she/they
mostly into mcyt atm (also insane about my ocs but i don’t talk about them much on here lol) also into tma, the mechanisms, land of the lustrous, madoka magica, sonic & dragon ball - my interests change often lol pretty rb heavy + art!!
A/N: Heyo! So, unexpected inspiration struck from this post by @grithogirl and got me writing What Morcant Did while waiting for Abolish to return, from the POV of the locals :) I wrote most of this on my commute to & from work, so this is fairly short, and plenty silly.
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The King's Arms was an inn which didn't see much in the way of wayfaring patronage.
Oh, there was nothing inherently wrong with the village. It was simply that 'nothing inherently wrong' extended into 'nothing at all'. There was no through road to necessitate a rest stop, and no festivals to draw in a tourist trade, nor historical repute to attract the academic kind.
All it possessed were fields carved out of the forest, and that damn cursed village to the west.
And so, travellers who found the village were usually very lost, or just realising how lost they were, and went back the way they'd came as soon as the innkeeper marked them on a map.
Nobody stayed at the King's Arms.
"He's been here a week now," said the butcher.
The butcher, the baker, and the candlemaker watched the elderly gentleman take a lone seat in the corner of the inn.
"Do you think he's turned around?" asked the candlemaker. He tapped his head. "Some old folk, you know, they forget where they've been."
"Old Martha still thinks she's running the mill some days," the baker said by way of idle agreement.
"Do you let her?"
"I don't dare stop her."
"John says he seems all there," said the butcher, bringing their conversation back to the stranger.
The baker snorted. "John's making a pretty penny off his stay. He'd make an argument for a cow if it paid its coin on time."
They communally watched him order the steak and ale pie, and – again communally – winced. Locally, that option was known as the stank and stale, and was best served up far, far away.
"What do you think he's doing?" the candlemaker asked.
"Making poor dinner choices," the baker replied.
"I thought John used your pastry for the pie," the butcher said.
"He uses your cows."
"I mean, staying here," the candlemaker said.
The baker shrugged. "Sarah's boy says he's hired out every third day to drive the man's carriage down into the woods to the west."
The candlemaker and butcher consider this.
"Last third day was a Sunday," said the butcher.
"To the west?" the candlemaker asked. "You mean, towards the abandoned village?"
"Cursed," chorused the butcher and baker both.
"Sarah's lad says they drive down to the same spot each time and just wait for hours," the baker continued. "Then when the light goes, they ride back to the inn."
"Maybe he lost someone," the butcher said.
"Oakhurst fell 200 year ago."
"He's an old man."
"Not that old."
Regardless, the three stared at the stranger, just to assure themselves.
The man glanced over their way and offered a wrinkled smile.
They decided their drinks were far more interesting.
.
"Do you think he's dangerous?"
It had been a fortnight since, and the stranger – a Lord Morcant Thornvale, or so the rumours went – was still at the King's Arms.
More to the point, he was still ordering the stank and stale.
At the butcher's question, the candlemaker appraised the alleged lord behind the safety of his stein. "I doubt it. I mean, he's just an old man. What could he do?"
"How old was Maurice when they caught him?" the baker asked.
"Who's–" the candlemaker began.
"Maurice, Maurice, he catches the mice and fleas," said the baker in a sing-song tune, "and if you please, he'll take your face and knees."
"Ratcatcher," the butcher supplied sympathetically. "He was 73 when he bludgeoned a neighbour to death over a fence dispute."
The baker added, "Before your time."
"I'm older than you," said the candlemaker.
"You've only lived here 20 years."
"23."
"Point is," said the butcher, "there's no age limit on murder."
They glanced over to the man who was, inexplicably, eating the pie without immediate and sudden bowel regret.
"I can't imagine him bludgeoning a man to death," the candlemaker said after a long, dubious moment. The pie seemed to be shaking that resolve a little. "It'd get all over his nice shoes."
"He could have a second pair."
The butcher snorted. "Sure. Secret murder shoes. Do you hear yourself? Anyway, no one's died."
"Yet," the baker added unhelpfully. "Anyway, you've got to wonder what he's waiting for, going to the outskirts of Oakhurst."
"Or a who," the butcher said.
"It's Oakhurst. It'll be a what."
.
A month passed, and there had been no sudden deaths.
Well, apart from Samual the wheelwright, but if he'd wanted to stay alive, he shouldn't have clambered up a tree in a thunderstorm, even if his best hat had blown up there.
A month gone, and Lord Morcant Thornvale (the locals had accepted the name, if not the veracity of the title) had moved from notable oddity to background curiosity. He was still hiring out Sarah's lad to drive down to the westward boundary, and still eating at the King's Arms without incident, and after a certain point, people ran out of things to say.
