#such a clever easter egg though
Text
Hello, Stranger
Pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!reader, Eddie Munson x you, Eddie Munson x reader
For @lesservillain’s excellent Strange and Spooky Stories Halloween writing event for the prompt: ‘Stranger’
Summary: A stranger comes in to buy weird stuff at odd times, and as the cashier at the local hardware store you’re not quite sure what to make of it…
CW: 18+ (MDNI), fluff, maybe SFW though caution for mature and dark themes and allusions to crime and violence. Flirting, li’l bit of awkwardness, some swearing. Both Eddie and reader are in their 20s. Reader’s gender and appearance are not described, they can be whatever you want. No use of y/n. Time period is not mentioned, and any inaccuracies/inconsistencies about history, equipment, American schooling (I’m not from around these parts) or science are deliberate and artistic oh yes they are. No smut, I thought I’d better assess whether I could string a semi-coherent story together before attempting to add that 😆
WC: ~6.2k
A/N: I love gore, revenge movies, murder shows, true crime, science/biology/forensics and DIY (sort of), so this prompt seemed like a perfect fit. There are tiny Easter eggs from The Equalizer, Breaking Bad, 80s crime TV, The Blacklist and John Wick in here - let me know if you spot any! This is the first ‘proper’ fic I’ve posted so I’d love to know what you think. Comments, reblogs and feedback are hugely appreciated and very welcome!
(Also this is my first attempt at dividers too, I hope they worked, I literally have no idea what I’m doing!)
Yep, you were ‘that’ weird kid. Your friends in Middle School had called you a freak because you brought squirrel tails and chicken feet to show’n’tell.
“But look! If you pull this tendon it makes the claw close! Isn’t that cool?!”
No, apparently that was not cool. Especially when demonstrated against your teacher’s finger...
You’d visit a friend whose father was a doctor, begging to read his medical and pathology text books, and preferring to look at pictures of dissected and diseased organs and spontaneous human combustion over braiding your friend’s hair or talking about boys.
And, apparently, scoring a class-topping 9.5/10 for your rat dissection also wasn’t the social merit badge you thought it might be, even amongst your science-abreast academic peers.
So what if you had a strong constitution. And a love of anatomy and pathology. And then compounded it with a love of true crime, particularly serial killers and forensic methods. Surely there were worse things to be interested in?
By the time you’d finished High School you’d learned to mask your enthusiasm, covering your (apparently, socially unacceptable) fascination for all things ‘gross’ and ‘murderous’ (your friends’ words) by choosing science majors like human anatomy and pathology, criminal behaviour and forensics.
People just thought you were clever, nerdy, a scientist. You never let on that you were itching to actually experience some of these things for yourself, in real time, with your own hands…
You work the evening shift at the sprawling out-of-town homewares store on the road running out of Indianapolis towards a tiny town you’ve never been to (Hawksville? Hawking?). You work a few evenings a week plus alternate Sundays, currently in the gardening, kitchen and hardware department. It wouldn’t be your chosen section of the store (in the short time you’ve been there you’ve had to amass a lot of knowledge about tools. Also, how to politely deflect the regulars’ offers to share details of their new projects, lest you get drawn in to a half-hour discussion about u-bends or rawl plugs), but the hours suit you and fit around your college classes, and the employee discount comes in handy when things in your shitty apartment break down or your roommate carelessly breaks something, again.
The final few hours of your shifts were usually pretty quiet, barring the occasional domestic plumbing emergency, or a bored Hawkins housewife coming in looking for batteries.
You don’t mind spending your evenings amongst the tools and machinery, it gives you a chance to flick through the latest copy of forensic magazine or True Crime, or work on your college assignments.
One thing that does make the slow evenings more entertaining is the unusual clientele. A nerdy-looking guy with a moustache needing releasable cable ties, cooking oil and a large plastic sheet at 9.30pm must have an interesting backstory, right?
You find yourself concocting fantastical vignettes about the oddballs that pass through, giving them the most amusing or disturbing story you can think of as they glide by in the night.
The guy with the cable ties? Too easy. Clearly he’s got a ‘special friend’ and an interesting evening planned. TBH, that’s probably not even fictional. You call him Salacious Scott.
The friendly, rotund lady who regularly comes in for for buckets and sawdust? You know it’s Mrs Henderson, who is trying to go self-sufficient and has recently installed a composting toilet, but you prefer to imagine she’s actually a madam with a ‘specialist interest’ playroom, who you brand Madame Urolagnia.
The paranoid guy with a beard and thick glasses who won’t tell you his name, buys a lot of vodka from the liquor store nearby and comes in for plastic pipe, cladding and those slot-together foam mats for kids? He tells you he’s into martial arts and these make safe weapon facsimiles for training, but you reckon he’s actually some kind of government agent. Your imaginary name for him is Mysterious Murray.
One oddball in particular has caught your attention, and not just because he’s easily the handsomest customer you’ve had in a while.
Wait, no, you didn’t just admit that; you just find him interesting, that’s all.
It was his speed and demeanour that had struck you first, rushing in, hand atop the bandana on his head, gangly legs in ripped jeans looking like they were trying to run in two different directions at once, large, dark eyes wide as he’d frantically looked around the store.
“Uh, rope, I need rope, where’d you keep the rope?”
You’d blurted some instructions and he’d headed off, not looking in your direction.
His leather jacket and swinging chains certainly commanded attention amongst the flannel and blue denim that was usually in your line of sight, and you’d found your eyes following him, catching sight of him moving between the aisles from your position behind the counter.
He’d moved towards you with a sturdy knife, a shovel and 3 rolls of duct tape that he’d collected on his way to the checkout, arms full (he didn’t pick up a basket), when you’d ventured,
“I’d recommend the next brand up, if you want something stronger with better sticking power? It costs a little more, but it’s better quality, so overall you’ll use less”, (silently thanking Mr Wheeler’s recent diatribe on the merits and pitfalls of various brands of adhesive tape, remembering the detail because he’d gone so far as to demonstrate by sticking small pieces of it to your skin. It was a weird interaction for sure, but also oddly informative).
He’d lifted his head to look at you and your eyes had connected for the first time. Your eyes widened, and you think you spotted a slight twitch of a smile at one side of his mouth.
Oh, he’s actually really cute.
“Uh, okay, if you think that’s best”.
He dropped his eyes from yours and, after unceremoniously dumping everything else onto your counter, he’d exchanged the rolls and returned.
You’d both paused, you don’t know for how long, and you’d wondered how someone buying rope could be so captivating. But the spell was broken as you’d both spoke simultaneously:
“Did you find everything you need?”
“I’m kinda in a rush, so…”
You’d both chuckled nervously, and you’d set about ringing up his purchases, noticing that a small smile definitely now graced those previously harried features.
He’d paid with a handful of old, crumpled bills pulled from his jacket, politely declining your offer of a bag, and then he was gone as quick as he came, hurrying out into the night with the swish of the automatic doors and a breeze of parking lot-scented night air.
You didn’t know why anyone would need rope and a shovel at that time on a weeknight, but with this particular guy, who you dubbed The Stranger, you found yourself thinking that you wouldn’t mind finding out.
You’d unintentionally spent the rest of that evening coming up with fantasies about that particular customer, although, unusually for you, quite a few of them hadn’t actually involved what was on his receipt…
When The Stranger next comes in he’s after heavyweight garbage bags, more tape and a saw, but seems in slightly less of a rush.
He pauses at your counter for a few moments, making polite conversation, asking how long you’d been working here, whether you were working late tonight.
Is he trying to… flirt? Surely not…
“Thanks for the tape recommendation by the way, it was a real lifesaver. That stuff’s really good, I definitely have a new favourite!”, gracing you with a broad grin (oh fuck, that was a sight) before he was on his way again.
Another time he bought shears, tarp and a large quantity of painting coveralls.
The next trip involved wire cutters, buckets and a wet’n’dry vacuum.
You begin to enjoy The Stranger coming in buying random shit at odd hours. You can’t quite make him out. He buys a lot of gardening and decorating-type equipment (plus he’s almost single-handedly keeping the cleaning product aisle in business), but he dresses like neither - always in tight, ripped jeans, shredded band tees and his signature leather jacket. You’ve never seen him covered in leaves or dirt, and his clothes have zero paint on them. Those coveralls must do a really good job…
You build up a rapport of sorts with him. There’s always a polite, verging on friendly greeting between you, and you let him know when there’s special offers on tarp and garbage bags, and what days there are deliveries of latex gloves and those painting coveralls he seems to like so much. (Sometimes you’ll even stash a few of the latter for him under the counter if there’s a holiday weekend coming up, knowing Hawkins’ husbands will be out in force and not wanting him to miss out.)
But the ‘fantasy vignette’ and forensically-inclined parts of your brain begin to overlap, and start to tickle your imagination. It’s almost as if each selection of items he buys could be used to either dispatch someone, or dispose of a body. But that’s crazy, right? He seems way too nice to be a serial killer. And mob activity in this part of Indiana? Nah. That wouldn’t happen around here.
Would it?
It’s a quiet Friday night when you next see The Stranger. He’s picked up bolt cutters, pliers, some metal trays, a sledgehammer, a mop, and, most bizarrely of all because you’ve noticed he’s not usually one for personal safety equipment, ear defenders.
Again, he’s basket-less, barely able to contain the items piled up in his arms. They topple as he arrives at your counter, and some end up partially covering your open magazine.
“Shit, I’m really sorry about that.”
“Oh, no problem, honestly. I probably shouldn’t be reading on the clock anyway”, you say, slightly bashful, as you move the crumpled magazine out from underneath his items, smoothing it down. The Stranger’s eyes are locked on your hands, and as they move across the page they reveal a headline about a recently apprehended serial murderer and some photographs of a variety of grisly-looking, bloody weapons.
“That looks… interesting, watcha reading there?”, he remarks, leaning in.
“Oh, this? It’s about a new guy they’ve just caught over in Europe. He’s fascinating, he used such a variety of tools and methods that at first the police didn’t even think to link the crimes. Ingenious, really, when you think about it. So creative!”
You look up, and The Stranger is regarding you with an unreadable expression. Does he think you’re weird, babbling on about this murderer like you admire him? Or is he actually impressed with your enthusiasm?
“Sorry, I’m a true crime buff, it’s a bit of a pet topic of mine. And I’m studying forensics at college, so it’s kind of like schoolwork too.” You chuckle nervously, arms moving in front of your body and shoulders subtly curling in on yourself in embarrassment.
The Stranger seems to sense your discomfort, and shakes his head, making his curls bounce, smiling and chuckling along with you.
“No, yeah, uh, me too with the crime thing, actually. Well, not so much the reading, I’m more of a hear-it-through-the grapevine, hands on kinda guy.”
‘Hands on’? WTF does that mean?
“Oh, cool, coolcoolcool”. Smooth…
As you scan his items your fantasy vignette tickles your brain again.
No, don’t be silly…
You bag everything up this time, insisting it’ll be easier to carry, handing them to him and taking his crumpled bills.
Your curiosity is more than piqued and you can’t hold it in any longer. Feeling bold, you ask, “So, what’s all this for?”
“Huh?”
“The- the stuff. What’re you doin’ with it?”
The Stranger looks at you through his lashes, not speaking.
Shit, you’ve overstepped, he’s gonna leave, find a different store and you’ll never see him again.
“Uh, well, some people I know out near the big city are, er, planning a, uh, party, with a few of their, um, associates, and I think it’s gonna get pretty loud, hence the earphones. I, uh, don’t usually get involved in stuff until later in the evening, y’know, after all the main fun’s over.”
You look a little quizzical.
He thinks for a moment.
“I tidy up, but I sorta make it a bit more fun for everyone. Bring a bit of pizazz to a usually mundane part of the evening. Kinda thing.”
You process for a few moments. The ‘Mob Cleaner’ vignette you’d fantasised about screams loud and long into your cerebrum.
Nerves give way to curiosity, and you brashly ask, “So, what exactly is it that you do?”
“I’m kind of a cleaner, I guess? If someone has a problem that they’ve had dealt with and they wanna make the cleanup more, um, interesting, I’m the guy they call.”
Probing further, you clarify, “So you don’t make the, uh, mess, you just clean it up. Creatively?”
“Yeah, exactly.”
He explains he’s still quite new to the job, and kinda fell into it. His boss and his mentor are both encouraging, saying his USP is truly original (Unique Selling Point, he explains when you look confused), and that he definitely ‘has potential’. He’s learning a lot as he goes, but his enthusiasm seems to be appreciated and he wants to do well.
“All you really need is a strong stomach, imagination and a flair for the dramatic!”
He illustrates his last point by making jazz hands by the sides of his head, offering you a generous smile. Yeah, you can see how that particular part of the job comes easy to him.
“Oh, well, it sounds like fun. I hope you have a very successful evening!”
“Okay, well, thanks again! I’ll see you.”
You watch him leave, noticing in particular how well his jeans fit tonight.
What’s that saying again - I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave…?
You shake your head to rid yourself of the lewd - and crazy, yeah, totally crazy - thoughts you’re having about The Stranger and encourage yourself back into work mode.
As you busy yourself and tidy your counter you notice something small and white on the floor in front, about the size of a credit card. It must’ve fallen out of his jacket as he fumbled for cash.
Cash. Always cash. Never credit card, never cheque, never — anything traceable…
You round the counter and pick it up, thinking you’d save it and return it to him the next time he comes in. It’s a business card. The text is unfussy and clear, but glossy, bold and slightly gothic. It’s a company name above some text and a pager number, but it may well be the most intriguing piece of writing that you’ve ever come across:
E.M. Creative Disposal Services, Apprentice to Mr Kaplan & Associates, For dinner reservations call: (555)-666-6969
It’s another quiet night, but there’s already a couple of people at the counter when The Stranger arrives. Mr Sinclair needs a pipe wrench and a plunger (you don’t envy him his evening), and Mrs Wheeler has come in to buy double-As for the second time this month (although this time she also added gardening gloves and secateurs to pad out her basket. Not that you’d judge either way).
You spot The Stranger’s curls before anything else, bobbing in the fluorescent lights as he comes through the entrance doors. He spots the queue and immediately joins it, glancing towards the counter and visibly brightening when he sees you behind it. He’s carrying the sledgehammer he bought last time. As you start to ring up Mrs Wheeler’s batteries you see him examining the head of the hammer. Frowning slightly, he moistens his thumb with his tongue and rubs at one corner, then polishes the same spot on the front of his jeans.
He reaches the counter, receipt retrieved from a bundle pulled from inside his jacket.
You greet each other with a quiet ‘hey’. He continues, “I, uh, wanted to return this. Can I do that?”
“Yeah, sure, lemme ring it through the till. Can I ask why? Company policy,” you shrug, almost apologetically.
“Sure, uh, well you know that phase ‘using a sledgehammer to crack a nut‘? Turns out a sledgehammer does indeed obliterate the, uh, nuts… Let’s just say it wasn’t really suitable for the project I had in mind. I think I need something…”
Lighter? Easier to aim?
“With a little more finesse?” You venture, eyebrows raised, hoping you haven’t completely misread things.
“Yeah, finesse! I like that”. He beams widely at you tilting his head slightly, revealing the most gorgeous dimples you’ve ever seen, and it’s all you can do to hold on to the edge of the counter while your knees gently fail beneath you.
“Umm, you want some help choosing?”
He readily agrees and you direct him to the hammer section, both of you discussing the merits and disadvantages of various models as you choose ones from the display and encourage him to feel their weight and balance. He seems impressed, clearly not expecting you to be so well-versed in the finer aspects of hardware.
“Y’know, you really know your tools!”
You squeak out a bashful, “Thanks.”
You slip into self-deprecating mode and brush off his compliment, saying, “It comes with the territory I guess. I’ve picked up a lot working here. Plus I just sometimes browse the shelves, thinking of nefarious uses for random household objects.” Hurriedly adding, “For school, of course!”
