#dead boy detectives head canon

[moose987]

How often do you think they have to reorganise their bookshelves?

Because you KNOW Charles is just shoving books back on in random places.

And you KNOW this drives Edwin absolutely crazy!

“Charles! Why on earth would you put supernatural beings next to our collection of Sherlock Holmes?!”

[addie-your-queen]

charles' safest place is in edwin's arms. but when i say in edwin's arms i mean he's jumped into edwin's arms, legs around his waist, arms around his neck. edwin automatically wraps his arms around charles and hooks his chin over his shoulder and charles will burry his nose into the side of edwin's neck and it is the safest he has ever felt in his entire life and afterlife. and he doesnt do it often but it is his absolute favorite thing in the entire world.

(bonis points if edwin accepts the self defense lessons but he doesn't tell charles it's actually just so he can get stronger and hold charles like that for longer)

[manicpixiedreamedwins]

What is your all time #1 God tier established relationship payneland headcanon?

Oh my god I have to only pick one??

Okay. Going to do my best here, because I have a lot of them. Here’s one I think is important though.

I think Edwin was one of the only people who was ever truly, unconditionally good to Charles in the way that he needed. He was attentive, patient, kind, and defended him (the best he could, as a ghost) from harm. This probably meant a lot to Charles, considering how he grew up. When he was dying, he tucked him in and read him to sleep death. I earnestly think that moment changed his brain chemistry and made him go “this is my person”, thus why he’s now devoted himself to protecting Edwin. Charles may not love being dead, but he has said he wouldn’t want to be dead with anyone else.

So we know he doesn’t want to be dead with anyone else. We also know he likes being close to and touching Edwin (I’m pretty sure it’s a love language for him, or at the very least some form of self soothing). He’s constantly leaning on him or in his general space, even in the first few episodes. Here’s a couple of cute moments:

Now, my HC: Charles likes to lean against Edwin and listen to him read when he’s had a long day. Edwin humors him and reads him whatever reference book he’s working with because

1. he feels some sort of way about him, even if he hasn’t identified it yet before the series

2. he’s not happy he couldn’t save Charles that night in the attic, but there’s a small part of him that feels so very special Charles would pick him over possibly heaven.

That’s it, that’s the HC

**I MISREAD THE QUESTION SORRY, I thought you meant pre-established in canon verse! I am so dumb for them lmao

[shaylogic]

Bast + Desire = Cat King?

[i-suc-at-art]

DEAD BOY DETECTIVE AGENCY SPOILERS

I identify with Charles and Edwin’s relationship so much, their qpr (queer platonic relationship) (well i generally hope it’s not forever bc i wanna see them kiss and hold hands..) is so heart warming to my cold (possibly) aroace heart, im gripping onto them with old frozen hands. You will quite literally need to kill me and then also my ghost for me to let go of them. ALSO as someone who believes so wholly in love i also identify with Nekio (who i head canon as being on the aroace spectrum) she is never given a romantic interest or seems to have interest in romance FOR HERSELF, BUT she’s is so distraught when Jenny’s date turns to disaster she thinks she needs to become a literal hermit to get Jenny to stop being mad at her and never give love advice again bc she thinks romance is dead. LIKE GURL THATS SO REAL OML

All that to say.. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE go watch the dead boy detective agency like rn bc it is so good and there is amazing representation of all types of relationships and ppl

[starfruitsomething]

inspired by this meme template

ik Esther isnt functional and also prob not a lesbian but I had to fill the square okay?

[alexrod-dbd]

Having dbd streaming in the background rn and it’s episode 8 which reminded of a headcanon I have:

When Crystal says she remembers her entire name and gives it to the boys, Edwin goes "Sorry. Your surname is… Von… Hovercraft?" and the way he says it makes me believe that somehow when he was alive, he knew someone with the same surname or, more likely, someone with that surname meant they were very high in the society, very untouchable. So when Crystal says that name, for a second he might be thinking that she’s coming from a very specific family or something.

I haven’t seen anyone talking about this scene so thought I’d give my take on it, what do you guys think about it ??

[padfoot-lupin77]

I’m sorry but we were told that ghosts can’t feel humans upon touching them, and then repeatedly shown ghosts hugging each other. And you expect me not to conclude that ghosts can feel each other perfectly fine?

Also while writing this I realized that in that scene towards the end where Crystal hugs Edwin and he says “again, a handshake would suffice”, he couldn’t feel the hug, he was just annoyed (not really)

[deadboyween]

DEADBOYWEEN PROMPTS!!

Text-version Prompt List and inspiration below the cut!

Oct 21st: Day 1 - Colours

We made sure to include a few vaguer prompts for a wider range of creative ideas!! Colours could really be anything: Niko while she's possessed by the sprites, a different character having a run-in with a similarly colourful creature, or even something that just uses colour connotations or symbolism!! Get creative!

Oct 22nd: Day 2 - Comfort

One of the non-spooky prompts for day 2. It could be the boys comforting each other after a particularly difficult case, or a character study about something they find comfort in, or even just characters having a well-deserved day off from the Horrors

Oct 23rd: Day 3 - Disguise

The obvious one here would be Charles and Edwin's human disguises, but there's so much to play with. Works could perhaps feature the group going undercover on a case, or maybe the Cat King causing mischief again with his shapeshifting

Oct 24th: Day 4 - Orbs

Okay, you just know we had to put this one in there, everyone needs more Orbwin and Chorb content in their life right? What are our favourite glowing balls of light up to now? Why are they orb-ed? Is it a willing transformation or a result of exhaustion?

Oct 25th: Day 5 - Family

Family can mean a lot of things. Blood family? Could be an introspection into Charles's family back when he was alive, or Crystal trying to reconcile with her parents, Niko's grief, Monty's relationship with Esther... Or could be found family: the group choosing one another over everyone else, forming their own bonds more important than blood. Works can encompass many different character dynamics so go crazy!

Oct 26th: Day 6 - Casefic

The group are on a case!! Works could be a retelling of one of the show cases, or maybe one from the comics, or an entirely original one. It could be a simple run-of the-mill haunting or perhaps one that runs deeper, one that affects one or more members of the agency in some way

Oct 27th: Day 7 - The Endless

In the show we meet Death and Despair, but this prompt could feature one of the Dead Boy Detectives characters meeting one or more of the Siblings. Maybe they visit the Dreaming, or have a run in with Desire

Oct 28th: Day 8 - Free Day

No prompt for this day!! Works can be anything you like, unconnected to any of the suggested themes!!

Oct 29th: Day 9 - Myths / Legends

Charles referenced Orpheus and Eurydice in episode 7 but there's so much to work with with mythology from all over the world. These works could be a retelling of a story from an ancient mythology, or imagining the characters meeting a creature from a legend

Oct 30th: Day 10 - Hell

Really getting into the Horrors of the event now. Hell is such an important part of the series, especially for Edwin. These works must simply incorporate Hell in some way. Perhaps it's set during Edwin's 73 years in Hell, or maybe another character has an experience in the place, or with one of its many creatures. Really looking forward to seeing the potential body horror with this one

Oct 31st: Day 11 - Halloween

Day 11 is the main event. For such a spooky show, there's got to be a lot of Halloween inspiration. What do ghosts even do on Halloween? Do they dress up? Party? Haunt the living? It's entirely up to you!

