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frodopotter7 · 2 months ago

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The memories of Edwin Payne

(Or an interactive fanfiction)

Note: I had the headcanon that Edwin‘s notebook contains all his personal writing including the writings from his life as an Edwardian boy. So I wrote those entries in his notebook. Now this book is obviously all of Edwin‘s personal thoughts and I thought it would be fun to do a collaboration. So if you are a writer yourself or creative in any other way, feel free to use this entries as a starting point for another fanfiction. For example Charles finding the notebook and reading it or Crystal reading it or anything else. The only rule that I set is that you clearly mark my text and tag me, because first of all it was a lot of effort to write it and secondly I want to see what cool things you came up with. And if you don’t want to creatively interact with this fanfiction, then you can obviously just enjoy it by reading it.

Summary: Edwin Payne‘s most treasured item is his notebook, because it contains so much private information that no one else knows about him. Not even Charles. Including the struggles of a posh, gay, autistic Edwardian boy and his times before hell, in hell and shortly after hell.

Triggers: bullying, implied suicide, dolls

Shipping: Payneland, but you could also include other shipping in your part

The song that I thought of while writing:

One of Edwin’s most treasured objects was definitely his notebook. He had it all the time and he used it for every case they had. It meant a lot to him, since it was with him when he died. It was with him in hell and it was with him in his detective career. The reason why he never gave it to anyone, not even Charles, was that it had been with him even as a child. Well, back then he had several notebooks, but as he died every personal writing of his got transferred into it. The notebook always had enough pages and was still not getting thicker and his pen was always full of ink. And still even though it contained so many different notes, Edwin navigated through it without any problems. It was his own writing after all. His family sigil was carved into the black front cover and the word ‘Payne’ was written underneath it.

If anyone would open it and tried to start from the beginning, he would be greeted with Edwin’s signature under the printed words. ‘Family member:’ After that the handwriting would be harder to read. Scribbly, crossed out spelling mistakes and spilled ink from a little boy, who was writing for the first time. If you manage to identify the words it would read:

1905

Greetings,

my name is Edwin Payne. I am the only child of the family Payne. My father says, that mother wanted more children, but just failed every other time. You probably have heard about my family’s name. The family with the best lawyers of England. When I’m grown up, I will be a lawyer too. Lawyers are like detectives says my father. I like that. I like detectives.

My nanny told me to interact more with others. Why would I need to talk if there is no one to talk to anyways? My parents are often absent and my nanny is just not understanding me. My father says that I am too slow for my age. My motion skills too clumsy. My spoken words only contain information from detective books and I cannot properly respond to people yet. I know a lot of novels by heart though. Others just don’t seem to like talking about crimes as much as I do. Father sometimes lets me have a look in his older cases. They are interesting.

We visited a doctor again today, because of my slow development. We visit him quite often. Actually since I can remember. I don’t feel sick. He says there is nothing wrong with me. Still I know that something is wrong. I overreacted at loud noises. A lot of things stress me out.

1906

I haven’t writing about Cordelia Primrose Surname-von-Hovercraft. She is annoying, loud and a restless soul. She runs around the house and breaks rules just to get the attention. She is a bit younger than me, but that doesn’t justify her actions. I don’t like her. Although sometimes she be helpful. Like the time she stole the biscuit jar and gave me one of the special biscuits. They had to expel one of her nannies for this. But Cordelia had plenty nannies anyways. No one stays long with her. I had my nanny since I was born. I don’t like changes. Cordelia sometimes scares me with ghost stories. She says she would see them and that my fortune says that I will die a painful and early death. I don’t believe in this unscientific nonsense.

I take piano lessons now. It’s is fun. My mother seems to enjoy it. It is somehow the only way to get her attention for me.

Additionally to my regular private lessons I go to school now. Simon obviously needs to be in my class as well. I don’t like him. He bores me and he is too clingy. And sometimes he says mean things to me.

I had an outburst in class. Everything was just so loud and I was frustrated. The teacher hit my finger with the ruler and send me in the naughty corner. I don’t see why I get punished, when the other boys are clearly the distraction. Overall I am a good student. So it will probably not affect my grades.

My favorite subject is Latin and literature. I love books and translating old languages. It is like solving a code or a riddle. I don’t like maths, since it is all just numbers and no words.

1907

I had another outburst in class after Simon tried to touch me. He kept tapping my arm and I don’t like that. The teacher called a nurse, but I was too overwhelmed to respond to any of her questions to my health. I wanted to go home and I told her that again and again, but she didn’t understand. They called a priest. He said something in Latin. I think, it must have been biblical words. I tried to focus on translating them, but there was so much panic around me that I barely focused on anything. But I managed to calm myself after what felt like hours due to exhaustion.

My parents had a talk with the priest. He says that I am possessed by a demon. So now he straps me to a table and mumbled something in Latin again and again once a month or whatever I have an outburst. The robes around my wrist hurt. I am afraid. It is scary to know that there is something inside of me.

1908

I hate being possessed. Although I start to doubt that I have been in the first place. I did some research in the library and the real demonology books aren’t describing my symptoms. Even Cordelia, who usually always tells spooky stories, agrees with me. She said, if I was possessed she would have been the first one to know. She is a mystery to me.

1909

Today I saw a nice looking man across the street. I told my nanny that he looks like a basket full of oranges. My father uses that term a lot when he talks about young women, so I thought it is just a term to use if you think someone looks nice. She gasped and hit me lightly with the newspaper. It didn’t hurt but I didn’t understand what I was doing wrong. She told me that a man cannot say that to another man. I guess the saying is reserved for women then.

1910

I started to mask my uncomfortable feelings in public. It is difficult, but it helps. My parents and the priest both think that I am healed.

1911

I got called a Mary Ann for the first time. I asked my nanny and she started to mumble to herself how she must have failed. I told her that she did a really great job, since I would consider myself very well behaved and educated. She ignored me and told me to not tell my parents. How should I tell them if they are never there in the first place?

I did some research again, which mainly was asking Simon. I know, getting down on his level is a hard sacrifice. He told me that a Mary Ann is a boy who behaves like a girl and isn’t manly enough so they love other men. I thought about that for a long time. What is it about me that makes me a Mary Ann?

The writing in the book started to get better and appeared way more elegant. You could find little drawings here and there. Edwin was quite a good and realistic artist. Drawings of flowers, buildings, his nanny, his mother or Sherlock Holmes.

1912

Mother is constantly coughing loudly. It is irritating. Not even cocaine will help. They don’t let me in her room. They fear I would catch it too. Not that I was ever close to her before.

Mother is in a special hospital now. She took the train far away in a hospital in the mountains. No one ever returns from there. I know it. Everyone does. I will not see her again.

Mother died of tuberculosis. I miss her, I guess. I don’t know what I miss. It is a change. I hate changes.

1913

Father is sending me to a boarding school for boys. He says it’s for my education. I know, he just wants to get ride of me.

I hate the new school. Simon is here and people are still calling me a Mary Ann. Simon started to join them. I guess he sees it as a new opportunity to mock me.

I take fencing lessons now. It is nice, since it is not required any sort of touch with other boys. Nothing that I can be blamed for.

1914

I found a hideout in the school attic. It is a great place to read in peace.

The world has started a war. It worries me. They tell us that we are save in the school. But in the end all you can do is pray.

I came back home on Christmas. My nanny was gone. Father said they would be no need for her any longer, since I am in school now anyway. He looked like he knew something, but wasn’t going to tell me.

1915

The next page had some blood drops on its pages.

I want to go home. I want to be back in my room with my detective books. I want to be healed from this darkness inside of me. My nose is bleeding from another attack by the other boys. They started to get more violent now. Simon isn’t joining them, but he watches.

I came home on Christmas, but it wasn’t my home anymore. Just a house. My father didn’t speak a word. I asked him, if it was about the war and he looked up towards me. I could feel his cold gaze from across the table. He took out a letter and slammed it on the table. It was from my headteacher. I was confused. I am class best and the best behaved student in class? The only reason why I get to stand in the naughty corner is if I got caught reading in my comics or books. In my defense I am usually already finished with the exercises if I read in class. What could possibly be a problem with me? The letter was about the other boys calling me Mary Ann. And that they didn’t wanted a boy like that in their school. That I should stop whatever was wrong with me. My father told me in his absent voice, that he was not having a son like that either. He had exchanged letters with the headmaster for quite some time now and I didn’t seem to get better. I asked him that I had no idea. He interrupted me as always. Told me that the only way to make me a man would be to send me to war. I started to cry and he continued holding a speech about heroism and that his generation had understood this so much better than mine. I am too young for war, he knows that too. He told me that the only thing rescuing my life is my good grades. He sees potential in me as a lawyer. He has talked to the Surnames-von-Hovercrafts they agreed that I should marry their daughter as soon as possible. I mean I knew that I would be married to Cordelia one day, but not already when I turn 16. That’s only some months away.

As the train brought me back to the boarding school and as I saw my father standing in the doorway of the house with his usual expressionless face, I knew that this was the last time I would see him and that he wished to rather have no son than me. I just knew it.

1916

Simon stole my hat. I wouldn’t mention this minor form of his bullying, if it hadn’t been a special hat. My mother and I bought it, when her disease hadn’t been noticeable. It was too large back then, but it suits me now. Or rather suited. I don’t think I will see it again as Simon comes up with the best ways to either destroy or hide it. I cried about it. Childhood is over, but honestly I don’t think it ever started in the first place at least not for me.

The numbness is spreading inside my body. I think about the military and the forced marriage daily. I am too young for this. I cannot even properly cope in a classroom. How am I supposed to cope in the war? My hands are to soft. My brain is too precious. Please, spear me. They won’t. It is just a question of time.

I went to the lake today. It is spring and still fairly cold, but I went inside non the less. It was cold. Ice cold. I went under water and yelled out some poetic nonsense. I thought about staying under water. Turning into Ophelia. But I reminded myself, that this is something a coward would do. A Mary Ann. I would proof everyone’s suspicions as correct. Scared to live. Scared to die. I got out of the water. My gaze landed on my clothes and the letter. My father had written me that the marriage would be held in some days, since I am 16 now. I ripped the paper in half and tossed it into the ocean. Letting the water destroy the writing on the paper. Of course this would make nothing undone. I would still need to marry. I would still need to go into the military. I would still need to die. I am frightened. The other boys seem unbothered. They laugh and play like the world isn’t ending around us. Well, their world is probably not ending anyways. They will live. Their parents are rich after all. They have the privilege. I would have had this privilege as well, but they took it from me by putting this name on me. I took it from myself with my impure thoughts.

Cordelia sent me a telegram that just read that I would need to be careful as death was approaching me in the worst way. I hate her for that. As if I wouldn’t know that. As if I wouldn’t know that I needed to go into the army soon. Not a single word about our forced wedding. I thought we had always agreed to both be against it. But then again she isn’t even trying to love me. Not that I would try. Not anymore. I tried when I was younger, because I was told to. But Cordelia has just no idea how to react appropriately to a gentleman. Her behavior makes it hard to believe that she is from such a high rank.

I saw Simon with a weird book today. He told me it is from his brother and that it is about demons. I told him that this was total nonsense and that he should get a grip on reality. He didn’t spoke to me again after that. Weird for someone who is as annoying as him. I am going to put my notebook in the pocket of my sleeping clothes tonight just to make sure Simon cannot steal it. I have a bad feeling in my stomach. My heart is aching for absolutely no reasons. I am afraid as I try to sleep tonight and the worst thing is that it is irrational. I am going to die alone, this is all my head produces right now.

