#first drafts for fun and profit

[hopeluna-archived]

A true love's kiss will solve it!

♡ Obey Me! Characters as fairy tale tropes

♡ Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Satan x gn!reader

♡ Genre: fluff, bit of angst?, fantasy AU

♡ A/N: this has been sitting in my drafts for literally ages and like i'm not even sure if this is good, also this got longer than I intended it to oop- but I hope you enjoy!

M.list

Lucifer

The eldest prince with a closed heart

Being the eldest has its responsibilities. Lucifer had to make sure his brothers weren't causing chaos, had to inquire and see through the kingdom's welfare and had to be the image of absolute perfection.

But he was tired. Tired of acting like a trophy, tired of getting no time to himself to have fun, tired of maintaining this facade of a statue. And mostly, tired of never getting the chance of being vulnerable and showing emotion.

He acted like he didn't care. But he did. He cared when his brothers would often talk about how much of a headache he was, unaware of him standing behind the door.

He knew that it was his fault. His pride didn't let him show his family affection and it didn't let him open his heart to anyone.

But then you showed up. A traveler who set foot upon his kingdom and on the first day, managed to literally bump into him in the market.

At first, Lucifer was annoyed at you for disrupting him. But he simply took a look at your attire, which confirmed you were foreign and walked by you.

He almost forgot about you after that encounter. Almost. He spotted you once again, a few days later, in a different market, looking around the stalls curiously. Lucifer turned away making his way home, once again ignoring the thought of you.

But it was as if something grabbed a hold of his mind and he found himself returning back to the markets almost everyday in hopes of seeing you.

And after two days, he saw you once again. And as if you could feel his gaze, you turned as both your eyes met. He found it oddly endearing how your eyes lit up in recognition, waving a hand at him with a smile on your face.

And as he watched you come over to him, strike up a conversation, he was hesitant. But as the days grew, so did your meetings. He found himself smiling more and more, feeling warm at the thought of you.

And maybe you were crazy for not being intimidated by him and maybe he was crazy for willing to talk to you. And maybe he let you slip in through the cracks of the walls around his closed heart.

Mammon

The merchant from far away

Mammon had been through kingdoms full of riches, lores, history, all kinds of people and much more. But he didn't care much for all of it, only the riches. Like a crow with an eye, he was good at knowing where his profits would be, where he would get rare items to sell.

But never did he think that visiting a certain kingdom would be a life changing matter for him when something caught his eye more than gold.

He wouldn't even be in your small kingdom if it wasn't for him losing some bet to his brothers and now he was here, wandering around in the markets, bored out of his mind when he spotted you.

You in your big hooded scarf, trying and failing, to blend in with the crowd. Well you were quite blending in with the crowd but Mammon had oddly spotted you amongst all the people.

He watched as you looked through people and stalls, often cautiously glancing back as if you were expecting for someone to lunge at you.

You were on high alert as you scanned the crowd and Mammon probably should've looked away 'cause when your eyes fell on his intense gaze on you, you froze like a child who had just been caught stealing fruit.

And as you looked away and made your way to another street, Mammon felt a pang of guilt 'cause he really didn't mean to creep you out. The next day is when you two meet.

Mammon was strolling down another part of the market when a jewellery shop caught his eye. Getting so caught up as he gazed lovingly at the shop, he failed to notice the figure he had bumped into.

Both of you froze as your eyes met and Mammon swore those were the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. This, of course, caused him to blush and he exclaimed out a quite rude "watch were yer going, will ya?!"

And in his head he slapped himself in the face as he watched a frown take over your features, watched as you huffed angrily, and watched as you walked past him, bumping his shoulder along the way.

And he didn't know why he found himself calling out for you as his feet carried him towards you. As you turned around, like he's body was working on his own, he stuttered out a apology, with exaggerated hand gestures and blushing cheeks.

So when you quirked an eyebrow at him before telling him it was okay, he felt a fraction of his quilt being washed away.

And from then on, you two met more often and often as a friendship grew and the friendship blossomed into something more.

Before, Mammon would exchange anything for gold and money to satisfy his greed but now holding you in his arms, he knows that he wouldn't exchange this for anything in the world

Satan

The rebellious prince who longs for something more

Satan hated it. He hated how everyone in this godforsaken kingdom hid their sinister intentions behind smiles, he hated how they all pretended to be companions and yet judged each other with cynical views. And most of all, he hated how he did the same thing.

Everyone around him was telling him what to do and what not to do, the court telling him what he was meant to be, the visitors from other kingdoms desperately trying to create an alliance with him with things like friendships, gifts and marriages.

He felt like he was trapped. He couldn't do this, he couldn't do that. He had people tell him what he has to be, not letting him choose. It was suffocating. And the only place, the only escape he found from all this, was a beautiful clearing in a small forest not too far away from the castle. A plush bed of grass with flowers scattered here and there, and a small river running beside it.

He would often ignore some of his "duties", pick up a few books and head to the place to clear his mind alone in peace. So he was shocked to say the least, when he had once again made his way there, only to find a figure by the tree he sits under.

He watched from afar as you hummed to yourself while looking up at the sky with a soft smile. Satan, for the first time felt completely enthralled by your soothing voice and smile.

But he quickly made his way back with a shake of the head. He would just come back another day and you would be gone and all would be normal.

And so the next day came, and Satan was wondering around the palace halls having left his clingy attendents who were hell bent on making him choose a suitor.

He scoffed lightly as he thought back to it, when he's gaze fell on you, carrying a tray of plates into the kitchen. You, the person who had taken his place by the river. As he glanced inside the kitchen, careful to not make his presence known, he saw you, chatting away with some other maids.

So you were a worker here, how had he never noticed you? He was usually so sharp at observing everyone who was in the palace.

Nonetheless, he went on his way, back to his room but now with the lingering want of knowing more about you on his mind.

A few days later, he had once again decided to go to the river to escape from his troubles and once again he had to found you there, now picking some flowers. Only this time, he made the decision to talk to you.

And he would be lying if he didn't say your shocked and flustered expression on seeing him was more than amusing. When he asked you what you were doing here, you replied that you had stumbled upon this place and found it to be very calming.

For the first few weeks, he would talk to you but only for a little while. But he found himself wanting to know more about you, to talk to you and he found himself doing just that.

And suddenly when he found himself softly kissing you under that same tree he first saw you under, a warm feeling spread in his chest and he realized, maybe he doesn't hate it all.

───────────

Comments and reblogs are appreciated!! Do not repost or claim as yours though, its not cool.

[tangibletechnomancy]

How To Use AI To Fake A Scandal For Fun, Profit, and Clout

Or, I Just Saw People I Know To Be Reasonable Fall For A Fake "Ripoff" And Now I'm Going To Gently Demonstrate What Really Happened

So, we all know what people say about AI. It's just an automatic collage machine, it's stealing your data (as if the rest of the mainstream internet isn't - seriously, we should be using that knee-jerk disgust response to demand better internet privacy laws rather than try to beef up copyright so that compliance has to come at the beginning rather than the end of the process and you can be sued on suspicion of referencing, but I digress...), it can't create anything novel, some people go so far as to claim it's not even synthesizing anything, but just acting as a search engine and returning something run through a filter and "proving" it by "searching" for their own art and "finding" it.

And those are blatant lies.

The thing is, the reason AI is such a breakthrough - and the reason we memed with it so hard when DALL-E Mini and DALL-E 2 first dropped - is because it CAN create novel output. Because it CAN visualize the absurd ideas that no one has ever posted to the internet before. In fact, it would be a bigger breakthrough in computer science if we DID come up with an automatic collage machine - something that knows where to cut out a part of one image and paste it onto another, then smooth out the lighting and colors to make them fairly consistent, to make it look like what we would recognize as an image we're asking for? That would make the denoising algorithm on steroids that a diffusion model is look like child's play.

But, unlike the posts that claim that they're just acting as a collage maker at best and a search engine at worst, I'm not going to ask you to take my word for it (and stick a pin in this point, we'll come back to it later). I'm going to ask you to go to Simple Stable (or Craiyon, or the Karlo demo, if Google Colab feels too complicated for you - or if you like, do all of the above) and throw in a shitpost prompt or two. Ask for a velociraptor carousel pony ridden by a bunny. Ask for Godzilla fighting a wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tube man. Ask for an oil painting of a capybara wearing an ornate princess gown. Shitpost with it like we did before these myths took hold.

Now take your favorite result(s) and reverse image search them. Did you get anything remotely similar to your generated image? Probably not!

So then, how did someone end up getting a near perfect recreation of their work? Was that just some kind of wacky, one-in-a-million coincidence?

Well - oh no, look at that, I asked it for a simplistic character drawing and it happened to me too, it just returned a drawing of mine that I never even uploaded, and it's the worst drawing I've done since the fifth grade even just to embarrass me! Oh no, what happened, did they change things right under my nose, has digital surveillance gotten even WORSE?? Look, see, here's the original on the left, compare it to the output on the right - scary!! They're training on the contents of your computer in real time now, aaaagh!!

Except, of course, for the fact that the entire paragraph above was a lie and I did this on purpose in a way no one could possibly recreate from a text prompt, even with a perfect description.

How?

See, some models have this nifty little function called img2img. It can be used for anything from guiding the composition of your final image with a roughly drawn layout, to turning a building into a dragon...to post-processing of a hand-drawn image, to blatantly fucking lying about how AI works.

I took 5 minutes out of my day to crudely draw a character. I uploaded the image to this post. I saved the post as a draft. I stuck the image URL in the init_image field in Simple Stable, cranked the init strength up to 0.8, cleared all text prompts, and ran it. It did exactly what I told it to and tried to lightly refine the image I gave it.

If you see someone claiming that an AI stole their image with this kind of "proof", and the image they're comparing is not ITSELF a parody of an extremely well-known piece such as the Mona Lisa, or just so extremely generic that the level of similarity could be a coincidence (you/your favorite artist do/es not own the rule of thirds or basic fantasy creatures, just to name one family of example I've seen), this is what happened.

So from here you must realize that it is deeply insidious that posts that make these claims usually imply or even outright state that you should NOT try to recreate this but instead just take their word for it, stressing ~DON'T FEED THE MACHINE~. It's always some claim about "ohhh, the more you use them, the more they learn, I made a SACRIFICE so you don't have to" - but txt2img functions can't use your interaction to learn jack shit. There's no new information in a text prompt for them TO learn. Most img2img models can't learn from your input either, for that matter! I still recommend being careful about corporate img2img toys - we know that Facebook, for instance, is happy to try and beef up facial recognition for the WORST possible reasons - but if you're worried about your privacy and data harvesting, any given txt2img model is one of the least worrying things on the internet today.

So do be careful with your privacy online, and PLEASE use your very understandable knee-jerk horror response to how much extremely personal content can be found in training databases as a call to DEMAND better privacy laws ("do not track" should not be just for show ffs) and compliance with security protocols in fields that deal with very private information (COMMON CRAWL DOESN'T GO FAR OUT OF ITS WAY, IT SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN ABLE TO GET ANY MEDICAL IMAGES THE PATIENTS DIDN'T SHARE THEMSELVES HOLY SHIT, SOME HOSPITAL WORKERS AND/OR MEDICAL COMMUNICATIONS DEVELOPERS BETTER BE GETTING FIRED AND/OR SUED) - but don't just believe a convenient and easy-to-disprove lie because it aligns with that feeling.

[who1ssheesh]

Paint me burgundy

Pairings: Xanxus x Artist!S/O

Snippets (not really connected) of you both being pseudointellectual snobs. Xanxus likes classics, you like suprematists and other stupid things he doesn't.

Warnings: some suggestive and violent themes, swearing, nor beta-read; self-indulgent, S/O has specific traits. some references are quickly explained right in the text lol just in case, they are marked in a red color. not specified how he met the reader and i dont care much

A/N: first of all, I love to headcanon Xanxus being a fan of classic and very expressive art, and second of all, YES this is a very self-indulgent + YES its Xanxus again + i don't care + L + ratio, at least i had fun. Actually there is also "Paint me azure" with Squalo in my drafts, please please please let me know if i should keep it with an artist s/o or switch to some other artistic skill </3 or maybe that idea is a really bad one to begin with lol

Some would say art for Xanxus is merely a bullet hole in a canvas, but they completely miss the point that he in return to that statement would himself a Lucio Fontana of the mafia world.

-

Being raised in a high-society - he would say that word with a snort though - he is around art a lot, and you should give credit to Timoteo who tried to educate his son and open all the possibilities no ordinary man can ever afford.

-

Xanxus has such a delicate soul. Like a silk string, tense and easy to rip. Sometimes daydreaming about dying a poetic death to be remembered for generations. "What an artist dies in me", he mutters expressively while smoking a cigarette on a balcony viewing the old Venice.

Quote on an Emperor Nero, said before he died. Known for tyranny, cruelty and debauchery, he had a big passion for art. And still he proved himself as a good ruler until he devolved to despotism and cruelty after his mentor died. Nero delved deeper into art, forgetting about his duties which led to his demise. Emperor found out he was going to be assassinated and said the quote before slitting his throat. Does Xanxus see himself in Nero? Maybe he doesn't want to but he does. A lot.

After that Xanxus laughs. He will not die.

-

Xanxus is inevitably intertwined with death. He remembered seeing Caravaggio as a child. A big canvas looking at him threateningly with an unknown feeling of dread, leaving deep red in his memory. Latter works beckon him with the despair hidden in them, and this was the first time in life Xanxus was left...breathless.

Being the famous artist Caravaggio is, his life was filled with tragedies due to his aggressive character. He was exiled from Rome after killing Tomassoni and in the end, though there are a lot of rumors, historians are convinced he was killed by Tomassoni family in revenge. His works after the incident noticeably shift tone.

Xanxus realized he likes burgundy.

-

Xanxus develops a taste in a bold art. Something aggressive, not afraid to challenge the viewer. He likes gems that shine silently, being able to catch the eye only of the knowing one who understands its value, not a colored glass attracting every fool with its...vulgarity, i'd say. Xanxus loves himself too much to be surrounded surround with anything but the best.

Still not an "accepting modern art" level of bold art but he will go there if he wants or not.

You haven't considered yourself a suffering artist. It's easier to day that you are not the artist than to spend all the money you have on a way too expensive materials to profit...nothing. You could leave that a little cozy dream to achieve in life - to have a small studio of your own.

But for now you can appreciate the art of the greatest. Or so you think, because a bored Xanxus accidentally turned out to be in a museum right next to you in contrary thinks you're an idiot.

"You're looking at a fucking black square", he says almost disgusted for no reason.

"Well, you're looking at me looking at a black square. Who's better?"

Xanxus barks a laugh.

"What's the point though?"

"You want a boring one or a funny one?"

"I'm too sober for a boring one."

"Imagine it's like...a background of a Caravaggio painting. You're standing your back to the main painting and looking at the blackness. You know what I mean?"

Xanxus smirks.

"Let's go."

"Where?"

"I need a shot before I hear your other bullshit."

A manifesto. Suprematism being the new step for the philosophy of things - exploring not the outer shape but the true meaning of it. A simple square being the beginning of all shapes. "A quadrangle", you call it. "It's a square, you idiot", Xanxus tells you. The first name being the quadrangle because there were no right angles to show a dynamic form in a static quadrangle, you explain. Xanxus doesn't answer not knowing if it's fucking stupid or equally genius. Black square for economy, red for revolution and white for a pure action, which one would be you?

"Red", Xanxus says confidently.

"Why not all of them? If you mix them all...let's roughly say it's something pretentious like burgundy".

He likes that. Why choose when Xanxus can have all. And he likes burgundy. A lot. Maybe he even could like suprematism with your bullshit. He doesn't like economy at all though, but the sound of having all at the same time is good.

Xanxus has never gave a shit about architecture. His architecture is having a lavish house and a comfortable expensive bed to fall asleep after too much drink. Or work. Or both. Not long ago having you in the bed naked was added to that wish list.

But "never have a shit" doesn't equal to "never knew".

"I would make a fucking impluvium in m'house", he lazily gesticulates a square while comically standing in the center of your small apartment which, you feel, has Xanxus as a pretty much a resident. You're not sure how to hide an absurd ton of alcohol from your visiting family and friends or what to do with his sour strong cologne trail. But should you bother at that point?

"Why?", you snort.

"Why the fuck not?", he moves closer with hand in his pockets and jokingly threatens you. "To be filled with the blood of virgins or sum, duh".

Your laugh fills the room, and Xanxus feels at peace. Sort of, he still doesn't have an impluvium filled with the blood of a hundred virgins.

Xanxus is fully aware you are an artist of a huge potential. He pretends he didn't see your albums here and there filled with his sketchy portraits, and deep down he can't understand how you...like him so much? How you notice small useless things to the point of learning exact pattern of his scars and somehow also add some shitty sappy poetic-my-ass comparisons.

So judging that he was expecting something pompous of you for his birthday, especially after his "Just do me all cool in a suit, naked whores here and there, dead Sawada on the wall instead of a tiger skin and Squalo on his knees.", and still he is convinced that is going to be your life masterpiece, a magnum opus.