Nov 1st: Day 12 - Psychic

These works must involve something psychic. Whether it be Crystal and her powers, another person with similar abilities, or any other creature that really gets in the head of the characters

Nov 2nd: Day 13 - Pre-Canon

There's so much to work with before the 2023 setting of the show. Over 30 years of the Dead Boy Detective Agency, the ghosts' lives, Edwin's Hell. Even for other characters: what happened during the Cat King's first two lives? What has Esther been up to for the last several hundred years? What's the Night Nurse's job like when she hasn't got two tricky ghost detectives to deal with?

Nov 3rd: Day 14 - AU

The only rule is: put those characters somewhere else. It could be a different time period, or characters could be different in some way. What if the Alive Girls were the Dead Girls? Or Charles and Edwin were Charlie and Edith? So excited to see everyone's ideas for every prompt, but especially this one, this fandom is so creative when it comes to AUs!!

Happy creating!!

[nottheeconomy]

The beautifully dashing leader of the phantom thieves and the charming detective princess!

My take on fem shuake!!!

I like my toxic doomed yaoi but toxic doomed Yuri hits so much harder when it comes to these two

(Brainrot under the read more!)

If Shuake were girls they would be so much more volatile than canon it’s hilarious

Honestly if Akechi was born a girl instead of a boy his already terrible life would be twice as hard hahahaha

Fem Akechi would have a much harder time willingly refraining from directly murdering shido

Like canon Akechi is this close to just shooting him in the head anytime he sees him but fem Akechi would have so much more temptation to see him dead dead dead

She’s going to have to withstand his disgustingly sexist statements with a bright smile on her face as shido says things like “oh Akechi, you’re not like those other women that only serve to further this country’s great longevity through rearing the young, you’re different, more capable.” And she needs to let those slimy words go in one ear and out if she’s going to be patient enough for him to be elected first

Not to mention she’s going to experience so much more scrutiny as a public idol since she’ll be a girl

Like in canon he already has a questionable fanbase but just imagine the weirdos that’ll idolise her as the detective princess

And she’s definitely not going to be taken as seriously by people for her detective work because people would JUST WRITE HER OFF AS A PRETTY FACE!!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA JUST THE THOUGHT OF HOW MUCH HARDER FEM AKECHI HAS TO CLIMB TO THE TOP TO GET TO WHERE SHE IS!!!!!

She’s going to curate every facet of her image to make sure people takes her as seriously as possible

Her style needs to be trendy but not too trendy or people would call her vain

She needs to be careful of showing too much skin or she’ll be slutshamed

She needs to word her statements more delicately or else people would call her annoying do you see the visionnnnnnnnn

Like canon Akechi’s public mask is already so tightly wound against his face, fem Akechi’s public mask would be a full suit of armour (get it get it? Hahahahhaha)

Meanwhile! If Akira was a girl, the notion of her being a meddler when she tries to stop shido would be much stronger I think

Also I have a feeling she’s going to get harassed at shujin for having her criminal record leaked instead of how in canon everyone left Akira alone due to fear since people won’t take her assault charge as seriously

And then there’s kamoshida…eugh

So in conclusion:

I just think both of them would have so much more pent up rage than in canon hahahahahha

Like I’m sure they would’ve physically thrown hands in the boiler room of shido’s ship, like forget about the personas they’re going to throttle each other as the rest of the thieves watch hahahahahahhaa

On the bright side though I can see fem Akechi being closer to Sae and the detective princess being a role model to little girls

Hm but I have a feeling the rivalry between Akechi and Akira would feel like those early 2010s tabloid articles about how female stars had beef with each other, like it’ll be framed as something super catty hahahahaha

Man these girlies are filled with so much anger, honestly it’ll be so iconic if Akechi and Akira were written as girls but I err don’t have that much trust in Altus!

These are just my silly headcanons for fem Shuake! If you disagree with what I said it’s ok hahahahaha

[moose987]

So it’s been confirmed that the two skeletons in the opening credits are Edwin and Charles.

But let’s discuss this snapshot here. Because what platonic best bros stand pressed up against each other while one of them (Charles) rests his head back onto the others (Edwin’s) shoulder, eyebrow brushing against his jaw?! Does that look like the actions are two people with no romantic feelings for each other?

And some people have the AUDACITY to call Charles straight!

[deconstructthesoup]

Looked at my Dead Boy Detectives swap AU, decided that it could be better, and ran with it. So... here ya go.

(For those of you who need a refresher---it's an AU where Crystal and Niko are the ghosts and Charles and Edwin are the alive ones. "Dead Girl Detectives," basically.)

Crystal is pretty much unchanged from the original concept---she died in the 1920's, she was a psychic socialite with absent parents, and she acted like the quintessential spoiled wild-child while secretly being fascinated by detective stories. She died when she got possessed by David the demon, who puppeted her body around for weeks... until she finally managed to wrench back some form of control, threw both of them off of a building, and wound up getting sent to Hell. Now that she's out and living free as a ghost, she's doing her level best to leave her old self behind and be a better person---partly for herself, but also so she can prove that she doesn't deserve eternal punishment if Hell ever comes for her again.

Niko's still an anime geek from the 1990's who was an outcast in life, but her death circumstances are different. Instead of dying from the dandelion sprites, she accepted an invitation to a party in an effort to try and socialize more after her father's death... and she got killed in a prank gone wrong, trapped in an abandoned mansion that used to belong to Crystal's family. She probably would've even moved on if it weren't for Crystal showing up and helping her out, giving Niko a reason to stick around. Niko's doing better now, but she still hasn't really processed her feelings surrounding her death. (Also, her hair's still white---she just dyed it that way, and it's never changed even after she died.)

Charles is also pretty much unchanged from the OG concept---he's still an irresponsible witch who got possessed by David and lost his memories as a result---with the added detail that he's one of many incredibly powerful magical people who David's possessed, wrecked havoc with their powers, and killed, though Charles thankfully survived the ordeal thanks to the Dead Girl Detectives. Also, I'm fairly certain that Charles is not only well aware that he's bisexual and out, but he and David were almost certainly dating. Or at least hooking up.

Edwin's still a socially awkward comics nerd and shut-in, but I decided to just have him get the paranormal parasite as a way for him to get involved with Charles and the Dead Girl Detectives---though, instead of a dandelion sprite that's all about soaking up attention, it's a hornet-themed sprite that feeds on people's insecurities and self-loathing. I think that he still butts heads with Crystal a little bit, but his bookish, studious nature winds up becoming incredibly helpful to the team, and he gets along great with Niko and Charles. Especially Charles.

Now, after thinking about it, I realized that if I was going to do a four-way swap with our main crew, it would probably make sense to do the same with our supporting cast. So:

The Night Nurse---or Minerva Knight, as I've tended to name her in my AUs---is in the place as Port Townsend's resident witch, though her motives are pretty different from Esther's. She has no need for any spells of eternal youth, having stopped aging a while ago, and she considers herself the protector of Port Townsend, keeping the forces of the supernatural at bay from the mundane residents... even if that means occasionally sacrificing a child or two to keep some of the more unsavory beings satisfied. Needless to say, Minerva has a very skewed view of morality, and unlike her canon counterpart, she can't really be swayed to change her mind. She's scary.