Now every page was covered with blood at the side of the pages and sometimes even on the writing itself. There were no drawings to be found anymore. Just drawings for the escape plan and hierarchy of hell.

I don’t know if my dates are correct. I don’t know how time works in here. I don’t even know how long I am able to write without this thing waking up. This thing with the many doll heads. This spider like creature that kills me every time I move or make a sound. I sometimes wonder what happened to the other boys.

I try to change my perspective. It is hard when you are in so much pain. My brain learned to be sharper now. I can think and act quicker. I need to see this as one of my old detective games or as the times that I had to run away from my bullies. Everything is achievable with logic. Although I would say after being in hell for such a long time that might be a delusional optimism.

1988

I think I made it out fairly well. I am still uncontrollably shaky when I hear any noises. I fear that this demon might comeback to get me. I am back in the old school attic where they strapped me down on the table and sacrificed me. I learned a lot from hell and from the books in the attic. Like the basic ghost rules or that my death and the death of my bullies were labeled an act of god. I compared hell to the war a lot. After all I would say that hell was definitely the worse death. Much longer torture than war would have been. In the war you die just one death after all. But maybe a Mary Ann like me would have ended up there anyway.

I finally was brave enough to get out of the attic. I figured out that the year is 1988 from a newspaper that one of the teachers was reading. 72 years of torture. I wonder how often I was torn apart in this time. But I shouldn’t think about that. That reminds me of the pain and of the times when I tried to count my own corpses. The school hasn’t changed a lot. The teachers are less violent, but still rather strict. They have more lower class people here now. I can see it by the ways they behave and by the clothes they wear. That is especially confusing for me. So rude, so explicit, so freely. It is not a boarding school anymore. Luckily that gives me the freedom to have my peace after dark.

I started to watch a specific boy. I am not a stalker. At least I wouldn’t use this therm for a ghost. He is just interesting for my scientific research about this time. The boy has a darker skin. Some children in this school have this skin and get picked on, but somehow he isn’t the one who gets pick on. He wears very interesting clothes. Especially the golden earring. Something I would just see a woman wear, but it fits him so much better than it could ever fit a woman. His clothing is mostly black, though I would say that the red shirt he once worn fits him best. His lips have always a smile on them and he cracks loud jokes. But I see the sadness in his eyes. I recognize my own sadness in his eyes. His name is Charles Rowland. I heard the teacher yell it at him. A little trouble maker in class. He seems to never be able to focus. Maybe he is also possessed like I was when I was a young boy. But after experiencing hell, I doubt that the priest back then had any idea what a demon was really like.

The following page is filled with a very realistic drawing of Charles, who is smiling so iconically and his eyes seem to be filled with emptiness and some smaller doodles of Charles playing Cricket or talking to others.

Charles Rowland. His name repeats itself in my brain. I am not obsessive. He is just the best way of distraction I can find in this school. Distraction from the fear of hell. The fear of death coming back for me. Analysis and observation keep me away from those horrible thoughts. I have less panicle outbursts since I started my observation of this boy. Although when I am alone at night in the school attic I often start to cry in silence and my breathing races again.

Charlie. That is what his friends call him. It doesn’t suit him. Charles is his name. Not Charlie. I don’t like his friends. They are rude. They remind me of the boys in my old life. I wonder why I like Charles then. Maybe because he points out obvious misbehavior of the group even if they mock him.

The most interesting time is when Charles thinks that he is alone. That is mostly in the dressing room, when he gets ready for Cricket. As a short notion he is a fabulous cricket player, but he always waits till the other boys have changed and are out of the room. He pretends to struggle with his shoes or shorts. Even if that sometimes means that it is getting really dark outside. His smiles fades completely then. I saw the scars on his body. I feel bad for even looking at him in that state. Seeing a boy my age without a shirt is clearly inappropriate and it triggers the Mary Ann inside of me, but sometimes my detective senses is taking over too much. Especially after I saw all the scars and bruises. You don’t need to be that clever to understand that his family probably his father beats him. Although beating may be a too mild verb for those scars. I appreciate the absence of my father when I see him. My father and teachers used to beat me as well. With a ruler or the flat hand though not as much as my classmates. And after being through hell, that all seems like nothing in comparison. But even in my time no father would have mistreated their sons like that. I speak from a higher class, maybe it had been different in the lower class, but they were happy if their sons made it through childhood without a disease or scars so they could work properly. Although maybe they did this with the child workers. Is Charles secretly a child worker? Is there still child labour? Why would someone bruise their son like that if their son could provide a great income for the family? Or how many things was Charles doing something seriously wrong?

1989

His friends talked about me last night. They had cricket practice until the sun had settled and on the way back home I heard them talking about a school ghost. The janitor must have heard my weeping last night. My hysteria yesterday was indeed a lot. Too much to handle for myself. I think I was shaking till dawn. This vivid fear must have crossed over into the living world. They told Charles, that this had scared the janitor and he quitted. Then they told him of Mary Ann who was sacrificed 1916 and killed all the boys that night. Charles questioned this logically, since it was an all boys school, so there probably was never a girl. I certainly appreciate his thinking, but this just triggered a lot in me. Being called a Mary Ann even after all this years. Being remembered only as a Mary Ann. Being blamed as the murderer. Those boys clearly had no idea of what the term Mary Ann actually meant, but it just triggered me so badly that I started to panic again. My panic must have bursted through the worlds again, because the boys suddenly turned white and ran home. Charles stayed a little longer. Looking in my direction. I know he couldn’t see me, but maybe he could sense my panic more than the other boys could. Again we are much a like if you observe closely. After this strange second of him just starting into nothing and me starting back, he ran away as well.

I need to leave this place. But I am too scared. Too scared of the outside world. Too scared of the changes.

I wanted to leave today, be brave enough. But I heard Charles ‘friends’ talking bad about him behind his back. How weird he behaved. They had no idea about his scars. Then again if I would be his friend, which is rather unlikely, I wouldn’t confront him. I know how horrible I panic if someone says the word Mary Ann, I imagine that it is a similar situation for him with his scars. I stayed. I don’t know why. Again irrational fears.

I wish I would have left. I saw Charles defending a boy who got bullied by his so called friends. I felt tears in my eyes, because this was the kind of protection I had wished for when I was alive. I definitely feel too many emotions at the moment or maybe it just feels like more emotions because I was mostly numb in hell. The younger boy could escape with only a few bruises, but his friends still were in this blood lust. In this moment of still wanting the fun even though there was nothing funny about the action in the first place. I have seen those faces before. The faces of murders who only realize their actions when it is too late. They stoned him in the cold water. The water of the lake in which I once thought about killing myself a long time ago. I wanted to help. I wanted to stop them, but I had no idea what I could do. I am too new in this ghostly body. I tried desperately, but I ended up only pausing them by holding them back for a short time. It gave Charles time to ran away to the school building. He hid in the attic. I wanted to help him. The least I could do was by giving him a light. He was in a state where a floating light probably was his least problem. It turned out that he could see me and that was the moment I knew it was too late for him anyway. It was a strange sensation to properly speak again. I had never spoken in hell and in my ghost form I had only weeped. Hearing my own voice was odd. I was shortly surprised that I still knew how to use my voice. Reading to him from one of my old comics in the attic calmed him and gave me the opportunity to adapt a bit to talking for a longer period of time. He stayed with me, which honestly stresses me out a lot. I am not made to be a friend. I have been isolated for too long to be a good friend. I have been in hell for so long that I am probably a horrible person myself. I haven’t talked in so long. I am just adapting to just have conversations, how should I teach him to be a ghost, if I haven’t figured it out myself? Even if that all would not be the case and even if we would not be from different times, still I never have been good with other people. I never had friends. The only person a bit close to me was Cordelia and she was always more a sister for me. And still he chooses a stranger his own afterlife. From my observations I would blame his intentional behavior. He sees something and does something without thinking long. Although this decision might be too big for only this explanation.

I really can’t understand why Charles is choosing me over his afterlife. I just read to him once and gave him a lantern. He barely knows me and now he follows me everywhere. I showed him some ghost tricks and somehow I can really impress him by everything I say or do. But he made me smile for the first time in my life. So I am impressed by him as well. Whenever I read in this book, I just tell him that I like to keep record of things. That I would plan were we can go next as we no longer can stay in the school and waking around without plan is never good for too long. It is partly a lie I really am making a plan. But I do this in my head rather than writing it down, but it is an excuse for not letting him see my private writing. I tell him that it is rather boring planning and he believes me. I feel bad for lying to him, but if he would know about my past he surely would leave me and I would be all alone again.

We mirror traveled together to London. Charles felt a bit sick after it. He seems to still need to adapt to his ghost body. I was a bit overwhelmed with his sudden mood shift. I have been too selfish all my life and in my death so much that I don’t know how to help. He didn’t notice or he just didn’t say anything. But we had to mirror travel, it was too dangerous in the school after Charles died. Besides Charles is a talented and athletic boy, he will get the grip of it. In addition death could have caught me in the attic. I didn’t tell him why I am on the run. Not yet. I fear that once I tell him that I was in hell, he will think I am evil. Maybe that is true. Maybe I am just doomed. I feel like it was my fault that he died. I watched him so long with this incorrect feelings of mine. Maybe this cursed him like in a Greek tragedy. For now I just want to make sure that Charles is not alone. I had been alone for too long to know how dreadful it can get and he is much more social than I am.

We visited his family in London. A real rural area. His mother was crying over the loss of her son. His father just seemed to see it as a natural thing to happen to those who aren’t careful enough. I made a mental note to haunt this man every year to Charles’ death day without telling Charles. The school, once again, swept the problem under the carpet and made it appear like an accident. How can someone possibly stone himself while being in the water and then run in an attic? No clever detective would see that as the solution. I said that out loud and it turned out that Charles and I both share a passion for detective stories. That was something to make him smile. But he started to cry again as he saw how desperate his mother and sister were. He hugged me, which was a lot. I never have been hugged before and at first it felt like this demon from hell was gripping around me again. I froze in place and pushed him away in a reflex. Charles stopped. I didn’t tell him about the hell part, but I told him that I am not used to hugs and touches in general. He took it in surprisingly well, but for his own sake I added that I might could get used to it. I hope that I am able to get used to it. Charles sees it as something that he can teach me.

It was just a matter of time till my hell trauma wouldn’t be able to keep hidden anymore. We were in an abandoned apartment, since we both are not staying out the whole night. We don’t have to sleep but it is just too awkward. He usually talks through the whole night and I like his voice even with his weird way of talking. He likes me reading to him. He even carries all my books for me. But as we explored the abandoned house, I discovered an old doll. I overreacted I know. But there was just so much panic inside of me all of the sudden. My fight or flight mood was activated again. I don’t know what Charles did. I don’t know how he managed to stop me from repeating the word ‘Please spare me. I don’t belong in hell.’ I vaguely remember his hands securely holding my head and his shining dark eyes and his calm voice, but I don’t remember his words. He was confused by my sudden changed behavior, but he tried to not show that whole calming me. Once he had calmed me, I obviously had to tell him the truth. I gave him the opportunity to leave me again, but he stayed and he understood, said that this is probably the worst thing someone could have been through. We didn’t speak the rest of the night, but we continued the next day as if nothing had happened.

It is harder to continue my writing as Charles could find out and I don’t want him to know about this. He is so lively. He is jumping and sprinting around, while telling me things and just appears from behind. I cannot risk that. We have a detective agency now. We don’t want that others have their deaths so badly twisted as ours. Another reason was that he had introduced me to a game called Clue, which is basically a detective game, and then we both came up with the idea of starting our own detective agency. He is the brawn and I am the brain. It fits perfectly. We even managed to get a abandoned flat in London. I probably have no time to continue this memoirs, but I will make sure to use my notebook as a case lock book from now own.

