, her red eyes staring at him. “You made the right choice, Wanda.” He started to say, his voice coming out rough and distorted. It sounded nothing like him, he realized and with a distrustful gaze, started to look down at himself.

That’s when he saw it. The skinny legs, frail frame, bony fingers connected to dry, vainy hands… And a whisper… Except this time it wasn’t the distant voice of a far-away acolyte, but a voice inside his own head. The voice of Gorden Shaw… Salvain felt himself smothered in Gordon’s body, so weak, so frail… A mortal shell too fragile to contain his strength. He had but a fraction of his abilities here and he wanted to free himself from the uncomfortable confines this body provided, but he seemed unable to leave, rattling inside his cage like a wild animal, before his eyes landed once again on Wanda. “How dare you!?” Salvain roared, realization painting Gorden’s bony face. “Release me, at once!” He demanded, his voice a growl. “I’m not holding you.” Wanda smirked. “You cannot exist in this realm without a body and yours didn’t make the trip… I’m afraid you and Gordon will have to share.” “You tricked me!” He exclaimed, enraged. “I did nothing of the sort.” Wanda retorted calmly. “Creating a passage isn’t easy and the veil has many layers. I lifted enough for your consciousness to pass through, but your body… Alas, that was left behind.” Wanda explained, summoning her magic, so she could show Salvain the image of his abandoned body, a mindless heap on the ground where he had passed through the portal. “If you don’t return back to it soon, I’m afraid it would die…” Wanda said with a mocking pout on her lips, the whisps of her magic fading. “You foolish girl!” Salvain growled, low and dangerous, his hands balling into fists. “You should have done this the easy way.” He snarled at her. Before Wanda could realize what he meant, a ball of energy formed into Gorden’s hand, now Salvain’s, and it shot toward her, barely giving her time to block, before it hit her straight in the chest. Another followed, than another, magic raining down on her as he gave her no time to do much more than protect herself from his attack. He groaned and grunted with the effort of it, breathing shallow. “If you would not welcome me, Scarlet Witch, you will fear me!” He exclaimed, sending more balls of energy her way, before he used his abilities to lift her off her feet and fling her across the room. Wanda tried to cushion her landing against a wall, but still groaned when she fell on the floor, feeling several bruises form on her knees, but she pushed herself to stand upright, summoning her own powers and throwing a few energy blasts his way. He blocked them, teeth bared, grunting from the unfamiliar feeling of being inside another’s body. In retaliation he looked around, lifting pieces of metal, wood and brick into the air and sending them flying toward Wanda, who tried to dodge them, but hissed when a sharp nail flew passed her, tearing the flesh in her forearm.

“Aren’t you tired of this charade, Wanda?” He asked with a note of challenge. “Pretending to care about all those ridiculous mortals out there? Pretending to be moral, when I know what’s inside you. You wanted to kill Gorden. You want to kill him still. Be done with all this, so you can walk away and find your little girlfriend. That’s what you really want, isn’t it? Why not just go do that? Or maybe I’ll go find her, once I’m done with you. Show her some real horrors.” He smiled, crooked and ugly. The mention of you and the clear threat he made had Wanda’s blood boiling. Gordon’s features, if sickly before, had now turned wild and monstrous, his eyes bloodshot, his mouth wet, like a rabid animal, cheeks even more hollow now. Salvain’s presence and the energy it took to sustain him, as well as the magic he used to fight Wanda clearly took their toll and the thought of this thing making its way to you made her sick to her stomach. “I would never let that happen!” She spat, gathering her strength and summoning her magic. She levitated in the air, the scarlet whisps of her magic surrounding her once more as she rose higher and higher, her form almost reaching the ceiling, the ground once again trembling, as she made it all crash down.

She watched the rubble start to fall, the ceiling and walls of the warehouse collapsing, chunks of concrete and metal piling over one another, a cloud of dust and a thundering crash sounding around her as she watched Gorden’s body disappear from view. A part of her regretted the unfortunate end of his life. A part of her recognized his suffering and the inner turmoil he must have felt. Another part of her felt glad. Felt relieved he was gone… Or at least she thought he was. Very few could survive the collapse of a building. But S.H.I.E.L.D would have to confirm that. She saw their black cars from the air even now, saw a few helicopters heading in her direction as well, some government, but some of it was the press. Of course, reporters would want to capture this, even if they weren’t sure what they were filming. It would be golden none the less. Even she knew that. After all, the Scarlet Witch was hovering in the air, a collapsed building on the ground… She’d be on the news and the first page of every newspaper and magazine for weeks! Wanda was about to float down, try to give them less of a show, when a sudden rumble sounded from the rubble and a deep feeling of dread settled over her. An unnerving thought crept its way to her, causing a shiver to pass through her body. The confirmation of her fear came in the form of a chunk of concreate that flew towards her head and narrowly missed her. But it wasn’t what scared her most. What she feared came after.   In the center of the ruined warehouse stood Salvain, his arms outstretched as more rubble started to float in the air. He seemed to be taking the whole building, forming a hurricane of dust, bricks, metal and wood, as well as anything left inside. And when that was all gone, he started to tear pieces of earth and rock too. “You should have walked away, little witch.” He shouted over the sound of wind, releasing his hold on the flying objects and hurling them in the air. Some were aimed at Wanda, but some flew astray, passing close to the helicopters that now hovered over the scene as well and it took everything in her to try and stop them all, a magical barrier forming in front of her and the nearby helicopters, but she still saw pieces of rubble falling to the ground, scaring curious onlookers, who had gathered to watch the fight, despite S.H.I.E.L.D’s efforts to keep people away.

In the chaos of it, she felt torn. There were so many innocents around. So many people who would get hurt, should she allow him to get the upper hand. The carnage seemed to amuse him, his lips outstretched into a sickly grin. She couldn’t protect everyone. Not like this. She could hear shouting, the cries of women and children as they ran from the falling debris, helicopters whirring around her… It was all too much.                                              *             *             * With a flick of Wanda’s wrist, a wave of magic surged through the air and although your TV could hardly do it any justice, you could see that it was a powerful blast. A deafening silence came first, the panicked sounds of people fading into utter stillness. Then came a red glow, seemingly bursting from Wanda’s chest and expanding, dipping the whole world into a scarlet hew. You watched with bated breath, your eyes glued to the screen of your TV, your heart hammering in your chest. This was the first time you’d seen Wanda since she left, and the apparent danger she was in did very little to help your anxiety. You could recognize the old warehouse, not too far from where you lived and the thought that she was so close, yet so far, made it feel hard to breathe. Then came a third wave of magic. This one however was a dull grey. It shot through the air in a cluster, like the pellets of a shotgun and everything you saw, was the way they found their target, right in Wanda’s chest, before everything went dark.

