rpg-hero

[fintellectualproperty]

Awsten with a frog!!

with bungleton!! i’m so excited to get my plush of him they’re so :3333

[bright--paws]

Trick or treat!

TRICKED!

the part where he kills you . get tricked

also have a pebbles . as a treat

[finchmarie]

I would actually love to hear these thoughts and how Ashley and Lark became besties (if you're up for it obviously)

I saw this and then waited to answer til I had time to do a doodle (that will get fully rendered) cause I'm not a strong writer but I did want to draw about it!!

Here is some info from my HC doc:

Ash is the VS in Lark’s story. From the moment Shepard picks Ash up from Eden Prime the two connect and mesh well. Shepard appreciates her insight and they work together very well even when they butt heads. The pair softens and strengthens each other. Lark envies Ashley’s relationship with her family, as Lark is not nearly as close to her own. While Ash encourages her to reach out and connect with others, despite her fears. Lark in turn softens Ashley’s views on working with aliens and helps her cope with being the sole survivor from Eden Prime, as Shepard has learned to cope with Akuze. There is also plenty of teasing to be had alongside their high level of mutual respect.

[pokeplumage]

(@wingsofachampion) Hiya! What do you think of my species? -Tropius

Woah, a tropius that can use the internet? That's incredible! Aha, sorry if that sounded rude. But yes, tropius- I think they're beautiful flying types and I'd love to meet one in person one day

[rebouks]

“What’re we doing here?”

Oscar shrugged casually, “Hanging out?”

Robin scoffed with what little joviality he could muster, “Yeah, right…”

Oscar paused and broke eye contact, staring at nothing in particular as Robin waited. It was usually fairly easy to ascertain the direction of a conversation before it even started, given that people tended to rehearse what they’d say beforehand, but not Oscar. His mind was simultaneously blank and fit to burst; he was making it up as he went along most of the time, but that was one of Robin’s favourite things about his father. It paved the way for genuine, on the fly honesty.

“Figured maybe you’d wanna talk-..” Oscar rubbed his temple, “Ask me whatever you want.”

“Really?”

“Yeah-.. within reason.”

“Why’d you do it?” Robin blurted out; his eyes full of unbridled curiosity, though his father wasn’t looking at him.

“Willpower is a finite resource, y’know? I had a shitty day and I caved-.. didn’t really think about it all that much, to be honest.”

“What do you mean?”

Oscar sighed, backtracking slightly as he realised that wasn’t exactly the honesty he was going for. “Well, it’s not that you don’t think about it-.. I thought about not doing it a bunch of times, but the second I decided otherwise, I went on autopilot and got it over with as soon as possible so I wouldn’t have to think about it anymore. Probably because thinking on it too hard is uncomfortable.”

“Where’d you go?”

Robin wouldn’t usually have to ask such a mundane question, but he’d struggled to fill in the blanks for himself. Oscar’s memories of the previous night were fuzzy and his thoughts sprawling.

“There.”

“The bar?”

Oscar nodded, still unable to meet his son’s gaze. “You remember it used to be a vet clinic, right? Your grandma ran it briefly, years ago-.. we lived in the flat above for a little while, when you were a baby.”

“I remember.”

Oscar sounded surprised. “You do?”

“Kinda-.. you’ve told me about it n’ stuff…”

Oscar shrugged a shoulder, supposing that’d make sense.

“You don’t have to feel so ashamed.” Robin ventured.

Oscar almost looked at Robin, though his gaze fell somewhere near his shoulder instead. How could a fourteen-year-old boy conjure such compassion? Such accuracy too. Shame.

Sometimes it felt as though he were talking to a man, not a boy. He was still a child, of course; arguing with his siblings over utter nonsense, playfighting, whinging about school and homework, leaving his dirty socks all over the place-.. but sometimes it felt like he understood much more than he should’ve. Oscar couldn’t imagine many people being so emotionally mature at thirty, never mind half as young.

“Dad…”

“I’m sure I’ll get over it-.. I always assumed I’d relapse at some point, but as the years went by, I guess I got complacent.”

“How’d it start? Like, did you just wake up one morning and realise it was an issue or..?”

Oscar shook his head slightly, running his thumb over his beard in thought. “Nah, it was slower, I just ignored it. I’d always been daft and over the top with stuff like that, partying n’ shit, y’know? It was like a crutch after a while though, and eventually, I needed it just to feel normal-.. went too far to feel nothing.”

