#like imagine how much better this season would have been if they actually used misty in the finale beyond THAT moment

[biblicalhorror]

Anyway I can't stop thinking about how much more narratively satisfying it would have been if Walter never existed and Misty was the one to kill Kevyn

#like imagine how much better this season would have been if they actually used misty in the finale beyond THAT moment #imagine a season with ultra-devoted misty utilizes the fullest extent of her citizen detective skills to track down natalie #finding her way to the compound and getting increasingly frustrated with being defanged given the Rules of said compound #when natalies ex lover the cop shows up on their doorstep and OF COURSE she kills him #for natalies sake #even though she never asked for that #but also because hes a cop #so it was for the good of the group right? #then later on in an even more direct attempt to 'protect' natalie she ends up killing her #parallelling the crystal scene even better because we the audience know that killing kevyn was a selfish action #that natalie wouldnt have forgiven her for #but also making it hit THAT MUCH HARDER #when mistys desperate attempts to hold onto natalie and show her devotion directly lead to her death #instead of it just being like a random bit while walter is off killing cops #like idk. i cant help but think the writers were preoccupied this season with making these characters more 'likable' and 'sympathetic' #but thats not what any of us want #i want ruthless calculating ultra devoted misty #i want violent unhinged power-hungry shauna #just. im disappointed but not surprised #yellowjackets spoilers #yellowjackets

[yugirl-with-dragons]

I mean, I know Crow has it's value, but man, Aki was so we'll developed during the Dark Signers's arc and has so much potential as a Signer and duelist. I mean, she was already pretty good and powerful, besides the fact that she was a crazy strong psychic duelist, imagine the creators didn't put her to the side lines. If she composed the main trio, it would make a lot more sense for her to learn how to turbo duel, because she could use the tournament as the first motive to learn from Yusei (and of course become closer to him). This would create a even better bond between them for now she IS an active member of the Team, not a supportive one. Imagine if in the duel against team Unicorn, like instead of "prepare the field for Yusei", she actually win against the two first showing great skill and making Yusei even more proud after using his Stardust masterfully like he knew she would and, in the end, he face the wins and wins more easily because of her. Like so, when Yusei and Jack get more powerful with Clear Mind and Burning Soul, she tries to keep up by learning Clear from Yusei as well, but ultimately fails to because her mind can't be silent enough. This makes Yusei encourage her to search for something even more unique from, something that she can learn from the outside, but the inside. That's right! He encourage her to use her power to full extent. And she struggles with it. So she tries to search on her own how to do it, wich leads her to Misty of all people (who were traveling around helping people in memory of her brother, wich leads her to crash town but that's another story). Then, Misty enlightens Aki about how the power some tool from her to take advantage of, but her very essence, it's, in the end, a manifestation of her being. With that, she can finally but that into action and, in a duel against Misty or even some Iliaster Emperor, she makes full use o her power on Black Rose and a tuner to create (yeah by herself) Ruddy Rose Dragon, wich is why it has an effect that imitates the one of stardust (her love for Yusei). Then the rest is kinda of the same but with Aki as lead, not Crow, including her duel with Sherry, wich is solo this time (making a lot more epic). And the final we see some real romantic faith shipping action because that would be even more plot accurate. But who am I? Just some random dude, with zero writing experience. Bet you could do a even more awesome version of this what if. By the way, please update Crystal Heart, is amazing and I need more o lf that. Have a Nice week!!!

(I still don't know how you get to send asks that are THIS LONG)

One thing is sure, I wish Aki had even more space than what she got, especially after season 2!!! Having her as an active member in the "core" of the team would have been THAT amazing, imho. Poor Crow though hahahaha he still deserves his spot, I'd rather see a 4 people core rather than seeing him OUT

And I'd have paid actual money for seeing Aki bringing Ruddy Rose Dragon on the field with her OWN technique in ANY context, we know that. I'd have loved if she had a rematch with Divine, but that's my story.

(Misty going to Crash Town is a story I'd like to read hehe)

IMPORTANT: CRYSTAL HEART IS GOING TO BE UPDATED VERY SOON WITH A VERY KEY CHAPTER so thank you so much for that!!!!! I appreciate it!!!!! <3 <3 <3

#yugioh 5ds #ask #artzin

[trulymadlysydney]

Scorpio Season: One

Harry is the ghost that haunts the sorority house, Misty is the only one who can see him, and Scorpio season is far too short.

tw: Death

***Do Not Repost Without Permission***

It had started with a simple knock on her bedroom door.

Misty Garland was sitting and reading on her bed the first time she’d heard it.  It was a windy fall day, the slightest bit of sun poking through the clouds every so often.  Her sorority sisters had thought it was the perfect weather to go day-drink over at the Kappa house.  Misty thought she would rather die.

Her knee-jerk reaction had been to call out a soft “Come in!” to the knocking visitor.  But it wasn’t until after the words left her lips that it hit her-- she was home alone.

It wasn’t something that could be passed off as the creaking of the walls of the old house, or the knocking of a branch against the window.  No, it was a clear, distinct knock, as if someone were trying to get her attention.

Intrigued, she’d set her book down and padded barefoot across the floor.  “Hello?” She’d called out half-heartedly, knowing perfectly well that it was in vain.  Cautiously, she’d turned the gold knob and pushed her squeaking door open, only to be met with an empty hallway.  Just as she’d expected.

It should have worried her.  She should’ve been frightened or at the very least, slightly alarmed.  But she wasn’t.  She wasn’t any of those things.  

If anything, she was intrigued.

A slow smile spread across her face as she stepped out into the hallway.  One half of her brain reminded her that this could very well be one of her sisters who’d chosen to stay home instead of blacking out on Strawberitas and Jungle Juice with creepy guys.  If that were the case, however annoying it would be, she decided she’d laugh it off.  Chalk it up to a harmless, albeit immature prank.  She’d get whoever it was back, in tenfold.

However, that was not the case.

After searching the entire house top to bottom, (even going so far as to enter all of her sister’s rooms uninvited) Misty came to the equally exciting and somewhat disconcerting conclusion that she was, in fact, home alone.

For the rest of the evening, she waited for a second knock that never came.  She spoke, whispered, even shouted into the void, calling upon whatever dark spirit that had seemingly taken up temporary residence in her sorority home.

When only half of her sisters returned home that evening (with the other half apparently electing to stay with their respective boyfriends, girlfriends, fuckbuddies, etc) she’d gone back and forth debating if she should mention it to anyone. Ultimately, however, she’d decided that explaining it was not a good use of her time.  So she’d gone to bed early, hoping to hear another knock.

Another knock never came.

It was about a week later that her attention was caught again.  It wasn’t from a knocking, but from a gentle thud against the cold tile of the kitchen floor.

Misty had been in the kitchen, washing the dishes that had been slowly accumulating in her room for the past few nights of mid study-sesh snacks.  The house was fairly quiet that evening, save for the television in the living room and the chattering of gigging girls in the dining room-- obviously doing more chit-chatting than studying.

She’d been zoned out, lost deep in her thoughts when she’d heard it.  Something in the pantry had fallen.  Assuming it was a clumsy sister, she’d turned around to help clean up-- only to find that no one had been there at all.

There it was, though-- a loaf of bread that had fallen from the top shelf and landed in a spot that, according to physics, it wouldn’t have logically been able to land.

Misty glanced around the kitchen nervously, unsure of whether or not she should even dare touch the bread. She cleared her throat, becoming more and more aware of the lump growing there. She willed her brain to come up with something to say, anything, but all she could force out of her mouth was, “I… who…?”

Honestly, she wasn’t sure what type of response she was expecting, so she wasn’t surprised when she was met with none at all.  Her eyes had darted between the bread and the sink, which she’d left running, as her brain tried with all of its might to explain this situation in a logical manner.  

She held her breath, waiting to see if it would move again while her heart pounded loudly in her ears.  There was no way she could have imagined this, because there it sat, plain as the nose on her face.  With a deep breath and another hurried glance around the room, Misty took a step forward, slower than she’d ever moved in her life.  She craned her neck to see if there was anyone in the pantry (of course there wasn’t) and willed her heart to stop thumping so loudly.  Surely there had to be an explanation for this.  Maybe it was a prank.  Maybe she had left a window open and it was windy outside.

A loud laugh came from the dining room then, nearly startling Misty out of her skin.  She gasped, whirling around only to quickly realize that the sound was no more than a sister, laughing at a joke presented by another sister. Because of course.

Misty sighed, shaking her head at herself and rolling her eyes at how jumpy she was.  For heaven’s sake, it was just a loaf of bread.

She walked to the bread, picking it up to return it to its rightful home in the pantry and allowing herself no further thoughts about the incident.  Whatever it was, there was no logical explanation.  And some things, Misty thought, were just better off that way.  She was comfortable not knowing what had caused the bread to fall.  Maybe she would never know.  And she was okay with that.

Or so she thought.

The final time Misty had heard it had been the most prominent sign, and the one thing that had tipped her over the edge.  It was a night not unlike any other, and Misty was tucked up into bed.  She’d elected to keep the window open while she slept, because the weather that day had been perfect-- not hot, but not too chilly either.  The perfect weather to cuddle up under a blanket. Misty loved it.

So there she was, nightlight on and covers pulled up to her ears. The sheets smelled like the lavender spray she spritzed all over her bed each night, and although it was familiar and comforting, she couldn’t help but notice that tonight smelled slightly different.  The sheets smelled almost spicy, like cinnamon, and although it seemed a bit odd, Misty didn’t spare much more of a thought about it as she yawned most ungracefully.

In the spot between sleep and consciousness, Misty’s ears buzzed.  She could feel herself slipping into fully numbed relaxation, her thoughts coming in and out of focus like waves.  She knew she was about to be pulled completely under and slip into a dream that was already beginning to form in her brain… and then she heard it.

“Misty.”

Loud and clear.

Immediately, her eyes shot open.  As her full consciousness came quickly back to her, she sat up in her bed, eyes scanning the dimly lit room for the source of the voice.  Her blood ran cold as she waited in anticipation to see something-- a shadow, a full figure, anything-- but as she lay there, trying to catch her breath, she couldn’t tell whether she was terrified, relieved, or annoyed to be met with absolutely nothing.

“Is someone there?”

The only sound she was met with was her own breathing, and she let out an exasperated sigh.

“Look, I know you’re here,” she said slowly, absentmindedly fidgeting with the sheets as she waited for a response.  “And I’m… not scared of you.”

It wasn’t really a lie, of course;  she wasn’t scared so much as intrigued. Truthfully, even as a little girl this sort of thing had always fascinated her.  She’d always felt she had a special and strange connection to the other side.  But it had been ages since she’d really tapped into it, and now that she was practically face to face (so to speak) with what she assumed--and hoped-- was a spirit, she was feeling, at the very least, overwhelmed.

“Did you hear me?” She asked, voice a bit louder than before.  “I’m not scared.”  Nothing. “You’ve been messing with me for like, a while now.  And I want you to know I hear you.”  Nothing.   “You don’t have to hide yourself.”

And still, nothing.

Misty sighed. “You know, I think it’s pretty rude of you to not introduce yourself.  You just show up and wake me up when I’m almost asleep and then ignore me?  You throw stuff around, you knock on the walls and the doors and stuff, and for what?  Just so you can get a laugh?”

When she was met once again with the deafening sound of silence, she rolled her eyes.  Misty reached up to rub the sleep out of her eyes with a finger and gave her room one last scan before speaking again.  “I’ll get you to talk,” she says, “one way or another.  Don’t think I won’t.”

Nothing.

“This is a threat.”

Nothing.

Misty shook her head, laying back down in her bed and pulling the covers up to her chin.  It really was a threat.  She had read about ways to contact spirits her entire life, but she’d never actually been brave enough to try any of them.  In fact, in all honesty, the thought of doing it now still scared her a bit.  Nevertheless, this spirit intrigued her.  And as Misty drifted somewhat uneasily into sleep once again, she went over the different ways she was going to try and contact them to know once and for all what it was they had to say.

Which is how Misty finds herself where she is now.

Currently, Misty sits alone in the attic of the old sorority house, setting up for a ritual that she’s never been brave enough to try.  The attic is old and a bit stuffy, and Misty coughs as she crawls along the dusty floor into the center of a circle of unlit candles.  In hindsight, Misty realizes that the ritual doesn’t really need to be performed up here, considering that she does have the entire house to herself this evening.  Still, it seems fitting-- the perfect amount of spooky while still being in a somewhat well- lit and cozy area.

The sky outside is a dark blue,  bright enough for her to be able to see her surroundings just barely; and as she glances around in the darkness, she notices that one of the candles in her circle is slightly out of place.  She reaches forward to adjust the candle, then takes a deep breath in through her nose to steady and ground herself before reaching into her pocket for a small green lighter.

“Alright,” she says, reaching forward to begin lighting the candles one by one.  “It’s just you and me here.  And you will show yourself to me one way or another, alright? Nice and easy.”

As she works her way around the circle, lighting each and every candle, Misty prays that the spirit is a kind one.  Maybe a sister from the very beginning of her sorority’s chapter.  Maybe a lost child trying to find their way to the other side.  Maybe--

“OW, fuck!” Misty yelps when she accidentally burns her finger lighting one of the last candles in the circle.  She sticks the finger in her mouth to wet it, then pulls it out and shakes it violently, trying desperately to ease the pain.

Misty sighs in frustration at the slight inconvenience of her throbbing finger, then finishes lighting the final candle in the circle.  She glances around, pleased with her work, before settling herself in the direct center of the candles, cross legged and as relaxed as she can possibly be.

She tries her hardest to calm her pounding heart. Everything she’d read online about this process had highly recommended getting a professional medium-- one who wasn’t going to get anxious and mess up the process.  Misty, of course, did not have access to that.  So here she is.

Taking another deep, slow breath-- in through her nose and out through her mouth-- Misty allows herself to sit in the stillness for a few beats.  She feels her heart rate slow down, and she takes another breath. Reaching beside her quietly, so as not to disturb the peace that is washing over the room, she picks up one of the stones she’s brought up here for protection.

The small stone feels rough and cold in her hand, and she squints down at it to make sure it’s the stone she wanted.  It’s light purple color tells her that it’s an amethyst, and she focuses intently on it for a few moments before taking another long breath-- in through her nose, out through her mouth.

Misty holds the amethyst in her palm, allowing herself to really observe the feeling of it.  She focuses on the weight of the stone in her hand, and the way the cool, rocky underside feels against her sweaty palm.  She tries to focus on the energy she can feel from the rock, envisioning it surrounded in a glowing white light.  She stays like this for a while, and when she’s certain she can actually feel the warm light that she’s envisioning,  she clears her throat gently and speaks.

“I dedicate this crystal to the highest good of all.  May it be used in light and love.”

Misty lets her words hang in the air for a few moments before repeating them, three more times.  After she’s certain her words have stuck, she slowly brings the stone up to her chest.  She allows herself to pause, to really feel the faint thump of her heart and the jaggedness of the stone against her chest.  She takes in another deep breath and closes her eyes.

“I program this crystal for clarity.  For heightened intuition, for protection from evil.  I program this crystal for open communication, and unclouded thoughts. I program this crystal for calmness.”  With one last breath, she speaks her final words-- a repeat of an earlier sentence.  “May it be used in light and love.”

Misty lowers the crystal then, placing it in front of her in a spot where she can always see it out of the corner of her eye.  Programming the crystal did help to ease her nerves, yes, but not entirely.  Seeing it sitting in front of her in her little circle of candles does wonders, however, to remind her to stay calm, stay focused, and stay present.

So, shit, she thinks, she’s done everything she can at this point.  Now it’s time for her to act.

Shot in the dark, she opens her mouth.

“If there is someone in here with me tonight,” she begins slowly, eyeing the room, “will you please show yourself?”

When she is met with silence, she sighs.  “It’s just me here,” she says softly.  “Just me. We have the whole house to ourselves.  I just want to know who you are.  If there’s something I can help you with.”

Misty pauses, and goes to open her mouth to speak again when she sees it.  The gentle flutter of only one of the flames.  If she’d have blinked, she would’ve missed it-- but there it is.  A little wiggle of the flame that deviates from the gentle flicker of the others.  Misty smiles, and lets out a little surprised breath.

“Was that you?” she asks, then pauses.  She doesn’t even realize she’s holding her breath as she watches the flame intently, and when it flickers abnormally again she lets out a pleased laugh.  

“I see,” she says, unable to hide the smile on her face and the pounding of her heart.  “That was easier than i thought it was going to be.  Are you the spirit that’s been messing with me?”

There’s a brief pause, and then the candle flickers again.  Misty can hardly believe her eyes.  “I knew it,” she says, more to herself than to the spirit. She scrambles to think of the next question she’s going to ask, because she wants to hold the spirit’s attention as long as she possibly can.

“Can you do something else to show me you’re here? Maybe like… move two flames instead of just the one?”

There are a few moments of silence, and Misty almost worries that she’s asked too much of the spirit.  She’s about to say a few words of encouragement, to remind the spirit that it’s only her and them in this room, when she sees it.

Every single flame flickers chaotically, in all different directions.  Misty can hardly believe her eyes.

“Oh my god,” she breathes.  “Holy shit.”

Misty swallows thickly as she ponders what exactly is happening.  “Okay,” she says slowly.  “Can I ask you a few questions?”  

There is no response, but Misty thinks nothing of it.  “Who are you?” she asks, then immediately rolls her eyes at herself.  How is she expecting the spirit to identify themselves to her?

“Okay, don’t answer that,” she quickly adds.  “Umm… how can I ask this?”

There’s a creak in the floor, as if someone were stepping closer to her, and it makes the hair on her arms stand up. She licks her lips as she tries to keep herself calm.

“Okay… um… are you a ghost? One flame for yes, two for no.”

She feels stupid for asking that, but she isn’t really sure how else to ask.  She stares at the candles almost a little too intently, and scoffs when one of the flames flickers.

“Should’ve figured that,” she mutters, “sorry.”

Misty notices that one of the candles is slightly out of place, and she reaches forward to adjust it.  Just as she does, however, she is overcome with the sense of feeling insanely cold. She gasps, retracting her hand quickly, and the air in the room becomes tense.

She clears her throat as she processes what she just felt.  “Was that you?”

There is no response, but the thickness of the air does resolve a bit.  Misty settles appprehensively back down into her comfortable position before changing the subject.

“How long have you been dead?”  she tries.

There’s a brief moment, and she considers rewording her question, when she notices that four different flames flicker in succession, one right after the other.  “I see…” she says,  “So four years then?”

There is no response, and Misty thinks about their answer.  “That’s not very long,” she says, frowning.  “This must be a pretty fresh death, no?  I’m sorry.”

One of the flames wiggles, almost sympathetically, and it makes Misty giggle.  In all honesty, she’s feeling completely comfortable with this spirit.

“Look,” she says, relaxing her posture a bit.  “I wish I was better at this.  Truth be told, I’ve never really…. talked to a ghost before? So like, I hope I’m doing this right.  I wish I had a better communication system though.”

The flame that wiggled gently before suddenly begins to shake with more vigor, burning brighter and somewhat bigger than it had before.  This catches Misty’s attention.

“Do you have something you’d like to say?” She asks, and the flame grows slightly larger.

“You’re free to say it,” she says, moving to tuck her knees under her butt.  “Like I said, it’s just you and me in here.”  She watches the flame dance, enthralled and fascinated by its movement.

“Why me?” she asks, and another flame begins wiggling violently as well.  “I mean… why have you contacted me?  Surely you have something to say.”

A third flame begins shaking, and Misty is growing a bit anxious.  “I know you have a voice,” she says, her own voice a bit louder now.  “I’ve heard it.  You woke me up the other night.”

Misty’s eyes dart from one flame to the next, willing herself not to panic at the way the flames seem rather large.  Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the reflection of the flames on the glassy edges of her amethyst, and she thinks perhaps she should reach for it to remind her to stay grounded, stay calm, stay focused.

Just as she raises her hand to reach for it, however, a fourth flame grows larger in size.

“What are you trying to tell me?” she asks, growing a bit frustrated.  “I don’t know how else to help you other than--”

Misty is cut off when she sees the amethyst move, ever so slightly.  She freezes in her tracks.

She wants to pass that off as a trick of the lights, but there’s no way she can.  She saw it move, plain and simple.  Not to mention she’d heard the soft scratching of the stone moving against the wooden floor.

When Misty looks up, almost all of the candles are flickering aggressively.  She gasps, completely panicked now.

“Show yourself!” she blurts out.  “I know you’re here, I know you have something to say!”

She watches the flames intensify, and she almost considers abandoning this entire mission and blowing them all out right here.

“Why are you doing this?” she asks.  “Just… say something!”

In somewhat of a trance by the way the candle lights flicker, Misty feels her heart rate increase as she stays stuck, frozen against the wooden floor.  That same smell of cinnamon as before fills her nose, and she swallows thickly around a dry throat.  “I--” she nearly chokes on her words.  “Why are you trying to scare me?” she shouts.  “I said, say something!”

Still nothing.  Now she’s growing increasingly more impatient.

And then it happens.

With a sudden gust of air Misty is shoved, and all of the air in her lungs is let out with a forceful grunt.  The candles are extinguished all at once, and the room instantly grows a stuffy sort of dark.  The moon shining brightly in the window somehow fills Misty’s stomach with anxiety and dread, not relief.  She swallows thickly, taking a few moments to gather her wits and straining her eyes against the thick blackness surrounding her.

The stillness of the room is alarming, and Misty’s heart pounds aggressively against her rib cage.  It isn’t until her lungs start burning that she realizes she’s been holding her breath for fear of breaking the silence, and she lets it out slowly and cautiously.  

With a shaky hand she reaches forward until she feels her lighter once again, and she flicks it on. She can hardly see in the dimly lit room, but her eyes begin to adjust, and she glances around herself nervously.  “Who are you?”

“It’s about time, sunshine.”

The voice comes from behind her and startles her so much that she jumps, flinging the lighter halfway across the floor and bathing the room in darkness once again.  Shit.

“Ohh,” coos the voice, deep but unthreatening.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.  Here.”

Misty feels a brush of cold air that causes the hairs on her arms to stand up before, one by one, each candle in the room flickers alive once again.  Her jaw trembles as she tries to find the source of the voice in the now illuminated room.

“I thought you weren’t scared,” the voice says again, now coming from a different direction.

“I wasn’t,” she says, then swallows around the dryness of her throat.  “I’m not.”   It’s a complete lie, but she doesn’t want to let her guard down now.

The voice is raspy and deep, but friendly, and a thick, honey drip of a british accent coats the noise sweetly.  “That’s a lie,” it says, and it sounds like a man.  A pouty man at that.  “You weren’t so afraid of me before.  Now you’re shaking.”

“You just startled me, that’s all.  Where are you?”

“Well, I’m not going to show you if you’re going to be scared.”

Somehow, his words aren’t comforting.  Still, Misty isn’t a quitter.  “What is there to be scared of?  Are you a ghost?”

“I am.”

She smirks.  “Are you an ugly ghost?”

This time, he scoffs. “Hardly.”

“Well!” Misty says.  “Someone’s full of himself, isn’t he?”

“I’m not!” he insists, and he sounds closer now.   “It’s just that you spoke a big game before. Now I’m not so sure you’re ready for this after all.”

Misty sighs, growing increasingly more irritated by the second.  “If I wasn’t ready for this, I wouldn’t have summoned you.  I thought you were intriguing before.  Now you’re just annoying.”  She moves like she’s going to stand, and suddenly feels another gust of cold air on her arm.

“Wait!”  He sounds as though he’s right in front of her now, and she’s overwhelmed by his cinnamon scent.  “I’m not trying to be annoying.  I just… want to make sure you’re ready for this.”

“I told you I am,” Misty huffs.  She gestures vaguely around the room.  “Your words are scaring me more than any of this did.  Why wouldn’t I be ready to see you?”

“I don’t know,” he says softly.  “Just… sometimes people don’t know how to respond when they see their first manifestation.”

“I’ve seen a ghost before, dude.”

Now, it’s his turn to sound intrigued.  “Have you?”

“M-hm.  I’ve always been able to sense these kinds of things.”

“But have you seen one?”

“Shadows mostly.  Or I heard voices.”

“But a physical manifestation--”

“You don’t count shadows?”

“Of course I do.”  There’s a noise, and it sounds as if the spirit has just sat down.  “But I’m not a shadow.”

“What are you then?”

“I’m a different type of ghost. Did you know there are several types?”

Misty leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees.  “I mean yeah, of course, but I had always just assumed you all showed yourselves as shadows.”

“Not all of us.  I mean, we can-- but it isn’t natural for me.  I’m not sure we’ve got an actual name for me, but there are many out there like me. We’re a certain type of intelligent ghost that can physically interact with the linear time and space around us.  Usually we’re harmless.”

“Are you harmless?”

Once again, she can practically hear the spirit’s smile.  “Usually.”

“So… when I see you, you’ll look like, what, just a regular dude?”

“Yeah, more or less.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.  Why are you hyping this up so much?”

“I don’t know! It’s been a long time since I’ve manifested in front of someone!”

“Ah.” Misty grins.  “So you’re the one who isn’t ready.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“It’s why you’ve been stalling for so long. You wanted my attention so badly, and now you’ve got it.  So show yourself.”

“Fine,” he huffs.  “There’s no need to be pushy.”

Silence follows his words, and Misty stares blankly ahead-- waiting for something to happen.  She shakes her head slowly and shrugs.  “I don’t…. Get it....”

“Turn around.”  

Once again, Misty jumps out of pure surprise when the spirit’s voice comes from behind her.  She whirls around almost too quickly, nearly losing her balance despite being seated.  The minute she sees him standing calmly behind her, she rises.

