#because I do not actually speak yiddish other than a few words | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

beekeep · 2 years ago

Text

I’m going to take the time to engage you because you at least seem to be doing so in good faith.

to start, your definitions of indigeneity are missing a key factor, which is the actual material condition of the settler vs the indigenous person. regardless of historical ties of specific communities, the reality on the ground is that Jewish supremacy in Palestine inherently renders those participating in the Zionist project as colonists and the Palestinian victims as indigenous.

even without this, however, the point has been made by others that diasporic Jews have developed entire cultures and ways of living in new lands. The Babylonian Talmud, on which much of Jewish custom and tradition is based, was written in diaspora. Jewish culture as it developed in Europe is different in its customs and modes of living from the way it developed in South America (in my case, Mexico) or in Africa, etc. And none of those modes of living are compatible with the land of Palestine. Sure, there are communities who have been in Palestine for millennia, but that hardly renders every single Jew in the world a part of that community, and it certainly doesn’t grant any of us the right to take that land away from its inhabitants, nor does it mean we know what to do with the land.

not to mention it’s quite reductive to say the foods we eat or the clothes we wear are all traceable to that land (or that we’re in agreement over any of these things). My family eats large amounts of corn, especially during pesach when we can’t eat leavened bread. Corn didn’t exist in Palestine long ago, but it’s an important part of my diet and culture as I’m indigenous to Mexico. And those following the ashkenazic tradition might not agree that any of this is kosher for Passover.

Regarding the nonprofit you linked, they seem very cagey, the website gives very little information about the credentials of their staff or the actual politics of the organization. I’d be wary of taking their definition of indigeneity at face value.

I don’t speak Hebrew. I know very few Jews who do. Our liturgy is available in Hebrew but you’d be hard-pressed to find someone who actually understands it all without looking at the translations, and many reform synagogues have cut back significantly on Hebrew prayers. I speak Spanish and can understand Ladino. I also speak a few words of Yiddish. Im not sure what point you’re making in saying that our religion developed out of Canaan. Many religions developed out of that region, that doesn’t make every practitioner indigenous to that land. Would a Buddhist be indigenous to India?

Not everyone is indigenous to somewhere because, as noted in my original sources, indigeneity is about a relationship to the land and its cultivation.

I think you misread me if you believe I denied a historical connection to the land. Reread what I wrote and you’ll find I acknowledged it.

I encourage you to read through the sources and read my words more closely rather than say I made things up. I base what I say on scholarly sources, and I’m open to reading more scholarly perspectives on the matters.

Saw this post floating around, don’t wanna target anyone or argue with Zionists, but it is my duty (especially as an actually indigenous Jew) to educate well-meaning gentiles who might see this and think they have no right to speak on the matter. I’ll go point by point.

1) “Is it so terrible for a Jew to be a Zionist?”

If we were living in any other era, where the genocidal crimes of Israel were not as widely known (though they were very well documented), you could perhaps ask this question in sincerity. Many Jews (such as myself) grow up in religious educational settings which either fail to mention the human rights violations of the state or claim they’re justified because “they want to kill us!” Past a certain point, though, one can’t continue to claim ignorance of what Zionism actually does. Short answer: yes, it is terrible for anyone to claim to be a Zionist, but this will be more evident as I continue to analyze these arguments.

2) “Zionism is the belief in the inherent right of the Jewish people to return to their homeland”

First of all, Palestine is not the “homeland” of the Jewish people any more than Siberia is the homeland of indigenous american tribes. Is there a historical connection? Yes, but though assimilation and migration Jews have found homes across the world. For me, my homeland is Mexico, because my family has lived there for generations, partly through migration but mostly through having cultivated the land for millennia. Even biblically speaking, Palestine does not “belong” to the Jewish people, it belongs to G-d. Furthermore, there is no shortage of Jewish scholarship and activism that asserts that wherever we live, that is our homeland. Frankly, I’m more interested in fighting to stay where I am than fighting to force people out of their homes to accommodate me.

3) “Zionism is the belief in the Jewish right not to be murdered”

By murdering others instead? Once again, there is no shortage of Jewish scholarship and activism in favor of Jewish self defense where we live. Jewish resistance fighters lived and died fighting the nazis in Europe under the third reich. If Zionism was actually interested in preventing Jewish death, it would fight antisemitism where it is. “Preventing murder” is not an excuse to commit genocide.

4) “there are so many definitions of Zionism”

Sorry but I just think of this tweet from @jewdas on Twitter when I read this: “There’s a actual existing Zionism which practices apartheid and denial of human rights. But there’s another Zionism inside my head which is all rainbows and kosher marshmallows, so who can say which is the real Zionism?” In other words, the actual, material consequences of Zionist beliefs are more important than what any individual thinks their Zionism is. Once again, we live in the Information Age, where anyone can easily learn about the damage that Zionism has done in Palestine and abroad. There is no excuse to continue using the label that doesn’t presuppose complete ignorance of Israeli violence.

5) “zionists just want to be safe from antisemitism in the diaspora”

See points 3 & 4.

6) “and this is different from evangelical zionists”

Materially speaking, not really. Once again, see point 4. Until you pull all US/european colonial support for Israel, this claim falls flat.

7) “zionists just want to live peacefully with other indigenous people in the area”

That’s not what indigeneity is, it doesn’t mean “from there,” it’s a specific relationship to the land and to its cultivation. (On a side note, even biblically and historically speaking, Jews are not “from” Palestine.) See point 2. Zionism has proven it is not a peaceful ideology. See point 4.

8) “people refuse to see the difference in types of Zionism because they hate the Jews”

No, it’s because there are no material differences. See point 4. Evangelical Zionism and Jewish Zionism actually share quite a bit in common. The “Jewish state” would not exist without evangelical Zionists. See point 6. And the original Jewish Zionist thinkers had a vested interest in tying the two together.

tl;dr, Zionism is a violent ideology in practice, and no amount of making excuses can hide the fact that it is genocidal and serves European/American interests. Additionally, just because one is not Jewish does not mean one does not have a duty and an obligation to eliminate Zionism wherever it crops up. Zionism has had disastrous consequences for Palestinians, and as western citizens, we benefit from their suffering. It must end now. May Palestine be freed in our lifetimes.

15K notes · View notes

supercantaloupe · 4 years ago

Text

okay yeah actually, i’ll bite. i’ve got some of my own thoughts about the unsleeping city and cultural representation and i’m gonna make a post about them now, i guess. i’ll put it under a cut though because this post is gonna be long.

i wanna start by saying i love dimension 20 and i really really enjoy the unsleeping city. i look forward to watching new episodes every week, and getting hooked on d20 as a whole last summer really helped pull me out of a pandemic depression, and i’m grateful to have this cool show to be excited about and interested in and to have met so many cool people to talk about it with.

that being said, however, i think there is a risk run in representing any group of people/their culture when you have the kind of setting that tuc has. by which i mean, tuc is set in a real world with real people and real human cultures in it. unlike fantasy high or a crown of candy where everything is made up (even if rooted in real-world cultures), tuc is explicitly rooted in reality, and all of its diversity -- both the ups and downs that go with it. and especially set in new york of all places, one of the most densely, diversely populated cities on earth. the cast is 7 people; it’s great that those 7 people come from a variety of backgrounds and identities and all bring their own unique perspectives to the table, and it’s great that those people and the entire crew are generally conscious of themselves and desire to tell stories/represent perspectives ethically. but you simply cannot authentically represent every culture or every perspective in the world (or even just in a city) when your cast is 7 people. it’s an impossible task. this is inherent to the setting, and acknowledged by the cast, and by brennan especially, who has been on record saying how one of the exciting aspects of doing a campaign set in nyc is its diversity, the fact that no two new yorkers have the same perspective of new york. i think that’s a good thing -- but it does have its challenges too, clearly.

i’m not going to go into detail on the question of whether or not tuc’s presentation of asian and asian american culture is appropriative/offensive or not. first of all, i don’t feel like it’s 100% fair to judge the show completely yet, since it’s a prerecorded season and currently airing midseason, so i don’t yet know how things wrap up. secondly, i’m not asian or asian american. i can have my own opinions on that content in the show, but i think it’s worth more to hear actual asian and asian american voices on this specific aspect of the show. having an asian american cast member doesn’t automatically absolve the show of any criticisms with regard to asian american cultural representation/appropriation, whether those criticisms are made by dozens of viewers or only a handful of them. regardless, i don’t think it’s my place as someone who is not asian to speak with any authority on that issue, and i know for a fact that there are asian american viewers sharing their own opinions. their thoughts in this instance hold more water than mine, i think.

what i will comment on in more depth, though, is a personal frustration with tuc. i’m jewish; i’ve never really been shy about that fact on my page here. i’m not from new york, but i visit a few times a year (or i did before covid anyway, lol), and i have some family from nyc. nyc, to me, is a jewish city. and for good reason, since it’s home to one of the largest jewish populations of the country, and even the world, and aspects of jewish culture (including culinary, like bagels and pastrami, and linguistic, like the common use of yiddish words and phrases in english colloquial speech) are prevalent and celebrated among jews and goyim alike. when i think of nyc, i think of a jewish city; that’s not everybody’s new york, but that’s my new york, and thats plenty of other people’s new york too. so i do find myself slightly disappointed or frustrated in tuc for its, in my opinion, rather stark lack of jewish representation.

now, i’m not saying that one of the PCs should have been jewish, full stop. i love to headcanon iga as jewish even though canon does not support that interpretation, and i’m fine with that. she’s not my character. it’s possible that simply no one thought of playing a jewish character, i dunno. but also, and i can’t be sure about this, i’m willing to bet that none of the players really wanted to play a jewish character because they didn’t want to play a character of a marginalized culture they dont belong to in the interest of avoiding stereotyping or offensive representation/cultural appropriation. (i don’t know if any of the cast members are jewish, but i’m assuming not.) and the concern there is certainly appreciated; there’s not a ton of mainstream jewish rep out there, and often what we get is either “unlikeable overly conservative hassidic jew” or “jokes about their bar mitzvah/one-off joke about hanukkah and then their jewishness is never mentioned ever again,” which sucks. it would be really cool to see some more good casual jewish rep in a well-rounded, three-dimensional character in the main cast of a show! even if there are a couple of stumbles along the way -- nobody is perfect and no two jews have the same level of knowledge, dedication, and adherence to their culture.

but at the same time, i look at characters like iga and i really do long for a jewish character to be there. siobhan isn’t polish, yet she’s playing a characters whose identity as a polish immigrant to new york is very central to her story and arc. and part of me wonders why we can’t have the same for a jewish character. if not a PC, then why not an NPC? again, i’m jewish, and i am not native, but in my opinion i think the inclusion of jj is wonderful -- i think there are even fewer native main characters in mainstream media than there are jewish ones, and it’s great to see a native character who is both in touch with their culture as well as not being defined solely by their native-ness. to what extent does it count as��‘appropriative’ because brennan is a white dude? i dunno, but i’m like 99% sure they talked to sensitivity consultants to make sure the representation was as ethical as they could get it, and anyway, i can’t personally see and glaring missteps so far. but again, i’m not native, and if there are native viewers with their own opinions on jj, i’d be really interested in hearing them.

but getting back to the relative lack of jewish representation. it just...disappoints me that jewishness in new york is hardly ever even really mentioned? again, i know we’re only just over halfway through season 2, but also, we had a whole first season too. and it’s definitely not all bad. for example: willy! gd, i love willy so much. him being a golem of williamsburg makes me really really happy -- a jewish mythological creature animated from clay/mud (in this case bricks) to protect a jewish community (like that of williamsburg, a center for many of nyc’s jews) from threat. golem have so often been taken out of their original context and turned into evil monsters in fantasy settings, especially including dnd. (even within other seasons of d20! crush in fh being referred to as a “pavement golem” always rubbed me the wrong way, and i had hoped they’d learned better after tuc but in acoc they refer to another monster as a “corn golem” which just disappointed me all over again.) so the fact that tuc gets golems right makes my jewish heart very happy.

and yet...he doesn’t show up that much? sure, in s1, he’s very helpful when he does, but in s2 so far he shows up once and really does not say or do much of anything. he speaks with a lot more yiddish-influenced language than other characters, but if you didn’t know those words were specifically yiddish/jewish, you might not be able to otherwise clock the fact that willy is jewish. and while willy is a jewish mythological creature who is jewish in canon, he isn’t human. there are no other direct references to judaism, jewish characters, or jewish culture in the unsleeping city beyond him.

there are, in fact, two other canon jewish characters in tuc. but...here’s where i feel the most frustration, i think. the two canon jewish humans in tuc are stephen sondheim and robert moses. both of whom are real actual people, so it’s not like we can just pick and choose what their cultural backgrounds are. as much as i love stephen sondheim, i think there are inherent issues with including real world people as characters in a fictional setting, especially if they are from living/recent memory (sondheim is literally still alive), but anyway, sondheim and moses are both actual jewish people. from watching tuc alone you probably would not be able to guess that sondheim is jewish -- nothing from his character except name suggests it, and i wouldn’t even fault you for not thinking ‘sondheim’ is a jewish-sounding surname (and i dislike the idea/attitude/belief that you can tell who is or isn’t jewish by the sound of their name). and yeah, i’m not going to sit here and be like “brennan should have made sondheim more visibly jewish in canon!” because, like, he’s a real human being and it’s fucking weird to portray him in a way that isn’t as close to how he publicly presents himself, which is not in fact very identifiably jewish? i don’t know, this is what i mean by it’s inherently weird and arguably problematic to portray real living people as characters in a fictional setting, but i digress. sondheim’s jewish, even if you wouldn’t know it; not exactly a representation win.

and then there’s bob moses. you might be able to guess that he’s jewish from canon, actually. there’s the name, of course. but more insidious to me are the specifics of his villainy. greedy and powerhungry, a moneyman, a lich whose power is stored in a phylactery...it does kind of all add up to a Yikes from me. (in the stock market fight there’s a one-off line asking if he has green skin; it’s never really directly acknowledged or answered, but it made me really uncomfortable to hear at first and it’s stuck with me since viewing for the first time.) the issue for me here is that the most obviously jewish human character is the season’s bbeg, and his villainy is rooted in very antisemitic tropes and stereotypes.

