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mlmxreader · 8 months

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Another Chance | Johnny Cage x m!reader

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↳ ❝ oo! okay saw the prompt list, and i would LOVE a johnny cage x m!reader with “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't feel the same” and “I never wanted anybody more than i wanted you” where maybe their both actors who played love interests while actually dating but broke up and they end upon the same press tour (and hotel) because of a movie ❞

: ̗̀➛ breaking up with Johnny was the worst heartbreak you could have ever suffered, but even then, you're still willing to give him another chance when you happen to meet up again.

: ̗̀➛ swearing, smoking, angst

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It was an absolute fucking nightmare. You had been hired to play Johnny’s love interest in a Western film he was working on, and while things started out great, it soon fell through; he was busy all the time, and you were constantly in and out of each other’s lives between your jobs and personal commitments.

It was a shame, as you never actually stopped feeling for him in the slightest; the day you had agreed to break up was the worst in your life, and you had spent pretty much days tethered to your bed and refusing to budge. You kept the doors locked, refused to answer your phone even when your friends begged and pleaded for your attention for even just a moment.

You were running away from everything and everyone, wanting to escape the pain of knowing that you could never be with the man you loved; you needed him, but you couldn’t have him. Whenever people walked by your home, they always used that nobody was in, letters and parcels piling up in the porch; you just wanted Johnny.

You had hoped to be the man of his dreams, but obviously, you could never be such a thing.

When your agent contacted you, you were reluctant to pick up the phone, but you knew that if you didn’t, he would be bursting through the door and nearly taking the damn thing off of its hinges; he told you when the press tour for your latest film - the one you had just before you and Johnny had broken up - was scheduled and where your first stop would be.

You told him to make up a lie about how you were sick, but he told you that if you didn’t go, he would cancel your meeting with one of your favourite horror directors who you were hoping would give you a job.

He was well known for his insatiable appetite for gore and violence, his first film was about a group of kids at a cabin infected by something unknown, and you had been a huge fan of his work since; so you agreed, and told your agent that you would be there when you needed to be but no earlier.

For the days leading up to it, you tore yourself apart; your last press tour had been your favourite, and left you with happy memories that were all too painful. You and Johnny together, the perfect picture of a happy couple; so perfectly imperfect.

You tore yourself apart thinking about him, thinking about how he wouldn’t be there with you. Revisiting all those memories and how much you hated how they hurt.

Even when you arrived at the hotel you would be staying at, all you could do was flop down on your bed and cry into the pillows; it hurt to think that every single second only reminded you of Johnny. The fact that he wasn’t there. The dull ache in your chest soon became a gaping void that caused a sharp sting to run through your body.

You weren’t sure what had convinced you to do it, maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t eaten in so long and the hash browns smelled so good, but you did end up going down to the hotel’s buffet; you were ravenous, but looking at food only made you feel sick.

You settled on a cup of coffee, and headed outside to the smoking area as soon as you could; it was quiet, and lonely, but you only had yourself to blame for it all. Smoking your cigarette until a shadow paused in front of you.

“Hello, handsome.”

You looked up, shaking your head a little as your gaze settled on Johnny. “Mister Cage…”

“Why the formality?” He scoffed, sitting down next to you and raising a brow.

You glared at him for a moment. “Sorry, was I meant to treat you like you didn’t break my heart?”

Johnny frowned, clearing his throat as he shifted in his seat for a second. “Broke my own, too.”

“No, it didn’t,” you sighed, shaking your head. “Just… leave me alone, Johnny… you shouldn’t fucking be here…”

“I’m booked here,” he told you. “I’ve got to promote Fabuless.”

Oh, right. His film. Shit. You forgot about that, and your agent didn't fucking tell you, either.

“Right…”

“Listen,” he whispered, nudging your shoulder. “I wish, every day, we could’ve done things different… you’re my Ennis Del Mar.”

You sighed heavily as you moved away from him. “I can’t go through that again…”

“I went to your house,” Johnny admitted. “Nobody was in, so I left… but I wanted to tell you, just one last time: I never wanted anybody more than I wanted you. Still do.”

“Johnny, don’t,” you whispered. “I was a fucking fool to think that we could ever work out.”

“C’mon,” he chuckled sadly. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel the same. Tell me you don’t wish we were still together.”

“I can’t.”

“So give it another chance,” he told you. “We’re on the same tour, we’re in the same hotel - why not?”

You swallowed thickly; you knew it would only end in heartbreak, you knew that it would only end badly and that the relationship would fall through again, but… but you loved Johnny.

You could never stop loving him, and you would have crossed a thousand seas just to give him even a sign that you loved him. So you nodded, and you cleared your throat.

“Alright.”

Johnny grinned, unable to contain his excitement as he pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek, making you laugh as you weakly shoved him away. “Still the Ennis Del Mar to my Jack Twist.”

“Shut up,” you laughed, shaking your head.

He took the cigarette from you, stealing a drag before handing it back. “Is your bed cold?”

“No,” you told him. “Why would it be cold?”

“Mine is,” he said. “You should come over, help me warm it up.”

You rolled your eyes, not wanting to laugh and smile at his stupid comments. He was still the same Johnny Cage you used to love, even down to the stupidly expensive sunglasses and pricey haircut.

You couldn’t live with him, but you couldn’t live without him, and if you were honest, you were a little unsure of what to do. You didn’t want to be without him again, but you knew that it was inevitable; you knew that there would come a day when the relationship would fall through again and you would be back to square one.

But maybe, just maybe, for the tour you could chase some of that happiness that you used to have with him. Maybe it would break your heart even more than it did last time, but you loved him enough to give it another go and to try again.

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goblins-riddles-or-frocks · 1 month

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I have mostly only seen Baghra hate in Darkling apologia circles so this makes me curious. What is your overall opinion of Baghra? Especially her morality.

I like Baghra! I think she’s a really interesting character that just isn’t fleshed out very much and suffers for it. I think book one specifically just feels like LB wasn’t really thinking about her as a character as opposed to a plot device.

My general interpretation of her is that she’s probably supremely depressed by TGT era, given how inactive she is. And I mean she literally kills herself in R&R. There seems to be a huge discrepancy between the values she raised Aleksander with and what she believes in the present. I suspect the shadow fold may have something to do with that? Or again just depression. We don’t know why she stopped using her own power aside from the vague implication that it’s to protect her son’s identity, but I think it ends up painting a larger picture of someone who’s just lost interest in everything. And we do see a hint of what an entirely different person she was in the Demon in the Wood era.

I don’t have particular opinions on her morality tbqh. She seems like she never really got past the formative experience of being neglected by her father and hated by her mother and then everything that happened with her sister. Like no shit she’s not particularly emotionally well adjusted.

She seems to have had a child more out of a desire for companionship than like any particular maternal instinct. There’s mention of her trying to have thee most powerful kid ever but I suspect it’s more because she wanted to ensure immortality again more for companion ship rather than actually caring about the power itself. And with their isolated fear filled lifestyle early on, like even if she *was* the most competent parent ever (which. we have established that she was not) you wouldn’t have gotten the best results.

I feel like Darkling stans do act insane about her. Like I remember seeing conversations about aww poor Aleksander he must have felt so betrayed when Alina sided with his *abuser.* Like fuck off sjfhf it’s obviously a way more complicated dynamic than that. And I’d argue that multiple centuries in, there actually isn’t a power differential between them anymore.

But it seems like the boundaries were bad! That she almost definitely set him up for his megalomaniacal tendencies! And also that she imparted her own fears of vulnerability to him. Like I do think that with her own history of being so neglected she overcompensated by raising her son to the idea that he’s above all reproach (but her own lol) and that other people’s lives simply do not have as much worth. (The same kind of elevation and isolation that he tries to pull with Alina)

So yeah idk I think the fact that Aleksander is such a piece of work falls directly at her feet but also like. it’s understandable?

#grishaverse #grisha trilogy #shadow and bone #baghra morozova #i ramble sometimes #all the bendy punctuations #a mysterious stranger has appeared

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spudangle · 5 months

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So I've been thinking about what Astarion's life looked like before he was turned into a vampire.

We know little to nothing about Astarion’s past, besides the fact that he was a magistrate, and that he was approximately 39 years old when he was turned into a spawn by Cazador. From a storytelling perspective we don’t really need to know more than that, for one, it makes sense that he can’t remember his past, as 39 years of normalcy is nothing in comparison to 200 years of abuse, and besides, him having been a magistrate already tells us a lot just based on association.

Anyways, I actually just wanted to get into some of my headcanons for what I imagine his pre-spawn life and upbringing might have looked like.

I like to think that Astarion had the most boring upper middle class/upper class life that you can imagine.

He was brought up in a fairly wealthy family, at least wealthy enough to have a couple of servants employed, like 1-3.

And obviously his family was super snobbish, maybe not rude (though probably that too), but they were definitely grossly ignorant of the people that they deemed below them.

He became a magistrate because his father was a magistrate (or maybe his father had a higher position, but I don’t know the right terms when it comes to law), and so the same was expected of Astarion.

Not that I think that Astarion hated being a magistrate, but he probably enjoyed it more so because of the status and power that it afforded him, rather than a genuine interest in law.

His father was probably a real stick in the mud. The sort of guy who wouldn’t be all that present or interested in his son’s life unless it had to do with his education or reputation, so any parenting from his side would have been rather strict.

And while there might not have been a lot of love in their relationship I can still see a young Astarion really admiring his father, though also being a little intimidated by, if not afraid of, him.

Astarion, as a child, would definitely have threatened to have his father sue if he didn’t get his way.

“WeLl mY FAthEr WiLl sue yOuR fAtHeR…”

Astarion’s mother would have been the complete opposite of his father. Still a complete snob, but not at all a stick in the mud.

By no means a working lady, neither outside of or in the house (that’s what you have servants for), but rather a socialite, she herself coming from somewhat noble stock prior to being married.

A bit of a wine mom for lack of a better term, and she would been heeeavily into gossip, constantly being up to date on what was happening inside and outside of her social circle.

She had probably been sharing gossip with Astarion since he could talk.

She loved Astarion dearly, spoiling him rotten.

Though, she too could probably have been a bit more emotionally attentive to him.

I imagine that Astarion resembles or at least resembled his mother a lot, both in appearance and personality.

Anyways.

Astarion’s life was mundane as HELL before he became a vampire spawn.

I understand logistically why elves - especially in human societies - have to work after the age of 18, but what, he was only 39, was he supposed to spend the next 700-800 years of his life just working in law?? No adventuring out and seeing the world?? Nothing??? That must have been so boring for an elf, right???

Like seriously what did he have to look forward to???

So you have pre-spawn Astarion doing the same thing day in and day out, working in the shadow of his father.

Spending the evenings and weekends accompanying his mother to social events, which quickly became boring after a couple of years, because it was always the same people and the same boring gossip.

He wasn’t really his own person then either, always having to be presentable, having to maintain the image of his family.

The only thrills he could gain were those found when exerting power over others at court, or when spreading nasty rumors among his peers to see them erupt into chaos.

