#but if you have any alternative castings i would love to hear them!!!

[the-irrelevant-trumpeter]

mischief cast in the hatchetfield series (version 2)

hello. in january, i did a series of "mischief members cast in starkid shows" posts, which i did for most of their shows. i did a casting of hatchetfield during this series, but i only based the castings on the guy who didn't like musicals and black friday, as at this point in time, it had been a while since i had watched nightmare time season 1, i hadn't yet watched nightmare time season 2, and nerdy prudes must die hadn't come out yet. but now that i've watched everything, i figured i should update my casting. quite a few of these roles have been switched around from how i originally had them, because of how additional roles changed my perspective.

some notes that i made in the original series but will reiterate now, plus an extra one:

vocals did not play a part in the castings because i didn't want to limit myself and also because i can't tell what vocal types people are. so this is purely based on acting abilities.

i only used cast members from filmed shows because they're who i'm familiar with. so basically tgws and mmni cast members only. (there is a single exception to this).

now the extra note. i have cast all of them as if they're taking over a starkid members parts (aka someone will be playing all of jon matteson's parts, etc). however, if two different starkid people play a character during different shows (most notably the recasting of r*bert m*nion's roles in nmt2) i have changed it so that only one mischief actor plays that part. for which actor i gave these doubled up roles to, i gave priority to the stage shows over nightmare time. a good example of this is the lords in black - i have counted their actors as the person who played them in npmd, no matter who played them in nmt. the only character that this is a little complicated for is peter spankoffski, as he's been played by three different people, but i've put him as joey's character over r*bert's, as he has a more prominent role in npmd than in tgwdlm. hopefully that makes sense!

also you can see my original casting here. just so you can see what's changed. i would recommend reading this one first because the ones i kept the same are mostly just "see previous explanation".

casting under the readmore!

paul matthews / wiggly / gary goldstein / paul 23 / roman murray / boy jerry / daniel / richie lipshitz: jonathan sayer

this was hard because i moved my first choice for this role to a different character, but i think jono could do it! dennis has the awkward vibes paul does, and i feel like from what we see of him in mmni, jono is unhinged enough to play every other character /lh. my personal favourite character for jono to play is richie though.

emma perkins / donna daggit / linda monroe / madame iris / emdroid / mary / courtney / ruth fleming / blinky: nancy zamit

listen. nancy as linda monroe could fix me. okay. i just think she'd smash any and all of these characters.

bill woodward / frank pricely / solomon lauter / jason jepson / pokey: harry kershaw

this one is the same as my old casting, so i won't spend much explanation on it, but it's perfect, okay?

charlotte sweetly / nora / deb / colonel schaffer / sherman young / jane perkins / pamela foster / sheila young / marco: charlie russell

this is also the same as before, but the addition of sheila is the one that solidified this for me. we know she can play sexy villains. we've seen it in mmni. the prime minister in star paws, madame castaway in a dice with death (i know she isn't the villain in that one but she's got the same vibe). this also goes for jane. charlie russell playing villains for the win.

ted spankoffski / dan reynolds / wilbur cross / cineplex teen / malone / ezekiel / thrash / peter spankoffski: dave hearn

although he wasn't who i landed on previously, i had already strongly considered him for this role, and i eventually decided that he did fit this role better after all. i mean, we love villain dave in this house, so wilbur and ezekiel are covered. i also think he has the range to play pete as well, as we've seen him play those awkward kind of characters in mmni. i think he's definitely right for the part.

professor hidgens / ethan green / tony green: joshua elliott

same as previous casting and not much to add.

mr davidson / sam sweetly / general macnamara / barry swift / chumby the ape-man / papa sniggle / andy kilgore / gabe / skud: henry lewis

okay hear me out on this one. the initial reason i considered him for this role is because mcnamara's voice in tgwdlm reminded me of his chesney hawkes voice in light over the rocks. then i thought about it some more and i feel like he could really rock all of these roles? idk i just think he could do it.

alice woodward / greenpeace girl / melissa / zoey chambers / stephanie lauter / webby: rhyanna alexander-davis

same as previous. i think the added characters are really great for her as well. like rhyanna as steph??? come onnnn.

tom houston / gerald monroe / bob metzger: chris leask

okay listen. chris leask has that rugged dad kind of vibe that tom has. i said what i said. it works sooo well. you cannot tell me you don't see where i'm coming from on this one.

becky barnes / sylvia / jenny / miss holloway / girl jeri / karen chasity / miss mullberry / stacy / nibbly: lauren shearing

this was perfect casting the first time and i stand by that!!!

lex foster / lucy stockworth / snigglette / willabella muckwab / hailey / grace chasity: ellie morris

i also stand by this one! i feel like once again, she isn't the obvious choice for any of these, but i think she has a range that i want to see explored.

hannah foster / tim houston: susan harrison

idk how to explain it i just think it's a role i'd love to see her in.

howard goodman / jonathan brisby / duke keane / zach chambers / lumber-axe / eddie chiplucky / mark chasity / officer bailey / kyle clauger / tinky: greg tannahill

once again another example of perfect casting the first time. i am a genius /j. the most notable addition to me is duke, and i think he absolutely has the heart to play him.

xander lee / bob morris / watcher world barker / river monroe / noah / charles: niall ransome

it still fits. not much to add tbh.

rose / sophia / detective shapiro / brenda: bryony corrigan

okay, of all of these the only one i struggle to imagine her as is rose, but even then i don't think that's beyond her capabilities? like idk i just could really see her as shapiro tbh.

ziggs / kale: scott hunter

i did say there was a single exception to the "only tgws or mmni rule"! because ofc i have to cast non-binary icon scott hunter as non-binary icon jae hughes.

max jägerman: henry shields

this role was super hard to cast. partially because will branner hasn't played any other characters yet so i haven't seen his range, and also because will brings such a specific energy to this character that i think is hard to replicate? he's an excellent addition to starkid. anyway i thought shields was probably the best bet for casting this role, purely because max reminds me very slightly of kyle from primary cape crusader. there's just a specific vibe and shields was the only one i felt could fit that.

[oc-challenges]

WELCOME TO OC HALLOWEEN CHALLENGE 2O24!

SMILE because it's time for the annual oc halloween challenge! We will see the evil, hear the evil, and speak the evil with these spooky challenges brought to you by @aliverse, @astarionbae, @endless-oc-creations, and @come-along-pond!

If this is your first time, here's the lowdown; This is an event that takes place over the 31 days of October and presents oc creators with Halloween-themed challenges to encourage creativity, foster community, and have fun! Some of these have guidelines/suggestions, but this is very much a free-for-all so you can ignore them if they don't fit with your interpretations.

RULES

DO NOT copy others edits.

If you are doing crossovers, PLEASE make sure that the creator of the other oc is okay with crossovers.

If you want your post to be reblogged onto this blog, it must contain the hashtag ohc2024.

Feel free to ask questions, I promise I’m more treat than trick.

Everything is up to the creators interpretation, although I have tried to include some examples for help!

Have fun!

Day One: Godly Parent

Whether Greek, Roman, Norse, Egyptian, or any other; What "God" could have created your oc?

Day Two: Mystical Communication

There are tons of ways we think we can communicate with those beyond our realm such as Tarot Cards, Oujia Boards, Prayer, EMFs, or even through other people with otherworldly powers. Which method would your oc use? Or maybe they are the communication tool?

Day Three: Merch/Memorabilia

When we really love something, we want a piece of it with us. What merch would people buy of your ocs? Ex. Dolls (like funkos or Barbie crossovers), Clothes (like shirts or sweatshirts), Buttons/Patches, Dishware (like cups or plates), trading cards, posters, or even spin-off books of the show they star in.

Day Four: If They Were Canon AU

You could create an actor oc who plays your character or even make edits about how you think your ocs faceclaim would promote/interpret their character and get along with fellow cast members.

Day Five: Social Media AU

Within their canon, what would your ocs Instagram, Twitter, TikTok, Facebook, Tumblr, Snapchat, and/or YouTube look like?

Day Six: Role Swap AU

Give your oc a role in their story that is different than the one they already have. Whether this is making a hero a villain or vice versa, your victim a survivor or vice versa, or anything else you can think of.

Day Seven: Butterfly Effect

One choice could change the trajectory of our lives or any game we play. Show us the effects of your oc making the wrong choice when they originally made the right choice, befriending someone they originally hated, or even just missing their alarm.

Day Eight: Multiverse

Maybe you have multiple ocs with the same faceclaim, maybe you have a friend(s) who have ocs with the same faceclaim that you've wanted to do a crossover with, or maybe you want your oc to meet some of the actual characters their faceclaim has played. No matter what it is, it's time for your ocs to meet their multiverse counterparts!

Day Nine: Literature AU

Put your oc into an alternate universe based off a book you enjoy whether it be a classic or a newer one, no matter the genre.

Day Ten: Dungeons & Dragons AU

Have your ocs play DND, make an au based off a classic DND campaign, or just tell us the stats of your oc in DND terms.

Day Eleven: Ghost AU

Sometimes when we die, we don't leave. Tell us the unfinished business that keeps your ocs ghost on Earth, who your oc would haunt, how they would haunt, or anything else related to your oc being a ghost!

Day Twelve: Supernatural AU

Make your human oc a supernatural creature or your supernatural oc a different supernatural character.

Day Thirteen: Video Game AU

Show us some of what your story would look like as a video game or put your ocs into your favorite game.

Day Fourteen: Musical AU

The doctor said I couldn't talk, he didn't say I couldn't siiinnnggg! Put your oc into your favorite musical such as Hamilton or Mean Girls, or come up with some original lyrics to show what you think your story would look like if it were written as a musical.

Day Fifteen: Nostalgia

Take the books, shows, or movies you enjoyed as a child and put your oc into them! Or, show us what your oc enjoyed as a child.

Day Sixteen: Fairytale AU

One of the most classics of classics. Make your oc a character in your favorite fairytale, whether you prefer the Grimm or Disney version, or make up a fairytale about your oc!

Day Seventeen: Being is Believing

For day seventeen, think about superstitions, urban legends, or folklore and either make your oc a part of them, make your oc experience them, or tell us which ones your oc believes.

Day Eighteen: Beloved Pet or Object Turned Human

It's not unusual for someone to grow an emotional attatchment to an animal or an inanimate object. What would your ocs beloved pet or object say if they turned human and could speak your ocs langauge?

Day Nineteen: Genre Switch

Whatever the genre of your story is, swap it with another one. Maybe your romance story is now a horror story, your comedy is now a tragedy, or your historical realism story is now future sci-fi.

Day Twenty: Darkest After Dawn

Things can go so right for so long and then suddenly so wrong. Show us what happens when something rains on your ocs parade, when a perfect day turns into a horrible night, or a dream vacation turns into a nightmare trap.

Day Twenty-One: Apocalypse AU

Put your oc into an alternate universe that's been thrust into an apocalypse whether that be because of zombies, aliens, radiation, or the Earth trying to reclaim its land.

Day Twenty-Two: Time Problems

Let's play with time for this challenge. Picture your story as if it has always taken place in a different time, throw your oc into a time loop, or have them somehow travel through time.

Day Twenty-Three: Horrorify A Song

Take your favorite Halloween song and tell it's story, or even take a perfectly innocent song and give it a horrifying meaning! Both using your ocs, obviously.

Day Twenty-Four: What's Your Favorite Scary Movie?

It wouldn't be Halloween without some good scary movies. Put your ocs into one of your favorite scary movies!

Day Twenty-Five: Horror Location

This is an easier throwback to one of the week long challenges we've done for this event. Make something that tells a horror story of your oc at a certain location such as a Hospital/Asylum, Summer Camp, Place of Worship, Cemetery/Tomb, House/Apartment, Hotel/Cabin, or Farm/Ranch.

Day Twenty-Six: Horror Subgenres

Another throwback to a week long challenge we've done for this event. Make something that tells a horror story of your oc within a horror subgenre such as extraterrestrial, apocalypse, monster, time loop, isolation, time loop, cult, doppleganger, or anything else you can think of.

Day Twenty-Seven: Horror Archetypes

Which horror character tropes do your ocs embody? The Final Girl or The Killer? The Accomplice or The Harmless Antagonist? The Harbinger or The Nonbeliever? The Comedic Relief or The Hysteric Annoyance?

Day Twenty-Eight: Solo Costume

Show us what your oc would dress up as for Halloween! Would they dress sexy? Scary? Lazy? Practical?

Day Twenty-Nine: Couples Costume

Show us what matching costume your oc and their love interest would wear! Peanut Butter & Jelly? Morticia & Gomez? Bert & Ernie?

Day Thirty: Group Costume

Show us what costumes your oc and their friend group would coordinate. Are they the Scooby Gang? The Wiggles? Mario Party Characters?

Day Thirty-One: Here's A Treat!

The Halloween potluck isn't happening this year but we still want to encourage interaction and giving. So, choose someone to give a treat! This could be an ask, an edit, some writing, or even a playlist.

[soshadysoquiet]

TUA S4 alternative options for the Five *event*

Spoilers below, not meant to be taken seriously FYI

Now, I like my Five as AroAce as I am (extremely). But given that TV shows and society has this bullshit propaganda that 'romantic love simply Must occur for a complete being!!' Here's some alternatives that they could have gone for that might have been just as bad but I'd have hated less. (BTW no hate if you write romantic Five Fanfic, not for me but you do you, just wanted this one character to be safe from canon romance)

Bring The Handler back: That would be one fucked up relationship, don't get me wrong, but given they wrote a destined-to-be-fucked romance, have Five struggling to adapt and being coerced into a relationship by her and then realising it's shady and he DOESN'T need this sort of connection because his FAMILY is enough for him and have him kill her.

