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tennessoui · 8 months

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I'm begging on my hands and knees for more Twilight au, and those are words I never thought I'd say! Anakin being able to resist compulsion, and Obi-Wan seeming instantly obsessed, and poor Shmi! Pretty please 🥺🙏

hey!! sure! here's some more!

(2.5k)

Having a sheriff for a mom sucked a lot when he was a kid growing up in a small town. There was probably nothing Anakin was rebelling against more at eleven, at thirteen, at seventeen than the rule of law his mother represented.

All things considered, she was pretty good at separating her home life from her worklife. It was Anakin who was bad at respecting the separation, Anakin who couldn’t keep son out of delinquent. There’s only so many times he could be pulled out of wreckage and bars and buildings with Keep Out No Trespassing signs on them before he got The Sheriff at home and out in public.

He’d hated it growing up and had come to grudgingly respect it later and in fits and starts. His dad dying had, terribly and ironically, helped a lot. His mother had had a stroke just before and then Anakin had been faced with the possibility of being an orphan, and the terror of that had mellowed him out.

Sorta.

He still hates a lot of things about his mother’s job. Especially the fact that she’s the sheriff of a very small town.

And when people talk, she listens.

The thing about small towns is that everyone’s always fucking talking. And other people are always fucking lsitening so they can talk later. One big fucking community, which means when Anakin comes home from his weird doctor’s appointment with Dr. Kenobi, a few hours later because he took a detour biking along the edge of the seaside cliffs just to spit in the good doctor’s metaphorical face, Shmi Skywalker already knows more than Anakin ever planned to tell her.

Like, for instance, “Sheila says that Dr. Kenobi thought it would behoove you to spend some time at the local library volunteering.”

Anakin pauses, backpack half-slung off his shoulders. He hangs his stuff up slowly, careful to keep his tone very light. “Did Sheila say what I told him after he said that?”

His mom’s silence is very loud.

“I don’t want to do i—”

“I asked the new librarian about it on my way home from the station. She thinks it’s a wonderful idea. Apparently we used to have a program like that in the forties but it died out during the war.”

“Mom, come on—”

“It’ll look good on resumes, saying you created and supported a local reading program.”

“Yeah, but I’m a bit too old to be applying for babysitting positio—”

“It’ll look good for me as well,” Shmi says in her sheriff voice. “Elections are coming up soon. It’ll be good, if my kid was involved in the community.”

Anakin’s glad that his back is still turned to the living room, where his mom is sitting. “Are you gonna run again?” he asks, paying special attention to his tone this time.

“Why wouldn’t I?” his mom replies. “I’ve been sheriff for a decade and a half.”

Anakin lets his eyes fall closed for a second, knowing that his face can’t be seen. This is how they end up half the time: Shmi’s ardent belief that she is invincible, going up against Anakin’s desperate desire for her to be so.

And they just don’t talk about it. As if they’re actually in agreement.

He knows how this is going to shake out.

“Do you have any plans tomorrow?” His mother asks.

Anakin’s eyes remain closed. “I guess so,” he says.

—--------

Mrs. Kenobi—call me Satine—is sort of scary up close. She’s tall. She glides between bookshelves. Anakin’s never met someone who glides before. And she’s so intensely, incredibly, blindingly perfect that Anakin would rather be anywhere but in her vicinity. There’s something incredibly unnerving about the symmetry of her face, the sharpness of her cheekbones. She’s obviously an absolute knock-out, just drop-dead gorgeous, but it makes Anakin’s skin crawl and his heart beat fast, but not in a good way or a normal teenage boy way.

Anakin tries to keep the unease off his face as Satine leads him through a tour of the library, a gentle hand on his forearm. That’s another thing Anakin doesn’t really like. She’s wearing satin gloves. He doesn’t know anyone who wears gloves anymore.

It’s just all a bit…unsettling.

“I put in a few words around the school yesterday afternoon,” Satine tells him. They pass by the mystery section, the fantasy section, and take a hard right into the young adult section. The shelves are smaller here, and Anakin feels rather stupidly gigantic as he and Satine walk through them. “To some parents picking their children up after school. They agreed it would be good exposure to bring them to the library for an hour or so of reading before supper.”

Anakin highly doubts it will be, but Satine hasn’t really asked him.

She sweeps past his figure and pushes open a pair of double doors with a flourish better suited for a Russian tsarina hosting an elaborate ball than a small town librarian showing off a small, cramped, and dusty room filled with padded seats and threadbare rugs.

