#human society is.. troublesome.. to say the least

[pwurrz]

yakumo/quincy + edmond aka “i don’t really trust the knights but i definitely trust you.”

[bloodywankers]

tw; yandere, psychopath vs sociopath yandere, not proofread, 445 words | navigation

We often describe yanderes as psychopaths but i'm here to argue that a sociopath yandere would be a lot worse. 

Psychopaths are a lot more cold, maybe because of their lack of understanding of human emotion but they have no trouble following concrete rules. A psychopath can easily pass as a functional member of society. Sure, the way they love (if even at all) will be very different from the average person but you could spend your entire life not knowing your partner is one. They may not understand why you’re upset, but at least they know you are upset. 

In contrast, a sociopath is a lot more irrational, impulsive and all. You could say their biggest flaw is their emotions, they know right from wrong. Unlike a psychopath who may follow rules despite not understanding the purpose behind them, sociopaths just dont care for them. They cannot live a normal life and they will make it your problem. They know hurting you is wrong, but, does it really matter? Especially when it brings them so much joy to see you beg at their feet? They’ll rationalise it one way or another. 

Psychopaths would be a lot more delusional but easier to manage because they are straightforward, do as they want and you should be fine, unless they benefit more from you being dead then alive. Maybe you’re about to reveal their true nature, that would be troublesome so they’re left with no other choice. It’s your own fault, really. They may come off as cruel but it's not intentional, their course of action is just the most rational thing to do in order to ensure their self preservation. 

Whereas, a sociopath would be more lucid in my opinion. They simply don’t care, as long as they have what they want but that in and of itself is impossible when you can’t figure out what it is that they want. Things are never so straightforward with them, not when one moment they are as kind as an angel and the next they look at you as if they’ll kill you any moment now. Their constant fits of anger and inconsistent behaviour make them hard to predict and that leads to your downfall. Behaviour that was perfectly fine to them before might suddenly become the root cause of an outburst and you’re the only one who comes out hurt from that.

Of course, I’m not saying these are the only two personality aspects possible, there are a lot more nuances to this but this is the impression I got from my minimal research into this topic. 

[itsnothingofinterest]

Since I have you, btw, I’d like to address something that I don’t see you bringing up very often in your posts: the place that civilians have in the absolute mess that is hero society.

In MHA’s society, heroes are put on a pedestal as being the answer to all of society’s problems, the ones who will always save the day. Tenko’s story is emblematic of this; he needed help, and the so-called “good citizens” paid him no heed or told him to wait for a hero, because they didn’t consider it their job to help him. Thus, he was taken in and groomed by AFO, leading to the current situation.

A lot of your posts talk about how the heroes haven’t substantially changed and how the new generation doesn’t seem to be surpassing the old one as much as they should, but… how much better can you really expect them to be? They’re basically super-powered cops or soldiers. They’ve been trained to be the blunt instruments of society, upholding public order even when that order isn’t necessarily good. And while it’s great that heroes like Izuku and Ochako are thinking beyond that, I don’t think they can or should be made to take all the responsibility on improving things. Just because they’re superhuman doesn’t make them gods. They just can’t do it all (again, especially due to the influence of their training and the corrupt government).

I don’t expect a MHA II, and even considering that possibility, I’m not really sure it would address your complaints with the heroes. Personally, what I’m hoping for is that the civilians follow up on what was said after Ochako’s speech. They should answer her call, mobilize, get the fallen heroes and villains to safety, and after the war, they should factor heavily into how society improves for everyone. That’s my take on things.

(Kind of in response to this post.)

Well I do think a change in the civilian mindset is a potential solution to the faults in hero society, or at least a part of one. (It’d need to be quite a dramatic shift to help more than just the Tenkos of the country though.)

If I may broaden the topic a bit, I'd say in general that any kind of solution I’m looking for would involve some drastic change in one or more levels of hero society to save the people current-day heroes are sweeping under the rug. Could be the heroes, could be the civilians, & government's a longshot but would that work if it happened. That said, relying on the civilians here and now, as we last saw them for that is a bit…well…

The Civilian level

Alright so; my main problem with putting all this on the civilians right now is, even when they let Deku in under Ochako’s prompting, many only ultimately agreed to take Deku in that day when promised a return of the status quo. That deal was even a significant part of Ochako's speech. So they didn’t come out of that looking ready to better the world to me (even before we factor in them triggering Danger Sense when demanding he leave.) And even then, if we took that decision in the best possible light, that’s just one step in the direction of solving just one of the many problems that led to the League destroying so much. Let's not forget their troublesome mindset towards any unseemly quirks like Shinsou's, Toga's, or any heteromorph. And just, in general the civs have a shorter track record of being helpful then...the opposite. It's just hard putting everything, all the hopes for this country pulling its head out of its arse, on one scene of the civs agreeing to house a hero in exchange for the heroes doing their job, you get me?

I mean like, I certainly can get behind the idea of the civilians changing to better help each other not fall to tragic villainy or excuse corruption; they just don’t feel there yet in the same way the kids don’t/haven’t felt ready to save their villains yet.

(To say nothing of how humanity in MHA has a shelf life of around a century at best. And no one left on any side cares to do anything about it even for selfish reasons. So it really feels like small steps towards getting their act together are not the way to go, if for no other reason than another crisis will soon make them all very busy.)

Also, and this is minor in the grand scheme, but we should remember that there are no civilians anywhere near any battleground in this war besides hospital patients and the Todorokis; the rest are all evacuated. So I’m afraid likely we can't end the war with them helping with the clean up and getting folks to safety, and thus build this idea of them carrying their weight going forward. Best we could get is an epilogue with little additional build up of having them all clean up their act. And I'd question the writing of that happening, & that being the big solution to everything that got use here.

The Hero level

Regarding the heroes; well to be honest I don't see a ton of trouble with putting this on them when saving as many as they can is what heroes are supposed to do. Yes under the current system, they’re just super cops in practice; but that’s a flaw in the system capable of being mended, not some unavoidable part of the ideal they’re trying to embody. There's plenty of room for what heroes are to grow to what they should be.

‘Plus I don’t think any Deku-types would really be opposed anyway, he wants to save everyone already, and it feels like the idea of heroes sweeping aside those they don’t save hits home for him’...that’s what I had written before the last chapter dropped while writing this and supported everything I’m saying*. For all I criticize Deku & his classmates; we all know he wants to do more, to save more. Give him the chance & a good idea how and he’ll jump at “shredding the rug with his own hands.”

Maybe it is, from a certain perspective, unfair to say they all need to be like this. But I get the distinct impression that this is what a lot of the hero characters want to be; this is part of the ideal they want to embody. After all, in the aftermath of his forced retirement, even All Might wanted to save Tomura.

(*Btw, sorry this took a bit to write.)

The Government

Ah yes, and it'd be remiss of me to ignore how much of this stems from seeming government policy and general societal reaction to quirk based topics (though there may be overlap there & civilian attitudes). But I want to post this answer sometime this week; so I won't get too into the poor handling of quirks since their inception, the correlating quirk laws, just...the hero commission in general (where would I start?), the effects all this has on hero training as you brought up, or the prison where people get sent for life with no trial or parole. (I don’t care if they’re all supposed to be monsters, especially when we know that’s where they’d have sent Toga & Dabi had things gone differently. “But Tartarus was destroyed,” Yeah but why would they not make a new one?) And probably other stuff I'm forgetting off the top of my head. But suffice to say, there’s a few messes that could be cleaned up there too.

Conclusion

So I guess one way or another, the solution I’m looking for is some dramatic shift in hero society on one or more of the civilian, hero, or government levels to address the causes of the League's fall to villainy. Any combination could hypothetically work.

But the reason I never shut up about a my hero part 2 is that none of them feel like they’re in a state to work like that now. Heroes & civilians on their respective wholes have both made small steps in the right direction and I don't want to downplay that (leadership not so much but what else is new), but both elements need more time & development to accelerate these steps and feel like we could trust them to get anything done in the next century.

[whereisthedamnlostandfound]

A study of Allogenes and their shared traits with their vision.

The ones blessed with Pyro are passionate, energetic. They know what they want and they go for it like the all-consuming flame they represent. Look at Miss Klee of Mondstadt, her chaos knows no bounds and her love of explosions is… troublesome to say the least.

Those who have been graced with the power of Cryo are secretive, lonely. They don't fit in, standing at the fringes of polite society like those left out in the cold. Lady Kamisato Ayaka, the ever-graceful eldest daughter of the Kamisato clan, stands on a dias elevated away from the people and stares jealously as they live their lives unrestricted.

The ones who wield the power of Anemo are consistent, they persevere. When everything is said and done, they will still be there, same as always; for the wind never changes. The Vigilant Yaksha has spent thousands of years protecting Liyue fiercely from demons- both outside and inside.

Those who are touched by the power of Geo are steadfast, confident. They know their path and, as immovable as the earth, they walk it no matter what comes their way. See diligent Noelle, who works as a maid for the Knights of Favonius in hopes she will one day join their ranks.

Those who are gifted in the power of Hydro are loyal, loving. They love who they are loyal to and they will be whatever the one they love needs; be it hurricane or lagoon. Take Tartaglia as an example. He stands as the epitome of a storm- violent, destructive, and ultimately, short-lived.

They who have been bestowed the power of Electro are proud, unique. They create their own path with their chin up high; for when lightning strikes, it cares not what others think. Cyno, the General Mahamatra embodies this trait as he hunts down those who would break the Academia's rules.

The ones who have been bequeathed the power of Dendro are settled, comfortable. They have made their home and will stay; for a plant is not easily uprooted. Young Kirara, of Komaniya Express notoriety, has made the entirety of the human realm her home and strives to know more about it every day.

[hush-writes-preg]

i’ve been wanting to say this for a while, and im still not sure i’m gonna say it right, but i really appreciate your blog. i’ve been having issues with my ovaries for a while and it’s still not clear if i’m fertile or even gonna get to Keep my ovaries much longer. it’s been really stressful, because i really want to be able to get pregnant, and i might never be able to. but one of the worst parts is that i’m transmasc, and a lot of people- including my own family- can’t wrap their heads around being a man and wanting to be pregnant. even other transmascs seem to think i can’t actually be trans and genuinely want this. people pity me cus they think Society is what made me feel this way, and they have to “help” by convincing me this is something i don’t actually want.

you and all your followers have been the opposite of that. seeing so many other transmascs who openly (and sometimes desperately) want to experience pregnancy has made me feel like so much less of an other. seeing people who aren’t transmasc but have transmasc friends/partners being so encouraging and supportive when this is something they want has felt so validating. it’s such a positive and welcoming environment here, and it’s so comforting.

so i guess the main takeaway is everyone should keep being horny, because there’s at least one person who really appreciates it.

Hey there, Aster! Thanks for hopping into my inbox with your kind words! 💖

I've said it before, and I'll continue saying it long into the future for old and new followers alike-- this blog exists because I believe that everyone deserves the opportunity to feel appreciated, validated, and seen in regard to this kink. I don't care what parts anyone was born with, what parts anyone has now, or what anyone's age(18+)/gender/sexuality is. Anyone can feel the desire to be pregnant or to impregnate someone else, and that feeling should be celebrated.

I'm sorry to hear that you've had so much trouble with your original plumbing, Aster, and that you aren't sure if you'll be able to conceive. That's a really shitty situation to be in when you actually want to get pregnant. I've known a few people on Tumblr who are in similar health-related situations, and I just wish I could give all of you a big hug (if it's wanted). It's really not fair. The universe is pretty shit for allowing that to happen in the first place. But you're not alone, okay? I don't know how much comfort that offers you, but there are folks out there who commiserate, understand what you're struggling with, and hope that you'll be able to eventually find happiness regardless of what happens.

And yeah... family and society can suck big time sometimes. OFC you can't be male and want to carry a child, right? /s In my opinion, those people are nothing more than gatekeepers who have no business being involved in your body and business. The knowledge that these kinds of opinions are so commonplace really pisses me off. The desire to procreate is a ridiculously ordinary (though not universal) part of being human, so why shouldn't anyone be allowed to use the parts they have to make a baby if they want to? Or be allowed to find other reasonable ways to make it happen? :throws-table.gif:

Ugh. I'll get off of my soapbox now.

All that said, if the space I'm nurturing and the community we're all building is one of support, encouragement, and affirmation, then that's a dream fulfilled for me. We may be stuck feeling like an Other elsewhere thanks to societal stupidity, but not here. Here we're all as incredible and sexy and fertile as we wish to be, and I refuse to hear otherwise.

You're awesome, Aster. Try to stay positive, do what you can to take care of your troublesome bits, and love yourself the way you are. And if you ever need to vent about this stuff, my DMs are open, okay?

I adore all of you horny, breedable fuckers. 💖 Don't any of you forget it.

[zedecksiew]

Three Objects

Sketching has been good at breaking up the misery of staring at a manuscript and being stuck. At least with the drawing I'm roadblocked by my lack of skill rather than my lack of ideas. There are things from an adventure I am currently writing for Colin Le Sueur’s We Deal In Lead. It began as a homage to Wisit Sasanatieng’s tomyamgong western Fa Thalai Chon / Tears Of The Black Tiger.

+++

WIDOW GON'S PALANQUIN

A broad teak throne: canopied, curtained, cushioned. Stinks of tobacco.

Its bearers: the captive brothers Khol. Every night Lady Sao Rai visits their garage, selects a brother, and fucks him in her grandmother's palanquin.

The Khols are too afraid to refuse her.

+

The Widow is matriarch of House Gon. It will be her fiftieth birthday, soon. An elaborate fete is planned.

Captives are found across the sea, created through poverty, criminal sentences, or legal abduction. By Admiralty law, a captive must go free once they earn their owner their original price, a hundred times over.

In practice, few owners obey.

+++

It should be obvious what captives are. I ding-donged with myself about the nomenclature, here.

A simple reason for avoiding the word "slave" is because most people think "transatlantic slave trade" as soon as you say it. If nothing else I want to avoid the association because it is inaccurate.

On the other hand: annoying to have to decenter Southeast Asia in this way! The equivalent of having to say "chai tea" when I should be able to say "tea", because that is what the word means to me!

(I strain against this specific problem often.)

Finally I decided "captive" was good, after all. This kind of legalistic euphemism ("Oh, they aren't slaves, they are indentured servants.") is exactly in character for rich assholes bending language to assuage their consciences.

+++

HOUSEHOLD PSYCHOPHONE

Listening room: settees; shelf of wax-cylinder records; a podium on which sits a psychophone.

Pop a cylinder into the psychophone, point its antenna at a servant wearing the receiving brooch, listen to them sing in an alto entirely not their own.

+

Psychophones have been ruinous to local performers. Once-celebrated local singers have been reduced to glorified loudspeakers: vessels for the voices of famous chanteuses from across the Ocean.

This home entertainment system requires at least two to operate:

One servant (or more commonly a servitor) to turn the crank;

One servant to serve as a receiver-singer.

A receiver-singer's health eventually suffers. When you have somebody else's voice (and soul) forced into you over and over, and you begin to lose your own …

+++

This one was troublesome. Felt like production design. Appliance design.

Had several goals:

The core mechanism has to look like it makes sense, to its own internal logic. No greebling; every bit needs to look like it has a purpose.

Lots of ornamentation. This is a luxury device belonging to aristocrats from a rococo Indochinese-inspired society. It needs to be a jewelbox.

Genteel normalisation of vicious magic. The needle made of bone; the antenna that is basically a massive needle pointed at your head---but disguised as a pretty bird.

The receiver-brooch is something I discovered while sketching. Seems gameable? Also, in the spirit of point 3: the brooch has a pin you stick in your forehead.

+++

GHOST WATER

Auw Yin Yan, the Sea of Sorrows---of Sighs.

Imagine bodies in a mass grave the size of a country. Imagine them luminescent, in motion. Pulled by the moon, waved by the wind, clawing at the quay.

+

Always forms into human shapes: when poured into a bowl, ghost water sits as a balled fist.

Like saltwater in most respects. The Sea teems with marine life, though these are cunning and cruel in human ways. Humans cannot swim ghost water. Do not fall in.

Ghosts wear the outfits and injuries they had at death. Rarely, one will crawl onto land, eyes open, a hungry ghast.

+++

Yeah, so: the wider campaign setting for this adventure is defined by the Sea of Sorrows. It has whales and islands and pirates. It is filled with ghosts instead of water.

I saw the Sea in my mind as a vast Escher-esque tangle of interlocking ghost-bodies.

A wave would be bodies flinging themselves on a beach; their arms and hands dragging on the sand as they pull back into the surf.

I drew a way simpler visual. And the ghost's hair is cheating: it already looks like water.

Still: very pleased with this sketch. Gentle, sort of sweet, quietly creepy. Also it is a modest bailing bucket, which contrasts with the material excess of the palanquin and psychophone.