Mostly.
"John's Daisy's is getting married next week," said the candlemaker.
"And you know he'll still charge for drinks, the stingy bastard," grumbled the baker.
"When your Kate got married, you charged twice the usual for pastries at the wedding," the butcher said.
"Pastries ain't the same as ale. People need their drink."
"Do you think he should be invited?"
Both butcher and baker paused in their budding argument. They didn't ask who, for there was only really one option in question. "Why?" asked the baker.
"Well... the whole village'll be there."
"He's only been here a couple of months."
"It took two years before you were invited to anything," added the baker to the candlemaker.
"I turned up anyway within a month of moving."
"Yes, but you weren't invited," stressed the baker, not maliciously, but honestly.
"You're only local once you can trace your family back three generations here," the butcher said, grinning, but there was more truth in it than was probably comfortable.
"It just seems rude, if the whole village's going."
"He can show, if he likes," the butcher said. "He won't, though. It's on a third day."
.
"He's waiting for his grandson."
"What?"
The baker slid onto the bench, three steins of the King's Arm's finest hal'penny ale balanced between his hands. Only a little was spilled in the attempt. "Thornvale," he said. "Sarah's boy asked what he thought he'd find, and he said he was waiting for his grandson."
This information was digested with all due gravitas. For good measure, ale was also digested in the proceedings.
"No one's lived in Oakhurst in 200 years," the butcher said eventually.
"Maybe he's living in the woods," the candlemaker suggested.
"Not if he's got any sense." The baker took a long draught of his ale. "Everyone knows the wolves are migrating eastward this time of year."
"Wasn't there that old mansion in the woods?"
"Sure, but that's been abandoned for well over a decade."
The butcher was quiet. Then, "The family had a little boy. What happened to him?"
"They all died, didn't they?"
A silence settled across the table as everyone came to the same deeply uncomfortable conclusion, but didn't want to be the one to voice it.
"Sometimes Old Martha thinks her Gus is still alive," the candlemaker said, after a long pause. He was finding his drink extremely fascinating. "She came down here last week, looking for him."
"It happens, sometimes," the baker said, but even he sounded morose.
"Do you think he knows? That he's been here for months. Or do you think he's still in that first week?"
"Someone should tell John," said the butcher. "It's not right for him to keep taking the old man's coin, even if he does have plenty."
"Where else is the old man meant to go?" the baker asked. "Who knows if he's even still a lord? Lords shouldn't be turning up without the proper entourage."
"What exactly did Thornvale say to Sarah's lad?" the candlemaker asked.
"Only that his grandson would be back any day now."
That failed to put any minds at ease.
"Do we tell him?"
"You can't tell folk like that that kind of news," the butcher said. "It'll be gone by tomorrow, and then what'll you do? Break his heart all over again?"
"We can't just–"
What they couldn't just was rudely interrupted by the inn doors opening, and a young man making an immediate approach at the bar.
The man couldn't have been more than mid-twenties, but he carried enough of a military air that the King's Arms' patrons did their best to look busy. He tapped at the counter. "I'm here to settle up Lord Morcant Thornvale's tab," he said.
John the innkeeper startled, which was just as well, since the rest of the room had fallen silent. "Old Thornvale?" he asked. "Is he leaving?"
"Yeah. Business here's all finished."
John made an admirable attempt at sounding casual. "You must be the grandson, then."
The stranger paused. "Sure." He didn't sound like he was lying, but he did make it sound like there were several caveats and asterisks affixed to the relationship. "Do you have the bill?"
The innkeeper passed a much-scribbled paper. He hadn't expected the old man to stay so long, and his bookkeeping looked accordingly.
"Oh, for goodness–" Thornvale's grandson cut himself off. "Dinner," he said. "Every evening?"
"Finest steak and ale in the village," the innkeeper said, and his patrons worked even harder to stay interested in their drinks. A few chokes rasped from those unlucky enough to have been imbibing at the time.
"He doesn't even–" Again, he cut himself off, and left half the village to forever wonder what Old Thornvale didn’t even. "And breakfast?"
"He complimented our chef on the bacon."
Which was another wonder, because the King's Arm's chef cooked the bacon so briefly, it could probably be put back on the pig.
"Of course he did."
As the man passed over the payment and headed for the door, John paused in his counting. "He's going to be fine, right?" he called. "Old Thornvale? Only, he's been here a while, and the whole village's gotten fond of him."
"Damn," said the butcher. "Guess even John's got a heart."