But here he is, Lussuria showing him an unpacked painting of... a burgundy square. Some of the guests starts whispering that it's some mockery.

"Boss, it's a square of all things?"

"It's a quadrangle, you idiot".

Just in a couple of days there is a bullet hole in the painting, but you would be not a xanxus-said-idiot but a real one to expect something different from your pretty extravagant man.

No matter how hard some people try to hide it - Fran was too late with his illusions, Lussuria was scared for your "soft" heart and it feels like even Squalo has some pity towards you - you're still here, looking at the ruined canvas with...not sadness.

"I like that", your eyes shine while looking at whatever you can call it now. "Ever thought about Lucio Fontana? He was the first one to use canvas as a piece of work itself, not as a base for the art. Aggressive and not afraid to challenge the old ways, isn't that Xanxus as a whole?"

"He used a sword to cut the canvas, duh!" Squalo screamed while taking his leave clearly being offended with that comparison.

Since that day if someone says art for Xanxus is merely a bullet hole in a canvas, but they completely miss the point that he in return to that statement would himself a Lucio Fontana of the mafia world.

He doesn't give a shit who he is and doesn't understand whatever the hell he did. but at least rich idiots believe when he says it's some extremely expensive unique art piece.

He has his own manifesto in a way.

[netherworldpost]

@cha0tician when I was Evil Supply Co., we had a newspaper for nearly two years.

Physically printed on large paper. It was part of a subscription box — Mister Ghost’s Highly Enviable Monthly Parcel of Simple Yet Amazing Wonderments

(Fun fact I came up with that name at a bar in one go and did not edit it — it was the pure first draft)

This was a 4 page (1 sheet of paper front/back) and folded into 11x14.

Subscription billing services add costs to the already base $0.30 + 2.9% processing of cards (fairly industry standard pricing), making inexpensive products affordable.

Two sheets of letter sized paper and a thin envelope is roughly one ounce, so a newspaper is probably 2 or even 4, driving up postage considerably.

Even printed black and white (instead of color) the pricing was difficult.

Newspaper ages quick (it’s very acidic) so back stock decays fairly rapidly…

…and this one trick (storing bundles of newspaper) is key to driving your studio-mates wild with passion for you!

The problem with having submissions is two fold — ensuring originality (vs stealth plagiarism) and having a clear focus on the stories.

My stories are very focused and narrow… it’s one of the reasons I change/am changing the name of the company.

A lot of people saw ESC and walked in the digital door looking for true crime and/or horror and got queer monster utopia and were disappointed. Which is fair with the name, and so in this second act I want to give a more straightforward “this is who we are and what we do.”

It’s all a really careful balance.

Going back to the pricing a moment — if the retail price is even as high as $5, after processing fees and postage, it’s maybe $0.50/issue profit into the coffers to keep the company going.

Miss one deadline (as a subscription your deadlines are right, and printing takes 1.5 - 3 weeks) and your customer numbers take huge hits.

Complicates the whole thing.

The last few Mister Ghost boxes ran late because of all the above, and timed with an industry decline of subscription boxes, hurt the whole company bad.

Advertising is… tricky. I would have to hire someone to exclusively work on ads.

The alternative I am working on is just having it as an occasional promotion.

That cuts out processing fees and taxes (it actually helps taxes as it’s a marketing deduction).

Just every once in awhile, on a non-specified time scale (alleviating all production deadline issues), printing a small run. “Okay the papers come in today, we have 200, so include them in the next 200 orders.”

It’s tricky (what isn’t!) because it’s not going to be “the next 200 orders get…!” because frantic ordering Creates Problems (I don’t want to tell #201 they should have been faster)

I keep coming back to the ideas of surprise and delight.

You won’t see a gnome every time you go to the forest — you won’t see them hardly ever — but once in awhile you will and then it becomes a truly magical day.

So once in awhile maybe you get a newspaper or a small painting or a foil sticker in your order, or you are a customer who hasn’t ordered for us and I say “hey rather than give Google more cash let’s take a month of ad budget and print glow in the dark stickers and send to people.”

(This is from my business ramble side blog)

I don’t know if “surprise and delight” will be effective marketing.

Maybe it is but it’s too expensive to keep up and it ends up folding the company entirely.

Maybe it’s wildly successful and we continue to survive to make the world weirder.

I want to be honest and open on any public domain research and development rambles that they easily could fail — have a significant chance of it. There are no guarantees, at all, that any of this will work.

It has to be said “the reason these things are not common is because the risk is, to put it mildly, extremely high.”

Without this honesty I am nothing more than a snake oil salesman peddling false hope about making the world a weirder and more fun place.

But what if it does work?

My risk tolerance in business is…

… significant.

This makes me fun to shop with but, hm, complicated, to invest in — which is why i don’t take investors, and when folks kindly offer to toss a few bucks to help us get going, I decline and ask them to shop at an artist store who they have always meant to buy something at but always forget.

I am uncomfortable enough with “we are going to launch.. someday!” — I cannot stand the thought of taking possession of someone’s money without clear lines of “you will get X by Y day.”

All of this is a massive, significant, frequently overwhelming risk.

But.

But!

If it does end up working?

It’s going to be magnificent.

I work on this company because doing this work makes me more “me” than if I didn’t. It’s part of my fabric.

These public domain research and development posts (and future blog versions which can go into more detail) are my way of (hopefully) giving back.

I can’t make a subscription newspaper work but maybe someone else can and then I get to subscribe to it and my world gets weirder because I can read it ;)

But

Whenever I go down these paths

I always want to be very careful and explicit:

Very few things are impossible

Most things are more difficult than they seem

I don’t have all the answers but I might be able to help start the conversations that get someone closer to them

[scribbleseas]

Straight Laced, Chapter IV: To Be A Helpful Dance Partner

Description: After the London’s Royal Ballet company’s prima ballerina goes missing within a string of mysterious disappearances among the ballet’s young ballerinas, you finally get your chance to debut in the leading role, taking on the position’s physical toil and immense social pressure. Although this role was supposed to be your grand jeté into the spotlight, it is quickly complicated when these disappearances catch the eye of Ciel Phantomhive — the Queen’s Guard Dog. He is a captious and shrewd man who also happens to be one of London’s most eligible bachelors.

For enough profit for you to secure your freedom for the first time, Lord Phantomhive double casts you as both his accomplice to solving these dancer disappearances and… his pretend lover. While debuting as London’s new prima ballerina, you must perfect a brand new routine: deceiving all of the nation’s polite society while actively searching for a serial killer — all while being an immigrant from France with a dancer’s reputation.

What could go wrong when you realize this off-stage performance of yours may not be an act at all?

Story Warnings: detailed description of gore, pain, and violence, detailed death, smut & explicit sexual scenes, allusions to non-consensual sex, objectification, prostitution, allusions to under-aged prostitution, smoking, drinking, eating disorder tendencies (food restriction, frequent references to wanting to maintain a certain weight, over-practicing & exercising), infidelity, fake courtship, swearing

Author’s Note: Oh, my. This is just over 9,000 words; I highly suggest getting a snack and finding somewhere comfortable if you intend to read this in one sitting. I really don’t know what happened, but I adore this chapter so much. I had so much fun writing it! Thank you so much for all of your support - I can’t believe I’m so close to 100 followers! I appreciate it more than anything.

One more thing: let us all collectively scream at the fact that us anime enjoyers are getting a season 4 of the anime!! Isn’t that something? I’m so stoked to watch it and come up with even more Ciel stories for us!! (I say, as if I don’t already have 3 baby ciel fics in the drafts.)

Happy Reading,

- Dan

MASTERLIST

⇐ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER ⇒

Late October

The Royal Opera House, The Practice Room

No one dared settle in the middle of the frontmost barre. It was arguably the best spot in the practice room because all of the directional mirrors on the walls reflected the dancer in the spot— therefore, they could watch themself plié from any angle.

Being the lead prima ballerina, it was your spot after Janet died. The mirror her steely blue eyes would burn into was now yours and in the time before you joined the investigation, you relished having your own detached space. A vicinity where you could only see yourself while the rest of the cast shared what was left— just as you had before your promotion.

Now, you were purposely choosing to your old spot: the far left side of the main barre. You waited until Violet arrived and settled to your right. It was her usual spot and she was so accustomed to the routine, that she hardly spared you a glance.

“Hello, Violet,” you greeted, startling her as she adjusted her leotard. Warm-up class, Natasha’s pre-performance requirement, started in about two hours but dancers were sure to start arriving soon. You didn’t have a lot of time to accomplish what you wished. The ballerinas with something to prove were always there about an hour ahead of time. You would know— you used to be among them, pleading with Natasha for private lessons, picking every step apart like an austere war general. If it is not perfect, it is not correct.

Startled, Violet’s breath hitched as she flinched, acting as if you intimidated her. “Good afternoon, Y/n,” she replied timidly, her onyx eyes searching for a reason as to why you were speaking to her. You didn’t know her last name— you had never spoken to her. “You’re here early,” she ventured, attempting to draw an explanation from you.

“I want to talk with you,” you admitted, dropping your voice to a conspiratorial low. The two of you were alone for the time being, and you needed to have this conversation in private. Ciel wanted to raise as minimal concern as possible, and Violet was one of the quietest in the company. If you spoke with her, even about such a controversial topic, she would never tell anyone. The only other dancer she would have spoken to was the late Eliza O’Malley, whose patron was co-hosting the ball that you were to attend with Ciel later that night. Alexander Huntington.

“Did you?” Violet asked, pausing in front of the mirror to decide how she wanted to begin warming herself up. She inhaled sharply and dropped into a demi plié, her right hand holding the bar as her left drew outwards elegantly. “Why?”

You mirrored her, dropping into a demi plié and following her into her next fluid movement, a grand plié. “About the disappearances,” you stepped into second position and repeated the demi and grand pliés with her. Violet studied your movements, taking in your lengthened back, and the way you positioned your fingers. Of course. You were Odette. She was one of the shortest dancers in the company, and therefore, one of the four swans in the pas de chat.

Along with Violet, Eliza O’Malley was one of the swans before she died. Going missing before Janet and Amélie, she was the eighth dancer to vanish or die, rather. Your heart was heavy when Ciel told you that her body was found, but the details must have been so gruesome, that Ciel decided to spare you. “You were close with Eliza, were you not?”

Your words caused Violet to pause before turning her feet into third position and continuing to plié. Her pale skin seemed to only grow ashier as she regarded you. Watching her closely, you noticed that she was alarmingly thin— more emaciated than any ballerina would ideally be. With her raven black hair and matching brown eyes, you imagined that if Sebastian had a daughter, Violet would resemble her.

“We were best friends, I loved her,” Violet’s lip quivered, her voice no higher than a broken whisper. It was a pained whimper, the defeated sound of a mortally wounded animal.

“Will you come to my dressing room?” You asked, not anticipating her earnest confession. You wanted to give her the dignity of crying in private. “I need your help.”

Even more to your surprise, Violet agreed. Her trembling hands picked up her bag and shouldered it as she followed you to your private space. She startled at the harsh sound of your closing door.

“How…could I possibly help you? And what could you even need help with?” Violet asked, her curiosity defeating her concerns. She stared into her lap, sitting stiffly on your vanity chair while you occupied the loveseat at its side.

“I think dancers from this company are dying. Not going missing like everyone has been saying,” you said evenly, trying to speak with warm understanding in your voice to avoid upsetting her further. “I think someone killed Eliza and the others.”

Violet nodded resolutely, her inability to stay still reminding you of a wary bird. “I think you’re right,” she sniffled. “It was William Wood. I know it, and I come here during off hours to try to find the spare key to his office. I know he has one around here somewhere for when he forgets his copy at home. There’s got to be evidence in there—” The more she spoke, the faster her words came. They were confident, broken, and so certain that it was disquieting.

“Mr. Wood?” You asked in disbelief, causing her to give you a wide-eyed, silencing look. You must have said his name too loudly, but you doubted there was anyone incriminating outside of your dressing room at the moment. “Why do you say—”

“He forces himself on dancers!” Violet exclaimed, a stark contrast from her frantic rambling. “Eliza and the rest of the girls who disappeared were only a handful of those he abused.”

Your mouth was dry with shock, your eyes stinging with the need to cry. Mr. Wood? Natasha’s husband? No. The man was only ever smiling. He was generous, and kind. He loved his wife, did he not?

Your stomach lurched. The deaths all took place before William departed for Paris. Even Sebastian estimated that the killer poisoned Amélie and put her in contact with the chemical weeks before her death. He said she must have absorbed it through her skin. William would have been in London, at the time. He would have still been in London when Janet went missing, as well, though her body had yet to be found. Was Mr. Wood truly capable of being so cruel?

“I think he kills them when he’s ready to move on. It keeps them quiet, s-so they don’t tell the Yard, or Natasha, or ruin his company, or…” she rambled, wringing her hands in her lap. “It’s only a matter of time before he moves on to the next one. You should be careful, Y/n.”

That was not the first time you heard the sentiment.

You put a tender hand on her fidgeting ones. Her nail beds were bitten raw. “Violet. I want to help you find who has been doing this. I… need to know where you have looked for his office key, and everyone you know he has assaulted. Can you help me with that?” You asked gently, using the same soothing voice you would calm a terrified animal.

When she didn’t respond, you continued. “I may not be able to tell you much, but I am working with someone who will stop at nothing to solve these murders. He truly is very smart,” the words tasted as bitter as cigar smoke, but you meant them. You had never met anyone quite as focused and certain as Ciel Phantomhive. He was the Queen’s loyal Guard Dog, and you were his accomplice. And his faux lover.

“Lord Phantomhive?” She asked, wiping away a fresh tear. Her lips turned upwards in a weak smile. “I knew that the timing was rather convenient— his courting you.”

You let yourself snort, amused that she stitched your collective lies and admissions together to find the truth. “Please do not tell anyone. If people find out…” you started, knowing she was smart enough to understand that if any other dancers know, then Natasha would find out, and inevitably, her husband would from her. Natasha deserved to find out that her husband was unfaithful, but not in such a painful way.

“No one will hear it from me,” Violet said resolutely, her cold hand giving yours a brief, yet reassuring, squeeze.

That Evening, Post-Performance

The Royal Opera House, Your Dressing Room

Ciel waited for you outside your dressing room after the performance, as he did every other evening. When he was unable to escort you, he would send two of his house staff members or Sebastian to escort you, highly concerned with your safety because of his ‘long list of enemies.’

Apparently, policing London’s Underworld did not make Ciel popular amongst big crime syndicates and even small-time criminals, making you a potential target. A weakness. Especially after The Oxford Gazette released a brief about your courtship, complete with quotes from Ciel and yourself. Speaking with Adam Blackwell during one of your performances’ intermissions earlier that week had been equal parts invigorating and intimidating.

Even if it was a startling process, the article had been illuminating for your public character. He painted you as an industrious self-starter who moved from France to pursue your passion for ballet. But you weren’t naïve enough to believe that a glowing review from the Adam Blackwell would completely erase the inevitable social repercussions you and Ciel would face for this faux pas. An Earl — especially one of Ciel’s magnitude — and a commoner such as yourself was unheard of.

Natasha easily unclipped your Odette costume, a white tutu with feather detail. The bodice was a strict and unforgiving corset, the clasps going up your back. You would never be able to get in and out of the costume on your own, even though Natasha had every right to force you to make do. She was the company director, not the lead costume designer. The costume designer, a kindly and mature woman named Polly, was hard at work with measurements for The Nutcracker, and all of the costuming assistants worked on the wardrobes with her, rather than Natasha.

As the director, Natasha dedicated nearly every minute of her life into the Royal Opera House Company and for so little in return. For all of her earnest work, she received next to nothing in return. You couldn’t help but pity her.

“Lord Phantomhive’s butler asked me for your birthstone the other evening,” Natasha grinned as she fastened your costume back onto its hanger. “You do know what that means, yes?” She asked, her stormy blue eyes alight piqued interest.

“No,” you replied nonchalantly, your lips starting to curve upwards in a smile. You needed to play the role you were cast in: the unorthodox woman who caught the Earl’s attention. You needed to be lovestruck; you needed to be playful. “Do you?” You said with enough irony for Natasha to playfully roll her eyes and snicker.

“It means the Earl is looking to buy you an expensive gift, Y/n. A custom-made piece.”

“So soon?” You chuckled in a way you hoped was bashful. Natasha had never seen you in love before, but you presumed you’d be more tight-lipped than telling her every detail regarding your experiences with particular suitors — good and bad.

You unclipped your costume’s headpiece and offered it to the director once she finished hanging your Odette outfit next to the Odile ensemble on your wall.

For convenience, you slipped into a clean leotard and the long wool coat Ciel bought for you. It was the same charcoal black as his, and the hem fell to your knees. It was, by far, the warmest item of clothing you owned— it was just in time for the autumn season to shift into the bitter winter. Your tights matched your skin, giving your clothing an entirely nude palette.

“I know. How exciting,” Natasha said, all cheer and amazement for your success, given that a woman’s future heavily depended on the sort of man she married. She was always in your corner, ever since you joined the company. You imagined it was because she saw herself in you. The same hunger for brilliance and perfection. You imagined Natasha was a stunning prima ballerina before her accident, having met William because she amazed him with her portrayal of Aurora in the Opera House’s production of Sleeping Beauty about five years ago.