You cringe a bit, thinking this must make you look like some kind of weirdo, but The Stranger takes it easily in his stride, commenting, “You know, you’d be surprised to learn just how much of a marketable skill that can be.”
You chat some more and he eventually chooses a smaller, less unwieldy hammer, and after he pays you part ways again.
You still desperately want to ask him exactly what he used that other hammer for, what ‘Creative Disposal Services’ actually means, and what the hell have dinner reservations got to do with any of this?
The next night you see The Stranger he saunters in at about 8:30. He has a different energy about him this evening, seeming both more relaxed but also somewhat on edge. He’s not in his usual ratty band tee tonight, you notice, and no leather jacket either. Instead he’s wearing a what looks to be a clean, maybe even pressed, electric blue raglan shirt with black half length sleeves. You spot a crimson guitar pick necklace that you’ve not seen before dangling from a twinkling silver ball chain, resting against his sternum and resplendent against the blue.
Observing his forearms for the first time you notice how attractive - and (oh!) tattooed - they are. Toned and veined, their shape and his mix of tattoos are shown off to perfection by that sleeve length, and a leather and chain bracelet that adorns one powerful-looking wrist. The glint of his chunky silver rings accentuates his large hands that peek out of his jeans pockets as he wanders over to you. He’s still in tight black jeans, but they seem a little… neater than usual. And he’s not in a rush. It’s almost like he’s not working, maybe even making an effort.
You feel a frisson of excitement - could it be that he’s come in just to see you?
Exhibit A, m’lud: Scrubbing up well.
He heads straight for your counter, and you greet each other with your characteristic friendliness.
He spies the hefty text books you’ve spread before you, and leans onto the counter to get a closer look.
“Watcha workin’ on tonight, Doctor Quincy?”
You swallow at the cute nickname, voice cracking slightly as you start to tell him about the assignment you’ve got. It’s about evidential tool marks, and how pathologists can identify what’s been used as a weapon or tool of dismemberment.
The Stranger tries to play down his interest, but his demeanour betrays him as he presses for more details, even asking if he could maybe read the finished piece.
That’s weird, right? People don’t read other people’s science essays for fun. Do they?
But you agree, promising to bring him a copy when it’s done.
The conversation lulls, and The Stranger twists the pad of one of his thumbs against the counter, seemingly a little nervous, though you can’t imagine what about.
To break the silence you slip into work mode, but for some reason drop your voice a couple of octaves and murmur,
“So anyway, what is it that can I help you with, sir?”
Wait, is he blushing?
“Um, oh, uh, I actually don’t have a shopping list today, I was, uh, just gonna browse, I guess.”
He backs away from your counter, giving it a few rhythmic slaps with his fingertips before turning away from you and ambling off into the store. He returns a few moments later with a small hatchet and mid-range fold-out knife, plus two rolls of his now-favourite tape.
“You can never have too many of these, amirite?”
He gives you that dimpled smile again, and you feel your stomach do a full (though anatomically impossible) 360° flip.
Observing his lack of focus and comparatively small selection of items, you wonder if he really needs those things, or whether he’s just picking them up as an excuse to come in to the store. Your chest heats up a little at the thought.
Exhibit B: Small, possibly unnecessary purchase. The evidence is mounting up.
Seeing the hatchet, your eyes light up with enthusiasm as you remember something.
“Hey, we just got some new stock in that I think you might like, y’know, if I’m not overstepping or anything.” You finish with a nervous chuckle.
You smile at him nervously through your lashes, skin heating even more in case this is suddenly all a bit too familiar.
He grins, responding, “Sure, go ahead!”
Your smile broadens and relaxes as you turn away from him and walk to the back shelves, crouching down and retrieving something in your arms.
Standing quickly and turning, you notice his eyes widen and immediately flick up to yours, a slightly alarmed expression on his face.
Exhibit C: Was he checking you out when he thought you wouldn’t notice? (Also, is it getting hot in here?)
With a loud thunk you lay two (frankly, terrifying-looking) multi-tools out on the counter in front of him. One looks like an oversized, overspec-ed Swiss Army knife, and the other could easily pass as a prop from an exorcism-themed horror movie. You over-excitedly explain the features of each, saying, “This one has a hammer and an axe, plus screwdrivers, pliers, a saw, wire cutters, a magnesium rod”, you look up at him quickly and ask, “do you ever need to start fires? Plus, it has…”, you wave your hand dramatically over your favourite part of the item, like you were showing it off on a shopping channel, and stretch out the syllables of the final two words for emphasis, “…a bottle opener…”. You raise your eyebrows and grin widely, like this must surely be the deal breaker.
The Stranger laughs, throwing his head back with deep-throated barks from the centre of his chest, and then he chuckles a little, bringing a strand of hair over his cheek and a curled finger to his lips. You’re slightly distracted by that glimpse of his extended neck (god, you want to gnaw at it), and that laugh? You wish you could’ve recorded it somehow.
You quickly compose yourself and continue, switching to the ’horror prop’ product, “And this one has fewer features, but I like it for its simplicity, robustness and practical charm. It’s an axe, hammer, nail puller and pry bar. And it even has a rubber coated handle, so you can still use it safely even if your hands are wet. For, y’know, whatever reason…” you finish, slightly abashed.
“Aw, Pumpkin, this is the kindest thing anyone’s done for me in a while, thank you.”
Pumpkin. PumpkinPumpkinPumpkin. Exhibit D: A term of endearment!
He takes some time to examine both articles, testing out their various features, hefting them in his (large, strong) hands (stop it!).
“I love them. Y’know what, I can’t decide. I’ll take both. What’s the damage?”
You visibly brighten, a squeak of delight that you hope he didn’t hear inadvertently leaving you as you puff up with both his term of endearment and your ever-growing customer service confidence.
You check whether he’d still like the other items he’d brought to the counter, and apart from the duct tape (“You really can’t have too much of this stuff!”), he allows you to reshelve the rest.
He watches, enthralled, as you wrap his new tools in the store-issue brown paper reverently and carefully, as though you were wrapping an expensive gift in a fancy department store, the pair of you sharing bashful looks and half smiles as you work.
As he hands over the now-unsurprising crumpled bills and takes his change his hand drifts closer to yours, glancing his fingers over your palm and lingering for just a moment. There’s a little hitch in your inhale, and you think you see his ears redden a little.
He gathers up his purchases in his arms carefully and gently, and he backs away from your counter slowly.
“I guess I’ll head out then. Uh, I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah, I guess you will, uhh-”
“Eddie. My name’s Eddie.”
“Okay, I guess so, Eddie.” You say his name slowly, like you’re testing out the syllables in your mouth.
You continue speaking, offering your name in reciprocation.
“Yeah, yeah I know your name, it’s kinda on your little badge there.” A tiny nod indicates the plastic rectangle pinned on your apron strap near your left shoulder.
Your cheeks heat again. “Right, of course. Ha!” You inwardly cringe. Well, that could’ve gone better.
He’s still backing away, getting dangerously close to an intricately balanced display of colourful children’s watering cans. You’re about to say something, but he turns just in time, ambling towards the illuminated exit with a mumbled, “Okay, bye then. Thanks again for these…” lifting the packages in his arms, and turning to look over his shoulder a couple more times before he finally reaches the door and disappears into the parking lot.
“Hey, d’you know anything about wood chippers?”
It’s been a week since you’ve seen The Stranger Eddie, and you turn abruptly to find him walking towards your counter.
His question throws you out of your stocktaking zone (you’d been focussing on ordering enough plastic pumpkin-shaped buckets for all of Hawkins’ kids this Halloween), but you quickly slip into customer service mode and ask for more details.
Eddie explains, using mostly his arms, that he needs one that, “throws everything everywhere”. You finally work out that he means the type where you feed stuff into a hopper on one side and the shredded debris is forced out of a raised chute on the other (as opposed to the more gravity-based ones where stuff is fed into the top and simply falls out the bottom).
He’s passing it off as being involved in some avant garde student art project, a performance piece involving feeding a load of wood and, uh, paint, yeah, paint into a wood chipper and having it spray out the other side. He blusters that the students are trying to make a point about climate change, or maybe it’s deforestation, he can’t seem to decide.
He explains that the piece is to be performed indoors, that there’ll be quite a few people present, and that he also needs a large quantity of tarp and coveralls because it was likely to make a huge mess.
This is the clincher. You’re absolutely convinced there is no art project, and what’s go through that chipper is more likely to be a human body. Or, given the amount of effort being gone to, and Eddie’s flair for theatrics, probably more than one.
“What size branches?”
He looks at you, confused. “Huh?”
“The, uh, limbs. What size will you be shredding? Some of the smaller models won’t cope with thick trunks.”
He swallows. His eyes meet yours, and he licks his lips. You can’t help but stare at those full, pink… Look away! Just look away!!
He subtly smirks, slowly moves his hands across the counter, and, gently taking hold of one of your hands in his, loops his other finger and thumb around your wrist.
“Um, definitely thicker than this…” - he extends your arm towards him, and moves his other hand slowly up your skin until he gets to your upper arm - “…and maybe a little thicker than this, too.”
You hope he can’t feel the burning sensation that’s erupted up your arm. You know he can’t possibly hear your racing heartbeat or detect the adrenaline that’s coursing through your veins, but you’re acutely aware of both just the same. You briefly ponder whether you’ll need to get a fire extinguisher from aisle 7.
“Umm, how about I show you what we’ve got?”
Composing yourself, barely, you take him to the large garden implements section, explaining that for larger trunks and limbs he may need something towable.
Under the guise of working out whether various models would be suitable, you take the opportunity to dig a little and find out what kind of vehicle he drives. It’s a van, so roomy, practical for carrying a lot of equipment that needs to be kept out of sight. Well, this all tracks.
Also, your brain helpfully suggests, it could potentially be romantic, a private little hideaway where you and he could… No! Stay on topic, you’re at work for god’s sake!
As you debate the various choices you find you’re occasionally leaning into each other, shoulders and elbows lightly bumping, you stealing glances at his chiselled jawline when you think he isn’t looking.
Eddie eventually decides on a mid-size towable model, and as you arrange for it to be delivered to the collection bay he bids you goodnight and disappears out to his van.
‘Art project’, huh? I don’t think so…
You don’t see Eddie for a couple of weeks after that, and you begin to wonder whether he doesn’t like you. Maybe you went too far, did you bore him? Did you frighten him off? Did he feel pressured into buying those gadgets or the expensive wood chipper?
Maybe he’s finally realised you’re a weirdo, like everyone at school eventually did?
Trying to get out of your funk you steel yourself and ask your department manager, Keith, whether he’d seen an odd, metal-looking guy in the store at all.
“Nah, not recently, but someone like that did come in a few weeks back, asking about when you’d be working. Something about your product knowledge helping him with a job, or whatever. I told him your schedule, I hope that’s ok.”
So you haven’t missed him, and maybe he’s not avoiding you. Good, that’s good. Exhibit E: He’s been asking about you?? Oh fu-
You’re startled out of your reverie by the sound of someone slapping two plastic packets down onto the counter.
“Oh, hi Mrs Wheeler, let me ring those up for you…”
On his next visit it’s clear Eddie is restocking his cleaning supplies, and he’s even deigned to use a small trolley this time to transport the heavy and bulky items.
As well as multi-surface cleaner, mops, cloths and some heavy duty gloves, you notice his trolley also contains numerous bottles of chlorine bleach.
“Big clean-up job tonight, huh?”
“What? Oh, yeah, I guess so. I need to leave the place without any trace of the, uh, performance this time.”
“Depends what you need to clean up, I guess. Y’know, chlorine bleach doesn’t necessarily get rid of everything.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, it’s fascinating, common misconception by the way. Chlorine bleach gets rid of visible stains, so that’s great if your main concern is aesthetics. But you can still detect haemoglobin, if you have access to the right tools and solutions.”
Eddie looks bath engaged and confused.
“A-heema-whatnow?”
You snicker.
“Haemo-, y’know what, never mind. Blood, basically. So actually, oxygen bleach is your best bet if your biggest concern removing all traces of, let’s say, blood and DNA. Whilst it doesn’t necessarily remove all the marks, it does degrade everything biological to the point where it’s undetectable. At least, with the tests we currently have.”
Eddie leans his elbows on the counter, giving you his full attention, resting his cheeks on his knuckles and pushing his dimpled grin up even further. Emboldened, you talk at length about haemoglobin, DNA degradation, specialist chemical solutions and alternative light sources.
He stays there, rapt, until you come to a natural stop. Just before he straightens up he quietly mumbles, still smiling, “Fucking incredible”.
With a deep breath he returns to the aisles to procure both types of bleach, pays and heads out into the night with a cheery, “Wish me luck!”
The cleanup must’ve gone well, because Eddie’s back a few days later and is making conversation.
“Hey, um, I remember reading once about some guy in England, years ago, who, like, melted people. You ever heard of that?”
You contemplate for a moment.
“Oh, d’you mean the Acid Bath Murderer, John Haigh?”
“Acid bath? Yeah, that sounds familiar.”
“Y’know, that’s actually one of my favourite case studies! It was one of the stories that first got me interested in true crime. 1940s England, dude thought he could get away with it if there was no body. Nope, sorry! When I first heard about it I thought it was really inventive, though he actually took the idea from a French guy who’d already done similar. Makes you wonder how many undiscovered dissolved bodies there might’ve been before and since, huh?”
You wax lyrical for a little while on the relative merits and disadvantages of the dissolving of human bodies in acid, even relating an anecdote about how your lab partner once chose the wrong combination of acid and beaker type, finishing with, “Hoo-boy, that was a mess!”
You become a little awkward, aware of how long you’ve been talking and the possibly-disturbingly-creepy level of detail you’ve gone into, though Eddie doesn’t seem to mind and presents somewhat like he’s paying attention in a chem class. Regardless, you decide to change the subject.
“I meant to ask last time, how did that wood chipping project go?”
“Oh, uh, yeah, really good, thanks. Y’know that advice you gave me about the chipper came in real handy. It was quite the show!” He looks gleefully at you, flashing that brilliant smile. A few small fireworks quietly explode in your innards.
“I’m so glad! Did the client like it?”
“Oh yeah, baby, they were thrilled!”
Baby. That’s new. You like it, and you add it to your growing mental filing system labelled ‘Evidence that Eddie might like me’. You can’t even remember what letter you’re up to now, you’re just enjoying stuffing it fuller every time he graces you with another morsel.
“They even gave me a nice bonus, for my ‘theatricality’.” He begins to lift his arms, but stops himself, resisting doing the jazz hands things again, reasoning there’s only so many times he can do an impersonation of a court jester before it puts someone off. “Said they’re gonna recommend me to their buddies too.”
More softly, and a little bashful, looking through his lashes he adds, “Kinda wish you could’ve been there, actually.”
Oh my, is he blushing again?
“Yeah, me too. I’d love to see you work sometime…”
“You would?”
Okay, he’s definitely blushing.
He leans in over your counter, close, so he can say in a low voice,
“Uh, just so we’re on the same page, you know what I do has nothing to do with art projects, right?”
Holding his gaze, and with your voice surprisingly steady, you swallow before confirming, “Yes, Eddie. I know.”
He huffs out a stuttering breath, and the air between you seems to heat.
He lifts one hand and rubs the back of his neck nervously.
“Hey listen, uh, I dunno if this is a little too forward, or weird, or y’know, whatever,” He’s rambling now. It’s adorable.
“I was kinda gonna ask you if you wanted to get milkshakes sometime, but, uh, maybe you’d actually wanna come out on a job with me? I’ve got one coming up on Sunday that I could really use an extra pair of hands on. I could pay you of course, y’know, for your time.”
You want to blurt out that, for him, you’d willingly burn the world and everyone in it for free. Instead, you smile wide, and settle for,
“Well, my tutors are always encouraging us to get real world experience…”
“Great, so I’ll pick you up at the end of your shift?”
