#both pleasant and kind of sinister it's great

[mochatsin]

When MC Gets Pushed Off the Stairs

You can be the kindest person or the biggest brat this exchange program has ever seen, but it won’t erase the fact that you have enemies. Some demons just can’t stand the idea of a human earning the favor of the seven avatars… and there are others that plan on doing something about it.

TW: implied bullying, falling down the stairs, sprained ankle + MC in a cast, violence, demon brothers being a bit more sinister.

I was in the mood for a bunch of dark and spiteful demons. I might make a separate part of them taking care of MC during the times they have a cast.

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

“Who do they think they are? They probably feel invincible when they have those brothers stuck to their hip.” 

You tried ignoring the rumors and whispers, you knew it wasn’t true so there wasn't any reason for you to bring this up with anyone. Though there were a bunch of demons, specifically these two girls, that are quite irritating. They definitely knew you could hear them, but that doesn’t mean they’ll lower their voices whenever they start talking about you. Seeing your discomfort is what even encourages them to keep talking, and you’re walking down the stairs to your next class so you can avoid them because there’s no way you’re gonna give them that satisfaction of seeing how bothered you are. 

“Invincible? As if! They’re just a human.” The other mocks, looking at you with disgust.

“Let’s find out.” Is the last thing you hear before you feel someone’s heel push your back, making you lose your balance and fall over. It was a blur after that, until he came by…

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

Lucifer

Students are crowding the stairwell, and Lucifer can feel the annoyance already blooming. A crowd like this usually means trouble, and he wonders if Mammon is trying to place bets in secret again. It won’t be the first time he catches his brother discreetly collecting gambling money after convincing other students to bet on something stupid, so Lucifer isn’t going to be surprised if his initial thought was right as he pushes through to see the commotion. 

That’s when Lucifer desperately wished he was right as soon as he saw you on the ground. Two demons on top of the stairs laughed and mocked you, but the moment Lucifer stepped in the scene they immediately shut their mouths out of fear and so did the crowd of students around you. He can piece the scene together and understand what happened, but he needs to hear from you first. 

He kneels down to your level to check up on you. You’re not unconscious and that’s great, though you seemed pretty shaken up. Falling down the stairs and having several students stare at you wasn’t pleasant after all. “Come, let’s discuss what happened in the student council room.” Lucifer offers, since the last thing you need is to be the center of attention and he knows it won’t be a good idea to let you stay here longer.

He helps you stand, but you stumble and cling onto him for support. Your foot… it hurts so much that putting pressure on it sent jolts of burning pain that almost made you scream. You’re trying to be strong despite the pain, you can’t show weakness in front of Lucifer who’s relying on you to represent humans. What kind of image are you showing them? That you’re fragile and weak? It’s all getting overwhelming and Lucifer can see you’re already at your limit.

He turns to the two demons on the top of the stairs and glares at them. The temperature drastically dropped, breathing felt so heavy all of a sudden, and there’s this feeling of dread that paralyzed not only the two but also everyone around them. Trying to run away wasn’t an option, the two girls knew it would just make things worse for them. 

“I expect to see the both of you in the council room at the end of the day. Or else.” There’s no negotiations, and opening their mouths to protest is already a defiance to Lucifer’s orders. He’s already quite strict on his brothers, what more to a pair of demons that doesn’t seem to understand that there are consequences to their actions? “Everyone, get back to your classes.” 

Once everyone has finally left you both alone, Lucifer carries you in his arms. There’s no way he’s letting you limp to the infirmary in this state. He checks your ankle and sighs when he realizes it’s sprained. You thought at first that he’s stressed because you getting hurt meant more work for him, but the worried look on his face shows that it’s not about that.

You’ve been so strong for doing so much here like helping Lucifer manage all of his brothers while still doing your duties as a student, trying to keep up a good impression enough for Diavolo’s exchange program. Now seeing you hurt with a swollen ankle is making Lucifer rethink his views. It’s not pity that’s written on his face, it's… something else entirely. 

“I don’t think you’re weak at all… but maybe it’s time that we take care of you, little lamb.” Lucifer says. It’s an understatement to say that you’re dependable because you’re much more than that to him. He wonders how he even managed to get by with his brothers before you came into their lives. You’ve been so reliable, Lucifer almost forgets that you’re also fragile. You’ve done too much, you deserve a break and be pampered. It’s exactly what he does now that you’ve got a cast on your foot. 

Lucifer doesn’t like seeing you with those crutches, it doesn’t sit right with him when someone like you is suffering from something as basic as going up the stairs. He starts making a proposal about making RAD more accessible for students by adding elevators or magical levitating platforms. While it’s a good idea on its own, you can tell that they had this plan so that you don’t have to suffer through the stairs anymore. Everyone else immediately agreed to the proposal without second thought. 

Lucifer had the two demons apologize to you, and he doesn’t care whether they bruise their skin or get covered in dirt, they will be doing it properly. To beg on their hands and knees, bowing down until their foreheads touch the floor. He won’t let them up until they actually feel genuinely sorry, he doesn’t care how many students will be staring at their pathetic displays. He’s almost tempted to dig his heels into the back of their skulls should they lift their heads for even a single inch from the ground. 

He’ll chip away at their pride that led them to hurting you, finding a way to humiliate them in every subtle way until they’re the ones cowering their head. Lucifer would make subtle comments each time their paths would cross, always looking for a single flow that he would call them out for under the pretense of how it’s unbefitting as a student of RAD. It’s so harsh that the brothers almost felt sorry for them. Is it petty? Perhaps it is. But he doesn’t feel guilty at all when they actively chose to hurt you, and maybe he’ll stop once your ankle is all better.

Mammon

You two were together but then he said had somewhere he needed to be. Mammon was supposed to meet up with you before classes, he just needs to talk to some people he owed a few grimm to and possibly ask for another deadline extension. He’s turning to every corner trying to make sure Lucifer won’t spot him counting his debt, though he did notice the crowd that was forming a few meters away. 

He didn’t give it much thought at first, but that’s until he heard the whispers of students walking towards the scene. ‘It’s that human exchange that fell’ ‘fell? They were pushed, weren't they?’ And that’s when Mammon starts to sprint, honestly hoping that it was Solomon and not you that they were talking about. 

“Outta the way dammit!” Is all you hear, with a few grunts from students getting forcibly shoved to the side before Mammon finally finds you on the floor clutching your ankle. He squats next to you to check the damage, and you can tell from the expression on his face that it doesn’t look good at all. 

He looks up at the stairs and sees the two demons snickering at each other before running away from the scene. Mammon recognizes them, he’s heard some of the nasty stuff they’ve said about this exchange program, and especially about you. It just never occurred to him that they’d do something this drastic when given the chance. Mammon was gone for ten minutes and that was enough time to hurt you. 

He wanted to run after them, force the two to apologize to you. To make them pay. Though the wince and cries from you are what makes Mammon think with a clear head. You tell him that your ankle is hurting, you can’t move it as much without any pain. So he carries you and makes a run for it to the infirmary. No ambulance compares to how quickly Mammon ran just to get you some help.

Mammon stays by your side, too afraid to leave you for another second after what happened. He stares as they patch up your ankle and you’ll be in crutches until it heals. He’s mad, but definitely not at you. He’s angry that this happened under his watch when he’s supposed to be making sure you’re safe from demons like those. That was a role entrusted to him and he already feels like he failed.

“Ya aint leavin’ my sight, not until that ankle of yours is back in shape aight?” And he meant every word. If he’s not glued to your hip, then you swear you can see a three-eyed crow that’s following you around wherever you go. You just feed it some snacks if you have some when you can, and you wake up with shiny trinkets by your desk the next day.

Mammon is ready to be at your beck and call anytime you need it. You let out a grunt of frustration if you dropped your bag and spilled all your belongings. Your sprained ankle makes it hard for you to bend over to get them, but the moment you turn your head, Mammon is already at your feet grabbing you everything. If it weren’t for the circumstances (like your injury), Belphie would probably exploit this and make his older brother do everything while pretending you asked for it. 

The two girls have noticed how much those crows have been following them around. Crows can hold grudges, and they definitely recognize the demons that hurt the human they (and their master) care about. 

It started off as something harmless as landing on their desks, squawking at them, or stealing their pens before an important exam. Though when Mammon noticed them occasionally mocking you behind your back for that cast once you came back to RAD, the crows became more aggressive. The birds pulled on their hair, pecked and bit on their skin, clawing at them whenever they could.

Desperate for this madness to stop, the demons are already by Mammon’s feet begging for the crows to leave them alone. Personally, Mammon would’ve done something much worse but there was no way he’s going to abandon you for a second with that cast. “I’m feeling quite generous, so if ya hear me out on my conditions i’ll let you off the hook yeah?” 

In exchange for finally getting some peace from those crows, the demons agreed to two conditions. One, never to lay a hand on you ever again unless they want the risk of the birds invading their homes. No more mocking or even looking at you with malice. Two, pay Mammon every month. By the time that you got that cast removed, Mammon has paid off some debt from his classmates and he’s quite proud of it. At least he could take care of you and save some coin at the time. No one said it had to be his money right?

Levi

Levi didn’t spend lunch with any of his brothers or classmates as usual today. He likes spending his free time alone in isolated places like the school garden, empty classrooms, or even the rooftop so he could play his games or watch his anime in peace. Socializing with too many people is overwhelming, this is his own way of recharging to get through the rest of the day. 

Though there are rare instances that Levi would ask you to join him in his little hideouts, because you’re one of the people he doesn’t feel too draining to be around. He planned to share some of the snacks he bought for the both of you, but he saw that you were talking with his other brothers at the cafeteria. Feeling dejected, he decided to spend the lunch alone as usual and wait for the class. There’s no way you would want to spend time with someone who’d rather play gacha games on his phone for lunch…

He was hiding by the corners of the stairwell to play his game when he overheard two demons talking so badly about you, followed by hurried footsteps and then a heavy thump at the end of the stairs. Then he heard a familiar voice cry out in pain, and it’s when he realized that you were pushed off the stairs. He saw your body on the floor, trying to recover from the fall and he felt like his world was crashing in on him. He’s frozen in place, unsure of what to do without making things worse.

You turned around and found him hiding behind the stairwell, eyes locked for a moment that felt like an eternity to the demon. That’s when Levi realized he can’t just stand there idly when his player two is injured. Despite the anxiety, he ran to your side anyway to check on you. His face went so pale when he saw you clenching your ankle, the pain evident in your expression. “I-i’ve got you just… dammit what do i d-do…?!” He mumbles the last part, because he knows this isn’t a game where it takes one button to heal you back. No saved file to help him now. 

Levi looks up at the stairs and sees the two demons glaring at the both of you. Out of all the brothers, they would never take Levi seriously. To them, he’s just some demon who dedicated his life to a world of fiction and seeing him fumble right now just proves it. They say that Levi just lacks any real skill to even help you before they left. 

He hates to admit that those two are right, and that makes him loathe himself even more. Levi almost went down on a spiral, but that’s until he felt a phone get placed on his hand. He turns to meet your gaze, you handed him his D.D.D. and he knew what you were asking him to do. Levi quickly dials for his brothers and help came to you after a minute of doing so. He’s thankful for their quick responses, he wouldn’t be able to handle it if a crowd started forming around you both. 

Everyone of them was huddled outside the infirmary while you were getting patched up, and Levi explained what he witnessed. Though he starts going into his self-destructive speech patterns at how he could hardly do anything to help you by himself that he needed to get his brothers to do it for him. He felt so useless to you, but Lucifer interjects. “It’s natural to panic. But if you did not call for us, then they would’ve been in pain for much longer.”

That helped Levi feel a little bit grounded hearing reassurances from his brothers. Lucifer then tasked Levi to be the one in charge of taking care of you during school days. Since Levi also takes his classes online, then he can watch over you while you’re resting in the house. You both can take online classes together while you recover from your injury.

Levi spends most of the time in your room instead because there’s no way he’s making you go up those stairs to his room, and he doesn’t want to risk you getting hurt or slipping if you try to get in his bathtub. As clumsy as he could be, Levi did his best to take care of you. He did want to spend some time alone with you, but he wished it didn’t take a sprained ankle to get what he wanted. 

“I-if only this healing item exists, it would’ve been really handy right now…” He says as you both play a two-player game, the demon staring longingly at the recovery potions on the screen and wishing it could take away your pain right now. Levi often wonders… maybe if he didn’t sulk from the jealousy, if he actually asked you that day to go spend lunch with him, then maybe you wouldn’t have gotten hurt like this. 

Levi was watching some anime while you slept, and he saw the bullies on the anime picking on the innocent main protagonist. The scene just reminds him of what happened to you, and that brings him this sense of rage and justice. It was unfair what those two girls did to you, and Levi doesn’t think it’s right that he does nothing about this (assuming that his brothers haven't gotten to them first). 

The girls found all their accounts hacked. From Devilgram to their bank accounts. Their emails and passwords were changed overnight so they couldn’t figure out how to get it back, and if by some miracle they recovered their accounts, everything was already wiped clean by then. Levi may not be the most confrontational brother, but he’s the best behind the screen. He’s chugging his third energy drink as he thinks of new ways to plant a virus in their D.D.D.’s when he goes to school at the end of the week to hand over both of your homeworks. 

When Levi overheard the girls still talking about you during break, they found all their stuff completely drenched and ruined by the time they came back to their seats even though the classroom remained dry. Gadgets were water damaged, and schoolwork that they were supposed to be submitting later is already long gone. Even their lockers were stuffed with sand and sea water, spilling all over their uniforms as soon as they opened it. The teachers scolded them for the mess they ‘created’ no matter the protests that they never did, but who would believe them if they said it was Levi’s doing? The girls never uttered your name again.

Satan

The teacher assigned you both as partners for a class project due next week, and Satan suggested that it’s best to get a head start on it while your schedules are free. You babysit all of his brothers every day, so Satan expects that your days are going to be quite busy if any of them knew you had a bit of free time to spare. At least his plans are something productive, he gets to spend time with you while also finishing some homework together. 

It’s ten minutes past the agreed time you both were supposed to meet. Satan is outside the school library, tapping his foot on the floor as he messaged you but receiving no response. He knows he could’ve gone ahead to do some research to pass the time, but the point of this study date was to do the project together. It’s never like you to be late without any notice, so he sets out to look for you. 

Satan is walking swiftly, wondering if you were still at the cafeteria. He dials your number to try to call you during his search, and he stops in his tracks when finds your phone on the ground, the screen cracked. It brought alarms in his head and he picked it up to figure out where you must’ve dropped it. It wasn’t hard because he soon spotted the crowd of demons by the stairway nearby. He could immediately guess what happened as he ran to the crowd, and he’s shocked when finally sees that you were the source of commotion.

He doesn’t care how many students he shoved just to get to your side. Seeing you on the ground in pain already warrants an emergency. Satan guessed your phone flew out of your hand when you fell. “What happened to you?! Where does it hurt?!” Satan asks, pulling you close in his arms and checking what’s causing you pain. He sees your ankle swelling slightly, and he’s trying to deduce what he can do to help after reading all of those human health care books just for you.

Though the laughter he’s hearing from the distance is annoying and distracting. Satan glances up and spots the two girls fleeing the scene, looking so proud of themselves. When he realizes what happened to you, his anger is already bubbling through the surface that it’s almost hard to contain. The pained expression on your face doesn’t help, the only reason he hasn’t fully transformed into his demon form is that he doesn’t want to draw more attention or hurt you more than you already are.

The way these students crowded around you like vultures to a feast is making Satan frustrated at each and everyone of them. How could they just stand there and watch while you were in pain? And those two girls, he will make sure to burn their faces into his memory for later. You could practically feel the heat of his wrath radiating from your pact and it’s making your body hurt more. Satan realized that his temper right now could be causing you more pain, so he focuses his thoughts into getting you some help instead of the anger that wants to burn everything and everyone around you.

“Calm down… just calm down…” he mutters over and over while he gently scoops you into his arms, though it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself. Satan is careful when carrying you so he can take you to the infirmary, and all the students parted like the red sea when Satan shot glares at them, quickly scattering like rats while the two of you disappeared into the infirmary. 

His eyebrows are furrowed the entire time as he waits for you to get patched up. His brothers have already arrived after they heard what happened, though they could sense that the fourth born is already on edge like a ticking time bomb. He’s quiet not because there’s nothing to say, but because he’s trying to hatch a plan. Something like this shouldnt go unpunished…

Satan is glad for his position in the student council because it meant that he could access some files from RAD. What does he do best? Studying and gathering as much information as he could. He looks for any detention notices until he finds the names and faces of the two girls that hurt you. A smile spreads across his face, though it was nothing pleasant. Like he just found his new prey. 

He just needs to wait for that detention day, patience is the key to success. So for now he’ll focus on taking care of you. Satan pays more attention to you, always attentive to your needs. He brings you notes from any classes that you’ve missed during your recovery, and you heard from one of the brothers that they’re all trying to rack up money for a better phone since yours broke. you do admit that you feel bad for all the extra work he puts up for your sake, especially since Satan even had to do most of the project that you both were originally supposed to do together in the first place if it weren’t for the incident.

“You’re speaking nonsense. I don’t mind putting in more effort just for you, all you need to do is to recover. I’ll consider that as my thanks.” Satan would bring you books in bed or make you some coffee topped with some latte art just so you wouldn’t feel so bored. You can’t go to cafes or libraries with him like you both used to, so Satan will do everything with you in the comforts of your room. 

Satan counted the days until it was time. He assigns another brother to watch over you. Asmo pretends not to hear the sound of the main door closing in the middle of the night, distracting you with something pretty he recently bought. The next school day rolls around and everyone is lucky you’re still in bed rest when the news broke out. Two students were found unconscious on the stairs in an awful state. Normally, falling down a flight of stairs doesn’t do much damage to a demon as much as it can to humans. And yet the bones in their legs were absolutely shattered…

None of the brothers were honestly too bothered to tell you the events that transpired, mostly because they knew the culprit. Satan would rather that you focus your energy on recovering. The only news that Satan told you was that you both got a perfect mark on the project you both worked on in the comforts of your room, but he doesn’t bring up what happened to those two demons. You only found out when Solomon accidentally told you during his visits. 

Asmo

There’s only a few minutes left before the next bell would ring, so Asmo makes sure to retouch his makeup in the school’s bathroom just as he usually does. He dedicates twenty minutes of his daily time making sure that he looks absolutely perfect, so he could bless the eyes of those who pass by to bear witness of his beauty. At least, that’s what he always tells you whenever he leaves. 

Just a bit of blush here and there to match his eye shadow, and Asmo has this proud smile on his face when he’s sure that he looks absolutely spotless. He wanted to bring you along to his little pre-class make up routines, and maybe next time he’ll hear that sweet ‘yes’ from you when he asks. Just thinking about you is making him giddy, so Asmo packed up his pouch and tried to look for you.

It didn’t take him long because as soon as he opened the bathroom door, he spotted a few students by the stairs. Asmo finds it unusual because what could be so important that he’s not the center of attention? Regardless, he’s intrigued enough to investigate the source and he’s horrified to see you down the stairs, clutching your ankle. 

If it wasn’t you, then it was Asmo’s shriek that probably drew more attention to the scene. He’s quickly running to your side and checks if you hit your pretty little face anywhere. “Darling, that must’ve been a nasty fall! I would hate it if you got any bruises anywhere on that perfect skin of yours.” Asmo whines as he helps you sit up to give you more support, wrapping an arm around your waist. 

When he did so, he heard a scoff and finally turned his attention to the top of the stairs where the two girls looked at you with disgust. He recognizes one of them from his fanclubs, a girl that often tried to get his attention. The facial expressions and body language says all he needs to know, he’s seen this look before. Someone like you being held by Asmo is a major offense to her eyes. The two demons storm off before Asmo could say anything. 

Asmo pursed his lips together in frustration before he turned to all the students crowding around you. For once, he hated this attention you’re getting and he sees how much you’re getting shaken by this. “Scram.” Asmo said with enchanted glowing eyes, watching as they all obeyed his command. He then turns to you and wraps your arm over his shoulder to hoist you up. “Come on, let’s get that treated or Lucifer will kill me!” Asmo says to try lighten the mood, though it doesn’t hide the bloodlust in his eyes. 