+++

[parieha-aaa]

alright you guys wanted it , so here it is . below the cut is a " ( romantic ) shipping guide " for my muse , ryomen sukuna . this post will essentially detail anything i think is vital when being involved in a romantic relationship with him , or getting close to him at all .

beware , there is information under the cut about gore , violence , cannibalism , war , and terror . this man , this curse , isn't easy to stomach for most people and even less likely to romance . his information will not be typical , he isn't even human , he hasn't been human in three millennium at least . tread carefully . this will CONTAIN STORY SPOILERS .

first and foremost , ryomen sukuna is a human that existed 3000 years back during the heian era . this much is concrete canon , but here we'll get into headcanon territory and other noncanonical material , so do keep that in mind , this pertains to my headcanon ryomen sukuna compared to canon sukuna . my ryomen sukuna's human years were spent as an instructor of jujutsu , much like satoru , working under the watchful eye of the surrounding society and bowing to their whims for some time . he only began to push his limits when he began to operate outside their rules ; developing a cursed technique , finding new methods to utilize cursed energy that was seen as troublesome and dangerous to be experimenting with at the time . though sukuna had a few students , he didn't have any near the end of his life as a human , and put forth all his energy into finding new and interesting ways to weaponize jujutsu and cursed energy . he was a master of it by the time that the elders found out what he was doing , planning to toppel the established government of the real , very much normal world , which meant killing the reigning emperor , emperor kammu .

however , since sukuna grew up during this time , he's well versed in all manner of poetry , most of all in haiku . although this isn't to say he was the one writing it , since he was the current most powerful sorcerer , many of those around him seek HIS hand rather than the other way around . so , that's to say ryomen is used to having women and men looking to court HIM rather than HIM having to do anything for anyone else . he refuted them all , of course , no matter how extravagant the display . he did not marry , he did not have children , he was the only ' sukuna ' , his lineage was dependent on him & him alone . he quite preferred it that way . that being said , he was quite the cultured individual , he attended plays and theater , spent his time mingling with the higher class and aristocracy . looking at him in modern day , it might be hard to imagine that people would once look forward to seeing him anywhere for any reason .

that is to say his first execution interrupted his plans & his reign as a sorcerer , and began his life as a curse . this is when his ' beautiful ' face was transformed , when he was stripped of his sorcerer prestige , but went on wrecking havoc as a curse . with uraume at his side , up until the day of his death , he finds himself in a sort of existential limbo . yet , thanks to sheer fortitude , he kept his sanity in tact until he was incarnated into the modern day .

in the modern day , much of what sukuna was once honored for is seen as barbaric and offensive , par for the course when dealing with the changing times . one of the few things that he's happy to have kept is the pretty face , or rather , happy to have acquired it . in the heian era , a pretty face was indicative of good nature , and he uses that to his advantage . getting him to approve and tolerate your muse isn't difficult , sukuna wouldn't say he's asking for too much ; just your absolute and utter loyalty and , if he can't have that , then what use are you ? if you're not powerful yourself , why should he regard you at all ? he values power . raw , unadulterated , strength . but being that he is also a teacher , if he sees potential , he's not against helping and pointing out what you need to work on , like he does with megumi multiple times . just quit listening to that brain dead modern day sorcerer and listen to me . i can train you . i can help you . i can make you something worthy . he sees this as , not manipulating , but a genuine favor .

ryomen is also , like satoru , demiromantic . he has an interesting view on sexuality , especially since he sees it as a means to an end instead of romantic . so that brings us to his dates -- and his dates are simple , refined , but simple ; just being in the same room together is good enough , doing your own things , not necessarily together . he likes music , mostly traditional style . he is a big fan of peace and serenity , incense , candles , red lacquer , all those things are gifts that he would like .

that being said . he doesn't want to hear " oh how could you do this " or " that's terrible " when he's eating people and human limbs . it's a quick way to end up on the receiving end of dismantle . however , this does mean hearts , human hearts , are a big deal , and he'll accept them as gestures of romance . he'll be eating it though , as a reciprocation gesture .

he is terribly possessive though . and i mean possessive in a bad way . he'll chain you down if he thinks you might run away . or he'll break your legs if he gets even the inkling of a feeling that you'll flee . if he doesn't have your word , you're a liability . after all , that's another thing about sukuna ; he is lonely at the top , but he , unlike satoru , has accepted it , and accepted that no one will be capable of reaching him . it's simply not possible . simple humans , simple as ever , could not and would not ever be at his level . it's a sad , 3000 year realization .

[thoughtfulfangirling]

It was a while ago now, but I saw a video presumably from BookTok, where a reader was saying how they enjoy thinking about how different books talk to each other. It seemed like a neat concept, but I didn't really think too far into it despite having literally done it for a professor's book. In my defense, I had to find articles relating to the same/similar materials as my professor was even if they weren't aiming to say the same or opposite things.

But this year, several of my books have seemed to speak to one another in various ways - obviously unintentionally or unknowingly.

The first thread is a pretty thin one. You Made a Fool out of Death with your Beauty has a prominent theme of grief and overcoming it. The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek features a lot of grief, but more prominently, going into it as the protagonist loses a little boy she befriended, a regular client, and has several more major losses (even if not death exactly) throughout the book she has to figure out how to navigate. So that story is more of moving from the thread of coming out of grief and the later moving into it.

Then The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek spoke loudly to me in concert with Meru. I talked about it more in depth here before I'd gotten deep into Meru. The gist of it is that the protagonist of TBWOTC has a disability that would only really be considered a disability because of how society treats her as a result of genes that make her look different. This hinders her life at every turn, denying her opportunities. Meru sees its protagonist provided a huge opportunity and honor because of her particular disability. The other protagonist of Meru gets disabled partway through the book and is offered a chance to inhabit a new body entirely to get out of being disabled. Doing so would have used important time though and is denied without hesitation despite the disability having massive effects on what ze is capable of.

Meru is a sci fi set far into the distant future where one of the core beliefs of society is that all things, even inanimate things, deserve a certain level of dignity and worth. As a result, they are very careful about where they get resources and what affects their actions have on the environment around them. Though half the sentient beings live in space, even there permanent structures are very rare as such things affect the world around it and can get in the way of things nature orbit/state/etc. (This is why our protagonist with Leukemia is given her rare opportunity. The planet discovered has a higher level of oxygen, and humans are not allowed to terraform other planets out of respect for the planet. She is sent to see if she can live there with her genes being more likely to suit the planet than the planet needing to suit humans.)

I read then Watching the Tree, which is written by an Asian America who emigrated to the US from China. She is writing about philosophies and concepts Westerners might find value in considering or adopting or just hearing about. In it, she talks about Zen Buddhism, where everything is sacred. This had more of a focus on all life being sacred and spends a while talking about how varying levels of vegetarianism is common in China as a result of this belief saturating the culture, but she does mention that it includes even things like rocks and soil. Meru uses a heavily Indian (Sanskirt) culture as the dominant (at least human) culture, so it was neat to see the values in the sci fi fiction before then reading about a philosophy mentioned to stem directly from an Indian belief system (Buddhism. It became Zen Buddhism in China it appears). (The section on written language in China spoke heavily to the first book I read of 2023, Four Treasures of the Sky. I guess it should have been obvious to me, but I never thought about it, how Hanzi (I believe), a pictographic written language, is not at all phonetic and therefore Cantonese, Mandarin, etc can all use the same written language but not at all be the same. It absolutely makes sense that such characters would carry more weight.)

The Watching Tree also discusses some differences of languages between English and those spoken in China. Yen Mah mentions how our words are categorized nicely into things like nouns, verbs, adverbs, etc. In her book, she mentions how just about any word in Cantonese (I believe that's the language she spoke growing up?) can take the place of any of those spots. A word that we would think of as a noun can take the place of a verb and vice versa. She also mentions how there is no 'to be' and that a line like "To be, or not to be" does not translate neatly between the two languages. It is more like to say 'to exist or not exist.' All of which I think Ocean Vuong may be trying to convey in On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous when writing dialogue for the protagonist's Vietnamese family members who do not know English. I can't say with any certainty whatsoever if Vietnamese languages follow these sort of semantics, but the dialogue often sounded broken to me as an English speaker even when it was clear they had to be speaking to each other in their native tongues. I could be misinterpreting, and maybe they were showing that they were speaking in English, but it's neat to think there was an attempt to focus the translations how they speak to each other as opposed to suiting an English speaking audience.

And I just finished On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous today! So I guess we'll see what the rest of the year brings me in terms of books that speak to each other! There may be a small seed already between the history of the characters in On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous as being products of the war in Vietnam and the politics being talked about in Last of the Romanovs, but if so, I can't quite articulate it yet!

It'll be an interesting reading year!

[straycatboogie]

2023/03/25 English

BGM: Tears For Fears - Shout

Today I worked early. At lunchtime, I remembered my life itself. In short, my life is strictly connected with the label "autism". I have been lived a troublesome life because of this autism. Therefore, that autism were connected with my identity strongly, and I believed that "because I am autistic, I am unhappy", and also "autistic people must be treated as useless" strictly. Yes, now I can say I was really an idiot clearly. Now I think that autism is one of many personality in myself. In me, there are many essences of my identity. I am a man who loves a woman (in other words, I'm heterosexual), and a Japanese, and also a fan of Haruki Murakami... I don't need to shoulder the label autism. Indeed, I have many troubles because of this autism, but it is also foolish that living this life with that kind of "black or white" thinking.

In 2007, I did a test for checking if I was autistic, and learned how much my IQ could be. I don't want to declare how much it was, but I thought deeply as "the world can be unfair", and also "my life shouldn't be blown by this number of IQ only". Today, a person I know (he says he is "gifted") said that "making the society high IQ people can live happily", and it let me down. I believe that it can be really cruel that judging people by the number of IQ (because it is just a number of every person). At least, I can't see how different this kind of judgement of treating IQ too preciously (and praising high IQ people as amazing) and the notorious "eugenic thought" which had been used as the tool of discrimination (we should see that the action of judging some people as amazing can also be the action of judging the rest of them as less amazing).

I am never smart. At least, I believe that I don't rely on my smartness when I think or feel about something. I think the speed of reacting never be the meaning of smartness. I can do mistakes because I am not Artificial Intelligence. I can think wrong ideas. It is the meaning of the fact I am a human being. I believe humanity from the fact that I am only a human being. One of the differences between Artificial Intelligence and I can be the tenderness based on that humanity (I think I know that how the word "I am tender" can sound proudful and also foolish)... these were the things I thought through Twitter. I believe the humanity I have built by all of the past, and try to be honest to myself. Not being afraid of making mistakes, confessing my opinion. I wanted to do that.

After today's work, I went back to my group home. Today I couldn't read any books (just read Keizo Hino's short stories and essays). Maybe I had thought about the things I wrote above deeply. Enjoying Brian Eno and Yutaka Hirose... Reading the essay about Brian Eno by Keizo Hino, I learned that Hino writes about J.G.Ballard. I never read Ballard's "The Crystal World". A lot of books are still what I have never read... but how long I can live? I can't see. How many times I can watch such beautiful sakura flowers? Indeed, it is still too early. But it is natural that my life is already in a halfway (turning point), so I should live the rest of my life elegantly with using the things I have learned. This idea tells me that my life is really well-made. Until now, I did practice. So from now I will do practical action. I am not gifted, but walk my way.

[papergirllife]

Huang Renjun

Gumiho (fox spirit)! Renjun x human reader

warnings : bondage, overstimulation, cream pie, Renjun is a fox spirit so he’s 900 years old.

Rumours of gumihos lurking amongst human have resurfaced in Seoul, making the group of young looking men who are nearing their 900s angry. Renjun hasn’t had the chance to feed as much as his other friends, constantly getting rejected by people who think he isn’t sexy enough or downright ‘unfuckable’. What happens when he stumbles upon a beautiful girl who only has eyes for him in the nightclub? Nearly a hundred people but you only have eyes for him, Renjun finally has some luck tonight.

a/n : this is my last fic for kinktober, please look forward to Jeno and Haechan’s fics for my halloween event!

A fox spirit, gumiho, is popularised by the copious amount of dramas based in this folklore that in reality, is far from how dramas have depicted it.

Renjun likes his coffee black, bitter, two shots of espresso with a hint of cinnamon was his go to caffeine kick every morning as a famous artist in South Korea.

Renjun doesn’t go by his name, in this century, he chose to go by the name ‘yellow’, telling the media that he prefers being anonymous. Renjun has been roaming the earth for seven hundred years now, and would most probably be here until the humans completely destroy this world.

He scowls at the teenage girls in front of him, seeing another gumiho drama shown on their screen, it was troublesome to have dramas spinning lies about gumihos, whenever there was some grusome crime that was committed by some psychopath, people would assume it’s done by supernatural creatures, and one of the many creatures they’d guess is gumihos, which is the dumbest guess ever.

To the supernatural society, the most dangerous creatures are the sirens at sea, they were the ones who caused that massive shipwreck, solely because they were ‘depraved’ of men and had a fish shortage because of the humans, eating the women and keeping the men in cages, the gumihos had to save a portion of the men and wipe their memories, and some women who they were ‘saving’ for the next meal, Renjun never understood how scent and taste work with sirens.

For gumihos, they consume sexual energy, which is why they carry the least amount of threat towards human kind, gumihos needed humans, although they can be very annoying and most times down right brainless, gumihos needed humans to feed, and in return, humans had a good time, gumihos are infamous for being good in bed, with centuries of practice.

Finally receiving his coffee from the barista, he drives his car to a high rise building in Gangnam, his friend, also a gumiho, Chenle owns a business that he started up in China when the country had experienced its economic boom, which is why he’s so rich.

When he got there, he could see Chenle drinking red wine from his own brand. Jeno and Jaemin discussing something on the plush velvet couch, the latter talking animatedly with abrupt gestures while the other listens intently, but everyone ceases their actions when Renjun steps in.

“Renjun! Finally!” Chenle says, checking his apple watch for the time.

“You’re ten minutes later than usual, even Hyuck is here, but he’s flirting with one of my employees at the lobby, Mark or something, poor guy,” Chenle says with a shake of his head, laughing as he recalls the boy stuttering at Hyuck’s blatant flirting.

“Got held up by a bunch of teens, and guess what? There’s another gumiho drama, those humans always cook up old folklores, don’t they?” Renjun says in an annoyed tone as he plops onto the matching armchair.

“Don’t be so mad over it, at least they’re painting us as good guys, imagine if they started talking about those sirens as good guys, those bitches would be cackling in broken Beethoven,”Jaemin joked.

“Still, they make us seem like sappy romance puppies when we’re just in it for the sex,” Renjun said, cringing whenever he sees another ‘gumiho’ falling for a human.

“Why didn’t you teleport here if you were running late?” Jeno asked.

“Wanted to save energy, unlike you two, it’s hard to get laid when you’re on the smaller size, I try picking up girls and they say I’m too ‘tiny’ for them, like the sleaze they bought home would’ve been better than me in bed,” Renjun said, as his two friends tried not to laugh, but failed almost immediately, bursting out laughing.

Gumihos didn’t need to work out, working out would only increase your strength by a little bit, even if you get to Jeno’s size, the only reason his friends worked out is because it’s easier to get girls with their built, but to Renjun, if he bulked up like Hyuck did the past two years, he’d look stout with his height, so he’d rather not.

“Maybe you should change up your hair a bit, you have the personality, but the hair makes you look like Peter pan more than a girl’s next conquest look,” Hyuck says, strutting in with messy hair and disheveled clothing.

“Look who’s finally here, that was almost an hour since you came, how many rounds you even went?” Jeno asks.

“2, we both topped, best dicking I had since a long while, you hire the best people,” Hyuck said to Chenle.

“Just don’t drain him, I actually need my employees to work, not just for you to pick up easy food,” Chenle reminds him.

“Yeah, yeah, and about that hair,” Hyuck snapped his fingers before Renjun felt his hair change, Renjun takes a look at the mirror nearby, noting how Hyuck had gave him blonde streaks underneath the brown, his hair longer than usual.

“Not bad, but if I don’t get a girl at tonight’s party then I’m changing it back.”

Clubbing was feeding time for gumihos, they recognise some of their own kind doing the same, being in a close proximity was an excuse to touch people, which meant they could feed easily without having sex, it was the easiest way to feed, but this just gives you a small amount of energy, Renjun is hungry for someone’s high, which is what gives gumihos the most energy.

His two friends were already being latched onto by some girls, their nicely manicured nails digging into their bulging biceps, leading them to the dance floor while Hyuck stays with Renjun, saying he’s had enough from today to go on about at least a week if he wants to.

Renjun orders a gin, downing it in one go before tapping for another, alcohol is different for supernatural creatures, one glass wouldn’t give him the liquid courage he needs tonight. He was midway through his second drink when Hyuck gave him a nudge.

“Look at our seven o’clock,” Hyuck says, his chin jerking at said direction.

Renjun peeks from the brim of the glass, spotting a girl in a forest green dress with little ruffles at the hem. You looked like a fairy, or the way humans depicted them anyways, you weren’t four inches tall and shoving a help the environment form in everyone’s faces, so you’re definitely human, and if he’s not mistaken, you’re making your way here.