You felt another sting of pity for having to withhold such important information about her marriage from her.

For the sake of the investigation, you could hear Ciel chime in the back of your mind.

“Have a magical night, Cinderella,” Natasha joked, steadying her cane as she readied herself to leave. “I hope your ball is enchanting tonight. They tend to be.”

You quirked an eyebrow, struggling from the irony. You were the furthest from a fairytale princess— only heading to the ball because your fake Prince Charming needed to court you to divert suspicion for a serial killer investigation. “Does that make you my Fairy Godmother?”

“Something of the sort,” she winked before leaving, saying a brief hello to Ciel as she passed him.

That Evening, Pre-Ball

Your Bedroom

“You had a new dress made for me?” You couldn’t keep the surprise and slight frustration from your voice as you gaped at the various pieces of a clearly expensive ball gown. It was darker than blood, an intense and ironic color that you wouldn’t have expected from Ciel, given his trademark blues and blacks. A pearl necklace, a matching set of pearl drop earrings, three silver rings, and a pair of white gloves sat on your dresser. Matching red heels waited on your chair cushion— they were relatively short.

“Yes. It is of the utmost importance that your clothing assures the rest of the nobility that you belong on my Lord’s arm,” Sebastian replied. “I took the liberty of bringing your measurements to our modiste.”

Where could Sebastian have possibly learned your dress measurements? You wondered, your eyes widening and lips pursing with stress. If Sebastian could find such minuscule details about you, his master’s ally, you were scared for those who fell on the other side of his opulent shield.

“Shall I help you prepare, Miss Y/n?” Sebastian asked, fastening his necktie around his eyes for your modesty— not that it was of importance to you anymore. He moved before you could answer, completely aware that your answer would be yes.

As Sebastian pieced your dress together— several smaller, complex accessories went under the top petticoat— he held an impromptu etiquette lesson.

“You must address nobles with their rightful titles, Miss. Given that you are a commonoer, all titles are above yours— you must refer to nobles as my Lord and my Lady. You must not engage in any impolite conversation,” Sebastian continued, tightening your corset. It felt as if he was suffocating you with the excessive information and by over-constricting the undergarment. “By impolite conversation I mean: do not engage in argument, do not interrupt anyone when they are speaking, do not lose temper or speak excitedly, do not speak of personal matters. By personal matters, I am referring to…”

Even if he was overzealous when it came to cramming two decades worth of knowledge into your brain, you knew Sebastian meant well. He was helping you master etiquette because ultimately, your success was his master’s as well. If you could play the role of a reformed ballerina, it would ensure that the investigation would remain as inconspicuous as possible. A strong show of social prowess from you meant you and Ciel could bring the killer (potentially your employer, if Violet was right) to justice.

By the time Sebastian was finished preparing you, your head pounded, a physical manifestation of every rule the butler engrained into you. Furthermore, the woman who returned your gaze in the mirror was certainly not you. She was the picture of opulence— she wore the pearl necklace elegantly as if it were her birthright. Her hair was out of its typical ballerina bun, styled partially up and partially down impeccably. It bounced in ringlets that Sebastian accomplished through a long process including fire-heated tongs and curl paper.

Perhaps, you truly were Cinderella for once.

“How will you address Gabriel Giffard and Alexander Huntington tonight?” Sebastian asked as he rolled the long white gloves up your hands. He slid your rings on for you— they were thin silver bands, matching the silver in your pearl drop earrings.

You punctuated your silence with a hum, drawing yourself from staring into your reflection. “Gabriel is the Viscount of Tiverton so it would be…Lord Tiverton and Alexander is…” You closed your eyes briefly to try to recall if Alexander had a noble title. No, he is only a wealthy businessman. “Mr. Huntington.”

“Very good, Miss,” Sebastian said. He studied your face before turning back to your vanity. He picked a light lip rouge, a soft red that was natural enough for your lips to appear bitten, rather than painted. Your makeup was significantly less dramatic than you’d ever worn, and instead, it accentuated the features you already had. It was less of a weapon and more of a tool. Sebastian ran the near-neutral lip salve over your lips and gave you a tissue to blot any excess away.

“There. You resemble a proper lady, now,” Sebastian said. If he hadn’t been looking at you like an artist after his final brushstroke on his masterpiece, you would have been offended. Instead, you looked at yourself once more and found yourself agreeing with him— albeit hesitantly.

“Thank you, Sebastian,” you replied earnestly. “I could never have accomplished something like this on my own,” you felt strangely emotional. You spent most of your life in ratty leotards, and months-old tights. Even now that you were the principal dancer, you spent even more time in such makeshift wardrobe, only able to wear pieces that made statments during performances. Of course, those statements were made to represent your character, rather than yourself. Privately, you supposed this was no different.

Sebastian chuckled, expecting the sentiment. “If I couldn’t do this much, what kind of butler would I be?” He asked rhetorically, offering you his arm to allow him to escort you to the carriage, where Ciel awaited you. There was a foreign anxiety in your stomach that worsened with every step toward the vehicle as if you worried about how Sebastian’s master might react to your appearance. Or perhaps, anxiety was of the long-term effects of being unable to breathe properly.

You preferred that explanation much more than the former.

“I finally understand why you nobles are always so unpleasant,” you declared, stepping into the carriage with help from Sebastian. You settled on the seat opposite from Ciel, per the norm, but the dark carriage kept you from seeing more than some of his face highlighted by lamp posts outside the carriage window.

“Excuse me?” Ciel blanched, taken aback by your greeting. “Did you not just have a lesson in etiquette with my butler?”

“This corset hinders my breathing, and I can barely remember all of the rules from within my lesson,” you adjusted your skirts to keep them from catching in the carriage door. The gown took up nearly all of the space on your bench and in the rest of the space. “Not to mention, I have plenty of ball gowns. It was unnecessary for you to—”

“We couldn’t have you re-wearing some dress from some old patron,” Ciel explained. “That would have been most unseemly.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course, the Earl dressed you in the most expensive and elegant ensembles you’ve ever worn to preserve his image, of all things. Though you supposed, he was sacrificing more than you were, at least on the social stage. You had to look and act flawlessly, or it would only drive him to further (self-inflicted, of course) ruin. The fact that you had to pretend to be in love was Ciel’s fault, to begin with! You were entirely innocent!

Your face sobered as you recalled the crucial information Violet uncovered for you. “Oh— Ciel, I learned something today,” you admitted, your sudden urgency capturing his attention. “I heard that William Wood takes sexual advantage of company members— many of whom have been killed over the past several weeks….” You started, exhaling as if the information was constricting your lungs as painfully as the corset was in the midst of doing.

Ciel’s grave expression didn’t insinuate surprise. Instead, it only grew stormier. “I’ve heard the rumors of the like about the bastard. I was looking to confirm them,” his fist clenched in his lap. “For this evening, we will speak with Alexander Huntington. We will need to investigate William Wood, next. Understood?”

That Evening, The Ball

Alexander Huntington’s Estate, The Grand Ballroom

This is another stage, Y/n. It is not unlike the Opera House, you repeated to yourself in an effort to quell your drumming pulse. It was anxiety; it was excitement. It was the same readiness you felt moments before the beginning of a new performance; the feeling of knowing that there were several dozens of eyes on you.

“Remember everything Sebastian told you,” Ciel mumbled, moments before stepping through the grand entrance and into the ballroom. He’d led you up the grand stairway in the front of the main building and through the open doors, which were flanked by two guards. Your arms were laced together, and you watched his face fade from Ciel Phantomhive and ignite once more to portray the Earl of Phantomhive, a small, certain smile tugging the corner of his lips, his chin raised.

You didn’t need to force yourself to smile in amazement. Mr. Huntingdon’s ballroom was bursting with life— over 100 nobles occupied the space as they danced, talked, ate, and drank. Astonishing paintings lined the walls, accompanied by intricate wood paneling and long leafy plants by the ballroom’s balcony. One great stairway led to the elevated space, which was also crowded with people.

After taking every facet of the space in, you allowed your grin to fall back into something closer to the detached amusement on Ciel’s face. Sebastian had told you to appear pleased, but not too pleased as it would be an affront to your courtship with Ciel.

“Ah, Phantomhive! You’ve finally managed to show your face!” A man greeted Ciel. You were walking in his group’s general direction, and Ciel’s answering half-smile (it was much more genuine than his previously idle look) suggested that the group was his intended destination, to begin with. The man who called out appeared to be around your age. He was lightly tanned with tousled light brown hair, and matching hazel eyes. His smile displayed his white teeth and drew your attention to his tasteful goatee and beard.

“Hello, Tiverton,” Ciel answered, stopping across from the Viscount as the rest of the group made room for the both of you. This was Gabriel Giffard — Lord Tiverton — a co-host of the ball. The only face you recognized in the group was Adam Blackwell, the editor-in-chief of The Oxford Gazette; the rest of the group consisted of a young woman with curly red hair, and a man with dark hair and even stormier gray eyes. “Where is Huntington?”

“Dancing with Margaret. Why? Tired of us already?” Tiverton asked. Good-natured jabbing— lack of formality. Sebastian hadn’t told you that Ciel was on close terms with the Viscount.

Before Ciel could reply, Tiverton changed the subject. “You cannot walk away without introducing your partner. That would be rude.”

Now the rest of the group seemed comfortable with overtly staring at you, rather than continuing to attempt to mask their curious looks. You remained silent, per Sebastian’s warning, and allowed Ciel to speak — no matter how it enraged you. Given that you had the lowest status, you were unable to introduce yourself to anyone of higher rank. Ciel needed to do so for you.

“Fine, yes. This is Y/n Y/l/n, the lead prima ballerina of the London Royal Opera House Company,” Ciel said, but his delivery was completely wrong. He was too stiff and detached— as if he was getting paid to attend the ball with you.

“The pleasure is mine, Lord Tiverton,” you said politely, dipping in a shallow curtsy to observe his Viscount title. You could feel Ciel stiffen next to you, clearly wanting to comment on the fact that you respected Gabriel’s title while refusing to give him the same treatment at every opportunity. The thought of his silent frustration helped nurture your natural grin; the pinching in your cheeks was beginning to make the expression stiffen into something artificial and unsettling.

“We’ve heard much about you, Y/n. Do enjoy the ball— even if your partner here is a bit of a wallflower,” Tiverton gestured to Ciel with his chin, turning the group’s attention away from you once more. You assumed he made the cheap joke with that goal in mind, sensing your light discomfort beneath your shield of satin, pearls, and unearned confidence.

“Not everyone loves to dance, Tiverton,” Ciel said with a comedic bitterness that matched his sardonic half-grin. Brilliant light from the chandelier reflected in his exposed eye. He truly was unfairly attractive.

“You shouldn’t admit such a thing. You’re courting a literal prima ballerina,” Blackwell scoffed, giving you a firm head nod to denote his acceptance of you. The other two in the group, the freckled woman with the red hair, and the grumpy man with the perpetual scowl, had yet to give you any indication of acceptance. She studied you like a foreign agent in a laboratory, while he seemed uninterested in your presence.

Your eyes widened. Of course, Ciel disliked dancing— the man despised everything that wasn’t monochrome, monotonous, and dreary. Even still…he also disliked partaking in activities that he didn’t particularly excel at. Could he be a bad dancer?

You had to work to hold your laughter in. Instead, you turned to Ciel, your gaze sinister. “I have never danced with you, Lord Phantomhive. I believe a waltz would be most exhilarating,” you suggested, silently daring him to reject you in front of his usual company.

For once, Ciel stuttered, at a near loss for words. “I… perhaps after we greet Alexander and his wife. We may join the waltz after that,” he wanted to use this opportunity to take his leave of the conversation and find the target. So much for enjoying the ball.

“That sounds like a lovely idea,” you agreed placidly, playing the role of a polite young woman, despite her promiscuous occupation. Sebastian emphasized that in this setting, being unagreeable simply was not an option. Neither was failing to be polite and kind— which apparently, you were not on an average day. But who could blame you?

Ciel was rarely a ray of sunshine, even when he was poorly acting in front of a group.

“Shall we go?” You prompted, keeping your tone light and patient to avoid appearing desperate to exit the conversation.

“Yes. Enjoy the night, everyone,” Ciel said before leading you back down the stairway to the main floor once again. Once you were out of earshot, he lowered his voice. “We will use this waltz as a diversion. Sebastian will ensure Alexander stays away from his office, should he leave the ballroom,” he explained, his gaze locking on Alexander and his wife as they danced, laughing amongst themselves. They seemed like a loving couple— hardly one that would be half unfaithful.

“So we are not waltzing?” You asked, pouting exaggeratingly as he led you past the side of the dancing area — the center of the vast ballroom — and towards a side corridor. The both of you had to make occasional stops every few steps to greet someone new. You stopped keeping track of names and affiliations after the third mother-daughter combination approached you to size up your relationship with one of London’s most eligible bachelors. Having to respond to jealous and longing looks with your blazing grin became something akin to a game.

“No, we need to search for clues in the suspect’s office,” Ciel responded boredly, his tone telling you not to continue pressing the matter. You wanted to ask him why you didn’t have Sebastian search the office while you both continued to work the ball, but you assumed his haughty response might be along the lines of: this is my investigation. He merely acts as I instruct him, rather than making moves on his own.

Even if Sebastian could search the room much faster than the two of you could, Ciel would underutilize him to secure his position as the master.

“It seems unlocked,” you said, surprised when the door knob turned obediently in your hand. “That means he has nothing to hide, no?”

“Or it could mean he believes he has everything hidden well— or in a different location…” the Earl stepped inside before you and locked the door after you entered behind him. He took a moment to survey the room before starting towards Alexander’s long oak desk. The desk was covered with an assortment of papers, pens, a typewriter, and a candlestick telephone. Ciel started sifting through the sloppy records on the desktop not without complaining about the mess, of course. (Is the man too frugal to bother hiring a live-in maid?”)

“He certainly has an appreciation for fine art…” you mumbled, inspecting the painted canvas that hung on the wall. Aside from the art, his desk, and an office chair, there was nothing else in Alexander’s office. It was painfully empty, compared to Ciel’s ample bookshelves, bay window, and wall decor.

Still, the office was too simple for a hyperconfident man. Alexander was supposed to be a smart entrepreneur with ideas bright enough to persuade a Viscount to co-found a company with him. He wasn’t supposed to leave his office door and desk drawers unlocked unless he was trying to appear innocent to anyone looking. Business-savvy men kept their records well-maintained, rather than carelessly splayed out. At least they ensured their crucial documents were secure.

You decided to think back to what you knew about the powerful men who sponsored you over the past few years. None of them would leave such a private room so accessible unless they were hiding more crucial information, and using this display to deter any wandering eyes. This setup had to be a distraction. There was no other explanation, given the number of servants that were maintaining the ballroom— serving drinks, amuse bouches, managing garbage — there was no reason for them to avoid their master’s office unless they were specifically ordered to do so.

If Alexander was looking to sidetrack intruders in the office by giving them a messy scene to work with, then there had to be something in the room he was looking to distract them from…

You hummed, taking a step to the side to look at the painting’s canvas from the side. It wasn’t directly adhered to the wall as most paintings were— there was a gap between the back of the frame to the wall itself since the work hung from a nail hammered into the wall. Without any further thought, you moved the painting off the wall and set it on the floor, the movement easy given that the painting was quite small.

Of course, if it was easy for you to move, it had to be lighter than a feather for Alexander to lift it as many times as he pleased.

“How did you think of that?” Ciel demanded, staring at the newly exposed cutout in the wall as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “You— moved the— and—”

You surged forward. “Look. These are checks made out to Eliza O’Malley,” you pulled the papers out of the cutout. “The last one was made the week before she died. It has not been cashed,” you said, turning the document to Ciel for him to look at it over your shoulder.

“They stopped immediately before she died,” Ciel mused.

“Could he have heard of her death? That she went missing?”

“The Yard is on strict orders from Her Majesty to keep these deaths private,” he said. “It is unlikely he was aware that anything was wrong before it was time to write the next check.”

“Meaning… Alexander had to know that something happened to her,” you were unsure if your words were supposed to be a statement or a question. “So as to know not to write her another check.”

“Unless he was about to choose another company member to subscribe to, or stop the practice altogether,” Ciel suggested, but you immediately knew better.

“That seems unlikely. He was her only patron for months,” you frowned, glancing back at the hole in the wall. There seemed to be other documents— mostly business related, given that his and Tiverton’s company monogram was stamped at the top of them. You also noticed assorted valuables, gold, jewelry, watches, and notes of currency (foreign and domestic). You felt a sting of homesickness when you noticed the stack of French francs.

“Come on, Ciel. I think there is nothing to accomplish without speaking to Alexander himself—

“There is no separating him from his wife smoothly at the moment,” Ciel cut in, making you roll your eyes. How was it that women in polite society weren’t to interrupt, but Ciel could interject whenever he felt like it?