And then, as if she has been waiting to put the last nail in the proverbial coffin, Satine adds, “A few students from the local high school will be here as well.”

“Sorry,” Anakin says, “are you saying I’m going to be reading to high school students? Can’t they do that themselves?”

After all, Anakin went to high school here. Academics hadn’t been too rigorously challenging, but they’d taught the fucking basics.

Satine raises one perfectly plucked eyebrow in his direction. “They’ll be volunteering as well.”

Oh. Right.

“It looks good on their college applications,” Satine waves a hand through the air and the words linger there. Anakin looks out the rather dirty window, jaw clenching. “I’ve already chosen a handful of books I think the young ones will enjoy.”

Anakin, committed to his fate, pads over to the titles placed carefully ontop of a short, stout side table.

“Peter the Rabbit,” he reads off the top. “Peter Pan. Alice in Wonderland. Treasure Island. The Prince and the Pauper—look, you’re the librarian here, but don’t you have anything written this century maybe? Harry Potter, even.”

“These are classics,” Satine tells him, her nose raised into the air as if she has encountered something particularly foul-smelling. She turns away, presumably to return to the front desk so she can welcome half the fucking town inside the library so Anakin can read them fucking Anne of Green Gables and become a better person.

“These are fucking boring,” he mutters to himself, flicking the cover of the first book, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz open. Publication date: 1900. “I’d rather be in Kenobi’s office getting lectured at.”

There’s a sharp noise of disapproval from the doorway, and Anakin’s head snaps up to see the tail end of a very heated look from the librarian before the door closes behind her.

He shivers, alone in the emply room, and it takes several long minutes for his heart to settle back into its normal pace.

—----------

After the fourth kid sneezes, Anakin closes his book with a snap and stands from the very small chair they’ve got him sitting on. “Come on,” he tells the cluster of children he’s been assigned to. “We’re getting out of here.”

“Are you kidnapping us?” One of them, a snot-nosed kid who’d started the sneezing says, rubbing at her cheek beneath her glasses. “Cause mommy says that’s not allowed.”

“I’m not kidnapping you,” Anakin snaps back, barely holding in his natural follow-up to the sentence which is of course, I don’t want to be around any of you in the first place. “Also, just for future reference, you shouldn’t ask if someone’s kidnapping you after you already start following them.”

The girl scowls and reaches up her hand to hold onto Anakin’s.

For the love of Christ.

“We’re just going to go into the main part of the library,” Anakin tells his children, all six of them. “They have windows out there.”

They have windows out there and they also have parents. Parents who absolutely should be doing other things with their lives and precious hour of extra freetime.

Parents who are clustered instead around the library’s front desk as the town’s newest librarian holds court.

“Is reading time over?” one of the kids asks him, turning his head to look up at Anakin.

Anakin thinks about it. “Do you want reading time to be over?”

The kid thinks about it back. “Yeah,” he decides. “You don’t do the voices good.”

“It’s a boring book,” Anakin tells the kid. “Voices aren’t going to make it better.”

“Voices always make it better,” another kid says. “They make everything better.”

“Oh look,” Anakin says. “Is that your father?”

He gestures vaguely towards the cluster of drooling middle-aged somethings focused on Satine.

The kid peeks around his thigh and then shakes his head. “No,” he says. “That’s Dr. Obi.”

“Dr. Obi!” The kid holding Anakin’s hand says, and she lets go.

Anakin gets a bad feeling about this, a feeling that only doubles when he turns around to see Dr. Kenobi sauntering towards him, hands tucked into the pockets of a long dark jacket that makes him look even more pale than he already is.

He scowls automatically as the man gets closer. “Dr. Obi.”

Dr. Kenobi spares him a look that’s far too amused for Anakin’s pleasure before he crouches down to the level of the kids. “Hello there, young ones,” he says, opening his arms to accept a hug from the traitor of a girl Anakin’s just spent thirty minutes reading to. “Are you eating all your vegetables? Even the brussel sprouts?”

“I like brussel sprouts,” one of the kids reports sounding proud, and that starts a cacophony of opinions about brussel sprouts from all around Anakin.

“Wow! One of mine just absolutely hates them,” Dr. Kenobi says. “She refuses to eat them, so you’re very brave, Michele.” He lets go of the girl and turns his golden-brown gaze up to Anakin. “And what does Mr. Skywalker think?” he asks, raising a hand for Anakin to take. It’s very obvious he’s asking for a hand up and Anakin is obeying before he thinks about it. He snatches his hand free almost too soon, but Dr. Kenobi doesn’t even have the grace to lose his balance and fall over.