i know this isn’t all brennan’s fault -- robert moses was a real ass person and he was in fact jewish, a powerhungry and greedy moneyman, a big giant racist asshole, etc. i’m not saying that jewish characters can’t be evil, and i’m not saying brennan should have tried to be like “this is my NPC robert christian he’s just like bob moses but instead he’s a goy so it’s okay” because...that would be fuckin weird bro. and bob moses was a real person who was jewish and really did do some heinous shit with his municipal power. i’m not necessarily saying brennan should have picked/created a different character to be the villain. i’m not even saying that he shouldn’t have made bob moses a lich (although, again, it doesn’t 100% sit right with me). but my point here is that bob moses is one of a grand total of three canon jewish characters in tuc, of which only two humans, of whom he is the one you’d most easily guess would be jewish and is the most influenced by antisemitic stereotypes/tropes. had there been more jewish representation in the show at all, even just some neutral jewish NPCs, this would not be as much of a problem as it is to me. but halfway through season 2, so far, this is literally all we get. and that bums me out.

listen, i really like tuc. i love d20. but the fact that it is set in a real world place with real world people does inherently raise challenges when it comes to ethical cultural representation. especially when the medium of the show is a game whose creatures, lore, and mechanics have been historically rooted in some questionable racial/cultural views. and dnd is making progress to correct some of those misguided views of older sourcebooks by updating them to more equitably reflect real world racial/cultural sensitivities; that’s a good thing! but these seasons, of course, were recorded before that. the game itself has some questionable cultural stuff baked into it, and that is (almost necessarily) going to be brought to the table in a campaign set in a real-world place filled with real-world people of diverse real-world cultures. the cast can have sensitivity consultants and empathy and the best intentions in the world, and they’ll still fuck up from time to time, that’s okay. your mileage may vary on whether or not it’s still worth sticking around with the show (or the fandom) through that. for me, it does not yet outweigh all the things i like about the show, and i’m gonna continue watching it. but it’s still very worth acknowledging that the cast is 7 people who cannot possibly hope to authentically or gracefully represent every culture in nyc. it’s an unfortunate limitation of the medium. yet it’s also still worthwhile to acknowledge and discuss the cultural representation as it is in the show -- both the goods and the bads, the ethically solid and the questionably appropriative -- and even to hold the creators accountable. (decently, though. i’m definitely not advocating anybody cyberbully brennan on twitter or whatever.) the show and its representation is far from perfect, but i also don’t think it ever could be. still, though, it could always be better, and there’s a worthwhile discussion to be had in the wheres, hows, and whys of that.

#sasha reviews #sasha speaks #the unsleeping city #unsleeping city #long post #dimension 20 #gd i stayed up way too late to write this #tuc #the unsleeping city chapter 2 #the unsleeping city 2 #tuc2 #antisemitism

155 notes · View notes

stillbandofbrothersthirsty · 4 years ago

Text

Rock Bottom

Joe Liebgott x OC

*Rated T for language and adult themes. (5,471 words)

“Have you guys seen that new girl?” Frank Perconte asked as he squeezed into a small seat along the dining table bench.

“What new girl?” Bill Guarnere asked through a bite of food.

“The new intelligence girl,” Frank said as means of explanation.

“She’s an intelligence officer?” Joe Liebgott asked.

“I heard she was with the OSS before this,” Pat Christensen added.

“I don’t think intelligence officer,” Frank pushed the food around on his plate, “but apparently she speaks like 20 languages.”

“No,” Joe said doubtfully, “no way, that’s so many.”

“Who knows? Once you know one language it’s easier to pick up others,” David Webster said.

Joe shot him an annoyed look.

“I think she’s from the Bronx too, Web.”

“Well hey, there ya go! There’s so many languages going around in the Bronx, she probably picked them up there. It’s so much easier to learn languages when you’re young ya-“

“Where’d you get all this info?” Bill cut David off.

“Luz.” Frank was barely intelligible with his mouth full.

“Hm,” Bill grunted. The information was likely true coming from George Luz, the kid had a way of finding things out.

Their formal introduction to the newest G-2 recruit occurred the next day prior to starting their classroom instruction. The men hadn’t expected the classroom time. They knew the forecast had predicted rain but they didn’t dare to hope Sobel would let them off just because of “a little water”. However, by eleven, the early morning drizzle had grown into a downpour that even Sobel didn’t want to be caught in. He relinquished his company to the instruction of basic compass and map reading.

“Gentleman,” Sobel addressed them dryly, his hands folded behind his back, “before we get started, I would like to introduce you to the newest member of the intelligence general staff.”

The men were gathered in a large tent propped up by recently constructed whitewood. Beside Sobel stood a woman dressed neatly in an army issued pencil skirt, jacket and tie.

“This is Valerie Marchetti, she will be working with the intelligence office as a linguist.”

“Told ya she knew like 20 languages,” Frank whispered to Joe.

“Italian!” Bill nudged Johnny Martin.

“Please make every effort to make her feel welcome,” Sobel finished unenthusiastically, “Alright, let's get started. Radio men, follow Ms. Marchetti.”

“Lucky!” Floyd Talbert clapped George on the shoulder as he stood up. George winked at him with a grin.

“So, what’s she like?” Floyd asked as they headed back to the barracks.

“Aw she’s an angel,” George enthused, “so sweet, and she knows her stuff too!”

“You’d think anyone that pretty was an angel, Luz,” Frank said.

“That,” George said, “is because angels are beautiful.”

But George wasn’t the only one over the moon to have a woman among them. All of the Toccoa men were eager for any chance to ogle Valerie. They were oversexed and grateful to have a beautiful woman in their midst, if only for the hope of earning a smile. Most of the men were limited in their interactions with her seeing as she was part of the intelligence general staff but somehow Bill really got to know her, and by extension, Johnny Martin did too. They became a trio on nights out. Bill jumping from group to group, socializing with all the men while the more mellow Johnny posted up at a table with Valerie.

“Does she actually know 20 languages?” Shifty asked Bill innocently.

“Nah, not actually twenty, but she knows quite a few. She’s damn smart!” Bill said taking a long drink of his beer.

“What languages does she know?” Joe asked.

“Italian, her pa’s Italian. Polish ‘cuz of her ma. Yiddish and I think her German’s okay too,” Bill listed.

Joe nodded thoughtfully, “not bad,” he admitted. “Not gonna be any use to us if we go to Japan though.”

Bill shrugged, “who knows where we’re goin’, they got her here for a reason.”

“Was she posted somewhere else before this?” Moe Alley asked.

“She was a code breaker! Can you believe that? So smart,” Bill shook his head in awe.

“Ya sound like you’re in love there, Bill,” Joe teased.

“God damn right, I love that girl. She’s great!”

Joe chuckled, she was a good looking dame that was for sure. Just his type: curvaceous, dark hair and warm eyes. He admired her just as much as every other guy in the bar. There were plenty of local women around, some of who Joe had gotten to know quite well, but there was something about that army pencil skirt that just did it for Joe.

“She gotta fella?” Joe heard himself asking.

“Why? You interested Joe?” Bill asked.

Joe shrugged, “just curious.”

Bill looked over his shoulder where Valerie sat smiling, her full lips painted a rich red. “I don’t think so, but I’ll tell ya what Joe, she’s not any ol’ dame. She’s a spicy one that’s for sure. She’ll tell you what’s what.”

Yeah, Joe found that out for himself the first time he experienced classroom instruction with Valerie Marchetti.

“Well, actually we’d actually refer to this group as the Allgemeine SS,” Valerie said.

“Deutsche Ausrüstungswerke is German Equipment factories so I don’t-“ Joe defended.

“Well yes, but it’s important to know that this is an armaments division under the SS, Allgemeine SS.”  “Are you sure? You said yourself you aren’t fluent in German, are you sure you’re translating-“

“Yes. I don’t speak fluent German but I know these terms and I know the organization of the SS. You would do well to listen to me, I know what I’m talking about.” Valerie snapped.

“Okay, calm down,” Joe threw his hands up.

Valerie sniffed at his gaslighting before spinning on her heel and walking away. After that it was game over, nothing about her was attractive to Joe any longer; not her silky, dark curls, not her full red lips, not the way the dark lines on her hose travelled seductively up her leg. He decided she was more trouble than she was worth.

A cheer rose up from the dart boards that Friday night where Bill, Johnny, and Bull were playing darts with Valerie. She was wearing trousers that night, which Joe found rather flattering. But he caught himself as his gaze travelled down from her waist, and quickly looked away.

“Okay, if I make this last one, drinks are on me.” Valerie bit her lip in concentration.

“Well now I kinda want you to win,” Bill said jovially.

“Ah!” The men around her cheered again as the dart hit another bullseye.

“Damn, how do you do it?” asked Don Malarkey in awe.

Valeria smiled coyly and shrugged. “Who needs a drink?” she asked to the men gathered.

“Nah, you can’t possibly cover all the drinks here,” Bill held up his hand in protest, a cigarette burning between his fingers.

“Don’t worry about it Bill, I pretty much owe everyone in here a drink anyways after the way they all tripped over themselves to buy me a drink when I first got here.”

The men sung her praises all the way up to the bar where Valerie instructed the tender to pour everyone in proximity a beer and to put it on her tab. She had come up right where Joe had been standing with Moe. Valerie glanced down at his nearly empty glass, “you need a beer Joe?” she asked.

“No thanks, still workin’ on this one.” Joe held up his glass.

“James?” Valerie asked Moe. He nodded appreciatively and accepted the drink even though his original glass held more than Joes.

“You sure Joe?” Valerie asked in a sing song voice. It grated on Joe’s nerves.

“I’m good, thank you though Valerie.” His dark eyes met hers. The piercing darkness of them sent a shiver down her spine and she abruptly looked away, blushing.

Joe was walking back from the latrine later that night when he heard some voices out in the dark, in the direction of HQ. The tone of the two male voices that carried on the air made Joe stand to alert. The speakers weren’t too loud, but there was a forcefulness to them. Then the voice of an agitated female broke through. A coldness rushed into Joe blood. He rushed towards the noise. He came upon two F company men who were walking on either side of Valerie. They were walking fast, the pace clearly set by Valerie who sped forward. The men kept in step with with her all while trying to box her in between their bodies.

“Hey!” Joe snapped, stopping them in their course, “what the hell is going on here?”

Joe looked at Valerie, a chilling look in her eyes: fear.

The men hardly seemed bothered by Joe’s presence. “We’re just making sure this young lady gets back to her quarters safely,” one said.

“Are you?” Joe asked, “do you even know her?”

“Sure we do,” the other said arrogantly, “mind your business pal.”

“Val, you know these guys?” Joe asked. Even with adrenaline coursing through his body he winced internally at his use of her nickname. He wasn’t familiar with her like that, why did he call her Val in that moment?

“Don’t worry about it Joe, I can take care of myself,” she said firmly, “I’m just right here,” she turned towards the main HQ building where she was posted up with the other few females. The men made to follow her into the darkness. Although it was only yards away, there were too many spots of darkness for Joe to feel comfortable letting those men follow her all the way up to her doorstep. Joe stepped in front of them, giving Valerie the time and space to disappear into the fold of the night.

“What’s your problem man?” one of the men snarled.

“It’s late, you’re just gonna have to accept you struck out tonight,” Joe sneered back.

The other man, who was significantly larger than Joe, took a menacing step forward. “She your girl or something?” he asked with narrow eyes.

“She’s no ones girl,” Joe said, and he turned away to head back to his barracks.

“Hey, you should’ve stayed out of it, guy.” Then Joe felt a hand on his collar spin him around before a fist made contact with his eye.

“Do you know what guys from F company?” Edward Tipper asked as he took in the blue and blackness that was beginning to come out around Joe’s eye socket.

Joe shrugged into his breakfast, “whatever, I’m not worried about it.”

“Those bastards,” Moe said, “we oughta give them what they deserve.”

“I said I’m not worried about it,” Joe said, “will you drop it?” His friends reluctantly sat back.

It was then Joe noticed Valerie standing a few feet away, a breakfast tray clutched in her hands. She was staring mournfully at the injuries he incurred. As soon as his eyes met hers she quickly walked to the table where Johnny sat, taking a place beside him and disappearing behind the figures of the Easy Company men she loved. Not Joe, he was not part of that group.

“Joe,” Valerie came up behind him as he was bussing his tray. He turned around to face her. Bags hung under her eyes but her signature red lipstick was applied flawlessly.

“Yeah?” he asked impassively.

“Um, I..” she hesitated, taking in his appearance. His jacket was unbuttoned, revealing his PT shirt. His dog tags hung heavy around his lean neck. His cheek bones were sharp, the top of the left one was split just slightly below where the blueness had spread to fill his entire eye socket. Valerie winced looking at him.

“I just want to say I appreciate you checking in on me last night,” Valerie began.

“Don’t mention,” Joe flicked his hand dismissively and began to walk away.

“But you didn’t need to, I feel bad, you’re eye, I would’ve been fine-“

Joe looked at her like she was crazy, “Valerie I saw how you looked last night, you knew it wasn’t goin’ in a good direction.”

“I was almost back to my quarters, I would’ve been fine,” she insisted.

Joe let out a sharp laugh, “why were you alone anyway? Walking in the dark?”

“It’s none of your business,” Valerie said.

“Wow, this is a hell of a thank you, Val,” Joe winced. Damn it, why did he keep using that nickname?

Valerie wrinkled her own nose in discomfort, “well thank you, but next time I got myself.”

“Valerie I wasn’t going to just leave you there!”  “You don’t need to worry about me! I can take care of myself,” she doubled down.

“God damn it, would you get over yourself?” Joe snapped. Valerie reeled back in momentary shock.

“Get over myself?”

“Those guys were trouble! We both know it!”

“Get over myself? What do you mean? You don’t trust me-“

“I don’t even know you, I would’ve done the same for any girl-“  “So because I’m a girl you don’t trust me to take care of myself?”

