#just for caleb ghost thing
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[King's Tide]
Caleb's ghost: Y-Y-You're not going to slash through a bunch of children, right, Pip?
Monster Belos: Yeah, in the face. Why?
#source: puss in boots the last wish#the owl house#toh#toh spoilers#just for caleb ghost thing#emperor belos#philip wittebane#caleb wittebane#toh king's tide#chat post
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The two sides of the Caleb ghost or not thing
1.) essays that are sometimes good points but other times are essays that claim they must be illusions because it would be better writing and try to present that as evidence
2.) CALEB CLAIMS EACH ONE AS HIS SON! THEY BOND OVER HECKLING BELOS AND HATRED OF HIM BEING ALIVE!! THE GUARDS NOW CALL THEMSELVES THE CHILDREN OF THE BONES!!!
#i myself really can’t tell what Caleb is#I would like to believe that he is an actual ghost along with the previous golden guards#but everything I have picked through keeps the scale balanced#some people have posted observations why he would be a illusion#I used those as reference while trying to dissect the whole thing#they were good points#I just don’t think the posts that say it would be better writing really prove anything#toh for the future#toh season 3#caleb wittebane#caleb clawthorne#toh hunter#the golden gaurd#previous golden guard#previous grimwalkers
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Jukebogs (Julie/Luke/Reggie/Bobby), Ghost Hunters AU
"Like every episode of Ghost Bros," Luke was giving his usual spiel to the camera. "Reggie and I will be doing our investigation in the house, trying to capture evidence. Then, our resident psychic Julie will tell us if this place is actually haunted, or if our camera man Bobby used his weed dealer's connections to find another random creepy abandoned house with no ghosts."
"Stop antagonizing him!" Reggie said nervously. "Last time you antagonized him, he nearly made me pee myself during the solo investigation."
Bobby turned the camera around to film his own unimpressed face. "Luke was supposed to find that ventriloquist dummy with the knife covered in ketchup, not you," he deadpanned, before swinging the camera back around to Luke and Reggie.
Julie sighed. She knew the boy's shenanigans was part of the draw of the show, but she was the one who usually had to deal with Reggie clinging to her all night, before ghosts generally listened when she told them to buzz off. Not that they usually slept in haunted locations, except for the season finale.
"Sooo," the cute boy in the crop top who hadn't been there two seconds ago started. "Can I mess with them? Please tell me I can mess with them."
"We are not messing with them!" Another boy in a pink hoodie said. "If we mess with them, we're going to have every ghost hunter with a shitty Youtube Channel clamouring through our house, messing with our stuff. Do you have any idea how long it took me to get that dent in the couch right for my ghost butt?"
"Don't worry," Julie whispered, as to not alert the (alive) boys. "We never give up our haunted locations unless the ghosts ask us to."
"Holy shit she is psychic!" Crop Top whispered gleefully.
"Tell them to stay off my couch!" Hoodie said urgently.
"I will," Julie promised. She could let Bobby know, and he'd keep them off. "But only if you promise to go easy on Reggie."
"What about the camera man?" Crop Top asked.
Julie blinked. None of the spirits had ever really interacted with Bobby before. The ones who knew what a camera was respected his position, and the ones who didn't were usually distracted by the two idiots loudly asking questions and waving around various gadgets and asking them to touch flashlights.
"You should totally mess with the camera man," she decided. Bobby was not so much a skeptic - none of the boys were, they believed in what Julie could do- but he was pretty un-phased by pretty much everything. "That would make a great season finale."
(Send me an AU and a Pairing and I'll write you a thing.)
#julie and the phantoms#bobbyxjuliexlukexreggie#fanfic#I wrote a thing#AUs are awesome#ghost hunter au#carlos is their special guest star#he goes in first and declares somewhere haunted or not#he's almost always wrong#he does not actually get the ghost tinglies like his sister#he also explains all the new gadgets they use each season#bobby's weed dealer is also in real estate he knows a lot of empty houses and properties okay#you know how in Worth It Adam the Camera Man became a favourite? that's bobby#he was just here to film but then the editors stopped editing out his dry commentary#if the house is haunted Julie will tell people a little about the history and what the ghosts told her#if they want to talk because not all ghosts do#they did the hollywood ghost club and Caleb would not SHUT UP
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Thinking about Mollymauk haunting an old abandoned wizard tower after Lucien's death--maybe Vess'?? Maybe even somewhere in the Solstryce Academy he was so enamored with? And Caleb just, seeing these flashes of a striking lavender tiefling out of the corner of his eye, hearing laughter and singing in darkened corridors. Feeling the comforting touch of someone that isn't there--
#molly is very good for any kind of haunting the narrative story its his whole thing#and i love how caleb just seems to really fall for molly in his absence and gets so fixated on bringing him back#the circus man and magic man are just a very ghost story kind of love story
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been in a weird state of missing old media I once loved lately... miss you trc. miss you the bright sessions.
#and most importantly I miss my beloved angry teenage boy characters :(#oh ronan lynch oh caleb michaels#the thing is I Know that if I reread/relisten it would probably ruin the fondness esp w tbs that podcast kinda sucked ABSBNXUSKDVND#but I miss my old faves :(((#sighhh#truly I would reread trc just for ronan I'd do it I would#ghost posts#text
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Tease Me*
Summary: An extra for Teach Me*
The one where you and your best friend, Harry, are invited to a Haunted House.
But ghosts aren’t the only fun thing about this party.
(For my non-spooky besties, the house isn't actually haunted! Just old and abandoned! There are no jump scares💞)
Word Count: 9.5k
Content Warning: 18+, smut, slight exhibitionism, Daddy kink, masturbation, creampie, slight breeding kink, fluff, subspace, Harry being a simp
“Holy…shit.”
The large mansion looms into view. A tall, skeletal structure that’s brightened by the soft glow of the full moon. Hidden behind tall pines and a collection of dancing shadows, it stands like a sentinel of forgotten secrets. Ivy drips from the rotting wood, and boards cover a majority of the windows. The once grand façade bearing the scars of time.
You can see a collection of breathtaking stained glass windows lining the top story of the house. You can’t exactly make out the artwork from this distance, but you know, undoubtedly, that they’re beautiful. Only imagining what those reflections might look like in the sunlight.
The car sneaks along the gravel driveway, the sound of rocks and crunching leaves following you every inch of the way. You feel your breath hitch as you glance over toward Harry, who returns your look with a cocked brow of his own.
He pulls up next to the only other car on the lot. Rather, the only other car for miles. From the passenger seat, you can see Charlie, Jackie, and Caleb all huddled around the hood, conversing in hushed voices, and waving at you both in greeting.
Harry shifts into park before leaning back in his seat to turn his attention to you. “Well?”
You suck in a quiet breath before nodding once. “It’s…spooky.”
“Mhm.”
“And…big.”
“Thanks, but I meant the house,” he replies cooly, and you can’t help but grin.
“Funny. Honestly, I don’t think this is what I was expecting.”
“No?” He considers this with a nod of his own. “I guess it’s more ugly than scary. Caleb said he used to come here all the time when he was a kid. His brother claimed it was haunted.”
“Ooo,” you tease, and Harry smirks. “Do you believe in ghosts?”
He lifts a shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. “I don’t ever really think about it.”
“That’s fair.”
Now his expression twists into something more mischievous as he leans closer to you. “But…if any ghosts come out and try to steal you from me, I have no problem sending ‘em back to the afterlife.”
You laugh again as you playfully swat your hand across his arm before surging forward to kiss him. “You’re an idiot, baby.”
“Yeah. But m’your idiot.”
“Unfortunately.”
He laughs.
With that, you both unbuckle your seatbelts and step out of the car, joining your friends just beside the front steps of the mansion.
“Well, well, well,” Charlie grins, nodding his chin at the two of you. “Can’t believe you actually showed. Thought Har-Bear wasn’t into Halloween.”
Harry offers another shrug; relaxed but amused. “I’m not. But I wouldn’t mind seeing you get the shit scared out of you.”
Charlie’s expression falls while the rest of you laugh. “Okay, funny. Hysterical. Caleb’s the one that pissed himself when he was here last.”
“I was ten, dipshit,” Caleb snorts. “And I didn’t piss myself, I just screamed a little.”
“Right,” Jackie teases, nudging him with her elbow. “Whatever you say, champ.”
Caleb’s eyes roll, but he’s smiling as the five of you begin to make your way up onto the porch. “You’ll see. It’s spooky.”
“I’m sure we will, bud,” Charlie replies, tossing him a wink. “And after you go running back to the car in tears, we’ll make sure to lock up for you.”
“Thanks.”
“Welcome.”
With a soft laugh, Harry looks over at you. “You scared, Bee?”
“Me? Scared?” you snort. “Never.”
“Good.” He tosses his arm around your shoulder and tugs you into his chest. “Nothing to be scared of while I’m here.”
The other two boys pretend to be annoyed while Jackie offers you both a cheeky grin. “You guys are sickeningly sweet.”
“Oh, we know,” Harry answers impishly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I mean, I do a majority of the heavy lifting. But Bee’s pretty cute, too, I suppose.”
“Hysterical,” you deadpan, using your elbow to shove him away as you all approach the front door.
Your little group slows to a stop, exchanging glances and deep breaths as Caleb slowly says, “…are you ready?”
The air is laced with anticipation and excitement, and the four of you nod before his hand outstretches for the door.
It opens with a shrill screech as a flock of birds fling from their spot on a nearby branch and take off into the ghostly night sky.
With a deep breath, Caleb leads you all into the house, head held high, and shoulders back. The mansion is dark and the floorboards creak beneath your sneakers. The air is musky and cobwebs drape from each corner of the doorframe.
Quicky, you all search for your cellphones and flashlights, flipping them on to illuminate the path before you. Revealing a bit more of the corridor as you make your way inside.
“Shit,” Charlie murmurs, eyes wide as his focus flicks from wall to wall. “All right, maybe you weren’t kidding.”
“Told you,” Caleb retorts, peeking his head into the first room. “It’s not exactly scary, but it is cool as hell.”
“No kidding,” Jackie chimes in while you nod. “How many rooms are there?”
“No idea. But there are at least three levels. Plus, the attic, but Zac and I could never figure out how to get up there.”
“I’ll find it,” Charlie declares confidently, and Harry shoots you a knowing smirk. “What? If anyone can, it’s me.”
