#prompt: memento

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Halloween prompts year two, day 8

The weathered window made sounds of protest as Robin pried it open. He felt bad for breaking into Daniels apartment, but he needed to prove that his crush had no involvement with the Fentonworks gear that had found its way to Gotham through the black market.

He didn't bother with stealth since he knew Danny was out across town with his sisters and Richard. His eldest brother would ensure they wouldn't be back until much later so Damian could take his time investigating.

Damian didn't even begin looking when he froze in his tracks.

No.

It couldn't be.

This was impossible.

But to his great dismay the objects on the shelves and desks didn't disappear when he willed them to do so. The golden yellow and black design, the familiar sight of modified batarangs, that shade of red on the figures.

Damian had to face the truth but he would have preferred Daniel to be a criminal over...this!

His crush, his beloved...was a Red Robin fan

Damian refused to take this lying down! He must show his beloved the error of his ways, and to do that he must show Daniel that Robin is superior.

Danny, also known as Clueless by his closest friends, has no idea why Damian Wayne had taken an interest in him. Well, aside from Cujo. At first it started with Cujo and Tidus meeting eachother on walks (aka Cujo went into his Big Form and dragged Danny around by his leash) and the dogs became fast friends.

Damian was enamored with the green size changing dog and Danny was thrilled to see another non ghostly animal that wasn't scared out of its gourd of Cujo. They set up puppy play dates and things just progressed naturally over time. Danny developed a crush on Damian and Damian developed a crush on Danny, but neither noticed.

Options:

1. Danny had a long standing admiration/crush on Red Robin and thats why he's a fan with so much merch

2. Danny thought Damian was Red Robin and thats why he has all the stuff

3. Phantom and Red Robin are exes who never really dated but got close enough to count.

4. Phantom and Red Robin did date but it ended after some time shenanigans erased everything in that timeline and since Phantom had the time medallion infused into him by his evil alternate future self he remembered everything that technically never happened but Tim didn't remember anything and Danny just decided to let Tim go so he could be happy

#halloween prompts #prompts #danny phantom #danny fenton #fanfiction prompts #damian wayne #robin #red robin #yum #tim drake #danny is a casual red robin fan #hes not rabid of anything but hes got a few mementos on shelves and stuff #damian cannot let this stand #unless you want danny to be a major fan which is arguably funnier #dpxdc #dcxdp #deadserious #deadtired #breaindead

[aloysiavirgata]

Dancing that ISNT the PMP scene. Fucking love you gorgeous. ❤️❤️❤️

3 AM finds him waking up stiff and disoriented in the vinyl chair of her hospital room, his feet propped on an upside-down plastic wastebasket. His tie is hanging from the IV pole.

Mulder tests his joints, grimaces at the left shoulder. He’d overstretched it at the pool, shredding 2000 meters in under 30 minutes. He’s been lifting more, been running until he vomits. He doesn’t know if he’s punishing his body for being fit or trying to radiate so much health she’ll absorb it.

Perhaps if it’s the second he’ll need to feed it something other than coffee, Diet Coke, and sunflower seeds. Must be the first.

He examines her narrow form in the bruised light. Scully’s breath snuffles a bit at the cannula and he scans for blood at it but sees none. Her cheekbones curve resolutely past her patrician nose, down to her full, dry lips. There is a small tin of Smith’s Rosebud Salve on the fake wood nightstand. He resists the urge to rub a layer over them. He resists the urge to kiss her beautiful, cracked mouth.

Mulder sighs a bit, runs a finger around the back of his collar. She looks warm to him, looks safe and cared for and utterly beyond his ability to be of use. But he stays anyway, like one of those dogs that sleeps at the grave of its master.

He roams past the nurse’s station, where Jane and Esther give him sympathetic looks. They aren’t supposed to let him sleep in Scully’s room, but Esther is from Yorkshire and calls him lamb and duck and love, and he’s pretty sure he could get the lithe Jane in bed if he wanted to.

He’s drowned his sorrows in lanky brunettes before though, and it never quite took. Turns out he’s a man for dainty gingers.

The radio at the nurse’s station plays “Carolina In My Mind” and he hums along softly, making a styrofoam cup of tea. His father was happy in Raleigh. He was too, as much as he was happy anywhere. He thinks he might move down when Scully goes into the ground, a truth he can only admit at 3 AM. At all other times he will save her.

“Nah then, duck,” Esther says. “Tea from the machine, yer daft ‘apeth, when I’ve a proper kettle ‘ere? ‘Ow’s thy lass?”

He shrugs, smiles vaguely. Jane smiles back. Vaguely.

Mulder presses his head to the faded green wall as his tea steeps. It’ll be terrible, but strong. That’s good enough for him.

He hears a soft shuffling and looks up.