Make him and his colleague have a thing. True, potentially also problematic as mentally depending on your POV he's 60 or 13 or some mingle-mangled nightmare of the two. In the favour of this pairing I have only that I liked (was it Derek??'s) character design, they've clearly got some similar interests as they work together, they will have therefore spent some quality time together in a Safe space where they could have made a reasonable connection.

Dolores is real in this timeline, or Five somehow birthed her into being. (honestly I thought his colleague was going to turn out to be Dolores and of all the possibilities I would have accepted that the most) For this to work I think Dolores would have needed to be one of the 43 all along and maybe someone who can transplant their consciousness who did similar to Five and got stuck like that, went comatose and mad with it (therefore staying around 13) until Five found her. There, with that, you can fudge around the problematic age thing, they grew up side by side. Thus she and Five really did have a connection, really could talk, and now he gets to live into his old age with someone both mentally and physically the same age as him.

Give him a therapy dog in Pennycrumb that's better than a romance surely who doesn't love a pet?

Kenny's Mom. Idk it would have been whacked AF but I would have laughed my head off and know Five had just lost the plot completely.

He falls in love with another version of himself he meets on the subway. Hell, why not make this a Five that changed gender in the apocalypse and met a mannequin named Donnie, that way we also get more queer representation. Yes, this would also, in fact, be weird AF. But legit hilarious and someone who can match his experience and intelligence. And age.

Let him just have one night stands, that's midway happy right for TV? Just don't make me watch any intimate scenes. You have a Whole other cast, use them. Hell, be brave, do a Klaus / Dave Ghost sexscapade instead.

He has re-found mannequin Dolores. Man has never dealt with his issues that we know of - the show never tells us he does. I thought when they first turned up in the apocalypse from the trains and the sunlight was shining on Dolores that Five was going to steal her. But he could also have just found her again because he couldn't cope.

I think that's exhausted all my awful joke options (though honestly the Dolores two aren't even that bad) would love to hear which your favourite out of these awful options is.

Please reblog for votes, I'm having way too much fun here.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Silver Lining 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, speech impediment, bullying and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: silverfox!Bucky Barnes

Summary: You have an unpleasant encounter with an older man.

Part of the Silverfox AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The library casts a wave of deja vu over you. The smell, the shelves, the soft rustle of patrons trying not to make a noise in the deathly din. You feel like the lost college student, once more trapped in the stacks, trying to eke out a final draft.

Since the calamitous destruction of your laptop, you’d been paralysed to do anything more than sulk. It took a few days to get the energy up to make a choice; buy a new one or find an alternative. The former option isn’t affordable but once you get this script down, you could splurge for at least a chromebook.

Negotiations with your sister were less than successful. She claimed the innocence of children as her shield. She couldn’t control their curiosity. It’s unfortunate that it happened but she’s a mother of two and can’t afford to pay for your expensive toys… Right, but she has a macbook in her luggage.

To no one’s surprise, and to your sister’s expectation, your parents agreed. It’s hard to pay for two kids in this world, your laptop isn’t a necessity. You can dig out the old Windows XP tower from the basement…

It’s futile. You love your family but they leave you feeling that the sentiment isn’t mutual. You can’t blame them. You're thirty, you’re living at home, and you have a job that isn’t really a job.

You settle in at a computer, your newly registered library card in hand. You paid the two dollars for an hour. You hope it’s enough to retrieve your work from the cloud and finish up the last edits. It’s only an hour per hour for additional time.

After getting used to the clacking keyboard and the worn ball of the old mouse, you start to whittle away. You’re immensely thankful for the omnipotent powers of OneDrive. Everything is still there.

You check the time. Ten minutes left. You’ll have to go top up, at least for another hour. You sit back and grab your phone from beside the mousepad. You had it face down on silent so you could focus. It’s only then you see the slew of notifications.

Your mother wants you to grab coffee cream on your way home and your next payment on your still standing student loan is coming due. Under all that, there’s a message from Bucky. You figured he’d be checking in. You are cutting it close to his deadline.

‘How’s it going? Was hoping to have the final draft today.’

Your stomach boils. You can get it done and he’s being less than pushy. Not demanding by any means but you’re taken back to your last job. To the constant pressure of expectation and the oppressive workload that never slowed down. All that and the closed door dealings that left you sleepless and quaky after midnight.

‘Will send over soon.’

The response should be good enough. A promise you can keep. You place the phone down and lean forward, cradling your head as you tell the memories to leave you alone. This is different. This isn’t that office, this is something you can walk away from at any time.

You close your eyes as the world narrows between your ringing ears. The silence of the library is replaced with the muffled ringing of office phones and the smothered voices of employees conferring between cubicles. You see the door, closed again, you feel the edge of the desk digging into your stomach, you hear his raspy words, your insides splinter.

Your eyes snap open as you sit up. No, you’re not going back there again. The computer’s lock screen shines blue at you. Time’s up. You dig around in your purse as you stand. It’s over so let it go.

As you stand at the counter, waiting for the librarian, your phone lights up. You tap your card on the desk before stepping away. You should answer it.

You quickly march across the lobby and into the vestibule between the inner and outer doors. You shouldn’t disturb anyone here. You check the ID again, it’s him.

“Hi,” you answer.

“Hey, I hope I’m not interrupting. I’m just a bit restless since I got back in town,” Bucky plunges right in without small talk.

“N-no, j-just wrapping up.”

“Great. Did you want to meet up tonight? I am working on the recording space and I thought you might like to check it out?”

“Ch-check it o-out?” You wonder. You imagined yourself just handing off the script and bouncing. Get paid and go home.

“Uh, yeah,” you hear him fumbling on the other end, “I was thinking… well, maybe it’s better if I talk to you in person–”

His voice is completely drowned out at the outer doors open and a group of rowdy students enter, completely ignorant to the atmosphere. You expect they’ll get a warranted shush from the staff so you don’t bother. You just turn your back to them and plug your ear.

“A lot going on?” Bucky asks.

“N-no, just… library’s b-busier than I th-thought.”

“Library? Oh, you doing more research?” He wonders. You hesitate again. You’re used to his bluntness. To him not caring about anything but what he wants. That’s an easier dynamic then all these questions.

“L-long st-ory,” your words creak out.

“I’ll come meet you,” he offers, “I got a few books to bring back. Which location are you at?”

Again, you're reluctant. His eagerness surprises you but you assume it’s more impatience. It'll be good to just get this over with.

“O-Oxblood,” you answer.

“Hm, never been to that one,” he comments, “when's good? Like an hour or something?”

“S-sure,” you shrug.

You give up. People don't really ask when they ask. They tell. Your mother, your sister, him.

“Sounds like a plan. I'll just finish up what I'm doing and head over,” he voice catches at the end, “shit, got another call. Talk later.”

Before you can respond the line is dead. You're almost grateful for the abrupt end. You're expecting this writing gig might just be a one-off situation.

[aihoshiino]

I just want to start by saying I really love your analysis of Ai’s character! It’s nice to know that Ai still has some dedicated fans, even after she died in the story. Ai was fascinating to me throughout the time we got to know her. So it makes me happy that people still talk about her quite often.

I'll get straight to the point now. Lately, I've been unsatisfied with the writing of Oshi no Ko. I'm not a fan of how they've handled Ruby, the revenge plot, and Kana's concert. So, I decided to create my own alternate universe (AU) story featuring two of my favorite characters from the manga, Ai and Kana. The setting in the AU is somewhere around the time after Ai got scouted. The only change I've made to Kana is that she is the same age as Ai in this timeline. I'm not exactly sure how I want to develop their friendship or how they would meet, but I'd love to hear your honest thoughts. How do you think a friendship between Ai and Kana would unfold? I would like to say it wouldn't be an entire copy of RubyKana's dynamic, but I'm not entirely sure 😭. My goal is to portray Ai's feelings and the increasing pressure she faces, as well as Kana's struggles to find work and her gradual realization of her mother's exploitation. I also want to show how they balance their friendship despite being in different fields and supporting each other.

Thanks so much, anon! 💜 THIS IS SUCH A CUTE IDEA… Usually when I see fics of Ai and Kana interacting, it's with their canon age gap but the idea of them being peers is super interesting… please do drop it into my inbox if/when you write it!

The idea I had immediately was like - since we're already messing around with the timeline by making Kana and Ai peers, you could push up the live-action adaptation of Sweet Today and have them cross paths that way. Ai mentions in the Da Vinci Q&A that she would've loved to play the lead character if it was ever adapted - which as we all know is the role Kana plays in the story proper. There's already a surprising amount of parallels set up between Ai and Kana in the main story, but that one in particular really made me go ! so I think you could mine some interesting thematic stuff out of it.

That would also probably be a good way to put them in each others' proximity as well, I think! Like idk, maybe Kana was supposed to get the lead role but got bumped down to a supporting cast member when the production committee decided they wanted Ai's name recognition instead and now Kana has to balance being professional with seething over losing this role she really wanted to a girl who's not even an actress but also wanting to help her give a good performance j-just to make sure the show is good! Not for any other reason! … That kind of thing.

I definitely think they'd have an uphill struggle… they're both dishonest in ways that really clash, huh. I can really easily see the way Kana defaults to externalizing her vulnerability as snark and aggression accidentally setting off Ai's tendency to go belly up fawning mode, which in turn rubs on all Kana's insecurities and her feelings of not being good enough, which causes her to be even more reactive… I think they'd definitely end up having a big blow-up a la Nino and Ai before they could start properly communicating.

Once they're on the same page, though, I think they'd be really good friends! Ai is an incredibly affectionate and supportive presence for the people she loves and Kana is extremely proactively protective of the people she allows into her heart. I think they could really hype each other up and support each other in some really good ways.

Basically what I'm saying is;

[kana voice] HEY!!! SHE ASKED FOR NO PICKLES!!!!! [said while trying to restrain Ai from forcefeeding herself a burger she does not want in order to not mildly inconvenience another human being]

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 17!!!

Okay, it's been a bit so quick recap: We just spent the evening at a dive bar singing karaoke and learning that 1) Jesus is a 13-year-old rich white kid with rich parents living in L.A. and 2) Muriel is missing. The Angel of Sardis gave us a lovely fishbowl (alcoholic drink since no one in this world has bothered to ask Reader's age because I have more room to play that way) as a reward for singing Taylor Swift (Shake it Off). We pick up our story The Morning After.

Also, since the poll about Sardis tied, I'm taking it to mean that everyone needs/wants more time with him to figure him out. Fortunately people also voted to bring him along, so we get to have LOTS OF THAT!! :D

Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 in G Major for anyone who's curious.

What music do you think Anathema likes??

Let's do this!!

Beginning || Previous || Next

**********************************

The next morning you sit at the table in the dining room of the massive Ritz hotel suite, staring into your coffee. You have a headache, and no one else seems to be faring too much better. If only it was just a hangover. A miracle from either Aziraphale or Crowley could fix a hangover, but there was no way that a miracle of any size could make your situation any less bleak.

Aziraphale, angel that he literally is, had thought to order in breakfast from the kitchens. You look from your coffee to the waiting plate of pancakes, eggs, and bacon, heaving a sigh. Jesus, if and when you find him, is an entitled teen. Muriel, friend and precious, is missing. Things are...well, it’s hard to feel happy or optimistic right now. Your companions aren’t faring much better as far as you can tell. Crowley is staring at his phone with a frown, the sound effects of Candy Crush drifting across the otherwise silent table. He’s playing at non-chalance, but you know Distraction As A Coping Mechanism when you see it. Aziraphale has barely touched his food, focusing more on alternating between stirring his tea, and sipping it only to add more sugar. The drink must be nearly syrup by now. Anathema keeps dangling her pendulum, pausing, then setting it down to re-cast her rune stones. You’ve noticed that they keep landing up the same way. Well, you need fuel in your system if you’re going to deal with all of this, so you reluctantly cut a slice of pancake with your fork and bring it to your mouth.

The silence stretches. Well, except for the ambiance; Candy Crush, spoon stir, runes cast, pancake slice. Candy Crush, spoon stir, runes cast, pancake slice. Candy Crush, spoon stir, runes cast, bacon – mixing it up a little. Candy Crush, spoon stir, runes cast

BAM!!!!

The door of the suite slams open, and there stands Sardis with his foot in the air.

He kicked the door down. What...on….earth…

“I FOUND HIM!” Sardis stomps into the suite toward the table, waving his phone in the air, “I FOUND HIM! I knew I’d seen his face somewhere, and I found him!!”

Crowley sits up straight for once in his life. “Who THE FUCK gave him a key?!”

You avert your gaze. The fishbowl was delicious, and he patted your head afterward and told you everything would be okay! Not your fault….entirely.

There isn’t much time for you to contemplate your guilt because Sardis has turned up the volume on his phone, and pressed play on a Tik Tok video. He turns his phone so that you all can see the screen. A boy with dirty-blonde hair is smiling out of it. His hair is longer in the middle and pouffed up with what is probably a standard-teenager’s worth of hair gel, and the sides are very short with...dollar signs shaved into them. It’s just a Tik Tok video, but you can smell the Axe body spray from here.

“Hey guys!” The smiling teen calls, waving at the camera. “It’s me, ya boy Jeremy. I’m bringing back my most popular series. That’s right! You asked, and I’m answering your prayers! Time to bring back Let’s See What I Can Get Away With Because I’m RICH.”

Your face twists in disgust, and you hear Anathema groan.

“I think we’ve seen quite enough,” Aziraphale says, speaking for you all.

“Are...are you sure that’s Jesus?” You ask. Honestly you’re hoping it’s a joke. You’re hoping beyond hope that this...this...caricature of a person is not the same person who you need to convince to help you save the world.