He doesn’t like sweating when he just retouched his makeup, but he can’t even bring himself to think about that now whenever he hears the pained whimpers from you everytime you struggle to take a step. The brother’s eventually arrive to find Asmo outside the Infirmary, scrolling through his phone. Looking closely, he’s actually stalking the profile of the demon he saw earlier and there’s a sinister smile on his face whenever he learns something new about his target. The smile was enough to creep Levi out. 

Asmo is always checking up on you when you’re at home recovering, trying to cheer you up whenever he has the chance. It’s gotten to the point he lessened his time clubbing or going to malls just so he could stay with you. “When you’re out of that cast, there will be a special bath full of rose petals with your name written all over it.” Asmo does his best to pamper you whenever he can, knowing how hard it must be to have that cast. It’s truly awful when these sorts of things have to happen to you when you both just bought some matching shoes together! He decides not to wear it yet until your foot gets better.

While you were gone, Asmo did what does best. Gossip. He started giving that other demon attention like she always wanted, whispering and suggesting things in her ear. About how that other demon, her friend, was saying disgusting things behind her back and Asmo is only telling her this to ‘look out’ for her sake. He relishes in her angered expression, knowing he now has her wrapped around his finger like a puppet and all he needed to do was sit back to watch the show.

Each day he found himself feeling excited to go to school just to see how those two would hurt each other this time. It started as something petty with his fan constantly bumping into what she used to consider as a friend, feigning ignorance whenever she’s confronted. Of course, she retaliated back until their silent arguments full of passive-aggressiveness turned into something more violent and hostile. It started from mean notes to death threats until they can’t even stand being in the same room without trying to claw out each other’s eyes. All because of Asmo’s pretty words.

There are times teachers are called to intervene because two girls began fighting in the hallways, screaming profanities while pulling at the other’s hair or horns. Whenever the drama dies down, Asmo would go back to add more fuel to the fire just to watch them burn. He tells his dedicated fan more lies just to enable that rage, spreading a rumor or two around the campus to make it sound reliable. He loves having that charm that captivates and charms, especially someone as gullible as this demon who’d listen to anything he says.

News was no longer about your recent incident, it was now about how the two demons fought so badly that they fell over the stair railings from the top floor all the way down. Given the severity of the injuries they’ve given each other from the week alone, they had no choice but to be suspended until the student council decides what to do with them. 

Of course, the brothers knew Asmo pulled the strings, seeing that smile on his face whenever the two girls would try to tear each other apart made it so obvious. Not only was it easy and entertaining, but it kept his nails clean too. It’s not like he broke a rule right? They both did this to themselves. “I can’t wait to tell my darling what happened~!” Asmo hums excitedly on his way home to you.

Beel

Lunch time is definitely Beel’s favorite part of the day (and the lunch lady's worst nightmare). He’s golfing down as much food as he could since he’s been so hungry from his last class which was Magical Potions. Whenever his hunger starts to act up, it’s already a struggle not to eat the ingredients to alleviate it, knowing his teacher would scold him just like last time when he chowed down the entire jar of shadow salamander tails. 

He’s lucky whenever you both are paired up together, since you bring him some candies to alleviate his hunger enough for him to focus again. You were his lifesaver. Just the thought of you makes Beel wonder where you were. He went ahead today because you said you needed to see Satan to discuss a project, and you were taking quite a while. He’s had food saved up for you and it’s getting harder for Beel not to eat your share, plus it’s always better when you both eat together. 

The last straw was when he saw Satan in the cafeteria and when he asked the blonde where you were, the fourth born said he couldn’t find you. Beel grabs a few snacks to keep his stomach going when he searches for you. Normally it’s hard to convince Beel to leave the cafeteria during lunch break, but you’re that important for him to abandon the heaping food on his table. He was trained as an angel to be ready for any sort of disaster, and his gut is telling him that something is definitely wrong. He only confirmed it when he was walking down the stairs and saw everything. 

Two girls were laughing and mocking the human he’s grown to love and care for, and when he found you on the bottom of the stairs after a fall, Beel was seeing red. He doesn’t hesitate to slam his fist against the wall and demand silence, because there was no way he was going to let them insult you any further. The two demons saw him and stiffened, quickly running away from the scene to avoid getting caught. The girls knew that Beel would crack their skulls open like he did to that wall if he got his hands on them.

Beel normally would’ve gone after them, but seeing how you’re struggling to get up on your own is what changed his mind and ran to you instead. He doesn’t even get to run all the way, at some point Beel jumps down the last flight of stairs just to reach you quicker. “Tell me if it hurts…” Beel whispers as he tries to help you up. You winced from the pain, and he decided to effortlessly carry you all the way to the infirmary because he would never make you limp this entire trip and deal with the ache. He’s a big demon, and lots of people find him terrifying when aggravated. And yet he’s so gentle when it comes to you.

Being a fangol player, Beel knows what it’s like to hurt yourself. He’s had Lucifer and Mammon help him back to the house after one intense match against the opposing team. The difference is that he could heal a bit more quickly compared to your fragile human body. What normally takes days for his body to regenerate could last months for you. He’s being careful when he carries you to the infirmary, holding you close like you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever held and he might be right at this point when he watches the nurses patch you up.

Beel is pacing so much outside the infirmary that his twin had to calm him down before he would drill a hole in the middle of the halls, his head is thinking about all of the what-ifs. Luckily you weren’t critical, save for the sprained ankle, but there’s this guilt on his face when he looks through the window and sees your cast. Maybe he should’ve been with you when you went looking for Satan so that he would have protected you, but what’s done is done now. So he focuses on taking care of you and reminding you that you could always rely on him for help.

He brings you some of your favorite treats whenever he comes home from RAD so you both could eat together. At some point, he heard from Solomon that milk is the key for humans to have stronger bones. You tried not to laugh when Beel got a galon just for you, innocently thinking that it would’ve helped you out with your injury if you drank all of it. 

Beel is too nice for a demon, he might be the kindest of the seven brothers. But there’s been this tension around the orange haired demon whenever he’s sharing a class with the two girls that pushed you down those stairs. There's this hardly contained rage and blood lust, so a lot of students avoided mentioning what happened to you around him unless they want to get caught in the crossfire. 

Beel finds it frustrating whenever he feels that he can't do anything about this rage. Watching you limp around in crutches around the house while those girls were striding down the halls without a care, it wasn't fair. It’s taking all his willpower not to just throw them out of the window for what they did to you. He broke several pens whenever he's too angry during class that Satan had to lend him some of his own. He feels this loss of appetite now that you’re not around to share food with him, and whenever he would remember the incident he would bend the metal of his fork, shaping it effortlessly like it’s clay. It’s a matter of concern for the brothers now.

Belphie took his twin out to the gym so Beel could let his frustrations through workouts. He may have destroyed two punching bags, but it was enough to bring down that anger to a safer level now. And during all that, Beel finally confided in his twin. About how he saw those girls mock you, and this innate urge to just see them suffer but it’s impossible to do that without destroying everything in his path. He would get in a lot of trouble, and he knows that would upset you instead. 

“It’s just unfair, you know that they didn’t deserve that…” Just because he was nice doesn’t mean he wasn’t vengeful, but he’s at a loss of what he could do that wouldn’t result in another property damage bill sitting on Lucifer’s desk. Belphie can just sense how his Beel is itching for a bit of revenge, and who is he to deny what his twin wants? 

For Magical Potions, Beel had to partner up with Satan and Belphie since you’ll be absent for the time being. They had the perfect plan, all Satan needed was a good sleight of hand to drop something in their cauldron when he walks by. Given that these two love pulling pranks on Lucifer specifically, they took a page out of their book of schemes for new targets. 

Maybe his brothers forgot to consider that these two demons do not have the same kind of strength or resistance that the eldest had… or they both did this on purpose. Adding hellfire frog legs into the girl’s cauldron during Magical Potions class was actually more explosive than they expected, resulting in awful burns on their skin and hair. Beel’s priority is to take care of you everyday so he didn’t have much time to relish in this side of his that wants to wreak havoc, but he admits that seeing your bullies in pain like this is actually fun. It’s almost as satisfying as those ten stack pancakes he had two days ago… ah great, now he’s getting hungry again.

Beel is coming home to you with a box of your favorite treats. You wanted to try those new batch of sweets from Madame Scream but the brothers kept you in bed rest due to your ankle, so Beel went out of the trouble to get them for you. It took a lot of willpower not to eat a single one on the way back which deserves praise. You’ve been feeding him so many snacks during class to help him focus, this is his way of returning the favor to you. 

He doesn’t bring up what happened during potions class with the girls that pushed you, and he honestly didn’t feel the need to do so since they weren’t important as you are to him. He’s too busy trying to feed you some yummy snacks to even think about that. You only hear about what happened through his twin who was grinning from ear to ear when he recalls the boils and burnt hair. “Well, it’s their fault for not checking their cauldron. They’re not smart and careful like you.” 

Belphie

Belphie found a perfect spot to sleep around RAD where he’s sure Lucifer won’t spot him yet. It’s hidden in the school gardens, a nice secluded area with a small bench surrounded by bushes that would surely keep him out of sight. He’s been slowly putting pillows and blankets he’s brought so that it becomes a little slumber haven for him, and Belphie feels that he’s ready to show you his secret spot. He’d never tell his brothers because he wants to have at least a few minutes alone with you every weekday.

The problem with that plan is that Belphie can’t even find you. He’s already at the verge of passing out from the exhaustion of trying to keep himself awake in his search for you. Lunch in school is normally his nap time allowance, but he really did want to show you this secret hide out so that you both could enjoy it together. 

He runs into his twin who was also looking for you, so it’s better they just stuck together right? Belphie had plans to show Beel anyways once this was done with. They passed by a corner to go upstairs in case you were already in the classroom, and that’s when they both saw you at the bottom of the stairs where those two girls were laughing at you. 

Belphie didn’t know what came over him, but his body could hardly move when he saw you like that. It’s bringing him a lot of bad memories of choices he came to regret until this day, remembering the things he did to you when he threw your body down the stairs. He wanted to forget that, but seeing this whole situation is making that memory repeat in his head. Like the guilt is creeping back to him, and he froze in place not knowing what to do other than to relive the moment. 

Beel grabbed Belphie by the wrist to snap him out of the trance, reminding the youngest that you need some help. The twins came by your side, hoisting your arms over their shoulders to help you in the infirmary. The two girls were already long gone while Belphie was in a frozen state, and Beel would’ve gone after them if not for his twin and you because his family always comes first. 

The one thing that’s comforting Belphie right now is the fact that you’re still alive and breathing, though it can only do so much. He doesn’t like seeing you in pain like this, so he offers a spell so you could sleep through it while the nurse from the infirmary patches you up. He’s quiet the entire time when he watches you rest, Beel tries to talk to his twin about it but he refuses to let his problems known. It’s not like it was hard to guess, Beel can tell what’s bothering his twin but doesn’t mention it. 

Belphie has been taking naps by your side whenever possible, sleeping in your room and making sure to give you sweet dreams each time you start falling asleep. Though he himself couldn’t sleep. Each time he tries to get some shut eye with you, he ends up reliving that day when they found you at the bottom of the stairs. The way those girls mocked you was unforgivable, and he hates how it’s hitting too close to home. Whenever he wakes up, he checks on your pulse while you’re asleep and sighs in relief every time he feels your heart beat. Like it’s the only thing that can calm him down. 

By the time he woke up from his third nightmare, Belphie had enough. If he wants to feel at peace again, then he needs to get rid of the source of the problem. It wasn’t fair that you’re suffering like this, he hates seeing the empty seat next to him in class knowing that you’re supposed to be there instead of staying at home with that cast. Lucifer told him that they’ll be dealing with the matters soon, but Belphie had no intention of listening to them in the first place. 

Belphie has been gradually giving the two girls nightmares, and each night they progressively get worse. From using their phobias against them to waking up from a gorefest nightmare in the middle of the night. It costs them sleep, and Belphie thinks it’s the perfect piece of karma whenever he sees the bags under their eyes getting darker each day. Hair and clothes started to look more haphazard when there’s barely any energy to keep themselves up.

Whenever Belphie shares a class with them, he pulls a little bit of magic to make them fall asleep during class until they get into a lot of trouble. He loves doing this when there are important tests and activities so they’d miss it and fail. No amount of coffee helps keep them awake during the day while the nightmares plague their sleep. The constant fatigue and the lack of sleep is starting to get to them, and Belphie has been observing everything. Movements were more sluggish and alertness has gone below the baseline. Just exactly what Belphie was waiting for. 

It’s a simple plan that leads to the least amount of struggling and effort needed, because all it took was one shove for them to tumble out of the railings and down several flights of stairs. When they’ve finally stopped rolling against the stairs, they hear Belphie’s heavy footsteps as he walks down to their level until he’s stepping on one of them with the heel of his foot. He’d compare them to bugs, but that would be insulting to all insects.

“You know, I had a lot of plans with them that day… I don’t like it when people, even my brothers, decide to ruin them.” His love for you and spoiled attitude is what’s fueling his anger right now, so he had no qualms with pushing them down the next flight of stairs with his foot. And whenever they think it’s over, he goes down and does this again. Like kicking a pebble he’s found on the ground… all the way down to the first floor. 

There’s this satisfied look on his face as soon as he sees the two girls on the floor already at the brink of unconsciousness. He feels so much lighter now, and all he can think of is how he wants to go home to take a nap with you. He doesn’t even walk over to the side, he just steps over the two girls on his way out. 

Belphie comes home with the usual drowsy expression, but you can tell he’s in a much better mood now. He lays down next to you in bed, already hugging you close to his chest while making sure he’s not hurting your ankle. “I think I can get more sleep now…” he says with a confident smile on his lips, lulling you to slumber with him. After that incident, it’s the first in a while that Belphie finally has his usual 10 hour nap. 

[animebw]

I realize I haven't really said anything about Mayu yet, the new character at the center of most of Eupho S3's drama. Partly that's because Kumirei has sucked up so much of my brain juice that it's hard to focus on anything else (despite the fact there's plenty more going on in this show than just its central relationship). But partly that's because Mayu herself has been a very wait-and-see kind of character. The show very deliberately alienates you from her at first, forcing you and Kumiko to take her in gradually as you try to understand what kind of person she is. Eupho's always been very firmly planted in Kumiko's perspective; we very rarely get scenes without her present, or hear what's going on in other characters' heads unless they're outright telling her. So just as Kumiko feels a massive wall between them, the audience does to- until we're finally able to breach that wall and meet Mayu on her own terms.

Which is funny, because in retrospect, Mayu has always been the most honest character in the entire show! She came onto the scene telling us what she's about- "I don't want to make waves or upset people, I just want to get along with everyone"- and the only real "reveal" about her is the fact that she was being genuine about that. We just assumed there must be something else going on because we're stuck in Kumiko's perspective, and the visual language Mayu is presented with- dark shadows, uncomfortable intrusions on familiar spaces- is a representation of how Kumiko feels about this hotshot new euphonium player threatening to steal her spot. It makes us see her how Kumiko sees her, makes us want to believe there's some sinister motive behind her pleasant smile, some cruelty she masks with kindness. But once Kumiko gets over that discomfort and actually talks to her, she realizes the only person Mayu's really lying to is herself. She does want to get along with everyone. She doesn't want to upset people and mess up Kitauji's status quo. She is genuinely a nice person who wants the best for everyone else. The only thing she was hiding was how much she actually wanted to be a part of the community with everyone instead of keeping herself at a distance to preserve the peace.

And honestly? That's kind of a perfect "antagonist" for Kumiko's final chapter. Every school year has pitted Kumiko against another euphonium player- Asuka, Kanade, now Mayu- who Kumiko can only come to understand and accept by being honest about what she wants and believes. But the difference is Asuka and Kanade were both- and I say this affectionately- manipulative little shits who were very good at hiding their true selves behind a mask to get what they wanted out of other people. So Kumiko had to approach them from a place of honesty, pushing aside their attempts to bluster and drawing their true selves to the surface by showing her own vulnerability. She had to be more honest than them so they could be honest with themselves in turn. But now with Mayu, Kumiko's finally facing someone who's more honest than her, and instead of pulling Mayu up to her level, she has to rise to Mayu's level. Only then can she fully accept who she is and who she wants to be- not someone chasing solitary greatness like Reina, but someone who wants to raise everyone else up with her, even if that means she'll never achieve greatness on her own.

[stardustdiiving]

I have a lot of really small headcanons about the concept of “elemental resonance” I keep incorporating into my genshin fics whenever I write them bc I love using the concept that the characters can pick up on other people who wield elemental power’s energy, and the fact elements can react or resonate with each other as a really small way to give insight into how a character feels about things or people around them

I enjoy imagining and using that as almost like another kind of “body language” or mode of communication. I like using it to give characters more defined presences and personalities especially with how they’re viewed through an external POV

Things of this nature I’ve kind of thought about/written before include:

Wanderer will describe the unusually strong elemental power radiating off of Archon characters he’s around as “unpleasant” and tell the reader he doesn’t like being around gods because they all radiate this oppressive and uncomfortable energy that makes him feel very defensive…but he noticeably doesn’t seem to mind Nahida’s elemental energy despite being very aware of it and describes it in a much more pleasant way because He Likes Her

In contrast a lot of people find Wanderer’s Anemo “jarringly sharp like storm gales” or just really odd/confusing and potential sinister(????) but then Nahida just describes it as like, gentle and very nice even if it’s a bit wild sometimes :) (this would confuse everyone if she told them this)

Lynette and Freminet can tell when Lyney gets upset/anxious, especially over them, because his Vision that gives him elemental power came from his ambition to protect his loved ones, and they would describe him being worried as like, a flickering and more fast paced sort of Pyro energy radiating from him that feels very directed towards them specifically

Venti tends to passively reach out and “resonate” with a lot of elements around him, especially with people he likes or shares his element with, as sort of a way of going hello! I see you! Jean and Xiao describe his Anemo energy as very like, reassuring/comforting/makes them feel more centered (he usually does this when they seem stressed out), while a lot of the Mondstadt characters don’t recognize it’s coming from him and just feel more relaxed/comfortable/“at home” (or nostalgic for Mondstadt if they aren’t there at the moment)

Kaeya describes a lot of the pyro characters he’s friends with (Klee, Amber, etc) as very warm and nostalgic—he doesn’t say it directly but the implication is it reminds him of Diluc when they were younger. In present day he describes Diluc’s energy as “subdued heat” towards everyone else but “smolderingly cold for a fire” when Diluc’s attention is on him because their relationship is in great condition ❤️

Characters tend to find being able to resonate with the energy of people they’re close with very comforting (it’s like a hug or leaning on someone for support basically). They usually note it’s especially reassuring if it’s done with someone of the same element. They usually do this pretty deliberately but u can also have characters sort of reaching out to their loved ones more quietly if they don’t like being very emotionally open (lol)

^^ so Tighnari usually reaches out with his Dendro passively for Collei to “lean on” if he can tell she isn’t doing well and wants to like, very intuitively reassure her. Kaveh and Al Haitham both pretend they never do this but they are regularly both “checking in on each other” whenever they’re in proximity as sort of a like “are you there? Oh hi you’re here. Okay nice”

I could go on about this for a while with like every character but I find it so fun. I really love subtle characterization or adding more personalized descriptions to characters beyond just like purely physical appearance jducjfjd

[lazulian-devil]

As promised to @maidofdarkness23, here is the first of several breakdowns on the villains of Skulduggery Pleasant.

The Villains of Skulduggery Pleasant

We start at the beginning, in Phase 1, Book 1 (which doesnt have a subname as far as I know, its only titled Skulduggery Pleasant).

Ready?

Nefarian Serpine

Certified best villain ever (I am not biased).

Alright, so first of all:

We are talking about Book 1, the beginning of the series and a book that (in comparison to all the others) is still working with a world that hasnt been established, ideas that arent entirely fixed yet and vibes that are still a little different.

Nefarian Serpine - for all his flaws - embodies this hard. He is almost larger than life in the first book, a reputation that he doesnt really hold in his other Leibnitz dimension appearances. In comparison to every other villain of the week, he lives in an ellaborate, gothic castle filled with hollow papermen and everytime the castle is described, the accompanying thunder and dark clouds are implied.

