#monster au ace

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Ace's Backstory

Monster: Ghost Word Count: ~1.7K

Relationships Mentioned: Older Brother, (Jack Heart-Trappola, as mentioned in my other headcanons), Father, Mother, unknown adult ab*ser/kidn*pper

TW: Abduction, child ab*se, death, shitty father, implied gambling issues, memory issues, etc. read at your own risk. (<- starts under the cut) -----------------------------------------------------------------------

"I'm gonna beat you home!" Jack scrambled down the stairs of the bus, pausing for a moment to turn around and make sure his little brother didn't fall down the stairs in his excitement to race. Despite his teasing, he was planning on letting Ace pull ahead of him at the last second, his tiny hand securely in his as he tried to rush out of the bus, panting slightly.

"No! No I'm gonna beat you cuz I got your fast shoes from two years ago! 'm gonna beat you!" Giggles spilled from Ace as he raised his foot slightly to show off his hand-me-downs proudly before racing down the sidewalk towards home. His backpack bounced against his back erratically, loose and too big on him, but it didn't matter. Afterall, he was five years old today. And that meant mama would be waiting with fresh cherry pie, and he would get to have the first slice.

Jack counted to five, making sure to say all his "Mississippi's" carefully before bolting to catch up to his little brother, give him a smug smile, and ruffle his fluffy red hair. "Ooooh I don't know if you can beat me yet! Maybe when you're six!" He laughed softly, running ahead just a little as his brother grumbled at him.

"Jaaaaack it's my birthday!! You gotta let me win on my birthday!!!" Ace whined at him, his steps slowing to a sulky walk. If nothing else, showing up at home sad and a little late would let him get his brother in trouble. That, at the very least, would be satisfying. He could hear his big brother snicker as he rounded the corner towards home, the neighbour's hedge hiding him from sight, but not from earshot. He looked down, pouting and trudging, knowing there was no way to beat his big brother now.

He heard the rumble of an engine behind him, but thought nothing of it. One of the neighbour's was likely just parking, or slowing down for the stop sign. If they wanted to ask why he looked so sad, maybe he could get a little treat out of it. Nothing prepared him for the yank he felt on his backpack, making him stumble backwards. He yelped, but the sound was cut off by a large, black, gloved hand covering his mouth as he was pulled into the van. He could feel his heart racing, struggling in the strange mans grip and biting him to call out for his brother. "JACK!"

The van picked up speed as the doors slammed shut, and the man that had been holding him around his waist dropped him onto the cold metal floor. Ace fought to stand back up, tears streaming down his face. "LET ME GO HOME, LET ME G-"

He was quickly silenced with a strong slap from the man who had grabbed him. He recoiled and gasped, his hands coming up to cradle his face as he sobbed and stumbled back until he fell back on his bum.

"I wanna go b-back to mama-" He sobbed and curled up, rocking with the motion of the van.

"Stop crying, that's enough of that shit. I'll shut you up on my own if you don't."

Ace couldn't even register what was being said to him, gasping for air and coughing until he was near dry heaving. He barely registered as the man stood up again, and came closer to him. Through tear-blurred vision he didn't see the mans hand reaching for him again, this time for his hair. His chest hurt from the gasping, the crying, but being lifted up was the last thing he remembered.

-----------------------------------------------

"This.........ola's son."

".......think.......go through.....?"

"Shouldn't have.......indebted to..."

Snippets of a conversation were barely audible to him, and honestly, they made no sense anyways. He slowly sat up, his head pounding. He sniffled and his bottom lip quivered, flopping back down in defeat, whining softly before tears started to stream again, down the bridge of his nose and onto the filthy linoleum floor he was laying down on. He tried to bring his hand up to rub his eye, but struggled against some sort of bind behind his back. He didn't know what it was, and didn't really care. Everything hurt so bad. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore it all, but sobs soon shook his tiny body, trying to keep them quiet in hopes whoever was in the other room would ignore him.

In a room away from him, he could hear the man's voice again.

".....Call you back....collect payment...."

Ace screwed his eyes shut as he heard heavy footsteps lumber into the room he was in, whimpering. He could feel the floor bend under the weight of whoever was in front of him, The mans shadow loomed over him, terrifying Ace as he curled up more and harsh sobs escaped him. He pushed his face into the floor, not wanting to look up. He felt the mans weight shift as he crouched down, screwing his eyes shut and whimpering in anticipation of what might come next.

He wasn't expecting a semi-familiar voice to speak to him gently, calloused and practiced hands undoing the binds on his wrists and ankles.

"Hey kiddo. You remember me, right? Let's getchya more comfortable, ok? You can cry, it's ok kiddo."

Ace looked up in surprise, then relieved sobs escaped him as he reached up to the man, after his binds were undone, that he recognized as one of his dads friends, seeking comfort. While he hated it when dads friends were in his home, any familiar face was a welcome one here. Effortlessly, his tired and trembling body was lifted from the ground and enveloped in a warm hug, a large hand ruffling his hair gently. Soft affirmations were uttered as the man rubbed his back softly, rocking with him side to side in an attempt to calm him down. Ace buried his face into the crook of the mans neck, his arms wrapped weakly around him as he sobbed. The smell of cigarettes and alcohol had never been more comforting. Between hiccup-y sniffles and sobs Ace managed a very strained and exhausted sounding, "I w-wanna go home", as he snuggled into the man more, caring less and less about the circumstances now that someone he knew was holding him; someone who knew where he lived, who could take him home in their big fancy car, and he could go back and just snuggle with mama until everything felt better. He relaxed into the man more, sleep starting to set in as the adrenaline and fear started to fade along with his tears. He somewhat registered the change from room to room as the man stepped down into a noticeably colder area, shutting the door behind him with a slam and making Ace flinch and sit up slightly. The man reached for a switch next to the door, and a dim light flickered to life, illuminating the space.

Ace took in the space as the man stepped down two more stairs. The entire room was made of cement, a crude window with steel bars giving the room the slightest bit more light, and the only real sight of colour as grass poked through. There was a mattress in one corner of the room, slightly discoloured, but still, technically, usable. In one corner, there was a chest of sorts, that appeared to have a lock on it, and beside it were two dog bowls. In the other, there looked to be a pile of slightly rusty chains. The room itself was not very spacious, especially with the twin sized mattress taking up most of the room. Ace noted a camera in the ceiling corner, and found himself clinging to the man a little more, squirming uncomfortably. "You're papa's friend r-right?.....so you're gonna take me home?" He looked up at the man pleadingly, gripping onto his shirt, the fear of being left in the strange room starting to gnaw at him. "Y-you just forgot something in here and have to get it....right?" he felt tears building up again in anxiety as he started to tremble. "....r-right?" Without speaking, the man untangled Ace's hands from his shirt gently, giving him no reason to try and fight him until he realized that both of his little hands were completely engulfed in the man's one. It wasn't until the man moved to set Ace down on the mattress that the tears started to flow again, but the man used his free hand to pat Ace's head. "None of this is your fault kiddo. Y'can blame your old man for this one. He fucked up big time, even got a warning too. So now I'll get what he owes....through you." He chuckled darkly, squeezing Ace's cheeks gently a few times. "And I can't wait for payment to start."

------------------------------

Eleven years.

It took. Eleven years. Before the Reaper seemed to decide that life wasn't going to get any better, so he may as well finally grant him the mercy of death.