“Sure, Eddie. I’ll look forward to it.”
You’re both grinning, stuttering messes.
“Great! Great. Uh, okay then, I guess I’ll see you Sunday?”
As he turns to leave, you stop him with one final question.
“Just one more thing Eddie. Should I bring my own coveralls..?”
If you got this far, thanks so much for reading!!
Comments and reblogs make my world spin, do let me know what you think.
#eddie munson#stranger things#Halloween#Halloween fic#Halloween Eddie Munson fic#Eddie munson x reader#Eddie munson x you#dark fic#Halloween fic prompts#hardware store fic#Catt writes#my writing#my first long fic pls be kind#Eddie munson fluff#Eddie munson x gn!reader#Halloween fluff#forensics fic#writing prompt challenge#stranger#hello stranger#mob cleaner fic#mob cleaner!Eddie Munson#gn!reader#niche fic#weird and owning it#some of these things are true#Halloween writing prompt#dark!Eddie Munson
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Easter eggs for player's name (spoilers ahead if u wanna discover it urself!)
I'll be including the dialogues when you enter it as the name/nickname
-maleyanderecafe
"Clever, are we? Do you want a round of applause?"
"Well, then you should know how it ends..."
"Don't you?"
-C4, Candy, Lunar
"Haha, what a sick individual."
"Perhaps it's best not to act so innocent..."
"When you know what you are already."
-Alpha, P1
"You just wanted to be accepted into the world, didn't you?"
"To be friends with everyone just like in the stories..."
"But what happens when..."
"You finally break?"
-Beta, P2
"You just wanted to be loved, finally and forever..."
"But they never would have stayed with you otherwise."
"I mean it's not really your fault..."
"It's theirs."
-Scientist
"Kind of a strange name for a prodigy, wouldn't you say?"
"But the guilt you feel is pretty immense..."
"This is all your fault..."
"And it always has been."
-Gamma, P3
"Why do you always pretend to be the villain?"
"You try so very hard to be unlikable and yet..."
"Hahahaha..."
"When will you finally succeed in making sure everyone despises you?"
-Delta, P4
"It must be really sad all alone like that..."
"You want to forget, you really do but..."
"Well, you just know more than you ever should..."
"Maybe like the fact you're playing on a ___ system or something?"
"Haha...just kidding."
-Emil
"With a smile of gold to hide a darkened heart..."
"Doesn't it feel like it's in your nature?"
"First Impressions are everything."
-Thella
"What a noble person to tarnish."
"But then again, it's just as they say..."
"First impressions aren't everything."
-Ryan
Eris: Why would you ever want to be him?
Eris: How disgusting.
-Milo
Eris: That's your perfect creation.
Eris: Let's not tarnish him just yet, alright?
-Desmond
Eris: Why would you want a name like that?
Eris: He's simply too meddlesome for his own good.
-Seph
Eris: Oh dear, that won't work out at all...
Eris: He's only interested in monsters after all...
Eris: And not the kind that you are.
-Valli
Eris: She's a bit too much of a chatterbox, isn't she?
Eris: That's not really your style though...
-Holly
Eris: It's a bad idea.
Eris: She will have your head otherwise.
-Y/N
"What a dull an unremarkable name."
"That doesn't suit you at all."
-Bussy, Fart, Butt
"Hahaha!"
"Very clever!"
"Now watch this!"
game closes
-Dick, pussy, bitch, boobs
"Ah, a prankster, are we?"
"That's pretty funny, I have to say."
"But oh well."
game closes
-Espoir
"My, hello there. It's you. And everyone else."
"You know I heard that using a certain Ashy name might give different results."
"But that's just a simple rumor..."
"Who knows if it's true."
-Ally
"Oh? Ally? How curious."
"It's such an Amiiable name..."
"It's unfortunate you won't live up to it."
-Tsu, Tsumachi
"Oh? It's you."
"Sorry...there's not really any white hair boys in this game..."
"Haha...hope you're not too disappointed."
-Reiynm
"Oho. It's you."
"Such pretty drawings you make."
"I adore them so."
"I wonder just how pretty the thumbnail would be..."
"Haha...it's nothing. Let's continue."
-Lionel
"Ah, so I'm not the only one who is watching."
"I've been watching you for a while."
"So I hope you enjoy."
"Alright?"
-Cherry
"The one and only."
"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll end up in the attic at some point."
-Mari
"You know, I have something special for you."
"Deep inside of the code..."
"Let's check it out, shall we?"
-Veronica, Jason Dean, Heather
"A song hums in your brain."
"I was meant to be yours..."
"We were meant to be one..."
"Don't give up on me now..."
"Finish what we become..."
"How fitting."
-Strade
"Oh, it's you."
"Well, isn't that something..."
"You'll fit right in!"
-Vance
"Don't you wish you were held more?"
"Don't you wish that someone could hug you...?"
"Even if it drove them insane?"
"So desperately you will crawl to make someone love you..."
-Virgil
"Child of the stars. Child of the galaxies."
"You take on many forms, many shapes..."
"Stay with me, you tell them."
"Force them to stay if you can."
"They have no choice."
-Mychael
"Was it hard living in the forest alone?"
"Some terrifying being that wanted to be loved..."
"Well, don't worry. You'll be loved soon enough."
"By force or by..."
"Suggestion."
-Nick
"...You look awfully hungry."
"Should you get something to eat?"
"An arm or a leg...perhaps?"
-Momo
"A peach grown with a small child that comes out."
"A demon ritual made to get the love of your dreams."
"What will be the ending for this tale?"
-Toma
"A older figure to some, or a cage for others."
"You will be taken whether you like it or not."
"It's a promise."
-Cro
"It's weird... I feel like I remember you..."
"Somewhere in a train going down the line."
"You didn't let me leave."
"Did you?"
-Catsket, Dorian, Aeron
"...A god?"
"...No, the devil..."
"Bloodless Art, perhaps..."
"Remake him into your own."
-Cassanova
"Let's try not to get our hands too dirty."
"We can't eat him up just yet."
-Theo, Riese
"Oh my, you should be careful where you tread."
"I've heard vampires like to come about around here."
"Just be careful when you walk around baring your teeth."
-Ezra
"My, I've heard that you have experience..."
"Let's put that to good use."
"Let's hope it ends up well."
-Krow
"An omen of something to come."
"Be careful of what misfortune you bring."
-Fone
"Don't worry, I can hear you."
"You will be found soon."
"I promise."
-Jack
"A ghost of that who comforts."
"At least, that's what it seems
-Alan
"A song hums in your brain."
"Do you know the Hatchet Man?"
"The Hatchet man, the Hatchet man..."
"Do you know the Hatchet Man?"
"Who lives within the woods...."
"How fitting."
-Louie, Mica, Allar, Josh
"My what a colorful name."
"So pretty and yet unexpected."
"Well now, Valentine."
"Try not to eat his heart out."
-Ren, Redacted
"There's no need for you to try to be someone else."
"You will make them accept you and love you."
"He doesn't have a choice.
-Tenebris, Keith
"Of flowers and monsters."
Keith:
"Such a pretty person...and for what?"
"Being too jealous isn't a good look for anyone."
"Tenebris:
"Ah, be careful that your rage doesn't break them."
"It's unfortunate to destroy something before they're even made."
-Aster
"An angel. Someone who lives for you."
"Well, that might have been what you were suppose to be."
"But now it's time to find someone else to be able to fufill that role, hm?"
-Leumin
"It's raining, it's pouring~"
"Milo is snoring~"
"Hahaha..."
"Let's see if he'll enjoy this rainy weather we'll be putting on then..."
-Koolie
"Ha. Are you some sort of dog?"
"Ah, that's kind of funny..."
"Hopefully this doesn't turn out to be as tasteless as milk."
-Zecharias
"Just as memory serves right?"
"Sometimes you can't find your perfect muse..."
"You have to make them."
-Sal
"The evil white shark of the waters..."
"You just wanted to be loved right?"
"Well..."
"Don't we all?"
-Sol
"A name like the sun..."
"Or so they say."
"When you're simply the kid in the back..."
"Would anyone even notice?"
-Eli
"You were made to be loved, weren't you?"
"Sometimes though, you have to make sure you follow your directive."
"And you just have to do it yourself."
-Zachary, Simon, Seth
"This world isn't really that colorful..."
"At least thats what you think."
"Don't look at it through some colored gaze then, alright?"
-Bo, Dachabo
"You look like such an innocent puppy."
"But it's wrong isn't it?"
"You're more like a wolf who lusts for more."
-Liu
"Watch carefully through that door of yours."
"Your eyes darting about."
"You had always watched him from afar."
-Ashton
"Ah, did you jump from another game or something?"
"Don't forget your garden sheers."
"Maybe you might need them."
-Harper
"Ah, are you taking a break from camp?"
"Well hopefully, you find someone for you..."
"And try not to murder anyone, okay?"
-Morgan
"Hm? Are you a librarian or something?"
"Ah, sounds like a quiet job."
"Well, you can hear a lot of secrets, I'm sure."
-Riker
"Ah, so many different endings, so many different faces."
"Keep it together for your love, okay?"
"You're going to need him."
-Griffin
"Ah, like the bird, huh?"
"Did you guys meet on IndyCent or something?"
"Haha, I jest."
-Dameon, Stalker
"What a fluffy figure you have..."
"You must be good at following the things you like, don't you?"
"Well, let's track him down then..."
"Our Perfect Love"
-Nial
"A parasite bringing someone to death..."
"A blue enigma with a killing blow..."
"Let's hope you can keep him alive..."
"He's going to need it."
-Z
"Ah, a real demonic character, huh?"
"Have you taken interest in someone?"
"Let's keep them closer to you..."
"So they can never leave."
-Gold
"Ah? What a peculiar name."
"You wouldn't perhaps have someone who is in a coma, right?"
"Ahaha. It's just a jest."
-Klein
"How long did it take you to finally get what you pleased?"
"Behind that plastic cover..."
"You'll finally break free."
-Friend
"Ah, what a friendly name you have."
"Despite all that, it's quite ironic."
"After all, being friends with you is rather...unfortunate, isn't it?"
-Adam
"Ah, you have experience hurting others, don't you?"
"Says the one above..."
"I'm sure you will get what you deserve."
-Doc, Dre
"Do you like vengeance?"
"You probably do, don't you?"
"Then please..."
"Enjoy to your heart's content."
-Valk
"May you be watched and possessed..."
"Just as you deserve..."
"I hope it's to your liking."
-Melencholy
"Ah, I remember you. You do your best, don't you?"
"Carried us when we all needed it..."
"Please, let's have fun..."
"Creating our very own perfect love."
-Sox
"A perfect househusband or a perfect wife..."
"Maybe both, maybe neither..."
"Well, I'm sure that this will end with someone being taken care of."
"Whether you'd want it or not."
-Calem
"As I've heard, you really are something."
"You love it when someone watches you from above."
"Like a cat, ready to pounce."
-Meru
"The one of the stars, the one of love."
"I've heard them say you're quite the artist."
"Let's make him into a piece of art, shall we?"
-Techno
"Oh? What a curious name..."
"Like a small, little hamster..."
"Well, they do say that if someone dies next to a hamster..."
"They use their face as bedding."
"That's a fun fact, huh?"
-Madelyn
"I did promise something for you, didn't I?"
"Someone or something that's quite cute or cuddly..."
shows image of a cat
"Someone like this then, hm?"
"Haha. I did promise."
-Jablue
"Can you hear him hiding in the walls?"
"Watching...waiting..."
"There's always someone out there, you know..."
"Begging for your love."
-Bambi
"A deer in the headlights, watching so carefully."
"Will you enjoy the corruption that has been brought?"
"It's more fun when they fall by your hand, you know?"
-Song
"A monster in the making is just as fun..."
"Watch as he twists and turns into his new form..."
"Watch as he hatches into something that's just for you..."
-Flaine
"Ah, welcome back, boss!"
"The cheeriest of all, the one who speaks loudly..."
"May we corrupt the one we love the most..."
"Don't forget to finish your comic..."
-Quiet, Quietaxis
"Did I forget about you?"
"You seem familiar..."
"Like you'd be friends with a cute pink character."
image of kirby
"Kind of like that? I suppose?"
"Haha, that's cute."
-Stranger
"Surprising..."
"I didn't think you'd be here."
"The god of death themselves."
-Manly, Manlybadasshero
"Ah, so it's you. And everyone else."
"I've been wondering if you would pick this up."
"So hopefully you enjoy."
"It would be a shame if you didn't."
whew that's a lot lol
I'd separate the nickname one since there is a lot
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I'm sure this has probably already been pointed out, but it's interesting to think about the historically significant Targaryens who had the same name or a similar name to Daenerys.
Daenys the Dreamer - Saved all of House Targaryen from the Doom with her prophetic vision. A woman whose dreams came true. Could be argued is the very foundation of House Targaryen even more so than Aegon I because Aegon could have never conquered the Seven Kingdom if his ancestors were wiped out by the Doom.
Princess Daenerys Targaryen I - Firstborn daughter of Queen Alysanne and King Jaehaerys. Early walker, talker, and reader. A lively, laughing child, often mud-spattered and grass-stained. She died young, but Alysanne fought for her to become Jaehaerys' heir over her younger brother Aemon and to rule as Queen in her own right.
Princess Daenerys Targaryen II - Daughter of King Aegon the Unworthy and Queen Naerys. The Daenerys that our Dany is named after. Born 19 years after her older brother. Mother was trapped in an abusive, unloving marriage. Said to have loved Daemon Blackfyre but set aside her personal desires for duty to marry Maron Martell to further solidify peace with Dorne. Began the tradition of opening the Water Gardens to the common children of the palace. And was remembered mainly for her compassion.
You can say that this naming convention is just a little easter egg that was included by George simply to create literary parallels to our Dany and that's probably true. But it feels like George is subtly hinting that Dany has been this figure whose birth has been heralded for centuries.
You can see little echos of her story in other Danys throughout history. And now, in THIS incarnation as Daenerys Stormborn, she is all those Danys and more. She is the wide-eyed, clever, grass-stained young girl learning to become a Queen in the Dorthraki Sea. She is the Dany who was born from an abusive loveless marriage but still became a compassionate leader even though it meant making personal sacrifices (including entering a politically advantage marriage) of her own. A woman whose dreams come true and who rules in her own right. Daenys the Dreamer and Aegon I.
#asoiaf#asoiaf meta#asoiaf analysis#house targaryen#awoiaf#a world of ice and fire#fire and blood#daenerys targaryen#daenerys meta#daenerys targaryen meta#a song of ice and fire
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assorted Transformers fics to rec (part 1...?)
i really do think fic recs are valuable to fandom so here’s a random collection of Transformers fics i like, with no particular theme. these were compiled by frantically googling half-remembered bits to try and find the only ones i remember reading years ago, and i know i’m missing some i’d like to include
EDIT: part 2 here!