[ikebo-simp]

Funniest SAGAU reverse isekai settings for them to pop into existence in:

1. Renaissance fair

2. Norway (Khaenri’ah is based off Norway so I think everyone would freak out)

3. Anime/Video game convention

4. New York City babey (or any major city) (like Enchanted but worse)

6. Haunted house

Nobody is having a good time, but it would be so funny.

I am so very sorry that it took me this long to write this, life kept throwing things at me and so I died before writing this

I haven't been to most of these places, but you are so correct, I'm mostly having them react to the places, and it's not necessarily focused on them searching for you

If it wasn't quite how you wanted, please ask again? I'll try my best

Renfaire:

Fischl, would fit perfectly in a Renfaire, overwelmed at first but slow grows to like more and more, before proudly proclaiming "I am the Prinzessin der Verurteilung" and all the people clap and bow down and respect her like a princess

What about Ayaka, joining in, changing into some of the clothes available and joining into the festivities, someplace where her responsibility don't weigh on her, somewhere the honor of her family doesn't follow her like a shadow

Both girls probably would this a blessing from 'Your Grace' a chance to relax and unwind in a place that welcomes them so warmly

Norway:

Dainsleif holds a bated breath as he looks around the place, familiar yet, unfamiliar. He torn on whether this is a gift from you or a curse, just what has he done to deserve this?

Zhongli feels his memories of the war coming back to him, flooding his thoughts, so many people... dead, why did you show him this place? Did you want to him something? Are you displeased with him?

Norway fills those who know about Khaenri'ah with a hidden dread, they misunderstand and think somethings changing, the world's getting overturned

Anime/Video Game Con

Nahida walks around the con glancing around, she understands that she's in a different world almost instantly, she's curious about the customs and world she just appeared in, does everyone try and imitate others? She does rather feel unnerved around the Dottore cosplayers

Collei immediately gets intimidated by all the loud sounds and the bumping bodies, although luckily several kind cosplayers took care of her and gently lead her away from the crowd, she honestly just very confusing and overstimulated

The con is a curious place for those who visit it and almost everyone who has trauma from Dottore wonder why there's so many Dottore clones all in one place

New York City:

Venti feels stifled, the air didn't have the same clean crispness of Teyvat, and although the sights are sounds of city are music to his ears, the air pushes on his chest like a heavy weight, making it hard for him to full enjoy his trip into the real world

Xinyan absolutely loves the city, the aesthetic, the feeling of expression, all kinds of music and styles, she wasn't getting weird stares or her style choice, she love her time in the city, her only problem? The how dirty the streets were

In New York City, it goes about as well as you'd expect, it's exciting to all the new sights, however... if it's extremely easy for one to get overstimulated

Haunted House:

Chongyun probably knocked out the first person that tried to scare him before realizing that it was just a normal person and not a evil spirit, he still gets his hopes up that he'll encounter a true ghost through

Hu Tao absolutely loves scaring the cast and guests, she'll find all the hiding spots and lay in wait for her next victim, honestly has a huge blast even though she's been transported into a different world

A/N Ahhhhh I posted it too early!!!!!!

Thanks for Reading

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Hello))) this is partially inspired by the anon’s request, who was watching soap operas with her grandma - I’m the same 😂

So maybe reader comes from family with money, not like millionaires, but her dad is one of Californias top divorce lawyers so he definitely makes good cash. Of course her parents are not fans of James, up to the point where they cut her off because she refused to break up with him. But she takes it well, works as waitress at diner as she’s happy being with James. However, after Metallica’s first tour in 83, he confessed that he cheated with girls on the road - exactly what her father warned her about. So she kinda doesn’t have any option but to go back to her family. However, her father does forgive her and takes her back.

A few years later in 90s, when Lars is divorcing Debbie (his first wife), guess who’s Debbie’s attorney? She wins the case so at some point she comes to the studio so Lars can sign the papers for Debbie to get her part of money; and James is pissed and calls her cynical and cold hearted but she tells him it’s his fault and how she gave everything away to be with him and he went out to sleep with groupies? He feels guilty cause she’s right - he couldn’t keep it in his pants and a few days later calls the law firm she’s working at as he wants to reconcile and cheating was the worst thing he had done???

I thought I’d be brief but ended up with too much details I’m sorry if it’s weird 🥹🥹🥹

I don't know if it's what you were looking for, but I hope you like it 💕

Rewrite the past

I never thought I’d find myself back here, in my father’s office, staring at the walls lined with framed degrees, each one a testament to his relentless ambition. From the outside, my family looked perfect—money, influence, respect. My father was one of California’s top divorce lawyers, the kind of man who made sure everyone knew how hard he’d worked to give us the life we had. I never wanted for anything, but the privilege came at a cost.

When I met James, he was the one thing in my life that felt real, unpolished. He was wild, raw, unapologetically himself, and in a world of well-manicured facades, he was a breath of fresh air. I knew my parents wouldn’t understand, but I didn’t care. They wanted me with someone safe, someone respectable. But I wanted him.

It wasn’t long before the clashes started. My parents despised him—the loud music, the chaos, the risk. They tried everything to pull me away, and when I refused, when I told them that James was who I wanted, they finally drew a hard line.

“If you stay with him, you’re on your own,” my father had said, his tone cold, final. “You’re turning your back on everything we’ve given you.”

The words stung, but I chose James anyway. I took a job at a diner, working double shifts to pay rent on a cramped apartment, doing whatever it took to make things work. It wasn’t glamorous, but I was happy—at least, I thought I was.

Then Metallica went on their first tour. I didn’t hear much from James while he was on the road, and I tried to brush off the nagging worries in my mind. But when he finally came back, he looked different. There was a distance between us, something broken in his gaze. I’d barely gotten a chance to hold him before he pulled away and admitted the truth.

“I cheated,” he said, the words falling out like stones. “There were… girls on the road. I don’t even remember half of them.”

My heart felt like it was being ripped out of my chest. All the warnings my father had given me, every condescending “I told you so” I’d ignored—it was all crashing down around me. I’d fought so hard to keep this, to prove to myself, to everyone, that we were real, that we could make it work.

And yet, here he was, proving all of them right.

I didn’t have anything left to hold on to, no safety net. The betrayal was too much, and, broken-hearted, I had no choice but to turn back to the only people who’d ever protected me. My father welcomed me back without hesitation, perhaps knowing he’d won in the end. But even as they opened their doors to me, it didn’t feel like victory. It felt like defeat.

---

The relief I expected didn’t come when I returned to my family. There was only a dull ache, the feeling of failure simmering beneath the surface. The world I’d tried so hard to escape had pulled me back in, and all the independence I’d fought for felt like it had slipped through my fingers.

My father didn’t say “I told you so”—at least not outright. But there was that look in his eyes every time he glanced my way, like he was almost smug about me finally realizing he’d been right all along. My mother, too, seemed relieved, constantly reminding me that I was better off without “someone like him.” They were careful not to bring it up too much, as if to spare me, but every comment felt like a small needle, poking at my decision to love James.