And sure it was easy and it was nice but it wasn’t very exciting.

But at least it was better than what was going to be his life for the next 200 years.

I just think that these things are so interesting to consider, when thinking about Astarion’s character. He was a part of a real family before Cazador snatched him away. He was someone’s son.

I have more thoughts, but I don’t really know if they fit in here.

#my own personal trash #text #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 headcanons #headcanons #Astarion #astarion headcanons #it's 12:35am so I don't trust my own proof reading #long post #my writing

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mouthfullofmunson · 2 years

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Rockstar eddie au, wife reader. Not wanting to be in the public eye but then one day a little snippet of your voice gets caught in the end of the track. You and eddie have a great time reading about all the wild speculations.

OMG YES I LOVE THIS

Like anytime shes knows the paps are going to be out she has her face covered, no social media (if we’re talking modern!eddie), the public has hardly ever seen her face beside part of it when she’s trying to hide

And they have never heard her voice

Not even in the back of an interview or anything

So when a soft, pretty laugh is in the end of one of Eddie’s songs

Along with his laugh and a single “Eddie” sighed out after both of their laughs die down

Well everyone instantly knew who it was

They went crazy over the little “Eddie” along with the pretty laugh

The most they have seen is a fourth of her face and a hand

So hearing the girls voice is absolutely crazy

Interviews, any press for the song the first question would be about the voice at the end of the song

“Eddie, the voice- along with yours at the end of your new single for your upcoming album- is that your wife’s voice?”

Eddie would think it was so funny and give the camera a little look, “maybe. Or maybe I just had a cold and my voice was pitchy”

And he wouldn’t confirm it until he had a long talk with his wife about it and the second he finally says it’s his wife’s voice everyone is going crazy

Headlines are filled with his name

And that, they don’t even know his wife’s name?!

But modern rockstar Eddie…

Plz

He would be such a tease

Posting little photos of his shadow along with a lady hugging around him- who is obviously his wife

Posting just their hands holding

And on their wedding night all he posts is a hand with a large ring on it holding a bouquet full of flowers

And teasing little videos of him pressing a kiss to someone’s cheek- obviously his wife

And after he releases the song he posts the video that he got the audio from

A big black heart emoji hiding the person next to his while they both laugh, her in his lap while they laugh after sharing a joint or two

Both of them would sit and laugh at all the posts and headlines about her voice

“Oh look at this one! Trying to say I don’t have a real wife and I just hired someone to pretend for attention.”

They laugh at all the crazy theory’s everyone makes up and all the wild articles people are writing

Or making random theory’s that the voice is another celebrity that Eddie hasn’t even properly met, trying to say that they were married

And he thinks it’s so funny to get her reaction, recording him, telling her the new wild theory someone made up

“Babe, someone said that I hired an actress to pretend to be my wife and I don’t actually have one”

Just another laugh “Jesus, Eddie”

And that’s the only other sound they get out for months and month

I think It would be interesting go get more into this 😢 but thank you sm for sending this in I love this concept so much!!! ❤️‍🔥

#rockstar!eddie #eddie munson #my post #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson headcanon

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loststarphounix · 4 months

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imagine the chaos (and angst) in a danganronpa roleswap au if Gundham takes up the role of being a candidate for the Kamukura project (he's also a reserve course student) and Kazuichi being the Chiaki in this situation—

the possibilities...

Yo! There was a fanfic being made with this exact concept except it was Kazuichi that was a Reserve Course and Gundham was very Nagito like teasing him about it lol Their tumblr is still on here I believe, they stated they were rewriting it but there is some art! I’ll try to find it and private message it to you.

But Gundham being apart of the Kamakura project and being the Reserve Course student is interesting! I’m gonna take it a step further and have it be that he and Hajime as still apart of the project and made into pseudo twins. Like the academy probably realized that putting every single talent known to mankind could lead to disastrous results and even worse - not willing to assist them in their goals. So it was decided to have a set of two ideal candidates that can take the burden of possessing so many talents as well as probably being more susceptible to help.

Gundham wasn’t scouted for Hope’s Peak for an unknown reason, but I like to think it’s because his dad somehow interfered. Instead, he is sent to RC so that his dad can still brag to his friends. There he meets Hajime, whose family was going bankrupt to keep up appearances. And though his parents love him, he sympathizes with Gundham and forged a friendship with him.

They meet Kazuichi by chance - I like to think that their meeting in the NWP is a little true. So imagine Gundham and Hajime are sneaking onto the main campus (Gundham making Hajime do bad things let’s go! Lol jk Hajime also makes him bad things 🤣) and they see a gaint, half made machine with legs kicking in the air. They obviously think the persons in trouble and use to help. The guy in the machine isn’t some regular guy, but the ultimate mechanic, who is freaking out that RC’s are on main campus. They promise they aren’t doing anything, just looking around and decide to go back, but Kazuichi doesn’t let them.

He was actually stuck in the machine lol - had been for a whole hour when Nagito was supposed to help him the traitor. As thanks for getting him out, he shows them around. This begins are weird friendship, with the RC’s -mainly Gundham- sneaking in the main course’s campus to visit Kazuichi. Over time, they meet the others and there’s an incident where Kazuichi is jealous of Sonia for getting close to the goth, who’s jealous of Hajime for being so close to Chiaki when it took her almost their whole first year, who is just trying to figure out how to not get overwhelmed by these amazing people and also his stalker “bully” Nagito.

When they’re approached about the Kamakura Project, they do think about refusing at first. Gundham didn’t see the point of having a talent that wasn’t originally his own and Hajime was struggling between accepting he wasn’t exceptional and the what ifs if he was.

But ultimately, Hajime accepts first. Gundham take a while, but he finally agrees because he realizes that wouldn’t be able to see Kazuichi or Sonia again after Hope’s Peak; they’d be out there, making the world better and brighter. And he’d be alone, in the dark shadow of his father. It also didn’t help that Nagito spilled the beans that Kazuichi was not only thinking of leaving because of his cruel father, but that some teen boy from his neighborhood was harassing him within the academy as a late transfer.

If he agreed to the project, then they both would be allowed on the grounds and be apart of classes. They were even offered money. He can keep Kazuichi safe. Their disappearance affects the class, but mainly Kazuichi amd Nagito. The two felt they were the closest to the RC’s, Kazuichi especially. He was finally gonna tell Gundham how he really felt about him, but all he got was a vague text message one morning and nothing else since. Both their phone numbers were unusable and no one heard from them since. Meanwhile, he’s feeling stress by his dads threats and his middle school ex-friend trying to force his way into his life again to get close to his friends - particularly Sonia and Fuyuhiko. It’s been depressing and he cries in his dorm room thinking he scared his only two best friends away.

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quilna · 1 month

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I'll be honest, I'm really curious about the god au. anything interesting to share about it? 👀 the idea of Frankenstein just calling Hyde/Jekyll out on being a god is incredibly appealing to me xD

Sorry about responding to this late, I was busy this weekend!

Ah the god au! Honestly my oldest au and one that could probably do with some tweaking and fixing up, especially since it was more than anything an excuse to draw characters in funky god outfits so a lot of aspects were very out of left-field. Not to mention, things in the comic have changed since the au was made but I can tell you what I’ve got!

I wrote a lot of this off of my memory since I've lost a lot of the old posts I made for it (They were banished to the shadow realm for containing my old, awful art) so things might be different now.

So the god system is vaguely based off of a book series called Fly by Night where there are hundreds of gods for every little thing - for example, the patron god of the main character is the god of keeping flies out of jam jars. So the gods in my au have complicated titles for rather small things and often have trouble finding worshippers.

Jekyll, specifically is the god of keeping rabbits out of the garden and he's both a trickster god and a guardian. For those he dislikes, he’ll often open garden gates, invite in pests, etc, but he’ll protect those he likes (for as long as he feels like it).

Eventually he and Lanyon meet while Jekyll is letting pests into his dad’s garden and they end up becoming good friends. However, Lanyon has to go to university and leave Jekyll behind but Jekyll takes a human form and a human name to follow him.

In the process, however, he ends up splitting himself in two. Hyde manifests into a pure trickster god as the god of letting pests into your enemy's garden and Jekyll manifests into an almost full guardian god (besides a bit of lowkey trickery on the side).

While people are very much aware that Hyde is a split-off from the original rabbit god, people aren't aware that Jekyll is that original god. As such, the news eventually gets to Lanyon that the god he once befriended all that time ago has split and he gets worried. While splitting is normal, it's often not exactly something that happens when a god is happy and, worse, he can't find the rabbit god anymore and Hyde's very obviously actively avoiding him.

Jekyll, meanwhile, is aware of none of Lanyon's internal conflict and he wants to make a society for small and little-known gods who aren’t getting enough worship to survive in the hopes of helping them.

Frankenstein is one of the few gods to be considered big. She's the goddess of freezing the dead (rigor mortis) so they don’t return which makes her well-worshipped. With some more recent reveals in the comic, I think I’d say that her title also isolates her a lot. Sure, it’s important to make sure the dead stay dead but it’s still death. Her name is still one that people curse when someone is taken prematurely.

When she arrives at the society, injured by her fight with another god, Moreau, she’s treated like an idol by the other gods. However, she recognises that Jekyll isn’t as human as he appears and assumes that whatever reason a god would have to pretend to be human to lead a society of gods wouldn’t be any good one. On the other hand, she's too injured to directly call him out for this so she spends her time quietly and subtly drawing gods away from his side and back to hers.

Of course, she’s more than a little peeved off when Jekyll is finally revealed and instead of being some terrible god of darkness or evil, she’s literally just caught a rabbit god. She hasn’t even caught one of the more dangerous trickster gods, she’s caught the guy who pretends to be human, asks for people’s hospitality and, whenever people are rude to him back, releases a hoard of rabbits into their garden while cackling and thinks this is the absolute height of mischief.

Being a known trickster god and all, I imagine the reactions from most of the lodgers is just groaning and complaints. It’s pretty standard for them but probably a lot more of a shock for the poor humans like Robert who are outside of the usual god politics and now have to deal with the knowledge that their friend was a god the entire time (Lanyon has a crisis over telling a literal god “Why would anyone give up their future prospects for someone like you?”)

Anyway, it’s vague and I’m not sure I remember every aspect of it but a bunch of small notes:

Griffin is actually a god of evil who once reigned terror over a small town. Joining the society is a form of community service for him to learn his lesson.

Hyde insists that he’s a hare god, not a rabbit god (because hares look creepier and more otherworldly. He’s still a rabbit though and everyone knows it)

Doddle was another trickster god and fully aware of Jekyll’s identity but, by trickster code, kept quiet about the whole deal. It’s very rude to ruin another trickster’s tricks after all.

I can’t remember what titles I gave a lot of the lodgers but I think Flowers was the goddess of keeping moths from eating holes in your clothes?

