#{ Muse; Ignatius }

[amuseoffirebane]

>when you're working on a fanfiction and realize something about canon that isn't actually stated but is so damn plausible you feel like you've blown the whole damn case wide open

Ok assuming the Old Knowledge is still relevant and Ignatius is still alive in Asininia, that doesn't explain how he got there. By all rights he should have never been able to access the trans-dimensional tech.

Except. Except.

1955 – In financial difficulty, Colonel Peter A. Walter III makes a regretful financial deal with Ignatius Becile for funds.

It's never elaborated on what Three gave Ignatius.

Guys what if that was the deal

WHAT IF THREE GAVE IGNATIUS ACCESS TO KAZOOLAND IN ORDER TO SAVE THE WALTER LEGACY

Time to bring the picture back

[fwipination]

Iggy gets a shave an a haircut because that's what you do after a redemption arc. He sometimes also forgets certain new features between transformations-- usually the horns and pointy teeth. Sometimes his tail if he's ESPECIALLY distracted, but he hates it when that happens. Cricket always assumes it's on purpose!

The Donut King tank top is canon.

[supernova-memes]

Pray as though everything depended on God; act as though everything depended on you.

Saint Ingatius

[starlightspun-archive]

“What are you guys doing? Have you seen Annabelle and the ghost?”

“We’re collecting flowers for our Mamas!”

“Annie took Ghost to the park.”

“Which one?”

“Probably the one with the geese.”

“Alright.”

“Wait, come back!”

?

“Come pick flowers with us!”

“But I don’t have parents...”

“What about Meilan?”

“I wish she was my Mama.”

“Anfisa isn’t my birth mother either, but here I am.”

“Besides, wouldn’t she be happy to know you think of her as your mother?”

“You’re right. She’d be thrilled!”

[luxmaeastra]

Balerion looked to Ignatius and titled his head.

"What exactly will we be fighting for? Against the witches or -"

"I think you know the answer to that one Balerion." He didn't need to say it, the wear of this battle was clear in his face as he looked down upon the maps.

He would not be swayed from his beliefs, he wouldn't be swayed from supporting what he believed in.

[nohr-selphias]

After consulting my resources (personal horniness level) I’ve decided that ignatius wears glasses

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Lizzaneia's Grimoire of Yandere Men

Here's a masterlist of my yanderes! It will be updated regularly whenever a prompt or fic will be posted.

RULES FOR REQUESTING: Here

YANDERE MEN SECOND SET : HERE

(I separated the second set since the photo got capped already ^^)

ALL YANDERE MEN SET 1

RANKING REQ: The yanderes as fathers

SCENARIO REQ: The Yanderes with their yandere children

RANKING REQ: The yanderes and your period

SCENARIO REQ: The yanderes and their dream date

SCENARIO REQ: The yanderes and their Choice of Outfit for You

SCENARIO REQ: The Yanderes and their Darling's lonely birthday

ALL YANDERE OC ASKS AND WRITER ASKS

Top 3 yandere men (my OCs) when it comes to jealousy

ask: How would I define yandere?

Which OCs inherited their yandere-ness/Has yandere-ness in their genes?

My top 3 yanderes

YANDERE VERSION OF FANDOM CHARACTERS

Yandere! Neuvillette (Genshin)

Yandere! Solomon (Obey Me)

yandere! Artist Arlen

main fic

yandere! artist and his muse

Yandere! Dragon Vincent

main fic

Req: Yandere tidbits: flying

Yandere! Theater Actor Ignatius

main fic

ask: Soooo does this mean Ignatius got roleplay k!nk??

What if: reader is an otaku?

Yandere! Butler Zero

main fic

Yandere! Sugar Daddy Rowan

main fic

ask: Rowan can spoil me anytime :)

ask: Just read yandere sugar daddy AND GOD!! Plz do part 2. I want to see them dating🫣

REQ: Yandere! Jock Damon

main fic (also had voice headcannons for the previous yan men)

Req: WHAT IF: Reader is a black belter in martial arts?

Ask: what if the reader doesn't like Damon's himbo personality?

Ask: What if Damon drops his facade?

Req: ask of a What if: Black belter reader met somebody else in the promotional test?

Req: Yandere tidbit: achievements

What if: darling posts a thirst trap?

Req: Yandere tidbit: Reward system

REQ: Yandere! Assassin Azrael

main fic

req:yandere! Assassin and his conglomerate girlfriend

ask: oh. hm.. so. Azrael right? So he gonna tear us down eh?-- What would happen next 🤡?

ask: I'm actually scared for yan!assassin mc.......

Yandere! Ex-boyfriend Lee

main fic

Req: WHAT IF: Reader is now a husk?

Req: WHAT IF: Reader knows how to protect themselves?

Yandere! Cowboy Knoxx

main fic

Req: WHAT IF: Darling goes back to the city?

Req: WHAT IF: The reader goes back to the city, but this time with Knoxx?

Req: What if of a WHAT IF: Reader becomes a broken husk after the baby trapping?