Eleven years of torture. Of pain and suffering that wasn't meant for him to bear.

It was just all so unfair. And none of it ever truly made sense to him. Which was why, when the Reaper finally came, and he learned that the transition to death may erase much of his life's memories, he shut them up and told them to proceed. Life was far too painful to remember. Nothing really worth remembering anyways. What had transpired would be enough to keep a new, different form "alive". He had been hesitant at first, but he soon learned just how much better "life" was this way.

For the first time in eleven years, he went outside. He saw other people. He didn't feel hungry, or cold. He couldn't feel pain. He could finally laugh about something.

And while part of him wished he could do more, like feel warmth, or taste something delicious, being able to forget and move on from life was better than any other sort of gift he'd ever been given.

He was free. ------------------------------------------------------------------- A/N: Hiya, if you made it here, you might want to check out my other Twstober works here, or if you're looking for some fluff after that fic, you can check out my main masterlist here. Ask box is open if you have any questions! Thanks for reading! (I promise not all of them are this sad).

[lustlovehart]

Here’s one of the doodles i was talking about in the last post!

I like to imagine after Ace blew up he finally noticed Deuce was sleeping on Reader and immediately focused on that. (Of course, this is just hypothetical, if Reader actually could blow up everyone with their mind there would be no story cause everyone would be DEAD). 

Also updated Gargoyle Malleus wip is here too ig

[doctorsiren]

textured canvases for today :3

[maythearo]

" Welcome back to Night Raven College's 'Ghostly Gossip'! The school's unofficial main online source for the latest news, articles and trending topics circulating around campus! "

" attention attention! we interrupt this broadcast to inform all readers that the ghostly gossip team have at last caught the student responsible for all the (unauthorized) written remarks from previous entries! We sincerely apologize for the inconvenience! (although admittedly, he does not...) "

Navigation:

R. Rosehearts ▪︎ T. Clover ▪︎ C. Diamond ▪︎ A. Trappola ▪︎ D. Spade ▪︎ L. Kingscholar ▪︎ R. Bucchi ▪︎ J. Howl ▪︎ A. Ashengrotto ▪︎ J. Leech ▪︎ F. Leech ▪︎ K. Al Asim ▪︎ J. Viper ▪︎ V. Schoenheit ▪︎ R. Hunt ▪︎ E. Felmier ▪︎ I. Shroud ▪︎ O. Shroud ▪︎ M. Draconia ▪︎ L. Vanrouge ▪︎ S. Zigvolt ▪︎ Silver

Design notes:

This took way longer to post than I expected mainly because of imposter syndrome and constantly thinking I could do more for his entry but, I'll keep this as Ace's main style anyway. It's pretty simple compared to previous designs, but to be fair, devil Ace's personality and shenanigans would stand out enough to compensate for that matter LOL

As I said on Deuce's post, I wanted to connect their designs in some aspects, so yeah! Complementary color pallettes! That's why they both have few shades that stand out of their main monochrome colors, Deuce is blues and greens, while Ace stays around red and oranges!

Fashion-wise now, I initially pictured him pulling a lot more references from 80s men fashion, but ig by the end I accidentally strayed away from that and somehow incorporated a more "modern" influence to it? Man I'm very bad at describing the creative process and vibes of my designs but what else is new 😭😭 ANYWAYS, off topic but I should mention that, as you can see I'll throw in a high heel in any characters that give me the opportunity to do so, this one especially, I had Cleo's "dawn of the dance" heels in the back of my mind while designing, ( I forgot to include in the image above again 😔) which fun fact, was my first Monster High doll I got as a kid, so-!!! That's a shoe style that I'm very fond of KWDNWKSNSK

LORE DUMP TIME, ok so given each characters unique scare-itage, the way the cast interact with each other and build relationships could somehow differ from how they interact in og twisted wonderland! For example, since MH!Ace is THE devil from THE bible (/ref) he probably shares a common background, or have met Vil and Idia before they enrolled in MH!NRC together! That's such a funny thing to think about for me. Who would have thought they'd ever be a trio of great childhood friends?

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Hi! Recently I became curious about how ancient people hunted in the world of TwistedWonderland.🧔🏹🦣

If they didn't have magic in Monster Au, they used their wits and ingenuity. Animal hunting and fishing🦣 🏹 🐟. Pits, a stone maze so for catching fish and cattle.

You can see the reaction to the methods and techniques of trapping characters.

Don't mind me trying to work my way into a good groove and answering asks in my inbox 😅

It’s simply amazing what human ingenuity can do to get a task done, especially when it comes to surviving out in nature! Throw these craft humans into a world of monsters and magic, and you pretty much have what most epics and legends in our world describe mythical creatures and feats of strength. 😆

Once Yuu arrives in Twisted Monsterland, they may start seeing old paintings depicting clashes between humans and monsters. Ranging from spears and swords mistakenly melding into flesh like malformed limbs and claws to wearing leather and gleaming silver armor mistaken as insectoid carapaces, it’s no wonder humans were used in stories to scare little children into being good. These ancient humans looked positively monstrous—perhaps even more so than any monster in existence. Perhaps that is why so many were both terrified and confused as to why this scrunkly of a creature calling itself a human didn’t even match the few surviving paintings from a bygone era.

Pair that with the stories told on how ancient humans would hunt for food or built traps to capture monsters and comparing that to how Yuu looks? It’s easy for the monsters to brush off these abilities of magicless humans as being anything more than just mere fantasy or exaggeration. There’s simply no way a human can build traps and webs like spider monsters, create fire that lasts for days without smoke, or chase their prey for days on end without breaking a sweat!

Turns out, those myths are more true than the monsters realize. Especially if their resident human just so happens to have survivalist training under their belt…

///Camp Vargas///

“Uh…why are you digging a hole in the ground?”

“Making a fire pit.”

Ace glanced at Yuu as they continued to shovel more dirt out of a relatively large hole. “So…if you’re building a pit, then why did you make a smaller hole right here?” he asked, pointing at said opening in the dirt. “And if you’re building a fire, why aren’t you making one above ground? Are you trying to bury it or something?”

The shovel broke the last of the dirt wall between the holes before Yuu straightened up, gathering several long branches they’d collected with several large cuts of logs and starting to set them up at an angle. “Oh, I’m still building one above ground. I’m just making two different ones.” Pointing at the hole they’d just dug out, they said, “We call this one a ‘Dakota Fire Hole’. Typically this one is used for outdoor cooking, since it produces little smoke and doesn’t need a lot of fuel.” Setting some sticks and tinder inside the larger of the two holes, the took a piece of flint and began striking it with a stone. Soon a small yet hot fire was blazing inside the hole, just barely licking the air outside of the hole before settling down into a steady flicker. “The second hole generates airflow, which keeps the fire fueled with oxygen so it’ll burn longer.”

“Then what’s the other one for?”

“A self-feeding campfire.” They began loading chopped logs on both sides of the now V-shaped structure they’d built. “It uses gravity to drop new logs to keep the fire going, which means it’ll last all night. Pretty handy so you don’t have to keep getting up to replenish the log pile!”

One ear lowering in confusion, Ace stared at Yuu as they struck up another inferno on the bottom log. Somehow the fire didn’t crawl or spread to the rest of the logs. “…how exactly did you learn this?” he finally asked.

“Survivalist training. Why do you ask?”

Snap! Twang! “Fynaaah!?” Fwoosh!