Esther, meanwhile, is in the lovely position as the Crow Queen, a charming and campy trickster being who exists to wear fabulous, over-the-top outfits, rule over her little feathered darlings, and to be a menace to everyone she meets. Her whole deal with Crystal isn't exactly flirtatious, but it's enough to give Crystal a gigantic bisexual awakening. And whether or not Esther's really all that interested and is just fucking with her, she's a lot of fun, and she's definitely instrumental in helping Crystal realize more about herself.

Thomas (the Cat King, but we're calling him by his first name) is Charles and Edwin's landlord---the owner of a queer bakery who's having a bit of a quarter-life crisis and is therefore a bit of an asshole to almost everyone he meets. Despite how prickly he is, though, he has an energy about him that makes him automatically endearing to every single misfit teen in a fifty-mile radius, and he's less than enthusiastic about it. Deep down, Thomas doesn't really mind, because he is a pretty lonely individual (not that he'd ever admit it).

And lastly, Jenny is the Night Guard On Duty in the Afterlife Lost & Found Department---overworked, burnt out, and thoroughly cynical when it comes to the affairs of the living. She's convinced that all she really needs is the big case that'll get her a promotion to a much less stressful position, and tracking down the Dead Girl Detectives seems to be just the thing. Of course, she's not as dedicated to her job as she appears to be, and even years of working in the most depressing place in the universe hasn't fully worn her down.

And, uh, other than the fact that I'm gonna have to figure out a stand-in for Monty... that's what I got!

[fanoftheimagines]

My Breath through the Deep Water

Pairing: (pre-relationship) Edwin Payne/Charles Rowlan/Ghost!Reader

Reader Gender: AFAB Trans Masc / Non-Binary

CW: pre-canon, reader is dead, neglectful/abusive parents, chronic illness & anemia, implied periods, yearning (everyone is yearning, everyone is oblivious), discussion of spousal murder & abuse, supernatural activity, Death & Dream cameo, you can pry Y/N from my cold dead hands

Word Count: 3,098

Summary: Dying in your sleep was supposed to guarantee your spot in the Dreaming. But when you end up stuck as a ghost on the mortal plane, you go to the only ghosts who can help: the Dead Boy Detectives.

A/N: I have fallen for the dead sad bois. This show is perfect and I am attached to them now. Title from Deep Water by American Authors. The reader’s backstory is based off my chronically ill childhood. Reader is meant to be around the boys’ age. I think this probably the longest one-shot I’ve ever written, so cheers to that!

Shout out to lilacclorceta for beta reading this for me!

Masterlist | AO3 Link

--- 1992 ---

The wooden door with a windowpane stood right in front of you. You took in a deep breath – one you arguably didn’t need anymore – and walked through. There were two ghostly teenage boys inside, one sitting at the desk in the middle of the room and one fiddling with the clearly-marked cases board. A nervous ball wadded in your stomach. Asking for help was never your forte, but you were at your wits end.

“Um…” You mumbled, “Excuse me?” The two boys looked up. The one in a suit and bowtie raised an eyebrow while the one in red gave you a welcoming smile. “Are you the Dead Boy Detectives?”

“That we are!” The one in red said, before turning to look at the other. He nodded. “Come in. I’m Charles, this is Edwin. How can we help you?”

You stepped further in carefully. “I… um… I need your help figuring out why I’m here…”

Edwin – the one in the suit and bowtie – nodded and gestured to the spot in front of the desk. “Please, we’ll need to know everything.”

Charles walked around and sat on the edge of the desk, angled toward Edwin. Again, you took a breath you didn’t need. “Death never came for me and I… I have no idea why…” Charles’ face flooded with sympathy. Edwin’s remained blank. “Thing is,” you hesitated, looking over their heads as you spoke, “I know where I was supposed to go, technically speaking. But I just… didn’t.”

Edwin quirked a brow in intrigue. “And you do not have any unfinished business? You’re positive?”

“No, that’s the thing. If I do, I don’t know what it is.” You responded, looking to him.

“So, what happened?” Charles probed. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is, how’d you die?”

You sighed and looked at your hands. Death never came for you. Just another sad occurrence in your already depressing life. A sick, painful, lonely life. You’d died as you’d lived: alone. Neglectful parents combined with a severe bleeding disorder left you sickly and weak until the very end. No one rushed to help you, always taking their time to try anything. Months before any medication to help with your heavy bleeding, and months more until a single blood transfusion, losing more and more lifeblood every day. As you grew weaker, you spent more time sleeping. It’s there you discovered an escape: the Dreaming. You spent your short years stuck at home, visiting the Dreaming to help with the ache. Your friends – if you could call them that, given they were dreams – said you’d stay in the Dreaming were you to die there. It was a hopeful outlook, given your rotten luck in life.

And then you died in your sleep. You were in the Dreaming at the time. You blinked, felt a strange tug at your core, then opened your eyes to your bedroom, your pale corpse lifeless under the covers.

A lone tear rolled down your cheek as you told them your story. You quickly wiped it away with your thumb. “Sorry, still fresh.”

“Hey, don’t worry. Only natural, isn’t it? Dying alone sounds scary, I’m sorry you went through that.” Charles said.

Edwin’s face was twisted in fascination and curiosity. “Charles, a word?” He interrupted, facing Charles.

He dragged him into the closet before he could respond. Their voices were muffled through the door. You fiddled with your fingers, anxiety swelling in your throat. “I can pay!” You suddenly burst, voice just loud enough you hoped they could hear you.

Charles stepped out first and sat back on the desk. Edwin stood straight – his hands clasped all proper – next to him. “We’ll take your case.”

“Oh, thank you.” A relieved breath left you.

“Now, you said you could pay?” He continued inquisitively.

You nodded. “Right, well I inherited a collection of rare books on the supernatural from my grandmother. The books are still there. I don’t think my parents are ready to move on yet, honestly. They’re yours, if you help me.”

“Oh, brills! Edwin’s always looking to add more to his collection, right Edwin?” Charles smiled – almost smitten, if you didn’t know any better – at Edwin.

Edwin fought back a smile. “Yes, Charles, thank you.” He nodded his head toward you. “Now, let us get started.”

--- 1999 ---

“I come bearing gifts, my friends!” You smiled widely as you walked through the office mirror. A thick manila file was in your hand.

“You are aces, you are!” Charles laughed, taking the file from your hand. “Oh, look at this, old Mr. Brewer’s got some nasty skeletons, eh?” Edwin peered over his shoulder.

“Interesting. So, he caused the death of a young woman 48 years ago, and yet she didn’t seek revenge until now?” Edwin remarked before looking up at you. “Well done.”

Charles handed the file to him and swung an arm around your shoulder. “That’s a compliment in Edwin’s book, right there.” He squeezed you against him. The comforting pressure had you leaning in further.

“Thank you. I’m glad I could help.” You smiled, glancing at the pretty boy with his arm around you. “Gotta give you a reason to keep me around, right?” It was a half-joke – something frankly pitiful if you were honest with yourself.

“Nah, none of that,” he chuckled, squeezing you again, “we like you, don’t we? Besides, your case isn’t solved. Not a good look, if you ask me.”