Yandere! Emo Ashton

main fic

req: Yandere! Emo and his beloved popular bitch

REQ: Yandere! Werewolf Lyall

main fic

Req: Yandere tidbit: Knitting

Yandere! Ex-husband Iñigo

main fic

Req: WHAT IF: You refused to marry him?

REQ: Yandere! hospital chairperson Xavier

main fic

Req: WHAT IF: Darling got sick?

REQ: Yandere! Villain Eros

main fic

ask: Darling avoids Eros turned Part 2

REQ: Yandere! Politician Maximus

main fic

REQ: Yandere! Mafia boss Hades

main fic

Req: WHAT IF: Reader is a rebel type?

Req: WHAT IF: Reader is "cheating"?

[raisingmybanner]

Banner!!!!! Welcome 🥰

I have fond memories of your little snippets during writing sprints, so I have to ask you this one!!

Share your crunchiest bit(s) of dialogue with zero context

Hello!! Thank you so much for the welcome (and the ask)! <33 You are so kind.

(Ahaha I am so happy to have gotten this question several times so I can choose multiple little bits to share XD)

“Hi, call me Ling,” the prince said with a small wave and a plate heaped with something that looked suspiciously like frosted doughnuts. “Someone said you were the man to talk to about art.”

Riza was distracted from her surprise by the doughnuts. It was lunchtime, and Riza hadn’t seen any doughnuts on their table. Where had they come from?

“Not me,” Mustang said at once, getting over any surprise he had felt with admirable swiftness. “You must mean Alex Armstrong. I’m just an amateur.”

“That’s not what I heard,” the prince said, stuffing a doughnut in his mouth. “Ohh these are wonderful. Mei will hate them. I need to bring her at least three.”

“I assure you, Alex would know anything you’d want to know,” Mustang said. 

“Anything I want to know?” Ling mused. “Your name would be a good place to start. And your wife’s?”

“Ignatius Chris,” Mustang said quickly, looking (perhaps genuinely) flustered. Riza wanted to pin a medal on the young man for bringing Mustang back down to earth, even if she didn’t know why he was here and didn’t trust him. “And this is Sue Gemin, my fiancée.”

“Ah, fiancée, apologies,” Ling said, nodding at Riza and smiling. “Much better that way, I’ve found.”

[funguslesbian]

Ok this fucks actually-

I don't think I showed you this? Speaking of Becile Music, I made this playlist awhile back. There's 2 songs for Thadeus, Ignatius, Norman, Buster, and Vivian in that order, then 4 songs that are Family Vibes

👀

Don't mind if I do~

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

In The Woods Somewhere

Chapter 3: Fall Of Man

Summary: Memory is a monster.

Pairing: Father Ignatius x nun!afab!Reader

Word Count: -3k

Content Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat 18+!, Discourse About Trauma, Past Trauma Triggering An Episode, The Usual Heresy, Angst… Lots Of It!

A/N: I don't even write slow burns…how did we get here?!

No pressure tagging: @queer-crusader @theprettiesthead @midnight-mess @blueberrypancakesworld @theidiotwhowrites

But the wind has picked us up now, we're hanging in the air

And as you grip me like an animal that you're about to spear

"Be good to me, " I whisper

And you say, "What?" and I say, "Nothing, dear"

- That Unwanted Animal By The Amazing Devil

Bowing down to the inevitable change of season, the leaves of the thick and mighty chestnut tree right behind the herb garden turned from a vibrant green to countless shades of orange and auburn, one color variation more beautiful and intricate than the other; chlorophyll withering away to grant the tree one last show of its beauty before the leaves would be dead and rotting on the floor in mere weeks.

Beautiful thing, you thought, looking at the tree from behind a dust and dirt-smeared, thin glass window, so unbothered and simply perfect in the way it grew out of the dark soil for decades now.

“BHAAAAA.” Sister Carla tore you out of your musings, not only mentally but physically as well, pouncing at you in a playful manner, nearly knocking you over, back slumping on your hay mattress.

“Carla, please.” You shoved the younger woman back, her gleeful smile dying down remarkably fast in such juvenile innocence that you regretted the harsh tone rolling over your tongue.

“Sorry.”, You tried to catch her mood from falling further, consoling her with a smile you had to work your face for, “I’m just very tired, be gentle with me, dear.”

“Oh, I figured.”, Sister Carla grinned again as she made herself comfortable next to you, the bed barely being wide enough to accommodate, “Wandering the hallways at night and smelling strange after that. Where have you been? You know you can tell me. Please? Please tell me, I want to know.”

“Carla, I’ve told you already.”, Keeping that lie of a smile plastered to your face, you took the Sisters hand gently in the palm of yours, “It’s been the wool itching against my skin so much that I mindlessly scratch it all open. Then I went into the kitchen to grab some of the alcohol Sister Margarita keeps to clean the scratches. Did you know that alcohol keeps scratches and cuts from getting infected?”

The younger woman shook her head, her rusty brown hair falling into her slim face. It didn’t surprise you just one bit that she didn’t know, being raised in this cesspit of censorship and carefully spoon-fed knowledge and education.

