#i'm by far not the first with this headcanon nor will i be the last

[vintageseawitch]

he is so bisexual i can't even-

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Werewolf Headcanons

I've been stalked by the guilty feeling that my Romanian Werewolf boy got a lot of backstory but not much romance or interaction. So there you have it: some headcanons featuring the ancient Beast, a post-kidnapping sequel.

Content: female reader, obsessive behavior, monster romance, mild NSFW at the end, ridiculously older yandere

You followed the gargantuan stranger back into the city, leaving the bloodbath behind as if it was just a distant dream. Admittedly, you’d expected to be dragged into some mountainous cave or an abandoned mansion, not the cozy - albeit a little dusty - apartment on a main, historical street. On second thought, he did function as a human outside of his monstrous escapades, so it made sense. “Is this your place?”, you sheepishly asked while he wiped the thick layers of blood off him. “One of them, yes”, he answered curtly. “It’s central”, you remarked, trying to make conversation. “Well, I didn’t know about it back then. It’s been a few decades.”

Your ears perked up at the words. Gazing at his features, he didn’t seem necessarily aged to you. The deep creases contouring his face felt more like a sign that he’s lived sorrows beyond most people’s comprehension. “How old are you?” You finally asked as curiosity replaced your initial fear. He abruptly stopped his movements and leaned back, brows furrowed in deep contemplation. “I’m not so sure anymore. I was born in the 80s”, he concluded. “That’s not too far back, is it?” You inquired, this time more relaxed. “80 BC, I meant. You do the math.”

He freshened himself up as you counted the millennia on your fingers, frowning in confusion. He chuckled at your intense focus, then quickly looked up into the mirror. When was the last time he smiled like this? The reflection was a foreign sight to him. “We’ll get you everything you need tomorrow”, he continued, still in a daze. What a strange idea, having someone to speak to after an eternity. And suddenly, it occurred to him just how rusted his communication had gotten: “I’m so sorry, I haven’t asked for your name once”, he said, embarrassed. “It’s (Y/N). And you are...?" Might as well introduce yourself to your benevolent captor.

The dreaded question. How did they call him back in the day? He hasn't had anyone spell it out for him, nor did he feel the need at any point to say it himself. Why would he? He hadn't anticipated meeting you. With pursed lips, he searched his mind. Eventually, from the depths or memories, from days of yore, it made its way back: "Daos."

Given your first gory encounter (where he quite literally murdered everyone else), you were surprised to find out he's otherwise a calm and polite individual. Well, he's had centuries to mature, you suppose. You've also noticed he has that rather old-fashioned chivalry to him. He's very attentive despite his stoic demeanor, and often follows with acts of service.

"You're insulting me. I can carry this myself with ease", you'll argue. "I never doubted you can. Nonetheless, it is my wish to do it for you."

As the days pass, your reluctance seems to vanish as well. In fact, you've become particularly cheeky, encouraged by his warm, unperturbed behavior. Maybe you haven't gotten the worst deal out there, after all.

"You know, you talk like an old man", you've teased him once. He was visibly taken aback by your statement, and you could discern a faint blush on his face. "Do I? My apologies, I haven't spoken to anyone in a long time. I'm not familiar with modern speech. Have I embarrassed you somehow?"

He spends his free time reading, though he will frequently take you on walks. It's an interesting affair to say the least. You can feel the curious eyes of the passersby and hear their not-so-discreet whispered gossip. You can't truly blame them: Daos is enormous even as a human. He towers above everyone else with his imposing appearance. To match, his voice is deep and coarse as a result of not using it much until recently.

The ancient werewolf is a living history book. If asked, he will narrate to you important events or details you might be curious about regarding his culture. Once, when he'd been in a good mood, he even shared fragments of his life before turning into a creature. He'd been a high-ranked Dacian warrior, spending his days training or fighting. He still remembers the flag he carried with bitter fondness, yet another irony to his fate: a wolf-headed serpent. It was meant to showcase their way of life; barbarians with no fear of death. They'd greeted the Roman Empire with nothing but a sword and a shield, no shred of doubt.

He might've been betrayed by his people, but the pride remains. The pride of a soldier who's never known defeat. You learned quickly that his beastly form doesn't count as a significant change by any means, save for appearances. The man has brute strength even as a human. You'd once strayed from his view, and a stranger approached with a daring whistle, gawking you up and down. Before you could react, Daos clawed him by the throat. You heard the twist of the skin and the creak of the bones giving in to the immense pressure of his large hand.

"It's the second time I have exposed you to such unpleasant sights", he said, discarding the body as if it was any other garbage. "Forgive me, but I will not have you disrespected like this."

He is very much aware he's taken you away from the world out of his own selfish desire. The fact that you accepted it is more than he could ever ask for. That's what he keeps telling himself, even as his eyes wander to your lips whenever you speak. Or as his hand lingers a moment too long against the curve of your back. Or as he hungrily takes in your scent whenever you're nearby.

He might be unhealthily possessive of you, but Daos will never do anything against your will. No matter how obvious his urges are. In fact, no amount of flirting or teasing will shake his resolve. You will have to be very direct with your approval.

Once the reality settles in, he'll become extremely affectionate, bordering on obsessive. To think he could have you in every way possible. Oh, he's waited thousands of years for you. All the suffering, the loneliness, the anger, they're stripped of any meaning now that he has you.

The city strolls at an awkward distance have since become a habitual excuse to hold your hand and show you off to the mortals. The quiet evenings of passing time with a book now include your merely noticeable weight cuddled into his lap. You didn't expect him to be this adoring. Being touch-starved for millennia counts as one reason, naturally, but there's more to it, so much more. And it all leads back to you.

He is a little taken aback when you ask him to do the deed in his werewolf form. "Don't be foolish. I can't overcome my instincts as well when I'm a creature. I could harm you", he'll lecture you. "Besides, you can barely take it as it currently is", he'll add, smirking at your baffled expression. It seems he's picked up on your cheekiness.

After a lot of pleading and waiting for the right moment - when he's ravaging you in a daze - he finally agrees. True to his word, his tune instantly changes. The tender hold turns into a desperate grasp sinking into your skin, and the thrusts become irregular, almost frantic. His drool cools your burning cheeks as you hold onto the coarse fur, feverish and overwhelmed.

His golden eyes rest on the small human squirming underneath him, and suddenly, he can't help but notice: you have the perfect birthing hips.

[mondaymelon]

when they first fell in love with you. ♡

(sumeru genshin impact males x gn!reader)

written headcanon style! enjoy ✩

(a/n) might be writing a part two of this with tighnari and some other male genshin characters so please comment which characters you would like to see! thank you for reading ♡

˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚

cyno ♡

he was never the emotional man, at least not around other people. but to you, he was just the hobby-chasing mahamatra who liked to play card games religiously.

the two of you met a long time ago, years before, during his time at the academia. The two of you had the same biology class. over the course of half a semester and more than a few group projects, you could say the two of you had grown relatively close.

close enough that cyno, being cyno, was comfortable enough to tell always tell you his most terrible jokes.

"hey. why did the biologist break up with the physicist?"

you had stared at him quizzically, not sure if this was a test or an actual question about the work, but replied anyway. "what?"

"they... had no chemistry."

"..."

"do you get it - because like chemistry is a subject of science and biologists study the science of life and we're in science class and-"

he'll never forget the way you laughed that day. the way your serious expression faded into one trying to hold back laughter, and the way your lips curved upwards instantly... he felt his heart skip a beat as you let out a quiet giggle under your breath. he didn't know why or what, but a wave of affection swept over him, almost engulfing him completely before he reeled it back, face tinted red.

"hehe, you're funny, cyno." you had told him, smiling sweetly, still struggling to mute your laughs.

"am i?" cynos crimson eyes were wide as he looked at you with a look of surprise.

"mhm!" you nodded at him, beaming. "oh, are you free after school today? we should meet up to do the homework."

cyno hid his face from you then, face burning and flushed red as he mumbled out a response. "i'm free."

"great!" you slid him a slip of paper, torn off of your biology worksheet. "i figured you should have my number. don't forget to text me, okay?"

"i won't."

and he kept his word.

al haitham ♡

it all happened after the school announced an academia-wide field trip to the desert, quite the far trek in hindsight. you were surprised the school even agreed to it. that aside, the entire school was excited about it, especially to people who had moved from the sandy dunes to the lively rainforest in order to study at the academia.

however, al haitham, your literature class partner, had stayed silent. you glanced at him several times throughout the entire day, but his expression didn't change one bit, nor did he even look from his book.

"al haitham." you called out his name, eyes sparkling curiously. "what are you reading?"

"a comprehensive look at sumeru's last 300 years." his answer was short and quick. you whistled, impressed that he was willingly reading such a text.

"are you going on the field trip?" you questioned, wanting to ask but not wanting to annoy him.

"i see no reason not to." yet another blatant answer. he turned the page absent-mindingly, eyes trailing from sentence to sentence. you decided to let him read, not wanting to bother him more than you already had.

just then, a group of students walked into the room, bustling about loudly and chatting amongst themselves not too quietly at all. if they noticed the two of you, they certainly didn't care. they laughed and shouted some more before taking the tables next to where the two of you sat and continued to squawk about.

you caught al haitham wincing at the noise, mutely noting the fact that he had taken off his headphones. you never realized the ashen-haired man had sensitive hearing, but now a lot more things made sense- especially the fact that haitham never ate lunch, like the other students, in the cafeteria.

hesitantly, you reached up and cupped your hands over al haitham's exposed ears. "is it too loud?" you whispered as quietly as you could, hoping that al haitham wouldn't be bothered by your question.

as you glanced down at his expression, his look of astoundment startled you. his emerald eyes sparkled with a look of tenderness that you would've expected as he gazed up at you, his diamond shaped pupils staring up at you and you only.

then, so subtle you almost missed it, he whispered, face flushed:

"thank you."

kaveh ♡

kaveh was always a friendly person, and that was certainly not an exception when it came to you. after a class, he would always burst into the room and come to walk you to your next one.

it come to a point where you would wait for him to show up after the lecture ended, purposely packing up your things slower as you scanned the door for any signs of the blonde man. and he always showed up.

always.

except, then he didn't. you waited until the students of the next hour began to come in, and then waited more until you were sure you were already late. yet, he still didn't show up. worry began gnawing at your stomach as you fidgeted through all of your classes that day, mind cloudy.

and he wasn't there the day after that, either. you missed his presence, his sunny demeanor, and his blushing reaction whenever you decided to tease him.

after about a week of the constant torture, he showed up again, grinning and raising his hand as if he was expecting a wave after your design class.

and you didn't just give him a wave. you dropped all your things instantly, eyes wide and teary, and leaped onto the man, sending both of you tumbling to the ground as you gave him the tightest hug you could manage.

underneath you, kaveh let out a shout of surprise, trying to get you off of him so he could get up, but he wouldn't budge. and he glanced down at you, confused at what had gotten you so worked up, he spotted glistening tears spilling down your face.

"wh-what's happened?" he questioned with a worried expression as he helped you up, tears still running down from your eyes. "did someone hurt you? who was it??"

"idiot..." you leaned against his figure, burying your face into his chest, not caring if you were to be late or not. "you left without a word...!"

"i-i'm sorry-!" kaveh glanced down at your figure clinging onto him, face flushed as his heart pounded so loud that he was sure you would be able to hear it. "i caught a cold..."

"don't leave me again like that, okay??"

"o-okay."

wanderer ♡

you had known him for a long time now, you would've admitted if you had no other choice but to be truthful. but it was a hopeless thing, since never once did he ever seem to notice you - much less care about you or your wellbeing.

at least he had never outright told you that he disliked your presence. it was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

so it was a surprise when he showed up at your doorstep, clothes and hair drenched from the relentless rain outside. he stared at the ground sheepishly, expression embarrassed as he spoke. "i... i didn't have anywhere else to go."

"oh." you had stood there for quite a bit, mouth rounded and eyes wide before returning to your senses. "you can come inside. i'll get you a towel."

the dark-haired man nodded silently, stepping outside as drops of water fell from the sides of his hat. you halted, whipping around. "leave that on the porch."

"but-"

"it's wet. it's going to be no help when we try to get you dry." seeing scaramouche's face fall, you cleared your throat. "but if you must, you can leave it in the mudroom."

"...alright."

you weren't even sure why he was sitting in your living room, a towel around him and sitting on your couch by the fireside, slowly sipping a hot mug of tea. he didn't seem to be thinking of speaking anytime soon, so you did it in his place.

"did you need something?" you questioned him after taking a long sip from your own mug.

"no, i just..." he shook his head. "can i stay here? just for a little while longer?"

the softness in his voice startled you, but you managed to give him an answer without stuttering either way. "you can stay for however long you want." at your response, you saw the male's eyes light up, along with his face flushing a bit too, an action that was not gone unnoticed.

"...i appreciate it. i want you to know that i really do. thank you."

masterlist ✩ next

[r0-boat]

Whb Omegaverse AU headcanons

Reader is an omega for this specific post! Because all of you are bottoms/j

Nsfw

Cw: dubcon heavy dubcon, implications of noncon, Omegaverse dynamics.

Oh no

Being an omega in whb is something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. You already need demon cum to survive now you just need demon dick to survive your heat. I don't think all devils and hell are just not going to take advantage of you during your heat where your vulnerable and wanting.

Devils are in a weird middle ground where they are neither Alpha, Omega nor Beta But the same time all of them. It's weird because they have a completely different scent that feels like an alpha however can also have a calming scent as an omega. They have Alpha ruts and Omega heats. And they can mark anyone as their mate as they please. They can have multiple mates but a lot of devils only choose one.

To prevent you from getting mated you have to put on a indestructible bite proof collar. It has the power to withstand Lucifer with his vampiric teeth so I think you're safe. Especially because demons have sharper teeth.

Fear for your safety in Abaddon. Like never go outside without your heat suppressants it's not like that will really work because devils will still smell you even with suppressants. And only Kings can withstand the scent of a delicious human in heat. Other devils even sometimes nobles are weak to the scent. Good luck protecting yourself when one of them is in that rut. I guess you're only other option is just always have a trusted devil with you when you go outside.

