#He yells at all of his bakers equally | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

justrainandcoffee · 3 months

Text

Deal (Tommy Shelby vs. oc!Solomons) + (Alfie Solomons x fem!oc) Part 1

“You're a lamb entering the territory of a hungry wolf.”

Masterlist

Summary: Why is Thomas Shelby in front of Mrs. Solomons? Just business. Tommy just needs information. But first he needs to deal with Rose Solomons who, unlike her husband, has no sympathy for the man sitting in her office. And yet, they know how to make a deal. "A soul for a soul, Mr. Shelby."

Warnings: Mentions of dead, killing. Allusions to sex. Mentions of physical violence. Misogyny.

Words: 4.5k. || Special thanks to @look-at-the-soul who helped me today 🙃♥️.

1924.

Yesterday

"The bastard is a fookin' ghost!" yelled Arthur.

The Garrison was empty except for those members of the Peaky Blinders, allowed to be there. There was a person that they couldn't find. An Irishman called Nicholas Baker, possible member of the IRA. Last time they saw him, it was he when he shot a blinder and left him to die in the streets. He escaped before Arthur or anyone else could catch him.

Since then, the brothers and the rest of the gang were looking for him no succeed. Not just because he killed a man they know, but also because they were sure he was a spy.

"Maybe he's dead," suggested Isaiah.

"No. He's alive and living in London." This time, Tommy Shelby's voice could be heard all over the place. "And Elias is not the only person he killed. And his real name is Sean Patrick O'Finn."

Tommy dropped a newspaper in front of his brother and Arthur read it out loud.

"His own sister! He fookin' killed his sister!"

"And tried to killed his wife as well, according to the neighbours. She escaped." Tommy sat in his usual place as he lit up a cigarette and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He looked at Arthur and the rest of his men.

"We have nothing, then! He can be in middle of fookin' Russia by now." Arthur was frustrated as usual.

"I don't think so. I think he's still there in London, and as we know, police is useless. London is a big city and they don't care. People are killed every day" Tommy lit another cigarette "but I'm going to find him. And I'm going to put a bullet in his head, too."

"You don't know where to start, Tommy!" Arthur furrowed brow and look at his brother.

"Yes, I do know where to start. I need to talk to his wife."

"But do you know where this woman is, Tom?"

"Yes."

The Solomons residence in London was quiet. Rose was working and Alfie just arrived there over an hour ago. He was about to rest his back in bed when their maid announced that he had a call.

"It's Mr. Shelby," the woman said. She saw him do a grimace, but he said nothing to her.

"Thanks, Doris."

Alfie entered his office and closed the door behind before picking up the phone. Every time Tommy called it meant problems, usually for him. But this time what Tommy said, took him by surprise.

"Are ya mad?"

"I just need her this time, Alfie."

"She will kill ya, mate."

"No, she won't. Your wife isn't a killer."

"Maybe. But the women around her are. Honestly, Tom, they're a pack of fuckin' bloody wolves claiming for men flesh. You're a little lamb entering the territory of a hungry wolf. Rosie is the leader of that pack, if she gives the order next time I'll see ya it'll be in your own fuckin' funeral... If I find your body." On the other side of the line, Tommy opened a drawer and picked up some papers and started to take some notes. Sometimes Alfie exaggerated, especially if he was talking about his wife. As far as Tommy knew, Rose Solomons just worked helping women in need and in the streets fighting for equal rights. The few times he saw her in Alfie's place she didn't seem to be a menace to anyone.

"They're just women, eh?"

"My Rosie isn't just a woman, Tommy. She's me wife." Alfie sighed "Rosie will decorate the fuckin' Christmas tree they put on her workplace with your balls."

"I'll take a risk, then. Just wanted to inform you."

"Fine. But I'm not going to tell her yet. I prefer she knows it on her own… good luck then, Tom."

1924.

Today. London.

It's only 7am and the Solomons were making love for the second time in the morning. Rose didn't know what her husband was thinking, or feeling, that he had waking up so passionated but she wasn't complaining either.

"Alfie… I can't… god…" her back arched and her toes curled once last time until she fell on the mattress, completely satisfied. She could feel Alfie finish as well.

The man stayed on top of her few minutes more, catching his breath, before rolling on his back, laying next to her. Alfie opened his arms and invited her to be against his chest.

"Are you fine?" she asked kissing his neck.

"Feelin' like a God now, luv. Why do ya ask? You're talking like we never fuck like this before."

"I ask, because I know that sometimes you use sex to channel your frustrations and I just want to know you're fine."

"I'm perfect, Rosie. Gimme some time and we can repeat it."

She laughed. "No way you still have energy, Al. I can't, I've to work. Tonight, maybe."

In response, Alfie kissed her. That same night, probably she wants to kill him. He had talked to Tommy the day before and she didn't know. Alfie was just trying his best to calm her before the storm. Although spending time with her, it was always beautiful. The kiss continued until she pulled apart slowly. He caressed her cheek. Rose knew that Alfie definitely was hiding something from her, but she didn't know what. After one last brief kiss, she sat down in bed and then walked to the bathroom to take a shower.

Alfie stayed in bed, thinking about his friend going to his wife's place. In all those years, over a decade since it was founded, he visited her school just twice. Once when it was inaugurated, when they met each other again, and the other one after the war. They had an implicit deal: "You don't interfere with my business and I don't interfere with yours" even if they asked each other for some advice, suggestions or help. He was a bit worried about her, even when he knew that Tommy wasn't going to hurt her.

When Rose went out the bathroom, she found him sitting in bed, stretching his back, ready to have breakfast. She approached him and played gently with his hair.

"Thought you're going to join the shower."

Alfie put his hands on her hips and pushed her down on his knees. She was wrapped with a towel and when Alfie kissed her shoulder, he smelled the fresh soap on her skin.

"Ya didn't invited me."

"Since when you need invitation?" she chuckled and put her arms around him. Her hands were stroking the back of his neck. Rose was staring at him, "are you sure you're fine?"

"I am, Rosie."

"Okay," she didn't believe him, but she wasn't going to pressure him either. Instead, she kissed him and he reciprocate immediately. Her towel fell on the floor and she felt him ready to be with her once more.

Never two without three.

Arrow house

By the dawn of the next day, every Shelby knew where the leader was going. If they had any opinion about it, they didn't share it. A car was parked outside Arrow House with three men in it.

"I'm going now," announced Tommy. His black coat was over a chair and he took it. "Johnny Dogs and the Smiths are coming with me."

Arthur chuckled. "Johnny Dogs? And the Smith brothers? Ain't too much, Tom? Four men to visit just a bunch of pussies and tits? They're just chicks."

"Not according to Alfie."

"According to fookin' Alfie! The fookin' Alfie! Ya believe him?"

"Yes. Alfie will never allow me to be near his wife, if he didn't know now that she's safe. I know that. And if she's safe that means she's surrounded by an army."

"Are ya planning to kill them?"

"I don't kill women, Arthur. And I don't want problems with Alfie. It's just in case."

"So take me with ya!"

"Arthur, no offense but you don't know how to deal with a Solomons. Stay here and take care of the business, eh? I'll be back at night, probably or tomorrow."

"Tom! Tommy!" the eldest brother yelled but the other man already reached the door.

"Goodbye, Arthur. Tell Pol, that I left her a letter under the flowerpot."

Pebblebrock was Rose Solomons' former manor and prison hell at the same time. Now it was a beautiful school for girls and at the same time it served as a roof for some women who had run from their abusive homes.

As the owner, she was the one in charge even when she had several women in which she trusted working with her side by side. But the final decision on everything was always hers.

Alfie, and Tommy too, were right. The place and Rose, were surrounded by women specifically trained to kill. It wasn't uncommon for men to try to reach those who they already hurt. The rules were crystal clear MEN ARE NOT ALLOWED IN PEBBLEBROCK. The ones who didn't understand the warning were now resting eternally in a cemetery.

Men were only allowed if they were doctors or priests. The institution had nurses and two nuns who volunteered to help there. But sometimes a doctor was required, same with priests. Any other men should call for an appointment, only under that circumstances their entrance were allowed.

"Look at this fucking place."

From the road, Tommy, Johnny Dogs and the Smith brothers were watching the entire property. The gardens extended beyond their sight.

"Full of pussies, it's my fucking paradise. An all-you-can-eat-fucking restaurant" commented Gregory Smith. Except Tommy, the rest of them laughed.

Rose heard the crows. That was never a good signal.

"Now who?" she thought for herself. A lot of names crossed her mind, but none of them was the right answer.

Five minutes later a knock on her office's door brought the answer.

"Who?" she asked not believing her ears.

"Mr. Thomas Shelby, Mrs. Solomons" repeated the woman in front of her. "He says he needs you."

"The Thomas Shelby?"

But unaware of who he was the other woman didn't respond.

"Yeah, well. Tell him I'm coming."

"There are three other men with him, Mrs. Solomons."

Of course.

The day was beautiful. Cloudless sky and almost no wind. It'd be perfect if not for Tommy Shelby in her property.

"Didn't you read the sign?" she said greeting them "men are not allowed here."

"Good morning, Mrs. Solomons," said Tommy with deep voice.

"It is, Tommy. It is."

It always was intrigued him that a man like Alfie could be so devoted to a woman who barely reached his shoulders. His Rosie. Alfie Solomons could start a war against the king and the Pope if something happened to that woman.

Gregory Smith had another idea.

"We don't follow rules, sweetheart. We're the peaky fucking blinders."

"The Peaky who?" Rose looked at the man "Who the fuck are you?"

"The audacity of this bitch. It's a Solomons, eh?"

"Gregory…" warned Tommy.

"Yeah. I'm a Solomons. Proud of it. But I'm quite dumb, Gregory. So I need your help, I only know how to count to two. Like, one, two… what's next?"

"Three."

BANG.

A woman stading behind Rose was holding a gun.

The bullet impacted his head. The man was already dead when his body collapsed on the ground. Rose just looked her pocket watch and then clicked her tongue.

"Men are not allowed here," she repeated. "You understand the warnings now or you what to be the next?"

Tommy looked at the dead body. The blonde woman behind Rose was staring at him and Tommy knew that she wasn't joking. One more step and it couldn't be any difference between a Gruyère cheese and him.

Tommy sent Johnny Dogs and the remaining man again to the car. He also gave his gun to his friend.

"Ya sure, Tom?"

"Just go, Johnny."

When Tommy turned around again, he saw the woman extending her arm, she moved her hand "gimme the fucking cap."

Again, Tommy did what she said. She gestured him to follow her.

The interior of her office was elegantly decorated. An expensive rug on the floor matched the wallpaper and the mahogany desk. Lots of books were perfectly ordered on the bookshelves. Rose Solomons invited him to take seat on one of her velvety armchairs. Tommy followed her with his eyes. Now his cap was over the head of a marble bust representing Aphrodite, just behind her, looking at him. The woman sat behind her desk and put her hands under her chin.

"We have a beautiful garden here. A greenhouse full of exotic flowers and plants. Was your man married? I'd like to send the widow some flowers."

"He wasn't."

"Better, then."

Her brown eyes never leave his blue ones and same as Alfie, he felt she was trying to anticipate his movements. But Tommy didn't express any emotion.

"So? What the hell is doing Thomas Michael Shelby here? My husband isn't here."

"Not looking for Alfie."

"That's fucking new considering the mutual obsession you have with each other."

Tommy curved his lips, barely smiling. "I'm here purely for business, Mrs. Solomons."

"I'm not the kind of person you do business with."

"You are."

Both of them remained in silence for several seconds. Probably she was unaware of it, but Tommy noticed some mannerisms in her that he had witnessed in Alfie before. She was thinking while playing with her fingers. Impossible to say who copied who.

"What kind of business? Illegality has no place here," she finally said.

"I need to know where a certain man is."