Robin opened his mouth to speak, but Oscar wasn’t finished.

“You’ll probably get some stupid cop coming to your scout meetings or your school one day and they’ll stand there n’ tell you all about how drugs and alcohol are terrible or whatever, but it’s bollocks. Sure, they’re bad for you, but they feel good and that’s the problem. At least for me it was-.. is. It shouldn’t even be legal, really, not that it’d do much good if it wasn’t-.. it wouldn’t have stopped me, anyway.”

“I’d love to forbid you from going near it, but I’m sure you’ll all try it for yourselves one day. Maybe it’s just something to do, maybe it makes a boring night more fun, gives you the confidence to do something you’re scared of, talk to someone you’re shy around, I don’t know-.. you might hate it, you might not.”

“You hate that you still like it, don’t you?”

Oscar finally met Robin’s gaze as he nodded. “So much.” He wondered if he was making a mistake, being so open, but it was too late now and Robin had yet to balk or appear uncomfortable. If anything, he seemed concerned and intrigued, glad of the chance to ask whatever he wanted-.. not that he couldn’t usually, but the invitation was clearly welcome all the same.

“All your troubles just melt away, but they’re twice as bad when you wake up and doing it over again doesn’t solve much. It’s not the answer, Robin.”

“I know it’s not.”

Oscar’s frown softened as Robin slid beside him, threading an arm around his waist.

“You prefer being sober though, right?” he asked.

“Ah, that’s a loaded question…” Oscar sighed. “I prefer my life when I’m sober, but maybe a part of me will always crave that oblivion. It’s just something I have to live with.”

“Do you think you’ll do it again?”

“I don’t know, bud-..” Oscar admitted. “I’d like to say no but I don’t think I can make any promises, that’s not how it works.”

Robin nodded understandingly; he would’ve preferred it if his father could’ve made that promise, but a harsh truth was better than a hollow lie.

“They don’t mean much if you don’t keep em.” Oscar added.

“I get it-.. thanks for letting me ask you about it though, I know you’d rather keep it to yourself.”

“You’re still young but I know it’d drive you nuts otherwise. Besides, I don’t want it to feel like a dirty secret we can’t talk about, at least between us-.. might not wanna go telling all your friends your dad’s an alky though…”

Robin buried his face in the crook of Oscar’s shoulder and squeezed him tightly, desperate to convince his father that he didn’t think any less of him.

“Nah, they’re got enough ammunition.”

Oscar couldn’t help but snort at that. “I love you so much.”

“I know-.. I love you too.”

Robin said nothing a while as his father held him - or he held Oscar - only breaking the silence upon feeling his restless thoughts return.

“It’ll be the summer holiday’s soon, maybe we could go camping or something?”

Oscar smiled fondly. “Yeah, that’d be fun…”

Previous // Next

[wra-1-th]

I absolutely adore writing esther + monty's relationship. it's such a fucked up bond that you literally never run out of things to explore.

where did she find him? how are familiars created? had she had any before him? id assume there's magic involved that bonds a witch and their familiar that prevents them from losing one another and allows them to communicate. does monty have traces of esther's magic? is he able to harness it? how long to familiars live? if they're connected to their witches, how long can they live after the witch dies?

had esther taken "donations" from monty before? was he used to sitting on the counter as she took blood or feathers for her potions? when did she start? did she want to get him used to the role of a familiar quite young or did she wait until he was older? was it ever used as punishment? there is so much there.

did he know? did he sit down on the counter prepared to have a feather or two plucked, perhaps a slight pain but nothing he hadn't felt before, of course, and then she tore him apart and there was so much pain that it felt like it was coming from everywhere at once? did he ever see the remnants of his old body?

was he scared, when he looked up at her? when he smiled, because she was smiling at him? he was in this new body that felt so many different things, but he couldn't feel the pain where the needle had dragged twine through his flesh. she didn't see him as anything more than an experiment. when would he realize this?

did she take him clothes shopping? did they break in somewhere? was anything paid for? did she help him, give him suggestions on what to pick out? or did everything come from the back of her closet, from the styles she had long outgrown? did she choose the crow jewelry as a way to remind him of what he really was, or did he find it and want to remind himself? was there any comfort in it?

was she ever proud of him? did she ever think he was doing a good job in fooling the agency? or did she always want him to work quicker, work harder, always putting her plan above everything else?

