#Romance agency

[weary-observer]

Damn, between Lisa Frankenstein, Your Monster, and Nosferatu the monster boyfriend girlies are WINNING this year.

[shaylogic]

I'm very grateful to George Rextrew for stating multiple times in interviews that gay characters are quickly over-sexualized, and he keeps bringing the focus back to the tender romance, youthful crush, and deep friendship between men. He's really trying to help expand the narrative of male relationships in how he presents Edwin on stage and in the press.

Jayden Revri and Steve Yockey have echoed and supported this spirit. I point to George here just because he receives the brunt of the gay rep questions right now.

Also, as ever, much love to Neil Gaiman for showcasing gay and trans characters across his many works because, as he said, he has gay and trans friends that he wasn't seeing represented in media of the time.

[ecoterrorist-katara]

Why I feel like Ka/taang is one-sided, despite textual evidence 

ATLA does try to convince us that Katara has romantic feelings for Aang. For example: she seems thoughtful when she realizes that Aang is a powerful bender; she’s offended that he didn’t want to kiss her in the Cave of Two Lovers; she gets jealous when Sokka says On Ji and Aang look good together.

So…what’s wrong with anti-Kataangers? Do we just lack media comprehension? 

To be clear, on their own, these gestures can indicate romantic interest. But at the same time, we have stuff like “Aang is a sweet little guy, like Momo.” We have her ambivalent facial expression after he kisses her before the eclipse, and her hedging during Ember Island Players, and her anger when he kisses her anyway. In the context of these conflicting cues, Katara’s possibly romantic reactions can absolutely be interpreted in a different way, because: 

Acknowledging a friend as a potential romantic interest is not the same as actually being romantically interested in them. (Imo this is something young women struggle with, due to a combination of romance-centrism and heteronormativity that make women feel like they should be in romantic relationships, and that boys and girls who share intimate and deep feelings for one another must be romantically into each other) 

Wanting someone to find you desirable is not the same as desiring that person. (Which is something a lot of women, especially young women, struggle with. Remember all the discourse around Cat Person back in 2017?) 

Being jealous when someone flirts with your friend is not the same as wanting to be with your friend. (Especially when you see your friends as family, or if you’re accustomed to a specific type of devotion from that friend. It is jealousy, and it is possessiveness, but it doesn’t always arise from romantic feelings) 

Growing up in a patriarchal society means that your desires are always filtered through what men want from you, sometimes in an abstract male gaze-y way, and sometimes in a very visceral and interpersonal way when a boy wants you specifically. And Katara’s reactions are just that — reactions. Reactions to what other people — including Aunt Wu, Sokka, Aang himself — have insinuated about her and Aang. She’s not really proactive in her interest in Aang: we don’t really see Aang, romantically, from Katara’s POV. Under the framework of “Katara is reacting to a romantic prospect she’s kind of uncertain about,” it is completely plausible — and indeed likely — that she would sometimes act in ways that indicate romantic interest, in addition to moments where she indicates the opposite. 

Ka/taang shippers often bring up other evidence, like Katara’s despair when Azula hits Aang with lightning, or how protective she is of him when Zuko joins the Gaang. The thing is, these pieces of evidence aren’t necessarily indicative of romantic love. The fact that Katara genuinely loves Aang makes the whole thing more complicated, not less, because — especially at that age, especially when Aang is twelve years old and grew up in a sex-segregated society of monks — it is really difficult to tell the difference between platonic love and romantic love. Their mutual devotion is layered and complex yet straightforward in its sincerity. What was not straightforward, until the last five minutes of the show, is whether this devotion on Katara’s end is romantic. The romantic arc for Katara and Aang is not really an arc, as Sneezy discusses in this classic ZK video. Katara actually becomes more conflicted over time and we never see an event that clarifies her feelings. She seems more interested in him in The Headband than on the Day of the Black Sun, and she has never been more hostile to his romantic overtures than in the penultimate episode. 