“It was two against one.”  “I’m a soldier same as you and you were prepared to take them on-“

“Don’t be ignorant, it’s diff-“

“Ignorant? Who’s calling who ignorant?”

“See, you just think you’re so much better than every-“

“I have to be better than everyone! I have to work twice as hard as everyone here!”

“In your cozy little intelligence office? Yeah, sure, try doing the stuff we have to do.”

“I have to train too! I’m strong!”  “But not strong enough to-“

“I am strong enough!”

“Look what those bastards did to me, you don’t think they would’ve done the same to you?”

“Well, maybe not, because like you said I’m just a girl.”

“Yeah well let me tell you that’s exactly why they could’ve done worse.”

“Do you just assume the worst of your compatriots?”  “Do you not? How dumb are you? I thought you were from the city!”  “You know what, just stay out of it next time Liebgott. I don’t want you getting injured on my behalf.” Valerie stormed away angrily.

“You’re welcome!”Joe shouted after her defiantly. “God damn it,” he cursed under his breath. He kicked a trash bin nearly kicking it over, “fuck this.”

Joe was still heated later that night when he finally retired to the barracks.

“Tough day, Joe?” Bull asked. A cigar hung from his mouth as he unlaced his boots.

“Little bit,” Joe eased down on his bed. His face throbbed where he had been hit. Bull looked up at him thoughtfully, “everything alright now?” he asked cryptically.

“All good, Bull,” Joe lay back on his cot exhaling.

“Not all good,” John Martin was suddenly standing over him, “you were fighting with Valerie?”

“Not really, it’s fine,” Joe draped an arm over his eyes, trying to block out the little light that filled their canvas living quarters.

“It better be, I heard you two shouting at each other earlier. What’d you do to deserve that?”

Joe sat up, “I didn’t do anything!”

John crossed his arms and eyed Joe suspiciously, “well, if she’s after you you probably deserve it.” He stalked off and Joe fell back onto his bed.

“She’s a tough one that Valerie,” Bull said.

“So I’ve heard,” Joe muttered.

“No shit from nobody,” Bull continued.

“You gotta point, Bull?” Joe snapped glaring at the guy in the bunk next to him.

Bull chewed on his cigar, carefully considering what he was going to say next, “it was good of you to look out for her. You did the right thing, Joe.”

Joe hadn’t expected that. He nodded at Bull then rolled over in his bunk. He didn’t know how much Bull knew, or what exactly he had heard through the grapevine, but Bull’s words meant more than he thought the would. Finally a little acknowledgment for preventing the crime he had seen coming. No matter how tough she was, there’s no stopping that when two men decide they’re going to do it.

Joe slid his arm under his pillow, trying to get comfortable. That’s when his hand grazed something hard and rectangular. From underneath his pillow he pulled out a chocolate bar. Wrapped around it, fastened with twine, was a note. In neat cursive were the words: You were right. Thank you for your help.

Joe couldn’t help but smile a little bit. Who the fuck was this woman.

She was a goddamn rule following narc when she wanted to be, that’s who she was. Joe and Moe may or may not have snuck out of the base one Tuesday night and gotten pissed at a nearby bar. They were too drunk to be cautious when they stumbled back onto base, their arms around each other, singing.

Valerie was walking along the well lit path to the women’s latrine when she ran into them.

“What are you guys doing?” she hissed confronting them.

“Hello sweetheart,” Moe slurred with a grin.

“Valerie!” Joe said enthusiastically, “wow thank you for the Hershey bar.”

Valerie flushed bright red, “you guys are being so loud! You’re going to get in trouble.” She looked them up and down, “how drunk are you?”  “Not drunk at all,” Moe shook his head.

Valerie wrinkled her nose, “sure smells like you are.”

“That’s rude Valerie,” Joe said jokingly.

“Yeah well you guys are going to get all of Easy in trouble tomorrow if you show up hungover.”

“We’ll be fine!” Moe waved his hand, “don’t worry about us, doll.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Valerie said sharply, “its the rest of the company you’re screwin’ over. Goodnight!” she walked off shaking her head.

“What a bitch,” Moe said off-handedly.

“She’s not a bitch,” Joe immediately snapped.

Moe swayed in place, grinning stupidly at his friend. “Whoa there, you’re not in love with her now too are you?”

Joe rolled his eyes and the men stumbled back to their barracks, now a little quieter.

He would never admit it after the way Valerie had confronted them, but waking up the next day was rough. Joe was determined to keep it together just to spite Valerie. He had muscled through the morning and was hoping for a moment of respite at lunch. But to his great misfortune, tuna casserole was being served. Joe’s stomach churned as he looked down into his plate. He was hungry but he was sure that the final remains of alcohol digesting inside of him would not be happy to share his stomach with this meal.

As he contemplated whether to eat or not, Joe felt eyes on him. He looked up to see Valerie’s sympathetic face from across the mess hall. She smiled at him tenderly at him and he immediately felt pathetic in her eyes. A irrational sense of anger flared up in him and he stabbed at the casserole with his fork. He brought a first big bite into his mouth all while maintaining eye contact with Valerie. The sympathetic smile dropped from her face as she watched his performance. She narrowed her eyes, her lip curling in disgust at his juvenile defiance.

After the meal ended she came up to him, her tray as empty as his was.

“Feeling alright, Joe?” she asked as sweet as syrup.

Perspiration was beginning to form on his forehead. He was not feeling alright, in fact he felt rather clammy. Moe had done the wise thing and only eaten his buttered bread. Joe was seriously regretting not doing the same.

“Feelin’ great, how’re you feeling, Valerie?” he asked obstinately.

“I’m feeling great too,” she said smugly, because she was, and he clearly was not even if he wasn’t admitting it. “Enjoy the rest of the day!” She sashayed off.

Luckily, the mess hall was mostly empty because as soon as she was out of sight, Joe dived for a nearby trashcan and regurgitated the lunch he had just consumed.

“Better out than in,” Moe said as means of comfort, looking equally washed up.

By the end of the week Joe was ready to go out again. Just as it happens to all young men, the short term memory of how he felt after a night of binge drinking had left him by that Saturday night. Having secured and successfully retained their weekend passes, Joe and his friends bought tickets to the dance that Saturday evening.

The majority of Easy Company had the same idea and they, along with the other companies of the 101st airborne, filled the local dance hall. Joe was having a pretty good time. Beer was flowing, the band was hopping, and there was an endless supply of beautiful women to dance with. Joe was taking a break from the dance floor when he spotted Valerie spinning across the room in the arms of a dark haired gentleman from another company.

“Look at her,” Edward said appreciatively from next to Joe.

“Who?” Joe asked, pretending not to know who his friend was referring to.

“I know you don’t like her much, but Valerie, she is a looker,” Edward whistled.

Joe scowled but allowed himself a moment to check Valerie out. She wore a slightly-outdated red belted dress. Little white flowers peppered the fabric from the hem to the shoulders where the cinched neckline generously revealed her delicate collarbones.

Joe cleared his throat, “yeah, but there’s lots of good lookin’ broads around tonight.”

Edward just shrugged and downed the rest of his beer before setting out for the dance floor again. Joe did his best to avoid Valerie. He distracted himself with drinks, jokes, and other beautiful women. Despite his best efforts Joe still found himself looking across the low lit dance floor directly into Valerie’s eyes when a version of Mood Indigo came on.

It wasn’t Valerie in his arms, it was another woman. A woman he hadn’t known long enough to truly enjoy the moody slow dance with. Valerie was in the arms of the same guy she’d been with all night and she did look like she was enjoying the dance. Joe realized she was enjoying it a lot more than he wanted her to be.

The glance they had shared had been brief, she had broken it off quickly to nestle her cheek against her fellas shoulder. But that short moment had stirred something in Joe. In the dark golden light of the numerous high-hanging light bulbs Valerie’s eyes had looked like melted amber. The shadows that flickered across the hall softened her face, giving it an ethereal look. She was breathtaking and Joe wanted to be the one with his arm around her waist. He wanted to be the one she leaned her cheek against. He felt an overwhelming unreasonable hatred for this random man he didn’t know simply because he was the one who held Valerie so close.

Once the song ended, Joe politely bid goodbye to his partner and made a beeline for Valerie. She stood talking to her partner and a few other guys Joe didn’t recognize. He approached their group stiffly, his hands in his pockets. Everyone looked surprised at his arrival, especially Valerie, who was obligated to introduce him considering she was the only one who really knew him.

After a quick nod to the group Joe said, ��Valerie can I talk to you?” Valerie’s brow furrowed in confusion but she politely excused herself. Joe lead her to an unoccupied side of the room near the door.

“Is something wrong?” Valerie asked, a fresh glass of champagne clutched in her perfectly manicured hands. Joe had no clue as to what he had wanted to say to her or what exactly he wanted from her. His goal had simply been to remove her from that man’s presence. In all honesty, he had no plan because he was confused on how exactly he considered her; was she a friend? An enemy? Or just another beautiful woman?

“Well, I just wanted to give you the option to dance with me,” he hesitated, watching her face for a reaction, “or one of the other Easy guys,” he added.

“Um, I’m alright, thank you, I’ve been happy dancing with-“ she gestured back at her partner.

“That guy? Psh,” Joe said dismissively, “guys a cement mixer, don’t you wanna dance with someone good?”

Red rose up in Valerie’s cheeks, “who? Like you?” she asked.

Joe shrugged, “anyone’s better than that fool.”

“You don’t even know him, Joe.”

Fair point, Joe thought, but he didn’t like the guy. “I can tell he’s a dip, just look at him!” Joe laughed.

“This is a really terrible way of asking me to dance with you!”

“Hey, I’m doin’ you a favor.”

“Me a favor? Could you be more full of yourself?”

“Me full of myself? What about you little miss perfect. I’m not the one walking around acting like you know everything.”

“I know more than you!” “See there you go, why do you gotta go around putting people down?”

“No one seems to have a problem with me except you!” Valerie shot back.

“Take it outside lovebirds,” an intoxicated private said as he passed them.

His interruption killed the argument between them. Instead they just stood glaring at each other, dark brown eyes meeting golden ones.   

Finally, Joe said, “come on, let’s dance.”

“You wish!” Valerie stomped on his foot.

Joe swallowed his curse, “fuck,” he said in a strangled a voice. Valerie turned to stalk away but Joe grabbed her elbow.

“Get off of me,” she hissed, trying her best not to make more of a scene than they already had.

“Come on.” Joe pulled her out the nearest door, throwing them both into the cool Georgian night. Now engulfed by darkness they were really free to fight it out.

“What the fuck was that for?” he demanded.

“Who do you think you are?” she shot back. “Interrupting my evening for what? Just to invite me on a pity dance? I don’t need your pity, I was enjoying myself quite a bit tonight until you started all this!” She threw her hands up in frustration. Some of the champagne from the glass still in her hand spilled over the side, onto her hand. “Ugh,” she exclaimed. She wiped her hand angrily on her dress.

Jealousy stabbed through Joe’s chest at her words. She had been enjoying herself with that guy. “What’s so special about that guy anyways? Didn’t you just meet him tonight?” he sneered.

Valerie opened her mouth to speak, then stopped. She closed it, examining him. A devilish smirk crossed her face, “oh is this what it’s about Joe? You jealous?”

  Yes. “No!” he said, “I just don’t know why you’re all moony over this guy. This is a social, not something you bring a date to.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Don’t believe me about what? This isn’t a place for dates? Not usually-”

“That you’re not jealous! What’s your problem Joe? If you’re interested in me just be a man and tell me.”

“Typical, you thinking that everyone has got to be in love with you.”

“Then tell me why you’re being so rude tonight! Either you’re jealous or you hate me.” Was there a third option? Because Joe felt like he was somewhere in between. He definitely didn’t like Valerie. She got under his skin like no one else. At the same time, there was a magnetism about her that kept drawing him in. Those eyes, those lips, even that temper. He wanted to grab her and kiss her just to shut her up.

“And if you hated me you wouldn’t be bothering with all this!”  Joe was barely even listening to her at this point.

He could feel his blood pumping; the adrenaline and anger mixing together to create a roar in ears that made it impossible to comprehend everything she was saying. He knew he was going to do it even as he counseled himself against it. He surprised himself with his sudden movement; he snatched her waist and pulled her into a hard kiss.

Immediately, she pushed him away. “What the hell!” she threw the remainder of her champagne in his face. Cooly, Joe wiped the liquid off his face with the sleeve.

“You told me to tell you!”

“Not like that!”

He stood glaring at her. She glared back, her now empty glass hanging pointlessly from her hand. There was nothing but silence between them, and the chirp of insects in the night sky. The faint sounds from the festivities inside filtered out but Joe and Valerie were completely in their own world, in a standoff.

Then suddenly, mutually, something shifted between them. Flaring rage turned to lust. Simultaneously they lunged for each other. Joe wrapped one arm around her waist, the other hungrily snaking up her thigh. Valerie’s fingers twisted in his hair, tugging at the thick, dark tendrils. He bit down on her lip as she pulled on his hair. Their kisses were messy and hungry; all the pent up anger and tension that had built up between them expressed in an intimate power struggle as they moved to devour each other.

“You drive me crazy,” Joe pulled away for breath.

Her lipstick was completely gone, its last traces staining her swollen mouth red. “I can’t stand you,” she retorted. He kissed her again, tangling her hand in her hair. Their pace slowed from the previous feverish speed to something more sensual without losing its fervor. Joe had her pressed against the building wall. His hands cupped her her jaw and slid down her throat. His mind was muddled with his detestation for this woman and the aching physical desire that was taking over him. She must have felt similarly as one hand pushed against his pelvis, as if warding him off, while the other dug fingernails into the nape of neck, forcing him in closer.

Once again they surfaced for air, this time taking time to really look at each other. The sound of their panting filled the space around them as her eyes searched his for some explanation.

“What’re we doing, Joe?” her voice was oddly vulnerable. Joe traced her jaw with a calloused thumb.