His hand is like ice in Anakin’s, and Anakin stuffs his fingers into the pocket of his jacket automatically a second later.

“Do brussel sprouts help with circulation?” he’s biting out before he can stop himself. “Cause you may need some then.”

Kenobi’s head tilts very slightly to the side as his eyes catch and hold onto Anakin’s. “Oh?” he asks lightly.

“You’re cold,” is all Anakin mutters in return. He swipes his other hand against the back of his neck. “”S poor circlutation, isn’t it? Something in your diet maybe?” Dr. Kenobi blinks at him and then breaks into a wide smile. “I can assure my diet is very…circulation-mindful,” he says. “Blood health positive.”

Anakin’s mouth thins into a line. He guesses that’s what he gets for trying to give health advice to a doctor, especially a doctor like Kenobi who just so happens to be devastatingly attractive and also smart.

And also an asshole. And also married.

Speaking of which. “Are you here to fend off your wife’s admirers with a scalpel?” Kenobi’s eyebrows raise. “Young ones,” he turns his head away from Anakin, down to the children.

The strangest feeling breaks of Anakin the second Kenobi looks away, almost as if a strange pressure he hadn’t even realized had been building was suddenly dissolved.

The very small beginnings of a headache begin to thrum in his temples.

“Young ones, it’s time to find your parents, isn’t it?” Kenobi says, and like fucking magic, the crowd of six children around Anakin disperse, children swarming away from him towards the group of adults surrounding the front desk.

“Can you teach me how to do that?” Anakin blurts out, even though he’d meant to ignore Kenobi now that he doesn’t have to make nice in front of small kids. Not that he was really making nice in the first place. But now he definitely doesn’t have to.

Kenobi gives him a half-smile, eyes heavy-lidded. “It’s a special sort of skill that takes, above all else, much practice.”

Anakin scowls. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Does Kenobi think he can’t commit himself to something even as mundane as a fucking commanding persona? Does he think he doesn’t have it in him to be–-

Kenobi’s eyebrows go up again. “Has anyone ever told you that you are exceedingly defensive?”

“You’re extremely nosey,” Anakin snaps back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t you have better things to focus on right now anyway?”

He gestures loosely towards Satine, who has started playing with one of the mother’s bracelets as the other woman stands and looks at her rather dumbfounded.

Kenobi follows his gaze and then lets out a huff of laughter. “Satine can take care of herself,” he says, even though it hadn’t really been Satine that Anakin was worried about.

He’s about to open his mouth to say so when Kenobi turns back to him. His eyes are piercing, a dark, captivating sort of gold.

“Do you find my wife beautiful, Anakin?” he asks.

Anakin blinks. His headache is getting worse, which is probably down to what can only be a trick-question fashioned to look like a grenade lobbed at his feet. “I don’t think there’s a good answer to that,” he mutters, rubbing absently at his forehead. “What the fuck.”

“An honest answer is a good one,” Kenobi says lightly. “Tell me honestly.”

The words feel pulled from Anakin’s stomach, and he’s opening his mouth before he realizes it. “No,” he says.

Kenobi’s eyebrows crinkle together. “No?”

Anakin curses his stupid impulse control. “She’s beautiful,” he adds quickly. “Really. But…it makes me uncomfortable.”

Kenobi’s lips purse, and then there’s something like disappointment in his eyes as he examines Anakin. “Ah yes,” he murmurs. “I’ve been told my wife can make countless young men feel rather uncomfortable. It’s normal in men your age, Anakin. Sexual ar—”

“Uncanny,” Anakin blurts out. He doesn’t mean to, but he also doesn’t want to listen to Kenobi trying to lecture him on fucking arousal in the public library. When it’s not even relevant. “She’s so beautiful, it’s uncanny.”

“Uncanny.”

“Yeah, like. Monstrous.”

Kenobi’s mouth falls open, pink lips parted in what looks like honest surprise.

Anakin’s own eyes widen as it hits him that he’s just called Kenobi’s wife a monster to Kenobi’s face.

“Shit,” he says. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m going to go.”

He throws a look at Kenobi, whose eyes are lit with something a lot like interest and then across the library to where Satine’s head is turned, cocked, and eyebrows up high on her forehead, as if she’s just heard everything he’s said.

He decides rather immediately that he’s going to take the backdoor exit.