Scully in her spotless white robe and soft slippers, Scully like a Willow Ptarmigan approaching winter. The skin around her eyes is the delicate color of sublimated iodine.

“Scully,” he says, at a loss. She is beautiful in the way of alabaster vases, of all things that can shatter.

She yawns, lips shiny with the salve. Her hands are very thin when she covers her mouth. “Wonderful Tonight” begins on the radio now.

Esther smiles, looks away. Jane checks her watch and walks down the opposite corridor.

“Tea?” Scully says. “That’s more my brand. Why are you still here?”

He gulps the bitter brew. Winces. “I fell asleep,” he says, which is an answer but no answer at all.

“Mmm,” Scully says. She prepares herself some tea as well. Her white hands on the cup, her lower lip snagged between her teeth.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” Mulder says.

“You didn’t. I just woke up. I do that a lot. My circadian rhythm…”

They don’t talk about her suprachiasmatic nucleus of the hypothalamus deep within her brain. Of what it might mean if it’s off kilter.

“I was noisy,” Mulder lies, looking at her nose again. He moves like a cat in her room. Like a thief in the night. “Banged into the bed.”

Scully smiles serenely. “It’s all right.”

Jane stalking the perimeter, Jane frowning at her clipboard.

The moon out the window like a scythe in the dark.

He loves her, does she know? Does he know what he would do to save her and how he’d do it and that he’d swim through blood and blood and blood for her, 2000 meters and back again in a heartbeat?

Scully puts her tea down, Scully looks at him with her late summer eyes in this month of her birth. Scully is dying.

On the radio, The Beatles begin “Let It Be,” and what the fuck, he draws her in, her tousled hair and fluffy robe and her rattan ribs.

“Mulder,” she says, peering up. She clutches his left hand with the pale garden spider of her right.

He twirls her beneath the fluorescent lights. He kisses her her forehead because if he kisses her mouth like he wants to she will die.

Jane does another lap and Esther pretends to read a chart and Scully murmurs along with Paul McCartney.

Mulder watches the flat light bounce off her hair, watches her sway, watches her smile for a moment. She tucks her head against his chest as the song ends, doesn’t withdraw.

“Angel Is A Centerfold” begins, which is hardly the mood he wanted, but they both laugh and the scythe of a moon fades away as they sing Na-na, na-na-na-na, Na-na-na, na-na-na-na in something like harmony.

He doesn’t know what song is next, but he holds her through it and the next one and a few more and Esther and Jane are replaced and the sun begins to burn the blackness away and Scully is warm and awake and alive in his arms for at least another day.

#xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #my fic #msr #prompt #cancer arc #memento mori

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1190

Submitted by Anon - thanks!

A character has a special item that belonged to their recently lost best friend/partner, which they carry with them almost everywhere. One of their friends, who didn’t know about their loss, messes with/takes the item, causing the mourning character to freak out when they can’t find it. Their friend now has to deal with the character’s anger towards them and the guilt of causing them pain.

#love it! #whump #angst #writing #prompts #ideas #comfort items #mementos #panic #worry

[steampunkserpent27]

Little Reminders

for @hdcandyheartsfest 's prompt: Mementos Rated: G CW: Supportive Harry, Sad/Moping Draco, Implied existence of Scorpius He found Draco sitting on the floor with his legs folded beneath him, all manner of colorful drawings and hand-made cards strewn out in front of him. Harry lingered in the doorway, watching him move through the cards with shaking, tender hands, before he crouched down beside him and wrapped an arm around his middle. Draco sniffed and wiped at his eyes, before he looked over at him, his expression distraught and full of misery. He gave Draco a half-hearted squeeze, before he pressed a kiss against his cheek, mumbling, “He’s going to be just fine,” under his breath. “You don’t know that.” Draco whimpered, his lower lip sticking out. “He’s a smart kid, and he’s kind. He’ll find his friends.” Draco just shook his head. “With my name attached to him?” “It won’t matter, not to the right people.” He gave him a gentle nudge. “Come on, I’ll put a movie on for us and start a pot of tea.” Only, Draco wasn’t moving, he simply picked up the next card, his lips wobbling, as he read the barely legible message that had been scrawled across the page. He knew that Draco wasn’t going to get up and leave Scorpius’s cards, so he got to his feet and opened the closet, pulling out a handful of blankets. He draped them over Draco’s shoulders, one after the other, until he was weighed down and buried beneath him. Draco just stared up at him, his eyebrows raised, which gave him an extremely amusing expression, as his lips were still trembling. “Well, if you’re going to be looking at the letters you might as well be comfortable.” He could tell that Draco was holding back a smile, as he looked at the floor, his cheeks turning a soft pink. “Thanks.” Harry sat down beside him and wrapped him up in his arms. “He really is going to be okay.” There was a quiet sniff, followed by a muffled, “I know, I just miss him.” “It’s okay, I’m sure he’ll write to you soon. And he’ll be back for the holidays.” “I do hope he writes.” Draco mumbled, after a long moment of silence. “He will, I know he will.” 