By the way demon ruts are far more intense than human Alpha. Like I'm talking fighting in the street. Starting brawls in Bars. Yes Kings can hold back when they can smell you in heat but that doesn't mean they do. They're demons, and that means extra devil energy for you. :) You're done for.

Demons from Abyssos and Abaddon are the only exceptions if they sense that you're in heat they becomes a feral animal, hell bent on marking you. You better run from Beel and Bael

Bael is an interesting case. To appear kingly he tries so hard to reject the animalistic drive to pounce on you. And he actually tries to avoid you. Until he can't take the tightness in his pants anymore.

Beel will break into your room through the window to have his way with you like the creature of the night he is.

The Kings start a passive aggressive war on each other by scenting. At first it was just a way to protect you and ward off angels. Then Levi the last meeting scent it you right in front of Satan Even though he just did that, Levi even went the extra mile making sure he covered up every spot Satan scented. The next time you ever visit him he will make sure you REEK of his scent.

On a lighter note I'm pretty sure everything would be so endearing to you when you're starting to nest. Demons would send you gifts of the finest material to make into your nest. To any devil it would be an honor to add his clothing into your nest because you just simply think They smell good. Even though you'll try to nest and secluded spot You're a little nesting spot will be found out and protected like their lives depended on it. Driving away any other devils that are too persistent or angels also drawn to your scent.

Devils with strong provider instinct like mammon would be worsen during the heat. These devils are the ones giving you gifts. Especially food.

Satan is growling and barking being your little guard dog. Anyone touches you They are dead. He inspects any gifts you are given. Beel it's already in your nest (He's ready when you are) Levi is about to bust a blood vessel just about to throw all these demons out. He knows that you need to be alone and only you can decide who can come in to your own nest (a rare moment of clarity for Levi?!)

Lucifer is trying so hard to hold back to your pheromones. Angels can smell them but they cannot feel the pull of your irresistible scent. Now that he has a fallen angel and the devil He is not quite used to smelling you. And he is trying to resist.

Minhyeok is an alpha, and he's been getting by on his ruts by just running into the stuff that smells like you, your underwear your dirty clothes, That damn chair. Now that you're gone he's starting to go through shampoo and lotion you use. Ruts are getting harder and harder to go through and he needs you so bad. Before you were taken to hell He always subconsciously thought you were his omega even though he hasn't mated you yet. Since you always smelled like him which he liked because deterred alphas.

[judasgot-it]

HELLO‼️‼️ If you’re okay with it could u maybe write Tecchou with an s/o who tends to injure themselves on missions because they feel the need to “protect” him even if he is the strongest hunting dog😭😭 AHAKXBSBSKSSNSNJAJKS I don’t mind it if you write a oneshot or headcanons, i rlly don’t mind anything tbh (or just ignore this in general if you have no motivation/ideas for it)

I would do this because Tecchou is my pookie and I'm stupid as hell. Delusional, even.

The new chapter was terrible and I hope Tecchou stays alive. MY POOKIE MUST LIVE

Scenario: Getting injured while defending Tecchou (i guess this is angsty sorry its the mood im in)

You had fucked up. Big time.

Being a Hunting Dog meant that you were going to be injured. Also meant that you were going to fight while you were still healing those injuries.

It didn't matter. It never mattered.

This was what the job called for, and you were always going to have to just deal with it. That's what it meant when your body was never truly yours.

But you were stupid, and sometimes you would rather forget this part of yourself.

You weren't the strongest in your group - far from it. Nor were you the smartest.

Maybe the dumbest. Because right now, you were sure you had just killed yourself on the field. A stupid decision, really; it hurts to die. It hurts a lot, and you don't know why you didn't know that.

"Y/n."

"I'm sorry." What were you supposed to say? You died. Came back, but you had also died.

And now Tecchou seemed upset at you for it. His golden eyes were making holes through your skull, which was honestly a horrible feeling. He was usually easy to read when you knew his little quirks - the lines of his face, and how his body was almost always relaxed around the team.

Right now it was like he was on high alert. But also angry. His face hadn't changed, and it was making you scared.

"Y/n," He breathed in a breath so large it was as if he was breathing in slow motion. The only time he took his gaze away was to blink, and it was frightening how yellow his eyes really were. "Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"I'm not stupid." Tecchou laid his sword out across his lap - hard to tell if he was relaxed or trying to intimidate you. Just his stance, the way he spread his large body out in the hospital bed so naturally had made you feel so small.

"I just don't know what you mean."

"Why did you die?"

"...Because I got stabbed in the neck?"

Tecchou's face looked as if you had farted at a funeral. It was almost an impossible feat to pull the look from the man, so you should really give yourself an award.

Unfortunately, he only gave you a few seconds to enjoy the look, as he wiped it away quickly, instead starting a staring contest with a poster on the wall.

You wanted to say something to make him feel better - you had died, so really, shouldn't you be celebrating the medical miracle? Plus, you did die to save him.

Why would he be upset?

Carefully, you pulled yourself up from your hospital bed, leaning closer to the chestnut-haired man and gave him your best smile. You felt a little gross, and you hoped he wouldn't mind - you hadn't gotten the chance to brush your teeth since your last battle, so you were sure you looked disgusting.

"Are you okay?" You felt almost weak saying that.

Of course he would be okay. He was Tecchou Suehiro, the strongest hunting dog. He was sitting in the chair, untouched, while you were bedridden and covered in new scars.

"I'm," His hand reached for your wrist, thumbing around to feel the bones that hid underneath your skin. His eyes said nothing, only staring at your skin as he prodded around. "You fucking died."

"Died for you."

The concept wasn't hard. It was so easy to say it, but Tecchou only stared at you, as if he had heard it again for the first time.

I would die for you.

Not a new concept for lovers, by any means. Although, maybe it meant a little more when you were both soldiers.

"I can protect you, Y/n."

Tecchou looked up at you, his amber eyes glassy. His hand grabbed your shoulder, a firm grip as he leaned in close enough to breathe in your air. You would have leaned away, but he had eaten something sweeter earlier and it lingered on his breath, making the interrogation bearable.

It was also impossible to look away, given that his face was beautiful underneath even the worst of hospital lighting.

"I want to protect you, Tecchou."

"But you died."

"That's our job."

He sighed, leaning his body against the bed. You were trapped, and there was no way to escape him. Tecchou had practically started to steal your breaths as they came out of your mouth, the conversation continuing as normal.

"I would rather it be me than you."

One of his hands reached up to brush your hair out of your face, taking his time as his fingers reached a knot and gently brushing through it. He took his fingers and played with hair like this, slowly dragging them across your scalp.

"That's depressing. We can't both die."

You tried your best to laugh, despite the stitches along your throat. The best you could do was a smile, which Tecchou returned with mercy.

It wasn't funny, but neither was dying.

this probably should be longer but like yolo

[kurosstuff]

✨Vampire Sera x GNreader x Vampire Lute✨ I want it

Headcanons this time around~ and fluff with a HINT of angst~♡

Kinda short this time around♡

Warning(s): blood drinking, fluff, jealousy (?) Slight spice? Two small drabbles

Vampire sera x GN!reader x Vampire lute: headcanons

Having two vampire lovers while being a human wasn't always easy.

Especially if one just so happened to be hungry- thats when it wasn't the greatest. Especially since both are addicted to your blood.

Lute. When she drank from you? Wasnt always nice nor gentle. Cause unlike Sera. She can't be gentle. Bruises always from Lute- who didn't mean to but she did try.

She does know her strength knows what she csn do if not careful but she tries

"Quit moving~" Lute snarled out, holding your waist in a bruising hold you just knew was gonna hurt for days

"ok, ok- I'm sorry" you huffed out, tilting your head for her to chomp down on gasping as she fed clinging to her shoulders tightly tearfully at the stinging pain you felt "lute.. gentle~" you gasped out, feeling her Claws digging into your skin breaking it almost as if wanting to shred you

Once lute got feral- all blood thirsty for your blood Sera needs to step in. Or she'll drink you dry

Not like you mind

Each time it happens Lute hides. Refusing to see you go anywhere near you. No matter where you look you never can find her.

Sera knows, but she also knows lute needs to forgive herself first. Before she can go to their Mate again. Sera is annoyed given how often she's reminded her thst their mate is a human. A fragile human.

But when lute does come around you forgive her like always knowing she didn't truly mean too. She'll hold you close kissing any marks she left on you as gently as she can.

Now? Sera stays in the room as she feeds.

Sera, on the other hand? Is gentle. Rarely losing herself- always taking your hand whispering softly to you. Praising you.

Just being soft as she pulls you in her lap cooing before she drinks.

Unlike Lutes, it doesn't feel like she's trying to drain you. To eat you. She's as gentle as possible like a small prick if anything given how gently she bites to drink.

But there's days she's too thirsty.

Hungry

That's when you need to worry.

Seeing Sera stare you in your doorway. Like a predator, and you're her prey. You gulped knowing what was gonna happen. Covering your neck- your warnings and concerns falling on deaf ears as she pins you, kissing you roughly before biting you harshly holding you close as she gets her full.

So gone she didn't hear your cries. Or lutes yells before she was ripped away as lute screamed trying to cover your bloody neck sobbing as she drank way to much.

That made her snap out of it. Seeing your fear on your face

That was the first time and last time Sera ever lost control enough. She almost killed you. Never again will she allow it to happen.

To see your fear. Of her.

But not everything is stressful. There's romantic days where you show them modern stuff and have fun with that

Aka pranking them every now and again

You learned the hard way lute. Doesn't understand jokes at all. And to never prank or joke with much stuff with her.

Sera gets it and laughs(cause of Emily) but she prefers to keep it on the rare occasions

Both ladies insist on you sleeping in between them when it's time to sleep no matter what.

"To protect you!" - lute(she just wants to steal your warmth as well)

Now- when it comes to their bat forms?(and any other animal they decide to be)

Free hugs/cuddles. And they know it. How eager and happy you are to love up on them

Both ladies adore it-

Even going as far as turning back to tease you. Each time it works.

Lute does that a lot mire then Sera does- who prefer you to be happy and if that meant her being in one of her animal forms? Then so be it

[weepingchronicles]

platonic yandere katara headcanons

tw/cw: overbearing behavior, yandere, guilt tripping, infantilizing

a/n: yippie katara headcanons! this is just thoughts I had and female yanderes are so underated here especially katara herself

I'm also working your guys requests, i have a lot of drafts right now!!

katara is a very controlling but soft yandere

her tendencies are a bit more toned down if you're older than her, but if you're younger you are basically adopted as her little sibling or mother

however she sees you as, she's still very motherly

she's a bit more soft because she'll let you socialize and have friends especially with those she loves like aang, sokka and toph

but she'll get VERY protective if fire nation is somehow involved, even when she eventually warms up to zuko she doesn't like him around you

if you're fire nation however? she'll insist that you're different and the only one who is truly good in her eyes

if you go against her and talk to zuko or someone fire nation, she'll basically guilt trip you and cry

"how could you do this to me? you know my mother died by firebenders" sob sob

some part of its sincere, other half knows if she cries you'll do as she says

if you ever get sick or injured, she is by your side ALL THE TIME

if you get a smallest paper cut or bruise she'll insist on healing it for you, which is fine at first until she demands full body healing sessions DAILY just incase you're hurt somewhere she can't see or you can't feel

her controlling tendencies go to its MAX and her overwhelming need to care for you goes out of control. she'll bathe you or at least be right beside you (just incase something happens!!), cook for you, do all your clothes, EVERYTHING until you're fully healed.

she genuinely hates to see you like this and couldn't live with herself if you got hurt more because she wasn't there.

the only reason she lets you come with her and the rest of the gaang is because what if something happens to you and she isn't there to heal you? she just needs you to be within a 2 feet radius

the only way i can see you reasoning with her is if you go to sokka or aang for help, to intervene. aang straight up says no, he's too loyal to katara and knows she's projecting her trauma onto you. sokka does try talking but it ends up in a full blown argument and kinda gives up

besides it's not like she's hurting you or anything??

she'll tone it down after sokka talks with her a bit but goes back right after

so you might as well live with it! 🩷🩷

if you try to escape, which I don't blame you-

you might be able to get away for even a month or two if you prepare well enough but cmon, she has the fucking avatar as a boyfriend and a flying bison

it won't take too long before she tracks you so enjoy your freedom while it lasts

when she "reunites" with you, it's all tears. she's somehow even more overbearing and checks if you're hurt and asks 100 times as well

she won't be mad at you neither will she punish you

she'll definitely keep a closer eye on you and will snoop through your things if she believes you're plotting

the most she'll do to punish you is, again, guilt tripping

"how could you do this to me? you're just like my dad, leaving me alone!"

she's practically hysterical and the only way to calm her down is if you apologize and swear to never do it again

another thought is if she'd bloodbend for you?

I don't think she would nor do I think she'd get to the point of killing someone for you unless they MUST be stopped

but i do think she'd threaten to bloodbend others or maybe even you if pushed far enough

she'd never actually do it though..

[seyaryminamoto]

COMMISSIONS ARE NOW OPEN!

Hello, everyone! My circumstances are getting a little bit more complicated and it's been fairly tricky to find a job over the past year (aaand it's only going to get worse...), so it's time for me to fully, officially, reopen commissions. Some prices have increased since the last time I did this, mainly in the hopes that this reflects my improving skills a little better. Some options are quite costly (particularly the animations and comics) because they demand a ton more work than one might expect. Terms are also more strict than they used to be in order to ensure a more professional dynamic between myself and anyone who commissions me.

Send me a DM if you have a commission in mind, but first, make sure to read through the Read More. I want to expand on what's stated in the final picture to ensure better clarity on the terms of my services:

I'm open to working with any fandom or OC, be it one I'm familiar with or not. I'm also open to working with crossovers, as well as making book/fic/album covers, and even drawing real people as characters of a fandom of the commissioner's choice.

I am open to drawing ship/romance content but, tied directly to the next point...

I reserve the right to refuse any commissions that make me uncomfortable in any given way. This does not mean that everything besides my OTPs and the headcanons I support is guaranteed to be rejected, but it does mean that, if the behavior of the commissioner or the specific subject of the commission does not sit well with me, for any given reason, I will decline the commission. I won't work on something that squicks me, nor with someone who displeases me. No artist should.