Hyde very much keeps up Jekyll’s old charade of pretending to be a human and then punishing those who are rude to him with pests in their gardens. Not even pests in their houses or anything, that’s out of his jurisdiction, so if they don’t keep a garden or plants he just has to grumble about it. I imagine at least once, someone who wronged him in the past finally got themselves a house plant and Hyde absolutely leapt on the opportunity immediately, basically flooding them with caterpillars, slugs, and at least one live rabbit just in their actual house because it's close enough to a garden, dammit!

#quilna's asks #god au

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calamari-minecraft-corner · 3 months

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you are so down bad for these block men /pos... tell me more

DHDJSKSKSJ LISTEN- WHEN THE HORRORS HAPPEN I GO DOWN HARDER FOR THE BLOCK MEN TO COPE— /lh /aff

And more u say? 👀 *brings out my book of prisontrio sins*

Listen- I’ve said it before but Con!Cala has the unintentional rizz- she doesn’t mean to flirt but it happens because she doesn’t realize what she’s saying or implying sometimes. But that being said it goes OVER her head a lot when people flirt to her.

So like- c!Quackity immediately trying to flirt with her and she’s taking it at face value and being her innocent lovely self- and it is funny trust me it is.

Like something along the lines of “maybe I should give you a private lesson on how to play poker sometime ;)” and her innocently replying “Oh! That’ll help a lot actually! I’ve always wanted to play poker! My favorite part of it is the colorful chips I see on the table-“ and she would ramble on how she used to see her dad playing poker and how she would play with the chips a lot when she was younger—

It’s really funny to be honest especially when he’s so Obviously trying to flirt but it goes over her silly head

c!Sam my beloved— motherfucker would loom so much over Cala. Like you think Dream looms over her a lot? Think again. Look at the height comparison:

Like he fucking SHADOWS over her.

And Cala wouldn’t mind!!! Because she just think he’s being protective and likes hanging around her. Which it’s true!! But he’s also just like- having his own moment of “this is an absolute pure being and I need to protect her at all costs”. And he just follows her basically everywhere. And Cala would just show him a lot of things and everything, similar to like how she does to Dream in the con au— and in a way he would have this moment of realizing that she’s just like him if things were different, and I think that’s why he’s latching onto her so much. He would have his moment of “I shouldn’t let her and Dream stay together too long because what if he destroys this one innocent thing”- like his skewed perception of the two would be really interesting.

Now for the prison man himself, Dream— At first in the con au he’s very wary of Cala but he realizes so fast that she’s not a threat and probably the most helpful person he’s had in a while. So he really doesn’t leave her side much or at all. I feel like that habit would stay a lot unintentionally. So if they’re ever apart and he’s not with his friends or Techno he gets on edge since he’s just “where is Cala-“ since she’s very small and can get lost easily and because that’s a safe person now. He just curls around her like a cat a lot of times honestly— and he does not like when Quackity and Sam try to get close to her for obvious reasons. Everyone else is mostly fine, but he’s just very wary on it. He knows that look in Sam’s eye since he’s seen that look when he looks at him- and Quackity well, he would fucking slaughter him if there is even a scratch on her. He doesn’t stop her from interacting with them but the second they try something he steps in to steer the conversation. It’s the thing of “if she wasn’t in the way I would kill you both for good-“

I Have a lot of feelings on them since they’re rotating in my head atm so please have more asks/suggestions/scenarios HDJSSKSKSK

#cala rambles #dsmp #dreamsmp #con au #dream smp #c!dream #self insert #c!sam #c!quackity #c!awesam #Cala’s self ship sins

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heloflor · 1 month

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Random Mario headcanon: while Peach does have powerful magic, she actually doesn’t know how to use it, at least not by herself. Basically to use her magic she needs to trigger a “spark” of sorts, but has no idea how to do so and as a result can’t use it unless someone else triggers that spark for her.

Explaining how it works in the games’ canon and giving some more details on my Toadstool magic hcs (spoilers for pretty much all the RPGs + Showtime’s ending; 1k words below):

- In Paper Mario 64, Kammy calls Peach’s action “wishes from normal people”, meaning she’s not using any particular magic.

- In Thousand Years Door, she uses healing magic upon regaining some control from the Shadow Queen. Considering the Shadow Queen is using magic, possibly Peach’s magic, it means Peach could have been able to access it in the moment.

- In Mario and Luigi Partners in Time, the Cobalt Star could have been the one with the magic to imprison Elder Princess Shroob, or it triggered Peach’s magic. Though the fact Peach can summon stars at the end kinda shows she can use magic on her own.

- In Bowser’s Inside Story and Dream Team, Peach only uses magic when Starlow is using her own magic as well, meaning Starlow could be the one triggering hers.

- Ok I’ll be honest I can’t explain it for Super Mario RPG other than “she’s not actually using magic” or “Geno is a spirit of the stars so his presence would unlock her powers”, though in that second case it doesn’t even fully work since the whole point of the team looking for stars is that wishes can’t be granted anymore.

- In Showtime, Peach’s magic ribbon comes from Stella, same for the outfits. Her Radiant transformation also comes from the hopes and dreams of the Theets fused with Sparkles and Stella. I could also see Stella triggering Peach’s magic in the case of the ribbon + Radiant.

- In Super Princess Peach, you could imagine that the Vibe Scepter is basically letting out “particles” of emotions in the air, and when one touches someone, it affects them. For Peach, her magic would protect her by absorbing those particles, but it also causes her magic to accumulate them.

Because of that, whenever she feels a strong emotion, all those particles her magic gathered get released at once, thus giving her those powers. So the powers wouldn’t come from her using her magic willingly, instead her magic does its own thing and she has to realize it and work around it.

As a result, she can control when the powers get triggered by keeping calm as much as possible and thinking of happy/sad/angering things when needed (or other methods like pinching herself to cry or asking Perry to insult her to get angry, dumb funny things like that).

This could also explain why there’s a timer that then needs to be refilled when using emotions or even why emotional enemies don’t get powers like she does but instead just move faster or in a different pattern, as they would have less emotions in them since the first particle that touches them would influence them.

- In case it needs to be said, everyone in the sports games have special abilities so I don’t consider those to be her using magic.

So yeah, while there are obviously instances of her using healing magic that negates this idea, it still holds up to an extent. And it’s especially interesting to headcanon when you consider how many RPG villains know how to exploit her magic for themselves (Cackletta, Fawful, the Shadow Queen, Antasma tried before turning to Bowser, I like to think the Chaos Heart was born from an exchange of two widely different magics with the wedding being the ritual needed to create the heart specifically).

Going deeper into this idea, I hc that in the past all Toads had magic but the Royal Family eventually discouraged everyone from using it aside from them. History books would say it’s to protect the population, the truth is that the Monarchy wanted that power for themselves and/or were afraid of the people taking over the throne if they can be more powerful than them (especially since I hc that it’s common for rulers to marry citizens, as long as said citizen is able to handle the work that goes with becoming royalty; this is also why each kingdom still has a ruler the same species as them after centuries of those kingdoms existing).

There would still be some Toads who kept their magic (like the doctor from Bowser’s Inside Story) but they would be incredibly rare on top of trying to keep it a secret just in case them having it is forbidden as there would be no written law saying what is and isn’t allowed on that front.

As such, the knowledge of how to use these powers is told from parent to child, with sometimes another person being given the info in case the rulers die before their heir is of age to learn. In Peach’s case, her parents’ death was a complete surprise, meaning no-one had that knowledge.

So for the longest time, she didn’t even think she had magic. And when the RPGs happened, she would’ve tried to use it herself but can’t find the thing triggering its use, taking a while to come to terms with the fact that she could never use it by herself, but that doesn’t mean she can’t be a hero in a different way.

And for those asking why doesn’t she use a Koopa wand, this goes into this idea of the Chaos Heart being born from mixing Koopa and Toadstool magic. She’s afraid that trying to learn the Koopa ways of using magic might cause another catastrophe, which it probably would.

Last small thing, outside of angst the main reason for this headcanon is to justify both Peach never using magic outside of RPGs and the fact she goes from being able to yeet Bowser out the window in one game to being completely helpless against two paratroopas holding her in the very next game of the same series. Basically it’s to explain the inconsistencies with it.

It can also justify the Mushroom Kingdom not falling into the hands of Koopas, Goombas etc before Mario and Luigi were around despite Toads being unable to defend themselves in the present time (basically the Toadstool family was able to use their magic to boost the strength of their army, which Peach can’t do).

#Super Mario #Princess Peach #Flor talks #long post #this has been sitting in my folders for a while but I wanted to play Mario RPG first to have something to say about it #I also have a spm WIP with a long beginning all about how much the events of the RPGs are affecting Peach's mental state #and how her inability to use magic coupled with all those villains capturing her for it take a huge toll on her #(god I need to edit and post my Mario fics already some of those have been sitting in my folders for almost a year now)#yes I know technically Peach could ask one of the Toads who still have their magic to teach her #but I like the idea of her having this power that's unreachable outside of specific conditions

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ivyveil · 2 years

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Support Your Local Business (Eddie Munson)

the one where Y/N was her old school's main plug and Eddie doesn't need competition fucking up his sales

genre: dr*gs :O, they get physically close <3, Y/N has a diary which is honestly a trigger for some people (including me b/c I forget to write in mine)

A/N: Inspiration from this idea I had. Trying to get my feet wet again in the realm of fanfic, would love to know your <3 thoughts <3 and if there's any ideas y'all have as well! The ST universe is sooo interesting and Eddie is genuinely a deeply fleshed out character for :'( what happened :'( ANYWAY enjoy and ty for reading!

Navigating the druggies of a high school is more complex than people give credit for. Frankly, it’s an art.

You’d be safe to assume the art kids dabbled, their paintbrushes swapped for poorly rolled joints and their sketchbooks crammed ajar by plant bits along the spines. Athletes were a hit-or-miss, depending on their aspirations to make it in the Big Leagues of universities, but as those with their own secrets tend to do, they wouldn’t be likely to rat you out to any semblance of authority. The more studious of the student population were almost guaranteed to be customers around finals, and it was within your moral code to give swell discounts if they’d pass your name along to those at their tutoring sessions. A symbiotic environment, if you will, requires a constant input of energy to maintain homeostasis. And from roots to powders to flowers, you were the main girl for energy.

But that was Micanopy, Florida. And this was Hawkins, Indiana.

School had been in session for a few weeks now, your entrance and new-ness to the small town having begun to lose its sparkly edges. Eyes only tended to follow your shape when you'd fuck up the fashion taste of the Midwest again, being a newcomer to actual seasons and all. But to no worry, for this meant: it was time to set up shop.

You had some stash left over from your time in Florida. Having to leave in the middle of summer meant you had been maintaining an inventory to carry you through the parties drenched in humidity and sloppy mosquitoes, but couldn’t clean it out quick enough before the landlord began tossing your shit out of the AC and into the swamp. He only had so much mercy for a minor who was obviously lying about when their parents were coming back - and more importantly, was 3 months behind on rent.