“Yes, you’ve become a valuable member of the Dead Boy Detective Agency. We’d both be completely lost without you.” Edwin snarked, half sarcastically. “Now, did you happen to learn anything else from this source of yours?”

You smirked. “Apparently, Brewer’s nephew bought a typewriter from a seller of supernatural artifacts last year.”

“And, let me guess, she was the original owner? Oh, that’s brills.” Charles leaned over Edwin, practically resting his chin on his shoulder. His chocolate brown eyes scanned the page. “Haunted objects are practically our bread and butter.”

Your gaze rested on him for a moment before you tore it away. You dug out a scrap of paper out of your inner jacket pocket. “Yeah. My source, as you so called her, said this would help with sorting it out.” You handed it to Edwin.

He nodded and scanned it. “Wonderful, I’ll get to work on this. You two do some leg work, find out what you can about this scorned woman.”

--- SKELETONS IN THE CLOSET ---

Charles and you walked into the house. It had been abandoned after Thomas Brewer’s death. His only living family was his nephew, who didn’t want to live in the city. The only ones hanging around seemed to be Brewer himself and this unknown woman. It was dark. The windows were drawn to keep out street light. The furniture was covered with white tarps. Blood stains surrounded the single armchair in the living room. Other than that, nothing out of the ordinary.

The two of you split up. You took to the main floor, Charles upstairs. You skirted around the red-stained floor. The bookcase left of the telly was practically overflowing with books. The old man had clearly collected. And there, sitting right in the middle of the fourth shelf, was the typewriter. It looked normal, just a regular typewriter. You really wouldn’t know it was haunted by an apparently malicious ghost. You didn’t touch it – you wouldn’t hear the end of it if you did. Instead, you went to the office off the living room.

The large wooden desk was covered in a thick layer of dust. The right drawer was locked. You opened all the others. Nothing of note on the woman, unfortunately. Behind the desk, a painting of a lakefront. You pulled it off the wall to reveal a wall safe. Typical.

“Found something!” You called, leaving the room to find Charles.

He was in the main bedroom. His back was to the door as he read a leather-bound book. He tilted his head to you as you walked in. “He definitely killed her.”

“Diary?” You asked, sitting next to him.

He hummed and shifted the book for you to read too. “Her name was Mary. She was his wife.” He paused and closed his eyes. “He pushed her down the stairs when she tried to leave him.”

“Oh,” you muttered, forcing your eyes away from the book. “Then, I suppose he deserved it.”

“Yeah…” His voice dropped slightly and you could sense his anger rising. Your hand slid easy into his and gave it a comforting squeeze. His shoulder slumped against yours. His past was coming back to him – you could tell in the way his shoulders drew in and his mask slipped slightly. A solacing silence settled over the two of you. The pressure and proximity were a comfort for both of you.  

“We should go.” He eventually broke the silence.

“There’s a safe and a locked drawer we should deal with first.” You replied as you stood up. It was as if the moment hadn’t happened. And well, you were both professionals, after all.

“The client lied to us. He did know her.” Charles told Edwin. You’d returned to the office to find Edwin in a state of undress you rarely saw him – that is, without his suit jacket – knee deep in research. He was surrounded by piles of books mostly regarding object hauntings. A small smile formed at the sight. He was perfect in his own way, something that made butterflies flutter in your stomach in the same way Charles did sometimes.

You zoned out of the conversation. The two boys – your boys – were easy on the eyes. They were both so damn pretty. The kind of pretty that stalled your breath and made your heart skip a beat. And on top of that, they were the perfect duo. A verifiable old married couple if you’d ever seen one. And they made you feel more alive than you ever did before. Somehow, Death had granted you a gift. The realization was almost a shock to the system. They were your best friends, your family. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hey!” Charles’ hand suddenly waved in front of your face. “You still in there, mate?”

It jerked you out of your stupor. “Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry.” You looked up to him. His brown eyes were full of concern. “What’d I miss?”

Edwin raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. “Your friend was right. I have the spell I need to unbind Mary Brewer from the typewriter. Once she’s free, her and Thomas should be able to move on. Get ready. We leave in an hour.”

--- A WOMAN SCORNED ---

Why did nothing ever go to plan? A spectral claw dug further into your shoulder. No pain followed, but a heavy feeling of pressure followed. Mary’s elongated, horrific form screamed eerily into your face. You turned reflexively. Edwin’s voice came somewhere behind you. His Latin was just barely audible. Charles’ cricket bat thwacked the enraged spirit, but she only tightened her grip on you.

“Please hurry up!” You yelled; voice tinged with panic. “Charles!”

“I’ve got you!” He said. You could just barely hear him riffling through his bag. Mary drooled over you as she bared down on you. Then, she screamed loudly. Charles had swung on her with his knife. She reared back. Her claws released you. You dropped and scrambled. “Yeah, that’s right. Leave them alone.”

“Any time now, Edwin!”

With a final word, Mary’s ghostly form glowed blue then settled. There on the floor sat a sobbing woman dressed in sixties traveling ware. The three of you panted in relief. Edwin helped you to your feet and turned to Charles.

“You okay?”

Charles nodded, picked up his backpack, and tucked his iron knife away. “Aces, but we should get out of here. Now that she’s free, Death’ll come.”

--- CASE CLOSED ---

It hadn’t ended the way you expected, sure, but the case was still closed. The client had turned out to be a no-good murderer but you’d freed his late wife. Plus, you got paid before the case. Edwin spent the rest of the night reshelving his books. Charles smiled softly at him occasionally and busied himself with filing away the case.

You leaned against the wall, just watching them. Sometimes, you couldn’t help but wonder what your afterlife would be like if you’d stayed in the Dreaming. But times like this made you want to hide away from Death forever.

That wonderful fluttering feeling returned. An easy smile fell on your lips. And after a moment of relishing in the saccharine feeling, you gently reached to take the stack of books from Edwin’s arms. “Let me help?”

He hummed pleasantly and shifted them into your arms. “Thank you.”

--- 2022 ---

Twenty-something years later, your case was on indefinite hiatus. The years passed pleasantly. The Dead Boy Detective Agency was a shining beacon in your postmortem life. Together, you closed probably hundreds of cases.

This one was simple, but with lots of detective work. A client came in, an older woman who just wanted to know who stole her mother’s engagement ring before she’d died. Her and her family lived on the other side of town – an hour away by the tube. Of course, that meant Edwin insisted on you practicing mirror travel on your way back. To get cases done faster, he claimed. Charles smirked at him knowingly when he’d said that and you couldn’t help but laugh under your breath too.

Which led you here, in the client’s bedroom, staring at the unreflective mirror. Edwin stood uncharacteristically close behind you. His proximity made your metaphorical heart race. He gently placed your hand on the mirror. It rippled under your touch.

“Focus on the office.” He whispered close to your ear. “You need to remain focused on where you want to go. Think of the mirror as a doorway.” You took a deep breath and did as he said. Desperately not focusing on his nearness and trust, on this need to just… touch him. You did your best to focus on the office. “Now, step through.”   

You didn’t end up in the office. It was a back alley with a mirror leaning against a garbage bin. Whimpering came from a bit further in. Followed by a blue light. Dread grasped your throat. No…

“Well?” Edwin asked, poking his head out.

You quickly turned. Not him. “Death is here. Go!” You whispered, pushing him back through.