Renjun had spotted you with your friends that had disappeared with Jeno and Jaemin separately, and if Renjun guesses right, you’re going to make a move on Hyuck.

“Fuck, I said I wasn’t going to feed tonight, but for a snack like that? I won’t deny a treat for tonight,” Hyuck said, his tongue poking his cheek as he scans you from top to toe with hungry eyes.

“Can I buy you a drink?” you asked, but instead of directing it at Hyuck like the two of them had expected, you had directed the question at Renjun, your eyes solely interested in him.

“I’m the gentleman, I’ll do the honours,” Renjun said, flagging down the bartender.

“Martini, vodka,” you told the bartender before focusing on Renjun once more.

“You’re new here?”Renjun asked before taking a sip of his drink, no longer needing rush, he wants his head clear if he was to take you home.

“Just moved here from Incheon,” you said.

The both of you asked the basic ice breaking questions, inserting some flirting in between while Hyuck saunters off with a chick that was hitting on him hard, not wanting to be a thirdwheel to his best friend, he takes up the offer.

You dragged Renjun to the dance floor, hands looped around his neck as you brushed your body against him as you moved your body with him, Renjun, surprisingly was a very good dancer, keeping up with your hips, his delicate fingers moving dangerously higher, lightly tracing your lingerie through your thin dress as his other hand was going lower, at the dip pf your waist, right above your curves, driving you crazy.

“Why don’t we get out of here?” you said, your cherry coloured lips stretched into a mischievous smile as your eyes light up with a slight glint.

Renjun was more than willing, his hand grasping yours as he guides you out, getting the first full taste of your energy, very sweet with a hint of sour like lemon pie from Renjun’s favourite bakery, he couldn’t wait to eat you up.

Renjun had his lips locked with yours as he guides you into his expensive apartment blindly, cornering you at the back of his sofa as he bites onto your bottom lip, sucking onto it as he tastes a hint of watermelon, cherry coloured but tastes like watermelon, what in the world is wrong with modern day make up?

The strap of your dress slid down your left shoulder as you busied yourself by grinding onto Renjun, your dress pushed up as Renjun thrusted through layers of clothing, usually he wouldn’t do this, it seemed too premature to him, but you seem to enjoy his lips just as he enjoys yours, your tongue dipping into his mouth, fighting dominance, but quickly passed the reins over to Renjun, you loved fighting a losing battle for dominance, especially for pretty boys like the one worshipping you right now.

When you finally ran out of air, you tapped at his shoulder lightly, the clouds in your eyes clearing up when Renjun stopped humping, muttering the word ‘bedroom’ to him before you felt his surprisingly strong arms around you, carrying you into his room, placing you down onto his bed, the soft sheets felt expensive under your skin.

You lick your lips as you clenched your thighs together aroused by the sight of Renjun unbuttoning his shirt, slowly revealing his smooth milky white skin and his semi toned stomach, just the right amount of masculinity and feminine embodied into his beautiful form.

Renjun smirks at your reaction, slowly prying open your legs to reveal your drenched panties, the innocent shade of baby pink now stained with your sinful arousal, prying off, the slick lathering bits of it on your skin, making your thighs glisten.

Renjun eyes your slicked core, the scent of your sweetness wafting through the air thanks to his heightened senses. Renjun takes off his pants with a quick tug, tired of hiding his true form with magic, revealing nine big and long fluffy tails, the fur was soft and white as it surrounds him like a vertical half halo.

“W-what are you?” you asked as your eyes were opened wide, still transfixed on the nine tails that seem to have a mind of its own, moving about very individualistically behind Renjun.

“I’m a gumiho,” Renjun stated simply, “and I don’t eat humans, there’s nothing to be scared about,” Renjun said, his voice a gentle tone as his eyes carry nothing but sincerity, his tails coming up to you gently, one of them coming up to caress your ankle.

You weren’t one to believe in legends and folklore, but with those nine large fluffy tails behind him, there’s no way you can further deny the fact that supernatural creatures do exist, you might have made up an excuse to leave if it was someone else, but seeing Renjun bare must’ve had an effect on you, he was the most ethereal being you’ve ever laid eyes on, and you were quite a bit of a risk taker, so you nodded your head, staying put on his plush bed.

Renjun starts off slowly, kissing you once more, his hand on your cheek, tilting your head up to meet his soft lips once more, leaning down to capture your lips accurately, his tongue swiping at your bottom lip to seek permission for entrance.

You allow him, leaning back when you felt him guiding you down, his body hovering above yours, his length poking at your bare thigh through his boxers, Renjun breaks away to look ask for your consent to take off your dress, his hand below your neck where the zip lays, you got the sign, telling him to take it off before unclasping your bra for him, tired of the wire digging into your skin.

Renjun stopped his actions, eyes transfixed on your breasts that look so invitingly, your nipples perked up from the sudden drop of temperature.

“Can I?” Renjun asks, his hands hovering above your breasts, waiting. You smiled at how gentlemanly he was, hands clasping above his to lay them on your breasts, feeling a tingle of shock down your back when you felt him tweaking your nipples with the pads of his fingers, the rest of it enveloped perfectly in his palm, feeling your skin warming up under his touch, arching your chest up to allow him to feel you more. Renjun took this as a positive sign, removing his left hand to allow his lips to suck on your left blossom, sucking like a newborn seeking for milk, his tongue swirling around your nub before biting down gently. His other hand moves down your body, fingers tracing your skin as he travels southwards, stopping right above your core, extremely close to your clit.

“I want to see all of you,” you said in between breaths, curious to see him bare.

Renjun abided by your request, stepping away from you to quickly tug off his boxers, his cock slapping against his stomach, he was average in length, but girthy in size, you bite down on your lip as you watch him tug at the tip of his length, a bead of milky white arousal sliding down his length.

“I know I said I won’t eat you up, but I’d really like to eat you out,” Renjun said, his eyes zeroing on your core, your pink folds staring back at him invitingly.

“Come have a taste,” you said seductively, spreading your legs further apart to allow him easy access.

Renjun immediately delves in, his fingers parting your folds in search for your bundle of nerves, his finger searching for it desperately, when he found it, you mewled at his experimental flick, confirming Renjun’s search. Renjun instantly attaches his lips to your clit, sucking and licking your clit as he slips in a finger, you were so wet that he didn’t have any problems sliding in another, opening you up for his length, making his scissoring motions, he thrusts his fingers deeper, in search of your sweet spot.

You fisted the sheets at the start of his ministrations on your clit, breaths coming out ragged, but when he thrusted his fingers at that one angle that you’re all too familiar with from countless hours of touching yourself, his name comes out of your throat in a whimper, making Renjun’s pride swell, he takes pride in the way he pleasures others, always finding it important to care for his partners pleasure just as much as his own.

Renjun thrusts a few more times before pulling away, a whine falling from your lips, doe eyes blinking at him innocently, hoping he’d continue. Renjun chuckles at your reaction, leaving a feather light kiss on your forehead before his expression turns serious once more, holding his length in his hand, positioning himself at your entrance before slipping in carefully, pushing in inch by inch, your hand was digging into his arm that was conveniently holding onto your hip, throwing your head back, exposing your beautiful neck to Renjun, the feeling of being filled spreading throughout your whole body, the pleasure sending shocks throughout your body like ecstasy.

Renjun, being the gentle person he was, waited for you to adjust to his size, bidding his time by sucking on your neck, expertly nibbling the expanse of your whole neck until he hears a reaction from you, sucking on that one spot until a flower blooms, Renjun stares at it satisfyingly.

“You can move now,” you said, Renjun searches your eyes for confirmation when he heard you once more, “please, don’t hold back,” you said, clenching around his length experimentally, Renjun’s eyes immediately turned a shade of golden yellow, his hands grasped onto your hips as leverage before he slips out almost completely before slamming his whole length back into you, a mixture of a moan and a whimper falling from your swollen lips, Renjun lolls his head back at how tight you felt, taking in the feeling of your warm walls sucking him in before he decides to continue, setting a fast pace, pistoning his length inside you, his tails, now not under the control of their owner, starts wrapping themselves around you, some of his tails were responsible for holding your legs up, positioning you at a higher angle, an action you sure was Renjun’s decision, letting him thrust into you higher and to no one’s surprise, accurately at your sweet spot, the action sending your head in a spiral as you felt the coil in your stomach threatening to snap a few thrusts in, Renjun could feel you getting closer by how tight you were clenching onto him as if your nails digging into his flesh wasn’t a dead giveaway.

Renjun maneuvers his hand to your clit, rubbing at your bundle of nerves in harsh circles, stripping a scream of his name from your lungs as you felt the coil in your abdomen snap, your body convulsing in pleasure as you felt yourself cumming around Renjun’s throbbing length, your hold on him going slack just as your whole body does, solely being held up, or more accurately, being tied up by his fluffy white tails as you let Renjun help you ride out your high.

Renjun pulls out, his tails flipping you over so your back was facing him, his tails returning to your legs to hold your ass up for him, you wouldn’t admit this aloud, but being manhandled by his tails turns you on so much, you realised that Renjun hasn’t came, which is why he’s now slipping inside you again, thrusting into you at an inhuman pace as he chases his high.

“Can I choke you?” Renjun asks, his hips pausing momentarily to let you clear your clouded head.

You nodded immediately, tilting your head up for him to hold, what you didn’t expect was one of his fluffy tails wrapping around your neck, blocking half of your airways, turning you into nothing but mush, letting Renjun have his way with you.

Renjun felt you clenching around him involuntarily when he wrapped his tail around your neck, inwardly cooing at the fact that he had found himself a devil in the sheets, your angelic face was just a facade.

Renjun desperately picks up the pace, going as fast as he could, making your jaw slack at how good you feel, you could feel the sting of the overstimulation, but you were a slut for pain, no one has ever made you felt this good.

Renjun could feel himself nearing his high, he moves the tail that was wrapped around your neck, tilting your head gently to look at your tear streaked face, ego swelling at the fact that he had ruined you to this state, he looks into your tear stained eyes as he came, his orgasm had pushed you into another one, crying aloud as your body seizes up, your juices gushing as you felt yourself squirt around him, dripping onto his sheets as you felt Renjun rides out his high, biting onto your shoulder to muffle his moans as he finishes up.

When Renjun pulled out, his eyes are fixated by the way his cum flows out of you before he gets up to wet a towel in the bathroom to clean you up, watching you sleep soundly in his bed as he dreads what he needs to do next.

You woke up not knowing where you were until you see the hotel name on the nightstand’s welcome booklet, squinting your blurry eyes to see the words C.L Eternal Hotel, the most expensive hotel in Seoul, your hook up must’ve been rich if he took you here just to fuck and leave you.

Speaking of your hook up, you must’ve been wasted last night to not remember much of the sex and his face, every time you struggled to recall his face, you could just see a blanked out face with a beautiful body that your mind must’ve conjured up on its own to make you feel better about forgetting everything.

When you were about to get up and wash up in the large bathroom, the hotel phone rings.

“Ma’am, we have been informed to alert you that someone had paid for your buffet breakfast this morning, please head up to the highest floor for breakfast, it is available until this morning, 11 a.m.,” the staff informed.

“Oh, okay, thank you,” you said before placing the phone down. That’s when you noticed something on your wrist, a bracelet woven from what seemed like white fur, but it was most probably really smooth cotton, not the weirdest gift you’ve ever received from a hook up, the buffet breakfast was even more shocking, shrugging it off as you had gotten lucky and managed to pick up a rich guy, you quickly wash up, wanting to eat as much free food as you can.

“So that’s the girl you left part of your tail with?” Jaemin asks, spotting Renjun’s white fur on your wrist, surprised you haven’t taken it off.

“Yeah,” Renjun says as he watches you nibble on a piece of bacon as you waited for the chef to make your omelette, your eyes wide in awe, dressed in the beautiful dress that caught Renjun’s eye last night.

“What’s so special about her? Other than the fact that she chose you over me,” Hyuck teased, which made Jeno laugh aloud before quickly being shushed by Chenle.

“Quiet, Renjun wiped her clean of him, not of you two, she might remember you from the club,” Chenle warned.

“She likes what I like in bed, it’s been centuries since I found someone as compatible in bed, I put the band on her just to see if I could sleep with her again, nothing else,” Renjun said, brushing his little crush off.

“Provided that she still continues to wear it,” Jaemin reminds him.

“Yeah, if she does.”

[picwew]

SQUAD UP! It’s time for Yuna and his crew of miscreant demons!

(Picrews are here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here!)

The characters are, top to bottom, left to right--

Nakajima, Yuna: A human with unusually high magical potential. His specialty is the binding of demons into servitude, which he utilizes to stop particularly troublesome demons from threatening human populations across the globe. Most of the demons under his care were seduced by him, as he has quite a knack for making men want him. As such, several of his servants are vying for his favor, but, in his own words, “I don’t play favorites~”

Obviously, Yuna is a bit of a flirt. His tastes extend well beyond demons, into just about any non-human he can get his hands on. He has a ravenous appetite for handsome men, but no plans to settle down any time soon. It isn’t that romance doesn’t appeal to him, more that he’s still young and a little too free-spirited for anything permanent. The way he dotes on his servants, though, you’d certainly think he was in love with them, Nihil in particular.

Mourning Dove: Affectionately referred to by his coworkers as “Dovey”, this little fellow was the first of Yuna’s servants, and is therefore his most staunch defender. The details of his past are hazy, even in his own mind, but he was born into the slave trade, nameless, nothing, the psychological toll of which would not become apparent until his eventual escape. He was full of hatred for the humans who had callously treated him as property, and claimed many lives before Yuna was able to soothe his aching heart. “You’re pretty as a mourning dove,” Yuna told him. From that moment on, he decided that this would be his name.

Dovey is, above all, an empath. Much of his time recovering from a life of slavery was spent learning to feel again. Once he got the hang of it, however, he found that he felt a little too much, so much so that he’s become somewhat of a crybaby. When others are in pain, he is often the one to comfort them. His sweet disposition and cute appearance have earned him his coworkers’ love, although they still get a bit miffed with him whenever he tries to hog Yuna’s attention.

Dr. Callaway: An interesting case, and a tough nut to crack. Only Yuna knows his full name; no one knows his story. All he’s shared is that he was fingered for human experimentation, and that, no, he has neither learned his lesson nor wishes to. Still, he behaves himself well enough, perhaps because he is entirely obsessed with Yuna in the most unhealthy way. While most of his coworkers consider one another family, Dr. Callaway is detached and often mocking of their sentimentality.

As expected, Dr. Callaway is a terrible sadist. He takes great pleasure in hurting others in any way he can. Nowadays, this is limited almost entirely to insults and threats, but he has been known to get physical with others when Yuna isn’t looking. It doesn’t help that nothing seems to bother him in return. You could beat the man senseless, and he’d come out of it grinning like a jackal.

Corvo: This one was a misunderstanding--or, rather, a case of cultures clashing in a very gruesome manner. Corvo is a hybrid of demon and crowkin. Beastkin are not true demons, but are often lumped in with them, so mixed-race families are not uncommon. Unfortunately, this can lead to some problematic offspring, particularly when one or both of the parents are detached from human society. Corvo, like many crowkin, was taught that food is food, and that human meat is the most delicious of all. He bore no ill will toward humans, but his view of them as, essentially, cattle culminated in a visit from Yuna.

Following his binding, Corvo began the lengthy process of finding something he liked more than human flesh. This, as it turned out, was sweets--all sweets, from pastries, to ice cream, to candy. He had never had sweets before, and everyone agreed that they suited his bubbly, affectionate personality more than human flesh anyway. He is certainly the gentlest of all of Yuna’s servants, dedicated to his family and to protecting those in need. He’s especially fond of cats.

Erebus: Known by those who worship him as the Master of Crows, Erebus is an ill-understood being. He is ancient, but has had little to do with his own kind since time out of mind. Instead, he appears to have become so entwined with his worshipers that he can no longer live without their faith to sustain him. During the Northern Crusades, a great many of them were persecuted for their faith, and Erebus fell into a centuries-long slumber. Only when his followers began to grow in number again did he wake--and command those loyal to him to seek vengeance for their fallen brethren. Naturally, Yuna had a thing or two to say about that.

Erebus is highly asocial, but does not dislike his coworkers. It would be a stretch to say he views them as family; even so, he gets along well with them on the rare occasion Yuna can talk him out of his comfortable pocket of darkness. As the oldest of his colleagues, he is respected and even admired, but he cares little for the love of his own kind. He desires mortal love, which he receives through his worshipers. Due to their number still being relatively low, you’ll rarely catch him awake. Only Yuna seems able to rouse him, and only because Yuna is his “most cherished one”.

