#the lifeforce in my blood it really is

[lighteyed]

driving miss mayfield

steve harrington x fem mayfield!reader

[5.8k] steve gives you driving lessons, max gives you heat, you give yourself no time to daydream.

disclaimer- no mention of blood relation to max, no physical descriptors of reader, they are sisters in any way you want them to be.

     “What do you mean you don’t know how to drive?” The disbelief in his words is almost as emphatic as the annoyance in yours, but he seems to be more disbelieving than you are annoyed at him, who could ever really be annoyed at him, so you let Steve gape at you and blink rapidly instead of telling him to mind his business.

   You slurp down the rest of your soda from the general store in his passenger seat, shrugging, fighting to push down that urge to snap. Mayfield girls, you, Max, your mother when she wasn’t bogged down by a soul-sucking man-leech draining her lifeforce from her right before your eyes, had a less than lovely temper most of the time, and you tried very  hard to keep it contained, especially around people who didn’t deserve it. It just felt like a ridiculous question. “I mean, why do you think I’m stuck drivin’ with Billy half the time? You think I get in that car willingly? You think Max gets in that car willingly?”  You shake your head. “No way. If I had a license I would’ve been, like, halfway back to California the second you people started dragging me and Max into your science fiction monster crap.”

    “As if she woulda let you,” Steve scoffs with a similar head shake, a lock of his hair falling nicely into place in the middle of his forehead. He swipes at it quickly. He has this ridiculous urge to never be anything less than perfect in front of you, you, who is perfect without effort, leading him to put even more effort into holding up this front for himself. “Besides, you’d miss this pretty face, right?” He points to himself, smiles, and waits for you to laugh. You do. It makes his heart constrict.

   “Think you’d miss my pretty face, actually,” you snort, shoving your now empty shake in the cupholder.

    “Yeah, I would,” he teases, just a little, just enough to make further attempts at breaking all that ice you’ve got protecting you, and he swears, he sees it crack the slightest amount, even though you don’t answer. You smile and stare down at your hands in your lap, twisting a mood ring around your finger and making sure you don’t look at him. He’ll take what he can get. “Well, anyhow,” he says, dramatically blowing air out of his mouth, the subject change swift and, in his opinion, a flawless execution, “I can’t in good conscience let you keep driving with him.”

    “You already drive me and Max and all her friends everywhere, you don’t have to do anything else.” You don’t like being indebted to anyone. Even if it’s Steve, who insists on picking you up for school in the mornings and dropping you off in the afternoons and, if he’s free, taking you anywhere else you need to go. And he usually is free, because you, and the group of middle schoolers (almost high schoolers, to be fair) he’s adopted since he protected them from Billy and the Demodogs and the whole Mind Flayer debacle (you’re still fuzzy on the details, honestly) a few months ago,  are his only friends nowadays, so it’s not like his schedule is packed and there’s no room to fit you in there. There’s more than enough room. If there wasn’t, he’d make it so. You both knew that.

    “I love driving you,” he insists. “But the thing is, my dad’s cutting me off.”

    “He’s what?”

    “Like, you know, he’s gonna stop paying for my shit. I’m not goin’ to college and he thinks I’m a useless sack of nothing-“

   “You are not a useless sack of nothing-“

   “You tell that to him-“

   “Take me there right now and I will-“

    “Alright, alright, easy.” As much as he’d love to see you go toe to toe with his dad, and you’d be able to, he’s sure, he doesn’t want to talk about it any further than the basic facts of the situation. He’s not going to college therefore his dad has no reason to pay for anything he does anymore. His car insurance is his responsibility now, anything else he needs is up to him to to get, food, clothes, gas, if he has to go to the hospital he’s sure his dad would shove the medical bills onto him, too. He was like that, unfortunately for Steve. But it was one thing he could relate to you on. You had him slightly beat, though. You had two dads to complain about, both terrible in their own ways. Sam Mayfield: emotionally distant, didn’t bother to call, didn’t ask you to visit, too busy when you lived with him to spend any time with you anyway. And then, of course, there was Neil Hargrove: controlling, abusive, cold Neil Hargrove. How he’d charmed your mother into marrying him was a mystery to you and to Max, but you supposed, for as much as you loved her on principle because she was your mother and you pitied her and looked up to her all the same, she was easily charmed by men. It killed you a little more every time it happened, but this was the first time she’d actually brought him into your family, integrating them together in a way she thought would be seamless, but you and Max despised your stepbrother and he despised you both right back. “Point is, I’m gonna have to get a job, probably at that new mall they’re opening up-“

   “Oh the horror-“ you feign a hand over your forehead and slump back in your seat- “Rich pretty boy Steve Harrington doing labor, at the fancy new mall, with those soft delicate hands of yours, whatever will you do-“

   “Shut it,”  he warns, but there’s a grin on his face anyway. “You just admitted I’m pretty, by the way.” He continues before you can dispute his claims. “I’m not gonna be around as much. So you need your license. Unless you wanna be stuck with Billy yelling in your ear all day long.” He pauses, thinking. “Which might make me kill him. So, actually, unless you want me to murder him in cold blood-”

   “Please? I’m begging at this point,” you joke back.

   “Let me get a word in would you?” He laughs and it sounds like music to you. You keep it to yourself. “I want you to be okay on your own. I don’t want him, y’know, hurting you guys, okay? So you need your license.” His words and his eyes go lovely and soft, all rounded ages, nothing jagged about them, just pure, undulated care and affection.

    It makes you soften, too. You spend a lot of time looking after Max, it hits you hard when someone takes the time to look after you, too. “I don’t know, Steve, I wouldn’t be getting a car right after or anything, my job doesn’t pay enough, and we can just take the bus or something. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

   ‘I’m teaching you to drive, and you can take my car wherever you need to go. I’ll come pick you up, we’ll go on over to wherever I’m working, drop me off, and then you go wherever you need to go and come back in time to pick me up.” He says it so easily, as if it’s the most obvious answer to your problems in the world. He doesn’t even fathom how much it means to you.

   “You’d let me drive this?” You brace both your hands on the dashboard, your turn to stare at him in incredulity. His car is nice. It’s beautiful, really, and you don’t know much about cars. It’s classic and shiny and new. And expensive. Expensive being the operative word. Billy’s car is nice, too, and it’s about the only thing he takes care of other than his physique, which he thinks about obsessively, but you don’t think it’s anywhere as nice as Steve’s. Not in your opinion, anyway. The fact that Steve is nicer in personality (and looks, quite frankly) might make you biased, though. “I can’t afford to replace anything if I scratch it or crash it or if it explodes.”

   “You won’t scratch, crash, or explode it, you’re gonna be learning from the best.”

   “And who would that be?”

   “Me, obviously. Welcome to your first driving lesson, I’ll be your instructor, Mr. Harrington, thank you for joining us Miss Mayfield.” He tips an imaginary hat toward you. You’re not sure what driving instructors wear hats but you let him have his fantasy anyway.

   “Right now?” You can barely process what’s happening before he’s popping open his door, lanky legs sliding right out. He raps the hood of the car with his knuckles, ducking his head inside to look at you.

   “Yes, right now, Mayfield, no time like the present.” He comes around to the side you’re on and opens door for you, ushering you out. He holds your hand to help you out of the car, entirely unnecessary but a smooth move nonetheless, and your hands fit together in a way that makes him want to keep them clasped like that forever. He ushers you into the driver’s seat with a quickness that almost gives you whiplash.

    Your hands prop up on the wheel, uneasy. Your palms start to sweat. “I don’t like this,” you tell him. You take your hands off and wipe them on your jeans. They immediately dampen again. You’re afraid of leaving sweat prints all over his wheel and leaving a car-shaped hole in the side of the now abandoned Benny’s Burgers, the parking lot almost empty, save for the car that you are now responsible for. It’s eight o’clock on a school and work night, so naturally no one else was around and Hawkins may as well have been asleep.

   “You haven’t even attempted to drive yet.”

   “My hands keep slipping off the wheel,” you grasp for his hand and press yours against it, raising your eyebrows. “Do you feel the sweat?”

   “Jesus, yeah.” He squeezes your hand with encouragement anyway. “You don’t have to be scared. I’m a much nicer driving teacher than anyone you could hire at the school. You’re in good hands. Great hands. The best ones. Perfect, amazing hands.”

    Your eyes flick down to Steve’s hands. You have to agree. “I don’t even have a permit. You could get in trouble.”

    “By who? Chief Hopper? Officer Callahan?” He nearly cackles at the notion. “You’ll be fine, don’t sweat it.”

    “Bad choice of words.”

    “Enough stalling, let’s get to the lesson.” He claps his hands together. His face retains a serious, focused quality to it. It’s very handsome (he’s always handsome and it kills you a little because you don’t have time to daydream). “Alright, hands here, and here,” he taps the wheel to show you the correct position. He thinks he might die if you connect your hands again. “That’s called the 10 and 2 position.”

    “Why’s it called that?”

    “I don’t know, it just is, doesn’t matter, that’s where they go so you have the best control for making turns and steering.” You do as he says. “Okay, so now, you have to relax.”

    “Girls love hearing that, Steve,” you grind your teeth.

    But your rigidity and discomfort is obvious, especially to you, and you know it can’t be natural to drive all scrunched up and tense like this. “You’ll be fine. You can’t be all stiff if you ever want to get comfortable doing this.”

    “But I’m not comfortable.”

    “Hence why we’re doing this, yeah?’

   “I thought we were doing this so me and Billy don’t strangle each other.”

    “That too. Can’t have my only friend dead. Then I’ll be stuck with all the kids by myself.”

   “Can’t leave Max alone, either,” you say, more to yourself than to him. You think about her most of all. While you spend all this time with Steve, you worry over her all the time. You constantly check in to make sure she doesn’t feel left out. You fret about her being left alone with Billy. She occupies almost all of your thoughts.

   “Never,” he agrees, even if you weren’t talking to him. You give him a thankful smile. His heart almost stops but he clears his throat to snap himself out of it. “Okay, now, let’s turn the key, turn the car back on.”

  “Turning the key,” you nod, licking your lips. You turn the key in the ignition until the engine rumbles to life. The car vibrates in response. You hate it.

   “Clutch pedal down with your left foot,” he says, pointing. You do as he says. “Move this,” he pats the gear stick, “into first gear, right here, left then up.” He watches you carefully, nodding back. “Good, okay, press down on the acceleration with your right foot now, gently,” he adds. He can tell by the furrow in your brow that you hate it. “You’re doing good,” he praises.

  “Yeah, yeah, continue.”

  “Now you gotta lift the clutch until you feel it vibrating, okay, then release the handbrake, keep slowly moving off the clutch until you’re moving with just the acceleration, okay?” He finds the deeply serious expression you’re wearing kind of endearing. “If it stalls we’re gonna start again, but don’t worry about it.”

But you don’t stall. The car moves as it should, with you controlling it, in the empty parking lot by the neighborhood park. “Great, great, almost perfect” he tells you, “we can probably go faster if you wanna try that-“

  “No, we cannot,” you say tightly, your shoulders hunched.

  The laugh he lets out makes your spine tingle. “You have to relax your face, I promise you’ll drive better if you’re not all… scrunched up,” he motions to your shoulder area.

  You try. You roll them back as you keep focusing on the road, trying not to furrow your brows so much. You’ll get a permanent forehead wrinkle at this rate.

   “See, there we go,” Steve reassures. Your let out a little huff, but your face goes placid, still. “Beautiful.” He’s not sure if he means to say it. If he should. He says it anyway.

  You look sideways at him as you drive through the parking lot. You’re driving slow. Slower than slow. You’re practically inching along. “You can’t possibly be flirting with me right now.” It’s not that you don’t like it. You do. It hurts how much you do. If he wasn’t freshly single and you didn’t feel so obligated to focus most of your time on taking care of Max, you’d flirt back. You weren’t new to it or anything. You knew your way around a guy. Even a gorgeous one like Steve. But he was only a few months over Nancy and you saw the grimaces he did when she and Jonathan crossed his path. You weren’t sure if he was over her. Or if Max was comfortable and secure enough here to be a little more independent.

  “I am not,” he scoffs. The blush creeping up his neck onto his cheeks betrays him. You shift your eyes to look at him again but he points, “eyes on the road, by the way.”

  “You were flirting, you just can’t help yourself, can you? King Steve, right?” You snicker, recalling the nickname from when you’d first met him, the one that had been rescinded just as fast. It’s easy to hide the fact that you liked the way he said beautiful, like a caress, like a kiss, behind your banter and snark. Maybe it’s one thing you and Billy could have in common. Everything’s easier when you hide it behind an attitude.

  “I wouldn’t say that stating a fact is… flirting,” he shrugs, flippant. At least, he hopes it appears flippant. You don’t give yourself much time to ponder this.

  “It is when you say it in that voice,” you retort.

  “Huh? What voice?” He balks at that. He does not put on a voice.

  “Like, low and sultry,” you flick some hair away from your eyes. It had been the way he said it, after all.  