I will never tell him about the real meaning of the word Mary Ann. I will never tell him that I had been in the school for a whole year and not just shortly before his death. I will never tell him that I have watched and observed him. I appreciate him now too much. I don’t ever want to lose him.

After that only a whole lot of cases and notes and questions on them followed.

#dead boy detectives #edwin payne #charles rowland #dbd #dbd fanfic #dead boy detective agency #dead boy detectives fanfic #payneland #crystal palace #niko sasaki #Spotify #payneland fanfic #fanfic collab

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queereads-bracket · 27 days ago

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Queer Adult SFF Books Bracket: Round 3

Book summaries and submitted endorsements below:

The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet (Wayfarers series) by Becky Chambers

Rosemary Harper doesn’t expect much when she joins the crew of the aging Wayfarer. While the patched-up ship has seen better days, it offers her a bed, a chance to explore the far-off corners of the galaxy, and most importantly, some distance from her past. An introspective young woman who learned early to keep to herself, she’s never met anyone remotely like the ship’s diverse crew, including Sissix, the exotic reptilian pilot, chatty engineers Kizzy and Jenks who keep the ship running, and Ashby, their noble captain.

Life aboard the Wayfarer is chaotic and crazy—exactly what Rosemary wants. It’s also about to get extremely dangerous when the crew is offered the job of a lifetime. Tunneling wormholes through space to a distant planet is definitely lucrative and will keep them comfortable for years. But risking her life wasn’t part of the plan. In the far reaches of deep space, the tiny Wayfarer crew will confront a host of unexpected mishaps and thrilling adventures that force them to depend on each other. To survive, Rosemary’s got to learn how to rely on this assortment of oddballs—an experience that teaches her about love and trust, and that having a family isn’t necessarily the worst thing in the universe.

Science fiction, adventure, series, adult

The Last Binding trilogy (A Marvellous Light, A Restless Truth, A Power Unbound) by Freya Marske

Endorsement from submitter #1: "A trilogy of books set in a magical Edwardian England, the Last Binding series focuses on three queer couples who come together in order to solve a conspiracy threatening all magic. It’s a masterful blending of fantasy, historical fiction, and romance, with a splash of mystery and Wodehousian romp. Expect magical manor house parties with beautiful wallpaper, as well as explorations of power, trust, and what we owe the land. The prose is absolutely gorgeous and evocative. The characters and their emotional arcs form the beating heart of the story, intertwined with beautifully crafted romance. The worldbuilding feels organic and deeply rooted within this hidden magical society. These books are thoughtful, tender, scorching, and fun all at once."

Endorsement from submitter #2: "Utterly fantastic historical fantasy. Each book focuses on a subset of a larger character set. There is an overarching high stake magical plot, as well as different queer romances explored in each individual book."

Robin Blyth has more than enough bother in his life. He’s struggling to be a good older brother, a responsible employer, and the harried baronet of a seat gutted by his late parents’ excesses. When an administrative mistake sees him named the civil service liaison to a hidden magical society, he discovers what’s been operating beneath the unextraordinary reality he’s always known.

Now Robin must contend with the beauty and danger of magic, an excruciating deadly curse, and the alarming visions of the future that come with it—not to mention Edwin Courcey, his cold and prickly counterpart in the magical bureaucracy, who clearly wishes Robin were anyone and anywhere else.

Robin’s predecessor has disappeared, and the mystery of what happened to him reveals unsettling truths about the very oldest stories they’ve been told about the land they live on and what binds it. Thrown together and facing unexpected dangers, Robin and Edwin discover a plot that threatens every magician in the British Isles—and a secret that more than one person has already died to keep.

Fantasy, historical fiction, romance, magic, Edwardian, series, adult

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dead-lights · 10 months ago

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household // 1910s caleb & lilith & lily [DOWNLOAD]

It's so much fun throwing the Vatores into random historical eras. This is what you'll get if you throw my late Edwardian Zhu-Vatore household into your game! I may have gone a bit overboard.

↓↓↓ tl;dr household download link & required cc below the cut ↓↓↓

There's absolutely gorgeous Edwardian cc out there, so I collected it for you 💖

The Edwardian era was marked by excess and conspicuous consumption. They liked big hair and big hats, and by the end of the period people had come to agree that the sexiest shape a woman can be is cylindrical.

Caleb, Lily, and Lilith really pull off the look. Neither lady is particularly cylindrical, but they look great in these dresses and absolutely rock the Gibson Girl updo and fancy hats.

I aged Lily down and changed her hair color, removed Lilith's tattoos, and gave Caleb a basic dark form, but no other changes. I tried to make them cousins? But when I loaded the household onto my laptop, they weren't cousins anymore :(

You'll need Vintage Glamour, in addition to Vampires and Werewolves. A few of Caleb's outfits and his hair are from VG and you CANNOT pair side bangs with Edwardian clothing. It's a fashion law.

In order to cut back on the amount of cc, there's less variety of hats, hair, gloves, and shoes than I'd like. I also didn't include jewelry. If people are interested, I can put together a list of supplementary cc that can be swapped in.

Please tag me @dead-lights if you use these for anything! I'd love to see my pixel buddies walking around in other people's saves.

Now buckle up, y'all. This gets long.

download household [SFS]

Extract that into your Tray folder (in the same folder as your Mods folder). You should see the household in CAS when you open your gallery.

required cc

@happylifesims

fedora shape no. 2

peaky blinders outfit

wilbur outfit

1920s coat

rose's boarding outfit

rose's dinner dress

rose's lunch dress

rose's flying dress

rose’s jump dress

rose's swim dress

1910s day dress 01

my recolor of day dress 01

1910s day dress 02

1920s nightgown

@historicalsimslife

men's casual edwardian suit

edwardian men's underwear + sleep wear

edwardian women's hat + coat

edwardian women's nightgown

@gilded-ghosts

the hartfield shoes

summer swells dress

flower accessory

gilded gibson hair

fanny's finery gown (dropbox)

perfectly plain skirt

clair de lune nightgown (dropbox)

promenade dress

demure day dress (dropbox)

astor dress (direct link)

coquette corset (dropbox)

@linzlu

picnic tops 2 & 3

bathing belle

florence outwear (direct link)

miss scarlet evening gown

hattie dress (direct link)

vintage swimwear by @eirflower

duchess of xviii hat by @rustys-cc

white garden gloves by rustys-cc

sunday hair by @saurusness

season's greetings hat by @nolan-sims

edwardian satin bow pumps by @waxesnostalgic

knickerbockers by waxesnostalgic

gibson curl updo by @the-melancholy-maiden

vintage glam hat by @madlensims

avery skirt by madlensims

scholar vest by @magnolianfarewell

edwardian huntress dress by @elfdor

tyrell by @clumsyalienn

bespoke corset by @dzifasims

my recolor of bespoke corset

fur hat by @lilis-palace

carla by @buzzardly28

hattie dress by @dancemachinetrait

"tea time" vintage edwardian hat by shawnthesimmer

lingerie dress by @javitrulovesims

If you're trying to replace the default in-game:

move this household into wolfsbane manor with the default vatores, then delete the defaults

use mods/cheats to make the new lily the vatores' cousin (i think mccc and ui cheats can both do it)

move custom lily in with the volkov household - use cheats/mods to copy her default relationships if you'd like - and then delete default lily. you will also need to mod/cheat lily back into the moonwood collective if you want her to keep her position. all three characters still have their occult rank and powers. she does NOT keep her special moonwood mill gossip dialogue - not sure why.

TOU

don't put my stuff behind a paywall

don't claim my stuff as your own

don't violate the TOUs of the cc makers i've included

Please let me know if there are any problems - this is my first time putting up a household and I'm only mostly sure I did it right 😅 I managed to get it to work on my laptop, so there's that.

If you're just here for the download, you're done now! If you're interested in learning more about Edwardian fashion, let me ramble at you for a bit :)

my notes

This isn't the most historically accurate set, but I'm calling it close enough - if you're interested in learning more about the era, Edwardian Promenade is a great place to start.

Edwardians had really weird, complicated rules about hat and glove wearing. For most of these outfits, people would don and remove their hats and gloves based on social context - they shouldn't be wearing gloves when they eat, for example, but should always wear gloves when they're dancing. It's hard to find consistent information about the specific rules, but I've read excerpts from the Edwardian equivalents of Miss Manners and Good Housekeeping and they are fascinating.

I found some great reference images for sportswear from Silhouettes Costumes. Caleb's athletic outfit is based on this contemporary illustration. The unfastened bottom button is a nice detail to have - it was fashionable for men to leave the last button undone, as a nod to King Edward.

The ladies have 3 sleep outfits - the first are nightgowns that they would wear to sleep, the second are corsets, with other undergarments still on underneath, and the third are chemises, which were worn under their corsets - the underest part of the underwear, essentially.

For an in-depth explanation of Edwardian lingerie, check out The Fashion Archaeologist's Blog. For information about Edwardian nighttime hair care, check out Sew Historically.

The girls are wearing lingerie dresses for their hot weather outfits - lacy dresses made with the same materials & techniques as lingerie. These were good casual afternoon dresses, and were sometimes worn without a corset. Learn more about them from The Dreamstress!

#caleb vatore #lilith vatore #lily zhu #ts4 historical #ts4 lookbook #ts4 download #ts4 cc #s4cc #townie makeover #ts4 townie makeover #ts4 townie #ts4 premades #ts4 edwardian #ts4 1910s #ts4 vampires #ts4 werewolves #sim dump #dead-lights cc

87 notes · View notes

sarahowritesostucky · 4 months ago

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📖"Alpha, Beta (& Omega)"

Rated: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6883

Pairing: Steve x Bucky

Tags: a/b/o, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, nobility/royalty au, alternate history, dom/sub elements, beta bucky, anal sex, oral sex, hurt/comfort, first time, age gap, domestic discipline, spanking, head of household, wedding night, Edwardian time period, m/f/m poly marriage

Summary: To save House Barnes from scandalous ruin, James must agree to a contracted marriage, accepting Lord Senator Steven Rogers as his Alpha, Husband, and Headship.

Story Masterlist

20. An Inquiry

This Chapter: They’ve only been married for a matter of months, after all. It seems almost insultingly soon for the mothers of Society to be sending in their requests to make enviable matches.

As Congress enters its fall session, Steve gets very busy with work. He’s away from the house most of the time, leaving early in the mornings and staying at his office in the city until late at night. He rarely makes it home for lunch anymore, and many suppers are missed as well, the servants wrapping up a plate to be reheated hours later.

In the mornings, Bucky hates waking up alone in their bed, the heat of Steve’s large body already faded from the sheets. He knows that his husband is a Senator, is important, but that doesn’t make lonely meals or going to bed by himself any easier. Steve never initiates sex anymore, and it’s almost hurtful, even though Bucky knows it’s because he’s so busy, so tired. There’s little opportunity for Bucky to try and initiate sex either. He’s a heavier sleeper than Steve. Oftentimes the Alpha will slip into bed one night and right back out the next morning, Bucky having slept soundly through both events.

All of a sudden, Bucky misses the intimacy that’d been growing between them as new husbands. He feels, well … neglected.

“I’m tired, Baby,” Steve will say, when Bucky does manage to wake up in the night, when he turns over and spoons up against his Headship’s sleeping warmth, tries to slip a hand over Steve’s waist and down the front of his pajama pants. “Tomorrow, Babe,” Steve will promise, and rearrange Bucky in his arms with a sleepy, close-eyed smile.