“Is that why you stink so much? The alcohol, I mean.” To nonverbally underline her point, Carla scrunched her nose after curiously prodding fingertips had nudged against the discolored collar of your gown.

You nodded, a sense of uncomfortable uncleanliness tugging at your insides.

“Can you please save me some from the lunch? I’d like to clean myself up, yeah?” Carla jumped off of your bed, crossing her arms in front of her chest and tilting her head to the side.

“You already slept through breakfast! Sister Margarita is getting really upset with you and Sister Iphigenia is worried. What am I supposed to tell them, huh?” Sister Carla had a point but she mustn’t know why you very willingly slept through breakfast and wanted to avoid lunch at any cost as well.

“Please tell them that I will grab lunch a little bit later and see to my chores right after because I’d like to clean my dress before the stains are too dried up to do so.” You tried reasoning with her and Carla opened her mouth to respond but a new, much more exciting thought raced to be uttered first.

“Oh, I haven’t told you yet, did I?”, Your brows knit together, feigning obliviousness, “We have a visitor!”

Sister Carla bounced on her heels, face beaming with excitement because the periodical stays of Father Ignatius unfortunately really came as the most exciting thing happening in this outsourced circle of hell.

“Oh? Already?”, Your throat rendered dry, mind reeling and thrashing in poor attempts of trying to shove the freshest memories out of your thoughts, “See? Even more reason to get freshened up properly, no?”

“Hurry! Talk is that he brought some things from the mainland for us!” Carla was almost squealing before throwing you one last look and dashing away, probably to the kitchen to help Sister Iphigenia with the cooking.

Oh, you sure knew that he had certainly brought things from the mainland. Whisky, cigarettes, and who knows what else and you could hardly believe that there were things amongst pleasure-stained sacrilege that were meant for the convent.

The thing he’d brought for you so far was chaos. Nothing but chaos and confusion, temptation - planting it in your head, his spindly roots working themselves through every layer of your conscience, making you feel like you couldn’t get rid of him even if you tried to cut him out of you.

Father Ignatius wasn’t a man of god, he couldn’t be, no, he was a hypocrite and a pretender…just like you.

As Sister Margarite brabbled an endless cacophony about the gardens of the monastery, her pride and joy, the supple inventory of the apothecary, and the almost finished renovation of the little chapel, Ignatius couldn’t bother to listen to any of it to save his life. Maybe he should propose a vow of silence upon the convent, perhaps a doable task for the upcoming weeks of lent in about 6 months. For endless minutes, the elderly woman went on and on and on about things that wouldn’t tickle his interest in the slightest, not in a hundred years’ time.

Occasionally, Father Ignatius nodded along pretentiously, taking a sip from his tea that could most certainly use some sugar or honey but god forbid and heaven shall burn anything in this place was ever made with the intent of being enjoyable.

His thoughts drifted off, away from the lunch table in the small dining room, slithering along the cold stone tiles beneath his feet and back to the confessional, towering crooked and lackluster in a nook down the hall. The memory of your wide, frightened eyes held him in an iron-tight grip, evoking a distinct flush of anger directed towards anything that had you scared and distraught like this. Ignatius knew this kind of scare that had flickered in your eyes, a sentiment way beyond awe and reverence, something had shaken you so harshly in the past that it was haunting you ever since. It hadn’t been the first time seeing you look that way at him, no, most certainly not.

Ever since the very first time Ignatius had set food past the ancient door frames, you’d looked at him like this, endlessly sharp splinters of trauma replaying in your mind, that if you dared to put your eyes on him at all; trails of nagging guilt and intangible amounts of internalized shame gushing from your lashlines, the very type of sadness everybody here, but especially Sister Margarite, was hellbent on ignoring.

Every few months, he’s watched you getting a little worse, the way you carried yourself a twinge more disheveled, at times almost regressive and him being in no place to really help you because he hardly understood what was actually happening to you in the first place; that was until the previous night: You quivering and shaking next to him after trying to purge the contempt out of your body by violently ripping at your throat - poor thing.

He chewed down at the inside of his cheek reflecting on his unfortunate whim of trying to get to you, lapping at you like that without even giving it a second thought. Fucking idiot. Ignatius suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at himself. It had been way too much, he’d come off too strong for someone in such a delicate state to handle, practically sticking his finger in the helplessly festering wound and drilling a nail into it.

His eyes darted right past Sister Margarite, out of the dingy, rectangular window that didn't close properly anymore and probably never really had, a swiftly moving, stark white spot catching his attention as he watched it rush towards the woods.

“How long till lunch you said, Sister?” He tilted his head to the side, managing a brief smile.

“An hour, maybe two, Father. Cooking over a fire takes a bit of time, you understand.” Sister Iphigenia explained and apologized in one go.

“But of course, no rush. Would you excuse me until then, Sisters? I feel like taking a walk, enjoy the fresh breeze away from the city.” Ignatius was getting up from the table already whilst still talking, not waiting for the women to actually agree or disagree; they wouldn't dare to talk back anyway.

