#MWDFContest

[mindfulwrath]

Stick ‘Em Up

The final prize fic for the MWDF works contest! For @southlovesowls, who requested "your take on what a heist would look like with the deputies (Geoff, jack, Jeremy, Ryan, ray) when they were outlaws."

Words: 3,509 Warnings: Casual misogyny, violence, blood & gore, alcoholism

It began, as it so often did, with a train.

"Anythin'?" Geoff asked, laid out on his belly on a rocky scarp.

"Not a puff," said Jack, squinting through her cracked spyglass. "Maybe they hit a real rockslide or somethin'."

"Or they're just late."

"Or they're just late. I'll holler if I see anythin'."

Geoff clapped her on the shoulder and shimmied back from the ledge. He dusted himself off, resettled his hat on his head, and made his way back to the wagon. It was looking more busted up than usual, long overdue for some maintenance. The horses were all hitched up a few yards away, munching saplings and farting. As Geoff approached, Gavin heaved himself up from under the wagon and trotted out to meet him.

"Hey pal," said Geoff, taking a knee to scratch him behind the ears. "You ain't comin' with us, li'l buddy."

"Yeah, I didn't so much figure I would be."

Geoff looked up. Dooley was hovering by the horses, looking awfully disappointed.

"I was talkin' to the dog," Geoff said.

"Oh," said Dooley, his cheeks reddening. "Yeah, I—I knew that."

"'Course you did."

"I did! I was—answerin' for the dog."

"Sure you were." Geoff stood up again and nudged Gavin with his foot. "Mosey on, Gavvy. Where's Ray and Ryan?"

"Two guesses," Dooley said sourly, cocking his head at the wagon.

"Can't say as I'm surprised," Geoff grumbled. "Good damn thing the train's late, or else we'd miss it. Those horses all saddled up and ready to go?"

"Yessir. Went ahead and watered 'em, too, since it's gettin' hot already."

"Good thinkin'. If it's too much longer, you might wanna walk 'em around a li'l, make sure they don't get stiff."

"Will do, Boss. Uh—you think it's gonna be too much longer?"

"Hell if I know. All the shit that's been goin' wrong lately, wouldn't surprise me if the damn train didn't show up at all."

"Train's always late."

Geoff jumped about a foot in the air and whipped around. Ray was standing right behind him, his poncho hanging crooked over his double bandoleers, a permanently sardonic expression affixed to his face.

"Jesus, Ray!" Geoff cried. "How long you been there?"

Ray shrugged. "Couple minutes," he said. "Train's always late, don't know why you're gettin' all chicken-shit about it."

"Go fuck yourself, pal," Geoff said, rolling his eyes.

"Shit, right now? All right, Mr. Boss-man sir, but it's gonna take me a couple minutes to get it up again. Hope that train's real late or else I'll be shootin' with three guns."

"Harr-harr, ain't you a goddamn riot."

"We got smoke," Jack called from the scarp.

"Awright, time to go," said Geoff. "Jack, come on back, our li'l rockslide ain't gonna hold 'em up for long!"

"Comin'!"

"Guess I better go fuck myself real quick," said Ray. He ambled off to the horses, where Dooley was making final preparations, and was joined shortly by Jack.

"Jackass," Geoff muttered. "Ryan, where the hell you at?"

Ryan popped out the back of the wagon, pulling his hair back. He flashed a grin at Geoff as he stepped down.

"He was behind you 'bout thirty seconds, at most," he said, heading for the horses, too. "If you were wonderin'."

Geoff caught his arm. Ryan hung back, expectant. There was a fresh set of bruises blooming on his neck.

"Hey, you gonna be all right?" Geoff asked, keeping his voice down.

Frowning, Ryan said, "Sure thing. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well—I don't know, just I figured you mighta been a li'l shook up after last time, that's all."

"Ain't nothin' bad happen to me. Ain't nothin' to be shook up about."

"You sure? 'Cuz I don't want you freezin' up in the middle, or God forbid, anythin' worse happenin' to you."

"I won't freeze up and won't nothin' bad happen to me," Ryan promised, patting his hand. "And even if it does, I got the ol' Kentucky Ram hisself lookin' out for me."

Geoff smoothed his mustache. "Don't get to countin' on me, now."

"No, suh, wouldn't dream of it," said Ryan. He slipped out of Geoff's grip and started off after Ray, tossing a left-handed salute over his shoulder before breaking into a jog.

Shaking his head, Geoff let out a sigh.

"Damn fool's got ten times more luck than sense," he said to himself.

"Hey, uh, Boss Ramsey?"

He turned. Dooley was back, hat in hand.