“I’m sure,” Caleb huffs, slipping in to what looks to be the drawing room. “By all means, go ahead. Honestly, we can split up and check out the other rooms. There’s a lot of cool shit here.”
Charlie nods once, running the light from his phone down one of the walls. Examining the faded wallpaper and dust-covered picture frames.
With a cock of his brow, Harry leans closer, nudging his shoulder against yours. “What do you say? Wanna do some exploring?”
You grin eagerly, nodding as well. “Yeah. Maybe we’ll find the attic first.”
You catch Charlie’s frown out of the corner of your eye, but the five of you can’t help but laugh as Harry leads you toward the next hallway.
The group disperses, with Charlie and Jackie searching the kitchen, Caleb ascending the stairs to the second floor, and you and Harry beginning for some of the bedrooms.
The house is quiet. Eerily so, with only the sound of your footsteps to accompany you. And even with two flashlights, you can only see a portion of the narrow hallway at a time. From the wooden trim to the chipped paint.
You fall in line behind Harry’s taller frame, allowing him to guide you toward the furthest room as he strides with a confidence you envy. Unaffected by the sounds, and smells, and ghostly aurora.
“You all right back there, Bee?” he calls after a moment more of your silence. Seeming to catch your strained inhales and lack of commentary. “Still with me?”
“Yes,” you whisper, but it’s airy. As though your voice has been swept away by the hands of a ghost. “Just…trying not to trip.”
Even without seeing the full of his face, you can tell he’s smiling. “Come on, lovey, you know I’d catch you.”
“Uh-huh,” you murmur, lashes fluttering as you glance up toward the old chandelier dangling from the tall ceiling.
Suddenly, Harry stops, forcing you to catch yourself against him before he glances at you. “Hop on.”
Confused, you blink. “What?”
“Hop on,” he repeats, placing his cellphone between his teeth while crouching down. Allowing you access to his back in an invitation to climb up.
And once you finally understand, you can’t help but smile. Slipping your arms around his shoulders before hoisting yourself onto his body. Legs curling around his hips while his hands reach back to keep you sturdy.
Once you’re settled, you gently pull the phone from between his lips and aim the fluorescent gleam across the room. Providing him a bit more light to see as he straightens up.
“Thank you, baby,” he hums. “You all right?”
“Mhm. Are you?”
“Very. Just make sure to hold on, yeah?”
You grin a bit wider and tuck your chin over his shoulder. “Promise.”
With that, he begins down the hall, keeping his fingers tight around your ankles. “All right, baby dove, where do you wanna go first?”
Vaguely, you gesture toward the closest room. From the small sliver your light catches, you can see that it’s filled with large curtains and furniture draped in cloth. It looks…reminiscent. Calling to you and inviting you to step inside a lost era, a forgotten memory.
He carries you closer, and as he strides through the murky corridor, you use the height advantage to look around. Taking in the more subtle details of the old house.
The hand railing beside the staircase. The broken floor beneath you. The cracked light fixtures and dusty bookshelves.
You can’t imagine the life that was lived. The parties they threw, the elegance that sang from every corner, the memories that were created.
You wonder about the people who built it. Wonder what they were like, what made them leave. If they ever reminisce about the old house they used to call home.
“It’s beautiful,” you find yourself saying, exhaling the sentiment almost fondly.
Harry hums again, eyes trailing across the expanse of the carpet underneath his shoes. “Shame nobody ever bought it and fixed it up.”
“Yeah,” you agree quietly. “Maybe we should.”
He smiles at this, squeezing your legs a bit tighter. “Oh, yeah?”
“Mhm. Wouldn’t it be fun? A little passion project?”
“Maybe. Don’t know what we’d do with all this space, though.”
You shrug. “Well, we’d have plenty of room to storm off if we got into a fight.”
He laughs. “Yeah?”
“And we’d have plenty of places for…you know, other things.”
“Other things,” he repeats knowingly, glancing back with a smirk. “I do love our other things.”
You snuggle closer. “And if we ever wanted to start a family…we’d have room for that, too.”
He’s quiet now, his tongue slowly sweeping across his bottom lip in thought. “D’you think about our family, Bee?”
“I do,” you admit, almost sheepishly. “Sometimes. Not, like…right away, or anything. But…I just wonder, I guess. What you’d be like. What we’d be like.”
“Yeah? And how are we?”
“We’re good,” you tell him. “You’re the fun parent. Of course. And I’m the one that makes them do their homework and eat their veggies.”
He grins. “Of course.”
“And they have your hair. Lots of curls, very wild.”
“Mm.”
“And they love to sing. They aren’t good at it…but they love it.”
He laughs a bit louder this time, head shaking as he brushes his thumbs across the exposed skin of your ankles. “Sounds about right.”
“And we’re really happy,” you finish tenderly. “And we have two dogs, and one cat. And nothing changes between us. We’re still us, and we still love each other a lot, and we still go on tons of adventures and have really good, wild sex.”
He’s smiling so hard, you can see his dimples. “I wouldn’t want anything less.”
“Me, either.”
You fall silent as Harry finally brings you both into the large room, ducking beneath the frame to make sure you don’t hit your head. You kiss the side of his jaw gratefully before he sets you down with a gentle plop, allowing you both to straighten up and take a look around.
Sizable paintings hang from each wall. Encased behind gold, elegant frames that are layered with a light film of dust. Even still, the artwork is breathtaking. Portraits of what look to be great men and women. Soft brush strokes that are wildly vivid, despite the many years stuck in this dark room.
Harry takes his flashlight from you and aims it toward the green, velvet sofa in the middle of the vast space. Eyes wide as he studies it. “A lot of this stuff is in better shape than I thought it’d be.”
You make a noise of agreement as you gingerly run your fingers along the faded wallpaper. “I wonder what made them leave this all behind?”
“I don’t know. S’probably worth a fortune.”
“And it’s still here? Nobody came and looted it?”
He sports a rather charmed grin at your choice of wording. “Guess not. Kind of strange, honestly. City never reclaimed it, either.”
“Yeah…”
He glances over, a mischievous glint behind the soft green. “Maybe there’s a reason.”
“What?”
The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Maybe…the ghosts won’t let it go.”
Finally understanding his joke, you roll your eyes with a snort before striding toward the giant bookshelf. “Ha, ha.”
“Maybe the owners died in the fifties,” he continues, dropping his voice to a lower drawl. Attempting to add a bit of mystique and suspicion. “Maybe they were murdered in cold blood. And they never found out who killed them, so they haunt the grounds of their old house. Until the day their killer dares to come back.”
You pretend to be intrigued, nodding along with faux fascination. “Uh-huh. Which makes us…what? Ghost bait?”
“Mmm…perhaps,” he murmurs, stalking toward you. “Perhaps that’s why Caleb really brought us here. To feed us to his ancestors. Appease the Halloween Gods.”
“Right.”
He closes the distance between you, angling the beam of his light up toward his face as dark shadows dance across his features. “Or maybe Caleb isn’t Caleb at all. Maybe…he’s a ghost—”
Suddenly, he jolts forward, making you gasp as you steel yourself from the sudden movement. Eyes wide and heart racing.
But once you realize he’s merely messing with you, you begin to glare. Scoffing, “God, you’re an ass.”
He drops his cellphone and beams at you. Much too smug with his victory. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I won’t resist drop kicking your ass out that window.”
“Fair enough,” he chuckles, peering down at you with a delicate look of adoration before he’s pressing his lips to yours. “Forgive me?”
You try to pout into the kiss, but he’s too good. Warm and soft and the definition of comfort. “Hm. Fine. Just this once.”
He offers one final peck before returning to his search. Hands sweeping along the grimy bookshelves, fingers trailing down the broken spines. He seems lost in thought, and you watch almost fondly as he reaches out for one particular title.
“Frankenstein,” he reads aloud, tilting it back with a smile. “Used to be my favorite growing up.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. My mom used to read it to me all the time.”
And you feel this undeniable tug on your heartstrings as you settle behind him, arms slipping around his middle. “What did you like about it?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I liked the idea of something so…broken being so beautiful. Or maybe it was just the idea of how he was built. And why. You know?”
“Yeah. I think it’s sweet you liked it so much. You never told me.”
“I mean, I stopped reading it as I got older. I think I just liked the way my mom read it to me. She’d do all these voices, try to freak me out.”
You laugh. “Yeah, that sounds like her.”
“It was great. I loved it. S’probably one of my favorite memories growing up.”
And there’s that yanking in your chest again. “You’re cute, you know that?”
He smirks. “Thanks.”
With that, he releases the book, allowing it to fall back into place on the shelf beside the other novels.
But, the moment it lands, a startling and rather jarring rumble explodes from somewhere behind you. Compelling a jump as you both spin around in search for the offending sound.
And there, just beside the old grandfather clock that sits near the door, hangs one of the large paintings. This one of a beautiful woman wearing a stunning, purple grown and a coy smile. Yet, her portrait is moving. Sliding across the wall as if by magic until you’re able to see what lies behind.
A passageway.
You suck in a gasp as you and Harry both shine your lights into the dark opening. Finding nothing more than a narrow stairway that disappears into somewhere else in the house.
You look to Harry.
Harry looks to you.
“What the fuck,” he whispers, but you can see the excitement weaving through his dimple. “That’s…the coolest shit I’ve ever seen.”
You can’t help but agree, feet drawing you closer, as if compelled by the mesmeric introduction and inviting shadows. “Yeah…”
Footsteps follow you. “Bee, hold on. We don’t know where it goes or if we can get back out.”
Now, you hesitate, considering the rather valid point. “It probably leads to the attic. Caleb said he couldn’t figure out how to get up there, but I’m sure there’s a way back down. There’d have to be.”
“Maybe. Or maybe…that’s where the ghosts are waiting to lure us in—”
“All right,” you hiss, shoving on his arm before continuing for the door. “I will slap that dimple right off your face, I’m serious.”
“Well, you know I like it when you do.”
And even despite his teasing, you feel your stomach flip. Memories calling back to the forefront of your mind as you remember his pink skin and arrogant smirk. The way he’d beg you to keep going – give him more.
“Can you please be serious?” you choose to say, reaching back for his hand as you approach the entrance. “Because if we die in here, I don’t want one of the last things we said to be one of your shitty jokes.”
He laughs, but intertwines his fingers with yours willingly. Squeezing your palm for comfort. “Sorry, lovey. By all means, please do lead us into the deathtrap. You’ll hear no more jokes from me. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
“Good boy.”