But those promises never materialize, and Bucky still wakes alone more often than not.

It’s just the lifestyle, he knows. Steve is a Senator. He’s dealing with important bills, working hard on legislation and coalitions, all for the good of their country. He’s down to DC every other week, and Bucky knows that his husband hates the traveling, especially when it’s only for a day or two of endless bickering sessions and snail’s-pace progress.

“Long train trips have a great way of pointing out how old I am,” he tells Bucky wryly, but he’s only thirty, and Bucky makes fun of him for complaining.

“Right, because you’re so ancient.”

“Hey, you don’t know,” Steve gives a lopsided smile. “The benches are godawful.”

“Come upstairs with me,” Bucky cajoles one morning, taken by Steve’s expression. The alpha is dressed for travel and surrounded by his baggage in the foyer, waiting for Jarvis to bring the car around to take him to Grand Central Station. Bucky grabs his hand and gives a pull towards the stairs. “Real quick? It won’t take ten minutes.” He’s envisioning Steve pressed up against their bedroom wall and Bucky on his knees, a hasty suckjob while he jerks himself off. He offers Steve a saucy wink as he tugs on his hand. “C’mon, I want to give you a proper send off.”

Steve laughs and extricates himself from Bucky’s grasp, giving good-natured excuses about how he won’t be able to control himself from taking things further, and how he’ll most certainly miss his train. He brushes him off, and Bucky has to pretend that it doesn’t hurt his feelings when the only intimacy he receives from his Headship is a placating kiss on his cheek.

“Be good,” Steve says, turning for the door. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

Bucky pouts, put out. He supposes the honeymoon phase is over.

One of Bucky’s jobs as Steve’s Spouse is to sort through the daily mail. As a senatorial household, they receive quite a lot. Sharon brings it to him after lunch most days, and Bucky sits at a little writing desk that’s in the back parlor and sorts through it all. The bulk of the mail is business related for Steve’s position, and Bucky knows not to go opening that. He gives those sorts of things back to Sharon for Steve to open at his leisure.

Bucky receives letters from his mother weekly, and also a fair number of social inquiries. There are weekly requests from other Society betas and omegas, asking Bucky to attend their teas and luncheons, their garden parties and charities. Bucky wouldn’t know how to get through something as tedious as a garden party, finding the prospect of such frivolous events to be dreadfully irksome. He has contemplated joining a charity board or two, but the rest are all firm impossibilities.

He prides himself on the fact that he’s gotten quite good at penning the most eloquent and polite refusals, so it’s quite the occasion when he opens a letter one afternoon with a specific social request to which he has no idea how to respond. He’s just set the letter opener down after opening the blush stained stationary that’s been addressed to:

The Beta Spouse of Capt. Senator Steven G. Rogers, Lord James B. Rogers.

At first he’s only wondering about what sort of person would select pale pink stationary on which to write their correspondence, but that thought is wiped from his mind once he actually reads what the letter has to say:

Dear Sir, My name is May Marceau. You do not know me. Indeed, we have never yet had the chance to meet. But I am hoping that may soon change. I am writing on behalf of my beloved nephew and ward, Peter Parker, a boy of fine character and genteel disposition whom my wife and I have raised as our own since he was very young. He is now an eligible omega of Society by way of my wife, whose family has served for three generations as the elected of New York’s congressional district fourteen (Queens). Peter is a kind and obedient young man, with a keen wit and engaging demeanor. He is accomplished in both the fine arts and homemaking tasks, but is not overly fond of the events of the season where a young fellow such as he would be most likely to meet interested suitors. Given this, I have taken it upon myself to make inquiries on his behalf. I read of your marriage this past summer to Senator Rogers, and I do hope you received our family’s card of congratulations for you and your new husband. I hope married life is treating you both well. Personally, I know only a little of Lord Rogers and yourself, but I have seen you at Society functions, and have heard only the most flattering things about your Headship and how he comports himself with his work. My wife and I are in agreement that he is undoubtedly a good man, and we must deduce the same about you. That brings me to my long-delayed point, which is of course to ask that both you and your husband consider the prospect of my nephew Peter becoming your Third. He is a sweet and comely boy who would make a fine addition to an esteemed House such as yours. I do hope you will consider alerting Senator Rogers to this inquiry, and perhaps soon a chaperoned meeting might be arranged. I will wait with much hope for your reply. Respectfully, May Marceau.

Bucky sits there at the parlor’s writing desk, dumbfounded for quite a while. He rereads the letter multiple times, trying to make sense of his feelings about it. He knows he shouldn’t be surprised. This is the way that these things are done, after all. Bucky’s own mother would have sent a similar letter to Steve’s beta father, back when she first inquired. The idea of it brings heat to his face, as he thinks about how the beta man would’ve then brought the letter directly to Steve himself, as Lady Rogers had already passed away and Steve assumed the family’s Seat. Bucky figures he should be grateful, at least, that it’s tradition for these inquiries to be sent to beta Spouses. That means he’s seeing this first, instead of Steve. And, technically, he has discretion on what to do now.

He flips the stupidly pink envelope back over, rereading how it was addressed only to him. Not to Steve, not to him and Steve. Just to Bucky. But even so, the line reads: The Beta Spouse of Capt. Senator Steven G. Rogers, Lord James B. Rogers. Bucky is defined as belonging to his Headship, and he knows that he’s expected to tell Steve about this inquiry. Hiding it would be … sneaky at best, punishable at worst. And Bucky really isn’t over that one time Steve took his belt to him during their honeymoon, so …

He wonders what Steve will say.

Insecurity flutters in his stomach as he imagines Steve deciding that they need to be polite, that they need to arrange a chaperoned meeting with this omega named Peter. Marceau—Bucky isn’t familiar with the name, though that’s not a surprise. There are dozens of elected in New York, and they all have their own children. They aren’t common, but they certainly aren’t High Society like Bucky and Steve are. Congressional districts’ elected positions are frequently kept by the same family throughout generations, but they aren’t inherited like Senatorial Seats are, so the family names do sometimes change. It would be an exercise in futility to attempt to keep track of them all.

Mrs. Marceau made sure to emphasize in her letter that her nephew has been raised in their household and is considered to be just like a son—which indicates to Bucky that the boy’s real parents must have been of common origins. That doesn’t truly matter to him, but he winds up thinking rather snotty things about it anyway, just because this is his Alpha that’s being inquired about, and he isn’t inclined to be generous in thought.

He wonders how old Peter is, what he looks like. Sometimes inquiries are sent with a little picture included as additional enticement (and good God, Bucky hopes his own mother hadn’t included a picture in her inquiry), but there is none here, not even when he curiously rechecks the envelope for something missed. Bucky purses his lips. Maybe Peter’s not as ‘comely’ as his aunt suggests.

It’s a shallow, bitter little snipe of a thought that makes Bucky feel petty and foolish as soon as he has it. He scoffs at himself and begins to stuff the paper back into the envelope, unsure when exactly he’ll bring it up with Steve. They’ve only been married for a matter of months. It seems almost insultingly soon for the mothers of Society to be sending in their requests to make enviable matches. Bucky wonders if Steve’s fathers had felt the same way, when House Barnes’ request was received just after Sarah Rogers had died and Steve assumed the family’s Seat …

Sharon clears her throat from right beside Bucky, nearly making him jump out of his chair. “Christ!” he hisses, feeling overwhelmed. He buries his face in his hand. “Sharon. Jeez.”

“Sorry,” she says, not sounding sorry at all. She cocks her hip and holds out her hand. “Steve’s mail?”

Bucky sighs and grabs the pile of letters that he’s laid aside separately. “Here.”

Sharon’s eyes flit over the hastily re-stuffed pink envelope, but they don’t linger. “Hm,” she says, and walks away, likely headed for Steve’s office. Bucky wants to snap at her to act like a goddamn servant and not say “Hm” or raise her eyebrows like that or call Steve ‘Steve’ instead of his title. But he doesn’t say a thing. He knows he’s just being grumpy.

… And he’s pretty sure that Sharon would low-grade poison his meals if he talked to her like that.

The first time Bucky witnesses his husband pleasuring himself, he’s so shocked that he doesn’t know what to do. It’s in the evening—after dinner, but not so late as to be time to head off to bed. Steve had finished his meal at dinner and then left, requesting private time to work in his office and not be disturbed. But Bucky thinks that he might entice him into stopping his work for the evening and enjoying a nightcap together. Maybe they can even fuck in the office, on the rug in front of the fireplace.

That’s not what happens.

Steve is in his desk chair when Bucky opens the door. His eyes are closed, so he doesn’t notice Bucky, and Bucky freezes in place with his mouth agape. He can’t actually see anything, as Steve’s desk blocks his lower half from view, but it’s very obvious what he’s doing. His face is pinched and his jaw is slack, lips parted and shoulder moving in that telltale way …

Feeling his blood rush to multiple places, Bucky shuts the door and scampers away and doesn’t tell Steve what he walked in on. Then in the succeeding days he winds up feeling hurt, of all things. He convinces himself that it isn’t a very good sign, the way his Headship is behaving. First Steve turns his advances away each night, claiming stress and exhaustion, and now Bucky finds him resorting to harried self-pleasure! He fumes over it, worrying that perhaps it’s something to do with him, that something has changed and that Steve doesn’t want him sexually any more.

His frustration is compounded by the fact that he has to begrudgingly admit to himself that he was turned on by the sight of Steve touching himself like that. He shouldn’t find it so arousing, because Steve probably wasn’t even thinking of him while he did it. He was probably thinking of someone else, maybe one of their servants, or some delicate Society omega. Steve is clearly a good man and loving husband, but perhaps he’s oriented the same way Bucky’s father is. Perhaps he truly desires omegas, and Bucky is merely filling a spot for tradition’s sake.

He can’t bring himself to tell Steve about these fears. He feels silly and petty for having them. He decides to keep trying his best to be a good Spouse for Steve, as that’s all he can really do. He reconsiders the possibility of an engagement, thinking that maybe a Third in their marriage taking all of Steve’s attention would be better than the alternative of growing resentment and an eventual affair.

Bucky’s father had had lots of affairs, had even kept a household with a common woman. It’s an arrangement that many alphas in Society have, Bucky knows. An open secret that nobody talks about. Steve’s promised that he would never do such a thing, but alphas have needs, and Bucky is beginning to worry that he’s not enough to meet Steve’s. As long as he can keep Steve’s attentions contained well enough—enough to prevent an affair, to prevent something like what Bucky’s father had done—maybe Bucky can be satisfied. Maybe he’ll have to be. Steve has all the control in their marriage, after all. He might not give Bucky the choice.

Another night, after a dinner that they eat separately because Steve’s still working away in his office, Bucky sidles up behind him when they’ve dressed for bed and tries to entice him into some intimacy. “I miss feeling your touch,” he murmurs into the bend of Steve’s neck, inhaling his scent in a manner so obvious that Steve can’t possibly miss it. “Husband?”

Steve groans and turns around. He smiles tiredly and kisses Bucky on the forehead, the hug he provides far from what Bucky had in mind. “It’s been such a long day, Buck. Snuggle me instead?”

Bucky wants to scoff, but he can’t manage it. Steve’s too sweet in the moment, telling him that he loves him and coaxing him into the bed, both of their nightclothes on and no sex to be had. “Sorry, Honey,” he mumbles into Bucky’s hair. “Tomorrow, m’promise.”

But the next day, Steve’s back on the train to DC.

Bucky’s feeling morose and petulant and too much in his head when, two days later, the photographs from the wedding arrive.