“Uh oh. Grim! I told you to stay away from there! That’s where I set up the snare trap.”

“Why did you set it up so close to the tent?!” the chimera yowled as students stared in shock and surprise.

“To keep away intruders.” A sudden cacophony of clattering and clanging rang out, followed by a startled mix of a canine yelp and deer-like squeal before a thud hit the ground. “Epel! Are you okay?!”

“What is this?!” the einfield snarled, twisting and trying to untangle himself from the string of empty cans and bells. “Git it offa me!”

“Hold still, or you’ll strangle your wings! Ace, could you get Grim down for me? The snare hook is on the ground behind the tree on the tent’s left side.”

As Yuu went to free Epel from the new contraption—which Ace heard them comment was their ‘alarm system’—he shook his head in confusion and disbelief. What was even happening? Did Yuu pick up some strange trick from one of the spider monster students when he wasn’t looking? “I’m not taking another step until you tell me what other traps you set up,” he finally called out, warily looking around for more strings and rope near his large rabbit feet. “I don’t want to get tangled up in anything like those two did!”

“Oh don’t worry, I didn’t have time to set up any other snares or alarms yet,” Yuu called out, carefully freeing Epel’s arm before working on freeing the rest of his body. “You’re safe, so long as you-”

Shoof! “WAH!?!” a familiar loud voice screamed, the sound echoing so far that it reverberated through the trees. WHUD!! “Urk…HUMAN!!! What foul trickery is this?!?”

“…oh, right. I forgot about the pit trap I dug earlier,” Yuu said as multiple eyes stared at them.

“Why in Twisted Wonderland would you need to build something like that?!” Riddle all but shouted once it sank in what just happened.

“Hey, if a bear comes rampaging around the camp because you guys aren’t putting your food away, don’t come crying to me if there’s no pit trap to keep it busy!”

Needless to say, after everyone was rescued, no one could fathom how Yuu learned such archaic—if frighteningly deceptive—trapping methods for a camping trip. It wasn’t until the last night of Camp Vargas that they understood why when the remaining students used the trap to buy themselves some time from the “beast” before running to the swamp.

/-------------/

Now of course the defensive traps were pretty impressive, Ruggie had to admit that much. But traps that catch fish with little to no effort? Even he was impressed by the speed at which Yuu was able to harvest so many fish in one sitting, and with a simple stick and twine “fence”? Let alone the basketful of fish they’d caught by hand after making a shady spot with a tarp propped over the water!

“Sure, I could use a fishing rod if I wanted,” Yuu commented as they continued whittling away at the tip of a sturdy branch. “A net would also come in handy, but since we’re going to be here for a short time, I wouldn’t be able to make a decent one to use it effectively.” Jabbing their carving knife over at the fire pits they had dug earlier, they added, “Besides, if I don’t adapt and use what I have available, then I can lose out on a good food source and my chances of survival are slim to none.”

“Huh. Yeah, that makes sense,” he agreed, the leucrocuta looking between his catch and Yuu’s. The human’s collection was quickly catching up to Floyd’s, which was surprising since he’d stopped earlier due to boredom. “This came from that survival training thing you mentioned earlier, right?”

“Mm-hm! I can teach you a few things I learned if you want.”

“Shehehehe~! Sounds great! Just one question though: what’cha making? Some kind of walking stick?”

“Oh, this? It’s going to be a spear.”

“…spear?” The word sounded vaguely familiar, though he couldn’t quite place why as he tried to examine it. It didn’t look like anything he’d seen any other monster use or make before. “What’s it for?”

“It’s used for different things, like defense or attacking.” Cutting a few more chips off, Yuu stood up and examined their work. They had whittled one end of the branch to the point it was needle-sharp, a sight that weirdly sent chills down his spine when he looked at it. “I made this one specifically to go spear fishing. Here, I’ll show you!”

As they walked into the water, he expected the human to immediately strike into the water like they had when they did the shadow fishing. However, they simply stood still, eyes locked onto the water’s surface with the spear raised over their shoulder. He watched in silence, instinctively knowing that Yuu was hunting for their prey yet not understanding how this would work. Suddenly, they tensed, their shoulders tightening as they raised their spear higher in a smooth motion. For the briefest moment, he swore he saw the human with the needle-sharp arm in his history book instead of Yuu, his heart leaping in his throat at the vivid imagery. Before he could react, the spear was sent flying forward-

Splosh!

And struck the riverbed, Yuu immediately rushing forward to grab the upright tool before pulling it out. To his shock and utter amazement, the spear had pierced the body of a large trout, still flopping even as Yuu carried it back to shore with a triumphant grin on their face. Their smile faded to one of concern as they asked, “You okay, Ruggie? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Chuckling nervously, Ruggie uttered, “Uh…you could say that.” A ghost of the past maybe, he thought as he picked up the baskets. “Hey, uh, why don’t we go ahead and cook these? I think we’ve got enough!”

“Oh. Sure, sounds good. Oh! I know a few tricks to preserve the meat for later!”

“Great! Just…do me a favor and not point that spear thing at anyone, okay?”

////////

I’m pretty sure there’s a lot more that could be said or done, but you get the picture. XD Hope you all enjoy!

[the-cat-ara]

What would happen if clover got turn into a monster?

How would Ceroba starlos martlet dalv and the feisty five react to it ?

Like say of clover was a dog like a border collie or a fox monster like Ceroba.

Or idk a birdd monster like Martlet or star monster like starlos.

Congratulations, your human has evolved into a monster!!

I feel like it would be a surprise to the Feistyj Four (the "J" is silent), but it wouldn't change much, instead, Starlo would be somewhat confused. This would be something he didn't see in his human movies and magazines. He would probably be glued to Clover asking him if there are more things about humans that he didn't know. On the other hand, Ceroba would be somewhat disturbed by how strange it would be for the little guy to just change to being a monster out of nowhere. Perhaps she would even come to question the same thing Starlo did.

On Martlet's part, I don't think she'd catch on that quickly because of how distracted she can be at times. Although she would be confused, she no longer knows whether or not Clover was a monster from the beginning XD

Dalv doesn't seem to care much, he seems to simply accept that it's a human thing that he wouldn't understand. Still, he's glad to have Clover as a friend.

As a bonus, there are these two doodles.

As such, I haven't really thought through a fact as to why the little guy would turn into a monster. I got to thinking that maybe it's from eating non-human food, but that wouldn't make sense…. I think¿¿ XD

To conclude, I took inspiration from a horned lizard to create Clover's monster form. I also took Starlo as a base. I wanted the boy to have certain resemblances to his father, but not be of the same species, so I simply made him a lizard who, when using his power of justice, can glow slightly. Oh, and this is what his soul would look like.

I hope the design is to your liking. I also apologize for taking so long, drawing this took me longer than I expected.

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Lion's Pride [Part 3]

Gender Neutral Reader x Leona Kingscholar Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: Your new job as a Full Time Royal Therapist does not pay nearly as well as you'd like. Or, Leona is more of a problem child than he would ever admit, but you're surprisingly okay at dealing with that.

[PART 1][PART 2] [PART 3]

Sometimes you felt like you hardly knew what it meant to be a functional person, living a comfortable life on the fringes of society. So in comparison, trying to think of what it meant to be an actual prince, ruling over all of said society was something you literally could not comprehend no matter how hard you tried to wrap your head around it.  