Animals, mythological creatures, gore and +18 requests are fundamentally valid but must be discussed thoroughly first. None of these areas are my forte as an artist, as much as I've dabbled in them here and there, so, in order to get it right, I may need extra time and I will most likely modify the base price for any requests that includes these elements.

Payments will be done through PayPal or Wise. The final, full-resolution piece will not be delivered until full payment is completed. Half payment is expected at the start of the process, the second half at the end. The client is entitled to two revisions of the art process to ensure expectations are met. If a piece does not match your expectations after the revisions, the commission will be considered cancelled and you won't need to pay the second half of the expense. Any commissioner who wishes to pay upfront from the get-go does so at their own risk. Revisions are always included, but there will be no refunds if the final piece is not up to the commissioner's standards.

The commissioner is allowed to publish and share the commissioned work across social media, provided it follows the rules of each site (as in, don't post any +18 artworks on sites that do not allow it, pretty much). I can offer basic Glaze and Nightshade in order to protect the artwork from AI theft, to no added expense. Credit MUST be given to me as the artist whenever commissioned pieces are posted elsewhere.

For anyone who wants a list of fandoms I'm better acquainted with:

Avatar: the Last Airbender

Legend of Korra

Bleach

Digimon

Code Geass

Inuyasha

Dragon Ball

The Mentalist

The Dragon Prince

Disney

My Hero Academia

Dragon Age

Hades (Supergiant)

Cowboy Bebop

Hollow Knight

Star Wars

Ghibli Films

Overwatch

Full Metal Panic

Artemis Fowl

LOTR

Farscape

Haikyuu

Fullmetal Alchemist

Naruto

Stranger Things

Spy X Family

Kaguya-sama

Chronicles of Ancient Darkness

Eragon

Thor

Harry Potter

Free!

ASOIAF

Shaman King

K-ON

Critical Role/Legend of Vox Machina

Dungeons and Dragons

Blue Eye Samurai

Arcane

Castlevania

Again, any fandom, character or OC is valid, but I'm far more likely to know what I'm doing and to have my own opinions, for better or for worse, when it comes to anything on this list.

If there are any further questions, feel free to DM me and we'll sort them out!

Thanks for reading so far, and I look forward to working with you!

[luv4fandoms]

Trust me (Marko x Fem!Reader)

So part of this is based on a dream I had. Pretty much just the really weird location to have sex. But I feel like it is also very Marko and his love of heights lol.

And as always, all Italian is from Google translate so I do apologize if any of it is incorrect.

Also this plays off of my first ever headcanon post about Marko being Italian.

Word count: 3,811

Pairings: Marko x Fem!Reader

Warnings: THIS IS JUST PURE SMUT!!! MINORS DNI!!!

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

Ko-Fi

"Come on, it'll be fun"

"The last time you said that we ended up almost getting banned from the boardwalk because of trying to climb the Farris wheel"

"Babe I promise, no one will even know we're here" he smiled, that mischievous smile that let you know what he wanted was not legal nor wise…But you also knew he would never put you in harm's way.

"Fine" you sighed

"You won't regret this cutie" he told you, grabbing your hand and pulling you along. The two of you walked towards the outskirts of the boardwalk, the crowd thinning as you went.

'Well at least we're less likely to get caught'

He stopped in front of a tall structure, the entirety of it covered in fabric, cutting it off from the rest of the world.

"After you" he smirked, holding the curtain back to reveal a narrow staircase. Looking at him, then back at the stairs you could only shake your head and laugh, but ascended the stairs nonetheless. It had a few different levels, but only the very bottom had a wooden floor, the others simply held thick beams that would no doubt later support other floors, or perhaps lights.

"Keep going" you heard him speak, though you could tell he was not directly behind you, nor had you heard his footsteps yet. You stopped at another layer of beams, and again.

"Keep going"

Ascending the steps all the way to the top you look out at the large thick metal cross beams wondering just why your crazy boyfriend brought you up here.

"You're not planning on killing me right?" You joked, holding onto the end of the railing.

"No…well" he laughed, his warm breath against the back of your neck.

"Maybe a little bit" he smirked, his lips finding your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"A little bit?" You laughed, tilting your head and reaching back to run your hand through his curls as his lips made their way to the newly exposed skin.

"Piccola morte (Little death)" he spoke, his hands coming to wrap around your waist, pulling you against him, letting you feel exactly what he had in mind.

"Here?" You asked, cutting your eyes towards him, but only being able to see his golden curls as he continued to mark your neck.

"How exactly…you're completely crazy" you laughed, feeling his smile against your neck, his lips leaving your skin to whisper into your ear.

"Do you trust me?"

"You know I do, that's why I'm up here in the first place"

"Then trust me" he spoke, unwrapping his arms and helping you take your first step into the beams.

"This is crazy Marko" you breathed, looking down at the floor far below, your heart rate picking up.

"I'm not going to let you fall, take another step" and you did, because you knew he wouldn't, Marko was quick and could fly, you would be in his arms before you ever hit the ground…But that didn't stop your sudden fear of heights at that moment.

"Couple more steps" he told you, walking you slowly towards where the beams crossed, making a plus sign that would be a stable part to stand.

"There you go" he reassured you once you made it, you let him slowly turn you to face him, his hazel eyes sparkling with that same mischief.

"You're crazy" you once again told him, but the smile that tugged on your lips told him you weren't actually mad.

"You love it" he replied.

"Now, lay down" you looked down at the beams, then back at him for a moment before beginning to slowly sit, his hands never leaving your waist as he lowered himself as well. Once you were sitting he helped you lean back, your arms shooting out to grab him as he lowered you onto the beams that were just a few inches smaller than your body on either side.

"I've got you amore" he spoke, leaning down to kiss you, his lips only leaving yours once he felt you relax a bit. His kisses descended back to your neck, always his favorite spot as he licked and bit at the tender flesh, eliciting soft moans and gasps from your lips. Your hands wandered as he worked, one tangling itself in his curls, gently tugging the locks and pulling a growl from him. Your other wandered under his jacket, your hands running along his toned stomach, the skin cooler than yours but warmer than earlier, the boys had already gone out for their nightly hunt, the adrenaline no doubt being the cause of your current situation. Your hand wandered higher, nails gently scraping along his chest and earning a small thrust as he settled between your legs, the bulge much more prominent now as he began to grind against you.

"Marko" you sighed, lifting your hips to meet him and feeling him grind down harder, a low rumble vibrating against your chest as he tilted your head to the other side, determined to remark all the faded spots. The steady rumble against you grew louder the faster your heart raced, you had only heard Marko purr a few times, and noticed that it was always a different tone depending on the activity. Gently running your hand through his hair while he laid his head in your lap, a soft and gentle purr. The beginning stages of losing himself in ecstasy, a deeper rougher purr, just as he was doing now as his hips began to pick up their speed. His lips quickly attached to yours again, parting them forcefully as he stole your quickened breath, a moan tumbling into your mouth as you snuck your other hand into his shirt, your nails running along his back, just hard enough to sting.

"Cazzo! (Fuck!) " He groaned, breaking the kiss and looking down at you, pupils blown as he panted, and suddenly you felt like prey underneath a predator. You watched him lick his swollen lips, his teeth catching his bottom lip as he looked at you, his hips stilling before he smiled, his body slowly crawling backward along the beam, hands letting go of your waist which had you scrambling to grab a hold of something, your body rocking on the beam.

"Calm down amore, just relax and balance" he told you, hands grasping your ankles before slowly sliding upwards, and suddenly you were thankful for wearing a skirt, because you did not know how you would have taken pants off at the moment. He slowly pushed your skirt up, helping you lift your hips to bunch it around your waist before he lowered his body, balancing perfectly as he kissed along your thighs, tongue reaching out to swipe a path that his teeth soon followed with small nips. You started to squirm as he kissed and nipped everywhere but where you needed him, your heart picking up as you felt yourself become even wetter, you knew he could smell you, knew he could hear your heart, but Marko was known for being a tease.

"Marko" you breathed, not failing to catch the smirk that instantly spread. If there was one thing he loved it was hearing you beg for him, knowing you craved him, craved his touch, craved anything and everything he could give you. He would never admit it, but when you two first met it took him by surprise when you instantly chose to talk to him. Usually it was Paul who girls came to talk to, Paul always being the honeypot to draw in the night's meal. Or Dwayne, even though he doesn't talk much, his looks alone draw girls in. Hell even David tends to get girls drawn to him who have daddy issues, but Marko?.. Marko was fine with that, let the others do the work while he reaps the tasty benefits. But that night they hadn't necessarily been looking for a meal, the hunt a few hours before filling their need, but still Paul wanted to "score some chicks" for other reasons…And he did, a group of girls, all of them flitting to one boy or the other, but none to Marko. Rolling his eyes he looked away from his brothers and the girls, already ready to simply head back to the cave. But instead he came face to face with you as you rounded his bike.

"Sorry about them, they are a little…Eager" you laughed.

"I like your bike, and your jacket, you have a really cool style" and that was how he spent the night simply talking to you, no other motive than just to get to know the girl who actually had the guts to approach him "the ticking time bomb" of the group. It didn't take him long to claim you as his, he didn't care if his brothers wanted your friends or not, he wanted you, and lucky for him, you wanted him as well. Also lucky for him, you trusted him with everything you had.

"Si? (Yes?)" He asked, still pressing gentle kisses against your inner thighs, right next to your pulsing core, he wouldn't admit it, but the smell of your arousal was making it hard to focus on teasing you. Between the adrenaline of the hunt and your dripping heat, all he wanted to do was bury himself balls deep and fuck you until you were screaming his name.

"Marko, please" you whimpered, trying to lift your core to his mouth, but a harsh bite had you mewling.

"Greedy tonight huh?"

"Only for you" you panted

"Only for me?" He laughed, hot breaths fanning over your clothed core and making you groan.

"Should I take pity on you tonight? Let you have what you want?"

"Yes! Please Marko" you pleaded, gripping the beam under you and leaning up to look at him.

"Well…Since you asked nicely" he smiled, pulling your panties to the side and licking a long stripe along your heat.

"Fuck!" You moaned, head falling back to the beam.

"We have to be quiet, or someone might catch us again" he laughed, no doubt referring to not only the ferris wheel, but also the time the two of you had been caught going at it in one of the beach changing tents. You were sure you were a sight for the very pissed security guard, your pants bunched around your ankle, your other wrapped around Marko's waist as he held it up, his own pants around his knees while he didn't even bother to stop, his face buried in your neck as he groaned about how tight you were. Marko wasn't necessarily into exhibitionism, he didn't want anyone to see you that way but him, but God did he love it when he knew you were loud enough for other people to hear what he was doing to you. Even more when you would return to the crowd, being stared at as he just threw his arm around you, a very proud smirk on his face. That being said, he also loved to tease you about how loud you could get at times…like right now as he ate you out like a man starved, his hands holding your legs open as he buried his face in you, tongue going as deep as it could and pulling a moan from you, before circling your clit. His finger replaced his tongue a moment later as he sucked your clit, tongue flicking over it quickly, a move he knew brought you shooting to your peak. His other hand slid up, hand gliding under your shirt and bra to grasp your breast, pinching the hardened bud in just the way he knew that heightened your pleasure. Your hand quickly covered your mouth when his tongue replaced his finger again, throwing your leg over his shoulder as he went to town. If there was one thing that shocked you about Marko (aside from finding out what he was) it was how much he enjoyed going down on you. Most guys avoided it at all cost and yet wanted you to offer it to them, but not Marko. The first time you two ever did anything together he brought you to a blinding finish twice with his mouth and fingers alone, stating that he could eat you forever, a laughable statement now that you know how true it actually is. A harsh suck on your clit brought you back to reality, as you almost screamed into your hand, your eyes darting down to meet almost black, but you could see the gold beginning to seep through, something he no longer hid away as he took his pleasure in you, now that you knew what he was there was no need to hide the fact that doing this to you, with you, always brought his more feral side out.

"Marko" you pleaded, eyes beginning to water at the intense feeling in your gut, meeting his gaze didn't help, you always felt like he was devouring you completely, body, mind, and soul when he looked at you like that.

"Hai intenzione di finire per me amore? (Are you going to finish for me love?)" He all but growled out, hot breaths fanning your core. He knew you didn't understand him, but he also knew you loved it when he spoke his mother tongue. You had let that secret out one night while things were getting hot and heavy and he slipped into the language.

"Shit!" You groaned when he entered two fingers into you, pumping quickly. Truth be told he didn't know how much longer he could wait, tonight he was more wound up than usual.

"Talk to me baby" he cooed, inserting a third finger and watching as you had to grab a hold of the beam to keep your balance, your hips lifting to meet his fingers.

"Sempre così pronto per me (always so ready for me)" he panted, watching your heat swallow his fingers again and again.

"Fuck! Marko please" you begged, unsure of what you were even begging for at this point, all you knew was that the coil in your stomach was winding tighter and only Marko could make it snap. And he did know that, so in an instant his lips had reattached to your mound, tongue movie along it while his fingers worked you open for him and his other hand grasped your breast, claws slightly extending and scratching your skin as he began to lose himself, the scent of you, the taste of you, the sounds of your racing heart and pumping blood mixing with the sweet sounds of your moans was making him dizzy and he knew he needed to get you across your finish line, to see that look of pure ecstasy cross your face. He watched you climb, your hand reaching out to grab his arm that had abandoned your breast, coming to hold your waist as you began to lose your balance on the beam, your head tilted back as silent screams left you, your legs coming up, body winding tight. With one last flick of his tongue he quickly moved forward, sealing his lips against your and swallowing the scream that ripped from your throat as he pushed you over the edge, his fingers now slowing as he held you close,his lips sucking dark spots on your neck as he pushed you through your overstimulation and into another orgasm, this one causing you to gush even more around his fingers and he knew you were ready. He watched you slowly catch your breath as you blinked, your brain fuzzy from the pleasure but aware of the sound of him undoing his pants and shuffling them around his thighs, his hands coming to wrap your legs around his thin waist before he leaned over you, pulling down your shirt enough for him to place kisses along your chest as he slowly pushed in, a groan leaving him immediately.

"Così stretto (so tight)" he panted, hands grabbing your waist as he started moving, and it didn't take long for him to find that perfect speed that had the both of you trying to muffle your moans.