#asks #twilight au #obikin #a couple of things:#all the books mentioned are published before 1920 because satine was probably a young mother around that time #imo she became a vampire during ww1 #brussel sprouts tasted very bitter in the 60s through the 90s before we tweaked how they were grown genetics wise #so kids used to hate them and one of the vampires in obi-wan's coven was a kid during the 60s so has strong memories of brussel sprouts #being awful #satine's special vampire power is her beauty which is like double that of the normal enthralling/alluring/perfect predator beauty #so anakin's own sort of immunity to vampire powers a la bella means he just finds it unnerving and uncanny #but he did fall prey to obi-wans mind trick at the end there because the immunity thing i think would be something he has to practice #to get strong at #so his immunity kicked in at satine's beauty and it didn't affect him #but he couldn't also effectively protect himself from obi-wan's mind compulsion #to tell the truth #because systems overloaded

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mihrsuri · 1 month

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ooooh so I would love to hear more about Helen Norwich, and about how the English Civil War might have gone in that 'verse!

Helen, I don’t know if I said but she’s Norwich’s niece. Which I want to be clear, he never did anything to her but OH BOY. She was also born not that long after Tom Cromwell escaped him (Helen was born in 1523) after he’d been expecting to be his older brothers heir for so long (his brother had been married twice before Helen’s mother with no children and they had Helen late in their marriage).

Helen is very quiet, very considered and sensible - but she is beautiful which Norwich, after his Annoyed At Her Existence was like ‘…oh yay BARGAINING CHIP’ - it meant he could hold her wardship and then find an appropriate husband for her that could best benefit him.

(Helen was preparing to make the best of this she could - at least Norwich didn’t actually give a fuck about the actual management of the Earldom and she’s fairly sure that any husband he would pick for her wouldn’t either and would be happy for her to stay in the country with their children while he was at court so…she’d have that at least, in between whatever cruelty)*

*I’m fairly sure Norwich wouldn’t suffer like extreme cruelty because Status Thing and Status Thing Only but also he would totally not care if Helen was miserable or not.

She gets the Earldom in her own right in the end and makes it a really lovely place again - I think Welles Hall is actually particularly famous for fine wool(s) but I’m still working that out.

The Civil War in OT3 verse is me going ‘what if I flip things and the Restorationists are pissed about the increasing democracy + their colonial attempts got slapped down HARD’ essentially.

Essentially there’s this but I’ll babble some more!

Baron Hugh Wake (Of Liddell) is based on a real historical family - the first Baron had a daughter married one of the sons of Edward I by his second wife. It is however by his son (in our history both of the first barons sons died but here his oldest lives) John that Baron Hugh is descended.

King Hugh/The Restorationist King essentially begins the rebellion, well I’ll go from my notes:

Started it after his father, son and some of his sons friends were going to be jailed for human rights abuses. Believed that England should be an Empire to be great, should expel all the Jewish people, should become a Christian nation and revert to the ‘natural order of nobility.

(They attempted to start a colony in what we would call North America. (The Spanish had previously been kicked out of South America in a story that is not mine to tell but does happen). They failed Miserably)).

There are whisperings about the changes Thomas and Mihrimah make and things do happen but they really start in Turhan’s reign. And then it goes on and becomes louder. About how Not White, Not Christian the royal family has become. About how there are Jews and Muslims and…in England. About how there is no imperialism, no ‘glory of empire’ and how people are being penalised for trying to make one by like jail.

So we get to Henry VIII’s great great (I think that’s enough greats!) grandson Arthur (Jahan) II (I call him Arthur II because of the Tudor Arthurian Fandom Thing). His first child is a daughter and he decrees that she’s going to be the heir regardless of any brothers born afterwards. The royal family takes the final steps to expand representative democracy. Also the eventual restoration king’s son, his sons friends and his father are jailed for a failed attempt to colonise North America. They rebel at all of the above (it is possible that I a biracial jewish etc woman am Having Some Feelings). Arthur is eventually beheaded, there’s a Restoration King for the same time Oliver Cromwell ruled and then..Arthur’s daughter Charlotte Askala is invited back.