“Oh yeah,” Sardis replies, “That’s him. Right name and everything.”

“Wot? Jeremy?” asks Crowley with an edge of salty sarcasm.

“No,” Sardis says, “His true name. I know everyone’s, remember? It’s the right kid, you have my word on that.”

Truth be told, you’re still not exactly sure what his word is worth, but for now it’s a lead. You glance at Anathema, who shrugs.

“Fits the bill,” she admits, “All my readings have been...unsettlingly clear about the kind of kid we’re looking for, and I mean...” She gestures helplessly at the phone and the video that Sardis has, thankfully, paused. You blink, dumbstruck. Aziraphale said something last night about Heaven cutting corners. Apparently they had cut the corners so thoroughly they’d made a circle.

Great.

******************

Breakfast suddenly became easier after that. Maybe it was because Sardis was the only one who wasn’t completely despairing over everything, and maybe it was because he was suddenly helping himself to the plates of excess pancakes, bacon, and eggs. Suddenly, you noticed Aziraphale wave a finger and the food was hot again – trying to impress company, or be a good host, or both no doubt. You found that your appetite had suddenly returned, along with your need for caffeine. Even Crowley had grabbed some bacon now that, perhaps, there seemed a less likely chance of him having the choice if he waited any longer. Sardis did most of the talking, explaining that the shortest driving route would take 28 hours. Best to get started asap then.

“I am not listening to anymore of your….Us songs!” Crowley growls at you as soon as you get in the car.

“Not all of them are love songs!” You protest.

“No! No breakup songs either!”

“Fine, fair, but what about -”

“And especially no End-of-the-World songs!” He snarls. You’re pretty sure he’s halfway to hissing at you now. “We have enough of that to deal with assss is!” Ah, there it is.

Ever-so-gently, Aziraphale takes the phone out of your hand.

“Perhaps it’s about time someone else had a turn,” he says. Ah, so he’s finally gotten tired of humouring you and your taste in music. Well, it had to happen eventually.

Unfortunately, this means that you all end up listening to Brandenburg Concerto No 3 in G Major. Well, it could be worse, you figure. At least this song has movement to it, even if it does feel endless based on your musical standards. Crowley is driving and silent, Aziraphale is waving your phone around in the passenger’s seat like a conductor’s baton. The backseat is as follows – You, Sardis, and Anathema.

Yes, Sardis is there. Considering the way he found Jesus – or, Jeremy – so quickly, and the way he seems to be single-handedly keeping everyone’s morale afloat, it seemed a waste to leave him behind. Besides, both Crowley and Aziraphale had tried to make him leave, but he just….stayed. In the end, you pouted, they gave up, and now he’s sitting in the middle of the backseat, because you and Anathema have seniority.

Speaking of Anathema, you notice her very pointedly staring out the window. She looks...stiff. Maybe classical music isn’t her thing? Your suspicions are confirmed approximately nine minutes later when she practically jumps up from her seat and grabs the phone out of Aziraphale’s hand and presses stop. The music comes to a halt and silence fills the SUV. Aziraphale looks shocked and appalled.

“Anathema!” The angel exclaims after a moment. You can practically hear him clutching at his non-existent pearls. You can see him resisting the urge to clutch at his bowtie. “We weren’t even finished the Allegro!”

Anathema takes a deep breath. You’re able to count out a solid beat of ten before she speaks.

“I...am not...listening to classical concertos for 28 hours. I don’t care what key it’s in or how many allegros it’s got!”

Crowley snickers and snorts. “Concertos don’t work like that.” He says. You see Aziraphale gently pat the demon’s knee as if to say ‘that’s my man.’

“Well what would you rather?” Is what Aziraphale actually says, “More bebop?”

“Try me, and I’ll play death metal, I swear I will.”

“Um,” Sardis ventures cautiously, “Can I see that for a minute-- thank you.” He plucks the phone out of Anathema’s hand. After a minute or two of swiping, he taps the screen, and the car fills with songs from well-known musicals. Now, although this isn’t exactly to everyone’s taste, no one can find a good reason to outright hate it. No one can manage to find a good reason not to put up with it, and so by the time Music of the Night has melted into Seasons of Love, everyone has settled down and accepted that things aren’t actually all that bad.

“Impressive,” You mutter, basking in the semi-content vibe. Everyone is still a little on edge, but it feels less intense now.

Sardis smirks. “Six siblings,” he says to you with a small nudge.

“What happened to the others?” Anathema asks, tuning in to the conversation.

“Well,” Sardis sighs, “Of the seven of us - myself, Smyrna, Pergamum, Ephesus, Philadelphia, Thyatira, and Laodicea - Smyrna and Philly were the only ones who didn’t get hate mail. Smyrna was always super into the doctrine. She drank the kool-aid, as the humans here would say, and felt it her calling to ‘return home,’ as she put it. Bullshit, honestly. We weren’t born angels, we were made alongside the churches of Christ. ‘S one of the reasons why they don’t actually give a shit about us.”

“And why you worried that your miracles might get taken away,” You add, putting some of the pieces together. Sardis nods. “Wait, a minute,” You say, “You were made??”

Sardis laughs. “Alright Little Moth, you need to pick a lane here. Do you want to hear about my siblings or how I was born human?”

“You were BORN HUMAN?!” You are practically bouncing right now. What...how… “But you said that you can’t change your species!”

“I said your Miracle Enabler can’t change your species,” He replies with a twinkle in his eyes, “Not that it can’t be done. The seven of us were all born human. We made the first seven churches, so we were made guardians, lower angels. Like...lower than whatever the lowest type of angel you know of is. But we weren’t created as angels like your friends in the front seat.” Movement catches your peripheral vision, and you notice Crowley shifting a little in his seat. No doubt that’s a touchy subject that only Aziraphale is allowed to go anywhere near, but he says nothing. “So they all pretend we don’t exist, and look down on us whenever they need to deal with us. Sort of like we’re --”

“Oh, don’t worry,” You interject, “I read enough fantasy to understand the way magical societies view human-born magic users.” You can imagine that being An Angel of God would probably get old real fast if everyone who was supposed to welcome you actually hated you and made sure you knew it. Goodness knows it got to Aziraphale eventually, makes sense that a human-born angel (a huboan? You’ll work on it) would get sick of it a lot sooner.

“And that’s why I like you Little Moth,” Sardis says with a chuckle and a wink. “Anyway, so I know Smyrna went to Heaven. Philly stayed here. The two of us have always been really close, she stuck with me and we messaged and called and visited all the time until recently. I got some messages from her when the world went nuts during the first apocalypse, but I haven’t heard from her since. She stopped replying to my messages.”

Now it’s your turn to shift uncomfortably in your seat. Your eyes drop to your feet and start to fill with tears, so you change your view to the one outside your window.

“I can relate,” You say after a moment, holding back a sniffle and a sob. Deep breath. “Well, I’m glad you’re sticking with us.” You plaster a smile on your face and turn back to him. “Maybe we can find her.”

He smiles. “That’s what I’m hoping.” For a while, everyone is silent. After a few minutes, Anathema offers to put together a playlist with everyone’s favourite songs. The mood shifts considerably as the five of you spend the next few hours excitedly making musical suggestions.

It’s the best collection of music you’ve ever heard.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

Beginning || Previous || Next

[inamindfarfaraway]

Stumbled across your post on Carmilla and Cain from one of my favorite artist and just wanted to say that I loved that post incredibly!!

I loved the way you articulated the ability for free will to shatter heavens expectations! It had me thinking about free will in general so thank you for sharing that goodness!

Thank you! This analysis just came to me as a fun little observation, I wasn’t expecting it to gain so much traction. Free will is very thematically important to Hazbin Hotel, isn’t it? Lucifer believed in the good it could do, but accidentally created evil by giving it to humanity and fell for it. Since then he’s seen all the pain free will can cause and become embittered. Charlie, however, believes like he used to and fought for human souls passionately and selflessly enough to bring him back around. The Elder Angels who ordered the Exterminations and the Exorcists who carry them out seem to alternately hate and fear free will’s power, and by their indiscriminate condemnation of sinners as inherently irredeemable, not want to acknowledge it at all.

If the theory that Adam could live on as a sinner in Hell turns out to be true, I’d love to see his character and thoughts on his mortal family and free will explored, because he must have SO much baggage, which could explain (though not excuse) him being The Worst. An interesting detail in the backstory Charlie reads is that he’s never actually stated to eat the forbidden fruit. We see Eve take it, but not him. Maybe the reason that he’s in Heaven, but we never see or hear of Eve or their children in either afterlife, is that in this canon’s version of Genesis, he’s obedient and didn’t commit the original sin, only to be cast out anyway. Regardless of what exactly happens in Eden, he and Eve are forced to fend for themselves in the wilderness. Suddenly they need survival instincts. They can bleed and starve and get sick and loads of animals want to eat them. They have existential dread. Not to mention the marital tension. Why? Because the same angel who stole his first wife messed with his second one! As a result, people can sin. They can hurt each other. This allows Cain to invent murder on his brother. He’s then cursed to wander the Earth, eternally living with his guilt and grief. Oh, and where can dead souls live on now? Where might Abel be trapped forever? Hell, a dimension made of evil, everything bad about the new and degraded human experience taken to the ultimate extreme. You’ll never guess why it exists (Lucifer. It’s Lucifer again). So Adam loses two kids with one stone that was indirectly thrown by one fucking bird guy. Can you imagine how you would feel, having lived that life?

You would have issues. A lot of issues.

No wonder he scorns redemption so much. In his eyes, free will is synonymous with sin - with suffering. But thinking damned souls to be evil incarnate at least lets him take vengeance. It lets him feel the wrathful satisfaction of physically stabbing and hacking his way through representatives of the force that cost him paradise. Broke his family. Killed his child. Maybe he was a genuinely good person when he died. For the most part. Maybe stewing in all that unprocessed trauma while watching the horrors of human history unfold and being venerated and indulged in the perfect afterlife without any of his family changed him for the worse. If you can have a redemption arc in Hell, you can have a corruption arc in Heaven.

After all, Lucifer lost faith in humanity over time. But he has Charlie. Adam’s ‘daughters’ in Heaven are the Exorcists (he calls them “[his] girls” and names them, so he probably creates them), of which I bet Lute was the first. That’s a really twisted dynamic. Like, “From now on, my kids are killing people on MY terms”. Lute having parallels with Charlie makes her being the new main villain even better!

This got out of hand. What I mean to say is, the first human family and how they relate to the theme of free will have huge potential for exploration and development. And if Adam is reborn as a sinner, it would be precisely the Hazbin Hotel blend of heartbreaking and hilarious to have him reunite with Eve, Abel, Seth, etc. in Hell and they’re all like “What. The FUCK?” and his whole horrible personality just collapses in on itself.

[reborrowing]

curses and confession, part 1 (Stranger Swap)

okayyy this has gotten past 6k and I really want to post so I'm just gonna slice it up since my chapters are usually ~2k anyways!

next | Stranger Swap masterpost Hollow deals with a witch after having an unprecedented close call while checking in on his sibling (probably read that first if you havent!) word count: ~1.8k contains: angst, fear, survivor’s guilt, self-loathing

Hollow

The property behind Glenwood Court apartments had an old, dilapidated shed that the owner mostly used for storage, when they remembered it exists at all. Amid all their junk and forgotten landscaping tools lived an unusual little man named Ely, though most who knew of him referred to him as the garden witch. 

He was a borrower by most metrics: small, secretive, and prone to hoarding any trinkets left unattended. He had a tail and the same sharp hearing you would expect a borrower to have. But he was also quite visibly something Other. Ostentatious, absolutely out of line with a borrower's instinctual pull towards the shadows. He had a love of light and glitter that accentuated the pair of iridescent wings that hung limply down his back. And the tallest borrower he’d ever met had still only been at eye level with his chest.

Most borrowers were afraid of him. Of course they were, they were such a naturally skittish people. But they had good reason to come visit him anyways. Ely was a miracle worker. Something out of a children’s story. A magician. A witch.

He had clients come from all over the neighborhood, maybe even further corners of the city, because he made trades no one else could. The last of your rice for a cloak you lost a decade ago. A secret for a pinch of luck exactly when you needed it most. Give up a warm enough memory and never go cold again. Odd trades for small impossibilities. The prices didn’t always make sense up front, but they always worked out in the end. He didn’t give out anything for free, Hollow had seen that much. 

She watched with a fascinated sort of disgust as the witch molded a stranger’s words into physical paste with a practiced hand. The stranger walked off with a handful of dust and a smile they tried to swallow when they noticed someone was looking.

The witch called Hollow forward. She swallowed nervously and took a seat on a hackysack across from the small giant. The shed was silent for a few seconds as Hollow tried to remember what it was she had planned on saying. 

“You’ve been here before, haven’t you?” the witch said through a thoughtful expression

“Ah, yeah. I–a couple times,” she said. Chai had dragged him here for a sleep aid during the pregnancy, and again shortly after Sunny was born for a sleep alternative.

“I almost don’t recognize you without the piebald. Are they alright?”

“Xe’s fine, I’m not here for…xe doesn’t know I’m here,” Hollow said.

The witch raised a brow as his lips bent into an impish smirk. Hollow tensed as she leaned forward like some housewife gathering gossip. 

“Making trouble, are we? Or are we planning a surprise? I promise I’m quite good at either, for the right price,” he said.

“It’s nothing to do with xem, I just had some questions. About magic. Just questions, I don’t need you to cast…it’s about something I saw happen to someone else, my sibling. Val? I wanted to know, how…did you trade with them?”