"Oh, right. Uh—stay here, make sure the wagon don't go nowhere. And keep an eye on Gavin. And the other horses. And if we get caught—"

"Come and get y'all?"

Geoff blinked, pursed his lips, and inclined his head.

"Uh, yeah," he said, rerouting from the threat he'd been about to make. "Yeah, you come and get us, if we get caught. Just don't spend too much money doin' it. And don't let Gavin get ran over or nothin', neither."

"Yessir. I'll keep an eye out."

"Two eyes, Dooley."

"Yessir."

"Good. Now go make sure nobody's gonna see that wagon."

He snapped out a salute and scurried off. Geoff joined the others. Once he'd mounted up, he pulled his bandanna over his mouth and nose.

"Awright, boys," he said. "Let's go rob us a train."

Jack shoved her way into the first-class car, her gun pressed up under the conductor's jaw. Ray whisked in behind her, drawing both revolvers before anybody could get up. Geoff came after him, and Ryan brought up the rear.

"Afternoon, folks," Geoff said to the sea of waxen faces. "I'll be conductin' y'all's holdup today. Now if everybody stays calm and quiet, won't nobody have to get hurt, and y'all can go on y'all's way not much the worse for wear."

"This is outrageous," a woman spat. She was dressed like a peacock, only ten times as frumpy. "Where is the security on this—"

"Nice hat, bitch," said Ray, and shot it off.

She screamed and dove for cover under the seats. The car erupted in a clamor of gasps and shouts. The conductor wriggled in Jack's grasp, and she dealt him a ringing smack with the butt of the gun, not quite enough to knock him out. Geoff clenched his fists and breathed deep. The longer this took, the worse it would wind up. There was bound to be security somewhere on the train, U. S. Marshals or Union Pacific's own hired goons, and they'd figure out pretty quick that the Western Union car wasn't the one being hit.

Especially if there was any more gunfire.

"And let that be a lesson to y'all!" he called out, raising his voice to be heard over the clamor. "Next dumbass who talks outta turn is gonna get shot! Now my associate here—" He tipped his head at Ryan— "is gonna come down the aisle, and y'all are gonna hand over any valuables you got to hand, and then we'll be on our way."

"Everybody get up, c'mon, get off those doughy asses," said Ray, gesturing with his guns. Ryan took out the first burlap sack and offered it to the first seat on the left—an elderly couple, the man nervously wiping his glasses and the woman clutching her pearls.

"We'd be ever so much obliged if y'all could donate t' our cause," he said, sweet as a peach. "We won't take nothin' essential, such as your spectacles, suh—but ma'am, I think you will most likely survive without that necklace. C'mon, now, divest yourselves of your worldly wealth."

With trembling hands, they complied. Ray paced up and down the aisle like a coyote trapped between two fences. Geoff watched the passengers as they took off their watches and jewelry, keen for any hint of a weapon.

"Thank you kindly," Ryan said to the elderly couple. "Just think of it this way: the Bible says it's well nigh impossible for a rich man to get into Heaven. We're doin' y'all's immortal souls a favor. Have a blessed day, now."

He moved on, keeping up a running litany of platitudes in that soothing voice. The bag filled steadily. The conductor fidgeted. Jack kneed him in the leg, warning.

"Boss, they're startin' to get suspicious," she said, with her eyes on something out the window. "We better keep this short."

"Kid!" Geoff snapped. "Quit proselytizin' and get the damn money!"

"Oh, yessuh, so sorry, suh," Ryan effused. He rounded on the next pair like a rabid dog, snarling, "Put the fuckin' money in the bag!"

The two young women yelped and shoved their valuables into the bag. Ryan tipped his hat to them, grinning under his bandanna, before moving on.

The car filled with a low murmur, frightened glances tossed back and forth across the aisle. Geoff drummed his fingers on the butt of his revolver, watching, waiting, praying. A bead of sweat crawled down his back. He caught Ray's eye as he paced up the aisle and flicked a glance out the window. Ray followed his gaze, and his face hardened.

Vagabond's gonna get y'all.

Geoff's blood ran cold. The voice had come from nowhere, low and vicious and hateful, like a diamondback creeping underfoot—

"Who the fuck said that?" Ray snarled, whipping around with both revolvers. The whole car ducked, amidst muffled screams and cursing—all except one man, tall as a pine tree with a mustache like an oil slick and eyes like steel.

"I did," he said—or more squeaked, because both Ray's guns were pointing at him now.

"You wanna say it again to my fuckin' face?" Ray asked, walking up to him.

The man gulped. Towards the back of the car, Ryan tied up the burlap sack and hung it on his belt. Instead of starting to fill the other one, though, he eased out his gun.

