#deej writes

[djchika]

(I have two for this! The other might actually become fic <_<)

Title: More than Just a Game for Two (for @ooktaec)

Tags: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw/Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Sports AU, Rivals AU, Forced Room Sharing, Oblivious Bradley, which turns into, Oblivious Jake, fun all around

Summary:

Bradley was going to kill Mav. After everything they'd been through, after he'd so graciously and magnanimously forgiven the old bastard, their coach rewarded him with this -- assigning Jake as Bradley's roommate for the rest of the season. Like Mav's own sadistic version of a get-along shirt.

Maybe it was for the better. As long as Jake was shooting his mouth off then Bradley could keep focusing on all the things he hated about the man -- the way Jake acted like he was God's gift to the team, the way he swanned around Bradley knowing exactly how to push every one of his buttons. He even hated those damn annoying toothpicks that drew his attention to the pink of Jake's lips.

Wait.

Oh.

Goddamnit, Mav.

#hangster #sereshaw #bradley bradshaw #jake seresin #rooster x hangman #film: tgm #deej writes hangster #deej's hangster aus

[jennamacaroni]

i know i said i’d be doing a long post about being a queer person and trying to have a kid and what its been like for my wife and i going through IVF.  but as you can imagine it’s a really uh complicated and personal thing.  so i ended up writing this instead, because sometimes hard things become easier to talk about through the lens of someone else.  and i just really love that JPL went with this storyline for DJ because it provides so much more depth to play around with her character and i just really love DJ <3  sort of throwing the show timeline out the window just a bit bc i dont think its plausible, just roll with it.  also my inbox/dms are always open if people want to know anything specific or just need to talk please dont hesitate to reach out.  obvi im no expert but i’ve been living it and shits hard

note:  there’s no avadeb in this just fyi

DJ has always hated doctors, ever since she was little.  The drab and sterile rooms, the crunch of the paper between the backs of her legs and the exam table, the feeling of exposure as strangers in white coats prodded her body and treated her like she was more object than person.  She never had a family doctor growing up, spending so much of her formative years on the road, so each visit was strange and unfamiliar.  Then as she got older, suddenly there were more and more of them.  There were the doctors in the emergency room in Chicago who threaded a tube thicker than her thumb down her esophagus and pumped liquid charcoal into her stomach, counteracting the overdose and saving her life at seventeen.  Or the psychologists sent down to assess her mental state after she’d gotten high off pills and driven through the rare books room at Cornell, asking if she was trying to hurt herself.  Or the paramedics who made sure she didn’t bleed to death on the way to the hospital after doing too much cocaine and wrapping her car around a telephone pole on Las Vegas Boulevard, her fractured leg bone piercing right through the skin and only just missing severing an artery.

She owed her life to these people, multiple times over, but even now she can’t shake the uneasiness of every visit, the same pit in her stomach making itself known all these years later.  Can’t stand the fake niceties when the doctors call her Deborah, only having taken a cursory glance at a name on a chart right before entering the exam room.  To whom she is just another body, another collection of parts to be medicated and manipulated to reach an end goal.  Just another statistic, whether it be bringing her back from the brink of death or helping to bring more life into the world.

The truth is, DJ wasn’t sure she ever wanted children.

Motherhood seemed to her like a disease, an infliction to be suffered through, never quite enjoyed and always full of resentment.  Everyone had issues with their mother in some form or another; piles upon piles of expectations, of projected dreams and ambitions, of raising another human in one’s own image in the hope that the next generation will be better than the last.  Her own mother was a teenager when she got pregnant, only a few months into her twenties when DJ was born, and she’s always wondered whether Deborah regretted it, even now.  The marriage, the pregnancy, and how DJ bore witness to the unraveling of it all when she was only five years old.  How Deborah’s choices compounded on one another and manifested many times over the years in DJ’s near destruction.

DJ was fucked up enough from her own mother, why inflict that generational pain on someone else?

But then she met Aidan, who cared enough to look past all the bullshit, resentment, and trauma.  Who stood at the face of the walls she’d erected and punched through each one in turn, flooding her world with light and love.  A man who beat up other men for a living yet was at his core both sweet and kind and who made her feel like she was perfect exactly the way she was.  And not because she’s Deborah Vance Junior, daughter of a living comedy legend, or a recovered junkie with a lingering alcohol problem needing saving, but because even after all the shit, her parents splitting up, the overdoses, the accidents, the failed businesses, the lawsuits, DJ was still here.  She was still fighting for her own happiness and her own place in this world.  She found in him an equal partner, someone else who gets up even after the punches land just a bit too squarely, and one who would be an incredible father one day.

And the more they talked about it, the more DJ realized a child is something she could want.  That she could love.  That she could give a better life to than the one she’d lived.  One full of stability, of two loving parents, of a home that didn’t travel to a different city every few days.  And once the seed of the idea had sprouted, it rooted somewhere unreachable inside of her, the want only growing with time.

So they started trying.

But months went by and nothing ever came but her period, each singular disappointment a sharp and stinging hurt that compounded month after month.

After a certain seemingly arbitrary number of continued failures, they were eventually referred to a fertility clinic.  There were countless meetings with doctors and nurses full of acronyms she could never keep straight, things like IUI and IVF, HSG and CBC.  There were ultrasounds with the doctor sticking a lubed-up wand sheathed in a condom up her vag to inspect her ovaries, counting how many looked “good,” whatever that fucking meant, and measuring their sizes with a few clicks of a mouse.  There were blood tests and sperm counts, trying to pinpoint who exactly the problem was with, her or Aidan, without any concrete answer other than sometimes these things just happen, which seemed like total bullshit.

They started out with the less invasive and less expensive option first.  There were three cycles of IUI over three months.  Three separate injections to trigger the release of an egg at just the right moment, three times the doctor let Aidan depress the plunger of the syringe, pushing his own sperm through a tiny catheter and up into DJ’s uterus.  Three times they hoped they’d fall into the twenty-fifth percentile of successful fertilizations.  But each try always ended the same, disappointment after disappointment.

Nothing prepares you for the weight of failure, for the shame.  That your body is somehow missing something, or just not good enough to do what it was supposed to.  It was irrational, she knew, but DJ had spent so many years trying not to get pregnant, that the irony that it may never happen was suffocating.  She wondered if maybe this was never really meant for her at all.  That maybe it was the universe’s way of saying it was better not to bring another Vance into the world.

But Aidan refused to give up, not when there was still something left to try.  Not when there was still a chance.

So now it was IVF or nothing.

She’d taken the hormones to mature the eggs, injecting herself in the abdomen three different times each night for weeks with multiple drugs costing thousands of dollars that she can’t spell and can only barely pronounce.  They messed with her moods, making her feel like she was someone else entirely, and not someone she liked.  There were countless scans and blood draws, multiple visits to the clinic per week leading up to the retrieval, only for her body to mature a meager half dozen viable eggs that were sucked out via tiny catheter, then fertilized in a dish in a lab adjacent to the procedure room.  It was all so sterile and cold.  Nothing like how she imagined this all going.  But after all of it, all the money and the medications, the appointments and the tests, the bloating and weeks of recovery, they had three healthy embryos.  Three last chances for a baby of their own. 

In the rare moments DJ allowed herself to dream, she hoped that their baby would have red hair.

More pills, more injections, more cycle tracking, then finally transfer day arrives.  Aidan is sure to kiss her long and hard in the car before they go in, promising to love her no matter what happens.  It all just feels like waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The waiting room of the clinic is always busy, a strange liminal space that always feels like there’s too little air and two much of something else, invisible and unnamable.  It’s mostly women, some with partners and some without.  Nearly everyone has their phones out and hardly anyone ever makes eye contact.  Heads go up when a new patient comes in, women clocking another stranger traveling down this same shitty path, all inflicted with the same lingering failure.  She’s spent a lot of time in this room.  Too much time.  Over the past months, she’s watched the tall skinny palm in the far corner turn brown then start to drop its leaves, dying without sunlight in this windowless room.

It’s hard to feel hopeful, even though the odds of success of IVF are much higher.  But with her age and how few chances they have left, it’s all one big shitty fucking cosmic gamble and DJ has never been very lucky.

There’s more fanfare this time, the doctor making a show of it as he threads the catheter in, pointing to a singular grainy line on the ultrasound as Aidan takes a video with his phone of the meager few minutes the procedure takes.  The nurse points to a tiny blip on a black and white screen.  Their baby.

It’s another week of waiting before they are back in for yet another blood test.  DJ could barely stand to look at her own arms, the bruising in the crooks of her elbows from all the needle sticks a constant reminder of the mountain she had to climb just to make it this far.  Of everything she’s been through just to be here.

The phone rings on a Friday morning, before Aidan left for the gym and while DJ was still only half way through the smoothie he insisted on making for her each morning.  But they weren’t pregnant and the disappointment was the strongest wave yet, swelling with each empty word from the nurse across the line, cresting and drowning them both.

One attempt down, two to go.

A few weeks later they try again, but the result doesn’t change.  Negative, negative, negative.  A never ending cycle of failure.  This time DJ keeps the news from Aidan on the eve of his first ever UFC fight.  She’ll carry this burden alone, at least for the time being, but she escapes to the mansion to sit with it just in case, knowing he’ll be able to tell what’s up the second he sees her.

DJ doesn’t know why she expected better from her mother after finally telling her the truth.  All she’s done her whole life is disappoint Deborah, so why should this be any different?  She should’ve just continued to keep it to herself, to live in this grief alone, rather than expect her mother to care.  At least after the mess of that conversation she felt something other than despair, the anger white hot and blazing.  Deborah all but said DJ would be a shit mother, but it takes one to know one and she didn’t need any of this anymore.  Not Deborah’s judgment, not her criticisms.  And definitely not Deborah projecting her own trauma onto DJ.  Aidan was not Frank and DJ was not Deborah.  Their love stories wouldn’t end the same way, with a fucked up kid caught in the middle of it all.  The fact that her and Aidan have to try this hard, have to jump through this many hoops just for the chance at parenthood proves they’re more ready than DJ’s parents ever were.

At least Deborah makes half an effort to apologize.

The next day, after Aidan wins his fight against all odds, they take it as a sign.  They’re going to give it one last shot.  Because the Vances are fighters.  And they don’t give up until they’ve won.

#hacks #prompts with friends #tho this one was not a prompt and just for me #hope it works out for you deej #fyi this is not avadeb #ivf journey #shits really hard yall #took me a bit to get over deborahs initial reaction in canon to dj's news #but it actually makes total sense that she doesn't want dj to get burned by getting married and having a kid so fast just like she did #when it all went so fucking very wrong for deborah way back when #but that's the tricky thing about writing only from one POV #dj is so sunk into her own shit (literally the despair is truly horrible) she can't see the warning deb is trying to give #rambling in the tags as usual #i have a lot of thoughts

[cloveroctobers]

OCTOBER PROMPTS 🦇 — 5. RIO

A/N: had a dream about my man the other night so I guess that was his way of telling me that he misses me? We love delulu!!! Anyways thought this would be fun to actually write something on the line of thriller/spooky this time around. This is me making up for not writing part two’s to my other fall inspired prompt on this man way back when. Hope y’all enjoy this 🧡🫶🏽!!!

PROMPT is from HERE + I’m using: A Begs B to come explore an old house that they believe is haunted. B is hesitant, especially after hearing the scary tales A knows so much about.

*GIF + PHOTO DO NOT BELONG TO ME!

WARNINGS: some France slander, language & hints of sexual content.

<- read my previous October anthology prompt here.

𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆 𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆 𒅒𒈔

Being in France for the month of October initially wasn’t the plan.

Khadijah and Rio ventured out here for a couple days for Khadijah’s birthday and for Rio to tie up some loose ends for business. What was supposed to be a four day trip turned into a much longer adventure.

“I know y’all done heard they got bed bugs out there, why are your asses staying out there longer?” Khadijah’s mother blurted into the FaceTime call.

Rio chuckled to himself by the mini bar, fixing himself something brown before entering the main living room part of the suite.

“Mom,” Khadijah hissed as she flicked through the channels, “this was a unexpected extended birthday trip.”

“Uh huh, sure it is.” The older woman said not entirely believing that, “Don’t think you can get cute on us and decide not to come back.”

“I’m already cute,” Khadijah modeled with extra shoulder as she sat on the tan couch while her mother brings the camera to show that she’s rolling her eyes.

“Well where do you think you get it from?”

“My father.”

“More like you got his smart mouth.” Khadijah’s mom comments, making her child hold up her finger to interject.

Now she loved her mom dearly but it was no secret that Khadijah was a daddy’s girl and her father’s favorite daughter despite what her two sisters thought. She was one of four children while her youngest sibling happened to be the only boy.