The witch drummed his fingers contemplatively against his work table in a quick rhythm, then shook his head. He didn’t remember anyone by that name.

Hollow bit her lip as she worried about where else magic might come from, but she wasn’t entirely surprised. The shed was next door and Val had never been the adventurous type. Not that Hollow knew about, anyway. She could hardly imagine them climbing through the fence. Although lately, every time she tried to imagine much of anything about her sibling, she fell back into nightmares about Val’s hands punching through the colony walls and burying her in rubble or…or worse. 

“Then, do you know where else they could’ve found magic? Or, however you say that. Bargained for it,” Hollow said.

“Other magic? There’s plenty, if you know how to look. I can’t say I know of many others in the area with my level of expertise, but I can ask around. What is it you think you saw?”

“I know what I saw, I’m not stupid.” Hollow said tersely. She glanced around to be sure there was no one who might overhear. “They were huge. Human.”

“Human,” the witch echoed doubtfully. Several seconds passed as the witch considered Hollow’s claim. 

“You saw this? Were they…solid, do you know? Real?”

“They threw me across the cupboard, so yeah, I’d say they were real,” Hollow scoffed.

“How curious.”

The witch smiled and golden wire bangles clattered down his wrist as he abruptly stood up to jump up onto the next shelf. His wings flared for a second, catching the candlelight, even though the jump onto the bracket was low enough that Hollow could’ve easily cleared it. She fidgeted with the frayed edge of her sleeve, not sure if she was supposed to follow. She didn’t really want to see the witch’s full collection of eccentricities.

There was a cluster of thumps overhead as Ely fumbled with whatever it was he was doing. It sounded like a bag full of pebbles, or maybe marbles. Some nonsense. Hollow hated believing in this shit, that someone could just break reality by waving their hands just wrong. There was enough to fear in the world without worrying about finding magic lurking in the shadows beside her.

The witch came back down a minute later, holding a book of scrap paper with messy stitches for binding. It was about half as tall as Hollow was, large enough to be awkward in even the witch’s hands. He sat on the floor and flipped through it, too fast for Hollow to try reading along, though she noticed there were a lot of symbols that weren't a part the alphabet she did know. A minute passed and Ely hmmed and shook his head, evidently there was nothing useful there for him either. 

“Did your sibling say anything about what had happened?”

Hollow fidgeted with her climbing floss. She felt the witch staring at him even without looking up. 

“I didn’t ask. We didn’t talk. I just ran when they saw me. And then they…that was when they threw me. I wasn’t there long,” she said.

“When was this, anyway? You went and saw your sibling without speaking to them?” 

Hollow hadn’t spoken with Val since she had abandoned them—10 years, give or take. Even when Ritos had shown up with Val limping along behind him, Hollow had only been able to stare. They were a ghost back then and a monster now. What was she supposed to say?

Sorry I left you with her, but I was sure she was going to kill me. Sorry I didn’t come back, but I figured you’d be dead. I’m sorry I didn’t do more for you.

Please don’t hurt me. I’m sorry.

“I came here for answers, not to be questioned,” she said stiffly.

“Patience, dear. I don’t know any magic like what you’ve described, and wouldn’t it be nice if I didn’t waste time finding you answers you don’t even want?”

“What does it matter whether or not I talked to them?”

The witch took a seat beside her as if they were two close friends instead of near strangers. Hollow flinched as one of Ely’s long fingers tilted her chin so the two were making eye contact. Unnatural. Everything about this man was unnatural.

“What does it matter? If you’re not on speaking terms with your sibling, what does it matter what magics they play with in their free time? Why are the answers so important that you’ll come out and deal with me?”

“It’s dangerous. Them, I mean, or…if they’re h—if they can pass themself off as human like that, they could come after the colony just like any real human. I don’t need to explain why that’s a problem, do I?”

“Fear? Then why waste time coming to me for answers? Your council has its ways to deal with threats, doesn’t it? Even humans,” Ely said. 

“I don’t know if I want them…dealt with. I don’t know where they’d even go or…”

“So what do you want from me?” the witch asked.

“Answers. I want to know what’s going on,” Hollow said stubbornly. 

“Yes, and I don’t yet have any answers to give you. How I go about finding them depends on why you want them. It will be a lot more work if you’re looking to imitate whatever spell they’ve used.”

Hollow’s face flushed—she’d thought about it, of course. She assumed everyone imagined being human now and then, even if they didn’t talk about it. Who wouldn’t want to know what the world really looked like from human eyes? And Hollow had a list of giants she’d love to confront face-to-face if given the chance: that girl, the leafblower asshole, the gardener, the dog owner across the street, the miniature maker…but it was a daydream. If this sort of thing was real, then dreaming about that sort of violence could invite it. She didn’t really want to fight every other giant that had ever inconvenienced her, even if she could do it without getting hurt. Aggression was their game. 

“I just want to know what happened.”

Ely tilted his head. He looked unsatisfied, like a cat whose prey managed to get out of reach. Hollow looked back down at her lap and took a breath. She didn’t talk about this. She tried not to think about it. There was no good to come of it, just crushed feelings and guilt.

“And…I, yeah, I worry about Val, too. I’m afraid of what they might have gotten themself into. I want to know if they’re…okay. It’s hardly a sin that I care about my sibling, is it?”

It felt like a sin. How dare she? After everything she had failed to do, how dare she claim to care? She’d abandoned them to a horrible fate and then lied about it so no one would find out what she’d done.

“Maybe this was a mistake,” Hollow muttered. 

Ely rubbed her back and for a split second, Hollow felt like a child getting pulled into her mother’s lap after a bad day. And then the overlarge borrower inhaled deeply, almost dreamily, and Hollow pulled away.

“I do love a good confession,” Ely sighed, “Even when the truth is so...plain. You’d likely be better going back and talking to Val yourself, but I’ll see what I can find out, without harming your sibling. Is this agreeable?”

“What do you want from me in exchange?”

Ely smiled, toothy as any predator. Hollow stood up to put at least a few centimeters of distance between them. 

“Don’t worry about payment. I enjoy an excuse to research with my kin and…this has been even more pleasant. I should have some sort of answer for you after the full moon, but you’re welcome to return any time if you need anything else.”

Hollow shook the witch’s hand to seal the deal, then hurried off the shelf. She didn’t want to spend a second more than necessary in that wretched shed.

~

taglist: @da3dm @whumpsday

[scoops-aboy86]

In which Eddie panics a bit, Wayne is a voice of reason, and Steve is really going through it but finds some relief in Eddie bringing him lunch.

Part 1, part 1.5, part 2, part 3, part 4 of the love spell no go au

Eddie does not, in fact, see Robin or Steve the next day. He holes up in his room for three days until Wayne drags him out by his ear, sits him down, and pries an explanation out of him because “do you know how many times that Harrington boy has called, knocked, and slid notes under the door trying to track you down? I’m surprised he hasn’t climbed in your damn window by now.”

He breaks and tells Wayne about the love spell and getting to know Steve. He walks his uncle through the entire strangled route of his logic and the thoughts he’s been stuck in his head with ever since the other day. 

And, okay, the whole prom scenario had been a completely theoretical product of his overactive and dramatic imagination, but something like that might have happened. Except if Eddie, instead of fucking up, had somehow cast it really, really strong… 

“That’s why he keeps calling, because of the spell,” Eddie concludes. “It makes sense, doesn’t it?” He desperately wants to hear that no, actually, he’s lost his marbles, no one can brute force a spell into being smart and biding it’s time like that. 

But Wayne sighs, somehow conveying both endless patience and weary amusement, and says, “Eddie, what have I always told you?”

“Uh… never tell anyone that magic is real?”

Wayne snorts. “That, sure, and that magic ain’t ever something outta nothing. Your daddy always thought he could make gold from thin air, never even tried spinning it outta straw, and look where it landed him.” Jail. Eddie winces. “The reason no one bothers with love spells much is they gotta have some potential to grab onto, so they fail more’n you’d think. Spell or not, Ed, there was always something there.”

By the end of the conversation, Wayne has more or less managed to hammer in the idea that maybe all the spell had done was keep them apart until they fit better. Eddie retreats to his room again, this time to brainstorm how to make up for the abrupt three day radio silence. 

Steve has had… a rough few days. If it hadn’t been for Wayne Munson assuring him that no, his nephew hadn’t disappeared like Will Byers or the Holland girl, just “got a bug up his ass about something and is still holed up in his room working on it,” he would have completely spiraled. As it was, he’d had trouble sleeping even before smoking through the last of his stash, on edge all the time, swimming laps at night because that feels better than doing nothing. 

So when he looks up at the jingle of the bell over the door and sees Eddie slink into Family Video, he’s torn between relief and upset. If Eddie is fine, and very obviously not eaten by monsters or kidnapped to an alternate dimension, then where the hell has he been? Why hadn’t he returned any of the messages Steve had left him? Is the return to jock tendencies that off-putting?

His eyes catch on the bag and cardboard carrier Eddie is carrying, laden with three paper cups from the nearest diner. The warm greasy smell hits him, and it’s been a long few days of wanting to stress eat but not letting himself. Steve’s mouth fills with saliva—just because he hasn’t had his lunch break yet.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asks flatly, since there’s no one else in the store right now. 

Eddie ducks his head. “Ye-eah, I deserve that.” He holds up the bag and drinks, tentatively meeting Steve’s gaze from under his bangs. “Brought you a peace offering?”

Steve breaths out sharply and runs a hand through his hair. He’d probably…Yeah, he’d probably been overthinking everything. Wound too tight, like Robin said. Not everything is a sign that the world is ending; Eddie had probably just been busy and knows that Steve is kind of needy, and brought him lunch as an apology. 

God, it smells like his usual order from before Starcourt. And Eddie is here now, perfectly fine except for the shadows under his eyes. What does Eddie have to be so worried about?

Get it together, Harrington. 

“Okay,” Steve says, not bothering to wonder if he can make whatever Eddie’s brought him fit into his diet—cheat days are a thing for a reason, right? “I’ll let Keith know I’m taking my break.”

Tilting his head to one side, Eddie is now close enough to set his offerings on the checkout counter. “No Robin today?”

“I wish. It’s her dad’s birthday, so she got roped into family stuff.”

“Hm.” He flicks at one of the straws poked through the top of the lid. “Looks like I brought one too many milkshakes then. Which is the more egregious sin, letting it go to waste or sharing it with Keith?”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “Second one. I’ll go punch out, meet me around back?”

A few minutes later they’re sitting across from each other at the table behind the little strip mall that houses Family Video and the arcade. It’s technically for anyone who works there, not just the video store, but it’s hot as balls out so there’s no competition for the spot. The first mouthful of milkshake is a welcome explosion of cold and rich chocolatey goodness in Steve’s mouth, and he hums approvingly. Holy shit, he’d forgotten how much he liked ice cream. 

“How’m I doing on the apology?” Eddie asks, starting to pull foil-wrapped burgers out of the greasy bag. 

“Pretty good, if one of those has cheese or bacon on it.” Steve accepts the one held out for him and unwrapping it to find both, and a second patty. He takes a big bite and hums in satisfaction, chewing for a moment and pleasantly aware that Eddie is watching him. As soon as his mouth is empty enough to speak, he says, “... Alright, you’re forgiven. Just answer your damn phone next time, man, okay? Let me know you’re still alive?”

“Sorry,” Eddie says, looking guilty. “Yeah, sorry, I will.” He nudges a large fries across the table, followed by several packets of ketchup. Eddie hates ketchup on fries, because he’s some sort of heathen, but doesn’t so much as comment when Steve squirts all of the packets down one side of the container for himself. “Didn’t mean to make you worry about me, Stevie, I just… got in my head about something.” 

Steve swallows a mixed bite of fries and burger, christ he’s hungry today. Must be the relief of knowing that Eddie is okay. “Anything I can help with?” he offers, because now that his ruffled feathers are soothed, he doesn’t like how tired his friend looks or the hint of melancholy that had flashed across his face at Steve’s requests. Eddie, who had looked at his bruises from Starcourt and visibly didn’t buy the government-concocted explanation for them but agreed not to ask, and thinks the source of his recent tension is from a few days of trauma rather than going on two years.

But also—Stevie? That’s new. Steve takes another big bite of his burger to hide how much the nickname makes him want to beam, that would be so weird given the current topic of conversation. 

“Nah,” Eddie says. He mimes knocking his fist against one temple, other hand tapping the underneath of the table to make a wooden sound. “Got it worked out now. I’m good.”

“Well, good.” Despite himself, Steve grins around his next bite of burger. He swallows, snags Eddie’s milkshake (strawberry) and then Robin’s (vanilla), following with a sip from his own—a poor man’s Neapolitan. “Want to come over tonight and finish that movie?”

A surprised look crosses Eddie’s face at the offer, followed by something else that Steve can’t read, and then a small grin of his own. “Sure, if you don’t mind starting it over. I’ve kinda forgotten the beginning.”

Which is fine, because Robin had insisted on finishing it (“You know I don’t do well with cliffhangers, Steve. Do you want me to not be able to fall asleep tonight trying to guess what happens next? Do you?”) and Steve isn’t sure he remembers where they paused it last time anyway. He’s pleased as he finishes his burger, licking the grease from his fingers and grabbing a bunch of fries positively dripping with ketchup, hurriedly getting them in his mouth before any can drop on his work clothes. Feels even better when Eddie chuckles and reaches across the table to wipe a smear of the condiment that had dripped down the side of his chin, almost making it to his work vest. The contact is nice, makes his heart beat faster. 

It doesn’t have to mean anything, but he wants it to.