He never has much screentime, but Dereks perspective style writing lends him just enough depth that his cartoonishness turns sinister and plotting. His interactions with Bliss showcase a man that is deeply aware of his wrongdoings and yet consistently smiles into the face of distrust and hatred. This man knows how to play the game. He is too sure of himself, which makes reading about his movements and actions so full of dread. The question is not only "What has he done in his past?" but the much worse question of "What is he actually doing right now?"

How far will he go, surrounded in his castle by papermen, alone, twirling a wine glass.

In essence, Serpine is a silly villain, so cladden in clichés and stereotype that he is almost larger than the sum of his parts. His shadow is bigger than his body.

The first book establishes that he alone is the reason for Skulduggery Pleasants misery, loss of wife and child, as well as skin and body. A traumatic position that (afaik) no other villain even so much as came close to. The stakes are - of course - world saving level, but they also hold a personal pain that very few following villains in Phase 1 come close to.

In terms of atrocities commited against Skulduggery, hes probably second to none. Even China just followed his lead and never actually plotted or - worse - put them into motion.

The interest in most other villains comes down to

A) saving the world.

B) some kind of moral or ethical conundrum about the world of sorcerers.

But very rarely

C) literally facing the root of your trauma (for Skulduggery) or establishing a root (for Valkyrie).

(Quick Sidenote: Serpines death signifies both Skulduggeries "closure" with his old self and Valkyries acceptance of her new self. Once again, Serpine is not only a foil but also a catalyst).

It is also a great setup to reveal Skulduggerys less heroic sides: His wrath and his care for Valkyrie and Valkyrie alone. The two things that would, throughout the whole series, stay consistent.

Serpine is foil to Skulduggery in even more ways than that, revealing that the same cocksureness and self importance is an incredibly annoying feat in literally anyone else. Going up against Skulduggery must be infuriating, because going up against Serpine definitely is.

And hes also funny.

Have I mentioned how fucking funny Serpine is? Wanting to turn Skulduggery into a piano, absolutely able to hold his wit against the onslaught of insults and quibs exchanged.

Its also important to distinguish this Serpine from the Leibnitz Serpine. His Leibnitz equivalent foils a Skulduggery and Valkyrie that are much further along on their way to madness - he acts just enough like his original (after all, its only been like, what... Six? Seven? books?) but there are still some differences. I'll get to that. Someday.

Back to OG Serpine.

What do we have so far?

Serpine is an almost cartoonish assortment of tropes (the hand, the castle, the general vibe) but somehow, it works. Hes just a little "more" than his tropes, alluding to a three dimensionality he doesnt actually posess, but we have enough to believe it to be there.

He is clearly a product of the series not being established, which explains his constant later downplays (him being the weakest between Vengous, Vile and Serpine for example is only established long after Vengous and Serpine are dead).

He is the most personal villain that the Duo - and especially Skulduggery - face and its hilarious, that its literally the first book.

He is in so many ways exactly like Skulduggery. Full of himself, magically skilled beyond sense, insane (Im looking at you, Faceless Ones Dimension), obsessed with his own aesthatics, also literally a former Mevolent Higherup/Endboss/what do you even call that, witty, sarcastic, smart and able to plot etc. Etc.

He is both the door finally closing for Skulduggery and the door being blasted open for Valkyrie.

We'll come back to him, dont worry. His weirdass villain castle is used by Scarab and Billy-Ray in another book and he plays a passive role even after his death (like the opinions of the Dead Men, China Sorrows trauma, etc.) and even an active role as his Leibnitz replacement.

Solid 10/10 villain.

Im sorry that this got so long and I hope it made any sense and/or provided new insight to literally anyone.

I wrote more of this: Heres Part 2 with Baron Vengous and heres Part 3 with Batu.

[caluski]

@moldavite tagged me to post my current music faves (thank u kalli a big fucking MWAH goes out to u in this gloomy april evening) so yay!!! i love posting spotify links of course... more belowww. trying so hard for everyone to only post things i havent shared before... trying!!

obviously justice is on repeat - both incognito and saturnine, but im putting here incognito bc it does have the coolest intro and outro everrr like ouuughhhh like justice goes so fucking hard when they choose to have some retro synths................ actually have you listened to planisphere today? you should (talking to everyone)

i havent actually talked about my thoughts on khruangbins new album... which is obviously good but i simply didnt have the time to get into it :/ ive been hoping to give it a good listen, no skips no nothing, on a day off but work has been kicking my ass a bittt... anyway! Pon pón is fun. it came out as a single few weeks back and ive gotten really into it.... sooooo groovy

vampire by sholto is what some of you might recognize from love and food playlist? but ohhhhhh fuckkkkkkk its so good. i dont even know this guy and i didnt think much of it other than "yeah its cool" when i added it to my library. such a great and sinister feeling jazzy number.... AND WHEN THE SAX HITS!!!!!!!!! thats so good. please listen to vampire.

more radio pop!!!!! MORE MAINSTREAM KEVIN PARKER!!!!!!!! i do love tame impala's older/more niche sound just as much as i love him "selling out" (whatever, i will defend his minions and elvis tracks until i die and i will MEAN it) so i am STILL excited for this album even though the roll-out of singles has been consistently awful. but i guess dua lipa is a slow riser always (however long did it take her to peak on charts with 'dont start now'???). plus obviously DANNY!!!!!! YAY FOR DANNY!!!!!

its been a really good spring so far, with so many of my faves releasing music, and obviously that includes sebastian. i remember watching the runway show this was made for, but for some reason i didnt hear the whole track - maybe it was just highlights or something? i really love the synths in this one. its unusual for him to bring the choral singing in the start instead of the climax of the track, but its really well done (as always)! i wish, i wiiiiiiiiish there was something happening about the new album, too.

charli's really being weird recently about everything but goddddddd this slaps so good. im usually not that big on gesaffelstein but i do love ag cook so much. its going to be such a good clubbing record like literally.... its crazy she STILL gets labeled hyperpop. i also like club classics, but b2b is TRULY superior out of this double drop....

the beat of this one is just stuck in my head at all times. its cute! fun! perfect for spring. theyre soon to release their debut album, i need to remember to check it out. while its not SOTY material so far, its just cool and pleasant.

more dance sounds - i like this one a lot! really catchy. ive never really been into 1tbsp but yeahhhhh with this one, i get it.

ok i for sure posted this one before, but its ok bc it got like 0 or 1 likes or something. starwolf is a band im really hopeful for!!!! their 2020 album was pretty interesting, but its their three last singles that got my ears all perked up. some daytime disco vibes in them, and its really cool considering i was somewhat.... underwhelmed by poolside's last album. so, i feel good about starwolf now! fingers crossed for summer, as it would be a perrrrrrrfect record to replay over and over during hot sunny days.

and SUUUUUUUUUUUCHHHHHHHHH a spring favorite for the end. kind of getting lost in this one.... number one song i keep thinking of during sweet sunny walks recently. unbelievably cute. 10000% recommend.

[pryzme-colour]

- Paw Paw -

Nhila, the great old one of beauty and love.

She is a fairly young goddess who does not seek the destruction of humanity nor does she completely ignore them, but values ​​them in a somewhat sinister way, since they are almost the only beings capable of loving and being manipulated by others through that feeling. She is described as having both a kind and cruel personality; Nhilla is authoritarian, manipulative, vengeful and narcissistic, but she keeps her word, is joyful, cooperative, attentive, protective, and for this reason she can be much more pleasant to worship than other gods. It can be assumed that cause of her subject matter and nature she is almost as worshiped as Nyarlathotep or shub-niggurath, or perhaps more than either. Grant requests that range from the generic in her world to more specific things such as; the correspondence of a loved one, resurrections, eternal youth, or even providing a reason for life to those who do not have it, since she often take advantage of the victims, human society or not. She has been worshiped in many ancient cultures with different avatars, although her most representative avatar in human culture turns out to be Aphrodite. On the other hand, she is also known as Cupid, Ishtar, Parvati and Xochiquetzal. The contemplation of her face produces madness since it causes an obsession with her figure, and more than directly or indirectly generating death, it helps her to expand her influence (direct contemplation is not necessary, seeing an image or portrait of it is enough to cause the same effect). //Whether she's free or locked up like other gods couldn't be determine right now. May want second opinions tbh.

- Other art -

People made me drawings and i'm here to show them off 💅✨

[youllallriseintheink]

Rank all the cast members of Joey Drew Studios from favorite to least favorite.

I wasn’t sure whether you meant the canon characters or my versions, so I did both! I’ll start with the strictly canon versions and then put the list for my own characters under a cut.

1. Joey Drew. Where to even begin? Everything in TIOL was just amazing. Everything about Joey’s character is so well-integrated- his whole mindset of perception and fantasy being more important than reality both explains how he justifies his actions and makes sense given his circumstances, and it’s really original, too. It makes SENSE that Joey would want to think that way given what he’s seen and how much bigger his imagination is than the world around him. It makes SENSE that he’d want to think he knows better than everyone else- he’s a gay man in a time when “everyone else” (not actually everyone, but it probably felt that way to some of the people living through it) strongly disapproved of that. And it makes SENSE that that mindset, that other people are just characters meant to fill a role, would lead him to do self-sabotaging, manipulative things and disregard the autonomy and wellbeing of others. TIOL truly painted a picture of a unique person who would totally shove his best friend into a time loop, and in my opinion it’s the best thing to ever come out of this franchise.

2. Sammy Lawrence. Gosh, I love Sammy. With all the different canons we get, it’s possible to weave together a story of a person who just wanted a sense of safety and stability in a world that had other ideas. He’s clearly deeply flawed and downright unpleasant at times even without ink, but I don’t think he’s an entirely bad person. After all, even as an ink creature he’s trying to make the best of things and guide his flock. I like how strange and rough around the edges he is, and I especially liked his role in TIOL.

3. Allison Pendle. Her whole portrayal is so mysterious. How much does she actually know about the ink machine? Why is she apparently okay with it?? Did she actually lose her memory as an ink creature? Why does she think that Henry is some kind of hero? She just seems a little ominous and I love it.

4. Henry Stein. I don’t have much to say about him, I just find him to be a really calming character. His portrayal in TIOL only added to that.

5. Susie Campbell. I love a good corruption arc, so seeing her go from excited to play any role to willing to do anything to be Alice again was nice. Her lines as Malice also point to her knowing a lot about the studio, which I find interesting.

6. Jack Fain. He’s peaceful and pleasant, and a great foil for Sammy. That is all he needs to be.

7. Norman Polk. I love this guy. I love his twisted sense of humour and his constant amusement. He seems like a fearless person who never quite takes anything seriously.

8. Wally Franks. He’s funny. I like how oblivious he appears to be. I also like how he apparently worked on early drafts of the ink machine and worked with Thomas Connor. I wonder how much he really knew.

9. Bertrum Piedmont. His portrayal in the books is hilarious, idk what to tell you. Just such a big personality, 10/10.

10. Thomas Connor. He’s cool. Very troubled. I’d like to know more about why on earth he kept working on the ink machine.

11. Grant Cohen. A normal guy completely losing it due to supernatural forces, what could be better than that? I also like the canon-based idea some have come up with that there’s something sinister about him.

12. Lacie Benton. I love me a tough female technician, but we get precious little characterization of her.

13. Shawn Flynn. We get very little canon characterization of Shawn. That being said, I like what fans do with him.

Alright, on to mine. I know some of this might seem like bragging, but really I’m just rambling about how much I enjoyed playing with my toys, okay? Their ranking doesn’t even equal which of them I think I did the best job with.

1. Norman Polk. Okay, I made some choices for Norman that are downright bizarre (namely giving him an upbringing in a cult and the ability to use stealth and read people so well it’s almost supernatural), and I’m sure a better writer would have done something better and far more canon-compliant with him. But gosh, did I enjoy writing him. I love him in pretty much any role, I love his kindness and fearlessness, I love the friendship I gave him with Grant and my headcanons for his traumatic past and how he healed from it and the family he built, I just. Love him. I also enjoyed making a more realistic version of the character for the Step Right Up AU.

2. Sammy Lawrence. Sammy probably deserves the #1 slot, honestly. He’s the character I wrote the most, the star of some of my favourites, one of the ones I find easiest to write, and I’ve pretty much mapped out his entire time at JDS in my writing. He has so much potential for angst, shipping, heroism, villainy, and interactions with various other characters. I especially like writing tender stuff with him and Jack, and drama between him and Joey, but there are very few characters he doesn’t have some kind of connection with. He’s really versatile to write.

3. Allison Pendle. Like with Norman, I made some questionable decisions with her, and I do worry that I might have made her too powerful or too nonchalant at times. That being said, she’s been very useful for me when it comes to showing a softer side to magic, and I greatly enjoy using her as a heroic character and a good influence on other characters, like Susie, Thomas, and Joey (in AUs). She’s someone I could look up to in a lot of ways, and writing her just makes me feel good.

4. Jack Fain. Okay, I don’t think I actually did that great a job on Jack to be honest, and I didn’t make him into a very versatile character, but I just love him for his sweetness alone. If there’s one character I could save, it would be him. He deserves a nice, long life.

5. Grant Cohen. I don’t know how obvious this is, but I often find Grant hard to write, and I changed mine quite a bit over the years. I don’t always feel like I do him justice. That being said, he’s one of the characters I thought of most, and I ended up making very detailed headcanons about his family, life, and friendships, so I’m extremely fond of him.

6. Susie Campbell. Gosh, I love Susie’s sweetness, enthusiasm, optimism and ambition. The poor girl just got in over her head at every turn and had so much going against her. I don’t know how to explain it, I just like her.

7. Joey Drew. Gosh, I love Joey’s canon character so much that I feel kind of bad for deviating from it! But Joey makes such a useful and compelling villain, and making him a little more eager to share his magic let me do fun things with him and other characters, like Sammy and Allison. I love his ability to fool himself and others, and his relentless positivity.

8. Thomas Connor. Thomas is kind of the anti-Allison: responsibility and forethought come easily to him, but positivity and kindness don’t. I love how they balance each other out. I do wish I’d found more uses for him than just Allison’s partner, though.

9. Shawn Flynn. Man, it’s too bad that I never found more use for Shawn, because I really like my version of him. He’s an extremely resilient and sociable person who isn’t afraid to cut against the grain and can find his people wherever he goes, and I would have liked to go deeper into his story as a transgender person and an immigrant, as well as his friendship with Lacie. He’s a respectable person with an eventful, unconventional life, and I wish I knew how to tell his story in a compelling way.

10. Lacie Benton. Very similarly to Shawn, I love and respect Lacie, but didn’t have a lot of chances to use her. I greatly enjoyed the opportunities I did get to write her, though.

11. Henry Stein. Man, Henry used to be one of my favourites, but I just kept developing the others and just never really continued to have ideas for him. Adding to that, I starting writing more stories that took place after he left, and well... yeah. He unfortunately kind of fell to the wayside.

12. Wally Franks. I love Wally’s personality, but I never had a ton of headcanons for him beyond fanon and never had a lot of ideas for him or gave him a ton of use.

13. Bertrum Piedmont. Up until about a year ago, I thought very little of Bertrum, and even now I don’t have a lot of headcanons, let alone story ideas for him. I like him in the books and he clearly has potential, just not in my hands, apparently.

[the-sycophant]

22.  QUEST :  for one muse to help the other with a task in exchange for compensation. (Arcuris Rilanox)

[Comprehensive List of Scenarios Prompt]

Those in Val Saule craved coin to a despicable amount, no doubt the core reason the trading town continued its downward spiral into over indulgence, petty crime and heartache. Primarily relying on bartering during the War, material goods and services were much more valuable to exchange when gil lost all meaning. Logging, furs, even hunting the odd night creatures that stalked the surrounding woods sustained them for a time...but when the sky port opened again — when the traders, merchants and undeniably sinister visitors returned through the very good and not at all corrupt port authority — it brought coin. And with the coin came the booze, and the drugs, and the crime. The desire for more, for what their neighbor had, for what they saw when the elite stopped to rest. It made people suffer, made her suffer.

Marlowe needed gil just as much as everyone else. She couldn't sustain on the kindness of others, on the meager donations provided to the dilapidated Temple she worked in. Lived in. It made opportunities like this so very hard to reject. The distant echoing thought of suspiciously convenient urged her to stay put for once—

But she needed it. Just as Etoile needed her daily nightcap, as Mr. Harper needed his whores. Though the longer he spoke, it seemed the job itself was not quite so terrible compared to other things she had done. To her pleasant surprise she had been to where he was asking to go many times, and he not only looked like an incredible deterrent to any sort of trouble, he knew how to defend himself. 

What luck! 

If she didn't have to purchase an additional sellsword, she could attempt to perform another job at the same time. Surely she could cajole him to accompany her further than his destination? Would he abandon her once they were so far out? She'd be sure to force the issue later...that always went well. 

Marlowe stared at him, brow knitted in contemplation as she pressed a gloved thumb to her bottom lip, leaning forward over her desk as he continued, distracted.

The size of him! Ridiculous! 

She knew many of the return visitors to Val Saule, and he was certainly not one of them. Marlowe already regretted offering him a place to stay in the Temple, to eat in the Temple...the appetite on him was outrageously curious, and she had to literally bite her knuckle to stop herself from saying anything as he ate through what supplies she had. 

Her tongue flicked out against her cracked lips, and drooping, tired eyes lifted from the offer laid out before her, "Very well. I can escort you through the ravine." She tapped on the arm of her chair, already feeling giddy with restlessness, eager to get out again. Could he even use a chocobo? He was not as tall as the tallest Elezen, but the musculature was so great, dense. Even through his layers of clothes and peeking armor she knew that much from the way he moved. It wasn't her problem, she supposed.

The young woman cleared her throat, absently rubbing under an eye as she stood, glancing out the frosted window as the rarity of sun peeked through. Puh. "I can leave as soon as you are ready. I cannot, however, supply you with...additional rations." An almost drawling mumble to try and hide the tone of condemnation for something he likely couldn't control. "But I can bring you, and aid you if needed. You are correct in that the storms have brought down many a ship, both pre-calamity and after. You'll be free to dig and salvage to your heart's content." A thin smile, eyes narrowing as she wondered how he planned on retrieving the technology he sought when few others had managed before. She was also interested in seeing what it was exactly he was searching for. "In any case, I look forward to working with you, and the Temple is appreciative of your generous offer."

@voidtekarc - Arcuris Rilanox

[thatscarletflycatcher]

The Squire’s Story (1854) by Elizabeth Gaskell

In the year 1769 the little town of Barford was thrown into a state of great excitement by the intelligence that a gentleman (and 'quite the gentleman', said the landlord of the George Inn) had been looking at Mr. Clavering's old house. This house was neither in the town nor in the country. It stood on the outskirts of Barford, on the roadside leading to Derby. The last occupant had been a Mr. Clavering, a Northumberland gentleman of good family who had come to live in Barford while he was but a younger son; but when some elder branches of the family died, he had returned to take possession of the family estate. The house of which I speak was called the White House, from its being covered with a greyish kind of stucco. It had a good garden to the back, and Mr. Clavering had built capital stables, with what were then considered the latest improvement. The point of good stabling was expected to let the house, as it was in a hunting county; otherwise it had few recommendation. There were many bedrooms; some entered through others, even to the number of five, leading one beyond the other; several sitting-rooms of the small and poky kind, wainscoted round with wood, and then painted a heavy slate colour; one good dining-room, and a drawing-room over it, both looking into the garden, with pleasant bow-windows.

Such was the accommodation offered by the White House. It did not seem to be very tempting to strangers, though the good people of Barford rather piqued themselves on it, as the largest house in the town; and as a house in which 'townspeople' and 'county people' had often met at Mr. Clavering's friendly dinners. To appreciate this circumstance of pleasant recollection, you should have lived some years in a little country town, surrounded by gentlemen's seats. You would then understand how a bow or a courtesy from a member of a county family elevates the individuals who receive it almost as much, in their own eyes, as the pair of blue garters fringed with silver did Mr. Bickerstaff's ward. They trip lightly on air for a whole day afterwards. Now Mr. Clavering was gone, where could town and county mingle?