The Restorationist Reign included a lot of awful things happening - like I mentioned the reform schools here

But that was very much the idea - they also did that to the children of nobles etc who weren’t restorationists. It’s pretty heavy history and I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately (including Gregory Cromwell’s descendant(s) and how the chest with the Triads letters etc survived). The King Arthur Jahan was beheaded, his wife and daughter sent into exile. (I love them as well). Then Charlotte Askala (his daughter) is asked back because the whole thing falls apart after Hugh’s death (he’d styled himself essentially as protector of the realm for the quote ‘true king’

There’s a whole bunch of other things that will come up in the modern day with this universes version of the Abdication in the 1930s but I will stop now! (Also the other thing to know about Hugh is that he has two children he loves deeply - his son ended up in luxurious exile and never had children but his daughter had three daughters of her own but because Restorationists do not accept inheritance through the female line they are never going to be able to be held up as heirs which is a whole other Fuckery related to the abdication).

#lil and her ridiculous aus #ot3: political power trio #meme #tudors ot3 verse reference #i have so many notes tumblr so many #basically it’s a backlash to progress that ultimately does not win and in fact gets smacked down but it is still unfortunately a minority #(And it really is a minority like)#(There are people casually into it for the aesthetic - modern day restorationist rep is like Edwardian/1920s Old Money Vibes)#(Because when the restorationists realised they were out of power a lot of them fucked off to Monacco/various enclaves in Europe)#(With their money)#(people are very much working on getting people out of there and there are laws etc about education that are enforced)#(but the enclaves are A Problem)

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corpsoir · 1 year

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får jag lov?

#it means may i (have this dance) :]#i just wanted to draw them in these outfits again but i gave skagen something more to wear instead of just. a net HDJKSGHSJ #i dont think either of them are very good at dancing but they enjoy it #skagen is built like a twig next to lovart heehee #jjba oc #skagen gipp #lovart sjöberg #ancient hook au #corps.oc #corps.art #reference for this pose was uuhhh idk some random cute 1920s dance poster or something idk i liked the pose so .

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ariadne-mouse · 1 year

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For the AU game: Beauyasha in 1920s noir

Who can the smoking, drinking, slouching-but-hard-hitting private eye detective be but our Beauregard Lionett? She's hot on the trail of The Angel Of Irons, a mysterious organization that's been disappearing people. After a long day she finds her way to a bar where soft-spoken bartender-and-bouncer (and sometimes illegal cage fighter) Yasha Nydoorin pours her a drink on the house at least once per visit. It's love, or something. She's putting together more evidence with the help of her journalist friend-and-disappointed-mentor, Dairon, when suddenly Yasha goes missing too. Has the Angel of Irons struck again? It seems so, except when Beau starts digging into Yasha's past, it seems it might not be as simple as a kidnapping... the or something Beau has been feeling hurts a hell of a lot when when she realizes Yasha has been an Angel herself, but it could also mean Beau has an in to take the whole operation down...

"You can't smoke in here." Beau isn't going to get a smoke in anyway, because her fucking lighter isn't working. "Ah, fuckin-- you got a light?" "No." There's a clink of glass, then two fingers of whiskey, neat, just like always, slid across the bar. God, looking into those gorgeous mismatched eyes is a bit like doing drugs. Good drugs. It's also magic, apparently, because the lighter finally does its fucking job and Beau takes a sweet inhale. She tilts her head back to breathe the smoke away. Then, because she's not rude, she turns her wrist and offers cig to Yasha. "I'm working," Yasha says in that soft, quiet way that makes people underestimate her. (But not Beau - never Beau.) Then easy as anything, she leans on her elbow over the counter and takes a drag from the cigarette Beau's still holding. The paint on her bottom lip leaves a tiny blue smudge. Keeping eye contact, she sighs, blowing the smoke directly in Beaus face. "And I said no smoking." Christ on a stick. Beau is probably going to have to walk from here straight to the emergency room. Or into heaven. Yasha Nydoorin is going to be the death of her.

[send me an AU and I'll share the plot of the fic I'll never write!]

#thank you for the prompt!#this was really fun to imagine #Beau would be a very entertaining grouchy noir detective #this ended up being not precisely 1920s but vibes would be present #and yes there WOULD be a scene where Yasha rocks an amazing dress and gives Beau a heart attack #ariadne writes cr #beauyasha #tumblr snippets #AU ask meme #asks

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panthera-tigris-venenata · 2 years

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The vaguely 1920 mafia AU (based on vibes and vibes only✨)

(no historical research went into this whatsoever)

(part one, aka just notes on who does what „proffession“)

Everyone got assigned a non-magical crime/activity, again, based on vibes. Except the Hooks don't get piracy because where would be the fun in that?)

Harriet and CJ Hook are black widows.

Harry Hook has a bar (it's prohibition era, but when did he not have a deathwish?)