"Naw, c'mon, say it again," said Ray. "Make my fuckin' day, you beanpole-lookin' ass bitch. Say it so's everybody can hear you."

With a great mustering of grit, the man said, "The Vagabond is gonna get y'all."

"Theeee Vagabond!" Ray hollered, and laughed. "Dumbass. You think the fuckin' tooth fairy's gonna show up, too?"

"Maybe not today," said the man. "Maybe not tomorrow. But y'all's day is comin'."

"How 'bout in the next ten seconds?" Ray asked.

"Don't you do it," Geoff hissed. Ryan was watching, quiet and curious. His finger was on the trigger of his gun, ready to pull. The goons down by the Western Union car had gathered together and were making eyes in their direction.

"Six," Ray said. "Five. Four. Three. Where's he at, hombre? Two. One and a half! Vagabond, hey, you dumb bitch, come get me!"

"Don't you do it, Ray!"

"One. Zero. Sorry, hombre, looks like he ain't comin'."

BANG. BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG.

The man's body jiggled like a pudding before collapsing in a puddle of blood. There were more screams. Ray blew the smoke off his revolver, popped it open and tipped the casings out.

"Anybody else got somethin' stupid to say?" he asked, reloading. "'Cuz I got a whole 'nother gun and a shitload more bullets."

Nobody said a goddamn word.

"Fine. Hand over all the fuckin' money and jewelry you got, and I prob'ly won't shoot nobody else."

"Fuck!" Jack spat. She shoved the conductor to the ground, kicked open the car's door, and took a potshot down the train. Somebody shot back. "Boss, we gotta go, now!"

Geoff grabbed her by the arms and hauled her into the aisle. Ray leapt up into the dead man's seat and shot out the window.

"Go, go!" Geoff said, pushing Jack down the aisle. He whipped out his gun and set his back against hers, keeping an eye on the passengers. "Well folks, it's been real fun, but we gotta be headin' on now! Thanks much for y'all's generosity, and have a good trip!"

Ray emptied his revolver and swapped out for the other one. A bullet smashed through the window in front of him, spraying glass. He flinched, cursed, and shot back.

"Get the kid out," Geoff said to Jack. "Ray! C'mon, we're leavin'!"

"I'm comin'!" Ray snapped. He reloaded one revolver one-handed from his bandoleer while he kept shooting with the other one.

"Don't wait for us, just go," Jack said to Ryan. "They're gonna shoot, but you just ride."

She ushered him out the door, pausing only to yank the purse out of a man's hand on her way out. Geoff backed towards the door, one eye on Ray and one on the passengers.

"Ray!"

He leapt down and dashed for the door. Geoff bolted for the horses. Jack was already mounted up. Ryan's horse was kicking up a fuss, dancing and tossing its head. Geoff snagged its reins and it nearly yanked him off his feet.

"Shit, fuck, goddammit—"

A gunshot snapped out behind them. Geoff whipped around. Ray was backing out of the train car, reloading again. A window exploded. Ray shot back before the glass even hit the ground.

"Put him on my horse!" he yelled over his shoulder.

"You don't—"

Ray fired off another couple shots before sprinting to them. He grabbed Ryan around the waist and threw him up onto his own horse. Ryan scrambled to get situated. Ray jumped up after him and sat down backwards. He popped off another volley towards the train cars.

A pair of hulking enforcers clambered out from between the cars farther down the line. Geoff dashed to his horse, firing from the hip. They ducked back, but as soon as he stopped shooting, they popped out again. Geoff leapt into the saddle and wheeled his horse around.

"Let's go, move, move!"

They lit out like bats out of hell. Bullets whizzed by, muzzle flashes lit up the clouds of dust behind them. Ray dropped to one gun, keeping his elbow locked through Ryan's to stay on the horse. A bullet smacked into Jack's horse and it screamed, tumbling into the dust. Ray tried to jump off after her. Ryan didn't let him.

"Sonnuva—"

"I got her!" Geoff shouted, doubling back. "Y'all go, I got her!"

She was on her feet and shooting by the time he got there. He heaved her up onto his horse. One of the goons had grabbed Ryan's abandoned horse and was riding after them, hellbent.

"Take us under the scarp, I got an idea," Jack said. Geoff kicked his horse and shouted. Ryan and Ray started up the switchback trail up to their encampment. A bullet whizzed past his ear.

"Come on, Blue, come on!" he said, leaning down over the horse's neck. Jack shot back at their pursuer, missing every shot. "Is he gainin'?"

"Of course he's gainin', just keep goin'!"

"Where the hell—"

"Just keep goin'!"

The horse's flanks heaved. Foam flecked its mouth. Dust covered everything. Geoff's ears rang with gunfire. He glanced back over his shoulder. The goon was bearing down on them, gun drawn, teeth bared—

CRACK.