She takes a moment to really just look at him.  She’s not sure what exactly she’d been expecting; maybe a glowing transparent blob of a young man from the early 1900s, or, worst case scenario, a perfectly normal looking guy who just happened to have a very visible axe lodged into his brain (or some other indication of his death)-- but in any case, he doesn’t look like anything she’d been anticipating.  He looks like any other guy she’d see walking around on campus, and if it weren’t for the hardly visible glow outlining his body, she’d assume this was a new Kappa pledge pulling a prank on her as part of his hazing.

He’s got shaggy brown hair that hangs from his head in curls that frame his face and his ears.  His eyes are blue-- or are they green?  Misty isn’t close enough to be able to tell, and truthfully she’s still a bit apprehensive about befriending a dead guy, so she stays put.  Whatever color they are though, they’re beautiful.  He’s not floating-- she doesn’t know why she’d been expecting him to-- but standing flat on his feet he’s still taller than her.  He’s one of the prettiest people she’s ever seen, and it makes her feel faint (although she blames that on the fact that she’s face to face with someone who’s died).

“I’m Harry,” he says slowly.  He’s calm, but he’s unsure.  He watches her as if waiting for some type of earth-shattering reaction.  The less she moves, the more nervous he becomes.  When she doesn’t say anything, he speaks again.  “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

For someone who isn’t alive-- Misty can’t seem to get over that fact-- he dresses remarkably well.   He honestly does look like a Kappa brother, and it weirds her out.

“How did you do that?” She frowns at herself.  That was the first thing she could think to say?

Harry laughs, relieved that she’s seemingly so calm. He shrugs.  “Dunno.  Just something I can do.”  He takes a step towards her and, instinctively, Misty takes half a step back.

This time, Harry smirks, but he doesn’t move closer.  “Are you still scared?”

“I was never scared!” Misty groans.

“Just startled then.”  There’s a twinkle in his eyes, and now Misty can see that they’re clearly green.

Misty rolls her eyes.  It’s impossible to stay annoyed at him when he’s looking at her like this.  “Fine!” she sighs.  “I’m a little scared.”

“Ha!”  Harry beams jubilantly.  The smile fades just as quickly as it came, however, and he frowns.  “Why are you still scared?”

“I don’t know! I’ve just never done this before.”

The bright smile returns to his face, softer this time, and Misty-- though still apprehensive-- relaxes a bit.  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says gently.  

“I didn’t think you were,” Misty replies.  “But I also don’t know why you wanted my attention so badly.”

Harry shrugs.  “Because.  I think you’re pretty.”

It’s so straightforward that Misty is taken aback, and she scoffs.  “What, seriously?”

“Yeah.”  Harry blinks back at her, standing by his words completely and keeping that air of smugness about him.

Misty waits for a further explanation, but when Harry only stares back at her and raises his eyebrows, she realizes that she isn’t getting one.  She laughs in disbelief.  “So you went through all this trouble…. Just to tell me I’m pretty?”

“Suppose so.”  Harry’s head cocks a bit to the left, and it’s the first time that Misty notices the endearing little dimple on his cheek.  She doesn’t know why he flusters her so badly, but she feels her cheeks heating up when she realizes that yes, he’s telling the truth.  He really did just want to tell her she was pretty.

Misty’s hand comes up to comb through her hair and she swallows thickly. “Oh.  Well.  Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The silence that follows isn’t awkward, but it’s tense.  The air is thick with tension, in fact, and Misty wonders if it’s possible to flirt with a ghost.

Harry clears his throat.  “Anyway. If you want me to leave you alone--”

“No!” Misty responds, almost too quickly.  “I don’t.  Not at all.”

“You don’t?”  Harry beams back at her, and Misty realizes that he really is just as nervous as she is.

“I don’t,” she replies.  “But, I mean-- are you just gonna live here from now on?  In the attic?”

Harry laughs, a tinkling noise that sends butterflies straight to the pit of Misty’s belly. “I live in this house one way or another.  Have for several years.  It’s just that I can only show myself at a certain time of year.”

“But why is that?”

“You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”  Harry laughs, taking another cautious step towards Misty.  When she doesn’t retreat, he relaxes and fully closes the gap between them.   Once again, the smell of cinnamon fills Misty’s nose.  Slowly and decidedly, Harry reaches forward to touch her arm and the instant his hand comes in contact with her skin, she is flooded with goosebumps.

His skin is cold, but not as cold as she was expecting. Although honestly, she wasn’t expecting to be able to make tangible contact with him at all.  But she can feel it so clearly-- five fingertips trailing comfortingly along the skin of her arm with the gentleness and intention of a lover.  Five perfectly groomed fingernails that show no indication of death.  Standing this close to him, she can make out the details of his face; a little scar on his neck, a small freckle on his lip, soft smile lines around his eyes.  Misty shivers-- partly because of the coldness of his touch, but mostly because it’s been ages since she’s stood this close to someone so beautiful.

His fingers trail down to her hand, and then more specifically, the one finger she burned.  She’s almost in a trance as he brushes his cold fingers against the stinging patch of skin, and in an instant any pain she felt in the throbbing finger is now gone.

Misty glances from her finger, then back to Harry, who’s smiling the most tender smile she’s ever seen.  “How…?” She begins slowly.

Harry lets out a sigh, and Misty realizes they’ve just been staring at one another.  “Don’t worry about it, sunshine.”

Misty practically melts into his touch, and she isn’t sure if he’s got a spell on her or what, but she has the overwhelming urge to kiss him now.  She swallows, then opens her mouth to speak before Harry cuts her off.  “Your sisters are home.”

“What?”

She doesn’t have time for answers, however, when through the attic window she sees the blue mini cooper of one of her sorority sisters pull up to the curb.  She watches the car for a moment.  “How did you--”

But when she turns to finish her question, Harry is gone.

------

The following day, Misty finds herself bundled up and sitting in her favorite spot on campus, despite the chill in the air.  She’s sitting on the cold grass against a large rock, overlooking a tiny stream that runs throughout the entire small town. She knows it won’t be long before the stream freezes over, so, despite the cold weather, she’s brought herself here to read and listen to the babbling water while she still can.

Harry hadn’t showed up for the rest of the night last night, which had led Misty to wonder if she’d dreamt the entire thing.  It had kept her up most of  the night, and when he still hadn’t appeared this morning, she knew she had to do something to get her mind off of him.  

Which is how she’s found herself here now.  Most of her homework for the week is done, so she’s decided to spoil herself by grabbing her favorite coffee at the shop she frequents and a new book at the library before heading to her spot.

It’s a brisk October day, and the Halloween decorations hanging from the campus houses flutter in the chilly wind. Misty wraps her scarf a little tighter around her neck and snuggles further into her coat as she turns the page of her book.

“There you are.”

Misty jumps, nearly spilling her coffee, when she hears it.  The thick, British drawl she’s been so desperately craving to hear all morning comes from behind her, and she whirls around to see Harry, in the exact same outfit he’d been in last night, smirking at her.

“Stop doing that!” she hisses.  Despite her grumpy tone, she scoots over when Harry makes his way to sit beside her.  She feels immediately comforted when she smells the cinnamon that comes with his presence.

Harry chuckles, plopping into the grass. “Sorry.  Didn’t mean to.”

“It’s about time you showed up,” Misty huffs, putting her finger between the pages of her book to mark her place.

The smirk on Harry’s face is so smug that Misty wants to slap it off of him.  “You’ve been expecting me?”

This throws Misty off guard, and her cheeks go hot.  “Well, yeah,” she says, trying to maintain her attitude. “I mean, don’t you think you owe me an explanation?”

Harry laughs.  “No, I don’t.”

“Seriously?”  Misty rolls her eyes.  “You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

“Not a person,” Harry states.  “I’m a ghost.”

“Well whatever you are, you’re annoying.”  

“Thank you.”  Harry nods towards the book in her hands.  “What are you reading?”

Misty doesn’t answer him, suddenly far more self-conscious than she’d been before.  He reaches out to take the book and pulls it closer to himself to read the title aloud.

“‘When Ghosts Speak: Understanding the World of Earthbound Spirits.’”  He snorts.  “Seriously?”

“Well if you won’t tell me anything, I have to figure it out myself.”

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know!” Harry says, relaxing against the rock and stretching his feet out in front of him.  “Fire away.”

Misty eyes him for a moment.  “You’re not kidding?”

“I’m an open book.”

She takes his sudden burst of confident vulnerability and considers the questions she wants to ask.  There had been so many in her head since he’d disappeared last night, but now that she’s on the spot, she’s blanking.

Misty clears her throat.  “Alright.  I’ll start off easy.  How are you here?”

Harry smiles.  “I can go anywhere I want to.  Just like you.”

“Can anyone else see you?”

“If I wanted them to.  But I don’t.”

Misty looks around, suddenly nervous that anyone nearby might hear her speaking and think she’s talking to herself.  Luckily, she seems to be the only person crazy enough to willingly subject herself to this weather.  So she turns back to Harry.

“So then why did you wait for me to summon you?  Why didn’t you just show yourself?”

“That’s where it gets tricky,” Harry responds. “I can only manifest during a certain time period every year.  But in order to manifest at all, I have to be invited first.  After I accept the invitation, I’m free to come and go as I please until the end of the season.”

“So you’re going to be a pest for this entire fall then?”  Despite her words, Misty smirks.

Harry matches her wit and chuckles.  “No, not that kind of season.  Scorpio season.”

“Oh god,” Misty groans.  “You’re an astrology freak, aren’t you?”

Harry snorts.  “Look, I didn’t make the rules.  That’s just the way it is.  When Scorpio season starts, I can show myself.  When it ends, I leave.”

“Where do you go?  When it ends, I mean.”

Harry shrugs.  “I dunno.  Nowhere bad.  It’s just kinda… nothing.  I can’t explain it.”

“Is it scary?”

Harry considers her words, then shakes his head.  “I… really can’t explain it. It’s not scary.  It goes by fast.  I just kind of… sleep, I guess.  Nothingness.” A sudden thought dawns on him, like he’s remembering something.  “But! I can pop into people’s dreams while I’m there.”

“You can?”

“Yup.  I don’t do it too often, just because it takes a lot of my energy, but I’ve seen some pretty interesting things, I’ll tell you that.”

Misty doesn’t say anything, and Harry lets her sit in silence while she processes his words. He knows it’s a lot, and he knows he would be weirded out if he were in her shoes.  So he watches her, trying to gauge her reaction.

Finally, she turns to him.  She doesn’t look nervous, but something is on her mind. “Can I ask you something… a little more personal?”

“Anything.”

“Okay.”  Misty takes a deep breath, focusing her attention on the birds hopping around nearby.  “How did you… die?”

“How did I die?”  Harry repeats her question, then blows out all of his air in a puff.  “It’s not anything exciting.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,  I just--”

“No, no!” Harry holds up his hand.  “I don’t mind.  It’s just… anticlimactic I suppose. And you’re probably going to laugh.”

Misty leans closer, a serious look spreading across her face.  “I wouldn’t dare laugh about someone’s death.”

“No, you will,” Harry says, smiling to himself.  “It’s kinda funny.”  He takes a deep breath, preparing to tell the story.  “I fell off the roof of your house.”

Harry laughs, but Misty doesn’t find it funny at all.  “That’s horrible, Harry.  How did you--”

“While having sex.”

Misty stops her sentence dead in its tracks, and a new look of pure surprise blossoms on her face.  “You…”

Harry sighs, launching into the story.  “A few years ago, your sorority was throwing a Halloween party.  I wasn’t into Greek life but a few of my mates dragged me along.  I was already pretty drunk by the time we got there, right, so all bets were off.  Well, I met this girl, right?  Never even learned her bloody name, but I guess she was a sister.  Made eyes at me from across the room and it was over.  Drank some more, chatted her up, and then we decided ‘hey, might as well.’  Only, all of the bedrooms were taken.  So then, she had the brilliant idea to go up on the roof.  It was raining so, you know, in hindsight we should’ve known better.  But we were drunk and horny and stupid. So we went up, started going at it, slipped, and uh… splat.  So to speak.”

Misty doesn’t know how to respond, and Harry doesn’t expect her to.  He just chuckles.  “Found me with my pants around my bloody ankles,” he continues. “ Not a very dignified way to go is it?”

“That’s awful.”  Misty frowns.

“Eh.  What can you do? Apparently the girl lived but she felt so guilty that she dropped out of school and moved away.  I guess no one’s heard from her since.”

“You don’t think she did it on purpose, do you?”

“Oh, nah.  No way.  It was an accident.”

“I’m sorry to make you talk about it.”

“I don’t mind talking about it,” Harry replies.  “All I can do is laugh about it at this point.”

“Well,” Misty says, shifting her position against the rock.  “I still don’t think it’s funny.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Can I ask you something else?” she asks, changing the subject.

“Mm?”

“Why me?  Like, what was it about me that made you decide ‘Ah, yeah, she’s the one I’m gonna haunt?’”

Harry smiles, crossing his foot over his opposite leg and resting his ankle to his knee.  He gives her question a moment of thought before responding.  “Told you.  Think you’re pretty.”

Misty rolls her eyes but the smile that forms on her lips is undeniable. “That’s seriously it?”

“I mean,” Harry says slowly, absentmindedly shaking his foot back and forth.  “Yeah.  Been stuck at that house for the past, what, four Scorpio seasons now?  You’re the first girl I’ve seen who’s caught my attention.”

“Ew, so you like, spy on us?”

Harry snorts.  “No, god, I’m not a perv.  But, you know, I live there, too, so.  Sometimes I’ll join in for movie night.  Or game night.  I also pop in to the occasional party.  But I don’t spy.”

“Good,” Misty says.  “Although I don’t even think you’d find anything juicy anyway.  They’re a bunch of duds.”

“Can I ask you something now?”  Harry’s got an intrigued smile on his face.

“Yeah.”

“Why did you join a sorority?  You seem to hate everything about it.”

Misty sighs.  “I don’t hate it,” she says slowly. “I mean, it definitely wouldn’t have been my first choice for like, extra-curricular activities.”

“So why then?”

“I’m a legacy,” she replies.  “My mom and my grandma were both Beta Sigmas. They would’ve killed me if I didn’t.”

“Is it really that serious to them?”

Misty smirks.  “For someone who lives in a sorority house, you sure know nothing about sorority girls.”

Harry’s laugh is sudden and it makes Misty’s heart warm despite the coldness of his presence.  “It would appear so.  Jeez.”

The two fall silent for the next few moments, residual giggles dying off into happy sighs.  It’s obvious that they both enjoy one another’s company, and Misty is ridiculously glad that he’s come back to check up on her today.

After about a minute of silence, however, another question pops into her head.  “So.  You’re a Scorpio then?”  

Harry laughs, shaking his head. “I’m not, no.  Or, I wasn’t, when I was alive.”

“Why Scorpio season then?”

“Because it coincides with spooky season, I guess. Or maybe because I died at a Halloween party?  I don’t know.  I didn’t make it up.”

“What are you then?  What’s your sign or whatever?”

Harry smirks.  “Guess.”

“Taurus.”

He shakes his head.  “Guess again.”

“Leo.”

Harry makes a face now.  “No.  God, a Leo?  Who do you think I am?”

Misty giggles. “I don’t know! I don’t know shit about astrology!”

“Obviously.”  Harry snorts.  “I’m an Aquarius.”

“Is that good?”

“It’s the best.”

“Great.”

Harry giggles, letting the conversation naturally fizzle out before starting his next sentence.  “Misty?”

It’s the first time she’s heard him say her name to her face, not just in her ear late at night while she’s trying to sleep, and it fills her with butterflies yet again.  “Hm?”

“I’m glad you’re not, like, scared of me.  Really glad.”

Misty giggles.  “I am, too, honestly.”

“Even though you were scared in the beginning.”

Misty’s smile turns into a scowl, but there is still a playfulness in her eyes and in her tone that makes Harry laugh.  “I wasn’t. I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”  Harry scoots the tiniest bit closer to Misty and nods at her book.  “So.  Tell me what’s going on in your book.”

-----

Harry just might be the most annoying person-- or rather, entity-- that Misty has ever come across in her entire life.

And she can’t get enough of him.

They’d spent a good portion of their days together throughout the past week, with Harry lingering around longer and longer each day.  Misty didn’t mind, of course, and she welcomed his company.  By the fourth day of spending time together, they were chatting as if they were the best of friends.  Misty had learned about Harry’s life prior to coming to this school, about his mom and his sister and how he checked in on them via their dreams whenever he could. She learned about what he’d been studying prior to his death, and what he wanted to do with that degree.  And Harry answered each and every one of her questions with patience (and usually a snarky remark), which Misty loved.

In turn, Harry had learned much of the same information about Misty’s life, and he found her fascinating.  He asked her just as many questions as she asked him, and whenever she called for him, he showed up.  He loved it every time.

He’d manifested in the kitchen this morning as she was pouring herself a cup of coffee, and he’d followed her around like a child while she tried to find something decent for breakfast.  She hadn’t acknowledged him much, for fear of any of the other girls noticing, but she did manage to sneak him a few sleepy grins that he found himself melting for every time.

He’d then followed her up to her room, where he chatted with her while she crunched away at a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios.  They’d discussed her plans for the day and he’d asked her if he could stay with her (although truth be told, he didn’t really have to ask; he knew she’d say yes anyway).

It hadn’t been a very busy day by any means.  Misty had had a few errands to run (which Harry had found unbelievably boring and dipped out of, promising her he’d be waiting for her at home).  Presently, Misty finds herself sitting on her bed, laptop resting comfortably on her thighs, while she types away at a book report that she has due at midnight.

Harry had offered her his help, which she’d taken him up on, but Misty soon came to find out that the word ‘help’ in his case was used very loosely.  Harry had elected instead to continuously chat and distract Misty, and each distraction was met with a protest from her… as well as her deepest insight on whatever topic Harry had decided to bring up.  Truth be told, Misty welcomed the distraction.  She loved picking his brain, and he hers.

Currently, Misty types away mindlessly, while Harry sits quietly at the foot of her bed flipping through one of Misty’s old yearbooks.  Every now and again he’ll marvel at something in the yearbook, or he’ll tease Misty about her braces or tell her she looked cute during spirit week.  “‘Nerd Day’ huh?  Suits you.”  

After Harry has been particularly quiet for a while, however, Misty starts to get suspicious.  

She glances up from her work to find Harry staring at her, a mischievous grin that she hates to love tugging at his cheeks.  

“What?” she says, subconsciously squirming under his gaze.

He only blinks, hardly bothering to look away or wipe the smirk from his face.  “Sorry.  Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Don’t know if I should say…”

This makes Misty’s cheeks grow hot, though she tries her hardest to cover it up.  “Harry don’t be an idiot.”

Harry chuckles, using his finger to mark the page of Misty’s yearbook that he’s currently on.  “It’s nothing bad,” he says casually.  “It’s fine.”

“Then stop staring at me,” Misty says with a smile.  “Creep.  If you have something to say then say it.”

Harry grins, reaching down to wiggle his fingers against the underside of her foot.  “I do, actually.  I have an idea.”

Misty lowers her laptop screen just a tad so she can see him better before speaking.  “What kind of idea?”  

The smile on her face and the narrowing of her eyes tells Harry that she’s in before she even knows his idea, and he has to contain his giggles as he speaks.

“You wanna play a prank on your sisters?”  He asks.  “Just to spook them a bit.  ‘Tis the season and all that.”

“What kind of a prank?”  Misty sits up, leaning closer to Harry and lowering her voice excitedly.

“I don’t know,” Harry says, “maybe like… I could throw some stuff around.  Make a few noises.  Pretend to possess you.”

Immediately, Misty is intrigued.  She gently tosses the laptop to the side and beams.  “Shit, you think we should?”

“I do,” Harry says, a twinkle already forming in his eye.  “Obviously we’ll have to work out the details, but yeah.  Something like that.”

“Pretend to possess me,” Misty says, “do it.”

Harry raises his eyebrows.  “Someone’s a bit eager, aren’t they?”

Misty rolls her eyes, but the embarrassed little smirk on her lips doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry.  “Not like that,” she says, then tacks on a mumbled and affectionate “stupid.”

“Not like what?”  Harry wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, purposely making Misty squirm.  She laughs and tosses a pillow at his face.

“Nevermind,” she says through a grin, “I don’t even want to do this anymore.”

“Liar,” Harry says.

“Brat,” Misty replies.

Harry’s eyes twinkle.  “I take it that you’re in, then.”

“I guess,” Misty says. “Don’t look so smug.”

“You’re cute when you’re annoyed with me,” Harry says casually, and it takes Misty a moment to even register what he’s said.

Misty feels the heat rising in her cheeks at his words, and as flustered as he’s made her, she bounces back quickly.  “I must be adorable all the time then.”

Harry shrugs.  “You said it, not me.”

“Anyway,” Misty says, desperately trying to change the subject to cover up how giddy he’s making her,  “what did you actually have in mind?”

Harry smirks.  “How good are your acting skills?”

---

Coincidentally, tonight is movie night among a few of the girls and their boyfriends. Which,  Misty and Harry had quickly realized, was the perfect setting to execute their plan.

It’s 8:30pm, and Misty is sitting on the couch under a blanket, snuggled between a few other sisters.  There are sisters scattered around the entire living room, some cuddled up with their respective partners and some without. Everyone has alcohol of some sort; Misty herself is about a glass and a half of wine in, and she’s actively trying to ignore the thoughts about how badly she wishes Harry were sitting beside her on the couch.

Especially since she’s the only one who can see him right now, sitting so casually in the corner of the room, eyes glued to the screen like everyone else’s, and looking so, so handsome.

If Misty didn’t know any better she would think he was just another one of the guys, and for a moment she allows herself to indulge in the make-believe world in which Harry is her boyfriend who has come over to join the girls for movie night.  In her mind, he’s just gotten up to get Misty a bottle of water, but got so interested in the film that he ended up just sitting down to finish the scene.

It’s selfish, Misty knows.  But seeing him like this, so casually cute, makes her heart hurt.  Obviously she’s got things way easier than Harry, considering she is the only one between them with a beating heart.  But she has to wonder if it gets lonely in his world.  He can only visit his loved ones through dreams.  He can only show himself for a month out of the year.  Even now, he sits alone in the corner of the room, far from everyone else.

He had joked about it earlier, saying the reason he sat so far away from everyone was because the spot he was in gave him the best seat of the house every time.  However, a few moments later he’d admitted that the actual reason was because he didn’t want to make anyone cold and ruin the fun.  He’d given her a soft smile and brushed that statement off with yet another joke, but it had broken Misty’s heart.

As if sensing her thoughts, Harry turns just in time to catch Misty staring at him, and he grins immediately.  

“Stop staring at me, creep.” He winks at her.

For a full five seconds, Misty is terrified that Harry’s just blown his own cover.  She tenses up, glancing around the room in shock just waiting for someone to say something about hearing a voice.  When she realizes, with confusion, that not a single person has moved, Harry speaks again.

“Don’t worry, they can’t hear me.  Only you.”

Misty glances back at Harry, wanting to say something back but knowing she can’t, and he grins.  “God, I bet it’s killing you, not being able to talk back to me.  I could have some fun with this.”

When Misty shoots a subtle glare in Harry’s direction, he gasps.  “If looks could kill,” he says, shaking his head.

Misty wants to laugh and throw something at him and fight back but she knows she can’t, and he’s right, it is killing her.   She cracks her neck gently from side to side, in an attempt to relax herself, and Harry laughs.

“Alright, I’ll have mercy.  Are you ready to get started?  Or are you super into the movie?”

Misty’s face goes into a completely deadpan expression as she glances at Harry, as if to say “really?”  How on earth is she supposed to answer that?

“Oh,” Harry chuckles.  “Uh, blink once if you want me to start.”

Misty blinks as subtly as she can while still trying to make her answer clear to Harry.  He beams.

“Blink once if you think I’m hot.”

This time, Misty can’t control herself.  She lets out an exasperated sigh that does, unfortunately, catch the attention of a few of her friends.

“You good?”  The girl sitting beside her on the couch-- Kennedy-- laughs.  

Before Misty even has time to respond, however, Harry swoops in and saves the day. He knocks hard, twice, on the wooden floor, and every head in the room turns.

There is an intense shift of energy once everyone realizes that there is nothing that could have possibly made that noise.  

“Uhhh…???”  Another sister, Rosie, speaks up, curling even further into her boyfriend.

“What the fuck was that dude?”  Greg, one of the most unbearably fratty boys Misty has ever known, sits up.

And there sits Harry, smirking in the corner, obviously pleased with his work.

Misty realizes quickly that she can’t blow her own cover, so her face changes to one of apprehension and terror, mirroring everyone else’s.  “Uhh… everyone heard that, right?”

“That was like, distinct!” Rosie says.  “Like two deliberate knocks.”

All at once everyone starts talking over one another.

“What the fuck, dude--”

“Was it over in that corner?”

“Go check it out--”

“No you go check it out!”

“Was it one knock or two?”

“You guys, what the fuck was that?’

Misty glances at Harry, who is staring back at her expectantly, as if to ask if it’s okay if he makes the next move.  Misty gives him a subtle nod, and Harry rises to his feet.  

He walks gently along the wooden floor, making sure to get as close as possible to the people sitting scattered along it.  He wants them to feel his presence, and each person has a different reaction.  

It’s Luca, Rosie’s boyfriend, who says something first.  “Wait, I’m not even kidding you, I’m cold as shit right now.”

Harry grins down at Luca, shooting Misty a wink.  “Uh ohhhh,” Harry says softly. He reaches down to lightly tickle his fingers against the back of Luca’s neck, and Luca instantly shoots up onto his feet.