And in light of this, it’s pretty easy for fans to fill in the blanks with a different interpretation: maybe Katara’s weird expression after their kiss at the invasion means she didn’t enjoy it; maybe the kiss made her realize that she doesn’t actually feel that way about Aang; maybe against her will and her better judgement, she’s developing feelings for another person, a person who hurt her and whom she fervently tried to hate until he pulled off what is in my opinion the greatest grovel of all time in the form of a life-changing field trip. Maybe. Am I saying that Zutara has more romantic interactions than Ka/taang? Of course not. But ironically, the lack of romantic interactions means that it’s not inherently one-sided, the way Ka/taang became in the latter half of season 3.

I’m not arguing that Katara’s unequivocally not into Aang. Obviously the text declares that she is, because they get married and have kids. But I am saying that there’s a very good reason that so many people, especially women, see Katara’s interest in Aang as ambiguous. It’s not because we can’t pick up “subtle” hints of growing affection. It’s because we know not all affection is romantic, and it’s really easy for someone else’s insistent romantic intentions to muddle what you want.

P.S. I first started thinking about these topics (platonic vs romantic love, desiring someone vs wanting to be desired, etc) in the context of compulsory heterosexuality, a term describing how queer women contort themselves into relationships with men even if they’re not really into men. I saw a post a few days ago joking about why so many queer women seem to be into Zutara. I wonder if part of the reason is because as queer women, we are very sensitive to the ways in which we can talk ourselves into wanting things we don’t actually want, and Katara’s romantic interest in Aang can be easily seen that way. 

[seraphinitegames]

Hey Mishka,

If what is happening to the Detective is as big as I think is, would the agency consider stationing another unit there to both help protect the Detective and contain the situation, permanently? If so which one?

And going off of a ask you just answered, if it is Unit Alpha, would you make them romance options? Personally, I believe it would be funny for the Detective to friend zone the Vampires and date one of the Werewolves instead, and seeing Adam/Ava's face when it's revealed would be hysterical! Also, Tamiko and Lesedi (I'm sorry if I misspelled their names), would be perfect ro's for my taste in personality.

Thank you for your time and keep up the great work!

The Agency is certainly calling in some of their 'heavy hitting' units to stick around the facility in Wayhaven during the events of Book Four, that's for sure, hehe! :D

They won't all permanently be stationed in the town, but it will be a good idea to have them on call…just in case.

I wouldn't make Unit Alpha romances during the main series—writing the extra villain romance is already adding quite the intensity and workload, hehe!

But hopefully one day in another series…Same with pretty much all new characters I introduce that I end up inevitably falling in love with, lol! :D

Thank you so much for the ask! :)

choi

[thepopsicle]

Hey Fellow Ghosts, Psychics, Crows and Lovers of Love!👻🔮

There’s currently a post on Twitter by “Film updates” asking what shows we think deserves an Emmy nomination this year!

Lets get “The Dead Boy Detective Agency” in the running!

Help us flood this tweet with Dbda mentions! And don’t forget to use #deadboydetectives AND #savedeadboydetectives

If you don’t have a Twitter, please reblog this to signal boost!

And a separate link because tumblr links always come out weird HERE

[mylavellan]

I think the best marketing move they made for Dead Boy Detectives is choosing Welcome to the Black Parade as the trailer’s song. That surely woke up something in me.

[sarafangirlart]

Trojan War adaptations that completely remove the gods are so stupid as if the drama and interactions between the gods with each other and their favorite mortals aren’t literally the highlights of the story. Especially Athena and Hera, there is never a dull moment with them.

[beautification-tales]

The Typewriter

A caption Tale

Barry exited the elevator and walked to his office suite. It was his first day as a vice president of the company. He smiled as he couldn’t wait to enjoy his new office. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the hallway, and he knew his day was off to a good start. As he approached his office door, he heard a faint sound of typing. "Ah, the new secretary," he thought. He had requested someone efficient and detail-oriented, but the HR manager had warned him she was a bit...different.

He pushed the door open to reveal a young woman with thick-rimmed glasses and her hair in a tight bun, typing away at a typewriter that looked like it belonged in a museum. She didn't look up, so engrossed in her work. The office was organized in a way that seemed almost alien to Barry. Everything was in its place, not a paperclip out of line. He cleared his throat to announce his presence. She stopped typing, swiveled her chair around, and looked up. "Good morning, Mr. Grant," she said with a smile. "I'm your new secretary, Penelope."