Before she could say something Tommy saw the door opening and a beautiful woman in her mid-forties, entered Mrs. Solomons' office. She greeted him with a movement of her head and then started to talk to Rose in French but she stopped her almost immediately.

"This isn't going to work now, Geraldine. The man knows french," she said pointing to him "same as Alfie he fought in France during years. Tell Edith to come. She speaks Hebrew."

Geraldine nodded before leaving again.

"You do that often? Speaking other language in front of strangers?" Tommy settled in the armchair.

"Don't you do the same? I'm sure that speaking Romani is very useful if you want to express something to a friend or relative but you don't want the other to know what are you saying. Don't judge me, Mr. Shelby."

Edith, Tommy asummed it was her, was barely in her 20s, probably she was still a teen. Young and with a cheerful face, the girl approached Mrs. Solomons and both of them started to talk in Hebrew, a language he couldn't understand. For a moment, Rose looked at him sideways.

"Thanks, Edith" she said and the girl left without looking at Tommy. "One of your men tried to sneak in my school. Or they're fucking dumbs or they're really ready to visit God."

"Fucking hell…" Tommy rolled his eyes before breathing deeply. He was sure it wasn't Johnny Dogs but the other Smith. "Listen, Mrs. Solomons, I didn't give the order. I didn't know."

"I know, he acted by his own. Good news is he's alive. Bad news is my girls are taking care of him. It depends on you what I'm going to do with him. Alfie knew you were coming, didn't he?"

"I called him yesterday."

Rose sighed "Yes, of course he knew. Of course he fucking knew," his actions that morning now it made sense to her. Not because it wasn't unsual for them to have sex in the morning, but because there was something in his eyes that his mouth wasn't saying. And after all those years together, Rose knew him very well. "Anyway… what do you want do with your man, Mr. Shelby?"

"Can I smoke?"

"If you go next to the window and put your hand with the cigarette out, I don't have any problem. But I don't want smoke here."

She saw how he stood up and walked towards the window. That one in particular faced one of the gardens where the rosebushes were. In spring and summer, the sweet smell of roses invaded her office and it was something that she really liked.

When that morning Arthur asked him why he took three men with him just to visiting a school and women's residence, Tommy was exploring his chances. Better Gregory Smith than him. He trusted Johnny Dogs, he was a loyal, obedient man. But the Smiths…

"Kill him if you want," Tommy finally said "if my man can't follow my orders, then he should face the consequences. This is your place after all, Mrs. Solomons."

"Edith told me he was screaming that he wanted to avenge his brother."

"Yes. The one you kill it was his brother." Tommy glanced at her. A ghost of a smile was on his face.

"I never killed anyone, Mr. Shelby."

"You don't need to hold a gun and shoot to be a murderer. Most of the murderers just give the order behind their desks."

"Well, he'd be alive if he hadn't been an asshole. It's all about the rules, Mr. Shelby. The sign is there for a reason and if you ask me, you don't seem very concerned about your man's death."

"Rules, eh? Something tells me you're not very fond to follow them, either, Mrs. Solomons. How was the prison?" Tommy blew another puff of smoke out the window, but kept looking at her.

"Pretty cold. Full of cooties and rats. I named one in your honour, that's a tradition that we the Solomons have. Name a goat, name a rat… How's Arfah, by the way? Alfie misses him."

"Thanks for the honour, Mrs. Solomons. Arthur wanted to come. I told him he doesn't know how to deal with a Solomons."

"Oh," she grinned. "And you do?"

"I'm pretty confident about it. It worked in the past."

"I have no doubts about it. But I'm not my husband, Mr. Shelby. I don't fall for a pair of blue eyes and a chiseled face and most of all, I don't trust men."

Tommy threw the remaining of his cigarette in a basket that was there and walked again to the seat in front of her. He crossed his legs and rested his hands over his stomach.

"Do you want to fuck me, Mrs. Solomons?"

"Yes. Just bring me a bottle of cyanide to accompany the moment. And then I want to hug a black mamba. Your place or mine?"

Tommy chuckled. "Wherever you prefer, sweetheart."

Far away from being intimidated by the confidence he was exuding, Rose just scratched her chin.

"Alfie accepted? I mean, if this is the way you deal with a Solomons..."

"Never asked."

"Oh, you should have. The answer maybe could suprise you. But, let me tell you something, Tommy. Can I call you Tommy?" he nodded. Rose left her armchair and approached the man. He followed her with his eyes. Her face was now in front of his, their noses were touching. Both pair of eyes were staring at each other. Tommy felt her breath on his skin "I know who you are, Tommy. Reputation precedes you. I know how you do business with women. But here's the thing: I'm not them. And yes, I'm a Solomons, yes Alfie and I we have lot of similarities. But I'm not Alfie. I'm not interesting in you as a man and if your cock is the only thing you have to offer me, you're wasting your time here… sweetheart." Rose inhaled deeply "God! I never killed anyone, but I swear the devil keep tempting me. How about having your head as a trophy hunting hanging on this office? But…" Rose moved her head back again "as I said, I'm not a murderer."

"Alfie is a lucky man, Mrs. Solomons," Tommy said once she returned to her seat behind the desk.

"Is he?" She tilted her head.

"Believe me." Tommy straighted on his armchair "and I'm sure If something happens to him, I'm sure you're going to heard the devil that keeps telling you to kill someone."

"Be sure of that. If anything happens to my Alfie, the only one who can stop me is Alfie himself. I hope nothing happens to him, EVER. You know about it, don't you?. Your late wife, we knew what happened. I can't imagine the pain."

"No, you can't imagine. But I'm getting over it." Tommy cleared his throat "Mrs. Solomons, I need information."

"In exchange of…"

"Mutual respect."

Rose snorted. "Yes, sure. Alfie could be delighted when I tell him. Information means business, Mr. Shelby. And whiskey is for business, innit?"

She opened a cabinet in her desk and put a bottle of whiskey with the Solomons logo on it. Behind her, were two glasses that she grabbed. A rose was engraved on them.

"I didn't know you drink," he said.

"Only in very few occasions. I prefer just tea for the rest of the day. So? You tell me."

Tommy drank a sip of whiskey before talking again. In his mind the image of Elias dead on the streets of Small Heath appeared again. Contrary to Gregory Smith, Elias was a good man. Her widow was pregnant and a payroll wasn't enough for the woman to compensate her for her husband's death. Yet, it was the only thing that Tommy could do.

"I'm looking for Mrs. Baker."

"There are several, Tommy. It's a very common name. Any details?

"It's an Irishwoman. I don't know her appearance but her husband killed her sister-in-law. It means his own sister."

"Sonia," mumbled her, "but the last name isn't Baker. It's O'Finn. Although she said that prefers her own surname. I'm going to keep that information to me until you tell me what the hell is going on."

From the murdered committed in Birmingham to the one in London's underground. Tommy told her about his suspicions that O'Finn was a member of the IRA and how he, Tommy, was now a target of them. Again.

"If that's true," she replied "then no matter what, your head already had a price and it's not going to be me the one hanging it on my office, but them. Nowadays it's very easy to send a message to the other side of the map. A telegram or a phone call… I don't understand why do you want to talk to this woman if he already communicated with his people."

"Because I don't think he did that. He's hiding. He's a fucking rat."

"Ok. Well, there's a lot of problems first. Mrs. O'Finn, she's not in conditions to talk. Even if she can, you're not allowed to be near her and this is not negotiable. These women are under my wing. Not you, not fucking Churchill can be near them. I don't give a fuck if you bring an order from the fucking president of I-don't-know-where. Understood? I have women specialized in talk to women with the kind of trauma that Sonia has, so, think about twice before suggesting another way to do this."

"The less people know about it, the better, Rose."

She pointed to the door, silently. Tommy sighed. "Fine. But I prefer that you can be present. And me too. Or at least I want to hear everything by myself."

"Agree. We have a place we can use. I need to tell you, or better say, reminder you that Sonia is highly traumatized. Yes, she's alive but the price she paid…" Rose stood up again but this time she walked to one of her bookshelves and picked up a carpet, although to do it she had to climb a ladder. "Tommy, I don't have this rule of "men aren't allowed" just because I'm fucking misandristic bitch, I'm not. I believe in equal rights. I fight for equality. I have that sign because people here, women, kids… are afraid of your kind. I have a register for every single woman that lived here since 1911 when I inaugurated this place. Open the folder."

Tommy obeyed and his first reaction was exactly what Rose hoped to get "Shit…"

The first page was the document of a woman who lived there in 1914 before volunteering as nurse in France, Rose never saw her again. Her name was Rita Brown, 20 years old. She escaped from her house because her father was an abuser. He ended up cutting her face marking a cross on her.

"I don't allow men, because we don't know what kind of bastard will cross that gate. Your man, that Gregory, he's not the first. Dozens before him, I'm genuinely surprised that if you talked to Alfie yesterday he didn't mention my women."

"He did."

"So you knew."

Tommy nodded and Rose studying his face laughed . Suddenly she understood. "You bring this bastard on purpose! You fucking did! You wanted him dead. Fucking hell, Tommy. I heard things a lot of things about you and I'm still impressed. The brother, too? You wanted me to rid off the other guy, too?"

"Why not?"

"Fine. I don't give a shit. One less." She returned to her seat and rang a bell. The same young girl called Edith appeared. Both of them talked in Hebrew again and Edith went out again once they finished. "We have an agreement, it seems. Now my payment."

Tommy opened his coat and placed two payrolls on her desk.

"I appreciate the effort," she said no looking at the money. "But I'm not interested it in cash, although if you don't want it. I can use it to buy something for the school like a new piano for the girls and some violins. A donation."

"I don't want it," he confirmed "then what's your price, Mrs. Solomons?"

"A soul for a soul, Mr. Shelby. I want a man dead."

"Who?"

"Churchill's right hand man."

Next part.

...so? 👀

#alfie solomons #tommy shelby #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons x ofc #peaky blinders #tom hardy #peaky blinders x oc #alfie x rose #Thomas Shelby #cillian Murphy

104 notes · View notes

novelcain · 1 year

Note

So about mafia! SWK, I seriously cannot get it out of my mind that whilst the golden cudgel is an accessory, Wukong still uses it when shit gets real and he gets real pissed. Like,,, sure it's modern times and he uses guns since killing with them is quick, easy, and mostly clean,,,, but there are certain occasions that need a point to be made.

So imagine, Wukong falling for florist/baker! reader and they're already courting,,, somehow that information is leaked. A rival mafia, maybe one that's small enough to be disregarded/fly under his radar, or maybe one that's in alliance with him but hates his guts,, kidnaps the reader and holds her hostage to gain leverage against him.

Now, here's a reason why Sun Wukong isn't just the Monkey King, but also the king of the entire underground crime scene.

But maybe people have forgotten that fact and this little rule he has, it's been a couple centuries after all.

You don't mess with him.

And if you do, well, you're gonna wish he used his guns instead.

BFCAODBEQBELNQ SHUT UP! SHUT UP! EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP! <-me yelling at the voices in my head I LOVE LITERALLY EVERY SECOND OF THIS

I absolutely LOVE violently protective bitches so this really made my brain go brrrr

CW for descriptions of violence, gore, and torture below!!

I just imagine him learning that the little baker he's been smitten with has been kidnapped by a small up and coming gang with dreams of toppling the Great Sage Equal to Heaven and taking the place of his gang. And that just won't fucking do.

It would seem that in the past hundred years that he's been mostly under the radar people have become rather bold. They seem to think that he's gone soft. That he's become weak. Well, he supposed they needed a little... reminder of just who the fuck he is.

"P—" sob "P-Please! Just l-let us go! Y-You'll never hear from us again. I swear!"

The ginger monkey demon raised a single gloved claw and the men and women beating the three demon leaders stopped and took a few steps back to allow the Dragonhead room to speak.