Mage: A troublemaker with a bark worse than his bite--but he can and will bite, so mind your fingers. Like Dr. Callaway, his true name is known only to Yuna. His coworkers know him as Mage, taken from Magenta, the name of the rather nasty chemical he produces to draw in his prey. He doesn’t harm them, but he has seduced many a married man away from his wife. Causing strife among couples is what he does best. As an incubus, he finds the taste of a married man’s energy too sweet to resist. So, of course, when he found himself seduced by Yuna, he was completely baffled--and absolutely obsessed. He still toys with married men now and then, when he gets the chance, but spends most of his time trying to talk Yuna back into bed.

Though rare, Mage can be persuaded to bust heads, and does so with the best of ‘em. He’s highly territorial, meaning that although he rather likes his colleagues, he often tangles up with them over Yuna’s affection. He is particularly hostile toward Nihil, who rather delights in teasing Mage with his closeness to their master. Outside of his romantic conflicts with his housemates, he tends to be rather lackadaisical, spending much of his free time lounging on every comfortable surface available. People find his presence enjoyable due to his easygoing disposition and passion for mischief.

Nihil: Of all the demons under Yuna’s employ, Nihil is the one who has come closest to winning his heart. Theirs is a strangely intimate relationship, one which Yuna insists is platonic--and yet, Nihil is at his side always, his obedient shadow. Of course, they weren’t always so close. Nihil is an inherently violent, cruel man whose sole purpose in life is to cause as much pain and grief as he possibly can. He is absolutely, positively insane, for no other reason than this is how he believes a demon should be. This is his aesthetic, and a demon’s aesthetic is absolute. He minds his P’s and Q’s now that he’s bound to Yuna, but never lets his “family” forget what he is, Yuna least of all.

Nihil loves no being, except, by his own admission, Yuna. He teases his master constantly, always pushing his limits, always pushing his buttons. “I am your loyal dog,” is a favorite line of his, spoken, with a pointed smile, whenever Yuna asks something of him. For some reason, it never fails to fluster Yuna, which allows Nihil to worm himself further into his darling’s heart. Unlike his colleagues, he is not afraid to get physical with Yuna, and many of their more heated arguments have ended in the bedroom. Whether Nihil actually enjoys servitude remains to be seen, but for Yuna, he would pull the moon from the sky.

Pox: The general consensus on Pox is “unfriendly, but not unbearable”. A life of self-isolation has made him difficult to approach, even more difficult to befriend, especially given that everyone he’s ever loved, he has killed. He is a demon of sickness, of plague and of rot, of suffering so old as to be carved into the bones of the earth. When he was young, he could not control the disease that spread from him. Though his mortal mother tried desperately to guide him, eventually, she was overcome, and Pox left the village he had once called home, now populated only by the dead and dying. He learned then that he could not live among his mother’s people, but he knew nothing of his father’s. Rather than seek them out and put them at risk as well, he exiled himself to the outskirts of human society, interacting with it only when necessary. With time, he came to understand his power, and was able to control it--but his peaceful life came to an end when one of the few humans he had allowed himself to love was killed in a botched robbery. Pox designated himself judge, jury, and executioner, and it wasn’t long before Yuna showed up on his doorstep.

Pox hides his self-loathing under a cold, hard outer shell. His mask is flawless, perfected through a lifetime of guilt, and he allows no one near enough to break it. His coworkers believe that they are despised by him, but in truth, he loves each of them with every inch of himself. Saying so is difficult, though, and such an admission would only encourage them to endanger themselves. He may be in complete control of his magic most days, but there are times even now when he catches himself slipping. He is desperate to protect Yuna and the strange family they have all built together, so much so that he would rather suffer in silence than risk their lives asking for help.

Seta Sericum: The peculiarity of his name has led to his coworkers calling him Silky, a moniker which he has accepted only begrudgingly. Silky is a Nephalem, the product of a love between angel and demon. Typically, his fathers’ love for one another would have ended in tragedy, but the two stayed together even after their angelic half was cast from divinity. Silky was raised in a happy home, albeit a mobile one; his fathers couldn’t risk staying in one place for too long, lest the Church track them down. Ultimately, it was the Church, their greatest fear, that was their end. They were cut down while protecting Silky, who was forced to flee in the vain hope that his absence might somehow save his fathers. The Church searched for him, but he had hidden himself well. Now an orphan, he swore vengeance on his parents’ murderers--and he got it too, once he was old enough to control his immense magical power. He despises the Church, but killed only those among its ranks who had directly harmed him. Regardless, Yuna came for him, and he submitted to servitude as recompense.

Silky’s demonic father was a real fop of a man, and his son is no different now that he’s had a chance to adjust to a normal life. He insists that everyone pull their own weight, that everything be in its place at all times, and has a fondness for indulgences such as expensive wine and imported chocolates. Without these little luxuries, he would surely have gone mad, for both his mischievous master and his trouble-making housemates frustrate him to no end. He has tried, with mixed success, to serve as a role model for them, but, oh, they are all such children. Dovey is far too naive, Dr. Callaway is far too sadistic, Corvo is far too oblivious, Mage is far too flirtatious, Nihil is far too violent, Pox is far too cold, and Vincent is far too reclusive. Erebus, at least, is well-behaved, though Silky thinks he could stand to mingle more with the group.

Vincent Blythe: On the forefront of medical progress during the Victorian Era, Dr. Vincent Blythe has become little more than a shell of his former self. When his prostitute mother was murdered by one of her stags, something snapped in him. He began targeting, torturing, and finally killing any man who frequented brothels or whom he had seen with street-walkers, believing himself to be the protector of his mother’s people. It was only then when he realized he was something more than human. His father, it turned out, had been a demon who had fallen terribly in love with his mother, but whose feelings had been spurned by her. After receiving a near-fatal wound in a skirmish with a prominent vampire hunter of the day, Vincent tucked himself away in a dark corner of London to heal. He slept for over a century, and when he woke, attempted to pick up where he’d left off. Confused, his trauma still fresh in his mind, he killed all who drew near. Phone calls were made, flights were booked, and Yuna arrived on scene to bring him back to his senses.

Vincent is terribly withdrawn. On the one hand, he is distrustful of all humans, and men in particular frighten him. On the other hand, he has had little to no experience with his own kind, and so struggles to fit in among them. He finds himself at an impasse, unable to shake the trauma of his mother’s murder, and equally unable to bond with his father’s kin. Because of this, he is prone to bouts of violent madness when he feels that he is being threatened, or when he wakes from particularly vivid nightmares, in which he witnesses his mother’s murder and can do nothing to stop it. Dr. Callaway has oft remarked that Vincent is a genius, a true medical prodigy, and that it is too bad he’s so “broken”.

[forbiddensoul562]

Contagion

I could have sworn I’d published this, but I found it in my draft folder this morning... So... I apologize that it hasn’t gone through a rigorous editing process, but I hope you enjoy anyway!

Two years ago I sat on a train in Taiwan, headed from Taipei to a small, remote place called (I think) Wufeng. As I sat there, I thought about a post-apocalyptic zombie Meronia fic I’d read somewhere on here. It was very good, but I had no luck tracking it down again, and I thought that was a damn shame.

So, I pulled out my notebook and wrote a test first chapter of my own version during the whole two hour train ride. 

It’s not much, and might not have much substance to it. But I’d love to get anyone’s thoughts on it’s start.

Working Title: Contagion

The moment they appeared their existence made national news… The world screeched to a halt, all attention on these things. Humans… turned diseased, feral, or perhaps something else entirely. No one knew for sure where they came from. It was as though one moment the world continued spinning like normal, and in the next… these things began flooding the streets. The initial confusion of news analysts and reporters slowly began to turn to fear. It took only an hour before the first bite was reported... The victim turned, becoming one of the diseased. 

That was the moment public fear began to turn to panic, catching like wildfire.

As Near watched, from secluded inside his high tower, he was acutely aware that he was witnessing the turning point of human history.

By the second hour after the first report had hit the news, Near had decided that what he was witnessing was potentially the unravelling of human society. He was a detective… trained to solve the world’s mysteries. But this… There was no training for this, and even if he wanted to act, the pandemic was spreading far too fast.

By hour three Near found himself trying to name these things based on their condition – should he refer to them as the Sick, infected initially by some kind of widespread contagion? The news began to report them as simply ‘undead,’ and while Near understood that such a title effectively, and most simply communicated to the general populace what these things were doing, based on common knowledge from mass media, Near could only roll his eyes at how unoriginal and unfitting the term appeared to be.

At the tenth hour, local news agencies began going off the air as it was too dangerous to stay and try to report. It made sense, they had themselves and their own families to think about. It was in that moment that fear suddenly began to take the place of Near’s previously more pragmatic thoughts. A new, chilling terror of encroaching total isolation the outside world seeped into his bones.

It was then that he decided it best to make the one call of utmost importance in the dying world, before cell towers began to completely fall off the grid.

Rester handed Near the phone and the detective listened to the ringing tone as he pressed it to his ear, an unspoken panic brewing in his center and he couldn’t decide if it was premised in his worry for lines of communication, or something much more morbid. ‘Pick up,’ He mentally pleaded, desperately. ‘Come on, answer your phone…’ Of all the times to be ignored…

But then, as if by command, finally the other end of the phone ceased the repetitive tone, replaced instead with a simple, abrupt, “What?”

“Mello.” A heavy breath was released that Near hadn’t realized he was holding, momentary relief taking its place. “You’ve seen the news?”

[More beneath a ‘keep reading’, just in case Tumblr isn’t showing it...]

There was a brief pause from the other end, and Near felt his heartrate quicken in response. Time was just too precious for delays of any kind. Every second that crucial information wasn’t being conveyed was another second that Near felt his panic increase, worried that the call might drop and he might never get to say what he needed to.

“It’s starting to be chaos here, too.” Mello’s tone was somber, quieter as though speaking any louder would make the events all the more real.

“I see.” Near reached for a strand of hair, though the repetitive twirling sensation was proving to do little to calm his nerves, as it once had. This was just becoming too big of a catastrophe for his simple rituals to pacify his worry. “The world is ending, Mello.”

“Strangely dramatic of you.” The older successor muttered, but was quick to add, “You think I don’t know that?” There was an irritated edge to his tone, yet still Near couldn’t help cracking a small smile at Mello’s underhanded, and perhaps unconscious, implication that they both truly were not above dramatics. Though, perhaps he was reading too far into it, searching for a sliver of normality in a world that was quickly falling crumbling.

“No, of course you would already be aware.” After all, Mello was much more heavily involved in the world, or at least connected to it on a far more personal level than Near was. “No doubt the grid will be going down at some point. Maybe in a few minutes, maybe in a few hours, or days… So to that effect I wanted to contact you first over anyone else.” Near’s motions in his hair stopped, the white strand unravelling around his index finger. His vision and even his attention to the rest of the room seemed to blur as he focused entirely upon his connection to the only other person of importance Near had, in a world that was falling apart. “If things continue as they are, to the best of my ability I plan on attempting to create a safe zone within my tower. Right now it has the resources to survive here for at least a year, but I aim to build on those.”

When Mello said nothing in response, Near continued, rambling still, but this time more to the point, “What is happening right now is far greater than you or I, Mello, and on our own I do not think we will make it long. You lack the resources and I lack the physicality. But together, we-”

“Near, don’t, I’m not-”

“Mello, please.” He could hear the pleading in his words, “Just listen to me a moment.”

This time, the blonde remained quiet on the other end.

“If you can make it from your present location in California to here in New York… I would greatly benefit from whatever you have to offer to survival efforts. Neither of us will make it if we’re split up. This is not like anything else we have ever dealt with, and because of that I don’t think it makes sense to hold onto lingering animosity. Think of your survival.”

Near shook his head. Logic wouldn’t work with Mello… So he added quieter, “I need your help, Mello.”

There was a long silence between them, then, the words and residual antipathy culminating between them into that one moment of silence which seemed to hold all the necessary potential to be both of their ruin, not to mention all the others Near had every intention of trying to help. Everything hinged on this single moment… of being able to put aside disputes, and endless history for a greater good. It had never worked before. Yet this time, Near held his breath.

Finally, “I’ll do what I can.” The words were vague, but of course both successors understood the weight and challenge associated with attempting to travel from one side of the country to the direct opposite in the current collapsing state of things. But if Mello was as willing and able as his words alluded to, then Near was willing to hold his breath a little while longer.

Near nodded, “I look forward to your arrival, then.”

The detective was ready to end the call while he had Mello’s agreement and thus his own sense of hope, but of course Mello broke in before he could, “Yeah, you say that, but you’re not the one having to go out and deal with this shit. It’s a risk, Near. At this rate, who knows what the country will do in response...”

Near could read between the lines: Mello thought he might not make it.

But Near had to stay positive, even if he was feigning it for both of them, now. The thought of being alone to go going through what was shaping up to be the apocalypse was troublesome at best, and truly terrifying at worst. “Getting into and climbing the ranks of the Mafia was a risk, too.”

There was a short, curt chuckle from the other end of the line. “Yeah, well… we’ll see. I’ll try.” The younger successor didn’t like the tone latent in his voice. He didn’t like hearing Mello be anything other than his loud, over-the-top self that exuded confidence. But then, nothing was good about this situation or provided any reason for the blonde to hold onto his normal demeanor… Still, it was jarring and was almost worse than seeing the reports on the news.

But Near forced himself to nod, “Right, I’ll see you soon, then.”

Yet another pause on the other end, followed by a simple, “Yeah.”

In that moment Near found himself reluctant to cut their connection. There were so many things he wanted to say to the blonde successor… just in case this was their last time ever speaking. Years of harbored words flooded his mouth like bile, yet burning his throat with the knowledge that no matter how much he wanted to let it all spill out, Mello wouldn’t stand such talk. Not now. Maybe not ever. Though, perhaps it was better this way. He didn’t want to say anything that might prove a distraction to Mello’s journey across the country to get to him.

So he instead swallowed it all back down, promising himself that he would make time to pour out all of these words to Mello when the older successor made it to him.

He could only bring himself to whisper, “Good luck. Be safe. Please.” It was the closest thing to a prayer Near thought he could ever formulate. 

“You too, Near.” Mello said much quieter. “Don’t... let anything happen before I can make it there, alright?”

“I won’t.” He shook his head. “I’ll be here waiting.” With that, he pulled the phone away and hung up.

[itsnothingofinterest]

So you know what’s been on my mind lately? How much of a humanitarian nightmare Tartarus is, and the dark implications about how it’s used.

What we know for sure about Tartarus is pretty stark, but we can draw some easy assumptions from that little information. All we know for sure is thus: 

It was made for the worst of the worst criminals for whom the death penalty is considered too lenient. While inside, prisoners are strapped to slabs of metal or chairs so they can talk to interrogators but otherwise not move, and guns are trained on them at all times to fill them with lead if they even think about using their quirks. In at least AFO’s case, he was taken there without trial; but he does seem to be having a trial later on...which they don’t feel he needs to be there for it. Also, prisoners aren’t told any outside information.

The implications we can draw are as such: If it’s purposefully worse than the death sentence, it is likely a life sentence with no parole. Additionally, I imagine it purposefully has no interest in treating its prisoners humanely except in ways necessary to keep them alive. Regarding those trials, because they aren’t told anything on the outside, we can possibly assume that they are not removed to talk to defendants or taken to court. So AFO’s legal situation may be the norm. We don’t have evidence to suggest he’s being treated special anyway, considering the purpose of Tartarus.

But hey, that’s fine right? This is the prison for the worst of the worst, why care if it’s not exactly humane, or if these guys don’t take part in their own trials? Well you should probably care on principle anyway, but also that only holds true if we assume the people in charge who send them to Tartarus are all on the ball with no hidden agendas or biases. And if you’ve kept your ear on the current real life situation with the police & government, you may realize how unrealistic that is.

You see, there’s something I’ve noticed about Tartarus; everyone involved in the League who’s been captured has been sent there. The only one who we don’t know has been sent there is Mustard, and we don’t know he hasn’t been sent there either. (Also, I heard that in side material it’s stated that child villains can be tried as adults, but I haven't varied that. It sounds plausible if I’m honest, but take it with a grain of salt.) Now, that kind of makes sense on an individual basis when you remember the people caught are Muscular, Moonfish, & technically Stain; 3 mass murderers & hero killers, and All For One; the criminal king pin of the last 200 years. Except then there’s Kurogiri.

Kurogiri, while a main member of the League of Villains, doesn’t have much of a criminal record. He’s threatened the hero students & injured Thirteen, but otherwise he’s just been a taxi service, bartender, and baby sitter for the League. If threatening and injuring heroes is enough to land you in the biggest prison in the country, either japan’s criminals must be really pathetic or Tartarus is full to bursting. (And yes, he’s also a Nomu, but they didn't know that at the time and I can’t imagine how that would relate to the prison your sent to anyway.)

Or, more likely I feel, there’s a standing order to send every captured League member to Tartarus. Now why would they do that you ask? Well I have some theories that all hold about the same amount of water. Perhaps it’s because All For one is that notorious that anyone with any connection to anyone he knows has to be sent there for the people in charge to feel really safe that he’s finally gone.