Tag list (comment to be added): @hotluncheddie @8em-em-em8

Part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11

[kay-elle-cee]

@jilytoberfest 31 Prompts: Day 31 || 1733 Words || Read on Ao3 A/N: I would like to state for the record that I know trick-or-treating wasn’t a thing in the UK in the early '80s but please just suspend your disbelief I’m BEGGING you. This is already going canon-divergent so let’s pretend trick-or-treating exists, cool thanks.

Additionally a quick little thank you for joining me on this ride <3 I've read every tag and comment and I'm so grateful for all the love for this fic! Keep an eye out for a masterpost with all these linked, and please feel free to drop into my ask box and let me know if you had any favorites! —

Three raps on the door and James opens it wide, only to find himself immediately arrested by the sight of the beautiful woman in front of him. Her auburn hair is swept over her right shoulder, a pointed witch’s hat sitting tall atop it as brilliant green eyes flicker between him and a small boy that sits on her hip. The boy is smiling, a disheveled mess of black hair poking out from under a little green hat—the stem to the soft orange pumpkin costume his little arms and legs stick through. 

“Trick or treat,” the woman smiles at James, and his lips immediately pull into a grin, even as her eyes once again travel to the small boy on her hip. “Can you say ‘trick or treat’, Harry?”

Harry rocks his weight against his mother’s side, bouncing with excitement as his eyes (green, like hers) sparkle at James. “Dada! Dada!” he babbles, arms outstretched, and James reaches out to take his son with a gentle smile, settling on his hip. 

“It was a long shot,” Lily sighs with a weak shrug, taking a few steps forward and nestling herself beneath James’ other outstretched arm—his whole world now within his grasp. “We’ll just have to try again next year.”

“Well if it helps,” he places a kiss on her head, “you two were my favorite visitors of the night.” Nevermind the ‘only’ that lingers in the air—the heavy weight of isolation that sits, strapped around their necks, trying its damndest to drag them further into despair every day for the last ten months.

But not tonight—not on Halloween, when they can coo over their son and his excitement, when they can enjoy the fact that they can spend another holiday together as a family (especially when the alternative is too gut-wrenching to consider). James places a firmer, longer kiss on his wife’s head as the thought flickers across his mind. Not tonight.

The pop of apparition on the other side of their wards sends his nerves on high alert. Exchanging a quick, loaded glance, Lily takes Harry inside with a protective arm around him as James reaches for his wand.

It’s not there.

He follows behind Lily in a hurry, mind racing at who could be visiting—they didn’t have any planned visits and everyone knows better than to show up unannounced. 

“James—” 

Lily’s eyes are wide and fearful when his attention snaps to her, misplaced wand securely in his hand once more. Harry’s started to fuss—the moods of his parents alerting him to something wrong, and she’s got both of her hands holding him securely to her chest, rocking back and forth.

“It’ll be fine, Lil.”

It’s an empty promise, but one he has to make. For his sanity, for his family, he has to make it. 

Silently casting a Shield, he approaches the door just as frantic beating disrupts the silence of the house.

“Prongs! Lily!”

James’ shoulders stiffen. It’s Sirius. Or rather—it sounds like Sirius.

Sirius, who had insisted on not visiting too often so as to not draw suspicion. Sirius, who had shockingly adhered to a pre-planned visit only rule. Sirius, who’s now here, unexpectedly.

“Please, please open the door or I’ll open it myself!”

Sparing a quick glance to Lily over his shoulder, James holds his wand up to the door.

“What did you say to me the day Harry was born?”

“Oh thank Merlin,” he hears with a final thunk against the wood. “I told you that it seemed unfair for Lily to do all the hard work only for him to come out looking like a shrunken duplicate of you.” James’ shoulders relax the smallest fraction at the correct answer. “Now, let me in immediately. We don’t have time. Wormtail’s been compromised. You aren’t safe here.”

The blood in his veins turns to ice, the sounds of the world dropping away as a ringing intensifies, mixed only with the sensation of his heart pounding painfully in his throat.

Wormtail’s been compromised.

“—should’ve never listened to me. Fuck, but we’ve fixed it, okay?”

“James.” The croak of Lily’s voice is what pulls him out of his stupor, more than Sirius’ ramblings through the door, more than the pounding of his heart. Lily. Harry. Wormtail’s been compromised. “James, love, open the door.”

His muscles act of their own accord as he twists the handle and he’s nearly barrelled over by Sirius’ determined strides as the door flings open and the man walks in, long hair wild and unusual panic in his gaze. Grey eyes fall on Lily and Harry and James sees the sigh of relief expelled in the rise and fall of Sirius’ chest before he snaps into movement and slams the door shut.

“What do you mean ‘compromised’?” Lily whispers, eyes shimmering with terror.

Sirius shakes his head quickly. “I can’t get into the specifics right now but I went to check on him and he was just gone. No struggle, nothing.” His wild eyes turn back to James, who's still standing by the front door, wand clutched tightly in his hand. “Something feels off. Bad off. Fawley came with me as a lookout and I immediately had her help setting up a new Fidelius on my flat—she and Graham had done it for their parents at the beginning of all of this.” He runs a hand over his face, and when the hand is gone, the eyes that meet James’ are determined and tinged with fury. “We need to get you there now.”

Head still reeling from all this news, James nods, motioning for Lily and Harry as he walks over to the fireplace—Disapparating from inside their wards is impossible.

“James—” Lily’s hand grabs his wrist in a death grip, and he cuts her off with a swift, firm kiss, hand smoothing down the red hair on the crown of her head, the black witch’s hat discarded at some point in the excitement.

“Take Harry and go, we’re right behind you.”

“32 Longmoore Street, Lily. The Floo is open.”

With a resolute nod and a clenched jaw, Lily carefully steps into the Floo, green powder spilling to her feet as her hold on Harry tightens and she calls out Sirius’ address. James’ attention is fixed on her, watching as she and Harry disappear to safety in a swell of green flames right as a red beam of light jets through the window, shattering the glass and knocking Sirius off his feet.

Wormtail’s been compromised.

Without hesitation and with everything in him, James throws up another Shield Charm as he drops to crouch low, slinging Sirius’ arm around his neck and firing off a stunner into the darkness outside his window before dragging the two of them to the fireplace.

He knocks the little bowl of floo powder to the ground and scrapes as much as he can into shaking hands as curses continue to fly at the shield. The last one—some sort of dark purple spell that he’s seen on the battlefield once or twice, shatters the shield and the front wall of the cottage, dousing the room in drywall and debris.

Heart lurching in throat, James slams Sirius into the back of the Floo, dropping the green powder as he hurls himself into the flames as well, arm tightening around the unconscious man.

“32 Longmoore Street,” James states as loud as he dares with a trembling voice. The green flames dance around him, higher and higher until it obscures his vision and the floor drops out beneath him—a bone-white wand in a pale hand the last image he sees of their home.

Squeezing his eyes tight, hand clutching his wand and shoulder supporting Sirius’ limp figure, he tumbles out of the grate moments later, knees buckling as the two of them slam to the floor. A hand is on him in an instant and his ears reattune to the sound of Lily’s sobs as she checks him for injuries, Harry crying from his spot on her hip.

“—been holding my breath, I felt sick seeing you disappear, oh my god, James what do we—Sirius!”

With a groan, James sits up, clasping Lily’s free hand with his in an effort to provide some reassurance (for who, his brain is too adrenaline-addled to answer honestly). He brings the back of her hand to his lips, holding it there even as his eyes remain focused on Sirius’ limp form on the rug while he pulls out his wand. Placing the tip to the other man’s chest, he murmurs a shaky ‘Rennervate’, his breath of relief fanning across Lily’s skin as Sirius stirs at the spell, teeth clenching as he pushes himself up.

James shifts so that he can now fully wrap himself around Lily and Harry, his arms holding them close as the shock and terror of the past few minutes begins to settle over him. Wormtail’s been compromised.

His thumb lightly rubs soothing circles on Lily’s arm and he gives Harry a kiss on the head before looking over at Sirius, his throat constricting. “Peter…”

At the name, Sirius’ jaw clenches, his eyes reflecting a hatred James had only seen reserved for his own parents. “I’m going to kill him, James,” he whispers, a growl curling the edges of the words into something deadly. He rubs a hand over his face, eyes flickering down to where Harry’s finally stopped crying before meeting James’ gaze again. “So help me god, I’m going to kill him.”

“Sirius,” Lily’s voice comes, weaker than it had been in their own home, but still with that spark of strength that had carried them all through these months of isolation. She reaches a hand out for him and Sirius grasps it, the four of them connected here, grounded by touch with the proof that they all made it out alive. “You saved us. Don’t risk yourself now.” Dropping a kiss to the top of Harry’s head, she presses her back closer against James’ chest, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever let her and Harry out of his sight again after tonight. Doesn’t know if he can bear the thought of not having everyone he loves within arms’ reach.

A lump has wedged itself into his throat. “Tell Dumbledore,” he manages around the swell of emotion, attention on Sirius. “Send a patronus, but don’t leave. You’re no safer than we are right now.”

[madisonmontgomeryimagines]

no coven alternative universe, in which reader who’s a fan of her, and her movies recognizes madison in a bar (or any place you want really), and asks for a picture. Except that madison’s a little mean and annoying (as she usually is, and we love her for that), so reader goes "yeah no you know what i’m not a fan anymore bye", and it strikes madison’s huge ego so she kinda tries to win her back

Everyone was entitled to their own privacy, and they should be granted their own anonymity if they so desired, but when every action they took only defined who they were with all of their dazzling star-studded accomplishments, it didn't seem like that was the desire at all. Still, you hung back at the table with your brother's date, watched the way other people interacted with her as you tried to quell your excitement enough for your heart to stop deafening you.

Madison Montgomery seemed to cast away nearly anyone who wanted her attention, though to be fair you had mainly seen men approaching her. There were a handful of lucky individuals who she seemed to appraise and tolerate for a few minutes, drinking in their companionship until they were dismissed. You couldn't really distinguish the deciding factor for her, and you hung back as your excitement crossed the line into anxiety.

By the time you'd worked up your nerve to even say hello, you were alone at the table and the bar was mercifully more quiet. Deciding it was as good a time as any, you finally pulled yourself from your chair and walked to the bar, still figuring out what to even say when she turned her head as if feeling your presence the second it broached the barrier of space she had claimed. Madison's piercing gaze nearly made you stop short, but the hint of a lazy smirk on her lips encouraged you to take those final two steps.

"Hi, I don't mean to bother you. I really admire your work, Madison, and you along with some of your roles have been real sources of inspiration for me." A measured breath, steadying yourself. "Would you mind if I got a picture-"

Her voice overlapped with your question.

"Then don't. If you don't want to bother me, just turn back around and..."

You missed the last few words as your brain backpedaled to process what she'd just said, letting them soak in enough for you to realize you were shaking your head. "Right. Forget it, I thought you were someone else. One less fan to breathe down your neck. Have a nice night."

And then you'd fled, turned away from her to go close out your tab and go home. Your body blazed with an inferno of discomfort, and you knew it was only a matter of time before the stunned anger evaporated to leave the hurt raw and sensitive.

"Wait-"

You didn't. You didn't want to, at least, yet you found yourself rooted to the spot. For a second everything around you felt fuzzy and too far away, making you close your eyes against the dizziness. When you opened them, you were sitting on the stool beside Madison's. You didn't remember turning back around or sitting with her, but you were again close enough to smell her perfume.

"Hear me out."

You couldn't explain it, but her words seemed to shimmer in the air between the two of you, and as much as you wanted to get up and leave, a blanket of pacification was weighing you down. In the back recesses of your mind, you felt a little like a hostage. She seemed pleased enough with your immobility.

"Look, I'm not saying it's right," that was as close as you'd get to an admission that she might be wrong, "but when so many people put you on a pedestal towering above them, tell you how much better than them you are, it's your obligation to be better than them." She paused, nodding to the bartender when a glass was set in front of you. Her elegant fingers trailed along the creased fold of the napkin beside her own glass as she studied you.

"I'm not sure this is helping your case."

"Shut up and drink your drink. Why do you love when I'm a bitch on screen but no one can take it in person?" Madison's dark eyes rolled, and you contemplated your drink, really not seeing where this was supposed to be turning around. Still, you took a sip of something that tasted like peach.

"Do you still want a picture? I'm not staying here all night."