A Prime Performance
TFP AU, incomplete, AO3. Megatron is an actor in a children’s show. this is just as hilarious as you think it is. some slowburn MegOp. i love all the easter eggs and references and the way this in-universe show is created and run?? it’s fascinating
All Roads Lead to Rome
no set continuity/vaguely Bayverse, oneshot, AO3. a huge robot warrior like Sunstreaker is odd enough in modern times, just imagine him in ancient Rome. extremely interesting premise to me i love this bit and would love more. warning for typical crass patriarchal expectations for women in marriage but nothing actually explicit
Another Gate
Bayverse, complete multichap, FFN. whatever Sam is now, it isn’t human. some REAL good body horror, friendship, and alien strangeness ooooo
Bodies (break)
IDW, oneshot, AO3. Ultra Magnus goes to therapy and Rung is something wrong. oooooooghhghghhf i LOVE when people lean into the oddness and creepiness of the local god
Brave New World
fan canon, ongoing webcomic, TFW05. a spin on BW among other things, following Rodimus Prime’s crew of beastformers as they face down an assortment of bad guys and mysteries. LOVE this canon guys i LOVE it, very very good beast mode choices, very heartfelt and very funny, i also love seeing the art progression over the years. lovely webcomic here
Burn a hole in the old grip of the familiar
TFP, complete multichap, AO3, NSFW near the end. it’s focused on Ultra Magnus/reader but the first half of this fic is probably my favorite. the overwhelm and incredulity the reader character grapples with for awhile, i feel like it’s pretty realistic for someone who’s been shoved into a weird new world. DEFINITELY did Breakdown dirty though. has sequels that i haven’t read
dares for the first time
G1, oneshot, AO3. lovely little take on a G1 Guiding Hand that makes me feel things
Dog of Law
IDW, complete multichap, AO3. the Lost Light crew don’t find Minimus in Tyrest’s cells, they find a small green turbofox. lovely character driven piece here and honestly i just really like when his canonical turbofox alt is used i think it’s a shame we never got it in the story proper
First Contact
IDW, incomplete, AO3. listen it’s only a little bit written but i am OBLIGATED to post isekai/modern girl in Middle Earth/falling into fiction type of stories and i really liked the setup for this one okay! i love isekai and this was the only one i could remember to track down
Grey Is The Night
Batman/vaguely IDW crossover, complete multichap, AO3. there’s a new police car in Gotham, and it’s up to no good. listen i don’t even do DC stuff but Batman meeting Prowl here is done MARVELOUSLY ohhh i love this very much, the plot is GOOD, and i bet folks who actually like DC will love it even more
Hazard Light
IDW, oneshot, AO3. a hanahaki take on Brainstorm/Perceptor that i actually like, despite not usually enjoying hanahaki at all, with some nice Cybertronian biology too
How to Save the World in 8 Minutes and 3 Seconds
vaguely G1/continuity soup, oneshot, AO3. how does Prowl save a species, with blocked communications, no visuals, and a short time limit? why, he just keeps an eye on social media of course! a lil dark and fun and clever
In Media Bellum
TFP, incomplete, AO3. human reader is caught up with Team Prime in a delightful exploration of culture and introspection and found family. no shipping but masterful platonic relationship work! it feels... idk relaxed? caring? i love the tone of this writing
Juxtaposition
vaguely G1, complete multichap, FFN (also on AO3 but never finished crossposting). a human OC gets in a car accident and starts hearing voices in her head, unknowingly saving a Cybertronian’s life, even if it’s in a very atypical manner. love this OC, love the whole premise here and the exploration of an alien reality from a human POV. no shipping, if that’s not ur thing
Lost Light/Rodimus
IDW, oneshot, Tumblr. the ship comes to life and has something important to ask Rodimus. i love this concept it’s very good, very intriguing
Magnus Carey
IDW, oneshot, AO3. Verity teaches Minimus about Christmas. short and sweet, i love their friendship
My Totally Real Mary Sue Husband Who Lives Back On Cybertron
TFA, oneshot, AO3, Dratchet. “Ratchet offhandedly mentions he's conjunxed. Bumblebee refuses to believe him. Hijinks ensue.” funny and in character and sweet
Mythbusters Season Nine Interlude: The Autobot Special
G1/Mythbusters crossover, oneshot, AO3. busting some myths AND some Decepticons! it just keeps getting better and better the further you read. i laughed out loud so many times, and cheered at recognizing so many classic Mythbusters bits, and i will get on my hands and knees to beg for a Dirty Jobs sequel these shows were my CHILDHOOD
Patronus
TFP, twoshot, AO3. Megatron has teatime with Rung, who... is not a normal bot. more good good Rung being something wrong
Property Of
Bayverse, incomplete, FFN. when Sam and Mikaela meet Bumblebee, it isn’t as an Autobot scout, but rather as a new owner of these recently discovered organic animals called “humans”. a very well done human pet fic that doesn’t veer into psychological torture or boundary crossing or anything (sorry if that’s your jam) and while it’s incomplete i still love what’s there, especially as the kids learn how to communicate their personhood to an ignorant Bee
Rules to Follow When Making First Contact
continuity soup/fan canon, ongoing series, AO3. listen i know many folks aren’t here for the human characters but i LOVE all the humans here they are each characterized so well and i love seeing how its been blended together across canons. this is a very clever, very engaging setup with a very grounded presence for alien robots that hits in ALL the right places for me. AUTOBOTS LEARNING ENGLISH YALL!!! YES!!! very good very good
Scrimscrim
TFP....... sort of, incomplete, AO3. what do you do when you end up with a Starscream toy brought to life? this is a hilarious premise with good characterization, a lovely human OC, a ridiculous situation handled very realistically, and generally good fun to read. reverse isekai is perhaps more of a favorite of mine than isekai!
SG Prime
TFP SG au, ongoing webcomic, own website and DA. REALLY REALLY COOL YALL. fantastic designs and inclusions and expanding on TFP lore and making very interesting SG dynamics and just. excellent.
TFP Wheeljack in TFA
TFP/TFA crossover, ongoing series of posts, Tumblr. i LOVE crossovers, i will kill and die for crossovers, and this is one of the few i’ve been able to find! there’s enough posts under that tag that i haven’t been able to read them all but what i did see is GOOD
The Echo Garden
IDW/TFP crossover, incomplete, AO3. Soundwave gets picked up by the Lost Light. okay i am a SUCKER for crossovers as previously stated and this one is Good. leans fully into being a crossover and expounding on the differences between universes. Soundwave needs to figure out what to do with himself! also features some delightful slowburn SoundRod and a lovely ensemble cast. Toaster is the best
The One Where The Decepticons Are The Good Guys
TFP SG au, incomplete, AO3. i’m not typically a fan of Shattered Glass stuff but this doesn’t feel terribly OOC or completely upended or alien to the original plot, i think this is done very well and i can’t wait for more
Transformers Recovery: Primal Launch
fan canon, complete multichap, AO3. it’s like the Lost Light but weirder, i don’t even know how to convey its awesomeness. VERY funny, VERY cool, Sky Lynx is there, Swerve is important, Riptide is such a good bot, Megatron exists, just all good things here. treat yourself and read this it’s such a delight
Twenty-Five to Life
vaguely IDW, oneshot, AO3. Starscream/Minimus soulmate au that makes me wheeze when i read it because it it so painfully in character and hilarious oh my god i am CRYING laughing by the time i finish it. petty criminal Starscream, noble Minimus, oil and water. gets raunchy but nothing explicit with an NSFW sequel
Under Control Till You’re In Front Of Me
G1, oneshot, AO3. i need more people to join the Shockwave/Moonracer ship please please it’s good
Xenoethnography
canon soup/based in TFP, ongoing series, AO3. a more hard scifi take on Transformers from the POV of an anthropologist hired to study them. y’all, THIS IS GOOD. seriously if there’s one fic out of all of these i could keep, it’d be this one, it’s just so so good ugh. ugh i love it i need to catch up with it again
#fic rec#rec list#macaddam#transformers#transformers fanfiction#long post#hey look its story isnt that weird#theres still a few open on my tab holder i need to get around to rereading and put on here but! thatll be an eventual part 2 ig#if you have any crossovers or isekai esque fics not on here send them my way and i will add them to my to-read list
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just finished Marmalade and lemme say, i am SHOOK.
spoilery rambling under the cut
I'd guessed the first major twist and I half guessed the second. Gunna sound a little boastful, but I rather pride myself on my observational and speculative prowess. My mum always gets mad when I guess the murderer before her in any mystery.
The storytelling in this movie was sooooo good. Love me an unreliable narrator.
Baron is SO precious. I wanted to give him the world. And his accent? So adorable. But also meticulously planned to add to Baron's character, to make him seem lovable and simple.
And oh lord, Joe Keery made that wig look good, but when he cut his hair at the end. Hoo boy, sex on legs. I need some gifs. May have to make them myself.
Cannot stand Marmalade (the character). So glad she wasn't actually real. LOL
Though every time she was writhing around on top of him, I wanted that to be me.
Loved how all the details of his story ended up coming into play, just not how you expected.
EDA LAMRAM ⟶ MARMAL ADE. So clever.
Otis made me laugh out loud so many times.
Before the second twist was revealed, I wanted so badly for the FBI to catch Marmalade and for Baron to realize what a scheming bitch she was and drop her ass. Like seriously, the whole time I was like, babe! she's using you!
The ending was SO fucking perfect. I'm glad Baron got away with it all, got the medicine for his mum, his foster dad and the pharmaceutical company got fucked over, and the TICKET HE LEFT FOR HUXLEY AAAAAA MY HEART!!
Now I just need to know what Baron's real name is. Gunna make writing any fic hard... unless I just make up a name for him? hmmm, I'll have to think on it.
All in all, I cannot recommend this film enough. Gunna rewatch it again tomorrow to search for more easter eggs and foreshadowing.
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Just Another Night at Sparky's
(Disclaimer: Ness/WaiterPat and Jack/Cabbie!Cory are not my creations. I gave Jack his name because he wasn't given one in the movie. Now, one of the characters you'll be seeing here technically belongs to me, but I don't really consider him a full fanego.)
(I was already planning to write for Ness and Jack, but after I learned how Mark was originally intended to play the role of that first security guard who died, I decided to adopt that abandoned character. Go here for headcanons and a more thorough explanation.)
(Certain plot-points in this story were inspired by @flawlessstriker and @insane4fandoms! These two are very talented artists, and I'm not sure I would've thought of such clever/funny easter eggs if I hadn't seen some of their own work, so please go check out their blogs and show them some love!)
(Trigger Warnings: food and drink, eating/drinking, implied trauma, mentions of past violence, mentions of blood, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.)
In Ness’ personal experience, the people who dined at Sparky’s could be divided into three sections on a metaphorical pie chart.
Twenty-four percent of customers were. . .just a little off. Not like that was necessarily a bad thing, mind you. Working in the restaurant business meant having to interact with lots of people each and every day. At some point, you’d learn to pick up on certain things that were odd in the way you couldn’t quite put your finger on (or, perhaps you just knew deep down that you didn’t want to).
Ness strolled out of the kitchen and into the seating area, expertly balancing a tray on one hand. He approached a couple of bespectacled young women in one corner of the diner.
Their visits to Sparky’s were a bit sporadic, but they never failed to claim that one booth in the corner that no-one else ever sat at no matter how crowded the joint was. The backpacks they always hauled along were positioned further up the booth’s seat cushions, half-open and nearly overspilling with various books.
They always used indoor voices, but he could still pick up bits and pieces of their conversation whenever he was near.
Tonight was no different:
“—he’ll be hungrier than usual,” murmured the one on the left, who boasted short, wavy hair that had been dyed a dark shade of violet. It complimented her shirt, which read ADOPT A FAMILIAR at the top. Pictures of creepy-looking critters were displayed beneath the message, orange-eyed and outlined by blue against the black fabric. “And he’ll need a live one this time.”
“Ooh,” replied the one on the right, who sported a yellow shirt with the screen-printed likeness of some obscure, spikey-haired cartoon character near the collar. A blonde ponytail spilled out from the back of her ball cap. “Who’s it gonna be? The lady whose eyes were found in that jar last month?”
“Nah, she’ll be in some psych ward. Too far-gone to keep on the playing board, y’know?” A sly grin etched its way across Urban Fantasy Nerd’s features. “I was actually wondering if you’d like to choose. Your guy is making the delivery, after all.”
“Ah, that’s right!” Cartoon-Fan snickered in a way that was just a teensy bit unhinged. “I can already see him slipping on some of the blood."
“Third time’s a charm?” Ness asked as he halted, carefully setting this duo’s Usual on the table.
(Two milkshakes: one chocolate, the other strawberry. Yeah, it was kind of basic, but he wasn’t too much of a judgemental guy. Besides, Sparky’s shakes were a much safer option than the lilac-colored drinks that chicken shack around the corner had started selling. And Ness didn’t just carry that opinion because of his employment. During one of his typical night-walks, he’d passed an alley just in time to see said purple beverage oozing through said chicken shack’s windows. The strong, sugary smell wafting off it had reminded him of prion disease.)
The girls both paused. Though they smiled up at him and offered quiet “Thank-yous,” as they moved their respective, sticker-covered laptops out of the way, visible confusion mixed itself into their gratitude.
“For the university’s creative writing contest, I mean,” Ness elaborated. “There were articles in the paper about the last two, and I saw your pictures in the list of winners. Congratulations, by the way.”
“. . .Oh,” Urban Fantasy Nerd answered, exchanging careful glances with her friend. “Yeah. Writing. Let’s go with that.”
“If anyone asks, we were also writing here two months ago,” Cartoon-Fan added with a conspiratory wink. “On Friday, between five-thirty and nine o’clock.”
Ness chuckled, raising one hand to pull an invisible zipper over his lips. “You’ve got it. Enjoy.”
As he retraced his steps to organize some stuff behind the coffee counter, a little voice in the back of his theater-trained head wondered if the girls’ tones had been joking enough. Unlike many times before, he pushed that voice aside.
On one hand, missing person cases did always seem to pop up on the news channels a few days after the two students stopped by to enjoy milkshakes while typing away and occasionally turning the screens of their laptops toward one another.
On the other hand. . .well, those cases were always located states and states away, typically near more seaside areas. None of them had been anywhere close to Utah. (Not yet, at least.)
Besides, even if those girls were somehow connected to more sinister things than their coursework, they were still very nice. Good tippers, too. Nowhere near the worst patrons Ness had served in his time.
The strange customers almost always seemed to come in pairs.
Like the duo of twenty-somethings from last week. One sported ginger hair and a She/They button pinned to their jacket. The soot-stains on said jacket had been very obvious, as were the burn scars on their palms, but she’d still been a delight to make smalltalk with.
The other, a pale young man, had been much more quiet, but still friendly. He’d kept peering through the window at (what was presumably) his or his friend’s car, shakily fidgeting with the headphones around his neck, so it’d taken some time for Ness to realize that his eyes were just as reflective as mirrors.
(For the duration of their stay, the jukebox over by the counter had spat out songs that most certainly weren’t on its index cards. Fine, that might’ve caught Ness a bit off-guard at first, but he still knew to appreciate variety.)
Or the two men who’d come in a few months ago, wearing battered navy-blue bomber jackets and thousand-yard-stares. The one with a dyed-red fauxhawk had screamed and practically leapt out of his skin when Ness came over with menus and his usual greeting, but he’d apologized soon enough. After giving Ness a thorough look-over, that is.
His companion, a similarly dark-eyed man with a larynx that could only be found on seasoned musicians, had muttered, “Don’t mind him. We’ve just. . .had a bit of a rough trip.” His voice hadn’t been unkind, but he’d kept glancing at Ness whenever he thought he wasn’t looking.
Well, perhaps that particular pair had broken the trend a bit. Because a few hours after they’d paid for their food and left, a lone traveler had come in.
His bloodshot eyes—which Ness could’ve sworn were orange instead of brown—had never stopped bulging, never stopped darting this way and that above his rictus of a smile. When he wasn’t speaking, he’d hum or murmur things with a shakiness that was typically found in rabid dogs.
He’d asked for way more coffee refills than could ever be considered healthy, as well as if Ness had seen anyone fitting the descriptions of Red-Haired-Screamer and Wary-Possible-Musician. Ness, following his instincts, had said no, to which the loner started simply shaking his head and grinning with a mouthful of teeth that looked a smidge too sharp.
Or the scruffy man who'd started coming in for breakfast every other week with his young sister in tow. He was living proof that you could recognize someone without officially knowing them. After all, it was pretty damn easy for Ness to remember almost making eye-contact with him, barely moving out of reach of his flashlight’s beam in time, and then having the seconds feel like hours as he watched him shake his head and mutter to himself about seeing things.
It wasn’t like that’d been Ness’ first little midnight rendezvous around Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzaria. Just like how that particular man wasn’t the first security guard who’d gotten dangerously close to spotting him during his unofficial, self-driven investigations.