A rare sense of desperation had led you to call your grandparents, on your mother’s side, who were still living nestled in Hawkins and had no clue where their Lucinda was, either. Aghast at the notion of you making it by on your own, they opened their doors immediately and scrapped some of their savings to pay for your flight up. While grateful, you were beginning to understand why your mother had made her Great Escape from the small-ass town to begin with.

But the monotony of attending a dreary school, heading home, ensuring your grandmother had the oven turned on for dinner, and heading back out to the Hawkins High Gymnasium to trade out some baggies was a cycle you’d never settle into too deep of a comfort with, as one overly warm Tuesday would shake it up forever.

“What d’you think you’re doing, exactly?”

The sound came before the visual, a shadow cutting off your inspection of your nail beds.

Berkeley, an acquaintance from your geography class and your local business promoter, had just disappeared around the corner and you hadn’t expected company til the next group of shifty juniors arrived at 4:00. Despite never touching the goods herself (which made her the obvious employee choice), Berkeley was sweet and at 5’9, offered the perfect bodyguard-esque profile when the beefier clientele requested time in your books. Several athletes had just left, rendering her services closed for the day (and she had some plans with a band kid she was really looking forward to, you didn’t have the heart to ask her to stay).

But this boy was neither beefy nor a junior–raising your eyes, immediately your attention drew to his handcuff-style belt, his hands stacked pointedly on his narrow hips. You were familiar with his onset layers of bedragged jackets, but on this abnormally warm day, all that donned his chest were a thin grey tee and a faded crimson plaid overwear.

Eddie.

“Think I’m resting against a wall, Munson.”

You knew where this was going, and frankly was surprised it had taken so long to catch his attention. Maybe disappointed?

“You said you’d never tried drugs here before, now you’re out here selling?” His eyes narrowed, and when he leaned in slightly you caught a faint trace of nicotine.

Feigning nonchalance, you shrugged. You put your hands behind to the small of your back, swaying slightly against the cool bricks.

“Just getting rid of some stash I had from Florida, Ed. ‘S no big deal, shouldn’t affect your business.”

“Well it does-” Eddie’s voice crept into singing territory, something that would’ve made you significantly more scared if he had been in musical theater (they never know a cue to stop) “-when you’re offering Teddie McGuffason prices 30% below mine. He pays my electric, sweetheart, and I like my electric.”

You blinked at him innocently. “How are you failing math? I was aiming for 40, but guess I missed.”

You supposed this was all due to your first meeting with Eddie–right before establishing your consumer base, you’d decided to do some market research in who was already supplying Hawkins’ darlings with adrenaline, booze, and more. And once you did, he became a fixation for your small-town boredom.

As previously expressed, it’s difficult to pinpoint who to ask when it comes to buying drugs at school, especially when you don’t know a single soul to rely on for helpful advice. People tended to be suspicious of strangers–even more so when they’d known the school their whole life–and you didn’t want to come off like a narc. Which meant all of the obvious potheads were out of the count, for they tended to be the most paranoid. The highs are high and the lows are low.

It had turned out to be simpler than you reckoned–after a few misses and awkward cover ups, it was Berkeley who came to your rescue, after overhearing an unsuccessful to suss out the football team. No matter how hard you implied it, the big boy just wasn’t understanding what you were after. He’d even given you his number, in a daft sort of confusion.

“Howard’s not the brightest,” Berkeley said with a laugh, leaning against the lockers,“But it has nothing to do with what’s in Eddie’s lunchbox.”

At this point in your friendship, she was merely the girl two rows back from you who commented on your shirt once, saying she admired the color. It was a standard blue, but to a girl in a new town, that was a bold move indicating a fast kinship ahead. Although not discernable in any particular clique in the school, her pleated dresses and appropriately fluffed hair indicated a sense of conformity that read as hospitable. Berkeley could be trusted.

“I’m actually headed to Eddie’s now, I’m picking up for my younger brother ‘n his friends. They’re scared of him,” she swung her arms, holding several textbooks to her chest, as if attempting to dismiss the fear as nothing but misplaced, “I can make the introduction, if you’d like? He doesn’t like to meet new people, but I guess there haven’t been many new people for him to meet.”

You two soon were ducking into the brush of the forest, the tree leaves parting a forgiving shade from the warmth of the season. From what Berkeley had said, you’d assumed you were headed directly to Eddie’s house. But she stopped before a picnic table, sat in an empty clearing a few yards away from the fields.

The infamous grey lunchbox rested on the table’s end furthest from you, the gangly boy’s sneakers tucked onto the seat and his whole body crouched before a shaky joint he was in the middle of rolling. It was a Kodak moment, of sorts–a squashed portrayal of boyish and rugged, dirty man.

Sensing someone’s presence, the corners of his lips drew up from its purse and he began to speak as he inspected his handywork.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Ms. Berks back to do a little delivery for Tommy dearest. Tell me, is he still scared I’m hexing the goods?”

“Ah, he’ll get over it,” Berkeley rolled her eyes, “But if you are happenin’ to do so, would you mind hexing him into taking a shower every now ‘n again? Boy smells like he’s living in the locker rooms.”

At this, Eddie let out a quick laugh, tucking the roll behind his ear and standing straight up on the bench seat. With his full attention now on his customer, it took approximately a millisecond for him to notice your presence as well. You, stood far below, head craned back to take a proper gander at the hand-sewn patches, frizzy curls, and scattering of rings adorning his clenched knuckles. He did the same to you, from above, spotting the fresh look of someone who hadn’t been bored to tears by every inch of the town yet. You were New and he hadn’t accounted for New. He wasn't sure he liked it.

“Who’s this?”

“She’s from Florida.”

“People are from there? I thought they just went there to die.”

“They kept tryin’ but didn’t take, so they let me go.”

It seemed your ability to speak threw Eddie for a shock, as he fell backwards off the bench. More aptly–threw himself off the bench, and after a quick scamper up, he, unperturbed, dusted the stray pebbles off his jacket before thrusting his hand before yours. Now it was a wider smile, teeth shining, and his eyes sparkling with an open sense of welcome that had your stomach twinge with...something.

“Hi, how’d’yo’do, I’m Eddie Munson–Town Freak, Dungeon Master, and Housewife to lovely Mary J. It is a pleasure...?”

You finished him off with your name, unable to keep some nervous laughter in as he grasped, and shook, one of your hands with both of his wrapped firmly around. Despite his appraisal from before, the eye contact was kept at this closer distance, and you were feeling uncomfortably noticed. You heard Berkeley mutter an Oh Jesus.

“Does the Floridian want some too,” his head turned back to Berkeley, “or is she just getting the full Hawkins tour?”

Berkeley shrugged at that, turning towards you. Originally, you had planned on sussing out the town’s dealer to see what they were missing, potentially sell your stash over to them and leave the business entirely. There were too many risks from the start, and not knowing your clientele could be a real shot to the foot. But there was something about Eddie that dug under your skin, not wanting the conversation to turn business-focused so quickly. You decided you needed to learn more about him - as a responsible interested party should for business.

So you let out a few white lies, about never having done weed before (a classic), and pretty soon you, Eddie, and Berkeley were all tucked away in the picnic bench. Legs swinging against the cement, shared smoke spilling from your throats.

“Wanted to try your product out, see my competition,” you explained, raising an eyebrow.

Back against the brick wall, Eddie’s face was more contorted with annoyance than welcome, his jaw tightening as his eyes shifted down from your nails, to your face, to the soccer team practicing out on the fields. Although it didn’t feel as warm, perhaps, as that first memory, it certainly felt more natural to have this character of a man treating you more as a nuisance than something of interest. The balance had been struck and you were determined to keep the paces.

He looked cute when he was pissed off, easy on the eyes and loud on the ears. Was best to have him ranting, rather than looking, lest he see the hearts you were half-sure formed in your pupils by the minute.

(“Men who are hot, it comes at a cost,” Berkeley had stated factually, when you mentioned your slight crush to her once. “His just potentially happens to be human sacrifice.”

“And who are we to judge?” you crowed, tapping beer bottles against hers. She rolled her eyes but cheers-ed along with, dutifully taking a sip before agreeing, “Not I!”)

“And after your stash is gone?” he sighed, hands splaying briefly out to his sides.

“Hmm, maybe I’ll see if I could sort out some supply chain practices. Hey!” you snapped your fingers, as if an idea had just struck, “Who do you use?”

Eddie was not amused.

“Look, Y/L/N, I’m all for local businesses and I definitely don’t fuck with any sort of monopoly. But I’m starting to lose customers to your shenanigans and” one of his long fingertips pressed against your shirt “Reefer Rick is loyal to me, and me only.”

Silence hung between you both, the tension palatable with irritation. Your stomach felt like you’d gone down a roller coaster with no warning. This was too close. Too close. Too close. Initiate Plan Eddie Step Away Before I Kiss Your Nose Tip.

“Sorry, is his government name Reefer Rick? Or was that an alliterative business decision?”

“Christ, how th’fuck you think I’d know?” His finger lowered, his body flinging around in typical Eddie fashion. Plan achieved.

“He’s old as shit, they could’ve named it after him. Just don’t even try going down that road, because that’s when I’d start taking this personally.” His rambunctious fidgeting came to a pause, his focus narrowing on you once more.

“And you don’t want me taking this personally, Y/N, right?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, his body shifting more languidly as his implied threat hung in the air. While fear definitely played its role in your reaction to his bristling annoyance, there was undeniably a thrill that shocked the back of your neck. Now this was something outside the mundane, this was New.

You were overcome with the feeling Eddie Munson was nothing but a performance, and he had every scene rehearsed to perfection. He was absolutely the wackiest, nerdiest drug dealer you’d ever met (and Florida didn’t have this notion of one-per-school, that’s for sure) but despite the obnoxious tales you’d heard secondhand, you couldn’t let him go. There was something you understood, something crazy you could see behind his eyes, a transparency you loathed in yourself and wanted to peel off on him.

But giving up your sales? Eddie would dissipate quicker than you could take up a line, your paths rarely to cross again. His home out in Forest Hills was agonizingly close to your grandparents’ modest house but with differing schedules and his proclivity towards actively spending time with freshmen, it wouldn’t be reliable. You liked reliable. Reliable but distant but close but not intimate. Easy.

“Excuse me?” a gentle, scared voice whimpered. You looked to the side and saw Peter, your next client.

“Toots, Eds. Gotta make my bag,” you winked at him, quick, and honestly without thinking (because if you had it would have never happened, the process and set-up of a wink took months of confidence build-up that only burst through due to a happenstance of absolute insanity, for sure. A fucking wink! Your diary was going to get pages of content from this moment alone).

Eddie sucked his tongue against his teeth, clearly displeased by your dismissal. Taking a few steps backward, he raised a hand your way. “Wormhole Coffee’s looking for some new staff. Might be worth looking into, when you’re out of a jo-b!” he called out, tilting his head in mocking shame.

You jeered some nonsensical gibberish his way, throwing together something about how his blends weren't even that good anyway and shouldn't he be bullying some freshmen about their lack of dexterity.