"Ooooohoho, you've really done it now~," Macaque chuckled from his spot in the corner without looking up from the game on his phone.

There was a moment of silence across the room as Wukong gently ran his ungloved fingers through your hair while you were passed out in his lap. By the time his gang had gotten there, you had been beaten to unconsciousness. Luckily, the damage wasn't too bad but you'd certainly have a few cuts and bruises—along with a nasty black eye—for a couple weeks.

"Humans are so... fragile," the Monkey King spoke in a soft voice while not taking his golden eyes off of your limp form for even a second. "I learned this a long long time ago. And because of this knowledge, I'm careful about which buttons to push and how hard to push them. Because like I said. Humans are very fragile. And if you push them too hard or too fast... they break."

Wukong carefully shifted so he could lift you bridal style without jostling you before carefully handing you to his adoptive son, MK. The young man immediately took you and left the room to get you somewhere safe to be healed.

The Great Sage reached into his pocket to put his other glove back on and watched as his heir left with you in tow before turning his attention back to the morons who dared cross him.

"But you wanna know something else I learned a long time ago?"

He approached the three demons. Looking down his nose at them while removing the cudgel from his earing.

"Everyone's fragile when compared to me."

With that being said, his staff grew to its normal length and slammed down onto the leg of the leader's righthand man, completely severing it at the knee. The weasel demon shrieked in agony as his companions looked on in horror.

Wukong then effortlessly lifted his staff and struck the demon in the head, instantly ending its misery. The other two flinched back as much as their current injuries would allow and the Dragonhead could see them both trying to grasp the concept that their friend was simply dead now.

The Monkey King flicked his staff to dispose of the some of the blood marring its surface and watched with malevolence as it splattered across the faces of the remaining two leaders.

Wukong then turned his attention to the Dragonhead of the small gang and merely lifted the cudgel and let it drop onto his skull, cutting off his scream and nearly splitting him in two down the middle.

The last executive was now openly ugly sobbing at the viscera of his fallen friends and Wukong just propped himself onto his staff and watched until the man calmed down enough for him to speak.

"Now," the Great Sage paused as he slowly shifted down into a crouch like a predator preparing to pounce on its prey, "You're probably wondering why you're the last one left."

Wukong pressed his cheek to the side of his staff as though this were a normal conversation as he waited for the other to quit sniveling and respond and once the tiger demon finally could he asked, "B-Because you're going to let me g-go?"

Wukong threw his head back as he let out a loud barking laugh. "Wow. You guys really didn't know who you were fucking with did you?" He menacingly leaned closer and the others in the room maliciously giggled at ignorance of the executive. "Allow me to enlighten you."

The monkey fiend flicked his wrist once more but this time to balance his staff on a single claw as though the mighty pillar weighed nothing more to him than a pencil.

"I am the Monkey King."

He spun the staff.

"I am the Great Sage Equal to Heaven."

He spun the staff again.

"I am THE Sun Wukong."

He let the staff fall into the palm of his leather clad hand.

"And I don't. Leave. Witnesses. I leave bodies."

The tiger demon whimpered as Wukong casually pointed the golden end of the cudgel at his chest and there was a tense moment of silence between them before Wukong pulled the staff back to him so he could lean on it once more as if nothing had happened.

"Guess again."

"I-I don't know! I swear I d-don't! H-He was the head of our gang, n-not me!" He nodded to the now deceased lion demon. "It was his decision to go after your girl!"

Wukong sighed and ran his free hand down his face. "You think I didn't know that? Ugh!" He sighed once more. "What did I expect from someone stupid enough to try and take me down," he asked himself before returning his focus to the tiger demon. "Fine. I'll make it easier for you and ask you one last question... Whose idea was it to go after my girl?"

The tiger demon's eye's widened as Wukong's golden one's narrowed. "N—" he gulped "No. You're... mistaken."

"Oh, really!?" A six eared grinning shadow poked out of the wall beside his head, peering down at the tiger in challenge.

"I—. I—."

"You—! You—!" Macaque mocked the shivering gangster. "You should just shut your mouth if you're gonna lie. I hear everything~."

Macaque's shadow then sunk back into the wall with a laugh and he stepped out back where had been previously, except this time without his phone, so he could watch the show that was about to unfold.

Wukong hummed in false contemplation before he once more held the staff over the tiger, but this time the tip of the iron rod hovered over the demon's leg. Right over the center of his thigh.

"Ya know... I understand that my stories aren't as widespread as they used to be. But—" he paused to chuckle "you'd think that if someone were to try coming after me! Then they'd at least read a fucking book, so they could grasp the kind of power I have at my disposal. For example!" The monkey tossed the staff a few feet in the air and letting it spin a couple times before flawlessly catching it just before it made contact with the tiger's leg, making the fiend flinch. "Did you know that this staff of mine roughly weighs a little over eight tons? Do you have any idea the kind of damage something like this would do from simply falling on you?"

He glanced to the crumpled remains of the tiger's leaders and the tiger's gaze followed.

"That's why I did that. To give you a taste of what's to come for you."

And with that, Wukong slowly let the staff slip down and watched in sickening glee as it sunk into the tiger's flesh like butter.

Holy shit this ended up way fucking longer than I meant for it to be but dats fine it just kinda took a hot minute lol

283 notes · View notes

eternalsa2z · 7 months

Text

Cookie Cutthroat

"So try my hot, tasty delicacies here at Cookie's Bakery. We're always 'Bringing Individuals To Cookie Heaven'...Yum!"

"CUT! THAT'S A WRAP!" the director yelled as the cameras stopped rolling for the final time that day. Cookie set down her tray with a sigh. Acting was exhausting. But customers seemed to eat up her warm, motherly attitude on TV and the commercials helped make Cookie's Bakery one of the most popular brands around.

The brunette baker slowly took off her hot pads and untied her apron. As she began to walk off gracefully in her white flats set she felt a small shiver run through her body. The pills she took before the shoot must be wearing off. The sensation distracted her slightly as a crew member bumped into her path trying to break down the set.

"Oh I'm sorry Ms. Cookie!" the gofer stammered quickly, seeing an unusual scowl sweet across the woman's gentle face.

"No worries dearie..." the businesswoman smiled sweetly back. Although a hint of annoyance remained on her face. "Just don't let it happen again..."

A phone alert interrupted their exchange, allowing the assistant to scurry away unscathed. Cookie reached into the sewed-on pocket of her floral dress, pulling out a bejeweled phone. She began texting rapidly, increasingly long red nails clacking away rapidly in time with the sharp clicking of her high heels.

People in her path began to part, staring at her with wonder. Despite having just finished shooting a commercial with her, she seemed different. Her prim dark hair was now longer, wavier, with a hint of highlights. The dress, no longer covered by an apron, seemed to hug to curves that were a contrast to the matron image she had projected. In fact her pleasant face was different, now plastered with more makeup and plump lips suited for a high end model.

"What?" she snapped as she stopped suddenly, noticing the stares. "I'm not signing autographs so get lost!"

Quickly the studio peons looked away and continued their mundane tasks. A smug little grin curled on Cookie's lips as another shiver of pleasure coursed through her body. She loved being the center of attention but it was even more fun to assert her authority. She was a powerful boss bitch, after all.

Her satisfaction momentarily waned as she saw one more figure standing in her sight. It was her bakery's Business Intelligence Manager, Ethan, a short stumpy figure in comparison to Cookie's lithe, modelesque figure. Especially as her appearance was becoming more striking by the second. Her sweet medicine was finally being purged from her system and similarly her tolerance for any imperfections was ebbing away.

The bakery queen didn't understand why her No. 2 didn't put more effort into his appearance. Cookie had often contemplated firing him just so she wouldn't be associated with his drab appearance. Lucky for him he was almost as smart as Cookie so she humored him by keeping him around.

"Coat first. Then report," she snapped her fingers as she snatched the luxurious fur trim coat her CFO was carrying like a common attendant. "Walk with me...or rather behind me. Can't make it seem like we're equals."

"Of course, ma'am," Ethan replied quickly as he opened a notebook. He knew better than to question her as her pleasant TV production persona was slowly slipping away.

"I have two things to bring to your attention," he said, eyes cast downwards to read his notes. "First, an investigative reporter is looking into our 'secret ingredient'. Any comment you want to provide?"

"Tell them it's just 'extra love and handmade dough'," Cookie chuckled, tossing her partially blonde ponytail over her shoulder dismissively. "If they don't eat that up, offer them a taste. We could use a new model raving about our product."

"Very good, Ms. Cookie," Ethan nodded, scribbling notes furiously in a vain attempt to focus on something other than his boss' heart shaped ass wiggling in her tight designer pants. "Item two is also about our secret ingredient. Our supplier in the UK is being sticky about price due to the recent strikes. How do you want to handle it?"

"Fucking unions. Little pissants thinking they can measure up to a titantic titan like myself," Cookie scoffed. "I have half a mind to crush them myself beneath my heels. But honestly it's not worth my fucking time. I'll just call up Ms. Hyde directly and ask for an advance on our supply. She knows I'm good for it and will make her double what I pay."

"Are you sure that's wise, ma'am? Sideswiping the supplier may gain negative attention and impact our positive image..."

Ethan gulped as his boss turned to face him. Even with large sunglasses covering most her face, the angry pout of her plump lips and the way her talons were clenching her expensive handbag told him he had made a mistake. You don't question Ms. Cookie.

To the subordinates surprise, Cookie didn't fire him on the spot. Or even cuss him out so commandingly that the whole production crew could hear them inside the studio 25 meters away. Instead she just scowled and brushed off her increasingly luxurious fur coat.

"You are fucking lucky the Sugar Pills I took before the shoot haven't completely worn off," she scoffed. "They must be suppressing my inner bitch enough that I still have some pathetic ounce of pity left for you. So I'm going to forget you just asked me that and let you keep your job...on one condition."

"Thank you, ma'am! I'll do anything!" Ethan trembled gratefully.

"I know you will," his boss smirked. "So when I get back from my 'Business Bitches' luncheon, I expect you to have tried a generous sample of the new batch of treats we've been testing. It's time my top assistant had the appearance and attitude to match my own."

Cookie didn't even wait for a response as she strutted away from her stunned, scared assistant. For the first time since the shoot a grin crossed her lips. But unlike the sweet smile of her TV persona, this was a smug smirk of the real cutthroat tycoon who enjoyed power and money more than anything else. She knew full well that you can't bake a cookie without cracking some eggs. It would be Ethan's mind and body that she had to break down and build up next.

A final shiver swept through her body, signaling the purge of the rest of that nasty sweetness in her body and brain. Cookie pulled her full-length fur coat more tightly around her thin body to combat the old, familiar coldness she felt. Stepping gracefully into her luxury sportscar she put one hand on the wheel and precisely pushed a button to make a call.

"Hi Evie, it's Cookie. Yes I am calling about that...heard already? Ah yes I suppose that is in your area. Yes it is a shame. Don't worry, those naughty little minions by you will be thoroughly punished. Here's what I need from the Emporium..."

Cookie chatted away, listing her demands, as she set up her next power plays in her head. She had a strike to crush. A reporter to turn. A new batch of pure, concentrated Bitch Elixir to try out. All which needed to be taken care of before lunch - but thankfully she was now uninhibited by those Sugar Pills and was at her full bitchy cunning. It was just another day as queen of the wickedly good, corruptively tasting cookie empire.

#bitchification #f2f transformation #magical transformation #elixir #good boy gone bad

123 notes · View notes

tozettastone · 3 months

Text

On Banishing Merlin

The day Arthur finds out about the magic is the day Merlin is banished.

A lot of stuff actually happens between those two events, but it's less significant to Merlin. Arthur gets saved from the glare of a gorgon and they cleverly turn her to stone, for one. There's also a lot of yelling—a lot of yelling—about the floating mirror that Merlin employs to help with this.