In their eyes, I’d come to my senses. In mine, I’d lost something I couldn’t get back.

As the years passed, I moved forward. I’d put everything into my career in law, following my father’s footsteps, using my pain as fuel to rise through the ranks of his firm. It was hard, grueling, but the satisfaction I got from the victories, the courtroom battles, made it worth it. Winning cases felt like a balm to all the broken pieces I couldn’t quite stitch together. And every time I signed a high-stakes case or handled a tricky negotiation, I could feel my father’s pride. It was almost enough.

But there was still a part of me that wondered what might have been—if he’d been someone who could keep his promises. If we’d managed to build the life I’d imagined with him. Every now and then, I’d hear Metallica on the radio or see an old photo of us tucked away in the back of a drawer, and I’d feel the sting of what we’d lost.

Then came the day when the past decided to walk right back into my life.

It was late, the office winding down for the evening, when my assistant walked in with a stack of documents and a carefully neutral expression.

“Debbie Lars Ulrich's case,” she said, placing the papers on my desk. “The divorce settlement. Lars needs to sign his part.”

I froze for a moment, processing what this meant. Debbie was one of my clients, yes, but the reality of who her soon-to-be ex-husband was—and what that meant—washed over me slowly, sinking in. If Lars was here to sign, James would be nearby. Of course, he would. They were practically family.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and agreed to bring the papers to the studio the following day.

---

When I arrived at the studio, I knew I had to keep myself together. This wasn’t about me; this was business. I walked in, the familiar smell of stale beer and smoke hanging heavy in the air. The studio felt like a time capsule, reminding me of those early days, back when I’d believed in forever.

And then I saw him.

James stood there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze cutting through me the moment I entered. The years had changed him—sharpened the lines on his face, deepened the shadows under his eyes. But there was a hardness in his expression, a guardedness I hadn’t seen before.

He didn’t bother with pleasantries. “So, you’re the one representing Debbie now?”

“Yes,” I replied, my voice steady, professional. “I’m here because Lars needs to sign these.”

He scoffed, a humorless smile tugging at his lips. “That’s all this is, huh? Just a job to you?”

I could feel the anger simmering beneath the surface, but I forced myself to stay calm. “Yes, James. This is my job. I’m here for Debbie. What did you expect?”

He shook his head, his gaze narrowing. “I expected you to have some heart left. But I guess you’ve gotten really good at this—cold, calculating.”

My fingers tightened around the documents in my hand, the years of hurt and resentment rushing back. He didn’t get to act like this, not after everything.

“Cold?” I repeated, letting out a bitter laugh. “That’s rich coming from you. I gave up everything for you, James—my family, my life. I was willing to fight for us. And what did you do? You threw it away for a few cheap thrills on the road.”

His face paled, and I could see the flicker of guilt, raw and undeniable, as he struggled to hold my gaze.

“I was young,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “I was stupid. I didn’t know what I was risking until it was too late.”

I shook my head, the familiar ache resurfacing as I stared at him. “Do you even realize what you cost me? I had to rebuild my entire life from scratch, and I did it without you. I’m not here to rehash the past or play whatever game you think this is. I’m here because this is what I do. This is who I am now.”

For a moment, he just stared at me, as if seeing me for the first time. His shoulders slumped, the bravado fading as he looked down at the floor, defeated. “I didn’t deserve you. I don’t think I ever did.”

“Maybe you didn’t,” I replied, softer now, feeling the weight of every hurt, every broken promise. “But I loved you, James. And I would’ve done anything to make it work. You’re the one who threw it away.”

He nodded, looking at me with that same, aching regret, and for a moment, the years seemed to fall away. We were just two people, tangled up in the remains of a love we couldn’t save.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the words barely a whisper. “I know it doesn’t change anything, but… I’m sorry.”

I took a deep breath, willing myself to let go of the last fragments of pain, to move on from what we’d lost.

“Goodbye, James,” I said, my voice steady, final.

There are things in life you can’t take back, no matter how desperately you wish you could. Years had passed since we met, but yesterday as I met him again and today I heard his voice cracking over the phone as he spoke the words he’d likely rehearsed a hundred times.

I had been wrapping up the final details on a case, buried in papers and the quiet hum of my small studio in downtown LA. It was my sanctuary—a space I’d built for myself in the years since our breakup. The walls were lined with case files, books, and certificates that whispered of the life I’d carved out alone. The last person I expected to invade this space was James Hetfield.

The phone rang, its sudden chime breaking through the silence. I glanced down, and I answered.

“Hello?” I said, my voice uncertain, testing the waters. I could feel the flutter of my heart in my chest, a mix of excitement and dread.

“Y/N,” he breathed, and the sound of my name on his lips was both familiar and foreign. It sent a rush of emotions through me—nostalgia for the love we once shared, mixed with the sharp pain of betrayal. Memories of our time together flooded my mind, each one a reminder of the happiness we had, intertwined with the heartbreak of his infidelity. I had spent years trying to forget him, yet here he was, a ghost from my past, stirring feelings I thought I had buried deep.

“What do you want, James?” I kept my tone guarded, bracing for whatever might come next, but inside, I was a whirlwind of emotions—anger, longing, and an unshakeable sadness.

“I know it’s late,” he started, his voice softer than I remembered. “But… Can we talk?”

For a moment, I hesitated. Memories crashed over me like a wave—the days spent dreaming of a future together, the betrayal that shattered it all after his first tour. I’d given up everything for him, only for him to throw it all away.

“What is it you want to talk about?” I asked, my curiosity battling with the pain that lingered. “It’s been years.”

He paused, and when he spoke again, I could hear the weight of regret. “I just… I’m sorry. For everything.”

His words hung in the air, thick with remorse, and old wounds reopened like fresh scars. “James, you did exactly what my father warned me you would. I left my family, gave up everything just to be with you. And you threw it away for girls you don’t even remember.”

“I know,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “It haunts me every day. Cheating was the worst thing I’ve ever done, and I don’t expect you to forgive me… but I needed you to know how sorry I am.”

I ran a hand over the edge of my desk, grounding myself. This was my life now—a life I’d built without him, in this studio that felt as much a part of me as my own skin. I had carved out success and peace, and this chapter of my past had no place in it.

“I’ve moved on, James,” I said finally, my voice low and steady. “This is my life now, and I don’t need the past interrupting it.”

Silence filled the line, but I could almost feel the regret radiating from him, his guilt settling over him like a heavy shadow. He had made his choices, and I had made mine.

But then I thought about the years that had passed, the void where he used to be. I couldn’t deny the flicker of hope igniting inside me. “Maybe... maybe we could talk,” I heard myself say, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

“Really?” His voice was tentative, almost disbelieving.

“Yeah, but only if you’re serious about changing. I won’t go through that again,” I warned, my heart racing with uncertainty.