Or perhaps it’s because the League itself is considered a threat. Shigaraki is someone who, in his first day of villainy; picked a fight with All Might, almost won, and then got away. I imagine all of those factors are quire rare, so he was already a blemish on hero society from day 1. He’s also basically the only force in the country actively calling out the corrupt Hero Society. Stain was calling out corruption in the heroes, but he through the system itself was fine, while Shigaraki is against the system itself and is actively gathering like-minded people to bring it down. I don’t know how aware of Shigaraki’s views the HC are, but if they are then they have even more reason to show no mercy to anyone in his group.

Or it could just be because the group as a whole are considered by the public as super-dangerous domestic-terrorists. I mean even if it is one of the above reason, that’s probably the cover story.

Still, and maybe it’s just because the League are all my faves, I can’t help but find it disturbing that they’d be shipped of to that worst of the worst prison for the worst of the worst criminals for life upon capture, potentially before any kind of trial and without ever taking part in any kind of trial. Even Spinner might be sent there and I don’t think he’s even killed anyone who’s not one of those CRC Klan-looking freaks. And there’s a not insignificant chance Mustard was sent there. That’s weird, right? That’s more than a bit messed up, right?

And I mean, if they’ve done this with the League, who’s to say they haven't done this with other groups or individuals the HC finds particularly troublesome?

[geekgirles]

Your Heart

Chapter 2 -- The Invitation

Word Count: 8,903 

READ ON AO3

Hours could have passed since Sam received the letter and she wouldn’t have noticed, the events were so unreal her mind still hadn’t been able to fully register them. What was supposed to be a day like any other suddenly passed by in a blur. And no matter what she did, she just couldn’t make sense of it all. 

The moment Star gave her the letter, the queen recognised the logo engraved on the seal closing the envelope. That forsaken logo had made daily appearances on the news for the last three years, when he started using and associating it to his person. 

Danny Phantom.

The current Ghost King. 

Nothing could’ve prepared her for the feeling of astonishment that came with that simple realisation. Such was her stupor that, once her back collided against her black mahogany vanity, her legs lost all strength to support her weight, slowly sliding down until Sam was seated on the floor of her chambers. Eyes wide and mouth hanging open. 

Terror gripping at them at the sight of their, otherwise collected, queen, the handmaidens immediately scurried over her, checking for any sign that would imply their leader needed any sort of assistance. 

A million thoughts materialised inside Sam’s head. How did the Ghost King know there were witches in Amity Park? Did all ghosts know they weren’t the only otherworldly creatures blending in with humans? How did the Ghost King know where to find them? Were her people in danger?

But most importantly, why did the infamous Danny Phantom write her for?

Grimacing, Sam figured there was only one way to find out. With a shaking hand, she gestured for Star to bring her the envelope. Concern still apparent on the blonde’s features, for her queen must have truly been too stunned to perform magic herself, she nonetheless did as she was instructed. “Fluito,” she whispered, and immediately afterwards an orange, fire-like aura surrounded the envelope, until the object came to them. 

Sam gripped the envelope like a life line and, with trembling hands, broke the wax seal to get to the letter inside. What she found only made matters worse: 

“Dear Madam, 

I hope this message finds you well. I would not be able to reprimand you if my sudden writing to you took you by surprise; I found myself disbelieving of my own actions, after all. 

I wish to inform you on an important occurrence I believe deserves your attention. However, I will not be able to describe said occurrence through this letter, unfortunately. I fear it might be intercepted by those who would give anything to see me fall, or perhaps by your own enemies if you were to have them. 

It is because of such circumstances that I formally invite you and whoever you decide as members of your entourage to my lair in the Ghost Zone, in hopes that we will be able to discuss these matters without fear of our respective domains being put in jeopardy. 

In order to save ourselves some time, if you were to accept my proposal, you and your entourage shall go to the outskirts of Amity Park in a week’s time, where one of my subjects will be waiting for you. 

I eagerly await your answer, 

King Phantom.”

Once she was done reading the letter, Sam could only gape at it. That had been an eternity ago, and now she was pacing up and down her room, massaging her temples as she tried making sense of it all. 

When the initial shock from the Ghost King’s message had finally worn off, Sam proceeded to re-read the letter, in case she misunderstood the spectre’s motives and he was actually requesting something far more reasonable than her company. Like declaring war on them. Ghosts and witches going to war with each other made much more sense than members of both species ーthe leaders of both species, as a matter of factー willingly being near the other for the first time in 328 years. 

But she came back empty-handed. And that could only mean one thing; she had to read the letter again because, clearly, her reading comprehension wasn’t as good as she thought. And so, Sam read the letter for the third time...and the fourth time...and the fifth time...

By the time she had already read the accusing piece of paper for the eleventh time, she finally understood her company was exactly what Phantom was requesting of her. But why?

“If you keep going in circles like that, you’re gonna get dizzy,” Paulina chimed in, watching as her queen paced around the room, muttering nonsense under her breath. “Or what’s worse, you’re going to make me dizzy.”

“Pauli’s right, Sam. Drawing a hole on the floor will get you nowhere.” Star agreed, her own eyes following the raven-haired girl’s every move. In any other circumstances, say, if Pamela were around, the two girls would get in trouble for addressing the Witch Queen so casually. However, once they were assigned to her and Sam discovered the usefulness of their talents, the three young women had soon agreed to treat each other informally whenever they were away from prying eyes. 

Sam wholeheartedly believed familiarity was the key to winning someone’s trust. Because of that, she allowed for witches as loyal as her ladies-in-waiting to get close to her, while keeping anyone she suspected of being troublesome at a respectful distance. 

Nibbling on her thumb, a clear sign of her distress, Sam shook her head. “Girls, you don’t understand. This simple letter could lead to disastrous consequences! And I’m not talking about whatever it is that that forsaken Phantom wants from me, which is a whole new level of worrying; I’m talking about the possibility of our clan being compromised!” The Latina and the blonde started when Sam abruptly stopped pacing, stomping her foot against the floor to get their attention. “If the ruler of a race we haven’t had any contact with in more than three centuries knows where to find us, who’s to say the rest of Amity Park remains blissfully unaware of our very existence? This is The Great Burning all over again!” She bellowed in anguish.

This was bad. This was very bad. Unlike ghosts, who revelled in wreaking havoc amongst mortals and drawing attention from it, witches had long decided to remain off the humans’ radar. For centuries, they blended in with normal men and women, pretending to be just like them, while they carried out their spells, rites, and  ceremonies away from the public eye in the safety of their manor.

The existence of their society was their best-kept secret, and they’d be damned if such information got leaked. For starters, that pesky witch hunter they often brushed off could very well turn into a real threat. 

The fact that their secret depended on a ghost of all things made Sam’s insides churn in fright and rightful outrage. 

“Alright, you have a point,” Paulina conceded, but to her companions’ shock her worried gaze soon morphed itself into a swoon, “But you can’t deny that the Ghost King is a total hunk. I’m so jealous of you right now.” She sighed, her mind clearly elsewhere. 

Scowling darkly at the Latina, Sam turned to her other lady-in-waiting, “Star, please, do me a favour and smack her. Hard.”

The blonde did as she was told and hit her friend on the back of her neck, eliciting a complaint from her. 

Sending a glare to her fellow witch, Paulina began to gently rub the area. “You don’t have to do everything she tells you, you know?”

“Um, Pauli? She’s the Queen...You know, as in our boss? I literally have to do everything she tells me.” She reminded her, earning herself a huff from the aggravated girl. She then turned to her queen, her own eyes sparkling with excitement. “Paulina’s got a point, though. For a dead guy with ice powers, he sure is hawt. Watching him save the day is the highlight of my week!”

Sensing an aura filled with murderous intent, Star flinched slightly under Sam’s withering glare. “He’sーstillーaーghost.” Her queen said through gritted teeth. 

Watching the interaction, the Latina beauty sniffed in displeasure, “Hey, no fair! You haven’t told me to hit her for drooling over the Ghost King!”, she whined.

“Girls, focus! This is serious!” Sam snapped. 

Her fellow witches actually had the decency to look down in shame at her outburst. “Uh...right, sorry.” Paulina apologised sheepishly.

Somehow, something about the girl’s apology didn’t sit well with Sam. Their knowing smirks, staring down at her as if they knew a secret she didn’t, sent goosebumps down her spine. “What?”

Paulina raised her palms up in surrender. “Nothing. It’s just that I thought you’d be more appreciative of Phantom’s physique given your...preferences.” She finished with a coy smile. 

That comment sent the Witch Queen reeling, which wasn’t helped in the least by Paulina’s smug look and Star’s snickering by her side. Her preferences? Was she serious? “Excuse me? Just because I’m a Goth doesn’t mean I’m necrophiliac! I’m not that hardcore, andー! ...why are you laughing?”

Sam’s indignant defence of her lifestyle was met with her two informants doubled over in laughter. Sam could do nothing but stare on, dumbfounded. After a few minutes, they seemed to finally calm down. Star, resting her weight over Paulina’s hunched over form, wiped a tear out of the corner of her eye as her laughter died down. “Sam,” she panted, “what Pauli means is that Phantom looks a lot like your ex. White hair, green eyes...Ring a bell?”

The young witch spluttered at that. Now that she thought about it, Danny Phantom was remarkably similar to her ex-boyfriend, Gregor...or Elliot, or whatever he called himself now. All the more reason to distrust the so-called ‘hero of Amity Park’.

“Whatever”, she huffed, before her expression turned downcast. Plopping down on the starry covers of her bed, she raised her hands to her head as she leaned forward. DeMilo came hopping to her, nuzzling her leg with its stem. 

No matter how the Ghost King looked, he had still addressed her by personally sending her a letter. The location of her clan’s headquarters was a secret almost as well-kept as the very existence of her sisters. Whatever she chose to do could endanger hers and their fellow covens! 

On the one hand, ghosts were treacherous and conniving. If she went to the Ghost Zone as per requested of her, she could be falling into a trap, bringing chaos and anarchy upon her own coven with her, for she was still too young to have an heiress of her own. And since there were no other purple-eyed witches, her demise would bring forth internal battles for control. 

She couldn’t afford that to happen.

But, on the other hand, ghosts were also malicious and resentful. There was a reason why they remained stuck in their realm instead of moving on! If she were to refuse the invitation, they could either attack or reveal their existence to the humans in retaliation. Either way, it would have disastrous consequences for her coven...if they even survived the onslaught. 

She certainly couldn’t afford that to happen either. 

Sighing through her nose, in an effort to keep her head clear of any doubt, her gaze steeled. Turning to look at her handmaidens straight in the eye, all sense of familiarity gone, she gave but one simple order. “Arrange a Council meeting. Immediately.”

Understanding the gravity of the situation, her companions bowed down to her before hastily making their exit. 

....................

Council meetings took place in the attic of the manor. What in any other house would be a dusty, dark place clattered to the ceiling with old furniture, boxes whose descriptions didn’t match their contents, and the stuff of nightmares of any five-year-old, the attic where the Amity Park Coven gathered was closer in size to a ballroom. 

The rows of seats formed a “u” shape, being close to the walls and leaving the middle of the room, which was dedicated to witches making their cases or taking the floor, empty. On the far corner of the room, between the rest of the witches acting as witnesses to the meetings, was the podium where the Council sat down and presided over the room. 

The Council consisted of four witches. The leader was the Queen, who oversaw the process and spoke for her and her fellow members once they’d reached a decision. Her second-in-command, and therefore the one who was in charge whenever it was the Queen herself that brought up a case or proposal to deliberate about, was the witch with the most proficiency at spellcasting after the clan’s head. The coven’s “Minister of War” was the best potion-maker in the clan. And, finally, the sorceress in charge of maintaining their anonymity amongst humans was she who was the most proficient shapeshifter. 

Her interlaced hands resting on the wooden table from where she’d make her proposal in the middle of the room, Sam met her colleagues’ curious eyes with a determined gaze of her own. She could feel her mother’s disapproving glare on herーPamela never liked it when her daughter brought attention to herself, because it would mean that, if things went awry, all eyes would turn on herー, she could hear her people’s hushed voices, whispering among themselves, wondering what could possibly be so important to deserve an impromptu Council meeting summoned by the Queen herself. 

But her mind was made up. Informing the Council in hopes of approval was a mere formality she simply could not avoid. 

Clearing her throat, Margaret, the clan’s best spellcaster, stood up from her seat, silencing the room by drawing attention to herself with that simple action.

Margaret was a woman in her fifties. Her Grandma Ida used to tell her that when she was Sam’s age, she used to be quite the lookerーher mother often had to use a spell or two to send her suitors running. Even now, the woman still retained some of her youthful beauty. A woman of average height, Margaret’s sharp features hinted at an equally sharp mind. With chocolate skin, her green eyes hid an intellect and common sense that had often saved the clan from ruin, even during her Grandma’s reign. Her salt-and-pepper hair was cut short, with slightly longer strands framing her diamond-shaped face. The woman’s fashion sense was a reflection of her responsible and professional nature, wearing a business suit consisting of a forest green jacket and skirt over a white shirt. Adorning her neck was a mustard kerchief and, Sam was willing to bet, she was wearing her favourite black heels. 

“Your Majesty,” Margaret addressed her, “as you will understand, your sudden wish for a Council meeting has rendered us rather perplexed. We can only assume that whichever matters you wish to discuss must be of importance.”

It was Sam’s turn to stand up from her chair, “Of utmost importance.”

“Then, by all means, proceed.” The Council member nodded, gesturing at Sam. 

“My dear subjects, just like your day has been disrupted by this sudden meeting, mine has been disrupted by a most unusual, and might I add disturbing, occurrence. As I was getting dressed in my quarters, readying myself to fulfill my duties of the day, one of my handmaidens came rushing in, a letter in her hand.” Sam braced herself for what came next, “The author of the letter is no other than Danny Phantom, the current Ghost King.”

Everyone gasped at the revelation. Soon after the surprise had worn off, chaos ensued. Indignant cries, questions asked aloud, and general confusion reigned. And who could blame them? Witches and ghosts had cut all ties that bound them centuries before. 

“Order, order!” Wilhelmina, the coven’s greatest potion-maker and Minister of War, demanded as she repeatedly slammed the podium with her bare hands.

Once the commotion had died down, Margaret refocused her steely gaze on their Queen. “Your Majesty, please, do explain the contents of this letter.”

“Due to the Ghost King’s fear of the letter being intercepted by his enemies, the message was short yet direct. He wishes to discuss a matter of urgency with me, for which he has officially invited me and whoever I choose as members of my court to his lair in the Ghost Zone.”

Again, the room broke out in gasps and hushed questions Sam didn’t have the answer to. Then came the question Sam simultaneously dreaded and anticipated the most, “And what do you wish to do, your Majesty?” 

“I wish to accept his proposal,” was her answer. 

All Hell broke loose at her words, only this time, Wilhelmina herself was participating in it. Wilhelmina was a pudgy woman with a round face and a strong will. A woman in her late thirties to early forties, her fair complexion was spotted by countless freckles. She was relatively plain-looking, with auburn hair that she often wore in a tight bun and dark eyes, but judging from the rumours going around, her fiery personality landed her several conquests. Despite what her strong personality might imply, Wilhelmina favoured loose-fitting dresses, such as the dark blue and white polak-dotted one she was currently wearing, and sandals. 

The potion-maker was one of the most outspoken in her hatred of ghosts, which in itself was common among witches. The resentment from all those years ago had never really faded, and ever since those damned spectres mysteriously reappeared, old wounds had reopened. 

While both Grandma Ida and Sam advocated for steering clear from them unless provoked, Wilhelmina was a firm believer that they should have got rid of the spirits as soon as they first appeared, starting with Danny Phantom. A conviction that was only intensified the moment he was named King of the Ghosts. 

“All in all”, Sam mused to herself, “she’s taking it way better than I expected.” The raven haired girl patiently waited until Margaret had, once again, everything under control. Due to her stick-by-the-book nature, the African American woman did not appreciate when one of her fellow Council members encouraged unruly behaviour. 

“Your Majesty, this is preposterous!” Wilhelmina bellowed, slamming her hands down on her desk as she hastily stood up. “That husk of a person dares request your presence and you accept the invitation?! Forgive me, my Lady, but nothing good can come out of it.” A murmur of agreement could be heard throughout the room. Their Minister of War was right; what was their Queen thinking?

Then, she added, “Then again, what can we expect from a naive twenty-one-year-old girl.” Her words elicited a gasp from the crowd. On her part, although Sam was dying to tell her off, she masterfully remained impassive, only raising a questioning eyebrow at her direction. Her Grandma would’ve been so proud of her. 

Margaret cleared her throat. “Although that last comment was uncalled for,” she admitted, shooting a glare at her colleague for her callous words, “Wilhelmina is right when she says attending this meeting would be...unorthodox,” ーSam had to admit, Margaret was almost as good as her mother at carefully choosing her words to appear as socially acceptable as possible. Almostー, “there is also great danger. We all know what happened the last time our people trusted ghosts; are we really willing to let them make fools out of us again?”