I mention these things that you may have an idea of the desirability of the letting of the White House in the Barfordites' imagination; and to make the mixture thick and slab, you must add for yourselves the bustle, the mystery, and the importance which every little event either causes or assumes in a small town; and then, perhaps, it will be no wonder to ---- you that twenty ragged little urchins accompanied the 'gentleman' aforesaid to the door of the White House; and that, although he was above an hour inspecting it, under the auspices of Mr. Jones, the agent's clerk, thirty more had joined themselves on to the wondering crowd before his exit, and awaited such crumbs of intelligence as they could gather before they were threatened or whipped out of hearing distance. Presently, out came the 'gentleman' and the lawyer's clerk. The latter was speaking as he followed the former over the threshold. The gentleman was tall, well-dressed, handsome; but there was a sinister cold look in his quick-glancing, light blue eye, which a keen observer might not have liked. There were no keen observers among the boys, and ill-conditioned gaping girls. But they stood too near; inconveniently close; and the gentleman, lifting up his right hand, in which he carried a short riding-whip, dealt one or two sharp blows to the nearest, with a look of savage enjoyment on his face as they moved away whimpering and crying. An instant after, his expression of countenance had changed.

'Here!' said he, drawing out a handful of money, partly silver, partly copper, and throwing it into the midst of them. 'Scramble for it! fight it out, my lads! come this afternoon, at three, to the George, and I'll throw you out some more.' So the boys hurrahed for him as he walked off with the agent's clerk. He chuckled to himself, as over a pleasant thought. 'I'll have some fun with those lads,' he said; 'I'll teach 'em to come prowling and prying about me. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll make the money so hot in the fire-shovel that it shall burn their fingers. You come and see the faces and the howling. I shall be very glad if you will dine with me at two; and by that time I may have made up my mind respecting the house.'

Mr. Jones, the agent's clerk, agreed to come to the George at two, but, somehow, he had a distaste for his entertainer. Mr. Jones would not like to have said, even to himself, that a man with a purse full of money, who kept many horses, and spoke familiarly of noblemen----above all, who thought of taking the White House----could be anything but a gentleman; but still the uneasy wonder as to who this Mr. Robinson Higgins could be, filled the clerk's mind long after Mr. Higgins, Mr. Higgins's servants, and Mr. Higgins's stud had taken possession of the White House.

The White House was re-stuccoed (this time of a pale yellow colour), and put into thorough repair by the accommodating and delighted landlord; while his tenant seemed inclined to spend any amount of money on internal decorations, which were showy and effective in their character, enough to make the White House a nine days' wonder to the good people of Barford. The slate-colored paints became pink, and were picked out with gold; the old-fashioned banisters were replaced by newly gilt ones; but, above all, the stables were a sight to be see. Since the days of the Roman Emperor never was there such provision made for the care, the comfort, and the health of horse. But every one said it was no wonder, when they were led through Barford, covered up to their eyes, but curving their arched and delicate necks, and prancing with short high steps, in repressed eagerness. Only one groom came with them; yet they required the care of three men. Mr. Higgins, however, preferred engaging two lads out of Barford; and Barford highly approved of his preference. Not only was it kind and thoughtful to give employment to the lounging lads themselves, but they were receiving such a training in Mr. Higgins's stables as might fit them for Doncaster or Newmarket. The district of Derbyshire in which Barford was situated, was too close to Leicestershire not to support a hunt and a pack of hounds. The master of the hounds was a certain Sir Harry Manley, who was aut a huntsman aut nullus. He measured a man by the 'length of his fork', not by the expression of his countenance, or the shape of his head. But as Sir Harry was wont to observe, there was such a thing as too long a fork, so his approbation was withheld until he had seen a man on horseback; and if his seat there was square and easy, his hand light, and his courage good, Sir Harry hailed him as a brother.

Mr. Higgins attended the first meet of the season, not as a subscriber but as an amateur. The Barford huntsmen piqued themselves on their bold riding; and their knowledge of the country came by nature; yet this new strange man, whom nobody knew, was in at the death, sitting on his horse, both well breathed and calm, without a hair turned on the sleek skin of the latter, supremely addressing the old huntsman as he hacked off the tail of the fox; and he, the old man, who was testy even under Sir Harry's slightest rebuke, and flew out on any other member of the hunt that dared to utter a word against his sixty years' experience as stable-boy, groom, poacher, and what not----he, old Isaac Wormeley, was meekly listening to the wisdom of this stranger, only now and then giving one of his quick, up-turning, cunning glances, not unlike the sharp o'er-canny looks of the poor deceased Reynard, round whom the hounds were howling, unadmonished by the short whip, which was now tucked into Wormeley's well-worn pocket. When Sir Harry rode into the copse----full of dead brushwood and wet tangled grass----and was followed by the members of the hunt, as one by one they cantered past, Mr. Higgins took off his cap and bowed----half deferentially, half insolently----with a lurking smile in the corner of his eye at the discomfited looks of one or two of the laggards. 'A famous run, sir,' said Sir Harry. 'The first time you have hunted in our country; but I hope we shall see you often.'

'I hope to become a member of the hunt, sir,' said Mr. Higgins.

'Most happy----proud, I am sure, to receive so daring a rider among us. You took the Copper-gate, I fancy; while some of our friends here'----scowling at one or two cowards by way of finishing his speech. 'Allow me to introduce myself----master of the hounds.' He fumbled in his waistcoat pocket for the card on which his name was formally inscribed. 'Some of our friends here are kind enough to come home with me to dinner; might I ask for the honour?'

'My name is Higgins,' replied the stranger, bowing low. 'I am only lately come to occupy the White House at Barford, and I have not as yet presented my letters of introduction.'

'Hang it!' replied Sir Harry; 'a man with a seat like yours, and that good brush in your hand, might ride up to any door in the county (I'm a Leicestershire man!), and be a welcome guest. Mr. Higgins, I shall be proud to become better acquainted with you over my dinner table.'

Mr. Higgins knew pretty well how to improve the acquaintance thus begun. He could sing a good song, tell a good story, and was well up in practical jokes; with plenty of that keen worldly sense, which seems like an instinct in some men, and which in this case taught him on whom he might play off such jokes, with impunity from their resentment, and with a security of applause from the more boisterous, vehement, or prosperous. At the end of twelve months Mr. Robinson Higgins was, out-and-out, the most popular member of the Barford hunt; had beaten all the others by a couple of lengths, as his first patron, Sir Harry, observed one evening, when they were just leaving the dinner-table of an old hunting squire in the neighbourhood.

'Because, you know,' said Squire Hearn, holding Sir Harry by the button----' I mean, you see, this young spark is looking sweet upon Catherine; and she's a good girl, and will have ten thousand pounds down, the day she's married, by her mother's will; and----excuse me, Sir Harry----but I should not like my girl to throw herself away.'

Though Sir Harry had a long ride before him, and but the early and short light of a new moon to take it in, his kind heart was so much touched by Squire Hearn's trembling, tearful anxiety, that he stopped and turned back into the dining-room to say, with more asseverations than I care to give:

'My good Squire, I may say, I know that man pretty well by this time; and a better fellow never existed. If I had twenty daughters he should have the pick of them.'

Squire Hearn never thought of asking the grounds for his old friend's opinion of Mr. Higgins; it had been given with too much earnestness for any doubts to cross the old man's mind as to the possibility of its not being well founded. Mr. Hearn was not a doubter, or a thinker, or suspicious by nature; it was simply his love for Catherine, his only daughter, that prompted his anxiety in this case; and, after what Sir Harry had said, the old man could totter with an easy mind, though not with very steady legs, into the drawing-room, where his bonny, blushing daughter Catherine and Mr. Higgins stood close together on the hearth-rug-he whispering, she listening with downcast eyes. She looked so happy, so like her dead mother had looked when the Squire was a young man, that all his thought was how to please her most. His son and heir was about to be married, and bring his wife to live with the Squire; Barford and the White House were not distant an hour's ride; and, even as these thoughts passed through his mind, he asked Mr. Higgins, if he could stay all night----the young moon was already set----the roads would be dark----and Catherine looked up with a pretty anxiety, which, however, had not much doubt in it, for the answer.

With every encouragement of this kind from the old Squire, it took everybody rather by surprise when, one morning, it was discovered that Miss Catherine Hearn was missing; and when, according to the usual fashion in such cases, a note was found, saying that she had eloped with 'the man of her heart', and gone to Gretna Green, no one could imagine why she could not quietly have stopped at home and been married in the parish church. She had always been a romantic, sentimental girl; very pretty and very affectionate, and very much spoiled, and very much wanting in common sense. Her indulgent father was deeply hurt at this want of confidence in his never-varying affection; but when his son came, hot with indignation from the Baronet's (his future father-in-law's house, where every form of law and of ceremony was to accompany his own impending marriage), Squire Hearn pleaded the cause of the young couple with imploring cogency, and protested that it was a piece of spirit in his daughter, which he admired and was proud of. However, it ended with Mr. Nathaniel Hearn's declaring that he and his wife would have nothing to do with his sister and her husband. 'Wait till you've seen him, Nat!' said the old Squire, trembling with his distressful anticipations of family discord. 'He's an excuse for any girl. Only ask Sir Harry's opinion of him.' Confound Sir Harry! So that a man sits his horse well, Sir Harry cares nothing about anything else. who is this man----this fellow? where does he come from? What are his means? Who are his family?'

'He comes from the south----Surrey or Somersetshire, I forget which; and he pays his way well and liberally. There's not a tradesman in Barford but says he cares no more for money than for water; he spends like a prince, Nat, I don't know who his family are, but he seals with a coat of arms, which may tell you if you want to know----and he goes regularly to collect his rents from his estates in the south. Oh, Nat! if you would but be friendly, I should be as well pleased with Kitty's marriage as any father in the county.'

Mr. Nathaniel Hearn gloomed, and muttered an oath or two to himself. The poor old father was reaping the consequences of his weak indulgence to his two children. Mr. and Mrs. Nathaniel Hearn kept apart from Catherine and her husband; and Squire Hearn durst never ask them to Levison Hall, though it was his own house. Indeed, he stole away as if he were a culprit whenever he went to visit the White House; and if he passed a night there, he was fain to equivocate when he returned home the next day; an equivocation which was well interpreted by the surly, proud Nathaniel. But the younger Mr. and Mrs. Hearn were the only people who did not visit at the White House. Mr. and Mrs. Higgins were decidedly more popular than their brother and sister-in-law. She made a very pretty, sweet-tempered hostess, and her education had not been such as to make her intolerant of any want of refinement in the associates who gathered round her husband. She had gentle smiles for towns-people as well as county people; and unconsciously played an admirable second in her husband's project of making himself universally popular.

But there is some one to make ill-natured remarks, and draw ill-natured conclusions from very simple premises, in every place; and in Barford this bird of ill-omen was a Miss Pratt. She did not hunt----so Mr. Higgins's admirable riding did not call out her admiration. She did not drink----so the well-selected wines, so lavishly dispensed among his guests, could never mollify Miss Pratt. She could not bear comic songs, or buffo stories----so, in that way, her approbation was impregnable And these three secrets of popularity constituted Mr. Higgins's great charm. Miss Pratt sat and watched. Her face looked immovably grave at the end of any of Mr. Higgins's best stories; but there was a keen, needle-like glance of her unwinking little eyes, which Mr. Higgins felt rather than saw, and which made him shiver, even on a hot day, when it fell upon him. Miss Pratt was a dissenter, and, to propitiate this female Mordecai, Mr. Higgins asked the dissenting minister whose services she attended, to dinner; kept himself and his company in good order; gave a handsome donation to the poor of the chapel. All in vain----Miss Pratt stirred not a muscle more of her face towards graciousness; and Mr. Higgins was conscious that, in spite of all his open efforts to captivate Mr. Davis, there was a secret influence on the other side, throwing in doubts and suspicions, and evil interpretations of all he said or did. Miss Pratt, the little, plain old maid, living on eighty pounds a year, was the thorn in the popular Mr. Higgins's side, although she had never spoken one uncivil word to him; indeed, on the contrary, had treated him with a stiff and elaborate civility.

The thorn----the grief to Mrs. Higgins was this. They had no children! Oh! how she would stand and envy the careless, busy motion of half a dozen children; and then, when observed, move on with a deep, deep sigh of yearning regret. But it was as well.

It was noticed that Mr. Higgins was remarkably careful of his health. He ate, drank, took exercise, rested, by some secret rules of his own; occasionally bursting into an excess, it is true, but only on rare occasions-such as when he returned from visiting his estates in the south, and collecting his rents. That unusual exertion and fatigue----for there were no stage-coaches within forty miles of Barford, and he, like most country gentlemen of that day, would have preferred riding if there had been----seemed to require some strange excess to compensate for it; and rumours went through the town that he shut himself up, and drank enormously for some days after his return. But no one was admitted to these orgies.

One day----they remembered it well afterwards----the hounds met not far from the town; and the fox was found in a part of the wild heath, which was beginning to be enclosed by a few of the more wealthy townspeople, who were desirous of building themselves houses rather more in the country than those they had hitherto lived in. Among these, the principal was a Mr. Dudgeon, the attorney of Barford, and the agent for all the county families about. The firm of Dudgeon had managed the leases, the marriage-settlements, and the wills, of the neighbourhood for generations. Mr. Dudgeon's father had the responsibility of collecting the landowners' rents just as the present Mr. Dudgeon had at the time of which I speak: and as his son and his son's son have done since. Their business was an hereditary estate to them; and with something of the old feudal feeling was mixed a kind of proud humility at their position towards the squires whose family secrets they had mastered, and the mysteries of whose fortunes and estates were better known to the Messrs. Dudgeon than to themselves.

Mr. John Dudgeon had built himself a house on Wildbury Heath; a mere cottage as he called it: but though only two stories high, it spread out far and wide, and workpeople from Derby had been sent for on purpose to make the inside as complete as possible. The gardens too were exquisite in arrangement, if not very extensive; and not a flower was grown in them but of the rarest species. It must have been somewhat of a mortification to the owner of this dainty place when, on the day of which I speak, the fox, after a long race, during which he had described a circle of many miles, took refuge in the garden; but Mr. Dudgeon put a good face on the matter when a gentleman hunter, with the careless insolence of the squires of those days and that place, rode across the velvet lawn, and tapping at the window of the dining-room with his whip-handle, asked permission------no! that is not it------rather, informed Mr. Dudgeon of their intention------to enter his garden in a body, and have the fox unearthed. Mr. Dudgeon compelled himself to smile assent, with the grace of a masculine Griselda; and then he hastily gave orders to have all that the house afforded of provision set out for luncheon, guessing rightly enough that a six hours' run would give even homely fare an acceptable welcome. He bore without wincing the entrance of the dirty boots into his exquisitely clean rooms; he only felt grateful for the care with which Mr. Higgins strode about, laboriously and noiselessly moving on the tip of his toes, as he reconnoitred the rooms with a curious eye.

'I'm going to build a house myself, Dudgeon; and, upon my word, I don't think I could take a better model than yours.'

'Oh! my poor cottage would be too small to afford any hints for such a house as you would wish to build, Mr. Higgins,' replied Mr. Dudgeon, gently rubbing his hands nevertheless at the compliment.

'Not at all! not at all! Let me see. You have dining-room, drawing-room------he hesitated, and Mr. Dudgeon filled up the blank as he expected.

'Four sitting-rooms and the bedrooms. But allow me to show you over the house. I confess I took some pains in arranging it, and, though far smaller than what you would require, it may, nevertheless, afford you some hints.'

So they left the eating gentlemen with their mouths and their plates quite full, and the scent of the fox over-powering that of the hasty rashers of ham; and they carefully inspected all the ground-floor rooms. The Mr. Dudgeon said:

'If you are not tired, Mr. Higgins------it is rather my hobby, so you must pull me up if you are------we will go upstairs, and I will show you my sanctum.'

Mr. Dudgeon's sanctum was the centre room, over the porch, which formed a balcony, and which was carefully filled with choice flowers in pots. Inside, there were all kinds of elegant contrivances for hiding the real strength of all the boxes and chests required by the particular nature of Mr. Dudgeon's business: for although his office was in Barford, he kept (as he informed Mr. Higgins) what was the most valuable here, as being safer than an office which was locked up and left every night. But, as Mr. Higgins reminded him with a sly poke in the side, when next they met, his own house was not over-secure. A fortnight after the gentlemen of the Barford hunt lunched there, Mr. Dudgeon's strong-box, in his sanctum upstairs, with the mysterious spring-bolt to the window invented by himself, and the secret of which was only known to the inventor and a few of his most intimate friends, to whom he had proudly shown it; this strong-box, containing the collected Christmas rents of half a dozen landlords (there was then no bank nearer than Derby), was rifled; and the secretly rich Mr. Dudgeon had to stop his agent in his purchases of paintings by Flemish artists, because the money was required to make good the missing rents.

The Dogberries and Verges of those days were quite incapable of obtaining any clue to the robber or robbers; and though one or two vagrants were taken up and brought before Mr. Dunover and Mr. Higgins, the magistrates who usually attended in the court-room at Barford, there was no evidence brought against them, and after a couple of nights' durance in the lock-ups they were set at liberty. But it became a standing joke with Mr. Higgins to ask Mr. Dudgeon, from time to time, whether he could recommend him a place of safety for his valuables; or, if he had made any more inventions lately for securing houses from robbers.

About two years after this time----about seven years after Mr. Higgins had been married----one Tuesday evening Mr. Davis was sitting reading the news in the coffee-room of the George Inn. He belonged to a club of gentlemen who met there occasionally to play at whist, to read what few newspapers and magazines were published in those days, to chat about the market at Derby, and prices all over the country. This Tuesday night it was a black frost; and few people were in the room. Mr. Davis was anxious to finish an article in the Gentleman's Magazine; indeed, he was making extracts from it, intending to answer it, and yet unable with his small income to purchase a copy. So he stayed late; it was past nine, and at ten o'clock the room was closed. But while he wrote, Mr. Higgins came in. He was pale and haggard with cold. Mr. Davis, who had had for some time sole possession of the fire, moved politely on one side, and handed to the new-comer the sole London newspaper which the room afforded. Mr. Higgins accepted it, and made some remark on the intense coldness of the weather; but Mr. Davis was too full of his article, and intended reply, to fall into conversation readily. Mr. Higgins hitched his chair nearer to the fire, and put his feet on the fender, giving an audible shudder. He put the news-paper on one end of the table near him, and sat gazing into the red embers of the fire, crouching down over them as if his very marrow were chilled. At length he said.

'There is no account of the murder at Bath in that paper?' Mr. Davis, who had finished taking his notes, and was preparing to go, stopped short, and asked:

'Has there been a murder at Bath? No! I have not seen anything of it----who was murdered ?'

'Oh! it was a shocking, terrible murder!' said Mr. Higgins, not raising his look from the fire, but gazing on with his eyes dilated till the whites were seen all round them. 'A terrible, terrible murder! I wonder what will become of the murderer? I can fancy the red glowing centre of that fire-look and see how infinitely distant it seems, and how the distance magnifies it into something awful and unquenchable.'

'My dear sir, you are feverish; how you shake and shiver !' said Mr. Davis, thinking privately that his companion had symptoms of fever, and that he was wandering in his mind.

'Oh, no!' said Mr. Higgins. 'I am not feverish. It is the night which is so cold.' And for a time he talked with Mr. Davis about the article in the Gentleman's Magazine, for he was rather a reader himself, and could take more interest in Mr. Davis's pursuits than most of the people at Barford. At length it drew near to ten, and Mr. Davis rose up to go home to his lodgings.

'No, Davis, don't go. I want you here. We will have a bottle of port together, and that will put Saunders into good humour. I want to tell you about this murder,' he continued, dropping his voice, and speaking hoarse and low. 'She was an old woman, and he killed her, sitting reading her Bible by her own fireside!' He looked at Mr. Davis with a strange searching gaze, as if trying to find some sympathy in the horror which the idea presented to him.

'Who do you mean, my dear sir? What is this murder you are so full of? No one has been murdered here.'