“I am. I swear,” he replied, urgency creeping into his tone. “I know I messed up. I just want a chance to prove it to you.”

As we spoke, I felt the walls I’d built around my heart begin to crack, revealing the soft, vulnerable parts I had long kept hidden. The thought of giving him a second chance filled me with both excitement and dread. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps we could find our way back to each other, even if it was a long and winding road.

“Okay, let’s see where this goes,” I said, my voice steadying.

“Thank you,” he breathed, relief flooding his words. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“Just remember, James,” I warned, feeling the weight of my decision. “You’ll need to earn it.”

“I will,” he promised, his voice resolute. “I won’t let you down this time.”

As I hung up, the silence of the studio wrapped around me, familiar and comforting, but now tinged with a cautious hope. I had found my peace, but maybe—just maybe—I could open the door to something new. The ache in my heart remained, but now it held the promise of healing and the possibility of love rediscovered.

[centrally-unplanned]

I played a few more of Nemlei's (Developer of The Coffin of Andy & Leyley) games to sort of get a feel for their design philosophy a bit (typical Ash behavior, everything's a production history). I played No-Good Noelle & Candy Scabs, and poked around Better Half.

Andy & Leyley is their most ambitious project by a country mile, and a good deal more advanced conceptually. It is also their first RPG Maker game, the rest being pure Ren'py VN projects. This was a very smart choice on their part - they love gore & horror style elements, but in a simple VN those elements are going to be carried, in the main, by dialogue, with the occasional splash art. Its hard for that not to overstay its welcome, or come off as a bit too edgy? You can make it work with real design flexes (Doki Doki Literature Club being a classic example) but that is very high skill (DDLC is famously impressive on the coding side). Meanwhile Andy & Leyley gets miles out of the fact that you-as-player physically do all of the actions, and engage with 'bonus' dialogue from the environment as much as you want. You are extending that welcome via choices you make.

Andy & Leyley also seems like their first project to take place in "our world", even if it's a crapsack alt skin version of it. It is another smart choice, as - typical to the relationship-focused VN genre - Nemlei cares about characters first, and that is where all the time goes in these games. Which means the fantasy settings of say No-Good Noelle are inherently shallow; they don't want to spend time developing it all that much. In A&L all that is presumed *except* the relevant differences, which are way easier to drip-feed. The longer length & RPG elements help with that too ofc. And I think it works a little bit better with the toxic dynamics they are so enamored with; a toxic snow fairy/imp dynamic is like, yeah, they are magic creatures, guess they can do that. Fun, but that isn't going to hit the way a Covid-Quarantine metaphor driving you over the edge is going to.

Of course the art has also evolved and all that too; they started making full games in 2019 it seems, had choppy "generic western cute-horror-anime" aesthetics for a few there, couldn't get "adult" character designs to work for Better Hal & Divelethion, but finally broke the barrier on Andy & Leyley, and committed to a more cohesive style with its own identity to boot.

Btw they have very impressive output for a solo artist who is virtually never charging for these products and doing like no social media promotion. They love the grind for stories, I see who they are in every work and respect them immensely for that.

[cherrygirlystuff]

Welcome to Messy Mornings: A Chronicle of the Chaotic, Carefree Lifestyle of the Indie Sleaze Scene

Hey babe! 🌸 If you’ve ever woken up with yesterday’s eyeliner still smudged under your eyes, your hair in a perfectly imperfect mess, and the vibe of last night’s music still echoing in your head, then you’re in the right place. Welcome to Messy Mornings, where we celebrate the beautifully chaotic and effortlessly cool lifestyle that defined the indie sleaze scene. This isn’t about being polished or perfect – it’s about embracing the wild, carefree energy that made the indie sleaze era so unforgettable. So, grab your coffee (or let’s be real, your morning-after drink of choice), and let’s dive into the messy, magical world of indie mornings! 🎧✨

The Chaotic Charm of Indie Sleaze Mornings 🌟

Let’s be honest – mornings during the indie sleaze era weren’t about green juices and yoga mats. They were more like stumbling out of bed, throwing on whatever clothes were on the floor, and somehow managing to look effortlessly cool despite the chaos. The indie sleaze lifestyle was all about embracing that “I just rolled out of bed” look – because, honestly, you probably did. And guess what? That’s what made it so iconic.

1. The Art of the Perfectly Imperfect Morning 🕶️

Indie sleaze mornings were anything but ordinary. Maybe you were crashing on a friend’s couch after a night out, or maybe you woke up with the sun streaming through your bedroom window, surrounded by vinyl records and band posters. The key to capturing that indie vibe? Don’t overthink it. Messy hair, smudged eyeliner, and yesterday’s outfit are all part of the charm. It’s about capturing the moment – the vibe – rather than worrying about looking picture-perfect.

2. The Morning After: A Photo Series 📸

If you’re looking for some visual inspo, Messy Mornings has got you covered with a curated photo series that captures the essence of those chaotic indie mornings. Think candid shots of tangled bed sheets, half-empty coffee cups, and sun-drenched rooms filled with the remnants of the night before. These images aren’t staged or filtered – they’re raw, real, and totally unfiltered, just like the indie sleaze scene itself. Whether it’s a Polaroid snapped at sunrise or a grainy digital photo that captures the morning light just right, these photos are all about telling the story of the morning after.

Morning Routines: The Indie Sleaze Way 🌅

Forget about strict schedules and to-do lists – the indie sleaze morning routine was all about going with the flow and embracing whatever the day threw your way. Here’s a little glimpse into what a typical indie sleaze morning might have looked like:

1. Wake Up Whenever 🌞

There’s no alarm clock here – you wake up when your body (or the sunlight streaming through the curtains) tells you to. Whether it’s 7 AM or noon, it doesn’t really matter. The vibe is all about taking your time and easing into the day.

2. Coffee, Please (But Make It Strong) ☕

The first order of business? Coffee. Strong, black, and preferably served in a chipped mug that’s seen better days. This isn’t about fancy lattes or frappuccinos – it’s about the kind of coffee that gets you going after a long night out. Bonus points if you’re drinking it while listening to last night’s playlist on repeat.

3. Throw on Yesterday’s Clothes (Or Something Close) 👗

Forget about planning your outfit – just grab whatever’s on the floor or hanging on the back of a chair. Mismatched? Perfect. Wrinkled? Even better. The indie sleaze aesthetic is all about looking like you didn’t try too hard, even if you secretly did. Add some chunky boots or sneakers, and you’re good to go.

4. Playlist on Repeat 🎧

Music is the soundtrack to your life, so naturally, it’s playing in the background as you get ready. Whether it’s The Strokes, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, or a grungy mixtape you made last night, the right tunes set the tone for your day. Bonus points if you’re still humming a song from the concert or party you went to the night before.