"Così buono, Cazzo! Così fottutamente bene (So good, Fuck! So fucking good)" he whimpered into your neck, his breaths coming out quicker as he started to lose himself.

"Voglio solo restare qui per sempre (I just want to stay here forever)" he moaned, breath fanning against your heated skin.

"S-Shit! Marko" you whined, teeth digging into your lip as you tried to be quiet, though the wet sound of skin on skin was beginning to grow louder.

"amo quando mi chiami, pregami per questo, urla per me…Io e solo io…Solo io (I love when you call me, beg me for this, yell for me…me and only me…Only me)" He panted, voice breaking as he moaned against your skin, nails digging into your thighs where he was now holding like his life depended on it as he drove into you, forehead pressed against your chest as he whimpered, his body winding tighter while yours grew tighter around him.

"Non durerò amore mio (I won't last my love)" he groaned, head lifting to meet your gaze but seeing your head thrown back, hair a mess from gliding back and forth along the beam, neck and chest flushed and on full display, your humming heartbeat tempting him. He watched as your back bowed when he hit that spot inside you, your breasts pressing up to him while he cursed once more at the sight. His hips stilling only for a moment so he could push your shirt up over your breasts, his hands returning to his own shirt and ripping it open. He'd deal with you scolding him for ruining another shirt later, right now he just needed to feel your skin against his. His movement returned just as you began whimpering, your hands reaching out for him and coming in contact with his now bare front. Your eyes opened and looked at him, his own eyes focused on you as his chest heaved, his stomach muscles moving and contacting with every thrust of his hips. You would scold him about ruining another shirt later, but right now all you could focus on was grabbing him and pulling him closer. Both of you sighing as your chests meet, the feeling on his cooler skin helping you cool down, while the feeling of your racing heart against his chest was only heating him up more.

"ho bisogno che tu finisca…perché non so quanto resisterò (I need you to finish..because I don't know how long I'll last)" he moaned against your neck, his hands lifting your legs higher while yours buried themselves in his hair, tugging at the curls and listening as he growled, his hips stuttering as he tried to hold out.

"Finisci con me,fammi sentire il tuo amore (Finish with me, let me feel your love)" he spoke, his hips picking up speed and strength, his sign that he was on the edge.

"Marko! Fuck baby I'm, Fuck!"

"Urla per me! Grido! Voglio che tutti sappiano che sei mio…Solo mio (Yell for me! Scream! I want everyone to know that you are mine…Only mine)"

"Shit! Marko I'm gonna cum! I'm! FUCK!" You yelled as he latched onto your neck, his fangs sinking in as he fed from you, his own hips stuttering as your heat tightened around him, refusing to let him go, so instead his body decided to let go. Lips red from the blood that now dripped down his chin as his head tilted upwards, eyes rolling back as his mouth opened, and a sudden shout left him while his hips slammed forwards repeatedly before stilling, his warmth painting your walls and filling you. After a moment both of you slowly drifted back down to reality while he leaned forward, lips gently kissing the bite mark as he closed it before nuzzling into your neck. More foreign words were softly spoken in your ear as Marko came down from his high, something that you had found out tends to happen every time. When he would lose himself in pleasure he completely forgot how to speak English, and even after it would take him a moment to resort back to it, you told him one day you wanted to learn Italian so that he didn't have to worry about you not understanding him. Though the look on his face was of both joy and embarrassment, and right now you wondered what sort of love stricken words was he softly breathing against your skin that he would normally be too embarrassed by.

"Il mio bellissimo amore (my beautiful love)" he breathed, kissing your cheek before lifting himself up and hovering over you, the feeling of him still inside you had the both of you moaning. You watched as he pulled out, your mixed finished slowly dripping onto the beams, and you watched as a shit eating grin spread across his face before he slipped his fingers inside, causing you to try to move away due to the sensitivity. But he held you with one hand, reassuring you as he pulled your combined spend from your abused hole. When he felt he had gotten enough he released you, sucking his fingers clean while looking down at the floor far beneath.

"What was that for?" You groaned.

"Christening the place" he smirked, popping his now clean fingers out of his mouth.

"There was enough to even drop down to the bottom" he laughed as you covered your face.

"Oh my God you are the worst" you groaned.

"Awe you know you love me" he teased while pulling your hands away.

"You better be glad I do" you smiled at him, watching as he leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss, a kiss that would have gotten heated had it not been for the sound of footsteps entering the area. Within a second Marko had his pants up, and your shirt righted before he picked you up and jumped out of the opposite side of the curtain just as a flashlight showed where you two had been. You listened as the man began to complain loudly about the "Godless couples who will Fuck anywhere" while Marko floated you both safely to the ground before grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the beach.

"That was way too close"

"At least they didn't catch us this time"

"Marko!"

"What?"

"Not funny" you stated, but still couldn't help but laugh.

"Where is the fun if there isn't a little risk" he smiled, still pulling you along.

"Where are we going anyways?"

"A spot I found on the beach yesterday"

"...Marko you're not suggesting"

"The night is still young baby, and I'm far from done with you"

Taglist

@6lostgirl6

@solobagginses

@burnbookarilostgirl16

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Oh, Lonely Bones, Have You Forgotten? Chapter One

First DBDA multichapter, yay! let's hope I finish it 😅 Nah should be fine, I already know exactly what happens, just gotta get it on the page! The ending will be happy, but there WILL be angst along the way, please heed the tags/warnings!

WARNINGS: This fic references or directly addresses traumas from the characters' pasts. So that's of course bullying, abuse, homophobia, hate crimes, death etc. There's also a very, very brief reference to a possibly creepy teacher eyeing up Edwin (more on that in the end notes), but nothing comes of it, it's just part of the tapestry of his shitty school experiences. Death, loneliness, abandonment, touch starvation, along with morbid things like burials and bodies and bones are core themes of this fic. The ending will be happy eventually but we WILL have a sad ride to get there. So please be aware of that before reading.

I'd like to shout out my bestie kieren-fucking-walker/electricteatime for the absolutely banger headcanon about Charles sometimes manifesting his trauma by getting really cold/his breath misting. It's such a visually cool and emotionally rich idea and the show SHOULD have done it. Chapter one is 6.6k. Chapters 2/3 coming soon (hopefully). Also on Ao3 (need to be signed in to read)

~

“I don’t like this, mate,” Charles muttered.

“No,” Edwin agreed, gravely. “Nor do I.”

Frankly, taking this case was probably an unwise decision. The meagre payment offered by the sickly-looking ghost of the old groundskeeper would fall far, far short of the emotional cost of the expedition. And yet when Edwin had looked over to Charles and met his eyes, there had been no doubt, no hesitation. Perhaps it was the notion of unfinished business; that mysterious force that compelled ghosts to sites of personal trauma as sirens compelled sailors to the unforgiving rocks. Perhaps they were both mere gluttons for punishment.

Either way, they were here now. It was with heavy hearts and wary eyes that on the evening of June twenty-sixth, Edwin and Charles – along with Crystal – set foot once more on the grounds of St. Hilarion's School for Boys.

"So what are we looking for, exactly?" asked Crystal, ever practical. She'd been inordinately serious today, clear-headed and straightforward. Taking pains to rein in her more combustible tendencies. She'd also been casting worried glances at him and Charles all day. Edwin was trying to take the gesture in the spirit in which it was intended. Even if it did make him feel like a mad old maid, half-expected to succumb to hysterics at the drop of a hat.

"We've no way to know for sure," said Edwin. His eyes flickered to the imposing main doors, then upwards, scanning each storey window by window. It was well past lights out, but a single lamp glowed through from the third floor, east wing. The dorms. Most likely the night steward, on the listen for boys up and about and causing mischief. In Edwin's short and tragic experience, such staff were not the most effective of deterrents. Still, best avoided. They didn't want to call attention to themselves.

He flipped to his notes from their client interview. "The groundskeeper reported a low, continuous droning sound, along with unease, malaise, and a sense of being... 'called' to."

"Any words? Phrases?" asked Charles. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet like a boxer. His tension was audible as well as visible – Edwin could hear the subtle clenching of his jaw where it clipped his words. "No spooky voices whispering 'come to the cellar?'"

"No, nothing so helpful as that, I'm afraid."

"So what's the plan?"

"We begin searching for causes or disturbances in a methodical fashion," said Edwin, putting his notebook away. "I suggest we leave bedrooms and dormitories for last, to minimise the risk of interruptions. Crystal, you'd best wait outside until we call you. If anyone wakes you're more likely to be seen; not to mention liable to stand out. This is a boys' school, after all."

Crystal looked unhappy about it, but for once didn't rush to argue his logic. "I don't know. Are you guys gonna be... you know...?"

"We'll be fine, Crys," said Charles, giving her a strained smile and a pat on the shoulder. "Got each other, don't we?"

"Yeah – in the place you both got killed," she said. "You really shouldn't be back here."

Edwin rather agreed with her. And yet, undeniably, he still felt that strange, morbid draw that had coaxed him into accepting the case. There was a mystery afoot, and he and Charles would answer the call. "We'll be quite alright, I'm sure. With any luck, this will be a flying visit. Back in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Charles, have you the torches?"

"Yeah, just a tick." Charles crouched down and riffled through his backpack, disappearing up to the shoulder in its daunting expanse. "Better be careful with them, eh? Try not to flash 'em about too much, make anyone come looking."

"Agreed. For empty rooms only – we'll switch them off at the first sign of footsteps."

"Here we go." Charles handed the two stout electric torches up to Edwin. "Oh! Got something else, too." He dove back in, and re-emerged holding three black plastic blocks. He passed one each to Edwin and Crystal with a grin. "So we can stay in touch with Crystal – and each other, 'case we get split up."

Edwin sincerely hoped such a thing wouldn't come to pass. But he inspected the device with curiosity, its buttons and mesh panel and its little protruding antenna. "Oh. This is one of those... portable radio contraptions."

"Walkie talkies," Charles corrected. He held down the yellow button on his device and a babble of static erupted from the speaker. "Hold the button to talk, yeah?" His voice rattled out through Edwin and Crystal's handsets.

"We gotta get you guys cellphones," Crystal muttered.

"Excellent idea, Charles," said Edwin, ignoring her comment. "But I'd advise against using these except in cases of emergency. The noise could alert people to our presence."

Charles gave a lax salute, and tucked his handset into his coat.

"I really don't like you guys going in there alone," said Crystal, crossing her arms.

"I know," said Charles. "But you get it, yeah?"

A moment of tense silence passed between the three of them; the school looming at their back like a slumbering monster. Inside that building lay several dorms full of teenage boys. Different boys than from Charles and Edwin's times, but alike in breeding, in privilege and temperament. Those boys had tormented Edwin for his mannerisms, and beaten Charles to death for daring to do the right thing – undoubtedly, his parentage had also factored into their violent recourse.

None of them stated their precise fears out loud. The fear of what could transpire if a lone, dark-skinned teenage girl were to find herself in the belly of this particular beast in the dead of night. Even one with considerable psychic powers and two ghost bodyguards at her disposal. No one said a word, but the possibilities hung over their heads like a dark cloud nonetheless.

Perhaps it was an ungenerous thought, to imagine a school full of modern boys could devolve so abruptly into The Lord of the Flies. But Edwin wasn't prepared to roll those dice with his friend's safety. Against his own better judgement, he'd grown... fond of Crystal Palace. He shouldn't like to see her hurt, or killed. In fact, at the risk of sounding overly sentimental, he'd be most perturbed by such a thing.

Crystal sighed. "Yeah. Fine. I get it. Just..." She lurched forward and wrapped her arms around Charles, tightly. "Be careful. Okay?"

"I'm always careful!" he lied, a smile in his voice. It didn't match his face which, thankfully, was hidden from her view in her hair. But Edwin could see it; Charles' careful mask, knocked askew.

He averted his eyes.

Crystal snorted. "Great. Thanks. Makes me feel way better." She broke away from Charles and looked at Edwin, who took a reflexive step back. "I know, I know – no hugs," she said with a roll of her eyes. She compromised by giving his upper arm a firm squeeze instead. "Don't die. Again."

"We'll do our level best," said Edwin, patting the back of her hand briskly. "Now, we really must away – while we have the night on our side."

"There's some pretty dense trees off that way," said Crystal, gesturing. "I'm gonna wait there, should be easy to stay out of sight – hopefully it's close enough to stay in walkie range."

Charles stiffened. "The trees... near the lake?"

"Uh. Yeah, why?"

Edwin watched him closely.

Charles shook his head. "Nah, don't matter. Just – stay safe, yeah?"

"You too." She looked between them. "Hey... look after each other. Okay?"

Charles glanced at Edwin, and his posture softened. "Yeah," he said, with the shadow of a gentle smile. "Always do."

That assurance, at least, was not a lie.

~

"Charles, we're wasting time," Edwin hissed. Honestly – five minutes into their investigation and they hadn't even made it inside the building, yet! "We can simply walk through this door and bypass the lock altogether."

Charles didn't spare him a glance, preoccupied as he was squatting on the doorstep with his lockpicks across his knee. He'd been faffing with the old iron lock on the main doors to no avail for some time. "Yeah, but what if we've gotta call Crystal in to help us out right quick? Dunno if her psychic powers stretch to door hypnotism." He tossed Edwin a cheeky grin. "Only polite to open doors for ladies, innit?"

Edwin, unable to argue the logic or the etiquette, settled for squeezing his fists together and lurking discontentedly. So far he'd not heard the droning the groundskeeper had spoken of, nor felt any ominous supernatural feelings. At least, he assumed he hadn't. But it was a mite hard to focus on anything besides his own anxiety at being back in this place after so many years. Hard to differentiate between personal discomfort and something more sinister.

The lock gave a promising click, and Charles grinned. "Abracadabra."

Edwin stopped his hand when it went to turn the handle. "Best not. We mustn’t announce ourselves."

"Yeah. Yeah, good point." Charles straightened up, tucking his lockpicks away. "So. Hop right on through, then?"

"Indeed."

Charles' jaw gave a nervous tic. "...On three?"

"...Yes. yes, on three." Edwin braced himself. "One..."

"Two..." said Charles, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Three!"

Their voices joined on the final count; and together they stepped through the ancient, unyielding oak, and into the hall within.

"Oh," Edwin exhaled, taking in the great hall with darting eyes.

"Huh," said Charles, squinting. "Thought it would look... different."