'No, you fool! I tell you it was in Bath!' said Mr. Higgins, with sudden passion; and then calming himself to most velvet-smoothness of manner, he laid his hand on Mr. Davis's knee, there, as they sat by the fire, and gently detaining him, began the narration of the crime he was so full of; but his voice and manner were constrained to a stony quietude: he never looked in Mr. Davis's face; once or twice, as Mr. Davis remembered afterwards, his grip tightened like a compressing vice.

'She lived in a small house in a quiet old-fashioned street, she and her maid. People said she was a good old woman; but for all that, she hoarded and hoarded, and never gave to the poor. Mr. Davis, it is wicked not to give to the poor----wicked----wicked, is it not? I always give to the poor, for once I read in the Bible that "Charity covereth a multitude of sins". The wicked old woman never gave, but hoarded her money, and saved, and saved. Some one heard of it; I say she threw temptation in his way, and God will punish her for it. And this man----or it might be a woman, who knows?----and this person heard also that she went to church in the mornings, and her maid in the afternoons; and so----while the maid was at church, and the street and the house quite still, and the darkness of a winter afternoon coming on----she was nodding over the Bible----and that, mark you! is a sin, and one that God will avenge sooner or later; and a step came in the dusk up the stair, and that person I told you of stood in the room. At first he----no! At first, it is supposed----for, you understand, all this is mere guess-work----it is supposed that he asked her civilly enough to give him her money, or to tell him where it was; but the old miser defied him, and would not ask for mercy and give up her keys, even when he threatened her, but looked him in the face as if he had been a baby----Oh, God! Mr. Davis, I once dreamt when I was a little innocent boy that I should commit a crime like this, and I wakened up crying; and my mother comforted me-that is the reason I tremble so now----that and the cold, for it is very very cold!'

'But did he murder the old lady?' asked Mr. Davis. 'I beg your pardon, sir, but I am interested by your story.'

'Yes! he cut her throat; and there she lies yet in her quiet little parlour, with her face upturned and all ghastly white, in the middle of a pool of blood. Mr. Davis, this wine is no better than water; I must have some brandy!'

Mr. Davis was horror-struck by the story, which seemed to have fascinated him as much as it had done his companion.

'Have they got any clue to the murderer?' said he. Mr. Higgins drank down half a tumbler of raw brandy before he answered.

'No! no clue whatever. They will never be able to discover him; and I should not wonder, Mr. Davis----should not wonder if he repented after all, and did bitter penance for his crime; and if so----will there be mercy for him at the last day?'

'God knows!' said Mr. Davis, with solemnity. 'It is an awful story,' continued he, rousing himself; 'I hardly like to leave this warm light room and go out into the darkness after hearing it. But it must be done,' buttoning on his greatcoat------I can only say I hope and trust they will find out the murderer and hang him------If you'll take my advice, Mr. Higgins, you'll have your bed warmed, and drink a treacle-posset just the last thing; and, if you'll allow me, I'll send you my answer to Philologus before it goes up to old Urban.'

The next morning, Mr. Davis went to call on Miss Pratt, who was not very well; and, by way of being agreeable and entertaining, he related to her all he had heard the night before about the murder at Bath; and really he made a very pretty connected story out of it, and interested Miss Pratt very much in the fate of the old lady----partly because of a similarity in their situations; for she also privately hoarded money, and had but one servant, and stopped at home alone on Sunday afternoons to allow her servant to go to church.

'And when did all this happen?' she asked.

'I don't know if Mr. Higgins named the day; and yet I think it must have been on this very last Sunday.'

'And to-day is Wednesday. Ill news travels fast.'

'Yes, Mr. Higgins thought it might have been in the London newspaper.'

'That it could never be. Where did Mr. Higgins learn all about it?'

'I don't know; I did not ask. I think he only came home yesterday: he had been south to collect his rents, somebody said.'

Miss Pratt grunted. She used to vent her dislike and suspicions of Mr. Higgins in a grunt whenever his name was mentioned.

'Well, I shan't see you for some days. Godfred Merton has asked me to go and stay with him and his sister; and I think it will do me good. Besides,' added she, 'these winter evenings----and these murderers at large in the country----I don't quite like living with only Peggy to call to in case of need.'

Miss Pratt went to stay with her cousin, Mr. Merton. He was an active magistrate, and enjoyed his reputation as such. One day he came in, having just received his letters.

'Bad account of the morals of your little town here, Jessy!' said he, touching one of his letter. 'You've either a murderer among you, or some friend of a murderer. Here's a poor old lady at Bath had her throat cut last Sunday week; and I've a letter from the Home Office, asking to lend them "my very efficient aid", as they are pleased to call it, towards finding out the culprit. It seems he must have been thirsty, and of a comfortable jolly turn; for before going to his horrid work he tapped a barrel of ginger wine the old lady had set by to work; and he wrapped the spigot round with a piece of a letter taken out of his pocket, as may be supposed; and this piece of a letter was found afterwards; there are only these letters on the outside, "ns, Esq., -arford, -egwor'h," which some one has ingeniously made out to mean Barford, near Kegworth. On the other side there is some allusion to a race-horse, I conjecture, though the name is singular enough: "Church-and-King-and-down-with-the-Rump."'

Miss Pratt caught at this name immediately; it had hurt her feelings as a dissenter only a few months ago, and she remembered it well.

'Mr. Nat Hearn has----or had (as I am speaking in the witness-box, as it were, I must take care of my tenses), a horse with that ridiculous name.'

'Mr. Nat Hearn,' repeated Mr. Merton, making a note of the intelligence; then he recurred to his letter from the Home Office again.

'There is also a piece of a small key, broken in the futile attempt to open a desk----well, well. Nothing more of consequence. The letter is what we must rely upon.'

'Mr. Davis said that Mr. Higgins told him----' Miss Pratt began.

'Higgins!' exclaimed Mr. Merton, 'ns. Is it Higgins, the blustering fellow that ran away with Nat Hearn's sister?'

'Yes!' said Miss Pratt. 'But though he has never been a favourite of mine----'

'ns,' repeated Mr. Merton. 'It is too horrible to think of; a member of the hunt-kind old Squire Hearn's son-in-law! Who else have you in Barford with names that end in ns?'

'There's Jackson, and Higginson, and Blenkinsop, and Davis, and Jones. Cousin! One thing strikes me----how did Mr. Higgins know all about it to tell Mr. Davis on Tuesday what had happened on Sunday afternoon?'

There is no need to add much more. Those curious in lives of the highwayman may find the name of Higgins as conspicuous among those annals as that of Claude Duval. Kate Hearn's husband collected his rents on the highway, like many another 'gentleman' of the day; but, having been unlucky in one or two of his adventures, and hearing exaggerated accounts of the hoarded wealth of the old lady at Bath, he was led on from robbery to murder, and was hung for his crime at Derby, in 1775.

He had not been an unkind husband; and his poor wife took lodgings in Derby to be near him in his last moments----his awful last moments. Her old father went with her everywhere but into her husband's cell; and wrung her heart by constantly accusing himself of having promoted her marriage with a man of whom he knew so little. He abdicated his squireship in favour of his son Nathaniel. Nat was prosperous, and the helpless silly father could be of no use to him; but to his widowed daughter the foolish fond old man was all in all; her knight, her protector, her companion----her most faithful loving companion. Only he ever declined assuming the office of her councellor-shaking his head sadly, and saying----

'Ah! Kate, Kate! if I had had more wisdom to have advised thee better, thou need'st not have been an exile here in Brussels, shrinking from the sight of every English person as if they knew thy story.

I saw the White House not a month ago; it was to let, perhaps for the twentieth time since Mr. Higgins occupied it; but still the tradition goes in Barford that once upon a time a highwayman lived there, and amassed untold treasures; and that the ill-gotten wealth yet remains walled up in some unknown concealed chamber; but in what part of the house no one knows.

Will any of you become tenants, and try to find out this mysterious closet? I can furnish the exact address to any applicant who wishes for it.

THE END.

[flying-elliska]

so, I finished the magnus archives ...(spoilers)

unfortunately i'd been spoiled for most of what happened in it but it was still cool to listen to especially since the audio work on it was incredible (those haunted tape noises are the coolest thing i've ever heard on a podcast, it was so slick)

it worked for me on the level of the emotional reaction. it was very sad and poignant. i often find horror stories difficult because either the characters are assholes and then i don't care and the whole thing becomes pointless for me or i get too attached to the characters and then I'm devastated when bad things happen to them and this was definitely the former. I really wish these characters existed in a spooky paranormal fantasy/workplace comedy-drama where they could get the comfort and overwinnings they deserved, but alas. i get they were bound by the genre though and that bad things needed to happen. i think they did a good job of balancing the horror and tragedy and not making it too grim at the same time.

it didn't blow me away either tbh, like for instance the s4 ending did. but i think after all the insane levels of world-building up they did, it was bound to be a bit underwhelming, with some arcs and characters left underused (Agnes!!!!). it misses a bit of a wow factor i had at other times in the series. the thing with horror is that there is only so far you can push character growth before it becomes too optimistic, and so when you go really deep into a character arc that's not strictly a corruption, it can often feel frustrating and unfinished in terms of emotional payoff.

I have mixed feelings about s5 as a whole. It's really cool that they experimented with something new, the concept of the fearscape is fascinating, and some of the statements are among my favorites in the whole show (the Sick Village, Recollections, the Gardener, Wonderland, the Processing Line, Moving on...) and really bring the cosmic horror/metaphor for the horrors of capitalism/ableism/abuse/etc in a way that feels strangely cathartic and understanding and glorious - but a lot of the others, especially in act 2/3, felt very forgettable and repetitive, and less like stories that could stand on their own, which i loved about the more traditional statements. Once it becomes clear that Jon (and Martin as a consequence) can't really be hurt, and the more it all becomes very detached from the real world, the sense of doom and foreboding that they did so well throughout the whole show kind of vanishes. The tension weirdly feels lower because the worst has already happened. I really believe in 'more is less' when it comes to scary things, and in a hell world where everything is horrible everywhere, it has less impact after a while. I did love the relationship between Jon and Martin providing those moments of humanity and warmth in the midst of it all, though, that was sweet.

the end itself...well, I found the dilemma interesting on a character level. of course Jon would sacrifice himself ; he feels so guilty he would doom the entire world to die rather than have to shoulder even more guilt for the fears potentially conquering other dimensions. he's spent so long feeling powerless and out of his depth that he would grasp this chance to finally make a choice and have agency and protect at least some people and keep the fears from extending their reach. but i love that he wasn't able to see it through either. it's so human. him and Martin breaking their promises to each other isn't miscommunication, it's deeply rooted in their respective personalities. of course Martin would do anything not to lose Jon since that love is basically the thing that saved him from the Lonely.

i don't think any of the options they had were the 'right choice' - both were shitty and atrocious, but the one that ended up happening is the one i would have picked, because it leaves some space for hope. If Jon had chosen to end their world to trap the fears, killing billions of people in the process, that would have been certain doom. With the fears sucked into other dimensions - first of all they had no certainty that the fears didn't already exist somewhere else, and any of the other worlds still have a fighting chance. I mean, it still sucks tremendously, it's very scary and ethically questionable and a massive risk, but at least it's open and it leaves it up to the people in the other worlds to make their own choices. And their world has a chance to recover. I find the idea that people remember what happened and the concept of a post-post apocalyptic world fascinating. I also really like that Melanie, Georgie and Basira (and the Admiral) made it out alive, and that we don't really know what happened to Jon and Martin. For a horror podcast that's super dark, violent and depressing, it's kind of awesome how they managed to sidestep 'bury your gays' very elegantly.

I've read this head canon somewhere of Jon and Martin being scattered across dimensions as these not-quite-human anymore entities that work to warn people and counteract the fears, powered by love and the desire to make things better, and I think that's my favorite post-canon option, because while it's still kind of a horrible fate it's also the one that gives them the most agency and it's also kind of romantic (way too much for a horror podcast, I'm aware, but i like that open endings like these allow you to make your own decisions about what happened).

also, the Web won, which is terrifying. the idea that it's using people as neurons ! horrible. amazing.

on a philosophical level I'm not sure i find the whole thing all that interesting, as a thought experiment, because i don't believe the universe is this consistently evil in the real world, so i don't find it super relevant. I'm also not the kind of hardcore fan who remembers a lot of details about previous seasons, so maybe I'm missing something.

But yeah overall I think in terms of storytelling this remains a pretty decent ending with enough layers to make it satisfying. it wasn't transcendent but it didn't ruin the whole thing, at least (*cough cough the Black Tapes*) and I can see myself listening to it again in a few years. and i'm definitely going to need a few fix-it fics now.

[five-rivers]

Green Sky Highway

Phic Phight Phic for @deuynndoodles

.

The Fenton Ecto Cell Bettery (aka the Better Battery) was designed to draw power from not only an internal, pre-charged store of ectoplasm, but also from ambient, atmospheric ectoplasm.  This meant that it would never run out of juice so long as it was in the Ghost Zone.  The Specter Speeder was designed to travel in the Ghost Zone.  Thus, the Betteries were the perfect power source for it.  In theory.  

In practice… Well, that just wasn’t working out, and Maddie didn’t know why.  She gripped the underside of the dash and tried to push herself deeper beneath it to get a better view of the machinery.  

“Maddie?  You see anything?” asked Jack, who couldn’t fit under the dash.  He’d been inspecting as much of the engine as he could from the inside, which wasn’t much.  The Speeder wasn’t designed to be serviced while free-floating in the Ghost Zone.  

Which, now that she thought of it, was a serious oversight.  

“Everything looks fine,” said Maddie.  “Except that it doesn’t have any power.  Nothing’s lighting up, but all the connections look good. You?”

“I can’t get anything to work.  Anything.  It’s like… we’re in some kind of technological dead zone.  But that doesn’t make sense.”

Maddie pulled herself out to see Jack vigorously scratching his head and shedding dandruff everywhere.  “Ghosts do tend to disrupt technology.”

“But we fixed that.  We designed all our weapons to work with that.”

“We know there are things we don’t know,” said Maddie, “and it’s always good to find new things!  Though not pleasant to find them out like this…”  They should really test their inventions more, honestly.  

But it had been over a year of testing since they opened the portal.  They had to jump in at some point, didn’t they?  That was the whole point of the portal.  

She sighed.  “Well, we didn’t have a lot of forward momentum when the portal cut out.”  She looked out the window.  “We could see if we can get out and engage our jetpacks.”

“Uh, about that,” said Jack.  He swung open the door to the jetpack cabinet.  The empty jetpack cabinet.  “I may have forgotten to put them back after refueling them.”

“Jack…”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

Maddie massaged the bridge of her nose with her mostly-clean knuckles.  This was a repeat of the handle inside the weapons vault.  At least he wasn’t pushing the blame for it back onto Danny or Jazz.  That would definitely have started a fight.  

On the other hand, there really wasn’t any guarantee the jetpacks would even still be functional, so maybe it was for the best. For certain values of best.  

She groaned.  

There was a knocking sound.  “Is that coming from the engine?” Maddie asked.  

“No…” said Jack, slowly.  “I think it came from the door…”

They both turned to stare.  Something moved outside it.  They shifted to get a better view out the window.  

Phantom was out there, tapping on the door with a ten-foot pole.  

“That little unnatural abomination,” cursed Jack under his breath.  “He’s going to scratch the paint!”

Phantom apparently saw them and waved.  “Hey!” he shouted, just loud enough to be heard through the walls of the Speeder.  “Do you guys need a lift?”

Jack and Maddie turned to each other.  

“How did he know we were here?”

“I don’t know,” said Jack.  “Do you think he followed us?”

“It wouldn’t be difficult, but I’m surprised he didn’t show up on our detectors.”

“He does seem to have the ability to drop off of them.”

“True,” said Maddie.  “So, how do we handle this?  Fenton bat?”

“I don’t know, Mads.  He might be, uh, sincere?  That time with the ectofiltrator he did help me.”

“That’s one, single, datapoint.  He’s a been a menace every other time we’ve encountered him.”

“I don’t know that we have much other choice,” said Jack, nodding towards the dead engines and the empty jetpack cabinet.

Maddie huffed out a sigh, then looked back at Phantom, who waved again.  

“Fine.  We still have to decide how to deal with him while we’re cooperating with him.  Or if he decides to show his true colors.”

“Good idea.”

.

Danny knew this had been a terrible, terrible idea the moment his parents opened the door to the Speeder armed to the teeth.  Why did they always feel the need to do that? None of the weapons, with the possible exceptions of the Fenton Bat and the Fenton Crowbar could even work here.

How his parents had, on their first jaunt into the Ghost Zone, managed to run smack into the Time Locked Lands was beyond him. They had to go to the one place in the Ghost Zone that the Speeder wouldn’t work and after coating the Speeder with some kind of anti-ghost spray that Danny absolutely refused to touch again.  Ever. Especially in ghost form.  Except with a ten-foot pole.

(If they’d left the spray off, he could have just pushed the Speeder back out of the Time Locked Lands.  But, no, they had to make everything as difficult and painful as possible.)

“I am not carrying all that,” said Danny, flatly.

(Especially because it would all turn back on once they left the Time Lost Lands, and if there wasn’t a Specter Deflector under all that, he’d eat his own belt.)

“Then we aren’t going anywhere with you!” proclaimed Maddie.  

“You’re stranded in the middle of the Ghost Zone. I don’t think you have a choice.”

“We do!”

“I could literally just fly over there and snatch you right now.  Plus, again, stranded.  Do you even have any food in there?”

“Of course we do!” said Maddie.  “We aren’t incompetent.”

Jack looked guilty.  Danny decided not to bring it up.

“Okay, but still, you’re going to run out eventually, and then you’ll still be floating in the Ghost Zone with no way to get out.  You aren’t going to get another friendly ghost coming by.”

“I’ve never seen a friendly ghost to begin with!”

“Maddie…”

“I can just leave, you know,” said Danny, planting his hands on his hips and bluffing for all he was worth.  He was not leaving his parents here to be used as hostages or who knew what else.  

Hopefully, they wouldn’t call the bluff.  They shouldn’t.  No sane, reasonable person would.  He was their only way out of this mess.  On the other hand, his parents had never been completely sane, reasonable people.  

Danny thought his odds were about fifty-fifty.  Which meant he could hope.  

Jack and Maddie had an intense, whispered conversation. This, thankfully, lead to them divesting themselves of most of their visible weaponry.  Which meant that they still had more guns on them than most professional soldiers during a firefight.  

Well, it was better than he’d expected.  But it was still too many.  

“Take the Specter Deflectors off,” he said.  “What do you think will happen if I try to carry you and you have those on.”

There was muttering.  

“Come on, come on,” said Danny, snapping his fingers. Which really shouldn’t work through his gloves but did anyway.  

Sometimes ghost nonsense was good for making lasers fly from your hands, and sometimes it was good for tiny aesthetic breaks in physics. It was a grab bag, really.  

“Alright,” said Danny.  “I’m going to fly over and pick you up.  Don’t hit me.”

Oh, jeez, he was not looking forward to carrying them all the way over to the portal.  Sure, he could bench press a school bus, but there was a difference between holding up a school bus for a minute and carrying two people who hated his guts a mile through enemy territory while flying slowly enough not to give them windburn.  

Sure, it’d probably only take a few minutes, even then, but those would be the longest few minutes in his entire life.  Not counting his actual death.  

.

Being carried by Phantom had to be the single worst experience in Jack’s entire life.  

It wasn’t the speed or the lack of control – he loved carnival rides – or the height – Jack couldn’t tell you how many buildings he’d jumped off in pursuit of ghosts – or even the fact that Phantom was a sinister specter, and ectoplasmic emanation, a putrid piece of protoplasm – he’d been carried by ghosts before, usually ones who were a lot more upfront about wanting to kill him.  

Actually, Jack didn’t know why he didn’t like it. He just didn’t.  

Maybe it was just how uncomfortable it was?  But Jack did way more uncomfortable things. Like interacting with his sister-in-law. Brr.  

Maybe it was the lurking feeling behind every interaction he ever had with Phantom that there was something he just wasn’t seeing, some hidden truth that would make everything about Phantom, every contradiction, every confusion, make sense.