Aesthetic Inspo: Capturing the Messy Morning Vibe 🖼️

If you’re looking to channel that indie sleaze morning vibe into your own life, here’s some aesthetic inspo to get you started:

1. Polaroids and Disposable Cameras 📷

Capture those unfiltered morning moments with a Polaroid camera or a disposable one. The beauty of these photos is in their imperfections – the overexposure, the grain, the unexpected moments that only a film camera can capture. Stick them on your wall or tuck them into a journal for the ultimate indie sleaze photo album.

2. Vintage Decor Vibes 🕯️

Your space should feel as effortlessly cool as you do. Think mismatched furniture, vintage band posters, string lights, and a record player spinning in the corner. Add a few plants that may or may not need watering, and you’ve got the perfect indie sleaze morning setting.

3. The Playlist You Need 🎶

No indie sleaze morning is complete without the right playlist. Curate a mix of your favorite indie tracks, throw in some lo-fi beats, and don’t forget those nostalgic hits that take you back to the mid-2000s. It’s all about setting the mood and getting lost in the music as you go about your day.

Final Thoughts, Gorgeous: Embrace the Chaos, Live the Vibe 🌟

So, there you have it – a peek into the chaotic, carefree world of Messy Mornings, where the indie sleaze aesthetic is alive and well. Whether you’re reminiscing about your wild nights and lazy mornings or just looking to channel that vibe into your everyday life, remember: it’s all about embracing the mess, living in the moment, and not worrying too much about the details.

In the world of indie sleaze, perfection is overrated. It’s the imperfections, the spontaneity, and the unexpected moments that make life so much more interesting. So next time you wake up with your hair a mess and your eyeliner smudged, don’t stress – just grab your coffee, throw on some tunes, and let the day unfold however it wants to.

Ready to embrace the messy morning vibes? Let’s chat in the comments about your favorite indie sleaze moments, morning routines, and everything else that makes this chaotic, carefree lifestyle so irresistible! 💕

[civilotterneer]

The Search for Civ

We walked for another few hours, and before I knew it, a break in the long brick bridge finally came.

"I welcome you to one of the Hell's Arcane Focal Points," Livic said with much less energy than usual.

The focus he pointed to was a large, brick, cylindrical structure in the middle of the bridge, breaking up the infinite length. It glowed with lights and almost seemed too well-built to be a hellish structure, given what I've seen of the Hells so far.

"So, we're gonna have to use the focal point to cast the teleportation spell," Livic explained, "We're 'relatively' close to this 'Adastra' planet in hell-dimensions, so we just have to use a powerful teleport spell to get to where Civ is."

"Alright, sounds relatively simple. Will you be able to get us out afterwards?" I asked.

"For sure. Traveling to Hell is easy, getting back out is what's hard. We'll have to travel back from where we came and go to another nearby Focal Point to basically do exactly what we do here, but back to your home world," continued Livic.

"Could we use my emergency escape charm?" I asked, holding the small charm in my pocket.

"We could, but I can't make any promises that it'll work at that distance," said Livic, "It's probably more likely to work once we're outside of Hell, but I sure wouldn't want to try it unless we had no choice."

Once again, Livic's magical knowledge, something I've begun to take as real instead of made-up bluff at this point, was greatly surprising, and strangely reassuring.

"Do I need to help at all?" I asked.

Before he responded, a flurry of screeching came from the bridge behind us. Turning, a swarm of imps had appeared, as well as other undiscernible figures, and were quickly closing in on us. It was way more than I had seen before, and I doubt Livic's 'friend' will be any help this time.

"For starters, keep us covered," Livic said flatly, "I can do the spell, but I'll need to focus and not be eaten alive by angry imps or bone devils."

"Understood."

<<Last Page - Page 20 - Next Page>>

[inhuman-obey-me]

If the devs do this right for once, and we actually make it to the end of NB story-wise, do you think we'll actually get to go back to our real timeline and meet the og brothers again? As much as I love the time travel premise of NB and these past!brothers, I really do miss our dorks from the present and hope MC isn't stuck there permanently. I need emotional closure after getting ripped away from them so suddenly, damn it. At the very least, a hard mode story update on the others would be nice.

Hahaha...if the devs do it right, for once.

(Loooooong rant & ramble under the cut)

That said, we should be returning, yes. If nothing else, the devs did promise in their pre-release AMA that "the story from lesson 80 will eventually continue in Nightbringer" so we're pretty sure that means we will return to the present...eventually being the operative word. Whether that means the current situation will get wrapped up neatly at the end of NB Season 1 haha OM wrapping up a season neatly? and then plop us back to normal time for Season 2 to continue as a figurative "lesson 81", or if it's going to take a full 4 more seasons to get there, who knows! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But eventually they have promised that the story will pick back up, so that should mean that we are not stuck in the past permanently.

Now, there's a few caveats to this -- the biggest of which may be that it's wildly unclear if they're going to follow through on an "alternate universes" approach to the current time travel, where the situation as it left off is untouched, as Nightbringer seemed to imply when he called this time a "world", or if they will do the "time paradox" singular timeline approach as Solomon warned us about. We personally are going to interpret it as the former until proven otherwise, but it's hard to declare it for sure, as both have been mentioned.

That also means two different things for how things could go.

If it's a single timeline, then it seems clear we have already wildly changed the past with our presence, and we may return to find that things in our own time will be a different as a result. We did mention before that Nightbringer seems like a soft reset to the story because they wrote themselves into a bit of a corner with Season 4, and they could use this to retcon some of the more immediate directions they took and change course. Or, they could perhaps use it to introduce new problems which would set them up for things to solve in future seasons? And if things are changed, then we may end up with an unsatisfying version of returning where it still feels a bit off from the continuation we've all been waiting for.

That brings us to the other option -- alternate universes. This can just be an entirely different universe and timeline, which will have no impact on our own time, and we could return to things as they were and pick up from there. Now, the devs did emphasize that NB is meant to be welcoming and playable for new players as well as players of the original, which...probably means at least that they would have to explain a lot of things all over again? Though they haven't explained a lot of shit to new players, like the whole MC having the Ring of Light thing, so it's not like they're especially doing a great job of that! BUT, personally we really prefer this explanation.

First off, having them be entirely separate would really help to explain things like, again, Luke's many-millenia-early visit to the Devildom. And more than that, it seems like it could fit really well into where the story conflict is setting up to go: MC being presented a choice of siding with humans vs demons.

Solomon, in Lesson 9-A, is presented with what is later revealed to be a test by Nightbringer, and there's some key wording in that test about what demons offer.

And what has Nightbringer been saying? That they can bring MC to where they will be happy. "A place that will bring you more joy than any other."

We know that he had wanted Solomon to choose his side, and that Solomon opted to reject both angels and demons to choose humans instead. His big question to Solomon, then, is what MC's feelings are -- although Solomon says that MC agrees, Nightbringer questions if he really knows how MC feels.