     “You think my voice is low and sultry?” His ears practically perk up like a puppy’s. You don’t answer. It’s actually all the answer he needs. “I think you’re the one flirting with me now, Mayfield, not the other way around.”

  You scoff. You are scoffing and he is laughing away. “In your dreams, Harrington.”

  “Every night.” The joke registers with that one but it still makes your stomach clench. Every butterfly in the western hemisphere makes its way into your gut and builds a home there, an uncontrollable influx of new neighbors, fluttering madly, demanding to be seen and known and understood. You understood them, you just didn’t want to. “See, now that, that was flirting,” he says, satisfied at your quiet. “And you sound like your stepbrother when you say my last name like that, by the way. Excellent Billy impression.”

   You’re doing slow, lazy laps around the parking lot at this point, your nerves still present but for entirely different reasons now. “I do not sound like Billy.” You grimace. “And you probably shouldn’t be flirting with anyone when you just got out of a relationship, like, not even four months ago. I don’t think you’re ready to be flirting again.” You, again, are saying it more to yourself than to him. A subtle reminder of the predicament you’re in.  

  “Hence why I’m not flirting,” he informs you.

  “Uh huh,” you say, unconvinced.

 “But if I was-“

“Which you’re not-“

“Which I am not,” he agrees, “how would you feel? Just for, y’know, future reference.” He juts his lip out, wondering.

  “Let’s circle back to that when you’re not still reeling from the Nancy incident.”  

  “Well,” he shifts around in his seat. He wouldn’t say he’s still reeling. Still hurt, sure. But hurt sticks around longer than heartbreak does. You can be hurt by something someone did and not still be heartbroken over them. He wouldn’t say he’s still heart broken. Looking at you, his heart feels very much intact. Nothing broken here, no, definitely not. “That’s why it’s for a hypothetical future reference.”

  “Right, of course,” you slow the car to a stop. “Then I wouldn’t be opposed. Hypothetically.”

  “You wouldn’t?”  

  “I wouldn’t.” But, you remember, suddenly, that it’s not just you that you look out for. “Once Max is all settled, of course.”

   “Settled?”

   “Like, y’know, feeling better about being here.”

    “She’s got a massive group of friends she sees all the time.”

   “I know, but-“

   “You worry about her, I get it,” he places a hand on your knee, very light, not asking for anything. “Who worries about you? You should- you should be happy, too, is that crazy to say?”

   You place your hand over his.  “I’m happy. I’m happy, I promise. I don’t need you to worry about me, I’m okay.”

   “You should do more things for yourself.”

   “Like getting my license,” you gesture to the car.

   “Like getting your license, yeah.” Like going on a date with me. Like letting me show you how serious I am about you.

   “I’m okay how I am.”

   “I’m making it my job to look out for you, y’know.”

   You smile again. Very soft, almost embarrassed. You hated the attention being on you but you had to get used to it, being around him. “Yeah, Steve, I know.”

   He’s diligent in his effort to give you driving lessons. He takes you driving almost every day after school, Max in the backseat if she’s not with her friends, both of them encouraging and kind even when you hit the curb more often than not. You were a good driver, for all intents and purposes, even though your palms still sweat every time you got behind the wheel. It was a gradual comfort process. They were less sweaty than the first time, and that had to count for something. You even get comfortable enough to drive through Main Street, which nearly sends you into a panic and leads to a shouting match between the two of you while you furiously honk your horn at the other people of Hawkins on the road, Steve slumped in his seat to avoid eye contact with everyone, but after that, you’re a pro.

    A few weeks of this pass when he says to you, out of the blue as you drive aimlessly, “So, I set up your road test for you.”

   You’re still not used to this whole looking out for you thing he’s got going on. You almost stop the car short. “Did you really?”

    “I think you’re ready. You’re great, you’ll pass easily.”

    “You think?” You’re typically confident, strong-willed, but sometimes he sees those flickers of insecurity crop up and he attempts to smother that right then and there.

   “For sure,” he nods. “They’ll be begging you to be on the road.”

   “You flatter me.”

   “You deserve it.” His eyes, his smile, trained on you, always, is devastating. Maybe you do. Maybe you do.

    At your dinner table that night, you, Max, your mom, Neil, and Billy, Max does what she should never do in front of Neil or Billy, and that’s open her mouth.

   Billy had been going on about how he was sick of being the chauffeur, even though he really wasn’t anymore, and that if he was going to get a job this summer before college like Neil wanted you two would have to learn to get around on your own, because he can’t be responsible for two people if he also had to be responsible for a job.

   “She’s getting her driver’s license tomorrow,” she jerks her head toward you, a proud, beautiful smile on her face, and you want to drag her by the hair into your shared bedroom to ask why in the world she’d ever tell that to everyone and also give her the biggest hug for the evident pride she takes in the fact that you’re independent and doing things on your own and she looks up to you so, so much. You bite your lip as Neil’s fork scrapes noisily across his plate. “And Steve’s been driving us around anyway, so I don’t know what you’re going on about-“

   You interrupt her with a hard, socked foot coming down on her own. Your eyes go wide and your head tilts in her direction,  a please oh please stop talking expression.

    “Who has been driving you, exactly?” Neil asks, eyebrows raised.

   “My friend from school, it’s no big deal,” you answer, staring down at your plate and then back up at him. His cold gaze is fixated on you.

   “What happened to the agreement we had?” Neil turned his sneer to Billy, rendered speechless by Max’s unexpectedly bold statement. Billy then glares at you, and you really don’t want an argument, so you cut in.

  “It’s only sometimes, like once a week, and he doesn’t drive us to school, he drives us home. Rarely. Rare occasions. I promise.” A lie, flowing easily from your lips, and because Neil thinks you’re a smart, good girl, and his son is always up to no good and lying, he relaxes, and so does Billy, though you’ll get no thanks from him, not now, not ever.

  “Well, who’s been teaching you to drive where you feel ready to take your test?” Neil stretches across the table to get another helping of the meal your mother prepared from the middle of the table.

   “Steve, when we’re both free.” Every day.

   And because Billy can’t let you have anything, because he needs to instantly make you regret ever doing anything nice for him, he says, “I’m not a big fan of this Steve guy.”

   “Hm, and why’s that?” Neil continues eating.

   “It’s a petty high school rivalry,” you interrupt, narrowing your eyes at him.

   “He’s got a reputation with girls, you know. I wouldn’t want to see something bad happen to you.” Billy’s stupid grin eats shit. The feigned care makes your skin crawl.

   “What sort of reputation is that? You shouldn’t be hanging out with that sort of person,” Neil frowns. Again, with that feigned care. It’s not about genuine worry for you. It’s about control. Dominance. You won’t fall for it.

  “It’s all rumors. He had a serious girlfriend for a year. And we’re not together, anyway. He’s my friend.”

   “Guys all want the same thing,” Billy says back.

  “How would you know?” You push, nearly slamming your hands on the table.

   “I’m friends with the basketball team, there’s locker room talk, you get the picture.” He continues smiling in that mocking way of his that makes you want to jump across the dining room and put your fork through his eye.

   “You don’t actually know anything, though, do you, considering you’re not friends with him?”

   “I think I know enough to know that this isn’t the type of person my sister should be associating with-“

   That gets you going most of all, which is giving him exactly what he wants, and you can’t help it. “We are not siblings-“ your chair drags across the floor with a loud screech as you remove yourself from the table, just as Neil is telling you both to settle down.

  “C’mon, honey, sit back down, you can hang out with whoever you want, I’m sure this boy is very nice,” Susan coaxes you gently but you don’t even look at her, too caught up with the fact that it’s all her fault you’re here in this place with these people, these strangers, that you hate so deeply it makes your bones ache.

  “’M done eating, going to my room,” and you don’t care how annoyed it makes Neil that you’ve gotten up before he’s finished eating, which has become practice in this house now, you can’t even celebrate the fact that you’re achieving a milestone, getting your license, God damn it, without it turning into the Billy Hargrove one man show. He makes everything, everything, hurt.

   Max comes in a little while later, her footsteps light and hesitant on the floor. She crawls into your bed even though hers is across the room and she hasn’t slept beside you since your first night here.

   “Are you mad at me?” She asks. Her eyes are big and blue, worried.

   “’Course not.” You smooth her hair back. You’re not mad at her, truly. It’s not her fault Billy ruins everything. “I know you were just trying to get back at him for his complaining. S’not your fault, lovie.”

   “I should’ve known it would turn into that,” she frowns, uneasy. “It always turns into that.”

   “You don’t have to know anything. You should be allowed to say whatever you want to our parents, that’s what they’re there for. Don’t worry your pretty head about it.” You boop her nose with the tip of your finger. You’ve been sulking in your room because of him, not her.

  “Can I ask you something?” You’re face to face with each other, both your heads lying on your pile of pillows, hair fanned out behind you. Her expression is earnest and endearing.

  “Always.”

 “I thought you and Steve were dating already.”

 You hesitate. “That’s not a question.”

  “Okay,” she rolls her eyes. There’s no malice behind it. “Why aren’t you dating?”

  You crinkle your nose, dismissive. “Because, I’m- I’m, like, busy, with stuff, and he’s not over Mike’s sister and I just, I don’t wanna get mixed up with some silly boy.”

   She admires your dismissive attitude toward boys, and it might be why she breaks up with Lucas every other week in exasperation with his boyish faults. She just thinks it’s crazy that you have this attitude when a guy like Steve is the one following you around with shiny looks and dreamy smiles. She’s sure that you’d never deny Steve, who, when she observed you both from the backseat, did everything in his power to make you feel comfortable, safe, secure, was kind to her while also maintaining a brotherly banter, something she thought she was getting when Billy had been introduced to her, was funny, and generous. He was always letting you drive his car and buying you both food and making sure you had a ride somewhere if you needed it. And she drove her and her friends around everywhere even if you weren’t there, too. Steve seemed perfect.

   He was easy on the eyes, too, but it brought a hot flush to Max’s cheeks to admit that, so she never would. 

   “He’s not a silly boy, he’s Steve.”

   “A boy is just a boy no matter who he is, you know that.”

   “Yeah, but,” she huffs, indignant, “he really likes you. I bet he’d go out with you if you asked.”

   “I’m not asking him out, and he doesn’t like me like that. He’s a good friend. And I told you, I’m too busy for him.”

   “Busy with what?” She cries, exasperated. “Busy driving with Steve, busy doing homework with Steve, busy getting dinner with Steve, busy-“

   She’s running out of fingers to write her list on. You grab her hand to stop the count. “I get your point.”

   “You can’t be too busy for someone if you already spend so much time with them, is all I’m saying.” She has a point. You scratch your arm absentmindedly. “What’s the real reason?”

   “What real reason? You’re saying that’s not the real reason?”

  “Definitely not the real reason.”

   “Says who?”

   “Says your best friend.”

   You sigh at her, a loving sound. “Oh, yeah, her.” You run a hand through her hair again. The softness of it soothes you. “I don’t wanna leave you alone.”

    She pokes your cheek. “I’m not alone. I have my friends.”

   “Didn’t you hear that we’re best friends? I can’t leave you in the dust.” It’s more playful than you really feel. You don’t want to burden her by unburdening yourself, relaying all your fears about what would happen if you spent more time with Steve, things like her resenting you, something awful happening between her and Billy, her getting hurt, injured, killed, your brain delved into all sorts of dark, terrible places, and these spiraling thoughts led to one conclusion: you would never, ever, let your focus waver from her. “I take care of you, okay? I don’t have the time to think about anything else. Besides, he might not even be over Nance, remember?”

   “He is. He is over her. I promise,” she insists, placing her hands on your arms. “He looks at you like he’s in love, I’ve seen it!”

   “You don’t know what you’re seeing, babe-“

  “I do.” She shoves herself off your bed, your hand, where it was twined in her hair, falling back onto the covers. You sit up, confused, as she stomps off to her own bed.

  “Are you mad at me right now?” You ask.

   “I’d be happy if you were happy.”

    “Max, stop, I am happy-“

   “Not happy enough. He’s nice. You should just go out with him. Stupid to worry about me all the time.” She flicks off her lamp light and turns away from you toward her wall. You sigh. You think. Your stomach twists itself in a knot you don’t want to think about. Eventually, when her stubbornness about it overrides yours, you turn back toward your own wall and turn out your own light. Your eyes strain from trying not to cry, so eventually, you cave in to that, too.

   Your hands shake at your road test the next day. For a multitude of reasons. You look at Steve differently, with your head tilted toward him like the head of a flower tilts toward the sun, waiting and wanting. You’re running over all the ways it could go wrong. You resign yourself to never doing a thing about it.

    He notices your quiet, so unlike yourself, and attributes it to your nerves about the test. He rubs your shoulders, an attempt to hype you up. “You got this, okay? You’re gonna kill it. You’re gonna be the second best driver in Hawkins.”

   “Lemme guess, you’re the first?” It’s the first smile you’ve cracked all day and he takes it as the victory it is.