Nah, that couldn’t be it.  Maddie would have figured it out by now.  That’s why they made such a great team.  He noticed the things she didn’t, and she noticed the things he didn’t.  

“You’re going the wrong way,” snapped Maddie.  

Just like that!

Wait.  That was a really bad thing.

“I’m not going the wrong way,” snapped Phantom.  “I’m avoiding Walker’s prison.  I don’t know how he didn’t catch you on your way out, but I’m not eager to be thrown in jail for a thousand years.”

“Ghosts have jail?” asked Jack surprised.  

“Depends where you are,” said Phantom.  “Walker isn’t really a sheriff, though.  There’s no government behind him and he just makes up rules randomly so he can lock up anybody he doesn’t like.”

“Like you,” observed Jack.  

“Why doesn’t it surprise me that you’re even wanted by whatever passes for the law here?”

“First, rude.  Secondly, there are realms in here that are just as organized and civilized as any country on Earth.  Just because you opened your portal into the equivalent of post-apocalyptic Detroit doesn’t mean it’s all like this.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” said Maddie.  

“I could arrange that, you know,” said Phantom, stilling.

Jack laughed nervously.  “Maybe another time?”  The ghost would do what it would do, but they didn’t need to encourage him to bring them even deeper into the Ghost Zone.  They were currently banking on Phantom’s obsession with heroics to get them home, but if they changed the equation…  Yeah, Jack didn’t want to deal with the consequences of that.  

Ghosts were like computers that ran only one program. One homicidal, destructive program.

It was like that thought experiment about an AI whose job was to maximize the number of paperclips.  It’d just keep on making more and more paperclips until nothing was left.  Which was why they had to be stopped.  

Easier said than done, as Jack and Maddie had learned.

“You don’t have to be so freaked out,” muttered Phantom. “It isn’t like I’m going to kidnap you or anything.”  He pretended to sigh.  

What was the point of that?  He had to know that Jack and Maddie wouldn’t fall for his tricks. Actually, come to think of it, he was miming breathing, too, and had been the whole time.  

Maybe that’s why Jack was so uncomfortable.  The constant undercurrent of deception.  

Hmmm… something to think on.  

“What’s that?” asked Maddie, pointing.  

“Uh,” said Phantom, who did a double take.  

Ooh, that wasn’t reassuring.  

.

Danny clenched his teeth, his parents’ reactions to him weren’t reassuring, and even less reassuring was the way Pariah’s Keep had moved from its usual creepy location and to this new creepy location. Not that there were any non-creepy locations in the Ghost Zone.  It was part of the place’s charm.  

No, really.  Some part of Danny craved the creepiness.  He was half-ghost, after all.  

(Even if his idea of creepiness was, according to his friends, sort of lame.)

But back to the main point.  The keep really, really shouldn’t be here.  And it was creeping him out.  

It should be okay to just… fly past it, though, right? Just being in its airspace in the past hadn’t done anything bad.  So, flying by with his parents in tow shouldn’t do anything either.  Right?

Danny put on more speed, just in case.  This coincided with a bunch of large ghost ravens (or were they crows?) dive bombing them and forcing him to land to defend himself and parents.  The only land around being the rim of the island that supported the keep.

He knew something like this would happen. Maybe not exactly this, but he just knew he’d be attacked and everything would devolve into nonsense, and—

Huh.  The birds weren’t attacking him, just his parents.  Oh, these were racist (mortalist?) birds.  Gross.  Trust Pariah Dark to have bigoted birds.  He called up a shield to protect his parents.  Whereupon they shot him in the back, shouting about how he betrayed them to the birds, because why not?  

Why was his life like this?

He pushed himself up off the ground.  Starbursts twinkled behind his eyes.  Neither his parents nor the crows were in sight.  The crows could have gone anywhere.  His parents on the other hand…

There was only one place they could have gone.  

Well.  At least none of the nonsentient traps would work on them, seeing as they were humans. What were the odds that they’d run into one of the sentient defenders?

Well… considering the ravens?

Yeah.  That’d be about one hundred percent.

.

“Maddie, I don’t know about this…” said Jack, examining the tall, vaulted ceiling.  

“We had to get away from Phantom.  This was the only way to go.”

“But he came here for a reason, Mads,” whispered Jack, tip-toing.

“Yeah, this is definitely a trap.  But what can we do?”

“Jack?  Maddie? This is not a place you want to wander around in! Oh, holy—” There was a loud thump.  

Maddie grabbed Jack’s hand and pulled him forward. “We have to get away from him.”

“Come on!  This is a floating island!  I’m your only way off!  Why are you like this?”

“He has a point,” said Jack.  

Maddie stopped.  “I guess he does.”

“This is literally the worst place you could have picked to run away!”  A sound like a very large door opening and closing reached their ears.  “This is Pariah Dark’s place!  Where did you even go?”

“Mads?”

“Yeah?”

“Who’s Pariah Dark?”

“I think that was the name of the ghost that sucked the town into the Ghost Zone a few months ago.”

“Please, guys!  I’m trying to help you here!  This place is ultra-dangerous!  You could accidentally – yikes! – wake up Pariah Dark.”  

“Maybe we should…”

“Yeah,” said Maddie, “maybe we should.”

“Phantom!” called Jack.  “Phantom!  We’re over—” The floor opened up underneath them and they fell into the dark.  

.

Maddie woke to a dark room, tied to a chair.  She noticed the faintly glowing ghost in front of her and jolted backwards.

The ghost wore a set of painted and engraved plate armor, a pair of lavender-white eyes glowing from behind the slats of its visor.  A knight, of sorts, Maddie supposed.  

“You…” droned the ghost in a painfully stereotypical ghostly moan.  “Enemies of the king… why have you come here?”

“Huh?”

That was Jack’s voice.  He was tied behind her, apparently.  

“We don’t have anything to say to you,” snapped Maddie.

“Uh,” said Jack.  Something twisted behind Maddie.  “Are you a friend of Phantom?”

“A friend?  A friend?”

“I’m going to take that as a no,” muttered Maddie.  

The door of the room flew off its hinges.  “Fright Knight!” shouted Phantom, pointing a glowing finger.  “Wait, you aren’t Fright Knight.  Who are you, and what do you want with my- With, uh, the Fenton ghost hunters?  Who I don’t know very well at all. Promise.”

“What,” said the ghost.  

“What,” said Maddie.  

“What,” said Jack.  

“Okay, forget everything I just said.”  He gestured at the ghost.  “Who are you?”

“My name is Paladin, my liege.”

“Okay, okay, cool, cool.  I- Wait, what?  What did you call me?”

“My liege?”

Phantom looked like he was having an existential crisis.  

“Maddie was right!” exclaimed Jack, who couldn’t see Phantom’s face.  “You did lead us into a trap!”

“What?  No?  I’ve never even met this guy before!  You are a guy, right?”

“Yes, my liege.”

“Right.  I’m going to put that on the backburner and freak out about it later.  How are you- Why are you—” Phantom shook his head.  “Why are you here in Pariah’s Keep?”

“It’s your keep.”

“Since when?”

“Say what now?” asked Jack and Maddie at once.  

“Look, this is news to me, too.  But, back to the question.  You.  The keep. Why?  I mean, you weren’t here before.”

“That is because Pariah sealed me, my liege.  When you defeated him, I was released and immediately swore fealty to the true king.  You.”

“I am so freaking out right now, but we’ll revisit that. Later.  Right now, I have to get these guys home.”

“But they have hostile intentions towards your person, my liege!”

“Everyone has hostile intentions towards me.  I’m honestly surprised you haven’t attacked me yet.”

“Ah.  My liege, perhaps you should seek the services of a priest, if all your experiences with new people are such.”

“Is that the medieval equivalent of a therapist?”

“I fear I do not know what that is.  Why do you ask?”

“Because the last time I talked to one of those, they purposefully picked at every one of my insecurities and then tried to murder my, uh.  Someone close to me.”

“An evil counselor, then,” said the knight, gravely.

“I want to agree with you, but somehow I feel like you’re talking about something completely different than the image in my head.”

“That may be true, my liege.  Doubtless, you are very wise.”

Maddie was… lost.  

Very lost.  

Even so, her prerogative was escaping.  She started twisting, trying to get to the knots around her wrists.  

“Did you, uh, pilot the castle out here?”

“Yes.  I sensed that mortal enemies of the king, that’s you—”

“I will debate that as soon as my brain stops screaming at me.”

“—had entered the Realm.”

“Right.  Yeah. Thank you.  But I can handle these guys.  And I need to get them home.  Please. I made a deal with them.”

“With these?”

“Hey!” said Jack, offended.  

“I mean, I use the term deal pretty loosely.”

“Hey!”

“But yes.  Please.  Just.  Dang.  How did you tie them up that quickly?”

“It’s a hobby.”

“Do you mind if I take the chairs?”

“They are your chairs, my liege.”

“I’m still not used to that.”

“Are you quite certain you want to take them?  And just… Let them loose?  The dungeon here is very functional.  We even have an oubliette.”

“Raincheck.  But thank you.  Really, I mean it.”  Phantom flew behind Maddie, and she protested as the chair she was in was yanked upward. “Uh… I might have gotten turned around a time or two, so if you could…”

“Of course!  The keep does seem to have sustained some damage, so we will have to take some detours.”

“Phantom!  Phantom! Put us down and untie us.”

“Nah, I think I like this better.  Your kids can untie you once I bring you back!”

“You’re going to drag us all the way through the Ghost Zone?”

“That’s the plan.”

.

The rest of the flight was surprisingly pleasant. No one attacked, and his parents were much easier to carry in the chairs.  Sure, they struggled, but the struggling was much more manageable than the wriggling from before.  

They were mad at him.  But they were always mad at him.  So.  

No loss, really.

With the utmost carefulness, Danny set them down in the middle of the lab, still tied up, and then began zapping then tossing their most troublesome inventions into the gaping maw of the portal while they screamed at him.  

Normally, he wouldn’t do this, especially after successfully rescuing his parents and hopefully raising their opinion of him, but some of those inventions were painful.  Like.  A lot painful.  And dangerous.  Also, he was doing his level best to avoid thinking about the whole ‘king’ thing.  

Which he couldn’t do forever.  

Especially since Jazz walked down the stairs, probably drawn by the screaming, to see Danny shoving half of the Ghost Catcher through the portal sans-strings.  

“Uh,” said Danny.  

“Get that ghost, Jazzy-pants!”

Danny vanished and fled upstairs.  

.

Jazz had seen many strange things in her life, but that scene was one of the weirder ones.  

It took some time to untie her parents, longer to extract herself from the ensuing rant and their attempt to salvage their equipment from Danny’s all-too-explicable rampage.  Honestly, she was surprised Danny hadn’t snapped earlier.  

She opened the door to his room.  It was empty.  She squinted. He was not just leaving her hanging like that, with no context to what happened other than their parents’ ranting.  She opened her door.  

Danny was lying on his side on the middle of her rag rug, hugging Bearbert Einstein.  

“A ghost told me I was king and that I needed a priest.”

Oh boy.  

[ptergwen]

Hi can u do where like arvin grandma takes him to church and he meets a ‘nice’ girl but really she’s kinda like him and he finds her smoking behind the church thanks

angel

w/c: 1.4k

warnings: swearing, smoking, and suggestive themes

a/n: alright i went overboard this is pretty long 😭 sooo enjoy

-

“grandma, do i really have to-“

“you’ll come say hi to her. she’s a real sweetheart, arvin,” emma pats her grandson’s hand, which she’s leading him by through their pew to yours. she’s been gushing about you all week.

your parents and her ran into each other while buying groceries, and they spoke for a bit. about upcoming town events, about the heat, about their families. you and arvin of course came up. judging by how lovely your parents are, emma had a feeling you’d be the same. that sparked her idea to introduce arvin to you.

she likes the thought of arvin hanging around a nice girl. she’d wanted the same for her own son, although it didn’t quite work out. it’s only a matter of time before she’s pimping lenora out to a pearly white smiling church boy.

“you say that about everyone, grandma,” arvin sighs, lighthearted but with a hint of annoyance. he’s not so sure he’s into nice girls. or, that nice girls would be into him. no offense to you because his grandma has been talking you up, and you do sound great, but maybe not for him.

emma puts on her best smile as the two of them approach you. “just say hi, won’t you? give her a chance.” “alright, if that’s what you want,” arvin mumbles back, running his now free hand through his hair. your mom gasps in pleasant surprise. “oh, emma. wonderful to see you again,” she greets, you and your dad standing up so she can get over.

the women hug while arvin stands there, disguising an eye roll for a look up at the ceiling. you squint at him and smirk to yourself. you’re intrigued.

your parents had mentioned something about you meeting a boy, your mom more enthusiastic than your dad. he wasn’t too on board with it. he’d said the “russell boy” had a reputation, said he was rowdy and whatnot. that was meant to scare you and your mother off. she dismissed it, and your interest was only piqued.

“yes, dear, so wonderful,” emma agrees, grinning at your dad over your mom’s shoulder. he takes a step towards her, making small talk. “how’s it going?” you watch arvin while the three of them catch up. he’s got his hands in his pockets and a clenched jaw. he doesn’t look particularly thrilled to be here. not at church or in your pew.

you snicker at him, and he snaps his head in your direction. the movement is sharp, yet somehow subtle. you’d been expecting the kid to bounce off the walls from how your dad described him. he actually seems pretty quiet. intimidating, yet quiet. it’s hot.

arvin catches a small smile from you. he nods in response, then shifts his attention back to his grandma when she nudges him.

“remember i was telling you about my grandson?” emma asks your parents, both of them affirming. she glances over at you. “this is arvin.” “hi, nice to meet you,” he drawls and extends a hand for your mom and dad to shake. your mom keeps it short and polite. your dad does it with a firm grip, one that arvin matches.

“strong boy,” he comments. “oh, you think so?” arvin jokes back. that earns a glare from your dad, who perceives it as him having an attitude. you take it upon yourself to say hi to arvin next. one, because you aren’t liking the tension. two, because you want to.

you step past your dad so you’re in front of arvin. “i’m y/n,” you say with another smile. “arvin. nice to meet you.” he sticks out his hand again, which you ignore, going straight for a hug. he’s not sure where that came from. either way, he hugs you back by your waist. you lean in to whisper in his ear.

“you wanna get out of here?” he’d fucking love to. he already promised lenora he wouldn’t sneak out of service again, though. “can’t. my sister’ll kill me for it,” arvin murmurs back, you pulling out of his arms. he finds himself disappointed by the absence of your body. your parents and emma are back in their own conversation, so you can speak freely.

“aw, cute. you’ve got a sister. you listen to her?” you’re teasing, a glint in your eyes. you don’t seem like the sweetheart his grandma made you out to be. arvin likes that. “she’s a...” he lets out a breath, trying to come up with a way to describe lenora’s love for church. “you know, this stuff’s important to her.”

“not you?” you wonder, clasping your hands behind your back. “nope. i reckon you’re the same,” arvin hums and scratches his gelled hair. “listen, how about i meet you out back later? nice girls go to church, don’t they?” he throws the last part in to flirt. you pick up on it, poking at his chest and lowering your voice. “who says i’m a nice girl?”

“come on, y/n/n. service is about to start,” your dad interrupts, taking you by your wrist before you can protest. “see you later,” you call to arvin. “yeah, see you.” he grins as him and emma walk back to their pew, where lenora is anxiously waiting for them. they’ll grill him about how he likes you later. right now is the lord’s time.

your words ring in arvin’s head the whole time the reverend drones on about whatever he does. so, you’re not a nice girl. he can’t wait to find out what that means.

when the service ends, lenora and emma line up to speak with the reverend and everyone else waiting. arvin sets off to find you. you’re the only two not still in there, so it shouldn’t be hard. he heads out the back door because he doesn’t want anyone, meaning your dad, to see him.

you’re leaned against the building with a cigarette between your fingers, puffing out a cloud of smoke just as arvin spots you. your lips turn up in a half smile when you take another drag off of it.

“there you are,” you speak, words muffled from the cigarette. you retrieve a box of matches from the waistband of your skirt and dangle it before him. “need a light?” you’d noticed a pack stuffed into his jeans earlier. he’s not so good at hiding them, if he was even trying to. you could teach him a thing or two about being more lowkey.

arvin pulls a cigarette from his pack and shoves it into his mouth. “didn’t take you to be a smoker,” he rasps as you strike the match up, bringing it to his cigarette. you then throw it on the ground and stomp it out with a knowing smile. “i told you, i’m not what you thought i was. whatever my mom told your grandma.”

“mm,” he confers, breathing in and taking the cigarette from his mouth to exhale. “heard you were a straight a’s student. you’re in lots of clubs and all that.” you scoff, bringing your own cigarette to your lips again, further blurring his good girl image of you. “when i cross out the d’s and lie, sure.” arvin chuckles at that and leans back against the stone wall.

“you’re not like your family one bit, huh?” he already knows you aren’t. “nope. i think they’re the reason i’m like this, anyway,” you admit, fingers innocently circling over his bicep. innocently. “i’m doing the whole rebel without a cause thing.” your hand squeezes at his arm, waving out your cigarette and dropping it in the grass.

“what about you? my dad said you’re a fighter.” arvin clears his throat and looks down at your feet. they’re moving, closer to him. “sometimes, for my sister. i was tellin’ you she’s different from the other kids. they pick on her.” that gives you a new sort of admiration for arvin. you thought he was cool, now you think he’s also kind. he thinks you’re... beyond words. in a good way.

“sounds like you’ve got a good heart to me.” you press your fingers into his skin, this time with a smile that’s sweet. he isn’t sure if he prefers this one or the one that has something sinister behind it. “well, thank you,” arvin drops his hand to your hip, adding on, “angel.” he’s well aware of what he’s doing by calling you that name. you click your tongue.

“angel? mhm, i’ll change your mind about that.”

[lilac-den]

Holy shit the dark au is dark. I'm both intrigued and scared.

What would be the reactions of our ROs if they somehow got a glimpse of their alternative timeline dark selves. Bonus points if they also see how their evil versions treat the MC in less than stellar ways.

Honestly, I imagine the D!AU vers are basically the ROs down the dark path - versions that they would have turned up as, if things had...continued in the past.

Zeus/Jupiter: "So my other half is a mere dog of the system?"

Zeus doesn't bat an eye at Jupiter, even when the latter proceeds to sneer with obvious disgust and scoffs scornfully. "Pathetic."

"And does it not own you?"

"The system," Jupiter hisses out, "was flawed and corrupted." Jupiter lifts their head loftily and says with clear conviction, "My word is law, in my world."

Something twitches in Zeus and they lift a finger up, pressing gently on their temple and attempting to settle the discomforting pain throbbing within. Jupiter, noticing this, flashes a fiendish, cruel grin.

"Oh?" Jupiter taunts, "Failing to recollect I see."

"What..." Their eyes spark, "What of it?"

Jupiter rolls their eyes, frowning, "Clearly, you, my own counterpart, are a failed specimen of our...caliber." Jupiter tuts mockingly and examines their surroundings. "Next you tell me that you treat [Name] like a human being."

The mention of MC brings forth something. One that eats away the pain and replaces it with an unfamiliar fury in Zeus. "What. Have. You. Done?"

"Hm?" Jupiter raises a brow before displaying a loathsome smirk. "You mean with my pet? They're resting well, collared in their cage." Their smirk morphs to a dangerous smile and their eyes shine with a sense of possessiveness. "They look so lovely when they're well-restrained."

What comes next is a collided strike between Zeus and Jupiter, signaling a battle no one seeks.

Hermes/Mercury: "What...happened to you?"

A cackling giggle leaves the maddening one, spreading out their arms and showcasing their lab coat. "The same thing with you!" Something deranged and gleeful escapes their voice, eyes wild and vibrantly unhinged, "One bad day, enough to leave us bonkers and mad! I'm embracing my nature." Mercury points their syringe towards Hermes, lips curling wider and higher, "Our nature."

A harsh expression shows upon Hermes's face; a furious knit of their brows, a displeased purse of their lips, and eyes glaring towards the insanity before them. Yet, they hold no words of denial. Instead, they look tense, "And...our hacker?"