“If you’re a Prince, what were you doing in a hole?” you asked, because you had far too many questions and concerns, and this one at least seemed easy enough to address. And also because you were genuinely pretty curious.  

The newly dubbed ‘Leona’ twitched against your back and you felt the low rumble of his snarl work its way from the depths of his gut all the way up through his chest and out his mouth.

“Holy shit,” Ace wheezed. “Screw this. I’m getting out of here before I wind up implicated as an accessory in your murder.”

And so your trusty friend abandoned you to the wolves lions?—darting away so quickly he always forget his bag, shoes, and everything else in the process.

You waved after him as he departed, knowing full well that he’d wind up stumbling back within the week, maybe two at most. He always did, no matter how much he complained about your Present Company. Plain old ‘murder’ was actually one of his more polite accusations. When he’d run into your Hunter friend the first time, Ace had gone on a wildly incoherent rant about how he was going to find your corpse strung up in a tree like some weird, ritual, sacrifice. And then that had devolved into something-something cannibalism or other. The visiting Hunter had just thrown his head back and laughed, positively enamored with the grisliness of it all. Ace had vanished for almost an entire month after that encounter, but he did come back—glaring up at you with a miserable pout like you were the one who’d gone and fucked off for thirty whole days.

Leona snorted and you felt the puff of breath against the back of your neck.

“Coward,” he grumbled, though he didn’t sound particularly displeased about your friend’s sudden departure.

“Fear lets us be brave,” you responded, wise as a sage. Or maybe an old frog in a puddle.

“Yeah?” he intoned, rolling his eyes. “And when’s that little rat ever been brave?”

“There’s always tomorrow,” you chirped, and that snort turned into something dangerously close to a chuckle. Which—gasp!—how dare such a pleasant sound fall from the lips of someone so obstinately determined to be otherwise! You grinned at the low tones of it, only for the snickering to cut off sharply in his throat once he’d realized what he was doing. And then of course he shoved you forward and out of his lap with a great amount of indignant snarling.

You laid there for a few minutes—face down in the sun-warmed grass and laughing quietly about just how ridiculous this stupid Lion was, before finally sitting up with a pleasant stretch. He could put on airs all he liked, you knew there was kernel of something far less angsty and murderous buried at the heart of him.

“So,” you hummed, lazily making your way back to your feet. “What exactly have I done to draw the realm’s Prince to my doorstep?” You squinted at him suspiciously. “You’re not here about the fairy gate thing, are you? Because that was actually an accident.”

“The what?” he frowned, brow pinched in confusion.

You waved him off. “Ah, nothing, nothing.”

Something in his jaw twitched, like now he was going to push the subject out of principle of you being shifty. But he just sighed and brought a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose.

“I need your help,” he said finally. Just as crabby as the first time he’d asked, if perhaps just a touch less imperious.

You arched a brow. “I think you’ve mentioned that already, yes.”

Silence.

The Lion stared you down with a slowly deepening scowl, and you stared back with a smile as placid and unmoved as the shallow pond you’d nearly drowned Ace in not an hour before.  

“If I apologize, you’ll help me?” he asked after a long moment, the question turning sharp at the end on a bitten of growl.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” you hummed back and he crossed his arms stubbornly over his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he said, with all the pleasantry of someone undergoing a root canal. And all the sincerity of Ace swearing that this was the last time he’d get caught evading the tax man, promise.

You sighed, feeling a bit cheated. But you hadn’t really stipulated anything beyond those two little words leaving his mouth, so if anything, that was on you.

“Alright,” you huffed. “What is it you need help with?”

The Lion glared at you suspiciously for a long moment—glowing eyes narrowed into slits and tail twitching back and forth like he was swatting flies. Finally, he sighed and lifted his hands out in front of him with a pointed flex.  

“It’s not supposed to be like this,” he frowned sourly, wrists twisting to display the pointed claws tipping his fingers. “I’m not supposed to get stuck in between.”

Your eyes traced the fluffy tufts of his round ears, the black-tipped tail swishing irritably at his hind, and allowed yourself a melancholy sort of huff.

“But you look good like this,” you pointed out sadly. Because he really, truly, did. Leona without his squishy lion ears would just be… grumpy. Miserable, and angular, and angry. Nothing soft worth coddling at all.

“That’s not the point!” he snapped, baring his overlarge canines at you. There was a darker cast along his cheekbones that seemed to be making a valiant effort to crawl all the way up into his fringe. “And don’t fucking say that!”

You frowned. One second this stupid dick wanted to be praised to the Heavens and back! Practically swanning about, demanding you bow down and acknowledge his blatant superiority. But, oh no. Apparently your meager half-sentence masquerading as a compliment was too much for his delicate, princely, sensibilities.

“Fine,” you griped. “You’re ugly.”

He growled—low and rumbling—and if he was anymore of a cat you’d say you could see his hackles raising in indignation. But before he could launch into another vicious, verbal, evisceration of your person, you cleared your throat loudly in an attempt to get him back on track.   

“What do you mean by ‘stuck in between?’”

He sneered down at you testily for a moment before reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose again and letting out a put-upon sort of sigh that was not at all indicative of the fact that he was the one asking you for help.

“The Shift. When you found me in that pit, I should have been able to Shift between that form and this one without issue,” he frowned, brow tugging down tight with something a bit more disquieted than his usual, flat, annoyance. “The iron was a problem, but once I was out of the trap, it should have been fine. I’ve dealt with cursed snares like this before, and the effects have never lingered as long as this one has.”

You blinked owlishly. That did sound… fairly unpleasant. And honestly, if you were in his position you’d also be at least a little concerned that something else was at play. But, still, all that being said—

“I’m sorry,” you frowned, more or less genuine. Perhaps leaning a bit harder into less.“But I don’t understand how that has anything to do with me.”

“You were down there with me,” he argued. “You dismantled the trap.”

Uh, yeah. By messing with bits that looked breakable until they broke. Not exactly a high-level intellectual pursuit.

You didn’t say that, of course. Because after a few days watching you scuttle about your homestead like a particularly vocal lizard in the dirt, you were sure he already thought you were stupid enough without you outright admitting to it. Nevertheless, the Lion observed your zip-lipped silence with an ever-deepening scowl.

“You took it apart,” he tried again, nearly a growl.

“Yes,” you said with a nod.

“You know how you did it,” he continued, firm. At your lack of affirmative, he pushed again. “You know. I watched you do it!”

You raised your hand nervously and made a little so-so tilting motion.

Anyone less refined would no doubt have had their head in their hands at this point, but Leona just curled his lip at you and looked like he was fighting valiantly not to put your own very silly head through a wall.

“It was charmed,” he spat. “Bound up with talismans, and cursed down to its very moldings. That isn’t something any random farmer could walk up and break.”

“Oh,” you blinked, taken aback, and struggled to recall if there had been anything so obviously enchanted about the trap you’d fiddled into bits. “Was it?”

And head had officially met hands. He ground his clawed fingers into his temples like you were a headache that with enough determination and massaging he may somehow be able to will away.

“Couldn’t you go just home if this is such a big problem?” you asked, still genuinely baffled at it all. “Get help from your family? I mean, you’re a Prin—”

“No,” he interrupted, emerald eyes gone glacier cold.