"He wouldn't have if the bill hadn't been paid," muttered the baker.
The stranger – the maybe-grandson – lingered by the door a moment, and so the entire room saw the disbelieving grin and eye-roll. "I don't think you need to worry about Morcant."
This was supposed to be just a real quick test on how well I can make "phantom shapes" with the textures, and instead I spent like three days on it, and trying to compromise between subtle and obvious, I ended up with neither. The outline of the "hidden" shape there is not really visible there, but here it is:
Which Districts I think each VSMP character would belong to if they were in the Hunger Games universe. Inspired by a HG au post made by @lightblueglazedterracotta. Sorry I have brainworms now. If I'm so inclined I might write a fic...
Explanations below the cut. Warning it's EXTREMELY LONG! Also, sorry if anything is inconsistent, I wrote this over the course of several days. (Also, going in the order of the Tierlist):
Scott - Obviously I feel he'd be a Capitol citizen. Probably in the upper echelon of even the richest people in Panem. The Goldsmiths are probably a name with a lot of history there - lots of politicians and celebrities and stuff. Maybe a Gamemaker or two. Scott I think wouldn't be anything to important, weirdly enough. Despite being ambigously noble in VSMP, I get the feeling he's more into the "doing whatever you want" part of being a powerful vampire elder and way less into like... the political intrigue. Even if he indulges in that on occasion. So translating that to living in the Capitol, I think he'd grow dissatisfied with any job that was too serious. Which is why I have him listed as a District Escort instead. That's about the quarter of the work of a standard Games employee with then times more of the accolades than anyone other than the Gamemaker themself is going to get. Aside from the Tributes and Mentors, but they're not really employed in the traditional sense. I think he'd be the Escort for more wealthy Districts, and he wouldn't mind if a few of his Tributes died - so long as it didn't reflect poorly on his end. Also, I think he'd have specifically been the Escort for Shelby and Pyro when they were in the games, which I'll get to in a second.
Sausage (Mr. M) - District One. Luxury Goods. While books themselves probably fall under Seven due to paper being made with trees, I feel like District One would be the center of the arts outside of the Capitol itself. And since Sausage is an artsy dude, he goes here. I think he is specifically a past Victor, and he's been publishing books post-Games when he isn't mentoring. How did he win.... Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh-
Martyn - District One! Tribute. Being mentored by Sausage. Wish him luck cause he's gonna fucking need it. As much as I associate D1 with the arts, I also associate it with opulence. And with Martyn faking nobility, I think it would make sense for him to be in the highest numbered District, while not being a Capitol citizen. Obviously this is a little flawed, since no one would mistake a District Tribute for a Capitol citizen. So, maybe during his time in the Games, he attempts to appeal to the Capitol watchers by insisting he's not so different from them at all.
Drift - District Two. Masonry and Military. As much as I hate to say it. Drift is technically a cop... And the Panem equivalent of cops... Are. Peacekeepers... So. Like.... I mean I guess, she could also be a P.I. but I don't know if that sort of career is particularly legal in Panem???? IDK. Whatever she is, I don't think she'd be a Tribute. Feel free to add your input here fellow HG fans.
Legundo - District Two. Former Victor. Wanted to join the Peacekeepers before he ended up volunteering for the Games. Afterward he couldn't bring himself to do it. Even if he's still pretty intertwined with them due to being in D2. Definitely won by poisoning the water supply in the arena. I think he was probably a favored Victor for a while, until he got more and more disillusioned with everything. He's probably a mentor a lot, both as a way to keep ratings up, but also as some form of fucked up punishment for any odd statements he's made against the Games in the past...
Apo - District Two. Tribute. Much like Legs was planning to join the Peacekeepers, though that plan was messed up when they were reaped. District Two usually has volunteers, so I imagine this was some kind of mistake; one that wouldn't be rescinded by the Capitol lest it embarrass them at such a tumultuous time. Obviously their biggest goal is to win so they can get back to Cherri, whose back in D2 waiting for her. Legs is definitely her mentor. And she's definitely not popular in the Capitol. Imagine the incident with Martyn but televised to an entire nation. Oof.
Shelby - District Three. Victor. I've talked about this in my reblog before, but to summarize; I picked D3 because of their relation to Pyro in this theoretical AU and also because of their association with specifically fanfic - which is more "online focused" and thus more tech-based then standard non-digital writing. Also I think in order to run a blog or a fan page you'd need readily available internet, both the for the pages themselves but also to access the media they'd be talking about. Which is what I feel Shelby does in their free time for this futuristic setting. Also I wanted them to be in the upper four Districts so that Scott could be their Escort during the games. The OOP of the post this is inspired by also posited the idea that Shelby could be a stylist, which is also very cool! Though, I am going for the District angle so we have a Capitol minority and Districts majority here.