That brings up the interesting possibility that, if this world represents a demon (Nightbringer) leading a human (MC) to "happiness", then MC's original timeline could be the option that represents "choosing humanity" instead. If so, this could be a big test from Nightbringer to see how MC feels, just like he tested Solomon, and it could all culminate in a big decision where MC might be torn between choosing this world or the original one -- though, technically speaking, it realistically probably can't actually branch the story drastically, just coding-wise. But even so, it's possible that, like Season 2 with the dagger, they could still give us the option, and hey, that'd be some pretty interesting storytelling if that's the case!

However, that's all just guessing and speculation. More than anything, we simply do not know Nightbringer's intentions as of yet.

It seems as though he may genuinely mean it when he says this is "what will bring us happiness," but he also mentioned that having us make the pacts here in past is what he wants as well. What does that mean for what his own goals are? Why does he want that? And considering that the whole reason we even want to make the pacts in this timeline is so that we'll have the ability to return to our time, it's pretty suspicious to use that to say we "want the same thing" as him. So we do not trust Nightbringer right now, but we don't have enough information as of yet and we'll just have to see what direction this is going to go.

As for a hard mode story update on our boys of the original time, though...unfortunately, we wouldn't hold our breath. There's a lot of really big stuff going on thematically in this past time we're currently in, and they likely won't want to distract from that with a jump to the present unless they're trying to make a point. If it does go towards a "MC has to choose between worlds" thing, there might be a slim possibility of it, just to give us a peek at the other option. However, again, the devs have stated that they wanted to make NB accessible to new players as well as fans of the original game, so we think it's pretty unlikely for us to get a story glimpse of them just for us to get to see how the characters as we knew and loved them actually are.

Also, the whole "MC misses their home and needs to make these pacts because they can't see their versions of the characters until they get back" probably hits a little harder if we really actually can't know how they're doing without us but that rests on the basis of narrative design, which Solmare clearly doesn't believe in, with the whole Ruri Tunes theming and all the backgrounds so far. And then there's the whole possibility that the entire concept of time travel means we may get returned just minutes after our disappearance or something, and that time isn't actually passing for them.......time travel is too frickin' complicated, y'all.

Anyway, all this to say, as much as we are totally loving all the new lore and theming and stuff we're getting in Nightbringer, we miss our OG boys too. Hopefully we'll get back to our original time someday.

[hopeymchope]

Emio - The Smiling Man is a welcome return for FDC... but a disappointing one

As I mentioned once before, Famicom Detective Club is BACK. Not just the title, but also its central heroes: Assistant detectives Taro Ninten and Ayumi Tachibana have returned for a new first-person menu-driven adventure game with a new mystery.

This is a much bigger deal for Japanese fans, where this is the first new game in the series (and the first real new adventure for these characters) since 1997 — and that '97 game is pretty obscure/hard to come by (I'll get to that), so it's really the first full-fledged NEW release since 1989! But the rest of the world only had a fan translation of the second game's SNES remake since 2004, which meant it was really only experienced by hardcore adventure game enthusiasts. And we only got our first official release of the first two games in the form of the Switch remakes in 2021.

I liked those Switch remakes a lot. I especially liked how many detailed, fluid animations there were in nearly every setting, which really brought the adventures to life. For any newcomers, I still recommend both of those titles — and in fact, I think The Girl Who Stands Behind remains the best in the series even now. The Missing Heir is full of dated design roadblocks that will almost certainly send you rushing to find an online guide, but The GIrl Who Stands Behind is a pretty easy playthrough for anyone.

Time has left the third game in the series behind, rendering it to obscurity. It truly is The Past that Disappeared in the Snow.

Though I should clarify that I only mean that The Girl Who Stands Behind is, IMO, the best out of the three games we English-only fans can experience. Because Emio - The Smiling Man is actually the fourth game in the series... and the third one is extremely obscure. That game was only released via Nintendo's Satellaview service in Japan, which let you use download games over dial-up Internet back in the '90s. That third game, titled The Past that Disappeared in the Snow, was the only one (until now!) where you played as Ayumi Tachibana. When her mom was accused of a murder, Ayumi had to uncover a decades-long family feud between her own family and another... and we don't know much more than that, because although the ROM file certainly is out there, nobody has ever bothered to translate this game into English.

But... I digress. It's time I stopped meandering around the central topic and started talking about the newest release: Emio.

In terms of gameplay, this one skews much closer to The Girl Who Stands Behind than The Missing Heir. There's one late-game moment where you're likely to be stymied about what to do or where to go next, because advancement requires some outside-the-box thinking. But otherwise, most players will be able to step through the narrative without too much trouble.

One cool touch that I alluded two a couple paragraphs earlier is that you will actually swap between Taro and Ayumi's perspectives in this one. I quite like that angle, though Taro pretty consistently gets the more interesting parts of the story. Perhaps that's because he still dominates 70% of the perspective.

The game will grade your performance in each chapter at the very end of the story, so do your best on the reviews and other multiple-choice segments.

If you're just looking to have a new adventure with some compelling late reveals? Emio - The Smiling Man has you covered. The same general gameplay from The Girl Who Stands Behind is back, including the end-of-chapter reviews of information that will ultimately help determine your graded performance.

Unfortunately I also feel that, in some ways, this is the weakest of the stories we've been able to play in English. And I feel that way primarily for three reasons:

Prepare to spend a lot of time at Planet Coffee, receiving very little information.

The sad truth is that, for much of this game, it feels like you're treading water. You barely ever seem to make advancements in the story until the last few chapters—instead, it's just piecemeal drip-feeding of tiny details that don't actually seem to move the needle. The Missing Heir was dropping new murders and mysteries left and right. In comparison, The Girl Who Stands Behind was more similar to how Emio is structured... but TGWSB had a creepy overlaying atmosphere and sense of dread that helped propel it along. For me at least, Emio is comparatively... well, it's kind of boring. Not much happens for most of the game. The last two main chapters and the Epilogue are all powerfully compelling, but up until that point, it feels more like you experience almost 10 chapters where you learn random facts that don't actually link to one another, and almost no one ever seems to be in any danger?

Worse is that sometimes, some things DO happen that the narrative just kind of... forgets about. One of the most compelling twists in the investigation is never explained in any way! At one point, we follow Ayumi as she follows a mysterious figure and then gets jumped by them... and then this is never discussed or addressed again! It's hard to believe a game with this many staff members involved could see this and shrug these dropped plot points off. Maybe they were all too scared to speak up to producer/writer Yoshio Sakamoto? But it's frustrating.

Ayumi gets jumped early in Chapter 7. When we next see her, she never mentions that this happened, nor is this ever explained or referenced again for the entire game.