A voice stopped you from following. You couldn’t lead her back to them. Not them. Anyone but them. “Hello, Y/N.”

You turned around slowly this time. “Hello, Death. Are you finally here to take me?

She was beautiful and her face was kind. Her brown eyes sympathetic. “Do you want me to?”

You shook your head. No, that was the last thing you wanted. A man – his hair dark and wild, his eyes silver and galactic – dressed in all black walked up behind her. He felt familiar, in a similar way Death did. “Dream,” you whispered, almost reverently. He was here, somehow. Missing all those years you’d visited the Dreaming, watching as it decayed. “You’re here…”

“You know me?” His voice was smooth, reverberating deep in your chest even despite your lack of physical feeling.

“I spent years in your realm. It welcomed me when I had nowhere else.” You smiled wistfully.

Death glanced at Dream. “They can go back, if you’ll take them. They died there a long time ago.” She turned back to you. “Do you want that?”

This was it. The moment you’d wanted all those years ago. It was here. All you had to do was nod and take her hand and you could go back to the Dreaming with your friends and see its beauty like you were always meant to. But then you thought of Charles’ smile. His golden earring and Rude Boys jacket and red shirt. Edwin’s quiet concern and fancy suit. Your friends, the people you’d risked your existence for over and over again.

“No.”

Dream’s stare pierced your very being. “No? You dare deny your destiny? My realm?”

“I would have said yes, if you’d come 30 years ago. But then I made a home here, with a family of my own. And I’m happier than I ever was when I was alive or in the Dreaming.” You glanced at Death. Fear knotted in your gut. What if she took you anyway?

But she just nodded and smiled kindly. “Good, I’m glad you found your place. And when you’re ready, I will come.”

She turned to him. A moment later, he nodded. “You are always welcome in the Dreaming.”

A sigh left you involuntarily. “Thank you.”

The second you walked back through the mirror you were engulfed in their arms. Edwin – who didn’t like touch most days – held you tight in relief. Charles tugged you both close. If tears came, no one mentioned them. You sagged into their arms.

Then, Edwin slapped your arm. “Are you completely stupid?” He yelled, pulling away. His voice was high with residual anxiety.

“Easy, Edwin. They’re still here.” Charles smiled, squeezing you again before releasing you. “What happened, then? How’d you get away?”

A soft smile – saccharine and easy – graced your lips. “Death let me go.”

“What?” Edwin asked. Confusion all over his face. “That’s not possible.”

You grinned. Happiness swelled. “She said I found my place and when I was ready, she’d come for me.”

“Oh, that’s brills!” Charles laughed, picking you up in a crushing hug.

Edwin smiled – properly smiled, for possibly the first time since you’d met him. “Let’s go home then. This case can wait, what with Death around.”

Life hadn’t been kind to you. Neither had death. Then you’d met two incredible detectives. All your pain and suffering didn’t matter anymore, not really, when you had them to lean on. It still ached like a bruise on occasion. Yet you wouldn’t trade it for anything if it meant you ended up here. You’d gotten what you’d always wanted in the most unlikely of ways. You were tied to them forever now. Three souls bound together through pain and friendship. They were a safe place to rest your head when it all was too much. Just as you were for them. When Edwin had flashbacks of Hell or Charles got quiet and repressive. You don’t know what your future holds, but you knew that no matter what, you’d found where you belonged.

[marvelfilth]

Off the deep end 3 (18+)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: ghostface!Sam Carpenter x f!reader

Warnings: canon typical violence

Summary: Ghostface strikes again and you decide to take matters into your own hands

Masterlist

You're met with chaos when you enter the living room. Mindy is pacing, her hands up in the air as she explains something to annoyed Tara. Chad is talking to someone on the phone, his brows furrowed and his knee bouncing up and down rapidly. Anika sits still, her eyes locked on the TV and you follow her gaze, stopping in your tracks when you see the scene.

Ghostface mutilated two men, boys, from your class. Greg, the guy you've helped with multiple assignments is now dead, his fucking head detached from his body. Your eyes are pinned to the reporter at the scene as he continues on the details of the murder.

You fight the urge to throw up.

Sam turns you away from the TV and holds your hands tight, rubbing her thumb over your knuckles. "It's going to be okay," she whispers, "I won't let anything happen to you." She places a kiss on your open palm, and then leads it to her cheek, nuzzling.

But you're not listening. You're far too lost in your thoughts. Sam's here, with you. She was here the whole night and the day before.

Why would you ever think she'd take on the mantle of Ghostface, the very thing that almost ruined her life? It's so obvious now, no matter how hard she tries to hide it, you can see she's shaking ever so slightly. You see her jaw clench.

You see how hard she's trying to hide her emotions.

You pull her in a fierce hug, clinging for dear life, feeling her burrow her face into your neck with a heavy exhale. She's trembling with fear or rage - you're not sure.

You're forced to pull apart when Quinn bursts your bubble, phone in a hand. "My dad wants to talk to you." She glances at your joined hands, but doesn't comment.

Sam pulls away and steps away to a corner of the room, a crease forming between her brows as she listens to whatever detective Bailey has to say. You fight the urge to follow her to ease her worries.

"Are you okay?" The redhead asks.

You nod dazedly, not looking away from Sam.

"Do you want some water? You're kind of really pale," she mumbles.

You shake your head and finally look at her. "I'm fine. Do they know who did it?" You ask, gesturing to the TV.

She sighs. "No. There was only a mask."

You bite your lip, nodding.

Sam appears by your side a minute later, looking more pent up than before. "I need to go to the station," she says, giving the phone back to Quinn.

You knew to expect this, but still, your heart clenches painfully. This is really happening.

"What? Why?" Quinn asks, looking between the two of you.

Sam sighs, running a hand through her hair. You can tell she's conflicted, and the way her eyes keep flickering to the TV makes you reach out to her and grab her face, pinning her with your eyes. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"No. You'll stay here. It's safer." She looks around, her eyes lingering on Chad and Ethan. "Don't leave the apartment, okay?"

She waits for your nod and leaves in a hurry, Tara hot on her heels, and you're left to worry in the company of your friends. Mindy spews out theory after theory, each one wilder than the previous

They get positively horrifying after the fourth one, and you decide to tune her out to keep yourself from spiraling.

Ethan keeps sending you worried looks to which you always smile. The boy is way too sensitive and kind to be caught in this mess. You just hope he'll make it out alive.

"Let's go to my room," Quinn whispers, nudging you subtly.

You mindlessly follow her, eager to get away from the overstuffed room. She pushes you to sit on her bed and pulls out a bottle of cheap gin from her nightstand.

"Don't ask," she mutters.

You keep quiet and take a swing, sinking against her pillows. She joins you on the other side, throwing a hand over your shoulders.

"So what's the deal between you and Sam? You guys finally got your shit together?" She asks out of blue, taking away the bottle so you couldn't stall.

You're thankful for the distraction.

"I don't really know."

"Come on." She clings to your arm. "Give me the deets."

You laugh, but shake your head. "No deets, sorry."

She groans, pushing you away. "Fine. Keep your secrets."

You take back the bottle and take a big gulp, wincing at the taste. Quinn's eyes linger on you, but you pay her no mind, worriedly fiddling with your phone, waiting for Sam's call.