Mercury's eyes lit up, like fire being stoked, and they laugh even more - happier and even less in control of their raging mind, "They're such a dear! So good, so great," a pleasant smile, one that chills Hermes's spine, presents itself onto their lips, "I made sure they don't...run away."

Hermes pales and the air crackles with energy that Mercury meets in kind.

Dionysus/Bacchus: Dionysus is, at first, wary of what to expect. Perhaps they're a turned mercenary or a murderer. Or perhaps a criminal beyond compare.

But no.

This is worse.

Bacchus stares blankly at Dionysus, soulless eyes with a vacant stare. Dionysus starts first.

"Do you know who I am?"

Bacchus blinks. Dionysus's brows furrow and they asks something else.

"Do you...know who you are?"

Bacchus's eyes drag down to the floor. Dionysus's heart trembled. Oh no...Dionysus makes a grab for Bacchus's shoulders.

"And what of our hacker?" Dionysus asks carefully, gently shaking Bacchus, "What of [Name]?"

A smile. Dionysus returns that smile with relief, amazed that, yet again, MC has as much importance to Bacchus as to Dionysus.

"Cold...Cold...and...soft."

Bacchus whispers this, dreamy and barely audible with eyes as glassy as a doll's. But Dionysus heard it all. And with the registration of what Bacchus means, a sense of dread and horrified disgust fills Dionysus in an instant.

This is worse.

A nightmare in the flesh.

Ares/Mars: "Who the fuck are you?"

Ares watches carefully, from the way Mars's eyes burn with hate to the scowl on their face.

"I'm you, dumbass." Ares comments back, "The one that took therapy, at least."

Mars sneered. "Therapy?" Mars spits with disgust and walks up to Ares, grabbing them by the collar. They growl, "Some pansy choice you picked."

"And what of you?" Ares glares and grabs Mars's wrist before tugging them off, "What did you do?"

"You mean what happened after?" Mars scoffs at this and gives a nonchalant wave of their hand. "Unlike you, sulking off somewhere, I actually had fun." They open up their arms wide, displaying their powered form and violent grandeur, "Killing that bitch was fun!"

Ares makes no comment to that - the past is over and done, and Mars is most likely looking to provoke. But a question nags in the back of their mind, enough to prompt them into asking.

"And what about the cadet?"

"Who? Ah." Mars flashes a sinister grin right then and pulls back one of the sleeves, revealing a scar that spells out MC's name. "I made sure they're well and branded with my writing."

Icy glares and hostile tension fill the room in no more than a second, both sides just tittering between 'civil' and an all-out battle.

???/D!???: [I actually have a tough time thinking how these two would interact - simply because they don't have too much differences and the ones they do have differences with are too spoilery to expose. ;; I'm sorry to all of you who want to read this section.]

[crusherthedoctor]

Can you list anything you unironically like in the games (and cartoons and comics) that you don't like?

I won't bother mentioning music, since that goes without saying and is to be expected for a Sonic game... unless you're Chronicles.

Sonic Adventure 2 (mixed gameplay-wise, annoying story-wise) - While I prefer Sonic's SA1 levels for a number of reasons, I still think his and Shadow's gameplay in SA2 is fun on its own merit. I also don't mind the treasure hunting gameplay returning or how big the levels are this time around, since Knuckles and Rouge are still fast and not '06 levels of slow. It's mainly the gimped radar that creates the unfortunate domino effect of making them a problem.

- Introduced Rouge, one of my favourite characters for how playful she is and how she's a lot more nuanced and intelligent than you'd expect.

- Some genuinely good scenes, like Eggman's trap on the A.R.K and Sonic escaping from the G.U.N. helicopter.

- Had some good ideas going for it, like the Pyramid Base and the Biolizard as a scientific monster instead of an ancient one.

- Despite my thoughts on the backstory itself (or rather, its execution), Shadow has enough depth and subtle qualities and occasional unintended hilarity to stand out from the typical dark rival characters you see in media.

- The Last Scene's music in particular is one of my favourite cutscene tracks in the series.

Sonic Heroes (mixed gameplay-wise, loathed story-wise) - The gameplay is fun when you're not being screwed over by repetitive combat, overly long levels and/or ice physics.

- Boasts some of the most consistently Genesis-worthy environments in the 3D games, up there with SA1's and Colours'.

- The in-game dialogue that isn't the same tutorial drivel repeated ad nauseam can be interesting, funny, etc.

- Reintroduced the Chaotix, which provided me with another character I quite like in the form of Vector.

- Bringing Metal Sonic back in full force and front and center in the plot after a long absence (not counting cameos and the like) is a perfectly fine idea. Just... not like this.

Sonic Battle (decent yet repetitive gameplay, mixed story-wise) - Emerl's arc is compelling, and it earns the emotional weight of having to put him down at the end.

- While some characters are iffy (read: Amy), other characters are extremely well-handled. Shadow is probably the prime example.

- Gamma's belly dance healing animation is fucking hilarious.

- When I was young, and the game was first announced, I was really excited about being able to play as Chaos. This proved to be my downfall when it turned out he was arguably one of the worst characters in the game due to being slower than me during the writing process, but I still recall that excitement fondly.

Shadow the Hedgehog (comedy classic) - The sheer amount of legendary stupidity this game has going for it makes it practically impossible to actually hate. It helps that it's not quite as white-knighted on the same level as '06... usually. You know you're in for a unique experience when you hear a gunshot every time you click something in the menu.

- By extension, Black Doom never gained an unironic fanbase like Mephiles/Scourge/Eggman Nega did, which means I'm a lot more willing to take Doom's dumbass brand of villainy in stride. He even has a unique design... a terrible one that rips off Wizeman granted, but alas, even that is a step-up from Fridge Shadow and Bumblebee Eggman.

- Despite being... well, Shadow the Hedgehog, some of the environments would fit right in with any other Sonic game, like with Circus Park, Lava Shelter, and Digital Circuit. Even the Black Comet levels look pretty cool.

- This game understands amnesia better than IDW does.

Sonic '06 (what do you think?) - The obvious one: Shadow's character was handled pretty well, even if it came at the cost of everyone else being a dummy and being forced to interact with Mephiles.

- Like SA2, there are some good moments, like the Last Story ending sequence with Sonic and Elise.

- In the greatest form of irony ever, I like Solaris as a concept and design(s), and its backstory has potential to serve as a parallel with Chaos without being a complete ripoff. Iblis sucks, Mephiles sucks, but I'm fine with Solaris.

- Introduced legendary characters like Sonic Man, Pele the Beloved Dog, Hatsun the Pigeon, and Pacha from The Emperor's New Groove.

The Rivals duology (apathetic outside of Nega-related grumbling) - There were some cool zone ideas in both games that were sadly let down by the restrictive and limiting gameplay. I particularly like Colosseum Highway for thus far being the only full-on Roman level in the series instead of merely having a couple minor hints of Roman, and Meteor Base for the unique scenario of the space station being built into an asteroid. These level concepts and others deserve a second chance IMO. (At least Frontier Canyon got a second chance in the form of Mirage Saloon, amirite?)

- Ifrit has a better design than Iblis. Not saying it's amazing, but the Firebird motif it has going on is a lot more interesting for a fire monster than the Not-Chaos schtick they had with Iblis.

Sonic and the Secret Rings (a very frustrating gaming experience) - Erazor Djinn, A.K.A. Qui-Gon Djinn, A.K.A. Dr. N. Djinn, A.K.A. I'll Take It On The Djinn, A.K.A. Not From The Hairs On My Djinny Djinn Djinn, is one of the best villains not associated with Eggman in the series. He's a Mephiles-type character done right, and there's actual weight and reason to his actions, however sinister or petty.

- I don't have strong opinions either way on Shahra as a character, but the Sonic/Shahra friendship is sweet and well-handled.

- The ending is one of Sonic's greatest moments. The sheer contrast between how ruthlessly he deals with Erazor and how comforting he is towards Shahra speaks volumes... Still gonna make fun of the mountain of handkerchiefs though. (Before anyone lectures me, I understand the significance of it and can even appreciate it from that angle... doesn't mean I'm not allowed to poke fun at it. :P)

- Another game with some redeeming environments. I love the aesthetic of Night Palace, and Sand Oasis looks gorgeous too.

Sonic Chronicles (my personal least favourite game in the series) - Uh...

- Um...

- Er...

- I like Shade's design?

Sonic Unleashed (overrated game and story IMO) - The obvious two: the opening sequence and the Egg Dragoon fight deserve all the praise they get.

- Seeing Eggmanland come to life was an impressive moment to be sure. While part of me does feel it didn't quite measure up to what I had in mind (ironically, the Interstellar Amusement Park ended up being closer to what I had in mind), it still looks badass and works well for what it is. I also don't mind the idea of it being a one-level gauntlet... key word being idea.

- Obviously, the game looks great. Not a fan of the real world focus (real world inspiration is fine, but copy-pasting the real world and shoving loops in it is just unimaginative), but it can't be denied that the environments look good.

- This game pulled off dialogue options a lot better than Chronicles did, since they didn't rely on making Sonic OoC.

Sonic and the Black Knight (just kind of boring all around) - Despite my gripes with the story (Merlina wasn't nearly as fleshed out as her unique anti-villain status deserved, which ends up severely undermining the ambition of the plot in more ways than one, and the other characters go from being useless yes men for King Arthur to being useless yes men for Sonic), I will admit it provides interesting insight into Sonic's character.

- Like '06 and Secret Rings, the ending is very nice... well, aside from Amy being an unreasonable bitch ala Sonic X at the very end.

Sonic the Hedgehog 4 (apathetic) - The admittedly few new concepts sprinkled within had promise. They may not have been as fleshed out as they could have been, but level concepts like Sylvania Castle and White Park, bosses like Egg Serpentleaf and the Egg Heart, and story beats like the Death Egg mk.II being powered by Little Planet, all could have been brilliant had they been better executed.

SatAM (apathetic outside of SatAM Robotnik-related grumbling) - I'm not a fan of the environments on the whole due to them looking too bland or samey, but there are some exceptions that look pleasant or interesting, like the Void.

Sonic Underground (apathetic) - The character designs make me feel better about myself.

- Does "large quantities of unintentional meme material" count as a positive?

Sonic X (mostly apathetic outside of Eggman's handling) - Helen was a better human character and audience surrogate in her one focus episode than Chris was throughout his entire runtime.

- Actually, most of the human characters not named Chris were legitimately likable. Including everyone in Chris' own family not named Chris. Hilarious.

- Despite arguably having the most Chris in it, I actually don't mind the first season that much, partly due to slight nostalgia from seeing it on TV when it was new, but mostly because Eggman actually acted like a villain for the most part, and certain other characters weren't quite as flanderized yet. It's season 2 and onwards where things started going off the rails IMO. (Incidentally, Helen's episode was part of season 1...)

The Boom franchise (apathetic) - Along with Chronicles, the games provide yet more proof that just because someone isn't SEGA/Sonic Team, that doesn't mean they're automatically more qualified to handle the series.

- The show had some good episodes here and there, and Tails' characterization was probably the most consistently on-point out of the cast.

- Despite not exactly being favourite portrayals for either character, even I'll admit that many of Knuckles and Eggman's lines in the show on their own were genuinely funny.

Archie Sonic (pre-reboot is mostly terrible, post-reboot is mostly... bland) - Whenever I doubt myself as a writer, I think back to Ken Penders, and suddenly I'm filled with a lot more confidence.

Sonic the Comic (apathetic) - Fleetway isn't a comic I tend to recall much of aside from how much of a loathesome cunt Sonic is, but IIRC, Robotnik's portrayal is pretty good. Different, but good.

IDW Sonic (stop pissing me off, comic) - Putting their handling aside (and being too obviously "inspired" by MGS in the latter's case), Tangle and Whisper are good characters IMO.

- Same goes for Starline, before he was killed off-screen and replaced with Toothpaste Snively.

- Execution aside (noticing a pattern?), the zombot virus was a fine concept on its own and an interesting new scheme for Eggman.

- I get to remind myself that I've never drawn scat edits and posted them publicly on Twitter.

[reluctant-mandalore]

Clarity (Din Djarin x gn!Reader)

Chapter One: The Herbalist

Living on a desert planet as a herbalist had its downsides, and it definitely was not the easiest life to live. It was the only one you had ever known though, and even if you had wished for a better one, you knew that it would never come.

 This all changes of course when a Mandalorian comes to your town looking for a quarry with a high price on their head. 

---

Warnings: slow burn, kidnapping/hostage, herbalist!reader, I’m not sure what to tag for this chap tbh. 

Word Count: 4829

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!Reader

a/n: This chapter gives a lot of background to the reader’s life on their home planet. You’re a herbalist, trying to survive on your desert like planet, when Din comes and pretty much kidnaps you though at this moment you don’t know why. Other than the introduction to reader’s background and life as a herbalist, there is no other descriptions of the reader themselves. The rest is up to you. This is mostly a set up chapter. Also, I tried to give Tarth an accent(?), but I’m not very good with writing things like that yet. :/

The days on your home planet were long and overbearing. Its sun had hung high and large within the vast sky. Allowing for its viscous rays to warm everything they had touched. Even during the night—when the sun had laid to rest and the stars had begun to peek awake—the blistering heat was still unfazed. Nothing could escape the sun’s wraith it seemed.

Not even you.

Walking through its vast dunes after your morning herb scavenging, had only made it apparent to you of how dry and practically lifeless the land had appeared. The sea of sand being one of the only things you could lay your sights on for many miles on end.

Oftentimes you felt as if you were traveling through a smoldering graveyard. This thought only being amplified when you had come across some bones peeking out from the loose grains below your feet. A find which had always made you shudder. You knew one day that could be you lying among the dunes—left only as a reminder of how deadly the desert could be.

This was why you had usually tried to leave in the early morning for your daily gathering. Today you had regrettable slept in though, and had ended up leaving later than usual. It had still been morning when you had left of course, but with how much you needed to gather, it had also meant that you were returning closer to the afternoon time. Now you were simply suffering the consequences of your morning self’s actions.

Rather than wallow in your own self-pity though, you had decided to focus on that task at hand. Besides—the image of the large gate belonging to your city was beginning to come closer and closer the more you had walked. So with this in mind—combined with your refusal to succumb to the cruelty of your homeworld and your own stupidity—you had pressed on.

Finally entering into the city walls had brought some much needed relief to your mind, and you had found your steps beginning to slow the further you went into its streets. While making your way to the market, you had shifted through the content of your basket. Soon finding yourself quite pleased with the plentiful of goods you had managed to find this morning. Hopefully, you would be able to get a good handful of credits from selling—especially with how busy the city seemed to be today.

Despite your home planet’s reputation, the town you resided in was small and quite overpopulated. People from all kinds of backgrounds—the good and the bad—seemed to find themselves attracted to your town regardless of its surroundings. This had made it so that the streets were nearly always lined and flooded with a sea of people wandering around. Thus making it great for selling anything and everything you could get your hands on.

Most of these folks were just visitors looking to refuel their ships, or buy any needed supplies they required. They were the pleasant ones usually. Leaving as quickly and quietly as they had arrived. Others though had of course come for some more unsavory and sinister reasons.

There was no lying about how dangerous a town like this one could be, especially when those with a tainted past had come looking for a hideaway. From simple smugglers to terrifying war criminals—all sort of vile folk had found themselves trying to turn your little town into their new sanctuary. It was these types of visitors who had made you happy to see the bounty hunters roaming about the streets.

The bounty hunters would usually appear out of the blue. Their arrival always quieter than anything you had ever seen. As they had found themselves searching for whichever criminal who had decided to hide out here within the city walls.

Many of your neighbours had seemed to take fright at the sight of a fierce bounty hunter lurking around the city, but you usually took joy at the prospect of them. The knowledge of—whether they meant to do it or not—them making your home just a little bit safer for the locals who dwelled here being usually a happy one for you personally.

Any improvement—no matter how small—was still improvement in your eyes and your town definitely needed that improvement.

While others had busied themselves with hunting down the scum of the Galaxy. Most of your own days had been spent in the market square at the center of town. There you would start off with selling any scrap metal or parts you had found in your morning gathering. Only then would you make your way to your usual table next to the local fruit and veggie stall. The owner of the stall—Tarth—would let you use one of his tables to set up whatever herbs or medicines you had managed to collect and produce.

Throughout the town, you were mostly known for selling herbs and medicine. You had picked up the practice from your late parents when young, and had continued it long after they had passed. All sorts of people would seek you out when a loved one was ill. As they had hoped you had something in your limited supply that could cure whichever sickness had overcome them.

Though at times it was hard, you did your best to help everyone you could. You knew how painful the death of someone you cared for could be. However, there were always those cases where you had nothing to give. Sometimes your supply was just too low, or the needed herb was just not in stock. That was just how life was you supposed—especially out here of all places.  

Medical herbs were hard to come by in the wasteland, as plant life was hard to find within its hills of rolling sand. They were there though, and you considered yourself quite the herb finding expert at this point. You had to be after all. Otherwise you probably wouldn’t have survived as long as you had.

Every morning—with the sun just barely rising over the horizon—you would leave the comfort of your home and search the desolate landscape. Trying to scourge up whatever little plant life you could. There were some days where you returned with nothing but sand filled shoes and empty pockets, while others contained plentiful finds.

Today of course had been one of the latter, which was most likely due to the blissful rain your area had experienced the few previous nights. So when approaching the market you couldn’t help but grin at the prospect of having a good day of sales. Though you had quickly found that smile dropping at the worried chatter which filled the streets around you.

Gossip and rumours were quite normal in a town such as yours. There always seemed to be something new going on with its wall. Although usually you had found yourself trying to ignore the chatter. As you most of the time you didn’t see the need to listen to such things. Today’s information had piqued your interest though, as the people around you had discussed the arrival of a stranger in your hometown.

This stranger being that of a Mandalorian.

According to them, he had been spotted lurking through the streets late last night. He was most likely looking for someone too. A bounty to be more specific. Something which hadn’t surprised you in the slightest with the reputation of the town, and with what little knowledge you had of the famed warriors.

When finally reaching the market, you had smiled at the sight of Tarth at his stall, and had given him a little wave when your eyes met his own. Tarth had been a business friend of your parents from when they were both alive and selling their own products. After their passing, him and his wife had taken to keeping an eye on you as best as they could, all while also having five children of their own to raise no less. They were kind to you, and though not able to exactly raise you themselves, they helped you as much as they were able.

So when you had wanted to start selling your own herbs and medicine—but couldn’t afford your own stall—Tarth had offered you to use one of the tables set up at his. You had accepted graciously and swore to pay him back one day. Although he had always insisted there was no need for such a thing. You’d pay him back anyway of course—it was the least you could do for everything he and his wife had done to help you after all.

After having walked around a bit—selling off what you could and buying some much needed supplies—you had made your way back to Tarth’s stand. When you had arrived, he smiled at you, and his eyes had crinkled at their corners with the wide stretch of his grin. His free hand soon had soon patted the empty table where you would set up products, before he had returned to talking with his current customer.

Shortly after you had set up for the rest of the day, the market had become overcrowded with people. You had very quickly found yourself selling just as you did any other day. Helping people with whatever you could offer them. Only letting out a small breath of relief when the rush had begun to die down a little. It would probably pick up soon, but you relaxed into the brief break you could take anyway.

“You were late, ya know?” Tarth’s sudden voice next to you had made you jump from surprise, though the chuckle you had heard from him had made you relax again.

“I know… I’m sorry Tarth.” You had replied to him with a shy smile. “I got a late start to the day, so my gathering was later than usual.”

“Figured as much.” He had let out a small grumble. His small frown not hiding the worry he felt from you as he spoke. “Next time come to our place, myself or one of the kids will go with ya, so yer not alone.”

“Oh no that’s not necessary.”

“Are ya kiddin’ me?” He had scuffed cutting you off with a shake of his head. His hands motioning to you in a dramatic manner as he continued. “Look at ya! It's like you crawled out of a sandpit.”

You had looked down at yourself then. True to his words you were quite a mess. Patches of sand and dirt had littered your clothes. It was a poor sight to be sure, but it was one you and the other folks had come far to used to.

“Tarth I’m fine! Nothing I’m not used to by now.”