   “Well it’s certainly not Billy,” he rolls his eyes. “Seriously, how you feelin’?” He spins you around and the gaze he bores into you is too intense to bear. You look away fervently.

   “Fine, ‘m fine, nervous, but fine, should be good, my driving instructor was excellent.” He beams with pride at that, a blinding flash.

   “World renowned, I heard,” he brags.

   “Let’s see if I pass first.”

   “You will,” he says. Confident, assured. It makes you feel assured in turn.  

   And you do. You pass. By a hair, truth be told, but you pass. It thrills you, clutching the paper declaring your triumph in your fist, walking outside to greet Steve who leans against the hood of his car in his devastating way of his, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he taps his foot in wait. When he sees you come out, he brightens, straightening himself out.

   “What’s the verdict?” He asks.

   You wave the paper around. “I passed!” You can’t fake it for a second, your joy at this little bit of freedom absolutely inescapable. He lets out a loud, thrilled whoop for you, and his joy brings you even more of it. He picks you up off the ground and spins you in a circle, and when you’re back on the sidewalk, steady, he envelopes you in a deep, encompassing hug.

  When he hugs, his whole body goes into it, if that makes any sense. He throws his all into it. There’s no hesitancy, no timidity, he’s not ashamed of it in the slightest. He hugs you, hard. He’s that proud. And he likes holding you. You pull away first and he’s not surprised.

  “Proud of you,” he squeezes you arm again.

   “Couldn’t have done it without, Steve, really. You- you’re the best, y’know that?”

   He decides to push his luck. “Good enough to go on a date with?” He can see already that you’ll say no. That you want to say yes but you’re going to say no. He doesn’t care. He’ll wait until you’re sick of him.

  “You don’t wanna go out with me,” you squeeze his arm back.

  “You’re real silly, you know that?” His voice is warm and awfully fond.

  You can’t bring yourself to let him all the way in just yet. You walk with him back to the car and agree with him. Yes, you’re real silly, indeed.

[obsidiancreates]

Why Bounce Around To The Same Damn Song (Part 2)

(Part 1) (Henry's parenting gets exposed/Real Psychic Shawn/Protective Lassie Jules and Gus) (1/3)

“Uh-oh.” Shawn looks behind them as Gus pushes The Blueberry as fast as it can go within the legal parameters dictated on the highway signs. “Dude, my dad is following us.”

“So? The sun is shining and the ocean is wet.”

“Yeah, but I can see him scowling from here.”

“Again, the ocean is wet, Shawn.”

“Just, step on it, alright? We haven’t really talked much since the whole… talking with you guys thing. I think Lassie and Jules kinda let loose on him.”

“Really?”

“I had a vision of Jules telling Lassie that she wouldn’t shoot a friend’s father. I don’t think either of us really believed her.”

“Dang. … I mean, I can’t lie, I’ve wanted to give him a piece or two of my mind since then.”

“Yes, I’m very aware. And so is your great-great-great-great grandma, who keeps telling me to tell you to go for it. I kinda wish I’d never unblocked myself from ghosts.”

“It helped you solve our last case in record time.”

“No, that one was faked. Right now I can only see and hear spirits who’re either close to me or close to you.”

“Why close to me?”

“We have a cosmic connection Gus, our souls are literally tied together. If I ever die you’re following me within a week.”

“What?! I will not have my lifeforce tied to yours Shawn, you practically beg the universe to kill you every day!”

“But it won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. I’m the universe’s most favorite and specialist boy.”

“You, are a grown-ass man.”

“Not to the infinite cosmos, Gus. To it, we’re all little babies, little jelly-like babies.”

“I hate not being able to tell what’s your nonsense and what’s actual supernatural knowledge you possess.”

“But it’s so much fun for me that you can’t! Oh, hang on, vision incoming.” Shawn puts his hand to his head. “You’re stopping for jerk chicken on the way home.”

“You know that’s right.”

“... With Lassie and Jules joining us.” Shawn frowns, and closes his eyes. They move rapidly under his eyelids, replaying and re-examining the vision. “And they’ve got bloody knuckles.”

“What?! What are we walking into?!”

“I-I don’t know! I can’t- it’s just a glimpse. It could just be from a case or something they just got back from.”

“But?”

“What do you mean but?”

“But, that’s your ‘I’m not convinced by my own theory’ face.”

“... The blood looks pretty fresh.”

“Shawn, if we walk into the station and it’s being held up or a criminal gets loose, I will kill you.”

“One week after me, Gus, max.”

“Tsk!”

They park, both keeping low as they tumble out of The Blueberry, just in case- until Henry stalks up behind them.

“What the hell are you two doing?”

“Crrrap.” Shawn stands up straighter and turns, plastering on an innocent smile. “Dad! Here to ah, report some of those seagulls that keep stealing your fries off the porch? Sorry to inform you but, I’m not sure Lassie arrests animals other than squirrels.”

“I’m here about that.” Henry points at Shawn, so close he’s practically pressing Shawn’s nose. “And all the other crap you’ve been pulling lately.”

Shawn’s eyes cross for a second as they take in the point. “You’ll have to be way more specific, Pops.”

“This is getting obsessive, Shawn.” Henry pulls back. “I don’t understand why you feel the need to stalk me-”

“Stalk you?”

“-or anyone else just to prove how good you are-”

“Whoa whoa, Shawn is not stalking anyone.” Gus steps forward, closer to Shawn’s side. “Especially not you.”

“Then how is he coming up with this stuff?” Henry crosses his arms. “And on your last case, you didn’t come by to see me once.”

“Because we didn’t need to,” Shawn says. “Dad, come on, I know I come to you a lot but Gus and I solve cases without your help all the time.”

“Shawn I pride myself on being able to figure out patterns in people’s behaviors.”

“Now that is a real shocker, I had absolutely no idea.”

“And the patterns you follow are the easiest ones. You get a case, you get stuck, you come to me, you solve it.”

“Not every time,” Gus defends again. “Besides, shouldn’t you be happy? We’re bothering you less and solving more cases.”

“Yeah, and I want to know how.” Henry tilts his head up, trying to look at Shawn from above like when Shawn was a child. “Because I’m starting to worry that I need to step in before you do something truly unforgivable in the name of winning.”

Shawn scoffs and looks away, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Look, Dad, I’m sorry if we made you feel left out, or-or snubbed, but I’m not stalking anyone. I’ve been honing some new skills, that’s all.”

“New skills.”

“Why do your questions never sound like questions?”

“Because it’s not a question, Shawn. What skills?”

“Awesome ones.” Shawn finally looks back to meet his father’s eyes. “So awesome that your face can’t even handle them.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Great! You don’t ask questions and I don’t give answers, we’ve got a solid dynamic here. Let’s move on before it gets stale.” Shawn turns and jogs into the station. Gus lingers a moment, looking over Henry- really looking him over, seeing him through Shawn’s perspective properly for the first time ever.

Neither of them are surprised when Henry follows them into the station.

“Dad, seriously, I’m about to land us a case,” Shawn whisper-hisses as they walk into the bullpen.

“There’s nothing on the police radio about any new cases,” Henry argues.

“I’m not using the radio.”

“So how are you so sure you’re getting a case?”

“Trusting my gut.”

“Shawn, Shawn!” Henry grabs his son by the arm and yanks, making Shawn turn to face him. “I’m being serious, kid. Whatever methods you’re using now are effective, sure, but-”

“But what, Dad, I- you don’t even know what I’m doing!” Shawn feels eyes on the three of them. Great. He lowers his voice. “I promise it’s nothing illegal.” He pauses, and tilts his head. Technically his visions could be considered an invasion of privacy, right? Does being in a room metaphysically count as trespassing? And he did use one flashback vision to get the code to a safe while Gus was busy with something else, so… “More illegal.”

“So what is it?”

Shawn looks into Henry’s eyes… and blinks. Sudden understanding washes over him, the slight irritation giving way to deeper bitterness- and hurt, but on Shawn it just makes him look… normal. Toned-down, withdrawn, normal. “This isn’t about worrying about what I’m doing. It’s just driving you nuts that you can’t figure it out.”

“Yeah, which you were hoping for anyway, with all the flaunting. Congratulations kid, you found a new way to get on my nerves. Now tell me what you’re up to. You don’t have enough money to pay people off for information, you’re barely passable in sneaking or laying low, and you’re not really psy-”

“Shawn, Gus.” Jules walks over, eyes cold as they linger on Henry. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, Jules, it’s fine.” Shawn flashes her a small smile. “Pop-pop here was just begging for me to give him some of my blood for a new hair regrowth regiment. He’ll need to scrub his head with my plasma, everyday, with a follow up pineapple head mask. I was just turning him down.”

“Well, good. We need you both on the case that just came in.” Jules passes Shawn a file, now fully ignoring Henry. “A twenty-five year old but very experienced water sports champion was just found stabbed to death in the back of an abandoned community center construction site.”

Shawn flips through the file, focusing on the pictures. “Abandoned community center?”

“Project ran out of funding, and no-one bought the land after because they found out it was completely ruined with lead deposits.”

“But this report says that a new survey just cleared the land of all health risk concerns.” Gus pulls out the report in question to read it more closely. “The old one was just wrong? What?”

Shawn nods. “Things are definitely fishy, and not just because I can smell my dad from here. And uh…” Shawn’s next thought is interrupted as he hones in on the stab wound in the base of the victim’s neck, and his hand goes to his head. “I am sensing that the wound in the neck was made by a different weapon than the wounds in the chest.”

“Yeah, the neck was done with something circular, like a um, knitting needle-”

“Or pen?”

“Yeah.”

Images flash through Shawn’s mind- too quick to be helpful. He sees a struggle, he sees a blow to the throat with a fist, then with a pen- 

He narrows his eyes, playing it over again. When the attacker punches her throat, he reels back when she starts asphyxiating. His hands are shaking when he stabs the pen in.

“He was trying to save her,” he mumbles. “Jules, I think this was an accide-”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Henry snatches the file out of Shawn’s hands. “You don’t have nearly enough information to just call this an accident.”

“He had a vision, clearly.�� Jule’s voice is stone-cold. “Carlton! Shawn has something for us!”

Lassiter walks up, his frown deepening. “You’re working with your dad on this?”

“No! No, he just- he followed us in here.”

“Because he’s a control freak,” Gus adds. Shawn looks at him with surprise, and Gus looks a little surprised himself at the sudden boldness. 

Lassiter just tenses his mouth and then nods to Shawn.

“I had a vision.” Shawn puts his other hand up to his head now. “The attacker is angry, but not enough to kill. No, no, I see panic! He’s using an old trick, a pen in the throat to help someone breathe, he’s trying to save her!” 

“Oh, no.” Shawn spares one glance at Henry, and sees horror. “No.”

“Dad, seriously, I’ll tell you later,” Shawn whispers, nudging Henry away a little. “I think we should start with suspects who cared about he- HEY!”

Henry drags Shawn away into a quiet corner, and Shawn notices out of the corner of his eye that Lassie’s hand twitches towards his jacket for a second. It can’t look that aggressive to someone watching, can it?

“You, are not, psychic,” Henry says firmly as soon as they’re tucked away.

“I never said I was.”

“You don’t have to. That’s what that was just now, wasn’t it? You think you’re actually psychic.”

“Can we please do this later?” Shawn keeps his voice as low as possible. “In case you missed it, I’m kind of on a case right now.” The word ‘case’ is said so quietly that it’s silent, the only sound the shifting of saliva in Shawn’s mouth.

“You’re spouting bullcrap and putting the real detectives on a bad lead,” Henry whispers back.

“Dad, you have to trust me on this!”

“What makes you think you’ve earned enough trust for me to let this happen?! You are not actually psychic, Shawn!”

“What if I was? Huh? If I was and I could prove it, would you let me get back to my job?” He didn’t want to do this, he didn’t want to ever do this, he wanted to just play around and confuse his dad forever-

“Prove it.” Again with the not-questions.

“Prove it, yes. Here, like this- the other day I had a vision of you sitting and watching a show you and Mom used to love and you picked up your phone to text her but deleted it all instead. How about that, does that convince you?”

“Where were you hiding?”

“Nowhere! Dad, seriously, I’ll explain right after this if you just-”

“No! No, Shawn, no, because if this is getting to your head that badly then this needs to end.”

“Wh-” Henry is stalking away back to Gus and the detectives before Shawn can fully process what he means. “Dad!” He jogs to catch up. “Dad, wait-”

“Detectives, I have something to tell you both, out of extreme concern for Shawn’s mental wellbeing.”

Gus scoffs. Jules and Lassie don’t look convinced of Henry’s intentions either. It’s enough to throw him for a second, a second long enough for Shawn to catch up.

Henry looks at Gus, then Jules, then Lassie. “What’s going on here? First I get thrown out of the station, now I’m not taken seriously when I’m worried about my own son?”

“Look Spencer,” Lassies says, looking down at Henry, “To be frank, starting something off with you being concerned about your son’s mental wellbeing isn’t exactly a convincing start.”