“I say this is ground for war!” Wilhelmina roared. “Your Majesty, you and your grandmother, may she rest in peace, gave orders to avoid confrontation unless provoked. Well, now we are being provoked, by being set up! We cannot let this...this...third rate ‘hero’”, she air-quoted with a scoff, “insult us like that and go scott free!”

“Wilhelmina, let her Majesty explain her reasoning. I’m sure she has thought this through.” Delilah, the clan’s expert shapeshifter, tried placating her fellow witch. Sam could only smile in gratitude. 

At 28, Delilah was the youngest Council member, second only to Sam. Despite the usual naiveté and unrealistic optimism attributed to her youth, Delilah was also the one most willing to listen to the other side of the story. She preferred broadening her horizons before making a verdict, trying to understand where the witch in question was trying to get at. And this time, she was trying to understand why Sam would want to go to the lion’s den. 

The shapeshifter’s natural beauty was also unmatched. Paulina would sometimes seethe in jealousy at the attention she would get or how effortlessly she pulled any look the Latina herself had trouble with. Narrow shoulders and hips, a well-defined burst, legs for miles… Delilah was any man’s fantasy! With her smooth, caramel skin. Her strikingly blue eyes and long lashes. And her silky, ebony hair she often styled in a long braid. Her fashion sense was so on point it could put any haute couture designer to shame. For instance, to that meeting she wore an off-shoulder, long-sleeved red mini dress, a black belt with a golden buckle tightened around her waist, and knee-high black leather boots. 

Wilhelmina nodded reluctantly, crossing her arms. Smiling at that, Delilah turned to Sam. “Your Majesty, please, proceed.”

Sam breathed in deeply. Phantom’s request had piqued her interest; what could the ruler of the Ghost Zone possibly want from her and her people now that his kind roamed freely around the city? The last seven years both species had avoided each other like the plague, and even if they hadn't, nothing they could’ve done would warrant meeting up after centuries apart. Despite all her doubts and questions she wasn’t sure she wanted the answers to, Sam needed to know, above all else, if her people were safe. Determination coursing through her veins, she spoke up: 

“As you all know, when I ascended to the throne, taking the mantle from my grandmother, I swore on my life and honour that everything I would do, every single decision I would take, would be with our safety in mind.

“When I read the Ghost King’s letter, I was as stunned as you are now. A thousand questions running freely through my mind. I have thought about this long and hard, until I reached my decision.” She lay her eyes on the potion-maker, “Wilhelmina, you are in your right to be suspicious of his intentions, for so am I, but just like this could be a trap, not answering their call could also very well be our downfall.

“Ghosts are mischievous, resentful, and self-centred. Everything they do is based on what gives them even the smallest amount of satisfaction, which often means that the only way to appease them is doing as they say.” When Margaret opened her mouth to intervene, Sam silenced her with a raised palm. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way,  but it is. And that is not all. You might think I am making this choice lightly, but nothing further from the truth. In accepting Phantom’s proposal, I am trying to prevent the ghosts from retaliating, for they could endanger us if I were to refuse in revenge.”

Her violet eyes shone with fiery determination and unwavering confidence as she spoke her last words, “My decision is made. I shall go to the Ghost Zone, even if I must do so on my own. But I will protect our clan if it’s the last thing I do.”

A deafening silence hung in the air. Nobody even moved. Finally, Margaret intertwined her fingers, her shoulders resting atop her desk, her body moving forward. Her green eyes betrayed none of her feelings on the matter. “Very well. Feel free to request anything you might need from us. Have a safe journey, my Queen.”

And with that, every single witch present rose from her seat, bowing their heads to their leader as a sign of respect and submission. 

She’d done it. She was going to go to the Ghost Zone.

......................

Once the meeting was over, Sam got ready to leave the room to start preparing as soon as possible when a hand on her shoulder stopped her. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Delilah smiling at her. She smiled back. 

“Is everything alright, Delilah?” Since the shapeshifter and her were close in age, she was one of the few witches Sam acted casually to, seeing her as some sort of older sister. 

Delilah shook her head, the smile never leaving her face. “I just wanted to wish you luck, Sam. You’re not just our queen, you’re also the first witch to visit the Ghost Zone in centuries!”

“I know.” Sam looked down on the floor, feeling slightly uneasy. 

Sensing her discomfort, Delilah soon changed the topic. “Also, I just wanted to tell you that your Grandmother would have been incredibly proud.” 

Sam gasped. Family was taboo around Delilah, for her family had the misfortune of dying young. Delilah’s own mother had died when her daughter was just fifteen. For her to bring up Grandma Ida...she must have meant every single word she said. 

“Thank you, Delilah. That means a lot.”

With one squeeze of her hands, the blue-eyed beauty left her alone. 

......................

That night, after a long, nerve-wracking day waiting for the Witch Queen’s reply, Danny was startled out of his musings by a ring of his doorbell. Taking off and changing his legs for a ghostly tail, the white-haired young man sprinted down his lair’s corridors until he was face to face with his door. 

When he opened it, to his immense relief, he found the same ghostly postman he had sent to deliver his letter, only this time he was handing an envelope to him. Snatching the piece of paper with a quick, “Thanks”, Danny went back to his quarters in a blur. 

Now that he had the envelope in his hands, he couldn’t help but eye it curiously. The envelope was of a rich, royal purple in colour, sealed with a black wax stamp, the relief of it drawing a rose. 

This is it, he thought. Depending on her answer, we’ll either have to look for another solution, or for ways to protect ourselves the moment they turn their backs on us. 

With shaking hands, he ripped open the envelope, taking the letter from inside. An immense relief coupled by a healthy dose of anxiety rolled off of him in waves when his eyes scanned over the words: 

“Dear Sir, 

I accept your proposal. 

We shall meet in a week’s time. 

Cordially, 

Lady Arcana.”

Preparing themselves for a possible betrayal, it was.

..................

Making it to the outskirts of Amity Park was a hassle Danny hadn’t anticipated. If it weren’t because a group of mysterious women and a ghost suddenly appearing in their lab, in front of the Fenton Ghost Portal, wouldn’t fly with his parents, Danny would’ve actually sent the witches there.

Then again, guiding Skulker out of his family’s ghost portal and around town until they made it to their destination was no picnic, either. Especially since the hunter kept giving him the stink-eye and challenging his authority; questioning his motives for choosing him, of all people, as the sorceresses’ escort. 

On top of that, the hills surrounding Amity Park really were the perfect place to meet up with the magic users while keeping the secretive nature of their encounter. Not only were the hills a good forty minutes away from the closest highway, a dense forest grew there, protecting its visitors from curious, unwanted eyes. 

“For the last time, Skulker, I am not throwing you to the wolves!” It was the tenth time since they left the Ghost Zone that the ghost had accused him of using him as a decoy. “Seriously, will you drop it already?”

The hunter crossed his arms in a disbelieving huff, “Well, forgive me, your Majesty,” he mocked, “for suspecting you of using this as an opportunity to get rid of one of your detractors.” His glowing green eyes narrowed in distrust. 

It was only 11AM and Danny was already exhausted. Technically, Skulker wasn’t exactly a detractor of his rule. When push came to shove, he was always easy to convince to lend a hand in times of needーsuch as now. Having said that, their mutual respect and the halfa’s position didn’t stop Skulker from hunting him for sport now and then. “Listen, me choosing you has nothing to do with your personal feelings about me. You’re really the only one I could send to guide the witches through the Ghost Zone.” 

“Nice to know I’m so easily disposable…” Skulker quipped sarcastically. “Why not ask your canine companion for help?”

“Come on, you really think I could send Cujo to do this job?” Danny asked, unamused. 

“I was actually talking about Wulf, given he’s the only ghost capable of creating portals.” Skulker met his expression with a raised eyebrow of his own. “I can’t believe you’d actually mix them up.”

Danny actually flushed at that, “W-well…Some ghosts have so many things in common, i-it’s a little bit hard to follow without enough...details…”

The hunter took offence to that. Huffing, he shot the halfa a glare. “Well, excuse us for ‘having so many things in common’”, he air-quoted for emphasis, “not all of us can manifest into the body of a human youth, whelp!”

Exasperated, Danny ran a hand through his hair, sighing through his nose. “I still can’t believe Ember hasn’t dumped you yet…” he muttered under his breath.

Unfortunately for him, Skulker heard him just fine. “Says the boy who hasn’t had a girlfriend since he was fourteen.” Seeing the ghost boy’s offended expression plastered a smirk on his face.

“Why you littleー!” Danny stopped himself before he’d lose his cool. If dealing with Skulker, a ghost he’d known since he was fourteen, was proving to be frustrating, he didn’t want to think how meeting up with the queen of a feuding tribe would be like. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he gave it one last try. “Look, Skulker. As much as I’d love to bicker with you like an old married couple all day, we really don’t have time for this. You’re here because you’re one of the most versatile ghosts I know. If there’s anyone capable of handling a group of spellcasting, broom-riding, black-cat-owning ladies, that’s you.”

Before the metallic spectre could so much as get a word in, the young Ghost King leapt into the air after making a show of looking at his ーinexistentー watch. “Oh, look at the time! The witches will be here any minute now. Better hurry back into the Ghost Zone. See ya!” With a mock salute thrown at Sulker’s general direction, he was gone in a blur of black and white. 

The hunter was about to take off after him when, from  the corner of his eyes, he noticed three cloaked figures approaching. Well, he sighed in defeat, it’s showtime.

Sam arched a questioning eyebrow at the ghost standing on the appointed place. He looked like the lovechild of Terminatra, one her favourite monsters of all time, and a G.I. Joe. With a flaming mohawk worthy of the Ghost Rider himself. In a way, she guessed it was fitting. Her lip curled in disgust when she eyed the arrangement of weapons strapped to his person; a hunter, no doubt. 

If the Ghost King expected to scare her and her guards with such a pathetic display, he had another thing coming. Any other would be at the very least intimidated by the ghost’s burly figure and his imposing aura, but to women who battled grotesque creatures resulting from spells gone wrong on a daily basis, that was nothing.

After getting the approval of the Council for her “little expedition”, Sam recruited two witches: Susan Zhou and Stephanie Baker. To an outsider, taking only two other people with her to face such a powerful entity as Danny Phantom, in unknown territory, no less, would seem foolish, even suicidal. But Sam was no outsider; she knew exactly what she was doing. 

Susan was Wilhelmina’s apprentice, and therefore, the clan’s next Ministre of War and master potion-maker once her mentor passed down the mantle to her. Short in height, tall in ambition, the Asian girl’s brown eyes were calculating and, if you were foolish enough to cross her, unforgiving; but full of warmth and mischief if she considered you a friend. She held her black and red-dyed hair in a pair of identical buns, one on each side of her head. Susan always favoured comfortable clothing most people would dedicate solely for doing exercise; you never knew when you’d have to exert yourself, she always said. 

Despite being only seventeen years old, she already displayed great proficiency in the art of combat, her dexterous fingers useful both for brewing concoctions and sporting weapons. Susan’s family emigrated from China in the early 19th century. After much traveling, they stumbled upon the origins of what would become Amity Park, where the first members of the clan had already settled. Upon finding out the Zhou family weren’t just witches but also warriors, the coven welcomed them with open arms. 

Warrior blood ran through her veins. It was no wonder their war-oriented council member had personally chosen her as her protegée. 

Stephanie, however, was more of an intellectual. The 21-year-old woman was an avid reader who spent most of her time holed up inside the manor’s archives, where the spell books and records on their clan’s history were stored. The only other person who knew the place better than Stephanie herself was Delilah, who was actually its guardian. But since Sam couldn’t risk leaving her people without a member of the Council, due to her departure being risky enough, she asked Stephanie for help instead. 

In truth, everything about the young woman screamed bookworm. Stephanie was a rather plain-looking girl, with a lanky figure and a long face, whose pale blue eyes were hidden behind a pair of oval-shaped glasses. Her straight, strawberry blond hair reached a little past her shoulders, and she was wearing a purple and white striped t-shirt with an equally purple pencil skirt and white sneakers. 

As soon as they neared the place where the ghost was standing, Sam nodded at him in acknowledgement; a mere formality given her low opinion on the spectre, which, she was sure, was mutual on his behalf. 

Eyes narrowed in suspicion, Skulker warned the witches in his care, “No funny business, ladies. Or I might consider reforming my island so I can have more pelts hung on my walls.” He sent them a malicious grin.

While Sam rolled her eyes at the unnecessary threat and Stephanie flinched away from him in fright, Susan bore her teeth in aggravation. “I’d like to see you try, ghost.”

Both teenager and hunter stared the other down, but before they had the chance to jump at each other’s throats and brawl, the Witch Queen raised a placating hand, effectively telling her subject to stand down. Still, Susan would’ve given anything to wipe that smug look from the ghost’s face. 

But Sam really hadn’t the time to keep those two in check. Focusing on the energy within her, she blocked everything around her, every possible distraction, out of her mind. All that mattered was her connection to her anima. Once she felt the familiar tingling of power, she extended a hand: Stephanie’s signal to take the magic  grimoire out of the duffel bag she carried and hand it to her queen with a bow of her head.

Skimming through the pages, Sam stopped when she found what she was looking for. A section of the spell book portraying the silhouette of a person in front of a swirling opal, several runes surrounding it. 

The spell to open up portals.

Once upon a time, any witch would have been able to conjure the spell without the need to check it out in a book, but ever since witches and spectres parted ways, her people no longer had the same use for it anymore. Nowadays, it was an almost forgotten practice. 

Taking a deep breath, Sam extended her free hand in front of her and chanted, “Alium se orbem terrarum ad ianuam.” Soon, a familiar sparkly, violet mist emanated from her fingertips. The manifestation of energy rose into the air until it was the size of an average person, and then began to spin up and down, until a portal was in front of them. 

Stephanie raised a confused eyebrow at Skulker when she thought she heard him mutter something along the lines of, “Show off”, but squeaked and looked away when the hunter lay his own eyes on her. 

Handing the book back to the bestacled girl, Sam motioned for them to enter the portal. What they saw on the other side left them speechless. 

The Ghost Zone was nothing like they had imagined. Instead of a clear difference between earth and sky, their world’s parallel dimension seemed to consist solely of a never ending abyss composed purely by ectoplasm, the most reminiscent thing to a floor it had being a few beat-up pathways made out of rock. 

Floating in mid-air were all sorts of lairs. Some, like a faraway island in the shape of a skull, far more pretentious than others. Judging by how scarce those were in comparison to the countless doors with no building to be attached to in sight, Sam figured the more powerful a ghost was, the bigger its lair would be. 

Which bore the question: what would Danny Phantom’s lair be like?

Sam was snapped out of her thoughts by the ghost hunter suddenly materialising in front of her. Susan was about to unsheathe a few of her most lethal potions when the apparition simply showed them the way with a motion of his hand. “This way.” He turned around and began walking, after a minute or two, though, he turned his head to them, “Oh, and by the way, if any of you is afraid of heights, you’d better not look down.”

Stephanie gazed down, unbidden, and almost fainted. Below them was nothing but an endless abyss, no land on sight. Feeling queasy, she squeaked, “Dutifully noted.”

They walked along the rocky path for what could’ve been hours or mere minutes, the absence of a sun making it difficult to accurately pinpoint the passage of time. After what felt like an eternity, Skulker abruptly stopped, almost making Sam and her entourage bump on him in the process, pointing somewhere in front of him. 

“Well, this is it, ladies. The Ghost King’s lair.”

Standing proudly on top of a drifting piece of land was a brick three-story building. If Sam hadn’t known any better, she’d think she was looking at an apartment complex, rather than a king’s castle. Then again, Skull Island ーas she lovingly nicknamed the placeーwas very tacky for a powerful’s ghost lair, so for all she knew the building before her could be the latest scream in home decor in the Ghost Zone.

While it was a mostly modest space, the highest floor in particular stood out for its large picture windows, which were at least three times bigger than the rest. “That must be Phantom’s chambers”, the violet-eyed girl guessed. “Overseeing your subjects, eh, your Majesty?”

When they arrived at the door, they were momentarily startled when it opened on its own accord. The Witch Queen scoffed at her own ridiculous behaviour; she’d seen and done way scarier things on Halloween, for fuck’s sake! Once inside, Skulker guided them through several corridors, taking so many turns in so many different directions it was enough to render anyone disoriented. As they strode down the halls, Sam took notice of how...sterile the lair was. Most walls were bare of any decorations, at most they’d have some sort of blue wallpaper on. The few walls with paintings hanging from them were decorated by rather impersonal portraits: a picture of an ectoplasm swirl here, a portrait of a shapeless ghost there… Instead of a castle interior, this looked more like a cheap Halloween haunted house. 

The place was so barren that she noticed the shift immediately. Suddenly, before her were two large, mahogany doors, which, once again, opened without any exterior help, revealing the throne room.

While still impersonal, the space was much grander in every single sense of the word. Granite, Corinthian columns stood proudly on the sidelines. Several tapestries depicting what Sam could only guess was Danny Phantom’s battle against Pariah Dark and a few other adventures she couldn’t recognise hung from the ceiling. Right in front of them a red velvet carpet was rolled down until it reached the throne itself ーa rather modest metal chair with black velvet upholsteryー where the infamous Ghost King was seated on. 