Her voice was soft, with a hint of an accent he couldn't quite place. She rose to her feet, extending a hand. Barry took it firmly. "Call me Barry," he said. "Pleasure to meet you, Penelope." He noticed the way she blushed slightly at his touch. "Your keep things in good order," he added, trying not to sound too surprised.

Penelope's eyes sparkled with pride as she surveyed the room. "Thank you," she replied. "I find that organization helps keep my mind sharp. It's a bit of a quirk, really." Barry nodded, unable to argue with the evidence of her efficiency. Her desk was a sea of neatly organized files and a single vintage typewriter, a stark contrast to the sleek computer monitors and ergonomic chairs that filled the rest of the office.

“Why the typewriter?” Barry asked, unable to resist his curiosity.

Penelope looked fondly at the machine. “It’s a reminder of a different era. One where assistants like me knew how to serve. Don’t worry though I also have a laptop that’s connected to everything” She glanced back at him, her smile widening. “So… Barry, I placed coffee on your desk as well as your agenda. You have a meeting at ten. Is there anything else you will need today?”

Barry opened his office door, noticing the steaming cup of coffee. “This is great. Thank you, Penelope. I think that’s all I will need from you for now, thank you.” He took a sip of the coffee, savoring the rich aroma. It was just how he liked it—strong with a dash of cream.

“I’m here if you need anything sir… anything.” Penelope’s voice trailed off as Barry settled into his plush chair. He took a moment to appreciate the quiet solitude of his new office, a stark contrast to the bustling open-plan layout of his previous workspaces. The digital clock on the wall ticked away the seconds with a rhythmic steadiness, and the low hum of the air conditioning provided a calming white noise.

Penelope knocked and opened the door. “Sir, I just wanted to check if you need any more coffee or perhaps some water?” she asked, peering into the office.

Barry looked up from his paperwork, surprised to find that almost an hour had passed. “Ah, no, I’m good, thank you, Penelope. You know, you really don’t have to be so formal. I appreciate your attentiveness, but we’re in the 21st century now. You can just call me Barry, okay?”

“I’m here to serve you in every way. You seem tense… maybe a blowjob will relax you?” Penelope suggested nonchalantly, her eyes glinting with something that definitely wasn’t just a hint of efficiency anymore.

Barry’s eyes widened, his hand freezing mid-sip. “Penelope, I don’t think that’s quite what the job description entailed,” he replied, trying to keep his voice calm and professional. She frowned slightly, her expression a mix of confusion and determination.

“Sir, let me help you relax. It’s what I’m here for. Besides, you’re the boss, aren’t you?” Penelope’s smile was both innocent and knowing, a disarming combination that left Barry momentarily speechless. She took a step closer, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor.

Barry set down his coffee, his heart racing. “Look, Penelope, I appreciate the offer, but we really should stick to professional boundaries. That’s all.”

Penelope tilted her head, her gaze unwavering. “But, Mr. Grant, isn’t it a universal truth that a happy boss is a productive boss? And what better way to ensure your happiness than by offering my...personal assistance?”

The willingness of this innocent looking woman to serve him in such a blatant way was both unexpected and exhilarating. Barry felt his cheeks flush and his heart race, his thoughts a jumble of confusion and desire. The office suddenly felt much warmer, the air thick with an unspoken tension. “I know I’m not much to look at right now but I’m still very good at my job sir.”

Penelope’s eyes searched his, looking for any sign of consent. The silence grew heavier, the ticking of the clock echoing in his ears like a drumbeat. Despite his better judgment, Barry felt his body responding to her offer, his mind racing with the tantalizing images of what she might do to him.

“Mmmm let me take care of you, Barry. It’s what I’m here for. To serve you, in every way possible,” Penelope whispered, taking another step closer. She reached out and gently touched his tie, her fingertips brushing against the fabric as if to test his response.

Barry swallowed hard, his mind torn between the thrill of the moment and the reality of the situation. He knew he should assert his authority and maintain a professional distance, but the heat in her gaze was impossible to ignore. His hand trembled slightly as he reached up to cover hers. “Penelope, are you sure?” he managed to ask, his voice husky.