Shawn’s eyes widen and he starts making a slicing motion across his neck.

Henry crosses his arms. “And why is that?”

“You’ve never exactly pulled your punches when publicly lambasting him.”

“And you’ve never defended him to me before.” Henry narrows his eyes. “And Guster’s never insulted me like he did earlier.” He turns to Shawn. “What the hell did you say?”

“Nothing,” Shawn says quickly. “Nobody’s saying anything and Gus and I are leaving, and I’ll explain everything to you some other time that’s not right now!”

“No! No, you are not running away from this, tell me what you told them to make them treat me this way.”

“He told us about his training,” Jules says even as Shawn tries to motion for silence again. “And as much as we appreciate the help he’s able to provide to the department because of it, it was… unethical at best.”

“Unethical.”

Shawn tries to pull Gus away. 

“Oh come on Spencer, even I know that you can’t do all of that to a child and expect them to have all their screws tightened in place.” Lassiter crosses his arms. “At least when I memorized the Miranda Rights at seven it was because I wanted to.”

“Oh, so he told you everything.” Henry eyes Shawn. “That I trained him to be a detective and he threw it all away to be a psychic.”

“He’s a psychic and a detective,” Jules says firmly.

“No, he’s not.”

“Dad-” 

“No, this has gone too far, Shawn. Detectives Shawn is not and never has been psychic, but he’s begun believing his own lie and I’m seriously concerned about his mental state.”

[thependragonarchives]

Grim Reaper Headcanon Blurb

here's just a good chunk of all headcanons I have for general Dispatch shenanigans!! below cut :> ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ-

✧ A general one shared with most of tumblr, but the reapers looking more inhuman. Sharp teeth, glowing eyes, pointed ears, the works! I personally think they carry the smell of decay with them. But I also think they carry physical traits from their deaths as well! A reaper who drowned would look bluish/greenish, a reaper who died of blood loss would be ashen, burned by fire have dryer/leathery skin, etc. etc.

✧ On the list of 'petty things to get written up for', unpermitted scythe modification is probably high on the list. Dispatch, regardless of the staff of the Management Division's own personal thoughts, requires everything and anything to be recorded and reported. Even if it's just a simple blade change. People forget!

✧ When a reaper first 'wakes up', they're treated with cold and clinical detachment. A statistic before anything else. Dying is incredibly traumatic, and 'waking up', a reaper is probably going to be in shock! It's easier faster to go through the paperwork first, before beginning to explain everything. Even then, there's this shitty information pamphlet the doctor hands you, called 'So You Killed Yourself! What Now?', to help explain the role a new reaper now plays.

✧ There's different levels of blindness a reaper can have! While they're all legally blind, some can see more than others! I personally think Grell and Othello can see colored blurbs, and can make out features but to really see specific details they squint, while William is almost-fully blind, only seeing big splotches of color. Like a bleeding watercolor painting.

✧ Birthdays aren't celebrated often. There's either no-time or no purpose to them, because a reaper is 'one age' forever. Death Days, while not celebrated however, are treated with kindness and respect and empathy- The whole shebang. Death Days are reminders of the fact this is a punishment for their suicide, making a reaper feel that anguish that caused them to take their life anyways. In certain, severe cases there's even physical reminders (an old bullet wound beginning to bleed, water being coughed up, feeling like one's burning alive). Calling out and having either your: Mandatory Partner, dear friend, or romantic/queerplatonic other half(ves) spend the day with the affected reaper is MANDATORY, due to how volatile it can be.

✧ Mandatory Partners!! My personal example is William/Grell before Will got 'promoted' to Management. Or Alan/Eric before the Tragedy. A mandatory partner is essentially someone a reaper in Retrievals works extremely well with, and the Higher Ups require reapers to NEVER BE ALONE and have someone else in the area. There's too many dangers to working alone, without backup a skip away. If there isn't anyone a reaper works well with (or their MP is assigned far away), a Mentor or Management position can take the place of the MP. London Dispatch, however, is usually short-staffed and can't supply this often, meaning reapers work alone instead of in pairs.

✧ While most demons can't permanently kill a reaper, they can severely wound one so a Bigger Threat (starving demon, Greater Demon, rogue deserter, Dispatch Itself) can kill them. Lesser-Demons however, can 'attatch' themselves to a healthy reaper, and create a parasitic relationship. A reaper's energy/'lifeforce' gets slowly drained unless they feed the demon the souls they reap, but this is considered low-class and taboo by demons, while reapers have very few cases of this. It isn't impossible though, with the right circumstances (and a bit of manipulation).

✧ Deserters aren't executed or jailed when caught! No, they're put into a 'reformation' process, ESPECIALLY if the Dispatch branch is short staffed. This is done as a 'final chance for redemption', before the brass takes them away forever. No one knows what happens to the ones the reformation didn't help.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

[simpleeticklish]

Ladies Choice

Note: This is my first time writing for them. Really writing any tickle fic. So my atrocious cajun/southern accent spelling is my own. I was trying to mimic how comics seem to depict their dialogue. Ler!Rogue, Lee!Gambit. I referred to her as Rogue for most of the fic while Gambit is Remy since it seems like she doesn't use or like her real name in the tv show. Implied nsfw, nothing graphic. Hope you enjoy. 

“Pick a card,” Remy flipped two cards facedown, a devious smile gracing his features and making the blood in Rogue’s veins burn. 

Some nights when they decided to have some kinkier fun, they had agreed the choice of who tops should be laid at the cards. Queen of Hearts was her choice. King’s was his. After another day of saving the world, they were all too eager to spend the night in the rewarding pursuit of their own pleasure. 

She picked up the card and triumphantly fluttered it in Remy’s face, "It's ladies choice.” 

“Mmm,” Remy purred, picking up their convenient stash of silk ropes from under the bed, “You’ll be begging me to -” 

“No,” Rogue grabbed the silk ropes and quickly tied it around his wrists, “Ah want to show you how it’s done.” 

Usually, she was more than happy to lay back and let Remy use his nimble fingers to do what he did best, but she felt like it’d been a while since she got to show off. 

Remy’s smile widened and his obediently laid back, “Bout time you did some of the work.” 

“Shut yer mouth,” Rogue playfully swatted his shoulder as she got to work tying his spread-eagle to the bed-posts. 

“Blindfold too?” Remy asked. 

“Nah. Ah’m not gonna do everything you do. I got some plans of my own,” Rogue said. Remy tugged at the rope to make sure it was secure. It held. 

Rogue clambered on top of him, pausing to grind against him before kissing him. It started out soft but when her tongue slipped past his lips and he nibbled at her bottom lip, it transformed into a push and pull that characterized their passionate affair.

The coller-inhibitor was a terrible invention, born out of anti-mutant sentiment. But God! Rogue was grateful for its existence and the chance it gave for her to enjoy all of this without draining Remy's lifeforce. 

The fire, the passion, the heat. She wanted to get close, and never let go. 

That’s why she hadn’t noticed it at first. Feeling up his shaggy hair, the brustle of his five o'clock shadow, the longing press of his lips against hers consumed her senses. She assumed the shiver as she stroked the nape of his neck was out of desire to get closer. 

But then she stroked again, and that shudder was more prominent. He bent his neck and shrugged his shoulders like he was trying to shrug away a bug tickling his neck. Rogue could feel his smile against her lips, but she had a new suspicion that it wasn’t entirely fueled by his love for her. 

One hand still tugging at his hair, she moved her right to feel up the petrocals rippling down his arm. Firm at first, then lighter, just touching with the pads of her fingers until she wormed her way to his armpit where she traced around the rim.

The reaction was instantaneous. 

“Gahhahahahah!”

Remy threw his head back with a jerk, stinging Rogue’s lips from the suddenness. That and the wonderful sound of her boyfriend’s carefree chortle. 

Mischievous excitement jumped in her chest. All those times Remy had surprised her with tickles in the morning, gloating that only he knew her secret weakness and would always be able to defeat her. . . and he had the same weakness! 

Not letting the golden opportunity slip past, Rogue enthusiastically scrambled her fingers into both of his pits. 

The charming thief who stole her heart with his flirty repartee wasn’t able to say a word. 

“ChohohI-hahoRo! Stahahahaha!”

Oh, Rogue could hear snatches of a word. The beginning of her name. But he couldn’t complete it. Couldn’t form a full sentence much less use his infamous silver tongue to talk his way out of this predicament. 

“Oh, chere, if only the world knew the great Prince of the Thieves’ Guild. The great and powerful cardshark, Gambit, could be so weak to a little ticklin’,” Rogue teased, throwing back the same taunt he had used when ambushing her. 

“NonhahaEr-I-hahahaha”

“What was that, Remy? Wanna use that pretty mouth of yours to say something? I’m listening.” 

Remy’s pretty mouth was occupied in laughing his heart out but Rogue was certainly listening. Remy’s laugh was different. It wasn’t the deep, sexy chuckle that charmed the pants off of men and women. It wasn’t calculated to seduce any target or prove his nonchalance. 

This one was unrestrained and light. Almost boyish. It made Rogue’s heart melt. 

Rogue found it hard to let people in, but Remy was guilty of the same sin, hiding behind his scoundrel name like nothing really mattered to him. Like that would make him care less. 

They had managed to let down their walls with each other, after a lot of obstacles, but she hadn’t realized this was Remy’s sincere laugh. 

Maybe he hadn’t either. 

Either way, Rogue loved the sound. 

But she wasn’t going to torture her paramour, and she could tell he was tiring by the way he was straining against the taunt cords. 

She withdrew her hands from the sensitive area and went back to massaging his tense shoulders. It garnered a few reflexive giggles but after a moment he relaxed to his standard cockiness. 

“Hmm, no wonder your costume covers all of your skin- to protect your sensitive side,” Rogue smirked, “Maybe we should hold off trying anything. You being too ticklish for my touch and all.” 

“Ah no, mon chere. I’m not. I was jus’ not ‘specting it. Dat’s all,” Remy smirked but Rogue could see the hint of blush on his cheeks, all embarrassed by how the tables had turned on him. 

“Now, Gambit, don’t mind your touch. ‘Specially if it’s a touch more wicked.”

Remy sat up, brushing his lips against her ears, sending tingles down her spine as she imagined the various wicked scenarios they usually got up to. 

Rogue carefully got up from straddling his waist, and threw a smoldering look over her shoulder. Remy wiggled in anticipation to a sitting position against the fluffy pillows. He didn’t hold back his moan as she trailed her hands down from his abdomen to his thighs. . . past his thighs. To his feet.

“Ah’m sure glad you still want my touch. Cuz Ah was thinking we might have a little more fun before we get to the good stuff. Seeing you can’t go nowhere anyway,” Rogue smiled, one index finger on each of his big toes. 

Rogue began to stroke one finger down his soles to his heels. Then stroke back up. A light touch of her finger down, the tickly feel of her fingernail up. Up, down. Up, down. 

Remy let out a yelp at the first contact, followed by a strangled sound. Still she kept stroking her single finger. Up, down. Up, down. 

“You know, ah don’t like it when ya lie to me. Ah don’t like it all. Ah feel like you’re ticklish. ‘Specting it or no.” 

Remy’s defense easily fell apart to her maddeningly persistent technique. He was already giggling like a schoolboy.

“Come on, Anna-Marie, be sweet,” Remy said, between titters. No doubt, he hoped that the calculated use of her real name would soften her.  

Rogue continued with her single finger, waiting for him to use their safe-word to put this to rest. Instead Remy was trying to hide his face by smashing it against the pillows. Still, he didn’t say the safeword. 

So Rogue took it as permission to use all her fingers on his defenseless soles.

“Ah’m as sweet as you deserve, swamp rat!” Rogue called over his laughter, “It’s been a long time coming that I get to tickle you!” 

“Da-ahahaha-dat’s diffhehahaho!” Remy protested, cut off by his own snickers when she began playing with his toes. 

“Oh really?” Rogue drawled, stopping her ticklish assault to hear his explanation. 

Remy sighed, flushed but unrepentant. 

“It’s dat you’re so pretty, mon ami. Your laugh is gorgeous. Your body so inviting to . . .” Remy’s upper lip curled, leaving the rest implied before continuing, “You’ve had a hard life. A lonely life. I want to ease it a bit.” 

Rogue couldn’t help smiling. Remy had always been good to her in that way. Stubborn as she was, no matter how she pushed him away, resigning herself to a life of isolation because of her cursed touch. He fought just as hard to say different. That she deserved love, life and all that it entails.

And he’d be the one to stand by her side, showering her with compliments and affection. Even if he insisted on tickling and teasing her at 6 in the freaking morning as a valid wake-up tactic.

Rogue walked over to the side of the bed, and captured his face in her hands, leaned over and kissed him. Not their usual battle to kiss harder and more passionately. But a firm, steady one of love and security. They were meant for each other’s side. Always would be. 

Rogue broke away first, lingering a little in the brightness of his smile, “That’s real sweet. Ah appreciate that.” 