You made a show of clearing your throat. “We should wait, then. And in the meantime, teach you how to be a convincing actor,” you advised the derision in your voice more than palpable. “I nearly forgot we were supposed to be courting, given how coldly you were treating me,” you continued, raising a challenging eyebrow. “If we continue this way, no one will believe us.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?” Ciel asked impatiently, “I seem to have forgotten that you were the mistress of everything regarding deception.” He put Alexander’s checks back into the wall and moved the floral painting back into its original position. In his frustration, his movements were hurried, jagged with an irritation that seemed reserved for you.

“Well, between the two of us, you certainly are not the master!” You fired back. “Come this way, we are wasting time,” you took his arm, unlocked the door, and practically pulled him back out to the ballroom. As luck would have it, Alexander’s orchestra was just beginning a new piece.

“No, you cannot be serious, Y/n…” The sound of the conversating guests and the beginning notes of a waltz nearly drowned out all of Ciel’s quiet protests. “Y/n— no,” he seemed desperate enough to consider bribing you out of the matter, but you had your mindset. Furthermore, there were too many pairs of eyes on you for him to outwardly refuse you without seeming suspicious.

You only released Ciel’s arm once you were settled in the middle of the dance floor. The spot allowed all of the ball’s attendees to freely stare at you and him, something that he seemed to be acutely aware of, given his vague blush. The pink flush tinted his cheeks, spreading up to the tips of his ears. As the music drew louder, you dropped into another curtsey, keeping yourself in line with Ciel’s bow, dropping and raising in tandem.

Mechanically, Ciel’s arm wrapped around your back while its counterpart took your hand. He was close enough for you to feel his rigid body, stiff with uncertainty — whether it was from his clear disdain of recreational dancing, having the limitless ballroom’s attention, or the realization that he was, indeed, awful at pretending to be in love.

“You need to relax and allow yourself to have fun, sometimes,” you said, wrapping your arm around his tense shoulder. Your gloved hand sat slightly above Ciel’s shoulder blade, the other trapped in his tight grasp. Your eyes locked on the sight of your intertwined fingers, slotting together perfectly. You nearly wished you weren’t wearing gloves so you could feel the warmth from his body, and the texture of his skin. His hands were always hidden by the same black gloves; you couldn’t help but wonder what his hands might have looked like. Did aristocrats have calluses, too?

“Dancing is fun,” you insisted, putting the entirety of your body into the next spin for emphasis. “Pretend I am someone you truly like. Someone you would enjoy spending time with— no matter what you are doing,” you suggested in an attempt to dispel the nauseous look on Ciel’s face. Instead, your words only caused him to look at you incredulously, suggesting that there was no one in his life he would feel such a way for. You didn’t blame him.

“Twirling about like children is not so much my idea of fun.”

“If you bothered to watch my performances, you would realize that dancing is an art form,” you said snidely, well aware of Ciel’s habit of waiting until each production ended before waiting outside your dressing room. He hadn’t deigned to watch you in your starring role, despite being your partner. “You might also realize that dance follows emotion.” You took the words from one of Natasha’s private lessons, but it was a phrase you repeated to yourself in a mirror more times than you could count.

“Dance follows emotion,” Ciel repeated dubiously, frowning at you. His reluctance seeped into his dance steps like spilled ink to surrounding fabric. You could still feel his tension, his slight panic, and his uncertainty.

“Listen to the music. Let it guide you— not how you feel. You know these moves, Ciel. It is a nonissue,” you urged. You didn’t have a lot of time to make this dance into something believable, it would only be a few moments before onlookers would expect Ciel’s initial awkwardness to evolve into a beautiful and soft display created by an unmatched affection for you.

You needed to show that the Earl of Phantomhive loved you enough to forgo his usual wallflower role and waltz with you, his ballerina.

“Just look into my eyes,” you suggested, thinking back to the notes Natasha gave to Timothy, the dancer playing Prince Siegfried while you rehearsed Act II’s Love Duet one last time before your first performance as a prima ballerina, rather than Swan Number 43. This performance featured you as the Swan Queen, Odette as she falls in love with The Prince. It is the complete antithesis of your pas de deux as Odile, your movements formed with humility and grace rather than overt audaciousness and flashiness. While Odette was an innocent victim, Odile was a cunning trickster.

Though, you struggled to recall her advice to Timothy… perhaps, what you needed in this situation was her advice to you.

You remembered Natasha telling you to move as if you were weightless to convince the audience that you were a woman who lived in the body of a swan during her days, the condition causing her to retain most of that legato movement in her human form at night. The routine was crucial to master in terms of chemistry because it displayed Odette’s transition from being afraid of The Prince, attempting to fly away and hide within herself, to timidly deciding to place her faith in his love for her. Unlike Odile, Odette moves with The Prince in matching, co-dependent steps. She doesn’t lead him into each new move because she is not manipulating The Prince into loving her as Odile is.

“Be ethereal, fluid, and delicate,” Natasha said, “make certain your port de bras resembles a swan’s wings.”

You tried to focus on more relevant insight. Anything Natasha had to say about the acting, the artistry that accompanied the athleticism in ballet. Particularly, how to capture the Swan Queen’s gentle movements. You needed to be a helpful dance partner or your farce wouldn’t survive the night. Come on, Y/n.

“Use Odette’s wounded backstory to transform it into something beautiful. Pour her pain into her selfless love. Your Odette may have a somberness to her, and that is fine because she is a victim of a curse. She puts every bit of that pain into maintaining her iron will. You can channel any strong feeling — anger, sorrow, joy — into passion.”

You stared into Ciel’s eye, tilting your head and smiling as his gaze finally managed to soften. “Better. See, you can channel any strong emotion into a passion. Think about your favorite tea or something that can only evoke kind feelings,” you explained with a newfound gentleness as the two of you settled into a natural rhythm with the music.

Something was paralyzing about his sapphire stare. It forced you to nearly miss a step in your waltz, causing you to fumble. He held the depths of the ocean in his eye— you wished he didn’t need his eyepatch. Selfishly, you wanted to look into both of his eyes.

A new grin played on Ciel's lips. It managed to reach the rest of his face, for once. “Be careful. We can’t have the principal dancer tripping over herself in a dance of all things,” he remarked, the arm around your lower back tightening to keep you steady. The hand clasping yours gradually relaxed from its business-like squeeze to a softer grasp meant for gentle dancing.

The piece drifted to an end. Couples around you stepped into their concluding stance, about a step away from one another. They bowed and curtsied to one another, or settled into another beginning stance to continue dancing. You looked at Ciel questioningly, confident that he would be more than ready to steer you back to the sidelines to continue making your rounds about the room.

That was until he extended his hand to you once more, after righting himself from his shallow bow. “It would be optimal to wait until most of the guests leave. Until then, we have time to kill,” he explained, gauging your reaction. You willingly accepted his hand and returned to your former position— gently ensnared in his arm, while rounding yours around his shoulder.

You were close enough to smell the sweet scent of expensive tea and clean soap wafting from his neck since the height difference between you and the Earl left you aligned with his sternum. Or more interestingly, the blood-red tie he wore to match your gown.

After Midnight, The Ball

Alexander Huntington’s Estate, Alexander’s Office

The ball was showing typical signs of a natural closing. Noble parties tended to extend into one in the morning, and typically the idle widows and daughters and mothers who were unimpressed with the ball’s bachelors started to take their leaves. The ballroom was still crowded, but there was a slight current of guests making their rounds of goodbyes and showing themselves to their waiting carriages.

You and Ciel waited outside of Alexander’s office— Sebastian finally alerted you that the businessman went to check on his clandestine belongings.

“Are you certain you want to come inside?” Ciel questioned. He didn’t think you could handle another violent scene after finding Amelie’s body, but you couldn’t imagine there was a worse sight than her lifeless eyes and mottled skin. Besides, this was your investigation as well, whether Ciel liked it or not.

“Yes.” You said. The air of finality around the single word was enough to make him stop looking at you cautiously.

“Mr. Huntington. I would like a word. It is Lord Phantomhive,” he said, knocking on the door twice as Sebastian settled down the hallway, a guard in the event Alexander became violent.

“Of course, my Lord. Enter by all means,” Alexander’s muffled voice responded. You listened for the light tap of the painting getting put back into place, the slight rustling of hastily thrown documents shifting behind the canvas once he hung it in its original spot.

“I need to speak to you about Eliza O’Malley,” Ciel said, never one to bother with pleasantries and formalities when he was investigating a person of interest. You knew that better than anyone, given the way he sternly told you to put on more clothes when you first met. He watched Alexander’s face, scanning every little nuance for hints of guilt or any noticeable emotion.

At the mention of the ballerina’s name, Alexander’s green eyes hardened, his arms crossing in front of his chest.

“Eliza O’Malley. I know her, unfortunately,” he replied gruffly, knowing better than to outwardly lie to Ciel. “She is a sly wagtail, isn’t she? I’ve never been more relieved to cut ties with someone.”

Alexander was using the present tense for her, and you couldn’t detect any manipulation in his words or body language.

“Cut ties? Care to explain why?” Ciel asked, but everyone in the room was well aware that it wasn’t a request. You could see the gears turning in his mind, attempting to piece together every minuscule detail you’ve managed to compile in the last several days up to this point. Alexander had been her only subscriber for the past six months— he wrote her checks until the week before her death. Presumably, he ended their relationship. Presumably, Eliza and most of the other murdered ballerinas were having sexual relationships with William Wood.

“I gave that—that…bitch everything,” Alexander spat, lowering his voice as it wavered with inundating emotion. “I paid for her townhouse, her pointe shoes, her meals…she was mine. She wasn’t supposed to—…” he took a long breath in with stammering difficulty. “She wasn’t supposed to go and be with some other man. It was a betrayal,” he spat, unshed tears shining in his eyes.

Ciel’s face darkened. You imagined yours did the same, eyebrows drawing inward, head tilted with uncertainty. Alexander must have found her with William. They were cavorting in her townhouse to avoid Natasha growing suspicious of William.

“She was just…supposed to be mine, do you understand?” Alexander shook his head, his shaggy brown tresses moving with the gesture. “It is an utter embarrassment for her to defile herself with someone else in the house I pay the rent for.”

“So you ended your patronage with her, when?” You cut in, growing weary of the man’s pathetic tears. His quivering voice. Everything about him was growing exhaustive, but it was his entitlement to Eliza’s body that most fueled your outrage the most.

“I-I…early September, I think. I have the last check I gave to her…” Alexander said, his estimation was consistent with the records you and Ciel found prior.

“Who did you find her with?” Ciel asked the edge in his voice causing you to suspect that he also presumed it was going to be Natasha’s husband.

“William Wood,” Alexander answered bluntly, verifying Violet’s claim. Of course— there was no need for her to lie. Eliza was her best friend, and they lived in that townhouse together. She was now a witness. “He was defiling my precious, innocent— Eliza…” he continued, adding to the bile that threatened to rise in your throat.

Alexander’s teary gaze cut back to yours. “Do you all do this to your sponsors? We don’t pay all of your bills and the foyer fees to have to share you with other men,” he asked. “You should keep a close eye on her, my Lord.”

“That is quite enough,” Ciel replied, as cold as a glacier. “You will not speak of her in such a manner. She may very well be the next Countess of Phantomhive.”

“Just because you’ve dressed her pretty, doesn’t mean she’s worth anything more than a common prostit— hey!” Alexander cried out, nursing his reddened cheek. Ciel wrung out his bare hand and slid his glove back over it, satisfied with the imprint he left on the man’s face.

“That will be your second and final warning, Alexander,” he stated. “When you speak of her in such a way, you are speaking of me all the same. You do know how I take to slander, do you not?”

You were desensitized to perhaps any hateful term one could level at you, but you couldn’t help but the satisfied grin that surfaced to your lips. Until now, you never had anyone fight for you. Leading up to this point, you were the only one in your corner. (Save for Natasha, perhaps, but she would always lead with the company’s best interest in mind.) You were accustomed to preserving your own dignity. No one had ever defended you with Ciel’s ferocity. It brought goosebumps to the exposed flesh of your arms.

“Apologize,” Ciel demanded, his statuesque features assembling the very picture of an immortal’s wrath. “This instant.”

When Alexander hesitated, Ciel flashed a small gun from the depths of his autumn jacket, causing you to gasp inadvertently. Your face grew warm, causing you to look away.

“I didn’t mean it, Miss Y/l/n!” Alexander’s words came hurriedly, his tears finally spilling down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, so sorry,” he whimpered desperately.

Ciel wore a Machiavellian grin. It was heartless. It was venomous, like a snake’s. “Do you forgive him, Y/n? Or shall we make him grovel some more?” He unlocked his pistol, causing both you and Alexander to tense.

Strangely, you weren’t afraid. Instead, you returned his relaxed expression and nodded. “Yes, I forgive him. I think we should finish our business here,” you answered snidely, watching Alexander tremble. There was a dark, yet potent, power that came with being on the Earl’s arm. It wasn’t a power you disliked. Perhaps, you were as twisted as the noble holding the gun.

“I agree,” Ciel said, hesitating to re-lock his gun as if he was sorry he couldn’t shoot the man. “I have one final question for you, Alexander,” he pocketed the pistol much slower than necessary, reminding the businessman how trivial his life was once again. “What did you do after you found Eliza and William together?”

Alexander wiped away any remaining tears and squared his posture, attempting to regain the confidence you and Ciel ripped away from him. “Um— I told some of my other friends who are subscribers. They should know what they’re paying for,” he said cautiously, wary that Ciel would hit him again for disparaging your name.

“You had no further contact with Eliza?” Ciel asked.

“Not at all. I haven’t seen her since that night,” Alexander shook his head rapidly. Somehow, you doubted the man could kill her. He was crying because of her betrayal— at least before Ciel terrified him— he still harbored some degree of love for her. “I heard she left the country because I’d told my inner circle and the rumor only spread from there.”

“She was found dead blocks away from her home a week after that incident,” Ciel informed him, all too stoic for the topic at hand. “Where were you on the night of September 15th?”

Alexander hesitated once more, before his face brightened with remembrance, though more tears welled in his eyes after hearing that Eliza was dead. An alibi. “The Theatre Royale in Manchester. A stage production of…Trilby. I think I still have my tickets, and the performers and stagehands can confirm that I was there. My wife loved the novel, so I arranged for a backstage tour for her!”

Ciel’s face was unchanged. “I expect confirmation of these claims within the next several days, and I want a list of the patrons you informed.”

“Look, whatever they might have done is not my fault…” Alexander started to say, but Ciel interrupted. At least he interrupted everyone — not just you. Even if it was na enourmously frustrating habit of his, amongst a number of others. You could name several of them: Ciel’s inability to be wrong, his commitment to never touching a surface that could have been grazed by a commonor’s hand, his insistence to remain as close to every rule as possible. He was as laced as straight and as tight as your bloody pointe shoes!

“You’ve done quite enough. Now if you wish to stay in business with a personal friend of mine, you will ensure that everything we have discussed this evening stays within this office. Am I understood?”

Another frustrating quality: Ciel’s habit of asking if he is understood. Yes, Ciel. You are next to always, understood. You rolled your eyes.

“Quite, my Lord,” Alexander nodded vigorously. He reminded you of a puppy— all too eager to please. “Have a lovely night, Miss Y/l/n,” he added as Ciel gestured for you to open the door and take your leave for the evening.

“Thank you for the ball,” you chirped over your shoulder.

Past Midnight

Ciel Phantomhive’s Estate, The Drawing Room

Your exhaustion began to seep into your bones. It was a culmination of your typical rehearsal time to prepare for The Nutcracker, your pre-performance warm-up class, that night’s Swan Lake performance, and the noble ball you attended, to say the least. That estimation didn’t account for your everyday stretching, the physical toil of becoming a butler’s live dress-up doll, or the emotional burden of such a long-winded day.

You couldn’t believe it wasn’t over. You should have known there would be a catch when Ciel invited you to spend the night at his estate— there was more work to be done.

Now, you sat across from one another, a chessboard sitting in the middle of you. A class of foreign pieces sat on your side of the board, the white set instead of the black, since Ciel claimed it. You looked at them blankly, having never played chess— much less seen such an ornate set of the board game. Selling it would likely give you enough money to pay your rent for the next several months.

“Ciel, I want to retire,” you moaned, taking a long drink from your green tea. Sebastian made it fresh and it still steamed from the kettle, but you didn’t mind the warm sensation as it soothed your tired throat. “I am exhausted.”

Everything was warm and comfortable at the Phantomhive estate. Your face was still flushed from the warm bath their clumsy maid, Mey-Rin, drew for you. You had never bathed without having to heat the water yourself and dump it into the bathtub until that night. (That morning?)

Even the nightgown they offered you was so silky, that you barely felt it around you. It was a soft baby pink with a large bow in the middle— proper sleepwear for a noblewoman— you presumed. Even so, you couldn’t help but feel partial to an oversized nightshirt and your drawers— even if it seemed to scandalize Ciel more than your leotards and tights.

“Let Maisie go on for you tomorrow, then,” Ciel suggested haphazardly, shrugging his shoulders. His hair was still wet from his bath— it dripped onto his white nightshirt. “We need to strategize. Make your turn,” he ordered, drinking his Earl Gray tea.