"Who do you think it is?" She breaks the silence before taking a swing.

The hair at the back of your neck stands at the way she looks at you, her eyes dark and pupils blown. A side of her mouth quirks up in a subtle smirk, but you catch it even in your inebriated state.

"What?"

"Oh, come on. You must have a suspect," she presses.

You gulp, sitting up straight. "I don't know, Quinn. I don't think any of our friends are capable of that." You shudder, looking away.

"Well, it's someone who's close to the Carpenters, that's for sure," she mumbles, putting the bottle away.

You don't like where the conversation is heading. The thought of someone close to you slicing people for fun makes your heart drop to your stomach. You think about Chad and Mindy, the way friendship with them came so easily. You think about Anika and her unwavering belief in everything that's good. You think about Ethan and Quinn, two completely opposite people who manage to make you feel welcomed, with the same crooked smile on their lips.

You shake your head. "Maybe it's different this time. Maybe-"

Your phone starts ringing, effectively cutting you off. You glance at the screen.

Unknown number.

Gulping, you look at Quinn, who looks back at you with wide eyes. It's probably the first time you see her unnerved, her hands shaking as she gestures at you to pick it up.

"Hello?" You answer.

You hear a click of the voice changer before the person on the other side speaks.

"Hello, Y/n. What's your favorite scary movie?"

×××

Each of Tara's muffled sobs feels like a stab to Sam's stomach. She tugs her sister closer, looking between the shelves to check where Ghostface is. She still can't believe he attacked them like that, in the middle of the street, and followed them to the store, killing everyone in the way.

She looks at Tara to see her own expression mirrored in the brown eyes, determined and focused.

"Sam?" Her sister mouths, to which she shakes her head, nudging her forward.

They need to get out right now.

She picks up a can from the floor and throws it with all of her might to the other side of the bodega, moving the second Ghostface turns around.

She doesn't flinch when the shotgun fires at the shelves across the room, only tugs Tara harsher, almost dragging her along. They're so close to the door they only need to take a few steps, but that means being seen and she can't afford that, so she waits with a baited breath for a perfect opportunity.

Ghostface moves almost silently, inching closer with each step. Sam knows she's almost out of time, she can see the looming figure in the crack between the shelves. She acts without thinking, pushing as hard as she can against the shelf and burying the masked figure under it.

They waste no time running away, not looking back to see if Ghostface is following them and getting the hell out of that store.

Police sirens greet them at the entrance and Sam exhales with relief, only now allowing herself to look back.

The store is a mess. The mask is left on the floor.

Her ears ring and her hand goes numb from how hard Tara grips it. Her chest heaves with each breath and all she wants to do is go back home, put on the mask and find that motherfucker.

And then a figure rounds the corner and crushes straight into them.

"Oh god, Sam. You're okay," you gasp, clinging to her. "Fuck, I thought-" that's the moment you look back to the store, your mouth dropping open at the sight. You jump back then, looking them both up and down until you're certain they're fine.

"What are you doing here?" Tara asks, her voice wavers. "How did you know?"

You look back at Sam, your eyes wide and watery. The anger in her chest gives way to something warm and tender, and she doesn't resist the urge to scoop you into her arms and drown in your comforting scent.

"I got a call," you hesitantly speak up, voice muffled against her jacket.

"No, we got a call," her sister's voice hardens as she rises to her towering five feet and zero inches.

"Tara, there's no need for this," Sam butts in, pulling away a bit and putting an arm around your shoulders. She senses the change in her sister, the way her shoulder tense even more, the way her eyes stay rooted to yours. "She just got here."

Tara's eyes snap to look at her sister. "And how did she know where to go?"

"Ghostface told me. Tara, I swear." You don't dare to look away from her. You need her to believe.

She nods tersely, but suspicion lingers in her eyes. You sigh in relief. That's all you can ask for.

You turn in Sam's arms and burrow your face into the crook of her neck, adrenaline finally leaving your body as tears start to roll down your cheeks.

You were terrified.

"It's okay. We're okay." Sam reassures, enveloping you in her arms.

You nod, choking on a sob and cling to her even more. Her hands circle your waist, pushing you snug against her as she whispers sweet reassurances into your ear. Tara steps back, her eyes narrowed as she keeps glancing between you and the store.

"Sam." Detective Bailey comes from behind her, making you jump in surprise. "I need you to come to the station with me." His tone is apologetic, but firm. He waits for Sam to nod before walking away to speak to other police officers.

"Go home, okay? I'll get back as soon as I can," she whispers against your temple.

You grip her tighter, but eventually nod.

×××

You wake up to the sound of your alarm. You open your eyes slowly, blinking against the rays of sun that managed to sneak past the heavy curtains, and curse when you realize it's already morning.

So much for staying up and waiting for Sam.

Sighing, you check your notifications and groan when you see thirty texts from Mindy. You text her to let her know you're on your way, putting on some fresh clothes and hurrying out of the door, already late to your class.

You spend half of the day dozing off, empty space next to you signaling that Sam and Tara are still at the station.

"What the fuck, Y/n? First you run out the door like a maniac, and then Tara and Sam get attacked at a bodega. Where were you?" Mindy asks the second you get close enough to hear her, and pulls you along to push you down on one of the benches in the park, Chad glaring at you from behind her shoulder.

You take a moment to respond, gulping at the outright murderous look on Mindy's face. "When Sam left I got a call from Ghostface," you start, and Mindy already opens her mouth to give you a piece of mind, only stopping when Anika tugs her down on her lap. "You probably know the script by now, but they said… well, they said they know Sam's secret and she's going to pay for it, like, right now. So I ran to warn her because she wouldn't pick up her phone, and when I got there it was already late. Ghostface left, but Sam and Tara were fine, thank god." You shudder at the memory.

It's quiet for a moment as Mindy contemplates your answer. "What secret?"

You wince, knowing you're probably a suspect now. "No idea."

Mindy blinks and then nods to herself. "Congratulations, dear Y/n, you just dethroned Ethan as my top suspect."

"Why am I a suspect?" Ethan shrieks, looking up from his book.

"So she's your suspect just because she got a call? Solid evidence." Anika mumbles, earning a withering glare from Mindy. "Babe, I appreciate your input, but it's totally not needed, I'm the expert here."

You sigh, but decide to stay quiet for your own sake. Whatever you say will undoubtedly make you even more of a suspect in her eyes anyway.

You check your phone, biting your lip at the lack of messages from Sam. Quinn looks over your shoulder, a smirk pulling at her lip when she reads some of your texts. You elbow her harshly and she rolls her eyes, scooting away from you.

"Y/n."

You jump up, face heating up when Sam pecks your cheek. You face her slowly, raising a knee to your chest. "Morning, Sam. Tara." You try to smile, but all you can manage is a grimace.

She looks tired, dark circles under her eyes tell you off the night spent in the interrogation room and you wish you were there with her. She moves slowly, looking you up and down. "You-"

"No need," Mindy swiftly interrupts the older girl, jumping up to her feet and pushing Sam and Tara to take a seat. "The interrogation has been taken care of."

Sam rolls her eyes, but doesn't say anything else, nudging Ethan to switch places with him. She settles, sighing deeply and leans on your shoulder, closing her eyes. You bite back a smile, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Did you get home safe?" Tara asks, voice laced with suspicion.