At the last second, before he pivoted on his sneaker heel and took off towards his van, there was a brief moment where you were both smiling at each other. And it was pure, it was warm, and it was enough contact to whirl you into action. As soon after Peter became another satisfied customer supporting his local business, you were going home and calling Berkeley to find out where this fucking Reefer Rick lived...

A/N: side-note if eddie was my plug i would simply die. I have some ideas to make this into a mini series but it fully depends on how I feel about this in the morning <3 so def lmk what you thought here and check out my other works here xoxo

#eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #stranger things 4 #joe quinn blurb #joseph quinn blurb #joseph quinn fanfic #joe quinn fanfic

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apocalypticavolition · 3 months

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Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 44: Five Will Ride Forth

Well we're reaching the end of the second book folks, so that's exciting! Soon my posts will only be unreasonably spoiling thirteen Wheel of Time books instead of fourteen - not that I don't spoil book one mind you, just that it's hardly fair to complain about spoilers for that in a post on book two. Is this sufficient warning not to keep reading for such folks or must I go on?

We get the Aes Sedai flame in this chapter because of Bornhald's delusions and Verin's machinations, though ironically the latter are much more about grabbing fate in the saidin-style I discussed a few chapters back.

Perrin decided it was not lack of interest in strangers on the villagers’ part; they were carefully avoiding looking at him and the others. These people had learned not to show curiosity about strangers, even strangers who were obviously not Seanchan. Strangers might be dangerous these days on Toman Head.

Not only that, but under the Seanchan regime, knowing about strangers can be dangerous. Much better to be able to say to the secret police that people came and went but you don't know anything about them than to risk conversations where you might learn just enough to seem like a person of interest.

“Who knows why they do anything?” Mat muttered. “Seanchan don’t seem to need a reason for killing people. None I can figure out, anyway.”

Mat will figure it out going forward and really I don't think he'll much like having the knowledge.

Perrin kept an even closer watch than the other two; he had his own reasons for not wanting to meet Whitecloaks. The axe in my hands. Light, what I wouldn’t give to change that.

And yet Perrin doesn't actually mean it yet. He could toss the axe away at any time after all, to at least change potential future atrocities and also the real one that'll happen in book ten. But he keeps it, knowing what he's capable of it with it, and it's not good that he does.

“They aren’t following,” he said. “How can you be sure?” Mat demanded. “I am!” he snapped, then more softly, “I just am.”

Since Mat has no context for understanding how Perrin might be able to know this without the obvious wrong guess, I wonder if he's worried that he's going to start channeling at any moment himself. They are all three of them connected after all.

Put the prisoners in the inn with as much food and water as they can carry, then nail all the doors and shutters closed. Make them think I am leaving some men to stand guard, yes?

The Whitecloaks might not have any a'dam of their own, but they still love committing what atrocities they can. Balefire the whole fucking peninsula and let the Wheel sort it out I say.

No wait that's an atrocity too. Dammit.

He was still not sure which of the two arrow-riddled women he had stared at afterwards had been the Aes Sedai.

Nice and subtle foreshadowing here.

Be sure he understands that we can no longer count on the Tar Valon witches being content with manipulating events from the shadows. If they fight openly for the Seanchan, we will surely face them elsewhere.

And here we see how damaging an irrational hatred is. For all the flaws of the White Tower, the women of Tar Valon will not engage in any battles for quite a long time. If Bornhald had been able to understand that the Seanchan had their own channelers and that they weren't aligned with the Tower, his warning might have been quite different. Hell, his whole approach might have changed.

“Whoever it was, he is not accounted for, no? And he may carry word of us to the Seanchan.” “A Darkfriend would surely do so, my Lord Captain.”

Wrong again! The Whitecloaks very impressively manage to live in a world with black, white, and occasional gray morality and still manage to oversimply the fuck out of it. They could have done so much more for the west if they'd been capable of critical thought.

Far above their heads, a huge, winged shape circled, unnoticed.

Thinking two dimensionally against a three dimensional enemy.

“Heron Wading in the Rushes,” Ingtar said. He sat with his back against a tree, sliding a sharpening stone along his sword and watching Rand. “You should not be bothering with that one. It leaves you completely open.”

Ingtar betrays his own character flaws here. Besides showing that he has no thought for sword forms except for how they can help him inflict violence upon others, he shows he doesn't understand the worth of self-sacrifice to get victory. It was this very short term thinking that led to his fall to the Shadow after all, and this is why he had to die to redeem himself.

“It’s only for balance, Ingtar.” Rand wavered on one foot, and had to put the other down to keep from falling.

Meanwhile Rand foreshadows his own issues metaphorically pretty well. He tries to spend all of his time in a sword form over the course of the story and it's only when he gets back to standing upright that he can succeed.

“With ta’veren, what happens is what was meant to happen. It may be the Pattern demanded these extra days. The Pattern puts everything in its place precisely, and when we try to alter it, especially if ta’veren are involved, the weaving changes to put us back into the Pattern as we were meant to be.”

Verin will be dealing with this one the hard way later!

“To help Mat find the dagger,” he said sharply, “and Ingtar find the Horn.” And Fain, he added to himself. I have to find Fain if it isn’t already too late.

Two outta three ain't bad, Rand.

“Five ride forth,” she murmured.

It's a good thing no one pays attention to Verin or they might get a lot more nervous.

No, Loial, you must stay behind, too. There are no Ogier on Toman Head. You would attract as many eyes as all the rest put together.

Thank goodness Verin is here to do the thinking for them. They probably would have ridden, all twenty of them, if she hadn't been.

Rand peered at the sketched wheel as Ingtar went on with his instructions. It was a broken wheel, now, with only four spokes. For some reason that made him shiver.

The Seanchan would probably say it was a bad omen to tally your soldiers before combat and then to partially destroy the tally too and the Pattern is about to demonstrate why that is.

Next time: Nynaeve and Rand become masters of terrible weapons.

#let's read #wheel of time #wot #robert jordan #wheel of time spoilers #wot spoilers #perrin aybara #hurin #mat cauthon #geofram bornhald #jaret byar #rand al'thor #loial #uno nomesta #verin mathwin #ingtar shinowa

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blackknightax · 2 months

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So we’ve discussed two big series but now let’s discuss a series with only one representing member. Let’s talk about F-Zero. Obviously representing F-Zero is the mighty, the loved, quite possibly over all favorite of all of smash bros, Captain Falcon.

Captain Falcon uses an original move set because F-Zero is a racing game series. Off topic but with how much love Captain Falcon has I’m SHOCKED they haven’t made a spinoff that is just the captain doing other things, at this point Captain Falcon is more popular because of smash than F-Zero. I have known a few people who have never played or even heard of F-Zero and thought Captain Falcon was a smash original character.

Onto adding a character. There is only really one, requested character and one character who some would rather see not be an assist trophy. This being Black Shadow and Samurai Goroh. I like Samurai Goroh alright and he’d be okay but the fans would HATE HIM because fans are getting tired of characters who’s gimmick is “i have a sword!” To the point that “sword character” is almost an insult at this point. Asked for Black Shadow… by far, the single, least interesting character design F-Zero has to offer. He just wouldn’t be interesting he’s a man in a black jumpsuit that that includes a hood that has, horns… he just isn’t interesting. The only reason I’d want him in, is if they gave him Ganondorf’s move set in order to give Ganon a move set that more befits the character. SO my choice is

ZOOOOOOODAAAAAAAA! Well, Zoda, one of the more eccentric character designs F-Zero has to offer. His machine is the death anchor, a vehicle with high speed, high acceleration and terrible everything else! It’s a very hard machine to use making Zoda one of the hardest characters to play. I imagine he’s not a loved character to play as. But that’s why this is my choice and, not yours lol.

So i said yesterday i had a full gimmick and move set for this. So to talk about the gimmick, I want to talk about a game mechanic of F-Zero. In that series you have what is known as boost power, boost power is a turbo boost you can use any time you want, but the bar that shows how much boost you have, also is your health bar, you can boost until your down to one, then one crash causes your machine to explode, you die and you DNF the race, losing automatically. So now that we discuss, my gimmick, Zoda will utilize boost power, not for speed, but for power. All of his special moves can be enhanced (think EX attacks in other fighting games) by, I dunno, double tapping the B button? I admit this part is half baked, anyway, when you use the enhanced version of an special, you gain percent, like 5 to 15 percent. So to perform a more powerful special move you have to hurt yourself. Now let’s talk the move set I have in mind. Like Captain Falcon he’ll have an entirely original move set.

Neutral B is a move I call boost magnet. He puts his hand out and it gains a magnet effect on either the closest opponent or all opponents depending on what would be more balanced. If an opponent goes into his hand he performs a grapple attack on the enemy, when used in the air you control what direction he throws. If you use boost power you deal 15 damage to yourself and he pulls much much harder, and the opponent he catches gets hit by a grapple that does massive damage and is meant to be kill move.

Up B is a move I call reverse anchor named for his machine, he uncharacteristically dives directly up but stops all horizontal movement, this does not cause special fall. When boost power is used he goes significantly higher and if he goes into an opponent he jumps off them and does the move again, all this at the cost of 5 percent this also causes special fall .

Side B I call death lunge, he lunges in the direction you pressed and if he hits it launches them a little up, allowing for follow ups, when used in the air it doesn’t cause special fall. At the cost of 5 percent boost power can be used to increase the distance and instead of launching the opponent it actually stuns them allowing for a guaranteed follow up, when used in the air it causes special fall.But when used in the air it stops all vertical momentum.

At the cost of 10 percent death lunge and reverse anchor can be canceled into one another using boost power. When you cancel UpB into SideB you do death lunge with reverse anchor’s upward momentum. If you do it the other way you do reverse anchor with death lunge’s forward momentum. Doing either cancel will cause you to go into special fall.

I’ll admit I don’t have a down B that makes sense in this move set… only one I come up with a boost power set up move, the issue is that would mean there’s a way to use boost power, without dealing damage to yourself, which is not line with what I want Zoda to be.

I want Zoda’s play style to be kind of a risk reward play style built around just bullying your opponent. So I want boost power to always have that cost of damaging Zoda.

#Super smash bros #Daily post #day 4 #F-zero #Zoda #Captain Falcon #rambling #unfiltered thoughts

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seriousbrat · 5 months

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Can you do more hcs of Lily? Ive recently read Falls the Shadows and its amazing so far.

omg thank you so much and also good timing! I was already thinking of posting some. this is long but here you go:

let me start by saying lily wasn’t perfect. she was often insecure, stubborn (VERY stubborn), weepy, immature, wore her heart on her sleeve

i also want to say that while I don’t like the “self righteous law abiding bookworm” characterisation of lily that we used to see all the time, I actually do think she had a certain self-righteous streak but it was less hermioneish in nature and more that she was quick to leap to the defence of others. more harryish 🥲

she’s sort of similar to james in that her morals were CRYSTAL CLEAR and she’d stand by them to the death

as lily got older and more self-assured her self-righteous streak took a bit of a twist from lawful/neutral good to chaotic good in that she became much more willing to pick a fight

actually, she had a bit of a temper. Harry’s anger issues definitely came from her, as she would absolutely have blown up her sister-in-law Marge had she overheard her bullying her son. Not that James wouldn’t have been angry, but I think he would have resorted to tearing Marge down psychologically rather than a spur of a moment reaction of the sort Lily and Harry would have

lily was popular, especially with boys, but didn’t always realise it. People just liked her, as she was funny, pretty, and unfailingly kind. However, Lily had a core little group of girls that she stuck by through her years at Hogwarts. Eventually, through dating James she became good friends with the Marauders too, particularly Sirius.