“Oh, please, enjoy!” Sister Margarita answered this time, not trying to hide her being somewhat upset with her monologue being forcefully ended.

“Will do.” Ignatius tapped his hand onto the table before pushing away, not just the need for a cigarette quickening his steps.

You cowered crouched down, hunched above the water’s surface in such a curve that you nearly fell forward into the narrow creek rippling cold water between your digits as you scraped your nails over the tarnished wool of your overdress. The cool of the water mixed with a stiff breeze ghosting amongst the trees caused your skin to erupt in waves of goosebumps over and over, the thin linen underdress hardly enough to keep your body’s warmth from disappearing into the air that smelled like rain, amplifying the earthy fragrance of the soil getting crushed beneath your boots.

Getting the stains out of your gown came as a troublesome task you didn’t expect. Cold water should’ve rinsed the dried blood out of the fabric just fine but you surely had to pick and scratch at it quite a bit to see any difference.

“I came to apologize.” You halted instantly, startled, sucking the air in sharply as your brain played catch up with your thoughts that ran wayward like a spilled sack of potatoes.

In a matter of seconds, you shot up from your compromising position, the soaked overdress falling to the ground with a wet thud as you turned around to see the priest standing a little uphill, waiting along the walking path. Synapses fired away relentlessly but no muscle wanted to move just now as you thought about picking up the next best stone to throw at him, ready to hurt the devil in the means to make him stay away, instead, you stood there frozen, staring like a bewildered animal, deciding whether to fight or flight.

“I am earnestly sorry for my behavior last night.”, Father Ignatius came walking down slowly, hands in the pockets of his cassock, “I want to apologize.”

A brittle twig snapped underneath the sole of his shoe and the cracking sound was like a gunshot to you, eventually tearing you out of your stupor and making you lunge forward without a plan; the only objective being survival.

“Stay away from me!” You shrieked at the man whose eyes widened rapidly.

Father Ignatius stumbled back but not nearly as quickly as you came after him, palms flailing through the air aimlessly as to where they thunder down on him - shoulders, chest, face, wherever it hurt was fine.

“You cannot do this to me!”, You heart was almost hammering through your ribcage and your voice broke over and over, not familiar with being used at such volumes, “You are supposed to keep me from all this worldly malice!”

One palm stuck down against his and the priest groaned out, his own hands trying to get a hold of your wrists that were flying through the air like the ends of a whip.

“Sister!”, Father Ignatius huffed, trying his best to remain calm and de-escalate the situation, “I need you to calm down. I am not here to do you any harm, Sister!”

However, his voice wasn’t enough to get through to you, quite the opposite, hearing him talk only fueled the desperation, the fear of being dirtied by a man's hand yet again and punished for things that weren’t your fault to begin with.

“No! You don’t understand!” The words clawed their way out of your dry throat, bordering on being sore with your yells very soon.

“Then tell me!”, First, his hand caught your right arm, the left following swiftly as you lost the momentum, “What do I not understand?”

You tried to tear yourself out of his grasp but his hold on you was too strong, firm but not painful, and within seconds your shrieking turned into sniffled sobbing; anger fed by fear mellowing into drowning despair.

Father Ignatius stared at you, eyes ever attentive yet gentle. He was shocked at the intensity of your outburst but internally groaned at himself because he could’ve figured just by the state you were in.

Lost in your own train of thought, thrashing through a spectrum of emotions that wasn’t kind to you, you rambled at him.

“Stop…stop it. This is all I have left. I can’t go back home.”, Now the words slipped past your lips in a stumbled slurry, “I can’t fuck this up, too. Please.”

“Hey, hey…it’s going to be okay. Breathe.”, The Priest took a step closer to you, thumbs gently caressing over your pulse points in an attempt to calm you, “Look at me. I know you don’t belong here, neither do I.”

Just as he carefully asked you to, you looked at him, a gush of tears threatening to spill from your lash line as it trickled from your tear ducts.

“What…what do you mean?” You mouthed, your tone barely there anymore whilst you turned horribly self-aware of your vulnerability, your affliction of wanting attention, and what it did with you once you started getting just the most meager amounts of it.

“Those things you feel. The things they don't want you to feel in a place like this. They are normal, human, you know that. There is no shame in feeling desire.”, You just blinked at the man whose gaze turned soft, features losing their aura of indifference, he pitied you, “There's no shame in having those urges and acting upon them. It's just…normal.”

Ignatius breathed the last word as an expression of his eternal exhaustion about the incredibly regressive ways of his church.

He watched you calm down slowly, the air between him and you stagnating, loading up with what felt like electric tension and he knew this had to stop, he had apologized and now it was upon him to leave you to take care of your dress.

“This is my opinion and I know it wouldn't fare well with the Sisters. Perhaps another secret to share? If you'll have me.” Ignatius wanted to let you know that you had the reins, that it was your call to make, giving you the power of choice back that had been stripped from you in the monastery.