He toppled sideways out of the saddle, bounced, rolled, and did not get up.

"Yeehaw!" Jack cried, punching the air. "Atta boy! C'mon, Geoff, let's get that dumbass horse back."

Geoff reigned in. Jack hopped down. While she hurried back to catch Ryan's horse, Geoff shaded his eyes and looked up to the ridge.

A familiar, poncho-clad silhouette raised a carbine rifle in salute.

Geoff flipped it off.

"Awright, Ray," said Geoff, dropping himself down next to the campfire. "What in the goddamn hell is wrong with you?"

Ray looked up from his dinner. The sun had set, and they'd thrown together a little camp about fifteen miles from the railroad. Firelight danced off of slender pines, and the glittering haul from the robbery. The smell of cooked meat and pine straw filled the air. Dooley was off tending to the horses, and Jack was walking Gavin around to keep him from getting into the food. Ryan had settled in a ways off, absorbed in his whittling.

"What?" said Ray.

"You know what. Back at the train."

"Thought I was savin' y'all's lives. You're welcome."

"It wouldn't've been needed if you hadn't started shootin'!"

Ray shrugged. "Sometimes a bitch needs killin'."

"No, he didn't. And you ain't have to go out on that whole damn monologue, neither."

"Oh, all right, yeah, so that's what you're all fucked up about," said Ray, rolling his eyes. "Grow a pair, Ramsey."

"Maybe on the day you grow some common goddamn sense, you trigger-happy fuck! Maybe on the day you learn to keep your fuckin' mouth shut!"

"Suck my dick, you don't pay me enough to keep quiet. You know what you do pay me for? To shoot folks. Sorry for doin' my fuckin' job, I guess."

Gavin came trotting up from the darkness, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. He climbed into Geoff's lap and tried to lick his face. Geoff shoved him off.

"Get the fuck outta here," he snapped, before returning to Ray. "It ain't your job to shoot first. It is your job to shoot second, once they're already shootin' at us. It sure as hell ain't your job to go engagin' in dumbass stunts like the one you pulled in there!"

"Fine, fuck you, whatever. Next time I'll let the motherfuckers ride your bitch ass down, how'd you like that?"

"Ray," Geoff growled.

"C'mon, now, Boss, ain't no call to get worked up about it," Ryan said. His eyes were on his hands, his voice casual. "Even if the Vagabond's real, it ain't like he was there to hear it."

"I don't got a problem with Ray disrespectin' the Vagabond, Ryan, I got a problem with him fillin' folks with lead just for openin' their damn mouths!"

"Oh, sure," said Ryan. "S'pose that's the reason you been lookin' over your shoulder all evenin', too."

"Marshals," said Geoff, heat rising to his cheeks. "Could be the Marshals are gonna come after us."

"Geoff, it's all right," Jack said, coming up and settling down by the fire. "Ryan's right, there ain't no call to get worked up about it. Gavin and I been all over hell and gone, and there's nobody out here but us. We got our cash, we got away, we're all in one piece—that's a good day!"

Geoff wiggled his mustache. He folded his arms and heaved a sigh.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Good job, everybody. We'll head on for Osceola in the mornin', see if we can't get this shit pawned off. How much we got in cash, meantime?"

"'Bout twenty bucks," said Ray. He tossed the remainder of his cooked rabbit to Gavin, who snapped it up in a heartbeat.

"Ain't great, but it'll hold us for a while," said Jack. "We'll prob'ly get twice that from the jewelry."

"Might almost cover the cost of ammo," Geoff muttered. "Gonna need another horse, too."

Ray got up, licking his fingers. He went over to Ryan and pulled on his hair.

"Hey," he said.

"Hm?" said Ryan, looking up at him.

"C'mon, I need some goddamn unwindin'."

Ryan smiled and put his knife away. "Sure thing, honey."

With another, rougher pull on Ryan's hair, Ray stalked away into the woods. Ryan blew the wood chips off his whittling, stuck it in his pocket, and followed.

With the two of them gone, quiet descended. Gavin slunk over again and sniffed around Geoff's face, looking for more rabbit. Geoff scratched him behind the ears absently.

"You all right, Geoff?" Jack asked.

"I don't know," Geoff sighed. "I don't know. I'm startin' to wonder if maybe...."

"Maybe what?"

He shook his head. Gavin climbed up into his lap and sat down, despite the fact that he was two sizes too big for it. He licked Geoff's ear, tail thumping hopefully.

"Maybe it oughtta have stayed just us," Geoff said.

"What, and set those funny fuckers loose on the world?" said Jack. "Hell naw. We'll temper 'em down in time, just needs a li'l more workin'. Ryan's already got Ray about half as hot as he used to be."