“Aw c’mon, don’t do Mr. Wells like that, especially if he’s not here to defend himself. Where is he anyway? It’s gotta be after 10:30 back home?” Rio came into frame, crouching behind Khadijah, who turned to peck his cheek before facing her phone once more.

The woman sighed, “where else? Working, working, working. I’ve been telling him he needs to slow down, he’s not some twenty year old no more. Lord knows it.”

Mr. Wells had a heart attack last year and had to have a stint put in. Rio’s never seen Khadijah’s so stressed before in his life and although the hardworking man had a good job with good insurance working for the city, they slammed him with some bills that Rio paid off. Which Mr. Wells wouldn’t let slide and already was in the process of paying back.

His choice, not Rio’s.

“He’s close to retirement and he loves supporting his family which is respectable.” Rio starts before joking, “once that happens then the both of you can come with us to Paris next time.”

“Uh uh. I’m never going over there, never had the desire to which is why I want y’all asses to get out of there fast!” Mrs. Wells’ large glasses come into frame now as she holds the phone at not the best angle, “I’d love to see Dubai or St. Lucia with Kayode, your father, and I guess your big headed brother can come too, Deej.”

Khadijah laughs, “yeah and he can bring Eliza too.”

“if I catch him even thinking about it, I’ll click my heels three times and send her bony ass right to hell.”

Laughter bubbles in Khadijah’s throat as she sends a teasing smile to Rio who winked back at his wife, knowing that neither of Khadijah’s parents were fond of their youngest child’s significant other. He was nineteen and found his supposed first love so it was evident that the pair were clingy and so in love with each other. They went to the same high school together, weren’t in the same cliques but ended up at the same community college and decided to give each other a try.

In shorter terms.

“We’ll make it happen,” Rio sighs as he comes around to plop down on the couch next to Khadijah, tossing a hand around the back of the couch, “minus Eliza right?”

“Damn straight,” Mrs. Wells humphed, “she can date somebody else’s son and boss them around for all i care. I just hope it’s over before thanksgiving.”

“Now Mom! Let’s not spread that negative energy for your birthday month, do you need some lavender and Kirk Franklin to keep your blood pressure down?”

The woman with the now bonnet secured around her micro locs fanned her hand, “I already had my session with Mr. Franklin around 7pm so hush! You know that’s what I’m wishing for and hoping you don’t wait around and decide to come back then.”

Khadijah blinks at Rio, who meets her stare. He had no plans of staying here longer than another few days, things got delayed and he offered to send Khadijah back to Detroit if that’s what she wanted but she had some vacation time that she didn’t mind using and she didn’t want to leave Rio behind either.

He’s been busy lately and she just knows as soon as they get back to Detroit, he’ll probably disappear for a little awhile again. So sue the woman if she wanted to be a little selfish and spend more time with her man.

“We’re gonna bring you something much better,” Rio smirks after taking a sip of his liquor, “maybe even a new bundle of joy.”

“WHAT?!” Mrs. Wells yells, “don’t play with me right now. When was your last cycle? I’ve been saying your tatas been looking fuller, ooooh I’ll have to tell your grandmomma.”

“Hey, hey! I’m not pregnant—

“Yet. We’ve been practicing though.” Rio announces, biting down on his bottom lip while Khadijah gasps and shoved at his knee.

Mrs. Wells claps her hands in joy, “y’all keep doing that but don’t bring those bed bugs back with you.”

“We won’t and did our research. If it makes you feel any better, we’re leaving this hotel tonight to stay at this castle for the rest of our trip and then tomorrow we’re gonna go explore this historic house since Rio wanted to have a rest day.” Khadijah informs her mother while Rio slowly nods his head, not knowing of the exploring a house portion but they’d discuss it later.

Mrs. Wells yawns as she sits up in bed now, “sounds fancy but okay then, mom’s tired and ready to knock out. But continue to be safe, the both of you and I’ll see you soon?”

“You sure will, night momma Wells.” Rio gave a two finger salute while Khadijah shared, “I love you’s, talk soon.” Before hanging up the call.

Khadijah leans back against the couch with a sigh, “told you mom’s got serious seperation anxiety all thanks to Kaliyah moving to Toronto with her girlfriend and we’re only traveling!”

“Which is exactly why I tried to smooth over her worries with baby talk, it worked didn’t it?” Rio lifts a thick brow while Khadijah shrugs her shoulders.

Soon she rests her head on Rio’s chest, locking her arms around his waist, “it’ll happen when it’s meant to…and we need to make sure we’re all packed for our new temporary home.”

“Oh I know I am, it’s you you gotta worry about mamas.” Rio presses a kiss to Khadijah’s rosemary scented hair.

Khadijah scoffs, “sorry but I had to buy more for this trip…which I’m not complaining! BUT! Paris’ fashion is really for the petite girlies.”

“They’re forreal missing out on the inclusion and better get on that.” Rio hummed.

“Siobhán is.” Khadijah grins while Rio slowly dips his head at the mention of his old designer friend.

Before Khadijah could get into asking about how she’s been doing, Rio sips from his drink once more and changes the subject, “what’s this about exploring tomorrow?”

“We maybe moving into a castle mansion for a little awhile but there’s no way I’m staying cooped up any longer without seeing what Dordogne has to offer.” Khadijah tells her husband with the perfect pronunciation of the town—or rather department as France calls it.

Rio raises the hand the rests against his wife’s shoulder, “heard you, mamas. No arguing on my part but you know it’s beneficial to have reset days too.”

“Which YouTuber told you that?” Khadijah smirks up at the buzz haired man, figuring that he was probably logged onto her account instead of switching over to his own to watch whatever it is he gets into.

Rio snorts, “don’t try and play me, my aesthetician did.”

“Of course they did.” Khadijah nods believing that since Rio didn’t mess around when it came to his skincare, “and you’re right, there’s nothing wrong with rest days. You’ve been running around x2 compared to me so I get it. You get a nap in and I’ll get the bags ready since we have what? An hour before the service comes and gets us.”

Rio grips Khadijah’s hand as she gets up from the couch, “you sure all an hour is what you need?”

“Shut up, Christopher.” Khadijah laughs, matching Rio’s smile before leaving the man to get his nap on.

With the city life behind the married couple, they settled in Dordogne late last night into the 18th century home. Surprisingly Rio wakes up late the next day, like around eleven am late compared to his seven am timeline. However Khadijah doesn’t mind letting him sleep, snapping a picture of his rest with the camera she brought along for the trip. She watches the clock from time to time, knowing just when to order breakfast to be sent to their room.

Khadijah’s sitting on a olive couch pushed underneath the windows which are half pulled back, sipping on caffe viennese, stomach half full from a classic French breakfast as she stares out into the scenery acting like the main character in a Victorian film.

“Morning, mamas. You starting the day without me?” Rio’s rough morning voice greets the brown skinned woman, who glances over her shoulder at him.

A soft smile meets her full lips, “good morning but someone has to get this party started. But don’t worry, I’ll never not let you in on the thrill. Got you one of these,” she holds the mug up in the air, nodding with her chin on the nightstand next to the man, “and there’s breakfast waiting for you underneath the cloche.”

“Did I mention hearing you speak French is sexy?” Rio states as he slowly sits up in bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

Khadijah smirks, “plenty when you were tipsy on the late night ride here.”

“I regret nothing,” Rio laughs before turning to reach and sip at the warm coffee, “this is delicious.”

Khadijah pops her tongue, “Yeah it is.”

“What we doin’ today? Hold up, what time is it?” Rio turns his eyes into slits, reaching for his phone to let out a low whistle, “damn, haven’t slept that long—

“Since you got shot?”

Rio let’s out a cough, “whoa, that was dark.”

“Sorry,” Khadijah says, “kinda just slipped out.”

“Something you wanna talk about, Dija?” Rio hums, staring at his wife from their temporary shared bed.

Khadijah shakes her head, “nothing I want to get into on this brand new day, no. So!”

She uncurls her feet from underneath her to stand in her floral print lace trim set, placing a smile on her lips as she plops down on the bed. Taking a quick sip of the coffee again, she places it on her side of the nightstand and reaches inside to pull out two slips of paper.

“Close your eyes.”

“Why?” Rio suspiciously tries to peek at the papers but Khadijah slaps them right on her chest.

“You asked what we’re gonna do.”

“Didn’t you say exploring some house last night?” Rio frowns, trying to remember.

Khadijah’s little smile to herself seems wicked but as soon as it appeared it vanished while she wiggled a bit on the bed, “that’s tonight’s adventure after dinner. We have at least a few hours before then to do something else so…pick one, anyone.”

The two options were: Château des Milandes OR Canoeing on the Brantôme.

Rio doesn’t wipe the frown off his brows but holds out his thumb and pointer finger while Khadijah holds onto the deck of two pieces. The tatted man makes a show of taking his time debating, just to irritate Khadijah for a little until he smiles picking the paper to the left.

And the winner is…

“Great choice! Now get your butt up and let’s shower, they’ve been open since 9 this morning.”

Chateau des Milandes!

Rio hums as he studies the paper, sipping at his coffee then replies, “can I enjoy my breakfast along with the view first?”

Khadijah dramatically sighs as she flops beside Rio, resting on her elbow to stare back at the ajar windows, “oh fine but I promise you, the one outside is much better.”

“personally I like the one right next to me.”

Khadijah flicks her head back to meet Rio’s brown eyes and she can’t help but to let a smile split over her lips, then puckering them for Rio to peck and lick his own smiling lips afterwards, “you think you’re so smooth.”

“I mean give a guy some credit. How else do you think I got you?” Rio chuckled while Khadijah just nodded her head from side to side mockingly.

“Just eat your food Christopher.”

It was Rio’s turn to mimic his wife.

“Aight, Khadijah.” He said over his shoulder, sitting on his knees and reaching over for the second tray of food.

Chateau Des Milandes was a sight to see and was a wonderful experience. Ugh!!! here Khadijah was sounding like her very emotional Granny Mozella but she never took moments like these with Rio for granted. On the outside it may seem like Rio was only street smart since that’s what he preferred yet he didn’t mind listening in on historical facts from time to time and no he wasn’t really into podcasts—unless it was true crime content—but no one could ever say he wasn’t open to learning new material and translating it into his own life.

He was good at finding purpose in anything.

He also liked draping his arm across Khadijah’s shoulders as they took the tour around the home that used to be owned by the successful Josephine Baker. That was more interesting to Khadijah than the Lords that lived it way before Ms. Baker but nonetheless they took it all in together including the architecture.

No one could deny that France had a way with its design and art.

They explored the garden, which led to a picnic and wine for dinner with the French sunset as the perfect backdrop, then they ended their time at the Chateau with a bird experience, much to Rio’s surprise as Khadijah winked and placed a kiss on the tattoo on his neck, before clenching onto his arm for dear life once the various of birds—specifically the one that was very similar to the one on Rio’s skin started flying around.

Rio found amusement in that, even when they made it back to the rental car.

“If that big ass bird would have crapped on me, we would have been having a whole different type of bird for thanksgiving this year.” Khadijah continuously checked her outfit for any unfamiliar marks, the paranoia getting to her.

Rio couldn’t help but to throw his head back against the headrest laughing. “They’ve been trained, that wasn’t gonna happen. Plus it may just wanted a strand of your hair for warmth, huh? French winters can be brutal so I hear.”

The man went to curl a strand of his wife’s loose curl that framed her face who scoffed at him.

“You’re far from funny, Mr. Montoya.” Khadijah slapped his hand away to fix her pin curl updo in the drop down mirror.

Rio chuckled some more, watching her, “you’re right…I’m hilarious, Mrs. Montoya.”

“Im glad you had fun, baby. I can tell the bird part was your favorite,” Khadijah gave the man a playful side eye, “but now it’s time for my activity.”

Rio glanced at the watch on his wrist, “it’s going on seven…what else you trying to get into besides drinking more wine and eating cheese?”

“Whew! No more cheese for me.” Khadijah flicked the sun visor back up, “so…I have this other place to visit.”

Rio tapped on the GPS, “aight, what’s the address?”

“I don’t think the GPS will fully locate it…just to a certain point.”

Rio thought about this for a second and asked, “what? It’s some underground event or something?”

“Well sure, yeah. Kinda.” Khadijah shrugged her shoulders making Rio sigh and sit back with his hands clasped.

Khadijah was tapping away on her phone for a moment while Rio just studied her. When she realized the car wasn’t moving, Khadijah turned her attention back to Rio who was patiently waiting for her to come right on out with it.

“We’re not going anywhere until you give me the info I need. No shady shit allowed.”