You know how I mentioned after playing the previous two games that I was shipping Ayumi and Taro? Well, this game kind of killed that for me. For some reason, this is the only game in the series where Ayumi is treated as this gorgeous, irresistable being that every boy she encounters (while playing as her) simps for. And our playable hero, Taro, is just such a simp, too! Maybe it just felt overwhelming to me because it's every boy (and a couple girls) that she runs into, while in reality she doesn't talk to that many characters. But for me, it felt exhausting and kind of gross to see a couple of the male characters bicker over who knows her better, get possessively jealous when they have no right to, and basically act like total toolbags whenever Ayumi is involved. Taro, for his part, has gone from "implied to maybe kinda like her" to "acting weirdly possessive and overtly pining for her whenever they interact." Which I don't care for. For Ayumi's sake, I'm glad she seems to be somehow blissfully ignorant of her hypnotic effect. :P At least their boss, Utsugi, seems like he's not gunning for her... ?

So yeah, these are the three things that I think held the game back from being as good a story as the first two for me personally. Yet that's not to say the game is bad, either — I'm still quite happy to be unraveling mysteries with the Utsugi Detective Agency. There are still lots of fluid character touches in the animated scenes, the art is consistently great, the soundtrack is good, and things REALLY get gripping by the end.

If you're wondering why this game has an "M" rating while the previous two had "T" ratings, that's entirely due to the game's epilogue. After you beat the main story, many plot threads remain dangling. And as I stated up above, some will sadly stay that way. But most of them are filled in by the epilogue, which walks you through the incredibly dark, tragic, and disturbing tale of the culprit. The epilogue is more like a 20-minute visual novel followed by a 30-minute anime, because you don't actually PLAY it much; you really just read and then watch it. You are warned beforehand that this tale will be "gruesome," and though it's still far less so than most horror-based video games, it's definitely QUITE gruesome by Nintendo standards. But it's one of the most gripping parts of the whole story, honestly.

[resuri-art]

Hi! I'm new to the yugioh fandom and have been asking around, do you have any fic recs you could share with us? I always love hearing what other people recommend ❤️

Hello anon, and welcome to the ygo fandom! 💖 I hope you're having a great time here. (We are a little weird but we are nice I promise.)

I have a lot of recs, it depends of what you're searching for, but I'll make a little selection:

Canon verse fics:

The last puzzle by @tenderwulf

11 years after the Ceremonial Duel, Atem and Bakura inexplicably find themselves back in Domino. When they meet their previous hosts, they realize how much things have changed: Yuugi, the now world-renowned King of Games, is going through a marriage crisis, Ryou is struggling to balance studies, work, and his brittle mental health, and Malik... well, Malik is living his best life—and his own yami is nowhere to be seen. They soon realize they all have to work together in order to solve the mystery of the yamis' return: some to make sure that they stay, and some to make sure that they don't.

- Philosophy of a knife by @crush3dmary

Absolute power corrupts absolutely. Ryou learns this the hard way when he becomes the vessel for Zorc's power. A canon rewrite where Bakura wins.

The HoURGLASS serie by @worldendercharles

Two character studies of Marik Ishtar and his darker half, meant to parallel each other and explore the cross-contamination between them.

Chained to you by @saijspellhart

Taking place after the events of Season Zero, all the shadow games happened but Yugi never found out he was possessed by the spirit of the puzzle. Now he's an adult, living on his own, and he starts to notice strange and spooky things happening around his apartment. When he sees his own shadow moving Yugi begins to suspect his new place is haunted. But is this shadow spirit malicious or... kinda sweet? Yami does a bunch of stupidly sweet domestic shit for Yugi to help take care of him. Expect romance, fluff, self-care, and Puzzleshipping shenanigans.

Our Scars remind Us that the Past was Real by @sesshy380

Imagine waking up, and everyone is trying to convince you that the things you 'remember’ never happened, and that those 'memories’ exist only in YOUR head. The Thief King doesn’t have to imagine…because that’s exactly what happened. -or- The Thief King get’s a second chance at life.

Yami Bakura’s Got A Crush by @justapalspal

Yami Bakura’s got a crush, and it ends up being Bakura Ryou’s problem. Diva’s even more so.

AU fics:

To Balance the Scales by @sadistikitteh

Fleeing from being killed by his uncle's knights, Atem is saved by Bakura; the mate of the naga he'd helped years before. After healing from wounds and bonding with the couple, Atem's love and desire to help the creatures grows stronger.

Swan Lake by @kitsunefaux

A twist of fate leaves Bakura under the care of the fae Ryou, who thinks he would be so much cuter as a swan. What can you do against a creature who holds your choices in their hands? Who can you be in the belly of the beast?

The Kill Shot serie by @apathetic-theme-song

A modern/magic assassin AU. Two unstoppable forces collide as Bakura, one of the best assassins in the world, finds himself a target of an up-and-coming rival named Qadir in a plot to destroy them both. In teaming up to get revenge, they find that they make much better partners than enemies in more ways than one.

If you're into smut (and of age to read it of course), I would heavily recommend the whole work of Fat-Butch-Dyke (@fat-butch-dyke) and Sitabethel (@sitabethel). Fair warning with Sita: they do the best character developments. You think you will go for a fun pwp but be prepared to be a crying mess at some point.

Also Rochelle Echidna (@rochelle-echidna), Ninjam117 (@ninjam117), RelaySoul (@pandabaozi) and DisposableVillain works are to check too. <3 (I couldn't decide for a fic to recommend more than another.)

There are a lot more I'm probably forgetting but I think that will give you some reading material. Also I recommend to look at the other works of all the authors I mentionned, they are great. ♥

[i-love-love]

i wanna know what I can forsake / just to be close - Chapter 5

(Honey, we should run away, our baby and her mama and the damaged love she makes.)

Chrissy is on top of the world, until she isn’t; Eddie is there for all of it. When Jason’s cruelty sends her into Eddie’s arms for comfort, she’s left in a predicament— she’s pregnant and unsure who the father is. Life as she knows it doesn’t have room for the person Chrissy is becoming, and she’s left with two choices: give in to a life of swallowed tongues and clenched teeth, or creating a new life for herself with room for all the love she needs.

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

Words: 43,464

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Eddie/Chrissy

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

Spring break passes in a haze.

Wake up, make the bed. Check weight. Smudge concealer over the bruises lingering on her face. Drink a large glass of water, then go for a run— a long, hard run, all the way out to where the train tracks cross Oak Street and back again. Dodge calls from her friends, duck out of the house before her mother can catch her and ensnare her in some sort of obligation.

A few times she goes to Eddie’s, biking over late at night. They don’t talk much, she just slumps into his side in his bed while he plays something loud for her and they pass a joint back and forth. The numbness is welcome.

She can’t decide whether she wants numbness or not, most of the week. Half the time she’s so caught up in anger, in shame, in wanting to claw the skin right off her body that all she wants is to go completely numb to everything. The other half of the time she’s so hollow that she’s desperate to feel anything, be it loud music or the burning of every muscle in her body as she does a workout tape for the fourth time in a row.