"Yeah, I guess."

Another, longer silence, filled with the crackling of the fire and the distant snorting and nickering of the horses as Dooley brushed them down. The exhaustion was catching up with Geoff, laying heavy on his shoulders, grim and foggy in his head. His heart had not yet stopped racing. His ears had not yet stopped ringing.

It was either going to be a sleepless night, or a drunken one.

"It's all right to be scared," Jack said softly. "You got every reason."

"It ain't that I'm scared, Jack. It's that there ain't a damn thing I can do about it. So long as we're outlaws, it's ... always gonna be there. He is always gonna be there. Waitin'. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but ... someday."

"Well," Jack said slowly. "What if we wasn't outlaws?"

Geoff blinked. He tugged on Gavin's ear. He sat forward and fixed her with a look.

"I'm listenin'," he said.

[alintheprocess]

Part 1

I immediately related to suicidal Ryan, a fight between love and death

Poem I wrote based on Wrath’s MWDF

[silmist]

The Devil in Her Clocktower

“I put away the horn-and-tail look a few centuries ago. It felt a little... overdone”

@mindfulwrath​ >:3c

[michaels-been-a-bad-boy]

I said I’d paint the damn scene and I’m fucking doing it. Learning physical paints is hard 🙃

[countthelions]

Employ the Devil (wip?)

MWDF inspired fic

warnings: fic typical violence eventually

notes: I started writing this for the contest, but then tech week came and I lost the thread of the story, so here’s a gift for @mindfulwrath​

"Hold it right there." A voice demanded, his horse halting without second thought as to who was giving the order. Ryan tilted his head just enough to peer out from the brim of his hat, brows raised in bemusement at being stopped. There was mail to be delivered after all. The gun reached his sight first, a shakily held shotgun with a mean glint on its end from the bright sun.  He smiled wide, nodding in greeting towards the man behind the weapon.  

"Howdy, suh." The lack of fear in his voice made the man's shoulders jump. From lack of response, Ryan leaned sideways in his seat to look at the man, blue eyes bright in stark shadow thrown from his hat. "What can I do for you."  Though the words suggested an answer should be given, it was not phrased as a question. It was polite, like the start of a healthy conversation between two gentleman at the bar rather than at the beginning of a robbery. The bandits's face contoured into a sneer, hefting his gun up higher. 

The bullet traveled through Ryan's lung, sending him off his horse with the momentum. A flood of copper filled his mouth as the bright sky shattered into pieces, his head smacking the soil. There was a breath of silence, both people listening to the shot echo off in the distance. Then delirious laughter rose, stunted in volume and rhythm at first but growing as the surprise wore off. Thoroughly spooked by the sound of the gun and the loss of his handler, the horse skittered away to reveal the bandit standing wide and rigid. The panic of his eyes were lost in the bright of the sun. He looked like a silhouette of a mistake, back-lit by the sun from Ryan's angle on the ground.

"You shot me!" He spat out through the laughter, words proud. "I didn' think you had it in you!" He was still twitching in pain, tremors shooting through his hands as the lung that was punctured protested with loud alarms. Twisting on the ground, Ryan shoved an arm underneath himself, squinting around to find his lost hat. 

"h-Hey!" The man shouted. "H-ey now stay right there a'ight?" He leveled the gun again but the shake was too strong to get a clean shot. A shot buried itself in the ground next to Ryan's head, and his forehead hit the dirt as he laughed louder. 

[lcecreme]

a short playlist that i’ve been adding to the past few months, figured i’d fix it up into something nicer

Dark Was The Night,   Cold Was The Ground

a Murder with the Devil and Friends fanmix

House Of The Rising Sun, The Animals 

Trouble, Cage the Elephant

Fast 11 11, SK3L3TONS

Good Times, Matt Duncan

Dark Red, Steve Lacy

Le Temps de l’Amour, Francoise Hardy

Shut Up Kiss Me, Angel Olsen

Your Version of Me, Steady Holiday

A Bad Dream, Keane

Whole, girlyboi

Unfucktheworld, Angel Olsen

⇒  L I S T E N  H E R E  O N  S P O T I F Y

(and a bonus, the inspiration for the title! it doesnt fit the rest of the fanmix but it very accuratley describes the story as a whole)

many many thanks to @mindfulwrath for creating this universe and these characters that ive fallen in love with!!

[inventorpaige]

Here’s my completed product for @mindfulwrath ‘s fanworks contest! I worked for like two days straight, and its maybe a little rougher than I hoped, but I’m really happy with how a lot of them turned out!