You stared at your pieces, forlorn. “I don’t know how…oh, fine,” you conceded, picking up the horse-shaped figure and moving it two spaces in front of the short piece that was in front of it.

“That is against the rules. The knight moves in an L shape, do you recall?”

“No,” you wrinkled your nose. The second Ciel began lecturing you about the complexities of each piece, you stopped listening. “I do not recall.”

Ciel rolled his eyes. “We just went over them, Y/n. I don’t think they can be any clearer.”

“Oh, you and your rules,” you mumbled. Despite the frustration on Ciel’s face, you made no effort to move your piece. “If your butler would serve me a good Quarts de Chaume as I originally requested, I might have more energy to play your childish game.” That particular dessert wine was a favorite of yours, made from Chenin Blanc grapes.

It would have paired perfectly with your poached peaches with crème anglaise, a light snack Sebastian had ready moments after you took your seat in the drawing room. He seemed to have caught on to your rather light way of eating and made a particular effort to make your small bowl contain more peaches than cream. There couldn’t have been more than a few teaspoons of the anglaise, but that hardly mattered. It was rich enough for a little to go more than a long way.

“Serving wine this late is inappropriate,” Ciel said boredly, “and it will only make you more tired.”

Technically, the correct terminology was: serving wine this early. But who was keeping track? Certainly not you.

“Being awake this late is inappropriate!” You complained instead, cutting a slice of peach in half with the side of your fork. “What is there to strategize? William is still in Paris.”

“Actually, Miss Y/l/n, I’ve just received word that his steamship has just docked,” Sebastian’s pleasant voice emerged from the open doorway. He pushed a small cart with more tea for you and his master, as well as an array of fruit-based desserts for Ciel to choose from.

“Would you care for more tea, Miss?”

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week's writer spotlight feature is: @maryofdoom! They have forty-four Stranger Things and forty-three Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson works on archive of our own!!

@mojowitchcraft recommends the following works by ArgentumCivitas:

Tessellation

Every Time: A Steddie Drabble Collection

Corroded Coffin - Live On Tour - One Night Only

He Carries Me Quietly

Higher Education

Mary is such a talented writer, I’ve enjoyed everything I’ve read by her. She’s an incredible story teller and very generous with brainstorming offering advice. - @mojowitchcraft

Below the cut, @maryofdoom answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

To quote Calvin, from Calvin and Hobbes, “I must obey the inscrutable exhortations of my soul.” But for real, though, it's because my bestie and writing partner called me up on Discord one night and said, “Mary, you need to watch the first episode of Season 4 of Stranger Things. Right now. I mean it. I think the show is in love with Eddie.” (…Some, shall we say, substances may have been involved.) However, I stick with it because I love both the boys as characters. I think they're interesting. They have a lot of interesting aspects about them to explore, both singly and together, and I think we're all enjoying that.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Mutual pining! Good God, give me so much pining that I think I’m in the forest. Give me so much pining that I need to use an oil-based paint on them. Give me so much pining that I’ll saw those two boys into planks and repanel my house. 

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

By far, it's when one of them has a crush on the other and is pissed off about it. There’s so much potential for sparky, interesting dialogue with other characters (and with each other) when the boys find themselves in that situation. And then it leads to interesting moments when they finally turn the corner and realize they’re not actually mad at the other one, they’re in love. 

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

There are so, so many that I love. But instead of giving you one of the big ones, let me share this gem: Love My Way, by dreamspaces. It’s very short, at only 1,346 words, but sometimes a bite is as good as a meal. 

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

It might be interesting to do something with “and they were roommates.” I haven’t truly messed around in that space, yet. I also haven’t done a proper enemies-to-lovers, either, mostly because I can’t stand to set up a proper enemy relationship at the beginning…but I am chewing on an idea at the moment that might necessitate that sort of opening relationship between them.

What is your writing process like?

 It tends to follow a very specific order of operations:

Get an idea from somewhere. Possible avenues for ideas include conversations with friends, news stories overheard from NPR, something that hits while I’m listening to music, posts on Reddit, anything that turns up from general blorbo rotation, the works.

Write down the idea in my notes app of choice (I use Evernote)

Begin adding more thoughts and concepts to the idea (sometimes even snips of dialogue, if they hit interesting)

Once the idea has reached a critical enough mass, transfer it to Google Docs and turn it into a draft (if it’s a one-shot idea) or an outline (if it’s a longfic idea)

FOR A ONE-SHOT: begin writing the draft

FOR A LONGFIC: begin writing the outline, according to the outlining method detailed in Tom Lennon and Ben Garant’s Writing Movies for Fun and Profit (this book is half how to make it as a screenwriter in Hollywood and half solid craft advice on how to write a screenplay, and though I don’t want to write screenplays and though I was very skeptical until I tried it out, this is the only method that has worked to get me to finish any actual novel-length works)

FOR A ONE-SHOT: when the draft is done, put it down for as long as I can and then come back to it and revise it, heavily, to make it better

FOR A LONGFIC: once the outline’s done, actually write the thing 

FOR A LONGFIC: once the thing’s written, put it down for as long as I can and then come back to it and revise it, basically rewriting it completely

FOR A LONGFIC: do the same thing again, and then again, pausing in between each iteration for as long as I can

FOR BOTH A ONE-SHOT AND A LONGFIC: once it’s to the point where I don’t hate it, get ahold of my bestie and writing partner and have her read it and crit it and tear it apart

(cry a little because her crit is probably right)

Implement the good changes and ignore the bad ones - sometimes we have a (good-natured) fight about which ones are which

Send it to my other writing friends for their thoughts and comments and incorporate those, in a similar fashion

Revise, again

Once it’s as done as it’s going to be, make a posting schedule (if it’s a longfic)

Get it out there, according to the posting schedule

Begin working on the next thing

Do you have any writing quirks?

I mean, I can sit here and say “Oh no, I definitely don’t,” but I’m sure that I do. I am sure I have a distinctive writing style, just as everyone else does, but I would have to defer to anyone who’s read multiple works I’ve written to pull out any specific “quirks.”I will note that I really try hard to get the characters’ voices down, in their dialogue. I don’t know that I always succeed, but I try.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Oh, a schedule, ABSOLUTELY. More power to those of you who post when you’re done writing, but I am the kind of person who needs to have everything DONE and ready to go before I put even a HINT of it up online. You can see this from my writing process. It doesn’t lend itself nicely to just throwing stuff out there as a work in progress. 

Which fic are you most proud of?

Oooh, good question. I would have to say it’s a tie between the next two fics on this list. Tessellation, because I worked really hard on it (and because I figured out work skins), and He Carries Me Quietly, because I think it’s beautiful. The way it ends still gets me, even now. Not just because of the action that happens, but because of the words that I chose. I read them and I’m like, “...I wrote that? Damn, girl.”

How did you get the idea for Tessellation?

I mention it a little in its ending note, but I got the idea for Tessellation from a couple of places, one of which was the Steddie fandom itself. I love the idea of every single one of these 25,000+ stories about Steve and Eddie all being true all at once. Even the story of Stranger Things itself, as we see it on our TV screens, is just one possible version of the story that’s happening somewhere. (I truly believe that. I didn’t become an extremely lapsed Catholic for nothing. HECK THE RULES.)

When writing Tessellation, what was something you didn’t expect?

It was surprisingly easy to make connections between the six stories. It wasn’t like I was hunting for places to jam them in—they ended up falling into place very naturally. And I think my favorite one of these is when Steve, in the space story, is describing the spaceship that he pilots as “Rusalka class, she’s a good swimmer,” to Eddie, who presumably understands what this means in the context of the sci-fi world in which they live. 

What inspired He Carries Me Quietly?

It started as something else entirely—a whole established-relationship fic with the kids coming over to Steve and Eddie’s (either house or apartment) to play D&D, with an arc about a blind Max being included as kind of an oracle or super-NPC through Eddie passing her index cards with Braille on them, so she could be part of the game when and if she wanted to be. The whole thing was supposed to be told in flashbacks. I had a whole scene where Steve was figuring out how to bake cookies for everyone with whatever meager ingredients he had on hand. …Then it took a hard left into religious trauma, through some meandering means.  I guess it would be reasonable to say the inspiration, at that point, was seeing a tweet on then-Twitter with some speculation about how Eddie had come to live with Wayne. If it was the common (and unfortunate) queer-kid arc of being disowned by one’s parents. And then I thought, “Let’s go ahead and put Steve through that too, but let’s do it several years after it happens to Eddie, so that Steve has someone to guide him through the whole process.”

What was your favorite part to write from He Carries Me Quietly?

I think it was probably the opening, because of the rhythm of the sentences and how the sounds fit together with one another. I mean, if you choose to check it out, try reading the first few paragraphs out loud. It’s kind of what I think of when people talk about how writing has a cadence, or a musicality to it.  That, and the ending. The ending, starting with, “There’s one more thing that Steve wants to know,” was one of those things that just fell perfectly into place. I can see it so clearly in my mind: the two of them having a conversation, late at night in bed together, after a traumatic day. 

How do/did you feel writing Higher Education?

I love this goofy little story! It was part of a Discord server gift exchange in 2022 and my recipient said “College AUs are my jam,” so this is where my mind went. I wanted to consider a world where Eddie was the frat boy, instead of Steve. But if that were the case, the fraternity would have to be a pretty non-traditional one, wouldn’t it? The fictional Lambda House is based heavily on the fraternity house where I used to hang out in college. (It was at an engineering school and was populated entirely by nerds.)

What was the most difficult part of writing Higher Education?

The actual writing itself, honestly. Winter 2022 was a really difficult time for me, personally, and though I signed up for the fic exchange with all optimism and good wishes, it was a struggle to get everything done in time. 

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

One that really stands out to me is from Wrong Number, which was a oneshot I wrote based on a short conversation with some Discord friends. Picture it: Eddie and Jonathan and Argyle are all hanging out in the basement, and they’re all extremely high. Argyle, in his own way, can sense that something is wrong with Eddie. In order to get him to confess to whatever’s on his mind, they reference the pact they made that “anything said in the basement stays in the basement. It’s the law of the basement.” That just hits me as something so quintessentially Argyle. 

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Oh my, yes! I have two longfics in the pipeline that I hope to be sharing with everyone soon (or, well, as soon as I can get them through my Process). The Music of the Spheres is a Regency AU with a smoldering slow burn and an eventual happily-ever-after, while Home for the Holidays is a genre mashup: Steve’s in a Hallmark Christmas romance and Eddie’s in a psychological thriller. I am also rotating a couple more ideas in my brain that could potentially be longer works as well, but we’ll see how those go.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

I think the esteemed and prolific two-time-Hugo-Award-nominee Dr. Chuck Tingle puts it very nicely when he says: “CREATE. BUILD. EXPRESS. CONQUER THE LYING VOICE THAT SAYS YOUR TECHNICAL PERFECTION IS BETTER THAN TRUTH OF THE MOMENT. FILL THE VOID WITH ART and do not fear because weve got your back buckaroo. we are ALL creators in our own way so LETS HECKIN CREATE.” Let’s heckin’ create, buckaroos. I’ll see you out there in the word mines.

Thank you to our author, @maryofdoom, and our nominator, @mojowitchcraft! See more of @maryofdoom's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[chubbydino]

the WGA strike & my future as a writer

cazio here. hey. maybe you’ve noticed my chapter updates slowing down over the past few months. you also may have heard me talking about being unemployed. how do those two correlate? i’ve spent the past month in a state of so much stress & anxiety i can’t focus on anything, that’s how. 

the writer’s strike/impending SAG strike (read: studio greed) is having a ripple effect on everyone in film. non-union employees (like me) are suddenly looking at potentially being jobless until 2024 with no union to help us. the singular emergency relief fund for non-union workers in entertainment won’t let us apply for aid until our bank statements prove there aren’t enough funds to pay the bills--and our request could still be denied.

as a freelancer, i typically have 6 months of savings ready to go. now i’m looking at 8 months of unemployment due to the timing of my last job ending. 

in a perfect world, i would write fanfic for a living. but all of us fandom folks know it’s illegal to profit off of fanfic. 

however, i do plan to be a full time writer someday. i’m in the process of finishing up the second draft of my first commercial manuscript to get published, but even if i get an agent tomorrow, it will be at least a year before i see anything come of that. 

i’m starting work on another manuscript to have ready to go when the time comes--in fact, i’m converting phantoms and pencil marks into an original work called Phantom Pains. this means character and story changes that will bring new insight and new scenes & storylines to readers, even those who read the fanfic version (as in 50k words of more content). 

i will be posting the first draft of the new original story chapter by chapter, exclusively on my ko-fi for my supporters. 

Phantom Pains Summary & Info

Phantom Pains Chapter 1 (for supporters only)

click here to support me on ko-fi. (the membership tier names should be familiar lol)

if you don’t care about an original work, that’s fine. i get it--fanfic is special because we all know the characters involved. i have a maxiel fanfic outline and a piarles outline in the pipeline for when FG and MIATT are finished, but right now those chapter updates are excruciatingly slow, since every time i sit down at my laptop i’m faced with either writing a story for fun or applying to corporate jobs in the worst job market since 2008 (lol). 

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[talesofsorrowandofruin]

The Great OC Alphabet Caper: Deceit Edition

(Credit to @sleepyowlwrites for this idea)

For characters introduced in the other books, see these posts: The Unfortunate Moth • Silver Glass • Mine Eyes Dazzle • There Stands a Spectre • The Tempest and the Night

Characters who first appeared in Houses Full of Deceit, in alphabetical order:

Ji-hun

Name: An Ji-hun (안 지훈)

Age/Pronouns: 30s(?), he/him

Brief physical description: Look at Lee Dong-wook in Strangers From Hell, imagine him in 1910s clothes, and you've got Ji-hun:

Brief list of defining traits: Complete monster. The sort of person who kills children, cuts off fingers, and hunts detectives across the world.

Excerpt:

"I was hired to kill that family. I found out they were related to you, so I thought it would be fun to hunt you down too." Yo-han tried to wrap his mind around this. "So you chased me for months… for fun?" An's smile returned. It was almost like talking to someone with a comedy mask tied to their face. "This was the most fun I've had in years. I'm almost sorry to kill you." His finger moved. Yo-han ducked. An shifted his aim to follow. The problem with actors was that they had an irritating tendency towards the melodramatic. Even worse, it was contagious. If Yo-han had been consulted, he would have asked for reinforcements before the nick of time. Unfortunately he hadn't been consulted. Fortunately the nick of time did just as well. Phil flung the dining room door open. She aimed her gun at An. "Drop it!" An started. He pulled the trigger. The bullet buried itself in the floorboard at his feet.

Trivia:

He started out as a minor character in Like Snow on Hungry Graves. I had to cut his subplot, then decided to reuse his character in a completely different setting. (How different? Well, apart from the fantasy versus realistic settings, in TCOSYH he's by far the worst character to appear on-page. In LSOHG, he would have shared most of his scenes with two characters who are worse.)

He gets killed off very abruptly for such a major villain. This is because of several plot changes. The denouement was supposed to happen in Scotland, for example, and the lead-up to his death would have taken an entire chapter

His surname is a reference to South Korean actor Ahn Nae-sang, and his personal name is a reference to Ji-hoon/Ji-hun from Psychopath Diary

Avington

Name: Timothy Avington

Age/Pronouns: 40s, he/him

Brief physical description: No specific description

Brief list of defining traits: Tries to start a war for fun and profit (his own, obviously). Arranged the Hastings murders because Mr. Hastings found out too much about his plan. Gets killed off in record time

Excerpt:

The Avington family had prided themselves on living in the most fashionable district in London. Unfortunately, that had been before people started asking awkward questions like "How could you afford those jewels when they cost more than your husband's yearly salary?". Now they had to content themselves with a modest house in an unfashionable district. Timothy Avington hated it. Something had gone wrong with his plans ever since Hastings confronted him. Hastings was dead now, but the bloody fool of an assassin just had to kill the wife and children too. Now the Japanese had lost interest in his scheme. His friend Jeong was suspected of taking bribes. He felt like he was living in a house of cards about to collapse around him. It was a sunny day in early May when the collapse came.

Trivia:

I got his surname from a name generator. His first name is borrowed from one of my relatives

The main change I'm planning for the second draft: giving him more to do! As it is he appears out of nowhere then dies

Mrs. Hastings

Name: Seo Eun-a (서 은아), Una Hastings (adopted name)

Age/Pronouns: 40s, she/her

Brief physical description: None

Brief list of defining traits: Never appears because she and her family are killed in the prologue. Yo-han's cousin

Excerpt: None

Trivia:

Another change I'm planning for the second draft: she'll appear at least once before her death

She's mentioned in passing in Mine Eyes Dazzle (where she's alive and well, because it's a prequel)

Mr. Jeong

Name: Jeong Dong-sik (정 동식)

Age/Pronouns: 50s, he/him

Brief physical description: None

Brief list of defining traits: Avington's co-conspirator. Tries to kill Yo-han. Never actually appears but is presumed to have died off-screen

Excerpt: None

Trivia:

His personal name is a reference to Dong-sik from Psychopath Diary

Another change I'm planning for the second draft: he'll actually appear. I'm hoping to have him and Avington both killed by Ji-hun, which would be very fitting (but hard to work out when they're on different continents...)