"You took the words right out of my mouth."

The entry hall had changed very little from Edwin's day – and by extension Charles'. Evidently, money and care had been put into the upkeep of the place; Edwin had spotted a plaque on the outside labelling it a registered building. Biggest change to speak of was the burgundy carpet now covering the floor; to protect the old boards from the footfall of thundering teenage boys, no doubt. Other changes were limited to minor modern conveniences. A plastic hand sanitiser dispenser beside the door. A corkboard papered over with glossy flyers for local sports and after school clubs. They surely must have updated the lighting, as well, but he and Charles weren't to benefit at this time for obvious reasons.

The familiarity was unsettling, to say the least. Like stepping back through the decades, into a time he'd gladly leave behind for good. Edwin cleared his throat, and straightened his jacket. "Well. I suppose we must set to. We're wasting the night."

"Where d'you wanna start?"

Edwin pulled out his notebook. He had notes and sketches in there based upon the floor plan that Crystal had sourced via her miraculous internet. Though he suspected he wouldn't need them. Already the sprawling skeleton of this old haunt was reassembling itself in his mind's eye. "It is as I said. We'll scour the lower levels, then work our way up." He furrowed his brow. "Strictly speaking, we should have started lower. This is the first floor, thanks to the stairs outside the main doors – the ground floor is below us, but it's mostly utilities. Kitchens, laundry, storage. Still, we shouldn't rule out that something of import could be down there."

"Easily solved." Charles got down on his knee and stooped, until he could press his forehead to the floor. Then he kept pressing forward, bent double with his backside in the air, and his incorporeal head bobbed through the carpet. Like an ostrich in the sand.

"Laundry room," he called, voice muffled by carpet and floorboards. "No one there. Should be safe to drop right through."

With a fond smile at Charles' bobbing back end, Edwin steepled his fingers. "A quick detour, then," he said, and hopped neatly through the floor and into the room below.

~

An unnecessary detour, as it turned out. But attention to detail was a key part of any detective's toolbox. After scouring the warren of utilities, they rejoined the first floor via a small service staircase between the kitchen and the mess hall.

"Ugh," said Charles, wrinkling his nose as he investigated the new (since Edwin's time) glass-fronted serving station. "Can't believe the last thing I ever ate was school dinner. Didn't even finish it, it was that rank.

Edwin blinked at him, pausing in his inspection of the head table. "You were permitted to leave food on your plate? They excused you?"

"...I mean. Yeah?"

"Goodness," Edwin chuckled, shaking his head. "What a liberal time you lived in."

"Not that liberal, mate. Got beaten to death, remember?"

Edwin smirked. "Perhaps if you'd been disallowed from leaving until you'd cleared your plate, you might not have found yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time."

His deadpan achieved the desired effect. Charles laughed, a bright spot in the dreary gloom. "Right. Brills. Bob back in time and tell myself to choke down the sweetcorn, then."

"Wise course of action."

"Right." Charles lifted the lid of a pot that someone had forgotten to clear away, and mock-gagged. "Nope. Not worth it. I'll take death, cheers."

~

The dining hall turned up nothing. Nor did any of the offices, lounges and staff rooms. Their exploration of the first floor came and went with no discoveries or fanfare, and soon it came time to move on. To the central staircase, and the second floor where the majority of the classrooms presided.

Edwin felt his apprehension mounting with every step. Two floors of fruitless searching was starting to irk and unsettle him. He longed for something decisive; a supernatural feeling, an apparition, even a blood-curdling scream. It felt worse to worry incessantly with no stimulus, unable to prove there was anything amiss outside of his own childish fears.

"They've replaced the blackboards," Edwin commented upon entering the first room. Craving a discovery, a distraction, anything.

"Oh. Yeah, I remember – they started switching them out my last year here. Headmaster was mad about these shiny new things. Probably got whiteboards in every room, now." Charles squinted at the plastic panel with its chunky black frame. "These ones look different to what I remember, mind."

"What do you write on them with?"

"Pens. Special pens, like."

"Hm. Probably for the best. Chalk dust was bothersome. I always developed the most wretched cough when it was my turn to beat the erasers." Edwin found the pens attached to the board and picked one up. "Let's see. No lid..." He tried an experimental scribble. "And not a drop of ink. Dry as a bone." He eyed the branding on the whiteboard's frame, sceptical. "Smart Board, indeed."

"Don't think there's anything in here. Unless we're looking for something sucks the ink out of whiteboard markers." Charles took the pen from Edwin's hand, turning it over and inspecting it. "What d'you think? Some sort of ink vampire?" he said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Don't see any fang punctures."

"I hardly think an ink vampire is what we're looking for," said Edwin, activating his torch and sweeping it in a wide arc. The abandoned classroom came into hazy, yellow-tinged relief under his beam. This had once been his English room, many decades ago. Save for the impractical board, it remained largely unchanged – although the wooden chairs had been replaced with ones of metal and plastic. The bookshelves at the back of the room remained in situ; the thick, leather-bound volumes of Edwin's time supplanted by new editions with glossy cardboard covers.

Edwin hadn't much cared for his English lessons. He was good at them, of course, and he loved reading. Since escaping hell, he'd revisited a number of the books he'd once studied. But his heart had always sunk whenever he was called on to stand before the board and read aloud for the class. The snickers and guffaws of the other boys, the mean-spirited whispers and unsubtle name-calling. The nancy boy's, the Mary Ann's, and far worse when teacher's back was turned. God forbid he was asked to read a sonnet.

The sting of the memory hadn't faded with time, but had taken on some light and shade in the wake of his travails in hell. In the jeering blur of faces, he could imagine Simon's swimming into focus. Was that mockery in his eyes, or pity? Recognition? And was he really the only one? The only other boy in that room who'd wanted to reach out to Edwin, and felt compelled to push him away instead?

How many of them had passed through this room, like living ghosts, lost to time and to shame?

A cold, iron fist of grief clutched him by the throat. So tangible it damn near bowled him over. He caught himself on a desk, lest he lose his grip on the physical plain and plummet through the very floor.

"Edwin?!" Charles was beside him in an instant, hand on Edwin's back. "Edwin, what's the matter?"

Edwin screwed his eyes shut, shaking his head. Trying in vain to dislodge the ice that had seized upon his very soul, but it held him fast. He shivered, and Charles rubbed his back as if Edwin could feel it; as if he could coax the warmth back into a dead, frozen thing.

"There's... there's something wrong," Edwin bit out – alarmed at the resistance he faced. It felt like he had to force the words through chattering teeth. "Do you feel it?"

Charles hesitated, before exhaling a shuddering breath. "Thought it was just me," he said quietly. "Y'know. How I get."

Ghosts were beings of trauma – and dying of hypothermia was fairly traumatic, to say the least. Charles couldn't feel warmth anymore, but he could certainly feel cold; and in times of distress it seemed to shroud him, clouding his speech in icy vapour.

A small pang of guilt pierced Edwin like a thorn; perhaps Charles had already been feeling the chill for some time, and hadn't deemed it worth a mention.

"No. No, it's not just you," said Edwin, reaching back to pat Charles on the arm with a hand that felt like a block of ice. "It's not just you at all."

Charles gave a lopsided, flimsy smile. "Dead comforting, mate. Come on, let's get you up. There we go."

With Charles' support, Edwin managed to regain his footing, but the feeling remained. It had settled upon his essence like a dense snowfall; all-shrouding, all-permeating. Chilling him to the figurative marrow.

"D'you think this is it? What that bloke was on about?" asked Charles, jerking his shoulders, rubbing his arms.

"Struggling to see what else it could be. Although he said nothing about a sense of cold..." Edwin rubbed his head, trying to think past the immediate, intense discomfort. An image came to mind, unbidden, of Niko across from him at a café table. The drinking straw dropping from her lips, her entire face crumpling as she clutched her head and cried out "brain freeze!". Had he any inkling of how distressing the sensation was, he might've said something more consolatory than he had at the time.

The secondary knife of grief at recalling her face twisted itself deep in his back, pressing so hard on his shoulders his knees nearly buckled.

"Well," he said, strained. "At least we know we're not on a wild goose chase. There's definitely something here." He rubbed his gloved hands together. A peculiarly vivid, instinctual muscle memory, leftover from the days when cold wasn't a distant memory. "We must continue the search. Let us check the desks while we're in here."

Charles gave a sharp nod, his face drawn, the first phantom wisps of breath creeping from his lips. Normally, Edwin would have offered his own coat to fend off the psychic, psychosomatic chill by now. But with Edwin likewise affected, it felt like any attempt to shrug out of the garment would be met by cracking and splintering. Spectral wool rendered asunder by devouring ice. For the first time, they were each as incapacitated as the other. Not a drop of warmth between their two dead, insubstantial forms to make a dent in the frost.

But their hands found one another, nonetheless. And it did make him feel better, warmer, even only infinitesimally.

There was something to be said for the placebo effect.

~

It was a long shot, hoping they might happen across some kind of obvious cursed artefact or hex doll in a pupil's desk in the first classroom they searched. Still, best to leave no stone unturned. In they end they had to concede that whatever it was they were looking for, they weren't going to find it in the English room.

They passed through the other classrooms in a similar fashion. Each presenting them with no evidence, but an abundance of unwelcome memories. The maths room, where Edwin had acquired a small scar on his jaw from a compass flung in his direction. The geography room, where he'd once been soundly caned for a book he'd 'defaced' – while the real culprits got off scot-free, of course. The old history study, where he'd often sought refuge of an evening. Where he'd tried to focus on the kindliness of the professor; and not on the unreadable, uncomfortable way he would sometimes sit and watch Edwin from across the room. Like he knew something about him. Like he had half a mind to bid him come closer.

The feeling, such as it was, seemed to bear down on them with every room checked, every memory unearthed. By the time they reached the stairs to the third floor, they were both near panting from exertion; wading through the empty corridors with all the ease of stomping through snow drifts.

"If it isn't even down here, what's it gonna be like when we're closer?" asked Charles, blowing on his hands and stomping his feet. He looked pale and peaky, his words and breaths escaping in ragged puffs of phantom condensation.

Edwin was faring no better. He felt tight in the chest, frayed in the nerves. The chill had penetrated so very deep, he had begun to hear it; like a cutting wind, like ice creaking under foot. Like a crackling, throbbing drone in the back of his consciousness.

There were two more floors of this wretched place left to investigate, and already he felt crushed under the avalanche of ill feeling and dreadful recollections. He was tired of dredging up things he'd worked for decades to put behind him. Tired of wading through this viscous mire of magic and memory. He wanted to leave. He wanted to be back at the agency, where it was calm and safe and the walls were imbued with a kinder history. He wanted to find whatever was causing this disturbance at once, and put this damnable case behind them!

He about-turned to face the end of the corridor – and there was the mirror. An ancient thing, ornate frame carved from finest mahogany. He remembered it well. A hundred years it must have stood there. More than a hundred – it had already been old in Edwin's time. It had survived well, save for a small patch of woodworm damage in the lower right corner. Edwin used to stand in front of it, sometimes, when the other boys were outside shooting clay pigeons or playing rugby. Used to gaze, forlorn, at his own reflection; wondering if there was a way to be anything but what he was.

There was no reflection now, of course. He'd seen his reflection only once in the last thirty-odd years; on his return to hell, his introduction to Lady Despair. He'd seen himself a hundred years on from this mirror, marred by filth and bloody gouges. So different to how he remembered. And yet still, always and forever, the same frightened little boy. Trapped and miserable; searching for a way out.

Don't... Don't...

A whisper on the gale, barely intelligible as words. Was the call coming from himself? Or from the thing they sought? It was impossible to know, but whatever it was, it was crying from the back of his soul. Clawing out, grasping for him with icy fingers of terror and desolation.

"Edwin?"

Charles' voice seemed to fade behind the whisper. Behind the steadily growing cacophony of creaking wood and shuddering glass. If this was real after all, and not just a trick of the mind, then this thing, whatever it was, could bring the entire blasted building tumbling down.

Edwin held his hand out to the mirror, no coherent thought behind the action. It was where he needed to be. Reaching out, reaching in, making contact with the space behind and between.

"Take me," he breathed. "Take me to the root of this."

"Edwin," Charles' voice came from far away. "Edwin, stop! You dunno what you're bloody walking into!"

No. He didn't know. But he needed to. He needed to find the cause, the catalyst, the beating heart under the floorboards. Needed to find the source of that cry – needed to know that it was external, and not a result of his own mind coming undone in this foul place. He reached to the mirror, through the mirror. Rigid glass parted for his fingers with a gentle ripple; the softly broken surface of a still pond. Calm waters, a silky embrace.

And then it gripped him tight, and dragged him under.

~

He was distantly aware of Charles' panicked cries, but they were cut off in moments as the mirror's surface froze over behind him.

Severed from the material plain, Edwin tumbled into freefall. Through that familiar trans-dimensional space behind the reflection; but it didn't feel familiar anymore. It felt tumultuous, violent. He toppled through the in-between space like Alice down the rabbit hole; twisted and turned, tossed from current to savage current. Beaten and battered from all sides by vigorous currents of nothing and everything and not-quite-almost-something. All the time followed by that whispering in his mind, growing in frequency and fervency: Don't. Don't. Don't leave...

And then he was through. Spat out without ceremony, without so much as a by-your-leave. He barely caught himself as he staggered back into the world – a cloud of thick, grey dust erupting under his skittering feet.

"Edwin?!"

Ah, there was Charles again. But he sounded different – smaller, further away, tinny. It took longer than Edwin would care to admit to realise he was hearing him through the walkie-talkie in his pocket.

"Edwin, where the fuck are you? The bloody mirror closed up behind you!"

Edwin fumbled for the device – an uphill struggle, with frozen fingers and a brain yet to cease spinning. It was even colder here, wherever here was. Sub-human temperatures. Had Edwin any blood, it would have flash-frozen in his veins. "Charles," he gasped, as he clumsily depressed the transmit button. "Charles, I'm here. I'm in one piece."

He released the button. Shortly afterwards, a static-clouded echo of Charles' incredulous laughter cut through the speaker.

"Oh, you fucking bastard," Charles blurted, with feeling. "You just went for it! You... you absolute wanker. We're meant to stick together, yeah? Fuck. Tell me where you are. What's it look like?"