It’s raining heavily outside and has been all day (a fitting match to Bucky’s mood), and Pietro comes into the parlor soaked to the bone. Bucky’s eyes widen but Pietro just waves off his attempt to get up from his moping and do something to help dry him off. “Don’t worry,” he says good naturedly. “Towels in the kitchen.” He lays his parcel down on the room’s coffee table with a smile. “Picked these up at the photographer’s studio.”

“What?” Bucky’s asking, even as Pietro hurries from the room, his clothes making sad, soggy sounds as he goes. Bucky sighs and gets up from his chair to go take a look at the package that Pietro somehow managed to keep dry. Inside the large envelope are over a dozen photographs, and Bucky’s heart beats a little faster as he realizes what he’s looking at.

It’s funny. He hasn’t really thought about the day of their wedding since it happened. He’s a very in the moment kind of guy, and with their weeks-long honeymoon and return to New York, setting up house and falling into a routine, Bucky hasn’t spent much time reminiscing about the actual day they got married.

The first photograph is of Bucky and Steve standing outside the front doors of the church, hands clasped and smiling. They both look shy in the picture, but Bucky doesn’t fail to notice how Steve’s smile, however small, looks more real than his own. Steve looks like he was genuinely happy in that moment. The idea that Steve had actually wanted the marriage, even back then, makes Bucky soften a little despite himself.

He sinks down onto the sofa and runs his thumb over the edge of the picture, looking at how his own timid smile looks far less convincing. Mostly Bucky just thinks he looks stressed in the picture, and that makes him set the first photo aside. He hates to think that his attitude that day might’ve ruined the pictures, that for the rest of their married lives, any time Steve wants to look back and reminisce, he’ll have to see Bucky’s pained smiles in every photo.

He flips to the next picture, which is a posed portrait with him and Steve and both of their parents. They’re arranged the way the photographer had told them to be, and Bucky likes this one a little better than the last, even though nobody’s smiling. They’d been told not to, as it isn’t customary for such a formal portrait, and therefore no sad or anxious emotions can be deduced on anyone’s face, let alone Bucky’s. He thinks that he actually looks quite handsome in his suit and well-styled hair. And Steve, well. Steve looks incredibly dashing. Bucky hums lightly and sets that photograph aside as well, being careful with his handling of the glossy paper. They’ll have to have all of these framed, he thinks; order copies, as his mother is sure to request some, perhaps Steve’s fathers as well.

There are a few more of the formal style portraits, some of just Bucky and Steve, some with Bucky’s sisters included as well. Bucky is pleased to find that the photographer captured a few candid shots of their reception back at Steve’s parents’ house, everything less formalized and more jovial. Natasha is in two of them, and Bucky instantly misses her. He tells himself that he’ll have to arrange a visit soon. He hasn’t heard much from his friend since the wedding, and he wonders what she’s been up to.

Probably having more of a life than Bucky ever will. He tries not to be bitter about that. He cares deeply for Natasha and knows she deserves a full life. He promises himself that he’ll be happy for her, when she comes to visit and tells him all about her plans: what University she’s decided on, where her pre-university travels are going to take her, what subject she’s leaning towards for a future career path. Bucky won’t be bitter. He won’t.

The last photograph is another posed one, and Bucky’s struck by the keen memory of when they’d taken it. The photographer had directed him and Steve into the Rogers’ study, where there was a large portrait of Steve’s parents, posed in the traditional manner for a complete marriage: Sarah Rogers standing, Gregory Rogers seated in a chair at her side, and Joseph Rogers kneeling at both of their feet; Gregory’s one wristband on display as he reached up and lightly touched his wife’s arm, Sarah’s hand resting down on Joseph’s shoulder, her wedding rings right next to where his collar sat visible on his neck.

Given that the Rogers’ marriage had completed just over three decades ago, it’s a painted portrait rather than photographed. The three of them had posed solemn-faced, but still managed to look very happy. A satisfied triad. Joseph, in particular, looked very content in his kneeling position, expression close to beaming. Having met Steve’s two fathers and seen photographs of them with their late wife, Bucky knew straight away that it was an amazingly lifelike rendering. The artist had done well in capturing their love.

Of course, that’d only made it more awkward for Bucky on the day of his and Steve’s wedding, when they had to pose just in front of the portrait of Steve’s parents, directed by the photographer to echo the traditional positions of alpha and beta Spouse. Bucky remembers having had a few glasses of wine by then, and he’d been peevish at being made to sit in the chair next to Steve, at being ordered about and told to make sure his jacket sleeve rode up enough to showcase his wristband as he touched Steve’s arm.

“It’s just one photo,” Steve had admonished him at the time, imploring Bucky with his eyes to behave and just get through it. Bucky had acquiesced—but not without a good eye roll or two. Luckily, he’d schooled his expression properly before the photographer snapped the shot.

Now, Bucky bites his lip as he examines the photo of him and Steve. They look … like a suitably married couple. The intent of the photo is traditional: to highlight the lack of an omega Spouse kneeling at his and Steve’s feet. It’s a “one day” sort of photo, one that they’ll show to their future Third and hang next to the portrait that’ll be taken of all three of them, once their marriage is complete. They’ll smile and reminisce, and Steve’ll say things like, “Oh, look back at when Bucky and I first met. Can’t believe we didn’t have you, my Darling. Now we’re complete. Isn’t it so wonderful?”

That’s the idea, anyway. Couples are supposed to yearn for and search out their Third until they find them, then rejoice at having attained the domestic ideal of a Triad. Bucky decides he likes this photograph the very least of the bunch. He sets it aside and stacks all the others back on top of it, sliding them into the envelope and abandoning them there. He’ll show them to Steve when (or if) the alpha ever returns home from work on time. Steve practically lives in his office these days, so Bucky’s not exactly motivated to make it a priority to cater to him. He returns to his chair by the window and stares out at the rain, thinking about the inquiry from the other day, from May Marceau about her nephew.

If Nat were here, he could ask her to do some investigating, find out who the omega is, what he’s like. Natasha has a keen talent for such things. Bucky misses her all over again and wishes that she was there with him to hash out the issue. She’d commiserate, he thinks. She’d agree that it’s definitely too fucking soon for social climbing parents to be sending in their inquiries. Maybe she’d even back Bucky up on not telling Steve about it.

He hasn’t yet. He feels a little guilty about that, but pushes it away with a petulant reminder that it’s more Steve’s fault than his. The alpha’s never home to talk to anyways. Bucky sits there and grumps about it. He knows Steve has work, that he’s miles more important than Bucky is or ever will be, but surely he could at least make more of an effort to be close with one another? Surely if he tried harder they could have the occasional breakfast together, or dinner, or Steve could make an attempt to have sex with him like they used to. It’s been weeks.

Bucky wonders if Steve would make the effort if he had an omega waiting at home for him. That thought sits in his stomach like sour grapes, but Bucky can’t shake it. Would Steve be more eager if their marriage was complete? Bucky knows it’s something Steve wants one day. He knows his Headship wants a family with children. As a male beta, Bucky can’t give him that. But an omega could.

An omega like Peter.

Bucky thinks of maybe telling Steve about the inquiry, just to see what his reaction is, if his face lights up or not. Maybe Steve thinks about these things more than Bucky knows, maybe he goes into the city for work and sees omegas out and about with their chaperones and wishes that one of them were his. Maybe he thinks about making love to an omega, when he touches himself behind Bucky’s back.

Scowling at his sullen train of thought, Bucky shoves up from the sofa. “Snap out of it,” he mutters, because he’s had enough of himself. He really does need some company. He can’t keep sitting here idly day in and day out, overthinking everything. Even if he can’t stomach the tea parties and other insipid invitations of his fellow Society Spouses, there are other options. He’ll arrange a visit with Natasha, he decides, striding out into the hallway. And he’ll telephone instead of write. No sense wasting time with the post. His dour mood can’t take the delay.

The second time Bucky catches his husband pleasuring himself, he doesn’t back away.

It’s late. Bucky’s been woken from sleep by the sound of the bathroom door closing lightly. He sits up in the bed and blinks blearily, eyes adjusting to the darkness and then making sense of the shapes of suitcases he can see sitting on the bedroom floor. Steve is back. Sleepy as he is, Bucky’s heart quickens in excitement. This latest trip lasted longer than normal, almost five full days. He’s missed his husband and is eager to see him.

A noise sounds, and Bucky’s eyes dart over to the bathroom door. It’s closed, but there’s a faint light coming from underneath, as though Steve has lit just one of the gas lamps inside the bathroom. Bucky slides out of bed and pads over to the door, intending to go in and surprise Steve with a hug. He only gets the door open part way before he’s freezing in place.

Steve is standing at the vanity, hunched over a little. He’s got one hand on the marble countertop, propping himself up, and his other hand is … oh. Bucky swallows heavily, his belly swirling and pelvis tightening in arousal at the sight of Steve touching himself.

His eyes are closed and he’s breathing open-mouthed as he braces against the counter and pumps his cock in fast strokes. It’s all very frantic, hurried, like he’s trying to get it over with quickly. He’s still dressed, with his shirttail pulled loose and his collar undone, both sleeves pushed up to his elbows and his fly open in the front where he’s pulled himself out and is furtively jerking off.

Bucky stares at the tight, focused motions of Steve’s fist working right at the head, appreciating his strong forearm, its dusting of hair and flexing tendons. It’s so sexy, so masculine. Steve’s got big hands, the veins prominent underneath the skin, his grip strong as he tugs on his cock. Bucky can’t peel his eyes away as he stands there and watches, a boner forming dizzyingly fast beneath his sleep clothes.

God, Steve’s beautiful when he’s feeling pleasure. And the spectacle of him giving it to himself has got Bucky hard within seconds. There’s an element of shame to this as well, though. This is private. Steve thinks he’s alone. He wants to do this alone. That hurts and confuses Bucky: that his husband hasn’t come to him for sex, would rather touch himself hurriedly and hushed in the dark. But Bucky can’t think about it now. He should be retreating back into the bedroom right now, he knows he should. But he feels frozen in place, unable to look away or make himself move. He fears that the slightest twitch or sound from him will alert Steve to his presence.

There are soft, barely-heard noises of Steve’s shirtsleeve rustling, of skin on skin. It’s hurried, what he’s doing, desperate and fast and forced-quiet as he strips his cock in the next room over from his supposedly sleeping Spouse. It’s as if he’s been waiting a long time to do this. Maybe things had been too hectic in DC, these past few days, maybe Steve’s been too stressed, unable to really let loose until now. Bucky’s cock throbs at the thought of his Alpha being so pent up that he has to touch himself like this. He’s been away in DC for four nights and hasn’t touched Bucky in nearly two weeks. There’s an anguished pinch between his eyes, his jaw slack from panting and lips shiny from how he keeps wetting them with his tongue.

Bucky wants him so bad he can hardly stand it.

Then Steve makes a low, barely-there sound in his throat, and opens his eyes to look down at where he’s touching himself. Bucky’s heart leaps into his throat and he jerks in place, and the movement must catch in the mirror or something, because Steve’s head whips to the side in a flash. His hand freezes on his cock, eyes going wide. “Buck.”

Bucky is mortified, caught out watching his husband in such a private moment. He opens his mouth, trying to think of something to say. “I-I—”

“Shit.” Steve’s entire face is going red. He’s taken his hand off himself and is pulling at his shirt to cover in front. He’s stopping.

“Wait,” Bucky says, because he hates that, and his heart is still in his throat. “Don’t. Don’t stop.”

Steve’s eyes get wider. “What?”