Khadijah turned sideways to face Rio, “Okay so…there’s this house that we should see.”

“You said that already. But Why? To buy?”

“Hell no,” Khadijah was quick to say, further making Rio put his guard up as to what this whole adventure was even about, “I mean no…yeah no that’s exactly what I mean. It wouldn’t be for us to live…just to see.”

Rio pried, “what’s so special about it?”

“It has a colorful story.”

“Which is…?”

“The year was 1666–

“Nah,” Rio immediately said leaning forward to start the engine but Khadijah flew her hand out to stop Rio from switching the gears.

“You didn’t let me finish.”

Rio leans on the console to completely face Khadijah, “by the way you’re dragging this out let’s me know you’re about to tell me some bullshit, that you know I’m not about to let fly.”

“Can’t a bitch add some extra flavor to the tale?” Khadijah scrunches up her face, “Sheesh.”

“Stop playin’ with me, Dija.”

“So hostile,” Khadijah flicked her hair off her shoulder, “alright you want the synopsis? Got it. So this house is special because during the year of 1666 a woman named Blanche lived there with her father, mother, two siblings, and new husband. Allegedly she was later accused of poisoning her family and beheaded her husband after they all suspected she was a witch because of some rumors started at the hospital she volunteered at. Her sickly father was the one to put her down after his wife and other children slowly started to die one by one. They say Blanche still haunts the home and asks when and or if you visit, to leave a ribbon and tea bag’s on their front step as a offering and for her to rid any vengeance in your life.”

Rio caressed his facial hair in thought, “Question for you, mamas? Did that eagle peck at your brain when i wasn’t around or…”

Khadijah sucks her teeth, “it’s spooky season, asshole!”

“I know that,” Rio lifts his shoulders carelessly, “but you’re trying to get into some serious shit and I can tell you one thing: I’m not feelin’ it.”

“Are you scared?” Khadijah leaned into the center console ready to comfort him, “I never said we had to go inside the house. Just see it and leave something for Blanche.”

Rio didn’t miss how Khadijah started to trail her hands over him but he didn’t fold, “Her business ain’t ours.”

It was Khadijah’s turn to laugh now, “you’re definitely scared!”

“No I’m not.” Rio scowled, “I’m just saying you have to be careful what you expose yourself to. I told moms we’d bring her back a baby, not a witch that may latch onto your body.”

Khadijah frowns, “why would you think Blanche would latch onto mine and not yours?”

“Whoever! And I really can’t wrap my head around the fact that you’re trying to mess with some spirits.”

Khadijah wasn’t trying to “‘mess with spirits,” she always respected the dead but this sounded better than visiting the catacombs to be honest.

So she challenged, “Hey! It’s something to do.”

“I can find plenty of other things we can get into.” Rio placed his chin into the palm of his hand, “We’re not about to be here much longer anyway.”

Khadijah sighs as she grabs Rio’s hand to place in her lap, “I’ll let you try out our new toy at the same time while you’re inside…”

Rio’s eyes begin to darken as they meet Khadijah’s much lighter ones. This was a promising bargain and this Khadijah knew as Rio trailed his own hand up her stomach, between her breasts, and to grip her chin.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Rio states as he presses their lips together and leads the way with his tongue dancing along hers.

It’s passionate and a little nasty just the way the married couple liked their kisses but brief enough that he leaves Khadijah panting on the passenger side. He smirks to himself, lifting up from the driver’s side to pull out his Glock 17 from his black jeans to rest on the dashboard.

“Put your seatbelt on,” Rio tells Khadijah who shortly follows through, “and not a word of this to my abuelita.”

Khadijah makes a cross my heart motion as Rio puts the car in drive.

The drive to this supposed haunted home was a good half hour north from where they were staying and the decline of the countryside was clear. There seemed to be no livelihood as the skies got even darker. Rio could sense to the left of him that Khadijah seemed to be at unease the deeper they got into the area.

He checks in, “How we doing?”

“Hm? Oh, there it is. Stop.”

Rio turns his attention back to the lack of road up ahead and notices that there’s a tunnel with no lighting. He steps on the breaks, witnessing to the left of the tunnel the narrow road carried upwards to what exactly? That he didn’t know. There was no homes or animals in sight on this drive since they started getting further away from the chateau.

“What’s this?”

“That’s the tunnel that leads to Blanche’s house.” Khadijah is sitting on the edge of the passenger seat now.

Rio tightens his hold on the steering wheel, eyes scanning the scenery with the help of the automatic headlights. If they went through that tunnel, which was surely to be just as narrow as the roads out here in the countryside he wasn’t positive they would make it back. His intuition  was telling him since the beginning that this didn’t feel right and being physically here was enough to confirm that for Rio.

Turning his eyes into slits towards the right of the tunnel, Rio can see a decaying headstone with a bunch of colorful ribbons tossed around and possibly some rocks that were most likely teabags scattered below it.

“This is what you came for,” Rio says keeping his eyes on the road.

“Oui-Oui.” Khadijah says suddenly halfhearted and any other time Rio would have laughed but the expression on her face made him aware that the tension was also felt by her as well.

Rio steps on the gas, driving full speed towards the tunnel but stops just at edge, parallel to the headstone, making Khadijah grip the dashboard at the abruptness.

“Get going, sweetheart.” Rio tells Khadijah with a lift of his chin.

Khadijah swallows, prying her eyes away from the tunnel then to the headstone and back to her husband. “W-what? You’re not coming with me?”

“I never said I was going in there. I have sense.” Rio tapped at his temple.

Khadijah glares, “wow. So here’s to trying new things was just another one of your lies then huh?”

“Another? Don’t go there, I’m not doing that with you this evening. You brought this terrible idea to me and I brought you here so go head, show me you’re the one who isn’t scared.” Rio’s hardened stare was now on the fuming woman.

Khadijah didn’t know what the fuck Rio’s problem was and why he thought this energy was okay? Khadijah didn’t like Rio’s tone so she snatched her baguette bag from beside her feet and went to push on the door but remained right inside.

“Are you serious?!”

Rio made a U-Turn and began driving back in the direction they came, “are you forreal thinking I’m about to have our asses messing around with the actual dead? Let alone your indecisive ass? And we don’t even have the full context?”

“I mean…do you not have bodies? You don’t see me questioning you about them.” Khadijah muttered.

Rio snapped his eyes to his wife, “two completely different things and you know that.”

It really wasn’t but okay, if Rio hated her riding the fence then let’s see if he hated it now.

“Whatever.” Khadijah slouched against the seat, “You just wasted our time, like why entertain the fact that you were with it if you’re just gonna try to clown me?”

“I wasn’t letting you do that and you should have known that.” Rio clenched his jaw, “I would never willingly put you in harm’s way and that’s exactly what you were signing up for.”

Khadijah knows Rio wouldn’t and if she wanted to be petty she could but she just mumbles, “You just ruined spooky season in France like?”

“Better throw that ribbon and teabags out the window and get glad. Who knows what would have happened if we went down that dark ass tunnel with only the Glock against a whole spirit mind you, that we don’t even know if she’s still vengeful or not.”

“I mean you make valid arguments…and I don’t even know if the house is still standing. The last update online was from 2021 so I guess I can’t be too pressed about it.” Khadijah explains as she starts to search through her bag, “but you can’t say I was indecisive this time, yet you locked me in here like I’m a child.”

Rio deeply exhales, rubbing at his face in slight aggravation, “yeah we gotta get back to Detroit and quick. I think you need to go back to work and continue spreading peaceful energy at that non-profit instead whatever this is.”

“What?” Khadijah sucked her teeth, “Trying to be on theme?”

“We could easily rent a movie at the spot and call it a day.”

“I wanna be one with nature!”

“As soon as we get far away from Blanche’s murder site, I’ll take the locks off so you can touch some grass.”

“Ohhhh, I cannot stand you!” Khadijah scowled followed by some laughter before ghosting her fingers over the window button, “is this going to work for me or am I still being held hostage?”

Rio just hums to himself, glancing in the rear view spotting a blur of white in the distance along with something that wasn’t tumbleweed rolling right by their feet.

Khadijah doesn’t notice as she cracks the window to toss a pink ribbon and a teabag out on the dirt road.

And when she looks in the rearview, she doesn’t see anything unusual or creepy. So she rolls her window back up and presses her elbow into the arm of the door, resting her cheek along her fingers, watching the night scenery whip by her highlighter eyes.

Soon Rio’s hand reaches for the Glock to rest in the cup holders before sneaking his hand over to bring Khadijah’s hand up to his lips. He knew she was a little sour with him over this and probably a bunch of other built up issues but Khadijah always tried to make the best of it.

Rio was trying to get better at validating her feelings but this shit right here was not it and Khadijah knew that inside. Which is why he had a more safer route up his sleeve to spend the day with Khadijah tomorrow since celebrating Halloween was apparently too american for the French. So he did the best that he could choosing a theme park that would be “on theme” for Khadijah’s spooky cravings.

That would be his gift to her and routine of keeping her best interest at heart, even if she didn’t fully want to see it that way sometimes…

Ah, she’ll be aight.

𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆 𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆 𒅒𒈔

Continue along with my October anthology prompts here.

#Spotify #Rio good girls #rio x black!reader #rio x reader #october prompts #queued #spooky prompts #good girls nbc #Rio x oc #manny montana

[monkeymanproductions]

We’ve talked about it a little, but now we’re officially announcing that we’ve entered production for our newest show, Waiting for October! Our crowdfunding campaign kicks off one week from today, May 5th! We’ve been working on things for a while - Deej has been hard at work at writing (some of their best work in our opinion!), Tina and @muppet4muppet have been working on pre-production and getting our funding campaign set up, and we’ve been having some very fun conversations with our cast (exciting announcements coming soon on that front!) Watch this space for more announcements! And our Instagram, Facebook, Tumblr, wherever you're not seeing this announcement - or you can always find the info on our website, https://monkeymanproductions.com/ You can also get notified of our crowdfunding campaign launch at https://crowdfundr.com/waitingforoctober

#waiting for october #monkeyman productions #audio fiction #audio drama #fiction podcast #supernatural podcast #queer podcast #podcasts

[changanomaly]

total drama characters who i hc as aromantic (and maybe aroace) with little ramblings under all of them because I believe the world needs to know

Ella's in denial about being aro- it's her internalized amatonormativity. She obviously looks up to fairy tales with happy endings where the girl gets the guy and lives happily ever after. I think she turned to "liking" Dave for a bit because of that, because he fulfilled this role of being her “prince”, not because she actually liked him all that much. Typical hopeless romantic turning out to be aro situation (or maybe I’m projecting). Maybe an explanation as to why her liking Dave feels so forced to me, or maybe I want to justify Pahkitew’s bad writing

DEEJ. DJ. I think he’s been sure of this for a while now. He doesn’t show romantic attraction towards anyone in the show at all, and in instances when it's insinuated by his peers he seems repulsed at the idea (this post here just sums it up so much better than I could). He's super content with how things are for him and long accepted that he’s aro. He’d probably still want to be in a QPR though imo!

OKAY. Realizing now that Ella’s really the only one I have any interesting reasons for hcing as aro because I can’t say much about Kitty BUT SHE’S SO ARO TO ME. Like you know when you’re aro and have that hindsight towards everyone else’s romantic relationships and also give killer love advice because of said hindsight. THAT IS HER.

#sorry my demons #they took over my body and made me type this out #aromantic #total drama #total drama island #total drama ridonculous race #total drama pahkitew island #total drama kitty #total drama dj #total drama ella #td ella #td kitty #td dj #total drama headcanons

[megatrxnic]

Finnigan "Fitz" Barnes || he/him/his || pygmy/jamnapari goat || 30

update for a dear OC of mine ;u; <3 don't consider myself a real furry [moreso enthusiast] , so yeah! Finnigan or "Fitz" was one of my first 'coming out' OC's that I created with the help of my brother, @monkie-deej. <3

Profile below the cut ;u;

\\\-Basics-\\\

☽｡⋆Name: Finnigan Olivander Barnes

☽｡⋆Nickname(s): Finn, Finny, “Fitz”, Finners, Fizzy, Fizzles, 

☽｡⋆Species: Pygmy Goat, Jamnapari Goat & 0.2% fainting goat

☽｡⋆Age: 30

☽｡⋆Height: 5'3"

☽｡⋆Weight: 290+lbs

☽｡⋆Hair Color: curly and dyed pink

☽｡⋆Eye Color: Kelly Green

☽｡⋆Fur Color: rich cream colored w/ Rusty, Reddish Brown markings + "pink nose"

☽｡⋆Hoof/Horn Color: pale, pastel slate brown

☽｡⋆Tattoos: none

☽｡⋆Scars: right elbow; knees [scattered]

☽｡⋆Piercings: Ear lobes, bullring/septum

☽｡⋆Notable Accessories: Occasionally; a paperboy hat, fingerless gloves, kandi bracelets galore

\\\-Personality-\\\

☽｡⋆Occupation/Specialties: Zombies/Ghouls, Drawing, Writing, and Currently Unemployed from a REAL jobbb

☽｡⋆Fears: *murky [deep] water, heights and most high speeds, losing Audron

☽｡⋆Hobbies: Drawing, writing, scrapbooking, collecting various things, reading, cooking

☽｡⋆Clothing: Prefers clothing to be on the more comfortable side, edgy. He doesn’t have much of a ‘fashion’ sense, and he doesn’t really care what others think of his personal, artsy choices. As long as it’s comfortable and brings good feelings, he’ll wear it. Hee mostly prefers graphic tees, dark colored band tees, sometimes with silly phrases alongside fitted jeans [in pink or purple] and crazy hoof-shoes.