His eyes dropped to the scabbed cuts along your neck and collar bones, a stark contrast to the thin white underdress hardly covering anything.

Unlike almost a decade ago, it wasn't Ignatius who shoved himself at you in a dusty closet like the janitor's son had done, no, he wasn't lunging at you like a hungry wolf, teeth gnashing and ready to bite in the supple flesh of you bottom lip, a shaky hand finding its way between your legs, palm curving, taking as you had tried to pull back in shock. Instead, it was you who took the leap of faith and stepped forward, closing the distance between your bodies and Ignatius wasn’t howling and barking at you, he was humming as mouths touched, lips pressing against one another tenderly, cautiously even.

For a moment, you forgot to breathe. The taste of herbal tea and a recently smoked cigarette swapping into your mouth as you just went along, stumbling through the interaction as his tongue stroke yours. The janitor's son hadn't kissed you like that, he'd eaten you alive, swallowing the sounds of panic and discomfort, shushing you to shut up or you'd be found out.

Whore.

An icy tingle shot up your spine into the nape of your neck, making you jerk your head like a pupped tugged along at its strings.

“Did I hurt you?” Father Ignatius eyes widened as he immediately loosened his careful grasp around your wrists.

“No.”, You waited for the pain of the sudden and violent twitch to fade, “Sometimes…sometimes that happens when bad memories come back.”

Time halted as you looked, stared at Father Ignatius, admiring how his hair started to curl from the humidity. Handsome devil in a cassock, silver cross heavy against his heaving chest, lips glossy with your saliva and you couldn't decide whether to run or cave, the thrum in your body so ancient and aching.

You wanted him, wanted to feel him, wanted to know what it was like not to feel disgusted and wretched in your own skin. A hand shot forward to grab at the black of his garment and you pulled, inviting him and Ignatius followed suit.

“You're not painful. You're gentle.”, You whispered, lips almost touching again, smelling him in your space but for once it didn't arouse any fear, “Would you have me?”

“Not here. Not like this. You're freezing. It's about to start raining soon.”, Broad palms cradled your waist, squeezing gingerly, “I know I'm asking a lot but do you think you can sneak out after nightfall?”

“To where?” You asked eagerly.

“The chapel? Think about it. If you want that, I mean. I'll be there.”

[amuseoffirebane]

when you remember you had a incredibly self-indulgent fic idea and now that you're writing again it's like hmmm do I want to work on this BUT YOU DOn'T APPEAR TO HAVE TAKEN NOTES SO WHAT IF I'VE FORGOTTEN SOMETHING REALLY GOOD--

[virilitas]

ah yes i am once again craving gothic homoerotic romance plots for the spooky season.

for no one particular ( will be willing to make a new muse for this ). an immortal ( vampire / werewolf / warlock / what have you ) living over centuries and his mortal lover, who keeps getting reborn with the same soul but a different body. every time they meet, they know exactly who they are, and they repeat this process over and over again.

for pygmalion. your muse helping pygmalion find the truth about his creation, nearly 200 years ago. but as you slowly uncover the names of his creator, and the bodies that makes his scarred one, you also unveil the passion and the lust that was shared by the three ... a passion that pygmalion still has in the recesses of his mind.

for alan. you are an apprentice exorcist / demon hunter that he takes under his wing, even if he doesn't want to. he will teach you everything he knows about the work, and he is adamant that this is all he is willing to provide ... and his secrets and history will remain locked inside. maybe your muse will be brave enough to open that up.

for ignatius. it's a battle of morals. ignatius saw your muse and found their goodness / their innocence to be something delectable. your muse can see through this plan and tries to resist it and show him love instead. in the end, which would win?

[idiotwithanipad]

What comes after death if you're already dead? 

A short concept I came up with for my OC Amy. Fearing moving on... 

"Before clock strike midnight, someone going up to the stars"

Robin's giddy excitement had thrown everyone off the beaten path; the concept of moving on from their deaths was enticing to everyone, especially the caveman. He looked as though he couldn't hold back his excitement as he bounced on his furred heels. 

Robin had excused himself in a giddy rush and vanished through the wall, leaving everyone guessing and glimpsing at each other in confusion. Amy sat on the sofa, Humphrey's head resting on her knees, her face didn't show any readable expression, just a blank and vacant stare at the back of the Tudor man's head. 

"Moving on, eh? Sounds nice, dun' it?" Humphrey mused, his eyes flicking up hoping to meet someone's gaze. He felt a slow shift beneath his chin as he was gently placed on the cushioned seat beside Amy, who rose from her seated position, dusting off the back of her pleated skirt, a habit she never 'grew' out of despite being dead for 2 years now.

"Where you off to, Poppet?" Humphrey asked, his eyes flicking up to look at Amy's blank face. The girl paused and shifted uncomfortably. She had no excuses anymore, no more 'I forgot something back on my bed' or 'just gotta check something in my room'. She toyed with her now unconnected headphones and shifted her weight from one boot to the other. 