[smallnico]

oooh a good wyll analysis we are eating good today. thank you so much I am chomping and gnawing and chewing. Wyll is such a great character and he had sooo much potential, but unfortunately -gestures at games- thank you for putting things down into words it was a delight to read ^^

i've got more in the tank probably! any one of the people i talk to normally will tell you that i can go on and on and on with very little prompting.

speaking of wyll's confidence issues (apropos of the ask that sparked this), you get some interesting dialogue options as him that drive them home in a way. a lot of the wyll-exclusive dialogue options you have in the grove during a wyll origin run can be summarized as like, "bluster and self-hype for the sake of projecting confidence" (very Yes It Is Me, Spiderman, Have No Fear, You Can Be A Hero Like Me) that really makes you understand why lae'zel tends to get on his ass for self-centredness or hypocrisy, as well as the option of dialogue that seems, conversely, uncharacteristically self-effacing, like "oh i have no idea what you're talking about, how did you know who i am, i have no idea what to say".

i like to interpret alternative dialogue options for origin characters (including durge at times) as like, things that genuinely occur to the character to say, things that they are tempted to think or speak into being. a part of wyll exists that is so willing to fake it til he makes it for the love and confidence of the people of the sword coast that he's willing to accuse that one tiefling (the one with the bugbear assassin and the soul coin) of like, daring to presume that one as noble as the blade of frontiers would Ever consort with devils, like full defensive gaslighting style. the man believes himself fundamentally incapable of both working with devils and being worthy of love or trust or acclaim. the other converse response in that exchange is "what? how did you know about that?" which, smooth one there, mr. of frontiers. but it catches him so off guard, that dialogue option really belies the fear that exists of being discovered as a 'fraud', the fear that also would prompt the aforementioned bluster and lying. (shoutout also to auntie ethel's vicious mockery calling him the "fraud of frontiers", as well as "daddy's regret". ouch.)

and why shouldn't it make him afraid? man was driven out of the only home he's ever known, away from the father he Still idolizes and looks up to, unable to explain his own actions. i also would start to feel like the truth wasn't enough, that maybe i didn't deserve grace, that there was no excuse for being what i am. it can cause real psychological harm to someone, not being able to explain themselves or their experiences to another person -- it takes away from a person's ability to process their memories, because the memories are just... trapped in your brain's own echo chamber of fear and regret and self-doubt. like maybe it Didn't need to happen that way. maybe i Was jawing at the mouth to make a devil deal. maybe there really Is no excuse for what i did. maybe tiamat Wasn't rising. maybe the whole thing didn't happen at all. like. being able to have someone else listen to the story and go "wyll, truly, it sounds like you could not have had a more noble reason to sell your soul to the hells. i wish you hadn't had to sell your limited time on toril to the hells, too" was probably a Moment In Time for him. like hey i'm not sure that i believe that yet but it does feel good to be able to talk about it and to hear those words. maybe i Am just a good man because i'm trying. maybe i Don't have to punish myself forever to prove it.

there's also something to be said and dissected about how florrick, when you rescue her from the inn, says something like "i know you probably hold little love for your father now but" and wyll has no option to rebut that point, even though the internal narration and essentially all evidence is like "of course you love your father. he cast you out but you know how important he is to the people of baldur's gate, and to you. he's a hero. he's the hero you may never truly be". and it's just so fucked up how so many of the voices that influence wyll's moral compass are the same ones that end up making him think like he somehow isn't worthy or able to do something like care about his dad. like. this is in no way a florrick hate account bc i love her. but for real the way she interacts with wyll just. oof. oof. hey florrick? you are proving his negative internal narrative correct by externalizing it. what the hell. stop it. but like it doesn't even occur to him to correct her -- i'm not over this. she said "i'm sure you hate your dad. but please save him anyway" and he has no option to say "i don't hate my father, but i'm sure he hates me and i'm worried he's right to". he's just like "yeah, that's fair" or "would he be happy to see me if i did?" like augh wyll ravengard the man that you are.

speaking of (gestures at game), i Think they're fixing this in patch 7, but it's so fucked up how if ulder ravengard dies you never get the final point wyll gets from him in his quest where his dad tells him like. you don't need a dragon. you were powerful enough to seek out and defeat the dragon. the city will be safe in your hands. like it doesn't occur to wyll to think that on his own without his father's approval, and that's so fucked up and sad to me. like wyll you don't need that man's approval! you don't need it! he sucks! wyll's dad is both a politician AND a cop and that's why wyll is the way he is (half-joking. nuance exists, obviously). ulder ravengard cast out his 17 year old son moments after he noticed that wyll had fucked up without hearing an explanation or trusting that there was a good one. wyll doesn't have nightmares about all the monsters he's fought or the scars he's acquired (and he has more visible ones quantity- and diversity-wise than i think anyone in the party, save maybe lae'zel), he has nightmares about his father casting him out. that's fucked up. the first thing wyll's dad does when you rescue his ass from the iron throne is yell at wyll for his devil appearance. i don't know if that's going to change (patch 7 notes say it will), but right now he reacts the same as if you renewed the pact with mizora to save him, basically just chastising his son Yet Again for the devil pact before learning any context. the vibe is like none of the shit that's happened between then and now matters. you know, the way wyll acts. like how nothing good he's done for anyone really matters or makes him a good person. like how none of the effort he's put in makes him innately worthy of love and trust and respect if he doesn't adopt a pretense of perfect heroism. grand duke ulder ravengard when i get my hands on you

anyway all this to say i wish more than anything there were a way to communicate to wyll that his father kind of sucks and that his approval is not the objective marker of good or worthiness. the way the game is now kind of implies that it is. wyll deserves to cultivate his own self-worth independent of his father's approval AND he deserves a sincere apology from that man. because duke ravengard WAS in the wrong, and it somehow takes more than selling wyll's soul to the hells forever or bending over backwards to violate his pact to save the duke for him to finally acknowledge that he disowned and exiled his own son for no good reason. wyll, your dad can be What This City Needs and also be dead fucking wrong about you. your father does not determine whether you are a good person -- you do.

[gleamingtempest]

Danganronpa Despair Time - Fan Game Predictions Discourse & Relation to Danganronpa Death Order Tropes

Hey hey! In danganronpa there are characters that take up a significantly larger portion of the screentime & plot relevance when compared to other characters in the cast; this is something which is almost always universally true when applied to any fan projects which heavily follow the format of a danganronpa game. One aspect which comes with being a 'core character' is very often a tendecy for that character to not die unless it is the 1st, 5th or 6th chapter.

When people make death order predictions for fan projects like DRDT, they sometimes frame things so that characters I might consider obviously 'core characters' die in the 2nd, 3rd or 4th chapters - I am interested in hearing whether or not this is just something I overthink/others don't consciously think about or if there are people who have genuine arguments for why a character who might feel 'core' to the story in a format like this would die in a middle section rather than at the start or a later climatic point in the story.

So basically, if anyone here does believe that a 'core character' in the DRDT cast might die at some point in the middle of the story like the 2nd, 3rd, or 4th chapters, do you mind explaining to me why this is if you even think/or have thought of them as a core character?

Alternatively, if anyone would like to, I would love to see which characters other people consider 'core characters' to the DRDT cast; the ones I consider very important or obviously narratively signficant are Xander, Charles, Whit, Eden, David and Teruko.

One very popular example I've seen of this is the somewhat popular theory that Charles will die in chapter 3 because of a joke Whit made in chapter 1; I personally consider Charles an obvious longterm support character so I would be very interested in hearing people's thoughts on that.

Another thing I would like to note is that obviously, what happens in the canon games doesn't have to be universally applied to fan projects; the tropes present in them being subverted is a big part of the appeal of projects such as these actually, so I fully understand why they might not be adhered to. In this case in particular though, I think it's more of a storytelling trope in general than a danganronpa trope & it's one which is very helpful imo. It feels very awkward to me when a character which receives a lot of setup & attention dies halfway through the story - like an anticlimax in a way.

A weak example of this already happening in DRDT itself would ofc be Xander being the first victim. I would say this feels like a very traditional thing for danganronpa to do as a way to set up it's narrative; giving a character a significant portion of the screentime early on & a close connection to the protagonist so that when they die first they maintain their general importance as a figure in the story while also allowing for other character to take on a more central role in the plot going forward.

That's only one chapter though, so it's not really the strongest example haha. It'll be more obvious whether or not we're adhering to this going forward in the story I assume.

But yeah, super interested in hearing any thoughts on this! I can't say it's something I understand very well but it is something which I consider somewhat valuable for discussion. ^^

[phoenixcatch7]

Random mdzs headcanons that I don't think interfere with canon:

Though sufficient cultivation cures this, lwj is short sighted. (this is because of that mxtx interview but if he actually was short sighted he would be wearing glasses in canon.) Similarly, so would lxc and lqr is already halfway there lol.

Wen chao is barely older than the main cast. Like a couple years at most. This is is because it took until his poor wife (who shall forever be unknown, rip) being mentioned for me to go 'that's an ADULT?!'. Everything from the voice to the face to the short sighted immaturity and the lying to adults in charge, there's no way this guy is anything over 20.

Lqr isn't a very strong cultivator for all his technical skill is impeccable. I think this because I thought he was young grandparent age when he's the uncle!! It's too much stress! Major props.

He's also aromantic! We know that nothing will stop a lan in love, much to their detriment, but not only does lqr seem to regard the lot of them as idiots for finding the absolute worst choices ever but I feel if he'd also loved and lost it would have been... Relevant.

Jfm was gay, and his unrequited love was wcz. Alternate sexualities (and queerness as a whole) is one of those things that's still so dangerous in many countries, and I guess ancient fantasy China is one of them! Poor mxy. Anyway that plus arranged marriages plus jfm being an only child (to my knowledge) and needing heirs... Yeah I feel like that's one of those things that happens. It's common all throughout history, forcing people into het relationships for any number of reasons or risk social (or even physical) death. I could so easily trace how that would have affected him through the courtship, marriage, his parents, him genuinely trying to love yzy and maybe deep inside knowing it was doomed to fail, her intelligence picking up on that and trying to figure out how she was unworthy, her feeling hurt and disrespected, getting more and more paranoid and sensitive as it wears on, her being so close to the right answer but correcting her would expose him. Him just trying to settle for mutual respect and teamwork and her never getting what she needs to be fulfilled in life, what she was raised and trained all her life in preparation for. The way he's so unwilling to force his kids to do anything miserable and the way he's so quick to call off the engagement when all he's hearing is disinterest and incompatibility. I could make this a whole post on its own but I fully believe this man lived and died like so many other queer people have in the past - never being able to find out who he truly was, and that he wasn't broken for not being the way he needed to be. Wangxian have an easier time of it, but when there's stories like mxy? People keep their heads down. He raised jc the way he was raised, and he turned out fine. It wasn't their fault he was such a failure of a son.

To cheer things up, I firmly believe that wwx is bisexual af. Just because lwj is his soulmate doesn't mean he's not. Are you an mxtx protag if you're simply, straightforwardly gay? I think not.

Though I do wonder if jc being Banned From Women was 100% an entirely whoopsie daisy accident. Sometimes standards are supposed to be impossible... Now I think about it, the certainty lwj hated wwx, the total lack of any partner, the focus on jl, the constant frustration with wwx's flirting and incomprehension with jyl crushing on jzx... I think the women are the only straight ones in the family, cuz he's sounding the aroace bell! Good for him tbh!!! Break the cycle!!!!

Lsh is the child of either wrh, wc, jgs, or two perfectly lovely normal people who died in war/childbirth. He was 100% a village kid, so thank goodness they all stepped up. I feel like one of the wens would have told wwx his parentage either way, so if he hasn't told anyone else I can't imagine it's great.

Each sect is associated with an element. The wens of course were fire, the nie earth, the lan air, the jin water (koi/carp tower), and the jiang are lightning (given we assume yzy and the jiang territory are compatible (her husband is probably water lol oof)). Years of specialised clan training and select marriages have caused the clan members qi to take on movement (at minimum) matching the respective elements. This is based on the anime, where everyone has nice handy colour coded qi, but the twin jades have the prettiest cloud texture that perfectly matches their crest and wwx has an almost lightning spiky red with just enough smoulder to make he sure he's a fire type. This also!!! Matches their fighting styles, have you noticed?? Idk if they did it on purpose or not but it's so cool!!! Wwx and jc are constantly moving, redirection, bounce and flip around; lwj and lxc are very twirly, lots of attacks from above, lwj often lets his sword fly mid battle, and of course the music! And the nie are very... Brick wall lol. I'd say NHS is air? Maybe? Water?

This one's a bit silly, but I like to imagine csr and bsr are mother and daughter from a distant land where people use their surnames last (gasp) and it wasn't really important to bsr cuz secluded mountain but they did figure it was going to be a problem a touch late. 'oh but phoenix they have different spellings in Chinese' csr got asked 'oh so like the immortal?' panicked and changed it on the spot. Her husband's nicknames all use her 'surname', he's the only one who knows about the mix up.

Spinning in the air helps you change an attack or helps you float. Yes this is based entirely on the anime (donghua?) where even the most serious of characters (lwj) do three full rotations before landing a big attack midair. It might be so he has time to get his guqin out lmao.

Jc is left handed, I'm pretty sure that's anime canon at least. Any good swordsman (or dual sword whip wielder!) can do a little ambidexterousness tho.

Wwx can do decent guqin cuz he's the gentleman prodigy of the arts but he probably whittled a dozen dizi out of roadside bamboo on long journeys to entertain himself which is why chengching was such a fine tuned spiritual tool.

The jiangs were a great sect lead by good people in an ehhhh family. Individually they're all actually decent people but they bring out the worst in each other even as it keeps them all in check.

I firmly believe that yzy was holding back a LOT when made to whip wwx in front of the wen wench. That's a whole entire spiritual weapon and she was going at it wildly in a barely stable environment. Compare that to lwj who took the discipline whip not too many more times (if any) and was rendered bed bound if not house bound for years recovering (and grieving) and over a decade later is still a mass of scar tissue. And that was an orderly and structured punishment using materials designed to NOT kill the victim, not a whole entire LIGHTNING MURDER WEAPON. Wwx was back on his feet minutes later sword fighting, rowing, carrying jc on his back... Lwj is the more realistic result, real whips can be lethal, and very, very dangerous. They are excruciatingly painful and if you make a mistake they can easily flay skin and muscle to crack bone. You're not supposed to strike the same patch of skin twice. Yeah wwx and his stupid pain tolerance but I truly believe him and yzy were in full accord in that moment with the roles they had to play (and jc hated every second). She could at least have apologised... in the middle of heated battle for her home and life though....

Lwjs eyes are gold and sunset and stars' YES ALSO BUT I looked at them and my immediate reaction was 'that's a bird of prey'. They're LITERALLY falcon eyes, they're identical, and I've never once seen that comparison :(. He's already piercing/intense/pinning/scouring, (and his anime eyeliner and dark lashes look like the markings) he's so perfect for the metaphor. Make it that wwx is the rabbit prey, come on.