She clambered onto the bed and sat above his knees, facing toward him. “In fact, Ah could say the exact same things ‘bout you. So laugh, sugar, Ah love to hear it.” 

She reached behind and squeezed his knee-caps, earning another surprised yelp. But it was when she squeezed his inner thigh and drilled at his hip bone, digging into the tendons that she hit a gold mine. 

Remy whooped, bucking his hips, twisting around, and arching his back in an attempt to unseat her. Rogue stayed on, laughing herself at the surprising noises he was making. 

“Is that some Cajun war-whoop? Do it again!” Rogue cheered, repeating the motion.

Remy was helpless to answer his girlfriend’s teasing. Broken by the “Cajun war-whoops,” he had devolved into silent laughter, unable to muster a sound. Rogue could only ascertain his ticklish agony from the smile splitting his face and the convulsive heave of his chest. 

She quickly put an end to that. Despite the funny sound, it was a bad spot and she didn’t want to bring him unnecessary distress where he couldn’t say the safeword. 

Panting, Remy still managed to put up his arrogant smirk. “Know dat Gambit’s gonna get you for dis.” 

“Good ‘ting Rogue knows how to get back,” Rogue mimicked his accent, tapping at his rib cage. She happily noted how he flinched when she reached the uppermost ones. 

“Have a heart, chere,” Remy said, “I can ‘tink of plenty other things to do with your hands.” 

“I can imagine too,” Rogue said saucily, “There’s just one last spot I want to check. With a challenge.: 

Remy raised an intrigued eyebrow just like she knew he would, “I like a challenge.”

“It’s simple. Say a complete sentence.” 

Not giving Remy time to think, or more likely, retort, Rogue scribbled her fingers all over his upper body. Spidering in the hollows of his armpits, counting off his ribs and feathering around his very ticklish belly button. That spot made him squeal. 

“Fuhahahaahahah!Shihahaho!Chehehehohahah stoahahahp!” 

Rogue continued to speak as if Remy was capable of replying, “Ah think Ah’m being fair. It’s not like Ah’m asking you to hold one of your playing cards between your toes. Though with your squirming I doubt you’d succeed. This one you have a fighting chance.” 

“GahahaheI-Ihehehehohoa!’ 

“Ah’ll even tell you what to say. “I, Remy LeBeau, love it when you tickle me.” 

“WaihahahaNo! I-hahCherahohehehe-IhaNo-” Remy desperately shook his head from side to side as if he was summoning his will power to ignore the fingers fluttering down his sides. 

“Ah I think you do,” Rogue teased, rubbing slightly against his erect member. She knew there were many reasons for his anatomy’s apparent attention. The friction of squirming underneath her. The view of her in his favorite lingerie. But it was worth seeing the wide-eyed shock that blasted his easy-going composure. 

And the obvious blush staining his cheeks.

“I-ahaha I-pl-ahahaha!” “Come on, Ah believe in you,” Rogue cajoled, shifting positions so she could lay across his chest, chin resting at his collarbones. It gave her prime access to his sides and pits with the choice to kiss him whenever she pleased.

She peppered his chest with kisses and nibbles. She nuzzled at his neck while tickling him lightly, knowing she had to ease up if he was ever going to get a word in. Still, the confusing stimuli of sensual kisses with gentle tickling seemed to leave his tongue incoherent. 

“Come on, Remy, you’re so close.” 

“I-hehehahehalohahaheholovehehe-you!” Remy gasped out. 

“Close enough.” 

Rogue stopped, massaging at the ticklish spots until he stopped laughing. 

Fitting her head in the crook of his neck, Rogue looked at Remy, brushing a stray hair plastered to his forehead from his exuberant struggle. “Ah’m sorry if Ah rode you too hard. You didn’t say the safe-word so. . . I know it’s not what you had in mind for tonight.” 

“Gambit can handle anyt’ing. I know dat you don’t get much experience with touch or playin’ around so if you want ta do some ticklin’, I’ll do it.”  

The tender look in his magenta eyes belied his casual tone. Pure Remy LeBeau. Love disguised as nonchalance. Rogue wondered if he’d ever believe he was as good as his deeds. 

She hugged him tight, “Same goes for you, darling. I’ll tolerate it more now that Ah know how much you enjoy it.” 

“For your sake,” Remy countered. 

“You’re the one who always starts it,” Rogue pointed out. “I told you. Your laugh is irresistible.” 

“But you had a good time, now. Admit it,” Rogue insisted. Remy shrugged as much as his bonds would allow like he was placating her. 

Oh well, she’d get him to admit it another day. 

They still had a whole night of fun and sinning to get to.

[whumpwillow]

Demon’s Haven 7

*drops in after a year’s disappearance and vanishes* 

uhhh yeah here have a thing 

—

masterlist

warnings: conditioning, fucky headspace, implied past torture

—

There was a demon in her house. A demon in her house.

One of her worst nightmares realized, a fear that came to her through all the stories she’d heard of the creatures of the dark, of the way they plagued the witches of the city whenever they appeared. The terrible deals, the havoc, the chaos, the violence. Rogue, unleashed demons escaped from their binds, or from the gates that closed off their realm from hers.

Haven never had any experience with them and had hoped she never would, aside from carefully controlled deal-makings. She’d warded her house so she could have a safe place they couldn’t enter, lest they invade her section of the city as well.

Wards that had hurt the very creature she now sought to protect.

If a demon had ever managed to enter her house, she’d have thought there’d be a awful brawl. Perhaps a snarling, smirking menace, prowling the halls in search of her blood, her magic, her lifeforce. She had not expected a pitiful thing curled up underneath her breakfast bar, wedged in between the barstools. A shivering boy trying to make himself as small as possible.

It took a while to get him inside the house, both from the pain of his injuries and from the diminished trust the protection sigil incident had wrought. He’d still followed her when asked, despite the terror written clear across his face. Haven had a feeling he’d do anything she requested of him, even if it hurt. The realization made her sick to the stomach—even when she knew that was exactly the kind of thing she’d heard demons did to witches.

This one wasn’t trying to hurt her though. She was trying to make sure he knew she wasn’t trying to hurt him.

She’d lead him into the kitchen—the closest place he could sit—and eased him onto one of the barstools, then left to go collect all the first-aid supplies she could find. She came back, her arms laden with gauze and antiseptic, to find the demon huddled on the floor under the bar.

Haven sighed, setting down her supplies on a nearby table. She approached the demon slowly. His eyes flicked up to meet hers, watery and viridian, standing out against the redness from his profuse crying.

Haven crouched down and moved to sit beside him. He didn’t say anything, and neither did she. If this was enough to comfort him, she didn’t know, but at least he hadn’t tried to scramble away like he had back in the summoning circle. His body quivered, pitching every so often with quiet sobs.

“You can lean your head on my shoulder, if you want,” Haven said.

The demon turned to look at her, questioning, painfully hopeful. Utterly soft. Haven gave him a short nod and a sad smile to reassure him that it really was alright.

He shifted, then winced. Haven had to hold back from reaching out to him when he did; she didn’t want to move too fast and scare him. By all the stars, all she wanted was to hold him. He leaned his head on her shoulder, slowly at first, more than a little hesitant. The touch of his silken hair against her cheek was feather light, and she knew he wasn’t putting all the weight he could on her, so she settled a hand on his head. He didn’t move away, and she rubbed a thumb back and forth over his hair until he finally, finally, let himself relax. His body drooped with the weight of exhaustion and Haven felt him sag against her. He nuzzled his head into the crook of her neck just as he’d done on the way to the vineyard and Haven placed a gentle kiss on the crown of his head.

“You’re gonna be okay. You’re safe now. I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” she murmured, keeping her voice low and soft.

She continued whispering reassurances to him until her limbs began to go numb, but she refused to move. His wounds needed tending, but he seemed so tired. She had to give him what must have been the first bit of rest without fear that he’d had in…who knows how long. She understood something had happened to him. That much was obvious. But it occurred to her that she had no idea how long the pain had gone on for—was it one night? Two?

Looking over his wounds and his skittish behavior, she knew in her heart that it wasn’t.

Demons lived forever. What had been done to him could have lasted months, even years, and he never would have died no matter what had happened.

Haven gulped, sick to her stomach. Her eyes burned with unshed tears and she experienced such a rush of protectiveness like nothing she’d ever felt before.

“Hey,” she whispered. “Hey, demon.”

She didn’t even know his name.

“Demon,” she tried again. He turned his face up to meet hers and she was again struck by his beauty. His dark lashes fanned over high cheekbones, tears glistening among them like stars. “I need to clean your wounds.”

Clearly, the wrong thing to say.

The demon screeched, a high-pitched wail that shattered any of the peace Haven had managed to bring to him. He scrambled away, toppled over, and hit his head on the leg of the barstool. He whimpered softly, holding up hands to push away whatever torment he imagined might be laid upon him.

What had been done to the poor thing?

Haven swallowed down the uncomfortable feeling in her throat and held up her hands, palms out. “Hey, hey it’s alright. It’s alright.”

The demon had gone back into his usual pleas, saying that he would be good, whatever that meant. Haven fetched the supplies she’d dumped on the table and came back, ignoring the clenching of her heart as she saw the demon draw away from her. She set the supplies on the breakfast bar and held out a hand to the demon, which he took, albeit hesitantly. It seemed like one of those things he didn’t want to do, but thought he had no other choice but to obey, which Haven didn’t like, though it was necessary for now. The demon had so many injuries and she had no idea if they would get infected like a human’s wounds would, but she certainly didn’t want to leave them long enough to find out.

She helped the demon up and settled him on a barstool, the wicker weaving of the seat barely creaking under his dismal weight. Haven tutted at his emaciated form—so thin she could see his ribs, as well as every cut and bruise. She wasn’t sure if he’d bounce back from the malnourishment any time soon.

One thing at a time.

Haven poured some water into a bowl and set it on the table. The demon eyed it with ferocious dread.

“It’s just water,” Haven said. “I’m going to clear away the blood.”

The demon nodded, tense. His muscles were taut and his face scrunched up as if he were bracing for something, but he complied all the same.

“Yes. The holy water will make me pure,” he replied to her, his voice rote and mechanical, like this was something he’d been made to say many, many times before.

Rage surged within her, but Haven tried to keep it off her face. It wouldn’t do any good to display anger in front of him, not when he was so afraid.

And holy water? Really?

No wonder he was afraid of her cleaning the wounds—he thought she was going to hurt him further. That the holy water would seep into the cuts and burn—

Haven shook her head, trying to clear away the mental image. She didn’t want to imagine the demon in front of her, writhing in agony as some nameless horror doused his skin in what would send a roaring fire through his veins. To imagine the sharp, endless scorching that would tear through him, mixing with his blood and travelling through his body until he was nothing more than a searing husk, melted from the inside and begging for release—

No. No, she did not want to think about that.

She set a hand on the table, then gave the demon a steady gaze. “I’m not going to hurt you. I will never hurt you—” she thought of the protection ward incident, of her own inexperience with this strange situation of taking care of an injured demon. “…Not intentionally, anyway. I don’t want to hurt you.”

The demon blinked at her, as if he couldn’t quite process the words. She’d tried to fill her voice with as much conviction as she could without making it sound unpleasantly forceful, but she wasn’t sure he believed her.

“But I am…evil,” he replied. “I am a sinner and must be made pure.”

Haven typically didn’t swear as she felt it reduced the potency of her words, but right now she really wanted to.

She set a hand on the demon’s cheek, looking into those fathomless emerald eyes. “You are not evil. You do not need to suffer to be good.”

A crack. Not a physical one—Haven had heard enough of those in all the times the demon had accidentally injured himself. But a breaking point, a seam in the appearance of a person that had been through so much and lost everything. The tears came again. Gasping, hitching sobs, and he broke. He laid his head on her shoulder and she set a hand on his hair, and told him what she knew he needed to hear.

“You did not deserve what they did to you.”

This. This was everything the demon hadn’t ever dared to hope for.

—

next

taglist:  @whumpsday @whump-cravings @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @elrys-creates @cupcakes-and-pain @emcscared-whumps @wolfeyedwitch @inpainandsuffering @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @moss-tombstone @myhusbandsasemni @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @cicatrix-energy @chibichibivale @whump-queen @hollowgast1 @the-magpiesystem @monochrome-episode @forestfanders

[treesandwords]

For anyone who's into LOTR I am rereading (again) and took notes on the weirdest/most interesting bits this time:

There are/were other magic rings beside the main ones, which is part of what makes it so hard for other characters to believe that Bilbo's ring is actually The ring

At one point Tolkien jumps into the POV of a random fox walking by our protagonists' camp and then never brings it up again, no big deal

The ever-controversial Tom Bombadil has several other names we just never talk about? And the elves (at least in Rivendell) know about him and have known about him for many years now

They also consider giving him the ring but ultimately decide it would be a bad idea because "he'd probably just lose it"

A lot of what happens to Frodo after he's been stabbed by the Nazgul is less symptomatic of dark magic and more of just...having a severe shoulder injury?? Like "oh no my hand is numb and I'm weak and can't move it, must be the evils of Mordor" bro you probably just have nerve damage and blood loss

Bilbo straight up writes and sings a song about Elrond's dad in front of him and a bunch of other elves in Rivendell like. The audacity.