#drarry #drarry! #drarry squad #drarry fic #drarry fluff #draco malfoy #harry potter #hpdm #draco x harry #harry x draco #fluff #supportive harry #drarry microfic #fic #hdcandyheartsfest2023 #hdcandyheartsfest #prompt: Mementos

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Prompt #874

"I love you, and I pray to anyone that will listen that you feel the same way." 

Because I don't know what I'll do with myself if you don't.

{Submitted by: memento-morri-writes}

#memento-morri-writes #submitted #submission #anon #prompt 874 #writing prompt #creativepromptsforwriting #writeblr #writing ideas

[ekholocationn]

gonna be getting the last 2 volumes of mementos mission for my bday this year i think. finally ill know the context behind punishment cop joker

#you guys have no idea how long ive wanted the backstory for that LMAO #i knew it was from mementos mission but like #what prompted him to dress up is my question #soon i shall have the answer #also no spoilers please if you have read it #ekho thinks #persona 5 #mementos mission #txt post

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"Oh, only the good things," Randall grinned right back, the smell of homemade gumbo, with all of its savory spices and seasonings, dancing in his nose as he thanked their waitress and prepared to dig in. Hot gumbo was something he could eat without hardly blowing on it, just as he could drink hot coffee straight from the pot, completely unbothered by the temperature-something he picked up from his mother, no doubt, given her penchant for piping hot black coffee.

"I think you'll like them," he added warmly, as he took in a spoonful of gumbo, savoring the wonderful flavors before saying, "They're very nice, very...down-to-Earth, you might say. Ma's a nurse at the children's clinic and Pa works construction, so you probably wouldn't see them during the week; they work most of the same days I do, but they at least get the weekends off."

So who knew? Maybe after one of these dates (the word alone made his heart flutter with excitement), they'd swing by his home to meet them-his folks never minded visitors, and would no doubt welcome her with open arms.

"How's your steak?" he then ventured to ask, looking up from his gumbo at the slab of meat on her plate-he probably would've ordered it a little more cooked, a little more well-done, but hey, some people enjoyed their steaks rare...really rare...

#((it really is gonna bring everything into focus isn't it? i think it's gonna really hit home for him)) #((just how alone emily has been for ages: she's held onto these mementos of him; taking care of them)) #((but she had no way of knowing that she would even reunite with randall! so these items she's taken care of all this time)) #((are bittersweet reminders of him; and it's clear that she could never love another after his death)) #((so i think seeing the rings; the veil; as well as how much emily has missed him in the intervening years)) #((is really gonna be what's gonna prompt him to wanting to become a vampire)) #((because he can't bear the thought of emily losing him again and being lonely for another century!)) #((he wants her to be happy and if that means becoming a vampire then so be it!)) #outofhatboxes #beatingheart-bride #V:Dark Shadows

[ask-ufpapyrus]

TW : Mention of Death and Suicide

For my Prompt WillSongTober

10. Memento Mori

A billion amounts to nothing in infinity's face

At most a couple generations will remember the ways in which

Your life never mattered

So, who cares if it's a waste

Well, one day you'll be not even a faint memory, no

At most a ghost or falling leaf from your family tree

Your legacy's not yours to see. Nor is your eulogy

And you'll never know what it all means

But you'll be at peace before you sleep if you just keep this in mind

That everything and everyone goes with the passage of time

So whether it's cancer, murder, or suicide

One day you're going to die

#skeleton #my art #totc #trilogy of the company #SnakeEyes #Death #memento mori #Inbetween #my character #death guy in background is my wife’s character #digital art #my prompts

[brbuttons]

'Memento Mori'- Charlie & the Chocolate Factory

Snapshot scenes, out of order, in the life of a spiralling Chocolatier. A collection of ficlets, following our own take on (musical) Wonka.

1/? - Strike That, Reverse It For someone who's so rarely seen, he sure wears a lot of makeup...

2/? - Three at a Time The Oompa Loompa are always a handful, even in very small doses.

#Finally uploading some of the Memento Mori prompts we did for Wonka's Toyhou.se #They're short but they're fun little character pieces #our brain does not do well with longform writing #🖤 miss kensington #charlie and the chocolate factory #catcf #catcf musical #fanfic #willy wonka #oompa loompa #catcf: memento mori

[willow-wednesday-offical]

Prompt:

✨Mementos✨

Click here to see everyone's 'mementos' prompts.