Pyro - District Three. Former Tribute. Suuuper dead. Rest in pieces my guy. Whatever District Shelby is in, Pyro has to be in, since they were District partners in this AU I'm cooking up spontaneously here. Pyro growing up wealthy puts them in the upper five (more likely upper four) DIstricts, and out of all of these, I feel D3 makes the most sense (though I would also settle for D5, which would mean Shelby is also there). Pyro's very scholarly and all of the D3 citizens in the books are very intelligence-first overall. Granted, Pyro's not a tech major, they're a sociology, history kind of person. But hey, more access to the internet means more access to stuff on those topics. Not that it matters, since he's super dead I mean. There's only meant to be one Victor after all. And it's not like anyone was rooting for them...
Owen - District Seven. Lumber. Victor. This is kind of a given. Bro is a Lumberjack, guess where all those guys are in this country where material gathering is focused in sectors. It's also in the lower half of the Districts, meaning less wealth, but it's also higher up in that latter half meaning Owen could still reasonably be disconnected from the greater community of D7 due to being poor, as well as due to his illness. Just gonna steal this directly from the original post I keep referencing. Owen had his name pulled twice. The first time, Louis volunteered in his place. The second, he had no one but himself, and his fury. He's probably hated by the Capitol, but they don't do much about him because he largely keeps to himself unless bothered. Probably doesn't even live in Victor's Village most of the time. Just fucks off into the woods and grieves all day long. The few times they do bring him in, he's treated like a public spectacle, which gives him all the more reason to show them why he shouldn't be brought back the next year.
Ren - District Nine. Grain. Victor. Ngl, this is just because of "cookies" and "wheat beer". Which isn't interesting. BUT!!! In this AU he'd also be an Avox. Instead of having a cursed tongue, he just doesn't get to talk at all. RIP! Despite that, I think he still gets pulled to mentor a lot. Mostly to show the other Victors what happens if you speak out against the Capitol too much (which how Mr. Dogmourne got his tongue cut out in the first place.)
Cleo - District Eleven. Agriculture. Victor. Probably lived in the wealthier part of the District, whatever their equivalent of the Merchant's Square is in D12. I think their mom was a rebel who got snitched on by one of her allies in exchange for a higher status. One that probably wasn't up to snuff but oh well. There's no going back. Especially not for Cleo. Maybe this all happened the week Cleo got back from the Games. Extra angst, y'know. Also I imagine they got trackerjacked in place of being enthralled here. It's wearing off as they age, but it's taken a toll on them. They mentored a lot over the years, since they were easy to control. But even nowadays they know well enough to keep their mouth shut, so they're probably a "favored" Victor amongst the Capitol elite.
Pearl - I couldn't figure out where to put Pearl. Canonically she's from the same town as Shelby, I think? But I don't really see her as either D3 or the alternative D5. If I had to pick between the two, probably the latter. However, I'm slotting her into D13, since they're the heart of the rebellion, and Pearl has this whole thing about "killing those who kill". I doubt she'd be chill with the whole Hunger Games thing. Maybe she was originally from a different District and her family got experimented on and turned into Mutts (instead of being werewolves, they'd be wolf-mutants), and Pearl managed to escape to District Thirteen.
Abolish - District Thirteen. Operative. He was definitely born and raised there, and was trained from birth to work for the same thing basically everyone else in D13 is working for; the destruction of the Capitol. I think he goes undercover just like he did in the original VSMP, acting as waitstaff or even posing as an Avox to gather intel on important figures in the Capitol. He probably does so a lot during the Games time of year, since there's probably a lot of important people in the same place during that time.
was thinking to myself about kendal aurora and was like ‘wow, wouldnt it be a fun headcanon if kendal and vash had different dominant hands, that’s so fun’
then i realised its a visual comic and I COULD ACTUALLY CHECK
GUESS WHAT
kendal’s left handed and vash is right handed!!!!!! am i the only one who did not notice this!!!!
@comicaurora your attention to detail makes me so so happy thank you
Is your interpretation of Grace on the ace spectrum?
certainly.
there's not a single character i dont think could be more interesting by putting them somewhere on the aroace spectrum. means you can't have a simple "omg theyre in looovvee" feeling, forces them to either have a more complex friendship, or puts them into a whole other area of relationship what doesnt fit easily into just "romance".
(not to diss any people who like romance, i just dont find romantic relationships as fun to explore in my own work)
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