For the record, Ness knew that said investigations weren’t legal—especially not if you counted some of the things he’d. . .borrowed from the old animatronic jamboree restaurant—but he’d made his peace with that.
He hadn’t been sneaking around there to deal drugs or partake in any himself.
He wasn’t exactly chasing the adrenaline that always came with an evening full of ducking around corners and trying to ignore how loud his shoes sounded against linoleum floors when he rushed to find anything he could feasibly hide behind, underneath, or inside of.
He never meant any harm when it came to snooping.
It was just a simple case of having a little too much curiosity.
Thankfully, Security Guard #13 still had yet to show up at Ness’ place with some accompanying cops, so it seemed he didn’t recognize Ness as anything other than a humble waiter. (Or, if he did actually recognize Ness from that night, then he was miraculously chill enough to not bring it up and get him in trouble.)
The very first time they’d paid Sparky’s a visit, it would’ve been impossible to ignore the distinct smell that had been wafting off of Security Guard #13. It’d had a bite to it; like machine oil mixed with something much more. . .organic.
From that bleak look Ness had seen in his eyes, Security Guard #13 was most certainly NOT what anyone could call unbothered, but he was still polite. Plus, Kid Sister was the type who just deserved all the crayons in the world, what with the little masterpieces she’d decorated the paper menus with.
So, yeah. There was a genuine difference between oddball customers and customers that made you lose some of your faith in humanity.
People who asked for trout to be blended into their yogurt parfait or for their donuts to be topped with slices of pickles that had gathered fuzz from their mysterious journeys at the back of the refrigerator were still easier to handle than people who threw temper tantrums because they didn’t get a refill in under thirty seconds.
Back to the pie-chart—another forty-six percent of customers were perfectly decent and standard.
Plenty of the locals had a soft spot for this joint; Ness had lost count of all the times he’d been told that the pancakes served here were some of the best on planet Earth. Yeah, praise like that technically wasn’t directed at him, but the cooks were great people to work with, so it still made him happy to relay said praise to them.
He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t awkward for someone to confusedly ask if they’d already seen him working at the bar on the other side of town. Even so, that once-a-month occurrence always left him amused rather than annoyed. If anything, it attested to that particular customer’s observation skills.
Sure, he and Sans were identical twins—the fact that their uncle had mixed them up on several different occasions when they were little was still a running joke in the family. But it’d been years since Sans had decided to remedy that via a skeleton face-mask and a dark blue leather jacket, and he’d made a habit to don both aforementioned garments each day ever since then. (Ness was still in partial disbelief that the manager at Grillby’s was cool enough to let Sans wear them over his uniform.)
Just as many of Sans’ customers apparently ended up mistaking him for Ness. Sans got a nice little kick out of that, of course. He hadn’t just been born with a comedic heart—it truly seemed every bone in his body was a funny one. Some people would argue that he just delivered puns upon more puns upon even more puns, but Ness knew his brother better than that.
After all, Sans had been the one to train him to deal with the last category of customers: the thirty percent of entitled neanderthals who thought treating staff as less than human would somehow magically make their miserable lives more interesting.
“Food work is all about balance,” Sans had explained sometime after he and Ness had grown tall enough to take plates and cups from a counter without having to stand on their tip-toes. “You’ve gotta be nice and still let people know that you won’t take their crap. If they’re civil, then you’re helpful. But if they’re rude. . .” Sans had paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “. . .then you have a little fun.”
Ness had always been a pretty fast learner. It’d taken a week or so of practice, yeah, but with his twin’s help, he’d developed a tongue sharp enough to rival any butcher knife in the kitchen.
“You use a lot of big words for a waiter,” snorted a wannabe business bigshot with a wrinkled clip-on tie and a way, waaaaaay over-gelled hairdo that spoke volumes of desperation.
Ness, who’d been explaining the differences between certain ingredients and flavor-enhancing chemicals because Hair Gel’s girlfriend had asked a fair question about the smoothies on the menu, barely batted an eyelid when he came back with, “And you smell a lot like hotdog water for someone who apparently doesn’t work with food.”
“This was the WORST thing I’ve ever put in my mouth!” Exclaimed a woman with an unidentifiable crust caked around the corners of her eyes and an ill-fitting shirt that was advertising some essential oil brand.
“I highly doubt that,” Ness mentioned, raising an eyebrow as he took the plate (which was suspiciously much emptier than when he’d first brought it out) from her table, “but whatever you say. . .”
“Oh! Thank you!” A tiny boy who couldn’t have been older than seven chirped, bouncing in his seat when Ness placed a sundae down in front of him.
Ness had been about to reply, but the boy’s mother—a lady who was trying very hard to look posh (but not succeeding very well due her asymmetrical haircut, as well as all the little green marks around the jewelry she was practically drowning in)—cut him off.
“You don’t need to thank him, sweetheart,” she’d instructed, reaching across the table to corral her son. “That’s his job.”
That one had, admittedly, forced Ness to take a deep breath and appeal to his higher self for a few seconds. Despite this, he’d still made sure to look that Karen dead in the eyes when he observed, “I’m not sure what your problem is, ma’am. But it must be hard for you to pronounce.”
(At least the boy didn’t seem to be too influenced; his bright eyes were nothing but apologetic when Ness came back with the check.)
The relative silence was shattered by the jingling call of that little bell suspended over the front entrance. Ness blinked, his train of thought screeching to a halt. He glanced over in the door’s direction, grinning at a familiar sight.
Another regular; one that Ness got to have actual conversations with on nights like tonight.
Mason glanced around at all the empty tables, brushing back his nearly shoulder-length raven hair and quickly getting the hint that he could just seat himself.
A golden retriever trotted beside him, connected to a leash in his hand via a pink vest that’d been fastened around her shoulders and belly. It was adorned by black velcro straps that read THERAPY DOG in a bold white font. The forest-green sherpa hoodie Mason always seemed to wear was only about half as fluffy as her fur.
Ness ducked into the kitchen. No more than three seconds had passed before the last cook on duty for tonight—a lanky blonde guy who was perhaps the most unapologetically flamboyant foodie you could ever have the honor of knowing—called, “Order Up! Your buddies’ Usuals, fresh from that babbling kiddie pool of oil.”
Dylan set a triad of dishes onto a waiting platter: the first held a stack of waffles (much like Sparky’s pancakes, their recipe was a secret that his very own grandmother had entrusted him with) and fried chicken tenders. The second supported a small mound of bacon. The third was adorned by a couple club sandwiches with a side of mozzarella sticks.
“Thanks, man. Right on time,” Ness called back as he hefted the platter up, balancing it on the anterior region of his forearm like he'd been taught so long ago, and traipsed back out. The door swung to and fro behind him as he headed over to Booth Five.
Though she wasn’t actually in the booth, Checkers was still right by her owner’s side, sitting in a way that could almost remind you of those lion statues guarding the entrance to a Chinese temple. She spotted Ness before Mason did. Her ears perked up, tail starting to wag. Her tongue lapped in and out of her mouth like a party favor as she smiled in that way only dogs could.
Mason, who’d been gazing through the window and fidgeting with his hoodie’s drawstrings, ever-so-slightly flinched as Ness began setting the plates down on the table with a chorus of small clunks. He blinked at the food, as if suddenly remembering the weekly tradition he’d made here.
“How do you always do that?” Mason asked as he turned his head toward Ness, a small smile etching its way across his features.
“Magic,” Ness answered. “Careful, it’s hot.”
He carried the now empty tray back over to the counter. There, his hands became a blur as he snatched up the coffee pot and produced a trio of mugs. After stirring memorized amounts of cream and sugar into the fresh brew, he returned to the table, setting two of the beverages beside the plates.
Ness hovered, his own cup of smoldering caffeine in hand, and glanced around the restaurant. Aside from Mason and those two writers in the corner (who, as Ness had learned, took generous amounts of time with the shakes they always ordered), Sparky’s was empty tonight.
With that in mind, Ness dragged a chair away from one of the other tables, positioning it at the end of the booth. Yeah, he could’ve just sat on the opposite side of Mason, but that part of the booth was typically reserved for another one of his friends.
Subtle relief washed over Ness’ knees as he took a seat; he’d been standing and walking pretty much all day.
Mason plucked a strip of bacon from one of the plates, checking to make sure that it was nice and warm without threatening to burn the palette. He then lightly tossed it over to Checkers, who snapped it out of the air almost like a frog catching flies. She lowered her head as the treat crunched between her teeth.
“How’ve things been?” Ness inquired, taking a sip of his coffee. “The theater’s gotten busy, yeah?”
Mason nodded as he took a fork and knife into his hands, cutting a piece off of one of the waffles and dipping it into the complimentary cup of syrup. “Yeah, it really has. Feels like whenever one movie runs its course and is taken off our roster, two more pop up in its place. Especially now that Scream 3 is finally on the market."
“. . .Oh, that’s right! It is!” Ness ever-so-slightly jumped in his seat. After enjoying the first two movies, he’d been meaning to give the latest installment a look. But so far, whether it was Sparky’s being slammed on the more favorable days or Royal Edgar’s Cinema being too crowded for his liking, things had just kept getting in the way.
Acting on instinct, Ness fished a pencil from one of his waist-apron’s pockets. At first, said pencil might not have seemed like anything special. But then you saw Fabio: a priceless treasure shaped like a rubber chicken’s head covering up the eraser. Ness started spinning the pencil between his fingers, causing Fabio to wiggle as though it was alive.
“Have you seen it already? Is it good? I have so many ideas about where the story could pick up from—”
“Hey, hey. Slow down," Mason remarked with some clear exasperation. “I haven't, but I am scheduled to project its last showing sometime next week. . .” He took a bite out of one of the chicken tenders, humming thoughtfully as he chewed. He must’ve seen the glint in Ness’ eyes, because he offered a sly smirk and lowered his voice as he continued.
“Tell you what: I’ll find a way to sneak you into the projection booth. That way, we can check it out together when the day comes.”
“Really? You’d do that for me?” Ness asked, jokingly clutching his mug in both hands and bringing it close to his heart.
“Sure. It’s really not too different from the customers smuggling their own snacks past the ticket desk,” Mason shrugged, though his mischievous demeanor briefly turned deadpan. “So long as you don’t play detective the entire time. My boss would rip me a new one if I just paused the movie every five minutes to let you brainstorm and talk.”
Ness scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It wouldn’t be every five minutes.”
Mason raised an eyebrow. “You’re right; it’d probably be every two minutes.” He forked up another bite of the waffles, firmly ignoring the offended waiter noises.
“Oh, and don’t try to guilt-trip me out of my food, either. I’ve already got one moocher to deal with.” Mason scratched Checkers’ ears, to which she responded via tilting her head to the side, an undeniable trace of smugness in the warmth of her amber eyes.
“You drive a hard bargain,” Ness pronounced, his voice dripping with much more sarcasm than usual, “but fine. I can work with that.”
“Uh-huh. You’d better,” Mason snorted, reaching over to shake hands with his friend as though the two of them were lawyers who’d just settled on some sleazy business arrangement.
Mason was a complex person. Everyone had issues, and he was no exception to that. Not like he was at all open about said issues, but once you got to know him, you’d start to see them. (Plus, that just seemed a lot nicer than describing him as a swarm of issues shaped like a man.) He was the type to constantly shift in his seat, to give most people the side-eye, to get lost in his thoughts and grimace at nothing until he snapped himself out of it.
At least he seemed content working at the theater. Even with the spark of horror that never seemed to leave his eyes, Mason was clearly a creative bastard. Sometimes he’d bring notebooks in and take breaks from his meal to fill their pages with paragraphs or sketches. He really did seem to have the potential for acting, maybe even directing. If his critiques and commentary on the movies he had to watch from the projection booth were anything to go by, then the projects he could possibly work on would be nothing short of awesome.
He’d actually been one of Freddy’s past security guards. Ironically enough, he and Ness hadn’t met there. Not that Ness minded, since A. if that’d been the case, there probably would’ve been way more confused screaming than there usually was at Sparky’s, and B. considering the fact that Mason’s employment had apparently lasted a whopping one singular night. . .
Ness still didn’t know the full story, and he could tell pressing Mason for info wouldn’t end well. But with the few snippets Jack had carefully enlightened him with. . .well—
Speak of the devil.
The front door’s bell only had about half a second to chime yet again, almost drowned out by rapid footsteps.
“You’re late,” Ness jokingly chastised as he caught dark brown skin and black hair in his peripheral vision. He shifted in his chair, moving his legs to make some room under the table as another one of his regular-friends hurried over to claim Booth Five’s empty seat.
“Yeah, yeah. Sue me,” Jack retorted, instantly propping his elbows on the table to knead at his forehead. It took a few long seconds for him to notice how one of his favorite dishes had apparently been waiting for him. He squinted at the food, then at Ness. “. . .I wasn’t sure I’d even be able to make it tonight?”
“And yet, here you are,” Ness replied, the definition of coy with how his shoulders popped up and down again.
Jack might’ve wanted to ask more questions, but Mason cut him off. “Look, I don’t get it either. He doesn’t know, but he just knows.”
Jack considered this, then tilted his head to convey the type of acceptance that only came when you couldn’t really question things that probably should be questioned because you already had too many things to focus on.
“Thanks, dude,” he murmured, nodding to Ness as he plucked one of the mozzarella sticks from his plate.
Ness nodded back, taking a few more gulps of coffee. “No problem.”
Jack paused mid-bite, eyes darting over to the brew that’d been poured for him. He scrutinized it, then raised the mug up and started chugging like a champ.
The display made Ness glad that he’d taken the time to experiment with coffee so long ago. There was no doubting how he could now calculate exactly how much time it took for coffee to go cold. Yeah, this particular serving had been fresh out of the pot a few minutes ago, but by now it had to be at optimal temperature. Neither scalding nor tepid: just nice and warm.
After about a moment, Jack pulled the now empty mug away from his face, taking a deep breath as he set it back down on the table.
“Rough day?” Ness inquired, specific parts of his brain starting to tick.
Something seemed off.
It wasn’t like he had any room to talk about slight bean juice addictions. And he certainly couldn’t blame Jack for a dependency (especially since he’d even shown some undeniable intrigue at Ness’ argument that coffee was a type of soup). Sure, Jack wasn’t narcoleptic, but when a day-and-night operating cabbie didn’t have access to some perks, things just wouldn’t go well for him or his passengers.
But whenever Jack popped in for a bite and a chat, it was easy to assume that he’d be heading home and going to bed right after his meal. Right now, however, his demeanor was anything but tired. His shoulders were rigid. His eyes were more or less threatening to pop right out of their sockets. In fact, he almost seemed to be weighing the options of never sleeping again.
Jack chewed his lip as he glanced in the waiter’s direction. He slowly nodded. “. . .You could say that.”
Ness exchanged glances with Mason, who had obviously seen the signs for himself. As did Checkers, since she quietly maneuvered around Ness’ chair to rest her head on Jack’s lap, peering up at him with an almost human-like air of understanding. Jack didn’t hesitate to pet the shiny fur along the dog’s neck, to which her tail started wagging but she otherwise remained still.
“What happened?” Mason asked, sitting up a little straighter. “If the vibes you’re giving off got her attention, then it must be something serious.”
Jack grimaced, closing his eyes with what seemed to be more force than necessary, taking a few long seconds to rub at their lids.
“Did you see any rabbit-shaped things out by the dumpster? I think they only come around once a month or so, but I always feel strange if I look at them.” The words glided out of Ness’ mouth and into the air before he could think.
Self-induced humiliation wrapped its awful, clammy hands around his ribcage as two confused glances were aimed in his direction.
“. . .What?” Jack and Mason blurted in near-perfect unison.
“What?” Ness echoed, blinking as his voice instantaneously grew a smidge louder than before. He rushed to plaster his typical, happy-go-lucky demeanor back onto his face, hoping that pretending he hadn’t spoken at all would convince his friends that he actually hadn’t.