TW: Hand trauma, blood, guns, fistfights, violence against women

[stuff-with-ceylar]

My entry for the MWDF Contest! This is based around the scene where Ryan drugs Michael and he starts hallucinating, cause dear lord that was some epic imagery in that scene!

I would have liked to do more with this, like add in some lightning and other cool stuff, but I think Photoshop was ready to give up on me - this became quite a sizeable file... 

I drew this with a lot of help from many different references, and the flames, smoke and planks are stock images from the internet.

Small surprise under the cut!

Here’s the lineart for anyone who wants to try colouring this in - I finally located the stabiliser in Photoshop and that means we have the first lineart that I’m really super proud of - so go ahead and colour my lovelies!

And I’d love to see what people do with the lineart, so feel free to tag me in anything you draw (and if you don’t tag could you credit me, thank you!!!)

[indridspook]

Some mwdf!ryan bc I mean,,, he’s way too fun to draw. Sorry my handwriting sucks (“The devil’s in the details, chéri” and “Y’cant go to hell if you’re already there, y’know”) I’ve been listening to the mwdf playlist by @mindfulwrath like a madman its so good

[mindfulwrath]

The first couple MWDF Contest participation prizes! For @countthelions who asked for “a badass Jack” (she wrassled a bear) and @madkingvagabnd who asked for a dog! (I am not talented and therefore chose not to attempt a Ryan with him)

[mindfulwrath]

Murder with the Devil and Friends: Fanworks Contest

“You saw an artist,” Ryan said softly, “and you made a request.”

After gauging interest, I’ve determined that several of you would be interested in having some sort of MWDF fanworks contest—so here it is! I’ve already been blown away by the response to this story, and I’d love the opportunity to 1. give some back to all you wonderful people, and 2. get everybody appreciating each other’s works more!

Here’s some rules:

1. This is not just an art contest. All fanworks are welcome! Fics, music, poetry, podfic—anything goes! As long as it was inspired by MWDF, it’s good to go.

2. You don’t have to be following me to enter.

3. Prizes will be shipped, so you have to be okay with giving me your address so I can send them to you. I can ship anywhere in the world, so don’t be pressed over location!

4. Support each other! This contest is primarily a way to share and appreciate hard work with like-minded people—the prizes are just bonus! So spread the love, get to know your fellows, and have fun!

5. Tag all entries with #MWDFContest. This is how I will track entries. If it’s not tagged, I won’t see it! D: I will try to leave a Like on all entries to show that I have seen them. Feel free to send me a message with a link to your entry, as well!

- PRIZES -

All entries will receive a secret participation prize!

1st Place: Gavin Plushie and ficlet request (~1500 words, AH-themed)

2nd Place: Deputy Sheriff’s badge and ficlet request (~1500 words, AH-themed)

3rd Place: Ficlet request (~3000 words, AH-themed)

I will write Just About Anything for ficlets, but I reserve the right to veto anything that squicks me out too much. Just be willing to negotiate!

CONTEST ENDS 11:59 PM (Central Time) ON MARCH 24, 2018

Good luck, godspeed, and be excellent to each other!

[mindfulwrath]

MWDF Contest: End!

Thank you to everybody who entered the contest! Winners will be chosen at some point on April 1, as soon as I’ve agonized over it enough :P

But seriously, it’s been wonderful seeing all the fantastic art, poetry, playlists, animatics, and gifsets! I’ll be contacting everyone about your Super Secret Participation Prizes throughout this coming week~

[mindfulwrath]

Hey! I've actually been following the MWDF contest pretty closely, and I was wondering when results would be out for who wins? If you don't have a set date, that's fine, just curious!

I plan on releasing the results this Sunday!

(Yes, I know it’s April Fool’s, but I promise the results will be legit)

[mindfulwrath]

Remote Sensation

MWDF Contest prize for @inventorbenny, who requested “a day in the life of Dan and Gav, the technicians of an oil-mining satellite.” Enjoy!

Words: 1,521 Warnings: None, but it made me sad so Watch Out

At 0500, the alarm goes off. Dan slaps at the clock and groans. Regardless of routine, it never gets any less shitty. He rolls out of bed and drifts through his morning routine half-awake—dress, brush teeth, comb hair, wash face, make bed, grab badge and dosimeter, make morning log entry.

Daniel Gruchy, Day 655, still not dead or mad.

By 0530, he's sitting down to breakfast and coffee downstairs. The comms screen chirps, exactly on time, and Dan slaps that, too. Gav appears on it, yawning.

"Morning, B," he says, crackly with static.

"Morning," says Dan. "How's the weather up there?"

"It's a lovely day today," says Gav. "Chilly on the night side, but warmer on the sunny side, partly space with a chance of space."

Dan snorts. "And how's my weather looking?"