She looks even worse than last night, her hair a mess, her eyes tinged red. You're ready for her to chew you out, no doubt she spent the night overthinking your every word.

You gulp, feeling Sam stiffen. "Yeah."

"So you get a call, they tell you exactly where to go and then you appear right after Ghostface leaves, when it's safe. Convenient," she grumbles, shaking her head.

"Can you leave her alone?" Ethan exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. "She's your suspect, we got it. Let's just move on."

Quinn nods, "You should've seen her face when she got the call. I thought someone died or something."

Tara sends you one last shrewd look before huffing and crossing her arms with a pout.

You curse yourself for being so stupid yesterday.

Sam's lips brush against the crook of your neck, muttering, "She'll come around, don't worry."

You nod stiffly, nose burrowed in her soft hair. Her lips leave a quick peck on your shoulder before straightening up and poking you in the ribs teasingly. You can't help but admire her strength - she was attacked mere hours ago and now she's back to her usual self.

Either her therapist is working overtime or she's found some way to let all that pent up anger out.

"You're protecting her, how sweet," Mindy coos before schooling her features into her best bad cop look. "What a coincidence that you two are my suspects too. Ethan. The shy and dorky guy who no one suspects because he's so shy and dorky. And, oh wait, you're awfully close to my main suspect." She rolls on the balls of her feet gesturing wildly, as she goes off on a rant.

It goes on for ages, making Ethan uncomfortable and squirmy.

"Mindy," you butt in, yearning a glare from Tara, but it gets her to stop and finally move on to the next suspect.

Quinn.

You stay quiet this time, listening to every word Mindy says. You've had this nagging feeling about the redhead ever since you saw that smirk on her face. It still sends shivers down your spine.

Sam notices the way you seem to shrink into her and sends you a questioning look, but your attention is on Quinn.

Mindy mentions something about cops and you perk up. "Why is your dad on the case?" You hurriedly ask.

Mindy's mouth snaps shut mid sentence, but she seems to appreciate the question, turning to face Quinn properly, hands on her hips.

Quinn rolls her eyes with a huff. "You think I know? It's literally his job, but he probably did it to keep an eye on me."

Mindy shakes her head, musing about the conveniences of having a cop dad. You tune her out, basking in the warmth of Sam's embrace. She smiles softly, and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. In this moment, no matter how short, you feel blissfully content.

When Mindy is finally done with her rant, Anika reminds you of your last class, speaking softly so as not to ruin the moment. You groan and untangle from Sam, making the older girl pout. Your lips meet in a chaste kiss before Anika finally tugs you away, too afraid of your new professor to be late.

You look back one last time to see Sam angled to your friends, giving them a piece of her mind by the looks of it.

It's not until you're done with your last class that Tata finds you in one of the halls.

"Y/n! Wait," she calls out, jogging to you.

You fiddle with your fingers, not really prepared for the conversation that's about to take place.

"God, you're fast," she gasps, using your shoulder for support as she bends over.

She takes her time getting her breathing under control and her hand feels scalding hot on your shoulder, making you squirm uncomfortably.

Finally, after a long moment, she looks up, a guilty look on her face, "I'm sorry," she starts, worrying a strap of her backpack. "For earlier. For accusing you and being a bitch."

You want to protest - you don't think she was being a bitch - but she stops you with a pointed look.

"Let me apologize." She waits for your nod before continuing. "You didn't deserve us jumping you like that, it's unfair to you. I just… It still hurts, you know? My best friend made a pin cushion out of me, and this situation is just a big fucking reminder. Because… you're my best friend, okay? You're like a breath of fresh fucking air and I love you for it, but every time someone gets attacked my brain just immediately goes to the worst case scenario and I can't help it." The words rush out and there's a steady stream of tears running down her cheeks. You desperately want to pull her in a hug, but she has your hands in a vice grip, keeping you in place, needing you to listen. "But I don't want to lose you. Not to Ghostface, and not because I was too afraid to trust you. So please, please, don't hurt me, okay? And don't hurt Sam. Don't you dare hurt Sam."

You barely manage a shaky nod before you're pulled in a bone crushing hug. You hold her close, blinking away tears as she cries freely into your shirt, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.

"I promise," you whisper, a plan already forming in your head.

×××

In your defense, you've sent Sam a text the second you stepped inside your apartment.

Bailey called later in the evening, apologizing profusely and claiming he needed her at the station again. She left only after you promised her you'd stay home this time, no matter what. As expected, Tara went with her, leaving you with Quinn who invited yet another fling to the apartment.

So you took your chance and rushed to your place. You did cross your fingers when you made that promise, after all.

You don't want to unnecessarily worry Sam and you're sure she won't be able to read the text until she's done at the station, so you hide a knife under one of your cushions and settle on your couch to wait.

You're sure Ghostface will show up.

You ignore the rising panic in your chest. You know you have to do this for your sake and for the sake of your friends, no matter how scary it is.

You've had an urge to do this for weeks, but you were never brave enough, preferring to stay in the safety of Sam's room. Now it's necessary. Now it feels like your only option. And your conversation with Tara only spurred you on.

You don't know how many of them there are, but you know that the one you need will show up sooner or later.

Minutes tickle by and you grow restless, shifting unnecessarily and looking at every visible corner, jumping up every time a car passes by your apartment.

Eventually, your exhaustion from the night before spent running around and panicking catches up to you and you nod off, falling into a deep sleep on your fluffy couch.

You wake up to continuous tapping against your coffee table.

You yawn and rub your eyes, before groaning and stretching your stiff neck. You blink, adjusting to the darkness in the room, your hand nudging against something sharp, and that's when you fully wake, jumping up in alert and grasping the knife in a tight grip. You slowly turn to face the source of the sound.

Ghostface sits on the loveseat, her legs crossed and her posture entirely relaxed as she playfully taps her knife against the glass of your coffee table.

You take a second to gather your courage and lunge.

_________________________

Literally Sam when R did that:

[descendantsramblings]

Just a short cute thing where Fem! Reader and Maleficent are dating and Mal just loves teasing her gf by turning into her dragon form in small

Pure fluff, thank u :>

“Short cute” is speaking my language rn. So glad to be back to writing long stuff but between these and writing a layout for a Dead Boy Detectives fic I needed a good head canon or Drabble 🖤

Also I wrote and edited this whole thing while on the clock at work so forgive me if something is a little odd, I HATE typing on mobile because it’s easier to get typos.

Play

Maleficent x Reader

Pronouns used: she/her/hers

Summary: watching her girlfriend study can get just so boring

Warnings: descriptions of Maleficent turning into a dragon but it’s really nothing (at least as a horror and body horror fan it’s absolutely nothing but I’ll warn you just in case), fluff

Word Count: 1.1K

Pic because finding gifs of my girl (who’s almost always background or literally on Hades lol) is so hard

She can’t say no one warned her. Of course, Maleficent thought her girlfriend hung the sun, she was humanities own light source. All aglow when she was excited and warm enough that the dark fae was constantly convinced she had a fever. She was obsessed with her, but that doesn’t mean the rest of her friends lied when they said dating a hero kid could get so boring. Not that (Y/n) in general was boring, it was actually pretty easy to get her running around with the villains, but when she felt like being good? She could get obnoxiously good. Like straight As helping out in soup kitchens type of good. Which if the pixie was honest, she found that side of her girlfriend extremely endearing. Sometimes she even wonders if that sweet half of her is what saw Maleficent as worthy for her. Not that she’d ever admit to that out loud, it would wreck her image. If the fact that she could watch the girl complete mundane tasks in complete infatuation didn’t already kill her image. Or at least she normally could watch her like that.