Not only did his latest sentence sound weird as all hell, but it’d also been downplayed as all hell. Because when Ness had said strange, what he’d really meant was the pounding, churning, pummeling agony that should only ever be present in your stomach after you’ve accidentally swallowed a few dozen live rats that just so happen to be whacked out on cocaine for whatever godforsaken reason.
And while he wasn’t a perfect angel, Ness would never wish that particular pain on anyone else. So, the fewer people who knew about the floppy-eared cryptids (which Ness could’ve sworn looked like they’d been covered in mucus) that were apparently engrossed in gang warfare with the local raccoons, the better.
“Ah, did you get a bad passenger today?” Ness coughed. Jack had to deal with as many entitled idiots as Ness, if not even more. Hell, taking turns venting about that stuff was something they’d initially bonded over.
He peered through the window next to the booth—Jack’s cab was parked close enough to see that there wasn’t anything to indicate an accident. Not a life-threateningly serious one, at least.
“Not exactly,” Jack replied, following his gaze. Where Ness’ eyes were curious, Jack’s were currently anxious and mistrusting. That was another red flag: Jack may not have treated his taxi like it was his baby, but he still took pretty good care of it. “Just a few more weirdos.”
Mason hummed, tilting his head. “How weird specifically?” He’d heard plenty of Jack’s tales from the road; as he called on Jack for rides somewhat often, he’d even ended up being part of those tales.
Jack knitted his brows, fidgeted in place. “You don't want to know."
“. . .Then why did you make it sound so damn vague?” Mason retorted, now dripping with incredulousness. “The less specific details are, then the more they’re gonna nag at someone’s brain.”
“He’s got a point,” Ness agreed, lightly tapping Fabio’s pencil against his mug.
“Like that’s my fault,” Jack snorted. “Most people wouldn’t believe me if I told them.”
Ness offered an encouraging smile. “Good thing we’re not most people, then.”
Mason nodded. “Damn right. C’mon, Jack; are you really saying something could top the crackhead I had to share the backseat with last month?”
“Yes, I am,” Jack whisper-shouted through gritted teeth, “because it was a bear!”
Silence (save for the soft click-clack of keyboards from the corner of the diner, that is).
Jack pursed his lips, looking equal parts exasperated and worried. He sighed yet again, reaching up to press his fingers against his temples.
“. . .What kind of bear was it?” Ness eventually tried.
Mason, who’d previously been squinting while his mouth opened and closed with no words coming out, turned his head to face Ness with such speed and force that he might’ve actually given himself whiplash. “That’s the first thing you focus on?!”
Ness made a shaky lame gesture. “It’s a fair question! What’re you focusing on?” (He wasn’t wrong. There was a lot of variety among bears, after all. And a bear that lived in the woods and had huge claws and could outeat, outrun, outswim, and probably even outdrink the average person would be a lot more to handle than one of the bears that had attended the latest local Pride parade.)
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you,” Mason declared, returning his attention to Jack, “look significantly less mauled than most people who get close to bears! Seriously, how is your face still connected to your skull?!”
“I didn’t mea—!” Jack was about to go on the defensive, but stopped short. “What, were you expecting me to get ripped to shreds tonight? So damn sorry if I didn’t get the memo!”
“No! Of course not!” Mason contended. “Look, you can’t just say you had a run-in with a bear and leave it at that!”
Jack threw his hands up. “Well, I told you you didn’t want to know!”
“How the hell can we not NEED to know now?” Ness pointed out. Though he was growing just as confused as Mason, he tried to keep his voice even.
Jack gave him an exhausted look before craning his neck to rest his head against the booth’s seat, staring at the ceiling.
“It was a huge robot,” he finally clarified. “Looked like it’d been at the bottom of a scrap heap for years; I’d guess it was older than my dad. But its eye glowed blue like the machines inside it were still working. It made the car shake—I’m honestly surprised the back tires never gave out. And God damn, the smell. . .rust and blood and mucus, I swear!”
Now it was Mason’s turn to go rigid. A tidal wave of emotion seemed to sweep through his features; first surprise, then recognition, and then dread. He placed a hand on the nearest corner of the table as if to steady himself.
“It was wearing a black top hat and bowtie, wasn’t it?” He murmured. It sounded much more like a statement than a question, and the way his tone had become so hollow didn’t help.
Jack lowered his head, clearly unsure whether or not to make eye-contact as he nodded.
“Sounds like the way Freddy was designed. . .” Ness mused without quite meaning to.
Memories of the huge sign that had been built to loom over the old pizzeria’s front entrance flooded into his head. The blinking lights that bordered the establishment’s title and seemed to chase each other around and around and around. The life-sized cutout of the one and only Freddy Fazbear himself, using one paw to adjust his bowtie and the other to wave, seemingly beckoning customers to wander inside.
Those memories dissolved as Ness winced and glanced back at Mason, who was now reaching up with a shaking hand to grasp at his hoodie’s collar, tugging it to cover up the top of an old, deep scar that dragged along the skin of his neck. Ness shuffled in his seat, trying not to stare at how quickly the color drained from his friend’s face.
Checkers was back by Mason’s side in an instant, bracing her paws against the seat as she licked at his face. Mason blinked, a huge shudder rippling through his chest as he hugged his pet.
A few minutes dragged by, feeling like an hour apiece and jeering at the trio as they went.
“So.” Mason finally announced, still keeping his gentle-yet-obviously-desperate hold on Checkers. “Let me get this straight: that. . .that thing got into your cab like it paid rent just a few hours ago?”
Jack pursed his lips, nodding again. “There was a kid with it, too. A little girl. She didn’t even seem scared at all. The whole ride, she was smiling and hugging the bear’s arm—”
“Wait, you actually drove it somewhere?!” Mason demanded.
Jack sputtered. “What other choice did I have?!”
“I mean, that’s kind of literally his job,” Ness mentioned.
True, he was grappling with the fact that he and his friends had apparently been transported into some cheap bizzarofiction novel. And yet, somehow, this wasn’t even the craziest story that’d been relayed to him from a customer. He peered down at Fabio as though it was about to start contributing to this conversation. “Where did you take them?”
Jack raised an eyebrow at Ness (which he guessed couldn’t be helped. Ness already had an idea, but it was rude to just assume, wasn’t it?). “Where else? That old pizza joint you’ve been trying to write an encyclopedia on.”
Mason was about to say something else, but stopped short in favor of turning his shock toward Ness.
Ness raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “Look, I know you don’t like that place, but just remember that I don’t question what you do with your free-time.”
“That’s right. And even if you did, you wouldn’t have to, because I don’t spend my free-time poking around the fourth Circle of Hell!” Mason snarked.
“I won’t lie and say it’s not creepy,” Ness admitted, unable to stop a chill from racing down his spine at the memory of the restaurant’s grimy wall posters, the draft that always seemed to be in the air over there, the disturbingly sour tang of what he’d hoped was just ancient pizza sauce, “but that still seems pretty harsh.”
Mason gawked, fragments of words leaking through his teeth.
“If we’re looking at the bigger picture,” Jack coughed, probably attempting to steer Mason away from a potential stroke, “then nothing really happened tonight. The bear didn’t even make a peep the whole time. I didn’t get hurt, and that girl didn’t get hurt. She even left a handful of change when we got to the restaurant.”
Ness squinted and tilted his head at that. As far as he knew, the rules Jack applied to his cab were pretty lax and basic, but he’d always been firm on never taking money from lone child passengers.
Then again, if the child passenger in question was traveling with a huge robotic animal that apparently had enough sentience to use a taxi in the first place, it was probably best to just go along with whatever happened and leave the sanity-questioning session for later.
Jack fiddled with the zipper on his jacket. “. . .That actually wasn’t even the worst part of tonight’s shift.”
Mason leaned back against the leather seat, looking very much lightheaded. His eyes bulged from their sockets as he furiously motioned for his friend to elaborate.
Jack hesitated before explaining, “Well, once the girl and the bear were out, I decided to just call it a day. After I got far enough away from the pizzeria, I parked by one of the downtown curbs and switched the car’s sign to Off Duty. I was trying to get a catnap in—”
“It’s a miracle you could even try to sleep after that damn bear basically held you hostage,” Mason interjected.
“—when someone knocked on the window. I told ‘em to read the sign and come find me later, but they opened up the door and got in anyway. So, I was about to kick them out and. . .” Jack trailed off, shaking his shoulders as though a few dozen cockroaches had spontaneously taken up nest in his jacket.
“And. . .?” Ness echoed, the curiosity-concern cocktail in his mind getting stronger.
“And there was some tiny doll in my passenger seat,” Jack concluded. “Looked creepy as hell.”
Ness hummed in consideration. “Sounds like it could just be a weird prank? The teens in that area are always following strange trends.”
Jack nervously shook his head. “I couldn’t see anyone outside the cab. It only took a few seconds for me to look; there’s no way anyone could move fast enough to hide after they put the doll in.”
“A tiny doll. . ?” Mason’s brow furrowed in thought for a couple seconds, then promptly returned to its collision course for Mars. He leaned over the table. “Did it have bug-eyes and buck teeth? Was it wearing one of those stupid propeller hats and holding a red-and-yellow striped balloon?”
Jack’s face contorted in confusion as he nodded. “. . .That pretty much sums it up.”
Though his expression was still grim, Mason’s fear quickly metamorphosed into some good ol’ fashioned aggravation. “That’s the bastard,” he seethed, knuckles turning white.
Jack blinked, perplexity slowly overtaking his latest case of heebie-jeebies. “Wait, you’ve seen that thing before?”
“I have, unfortunately.” Mason grimaced. An odd type of adrenaline etched its way across his face. “Is it still in the cab?”
Jack nodded again. “I didn’t want to risk touching it.”The words were barely out of his mouth when Mason rose from the booth and stalked outside through Sparky’s front entrance. Checkers trotted after him, the tiredness of an actual nurse flickering in her eyes.
Ness and Jack basically had frontrow seats to observe their friend approaching Jack’s cab, ripping the passenger-side door open and fishing something out before slamming it closed again.
With that, Mason raced to the edge of the parking lot and proceeded to dropkick what had to be the mysterious balloon-toting doll out of sight.
Despite his shock, part of Ness still felt relieved that Mason hadn’t simply deposited it into the dumpster. Just in case those awful rabbit-looking things happened to be paying a visit tonight. . .
@sammys-magical-au @that-bat @th3w00ds @bee-the-matpat-simp @touyubesposts @crazy-obsessed-enby @i-used-to-wear-the-fedora @holyawesomestitches @s-e-v-e-n-24 @sotogalmo @ciphershadow @deethedustyassdumbass @theechoingmadness @its-a-goddamn-ass-race @zam-witch @box-goat @redd-byrd @icantmakeupagoodname @pleasedontmind-the-emerald @transparentghosty @vegaslvrr @itzqueers-blog @wannabeavocaloidmystery @shivr0ygf @ciara-clycone @not-made-of-actual-rye @m0on-shro0m @imafruitbowl @azure-trash @il0v3mus1cals @v1r-x @kafkaisnotdead @junaslagoon @alicethemenace @ilovenikkisixx @m00nlight-mexican @w0rd3855 @head-without-a-fucking-brain. @unkn0wn-nys @not-made-of-actual-rye @101k-t101 @theonlykala @dividel @riff-is-on-a-fucking-crisis @roselily2006 @max-afton @abe-the-detective-blog @floating-above-sea-level @madhare051
#my writing#my stories#fnaf movie#fnaf movie spoilers#ness the waiter#waiterpat/ness#matpat#egopats#matthew patrick#jack the cabbie#cabbie!cory/jack#coryxkenshin#kenshinegos#cory williams#mason kingsley/nightguard!mark#mark's abandoned-nightguard-cameo-character#markiplier#mark fischbach#tw food/drink#tw eating/drinking#tw implied trauma#tw mentions of blood#tw mentions of past violence
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Marz was living in her own drama, story, and dance and for a good chunk of her childhood she did not know.
She lives and dies and lives and dies.
(There are pieces where she knows but doesn't and yet)
She lives she dies she lives she lives she lives
she dreams
Marz dreams of pollen thicker than air. Marz dreams of a dog boy with a grin sharper than his heart.
Marz dreams of shattered walls and wailing friends. She dreams of a collapsed Tangent, older than she should be.
(Marz finds trinkets and the dreams linger)
Marz put together a puzzle of her creation. She does not know until she does.
She does not know for a long time.
(Eventually, one day, the puzzle will be complete and her plan will unfold brighter than a dream)
Marz lives one life and fails to usurp Lum. She leaves hints embedded in the colony printer for her next life that follows the cycle.
In another, Marz ventures outside the walls once as a child. She doesn't remember now why but she saw Dys in his element and thought there was Something here for someone.
She took a piece of wormwood and buried it near the entrance of the Depot, where she later found a wormwood sapling growing three lives later.
There are many, many pieces Marz lays out and finds and removes and places again and they do not make sense in isolation.
They're echoes. They're easter eggs.
In one life, the puzzle leads Marz to following Tang's lead. She works in the lab even though at first she hates it but...
But she's clever, and knows things, and it frustrates Tang to no end.
(They are very loud about it behind closed doors.)
She twists and turns the threads and the sequences and all that is science under her nails.
(She is plotting)
In another life of the whirlwind of the wormhole, Marz is drawn to Engineering and the chaos Nomi-Nomi brings when Helios lands.
(All the while, amongst the whirs of gears and dying robots, Marz is hearing Congruence's heart beat through the colony)
Marz is building a new pathway.
Every hidden note, every new plotted life.
She has brokered peace on Vertumna before, she has brought peace to all the kids she grew up with but...
It keeps going. The cycle never ends.
In some life, at some point Marz had decided there was a way to end the cycle.
To blast past Vertumna before entering the wormhole, to cut the tie she had at its root.
(The root, of course, was not entering it, but most lives she did not and could not know this)
But Marz builds and connives and finally, one starfield cycle on Stratos, she changes the course.
They are no longer bound for Vertumna. As the ship drifts farther away - with Congruence hiding the anomaly as long as possible as a favor to the little "social engineer" - Marz feels her dreams fade away.
It is when the adults realize at the point of no return and set sights on another far off planet that Marz' dreams speak to her again.
She escaped one wormhole only to fall into another.
-
Crossposted on ao3 and pillowfort
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john “soap” mactavish x reader
ft. ghost
cute little thoughts about soap and reader finding a place to enjoy
reader is gender neutral! can be read as platonic or romantic!
my favorite order at MY local diner is included as a little easter egg hehe
one of the ways soap shows you he cares is by remembering as much information about you as he possibly can
pov: you and soap are at a diner you two love to visit on your off time after being relocated
a little establishment that’s pretty close to the base, just near enough to be able to sneak off without being caught be ghost
simon always knows when you and johnny leave camp, nothing really escapes him, especially the goings on at work. even though he will ALWAYS be able to find another task that needs completing for one or both of you, he also knows that soap loves the thrill of your “secret” rendezvous. he won’t admit it, but he finds it very cute, and how could he put a stop to such a simple pleasure?
anyways! back to soap!
so you two are at the your little hide out hole-in-the-wall, just chatting it up about anything and everything
soap LOVES to gossip
he will tell you some probably (read: definitely) fake stories. like the time he had to share a bed with the rest of the 141 at a safe house, and he SWEARS TO GOD that when he woke up in the middle of the night he saw simon and price cuddling in their sleep.
you can make fun of him all you want, call him a no good liar, say you KNOW it’s not true, you can even bring proof! tell him about the time you and ghost had to share a little patch of floor for bedtime, and when you knocked into him in his sleep he punched you in the stomach so hard you almost threw up.
soap says simon must just not like you that much, because he SWEARS ghost has kissed him on the forehead in his sleep.
he is such a faker.
there is no real point in arguing with him, he will defend each and everyone of his tall tales to his death. he has swore on everything he holds dear, including his mother, and locked pinkies with you so many times that it’s a little inside greeting for the two of you now.
you and soap have also challenged yourselves to try EVERYTHING on the menu. johnny insists that you give every menu item a shot, even the ones you know for a fact you won’t/don’t like. HOWEVER, he always has a clever excuse to why he can’t eat anything with mushrooms.
the seriousness of his “allergy” to mushrooms has been recorded ranging from hives, to immediate anaphylactic shock, he’s even claimed that he will combust into flames.