Click here to see all prompts!

#Willow Wednesday #Prompt: Mementos #Willow #Willow 2022 #Willow Series #Willow TV Show

[griffinverified]

Inktober Day 31: Window, Undead, Halloween, Memento Mori

A special one for the last day! I combined some of my lists and animated it! Penny is enjoying the view from her window on All Hallow’s Eve

#my art #digital art #monster girl #prompt list #drawing prompt #zombie girl #frankenstein’s creature #animation #animated gif #memento mori #halloween #inktober #inktober2022 #jlausobscurus

[graymacabre]

Midnight Graveyard

During the day, the graveyard is filled with mourners and flowers, tears and rot. 

a grim memento mori with a sprinkling of love mixed with pain. 

a haze of depression presses on the chests of the living 

But at midnight, 

when the rain hits the grave dirt and the eye of moon is gone

with only the gravediggers, morticians, and crows to see,

the graveyard wakes up and the dead begin to dance and dance and dance on their graves, their singing masked by the sound of the rain 

#memento mori #midnight #graveyard #morticians #Danse Macabre #dance of death #drawing prompt

[stevebabey]

@scooprtroopr ur tags on this post inspired a lil something and well, here you go friend <3 / also omg this fits for @steddie-week’s prompt pining! tehe / you can also read it over on ao3 :)

Steve gets that this is how karma works.

You do something bad, you don’t have the best intentions, you trample on one or two people’s feelings selfishly, yadda yadda. Then what do you know? Next month, it’s happening to you. What goes around comes around, right?

That’s how karma works. Steve gets that.

And yet, the sting in the morning when another hookup has crept out in the night feels so goddamn unshakeable. It slices through his ego, hitting every feeling on the way, and cuts right down the bone, and it hurts.

But it’s karma though, Steve knows that. He’s left a girl more than once or twice, and snuck back out the window he had crept into. Stumbled back to his car in the early morning hours.

(Steve pointedly ignores the old part of him that was- is so hesitant to stay — after the iciness of his first ever hookup, who had wrinkled her nose at the thought of him staying the night.

Who had patted him on the cheek in a near condescending way, a girl the year above him, and said, “Don’t overstay your welcome, yeah?”)

So when the other side of the bed is empty when he wakes, he knows he’s lost another game of ‘who can sneak out on who?’

Which Steve hates — it’s why he stopped going over to his dates house and instead started bringing them back to his. Hoping they might read that his invitation to stay the night extended right out til breakfast. Hell, til lunch if they wanted.

No one has come close to overstaying their welcome in the Harrington house.

Empty sheets rip a new ache in Steve’s chest and he groans, a pitiful noise because— of course, he hasn’t stayed.

Karma has the biggest bone to pick with Steve Harrington and he was really hoping it would be done after all these years. Evidently not.

But… Steve can’t help how much more this one hurts because this one was Eddie.

Steve tries to not let regret coil in his gut. Rolling over he buries his face into his pillow, eyes scrunched shut as he tries to think it over logically. Rationally. Ignores the burning in his throat.

Maybe he’s a fool for thinking Eddie would be different from the past.

But the buildup — before there had been flirting, there had been friendship, proper company between the two of them where there were no expectations. That may very well be due to the fact both of them were dudes but… Steve was so sure. So much of him believed Eddie would still be here when he woke up.

Steve huffs a loud sigh into the pillow. Pretends his chest doesn’t hurt a little bit.

“It’s fine,” He murmurs to himself, voice thick with sleep. His fists clench into the sheets for a moment. “It’s fine.”

He drags himself up and out of bed. Tugs on some stray sweats hanging over the back of his desk chair and ducks into the bathroom. Staring in the mirror, hair tousled and eyes still sleepy, Steve eyes the shower through the reflection. He should, probably, but he might get stuck on a loop in there.

Where did he go wrong this time? Why didn’t he stay? Why didn’t any of them stay? Why did—

Steve splashes cold water on his face instead, rubbing probably a bit too forcefully at his eyes. He spies the faint pink shape of Eddie’s lips, a mark left on his neck. His fingers grace over it lightly, softly, like a lover would.

Memories hazed with lust remind him of how it had got there, Eddie’s body on his, Eddie’s hands in his hair, Eddie— without thinking, Steve scrubs at the skin harshly. He wishes it wasn’t there. Wishes there wasn’t any remnant of Eddie left behind.

Steve doesn’t need any mementos to remind him he’s been left behind again.

He needs food, needs to get on with his day, Steve decides. The bathroom door swings closed behind him and Steve tries his best to wrangle his thoughts as he wanders out to the top of the stairs.

A run. That’s what he needs to clear his head. A long run til his heart is pounding in his chest so hard it hurts, til his muscles start burning, breathes coming too fast and his head is finally fucking quiet. Yep, that’s precisely what he needs to shake the sting of last night.