“Swear to GOD dude, something just fucking touched me!”

Rosie shoots to her feet as well, taking a step away from Luca.  “Luca you better not be fucking around--”

“Why would I fuck around about that shit?” he asks, voice raising.

“Guys there has to be a logical explanation for this.”  Kennedy speaks up, reaching for her drink on the table.  “Like, it’s getting colder outside.  Maybe there was a draft.”

Rosie sniffs the air a few times, then swallows.  Misty has never seen anyone look so worried before in her life, and it makes her want to laugh.  “Guys, I smell cinnamon.”

“Oops,” Harry says, turning to Misty.  “Might’ve gotten a bit too close there.”

In an instant, Harry is out of Misty’s sight.  But he manifests again in the back corner of the room and steps on a particularly creaky floor board, causing everyone’s heads to turn.

Harry observes the shocked looks on all of their faces, then gives Misty a shit eating grin.  “I do that a lot, actually,” he says.

As if backing up his words, another sister, Angie, speaks up.  “That’s the noise!” she says.  “Lindsey and I were in here the other night and we heard it!”

“I’ve heard it too,” Kennedy says.  “It happens like, all the time.”

“So you’re just like, not even scared?” Rosie asks, panic in her voice now.  “You’re like, completely fine with it?   Like it’s normal to you?”

“Misty.”  Harry’s voice is now right in Misty’s ear, and it makes her jump.  She can feel his cold presence against her skin, and his all too delicious spicy scent engulfs her.  She shivers, but turns her head as if to let him know he’s got her attention.

“You ever seen the movie Beetlejuice?”

Misty giggles and nods subtly, glad that no one in the room is really paying attention to her right now.

“Yeah?” Harry chuckles against Misty’s skin.  “Thinkin’ we could do somethin’ like that one scene.”

Misty doesn’t even have time to question what scene he’s even referring to, his coldness is gone just as quickly as it came.  She turns around again, eyes scanning the room of her panicked classmates and sisters, before she finds him in the corner of the room, messing with an iphone that’s charging.  He doesn’t pick it up, instead he just taps the screen.  Luckily, the phone is unlocked.

“It’s 2020,” he mumbles, “Who doesn’t have a bloody passcode on their phone?”

The unlocking of the phone, however, does not go unnoticed.

It’s Rosie who points it out, because of course it is.  “Guys,” she shrieks, “look at Greg’s phone!”

All eyes are on Harry-- or rather, the phone, and Harry rolls his eyes.  “Shit,” he mutters, then looks up at Misty.  “Ask them if they hear something.”

Misty wastes no time.  “Guys… holy shit do you hear that?”  

The room goes quiet, save for the movie that no one had bothered to pause.  Lindsey scrambles for the remote and quickly mutes the television, and everyone is stock still.

“I don’t hear anything,” Rosie whispers, and Misty quickly cuts her off with a sharp “Shhh!”

She glances back over at Harry, hoping he has a plan.  He doesn’t even look at her, he just continues scrolling through the phone with a concentrated frown on his face.

Greg rises to his feet and takes a cautious step towards his phone.  “What the fuck--” he mumbles.

And then Harry nods, pushes a button, and everyone jumps as the opening bars of Tainted Love fill the room via the bluetooth speakers in the corner.

A small smirk begins growing on Harry’s face as he slowly rises from his squatted position beside the phone. “Ahh,” he says slowly. “An absolute classic.”

Everyone seems to be in shock at what’s happening, so no one moves or reaches for the phone to stop the music.  Harry is beaming at Misty, and now she can’t even try to hide the smile on her face as he begins bopping towards her.  

His shoulders are grooving along with the beat, and he does a silly side step type of jig in Greg’s direction that makes Misty almost lose her composure completely.  He punches the air with each prominent beat, wiggling his hips closer to Greg.  

“Get his phone, Misty,” Harry says quietly, continuing his slow dancing movements.  “Don’t let anyone turn the song off.”

Just as Greg takes a step forward to get to his phone, Harry swoops in, taking both of Greg’s hands in his and dancing with him-- a very poor version of a ballroom dance.

Nearly everyone in the room shrieks.  “Greg this isn’t funny!” Rosie squeals.  “Knock it off!”

“I’m not fuckin’ doin’ this!” Greg calls over his shoulder, as Harry spins him around the room.

Misty seizes this opportunity and makes a beeline for the phone, glad that everyone is too preoccupied watching Greg dance with a seemingly invisible partner.  Harry, although focused on the dancing, keeps his eyes on her the entire time.  When he sees her pick up the phone and subtly slip it into the pocket of her sweat pants, he grins. “Good girl.”

Misty tries to ignore how those words make her feel.

Harry ends his dance with Greg by dramatically turning Greg away.  He glances at Misty with the most mischievous look she’s ever seen.  “Who’s next?”

He doesn’t give her time to even think of an answer, he’s already shimmying his way over to Rosie.  He stops briefly to deliberately knock a pillow off of the couch and giggles, “oops!”  when it startles the daylights out of Lindsey. Everyone in the room has begun to frantically look for the phone, including Misty-- who is just trying to play her part.  The scream that Rosie lets out when Harry grabs onto her though, is something Misty can’t even ignore.  She bursts out laughing, earning a few shocked looks from her friends..

“Help!” Rosie screams. “It’s not fucking funny Misty!”

Misty immediately tries to compose herself, forcing her face into as serious an expression as she can muster. “Sorry,” she says, “It’s just--”

“Rosie if this is a prank, I swear,” Angie cuts Misty off and lunges towards Rosie, feeling the air around her.

“It’s not!” Rosie wails. “I don’t know how I’m doing this!’

Harry twirls away from Rosie and right into the arms of Angie, who gasps as she’s led clumsily, around the room. “Oh my god!’

“Oh my god!”  Misty repeats, trying her best to seem as shocked as everyone else.  “What the fuck is happening?”

“That’s good,” Harry says over his shoulder, “But I’m gonna need more feeling from you.”

Misty lets out a horrified shriek that puts Rosie’s own shriek to shame.  “We have to find the phone!” she cries.   “We have to turn this stupid song off!”

Harry frowns now. “Hey.  Tainted Love isn’t stupid.  Watch your mouth.’

Misty ignores him as she joins in on the frantic search for the phone that she knows damn well is deep in her pocket.    Every now and then she and Harry share a knowing glance, as he switches from partner to partner.

Misty stands in the furthest corner of the room, pretending to busy herself looking for the item, when suddenly Kennedy laughs.  Misty doesn’t even bother looking up, assuming simply that Harry has switched to her.  It’s when Rosie speaks that Misty’s attention is caught.

“Kennedy what are you laughing at?!” Rosie wails, tears in her eyes.

“It’s kind of funny!”  Kennedy says, taking a sip from her drink before setting it back down.  “Like, whoever is doing this-- a ghost or a demon or like, whatever-- has a sense of humor.  They know a good classic when they hear it.”

Harry, who’s currently spinning Luca into dizzy oblivion, grins.  “Kennedy’s got the spirit!”

“It’s not funny!” Rosie cries. “How can you laugh?!”

Kennedy shrugs, already beginning a bop of her own.  “I dunno, I think it’s  funny.  I don’t think whatever’s doing this is like, evil.”

“I don’t think it is either,” Misty chimes in, although she’s brushed off by everyone’s talking.  Some people try to stop whatever force is making them dance, others are too scared to go near the dancer for fear of being next. Kennedy, however, just continues to groove on her own.

Misty reaches discreetly into her pocket to turn the music up a bit more, and Harry laughs gleefully.  “Louder!” He calls to Misty, finally releasing his hold on Luca and scanning the room for his next victim.

As Misty watches him, cheerfully prancing around the room and trying to catch Linsdey-- who’s darting around the room like a chicken with her head cut off-- she tries her hardest to ignore the twitching of her heart.  There’s no way she likes him, absolutely not.  He’s dead, for fucks sake.  But he looks so full of life, so full of happiness, and she realizes that this is probably the most fun he’s had in years.

“Misty what are you doing?” Kennedy calls.  “You’re not even looking for the phone, come dance with me!’

“Yeah Misty, come dance!” Harry adds, shimmying his way up to Kennedy and taking her hand.  

Kennedy shrieks, but she isn’t scared.  She laughs immediately, as Harry pulls out his best dance moves for her.

“Someone is fucking with us,” Angie says, “They have to be.”

“Misty, why are you just standing there?” Greg asks.  “You’re not even trying to help us!”

“Because,” Misty replies, her brain running a million miles an hour to come up with an excuse.  She’s distracted by how much fun Harry’s having, beaming at his one willing participant as he twirls her around.  She smiles.  “Because I agree with Kennedy.  Whatever kind of spirit is doing this is obviously having fun.  I think we should let him--” Misty quickly realizes what she’s said and corrects herself “-- or it, whatever it is, just keep vibing with us.  This is probably the most fun it’s had in years.”

“You’re right,” Harry calls over his shoulder as he dips Kennedy,  “It is.”

“You’re a fucking freak,” Rosie sobs, practically throwing herself into Luca’s arms.

“Misty is the only person this spirit hasn’t fucked with!”  Lindsey points out.  “She has to be up to something!”

Harry makes a face.  “That’s a good point,” he muses.   He gives Kennedy one last twirl before disappearing completely out of Misty’s sight-- only to reappear right beside her seconds later.

“Care to dance, ma’am?”

Misty lets her guard down completely and laughs as Harry takes hold of her.  For a moment, she seems to forget all the eyes in the room.  She forgets that she is the only one who can see Harry.  Kennedy cheers her on as Harry moves her body-- far more dramatically than he’d moved anyone else’s.

“Miss Misty!” Harry says, making a face as if he’s beyond impressed with her moves.  “You can dance!” He dips her aggressively and she squeals, reaching up to hold onto him for stability.

Kennedy starts to jokingly dance around with the other sisters, but Misty hardly notices because she’s so distracted by the silly faces Harry’s pulling as he flings her around. He goes to dip her again, nearly bashing her head accidentally on a lamp. “Whoops,” he says through a giggle.

Misty laughs so hard she snorts, and Harry brings her upright again with the biggest smile on his face. “Never heard you laugh this hard before,” he muses, “it’s cute.”

Instantly, Misty’s cheeks grow hot, and her insides twist as hard as Harry’s spinning her.  As if sensing how flustered she is, Harry laughs, reaching down to pinch playfully at her side.

“I know it’s killing you,” he mumbles. “It’s kinda killing me, too.” Harry lifts Misty off the ground, spinning her around ungracefully and making her shriek  “Although I know if you could talk to me, you’d probably yell at me.  Or make some smartass remark.” Harry spins Misty out, then in, his face now unbearably close to hers.  He grins.  “So I am liking this a bit.”

Misty catches herself staring at Harry’s lips, and she subconsciously licks her own.  She wants to say something so bad, and she knows he’s teasing her because he can.  She hears Kennedy’s laughter mixed with another (maybe Angie’s?), and she sees the commotion occuring around her in the room, but it doesn’t feel real.  The only thing she can focus on is Harry, and his scent, and the icy feeling of his breath against her skin.  

Maybe everyone is too distracted, and she can lean in and kiss him.  Can she kiss a ghost?  Obviously she’s never tried before but he’s so close, he’s right in front of her… surely--

Misty’s thoughts are interrupted with the sudden sound of silence.  She turns quickly, completely broken from her trance with Harry, to see Luca holding the wireless speaker in his hand, one thumb on the power button, mouth wide open in fear.

After a few more beats, Luca speaks. “Does anyone still feel anything?”

Misty turns to find that Harry is gone, completely out of her sight, and she tries to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach.

“It’s gone,” Rosie says. “I think it’s gone. No one is moving anymore.”

Misty scans the room, trying to find Harry somewhere blending into his surroundings, but much to her dismay she finds him nowhere.

Greg slaps Luca’s arm dramatically before taking a step into the middle of the room.  “Bro, what happened?”

“What the fuck was that?!”  Rosie’s mascara is running slightly down her face, but her voice is at a much lower and less panicked level than before.  “What the fuck just happened?”

“That was fucked,” Luca says, moving closer to Rosie.  “Like, fucked.”

Misty tries her hardest to play her part, trying to act as shocked as everyone else, but she can’t stop her hand from flying to the cold spot on her chin-- where she’d felt Harry’s own mouth brush. She can’t stop herself from thinking about his words, wondering how lovely it would’ve felt to kiss him.

“And Kennedy and Misty didn’t do shit to try and fix it!” Rosie cries, reaching up to wipe at her now completely wet eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Kennedy says,  “What should we have done?  Begged nicely for this invisible fucking force to leave us alone?  I’m sure it would’ve totally listened to us.”  She chuckles almost bitterly, reaching for her abandoned drink on the table.  “You guys don’t know how to have fun,” she finishes, punctuating her sentence by chugging the rest of her beverage, “And it shows.”

The evening is cut short and it passes by quickly and in a blur, with everyone checking around the room multiple times for whatever the source of the music was-- to no luck.   At some point, Misty discards the phone subtly onto the couch for Greg to find.  Everyone around the room discusses their perspective of what had occurred, and Misty tries her best to participate-- although she is mostly spoken over by a crying Rosie and an overly anxious Linsdey.  

It takes nearly an hour for Misty to find herself in her own room, after reassuring her nervous sisters that they would be fine sleeping in their rooms alone.  She’s tried her hardest to brush Harry’s words about her laugh off, to stop thinking about them, and about him in general but she can’t.  As she slips out of her clothes and into her pajamas, she finds herself thinking deeply about his smile.

Misty hears the most gentle knock on her door, pulling her from her thoughts.  She finishes pulling her pajama t-shirt over her head before calling out a soft, “Come in.”

Harry manifests himself in her room without even opening the door, and Misty jumps when she sees him in the corner by her dresser.  She rolls her eyes as she speaks.  “You didn’t even need to knock.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Harry states, a smirk on his lips.  “I didn’t know if you were changing.”

“You’re fine,” Misty says, plopping onto her bed.  “I mean, I was changing, but like, you’re a ghost. You can walk through walls.”

“I am,” Harry says, “and I can.  But I’m still respectful.  What kind of a ghost do you take me for?”

Misty giggles, tossing a pillow at Harry.   He dodges it-- not that he needs to-- and he snorts.

“Anyway, I just came in to say goodnight,” he says, his smile still wide on his face.  “And to make sure I didn’t like… overstep tonight.”

Misty smiles back, ungracefully untucking the covers beneath her. “You didn’t overstep,” she says. “And anyway--” she doesn’t dare look at him as she continues her words,  “I liked it.”

“Did you?”  Harry seems completely unfazed, and Misty can hear the smirk on his face.  It’s infuriatingly sexy.

“I did,” Misty says, finally turning to face him.  She rolls her eyes when Harry is, of course, nowhere to be found, but she’s not even worried about it.  She knows he’s still here.  Her confidence grows in his absence.  “I liked it a lot.”

“Did you?”  He asks again, his voice lower and coming from behind her now.  He’s close enough that he sends shivers down her spine, which don’t go unnoticed by him. He laughs.  

She turns around to catch his smile as he sits directly behind her on her bed, close enough that she can feel the crisp chill of his skin.

“Yes,” she says quietly,  “I did.  Told you I did.”

Once again, Misty feels hypnotized by his beautiful face.  Harry knows this, and he hesitantly raises his hand to trail along her arm.  She shivers again.  Without meaning to, she leans into him.  His smile tells her she’s not alone in the way she’s feeling right now.

“That’s good to hear,” Harry says, voice barely above a whisper.  

Misty lifts her head, lips ghosting along the icy feel of his chin.  “Did you?” she breathes.

“Did I what, sunshine?”  Harry’s mouth seems to follow Misty’s own without kissing her, and it absolutely drives her crazy.

Misty gulps, gathering as much courage as she can muster.  “Did you like it?”

With a cheeky grin, Harry removes his hand from Misty’s arm-- much to her dismay.  She is knocked back to reality just as quickly as she’d left it, but his words make her insides flutter.  “I fucking loved it.”

Misty giggles nervously, deciding to change the subject.  “Everyone’s going to think I’m fucking crazy from here on out.”

Harry snorts.  “No they won’t.  They’ll forget.  They’ll continue to think it was a weird occurrence, but they’ll forget that you were one of the only ones who didn’t.”

Misty frowns, jokingly.  “So I’m forgettable then?’

Harry rolls his eyes, his smile deepening wider.  “Hardly.”

Now Misty beams, ignoring the twisting in her stomach. “In all seriousness,” she replies, “You’re right.  It was a weird night.  I doubt my quick compliance to you was very memorable to them.”

“I liked your compliance.”  

Harry says these words so softly that Misty has to look at him twice to make sure she’s even heard him correctly.  He’s no longer looking at her, but the smile on his face makes Misty’s insides go weak, and she notices her own breath hitching in her throat.

“I--” she begins, not knowing where to even begin with a response to him.  “I liked--”

“You don’t have to say anything about it,” Harry says. “You don’t have to say anything at all.”  He smiles sheepishly at her after a moment. “I just want to tell you that you were right.  That was the most fun I’ve had in years.  And I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t have to!” Misty adjusts herself on the bed so she’s facing Harry more.  “I had so much fun.  You deserved it.  And honestly--”

Mist trails off, licking her lips and preparing herself for what she’s about to say,

“I liked being the only one who could see you.  And hear you.”  Her voice grows quieter. “I liked you… Telling me what to do.”

Harry’s smirk deepens as he leans closer into Misty once again.  His lips look so delicious, so inviting, Misty isn’t even sure what she’s looking at anymore.

Moments pass, with Harry and Misty both so close to one another that it’s overwhelming.  Misty wants to kiss him more than anything else in her entire life, but she’s scared, and she pretends she doesn’t notice the way he melts when she sighs against his skin.

“Harry,” she breathes slowly, “I don’t know if it’s possible… but I--”

Harry stands suddenly, catching Misty off guard.  “You should go to bed,” he says, quickly but sadly. “I’m so sorry,  I don’t mean to cut off the--”

“No you’re right,”  Misty says, suddenly feeling completely self-conscious.  She retracts into herself, crossing her arms along her lower body.  “You’re right.  I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for!”

“No, I know!” she lies.  “But I… you know, I mean, it’s weird!”

“It’s not weird,” Harry insists.  “Misty--”

“I have to go to bed,” she says, scrambling ungracefully to get under the covers. “It’s time.”

Harry looks at her for a few more moments before blowing all of his air out in a loud puff.  “It’s time,” he repeats.  He steps cautiously towards her, then softens himself as he reaches for her hand.

Misty eyes his movements, then smiles as she gently takes his hand in her own.  

There are a few more moments of charged silence, before Misty speaks

“Don’t end tonight on a weird note,” Misty jokes, smiling up at Harry.  “I had so much fun with you.”

Harry gives her hand a squeeze.  “I did too, sunshine.  Promise.”

“And you’ll come back tomorrow?’  Misty asks.  “And it won’t be weird?”

“Why would it be weird?”  Harry laughs, and Misty, once again, grows flustered.

“I don’t know!” she whines.  “I just feel weird!”

“Don’t feel weird,” Harry says, leaning forward.  He kisses her head without thinking about it, and he ignores the slight shiver of her body when he does so.  “Promise it’s not weird.’

She smiles up at him.  “I liked tonight,” she says, for what feels like the hundredth time.

“I did too,” Harry reassures her, fighting the urge to bring her hand to his lips so he can kiss it.  “So fucking much.”

Misty stares at him for just a tick too long, then smiles to herself-- clearly happy with their conversation.  She snuggles down under the covers and Harry, without hesitation, pulls them up further to tuck her in.

“You didn’t promise me you’d come tomorrow,” she says softly, her eyes fluttering closed.

Harry reaches across her and flicks off her lamp, allowing his eyes to focus in the darkness before speaking.  “Of course I’ll come tomorrow,” he says.  “I’ve come every other day, haven’t I?”

“I just hate the idea of waking up and you not being here, you know?”  Misty opens her eyes, blinking softly up at Harry.  ‘I want to have you while I still can.”

Something about Misty’s words breaks Harry’s heart, and he leans in impossibly closer to her.  ‘You may have me whenever you like, pretty girl.  I will be here whenever you call.”

“Promise?”

Harry can feel tears welling in his eyes and he absolutely hates it.  He tries desperately to blink them away.  “Promise.”

“Good.”  Misty settles herself further under the covers with a content sigh.

“Get some sleep,” Harry mumbles, reaching up to wipe at his eyes as subtly as he can.  God, he wishes he were human.  More than anything in the world, he wishes he could give Misty the love she deserves-- fully.

“Okay,” Misty sighs.  “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah.”  Harry nods.  “Tomorrow.”

Misty smiles.  “Goodnight.  Don’t watch me sleep, weird ass.”

Harry snorts at her words.  Of course she’d end the night on that note.  With a gentle “goodnight,”  He rises to his feet and takes a few steps away from her bed, just so that she can’t detect his presence by his scent. He makes himself invisible to her while still watching her for at least another full two minutes.

The way he’s truly starting to fall for this girl is completely alarming, especially considering their circumstances.  If he’d still had a beating heart, it would be breaking, and he hates the isolated yet heavy feeling in his chest as he watches her drift gently into unconsciousness.  He wants her, plain and simple.  

And as Misty’s thoughts turn into dreams, she can’t seem to get the ghostly boy out of her mind.   She wants him, just  as badly as he wants her.  It’s something she fears she’ll never tell him, for obvious reasons, but she still allows herself to indulge in the visions of them experiencing a somewhat normal relationship together as she drifts into sleep.

And as the moon rises over the old, creaky house, both Harry and Misty find themselves imagining, if only for the night, that they can love one another the way they know they were meant to.   Surely it won’t be enough to sustain their longing for one another.  But for tonight,  Harry knows that he’ll subtly pop into Misty’s dream.   And he knows Misty will never mention it to him, but it will sustain them both for the time being.  It will make them both happy.

And Misty’s happiness, Harry thinks, is the most important thing of all.

#Harry Styles #Harry #Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry fanfiction #fanfiction #Harry Styles AU #Harry AU #AU #Harry Styles fluff #Harry fluff #fluff

[pocketseizure]

A Noble Pursuit

None of the lessons from the Gerudo Classroom have prepared Rhondson for married life with Hudson, who has grown restless and disappeared from Tarrey Town a year after its founding. She travels to the Akkala Citadel Ruins to hunt for her husband while reflecting on the bridges that will need to be rebuilt in order for Hyrule to embrace a peaceful future.

This story about archaeology, castles, ruins, cultural differences, giant monster friends, and what it means “to live happily ever after” was written for @memorabiliazine​, and it’s also on AO3 (here). The accompanying illustrations are by the stylish scholar @pocketwei​.

. . . . . . . . . .

This wasn’t the first time Rhondson had set off on a husband hunt.

It was late summer, almost a year after the ghost of the Great Calamity vanished from the castle. Most of Hyrule was still green, but the first touches of red and gold had already begun to appear on the trees of Akkala. It was chilly when Rhondson left Tarrey Town, but the morning fog had lifted and the sky was crystal clear.

Rhondson had always enjoyed mornings. Most people woke up early in the desert and took a nap during the worst heat of the afternoon so that they could stay up late into the evening. Rhondson kept the same schedule in Tarrey Town, a practice that Hudson found inexplicably upsetting. He complained, almost every day now, that she never went to bed with him. He insisted that a man and his wife should fall asleep together. Rhondson explained that she enjoyed sewing by lamplight at night, when the world is quiet and even the plainest thread shines like gold, but he refused to understand.

Hudson had recently grown restless. Perhaps it was because of the tension in their relationship, or perhaps it was only the change of season, but he left Tarrey Town one afternoon and never returned. Ashai’s classes hadn’t prepared Rhondson for this. They’d talked so much about how to catch a man, but never about how to keep him. She wondered if other vai had the same problem. All of the romances she read when she was younger ended with a “happily ever after,” but what was supposed to happen the next day? And the day after that?

All things considered, Rhondson was content with her life in Tarrey Town. Her feelings about the settlement had been ambiguous at first. The location was out-of-the-way, to say the least, but the town received more visitors than she’d expected. The son of the two Sheikah researchers who lived in an old lighthouse up on the northern cliffs made his living as a traveling merchant of fine clothing, and he saw to it that Rhondson always had work. Tarrey Town was unique in its appeal as a marketplace for goods from all over Hyrule, and Hudson’s brightly painted modular houses had become something of a tourist attraction. He’d been flooded with orders for summer rental homes, and a satellite community had sprung up on the other side of the bridge to satisfy the demand.

Hudson managed to keep himself busy, but he seemed to harbor doubts about establishing Tarrey Town on such a small island. To make matters worse, many of the people who’d come to town for the summer were starting to drift away as the days became shorter. Perhaps they were worried about Akkala’s infamous autumn thunderstorms. Rhondson happened to enjoy the heavy rains, whose gale winds and lightning crashes reminded her of the sandstorms back home, but she understood how the violent weather and sudden drop in temperature might put off people who weren’t accustomed to the climate. She’d camped at more than a few oasis waystations during her travels, and she knew it was perfectly natural for the population of a place like Tarrey Town to wax and wane with the season.

Rhondson tried to explain to Hudson how it was normal for people to come and go. Many of the town residents were nomadic by nature, she said, and they had no excuse not to indulge their wanderlust now that it was safe to travel. Hudson adamantly refused to listen. He insisted that a man’s home was his castle. But why not have two castles, Rhondson objected. And people would come back next summer, she reasoned. They’d had to hire new workers to perform upkeep on the vacation homes during the winter, after all, so it wasn’t as though the population was shrinking. If he was feeling ambitious, she added with a wink, they might be able to add their own contribution to the town’s population.