did she make him queer? is that even something she could have controlled? or did she just tell him to flirt with the boys and it worked out that he was queer? would it have been better if he wasn't? if he hadn't fallen for edwin and hadn't gotten attached?

does he even know what homophobia is? (with the way esther looked two seconds from a hate crime whenever he brought edwin up, id think he has an idea.) but does he know what it means? does he know any terms regarding the queer community? does he even know how he identifies?

did he feel like he could fly again while on the swingset?

why didn't he die when esther did? id think familiars are connected to their witches, to their magic or their lives. were the things esther had done to him so vile that their bond had begun to fray? was he able to find a life for himself that prevented him from dying alongside her?

how does he feel about magic, after everything? would he want to learn? esther had plenty of books, and he taught himself to read. surely he could learn something from them, but would he really want to be involved in that? and what kind of magic would that teach him? does he have esther's magic? would he even want to harness that? would he want to figure out a way to switch between human and crow on his own terms? who would he go to to learn? edwin knows magic, of course, but how awkward would that be? the cat king is a shapeshifter, but a cat and a crow collaborating is a preposterous idea.

would monty want to learn about crows? can he communicate with them, or was he only ever able to speak with esther? crow parents teach their children, but monty's family weren't crows.

I just have so many thoughts about monty and im trying to translate most of them into fic but it's been slow so far. things to think about, I guess. monty deserves so much love and happiness but I will have to angst him first!

[justsalpals]

Monty, projecting his little heart out: I hate you because you're so fucking fake. Just a smiley little prick who'd rather twist everyone's arms into liking you than spend a second at any of your own issues.

Charles, the subtext flying over his head: yeah. :') alright then.

[ace-and-the-rpg-horrors]

at this point, i've seen multiple people wonder why Monty was bitchy to Charles, when he was probably meant to be getting on everyone's good side so they'd trust him. and to that, i say...

i honestly think he's just stupid.

[secrettastemakerland]

it's actually the featherington sisters and their golden retriever husbands against the world

[petvampire]

The original drabble I was working on that started this whole Cluedo prompt thing into motion. 🤣 A little gift for @anything-thats-rock-and-roll who pointed out that I somehow haven’t written Cat King x Edwin x Monty together yet! (What are we calling these three as a ship, anyway?)

So here we have them, in the library, with the rope. 💖

NSFW

~

Walking in on Monty tied up is not exactly how the Cat King envisioned his day going, but he’s certainly not complaining.

He’s rounded the corner into the expanded library of the Dead Boy Detectives’ office - with the influx of new volumes to their collection, the ghosts needed more space for their books. So the office has undergone some changes, a few mundane, a few magical. They occupy the whole top floor of the building now, and the library is its own room, to Edwin’s eternal delight. The change is recent enough that the ghost is often still found here just wandering, touching shelves and books with a proprietary sort of contentment. He’s very much in his element here, whether curled up to read in one of the heavy wingback chairs he picked out, or poring over the varied volumes to do research for a case.

Right now, he’s not doing either, but he’s still perfectly in his element. A length of silk rope dyed a stormy grey is held in his hands, half of it already wrapped around the crow in an elaborate web of knots. He’s frowning down at an open book laid out on the low table next to him, one with a diagram that he is presumably studying, trying to replicate.

Monty looks utterly calm and unruffled, even with his arms bound behind his back in a way that looks faintly uncomfortable. He’s still fully dressed, both of them are, which makes the scene a little less fun for Thomas - but then, it’s fairly clear at first glance that this isn’t some heated interlude he’s interrupting, but a bit of hands-on practice.

Still, both of them look surprised and just a hint flustered when he clears his throat, drawing their attention to him. Evidently they weren’t expecting anyone to walk in on this bit of… research.

“I’m guessing this isn’t for a case,” he drawls, amusement lacing his tone. A hint of pink crawls across Monty’s cheeks, but Edwin just raises a brow; he’s become much better at maintaining his composure.

“And how can you be certain of that?” His voice is as cool and crisp as ever, though there’s a hint of a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Perhaps I’m attempting to find new ways to subdue potential threats.”

The shapeshifter’s eyes scan over the complex series of loops and knots, more decorative than functional, and he smirks. “Sweetheart, if you start tying up your clients, you’re going to end up with more business than you can handle.” He paces closer, trailing fingertips along the rope where it loops around Monty’s arms. The crow tilts his head, flashes him a teasing little smile, and Thomas can’t resist the urge to brush a quick kiss against his mouth.