Steve’s so enwrapped in his head, thoughts swirling, that he get manages to get halfway down the hall to the kitchen before he hears the radio. It’s not loud, just enough to carry out the kitchen. Strange. He doesn’t remember leaving it on last night.

His feet carry him into the kitchen, another yawn creeping up and he rubs at his eyes, blinking a bit blearily and— and stops in his tracks. There’s someone at the stove.

Eddie’s at the stove.

Standing in the morning sunlight, hair lighter than ever, puckered scars along his arms standing out. He’s clearly ransacked Steve’s drawers, a pair of Steve’s plaid pj pants hanging low on his hips, his own softened band tee from yesterday still on. It’s had its sleeves hacked off, the fabric curling up into little rolls. Steve feels his stomach rise halfway up his throat, his hopes going with it. His heart does a strange stumbling pitter-patter.

He must make a noise because suddenly Eddie’s peaking over his shoulder and smiling at him.

“Hey,” Eddie says, shifting a bit to turn more toward him. Steve can see that he’s cooking, something delicious wafting up from the sizzling pan. His chest tightens, pure surprise wrapping around his sternum and gripping - so much, he can’t control the expression on his face.

“Hi,” Steve breathes. He’s still frozen where he is. He stayed. Steve blinks, taking in the scene before him; Eddie has clearly been puttering around, putting together some sort of breakfast. He fucking stayed and he’s cooking.

Eddie takes it the wrong way. He skittishly looks over the benches, covered in his mess, and tugs on the ends of his hair nervously. “I- it’s a mess, I know, I’m real sorry. I was gonna clean it, I just thought you might like…”

He trails off, unable to get a read on Steve’s expression. Steve doesn’t blame him but he can’t fucking stop his chest from feeling like it’s being pulled open, his heart from feeling like it’s soaring. He huffs an awed laugh, a smile curling at his lips.

Eddie deflates a bit in his relief, giving his own smile. He turns back to the stove quickly, giving the skillet a bit of a shake to keep it from burning and Steve draws closer, feet finally moving. Eddie watches him from the corner of his eye, barely biting back his grin as Steve gets closer. He hovers, feels the heat of Eddie’s back they’re so close.

He tries to feel brave — he stayed — and keeps his closeness, peering over Eddie’s shoulder at the skillet on the stove. It’s the Munson Special that Eddie’s cooked a few times for him over at the trailer; eggs, potatoes, shit tons of cheese, maybe a vegetable if he’s feeling healthy.

“Was gonna bring it to you in bed, but,” Eddie laughs, still tinged in nervousness. He sets down the spatula to tuck his hair behind both ears, glancing sideways at Steve as if trying to understand his silence.

He stayed and he cooked and he’s nervous. Steve thinks he might be holding his breath in disbelief, head dizzy with relief. With affection.

Very slowly, Steve’s hands move and, like he’s waiting for Eddie to flinch away, settles then very gently onto Eddie’s waist. His fingers curl into the soft fabric and Eddie makes a little chirp of happiness and leans back.

Leans into Steve a bit, like he wants his touch the morning after everything and Steve releases a shuddering breath, hooking his chin over Eddie’s shoulder. His hands grow a little more bold, sliding around to hug him around the middle.

Eddie’s cheeks have turned pink and his grin hasn’t faltered.

“Made me—” Steve starts, but his voice is a bit raspy. He clears his throat, avoids Eddie’s burning stare. “Y’made me breakfast?”

Eddie nods, his curls brushing against Steve’s cheek as he does. His tummy is warm beneath Steve’s hand and his hair smells good and Steve just wants to burrow into him- he tucks himself closer and is rewarded with a content noise from Eddie.

“That’s not weird, is it?” Eddie asks suddenly, picking up the spatula again and beginning to fiddle needlessly with the food. He flips it once, then again, so it’s on the same side as it was before.

He sounds a bit sheepish when he says, “I’m not sure- I haven’t ever really— I’m actually just gonna shut the hell up before I say anything stupid.”

Steve laughs quietly. His hands tighten around Eddie’s middle, head tilting so he can bury his grin into his shoulder— his heart is going haywire, going a million miles an hour, because karma is finally through with Steve Harrington and he gets to have this.

“S’not weird,” Steve mumbles. He thinks about pressing a kiss into Eddie’s shoulder.

“Ha, you said snot,” Eddie retorts with a childish snort and Steve can’t help it, he laughs at that too, muffled laughter into his t-shirt. Then he presses a kiss to Eddie’s shoulder, quick as lightning. Rests his chin back on it like nothing happened.