(Arson and harbouring fugitives could also be on their list, but we are not here to nit pick, are we?)

Uma has a gang, The Lost Revenge, cosisting mainly of orphans and petty criminals. Her main value is that she knows everyone and everyone owes her a favour.

The Faciliers are smugglers, among other things. They have the vibes, you know?

Freddie also sings in Harry's bar and Celia practises fortune telling.

The Tremaines are disgraced nobles and just trying to marry in peace and back into wealth, thank you for asking.

The de Vils do business with anyone. I mean anyone.

Also, arson.

And since Cruella is there, good few animals went missing.

Jay and Jade are children of foreign gang that specialises in over-border smuggling and probably tomb raiding and went to *Auradon City* on a joy ride.

Evie run away from home and cooks drugs. Sorry, girl. She doesn't sell on the streets, though.

Gil also ran away from home and is now playing self appointed bodyguard for Uma.

No one is sure what exactly is Ginny Gothel doing. No one wants to know.

Yzma, Yzla and Zevon sell stuff. (Don't ask.)

Frollo's crime is existence ✨

Just kidding. He would just never in a million years admit he is a criminal.

Also, Claudine is legally dead.

Audrey Rose is that rich heiress that is perpetually high to cope with society. And also because cocaine is considered a perfectly fine medicine.

Lonnie is a daughter of foreign emissaries who runs away from home occasionally to fight in some fight ring or another.

Who runs that anyway? Would it be a stretch to say Gaston?

Actually I have no idea what Mal is doing.

She is running around, doing the 1920 equivalent of spray paint and calling for revolution. Which is funny as her parents are two of the most influential people in town. Not sure on which side of law though.

Ben has no idea that this all is happening.

Yes I WILL elaborate.

@dragoneyes618 @hannahhook7744

#disney descendants #very heavy AU with zero research #cj hook #harriet hook #harry hook #uma descendants #mal bertha #freddie facilier #celia facilier #evie grimhilde #li lonnie #carlos de vil #jay son of jafar #audrey rose #the 1920 mafia au

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shinmiyovvi · 9 months

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Last wip before school starts so have this some sort of Lena for that one lore change of Vampire Knight and Noble Prince Au

#wip #call of duty zombies #cod zombies #codz #cod zombies oc #codz oc #original character #shin's bimbinis #valena villanueva #primis val #This will be now called Under the Red Moon Au #There is a huge change within the lore #And I myself can't even afford to bring you all Knight Lena #Cause I tend ti get very tired with the armor #So I believe this will have alot of changes #Btw Under the Red Moon Au is an old au concept I had before but I will need to tweak every nook n' cranny of it #The setting is still around the 1910s or the early 1920s #I'll probably going to have a debate with myself on that

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alpacaparkaseok · 1 year

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#htss #bts fanfiction #bts mafia au #1920s mafia #mafia with flip phones sksksk #mafia with fancy hats and britches #just a very random but very important question as always #bts

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tricoufamily · 11 months

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i don’t do blood sports after this is the fall ends and i instead do my beckett and connor western au

#ok no but my western au fucking slaps #loosely macbeth inspired 1920 heavy rdr2 vibes #so more like. the actual wild west is over but a new type of criminal (connor) is rising. polished wealthy big city moonshiner types #and beckett the country boy falls in with them and he’s extremely unhealthy obsessed w connor and they’re very toxic. anyway #SOMEONE has to do a horse story

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walkman-cat · 10 months

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“i love doing costume designs” I say, as I once again design costumes which aren’t the actual costume designs I’m meant to do by september

#I’ve done prelims for my drama coursework I just have to do more refined designs #it would be a lot more helpful if my group had blocked or conceptualised any scenes yet #man :/#in other news detective noir au kath designs have been fun to cook up #late 1920s fashion is fun #and very different to what I’m used to (1890s-1900s)#so overall :’)#davey rambles

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foxgloveinspace · 1 year

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Ok so since I’m on the motorcycle hyperfixation again rn, let’s pick a fandom annnnnd:

Ok, so Andrew graduates, goes pro, moves states away, and he leaves the car behind. Leaves the keys with Neil, tells him it’s his until he goes pro too and they can move in together. And Andrew gets a bike. And since it’s Andrew he goes big right off the bat, let’s say (with my minimal two second research in to it) a 2005 Ducati Monster 1000s (it’s Andrew he thinks it’s funny) (goin 05 to be safe for whatever year you see tfc taking place in). That’s it, that’s the headcanon, anyone who knows more then me is free to talk to me about this, BUT NO ASSHOLE-RY ON MY POST.