“I’m just not sure how long this town will last,” Hudson replied, ending the conversation with a sigh.

His admission put Rhondson ill at ease, and she couldn’t help recalling Hudson’s anxiety when she realized that he hadn’t come home during the night. “Sometimes you have to treat voe like children,” Ashai had once explained. “There will be times when they take action without thinking about how it will affect you, but it’s likely that their behavior comes from simple thoughtlessness, not spite.” Rhondson didn’t know about that. She’d met enough silly and immature vai in her life to understand that voe didn’t have a monopoly on being pigheaded. Still, if Hudson had gone out and gotten himself lost, purposefully or otherwise, she might as well go find him.

Rhondson set out from Tarrey Town and walked due south, pacing herself as she made her way up the gentle slope of the hills leading to Upland Zorana. Once the mountains began in earnest, she turned west at the road leading to the old stone quarry and kept going until she could see the waterfalls at the source of Lake Akkala.

She’d crossed the Sokkala Bridges when she first came to Tarrey Town instead of taking the longer road to the north, and she was just as impressed by them now as she was then. The log bridges were simple structures, really, not much more than planks laid over support pillars embedded in the banks of the rivulets flowing from the waterfall basin, but they were sturdy and well-constructed. A traveler could cross them with ease, secure enough in their footing to look up and appreciate the rainbows that danced in the misty spray of the waterfalls.

Not every bridge needed to be the Bridge of Hylia, Rhondson thought. Perhaps it was better if most bridges weren’t, in fact. The Bridge of Hylia was a magnificent piece of work, to be sure, but it seemed as though it was already in a state of disrepair even before the Great Calamity. Judging from the conversations between Hudson and his former boss Bolson, no living stonemason had any idea how to repair its gargantuan supports. Meanwhile, more modest structures like the Sokkala Bridges could be maintained whenever the need arose. In their own way, the Sokkala Bridges were just as important at the Bridge of Hylia, even if they never became monuments.

As she crossed the final bridge, Rhondson could see the hazy outline of Akkala Citadel rising in the west. Its massive size was impressive, but she couldn’t imagine it being particularly beneficial to anyone. Truth be told, the ruins weren’t much more than a glorified pile of old stone bricks that could almost certainly be put to better use elsewhere. Speaking of which, Rhondson was starting to get an inkling of where Hudson might have gotten himself off to. “A man’s home is his castle,” he liked to say, and how intriguing it must have been to have an actual castle so close to home, especially if its materials could be repurposed.

Rhondson headed north when the road forked and made her way across the old high bridge over the river, carefully navigating the deep fissures in the stone. Once she was safely on the other side, she began climbing the winding path up the mountain.

The leaves of the trees on the upper slopes of the hill had already turned a bold shade of crimson, and the weathered steel of the Sheikah Tower gleamed in the sun. Rumor had it that the citadel used to be patrolled by Guardians, but nothing confronted Rhondson save for a few moss-covered remnants of ceramic casing. Parts of the road had been washed away in a landslide, probably after the Malice swamp dried up, but the majority of the paving stones were still intact.

Rhondson entered the gatehouse at the foot of the outer wall surrounding the citadel. The inside was littered with rubble from a century-old battle, and the remains of more recent Bokoblin campfires were scattered across the floor. A partially overturned Guardian occupied a corner of the room, its segmented legs folded neatly underneath its casing like the paws of a sleeping cat. When she first set out from the desert, Rhondson had been terrified of encountering a Guardian, but she’d grown fond of the broken bits and pieces of their chassis that had been left beside Hyrule’s roads to remind travelers to remain vigilant. Their round faces and decoratively textured bodies were actually a bit cute, like oversized toys.

Rhondson passed through the gatehouse and entered a small courtyard. The walls of the citadel rose on every side of the open space, but the gaps between turrets were wide enough for the sun to shine through and warm the paving stones. One side of the courtyard was dominated by a large alcove that was probably used to shelter horses. The bare soil under the dilapidated wooden awning was covered in pale green scrub bush and dotted with bright yellow wildflowers.

A covered walkway ran along the opposite wall, connecting the gatehouse to the larger body of the citadel. As Rhondson followed the shaded path, she imagined how heavily the snowfall would accumulate at this altitude. She didn’t envy the soldiers tasked with shoveling duty. She glanced at the enormous wooden door that marked the entrance to the main hall, but its iron fittings were orange with rust. Thankfully, the smaller door at the end of the walkway was barely hanging by its hinges, and Rhondson had no trouble pushing it open.

She called Hudson’s name into the shadows of the citadel. Aside from the echo of her own voice, there was no answer. It probably wasn’t safe to go inside, but she had already come so far. Rhondson figured that she may as well make sure that Hudson wasn’t here before she left. 

The interior of the fortress wasn’t nearly as impressive as its silhouette. The entryway was much smaller than she expected, and the floor was made of packed earth. As Rhondson’s eyes adjusted to the gloom, she could see that the wooden beams of the ceiling were exposed. They were dark with ash. The smoke had probably come from the tall braziers secured to the pillars set into the stone walls.

Rhondson walked across the hall, glancing around her with interest. A few piles of old leaves moldered just inside the open service door, but the room was remarkably clean. The tapestries displayed in the bays between pillars still retained some of their color, and wooden weapons racks still clung to the stone walls next to the main gate. Rhondson realized that the earth floor must absorb the humidity of summer and the chill of winter, keeping the wood and cloth relatively preserved. The layer of ash coating the wooden beams of the ceiling probably helped protect them from the elements as well.

Large passageways ringed with shallow arches connected the central hall to the east and west wings, but Rhondson was more interested in a spiral staircase carved into the back wall. Although she had to bend her head to enter, the stairs bore her weight. Each step dipped slightly toward the middle from centuries of use. As she climbed to the next floor, Rhondson was amused by the thought of walking in the footsteps of people who had lived so long ago.

The room above was much smaller than the citadel’s entrance, but its ceiling was almost as high. The walls were constructed of the same unpainted white limestone as the fortress exterior. Their rough surfaces were irregularly broken by small rectangular windows positioned slightly above eye level. Some of the glass panes were missing, allowing a cool breeze to enter the bright and sun-warmed space, but the floorboards were level and seemed solid enough

Rhondson began to make her way from room to room. Her first thought was that the haphazard layout was due to poor planning, but she gradually realized that different parts of the Akkala Citadel must have been built at different times, more than likely after various battles. Very few furnishings remained in the deserted fortress, but the architecture differed so drastically between rooms that it was clear she was walking through different periods of history. Rhondson was amazed by the evolution of the windows, which became larger and more ornate as she walked. She imagined that this was what Hyrule Castle must look like, an amalgamation of architectural styles that had grown and transformed along with the kingdom itself.

Rhondson enjoyed her stroll through the ruins, but Hudson was nowhere to be found. The sun was already low in the sky, so she made her way outside and began her descent. From her vantage point at the top of the path, she could see a flat patch of land at the base of the hill. The soldiers stationed here must have used it as a parade ground for exercise and training. It would be as good a place as any to make camp.

Dusk had begun to gather by the time she arrived on the field, and the shadows lay long across the tall grass. Rhondson didn’t see the Hinox immediately, but she could smell it. The odor wasn’t unpleasant, but it was unmistakable. As soon as she realized that she wasn’t alone, Rhondson turned to leave. Most Hinoxes tended to ignore the travelers that wandered into their vicinity, but she didn’t want to take any chances.

Without warning, the Hinox bellowed. Its scream sent startled birds up from the nearby trees in a rush of beating wings and angry squawking. Rhondson prepared herself to make a run for her life, but she was stopped in her tracks by a voice she would recognize anywhere.

“Don’t cry, you big baby. It only stings at first. You’ll feel better in two shakes of a blupee’s tail.”

Rhondson shook her head with amusement as she walked across the field toward the source of the voice. The Hinox pouted at her, giant tears spilling from its eye.

“Hudson?”

The broad-shouldered man crouching beside the Hinox jerked his head up. “Rhondson? What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. I came looking for you. Is this where you’ve been this whole time?”

“I meant to come back last night,” Hudson replied, averting his eyes. “But this oaf hurt his foot while helping me clear away the rubble on the path up the mountain, and I couldn’t just leave him like this. The wound would have suppurated, and he’s all alone out here.”

Rhondson gave the Hinox a closer look and saw that it – he – had a deep gash on his heel. Hudson was cleaning it with a balled-up wad of fabric. If she wasn’t mistaken, it was the first workshirt she’d sewn for him. She’d made it just as they were starting to get to know one another, before she knew his measurements, and it fit him poorly. She asked him to throw it away and bury it with the compost months ago, but he’d apparently kept it. Hudson was surprisingly sentimental for a man who insisted on utility over decoration. It was one of the things she liked about him.

Rhondson smiled as she shrugged her pack onto the ground and dug out a jar of safflina salve. As Hudson helped her dress the Hinox’s wound, he explained that he had indeed come here to assess the state of the stonework. He assumed the citadel would be in ruins, but the structure was still sound. It would be a shame to dismantle it. With a few minor renovations, it would be almost as good as new. Still, making it more habitable would mean reducing its efficacy as a fortress.

“But what does that matter?” Rhondson asked. “Who’s going to attack it?”

“There are monsters roaming about, and…”

“Does this ‘monster’ look like he’s going to attack anyone?”

The Hinox had fallen asleep as they talked and was snoring lightly.

“He’s not a monster,” Hudson replied with a frown.

“Exactly. It seems to me that you’re already thinking about hiring him to work for you.”

“I’m not… Well, I guess I am. Having a Hinox around would be useful, especially if I decide to fix up this place, but we’d have to knock down some of the interior walls to make more room for him.”

Rhondson winced as she remembered all the times she’d banged her forehead on Hylian doorways. Now that she thought about it, there was no reason for those doors to be so low in the first place, especially not when her husband could so easily make them more accommodating. “Weren’t you planning to knock down the walls anyway?” she pointed out. “You could use the materials to repair the bridge.”

“But it’s disrespectful not to honor the past,” Hudson objected. “Shouldn’t the history of the Akkala Citadel be preserved?”

“It’s in ruins.” Rhondson put a hand on his shoulder. “One day you’ll have to come with me to visit my family. Everything in Gerudo Town is built on top of history. Nothing gets done if you worry about preserving the past as it once was. Living things change, and that includes old castles like this.”

“Maybe it includes towns too,” Hudson replied. “I guess it won’t be so bad if Tarrey Town grows. We could have a sister city maybe, right here on this hill. It would be a convenient waystation for travelers.” He thought for a moment. “And a good place for Hinoxes, too. It’s built on their scale, at least, and they’re all over Akkala. It’s a shame they always have to sleep in the open. Besides, Mason looks like he could use a friend. He’ll be lonely without me.”

Mason? Rhondson grinned at the name her husband had assigned to the Hinox. “Are you going to bring him home, then?” she asked.

“Home is wherever you are, Rhondson. We’ll go wherever you like. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, but we can spend a night or two away from Tarrey Town. I’d like to go back to the citadel tomorrow morning. I don’t think anyone has been inside this place for at least a hundred years.”

The sun had finally set, and stars were beginning to shine in the deepening indigo of the twilight sky. Rhondson smiled as she pictured the castle on the hill once again filled with lights. There was a certain charm to speculating on what the past might have been like, but the future held much more potential for imagination.

#Legend of Zelda #Breath of the Wild #Rhondson #Gerudo culture #Memorabilia zine #pocketwei #architecture #ruins #Zelda zines #Zelda art #Zelda fic #my fic

[essaysbyciara]

Red and Green Sprinkles [Erik Stevens x Y/N]

Fluff; warnings: grief, death. 

It’s still Jesus’s birthday in Hawaii so I guess I can still give out a fic on Christmas Day. I’m trying to find some spirit and reason for the season, y’all. I’m trying. 

Sugar cookies with red and green sprinkles. That’s what Ms. Ellie would leave at your front door every Christmas Eve. Your next door neighbor knew your work schedule like clockwork. If you weren’t home by 11 --  if she didn’t hear your door slam from after a grueling day at work -- she’d send a text to make sure that you were okay. You knew better not to delay your response or you’d get a talking to like a grandma was good for. You didn’t know any of Ms. Ellie’s grandchildren but you felt like one. That’s why her loss hurt like hell. 

You knew this year would be different, the first time in seven seasons where Ms. Ellie wouldn’t leave her signature confections inside of a dollar-store gift bag on your tattered welcome mat. You didn’t care to meet who moved into her apartment because you thought it was so cruel how soon she was replaced. Your nosy neighbor couldn’t wait to give you the tea of how Ms. Ellie died. Grace kept you from punching them dead in the face. ‘They don’t know…” is all you could whisper, pausing your tears for when you could be inside of your safe space to let them go unashamed. 

Christmas Eve crept up on you. You fought to ignore the day until you overhear the Donaldson family obnoxiously singing “Deck The Halls” from behind their wreathed-dressed door. It makes you smile for a brief moment, creating a pillow of joy for when the real grief would come crashing into you. You sigh heavily as you turn the corner of the hallway, coaching yourself to not look down. But as your sorrow clouds your vision, you see an emerald green bag leaning gently against your door. 

Christmas angels are real? 

Dear (Y/N), 

Merry Christmas. Mama Ellie didn’t want you to be without your favorite cookies. 

Best Wishes 

Stevens Clothiers

The note dropped you. No one knew of your cookie arrangement except you two. Despite her incessant check-ins, Ms. Ellie wouldn’t allow for you to know too much about her. You never gazed into the inside of her apartment or peeped pictures of her grandchildren, if they even existed. But apparently someone knew of you, where you lived and that every Christmas Eve around 10 PM, you’d walk up to your door to find a bag of sugar cookies. Cookies you devoured in one sitting. 

Stevens Clothiers. 115 8th Street, NW. 

“I don’t get why you’d call in a tailoring job on Christmas Eve!” But when it’s for Jay-Z, you have no choice but to comply. Erik would rather be home, curled up watching The Wiz, the movie his Grandma Ellie put him onto as a child. It was their Christmas Eve ritual; she’d bring over the sugar cookies with red and green sprinkles, Erik’s favorite, and he’d belt out “You Can’t Win” from his tiny lungs. This would be the first year that he wouldn’t fall asleep next to her on the couch as the credits rolled. Although he’s peeved to still be at work, it’s better than watching his favorite Christmastime movie without the one he loved. 

His misty exterior is startled when the phone rings. His exasperated voice gives salutations through the receiver.

“Oh, hi! I’m sorry! I didn’t think I’d get a live person this late.” Your sweet tone with an accent he can’t quite decipher causes Erik’s body to straighten up. He reasons for you to be the wife of a client hoping to score a last minute gift at the very last minute. 

“No, it’s okay. How can I help you?”

“I know this may sound weird but someone from this business left cookies for me at my front door and I just...I just wanted to thank whoever it was. I, uh, knew Ms. Ellie and I-”

“Oh, yeah. You’re welcome. It was me. I’m Erik, her grandson.” 

“I never knew she had a grandson.” A grandson with a sexy-ass voice, a baritone carrying through your end of the line causing you to stifle your whimper as he spoke. It’s been a minute since you’ve heard a man’s voice, embarrassingly enough. This one was doing so much that you forgot how your last sentence would make Erik feel denied. You snap back to punctuate your thoughts. 

“...not like she didn’t mention you. She did, she just was very private.”

Very private. She kept the cancer diagnosis to herself until she could know longer hide its effects. She made sure her assets passed down to her grandchildren including her famous sugar cookie recipe. Erik scored that one last Christmas, including a promise to make sure that he delivered some for her next door neighbor in ‘2B’. Your phone call proved he kept that. 

“Who made these?” You try to hide the lip smacks of ecstasy as you devour the entire bag. 

“I did, actually.”

“You what? Really? You nailed these!” You ate two cookies before you called. “Good job. I’m sure she’s proud.” 

Erik tenses up with pride and sadness as you go on about his first batch of cookies. He also couldn’t help to be turned on by a voice praising him beyond what his heart could take. Erik’s been single for a time longer than he can remember. The tailoring shop takes up so much of his time -- like tonight -- that he can’t escape from under piles of fabric to have one date. Even though his client’s assistants and stylists use their errands  to flirt with him for sport. 

He doesn’t mind your ramble. It’s a nice break from altering the shoulders on Hov’s suit jacket. 

“I’m glad you like them. I added something extra though, not sure if you can tell…”

“Oh, there’s brandy in here. I caught that early. Ms. Ellie would never do that.”

“You should see her on Thanksgiving. She could drink, trust me. She-” You can hear Erik trail off into a somber note. You didn’t mean to bring up any hurt. You just wanted to say thank you, not hurdle someone into a stage of grief. 

“I should get going. Thank you again for thinking of me like she would. She was an amazing woman and such a great neighbor. Happy holidays to you and your family, Erik.” 

“What family?” 

You weren’t ready for that. “This is the first time we won’t be together for the holidays.”

“Erik, I’m sorry-” 

“Nah, it’s cool. When the head is chopped off, the rest of the body falls, y’know?”

“I do. That’s why I haven’t been home for Christmas in years. I think Ms. Ellie could sense that loss through her door. I think that’s why she did this every year. So I wouldn’t feel like I was alone.” 

Erik’s alone right now, sitting in a brightly lit tailor shop mere minutes before Christmas. He doesn’t want to be alone and he can sense through your voice that you feel the same way.

“What are you doing tonight? I mean, so you don’t feel so alone. I don’t know what to do.” 

“Me? I put on The Wiz. I loved that movie as a kid.“  Somehow you build a courage mixed with care and maybe some carnality. You’ve been single for God’ knows how long too and you couldn’t help to imagine what Erik looked like, if that sexy-ass voice had a sexy-ass face attached to it and they both didn’t have a sexy-ass wife attached to it.  A man in your apartment on Christmas Eve wold be such a gift. 

“I know it’s late but you’re welcome to come join me if you don’t have somewhere to be.”

Your boldness did something to Erik too. His heart did a quick jingle jangle as he shuffled nervously at your request. This woman with the sweetest voice and a co sign from grandma and a love for The Wiz wants him to come over. 

“You’re right, I don’t. Give me an hour to shut things down and I’ll be there. I do know where you live.”  Erik never hemmed a suit so quickly in his life. 

#erik killmonger x reader #erik stevens #red and green sprinkles #erik stevens x reader #y'all redeemed erik #so can I

[frogsmulder]

Maybe There’s Hope: chpt 2 Like They Used to

Starting from the final events of 09x20 The Truth,  Mulder and Scully tackle their new reality as fugitives. When they  finally settle into things, Scully finds out she is pregnant again. A canon divergent AU where I thought, what if Scully got pregnant whilst on the run instead of at the end of season 11?

2.5k words; rated e; tagging @today-in-fic; read on ao3

Scully woke up first and smiled despite herself. The warmth of the sun streaming through the window made her skin tingle, washing her of the pain the previous night. Eyes still closed, she hummed, rubbing small circles through the fine hair on Mulder's forearm. She must have turned over in the night, her back now nestled into his chest and his arm wrapped around her, cocooning her in his warmth. His breathing was still low and deep from sleep. She leaned into the rise and fall of his chest, his strength gentle like the lap of the sea at the sand. She imagined the steady beat of his heart like the sweep of a lighthouse in the dark, the guiding metronome she followed. If it wasn't for the fact they had fallen asleep in yesterday's clothes atop of a motel bed, Scully could have kept playing pretend like it was two years ago on one of their lazy Saturday mornings they had made a habit of. If she didn't open her eyes, maybe she could stay in that fantasy a little longer: she would kick Mulder out of his bed to make a pot of coffee whilst she snuggled deeper into the sheets. He'd come back with two steaming mugs and they'd sit together reading (she, her book and him, another X File). She'd enjoy teasing him, telling him that the weekend was for relaxing and not for work.

 "I am relaxing!"

 "No, you're not."

 "Yes, I am."

 "Prove it."

 "Does Agent Dana Katherine Scully always need proof for anything I do?"

 "I'm still waiting."

And then he would tickle her legs under the covers with his feet, almost making her spill her drink. Or he would kiss her just to prove a point. Or both.

Scully bit her lip to stifle a laugh at the memories. Opening her eyes, she let reality flood in. It wasn't two years ago, back when things seemed simpler, but it did feel like a Saturday morning– it might well have been, she had already lost track of the days. She turned awkwardly in Mulder's arms, one of them still a dead weight over her, and traced his laugh lines with her eyes. In the brightness of the morning, she could see the bags under his eyes weren't so heavy. He looked rested and happy, the natural curve of his mouth pulling upwards into a soft smile. She cupped his jaw, stroking his cheek with her thumb, feeling the rough grain of his five o'clock shadow. When he didn't stir, she placed kisses to his stubbled jawline, waking him up the way she used to on a Saturday.

With his eyes closed, Mulder mumbled in his deep, sleepy baritone, "Hello."

"Hi," she whispered back.

He opened his eyes to see her face waiting, almost expectantly, mere inches from his. "Do you want me to make the coffee?"

She smirked, wriggling closer. "I want you in bed with me."

"We might have to actually get in it then."

Scully frowned, displeased with the idea of moving. Mulder laughed at her tiny pout and smoothed her wrinkled forehead under his thumb. Lifting her by the elbow, he prompted her to get up so they could pull the cover back and climb in.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Hmm. You?"

"Yes." He tucked an imaginary stray hair behind her ear, finding any excuse to touch her. She held his hand in place by her cheek, making sure he wouldn't let go, and sighed, his larger hand holding her, comforting her, protecting her. A grin too wide for his own good appeared across his face when he understood her meaning. Scully rolled her eyes and kissed the silly grin from him.

It was a sweet kiss that steadily grew into something more. Mulder leisurely explored the taste of her lips and she opened up to the feeling, tasting his tongue playfully in return. When he moaned, she giggled, pressing their foreheads together and licking her lips. Her tongue had subconsciously traveled her lower lip, savouring the warmth he had left there, but seeing his gaze fixed to her mouth, she took her lip between her teeth just for show.

"You're such a tease," he chuckled.

"And you're not?" Scully looked into his hazel eyes, the familiar feeling of being lost in them, inching up her spine.

Mulder kissed her in reply: a full, heated kiss that put to rest any questions about who was the tease.

Scully combed her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, bringing them closer with her leg hooked over his hip. She would have giggled again at the roughness of his jeans against her smooth skin– a reminder of their strange situation– but she felt too good to stop kissing. He was awakening parts of her that she hadn't known in years; fuzzy warmth tingling through all of them to the tips of her fingers and toes. When he slipped the gown from her shoulders, his fingertips lightly tickling her skin, she didn't complain.

Mulder stopped to look at her: red, plush lips, misty blue eyes, hair somehow still immaculate. He felt his heart clench with that indescribable feeling. Returning his palm to her cheek, he tried to touch the sensation, make it tangible, and better comprehend it. Scully nuzzled into him and he realised that he would never understand how he was worthy of such love, especially the highest pedigree that was Scully's love. He was just grateful to know it.

He trailed his fingers over her shoulder, drawing patterns between the dusting of her freckles. Her pale skin glowed in the morning light; her hair caught like a halo of fire too. Resting his hands at the knot of her tie, Mulder cautiously looked up, asking silent permission to undress her completely. With a small simper, Scully nodded slowly. He pulled the robe from her and threw it haphazardly to the corner of the room.

"That's not even the corner with the chair in," she laughed.

"I know."

Scully kicked the covers down and Mulder nudged her onto her back, kissing his way down her neck. He pressed his lips to every inch of her skin, licking and nibbling until she was squirming and giggling. He was methodical, remembering all the points that made her moan and all the places that made her gasp like their relationship was still green. It was about the only thing he did methodically.

Upon reaching her breasts, he sat up and sighed, holding both of them in his hands. Gently palming them, he watched Scully bite her lip in anticipation and her nipples harden further as he swiped his thumbs across them. Leaning down, he pushed them together, first drawing his nose up the valley and then his tongue, blowing cool air on her wet skin afterwards.

Scully involuntarily arched her back when she felt his mouth swirl around one nipple. And then the other. Bolts of lightning shot to her core, warming her in that way that left a delicious, hazy ache in its wake. Eyes closed, she bit back a whimper, smiling, having missed the feeling for so long.

A different kind of ache began to settle in her breast and she tugged Mulder up, smirking at his glistening lips, to distract herself. His eyes, though dark, grew soft with concern.

"I need you up here with me," she answered.

"Of course," he smiled, crawling back up to her.

She pulled his t-shirt over his head and threw it perfectly into the chair. He stopped and laughed, shaking his head. His breath hitched when her hand palmed him through his pants. She wasted no time, deftly undoing them and pulling them down his thighs. He helped her the rest of the way and chucked them in a pile on top of his t-shirt.

"One-all," he grinned. "Looks like we drew."

She cupped his face– "We'll have to find a way to settle the score then." and kissed him, giving him as good as he gave.

Mulder shuffled awkwardly and Scully broke away, raising an eyebrow. He held up his boxers and waved them like a victory flag.

"Da-nah!" He scrunched them up and flung them to the chair with the others. "Two-one: I guess, I win."

"As referee, I disqualify that one."

"You're just a sore loser."

"I'm just trying to level the playing field."

"Do I still get to play?"

"Mhmm." She claimed his lips, burning with need, and let her hands wander the expanse of his back.

He rolled them over, so he was gazing up at Scully in all her beauty, her now longer hair cascading around her face, framing her features in fiery ribbons. He liked it longer, it reminded him of when she had first introduced herself to him. He had been so naive then to think she was on anybody's side but his. And she was still with him even now.

Yet she hesitated. The smile falling from her eyes was replaced with something unreadable that scared him.

"Scully?"

"Please... Please could you be on top?" she asked.