Bucky pushes the door open the rest of the way. He takes a step past the door frame, inserting himself into the space where his husband had thought he’d had privacy. “I want to see,” he whispers, feeling absolutely wanton for saying it. “Keep … keep going.”

Steve’s color deepens even further, and he can’t meet Bucky’s eyes. “Buck, No.”

“Please?” Bucky says, taking another hesitant step in. He stops and waits until Steve looks at him. “Touch yourself. Let me watch.” He loves seeing how the embarrassment in Steve’s face gives way to cautious arousal. He’s surprised and maybe a little disbelieving at first, but that’s quick to fade, replaced instead with dark interest and heated, heavy-lidded eyes. He makes to move towards Bucky, but Bucky steps back. “No,” he says. “I want to watch. I want to watch you do it to yourself.”

Steve’s scent spikes, smokey and aggressive. If he were any less of a gentleman, he’d probably be growling by now. As it is, his eyes get dangerously keen, a glint to them that makes him look predatory, which is decidedly un-Stevelike.

Bucky’s belly clenches in desire at that look. The smell of aroused alpha winds into his senses and makes him feel that much more light headed by what’s happening. He feels like a child playing with fire, or poking a bear. “Steve,” he urges, voice coming out breathier than he means for it to. “Go on.”

Steve reaches for his shirt and begins to undo it deftly, staring Bucky down the whole time. Watching those strong hands working down the row of buttons is more erotic than it has any right to be—especially when Bucky’s just stood there and seen those fine tendons and long fingers working between his husband’s legs. He licks his lips, waiting with bated breath as Steve rids himself of the shirt completely

His cock is bared as soon as he does, exposed through the gape of his fly. It’s obscene. He’s fully hard and bobbing in the air, big and thick and shiny at the tip. He stands there and doesn’t touch himself for a long moment, letting Bucky look his fill as the tension builds between them. “You like it?” he finally asks in a voice gone raspy with arousal. He still manages to sound smug, as if he knows just how much heat is flushing through Bucky’s face right now.

Maybe he does. Bucky’s never had much of a poker face.

“Yeah,” Bucky says quietly. He’s got to force himself to stand still, to not rush over and sink to his knees in front of Steve and offer his mouth for the taking. He knows exactly how good it would feel to have that thick cockhead resting against his tongue, filling his mouth, consuming his senses. And god, he wants it.

“Bucky?”

He inhales sharply through his nose, attention shooting back up to Steve’s face. Steve’s looking at him with amusement. He’s laughing at him. Bucky straightens his spine. “You heard me,” he says bossily, egged on by Steve’s Alpha ego and how fucking hot it is. “I want to see it."

“See what?” Steve taunts. “Say it.”

“You’re the one who’s been ignoring me for weeks,” Bucky snaps. “So go on: Touch yourself.”

The smirk slips right off Steve’s face. He takes a step towards Bucky, then seems to rethink it with the way his exposed cock bobs in the air. “C’mere,” he says, quietly but serious, like he might use his Voice next if Bucky doesn’t listen.

Bucky swallows thickly and steps closer, only a few feet away from the vanity and Steve and his exposed flesh. Steve closes the remaining distance between them and wraps an arm around his waist, pulling them together. Bucky inhales sharply at the sudden press of his husband’s warm body, the turned-on smell of him, the hard line of his cock that’s now wedged in between them. Bucky struggles to get any words out. “I—”

“You been feeling ignored, Sweetheart?” Steve murmurs, leaning in to press his face against Bucky’s neck. He starts kissing him in barely-there pecks, repeats the question, “You feelin’ lonely? Feelin’ needy?” against his skin, and it’s more his voice than the kisses that makes Bucky’s knees go weak.

“I … are you kidding?” he sputters. His eyes slip closed without his permission. “Of-of course! You’ve been—christ—you’ve hardly been here, and you never wanna …” He loses track of the sentence, because Steve has started tracing the shell of his ear with his tongue, and the feeling of it is just devastating, searing a line of heat straight down to his cock, turning his brain to mush. He moans and his hips stutter forward into Steve’s without his permission. “Oh.”

Steve chuckles darkly and steadies him. “Easy there, Doll.”

Holy f— Steve’s never called him that before. Bucky … Bucky likes it. He hums with his eyes closed as Steve starts nuzzling over where his scent gland is. He scrapes his teeth over the spot as if he’s thinking about biting it, and Bucky moans, “Steve.”

“Yeah?”

He whines and pushes against Steve’s chest. “Wasn’t kidding. I want you to do it. I want to see.” Bucky rarely makes sexual requests like this. Steve took his virginity months ago, and they’ve fallen into a routine of easy, instinctual, enjoyable sex. Bucky knows his face is flaming as he says it, as Steve locks eyes with him again and rumbles deep in his chest. Fuck. Bucky whimpers needily. Steve slides one hand up to the back of his neck and uses it to hold him in place. He reaches down between them and wraps his other hand around his cock.

Bucky’s heart is beating out of his chest, and he’s so hard it actually hurts not to be touching himself right now. Steve’s so close, right up against Bucky as he starts stroking himself off. Their feet are touching, breath mingling between them. Bucky’s erection is obvious beneath his sleep pants, the backs of Steve’s knuckles bumping it as he strokes himself off. “Christ,” Bucky whispers.

“Shh,” Steve murmurs. “Just watch.”

Bucky does. Steve’s fully hard, giving himself slow, tight strokes. He wrings his hand down the shaft, only going halfway down before he squeezes back up and twists his fingers roughly over the head, rubbing his foreskin and squeezing like he’s trying to milk more precum from the tip. Bucky’s mouth waters when he sees how wet his husband is getting, how dark and thick he is. “S-steve,” he says shakily, once again wanting so badly to sink to his knees. “Let me suck you.” He starts to move, but Steve’s hand tightens harshly at the back of his neck, holding him in place.

“Uh uh,” he grunts, authoritative and smug. “You wanted to watch. So watch.” Bucky whimpers and Steve chuckles darkly at him. “It’s what you would’ve done if I hadn’t seen you, isn’t it?” he asks. “Kept watching?” Bucky can’t bring himself to answer, but Steve doesn’t seem like he’s waiting for a reply anyway. “Yeah, you would’ve. Horny little boy. You would’ve stood there in the dark and watched.”

Bucky moves closer and changes his angle, pressing his clothed cock to Steve’s thigh. Just that slight pressure feels amazing. Steve hisses under his breath and squeezes his cock tighter, and Bucky has to ball his own hands into fists to keep from touching either one of them. “Fuck,” he grits out in a harsh whisper when Steve grinds his thigh forward with purpose. “Ugh, Steve.”

“It gets you hot, huh?” he says. “Watching me jerk off? Seeing how your Alpha likes to touch himself when he’s alone?”

“Yes,” Bucky breathes, staring between their bodies and clinging to Steve, not ashamed anymore. Steve’s hand is so big, his fingers so strong and thick around his cock—His cock that’s wet and near to purpling, it’s so hard. Bucky eyes the darker skin at the base where his knot is. He’s thicker now, not blown yet but getting there. Bucky desperately wants to touch it. “Steve please,” he begs, all dignity gone. “Please let me. Let me just touch. A little?”

Steve grunts and starts stroking himself faster, obviously turned on by Bucky’s desperation. He scruffs him with the hold he’s got on the back of his neck. “No,” he grunts. He lets go, uses that hand to hastily shove his own pants and underwear past mid-thigh. Bucky groans as everything is bared to him, and Steve growls a dark, possessive sound. “Get down on your knees and watch.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck everything in the world that makes Bucky want so badly to obey his husband. He sinks to his knees, Steve pushing him down as he goes. With his face at the level of Steve’s dick, it’s even harder to keep himself from toppling forward and trying to take Steve into his mouth. But Steve hasn’t stopped stroking himself to give him the chance. Bucky whines like he’s an omega in heat being denied alpha cock, and he shuffles as close as he can, pressing his face to Steve’s leg, cheek against his thigh and lips only centimeters from where Steve’s fisting himself. Bucky groans at the overwhelming scent of him. “Alpha,” he breathes, because he wants it so bad. “Oh, God. Let me.”

Steve moans and keeps going. He’s close. Losing the tight, measured control from before, stripping his cock faster and faster.

Bucky’s gaze slides down to his balls, so big and heavy and pulled up tight now, ready to release. “Shit,” he breathes, one hand sliding down between his own legs without thought and grabbing his cock through the fabric of his sleep pants. He squeezes and gasps, looks at how the dark skin of Steve’s knot is swelling, imagines what that added girth would feel like if they were having sex, how it would feel bumping against his rim, or even … even pressing inside …

“Fuck,” Steve grits out, close. Bucky’s eyes fly up and they connect gazes, and it is the hottest moment of Bucky’s entire fucking life. “Baby,” Steve gasps. “M’gonna cum.”

“Yeah.” Bucky takes his chance. He leans in and puts his mouth on Steve’s knot, taking as much as he can reach from his position. Steve makes a noise like the air has been punched from his body, and his stroking stutters. His free hand grabs Bucky’s hair without mercy, pressing Bucky’s face into his crotch hard as he shouts and jerks himself off into climax.

Bucky comes with barely a squeeze to his own cock, and the feeling of Steve’s knot blowing right against his lips.

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kaely1916 · 5 months ago

Text

Go Get your Man! 🏃🏽‍➡️ pt1

Context: After everything that happened, Charles might be a little too overprotective with Edwin. After all, he almost lost his best friend for the third time in a week, so he had his reasons for deciding to secretly check on Edwin during one of his cartoon nights with Niko. What he didn’t expect to find was Niko helping Edwin get ready for a date.

“Charles, you’re going to make me dizzy if you keep pacing around my room like that.”

“It’s just... God, do you think I should go check on him? Just in case?”

“For heaven's sake, Charles, he’s only been gone for an hour and he’s with Niko. He’s fine.🙄”

“I know, I know... BUT what if something happened??? I can’t help but be all nervous when Edwin is out of my sight, Crystal. I’m worried.😩”

“You’re codependent, that’s what you are. Everything is fine. Besides, Edwin won’t be happy if you interrupt his night with Niko because you’re having an anxiety attack.🥱”

“First, I’m not having an attack. Second, he won’t know I was there if I don’t say anything.”

“This is going to blow up in your face, remember my words.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say. See you later.”

*Crystal tried to convince him again that it was a bad idea, but Charles was already passing the mirror.*

“Such an idiot.😮‍💨”

*On the other side, Charles traveled to Niko’s bathroom mirror, peeking through the door to see if Edwin was okay. He just needed to hear Edwin’s voice to know everything was alright and that he could come back, but the other’s words made him curious and he couldn’t help but see what was going on.*

“Niko, I look ridiculous.”

Edwin stood in the middle of the room, his usual Edwardian clothes completely replaced by tight black jeans and a blue turtleneck sweater, which was just... wow.

“You look incredible. That’s what you look! I knew that turtleneck would be perfect for you.”

(Oh, maybe he went to some clothes store with Niko. That’s cute. And judging by Edwin’s current outfit... damn, Niko was doing an amazing job.😳)

“When I asked you to help choose clothes, I didn’t expect such a radical change.”

“Foolishness. You, my friend, should know that I don’t do things halfway. Besides, this is your first date with that boy; you need to look gorgeous to wow him.”

(Okay... WHAT?😨) Charles almost tripped over himself if he hadn’t remembered to be incorporeal for a moment. (A date??? Edwin??? With who??🤨)

“It’s... it’s not an actual date, I think.”

(Oh, thank God.😌)

“Oh, come on. Meeting a guy to go for a walk together and visit some museums is definitely a date, Edwin!”