#tfc #andreil #kinda #andrew minyard #very much so #my new fave thing is to write in all caps but then make <s>#Adam has a motorcycle so I can’t like make any good aus for trc for this #and Desmond got caught by Abstergo trying to get a license it would just be sad to give him one tbh #my other hyperfixation rn is a blind man and a gangster from the 1920s so. that’s out of my range tbh #oh and the Musketeers definitely won’t work for them.

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isfjmel-phleg · 2 years

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#a 1920s AU would be fantastic #but I've also been idly wondering a 1940s/50s AU (i.e. the characters' original present day) would look like #very noir of course

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darcymariaphoster · 2 years

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Chapters: 10/10 Fandom: Hetalia: Axis Powers Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Denmark/Norway (Hetalia), Finland/Sweden (Hetalia), Germany/Female North Italy (Hetalia), Female America/Female Japan (Hetalia) Characters: Denmark (Hetalia), Norway (Hetalia), Sweden (Hetalia), Finland (Hetalia), Female America (Hetalia), Female Japan (Hetalia), Germany (Hetalia), Female North Italy (Hetalia) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Crossdressing, Speakeasies, Underground Clubs, Period-Typical Homophobia, Being true to oneself, A bit of drama, a lot of what i would consider fluff for this, and a decent amount of 1920s glitz and glam, set in 1920s New York City Series: Part 8 of Nordic Tales Summary:

Mathias is an average person, living an average life. And that's fine with him. Until he runs into a stranger one day, who makes him question everything about himself that he's been trying so hard to ignore.

#my shit #my fanfic #hetalia #hetalia fanfiction #aph denmark #hws denmark #aph norway #hws norway #dennor #1920s au #crossdressing au #sad to end this #and on not a very glamorous note but a soft one #thanks for reading!

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myriadxofxmuses · 1 year

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🥃 x2

From X

"If you're wanting to get close like that, then we are going to need something to drink. And a good year too," he said reaching for a bottle from his private stock.

"Two things about me huh?" he asked rhetorically as he poured two glasses.

"For one, I know you saw me at the club the other night with Frank and I know you aren't naive to what our business is, so you should know I hold a very useful position for my boss. It is also very violent and not something a lady such as yourself should be around. But I feel no sympathy for any of the men I kill. In fact, I feel nothing. It's strictly just a job for me," he told her, being brutally honest. He took a drink, swirling the liquid in his glass. "And for two," he continued. "I find you very intriguing," he added with a smirk, letting his charm work its magic.

#he gets very honest when he drinks lol #thanaredreadmtof #[comfortably numb: ethan]#[you're the cat's pajamas: 1920s au]

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zillychu · 5 months

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I’ve gotten a WAVE of asks about this AU, so I decided to flesh it out some more and answer some of those questions!

I’ll probably polish this extended summary up at some point and submit it to AO3. But for now, here’s a rundown of my thoughts–please feel free to send more questions! I’ll update this post if I get any more. But if you’re someone who wanted to write fic for it, don’t worry, you don’t need to take my headcanons as gospel. It’s a pretty basic AU honestly lol

Summary:

The portal accident results in a violent explosion that wipes out the whole block, and condemns all of Amity Park. Danny haunts the city for 100 years, before Sam and Tucker find him.

Setup:

In the 1920’s, 19-year-old Danny went into the incomplete portal on his own, hoping to help out his parents. Ripping the portal open through unnatural means created a huge burst of energy that resulted in a massive explosion. A good portion of the Amity Park population died, many were injured, and the ones on the fringes relocated–Amity was quickly deemed too dangerous due to the excess ectoplasm in the area that attracted ghosts.

While the disaster was in Amity, the fallout was seen around the globe. Before, natural portals were rare, short-lived, and rarely allowed ghosts to fully slip into our realm (the most severe cases being on par with poltergeists that most people didn’t believe in). Now, natural portals pop open frequently around the world, large enough to allow the entirety of a ghost into the physical plane. They’re more common the closer you get to Amity, but they happen enough elsewhere that this change was something of a small apocalypse before people settled back down and found out how to combat at least some of their new, permanent neighbors.

Danny is unaware that he’s only half-dead, believing he’s a full ghost. He ends up sticking around Amity, unintentionally making it his haunt. His grief and guilt over causing the death of his loved ones (and many others) makes him isolate and avoid human contact. Though he has, at times, scared nosy people away from the city in a mix of territorial instinct–and to get them to leave before a less friendly ghost finds them.