Eddie still stiffens just a bit- turns his head just a bit to glance at Steve and fuck, Steve can’t help the way his stomach swoops.

Because Eddie softens him unbearably with those nervous brown eyes, his pink lips twisted as he tries to hold back his grin. Steve’s beginning to understand that both of them seem equally surprised that this is happening.

Eddie’s free hand moves, pausing only briefly in a moment's hesitance, before it covers one of Steve’s on his tummy. It’s cold, much colder than Steve’s, and he covers it with one of his own instinctively.

Eddie’s trembling fingers give him a little squeeze. Steve thinks he must be able to feel how hard his heart is beating from where his chest is pressed against his back. It’s a lot to deal with; this perfect morning in the sun, the soft sound of the radio, the sweet boy in his arms.

They’re both grinning to themselves. Eddie focuses back on the food before him, doing all his work with one hand, and starts a little hum.

The radio switches to a love song.

#[holding my hand to my ear like im tryna harmonize] gaYyyYYy people in my PhOooooNe #enjoy some short and sweet mutual pining #both can't believe this shit is happening to them #but steve especially #but it IS! eddie thinks he's the cat pajamas!!! #ruby writes steddie #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddieweek2023

[tiktaaliker]

would fane like memento

fane would like memento but not as a friend. fane would likely think of memento as a mildly interesting bug that theyll poke at with a stick occasionally

#ask and ye shall receive #anonymous #for context fane is pretty much the physical embodiment of misinformation who is also a sparkledog #and probably the MOST sane and normal person in mortally coiled #but compared to the shit fane and null normally deal with memento would be pretty small potatoes #so any probable threats of violence from memento towards both null and fane would end up being kinda amusing to fane and not much else #also idk what prompted these asks about my OCs and how they get along but theyre very fun I'm having a great time c:

[carpe-mamilia]

Ghosts’ Larry Rickard Explains Why They Chose the Captain’s First Name

Photo: Monumental,Guido Mandozzi

It couldn’t be a joke. That was one rule laid down by the Ghosts creators when it came to choosing a first name for Willbond’s character. Until series five, the WWII ghost had been known only as The Captain – a mystery seized upon by fans of the show.

“It was the question we got asked more than anything. His name,” actor and writer Larry Rickard tells Den of Geek. “Once we got to series three, you could see that we were deliberately cutting away and deliberately avoiding it. We were fuelling the fire because we knew at some point we’d tell them.”

In “Carpe Diem”, the episode written by Rickard and Ben Willbond that finally reveals The Captain’s death story, they did tell us. After years of guessing, clue-spotting and debate, Ghosts revealed that The Captain’s first name is James. At the same time, we also learned that James’ colleague Lieutenant Havers’ first name was Anthony.

The ordinariness of those two names, says Rickard, is the point.

“The only thing we were really clear about is that we didn’t want one of those names that only exists in tellyland. It shouldn’t be ‘Cormoran’ or ‘Endeavour’. They should just be some men’s names and they’re important to them. The point was that they were everyday.”

Choosing first names for The Captain and Havers was a long process not unlike naming a baby, Rickard agrees. “It almost comes down to looking at the faces of the characters and saying, what’s right?”

“We talked for ages. For a long time I kept thinking ‘Duncan and James’, and then I was like ah no! That would have turned it into a gag and been awful!” Inescapably in the minds of a certain generation, Duncan James is a member of noughties boyband Blue. “Maybe with Anthony I was thinking of Anthony Costa!” Rickard says in mock horror, referencing another member of the band.

Lieutenant Havers wasn’t just The Captain’s second in command while stationed at Button House; he was also the man James loved. Because homosexuality was criminalised in England during James’ lifetime, he was forced to hide his feelings for Anthony from society, and to some extent even from himself.

In “Carpe Diem”, the ghosts (mistakenly) prepare for the last day of their afterlives, prompting The Captain to finally tell his story. Though not explicit about his sexual identity, the others understand and accept what he tells them – and led by Lady Button, all agree that he’s a brave man.

Getting the balance right of what The Captain does and doesn’t say was key to the episode. “It wasn’t just a personal choice of his to go ‘I’m going to remain in the closet’,” explains Rickard. “There wasn’t an option there to explore the things that either of them felt. That couldn’t be done back then – there are so many stories which have come out since the War about the dangers of doing that.

“We wanted to tell his personal story but also try to ensure that there was a level at which you understood why they couldn’t be open, that even in this moment where he’s finally telling the other ghosts his story, he never comes out and says it overtly because that would be too much for him as a character from that time.

“He says enough for them to know, and enough for him to feel unburdened but it’s in the fact that they’re using their first names which militarily they would never have done, and in the literal passing of the baton”.