Her smile grew, a playful glint in her eye. “More than sure, Barry. I’ve studied every aspect of your life, from your work habits to your personal preferences. I know exactly how to make you feel...comfortable.” She leaned in, her breath hot against his ear. “Trust me, I’ll take care of everything.”

Barry’s resolve crumbled like a cookie in a vice grip. He nodded, his pulse quickening. Penelope’s hand slid from his tie to the top button of his shirt, deftly unbuttoning it. He felt the fabric part and the cool air of the office kiss his chest. Her touch was surprisingly gentle, yet firm. It was as if she had done this a hundred times before, which, for a moment, made him wonder about her past.

“I want you to imagine your ideal secretary Barry. Let me make your fantasy come true.” Her words were a whispered promise that sent a shiver down his spine. He nodded again, unable to form coherent thoughts as she continued her delicate assault on his shirt.

He closed his eyes and pictured a sexy secretary. One that he would not be able to resist. Barry quickly opened his eyes as he heard Penelope moan. He saw her sit back on his desk as she opened her legs. “Yes!! Let me make your fantasies come true!” she exclaimed, her voice now dripping with desire.

Her glasses slipped down her nose, and she took them off, revealing deep, smoky eyes that seemed to see right through him. The bun in her hair loosened, and her hair cascaded down her back. She began to unbutton her blouse, one button at a time, revealing a lacy bra.

Barry couldn’t believe his eyes. Penelope transformed into his ideal secretary. The pencil skirt was tight and hugged her new curves. The kitten heels had become elegant black Mary Jane’s. Her flat chest had blossomed into a bountiful bosom. He watched, transfixed, as she revealed her new self. The fabric of her skirt slid down her legs, revealing stockings that looked like silk.

“Oh Fuck!” Barry exclaimed, unable to hold back his astonishment. His professional demeanor had evaporated in the face of this shocking transformation. “Mmm I told you I was here to serve.” Penelope smirked, her new voluptuous figure swaying as she approached him. She bent down, her breasts spilling out of the lacy confines of her bra, and began to unbuckle his belt.

“What about my meeting?” Barry sputtered, his voice a mix of excitement and concern. “Sir, don’t worry you’ll be right on time. I’m a professional.”

30 minutes later Barry walked into the executive boardroom with a massive smile. The anxiety he had before was literally sucked out of him. The president entered and could see his newly appointed VP alert and ready to work.

“Barry looks like you are settling in to the new position.”

“Oh yes sir! I’m excited to help this company reach new levels.”

“Excellent! How about your assistant Penelope? She came highly recommended from the ‘Agency’”

“Sir she is a dream come true.”

[deimcs]

insp. by this post by @bladeofavernus ♡ / (Shauna Barbosa, Cape Verdean Blues)

AN INSPIRED DECLARATION, BARDIC COLLEGE OF FOCHLUCAN. I honestly thought my time as an artist had come to an end and all hope for further inspiration was gone. I come from months of fruitless research and abandoned music sheets, any spark of creativity flickering and dying by the time my fingers touched the strings. I was lost and couldn't find my way back home when suddenly, destiny came knocking at my door. Quite literally, I may add. I went to stay at my aunt's cottage outside of the city to see if some peace and quite would do my muse any good and I had the fortuitous chance of offering shelter to a group of weary travelers. They surely were a lively bunch and while I had fun entertaining guests after such a long time spent alone, Tymora's gentle hand came to save me under the guise of a young couple of most curious nature. A tiefling and a devil, by all means a nightmarish union if you were to give the rumors any credits and yet. They spent the night sitting quietly next to each other, letting the others take turns in keeping the conversation alive. I didn't mean to pry but I was mesmerized by the softness of their touches, the tenderness of their gaze. At some point during the night, the young man drifted off to sleep leaning against the girl's shoulder, she raised a hand to caress his scarred face with such unmistakable devotion it almost moved me to tears. It reminded me why I started composing in the first place: to wonder about the nature of simple things like love and companionship. If I ever see them again, I hope they'll know this song is for them.

[zucchinyan]

恋愛代行 "Love Agency" by Akasaka Aka 2023

[variousqueerthings]

watching this Paul Gross thing he did in the 80s (chasing rainbows) and ive been enjoying it despite the knowledge that there'd be some kind of a het love triangle thing going on and that the other two characters simply aren't that interesting, but. oh boy. is... is the woman in this constellation meant to be read as a villain???