Why is wwx sun coded but moon aesthetic and lwj moon coded but sun aesthetic like how's that fair why does it always happen.

Stop blaming wwx for Suiban he admits he came up with a zillion good names and it was jfm who didn't pick any and named it as a joke. Ngl if that was my trusted person who went and did that I would have been gutted but hey wwx thrives. I do feel like jfm naming the sword that wwx sacrifices to save jc is grounds for some angst at the very least.

Lxc was definitely in some situation with the other two because he does read as a parallel to lwj. Their romantic lives are basically inversions of each other, you could hold a graph up to a mirror. It's just that lwj was so deeply lucky to get wwx back, and he fell in love with someone true to himself. Lxc just got used and left with the ashes, no matter how much true love was on either side. Wwx chose family, kindness and community with poverty and jgy chose greed and power and wealth for total isolation. It was NHS that inverted their fates, but either brother's love could only come at the cost of the other. Poor qiren...

All those fancy huge ribbons in everyone's hair (again it's the anime donghua) are special and ridiculously sturdy ribbons given by the parents they wear in varying styles to tie it all up and as they grow up so they don't trip on it. This is a silly headcanon but I love it cuz those ribbons are stupid long and literally everyone has it. Maybe it's the mdzs equivalent of the guan ceremony?

Wwx has for sure done cannibalism.

Ooh painful headcanon time - his parents died in yiling right? And all corpses get tossed into the mounds for centuries, right? Nonzero chance wwx's parents bodies broke his fall.

Lwj gets wwx a mule for a birthday/festival cuz those guys are basically the perfect mounts humans are ever going to get, they're just v rare and infertile. They're smart and brave as donkeys and fast and strong like the horse, resulting in an animal that is down for mounted parkour with the right training. And then lwj can ride a horse alongside wwx when they go travelling ^^. Idk I just think it'd be super cute.

Wwx only comes up with good names when he's doing real bad. Names when he's doing good: Suiban, li'l apple, rulan (after his bf). Names when he's doing bad: chengqing, yin iron tally/stygian tiger amulet, compass of evil.

[alicesadventuresinffxiv]

FFxivWrite2024 Prompt #27 (Make-up)

So you remember this scene from 5.2, where Elidibus uses a meteor shower illusion to give the Echo to a bunch of people at the Crystarium? And how the Scions are all there, but none of them awaken the Echo?

Imagine how heartbreaking it would be if one of them had.

Anyway, this little fic takes place shortly afterwards.

.

Title: Falling through memory, hand in hand

Wordcount: 1281

Spoilers through: Shadowbringers (5.2)

Alternate Universe: WoL!Fordola timeline

Relationships & Characters: Fordola/Lyse

Summary: After Elidibus’s starshower awakens Lyse to the Echo, Fordola starts behaving strangely around her.

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Ever since Elidibus had cast his illusion over the Crystarium, Fordola had been acting strangely. She’d seen those two newly ambitious adventurers off with a cagey wariness that hadn’t been wholly outside her norm, but once she and Lyse had returned to their room for the evening, she hadn’t been able to sit still.

Whenever Lyse found herself frowning quietly, eyes distant as she tried to make sense of the day’s troubling revelations, her reverie would be interrupted by her girlfriend. A gentle squeeze of her hand, a soft kiss on her hair… tiny, feather-light touches as though Fordola seemed to think Lyse might forget she was there. 

And when Lyse had playfully shooed her away, Fordola had disappeared and come back with a luxurious three-course dinner.

“The Exarch still owes me,” she’d said by way of explanation.

Now, Lyse certainly didn’t mind the attention and the (absolutely delicious, she’d have to thank G’raha sometime) food, but she couldn’t help but wonder what had put the idea in Fordola’s head.

Normally, the former soldier subsisted off of whatever quick food she could shove in her mouth before the next battle that inevitably demanded her attention. Lyse couldn’t blame her - she was much the same herself - but one of them would probably have to learn to cook at some point. 

Or at least remember to occasionally sit down. Leaning against Fordola and enjoying the fruits of the Crystarium’s innovations together like this… it was really nice, actually. It didn’t taste anything like Gyr Abanian recipes, but eating her fill while snuggling up to her love felt just like home.

Lyse could get used to this. She hoped dearly that she’d get the chance, one day.

“Want to hear how my day went?”

Lyse blinked and almost choked on her tea. “But… we’ve been together since this morning?” From waking up in their shared bed, to the journey to the Isle of Ken, to exploring the Ancients’ ruins deep under the sea, the two women hadn’t left each other's side.

Fordola bit her lip, then cast her eyes about the room. Looking anywhere but at Lyse. “Then… what about something from a while back? Never did tell you how I met Giott now, did I?”

That offer, more than anything before, sent alarm bells blaring through Lyse’s head. Though Fordola had grown far more relaxed and open in their months together, she simply wasn’t a chatterbox the way Lyse could be. When Fordola did feel pressed to talk, it usually meant there was something very wrong indeed.

“Is something the matter?” Lyse finished her last bite of coffee biscuit and sat back to stare critically at the “hero” who’d nearly become a Lightwarden and not seen fit to tell her. “You’ve been acting all… weird.”

Fordola shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong,” she said gruffly, and then proceeded to clean up the meal settings. While insistently pushing Lyse away when she tried to help.

“Can’t have you dropping a plate if you get a vision, can we?” 

“Honestly!” Lyse threw up her hands, about ready to punch something. Preferably Elidibus, given this was all his fault. “Is that what this is about? I’m perfectly fine, I’ll have you know!” Since the moment in the courtyard had passed, Lyse hadn’t noticed a single thing different about herself.

“I haven’t had any visions yet. For all we know, the voice I heard was an illusion t… nnngh.” A sudden wave of dizziness swept over her.

“Lyse - !”

Was this the same fatigue that had hit Thancred? But the pounding in her head, the ringing in her ears, the horrid sensation of being pulled… it just wouldn’t stop, until Lyse couldn’t keep her eyes open - 

This was the operating table in the Resonatorium. The harsh artificial light of its interior now stabbed into Fordola’s eyes, and every one of her nerves seemed to be rubbed raw and screaming while her skull seemed like to split in two - 

This was the Garlean transport that had taken them halfway to the Peaks as they’d fled. The cold metal bit into Fordola’s skin, or what she hoped was her skin, because it was taking all her focus to stay in the present and not panic and claw herself out of this body that no longer fit with her soul - 

This was the field hospital outside the Resistance camp, at least it sometimes was, in between the bouts of feverish delirium and the endless, endless visions, until Fordola couldn’t tell what wounds were her own or what thoughts were her own. There was only pain and hatred in every shape and every form as the soldiers around her bled and died, and she bled and died while - while - 

While there was a voice at her side, talking her through it all. Rambling cheerfully about some inane nonsense that had happened that day. The voice that was always there, Lyse was there, at her side which was her side… if she could hear the voice, that meant what was happening was real.

If she could hear the voice, then she would soon feel her hand being held. And the touch would draw her out and the vision would end. She would be safe. Everything would be okay. She just needed to listen to the voice -

Lyse gasped awake, her body still shivering with phantom pains and covered in sweat. Where - What - How - 

“...the helmets. Thought the bugger’d gone bloody daft on me! But it worked, that’s the real kicker. And I’d not made any progress cracking the bastard eater’s healing tricks neither, so we put our heads together and figured, well what’ve we got to lose, eh?”

As Lyse’s surroundings slowly came back into focus, the first thing she noticed was Fordola’s voice, recounting some bizarre story. Then the sight of Fordola herself, perched at the side of the bed and carefully clutching Lyse’s hand in both her own.

“...wasn’t hard to scrounge up a few of the rusty buckets, so then the next time…”

Which meant… Lyse was in bed now. She was still in their room in the Pendants, but her girlfriend must have carried her to the bed when she’d collapsed.

“Fordola…?”

“Ah, you’re back.” A wry, bitter smile. “I’d ask if you enjoyed the trip, but we both know there’s not much pleasant in my he- oh?”

Lyse surged out of the bed, her first priority being to wrap Fordola in her arms and shower her with kisses.

“Gods, I had no idea it was that bad for you…” she breathed in between pecks. “No wonder you were worried!”

“Hmph.” Even after all their time together, Fordola struggled to accept affection herself. Not that she could hide the fierce blush spreading over her cheeks. “Seems I’d naught to concern myself about after all!”

“No, it was plenty scary!” Lyse buried her head into Fordola’s shoulder. Maybe Fordola could feel her still-racing heart.

Another one of those small, melancholy smiles. “The first time always is. But it’ll get better.” Fordola wrapped her own arms around Lyse and stilled her by crushing her into a hug. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

Together.

That was the important thing. It didn’t matter what Elidibus’s schemes were, or what fate Hydaelyn had or hadn’t chosen for Lyse. She’d just have to muddle through it as best she could, regardless of whether or not she was good enough. 

That’s how it had been in Ala Mhigo, hadn’t it? Her and Fordola against the Empire despite everything being stacked against them and between them.

But if they’d kicked out the Garleans despite all that… well, they had to stand a chance against the remaining Ascians too.

[falseroar]

Murder on the Warfstache Express

Part 1: All Aboard, Full Steam Ahead

((So. That train story, right? Okay, but this is something I've been playing with the idea of writing ever since Wilford dropped that Murder on the Orient Express reference back in Wilford Motherlovin' Warfstache, and it really helped when AHWM and ISWM dropped and introduced us all to a wide cast of characters who don't all happen to look like Mark. Which is partially why this is a much different story than it would have been before ISWM. There's going to be a lot of familiar faces, some of them very out of place here, along with a couple of folks only referenced by name or as jokes. Also a murder, can't forget about that. Anyways, hope you enjoy it!))

Abe had never been a fan of confined spaces. Something about being caught with his back against the wall in one tight corner after another made it only natural to be on edge whenever he found himself confronted with a small room with only one way in or out.

A room very much like this train compartment he’d already lost track of time in, between the muted colors of the shoebox-like space that offered a seat just long enough to stretch out on and a window looking out at the unchanging landscape whiplashing by too quickly to really focus on anything in particular, and not much of anything else in the way of entertainment or stimulation. Abe had the riveting options of staring out at snow-covered hills and snow-covered trees and a dreary gray sky that promised, yes, even more snow that no one had asked for, or up at the jostling luggage rack overhead while he thought about the usual things.

Things like why the hell he was on this train in the first place.

He gave up on that pretty quickly and jumped up again, pacing the narrow space before deciding he really needed to stretch his legs. Besides, it couldn’t hurt to get a better idea of the layout of the train.

Just in case.

If he had noticed the conversation going on in low voices outside of his door, Abe would have stopped and held his ear to the door in the hope of hearing some of it. After all, he was a detective, which made eavesdropping practically his moral duty. That, and he was nosy as hell and bored to go with it.

If he had known a little more about the pair standing out in the hallway at the time, he would have loved nothing more than to have a regular door with which he could have “accidentally” hit one or both with as a possible alternative for some quick amusement.

Both options were only apparent in hindsight though, because in the moment Abe just turned toward the sliding door and opened it abruptly, startling the two men on the other side so badly they both jumped away from the opened door like it was a ticking timebomb.

One, the man with slicked-back black hair dressed in a suit that felt expensive to even look at, recovered first and gave Abe a withering look before remarking aloud as though addressing the air in general, “So much for this being luxury travel. It looks like they’ll let any low class, ill-mannered lout buy a ticket these days.”

Abe bristled, any apology he might have had instantly dying in response to that stuck-up, drawling voice. “And I thought you’d have something intelligent to say when you opened that pretty mouth of yours, so I guess we’ll all have to get used to being disappointed today.”

The rich man drew himself up, visibly swelling with indignation, but the other man cleared his throat and subtly moved between the two as he said, “Perhaps we could continue this conversation somewhere a little more private, sir?”

“Somewhere more private than the middle of the hall?” Abe asked. “Wow, wonder where you could find something like that around here.”

Choosing to ignore that comment, the second man slid open the door opposite Abe’s and stepped aside for the rich man with an, “After you, sir.”

The rich guy gave Abe one last sneer before going into the other compartment, which from the glimpse Abe got looked to be far more elegant and spacious than his own. The lackey added a disapproving stare of his own in Abe’s direction before sliding the door shut again with a sharp rap and promptly lowering the shade on the other side of the door’s round window.

Well, Abe could tell he was already off to a great start getting to know his fellow passengers. Although if the rest were anything like those two, he’d be better off staying in his own room for the rest of the trip.

A not very tempting thought, so instead Abe stepped out into the hallway and slid the door shut behind him, taking a moment to look both ways.

More rooms to either side, the doors slightly offset from their opposite so that any uncovered windows just looked out into the hallway and not directly into their neighbor’s room. To his right past a few more compartments was the door he used to step onto the train, and beyond that he’d caught a glimpse of the luggage car being filled by the station porters. Past the luggage car there was only the train’s engine, so nothing to see that way.

He turned left and paused not three steps away from his door, head unconsciously tilting while his brow furrowed in concentration. Over the rhythmic sound of the train’s wheels turning and the distant huff of the engine, Abe thought he heard something else.

Music?

It was faint at first, but the longer he listened the louder it seemed to get until the noise of the train died away, until the beat roared in his ears and drummed in his chest, the sound so tangible he was surprised the next door along and seeming source of the music wasn’t shaking in its casing. It was as much a mystery as why there was no complaint from the rich man next door, who had to be able to hear that noise through the connecting wall between the two rooms.

