i think my favorite character I’ve written into my Courts is Rime, a cat that died and came back, and later would joke that they just couldn’t bear to leave their life partner, Opal
truthfully they DID die, of sickness, a mixture of starvation and dehydration, sickness sapping away any strength to eat or drink, making it impossible to keep anything down. He died, for a full night he was dead, and the next morning was awake again
There’s no nine lives system in my Courts, Leaders dont get any extra lives, if they die, they’re dead. And the funny thing is, Rime is part of a cult that worships death and its cycle in life. Cats are ceremoniously eaten by their group-mates, with both consent from the deceased and their closest family member. If their family member refuses, the cat is buried instead.
My favorite thing is detailing the changes that happened to Rime after coming back.
Rime basically dies and comes back very, very different. Personality wise, they’re the same. But he doesn’t have a scent anymore, no eyeshine, he rarely has to eat or drink water.
A workaround, and a fav design note to him, is that Opal, his life partner, helps the insecurity of not having a scent(or at least, only having a faint scent of death) by tying a mixture of heather and lavender into his fur.
More context: Opal and Rime have been life partners for longer than they’ve been in the cult together. They met while young, and the bond between them was solidified when Opal picked a fight with a cat way bigger than both of them. Rime immediately threw himself in between them, and defended her. They got two scars on the bridge of their nose, between their eyes, for the trouble, and both of them ended up hightailing it out of there to avoid getting hurt more.
The relationship between them is currently the only one in my Courts - it's completely platonic, they’re dedicated life partners, call each other mates occasionally, and while Opal is pregnant, her kits aren’t Rime’s and Rime’s intention is only to help her raise the kits and act as an uncle rather than a parent. They’re both dedicated to each other and closely bonded.
Opal and Rime’s designs are some of my favorites, alongside Puffin and Finch, two others in the cult, though Finch was born into it and Puffin was adopted as a kit.
the cult is one of my favorite aspects of the Court’s universe, the characters are some of my favorites and I absolutely adore them
2 notes
·
View notes
Prompt: Because the Infinite Realms exists outside of time and space, the Ghost King summoning ritual is akin to pulling a random draw on a Gacha Game. The stronger the king, the rarer the summon.
Danny is the strongest :)
I refreshed my ask box and hoo boy there are a lot more asks than I was expecting lol Thank you for the prompt!
-
“So wait, you’ve never been Summoned? Not even once?” Tim looked up from the case he’d been working on, blinking in surprise behind his mask towards where Phantom was lounging lazily several feet above the floor.
“Nope.” Phantom said, popping the P as he shifted around in mid air, long tendril leaving a familiar mildly headache inducing after image behind him as he did.
Tim’s brow furrowed. “No offense, but you’re not exactly the most secretive member of the League. How have you managed to avoid any cults getting a hold of your name to try and do a summoning ritual to capture you?”
Phantom’s grin widened, long fangs glinting against pale blue tinged skin. “I haven’t.”
Across the room, Constantine went very still. Tim slid his gaze back towards the monitor before him, glancing towards the file he’d been reviewing for the case. Zantanna’s report on how summoning worked within the Infinite Realm. How power affected the odds of being able to successfully summon an entity. Odds for most beings from Phantom’s native realm were about 50/50 on a Summoning Ritual working to pull the being to them. Those odds got significantly less favorable for the summoners the stronger the entity got.
But the entity always knew when a summoning was being performed.
“Phantom.” Tim said, slowly, turning back to the grinning ghostly hero. “How many times have people tried to summon you?”
The ghost hmmed, “No idea. If we’re talking just today? …actually still no clue.” Phantom tilted his head, considering. “But since we started talking there’s been at least a thousand or so. It’s slowed down a bit over the last few minutes. Kinda nice.”
Constantine swore a blue streak impressive enough to put Jason to shame and stood, leaving the room in a haze of cigarette smoke and exasperated mutterings of I do not get paid bloody enough for this shit and honestly? Tim thinks he has a point.
Phantom smiles again.
Well, Tim considers, at least they won’t have to worry about him getting yanked in the middle of a battle.
2K notes
·
View notes
(Continued from this snippet! Content notes: police interrogation, homophobia)
“You don’t look gay.” The detective gives Steve a very obvious once-over. Steve tries to look gayer as subtly as he can.