Upon their arrival, the ghostly monarch stood up in respect. “At least he’s not arrogant enough to forsake manners”, Sam quipped internally. Standing at both sides of him were a bipedal, arctic-wolf like creature with an arm encased in ice, and a blue spectre wearing a hooded outfit, a sceptre in hand, whose physical form was constantly fluctuating between child, adult, and old man. 

As the Queen and her companions neared the throne, and hence, the so-called Hero of Amity Park, she took him in. Snow white hair, glowing green eyes that appeared capable of staring right through you, a black and white hazmat suit over a well-built physique… Yep, in front of her was Danny Phantom, alright. 

The only thing making it obvious that she would be addressing the Ghost King instead of the most controversial public figure in town was a very minor, yet significant, change in his appearance. 

Draped over his shoulders was a cape, white on the outside and black on the inside, with two verdigris medallions which had engraved that wretched logo of his keeping the garment in place with the help of a chain. Resting on his shock white hair, reflecting the item’s otherworldly glow, was the Crown of Fire; its green embers burning almost as intensely as the Phantom’s radioactive green eyes. The crown’s partner, the Ring of Wrath, surrounded his white, gloved ring finger. One could feel the raw power emanating from its green material. The mere sight of the engraved skull and its unforgiving, blood red, ruby eyes was enough to send anyone subjected to it running. 

But there was no way Sam would ever run away after making it this far. 

Danny observed patiently as the Witch Queen and her two companionsーonly two?ー arrived before him. Once they were eye-level (or as eye-level as two people could be when someone was standing over an incline) the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park took off her hood. At the sight before him, Danny had to fight very hard to suppress a sharp inhale in surprise. 

He supposed that, in hindsight, expecting the queen to look like an stereotypical wrinkly old lady was a tad narrow-minded of him, but in all fairness, nothing would’ve prepared him for the person standing right in front of him. 

Upon taking off her hood, silky, raven hair came cascading down until it reached a little past her shoulders, the strands and diamond-shaped fringe framing her heart-shaped face. Smooth, ivory skin contrasted greatly with the mop of hair, black as night, resting on her head. Her full, velvety lips were emphasised by her purple lipstick. And her long, mascara-coated lashes surrounded a pair of amethyst orbs. Those had to be the most tantalising eyes he had ever seen; a galaxy of mystery lay hidden behind their depths. 

Lady Arcana was the kind of woman he would’ve tripped himself over for, back in high school. Now a college student...he might’ve signed up to a couple of classes that had absolutely nothing to do with his degree if it meant seeing her again.

Looking down, and praying to all things above him it wasn’t noticeable, he took notice of what the sorceress was wearing. The Queen was wearing an off-shoulder ball gown, of a pale violet in colour, with a sweetheart neckline. The bodice hugged her body until it flared down into the skirt. Adorning its neckline and hem were embroidered black thorns. Resting on her head lay a silver tiara, with diamond-shaped obsidians running alongside the top ornament, and a noticeably bigger amethyst in its centre. A black and glittery cloak, resembling the night sky, rested atop the young witches’ shoulders.

Beautiful, yet deadly. A clear warning against the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park: get too close, and you will regret it. 

Knowing they had much to discuss, the halfa bowed down before her, with a hand behind his back and the other in front of him, making a flourish, as a sign of respect. “Lady Arcana, it is an honour to have you here.”

Sam and her entourage curtsied in response. “King Phantom, the honour is all mine.”

“I will cut to the chase, since the circumstances are unorthodox enough: my people need your assistance.”

Well, at least he was direct… “And what, exactly, is that which you need help with, your Majesty? As much as I would like to aid you, there is not much I can do without knowing the details.”

“And you are in your right to question that, but first…”

With a motion of his hand, a green-skinned, red-eyed maid wearing a blue dress brought a smaller chair close to the king. When his eyes landed on Sam, she understood that was meant for her. If there was one thing experience had told her, that was that being invited to sit down meant it was going to be a lengthy discussion. 

When Lady Arcana had sat down, Danny continued. “Now, that’s better.” Seeing her unresponsive expression, he cleared his throat nonchalantly. “What we need your help with is the Ghost Zone’s portals.”

The violet-eyed  girl raised a confused eyebrow at that. “The portals?”, Phantom nodded. “But, King Phantom, my people have not had anything to do with your world in centuries! Today was the first time in over three-hundred years that anyone used a spell meant to open portals.”

Leaning forward in an attempt to appear closer and not intimidating, trying to get the witches to underestimate him per Frosbite’s suggestion, Danny explained. “My apologies, your Majesty, I did not mean to imply your people were responsible for the problem. No, what I mean is that only your people can help us control them.”

Sam didn’t understand where this was going. Taking her silence as permission, Danny went on, “As you know, the Ghost Zone has been opening up portals to Earth for millenia, however, many more gates have been opened as of late. Many more than any previous date has ever registered.” Understanding dawning on the queen’s face, Danny pressed. “We wish to ask you to help us close and pinpoint the cause for such bizarre occurrences.”

Sam had mixed feelings about the proposal. On the one hand, random portals opening up was never a good sign; the space-continuum fabric was very delicate. But, on the other hand, her people would gain nothing from it. Nothing but endangering themselves by putting their lives in the hands of ghosts. She had to make sure her trip hadn’t been for nothing and that her people were truly safer for it. 

Resting her elbow on the arm of her chair, her legs crossed in boredom, Sam appraised the apparition before her with a pensive frown. “And how exactly, pray tell, would my people benefit from assisting your kind, your Majesty?”

The way she basically spat the word didn’t go unnoticed by the white-haired half-ghost. He narrowed his eyes on her. “Well, your people,” he snarled in return, “would be safe, of course.”

Sam’s hopes plummeted. He was all talk, just as she feared. ‘Her people would be safe’? Was he threatening her? Please, they were already in danger solely from his knowing of their existence, let alone their headquarters! With a huff, Sam stood up from her chair. The conversation was over. “Thank you for having us, King Phantom. But I am afraid we must depart.”

Although the original plan was to ask them for help and look for alternatives were they to refuse, seeing the queen walking away from him stirred a primal fear in Danny. Somehow, he knew she was the only one who could help him. They were doomed if he let her slip away. “Lady Arcana, wait!”

His frantic call got Sam to stop. Looking over her shoulder, she gave him her full attention. Seeing he had caught her interest, Danny insisted. “When I said your people would be safe, it wasn’t an empty promise: the sudden appearance of portals is a sign that something is amiss. The more portals open, the more unstable our world becomes.” What he said next was chilling enough to elicit goosebumps to run down their spines. “The Ghost Zone is a parallel dimension to Earth, if our realm is destroyed, so is yours.”

Sam’s eyes widened at his words, even Susan couldn’t stifle a startled gasp. If what he was saying was true, then her people were doomed, regardless of how well-kept their secret was. If she refused his proposal, her subjects and the other clans all over the world would pay greatly for her mistake. However…

Her gaze hardened, determination motivating her actions once again. In the off chance that Phantom was only making things up to get her to agree, she needed to ensure her people wouldn’t pay for her mistake. And there was only one way to do it. 

Taking firm steps, she walked resolutely to where the green-eyed spirit stood. Staring deep into his eyes, she made her counterproposal. “Very well, I shall help you with your problem.” 

Before Danny could let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, Lady Arcana spoke up again. “But in return for my services you must ensure my people’s safety. Under no circumstances will anyone discover our existence or whereabouts. We already have to deal with a witch huntress coming after us.” She could’ve sworn the king choked at that. “If I find out our way of living has been compromised in any way, you and your kingdom are all alone. Now,” she extended her hand for him to shake, “do we have a deal, King Phantom?”

Danny eyed her suspiciously. Her violet eyes simultaneously held a fiery temper and cold determination, even with his powers, he could sense there’d be Hell to pay if he didn’t keep his part of the deal. Then again, everything they’d ever known was in danger, even if the Queen couldn’t care less for the Ghost Zone and its inhabitants, and her request was what any sensible and caring leader would ask for. On paper it looked like the perfect compromise…

He just hoped he didn’t come to regret it.

Holding the witch’s hand in a firm grip, he shook hands with her. “We have a deal, Lady Arcana.”

[lovelyirony]

Hi! “If I fail, I’ll fall apart/Maybe it is all a test/because I feel like I’m the worst / so I always act like I’m the best” -Oh No! This is one of my favorite lyrics ever, and I'd really like to see what you bring out of it :) You're amazing, ily! 💞

what if maria had more of an effect on tony’s upbringing than most? howard’s still a dick but make it funny

Tony has known he was probably not the best human on earth ever since he was five and his dad made a bigger deal out of a dead man’s birthday than his own. 

At age five, you don’t really know a lot about the world yet. There were about two things that Tony didn’t know that he wishes he did know: 

1.) The word “fuck.” It would have helped with a lot of his situations. 

2.) The concept of jealousy. He probably could have gone to a child therapist or some shit, he’s not sure if those even existed back then, or if his parents would have even let him go. 

(After all, he’s supposed to be their perfect little boy, just the right amount of precocious and the other amount being something like genius or respectability.) 

It is actually his mother who takes the reins on his life. Howard has effect, he has huge effects. 

Maria is a socialite who absolutely refuses to let her son succumb to Howard’s devil-may-care attitude that he’s so infamous for. Her son is going to be well-mannered, respectable, and know exactly how to treat a lady of high social standing. 

This involves training at a young age. Six would be a fine age. 

It’s not Howard who sends him to boarding schools, it’s Maria. She ensures that he goes to the finest schools available, most abroad in Europe. She trains him out of the American accent, into something a bit more refined. 

He spends summers learning different languages and different skills. He learns how to fence by the time he’s ten, and becomes quite proficient at it. 

She quizzes him on established families, up-and-coming families, and never keeps him far from her sight. 

Anthony Stark is not going to be a wild-child, she decides. 

-

Anthony isn’t, for the most part. Sure, he usually stays up past what is acceptable for the night to work on some mechanic stuff and uses the word “damn” a bit too much for his mother’s liking, but that’s the reason make-up and apologies were invented. 

He follows rules and is known to smile like his mother and enjoy listening to quartets play out in the open air during the summer months. He travels to Europe and participates in various activities and is the talk of many socialites who eagerly await his arrival. 

He’s a portrait, holding still for all’s approval, and he’s not quite sure how to move. 

That’s troublesome, he thinks. 

The problem is this: Anthony Stark doesn’t have any interests outside what is required. He loves working on inventions, and they are necessary for the company to survive, but his father hates any robotic invention he pushes for, and mother thinks that if he tells people he’s rather fond of AC/DC then he’s a plague to society and will be shunned. 

(He doesn’t say it to her face but they haven’t shunned Sunset yet, and she’s a whole world of problems, so rock music is the least of their problems.) 

There is one thing that he pushes for: university in the United States. He’s been traveling to Europe since he was a child, and he honestly needs to do something for himself. 

Maria is not pleased. 

“So after I sacrifice so much for you, this is how you repay me?” she asks him over dinner. 

He places his fork to the correct side. 

“Yes. This is how I am repaying you. By getting a perfectly respectable college degree from a critically-acclaimed university that anyone would be lucky to attend. Not to mention it might reflect badly on Stark Industries if I don’t go to an American college. Do I not trust American institutions to run an American business?” 

“You shouldn’t.” 

Anthony laughs. 

“Mother, they cannot teach me anything that Europe can’t. Let me go to college in the United States. Please.” 

“No.” 

- 

It takes Howard to convince her, and a.) Howard doesn’t even like Anthony that much, and b.) he also doesn’t like his wife that much. 

“He’s going to a damned college here, Maria. We don’t need him to go to any more of that fancy bullshit you call school over there.” 

“Fancy bullshit, Howard?! Bullshit?! You mean what has gotten him this far in life and will make him a better man of social standing than you?” 

“My god, is social standing all that matters to you? What are your little friends going to do, choke on their silver spoons when they find out that your son is going to an American college?” 

- 

Jarvis also convinces her. 

“It will be easier to monitor his progress from a shorter distance,” he advises. “And you can visit frequently.” 

Anthony gives him a very dirty look. Apparently, he wasn’t supposed to mention that. 

Oops. 

-

But, Anthony gets his way. He’s going to MIT, and he has a roommate. 

(Okay, so mother doesn’t know that. But he supposes she will if she ever visits. Or maybe not considering if Tony can successfully convince his roommate to “disappear” for at least a day.) 

-

Rhodey does not give a singular shit about high society anything or anyone. Anthony Stark is a name he registers, but doesn’t recognize. 

“Anthony’s a mouthful,” he says a week into their cohabitation. “You have a nickname or something?” 

“Ah...no? I mean, not yet,” Anthony says. 

“How do you feel about Tony?” 

“I...I suppose that that is alright.” 

“Are you from Europe?” 

“No, from New York.” 

“Well holy shit, you sure as fuck don’t sound like it.” 

- 

Anthony--well, Tony now--learns quite a bit about American schooling and what he’s actually supposed to be doing to pass off as normal. 

Rhodey (yeah he got a nickname that ended in ‘y’ too, Tony said he wouldn’t be the only one) takes him to the thrift store and tells him to pick out some clothes. 

“...there’s a shirt that’s advertising a restaurant from Montana.” 

“And? Does it look hilarious?” 

“Is that the point of this?” 

“Fashion is supposed to make you like what you’re wearing or like yourself. I swear if you say that those boring black suits make you feel better about yourself, I will be dragging you to any therapist that will take us for at least five dollars.” 

“Five dollars?” 

“Maybe less if I can negotiate.” 

“Hey!” 

- 

Tony learns how to have fun. He loves it. 

Rhodey makes him go to record stores and find the bargain bin, and they play the warped records and laugh as voices go up and down in pitch. Tony blasts Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden until the RA begs him to go to bed and Rhodey throws all of his pillows off of his bed. 

In return, Tony teaches Rhodey how to read other’s facial expressions, dress for any occasion and be the best-looking there, as well as avoiding any sort of conflict by bringing up past embarrassments. 

“Are you serious about the color of my shoe affecting my social standing?” Rhodey asks, trying to shove his foot into a shoe that was a brown color that Tony had described as a “golden mahogany.” 

“Yes, I’m dead serious.” 

“No fucking wonder everyone says eat the rich all of you are so fucking pretentious. It’s brown, Tony.” 

“Tell that to any high society woman over fifty.” 

“I will.” 

- 

As it turns out, he ends up doing it much sooner than anticipated. 

Tony’s parents come to visit. 

They call him Anthony. Which is gross. Rhodey hasn’t used the name “Anthony” in about six months. 

“I wasn’t aware that you were his roommate,” his mother says. 

“Well, here I am,” Rhodey says. “Name’s also on the information they sent out to the parents about the living situations.” 

Tony tenses as his parents brush off the obvious comment on how little they actually know about his situation and move right into the room. 

Maria stops at the huge poster of a rock band. 

“I assume that this is...James’?” 

“No,” he says timidly. “It’s...it’s mine. Their use of movement on the guitar strings-” 

“Take it down,” Maria demands. “It’s unsightly.” 

“Oh give the kid a break,” Howard says tiredly. “For once he’s not listening to you talk about the merits of paisley prints.” 

“I’m training our son for a more successful life than yours,” Maria hisses. “Of course, you’d have to stay away from your friend Jack to understand that.” 

“Rhodey, leave,” Tony says. “Trust me, it gets messier from here.” 

He does think about it. How easy it would be to walk out and check in with a couple of his other friends and talk about how crazy Tony’s parents are. How he could check back in near dinner time and then Tony could tell him all about how terribly it went. 

But Tony already looks terrible, and he’s doing that weird thing with his hands where he wrings them and then remembers he’s not supposed to wring them and makes it worse. 

“No,” Rhodey says. “I am staying until the bitter end. Who knows? Maybe I can give your mom a heart attack when I ask her the difference between kelly and forest green.” 

Tony grins. 

“You can leave any time, it’s about to get...interesting.” 

- 

Tony’s family is quite dysfunctional. They can put on a good front in public, for what it’s worth. 

Howard is impressed that Rhodey’s planning on going into the Air Force and then talks about Captain America for a lot of the dinner. Rhodey is very uncomfortable and then asks about business and Maria rolls her eyes and orders another glass of wine. 

After Howard finishes up talking about some contract and making vague threats against businesses that Rhodey thinks might actually be in trouble, it’s Maria’s turn. 

“So, Rhodey, where is your family from?” 

“We live in the Boston area,” Rhodey answers. 

“And what do your parents do?” 

“Dad works as a consultant for a local construction company, and my mom works as a high school history teacher. They both like their jobs.” 

“Hm,” Maria remarks, and it’s so light and casual and yet so cutting. Tony can see how Rhodey squirms, and he can’t just let it stand. 

It’s one thing for Maria to cut her own son down until he’s nothing. Still fucked up, but Tony can handle it. He’s been handling it for years. 