Ghosts are much more of an uncontested danger in this AU. Lesser ghosts are practically mindless, and while stronger ghosts are capable of reason, their interests are limited. They’re highly territorial, possessive, and often destructive. Most worrisome is that they also like to snack on the life force of anything alive. No one is sure what dictates a ghost’s propensity to attack or hunt the living for their life force since ghosts don’t exactly experience hunger. At least, not the way we do. If a human is rescued before their life force is fully drained, they can make a full recovery–though humanity has still not yet found what this “life force" is.

And since the Fentons’ research died along with them, there aren’t many tools available to the public to protect them from ghosts. Most homes have standard ghost shields and some weapons are available on the market, but certified ghost hunters are required to take care of anything more powerful than your average spook.

Sam and Tucker met in high school, and are now rooming together for college very close to the Amity border. Rent is surprisingly cheap when you’re a stone’s throw away from a condemned area crawling with ghosts. Sam is the one who drags Tucker along with her fascination over finding out more about the city, and its largely mysterious demise. Sam is aware of the danger, but feels ghosts have a place in this world just like everything else, and does exercise caution–like one would while foraging in the woods with a known tiger population.

What she and Tucker weren’t expecting was to run into a ghost that felt almost human. One that hasn't hurt them, not for lack of trying–while being powerful enough to walk past ghost shields without so much as a flinch. The long white hair is familiar in the whispers of the ectobiologist community, but there’s no way it could be the rumored ghost king Phantom, right?

About Danny:

He has very long hair, claws, and black sclera. His hazmat suit is more torn and ragged, with exposed hands and feet that fade into a burnt black.

His hair tends to float a lot on its own. It can start morphing into fire under duress.

He does still technically have gloves and boots, they've just charred and melted into his skin towards the ends. He can't take them off in his ghost form. His hands and feet have a leathery texture that's tougher than the rest of his skin.

The white of his hazmat suit is both supposed to look like flames, and also a battered look representing his more violent, explosive death.

Overall, he appears rather listless and sad, with an unnerving air of danger around him–even for a ghost.

Danny’s “ghost sense” comes out as white smoke.

He does breathe black smoke at times, usually when agitated.

He's already fought and defeated Pariah Dark by the time Sam and Tucker find him, technically making him the Ghost King. This is heavily speculated by ghost experts, despite there being no real proof beyond a massive battle that scarred Illinois. He has not donned the Ring or the Crown, and captured sentient ghosts are hesitant to answer questions surrounding him. Danny basically has the throne but doesn’t do anything with it, and finds it meaningless enough to routinely forget he has the title. He only fought Pariah because he knew otherwise, humanity would have perished. A lot of ghosts are scared of him because he's so hard to figure out, and he's strong.

Danny is usually very quiet and speaks softly, because his lungs were damaged in the blaze that half-killed him. He's technically healed since becoming a ghost, so it's more of a compulsion due to the traumatic memory. That, and he’s just… very forlorn and distant, shy around humans who don’t seem to understand how dangerous it is to keep hanging around him.

His memories pre-accident are extremely fuzzy. He knows the very basics of who he was, but specifics have been muffled due to trauma and isolation. He routinely forgets human habits, etiquette, etc. and tends to act more like a full ghost with some odd quirks.

He does try to scare Sam and Tucker off numerous times. Unfortunately for him, they realized they shouldn't have been able to escape a ghost that strong–but they did, because he let them.

Sam and Tucker think he's mute at first! He doesn't speak a word to them until several encounters later, when he fumbles his whole scary act and saves them from another ghost.

He’s still half-ghost, though he doesn’t figure this out until Sam and Tucker come along trying to unravel the mysteries behind the Amity catastrophe. Physically and emotionally, he’s been stuck for 100 years–so his human form is still 19. It’s unclear at this point if he can age normally like a human as long as he stays in human form, or if he’s immortal.

Danny's family did not turn into ghosts, though he sometimes worries he'll find them in the afterlife as shells of their former selves. He doesn't know if it's better or worse that he's not sure he'd recognize them.

(Danny also still has some living family. Take a guess.)

Yes, he knows how to Wail. Understandably, he very rarely uses it. You do not want to witness this.

Danny :) is not immune :) from the allure of eating a human's life force :)))

#danny phantom #au #zilly art #I just wanted to draw a boy with long hair and claws how did this happen #fire core au

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