"... Nowhere". Amy slowly headed away from the sofa, passed Fanny who stared at her in bemusement. The girl still avoided walking through walls and instead opted for taking the doors and halls. The group looked amongst themselves briefly and focused on Humphrey, who's eyes were glued to the last spot where he saw his...No. She wasn't his daughter. He needed to stop playing pretend and face facts; Humphrey Ignatius Bone died without an heir, no child to pass down his name. 

"What do you suppose is wrong with Amy?" The Captain asked, looking towards the equally confused severed head. 

"She usually takes me with 'er..."Humphrey sounded dejected, neglected; it was a fact, Amy had clung to Humphrey most days, almost every day since her first week of death, whenever everyone else wasn't hounding and fluttering around her trying to show her around and get her used to death. 

"Perhaps she went to look for a butterfly? It IS a fun activity. Oh! How exciting, I'll join her" Kitty chimed, gathering her dress skirts and preparing to skip along through the wall, before Pat's hand landed on her shoulder. 

"No no, love, she looks a bit off. Maybe we should give her a minute or so, I'm sure she'll come around" Pat smiled, giving Kitty a reassuring nod. With a short sigh, Kitty slumped down beside Humphrey. 

"If I still had my body, I'd go and find 'er..." Humphrey retorted. 

"She's a teen. Teens like their alone time. Y'know, 'hanging' with their parents isn't really 'down with the sickness' is it?" Julian bumbled, grinning from ear to ear at his very outdated use of slang. And his hint to the rest of the group that Humphrey viewed the strange girl as if she we're his own flesh and blood. 

Pat kneeled down in front of the sofa where Humphrey's head lie. They locked eyes with each other and Pat tilted his head, as much as his arrow would allow, to the side. 

"I'm sure she'll be alright. She knows she can always talk to you if she's in a spot of trouble, mate"

Amy sat alone in a room in the west wing, the room where she died, gazing down at the floorboards. Her face still frozen in that same blank expression. Her eyes remained empty and cold, but her mind burned with questions and worry. 

Every time she came to a conclusion, the method lining up perfectly in her mind, a threatening thought barrelled towards it and bowled it down. She bagan to pick at her fingernails, something she did when she was still alive when she was nervous. She hadn't been this nervous since her GCSE's. 

She wanted to run, to get as far away from this house as possible before it all came crumbling down on her. Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks, her eyelids remained valiant as they kept up their mammoth task of cradling her tears, not allowing them to fall. She got up and paced over to the window, looking over the green lawns, passed the livings who played golf, towards the forest. Maybe she could go there? Maybe if she got far enough away she might not go anywhere she was uncertain of? 

Anywhere but somewhere she didn't know. 

Robin reentered the common room. Everyone was gone. His eyes remained low, gazing under the furniture and along the skirting boards searching for one of the members of his mouse family; he had affairs to be put in order, after all. 

"Oh, it's just you..."  A voice muttered. Robin spun around and noticed Humphrey's head still perched on the sofa, he looked sullen, depressed. 

"Haven't seen Amy have you?" His question puzzled the caveman; they were usually always together, it was a huge task just to get her to leave the severed head alone for a moment to teach her to play chess or demonstrate how to skin a mammoth. 

"No. Where you see her last?" Robin asked, stepping closer to the sofa, knuckles stroking against his furs. 

"Right where you are now. After you mentioned your little 'moving on' thing she just- got up and left. Didn't even take me with 'er. Not to sound like a broken record, but, she always takes me with 'er..." Humphrey couldn't even look Robin in the face, even as he crouched to meet his eyes. 

"She tell you where she go?" Robin grew confused; the Amy he knew was always honest, or maybe the correct word would be 'blunt'. He once caught ear from her that she used 'Towels not Tamps'. Robin still didn't find out what that meant. 

"No, she didn't say a word. I asked her where she was going and she just said, 'nowhere'. Then off she went". 

Robin hummed in confusion, his brow lowering and his jaw jutting to the left. He rose from his crouched position and looked towards the doorway. 

"Me go find her. She not be too far, she ghost, she can't leave, so won't be too hard to find girl with big stompy boot in old creaky house" Robin declared, cracking his knuckles and starting towards the door. 

His search was lengthy, even he started to grow concerned for Amy's whereabouts. What if he got the timing wrong in his prediction? What if Amy had already gone up to the stars? He wasn't ready to lose her yet, he still had so much to teach her and tell her. Finally, he caught it. The sweet, sickly scent of that very drink that caused Amy to choke to death. 

It was faint, but he knew that scent all too well. He put his nostrils to work and followed the aroma like a Bloodhound, leading him into a dingy unoccupied bedroom. 

"Ah, there you are. Come, Humphrey want you" Robin chimed. 

"Go away"

That was harsh. She'd never told him to go away before, she usually loved spending time with him. She actively saught him out sometimes, she even had a name for it, 'Nope-days'. Days where she felt homesick and missed some parts of her old life, she and Robin would sit in the TV room watching National Geographic, sometimes she'd fall asleep resting against the furs at his side. 