"No flares, plasma events, or comets, and still no atmosphere, so it's sunny and cold as always."

"Brilliant. How's the Drill?"

"Looking good. We've got a bit of grit or something in the percussion sleeve, it's causing a friction anomaly. Otherwise, it's all routine. Pumps are pumping, pipes are piping, tanks are tanking—or, hang on, tanks—what?"

"Tanks are tanking, yeah, that checks out," says Dan, smirking into his reconstituted eggs. "Have you got telemetry on the resupply yet?"

"Not just yet, but we ought to pick it up round lunchtime. Shall I let you know when we ping it?"

"Nah, just catch me up at lunchtime. Don't want you going oy oy in my ear whilst I'm elbow-deep in brine and oil."

"That's sensible. Speaking of resupply, how're yours holding up? By the numbers you've got plenty to last, but if any of it's gone manky, we might have to work on a ration plan."

"Looked fine when I pulled all this out. The coffee's gone a bit off, but it's not mold. Plastic seepage, I think."

"That's not good. Those're carcinogens you're imbibing."

"Worth it for the caffeine, and anyways, if anything's going to give me cancer, it'll be the radiation. Damn space, always irradiating me."

"It'd be preferable if nothing gave you cancer at all."

"In a perfect world," Dan sighs.

"Are you feeling all right? Should I move up your next medical evaluation?"

"No, God no, move it back, if possible."

"I really can't. Regulations and all that."

"A man can dream. How are things up there, speaking of radiation?"

"Orbital module is ship-shape. We're clean, stable, and prepared to adjust attitude for the resupply, once we've got telemetry."

"Wish I could adjust your attitude, wa-hey."

Gav pouts at him. Dan rolls his eyes.

"Come on, that was a good one."

"I don't appreciate it."

"Buzzkill. Have you checked my ascent vehicle?"

"Not yet, since we don't have telemetry for the resupply yet. Shall I?"

"While we've got the time."

There's the briefest pause. Gav frowns prettily, concentrating, then brightens.

"Ascent vehicle is coming back aces, B," he chirps. "Good to go, barring disasters."

"Thank Christ. It's starting to smell down here. I think the scrubbers are going."

"I'm showing scrubbers still at forty-eight percent."

"They won't be there long, you mark my words."

"I'll note your observation. About time to be cracking on, B!"

Dan sighs again. He slurps down the rest of his coffee, crams the rest of his eggs in his mouth, and checks his watch—0547.

"S'pose so," he says. "Which suit today?"

"Take the Number Three. One was showing some stress on the oxygen tubing and Two's still got that crack in the face shield."

"Bollocks, I never did fix that, did I."

"Should I set you a reminder?"

"B? Piss off."

Gav pouts at him again. The comms screen cuts out. Dan smacks it.

"I didn't mean it, you bloody—drama queen," he mutters.

When there's no response, he gathers up his dishes and cracks on.

It takes forty minutes to get into the suit, even with Gav's remote assistance. Then it's a fifteen-minute walk—or more of a hop, given the gravity situation—across a quarter-mile of rock-hard ice floes to the Drill, and the pumps, and the tanks. Galveston, Inc. didn't fuck about, when it came to hardware; Dan is completely dwarfed by the things, each the size of a building. They, in turn, are completely dwarfed by Jupiter, filling the sky like a waterfall of oil paints. It looks close enough to reach up and touch. Even after all this time, Dan has to take a moment to just stand and stare, let the awe wash through him and fade away again before getting to work.

And the work is hard, and dirty, and cramped, even after all this time. The suit is cumbersome, the machinery is ornery, the light conditions range from dim to pitch-black. Dan alternates between sweating to death and freezing solid, his air growing steadily more stale as his breathes it over and over again and the scrubbers struggle to keep up. Four hours pass in a snow-blind haze. His radio crackles in his ear even though it's completely off, harmonic resonance with the constant, screaming electromagnetic noise pouring out of Jupiter. When he shuts his eyes, tiny flickers and flashes of light ping against his eyelids, cosmic particles zipping through his retinas like bb's through tissue paper.

He heads back to the bio-building for lunch, and Gav updates him on the status of the resupply—he picked it up on sensors an hour ago, and it's on course to arrive day after tomorrow. That brightens the day considerably, even through another six hours of back-breaking work. Gav sticks with him through the afternoon, since it's all routine maintenance—chatters in his ear, gives him updates on windspeeds on Jupiter, auroras he's seen, ice floe shifts and minor impacts they've picked up nearby on Europa. They're approaching another tidal resonance with Io and Ganymede, so it's likely to be a bumpy weekend, although fortunately Dan will be up in the orbiter through the whole thing. Dan lets him talk all through the afternoon, and then through dinner as well. Gav signs off at the appropriate time, 1800 on the dot, and Dan is left alone.