Probably the worst thing Arthur says is, "I thought, if you were a rubbish servant, at least you were loyal!"

Merlin is too aghast to have a good response to this, although in an hour's time it occurs to him that he could have yelled 'I drank poison for you, you royal pillock.' But Merlin rarely has the words he wants, when it matters most.

And then Arthur, Leon and Merlin all storm back to Camelot in grim glowering silence with a gorgon's head in a bag as the dusk grows dark in the woods around them.

So that all happens.

But also, Merlin is banished, which is the most important part in as much as he's concerned.

His recognition for saving the crown prince's life is a commuting of his sentence, which is only possible because nobody bothers to tell Uther about it in the first place.

Arthur doesn't kick him out of the castle at sundown to freeze, at least. Instead Merlin enjoys the hospitality of the dungeons all night, sick to his stomach and sleepless in a cold cell, and then he's got to leave at dawn. He wonders all night what Arthur is going to tell the king about his useless, hopelessly loyal manservant, who will now simply vanish—but perhaps he should rather ask if he'll tell the king at all. He might not. It would be safer for all of them if he didn't.

Uther probably won't even notice. One servant is much the same as another, to him.

In the colourless hours before dawn, Sir Leon comes for him.

"His sentence is banishment," he tells the guards, "I'm to escort him to the border."

And so, Camelot's first knight has been designated Merlin's personal watch dog. It's flattering and offensive in equal measure. He's the prince's sacked manservant, not a live dragon.

The guards give him up without even commenting, so presumably they don't know what he's been arrested for either. Huh.

That morning finds him in Gaius's cluttered chambers, shoving everything he owns into a bag by candle light. It's not much. Servants are paid mostly in room and board, and have few coins to spend on frivolities like... more clothes, or a second pair of boots.

Incongruous among the comfortable chaos of measuring instruments and cloudy glass bottles and hanging herbs, Sir Leon watches him pack awkwardly from just inside the door.

Gaius's craggy face is creased and drawn into an expression that would be ferocious if Merlin knew him less. These predawn hours are a strange, grey, still time, when only the watchmen and the bakers really ought to be up. Not to put too fine a point on it, but in the years since Merlin got here, Gaius has gone and gotten old. This morning, he's older than ever.

"You should count yourself lucky you're not dead." And yet, Gaius doesn't sound like he finds it lucky, because he sighs deeply. "What will you do?"

"No idea."

"Merlin."

He looks up. "No, really. I don't know. I've just got banished, haven't I? I haven't the foggiest. Visit my mum?"

He really should. She'll worry, otherwise, when she gets the next letter he will have to write her. He's painfully aware of Sir Leon standing there, stiff and still, listening to every word.

Merlin has found him comforting, before. He's a good knight: faithful, dutiful, slow to decide that violence is the answer and quick to act once he's decided. But Merlin doesn't know, now, if those characteristics of Leon's are, well, on his side anymore.

He does not know where Leon stands, personally, on the matter of magic. He's never asked. For obvious reasons, Merlin studiously avoids the topic.

And now he doesn't know if he looks grim because seeing a friend banished is a grim duty, or if he looks grim because he's watching Merlin, waiting for him to commit an infraction that's worth killing him over.

What a mess.

"You can't stay in Ealdor," says Gaius wearily. "Otherwise you would not have left it in the first place."

"Yeah. I know." He knows this better than anyone. "But it'll be good to visit while I—while I sort myself out. My plans."

His plans. His plans. What plans can Merlin make, really, when Morgana is right here in the heart of Camelot, poised to strike? Surely Uther won't last the year.

Uther might not even last out the rest of the month.

Arthur, though. Merlin has better hopes for Arthur. He doesn't have to be living in his pocket to protect him... although he'd prefer it. And Arthur is better liked and less unbending, anyway. Just because Morgana wants to kill him does not mean she'll succeed so easily as that.

Gaius nods, accepting.

Neither of them says anything for a long moment after that, and Gaius goes to collect several things he's determined Merlin must have, if he's forced to go off on his own. First is an old leather saddle bag stuffed with food, although Merlin has no saddle and certainly no horse. Then it's a linen envelope filled with tiny sachets of dried herbs. Then cloudy glass bottles of medicines, ones that won't lose their potency even if they aren't fresh. They're medicines that have been used since Roman times: autumn crocus for the heart, nightshade for the nervous system, poppy juice for pain...

Merlin sees Sir Leon watching him steadily from the corner of his eye, even as he accepts these familiar tinctures wrapped in rags right from Gaius's worn hands.

The knight is doing the job Prince Arthur has told him to do. It is a direct abrogation of the law as handed down by king and council. Merlin swings wildly between feeling personally offended and powerfully resentful—enough to make the candles flicker fitfully away from his temper, like it's a physical thing—and existing in the cruel grip of perspective. Banishment is the best Arthur can give him. Following his orders to watch him and make sure he really leaves at dawn is the best Sir Leon can give him.

And yet, Merlin is bitter.

His stomach is tight and his eyes sting at regular intervals, threatening furious tears.

...Merlin is frightened, too. But anger feels better than fear.

"This is for you, too." Gaius startles him out of his dark and spiralling thoughts with one last gift. "I have no misgivings about giving you this, now."

It's a roll of soft vellum enclosed in a little wooden tube. Merlin looks at him, and then unrolls it and reads, glancing up at him moment to moment. Gaius has put his own good name to it. Merlin, it says, is a physician whose skills and character are in good standing with the court physician at Camelot.

It does not say he's in good standing with the king or the prince, which is... good, probably. But it's skirting the edges of a lie. Especially with the little seal at the bottom: the Pendragon dragon, curled around the physician's staff. It's the seal specific to the physician of the court.

Merlin raises his eyebrows. Gaius only rarely even permits him to see a patient alone, because apparently he'd lose his head if it wasn't attached. "Really?"

Ealdor doesn't need a physician. It can't support one. Everyone in a village that small needs to be working in the fields so they all live through the hungry gap at the end of winter. And winters have been getting very, very long these last few years. A physician doesn't work in a place like that, although he may travel through. He works in an army or for a mercenary company, or at a fortified settlement like the castle here in Camelot, or the old Roman Londinium, off in Mercia.

"Just in case," Gaius offers, quirking a significant eyebrow.

Their goodbye is sentimental and teary.

Leon walks with him to the border, although he brings his horse. The animal's head bobs as it ambles along beside them.

Leon doesn't speak to him, at first, which is actually quite useful, because it gives Merlin the chance to provide last instructions about the care and keeping of Arthur.

"There are sorcerers trying to kill Arthur every other week," Merlin tells him. "You have to keep a look out. Anyone new. Anyone suspect. Make sure George gets my job—Arthur hates him but he's been vetted. Get someone else to open his gifts, even if you think they're from someone trustworthy." Like Morgana. "Don't let him get enchanted. Check for cantrips under his bed, in his pillows, in his clothes—you have to feel the seams. Don't—"

"Is this why you started?" Leon wonders, tipping his head back to squint at the sun rising, soft pink and burning red on the horizon. "Using sorcery, I mean."

Merlin stalls. His brain is full, but his mouth is empty. "Uhh..."

"Only, you don't seem like the type."

"The type?" Even in Camelot, sorcerers have never seemed to have much of a 'type,' to Merlin. They appear among the lowest and the highest in society, and use magic for applications ranging from regicide to healing blisters.

Leon reflects. "Desperate," he amends. "Or religious."

Oh. Well.

That.

"Can you think of any reason why all the sorcerers you find in Camelot might seem like desperate nutters?" he sighs. "But I'm not from here. I was born with it and my mum sent me to live with Gaius to learn how to control it."

Leon starts. "I wasn't aware one could be born with the... with magic. Stop that," he adds to his horse, who is taking advantage of the loose rein to snag grass from the side of the path. He takes her bridle by the cheek piece and brings her head closer, the better to keep an eye on her. "She knows better than to eat with her bit in."

Merlin thinks most horses actually know one thing and one thing only: how much they can get away with, under whose watch. He doesn't say that Leon's a soft touch with his horses. If he doesn't know by now, there's no point telling him.

"Most sorcerers learn it. You can be born with it. I was... struggling in Ealdor." Merlin is very tired. Funnily enough, spending all night in the dungeons and then getting roused before dawn hasn't left him with much energy for putting one foot in front of the other. It makes him more honest than he might otherwise be. Or perhaps he'd be this direct with anyone who knew. It's hard to say. He's been keeping it quiet for so long.

He puts one foot in front of the other and finds himself missing Lancelot powerfully. Maybe he will try to find him, he thinks, after he sees Hunith. But Lancelot could be anywhere by now.

"Is that where you're going now?"

"Seems rude to get banished from a whole kingdom, cross the border, and not even visit my mum, doesn't it?"

"Your mum," Leon says slowly.

"Yeah. Sorcerers also have mothers, you know. One of the first people I rescued Arthur from was a sorcerer's mum, actually."

"I recall. That was when the king made you his manservant."

"Uh-huh. Used magic for that, too." He's already banished—what can it hurt? It feels weirdly cathartic to be this honest, for a change.

"I was at that feast, but I noticed nothing out of the ordinary."

"Yeah. I slowed time."

"Slowed time?"

"Yep. No idea how. No training, you know."

Leon's face is a mix between deep alarm and wondering if Merlin is having him on, which actually makes telling him a lot more fun.

So on their two day walk to the kingdom's border, Merlin takes the opportunity to unload every bit of magic that ever saved Arthur right onto Sir Leon's dutiful shoulders. If nothing else, it will give him a really good idea of what sort of thing to look out for while Merlin's banished.

At the border—marked by heavy stones and the curve of a stream—Leon leaves him.

Merlin isn't sure if he's changed his opinion on sorcery. But he reckons he has at least impressed upon him the sheer amount of danger Arthur is exposed to in a citadel that refuses magical protection.

"Leon," Merlin says gravely. "Don't let Arthur get killed."

And now that he has the past two days as testimony to how bloody hard that is, Leon looks appropriately daunted by the responsibility. But he squares up, exhales, and says: "You have my word. I won't."

Which is all you can really ask for, Merlin guesses.

He wonders what Kilgarrah would have to say about this. Extracting this promise from Leon is a lot like outsourcing his destiny, really. Probably he'd have nothing particularly flattering to say about, but when does Kilgarrah ever say anything nice?

...Good thing Merlin isn't going to bring it up to him.

"Right," he says, watching Sir Leon mount up and turn his horse right back around towards Camelot. He looks very picturesque, a big strapping man on a shiny bay horse with his long red cloak. He could be a painting, framed beautifully with the sun rising over the landscape behind him. "That's that, then."

And Merlin shifts the weight of his bag higher on his shoulder and puts one foot in front of the other, on his way to Ealdor...

#merlin bbc #my fic #merlin fic

20 notes · View notes

schmergo · 8 months

Text

I've recently done a little bit of research for some stuff adjacent to the production of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes that I'm in right now and, in checking whether certain scientific institutions and inventions would have existed during the time of the play, I discovered something kind of interesting: many of the ones I've looked up were coincidentally established within 5-10 years of the setting.

The first bunch of Sherlock Holmes stories, the source materials for this play, came out between 1887 and 1893. The Natural History Museum? Opened fully in 1883. The Prime Meridian? Officially established in 1884. Tower Bridge? Built between 1886-1894. The Tube running northwest from Baker Street? 1880. London's first electrical power station? 1882. Those are just the ones I happened to look up. Telegrams are common in the Sherlock Holmes tales, and by the later Sherlock Holmes stories, he's using a telephone and even automobiles are mentioned.