You frowned, as unimpressed by his prickliness as you usually were. But something in you was hesitant to prod at whatever it was that had managed to tug a feral rage so tightly across his face—like drawing a shade over a window until the entire home was cloaked in shadow, or slipping away behind a carved mask too heavy to ever wear comfortably. It was an expression so sharp and so bitter that if you hadn’t only just yesterday watched this stubborn man lounge about in the sun as your chickens hopped all over him like he was the world’s most carnivorous jungle gym, you wouldn’t ever have known that they could be the same person at all. 

“Alright,” you shrugged, and some of that angry, hunched, defensiveness eased into confusion.

“Hah?” he frowned.

“Alright,” you said again. “We’ll figure it out here.” He glared over at you balefully, and you waved off the obvious retort on the tip of his tongue about something-something-you have no idea what you’re doing-something-something-dangerous risks and lifelong consequences-blablabla. “I have a friend who would know a lot more about those kinds of traps and talismans that I do. He could help, probably.”

“Probably?” he scoffed. Though when he rolled his eyes, they weren’t quite so hate filled—lids hooded with a familiar, begrudging sort of irritation rather than outright malice.

“He’s a bit of an enigma,” you explained—wiggling your fingers in a little, sparkly, dance to emphasize the, well, enigmatic part.

Another huff. But amidst that grumpy bellyaching, you watched those fluffy ears of his slowly perk back up atop his head, and his tail swish leisurely behind him. The Lion certainly didn’t look happy (but did he ever? So was that really a fair comparison?), but he definitely seemed like he’d thawed into something less ‘frigid dead of winter’ and more ‘unpleasantly nippy spring morning.’

“Weirder than you, herbivore?” he sniffed, looking down his nose at you and crossing his arms loosely over his chest. “I find that hard to believe.”

Normally you would too. But, well…

“He’s charming,” you chirped pleasantly, and Leona’s face twisted up like you’d served him a bowl of rancid yogurt.

.

.

That night you composed a letter to your dearest Hunter friend. You thanked him for bringing you the White Moor Stag, elaborated a bit on the new marinade you’d been experimenting with, and then ended the whole thing with a polite plea for his aid in deconstructing the mechanisms of a magical trap you’d encountered. You bribed one of your two carrier pigeons with some snacks and watched it fly off into the unknown with a little, cream-colored envelope tied to its foot. Message talismans were much simpler and far more convenient, but the Hunter always seemed to appreciate the personal touch of postal birds.

Leona glared at you from the window, and made some dramatic swipe at your pigeon like he meant to knock it out of the air. The poor bird tottered about like an overfilled water balloon—jiggling and wriggling in its roundness before eventually righting itself and continuing on into the sky with a warbled coo coo.

“Don’t be rude,” you huffed at him.

“I can’t believe you still won’t let me in,” he sneered from beneath the fluff of that blanket you’d gifted him. “I apologized.”

“Yes, but you actually have to mean it,” you explained, not unkindly, as he prowled just beyond the glass. “But we’re making progress!” you beamed. “That’s something! Maybe you’ll make it in here within the next five years, hmm?”

“Or I could just wipe out the entirety of your ridiculous dirt farm now,” he threatened, a bit of that sandy magic swirling sinisterly along his fingers.

“You certainly could, your highness,” you agreed easily. His lip curled unpleasantly, but that glowing, gritty, arcana faded away and he didn’t move from where he’d tucked himself up under the duvet.

After another solid fifteen minutes of his pissy glowering and barbed insults, you pointedly unclipped the ties on your curtains and let them fall shut so that his ridiculous pouting was hidden away behind the thin, cotton, mess of poorly stitched flowers and herbs.

(You did leave a nice dinner plate on the ledge before that, with extra portions of meat and a neatly frosted cookie for dessert. Because as much as your day had been a bit rough, you had a feeling his melancholy extended far beyond being left out in the dark for another evening.)

.

.

The next morning, your doddering pigeon returned with an elegantly bound scroll—all embellished with golden filagree and tied up in a neat, crimson, bow.

“Why does this freak call you ‘mon cher ami,’” Leona sniffed, tongue curling awkwardly over the unfamiliar words.

You sighed and debated snatching the letter back, but all that would probably culminate in was the paper in tatters and a smug beastman lording his superior letter-wrangling skills over your head like a trophy.

“It’s just one of his little ticks,” you explained with a shrug. “I told you—he’s charming.”

“Ah, yes,” Leona drawled, tracing a claw along the parchment’s edge with a soft shhhhhft. A raised, white, line cut across the paper’s surface like the beginnings of a wound. “Waxing poetic nonsense in a foreign language. Rambling on about all kinds of useless fucking garbage. Charming.”

“You,” you snipped, reaching out to smack at his tightening grip before he could rend the poor correspondence to bits, “are not one to talk about ‘charming.’”

“Oh?” he scoffed. He maneuvered around your tutting to hold the letter over your head. Typical. When you leaned forward to try and wrangle it back, Leona leaned in closer—eyes going hooded and lips curling into a smug little smirk that promised all sorts of trouble. “Haven’t had any complaints about that before. Who’d be saying otherwise?”

“The person you left stranded at the bottom of a pit, you inglorious oaf,” you griped. His ears immediately swiveled to pin flat against the top of his head, and you used the distraction of his indignation to finally snatch back your prize. “Besides,” you huffed, straightening out some of the new wrinkles. “Not very Prince-like, is it? A real prince would have swept in to save the idiot in distress. Sword drawn, banners flying,” you sighed, a bit too besotted with your own imaginings. “Why did you have to be such a dick, huh? Ruined my fantasies for the rest of my life.”

“And what?” Leona snapped. “Some rogue bastard sending you cursive garbage does it for you?”

“Better than being left for dead in a hole after saving their life,” you smiled—perfectly, poisonously, pleasant.

Leona rumbled something indiscernible under his breath and turned to glare petulantly off across your garden.

“Besides,” you hummed, looking over the letter. “There’s more important things. Like this—right here. Do you know what a self-bored stone is? He’s thinking maybe there was a process like that with the iron shackles. Or maybe something to do with seeping the components in herbs… Hmm…”

“Whatever,” Leona scoffed. “I’ll try whatever it takes to fix this shit.”

You clapped him amiably on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit, tête de noeud!”

“The fuck did you just call me?!”

“Poetic nonsense,” you chirped, and Leona looked half ready to drop you back into the hole where he’d found you.

.

.

The first attempt to aid the Lion Prince in his conundrum didn’t go particularly well.

You’d tried to work off of the whole ‘overlap with a self-bored stone’ theory, but all that really amounted to was you gesturing like an over-serious crossing guard for him to walk under every low hanging branch, every arch, beneath the stunted beams of the chicken coop. You dangled rocks from strings and waved around your little creations like slightly more dangerous pompoms.

Penelope clucked irritably when one of the pebbles fell with a plunk into her nest, and Leona frowned up at you from where the wayward chicken had firmly situated herself in his lap.

“How was any of that supposed to help?”

You drew a blank and promised to try something new tomorrow.

The next day you tried herbs. The Hunter had listed off quite a few that were known to cause lingering issues with magical creatures, and you harvested the lot of them from your garden with ease. You held them up to Leona’s face one by one, brow furrowed in concentration, as you waited for… something.

“How is this any better than the rocks?” he complained.

You pushed the bright, butter-yellow, blossoms of some Saint John’s Wort under his nose until he sneezed and shoved you away with a slew of indignant threats to your person.