☽｡⋆Personality: Finn has a gentle heart, and a childlike nature and mind most often. He can be very sensible, yet very sensitive, and is always willing to accept those willing to accept him. He adores and is always willing to make new friends of all walks of life, but has a hard time doing so, making him seem somewhat imposing and difficult to approach. He may see the glass half empty on some days, but never doubts a rainy day having a chance to be a genuine, good one. It’s hard to make him cry, but when he does, he spills his heart, and usually feels better by the end of it. Overall, he is a very generous, kind, and caring individual, who is fun loving, and adventurous at best.

☽｡⋆Relationships: 

–Romantic: Closed // [fictionally]

–List: Macaque [Lego Monkie Kid], Ryo Asuka//Satan [Devilman Franchise], Kumatetsu [The Boy and the Beast]

–Friends: Audron/OddyMoo [ @monkie-deej], Shadow/Shade [ @evil-dad-evil], 

–Friendships: Open // [just ask! <3]

\\\-Weaknesses/Negative Traits/Disadvantages-\\\

☽｡⋆Illnesses: short temper, sad very often, tummy troubles, common migraines and symptoms

☽｡⋆Weaknesses: pollen/allergies, social anxiety, anger issues, 

\\\-Other Preferences-\\\

☽｡⋆Likes: Cooking, Eating, Star Gazing, Mythology, Vampires and cryptids, All nighters with friends, drawing, rodents/marsupials, winged things, dinosaurs and paleo, undead things, dark poetry, loud music, swimming, plushies, reading, the undead, cooking, being lazy on comfy days

☽｡⋆Dislikes: negative thoughts, bright lights, migraines, losing control over himself, repetitive noises, fake people, fakes and liars, assumptions, cleaning, control freaks, 

☽｡⋆Romantic Preference: Demi-Asexual

#my art #artists on tumblr #self insert #anthro #furry oc #goat furry #Fitz and Flowers

[askblog-cvesocs]

General OC Information…

Mostly about names

Today, I’ve been figuring out my character’s last names. I often, instead of writing, work more on my characters. I would love to write, but I just like.. don’t for some reason.

I have PLENTY of OCs, and background for almost all of them.

One I wanna talk about (the first topic before my sidetrack starts) is Aiden. The last name I gave him is Barkesly (It’s pronounced “barks-lee”). His name is Aiden Barkesly. At school, ya know when you have a sub and there’s always someone whose name gets butchered? Often times more than one person? Aiden is one of those people.

The ways his last name gets pronounced are like

-(“Bark-eh-sly”)

-(“Bar-kez-lee”)

There’s also Anque, (her name is pronounced “on-kay”). Some people say:

-(“Ann-kyoo”)

-(“Ann-keh”)

-something like those and other ways that people might pronounce it wrong

A few of my OCs have pretty unique names.

Some names I made up myself were

[Pyrus], [Vaunne], [Hille] (literally just hill with an e at the end), [Anque] (as I said, pronounced “on-kay”), [Vydd] (pronounced “vid”. Everyone calls her Vee. Some people don’t even know her real name is Vydd), and [Jack]. [Jack]’s nickname is [Gheej], Hille calls him that sometimes, only family and close friends call him “Gheej” (pronounced like the nickname “deej”, but with a “g” instead of a “d”).

Hille’s last name, Wyvernn, I came up with when I first made him.

(I made most of my OCs in like.. beginning or middle-ish of 2023? like around June or July maybe. ((note from like 10 minutes after writing this: actually only a few, including: Reed, Auggie, Hille and Vee)) Though, Reed, Auggie, and Hille were all kind of.. established? might be the word? in September of 2022. I know that because the draft I wrote that insipired literally their whole story—even though it was not even a chapter long and was only like five or six paragraphs long—was written or last saved in September 2022. I was looking through the few drafts I had on Wattpad, this was around June or July in 2023, I found the draft with the start of their story, and immediately I was like “OH MY GOD I was GOING somewhere with this!!!” I was extremely happy. THAT was when I started to kick writer’s block in the ass. Writer’s block is now not even existent to me. It’s both awesome and somewhat not awesome at the same time.)

For a bit, last year, I wanted to know where the heck I got “Wyvernn” from. Then someday I logged back onto Discord for The First Time In Forever™, and on the loading screen, for a BRIEF second, I saw it said (something like) “Discord used to be called Wyvern at some point. Not too proud of that one”. So I was like “OHH”.

I don’t know where the hell I got “Anque” “Pyrus” “Vaunne” and “Gheej” from, but I’m pretty proud that I made ‘em up myself. (for some reason, very proud).

that concludes this post. ★

#oc info #writing #original characters #general oc info

[zeta-neubourn]

I was thinking about making Deej (mostly) nonverbally autistic, where he communicates with his DJ deck or a pocket lil soundboard or just by beatboxing. I already had that down for him, but recently I asked "why and does he ever speak normally?" So, it just clicked. :P But I'd wanna write em the right way, too. Being autistic myself, I figure I'd have a bit of knowledge on it and hell, I even communicate with weird sounds that if you don't know me, you won't know the meaning.... like, I'm not just saying that. Ask anyone that knows me personally. :P But yeah, I'd wanna write 'em correctly, so he reps properly. I think it'd be cool to have some more neurodivergent kiddos to my roster. :P Kinda of cathartic for me. But yeah, at the same time, I feel like I'send up doing something wrong and then people get upset and ehhgh. x-x Err, maybe it's more accurate to say semi-verbal, because he'll talk to a few sometimes, but like... ONLY them, because they trust them enough. It's a spectrum, man. :P I'm still trying to figure myself out. Like, when I stream I can talk for day, but in person, I mostly quiet. I unno, I've been trying to figure myself out again, so I guess it's getting into my characters again. ^^;;;

#znramblings #character #design #autism #nonverbal #nudibranch #semiverbal

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

Best of a Bad Situation

Fandom: Full House

Pairing: N/A

Characters: Danny Tanner, Original Female Character, Jesse Katsopolis, Joey Gladstone, Michelle Tanner, DJ Tanner, Stephanie Tanner, Becky Donaldson

Word Count: 1839 // Rating: Gen

Summary: Danny knows his daughters well.

Tags/ Warnings: My Writing, Danny Tanner, Full House Fic, Family, Loss of a Parent, Parenting, Grief, Dysfunctional Family, Hugs, Requests, Requested Fic, Best of a Bad Situation

Notes: working through requests

REQUEST

@ancis93 - Hey, I see you're accepting 'Full House' character requests. It really annoys me that everyone only writes about Jessi (nothing against him, he's a great uncle) but nothing about Danny, he's a great dad isn't he? I would like to have a request for him where he has another daughter (older than DJ) who is being bullied at school and she gradually starts to distance herself from her sisters, uncles and even her father and Danny decides to confront her one day, find out what's going on and help her... Something cute if possible🧡🧡🧡

'And make sure to grab some towels DJ,' Danny said as he finished stuffing the rest of Michelle and Stephanie's swimsuits into the bag. 

'Sure Dad,' DJ said as she disappeared up the back stairs towards the linen closet. 

'Are you excited to go to the pool, Michelle?' Danny asked his youngest child who was sitting at the table next to her sister shovelling cheerios into her mouth. 

'Super excited!' Michelle said excitedly, 'Denise said her family are gonna be there too today.'

'Well, that's good you can play in the kiddie pool,' Stephanie said. 

'We're going in the big pool!' Michelle protested. 

'Nuh huh,' Stephanie replied.

'Uh huh!' Michelle rebutted. 

'Girls,' Danny sighed, 'stop arguing or neither of you will be going anywhere.'

The girls looked at one another, narrowing their eyes as they scowled at one another before proceeding to carry on stuffing cheerios into their mouths. Danny shook his head and turned away. As he turned to start packing their lunches into a bag DJ came back downstairs towels in hand. She slid onto a stool by the kitchen island, handing the towels over to her father. 

'Thanks Deej,' Danny said as he placed them inside, 'wait, you missed one. There's only four here.'

'I know,' DJ said, 'Kelly's not coming.' 

'What?' Danny said. 

'I told her to get a move on but she said she's not coming,' DJ shrugged.

'Oh she did, did she?' Danny asked. 

'What does it matter anyway?' DJ asked, 'we can still go. She'll only be a total buzz kill if she does come.' 

'Yeah,' Michelle said, 'last time we went to the park she wouldn't even push me on the swing. Joey had to do it.'

'Well at least Joey helped you,' Stephanie said, their argument seemingly forgotten. 

'Yeah but then I had to push him and he's heavy,' Michelle said, scrunching up her nose. 

At that moment Joey and Jesse burst into the room. Jesse was wearing his jeans and trusty leather jacket, a simple t-shirt underneath. The only giveaway he would even be near any water was the towel tucked underneath his arm. Joey however was completely the opposite. He was wearing board shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. He had his body board under his arm and a towel wrapped around his neck. 

'Right, who's ready for a day at the pool?' Jesse asked. 

'We are!' Michelle and Stephanie chimed. 

'Deej?' Joey asked.

'As ever,' DJ smiled.

'Where's Kel?' Jesse asked, looking around for his eldest niece. 

'She's not coming,' Michelle shrugged. 

'What?' Jesse said going to scoop Michelle off of her chair and place her on his hip, 'how come?

'I don't know,' Danny said. Worry griped at his stomach for a moment. He thought of his eldest daughter. He had noticed a change in her, She wasn't naughty or getting in trouble. She didn't fight with her sisters, hell, she didn't do much of anything anymore. She went to school, did her homework and was always polite. But she wasn't herself. 

'Well she can't miss out on family fun day,' Joey said, 'right girls?' 

'Yeah, why don't we go and see if we can talk her around?' Jesse said. 

'No,' Danny said, 'guys how about you head to the pool with the girls and me and Kel will join you later?' 

'Are you sure?' Joey asked. 

'Yeah,' Danny said, handing his bags to the blonde-haired man. The gang started to gather their things and head to the front door leaving Danny standing in the kitchen alone.

He sighed and headed up the back stairs. When he got to DJ and Kelly's room he found the door closed and the soft thud of music echoing from underneath. He knocked and waited for a moment but when no response came from the other side he knocked again and then pushed the door open quietly. 

Kelly was sitting on her bed, cross-legged, skimming through a magazine though she looked up when he entered.

'Hey Kel,' he said, coming into the room. 

'Hi dad,' she said meekly. 

'Are you ready for the pool? Looks like it's a great day for it,' he said softly as he moved into the room and perched on the end of her bed. 

'Actually Dad,' she said, dropping her gaze to her magazine, 'I don't really feel like it.'

'But you love the pool,' Danny said, 'and we always have a good time.'

'I guess but I just don't feel like it,' she said.

'You don't feel like much these days huh? I know the girls said-' Danny started though it was cut off. 

'Well we're not joined at the hip you know,' Kelly snapped. She threw the magazine down on the floor and folded her arms across her chest. Danny sighed.

'No,' Danny said, reaching out to put a reassuring hand on her knee, 'but I know my girls. And I know that if you won't even be friends with them, something is definitely up.' Kelly said nothing but she didn't meet his gaze either. He stroked her knee with the pad of his thumb trying to coax whatever was bothering her to the surface. But it didn't come. Instead, Danny watched as his oldest child started to shed tears that dropped from her eyes and down onto her jeans as she had bowed her head. He shuffled forward and pulled her into him as he mumbled, 'oh sweetheart.'

Kelly allowed herself to be pulled into her father's side. She let him hug her until her breath became shaky and the shoulder of Danny's shirt became damp and snotty. His heart felt heavy as he held her but he waited until the crying had subsided enough to pull away and look into his daughter's young face. 