(ME DOING A BREAKDOWN ABOUT A SHOW NOBODY WATCHED AND NOBODY WILL WATCH ✌)

PG character -- a working class man who is fundamentally good to everyone in trouble he meets, to the detriment of himself more often than not, but scraping by until he gets his big break (which he also works very hard for) and becomes the owner of a relatively successful nightclub

other two characters -- come from rich backgrounds and sort of suck him into their lives by the coincidence of the two men having been at the front in WWI and PG saving the other guy's life and consistently don't realise he's got way more working against him than they do

the lady in this situation initially dumping said other guy "to find herself" when he comes back from the war, which, fair, it's 1919, she's going to college, she wants to be sure she can make informed choices, chill enough

said lady imprinting on our working class heroic character, because he's working class. i just. cannot read it any other way. she clocks him as such at a party (that he was invited to as a veteran) straight away, insults him, throws water in his face when he doesn't take it, but simultaneously is into the whole idk... rugged unpolished nature of him

discovers a diary written during the war with poetry in it that she presumes was written by him -- steals the book and reads it out loud to her college friends and is offended that he's not flattered by this

despite numerous protests that he didn't write the poetry (and he didn't, it was written by a kid he tried to save who was later shot in front of him for desertion), she just doesn't believe him, because she desperately wants him to have the "hidden depths of a poet" or some nonsense. never mind his actual good traits -- his kind-heartedness, his tenacity, his savvy, his sense of humour, nonono she wants a Poet

also, she is a failed playwright. she writes terrible plays about things she doesn't understand (including the war), asks his opinion and is offended when he (under duress) admits he doesn't think they're very good

and now she fucking... copied down the poems without his knowledge and published them under his name with an article she wrote about said hidden poetic depths!!!! gets incredibly offended when he is upset about this, first of all with a "I thought you'd be pleased" then with a "you should be happy for me for getting an article I wrote published in a major newspaper!" (because at the end of the day it's about her)

he initially -- not knowing how to handle the situation -- goes along with it, because what do you do now? go to the publishers and say it wasn't you? out yourself in the news?? I mean??? but pretty quickly re-emphasises He Did Not Write Those Poems!

the plot then mysteriously seems to pivot into saying it was his fault for "stringing her along" because the "hidden poet" bit was the only thing she really liked about him... and she vehemently denies this (but girl, tell me one other thing that draws you to him, and you can't say because he's pretty!) and says he's hurt/betrayed her by lying. i just... don't know... if the plot... is writing her like this because she's meant to be a self-absorbed college girl who has her working class dream-boat fantasy get broken, or if it's meant to be presented as him having betrayed her. it is. unclear

and now she's threatening to write a new article about how he's a fraud. im just. waiting for the plot to point out that she's done all of this herself and she also won't suffer for any of it in the way he will...

this boy can do better than these rich kid tourists 😔

[todorokis-girl]

It's MY Body - Chuuya Nakahara x F!reader

Soulmate AU

When Chuuya Nakahara and Y/N, a member of the Armed Detective Agency, wake up in each other's bodies, they are shocked to discover they are soulmates. Navigating their opposing affiliations, they must find a way to reconcile their feelings and work together.

masterlist

The morning sun streamed through the window, casting golden hues across the room as Y/N stirred awake. She blinked groggily, feeling unusually heavy and disoriented. The bed beneath her felt foreign, the room unfamiliar. Panic surged through her veins as she bolted upright, her breath hitching. She looked down at her hands—hands that were calloused and larger than her own. She was feeling stronger, more agile, and surrounded by the masculine elegance of Chuuya's apartment, though she didn't know it was his quite yet. His hat was perched on a stand by the door, his coat neatly hung, and the lingering scent of his cologne enveloped her. She walked to the mirror, her reflection showing Chuuya's piercing blue eyes and signature red hair.

“What the hell?” she muttered, her voice deep and commanding. Familiar.