“I don’t know.” He pushed away from her and ran a hand through his tousled hair. Cold air entered the space where their bodies were previously connected. It sent a shiver through Valerie. “I don’t know,” Joe repeated.

He stepped back even further into the dark, his hand on his hips. He kicked a rock on the ground.

“You don’t like me,” Valerie said with the slight intonation of a question. Joe sucked his teeth. “And,” she continued slowly, “I don’t know if I like you.”

“I don’t know how I feel about you,” Joe said.

Valerie crossed her arms, her eyes bore into him. She was waiting for him to say something else, to offer a but. But it never came.

After a few unbearable minutes of silence she finally said, “I’m going back inside, Joe.” The patch of darkness he stood in was filled with a momentary field of light as she opened the door. Then, she was gone and Joe was alone in the darkness.

Joe did his best to avoid Valerie after that, but he felt her golden eyes on him in the mess hall. He wanted to provide her with answers, to tell her how he was feeling, but he didn’t know. He told himself there was a nothing to like about her - she was a pretentious kiss ass who seemed to have every guy wrapped around her finger. But he saw through her - he wasn’t going to fall for her like everyone else had.

Yet, she consumed his thoughts. All the pieces of love and hate swirled in his mind as he desperately tried to conceive a clear way to explain how he was feeling. He didn’t like her, but he might be falling in love with her. But even if he had realized this sooner, it still came too late.

In a matter of weeks she was stepping out with the dark haired guy she had hit it off with that night. He was a boring, strait laced guy, or at least that’s what Joe had gathered from Bill. The guys dullness was obvious. From what Joe witnessed, there was no fire between them. Not that it was his place to care, he reminded himself. Every time Joe saw them together he avoided her gaze. He knew he would see that look that was begging him to step in, to step up and interrupt this course she was on. But, as long as she was with this guy Joe had an excuse not to love her.

#hbo war #band of brothers #joe liebgott #joe liebgott x oc #fanfiction #BoB #hbo band of brothers #angst #heartbreak

34 notes · View notes

imaginesbymk · 4 years ago

Text

“Sweet as Cherry Pie.”

Peaky Blinders One Shot

Summary: Y/n is Alfie Solomons’ younger sister who comes to Camden town & Small Heath. Why? She’s their secret weapon: sassy, unpredictable and insults their enemies to filth. Or maybe she’s just bored and needed the first enemy she sees to throw a comment at. Either way, Alfie couldn’t ask for a better sister.

Pairing: ---

Tags: swearing, mentions of violence, weapons, drug & alcohol use, smoking + s4 spoilers

Word Count: 1755 words

Author’s Note: sksmsksks this is based off a dream i had one night. it isn’t the best piece i’ve written but i love a sassy reader. one shots are not open, this is just a one shot for my 800 follower special - [milestone masterlist]

“GOOD MORNING, Alfie.” Tommy said, walking down the distillery. Well, it wasn’t that much of a good morning for Tommy, really. In fact, even though he’s very productive and professional most times, this time the man wished he was back in bed where he could be exposed in his shirtless self, waking up to see his boy with that bright smile, sharing his eyes.

Normally, he’d be drowning in family meetings back in Small Heath, but the atmosphere in Camden town begged to differ.

“Meh, not really,” Alfie Solomons glances up at the window- the dusty, stained window pane gave in the overcast weather. He turns back to Tommy. “Mate, I’m glad we’re right on schedule. I was starting to think you got shot in your own fucking office chair back home.”

Tommy stared at the Jewish-English man, knowing Alfie was from Camden Town, how outsiders would speak ill of such towns and vice versa.

Alfie shuffles over using his cane as support and hands Tommy the tickets. “Those are the tickets to the boxing match. And in that storage unit behind you is the gateway to the clouds.”

“Kind of you. But you know I have booze at home, stored neatly and safely. I can manage without your rum.” Tommy walked in, anyway.

“I’m not giving you my rum for free, Tommy. I’m not even selling it to you,” Tommy watched as Alfie made his way to the other room of his bakery, ready to check on the AM workers as they got to work right away.

Tommy read the front labels of the bottle he picked up from one of the barrels. This man has gone a long way in his business, he couldn’t deny that. Over a hundred barrels have been shipped to God knows how many speakeasies were in Europe and America, and when Alfie Solomons received his earnings, he holds it tightly and proudly, guarding it as he cherishes his success.

Taking a bottle wouldn’t hurt, it would please him knowing he is interested in buying his product. He could even smell it from the sealed caps. He could smell it from the barrels, residue on the floor, or even from one of the workers’ breaths. He could pop it open and take a quick sniff like playing in snow. Tommy dug in his coat pockets, pulling out a stack.

“Oh, so you are fucking loaded.” Tommy whipped around, his gun already pulled from his holster, gripped and pointed to the voice inches behind him.

The person- the woman, didn’t react, not a small gasp at the sight of the barrel of the gun nearing her face. Boldly enough, she reached over and grabbed the stack of cash from Tommy’s hand and walked away, not even remotely thinking if the man she startled would pull the trigger with her back turned.

“Thanks, Mr. Shelby. And Alfie thanks you!” the female voice calls out.

Con artist? Someone posing as a worker? An enemy? Tommy breathed heavily, swearing left and right in his mind that he could of at least stopped whoever that was from taking his money, or yelled at her the way he usually does to anyone who worked for him because he was the boss. He was loaded, but no one would just allow someone to take a loan like that without anything afterwards, unless they were a clerk in a bank robbery.

After feeling like he was glued to the floor in that tiny space, Tommy rushed out to find Alfie back in his office with his glasses on his face, jotting notes down on a piece of paper, noticing the stack of cash sitting near the cup holder.

“Who the fuck just walked inside that storage unit and grabbed the stash right out my fucking hands?”

Tommy’s outburst of his question didn’t send Alfie into a panic. “You mean my dearest sister y/n?” Alfie got up from his seat. “She gave me the cash so I didn’t have to do it, but she didn’t even bid me a goodbye afterwards. She just plopped it on my desk and went her way. It’s not like I died or anything. I’m not fucking invisible, Tommy. You can see me, right?”

Tommy let out a long sigh, dreading that there’s not one but two migraine-stirring bastards named Solomons, it’s enough for one he already wishes to throw a beer bottle at some times, but now another one probably much worse than if described. “You have a sister, Alfie? You never said anything about having a sister.”

“Yeah. But don’t worry, she’s sweet as cherry pie,” Alfie nods. “I brought her here, but she’s pretty homesick, so I would bid her warm welcomes if I were you.”

“Why should I?” Tommy says, frowning. “She just took my fucking money.”

“Oh, for sure.” Alfie waves the loan in front of Tommy, reminding him that y/n is no thief. “And because she knows about the vendetta between you, the Peakys and the Italians. If they come to her, she’ll roar at them, literally.”

“WHO the fuck is this, now?” Arthur stared at the woman stood next to Tommy at the foot of the small dining room where old memories held of their past meetings and heartbreaks.

“This is Y/n Solomons. She’s our messenger.” Tommy wished he never had to say that. He wished she would stop touching his fucking stuff, too. “Y/n, put down my fucking frame.”

“Oh fuck,” Polly blew out smoke from her cigarette. “There’s two of them?”

“And what is wrong with my brother?” Y/n places the frame back down on the mantel. “He’s a successful businessman. He beat a man three fucking times his size to gravel after he called me fat.”

“Y/n Solomons is our messenger. She’s also helping with updates from Aberama Gold once we get Michael out of Birmingham for now, because Luca Changretta is still out there, and he’s fucking pissed.”

“You can very hot headed sometimes, Mr. Shelby.” Later the brief introduction of their newcomer in their recent meeting was long over, she stayed back even though she was dismissed to do her work. “It’s probably because you smoke so much cigarettes that you’re starting to look like an ashtray, or of that heavy out-dated coat you wear all the time just weighs you down that your back and shoulders must hurt like hell.”

“The fuck does that mean?” Tommy said, irritated by her presence, even her just standing there at the table.

“Nothing.” Y/n sighs and heads out the door. “You know where I’ll be!” she calls.

Sweet as cherry pie, my ass. Tommy grunts and lights a cigarette.

“WHAT’S the matter?” Luca Changretta asks. “I said we had a deal.”

“Ah, you just made a deal without negotiation, now did ya?” Y/n’s brother sat on the chair, staring up at the menacing mobster holding one of the rum bottles given as a gift. “Yeah, Tommy Shelby was right about you. You plan to kill us all.” He spoke in Yiddish, and he mocks a tsking sound.

Luca smirks down, even though he didn’t know what he said, at least they both were aware of one thing; Tommy knows what kind of man I am.

“Mr. Changretta, may I speak freely?” y/n chimes in.

The Italian shrugs. “Mr. Solomons, I checked my calendar earlier and I did not read anything about today being Take Your Kid to Work Day,” and he laughs, his cousin as his henchman behind laughing along with him.

“Mate, I’d choose my next words very carefully if I were you,” Alfie says, stifling a smile. “This is my baby sister you’re talking down to, and she won’t tolerate one bit of it.”

“And I should be afraid?”

“Perhaps less afraid, more self-conscious, Mr. Changretta,” y/n replies. “Just a few minutes ago I was sensing the stench of failure, but then I saw you and your men walk in.”

Luca chuckles sarcastically. “Ouch.”

“And it’s not like we’re having a showdown right here, you didn’t need to bring your men with you unless you’re doubling their pay for just standing silently. I mean, they’re as important as Tommy Shelby’s evening sous chef.”

“Who?” Alfie had to ask.

Y/n smirks. “Exactly. Anyways, I just need to tell you that my brother’s business isn’t for sale. Alfie has worked hard and I’m proud to be his sister, supporting him. I’ll drink his rum like it’s mother’s milk if I had to. So, let my brother handle your men at the match, and you’ll take care of the two hundred barrels to be shipped to New York. Simple.”

“What do you know about business, Miss Solomons?”

“What do you know about combat, Luca? If you didn’t lack the experience, Tommy Shelby’s blood would spill fresh on your hands as we speak. How are you a soldier for the mafia if you hadn’t accomplish the vendetta yet?”

“Well-”

“Actually, don’t answer that. I’ll fall asleep.” Y/n took a step forward, lowering her smile up as his height overpowered hers. “My brother isn’t asking for much. He’s a good friend of Tommy Shelby, yet he’s helping you. You should be kissing his feet, Mr. Changretta, not abusing his generosity.”

Luca chewed the matchstick in his mouth. “Is that so?” he looks back at his men. “Porca puttana.”

“Vaffanculo, right back at you, mate. You just earned yourself another tonne to your bill. Bring tissues for both your lawyer and accountant.” Y/n turns around and grins at her older brother, who smiled warmly at her the entire time, feeling as though he was proud. If the Peaky Blinders were here, they’d share the same reaction as Luca.

“So you both know Italian?” Luca asked as he sighs in exhaustion.

Alfie nods at Luca, who was glaring down at him for an answer. You learn from your older sibling, you become as tough as bullets and the big help as the messenger, sending a telephone call or a letter mailed to Small Heath, saying Luca Changretta is six feet tall, but shrunk four feet down when y/n opened her mouth.

“Take it or leave it, Signore.” The Italians didn’t even need to ask where this woman got her attitude from. If you’re a Solomon, there’s perks. Y/n smiles to herself, Tommy is gonna hate and love me.

“I warned you about my baby sister, mate.” Alfie says. “Sweet as cherry pie... but with broken glass once you bite into your first slice.”

—

tag list: @ladyxblake @lotsoffandomimagines @amirahiddleston @thethyri @woahitslucyylu @myriadimagines @fangirlsarah16 @your-pixels-are-showing @lucillethings @sirkekselord @kaetastic

#peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders #alfie solomons x sibling!reader #alfie solomons #fem!reader #reader insert #one shot #imagine

181 notes · View notes

sopxhiea · 4 years ago

Text

Dare

Alfie Solomons X Reader

| Prompt

“Could you come get me?”

“I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m a damsel doing damage.”

Warning: Blood. A lot of it.

This wasn’t bound to happen.

The grounds were quiet, the only breathing soul besides you had been shot a while ago. The wind blew against the fragile leaves, caressing them in a manner that certainly did not go with the scene before you.

You breathed in forcefully, feeling the cold stone base of the stair against your skin through your sheer dress. Inhaling once more, you shifted without realising. Your upper body was covered in blood, most of it someone else’s but the taste of it was the same when you’d shot the men.

A sigh escaped your lips, the want to scream resided somewhere deep in your now hollow chest while you stared at the situation before you.

Blood, three dead men laying on the ground next to the water fountain, an abandoned car, wind in your face as you wiped the dried blood off of your hands even though it didn’t help much.

Your hands were shaking as you sat on the cold stone again, getting up every now and then because you didn’t quite know what to do. It wasn’t fear that made you shake, it was adrenaline.

A man named John had called you in for a meeting, saying that he had some valuable information. It had been a bait and you knew it, that was why you had blades and small guns decorating your upper thighs if he tried to do something funny. And he had, he was now making his way down to hell, you assumed.

You looked into the building that was right behind you, it was a big mansion that had been abandoned a while ago. The want to escape urged you to stand up and walk inside, praying to the gods you heard people pray to so that you wouldn’t be dead soon.

A phone came into your vision, it was located outside of the back side. You lifted it up, it worked. There was a chuckle from you at the relief but it disappeared not too long after. You couldn’t call your assistant, he was out of town and you had already given him hell enough times.

You couldn’t call Thomas, he was busy with some bookies and the Italians. You knew he would hold it over your head for some time and being in debt of someone was not something you looked forward to. You sighed, shaking your head while going for the number of the bakery.

You didn’t want to call him.

You were covered in blood and dirt and had just killed two men. The other man was on your side but he’d been the sacrifice for you to stay alive. There was a wait on the other end before he picked up. You at cursed yourself internally for doing this but he was the only one you could rely on.

You had done business with him a couple times when you were around Camden. Tommy trusted him which made you trust him, he had proven to be reliable and a little too direct and stubborn but nothing you couldn’t deal with.