"Yeah." He let her climb off and lie down next to him, seeing her visibly relax as she laid her head down beside his, a meek smile at the corners of her mouth. He brushed her hair behind her ear again, repeating the soothing motion. "Okay?"

"Yeah, I just..." Being in charge of the situation, she felt that other ache deepen into something akin to dread. She couldn't place it and didn't know how to begin describing it to him as much as she wanted to. "... Don't want to be on top," she concluded.

"We don't have to–"

"No, it's not that." She shook her head and simpered, playing with his thatch of chest hair. Sighing, she ran her hands down further and told him a half-truth to ease his worry. "I'd rather feel you closer to me."

Mulder groaned when she held him and began running her fist up and down his shaft. She chuckled at how quickly she could elicit a response from him.

"Still want to play?" she asked.

"If you do."

Mulder waited for her to nod before moving ontop, cupping her face as she guided him home. He watched Scully bite her lip as he pushed in slowly, taking the time to savour every moment of her expression. She looked up at him with clear crystal eyes and he felt that tether between them strengthen.

"Hello," she whispered, pushing his hair up off his face. She kissed him, reveling in the searing heat they created between their bodies.

"Hi," he chuckled. "Okay?"

"Yeah."

He pushed languidly in and out of her, finding an easy rhythm like the gentle strength of the tide. They made love lazily, playfully– like they used to on their Saturday mornings– until the waves crested and crashed and he felt her shudder beneath him. He followed her, tumbling off the cliff, buried in her scent, her heat, her hair, her being.

Scully still clutching at his back, pressed his weight into her chest, fingernails digging in slightly. She was panting beneath him, so Mulder moved to give her some room to breathe, but she pulled him closer.

"Stay," she huskily implored him.

"I'm crushing you, Scully."

"Mhmm," she agreed, smiling shyly, distracting herself.

Mulder kissed her temple and nuzzled deeper into the swathes of her hair splayed across the pillow; the smell of her– them– as addictive as it had ever been. They stayed curled tightly around one another for a while until Scully softened her grip and let him go to the bathroom. He returned a few moments later with a warm washcloth and handed it to her. Enamoured, he watched her clean between her thighs, thinking it might be his favourite part of Saturday mornings. A close second then.

"I was gonna jump in the shower now; you wanna join me?"

She looked up and handed him the cloth back. "No, that's okay. You go ahead."

She stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, lips pressed into a thin smile that he assumed was meant to reassure him, but the detached look in her eye only made him anxious. Dejected that she didn't want his company, that she felt she couldn't share her trouble with him, Mulder nodded and went into the ensuite alone.

Scully sighed after he closed the door, cursing the heavy weight in her chest. It was like God couldn't let her have one moment of happiness without somehow tainting it, reminding her that her current situation wasn't happy, making her feel guilty if she found a small quantum pocket of joy. One arm wrapped around her naked waist, the other fiddling with her pendant, she huffed, pushing down the feelings, disregarding them as immature. She padded barefoot over to the chair, picking up her discarded robe on the way. She folded each garment neatly, placing them on the arm, apart from his t-shirt, which she wore. Clutching the collar to her nose, she inhaled the distinct smell of Mulder and sleep, dragging her back into that dream of lazy Saturday mornings. Whilst she was waiting, she made the bed: plumped up the pillows, straightened out and tucked in the comforter, even though she knew the sheets needed changing. It was just something to do to keep her occupied– she feared those emotions would rise to the surface given half a chance.

With nothing left to do, Scully found her thoughts scarily empty, instead only a feeling a magnetism drawing her towards the bathroom. Before she knew it, she had already turned the handle of the door and found herself sitting on the edge of the tub, watching Mulder run soap through his hair. She couldn't tell if it was the steam that was soothing, or if just being in Mulder's presence calmed her, but when he grinned upon seeing her, she smiled too.

He saw she was wearing his t-shirt that was ten sizes too big for her, the hem reaching halfway down her thighs. He hummed appreciatively. "I see my shirts have got joint custody again."

A simper played across her lips, but she ignored the comment. "We need to get some clothes, even if it's one set that we wash and wear alternatingly."

"I don't mind having only one shirt if it always smells of you." His voice was plain and candid and Scully couldn't tell if he was being serious, though he probably was.

"Practically speaking, Mulder, you would."

He shrugged. "I'm sure I could live with the burden."

He emptied an entire one of the travel bottles of shower gel into his palm and struggled to keep a hold of it all.

"Jesus, Mulder!" Scully laughed. "You don't need that much."

"You gonna help me with it then?" he cheekily grinned.

Mocking reluctance, Scully undressed and joined him under the shower spray.

#my fic #Maybe there's hope #dana scully #fox mulder #msr #on the run #xf fanfic

[ey8508]

Impermanence [ 无常 ]

Rumors and Secrets: Li Zeyan / Victor

[From the beginning to the end, he only cared about the most common thing.]

Note:

R&S for this card (CG above)

Chapter SPOILERS up to Season 2: Chapter 2-5 (read at your own risk)

Contains 4 chapters

Translation isn’t 100% accurate (or include grammar errors)

Every part for LZ’s dialogue would be in “this setting”

Do not repost to any other site (reblog is fine)

Chapter 1 Page 1 The night breeze was slightly cool, and the feathers slowly fell, like a misty dream. A feather was lying on Li Zeyan's palm, and he looked down for a long time as if he wanted to engrave this small white shadow in his pupils.  The girl asked him before leaving, what he would be like if all the external burdens were removed.  Maybe it's like this feather. He thought it was very light, small, and lying quietly in the boundless night, just like the countless feathers on the feet. At this moment, he, like everyone else, stayed in place listening to the countdown of the clock.  He believes that he will be saved in the future, but what about after that? Page 2 A gust of wind blew off the feathers on his palm, and Li Zeyan watched it land slowly, and sighed softly. I said I believed in her power, but I was still a little worried.  He spent so long waiting for a miracle, and the girl faced the whole world, how much did she have to pay? He took the pocket watch from his pocket.  The once shocking crack has been repaired since, and his fingertips lined up the smooth glass dial, and he seemed to see a light that did not belong to the eternal night in an instant. The distorted feeling of time and space suddenly wrapped him, and in a moment it led him to an unknown path- Page 3 Familiar streets, traffic lights alternately lit up at intersections, scenes tumbling thousands of times in memory, unfolded before his eyes again.  He breathed a sigh of relief. Lianyu City seemed to be calm again, the sun was good, and someone in and out of the supermarket on the street was carrying a bag. She did it, as he always believed. But after observing around, Li Zeyan found that there was a trace of violation in this familiarity.  He raised his eyes to look in the direction of Hua Rui. The building has fewer floors and the facade has not been changed to a glass curtain wall.  According to his memory, Hua Rui in front of him should be what it was when it was first established. Page 4 Did you go back in time?  Why did the pocket watch send him here? Li Zeyan was about to look away when the clear sky suddenly started to rain.  He subconsciously walked to the house spear on the side, and the moment he turned, but suddenly was alert to the petite figure. Li Zeyan suddenly stopped. The girl is walking towards a crossroad not far away.  Her face seemed a little more tender than she thought, she stared at the other side of the road blankly, took a small step forward, and stopped again, as if she was stunned about something.  Li Zeyan looked in her direction, and across the road was actually himself a few years ago. Page 5 He carefully recalled the past fragments in his memory, after the kidnapping in childhood, until later accidentally rescued the girl on the road, before that, he seemed to have never seen her. The signal light flashed several times, from green to red.  The girl in front of her has not taken any steps, and the opposite herself is ready to move on. Li Zeyan frowned as he watched this scene, and doubts grew in his heart.  Could it be that during those 17 years, did he cross her? Wanting to answer his doubts, he tried to get closer, but found that he could not get close to her.  The world seems to be repelling his existence. Page 6 As if hearing his wish, the world suddenly became quiet, and time seemed to pause.  Someone behind him tugged at his cuff, and he looked back and saw a little boy in a weird dress looking up at him. "It's better not to be discovered by her." The little boy in front of him was about seven or eight years old, smiling at him with a calm tone that was not suitable for his age. "Don't worry, this is the world you were in before, and you have indeed successfully traveled to the future of this world." Page 7 The little boy pointed to the direction behind him, "But there cannot be two identical beings in the same world, so you can't do anything here, and you won't stay for long. Li Zeyan frowned slightly, squatting down and looking at him. "Who are you and why do you know this?" "I know everything in this world, and I know why you came here." The little boy looked down at him and tilted his head slightly. "You are great, but the future is always full of variables. If you are not prepared,  everything will not go as desired." Page 8 The little boy slowly put away his smile.  Li Zeyan looked at his eyes, and the bright pupils seemed to reflect the light and shadow of the whole world. After a long time, he stood up and nodded slightly. "I know." The little boy laughed again, as if he had sensed something, and waved at him.  The distorted feeling of time and space strikes back, Li Zeyan finally raised his eyes and looked deeply at the familiar intersection. The scene that seemed to be about to be missed just now was printed in his mind.  He understands that after every choice there will be countless variables, but for this alone, he must make sure that nothing is lost. Chapter 2 Page 1 Back to the present time, Li Zeyan still has some characteristics.  Occasionally, he also imagined the future, whether it was good or bad, tacitly acquiescing to the premise that he would meet her.  But if there is no meeting, let her fight the world alone... He has no doubt that after facing the world’s greatest danger, she will grow better, stronger, and be able to stand alone. But the world is not destroyed, there are still many things to do in the future, and there may be many unexpected dangers.... And he promised her that he would never leave her alone. Page 2 There is no new crack in the pocket watch, and he still has the opportunity to reconfirm and look into the far future.  Li Zeyan used Evol again, and the pointer of the pocket watch rotated, chasing the time year after year.  At the moment of stepping into the vortex, the pocket watch suddenly made a continuous sound of "crack", and dense cracks covered the dial.  The familiar tearing sensation climbed to every inch of his skin, and a fierce pressure came from his chest, as if he was walking forward in a rush of countercurrent.  A huge loud noise appeared out of thin air in the otherwise quiet space, like playing an upside-down disc, screaming vaguely and harshly. Anyone's first response to suffering is to escape, but the consciousness he struggled to maintain is still reminding himself that time is running out and he must get there before the day. Page 3 When the ears finally calmed down, the cold sweat had filled Li Zeyan's clothes.  He held on to the wall beside him and took a few deep breaths.  When the dizziness subsided and his vision recovered, he carefully opened his palm to check the pocket watch. Fortunately, the pocket watch was not broken, and his judgment was not wrong. Li Zeyan observed his environment.  This seemed to be the inpatient department of a hospital. There were no people in the corridor, so when he turned his head, he easily saw the girl walking towards this side. Page 4 Li Zeyan walked to the corner and watched her walk into a ward.  This time the girl looks like she remembers, but she has a more confident expression, and her tone of voice is polite and generous when she greets the people in the ward. Li Zeyan smiled slightly, his eyes were filled with comfort and pride that he didn't even notice. After a while, the girl opened the door and left, frowning slightly, as if thinking about something.  Soon, the alarm sound of the instrument suddenly sounded in the ward just now, and the girl ran back after hearing the sound. A dark figure sprang from the ward with a cold light flashing in his hand and went straight to the girl. Page 5 "Be careful!" Li Zeyan shouted almost subconsciously, and the girl quickly reacted at the same moment, turning and running to his direction.  Just when he thought that the crisis could be changed, the instrument in the ward rang again, and the girl looked back. The man in black who's face couldn't be seen was getting closer and closer, and the sharp blade in his hand always declared a bright threat. The time of the whole world seemed to stop at this moment. Page 6 The blood in his body seemed to freeze instantly, and circulation came back after a long time... At this time, he sharply pulled his nerves.  From beginning to end, he only cared about such a simple thing: I hope she will live safely, no matter how the world evolves, he will come to her again. But right now, what he worries most still happened.  He could not see the result of that scene, and the huge repulsion urged the pocket watch in his hand.  However, just seeing her being chased by danger was enough to make his long-silent fear all come to his heart. This is not the future he wants to see. He does not accept such a situation. Even if it is only a small possibility, he will never allow. Page 7 The sharp pain of the body enveloped the throbbing of the heart, and he finally closed his eyes, and the flow of time brought him back to the original point. This pain made him clearly realize that he still needs to do more preparation. Chapter 3 Page 1 When Wei Qian received Li Zeyan's call, there was not much time left before the end. The long-standing habits made him subconsciously act in response. The task given to him by Li Zeyan is not difficult. Contact an Evolver who has the ability to transmit sound. Wei Qian remembers that this person is a member of Wumingdao and his contact information should be on the list.  The phone vibrated again, Wei Qian picked it up and took a look, then widen his eyes in surprise. It was Li Zeyan’s text. He said, ‘I’m sorry, for troubling you at this hour.’ Page 2 In his impression, the CEO rarely speaks in this tone. Although he is a strict boss, he never gives useless tasks.  Even if he is asked to deal with some personal arrangements occasionally, it is definitely not a "trouble".  Wei Qian just froze for a moment, and then quickly responded. "President, you are welcome, this is what I should do." Perhaps it is because everyone has to be beaten back to the original point by force majeure, and many people no longer care about their social relationships.  But Wei Qian didn't think so. His life creed always looked upward. Even if it was just a small favor, letting him know that there are people in this world who needs him, it is not a waste of time. Page 3 Li Zeyan walked out of the bathroom and put on a clean casual shirt. When he returned to the present from that hospital, he almost lost his strength and had to hold the table to stabilize his figure, accidentally knocking down a stack of documents.  He noticed that the form that fell out was a list of personnel compiled at the beginning of Wuming Island, and it simply recorded the identity and ability information of each members.  Li Zeyan's mind flashed through many records on the list, and finally stopped on an Evolver that once interested him.

The pocket watch can no longer bear more pressure, and the countdown to the future is constantly approaching. He is not sure what he will be like after the end. He must change everything now. Page 4 Wei Qian’s message came in time, saying that the Evolver had been contacted and he is now on Huapu Street.  Li Zeyan asked Wei Qian to send him Souvenir's address not far from Huapu Street, where they could meet. Not much time, but enough.  He must be able to do more. Chapter 4 Page 1 When Li Zeyan arrived, Souvenir had put up the store closing sign, and a young man was sitting at a small table outside the store and playing with his mobile phone.  When the young man saw Li Zeyan, he was taken aback and blinked. "You, are you the boss of Wumingdao? You’re  the one who is often on the news." "Hello, this is Li Zeyan." Seeing Li Zeyan stretched out his hand to him, the young man hurriedly put down his mobile phone and stood up and shook his hand firmly. Page 2 The meteors in the sky became denser, and the two of them did not say much, and went straight to the subject.  In summary, the youth’s ability is to “send” the voice at a specific point, and at the selected time point, directly convey what they want to say to the designated person.  Although you can choose any time, the number of messages in a short time is limited. The young man looked at Li Zeyan's frowning eyebrows, and tried his best to think about the words. "You can understand it as a microphone. My Evol is the line connecting two paper tubes, but after all, it's just a line. It's hard to talk like face to face." Li Zeyan thought for a moment and nodded. "How many times can I leave a message?" Page 3 "According to the time span you choose, you can stay about four times. But if I work hard, I can do it again." " Thank you." The young man looked at Li Zeyan and didn't feel any hesitation from him. He didn't seem to be worried about the outcome of this incident. "That... Have you ever been through this crisis? Mr. Li, you do this to make sure we can survive" "I am sure." " Why?" Page 4 "Because I saw that future." The youth froze for a moment, "But even if this message is successful, the future may not develop as you want." Li Zeyan looked at him, and seemed to be looking at a figure that emerged in his mind. "It doesn't matter. The future is still very long, I have the patience." He is always patient, waiting for her to get the hang of it. The young man unlocked his mobile phone and handed it to Li Zeyan. Page 5 "I'll give you a reminder later, just say it as if you were calling." Li Zeyan took the phone and looked at the blank call interface.  He still likes to talk about important things in person, but it is undeniable that there is often a time difference between people.  As the little boy said, many things are probabilistic events and will not be as you desire. He cares about results more than form. The young man began to use his abilities, and a slight electric current sounded in his ears and ripples appeared on the interface of the phone.  A feather suddenly fell from mid-air, slowly staying on the small table between the two of them. The evening breeze turned it slightly, and the soft feather gently rubbed his little finger. Page 6 Li Zeyan bent his knuckles subconsciously, and in a daze he could still feel the girl's slender fingers hooking on him, chanting various promises. They still have many unfinished agreements.  Only when you meet again can you keep the appointment. "The timing is set, is President Li ready?" Li Zeyan recovered and put the phone to his ear.  The young man cleared his throat and closed his eyes. "Hello Miss MC, here is a message from the past. President Li, you can say it." Page 7 Li Zeyan thought of the back standing still at the intersection, gently curved his mouth. " Dummy..." "Why are you hesitating?" The bell rang over the city, and the expected end had arrived.  The dense meteor shower is like someone who has burnt a match in the night, illuminating the eternal night with dazzling white light. Page 8 Li Zeyan looked up and saw a nearly transparent light curtain shrouded under the white light.  The body seemed to lighten a bit, and the ability to melt into bone and blood was summoned from a distance, as if someone was pulling him to his side. The hands on the clock tower stagnated briefly, and in the next instant, they moved slightly in the counterclockwise direction.

#rumors and secrets Victor #love and producer #love and producer li zeyan #mr love queen's choice #mr love queen's choice victor #mr love victor #mr love li zeyan

[poison--ivory]

Get back Up Chapter 4

The bits of his nightmare are still fresh in his thoughts and lingered on his mind. The black holes of what should be eyes strangled him without him even touching his body.

His mind started playing false scenarios of this nightmarish creature in different scenarios. He imagined going to sleep and being startled awake. Coming to the realization of not being able to move, paralyzed from head to toe. Trying to thrash himself around to get his body to react to any of his muscle spasms. The suspicion of an unknown entity within his room made him feel uneasy and if he could just flinch awake and scope the area out the feeling would simmer down and slowly go away.

His first mistake in this scenario was to blink. That's all it took was a quick closing of the eyes and a single second for that suspicion to grow into terror. A misty shadow from the corner of his eye darted across the room and disappeared into the darkness. Having anything in your room while you slept would cause anyone to feel restless. Next he closed his eyes again and the shadow rushed right beside his bedside. He made out features on its face and body, nonetheless the eyes and the mouth threw him off. Its mouth was too far stretched out causing skin to peel and the teeth didn’t make this any better. Sharp enough to cut wood without breaking or even cracking. But, it’s eyes are what tie it together. Beady, cloudy, white eyes peered through black sludged sockets. His mouth slowly shifts with each calm breath and the insufferable, rotten smell of his heated breath blowing down at his face. The stench of bad meat filled his airways and the contact of the creature's saliva slid down his forehead and slowly made contact with his ear. He knows it's just a dream, but it feels too real to be anything near it.Then soon after he’d arched his back up to and the creature seemed to be gone. Thereafter he had the troubles of trying to fall back asleep again. But, the feeling of someone still in the room with him staring daggers into the back of his head caused him to flip over to gaze at the wall. The little kid in him would come out at that point and would try to justify to itself that curling up underneath the thick, warm blankets would keep him safe.

This scenario was the most unsettling when he thinks about it. The others are subpar at best when compared.

Anthony couldn’t speak, it was like his mouth, his tongue to be more specific swelled in his throat and was expanding with each second passing. He took huge gulps of air in to make sure his esophagus was working. That hellish nightmare still had him drench in cold sweat, harsh chills rolled up and down his spine and he couldn’t fight that image from his night terror out of his thoughts. He can still feel the searing hot flesh of the beast’s gaping jaw swallowing half his body before snapping down on his waistline. He still hears the breaking of his spinal cord and the gushing noise of fresh blood hitting the cramp space walls and the warm feeling of liquid escaping his nostrils and mouth, overflowing and consuming his airway passages. He’d be lying right now if he didn’t feel a little bit of pain in his chest. The painkillers worked miracles on his body. But, they didn’t stop the constant panging of discomfort still in his chest cavity.

He officially loathes whatever creature (Y/n) married. Anthony really doesn’t want to admit to it, but this peculiar man petrified him. He could already feel the bile rising and burning his windpipe. The acidic fluid rose up and out of instinct he swallowed, his old man always hated it when he couldn’t make it to the toilet on time. That and it’s pretty disgusting cleaning up partially digested food out between the fibers of a carpet. The only thing that would come up at this point would probably be the tea he drank earlier.

The only thing stopping him from spilling his stomach acid on the tile floor was the fact (Y/n)’s children were staring at him, they had just shoveled food down their gullets and he didn’t want to start a puke fest. Even though it would be hilariously gross to freak out little kids. He still wanted to hang onto the last strain of dignity he had left and little kids came up with the worst nicknames that could shrivel his ego down into size.

“Are you. . . okay, Tony?” Her mellow aura consumed his disquiet appearance. She lightly held his hand and guided him over to the table situating him in her seat, taking her half finished plate with her as well. “Are you hungry, because we still have some eggs and bacon left. I can make you a small plate, if you want?” She was already reaching for a clean plate before he could even form a complete sentence. He ignored the stare of the beast’s harsh gaze.

While (Y/n) focused on piling his dish and the man sitting across from him stared him down. Anthony glanced over at the children. The two older kids sitting diagonal from him looked very similar and were talking in a language he really couldn’t describe. They both had pretty long hair and shockingly similar side profiles, eye shape and lip shape. The girl and boy took more after their mother in both features and energy.

The other kid was amazingly small to the other two. The tiny child peered up at him through bang covered eyes like he felt him staring at him. Now that he's thinking about it he recognized this kid as the child from the couch earlier. He was much smaller on closer inspection. He has a decent size beauty mark on the left side of his face underneath his chestnut brown eye. His hair style is nearly the same as his fathers, although he found it cute on this kid from the latter. This kid seemed to be very docile, hugging a small pastel green pillow, snuggling it up against his face and chest. On closer inspection of the petite child he noticed the really far away blank look in the boy’s eyes. Kind of like a dead goldfish.

His thoughts were interrupted by a high pitched voice.

“You're very weird looking, ya know.” The older boy spoke up a smirk pulling on the corners of his mouth.

If he could slap a kid and get away with it he would do that in this moment.

“That’s what Sage told me earlier when we snuck in to see you, he also said your legs look like chopsticks.” He shoved his face deeper in the soft material, still gazing directly at him. He hasn’t blinked yet the small bright red veins proved that.

“Well, I’ll have you know that many people find me attractive.” The two young boys raised inquisitive eyebrows at the older man then laughed. “What the hell are you two short stacks laughing at?”

“Your dialect it’s very funny.” The girl chimed in, gazing up from her pile of eggs she’s been picking at since he sat down. “You usually hear your type of voice on cartoon shows.”

“Excuse me for having such a great voice.”

“Yeah, a great voice to keel over to.” The older boy laughed harder. “Ya sound like a cartoon mob boss.”

“Mmh, really funny sounding.” The girl chimed in.

At this point he just really wanted to eat whatever (Y/n)’s puts in front of him and just go back to sleep, again. Her children were a prick on his dick and the total opposite of what he expected would come from between her legs. Well, they do have half of the demons genes in them and would explain why the youngest seems so weird and the other two to be. . . themselves.

(Y/n) strided back over her hips swayed from side to side and she sat a hot plate of eggs and sausage down next to him. She smiled at him before returning back to the sink, not before getting a harsh slap on the ass from the bastard, clashing dishes filled the kitchen’s already noisy room.

Anthony could feel the saliva build up in his mouth as he took in the savory smell of seasoned meat and eggs meeting his nostrils. He must have looked like a slob heaping large amounts of egg into his gaping jaw. It’s been awhile since he’s had a nice meal, he’s usually used to small snacks and the strict health regimen that Val put him on. Even when eating with Cherri it was usually something unhealthy or a quick to go item before he performed on stage.

He was so enamored with the food he didn’t even see the man sitting at the other side of the table rise until he heard giggling. He looked up for a split second before hurriedly turning his head back to the plate. Anthony really didn’t want to see two people kiss especially when he’s eating. Like those high school couples who makeout in the doorway of a classroom, well at least it’s in their home and not causing a problem. But, right now he didn’t want to up chuck what he just ate.

“See you after work my dear,” Another smooch could be heard then he sauntered over to the three kids. Lightly pecking his daughters cheek before ruffling his two sons heads. “Be good for your mom and be nice to our guest while he’s here. We don’t want anything unseemingly happening while he’s in our caring hands.”

They probably didn’t hear it or just ignored the way he phrased the word, but Anthony sure did. Like he planned to do other things to him while he stayed here. Before he could fully make eye contact with the beast itself the man already was walking out into the corridor leading to the front door.

A minute later he could hear the jingling of keys scraping against glass and a door opening and slamming shut. Silence took over the room and he noticed that the two older kids finally stopped laughing. Their breathing slowed down for a bit before they continued their onslaught of giggling.

The dead eyed child was staring at him again. It annoyed him more than it scared him. The young boy blinked a few times before he shoved his small face into his pillow not bringing his head back up.

Anthony mustered up a small chuckled and returned to his plate eating every last piece. He was sensible enough to actually walk his plate over to the sink that would be a lot more helpful, but he’s mostly doing it to squeeze more info from (Y/n).

How the hell did someone like her end up in a relationship with that monster. She has to know some weird secrets about this guy. Or at least tell him how she got stuck in this marriage.