During their seventh year is when Lily and Sirius developed a close bond, he was the Marauder she was closest to apart from (obviously) James. Despite their previously antagonistic relationship, they discovered that they actually had a lot in common— particularly a certain impulsiveness. He was also very brutally honest about pureblood society and how muggleborns were perceived, which Lily actually appreciated bc most people weren't

While she was initially warmer to Remus than the others, I differ from fanon in that, upon discovering Remus was a werewolf, Lily did not immediately understand it. Her view of the wizarding world was shaped by what she had been taught, and they’d been taught in DADA that werewolves were dark creatures that had to be fought. Obviously she felt really guilty when she discovered the whole truth, but this was a big learning moment for her, as well as a key shift in how she thought about the rest of the Marauders. I just don't think, particularly at that time, that those kinds of prejudices would be so easily cast off. And it's interesting to have Lily go through a bit of development of her own, like James

She was empathetic to a fault. Although she never forgave Severus, years later she still felt sorry for him, and struggled with feelings of guilt over ending the friendship. Lily attended Tobias Snape’s funeral, and that was the last time she and Severus ever saw each other.

She actually felt attracted to James for many years before they got together, though she wasn’t really aware of it, she just had a strange whirl of hormones and anger in there than made her interpret her feelings as simply very strong hatred towards him. JKR basically confirmed this in an interview once but still. Like she (correctly) thought he was a dick but somehow like… she was a little too into arguing with him tbh

the class differences between lily and james were definitely somewhat of an issue at first. My fic absolutely will go into this but but lily, being from a humble, lower middle class Muggle family felt like a fish out of water when she first stepped into James's world

her friendship with Severus had, unfortunately, impacted her self-worth as a Muggle-born over the years. She had always viewed Sev as inherently more talented than she was, which simply wasn't true. I mean this also had something to do with her being a girl, it was both things and Sev (without meaning to) fed into this because he ultimately believed it too

but gradually she started gaining belief in her own abilities and pride in her muggle heritage rather than shame.

#lily evans #mine #headcanon #lily #thank you so much for this question!!

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eruverse · 6 months

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I don’t have the best opinion abt Amerus as a ship from my own research. They seemed grandiose (ofc) but I really don’t know if they truly loved each other. Since my focus is Ivan, I’m ofc more confident about his side of things, and excepting the 90s and some years before it, I’m inclined to say he never truly likes Alfred. As in, liking Alfred for what he sincerely is.

Their first meetings were amicable but I would say Ivan was quite detached? He had his priorities in other nations after all. He was indeed aware of Alfred’s budding charisma and that he found him quite attractive, but Alfred was still more of a child even though Ivan did treat him capable of dealing with the burdens on his shoulders. Ivan is old world, so I think he really made a distinction with Alfred, who isn’t. Ivan is pretty young amongst his cohort in Europe but compared to Alfred he is his own pretty different level.

The rest of things tell on themselves. Ivan and Alfred have a lot of differences, and the more they go the more different they are, and… opposites don’t always attract. Extreme opposites WILL repel each other hard. I don’t mean that there have never been sparks of attraction but are those enough to make them stay together? Well, obviously no. Whatever this is that they have often just make them want to beat each other up and be done with it. And the thing is that I think Ivan never actually wishes for a relationship that’s an equivalent to a minefield. He can be adventurous but all he ultimately wants is safety, safety. Stability. For someone who seems to be wishing for everything big he is also incredibly simple at the core of it. I don’t think Alfred can give him that. He can like Alfred (and he def has, once), but if he doesn’t think they can be together, would he even pursue that? Liking someone and wanting to be in a relationship with them are quite different matters.

I think Ivan would sometimes imagine about what life would be like if he is more like Alfred, and if he is closer to Alfred in more ways than one. But Ivan protects his own heart like a zealot, because it is weak. With every wish and expectation of love (even simple acceptance) comes neglect and rejection and betrayal. If, despite how overwhelming he can be outside, he is wary, he is even more wary when his own heart is involved. He doesn’t easily trust people especially people who are a bit too different, people he cannot understand. He would rather stay in hell that he knows inside out than trying for heaven he can’t even comprehend, because this heaven might be hiding even worse hell. Despite how beautiful looking that heaven is. Heaven is out of reach, anyway. Therefore it wouldn’t be one.

But things always come in duality. The more strongly Ivan fights things, the more they often attract him. That is true. With thicker walls he erects around his heart the more desperate he is for what is ‘outside’, even if he built those walls precisely because the ‘outside’ hurts. He can and will obsess over them; after all, he is not without love. And when he loves, it is fervent and potent. His desires for warm embraces constantly battle with his desire for isolation due to fear and distrust.

And Alfred. There are a gazillion reasons why Ivan wouldn’t trust someone like him. Ivan is a cynic skeptic and he believes everyone is full of bullshit like he is, so he thinks Alfred, who claims to be, well, anything but bullshit, is too good to be true. And Ivan can see through him (he is convinced). He keeps testing and testing Alfred to see if he would buckle. After all, anyone who shines brighter would be producing even darker shadow. But Alfred is so good at convincing people Ivan sometimes can see himself being convinced. At some points, he even was! However, most of the time, it’s not what Alfred truly is that interests him. The boy at the core. Instead, it’s the tenacity. The raw passion almost; the lengths Alfred would go through to make a man that he ‘is’. Not the content of his idealism exactly (now that he knows it’s mostly bullshit), but the drive in which he commits himself to even if he has to destroy himself. And the result of it all; oh, that’s his favorite part. The power he’s amassed. Who’s not going to love it? Alfred is very good at what he does, it is enviable.

And I think that’s what he would tell Alfred: no one would love you as you truly are. You know it, and that is why you keep presenting everyone else the image they would like to see from you instead. What would you be without your power?

Alfred would spit back: aren’t you just projecting on me?

Ivan would smile. Perhaps tilt his head a bit, knowingly, and Alfred would sigh loudly and walk away.

They can see each other, sometimes too well. But what attract them to each other aren’t enough to make them stay together.

#hetalia #aph russia #hws russia #aph america #hws america #my headcanon

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 10 months

Text

Corrupted, Chapter Four: Watched - a Malevolent x TMA fic

Tim's been treading, head above water, for a while now. He had hoped to find help.

That’s not really what the Magnus Institute does.

AO3

——-

Tim leaves early.

Navigating empty streets at night is one thing. This is heading into west London right at the beginning of the work day, and he will take no chances. Beyond all the ones he can’t avoid, anyway.

John’s navigation, however, is flawless. Slow down a little. Good. The step is higher than that—good.

On the bus without incident. Amazing.

And then it’s very weird, because Tim is used to scrolling his phone on public transit, and he obviously can’t do that now—but it gives him an idea. He rummages in his backpack.

What are you doing? John sounds curious.

Tim finds what he’s searching for by feel. “Ah, ha!” he says, and uncoils a white cord with earbuds. “There,” he says, plugging into his phone. “Thank you, Past Tim, Pack-Rat Extraordinaire. Now I can talk without looking crazy. Just on the phone, ma’am, nothing to see here.”

Very smart, John says. I’m impressed.

“Modern technology, eh?” says Tim. “Modernish, anyway. Speaking of which, you don’t seem to be struggling very hard with things like cell phones and rideshares. You’d been here before. Recently.”

Have I? Tim, there are so many worlds, so many timelines, so many dimensions. I’ve seen technology you would never believe—and magic that made it all irrelevant.

What an answer. “And you’re humble about it, too,” Tim says. “Also, you’re deflecting. You know movie titles. Not that Tim Curry doesn’t deserve multiverse fame, but you knew who that was.”

Such a clever man, John purrs, and Tim shifts in his seat, unwillingly affected. I see I will have to watch what I say around you.

“Deflecting. Again. Anyway, I’ve been thinking,” he murmurs, facing the window. “You must be kind of rare, whatever you are. If the world were full of things like you, I’m pretty sure I’d know.”

Really.

Amused. That’s that tone. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I? Why wouldn’t everybody?”

Because for most of us, it’s far more entertaining and useful when humans don’t know what’s watching them from the shadows.

“Okay, so that’s really ominous,” says Tim. “Worse than ‘a being.’ Positively malevolent. Still not gonna tell me what you are?”

No.

Tim sighs. “So. Anything interesting out the window?”

Quite a lot, actually. And John proceeds to describe what he sees.

Tim would absolutely have bought the audio with this guy narrating London for tourists.

John manages to make ordinary shops and red mailboxes interesting. He describes people Tim knows he would never have even noticed on his own. He manages to make London feel like a thriving, vividly energetic throng, a place of potential, not just a crowded, expensive place to work.

It almost feels like part of a life worth living. Maybe it’s time to face the fact that he has no plans. The house selling is great, but he is going to need another job—and yeah, Nigel is probably not going to give him a recommendation.

Tim should care about that more than he does.

You’re drifting, says John.

“Sorry. Just… trying to think about things. Future. Employment. All those boring human details.”

I see. What are you thinking?

“You actually want to know?”

I do, Tim.

Tim slouches comfortably, sliding low in his seat. “Sure. Well, I worked in publishing. I’m a really good editor. But… I don’t know anymore.”

Looking for a change?

“Needing one, honestly.” He swallows around the tightness in his throat. “I was thinking about when I quit, and nobody… nobody really cared. I haven’t been happy for a while, you know? And they say you’re not supposed to make any major changes like quitting your job or selling your house or getting married for a year after bereavement, but, uh. I’m two for three, and it hasn’t even been a month.”

I see. You feel the need to keep moving, John observes, low. The type of creature which, if it ceases swimming, will drown.

Tim shivers. “Wow. Never been called whatever that is before.”

A shark. This is our stop.

Tim laughs. “Shark? I am so not a shark.” Somehow, he manages to exit the bus without running into anyone or banging his head, and exhales in relief. “Right. Which way?”

I’m not sure. There are a lot of old buildings here, but not much signage. Walk forward. More to your left.

It’s like a trust game, Tim thinks. Like something to do with your brother one boring summer afternoon, one of you blindfolded and the other giving directions and accidentally-on-purpose steering you into things.

Sure. That makes it less scary. Right.

Ha! There we go. I see a small, brass sign that says, MAGNUS INSTITUTE 1818. Perfect. And—oh, Tim.

“What?”

This is a place of power. The way John says that… deeper, richer, absolutely eager.

Tim shivers. “Power? What kind of power? Is that good?”