“Sorry,” he says. “Guess I’ll have to let my boyfriend know you don’t think I look gay enough to fuck him.”
The detective’s face twists slightly, like he’s smelled something bad. “No need to be like that. I’m just saying, I bet a good-looking guy like you could get a girlfriend pretty easy.”
“You’re not my type,” says Steve. He smiles with his teeth, even though his heart is going fast and he can feel his palms starting to sweat.
The detective’s hands tense, and Steve wonders if he’s about to get hit, but they relax again and the detective sits back.
“Just doing my job,” says the detective. “Because, funny enough, we asked around with all your little friends, and it seems like you used to be a bit of a ladies’ man.”
“Things change,” says Steve.
“In fact…seems like none of your friends ever even saw you talk to Munson before. Moved in different circles and everything. I remember what high school was like.”
The detective leans close.
“So why would the captain of the swim team, a nice normal boy from a good family with a string of pretty girlfriends, ever—ever—stick his neck out like this for some murdering scum like Munson? That’s what I’m trying to figure out, here.”
“Don’t fucking talk about him like that,” says Steve. His mouth is dry. His pulse is thundering in his ears. “He didn’t kill anyone. He was with me the whole time. He’s—he didn’t kill anyone.”
“Hm,” says the detective.
It takes a while for them to stop interrogating him. They keep asking him the same questions over and over, trying to trip him up. He asks for water and doesn’t get it. In the back of his mind, a hysterical little voice is shrieking Scoops Ahoy! I work for Scoops Ahoy!, but he manages to keep it locked down. Doesn’t let himself get baited, just keeps repeating that Eddie was with him the whole time and neither of them know anything.
It takes a while, but it’s over eventually.
When he leaves the station, Eddie’s standing outside with Hopper and Joyce Byers, wearing a shirt and jeans that definitely belonged to Jonathan at some point. Eddie’s got his hands tucked into his armpits, looking antsy and tense, but he’s free and standing on his own two feet. It’s a pretty big upgrade from when Steve last saw him about a week or two ago.
It’s almost too easy to go straight over to him, wrapping him up in a tight hug like they’ve had their arms around each other a million times.
“Oof. Easy there, tiger,” laughs Eddie. “I’m, uh, still a little fragile.”
“Sorry,” says Steve, and loosens his hold. He doesn’t let go all the way.
“Come on, boys,” says Joyce. “I’m taking you two home. Steve, Eddie’s been staying with us, but we’re a little short on spare beds and it’s not great for his recovery. We’re moving him to your place until we can figure out something better, okay?”
———
Joyce drops them off and helps carry in a few garbage bags full of Eddie’s stuff. There’s not that much.
And then the door closes behind her, and Steve’s alone with Eddie for the first time since—actually, maybe ever.
“So,” says Eddie. “What…the fuck, Harrington.”
“Is that an actual question?” Steve says. He rolls his shoulders, trying to get some of the stiffness out. “I mean, didn’t Hopper and Mrs. Byers explain everything to you?”
“Kind of? I mean, I still think this is probably the worst idea of all time, but they told me—anyway, what I meant just now was a much more personalized and individual what the fuck. As in, why the fuck would you agree to any of this? You know you’re never gonna get another girl in this town to look at you now.”
“Dumping me already? Ice cold, man.”
Eddie groans and actually throws his hands in the air in frustration. Steve hadn’t known people did that in real life.
“Jesus christ.” Eddie wheels around and grabs two of the garbage bags. “I can’t do this right now, I need to take a fucking nap. We will be discussing this later.”
“Still don’t know what there is to discuss,” says Steve, but he picks up the last garbage bag and leads the way to the spare room.
Eddie pitches forwards onto the bed, arms outstretched and face mashed into the pillow. “Fuck yes, I am going to marry this goddamn mattress. Hit the lights when you leave,” he says, slightly muffled.
For a second, Steve finds himself stepping forward with a hand outstretched to—do something. He’s not sure what. Touch Eddie’s hair, or something dumb like that. His face warms. He’s really glad Eddie isn’t looking at him and doesn’t see how he’s kind of just standing there with a hand out for no reason.
He turns around, flicking the light switch on his way out, and doesn’t look back.
2K notes
·
View notes