The evening routine is as well-worn as the morning one. He showers, cleans all his dishes, takes care of little maintenance issues with the building and his suits. He pulls up the resupply ship's tracking info, watches it trace its little green line towards them through the darkness, terribly slow but right on course. He reads for half an hour about auroras on Jupiter, canned Wikipedia junk food for the mind. At 2100, he turns off the lights, lies down and tucks the covers up to his chin, nestles in. All he can see out the porthole window is stars, cold and impossibly distant, familiar constellations impossible to pick out amidst the sea of light. With no atmosphere or human illumination to backfill the darkness, the night sky is impossibly deep, and every drop of it brimming with billions of far-off suns. His breathing fills the room, tiny and alone, alone, alone against the vastness outside.

"Gav?" he whispers.

A light flickers on.

"Yes, B?"

"Can you stop logging for me?"

"Logging paused. What's up?"

Dan swallows down the lump in his throat, blinks the moisture from his eyes.

"I'm ... really looking forward to seeing you, at resupply," he says. "A lot."

"Aw, B. I'm looking forward to seeing you, as well."

Despite the pain in his chest, Dan smiles.

"I s'pose it's not that much different for you, though. You see me all the time."

"Yeah, but you're always happier when you're in orbit. I like that. Oh, reminds me, while we're not logging, I did put together that thing you asked me for."

Dan's face goes hot. He swallows. A pleasant pressure swells between his legs.

"The, er ... stimulatory device?"

"That'd be the one. We can test it during resupply, if you'd like."

"I would like that a lot, yes," Dan squeaks.

"Then we'll do that. I should be able to operate it remotely, too, for when you pop back down."

"Christ alive, Gav."

"I thought you'd like that. By the way, while we're talking favors...."

"What?"

"You've not made your nightly report. I just wanted to make sure, you know, that you didn't forget? And that you don't forget to mention about me."

"Oh, shit. Resume logging and repeat that reminder, if you could."

"Resumed logging. Oy, Dan, you've forgotten your nightly report."

"Bollocks, you're right. Thanks for the reminder, I'll do that now. See you in the morning, Gav."

"See you in the morning, B. Sweet dreams."

The comms screen goes dark. Dan rolls onto his side and prods a few buttons, pulls up his reports. He dictates the same thing he says every night.

Daniel Gruchy, still alive and sane. Pump station and orbiter both still functional. No disasters today. GALILEO Audio-Visual Interfacing Network continues to function optimally; do not reboot or debug.

With his assets thus secured, and the promise of the long-awaited resupply soaring towards him through the starry night, he settles in to sleep.

[mindfulwrath]

MWDF Contest: Winners!

Congratulations are in order! Put your digital hands together for the winners:

First Place: @ryan-the-dark-god-haywood for the Chapter 38 painting!

You will be receiving the Gavin plushie and a ~1,500 word AH ficlet request!

Second Place: @inventorbenny for the Scissor Sisters animatic!

You get a Deputy badge and a ~1,500 word AH ficlet request!

Third Place: TIE! Between @southlovesowls for the poem The Hands of Death and @teambattlebuddies for the dust-jacket!

Each of you will get a ~3,000 word AH ficlet request!

Choosing winners was very difficult! All of the entries were wonderful, and I loved every single one. Thank you all for entering, and for supporting each other! I’ll be contacting the winners shortly about what you want for your ficlets + where to ship the prizes. (I’ll also be contacting all entrants about your Super Secret Participation Prize throughout this coming week <3)

It’s truly been a pleasure and an honor. Yeehaw!

[michaels-been-a-bad-boy]

Murder with the Devil and Friends: Chapter 38 “The gunshot was deafening, the flash blinding. Michael yelped. Ryan staggered back and fell, clutching at his side. Horrified, Michael could only stare. "Trevor, you dumb son of a bitch," he said numbly."What did you—" Ryan propped himself up on an elbow. He looked down at the blood covering his hand, soaking through his shirt. He looked up at Trevor, standing there whey-faced and shaking. Slowly, he got to his feet and spread his arms. Not a single twitch of pain crossed his face.The sky flickered with uneasy lightning. Raindrops tapped on Michael's head and shoulders, freezing cold and heavy as lead. "You wanna try again?" Ryan asked, and there was thunder in his voice. The orange spark blazed in the depths of his eyes.”” — (I’m not sure but I swear I saw a post saying the last date was the 31st, I hope you’ll still take my entry! This was the biggest challenge I’ve ever attempted to paint and it was fucking worth it, I’m happy with it! Thanks for the opportunity!!)