Reading the Sherlock Holmes stories with that context of a world full of rapid changes and advancements, I feel like it comes across differently. It seems to say, "There's a scientific answer for everything." His unique detecting style, based on simple observations, made it seem like the age-old problems of crime and criminals could be defeated by logic and reasoning. I think there's a level of idealism, that even the most difficult crimes are solvable and bad actors are no match for modern scientific knowledge.

Reading Sherlock Holmes cases often gives the comfortable feeling of order and justice being served. I think that's the same reason true crime content is so popular today in another age of rapid digital advances-- and if we guess the solution, it's doubly satisfying. It's also why Sherlock Holmes is so easily translated to modern day.

But that also makes me think about another book and another equally iconic character that came out around that same time period: Dracula, published in 1897. And Dracula takes a lot of the same themes and seems to say the exact opposite.

I think one of the biggest things that surprises first-time readers of Dracula is how modern Dracula feels and how much technology is used in the book. Like the Sherlock Holmes stories, it was set in roughly 'modern day' when it was written. The 'good guys' use trains, telephones, typewriters, and even blood transfusions. But when Dracula, an old-world monster, arrives in their modern newfangled city of London, all of that technology is useless against him. And so is any ability of theirs to deduce a simple scientific explanation for what's going on.

When Dracula starts sneaking into their friend’s house and sucking her blood each night, the signs are obvious, right down to the puncture marks on her neck. The reader and audience knows what’s up waaaay before the characters do. It’s infuriating! You want to jump up and down and yell, “A VAMPIRE IS KILLING HER!” But why don’t they see what’s right in front of their faces? Because they’re thoroughly modern upper-middle class British people who live in a scientifically advanced world and believe in reason.

The chaos of true evil is more powerful than logic and reason. To defeat him, they need to get on his level and use superstition and religion and folklore. It's the polar opposite of a story like "The Hounds of the Baskervilles," published five years later.

All that said... I would love to see a Sherlock Holmes and Dracula crossover. How long would it take Holmes to deduce that he had run into a real vampire? Would he make all the correct observations and keep coming to the wrong conclusions? Would he be able to accurately predict the patterns of Dracula's behavior when his opponent has superhuman abilities and can transform into multiple different types of animals?

Or, given Holmes' somewhat addictive and adrenaline-driven personality, his superior attunement to his senses, his surprising revival from the dead, and his innate instinct to 'catch his man' at any cost... would he himself make the most dangerous vampire of all?

#sherlock holmes #dracula #literature #books #mysteries #novels #classic literature #english major

36 notes · View notes

gnomeniche · 2 years

Text

the post where i ramble about yellow and duck's dynamic and how stressed (compelled) it makes me

i'm thinking so hard about this post about the guys all having a favorite friend but that favorite not returning the feeling bc it's smth i noticed too (+ the fave color thing. it's kind of cute honestly but it makes me sad too )

but what i'm REALLY thinking on is yellow and duck's dynamic. bc it seems like yellow really likes duck but duck has some kind of problem with yellow?

and in a lot of ways, duck and yellow are foils. like we talk a lot about how red and duck are foils but i think it's Just As Much for yellow and duck. like in this interview joe describes yellow as "optimistic and idiotic" and duck as "cynical and fussy," and baker describes yellow as a "kindly moron" and duck as a "fussy asshole." optimistic vs cynical, scatterbrained vs pedantic, kind vs cruel. and there's how red seems to have to mediate between them so often that he yells at them "I'VE TOLD YOU GUYS I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE" during the fight scene.

it seems like their relationship is just… contentious. and i want to explore that.

(this is gonna be a long ass ramble so strap in)

like duck is consistently Just The Fucking Worst to yellow like he's SUCH an asshole to him. he's always making fun of him and dismissing him and talking down to him and berating him. what the FUCK is your PROBLEM yellow has done NOTHING to you!!!

like i think yellow Does really like duck! he's always following up on duck's statements or jokes and trying to converse with him. he genuinely loves hanging out with him even when he's mean and he is utterly devastated when he dies. you can hear him sadness-remembering duck telling him "i don't want you i want my best friend" when he dissociates inside his dissociation in "friendship".

and he seems to treat him more like an equal than red, who he usually acts more deferential toward. like he directs his words toward duck more often than red, he questions him when he says weird shit, and he isn't afraid to yell back when he's mean. like your friend who you dunk on vs your mom friend. i'm just saying. i don't think he would have dared to hit red with a glass bottle.

and that's why their relationship is contentious. because duck will not stop being an asshole and yellow is not going to just sit there and take it. god dammit we Are friends and friends are Not assholes to each other.

i think the episode where they get along the best is "transport." but that's the episode where All Three of them seem to have become more comfortable around each other. maybe after having spent enough time together without being reset (yet)? duck and yellow are having fun together at the beginning + they're on the same page and chatting like friends after the transport song. and they fight about netflix on the road trip but it's still like, an actual conversation instead of duck being one-sidedly vicious. heck, even in "jobs" they have a pretty decent conversation with each other while red is gone.

i kind of want to say it's BECAUSE duck is so mean that yellow tries so hard to get along with him? like yellow is a really loving person and that love covers Both his friends so he wants to get along with them both. and red and he already have a comfortably chill dynamic. but he must sense that duck is rejecting him For Some Reason so maybe he's trying harder to show that hey. i'm your friend too! you can talk to me!

but i don't want to chalk it entirely up to overcompensation bc i think yellow genuinely just likes him! and he would like him even if he weren't mean. yellow is just sweet and wants all of them to be friends and duck refuses.

and jesus christ why DOES duck have such a problem with yellow? i mean i know i said yellow has done nothing to him but. i do have a Minor Vibe that the guys have some subconscious repressed memory of past events + there is that suggestion that yellow has gained awareness before and we know how much that scared duck. so duck could be having subconscious dread from The Time Yellow Ate Him Alive In Food or The Time Yellow Started Acting Strange And Frightening On Batteries even if he doesn't Really remember. so maybe he's just always leery around him. and we all know duck tends to lash out when he's scared.

but that is MASSIVELY speculative and based on my own personal interpretations so for now i am entirely in the right for saying that HE HAS DONE NOTHING TO YOU YOU STUPID BIRD!!!!!!!!!!! all he wants to do is be friends with you and you are a dick for NO REASON

this Yet Another Reason i want duck to have his turn on the Awareness Wheel because with what we learned about yellow this season and what duck did to him at the end… i want them to have some kind of reckoning. i want a confrontation where they are both running on Full Awareness and fully cognizant of what has happened and keeps happening between them. not even the batteries thing just… the patterns they keep falling into in general. i really want more exploration of this dynamic because it is So compelling. a lot of potential for characters to develop in interesting directions.

#dhmis #dhmis analysis #dhmis yellow guy #dhmis duck #am.txt

142 notes · View notes

bluescarabguy · 1 year

Text

So I hadn't gotten a chance to look at the 8-minute gameplay demo for the DEAD SPACE remake until now, but wow does that look good and like exactly what I want from a remake of that game.

Like...same story and environment and characters and locations. But now it's more interconnected and thus feels even more like one big location than the illusion of one the original two games fabulously created, and we've backfilled in DS2's gameplay improvements, like better manual reloading and the ability to freely move in zero gravity rather than the surface-to-surface jumping the first game had, Iassume due to a mix of tech and design limitations that were fixed by DS2. And of course my personal favorite thing even if it's not that important to the design, which is that Isaac has dialogue in the first game now, but it's still the same actor and most likely the same personality we know.

I personally think Isaac actually works wonderfully as a silent protagonist in the first game. His silence and the fact you only see his face at the beginning and end gives him a Gordon Freeman level of immersion, that you're playing as a specific person and not a self-insert, but also that you're not just viewing that character's story, you ARE them. It's identification rather than self-insertion or cinematic distance. It's a very careful line to tread, and Dead Space does it perfectly.

BUT...it does it perfectly in isolation. The moment they made the decision to give Isaac extended dialog and show his face emoting throughout DS2's many cutscenes, they'd now introduced the cinematic distance they avoided entirely in DS1. That's fine, that's totally okay, I think DS2 does a great job balancing immersive identification with cinematic storytelling, mostly by using the fairly novel at the time but well-worn by now technique of never hard-cutting, just seamlessly moving the camera away from its usual over-the-shoulder anchor to other points during cutscenes and then back to over the shoulder before gameplay resumes, so we never actually leave Isaac's perspective. We might not always feel like we're in Isaac's brain anymore (except of course for all the hallucination stuff), but we're always standing right next to him.

But that is the core presentational difference. Because Isaac didn't talk in the first game and the camera never left his shoulder, you filled his personality in with everything YOU felt. YOU were Isaac Clarke, space engineer dealing with alien zombies and creepy cult artifacts. But in DS2, the devs assert that no, Isaac has a definitive character beyond how you as the player feel wearing his boots. Again, both creative decisions are equally valid and incredibly well-done. But all this preamble is just getting to the obvious point: by giving Isaac objective character in DS1, we're now led to question why he never displayed it in DS1.

It'd be like if Gordon Freeman suddenly talked in Half-Life 2, or Master Chief never talked in Halo CE but suddenly had things to say in Halo 2 (which is kind of the opposite of what happened, but that's another discussion). So it's nice that we're establishing with this remake that Isaac has a definitive depiction of characterization across all three games.

But if they had cast ANYONE other than Gunner Wright, it would have implied they were using this as a chance to REBOOT Isaac's personality, rather than just backfill the one they created for him in DS2. So it's a gigantic relief that Wright returns to grace us with what will undoubtedly be another great everyman performance.

Seriously, how crazy is it that Isaac had no dialogue in Dead Space 1, and yet they still cast the guy who provided his grunts and yells to perform whole scenes in Dead Space 2? And he was perfect! It feels like a given that after the first game's success and the decision to give Isaac dialogue in the sequel, they would have recast with either a more popular voice actor (2011, so almost certainly Nolan North or Troy Baker) or a film/TV actor stuntcast (like spiritual successor Callisto Protocol's casting of Josh Duhamel as its protagonist). But Visceral trusted Gunner Wright to bring it and he brought it. The duology of the first two games, and the trilogy as a whole despite DS3's other shortcomings, wouldn't have worked otherwise. Glad Motive/EA understand that for the remake too.

I couldn't be more excited for the remake. Hopefully it comes through, unlike (according to what I've seen and heard) Callisto Protocol, the game we expected to be better as a spiritual successor from the original Dead Space team rather than a theoretically soulless cash grab EA announced after killing Visceral.

#dead space #visceral games #isaac clarke #gunner wright #video games #interactive storytelling

1 note · View note

sseureki · 3 years

Photo

Who talks to a child like this?

#all american #allamericanedit #billy baker #spencer james #hes a kid and hes scared to move away from home #why did he come at him like this?#daniel ezra #taye diggs #aaedit #billy often forgets that spencer aint his fcking friend but A CHILD #he talks to him like theyre equals #and yells at him like hes grown #hes a scared kid???

64 notes · View notes

echoalyssa · 3 years

Note

Hiii,i was wondering if you could do something with Marcus Baker where the reader is best friend with Max and Marcus ask her to be his girlfriend and max’s reaction,only is you,thank you!Have a wonderful night/day!

You prance through the door holding your boyfriend’s hand. Your boyfriend! The word was so new to you. In reference to you, the word had only been used a few times in middle school. When you could be ‘dating’ someone but you never spoke in person, only texted.

Despite Marcus’ normal gloomy demeanor, he’s grinning from ear to ear, holding your hand happily.

“Max!” You yell up the staircase.

“Idiot sister!” Marcus yells only a fraction of a second later.

You smack his arm.

Maxine thunders down the stairs, “Just to be clear! I don't answer to idiot sis-”

Her eyes land on yours and Marcus’ intertwined fingers. “Oh. My. GOD!” She surges forward and throws her arms around your neck. “Is it official?”

You nod in confirmation and simultaneously the two of you begin squealing and jumping.