“‘ello?” he asked on the other end of the line for the third time. You pinched yourself to see if you were actually dead, you calling Alfie for help was something of a decoration of your nightmares. You’d wanted things to go differently.

“It’s me..” you whispered into the line, the cold getting under your skin while you held onto your now bloody coat. It was heavier due to the soaking of the fluid.

He recognised your voice instantly.

Feeding into his playful nature when it came to you, he was about to make a joke but your voice trembled under the clouded spring weather so he stopped. There was no response as you swallowed, hoping that this call wasn’t a mistake you were making due to the adrenaline in your system. You took a breath and spoke up after the long pause.

“Alf-”

“What the fuck happened?” he asked, you chuckled from the other end of the line.

Despite being a business associate he sometimes saw around, he knew you very well. You were of similar nature, there was a fire within you that had been moulded by sorrow and loneliness. Much like him, you also had to grow up fast and he knew of the ways of this cruel world and what it could do to an innocent youngling.

He knew you well.

“I....um..” you licked your lips as he waited for an answer.

You didn’t quite know how to proceed. You were not the one asking for help, you were usually the one offering to help. You had built a business of your own in between dirty faced gangsters and independence was all you craved. You didn’t ask for help, not from a friend or a jewish gangster.

“Could you come get me?” your airy voice filled his ear as he stared at the mountain of paperwork in front of him.

It didn’t matter, nothing did when it came to you.

He had spent many nights trying to bury your sweet face into the depths of his mind. You were everything he envisioned his dreams to be. He had done deals with people around just for the possibility of running into you. You’d spent many nights in his office, trying to finalise a deal you were trying to make with the man but he’d thought of it to be more than that.

You were poised, way too beautiful to be in this line of business and fragile underneath the tough exterior of sarcasm and wit you had. He was old enough to know that women like you didn’t stay until midnight in another man’s work place just because they needed to get a job done.

He nodded his head while speaking, jotting down the address you told him with a shaky voice, the adrenaline was getting to you. He knew of the abandoned house, it was a place marked with death and sketchy business deals but he ignored the skipping of his heart at the thought that something bad might’ve happened to you. He just put on his coat and shouted at Ollie to get the car ready.

The trees swayed calmly at the touch of the gentle wind, the breeze was much more calmer than what it seemed due to the cloudy weather. You were still sitting on the entrance step of the house, the cold stone had become warmer with your body heat as you stared at the road, the source of the voice becoming more obvious with the passing minutes.

You recognised his car but stayed where you are. You were sitting on the steps like a child with fabric on your hands but you didn’t look like one. There was blood all over your body, your dress and coat were soaked in it as you eyed Alfie’s approaching figure.

His eyes were wide, the breeze didn’t affect him in the slightest while he walked towards your much smaller form. You didn’t smile at the familiar man like you used to but waited for him to process the image before him instead.

He looked over at you first, worry evident in his eyes as his eyes adjusted to the layers of blood around your body. He opened his mouth to speak but his eyes landed on the three corpses scattered around the house instead. He could make out the things that had taken place but he didn’t want to ask you when you looked like you had been cast in a horror movie just a second ago.

“Pet, Are you alri-” he spoke but you stood up instead and cut him off. You needed to get home as soon as you could and you didn’t want the man to dote on you like he always did.

“I’m fine. Can we go?” you asked, not waiting for an answer and walking towards the car instead.

The driver was horrified which made you smile for the first time that day. Alfie caught you by your arm and made you face him in one swift motion before you could actually walk away. You scoffed at the action but he had the right to be curious. You were looking like a dead bride after all.

“What the fuck happened!” he asked, voice high as he looked at you with way too much focus. You chuckled, why was he so worried?

He knew what you were capable of, he’d seen you working on field before and that was enough reason for him to oblige to your words instead of questioning you but seeing as he was the rescuer in this situation, you decided to play along.

You gave him a shrug, like you hadn’t just killed the men laying out on the field and that you weren’t covered in their blood and yours. He could tell you were wounded so he supported you with his arms around.

“I just...” you spoke, not wanting to admit the little fun you had to yourself.

“A man was messing with me and I decided to show him the cost of doing that..” you spoke against his face, he was staring at your blooded face as you spoke. You let his arms around you, your figure almost engulfed by his as he stared at you.

“It’s okay now. I will have the men collected in an hour. I’ve already made calls.” you whispered, trying to answer any questions that he may have. He didn’t speak, just stared at you in shock and in admiration.

You were covered in blood but your eyes had the same childish tint to them. He hated how weak you made him feel, the only person he went out of his way to help had been a family member and now that he was cradling you in his arms, he found himself caring a little too much about you.

“Luv, Are you su-” he spoke again, you cut him off. You two bickered like a married couple.

“I’m okay. Just take me home so I can clean the wounds.” you spoke, retrieving from his arms and walking to his car again.

He mumbled a low ‘fucking hell’ while watching you lay the fabric on the car so that the blood didn’t get on the surface of the seats. You were on your usual behaviour as he watched you make yourself comfortable on the seat, still covered in blood which made his heart ache but he just told the driver to drive to your house.

His driver knew the address.

When you arrived at the house, your house maids were already freaking out. They knew something horrid had happened when you came in with a loud thud, blood covering your face. After the first few steps, you couldn’t carry your body anymore so Alfie picked you up and carried you to the bathroom.

You murmured a small ‘thank you’ at your low state and he found it hard to leave you until one of the maids came in the bathroom and chased him off with familiar words as she shouted at him in Yiddish.

An hour passed. Alfie had come to your house a couple times for tea and some company so he knew the boys around. They kept him occupied as you cleaned up, the wounds were attended to and you were soon put in a silk gown and comfortable shoes. Walking downstairs with the help of your maid, you saw his car parked out in the front.

He was still here.

You chuckled, finding it a little painful but his smile made it worth it when he stood up from the sofa he was sitting on. There were biscuits and tea on the small table next to the sofa and you could tell he hadn’t touched them.

You let the maid go as he helped you sit down. You usually hated being babied, needing help from others to do normal things had been something you dreaded for as long as you could remember but you didn’t find it all so painful when his rough skin met yours.

Settling next to him on the large sofa, you looked into his eyes. There was still a hint of fear in his eyes and it made you smile out of the tenderness he was capable of making you feel. You hugged yourself as he watched your small form become even smaller.

“You were scared.” you spoke, as a matter of fact. He wasn’t hiding it and that made you like him even more than you already did.

He chuckled at your words, hands meting over his torso as he watched you put your head on the back of the sofa. “I fuckin’ was, yeah, ‘thought you were a goner, luv.” he spoke, making you smile but you didn’t chuckle as heartily as you would’ve.

You nodded, speaking with a breathy voice as he looked at your eyes like a small kid looked at candy.

“Mariam chased you off?” you said, erupting a sound of approval from his mouth while he watched you reach for a cookie but he helped you the last minute, reaching for the food himself before you could and handed it to you.

“She spits fuckin’ fire, ya know that?” he said, still surprised at the screaming the maid had just done in Yiddish. He knew you were fond of the jews around and a part of him grew softer at the thought of you making sure they had a roof over their head.

“Well, she’s a bit protective when it comes to me.” you said, putting your head back on the sofa as he nodded.

“Can’t fuckin’ blame her, right.” he said, reaching for his beard as you watched him touch the wiry part. “fuckin’ rare, a jewel like you.”

The parts of your face that had been covered in blood an hour ago were now covered in a natural blush color as he looked at you lovingly. He didn’t hide the fact that he was attracted to you, he had made advances from day one but you were hesitant because he seemed too dreamy, a little to unreal for this cruel world you were living in.

“I don’t know about a jewel but I heard they’ve been calling me a damsel in distress.” you said, chuckling at the last words as you spoke. His eyes shot up with anger at your words but you remained as calm as a bird.

“Who the fuc-” he spoke, voice a little too loud as he tried to find out more information about the said people but you knew better than to give the names to him. They would disappear a day after you would tell him and you’d have to watch him act all daft again.

You put your hand on his knee with a soft smile on your lips. There was always word going around about you. You were a woman many lusted after and knowing you hadn’t settled yet, jealous mouths had to make something out of it. You didn’t mind, you were unmarried and a little stressed so it was nothing of a lie, really.

You enjoyed the fire residing in his eyes while he watched your lips move. “I am a damsel..” you nodded and before he could cut you off with a reassuring tone that you were far from that, you continued.

“But I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m a damsel doing damage.”

You spoke while his eyes casted an all too familiar look. His face was closer to yours now, you could feel his warmth radiating towards your body. You inched closer, moving your body a little towards him so that your eyelashes were almost touching. You stared at him, a hint of smile on his lips as he reacted to your previous words.

Oh, how he adored you.

He had done way too many awful things, killed far too many souls and had done considerable damage to the good in this world so he wondered. He wondered why you’d treat him the way you did. You were a source of sunlight in this mess of a place you both worked in and the kindness made him inherently curious as to why you did it.

He knew there was a price for having you, that had been why he was so hesitant even though he wouldn’t shy away from how he felt. There was a price to pay if he wanted you around like he did but he was ready to pay it, whatever it was.

You chuckled as he looked into your eyes, more than a few emotions swimming in his blue orbs when your hand found his chest, he was incredibly close now. You didn’t hesitate, it was you thanking him in the best way possible and he welcomed it when he felt your velvet lips against his.

You leaned closer, his hands found your leg as he caressed it. It wasn’t a heated kiss, it felt tender and loving while you moved your lips against his. The kiss was slow, it made you feel safe and secure until you broke it.

Panting slowly as you moved a little far from his face, he cursed at himself for being so weak at the sight before him. He stared at your now plump lips, licking his to savour the sweet taste of you while you let him go, your hand now hugging your body.

A sweet smile formed along the lines of your lips, your voice breathy as you spoke to the man sitting next to you.

“Thank you, Alfie.”

Tagging: @clairecrive @parkbearum @sourirez @bicevans @mollybegger-blog

a/n: My finals are on their way and I will be a little less active on here just so you guys know! I still have a couple works on queue but school is kicking my ass so i may not return as soon as i please. also lemme know if you’d like to be tagged.

269 notes · View notes

unintentionalgenius · 3 years ago

Text

ok @ongreenergrasses tagged me to do this and that's how I know we're made for each other bc tagging me in things is my love language

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 20, but 13 of those shouldn't count because they're Sherlock and I am not that person anymore

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? ok I had hopes that there was some way to do this besides doing, you know, math. but. it's 169,674

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? shockingly, #1 is Death and John Watson; or, Five Times John Watson Met Death and the One Time He Died at 615 kudos. If you'd asked me what was going to top this list I never in a million years would have said this one. I might have to re-read this now.

What I would have said actually comes in at #2, the (almost complete, dear g-d I'm so close) Come then, and be broken at 376 kudos.

#3 my beloved, my eldest daughter of a fic, Put Away Childish Things at 223.

#4 is astoundingly another Sherlock fic, this one creatively titled Five Times John Woke Up to Sherlock and One Time He Didn't (it's not bullying if it's past me I'm making fun of, right?).

#5 is a tie, with 60 kudos each, but they're part of the same series: A Great Man and Something Like Beginning, from my Sherlock kidfic (and incidentally how i met Hayls in the first place!).

I'm really committed to preserving my ~journey~ as a writer, but the outsized prevalence of Sherlock fic on my profile is making me question that decision. I feel like it's false advertising for who I am as a person now. 😅

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I try to! It might not be in a timely fashion, and honestly sometimes I feel weird about it, but I do go through and answer a few at a time when I have a few minutes.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I refuse to re-read the Sherlock fic just to confirm, but I think Childish Things wins by a landslide anyway. Fic where John or Sherlock died was a dime a dozen back in the day whereas "[a genderswapped] stiles helps peter kill her best friend" is still a very particular, unique twist of the knife.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? this is probably going to be that Sherlock kidfic verse!

7. Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written? I absolutely do not write crossovers. No offense to anyone who does, but I simply do not understand the appeal.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic? It was less about the fic and more about the fact that I pointed out 911 has some copaganda elements via a fic's tags, but yes.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind? I now, as of literally the most recent chapter of the most recent work I posted, have to admit that I do technically write smut. It's super cerebral, feely smut, but you do read two people having sex, so like. guilty.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I don't think I have written any fics worth stealing but if it's happened I don't know about it

11. Have you ever had a fic translated? nope!

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before? nope! I have co-written things in Real Life and I honestly don't think I have anyone that I would want to write fic with like that. HOWEVER I do have a beloved sounding board in @ragequilt

13. What’s your all time favorite ship? i literally cannot answer this, there is no way I can say decisively

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? I had this fic from when the first of the new star wars movies came out where everyone thinks poe is dead, so finn has to become a person on his own, essentially, rather than being taught/hand-held by poe which I felt like I was seeing a lot in fic. The whole thing was epistolary, a diary that finn's therapist had him start keeping, which he then started writing to Poe. That's pretty firmly abandoned at this point, but it still haunts me and I wish I had finished it.