Perhaps. I’ve never had trouble with this particular Power. I believe I am safe.

“You sure you’re as anonymous as you think?”

The moment you made that phone call, Tim, you bet both our lives. If I thought this were truly a danger, I would have said so.

“Sure, put it on me,” he mutters. “How far?”

Stairs starting… now.

There are more stairs than Tim expected. They’re wide and shallow, just a little awkward to climb. “Does it look spooky?”

It’s a temple, John breathes. Oh… I knew it was old, but I didn’t expect this. The one worshiped here has been worshiped here for a long time. Door.

Tim feels for the handle, tugs. Of course, it’s still locked. “Guess we’ll just have to loiter for a bit. You know, in front of the scary pagan temple in the middle of London. What time does my phone say?”

Seven. We’re an hour early. Heh. And pagan doesn’t cover it.

“Sure. Well, better early than—”

“Excuse me, can I help you?” comes a posh baritone.

Tim, there’s a… oh.

Tim wonders what that oh was for. “Hi. I, uh. I need to see someone inside. Kind of an emergency.”

The posh man huffs, like an irritated cat. “Well, we don’t… this is a place of research, so I’m not sure what you expect in an emergency.”

He’s a slight person, shorter than you, much narrower. Brown skin; I’d think mixed South Asian ancestry. He’s slightly overdressed for the weather; shirt, vest, sweater over that. He’s managing to look down his nose at you in spite of his height. But Tim… he’s been claimed, branded by the thing that calls this its base of power, in a messy, undisciplined way. I don’t understand what I’m seeing. It’s like he’s accidentally a priest.

So that’s the oh. Tim wonders how the hell one can accidentally be a priest. “Well, I need to, uh. What was it the website said? Give my statement?”

There is an irritated sigh. “Well, you might as well come in. I can at least give you a place to wait until Gertrude arrives—ah, Ms. Robinson, the head Archivist.” The voice is moving away, accompanied by the sound of keys. “I’m Jonathan Sims. In research.”

“Tim Stoker. In trouble.”

He hunched when you said that. I believe he feels more for our emergency than he wants to let on.

“Sorry to hear that,” researcher-Jon mutters. “But as I said, I’m not sure what we can do. Police?”

“Not for this, mate. But thanks, anyway.”

Correct to the left a bit. He’s holding the door for you. Ahead of us is an enormous, open lobby with old marble and dark wood. It’s beautiful, elegant. I see no furniture or anything else to trip you. To the left and right are the stacks going out of sight in the gloom. Clearly, at least part of this building is a library.

Their footsteps echo. It smells like books.

“What’s your statement regarding?” drawls researcher-Jon, audibly trying to be polite.

“A horrible book that ruined my life,” says Tim.

He’s stopped walking and is staring at you, abruptly pale, the arrogance dropped away like a mask. Oh, you’ve got his attention now.

“What?” says researcher-Jon. “What did you say? A book?”

“Yeah.”

“Did it have… a bookplate in front?” says researcher-Jon.

Tim can feel himself going pale, too. “Yeah. It said, ‘The Library of Jurgen Leitner.’”

“Oh, gods,” says researcher-Jon. “You… you’ve…”

He looks afraid, Tim, and—oh!

Those oh exclamations were, Tim was beginning to realize, far more important than any casual fuck or damn.

“Jon?” comes another voice, posh, somehow managerial. “Well, I’m used to you being here early, but who’s your…” The voice stops.

Oh!

Tim is about ready to strangle something over those oh’s.

“Elias, he’s touched a Leitner,” says researcher-Jon.

“I understand. I’ll handle this one,” says the man.

“I was going to make sure Gertrude—”

“Jon,” says the man, in a quiet, uncompromising tone. “I will handle this. Go on, now.”

“All right, all right. Good luck, Tim.” Researcher-Jon sounds like he means it, and he leaves, Oxfords clacking away.

“Thanks,” Tim calls after him.

Tim, this has to be the high priest of this place. Its power, its marking, is all over him.

“Elias Bouchard.” There’s a pause.

He’s holding out his hand. He’s a couple decades older than you. Expensive suit. Handsome in a boring sort of way. And he’s powerful. Oh, Tim, he’s powerful.

“The head honcho, eh?” says Tim, and reaches.

The handshake is firm and not spooky, so that much is good.

“Can you navigate?” says Bouchard.

“What?” says Tim.

And Bouchard’s voice is low. “I can clearly see that whatever… that is inside you has done something to your eyes—which is to say, you are blind. Do you wish for guidance to my office? I completely understand if you’re more comfortable making your own way.”

He… can see me? John sounds stunned.

“You see him?” says Tim in a small voice.

“I do. He’s… my, my, my.”

He’s not supposed to be able to see me, John says with a slight tremor.

Tim’s not feeling fear. Relief and shock and desperation rise up his throat like vomit, and he has to swallow emotions down before he can talk. He is not insane. External validation. His eyes leak, and he wipes them. “Can you help? This happened last night. You can see him. What’s—”

“Good morning, Mister Bouchard!” comes a cheerful tenor.

A tall, overweight man, surprisingly light on his toes, with bright red hair and a charming smile.

“Martin, good morning,” says Bouchard. “Mister Stoker, was it? Please come with me. We’d best deal with this in my office.”

Tim, you didn’t tell him your name.

True. And unnerving. “Okay,” Tim says, wary. “How’d you know my name?”

“Your passenger is not all I can see. Come along, please.”

Well. John had said they’d read his mind here.

I’m familiar with avatars of this particular Power, but this is an unusual level of skill. Be cautious.

Great! “Well, that simplifies things, right? At least I’ll be believed,” says Tim with cheer he does not feel.

“Refreshingly pragmatic,” says Bouchard.

Yeah, this was lovely.

Follow the sound of his shoes. We’re passing a secretary’s desk. His office is straight ahead. Tim, this man’s body isn’t as old as he is. He’s confusing to look at.

“What’s that mean?”

Bouchard ignores Tim’s mutters. “Here we are.”

The sound of a door closing behind Tim feels… weird. Very weird. He feels stared at. Ganged up on? Prickly, like he has to defend himself, or—

“Please, Mister Stoker, have a seat.”

Tim feels for the chair. “Do you think you can help us?”

There is a pause.

He’s seated at the desk. His hands are folded, and his gaze is… intense.

“Well, can you blame me?” says Bouchard. “You are truly magnificent.”

Tim is confused for the moment it takes him to realize who was just addressed.

John gasps. You can hear me?

“Yes. I simply had to… adjust a few details. Tilt the radar dish, play with the bunny-ears—ah, but you’re too young for those references, aren’t you, Mister Stoker?”

And Tim can feel two very distinct things.

One: John is afraid. Being seen and heard has shaken him; finding out why is definitely going to come up after this.

Two: Tim knows he’s being subtly mocked. The weird, watched sensation has grown, making him feel judged, and he really, really wants to make it stop. “I’m not a kid, for crying out loud. I know what a television antenna is.”

If you can hear me, then I highly suggest you stop siphoning him, John growls.

“What?” Tim blurts.

“My apologies,” Bouchard sounds positively silky. “My patron craves your fear. Can I get you some tea?”

Tim is frozen. “My fear?”

John growls. Full-on growls, and it is not remotely a human sound, and it is huge, and absolutely frightening. Back. Off.

“I’m afraid I have no such control over it,” says Bouchard, standing. “The Eye doesn’t have much in the way of personality—only hunger. However, if Mister Stoker does manage to calm down, the Eye will have no use for him. He’ll practically be invisible to it.”

“The Eye? What? Like a giant eyeball?” Tim stammers.

“Quite. I’ll be back with that tea. Take a moment, will you? Breathe deeply. You’ll be just fine.”

Bouchard leaves, and Tim resists the urge to wipe himself down as if the man’s words had been coated in oil. “It’s a big eyeball god?” he says.

Something like that. What we are dealing with is a Power—an Entity that lives on fear.

“What the fucking hell?”

You need to calm the fuck down.

“Oh, sure, I’ll just hit the calm the fuck down button,” says Tim. “Maybe I should’ve asked for something stronger than tea.”

John sighs. Then he flips that smooth, warm, absolutely devastating voice into action.You’re going to be all right. He told you what to do to avoid his Power’s hunger. Just take a minute, and breathe with me, all right? In. Out. Slower.

Fucking dom, Tim thinks, but does it. “This place is actually trying to making me feel watched, isn’t it?”

I believe so. But you’re handling it like a champ. In. Out. There, you see? That wasn’t so hard.

It does feel better. “No, I guess not.”

I told you—you can trust me, Tim.

Tim snorts. “Opportunist.”

Bouchard returns. “Hold out your hand.”

Tim finds himself with a cup of tea. He closes his eyes, sipping. “Thanks. That makes me feel human again.”

“Of course. Now. Why don’t you tell me what happened last night?”

His fingers are steepled. He’s watching us without blinking.

“Spooky,” says Tim before he can help himself.

Bouchard laughs lightly. “I serve a patron that feeds on fear. I’m afraid that whatever else I offer, comfort will not be on the menu.”

Tim’s heart sinks. “But… can you help?”

“Let’s find out. What happened?”

Tim takes out the book.

Careful, John warns. Open that, and it will again send out a— oh. He’s leaning away from it. Tim, he looks terrified.

“Well,” says Bouchard. “That is… ah..”

Tim already hates touching this thing. It may be psychosomatic, but now it feels terrible, greasy, like living skin. “What? What do you see?”

“I am going to make a guess,” says Bouchard slowly. “The passenger in your head was in this book first. Yes?”

“Yes,” says Tim.

“There is something else in that book. I would heavily advise you not to open it again.”

What? What? There is no other being in this book.

“I assure you, there is,” says Bouchard.

Impossible, John says as if offended.

“I assure you, it is not,” says Bouchard.

“So what do I do?” says Tim. “There’s got to be something I can do.”

And though he cannot see Bouchard looking at him, Tim suddenly feels pinned. Feels very distinctly like this man just reached into his brain and peeled it open, revealing everything he is.

John growls again.

“I will be frank,” says Bouchard. “I do not yet have an answer, but I believe I can find one. I have at my disposal quite a lot of knowledge, as well as some truly interesting contacts. I am willing to leverage all of that to help you in exchange for the freedom to watch how it all pans out.“

Tim’s not sure what that means. “What do you mean, watch how it all pans out?”

His eyes lidded just at the thought.

“I will give you much more than aid. I will give you answer. Any I find.”

Tempting. “You must really like to watch, eh?” Tim says, trying not to make it sound sexual.

“You have no idea,” Bouchard says, not trying to avoid that at all. “I’ve never seen the like. A new thing, to my patron, is the highest form of offering, and I am quite eager to help you. You rather have me over the proverbial barrel, Mister Stoker.”

He’s leaning back again, considering us. His fingers are still steepled. It’s a thoughtful look, pensive, as if he’s weighing something.

“You are in need of a job,” he says.

Spooky mind-reading confirmed! Tim thinks, slightly panicked. “I... will in time, sure.”