The baton is a bonus reveal when fans learned that The Captain’s military stick wasn’t a memento of his career, but of Havers. As James suffers a fatal heart attack during a VE day celebration at Button House, Anthony rushes to his side and the stick passes from one to the other as they share a moment of tragic understanding.

“From really early on, we had the idea that anything you’re holding [when you die] stays with you. So it wasn’t just your clothes you were wearing, we had the stuff with Thomas’ letter reappearing in his pocket and so on. And the assumption being that it was something The Captain couldn’t put down, it felt so nice to be able to say it was something he didn’t want to put down.”

Rickard lists “Carpe Diem”, co-written with Ben Willbond, among his series five highlights. He’s pleased with the end result, praises Willbond’s performance, and loved being on set to see Button House dressed for the 1940s. He’s particularly pleased that a checklist of moments they wanted to land with the audience all managed to be included. “Normally something’s fallen by the wayside just because of the way TV’s made, it’s always imperfect or it’s slightly rushed, but it feels like it’s all there.”

Rickard and Willbond also knew by this point in the show’s lifetime, that they could trust Ghosts fans to pick up on small details. “Nothing is missed,” he says. “Early on, you’re always thinking, is that going to get across? But once we got to series five, there are little tiny things within corners of shots and you know that’s going to be spotted. Particularly in that very short exchange between Havers and the Captain. We worried less about the minutiae of it because you go, that’s going to be rewound and rewatched, nothing will be missed.”

The team were also grateful they’d resisted the temptation to tell The Captain’s story sooner. “We’d talked about it every series since series two, whether or not now was the time, but because he’s such a hard and starchy character in a lot of ways you needed the time to understand his softer side I think before you had that final honest beat from him.”

“What a ridiculously normal name to have so much weight put on it for five years,” laughs Rickard fondly. “Good old James.”

From Den of Geek

#bbc ghosts #bless you larry for doing all these den of geek interviews #I wonder if they just did one marathon session with him #inside ghosts was kind of disappointing this week #I guess Ben just wants to let the episode speak for itself and you're like yes but I would like to hear you talk about every detail #trust me we will be interested #long post #I really thought they loved the joke of nearly saying the Captain’s name so much that they'd never reveal it #so it's so lovely that they were like no this is not a joke name; he's a real man with an ordinary name #and we are going to tell you that in the most devastatingly romantic way #I am eating my words and they are delicious with that spread on top #also 'that's going to be rewound and rewatched' = 'I know you people are loopy so here is content specifically for you' #bbc ghosts spoilers

[mrsjellymunson]

KNOCK AT THE CABIN | Prologue

Written for @bettyfrommars, @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing’s Stranger Prompts, Prompt 1. He shows up at your house covered in mud in the rain, but the problem is, he died two months ago.

Series Summary: After the events of the previous months, everyone is shocked by the unexpected return of an old friend. But is it really him?

Chapter Summary: On a stormy night, an unexpected visitor arrives.

WC: 1.14k

Series C/W: 🔞 18+, MDNI, NSFW. I mean it, if you’re under 18, git! Post-S4, Upside Down exists, dark/supernatural themes. Eventual Eddie Munson x fem!reader smut. Swearing. Not much to caution about in this part, unless you don’t like rain, or bad decor.

A/N: This series contains a lot of things I haven’t written for before, so I’d love to know what you think! Please comment and reblog, it means the world to writers, and reblogs mean work gets seen. This series has a taglist so if you’d like to be on either it, or my general list, lemme know in a comment, ask or message 🙏💗

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You’re holed up in an old farmhouse on the outskirts of Hawkins. It’s not exactly remote, but the nearest building is little more than a speck on the horizon so you feel pretty isolated. Owens organised it, explaining it would be a good idea for the older members of the party to lay low for a little while. Nancy had put forward an excellent argument for remaining with her family, but you, Robin and Steve had reluctantly packed up some of your belongings and relocated here. For how long, you don’t know.

It’s no palace. The wood-built building is certainly past its best, the yellowing 50s kitchen barely functional and the faded decor not to anyone's taste. But it’s (mostly) warm, (usually) dry, and most importantly, it feels safe. Which is something you all need after the events of the past few months.

You’re all acutely aware of the obvious gap in your merry band. Owens had insisted that the three of you didn’t attend the funeral, but he’d involved you as much as he could, ferrying messages between you and the kids and Wayne, discussing what he would’ve wanted to wear (you all agreed on his spare Hellfire shirt and leather jacket, knowing he’d never want to be separated from either, plus a brand new, government-funded pair of black 501s), and sneaking mementoes to you with Wayne’s approval.