15. What are your writing strengths? Hayls once told me I'm really good at dialogue, and I actually think that's true. I'm also pretty good at atmosphere, I think, though no one has ever said exactly that. I do think I'm good at characterization, and that for me is really tied to how I do dialogue. I would honestly accept any commentary anyone wants to offer on the subject, though

16. What are your writing weaknesses? PLOT. not like, emotional arcs or a character's journey or whatever but. the ticky little nuts and bolts of how we get from a to z, especially when it requires a tight plot of external action. I always think about myself as (to quote @ragequilt here) someone who writes hurt/comfort, not casefic, and this is why. I'm rarely interested in writing the finer details of a mystery or an extravagant plot full of courtly intrigue. I'm probably bad at other things, too, but this is the one that stands out like a glaring neon sign to me.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? I think in almost every case it's not necessary UNLESS it's being done for effect - that is, if I intentionally want the reader not to know what's said. Otherwise, I'm just going to put the switch to french/spanish/hebrew/arabic/mandarin in the narration. One exception to this for me, which is really just a sub-clause under the "only for effect" rule, is when I'm writing canonically bilingual characters who would employ words or phrases in both their languages in the same sentence. Some of this is characterization - Eddie Diaz speaks Spanish or Spanglish around his family; someone writing me wouldn't be writing me properly if they didn't write the Hebrew/Yiddish/English patois that I speak in Jewish spaces. I don't want my writing to read like the over-translated subtitles you sometimes see where loan words are translated, thereby rendering the subtitles actually less intelligible. It's a delicate balance and I wouldn't guarantee I get it write all the time, especially when it comes to not othering a character I'm writing. (also @ hayls I am one of those people who always/almost always says Hashem instead of g-d 😂 for me it's a way of making sure people don't think I'm talking about Christian God™️) You will notice, though, that I do have a tipping point implicitly delineated here - if someone is speaking another language for whole sentences, I'm just going to put that in the narration; single words or phrases will be written as spoken.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for? Sherlock (womp womp)

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to? I've never written Destiel fic, and while at this point you might be wondering what on earth there is left to say via fic about that pairing, I have a lil thing bubbling around in my brain about bodily autonomy vs. trauma vs. helping someone not suffer from their trauma while violating whatever the brain equivalent is of bodily autonomy.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? whyyyy would you ask someone this, it's like asking someone to pick a favorite child. the answer will change tomorrow, but right now I think it's the still-WIP sequel to Childish Things, A Twisted Thing Cannot Be Made Straight. It's got fun witchy!Stiles, buckets of angst but also lots of fun pack shenanigans in flashbacks, lots of me working out my own feelings about childbirth and raising children, ambiguous relationships, belated grappling with trauma, and also a satisfyingly bloody climax. There are some scenes there that still give me chills to read, and I wrote them.

@ragequilt I want to see yours!

#fic #AO3 #mine #tagged

3 notes · View notes

artzychic27 · 4 years ago

Text

Francoise-Dupont Performs Be More Chill- Rehearsal

More Than Survive

Adrien, without thinking, said ‘Mariiiii’ instead of ‘Christiiiiiine’, and would never live it down

When Alix wrote Boyf and Riend on Adrien and Nino’s backpacks, she got the idea to do the same with Marc and Nathaniel’s after rehearsal

Nino was actually listening to reggae on his headphones while singing (Turns out he likes it)

Kim and Alix nearly dropped Marinette when they carried her over to the sign-up sheet

Alix: STRAAAAAIGHT!

I Love Play Rehearsal

Marinette broke out into giggles a few times while singing this

Marinette: I also have a touch of ADD!

Nino: She actually does.

Instead of making the weird noises, she just did a backflip off of her chair, much to everyone’s shock

The Squip Song

Instead of going in the boy’s bathroom, Adrien and Alix go in a unisex bathroom

Alix did the rock and roll stage slide when she sang ‘ITS FROM JAPAAAAAAN!’

Alix needed a lot of water after singing that

Two Player Game

Nino and Adrien held hands a few times during the song, and Nino kissed his cheek when he sang ‘Is it really true? I’m your favowite person?’

Nino: Uh… No homo?

Alix/Rose/Juleka: Yes homo!

Nathaniel: Total homo.

The Squip Enters

Adrien may have blushed when Marinette held his hand while he was screaming

Marc and Nathaniel accidentally bumped into each other when walking through the mist from the fog machine

Adrien: You look like Calum Worthy and Rain Dove

Nathaniel: Our default modes. You can also have us set for Ruby and Sapphire

Marc: Tweek and Craig

Nathaniel/Marc: Or Yaoi boys with cat ears and tails

Be More Chill (Part 1)

Marc sang the first verse

Nathaniel died when Marc called Adrien ‘Boo’

Nathaniel’s commanding voice when he told Adrien what to do reminded him of his dad

Marc: Everything about you is so terrible (I didn’t mean in, you’re amazing)

Nathaniel: Everything about you makes me wanna die (Not you, you bring me life)

When picking out clothes, and Adrien picked out the girl shirt, Marc resisted the urge to roll his eyes when he had the point out the shirt was for girls (Screw gender roles!)

Instead of Madeline being French, she’ll be American

Nathaniel: Hey, Hamlet. Be More Chill

Do You Wanna Ride?

Adrien has to admit, Mylène made an amazing Brooke

Be More Chill (Part 2)

Nathaniel: Jeremy, you cant just listen. You have to obey.

And at that moment, Marc knew… That he was definitely a bottom

Adrien cried a little when he repeated Marc and Nathaniel’s words. They paused so everyone could comfort him and tell him he’s wonderful

Sync Up

Marc: You can’t lie to us, Jeremy.

Nathaniel: We’re inside your brain!

Kim and Alix were mostly doing finger guns and fist bumps when they sang

Mylene: I’m sure digging this new look, hella retro, and totally rad! That was English!

To make Optic Nerve Blocking happen, Max used a remote control to make the prop lockers move in front of Nino

Adrien: Feeling crisp and high and clean! And head to play rehearsal with Mari!

Marc: *Facepalms* Straight people.

A Guy That I’d Kinda Be Into

Marinette poured her heart out during this song

Her backup singers kept trying to get them to move closer together

All they could think was “COME ON! KISS!”

Adrien may or may not have blushed again when she sang ‘I guess a part of me likes to talk to you.’

Then he died when she sang ‘Is… Jake.’

More Than Survive (Reprise)

Once again, Adrien said ‘Marinette’.

The Squip Stalks (Instrumental)

The actors were just enjoying the eerie melody

Upgrade

Mylène: Isn’t the sun on the bleachers just bitchin’?

Surprisingly, Marinette didn’t kill Mylène when she and Adrien kissed

And Ivan didn’t want to mangle Adrien

Nathaniel: Now it’s time to go all the way and more!

Marc: … Fuck.

When Kim and Marinette were singing their parts in Upgrade, Adrien got just a little jealous when he saw Kim holding her hand, and dipping her

Marinette: I’m tired of being the person that everyone thinks that I am (She cried a little at this)

Loser Geek Whatever

It took all of Adrien’s willpower not to laugh or cry when singing this

To do Optic Nerve Blocking, they turned the lights off, then Nino ran offstage, and when the lights came back on, he was gone

Halloween

Mylène instead went as a sexy mouse

Kim as Lil’ Romeo

Marinette as Juliet

Alya as IT

Aurore as a sexy baby

Alix as Jason

Adrien as a cyborg

Marc and Nathaniel as Anime villains

Jeremy and Jake’s Dance Off: Adrien is an amazing break dancer

Alix was twitching and flailing her arms throughout the entire party, screaming for Mountain Dew Red

Do You Wanna Hang?

Aurore is a major lesbian, so doing this with Adrien just made her feel weird

Adrien was a little uncomfortable, so Aurore kept the touching to a minimum

Adrien: I can’t move my feet.

Marc: You’re welcome.

When Aurore made Adrien drink from her bottle, Marc and Nathaniel, having no idea how to speak Japanese just spoke Spanish and Yiddish

Kagami would be giving them lessons later

Michael in the Bathroom

Nino was wearing the CREEPS shirt, but with red letters

Adrien died a little inside when he called Nino a loser

Nino: I’m having my period!

Alya: … Take your time, honey!

Nino had everyone crying when he sang Michael in the Bathroom

It took all of Alya’s strength, and her friends restraining her to not run up on that stage and hug her boyfriend

A Guy That I’d Kinda Be Into (Reprise)

When Adrien asked if she would go out with him, Marinette was squealing and nearly said “YES! I LOVE YOU!”

But she kept that to herself and said her lines, while trying not to facepalm over and over

Smartphone Hour

Alya was actually on the Ladyblog when she was singing Smartphone Hour

Aurore got a little tongue-tied when she said ‘I’m sorry Jeremy made out with me at the party, but it was totally his fault, and let’s not let boys ever come between us again, okay?”

Alya: Hey everybody, have you heard? Rach set a fire, now go spread the word!

Alya’s vocal range had Nino blushing like crazy

Pitiful Children

Once again, Nathaniel got a nosebleed as Marc sang. Just wait until the night of the show when Marc would be wearing the outfit Marinette made

Marc and Nathaniel held hands most of the time

Adrien is a huge fan on BMC, but he still has no idea how the SQUIPS got in Rich’s locker

Alya forgot where she put her Mountain Dew

Kagami played her SQUIP

During the instrumental, Marc and Nathaniel’s backup dancers/singers were Kagami, Juleka, Rose, Chloe, Sabrine, Ivan, and Luka

The Pants Song

Adrien felt kinda badass when he called the student playing Mr. Heere a loser.

He imagined the student was his dad

After hearing the song for the hundredth, there was one thing on Adrien’s mind… He wanted Mr. Heere to be his dad

Instead of burning the momentos, Nino just cut them up

Student: Do you love him?

Nino: Yea- NO!

Student: Huh?

Akuma Class: Huh?

Alya: Say what now?

Adrien: … As a friend, right?

The Play

Marinette cried a little when Adrien (As Jeremy), implied that there was something wrong with her

Marc: I anticipated your resistance.

Nathaniel: … Fuck, I’m a bottom.

Sabrina played Mylène’s SQUIP

Ivan played Max’s SQUIP

On her cue, Alix skated across the stage screaming ‘I NEED MOUNTAIN DEW RED!’

Nino: MICHAEL MAKES AN ENTRANCE!

That immediately had students screaming and cheering

The fight scene between Nino and Adrien was a little awkward because they kept getting in weird positions

Nathaniel: … Gay?

Marc: Gay.

Chloé played Kim’s SQUIP

Aurore and Mylène held hands as they sang

Rose and Juleka played their SQUIPS

Alya: I know what you’re doing, Michael. I know what everyone’s doing! ALL THE TIME!

Nino got a nosebleed when she grabbed him by the front of his shirt

Everyone was a little out of sync when they said “I just feel so connected to you guys right now.”

Luka, as Marinette’s SQUIP, walked her over to Adrien and winked at the blonde

Marinette surprisingly didn’t stutter, have a breakdown, or scream when she told Adrien she loved him

And it was at that moment, Adrien started having feelings for Marinette

After Marinette drank the Mountain Dew red, the students just screamed and did some dramatic thrashing on the floor

Once again, Marc spoke Spanish, and Nathaniel spoke Yiddish as their characters were defeated

Voices in my Head

Instead of saying ‘I’m totally Bi.’ Alix said, ‘I’m totally Ace.’

Marinette: Who did yours look like?

Adrien: Two gay guys. Yours?

Marinette: Rocker boy.

When Marinette and Adrien finally kissed, this got the actors into a frenzy

Alya: … Okay. The song’s over.

…

Kim: Guys? We’re done.

Nathaniel: Rehearsal’s over.

Max: Hey. *Snaps his fingers* Hello?

#be more chill #bmc #miraculous ladybug #Adrinette #rainbow tomato #Alya x Nino #SQUIPS #Squip #alix ships it #alya ships it #Miraculous Musicals

51 notes · View notes

eueden · 4 years ago

Photo

⟨ MAUDE APATOW. CIS FEMALE. SHE/HER. ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, EDEN KOPPELMAN is actually a descendent of H E S T I A. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-THREE year old VETERINARY from CAPE TOWN, SOUTH AFRICA has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite THOUGHTFUL & QUIXOTIC.

hi, hello, allô, hola, ciao, ella here again with another character. okay so there’s not much to say about me that most of you don’t already know, i have no life and i’m always lurking even if i never do replies (don’t tell the admins) hgsghssghs anyway, this is eden and in a shocking turn of events i actually have a good idea of who she is and look i even made a graphic, if that’s ain’t dedication then i don’t what it is.

basic information.

NAME: eden atara koppelman

PRONUNCIATION: EE - d uh n

NICKNAME: E?? idk

GENDER: cis female

PLACE OF BIRTH: brisbane, queensland, australia

HOMETOWN: cape town, south africa

DATE OF BIRTH: june 26, 1997

AGE: twenty-three

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: heterosexual so far but secretly curious

MAJOR: veterinary

EXTRACURRICULARS: president of the jewish student association, vice president of the herpetology club, president of the volunteer service, women in leadership member, student government member

SPORTS: captain of the climbing team and co-captain of the track & field team

character inspo.

Jessica Day (New Girl) ✖ ✖ ✖ ✖

Elliott Reid (Scrubs) ✖ ✖ ✖ ✖ ✖ ✖

Amy Santiago (Brooklyn 99) ✖ ✖ ✖ ✖

background.

tw: death, infant death, car accident, fire

Eden was born in Brisbane, Australia. She comes from an animal lover family. Her grandparents are very popular down under because they had an animal TV show à la Steve Irwin. Her dad followed their footsteps and it’s a well-known zoologist who also had some TV shows (think of Bear Grylls).

TW: death, infant death, car accident. Matthias Koppelman (her dad) had been previously married but lost his wife and child in a car accident and after that he isolated himself from the public eye and moved to Namibia.

At twenty-eight, he felt the need to climb Mount Everest as one does, ya know? But ofc this man hadn’t climbed in years (he had experience but he’d been too sad to climb mountains. I mean he could barely leave bed, let alone climb Everest). That didn’t stop him and he did.

He almost d worded there bc as I said he was not ready but that’s when Hestia queen of fire showed up and warmed him (in a non sexual way bc she’s pure okay) and he was like oh that was a near dead experience and didn’t think much.

After he conquered the Everest with the help of Hestia, he moved back to Australia and oh surprise a few months later he opened his door and voilá a bebé was there with a note that said “you deserve to have a family, love hestia”

He was shocked like “did i just impregnate a fantasy?” but then Hestia was kind enough to send another and explain everything.

Anyway, Eden lived in Brisbane for four years before her dad took a job in South Africa. They moved to Cape Town (and her grandparents came with them) and pretty much had a happy life surrounded by animals.

TW: fire. When she was nine, her dad took her to a game reserve in Limpopo and by some reason a fire started endangering animals and flora. Everyone was panicking bc I mean wouldn’t u? But Eden was attracted to the flames like a pyro (the good kind tho) and since everyone had better things to do than taking care of a child, they left her unsupervised and she delved into the fire.

Ofc nothing happened to her because ✨immunity✨ but guess who showed up again? Hestia!!!! Being a great goddess and mom, she taught Eden how to use her powers so she could absorb the fire and save all the animals and people.

Everyone was like holy shit a miracle and the firefighters were like “the fuck? we did shit but we gonna take the credit lol”

Eden was like “did that just happen?” and yes, it did but she was like “meh that was imagination” and her dad was like *nervous chuckle* “yeah…” because he didn’t want to tell her the truth since that could put her in danger.

At 13, she had her bat mitzvah and it was all fun and games until fire lady showed up aka Hestia. Her dad and Hestia explained everything and Eden was like:

Hestia claimed her and off to camp she went. For the next few years she went to camps all over the world as a treat.

She never went on a quest bc she was afraid and also because she couldn’t put herself in danger and risk losing her life bc her dad already had lost a child… so yeah

Her dad remarried when she was seventeen and a year later she welcomed a new baby brother and that’s why she decided to take a gap year to be with her bro and also work with her dad in the reserves.

She moved to Athens when she was nineteen and decided to go into veterinary school. So yes Ella will get her dog one way or another idc what the admins say :chaos:

Ahhhh that’s all folks!!! We did it!

FULL BIO (yes, i completed it this time)

personality.

Eden never loses her sense of curiosity. You could say that she sees life through rose colored glasses as if she lived on the edge of a mirror country where worldly objects come to life, where flora and fauna assume almost human qualities.

She has the ability to see the good in almost anyone or anything and tends to sympathize with even the most unfriendly person. She often hides the extreme depth of feelings from her, even from herself, until circumstances elicit a passionate response.

She has a deep sense of idealism that comes from a strong personal sense of right and wrong. She sees the world as a place full of possibilities and potentials and is governed by her intuition. She is quite reserved and is not easily manipulated.

She is a good listener and considerate, they try to care for and understand others in a deep way. She can be very calm and intuitive with the people around her, being able to search for hidden meanings in the actions and words of others.

Of course, all of life is not rosy and Eden is not exempt from suffering the same disappointments and frustrations that are common to others. She tends to be a perfectionist and often strives for personal ideals that can be exhausting or very difficult to obtain.

She also struggles with time management, always leaving everything to the last minute claiming she “works better under pressure” but the truth is she’s just a procrastinator.

Very sensible, she cries almost every day either because of a commercial or a sweet story she read on Facebook. It doesn’t matter, if it’s slightly emotional she will shed some tears.

powers.

pyrokinesis: This power first manifested when she was nine years old and she helped to save an animal reserve from the flames with the help of Hestia. Since she was claimed when she was thirteen, she’s learned how to use this power. Now she can summon fire without any problem and put it out just as fast. This is very helpful because she loves baking but she’s a bit clumsy so she often burns herself, but thankfully, she’s immune, so no pain. However, Eden has never been able to create a hot wall of flames nor she has ever asked how to do that, she just hopes she never has to use it.

serenity inducement: Eden avoids conflict at all cost, not only it makes her cry but also makes her very uncomfortable and anxious which is why this was the first power she manifested. She was just a child but from what she remembers it was during a class in preschool that a kid started hitting another one. Eden panicked at such an act of violence she went there and touched the bully’s shoulder which immediately calmed him. Back then she didn’t know it was a power but after finding out about her true identity, many other events like this started to make sense. This is the power she uses the most, also with animals which is why she makes such a good veterinarian because she can calm an animal's nerves.

bond manipulation: She wouldn’t say this is one of her weakest powers but it’s one she didn’t use often growing up because she came from such a stable family that it didn’t seem necessary, however, she sometimes catches herself using it in group projects or at her workplace, you know, to keep things healthy and positive.

ability to summon food: By far the one she uses the least (personally speaking), she likes cooking and baking, so she doesn’t see the point but she does use it to feed stray animals.

headcanons.

Eden speaks fluent English, she has a mixed South African and Australian accent but she can switch. At school, half of her classes were in Afrikaans, so she also speaks it fluently. Greek comes from her demigod side, but she also took some classes back in school upon her father’s request. Growing up in a very Jewish family, her grandparents believed it was pretty important that Eden learned Yiddish and Hebrew, she can read it perfectly but struggles speaking it, especially Yiddish because she also attended Hebrew school. As for French, she learned in high school and she still takes lessons at Eonia but she hates it.

Her father started taking her to a climbing gym when she was five and by the time she was ten she was already climbing 6a routes which is pretty much an intermediate level and very impressive for her age.

She had her own TV show on Discover Kids titled “Eden’s Wildlife Adventure” in which she explained the importance of different types of animals. The first seasons were shot between Australia and South Africa, but in later seasons she traveled across Africa and South America. The show ran from 2005-2011 (which was when she was claimed).

Dreams of climbing Mount Everest before her 30th birthday.

Her father is a classic rock band and so is she. Her animals have been named after influential musicians. Right now she has a cat named Hendrix, a horse named Cobain, a dog named Mick. Growing up her father took care of a baby lion which they named Little Richard because he was smaller than most lion cubs. Over the years, his father and grandparents have fostered several wild animals while they recover or before they are sent to a reserve. Among the animals they have fostered are elephants, giraffes, zebras, cheetahs, leopards, hippos and more.

While she loves rock, she’s also a sucker for 2000s pop. Please don’t ask her about modern artists because she’s clueless.

She’s fed up with the Mean Girl jokes, we get it she grew up in Africa and she’s white.

She is a proud Jewish girl and follows many traditions. She does attend the local synagogue during Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah. And of course, Hanukkah is her favorite holiday. Her family practices Reform Judaism, so she doesn’t follow a kosher diet.

Eden was raised as a vegan and her whole family is vegan. In the past years, she has been in the process of becoming vegetarian.

Favorites: Anything written by Agatha Christie(book); Say Anything (1989) (movie); Everybody Wants to Rule the World by Tears for Fear (song);

Again, no one asked me but I will reply: “Ella, does Eden hate Iker?” “Well, thanks for asking. In a shocking turn of events, no she doesn’t. How come you might ask? Well, she doesn’t hate anyone but if she ever did then yes, she would hate him.”

pinterest | wanted connections

#euintro

8 notes · View notes

ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 5 years ago

Text

Burned Part 18

Summary: Alfie Solomons is in need of a secretary. Tommy Shelby mentions a young woman in need of employment. From there the two step into a dangerous dance together.

Part 18: The Solomons celebrate Hanukkah and face the struggles of winter

Fall changed to winter and Louise was finding it difficult to try and keep Inglewood warm enough. She’d nearly forgotten how drafty it was sometimes. Their home in Camden was much cozier even if there wasn’t a fire running all night.

Other than the chill of the frosty air, Louise didn’t mind the winter. London wasn’t sweltering and she wasn’t always a sticky, sweaty mess by the time the day was over. No, in winter she could indulge in the fur-lined jacket Alfie had bought her in Paris on their honeymoon. She thought it was too soon to think about the winter, but was glad when the snow began to fall.

Although things were going well between the couple, there were things looming. Often times, Louise couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. And she couldn’t get Alfie to go to the doctor and get a diagnosis for his skin. But he always had an excuse and she couldn’t exactly force him. And she could only prompt him so many times. Besides, they had other things to focus on and Alfie was good at distracting Louise from his health.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was their first time they would celebrate Hanukah as a married couple. As usual, they would go to Ollie’s home. The young man had a large extended family and hardly enough space for all of them. But he always invited Alfie and Louise because he knew they didn’t have much family to speak of.

The Jewish community in Camden was starting to accept Louise even if she hadn’t converted. She made friends with some of the other newly wedded women or new mothers. Her Yiddish was getting better and she tried her best to fit in. They were welcoming, especially Ollie’s family, but Louise couldn’t help but feel a little guilty that she hadn’t seen the suffering most of them had.

On the night of the celebration, Louise came downstairs. Alfie stood by the door and smiled when he saw her. She wore a simple dress, nothing fancy or anything revealing. But she wore a thin scarf to veil her hair. All of her Jewish friends who were married wore something similar. They said it was a tradition to show they were married. Louise wanted to respect the tradition during a holy celebration and she wanted people to know she and Alfie were married. As if he hadn’t gone around Camden and told every single person he came across.

Alfie’s face softened. He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. There she was, right in front of him. His wife. “Ready, love?” He asked. His blue eyes were full of pride.