YOU have to try everything though. no excuses.
once you have managed to taste the entire menu, you go back to ordering whatever is your favorite
which brings us to soap’s next little quirk
soap LOVES ordering for you
not in a controlling way of course! he just loves to show off how well he knows you, to the smallest detail!
he knows EXACTLY how you like your favorite drink. how many creamers and sugar packets you like in your coffee, the juice you prefer (and has no shame in asking for mixes of several types, since he knows that you like an apple and cranberry juice concoction), and if you like iced tea, he knows how many lemon slices you like and if you like it sweetened or unsweetened. he knows all of this by HEART. your preferences are tattooed onto his soul.
so when the waitress comes over and turns to you to ask for your order, soap holds up both of his hands frantically and exclaims for you to wait. he then leans forward with his eyes closed and his elbows on the table, fingers massaging his temples.
“hmmm-“ he starts, much too seriously for the problem at hand, “they wan’ a denver skillet. eggs sunny side up. extra cheese and peppers. replace the toast with pancakes. with chocolate chips. and sprinkes. and whipped cream.”
he breaks character when he can’t hold back anymore and his face cracks into a smile, “could ya’ make the pancakes into a mouse?”
the waitress is charmed and amused by the two of you, and especially appreciates the generous tip she gets from you both, so she is more than willing to put up with your shenanigans.
soap still has a sly grin when he asks you if you’d like to change anything
soap is a human garbage can, so if you order for him (just make sure it doesn’t have mushrooms), whatever it is, he will loudly declare that it was the best meal he’s ever had.
when you and the rest of the 141 eventually have to move from this base to the next, this little tradition continues. you and soap immediately hunt out the closest local eatery, and start all over.
bonus!!
soap cannot keep his mouth shut, and will tell ghost all of the details of your excursions when he gets bored on coms.
ghost will just ignore him most of the time, just humming in false acknowledgment of whatever the hell soap is saying.
BUT. soap doesn’t know it, but his Lt. has taken the liberty to visit the same establishments as the two of you, and has escaped running into you guys by the skin of his teeth.
thank god he never stays, because soap would be in SO MUCH SHIT
#john mctavish#soap x y/n#soap x reader#cod modern warfare#cod x y/n#cod x gn!reader#john mactavish x you#john mactavish x reader
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Hi! Same anon that asked if Justin Kirk as Raglan James is a real rumor. Thank you for responding!
I just wanted to add that I am still a little skeptical though of it being the real Raglan James. I could see Raglan James using his abilities to stalk the known vampires and maybe Daniel, but if Justin Kirk is actually playing Raglan then it also seems like a bit of a waste of his talents unless they skip the taking over the younger body and all of the potential commentary and themes that would go along with that. Setting up the character over time would work, but I don't think you would need someone like Justin Kirk unless he is going to be playing the one who actually switches with Lestat.
Granted, I do think TotBT is a good book, but it would probably need to be adapted more in spirit than literal exact plot points. I think it mostly works because you are inside of Lestat's head and able to follow his thoughts and emotions, which is more difficult on screen. They also need to go through the Queen of the Damned storyline because Lestat needs to have gone through that specific trauma and the body horror he is experiencing for his motivations to fully make sense as well. I also think they would need to make it so the audience still "sees" Sam as Lestat for the most important moments. It is such a difficult storyline and arc that the audience needs to be able to maintain that connection. Justin Kirk would probably work though as showing the audience what the other characters see.
Regardless, I guess we just have to wait and see how it all plays out!
(Sure!! 💕)
We do :)
And I agree, they would need to be real clever with TtotBT. And they would probably need to find a way to show "us" Sam, yes.
Re Justin Kirk and Raglan James... not sure if you know that Marius also has connections to the Talamasca?! So.... I'm... not 100% convinced this isn't another foil, and "just" an easter egg for book fans (if it holds true), like so many things^^.
Because yes, I... also see Justin Kirk a bit wasted in that part. Of course we do not know how they will spin it (given the way they reinvented stuff I could easily see them surprising us there, big time!), but it would be incredibly interesting if Daniel had maybe some contacts to the Talamasca as well (after all he did run from Armand a few times, who knows?!) and so Marius might take on that mask?
In any case it would be extremely interesting, if indeed true.
4 weeks now :)))
#Anonymous#asks#ask nalyra#iwtv s2#iwtv#amc iwtv#interview with the vampire#interview with the vampire s2#amc interview with the vampire#interview with the vampire amc#iwtv amc#iwtv 2022#raglan james#justin kirk#the tale of the body thief
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Pyroar line?
I don't know if this is just a me thing, but something about Litleo's face has always been off-putting to me. It's something with the perfectly round eyes, head, and ear shape; it looks more like a stuffed animal than a regular animal. Which would be fine if that was its theme ala Stufful, but in reality it's just a strange side-effect of stabilization.
Anyway, beyond that, Litleo's just kind of boring; the colors are good, with the neutral browns offset by some bright pops of red, and the design's simple enough, but there's not much to actually look at here. Then again, what matters the most with pre-evos is that they provide a good jumping off point for the evolutions to do something interesting, which Pyroar...
...well, don't really accomplish.
A lot of people will say that Pyroar are fire lions with nothing else going for them, but I would argue that they're fire lions with one (1) thing going for them. That thing being that the male Pyroar's mane actually has a Daimonji 大 symbol hidden in the yellow part (said symbol being lit on fire during the the Gozan no Okuribi festival). Those of you familiar with Pokemon moves might also recognize this as the symbol used in the move fire blast:
This is legitimately clever, but there are two problems with it. First, only the male Pyroar have this easter egg, leaving the females with nothing really going for them. And secondly, Pokemon is an international franchise; if the most interesting part of your design only makes sense in one of the many languages the games are published in, it's probably not the best idea.
That aside, these guys are just kind of okay. I like that they reflect actual lion sexual dimorphism (just with the females getting some hair on top of their heads so they have something colorful to match the males). Their behaviors are also accurate to IRL lions:
And while I do find the faces still slightly off-putting (why does the muzzle connect to the eye??), the colors are otherwise well done and the designs work okay enough for what they are.
Mostly this line just needed either stronger visuals (non-language specific ones preferably) or a more prominent theme. What we got is fine, but it doesn't ultimately stick out much. Maybe if the manes were actually made of fire (though then again, that's just Rapidash 2.0...) or it had some really good markings like the Luxray line has.
One thing that could benefit this line could be a regional. I could see a rock-type based off of either stone lion statues or spinxes, for example, or a grass-type with flower manes. I don't know, just give it something more interesting. As is, it's not really bad, just underwhelming.
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thank you for tagging me @sixofsol !! 🥰💖
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
144 on my public pseud, 85 in my lil anon collection, 3 floating around secretly in another anon collection, and about 10-15 super super old ones that i orphaned from various asunder fandoms over the years. so at least 232, probably closer to 250 (dear god)
2. What’s your total AO3 word count?
1,688,252 words of non-orphaned works (dear GOD)
3. What fandoms do you write for?
primarily six of crows/SAB netflix, but recent fandoms that i might write more for soon include: red white and royal blue, percy jackson, winter’s orbit, bbc merlin, the last binding series, & the pulleyverse
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
hours (whumpy firstprince fic)
you owe me for blowing up my bed (sab verse missing scene)
like putting on a costume (wesper PWP)
gorgeous (wesper PWP)
a choice of two locked doors (wesper arranged marriage)
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
i always try to!! but i’m not the best at it all the time 😅 i make more of an effort to reply to comments that are longer or that draw out particular parts of the fic that the reader liked!
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
i’m a big slut for a bittersweet but hopeful ending rather than angsty ones!! like possibly my ghost jesper fic because the final scene is Quite Literally wylan dying but like, that’s kinda happy given context???
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
i am still personally enamoured with the vibes in the final scene of ACOTLD 🥰 and it makes me very happy! so! that one!
8. Do you get hate on fics?
uhhh most regularly i just get snarky gobshites trying to be like, clever and smug about shit, which never really works because i generally don’t care? but then also i sometimes get transphobic hate speech so idk 😅
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
i can't answer this non-sarcastically but like YEAH I'm a VERY HORNY WRITER and I feel like it says more about you than me if you haven't been able to guage that 😅 idk I have gotten a lot tamer though by including porn in longer fics compared to the very explicit collection of PWPs I used to write??
10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?
the closest i’ve gotten to crossover is sneaking shadow and bone characters into SOC fics! or like, the most subtle of references and cameos when I need random OCs like Easter eggs
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
a few times but i’ve always been vindicated by the fact they’ve never been well done? like it's always been word for word plagiraism (and also the ao3 abuse team is very good at taking things down)
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
not that i’m actually aware of! just podfics sometimes which has been nice 😊
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
never finished one but i’ve got 2-3 wips being co-written with my girlfriend atm 😊
14. What’s your all time favourite ship?
i feel like it’s a cop out to say wesper but like,,,, 😅 idk! i like my lil stupid guys!! i like their vibe!
15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
I think my problem is that I'm delusional enough to think that I will finish literally all of the WIPs I have started and want to finish even though that's like, 100 fics or something idiotic 😅
16. What are your writing strengths?
Themes and foreshadowing I think!! Like running themes for sure but I've had definitive compliments on my plotting before! I also think I'm pretty good at dialogue, especially arguments, and narrative tension/feelings! 👀
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
i am not very good at cutting my darlings which means things get a bit meandering and diluted sometimes 😅
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
i can get behind it in certain circumstances! personal preference is to translate large chunks of text ie "'[English words],' he said in [language]" but I do write individual words like pet names in other languages
19. First fandom you wrote for?
fucking hetalia when i was like, 12 🫥 but i have also in past written for: homestuck, haikyuu, yuri on ice, the adventure zone (balance & graduation) and (CONSTANTLY forget this) miraculous ladybug! some of which are better than others ngl 😅
20. Favorite fic you’ve written?
well this is like asking me to pick children & is also cruel when i have 230 of them klajdsfsadjfk UHHH? i mean this is wicked cheating but im really attached to the bridgerton au i haven’t actually finished yet! it’s fully written, but needs editing, and one that i really really like!! in terms of fics i’ve POSTED, i really like “not just girls” (trans egg wylan), “you yearn to feel no hunger” (SAB-verse coda/character study) and a real deep cut, “only imaginary people disappear to peru for ten years” (missing scene from the lost future of pepperharrow)! idk i like a lot of the fics i’ve posted which is a nice position to be in 😅
most folks i know have done this i think but tagging: @kelliealtogether @apricior @doorsclosingslowly & anyone else that sees this & fancies it 😇
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Today I beat Banjo Kazooie - Bubble Bog Brewery, a romhack by Mark Kurko that is a remake of a much older hack by Daveyx0, as part of a Halloween 2023 celebration. Kurko does love his small Holiday mods and I am greatful for them.
I don't think this is as strong as Kurko's other mods, there's no clever new dialogue or hooks, there's not as many easter eggs, it's just a level with a vague halloween skin for you to sandbox around in and try to find everything, there's no proper ending or exit, you just quit playing once you get everything, but even so, I had a fun time. Us Banjo fans are starving, so we'll eat any food we can get, and it just happens that Kurko is the one doing most of the cooking, and he's good at what he does. Music is pretty good though, mostly a minor key take on Bubble Gloop Swamp but they slip in a few other changes, even some Donkey Kong 64 musical easter eggs I appreciated.
TL;DR is that this is a solid Banjo Kazooie level, so play it if you like Banjo, but don't expect it to eat your whole afternoon or have a ton of new ideas, it took me like 20 mintues. Woulda been shorter, but one of the jiggy locations really stumped me... and that's the only clue I'm going to give you. It stumped me.
I'd really love to see more Holiday themed hacks, not just of Banjo, but in general. I like to play seasonly appropriate hacks around the last three months of the year, but I also still like playing my familiar comfort food games. So give me a Zelda where the grass is purple and Link is wearing orange or something.
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The opioid crisis — and the family that helped birth it — has inspired a number of books, documentaries, and TV shows, many of which aim to highlight the suffering caused by Purdue Pharma's criminally reckless marketing and promotion of OxyContin. In Netflix's The Fall of the House of Usher, however, Haunting honcho Mike Flanagan uses the works of Edgar Allen Poe to explore how moral and physical rot consumes the all-powerful (and fictional) family behind a sinister drug empire. Like Succession reinterpreted by the world's foremost author of Poe fan fiction, Usher is a Gothic-tinged horror lark that's more superficial than Flanagan's previous work but still delivers some creepy chills.
Fortunato Pharmaceuticals CEO Roderick Usher (Bruce Greenwood) has six children (by five different mothers), and when Usher begins, all of them are dead. The series is told in flashback, as a broken and ailing Roderick delivers his "confession" to Auguste Dupin (Carl Lumbly), a federal prosecutor who has been trying unsuccessfully for decades to bring down the Usher family's corrupt drug company. As a violent storm lashes the night outside, the two longtime enemies face off inside the dilapidated remains of the home where Usher and his brilliant sister, Madeline (Mary McDonnell), spent much of their very unhappy childhood. Over the course of eight hour-long episodes, Roderick eventually reveals the true reason his children met their ends — as visions of their mutilated corpses appear to torment him without warning.
Usher is packed with clever Poe Easter eggs. Roderick's children — incompetent eldest child Frederick (Henry Thomas), icy wellness entrepreneur Tamerlane (Samantha Sloyan), shamelessly ambitious medical engineer Victorine (T'Nia Miller), drug-addled man about town Napoleon (Rahul Kohli), ruthless family publicist Camille (Kate Siegel), and hedonistic youngest child Prospero (Sauriyan Sapkota) — share their names with notable Poe characters. Two other key players, cruel Fortunato execs Mr. Longfellow (Robert Longstreet) and Rufus Griswold (Michael Trucco), are named after poets Poe had personal beef with. And Madeline's lifelong quest to develop an AI algorithm that would bring users "virtual immortality" echoes Poe's obsession with (and fear of) death.
In his most famous short stories and poems, Poe wrote of people being brought down by greed and paranoia, addiction and violence, sometimes a senseless need for revenge. The Usher family is beset with each of these maladies, though their chief desire is to secure a life of complete comfort, which they do by amassing a fortune built on the pain of others. Young Madeline (Willa Fitzgerald) and Roderick (Zach Gilford) are launched on their path of moral decay by Verna (Carla Gugino), a mysterious demon who has built a successful career out of entrapping human "clients" by catering to — and then punishing them for — their inherent selfishness.
The poison apples don't fall far from the tree, and one by one Roderick's adult children destroy themselves in the name of avarice and glory. The Ushers and those in their orbit succumb to agonizing fates featuring many of Poe's greatest hits: Madness, mania, paralysis, and of course, premature burial. Each of Roderick's offspring gets a showcase episode that culminates in a grimly creative set-piece death — which is kinda fun, but it also, unfortunately, takes the place of true character development.
Fewer kids (and fewer scenes devoted to characters quoting Poe's verse) would have allowed for more time spent establishing who the children were as people, making their downfalls more poetic. Instead, they are all various shades of "good riddance" awful. The series spends the most time with Frederick, dubbed "Froderick" by his scornful siblings who dismiss him as a joke and daddy's number one suck-up. Thomas is wonderfully entertaining as the jittery, hapless Usher heir whose creeping suspicions about his wife (Crystal Balint) lead him to exact horribly unjustified and macabre revenge.