There's a river called "Wetwang" (yes it's called Nindalf in Elvish, but that's not important here)

Aragorn never tells anyone else that Boromir admitted to trying to take the ring, it's implied he even keeps it secret from Gandalf once he reappears

The "Two Towers" actually refers to Orthanc and Minas Morgal, not Orthanc and Barad-Dur as the films suggest

Eomer has met and possibly was friendly with Boromir

Also Aragorn, who doesn't look that old, straight up tells Eomer he'd met both his father and Theoden when they were younger and he just...has zero reaction?? Like if a guy who looked not much older than me wisely said "ah yes, I met your father and uncle long ago" in a way that implied they'd worked together as somewhat equals I'd be. A little uncertain to say the least.

Oh and he also hung out with Denethor back in the day

Eomer and Gimli have a running disagreement on whether or not Galadriel is real, and if so, how hot she is

This is common ish knowledge but there are elements of actual Old English embedded into Rohan's worldbuilding (esp. the names/ "Rohrric" language) and the whole location is genuinely just Tolkien's fantasy version of Anglo-Saxon Britain. He is very not subtle about it.

Saruman was FULLY RUNNING DRUGS BACK AND FORTH BETWEEN THE SHIRE AND ISENGARD

And this actually ends up contributing to a main plot in the third book

Instead of the Palantir falling out of Saruman's pocket when he dies like in the movie, Gandalf shoots a spell at Saruman and makes him run back inside Orthanc and Wormtongue chucks the Palantir down at him from the window in retaliation

I know the potato scene is *iconic* but let's be real the fact that Sam risks a fire and takes the time to make a full rabbit stew plus seasoning while they're on a dangerous secret mission to sneak into the Darkest Of Dark Lords' fortress is kind of hilarious

Minas Morgul is some serious eldritch horror cryptid shit

Denethor is honestly such drama queen. Like I know he's supposed to be a threatening and tragic character but holy shit.

Also the entire houses of healing segment is unintentionally comedic

Like between the old lady who runs the house giving absolutely zero fucks, and the herb master and Aragorn having a mini nerd off about what Athelas/Kingsfoil is called in different languages, and also Aragorn and Pippin roasting Merry - who has JUST woken up from an Evil Coma by the way - about not being able to find his weed

"This weed is better than I thought" -- actual quote by Ioreth re: kingsfoil

This is something I noticed that a lot of people don't mention - the "Evenstar" that Arwen gives Aragorn in the movies that's tied to her lifeforce/immortality isn't really a thing in the books. The closest to it is this green brooch that she gives him via Galadriel in FOTR - but the only necklace she gives to anyone is actually to Frodo, as a token that basically means if he ever wants to go to the Grey Havens (as he ultimately does) he'd essentially be taking her place because she isn't going

Ok the scouring of the Shire is pretty common knowledge but are we going to talk about Lotho Sackville-Baggins became Saruman's dealer and helped smuggle drugs pipeweed into Isengard (see I told you it would come back)

Also!! Lotho was possibly EATEN by Grima Wormtongue, or at the very least Saruman believes he was, yes this is an actual canon thing

Legit quote from ROTK: "Worm killed your Chief, poor little fellow, your nice little Boss. Didn't you, Worm? Stabbed him in his sleep, I believe. Buried him, I hope; though Worm has been very hungry lately[]"

Seriously what the fuck

Saruman is killed by Wormtongue (who is then shot by a bunch of Hobbit archers) and promptly....disintegrates?

Anyway if you're a casual fan who's only seen the movies, or if you haven't read the books in a while, I'd highly recommend.

[whatgaviiformes]

Masterpost of Thunderteers (Gavii's Privateers!AU)

I am not sure if I've done this already, but this Universe has certainly evolved, so I figured why not. This AU started in a booth at tex-mex restaurant, with Hubs and I just talking sailing and the pirate trend that should never have gone away in my humble opinion. He knows just enough about Thunderbirds to brainstorm with me - so that conversation became the first three chapters of Voyage.

You can find the AO3 series in full here

I recommend starting with Hold Fast, which is Gordon's accident fic. It's heavy, but poignant. Then either read the three earlier ones for backstory or read forward chronologically for heals. Voyage is still solid since it was the start of the AU, but it is on hold so really it's just a small taste.

Did I crochet this because of Thunderteers? No, but I do really like boats.

~*~*~*~*~ In Chronological Order [Complete]

Lord Gordon's Reel: Summer, 1768. Virgil finds his best inspiration at sea. A Thunderteers Story. Oneshot Ao3

Fathoms: Virgil wonders what’s below and Gordon tells a story about a kraken. Oneshot  Ao3

Windswept: As far as clouds go, Gordon is among the strangest. Oneshot Ao3

Hold Fast: Autumn, 1775. “The rigging ran through his blood; it was an energy, a lifeforce.” Multi-Chaptered Ao3

Brother's Oath: In "Hold Fast," Scott makes a decision. It did not come to him easily. Oneshot Ao3

Blow Ye Winds, Blow: One Prompt Challenge Submission - A scene after "Hold Fast" Oneshot Ao3

Oak and Ivory: It’s a Thursday in the summer of 1776, and the USS Thunderbird is docked in port in New England. For Virgil, it brings him the gift of inspiration, starting with a rare morning off and a warbler… Oneshot Ao3

~*~*~*~*~

In Progress/On Hold

Voyage of the USS Thunderbird: The Thunderbird is a merchant ship. Truly, she is. So why are Captain Scott C. Tracy and his crew trying to avoid the British navy? Privateers!AU Thunderteers Verse. Multi-Chaptered Ao3

~*~*~*~*~

Artwork!!

Commissioned art of Gordon by the wonderful @chenria

Art of Scott here and here by followthepaintbrush/@soniabigcheese

[scarletiswailing347]

saw a vampbo and got inspo for my banquet au lol

this is meant to be platonic but i cant really blame anyone for seeing it as romantic considering *gestures* yknow

btw grian's reply isn't just exaggeration, vampires in this world...lowkey work like viruses lol, i mean it's not an exact comparison obviously but it's pretty close

grian is an endian which is different from enderians in that it's specifically the species of those bitches from the end credits. he was originally gonna be a watcher but my story changed too much for it to make sense since, from what i know of the watchers, they're a lot more active than the creatures in my story -- hence i made the endians which are more like observers rather than watchers

the thing about endians is that, as passive as they are, they are extremely powerful and can one hit kill most creatures including vampires

now here's where the virus-like qualities of the vampires in this universe come into play, vampires are pretty much entirely powerless against endians...unless they suck their blood -- this is cause, once vampires suck a creatures blood, they rapidly develop defenses against that creature and, to some extent, other creatures of that species as well, making it theoretically possible for them to become completely unkillable against a specific species

of course they're gonna have to be careful how much blood they drink at a time cause if a vampire is too weak to handle an endian's blood they'll just die from lifeforce poisoning essentially lol, but endians have a lot of lifeforce in them so they only really need a little anyway to be satiated

the fact that endians have a lot of lifeforce make them very attractive to vampires and what stops most vampires from pursuing them is the fact that they'll most likely just get killed trying to do so (being powerful doesnt necessarily mean having a lot of, if any, lifeforce btw)

grian has been burned this way before when a certain vampire betrayed his trust and used his massively increased resistance against him and pretty much any other endian he encountered, luckily he didn't reach the point of full immunity and was killed once enough endians banded together to kill him

this incident caused an even bigger rift among vampires and endians and a lot of endians p much became kill-on-sight when it comes to vampires, grian also got banished for "being foolish enough to ever trust a vampire to such an extent"

so yeah grian letting mumbo suck his blood is a Pretty Big DealTM

[cheiyunn]

Kimisute main story [２部 ] Part 4

Side: Fantome Iris

[Fantome Iris live concert]

FELIX: Welcome… my endearing followers

FELIX: This is our utopia… a sacred kingdom lurking where the light does not reach

FELIX: Now, let us begin our evening banquet. Offer it! The proof of life that flows within… the red blood that lay within you..!

HARU: We won’t stop until every one of you raises their voices! So follow us ‘till the end!

ZACK: HYAHA !! WE’LL ******* GIVE YOU A ****** LIVE TO ****** TOO ! *

D: …Don’t go off the rails to hard

LIGHT: Then, shall we start. My Lord

FELIX: My followers, shout our name! With the reverence and awe you hold within you…

FELIX: We are…. 「Fantome Iris」!

- - - - - - -

FELIX: (As the vampire king who rules over all, FELIX…. To create music that brings joy to my followers, is my own joy)

FELIX: (I long shed my young heart that harbored a feeling of hatred towards vampires. I had indeed parted from it…. yet…)

FELIX: (Yet… lately I seem to have been getting more swayed by my inner thoughts…)

???: (Then that is your weakness.)

FELIX: ( ….!?)

???: (Vampires are beings that drink the blood of living animals. Depleting others of their lifeforce, immersing themselves in the pleasure and exploitation of being that upper class.)

???: (You of all ones should know that so well. Since you’re the 「Child of a vampire」 after all…)

FELIX: ( Shut Up..! How Dare you interrupt this important banquet…!)

 - - - - - - -

HARU: (What’s wrong with FELIX….? He’s acting differently than usual…)

D: (His singing is wavering more than usual… I’d like to assume it’s on purpose but… it doesn’t seem that way)

LIGHT: (My Lord…? no…Feli-san?)

 - - - - - - -

???: (All of it! Take control over all of it! You don’t need to pay any heed to anyone else..!)

???: (If you truly title yourself the king of vampires, then act like one!)

FELIX: (gh… enough… that’s enough!)

 - - - - - - -

[Waiting room/Backstage]

ZACK: I feel like today’s live was kinda off script… Feli-san had this kind of intensity, that wasn’t there previously

ZACK: Intensity that was a little…too much…

D: Yeah…

HARU: …

FELIX: ….gh

LIGHT: Um…Feli-san..? Are you..okay?

 - - - - - - -

???: (You… You’re the king of vampires are you not?)

 - - - - - - -

FELIX: SHUT UP!

LIGHT: …!?

FELIX: ..to…Tomoru..!? I’m.. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to yell I…

LIGHT: a..ah..no… I’m also in the wrong since I called you out of the blue... so...

FELIX: No, No Tomoru you’re not in the wrong. I…I didn’t mean to say that to you and…

D: …Felix, I think it’s best if you went back earlier

ZACK: I… I agree… Your fatigue is really building up so..!

FELIX: BUT I….no…. In this situation I should take everyone’s word for it…

LIGHT: Please do. We’ll clean up everything else after this

FELIX: Je suis désolée…  (I’m so sorry…)

.

--[Felix leaves]--

ZACK: I’ve never seen Felix-san so agitated before… what… what do you think happened…

HARU: ……..

LIGHT: Koharu-san?

HARU: mm? Whats up

LIGHT: No you just have a really serious expression at the moment…

HARU: Is that so? It’s nothing, forget it

D: …. For the time being, we should get ready to clean up

.

[Sharehouse]

Daimon: …where’s Felix?

Jun: He said that he needed some air so he… left for a bit

Daimon: I see…

Tomoru: …um. Both you and Koharu-san, have a suspicion as to why…don’t you?

Koharu: Why do you think so?

Tomoru: I don’t have any proof or anything but… since the incident in the waiting room… that’s just kind of been the vibe I picked up…

Jun: me…Me too! I’m also… worried so…

Jun: o-of course if you don’t wanna say anything I won’t pressure you so..!

Koharu: I see… well yeah, as expected… you guys would notice too

Koharu: It’s not that I have a suspicion… it’s more like…

Koharu: In the past… I had also once seen Feli act out like that…

.

.

—

*Frankly, I’m not exactly sure what ZACK was saying. Interpret the asterisks as you wish.

[wanderlust-psifang]

My Issue with Vampire Organizations and Their Literature

I have an issue with Psychic Vampire Codex, Vampyre Sanguinomicon, and Asetian Bible in particular because all three claim long lineages, primarily with Egypt, with no historical evidence to support their claims. Vampyre Sanguinomicon does not push the Egyptian agenda so much, but they do claim a different centuries old lineage to the strigoi of Romania.

Maybe stop rewritting history to push your agenda and turn around and complain about roleplayers and LARPing within the community. Just a thought if you want to be taken seriously.

It's also a cricle jerk and flame war epidemic, just like with Satanism schism between the Church of Satan and The Satanic Temple. Asetians have a lot of shade to throw on House Kheperu and Michelle Bellanger has a lot of shade at the Temple of the Vampire.

As a former member of the Temple of the Vampire, they have some of the best, and concise, literature on lifeforce vampirism. It is expensive, which was a perk of membership, where you get half off their books and audio programs. On that, like the Church of Satan, they are the only 'real Vampires' all others either stole from them or are just not vampires because they do not follow the Vampire Religion as set forth by the Temple Teachings.