“Rhodey, how did your mom come to want to know she liked teaching?” Tony asks. “That sounds like it could be really hard to figure out.” 

“Oh, well it all started when she was in high school and wanted to change how one of her teachers treated students. It was a really inspiring moment for her.” 

“That sounds really cool,” Tony says. “What does she like most about her job?” 

“Probably the kids,” Rhodey says. 

The conversation carries on about Rhodey’s family until their dinner arrives and his mother manages to cut in with more questions. 

“So, what else does your mother do?” 

“She volunteers at the local food kitchen and helps some of the younger kids at the after-school program,” Rhodey answers. “She also makes a mean Thanksgiving turkey.” 

“Would you look at that,” Tony says. “Mrs. Rhodes sounds like a fine cook, I wish I could say the same for you, mother.” 

“Oh?” 

Howard actually laughs at that as he signs for the bill. 

“The kid is right, Maria. At some points I think your kitchen is only used for decoration.” 

“Oh, and you know how to cook, Mr. Stark?” Maria asks, raising her eyebrows. “I’d love to see you make anything other than coffee.” 

“I’ll make toast.” 

Rhodey laughs, and so does Tony. 

“Ready to go?” Tony asks, and part of it is a way to get away from an isolated conversation, and part of it is to make his parents leave for their hotel room sooner. 

“Tony, I want to have a talk with you before we retire for the night,” Maria says, and Tony tenses up. 

Rhodey can’t protect him from that, and he squeezes Tony’s hand as they walk behind his parents. 

“It’ll be okay,” he whispers. 

“Maybe,” Tony says. “Maybe.” 

- 

Rhodey goes into their building, and Howard waits in the car. He nods to Tony on his way out. 

“You’ve...changed,” mother says. 

“Well, that’s how humanity goes,” Tony says dryly, looking anywhere but her eyes. 

“Rock music? These snappish remarks towards your own mother? I don’t know if this college was such a good idea.” 

“It is,” Tony says. “I just...learned new things and incorporated it into my life. Nothing the matter with that.” 

“Nothing wrong with that?” Maria reiterates, surprised look on her face. “Rock music is for other people, you know things that others don’t know! You can perform violin and piano, you don’t have to listen to the personal manifestation of a headache!” 

“And if I like that headache?!” Tony asks. “If I like something that’s outside of what you approve, why so angry about it? Is it because you finally can’t control every single aspect about my identity? Is it because I’m not like your perfect little toy that you can make walk and talk how you like?” 

“You know it’s not that.” 

“Isn’t it?” Tony asks. “Because you want me to change every single interest that I’ve found I like by myself. I bet you want me to listen to Bach for fun.” 

“I do not want you to change from who you are,” Maria says. “You have eaten at the finest restaurants in the world and now you brag about making something called ramen in a microwave. A microwave?!” 

“A surprising amount of families in America have them,” Tony says. “And I’m a college student! I’m supposed to eat crappy food and then laugh about it in twenty years!” 

Maria turns red, and her lips screw up into a tight line. 

“I don’t think you should be here,” Maria says. “You’re forgetting your place. Your roommate is...” 

“My roommate is what,” Tony starts, glaring at her. “My roommate is what, mother? You want to honestly finish that sentence?” 

“He’s not good enough!” she yells at him. “You are a Stark!” 

Tony stares at her for a moment. And then another moment. 

“Leave,” he says. “Get the hell out of here.” 

“You don’t tell me-” 

“I do,” Tony says, using his full height to his advantage. “You can tell me how many times I’ve fucked up as many times as you want, but you never talk about James that way ever again.” 

He twists on his heel, forcefully opening the door to the dormitory and not once looking back. 

- 

Rhodey finds Tony back in his room when he gets back from getting ready for the night, and Tony is clutching a pillow and laying face down on the bed. 

“You know, you’ll have to turn over eventually to get some fresh air.” 

“Leave me to die, Rhodey. Oh my god.” 

“That bad?” 

“That bad. She’s probably going to try and put me in a prestigious college or some shit.” 

“Oof. Wanna fake your death and run away?” 

“Please.” 

“Well, too bad. I have a test next week, and you need to do your poetry notes.” 

“But poetry sucks.” 

“It only sucks because you don’t like modern poetry, suck it up and pull it out of your ass or something.” 

“Ugh, fine.” 

- 

Maria is trying very hard to get her son away from MIT and towards a fancy school in Europe. She doesn’t even care where, just away from his roommate and his classic rock posters and the dormitory. Anthony needs an environment where he can focus on networking, meeting more people. 

Howard says no. 

He can’t even bother to remember her son’s birthday, and he says “no.” 

“We need Anthony to go to an American school, and nothing is better besides maybe Cal Tech, and he’ll have to finish another year of college and Hammer Industries can use that as a sign of an unsteady heir.” 

“Well then get rid of his roommate.” 

“I’m not doing that, you’re asking for a PR death sentence.” 

“He’s a bad influence.” 

“No he’s not,” Howard says tiredly. “The kid is finally standing up for himself, and you hate that.” 

“I don’t hate that he can be his own person.” 

“You just wish he were his own person under your specifications,” Howard drawls. “He’s staying at MIT, that’s final.” 

“Hmph.” 

Howard rolls his eyes. 

“Go back to planning whatever charity gala you’re hosting this week, honey. I’m sure things will be fine.” 

Maria doesn’t speak against her husband, just fumes and decides she’s going to try to get Jarvis’ opinion. 

-

Edwin is also a flat no. 

“He will not forgive you if you do this,” he says, pouring her tea and adding in one sugar cube. “He loves his school, he talks about it all the time.” 

“And what, he calls you?” 

Edwin Jarvis realizes he shouldn’t have mentioned this. 

“At times, madam. At times. Will that be all?” 

“...that will be all.” 

Jarvis does bring up a good point. Besides her, of course, he knows Anthony best, even if he does keep calling him Tony. Anthony will grow out of that nickname soon enough. 

She has hope for her boy. He will most likely grow out of this silly little phase in life and finally appreciate her lessons. 

- 

Tony Stark doesn’t. 

Well, he learns her lessons. Can appreciate some of them and how much he hates that he uses them. 

But he learns a far more important lesson from Rhodey, and it shapes everything: 

“You’re your own person, and you’re far better as your own person,” Rhodey says. “I wanted to kick the shit out of you when we first lived together.” 

“You did?” 

“Of course I did!” Rhodey explains, gesturing with his coffee mug and getting yet another stain on the pillow. (Laundry again. Ugh.) “You talked like you were from a movie from the forties, it sucked.” 

“Oh, you mean the transatlantic accent?” 

“It’s pretentious, just ditch it. You’re interesting enough to listen to on your own. I listen to you talk about how much you hate Picasso sculpture, don’t I?” 

“You do,” Tony admits. 

“So then be yourself. Use what your mom taught you sometimes, but otherwise don’t.” 

“You sure?” 

“Of course I’m sure, I’m a fucking genius.” 

Tony snorts. 

“Okay, Mr. ‘I Forgot to Run the Dishes Again.’”

“I already said I was sorry!” 

-

Tony takes Rhodey’s advice into account when he walks into any board room. He wears the worst possible shoes with every single suit, usually uses all sorts of cultural references that fly over the old board members’ heads. 

He does things his way. It’s unconventional, it’s unpredictable, and it earns him a reputation. 

He’s in an interview in a suit and patterned tie (patterned with tiny robots), and the woman is smiling in a plastic way on the other side. 

“Now, a lot of people are saying you’re taking the business world by storm with your unconventional methods and personality. What helped you formulate this, your father?” 

“Oh god no,” Tony says, laughing. “He’d probably curse me to hell and back for even wearing this tie. My mother would drag me back down to hell again for this.” 

“Then who helped you with this?” 

“Rhodey, who else?” Tony asks. “He always gives the best advice, even if I’ll deny that about fifteen minutes later. He really is the reason that I’m who I am today.” 

“Seems like a great guy.” 

“He is. He always is,” Tony says with a grin. “Except, of course, when he doesn’t fold his laundry, that bastard.” 

The interviewer laughs and moves on, but Tony smiles to himself. 

He doesn’t have to be the best, he just has to be Rhodey’s. That’s all that matters. 

[revengerevisited]

So I’ve been kinda dancing around my original story idea for a little while, and I got this idea in my head of ‘what if I release chapter 1 and then get feedback without telling anyone what the story is about first so it’s more of a surprise?’ But honestly? I’m realizing since I already released a preview-of-a-preview for chapter 1, and it might be a little while until I finish chapter 1, plus I honestly kinda feel like I’d rather work on sketches of my character designs than write at the moment, I might as well go ahead and tell you guys. X’3

So! I watched a couple anime recently both centered around the premise of... monster girls! These being Monster Musume and Monster Girl Doctor, but then I noticed there’s also Interviews with Monster Girls, A Centaur’s Life, and the infamous Interspecies Reviewers, and I asked myself... Monster girls are pretty popular right now, yeah? But where’s all the monster boys?! And that’s how I got the idea! I re-watched some of my favorite anime based on Otome Games, Kamigami no Asobi and Uta no Prince Sama for inspiration as well, and a few ones I hadn’t seen before like Dance with Devils and Magic-kyun Renaissance for inspiration as well.

So now I’ve got my premise that I shared earlier: This is the story of Millie, a young woman down on her luck who happens to live in a world where monsters aren’t just real, but commonplace. She started working as a maid in a mansion-turned-art-school whose students are a group of very attractive monster boys. The twist is that these aren’t just any monster boys; they belong to various rare and exotic species with deadly reputations...

Note that character and place names are technically place-holders for now and may change if I come up with better ones. Now, I don’t wanna spoil anything story-wise, but I think I can introduce my setting and some of the characters that you’re gonna meet. The story is set in a modern setting, though it’s vague if it’s actually Earth or just some generic world similar to it, as I try to avoid referencing real-world places or events. This is a world where humans and monsters live together after a Great Interspecies War happened in the past, but tensions have mostly relaxed by the time the story takes place. The war could be thought of as the equivalent of our own World War One, one in which there was a truce decided after many years of stalemate fighting.

The city everything takes place in is tentatively named Dullahan, and was built directly after the war to commemorate peace between human and monster kind. It’s considered an artistic cultural center, and it’s got a lot of interesting entertainment places to go to, arcades, theaters, aquariums, etc, that the characters can have a lot of different shenanigans in. The other main setting is the Beaufort Academy of the Arts, which was actually a mansion that was converted into a small private school. This is where all the characters live, and our main character Millie works as a maid there.

Before I go into the characters, I should start with the various monster species. There are 12 species, divided into 2 groups: common monsters and exotic monsters. The common monsters are centaurs, harpies, lamias (snake people), kobolds (dog people), ogres, and merrows (mermaids). These species are all pretty standard, and will be mostly background characters and npcs. The main characters, and love interests for Millie, will be of the exotic variety: arachnes (spider people), sirens (deep-sea mermaids), mandrakes (plant people), dragons, manticores (with a liontaur body-type), and scyllas (octopus people).

So what differentiates a common monster from an exotic one? Well, while the Interspecies War was between humans and monsters in general, some monsters were already at least partially integrated into human society, and the rest followed soon after the war ended. These monsters were almost as common as humans, and either herbivorous or omnivorous, with the exception of the carnivorous lamias who prefer to eat eggs over anything else. On the other hand, the so-called ‘exotic’ species were not only much more rare, but they had a very different food preference... one which earned them the now derogatory nickname... man-eaters.

Naturally, most ‘man-eaters’ weren’t exactly welcomed into human --nor common monster-- society with open arms, not that most of them wanted to. For the most part, species as powerful and dangerous as them didn’t want to play nice with those they had once --and in some cases still do-- regard as prey, and so hid away into the furthest reaches of the world. Which of course makes them perfect material for all our leading men and Millie’s various love-interests!! Oh yes, while all of these monster boys are perfectly civilized --well, for the most part-- they still belong to species that many both human and monster alike continue to fear to this day. While they aren’t exactly fish out of water (well, except for the siren) there’s still plenty of awkward misunderstandings and interesting scenarios that can be played out.

So! Let’s have a quick run-down of the characters, keep in mind that none of these names are final and could change later on. First there’s Millie, a hardworking young woman who’s had a recent streak of bad luck. Through a misunderstanding she gets hired as a maid in a mansion-turned-art-school. She’s very sweet and tries her best to help others, but she’s not as innocent as she appears; she’ll understand your innuendos just fine, even if she doesn’t really say any herself! Next is Richard and Lara Beaufort, a husband and wife who run the school. Richard is rather laid-back, yet he’s also a master of all kinds of art, painting, sculpture, photography, dancing, singing, you name it! Lara is his arachne wife, a rather boisterous woman who owns a high-class fashion company. The secret to her clothing’s success?? Arachne silk, of course! The school was her idea, a way to help better integrate exotic species into society. Will her mission succeed? Only time can tell.

Richard and Lara have a son named Simon, our first love interest and a human-arachne hybrid who takes almost entirely after his mother in the looks-department (hybrids tend to look like one species or the other, rather than a mix of both). He’s a bit withdrawn due to dealing with bullying as a kid; most people --human and monster alike-- are afraid of his spider-like appearance, so he doesn’t get out much-- to the point his parents worry about him being a shut-in for life! He’s also a gamer boy, and has a secret soft side for gothic poetry, although he doesn’t want to join his parents’ art classes. He actually disapproves of his mother’s exotic species integration plan, as from what he’s experienced he feels it’s a waste of time.

Simon’s best friend and Millie’s second love interest is Louis, a mandrake who lives in the woods behind the manor. Louis is extremely shy and more than a bit lonely, even more so than Simon, and he doesn’t speak very often out of fear that the sound of his voice will hurt others around him. Mandrake screams can induce insanity or even kill those that hear them, hence his fear. Being part plant, Louis has mild shape-shifting abilities and is able to transform between child and young adult forms at will, although he’s actually the oldest of the group. He also isn’t a student at the art school, although he has an interest in floristry.

Now for our actual students! Forrest is a manticore, which in this world means he has a body similar to that of a centaur, but with the lower half of a lion instead of a horse, and a scorpion-like tail tipped with a deadly venomous stinger. Despite his species’s name literally meaning ‘man-eater’, Forrest is extremely friendly and cheerful, and is very sporty too. His passion is photography, and he also loves eating food-- any sort of meat dish is fine by him! He’s also a fan of fantasy tabletop roleplaying games, and will often make references comparing them to everyday life; he always plays the knight who saves the princess!

Anthony is a childhood ‘friend’ of Forrest’s, though he’s loathe to admit it. Highly intelligent and highly snobbish, Anthony fancies himself an intellectual-- and he’s not exactly wrong. Being a dragon, he likes to hoard things-- in his case, knowledge. Anthony loves to read, and is most often found in the library. His skill is in drawing and painting, and all his paintings’ invariably morose subject matter worry Millie. Still, this haughty dragon could definitely learn to loosen up a little, and be a little more kind; perhaps his stay at the academy --and his interactions with Millie-- will open his mind to appreciating the feelings of others. He does, at the very least, greatly respect Master Beaufort as a master of the arts.

The other two students are denizens of the sea, and have been friends for a very long time. Emil is a scylla, and like all scyllas he’s a little eccentric, and just can’t seem to keep his tentacles to himself! While Forrest is obsessed with eating, Emil’s true calling is cooking, and he loves making all kinds of dishes, especially anything seafood and/or foreign. Emil also is highly appreciative of women’s fashion, and absolutely adores everything to come from Madam Beaufort’s clothing brand-- so much so that he actually wears them himself! His pretty-boy looks and penchant for wearing women’s clothing actually has Millie mistake him for a girl at first, though he’s very much unafraid to show her his romantic side, or at least what he interprets as romantic... 

Keeping Emil’s pervy antics in check is our sixth and final monster boy, Oswald! As a siren, Oswald spent most of his life in the sea, and still has a lot to learn about humanity. He’s a pretty cool guy but gets a bit embarrassed about his species’s troublesome past as the cause of many shipwrecks at sea, and would prefer to not discuss it. His passion is rock music, and his main instrument is the guitar. He also loves to sing, but refrains from doing so due to the hypnotic effect it has on other species. His lack of legs, tentacles, or a snake-like tail means that like other merrows and sirens he requires a wheelchair to move around on land, and often feels frustrated that he can’t show off how adept he is at traversing water. He’s also easy to embarrass and obsessed with not allowing anything to ‘ruin’ his manly image, including allowing Millie (a girl!) to help carry him around.

So there you have it, all my monster boys! I left out a few things, as those would be major spoilers, but those are my ideas for the characters for now! I’ll try to draw and post some sketches of their designs later. Hopefully I haven’t forgotten anything, but this won’t be the last time I talk about monster boys. Any questions or comments would be very much appreciated! Nsfw questions are allowed (all the boys wear pants for a reason, after all), though I’m currently not sure if this series will be 16+ or 18+, if you catch my meaning. Lemme know how interested you are in this story, or if you’re not interested please let me know that too!