After that slice of toast at Eddie’s, she doesn’t eat a thing for 5 days straight.

Late in the week, cuddled into Eddie’s side with Motörhead shaking the walls, he says something about it. She’s gotten stronger about not giving into her hunger while she’s high, and he’s normally pretty good about keeping his mouth shut when her stomach growls as she turns down a third offer of a slice of pizza, but she stands up to go to the bathroom an hour after they snub the roach out and her knees fall out from under her for real. If Eddie wasn’t there to catch her she’d have smacked her head into the dresser.

That might be a nice change of pace, a different flavor of feeling something than yet another loop of Jane Fonda on the VCR, she figures.

Eddie’s shakes her shoulders gently until she zones back in and makes eye contact. Hell, he looks freaked. “Easy, sweetness, you just about cracked your skull. Can I get you something?”

Dead silent, she shakes her head, ignoring the dizziness from her little brush with unconsciousness. She might be many things, but she’s not a wuss about fainting. She goes to stand up but Eddie’s deft hands keep her where she is, half-reclined on the ground with his knees under her head.

“Honey, when’s the last time you had something to eat?” he asks, tucking some hair behind her ear. His eyes are worried and she wants to lie, but she tries so hard not to do that with him so she just shrugs. A shrug is not a lie, even if she’s not telling him everything.

The tricky thing with Eddie is that he gives a shit about her. She hadn’t expected how frustrating it could be sometimes— with everyone else in her life, as long as she doesn’t complain too much about whatever clever new way she’s starving herself nobody really cares. Aside from the time she overdid it and got herself onto the counseling circuit last year, she’s never had anyone express a word of worry over her eating habits. It’s just a part of the Chrissy Thing, she doesn’t eat. And if she does, she throws up, and with enough mint chewing gum nobody is bothered except for her. But Eddie— perceptive, persistent Eddie— has developed a sixth sense for when she’s fasting and has gotten very, very good in the last few weeks at wheedling her into ‘just a bite,’ ‘just half,’ ‘c’mon, just a tiny one’.

His mouth twists into a frown, the little furrow appearing between his eyebrows. She wants to care more that she put it there. “C’mon, you’ve got to be starving, did you have lunch?”

“No,” she says, hoping he’ll leave it alone.

“Breakfast?”

“No.”

He sighs, rubbing his temple with the hand that isn’t petting through her hair. “C’mon, what’s the last thing you ate?”

“Toast,” she snaps, sitting up. Her head spins as she does and he tries to put a supportive hand on her arm but she shrugs it away. “I’m fine.”

The gears turn and she watches it click for him. “Toast, as in the toast I made you on Saturday morning? What the fuck, Chrissy? It’s Thursday!”

[mamashenanigans]

Official AFO Bad Ending Event Announcement

It’s the end of January and thus the Bad Ending Event is upon us! Read after the gif for all the information and share, share, share!!!

From now until the end of February, writers and artists are invited to take part in the All for One Bad Ending Event hosted by me(MamaShenanigans) and @possiblycringe !!!

Bad endings are fun, but can sometimes be a challenge for writers and hard to depict for artists. This event is meant to be a great exercise in creating a work where the Big Bad(All for One) wins, nobody wins, or a story that takes place AFTER the bad ending(but still is bad). That’s a lot of ‘bad’!

I LOVE bad endings, or rather, when the villain wins! It’s pretty much ALL I write…not counting my still WIP of real world Yoichi being a real world cat lady….we whisper about that in secretive circles.

Types of ‘Endings’

The Big Bad wins: All for One ends up having his cake and eating it too! Doesn’t matter how it gets there, but the self-described Demon Lord HAS to come out on top by the end of the story. In context, it’s bad for everyone else but him.

Nobody Wins: Despite whatever conflict happens, neither side wins. It’s just terrible for everyone including Mr. Comic Nerd in a Suit. So sad, too bad.

After the Bad Ending: This is a fun one! Your story can take place after All for One has eaten his cake, but the platter is still full! This can be a slice of life sort of story or even something wicked where it seems the good guys are finally going to fix that bad ending….except they don’t.

The biggest thing to take away from this is that: there is NO good ending. Even if you write an aftermath(#3), nothing good can come of it. However! You can definitely play around with all three of these. Maybe it’s an aftermath(#3) where nobody wins(#2)…but then AFO wins(#1)? Maybe you continue on past the Big Bad wins(#1) and just continue right on into #3. Or, you can write or draw for each type! Doesn’t matter! Only that it’s bad.

Requirements

Writers

Minimum story length of 1k words

Fits one or more of the above types of endings

Can include any other characters or relationships such as Yoichi(hurray!) and DFO(Dad for One), and any setting such as canon, fantasy au, real world/no quirks au. Etc and so on. All alternate universes are welcome if you want to write one!

Horror and gore are perfectly fine. NSFW is not permitted in this event.

You can submit as many entries as you want!

Artists

Has to depict a bad ending in whatever way you think that would look. All for One must be featured.

Horror and gore are fine. Just no NSFW

Can submit as many entries as you want!

Prizes

Please note that the prizes have changed since the last post was made.

To keep things fair, @possiblycringe and I will be creating prizes based on a “first come, first serve” basis. This way, neither of us will be making more prizes than the other. That would be exhausting for one of us! How that works is, for example, the two 1st prize winners are announced. One for art, the other for writing. The first winner to contact me with what they want(art or fic) gets that pick and the other winner will have to take whichever the first one doesn’t.

Choices for Prizes

Written Prizes

Contact me with a prompt

1st Place: 2k word fic

2nd Place: 1.5 word fic

3rd Place: 1k word fic

Art Prizes

Contact @possiblycringe with your prompt

1st Place: Full body color with cell shading

2nd Place: Half body color

3rd Place: Half body lineart

Timeframe & Submitting

Starting now (January 27th) until the night of Sunday February 26th(I have the next two days off after) by 11:59PM. Please note that there is leeway due to time zones!

Submissions can be made at ANY time, so you don’t need to sit on your work until the 26th! I’d prefer you didn’t!

To submit, post on tumblr, AO3, fanfiction.net, or whatever works for you! Tag me if you are able on the platform, otherwise, tag me in a discord we’re both in or DM me on Discord or here with a link to your work! My discord is MamaShenanigans#9608

AO3 Tag/Collection & Inspiration

For writers that want to keep their bad ending a secret from readers, you can tag your work with AFOBEE2023! I will create a public collection once submissions start coming in!

For inspiration, here are three of my works that hit every type of bad ending!

COLD—example of a nobody wins bad ending. Horror

Alternatives chapters 2-3 & chapter 5 epilogue featuring the bad ending of a Mafia AU

Alternatives chapters 3-4 & chapter 5 epilogue featuring the aftermath of a bad ending where fat!AFO has already become Emperor of the world.

@possiblycringe and I are so excited to see what you all come up with! Have fun and do bad!!!