Adding the general Case-files taglist: @akindofmagictoo, @sam-glade, @sarahlizziewrites, @oh-no-another-idea, @cljordan-imperium,

@mrbexwrites, @lightgriffinsect (Let me know if you want to be added/removed!)

[igotsnothing]

I would love to see your backstage of making your vampire story <3 how you take your photos, chose perspectives, plan dialogues. please tell about your process

Hello, Friend of Mystery!!

Happy New Year and thank you for this ask! I'm a very small-time simmer in this corner of the interwebz filled with really talented and artistic simblrs, so I appreciate the question and interest!

Now, backstage! The method to the madness!

I usually have an idea: it's a loose- general idea of the direction and mood of the plot and dialogue. I don't like to be too specific unless I have a clear pose in mind for a scene. The thought process might be something like, "Lawrence and Julian are going to have a talk about vampires and technology in this scene, but act flirty with each other while they do so."

I go into the game to organize the setting and choose outfits/props. MCCC and Wonderful Whims are game-changers for posing. I'm a terrible builder, so I end up spending a lot of time browsing the gallery or searching for builds and objects by skilled folks. That part is often fun. Imagining the potential of lots and cc is a big part of gaining admission to the mental asylum expressing creativity in this game! Depending on the story I am working on, I may have mods like Underworld running to make sure it always looks like nighttime in my environments.

I use Reshade. It saves me time when editing and gives the images lovely depth, shading, and coloring that otherwise isn't there. I use different presets that I screw around with and tweak, but some favorites are Marigold and Senshi 4.0. Shadows and lighting are super important and can make or break a scene.

Once I have my image, I'll tweak it in Photoshop. Thanks to Reshade, it's usually just to quickly fix something, like clipping or rough edges.

I use Canva to organize my stories and write in the dialogue, but that's always dangerous because my inner middle-schooler wants to unleash a million stickers everywhere and ruin the edits. Ask me how many times I've stuck googly eyes on Lawrence and cackled at my own idiocy ingenuity!

I write while I am taking pictures. The sequence is: pose, take the picture, edit the image, write, and on to the next scene. I used to take all the images first and write afterward but found that sometimes a pose or screenshot would unexpectedly convey a different take on an idea, reaction, or character- or even inspire a different direction for the dialogue in a scene. It's easier for me to adapt the dialogue to an image than vice versa. I feel that writing as I go, while my game is open and ready gives me more flexibility and freedom to make changes.

???

Profit!

Ok, now-sorry- for real. I download everything, usually save it as a draft, wait a bit to see if I catch any big mistakes, and then post.

I actually struggle with serious self-doubt and a really mean inner critic, so posting here has been an exercise in self-acceptance. Still, I often avoid checking the notifications for a while after I post because I am that nervous. But I'm happier for sharing my stuff rather than not since I have had the chance to connect with so many fun and talented people here!

That's it!

Thank you for the ask on this first day of the year! It made me super happy! All the best to you!! ❤️

[petorahs]

Hi! Hope you're doing well. I really like the way your art looks, and wanted to ask if you have any advice on how to stop the endless ctrl+Zing that happens when you're doing lineart? (Was gonna post a gif showing it but it won't let me send links in asks) -- Have a good one o/

hey! i'm very glad to hear you like my art and even more that you'd ask for my advice! :D

me and lineart go waaay back... that is to say i liked doing it more than any other thing in the art process. i hate coloring and still do. lineart my beloved... but also, these days as my art evolved i stopped doing actual ""Clean"" lineart anymore. what you see in my more recent works are essentially the first and only "line draft" or sketch layer so to speak? i just spend a lot of time refining it. and this is how i do that:

duplicate + merge layers to achieve your desired lineweight and erase as needed!

also important to note is as much as i talk about drawing/lining/sketching on a single layer... if the drawing isnt working i will just do it the "traditional" way and make a whole new layer and start from there :0 if that is your preferred way then set the sketch to 10-15% opacity max... makes it so the finished lineart wont look "worse than the sketch"...!!

what else... hm i feel like my lineart game changed when i found a brush i liked. i currently use derwent, a default procreate brush under 'pencils' i think? to get that sketchy yet yummy thin at the end look. but i also change my brushes every time i feel like im in a 'slump'. experimentation is key! get curious and curiouser on what u can achieve with different mediums.

additionally, if you're looking for advice on achieving "line confidence" (like lack of ctrl+z-ing your problems away) then thats a whole other thing. what i find to have best helped me is essentially just doing what this video tells u to and profitting!! i realized ive been doing it for years as a kid just emulating my fav fanarts and yeah. ofc there's more i can say but this is getting long enough, feel free to shoot another ask and i can expand!

as always with art though, feel free to also break these rules as you see fit! :D have fun

[whetstonefires]

this is very much from nowhere but you've HAD skip beat! thoughts before and i am rereading parts of this nonsense and i am having thoughts. primarily, i think skip beat! would be improved by aging all the characters up like 10 years but keep key ages the same. e.g. kyoko meeting kuon whenthey were 6 and 10 respectively, her and sho going to tokyo at 16 etc. the introduction of vie ghoul rings a bit hollow when sho has only been famous 1 years, but if he's a properly established idol who is aging out of the circuit, you get complexity. the dark moon arc doesn't have the same punch since forbidden love and everything but that's easily adjusted for aged up characters. these thoughts are presented by the fact that i keep forgetting they are 16/17 and 20.

I HAVE ANSWERED THIS ASK THREE TIMES. SEVERAL HOURS OF EFFORT HAVE BEEN DELETED BY VARIOUS TECHNICAL FOIBLES. i used to highlight-all-copy long posts as I went for safety (this was imperfect) but the new block-based text editor doesn't allow it....

So short version of this answer now, you're probably better off this way without all my in-depth rambling textual analysis haaladksklask;dlk. Like, you're losing some fun content but hey third draft right. Condensed essence of idea.

So, I don't at all mind being spontaneously tagged in on something like this! :D But sadly, I must disagree. I don't think that would work.

First there are practical points, where I think you're underestimating how much the idol industry is a child-munching horror, and how having someone debut in her late 20s would be nonsense--that's Christmas cake, she's an old maid. Teenagers only. The basic career-arc expectations that give the plot its rough shape don't wash.

And then if Shou's career had been at this level for 10 years--he's been consistently chart-topping for months, inspired to new creative heights by his rivalry with Kyoko--he'd be the icon of a generation, and plagiarizing him would be a totally different ballgame. He'd have some measure of institutional power, instead of everyone expecting him to flame out any moment now anyway. (The Beagles could still run that con, the calculus would just look different.)

He is utterly disposable to his owners, right now; he's profitable but they haven't invested that much in him. He's already gotten further than anyone is expected to, especially without loads of nepotism. He's not aging out of performing at all, but people are in fact counting down to his expiration date as a wild success as a singer-songwriter, which is what Vie Ghoul threaten to bring upon him.

But more importantly in character terms, I think our leads absolutely have to be the ages they are--like, Ren was clearly only made 20 for Age Gap Reasons lol, but all his development since has leaned on it in such a way he'd become incoherent if he were more than like 2 years older, at this point.

When the personality under the persona starts to surface, a lot of him is still basically a precocious teenager, because he hasn't been living as a whole person since before the breakdown. But he has been living. The longer he'd been doing that, the more profound his alienation from Kuon would be, and that would change the arc.

He's only been Ren for about five years. He's left that kid behind but he's also only just stopped being a kid, really.

The difference between how you look back on and hate yourself at 15 when you're 20, versus when you're 30.......

And then, if Kyoko had lost twelve years to Shou, somehow not being discarded or figuring it out that whole time, and was now facing the world at 26 with nothing to her name but long-ingrained habits of service and self-abnegation and dozens of minimum-wage jobs from which she saved nothing because it all went to Shou, that would be much more bleak.

Do you know what it's like to be 26 and ruined, and to know you did this to yourself?

This jousei version is going to have a hard time not being about either 1) actual physical murder or 2) the grieving process for yourself as a preliminary to self-reinvention.

Kyoko absolutely does the latter in canon, but it works differently folded into a coming-of-age narrative. Bildungsroman for a woman in her late 20s whose formal education ended at age 14 getting out of an emotionally abusive relationship could be a really moving and meaningful work, but it couldn't be this story.

The thing is, this is a manga about trauma, especially childhood trauma, and its role in identity. Kyoko and Ren are both going through their arcs from the context of the very very weird and uneven development process that happens as a result of 'neglect' and 'parental fuckery' and 'bullying' and 'isolation' and 'child labor.'

They had very different experiences! Ren's parents adore him. But Shou's parents loved Kyoko too; it wasn't enough to make up for everything else.

Kyoko is super mature and hypercompetent in some areas and has huge developmental deficits in others. We are introduced to the traumas underlying this fairly quickly, for the most part, although detail kept unfolding for a very long time, and at the same time we watched her go through stages of self-recognition and acceptance, and start to heal. A huge part of this has been nurturing and honoring her inner child.

Ren, we come to see over time, has a lot of the same shit it's just subtler, and he has a much harder time unpicking it. Partly because of who he is as a person--a good liar for one thing--partly because Kyoko started off with a big burst of rage at an external target to launch herself forward and discard a lot of her repression habits in one go, while the main person Ren hates is himself.

(Remember their first conversation when he went off on her, totally breaking persona only we didn't know him yet to know it? I need to reread that again, it's been a while. But from what we know now it sure looks like he saw his younger self in her, and since he's fucked up this led to lashing out. Which was one of the most genuine human interactions he'd had in possibly years by then!)

Partly because he's older. Four years is not generally a whole lot when it's 26 to 30, but from 16 to 20 there's a big shift in plasticity of character, and he just spent his late adolescence cramming himself into a Tsuruga Ren mold only to realize there are limits to the efficacy of this coping mechanism and he's hitting them.

Due specifically to work, and the specific expectations of adulthood! Which, talk about realism wrt mental health struggles around age 20, oof.

Anyway yeah I think the age gap influences their relationships to their child-selves in ways that have been vital to their character developments and how they've influenced each other through them, which would make no sense if they were ten years older.

Would it be Less Problematic? I mean, yeah, but it also would lose the psychological realism that is, perhaps bizarrely, very present in this wildly stylized comedy workplace romance about acting and the processing of trauma.

Kyoko's characterization would be rife with insulting infantilization if she was approaching 30, but in fact she is A Teenager and this is exactly how she should be; it's a sign of health.

Honestly I just think a lot of the shit these characters do only makes sense because they are or recently were teenagers. The intensity of teenage emotions....like Kyouko's whole poltergeist phenomenon, that's classically adolescent for a reason. Shou being in the process of realizing that his shitheadery was like, actually bad; much more acceptable at 17 than 27.

They'd all be weirdly stunted individuals at ten years older, and just much weirder people than they already are. The whole cast can't be Takarada Rories there needs to be some variation lmao.

[popculturebuffet]

Batmarch Finale: Batman (1989) Review: At Long Last Joker Dancing on Parade Float

Hello all you happy batpeople and it's time for the finale of Batmarch! It's been a fun ride that really made me love the character again and it ends here with something i've been wanting to do since the start of this blog: IT's time to talk about Tim Burton's Batman, the 1989 classic blockbuster that created the first superhero movie boom, solidified the caped crusader as a dark brooding vigilante in the public eye, and gave us not one but two iconic scenes of joker dancing to prince music that live rent free in my head forevermore.

Batman took almost a decade to get going, with Producer Micheal Uslan, a comic book historian who taught a succesful course on comics as literature, wanting to take batman back to his earlier days as a mysterious figure of darkness. His timing was great as by the late 70's when he started his crusade for the caped crusader, Batman had been on a course back to those very roots thanks to the works of Neil Adams and Denny O'Neil. Comic fans ate up a darker batman and Batman returned to being a creature of the night.

The problem was for most audiences.. he was a creature of camp. While I adore the Adam West Batman, i'm honestly shocked i've only covered ONE episode of that gloriously goofy series, it left a mark on the character, with everyone assuming "Well that's what batman is". It's a common trait in comic book adaptations: TV and Movies reach a wide audience. It's why most people think Scott Summers is a plank of wood instead of a tatctical genius with a lot of baggage.

Thus studios either flat out rejected them or wanted a comedy in the vein of the adam wast show. Or rejected it for reasons like "It would be called Batman and Robin and we just had a film with robin in the name tha tbombed" or "It and Annie are both "from the funnie" pages and Annie just bombed (yet did INCREDIBLY well on home video)"

Thankfully the film got rescued as, with John "Giant Mechanical Spider Peters" getting on board, he suggested they do what they did with superman: promote the hell out of the film and the script they had and hope someone buys into the hype. Sure enough it worked as Warner Bros picked up the film and to my suprise they already owned DC Comics, the rights simply got sold off for the reasons film rights to properties often do

So Warner was eager to get the property back in house and profit off it.

With that it was time for a full script by Tom Mankiewicz who based it largely on Steve Englehart and Marshall Rogers short but memorable run on Detective Comics I wasn't aware of till doing research for this review, but now happily own. Rogers was even brought on to do concept art. The script went through NINE revisions according to wikipedia, but all were based largely on tom's original. Directing wise Joe Dante and Wes Craven were both considered and i'd loved to see what their version of the film would've been like. Ivan Reitman also was, but wanted a comedy starring billl murray with the studio eyeing eddie murphy for robin.

Thankfully the success of Pee Wee's Big Adventure lead Warner Bros to go with their new golden boy, who was just coming off production of another soon to be hit, Beetlejuice, Tim Burton, pictured here looking like Batman's goth best friend he takes in the batmobile to get him out of the house.

I'd pay so much to see that version of this movie.

Burton wasn't a comic fan , but upon getting the project was a fan of recent hits The Dark Knight Returns and The Killing Joke, and was fascinated with what batman could be. Meanwhile Warner brought in Englehart himself to make a draft. Burton then brought in Sam Hamm, a rookie screenwriter and HUGE fan of the character who quickly proved to be the perfect fit, tightening up the screenplay: he removed Robin (something no one was sad about as he was a studio mandate), replaced Silver St Cloud (Bruce's love intrest during the Englehart Run) and Rupert Throne with Vicki Vale and Carl Grissom and the script was set.

So casting began. After a number of more traditional leads were considered, Burton went with Micheal Keaton at the suggestion of Peters, who felt Keaton has the tortured quality batman needed. It was a great call as he fit both sides: he was stoic and comanding as batman, but as bruce was perfectly absentminded, as if he was far away, yet still charastmatic and likeable. It was a good contrast and also made it easy to see why no one suspect this guy was batman.

Unfortuantely the fans.. were not pleased. Yes even then peopl ewere liable to throw hands over casting decisions before seeing them proper. I've not been imune to this: I liked Ben Affleck but wasn't sure he fit batman, only to be proven wrong when he was easily one of the saving graces of Batman V Superman and it's regretful he couldn't be batman in a better movie.

Fans worried that Keaton , who up to this point had mostly been in comedies, meant the film would be camp like the tv series and film again, to the point this MADE HEADLINES. The studio even breifly considered reasting, but burton held firm.

If your curious other actors considered were Pierce Brosnan (who had no intrest in doing a comic book movie), Mel Gibson (dodged a bullet there), Kevin Costner, Charlie Sheen (Another bullet dodged, too much tiger blood to be a bat man), Tom Selleck, Harrison Ford and Dennis Quaid. None of these really.. feel right, and it's burton's first choice before realizing Keaton was it , the green goblin himself Willam Dafoe, that woul'dve worked with what he was going for. None of these actors are bad, even sheen and gibson are good actors just..awful human beings, they just don't fit the part. Sheen in paticular feels like the worst timeline and I pity the earth that got saddled with frat bro batman.

Naturally every hero needs a good villian and while another row of talent was considered, the studio and Peters heavily pushed for Jack Nicholson over other competiors such as Brad Douriff, Tim Curry, and David Bowie, all versions of this film i'd LOVE to see in some other timeline. That said Nichelson was the perfect choice.

How they finally nailed him down is my faviorite story I found from the documentary: So Nicholson was open to it, liking the part but to lock it down wanted them to meet him for horseback riding. Burton , nature's perfect indoor kid, was naturally deeply uncomfortable on a horse and i'd pay good money to get the picture they claimed existed of Tim Burton on a horse with Jack Nicholson. I find it fascinating in of itself that Jack Nicholson rides horses and has a deep love of horses. That's a thing that fits, but just never occured to me. The most uncomfortbale horse ride ever netted him the part and Nicholson trusted burton completely on set and spoke highly of him in the documentary.

The final main cast addition came due to , of all the possile reasons, a horse riding accident. No it wasn't tim burton himself, but Sean Young, who'd been cast as Bruce's reporter love intrest Vicky Vale and had to bow out, replaced by Kim Bassinger.

