(first sentence meme)
Now he wasn't saying the place was haunted, but he definitely wasn't not saying it, either.
(fandom and character/au of choice!)
(y'know it's been a minute since i did anything msa... and per usual i'm absolute dogshit at sticking to that sentence limit. honestly i forgot it even existed this time) (src - still open!)
It wasn't just the age—though it was old—but old places weren't inherently haunted, in Arthur's opinion. Sure, every place tended to acquire a sort of... flavor, over time, as they were lived in, but sometimes that vibe was calm. Peaceful.
This place was—not. It was not that, even if Vivi apparently couldn't feel it. It had an almost oppressive air of anger to it, low and simmering, like the old walls were glaring daggers down at them. And it felt... there was this nagging in the back of his head, like something he was forgetting that he should have remembered. Something important about this place. That meant something.
Per usual, though, his vocal complaints were being ignored—until they came to a bigger room. It might have been some kind of theater, once, or a performance hall, or—
Any speculation was cut short when the centerpiece of the room—sparked, immediately making everything else a distantly secondary concern. That feeling of hatred spiked with it, too, sending his heart rate instantly through the roof—and seriously, if Vivi thought he was still making shit up now—
"You've got a lot of nerve, K," a voice echoed around the vast room, "waltzing back in here like nothing's wrong."
The fire—the fire that radiated an entire spectrum of warm colors, edging into a magenta that couldn't be anything natural—coalesced into a form that was starting to look almost—human.
"Your expression says you maybe haven't remembered me yet," it—he says. "That's fine."
He waves one hand, and a whip of fire whirls around the edge of the room, making doors that definitely weren't there before all slam in an almost rhythmic thunk-thunk-thunk.
A pair of neon-white eyes glare like they're trying to burn holes through his skull. It feels almost like they're succeeding.
"I'm more than happy to help remind you."
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Disassembly Drone Body Langauge part 1
Mostly wings and some tail
probably gonna add some more unique ones once i figure this out properly. hrmmm
my important ones are the upwards wing pose being territorial / courting, and the tail wag being happy or on edge.
Some extras that i might draw later if i figure out how idk:
They will naturally wrap their tails around people they like in a wide arc. It’s something that could go unnoticed, even by the DD, as they just do it subconsciously. You can figure out who a DD is protective over this way.
Pointing their wings outwards but flattening them (rotating them into a horizontal pose instead of a vertical one) and crouching down a little is seen as being submissive. Dominant ones will normally have their wings positioned wider and vertical.
Also some elaborations because i like talking about shit i make up:
Sometimes when courting they’ll shake their wings a little bit to make them appear glittery or more flashy, which makes some soft clinking noises.
Their tails abide by dog and cat-like mannerisms. They wag when happy, tuck them under their legs when scared or worried, will slowly wave them around when agitated.
N does this unique (and cute!) thing where he holds his tail in his hands when he’s worried like some stuffed animal. kind of
anyways i love non-verbal methods of communication and i will do this again
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so i had this crazy idea (theory time?)
i'm pretty sure this person is actually just straight up xander. which has various implications that i will elaborate on below the cut
here's why this person could be xander
first off, the bloody fork in the background reminds me of xander's eye wound, which i have provided a photo of here;
the claw marks made to gouge his eye out look like they could be done by a fork, if enough force was used by the assailant. the wound also seems fresh, and xander doesn't remember where it came from.
second off, the fact that the mystery character talks about a person using she/her pronouns attacking them. i believe this person is teruko, based off the fact that they're the only character the mystery character namedrops, especially since teruko uses she/her and this character was very recently attacked (as in, them holding a grudge for their injury would make sense).
these ideas are also supported by this scene, also at the very beginning of the prologue;
xander's wound reopened when teruko bumped into him, showing how recent the injury must be, as well as potentially foreshadowing the fact that she is (most likely) his assailant.
and also, this person has the same convictions that xander shows prior to his death; to end the killing game (and later, to kill teruko).
so... what about the note? who gave xander the note telling him to kill teruko, and if he is the prologue character, why would he even need a note telling him to kill teruko?