“Bleh! Why must you two be so loud?”

Marcus is pretending to be defeated with a hand on his forehead. His twin reaches over and smacks him.

“Why are you two always attacking me!?”

In concert, you both roll your eyes.

Maxine turns, an arm around your shoulders, yours is around her waist.

“Now Marcus, if you do anything bad, or hurt Y/N in any way, I will not hesitate to disown you and bash you with your own kneecaps.”

Marcus bites his lip, “I wouldn't dream of it.”

He moves forward and kisses you gently.

“Mar-CUS!” You best friend slaps her hand over her eyes. “Quit making out with her so that I can interrogate her!”

Very reluctantly, he releases you. He’s able to get one last look at you as Maxine calls, “We’re doing a photoshoot after this!”

The two of you thunder up the stairs and into Max’s room. She grabs your shoulders. “Give me ALL the details, and if it was any less than perfect I’ll make him do it again!”

You’d always kept Max in the loop, you went to her the second you realized you had feelings for her twin brother. And because of your honesty, and the fact that she knew you would balance the relationship equally... well Max had given you her blessing.

You were already her unofficial sister, so why not start the steps to official sisterhood.

#ginny and georgia #marcus #Marcus baker #baker #baker twins #max baker #maxine baker #Marcus baker x reader

590 notes · View notes

emmy-renee · 3 years

Note

Oh my-! I simply fell in love with the way you write with the ciel x baker reader. Your way of narrating made me hooked on the story! and the one you write about Ciel only made my desire to follow you go 📈📈📈

Please never put this aside! You are very talented dear <3

So, i hope that you don't mind if i made a request (its okay if you do, btw) Can I please ask for some Yandere headcanons! Ciel, Sebastian and Alois (or non-yanderes, if you prefer!) With a reader who is generally calm and doesn't get in trouble (something like Kagaya Ubuyashiki '' Oyakata-sama ''), BUT they are EXTREMELY overprotective with her younger brother, who if you want an example is like Senjuro Rengoku (from Demon Slayer too- don't let it show that I love that anime) who is sweet and innocent. So one day our cute boys saw how a mf annoyed his beloved's little brother to the point of making the boy cry, but before they could do anything, the bully was hit by the reader's fist, who hit him so strong that it left him with a broken nose and lying on the groundhad, and the reader with a VERY angry look on his face, which the characters had never seen since she / they is usually quite calm, and then they witnessed his `` she / they '' pass usual but preoccupied consoling her younger brother. How would they react to this?

I hope you have a beautiful week!

P.D: Bonus if the reader threatens the jerk with a calm (really scary really scary as fuck) smile, like, '' The next time I see you breathing close to him, one punch won't be all you're going to get from me. Your choice. <3 ''

𝑨𝒘, 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆! 𝑯𝒂𝒉𝒂-𝑰 𝒂𝒃𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈!

𝑩𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝑩𝒖𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒓 † 𝑲𝒖𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒔𝒖𝒋𝒊

♚-𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏(𝒔) ♝-𝑭𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇 ✯-𝑺𝑭𝑾

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

𝑪𝒊𝒆𝒍♔𝑷𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒉𝒊𝒗𝒆

↠ To Ciel your were nothing more but an ethereal human being. Coming from a family of higher class it was fairly easy for him to ask your father for the permission and honor of courting you. You were so kind, so lovely, and treated everyone around you as equals.

"No Sebastian, I made the mess it's only fair if I were the one who clean it."

↠ So you can only imagine that the earl fell a bit hard for you. He loved how you would go out of your way to keep him company as he worked; by either talking about your day while he wrote, to simply reading sitting in front of his desk. Often he would look up to see a very intrigued (Y/N) with their nose buried deep in the piece they read taking his time to admire their features before moving on to his next concern.

↠ For struggling to show emotions, everyone was taken back a bit when the earl greeted your little brother with a smile. Not only did he do it because the boy was his soon-to-be-betrothed's sibling, but because the six year old reminded Ciel so much of his (Y/N). Ambrose was just as kind as his sister-he was energetic and outgoing with a bubbly and positive personality to match. The bluenette some-what understood why you were so overprotective; he did have a brother once, after all so it was vaguely relatable to him. Ciel understood what it was like to be close with your sibling, the unbreakable bond, the secrets both could share to each other, and of course the little adventures.

↠ Ambrose looked up to his older sibling and adored them more than anything else in the world, and when it came to The Queen's Watchdog, he became more jumpy than normal and asking all sorts of questions.

"Do you get to do whatever you want?"

"If you marry (N/N) does that make us related?"

"Can I have a Phuntom discount? Please!"

↠ (Y/N) was never the type of person to throw down to say the least. They would always keep calm and collected when someone had yelled at you, and most of the time Ciel would walk out with you as Sebastian dealt personally with the idiot. But of course, some people can turn into a different person completely.

↠ Ciel and Sebastian had just returned from a visit with the Undertaker along with some information that deemed important for what was currently going on in England. As the duo walked back to the carriage, Ciel heard a small sniffle-turning his head to see a crying Ambrose and another boy no older than twelve with a smug look on his face. The earl's immediate instincts told him to get involved, getting his beloved's brother out of there; however those plans were put on hold when a figure came running out of nowhere to the boys.

↠ That's when the thud and crack was heard momentarily after, his eye widened when he realized the figure was (Y/N), and the boy who dare hurt her brother was on the floor holding his nose in pain and agony. Flames and chaos filled their dull eyes of unhappiness when they bent down to the kid's level as they rose up, and Ciel saw and felt the fear once a toothy smile grew on his lover's face.

"The next time I see you even looking at him, I won't hesitate to break more than just your nose."

↠ The Earl didn't even know what to think about the situation entirely; it was just a jumble of emotions. He didn't know weather to scold you for raising a hand to a child, or to see if your knuckles were alright once you casually walked by him not too long after.

↠ Ciel seemed a bit distant the next day;off to say the least. You did your best to get the reason of his behavior out of him, but he just claimed that his work was getting complicated and needed a bit of air. However once he had reached his office and looked out the window to see you smiling widely at Ambrose hugging your legs in the gardens, he knew that you did with the best intentions. Because after all, he knew the oldest sibling only wanted the best for the younger one.

𝑺𝒆𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒏♱𝑴𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒔

↠ Let's be honest, your calming and soft demeanor is probably why he felt any attraction towards you. He simply adored the praise you constantly gave him, seeing as how he's an attention whore a demon, it certainly boosts his pride and ego; he appreciates compliments in general from anyone, but if it's from you and your angelic voice it just hits different. With Ciel's knowledge and permission, you made sure to visit Sebastian on a daily basis, making sure to help him dry the dishes once done washing, or hanging up sheets and clothes to dry. Sebastian loved the hugs you gave him from behind when cooking, or the little check up you gave him making sure he was still taking care of himself.

"Sebastian! How is your day going, darling? Are you still making time to care for yourself?"

↠ Those were the little things that boosted his determination to keep going; because you were his biggest supporter. Sebastian was astonished how (Y/N) managed to keep their manners even when not around nobles, in parties, or in the public eye. The demon found himself falling for you harder whenever you asked about the fuzzy feline friends, if they needed toys to play with, and their health.

↠ One thing the butler did seem to admire about (Y/N) was their nonchalant behavior for loosing an argument. You just explained to him that the drama and fighting wasn't necessary but just a silly thing to be angry about. He did step in whenever a hand was raised to you, the room falling silent when those moments happened at stores or bars.

↠ You never tried to hide the fact you had a sibling-why would you; there was nothing wrong about your family at all, in fact you thought it was amazing of them to let a butler court you. So when you decided to bring along Victor to one of your trips to visit Sebastian, the butler wasn't shaken at all. He was however, taken back about the young boy's energy and questioned why you were so calm about it.

↠ He was an only child growing up, so Sebastian never really understood what it was like growing up besides someone else. He never really got the 'older sibling looking after the younger sibling' or the 'younger sibling looking up to the older sibling' beliefs and stereotypes. That was until he saw your angelic face smiling widely at a six year old explaining something to you a few weeks after your relationship with the demon.

↠ Sebastian did take a liking to your little brother Victor, but did find himself wondering how the little boy and his kitten be related. Sure you two did look like each other in many ways, but you were so calm and quiet, Victor was just loud and talkative. He was like a lost puppy and fallowed Sebastian around everywhere, to the point the butler got a bit irritated.

"Are you the guy (N/N) loves?"

"How do you cook so good?"

"Why do you work for a kid?"

↠ Victor had gotten under Sebastian's skin for sure, but he didn't want to tell you that he was a bit too much for him to handle; but like the gentleman he was, he said nothing about it to you and explained it all to the cats in the wardrobe. However once Victor had left, the demon was finding himself missing the boy-another (Y/N) to admire his work. So from that moment on, Sebastian taught the young (L/N) some of his well known dishes, how to keep a manor running, and so on so forth. You teased him about how he was becoming more of an older sibling to your little brother than you a few times, but he shooed the topic away not wanting his ego to fall.

↠ As he was returning to his young master at the mortician's parlour from getting a few errands, he noticed a familiarly faint smell coming from a park on the way to his location. Following it as it got stronger, he realized that it didn't belong to you, but your younger brother. The demon ran faster and faster as the scent became incredibly strong, stopping at a distance to see Victor crying on a bench with a fifteen year old boy raising a hand.

↠ But as soon as he began to get closer to the boys, a figure beat him to it, knocking the older boy down with a crack. Sebastian's eyes widened when he saw that it was none other but (Y/N), except their calm and kind demeanor was replaced with disgust and hatred. The older boy soon got to his feet as he held a broken nose with his right hand, beginning to raise his remaining one and bringing it down, until it was caught in the firm grasp of (Y/N) as a sick and twisted smile formed on their face.

"The next time you even dare raising a hand to my dear brother, I won't hesitate breaking your wrist too."

↠ Sebastian just stood back replaying the prior events in his head. He just smirked as he saw your face changed when turning to see if your brother was ok, the redness of your face had left and the anger infiltrating your soft (E/C) eyes had left. He left a chuckle once you passed casually by him with your classic sweet smile and hello pretending as if nothing had ever happened.

↠It just amused him whenever a human switched their emotions in the blink of an eye-making it seem like everything was alright and nothing bad ever happened. The next time you visited, Sebastian snuck little glances at you when you were innocently baking cookies for Ciel. He did chuckle a few times, and when you asked him what was up with a raised brow, he just said it was nothing before going back to his butler duties. Honestly, he couldn't wait until the next time he saw your perfect facade break.

𝑨𝒍𝒐𝒊𝒔⛧𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒚

↠ To have someone who was always supportive of you, who stayed with you through the good and the bad, and never left your side at ant given moment, was something Alois only dreamt of. So when he met you, the precious baby boy never wanted to let go. 'Bluebell' and 'Butterfly' were your two most common nicknames in the Trancy manor; mostly due to your kind and sincere nature.

"Oh Alois, of course I'd never leave you! Why would you ever think about something as silly as that?" ↠ Alois wanted to cry whenever you said such things. Whenever he asked why you stayed until he fell asleep from a nightmare, or when a mood swing struck you did your best to calm him down, you always said it was because you loved him, and he cried into your shoulders for what seemed like a long time. ↠ Would honestly forget you were a noble due to your helpful and unselfish personality. He appreciated you a great deal, and would watch you organize many knick-knacks, straighten any paintings, or set up the dinning table with adoration for the work you didn't need to do. He often reminded you of this asking you why you felt the urge to do this, to which you just responded with a nonchalant shrug with a 'Why not?' ↠ Claude was often sent to any moron who tried hurting you physically or verbally. His jaw would nearly drop if you managed to keep your calm if someone had been screeching in your ear. You refused to argue with a drunk person, or someone out of their right mind.