Rounding out the cast we have Robert Whul as local reporter and only one digging into this batman case Knox, Cool School owner and operator Billy Dee Williams as Harvey Dent, Pat Hingle as Comissioner Gordon, acting legend Jack Palance as crime boss and the joker's boss Carl Grissom, and Tracey Walter as Joker's NUMBER. ONE. GUY. Bob.

Promotion for the film was something unique. Nowadays we're used to big, omnipresent ad blitzes with our blockbusters, a huge swath of adds to let you know THIS FILM'S A COMIN. YOU CANNOT ESCAPE THIS FILM. I DON'T CARE IF YOUR AMBVILENT ABOUT ARTHUR AND THE KING YOU WILL GET 20 ADDS FOR IT JACOB. THE HYPE MACHINE HATH SPOKEN.

To start Jon Peters helped cut a teaser trailer, wanting to get SOMETHING out to show that no, this wasn't going to be like the Adam West show stop calling me about it dennis. The trailer was only a minute and a half, had no music behind it, something I only found out, and is clearly just whatever clips they had that were ready. You can find it here. It's throughly intresting.

It also.. works. While it's only a short teaser, it gets across what this film is, shows both joker and batman enough to get hyped, all while not spoiling the film. Granted they probably didn't have enough footage yet TO do that but still, it's a well done teaser with only one or two bits feeling like their just.. thrown in there and given the time crunch to get this in front of a teast audence, I can salute that it's still works.

And it worked MASSIVELY. People bought tickets JUST to see this teaser, bootlegs of it sold like hot cakes. It was meant to get people hyped up for what this film actually was.. and it DID, erasing doubts Keaton wasn't batman and showing people just what they were getting.

Warner then went all in promoting the hell out of this film, to the point Marvel's she hulk did a parody of this where a new super heroine does a simliar add blitz: There was cereal, tiger games, merchandising of all kinds. It was a huge gamble as if the film failed to live up to the hype... it'd be a joke NOTHING could live down, would sink the careers of everyone involved from production on down, and possibly destroy warner.

Naturally though.. it didn't. The gamble paid off. It's almost like if you actually RELEASE a film and have faith in the creators, you'll make money. The film was a massive success leading to three more films in this series and a mind boggling 11 theatrical and 60+ total films JUST starring the batman. That's not getting into team movies.

So join me under the cut as we see if , after 35 years of excellence, this film still lives up to the hype in a genre now packed with classics.

Bat Class and Bat Style:

Starting out with the style of the film, it can't be overstated the sheer impact this film had on Gotham city as a place. Before this it was mostly a standard city, just more of a crime hole than most. It was weird reading some of that very Steve Englehart run I mentioned and seeing Gotham. .as a pretty standard metropolis, if not obviously THE metropolis.

Batman is where , to my shock, Gotham was first portrayed as this art deco 40's style hellscape, a city of old buildings with the crime built into it's very foundations: a city of frequent nights, heavy shadows and plenty of places for an up and coming here ot perch and brood. It's an atmosphere that almost feels consuming: you can't escape gotham and it won't let you. It's a monster as much of a city. Batman the Animated series would build on this, making this what gotham was: a city with it's dark history seeped into it's stone that feels massive and endless, like no matter how much batman does the city is almost too big for him to ever fully save.

The rest of the style is after the 40's, a nice nod to batman premiering JUST before they started in 1939. We have large flashes on the cameras, reporters in suits the like.

I also realized this wasn't just a cool style choice, it's a thematic one: Most of Gotham wears these types of clothes, fitting with how Gotham is: a city with a long proud history.. but one it finds itself stuck in. A lot of those men in suits are either helpless goverment types who WANT to make things better but can only do so much like Gordon or Dent, or outright corrupt men like the various mob bosses who control it from the shadow. Even Knox , who tries to go for the scoop, is stuck in the old behaviors of sexisim, hitting on his photographer and creative partner vicki a lot nad being a possesive dick about her romance when it's none of his damn buinsess.

The people who may actually change this city are the ones who come off more with the time: Bruce most of the time wears looser suits or , in one scene casual clothes. The one time he dosen't is to fit in at his own party, to blend in so well Knox and Vale don't even notice he was behind them for a whole scene. When he's himself he's awkward, but also kind and charming. When he's his truest self batman he's calm, intmidating and of course dressed in a lot of rubber. He dosen't fit with Gotham.. but by doing so he can change it for the better.

Vicki is diffrent, fitting in a bit better but her hair and styles tend more toward practical, often wearing her glasses which look neat. Wish I had a pair like that. She brushes off Knox's comments, dosen't want anyone taking ownership of her and rightly calls bruce out for ghosting her (Granted he's also right ot try and get her to stop for one minute so he can tell her she's batman). She's trying to change it more by simply finding the batman, but it's still someone diffrent.

Finally we have the Joker, who stylistically dosen't deviate greately as jack.. but once he becomes something else, he changes. he wears the suit sure... but it's a bright purple with a giant boutiner. He wears makeup, but it's barely covering and by the time of the art heist there more for a joke than actual cover. His attempts to fit in are really more a joke than an actual attempt. Napier never really fit in... he simply stopped putting on the pretense once he became the joker.

Joker's moderness also comes through in othe rways; his biggest scheme heavily involves the rise of cosmetics and the television, using his then modern Smilex adds to stow paranoia. He vandalizes classic art for funsies to a dope prince song. And for his final masterstroke he captalizes on the greedhead nature of the 80's: he correctly figures if you throw enough money at people they'll forgive anything, and throws a ton of money into the crowd in the film's best scene, capering and hamming it up as he prepares to kill them all by luring them into one place. It's telling that the only two places in the film itself Prince's songs show up are with the Joker, who embodies the excess of the 80's while still having his classic 40's born design.

And since we're talking about him...

The Devil in the Pale Moon Light

Nicholson's joker is fantastic. I wasn't big on him for a long time.. but I realized on rewatch it wasn't the performance. Nicholson fucking nails it, having that manic energy hid with a genial calm that makes a good joker to me, that sort of charisma where you geninely can't tell if you'll end the scene as his NUMBER. ONE. GUY. or with a bullet in the belly. He's hammy as hell when he wants to be, deathly calm when he wants to be, and the only one who truly understands himself always.

Nicholson's joker strikes me as a mad Performanceartist, an interpretation I like: his jokes are carefully crafted pieces always done for a terrified audience of some kind. Only one of his kills or crimes post putting a smile on that face dosen't have an audience, Grissom, and he STILL puts on a show for him, shooting him to opera music while giggling like a mad man. Every other crime is a big show, which isn't inconsitant for joker. Every joker has theater kid tendencies, this joker is just the one who has the most thespian energy.

His schemes are also fantastic, props to Burton and the writers: their the right mix of operartic performance art and ghastly crime. From defacing a museum for the attention, to the utterly brillaint smilex ad which parodies the hell out of 80's ad trends and is one of the best joker scenes in media, perfectly capturing his sort of scheme, this versions love of a good performance, and the time it was in. The poor editing and his "Chances are you already own some" and the laugh after.. it's genius. Every piece is great. I also love the pen stabbing which I didn't really pay much attention to before but the mimes, the awesome as hell outfit, the "Uncle bingo" line.. it's so damn fun and the mundanety of the stabbing, feather quill or not makes it a shocker

The two best though are the ones embeded on my mind from childhood to present day: THe art scene is awesome and I love the way he says lawrence, with him just getting into general dicking around shenanigans because it's fun, saving a picture because it's horrifying. I also love his dickish "date" with vicky where he just calls all her glamour photo's crap. You can tell Jack Nicholson is loving EVERY second of this. Granted who wouldn't love grooving to Party Man, which is a truly awesome song. Prince didn't half ass it for this album and while his inclusion is a clear studio mandate Tim Burton didn't seem enthused about in the documentary, Burton still made it work perfectly. It's really hard to not make prince work granted, but it's still flawlessly used.

My faviorite scene of the film though... is Trust aka "Jack nicholson fucking destroys while riding on a blimp" Those hand moves, his expressions, bob and lawrence's grins as they throw money, the banger that is Trust behind him. While Partyman is good and really fits Joker, Trust is a fun banger jam that fits the party atmosphere of Joker's final gambit. The sight of joker throwing money everywhere while mugging is just.. peak joker and one of the best moments of the character and in superhero cinema period.

While Nicholson's joker is mostly celebrated there are two big points of contention, two elephants in the room to tackle.

The first is the fact we get Joker's name at all, that we know anything about him before he became joker as a huge part of his mystique is being this mysterious murder clown who just.. fell in a vat one day and that's all we know before he started chasing batman.

I prefer his past to be a mystery, it adds to the charm and the terror of this guy... but on this watch I felt the Jack Napier version still really works. Nichson does a good job making both Jack and Joker feel like two very diffrent people: Jack was a fairly unambitious hood who WANTED to run everything, but had no real plans for it, content to screw the bosses mistress and be done with it. It's easy to buy into corrupt cop Eckhart's view Jack has no future.. because he didn't. The second Grissom found out what he was doing, he set Jack up to die. Jack ONLY escapes ace chemicals alive due to pure luck: Gordon got informed in time to take over and stop a potetial execution and Bob turned out to be the best guy ever and held said Gordon hostage to get batman to let Jack go. And even then Jack's own impulsiveness nearly killed him, falling into the vat. He's ONLY alive because of sheer luck and knowing a good back alley doctor using tools he got from a dentist who mysteriously died a few decades back.

Jack is an impulsive trainwreck.. the joker.. is Jack with all his inhibitions stripped.. and tha'ts why knowing Jack works. Jack was a pretty common hood: even the Wayne murder, we'll get to that shortly, was just buisness as usual. Jack had ambitious DREAMS, but seemed content to just wait for Grissom to die naturally then take his empire.

Joker by contrast is a mad artist: he sees gotham as his canvas, a toy to play with. He has all of jack's greed and drive, but none of his hesitance to act on it. He's impulsive but unlike jack, he thinks out his impulsive plans. He wants vicky kidnapped, but has his minons bring her, has a bunch of stuff ready and has a whole music video ready after. He barges in on her apartment but brings goons just in case. He's still impulsive enough to be the joker: He dosen't have a plan b for the parade, the pen stabbing comes off as "wouldn't this be neat let's do that", but it's still more than jack ever thought. Jack is truly gone: vestiges of him remain in his new self, he makes sure Grissom dies and wants to control gotham.. but he's now got the higher calling of mayhem: ruling gotham isn't because it's there.. it's because it's FUN. It works because it shows just how FAR joker can go, going from a midly high level enforcer, to a mad god whose only stopped by batman yanking hard enough. Jack works because, ala killing joke, it shows a mostly normal person becoming something far worse. The Joker has an origin and it informs him a bit.. but who jack was is gone by the joker and it's fascinating watching hwat he became.

So that brings us to the OTHER big change: Jack Napier killed Batman's parents. Now this one I agree was a bad idea: the tragedy of the wayne murders. .is that it was just some guy. Some random hood, sometimes named joe hill, shot two innocent people and doing so broke a child and created a bat. It being his future arch enemy feels contrived. Like IT HAD to be someone important because it was his destiny to be a vengeful orphan man! It can't have been just some guy it had to be a number one guy yes yes. It misses the point entirely and it just feels dumb and that reveal clouded my judgement. Jack on his own isn't bad but making him batman's parent's killer is just.. too much. That part sucks but everything ELSE about Uncle Bingo rules and one bad decision, that writer Sam Hamm swears wasn't his idea and came after it was in Burton's hands so blame accordingly, shoudln't negate such a fine performance.

Let's Get Nuts

Speaking of fine performances, let's talk about the Batman of the hour himself. While I went Joker first, Keaton's batman is awesome and has gotten it's due praise over the last few years.

Ironically a lot of what fans hated about him, his everyman looks and not being "muscular" are what make this bruce work. Much like Robert Pattinson's brilliant turn after, this is a Bruce who doesn't really socialize. Unlike Pattinsons he does put in the bare minimum, throwing parties and such... but it's clear while bruce is a known philanthropist, he's not really a big name figure in gotham beyond that. He's an inconspcious guy, so much that Vicky and Knox dont' even notice him or realize it is him. And that suits what he does great: he's so nondescript that once people start looking for batman they won't look there.

Not tha this secret identity being in danger is a big issue at first: Batman's experinced here, but also early enough he's just a myth: Only Knox thinks he's real and even he has no idea what this guy looks like. The criminals know, but both bruce and batman are unknowns at first and prefer it this way.

Bruce is a kind, gentle, down to earth guy: he quickly wins Vicki Vale over.. simply by showing an intrest in her work. It's subtly contrasted with the other two men in her life: Knox first notices her legs, hits on her mildly agresively and is a possesive tool, while Joker outright claims her and tries to kill bruce for stepping on his territory. Bruce wins Vicky over.. because he sees her as a PERSON and not boobs or a prize to be one. Basinger and Keaton have really great chemistry and while the two don't get a ton of scenes together, you see why Bruce takes to her so quickly.. and why he pushe sher away. His war on crime is ALL he has, and he dosen't want her getting caught in it, ironically taking away the agency that brought him to her. It's only when he realizes HOW much she means that he tries to open up. Then a clown shoots him but you know , thems the breka. It's telling when Alfred, to finally break this will they or won't they stalemate, brings her down he's not the least bit mad and is honest with Vicki and continues seeing her.. until she didn't come back for the sequel but that's a review for another day. A christmas day.

I bring up the relatoinship because it's what defines bruce, and while romances can be rushed in these movies.. this one works and fleshes bruce out. It creates a nice divide between the man he thinks he should be, the creatue of the night who scares a cowardly and superstitious lot, who dosen't flinch in any situation and is always calm.. with the all too human bruce who simply dosen't want to be alone. Well he has alfred but he can't rely on his dad forever.

As batman.. there isn't a ton to talk about as he's mostly stoic and badass. Keaton does a really good job of that.. but there's not a ton of expression other than "scowling and it's only in his final confrontation with the joker, his parents murderer he really emotes with pure unyielding rage. It's not bad.

There is one aspect that needs to be talked about though: This batman.. kills. It's a divisive idea as by this point batman's no killing rule was in place... but it's one I get Burton not using. He and those around him based this film on the earliest works, and in those.. Batman had no issue killing if he had to.

It works for me largely because Batman isn't wontonly killing: he uses the machine guns primarily to clear the way and presumibly, like the dark knight returns which is where Burton probably got the machine gun, their likely rubber bullets. The only person he truly tries to kill repeadetly is Jack. Not at the plant, as while it's said he drops him .. it really dosen't come off that way. It's left ambigious if batman did it on purpose or simply COULDN'T hold onto jack much longer. The only person Batman truly wants dead.. is the man who created him. Any other kills are mostly just life or death struggles. I prefer batman not to kill... but one who does so judciously still fits the character.

Finally before we move on we have the way his origin's done: While I said I didn't like the jack part the film tries to treat this as some big mystery.. with the problem being even in a post adam west pre burton world.. most people probably knew batman's parents were dead. It works to a point, but out of all the things in the film.. it feels like padding. We know why he's doing this, we're just waiting for Vicky to catch up and i'd be fine with that but ther'es juts.. nothing really added. She finds out his parents died. A matter of public record he didn't really bury. The only shocking reveal she finds is who killed his parents, which while a decen tswerve, couldv'e been hidden until the reveal. It just.. pads the film slightly, but not so much it obstructs it

The People of Gotham

Now for our side cast. Starting with our third lead we have Vicky Vale, she of the 80's hair, neat glasses and inconstient spelling in this review. Kim Bassinger does a great job with the character and they do TRY to flesh her out: she's been both a war reporter and a fashion photographer, is great at her career and while enamored with Bruce only takes his shit so far.

That being said while I do LIKE Vicky, it's largely down to the performance: Bassinger is a talented actress and i'd like to see her in more films. I mean i've only seen her in this, Wayne's World 2 and bits of Cool World. She did fine in all three, it's just clear she has talent and I hope to see her make a comeback if she wants. She makes a character given just enough sparkle.

That being said... plot wise.. Vicky's just there for exposition and as an object. They give her some depth, being a former war photographer, but the film's unintrested in exploring her as a person, instead having her explore bruce.

And get put in danger three diffrent times. I mean she only gets kidnapped once but it feels like she's mostly there to get scared or romance bruce. The romance plot IS important as it fleshes Bruce out as a person... but it's telling it's mostly to flesh HIM out. Vicky and him have chemistry.. but again that's because her actress is that good. I can kinda see why she didn't want to return for the sequel, and feel bad that her replacement of sorts got way more with her character. Vicky.. deserved better.

Onto Alexander Knox, who is probably confusing those of you who haven't seen the film. Knox is a reporter and is intended as mild comic relief at times. In practice he's aged like fine cheese on a sidewalk covered in radioactive ants and pudding. His first words upon seeing Vicky "Hello Legs"

He then offers to do nudes and in general just.. tends to hit on her often, while she clearly just wants to work with him and is only putting up with her bullshit because she's so clearly used to sexist bullshit and come ons at this point. I DO think some of this is intetional as there's a contrast in how he greets her and how Bruce greets her: Knox recognizes her work, but is mostly interested in

While Bruce you know.. sees her as a person. That said Knox.. is also creepily posessive, telling her not to go out with bruce, not getting what she sees in him, and clearly being jealous. He's just kinda there to set up that batman's been a thing and is mostly seen as a myth then ceases to be relevant but sticks around the film anyway. He does go after some guys with a baseball bat but it's too little too late.