The cast, many of them members of Flanagan's Netflix repertoire, is dependably strong. Trucco brings a sleazy menace to Rufus, an arrogant boor who underestimates how far Madeline and Roderick will go to usurp him. Mark Hamill infuses Arthur Pym, the family's ruthless and unflappable attorney/fixer, with unexpected empathy, and Gugino delivers many a masterful monologue as Verna, who excoriates the various victims in her smooth and silky whisper. (Alas, her showdown with Madeline, an impeccably frosty and formidable force in McConnell's hands, is far too brief.)
The strong performances help sustain Usher in its sloggier stretches, though I still maintain that all streaming series should decide how many episodes they'll need per season and then subtract at least one. Flanagan's latest may not be his best (I'll save that spot for Midnight Mass), but it did give me an actual nightmare, one in which I was keeping my brother's severed head in a cardboard box — very much against his will, I should add. Poe would almost certainly approve. Grade: B
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@wispstalk tagged me to share some lines from my posted pieces! plus some exclusive commentary. thanks ray and kudos for making it up the sisyphean hill of filling out yours entirely on your phone
tagging @zurin @ghoulsbeard @morihaus if you want :)
A line from your fic that makes you laugh
“Ravila,” says Tolfdir wearily, “when we cast a spell, we do not precede it with the words hold and my and drink.” [x]
plus the later "lettie, he's drinking my schnapps." lmao. i enjoy writing ravi the most when he's happily going along with something that makes him look silly
A line from your fic that makes you sad
Then he looks at the Dragonborn—whose name, he thinks with sudden shame, he hasn’t asked. She’s not looking at him. She’s staring out at the empty air, the white and whirling wind, with a shadow struggling in her face.
“I’d like to live a thousand years,” she admits.
Then she touches her scarred arm and smiles at him, sunlit and serene, like a statue of herself. [x]
ayo's got a lot on her mind :(
A line from your fic you’re proud of
The ground of Apocrypha, spongy and stinking of mold, is the mulch of a thousand libraries: rotting parchment, pages sodden and trodden to peat. The Dragonborn, her throat raw with the thu’um, squelches through it. She steps over the bloated carcass of a book. [x]
apocrypha's got to be just disgusting. slurping slurry of stolen knowledge-goop underfoot
A line from your fic you think could have been better
“You’ll like Solitude,” says the woman every pickpocket in Plankside calls Auntie. She’s stirring this and that into a steaming stovetop stew, pausing every so often to towel her brow with the hem of her apron. “And my brother. Though he’ll not long let you at your usual tricks, mark me.” [x]
"stovetop" has haunted me for years. what the hell was i talking about. the year is 189 and everyone's cooking over their hearthfire
A line from your fic that makes you want to punch a character
You could split your lip on Lenhardt Müller, whether you were careful or not.
had to go into my wips for this one...no one get excited about me cheating on tes with other video games because i don't think i'll finish this piece. it was going to be about else's post-credits affair with [PARCHMENT-SCRAPING NOISES]
A line from your fic that makes you go ‘aww’
“Don’t say it.” Aina frowns at him. “It’s you.”
The furrier grimaces at that—and his wife laughs, surprising him, the sound raspy and warm as the hearthfire crackling inside.
“You,” she says again, suddenly serious, and kneels to throw her cloak around his shoulders. Their noses touch. The lantern winks at their knees, mingling their shadows in the snow. “Always you, to me.” [x]
i've got to write more about these two
A line from your fic that’s full of symbolism
“You’ll not like it,” she says to the boy, because she’d better say something reassuring. He looks like he knows what a slice of apple means. She digs her claws—all she’s got—into the fruit. “Not with a sword. Not with a bow. Not with your teeth.” She wrenches the apple in half. It’s a mangled mess, now, bleeding juice all over her hands. “But it needs doing. Name like that—you’re a shepherd’s son, en’t you?”
Jorik, she notes, is turning greenish again. Alas. “Aye—”
The footsoldier, still busy with the apple, forestalls him with a claw. Then she holds out a dripping slice of fruit, scored all over, despite her best efforts, with oozy scars. [x]
all she's got :(
A line from your fic that contains an Easter egg
They rein their horses aside to let the cohort pass. A soldier near the head of the line—a Tojay standard-bearer, perhaps their age, with an open, clever face—casts a curious glance back at them as her fellows, fresh-faced and bright-mailed, nudge her in the opposite direction. [x]
surely we've never met that young footsoldier before
A line from your fic that’s shocking
“Well, now, cat,” he says, the thu’um rumbling like a rockslide in his voice. There’s grief and fire in his face. Almost gently, as if to ask the soldier for a dance, he walks to her across the darkening hall. “Do you think your sword will send me hence?”
The soldier shrinks from him.
Then, her eyes baleful as the moons, she bares a mouthful of red teeth.
“Not my sword,” she says, and leaps like fire to meet him. [x]
like any soldier shurri uses every weapon at her disposal during the war. something sad and complicated to be said about what her preferred nickname ("shiv") says about how she sees herself
A line from your fic you want to talk about more
“Is that his name?” asks the Archmage. “Quaranir. Quaranir. What’s that old Colovy song?” To Nerien’s dismay, he grins, lifts his chin like a primadonna, and starts singing in a high, frail tenor. “Ah, il tempo si ferma quando sono con te—”
Nerien tries not to look pained. “Archmage—”
“Il tempo si ferma, e penso, povero me—” [x]
"time stops when i'm with you"…i was and am happy that this joke passed muster with my italian followers. i don't speak the language well anymore but i'd like to get back in the swing of it; i have family in messina that i'd like to meet in-person someday
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Lewis Fic Recs: Lent & Easter
Stories of sacrifice, celebration, and Hathaway's complicated relationship with religion. And chocolate eggs, of course. As usual, you're welcome to add more stories to the list!
No Illusions by LadyKes
1,071 Words, Gen, Rated G, No Archive Warnings Apply
Lent requires that he give up something he actually likes, so James comes up with a creative solution. A lovely peek into James' mind and his working relationship with Lewis. The relief once Lent is over and things can go back to normal is palpable.
A Season of Sacrifice by Lindenharp
4,260 Words, Gen, Rated G, No Archive Warnings Apply
Part 5 of a longer wingfic series, and it's probably best to read the earlier works first. James gives up flying for Lent and Robbie disapproves. A thoughtful exploration of spirituality, personal agency, and sacrifice.
Catholic Guilt by wendymr
100 Words, James/Robbie, Rated G, No Archive Warnings Apply
Established Relationship. It's Lent and James finds himself backing out of their plans together. A short drabble that says a lot between the lines, though it may not be what you first think—and which I won't spoil by giving away too much.
Hathaway's Easter Egg Hunt by Small_Hobbit
877 Words, James & Robbie/Laura, Rated G, No Archive Warnings Apply
On Easter, Robbie and Laura come up with a creative way to get James to take a break. A sweet little fic. James' joy is contagious, and it's a clever way for Robbie and Laura to show they care without scaring him off.
Treats by Somniare
1,420 Words, James/Robbie, Rated M, No Archive Warnings Apply
Established relationship. Food porn. Laura gifts Robbie and James some Easter sweets: four milk chocolate eggs with a milky mousse centre. “Peel. Bite. Spoon." Things escalate rather satisfactorily for the couple from there.
Fish Pie by Fabrisse
1,405 Words, James/Robbie, Rated T, No Archive Warnings Apply
Established Relationship. While they do the washing up, James tells Robbie the story of why he left the seminary. This does a great job expanding on James' backstory and complicated relationship with religion—especially the rule of poverty and fasting—and explains the frivolity of his curlicued fish pie.
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So, about 消失的她//Lost In The Stars -
I have seen this film three times total - in the cinema (for science) - and it has been a while and I have some thoughts. These aren’t a play by play of the film though.
He Fei man oh man oh man - look at this - I feel it would be easier if I wasn’t a xiaolongbao
The scuba pics of Long Ge as WuXie Im threw me off like what Easter eggs are these. The portrait his wife drew him was a promo photo of WuXie xD lord help me.
Tuxedo beach scene on the big screen legit gave me chills it wasn’t hot it was the opposite of hot- yet I’m addicted to that scene? Like I want to fan vid edit it with some sort of song like Psycho by Red Velvet. I made a playlist for He Fei cuz man he’s a lot. Vampire by Olivia Rodrigo is there cuz lyrics. But anyways…
Without knowing I felt for He Fei, like his twitching and outbursts and episodes I figured okay…he need help. He needs lots of help.
But as soon as I found out he was a gambler, had a gambling addiction, it was game over. I was 80% done with him, because he’s definitely responsible for this somehow. I have seen what gambling addiction does from family members and it isn’t pretty.
Casino He Fei made me super uncomfortable - because I kept thinking he is going to destroy himself.
I felt like I had been played by him & the trailers because I felt sorry for him for months during the build up to this I was all “aw poor He Fei”. I needed a shower.
Just personally I found the film empowering? Because NiNi & Janice Man’s characters were so brave and intelligent in a way that was clever and super cool. I was cheering for them.
The hospital scene and Zhu Yilong speaking English being all “I’m okay, I’m okay,” and taking deep breathes - I was like “Aw baby you’re doing really well, I’m sorry this is happening to you.”
(I knew he was gonna be bald for this film during their filming thanks to youku paparazzi leaking pics on weibo).
I found the head shaving scene too much the first time because Zhu Yilong is just that good - the tears? Sir is incredible - I don’t think he even planned it. It is still intense.
Then comes the revelation - Chen Mai (NiNi) in her nurse’s disguise - getting the truth out of him in the best scene. My favorite scenes in this film are when Chen Mai and He Fei are arguing or having intense conversations because the way they bounce off each other. It’s so entertaining like get out the popcorn 🍿 I’m hear for the back and forth.
But the hospital scene is so intense when she has grabbed him by the collar, literally screaming at him “tell me where she is” as the clock is running down and finally he says the lighthouse. She has tears in her eyes at this point and He Fei is like “I left her under the lighthouse” (paraphrasing). He knew where his wife was the entire time.
The entire honeymoon was his plan to end his wife, why? She’s a billionaire- he’s a gambler - he thought she was gonna divorce him after he broke his promise of “never gambling again” and ended up 1) being 10 million rmb in debt 2) throwing a Chen YiMing worthy tantrum on being cut off from the company bank account in the deleted scenes, 3) her refusing to bail him out again. If he doesn’t pay the debts he’s gonna die - so he thinks she doesn’t care I’ll just stage her disappearance by killing her and then inherit everything.
And he had the audacity to say “she left me no choice - what happened to fulfilling marriage vows - for richer for poorer… she didn’t love me - she just cared about her money. Now if she just gave me 10 million rmb and been a good wifey we’d be cool.”
The only time I have been this furious at a Zhu Yilong character was Chen YiMing and I’ve seen most of his filmography. Although his Chi Rui role comes close but he was literally the worst and did the most horrible thing ( you can’t even guess what he did because it was that bad)- he comes close to He Fei. But Chi Rui got a nice happy ending (undeserved but ya know Chinese soap operas). He has played a con man years and years ago but redeemed himself by coming clean …his character has a bad ending too because obviously.
YeZun would look at He Fei and be like “you sir are trash…” and YeZun is also bad, but bruh.
So He Fei finds out one of the people at his diving school is rich, young and single - he wants a “sugar mama to fund his addiction” and to give him a nice life - so basically he cons his way into her life, into her heart, with Van Gogh and his damn cute face and mannerisms. But his eyes - there is an icy coldness and cruelty in them - it’s haunting tbh.
And he has a great life - she paid off his debts the first time which I was like “girl, if you gonna do that and give him your freaking credit card then you better send his cute assets to rehab abroad.” But nope - he swears in writing to quit gambling - so he works for her company, he enjoys a rich life of luxury, but he can’t stop gambling he’s an addict and he gets into big big trouble. And his wife is done with him.
I find it shocking that in the divorce papers he finds whilst stealing money (e.e while she was sleeping) he didn’t read the part where she would pay him 2 million rmb allowance after their divorce like she loved his dumb assets so much she would do that.
And so He Fei is like “welp I better do the worst thing ever”. So he sets it up - a one year anniversary honeymoon trip to fulfill the promise he made her when they met “see a starry night under the sea” and he will get all her money. Gross, He Fei, you’re so beautiful and ugly at the same time sir.
He promises her this cute trip over a home cooked meal and a candle lit dinner.
She was gonna tell him something over dinner but decides to wait until they’re on honeymoon. I kept thinking if she had told him beforehand none of this would have happened - but he already planned it out - how was the knowledge of her big surprise gonna change anything. Other than welp she won’t leave me now?
Back to the hospital scene and Chen Mai’s gone, He Fei is now very bald and alone in his pajamas - he breaks free, escapes and finds out he wasn’t the only one putting on a show.
This next revelation of Chen Mai being Shen Man - Li MuZi’s bestie from school - setting it all up with her theater trope to bamboozle He Fei into such a position where he was confess. Because she knew something was sus.
Sidenote Shen Man’s best director award looking like the palm d’or from Cannes …ahh could have been for this movie (or Only The River Flows but nvm)
And he learns it all, laughs and then his face is serious, and goes after NiNi and co, but they are standing there like 1000% done with him. I was done with him.
The police come, and his wife was in a cage under the sea. The scene is so sad - but I’m still furious at He Fei - but his poor wife just gave up and took off her oxygen mask and enjoyed the starry night under the sea. And we see what He Fei does - the whole lot - he locks her in, he sees her use the signals he taught her, we sees her reach out to him and twice, he looks back at her twice, and twice he swims away. And I’m like “no He Fei, what the fudge how can you swim away.” And in her one last attempt she tries to show him something but he’s swimming away. No matter how many times I see that scene it hurts.
But the surprises aren’t over yet. Oh no.
We cut to prison - He Fei laughing in jail when Shen Man asks if he regrets anything and he was like “yeah so I’m just pissed I didn’t find out about you earlier so I could have got you, too hahahahaha.” And I thought “ooh Long Ge got to be like the Joker like he always dreamed oh yay! Also boo you He Fei. Are you pretending to be crazy now? You’re just the worst.”
Shen Man is just broken at this point and she shows a photo she found with his wife under the sea. And oh it is just the Cherry on top of this nightmare sundae.
The scene cuts to Shen Man (NiNi) walking away, and such. I held it together until the revelation that He Fei didn’t just lock his wife in a cage under the sea with a bunch of toxic jellyfish to end her for her money.
But she was also pregnant with their child and we find out when He Fei does looking at the sonogram photo of it and I thought “oh my God He Fei!!.”
I lost it I was crying so hard - the ost (Cage) didn’t help - He Fei crying didn’t help because it’s ZYL’s dumb face crying - acting so well. I couldn’t even be angry anymore I was simply broken.
The end credits written saying He Fei met his end as punishment - I knew it was gonna happened but it felt like he got off too easily. Though my brother said “the best way to end him is to lock him in a cage under the sea with a bunch of jellyfish cuz it’s only fair.”
Yeah, but then we wondered what if he knew she was pregnant but judging by his reaction I really don’t think he did. Because it was rough. There is an end credits scenes which I was like ??? Basically, He Fei wakes up on the beach, he takes a photo of his wife and then runs into Janice Man’s Jane and Officer Zheng asking them to take a photo of him and his wife just having fun on the beach, and the scene ends with them holding hands, being cute on the beach. I felt so weirded out like no - commit to the nightmare don’t give me cute He Fei on the beach. 🤣
Zhu Yilong’s acting is sensational, like he was so good - I was and still am super proud. NiNi was excellent, Janice Man was great - everyone was so good.
Back in China some of the reviewers mentioned they couldn’t look at ZYL after seeing this film, cuz he made them so angry, but my brain was like He Fei looks nothing like Zhu Yilong. I have decided - the man is a chameleon. He Fei is He Fei and Zhu Yilong is Zhu Yilong - as he says.
And I needed to see him being just himself at the roadshows and stuff.
This film incredible - it’s a heartbreaking story - but brilliantly acted, directed.
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