(Oh, fuck😔)

“Well... you might be right, but I don’t want to make a big fuss about this. This is still very new to me, you see.”

“Don’t worry. Everything will be great. Not every day a cute French ghost asks you out on a date! Relax and enjoy yourself. You deserve it. Have some fun with the French boy~~”

*Saying that Charles was speechless would be an understatement. His best mate was apparently going on a date with an apparently cute French ghost while he thought he was watching Scooby-Doo with Niko. Oh, the betrayal. He wished that was the only thing he felt, but no...*

“His name is Marcus and we are going to have fun, just not in the way your mind is suggesting.”

“You never know, my friend, you never know... Anyway, he’s close to being here, right?”

“Yes. Once again, I apologize for asking him to use your mirror, but I didn’t want him to go to the agency. That wouldn’t be professional.”

“And once again, I thank you for doing it. I’m dying to meet him!!! 🤩”

(Fuck. Now that guy was actually coming here to take Edwin out? To take Edwin away from him?? Hell no 😫) But before Charles could think about what to do, the mirror in Niko’s bathroom revealed a person.

“Good evening. May I enter?”

(He’s a freaking vampire or what?😒) The ghost looked more or less around their age, with black wavy hair and blue eyes, dressed in modern clothes and a red tie.

“Oh yes!! So nice to finally meet you. I’m Niko, Edwin is my best friend.”

“A pleasure. I’m Marcus. Edwin has told me a lot about you... Good to see you again, Edwin, you look very nice.”

“... T-thank you, you as well. I think we should be going. I don’t want to interfere with Niko’s sleep any more than I already have.”

“You guys don’t have to worry about me. In fact, do you want me to go with you?👀”

“We don’t need a chaperone, Niko. Thank you.”

“Fine, but you’ll have to tell me everything. With details! I expect to hear from you in the morning... unless you two are too busy tonight~~😏”

“GOODBYE, NIKO.💀”

*Edwin said, very embarrassed, while leaving with the other ghost through the mirror, his arm interlaced with Marcus’s. Charles was actually furious about all the advantages that guy was taking with Edwin.*

“You can stop hiding now, Charles.”

“You... you knew I was here?”

“I have very good observational skills, as does Edwin. You were really lucky he was all nervous about his date, or he would have found you too.”

“I... I was just...”

“Spying on Edwin’s first date?”

“No... I didn’t even know he had a date...”

“Oh, well, after what happened between you two, it’s normal that he didn’t know how to tell you.”

“You know??? Did Edwin tell you?”

“Well, he told me he had confessed to his friend but was rejected, and now they decided to just be friends. I just added two and two🤓.”

“I did not reject him!!! I... well, yes, we’re still friends... but I didn’t reject him! I never will! I told him that we have forever to figure out the rest...”

“Charles... are you in love with Edwin?”

“I... I don’t know.😟”

“Look, you’re my friend too and I love you, but you really need to figure this out sooner if you don’t want someone else to steal Edwin from you. Because he’s not going to wait for you forever... well, knowing Edwin, he probably would, but he doesn’t deserve that.”

“No, he doesn’t...”

“I think that for the first time in his life, he’s truly comfortable with himself, and because he thinks you rejected him, he’s starting to allow himself to date other people and experiment with what he really likes.”

“I... I know that... but... I’m just so scared of messing everything up... of not being good enough for him... of... losing him... I just... God, Niko, what if..😰.”

*Charles stumbled over his own words, fighting back tears.*

“Okay, so we’re doing this.😤”

“Doing what?🥺”

“Don’t worry, I’ve seen a lot of psychological animes.🤓☝🏻”

*And just like that, Niko guided him to lie on her bed while she sat in a chair beside him, with a little notebook and a pen in her hand, and a pair of glasses that God only knew where they came from.*

“Niko...😐”

“Shhh, everything is okay. This is a safe place. Now tell me in detail, where do you think these thoughts came from?🧐”

“Well...😔”

*After about two hours of therapy, Niko realized she would need more sessions, but at least she managed to get Charles to reach a conclusion.*

“Oh, fuck😦.”

“Yeah.��‍↕️”

“I’m such an idiot.😣”

“Yep.🙂‍↕️”

“I’m in love with Edwin too... God, I’m so in love with him. How did I not see it before?”😫

“Love makes us blind, Charles. Don’t worry. You’re not the first.”

“But... I’m too late. Nothing matters now... because Edwin is going with that French guy... he’ll probably forget about me...”

“Okay, Charles, I don’t know if you’re an idiot or just a disaster in love matters, but you’re crazy if you think Edwin has moved on from you.”

“What do you mean?🤨”

“1. Someone doesn’t forget a 30-year-old crush just like that. And 2. You don’t know how much I had to insist that Edwin accept the other offer.”

“Wait, what??? So you basically forced him to go on a date with a stranger he didn’t want to go with??😠”

“I may or may not have told him that seeing someone would help him forget his feelings for... well, you.😬”

“NIKO!!!👹”

“What??? It was before I knew you hadn’t rejected him, just that you were an idiot who loved him back but had too many problems to realize it🙄.”

“OMG, what am I going to do now?😫”

“Isn’t it clear? I know the direction of the museum where Edwin is going.😎”

“You don’t mean..😯.”

“Go get your man!🫡”

*Without wasting another minute, Charles quickly traveled to the mirror, hoping he wasn’t too late. Just wait a little longer for him, Edwin. He would definitely get things right this time.*

---

To be continued...

#charles rowland #dead boy detectives #charles x edwin #edwin payne #painland #payneland #dbda

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twyllodrus · 8 months ago

Text

dead boy detectives + ride the cyclone AU

like, say, the agency gets a new case in north-eastern saskatchewan, ppl report hearing music & singing once every year, at an abandoned warehouse of a theme park, on a specific day in september. with little digging, they find out there was an accident a while back involving a high school choir

for some reason the cyclone gang never moves on, so the agency arrives & so here are some headcanons for their interactions and agency's reactions to some of the songs:

the uranium suite, everyone's really creeped out/confused, except for niko who's vibing throughout the whole thing; at first the two groups don't realize they can see/speak to each other, but soon the cyclone kids find out that holy shit there are new people here hi hello heyy

everyone's excited about newcomers, ocean especially so, who quickly takes the initiative & so edwin defers to her as the group's leader (to noel's annoyance), and they attempt to work on solving the case together, it's all v civil. but then the talking part's over & the singing part of loop begins, so ocean performs what the world needs which does a total 180 on their encounter thus far & now everyone's high-key judging ocean; edwin gives a lecture on evils of social darwinism

noel's lament, noel right away clocks edwin as a repressed edwardian twink & sets out to put him in a coma with the whole monique routine. strangely the moment lipstick & lingerie come out it doesn't seem to faze edwin as much. but then noel also sees the way edwin sometimes looks at charles & so instead of mischa he pulls charles in for the kiss part, who cheerfully goes along with it, which nearly short-circuits edwin's brain (later on constance and niko get to gush together about two boys kissing). by the end of it everyone's dancing & being dramatic like they're the cast of cabaret on acid, except for edwin who's still digesting what's just happened

every story's got a lesson, everyone's still pissed at ocean, edwin incredulously wonders what was the lesson in being sacrificed to a demon & sent to hell at age 16

at first everyone's kinda cringing during this song is awesome, edwin is convinced this "autotune" is a modern tool used to commune with otherworldly entities, but eventually everyone gets into it; they all get sunglasses on, crystal gets edwin to wear a baseball cap backwards, everyone's having general fun

talia, charles is relived to learn that "the angriest boy in town", who could've been easily chalked up to being the toxic masculinity type dudebro, isn't like that at all (just mischa's whole monologue "i lay my masculinity at the altar of your maidenhood" gods). everyone gets to wear vyshyvankas & flower crowns. it's gorgeous

ricky potts unintentionally answers the age-old question of "is it actually possible to give a ghost an aneurysm?" the answer is yes, and space age bachelor man almost succeeds where the noel's lament failed. the moment horny cat people are in the mix, edwin is bombarded with cat king flashbacks and, later on, crystal "casually" mentions that they have met the actual cat king. ricky is super hype & asks lots of questions, giggling, twirling hair etc and also he totally called it that cats can talk but just choose not to

the ballad of jane doe, crystal hardcore relates to the dead decapitated girl, who doesn't know her own name or her past, or who her parents were and whom no one can identify too ("oh no soul, and no name, and no story, what a shame" like c'mon!)

jawbreaker/sugar cloud, everyone's gets a tad teary-eyed, but charles is openly weeping when constance lists all the random things in her life which she grew to appreciate only after the accident

in the end, they figure out the reason they couldn't move on is bc of virgil the rat who for some reason kept shutting karnak off prematurely, before the voting could begin. after figuring that out the voting proceeds as intended, but instead of one of them returning to the living world, they all get to move on. niko adopts virgil the rat

#dead boy detectives #ride the cyclone #edwin payne #edwin paine #charles rowland #crystal palace #niko sasaki #ocean o'connell rosenberg #noel gruber #mischa bachinski #ricky potts #jane doe #constance blackwood #virgil the rat #wonder what would charles' & edwin's catchphrases be if they were somehow part of the saint cassian mb smth like “brills“/”wait a tick”#:^) im just clowning dont mind me :^)

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raspberry-gloaming · 1 year ago

Text

I'm currently at a point where because I've got into Gallifrey, I follow or have at least browsed people's blogs who love other dweu stuff. And I thought it might be fun to say what I currently think and know about eu characters/companions so when I have in the future delved deeper into the eu I can look back and compare and laugh and see how much is accurate! There's gonna be a "read more" here because this gonna get Long.

Also please let me know what I've got right and not and also tell me more about these characters if you are fans of them!

Benny: starting off strong i know some stuff about her! she's an archeologist from the future (wonder if she ever met River) and she travelled with... one of the doctor(s)? Possibly Seven? She is besties with Brax and sometimes works for him and his collection. Probably must be able to put up with bullshit because of those last two points. Has a husband called Jason and at least one kid, which, iconic, female adventure and action protagonists should get to be mums more often its always the childfree so big up Benny for that. made a cameo at the end of Gallifrey IV.

Evelyn: I have heard her. A little. I basically skipped through the apocalypse element because I wanted to understand some of the reasons that Romana is the way she is in Gallifrey, but didn't listen properly because I got bored. Is an old lady, which is great - its great to see ages mixing it up a bit, instead of the 19-25 year old girl primary companions we consistently get in nu-who. Travelled with Six and is/was a professor at a university. Not sure for which subject though.

Fitz: Canonically bisexual and wears a leather jacket. I've seen A Lot of shipping him and Eight, and these shippers seem to have a similar vibe to Two/Jamie shippers. I don't know much else, except that his time with the doctor is probably fucked up because from what I have gleaned, Eight's companions Go Through It like big time.

Compassion: Faction Paradox which I believe is in an alternate universe (also the faction paradox timelines seem to have have a different vibe of names to the main universe ones, every time I'm on the "Individual Time Lords" category on the wiki and see a name that seems out of place it turns out to be a character from Faction Paradox.) Is a person (human i think?) but is also a TARDIS? Like you can go into her and travel? Where tf is the door this is very cursed. Also used as a breeding machine to make more TARDISes as well? By Romana? Idk but this seems pretty fucked up in an icky way. And fucked up in a non-icky way too. I'm just confused tbh. Not sure which doctor is involved in this one.

C'rizz - Possibly people can't say his name right? Is that him? Alien boy, travelled with Eight and Charley. That's about all I know.

Chris Cwej: I know even less about him, hes the other possibility for people mixing up his name or something. Think he travelled with Seven. Idk why but he gives me dick vibes.