The girl had been studying for an hour, rewriting her notes in a decorative and color coded way that she swore made it easier for her to study. “Rewriting it makes me think about it harder, Mali. Engraves it into my memory.” It sounded like an excuse to her, seemed to her that the girl just liked to look at pretty things. Not that she minded, whatever she wanted to do was fine by her, (Y/n) was her own woman. And Maleficent loved to be the pretty thing she was looking at, so who was she to complain about other ones? But Mali was starting to wonder if she and Tinkerbell had something in common. If she didn’t get her girlfriend’s attention soon she was sure she’d just fall over and just die. She was growing weaker by the second, she was positive of that. And getting the girl’s attention away from swirling pretty calligraphy into a notebook was proving to be impossible.

Every nuzzle to her neck was met with a playful push. Kissing her face just earned the pixie a “Mali, doll, I’m working.” It was infuriating. Why let her in if (Y/n) only planned on ignoring her? Her pale arms make their way around the princess’ waist, face falling against the girl’s back with a dramatic sigh. “I’m almost done, Doll. Just two more pages.” Two more? That won’t do, she needs more attention now. “Come on,” she drags the word out pulling away from her girlfriend with a whine. “Since when are you so good?” “I’ve always been good, Doll. You’re the villain between us, remember?” She uncaps a different pen, readjusting the notebook before her. “You don’t seem so good when you’re out running around with me and the other VKs. You ask how high when Uliana says just just like Morgie does.” It gets her a hum, pen tapping against the page in the speedy pattern. “Yeah well, if I make Uli happy she’ll do my hair. No one else here can braid like she can.” Mali laughs, “Fine, then if we can’t cuddle, let’s go see if she’ll do your hair. Give me something.” “I’ll be done soon.” She scoffs, lightly smacking the back of the girl’s shoulder, “You said you were doing homework.” (Y/n)’s eyes roll, sparing the girl a look over her shoulder, “Studying is homework, Mali.” Now her eyes roll, throwing herself back on the bed, “This isn’t studying. Studying is reading over notes, this is some other thing.” She hums, “Maybe that’s why my grades are higher than yours.” It’s a playful remark, the girl poking her tongue out at the pixie before turning back to her work.

She wants to play? Okay, they can play. She cuts a look to the girl, a pen cap held loosely in her mouth as she delicately drags a pen brush across a page. She was distracted enough. Turning into a large dragon took far too much energy from her, but a small one? One that could fit right in the girl’s lap? That was easy. Maleficent could barely feel it as her bones gave way. Shoulder blades and vertebrae stretching out to form the structure of wings. Purple scales forcing their way through pale skin, tearing their way into veins to beseen. She hasn’t let wings of any kind come out in so long, it felt heavenly. The stretch making her suppress a whimper. She desperately needed to do this more, instead of just when she felt the need to harass her way into getting what she wants.

Slowly, careful not to make too much noise, she flaps her wings, once, twice. By the third time, when she realized the sound wasn’t alerting (Y/n), she knew she could take flight. Fluttering through the dorm, she lands on the girl’s dresser, blowing a small puff of flames onto a candle then settling beside it. Waiting, glowing green eyes trained on the girl who had playfully become her prey. The smell of smoke would alert her, it always did. Lilac and smoke slowly and softly fill the air, making the princess look up, worried eyes glancing around the room before landing on her dresser. “Really? You’re that desperate for me?” Desperate? No, she was anything but that. While her eyes are away from the page, Maleficent takes flight again, swooping up the pens the girl was using before fluttering over her head.

“Mali, you’re just prolonging how long it will be before I can lay back and cuddle with you. You know that, right?” Her hand shoots up for her pens and the dragon flies closer to the ceiling. “This is ridiculous, you are being ridiculous.” Pens clatter into the wastebasket by the girl’s desk, the dragon swooping in to fill the girl’s lap before she can get up to retrieve them. “Are all fae this needy or just you?” The question is met with a nuzzle against her stomach, the dragon refusing to get too close to her skin in case she’d scratch the delicate stretch of flesh.

Sighing, the girl closes her two notebooks, pushing them to the side before she lays back. “If I take a little study break will you let me finish my work without whining?” The dragon crawls up her stomach, tilting her head to the side. Sweeten the deal. “If we cuddle?” Letting out a sigh, Mali curls up on the girl’s chest, her head laying just so close to her heart she feels as if she’s hearing the lubb-Dubb of it in her own head. “You’re not gonna turn back into a girl for me? Made you wait so long that I only deserve scales?” It’s not a complaint, not a real one at least. Her nails digging into the space between two wings, a glorious scratching sensation that makes Maleficent’s eyes lull closed. She was never above playing if the Royal wanted to play. She was always the winner of the girl’s long games.

[livmadart]

So I've been rereading your Phantump Conan au and it's taken over my brain. I love the idea of Shinichi's Pokemon Mom Haruna she's so cool. The boy really does just collect parental figures. Does she visit Shinichi even after he starts living with Ran? I think it'd be nice if she just came by every once in a while to check on him. And even after he turns back/gets revived does she still look after him? I have the mental image in my head of a wild Gengar just popping up at crime scenes and fussing over Shinichi and the police just accepting that she's basically his Pokemon, even if he never catches her. She teams up with Sherlock to make sure that Shinichi actually takes care of himself.

Also, how do the Ran Suspicion Arcs work out in this au? Be ause Shinichi's dead, and I don't think Ran's just going to accuse a pokemon of being her dead friend even if it's a ghost type. Maybe she stumbles upon a research paper or something while on an internet dive about Ghost Types, the specifics of how they form (with Phantump as an example for the age thing) and that the majority don't remember anything about being human beyond a few flashes or fuzzy memories at best - and then compares it to how Conan gravitated towards things Shinichi liked and puts two and two together? It might end up similar to your babified Shinichi AU (another fantastic au), where she's convinced he doesn't remember anything, but unlike that AU she's not actively trying to bring his memories back because hes... dead. There's nothing she can do to fix this, not really. The most she can is bring home mystery novels and put detective shows on the TV and do her best for the small remaining piece she has of her friend without breaking in the process.

Sorry for the wall of text, my brain got away from me...

Hi!! No worries about the wall of text I absolutely LOVE to hear all these thoughts!! I think Conan deserves a funny ghost pokemon mom and im glad you agree ^_^ though I believe it was @thornrose270 who named her Haruna :) but I definitely see her coming to fuss over him even in post canon!

And before they rescue jirachi, while he is still thoroughly Pokémon’d, I was considering a case where Conan and Heiji investigate a killer who’s tied to an older cold case…her own…

As for Ran’s suspicions, I think that’s exactly how it would play out! Or she speaks to a medium who just can tell…or Hakuba figures it out and he’s not that good at keeping a secret lol…many possibilities :)

Thank you for enjoying my work, and thank you for your ask!