Abe slowed, staring at the covered window of the door like he could see through it if he tried hard enough. That thumping, upbeat music was familiar, familiar in a way that itched at the back of his mind and made his trigger finger twitch. Where had he heard this before?

Before he could make the connection, Abe heard the rattle of another door opening and quickly turned away from the offending door, eager not to be spotted staring into someone else’s room. A maneuver that put him directly in the path of the man stepping out of the room opposite, the two colliding so hard that the twin batches of swearing temporarily drowned out both the music and the train.

“…Sorry about that,” the new man muttered after a moment, rubbing his own shoulder. Fedora, oversized trench coat worn over a suit that looked a little too new, and a piercing stare that returned Abe’s once over with one of its own. If Abe wasn’t already suspicious enough, he’d felt something during that collision and was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the stranger being happy to see him.

There were only so many people who’d travel with a hidden weapon close to hand, after all.

A number that should have included Abe, except he had been forced to turn over his gun before boarding the train with the assurance that it would stay in a weapon safe during the duration of the trip. Flashing his badge hadn’t helped, the conductor no doubt calling his bluff because they were leaving his jurisdiction—or was it that they weren’t in it at the time?

Point was, if this guy had a gun on him, that meant he either found a way to sneak it onboard or he had the kind of authority to get a pass from the conductor.

All of this passed through Abe’s mind rapidly, but not fast enough that there weren’t several seconds of awkward silence before he asked, “In a hurry to get somewhere?”

“…No,” the other man said, proving he wasn’t much of a liar, at least. He stepped back into the still open doorway behind him and gestured for Abe to move on. “Please, you first. I’m sure your companion will be wondering where you’re at.”

Companion? Where’d he get that idea?

“No, I’m traveling alone. Same as you, I’m guessing?”

“Yes?” His eyes went past Abe to the room he’d just left, brow furrowing in confusion before he made a visible effort to relax it. “I mean, yes, it’s just me for now. Traveling for work.”

“Work? What kind of work is that?” Abe asked, trying to appear open and only as curious as a fellow traveler might be even as he glanced at the room behind the man, the quick glance enough to tell him that it was much smaller than his own (a fact he didn’t think possible until now), with no sign of any convenient personal belongings left out and about to give a hint as to their owner.

The man paused, clearly not having prepared for follow up questions, and finally said, “Oh, boring stuff. Like 99% of it’s just, you know, paperwork to make the home office happy. What about you, where are you headed?”

The question came quickly, Abe thinking less because the guy was interested and more because he didn’t want to leave an opening to ask what the other 1 percent was supposed to be.

“Oh just…to the next stop, same as everyone else on here I guess.”

The awkward silence lasted much longer this time, both men struggling to come up with any more small talk without the risk of having to answer their own questions. Abe broke it first with a clearing of his throat and said, “I, uh, was just going to get some fresh air. See you around, uh…”

“Apless,” the man answered immediately, showing the barest hint of a wince around the eyes before he continued, “Harold Apless.”

“My name’s Abe,” Abe answered, distracted by the realization that the previously overwhelming music seemed to have stopped at some point without his noticing it. “Nice to meet you, Happy.”

“My name’s not—”

The protest gave way to a defeated sigh behind Abe as he pulled open the car’s door and stopped in the small space between cars where the shaking and jolting was worse than ever. The enclosed space wasn’t made for people to stay here long, with doors to either side for boarding when the train wasn’t in motion providing enough gaps for the freezing cold outside to seep in. As different from that crowded room, too packed with dancers to even breathe, as he could get.

Dancers?

Abe winced and rubbed his eyes, dispelling that memory as quickly as he could. That’s why he was here, right? To get some distance between himself and…all of that.

Abe took a deep breath and exhaled, fogging up the glass of the nearby window, the welcome chill still enough to make him glad he hadn’t taken off his black leather jacket, and continued on through the next door and into what proved to be the lounge car.

Wooden paneling and low, flickering lamps set in intervals along the walls gave the lounge a warm, comfortable air, helped by plush armchairs seated in rows to either side around the windows and small, round tables. A thick, elegant carpet ran the length of the car and muffled the noise of the wheels underneath to the point it felt too quiet when Abe entered, not helped by how few people were seated or talking around the room.

A small bar area at the opposite end gave Abe something to aim for as he walked the length of the car, checking faces and counting heads out of habit.

Not that there were many to keep track of.

There was a woman dressed in bright, flamboyant colors underneath a white jacket, a bandana holding her long, wavy hair out of the way as she studied the mass of papers and books covering every inch of the table in front of her. From what he saw as he passed by, said papers and books all looked like a bunch of plans and equations so dense that his brain refused to take any of it in out of self-defense.

She on the other hand was so utterly focused that her lips moved along with thoughts that she couldn’t seem to keep contained within herself, occasionally sparing a hand from the coffee cup she held in front of her for lack of anywhere else to put it to push her glasses back in place or retrieve the pencil behind her ear to make another note in the same handwriting that littered all of the papers. For her, Abe and the rest of the train may as well not have existed for all it mattered in the moment.

The other two passengers he passed next did notice him, but were so engrossed in their conversation over a game of chess that the older woman wearing a black burnoose and dress littered with silver stars and matching jewelry could only spare him a friendly smile. Across from her, a man dressed in khaki with a brown leather jacket not all that dissimilar to the one Abe was wearing tilted the brim of his brown hat in the detective’s direction without looking away from the board, his hand still resting on the knight as he considered the consequences of his move.

“Well, you can tell me more about the monkeys or avoid losing your rook, but I’m afraid you can’t do both, dear.”

“Funnily enough, I’m pretty sure one of those monkeys stole my traveling chess set. That or my assistant on that little adventure still had it on him when we realized the simians weren’t quite ready to give up their piece of the map.”

“A real shame, that,” the woman said, shaking her head. “To shreds, you say?”

Abe had several questions, but he kept walking toward the bar with the confidence that a good drink would be less likely to leave him with regret in the long run.

 Or it would have, if he hadn’t reached the bar just as the bartender stopped what he was doing and looked up, his customer service smile disappearing with a flash of recognition.

He’d recognize that handsome face and look of distress and horror anywhere, especially since aside from the emblem of the train company on his lapel and a splash of dark red on his tie and handkerchief, his outfit really wasn’t all that different from the getup he wore back when he was Mark’s butler.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Abe asked and Benjamin shushed him with a glance at the other passengers.

“Language!” Benjamin hissed, his own voice lowered to just above a whisper. “Please do not disturb the other passengers.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, pal,” Abe said, obliging him with a low growl.

“I am not your pal,” Benjamin said, straightening his already ridiculously broad shoulders and trying to look prim and proper like Abe hadn’t seen him threaten a man with a feather duster once. “And I should think it’s rather obvious that I am working here. Would you like something to drink?”

“I think you and me already know the answer to that one,” Abe said, and Benjamin rolled his eyes before reaching under the bar for the strong stuff. “Now you’re talking.”

Abe sidled onto one of the stools, turned so that he could keep an eye on the butler turned bartender and the rest of the carriage.

“I had to make my way somehow after my last employer…” Benjamin paused, lip trembling, and with an effort he shook himself and poured Abe a healthy dose in a glass before pulling a second glass for himself. Pushing the glass toward Abe, he asked, “What brings you here, detective?”

Abe took the drink and took a long sip before setting it down with a sigh, because it was rude to leave a good drink waiting.

That, and he had to stall for an answer somehow, but the best he could come up with was to turn it around with another question as he asked, “Why do you think I’m here?”

Benjamin gulped down the contents of his glass, which admittedly was barely a splash of alcohol poured out before his conscience caught up with him, and swiftly put the glass out of sight before any of the others saw him drinking on the job.

“Still chasing leads then?”

Abe shrugged. “Maybe.”

Looking out over the rest of the lounge car in search of a change of subject, Abe suddenly said, “Not a lot of people here, huh? Guess they’re all hiding out in their rooms.”

“Mm, no, I think this is about half of the guests on this particular trip,” Benjamin answered, and it was his turn to shrug when Abe turned a disbelieving stare on him. “Look around, detective. This is hardly vacationing weather in country that I assure you is much more pleasant in the spring, and at this time of the year the only people crossing the country by train are those who have somewhere they need to be and no other way to get there.”

He gestured toward the back of the train behind him and continued, “There is so little interest that we only have the one passenger car for this leg of the journey. There is just the dining car behind this, and a mail car we are taking to the next station as a way to earn enough revenue to even justify running the train as scheduled. On the other hand, I believe the services we provide during the journey will more than make this a trip to remember for all of our esteemed passengers.”

“I’m not tipping you extra for that.”

Benjamin scowled and made a pretense of cleaning the other side of the already pristine surface of the bar to put some distance between him and the detective.

Fine by Abe, who removed himself from the bar stool and took a more comfortable seat in the corner of the car.

Somehow knowing that there were so few people on board made this trip feel more…not sad, although it was kind of sad in a pathetic sort of way. Gloomy, maybe, with the darkening sky outside and the white snow coming down sideways in the train’s wake? No, more than that. There was another word for the mood settling in around Abe’s shoulders.

“Perhaps loneliness,” Wilford suggested.

“More like ominous, like a premonition of things to come,” Abe answered before freezing in place, the narration that threatened to spill out of him hitting a hard pause on that thought, his eyes still on the dark windows where he could see the reflection of the man sitting opposite him, smile gleaming and eyes twinkling like he was waiting for the joke to sink in.

Abe held his breath and turned his head, as though expecting both man and reflection to disappear when he laid eyes on the real thing.

Instead, the colorful man in an extravagant yellow and pink confectionary of a suit crossed his legs and settled further back into his plush seat, looking around the train car with undisguised wonder. His drawling, unhinged voice stirred up the worst kind of memories in Abe as he said, “You sure do know how to travel in style, don’t you detective?”

Abe nearly spilled his drink reaching for a gun that wasn’t there, a thousand questions running through his mind although most of them could be summed up by the words that finally made their way out of his mouth after a bout of helpless sputtering:

“What the hell?!”

Wilford took a sip of hot chocolate from a vibrant pink mug and swished it around his mouth thoughtfully before answering. God, Abe hoped that was hot chocolate. Wilford hyped up on coffee was a nightmare waiting to happen, and he already felt like he was in a waking one of those.

“The suit’s a bit much, isn’t it? But unlike you, I happen to enjoy dressing to the occasion. That, and apparently trousers are ‘mandatory’ around these parts, for some reason.”

Of all the feelings Abe expected when he laid eyes on Wilford Warfstache again, “relief” wasn’t one of them, but then he’d also never considered the apparently non-zero chance of running into his greatest enemy pantsless either.

“Aw, you think I’m the greatest?” Wilford said, his brown eyes crinkling with a smile.

“My greatest enemy, and don’t do that,” Abe answered, and if anything, Wilford’s smile just grew wider. “It’s not a compliment! How did you even get here?!”

Abe realized it was a ridiculous question as soon as he asked it, but Wilford seriously considered it before shrugging.

“Same as you, I suppose. Say, where’s this train going, anyways?”

“Why would you get on a train without knowing where you’re going?” Abe asked.

Another shrug. “Something, something, ‘life is about the journey, not the destination,’ or whatever it is people put on the postcards. What do you think they do for fun around here?”

Wilford turned around in his chair again to look over his shoulder at the other passengers, the silence except for the background noise of the train positively deafening.

“Huh. Not much, by the look of things. Bet we can do something to liven things up around here, what do you say, you old—”

Wilford’s words stopped short on his lips when he turned back around and found the detective inches away, a finger dangerously close to his nose as Abe spoke in a low growl.

“You’re not doing a thing on this trip, Colonel. The second we get off, I’m going to put you down.” Abe paused, aware something hadn’t come out right there. “I mean, the next stop this train makes, you’re under arrest.”

“Huh, I think you’re the only one who still calls me that,” Wilford said, unbothered by the threat.

“In fact,” Abe continued, too angry to be deterred by Wilford’s calm, “You’re already under arrest, and if I catch even a whiff of you trying to escape or laying even a finger on anyone else on this train, I’ll…”

He let the threat hang in the air unspoken, mostly because he couldn’t think of a way to finish it. His gun was locked away, and he couldn’t be sure the same could be said for Wilford, not if that Happy guy was able to keep his own weapon. That, and he knew all too well what Wilford could be capable of when the mood took him.

Wilford looked down at Abe’s finger still pointing in his face and gave it a little kiss before saying, “Whatever you say, detective. I’ll be on my best behavior, promise.”

“…Why do I feel like that’s not a very high bar?”

Wilford winked and toasted Abe with his mug of hot chocolate before taking a sip. The gesture revealed the black block letters printed on the side of the mug to Abe for the first time: SPOILER ALERT!

((End of Part 1. Hope you enjoyed it! I'm going to try to space each part by a couple of days or so, just because they're all on the longer side. For the record, no, that's not Actor Mark, but he is a Mark ego. Sort of. You'll see. Genuinely curious how many people know/remember Harold Apless. As far as I know he was only ever referenced on the ISWM website, and we only got a Noirverse photo of him. Haven't fully committed to who I imagine as "playing" him, maybe Sean? But judging by the shows' history that means he would actually end up being played by MatPat, so...

Link to Part 2: An Easy Offer to Refuse.

Also a confession about the tag list: it's, uh, been so long since I've written anything I'm not sure if this is the most up-to-date version at all. I also ended up removing a lot of urls that no longer connected to a blog, so I may have accidentally deleted a few valid ones. If you'd like to be added or removed, please just let me know in a comment.

Said hopefully not too out of date taglist: @silver-owl413 @asteriuszenith @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @95fangirl @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-star-eyes @shyinspiredartist @avispate @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy @liafoxyfox @hidinginmybochard

))