He’s too fascinated by the rope to be distracted for long, though. Edwin has certainly got a knack for this sort of thing, those elegant hands deft with the elaborate ties. Thomas is more than a little amused to see that he’s been researching, practicing, since the first use of this particular skill set. He peers over the other’s shoulder to look at the diagram he seems to be trying to replicate, and grins.

“Looks like you’re only about halfway done,” he says almost conversationally to Edwin, running his fingertip up Monty’s spine, the back of his neck, feeling his crow shiver. “Want a hand?” He’s not offering to help with the rope, not really. There are more entertaining things to do than fuss over perfect knots, since he’s here.

The ghost presses his lips together, suppressing a laugh. Thomas is insatiable; he’s not the faintest bit surprised that the other wants to make what was simply a bit of an exercise in improving his skills into something more… salacious. “I suppose Monty is owed a reward for allowing me to practice on him.”

“Lucky me,” the crow murmurs with a smirk. He’s baiting the Cat King, all three of them know it, but the man rises to the occasion with pleasure.

He may not be as adept with rope as Edwin is, but he knows very well how to work with it once it’s on somebody. A tug on the ladder of strands lacing Monty’s arms behind his back forces him to arch, making a small sound low in his throat. “Maybe one of these days you’ll learn not to mouth off when someone’s being nice to you,” he drawls, but there’s no real reprimand in the words. They’re just an excuse to tease, to play.

A little more pressure in just the right places, and Monty is sinking to his knees, spine still arched, head tilted back. Edwin eyes him like an artist surveying a canvas, and kneels down beside him with the rest of the rope. It seems to take him little time to draw more loops and knots around the other’s limbs, wrists bound to ankles by another series of elaborate coils, forcing him to stay in that bent-back position. It would certainly be uncomfortable to remain in for too much time, but neither of them intends to keep him that way for long.

The crow’s eyes are slightly glazed now in a way they weren’t before, when Edwin was approaching the ropework in a far more clinical manner. The long, pale column of his neck is on display in this pose, and Thomas can’t help but take advantage. His mouth wanders lazily over that soft skin, biting and sucking sharp red marks here and there. Monty swallows any sound he might have made, but his pulse is rapid, the scent of arousal far too obvious to the shapeshifter to hide. Not that any of them are trying.

Edwin has pulled back after finishing the last tie, just… watching, but there’s a quiet hunger in his eyes. Thomas meets them and grins again, nuzzling against Monty’s throat. “You know, this really would look better on him naked,” he purrs.

“I was hoping to make sure I could execute this tie perfectly before using it properly,” the ghost shoots back, tart as ever. “But since you’ve decided to move up the timetable, perhaps you could oblige me.”

It’s all he has to say; Thomas flicks a hand, and Monty’s clothes have dissolved into nothing, the crow making a softly startled little noise. The ropes have just a little more slack without the barrier of fabric in the way, but not enough for him to so much as relax. No, he’s still well and truly bound, and now the center of both men’s focus.

The deep grey of the rope looks lovely against his skin, the forced arch of his back emphasizing the lean line of his body. Thomas slides away from him to stand and consider the view from all angles, before slipping an arm around Edwin’s waist. “Looks pretty perfect to me,” he murmurs teasingly into the ghost’s ear.

“You’re a bit biased.”

“Even so.” The teasing exchange cuts off as his mouth settles over Edwin’s, the kiss slow and heated. Thomas deliberately draws it out, knowing Monty is watching - knowing he can’t do anything but watch at the moment.

He can’t help but enjoy every opportunity he gets to tease one of his lovers with another, to play their desires off each other. It’s doubly delectable with Monty bound and practically helpless at their feet, though the hunger in his gaze is nearly palpable. Thomas can feel the heat of it like a hand brushing over his skin as he lazily unbuttons Edwin’s shirt, unknots his bow tie.

He hears Monty’s soft little groan when he finally gets the ghost at least partly undressed, the glimpses of skin beneath all those layers fanning the flames of desire. Thomas’ hands run up Edwin’s chest, and he laughs against his mouth, finally drawing back from the kiss, glancing at his crow.

“Of course, the problem is, he’s no damn use down there.” It elicits a dry laugh from the ghost, his gaze sliding over Monty in that slow, appreciative way.