I do like their methods and praxis, but I also am not against blood drinkers which is a high crime in their eyes and leads to immediate excommunication if you are caught even talking to a blood drinker. Sad, because I really did like being part of the Temple.

Aside from the Temple of the Vampire, the other issue is that blood drinking has become taboo in both House Kheperu and the Strigoi Vii as well. As a psi, I shouldn't mind this disparity, but as a vampire identified person, it doesn't make sense. The definition of a vampire is a creature that sustains on the lifeforce of humans through energy draining, sexual intercourse... and blood. You don't have to partake in it, but you should at least not make a big deal of it. This goes for blood fetishism (haematolagnia) as well. Vampires like blood.

I would like the community to be take seriously, but when the suggested reading consists of the Codex and Sanguinomicon, whos politics are based on Vampire: The Masquerade, and the aforementioned issues, it's an absurd battle.

Those books are part of the history of Vampire Culture, so they are important to the community for origin's sake, but we can, and should, also evolve and move past inaccurate and fiction based media.

[savage-rhi]

If you’re wanting a request from the “trauma” prompt list, how about “Is there anything I can do to help?” For Ardyn x Reader

@blossom-adventures coming up! 💙

There was not a single day that passed that Ardyn didn't think about Aera. She was as much a part of him as air was to his lungs; a lifeforce that was needed to sustain what was left of him as a man. That didn't mean the memories of her weren't painful.

Most days Ardyn could handle the trauma of her death. He had no control over her actions, and therefore couldn't have spared Aera the blow of Somnus's sword. She chose to put herself in the line of fire. When Ardyn really thought hard about the day he lost everything, it dawned on him that if Somnus hadn't killed her, Ardyn himself would've. Both brothers were more than determined to rip the other in half. Gods be damned if anyone tried to stop it. Neither of them could be reasoned with once the last straw broke.

The what ifs of the circumstance plagued Ardyn more so than the memory. Accompanied by the 2,000 years worth of hallucinations, and Bahamut rubbing salt in the wound, Ardyn's usual tricks to remain present fell on deaf ears. He called out of work. His duties as chancellor could wait while he tried to regain control.

Ardyn paced around his chambers for most of the day. He would sit down every so often, carding his fingers through his hair. Muscles tensing as flashbacks and the smell of blood heavily lingered in his mind and heart. He was spinning away, unraveling the persona he had worked hard to maintain while working for Niflheim. Soon enough he was screaming at himself. Blaming his misfortunes on the Gods and his own shortcomings as a healer and a man. He had failed so many people who loved him.

Hours later, Ardyn was sitting at the edge of his bed. His amber eyes looked out the window to the city. The sun was setting upon Gralea. The night would come, and he'd be able to roam without feeling the burn of the rays upon the scourge that dwelled under his skin. He felt hollow.

"Ardyn?" Y/N's voice called out. His eyes widened for a split second before turning his head.

"Hm?"

"The food you ordered, it's ready."

"I see." Ardyn replied. He focused his eyes again on the sunset. Ignoring Y/N's footsteps as they approached him.

"I heard you didn't go to work," Y/N began while they stood close to the bed and minded his space. "The staff we're wondering if you were alright."

An unamused chuckle left him. "I'm sure the staff were very much delighted my presence was missing. I'm aware of my less than stellar reputation."

Y/N made a face. "I'm not lying. People were wondering if you were sick."

"Why do you work for me?" Ardyn changed the subject. Not wanting to hear he happened to be today's gossip in court. His eyes closed in on Y/N, gaze narrowing.

"You took a chance on me when the others wouldn't," Y/N was taken back by his sudden question, but answered honestly. "It's been an honor serving you. Helping around where I can, making sure you stay on task. It beats scavenging for food out of garbage on the street. You may have given me work, but I chose to work with you."

Chose. Ardyn thought to himself.

"And why would you do something so ridiculous?" Ardyn countered. His eyes continued to study Y/N, watching carefully as they stepped closer to him.

"Because I can tell beneath your bullshit you're miserable," Y/N said sarcastically "Misery loves company."

Ardyn smirked at the comment. He shook his head and sighed. "I could have you hanged for talking to me in such a manner."

"Well, good luck finding anyone else to do your laundry and secretary work. Word of mouth at Zegnautus Keep is you've outworn your welcome with personal retainers."

There was a long pause before Y/N furrowed their brows and decided to get to the heart of the issue, sensing Ardyn wasn't himself.

"I know you don't exactly care for people, but is there anything I can do to help?"

"Why would I need your help?"

"You're trembling."

Ardyn was puzzled at first, then looked down at his hands that were resting atop his knees. Sure enough, his fingertips were quaking.

"So it would seem."

"Ardyn--"

"Y/N, join me."

"What?"

"Sit by my side."

"Ok..." Y/N furrowed their brows. The request was an odd one, but they complied. There was some hesitance before they took a seat upon the mattress. Their right leg was pressed to Ardyn's left. Y/N turned their head, watching while Ardyn stared forward and blinked a few times.

"Do you know what loss is?"

Y/N didn't answer right away. Their mind combed through the many experiences they had regarding the subject.

"Yeah, yeah I do."

"How do you personally handle the nonsense that comes with it?"

"That's...not an easy thing to answer but," Y/N bit the inside of their lip while thinking it over. "I remind myself the feelings I have, are not permanent. I try to connect with others where I can, especially if I'm dealing with a passing. Not that it's my business, did someone close die today? Is that why you were absent?"

Ardyn glared, casting his gaze elsewhere. "You can say that."

"I'm sorry--"

"Don't be. I don't need the pity."

Y/N refrained from saying anything else, deciding to let Ardyn to take the wheel of the conversation. Given what little they understood regarding his predicament, the last thing he needed was someone telling him what to do. Y/N couldn't recall there being anyone Ardyn was close with in Gralea. Then again he had his secrets. There was a reason he was a man of a million rumors amongst Niflheim citizens.

"Y/N," Ardyn sighed and put his left hand upon Y/N's right knee. He nearly withdrew, feeling them tense from the touch but remained upon seeing they weren't afraid. "Would it be too much trouble to ask for a distraction?"

"No, it wouldn't be a problem." Y/N shook their head. Their eyes briefly glanced at his hand. "What did you have in mind?"

"It's a rather odd request but--" Gods, he was really going to do this. "Would it be alright if I embraced you?"

"You're asking me for a hug?" Y/N couldn't help but let out a small laugh. That was the last thing they ever expected a man such as himself to say.

"You're right, it's pathetic." Ardyn sighed.

"No, no it's not." Y/N grimaced, realizing how callous their tone must've come across. "I just--it was--unexpected, but I have no problem with that. Are you okay with this though?"

"Beg pardon?"

"I mean--you're the chancellor, and I'm kinda at the bottom of the food chain. Is this appropriate?"

Ardyn smiled a little, shaking his head. "It's only inappropriate if I deem it so. In public, it would be another matter entirely. Alas we don't have an audience therefore it's not an issue to begin with."

"Alright, well--" Y/N gestured out with their arms and shrugged before settling them. A small smile graced their mouth. "I'm ready when you are."

Ardyn rolled his eyes albeit in an amused manner. He let the awkward energy between himself and Y/N settle down before making his move. Slowly, and with consideration, Ardyn wrapped an arm around Y/N's waist. He pulled their body into his, leaning his head against theirs. A nervous swallow came and went. Realizing this was the first time in almost 2,000 years since he had hugged anyone. He wasn't sure what to make of it at first, until a feeling of calm began to tide over. He was grounding again, little by little.

Y/N hesitated before wrapping their arms around Ardyn's body, pressing their cheek more into his chest. He seemed to be emboldened by that for they could feel his other hand atop of their head. His fingertips carding against their scalp. This went on for a while. Both remaining still in each other's presence.

"What are you thinking about?" Y/N asked quietly.

"A million things," Ardyn admitted. "And how I used to hold her like this."

Y/N hummed in response. There was a lot they wanted to ask Ardyn regarding the person he had lost. From his cadence, it sounded like it had been years since he had spoken to her. An ex perhaps? It was difficult to be certain, but Y/N knew it wasn't their place to pry. Ardyn would tell them when he was ready, if he ever was.

"She was lucky to have someone powerful like you that cared," Y/N reassured. "And I'm sure she was lovely."

Powerful. Ardyn thought bitterly to himself. He didn't feel so strong recalling the glazed look Aera had while she died in his arms. Even with the scourge and his immortality, Ardyn felt weak like any other man. He was tired. Tired of playing a role in the Gods grand theater. It would be over soon. He had to have patience.

The thoughts drifted away the longer he held onto Y/N. They were alive. He was holding a living person right now, and not the corpse of his beloved. No harm had come to them. The creature comfort of the thought was enough to calm him considerably.

"Yes, she truly was." Ardyn replied softly, his chin resting atop of Y/N's head while his hand retreated from their scalp. The hand snaked around Y/N's body, meeting his other arm that had been embracing them.

"Are you alright with prolonging this?" He asked.

"I'm fine with it," Y/N smiled against him, chuckling for a moment. "At least you smell good. I'm not going to pass out anytime soon."

"Har-har," Ardyn muttered. He too smiled. Maybe. Maybe the last of his days before meeting fate didn't have to be so bad. Especially if he could enjoy something so miniscule like an embrace once more.

If you like my work and feel generous, feel free to donate to my ko-fi account or my cash app account!

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[supergenial]

(translation+lyrics) Nídhögg by OddAi

This one reminds me a lot of Valkyrja which we covered a while ago, I'd say along which Tishtrya that makes the holy trinity for oddai, just insanely banger tracks which feel taken out of an epic boss battle.

While not as popular as Valkyries, Níðhöggr is the dragon in norse mythology which gnaws at the roots of Yggdrasil, an attempt against life itself, you could say it's a bit like Activision. However it also feeds on the dead people who have commited heinous crimes, which is very unlike gaming companies which only acquire very much alive and innocent companies to lay off their employees. Erradicating the souls and bodies of the wicked to turn them into sustenance for its own lifeforce, I guess it's impossible to really say whether Níðhöggr is actually bad or not.

Have a couple requests coming up but every day at work I'm like "I'll do it when I get home" and then I get home and don't even turn on my pc orz. Know that I heard you, I'm just unfortunately a bit busy. Lyrics down below the cut and see you next time, hopefully rather soon.

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

Music : 溝口ゆうま

Vocal ：大瀬良あい

Chi wo hau tami yo nani wo kate ni ikiru? Shikkoku ni odoru konton no yuragi Hizumu Nídhögg

Those who crawl the ground, what do you live for? Dancing in the darkness, swayed by chaos The corrupt Nídhögg

Kuchihateta seimei ga Asu he tsunageru setsuri Fukai fukai yami nomikomu subete Ne wo hamu kiba mushibamu Daremo shirazu ni

Life rots away Such is the providence that weaves the future The deep deep darkness engulfs everything Fangs gnawing at the roots, corroding away Unbeknownst to all

Kami no sai de yureru sekai Fumitsubushita hakoniwa An’nei wo saku konton no ishi Ooinaru nagare

A world at the mercy of dice rolled by the gods The garden is trampled For peace is cleaved by The Will of Chaos As it overwhelmingly flows through

Sono chi wo sasage yo kami naru ryuu no sugata Kongen wo kudaki shuuen wo tsugeru Hizamu Nídhögg Inori wo sasage yo subete wa arishi hajimari no hi he Kaikou wo nozomu shisutemu ni yudane Chi ni shi ni yuku

Offer up your blood to the shape of the godly dragon As it smashes our origins and brings forth demise The corrupt Nidhogg Offer up your prayers, all is for the sake of the day it will all begin Entrust yourself to the system that will bring forth the fateful reunion And perish on this very land

Aa sono sugata wa… Kono sekai no Apoptosis Chi wo hau tami saika ni yudane Mu to nare   Ah… that shape is… The apoptosis of this world Those who crawl the ground surrendering to disaster Becoming one with nothingness itself

Umare kawaru tame…

For the sake of rebirth…

[bigstupid69]

I love your headcanons what kinda horror movies would the choir like - 🐀

Oh boy this is gonna be a lot I bet so I'll put my thoughts under the cut;

I'll give them both horror movie picks relevant to the time period (before and during 2009/8) and ones after

These are all movies I have seen before so I'm sorry about the repeats, and you may not agree.

Ocean

I'm so torn between having Ocean be absolutely terrified of horror movies or being like a horror snob. Y'know the type to criticize unnecessary amounts of violence and gore, and only actually enjoy films if there's some deeper meaning out of it. She seems like those type of insufferable people. Like the female equivalent of the men obsessed with American psycho. She definitely hates most campy horrors and slashers as well as things similar to the saw franchise. I think she'd definitely enjoy some of those genres by picking it apart with a feminist lens though. So I feel like she'd definitely be more of a fan of psychological horror, but definitely stuff that isn't absolutely terrifying to watch like Hereditary.