“I could employ you.”

Tim snorts. “No offense, but this place feels really weird.”

“It does, yes—but it’s also very safe.”

“Not according to every nerve in my body,” says Tim.

“The paranoia and fear are side effects of proximity to the Ceaseless Watcher. They are not representative of actual danger,” says Bouchard. “Working here would grant you some… protections, as well.”

“I don’t know quite how we got to offering my CV to a fear-god, but no thanks?” says Tim. “Got at least a few months before I’m that desperate, I think.”

“And do you plan to remain occupied that long?” says Bouchard.

Tim goes silent.

Can you help or not? I want something definitive. Your god is impressive, but this man is mine, and if you think I’m going to share—

“Hold the fuck on!” says Tim. “What?”

Bouchard laughs. “It’s all right. Mister Stoker. I’m fairly sure he’s just responding to the invasiveness of my patron—for which I do apologize. Do you have a safe place to stay?”

“Sure?” says Tim, still fighting against the absolute certainty of being watched, against the weirdness of his desire to rage in response.

“Would you be willing to leave that book with me?”

Absolutely not.

“But what if he can see inside it without opening it, or something?” says Tim.

No .

That growl is really something.

Tim takes a deep breath. “Hey. What does John look like?”

John has no body of his own to stiffen, but Tim feels him do it, anyway.

“Well,” says Bouchard, eyes lidding. “I see him in two ways. First is an impression—I suspect his own of himself. Whispers of the form he once had; catastrophically beautiful, like a terrible storm. Darker than mere absence of light, as if he might absorb it. There is gold throughout—I can’t quite make out the shape, but it is a very specific and almost harsh yellow. He seems to have… how shall I put this… the essence of a body that simply is not human. Multiple limbs, perhaps tentacles. Enormous horns or antlers, casting spined shadows. And I think he was quite large. All of that, however, is echo. What do I see when I look at him? The reverse of a flame. Dark, and hungry; fluttering and flickering like conflagration dancing in the wind, and significantly more dangerous than he seems. Given the right fuel, I daresay he could burn the world.”

Tim is silent.

John is silent.

“Wow,” says Tim.

There is a fabric rustle, and Tim suspects Bouchard has shrugged as if to say, Well, there it is.

“You really see all that?” said Tim.

“I do.”

“What the hell is he?”

“I have absolutely no idea. You’re very lucky. Whatever you're experiencing may have no precedent in this world.”

John is still silent.

Tim sighs. “So… what now?”

“Well, I suggest food that is not peanut butter? And keeping your head down. If you truly wish to keep the book, I think there may be a target on you. I can’t offer you protection outside my place of power.”

Tim snorts. “Well, unless you’ve secretly got an apartment complex in here, it wouldn’t do me much good, anyway.”

“Actually, we do, in a way.”

“What?”

“My employees are… hard-working. Part of the archive below has been converted. There is a small sleeping area, a washroom, a very minimal kitchenette. Should things grow desperate, you have my permission to kip there, as it were.”

“You really want to watch all this, don’t you?” says Tim.

“Indeed I do. And while I readily confess I will be watching anyway, doing so with your permission and awareness makes it all so much more delicious. Is there anything else?”

At least he’s honest about being creepy, Tim thinks, because that’s all he can think. “Not until you have a solution.”

“Not yet.”

“And my offer?”

This has to be a them, not a him. “John?”

I need to think.

“Fair enough.” There’s the sound of a chair rolling back.

He’s standing.

Tim stands, too. He doesn’t know what to do. This hadn’t gone at all how he’d hoped.

“I’m sure it’ll all work out,” says Bouchard with a sort of dark glee.

“Right,” says Tim. “Thanks, I… guess.”

“Here. I do hope you change your minds.”

He’s holding out a business card.

Tim takes it on automatic.

It sounds like Bouchard opens the door.

Tim walks out.

With every step, his heart feels heavier.

He’d been so sure solutions would be here. Immediate ones. Telling himself that had kept him going all morning. But now…

There wasn’t help. There was the possibility of help, with the cost of loss of privacy—which he might have lost anyway, just by coming here.

None of this feels good. Tim sighs, fishing for his earbuds.

Someone gasps.

Tim, there’s an old woman looking at us. She… something about her is very dangerous. Something about her… Tim, I think she can see me. Fuck this place.

“Good for her,” mutters Tim, who has decided merely seeing John does not qualify one for anything. “Am I still going right?”

Yes. The door is three steps ahead.

“Leave it,” says Bouchard behind them.

Tim doesn’t think that was for him, and he feels for the door handle.

“Elias, you can’t be serious,” says the old woman’s voice—old but strong, frustrated.

What, had she been about to do something to them?

Tim is sure of it. Sure of it, and doesn’t know why.

Hurry. Apparently, John is sure of it, too.

Tim hurries.

Stairs just ahead. Take your time.

Tim does, one step at a time, using the excuse of concentration to be silent. He wipes his leaky eyes.

Are you all right?

“No. Gonna have to be, though, apparently, because I don’t want to take his deal.”

I promise you, Bouchard will be watching us regardless of what we do; it’s the nature of the Power he serves. It only makes sense to benefit from it, given that we will pay either way.

“Well, fuck that guy, then,” says Tim. “I guess consent isn’t on some fear god’s radar.”

I don’t know why you ever thought it would be. You’ve reached the last step. Where now?

“I don’t know. I’m trying to think. Can I just walk somewhere? Get away from this place?”

Walk to your right. There isn’t much traffic. I may have an idea, but I need to… weigh the pros and cons.

“Right.” So Tim walks, and doesn’t speak again until he’s found a comfortable pace and position that seems to keep him from smashing into anyone.

It works better than Tim would have thought. John directs, corrects, and says nothing of substance.

Tim is deep in thought. A lot happened here.

He’s always thought of himself as deeply pragmatic. That means tackling this with an open mind, and organizing it in lists as quickly as possible, ready to absorb new rules. “So,” he says. “A few things.”

Hm? says John, sounding distracted.

“First, you were scared in there.”

Yes. At least John can admit that honestly. I know you’re new to this, so it may seem like nothing to you—but neither of those people should have been able to see me, much less hear me. I am deeply startled.

“Right,” said Tim. “And by saying that, you’re revealing you’ve done this so often that you have a ‘normal’ in your head, so that’s a whole thing.”

Not as often as you think. I’ve spent most of my time in this world in that book.

Tim’s not sure he believes that. “They didn’t recognize you, though.”

No. They did not, or I would have urged you to run like a cat on fire.

Tim smiles weakly. “Hell of an image. Look, what did you do that you have to hide from everyone? You said you’d tell me after.”

It isn’t so much what I’ve done, John says slowly. It is what I am. You were correct in that earlier assumption: I am… rare. Endangered, in fact.

Tim has a feeling John isn’t using that word casually. “So what are you?”

A being. Rare. Powerful, in my own right, though as you can tell by our current situation, I’ve been robbed of my body.

“Where is your body?”

In another plane of existence, friend. Quite out of reach, I’m afraid.

“Are you dead?” He has to ask.

No.

“Are you… what, a prisoner?”

Tim… I really don’t feel like answering these right now.

“Promise broken. I‘m keeping track,” says Tim, but only half means it. “So there’s you, antlered-tentacled-whatever-the-fuck. There’s fear-gods.There’s accidental priests. So… are there good fairies, or something? Wishing wells? Forest spirits of mercy, or kindness, or whatever?”

No. The lack of hesitation is upsetting. There are no beneficent fairies. No good and kind spirits waiting to freely give of themselves to mortals in need. Everything that exists only does so because it has not been eaten or used by something else, including yourself—from your immune system to your choices, you also fight to survive.

This is different from John’s usual calming tone. It’s not crazy-smooth; it’s just quiet, and Tim suddenly feels like this is the first time John has been genuinely gentle with him.

Tim’s throat feels tight. “Bit of a downer, there,” he manages after a minute. “So what do we do?”

You truly don’t feel what he offered was worth what he asked?

“Just being in that building made me feel like hitting something, and that isn’t like me. I started to get angry, over, just… nothing. No. Whatever price I have to pay to get out of this, I’m not losing myself for it. That guy didn’t even have a solution, anyway. Just a what-if. Not worth it.”

Yes… yes. John sounds thoughtful . That’s a good way of looking at it. The cost cannot be one’s self.

Tim isn’t done. “And just so you know, John? Maybe I am surviving , like everybody else here, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make choices and be a good person and help other mortals in need.”

Seeing yourself as the hero, are you?

Tim snorts. ”No. I’d be a cheerfully bisexual bard, at best. I just mean… I don’t know. You make every living thing sound like an asshole, and I don’t think all of us are.”

John chuckles. A slutty bard? Really?

“It’s a DND ref- wait. You understood that?”

Yes. I’m familiar with the trope. I’m merely amused you used it.

“That has some implications, holy shit. How the hell are you familiar with an internet meme? How much time have you spent here?”

Not everyone who kept this book was only a cultist. Some of them were nerds.

Tim is flabbergasted. “What, did they just keep you on the table while scrolling through The Adventure Zone?”

Sometimes.

This doesn’t feel like the full truth. There’s something else John is not saying here, but Tim doesn’t know how to get at it. “I can talk to you in memes,” he says instead. “I’m going to be insufferable.”

John chuckles. Ah… I do like you, Tim.

That sounded regretful? Odd. Why would he…

Or maybe Tim just feels paranoid thanks to whatever the hell that place was. “How does anyone even manage to work there without all becoming axe murderers?” he mutters.

I believe if you are inclined toward the type of fear and information-gathering that god prefers, it grants some sanity so you can keep feeding it. I’ve seen the like.

“A whole fear-god economy. Fuck me, that’s wild.”

Indeed.

“And by the way—what was all that ‘mine’ stuff about?”

John sighs. I apologize. I could feel the Power feeding on you, and I thought perhaps it would respect some kind of… prior claim. Obviously, that didn’t work.

“So you’re not a lot familiar with that thing.”

No. Enough to know that one isn’t much of a danger to me—but others like it must be avoided.

“Did one of those fear-gods send the monsters to my parents’ house?”

Yes.

Tim laughs weakly. “Wow. So they’re actively after you. Fuck. John, you’ve got to have a better idea what to do.”

I have an idea, if you’re willing to try it—but first, you need to eat. Your physical form has needs; Bouchard was right about that. Man shall not live by peanut butter alone.

It is deeply unnerving to hear all these deeply human references used with such familiarity. “I don’t want to try dealing with a restaurant. Find me a take-out place.”

Keep going. I’ll get you there.

He couldn’t believe himself anymore. A tiny part of him is beginning to wonder if, somehow, his family might be cursed.

It’s going to be okay, Tim tells himself on repeat. It’s going to be okay.

———-

NOTES:

Do I hear that description of the King in Ben Meredith’s voice? Yes. Yes, I do.

#tma #malevolent #tma fic #malevolent fic #tim stoker #kiy malevolent #Jonathan sims #elias bouchard #corrupted fic

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