↠ So when Alois met your younger brother Henry, he wasn't at all surprised; after all, someone as caring as yourself needs someone to look after other than him, of course. The earl knew what it was like to be the oldest, the one to be in charge of the younger sibling's being, to take care of them when no one else could, and knew how close siblings could be in general. Alois would sometimes get jealous and afraid that Henry would take you away from him until you reassured your lover that you had enough love for the both of them. It wasn't until that conversation Alois tried to get along with your sibling, and ultimately took a liking to him at the end. Henry would even visit the manor, just so he could say 'hello' to Alois.

"Can you teach me how to dance like that?"

"Do you have a lot of fancy parties?"

"Who's your favorite servant?"

↠ The earl wanted to cry a few times because of how much the little boy reminded him of Luka.

↠ As Alois went out one day to visit a few shoppes in London, he heard couldn't help but notice a familiar presence. He thought it was you perhaps running your own errands, however once he turned a corner expecting to see you, he saw Henry instead. His head buried in his knees as a thirteen year old threw degrading insults at the child. Alois' blood boiled and stomped there immediately to give the fool a piece of his mind; that is until a shadowy figure beat him to it, and the teenage fell to the ground wailing his nose and wailing. The blonde half expected to see Claude to be the one to commit such an act, but his blood went cold when he saw your face filled with anger and frustration.

"The next time I see you even breathing close to him, one punch won't be all you're going to get from me."

you stated with a sweet smile as you helped Henry off the ground. Alois was much paler and his breathe quickened when you walked by so casually, as if you hadn't just done harm to another person. Sure he loved you with all his heart, and sure he would do the same for his own brother, but you were so pure and angelic. The next time you visited, Alois made sure not to do anything to get on your nerves, and flinched whenever you got mad at something.

111 notes · View notes

hychlorions · 2 years

Note

What are some of your favourite Klapollo headcanons?

Hi !!!! first of all i would like to direct you to what's basically my quippy (that's my name!) klapollo primer. it's a long read but it has the basic gist of my klapollo thoughts

to say something new though ! i think they're both stress bakers with equal but opposite energies. please never put these two in a kitchen together. apollo is like. eating a badly-frosted box mix cupcake that probably has a sort of lava cake consistency (read: raw in the middle) and going "my life has gone to shit and everything including my oven's temperature is out of my control." meanwhile klavier has a pile of perfect macarons behind him and he's going "what do you MEAN i need better coping mechanisms? what do i even need to cope for haha can someone who needs to cope bake THIS many macarons???" raw cake batter aside i feel like apollo would do better baking pies from scratch. the crust alone takes so much work that by the end of beating it out into flat-submission you don't even remember why you were hitting it so hard with the rolling pin. of course the downside of that is you get more efficient with rolling it out and soon you'll need to find other outlets to relieve all that rage, but it's not like he'd have the ingredients THAT often yk yk

other constants i can think of atm:

apollo's into poetry ! he might not be any good at writing them but he reads and he tries. like. tell me a guy who thinks like "i have to pull that darkness out of him" and "Mysterious songstress... Her quiet, deep song glides through the air... Lilting above a sparse, but elegant piano accompaniment" (yes i copy-pasted that) wouldn't try to write down the few lines he comes up with every now and then.

i like to think apollo isn't really naturally loud ? that aside from calming his nerves, it's what his voice training is meant to amend. like personally i'm a quiet person and i've had so many instructors and classmates tell me to project my voice or speak louder, and when i'm somewhere more comfortable i feel like i tend to yell a lot to overcompensate idk

apollo fact #7343984: he's scared of boxed milk. no i will not elaborate

klavier isn't good at arts and crafts. he once got into one of those youtube channels of housewives making those cute bento for their kids and husbands and he decided he wanted to try it for a picnic date. i mean it turned out delicious but it was still ugly as hell, never mind that he tried to make some of the onigiri look like him and apollo. just imagine how that would look. i say this with all the love in my heart btw

i also think klavier has bad handwriting. three words: Slanted, Sharp, and Scratchy. ofc this would apply to drawings too. i'd go so far as to say it's so bad that when he's writing down music and he doesn't have the sheets for it he won't even draw the g clef anymore. tick the staff and be done with it yk yk.

a bunch of miscellaneous klavier ones: had braces to correct a wide tooth gap and always asked the dentist to make patterns with the bands that hold em in place; terrible wisdom teeth; had a lisp as a child which led to him calling kristoph 'toffee' for most of his childhood; he was also the quiet kid that keeps sticking to his mom at family reunions (still does it). god i can go on and on.

one last thing about klavier. native german speakers keep telling me i'm using achtung wrong but i KNOW and i can't help it ok !!! i just think it's klavier's personal "help girl." his manager said pick a catchphrase and Use It and by god did he !!!!

#ask #anonymous #OH AND they're both filipino. klavier's half but he gets it from both his mom and his dad and apollo's full. yay !#they'd soooo do simbang gabi together<3 the lolas gush over klavier at church #a lot of these are copy-pasted from discord tbh #this was wordier than expected. sorry i can't stop thinking about them #i should stop answering asks like this

26 notes · View notes

recentlydeadsys · 3 years

Text

Okay so hear me out on this one.

DSMP Merlin AU

-In which Tommy accidentally discovers he has Magic one day and sets himself on fire.

-He always had a certain kind of luck in life, trees falling on bullies, Tubbos bee farm being remarkably untouched after a harsh winter or time inexpcibly slowing down when he's running away from robbing the poor baker of their pies (hey, it was just sitting on the window sill, he'll tell Tubbo, ripe for the taking!)

-He grows up in a small town just outside Camelots borders, and while magic isn't exactly banned per-say it's certainly not welcomed by the locals.

-Tubbo is really the only kid in town who seems to put up and join in with Tommy's antics, he was there when Tommy really discovered for the first time he could do magic without any spells.

-Tubbo thinks that's impossible but what does he know about magic, Tommy thinks. Everyone can do this, they're just pussies and don't try hard enough.

-Tommy is wrong.

-It all really comes to a head when he's around 15, he's just messing with the crops near his house, trying to get them to grow faster (his poor pet cow has to eat something!) and a random farmer walks on by. Now, usually this isn't a big issue, the townsfolks here are used to strange things happening around Tommy, only some suspect magic but most chalk it up to Tommy being Tommy.

-This farmer, however, is from out of town, or rather, he's from the town over, just passing through the land on his way to Camelot to sell at the local market. He watches the boy for a bit, who is still oblvious to the farmer and sees the crops on the ground grow 10 times the rate the usually do.

-He freaks out, calling the boy a sorcerer and grabbing him out of the fields to drag him into the towns square.

-Tommy kicks and screams the whole way, causing quite a few people to gather around to see what the commotion is about.

-The farmer pulls a knife from his pocket and holds it up to Tommys neck

-He proclaims to the townsfolk that he caught this young man doing magic on the crops

"Surely he's enchanted them! Poisoned them to kill you!" He yells to the crowd

-Murmurs start up amongst them, surely not Tommy, he's a troublemaker, yeah, but he wouldn't do anything to harm them right? Well. Except for that one time the pigs got loose and trampled the nearby crops. Or when the fishing nets set along the river mysteriously disappeared and showed up outside Tommy's house at night. Or when that pet cow of his bite his neighbor and faint snickering could be heard from the trees.

-At this point Tubbo had made his way through the crowd. He had been sick with a nasty cold, some crack doctor had told him he wouldn't live another winter but Tommy thought that was bullshit, he spent one evening with the boy and he was already getting better!

-"What the hell is going on?" Tubbo asks as Tommy continues to shout profanities at anyone who would listen, turning towards Tubbo as much as he can without impaling himself on the knife.

-"Tubbo! Thank god you're here! This lunatic grabbed me all rough like and dragged me away from my poor Henry. He's all alone in the fields Tubbo! What if something horrid happened to him and I wasn't there to help!" Tommy shouts, montioning wildly towards the direction he was dragged from.

-The farmer tightens his grasp on the boy "Shut up! Your act is up Sorceror! Reverse the spell you put on the crops or so help me..." The knife he's holding digs closer into his skin, but not quite cutting it yet.

-Tommg finally stop flailing but frowns deeply "I didn't put any enchantment on my crops! I feed those to Henry! What do you take me for? A cow murderer? How dare you assume that of me you prick!" And Tommy kicks the man in the shin, releasing his grasp on his neck and glaring him down, gold circles his irses.

-The Crowd gasps and takes a step back, Tubbo steps forward to stand beside Tommy "Hey man we just want to live in peace" he tries "can't you just leave us alone?"

-"SORCERY!" The man yells, ignoring Tubbo pointing his knife towards Tommy "LOOK AT HIS EYES! HE HAS DECIVED YOU ALL! THAT IS THE MARK OF A WITCH!" And with that he charges full force towards Tommy, knife held in hand, ready to strike.

-Tommy tries to dodge the man, but he's caught by his neckerchief and he panics, magic instinctively flailing out to get this crazed man off of him.

-The town watches on in equal parts fascination and horror as the farmer goes sailing through the air, landing hard against a tree.

-Theres a loud crack that accompanies his landing and the crowd goes silent.

-Tommy lands hard on the ground a few steps beside Tubbo, his head throbbing from the impact, his side hurts a little.

-He opens his eyes only to immediately shut them, a fresh wave of pain washes over him and he gasps, hands crawling to his stomach. The man got him.

-And he knows he has to leave, even if he's injured, he has to go somewhere else far away. The town just witnessed him injure a man, he threw a man into a tree! He's done for sure. And Tubbo. God. His bees are gonna miss him when he's inevitably thrown into the same pyre as Tommy. Those poor bees. Tubbo has to live, he thinks, for sake of all bee kind.

-Tears track down his face and the world burns brightly, he feels like he's flying for a moment, levitating in the air, free as a bird to go wherever he pleases, free to get away from this town and the pyre he figures they're building for him as soon as he wakes.

-His thoughts are (quite rudely) interrupted by some kind of loud scream but it's annoying and high pitched, he tells the voice to shut up.

-He lands on his back again, except here the floor is hard and stoney. He groans and rolls over. It's too bright and noisy. He resolves to keep his eyes shut after hesitantly opening one and having the sun glare straight at him.

-Time passes a bit more quickly after that, colours outside his eyelids pass by and there are multiple voices overlapping one another, hands roam over him, lifting him up and dragging him somewhere else.

-It gets quieter eventually and his world decends back into darkness, he thinks he's inside now.

-The room he's brought into smells like herbs and spices, a cloth is placed over his head and some kind of horrible liquid is shoved down his throat. He weakly curses at the person who gave him that drink. Really, he's already having a horrid time, couldn't you make it taste sweeter? Like maybe some honey from Tubbos bees. He always liked that honey, he should tell Tubbo that before hes burned to death.

-Someone distantly laughs but it sounds wet and gross, like they've been sobbing for hours.

-Everything seems slower now, and he's suddenly extremely exhausted. Maybe he'll take a quick nap. Tubbo wouldn't begrudge him that would he? After all he's pretty sure he's just been stabbed or something.

-A hand settles on his arm, it's comforting and he thinks, yeah, I'll take a quick nap.

-Before he nods off he hears footsteps draw near and the owner speaks quietly above the crackle of a fireplace he hadn't noticed was there.

"Well you boys have certainly gotten yourselves into a mess haven't you mate?"

-Thats an understatement, he thinks, and then promptly passes out.

#dsmp #tommyinnit #tubbo #dream smp #mcyt #merlin #dsmp au #tommyinnit has magic #tommy and tubbo #benchtrio #if people like it ill write more i have lots of ideas #ogohoghehehe i wonder who arthur is in this au #yeah realistically tommy should be arthur and tubbo or ranboo should be merlin but i wanted tommy to have magic

38 notes · View notes

sunnysviolin · 3 years

Note

can- can we please have more of the mob au 🥺 i loved it sm would love to see more!!