Mike and Will have taken charge of his D&D paraphernalia, Dustin got his wallet chain (and wears it with literally everything, even his Weird Al shirts and colourful shorts), and Lucas opted for a small pocket knife. You, Steve and Robin each have one of his rings. Steve and Robin keep theirs in their rooms, but you wear the silver skull every day. It’s too big for your fingers, and is even a little loose on your thumb, but that’s where you keep it, spinning it to ease your anxiety, and smoothing the pads of your fingers over its bumpy surface to remind you of the friend you’ve lost. Rueing the fact that you always wanted him to be more than that, but never had the chance to find out whether he felt the same.

The kids visit periodically, even staying over sometimes, nobody expecting anyone to be watching the comings and goings of a bunch of nerdy teens. Nancy drops them off, sometimes staying, sometimes not. On this occasion she’d dropped and run, explaining that she was going to visit Max in the hospital tomorrow, spending some quality girly time with her. Lucas, who usually spent every spare moment by her bedside, was going to spend the weekend here, after Max, still seriously ill but now well enough to communicate, insisted that he needed to spend at least a bit of time with his old friends.

Tonight, you’d had a movie marathon, Keith developing an uncharacteristically generous side since everything kicked off and periodically dropping off and collecting piles of VHS tapes. Not quite generous enough to bring you any brand new releases, but even things you’ve seen before are better than the ‘sweet FA’ you’d have available given the nonexistent TV reception around here.

Popcorn litters the floor and the saggy furniture, as do gangly boys and a long-haired girl. Jane has commandeered the sole armchair, sitting in it cross-legged, and you, Steve and Robin are squashed onto the sofa with an equally squashed Dustin, the latter insisting that there was definitely room for one more.

Mike and Will are on the floor between the sofa and the old, battered coffee table. Mike’s hunched over a bowl of chips that he’s shovelling in, and Will is leaning against your legs, you stroking his hair in a way you know he finds comforting. Lucas is lounging on the floor at the side of the table, his long body stretched out and his head supported on threadbare throw pillows.

The gentle patter of drizzly rain against the windows and roof, and the crackle of the open fire, one of your only sources of heating, gives the evening a cosy feel, though you hope the rain doesn’t get any heavier as you don’t entirely trust the roof over the rear extension to cope with much more meteorological abuse.

You’ve just finished Raiders Of the Lost Ark and Steve has got up to swap it out for The Stuff, when there’s a strong gust of wind and the rainfall picks up significantly. Great, you think, the weather gods definitely weren’t listening to your silent pleas.

None of you notice Jane stiffening in her seat and shifting uncomfortably.

Under the lashing of the wind and rain there’s a sudden noise at the front door. Not urgent, not loud, just two soft thuds. If the kids had been roughhousing or the film had been on you may even have missed them.

You all look at each other, instantly and equally on edge, and all hoping that somebody, anybody, will provide a simple explanation for this.

Steve’s the first to speak. Jaw slack and brow furrowed, he asks the room, “Uhh, did anyone order takeout?”

There’s a cacophony of ‘no’s’ and shaken heads, before another soft thud is heard, just one this time.

Steve steels himself, not for the first time realising that it’s his responsibility to investigate the possibly terrifying, and potentially life-threatening, situation. He stands from his position by the video player and moves towards the door, fingertips skimming the top of the bat that’s always to the side of it, before closing his hand softly around the handle.

He pulls back the sliding bolts before twisting the lock and pulling the door open just a crack, leaving the chain on. The noise of the weather increases in volume, but other than that there’s no indication of what’s on the other side.

Steve has his back to you so you don’t see his eyes go wide, but you do hear a soft, “Wh- What the fuck?”

Robin being Robin, and perpetually thinking about her stomach, she says,

“What is it, doofus? Pleeease tell me it’s Jonathon and Argyle dropping by from Cali with some delicious Surfer Boy pizza??”

“Uh, no, it’s, uh- You know what? Maybe you should just come and see for yourself. Wait, scratch that, just the adults.”

Knowing this will unwittingly pique the interest of the kids more than if he’d just allowed everyone to come look, you and Robin glance at each other before quickly rising and moving to the door.

Steve closes it and takes off the chain, opening it wide as the three of you arrive, the kids following close behind and trying to look between you.

There, hunched, shivering, soaking wet and covered in mud, is your friend. The one who’d died saving the town. The one they’d buried only a few days ago, after he’d been lying on a slab in a lab somewhere for weeks.

Eddie.

.

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Thanks so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed this. Lemme know if you’d like to be tagged in future parts.

Extra tags: @jamdoughnutmagician @joejoequinnquinn

#eddie munson #strangerprompts #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #post S4 #upside down #Eddie lives #my first time writing anything supernatural #I hope I don’t fck it up #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson imagine #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #will byers #mike wheeler #eleven hopper #Jane hopper #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson x you #Eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #The Party #ST S4 canon #my first time writing canon #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic