#and that turf wars are no more because color is gone

[ohmaerieme]

had this idea of a splatoon au where the octolings and octo valley is The Country. have not elaborated more on it but i had to get the idea out there

[deadbeat-motel]

ᗪᗰ!ᗩᑎGEᒪᗪᑌᔕT ᒪOᖇE ᗩᑎᗪ TᖇIᐯIᗩ

Deadbeat Motel's Angel Dust Lore under the cut. (If you squint hard enough, you can see Vaggie and Charlie's rough design too.)

ᒪOᖇE

Angel Dust was never the best mafia member of his own family. He was too weak-hearted to deal with the types of people who made their home within the seedy world of crime. He was no good with taking a man's life nor was he any good with commanding the goons their family had, so his father had kept him trafficking drugs to be somewhat useful for the family. Angel Dust was happy about that, It was far from being in danger, and if he was careful enough, he would be able to have drugs from the stash he's supposed to be giving out to their clients.

One night, however, while high on PCP, a drug deal he and his brother were on had gone bad because their client finally got wise to Angel's stealing. A gunfight broke out killing men on both sides of the deal. AngelDust, while high on drugs, had killed someone in the middle of it, and he was still reeling from the shock of it when his high came down. His brother punched him in the face causing a black eye and told him how incredibly fucked they are because of what he's done. It was revealed that this drug deal was a way for their group to make peace with one another and killing those goons in that room had doomed the family to a Turf War they were not that prepared for. Going to his father to attempt to apologize had only gotten him killed in his father's rage.

AngelDust wakes up to Hell with a body he was surprised to like (despite his family being homophobic and possibly also misogynistic and transphobic). He's surprised to know how common and easy to find drugs are in this new place he's in but quickly finds out he's broke and unable to find a job because of how unused to his own body he is. His first few weeks in hell have been rough until he realizes he can utilize how this body works to his advantage. Many men and women lined up to want a piece of him and they paid good money too. Plus if they ever tried to hurt him, well this body showed him it's more than capable of keeping him safe. He actually did enjoy sex work more than his work as a former mafia member.

Everything went to shit when Valentino found him, he thought he was just another client who frequented him often and paid big money. When presented with a contract to work with him, he accepted since it looked as if the only thing he was asking for was to be his employee. However, as soon as he signed, hidden words started to reveal themselves on the paper. It turned out, he wanted more than what he was letting on. Val was a new Overlord and he's been slowly gaining the reputation that he has today and unfortunately Angel Dust had been duped by this demon. he just hadn't shown him his true colors back then to lower his guard around him.

Angel Dust has tried to fight Val before but nothing good came out of it. He wouldn't be able to do much about him if the contract was still in effect. He even lost the mandibles on his mouth because he had bitten Valentino reflexively one time. For 2-3 decades (might be subjected to change) he's had to deal with Val's abuse of him All optimism has dried out, and he's been living and coping with despair.

Angel Dust learns of the Motel and checks in mainly to get away from Val (He constantly moves places and doesn't feel safe in his previous apartment as Val has found him once again). He doesn't take the entire point of the motel seriously because he'll be gone within a month or two. After all, that's how often Val found him and sure enough, he did find him. Val starts talking like he owns the place, starts threatening everyone, and even attempts to control Valerie and Charlie when they confront him about what he's doing to Angel Dust. They of course are unaffected because of their angelic natures and Valerie absolutely thrashed the unliving shit out of Val. But before she can kill him, Val brings up the fact that if she kills him he will kill Angel Dust, taking him and the other hundred souls he has under his contract. With Angel Dust's and the other hundreds of souls' lives on the line, they had to concede and let him live, but not without warning him that if Angel Dust dies because of him, both women are going to make sure he begs for a second death.. This of course is not a big change for Angel Dust, but he's glad he can keep crashing at this motel knowing that Val won't dare come into this place if he wanted all his limbs attached to his body.

Angel Dust has become a permanent resident of the motel.

TᖇIᐯIᗩ:

Angel Dust frequented more LGBT-friendly speakeasies before he died (considering OG Angel Dust's family was homophobic iirc) and while he didn't participate in "pansy shows". He did want to join them.

Angel dust can produce webbing and uses it to slow down his pursuers. They've got a really strong grip on anything that touches it.

As a last resort, Angel Dust uses his webbing whips. They're non-lethal (At least I think so) since he mainly uses its sticky factor. They're good at disarming enemies who have guns from far away, especially since Angel Dust is creative with his uses of it.

Angel Dust used to have sharp teeth but had them forcibly flattened because Val was tired of the fact he's been nicked by those teeth of his multiple times.

The motel is actually the first place in a while he's stayed in for a year. Angel Dust has been able to make his room more comfortable for him and has his own stash of knick-knacks on display.

He is never seen front-facing. The view in front of Angel's face is treated like Phineas' front-facing view. Never allowed to be seen other than in smear frames.

A running joke for me is how everyone has no idea how a Spider's anatomy even works (I don't either).

Yeah, he'd still be shipped with Husk but I'm not having Husk call him a loser because my blood would boil, plus I'm changing their dynamic but I'll get into that when Husk is finished.

A big plot point for Angel Dust would be that he gets to kill Val with the aid of Valerie/Husk or the both of them and that while he'll be free of his abuser, it has screwed over his ticket out of hell in the eyes of heaven. However, it was able to spark a debate within Heaven's court... should the rules be so strict that they would punish a victim that finally fought back against his own abuser? (It's not that deep but it's a start at least rather than "You don't know what gets people into heaven?")

Currently unsure as to how Cherri Bomb would fit into his story but I might be able to figure it out later when I get to her redesign

I think that's all for now? This may be subjected to change at some point in time, but ask me anything about this version of AngelDust

[gojinka]

Salmonid holidays??? 👁👁

Salmonids are very religious, I’ve got yet to get into Salmonid/Inkling/Octarian religion— but they’ve got Multiple Gods and hell of ways to celebrate their ideas. Let me run through a few of the very popular “day off” holidays that aren’t “splatoween” or the sort.

This holiday— festival, rather— lasts a week, and usually begins with a holiday that is known as “fishing day” and celebrates when (religiously) the first clutch of Salmonids began to walk on land, this holiday resembles the travel across the ocean and is represented by a week long celebration across the main streets to act as “the river”. Usually chick (baby/young) salmonids who are in school get the week off this holiday. It’s definitely one of the more prevalent ones…I’m sure half of the Salmonids who celebrate wouldn’t be able to explain the history behind this holiday, they’re just here for all the fried squid.

This holiday is celebrated late September.

In Salmonid religion, they have many gods, BUT, the “devil” type figure in their religion is a giant squid that would pull salmonids deemed “unworthy to ascend” (ie transform in the HOMERUN) into the depths, essentially killing them and preventing them from reincarnation or reaching heaven. Eating squid— while a main part of this holiday— is in general symbolic of prosperity. It’s common to eat squid in celebrations before salmonids get sent to Run.

Inkling Membrane is sold nearly everywhere, it’s hard to come buy and is cheapest to buy and eat during this time. This is literally Inkling and/or salmonid flesh that gets washed onto shore after salmon runs that gets washed, dried out into gummies and jerky respectively, and sold with honey as a snack.

This is another music centric Festival... Celebrating the dead Salmonids who have completed their life cycle via reproducing and dying in the home run.

They believe the “transformation “ they undergo is to prepare them to — when they die — swim up the waterfall in the afterlife to reach the salmonid equivalent of “heaven”, as the common Salmonid forms aren’t strong swimmers. They believe these forms are traits gifted down from the gods, blessing them with the necessary strengths to go to heaven— the more good you do the more “blessings”. (Of course this is all religion, there is no scientific backing, this is just an allusion to the wacky and strange forms salmonids take on when they grow into “bosses” and “kings”.)

(Not relevant to the holiday, but in Salmonid religion, you will keep reincarnating until you climb the waterfall to Paradise.)

Traditionally, high rank Salmonids would cook great feasts TWICE, one for the people, and one encased in gold, they believe this is how they are able to send food to the gods. Nowadays, food is encased in a honey-like caramel, which they believe the gods in heaven will mistake for gold, and bring to heaven. They do this to gift “meals” to relatives who have gone on Homeruns and have died, this is a way to honor and keep them fed, even in heaven.

Sometimes, mementos, wood carvings, flowers, toys, etc— are encased in resin or amber or honey to mimic “gold”, so they will bring them to their relatives. Salmonids will leave out change (which is typically gold colored) at the front door and it’s common practice to visit neighbors or relatives, take the change, and to leave gifts in turn, (traditionally to incentivize the Gods to do the same, letting them know it’s free to take, Salmonid Gods are comparable to animals with a vaster understanding of knowledge that they loop around to being almost aloof and childlike because they are so beyond common Salmonids.)

Much like Anawm’Ghri Adaroi — this holiday is an outdoor market / parade centric holiday where you get to dress up in traditional garbs and have fun.

(This holiday, is NOT related to the Great Turf War, it just coincidentally overlaps with the end of the Great Turf War, salmonids consider this victory worth celebrating solely because warfare is symbolic of going to heaven (due to its relation to the battles Salmonids face during Runs.) with that said, they probably wouldn’t have romanticized this as such a large holiday if not for Inklings celebrating shoving the Octarian underground lmao. They celebrate it more feverishly East in more Octarian Communities as a sort of ‘anti-inkadian holiday’ because it’s Salmonid Centric, and less Inkling Centric.)

Is a holiday about rebirth and in general celebrates the homerun, this holiday is sort of comparable to a potluck, and is more so a stay at home get together with your family— this event is usually hosted by Salmonids of your family name who are set to Run later in life (ie wealthy / influential salmonids), these events are usually large and grandiose and are all about eating and drinking. Visiting your extremely important name holders isn’t a requirement, but chances are SOMEONE in your family name will be incredibly influential— and it’s fun to attend for the hell of it.

There’s usually a few party games for this holiday, but the main idea is releasing lanterns into the sky to symbolize “lighting the path home.”

This Holiday takes place late November, and no vegetables are served during this holiday, you’re intended to eat light rice in the morning and wait until night— then it is all Alcohol and Meat. If u don’t feel like shit the next day (whether you drank or not) then you’ve celebrated wrong.

[cattimeswithjellie]

There seems to be a pervasive opinion that Scar is winning the MCYT Tumblr Sexyman contest due to a misunderstanding of what Tumblr Sexymen are, and that in fact Scar's fans believe he's just a regular sexyman. This is in fact not true at all. Scar's pathetic squishy wet-cat-standing-in-a-puddle-even-though-the-door-is-open credentials have long since been established in the fandom. (This contains spoilers for most things Scar has been in lately.)

In Hermitcraft Season 9, Scar won Statistics Roulette last week on "number of deaths" despite the fact that his statistics were reset only three or four months ago. Pathetic squish of a big-hatted man died more times in four months than Impulse or Grian did in ten. And because of the reset, it doesn't even count the twenty or so times Grian and Mumbo murdered him for fun on the very first day of the server!

In Double Life, Grian literally snagged him with a fishing pole and dragged him home with him in an ultimately futile effort to keep him from dying. Scar learned that Grian was cheating on him and passive-aggressively snarked about it to other people for two episodes, then baked cookies for Grian's secret soulmate.

In 100 Hours Hardcore, Grian and Joel basically formed a protection squad to keep Scar alive, to the point of coating the land under his base with beds to fall on and raiding a mansion for totems of undying. They still failed because Scar put apples in his off-hand instead of a totem and didn't notice his elytra was ready to break.

In Season 8, Scar was killed when a llama spat on him. His hat was unimaginably tiny, so tiny that he was forced to commission a huge model hat to wear on top of the tiny hat.

In Last Life, Scar got scammed out of one life, blackmailed out of two more lives, then lost another one by falling into a trap he'd been warned of two minutes earlier, even while people were yelling at him not to fall in the trap. He had no diamond armor so he wore a diamond-colored skin but painted abs on it as well so he would look more buff.

In Third Life, Scar attempted to get a monopoly on dark oak without checking to make sure there wasn't an entire dark oak forest on the other side of the server. He tried to get a monopoly on sand by putting his home in the middle of a large desert and yelling at people who came to get sand. He was the first player to die, blown up in a prank gone wrong.

In Season 7, Scar wouldn't even shave or put on pants until he wanted to be elected mayor. It may actually have been a fake beard. He had to terraform the entire shopping district twice when he lost the Turf War because the other side didn't actually like mycelium, they just liked causing problems for Scar.

In conclusion, yes Scar runs around without a shirt and has abs so ferocious that they show through his "diamond" armor, but he is not a Sexy Man. He is a sexyman, a real Onceler through and through, and he deserves his sweep. Vote Scar!

[shadowlinktheshadow]

RAMBLING about my silly lu splatoon au at 1 am and at 6%!!

inkling

time

raised by octolings and octarians, knew something was different about him

was part of dj octavios army but escaped before he was put in hypno shades

met wild in the deepsea metro

connected to above, but received his scar by being sanitized (like agent 3, basically)

mains dynamo rollers

wild

octoling

was part of dj octavios army, hypnotized

was an elite octoling

heard the calamari inkantation, lost his memory, ended up in the deepsea metro

number 10,117

met time in the deepsea metro

mains tristringer, chargers

four

inkling

something happened when he was a little inkling and now 4/6 tentavles are colored differently (green red, blue, purple) same with his eyes

main tentacle color is yellow, sometimes fades into 1 of the 4 colors from time to time

works with sheldon to create new weapons (his apprentice, LOVES talking abt weapons too)

difficulty deciding teams for fests

mains brushes, (sometimes) chargers

wind

octoling

fascinated by salmonids, has a little buddy

the agent 4 equivalent? maybe he IS agent 4 in this au?

LOVES salmon run shifts

JUST became old enough for turf wars and such

has a little baby octoling sister

was not part of dj octavios army, descendants were somehow able to escape

mains dulaies (dapple)

(startjng from here everyone gets less developed, im open to ideas)

twilight

inkling

fell into the furry mucky stuff and has been a fluffy boy

<< not as welcomed because of this

so he has claws, fur, more mammalian features

lived in a rural inkling town?

mains...dynamos? blasters? give ideas-

legend

inkling

will literally buy every single weapon, shoes, shirt, hat, and has probably filled out his catalog for the season

had an octoling gf named marin (idk what happened to her, but shes gone)

tip of tentacles are slightly pink

I KJUST FOUND OUT THERES A SEA BNUUY SLUG. THIS IS HIS DARK WORLD FORM

ravio works with harmony (I think thats her name)

majns chargers, brellas (maybe ravio mains brellas)

hyrule

octoling

heard the calamari inkantation at a very young age, had to hide this fact

< once it was found out he was considered a traitor and he was on the run

met legend and lived with him (just thought of this rn, might change later)

tentacles are oddly brown (but skin and tentacles are fluorescent, green glow)

doesnt participate in turf war much

tried working at crusty seans (banned)

mains your average splattershot

(Okay now I REALLY dont know about these guys)

warriors

inkling

fashion freak, clothing style > abilities (me fr)

SNAZZIEST idol on the splat TV!

mains... brushes? splatanas?

sky

(ughghghhf BASICS)

inkling

mains splatana

[yatgb]

Annnnd the results are in! The answer that was false is.....

Answer #9! Nobody transforms into a giant kraken to cause chaos in Splatoon.

There is a special ability called Kraken that you can use in multiplayer online, but it has no bearing on the story/lore so it is the false one. Everyone who doubted that bears existed im so sorry to say that you are wrong

Also yes i admit to the crime of Lying A Little To Sound Funny so some of these are technical lies and tripped up even veterans of the series. Sorrey <3 i know the sea urchin doesnt actually mug you and i know beef jerky doesnt exist it was an attempt to sound funny T_T

Explanations for all the other statements are under the cut! All links take you to a relevant Inkipedia page for further research if you so wish, but ill try to explain each as concisely as i can.

Ultimately this was an excuse to infodump and i did NOT expect it to blow up the way it did >XP i did enjoy reading the tags of non-fans and which ones they thought was the outlier, so thank you everyone who participated!! If this convinced you to check the series out, ill consider my job here done. Even if you dont check out the series, thanks for looking at this silly poll <3

Without further ado, let me explain the batshit stuff i mentioned and also lied about a little

"the city gets its power from a massive electrified catfish"

The Great Zapfish is, as stated, a massive catfish with electrified whiskers. It sits at the center of city and generates power for everyone. Every game, the Zapfish is stolen and there's worries of a power crisis until it's rescued. Look at the guy! Its just a little man

"Squid ppl are inherently violent and their favorite passtime is bloodsports"

Okay i lied by accident on this one because i was remembering in-universe propaganda. Oops

So, Inklings (evolutionary form of squids) arent inherently violent, but they do take great pride in their victory over the Octarians during The Great Turf War 100 years ago. In memory of that victory, they started Ink Battles to let off steam and fight against each other in a friendly competition.

Turf Wars are the default Ink Battle, where the goal is to cover as much ground in your team's color as possible and is modeled after how The Great Turf War functioned. There are four other modes (Clam Blitz, Splat Zones, Tower Control, and Rainmaker) used in more competitive ranked battles. Inklings can respawn after dying, so they tend to aim for taking out their opponents as if it were an actual war being fought. Imagine if football players killed each other on the field thats basically what this is

"A bear steals a rocket ship to nuke the entire planet"

rip to everyone who didnt believe bears existed in splatoon. In fact there is One (1) bear that exists and he wanted to destroy the world bc he got too lonely </3

Mr. Grizz is the only survivor of a conservation effort gone wrong. He didn't cope well with being the only mammal left on earth after being cryofrozen for 12,000 years, and after a lot of experimentation discovered a way to create a substance called "Fuzzy Ooze" that could turn the evolved sealife into mammals. He repurposed a rocket ship left behind by a society of humans, loaded it with Fuzzy Ooze, and planned to crash it into Earth to coat the planet in it and "restore balance" (aka: bring mammals back to life). He was defeated, and is now harmlessly orbiting the Earth in space.

"a borderline illegal business involving mass slaughtering (sentient) fish"

Salmonids are an evolved amphibious species of salmon, which hatch their young from Golden Eggs. Mr. Grizz needed Golden Eggs as part of producing Fuzzy Ooze, and he needed lots of them for as much ooze as possible.

He founded Grizzco Industries to hire Inklings and Octolings to collect the eggs for him in a gamemode called Salmon Run, which is essentially COD Zombies but with salmon coming to attack. In this gamemode, your goal is to meet a quota of collected Golden Eggs which you get from killing Boss Salmonids, who have a variety of ways to attack you.

Grizzco Industries is very shady and was made to mimic your typical Toxic Workplace. Abysmal and dangerous working conditions, forcing employees to use illegally modified weapons, paying employees with prize capsules and currencies only useable in Grizzco shops instead of actual money... the list goes on. Mr. Grizz doesn't tell his employees why he needs the Golden Eggs, and never actually meets them face-to-face at all; every order is given through a pre-recorded radio.

Essentially, Mr. Grizz is taking advantage of the Inklings and Octolings having no idea what the Salmonids are actually like and spreads propaganda about them being mindless monsters who want to invade their city, all so they'll go out and get their Golden Eggs for him.

"theres a sea urchin who will mug you in a back alley"

Yes this is one i exaggerated for funsies and ppl got confused. Sorrey </3

Spyke is a sea urchin who hangs out in a back alley in Inkopolis, offering you services to do with your battle gear; specifically the abilities they can give you.

These services are ambiguous and maybe illegal (he asks if youre a cop when you first meet him and never really explains what he's doing, just that he can give you what you want) and he gets pushy if he notices that you have Super Sea Snails, which act as a food source/delicacy for him and a currency that you can use in place of cash for certain things he can do.

No he never actually mugs you but look at this guy

He'd absolutely shank a guy for a tasty snail. Also hes british

"fish ppl can batter and fry themselves like food as a fashion statement"

We see these in two NPCS; Crusty Sean and Fred Crumbs.

Crusty Sean is a shoe shop owner turned food truck owner turned explorer whos entire personality is being a fried shrimp. Fred Crumbs is a japanese horse mackrel that's been filleted and fried and takes over Crusty Sean's shoe shop. Dont ask how they survive this just smile and nod and accept the fried fish selling you shoes. How is he even wearing the shoes i dont knwo

"a testing facility murders its participants and uses the bodies to end the world"

rip to the people who thought this one wasnt real. This place is fucking crazy. This is literally the plot of Splatoon 2's 80s themed DLC, Octo Expansion.

The Kamabo Corporation, known as Kamabo Co., is a company created by Commander Tartar, a 12,000 year old AI gone rogue and set on wiping out all evolved sealife and creating a new, "superior" species. They're stationed in the Deepsea Metro, an underwater society of deep sea cretures.

The test involves kidnapping someone, erasing their memories, and convincing them that they can reach "The Promised Land" by passing the trial of gathering 4 "thangs". In reality, these 4 items combine to create a blender, which Tartar coerces them inside of and promptly kills them, blending them into a slurry and adding that slurry to the test subjects that came before them. All of these slurries of dead bodies combine to create Sanitized Ink, a substance that can essentially turn someone into a zombie or even kill them. This test was run with over 10,000 applicants, as the character you play as in the DLC is applicant 10,008.

When it's found out, Tartar attempts to load the Sanitized Ink into a laser cannon to be shot at the most populated city, Inkopolis, but is intercepted and defeated. The statue that Tartar used as its base of operations is still sunk into the water, but wrecked and useless.

"World War 2 is stopped bc 2 girls sang a really good song"

Another one that was sort of exaggerated for funnies

In the first two Splatoon games, DJ Octavio acts as the main antagonist, who steals The Great Zapfish from Inkopolis. Agent 3 and Agent 4 respectively defeat him and rescue the Zapfish, empowered by Callie and Marie singing the Calamari Inkantation, which also serves to distract DJ Octavio and convince members of the Octarian Army to defect.

No its not explicity stated that a war would break out but like. The inklings are gonna want their main sorce of power back yknow. And octarians are enemies of the state. Also if you havent PLEASE listen to calamari inkantation itll blow ur tits clean off

"Someone does a magical girl transformation into a strip of beef jerky"

I am so sorry for tripping everyone up by adding the word beef. Thats my bad

Anyway, this is referencing when Cap'n Cuttlefish was dehydrated by Mr. Grizz in an attempt to kill him. He's left stuck in his squid form, flattened and looking cooked, and references often being tired and thirsty. Look at this guy. Unauthorized fucking thing blow it up now

(Also a normal inkling squid form for reference. Dude is dried the fuck up)

Anyway if you got this far, thank u for absorbing the information :] once again sorry for failing to be funnie </3 if this poll or these explanations made you want to check out the series, i recommend watching a longplay on youtube. Unless you have a wii u you cant play Splatoon 1, and Splatoon 2 and 3 are both $60 (and the Octo Expansion in Splat2 is an extra $20) and i know nobody wants to spend that money lmfao. But theres a wealth of information on youtube and Inkipedia and even here on tumblr!

Happy splatting and stay squiddy <3

getting inspired by all these polls so

Dont vote if you know the answer!!!! I wanna see what non splooners think :3 also maybe reblog to get this out there???

[ducknotinarow]

⏰ - 2k7 Rasey

| send to ⏰ to peek into my muses memories [part one]

Anger, was all Raph knew. Anger was Raph ever was. He had heard it all his life after all. Told to chill out, called hot head so many times one would think that was his name. Joke were mad at the expense of it, anger was his personality one could even say. It was all he ever was. Angry. Even Bishop saw that in him called him sturdy its why that captured that time. Making mention of something very angry deep inside of the turtle. Raph knew about it, sometimes when he just got a bit to out of control he went blind. All he could see was red fitting. It matched the color he wore after all. So blowing things out of proportion wasn't new to the red banded turtle ever. Small things pissed him off like Mikey chewing to loud, big things pissed him off like stupid turf wars they get dragged in. Nut nothing was worse than looking at Casey right now.

As rain was drenching the city that night, near making for a quite peaceful night as he was out and about looking for any one causing trouble. Rain didn't stop crime from going on after all. If anything it made for the right setting for some to still strike. He hadn't had a chance to grab his stuff just wanting to get out of the lair. Needing to be out of the lair, sure risking the chance of getting sick from the rain but he didn't care all that much. Stomping some jerks might just he don't know help him feel something again. In a sense he was right. As he over heard the sound of a gang of likely young purple dragons going on about some chump they just beat up. Raphael figured he deal with them later. From the sounds of it who ever they just mugged got the worse of it. Left in the alley didn't put up a fight it seemed. Man this poor chump, Raphael opted to go find them if they were beat down enough they be to out of it he could dump at the nearest hospital. But never would Raphael expect this called chump to be Casey.

Sat in the alley way, limp and battered out. Was easy to piece what happened of course it just didn't make a lick of sense. Since when did anyone get one over Casey? Worse some newbie Dragons? Raph had see Casey whoop their asses for years. Hell Casey had gone toe to toe with more than street punks, always ready to join in on any fight. Thing was Raphael feels like not a single blow from those punk was what had Casey like this. Watching as they lifted their head up his breath caught in his throat. Fear took him over suddenly he never feared Casey gaze it was like the first time being spotted by a human. nothing but terror in him as question after question come over his thoughts ringing over and over. Unsure what to do. What would Casey do? what would Casey even say to him right now. Nothing.

Casey did nothing.

For some reason that was worse. Raphael thought they would hate seeing him the second they looked his way. And Casey should hate him. He expected a cold gaze, he expect frost bite when they yelled. Nothing Casey just dropped his head. Watching how the frame of their hair cling to the side of their face. How their shoulders lowered.Casey was clearly ready to stay like this all night. Was he not even going to try and pick himself up?

You did this.

Raphael knew the second he found Casey like this didn't mean he needed his mind to point out what should be obvious out like that. This was all his doing and he knew that! He can see it for himself. He stayed away for a reason he left for a reason but it's funny. Right now he can't remember what it was. No this was nothing but regret now because if he hadn't done what he did? Raphael could simply kneels down. He would lift a hand and push back wet strand soft hair while moving to cup Casey's cheek in the palm of his hand. Looking their face over. As he would tuck blue hair back behind thier ear. Back then though? Casey would smile spit out the blood that gather in his mouth even maybe and claim they just got lucky.

This? This wasn't luck. Casey let them do this. Casey could easily taken those guys out with out breaking a sweat. He just didn't. Couldn't. That might be the better word to use here. Look at him just took the beating and is sitting in the rain like this. He didn't have it in him to fight back. He hardly has it in him to be mad over what happened or stand up dust himself off and go home.

You broke him.

Shut up!

You broke him, you thought he break from being with you and did in fact break him.

Shut it!

"Ya can' stay in the rain." Raph finally says waiting, daring Casey to move. Hoping he would he'll praying Casey would move. But he would not an inch even. He can't leave them like this. He should but he can't. Not Casey, not ever Casey.

Moving to crouch he reached over ready for Casey to jerk away, to snap his head up and give Raphael a look that screamed 'I dear you' or a look thst threatened Raphael might not get out this with out a some kind of sign. Nothing. And that might be worse.

---

Casey was quiet and still even when Raph picked him up and carried him back to his apartment. Raphael expected them to he don't know argue and say he didn't want Raph's help. Not that it would have mattered. Even if Casey put up a fight Raphael would have dragged them kicking and screaming. He wishes that was the situation, not this.

Down to a pattern guess the body never turly forgets as he easily worked up the fire escapse and gets the window open. Like he always had done before. Getting Casey to the couch he once again looked at them but nothing. Raph paid a second to look around the place, swallowing thickly. He thought about asking where thier first aid kit was but he simply quirked his beak and stepped away. Hating how familiar but forgin this all was now.

Mentally fighting with himself, he thought he was doing what was best by Casey. All the stuff they talked about in a future that just could never be. Discussions of going to Casey's family's farm house. Sneaking into games to watch from the rafters. Plans for a future together. Raph moving in with Casey permanently. The reason for the key he gave back. The idea of maybe a family? Raph seemed to like kids. Casey would like to have a kid. But now those were all memories Raphael selfish kept. A version of Casey he kept for himself alone. The Casey that gave him a soft smile and gaze, well telling them he wanted Raphael in there with all those plans. Being back here was bringing all of that back. Because it was here they had a lot of those talks.

Fawning over babies Casey got to watch together. Listening to how Casey babled to them and how it got Raph's heart to flutter every time. How Casey didn't care about Raoh bad kitchen habits and Raph would jab at thier horrible cooking ones.

He felt like he could breath. Grabbing the kit, and turned back to the couch. Begging them to shout to tell him to leave. Rapheal needed Cadry tofi the faintest action of dislike towards the turtle but. How did he explain it? It was like Casey wasn't Casey any more. Sure he looked like Casey and it was clearly Casey seeing as a mutant turtles sighting was odd at all. But, he also wasn't Casey at all. Stopping to stare at Casey once more.

Raphael wasn't worth this. Casey letting himself come apart like this. Casey should be better off woth out Raphael in his life. Everyone would be he was so certien. But of that wasn't the case? Then we'll then what was the fucking point of what he did? Was this some stupid lesson?! To tell him it was for nothing! He hurt Casey for nothing! He broke up with them and never should had done that?!? What was he meant to do? He swallows it all down, keeping it all at bay the best he could manage. Before setting the first aid kit beside.

Rapheal left because Casey was meant to be better off without him. He didn't look better he looked.

Miserable.

Oh so you thibk he be better if you stayed?

Part of Raph, did in fact did think that. Not sure if it was a hope for having it all back. That was turly selfish of him uh? Or if in general because Raphael always looked out for Casey. Had his back no matter what. So, in honor of that staple of thoer friendship he fucked up as well?

"Tell me to go an' I will." Fingers still holding the handle of the kit. Awkward as hell course it was. They were exs now. Didn't mean he wouldn't help if they needed the help. Though there's a chance Casey might not even care. Least tell him to leave Raphael dosen't care how much that would hurt to hear at least. At least it would be better than this.

[namakes]

I had an old Splatoon hc post but I felt like writing a new one. Probably some doubled info but. Oh well.

Squid Sisters headcanons under the cut!

Callie: The younger of the Squid Sisters by about a year, she ended up taller than Marie by a couple inches. Due to mainly using roller for years in turf, ranked, and agent work (as well as being generally active), she’s also more muscular. Prefers Dynamo and Flingza types for their jump-and-swing focused playstyle. Has shared an apartment with Marie since they originally moved out of Gramps’ house, they’ve also shared a room since moving in together. Haven’t bothered upgrading to a larger apartment since the rent is good, the location is nice, and Marie really doesn’t want to move (it was a pain last time and now they have more things). Wakes up early to go for a run, often getting back as Marie is just rolling out of bed. Callie’s a good cook, and usually makes their meals. As she’s a bigfin reef squid, her tentacles, eyes, and some spots on her body are reflective. Makes taking pictures with flash difficult as her eyes end up looking like they’re glowing (which she always thinks is funny). She tends to gravitate toward things that light up, including Marie (also part of the reason the hypnoshades were so effective on her). While she’s more outgoing and energetic, she enjoys just hanging out with Marie if she doesn’t feel like going out. Isn’t a very good liar despite her acting career.

Marie: The older of the two, she was (accidentally) recruited into the New Squidbeak Splatoon by Callie back when they were just joining turf wars. Likes chargers, especially the E-liter for the range, but she’s alright with any of them. Her first weapon was a gift; a replica of Gramps’ bamboozler. Has an aversion to scopes after Callie played one too many pranks and kept looking back at her down the scope (usually ending up splatted). When Callie is away, which (thankfully) isn’t as often as it used to be, Marie frequently just orders takeout (usually because she forgets to start cooking and then she’s hungry and doesn’t want to). Will now sometimes travel with Callie if she’s leaving for a movie/series shoot, though she just hangs out in the hotel on her laptop and types up podcast scripts (or intends to but procrastinates until Callie gets back). As a firefly squid, Marie’s tentacles, eyes, and some spots on her body can emit a faint glow, matching her ink color. Only does this when she’s particularly happy/excited/etc., though she’s generally good at hiding it in her day-to-day life. Loves jokes, and her ability to tell them with a straight face always makes Callie laugh. Though not particularly clingy herself, she gets lonely quickly if Callie’s gone long.

[tribow]

Now that I have experienced both sides of the Tri-battle I can have a much better perspective. I know how it feels to be the defending team now.

Why is Tri-color a turf war? There is a clear objective here. One team defends a point while the other two teams are trying to take that point. So now we're adding turf war on top of that. What does this do to enhance the objective?

Well, it incentivizes turfing as much area as possible for the defending team...something they would likely do anyway. For the offensive team, this actually slows down their offense a little bit since they shouldn't leave areas uninked. This is good as it gives the defending team time to breathe.

Cons?

Defending team can lose even if they perfectly protect the objective. Just 1 Ultra Signal is enough to make it extremely difficult for the defending team for the rest of the match. Almost feels like fighting for no reason.

Tri-color could be changed to make it so turf is no longer a factor and instead, it is dependent on Ultra signal captures. 2 Ultra signals gone means defenders lose. Time runs out means they win. If both offensive teams got 1 signal, then whoever got better medals wins overall.

This would avoid the issue with making the mode feel dragged out since if the defending team can't protect the signal, they just lose and move on. They don't have to suffer for the rest of the match. Plus, this keeps it more balanced. 1 Ultra Signal captured does not make it any more difficult for the defenders.

Ah, but Splatfests are supposed to be Turf War right? Removing that gets rid of the whole point!

Well if you want to keep the turf war aspect to Tri-color then one thing absolutely needs to change.

The defenders must be allowed to get into the base of the offense.

The biggest issue with Tri-color is that Ultra Signals have absolutely no counterplay. Once it happens the defense can do nothing, but cry about it, but what if the defense could abandon defending and start being aggressive? This would leave the precious center of the map open, but because it's turf war, this could be the exact push needed to win. The offense will need to actually pay attention to flanks as an open base is a lot of turf to give up.

Ultra Signals should not turf the base to allow the strategy to be viable. It will still be difficult to pull off with Ultra Signals existing, but the important thing is that this gives defenders something to do and it gives the offense something to lose instead of everything to gain.

The two stages used so far haven't quite done this. Hammerhead Bridge completely walled off the defending team so once they lost one Ultra Signal they were practically screwed. Sturgeon Shipyard somewhat allowed the defense to get into bases, but the Ultra Signals could also ink the base. (Plus, the spawn points for the defense were awful).

In the future, Splatoon devs really need to take a look at their stage design as that influences their modes the most. Tri-colors rules don't need to be changed to fix the mode. However, the stages MUST support the mode instead of work against it. This doesn't apply to just Tri-color, but all modes.

[biomechanical-magitech]

OKAY i'm no longer at work so i can actually explain myself

city of color: okay yeah fine this is a party song. bright neon lights in the city and we're having a good time etc etc. it's one of those party songs that's being sung direct to a person that's implied to have gone out partying with the singer though.

ink me up: this is the ONE squid sister original that i'd concede isn't about romance. it's also one of the few splatoon songs i'd accept being about playing splatoon, actually! the squid sisters made this song specifically to be played during splatfest. it's hyping up the players to do their best and fight well.

now or never!: this is a cover. the original isn't about romance, but that's unrelated.

calamari inkantation: this is a modern take on an old folk song. not a love song, and not an original, either!

maritime memory: this is just city of color but slower.

bomb rush blush: about trying to spend as much time with your crush (aka playing turf war w/ them) without admitting your feelings for them. throwing a bomb rush at them to distract from the fact that you're blushing. loooooots of battle/weapon puns.

tide goes out: the singer likes someone. the other person likes the singer. they're dancing around their interest in each other, and the singer is tired of it. they give an ultimatum: admit your feelings for them, or they're not gonna hold out for the other person (aka, reach out before the tide goes out). lots of nautical puns.

bomb rush blush (dj octavio ft. callie): the romantic overtones are reduced, leaving a frantic song about a girl feeling forced to fight and not being able to own up to her own hesitance.

tidal rush: the romantic overtones of tide goes out are reduced and the singer is given a more active role, becoming the one reaching out instead of waiting to be reached out to. the song becomes a duet between a girl who doesn't want to fight and another girl actively reaching out to the first.

fresh start: textually, this song is about getting back together with your ex. everyone with a brain understands it's actually about callie and marie reconciling.

wave goodbye: breakup song. it's extra sad because neither party was really wronged, but it just wasn't working out. something something staying friends with your ex but you can't date. it's better this way. i'll always miss you though

tomorrow's nostalgia today: you know that line in call me maybe that's like "before you came into my life i missed you so bad"? the exact opposite of that. this relationship feels like an old memory. it feels too good to be true. it feels like the sort of relationship you look back on years later and remember how good things were. i think i miss you already.

liquid sunshine (ft. iam bgm): pure fluffy romance. tooth rottingly lovey dovey. you are the light of my life. etc etc you get the idea.

i don’t remember when i decided that every squid sister song was a love song but i’m extremely correct about it

[shtern-and-art]

In The Dark – a cryptid AU about Bad and Skeppy – part 1.

All text is captioned under the cut!

BACKGROUND

Story is set somewhere in the 90s – neon colors and the brink of major improvements in lgbtq+ status at least in US.

The place we’re in is a small nameless town near the forest, and let’s say it’s the US, but in my mind it has an old European country feel to it too. At least in the small old towns like this. With old buildings, and paved roads, and steep roofs, and everything.

The forest is very dense and not much light gets in the deeper parts of it, so it’s called The Dark Forest which may sound quite unoriginal. But no one really calls it that. With how many weird things happen in that forest, among the locals, it is mostly referred to as “bad forest”. To the point that it’s basically the common name for it now.

SKEPPY

Skeppy is a Thing. A supernatural thing. The sort of thing that, unlike most spn things, hangs out around humans a lot. Socialized thing. Because, due to his spn nature, he has a compulsion/tendency (and desire) to create small mayhem and chaos around himself, disrupt communities. And also because he’s a changeling and initially was brought up by people.

But the way he is, he can’t stay living in one place/town for too long, always having to bounce before people clock him, or stuff gets too intense.

He’s name is still Zak, it’s the one his human parents gave him. However, he officially changed it to something different in all records after leaving home at 18, cuz names are important for creatures, and having his real one out there might be dangerous.

Generally, he still goes by Skeppy.

Skeppy can consciously do minor mimicry and illusions (by light bending)/cause light dissociation/confusion in people and creatures around him/do other minor mind tricking fae stuff.

He is drawn to nature and shiny things, although nature can be just a potted plant, and a shiny thing – anything from a gemstone to pieces of broken glass. Skeppy doesn’t know this yet, but I’m pretty sure he can find more valuable gems and metals by pure instinct. But he never explored it properly, and he just thinks that he likes collecting pretty rocks. Skeppy has at least 3 of them on himself at any time.

Evidently, he is not fully aware of everything about himself, and he didn’t have much contact with other creatures like him.

He is just. Living his life. Going from city to city, trying to have a good time.

THE STORY

Skeppy comes to a new little town near the forest. Forests are good for him, even if he still prefers to be around people.

And he’s just chilling, trying to settle in and shake things up a bit, roaming the woods to kick up old local rumors about a werewolf.

Speaking of, the town has a LOT of old rumors with the fleur of a little-town-near-the-woods creepiness to them. Like a werewolf, yeah, and crazy cults, and people making sacrifices in the woods, all that jazz.

But it’s all alright, all quiet now. All those things are always told by an uncle of a cousin of a grandpa’s friend, and, you know. Older people. Not a lot of townsfolk believe in these stories nowadays.

So Skeppy freely roams for a while: both the town, and the woods.

BACKGROUND

Local tree logging business is starting up again – twice removed cousin of the old owners brother’s son inherited the company. He’s fresh out of college, and came to bring Industry and Movement back to the little town he visited couple summers as a kid.

Some decades ago the wood export was what kept the town moving and bustling. It chipped away at the forest for many decades, bringing jobs and new people and everything.

But something happened back then, some shady business: perhaps money laundering gone wrong, or some out-of-town mafia dealings that came with the trades. That’s what the papers said at least. For a while, there were complaints of not safe work environment, and lawsuits flying, and rabid animal attacks happening on the outskirts of town (that’s where the werewolf rumors started).

But it’s been quite some time since then. It’s all settled now, old news, and the new generation doesn’t care much, and the twice removed cousin of the old owners brother’s son can start everything anew.

There’s hope and change in the air and the factories are getting upgraded.

THE STORY

So yeah, Skeppy roams the woods, and townspeople nowadays are starting to roam deeper in the woods too! Both because the woods came closer to the town again, and because people tend to… forget. Some young people, at least, who have nothing to remember or fear in the first place. Having all their hormones to fly, and baseball bats to swing, and beer cans to shoot.

The deeper woods are dark, there are a lot of good old trees in their prime time for logging, that make a lot of dark shadows to lurk in. And those are very nice for Skeppy, who can easily fuck with packs of teenagers and with elderly berry pickers. He can make them see things, and believe things, and prop up some fake cultist memorabilia on clearings and wolf fur in the bushes near the pass. And then he’d chat up the middle-aged workers at evenings, and watch it all unfold slowly, rumors spreading across town, giving Skeppy that little, small glow of joy, which that freaky, but harmless trickery always brings him.

It’s all going well and good, even better than expected! Even with that weird forest spirit Skeppy always felt lurking deeper in the woods. That thing was alright. Just there, watching. And Skeppy didn’t do anything too bad or disrespectful, he was pretty sure.

So, when the watching becomes following, and following becomes stalking and threatening, it… doesn’t feel right. Deep in the woods, deers and rabbits keep watching Skeppy’s back, and the trees are so tall it feels like the forest floor is the bottom of the ocean.

When stags stroll through the dark to you, carrying dead animals’ bodies on their antlers, that’s a pretty bad sign, right? Almost as bad as when the shadowy figure, that kept clop-clopping around you for the last couple of weeks, starts chasing you through the trees. And Skeppy just started setting up another “pagan ritual” site near the old berry picking trail!

Turns out, the forest spirit is a dang forest demon or something! And is also an asshole, who doesn’t want Skeppy (with his little True Detective stick figures and mayhem) on his territory.

(This is pretty much where the comic happens! And, yes, Skeppy also being a creature doesn’t mean much. Because Skeppy is too annoying, and too human-like to take seriously.)

So yeah, the Asshole In The Woods chases Skeppy out of them, but Skeppy doesn’t skip towns after that, oh no. He is a stubborn bitch, and he’s already settled, and he even found a small job… and unsettling and leaving is incredibly easy, yeah, but he DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. The Asshole In The Woods will see, he’ll understand. Skeppy is good at trick- well, talking himself out of trouble. Almost as good as he is at getting in it.

So, obviously, Skeppy keeps coming back to the woods whenever he can. And if the shadow demon asshole doesn’t come out to run him off immediately, he busts out his fake werewolf furs, props occult stick figures around, puts up tents like people were camping nearby, insults the trees, and duct tapes leaflets from local businesses on the them… Because irritating other creatures is just as fun as fucking shit up for people.

And this little turf-war settling is the most fun Skeppy had in a long, long while (possible death aside).

They meet up pretty regularly, getting various irritation and scare levels from each other. And the asshole shadow forest demon is creepy and all, but despite the big bad wolf attitude he never actually tries to kill or maim Skeppy. Or so it seems. So, it’s all going well. Yeah. Just better to lay off all the occult trolling, since it seems to make the forest asshole guy especially mad and uncomfortable.

(Basically this is the early trolling period, with Skeppy being annoying and pushing the boundaries, very close to how their videos of the time went).

And, again, Skeppy didn’t meet a lot of other cryptids, and the ones he found didn’t stick around for long. Because Skeppy is too much of a little shit, and “a low-tier human bootlicker”, anyway. So yeah, maybe Skeppy IS a little bit lonely. Been lonely for a while, now, hitchhiking around the country, never staying anywhere long enough to let people get that something is wrong in the air around him, or form any kind of lasting relationship. So what.

At least this asshole will not rat him out to anyone, or run away into the night with all Skeppy’s money. Probably.

So what’s the harm if sometimes they just argue instead of trying to one-up each other in magic trickery?.. Nothing bad will happen if, from time to time, they’ll just talk instead of shouting about who’s right and who should leave. It’s alright. It doesn’t even matter. No one in the town or spn world knows or cares about any of that. About both of them.

So they hang out more often. And if each time the forest asshole looks a little less scary, and more often takes his human-like shape, well. Maybe it’s just for convenience? Anyway, it’s easier to roll your eyes and turn your back on a fuming person, than a pissed off all-encompassing shadow, so Skeppy isn’t complaining. Especially if the person-shape is so nice to look at, too.

And Skeppy doesn’t know who exactly the forest asshole is, but in the town it’s always “bad forest this” and “bad forest that”. So, in Skeppy’s head, it becomes “Bad’s forest” – because he’s “the Bad in the Forest, heheh, get it, get it?”

Bad does get it. He isn’t as impressed as he should be by Skeppy’s genius puns and naming abilities though.

Speaking of Bad. He seems to be not really aware of what’s been going on in the town for the last couple decades. He tends to mostly hang out in the minds of forest animals, help them out a bit. Or nap. Nap a lot – days, weeks, years at a time, dissolved in the shadows. Unless someone (like can shooting teenagers, tree logging companies, or Skeppy) come around to bother his peaceful, dissociated, and at times even thoughtless existence.

Bad doesn’t mind though. Or so he says. The sleeping, that is. The people, them he really minds, people from the town especially. He really wants to be left alone by them. Discovering that Skeppy wasn’t from these parts of the country was one of the reasons Bad started to warm up to him.

The other major warm up was the first time Skeppy helped Bad scare off the messy annoying kids that were littering in the woods. But he convinced Bad to do it in a long winded, silly and fun (for them, not the kids :D) way. And after a while, teamed up like this, spooking and chasing people off, stopped being an irritating chore, and instead became something Bad looked forward to. Maybe even, put off his shadowy slumber for.

It’s been a long, long time since Bad actually wanted to stay awake like that. Wanted to do something, consciously, to talk to someone. That’s why he’s a “little rusty with all this communication thing”, he admits to Skeppy.

Bad never tells him how horribly bitter, and sad, and alone he was for years and years, huddled in the shadows. How he hid from that sadness, and from the people and their voices, and from the sound of their footsteps on the leaves. He ran away from them – in the soft, inhuman minds of the animals, and restless dreams, where his mind and sense of self stretched, and scattered across the forest, forgetting itself, and just living with all the living things. Of course, Bad doesn’t tell Skeppy about that. He always had his animals, and the secret springs, and little kids tying wishing charms on the branches of the old trees… Bad is fine. He just wants to be left alone.

Or at least wanted to. Because now, after staying awake for so long, it seems that he wants other things too. To troll snotty stuck up teens and kids. To learn more about new technology. To play with the shadows on the edges of clearings, and listen to the music player left behind by one of the kids he and Skeppy chased off.

And one day. One day sunbeams are dancing around the edge of the clearing deep in the woods, and Skeppy is lounging lazily in the grass, playing with his pretty glass shards, making light refract and reform through them, sending dozens of sun bunnies crawls and jump between the peaceful trees. That day Bad feels like his skin is warm, not cooled down by the shadows. And with that warmth – on his face, and in his chest – Bad finds that he can talk about it. That he can say it.

Bad tells Skeppy that back in the day, some decades ago (time is difficult for him to take note of)… that back then. He was a human. But he isn’t now, not anymore. Now he is part of the Forest. Kind of.

Because, see, something bad, really bad happened back then, and Bad got possessed by the, well. The spirit of the forest.

And he was living like this ever since.

Masterpost / first meeting /part 1 / part 2 / part 3

[cosmicredcadet]

hehe time for Macaque

more under the cut as usual!

OHHH Macaques got some fun little story with him in this AU. alright so all the shit from JTTW happens, yeah? Macaque’s show backstory happens - Macaque still hates Wukong but then suddenly Wukong just disappears. Macaque spends years and years looking for him - not because he’s worried or anything! okay, so maybe he’s a little worried - but only because he wanted to be the one to take down Wukong himself! after a while the final war happens, humanity goes extinct, ocean levels rise, and Wukong is still not found. Macaque assumes Wukong is dead as the end of the world basically just happened and for a while Macaque seems to be the only one who survived. at first he’s happy that Wukong is gone and he has the world to himself - but after a while that loneliness sets in and he finds himself actually missing Wukong.

Anyways the rise of Inklings happens and Macaque decides to have to fun with them instead of confronting his conflicting feelings about Wukong and the state of the world. The great turf war happens and Macaque plays both sides of the conflict before fleeing the scene when the Inklings win and force the octolings underground.

At some point Macaque makes his way underground and finds himself stuck in the deepsea metro with no way of getting out... or maybe there is? Tune in next time on the Splatoon Au - jkjkjk I swear I will get  to this at some point I’m just trying to not info dump a billion things on you guys -

But I had fun with Macaque’s design. I had the cool idea of his mask marking being bioluminescent as many deep sea fish have it and thought it was clever seeing as Macaque resides in the deepsea metro by the time the AU starts.

I didn’t really color his staff for this but it’s just kind of a plain staff tbh - he doesn’t really have anything fancy anymore.

[gojinka]

How dose the Judds fit in with this au?

Honestly did not except to get an ask about them! Judd plays a similar role as to canon as a turfwar judge, but lil’ Judd— as a result of wanting to rival Judd (not in the sense of sport turf war, but rather to better understand the politics and history and landscape of the world they now live in) — is more aware of agent work and usually is a step ahead of enemy movements before they happen. Because of this, they have an affinity towards business, and is more serious and less go-lucky. They are not directly malicious in intentions, per se, but they try and stick with the biggest fish in the sea in a typical business manner, and despite this works pretty well with those seeking information. Lil’Judd’s design is the same, save for the bowtie now resembling a business tie, and the suspenders pattern is gone, and they have two rings by his legs— intended to resemble as if they has them pulled off from their shoulders and around their waist.

Judd, on the other hand, is regarded as a wise elder due to his lifespan and is often seen as a leader, it’s a little hard to speak to him professional, part due to his (c)attitude, he can come across as very dope-y and unserious, but it is a result of living in a world that does it’s best to be colorful despite the political climate, he sees the world that has been built after the war as a victory in its self. He has a life vest. And is (in formal events) dressed in a montsuki, but often kicks it off, either by the end or if he gets too uncomfortable.

[wkemeup]

By Any Other Name (2)

series summary: When Special Agent Bucky Barnes is tasked with infiltrating the notorious gang Hydra and gathering evidence against its leader, Brock Rumlow, Bucky finds himself drawn to the woman who doesn’t seem to belong in this world of violence, the wife of the head of Hydra… you. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 6.7k warnings: descriptions of a controlling relationship, bucky is undercover as james, a wild peter appears, brock is an asshole 🌹series masterlist 🌹

“I thought I told you to keep these out of sight.”

Brock held up a copy of Jane Eyre, waving it around impatiently as you crossed the room to take it off his hands. You held the book close to your chest, brushing your hands along the fabric of the aged binding and took in the comforting scent of the pressed paper and ink. There was a slight aroma of aged brandy that burned in your nose and you looked down at the book to find a splash of Brock’s drink seeping into the cover of the near two century year old novel.

“Sorry,” you muttered, thumb brushing against the stain, a slight tremor in your voice. You turned to leave the room but Brock’s hand caught on the edge of your dress, grabbing a firm hold of the fabric and you stilled instantly. Your grasp on the book ached in your hands.

“You forgot something, baby.”

Muscles tensing, body clenching, you took a deep breath and pushed out a smile as you turned around to face him, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips. He tasted of cigar smoke and liquor despite the clear blue of the morning sky outside. You held onto the book pressed against your heart like it was a lifeline as he caged you with a hand gripped into your hair.

He let you go with a satisfied hum and you exhaled a breath of relief. He turned back to the papers on his lap without another thought to you and you quickly disappeared from the living room to return the book to its home.

Chills pressing bumps into your skin, you rushed down the hall until you found the sanctity of the library and closed the doors shut behind you. Leaning against the frame, you glanced down at the book, running a hand across the blue cover, tracing along silver lettering.

The stain had dried, a slight discoloration in the cover and you clenched your teeth so tightly it ached in the muscle. You set the book back on the shelve, squeezing it in amongst The Tales of Angria and Emma, your favorites in Bronte’s collection.

You stepped back from the shelf, admiring the precision of it, the colorings of the aged fabric of the covers and the intricately designed lettering on the bindings. It was beautiful; hundreds of years’ worth of knowledge and art and most brilliant creative works of humanity all gathered in a single room. Hundreds of thousands of dollars spent on these shelves. It was the only thing you put your time into these days; all that Brock would allow you access to the accounts for, so you didn’t get any… ideas.

You groaned, falling onto the couch and tucking your knees to your chest. A half empty cup of tea from the night before sat on the end table still seeping. There was a light ring forming under the cup, but you didn’t mind. It would add to the collection. Something about this place needed to feel imperfect and homey, unlike how polished and clinical as the rest of the mansion was.

It hadn’t always been this way, your relationship with Brock. You didn’t always feel so trapped in your own home, restricted to putting everything you had into a single outlet and spending your life locked away in a room your husband didn’t bother to ever step inside.

You had met Brock when you were a professor at Columbia in one of the cafes down by your office building. He had a charming kind of smile and was impossibly sweet for his stature and the scars littering his skin. He was easy to fall in love with and you supposed just about anyone would be if they were purposely catering every thought, feeling, and behavior to mold into what you wanted him to be.

He played the part of a loving boyfriend for nearly three years. You’d married quickly, with a short engagement, because he insisted he was just so in love that he couldn’t wait another second. You’d believed him because you were a girl who had grown up with an elusive father who spent more time in his office than at your recitals and scholarships ceremonies and poetry nights.

His disappointment in your love of the arts and literary fiction left a hole in your chest that Brock easily filled. Brock was the one who built the library in your shared home and encouraged you in your work at Columbia. He bragged incessantly about your accomplishments and joined you at every departmental fundraiser. He was perfect in every way, if only on paper.

Everything changed the night your father died and his millions were inherited to you, his only living child. Brock became distant and cold, and you had convinced yourself that he was grieving. He had been close with your father, after all, but the darkness never went away. He convinced you to transfer your inheritance to a joint account so he could take care of you, so you could take a step back and mourn without having to worry about paying bills and funeral costs and mortgages.

You never saw a penny of that money again.

It didn’t take long before you learned of Brock’s connections to Hydra, his apprenticeship under Alexander Pierce, and the crimes he committed in the dark cover of night when he slipped from your bed for nearly five years.

You supposed it was your own ignorance that let it go on for as long as it did or perhaps you were simply too naïve to see it, but Brock had held you down, tied and bound for years before you even felt the ropes.

You confronted him with the pieces you’d put together on his connection to the criminal world and he had threatened to turn you over to the police. It had been your money funneling Hydra and you were complicit, an accessory to every crime he’d committed and the blood money he’d made since.

He had you exactly where he wanted you; trapped, with nowhere to go, no friends or family to turn to. You hadn’t even realized how isolated you’d become until you were desperate to leave. He’d found a way to separate you from the last remaining friendships you’d had before you even knew they were gone.

So, you played the part of the doting wife. You did as he asked and kept up appearances when necessary. You went to his black tie events in expensive dresses and heels because it was what he demanded. You watched as he turned your father’s wealth into hundreds of millions of dollars through drug trafficking and weapons manufacturing, all while fighting off turf wars and ordering the executions of dozens of men.

He wanted you to conform to his life. He asked it of you every once in a while, for you to take your rightful place by his side and rule the city of New York together, but you told him to shove it. You wanted no part in the world he dragged you into, kept you locked away in by threat of extortion. He was a monster by your standards.

Your relationship with him was surface level. It was a political move to marry you, seeking out your father’s money. He’d forced you to step down from your position at Columbia, isolating you from the last remaining ties you had. He controlled every aspect of your life.

So, you kissed him when he asked, slept with him when he came onto you, because you were going through the motions. You kept yourself secluded to the one place that still managed to bring you joy; your library.

You were content. Numb, but content.

But something was different now. You couldn’t place what it was, but the unsettled need for more was returning to the surface and you were desperate to crawl your way out again.

A cool breeze swept in through the window, startling you out of your memories, and you shivered, turning to quickly close the draft as to not disturb the delicate temperatures needed to preserve the books. Locking the window shut, you turned and leaned against the wall, gazing out at the walled lined with countless novels, though your eyes kept falling back to a certain Bradbury novel with red flames intricately designed on the cover.

You sighed, grabbing your bag from the table and quickly made your way out to the car before Brock could notice you were gone.

***

You had the driver drop you off in Brooklyn, a few blocks off from the Queens border. It was part of your Sunday routine as much as you could manage to sneak away, to come into the softer side of the city and visit the shops and storefronts you’d frequented in your time before Brock.

You reveled in the feeling of the cold breeze against your every step, hands pressed into your pockets and nose tucking into a scarf when the chill started to bite.

You stopped in at your favorite bagel shop, the one with a few of the letters missing from the sign, and ordered your usual from the kind, middle-aged woman at the register. She smiled as she saw you, giving you a quick wave, as she finished up with the customer across the counter.

Stepping up to the counter, you took in a heavy breath of the fresh baked bread and the bacon sizzling on the table fryers. It was heaven in a shop.

“Hey, Mrs. Marselli,” you greeted, eyeing the order board though you had no intentions to change your mind, “I’ll take a—"

“Oh, don’t you worry, dear, I know it by heart,” she grinned, calling your order down to the last detail to her husband in the kitchen. You hadn’t changed your order in nearly three years and she winked at you. The bagel came only a few moments later wrapped up tight in tin foil.

“It smells amazing, as usual,” you grinned and slid a few extra dollars over the counter.

Mrs. Marselli picked up the cash and narrowed her eyes on it suspiciously. It wasn’t the first time you gave her more than what the bagel was worth. “This is too much, dear. I might need to send you back to school with my grandson!”

“Hmm, guess so,” you shrugged as you backed away, giving her no chance to hand you back the change and excess dollars. “Have a good day Mrs. Marselli! Tell Jim thanks for the bagel!”

“Will do, honey! Stay warm!

The next stop was down at the coffee joint on the corner of the block. It sat next to a Starbucks that usually had a line out the door, but you liked the family who ran Café Ramos and wanted to hear about whether Neftali’s son made the school musical.

The bell rang as you walked inside, a short blast of warm air pushing through the frame and you let out a sigh of relief and pulled the scarf down from your mouth. A messy mop of brown curls jumped up from the register where it looked like Mateo was trying to take a mid-morning nap.

“Y/n’s here!” Mateo shouted back to the kitchen, waving you over and quickly preparing your cup of hot warm. “What can I get you this time? We just got a gingerbread tea in time for the holidays? What about a chocolate lavender? Could always go apple caramel, too…”

“Whatever you think, Mateo,” you laughed, handing him the usual cost of the drink and told him to keep the change. He turned to grab a tea bag from the tin box with a small gingerbread drawing in brown crayon on the front label. “So, did you get the part of Bernardo or what? Don’t hold out on me, kid!”

“Who knows?” he sang with a huge grin, right in tune with the classic song ‘Something’s Coming’ straight from the West Side Story score. You squealed and gave him a high five, though he tried to play it cool. Most high school juniors did.

“That’s amazing, kid! I’m so happy for you,” you bit on your lip, trying to keep in your excitement. You’d known him since he was in elementary school and he talked nonstop of wanting to nab a lead in the high school play. This was his dream. “I want a ticket when you open, you hear me?”

Mateo’s cheeks flushed pink as he pressed the lid to your tea. “Bernardo doesn’t really sing a lot but I’ve got a lot of dance numbers and we all know the Sharks are way cooler than the Jets.”

“Well, count me in as team Shark,” you laughed, taking the tea as he handed it to you. It was piping hot but the smell was intoxicating. “Don’t forget to tell your mom I said thank you for the flowers she delivered to my aunt’s house last week. They were lovely.”

“Sure thing, Y/n!” Mateo called after you as you made your way to the door. He was a sweet kid.

There was as reason you looked forward to Sundays.

Most of the stops you made on your trips alone were filled with interactions like the sweet couple at the bagel joint and the Ramos family at the café, smiles and quick questions of how their day was going, but sometimes, you’d run into people on the street who recognized you for another reason, who knew of your connection to Rumlow and Hydra and they’d take one look at you before crossing the street or disappearing into an alleyway for an escape.

You clenched your jaw as it happened for the third time in only fifteen times.

This time, it was a young man, maybe in his college years with a dark purple bruise on his eye. He was walking with his head down, he almost didn’t notice you until he bumped hard enough into your shoulder to send you spiraling to the ground, trying to escape an oncoming biker who shouldn’t have been on the sidewalk in the first place.

The rest of your tea spilled to the sidewalk and the last bite of bagel was lost to the road. You only had a few sips of the tea anyway and it would give you a decent excuse to grab another on your way home, so it was no loss to you. Though, your tailbone would beg to differ.

“Oh shit! Sorry about tha–” The kid froze dead in his tracks when he finally got a look at you. He reached out quickly and pulled you to your feet, stepping away to give you distance.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” you said, trying to laugh it off but you recognized that petrified look in his eye. He almost certainly knew your husband you wondered what he part of Brock’s world he could possibly be involved in at an age so young. He didn’t seem to be hearing a word you said, so you tried again. “No harm done, kid. Really. I’m perfectly fi–”

“Please, ma’am, I wasn’t lookin’ where I was going,” he begged suddenly, hands shaking now as he glanced around the street nervously, like he was waiting for an attack. “Please, don’t tell Mr. Rumlow. I didn’t– I didn’t mean to–”

He didn’t even give you a chance to convince him that you’d never tell Brock something so trivial and that he had no reason to be afraid, but he bolted off before you could.

“Wait!” you called after him, but it was no use. He was already down the block, glancing back at you over his shoulder like he was running from enemy fire. A frown pushed at your lips, aching in your cheeks as you picked up the empty cup and the foil from the bagel.

Murmurs of bystanders hung in the air around you and you noticed an elderly couple whispering amongst themselves and pointing in your direction. They knew who you were and gossiped amongst themselves. You just hoped word didn’t get back to Brock, but still, these sorts of things always did.

***

When you finally made it to the bodega in Queens, you spotted your cousin sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, mindlessly scrolling through his phone, though his mess of brown hair popped up at every horn that blared in the streets, which was pretty often.

“Parker!”

Peter’s head snapped up in your direction, smiling bright in relief, and he jumped up from the sidewalk, rushing the rest of the way and crashing into you at the center of the crosswalk. His grip around you was tight and he nuzzled the cold of his nose into your shoulder.

“I was starting to think you weren’t gonna show,” he mumbled. Voice muffled as spoke against the lining of your coat. It was a rough time of year for the Parkers. The anniversary of his uncle’s death had just passed last week. You let him hang onto you longer than usual.

You chuckled, glancing around at the pedestrians as they sent you irritable glares in their efforts to step around the two of you. You ushered Peter back over to the sidewalk, not daring to pry his arms from around you.

“Come on, Pete, you know I’d call if I couldn’t come,” you reminded him. “Besides, someone has to keep an eye on you, huh?”

He laughed a little, pulling himself away from your embrace and nodded.

“What’s on our agenda for today?” you inquired, nudging his shoulder to pull that smile out of him again.

“Aunt May wanted me to deposit some checks,” Peter said, gesturing to the lump in his coat pocket. They must be condolences from the funeral. It was nearly five years ago now, but May had a hard time bringing herself to deposit them. Looked like Peter finally convinced her to let them go. “The banks out in Brooklyn though, and I know you just came from there so it’s okay if you don’t want to walk that f—”

“I don’t mind,” you replied with a shrug, hoping to ease some of his tension. “It’s a nice day and I’ve got time.”

That got him smiling, at least.

As you followed Peter along the sidewalks back to Brooklyn, you were relieved to find that he still had the energy to talk a mile a minute, telling you everything from how school has been, his progress on his latest project for the science fair, his escapades with his buddy Ned, and the kid named Flash who had some kind of vendetta against him.

“How’s Michelle?” you asked him suddenly. He nearly choked on air, coughing to alleviate his surprise and you laughed into your scarf, trying to hold it back for the sake of his ego.

“Oh, she’s—uh—she’s good,” he stuttered, chuckling nervously and running a hand through his hair. “I was thinking I might try and find this necklace for her, actually. She really likes the Black Dalilah. You know, like the murder?”

You raised an eyebrow, listening intently as Peter explained and you couldn’t help but feel grateful you weren’t in high school anymore. All these rules about how to interact with everyone and constant pressure to say the right thing. It was exhausting. Though, if you were honest with yourself, your life wasn’t much different now as it was then.

“What about you? How are things with Brock?”

You blinked a few times, surprised to look up and find you were a few blocks past where you’d last checked. You brushed a hand through your hair, shaking out the knots.

“Oh, you know, same as usual,” you said, not willing to give Peter any more detail than he needed. He knew nothing of the underground world your husband operated in and you planned to keep it that way. As far as Peter knew, Brock was the owner of a dance club in midtown. Nothing more.

There was an ache in your voice though, a slight sort of tremble that Peter usually picked up on though he didn’t force it. You felt his eyes as he glanced over at you, hands tucked into his pockets and shoulders hunched up by his ears to hide from the cold, trying to find evidence of your hurt upon your face. Your eyes were downcast, lips pressed to a frown.

He’d seen the change in you after your father died and he had thought it was grief, even for a man who wasn’t around much to begin with. He had tried to give you space but even you knew you had lost pieces of yourself that never healed again and it wasn’t because of your father.

“Come on, kid,” you huffed, swatting at his arm enough to trip him a few steps and get him laughing again, “I’ll race you to the bank.”

It was only two blocks away and you were on back alleys with minimal traffic anyway. It was something you used to do when you were younger and you’d be the one watching him after school. It was all you could do to get the energy out of the little pest.

“What do I get if I beat you?”

“Pride, Peter.”

“How about donuts from McQueen’s?” he pressed, grabbing tight to your elbow and bringing you to an abrupt stop. Alright – so he was serious now.

You narrowed your eyes. “Fine. When I win, I want churros from the street vender across the block.”

“Done.”

***

An hour later you dropped Peter off back at Aunt May’s there was sweet sticky residue of cinnamon sugar on your fingers as you waved goodbye. You pulled the second churro from your bag, half eaten, and bit down on it with a triumphant smile.

Peter laughed, shaking his head as he brushed past Aunt May and slipped inside the house. She waved at you, leaning against the frame, reminding you to not be such a stranger, before you made your way home.

It had been a while since you’d spent time with Aunt May, especially after Uncle Ben passed. Hell, it had been a while since you’d spent time with anyone, really. You worked hard to keep Peter and Aunt May out of Brock’s world.

You never told him when you met up with Peter on the Sundays you were able to slip out of the house, giving excuses of your errands in Brooklyn and spending time reading in the park. He never questioned you, never thought that you would lie to him because he thought you to be feeble and submissive.

He confused you for the character in which you played for him. You weren’t the only one who could be fooled by someone who was supposed to love them.

You sighed as you pushed your way into the front door of the home, the chill of the inside no warmer than the flutter of snow falling outside. You reluctantly unwrapped your scarf, hung your coat, and eyed the emptiness of the living room. There was a loneliness in this home you were never quite able to shake, even in the moments Brock was around. It was never his company you craved.

A chill swept up your spine and you tugged your cardigan across your chest. Hoping there might be something in the kitchen you could throw together to make soup, you kicked off your shoes by the door and scurried your way across the living room. Hell, you’d even settle for a cup of tea and a PB&J if it was all you had.

Humming to yourself, you didn’t notice the murmured voices beyond the door as you pushed your way inside.

You froze in your tracks, nearly stumbling over your feet to find Brock and a few men in suits you didn’t recognize sitting around the table, eyes all trained on you.

James stood in the corner of the room, observing, and if you hadn’t already known what he did for your husband, you would have thought he was out of place.

Even the limited interactions you had with him had been decent, kind almost, and certainly nothing like the rest of the men your husband kept under his payroll. He nodded at you in acknowledgement, hands clasped behind his back. It was subtle, but it was there. It was more than any other Hydra members offered you.

Brock’s jaw was clenched when you finally dared to look in his direction, a silent warning for you to leave the room, but you huffed, letting the door close behind you as you made your way to the stove and turned on the top right burner. You usually had a bit more defiance in you after your time with Peter. He reminded you of who you used to be.

“Gentlemen, this is my wife,” Brock announced, forced smile and tight in his tone. He never offered your name, like withholding it was another lock he kept you under; dehumanized and alone.

You could hear the murmurs of approval from his business associates as you put a pot on the stove. Just as you were reaching for a can of broth from the pantry, Brock cleared his throat. You gritted your teeth and turned to face him.

“Why don’t you let Clara make something for you, baby?”

He wasn’t asking to be kind. He wanted you gone.

Clara quickly stepped in from the adjoining room, a sweet woman in her early seventies who had been working for the Rumlow family for decades and put up with far more than she should. You shook your head at her, offering a small smile as you held up your hand.

“I can manage just fine, thanks,” you replied.

“Baby,” Brock urged, the threatening nature of his voice masked under the pet name you despised, “we’re in the middle of a very important meeting.”

“You’re also in the middle of the kitchen and I’m hungry,” you snapped back, pleased by the flash of shock on his face. “You have a thousand other rooms in this house, you can’t go anywhere else?”

You’d come to regret that jab later, but the satisfaction of the way his forced smile faded down into an aggravated frown was too sweet to resist. As you turned back to the stove, you spotted James in the corner attempting to suppress a smile, though he quickly pushed it aside when Brock called his name.

“Karpov, please escort my wife somewhere she’ll be more comfortable. I’ll have Clara bring her dinner when it’s ready.”

James nodded, stern features replacing the softness of the smile and he stepped forward, gesturing for you to follow.

“You can’t be serious,” you gaped, glancing at James before you turned back to Brock.

You weren’t a child and you didn’t need to be treated as such, but with the look on Brock’s face, the redness burning in patches on his neck and the glare in his eyes as he stared you down, warning you to shut your damn mouth, and you silenced immediately.

You’d seen that look before. It wasn’t one you enjoyed being on the receiving end of.

“Ma’am, please come with me,” James requested, voice low, soft, and he placed a hand on your arm to lead you away but you yanked it from his grasp harsher than you intended.

It wasn’t him you were angry with but he was just as much a part of Hydra’s world as your husband was. He chose this life. You were forced into it. It didn’t matter how sweet and gentle he was, or the fact that he seemed to care about your books or your wellbeing. He was still a man following orders.

Frustration was etching in your skin, leaving you feeling antsy and shaken, but you stood your ground. You met Brock’s eye from across the room, a challenge of wills between you.

“Don’t make me ask again,” Brock growled, slowly standing from his position.

It was then you felt another soft touch on the mid of your shoulder blades. Gentle, guiding, and entirely unlike the hands of his men before who had yanked you from the room with a firm grasp around your wrist that left red marks and aching. You turned to find James watching you carefully, offering a nod in encouragement, and you shivered away from his fingertips.

His hand fell immediately and he made no efforts to touch you again.

You glanced back at your husband, and then to Clara who had already starting preparing the soup with the ingredients you had taken out of the pantry. With a roll of your eyes, you turned on your heels and stormed out of the kitchen, leaving Brock with a satisfied, prideful smirk you’d come to loath.

“Keep an eye on her, Karpov,” Brock called out to James and you turned your shoulder to find him following you into the living room.

There was an apologetic look about him, with his hands stuffed into his pockets and his hair falling down into his face. He offered you a tight-lipped smile despite the hardened frown on your face, and it only seemed to add to the confusion he elicited in you.

“I don’t need a babysitter, just so you know,” you said, arms folded over your chest as you leaned against the back of the couch.

“Oh, I am fully aware,” James nodded, a slight chuckle escaping him. “Think you can do me a favor and let me stick around for a bit though? Just so I don’t piss off the boss?”

You laughed despite yourself. The tension quickly fading from your shoulders and your arms unfolded from your chest. Hands gripping at the suede fabric of the couch, you turned to see James smiling at you. It was bright, leaving dimples on his cheeks and wrinkles by his eyes. He was really quite beautiful if you stopped and let yourself think so, which you did not.

“I suppose I can be fine with that.“

A silence took over for a moment and he shifted in his stance. He didn’t care for the quiet, you noticed, watching the way his eyes glanced down to his watch and he started to tap his toe against the hardwood floors. It took you a few years, but you’d come to savor the silent moment likes these. They meant you were alone, out of Brock and Hydra’s reach. They were a blanket of warmth and safety.

James seemed to find them unsettling.

“I actually have something for you,” he said suddenly, a slight jolt in his body as the realization came back to him and he quickly made his way to a black backpack sitting in the corner of the living room.

You narrowed your eyes on him, wondering what your husband’s enforcer could possibly have in that bag. You watched as he dug around the inside and tried to steal a glance over his shoulder when he stood up abruptly with a sudden nervous energy about him.

He didn’t say anything as he extended his hand to you; in his grasp was a copy of A Farewell to Arms.

You swallowed, stilling immediately, as you stared at it for a moment, giving yourself just a moment to process exactly what this was before your eyes trailed up to his.

He was swaying on his feet and it surprised you to watch a man who had been hired by your husband, to have dozens of pounds of muscle on his frame, and standing at six feet tall to be so nervous. You carefully took the book from his hands, running your fingers along the print of the title before you flipped through the pages.

It was faded on the cover and the binding was near in pieces from over stretching and cracking down the middle with use, but it was still readable, even with the ring of coffee stained on the first page of chapter one. The back cover had a high school library sticker adhered to the page that looked like it had been picked at relentlessly, though it won out in the end.

Worn over the years of being passed from student to student until ultimately James took it home and kept it more than a decade ago. It was a relic. A memory. It was perfect in every way and suddenly there was a lump in your throat you couldn’t quite explain. It had been years since you’d known kindness like this inside this home.

You had Peter and Aunt May, but they were like treasured secrets; ones you kept at the furthest distance from Brock as you could. This – this book in your hands – was something else entirely. You couldn’t remember the last time Brock brought you something simply because it reminded him of you.

James managed to make your heart ache and your stomach twist all at once, and you’d only known him a few weeks. You were at a complete loss.

“I know it’s not a first edition but,” he stumbled nervously, scratching at the back of his neck, “it was one of the few classics I liked back in high school. It’s, uh, seen some things… clearly.”

He chuckled anxiously, gesturing to the worn-down binding, and after a moment of what seemed to be pure shock, you tugged the book to your chest, hugging it close to your heart. A smile lit up your face, sparkling like gold and glitter and magic in your eyes. It was like a rush of heat in your veins and breath of fresh air.

“Do you want to see the library?” you asked suddenly and he seemed surprised by that as he raised an eyebrow, taking a step back. Now it was your turn to shift nervously on your feet as you stole a glance back over to the kitchen. “You know, if you’re stuck with me for a little while?”

James smiled, the corners of his lips curving slowly into his cheeks, and he nodded.

You grinned, turning on your heels and allowing him to follow you. You kept the Hemingway classic close to your chest the entire walk and tried not to think of the implications of it or the fact that Brock never once took any interest in your books or that you’d only known James a few weeks and he already seemed to be more interested in your love of fiction than your husband ever was.

You pushed all those thoughts aside. At least, you tried to. James wasn’t making it exceptionally easy with the way he was stunned into near silence as you pushed open the heavy oak doors and led him inside your sanctuary.

“I know you said you saw it before, but–”

“Not like this,” he said with a heavy sigh, shaking his head in disbelief as he stepped inside.

You knew a forced smile when you saw it and the way James walked around the room, his hand trailing along the shelf and closely examining the titles and the intricate detailing in the woodwork, every ounce of the bewilderment on his face seemed to be entirely genuine. He paused at the end of the first row, chuckling to himself as he pulled out a novel you quickly realized was among your Bradbury collection.

Fahrenheit 451. The book he asked you about the second time you ever spoke to him. There were smiles in between, careful glances and slight nods of acknowledgment in a way none of Brock’s men ever offered to you before, but the first time he talked to you, really talked to you, without the presence of your husband, was the first time you’d laughed in that home in a long time.

“You can borrow it, if you like,” you offered, leaning against the shelf as you watched him flip open the pages, studying the near translucency of the paper and the sculpted gold framing of the font on the cover.

“Think I might be a bit too rough around the edges for something as delicate as this,” he replied and it made your stomach twist in knots with the way he laughed to himself. The feeling was so foreign to you, you almost didn’t recognize it. It had been years since anyone brought those kinds of butteries around.

“I don’t believe that’s true,” you shrugged, stepping closer. “There’s no use in having a library full of books you can’t read. It’s what they’re here for.”

“Not sure that applies to ones worth thousands of dollars,” he mumbled awkwardly, though he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the first page, like he had already started reading. His eyes were scanning the page, a slight curve of his lips as he read, and you swore your heart fluttered, but you shoved the feeling deep down because it wasn’t one you were allowed to have.

“It does, actually,” you countered and he looked up from the page to find you standing just a few feet away.

He sighed, clearly reluctant. His eyes trailed from the pages to your face, and back to the pages again. “Only if you’re sure.”

“I insist.”

You smiled at him and he closed the book, letting his hand fall to the side with the novel pressed to his hip. He nodded in appreciation.

“Guess it’s the least you could do now that I’ve gifted you such a relic,” he grinned, nodding to the novel in your hands nearly torn at the seams, with pages bending in the corners from unwanted moisture and cracks in the cover.

“Hey!” you laughed, swatting his arm playfully, “don’t knock my new favorite book.”

“Favorite, huh?”

Your cheeks hurt. Blushing and heart pounding. It was suddenly five years earlier and you weren’t tied down by rope and duty and bound to a home and husband you wanted nothing to do with. It felt like, for a short impossible moment, that maybe you could start again, maybe want something for yourself.

But James was just as much a part of Hydra as Brock was; maybe even more so because it was his hands carrying out orders. It didn’t matter that the soft hue of bright blue eyes and the sweetness in his smile seemed to contradict everything you knew about him. He was still Hydra.

Realizing you had been staring too long, standing too close, you quickly cleared your throat, stepping back and James let out a heavy sigh, looking just about everywhere around the room but at you.

A sudden knock at the door made you flinch, hand darting to your heart to hold you steady.

“Miss Y/n?” a voice called. Clara. You could smell the homemade soup from across the room.

“Just a moment,” you called back.

You were hidden behind an aisle of books, shielded by the abundance of thick covers and pages, hiding this stolen moment – or whatever it was. You glanced back at James nervously, a silent apology in your eyes and he seemed to understand immediately. It was time for him to leave.

He offered you a short smile, holding up the Bradbury novel in his hand with a slight nod of appreciation, before he quietly slipped from the library. Clara eyed him as he left, keeping a careful distance as she usually did when Brock’s employees were around. When you emerged from behind the row of shelves, she had already set up your tray on the coffee table, folding the napkin into a beautiful design.

“That one’s new around here, isn’t he?” she asked, referring to James, a slight tremor in her voice that came with age. She smiled at you, saying more between the lines, but you knew what she meant.

James didn’t seem to be anything like the other men Rumlow kept company with. He was kind, with bright eyes and a warm smile. He cared about your library and your novels without forcing his way through a conversation for the sake of politeness.

He brought you a book, one from his own home, one he kept since his school days and must have dug through old boxes for, simply because he thought it might make you smile.

He was genuine. It had been a long time since you’d known anything like that within the walls of this home.

And it terrified you.

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Like I’m Gonna Lose You

Pairings: Arthur Shelby x Gender Neutral!Reader 

Request:  Hi!! Sorry to bother, but I had a silly idea and i would like to read it but i suck at writing 💀💀💀💀 i don't know if you can/want to do it, but maybe for the future... Arthur is married (new character) and a bad guy tries to take and hut her. Tommy (Arthur too of course, but my idea was more of a in-law relationship) does anything to get her back because he likes her for his brother and when he does gets her back she understands that Tommy will always be there for her and vice versa. 

Warning: Violence and cussing but what’s new?

Word Count: 3900

____________________________________________

Tommy had actually always liked you, which was odd for the Shelby, who never really seemed to like anyone that wasn’t blood (and even they were questionable sometimes). When you’d come to Tommy, desperate for a job, he was hesitant to accept. If it weren’t for the fact that he was desperate for someone that wasn’t a known Blinder to help him trick someone for a job, he wouldn’t have hired you. As luck would have it, though, he did need that special someone and you were hired. 

Nobody had ever expected you to work out as well as you did. You were helpful, kind, and uncharacteristically positive for a Peaky Blinder but you were also tough and scrappy, a fighter, who was just bad enough to fit in. You (usually) stayed out of the cocaine and you didn’t cause unnecessary trouble around town. 

You had caught Arthur’s eye immediately. Unrecognized beauty glowed when you walked into the room. When you weren’t out on jobs with Tommy, you were at the shop running the books. Arthur had made it a point to stop by and talk to you several times a day, adorably nervous instead of his stern facade. 

When you started dating, there was an immediate noticeable change in Arthur. He was happier, drinking a lot less, and much less violent. All of these were issues you were well aware of prior to accepting his offer for a night out, but that was just it. You knew. It was no surprise if he showed up at your home slobbering drunk or with a busted eyebrow from a brawl (that he most likely started). It wasn’t that you condoned the behavior but you knew what you were getting into and how to handle him, whereas other potential partners weren’t. What surprised everyone though, was when his drinking became more moderate and social instead of throwing pint after pint back for the sake of numbness. He snuck cocaine much less often (though there were a few nights where you did it together…). Arthur’s violent tendencies became subdued and his rage seemed to dissipate drastically. 

Arthur Shelby was a happy man for the first time in his life.

Tommy was hesitant about your relationship at first, only seeing it as causing issues for the company. You’d proved yourself to be quite the valuable asset to Shelby Company Ltd. and he was convinced that a fall-out between you and Arthur would mean the loss of your aid. But he quickly realized that you were just what his brother needed- just crazy enough to have a good time and not be too naggy or uptight but still pushing him to improve himself for his own well-being. He actually couldn’t have pictured a better person for his older brother to wed. 

So when Tommy picked up the phone to hear Arthur seething with rage, he was already ready to end someone’s life. 

“They got ‘em, Tommy. They fucking got them!” Arthur was furious and Tommy could almost see his face, red with anger. 

“Wait, wait, wait. Who got who, Arthur?” The Blinders weren’t at war with anyone at the moment so he felt oblivious as to what was going on but tense for a possible new enemy. 

Arthur gripped the letter that he found nailed into the front door of your home and ripped it from the thick nail, “Some bastards callin’ themselves the Green Snakes took Y/N. I came home and found the ‘ouse trashed and a letter nailed to the door. I’m gonna fucking kill them, Tommy.” 

“Wait at the house. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Tommy slammed the phone down before rushing to his car, pocketing two guns on the way. 

Sure enough, ten minutes later, he was letting himself into yours and Arthur’s home. Arthur spun around and pointed a gun at the door as it opened, paranoid that the Green Snakes had returned but lowered the firearm when he saw it was Tommy. 

Like Arthur had described, the house was pretty trashed. The thin, long table off to the left right by the front door in the foyer was toppled over and the glass bowl that was on it was shattered in pieces across the ground. In the living room, a few wooden chairs were strewn around the room and the curtains had been torn down, now draped over the couch. But most notably, there was a blood stained knife on the ground as well as a trail of drops of blood leading out the door, and several smeared crimson handprints staining the cream-colored walls. It looked as if someone had been trying to hold onto the corners of the walls as someone dragged them away. 

Tommy turned to look at Arthur who was standing by the door. There was a moderate crack in dark green painted wood, split in the middle by an iron nail, at least three inches long. “Where’s the note?” Tommy asked, getting straight to the point. 

Arthur handed over the parchment to his brother. The paper was crinkled and torn at the top, most likely from Arthur crumbling it as it ripped it off the door. In somewhat sloppy black ink, the message was scrawled: We are rising to Snake your empire out from under you, Shelbys. It’s time someone brought you to your knees. You want them, come get them. 209 Milligan Ave.

“What the fuck is this, Tommy?” Arthur’s first thought had been that his brother had been conducting business with whoever these Green Snakes were behind everyone’s back. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten the whole family in trouble for the sake of his ego remaining intact. 

Tommy lowered the paper and did another scan of the room, “I don’t know. Arthur. I’ve never heard of the Green Snakes before but whoever they are, they’re messing with the wrong family.” 

Arthur watched his brother inspect the blood stains and ran his fingers through his messy hair, “Do you think it’s Y/N’s blood?” 

Tommy got close to the wall and squinted at one of the handprints, “I can’t say for sure but I have a feeling it’s not.” 

“Well I’m not gonna stand around speculating. I’m going to 209 Milligan Ave and I’m gonna fuckin’ slaughter every one of them.” Arthur threw his hat back on, palm just barely missing the concealed blade. He slid his gun into the holster beneath his coat and reached for the doorknob before Tommy stopped him. 

“Wait, brother.” 

Arthur paused and looked back, “‘m not wasting any time. Who knows what these Green Snakes are doing to ‘em?” 

“The last thing we need is a war, Arthur. We need to get in and get out as quietly as possible.” Tommy reached out for his brother’s arm but he pulled away. 

“A war?!” Arthur asked incredulously, “A fucking war? The love of my life is gone and you’re worried about some fucking turf war with a bunch of amateurs! I’m gonna go get them myself.” 

Arthur turned to go out the door, expecting Tommy to hold him back or tell him it was a trap, anything to keep him from leaving, but no protest ever came. Tommy only pulled out his car keys,  “I’ll drive.” 

** 

The day had been relatively quiet. You had business to do at home this particular morning so you’d arranged with Tommy that you’d just come in a few hours later than normal, which he was completely fine with. Arthur was… well he was supposed to be at the shop but knowing him, he was probably getting into trouble. 

It was nice to have the house to yourself. You loved Arthur but one of the things that had initially made you nervous about marrying him was that you’d never really have any private space again. Right now, though, you had a few hours to yourself so your favorite record was playing on the phonograph while you swept the floor, something that hadn’t been done in much longer than you’d like to admit. 

At first, you weren’t sure if you heard the knock on the front door over the music playing but when there was a second, louder knock, you knew for sure. You turned down the music and sighed, having a feeling it was probably John looking for his brother or something. Without any hesitation, you opened the door only to be shocked when three men you didn’t recognize stood there, “Oh, hello. Can I help you?” 

“You’re married to Arthur Shelby?” The one in the front, the leader of this pack, asked, twirling a toothpick between his teeth. 

Immediately, your guard went up and you moved the hand that was still concealed from view by the door over to grab the first hard thing you could find - a glass bowl on the small table by the door - and gripped it tightly. These men wouldn’t be here unless they were up to something suspicious or Arthur was dead, and you had a feeling from the way they sounded that it wasn’t the ladder. “Yeah.” You answered simply but firmly, showing you weren’t afraid of them. 

With a side glance to both of his men, the main guy nodded his head and, before you knew it, you were being rushed. You swung the glass bowl into the nearest one’s head, flinching away as the glass shattered in every direction. He fell with a grunt but the other one was already lunging towards you. You ducked and ran towards the main living area when you were grabbed around the waist. You thrashed and yelled, driving your elbow as hard as you could into his face. He dropped you, blood flowing down his face. 

Your feet hit the ground sloppily, your knees buckling a little from the sudden impact, but you made it to the kitchen nonetheless, frantically reaching for the first weapon-like object you could get your hands on, which just so happened to be a knife. When you turned around, the two men that had attacked you were already on their feet and coming towards you, blood running down both of their faces. The third one was nailing something to your door that you couldn’t make out. 

One of the men came at you from the front, tackling you to the ground when you overestimated just how much their weight you could support. Both of you landed with a thud but he was on his feet before you, dragging you towards him by the ankle. You kicked him harshly in the face with your free foot until he let go and you tried to crawl away, the knife still tight in your fist.

The other man tried to grab you by the hair but you sliced backwards blindly, slicing across his cheek in a fairly deep gash. He howled out in pain and let you go but not before his hands were back on you. You reached up and dug your nails into his freshly wounded flesh. He screamed out, kicking you to the side. Blood covered your hands and body and you were sure it looked like you must have just murdered someone. 

“Alright boys, quit playing games and just take ‘em already.” The leader demanded gruffly from the door, checking his watch. 

A bag was wrestled over your head from behind and when you reached up to try and tear it off, your hands were gripped and roughly tied up with rope in front of you. “Let me go!” You screamed as you were hoisted over one of the men’s shoulders, “I’ll fucking kill you!”

There was a wordless chuckle from the direction of the door as you thrashed about, trying to free yourself from the grip to no avail. You reached your bound hands out, blindly and desperately trying to cling to whatever leverage you could find. Your hands gripped one of the walls but no matter how hard you held onto it, the blood that covered your hands made your grip slip free. 

In a voice that imitated Arthur’s but was far from the original, the leader said, “By order of the Green fookin’ Snakes, the Peaky Blinders are no longer the kings of Birmingham.” 

** 

209 Milligan Ave was on the other end of Small Heath. The building didn’t look like much, just a single stand-alone brick building at the end of a foggy street. There weren’t any signs out front that established it as a place of business but it was definitely not a house either. There were a few other businesses around but this part of town was very clearly less populated than most other parts of the city. 

“This is probably a trap so stay ready. Stay alert.” Tommy warned his brother, though he knew he really didn’t have to. Arthur had been through worse than this. 

Arthur’s eyes were steadfast and unwavering, “I don’t fuckin’ care if it’s a trap. I just need Y/N back.” 

Tommy gave his older brother an insistent nod, “‘Ey, we’re going to get them back.” Arthur didn’t respond but he didn’t need to. 

Tommy walked up to the door and pushed it open without hesitation. Arthur followed close behind but it took everything in his power to not just pull the trigger on the first thing that moved but Tommy had insisted on a diplomatic approach first, mostly for the sake of them not killing you if they hadn’t already. 

The first room they walked into was large and open. Two doorways led to the back of the house but they couldn’t see anything back there. Tommy and Arthur didn’t need to look any further though. You were sitting in the middle of the room, arms tied behind the backrest of a wooden chair. Your legs too were bound to the wood legs of the seat and a cloth that looked none too clean was tied around your mouth as a gag. Hair stuck up messily around your head and blood coated your arms and face. 

Four men covered each corner of the room, leaning back casually but trying to be intimidating, like a cowboy leaning against the wall of a saloon. One more man, the one who had led your kidnapping, stood next to your chair. He looked to be about a rough thirty-five with sandy blonde hair and a work-worn face. 

Tommy could sense Arthur about to pop off and shoot everyone before saying a word so he spoke up before his brother could behave rashly. “You wanted us. You have us. What do you want?” Tommy demanded. 

“Eh, not ‘us.’ Just you, Thomas Shelby.” The blonde man said with a gruff cockney accent. 

Tommy shrugged his hands up in a vaguely exasperated motion, “Well here I am. Now let them go.” He nodded his head over to you, locking eyes with you. Everything will be okay, they seemed to tell you. He was relieved to see that your eyes weren’t broken but still fired up with rage and fear, just enough to fight your way out.

“C’mon, Tommy,” The man’s chest shook as he snorted, “Surely, as such a man of enterprise, you know that’s not how negotiations work.” 

“I don’t know who you think you are but this is no negotiation. I’ll ask one more time. Let. Y/N/. Go.” Tommy’s eyes were narrowed at the man. 

The signature toothpick that was between the blonde man’s teeth was plucked by his fingers tips and used to gesture, “The name’s Finnegan Bay and these are the Green Snakes.” He motioned to the four men around the room, “And we’re comin’ for the throat of the Peaky fookin’ Blinders.” He made his voice deeper as he jested about your gang and the way Arthur said it. 

Tommy’s cold, stern gaze was relentless and unyielding, the way it always was. It was predatory and threatening in a scarily unpredictable way. The man had no tells. He wore the same face when he was listening to a pleasant anecdote as he did when he was on the brink of killing someone.

“You really think you could take us down, eh? What? Some men from the factories wantin’ to feel like they’re somethin’ bigger than they are? Well, y’know what? You’re just that. Just some small men from the factories. Nothing more. You think cause you got some guns and a name that it means you’re something but you’re not.” He paused for just a moment for effect, “See, you’ve messed with my family. I’m gonna give you one chance to let them go before I kill each and every one of you. You can’t even imagine the things I’m capable of doing to you. I’ll make sure they never find your bodies. Now, this is last time I’m gonna tell you: let them go.” 

Finnegan reached down into his coat and pulled out a long knife. Your eyes widened as you watched him inspect the wide blade for just a moment before pointing it lazily at Tommy, “Y’see, it’s that right there. That attitude. The entitlement. The superiority complex. I think it’s time someone reminded Thomas Shelby of his place.” In a flash, he gripped your head from behind, palm smushing your face as he roughly pulled it back to expose your neck, holding the blade to your skin. 

You let out a muffled yell of shock and fear. Your heart raced in your chest and your stomach felt like it had butterflies, but more aggressive. Dragons? The sharp edge of the blade dug into the top few layers of skin, almost drawing blood but not quite. This wasn’t the first time you’d had a knife (or gun, for that matter) to your head but it never stopped being terrifying. 

Tommy sent a quick look over to his brother who had been standing there silently, seething with anger but obeying Thomas nonetheless. Arthur could almost predict not only the look but the succeeding actions as well after so many years of being in situations like this. 

Without even a pause after the blade made contact with your skin, Finnegan hit the ground dead. The loud bang from Tommy’s gun startled you and you flinched, the knife slicing just barely into your skin, finally drawing those drops of blood, but not nearly deep enough to cause actual life-risking damage. Blood splattered all over you as it flew from your captor’s chest, right where the first bullet landed. The knife slipped from the man’s limp hands and bounced off your leg before crashing on the floor. 

Just as soon as the first shot was fired, Tommy aimed his gun and shot the man in the far corner with the precision of a sniper before the other man could even process that Finnegan had been shot. Arthur turned and fired at the man behind him, hitting him in the side of the head. A few shots were fired from the men in the far left side and the back right side, both at Arthur and Tommy. 

You flinched, trying to make your body as small a target as you could to avoid the flying bullets but couldn’t get far with the rope holding you in place. Then you remembered the knife on the ground. The only way you could reach that would be to topple the chair and hope to goodness that your tied up hands could manage to grip the blade. The way your arms were tied around the back, though, would result in an arm breaking crash no matter which way you fell. 

Just as you were about to sike yourself up to deal with the pain and topple the chair, the gunfire ceased. At first, you were scared to look around and see who had fallen. A ceasefire either meant one team had one or everyone was dead and you weren’t sure you wanted to know either way. 

“Are you alright?” Tommy’s voice suddenly asked and you opened your eyes to see your husband and brother-in-law coming towards you quickly. 

You nodded, wishing you could speak if it weren’t for the damn gag. Arthur rushed to you and reached behind your head, untying the dirty cloth. The fabric fell from your mouth and you licked your lips a few times, your mouth agonizingly dry from being forced open for so long. 

Arthur inspected the areas on you that had blood, “Did you get shot? Did they hurt you?” 

You shook your head, arms coming to touch his face when Tommy cut your hands free, “No, no, no. I’m fine. I’m okay.” You almost were saying it to convince yourself more than anything. With the exception of the thin slice across your throat, you really were fine. Shaken up but alive. 

He helped you up and you shook out your arms, seeing the red burn around your wrists from the rope. Your biceps ached from where they’d been pressed against the wood so tightly and you were sure there were bruises on them beneath your shirt. 

Arthur’s arms wrapped around you like he’d never let you go. It was one of those “love you like I’m gonna lose you” moments where you both dropped any reserve or tough image that you usually held up and were just grateful for being blessed with each other. 

Tommy watched the two of you and almost smiled at the sight of seeing his brother so happy. Arthur really did deserve happiness; Tommy had always thought all of his brothers did.

You pulled away from Arthur and hugged Tommy. He was taken off guard for a moment, not usually one for physical affection, but wrapped his arms around your body in an awkward but sincere attempt at comforting you and acknowledging your appreciation. “Thank you.” He nodded, retracting his arms to regain his composure. Arthur came up to stand just beside you, his arm around your back, like he was scared to let you go again, though, of course, his face didn’t show it. 

“Yeah,” He acknowledged in his own laconic way, “Maybe we should get going before the cops show up. I’m sure the gunshots had a few people reaching for the phones.” Tommy adjusted his coat before heading out the door. 

You and Arthur followed closely behind and Tommy opened the door for you to get in, something he didn’t do for anyone except maybe a girl he was trying to coax under the sheets. Arthur helped you in and sat in the backseat with you, still not wanting to be away after the day’s events. 

There was a strange air in the car as Tommy drove you back to your home so you could clean up. Arthur kept his hand placed on your leg protectively, like you were his lifeline. Tommy’s silence wasn’t uncharacteristic but when you glanced up towards him, the two of you made eye contact in the rear view mirror. 

It lasted no more than a few seconds but the unspoken sentiment was clear and mutual. You were a true Shelby now and that meant that Tommy would do whatever it took to keep you alive. It was clear that you’d do the same for him as well, outside of what was expected as a member of the gang. 

Finding people to truly trust and love unconditionally in this life was difficult, whether it was family, friends, or spouses -  but you were finally that person. Arthur had found that love and security in you as a spouse and Tommy had found the same in you as your brother-in-law. For once, he felt that a small part of him could be happy because when he looked back and saw the way the deep, worrisome crinkles around Arthur’s eyes softened when he held you close, he knew that his brother had found something to live for. 

[my-various-aus]

An AU, where Angel’s mother is in Hell with the rest of her family; they’re just not aware of it.

Salvia (once known as Sophia) keeps her distance from her family, no longer wanting to be associated with them, after how Angel had been treated in life; she was devastated when he had been ‘lobotomized’ for being gay.

Due to her guilty feelings of not doing more to protect him in life, she also keeps her distance from Angel, staying in the Sloth district and watching him from afar, as best she can. She collects any and all pictures she can find of him modeling that aren’t too risqué; when Hell phones social media became a thing, she embraced it wholeheartedly, following Angel’s Voxtagram and collecting pictures from there.

That Cherri girl seems like such a good friend, too, and look at the little piggy!

In the Sloth district, Salvia works in Husk’s casino, mainly serving drinks and helping to kick some of the more unruly patrons out; she was a mafia boss’s wife, she knows how to handle so-called tough guys.

Nobody she works with is really aware that she’s a spider demon, as she keeps her extra arms retracted and covers her extra eyes with makeup. The less she resembles a spider, the less likely she is to be discovered by someone from her family.

It does break her heart a little that she’s not the exact same colors as the twins (as they did resemble her more than their father.)

When Charlie’s interview came up on the TV, she shocked a good number of her coworkers when she outright laughed when Charlie claimed Angel Dust had been behaving for two weeks, only to be contradicted by the turf war footage.

If it weren’t for her self-imposed exile from her son, she’d have gone to that hotel and given Charlie a piece of her mind, you don’t just tell people who your clients are just because you’re being mocked, have some integrity!

So, imagine her surprise, when, as she’s serving drinks at the table Husk is playing at, she goes from being in a bright and colorful casino, to a dreary, rundown hotel.

Salvia’s not too impressed with her boss’s boss, if she’s being honest.

Before either she or Husk can say anything about sending her back to the casino (since she just works for Husk and isn’t contracted to Alastor,) Charlie excitedly welcomes her to the hotel, Alastor has his little musical number, Pentious attacks the hotel and Alastor makes a show of getting rid of him.

Resigned to her (hopefully temporary) fate, Salvia actually bullies Alastor out of the kitchen (after making him fix it up, it was such a disaster!) in order to have some space from the others and have something to do with her hands.

Well, if anything, she can spend some time with her son, again…even if he doesn’t know who she is.