My picks are; Rosemary's Baby (1968), The Silence of the Lambs (1991), The Stepford Wives (1975)

More modern picks; Last Night in Soho (2021), Midsommar (2019), I'm Thinking of Ending Things (2020)

Noel

People who think he wouldn't like horror movies are completely wrong. Considering his ideals in his monologue, he would probably enjoy films with lots of gore. I think he'd definitely be into the saw franchise with Mischa. He'd also probably enjoy a lot of suggestive and or queer coded films as well. Also probably has a guilty pleasure for cheesy romance driven films, but he would not let anyone know that.

My picks are; Repo the genetic opera (2008), Rocky horror picture show (1975), society (1989), Re-animator (1985), the lost boys (1987), I think he'd also maybe be into the buffy the vampire series (1997-2003)

More modern picks: X (2022), terrifier 1 and , 2 (2016-2022), warm bodies (2013), only putting this here since it ran for a longer time but the vampire diaries (2008-2016)

Mischa

Mischa's "canonically" favorite film is Saw 5, so obviously he'd be into the saw franchise and films like that. I think he'd really just also be into slashers, definitely the kid who dressed up as ghost face for Halloween with the mask that could squirt out blood. I think he'd also like horror comedies quite a bit as well.

My picks are: The saw franchise (canon?), scream (1996), sleepaway camp (1983), Friday the 13th (1980), the evil dead, and evil dead 2 (1981/1987)

More modern picks: The cabin in the woods (2011), the purge (2013), the scary movie series (both modern and time accurate 2000-2013)

Ricky

A mix between cheesy/funny classics and pretty much anything sci-fi. Not sure if he's into that much gore in the films but definitely isn't as picky as Ocean so it's not a complete turn off. Regardless his favorites are pretty much anything sci-fi but he makes exceptions.

My picks are: Rocky horror picture show (1975), little shop of horrors (1986), Alien (1979), lifeforce (1985), mars attacks (1996)

More modern picks: Annihilation (2018), Nope (2022), color out of space (2020)

Constance

I also think she'd really be into horror, she'd definitely be more into campy films and also have a soft spot for classic horror movies from her childhood. She's definitely not innocent and does probably enjoy some more fucked up ones on occasion however.

My picks are: scream (1996), Jennifer's body (2009), Coraline (2009), Shaun of the dead (2004)

More modern picks: Wendell & wild (2022), Anna and the apocalypse (2017), the babysitter (2017), happy death day (2017)

Penny

I feel like she would watch a lot of varying horror movies. she'd enjoy ones she could connect to in a way, but also just enjoy less meaningful ones to her and are just full of camp. Along with Constance she also enjoys a lot of horror movies from her childhood especially because of being slightly detached to it because of everything she's gone through at such a young age. (headcanon but also kinda true)

My picks are: Carrie (1976), Coraline (2009), The shining (1980), all the previously mentioned classic slashers, not a horror film but this is only for my gf; heathers (1988), hocus pocus (1993), child's play series (1988-2019)

More modern picks: Pearl (2022), bodies bodies bodies (2022), Possum (2018), the fear street trilogy

[starlitangels]

Star’s Lore Analyst Brain has been switched on again for the first time in a while hello!

… I’m on the fence about Hush tbh. Absolutely f^&* fascinated, yes

But the calm, clinical way with which he said “eviscerated” with no regret set my teeth on edge immediately. The cool “being tied up against your will” bit didn’t help either

Also yeah no Hush isn’t his real name if he even has one

Though that soundbite of the “complicated answer” sounds about the same (without going back to check) as when Avior channeled E’Laetum and Min’Ara in Cataclysm to grab the Sovereigns out of Aria

Sooo

Obviously I’m thinking there’s something Sovereign about him

Let me kinda talk it out

Not human and not d(a)emon. He doesn’t have a Core and he is capable of wiping memories and empathically sensing emotion. He also referred to the physical plane as Elegy and the Chorus seems to know a lot about him enough to want him dead anyway and consider him some sort of abomination

I suspect he probably has never been to Elegy before but that remains to be seen

The “more and less” is a bit interesting and I’m not sure what to do with that, tbh, but I’m getting to that

And that noise as he leaves at the very end isn’t the typical rift of a d(a)emon

So, here’s where the deep thinking comes in

First of all, he has a lot of demonic traits we all know and understand but outright says he’s not one

“Abomination” to me, makes me think of two things

The first is that the Sovereigns created more than just d(a)emons and Hush is of and from Aria, but not a demon. Rather, some other type of Sovereign creation species/race/something

Or, in being “more and less” human and demon at the same time

Maybe (and this one is extreme speculation because per the rules of the Redactedverse as I understand it, this is quite probably technically impossible) Hush is something of a hybrid between the two. I think it’s safe to say that demons don’t really have “genetics” and “DNA” the way humans do. They have blood in physical, humanoid form, sure, but I doubt it’s made the same way ours is while they’re in physical form because vampires can’t drink demon blood without burning up and, like, turning to ash since it’s pure magic and no one can take that in

Which is why him being a hybrid is probably technically impossible

However, it’s possible he’s a leftover remnant of ancient Sovereign experiments with humanity when they first showed up and he’s a literal fluke but I doubt that because he says to Reticuli (or however the hell that’s supposed to be spelled) “your Chorus has given up on me already?” The “already” bit feels like he is recent and new and not at all ancient. Therefore it’s also possible if wildly improbable that he’s the result of some experimenting of The Chorus

If he is some sort of hybrid, it would explain the “more and less.” More than human for the demon traits he has, less than demon because humans are, canonically, far weaker magic wielders than demons. But humans and demons also have strained relations right now and humans would see him as less than human for being some sort of impossible hybrid, and perhaps having human in him somehow gives him advantages even demons don’t have in some way…

Then there’s the fact that at the beginning of the video he and the Articulate have the same voice modulation effect going on so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I’m really looking forward to his story and seeing whatever new lore we get from this!

This has been Lore Analyst Time with your host, StarlitAngels

Thank you for coming to my TEDtalk

Edit: I just had a thought. What if he’s the creation of the Sovereigns from Death, post-Inversion?

Brachium said there was so much magic and life drained into the River from the attack—maybe enough to create something far stronger than a shade (a glorified pre-recorded message, according to Blake) and new. A demon-like figure made of human magic and lifeforce instead of pure Arcana like demons are made from but not a demon at the same time

Ohhh boy my brain is going!

[ena-113]

♤♡♧◇ This is part two of FaeHyrule-1. Please read that before this. Or don't. ♤♡♧◇

“Ew. Sticky.” The voice of Fay drifted like an omen after being suddenly dropped like a hot potato into another Hyrule.

“Huh?” came the ever so elegant response.

It was weird a non-link was portaled with them. This never happened before.

A moment of confused and awkward silence passed before clarification came. "The surrounding magic: it’s sticky."

This was the answer to the question verbalized, but not the one they all had. Ordon stretched on around them, the eerie lull of night settling in on the heroes.

Twilight began to move and the others followed. All except Fay, who vanished without a sound before they could do a head count.

~

After setting up camp, Fay emerged. He looked slightly uncomfortable as he brushed off seemingly nothing from his tunic and pants and slowly sat to a croutch.

“I suppose it makes sense that you feel so sticky now.” Fay commented, staring right at Twilight.

“Umm… What?”

“What do you mean he feels sticky?” Legend inquired, “If anything I’d say he feels dusty from all the dirt and that pelt, but not sticky.”

“It's the magic. In the air, the ground, the plants, even in Twilight himself. It feels sticky and seems to leave a bit of residue on whatever it touches. It almost feels like eating too much කැරමල් … err, caramel…?”

Wild looked up from his boiling pot at whatever language seemed to resonate and ring in Legend’s head. Four tilted his head with a gleam in his eyes, and Time might’ve reacted based on a small twitch of his hand, but none of the others seemed to react.

“So, “ Fay spoke once more, “Can I have your names? And a possible explanation for this… kerfuffle?”

The chain all looked at each other, then zeroed in on Sky. To his credit, said hero did nothing but blink.

“Oh! Yes, of course! I’m Sky, that's Time, Twilight, Wild, Warriors, Legend, Four and Wind” Sky introduced, pointing to each as he said their names.

Fay expected the tethers of given names, that small twist of magic emulating small candlelights of lifeforce, indicating he now held a thread connected to that person’s existence. What he didn’t expect was how bright and strong the flames would be, not that he'd do anything with them.

“Although, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to tell you those are just nicknames.”

Fay hummed in interest, wondering what made nicknames so powerful, and turned to fully face Sky. The other brought his fancy sword from beside him and onto his lap.

“We’re actually all named Link, “ Sky continued, “Reincarnations of the hero’s spirit from across time. We all fought to save our lands, some of us more than once, but this is the first time we’re doing it as a group. Our current theory as to why we were all gathered is because Hylia needs us all to fight off some big, horrible evil. Though the only evidence we’ve got of that evil are the black-blooded monsters.” Sky seemed saddened by their lack of progress, but tried to hide it with a pleasant topic change.

“Enough about us, care to share anything interesting about yourself?”

Fay hummed, “Well I suppose it's only fair if we trade. I was also originally called Link. I do prefer Fay though. It’s been my name since I met Pond mother. Link never really quite fit.”

“Umm, ” Sky stammers, not sure what, if anything, to say to that. “Okay,” he settles for, the word coming out a bit hollow-sounding.

“So why Fay?” Wind, ever the conversationalist, steamrolls on through the others’ momentary social glitch.

“It’s easier to slip under the radar with. I don’t remember much being Link but sacred sunlight above do you know how worked up people got when they would hear my name? It’s like no one could decide whether I was a plague personified sent by their demons or a god of life that came to rid the world of all inconveniences.”

“Rude” sniffs Wind in a comical and overdramatic charade. Though with a blink, Wind’s face fell into shock.

“Wait! Link!? You’re a Link! Holy fuck no wonder!”

A small, pitiful “language…” came from Twilight. His voice was snuffed out by Wind’s jubilated rambling, though a snort and a couple huffs let him know he was, in fact, heard.

“So I’m guessing we don’t need the whole Fi ceremony?” Warriors joked.

“Good thing too, ” Sky said back in a more exasperated tone than Warriors would expect, “‘Cuz his hero title is Hero of Hyrule and I think that’s just a disaster waiting to happen.”

♤♡♧◇ Plot? What plot? I was supposed to have one of those? And be consistent? Huh? Anywho, my focus is on Hyrule being a fae, not a cohesive world. Juggling all nine of ‘em is hard, blink and you'll miss it time and four. Note: Fae language is google translated Sinhala, it's not accurate or exact in what I want to say. Sorry, it's just pretty. ♤♡♧◇ Kudos to my sister who beta read and helped me get words outa my brain. <3

[takato1993]

Everything I watched this December rated

just going to do some quick rating of everything i watched this December with minimal to no commentary but If anyone wants more commentary feel free to message me about any movie on this list.

( 5 /10 is still average and still fine, 6/10 is above average, 4/10 is below average)

-The Univited 5/10

Jason Goes to Hell The Final Friday 5/10.

In defense of this one I think it would have worked better as a stand alone original movie

Title feels misleading tho now there no room for like a fiery Jason coming straight out of a hell portal embodying and fighting off demons or something like that.

Doctor Mordrid 7/10

Plank Face 5/10

CW torture, castration

The Muppet Christmas Carol 8/10

Predators 8/10

I didn't know there was a 2010 predators movie but It might be my favorite out of the series so far

What The Peeper Saw 3/10

WitchTrap 4/10

Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things 5/10

not what I thought it would be and also vaguely familiar I think this may have been my first exposure to the concept of zombies as a kid.

Jesus Christ Vampire Hunter 6/10

Odd Thomas 6/10

Curse of Crom: The Legend of Halloween 5/10

Curtains 4/10

Neon Maniacs 5/10

Hell Comes to Frog Town 6/10

The Company of Wolves 8/10

Demon Wind 5/10

Lifeforce 6/10

Orphan 9/10

Warm Bodies 7/10

The Dark Crystal Age of Resistance 7/10

Spiderman No Way Home 5/10

I have come to realize that i actually do like the early 2000s Spiderman movies and the flaws in this one really helped me gain this perspective back.

Crash and Burn 6/10

ideal killer robot movie possibly

The Cleanse 6/10

Dark Night of the Scarecrow 8/10

the only scarecrow themed horror movie for me.

Bloody Birthday 6/10

The Visitor (1979) 4/10

National Lampoons Vacation REWATCH 4/10

.... you know what this movie is bad actually

Evil Ed 4/10

Goodnight Mommy (2014) 5/10

CW- torture, dark themes, downer ending

Eaten Alive 3/10

Just Looking 5/10

Dave Made a Maze 6/10

this one was very fun give it a shot

Shivers 4/10

Body melt 5/10

Girls Just Wanna Have Blood 5/10

Ice Cream Man 4/10

The Love Witch (2016) 5/10

Godzilla Vs Kong (2021) 7/10

not gonna lie cried a little at the ending.