Robin remained persistent, yet he couldn't pretend that her words cut him deep. 

"But you no want keep ol' Humpty Dumpty down there lonely. He big sad with you not there" He risked moving closer to the young woman, her knees tucked up to her chest and her chin resting against her folded arms. 

Her eyes flicked into the direction of the caveman at the mention of the severed head she cared so deeply for, but her eyes never left the floorboards. 

"I don't wanna be around anyone right now, he's gonna have to wait a little longer. Tell him I'm sorry but-..." She couldn't finish. She just bit the inside of her cheek and pushed a strand of her ebony hair out of her face and looked away from Robin. 

Robin jerked slightly as something collided with his back. He leapt away from the unseen attacker and rose his furred fist to strike, but stopped when he noticed who it was. Humphrey's headless body came bumbling into the room, his searching hands shifting around, feeling for something. Robin watched curiously as the body edged it's way across the room towards Amy, as if being reeled in by an invisible line. 

Robin couldn't pretend not to notice the quick glace Amy gave towards the body, the even quicker glance away from it, and the tiny tears that bloomed in her eyes as the body's hand found the top of her head. Once the hand realised what it touched, it's jittering patting motions turned to soothing strokes and caresses. 

It crouched down slowly and felt around for Amy's hand. It touched her shoulder first, then her calf, then finally it scooped up Amy's hand from her knee and rubbed it's thumb across her knuckles. Amy wiped her eyes with the cuff of her hoodie and gave the headless body a tiny smile before looking down again. 

The body's other hand came to collect Amy's other hand too. Without a protest, the body helped her stand to her feet. Her eyes remained fixed at nothing, staring blankly downward. She gave a soft glance up at Robin who watched as the body placed it's arm around her back, maybe so it didn't get swept from her side? Maybe to comfort her? Robin couldn't tell. 

The body's hand continued to hold Amy's, it gave her hand a gently squeeze and began walking off to the right side of the room towards the wall, bringing Amy with it. She looked back over her shoulder at Robin, who began to follow the pair through the wall and out into the vast labyrinth of halls and corridors. 

Amy felt as though she had a lot of explaining to do, especially to Humphrey... Or, to his head anyway. She knew exactly where she was being taken, she knew him too well, and his mobile half. 

The body guided Amy through the wall to the common room and Robin followed suit, jogging up ahead past them and towards the sofa where he'd seen Humphrey's head. 

"Ey! I find Amy. Then your body find Amy. She here" Robin beamed his crooked grin and let out a sharp sigh of relief. 

"Amy?" Humphrey's voice was weak. As if he hadn't spoken in days, it reminded Amy of when she first met him, when he was often neglected in the most unpleasant of places, rarely put anywhere nicer at least. 

"... Hey" Amy mumbled, her hands awkwardly sliding into the front pocket of her hoodie. 

The body finally released Amy's hand and moved to the front of the sofa, it bent down and slowly scooped up its head, fixing it back onto the stump above its shoulders. With a click and a twitch, Humphrey's full form seemed to meld together and come to life at last. His soft eyes blinked and focused on the girl. He moved back over to her cautiously, as if one creak of a floorboard or a single forceful step would result in her bolting away from him. 

"Look, I don't expect you to tell me what's wrong if you don't want to... but, at least tell me how I can help?" Humphrey said, his brow creasing with concern and sadness. 

Robin stepped closer, stroking his furs and tilting his head slightly, wanting to hear the reason for Amy's sudden hostility earlier. 

"It was nothing, I-I was just being a twat" Amy stuttered, her eyes flicking from side to side. Humphrey gave a slow, drawn out blink and shook his head slowly, knowingly. 

"... What?" Amy questioned, looking between Humphrey and Robin who now also looked disheartened. 

"Fine. I just- wanted to be alone for a while because I was scared" 

Humphrey and Robin shared puzzled glances towards each other, Robin even shrugged and itched behind his ear. 

"Scared of what?" Humphrey asked, looking his body over to make sure he didn't look as grotesque as he felt. 

"Of what Robin said. Of.. Y'know. Whoosh.." Amy said with an upward flourish of her hands, before letting them flop back down into her pocket. 

Robin took on the appearance of a deer in headlights and diverted his gaze from Amy to Humphrey, who practically scowled at the caveman for this crackpot theory. 

"B-But, when you move on you go to up to the stars. It big good up there, many people, old family-" Robin began to try and back up his claim before Amy cut him to the quick. 

"What if there's nothing when you move on?" 

Robin's ramble ended in his jaw hanging slack and his eyes bulging slightly, focusing on Humphrey who looked back over at him with the same remaining face of confusion. 

"I mean, you don't actually KNOW what happens when you move on. Like-...maybe you've just been lucky not moving on after all this time, Robin? What if when you move on there's no more... 'Ghosting'? You're just... gone? You're just stuck nowhere. No light, no friends, no family, no noise, no nothing? ACTUALLY dead?" Amy's voice held deep sadness and dread. 