Meanwhile, across town, Chuuya Nakahara awoke in a similar state of confusion, in a world entirely foreign. He groaned, rubbing his eyes, only to find them softer and more delicate than he remembered. He sat up, feeling an unaccustomed lightness and the silky sensation of long hair brushing his shoulders. He looked down at himself, eyes widening in shock. he stood up to look at himself in a near by mirror, the reflection staring back was of a young woman with hair cascading around her shoulders, eyes wide with shock.

“Y/N?” he whispered, his voice unfamiliar and soft. "This has to be a joke," he muttered, his voice higher and more feminine.

The two spent the first few hours in a state of utter bewilderment, trying to come to terms with their new realities. Y/N, now in Chuuya's body, felt an overwhelming surge of power coursing through her veins—an intensity she had never experienced before. She struggled to control it, fearing she might unintentionally unleash his ability, Corruption.

Chuuya, on the other hand, found himself in awe of the gentle yet profound connection to nature he felt within Y/N's body. He could sense the wind whispering secrets to him, the plants responding to his emotions, and an innate ability to influence the weather. He marveled at the raw, untamed power that seemed to flow so naturally through her.

After a frantic exchange of phone calls and a hasty meeting, they stood face-to-face in a secluded alleyway, away from prying eyes. The air between them crackled with tension and unspoken questions.

"How did this happen?" Y/N asked, her voice shaky "Did you do this?" The accusatory tone, evident.

"I have no idea," Chuuya replied, crossing his arms and trying to appear composed despite the turmoil inside. "I didn't do this, But we need to figure it out. Fast."

Their eyes locked, a mixture of distrust and curiosity flickering between them. They had always been on opposing sides—Y/N, a dedicated member of the Armed Detective Agency, and Chuuya, a formidable executive of the Port Mafia. Their encounters had always been fraught with tension and conflict, but this was different. This was personal.

As they navigated the complexities of each other's powers, they began to notice subtle, inexplicable connections. Y/N could feel Chuuya's memories and emotions, his fierce determination, and his loyalty. Chuuya, in turn, experienced Y/N's gentle compassion, her unwavering resolve, and her deep connection to the world around her.

It was during a particularly tense moment—when Y/N, in Chuuya's body, struggled to control his ability—that the truth dawned on them. As she faltered, Chuuya instinctively reached out, his touch grounding her, stabilizing the overwhelming power within.

Their eyes met, and in that instant, they knew.

"We're soulmates," Y/N whispered, her voice filled with awe and disbelief.

Chuuya's eyes softened, a rare vulnerability breaking through his usual tough exterior. "Looks like it," he murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Fate has a twisted sense of humor, huh?"

The realization brought a mix of emotions—shock, disbelief, and a strange sense of completion. Despite their differences, despite the chaotic circumstances, they felt an undeniable bond, a connection that transcended their individual selves.

But the weight of their affiliations hung heavy between them. Y/N looked away, her expression conflicted. "Chuuya, we're on different sides. This—this complicates everything."

Chuuya sighed, running a hand through his borrowed hair. "I know. But maybe this is fate's way of telling us there's more to this than just sides."

As the day wore on, they learned to trust each other implicitly, relying on the newfound understanding that being soulmates brought. By the time the sun set, casting a warm, golden glow over the city, they had grown closer than ever before, their shared experiences bridging the gap between their worlds.

When the world shifted once more, returning them to their original bodies, they stood side by side, the weight of their experience settling between them.

"So," Chuuya began, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "wanna come back to my apartment?"

Y/N laughed, her heart lighter than it had been in ages. "Absolutely. Not. I'm still with the Agency."

"And I'm still with the Mafia," Chuuya replied, his tone serious. "But maybe we can find a way to make this work. The universe has spoken, and I'm not in the habit of saying no to a beautiful woman."

She rolled her eyes, overwhelmed and exasperated. "You're impossible, you know that?"

Chuuya smirked, the usual confidence back in his stance. "I've been told. But seriously, Y/N, this is... something neither of us can ignore."

Y/N sighed, her mind racing. The idea of being soulmates with someone from the Port Mafia was ludicrous, yet the connection she felt with Chuuya was undeniable. "I guess we can figure it out as we go," she said, her voice softening. "Just... don't expect me to make it easy for you."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Chuuya replied, his eyes glinting with determination.