'Sweetheart, what's wrong?' he asked, using his thumb pad to wipe tears from her face. 

'I can't tell you,' she replied. 

'Hey now,' he chastised, 'you can tell me anything you know that.' 

'Not this,' she sniffled, 'you won't understand.' 

'Well I won't understand if you never tell me now will I?' he reasoned. Kelly just shook her head and scrunched her eyes closed as if he would be able to tell what she was thinking, 'you won't understand because...because you're not a girl.' 

'Oh,' Danny said sadly.

The two fell silent for a moment. Thoughts swirled around Danny's mind and he tried to figure out what it could be. Girls' problems. That sounded like a hint but knowing how complex teenage girls could be it could have been a world of things. Finally, he spoke, 'does it have anything to do with why you don't want to go to the pool today?' 

Kelly nodded.

'Is it wearing a swimsuit?' he asked. Kelly shook her head.

'Is it...boy related?' he said. Kelly shook her head once more. Danny tried to hide how big his sigh of relief was. His mind blanked. He was two questions in and he was at a loss. Thankfully, Kelly seemed to notice he was lacking, 'it's because...'

Danny held on. He didn't want to spook her. Didn't want her to retract back into herself as she had been doing. 

'It's because I'm on my period,' she said eventually.

'Oh,' he said before brightening, 'well that's okay.'

'No, it's not. It's horrible.'

'Well, I know the first time is a little-'

'It's not the first time,' she said quietly. 

'It's not?' Danny said, trying to think back over the past few months. Had it been happening under his nose and he never noticed? Did his daughter feel that he couldn't tell him everything? 

'No, it happened last month in gym class. Everyone saw it was so embarrassing,' she said, wincing a little at the memory, 'the teacher sent me back to the locker room and...'

'It's okay,' Danny said, 'you can tell me.' 

'And I spotted one of the other girls had ...you know...stuff in her bag. So I stole it out of her school bag,' she admitted. 

'Oh honey,' Danny said. She was still leaning against him and he allowed his hand to come behind her and stroke her hair gently. 

'They caught me,' she said, 'I tried to pretend I hadn't but they were really mean about it....they told me to stop being so pathetic and just ask my mom.' 

There it was. The words Danny hated hearing the most. She needed her mom. 

He knew it wasn't anyone's fault. He knew Pam would be here, walking him through everything if she hadn't been taken cruelly early. He knew that he, Joey and Jesse made the best of their situation. They were enough for the girls. But they couldn't be everything. They didn't know about girl stuff. Sometimes you just need your mom.

'I guess there's some things me and the guys can't help you with huh?' he asked. Kelly nodded sadly.

'I mean they'd already bagged on me for not having a bra yet,' she said, 'I made Sarah give me one of hers so they'd shut up. But they just don't.'

'Well, maybe we can change that,' Danny said. 

'How?' Kelly asked, hope evident in her quiet voice. 

'Well first of all we can go and get you everything you need for...well you know,' he said suddenly embarrassed, 'and then maybe I can ask Becky if she would take you bra shopping? I mean I'm happy to take you but she might have a little more idea than I do in that department...' 

Kelly nodded. Danny smiled, 'And then if you want I can speak to your teacher? About the girls.'

'No!' Kelly said all too quickly making Danny's smile fade a little, 'I mean I'm sure they'll give up now.'

'But if they don't you'll tell me right?' Danny said. Kelly looked up and nodded, 'Me or Joey, or Jesse, or Becky. Whatever it is, however embarrassing you...or me might find it you gotta tell us. Because I hate to think of you up here all on your own worrying about things that shouldn't be worth a second thought.'

'Okay,' Kelly said.

'Okay,' Danny said, 'now how about we go to the pool?'

'Dad I can't. Even I know I can't swim like this,' she said, gesturing vaguely at herself.

'I know,' Dany said, 'but we can still spend the day at the pool. Me and you can relax by the side. How about that?'

'Sounds good,' she said, 'but I don't like that we're not going to be able to get Jesse's hair wet.'

'Oh I'm sure we can devise some way of dunking him,' Danny chuckled. 

Kelly cuddled into his side one more time and then pulled away. Standing up to start collecting some belongings she could take with her to the pool. Danny watched her for a moment and then stood up, leaving her to it.  As he left the room his heart got a little heavier. 

Having a full house was never easy. 

But he always tried his best. 

#My Writing #Danny Tanner #Full House Fic #Family #Loss of a Parent #Parenting #Grief #Dysfunctional Family #Hugs #Requests #Requested Fic #Best of a Bad Situation

[generalluxun]

Record Scratch -A Fanfiction

Author's note: This fic is a gift for @mantabanter I absolutely loved the challenge of writing a path for these two(Chloé and Nino) to shipping. I hope those interested will enjoy the journey as much as I have! A few baselines:

This is not Alya Salt, she is amazing.

They are in their final year of Lyceé, HM is still a thing. *waves vaguely at canon and shrugs*

There will be some chapters with minor 'mature content' (light M on AO3) I'll mark those chapters as they come out. If anyone knows how to mark specific text, I could do that instead. It's not huge swaths of the story.

Full text of the chapter below the cutoff.

AO3 Link for those who would like to read there:

“-no, Nino, Nino, you okay?”

The voice seemed far away. Nino was too far away from his body to place it. A light touch shook him gently though, and with that anchor his spirit found its way back. Marinette, of course Marinette.

Nino looked up from where he sat and gave her a smile.

“Of course, Mar. I’m golden, why wouldn’t I be?”

Marinette gave him a pained smile. “Well, you’re in my seat, for starters.”

That knocked the rest of the world into focus around him. Nino blinked. Civics class, the only class he shared with Marinette now, and he was, in fact, in her seat. He didn’t have an excuse for it, or much memory of how he ended up in it this morning. All he had was a dull ache behind his ribs to explain his lack of coherence.

Marinette’s hand on his shoulder gave a gentle squeeze. “We could switch seats, if you want? At least until things…” She trailed off, her smile becoming more strained and awkward.

Nino balled up the pain. He flashed her another smile. “Nah it’s cool, Mar. I just had a mix in my head this morning on the way in, got me a little dazed. It’s cool. I’m cool.”

Nino grabbed his bag and gave Marinette a thumbs up, before heading to his seat.

It’s just one class, just fifty minutes. It’s no big deal. Things are cool. There’s no reason to be a baby about it. It’s not like-

“Hey there, Deej.”

That voice ripped right through his flimsy excuses; sweet, sincere, concerned, sad, loving, everything. Alya set her bag on the desk beside him. She smiled and the sun came out. She clasped her hands together and it was a prayer. Nino fumbled his notebook onto his desk.

“He-hey, babe-” He cut off the word and gave her an apologetic look.

Alya leaned across her chair, one knee on it. Her hair fell forward over her shoulders in a chestnut cascade he had always marveled at. “It’s okay. I mean, I just did it too. I don’t see why we can’t keep doing it, right? We’re still us.”

Nino nodded, keeping a novel’s worth of thoughts silent in his head. He turned to open his notebook. “Yeah.”

He felt, more than saw, Alya arranging herself at her desk. In his mind’s eye he could picture every motion, matching them to every little sound she made, right down to the ‘tsk’ when she realized she’d put her books back into her bag in the wrong order yet again. Class would be starting soon.

Her voice drifted across to him at a whisper. “Did you have a good weekend?”

Like an hourglass in reverse, all the warm feelings that thinking of her in the moment had generated swung down into a leaden weight in his stomach. “Yeah,” he lied.

“That’s great! We should try to do something this weekend, the group of us.”

Nino could picture it. The weight grew heavier. “Nah, I can’t.” Not entirely a lie.

“Oh, well, soon then?”

Nino pushed, “Yeah, soon, sounds good.”

The teacher walked in. Alya whispered one last thing. “I miss you.”

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

“You’re going to come out with us this weekend, right?” Adrien nudged Nino.

Nino slung his bag onto one shoulder. It was getting easier to lie every time he was asked today. “Nah, dude. I can’t. I have a project. See you tomorrow, though?”

From the way Adrien’s cheerful expression fell, Nino hadn’t done a great job this time. In his defense, he was a bit run down after the other half-dozen invites today.

Adrien put a hand on Nino’s shoulder, in exactly the same way Marinette had. They’re so like each other these days. The thought was a happy one; Nino loved his friends. Then a hundred little ways he and Alya had aped each other over the years rose up and dragged it all back down.

Adrien looked Nino in the eyes. “Don’t shut yourself up. We're here for you. Life’s still good, and you gotta work for the future, right?”

Nino put his hand over Adrien's. “Yeah, dude, I got it.” He gently nudged Adrien’s hand off his shoulder. “I’m cool.”

Adrien paused, but then nodded. He flashed a smile that bounced right off Nino, then stepped back and waved. “Take care, Nino. See you tomorrow.”

Watching Adrien go, Nino stopped suppressing the ache. It grew inside of him, filling him up to his fingers and toes. With it came a numbness and tingling. The sharp cuts, the stings, the wounds, all faded into the background as gray overtook color in the world. He didn’t need to put on a face, he didn’t need to be Nino. He didn’t even need to be.

He was floating in his purgatory, slowly piecing together the steps that would take him home, when a voice with the ability to cut through even the thickest fog reached him. It started off softly.

“-oh hold on, I need to fire off a reply to this.”

Nino was dragged from a memory made on a picnic blanket; laughter and warmth turned upside down into regret and loss. The voice resolved out of the fog into a yellow blob. That blob sharpened slowly into a person. That person resolved into a collège-era nightmare.

Chloé Bourgeois swiped her thumb across her phone screen, then turned her devilish blue eyes on him. “You look hideous.”

If Nino had more energy left, he would have run screaming. Instead he stood stunned, then let life throw whatever this was going to be at him. “Thanks, Chloé. We done now?”

Chloé’s energy was checked, but only for a moment. She gave him a flat stare, then shook her head quickly. She gestured with her phone at him. “I know what your problem is.”

Nino adjusted his bag. “About a hundred and seventy-five CM right now, and blonde.”

She didn’t pick up on it right away. Of course she didn’t. Alya would have.

Eventually the connections clicked through and Chloé’s slack expression curled into a chagrined smirk. “Oh, so you’re a snapping turtle, now? No, dummy. I mean your other problem. The one going on up here.” Chloé stepped in and flicked the brim of Nino’s cap up.

He backpedaled and swatted the air between them. “Hey, you haven’t talked to me in almost a year. Why don’t we keep it that way?”

Instead of being put off, her eyes sparked. Chloé leaned in, closing the distance between them faster than he could retreat. “Ha! I knew it! Yes. I and only I know what you need. You can run around with your little pack of loser-buddies all you like, and you’ll still be like this by the time we graduate. Pathetic. Is that really what you want?”

The combination of her close presence and her verbal assault reduced him to a simple defensive, “No?”

Chloé straightened up out of his space, a smug little smile blossoming on her pink painted lips. “See? Then you really must come with me. I’ll have you sorted out in no time. I have just the thing. Come on!”

She snatched him by the wrist and turned, pulling him after her with surprising strength. Nino stumbled after her for several steps before he regained his balance and braced himself, slewing them to a halt.

Chloé rounded on him, her eyes flashing. Nino winced under that long forgotten sharpness, but remained immobile. Chloé threw his hand away from her and stood tall again, hands on hips. “Make up your mind, turtle soup. Are you coming or not? I don’t ask twice.”

Or even once usually, Nino mused. It was inane. It was Chloé. In all the years he had known her, this was a long accepted truth: No good could come from anything she had planned.

Nino knew what was at home, though. Quiet looks and unasked questions, until it all drove him to shut himself up in his room again until the morning. A night spent staring at music that wouldn’t play, compositions that wouldn’t blend, and beats that lay listless.

He knew what lay at home. The path Chloé offered was a mystery. That unexpected truth drilled a hole in his armor of apathy. He shuffled his feet and decided. “Yeah, I’ll come. Don’t get any ideas, though.”

“Perish,” Chloé drawled.

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

The ride to the hotel was unsettling. Now that she had him, Chloé didn’t seem inclined to actually talk to him. She sat, legs crossed, and scrolled on her phone. The most attention she paid him was when he experimented with the controls on the door. He accidentally slid the partition between them and the driver down part way. He got a disgusted huff as he scrambled to raise it again.

Nino began to imagine himself in a mafia car. The private eye who had gotten too close to the truth. He was being taken up to the penthouse for a little ‘talk.’ He’d have to use all his wits to avoid wearing a pair of cement shoes in the river. Nino glanced at Chloé again. She was the big boss's moll. Rather, that’s what everyone thought. In a twist she would be the big boss herself, running the operation from inside her dupe of a father’s hotel. Nino’s chances of survival were slim. How would he escape?