Even Robin had began to contemplate whether or not he thought she was right; he didn't know what was to come. He'd always assumed, after spending these thousands of years in the same place, any kind of new place would be a huge adventure. But what comes after death if you're already dead? 

Robin's head shook slowly and his shoulders slumped down in a heavy sigh. 

"I dunno..." The caveman muttered, his gaze sinking lower to the ground. Humphrey piped up and held out a hand, ready to pat Amy on the shoulder. 

"But it COULD be better than this, you just-"

"I don't WANT better than this!" Amy blurted, stepping back away from Humphrey's outstretched hand. Robin jumped slightly and took a sidestep away from Amy, shocked at her sudden increase in volume. Humphrey's hand froze in place before gliding back down to his side. 

"What do you mean?" Humphrey asked, his eyes widening; she didn't want anything better than being trapped here for eternity? It baffled him, he'd give his arm and his leg to move on if he hadn't already lost his head. 

Amy's eyelids screwed shut and she grit her teeth, unable to believe she let herself slip up like that. 

"I don't want this to be over. Okay?... I don't want to never see any of you again. And even if it's nice- wherever we go after this, how do you know we'll even be together again? I don't wanna be alone anymore, I got enough of that when I was alive. Hell, I think when Mum and I came here when I was alive, that was the most time we'd spent together in months." Amy admitted amidst panting breaths and exasperated hand gestures. 

Humphrey's gaze lowered. He remembered the time Amy opened up about her life. Her busy mother, absent father and lack of friends left her very lonely. He could sympathize, he had a lonely life too, people were there with him, but not emotionally. They weren't there FOR him when he needed them. 

After hearing his theory put like that, Robin hoped he was wrong. His eyes coming back up to meet Amy's. 

"I never alone in life... But alone in death, big long time. It bad. Went mad. No more alone" Robin gave a swift shake of his head and let his emotions get the better off him. 

His arms braced around Amy and crushed her into a tight hug. Amy's nose crunched against Robin's thorax and her lip curled at the unpleasant scent of the old musky furs. With a muffled groan of discomfort, she batted her hand against Robin's arm to urge him to release her. 

It took him a few seconds to register the gesture before huffing and letting her go, but not stepping too far away. Amy released a deeply held breath and sharply inhaled a fresh one, gathering her hand to correct the placement of her unusable headphones

"Well..." Humphrey said softly.

"I hope, whatever waits for you whenever you move on is something that you're looking for, Poppet"

Amy clutched onto Humphrey and Robin's hands tightly, swaying them back and forth slightly with a new smile on her face. 

"I already have it"

[helldustedstories]

@allcluia asked: ⭐

Send me a ⭐ and I’ll tell you muses I want to throw your way! // Pretty much always accepting, tbh!

OKAY, here we go!

Obviously, I think Caly and Echo should hang out. They both tend to sort of mirror people, so it would be very interesting to see what they pick up on with one another. Echo's main job is collecting and passing along information to the people that hire them, so that seems like a really easy in, especially since they can blend in pretty much anywhere they go!

If Caly's around Mammon a lot, then it stands to reason he'd run into Ozzie and/or Lucifer, so that could definitely be interesting! I know we already have something with Luci and I gotta get off my butt and reply to that!

And if you're interested in anyone else, I'm sure we can come up with something! These are just off the top of my head ideas. ^^

Ignatius could interact with Stolas, and I know we have at least one thing with them (probably still hidden in my drafts oops), but anyone who could interact with the Goetia could hang out with him! So, like, Ozzie, Lucifer, potentially Charlie would be pretty easy to throw in his direction, and I could probably come up with other ideas for other people!

Depending on when and how, I'm sure I could throw people at Evan! Either during extermination day, or if she happened to be wandering Hell or something. Or Lucifer and Ozzie could run into her pre-Fall, if Evan's been around that long.

And Johnny could fairly easily interact with both Sonny and Monty, though that certainly doesn't stop there! He could pretty easily interact with more people, too, but those were the first two that came to mind!

Again, these are all just top of my head things!

[starlightspun-archive]

I was telling my mom about Ignatius earlier, and I said, “He flaps his ears when he’s happy, like some people do with their hands.”

When I went back to my room, I hopped on google to look up why some kids do that, and I got this:

So yea, Ignatius is autistic now

[luxmaeastra]

Balerion kissed his daughter's forehead and looked to Ignatius.

"Thank you for coming to her opening debut."

He was the fearsome Valg in centuries. He'd fought in Maeve's wars. He'd done worse than anything Rask could come up. But he found more enrichment watching his daughter perform than any tour he'd done.

He beamed down at little Juniper.

"You did wonderfully darling."

"I wouldn't miss it for anything in this world, it is important to show support to my friends." Ignatius smiled. It was always nice to see the bond of a father and a daughter, seeing the pride that so little now showed for the supposed fairer sex - a notion he found disgusting to consider.

He watched the young girl beam with joy, seeing her smile so brightly at the praise that was well deserved. She had a gift and a talent that would serve her well.

"You'll be talk of the this event, your performance was the peak of the evening."