"I'm..." Edwin blinked through the dust and dark, eyes adjusting. He didn't want to chance the torch until he knew for sure that he was alone. He squinted at the lines and surfaces illuminated by the feeble moonlight through the dirt-encrusted window. Piles of assorted dross and clutter, caked with dust. Ropes, shelves, broken chairs, ratty sports equipment and bedding...

Oh.

"Oh." He pressed the button. "Charles, I'm – I'm in the attic. The attic."

Charles' short, shocked breath whistled over the line. "Shit. Really?"

"Quite positive." He straightened up from his awkward stance, but couldn't find it in himself to dust off his coat. He moved stiffly, sluggishly; frozen down to his very ectoplasm. "Why would it bring me here...?"

"Edwin? Edwin, listen to me – just stay put, yeah?" Charles implored, his voice punctuated by hollow thumping. No doubt he was throwing himself up the stairs with reckless speed. "I'm coming to get you, I'm gonna leg it, just – don't move!"

"Don't wake up the entire school," Edwin countered, through chattering teeth. He received no response, so he put away the device with shaking hands and took stock of the situation. The space, like much of the school, had barely changed in the years since he'd last seen it. None of the clutter had been removed, only added to. New objects – including the large, cracked mirror Edwin had stumbled through – lay propped against the old. The only distinction between the two lay in the differing thickness of the covering dust.

He was alone, as far as he could tell. No people, no ghosts that he could see. But he didn't feel alone. He felt, in that sinking stone of dread in his stomach, that there was something else here. Something cold and desperate and far, far more lonely than he, and it was crying out to him. Tugging at his sleeve like a child. It wasn't a voice, as such, but it was a plea. It wanted him closer. It wanted him.

Don't move. Charles said not to move.

But his neck nonetheless craned of its own volition. Drawn towards the needling drone that he could neither hear not not hear. The sonorous buzz that cried out look at me look at me see me please see me. It seemed to grab him by the jaw and force his gaze over, over, to that same miserable pile of boxes and blankets where he'd once read Charles Rowland to his rest. No. No, not to the boxes or the blankets.

To the trunk.

He recalled it, dimly. The large black trunk with its brass clasps and corners. He'd perched atop it as he'd read to Charles. It still had his scrounged selection of dusty comics balanced on the lid.

The cry was coming from inside, he was certain of it.

Don't move. Don't move.

The floorboards groaned under his footsteps. He felt heavier, here. More tethered to the physical realm. To the strange call that gripped him by the collar and demanded he come closer, closer still. To the leather and wood under his gloved hands as he ran them over the chest, fingers trembling on the clasps.

Up close, the drone was no longer a drone. Had never been a drone. It was a rattle. A dry, endless rattle.

Wait for Charles. Please. Just wait for Charles.

Brass clicked. Leather creaked.

The trunk opened.

~

"Edwin?!"

Charles barrelled through the wall at speed, eyes wild, cricket bat brandished. He skidded to a halt that was near cartoonish; just before his momentum could carry him right across the small attic space and through the opposite wall.

It might have been amusing – were Edwin not currently beset by the notion that he may never laugh again so long as he continued to exist.

"Edwin?" Charles hollered. "Where are you?"

"I'm here." Edwin's voice was small, fragile despite his best efforts. He was struggling to support it.

Charles spun on his heel and dashed to Edwin's side. "Edwin! You scared the shit out of me! What're you thinking, blinking out on your own like that?!"

"I had a hunch. At least, I think I did..." He looked up – when had he sat down on the floor...? – and drank in the sight of Charles. He looked a bit like he might want to wallop Edwin with his cricket bat. Edwin had never seen a sweeter sight. "I'm sorry. You're right. I wasn't thinking."

Charles huffed, his face softened. "You? Not thinking?" Charles hunkered down beside him, bat across his knees, hand reaching out to palm across Edwin's shoulders. "What's going on with you, mate? I mean, I feel it too, but... it's really getting you, innit?"

"Yes," Edwin exhaled, voice shaking. "And I believe I know why."

"You found something?" Chales leaned in closer. "What? What did you find?"

Edwin closed his eyes, and slowly lifted the lid of the trunk once more. "Myself. In a manner of speaking."

He waited, focusing on the darkness behind his eyelids. He'd already seen the contents of the trunk, and he had no desire to see it again. No matter how mournful its cries to be seen.

A moment of silence passed, and then Charles swore, voice cracking around the expletive. "Oh, fuck. Edwin. Mate, I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

The weight lifted from Edwin's hand as Charles took hold of the lid of the trunk. Edwin gratefully relinquished it.

"Did you know these were up here?" asked Charles. He sounded close to tears, close enough that Edwin almost opened his eyes to look. He couldn't bring himself to, in the end.

Edwin shook his head. "I wasn't even aware they still existed. When that demon took me, it felt like... like my entire being crumbled into nothing. There couldn't have been anything left. I was sure of it..."

"Are we sure they're..." Charles cleared his throat. "Um..."

"Mine? Yes. It's... difficult to explain, but I can... feel them." Edwin held up his hand, and even through his glove he felt an answering prickle in his palm. "Like they're trying to... pull me back in. Like they've been waiting for me."

"Have they just been here all this time?"

"My death was labelled a disappearance. No remains. So... yes. I fear so." He breathed out a ragged sigh, turning his head to Charles before he risked opening his eyes. "Whoever's responsible likely sequestered them up here at the earliest opportunity."

Charle visibly blanched. "So these were here? When we – when I...?"

"When you died. Yes." Out of the corner of his eye, a sickening blot of ivory white. He kept his gaze resolute, fixed on Charles and only Charles. "I suppose they were."

They sat in silence, staring; Edwin at Charles, Charles at the wretched horror they'd unearthed. Edwin found himself, for once, quite speechless. One's thoughts tended to scatter, when faced with the grim sight of one's own withered bones. Tucked out of sight and out of mind, piled into a trunk in an attic and forgotten like a former child's abandoned toys.

Charles sniffed, shrugging his shoulders sharply. "We can't just leave them here," he said, adamant. "We – we need to take them, yeah? Leave 'em on the coppers' doorstep, prove what happened here."

Edwin shook his head. "I disappeared in nineteen sixteen, Charles. Without a trace. The very definition of a cold case. I know there's been significant advancements in the forensic sciences, but even if they were to glean some evidence, what would they compare it to? What in the world is there left to connect these bones to me?"

"They'll find something."

"Next to impossible."

"Don't you want people to know, Edwin?" Charles burst out, turning to look at him at last. There was rage burning in his eyes, his voice straining under the force of it. Not rage at Edwin, he didn't think. Just at the situation, at the unfairness of it. Frustration bubbling over. "You said it yourself; no one ever solved our cases. You could be the first. Show everyone what goes on here, tear this fucking place down."

"And if nothing gets done, Charles?" Edwin snapped back. "We don’t trust the police for good reason. If we hand this new evidence to the them on a silver platter and they bury it again, what then?"

He regretted his outburst in an instant when Charles fell silent. Guilty, grief-stricken. It was a horrible expression on his face, far worse than the anger, and Edwin immediately despised himself for putting it there.

Edwin sighed. He couldn't look Charles in the eye. But he could reach out, tentatively nudge his hand with the back of his own. A little bit of the ugly rift healed when Charles accepted the olive branch without question. He wrapped his fingers around Edwin's and squeezed – for all the good it did them.

"My parents are long gone, Charles," said Edwin, when he'd gathered himself. He kept his eyes trained on Charles' thumb, and the way it traced small circles on the back of Edwin's hand. With their gloves in the way, Edwin could almost pretend that was the only reason he couldn't feel the gesture. "Every relative I ever knew, everyone who could possibly miss me. And the boys who did this..."

He thought of the massacre that preceded his own abduction. Thought of Simon, rotting in that dingy pocket of hell, textbook pages tarred with tears and blood.

Edwin closed his eyes. "Everyone who could've been punished for this has been. I've... I've no more closure to gain."

The truth of the statement came as a surprise even to him, but he couldn't deny it. Everyone who would have cared to know what happened was long, long gone. The best he could hope for was a black mark on the school's record, a curious obituary in the local news.

Charles huffed, but he didn't argue again. "Alright. Alright, mate." He extracted his hand from Edwin's to put it on his neck, just briefly. Just holding his face a moment, almost as he had on that very long staircase some months ago. He cracked a barely-there smile. "It's your bones, innit? Your rules."

Edwin returned it, weak, but grateful. Too exhausted even to think about their proximity, about the intimacy of the gesture. He hadn't a single thought except for how dearly he'd like to sink into it and let Charles carry him, now. Let him take over, just for a little while.

"We can't just leave 'em here, though," said Charles, with a glance daring Edwin to argue.

"No," Edwin agreed, somewhat feeble. He didn't want to look at them; and yet, paradoxically, he'd never wanted to look at anything more. He looked at Charles instead, drawing comfort from his familiar countenance. "No, I suppose we can't."

Charles stared into the trunk a moment longer, a soft, ethereal glow playing on his fine features. Why the bones seemed to be possessed of their own faint light, Edwin couldn't possibly begin to guess. Nor could he guess why they'd altered the spectral temperature so drastically. Or why the chill had alleviated somewhat, the very moment he'd opened the box and looked upon them. Under Charles' gaze, the thaw was even more profound. Edwin could almost be fooled into thinking himself warm.

Upon looking away from the bones, Charles met Edwin's gaze. And he held it, steady as a rock, as he pulled his hand from Edwin's neck and reached into his own coat. A burst of static broke the silence.

"Crystal," said Charles, holding the walkie talkie up to his face. "Crystal, you hear me? Over."

"Yeah, Charles, I hear you," came her voice – the signal was weak, but stable enough. "And you don't actually have to say 'over'."

"What? 'Course I do, that's the whole point of – actually? Doesn't matter right now. Crys, need you to do us a favour. Go home."

"What–?!"

"Back to the office, I mean," he rushed out. "Run back and dig out that other mirror from the spare room. The proper big one, should be buried somewhere. Probably under the surfboards."

"You guys have surfboards...?" She made a noise of indignation. "Wait, and a spare room?! I slept on that stupid couch for two weeks!"

"Have a go at us later, yeah? Just – right now, please, go dig it out, and put it in the office, alright? Please, Crys." He scanned the trunk with his eyes. "Somewhere with lots of space in front."

"Ugh, fine. But Charles – what's going on?"

"We found what we were looking for." He closed his eyes, and then the trunk – and Edwin wondered if he, too, could hear the plaintive cry in the back of his mind when he fastened the clasps, committing the bones once more to darkness. "And we've got something important to shift. Over and out."

~

Reeeaaally hope you liked it! Any thoughts? I'm still in the process of pulling together the rest of the story, but I think it'll probs be 3 chapters overall, could really use the motivation to get the tricky second chapter into shape! Some commentary! - not much Crystal in this chapter but I promise more of her in 2/3! - writing them bobbing through floors and things was SO fun, I get that it adds a whole load of special effects they need to budget for but I think the show should have more fun with them walking through walls lmao - the weird history professor is kind of inspired by Hector from the History Boys. Which, if you've never seen it, is a play/movie about a bunch of boys whose favourite teacher is also, well, kind of a fucking creep. It's sort of a dark comedy and honestly just really interesting with the way it depicts this bizarre relationship, the way this person in these teens' lives is objectively doing something Shitty to them but he's still their favourite because he also supports them and inspires them and makes learning fun and, in Posner's case, makes him feel less alone in his queerness. I didn't put him in to imply that in the canon of this fic, Edwin has actually been sexually abused - but the Hector-type character slotted rather neatly into the strange culture of this setting and this era. It just added another little layer of tragedy I couldn't resist. Another queer person in Edwin's immediate vicinity, warped by the repression and loneliness of the time into another potential abuser/antagonist, and unfortunately irresistible despite the red flags. - as mentioned in the intro notes, s/o to Ande for the Charles' misty breath idea! It wasn't originally gonna feature in this fic but then it slotted in so perfectly I had to borrow it! Everyone say thank you Ande for immediately coming up with the most banger headcanons like 5mins into joining the fandom. - I know the popular headcanon is ghosts can't feel stuff but CAN feel other ghosts, and while I generally subscribe to that it doesn't fit this fic for Reasons. Bear with me! - the bones in the attic is from the comics. I haven't actually read the main DBDA comics, but I've read the issue of Sandman they initially appear in. I'm assuming the show isn't doing the bones in the attic, since it looks like Edwin disappeared completely and all the boys who sacrificed him got killed, but it had such delicious angst potential I wanted to do my own take on how it could work in the show and that's basically what kicked off this fic! The ideas have been developing as I write though and the shape has changed a lot from my initial idea! Anyway, that's enough out of me, I've babbled enough today 😅 But I hope you liked this, please consider dropping us a comment if you did! Or come talk to m, honestly, I'm just excited about these guys and wanna yap xD Hopefully get the next chapter out in the next couple of weeks or so, but chapter 2 is probs gonna be the most awkward one bc it's the one where my ideas need to most work to string together! Until next time! 💛

[atlas-library]

Giggling and kicking my feet and twirling my hair and going "oh my gawd" every time I re-read the nsfw alphabet that you did of toge your brain is so huge💞 gigantic even. You said you don't think he talks during those times (understandable), but do you think he doesn't even like...say tuna? If he has to say something (best dirty talk ever)? Actually, do you think he ever has to fight off the urge to actually speak and say something during sex, and then gets like. Upset at himself inside?

Okay so first of all, I'm gonna cry, this is the sweetest comment ever omg 🥹🥹 I haven't given up on this blog btw, I haven't posted in a while but I just got sick + I have a new job starting soon + somehow the creative juice got sucked out of me, BUT I'M STILL HERE AND THIS COMMENT!!! IT GIVES ME MORE REASONS TO KEEP PESTERING Y'ALL!!! 😭😭😭 so yeah tysm for your comment it just made my night 🥹🥹💗💗

Okay, regarding your questions (nsfw, so find it under the cut!!)

I actually think he would use some rice-ingredient words!

In-between the moans and whimpers, the pants and grunts coming from you both, he would probably ask how you're doing— A small "Mustard leaf?", or even some "Tuna tuna!" when he feels you drift away. And if you ask him how he's holding up, he'd try to give you a shaky "S-salmon..!" so you keep going.