The following few days were spent perusing your meager library. You carted every book you owned on magic, and binding rituals, and rune smithing out into the yard. Leona looked over at the slowly growing pile of tomes with a truly unimpressed scowl.

“You could have just invited me inside,” he griped, rolling his eyes. He was splayed out in the grass at your side, his head tossed lazily across your lap after he’d complained that he needed at least some leverage to see what you were trying to read.

“Nice try,” you hummed, reaching for your page of hastily scribbled notes. “But you’re not getting off without a genuine apology that easy.”

A week passed in this fashion, with you attempting to string together more and more ludicrous ideas—throwing everything you had at the wall and hoping something, anything, would stick. But Leona’s ears stayed tufted and round. That tail seemed to only grow more twitchy, his claws longer and sharper.

You sent the Hunter another letter and waited anxiously for a reply. When it arrived the next morning, Leona snatched it from your pigeon before you’d even made it out your front door. It was a miserable sort of day—pouring rain and with nothing but the grey cloud cover overhead to color the world.

He read it over once, twice, before dropping it to the ground. You could see the tendons twitching along his jaw, could practically hear his molars grinding in his frustration.

You plucked the note from the grass and looked it over carefully.  

‘Mon ami, while I am loathe to address this, perhaps it is not the make of this trap at all that is causing such a vexation? Is there any chance that rather than this being a lingering malady, that this friend of yours was simply unable to overcome the initial curse in the first place?’

You glanced back up at Leona, who was intermittently clenching his fists at his sides. You could see the harsh indentations from where his claws were digging into the skin of his palms.

‘Sometimes such things just happen, je crains. The flesh may be willing, but often the spirit is weak. You mentioned this Roi du Leon has a powerful family he may turn to for assistance. Certainly one of them may be strong enough to overcome this curse for him, even if he perhaps is not.’

“Of course it’s all because I’m a fuck up,” Leona snarled. Some of that spitting, sandy, magic of his seeped into the air. It bit at the rain like an overeager dog. You could see it dancing along his skin—fighting to pull his features one way or another.

“He didn’t say that,” you pointed out gently. “And even if you were, there’s nothing wrong with needing help sometimes. Your family—"

“—Would rather I keeled over dead and stopped sullying my brother’s perfect fucking reputation!” he snapped. “Heir to the King’s Roar,” he scoffed. “Stupid. I was never going to be a king to begin with. And even if I had been born first, they would have deposed me to put their flawless, favorite, golden boy on the throne anyways.”

That... That was a lot. You stared at the pacing Lion with wide eyes—unsure how to help, unsure if any attempts to do so would only make this worse. This was—this was so above your ‘happy, homey, hermit’ paygrade.

“Of course this is all because of me,” he hissed, that roiling, angry, arcana coiling around him like curdled milk. The pupils in his eyes flickered oddly from round to thin-cut, hard, lines. Beastly. “Of course it was because I wasn’t good enough.”

“Leona,” you tried, as gentle as you could be.

The Prince threw his head back and laughed. And laughed, and laughed.

“I should have known!” he cackled, borderline hysterical. “I should have fucking known!”

“Leona—” you tried again, reaching out a hand.

Only to be immediately knocked on your ass by an explosion of magic.

You’d heard of self-destruction—of implosion. The arcane wonders of the world were a wily and unyielding mistress. While creatures like Leona who were so naturally steeped in ancient magics and sorcery could control that beast more adeptly than some little mortal like you, it didn’t make them any less susceptible to its dangers. If anything, they had it worse. It was like sitting in a shallow stream versus wading out into a roaring ocean. So much more opportunity, such a higher aptitude for greatness, but far too easy to drown beneath the churning tides of it all.

The inky, geometric, swirls along his arms pulsed like a heartbeat. They crawled along his skin and traced black patterns into his veins. Even you could feel the horrible, dark, stickiness of it—as the magic ate him alive. His face twisted back and forth between human and animal, and you watched him contort and snarl under the weight of it before turning on you with a vicious roar.

Uh oh.

The first wave of magic seared the ground, leaving nothing but strange, grey, sand in its wake. The more he snapped and clawed wildly at anything and everything, the more that dusty desert spread. You managed to hop out of the way of most of it—sparing a single, sad, thought for all the poor plants you’d worked so hard to cultivate dying a miserable, grainy, death.

The next arc of magic shot straight from his clawed fingers, and it managed to catch the flesh of your forearm. It was sharper than any dagger or sword that you’d ever had the pleasure of accidentally nicking yourself with, and it tore its way down your arm like a raging beast, leaving an eerie, tacky, bubbling mess in its wake. And ouch did it hurt—like someone was taking a fistful of coarse sand and rubbing it into the open wound. You ground your teeth against the strange, gnawing, sensation and hastily wrapped a bit of torn fabric around the weeping gash to keep it a bit more contained. You waited for the worst of it to pass, for that initial bite to fade into a more manageable throb. But it didn’t. It just got sharper and tighter, hotter and hotter. For a moment it felt like your skin was crackling—like firewood popping and splitting beneath the weight of a blaze. From across the field, Leona made a noise like a hurricane given voice, and you bit back a groan.

‘Oh come on,’ you hissed to yourself. ‘Not now, please.’  

And while you’d been mostly referring to the Lion losing another brick of his sanity fort, your wound seemed to pulse at the command—a sensation not unlike the soft drone of the wards carved deep into the support beams of your dilapidated home, and an impression of words tingling along your nerves without any real shape or form. ‘Alright. Later then.’ Like a breath of wind along your fingertips. That pulsing doubled back, and the wrap you’d hurriedly tied around your forearm hummed low with gentle arcana.   

And then the cracking stopped. Just like that. Like it’d given up on eating you alive and decided to head home early for the day.

Huh, you though a bit dazedly, before hurriedly ducking out of the way of another swipe.

You clutched your still smarting but at least now functional arm to your chest, and Leona turned on you and your ethereal booboo with a raging snarl. But then that glowing glare caught on the blood trailing down towards your wrist in too dark, too thick, rivulets and his eyes went wide. It wasn’t much, but the strange bought of shock rocketing through him gave you a handful of seconds of ceasefire. You reached into your pocket with your uninjured hand and pulled out a thick bit of cardstock. This was supposed to be for emergencies, goddamn it! And you’d spent so much money on this stupid little thing! And—

You shook off the mildly delusional complaints bogging down your brain and unfolded the paper between your fingers. The sigils inked into it hummed against your skin, and the rain sluffed off its face like the cold and the damp were no bother at all.

“Fucking—” you flung the talisman at your ridiculous, rampaging, guest. It fluttered like the beat of a hawk’s wings and dove towards him with just as much vicious precision. “GO TO SLEEP!”

The enchantment smacked into his face with an echoing THUNK and you watched those too-bright eyes of his roll up into his head as he collapsed to the ground in a heap.

With the main source of all the Magical Warfare knocked unconscious, most of the miasma began to disperse—like dust caught up in a gale. The rain washed away the rest. It slid into the mud and seeped back into the earth. The plants and animals seemed to give a collective sigh, and some of your more courageous chickens even started to venture in close to peck at the leftover destruction.

You approached the felled Prince hesitantly. The talisman had been meant for subduing an enemy with a more human constitution, so you doubted it would keep him down for very long.

“Hey,” you grouched, poking his side. He twitched a bit but didn’t move otherwise. “Hey, asshole,” you tried again. Still, nothing. Uh oh.