“Perhaps not. He is rather fetching like this, though.” He bends, and now it’s his lips skimming over the crow’s neck, almost delicately kissing over the marks Thomas left behind as his hands are busy with the ropes. This time Monty moans in earnest, arching into the other even as the ropes go slack, urging more contact.

That, they’re both quite happy to give.

It takes a bit of maneuvering, since Edwin has left Monty’s arms as they are, firmly bound behind his back. But they get the crow back on his feet, then across the room to one of those fancy chairs the ghost likes so much. It takes more time than it should, largely because they’re distracted by touches, kisses, by shedding bits of clothing along the way. Still, since they eventually end up with Thomas settled in the chair, Monty in his lap, Edwin kneeling in front of him, no one is complaining in the slightest.

No one is doing anything resembling speaking anymore, in fact. Thomas is too busy devouring his crow’s mouth as Monty bounces on his cock, whimpering and groaning messily into the kiss. Edwin is too busy with Monty’s dick halfway down his throat, fingers digging into the other’s thighs when his movements grow too quick, too erratic. He’s as slow and methodical as he was with the rope, keeping the other on the edge but not letting him come.

At least, not until Thomas has, spilling himself into Monty’s ass with a guttural groan. Only then does Edwin apply himself fully, bringing the crow to orgasm in what certainly feels like record time.

He sits back on his heels with a smirk, primly wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. He’s still hard, but doesn’t seem to be paying attention to that fact at the moment as his eyes find Thomas’ again. The Cat King looks smug and pleased, but nowhere near sated - par for the course for him, really.

“Now, is that sufficient to keep you from distracting me from my practice for a little while?” Monty raises his head with a start, apparently surprised that Edwin is right back to business, but Thomas just laughs at the faint note of teasing in his ghost’s voice.

“Just how many diagrams did you find that you were going to talk Monty into letting you try out?”

Edwin’s smile is nowhere near innocent. “One hundred and seven.”

Both of them blink at him, astonished, and then Thomas bursts out laughing. Monty rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning. “When were you going to spring that on me?”

The ghost doesn’t reply, just smirks, and Thomas shakes his head. “Well, I think we’re going to be here for a while, then.”

[giolovesyousm]

Day 3 of Deadboyween Weeks:

Disguise

I can be whatever you want, whoever you want. I can change my shape to fit yours, as long as you're gonna be my property.

A stolen skin, do you prefer a sharp smile or soft eyes? A cat, a crow, a lover, what really is the difference? What am I under the epidermis, a carnal need you could fulfill; I could twist your mind, I live there, don't I? My memories will haunt you like a nightmare, do you like that?

What lies behind me? You figured. You can call me lonely but you'll never be as long as my remembrances live inside you.

"Leave me" I can't, you're in my possession, the lovely wristlet is my signed custody.

I can be Him if it pleases you enough.

[fintellectualproperty]

can I request this dude to be drawn please??

yes ofc !! such a cute little guy :))))) what’s their name ?

[bright--paws]

Trick or treat!

your treat is seeing spooked and baby eyes. appreciate them

[finchmarie]

Spotify wrapped, 39, 67, 92?

39 - Vampire - Dylan Fraser & Alaska Reid

67 - Black Madonna - Cage the Elephant

92 - Naked in Manhattan - Chappell Roan

[that-ineffable-devil]

The first time I saw Esther ripping apart her crow I was VERY upset at what was happening, and then she just summoned a twink from whatever living effigy she stitched together and I...

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

[echoing laughter] Jude: Yeah, well.. at least I’m not scared of water. Levi: I’m not scared, I have a medical condition! Jude: What’s it called, little bitch-itis? [Robin shouldn’t have laughed, especially since Levi had a pretty legitimate reason for being terrified of water; but still; that was a good one] Levi: You can shut up too! Jude: Hurr say something, durr shut up-.. make your mind up. [Robin rolled his eyes and ducked underwater, kicking Jude in the ribs for good measure; they shouldn’t bother] Levi: You just wait until-… Jude: Come n’ get me now if you want-.. oh wait. Coach: Aye, keep running your mouth Moya.. I’m sure your mom won’t have ‘nowt to say about it. [Jude scowled at Levi before turning around, launching as much water as possible in his classmate’s direction] … Levi: Not so tough without your mate, are you? [Robin kicked his locker shut with force enough to rock it; he’d had enough of Levi recently] Levi: Laugh at me again, I dare yo-… [Levi didn’t quite manage to finish his sentence]