This fantasy lasted him on the walk through the hotel lobby. The gaudy gold and marble only served to build it all up. He was well and truly lost in a world of excitement and drama as Chloé let him into her suite.

The slanting light of the evening sun bathed the room in yellows as we entered. BeeBee crossed to the windows. Every step of her walk was a poisonous invitation. The roll of her hips, the sway of her hair - she was a venomous creature, but more than one man had succumbed to that bite. Would tonight be my turn?

Nino balked. That line of thinking had gone places. He shook his head and refocused.

She drew the curtains, the better for privacy. Privacy for what? I regretted not bringing my piece. It’s not like me to hurt a lady, but this lady was trouble with a capital T. As she turned, the light still filtering through the curtains threw her features into darkness, just two blue orbs and pink lips in shadow. She fixed me with that sapphire stare and spoke.

“You think you can hide it. Maybe you can, from run of the mill losers, but you can’t hide the truth from me.”

I swallowed. Just what had I gotten myself into? Where was the thrust and parry? Where were the little word games? This dame might just be deadlier than I imagined. I cast about for something, anything, to distract her.

“It’s a nice place ya got here.” I stalled.

It almost worked. She stepped into the light and those eyes sparked from predator to childish delight. She turned, gesturing at the decor in decadent gold and verdant green.

“You like it?”

She froze before I could answer, and that head of silken blond coils turned back to me. Those sapphire eyes narrowed to gleaming blue slits.

“Oh, you’re good.” Ha, no way I could be that lucky. Still I had to play the game.

My mind raced as she crossed towards me. The click of each of her heels upon the hard floor was a gunshot. When would the real one come?

“Why did you bring me up here? If you already knew, why bother to drag me all this way?”

She stopped just out of arm’s reach, hand on hip. Her perfume closed the gap and grabbed me by the throat. She raised one arm to gesture to the other room, and her oversized blazer slipped. The straps of her undershirt presented one bare shoulder, a distraction. One I could ill afford. A jacket that big could hide a weapon, and she was just the woman to use one.

Invitation turned to business. “Some things are better done in private, don’t you think? Away from prying eyes? Now, are you going to come clean, or do we need to do this the hard way?”

I’d made a mistake coming here. Now I just had to get out with my life. All I had was the bag on my shoulder. I could use it; knock her down and make a break. No. Her security would have me before I could make the lobby. I’d ‘fall out a window’ and that’d be the end of Nino Lahiffe, private eye. I had to get her closer. A hostage might not be the most heroic of tactics, but it might just keep me alive. Whatever weapon she was carrying would give me a fighting chance against whoever she sent after me.

“The hard way? I don’t know what you’re talking about. You brought me here. I think the ball’s in your court.”

Her superior smile dropped, I missed it instantly when faced with the glower that took its place. She curled the fingers of her gesturing hand into a slow fist. “I see.”

She took a step closer. I steeled myself. That smile was back, and its confidence had me second guessing. She leaned in close.  My palms were sweaty. There was victory in those eyes. I’d make my move in 3… 2… 1..

She breathed, “Alya.”

The world snapped back into focus. The sweet release of another time and place were torn cruelly away and Nino’s heart punished him for seeking relief. Nervous tension turned into hot, sticky, useless energy. “Wha-what about ah- mm Alya?”

Chloé drew back. Her triumphant smile now a full smirk. “Oh puh-lease. You’ve been walking around like five akumas stacked on top of each other for more than a week now. If Shadowmoth hadn’t graduated to criminals from school kids, you’d have a higher count than me by now. When one of the golden couples breaks up, it's all across the school."

All across the school. There was a reality to those words. A finality that he had kept at arm's length even through everything. The fragile escape of seconds ago was completely obliterated. Nino sagged. "Yeah, so what?"

Chloé scoffed. "So, you. Come on." She turned and walked to the sitting room. 

Nino dropped his bag. He was on autopilot following her. He was crashing after his reprieve and someone pulling and pushing him into place was a familiar feeling, even if the love was absent. 

That thought rolled him down another slope of memories. Alya had always been the’ together’ one, the one who had a plan. Following along was easy and comfortable. Only now, he had no idea what to do with himself. All the advice he was getting wasn’t working.

“You’re sad.” The acerbic voice pierced his fog.

“Yeah.” Autopilot.

“You’re downright miserable.”

“Yeah.”

“She left you.”

Nino swallowed. A minor rebellion brewed, not against Chloé, against reality. “Not left. It’s ah- mutual. It’s like, just a sensible thing for, you know, university.”

He finished in a mumble, staring at his feet. He was trying to remember all the facts and reasons Alya had given him, ones his friends had assured him all made sense. He shuffled his feet and pushed himself to look up. If he could meet Chloé’s gaze, he could be right.

When he did, though, it blasted his feeble defense. She was leaning on a marble counter -Was this room remodeled too? He didn’t have the energy to take note- looking so completely sure of herself that Nino felt embarrassed for protesting.

“Really…” she drawled again, putting a nail in the coffin of his argument. She turned, leaning back against the counter, elbows propped on it. “Are you mad?”

“What? No!” That was an easy declaration. “Why would I be mad? She’s going through the same thing I am right now. We’re still gonna be friends. It’ll work out. After university, who knows? We could get back together.”

Chlé raised an eyebrow. That was all it took; he’d made her counterarguments all on his own. He’d done it a hundred or more times already. Nino looked away. He grimaced, the truth of it threatening to drag him down again.

Chloé cooed, “I can help you.”

Her slouched posture had her blazer pooling around her waist, leaving both shoulders bare and emphasizing what little her lithe physique left her under the shirt. The height she’d grown into made it a long trip up those slender curves to her sharp features. Scenarios in black and white leapt from the pages of detective novels in lurid detail. Nino felt sick. Moreso because a tiny, injured voice buried deep growled, ‘Go ahead.’ He squashed it.

He had a better, smarter, angle on this. “Why?”

Eyes half-lidded, brightened. She laughed and flicked the fingers of one hand. “None of your other little buddies seems to have a clue. I bet they have all the support in the world, don’t they? Cheer up. It’ll work out. You’ll feel better in time. You’re still friends. She still loves you. Years will pass before you know it. You never know what will happen. I’ll bet your lovely little mirror couple even went on about how long and hard their little thing took.”

Each pronouncement had a matching memory in his head, a matching moment, a friendly line, a look, a touch, word for word. Nino felt the prick of a ghostly knifepoint between his shoulders. He wasn’t in a mafioso’s office, but he was still in danger. “Yeah, so? You didn’t answer my question.”

His reaction sparked another laugh. Chloé turned around, propping herself up, leaned over the counter the other way now. Nino kept his eyes up. She traced a finger along the marble to a little concealed switch. “If I know what to do, then I’m better than all of them put together.”

Of course. Years apart, but all the same. The knifepoint faded. Nino clenched his fists. “This is all just some dumb revenge game?”

Something in his voice made her look back over her shoulder at him. He’d expected to catch her out, instead those eyes were bright again. “There it is,” she purred.

Without waiting for an answer she pushed herself off the counter. “Why can’t it be both? You need help. I can do that, and I absolutely get to enjoy being the one who has the answer this time. What does it matter to you, as long as you get what you need?”

She reached back, tapping the switch, and her room transformed. The counter split, opening and retracting. Panels in the walls spun. White Marble was replaced with black metal. Speakers of all sizes lined the walls, surrounding them. Panels near the floor opened to subs. The counter had blossomed into…

Nino’s eyes widened. Professional lust surged. “What kind of a sound system is this?”

“The most expensive one, I’m sure.”

Her smug smile barely registered. Nino had eyes only for the spread before him. Multiple mixing boards, studio monitors, rigs that looked so custom he would have to tinker with them just to be sure. Nino’s fingers twitched. He took a step towards it and when he received no reproach he stepped up to the display, running his hands over the consoles. His mind raced, organizing it all in his head, familiarizing himself with it instinctively.

Amid it all, Chloé whispered close to his ear. “You need to be angry.”

It snapped him back again. Nino had begun to feel like a swimmer struggling against undertow. He turned his head to her. “Angry? I can’t be angry at Alya. I love her. She’s done nothing wrong. I screwed that up once already.”

Chloé tapped a touchscreen set into the display. It was a simplified music access point. All around it were little taped notes and arrows. One of the notes read: ‘Vibration things.’ Nino was pretty sure it was controls for the woofers.

She groused. “I don’t see why you can’t be angry at her. She’s such a-” Chloé cut herself off, waving a hand. “Whatever. You don’t need to be angry at her. Just, be angry!”

Nino’s eyes followed her hands, but she was moving too quickly, not even letting screens load. “I don’t want to be-”

Hard rock swallowed his reply. Two riffs in, Chloé jabbed a set of sliders, pushing them all the way to the top without restraint. The speakers roared guttural growls. Notes were tortured beyond music into painful waves of violent sound. Nino clapped his hands over his ears, but not before something within him responded to the cacophony. It tickled his joints and rumbled a warning.

He looked back to Chloé and received another shock. She was hunched over the console, in the backlit glow her face was flushed and contorted. Her mouth was open but what she was saying, screaming, was lost in the storm. There were lyrics- words in the music someplace, but they were overrun.

Nino reached for the controls. Chloé turned to him, feral light shining in her eyes. She hit another set of sliders, and the subwoofers exploded across the overlapping waves. They hit him with a physical force. Nino staggered, each pulsating throb found an echo within. He squeezed it down, falling to one knee. He wasn't sure what was happening, but he knew, more than anything, he couldn't let what was rising meet what was pounding on the gates.

"Chloé!" Nino bellowed. The woofers ate his voice.

The beat slammed him again and again. It was shaking something loose; a crust of blackened ash clinging to his bones. Flashes, Alya, smiling, laughing, wonderful, gone. Nino pushed back. Shelter! He could protect… he didn't know. He could protect… himself. He just had to hold out.

The silence, when it came, was deafening. Nino was shaking. His brain struggled to unscramble itself. He gulped for air, pushing himself up.

The other sound in the room registered - panting. 

Chloé was supporting herself on the console. She was smiling, red-faced. Most strikingly, she wore a sheen of sweat and wasn’t freaking out about it. She laughed, shook her head, and laughed again before standing and wobbling drunkenly. “Coward.”

Nino shook his head, trying to chase the ringing out of his ears and the tremors out of his limbs. It felt like something had cracked inside of him. “You’re crazy.”

Chloé reordered herself in record time. Hair touched up, blazer straightened, and expression molded back into her far more familiar mask. “Well, yes, but that’s beside the point, isn’t it? I’m right. You’ll see eventually.”

Nino sniffed. “You don’t know me.” It rang petulant to his own ears.

“I know anger. We both know that, don’t we?” she smirked. “You had it all right there, all you had to do was let it out. You can’t hide what it did to you.”

Nino crossed his arms. “Made my teeth chatter and probably gave me tinnitus,” he grumbled. “That’s about it.”

Chloé stepped up to him again, perfume, presence, person. She raised a hand and Nino braced, but it was the lightest of tickle-touches as she lifted moisture from his cheek. The act drew the sensation to the forefront. The two streaks he hadn’t even felt amid the chaos painted themselves overtop of everything else.

Chloé held the drop of moisture on the end of her fingertip. “When are you going to let yourself be angry?”

A rumble inside answered. Something pushed at the cracks. Nino averted his gaze. I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to- “I- look. I don’t need to be angry, I don’t want to be angry. This isn’t about being angry. Sorry to disappoint you, Chloé, but you’re still just as wrong now as you always were. This is about me and Alya, and no one else.”

“Of course.” The words were ice in the air.

Chloé turned away from him, and he could breathe again. She crossed the room to the shrouded windows. Nino raised his head to follow her with his eyes. She kept her back to him and waved over one shoulder.

“Off with you, then. There’s nothing for you here, I suppose.”

That’s it? Nino felt oddly cheated. There should be a fight, right? Chloé didn’t just take getting told off, especially not by him.

He reached out toward her back, but never took the accompanying steps. The rumble threatened again and he snatched his hand back. “Yeah, umm… thanks for trying, I guess.”

Another hand wave was all he got, and an exaggerated rise and fall of her shoulders in a huff. Nino took the escape, and ducked back to the entryway. He grabbed his bag, and bolted from the room. Too worked up to wait, he took the stairs three at a time on the way down.

He didn’t stop running until he was all the way home and  in his room. On the other side of the door, Chris’s ‘Yo, bro, what’s up?’ was safely ignored. 