You reached down to wedge an arm under him and hoist him upright. The singed skin of your forearm brushed along his jaw as you attempted to maneuver his bulk, and his nose twitched sharply at whatever scent was trapped in the dark, cracking, gash there. His brow scrunched up like you’d just doused him in spoiled milk, so naturally you went about waving your wounded flesh beneath his nostrils like the world’s strangest smelling salts.

After a moment he blinked back awake, face twisted up into the most properly disgruntled mien of distaste that you’d ever seen on a person who’d only just barely managed to claw their way back into the world of the living.

“Herbivore,” he rumbled, still looking more than a bit dazed.

Good enough.

You manhandled him back onto his feet as best you could—turning yourself into an impromptu crutch to try and get him mobile again. The sand shifted and sank beneath your heels, making dragging his ridiculous, dramatic, ass even more of a challenge. As you hauled him towards your cottage, you complained to him in earnest. Every little irritation under the sun. Half because you’d probably never have another opportunity to bitch at him so thoroughly without getting your own earful of grievances in return, half to keep him conscious—keep him focused on staying here. With you. And not… Wherever it was he’d gone in those moments of delirium.  

“I still don’t get why you call me that,” you griped, readjusting your grip on him when he’d started to slide down to the point his nose had buried itself against your collarbone. “Herbivore. I’ve cooked so much meat for you since you decided to crash here. Talked about how I prepare it, and the flavors I experiment with—I literally gave you some from my own sandwich when we first met! That I ate the rest of! In front of you!—”

When you finally herded him over the threshold and into your little cottage, the wards and their protection slipped around him like the soft current of a stream. You hardly even noticed the way the old magics ruffled his hair—and that was only because you were actively looking, half convinced the house was still about to toss up an invisible barrier and send him sprawling back into the dirt.

Leona wobbled on his feet, and his eyes were still too far away and grey.

You grabbed him by the ear and maneuvered his too-tall self into one of your rickety kitchen chairs. The wood groaned under the sudden press of his dead weight, but it didn’t collapse beneath him so it wasn’t worth fussing over. Once you were certain he wasn’t about to fold over sideways and crumple to the ground (or at least, that he was angled enough over a rug that he wasn’t going to crack his head on the stone floor), you rushed off to your bookcases and shelves and began hurriedly rumaging through your collection of nonsense.

The charms, the charms. Where were your emergency charms?! You’d thought you left them right there on the—Ah! There we go.

You pulled the raggedy binder from its place on the shelf, blew away the coating of dust that had settled over the top of it, and returned to your patient.

You flipped open the worn leather hooks and began sorting through the dozens upon dozens of sheets of enchanted parchment within. They were unimpressive—just small, rectangular, bits of faded paper inlaid with the softest kinds of magic. Not meant for much more than coaxing warmth into chilly limbs or placing a soft kiss over a scraped knee. But medicines were medicines—whether arcane in origin or otherwise. If you—if you just doused him in the things, that would probably work. Right? Of course it would. That made perfect sense.

So you slapped the first talisman square in the middle of his forehead. Leona swayed at the wet SMACK of the paper gluing itself to his soaked-through skin, but aside from the faintest, startled, widening of his eyes, he didn’t do anything else to complain. So you stuck the next charm to his cheek, and then another on the opposite one too.

“Magic overuse is dangerous,” you chastised as you went about layering a veritable novel’s worth of pasty, paper, enchantments up his arms. The soft spells worked their way into his skin, and you watched those twisting, black, shapes skitter back up towards where they’d once sat peacefully curled around his bicep. “Are you trying to kill yourself, hah?!”

Instead of snapping back at you like normal, he just sort of… sat there. Accepting your angry accusations in frosty silence. He absolutely looked like a cat that you’d fished out of a bag in the river. Pathetic, and sad, and droopy. And… quiet. So, very, quiet. You frowned, because as much as you didn’t particularly enjoy being insulted every minute of the day, the Lion’s biting little remarks had become… familiar, at the very least. Even if they weren’t entirely pleasant. Even if he was far from pleasant.

The dampness on his skin was starting to curl the edges of your talismans, and you reached forward with a huff to at least pull the freezing, soaked-through, vest off his shoulders. The leather jacket landed with a wet plap on the stone floor, a cold puddle already pooling around all its stupidly intricate, embroidered, edges. Something fluttered out of one of the open pockets—small, and off white, and crinkled. You stepped over the whole mess to retrieve a pile of towels and didn’t give it a second thought.

“Make a mess of my home, why don’t you,” you complained, dropping one of the towels over the entirety of his head before reaching forward to start drying him off with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. “Drip all over the floors I just mopped, why don’t you. Be emotionally constipated and almost turn my whole yard into a sand pit, why don’t you—”

A hand reached out to snag your wrist, and you let him pull you away from your attempts to rub all that stupidly thick hair straight off his head.

From beneath the curtain of the cotton towel, you could see Leona glaring at the long, dark, scratch curling along your forearm. It certainly wasn’t… nice to look at. The gymnastics of getting him into your cottage had managed to displace the impromptu bandage, so the whole of it was just there. Bruised, and dark, and odd looking. But ugly or not, it was hardly bleeding or anything anymore! And he was the one who had almost just self-destructed in your front yard!

‘Think of the accusations!’ you wanted to wail. ‘Can you imagine the garbage I would have to deal with if I wound up with a dead royal fertilizing my garden?! No thank you!’

But before you could complain about his fussing, his claws flexed against the soft skin of your palm and you saw the muscles along his forearm tense—like he was fighting to keep still.

“You should be dead,” he muttered, terse.

You huffed. “Look, I know you think humans are all sorts of pathetic, but I’m not that—”

“You should be dead,” he repeated, sounding as if the words had to tear their way out of his throat—scraping like shards of glass all the way up.

You stared at his dark eyes and dripping bangs—the shadows playing across his cheeks and the strange, hollow, wrongness that had settled over all of him. With a heavy sigh you plopped yourself down into the chair across from his and dragged a handful of the leftover charms your way. Pointedly, you took one and slapped it over the wound. And then another.  

“See?” you said, flexing your wrist in his grip to put the creeping, black, cut on display. The talismans glowed softly against your skin and the lingering whisps of darkness licking at the the injury began to fade. “All better. Not something a dead person would say at all.”

Leona frowned, but at least it looked a bit more annoyed than outright bleak. And besides, frowns were better than whatever that stoic, expressionless, numbness had been.

“Though I appreciate your concern,” you grinned, pointedly sharp and prodding. Like a toddler standing by with a stick, hoping to poke out a reaction. “Truly, whatever would I do without the Great Lord Lion there to fret over me?”

But instead of the acidic ‘I wasn’t fucking worried,’ that you were expecting, or even a more muted grumble of dissent, Leona’s brow just pinched in displeasure and your awkward attempts at teasing faded into terse silence.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, almost too quiet to hear—his head low and eyes lower.

You sighed and twisted your wrist around to pat at his hand. There was the faintest tremor in his fingers and you tangled your own between them to give him something to squeeze, something to hide the shiver of lingering malaise that he would no doubt deny with his dying breath. You observed the stern, tight, expression warping his otherwise handsome face—the miserable, puckered, angle of his mouth and the way the emerald of his eyes was cut through with a shadow of genuine remorse. You reached out with your other hand to pet at his soft, round ears. They squished flat beneath your palm and your lips twitched up into a fond, little smile. Leona tipped his chin just enough to glower at you from beneath his bangs with no real heat, and you sighed and gave him one more pat for good measure.