He squishes your hand again knowingly before you take a deep breath and begin up the stairs.
The walls are about five feet apart in width, providing a rather narrow space for the two of you to slip between as you ascend up into the rest of the house. The path curves like a spiral, up and up until you’re almost sure there’s nowhere else to go. And your head pops right out of the roof.
Then, you come to the last one, and see that it opens up and leads into something else. A vast, empty floor with more light that you’ve seen anywhere else in the house.
Curious, you move a bit faster, eager to see what awaits. And once you step into the room…your breath catches.
Stained glass windows decorate each wall, the full moon projecting the most beautiful colors and imagery across the entire space. From the floor to the ceiling and every inch in between. It’s like walking into a rainbow. Or heaven. Such a stark contrast from the eerie journey up the stairs in nothing but darkness.
Harry’s shoulder brushes against yours as he steps up beside you. Eyes fluttering as he pockets his phone and glances about the room admiringly. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” you agree in a quiet whisper. Walking toward the first window as your fingers outstretch for the tempered glass. “It’s…it’s beautiful.”
“It is.” He follows you. “They must have loved it up here.”
You feel yourself smile. “I bet it was the perfect hideaway.” You motion toward the furthest wall where a dainty (but somewhat tattered) window seat lies. “Bet they came up here and just read or painted all day. Watched the sun rise and set.”
You feel him staring at you. Observing your profile as you continue to glance around, trying to soak in every little detail.
Then, you feel him. His touch sweeping across your cheek before he’s brushing a bit of hair from your shoulder. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”
You glance over.
“About us. Having kids, starting a family.” His expression is void of any of his previous taunting. Instead, solely focused on the soft skin of your jaw as he ghosts his thumb beneath your chin. “Is that what you really want? With me?”
And a part of your heart aches because…yes. You’d live a million lifetimes with him. With kids, without kids. Here, there. Fast-paced or easy-going. You’d do it all. You’d do everything with him.
Everything.
You reach up and slip your fingers around his wrist. Keeping him close as you nuzzle into his palm. “Of course I would, Har. Just want you.”
He steps closer, taking both sides of your face in his hands now as he keeps you in his strong hold. Gazing at you lovingly until you feel your insides twist.
“I will give you anything you want, Bee,” he murmurs, and you can feel his promise dance across your lips. “Give you kids. Give you a big, beautiful home. Give you the life you deserve.”
You inhale quietly, desperately grasping onto his arms.
“Anything you want, baby,” he breathes, and you know how much he means it. “Give you fucking everything.”
Tears spring to your eyes, dancing along your waterline until one jumps down your cheek. Right into Harry’s waiting thumb where he quickly soothes it away. “You know I would,” you tell him in a timid whisper. “I promise, I would, I just…I can’t…”
His eyes soften when he understands, yet his head shakes as he brings your chest to his. “It doesn’t matter how or why. If we want to start a family, we can. Any way we want to. Any way you want to. Nothing else matters, lovey. Just wanna do it together.”
Together.
You stumble over a choked sob, burying yourself in his embrace while he dips down to kiss you. Harder than he has all night and filled with a kind of love that can’t be explained. Only felt through the synchronistic brushing of his lips against yours.
“My girl,” he exhales, nudging his nose along your cheek before bringing his kisses back. “My fucking girl. Know I love you, yeah? Know you’re my only?”
You whimper, nodding pitifully as you allow him to take the reins. Deciding how far and how deep this kiss goes.
“Good.” He drops his hands to your hips, squeezing once. “Because you are, Bee. Never loved anybody the way I love you.”
And you know – you know he means it.
Something clicks in your brain. Something lustful and needy. You’re overcome with this anxious desire to have him. To be with him wholly. You want to crawl into his skin and live there. Be as close to him as possible.
Show him exactly how much he means to you.
The kisses become hungrier. Sloppier. Rushed and borderline animalistic as you reach down and lace your fingers with his. Guiding him away from the wall and toward the carpet in the center of the room.
He seems to understand your intent. Smiling against your mouth as you move him where you want him.
“Sneaky girl,” he breathes, pressing his mouth to your neck. Nipping below your ear until you sigh contently. “S’that why you really wanted to come up here, hm? Wanted to get me alone? Have your way with me?”
And even though he’s effortlessly putting the power in your hands, you can’t help but feel swayed by him. Drawn in by his suggestion and prowess while your stomach flips in on itself.
“Maybe,” you admit quietly, grinning when he chuckles darkly. “Because maybe I know…you want me to have my way with you. Don’t you?”
He nods quickly, groaning almost to himself before he gropes at your waist and moves his kisses to your exposed collarbone. “Do anything you want, Bee. I meant it.”
Pleased, you take yourself away from him. “Good. Because I want you on your knees.”
And he almost looks disappointed that he’s had to stop kissing you, but the starvation behind his eyes is unmistakable.
He drops so quickly, your head spins. Head tilted back and hands obediently landing on his thighs in wait.
“Good boy,” you can’t help but mutter, reaching down to press your palm to his cheek in gratitude. “Always obey me so well.”
“Always,” he repeats reverently. Voice thick as though drunk with longing.
“Can’t take too long, okay? They might come looking for us, and I don’t think we’d ever be able to live that down,” you add, softening your tone some to ease the charged tension.
“I know,” he replies quickly. Almost pitifully, as if desperate to agree and make you happy. “Be quick, I swear.”
A grin splits your face. “Want you to take off your jeans, baby,” you instruct now, nodding toward his hips. “Just your jeans. Don’t want you to get cold.”
So, he does. Fumbling with his belt and button before dragging the dark fabric down his beautiful thighs, revealing his new tattoo. It catches the moonlight and the reflection of the red glass across the room. Drawing in your attention while your mouth nearly waters.
But he doesn’t seem to notice. Instead working quickly to rid himself of the material before returning to his knees.
“Good. My jeans next,” you tell him, and he extends his hands toward your waist.
Just as quickly as before, he slips, pulls, and tugs until you can step out of your pants and toss them aside. Making sure to hold your hand as you do so you don’t lose your balance.
It’s these little things that endear you to him. The way he doesn’t even realize he’s done something thoughtful. Instead offering such a gesture out of reflex and love.
“Thank you, baby,” you whisper, squeezing his chin once. “Now…I want you to lie back for me, okay? Don’t want you to do anything else. Just wanna take care of you.”
His Adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow, and you can nearly see his heart thumping against his chest. He’s on his back in seconds, obediently lying on the carpet with his focus trained on you. Eager to see what you have in mind.
Truth be told, you’re rather eager, too. Crouching down near his ankles until you can straddle his legs.
He lifts his head off the floor in order to see you, glued to your every move while his breath hitches.
You begin to make your way up his body. Bringing your lips to the beautiful, warm skin of his thighs as you travel toward his hips. Allowing your kisses to guide you.
You hear him release a strained curse. Catching the way his chest rises and falls a bit more rapidly, as if in tune with his racing heart. And you’re going so slow, you think you might kill him. Dragging your tongue along the tattoo before flicking your eyes to his. Making sure you truly have his undivided attention.
His lashes flutter, leg twitching beneath you. “Bee…”
“Yes, baby?” Your coy innocence makes another groan reverberate from his chest. “What do you want, hm?”
“Please,” is all he has the strength to mumble, fingers twitching beside him. Desperate to weave through your hair and tug. “Lovey, please…”
“I know. But I wanna play with you a bit first, okay?” You straighten up and crawl toward the tops of his thighs, just above his dark boxers. “Gonna let me play with you, Daddy?”
Another quick nod before he drops his head back to the floor. Overcome with desire.
And you imagine you know what he thinks you’re going to do. That he’s confident in his guess as he awaits for you to confirm his suspicion.
But there’s something much more thrilling about catching him off guard. Torturing him just a little.
Because you know he loves it.
Once you feel comfortable in your new position, you allow your hand to travel between your legs. Dancing beneath the hem of your sweater before settling atop your baby blue underwear.
Your light grazes are innocent at first. Soft strokes along the cotton fabric. Enough to earn a shiver while Harry’s eyes cement to your hand. Mesmerized by the way you touch yourself.
You hum at the faint but teasing touches. Feeling almost giddy to quench this flame. Create pleasure for yourself and allow him to watch you. See exactly how good it feels.
Then, you hook the fabric to the side, and allow him the perfect visual of your cunt.
You notice a sharp chill as the cold air nips at you, but it only aids in encouraging you further. Making you grin to yourself while you use your other hand to drag your fingers through your pussy. Slipping between your folds and up to your clit.
“Shit,” he murmurs, eyelids growing heavier. “Shit, Bee—”
You circle the sensitive nerves a few times to work yourself up. Indulging in the feel and the unexplainable relief it provides. It’s like a drug. Addicting and somehow not nearly enough.
“Baby, please—” he tries again, palms finally reaching for your thighs in an effort to touch you. At least somehow. “Fuck—”
“Thought you wanted to be good,” you say, pinching your clit until you gasp. “Thought…thought you wanted to give me anything—”
“I do,” he answers through a rushed breath. “Bee, I do. I do, please—”
“Then, I want you to watch. Want you to watch what you do to me.”
He groans again, and you can see the slight pink in his cheeks from the frigid air and the way he’s so entranced with you. “Lovey, please…”
You slip down, teasing the tip of your finger around your fluttering hole until you can feel the arousal beginning to gather. Humming while you roll your hips in tune with your hand. Riding your own fingers before you’re moving back to your clit.
“Har…” His name slips out before you can stop it. Sighing from your tongue without pause. As if it’s instinct to associate him with your pleasure. To say his name in a desperate plea for more.
You feel him squeeze your legs. Tighter than he ever has. “M’here,” he calls. “M’right here, baby. What do you need?”
Too much. “You, Har. You, always.”
He’s pulling on you now. Palms smoothing up the globes of your ass until he can practically yank you closer. “Just ask. Ask me, Bee, and I’ll give it to you.”
And you’re torturing yourself. Perhaps more than him, and you nearly whimper when you realize how badly you miss him.
So, you remove your hands from between your legs in order to reach for his boxers. Slipping inside and pulling his cock out until he lands against his stomach. Beautiful, and flushed, and leaking pearlescent drops that glisten beneath the light of the moon.
And once it’s free, you grind down. Dragging your once more covered cunt along his shaft. Close, but not close enough. Just to provide a bit of friction and make him moan as you brace yourself against his chest.
Your nails curl into the dark material of his shirt, scraping down his stomach as you reel. It’s so much and yet not even close to satiating you. Merely taunting you with the idea of what you really want. A type of release that will never be truly satisfactory like this.
“Fuck—” A lewd moan scrapes from the back of his throat. Hands pressing hard into your hips to help roll you over his cock faster and quicker. “Gonna fucking kill me, Bee.”
You’d like to be smug, but you’re too far gone to feel anything but need. “Har—”
“Gonna cum like this, baby? S’this all it takes?”
“I’m…I…”
“Look so cute, lovey. So fucking cute, using my cock to get off. Feels so good, doesn’t it? Rubbing your pretty little pussy all over me?”
Your eyes roll back, head feeling heavy as your chin drops to your chest.
Then, you feel his thumb against the only part of your clit he can reach. Pressing into it just enough to make you whimper. “Shh. It’s okay, I’ve got you. Wanna cum? Go ahead, you can cum, Bee. Make me so happy…just wanna feel you—”
And you hate how quickly it hits you. Hate that you truly thought you’d be able to edge yourself until you made him break.
But it consumes you from the inside out. Blindsiding your dominance until it sweeps you under his current. You become a trembling, shaking, moaning mess above him.
“There you go. Good fucking girl. So good…s’perfect,” he murmurs, continuing to guide you through it until you nearly collapse. “Feel better, baby?”
You nod weakly, cracking your eyes open just enough to catch his look of approval.
“Good,” he replies before a dark look seems to take hold. Hungrier than you’ve ever seen him.
Suddenly, he’s sitting up. Forcing you to lean back as his arms loop around your waist and he’s hoisting you both into the air. Straightening back onto his feet while carrying you in his arms toward the furthest wall.
You barely get the chance to glance around before he’s dropping you onto the small window seat, right against the painted glass.
With a gasp, you collide with the cushion (which is admittedly much more comfortable than the floor), gazing up at him with surprise and wonder.
He says nothing. He can’t. He’s lost in his need for you – for your pleasure. Crouching down near your legs in order to reach for your panties and rip them from ankles. And once they’ve been tossed aside, he settles his body between your thighs, and surges forward.
His mouth is the closest to heaven you imagine you’ll ever get. Warm and wet and so expertly kind as he drags his tongue between your soaked, sensitive folds. Flicking at your clit before sucking it into his mouth with the kind of sound that makes your chest cave in.
“Har—” you whine, writhing a bit from the overstimulation and intensified pleasure. He’s chasing after your next orgasm before your first has even subsided, and it nearly wrecks you. “Shit, Harry—”
Still, he has no response. There’s no time or room to speak with the way he nips at your cunt before lowering. Letting his tongue slide inside you before pulling it back. Just enough to leave you squirming.
“Harry,” you try again, reaching out to card your fingers through his hair. Tugging with fervor until he does it again. “Fuck…please—”
His hands find your thighs. Pushing them open even further until you can feel the strain on your muscles from such a stretch.
He’s suffocating himself. Buried in your pussy, he takes whatever he wants. Greedily swallowing you down with lascivious groans and exhales of contentment. Fingers curling around your legs, leaving bruises along your sensitive skin.
He’s insatiable. Ignoring your cries and whimpers for mercy, instead pushing you back to the brink. Making you see stars before you can prepare yourself.
You’re all over his face. Can see yourself glisten off his chin and swollen lips, the stunning stained glass windows painting ethereal pictures of him on his knees. Taking you on his tongue as though his life depends on it.
He captures your clit between his teeth and tugs. Eliciting another wounded, pitiful noise as you slump against the glass.
The second orgasm is just as powerful as the first, if not more. Because this time, he’s actually touching you. Blowing on your clit the moment he sees you begin to unravel, effortlessly dragging you into more pleasure.
You scratch his scalp so hard, you’re surprised you don’t draw blood. Practically pulling him through you while you ride his tongue and the wave of euphoria until you come crashing back down to Earth.
“Oh, my god,” you whimper, features contorting with bliss. “Shit, H…please…please—”
But he’s far from through. Already licking the remnants of your orgasm from your quivering hole while you attempt to writhe away. The overstimulation almost painful as tears spring back to your eyes.
“Wait…wait, please,” you whisper, trying to recapture his attention by yanking on his curls and pushing your legs against his hands. “Baby, please…I need you. Need more, H…please.”
He looks up, and you see a glimmer of the moon in his eye. “What do you need more of? Hm? Tell me.”
You let your head drop back against the window, chest heaving beneath your thick sweater. “Har…can’t…I can’t, I need…need—”
“What?” he pushes. And you can hear the smug undertones as well as the reemergence of his cocky dimple. “What, baby? Tell Daddy what you need.”
And he knows what you need. He always knows, even before you do. But he wants to hear you say it. Wants to force the words from your mouth. Wants you to beg him for his cock.
With a heavy sigh, you answer, “You.”
“You already have me.”
You whine and toss your leg over his shoulder. Digging your heel into his spine to encourage him closer. “Need you to fuck me, H. Please…please, fuck me.”
His grin grows. “Well, well, well. Look at that. My sweet girl knows how to use her words after all.”
He crawls up to you, hands settling beside your hips as he leans forward.
“Doesn’t she?” he whispers, allowing his lips to ghost across yours. Teasing you with a taste of yourself.
You feel as though you’re drowning. Unable to capture enough air in your lungs to survive, and you throw your hands around his neck to yank him the remaining two inches.
His tongue feels like heaven against yours. A mix of you and him that you swallow greedily. Wanting more than he’s seeming to give you.
“Please,” you try again. Releasing the ask against his cheek before nuzzling your nose under his jaw. Intoxicated by the scent of him. “Harry…”
He doesn’t have much strength to refuse you. His willpower long forgotten as he quickly obliges and grabs onto your waist to yank you to the edge of the seat.
He then lifts your leg and sets it onto the cushion, bending it at the knee to create the angle he wants. Allowing him enough room to work while he grabs onto his cock and removes his boxers the rest of the way.
Hard and heavy in his hand, he guides the tip between your thighs. Dragging it down your clit almost tauntingly before slipping in. And it’s far too easy. He disappears into our pussy almost unintentionally. Allowing your warmth to draw him in and keep him inside you.
You can’t help the smile that stretches across your face.
“Shit,” he whispers when he feels the way your walls squeeze around his length. You might be used to his size, but those first few seconds are always euphoric. “There you go…you all right, Bee?”
You nod wordlessly, reaching out for his shoulders for something to hold onto.
“I know,” is all he says in response. Able to read your tells better than anyone ever has. “S’all right. I’ve got you.”
Once he’s fully inside of you, he offers a moment of relief. Settling there while his hands return to your hips to lift you up ever-so-slightly in order to use you the way he wants.
“Go,” you beg, nails drawing patterns down his back. “M’okay, go. Wanna feel you. Need to feel you cum.”
“Yeah?” He draws back before driving in. Hard enough to knock a gasp from your chest. “That’s what you want? Want Daddy’s cum in this pretty pussy?”
A blissful haze begins to cloud your vision. His sinfully sweet taunt ringing between your ears. Inciting an idea and a need you hadn’t thought possible.
“Oh…” When he realizes, that wicked look returns. “Oh, baby. You do, don’t you? Wanna be full of me. Want me to fill this sweet, little cunt until you’re dripping. Till I’m spilling out of you. All down your thighs. Down to the floor.”
You make another incoherent noise before succumbing to his hard thrusts. Falling mute and limp.
“Want me to lick it up…just to spit it down your throat,” he continues. “Want me everywhere. In your pussy…in your tummy. Just wanna be so fucking full of me.”
Every word from his mouth is crude and delicious. Designed to torture you and it works.
Because he’s right. You do want him everywhere. Want to feel him across every inch of your skin, inside every pore, dripping from every part of your body. Want to be stuffed with him. His tongue, his cock, his cum. There’s no part of this man you aren’t infatuated by.
“Say it,” he hisses, tugging your body up higher until he can slam into you from a different position. Finding that beautiful spot that makes your toes curl while you cry out and grab onto the seat beneath you for support. “Say how much you want my cum. Beg me for it.”
You can feel the sweat dripping down your back. Can feel the exhaustion in your limbs from having to contain so much pleasure.
And he’s careless yet practiced. Still gentle, even when he’s ramming his hips into yours. Nearly tearing you in half with the force of his cock, but with a sort of devotion you can’t explain. Even with such force, you feel relaxed.
Almost as if this is how you were always meant to be.
And then…something faint. Distant and familiar. The sound of voices – your friend’s voices, coming from somewhere inside the house.
For a moment, you worry you’ve been caught. That they’ve found you and are ready to run screaming from the house.
But you catch pieces of their conversation. Vague and somewhat confusing.
“—well, then, you check. I already tried—”
“—probably just looking around. Maybe they went back to their car—”
“—I’ll text her. They could be lost. This place is huge—”
They haven’t found you. In fact, it seems they’re still searching. Unaware that the two of you found the attic, and perhaps even unaware of the passageway, too.
Harry seems rather relaxed as he pauses just long enough to glance up. A look of understanding forming as he nods toward the ceiling.
You look, too.
The voices are coming from the vent. Echoing the conversation from somewhere else in the house as they walk through.
Your heart races. Because if you can hear them, that means…
He seems to consider this at the same time you do, head cocking deviously as he pulls back. “Shh,” he murmurs, thumb stroking your waist. “Gonna have to be extra quiet for me, okay?”
You take in another deep breath, another whine already bubbling up the back of your throat.
But he realizes this almost instantly. Hand coming up to press against your mouth and muffle your pathetic cry before you can make it. “Uh-uh,” he hisses, attempting to chastise but you can tell he’s amused. “Said no, Bee. Need you quiet or I stop.”
But he can’t stop. You can’t let him stop. You think if he stops, you might die. That you’ll disappear into nothing and spend the rest of your life chasing something only he can offer.
Instead, you grab onto his wrist, and keep it against your lips. Using it as an excuse to whimper against his palm and promise your attempt at silence.
And maybe he’s unconvinced. But he’s just as desperate as you are. To finish and find that serenity. To feel each other in every sense of the word.
So he takes your vow of obedience and continues. Resuming his thrusts as the sounds of voices slowly begin to fade away.
You’re brought right back to the precipice of pleasure. Reminded yet again of why you’d do anything for him. Why he’s so addicting. Not just because of his body…but because his heart.
Shades of blue, red, yellow, and purple explode across the walls and across your eyelids. The colors rich and vibrant, accentuated by the bright glow of the moon.
And you can see him perfectly. Can see his stunningly structured face. The ridge of his nose, the sharp edge of his jaw. The damp curls that lay across his forehead and the rosy skin of his cheeks.
You know he’s always been handsome. Not just to you, but to everyone.
But now…he’s ethereal. Because he’s not just some guy. He’s not just Harry. He’s the man you love. The only true home for your soul. Your comfort place, your future.
Your everything.
And that’s what makes him so beautiful.
When he notices your stare, something shifts. He drops his hand, and surges forward to kiss you. Throwing a stutter in his rhythm as he laces his tongue with yours.
“Shit,” is all you manage to make out of his hushed moans. “Gonna give you everything, Bee. Gonna fill you. Keep my cum inside you forever. Fucking forever, baby. M’yours. Always.”
You can feel yourself clenching down on him. Already approaching your third before he’s even allowed himself a first. It’s a trait of his you’ve noticed he exhibits quite often. Perhaps it’s a masochistic practice or perhaps it’s his nature to want your orgasms over his own. Waiting until he’s sure you’re taken care of before he allows himself to find relief.
Yet another one of these little things you’d be lost without.
When he realizes just how close you are, he leans back and brings his lips together. Spitting directly onto your clit before bringing his fingers into play.
“There,” he grits, inflicting quick circles against the tender, swollen nerves that make you whine. “That’s all it takes, isn’t it?”
Your body answers for you. You’re nothing but a string of noises and twitching muscles. Dissolving into your orgasm until that’s all you are. Just his victory. His perfect prize to be claimed.
You feel him watch you. Infatuated with the way you tense and squirm before you finally settle back against the glass to catch your breath.
And perhaps that’s what does it for him. Not just feeling you cum but seeing it. The physical proof of your passion written so visibly across your face. The way you soak his cock, the way you drip down onto the seat below, the way you cling to him.
He chases that sensation. Chases the way it makes him feel and the release it promises him.
It doesn’t take long for him to finish now that he’s not holding himself back. A few quick but hard thrusts and he’s spilling himself into your pussy with a low groan, face burying into your neck.
He holds you still through every second. As close as he possibly can, even after you’re sure he’s finished.
The emotional orgasm feels just as overwhelming as the physical one. You can’t help but wrap your arms around his body to hold him against your heart. Listening to the sounds of his strained breaths before they slowly even out.
And he’s so happy. You know he is. Refusing to move as his cum sits inside of you. Wanting to keep it there like he promised.
You want to keep him the same way.
“Fuck,” you hear him whisper. It seems unintelligible curse words are about all the two of you have to offer in moments like this. It makes you smile. “Think I came so hard, I blacked out.”
You giggle at this, moving to hook your leg around his middle. “I’m glad you came. Feels good.”
He turns his head so his cheek can rest on your shoulder. “Yeah? S’my cum feel nice? All warm inside you?”
And there’s something about the way he says it. Soft but secure. Teasing you and caring for you all in the same breath.
You hum.
“Got it all snug inside your little pussy, baby?” He presses a kiss to your neck. A reassuring gesture meant to reward you. “Gonna keep it for me?”
You nod fervently before clinging onto his body a bit tighter. Feeling a shiver roll down your spine – either from the cold or his response. Truthfully, you aren’t sure.
“Hmm. That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, slipping an arm around your waist in order to hold you closer. Hugging you, almost, as he settles in your embrace. “Guess we better get going, hm?”
But you don’t like this idea. Already feeling your expression fall into a desolate pout as you suck in a sharp inhale and cement yourself to his larger frame.
He senses this shift – this refusal – and stills. “What? What’s wrong?”
You don’t have an answer. You suppose nothing is wrong, per se…as long as he doesn’t leave.
“Bee,” he tries again, a bit firmer. The singular nickname laced with apprehension. “Lovey, what happened, what's wrong? You know you have to talk to me, okay? Have to communicate with me—”
“Nothing,” you whisper, cutting his bargaining short. “Nothing, I just…don’t want you to go, Daddy.”
A brief pause. Silent and filled with an unspoken tension that melts into something tender. “Bee, I’m not going anywhere. Just wanna clean you up and hold you a bit. Like we always do. That’s all right, isn’t it?”
You consider this. You do love when he holds you. Especially when he runs his hands down your sore limbs. Massaging the aches away while keeping you safe in his arms.
The mere thought makes you sigh. “Promise?”
He squeezes your hip. “Always, baby.”
With that, you unhook yourself from his body, and allow him to move back. Taking himself from you almost painfully before he’s putting himself away and moving for your clothes.
He finds your underwear and both pairs of jeans, bringing them back to you almost respectfully.
He helps you step into them, securing your panties around your waist with an impish wink and a soft, “Gonna save it for later, yeah?”
Once you’re both dressed again, he fits himself between you and the window, and places you in the middle of his lap. Your back against his chest while his palms sweep up and down your arms, easing the pains away.
“Was that okay?” he asks after a quiet moment of reflection. “Did you like what we did?”
You drop your focus down to his hands. To the way they look on your body. You hum. Say nothing.
In turn, he shifts, attempting to sneak a glimpse of the side of your face. “Bee, d’you hear me?”
Still, you’re silent. Trailing your finger along his knuckles and over his wrist. Entranced by him. Hypnotized.
He uses this very hand to reach for your jaw. Squeezing it just hard enough to capture your attention and turn your face to his. “Baby, you’re scaring me. Are you all right?”
You feel your frown return, chest tightening with the implication. “Scared? Why are you scared? What…what did I do?”
There’s a subtle pull in his eyebrows. Almost imperceptible but you manage to catch it before it smooths away. “Nothing, sweet girl. But I want to make sure you’re okay. That I didn’t hurt you or take things too far. And if I did, I want to know. I need to know.”
“Daddy, you never hurt me. Ever.” The frown intensifies, nearly taking control of your whole face. “Don’t say that, it makes me sad.”
Again, a flash of confusion and subtle recognition streaks behind his soft gaze. “Daddy just wants to make sure you’re feeling all right. That you feel safe and comfortable with me. Now…and before.”
“Of course I do. Always feel comfortable with you.”
You imagine he should feel relieved to hear this, and yet he sighs as he releases your jaw. “Oh, baby.”
It’s heavy the way he speaks. Akin to disappointment, but there’s a touch of sadness. Perhaps even understanding.
It breeds a constriction in your chest that feels like a snake coiling around your lungs. “What…what did I do? Did I say something wrong?”
“No,” he’s quick to whisper, tightening his hold on you. “God, no, sweet girl. Just realized something, that’s all.”
A tad reassured, you straighten up. “Oh? What?”
He nuzzles his cheek against your temple and pulls you even further into his chest. “Nothing bad, I promise. Just that I need to take extra good care of you right now.”
“Really?
He nods. “Mhm. So, what do you think, lovey, hm? Should we go home? Think we’ve done enough exploring for one day.”
Your lashes flutter, a bit startled by the switch. “We…you wanna leave?”
“I do. I wanna take you home and hold you. Properly,” he says gently, laying a chaste kiss to your forehead. “We can take a bath, get all nice and warm again. Know it’s getting cold, isn’t it?”
Truthfully, you hadn’t realized the drastic drop in temperature. But with this mention, you feel a noticeable chill dancing across the room. Can feel your breath grow icier as it leaves your lips.
“And once we’re warm again, we can crawl into bed, and just stay,” he continues. “Watch a movie, eat some snacks. Do whatever you wanna do, baby. S’that sound good?”
And it does. It sounds like heaven. Anything with him always does. “Can we please?”
He grins again before kissing your temple again. “Of course. We’ll head out now. Think you can walk or do you need my help?”
Your legs do feel a bit wobbly, but in all honesty, the idea of having him hold you all the way down is what you really want. To make sure he doesn’t take himself from you, even if you’re merely walking to the car.
Your innocent pout is answer enough, and he chuckles. “Want my help, don’t you?”
Nodding eagerly, you sit up, allowing him to slip back out from behind you and stand. Once he has, he takes your hand and pulls you to your feet, making sure to steady you when you feel a bit rocky before leading you toward the stairs.
You leave the heavenly room behind, bidding the stunning shadows adieu as you disappear down the dark stairwell.
And you hope, if there are ghosts, that they enjoyed the show.
After you’ve returned to the spare room on the first floor, Harry strides over to the bookshelf, and tilts the Frankenstein book back just like he had before. Prompting the portrait to slide closed in the same manner as it had when it opened. Hiding the secret staircase away for the next wandering couple.
Then, he turns to you. “All right, baby, let’s go.”
He crouches down, signaling that he’d like you to climb onto his back again, and you do rather giddily. Cementing yourself to his spine as you cling to him like a koala bear, allowing him to lead you back out into the main part of the house.
You find your friends already waiting by the door, talking casually until they see you coming out from the shadows.
You feel Harry squeeze your ankles as a sign of encouragement and you sigh to yourself while cuddling closer.
“Where the hell have you been, we’ve been looking everywhere,” Jackie calls. “You just left me with these dipshits.”
Harry chuckles. “Sorry. Got a bit lost and then we started talking. Did you find the attic?”
“No,” Charlie huffs, and he sounds rather offended. “I don’t think there is an attic. Think Caleb’s just full of shit.”
“I’m telling you, it’s there,” Caleb argues. “Other people have gone up, I just don’t know how they found it.”
“Huh. Weird,” Harry muses, and you have to turn your face away to hide your smirk. “Well, listen, I think we’re gonna head out. But this was fun. Thanks for the invite.”
“Aw, really? Already? We thought maybe we’d head over to Waffle House or something,” Jackie tells you. “You know, eat a shit ton of whipped cream and syrup in the spirit of Halloween.”
To this, Harry smiles, glancing back at you as if to check for permission and see if you’re interested. But you can’t really offer him much else except a shy grin, which he seems to understand.
“I think we’re just gonna turn in for the night,” he says instead. “But you guys have fun. We’ll have to do this again for Christmas.”
The other three laugh as you call your goodbyes and allow Harry to carry you to the car.
He sets you down by the passenger door in order to unlock it and swing it open. And once it is, he’s still ever the gentleman, helping you sit and making sure you’re buckled in before shutting the door and jogging over to his side.
As he fumbles with his keys and gets the engine started, your eyes trail up toward the top of the large mansion before you. Finding those beautiful windows once more as you bid them goodbye as well.
You feel Harry’s hand slip around yours, recapturing your attention as you look over and catch his grin. “You ready?”
You nod and squeeze his palm three times. “Mhm. Always.”
Pleased, he brings your knuckles to his lips. Leaving a lingering kiss that nearly takes your breath away. “Happy Halloween, Bee.”
And your heart has never felt so full.
“Happy Halloween, Harry.”
HAPPY HALLOWEEN 🧡🧡🧡 (or just regular old Tuesday)!!! Thank you so much for joining me for Freaky Fun and for being so kind and supportive!!! You all have my heart!! Have a safe, wonderful night filled with laughs and amazing treats!! 😭♥️
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One thing this episode really lingered on is just how much The Owl House is a story about stories -- fandom, and stories told within stories, and breaking the mold to write your own, new one, and history as a narrative and parallels to the past, but also not being beholden to repeat them.
It's Luz stumbling into a magical world and deciding to stay because of the stories she loves. It's Eda telling her there are no chosen ones there, but stories turning out to having real power even when chosen ones don't. It's Luz and Amity having their first real bonding moment in a library, battling a book that came to life. It's Azura bringing them together. It's Luz learning about Philip Wittebane first through the false, polished, carefully curated story he wrote about himself in his diary. It's Eda telling Luz and King the story of how she met Raine before they're ever able to meet them. It's the repeating cycle of grimwalkers, constructed to play roles in a story they were never privy to. It's Caleb only ever being shown through glimpses and snatches of the narrative that swallowed him up, but being present all the same. It's Gus and Hunter stumbling upon Camila's old favorite series and connecting to it the same way she did (and then some). It's the constant meta jokes about various books the characters love mirroring the show. It's the kids on a haunted hayride being told about the Wittebane brothers like they're a ghost story, except they know they were real -- and who the real monster was.
It's meeting your girlfriend because of fandom. It's the book series your dad gifted to you just before he died that brought you much-needed comfort at the time, and so much more in the future. It's looking deep inside and saying "Stories help me be the person I want to be" and "You want me to repeat the way this happened in the past, but I refuse" and "Stories help us remember those who are gone."
It's Luz finally stepping back into the Demon Realm dressed as Azura, the character that lead her there in the first place, at the end of the beginning of the end of the show's own story.
It's about how stories can save your life.
#a theme that consistently fucks me up in the best way#the owl house#toh spoilers#f: us weirdos have to stick together
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I did it. i committed. I wrote a fic. here's a banner for chapter 1 heh
Its Called "Bone of Ortet"
Its more or a less me diving into how I think Caleb's story continues even after he's dead. So he's basically a ghost throughout the whole thing. Ig its technically an AU cause i might add my own story changes.
First Chapter - Caleb's wakes up after losing the knife fight and wonders what the hell just happened (he dont realize he dead) (spoiler: he loses his shit)
(THIS IS MY FIRST FIC IM SO FREAKING NERVOUS AAAA)
Spoilers art under cut (kinda but not really)
(the random dude is Evelyn's brother btw
#the owl house#toh#caleb wittebane#evelyn clawthorne#emperor belos#philip wittebane#toh flapjack#caleb x evelyn#flapjack toh#i am cringe but i am free#I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE#*vomits from nervousness
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The scenes towards the end of the finale were like an intersection of multiple characters experiencing the loss of father figures, in different shades:
Luz's relationship to her late father took on a different form, after King's own father passed on and his glyph magic was gone for good. Manny gifting her the Azura books before his death, and Papa Titan offering her glyph magic before he too passed on, helped Luz find her place in the world and defeat Belos.
Apparently this scene is what made Sarah Nicole-Robles bawl in the recording studio, right after she recorded the lines.
When these changes happen - when we experience the loss of a person, when our ties with them are wrangled into a new form, against our will - it can be devastatingly painful. Change and transformation make for fancy, dramatic scenes in fiction, and they always incur loss in some form, painful or not. It also made me so emotional when seeing how much 18-year-old Luz resembles Manny, and how her enrolment in the university is linked to both her biological father and Papa Titan.
King's experience of seeing the majesty of his father, however brief, left him in awe and exhilaration. He can rest in the beautiful knowledge that Papa Titan was watching over him the whole time too. The message that his dad left him, relayed by Luz, is something he'll hold dear forever.
Hunter will never be truly harmed by Belos ever again. But he can't discard the memories of Belos granting him attachment: even if the attachment ended up not being real in a sense. However, like what can be applied in real-life therapy, he can get guidance on how to rescript those memories.
Belos's lies about having good intentions don't change how it felt real to Hunter all those years ago. Hunter was a young child when receiving this 'love', and in a twisted way...the mission given to him by Belos kept him alive up till he could escape the Coven, because the mission gave his life meaning despite the circumstances being awfully terrible. A child cannot survive without attachment, and needs attachment even if the experience of attachment has been horrendous and scarring. And holy Titan don't get me started on how at age 16 (before the timeskip), he had yet to learn more grisly details about his predecessors - whom he might view as older brothers and fathers whom he never met - and the generational trauma in his Golden Guard family tree:
which would have definitely been explored before he could experience that amazing hard-won serenity and peace at age 20.
Even Philip's arc is inextricably tied to his manner of coping with how he murdered Caleb, who was the closest thing he had to a father, given how these two brothers were orphans. In the end, Philip meets his end while Luz gazes upon him the same way Caleb's ghost did. Philip won't be haunted by Caleb's ghost again, and he joins the person who was essentially his father figure in death. Till the very end, he was projecting onto another person because he didn't want to recognize the same traits in himself. He was the one responsible for his father figure's death.
But grief doesn't mean the relationships in question have ended altogether. It's kind of like what this post about the finale (link) says, and it even extends to the relationship between us fans and the show itself.
The cliché "5 Stages of Grief" is the most commonly mentioned grief model, but I follow the development and advocacy of a newer perspective on grief that challenges it. In fact, the 5 Stages was originally just intended for terminally ill patients, but it was taken out of proportion. I began a serious investigation into the newer models after I went through something that parallels Hunter losing Flapjack...eerily, it happened to me two weeks before TTT's release date. No wonder I feel so close to Hunter as a blorbo, I guess.
Unlike what the 5 Stages of Grief says, grief and linear time don't mix well. Without "stages" to follow, there isn't an expectation of some deadline or permanent end of a tunnel in the newer models. Such pressure wouldn't be honoring the sacredness of connections between us. Instead, less famous grief perspectives like the dual-process model and continuing bonds model, are a better fit to honor relationships that mattered, since they aren't given an expiry date.
I wonder how Luz would be feeling on the day she graduates from the Wild Magic University, and how King feels each time he unlocks his own new glyphs since he is the new Titan to supply the Isles with magic. And I wonder how Hunter felt when his coven sigil was replaced with the Flapjack tattoo, and how he feels when he sees the Gravesfield town seal and Wittebane statues.
There are ways in which they can get creative to integrate their grief (notice I didn't say "get rid of", "remove", "erase" or even "manage"...the pain is what is to be managed, not the grief itself) the best they can. In canon, we have examples such as the Hexsquad agreeing to get their Flapjack tattoos together. Luz letting go of the light glyph sheet here:
is also a fantastic representation of rituals like sending off a message in a bottle at a beach, tying a message to a balloon and letting it fly away (this happened in Reaching Out, didn't it?), or burning a message in a campfire to let it float up towards the sky in the form of embers.
It is a common recommendation to have exercises like letter-writing where the griever writes to the lost loved one. What many may not know is you can also do the reverse: you writing as your lost loved one, to yourself. Because the griever takes a piece of the lost loved one with them, that the griever has shaped within themselves. This is especially good if you need to extend forgiveness to yourself. An example from a book called Bearing the Unbearable:
The author felt responsible for the stillbirth of her child, but had a "happy accident" where she intuitively asked for forgiveness and then received it, by invoking the love that her child would have shown to her in a world where said child had remained alive.
I think Hunter in particular could benefit from something like this, writing to himself as the uncle whom he saw as genuine and nurturing, and gaining ownership of that part of him even though Belos was a liar and is now gone for good. It can help him move forward especially since he won't be spared from nightmares in which his loss is re-enacted. With this kind of rescripting, historical accuracy doesn't actually need to matter. After all, our own minds lie to us at times and mess with historical accuracy anyway, like Luz's thoughts telling her she was as bad as Belos, and how true that felt.
A physical loved one is lost to death, and it can feel just as painful - only in a different way - if people become estranged or separated without a literal death having occurred. But the connection to them isn't lost, it is only adapted. The bond continues. For better or worse.
I believe the pain in grieving is connected to each moment when we remember all over again that the one we loved isn't coming back.
It's like the needle of a gramophone getting stuck in the loop of an unpleasant-sounding record scratch noise. It's a bit like what C.S. Lewis says in his book A Grief Observed: "In each of my friends there is something that only some other friend can fully bring out." I can't find the other part but he later said something like, therefore if a friendship is lost, the part of you that only that friend could bring out, is also lost. Something in you is locked away forever, though new things can also be unlocked after the loss.
It wasn't shown onscreen but I wouldn't be surprised if it's regular for Luz to come across a meme and be freshly reminded of her dad's absence, because she can't show him that meme. King would be wishing that a new funny cat video he discovers is something his dad could also laugh at along with him. Hunter would be hoping that Flapjack, the previous Golden Guards and Caleb are watching as he brings back palismen.
Bereavement, and any grief that is significant enough to alter our personhood forever, are the forms of love that can never really grasp how time flows in a linear way. They can't be reasoned with, only experienced.
"...the howling at the center of grief is raw and real. It is love in its most wild form" - Megan Devine.
#I'm applying some of this to how I'm grieving the end of the show. our relationship with it has just changed..not ended#toh analysis#the owl house#luz noceda#king clawthorne#toh hunter#philip wittebane#caleb wittebane#manny noceda#papa titan#grief in The Owl House#loz writes a meta#death mention
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[Transcript under the cut]
WG: hi
Gunther: hi uh- sorry if i woke you up or something. i felt like calling. i don't know.
WG: nah i was just… hanging. what's up?
Gunther: ah uh- well. we're cutting our honeymoon short. Lilith had one of those really bad nightmares yesterday and she insists on going back with the kids.
WG: seriously? it's not even been a whole week yet
Gunther: it's that bad. i've never seen her this alarmed before
Gunther: so uh- yeah. make sure to get Garrett from Caleb's before tomorrow night? please? she really needs the kids around.
WG: yeah yeah. ahah. Bluma's gonna hate that
Gunther: speaking of, i'm standing in the shore in my underwear because i want a starfish or something colorful and or shiny for said little lady. the sand feels horrible in my feet, i have to add.
Gunther: how is she?
WG: oh yeah. it's disgusting.
WG: and she's doing excellent. Everything's excellent in fact; Bluma made a friend and Garry's first steps were right in front of me
Gunther: …i'd need you to be more specific before i yell
WG: i'm half joking. The house you and grandpa got includes a big freaking haunted maze, you geniuses.
Gunther: what.
WG: okay. I'll make a sum up.
Gunther: i'd prefer all the details
WG: so are these forever or…?
Caleb: oh no, nonono. well. not unless he learns or wants to control his mind controlling powers.
Morgyn: if you ask me it' be fantastic to just glue those sunglasses on him
WG: are you kidding? Garry's sick little powers could make us RICH
Morgyn: and how exactly you plan on doing that?
WG: dunno. infant robbery? i'm sure he'd love that
Morgyn: my godness.
Bluma: the world has gone insane! all crazy! why'd they bring Garry back?!
Bluma: not fair… and you! Jojo! Jojo why won't you sleep in the bed i made for your little body!
Jojo: meow
Bluma: i even gave you your own light because you've been on that basement for so long you must be scared of the dark!
Jojo: mrow…
Bluma: your- did your last owner let you sleep on his bed? is that why you don't like yours?
Bluma: …what happened to them anyways? i saw the picture.
Bluma: wish your kitty paws knew how to write… but i can't even read well either
Gunther: hello my little flower
Bluma: papa!!!
Bluma: dad i missed you so much! so many things happened i really wanted you to see!
Gunther: i know darling your uncle told me everything
Bluma: all of it?
Gunther: in big detail, yes. Even about your Jojo
Gunther: how's he not dead?
Bluma: dunno!
Gunther: we need to get him checked in every way possible. The basement too, good lord. Garlic down there?
Bluma: and ghosts! my kitty radio the Goth lady made spirit-y played a lot of music on it's own!
Gunther: oh god
Bluma: yes!!
Gunther: now what are YOU so excited about
Bluma: daaad!!!
Gunther: …Bluma darling, there's something we need to talk about.
#WEEEEE PAPA IS BACK#ts4#ts4 story#munch#wolfgang munch#gunther munch#caleb vatore#morgyn ember#bluma vatore#jojo the cat#garry vatore
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Random, but I gotta get this out before me head explodes:
So, I had a dream of how King's Tide would end. Let's say that everything worked as it did, except Collector took away Belos's powers and turned him back into a human. Somehow, during all the madness, Luz and Belos end up getting knocked into the portal. Ofc, it's only there for one trip. The pain of the Draining Spell has already been reversed by the Collector. Luz is panicking and Belos is slightly joyful about being in the Human Realm, but then immediately gets pissed when he realized his work was never done. His staff got pushed inside the portal by Collector, so he uses it again. She tries to persuade him all "Hey, hey! You wouldn't shoot a defenseless, small, teenage....." She then stops when she sees Belos raise an eyebrow at her and dashes off into the woods.
Luz continues running away as Belos chases after her, shooting more of the artificial magic at her as she tries to get away. She goes towards a road and continues to run across it, hoping to lose him. However, everything suddenly becomes slow as a truck begins speeding toward her. Luz simply turns her head towards the headlights and her eyes widen, making her think that her life can't end here. It just can't! Not with everyone suffering in the Demon Realm.
As the truck tries to brake, Luz suddenly levitates and gets pulled back to the side of the road. She breathes heavily as she holds onto whoever's arm is around her and turns to see Belos, staring in complete shock. He doesn't know what else to say except "What is....*that*?" Luz then looks back at the truck as the driver comes out and profusely apologizes to her and her "grandfather". She takes a deep breath and asks Belos "So....still need that guide?"
This is how the two slowly get to know each other and somewhat bond. They get close but in a frenemy kind of way. Like you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours kind of truce. Belos teaches Luz more about the sigils, while Luz teaches Belos about the Earth.
Belos's biases get challenged as he learns more about how Earth has changed and even Luz's gets challenged, as she learns slowly about Belos's past. Even though she does not forgive him, she understands that it's not like her books. It's not nearly as straight and narrow as it is to say someone's evil. There were complexities and reasons for actions, none justifiable but still. It makes things more complicated for her when she realizes that anyone can go down this path.
....Insert people loving Belos's staff and cosplay x3
Idk if ANY of this makes any sense or even is remotely good. But it sounds like fun and a way to get to know a more "human" Belos. He probably would still die in the end, but I feel like it would come from a sense of closure than defeat. Plus, bonus suffering when they get back as he tries to kill Luz once more after the Collector takes over him, but then stops when he sees Caleb's ghost protecting her.
#the owl house#long post#toh headcanon#toh#toh au#luz noceda#philip wittebane#emperor belos#tour guide au
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I hate to be a hater, frankly I was really annoyed by haters of the kenobi show, whom I found were being mad at the most random things,
But with the Ahsoka show ending, I find myself sympathising.
Firstly I'd like to say the Actors, cinematographers, cgi artists, sound designers, musicians, costumers and literally everyone in post and pre production, did some of the best work I've ever seen on a show.
But unfortunately they were working on a script thinner than the paper it's on.
This series feels like the first draft that has glaring flaws.
Firstly, why are the two premises :Ahsoka grows from her trauma; and the ghost crew find ezra and thrawn linked?
They barely interacted in rebels and the only one she had a relationship with is dead (rip Caleb)
Secondly why the fuck is sabine a jedi, it took away from her character and just repeated the same arc we've seen a thousand times.
And most importantly theres already so many deep stories you can tell with any of the ghost crew w/o Ahsoka in this era like:
A grieving war hero general trying to navigate new Republic beuracracy to protect people while being a single mom to a force sensitive kid in a dangerous galaxy.
A guilt ridden mandalorian artist, who's secluded herself from the galaxy trying to complete a fools errand while running away from her past in which she inadvertently lead mandalore to its doom.
A once-lost lasat from his people and a repentant ex-imperial who almost destroyed said people and trying to make his way in that society while possibly falling in love
A Grand Admiral who always had relied on cold logic landing on a planet of witchcraft, with a boy who had defeated him through devilry which caused the boy to lose both his families just to protect his people and a chance to save the Galaxy from the admirals misplaced alliegences.
Like tell me all these stories couldn't have been told amazingly, with love and care, in an animated show, which wasn't wrapped up in the story of an unrelated character who's the main character for some reason.
Heck Ahsoka could've been given a better story herself where the plot could focus just on her and her important relationships with you know, Rex or Barriss?? Not just Anakin. And maybe tell us where she was in the original trilogy.
#star wars#ahsoka show#ahsoka negativity#star wars rebels#ahsoka tano#ezra bridger#hera syndulla#sabine wren#rebels#swr#sw rebels#star wars the clone wars#negativity#rant#review#garazeb orrelios#alexsandr kallus#kalluzeb#thrawn#mithrawnarudo
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thinking way too hard about this page from kanan: the last padawan and how much it shows about him as a character during rebels and also how that relates to ezra and their sacrifices at the end of the show
it's clear from the first episode of rebels that kanan has no qualms about attachment in general, which is a stark difference from most of the other jedi that we see. he cares freely and openly and deeply about all the members of the ghost crew. he might care too much at the beginning, but that's part of his journey as a jedi that we see throughout the show.
"you must not grow too attached, too fond, too in love with life as it is now" is a fundamental thing that kanan must remember during season 2 of rebels. because he DID become too attached to his life as it was with the ghost crew running around lothal, and when they join up with the larger rebel fleet, he doesn't like it and dislikes how things are changing. he has to relearn the ability to adapt and change before he's declared a jedi knight in the season 2 finale.
part of being a jedi is loving enough to know when it's time to go, which is something that kanan mastered. he and ezra leave at the end of season 2 to protect the rest of the rebellion, he teaches ezra to let sabine go with her family on mandalore, he helps hera reconcile with her past on ryloth. through love and attachment, kanan also learned sacrifice. he lost everything as he became kanan jarrus instead of caleb dume. he was forced to leave behind all the attachments of his former life in order to survive. he didn't learn to do that necessarily, he was forced into it out of necessity, which is very different than him consciously learning how to let go during rebels.
in rebels, kanan leaves by choice. in season 2, he knows that leaving is necessary to the survival of the rebellion. in season 4, he's standing on top of the fuel tank and holding back the explosion and he probably wants nothing more than to try and go with hera, ezra, and sabine. because that's his FAMILY. he loves them more than anything, but he knows that if he does not let go, they will not survive.
so he does. he sees them one last time, and then he lets them go and sacrifices himself to save them all, and in a way, this was the last lesson he ever taught ezra
its no secret that their sacrifices were meant to mirror each other, but here's the images again for reference
in his final moments, kanan teaches ezra about sacrifice. yes, you must love and feel and experience life, but to be a jedi knight, you must be able to master those feelings and do what you must for the greater good. in his actions, kanan was essentially repeating what depa told him when he was a padawan. "you must not grow too attached, too fond, too in love with life as it is now. those emotions are valuable and must not be surpressed, but you must learn to rule them lest they rule you". ezra fully learns that lesson during "the world between worlds" when he leaves the memory of kanan's death behind in the world between worlds and learns to stop his attachment from going too far.
and also like...kanan's life had FINALLY worked out when he died. hera just said that she loved him, they're back on lothal ready to free their home from the empire, he's figured out this whole jedi thing, and he may or may not know that hera is pregnant with their child depending on your interpretation. but he must let go. he cannot let his love and attachment stop him from doing what must be done for the greater good. he saves them, but he also leads to the empire blowing up their own fuel depot, which is the only reason the rebels can take back lothal. he put his purpose (saving the galaxy) over his feelings (because there was definitely a part of him screaming to go with his family, but he was able to control it in order to see the bigger picture)
the jedi fight for peace and the greater good, which at it's core requires immense selflessness and sacrifice and a clear head acting on logic rather than emotion. kanan and ezra were learning that together throughout the whole show, and one last time, kanan teaches ezra a jedi lesson that he finally figured out through trying to guide ezra through it
"but remember, caleb, the galaxy is far from static, and as it changes, a jedi's role in it too must evolve." jedi were keepers of the peace, then they were generals, then they were scattered teenagers who didn't know what to do in the wake of order 66, and now? now they are rebel fighters, once again getting at the heart of what it is to be a jedi. to be a jedi is to love, to sacrifice, to keep the peace. kanan and ezra show why jedi are KNIGHTS and not diplomats. they fight for peace, but they know it is just that: a bloody, brutal, violent fight, and that those fights require sacrifice in order to keep going. they both embody luthen's line from andor where he says "i burn my life for a sunrise i will never get to see", which is also a perfect way to think about why the jedi fight for peace. they really believe in it, and are willing to lay down their lives to make a peace that will never be achieved in their lifetimes.
(what's also crazy is that in this episode, we're essentially shown that kanan jarrus has found caleb dume again and therefore reconnected with his jedi past but that's a post for a whole other day)
i have so many feelings about this that basically boil down to: rebels is so well written and so underrated and kanan and ezra teach us far more about what the ideal jedi should be than any of the skywalker saga main characters (WHICH IS A VERY HOT TAKE I KNOW but it's my take)
#i am so normal about the shatterpoint lineage#and also kanan and ezra's sacrifices#totally and completely normal#star wars#star wars rebels#sw rebels#swr#kanan jarrus#caleb dume#ezra bridger#depa billaba#kanan: the last padawan#jedi knights#jedi code#i also love thinking about the jedi code#and how different characters interpret it#so maybe i'll post more things like this
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The Thing about Belos Nobody Mentions
There's an aspect of Belos I haven't seen anyone talk about yet: him potentially being on the schizophrenia spectrum, or schizospec for short, and everything that means.
Before you say anything, I am a schizoaffective person. This is my interpretation. This is based off my own experiences with this disorder, and my own research.
Analysis and rant under the cut:
=ANALYSIS=
So this all started when I learned that one of the color design pieces had Caleb and the grimwalkers labelled "Golden Guard Illusion".
Artists credited in the image itself.
It's weird to me that they're labeled as illusions and not hallucinations, because the latter is what the ghosts actually are. Illusions are images your brain distorts based off something that's there, while hallucinations are images your brain creates from nothing.
The fact that these ghosts are actually hallucinations of Belos and not real ghosts doesn't say a whole lot about Belos on its own, because anyone can hallucinate if they experience intense enough negative emotions. But you'll see why I think there's something more to this.
Following this lead, I rewatched the scene where Papa Titan talks to Luz in the In-Between realm in the series finale. After Luz asks him whether her motivation to save her friends and family makes her just as bad as Belos, she tells her:
"Well, you assume Belos' goal comes from a genuine place. But that man doesn't care about anything but his need to be the hero in his own delusion."
Let me give you a short lesson about delusions in the context of schizospec disorders:
Delusions are firmly held beliefs that the person experiencing can't be convinced aren't true. This can be extremely serious and life-threatening, such as as believing all your food's been poisoned. But it can also be harmless; it really depends on the delusion.
The type of delusion referenced here would be a delusion of grandeur, which is a real thing in schizospec disorders. Such delusions can be serious, like believing you're the second coming of god, or more harmless, like believing you're better than others.
Taking both the hallucinations and the delusion into mind, it's very possible that Belos has some kind of schizospec disorder.
=RANT=
Let's talk about that scene where Belos goes to the grimwalker cave.
Notice how the hallucinations are played for laughs? That's problematic.
Hallucinations are not something you can just tell to "shut up" and they'll go away. Hallucinations are not things you can interact with. There's already other media with this problem, such as A Beautiful Mind, but the fact that it's in a show that's supposed to be celebrating neurodivergence is hypocritical.
Let's briefly go back to that Papa Titan quote.
See how he used the word "delusion" to describe Belos' motivation?Yeah, that's really problematic in the schizospec community.
As mentioned before, delusions can be life threatening, so tossing that word around like it's nothing is really frustrating and insulting. The show should have used a word like "fantasy" to get its point across more effectively if it was implying that Belos has a hero complex.
Continuing this train of thought, it gets worse when you consider how Papa Titan- and in essence the narrative- is essentially ridiculing Belos for experiencing a very intense delusion.
Delusions are not something a schizospec person can control.
I've already seen the fandom mocking Belos for this quality. It was one of those awful memes with the caption "schizophrenia," and had audio of markiplier doing a bit where he was bantering with an "inner voice". Such memes are awful because they're not real experiences schizospec people go through. They're assumptions about our experiences non-schizospec people make about us.
That would be the worst of it, but no, it gets far worse when you consider a few things:
Belos is the main antagonist.
That would be annoying enough, considering the plethora of mentally ill villains in media, but nope. The narrative also treats him as this purely evil being who is incapable of any good whatsoever.
Which, OK.
It's possible for a schizospec person to be a monster. But the fact that the only schizospec representation we have is either of us as helpless victims, or as irredeemable monsters, is infuriating.
Belos is clearly meant to be a foil to Luz.
Which, congrats to the show for having a neurodivergent lead, but let me tell you about some of the hardships schizospec people face:
In real life, schizospec people are cast out of mental health advocacy groups. Schizospec people are treated as subhuman by doctors and psychiatrists. Schizospec people are demonized and vilified by society. Schizospec people are denied jobs and housing.
With all this in mind the fact the narrative chooses to glorify a character with the "right," the "acceptable," kind of neurodivergence while berating a character with the "scary," the "monstrous," kind of neurodivergence is absolutely disgusting.
=CONCLUSION=
I feel like it has to be said that I am not condoning Belos' actions, or trying to woobify him.
Belos, as a person, was terrible. No amount of mental illness tacked onto him will excuse any of his actions.
I'm also not trying to imply that schizospec characters can't be evil. I'm just saying that it's extremely tiresome that the only representation we get is either us as victims or as villains.
To conclude all of this, please, do your research before adding something like this into your story.
#long post#rant post#toh critical#toh criticism#belos#toh belos#emperor belos#philip wittebane#toh philip wittebane
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So, the other day I rewatched FtF and one thing that has struck me as odd, even all the way back to when it first aired was Caleb's ghost.
Whether it was really there or a figment of Belos' imagination is up for debate, but what I specifically want to talk about is its design. It does look very ghost-like, in shades of white and gray, looking all skinny with the large eye bags, the bloody knife above his head and even the mark on his shirt from the stab wound. Everything about it referencing the day Caleb died except for one thing:
His hair was short, just like in every other memory of him being in the Demon Realm. But his ghost has long hair in a ponytail. The same hair he had back in the Human Realm.
And if there's one thing this show has taught me, mostly through characters like Amity and Lilith, it's that one thing that bears significance in a character's design is the hair. So in this case, what could it mean? Why everything but Caleb's hair are a perfect reference to his death?
The answer to that lies in the first episode in which we learn the most about him: Hollow Mind. The episode where we see the portraits of Belos' memories and get the general idea of the brothers' story. Now like I said, in those memories there are 2 distinct parts of the story, just like there are 2 different hairstyles of Caleb: Long hair in the Human Realm, short in the Demon Realm. But there's one more distinction, which I'm certainly not the first person to point out: In the Human Realm memories, the memories Caleb has a ponytail, his eyes are scratched out.
Because that's the Caleb Philip wants to forget. Not the one he found in the Demon Realm with a witch, the one he killed. But the Caleb that did chores with him, that played with him, that made him feel special. And it's this Caleb that came back to haunt him. The ghost's presence doesn't simply say "You killed me." It says "I loved you and you killed me."
Philip desperately tried to draw lines and limits and differences between the two versions of Caleb to keep his guilt away and rationalize the murder of his brother, only for this ghost to show up and tear them apart. Because despite falling in love with Evelyn and changing his ways, Caleb never stopped loving his brother.
#Got a semi-part 2 of this in the works#Fangirling notes#wittebane brothers#emperor belos#philip wittebane#caleb wittebane#getting sucked into the wittebane side of the fandom#the owl house
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I wonder if Caleb really was there
It’s actually really hard to tell weather he was a hallucination or not, that was probably the point they did a really good job making it hard to tell. And I will be completely honest, I would actually really like it if it was really him, but here is my take.
This feels like a super random place to just suddenly see him (eh, maybe if the season was longer we would get a more solid answer)
But then we realize he was right at the entrance of his creepy build a boy factory, where his bones are kept.Technically, Caleb saw he came back and was, not necessarily greeting him, he was meeting him head on.
This face, he is not only judging him, he is staring him down. There are many ghost stories of vengeful ghosts who haunt their murders. But sadly there are many more stories of ghosts who fear their murders, even in death. He is showing that he is not only disgusted and done with him, he is not afraid of him. And I think that’s supported in the next scene
Caleb is the first to appear
Then “slowly” the golden guards appear behind Caleb. The positions of the guards I feel is important
You can tell they are all standing behind Caleb only two are close enough to almost be standing with him. Some are a little further back, some are way further back and there are a couple that appear to be lurking around the pillars. I don’t think they are lurking, I think they are hiding. They are hurt and betrayed, but they are also afraid of the man that murdered them.
Caleb’s presence may help remind them that Belos can’t hurt them anymore. Which is why they only appeared after Caleb did.
Side note, that rib cage on the table in the laboratory is probably what is left of Caleb, the adult human has 206 bones, he only has what looked like either 6 or 8 ribs left and from what I could tell his tail bone is missing, but the rest of the spine is there. So however many bones are still on that table, subtract that from 206 and that might be how many golden guards their were, including the failed grim walker that wasn’t done.
They could still be imaginary, but everything surrounding Caleb has been the darkest and the most disturbing thing I haven seen in I don’t know how long. Everytime we think they are gonna stop there with this tragic family they gleefully prove us wrong, that alone makes me believe they are tragic scared and trapped spirits
@stonesleeper pointed out that when Hunter saw Caleb in the mirror, he looked sad and tired in contrast to how he looked at Belos
And again, we don’t know if it’s just in Hunters head, but it’s interesting that Hunter imagines him to look the exact same way Belos sees him in their encounter when Hunter never saw him like this, not even in the memory paintings. It’s part of ghost folk lore that they use mirrors as portals..so there is a chance that Caleb might have just been checking on Hunter and was concerned.
But that’s all just theories, but if I wanted to introduce ghost in the creepiest way possible, I would also want you to not be able to tell if they were real or if the characters were losing their minds
#the owl house spoilers#toh season 3#toh season 3 spoilers#caleb wittebane#philip wittebane#the golden gaurd#toh#toh for the future
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