Anthony set his plate off to the side of her, she smiled at him nodding her head before placing the next dish in the drying rack. “So. . . your face is telling me that your brain has a lot of questions for me.” A smirk graced her features, he hated that she could read him like a book. Her wet hands dried themselves on her sweatpants, “Can you guys go play upstairs, while mommy talks with Mr. Anthony.” The two older kids left without question like this were trained into their brains. But, the youngest seems to sit firmly in his chair not even budging an inch or showing any choice of leaving. His intense gaze focused in on (Y/n), she heaved a big sigh picking the small child up and sat down with him. The pillow was quickly forgotten by the small boy as he wrapped his thin arms around his mother.His short legs hung lifelessly on both sides while his arms latched on for dear life around her neck and shoulders. “I hope you don’t mind the extra passenger. We also have to make this quick. I have to edit some papers of mine before the due date.” She managed a meek smile.

“No, I don’t mind.” Anthony glanced back at the small child and the deadlock grip he had on her. “He’s a real mama’s boy, huh.” He smirked.

“He doesn’t like being left alone.” She pushed the boy up further to situate him in a better position, a loud roar of thunder broke the short silence. Making the small boy gasp in shock and burying his face deeper into her neck. “So, you have some questions you want me to answer, right?”

“Yeah, how the hell did you end up with him!” He exclaimed.

“Didn’t I already tell you this earlier or are the meds warping your brain.”

“No,I remember but, I want the full story this time. From beginning to end with no holes.”

(Y/n) paused, her facial expression going dead for a moment before coming back to life and she smiled sweetly at him.

“I’ll tell you the whole story, Toni. But, it’s pretty long and kind of weird now that I think about it.” The kid in her lap settled down on her lap nicely like a small cat or a non hyper dog. “So, buckle in because I’m going to tell you quite a story.”

Anthony situated his back further in the wooden chair, his gaze solely focused on her and only her. Strong yet such kind eyes stared back at him and he could see why someone would fall for her. A forced swallow of air down his windpipe left a weird aftertaste in his mouth.

Releasing a big sigh he nodded over at her to continue, “I’m ready.”

The little boy turned his head around address his presence,"Just tell the story, mama."

"I'm going to give me a minute I'm trying to think of good starting mark." Her eyes lit up with her smile as she stared me down. "Well if I had to start the story off at. I guess I have to start it at a small cafe over a order of venison."

#hazbin hotel au #hazbin hotel human au #human au #human angel dust #human alastor #alastor being a jerk #alastor being alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel

[saviorinsilk]

Supreme 5, Y/N 3

Ship: Cordelia Goode x Female Reader

Words: 1 422

"You can't be serious," Cordelia said in awe, her jaw slacked into a surprised expression. You were sitting on the bed you and Cordelia shared, the softness of the cotton sheets against your bare legs feeling like heaven. You were in your floral nightgown, hair pulled up in a messy bun, glasses perched on the ends of your nose. It was well past midnight but it had been a long Friday night full of games and storytelling by the fireplace with all the girls in the house, which was definitely worth the late night. You and Cordelia had retired to your room a few hours ago, sharing a hot bubble bath before getting into your PJs and putting fresh sheets on the bed. Cordelia stood in front of you, running a comb through her wet tangly blond hair.

"Ah yes, I am. A baby sloth is definitely the epidemy of cuteness." You said, smiling at your wife. Cordelia shook her head, her glasses slipping down her nose a bit as she did. "First of all, look you at you using your big girl words," She teased, referring to the small vocabulary you usually had, "And second, there is no way that a baby Sloth is cuter than even an adult Armadillo." You scoffed, scooting up to the headboard as you slipped your legs under the light pink blanket. "Baby, did you hit your head or something? Because I don't think you understand what you're saying to me right now." You spoke in a voice you would use to talk to a young child, as you cross your arms. Cordelia rolled her eyes, setting the comb down on the bedside table. "Sloths are like giant, live stuffed animals. I mean those eyes?? They are so cute and round!" You gushed, hugging your arms to your chest and rocking back and forth slightly as if you were rocking a small sloth to sleep. Cordelia picked up her phone and began to google a picture of what she thought was the definition of cuteness. "Ya, not to mention those massive claws that could take your head off with one swing! Or the fact that they are so lazy! They don't move. They literally just hang there." She wined, climbing onto the bed next to you as you rolled your eyes and scoffed. You couldn't believe that the woman you married, the leader of your coven and the future mother of your children thought there was anything cuter than a sloth. It was a ludicrous idea. When Cordelia finally found a picture that she thought captured the right amount of cuteness, she scooted in front of you. You were distracted for a brief moment by her exposed thigh, were her cream nightgown had ridden up. Geeze! Not right now! You scolded yourself. There's no time for sex, we are at war! Cordelia held her phone screen close to your face, too close in fact, making you back up slightly, squinting at the bright screen in the dimly lit room, but Cordelia didn't even notice, her excitement over the tiny shelled creature too strong. You shrugged, which pissed her off even more. They were cute, but nothing compared to the beauty of those little beady-eyed potato sack babies you loved so much. "They look like mutated turtles. They are creepy, not cute." You said in disgust, hamming up your reaction since you knew it riled her up. "HOW DARE YOU!" She shouted, completely forgetting about the house full of witches that lay asleep around you, not to mention it would be the most appropriate thing imaginable if they were awoken because their Supreme was in a battle about baby animals. You exploded into laughter as she smacked you playfully, but roughy across the shoulder. You held your fingers up to your mouth, shhing her, which only got you another slap. "Geeze baby, don't be so rough! You're turning me on." You teasing in a sexy voice, a satisfied smirk taking over your face. Cordelia picked up her pillow and was about to ram it into your face when cursing sounded from outside your door. Without knocking Madison pushed the closed door open, her face unimpressed, reeking of annoyance. "Goddammit would you two shut up! Some of us are trying to get our beauty rest!" She groaned. There were whispers behind her and you didn't need to see into the hallway to know that Zoe, Queenie and Misty were all there as well. "Ask them what they are fighting about!" Misty's thick southern accent drawled, curiosity in her voice. Cordelia seemed unbothered by the fact that they had just barged into your room but you were too excited about the prospect of gaining others on your side to care either. "Guys come in here!" You called excitedly. As the four girls piled into your candle fill sanctuary, Cordelia straightened out her nightgown and readjusted her glasses. "Were you guys fighting over animals?" Zoe asked, a smile on her excited face. She wore small shorts and a tank top, the supers heat stopping her some wearing nothing more than that to bed. You nodded quickly and elbowed Cordelia in the side playfully. "Delia here thinks that a baby Armadillo is somehow cuter than a baby sloth." You couldn't even say the sentence without laughing. "No way! Sloths are way cuter!" Queenie squealed. She was too in her summer PJs, all the girls where. You raised your fists in the air in victory. "I have to go with Miss Cordelia on this actually," Misty said, glancing from me to her best friend. "That's just cause she's your best friend!" Zoe exclaimed, "Baby sloths have those big wet pink noses. I bet they a squishy too. I am so on your side Y/N" She said, sighing dreamily. Everyone turned their attention towards Madison, both you and Cordelia holding your breath to see which she would pick. Madison threw her hands up in defeat. "I'm so done with this. I vote twice for Armadillos, their skin is as hard as rocks, just like my heart. There. Cordelia wins. Woohoo. Now can you love birds please go to bed or make out or something? I don't care just as long you shut up so I can sleep." Madison said in the most unimpressed voice you had ever heard from her. She groaned as she stormed out of the room loudly. You sighed in defeat and face planted into the mattress, hiding your face in shame. Cordelia winked at the girls who remained and they made their way to the door. "Anyways, Madisons right. You two show make out or something, You're just too adorable together." Zoe practically sang as Queenie shoved her out into the hallway with laughter as she shut the door, leaving you two alone once more. A few moments passed and you felt Cordelia's fingers in your hair. "Fine. You won. Supreme 5, Y/N 3" You grumbled into the pillow, remembering exactly how many times she had won arguments. Cordelia chuckled softly as she ran her fingers through your hair. The middle-aged women leaned down and kissed your head that was still in the sheets. "You know, Zoe's right. We should probably make out or something because I think one argument you're definitely never going to win is the one where I say you are the cutest creature I have ever laid my eyes on." Cordelia whispered into your hair. You couldn't help be smile stupidly despite how much you wanted to pout. You lifted your face back up to the land of the living and flipped onto your back. Cordelia readjusted herself so that she was now hovering over you, her eyes filled with desire as she leaned down, kissing you gently but with the passion of a strong confident woman. You kissed her back, wrapping your arms around her neck, tying yourself to her warm body, in the hopes that you would never have to separate from her. "I don't know about that Delia. You're kinda the most beautiful Witch around." You teased, whispering against her plump lips. It didn't really matter who had come out on top that night, because no matter what animal you thought was cuter, what season was better or what colour better suited your bedroom walls, what you both could agree on 100% was that both of you were the luckiest women in the existence. You had each other and no one would ever argue the love you shared.

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[afaimsarrowverse]

The 14 Creepiest Arrowverse Villains:

Yes, this one should have been made for Halloween. But after the year we just had, let’s take comfort in the fact that were are not forced to ever meet this guys here on the street in the dark. While two of the villains on this list had rather big seasonal arcs, I specifically disqualified characters from here, have proper motivations and character arcs as well as villains, who are creepy but at the same time quite a lot of fun. This why you won’t find Alice, her Mouse, Ramsay, Eobard, the Trickster, Mallus, Neron or even the Thinker here.

This list mainly consists of people we want to put back in the box, they got out of, until not seeing them at least for a season or so, and who we want to yell at: „What’s wrong with you!“ while they are on screen.

 14.  Toyman Senior (Winslow Schott Sr., Supergirl, Henry Czerny)

Technically this one should not be on this list, because he was redeemed in Season 5, however that happend after his death and on Earth Prime rather than Supergirls Original Eart,h so we will ignore that for now (also I wrecked my head whom from „Supergirl“ to put on here, so I overlooked that on purpose). Toyman is more creepy as a concept than in reality. He blows up kids (and other than the Trickster is no fun at all while he is doing it), threatened the life of his son to get his wife to leave him and did God knows what else to said wife and son. And did not even stop terrorizing people after his death. Can you imagine growing up as Toyman’s son? Poor Winn, you truly deserved better!

 13. Bug Eyed Bandit (Brie Larvan, Queen Bee, The Flash, Arrow, Emily Kinney)

Yes, it’s because of the Bees. Because she controls Mechanical Bees that sting and kill people! I am sorry, but what’s your problem, can’t you just kill your enemies like a normal person, Brie? Not to mention the whole Felicity-thing, because yes it’s totally normal to go around and kidnap and threaten to get what you want and then try to murder again. I still do not get why they let her into the Young Rogues anyway, but then … most members of that gang were all wrong, weren’t they?

 12. Garfield Lynns (Arrow, Andrew Dunbar)

Most of us have tried to forget about Season 1 Episode „Burned“ for several reasons. But the villain of it is also one of those. Because, yes Mick was a Pyromanic as well, but for more complex reasons. Garfield Lynns was a fire fighter who started burning people and ended burning himself to death because of reasons and … well let’s be honest, he was nuts and burning people is not cool at all!

 11. Jake Simmons (Deathbolt, Arrow, The Flash, Doug Jones)

That’s what you get, if you hire a creature actor (no offense, Doug, we love your work!) to play a psychopatic villain. Occasionally kind of fun, yes, but mostly Simmons is crazy and creepy, and we never liked him very much, but crucial Captain Cold killed him with a flimsey excuse, which no one ever bought, and let’s put it that way: If Leonard killed him just like that, there had to be something wrong with him in a big way, and yes, the hints were there, so, yeah, what a creep.

 10. The Mist (Kyle Nimbus, The Flash, Antony Carrigan)

A former Mob Hitman that looks like that and can turn into Mist. Do I have to say any more? I would take Victor Szasz over this one any day. Because Nimbus … well you would not want to meet him during a misty night, would you?

 9. Murmur (Michael Amar, Arrow, Adrian Glynn McMorran)

This one actually cares about his grandma, I will give him that, but SOMEONE SEWED HIS FUCKING LIPS TOGETHER! So you don’t really like looking at him, and he kind of went over board after he was pressured into joining Damien Darhk with, you know, killing everyone and joining HIVE, who as you recall planned to end the world as wen know it, so what about everyone elses grandmas, they can just die or what? No, Mister Amar, there is quite a lot wrong with you, that’s for sure.

 8. Everyman (Hannibal Bates, The Flash, Various)

That one could be a tragedy, but well, he got so mixed up and wrong in the head, that he became a danger to everyone else. He is creepy trapped between shapes and he is creepy in other shapes because … you don’t just go around and kiss random women, who think you are somebody else. That is just wrong. But Bates is kind of mostly wrong, so, yeah.

 7. Anthony Ivo (Arrow, Dylan Neal)

Ivo is Sara’s Personal Case of #Metoo, which really should be enough to earn him a spot on this list, but there is also his habit of keeping people in cages and the whole „You have to choose, whom I shoot dead!“- thing and all of that is only the tip of the iceberg. Not even Dylan Neal can stop me from wanting to scream at the top of my lungs: WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?! at Dr. Ivo.

 6. Nocturna (Natalia Knight, Batwoman, Kayla Ewell)

We all know the story how Nocturna was not allowed to show up in the Animated Batman Series in the 90s, because she was considered too disturbing (Morbius on the other hand was allowed to show up in the Spider-Man Cartoon but had to … undergo some changes, which made a perfectly good vampire into the creepies cartoon-villain ever unleashed on kids and scarred me for life, but that’s another story). Here she finally is, and yes, she is rather disturbing. Because she acutally knows very well that she isn’t a vampire, but still strings her victims up and bleeds them out, after biting them with laced spikey teeth. It would be kinky, if it were the least bit sexy, which it totally isn’t, so yeah, put her away for good please.

 5. Vandal Savages Hawk Creatures (Legends of Tomorrow, Various)

Season 1 of „Legends“ was quite different than what came after, but „Night of the Hawk“ was an early highlight. While it was kind of a parody, being Season 1 it still played it straight for the most part, which resulted in an episode with the vibe of „American Horror Story“: We are in on the joke, but it’s still Horror. No wonder, after all Joe Dante directed this one. Vandal Savage turned poor teenagers into hawklike monsters, that no one would want to meet … ever. So yeah, thanks, but no thanks.

 4.      August Cartwright (Ethan Campell, Batwoman, John Emmet Tracy, Sebastian Roche)

Oh, God, that guy. So his mother wasn’t particulary ... nice, but that is no excuse to kidnap, gaslight, and brainwash a young girl, keep that girl’s mother’s head in a fridge for years, turn said girl into a slave and get her to make facemasks out of actual human face! Nor is that any excuse for fear-gasing your own son just because you are mad at him. Or anything in any way related to face-stealing, ,killing, identitiy theft, or anything else Dr. Cartwright has ever been up to. Like, seriously it has been a long time a character that desevers to be hated that much has been on our televions screens. Creepy Creep!

 3. Duela Dent (Batwoman, Alessandra Torresani)

Female Slashers have become kind of a common trope in fiction by now, but Duela is kind of different. Suffering from a pretty extreme version of of body dysmorphic disorder Duela sees beauty through a different lense than the rest of the world (we will never forget what she deems to be her face being perfect, even though we desperatly want to). So yeah, she slashes faces, mainly her own, is out to punish people, who force beauty ideals on her and othes, and somehow has no problem with … donating her face to Alice. … Can someone please get that poor woman help, I mean, seriously?!

 2.      Rag Doll (Peter Merkel, The Flash, Troy James, Phil LaMarr)

He did make Joe West throw up. And not only him. Rag Doll is plains disgusting. So disgusting actually, that the producers dialed him back in Season 6 and used more CG and less pratical „Troy James freaks us out“- bending. But while he could be fun all elongaty, we actually prefer him as his creepy original Season 5 Self. He is demented, wears a creepy mask, acts creepy, and we really don’t want to see him do his stuff but can’t look away at the same time. I have no idea why he was in the Young Rogues either, because he is really mainly creepy – und would be the Overcreep on this list, if it weren’t for….

 1.      The Dollmaker (Barton Mathis, The Broken Doll Killer, Arrow, Michael Eklund)

I am still amazed to this day that they were allowed to make this episode. You have to remember „Arrow“ had been only on for one Season at this point and „The 100“ was still about to premier. The CW was yet to change it’s image. Still they somehow got to made the Dollmaker-Episode, which left us disturbed to this very day. What Mathis was doing to his victims …. Well not only Quentin got nightmares about it. Poor Laurel went understandable full addict after almost being made into a puppet by him. So, Rag Doll might look creepier, but the Dollmaker is one of this Serial Killers we never want to even hear from again. It’s really no wonder he was an one-off, like I said, I am still amazed they were even allowed to make the episode on Network Television let alone The CW at all.

#Arrowverse #Creepiest Villains #Arrow #The Flash #Supergirl #legends of tomorrow #Batwoman

[amwritesitall]

Sarah’s AHS Characters (+Alice and a Ship) as Songs I’m Vibing With

Masterlist

Instead of a collection of songs from one artist these are songs I’m currently vibing with? Here’s the playlist if you wanna listen (warning it fluctuates a lot because it’s just songs a vibe with at the moment). I skipped the songs I used in artist posts.

Billie Dean Howard

“24 / 7/ 365″ by Surfaces

Met, this girl down by the vine Had long tan legs and big brown eyes Seemed the type I would wanna make mine

She said nine to five, I'm killing time But twenty-four-seven, three-six-five I have to be where I feel your sunshine

One to two-step, three-step, four She's everywhere out on the dance floor She's everything you could ever want and more

Picture it. Billie Dean is at some event. She spies a girl who’s mesmerizing, killing it on the dance floor. Realizing this girl is absolutely the person she wants to be with. The line “I have to be where I feel your sunshine”!! Big Billie Dean vibes right there. In the darkness that her job sometimes entails, she’s drawn to the light of her lover. A ray of sunshine if you will.

“Heaven Falls / Fall on Me” by Surfaces

Woke up early in the mornin' Just to feel the light of day Had to open up my window Get the shadows out my way Banana pancakes for my problems Find me jamming old Jack Johnson Swear I heard them angel calls Lay outside

As Heaven falls Heaven falls

If you can’t tell, Surfaces really makes me think of Billie Dean. This goes with my explanation for the other song. Billie’s job gets pretty dark and intense. Although she never completely gets a break from her job (because she can’t just turn off being a medium) she tries to use her time away from filming and darker locations to focus on the lighter aspects of life, savoring all around her and her lover. I have no idea if what I said makes sense though.

Lana Winters

“Let’s Fall in Love for the Night” by FINNEAS

Let's fall in love for the night And forget in the mornin' Play me a song that you like You can bet I'll know every line I'm the boy that your boy hoped that you would avoid Don't waste your eyes on jealous guys, fuck that noise I know better than to call you mine

This song gives me Lana vibes in the sense that she doesn’t really want to get too attached to people. This also makes me think of how Lana is the type of lover that someone’s conservative/strict family wouldn’t want them with (because of the gay). When you go this route, it’s hard for me not to picture teenage Lana when listening to this.

Fun fact: I have a vague idea for writing a Billie Dean Howard x Reader imagine over this song.

“me & ur ghost” by blackbear

I'm not alone It's just me and your ghost And this cripplin' depression I thought I learned my lesson But, I threw out my phone And I burned all your clothes And now I'm not alone It's just me and your ghost

Now hear me out. Post break up Lana dealing with all of her memories of her ex and then burning all of their shit because Lana is lowkey that bitch. It’s a bit of a stretch, but that’s just my humble opinion on the matter.

Cordelia Goode

“If We Were Vampires” by Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit

It's not the long, flowing dress that you're in Or the light coming off of your skin The fragile heart you protected for so long Or the mercy in your sense of right and wrong It's not your hands searching slow in the dark Or your nails leaving love's watermark It's not the way you talk me off the roof Your questions like directions to the truth

It's knowing that this can't go on forever Likely one of us will have to spend some days alone Maybe we'll get forty years together But one day I'll be gone Or one day you'll be gone

Cordelia knows that one day she will die. There will be another Supreme after her and she can’t live forever. This is her coming to terms with the fact that maybe it’s for the best that she won’t stay around forever. Not being immortal allows her to live in the moment and savor all the time she has.

“PlantedInMyMind.Memo” by Charlie Burg

Saying things I don't believe And your love casts it's shadow on the things I do And I can hear so clearly all the words I'd wish I'd said You're stuck in my head But I only think of you Will we be together soon? I'm thrown on the wayside You're planted in my mind But I don't wanna be ok without you

This makes me think of an angsty Cordelia relationship like post “In Another Lifetime”?!?! Cordelia being stuck on her lover from the past 

Also makes me think of Cordelia x Misty after the events of season 3

Bette and Dot Tattler

“prom dress” by mxmtoon

I can't help the fact I like to be alone It might sound kinda sad, but that's just what I seem to know I tend to handle things usually by myself And I can't ever seem to try and ask for help

I'm sitting here, crying in my prom dress I'd be the prom queen if crying was a contest Makeup is running down, feelings are all around How did I get here? I need to know

I guess I maybe had a couple expectations Thought I'd get to them, but no I didn't

I’m not going to lie, this is a bit of a stretch.

I’m kind of getting Bette and Dot wishing they could be like everyone else. They just want that normal teen experience?

Sally McKenna

“Teeth” by 5 Seconds of Summer

Call me in the morning to apologize Every little lie gives me butterflies Something in the way you're looking through my eyes Don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth Late night devil, put your hands on me And never, never, never ever let go

The angst! The tension! The passion! SPICY TIMES WITH SALLY

“fuck, i’m lonely” by Lauv, Anne-Marie

I call you one time, two time, three time I can't wait no more Your fingers through my hair, that's on my mind I know it's been a minute since you walked right through that door But I still think about you all the time

Sally just wants love. She’s sick of being lonely and wants to be with the person she loves. Being a ghost sucks and she wants out of that damn hotel.

Dealing with her ex that is still alive while she’s not.

Audrey Tindall

“Prom Queen” by Beach Bunny

Shut up, count your calories I never looked good in mom jeans Wish I, was like you, blue-eyed blondie, perfect body Maybe I should try harder You should lower your expectations I'm no quick-curl barbie I was never cut out for Prom Queen If I get more pretty, do you think he will like me?

Teen Audrey. I will stand by this.

Now I’m thinking about teen Audrey and my heart :(

Ally Mayfair Richards

“I Needed You” by blackbear

When I needed you the most, I needed you I fucking needed you the most, I needed you, the most Now I won't be there to give you what you need Now I won't be there, no

You know this was never really about us And everything was always 'bout you You never knew a thing about trust And I knew everything about you, what's happening Three whole years, they can go by In a blink of an eye, and you won't know it, but What a damn waste of time

You can’t sit there and tell me this doesn’t sound like Ally dealing with Ivy’s betrayal. No. There is no way this song doesn’t give off those vibes. Like sis was dealing with a ton of shit and where was her wife??? Off gallivanting and murdering with a cult because she voted for Jill Stein. 

Wilhemina Venable

“Lovesong (The Way) [feat. Bluets]” by Charlie Burg 

Now you're away with nothing to say My heart aches like never before Filled with desire, you've inspired me to write another verse

I think we're alone now You can tell me it was all just a game Yes, we're alone now But the feeling's slightly changed

But you take your time, my love Don't ever tell me that it just takes time to love As long as I'm writing this song about my love for you Is it too much to ask For a reply? Or a text? Or a way to tell you love me like before

I don’t knooowww. This just makes me think of Mina trying to deal with her feelings and possibly her significant other kind of giving up because they feel like Mina will never reciprocate their feelings. Mina does love them but it’s hard for her to express it.

“Someday” by Peach Tree Rascals

I hate the fact that you Run on mind, all damn day There she goes

Girl won't you wait for me

I settled down, I'm better now I never knew what this life was about Days got too plain, colors got dull All of the roses fell on to the floor I'll pick them up, wipe the dust Need a chance for your love For your love, for your love, ooooh I've been floating between oceans And the darkness in the sky I've been lonesome in this old shed And it's burnin through my mind

Similar to the song above, Mina hates the fact that she’s stuck on this person, but she eventually realizes that she needs this person in her life. This love really out here making her appreciate life and all the good things in it.

Basically Mina is turning into a softie.

Alice Macray

“Mariposa” by Peach Tree Rascals

I can't wait for you To come my way I've been far away But I'll keep runnin' Just to find a way to you til' then

I been running from it Tired of running from it Scared of feeling something now I'm stuck and tryna get up out of this hole

Surface level this song has some good vibes like our baby Alice. Over analyzing level is not as good vibes. This song is kind of like our baby Alice running from her feelings for someone because the thought of such strong feelings is scary for her.

Billie Dean Howard x Audrey Tindall

“Channel Orange in Your Living Room” by Charlie Burg

We met when I was drunk That party didn't actually suck You made fun of how slow I drank

But now I can't stop thinking about you Each moment passes and my thoughts return to you And the memory of us too As we listen to Channel Orange in your living room

Even when you're away That album makes me feel like you stayed To listen now would make me a fool again for you

Without a doubt, I always think of these two when I listen to the song and that’s one of the reasons why I love it so much. I’m just picturing the two of them meeting a party together and Billie taking Audrey back to her place. Then they end up thinking of each other long after the night is over.