I just think overall he tries to keep quiet, mostly because of how insatiable he is and thus how long sessions can be— If it's his first or second orgasm, he's not necessarily going to slip out. He has enough control to remember he can't fully let go. The more you go on, though... well, you both remember the time when he screamed of pleasure— That was wild, even for him. Sometimes you leave him a crying mess, and all you can do is watch as he pants and lets out unintelligible whimpers.

I also definitely think he would try to say your name. I headcanon Toge with a speech impediment, mainly him stuttering and stammering because he doesn't often get to pronounce new words; he knows his commands by heart, as well as Yuuta's name (and even then, he would pronounce it "Yuuda" at first). However, I think he'd try very hard to pronounce everyone else's names correctly, especially if he got caught doing it and basically got the equivalent of a pat on the head. For his significant other, it's clear he'd try his hardest: he can't tell you how important you are to him, so he'll try to do something simple yet very meaningful for the both of you. He'll try to pronounce your name, without stuttering— And it might slip out during sex.

Whenever he uses it, even though it doesn't seem to affect him, it does affect you: you can't say if it's actual cursed energy or simply your feelings for him, but you find yourself staring at him, admiring his features and drinking any sound leaking from his lips.

🍵 Okay, let's take a breather now. 🍵

...

🍵 Breathe in.. breathe out. 🍵

About your last question— Toge's curse is being a passionate soul forced to silence. He hides it well, but he feels a lot; he's a control freak, similar to Maki (even though they'd never admit it), because that's how he hurts the least amount of people. Before the school, before Gojo, before Panda (his first friend)— Toge was alone. He wouldn't say a word, hands would be shoved against his mouth if he dared breathe too loud. The only person who never shushed him nor feared him ended up being cursed by him— Clearly, everyone's better off far away from him.

The problem is, Toge is a lover. I'm an Inuokko shipper first and foremost so this might be where this idea comes from, but, even platonically, I think Toge would be the one to relate most to Rika. They're like two sides of the same coin when it comes to love. @gelatosushix made a wonderful post about it, so I won't dive too deep into this, but basically: Rika kills when she loves, but Toge dies when he loves.

A common mistake would be comparing Toge to a moth, drawn to fire and getting burnt by it. Toge isn't the moth; he's the flame. You're the moth. He's captivating, he has this mysterious aura yet somehow seems like an open book, but only if you ask the right questions— Only if you learn his language (and I'm not talking about rice ingredients). He intoxicates you, draws you in with his gaze (whether a purple wine with violet droplets, or a fiery brown with amber lights).

Then, he pulls his collar down: tattoos, or maybe burn scars, marking his cheeks and tongue as death takes the form of a baby-faced man. He's a weapon, one even Maki can't wield. He's feared. And yet— The raspiness of his voice, the deep accents scratching his throat— They get to you. Stupid moth flying to its death. At least it'll be sweet, you think.

Toge kills for people, because killing goes hand-in-hand with dying in his case. Toge loves by pushing away; that's how it's always been, that's what he's been taught. Yet you're here— You're holding him, stroking his cheek, singing his name, giving yourself to him. It feels right, it feels like everything he's ever wanted, it feels like so little yet so much to him— And he hates it.

You deserve it all and he deserves nothing. You deserve words. Not silly ones, actual words— But he can't say it. He can't stutter that he loves you, because what if? He could curse you. He could ruin your life, and Toge's already ruined so many lives in the past— It weighs on his soul, yet he can endure it; as long as you're not the next accursed.

So he bites down. On your skin, on his hand, on the pillow— Anything, anywhere. He bites down to keep the sounds from coming out. And if you reassure him, tell him that you know, he doesn't need to say it— He starts crying. He hates himself, he hates his curse, he hates the fucking marks on his face.

His hips slam against yours, he grabs at your skin; you're near, he knows it. He knows you by heart, that's the least he can do.

Deeper, deeper, deeper— You reach the stars first, but he follows soon after. And he keeps crying. He cries the rest of the night, even with you holding him and whispering against his lips. He has to grab onto you so he doesn't run to the bathroom to desperatly try and wash his markings off.

Toge is a lover, a passionate soul forbidden from opening his heart; he hates emotional sex because of how much his heart bleeds from it. It ignites his flame, lures you in even more; and when his cries fill the room, when he hugs you tight— It's like you're a butterfly, pinned by the thorns of a rose you were drinking from.

[sebadztian]

Random ask, what do you love about Sebastian and Ciel's dynamic? What made you ship them? What are your fav SebaCiel moments from the series and your fav headcanon for SebaCiel?

I'm so late into sebaciel fandom, just realized that many sebaciel blog are not active anymore. Imagine my surprise when I found your blog and your fics. Thanks for still being here for newbies like me. Now I'm still reading your fic "The Spare" (and it's so good feels like I'm reading canon divergence au novel version, because all of them are in characters) 😄😁🤩

One of my moot, said to me that Sebastian and Ciel's relationship are like father and son. And tell me please ignore sebaciel shipper if I got into the fandom. Now, after I read the manga and watch the anime, I'm confused of those who hate sebaciel shipper and insist that the relationship is just wholesome platonic (including my dear moot)....

Hope you have a wonderful day, @sebadztian ....

Hello! I'm so sorry it has taken me so long to answer your ask!

First of all, welcome to Sebaciel nation!

What I love about Sebaciel dynamic is their power struggle. On one hand, Ciel is the master, but on the other hand, Sebastian is a powerful centuries old demon. Ciel might be the one holding the leash, but at the end of the day, Sebastian is the one who gets to decide how far he could go. He's a very tricky demon who'd try to find loopholes that benefit him or those that allow him to mess with his little lord (like in BoC with the snakes).

But then that changed. Slowly, but surely, he grows to care for Ciel and now he's finding loopholes that would benefit them. He sees himself as Ciel's butler and whatever he does now is for his master's benefits (and his too, of course). However, despite all that, he still continues to challenge Ciel at every turn. It's that complexity of their relationship that makes me ship them. They're constantly trying to out-power the other, but at the end of the day, they're a team.

Another thing that makes me ship them is because they're the only ones who know each other's true self. Ciel knows who, or rather what Sebastian is, and Sebastian knows who Ciel really is. Everyone else saw him either as the weaker, sick little brother to r!Ciel, or they know him as r!Ciel (because he's inpersonating him), but nobody has truly know him as the boy who has grown into his own person. He's not that weak, sickly boy anymore, nor was he the boy that he's trying to impersonate, and Sebastian is the only one who knows him better than anyone.

Headcanons... Funny you ask... I have two kinds of headcanons. If you've read any of my fics, you'd see that my Sebaciels are mostly fluffy & romantic, with some angst here and there, but when it comes to canon, I don't ever see them kissing, let alone saying 'I love you' or anything of that effect. Of course, I'm hoping to see them kiss in the last panel of the manga, but for them to be all lovey dovey? Eh... I don't think they have it in them...

I have some headcanons, but my one consistent headcanon is that they're soulmates and that Sebastian has finally find his match in Ciel. Even from the start, he's acknowledged that.

My favourite Sebaciel moments... BoM might be my favourite arc, but I really love Germany. From how worried Sebastian is about Ciel that he's willing to lower himself and serve Sieglinde, to how devastated he is that Ciel keeps rejecting him, and then he tries to eat Ciel and Ciel chooses him, and how relieved Sebastian looks afterwards, and of course, the part when he admits that he enjoys playing Ciel's butler. And then I love what happens after, ehen they're just hanging out in Ciel's room and teasing each other. This arc is the turning point of their relationship, or at least, these moments are when Sebastian shows us (the readers) that he has changed.

Thank you for your ask!

[rxttenfish]

Asking because I’m extremely curious about this, how did MonProm’s writing get different over time? I remember you saying that the lore and characters feel different, and that it's missing sincere character interactions, too. I know almost nothing about the lore and I’ve only seen a few people mention the characters, so I’d be interested in a rundown of what aspects you think got worse in the series

I wouldn’t mind a very long response since I’m not that active in the fandom, I need to catch up on what happened

sorry for taking so long to answer this! i kinda waffled on it for a long bit, mainly because i started doubting myself again, and whether or not this was me simply overreacting or being tinted by nostalgia or simply being extremely picky and choosy in what i like (the last of which is true, i seldom get into fandoms at all for this reason and stay away from most popular media, but i wasn't sure if it applied here). i've posted about it already, but i'm in the middle of a psychotic episode where i can't feel a lot of pleasure to begin with + most things i do experience ending up solidly in the "very bad" category, so as you can imagine, i really didn't want to mislead and check that i was actually in objective reality.

as it is, this is also when a lot more screenshots started to be posted in the monster prom tag, and that helped me bridge the gap back into returning to the games themselves and feel like i was making a more accurate judgement. if you're one of those people who have been posting screenshots, i sincerely thank you, and i appreciated seeing you in the tag greatly.

for those not in the know — i've been in the monster prom fandom since it first released, prior to even the first additional ending to be added (the "Punch the sun" ending, and i recall the minor fandom drama that happened at that time due to it). my impression of monster prom is very much influenced by this, as what got me into the first game was the fact that the characters genuinely seemed to care for each other and were friends with each other (not merely tolerating each other's presences nor dressing it up, they sincerely thought of each other as friends and were open about that fact), on top of the wide variety of small details and statements that, if taken at face value, could create compounding complexity in the lives of each and every character and had wider implications for their lives.

no, they were not necessarily explored nor even necessarily "real", with so many conflicting events and statements, but i liked this too, because it meant a wider flexibility in what you could imagine, helping to create a more tailored experience for everyone who thought about these characters. this was what i liked about the early fandom too. what was baseline "canon" was so vague and minimal that you could have wildly different interpretations of the same characters' histories and relationships with each other. you would have radically different perspectives on what the world itself looked like, what it was like, that there wasn't really any wrong answers so long as their personalities remained the same. this is where you got the old headcanon of polly and liam being childhood friends who knew each other as humans, or that the world of monster prom was post-apocalypse where humanity itself had gone extinct or only existed in tiny pockets, or my personal headcanon that both monster and human society existed right next to each other and had minimal crossover for petty cultural reasons. this was also prior zoe-as-ro, and there were wildly different interpretations of zoe's personality, with most going for a far more disquieting creepy-cute than the deep nerd we got.

this is why you get stuff like the timeloop theory, where everyone is repeating the same weeks leading up to prom over and over, and are perhaps vaguely aware of it but broadly unconcerned. this is also why it felt like the joke that, the characters were still in high school but were all fully legal adults with most in their 20's, best landed, because it was absurd and strange and didn't quite make sense, but the world itself was inherently absurd and semi-malleable to begin with. realistically, i felt like everyone understood it was making fun of the trope of having adults play teenagers in american sitcoms and wildly casting outside the age range, but for more in-universe explanations it wasn't any different from the way that you would have a large, dramatic ending in which everything changed, but then you'd restart and everyone would be right back at the beginning with nothing different, or even having conflicting events in the same run. it was a dream-logic that fit with the tropes and, thus, diagetically made sense.

to be clear, i don't mind canon having a set, well, canon on which it refers back to itself. i don't mind expanding that or including more things which are set in stone. but there was a perceivable shift in how the games handled this over time, becoming a lot more... bitter, it felt, towards all of these different branching ideas and concepts that, yeah, the people making them knew wouldn't necessarily be "canon" because "canon" already liked to contradict itself so much. most people weren't even sold on any one idea, and there was a much greater sense of enjoying and appreciating all the varying ideas people would come up with even if you personally didn't share them. making the characters be out of character was the real crime, because then it didn't diagetically make sense in the same way, didn't wholly fit.

(again, this is not to say fanon didn't happen and characters weren't smoothed down into a simplified personality that fit these varying fan-interpretations instead of the game itself. certainly damien love/lust was just as bad as it had ever been, and everyone loved to mangle his character into a more stereotypical "bad boy with a heart of hold" all the time. but it certainly felt less set-in-stone about it than it does now, with any deviation from the norm being considered strange and odd and even broadly shunned from the wider fandom.)

all of this is setup for establishing what the writing, lore, and characters felt like in the earlier days. the characters were the strongest part, with their relationships to each other being equally as important. the lore played it fast and loose and was far less interested in setting anything in concrete because that wasn't the important part. the lore wasn't the important part, which was what made it all the more intoxicating to think about, all the more fun to play with.

montrip is easily the biggest offender when it comes to setting everything in all-or-nothing terms and demanding absolutism from the world. broadly i blame the hitchhiker conversations for the worst of it, but i think ultimately the way they handled the entire premise of the game is where this problem stems from. it's not really an exploration in the same sense that you might explore the first game, discovering different perspectives and different people with different relationships to each other. it's an exploration in the sense of a sequel that over-explains the monster, that takes the most boring option out of all those that were possible and floating around and settles on something that was blatant, obvious, typically rejected not because of how novel it is but how trite and par for the course it is in the rest of the genre.

yeah, okay. humans know nothing about monsters and there's a "monster dimension" that exists separately from the human dimension. there's no crossover between the two of them. of course there's a big grand-scale fight between the eldritch powers that zoe used to be a part of, from which not only are slayers the main organization against them, but also the merkingdom has some horse in this race too. it's an urge to make things so universal in explaining them, in revealing connecting threads which unite everything that's ever happened in here, that makes the worldbuilding and lore immediately much more boring than it ever was before.

and it didn't have to be this way! nothing in the first game contradicts any of this too explicitly (see the above, the first game loves to contradict itself), and i would even be happy if this was basically canon but never stated or confirmed to be the big overarching everything going on underneath it all. i believe you should probably know these things about any world that you create and have them in the back of your mind. the difference is that you can know these things and keep them in mind, even focusing on things where its very relevant, and still not reveal them. this is why you have lore bibles, after all. every horror writer knows exactly how their monster works and the full underlying reason for everything that happens, but that doesn't mean the audience will see it or possess this same information too, and leaving it intentionally obscure will make far better stories.

which, this is bad enough, but it wouldn't be the breaking point for me if this was all there was.

but the worst thing of all has to be the slow decay of the very same characters that sold me on this world, this lore, this game in the first place. monster prom is nothing without the characters in it. it's a dating sim, it has nothing but characters to get you to play, and liking these characters are the entire reason anyone would pick up monster prom in the first place.