YES O H My god this is literally my favorite AU. I’m so fucking excited by this oh my god. Okay for you nonnie you get to have the story of how Mari took over her family’s business. Putting this under a read more for strong themes TW: Death TW: Mob TW: Murder (Like someone actively gets killed)

Mari was raised as her father’s successor. Her mother wanted Mari to not be involved at all and to just be a happy sweet girl who played piano and created a powerful alliance through marriage (She wanted her to be closer to Canon Mari’s personality)

Her father saw her intelligence, her cunning. He saw her spirit which had a detached power. He knew she would be able to make tough decisions and keep herself whole as she did it.

Ultimately it’s his decision, and he decides he wants Mari to become him in due time. Her mother moans and wails about it, but he will not be swayed. Even when Sunny is born four years later, he does not budge into stereotypical gender roles.

Mari’s father assembles a team of people for her who are ultimately loyal to her not him. His own consigliere advises against this, but her father knows Mari will be great and in order to achieve that greatness she will need people who are dedicated to her.

Among those people are a set of twins who belong to a baker under his protection. The twins are Mari’s age and they are strangely morally ethic. The twins are told by their parents that they are to be friends with Mari and to listen to whatever she says. Soon enough they forget they were ever given this direction, Mari is just theirs to follow.

Mari’s father makes one fatal flaw that leads to his downfall.

When Mari is four and a half years old, he introduces her to Hero. Their parents are affiliated with one another, but they both run their own organizations. They’re civil, but that’s all. They expect their children to be the same.

Their children immediately fall in love. True pure honest to god love.

Both fathers are less than pleased, but they agree that a union between their families would be mutually beneficial. Hero is the next in line for his own power, and having two strengths would be...interesting.

It’s a tentative bond that could snap in a second, except Hero and Mari are not as weak as the agreement between their fathers. They spend every day together. They grow together, they learn together, they only get closer and closer.

They know their destiny. They will rule together and nothing will be able to get in their way. They are equals, matched in every way.

Their fathers are less pleased. Mari’s father refuses to let his daughter and his future be put to the wayside, and Hero’s father has no interest in having his son be anything less than the most powerful person around. Where their children found balance, the fathers found discord.

When she is sixteen years old, Mari’s father breaks her engagement with Hero.

Hero’s father had encroached on his territory (yet again) and it is the final straw for her father. Mari tries to argue with him, but he is deep into his Don headspace, and there is nothing she can say to make him reconsider. He will not have his mind changed, and he is going to deal with the problem once and for all.

He orders a hit on the entire family. Hero’s mother, father, Kel, even the newborn Sally. But more than anything, if the only one who dies is Hero then her father will be satisfied. He wants to make sure there is no heir other than Mari. No one else but his own blood who can take the crown.

Mari finds out about this hit, and a cold cruel breeze rolls down her spine.

Her father’s hold has been steadily weakening the older she gets, and his latest deranged action is unsettling to the capos and his advisors. Even her mother is disturbed by his fervor against her daughter’s ex-fiance.

Mari has options. Mari makes her choice.

Mari kills her father on her seventeenth birthday. The morning of March 1st is freezing, but her hand on the pistol doesn’t shake. Her father is still raging, still yelling at his men and shouting orders. Mari doesn’t need to shout. Her word is law.

A congregation watches her. Hero’s mother and father who she warned of her father’s plans, Kel and Sunny who are probably too young to watch but have to understand the change, all of the capos who have chosen loyalty to her, and thus chosen to live. Hero is the one who hands her the loaded pistol. He stands at her side as she carries out the hit.

Those not in attendance include her mother and her father’s top advisors. They are being arrested in a Sting operation she set up. It was good that her mother forced her to keep her pristine mob daughter image. Her snow white dresses and long flowing hair create a perfect picture of innocence. It was all too easy to trick the FBI into doing her bidding.

Right before she kills him her father becomes fully lucid to what is happening. He stares up at her from past the barrel of the gun. She is not second guessing. She is not grieving him. There is only a cold fury. He dared to threaten what was hers. He had the audacity to try and bite the hand that feeds.

Her father’s last words continue to haunt her far into her adulthood

“Now you’re a perfect legacy,”

After her father’s death his business splits into parts and divides out. Mari keeps those who were closest to her (and all the money) but the rest she liquidates in one way or another.

She and Hero are married a month after her father’s death. They are both seventeen. The wedding is a beautiful affair, and that night she sits with her father in law and her husband and they discuss her wedding gifts.

Her wedding gift is Hero stepping back. She has proven her loyalty to him and their family. She has proven her dedication to their continuation, her ability to do whatever is necessary. Hero has always been better at the other side of things. The wooing, the wheeling and dealing. This is the right way. With her at the helm and Hero as her most trusted, she will create an empire that will outlive all of them.

Her second wedding gift comes from Daphne and Bowen. Their parents had been a part of those culled, an unfortunate reality. They took custody of their younger brother and ownership of their parents bakery. Their parents had the choice to back the right horse, and they chose wrong. Nether twin holds this against her. They offer her their bakery as her starting point.

Don Mari begins her reign with blood stained hands and an elegant white wedding dress. White becomes her symbol.

152 notes · View notes

everlarkficexchange · 3 years

Text

Rule #9

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 6: Modern AU. High School or College Everlark. Make the “booth Kiss” but Everlark! Peeta is the big brother of Katniss best friend, and she never imagined rule number #9 would become a problem. “Rule #9: Relatives of your best friend are off-limits.” [submitted by @alwayseverlark]

Rated: Teens and Up (rating will change in later chapters)

Tags: Canon Divergent; ‘The Kissing Booth’ (Netflix) Everlark crossover!AU; Canon disability; Slight age difference; Language; Snarky!Everlark; More tags will be added on AO3.

Notes: Thank you @alwayseverlark for the prompt… I remember when The Kissing Booth first came out a bunch of us started Everlarking the movie, but I guess neither of us ever finished it… Oops! Anyway, this is just an introduction of the fic; the rest will be posted to AO3 in chapters. I’ve already written a good chunk of it, but it still needs editing and polishing. I hope this little snippet is enough to get you going until then!

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

It’s the last Friday of summer break, and I think I’m gonna faint. The air is muggy, the sun is hot, the pool water a few yards in front of me looks inviting and refreshing, yet, I couldn’t move a muscle to save my life if I wanted to.

I arrived home from a 5 week retreat for disabled athletes, and after dumping the smelly contents of my duffle bag into the washer, I peeled off my shirt, shoes and socks and made my way to our family pool, just to be confronted by an unexpected sight.

I’ve been staring at my baby brother’s best friend in the tiniest, neon orange bikini in history, for what has to be up to a solid minute now.

“You’re such a pest, Rye!” She yells from behind a lounge chair, loading with darts a brightly colored nerf gun.

My brother is standing in the middle of the pool, aiming his water blaster in her direction, “Yeah? You think so, Kani?” Ryen mocks— ‘Kani’ isn’t her real name, though. Rye just had trouble pronouncing it properly when he was a baby, and the nickname stuck— “Eat chlorine!” He blasts his bestie as soon as she moves from her cover to shoot at him.

Is a typical scene, really. A summer staple of our childhood: my brother— Rye— chasing little tomboy, Katniss Everdeen, around the pool while shooting some toy projectile at each other; except this time the swell of Katniss’ breasts, the flare of her hips, and even the miles upon miles of sun kissed, olive skin, glimmering under the sun with water droplets scattered all over her body, gave me panting and straining.

I don’t remember her looking this way at the beginning of summer!

Objectively speaking, Katniss has always been cute, but she’s also another one of the ‘guys’, invariably tougher than Ryen, and completely out of bounds.

“I’m warning you, Ryen Mellark…surrender, or prepare to get your butt handed to you!” She roars.

“Bring it on, Kani!”

In typical Katniss and Rye fashion, her massive nerf gun gets dropped on the terra-cotta tiles for the patio, as she leaps into the pool to rough-house him.

My eyes follow her graceful ass with tunnel vision narrowness. A disgusting appreciative half moan-half grunt, escapes the back of my throat involuntarily. Worse of it is what happens below my waist, where my shorts are tenting and my muscles twitch.

“Fuck!” I heave under my breath. I can’t let Rye see me like this!

Nothing good will come of my brother noticing the effect Katniss has on my body. Rye is obsessively overprotective of her, their bond is one of the most unique, strong and special things I’ve seen, and I don’t dare messing it up.

You wouldn’t be able to tell, just looking at our house, our cars, Dad’s sprawling business, our high end education, or our perceived wealth, but our family life hasn’t been a field of flowers exactly. At times, Katniss was the only sliver of light and hope in Ryen’s existence, and vice versa when tragedy struck the Everdeens, Rye was Katniss’ sole source of understanding and companionship. They’re equally dependent on each other.

It's time to get back inside. A cold shower is in order.

My daydreams of shedding my fake leg and falling into the pool to relax in the weightlessness of the water after my long ass drive, will have to wait.

I step backwards into the living room, but my real, bare foot lands on a nerf dart. The squishy material startles me; I trip, narrowly catching myself against the open French doors.

“Shit!”

The skirmish behind me comes to an abrupt end, and I shift in place, to face them.

My brother’s eyebrows are arched, watching me quizzically. Even with one prosthetic leg I’m usually very sure footed.

“When did you get home?” Rye demands, hoisting himself out of the pool.

“About 10 minutes ago. Where’s dad?”

Rye shrugs, “Take a wild guess,”

So, the bakery then. Dad owns a chain of bakeries state wide, but he’s the head baker in the original shop, here in town.

I try to keep my eyes on Rye, chanting in my head: don’t look at her, don’t look at her, don’t look at her… it isn’t working! My eyes stray to Katniss all the same.

She climbs out of the pool as well, and it’s all I can do to not stare like a creep, as the rivulets of pool water drip down between her breasts and limbs.

I swallow harshly before rasping out the first thing that comes to mind. “Hey Rye, have you seen my jockstrap, I’m doing laundry.”

‘Jockstrap? Really? Smooth you moron!’

I have to suppress the urge to groan.

Ryen rolls his eyes, “Yeah, I just wore it this morning during all my sport tryouts.”

His sarcastic quip makes Katniss laugh. A sound I’ve found mesmerizing ever since I can remember. Her syren call is too strong to resist.

I turn in her direction, and again, my mouth runs with the first thing that comes to mind. “Everscream, are those new?” I point at her chest, making a vague circle gesture. I’m such an idiot!

“What?” She looks down at herself confused. I can pinpoint the moment she realizes I’m referring to her boobs.

Normally, Katniss would fix me with a scowl for the nickname she hates so much, but at 17 she’s so pure, my comment about her chest just causes her sparkly gray eyes to widen in shock. Her cheeks turn a deep shade of pink, and she plops down into the nearest lounger, scrambling to pull a towel over herself.

“There’s nothing new here!” She snaps, scowling at her knees for a second. She turns her flaming gaze back on me. “Hey, Peeta, have you ever heard of a detangler? Is a grooming product that can help tame that rat’s nest you call hair! By the way, put a shirt on, you look like a hobo!”

Rye guffaws, and even I have to smirk.

She isn’t wrong. I could use some shampoo and maybe some conditioner as well; washing my hair only with the cheap bar of soap from the athletic villa for a month has taken its toll on my poor head.

“Whatever dorks. Just keep it quiet, will ya? I have a hot date with the couch and Netflix, and I don't want you two intruding in my ‘me’ time with your racket.”

I go back inside, my brother and his best snigger by the pool like they always do. I want to turn around and fling the dart I stepped on at Rye, but I know starting a war with them would just prolong my exposure to Katniss in a tiny bikini, and I just can’t endure that torture anymore.

#alliswell21 #alwayseverlark #prompt 6 #Springtime edition 2021 #submission

106 notes · View notes