-

You might like:  Sarah Paulson AHS Characters as Hozier Songs or  Sarah Paulson AHS Characters as Rex Orange County Songs

#shit post #hc #headcanon #billie dean howard #lana winters #cordelia goode #cordelia foxx #bette and dot #bette and dot tattler #bette tattler #dot tattler #sally mckenna #hypodermic sally #audrey tindall #ally mayfair richards #ally mayfair-richards #sarah paulson #wilhemina venable #alice macray #bille dean howard x audrey tindall #mrs america #ahs #american horror story

[avoutput]

Gaps Between Worlds || Live, Love, Link

Nothing keeps a story going like a love interest. In almost every adventure story, at some point, the hero flirts with love, falls into it, is blinded by it, or is even betrayed by it. Love is the strongest emotional connection we share as humans, a double edged sword that can drive us, but also hinder us. Even when a story lacks a love interest, the listeners might begin to imagine one just to keep themselves interested. One adventure series has lacked cannon love for such a long time, it's hard to imagine how it’s been kept alive in our collective consciousness for as long as it has. The Legend of Zelda has jump-cut to Link saving Zelda so many times, but remains nebulous on what kind of relationship blossoms from their journey. As a longtime fan, I have been starving for more from the world of Hyrule, and I think fans across the world agree with me. The official Nintendo Hyrule Timeline wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for pressure from the fans. Before that release, it had been locked inside the mind of Miyamoto, creator of the series. But it didn’t really whet my appetite, because what I wanted is to know of Link and Zelda. Today, we are going to explore the facets of Link and Zelda’s many re-incarnated relationships, which could have turned into love, and where they must have gone after Gannon was sealed and their adventure came to an end.

Before we go any further, the usual caveats to my writing, just so you can get where my head is at. First, I am not going to be super concerned with minute details of the timeline in its purest sense. It has a tenuous linear connection from one game to the next, but it still can provide a little fun for us to speculate on. Second, I have completed every mainline adventure with two exceptions. I have made it to the end of Link’s Adventure and Twilight Princess, but I just never walked up those steps to beat Gannon. I can’t really put my finger on why, but usually I just lost interest by the time I made it to the end of the game. Everything else, including the GB, GBA, and DS releases, I have completed.

In the beginning, one of the most bizarre parts of the overall Zelda lore is how little we actually discuss Link’s obligation to do anything for Zelda. As the games mature, they motivate Link in more realistic ways, but I felt that they mostly lacked a real punch. Lets imagine you DID NOT read the manual for the NES titles, the original LoZ, it just starts by breaking the 4th wall. I always thought it was funny that it just drops you into the mountains with absolutely no direction, as if to say, “You bought the game, dummy, do something! Press a button… ooo… check out that cave!” However, what actually happens is Link saves Zelda’s handmaid, Impa, from an attack by some of Gannon’s henchmen. She then begs him to find the 8 fragments of the Triforce of Wisdom, which Zelda has hidden in 8 dungeons, and he just resolves to do it. In the next game though, she’s just struck with Sleepy Disney Princess disease. Classic. But have you ever noticed that true love’s kiss wasn’t an option here? That’s because Link is not her true love in this incarnation, so he has to kill the curse maker. LoZ and Link’s Adventure are directly related, so we know that in between the two games, they never became lovers. And I don’t know if you need any more proof about these games, but if you ever watched the 80’s Zelda cartoon… you’d know she’s better off.

Climbing up this timeline, we end up at the incredible Link To The Past, a story that’s titular description kind of defies its storyline unless you are really paying attention. Either way, the game has Link, a descendant of Hyrule Knights, being woken up by a psychic message from Zelda. As usual, Link has no real discernible parentage, but he does start off with an uncle. As I grew up, I often wondered if this was his real uncle or the Asian kind of uncle, just an older man with the same familial distance as an actual uncle, just not actually related. (It goes without saying that the west has this kind of uncle as well, but rarely does it rear its head as ubiquitously as in the east) Who knows what happened to his parents, the game never really goes into it. Either way, he runs into his possibly real uncle after following Zelda’s request, only, he is mortally wounded, and with his final breath, he begs Link to take up his blade and his responsibility. Again, he is motivated simply by some sense of obligation, but there is never a moment's glance of flirtation or love. By the end of the game, he revives his Uncle, the Priest, and the King, only to get on a boat and end up ship wrecked on Koholint island, where he dreams up a girl who is much more likely to become someone he could have a life with rather than Zelda.

Let’s take a quick moment to recognize Link has about 5 or 6 games that have nothing to do with his relationship to Zelda: Link’s Awakening, Oracle of Seasons/Ages, Majora’s Mask, and Minish Cap to name a few. In these games, it rarely meditates on his relationship to his previous adventure or the girl he left behind. Link is a very forward thinking… little boy? Adolescent? Teenager? It depends on the game. The more I think about this, maybe the more obvious it really is supposed to be. Zelda, Link, and Gannon are reborn into conflict over and over again. It’s possible that the stories that we play through are the only time they are born into a point of conflict. Basically, Link and Zelda might be born into a world without each other. Maybe the world only falls into chaos when all 3 of them are born. Maybe only when a certain amount of power accumulates on the dark side. The story just makes room for whatever it finds appropriate.

Climbing up the timeline, we get to the only game that implied young romance, Ocarina Of Time. Granted, it kind of dashes this with Majora’s Mask, but it's possible he could return to Hyrule for love. He is only 10. Still, in OoT, Link is the only character that keeps his memory of both the young timeline and the teen timeline. When you think about it, Link is pretty mature for a 10 year old, but waking up in the body of a 17 year old would throw you a bit. People in the future might have found him odd… if they weren’t scattered to the winds and mostly worried about famine, death, and Gannon. In both his young and teen timeline, the Zora princess is very interested in him, and yet, the game still ends with a longing look between Zelda and Link, Link remembering everything, Zelda new to the whole thing. Now, I am willing to admit that as a kid, I probably misread this as a longing look, as an adult, it's really just the culmination of Link’s struggle to finally right all the wrongs, but I was a young shipper, and I wanted everyone to fall in love. (You are reading the thoughts of a boy who was super upset that Ash wasn’t awakened by a kiss from Misty (or Pikachu), and instead the tears of all the Pokemon. I almost walked out of the theater. I was a fresh-faced 13.) Given everything we know about both games, and that we know the timeline splits here, it would stand to reason that since in either case, triumphant or not, Link doesn’t end up making baby Link and Linkles with Zelda. In the Triumphant Timeline Child Era, none of the games end with Link in love, including Twilight Princess. In the Adult Era, the Wind Waker series of games always finds Link closely aligned with Zelda, but the whole cell-shaded, PG universe basically ensures that all the people of Hyrule are grown out of the ground, like palm trees on the beach. In the end, Link always makes for the nearest boat or horse and follows the sun, trying to escape the PTSD that haunts him.

Finally, at the very beginning of the timeline is the largely maligned Skyward Sword. As of this writing, SS is the supposed beginning to the entire legend. It is also one of the few games where there does seem to be an infatuation between Zelda and Link. Throughout the game, they share what looks to be a mild flirtation. When I thought about this budding romance, I began to think it only appears that way because of some cultural filters. First, Nintendo likes to make games for kids, so they aim to get an E rating by the ESRB. So if we ratchet that up to M, the standard for modern day games if you want people to take them seriously, we can adjust the love meter on scale with E = Sesame Street and M = Breaking Bad. They might as well be engaging in some hard sexting, maybe a couple of low-cut Link bathroom mirror selfies. Don’t worry, he has his famous hat over the goods. Why do you think its shaped like that? Secondly, mild flirting in Japan is the equivalent of hardcore furry S&M in America. In actuality, what you are really seeing is the courtship of Link in a Wolf costume and Zelda dressed as a Fire Keese batting eyes at each other. Truly, in this world, Link and Zelda are destined for each other. They are the only freaks in the sky! With this assumption, I can conclude that the legend only continues because once, at the very beginning of their timeline, the Triforce of Courage and Wisdom banged it out. This could mean there is a whole series of games we have never played where the timeline is split at the top. One in which they have children and one where they don’t. Personally, I look forward to their kids journey in The Legend of Steve, the new holder of the Triforce of Wisdom. Let a girl save the boy for once!

There is always hope for our legendary heroes. You may not want them to be joined in glorious, child-making coitus, but I always have. I have always found it odd that it doesn’t end like most JRPG’s with a very obvious death of the “mains” so that love can’t blossom, or with a lavish royal wedding. The worst part is that often, Link has many love interests, but none of them are Zelda. There is some hope for them in the new Breath of the Wild timeline, which is supposedly the furthest in the future of the “official” timeline, so much so that there is no connective tissue left, so it might as well be a “new beginning”. I would actually hate for them to finally, really, fall in love in the BotW universe, mostly because it's my least favorite Zelda game of all time, squeaking past Skyward Sword and Wind Waker.  All 3 of which I dislike for a combination of gameplay-style and story, though honestly, the best part of BotW is the story. It's just a game I never want to play again. Rambling aside, I look forward to the fate of love between Zelda and Link in their next chapter. Maybe we’ll finally play as their love child some day. 

#Articles #Gaps Between Worlds #Legend Of Zelda #Link #Zelda #Links Adventure #Ocarina of Time #Skyward Sword #Nintendo #Gaming #Links Awakening #Majoras Mask #Link to the Past #Link Between Worlds #Oracle of Ages #Oracle of Seasons #Minish Cap #Twilight Princess #Wind Waker #Skull Kid #Zora #Shipping #Pokemon

[youareiron-andyouarestrong]

39 + 87 + rebelcaptain

survival/wilderness + aroused by the sound of her voice 

always had high, high hopes 

It could be worse was the first thing Kay had said after the meeting that officially declared he had been put under Cassian’s jurisdiction. The one they got after Cassian had to convince Intelligence and the members of the Council that walking into the Rebel base with a reprogrammed Imperial enforcer droid was a good idea. 

It could be worse, Kay had said, they could’ve dismantled me down for parts and had you demoted. 

Intelligence agents don’t get demoted, Cassian had replied. We get burned. 

Oh. Kay had sounded like he was recalculating his formulas. Not much worse, then.

Since then, it became a kind of mantra Cassian had adopted. It could be worse. That was what he told himself when times became darker and harder. Things could be worse. He could be dead. It was always easier to feel a little better about your immediate situation when you weren’t irreversibly dead. 

After… well, everything, he had made the mistake of saying such around his team (his people, his network, his rogues). Then of course, inevitably, someone (Bodhi, Kay, Baze, Jyn) would start listing all the ways it could be worse. They could be stuck on a swamp planet. Bodhi could be missing another arm. Baze could lose all his guns, and the spare grenades. Jyn might miss the evening meal. The suggestions would become increasingly more and more ridiculous as time went by and they stretched their imaginations (which were truly considerable) to the limit.  It became a game, a slightly morbid one perhaps, but one that amused them at least, and allowed for them to gently tease Cassian out of his darker moods. Of course, someone would eventually trump them all with pointing out, We could all be dead on Scarif. And then game would end, at least until the next time someone said, It could be worse. 

Cassian was trying to remind himself of that now. Things could be worse. 

He and Jyn were on an uninhabited (hopefully) forest moon, true. They were laying low from the Imperials searching for them, that was nothing new.  Practically routine. It would be about seventy-two standard hours before their ship came into orbit and Kay and Bodhi could reach them. They had food and shelter and it wasn’t raining anything other than water outside their little cave. Frankly, Cassian had survived on less than that. 

If it wasn’t in a Force-be-damned cave, then he might’ve gone so far as to say he had definitely had worse. 

But it was a cave, and anything that wasn’t in the immediate city proper was outside of his experience and thus Cassian hated it. None of his training had covered wilderness survival. He had been placed solely in cities and military bases and maybe an outpost or two, if he was unlucky. He had never needed to learn to survive in anything other than outside the law and within the Empire, and that was hard enough by anyone’s standards. 

This was probably what kept Jyn from needling him too much about his (entirely deserved) grousing. When it was established that they were stuck here for the next seventy-two hours, Jyn had simply nodded, and said, “Time to find shelter.” In the time it took for Cassian to try to set up a transmitter and send Kay the needed coordinates, Jyn had found them a cave, wove a curtain of vines together to disguise the opening, found firewood and then headed out and returned with this particular moon’s species of fish. Somehow she’d gotten wet wood to catch flame and was now comfortably cooking what she’d neatly gutted and cleaned out of her catch. 

Cassian could only blink at her. 

Jyn raised her head, caught his bemused stare. “What?” she asked. “I learned with Saw. He was pretty empathetic about it, actually.” 

“I can see that,” Cassian said finally. “How did you get the fire to catch?”

“I keep a little bit of flint in my pack at all times,” Jyn replied. “Plus, I used your spare flimsy.”

Cassian’s head snapped up at that, only to see Jyn’s grin flash like silver in the gloom. “Very funny,” he said flatly, in much the same tone of voice he used when Kay was attempting to be comforting or encouraging. 

“I thought so,” Jyn replied comfortably, giving the fish a little tweak. “I only used my spare flimsy.” 

The fish was good. Better than good, though Cassian had privately wished he could have a little pepper, maybe some spices to season it. He had given Jyn some of his closely hoarded supply of coarse salt for the fish, a small packet he kept on his person at all times. Along with roasted in the embers an edible root Jyn had also found and brought back, it was, all in all, not the worst meal Cassian had ever had. 

“Are we starting the I’ve-had-it-worse game again?” Jyn asked as she smoored the fire. “You’ve got that look on.”

“I can think of other things to do,” Cassian said, mostly for the form of it.

“Mmm.” Jyn settled down comfortably. “Better string them out, if we’re here for the next seventy-two hours.”

“I have my datapad,” Cassian said, his eyes drifting closed. The sound of the rain was soothing, the smell of woodsmoke and fish comforting, and Jyn’s voice a pleasant hum in his ear. “I could get some coding done.”

A chuckle escaped Jyn. “With what signal?”

He opened his eyes then to give her a look, which just made her chuckle again. “City boy spy.”

“Civilized,” he grumbled, not with any real heat. 

“I can’t believe you never had any wilderness training,” Jyn said, stretching out in the heat of the fire like a lazy felid. “My next training for the Pathfinders is going to cover that.”

“Poor bastards,” Cassian murmured, just to hear Jyn’s chuckle again, a sound he valued more than the beep of a transmitting code, the whirr of a well-programmed droid, a whisper in the crowd, Fulcrum, freedom and rebellion一 “And I wasn’t stationed in the wilderness; there was no use for me there. I was more useful in the cities.” 

“Useful,” Jyn echoed, and then shook her head. “It was still short-sighted and ill-prepared. When you write the report for Draven, you can tell him I said so.”

“He’ll take it under due consideration,” Cassian replied and Jyn snorted. 

A companionable silence fell between them for a moment, until Jyn tilted her head back to glance outside. “We’re going to have to share body heat once nightfall comes.” Her profile was averted to him and her voice now dispassionate, which might explain why Cassian’s initial response was an absentminded “Hmm.” Then when what she said registered, he let out a startled, “Pardon?”

“Body heat,” Jyn repeated, now stubbornly facing away from him. Hiding a blush? The rich light of the fire made it hard to tell. “Plus the bedding. The ground’s not going to do your spine or leg any favors,” she added with a scowl in her voice. Any mention of his bad leg or back always made Jyn glare like she’d like to make the misbehaving tendons and bones work for him, or else.  “And I don’t know how much the temperature is going to drop between now and nightfall. Probably a few degrees, enough to make us uncomfortable. So it’s only practical.”

Cassian felt himself automatically move to wet his lips before checking that tic. Never mind she couldn’t see it.  “I’ll trust you then.”

Now Jyn did look at him, straight through the firelight and into his eyes. “I know.” The words vibrated with the seriousness of the statement, and how Jyn was going to follow through with it with every fiber of her being. The dim red gold light make her look gilded and shadowed, something wrought from gold and onyx and ivory. 

Cassian gave an involuntary head shake. This what came of being in caves. They stripped away all your common sense. 

*

The night came on, and Jyn’s prediction about the temperature came true. It was more than enough to make them uncomfortable and to break out the temperature conserving blankets. Jyn had layered their bedding as much as she could and rolled up their jackets to use as blankets and pillows, as needed. One thing they both knew all too well in this life of theirs was to sleep whenever it was offered to them. Jyn slept facing the fire, and Cassian’s back to the right wall of the cave so that they both faced the entrance. He ran warmer than Jyn, who always seemed to be a degree or two cooler than everyone else. There was some awkward fumblingーwhere to put his arm, where she could rest her head. But they managed it. Cassian could smell the woodsmoke clinging to her hair, the weave of her scarf under his head. He kept himself as still as possible behind her, resting on his good hip. 

It didn’t feel like his life, this part, this small island of quiet. His life was shadows and hard edges and smog filled skylines. It wasn’t the smell of rain and the warmth of a fire on his face and Jyn resting on his arm. 

This wasn’t his life. It was just a respite. 

*           

Cassian woke slowly, only to find that the fire must’ve died down at some point during the night. That would be the only plausible reason for why Jyn was currently so thoroughly entangled with him that he couldn’t tell his arms and legs from hers. 

It was either still dark or almost dawn. That strange, unreal, dreamlike time when the edges of the world were misty and indistinct. It could be worse, he tried to tell himself, registering Jyn’s warmth and her slow, steady breathing. The way her cheek rested on his arm. How relaxed and soft she was in sleep, such a contrast to her waking self.  Things could definitely be worse一

Jyn let out a sigh, a little sleepy sound of pure contentment, snuggled back into him, her rear fit so snugly against his hips that he almost choked. 

He did not want to think about any other time Jyn might make that noise. He absolutely did not want to imagine what other circumstances could possibly arise一

Shut up, Cassian told himself only somewhat frantically. Just shut. Up. He wasn’t some over eager teen falling all over himself over a member of the opposite sex--

Jyn rolled over in his arms, somehow one leg sliding between his, blowing all of Cassian’s rational thought to pieces. Another soft sigh, warm breath brushing against his neck, her left leg slung over his hips一who knew Jyn was a cuddler? Not him. He hadn’t even given himself permission to imagine what Jyn was like when she was asleep一

This is a dream, Cassian thought. It was arguably the worst (best) dream he’d had in awhile, so he might as well enjoy it while it lasted, and hoard the memory for the dark nights and shadowed days. 

Jyn sleeping peacefully in his arms, soft sighs in his ear, warmth against his skin, the sound of rain and a quiet place untouched by anything bad or hard and dark一 

Another sleepy sound, almost like a moan as she tried to get comfortable against him, tugging his arm to better adjust it for her head… 

Don’t let me wake up, Cassian thought. Please, ancestors, the Force, whoever is running this forsaken galaxy, don’t let me wake up. Let me keep this, I have asked for so little for all my life, and this isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, it’s probably the best, please let me keep it… 

Jyn sighed against his neck, shifted slowly and languorously, her lashes falling and rising against his skin. “Cass…?” her voice was a low, husky rasp, one that made his blood run hot and fierce and what time was it even? Was this still a dream somehow? 

In the dim light, he could see Jyn waking herself up, getting her bearings again. Her eyes flicked down to take in their entwined limbs and then back up to his face. Unconsciously his arms tightened around her, and then loosened again immediately. If she didn’t want to be there, then he wasn’t going to keep her there, he would never do anything against her express wishes if he could possibly help it.

“Cass,” she repeated in a whisper. If she wasn’t comfortable in this clench, there was no sign of it in her voice. But her eyes were watchful. “How’s your back?”

“I think it’s fine,” he whispered back. It felt too early to speak. 

Jyn was quiet for a second or two, her fingers flexing against him.  “You need to… do you have to go?” he asked still in a whisper. 

“No,” she whispered back. “Do you?”

Never, ever, they could kill me here and I would die content, only you’d never allow that一

“No,” he said. “I don’t.”

They lay there in the dim, the world a very great distance away. 

“We don’t have to go anywhere,” Jyn said softly. “We can just stay here… just for a little while.”

“Yes,” Cassian agreed. This was, after all, a very nice dream. “Let’s just stay here.”

The corners of her mouth lifted into a smile, a smile Cassian had once thought he would die to earn, and maybe still would. 

“You make for a very good pillow,” she murmured, her body utterly relaxed along the length of his. “Best sleep I’ve had in awhile.”

Cassian was silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Me too,” he said back, almost too low to hear. But she heard it. Of course she did.   

#star wars #rebelcaptain #skitzofreak #prompts #my writing #otp: and make death proud to take us

[quarterfromcanon]

1-4. For the asks

Thank you so much for sending these! <3 

Once I started to answer them, I realized there were comparatively few recent television shows appearing on the list. I seemed to keep gravitating toward older ones I remembered from years ago. I took a handful of days to mull it over in case I was forgetting something, but nothing else comes to mind. Maybe my ongoing list of Shows to Watch During Quarantine will turn up some fresh results but, for now, it looks like I’ll be taking a little trip down memory lane. :) 

This turned out to be a pretty long and rambly post, so I’ll stow it under the cut!

Top 5 TV Shows 

1. Crazy Ex-Girlfriend - I can’t imagine this surprises anyone who has been following this blog for the past two years or so. It brought fellow fans into my life, got me back into writing fic, and prompted countless tags of meta. It’s the show my mind drifts to on a weekly basis (if not daily) even a full year after the finale. Just when it seemed I’d reached an age where that level of intense fandom involvement and character attachment might be fading, it proved that quite the opposite was true. I’m very thankful to the series for that, and for the people whose paths have crossed mine as a result.   

2. Schitt’s Creek - This is my #1 Feel Good show and, though I’ve been dodging spoilers for the final season until it gets uploaded to Netflix, I get the impression that it will remain in that top spot. The world feels softer and more hopeful there. It’s healing for my soul. I’m going to have a dreadfully difficult time saying goodbye, but I’m glad there are six season to revisit whenever I want. 

3. Stranger Things - The theme song alone sends such a rush of excitement through me. I love the aesthetic and the atmosphere. I sometimes have mixed feelings about the romances but the FRIENDSHIPS sure do have a direct line to my heartstrings. I think the way they’ve combined media influences into their own story is really neat. You get something that’s new and engaging, but you can also go back and enjoy the sources of inspiration with fresh appreciation. 

4. Joan of Arcadia - I can’t help it. The snark, the jackets, the early 2000s songs, the performances -- the nostalgia for this show is so strong. It’s not without its problems, but it did have some really good things to offer as well. I remember an episode that was one of my earliest introductions to the concept of a trigger, and the effect it could have on a person if exposed to one of theirs. The series dealt a lot with grief and the many forms it can take (I STILL can’t hear Fiona Apple’s cover of “Across the Universe” without getting misty-eyed). I’m also surprised, looking back, at the somewhat positive way I recall them discussing homosexuality on the several occasions that it came up in the show. Not to give too much credit since I don’t think there were recurring canonically LGBTQIA+ characters but, for a kid who spent most days around closed-minded people of a certain religious leaning, it was meaningful along my individual journey. I’d like to provide the several examples that are most vivid in my memory:

A. A girl with short hair, short nails, little to no makeup, and a bulky leather jacket is generally assumed to be a lesbian by the bullies at school. The show directly confronts the fact that “gay” should not be used an insult, that identity should not be assumed without the person telling you so, AND makes sure that the character in question never pushes back by saying harmful things about lesbians despite not actually being one herself. 

B. A boy who is questioning is able to confide in his big brother and have a fairly calm conversation about it; the awkwardness mostly comes from neither of them being accustomed to openly discussing emotions, not from the possibility of a negative response regarding the subject matter. 

C. Another character is accidentally discovered to be gay (he only appears in the one episode, if my memory serves), and some of the leads have the opportunity to share that for personal gain. However, even though he is a popular jock who is a bit of a jerk in the hallways, the show makes it clear that the right choice is still to leave the telling of that information up to him and him alone. 

Like I mentioned, it can’t be said that representation was in abundance here - for instance, I don’t believe anything other than straight or gay was presented as a possibility - but any accepting acknowledgement in a faith-centric series was something for me to hold on to in my still-deeply-closeted days. As a final Very Important personal side note, this show brought Judith Montgomery into my life (pictured below on the left), and that feels like it merits a shoutout for being what I consider a rather significant marker in my awakening. 

THE OVERWHELMING CRUSH I HAD - and still have - is one for the books. 

5. Pushing Daisies - This is another show with an aesthetic I adore. The series has such a fun, whimsical energy. The crime-solving! The clothes! The cast! There's a lot to love. It’s the kind of world I wish I could visit... well, minus the evidently rampant murder rate. 

Top 5 Overrated TV Shows

1. Once Upon A Time - *deep sigh* I tried to stick with it for so long. I think I’ve seen five out of the seven seasons in their entirety. It just felt like everything got mired down by excessive (and increasingly convoluted) subplots, often for the purpose of tossing in as many fairytale and/or Disney characters as possible. Plus, quite honestly, there was too much emphasis on romantic love. For a show whose first season involved a curse being broken by [potential spoiler, I suppose] a mother kissing her son’s forehead, I ultimately found myself up to my ears in romantic ships. It reached such a stifling extent that, if you were not particularly attached to those pairings, there wasn’t a whole lot else to entice further viewing. 

2. Under the Dome - I don’t know for certain what the general public opinion of this series was, but it felt like the commercials always featured alleged rave reviews, so I figured I could include it here. I was vaguely interested in Season 1, mainly as a fan of Rachelle Lefevre’s work. Season 2 pulled me in with the introduction of a new townsperson and I threw WAY too much of my heart into that attachment, which backfired when that character was killed. I made quite the spectacle of my heartbreak, so much so that my family doesn’t let me mention this show around them anymore. :P Season 3 was, to phrase it delicately, not a great time. The series did introduce me to a few new-to-me actors, though, so that was cool. 

3. Bates Motel - Even the incentive of learning that the two characters I liked most share a lot of screen time later in the series hasn’t been enough to call me back to this one. I don’t know if it was the pacing that put me off or what, but the prospect of finishing the remaining seasons feels so daunting. There are evidently five seasons in total and I believe I’ve only seen two of them thus far. I will probably muddle through it someday just to see how it goes, but the fact that I am so disinclined to prioritize it made this feel like a fair addition to the list. 