“You’re forgiven.”

.

.

.

TAG LIST [CLOSED]

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[wearysaer]

Basically a sequel to the sketchy comic I made back in august (posted here much later) that you can find here. I also made a tag for this au because I have more ideas, I just hope it doesn't take me another half a year to draw them :D

[strawberrycowtime]

my silly rendition of @doctorsiren ‘s monster au ^_^

im literally in love with edgeworth helpppp

[the-trinket-witch]

Sorry Laz T_T It's Your Birthday and I forgor your card

it isn't a consolation, BUT I'd been meaning to make this for a bit over a month now, AND I'M FINALLY DELIVERING ON MY WORD, @writing-heiress !! Your Monster Lover AU's still got me by the huevos TwT

(note: these are only my interpretations of said species list, and not all are shown. ALSO: YES These are sketched redraws of existing sprites. I will not claim to have made these wholecloth, there was some amount of tracing to get this sumbitch out the door)

Trey-elf/satyr

Sebek-cockatrice

Cater-thyaid

Silver-Baku

Kalim-nereid

Jamil-naga

Riddle-anthusae

Ortho-cthonic construct

Deuce-Skvader

Ruggie-gnoll

Ace-kitsune

Leona-liontaur

(not pictured, Idia, I'd imagine just an aarokocra skeleton covered in fire)

[thepiercedbutterfly]

I did some silly little doodles of @doctorsiren’s monster au

[bonkalore]

Return of handsome merguy!! I think I'm gonna go with his name being Cyprus Polaris btw! Everyone seems to get a little flustered around him lol

The merpeople are gonna be most of the help to figure out what's been going on with Daniel turning into an amphibeast. I have merform designs for the others but haven't settled on them fully yet...

[an-albino-pinetree]

🖤🩶🤍💜 -v- ✨

[doctorsiren]

Day 13 of Sirentober / Doctober

Found / Family

Friday the 13th means silly little monster AU!

[peachsodah]

obligatory halloween art i made as a break between commissions.

demon miles is due to his demon prosecutor persona, zombie phoenix is cos like… idk the man is indestructible and would probably just sew his body parts back together if he were able honestly.

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Can I ask for a gn! Yuu that has very long hair like atleast that's touch the ground?

No need to do the request do ill wait and

P.s. I love your monster au❤❤❤

Awww, thank you! If I had to say, I think my Monster!AU is my most popular AU so far 😂 It’s just so much fun, and while I love doing the worldbuilding, the wholesome silliness and found family vibes just always get me ;;v;;

Anyway, you most certainly can! I couldn’t help but get flashbacks to my high school years when my best friend would call me Rapunzel because of how long my hair was…and the sheer panic and horror she felt when I came to school one day after getting a haircut and my hair was up to my jaw. Don’t worry, it grew back! I’ve only had it cut that short once, but never again. :V It took three years to get it back down my spine. >.>

So while you asked for a gn!Yuu with long hair (and I’m assuming it’s in Monster!AU), you didn’t necessarily specify any scenario, so I hope you enjoy the random silliness based on my experiences with critters and long hair! >w<

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When Yuu was finally able to get out of the ceremonial robes and into more comfortable clothes on the first night in Ramshackle, it came as quite a shock to Grim and the ghosts when they unwrapped their hair to the point the tips touched the ground. Given how dirty it was, however, Yuu had to quickly tie up their hair to keep it away from the dust.

“Where did you put all that?!” Grim asked, patting a paw against their hair as they tried to run their fingers through the long strands. “Why is it so long?!”

“Because I wanted it to be long?” Yuu replied with a shrug.

“Oh…do all humans have long hair?”

Despite being a chaotic gremlin in the beginning, Grim is more curious about the length and texture of Yuu’s hair than anything. At some point he realizes just how warm it is and will often be found practically wrapped up in it, snoozing away and just enjoying the comforting scent of their shampoo.

And then there were the monster students.

Hair is not a foreign concept by any means to these monsters, though the fact that there was someone who had hair this long? It reminded so many of those who knew the story of the Sun Kingdom and the princess with long hair who used incantations on a golden flower to bring her lover back from the dead!

“…your hair doesn’t glow, does it?” Ace asked, bouncing Yuu’s hair in his hands as he held it up to see it in the light.

“If it starts glowing, feel free to freak out, because I sure will!”

An issue that they came across, however, was how often the long strands got caught underfoot by monsters near them. More than once did their head jerk back because someone happened to step on it, whether they were trying to stand up or move to another spot. It happened more than once to the point Yuu’s neck started to hurt from the frequency. Such things didn’t go unnoticed by a certain unicorn…

“Honestly, you’re going to ruin your hair and your posture if you keep letting it drag on the floor like a mop,” Vil scolded them, the unicorn’s lion-like tail swishing in agitation as he worked through the newly formed knots.

“I can just put it up in a ponytail or a bun,” Yuu told him. “It’s no big deal.”

“Absolutely not! If you’re going to keep your hair this long, then at least do something more presentable and functional to keep it healthy and strong.”

So began the long process of Yuu having to sit through lessons on hair care from Vil. They watched as he worked in the mirror to fashion their hair into new styles, referencing videos he’d watched online and resources for hair that closely fit their own to ensure he knows how to care for and teach Yuu. They listened as he instructed them on how to braid or twist their hair into styles they never even considered, and before long they were walking out of Pomefiore with hair care samples and a long, thick braid that hung at the back of their knees. It was a little heavier than they were used to, but not unmanageable.

It certainly made it easier to dance and run after their friends when a certain gremlin chimera got up to mischief!

When Cheka comes to visit, Yuu can’t help but notice how much he acted like a kitten that they just…couldn’t help but let him play with their hair. It was adorable to watch at first, but—like all things in Twisted Wonderland—something inevitably goes wrong.

“How did he get tangled up in your hair this badly??” Jack asked as he tried to figure out how to unravel the giggling child from their hair.

“Ow…Cheka was just so cute playing, and I only looked away for a second,” Yuu said, their hands on their scalp to keep the tugging at a minimum. “I didn’t think he’d get tangled up like this!”

“Halp!” Grim cried out, squirming around Yuu’s hair as well.

“Ow ow ow ow! Grim, stop! You’re pulling on my scalp!”

“I’m starting to think that human hair is used to trap prey,” Ruggie commented with a snicker, though his fingers were still combing through and untangling the hair quicker and easier than Jack.

After all is said and done, Yuu’s hair is quite fascinating even to Cater’s Magicam followers, leading to some crazy hairstyles and designs to be created (and lots and lots of safe hair dye and hair spray to be used). If Yuu wants to use a rainbow of colors or specific ones for their hair, Vil and Professor Crewel will find ways to help do so without damaging the roots or strands with harsh dyes or bleach!

Straight? Curly? Wavy? Dreadlocks? Afros? Any style and texture of hair a human could have! Imagine the possibilities with styles and colors in a world where Yuu can literally ask someone to use magic to see how something would look! And there wouldn’t be any issue with returning it to normal because magic~!!

Kudos to those of you who are able to confidently dye your hair wonderful colors, I love seeing the hues that can be done ;;v;; I'm too chicken to do it to my own hair, so I live vicariously through seeing others do it. 😃

Anyway, that’s all I can think of off the top of my head! Hope you guys enjoy! >v<