and the first game pulls this off extremely well. it's all in the tagline: be your worst self. they are, indeed, all terrible people. yes, even that character that you just thought of right now. they all have points in the game where they commit atrocities, where they kill or hurt people, where they do inexcusable things that could not be ignored in a more serious setting.

but that's the point. i think there's something very powerful in creating a character who not only do you love and love their personality and the way they interact with the world, but who also are inapologetically terrible, and to have the humor and the charisma be so good that you don't get bogged down in the "this is awful". likewise, it never feels the urge to really go out of its way to justify what's going on. this is not to say theres no discussion of if someone "deserved it", but usually there's still the sense that the joke is on them, that this is still an extreme reaction specifically for comedy and not necessarily something that can be justified. you can have damien set leonard on fire and have it feel earned, without prompting the needed reaction of what it's actually like to watch someone burn to death.

this is what sets the prank masterz ending apart from the rest of the game, and really establishes it as the first real "bad ending". because nothing that you do or happens in the prank masterz ending is any different from anything else that happens in any other run. you summon evil beings from other dimensions as a throwaway gag on how visiting one location raises your stats. you kill other people and damn them to terrible fates. you watch as body horror happens. the only difference is that, in the prank masterz ending, the laugh track doesn't play.

the rest of the game and the writing echoes this philosophy, this careful interplay of tropes that keeps everything tongue in cheek and yet sincere enough to make sure emotional beats still land when they're needed. the characters feel true to themselves and their own emotions, even when the world is extreme and excessive, when everything else runs on comedy logic.

this is also what i noticed failing first as time went on.

like i said, fanon has always existed and there's always been very specific ideas as to what characters are like in the same way fanon always flattens down characters into the same tropes over and over. scott is stupid and innocent and doesn't know what sex is. damien is violent and hot and too cool for anyone else. miranda is the idiot girl character. repeat over and over and over until you get sick of it.

but it's been an issue as time has crept on that canon has started to approach fanon and began to merge with it. now, scott is so innocent that he can't even curse. polly starts being mean to her friends and saying things that would be very hurtful to hear. the merkingdom isn't really super evil and fucked up, it's just miranda that's like that. they become simpler, easier to digest, streamlined for social media posts and mass-sharing. they become less and less subversions of existing tropes and moreso just another example of them, something else to add to the collection, not their own individual stories.

even further from this, what more complex traits they had are now stated and not shown. polly is stated to be smart and clever in a way that her party girl persona doesn't imply and to be sincerely rather down to earth with the people she cares about, but we seldom ever see this anymore unless its the game specifically trying to make a point about it, in which case it won't let her do anything that implies cleverness and moreso will just outline it in the narration. vera is stated to care for people in a very genuine and heartfelt way, but seldom will get a chance to do so, and every opportunity for her to do so to their faces is missed while she will just outright state it later. it does not feel consistent, it does not feel like any of these are intended reads of their actions. it feels like the devs have something they want to do but no idea on how to actually do so. and forget it if you want these traits to manifest in small ways that show up in unrelated moments and scenes.

the dialogue becomes harder and harder to tell between each speaker, if you are just looking at what's said and not at the pictures attached to it. the characters' distinct voices have been eroded away, so that they speak more and more like each other, relaying the same terms and ideas in the same words. perspective becomes a suggestion, instead of a must.

this is something that started back in monster camp too, as all of the endings in that game felt ultimately the same as every other ending. it's very hard to place or define the full reason why, why there feels like there's no emotional stakes nor investment, why everything feels moreso like selecting different coats of paint and trying to find all the different ending pictures rather than being interested in exploring the characters as characters.

stranger yet, the series that started with the tagline of "be your worst self" has experienced a kind of... softening, for lack of a better word? what i mentioned about being able to handle the balance between terrible people who do terrible things and the light tone of the game starts to change, as abruptly the same characters who were down with violent murder in the first game start to lose their nerve, acting more and more on more typical morality. it's one of those things that feels like it's starting to damage the tone, as abruptly it's not as absurd as it used to be, demands less suspension of disbelief which could buffer and support the rest of the setting on it. there's even a part in one of the endings in montrip which involves current-polly and current-scott looking back on their monprom selves and reacting in horror at how violent and careless their pranks are, in a way that fundamentally felt like it was undercutting and disparaging all the things that felt fun and made monprom what it was.

which is odd, really, because more and more i feel like the characters in these games like each other less and less. the friendships and genuine enjoyment of each others company that brought me to this game in the first place has gone. now they don't mention each other as much, don't care for each other's feelings and reactions as much, aren't as willing to support each other. they are more and more found on their own, relied on their own, seem to seek out contact and interaction with their own friends less and less. it feels like they're all separating out into their own worlds, but also feels like they wouldn't willingly want to interact with each other if they weren't already forced together by some other outside contrivance.

if anything, i'd compare it to every other dating sim out there, where you, the player, are the most important person in these characters' lives, and they only feel ambivalent or antagonistic towards every other character. which, again, is not why i picked up monster prom or why i liked it so much in the first place.

and it's because of this that it feels like the current state of the series has to focus on its increasingly weak worldbuilding and lore, trying to form a more serious foundation without character relationships being so tightly bound together, without the characters themselves being more developed and rich, without an aspect of absurd humor to rely on.

more and more i've noticed monprom has to rely on referencing other series to make itself funny and create humor, which, again, it's always done. it was just easier to ignore back then, if you didn't know what was being referenced, because there was always more going on in the exact same scene to bolster it and give context clues as to the setup and punchline at play. it feels like the current games are much more dependent on you knowing pop culture references in order to have any fun with it, and i'm someone who, again, is very picky in what i like or what i'll seek out. i'm not interested in a stream of references about other things that i would much rather be doing than playing through a game that feels like it hates that i like it at all, when i could, again, just be engaging with the thing that takes itself seriously and knows what it wants.

[piracytheorist]

Episode 28 extras!

I don't know if it's because I'm a parched bitch that will take literally anything the anime team will give me and I'll also thank them, but I'm actually glad they decided to expand the episode with fillers from random parts of the manga. That way they can use more of Endo's stuff that they cannot make an entire episode out of, and at the same time put enough space between anime and manga so that Endo won't be pressured and also the anime won't veer into different canon.

Like, I felt that Yuri's part got adequate screen time and focus. The choices they seemed to have were 1) Push it into a half-episode and add another chapter for the second half, 2) Make it into a full episode dedicated just on that, and 3) Go freely, see how much screen time it takes up, then use fillers for the rest of the episode. And I like that they took the third option, thus giving the appropriate time for Yuri's part without rushing it nor stretching it too much. It was, after all, an episode that required some long moments of silence, so it makes sense why it needed almost sixteen minutes instead of ten like most other chapters get.

Anyway! Bondman is over Princess Honey, it seems.

He once again shoots his enemies with suction cup darts. Guess real bullets are too much... but blood is not, lol

I mean they do show him getting whipped on another episode, so

Also, poor trigger discipline! Get yo finger off!

Then Spy Wars decides to get actually dark. A little.

I was so convinced by my crack theory that the show is royal propaganda for Ostania, that this shook me completely off, lol.

I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO MAKE OF THIS ANYMORE. The fictional kid's cartoon in my fake family anime makes no sense and I am devastated

The second to last thing I expected from Spy Wars was to give Bondman a harem. The last thing I expected was for those women to get revenge on him for exactly that.

And then once again I am Loid, Loid is me

What is this generation rotting their brains with

I also didn't expect them to animate the bonus parts from the manga! I liked that they added a layer of art strokes over it. Dunno why, but it's a funny little addition to end the episode.

Anya: *is a child* Twilight: I dO nOT UnDeRsTAnD!!11!!

Here Loid is wearing a shirt while in the manga he's shirtless, and being the whump fan I am, my very first thought was "Now I can still headcanon he has scars there and is cautious about showing them 👀👀"

Also! Anya's alarm clock says it's twenty-five to nine, and Loid says she has ten minutes before her bus gets there.

So the bus arrives at a quarter to nine, takes her to school, and classes start around nine. I thought they'd start at eight, lol, but now it makes sense why sometimes it's sunset when Anya gets back from school.

And another VERY FUNNY detail is that the alarm is ringing, and when Loid shakes Anya he's also shaking the clock. If you notice you can hear the alarm bell ring a little differently as he does because the movement impacts the way the little hammer hits the bells. It rings again normally when he stops moving. I legitimately cannot believe they went that far in the sound effects department, we stan 🤣

[anghraine]

fanny-price-defense-squad replied to this post:

@anghraine who was it???

Oh!! I was so foggy when I posted the "which Austen character mainly contributed to my dissertation" poll that I actually completely forgot it existed. The people actually did vote, if barely, for the right choice—Mary Crawford!

(Darcy was right behind her in the poll but barely mentioned in the dissertation, while Henry Crawford—who only got 1.5% of the vote—also figured pretty significantly.)

Now I'm looking at other results of my own polls over the last year, as well:

The "Why is Elrohir's name in Gondorian rather than Elvish Sindarin" poll result: a strong vote for "actually it's Númenórean Sindarin" (the assumption I've always made myself, but it was interesting to think about other possibilities, since Tolkien never explained it).

The "Pick a fave from my Tolkien faves from each major text" poll result: Faramir narrowly beat out Gandalf with everyone else far behind (the closest was Lúthien).

The "pick a fave from my faves from five fandoms" poll result: Faramir again, closely beating out Luke Skywalker and Fitzwilliam Darcy (Moiraine and Gwen Thackeray never had a chance).

The "best dead guy from my dissertation" poll result: Jonathan Swift just squeaked past Olaudah Equiano!

The two women's wrongs polls: the first poll result was Clytemnestra, the second Azula.

The "what's your headcanon for the unexplained reasons the Stewards were not in the line of succession despite being descendants of Anárion" poll: by a huge margin, actually, the people chose "they were formally removed from the succession in exchange for the powers of the Stewardship."

The "pick your favorite video game/series" poll result: a very unsurprising and easy win for the Mass Effect trilogy (with BG3 the only thing even remotely near).

The "why do those of you who also like fics about ostensibly cis male characters in canon being genderbent to women" poll result: it's interesting to imagine how the character and plot would be affected, slightly beating out the option for "I neither like nor dislike the fics as a genre, I just like the good ones."

The "vote between my top Spotify Wrapped songs" poll results: "Landslide" by Fleetwood Mac slightly beat out Florence + The Machine's "King" and Queen's "Who Wants to Live Forever" (both exactly tied in close second place).

The "what is the best non-canon FemShep pairing" poll result: Shepard/Jack won pretty handily!

The "which of my ~controversial headcanons do you like best" poll result: Elizabeth and Darcy have separate bedrooms and this is good for their marriage.

The "which non-canon Darcy ship is best" poll result: Darcy/Anne Elliot, which mildly surprised me (I like it but am not sure they'd get around to talking to each other), beating out the world conquest pairing of Darcy/Emma.

The "which of my selected Queen songs is the most purely beautiful in your opinion" poll result: "Under Pressure" (with David Bowie), narrowly beating out "The Show Must Go On."

The "what would be the most awesome class/subclass for my Seldarine drow in BG3" poll result: Paladin of Vengeance! (I actually did make her and am just getting back into playing BG3 again after dissertation hell derailed her avenging of injustices.)

The "who played your favorite Marguerite St. Just" poll result: Jane Seymour, easily.

[an-otterly-adorable-being]

First Sight: Some Stolas x Singer!Reader Headcanons

Just a few headcanons of the first time you meet the oh-so lovely Prince Stolas. Reader's gn and while music choice is up to you, I wrote it thinking of Will Wood. Anyways, enjoy!

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• You've been working places in Greed for a while now.

• Clubs, lounges, parties, anywhere that could get you some money, really.

• The night you met him was rather ordinary, all things considered.

• You were up on stage of this lounge, singing a few low energy songs as patrons threw back drinks.

• You had just begun a new, more seductive song as rain drops pattered along the roof.

• And then he walked in.

• You knew who Prince Stolas was, mostly from the news.

• Messy affair, divorce, and what seemed to be a lot more problems as rumors of an assassination attempt against him spread.

• Naturally, he looked like a mess.

• Feathers unkempt, bags under his glowing red eyes, and an outfit thrown together without care.

• No one paid him any mind as he walked down and sat in one of the tables by the stage.

• Normally you'd keep your feelings separate from your job, but you felt bad for him.

• Not to mention he did look kinda cute.

• You also know that the guy running the lounge gave a good bonus for putting on a good show for the customers, so you did what you did best: making people feel good via music and seduction.

• You stepped off the stage, swaying your hips as you moved.

• This wasn't your first time doing something like this, far from it, to be honest.

• Stolas didn't raise his head to look at you until you were at his table.

• And boy did he pay attention when you started singing too him!

• The rest of the lounge raised their heads to watch as you gently lifted his head to look at you, faces mere inches apart.

• You didn't kiss Stolas. You could've, if you wanted to, but you didn't.

• Instead, you leaned into whisper to him.

• "Find me after I'm done."

• You got a handful of cheers as you sauntered back on stage, wrapping up the end of the song.

• The whole place clapped, ranging from half-hearted to full on applause, as you went back stage.

• Conveniently, that was your last song for the night, another demon with a guitar passing you by.

• You took a seat at one of the benches nearby. The lounge's backstage wasn't super comfy, or spacious, but it felt good to sit down atleast.

• You spent a few moments checking your phone, when you saw someone approach you.

• It was Stolas, taking you up on your offer.

• The two of you took a back door out onto the loading area, not covered from the light rain.

• He didn't seem to mind though, walking over and sitting on the edge of the platform.

• You followed suit, and you just...talked for a while.

• Usually people who you "seduce" end up taking a different offer -if you know what I mean- but Stolas just needed a shoulder to lean on.

• The two of you actually became pretty good friends that night, a little bit more than that, if you were being honest.

• Neither you nor Stolas knew whether or not entering a relationship would be a good idea. After all, Stolas still had the imp he was into, and you had your own reservations.

• The two of you did decide to go on a little trial date, though, and you couldn't wait.

• Alas, it was late and you needed to get home.

• You did give Stolas a quick kiss on the cheek before you left.

• You checked over your shoulder as you walked away.

• Damn, he was so cute when he was flustered.