4. Lost - My interest in this series unfortunately waned right before fervent fandom spiked. I don’t have any specific complaints that come to mind about what I saw; I just sort of drifted and then stayed away. Teachers I liked and peers I spent time with were starting to latch on to the show and I couldn’t find even the slightest inclination to give it a second try. However, did I still dutifully read all the latest installments in my friend’s Sawyer Ford and Kate Austen fanfiction when she passed me handwritten copies at lunch? Sure. I was glad it made her happy, even if I was no longer a viewer. 

5. Hemlock Grove - I say this as someone who still mourns the fates of some characters in this show, so I wouldn’t go so far as to claim that the series stopped being able to make me feel anything. I’m just of the opinion that, in some ways, it might’ve been better off stopping at one season. That’s where the book it was based on ends, and things just didn’t feel as cohesive after that. Season 3 especially was - borrowing from my above review of Under the Dome - not a great time. That being said, there are also certain elements from the book that I could’ve done without in the Season 1 adaptation but... well... here we are. 

Top 5 Underrated TV Shows

1. Picnic at Hanging Rock - Another one that won’t surprise followers of this blog. I have rhapsodized about it quite frequently since I found it a little over a month ago. It’s a period piece mystery miniseries with LGBTQIA+ representation, gorgeous costumes, and Samara Weaving. This felt specifically designed to wedge its way into my heart, and I’m quite content with the space it now occupies.

2. Dark - I’m so intrigued by the overlapping timelines with all of the morally gray characters. It’s possible to like one of these people in the timeline where they’re young but dislike them as adults, or vice versa. It also makes me think of Rant by Chuck Palahniuk a little tiny bit with the idea that time travel, specifically tampering with your own timeline, might make you physically and behaviorally unrecognizable to yourself. And the SONG CHOICES! I have gotten some solid new music selections from this series. 

3. Sense8 - I still need to watch the finale. I really do. But I knew it would make me sad so I’ve avoided it for... two years now? Pretty close, I think. The concept is fascinating and the cast is so strong. Plus the cinematography! They came up with some of the coolest ways to depict the link these characters share and what it’s like when they connect over distance. The planning and careful editing it all must’ve taken... I remain in awe. 

4. Penny Dreadful - There were definitely some story/writing choices I didn’t particularly like along the way, but I did get engrossed in the creepy goodness and the performances -- Eva Green’s Vanessa Ives most of all. It left me wishing for more period piece “monster mash” stories, because having all those classic characters in one place was a blast. It also helped me understand why Helen McCrory was once slated to play Bellatrix Lestrange because she can be terrifying. Oh and Sarah Greene in her Wild West outfits? Perdita Weeks with short red hair in fencing garb, and later in all leather with boots and a long jacket? I WAS NOT PREPARED AND I HAVE STILL NOT RECOVERED. I NEVER WILL.

5. Wonderfalls - There’s some cringe-inducing handling of certain representation in the series, but I have such a weak spot for quippy outcasts who become reluctant chosen ones (Joan Girardi in Joan of Arcadia, Wynonna Earp, Jaye Tyler in this series, et cetera). I also really love the sibling dynamics here. They bicker, tease one another, help each other out of trouble, and have rare but genuine heart-to-hearts. Caroline, Lee, and Katie all did such a great job blending their characters’ adult personalities with certain childhood attributes that rise to the surface in the presence of family.  

Top 5 Movies

1. Addams Family Values - I’ve rewatched this movie at least once annually since I found it in Media Play at age 13. Usually, I’ll play it around Halloween or, at the latest, Thanksgiving. It’s mouth-along-with-every-line level ingrained in my memory. I find myself leaning forward in my seat before favorite parts because I’m still that excited to relive them. Why this movie, and why this devotion to such a degree? It’s hard to explain, even to myself. I can tell you, however, that I hold up every other portrayal of the Addams characters to the versions found in this. Everybody in the cast just feels that perfect for their part. 

2. Clue - I was already pretty fond of this movie to begin with, but then my sister got older and claimed it as a favorite of her own, so now she just supplies me with further excuses to watch it repeatedly. It’s also been a bonding piece of media with a couple of close friends and such through the years. It’s incredible to think not everyone in it was the first choice for their roles; what everybody brings to the table is so top-notch that I wouldn’t have it any other way. I also LOVE knowing that it originally went to theaters with different endings depending on which showing you attended. I gather people weren’t terribly thrilled with the stunt back then, but I kinda think some moviegoers would be into that approach these days? Then again, one hit that tried something different tends to start a fad, so maybe I’d end up regretting the suggestion after a while. :P

3. The Craft - This. Movie. Yes, Act III is a major bummer even though I know it’s coming, and I’ll always wish it ended differently. Even so. This. Movie. I tend to headcanon mostly for shows and sometimes books, but The Craft is a beloved exception. I love so much about it: the magic, the music, the clothes, the settings, the dynamics within the friend group, the performances. I had no idea when I first got the DVD at 17 that it would become such a part of my life, but I’m so glad it found its way to me. 

4. Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion - The soundtrack is a glorious ’80s and ’90s treat for my ears. The colorful costumes are perfectly suited to the main characters’ version of the world. There are so many great lines and it feels like everyone is having a lot of fun in their roles. I LOVE HEATHER MOONEY SO MUCH. She’s my awful, scathingly sarcastic, little grungy grump and she fills my heart with joy. 

5. The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King - I was pretty sure at least one of the three had to appear on here. I think, if I were to tally them all up, The Return of the King features most of my favorite moments, so it wins the spot. “I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you!”, ‘Edge of Night,’ Éowyn in battle, The Army of the Dead, ‘Into the West’... I end up crying during the end credits every time. So, yeah, ultimately, I would choose the third part of the trilogy if I could only watch one. 

Phew, that’s it! All the questions answered, all the shows and movies listed! Thank you to anyone who takes the time to read it all, and thanks again to @monaiargancoconutsoy for sending in the prompts! <3

#About Me #Answered Asks

[mymelonerboner]

It’s Pink Season! - Chapter 2 - A JoJo OC Fanfic

(i should preface this by giving this fic some context – this fic took four OCs of four different people (one of them is me!) from a JoJo discord server that i hold especially dear to my heart. i set myself the challenge of taking these characters from wildly different imaginations and trying to piece together a cohesive story where they all interact with each other. to the owners of these OCs, i hope i’ll do them justice. this fic is estimated to last 4/5 chapters, and depending on my free time, maybe i’ll do something like this again with more OCs from other people, who knows :) anyways hope you guys enjoy what i’ve got so far!)

Rémi - belongs to Quality Queen @qualitiddy

Kyra - belongs to Kyrare @kyrare

Claudia - belongs to Sweet Kurage @sweetkurage

Francis Miller - belongs to meee! @mymelonerboner

Chapter 2 Word Count: 2,194

—————————— 

*     *     *     CHAPTER 2     *     *     *

"LA VACHE! SHUT UP! I'M TRYING!" 

Rémi swung the wheel hard to the right, but screeches and smoke gave away the fact that it wasn't going to be quite enough. Kyra had to act fast. She gritted her teeth in frustration as she braced herself for an undoubtedly painful experience.

"STEEL PANTHER!"

From her torso, the upper body of a feline figure emerged. Dark metallic silver glinted with ferocious animosity against a panther-like physique as the figure stretched its metal wings out, letting out a guttural hiss. Kyra's stand pressed one paw against the dashboard of the sedan, before phasing another paw through the floor of the car, contacting the speeding asphalt of the road below it. Kyra hissed in pain as she felt the sensation of the asphalt scraping against her stand's palm.

In a split second, the sedan burst with a light blueish glow surrounding the whole vehicle, before the pulsating light flowed straight into the point of the ground that the phantom panther was pressing its paw against. With a deafening crack, the asphalt below the sedan broke into pieces, nudging the sedan ever so slightly more to the right, and the sedan seemed to slow down tremendously, as though most of the energy of the hurtling car just vanished, like water spilled from a cup. It was enough to make the sedan brush past the mysterious figure on the motorcycle.

Right after, the sedan slammed head first into something solid behind the motorcycle, denting the bonnet of the car.

"I'M TRY- FUCK! OW!" Rémi shrieked as his head jolted into the SPW-branded Super-Deluxe-High-Comfort™ airbags of the sedan. Kyra sighed in relief. Whatever it was they hit, she managed to divert enough energy in time to make the crash relatively mild.

But what was it that they hit?

Kyra peered through the slightly cracked windshield. There was nothing in front of the car. It was as though the bonnet was dented by some invisible pole.

The trio crawled out of the damaged sedan, each eyeing the mysterious biker with caution. The gleam of the biker's helmet visor masked their face and gave them an aura of anonymous danger. The helmet, from afar, somewhat resembled the look of a brown aviator hat with goggles. Kyra shot a glance at the others. A slight swarm of mist was already forming and circling around Rémi's feet in defensive anticipation. Claudia wore a look of terrified concern.

"What quick wits ya have, Kyra Furyia." An unfamiliar, male voice rasped from the biker. With a quick gesture from the biker, the seemingly empty space in front of the damaged sedan bonnet suddenly appeared to melt and morph into a slightly dented lamppost. "If you were just a split second slower, you fellas would've been totalled by that crash."

"Why thank you, kind gentleman." Kyra shot back in pompous sarcasm. "You know my name. That means you've done your research. I think it's safe to assume you know about our stand powers too."

The biker chuckled. "Not bad, cat lady. You're right, I know all about your stand, Steel Panther, and its energy redirection powers." He lifted a gloved finger towards Rémi. "I also know about you, Rémi Martin, and your copying ability. However…" The biker slowly cocked his head towards Claudia. "This girl… don't think I've seen her before. She a stand user?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." Rémi spat. "I'll tell you this much, helmet - you're not very good at hiding your powers. I've already figured out how your stand works."

Kyra lifted a brow. Already?

"Kyra, look." Rémi pointed at a green-themed restaurant just a few meters away. "The invisibility, the unfamiliar surroundings… there must be only one explanation." Kyra peered at the restaurant and read the large, white block letters right above its entrance.

Five Guys!

"You're right, Rémi!" Kyra gasped. "I've never seen a green Five Guys in my life. Wow, this was way easier than I thought." Kyra smirked as she lifted a metal-clawed finger towards the biker. "Good sir, your stand ability… is to change the colour of objects, isn't it?"

The biker snorted. "Congratu-fucking-lations, you guys have eyes." With a grandiose wave of the hand, he gestured to the all the wrongly-coloured walls, windows and pavements surrounding the trio. 

"Isn't it funny how much we people depend on colour? When you see a car drive past you, your first thought is never gonna be 'Oh, that was a flat-topped car', or 'Oh, that was a Volkswagen'. More likely, you're gonna go 'Oh, that was a blue car'. Same thing applies for many things. Animals, buildings, walls… it's the first way you recognise something. Mess with colour a little and suddenly everything looks foreign. It's evolution, y'see. Colour has been the warning system for predators and prey since the dawn of eyeballs. It tells you what's food, what's poison, what's danger, what's safety. Colour is everywhere."

In a seamless motion, a figure emerged from behind the biker. Humanoid in appearance, but coloured head to toe in a brilliant pink hue, skin as smooth as rubber with vastly contrasting, bizarre patterns strewn across its body in random spots like lazy patchwork, all made with different hues of pink, purple and magenta. It donned what looked like the apron of a painter, and where there should be forearms, instead there were what looked like two paintball guns attached directly at the elbows.

"My name is Francis Miller, and my stand, Pink Season, can control the colour of any object it shoots!" 

Kyra couldn't hold back an impudent snort. "Colour. Colour. Well gee fuckin' golly, I'm *dye*ing to know how dangerous that's gonna be." She cackled at her joke. "Whatcha' gonna do, paint me to death? Mulberry sunburst my ass into- OW FUCK!"

With lightning speed reaction time, Kyra used a metal claw to slice through a paintball that was hurtling right into her abdomen at mach speed. The capsule split into two, splattering a dark blue hue against her torso, leftover shell debris scraping her green sweater and leaving minor tears. 

"...Well, that was huemiliating." Kyra smirked through her panting.

"This is bad! That stand has long-range capabilities." Rémi gritted his teeth. "Claudia, stick close. Those paintballs look dangerous at that speed."

"Hey prick, you better turn this shit on my sweater back to green right now!" Kyra hissed as she picked up a discarded beer can on the ground with one hand and pressed her other hand, shielded with her armour-like paw-glove, against a nearby lamppost. The lamppost flickered on and off momentarily, emitting a yellowish glow from its steel base which flowed into the beer can. Blue sparks began to fly out of its aluminium skin. With the proficiency of a pitcher, she flung the charged beer can straight towards the biker. The biker didn't move a muscle, simply silently watching as the beer can sped closer towards him.

Only for the can to narrowly missed the biker's visor by an inch. It tumbled against the ground behind him, letting out a loud electrical discharge as it contacted a manhole cover.

Wha… That was impossible. Kyra never missed a target. Countless years of intensive training assured her of that. She took everything into account, wind velocity, wrist posture, amount of centrifugal spin…

Francis burst into an obnoxiously raspy, wheezing laugh. "What magic some simple contouring and shading can do! I coloured the walls and road in between us to look like I was just a bit further from you than I actually was. I know your modus operandi, Kyra! I knew you would try that move!"

Optical illusions!? Shit! This is bad. 

Francis was still wheezing and hacking from his half-laugh-half-choking. "You had the fucking balls to underestimate me. But now I know somethin', Kyra. You may have the sharp senses of a cat, but your eyes are still human. You're weak to my power! PINK SEASON!" And with a wild gesture, both the biker and his stand slowly began to melt into thin air, splotches of nothingness spreading like an oil spill across their whole bodies. In a matter of seconds, they both completely vanished. In alarm, Kyra backed up to where Rémi and Claudia were huddled, eyes peeled on the surroundings for the invisible biker.

"Rémi! Look out!" Claudia exclaimed. Rémi's eyes widened, bracing himself for an attack. He drew a breath, preparing his spiritual energy.

"IMITATION OF LIFE!"

And with that cry, light greyish wisps of mist gushed out from Rémi's feet, swirling around in front of him and taking on a vaguely humanoid shape. At where its "head" should be, two large, beady, solid red eyes flitted open, glowing with a brilliant ruby hue. This misty form lightly planted a "palm" against the asphalt road with a feather's touch, and immediately, the coarse, hardened, blackened texture of the asphalt spread up the misty shape's "arm" and across its "chest", eventually encapsulating its entire "body". Upon completion of this transformation, the now hardened figure disassembled itself into a cloud of rocky particles, swarming around the body of Rémi, before settling against his skin and body to form an asphalt suit of armour, complete with a dark-grey-tinged translucent facemask that still displayed his face well enough.

Split seconds after this asphalt armour settled, Rémi was immediately hit across the left check with a speeding paintball, splattering a vibrant green colour against his asphalt exterior, starkly contrasting its dull blackish look. The force of the paintball was enough to make Rémi's head jerk to the side in a dizzying way.

"Woah! You alright kid?" Kyra exclaimed.

"I'm fine! I activated my stand in time." Rémi cracked his neck to soothe the pain of the concussion. "More importantly, that shot revealed his location! I know where to attack now!" With a roar, Rémi darted into the direction the paintball came from.

"Wait, no! Slow down!" Claudia called out to him.

Suddenly, Rémi dropped down through the seemingly solid ground with a surprised shriek. In instinctive panic, he managed to catch a grip on the edge of the "hole" with his asphalt fingers.

"Rémi!" Both Kyra and Claudia screamed after him.

A raspy voice from the thin air broke into an ugly chortle. "I removed that manhole's cover in advance and coloured its interior to match the road. I knew you two had close-range type stands. One of you guys were gonna try to bumrush me, so I just positioned myself in front of that hole. You think I'd be some kinda dumbass to just give away my position like that?"

With some effort, Rémi pulled himself out of the manhole and hurried back to the group, eyes darting about wildly as he tried to figure out where Francis was going to strike next. Kyra narrowed her eyes at him, then at Claudia. It was Claudia she was worried about the most. Her defensive capabilities were practically null. There was only one reason Francis still hadn’t targeted her yet, and it was because he still didn’t know what she could do. 

Kyra shifted her focus to Francis, or wherever she was wildy guessing he was going to be. He was cunning. He was prepared. He even had traces of tar on his clothes to mask his scent against the road. Kyra bit her lip in frustration, admitting in a pit of her heart that Francis was right, and she had underestimated him. It wasn’t just a matter of controlling colours, it was a matter of controlling perception. To not even know whether you can trust your own eyes… Is there any way to defeat such a stand user? Any way to even land a blow on this bastard, if you can’t even tell where he’s-

“Rémi! Two meters to your left, eight o’ clock!” Claudia suddenly yelled, pointing to an empty space next to Rémi. Kyra widened her eyes. Dia, how the fuck!?

Rémi wasted no time. Without missing a heartbeat, he leaped to where Claudia had directed and with a cry, slammed an asphalt fist straight into the empty space. A loud, satisfying thud resonated as Francis flew backwards from the rocky impact straight into his visor, shards of fortified glass, plastic and multicoloured dye mixed with blood spurting into the air as his camouflage wore off. Kyra let out a yelp of triumph mixed with confusion as she watched the biker and his stand tumble backwards against the road.

But it was far from over. The biker shuddered, and slowly but surely propped himself up. Through one cracked lens of the helmet visor, he eyed the young Spanish girl with a look of murderous intent.

“Y...you saw through it. You, girl… Claudia, was it? You saw through my optical illusions…” Francis hacked out a blob of spit and blood against the road. “I was wondering how you kept warning your friends of my moves. You… you are a stand user after all.” His cold gaze trailed from Claudia to her surroundings, the buildings, the road, the sky.

And in his visible eye, there was a gleam of realisation, and then triumphant satisfaction.

*     *     *     END OF CHAPTER 2     *     *     *

#jojo #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #oc #fanfic #rem #imitation of life #steel panther #gloomy sunday #pink guy #filthy frank #pink season #it's pink season! #chapter 2 #action

[mcrtiniblues-blog]

hey guys ! i’m kat and atm, i’m either splurging at sephora or on my way home so i can’t be on for this first wave of activity. i kinda whipped everything up between endless exhaustion from my daily routine and people constantly looming over my shoulder at work and at home, so don’t mind my theme and everything, i’m still trying to figure out what i like and that means taking a while to set up my pages sklsd plus i wasn’t expecting us to open so soon, so i’m unprepared af, BUT ! we’ll make do with this intro for now.. didn’t have enough time to finish amla’s before i got off work. now, all of that being said, this is a monster of a post, so get settled as i introduce sovana’s resident skating brat halle, a bitch who overworks and doesn’t know how to chill long-term !! stats page is HERE for your reading pleasure, plots and what not will be up later on !

( jeon somin, cisfemale, she/her. ) hey that’s hyunmi “halle” chae over by the fountain! i wonder if they took a coin out. i heard the twenty-four year old’s been in sovana for three months and they’re known to be pretty darwinian but also charismatic. a song that describes their life would be challenge by lolo zouaï and blades gliding along the surface of ice, classical music on a rainy day, & silk bedsheets always reminds me of them.  

honestly she is.. fucked sgjfsgdkl

this is mostly a carbon copy of an intro i’ve made for her in the past, so while some random points seem a Little dated or repetitive, they’re valid enough to stay here sfdlgkdg

i’ve had inspo for her ever since last year’s olympics and really wanted to use her Somewhere and Successfully, so if some things here seem a little.. idk, farfetched for your taste, we’ll pin it on that sfdgkdfj

this is her as popular vines

so chae hyunmi aka halle, ulsan born, raised in seoul and relocated to toronto, canada with her parents, little sis and partner — aka sho — to train bc..

she’s a figure skater, good enough to win ( .. junior ig ) titles when she was in her early teens, so it was only inevitable for her to leave for toronto to train with the Best eventually

she’s competed in international competitions, as part of a pair, and made her olympic debut in sochi by the skin of her teeth; hers and sho’s highest placement was third place ( not at sochi pls sgjkld they prob ranked in the top ten at best ), so she’s got a medal or two to her name

ultimately it was after sochi that she saw her coach and ( ex ) partner intervene with her.. unhealthy practicing habits

she’s a perfectionist through and through, so of course she’d spend hours on the ice at just seventeen/eighteen years old, even younger tbh, to get a routine right. but she pushed herself harder and harder, where small missteps would lead her to fall hard and recover for days on end, even spraining her ankle just before competition season was to begin

so when her coach insisted she take a break, her parents following suit, it was with good reason — one that she didn’t fucking see fsdkgkl

even so, them pushing her to prioritize education for a bit, to get ahead of the skaters who would prob only be able to do so upon retirement in a good few years’ time, and hanging up her skates until she saw it as.. less than something she needed to abuse herself to feel comfortable with, for as long as they would do so led to her resolve shattering and her applying for universities both in canada and sk ( the sly brat reasoned that it’d be nice to be reconnect with her roots.. for the sake of having something going for her beyond just competing in pyeongchang ! )

which is how, miraculously, she got accepted into uni in seoul ( still figuring out which, rip ). her grades were good, she had a super brief volunteering stint and she’s a rising star ( well, was.. the bitch wouldn’t be competing again anytime soon to keep herself where she was within the skating circuit ) in her favoured sport, she deemed it inevitable sfkljfdgk

the transition wasn’t too hard ofc; she got comfortable with the campus and seoul and was back on the ice in no time, joining the uni’s skating team under her parents’ noses and making the most of it as comeback/olympics prep

she saw herself as poised to be added to the roster once again, now a singles prospect after a major falling out with her longtime partner for one too many dumb bitch moves, and was desperate for it since it’s in pyeongchang, however the stars didn’t align when she just missed obtaining qualification on sk’s roster on a technicality, and nothing could’ve compared to the agony that was missing her chance in something she invested sm practice, time and compliance with the people around her to pull through and get to pyeongchang

she’s still distraught over it, it’s been a few months since that happened and she gets emo real quick, misty-eyed if you bring it up ( she uh, has issues with moving on from things if you can’t tell )

suffice to say she resents her coach for his minor contribution in fucking her and himself over, dropped him out of anger ( a move she.. does feels bad abt on a personal level but professionally ?? pft ) and linked up with one back in toronto who she began seeing when she was “ prepared ” to give it a shot again.. so right after graduating

wrapped up a season dedicated solely to training ( meaning she’s currently on hiatus from the sport, but she knows a good few people think her career is Over now — and it pisses her the Fuck off ) before her sister convinced her to have a proper break that wasn’t Just to appease someone else

.. even though it was to appease her sister. but she let it slide bc the kid’s the Only person who can do no wrong in halle’s eyes and she might as well keep her from stressing

literally the only instance she’ll ever, in her lifetime, Cave to someone SDFLKGSDFKL

so she picked sovana as her retreat at complete random and has been here since april

it’s a little weird to think of her Not being in her usual spots so this is as much of a ride for y’all as it is for me, the bitch doesn’t have many hobbies after all SDFKLSDF

studied history despite wanting to be a skating coach when she retires as a competitor, bc she rly loves history ok ??

personality and other shit

she is.. a mess rly

inflexible, independent, charismatic, etc

most of her actual personality is further down oops dsfgjklfg

kinda detached ?? like she doesn’t want too many distractions and she deems relationships as the fucking Worst for it.. she’s had some pals from skating with potential go downhill when they got too deep with certain partners or just with too many side hobbies, social obligations, so she’s trying to be level-headed while not destroying her social life ?

idk it’s hard to explain, she’s an enigma even to me in that area

only dated once. when she was like nine. with some other chick’s skating partner that she quickly ditched.

not.. super sexually active either ( rip ?? )

but she’s been Involved with people so fdskng

on the ice, or just in whatever she’s applying herself to, she’s domineering and blunt, v strict on herself though she’s slacked off a bit over the years.. so imagine how self-disciplined — in the worst of ways — she was when she was younger

with a rigorous work ethic like hers, her being a leader among those at the local skating club back in toronto implies that she’d be strict too with what little power she has.. but she’s kinda chill overall ?? tho you still have to get your twizzles right before the end of the day, don’t care that the hockey players will be out in two ! let’s go !

uh.. her attitude carries over with a Lot of things. she especially has no time for people who are Committed to their sport/career but show poor performances bc of laziness, distractions, etc. so brace your kids for hurricane hyunmi ??

call her ice queen. try it. try it. GKFDJKGDSF she hates that nickname 95% of the time, usually bc she assumes people are basing it off of her initial/professional demeanour first and her passion second

she really just has a hard shell where it matters, aka her career and stuff, but is a semi-precious gem overall

or, for a better way to describe it though it sounds like i’m just repeating myself: she gives off Proper head bitch vibes ( subtract the Need to feel powerful in being a piece of shit to anyone who walks past you while being surprisingly thin-skinned ) but she’s really just a blunt and serious brat with a super dry and at times menacing sense of humour

so don’t think i’m taking the piss out of anything on purpose or that she acts out of malice.. i had a better way of phrasing this but completely blanked, sorry SDFKLJDKL

kind of dramatic and a meme ngl, curses quite a bit, whips out korean or her conversational-level french far too often — especially if she’s shit-talking bc you made an ugly choice but is trying to be a Supportive Friend

english name came from halle berry bc hyunmi thought she was really pretty on all of the red carpets her mom would have on growing up sfgdkjflk

unwinds with the usual netflix and wine, but also dance — helps with her choreo for routines too so

oH also probably still hurts herself by overworking, especially after That Lost Opportunity, i hate

she’s pan but….. girls disappoint her far less than guys so she has a preference djfgskgdkf

all of that being said, it clearly plays into how she’s perceived by others, so —

#ooc tag tba. #sov.intro #this is so long and almost unnecessary.. sorry y'all #DJKSDFL