He had let out a displeased hum at your words. His gaze shifting from yours to look out across the market square again, as a heavy sigh had left him. “I know but… Ah nevermind. There’s extra water and some food in my pack if ya need any. Alema made sure to pack some for ya.”

“Thanks Tarth.” You had said, as you had decided to take him up on his offer and had gone to drink some of the blissful liquid he had brought for you. “I appreciate it a lot.”

“Heh, don’t mention it kid.”

The afternoon had been busy, as the market square had become overcrowded with people again all too quickly. You weren’t complaining of course. The business and the large amount of visitors had only meant good sales for you after all. Other than your earlier morning mishap, the day had been going fine anyway. Though your good mood had dwindled far too fast for your liking at the appearance of a new guest within the market.

When helping a woman with her purchase of some medicine, the bright glinting of metal in the sunlight had caught your eye. The glimmer had caused for you to glance throughout the market square for its source, and by doing so you had found your gazed suddenly locked with that of a helmet’s vizor. The vizor of a Mandalorian to be more exact.

For a long moment you had stood there frozen in place. Your eyes had been effectively locked with his own steady gaze, and an unexpected shudder of fear had blossomed in your gut at the sight of him. The breath you had held in your throat had burned, as you had almost forgotten to breathe with how loud your heart thundered within its cavity. While before you had welcomed the idea of a Mandalorian into your town, actually setting your sights on him was another story all together. He was awe-striking, but at the same time, he was also terrifying.

So the rumors had turned out to be true. There was in fact a Mandalorian stalking through your little town, and he was staring right at you. Unrelentingly no less.

The two of you had stared at each other for what felt like an entirety—though really it was more likely just a few minutes—as neither of you gazes had faltered away. His own stare had been intense and almost deathly. There was no emotion to be felt from him. Although, that helmet he wore did a fine job at hiding any expression he could ever process anyway. As it had left him only as an emotionless slate to strike fear into all those who dared a peek. If anything, the helmet only added to his dangerous allure. The atmosphere surrounding him becoming more suffocating than that of the sun’s heat.

“Do you all just see him too?” One nearby merchant had said—a middle aged woman who you recognized as the one who you had sold some scrap metal too earlier—a look of fear and worry in her murky eyes.

“Yes! He must have a bounty on someone here.” Another had replied—the man from the jewelry stall—his mouth in a thin line as he looked from his purchased fruits to the man in armor across the square. “I feel bad for whoever that person is.”

The lady who had just bought some medicine from you had looked over in shock too at the sight of the bounty hunter. Her eyes instantly becoming wide, as she clutched her child closer into her chest. “Oh that’s terrifying! I wonder who he could be after?”

“I don’t know or care. I just want him and that bounty of his gone. His presence is scaring everyone and chasing away customers.” Tarth had finally chimed in, ending his words with a huff, as he was clearly annoyed with the whole ordeal. He was right of course. The new appearance of the Mandalorian was in fact causing the crowd to dwindle away quite steadily. “You’d think he’d hurry it up. Bet ya he’s sweating up a storm in all that armor.”

Tarth’s last comment had made you let out a small laugh, and you had finally broken the eye contact you had held with the bounty hunter in question. Though the new found freedom of that action didn’t stop you from keeping a watch of him through the corner of your eyes for the rest of the day.

Even by the end of the day, he had hardly moved from the spot where you had first laid your sights on him. Instead he had remained firmly in place. His back still against the wall he leaned on and his arms crossed over his chestplate, as his gaze had never shifted away from your direction. A small drop of worry had told that he was in fact staring at you in particular, but you had tried to reassure yourself that couldn’t be true. After all—why would a Mandalorian be interested in you? You were just a simple herbalist.

Regardless of who, he was definitely watching someone, and you had pitied whoever it may be.

Eventually, you did breathe a sigh of relief when you had finally seen him move from his spot. Your gaze following his form and refusing to leave it, as he made his way out of the market square. Most of the other people were beginning to leave now as well, and many other vendors were also starting to pack for the night.

The sun had begun to set over the horizon by this point after all. Its sinking rays casting an orange glow across the wide sky. The stars had even started to peek out from beneath their blanket of daylight. Gleaming brighter and stronger as the sky had darkened. Night was quickly approaching clearly. Which meant that it was time for you and the other people of your town to be on your way home.

The city wasn’t safe at night—it wasn’t even considered safe during the day—and no one wanted to be caught out during the late hours. Those times were when the more those vile of folk liked to come out and play. Then of course, when adding the new arrival of the Mandalorian on top of that, everyone just knew they didn’t want to be caught outdoors tonight.  

“Welp, it’s that time of the day dear. Time to start heading back. Ya don’t wanna be out past dark.” Tarth had said to you as he slid the doors to his cart shut. The old wooden doors rattling as the lock had clicked into place. “Lots of bad folks have been out and about lately.”

You had hummed in agreement, and soon you had stood to stretch out your back, as it had begun to feel sore from the position you had sat in all day. Only then did you begin to pack up your leftover supplies—smiling over at the food seller as you did. “As if that Mandalorian didn’t make that evident enough.”

“Ugh. Don’t get me started on that!” He had grumbled with another irritated huff. His arms crossing as he looked out across the market square. His gaze quickly landing on the spot where the said bounty hunter had spent most of the day. His face had held a scowl. The wrinkles along it deepening and the frown he wore growing the longer he stared at it. “He was there nearly all afternoon! Probably scared off at least half of the customers today.”

Another little hum of agreement had left you in reply, though you found yourself more focused on organizing your stuff in the basket rather than the man's anger. “Let’s hope he gets whoever he’s after soon then.”

“Yup, yup.” He had said while scratching at the fine grey hairs on his chin, seemingly to ponder in thought for a moment. “The faster it happens, the better.

After you finished gathering up your things—placing your unsold items into the handwoven basket—you had slung your satchel over your shoulder. Turning to look at Tarth once more, you had intended on saying farewell, but had instead paused in confusion at the expression he wore.

“What?”

“I was thinking I should walk you home.” He had said. “I’d want someone to do the same for one of my own kids. It’s dangerous after all. 'specially with that Mandalorian and his bounty running about.”

“Don’t worry about me Tarth.” A small smile had appeared on your lips, replacing your confused expression with one of fondness. “I’ll be fine on my own—always have and always well.”

His frown had only deepened at your reply. His eyes filled with undeniably concern, as he crossed his arms again while staring you down. Tarth really did treat you as his own child at times. “Now listen here-”

“-Tarth I’ll be fine! Don’t worry about me.”

“Alema and I will always worry about ya.” He had sighed, though he had smiled wryly at you as his gaze had softened. “We worry about you just as if you were our own kid.”

“I know and you know how much I’ve appreciated all these years where you’ve both watched out for me.” Saying this, fond memories had begun to flood your mind of the two. Though soon and almost proudly, you had grinned at him. “I’m an adult now though, so don’t worry about me too much. I can handle myself now!”

He had only sighed bitterly at knowing he wasn’t going to win this fight. “If ya say you’ll be fine... then I guess I’ll just have to accept that. You’re more stubborn than my wife at times, ya know?”

“No arguments there!” A giggle left you at his reply and you gave one more smile to your friend, “See you tomorrow Tarth!”

“Yeah, yeah. Just get home safely, ya hear?”

A nod and a wave was your final reply to the older man before you had turned to start heading in the direction of your home. Now finding yourself happy to finally get back to get some well deserved rest—especially after the day you had suffered through.

The walk home that evening had started the same way it always had—with you humming a sweet tune to yourself and saying good night in passing to those of which you had known. Though the more you had traveled, the more you had found yourself with a feeling of unease suddenly growing inside of your mind.

It almost felt as if you were being watched or even followed while on your way home. This new feeling of nervousness refusing to leave no matter how hard you had tried to convince yourself of it otherwise. Soon finding yourself becoming more frightened at the sight of the slowly emptying streets with each step you took.

This had been where you had begun to ponder your different options for the moment. Taking the main streets—though more safer generally—usually took longer to travel. By the time you would return home, it would have already become way past dark. On the other hand, you could take the back alleys. Which admittedly had seemed appealing to you at the moment. They were like a shortcut of sorts, and if you took them, you’d end up returning home before either of the moons had even a chance to rest themselves within the night sky. Though of course, there was always that risk factor with them, as you could never be too sure of who would be lurking within their walls.

Maybe you should have let Tarth take you home.

The feeling of being followed had made you want to return quicker in the end though. So you had found yourself leaning towards the alleyways rather than the main streets. You figured they would be your best bet. What was the worst that could happen anyway? You may not be the strongest person in the Galaxy, but you could handle yourself most of the time. Everything would be fine at the end of the day anyway.

That was what you had tried to tell yourself at least.

The alleys were dark and eerie, but had still felt oddly safe in a way. Even though with every corner the feeling that you were being followed had increased—you still felt fine and had even felt your mood pick up the closer you got to home. It wouldn’t be long now till you returned. Only one more abandoned street to travel along and you would be home. Nice and safe.  

Your fear had spiked again though at the glimpse of a large figure out of the corner of your eye. Dread had instantly consumed you at the sight of it, and you had felt your stomach become a flutter at the realization of it all being very real. Someone was in fact following you home. Who? You didn’t know— and honestly—you didn’t want to know.  

Thanks to your newfound fright, you had picked up your pace, now practically running as you went. The basket in yours had been pulled closer into your chest as you ran, and your breathing had increased dramatically with the panic you had felt. The end of the last alley was quickly approaching though—with every sinking step you took into the sand bringing you closer and closer to safety.

Home was only a few steps away, and a sigh of relief had left you at the sight of the light at the end of the alley. The main street was coming into view and you swore that you could even see your little house from here. Even the sound of what was left of the earlier crowd could still be heard as you approached. Their shadows passing by the entrance to the alleyway in which you had travelled. The sight of which making you feel so hopeful and reassured.

The safety of home was just within your grasp—so close and yet still so far—but you would be safe soon regardless of this fact.

Though unfortunately you would never reach your home.

Before you could even step out into the evening light—and just as your foot had made to exit into the main street—a hand had reached out from the darkness towards your form. It had grabbed you quickly. So fast in fact, that you hadn’t even realized what was happening until it was too late.

One arm had placed itself firmly around your midsection. While its twin had clamped over your mouth before a scream could even pass your lips. The basket of goods that were once held tightly in your hands had tumbled to the ground. Its contents spilling all over the sandy street below you and your attacker.

The person had instantly pulled you close into their hard chest. Their arms holding you tightly in their grasp like a cage that refused to budge. The grip around you had been unrelenting and overpowering. The strength behind it only making you panic more in your attempts to free yourself from them. Although such freedom would never come, as instead, you had only found yourself being dragged further into the alleyway.

They had captured you so easily, and it had honestly made you feel so unbelievably helpless.

It also didn’t seem to matter what you had tried to do to escape in the moment. The clawing at their arms had only made their unwanted embrace tighten around you, and digging your heels into the ground had been useless thanks to the loose sand beneath your feet. Then of course squirming around and kicking at the attackers own legs had done nothing but encourage the person to pull you into the darkened alley even quicker.

At one point you had even bit down into the hand over your mouth. The taste of leather and blaster residue flooding over your taste buds as you did. Though the only thing you had received in response to your retaliation was a grunt of disapproval. Their gloved fingers in return only digging more harshly into your skin, and refusing to allow you any more wiggle room in the slightest.

Whoever this was was much stronger than you could ever hope to be, and they clearly out skilled you in every aspect. It seemed like you weren’t going to be escaping from them so easily.  

The light at the end of the alleyway had dimmed with every step further into the darkness, and you had felt yourself cry at the sight of your safety fading away. The tears which had formed at the corner of your eyes rolling down them in thick trails. All while the fear and panic you had felt consumed you to your very core. Not even a scream could leave you thanks to the hand still clamped over your mouth. Its placement muffling any sound you had tried to make. No one had seemed to pick up on your predicament. Which meant no one would be coming to rescue you from this person taking you away.

When your attacker had felt like they had pulled you deep enough into the alley. Where the likelihood of anyone hearing or seeing you was at its smallest. They had shoved you roughly into the nearest wall. They had turned you to face them as they did. The sharp gesture making your back slam into the filthy stone behind you.

On instinct, your eyes had closed and your body had hunched into itself as if it was trying to protect you from any incoming blows. None had come though, and instead all you had felt was their body moving to pin you more firmly into place.

The wall had dug sharply into your back now, and you had winced as its sharp edges poked and pierced your delicate skin. A blaster had been roughly shoved into your chest by this point. The end pointed in the dead center of it and openly taunting you with taking your life. Allowing your eyes to finally open, you had felt your stomach drop at the sight of the now familiar visor staring deeply into your soul.

“I can bring you warm, or I can bring you in cold.”

[wisteria-blooms]

like father, like son (5/??)

>>CHAPTER MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @melanieacademy @@snapey SUMMARY: The summer before your last year at Hogwarts, you unveil a secret that inexplicably ties you to Lucius Malfoy. Coming face-to-face with each other in your adult life forces you to face old feelings that both you and Lucius are well aware of.

Can Lucius see past what your grandfather had done to claim the one thing he's sought after for ages? You.

WARNINGS

blood supremacy, wizarding politics, angst, eventual romance & smut

CHAPTER 5: MINSTER FOR MAGIC

Could the passing of the previous Minister for Magic indicate something more sinister?

If life was an ocean, then you’d long learned to sway with its unpredictable currents. You spent the next two years inside the white walls of St. Mungo’s Hospital, worlds away from the Auror Office at the Ministry. You were grateful to be able to keep in touch with old friends through letters and rambunctious dinner parties, evenings spent glasses of wine in and reminiscing about old times, and lose the less favourable acquaintances. You had sent Woodsworth your congratulations by owl a few days after it was announced he was to leave for training. Too early and you would’ve been over-compensating, and sending it too late would’ve given off the impression you were still bitter. You were always certain it’d be him. If he ran for the next Minister for Magic – bloody hell, you’d toss him your vote. Overall, detaching yourself from Ministry affairs proved itself a fortunate turn of events because through a façade of support, seeing Woodsworth’s inauguration would’ve been another shot to the heart.

Healing.

That’s what you needed and did daily. And your best effort you did give.

Flanked with highly-intelligent and kind healers, your backup plan began to precede your first. The charge healer of the fourth floor was Mr. Fawcett, a man of average height, a slightly rounder build, and a rosy face adorned with circular spectacles. He was as pleasant as a man who’d endured a strenuous career on the long-term ward could be. Today, with great urgency, he called the entire floor to the meeting room.

“The previous Minister for Magic has passed as of this morning,” he announced gravely when everyone had been seated. A wave of gasps chorused through the long room. While his failing health indicated there was little chance for recovery, no one dared utter about the possibility of death. It was unanimous that Nobby Leach’s tenure was a blessing to the hospital. His policies to increase funding and staffing led to a decrease in mortality as well as a reduction in employee burnout. His visits to the hospital were always welcome, with healers peeking from their units to applaud him and thank him personally.

The news of Mr. Leach’s admission to the fourth floor a year ago spread like wildfire over the wizarding world. Rumours flew about his health and if the decisions he’d made up until his sudden admission to St. Mungo’s were sound.  Shock was equally abundant and in the heat of it all, quick judgement was passed to Eugenia Jenkins, the interim Minister for Magic, and whether she could handle the office like Mr. Leach had. It was all incredibly misogynistic, you thought; if she were a man, there would be no doubt that she was capable.

“We’ve yet to determine a cause of death, but due to its unnatural course, we will give our full efforts in a joint investigation with the Ministry of Magic,” he said.

You were personally quite fond of Mr. Leach and his policies, warmly recalling his appearance at Hogwarts for your class graduation. He even congratulated you when you arrived to greet him at the entrance doors. But tarnishing that memory was Lucius’s sneer – silent but so loud – across the Great Hall when Headmaster Dippet proudly announced Mr. Leach’s appearance. Surely, Mr. Leach’s status as a muggle-born holding the highest position of power didn’t mesh well with his contrarian views. You eyed him as he cozied up to the Parkinson girl who stifled her laughter at a comment he whispered into her ear, his blue eyes twinkling in amusement. The fury you felt at his disrespect was only subdued by the Head Boy, as attentive as he was, joking how his father would hear about this. Still, watching his silent facial expressions and exaggerated mannerisms of Mr. Leach whenever Headmaster Dippet complimented his achievements was infuriating.

“Eugenia Jenkins will be officially inaugurated tomorrow,” Mr. Fawcett continued. “I will be meeting with her within the week to gauge her expectations of how St. Mungo’s will be run.”

The room nodded silently. Other matters were discussed but the passing of Mr. Leach weighed the room down, with hardly any hands raised in the air or any provision of insightful comments like most meetings had. After Mr. Fawcett’s dismissal, some healers stayed to embrace their coworkers who were still wiping away their tears at the news. You lingered as well for a few more moments to let the news sink in. The news of Mr. Leach’s passing and certain other events at the hospital left an uneasy feeling in your body, like it was a foreshadowing of worse to come. You took a sip of water and placed a hand to your warm face. You were probably just catastrophizing.

“Ready to go?” Abbott, a co-worker of yours, asked.

Ignoring the odd sensation, you nodded and followed her to oversee the new admissions.

The news of Nobby Leach’s passing rippled faster through the world than his admission had. The Daily Prophet toppled its own daily sales record in the first hour the newspaper was available the next morning. Many of its editors theorized preposterous ways that Mr. Leach could’ve passed, from being poisoned by the political opposition to being murdered in his own hospital unit, which St. Mungo’s heatedly refuted. An up-and-coming editor, Rita Skeeter, proposed the outrageous idea in her allotted column on the first page that Mr. Leach had staged his own death under duress to seek asylum in the muggle world. If one hadn’t known better, then Ms. Skeeter’s proposition could’ve been quite convincing.

The chatter of the day dwindled by nightfall when all talks about Nobby Leach had been tried and exhausted. The last embers of the candles flickering in the Malfoy Manor were the only source of light from what Lucius could see from his position by the fireplace. Normally, the house elf would keep them lit until all the Malfoys had retired to slumber, but his father had called on him for urgent business tonight. It would be past midnight when they returned, so let them burn, he’d ordered.

Lucius had spent most of his morning trying to gauge his father’s sentiments about Mr. Leach’s passing. He tactfully observed him at breakfast, but he did not appear overly jubilant as Lucius had predicted. Lucius himself did not support Mr. Leach’s policies and desired nothing more than a proper Minister – one that didn’t integrate muggles as much as Mr. Leach had. And besides, what did a muggle-born Minister for Magic know about his world? But his hatred seemed pathetically childish when compared to his father’s. So, it surprised him that Abraxas had only crumpled the newspaper as he stared out at the blooming rose garden, muttering something about a greater good under his breath. Shortly afterwards, he departed the manor to witness Eugenia Jenkins’ inauguration at the Ministry.

Lucius heard the distant thuds of his father’s cane down the dark hallway, indicating it was time to leave. The candles swayed as his father trotted down the length of the manor.

“Now, Lucius,” his father spoke, fastening the last buttons of his long topcoat. “You understand that this a dear old friend of mine? To whom I am greatly indebted?”

“Yes, father,” he responded, wondering if this was the friend responsible for his long stretches of absence from the manor.

“When there a comes a time I cannot fulfill my obligations to him,” Abraxas continued as a shadow from the window streaked his face, giving him a greater appearance of austerity. “Whether it be from age or death, I have promised you, Lucius, as my successor.”

The urgency and tone his father spoke in tonight greatly contrasted that of his casual announcement one morning that he’d retired as a Hogwarts Governor and named Lucius his immediate replacement on the board. That felt like a pleasant swim, but this was blind plunge into a cold lake.

“And what obligations,” he treaded cautiously, “am I to fulfill here, father?”

“Don’t question, Lucius,” Abraxas snapped, eyes narrowing quickly, “and especially, do not question tonight if you value your own life.”

“My apologies,” Lucius responded as the last candle fell to the darkness.

“Do as asked,” Abraxas warned. “Don’t besmirch the Malfoy name.”

Lucius nodded, the death of Nobby Leach being the furthest of his concerns now.

“Come along, now,” his father demanded, extending an arm towards him.

And with that, the handsome comforts of manor were replaced by the biting winds in a yard on the outskirts of Wiltshire.