Hex Schofield: Travelled with Ace and Seven. Is from 2021 or something and says "sus." Which yh that was a thing but he was made before among us existed that's a cool coincidence that it turned out like that.

Liv and Helen: They exist. That's it I know nothing more.

Molly O'Sullivan: Also exists. Travelled with eight?

Charley Pollard: Has a Nazi for a sister - Blind Eye my beloved. Calls herself Edwardian even though she's from the 1930s, idk if its like a character point or an accidental fuck up by the writers. Has a romance with the doctor in some form. And also a pretty messed up relationship with him i think. Actually just a pretty messed up time. Especially because I think she was in Scherzo which I hear Wild Blue Yonder was inspired by. So good luck girl you're gonna need it.

#doctor who audios #big finish #dw #doctor who #dweu #charley pollard #liv chenka #Molly O'Sullivan #Hex Schofield #bernice summerfield #c'rizz #chris cwej #doctor who compassion #evelyn smythe #fitz kreiner

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lunchtimebedamned1997 · 8 months ago

Text

Playing around with Charlie's Design!

Speedpaint and fun fashion/design ramblies under the cut :3 (I'm not a fashion historian, I just have a special interest in it and know too much about it XD)

Oops I kinda wrote an article XD

So, I've heard through the grapevine that Charlie is actually somewhere around 200 years old - and not only does that make Rosie's "Oh, come now Alastor, she's much too young for you!" even funnier, I think it also makes her more hopeful outlook and determination for change 1000% more nuanced and interesting, AND I think it gives a ton of super fun space to play in as far as for-fun redesigns go!

I've really only seen charlie in 'historical' contexts art-wise in relation to Alastor and the Charlastor of it all (my personal tastes in Hazbin fan content probably account for a lot of that skew though tbh XD)

I'm mainly going to be referencing UK, Europe, and the United States in terms of the fashions and 'culture' I mention, which, yk, Charlie is an angel/demon and not human but also very obviously white so LMAO it seems fitting? That is also where the largest amount of my historical fashion/culture knowledge lays since I am also white, from America, and currently living in the EU XD (Plus the more you start delving into history in countries with a primary language other than English (including in Europe) the more you hit the language barrier, trying to find translations - and if its cultural and not fashion-oriented you have to figure out if you can even trust those translations or if they're bullshit etc etc etc (I cry))

But okay, so here's my train of thought with the left design:

Most people seem to have their style and/or tastes solidify somewhere around their 30s, and if we assume Charlie is somewhere near 200 in S1, then that would place her 30s around the 1850s! Given though that even with access to modern tech in S1, hell (More-so pride than the other rings imo) seems a little behind the human world - I think it would be safe to assume that divide would be more stark the farther back in time you go. With this in mind, I decided to base the majority of Charlie's style 'undertones' between 1850 and the early 1900's (AKA: Victorian era through the very early Edwardian period)

So lets go top down?

First up: HAIR! In many cultures around the world, an 'of age' woman wearing her hair down was considered very taboo. A social faux pa, if you will. This is one of the many reasons why beautiful updos in eras and areas where hair was allowed to remain uncovered were so popular. To be able to achieve these elaborate styles (and/or to be able to braid and pin back the hair to keep it still, and properly covered in other times/places) the hair was grown quite long. Though, many seeking elaborate styles, especially those with thinner hair, often employed the use of 'hair rats' and/or fake hair to be pinned/braided into the style. Buuut that's verging into a tangent lol...

I pretty obviously went with a Gibson girl look on this one,

The concept of the "Gibson Girl" first appeared around the 1890s as an expression of the 'ideal', but of course, like most aesthetics of the modern era, such as those within the 'clean-girl' or 'dark-academia' it is often displayed within a realm of privileged, upper-class, and faux-perfection that is largely inaccessible to most people. But, as Charlie is a Princess I thought the 'upper-class elegance' of it would work far better than attributing a style more common among the working class to this design. But the Gibson girl unlike many 'ideals' of the past, was not entirely a projection of male desire. In fact, in many ways they stood in opposition to this. Gibson Girls often represented independence and freedom. Many portrayed in the concept were emancipated and in the workforce (by choice), seen cycling and (GASP!) wearing cycling trousers!!! XD

The Gibson girls asked for equal opportunity, social and educational reform, and sexual freedom. The 'modern' and 'disruptive' girls of the turn of the century. All of which, I think speaks towards Charlie's character. And having her hair back while working is an element of practicality we see Charlie employ in canon! And you might say, Liz, that was so long ago! She hasn't changed her go-to hairstyle??? No. Not in my world. (I'm having fun!) Besides, we all know the distinction between the messy bun friend and the high-pony friend. We all have the way of putting long hair up that becomes 'automatic', I don't think it would be wrong to assume that something like this (esp. given her natural hair volume, which would negate the need for hairpieces), that is pretty, and stays out of the way would be retired from her usual repertoire (idk if I've ever had to spell repertoire before. My first guess was so wrong) Also I think the loose curls coming down are pretty and help fend off some of the uptight-ness that can sometimes come from a modern gaze looking at older styles. Loose curls are romantic! Charlie is romantic! I rest my rambling case!

Secondly: Her earring!

I wanted to bring in a quick flash of modernity here, as well as add a cutesy Charlie-esque nod to her more alternative emo phase we saw she had when she was younger XD Plus it helps bring in some of the heart motifs the show is so fond of in a more subtle way which I think is fun! Also, fun fact; did you know that nipple piercings and nipple chains were a thing in the Victorian era? No joke! There are articles from the era written about it! Here's a modern article that's just a bit of fun about it with a good general overview :3

Third : The Top! So, for the shirt I wanted to go with something that was a pleasant blend between modern and historical! In this design, I tried to keep a lot of the essence of Charlie's look: Hair pulled back, nice blouse, some sort of neck tie, red pants, etc.

I didn't go quite as long with the cuff as is historical, but the long, flush-to-skin sleeve cuffs were seemingly pretty popular in the eras I took inspo from. I decided to make the cuffs black because I thought it looked nice, matched the bowtie, and created a sense of visual completeness with the black tie at the top and the cuffs at the bottom, esp. bc I went more 'textured'/'sheer' with the stripes.

You can also see, much like Charlie's OG design, we have high collars on the inspo pictures! however, I was worried Charlie was going to start looking a bit too matronly/snobby school mistress-y, and so I decided to implement a bit of modern flare into the collar, having it fold over the much daintier bowtie (which is truly more of a bow, but it does tie the shirt together quite literally, as I've left a very large opening in the neckline to show a bit more skin (still trying to beat the matronly) as well as accounting for non-stretch fabric without buttons. I cannot allow myself to design things that wouldn't work if I decided to try and sew them XD I just can't!!! Non-stretch fabric gives you that nice drape effect while still allowing for a certain amount of structure, as well as being - sigh - historicallllll lmao These days only natural fibers in a garment tend to be pricier/more of a luxury, but elastic didn't even exist until the early 1900s, and synthetic fibers didn't exist until the 1930s. Oh boy I'm starting to tangent - the shirt, Lizzie!

Black and white stripes bc I grew up as Tim Burton trash and my love for them has never faded + yk, hell, and Vivzie's general love of a similar vibe hehe. I also felt like Charlie could use a little bit of patterning somewhere in her design. The most detail we get in the OG is her hair striping. TBH I think it works in her OG design, showing off some of her more practical nature in the face of her rainbow crayon drawings, but I think the hair in this design helps a little in that respect and I wanted to have fun damn it! XD Not to mention that a plain color (especially white) would make the design feel too plain and too old imo, where as the stripes help create interest and add in a little fun w/o making it too busy :3 (Though I think if the stripes had been solid black it would be too busy. I didn't want too many 'flats' on her. Going for a different or more in-between shade helps a lot I think)

Fourth: The Pants This one is another blend of Historical and modern! (pls don't take a shot every time I typed historical u will be very ill or very dead :'( that would be sad)

Most obviously, I primarily brought back the red in her design here! Though, I did pull the darker color from her OG lapels rather than the color of her suit - I'm trying to get more comfy with more vibrant colors in my work, but I just really felt averse to using the bright red with this outfit. Even though Zippers were invented (/first patented???) in the 1850s, they didn't really start being used in garments until the 1920s-ish, and I also just think lots of buttons on pants are really pretty XD and hey, look, I used the brighter red from her OG suit for the buttons, r u proud of me?! (I think it's cute :3 I usually default to metal buttons in my art, but colored and fabric buttons are SO pretty! Button diversity needs to be addressed! I am calling myself out rn! Lizzie! Use more colorful/textured buttons in things!)

I know a lot of people still try and call for the death of capris, but y'all are kinda wrong (I'm sorry) (Not really) what you hate is wide-straight leg capris cut at the wrong length!!! Skinny, well-cut straight leg, or wide-leg capris are cute! Deal with it! I will fight you!!!!!! This specific silhouette (perhaps minus my very 1800's buttons lmao) is very 1950s/60s

And again, showing off a liiiiitle more skin to help keep her from looking too modest. She may be trying to reform people and the squishiest goody-goody, but we're in hell, toots. And it's not like she's a prude - or like she ever grew up with historical earthly morals Asmodeus and the sins are her aunts and uncles - enough said XD

Fifth - Shoes I didn't draw any. They intimate me, I wanted this drawing to be fun, and besides! Too many of these characters have hooves (literally just charlie and Al (?) lmao but I like those two shush) and I need to practice!!!!

Did I draw them well? Perhaps not? Idk, I didn't look at a reference, but I think they're cuuute! I squealed when we saw her little hoofsies in 'Hello Rosie' As for the right design, my only real note is that I included eyelet lace bc lace was all the rage in the times I was pulling from, and eyelet has always been my personal fav of the laces hehe ...yeahhh I just really wanted to draw Charlie in jammies XD

As a final note before the speedpaint, I made Charlie's body a bit curvier! This was for a couple reasons! (yes I'm a nerrrd, if you read all this you know hehe)

Prettyyyyy! Bodies are pretty! Pretty curves

As far as character shape language goes soft shapes + soft character = very harmonious Idk I just feel like Charlie would have a little more curve to her (in my universe anyway lmao) even though she's a tall gorrrrlll (They're all like, stupid tall lmao - do y'all realize Lucifer is probs actually like 5'6/7?! I'm 5'6!!! Val is like TEN feet tall!!! :0)

It's also a fun(? maybe the wrooong word - interesting) bonus that historically (IDK about the time periods I took inspo from, but generally), the bigger/curvier/plumper you were, the more people assumed you to be in higher social-standing. This was bc the wealthy tended to have access to more (and often, better) foods. Ofc partnered with not having to do manual labor, which generally tends to (esp. pre-industrial revolution) to cause one to be more muscular and have less physical softness (tho ofc genetics also play a part in this nuance nuance).

Plus, yk, goat features bc I did that in my Charlastor Painting and I really liked it! I considered adding horns this time bc I think they're so cute but I honestly just forgot. I'll have to play with that another time!

Oki, I gotta shush up and post this soon my whole browser is lagging SO HARD :( If any of you read to the end uh - holy crap??? Glad I was interesting to you! (pls talk to me about fashion and hazbin and history lmao my asks are open! Feel free to request!)

#my art #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin hotel #im sorry if there are typos i accidentally spent 3 hours writing this and now it's 4 in the morning - i'm so tiiiired holy crap #fanart #digital art #hellaverse fanart #ltbd rambles #character redesign #character studies #charlie morningstar #charlie fanart #charlie hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar fanart #historical fashion #speedpaint

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