as of right now, i believe that xander actually wrote the note. at least, whatever xander from the circumstances of the prologue did. xander, as we know him normally, has the same memory loss as all the other students, so it's possible a note would have to be written for him so that he would remember to carry this out.
i think the answer as to how xander wrote this note for himself at a different time than the present is related to the nature of drdt's killing game; in other words, i don't have any concrete evidence, unless if anyone wants to hear my speculation on how this killing game might work.
however, we must also address the elephant in the room;
this line.
this line suggests that someone else has told xander to kill teruko, which i think is why we've all been focusing on who could've convinced xander to kill her.
the trick to this question is that i don't think that's how it's supposed to be answered; it's unlikely anyone else besides xander could, except for maybe the mastermind (which creates more questions than answers)
after all, xander hasn't known anyone there for more than 3 days, except for david (parasocially), so i sincerely doubt anyone in the killing game cast could convince xander to kill teruko (based off what we know so far).
and contrary to popular opinion, i don't think david wrote the note. in my opinion, this contradicts david's characterization, especially in the recently released ch2 ep12. this whole time, he's been justifying and excusing xander's actions (something he's done since the chapter 1 trial), wholeheartedly believing that xander must have had a "good reason" all because david was a fan of him prior to them meeting. i also think xander's ideals are too strong for him to instantly believe a note that david wrote, and he'd most likely become disillusioned with david and begin to dislike him; most likely believing in the rumors he's heard about him prior as well.
but... if xander himself wrote the note, and if xander knew it had to be himself who wrote it based off whatever information was in the rest of that note; then he'd be compelled to follow through with his own judgment, regardless of his own doubts. this is why when he starts talking to himself after stabbing teruko, he's asking why "you" (himself) asked him to kill teruko. it's self-directed to someone who has to be him but that he can't fully understand because of his lost memories, hence why xander almost seems to separate himself from the situation.
idk how well this will hold up in the future but yeaahhh
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Ur writing is great and all but can you write something where Peter is nicer?! I'm over here squirming like a donkey with a carrot dangled in its face and idk I wanna see Peter squirm for once
Ps. I literally inhaled all of ur blurbs in one sitting
dress
tasm!peter x fem!reader
a/n: actually i am physically incapable of making either one of them nice. it’s a character flaw
*
“peter,” you call, slipping some elaborate strap through shoes you know you’re going to regret later, but are far too good, too hot for now. “are you almost ready?”
last you heard, he’d been putting on his socks and just needed to grab his tie—which he had conviently forgot about.
but knowing peter, you’re not so sure.
you hear a grunt from the other room which means absolutely nothing, and, of course, everything.
“babe,” you whine, standing up to admire your leg for a moment, and then walking into the bedroom, click-clacking on your way. “we’re already fifteen minutes late.”
peter is standing in front of the mirror messing with his hair while his tie hangs loose from his neck. “ j’st one sec,” he mumbles, flipping his mop of a head to the other side like it’s going to fix anything.
“you know you’re supposed to tie that, right?”
“it’s in the name,” peter answers, rolling his eyes before they meet yours in the mirror, and widen every so slightly. “ouch,” he says, turning around you look at you.
“what?”
“that’s what you’re wearing?”
you look down to your dress; you’d been saving it for some special occasion, been waiting at least a year to pull it out from the back of the closet. it’s long and elegant, shows off just the right amount of skin, and is in peters favorite color (not that it matters).
you frown. “yes? is there something wrong with it?”
peter turns around again, clearing his throat. his hands reach for the ends of his tie, but he doesn’t do anything more. his eyes are on yours through the mirror. “nothing,” he says, while watching you.
but his voice is off and he’s still frozen, like he can’t move until you look away.
but you’re not going to back down first, obviously. he doesn’t get the win.
“no,” you say, walking to place a hand on the side of his waist. “what’s up?” you ask, leaning up so your whispering in his ear.
“it’s pretty.”
