#infamouscabal

he goes absolutely pale and silent (it's working. He's terrified)

e:

send  me  🍒  +  a  url  and  i  will  write  some  positivity  for  them.

@infamouscabal is that kind of person who is just, like, always busy. Kids, housekeeping, occasional soap business, bird keeper, etc etc etc. And yet still has such beautifully developed characters; I often forget Horst and Johannes aren't just their characters and when I read the novels, I forget they're not just novels Seras themself wrote. And then I'm always surprised that Lucy and Laurelai and the other ocs aren't in the novels!

also, they always have time to check in on you, which is insane. IDK how they balance it all; I certainly couldn't and don't.

in which malakh forgot all of our verse timelines so he’s winging one where Horst Turned silver during polorus-era and silver fled.

For a moment he is somewhere else in time, at a different table in a different house, with the same woman standing over him. Younger then, the way he was—is. Long John Silver hasn’t aged a day since she last knew him, though the beard and rough living make him look older than he would otherwise. Only Lucy has changed.

“I’m not going to throw you.” Horst replied in a gentle tone, keeping his arm firmly around Molly as he dragged her to the heavily insulated door. There were multiple signs warning them to keep out, that there was danger. But Horst didn’t need a sign to tell him what he already knew– the fine hairs on his arms were already standing on end from the static charge in the air. He wasn’t sure what a large amount of electricity would do to him. While Horst knew he would not die, he also knew that it would not be a pleasant experience. “What if I just sort of ease you past the door and set you down? My shoes have sensible rubber soles..”

"You can't go in there--" Molly knows that he's unlikely to listen. It's not to be contrarian; Horst was simply too good to do so. Too protective. Too gentlemanly, if there was such a thing. Just as he was unlikely to just toss her inside and close the door, he wasn’t likely to leave her on her own in this state.

One of these days, she’d get the hang of not endangering everyone else around her, too.

Cabal's voice held a note of irritation-- having a salivating nightmare at his shoulder while performing necessary pre-necromantic preperations was, to make a marked understatement, distracting. He frowned down at the cadaver upon the table, as if it might share his annoyance.

"It is not neccessary that it have sight for the purposes of this experiment."

There's a quiet breath of laughter from one of the nightmare's own eyes, like it's laughing at a joke no-one else has heard. Its voice is sticky-sweet. Flytraps, honey, and deep, spike-lined pits in dark woods come to mind. The presence of any dream, even a nightmare, is bound to make a man's imagination run a little wild--no matter how he might fight against it.

"How generous of you, Herr Cabal."

Slowly, with the air of someone preparing for a particularly decadent dessert, the Corinthian removes its glasses. It folds them, hooking one leg safely over the neckline of its shirt to keep them there, and closes in on the cadaver with near-rapturous anticipation.

"My first taste of the real thing was a cadaver, too," he says conversationally, slipping the blade into the socket to sever the little prize within. "It was a great ape, not a human. I hadn't learned yet that they're better before they die..."

A wet crunch. The sound of chewing. Whatever the Corinthian sees behind its eyelids, behind its teeth, it does not share these revelations with Cabal.

First off, Seras has managed to get me invested in a series of obscure books that each take on their own little genre, and gotten me to deeply care about rat bastard resident necromancer/scientist and his sunshine incarnate vampire brother.

Which is a lot, because I do not get into new to me things very easily or willingly due to it just being much, much easier to rewatch/reread.

Secondly, Seras is just a wonderful person and always manages to say things that I need to hear, and they're always just willing to chat. Sometimes it's wild to me, but I'm so glad that I watched you & Wilds interact with Seras and decided to follow, too, and that I've gained such a lovely friend in my life.

"Draw the short straw, did you?" He'd been watching the cop poke and prod at the box he left hours ago; it's a known factor in Gotham that the GPD will draw straws, play rock paper scissor, make deals and promises and exchange money to not have to investigate items left by the Big Name rogues.

Once, he'd heard a lady say if you get this Joker thing, I'll take the next four Riddler ones.