Nino dropped his bag and sagged into his desk chair. His heart was still racing, and he couldn’t blame it entirely on the run. It was still there, clinging to his bones, that crust of blackened ash. He could feel the cracks. He could feel something oozing.

He reached for his phone-

No. Who could he talk to? Who would know what to do? Pep talks, invites, and hugs, when what he needed was…

Nino shook his head to kill those thoughts. He wheeled himself over and scrambled on his shelf for- there it was. He pulled the orange-bound album out and flipped through it by the light of his window and the evening stars. Pictures in shadow, memories of her. Happy times recorded forever were a mortar in the cracks.

I’ll be fine. It’s fine. I love Alya. She’s right. This is for the best.

#DJBling #miraculous ladybug #mlb fanfic #chloe bourgeois #nino lahiffe #Nino PoV #chloe redemption #alya cesaire #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #Minor Adrienette

[wubbgang]

Wubbgang Story Masterpost

i’ve been writing a ton of fics about these guys lately, so I figured I’d just post em all in one place because why not!

AO3 series page can be found here!

Experimental (complete, oneshot) - Zeed and Frozz mess around with a breeding structure (Greebo’s origin story, though it only appears in egg form here)

Muted (in progress) - The main story, mostly featuring Deej and Bebop alongside their friends.

wubbgang group chat (complete?, kind of just a shitpost) - Zeed attempts to make a group chat for the entire cast, which doesn’t exactly go as planned.

(NEW as of 1/16/23:) Starfall (may continue in the future, oneshot) - Alva is recruited to help revive the fallen Celestials.

#wubbox #my singing monsters #epic wubbox #rare wubbox #msm oc #fanfic

[djchika]

Title: aka H_ngman (for @ooktaec)

Tags: Roommates AU, Smex Worker Jake Seresin, Angry and Depressed Bradley Bradshaw, Jake definitely makes Bradley feel better, nudge nudge wink wink

Summary:

All Bradley wanted was a little bit of noise to cancel out the deafening quiet of his suddenly empty childhood home. When Tash suggested a roommate a desperate Bradley latched on to the idea.

Out of all the applicants he got, Jake wouldn’t have been his first choice, with his blinding smiles and an ego the size of his home state, but Jake was leagues better than the bug aficionado or the dude who Tash gauged had a 96% chance of murdering Bradley in his sleep.

Besides Jake worked nights at home so the sound of someone moving around helped lull Bradley into sleep.

It was a pretty normal roommate situation, until Jake accidentally pops off the thing covering the vent that connected their bedrooms and suddenly Bradley knew in surround-sound clarity what it was that Jake did for a living.

(send me more tropes in my askbox!)

#hangster #jake seresin #bradley bradshaw #top gun maverick #hangster aus #sereshaw #film: tgm #deej's hangster aus #deej writes hangster

[fratboykate]

Did you write DJ’s death? Like Kate’s reaction or something? Because I can’t remember if you’ve wrote about it before or not.

Kate sits in her office working. Her cellphone rings. It's DJ. Kate picks up.

"Hey. What's up?"

Kate answers animatedly. She's genuinely excited to take the call. In the past year and a half, they've gone from the tension that had developed between them since DJ fell down the drug hole and had actually become friends. DJ was swinging back and forth between periods of sobriety, but, as always, Kate was there for everything regardless of how ugly it got. Kate's been single-handedly supporting DJ after their parents also cut him off. The way she sees it, it's temporary. Just until he kicks this thing for good and can get back on his feet. She'd rather take on that responsibility than leave him to fend for himself and possibly end up homeless.

DJ's been clean for seven weeks now and Kate couldn't be prouder. It's the longest he's gone all year.

Kate groans and brings her palm to her forehead.

"How much?...For fuck's sake Deej..." Kate sighs. "Are you at...Okay. Give me like an hour."

Kate ends the call and hastily starts packing her things. She exits the office and addresses her assistant.

"I'm out for the rest of the day. Family thing."

"You have that 3 PM with..."

"Cancel it."

Kate tells her firmly as she walks away.

---

After a stop at the bank, a long train ride from her office in Brooklyn to the Bronx, and a fifteen-minute walk Kate arrives at a place that's become quite familiar. It's the bar she's picked DJ up from many times in the last year. 

Kate texts him when she's outside. Less than two minutes later, he emerges with a black eye and jittery energy radiating off him.

"You have it?"

"Fuck. Did you not tell them I was coming?"

"I did. I did. It's nothing."

"It's a whole fucking black eye. It's something."

"Just give it to me."

Kate digs into her bag and produces an envelope full of money before handing it to her brother.

"Last time, dude. This is the last fucking time, Derek."

"I hate it when you call me that."

DJ takes the envelope and disappears back inside the bar. Moments later, he emerges. He grabs Kate by the arm and rushes them off in a hurry. Kate brings them to a stop.

"Show me."

"I have nothing."

Kate plants her feet on the ground and won't move.

"Dude...show me."

DJ groans and stops, hastily pulling out things from his pockets and apprehensively looking back toward the bar.

"Nothing. I got nothing."

"Jacket."

DJ does the same thing with each of his jacket pockets. There's nothing concerning there either.

"Wallet."

DJ antsily looks behind them yet again.

"I told you I got nothing! Let's fucking go!"

Kate reaches behind him and into DJ’s pants back pocket. She tugs his wallet out. DJ immediately attempts to wrestle it out of her hand. Kate uses her martial arts skills and lays him on the ground, where he lands with a thud. She opens the wallet and, sure enough, a baggie is tucked inside the billfold part.

"You're something else, dude."

Kate grabs the drugs, throws the wallet down at him, and starts to walk. DJ rushes to his feet and chases after her.

"It's just to help with the comedown. That's it. You know how fucked up it is to do it cold turkey. Give it back."

"I'm not giving you shit."

"You can watch. See that I'm not doing it to get fucked. Just to help get off it again. Come on."

"I'm not gonna fucking watch you get high. Fuck is wrong with you?"

Undeterred, Kate keeps walking. When he realizes Kate isn't going to return it to him willingly, DJ desperately reaches for her and tries to rip the bag out of her bunched-up fist. In a second, Kate slams him onto the concrete again. People around them turn to stare in disbelief.

"If you wanna get your ass kicked, touch me again."

Kate looks down at him, fury seeping out of her eyes. She begins to walk again.

"I need it."

DJ chases after her once more.

"Find someone else to fund your habit then cuz I'm done, dude." Kate stops to turn to him. "You were doing so fucking good. What the fuck, man?"

"It was a mistake. I fucked up. I'm sorry."

"Mistake. Right. You came all the way down here and just tripped on a syringe by accident."

"You're a fucking bitch."

"Find another bitch to pay for your life then. No more rent. No more bills. No more nothing. I'm done. Figure your shit out and I'll be right there, but for now, I'm done. I'm done."

"I fucking hate you."

"And I hate what you turned my brother into."

"You think you're so much better than me, but you're not. Go fuck yourself, Katie."

"You have the apartment 'til the end of the month. Or figure out your rent. I'm not paying another cent on it. And don't fucking call Suze for money. I will whoop your fucking ass into next century if you bring her into this. When you're ready to get clean again, let me know. That I'll pay for."

Kate turns and walks away again.

"I won't call you!"

Kate keeps marching on in silence. A few steps further, she walks atop some bar grating and drops the baggie while stepping over it. The drugs disappear through one of the slots and into the darkness of the NYC sewage system.

---

Three days later.

Yelena sits by the lake at the Commons with a book in her hand and laptop on her thighs. Her phone rings. Susan's photo is on the screen. Yelena reaches for it with a smile on her face.

"Hey, Susie."

"Yel..."

It's immediately apparent that sixteen-year-old Susan is sobbing.

"What happened?"

"Is Kate with you?"

"No. She was supposed to be here this week but got stuck at work. She's not here until next week now. What's going on?"

"You need to tell her."

Yelena becomes more agitated. She's never heard Susan like this.

"Tell her what, sweetheart? Talk to me."

"Mom. She just got a call. DJ..."

Susan pauses and breaks down crying. After a few beats of thinking, it dawns on Yelena.

"No. Suze..." Susan sobs harder. "No. No." Yelena shoves all her stuff into her bag. "I'm on my way, okay?"

Susan simply keeps crying on the other end. Yelena heads straight for South Station.

---

The fastest bus or train doesn't leave for half an hour after arriving at South Station and she still has a five-hour ride to Penn Station. Yelena refrains from texting Kate. If Kate knew, she would've gotten a call already. This isn't something that can be done over the phone.

Once she reaches the city, Yelena rushes over to the apartment.

---

The sun is down by the time Yelena swings the door open.

Kate stands in the kitchen and knits her brow when she hears the door unexpectedly open.

"Hello???" She pops her head out into the hallway and she sees her wife. Her face instantly lights up. "Babe, hi! What are you doing here?" Yelena drops her bag on the floor and runs over to wrap her arms around Kate. Kate reciprocates the sign of affection. That's when she hears Yelena crying. Kate instantly gets worried and pulls back. "What's wrong? Yel, what's wrong?"

Yelena wordlessly grabs Kate’s hand and guides them to the couch. She squeezes Kate's hands and looks up at her.

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

Kate laughs awkwardly.

"Words I don't hear often. At least I wasn't the one who fucked up this time." Yelena looks up at Kate, her eyes puffy and red after crying nonstop for hours. That's when Kate can adequately read the sadness on Yelena's face. "You're scaring me now."

Yelena inhales deeply and prepares to utter the worst words she's ever had to speak.

"DJ passed. Last night. I'm so sorry, love."

Kate laughs at first. It's the only reaction she can have because surely it's a joke. Then grief, anger, and disbelief collide full speed into her chest all at once.

"Fuck that. Don't joke around like that. That's fucked up, Yel."

"Your mom got the call earlier today and Suze called me."

"No." Kate shakes her head. "No."

Kate rapidly stands, speedwalks to the door, grabs her keys, and exits. She doesn't even think about changing out of her basketball shorts and her wife beater. Yelena barely has time to catch up with the taller woman as she steps out into the hallway.

"Kate. Kate. Give me the keys." Yelena tries to reach for them. Kate forcefully yanks her hand away when she feels Yelena's hand around her keychain. "You can't drive like this."

Kate walks past the elevator and moves to the stairs. They're faster. She runs down to the garage at double-time speed. Yelena struggles to stay on her tail.

They reach the garage and Yelena tries to cut her wife off again.

"Give me the keys." Undeterred, Kate reaches the car and tries to enter the vehicle. Yelena stands between Kate and the door. "Let me drive...Hand over the keys, Katherine."

Kate clenches her jaw and steps back while glaring at Yelena. After a beat, Kate stomps around the car, heading to the passenger side. Yelena jumps into the car, starts the engine, and reverses as soon as Kate is in her seat.

---

After a long drive where Kate doesn’t utter a single word despite how hard Yelena tries to gauge how she’s feeling, Kate finds herself storming into Eleanor's penthouse. She comes across her mother stoically pacing around the living room, nursing a glass of wine.

"You couldn't fucking call me?! You let me be in the dark for hours?!" Kate walks up to Eleanor, presses her palms flat against her shoulders, and forcefully shoves her. "You couldn't call me?!" Kate digs her fingers into the older brunette's shoulders anew, forcing her backward. "Why the fuck would you do that?! Why would no one fucking pick up the phone and call me?!"

Yelena rushes up and lodges her body between them.

"Kate. Stop." Kate tries to move forward again and Yelena is the one who is doing the shoving now. "Katherine. Don't."

"Where is he? WHERE IS HE?!" At that moment, Kate feels Susan slam into her, but she steps back from Susan too and glares at her. "You didn't call me. You didn't fucking call me either."

"I told her not to, Kate." Yelena lies. "You didn't need to hear that over the phone."

Kate stares at the three women in disbelief.

"Screw all of you." Kate takes a step back from both Yelena and Susan. "Where is he?"

"Your father is dealing with it."

"'Dealing with it?'" Kate scoffs while imitating Eleanor. "'It?' That's your son! Not an 'it'. But I guess it fits. You never gave a fuck about him. About any of us."

"You've always had a penchant for the theatrics, Katherine."

"And you've always been a pitiful excuse for a mother. He needed you. He fucking needed you."

"You know nothing."

Eleanor stares at Kate defiantly.

"If it weren't for me, he would've been fuck knows where."

"As far as I know, you cut him off too. Just this week. You're no better than us, it seems."

When Kate tries to move toward her again, Yelena digs her feet on the floor and stops her wife from moving any closer to her mother-in-law.

"Kate. Come on. Let's go into the kitchen. Come on."

Yelena tries to pull her wife away.

"You talked to him?"

"He showed up yesterday, completely intoxicated and begging for money. As usual. Said you tossed him to the streets."

"That's not what fucking happened! That's not what happened. He'd never say that. He knew I would never. He knew that."

"He obviously didn't."

"Eleanor..."

Yelena grits through her teeth.

"He said everyone had abandoned him."

"Bullshit! He knew I was there. He knew Suze was there." Kate pauses then a dreadful thought crosses her mind. "Did you give him money?"

"What was I supposed to do? He wouldn't leave unless I did."

"CALL ME! You call me and I come get him! You don't give him cash if he's using again. What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"I didn't give him cash. I wrote him a check."

"Great time to be arguing about semantics, mom. The rule was we don't give him money if he's not clean. We get him what he needs but never cash. This is your fault!"

"Kate. Move."

Yelena tries to push Kate out of the living room once again.

"You knew he was using again, didn't you? And you left him alone. Sounds to me like if there's anyone to blame, it's you, Katherine."

Kate lunges forward. Both Yelena and Susan step in front of her and create a physical barrier between the two.

"Both of you, shut up." Yelena speaks firmly while addressing Kate and Eleanor. "This is not the time." Yelena turns to Kate. "You...kitchen...NOW."

Yelena grabs Kate's hand and drags her away.

---

The moment they enter the expansive kitchen, Kate rips her hand away from Yelena's. She starts to pace furiously. Unexpectedly, she stops and starts to slam her closed fist full force against one of the upper cabinets.

"Hey. Hey! HEY!"

Kate’s fist makes contact with the wood half a dozen times before Yelena can reach her.

"STOP IT!" Yelena reaches for Kate's arm and it fails to halt the onslaught the first time but she successfully stops Kate's arm from moving forward the second time. "Cut it out."

By the time Yelena brings Kate's hand into hers, blood has started to run down her knuckles. Yelena pulls her wife's arm in the direction of the sink, silently hoping Kate will put up no resistance. She doesn't.

Yelena lets the water run while her fingers hover under the stream as she waits for the liquid to warm up. When it starts to pour at the right temperature, she places Kate's hand under the water and allows it to wash the blood away. The knuckles are red and battered.

Kate hisses when the water hits her knuckles. After a few long beats of Yelena gently caressing Kate's knuckles with her thumb, Kate speaks.

"He knew I wouldn't abandon him." 

Kate sounds certain at first, but then her façade crumbles. Yelena rushes to cup her wife's face in her drenched hands. They start talking over each other.

"You did EVERYTHING you could, Kate."

"He knew...right?" Kate's blue eyes suddenly overflow with tears. "He knew? He did know, right?"

Yelena nods with certainty.

"He was sick."

Kate's breath becomes shallow.

"Was this me? Did I do it? Did I...I told him..."

Yelena leans forward and kisses Kate, forcing her to stop talking and overthinking. Yelena’s lips are perpetually capable of grounding Kate in moments of distress. After a beat, Yelena pulls back and finds tears rushing out of Kate's eyes.

"He knew you loved him, but he was sick and his disease finally got the better of him. His disease and drugs killed him. Not you, okay? Not you."

"Promise me."

"This isn't your fault."

The crushing weight of what happened and what she just lost finally hits Kate. She crumbles and Yelena is right there to catch her. Both literally and metaphorically.

#this is like the 32 cent version #idk...its BLEH...im in a weird ass mood and i needed to get back to writing SOMETHING #figured id give this one a shot since its at the top of my drafts #lets see if this bullshit even posts #if it doesn't y'all are fucked cuz im not formatting this again lol #itll go to the grave with me hahaha #kyfbau #anonymous #answers #kyfbaup

[nomadjones]

Birth name: Unknown.

Full Name: Dallas Jones.

Nicknames: DJ, Deej, Tex.

Pronouns and Gender: He/Him, Cis Man.

Birthday: Unknown.

Age: 28.

Birth place: Dallas, Texas.

How long have they been in town?: Brief stint in 2017, current day he has been living here for a year.

Sexuality: Bisexual.

Housing: Ocean Crest Apartments.

Occupation: Probationary firefighter with Aurora Bay FD.

Family: Unknown.

tw child abandonment, violence, child abuse // @aurorabayaesthetic

BIO.

he was born in dallas, texas.

and was dropped off at a firestation as a baby which made state news and they referred to him throughout the search for his birth parents as 'baby dallas'

they estimated he was about a week old 

he was nearly adopted twice, once as a baby and then again at six years old, but both fell through for different reasons 

the name dallas just kind of stuck 

has bounced around different kinds of foster homes, predominantly in texas in his earlier years but as a teen he was a bit of a runaway so sometimes he’d end up back in the system in whatever state he had gotten to

has a bit of a temper which made him a bit of a write off to be adopted because he came with a laundry list of issues and once he hit 8 he gave up on the idea of a forever family and stopped trying in that regard 

his behavioural issues haven't lessened much in adulthood, though he at least tries to think things through these days

as soon as he hit 18 and was out of the system he hit the road and did odd jobs and just travelled around the country

first hit aurora bay when he was 21 and only stayed for a few months. it was initially supposed to be a brief beach weekend, but he met a girl who held his interest and tried to stick around for her. it ended up going up in flames, like most things in his life

continued to live a transient life until he found himself drawn to aurora bay once again five years later, and he's once again trying to settle here

did some bar work when he first returned, before deciding to feel out potentially becoming a firefighter after a talk with a local one at the bar he was working a shift at hot his interest

he very nearly cut his career in it short 8 months ago when he got into a particularly nasty bar fight which almost got him jail time, he narrowly avoided it but was warned that would be his last chance

attends court mandated anger management because of it

currently a probie with ABFD

(SORTA) FUN FACTS.

he doesn’t have an actual birthday. the date he was found is what’s on everything official but because he was around a week old when he was found, all he knows for certain is his birthday is somewhere around the second week of june 

has an extensive criminal record of misdemeanours and other offences for fighting, disturbing the peace, theft, criminal damage criminal mischief

has suffered from recurring nightmares since he was young due to a three month stint in a particularly bad foster home. doesn't like to talk about it

big soccer fan. prefers to play midfield when playing soccer but can play defence or goalie at a push 

has a few scars on his body from fights and some minor burns on his body from work

CURRENT CONNECTIONS.

baby daddy to @christinaxwagner's son colton.

foster care protector / something undefinable of @thewrenxharlow

bestest broski of @chascwilliams

roomie of @trcvis

enemy of @helenasoarcs

ex-boyfriend / current colleague of @firefighterrojas

co-worker of @hcnter

patron of / looks up to @greengideon

friend of / personal smoke alarm warden to @laureljreyes

friend of / soon to be co-soccer coach wth @noah-atwood

roof buddies / friend of @ambivalenceshefelt

friend of / hype man to @sagexgrayson

wrangler of @maura-cortes

previous very short term foster sib of @cricketcampbell

SPECIFIC WANTED CONNECTIONS.

his pre-aurora bay life is very fluid atm timeline wise so any non-natives who want to have crossed paths with him before i’m incredibly down to clown with that 

a roommate!! hello!!!!

friends of all varieties 

folks who don’t like cause he doesn’t know when to back down from literally anything 

exes, flings, one night stands etc etc that whole shibang 

FIRE FAM Y’ALL.. gimme some 

idk it’s open season lets go GSHJSK 

GENERIC WANTED CONNECTIONS.

connections wise he’s pretty much an open book right now, but some baseline ideas that can be springboarded off are:

friendly.

a best friend / ride or dies / close friends / childhood friends / pseudo-siblings / friends / drunk friends / new friends / former roommate / people he knew from texas / people he met while on the road / people from the foster system he was close to.

romantic

flirtationship / friends with benefits / one time hook ups / tinder matches / unrequited crush (can be either way) / exes from high school / exes from his early teens / exes on good terms.

antagonistic.

enemies / former (best) friends / exes on bad terms / frenemies / rivals / negative influence / people he's gotten into physical altercations with.

#aurorabay.intro #intro. #child abandonment tw #child abuse tw #violence tw

[monkeymanproductions]

We've got an announcement in the Moonbase Theta, Out feed today reminding you of the bonus episodes to come (starting two weeks from today) - and soliciting questions from YOU for our last ever Q&A Special!

This is the time! The story is told; what did you still want to know? About the plot, the characters, the background; any writing questions for Deej, sound design questions for Cass, anything for Tina about being stuck in a hole for a big chunk of Season 4! We want to know! And to give you ... well, whatever answers we can. Remember, anything Deej makes up on the fly is automatically canon!

Please submit your questions through any of our social media or by emailing [email protected] by October 29th! (Which is also the day you'll start hearing those bonuses!)

Take care, be good to each other, and keep up the fight. <3

#moonbase theta out #audio drama #audio fiction #monkeyman productions #podcasts #sci fi podcast

[siampiner]

Microsoft maze screensaver lego

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Were it to be a smattering of a dozen or so tests of one's ability, it might be justified, but instead what little fun that's there quickly dries up long before the sticker shock can fully set in. Developer: Justin Le Clair Cost: 400 MSP I really like the idea of what Game Training is attempting, but charging 400 Points for what amounts to a DDR biter and only a DDR biter smacks of a rip-off. 1: Dexterity Dex Dex Revolution? Not Quite. For me, though, a clock that cycles a bunch of scenery and offers very, very little in the way of interactivity just doesn't get my motor runnin', sorry. Gallery: Landscapes Ripoff: (Hopefully) Royalty-Free Photos Developer: Deej Cost: 200 MSP Is slapping together a bunch of stock photos and layering on cheap filters like saturation, emboss, black and white, faked HDR and so on worth 200 Points to you? Sweet, this'll do the trick nicely. Unfortunately, that doesn't mean it's quite worth scooping up as far as I'm concerned, but hey, that's what demos are for, no? Write your own review. That doesn't mean the game is fun, exactly (the AI seems to be able to move it's "finger" paddle faster than you can?), but I'll give 'em props for at least dressing up the game enough to make it obvious there was some effort involved. Write your own review.Įye-Ball Give 'Em The Finger Developer: Von Chrono Cost: 200 MSP I've gotta give Von Chrono some credit he's essentially made yet another Pong clone that doesn't feel like it's a big rip-off. Give it a shot if you're looking for something to scratch that Rubick's Cube fix (and yes, I'm well aware of the fact that I poo-pooed a Rubick's Cube clone, this is just more fun to me for some reason). I just know that Raccoon456 has made a cheap, fun little puzzle game. RotorMania I-I-I-I-I Want the Knife! Developer: Raccoon456 Cost: 200 MSP I wish I could say I knew why I found the simple act of rotating colored squares around a tube to create columns of one color so entertaining, but I can't. It's really only playable as a local multiplayer game, so if you don't have some friends and a few controllers, you won't get much out of the game, but if you do, by all means, check this one out. Surprisingly, the idea really does work, lightly penalizing you for not paying attention to what's been revealed on the board thus far. Meet UR Match What R U waiting 4? Developer: Georges Dad Cost: 200 MSP Take the classic pair matching game of Memory, turn missed matches into a side game of hangman and throw in a bunch of power-ups to help mix up the four player mode (that can use the Scene It controllers, by the way) and you have Meet UR Match. Arguably the most easy-to-use, simple, powerful tool to making XNA games just hit, and if you've ever wanted to dabble in making something from scratch, you can do it for the equivalent of five bucks.

#Microsoft maze screensaver lego download#

Well stop reading this and go download it. or you just like the idea of indie games. Developer: MSR Kodu Cost: 400 MSP If you're reading this feature, then you probably make games and you're just waiting to either tear me a new one in the comments or praise my good taste in liking your stuff. Kodu Game Lab The next-gen forge for all your stupid rumble massagers. It might not look like much, but click the above image and you'll see why we were so taken with it. Everyone go grab at least the demo, you'll see what I mean. Fortunately for us, toddm is neither greedy nor stingy with offering up his work in progress and the result is an impressively fun little game for just 200 Points. It's incredibly simple in look and execution, but fortunately it controls beautifully and it paves the way for what could very easily be a casual-friendly retail product with just a bit more oomph in the visuals department. Gravity Bounce Bounce With Me Developer: toddm Cost: 200 MSP Well, Gravity Bounce isn't going to win any presentation awards. The menus, the "story," the dialogue, and even the process of switching the color of your "soul" is all done in a way that gives Bennu a damned impressive first impression. Bennu That Ol' Ball 'N Chain Developer: AlMra Cost: 400 MSP Though the controls for attaching a chain to like-colored blocks and swinging around to touch and clear them from a level might feel a little clunky, nearly everything else about Bennu is surprisingly polished and impressively executed.

#Microsoft maze screensaver lego