As they stood there, side by side, the lines between their worlds blurred just a little. It wouldn't be easy, and the path ahead was uncertain, but for the first time, they felt a flicker of hope. They were bound by something greater than their affiliations—something that defied logic and expectation.

And together, they were ready to face whatever came next.

[shaylogic]

"Oi, don't wait up for me, yeah?" Charles informs Edwin, "I'll be in Crystal's room all night."

"Charles! I'm surprised at you," Edwin exclaims, looking flustered.

"It's not like that, mate--she's been having nightmares about David and I've agreed to keep her company. Said she feels safer with a friend looking after her, y'know?" He shifts from one leg to the other, one hand rubbing his other arm, absent-mindedly. "It's not a big deal, alright? Just didn't want you wondering after me." He shrugs non-chalantly and gives his partner a gentle clap on the shoulder before re-entering Crystal's room.

She's already changed into her sleep clothes and curled up under the covers. Crystal meets Charles' eyes and pats the bed beside her. With a small smile, he approaches and sits on the side of the bed, leaning on one hand and looking down on her.

"Would you like to talk before bed, or should I leave you to it?"

Seeing him only sit on the edge, she takes his hand and guides him to lay down next to her. "C'mere. Just lay with me, okay? If you don't mind. . .?"

His eyebrows raise and a twinkle of excitement crosses his eyes that he fails to suppress.

Crystal rolls her eyes at him and he chuckles. She pulls his arm over her side and holds onto him as best she can, letting out a long sigh. Charles feels a fluttering sensation in his chest, like a memory of a quickening heartbeat.

"Thanks for doing this. I'm sure it'll be less interesting than however you usually spend your nights, and I'm not much company to you when I'm asleep."

He grins, fingers attempting to brush lightly along her back. "I wouldn't say that."

She looks him up and down. "Oh, geez, you're not gonna' like, stare at me all night are you?"

"Well, I don't sleep, but I could try closing my eyes and laying here with you. Seems restful, anyway, doesn't it?" Her brow furrows, and he mirrors her expression, sobering up. "I'm not sure, uh, what your plan was?"

". . .I guess I'm not sure, either. I just didn't want to be alone in this big, empty room tonight."

"You could invite Niko across the hall for a sleepover," he teases, tempting her to explain why she chose him.

She recognizes this immediately and narrows her eyes playfully, pursing her lips, and refusing to take the bait. "You've got a cricket bat handy if any other ghosts or demons decide to pop up overnight. Niko would probably just talk their ear off and try to set them up with each other."

He chuckles. "Tough to argue with that."

. . .

After a while, Crystal's breathing slows, her chest rising and falling in smaller increments. Charles does observe this for a moment, before realizing he's doing exactly what she told him not to do. He shifts so he is staring up at the ceiling.

He can't feel Crystal's breath and warmth beside him. Without looking at her, he could forget she's there. He could just be laying alone in this bed for no reason.

He turns onto his side again, facing her and snuggling as close as he can without phasing into her. He has to focus to keep his form solid enough for her arm to rest on.

He closes his eyes and replicates breathing, concentrating on being present, and trying to remember old sensations. How would this moment feel, if he still had his body?

A cold chill runs down his core and he tries to focus on the memory of body contact sharing warmth.

While Crystal has one of the best nights of sleep she's had in weeks, Charles struggles to remember how it felt to be alive.

[arian-thedreamer]

dead boy detectives was literally made for gay boys.

A show where a princely early 1900s ghost boy and his also ghostly pretty-boy best mate, who run a detective agency with 'boy' as apart of it's name and selling point, that is 90% filled with gay pairings. There a gay missunderstandings and love triangles where no girls are involved and boys jealously compete over each other. Goodness sakes, I'M IN HEAVEN! This is the most homonormative stuff I've ever seen! This show is boy culture. MLM ARE WINNING!!!

[seraphinitegames]

Which of the ROs can do mouth to mouth resuscitation?

A and N know first aid and things.

Most agents are given a basic training in it for humans and supernaturals, but it's if they care or remember that makes a difference, lol! :D

Thank you so much for the ask! :)

[haitianempress]

Audrey overreacting about telling the Agency that she doesn't have a license:

Mikael: