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Oh flower king 13, big fan of your ecorridor i think he's like really cute but also fucked up with the eye thing if you catch my drift /positive i really like ur ecor saooo creature
[ also psstt do you have any... yk ecor headcanons 🥺🥺🥺 if you concur 🥺 ]
Oh dear anon....
First-- THANK YOU SO MUCH!! I'M SO GLAD YOU ENJOY MY E DESIGN!! I PUT LOTS OF THOUGHT INTO IT!!
Second-- I have alot of hcs! You can find some on my @whereisecorridor blog 😭
But I will tell them here, plus some art wips!!
(Tw for gore, child abuse(?) on #7)
One -- He's related to Wemmbu andn Domonoko (probs brothers)
Two -- He has beef with Wemmbu from Bliss💜
Three -- On LS he's more "peaceful" bc of it feels like a break from Bliss members like MugM and the Bliss progression system halting him
Four -- He's selectivly mute
Five -- He likes scene-core fashion!
Six -- mildly clingy to Pentar (take that as p or r)
Seven -- ECorriodr was born with a lazy eye, his grandma, who was basically insane and heavily religous was very upset that one of her grandchildren wasn't "fit for gods image" and ended up stitching ECorriodr's eye open (me and my freind came up with this soo credits to them for helping!!), but he's grown to be use to his eye being like this and confident in it (though he hates his grandma with full reason)
Eight -- He for friendships bracelets from almost every Bliss member bc he finds it funny
Nine -- He was blessed by BlissAdmin before joining LS which is why he's an angel now!
SEEING HER FACE FALTER IS LIKE WATCHING HER SIGN HER OWN DEATH SENTENCE. It takes everything in him to keep his own expression composed; verging on kind ( hah ) as he asks questions he’s scared he might already know the answers to. She’s the nest, he’s the exterminator; a boy obeying orders because it’s all he knows, from a man who knows he is all his son has left.
In a way, he supposes, Charlotte Sheppard is the same. She is the only person that those children have left too.
And she wears it openly. Doesn’t shield the contortion of her features, deflects with a smile Michael has been trained to see through. He knows about power, and he knows about fear, and he knows about keeping secrets – and when she heads for further away, his heart sinks lower than he thought possible, because he thinks he might be able to read every damn secret she’s ever tried to keep; especially this one, as it spills out of her, pools on the ground like a lonely saint’s blood. She is the surveyor of his father’s empire, collecting those discarded and deathly, and Michael is going to have to kill her the moment she goes too far.
He’s frightened she may have already passed that point. The threshold of no return. Can anyone who discovers the truth really find peace again ? He wishes there was an easy answer to that. To anything.
From where he stands, his hands curl into helpless fists at his sides.
“ Talk about ominous, ” he bounces off her response as quick - wittedly and as obliviously as possible, crossing the room towards her in three large strides. Boots rub uncomfortably, shirt not quite fitting right. It had belonged to his father when he’d played the night guard, and now that it’s Michael’s turn to take up the mantel, he finds himself wanting, unable to fill the expectations and trying to drag Charlotte out of the crossfire too. “ This place is only spooky at night ‘cause it’s so empty, y’know. You worked day - shift before, right ? ” Really hopes she’d told him that, rather than something he’d picked up from his father. Slip - ups are inevitable, but the haunting flash of distress on her face is a phantom is Michael’s own mind, and he wants to avoid drawing any kind of suspicion to himself while she’s rattled. “ Look, don’t let the ghost stories scare you too much. The most evil thing in here is the pay . . . And the cupcake toy. That thing gives me the creeps. ”
For the first time in a long time, he feels out of place in the pizzeria. It’s become the only place he’d been comfortable, but now, with Charlotte, things are different. Less personal, less familiar. Glancing uncomfortably in the direction her gaze lingers, Michael shivers, a cold breeze whispering down his spine. “ . . . You know that, right ? ” That what you know can’t be real, for your own sake ?
“ are you alright ? you look like you’ve seen a ghost. ”
[ hear me out: i’m throwing my michael @bitterborne at charlotte while he’s helping his dad with remnant collecting & general pizzeria security bc yknow. nothing more fun than trying to play oblivious when charlotte is literally suffocated by the ghosts of his crimes ! !!! ]
halloween-themed starters | always accepting ! | from @bitterborne | “ are you alright ? you look like you’ve seen a ghost. ”
she feels like she's just been electrocuted. there's a buzzing under her skin, like her veins are honeycomb, like she's a nest. carrying around histories not her own, little bodies with tiny hands, memories crawling into all her empty spaces, filling the spaces that she couldn't afford to give. it's not exactly subtle. not a blink-and-you-miss-it sort of moment. not like the shivering silhouette of a small body that was just behind him, that flickered out of existence the moment she focused on it. there, then gone. hearing them is normal, feeling them even, but not SEEING them. doesn't know who it is, what upset them so, why they want to make themselves known in this way in this moment. but she doesn't take it lightly. it all crosses her face. she's never been one to hide things. ( it would've been pretty hard to hide anyways. )
his question is gentle. kind, if anything. she blinks, looks over at him. michael. wears the same costume, daces the same masquerade. the facade of security is well-worn on them both. she doesn't know much about him, doesn't even know if he's illegitimate like she is, but the question almost feels FRIENDLY. he didn't see them, didn't feel them, whatever it was. her answer is immediate. maybe a little too quick. her first instinct is always to deflect, always to hide. if anyone finds out about her, the reason why she's stuck with this godforsaken company for the last five years, it's all over. she sort of side-steps him, fills the moment with movement, a distraction to get him to not look at her face while she clears up the surprise, the fright. " who knows ? maybe i did. " when she smiles, it's a little forced, trying to cover with her signature wry humor. " you know how it goes, with this place. " and that's not quite as amused as the beginning of her sentence, a little dark with her feeling. bitterness. but she's still moving, the confusion, the worry, not quite gone from her demeanor, toward the space where she saw the little one a moment ago. the door on the other end of that space makes a fine excuse for her crossing the threshold.