Finally out of our heroes side, we have Alfred. Micheal Gogh dosen't get a ton to do, but really owns the roll, giving you the impression of a man who simply dosen't want to see his surrogate son spend his whole life in a cave. he says as much outright but you can see just how HAPPY he is that Bruce has Vicky and how much he dosen't want him to loose her. He dosen't get to do much.. but his one big action was a source of contention for Sam Hamm, as it was added after. Alfred takes Vicky to the batcave. In Hamm's words "That would be his last day of employment"

Alfred... is Bruce's dad. Not biologically, that we know of, but he raised Bruce. Even by this point in the comics it was clear Alfred was just as much a faithful retainer as he was Bruce's dad. Bruce would get mad about something like this.. but he'd never fire Alfred as a snap judgement, especially when Bruce WAS GOING TO TELL VICKY ANYWAY. Alfred likely knew this. All Alfred did was eliminate a step. It wasn't like Alfred invited his acapella group, the Alfredpellas, down there.

We then have Alicia. Alicia dosen't get much to do as this script REALLY wasn't intrested in women but is intresting. My friend Jess the Vampire pointed out when we watched this she's kind of a proto harley quinn: someone deeply intrested in the Joker despite how he abuses her. At first it's fairly equal: Jack gives her attention Grissom isn't and him becoming joker shocks her but isn't bad. Then he horribly scars her as an art piece, and abandons her for Vicky and the sheer trauma causes her to throw herself off a building. It's a tragic story as she didn't relaly do anything wrong, she just had bad taste in men: first Grissom then Jack then Joker. It's not as layered as poor harley, but it's a good first draft and adds to what a monster Joker is. He just makes her into his horrifying art then throws her away when he's done.

Finally out of the major characters we have Bob. Bob is a quiet MVP in this film, Jack's best friend and #2 and Joker's Number. One. Guy.

What I hadn't noticed before is even pre joker.. Bob is LOYAL to Jack. He gets Eckhart not to shoot jack, and most importantly saves Jack from Batman at Ace Chemicals, holding Gordon hostage. From the go he's invauable to his bestie, helping make up for Jack's impulsivness. And while Jack just kinda shrugs, as he tends to, Joker recognizes this. He instantly makes Bob his NUMBER. ONE. GUY. and unlike grissom, who only said it in jest and as a veiled threat, Joker really seems to mean it. He has Bob stalk vicky for him, lure her to the musuem, all creepy shit sure but all stuff Joker needs vitally done and trusts Bob to do without any ulterior motive. And he does. Bob's also just fun: he capers a lot during partyman and is one of the best parts of Trust, his expression as he's throwing money gives me life. It also makes his death tragic. Bob was not a good guy, again he stalked a woman because he was told to.. but he was loyal and friendly.. and joker kills him simply because he got pissed off. His death is, fitting the joker, hilarious, just the casual way he asks for a gunt hen shoots bob with it, but it's a sad end to a NUMBER. ONE. GUY.

The rest of the side cast.. is pretty one note. Gordon is just the police chief, something that carries over to most other versions we've seen on film, Dark Knight being the exception. He has a great moment at ace chemicals but does fuck all the rest of the film except light up the bat signal. Harvey Dent is there to set up a future role that never comes for Billy Dee Williams. Grissom is memorable thanks to Jack Palance's delivery of "NUMBER. ONE. GUY. ", but otherwise is just a standard gangster man. The rest of the cast is mostly there to do plot and they do do it well but don't do much else.

Conclusion: And with that Bat March comes to a belated end. I enjoyed this review as it made me take a close look at a film I loved... and ended up loving it MORE. Batman has rough edges, some due to age some due to simply being one of the earlier comic book movies, but it' sstill damn good even today. It's a classic, a fun ride with banger performances, a lot of detail and deft direction from Burton. If you haven't watched it in a while, please do. If you have.. well do anyway it's that good.

Thanks for reading and thanks for enjoying batmarch

[lucientelrunya]

twenty questions for fic writers!

tagged by the lovely @sunriseverse, thank you dear!

And I'll also do my tagging up here so you don't have to work your way through all my blabbering :) @s1utspeare, @forerussake, @kholran, @lacommunarde, @adelaiderowan, @elletromil if any of you want to do this!

The questions (and my answers) are below the cut :)

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

12

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

541,787 since september 2021

3. what fandoms do you write for?

at the moment only dmbj and basically only fuba, I have two (and a half) Stranger Things WIPs, but I don't know if I'll ever get back to them. Also there are some original works floating around.

4. top five fics by kudos

Mostly my multi-chapter ones (which I guess only have that many because one of my regular readers is unregistered, and as a guest you can leave multiple kudos on the same fic, something I did before I made an account, too). Okay, lets see: 1. Like a lonely house 292 kudos 2. The Crystal Menace 266 kudos 3. Promise in the Dark 256 kudos 4. We go deeper than the ink beneath the skin of our tattoos 85 kudos 5. Stolen Moments 55 kudos

5. do you respond to comments?

Always, at least to thank the reader for reading and taking the time to write a comment. I love hearing what people think, especially with the multi-chapter stories, what they think is going to happen and all that. It might take me a few days to respond, but I wouldn't miss it.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmmmm, probably The Crystal Menace because it's the first part of a series and has a rather heartbreaking ending (because it's not the actual end of their story). I generally tend to give my characters a happy ending because to me whump is only fun if it gets a happy ending.

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

As I said in 6, I usually give my stories a happy ending because while I love putting the characters through it, I need them to be safe in the end. I guess Like a lonely house has the happiest of them all, if I had to chose.

8. do you get hate on fics?

No, AO3 user are all lovely and I don't really remember how it was on the sites I used before (like ff.net), but I don't think I ever got hate there, I'm sure I would remember that.

9. do you write smut?

Oh yes, I love writing smut :) I even have a series that is only smut.

10. craziest crossover?

Hmmm, probably the Sailor Moon & Stargate crossover I wrote back when I was thirteen and that I never finished. I have never written a crossover since, at least not that I remember.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that I know of. But the only fics I have on AO3 are from such a small fandom that stealing would not be profitable.

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't think so.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

Oh yes, that's how I started out writing fanfic. Always with one other person in an rpg-style (each had a main character and we planned the story together and shared side characters). I was the one with the crazy ideas and my writing partners mostly tuned them down and brought order to my chaos. I loved writing like that, sharing thoughts, having someone to discuss things, someone to give input on my ideas, to shape all the rough ideas into something better.

14. all time favorite ship?

Nope, not gonna chose. I am a multi-shipper and even if I have been writing dmbj-only for 3 three years, that doesn't mean anything.

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Hmmmm, there is a Hei Xiazi/Zhang Rishan-idea in my drafts, but it's only an outline, it's not even really a WIP, so I don't know if it counts. And I still haven't given up hope that I will finish my Stranger Things WIPs one day^^°°°

16. what are your writing strengths?

erm.. I have been complimented on my smut, recently. Other than that, no idea. I'm not good at telling these things.

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

Knowing when to quit, probably? I hate having to let go of characters and finding a good ending for a story.

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Full dialogue? I'd probably write that the character speaks in another language, depending on the POV character. In one older story I wrote with a partner we used ~ as a marker that certain dialogues were in another language because the reader was supposed to know what they were saying while one of the main characters wasn't. So I would write the dialogue in the language I'm writing in and then add a "said character in language" if the POV character understands that language and otherwise just mention that the other characters are talking a language MC can't understand.

19. first fandom you wrote in?

Stargate SG-1 and Sailor Moon if I remember correctly.

20. favorite fic you've written?

I love all my stories, but Like a lonely house will always have a special place in my heart because it was the first story I wrote all by myself and the first story I wrote when I started writing again after my dad died.

[codenamesazanka]

Any thoughts on an au where Hana becomes All For Ones successor instead of Tomura? Or where they are both his successors and have a sorta Daki and Gyutaro (Demon Slayer) dynamic of villainous siblings?

I once wondered why exactly AFO didn’t pick Hana to kidnap/manipulate/groom. Like, she’s also a Shimura child - in fact she was born first, so if he had been planning for a sort of ‘Torture All Might With A Shimura Descendant (Before Then Using The Child As A Vessel For My Immortal Evil Soul?)’ all this time, he could’ve started earlier. She’s a girl, who looks even more like Nana, so the psychological torment for All Might would’ve been higher, probably.

One of the more popular theories in fandom seems to be: Shimura Tenko was born quirkless; AFO gave him the Decay quirk that would eventually bring ruin to the family and allow for AFO to swoop in as a ‘savior’. And thus it seemed like the Shimura tragedy was plotted by AFO nearly every step of the way:

1) Take one Shimura Child

2) Give them Decay

3) Wait for (or somehow induce) Accident

4) Profit

But then, if this was the plan, why not use Hana? All For One (Quirk) can take away any original quirk Hana had anyways, so Decay could still be bestowed and he can still bullshit some explanation about mutant quirks and innate urge to destroy and cultivate a ‘Symbol of Fear’. Simply put, why Tenko as the figure for his nefarious plan and not Hana?

Was it because AFO found the Shimura family too late and Hana already manifested a quirk and so it would’ve been suspicious if she suddenly changed powers? Was it because AFO didn’t actually have a specific ‘Use Shimura to Eventually Torture All Might’ plan (or had several to choose from but hasn’t decided on one yet) but when Tenko was indeed born quirkless, AFO thought that was too good an opportunity to pass up? Did Tenko have some quality that Hana didn’t and AFO focused on that? Or was it, as the responses to my question suggest, because AFO is a sexist bastard and a girl was no good (although he seemed to have been okay having girls as spares in his shady orphanage)?

It’s all kinda convoluted, these questions and what ifs. In any case, an AU where (Tenko still exists but) Hana was chosen as successor would mean, I think, that: All For One had an eye on the Shimura family for a long while before deciding to enact his plan, and he would specifically pick Hana either for a small bonus psychological torment to give All Might (super Nana look-alike) or because Hana had some quality he preferred/needed (her budding trait of sneakiness?) or a secret third thing. Which means AFO here is just a bit crueler, and his exact plot is slightly different, and also apparently he does not mind having a girl for a vessel (agender/genderfluid All For One, Go!). Fun elements to explore.

-

For some shameless self promotion tho, I actually have written an (unfinished) fanfic in which Hana survives and while she isn’t AFO’s successor, she’s nevertheless also groomed to take on a role in AFO’s evil plots, as sort of support for Tomura:

Unfortunately I am not familiar with Demon Slayer and am not sure what dynamic Daki and Gyutaro have, but I too had wanted to explore what villainous Shimura siblings would be like.

Between the different and perhaps clashing survival tactics both would develop; the potential for some unnerving AFO/OFA older sibling-younger sibling parallel; me having AFO give Hana a lying quirk (because he’s cruel with a terrible sense of humor like that); and me taking cues from this real interesting quote of Oneshot Tenko’s Hana’s

—I thought I could have a fascinating AU to play with. It’s a WIP I’m actually particularly proud of, and if you decide to read it, I hope you like it too!

[rottenbrainstuff]

BG3 - Fuck Gortash

Mild spoilers:

I took a little break from playing after binging a whole bunch, which I think is good - it’s not as good to do everything in a rush. Need time to savour it. I’m almost done now and I have to make these last moments count. I have very little left to do now - just Gortash, then House of Hope, and then the final battle, and that’s it! That’s all. I’ve been doing this run for six months now and I am almost all done.

Unpopular opinion: I think it’s good Larian is not making sequels or DLCs for bg3. They did start work on something, realized they weren’t passionate about it, and called it off. They’re going to move onto something else. How fucking amazing is that. These days the idea of sequels in general fills me with nothing but dread. IPs are just a crash grab waiting to be milked by a room of higher ups requesting the most bland and generic stories that will appeal to the broadest audience possible and cost the least to produce in order to maximize profits. I know that’s the movie situation anyways - I don’t know as much about how games work. I still think it’s fabulous that Larian realized they weren’t able to bring the amount of passion that they felt they should, and they called off the work.

I don’t really want to see more content with the characters that we have. I think their stories are interesting and self-contained and complete. I think it makes sense to end it where it ends. And I mean… it IS a fun game but I’m not so invested in the setting that I’m clamoring for more games set in this specific world. So even on that front, I feel like I don’t need more.

Plus maybe it’s my age, but I’m not used to the concept of game updates in general. I don’t expect them. When I was little, you bought a complete game and it was finished and that was what you got, period. The game is the game. It’s complete and it’s good. It’s always there for you to play again, whenever you want it. You can play the different origin plots, you can make different characters, you can make different choices and see what happens, and it’s always there for you. The fact that there won’t be any large additional DLCs doesn’t take this away from you?

So I don’t know. I feel like this is where fanworks step in now. All those little details you want to see, all those little blanks filled in, all those little extra adventures: that’s what fanworks are for. Let’s let Larian work on their next big project now.

Ok anyways, enough of that. Gortash. First you have to get back into the fortress, and all the guards attack on sight. Myeh. After all these very difficult battles, I guess it was nice to have something less hard, but it’s also no fun to feel like you’re shooting fish in a barrel. I did Iron Throne -> Foundry -> then Gortash, I wonder how things change up if you do things in a different order. After killing all the aggrod Fist in the fortress, it was neat to be able to and read all the books I couldn’t access before. Looks like things have gone significantly downhill in Baldur’s Gate recently.

As for the actual Gortash fight: Gortash gets pretty annoying pretty quickly so I cast Otto’s dance on him to keep him boogying. I love casting control spells on this dipshit that’s all about “Blah blah blah, Bane, Control, Bane, Control” well eat this, asshole. I’m a bit obsessive about collecting all the books and notes in the game to read all the lore, so I was pretty unhappy about everything getting destroyed by the constant barrage of grenades. I reloaded and focused on taking out the three grenade launchers at the beginning of the fight and we had smooth sailing. I’m glad I went through the trouble - Gortash has a journal (well, a rough draft of a stupid vain memoir) that details a bit more the plan that I (durge) was a part of, and where exactly in the timeline I was removed from that plan.

Then poor Karlach. So I do really like Neil Newbon, he did fabulous work, his big scene with Cazador was very cathartic and emotional. I think for those of us who have been badly hurt by other people, it’s not an uncommon fantasy to imagine yourself getting the same kind of brutal revenge. His scene made my oldest daughter tear up when she got to it. Me, I’m not sure, maybe I had seen too many clips online beforehand, maybe it was that it was all over so fast, I mean I definitely liked the scene a lot, and kudos to Neil and all the complicated emotions there, but the eyes stayed dry.

Karlach however - that one did make me cry. It really hit hard for me when she was talking about how unsatisfying it was. Now he’s dead but what good did that do, he’s not any more sorry about what he did. She’ll never get that closure. They took her heart and she won’t ever get it back. It’s been almost nine years now, I think? since I left my abusive husband, and that’s still something that eats me up. You can’t ever get that time back. You won’t get an apology for what happened to you, not from them, not from anyone, not from the universe in general. They probably won’t ever even ever recognize that what they did was wrong. And that’s…I don’t know. For me personally, that’s been so difficult to deal with, and to hear Karlach react the same, that hit hard. I had to pause for a moment.

Then she starts talking about her looming death. This whole time she’s been so positive, focusing on what she can do here and now, it’s admirable! But now it all catches up to her at once and she’s so, so angry. I cried. First time the game made me cry.

Fun fact - I actually legit was going to do Duke Wyll. I don’t care if the game is trying to tell me that’s the bad choice, I do honestly believe that’s a good future for Wyll, and it’s great for the city. But Karlach made me so sad here, her grief and anger at having so little time, and I reloaded back and changed my decision.

Now Karlach’s back to focusing on enjoying the moment, and asking if I will be there when she dies. Man.

Back in Baldur’s Gate, with the three netherstones in my possession, the elder brain is lashing out, and immediately, three citizens are turned into mindflayers. These mindflayers had (rather pretty) silvery white blood! Is this a new patch? Do all mindflayers have that now? I’ve killed a few now and I definitely did not see silver white blood before.

Last errand before I head down to the sewer for the final big fight: stealing my contract back from Raphael. At the start of act 3 my tav felt like his soul was disposable, but I guess all the events have left him with a desire to fight for it. Can’t wait, can’t wait!

[rainbowstargazerlilies]

Writing tips for fun and (no) profit!

There's a tip I once saw suggesting to always leave off writing mid-sentence, so that you have momentum or whatever. My personal thoughts on this are, if you do this, remember where you left off. I write out of order sometimes. I will and have forgotten a thought midsentence.

A second tip: if you ask someone else to proofread, and they have a sense of humor, maybe do your own small proofread first! Otherwise, they will find that incomplete thought before you do, and start adding their own thoughts involving penguins, the Macarena, or other similarly weird things.

Finally, read all the suggestions they offer thoroughly. Don't let the penguins sneak into the next draft because you skimmed! So far, this has not happened, but it might one day, and I live in fear.