“then why do you look like i’ve just stolen your baby or something?”
peter shakes his head, and finally, he looks away. his hair gets more messy with every movement he makes. “i’m just nervous.”
“you’re nervous about a charity event that you volunteered both of us to go to?”
“i think the mayor might be there…” he mumbles, messing with the cuffs on his sleeves.
(it’s only slightly distracting)
you snort. “you literally asked the mayor for a fist bump on the news the other day.”
“hey,” peter says, tilting his chin up, “i didn’t do anything.”
“whatever, peter. what’s really going on?”
“i already told you.”
he’s messing with his tie again, but his hands are shaking a bit. and even though he’s pretending to wrap two ends around eachother, he’s not really doing anything at all. just mindlessly fidgeting.
you look at his face, brows furrowed. there’s a hint of pink on his cheeks, and when his eyes meet yours for just a split second, he’s flashing them away like he’s afraid that you’ll catch him.
you blink, frowning, and then you get it.
you smile at him, a bit cruelly.
“you’re nervous, huh?” you say, moving even closer to him. a hand falls on his shoulder, and the other plays with a loose strand of his hair. “this is a big event.”
“uh-huh.”
“i completely understand. who knows what might happen,” you whisper, faux pity in your voice. you turn so you’re facing him, pulling him towards you from the two ends of his tie. peter follows almost limp. “here,” you say, smiling at him, “let me help.”
you wrap the ends into a knot, not looking away from peters eyes for even one moment. you don’t think he’ll mind if his tie turns into a bow.
“you look really nice,” you tell him, whispering even though he’s the only one that can hear you. “i knew you’d look good in a suit.”
peter swallows. “you’ve seen me in one before.”
“mmm, this is different. i’ve never seen you put one on before.” a finger trails up his jaw, and you tilt your head at him.
“oh.”
you giggle, and finally look away, tightening the tie up to his neck. when it’s done you look up at him, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his chin. “there. good?”
peter clears his throat again and turns from your hands to look in the mirror. he straightens the tie, though clenches his fist before he can do it. he nods at you. “thanks.”
“anytime,” you tell him, moving away. you look in the mirror, playing with your hair. “do i look alright?”
peters head snaps towards you. “of course. you look great.”
“really? cause i wasn’t so sure about this dress…” you look down at it, a false pout on your lips.
“it’s beautiful.”
“are you sure, peter? because you kind of froze when i walked in, so… if there’s something wrong with it—“
“no,” peter interrupts. he spins you so your facing him. “it looks great. you look great.”
you sigh, and pull away the tiniest bit. “i guess i could still change, but we might be even later.”
“you don’t need to change,” peter says. his cheeks are even rosier now, and his eyes seem almost pained. but he doesn’t look away from your face.
“you cant even look at me, peter. you don’t need to lie.”
there’s a pause where you’re looking at peter—and even though your face is serious, your eyes are deadly. you want to watch him break. he’s looking back at you, eyes faltering, mouth opening and closing like he’s not quite sure what to say.
and then he shakes his head, sighing. “i cant look at you,” he admits, voice a bit harsh but quiet.
you tilt your head, “why not?”
“we’re already late.”
“what do you mean?”
peter hangs his head for a moment, laughing at the floor. then he looks back at you, and pulls you in by your waist. “if you want to leave any time tonight, then we can’t stand here any longer. i’m already going crazy.”
“why? are you okay?”
he scoffs at you. “c’mon, don’t tease.”
“i would never, peter.”
he rolls his eyes. “i know what you’re doing,” he whispers, leaving a peck on your nose. “and so do you.”
“i’m not doing—“
but he kisses you, rough like he’s been waiting to do it for years on end. his mouth his hot and his hands are desperate as they cling to your waist, your neck, keeping you from moving even a centimeter away from him.
you cant breathe when he kisses you like this, but it’s not completely necessary. you kiss him back with just as much fever, your fingers wrapping into his hair.
when he pulls away, he’s breathless and his eyes are dark. “we really have to go,” he says, voice raw.
you smile up at him, feeling just as breathless. “so you like the dress?”
*
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