She nodded and smiled. “Ready.”

~~~~~~~~

“Alfie, look at you, you’re too thin.” An older woman scolded the man and pushed a plate stacked with food towards him.

“Tante Raisa, I have already eaten,” Alfie replied in their native tongue. He and Louise were mingling after dinner and saying hello to all the people they hadn’t seen since last holiday season. Although they were all Ollie’s relatives, they acted as if Alfie was linked by blood too. Some had known Alfie’s family, especially Perle since she’d been so active in the community before her death.

It was quite a different experience seeing Alfie among people he considered family. They weren’t afraid of him, making jokes at his expense, clapping him on the back, and boisterously laughing along with him. But Alfie seemed to enjoy the company and never once resorted to his business tactics.

He was especially happy to announce he was married.

“Tante, you remember Louise.”

The woman smiled. “Of course, of course.” She set the plate that Alfie had rejected aside and held her hands out to Louise. “I heard you were wed in the summer. Mazel Tov!” She congratulated.

Louise beamed. “Thank you.”

“Alfie, what a catch.” Raisa touched Louise’s cheeks. “Look at those beautiful brown eyes. How perfect they’ll look on a healthy baby boy.” She exclaimed.

Alfie laughed a little nervously. It had been a while since they brought up the subject of a family. He’d agreed to it but now things were getting a little more serious. He wasn’t sure it was the right time.

“May you live to lead your children and children’s children to the wedding canopy!”

“Alright, thank you tante.” Alfie guided Louise away. “Got nothing on their mind but bloody children.” He muttered under his breath.

Louise hadn’t quite understood the entire blessing but picked out a few words. “They’re just excited.” She soothed.

“Any kids of ours won’t even touch the floor for the first year of its life.” Alfie shook his head but let a small smile through. “They’ll just be passed from one person to the next.

His wife smiled and touched his cheek. “You have been thinking about it though.” She pointed out with a sly look.

“Hmpf.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

The first year or so they were together, Alfie had given Louise a Christmas present. But this year, they gave each other all their gifts during Hanukah. So there was no need to celebrate it. Most of the bakery didn’t either so it was just another day of work.

Except it was a blustery, gray morning with flakes of snow whipped about in the wind.

Louise frowned at the conditions outside and decided it was much more pleasant in bed with her husband. She pushed the curtain back in place and snuggled closer to Alfie.

He yawned and stretched. “Be time to get up soon.” He said.

“It’s far too cold out.” Louise disagreed.

“Alright, then you stay here.” He moved to get up but his wife latched onto him.

“No, then I’ll be cold without you.” She pouted. “Stay.”

He chuckled and kissed her cheek. “You always think you can get whatever ya want with those damn eyes, yeah?”

She smiled and shrugged coyly. “Usually works.”

He raised an eyebrow and sighed. “How ‘bout one more hour.” He bargained.

Louise was more than happy to agree because she had a feeling she’d be able to get another two hours out of him.

The morning took a turn for the worst. About fifteen minutes into their extended nap, Evelyn knocked on the door. “Mr. Solomons, Ollie’s on the phone. He says it’s urgent.” She explained from the hallway.

Alfie groaned and pinched his eyes shut. “Yeah, right, I’ll be there in a second, Lynn.” He replied.

Louise loosened her grip on him. “Come back.” She pled softly.

“’Course, love, I’ll only be a mo’.” He smiled and pecked her lips before getting up and throwing on pants and a shirt.

He was gone for much longer than planned. Enough time for his residual heat in the bed to fade. Louise coaxed Cyril up onto the bed and to take Alfie’s place. The man was gone long enough for the dog to settle and eventually doze off, drooling on his master’s pillow.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally, Alfie returned to the bedroom. But he was in a much different state than when he left. He headed over to the dresser. “Cyril, fuck off there.” He shooed he dog off the bed. But he didn’t get back under the covers as planned. Instead, he began to get dressed for work.

“Alfie?” Louise picked up on his frantic energy. Something Ollie told him had set him off. “What happened?”

He shook his head but knew he had promised some transparency. He grunted as he sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots. “John Shelby was gunned down ‘bout a few hours ago.”

Louise put a hand over her heart. “No that…” She got an acidic taste in her mouth. She got a nauseous feeling in her stomach and the room seemed to spin. In a moment, she dashed off to the bathroom and became ill.

Alfie went to hold her short curls away from her face. “S’alright, love.” He rubbed her back. “Easy…”

Louise staggered back to her feet and rinsed her mouth out. She rubbed her eyes and took a shaking breath. “Did you know?”

“What?”

“Did you know he arrived?” Louise knew who killed the Shelby brother. It had to be the man who was vowing to kill the entire family for months.

Alfie swallowed and rubbed his hands together. “I didn’t know for sure.” He admitted. “He sent another telegram last week but it was just like the other ones.”

Still feeling sick and faint, Louise went to sit back on the bed. “What are we going to do now?” She asked.

“We’re going to be smart ‘bout it.” He replied. “No walking about by yourself, aye? Make sure you’ve got some protection.”

Louise nodded quietly. She wasn’t going to argue with him. Suddenly, the world around her didn’t feel safe. She put a hand to her stomach as more nausea came over her.

Alfie noticed her face paled. “Maybe you should stay home if you’re not feeling well.” He murmured and touched her forehead to see if she was running a fever.

Louise circled her fingers around his wrist. “I’m scared.” She whispered honestly.

“You don’t have to be, Lou, I’ll take care of you.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ve got to get to the bakery though. You’ll be alright here?”

She nodded absent-mindedly and let her hand fall from his wrist. “I’ll be okay.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Alfie left, Louise went downstairs to talk to Evelyn. She seemed unaware of John’s death or Luca Changretta setting foot in the country. “Mr. Solomons said you were feeling ill, can I make you anything to eat? Maybe fetch you something from the chemist?” The young woman asked.

Louise shook her head. She didn’t want to be alone in the house even though she had seen some of Alfie’s men lingering by the building. “No, Lyn, thank you. I think I’ll try and eat once my nausea’s passed.”

“Can I draw you a bath?” Evelyn suggested. “Might make you feel better.”

“Actually that does sound lovely, thank you.” Louise passed by the front windows and paused for a moment. She watched a few people pass by and her mind traveled to a dark place. What if someone just stopped, pulled out a gun, and shot her down. What would be stopping that person?

Evelyn went to go upstairs to start the bath.

“Oh, Lyn, before I forget, will you send flowers to the Shelbys in Small Heath?” Louise stopped her.

The maid looked confused. “Flowers?”

“One of their family members passed and I wanted to send my condolences. But wait Ishmael can bring you. Alfie wants to make sure we’re both safe. Things are changing.”

Permanent Tag List: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams

Tag List: @vehement-care @kimmietea @eleventhdoctorsangel @fire-treasure-iii

Masterpost

PB Masterlist

#alfie solomons #alfie solomonsxoc #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #john shelby #cyril solomons #ofc #oc #jewish character

73 notes · View notes

iamkatehardy · 5 years ago

Text

Only One (Alfie Solomons x Reader) - Pt 1

Request: Anon: “Hello would you mind writing an Alfie who really likes this shy girl who works in some shop near him. She already has s boyfriend but Alfie doesn't care and goes to her work a lot just to get to talk & flirt with her but she always gets embarrassed and shyer when he flirts and he loves that. She catches her boyfriend cheating on her and now Alfie can make his move😉 could u use smut prompt list #64 #37 please you can change any of this however you need to whatever works for you.”

Warnings: Cursing ; Cute Alfie

A/N: I’m splitting this in 2 parts, because I don’t want you to wait any longer! There is no smut yet, I need to polish Alfie x Reader relation! 😏

Leave your feedback, me and your favourite Jew will be very thankful!❤

Only One (Alfie Solomons x Reader)

The role of the ideal housewife was never enough for you; you always wanted much more, to feel entirely fulfilled, and you thrived.

You had the work bug, plus your dexterity with the needles and creativity put most of the other dressmakers to shame. In no time, you had one of the busiest stores in town, so you expanded the business to serve your growing clientele, moving to a roomier shop in Camden Town and hiring an Italian tailor to be able to work with men’s clothing too.

Although it was a huge success, perhaps not everyone had noticed it yet. As one of the rulers of most part of Camden, Alfie Solomons used to pay local businesses a visit, not only as a reminder of who was in charge , but also most likely to demand a share, “for operating in his town”. Your turn hadn’t come yet; he was busy with his own expansion plans, involving a strategic partnership with some old friends, to make it through the crisis after the Italians’ attacks.

“I’m not sure I trust Elazar, but I have no choice, a’ight? Aside from him having a shitload of money, all the others are eating in his fuckin’ hand, for whatever reason. He’s not an honorable man, that’s one thing I’m sure about! Can you believe that cunt is even living in concubinage with some Shiksa?! (derogatory word for non-Jewish women) – In a sudden fit of anger and frustration, Alfie swept the paper off his desk with his left hand, throwing all the work of the past few days to the floor. His fingers ran through his messy hair in desperation, he couldn’t stand not have control.

“Alfie…” – Ollie bent down to pick the papers up and placed them on the desk again.

“Not now. Not today.” – The burning wrath in his eyes could reach a person’s soul in second, but he soon acknowledged the fact that the situation wasn’t Ollie’s fault. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, his fingertips rubbing his throbbing temples. – “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off, mate? I can’t look at these anymore. We think about it tomorrow, with a clear head.”

Ollie merely nodded in assent, but when he was about to leave he turned to his boss again.

“Will you be ok?” – The hardships in Alfie’s life always made Ollie worry, almost like a son; despite the filthy temper and all the outbursts, Alfie was his mentor and they cared for each other.

“Stop worrying, little boy.”- Alfie chuckled lowly. - “Fuckin’ Solomons always find a way, even when it seems there isn’t any, innit?” – Narrowing his eyes, his hand came to his chin and he stroked his beard thoughtfully. - “Now go, live a little. You’re at the right age for it.” – With a wave of his hands, Alfie shooed his assistant away.

“You should live a little too. Anyway, have a good evening.”

“You cheeky little…” – Alfie shook his head, watching him disappear in the distance, but deep down he knew maybe Ollie was right.

Maybe he should really live a little too, before it was too late.

After gathering his things, he grabbed his coat and left the office, heading outside. The street was busier than usual, more than he expected, as it was cold and getting later I the day.

“Hey! Come here, little boy.” – Alfie called a little kid over; children were honest most of the time and too young to be afraid of him, unlike most people in Camden.

The boy approached slowly. Eventually, he stood near Alfie’s feet. The gangster looked down at the kid, who was looking up at him with big innocent eyes. After searching in his pockets for a long time, Alfie held a wad of cash in his hand. With the other hand on his lower back to hold the pain, he crouched down until he was at the kid’s height and handed him a note.

“What is all this fuss about, little man?” – He knitted his eyebrows together, almost imperceptibly, pointing at the crowd.

“The store that opened down the street, I think.” – The kid shyly took the money out of Alfie’s hand, bowing thankfully.

“What kind of store?” – Alfie’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m not sure, Sir. But they give you chocolates; maybe that’s why people go there.” – The kid shrugged and Alfie couldn’t help quirking his lips up in response.

“A’ight, thank you for your help.” – Alfie rubbed the kid’s head and stood up slowly, with a groan of pain.

After stuffing the money on his pocket, the kid ran happily down the street.

“These bastards will learn the hard way to think twice before they do anything without my fuckin’ say-so!” – Annoyed, he cussed under his breath and moved faster, scanning the street for the new store.

The sky had turned black and the rain was starting to pour down heavily, but it didn’t stop him. Slightly limping down the street, his expression was menacing, it seemed as if he was determined to start a fight with whoever challenged his power; maybe he just wanted to take his problems out on somebody else, either way, it was the perfect excuse.

Finally he saw an unfamiliar elegant store and just stormed inside, looking really pissed. The furniture looked new and luxuriously comfortable and the collection of antique artwork that adorned the place seemed to be priceless. There was a soothing record playing and a pleasant floral smell on the air, that somehow made him go back to his childhood days.

The store was already closed by then; you were working on the sewing room in the back, to get a head start on next day’s work. When you heard the door open, you popped through the velvet curtains the two parts of the store.

Beholding the man before you, you smiled and approached the counter. It was after hours already, but you weren’t willing to lose a costumer. His attire made you immediately think he was probably Jew by birth and upbringing.

“Shalom.” – You greeted him softly, and then cast your eyes down shyly, dropping your gaze to the ledge under your hands.

“Shalom.” - Alfie raised a brow as his eyes moved to you. – “I would like to speak to the owner, personally.”

“That’s me.” – When your eyes met, a smile formed on your lips and Alfie’s blood seemed to warm. – “How can I help you, Sir?”

All his courage to scold and fight the owner of the shop immediately disappeared. Rubbing his lids with the back of his hands, he stammered indecipherable words that sounded to you like Yiddish.

As you tilted your head, studying him, your eyes widened a bit and shone brighter than he had ever seen in his life. Noticing his soaked clothes and speechlessness, you wondered if maybe he just wanted shelter from the heavy rain and entered a random store. You picked up a towel and handed it to him, for him to wipe out his wetness.

“Thank you. Thank you, dove.” – He put his hat aside and took the towel, drying his head and face.

“Would you like a cup of tea, while you decide?” – You watched him drying himself and took the towel when he finished. - “Here, have a bonbon! These are kosher.” – Smiling encouragingly, you offered him a plate of assorted bonbons to choose from.

He put the candy in his mouth, letting it melt slowly.

“These are really sweet.” – He furrowed his eyebrows. – “But not as sweet as you seem to be.”

Although you opened your mouth, no word came out; you felt a furious blush flaming on your skin.

Trying to come up with an excuse for the situation he found himself in, he looked around him, letting out a loud breath and straightening his posture. Before saying anything else, he took another moment to watch your embarrassment, how your face was still burning in shame after the compliment; it was pretty adorable and it somehow amused him.

“I was wondering, do you sell hats here?” – He didn’t actually need the thousandth hat, but it was the first thing he came up with, so he’d stick with that excuse until he’d come up with something better.

“Yes, do you have anything in mind?” – Looking down to cover up the blush, you bit your thumb shyly.

“Lots of things, love.” – He came closer with a smile on the corner of his lips. - “As about the hat, something inconspicuous, but with a little style. Black, wide brim, preferably resistant.” –Shrugging, like the hat was actually no big deal, he constantly kept his eyes glued on you.

The first of his answer might have been innocent, but you blushed even more. No matter what words he spoke, his voice was enough to make a woman weak at the knees.

“I… I’ll see what I can get, just give me a minute. In the meanwhile, please, make yourself at home.” – You nodded to the sofas before you disappeared behind the curtains again.

He sat on the sofa and ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head and chuckling in a low tone.

“Composure, (Y/N), composure…” - In the backroom, you sat on the edge of a table and cleared your throat, putting your lightly shaky hand on your chest. After taking a sip of water, you searched in the boxes, trying to find those that met his requirements.

A few minutes later you returned with a half dozen boxes pilled in your hands and put them on the sofa, next to him.

“At the moment I have these. If you’d like something else, I can order it for you, it’ll take only a couple days.” – You gracefully sat on the arm of the couch, crossing your legs and arranging your skirt, before you opened the boxes one by one and started handing him the hats for him to try them on.

“How do I look?!” – Giving you a cocky smile, he turned his head to give you a profile view.

“Great!” – Leaning closer, you adjusted the hat into a slightly crooked position. – “Well, that’s more like it. Perfect.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” – Watching you with great interest, he blinked slowly. – “I’m taking them all.” – He took the hat off, putting it back in the box and got up, extending his hand to help you up.

Why the hell would someone buy so many hats that look almost exactly the same?

You looked at him in surprise and took his hand, getting up. Your hand lingered on his for a few seconds and the pad of his thumb rubbed your knuckles soothingly, sending a shiver through you, before you finally pulled it away, with a sheepish smile on your face.

“What name should I put on the receipt?” – You went behind the counter again.

“Alfred Solomons.” – Leaning against the counter, he paid for the hats and watched you write his answer down. He had gotten so close he could feel your warmth and your delicate fragrance with every intake of breath. – “But you may call me just Alfie, a’ight?”

“Deal.” – You gave him the receipt.

“It’s raining cats and dogs. I don’t think it’s a good idea to take all those boxes home in these circumstances, innit darling? Can I swing by tomorrow to get them?”

“Of course, Mr. Solomons.” – You intertwined your hands together and nodded cordially.

“Alfie.”

“I think you’re going to need this.” – You giggled and handed him an umbrella. – “So long, Alfie.”

“See you around…” – He tilted his head lightly to one side and lifted his brows. – “ Sorry, I don’t think I got your name.”

“(Y/N).”

“(Y/N).” – He nodded. – “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman, right?” – With a warm half-smile, he turned on his heel and left.

The next day, you waited for him to show up, constantly checking when a new client made it through the front door. It was half-hour to closing time and he still hadn’t shown up.

Alfie was at the bakery, in a meeting with Elazar, scrambling with last minute details on their settlement.

“Let’s make this quick, Elazar. I have an appointment, mate.” – He looked at his pocket watch to check if he still had time to go to your store; he did, but not much.

“Relax Alfie, I have an appointment too, maybe two, or three.” – Elazar grinned maliciously.

“With your missus? Doesn’t count as an appointment.”

“Alfie, Alfie, Alfie… I wouldn’t expect you to understand, you’re not a ladies’ man after all, but your missus is your choice of pleasure if, and only if you have no other option available.”

“What… Excuse me?” – Alfie put his glasses down, giving him a nasty look.

“Think of a relationship as if it was just any other business; if you have the chance to have some side action and make a profit, you go for it, without blinking an eye.”

“How can you fuckin’ do that, mate?!” – Slightly irritated, Alfie swung his arms on the air.

“It’s really quite simple; women are very naïve when it comes to love.” – Elazar proudly started explaining. – “Tell her you love her and she’s the only one; make her believe that and she will be at your feet, which will basically make her buy any excuse you come up with. But keep her busy, so she won’t have much time to think about them, some women are smart enough to figure out the truth … Give her a small business, or let her teach little orphans, something like that. Use your imagination! Propose to her, if necessary, it will keep her in your hands until you are done with the little brat and find a better one.”

“I wasn’t asking how do you do it! I was asking how you can be such a cunt, actually. You give a woman goods and she will give you a heart cooked meal… You give her your house and she will make it your fuckin’ home… You give her your fuckin’ cum and she will return you your offspring! If you give her some affection, she will give you her fuckin’ heart! What is wrong with you?!”

“What is wrong with you, Alfie? That’s why you don’t get any action. Have you gone soft or what?”

“No, I simply respect women!” – Alfie’s unblinking eyes were fixed on the man ahead and his jaw was tight. – “You know what? If it’s alright with you, we can finish this another day.”

“As you wish. Call me later and let me know when.” – Elazar promptly picked his things up and left.

“What has this world come to? Thank you for everything eema. (Mom, but I’m not sure of this) “ – Alfie pressed a hand to the medallion in his chest, before he checked his pocket watch again and hurriedly left the bakery, heading to the flower shop.

Tag List: @carmen-kray , @titty-teetee , @iv-nyc , @but--dear-this-is-not-wonderland , @eap1935 , @ellar21 , @tiredoffeelinglost , @original-krays , @marvelgirl7 , @captstefanbrandt , @evilispretty-dead , @mollybegger-blog , @bignastyfan-nz , @scarrasco1325-deactivated201905 , @miidailyinspiration , @harleyquinns , @haroldpain , @marvelslut16 , @willowick13 , @outofbluecomesgreen , @elemeph , @my-little-lucky-scissors , @overitall2018 , @innerpaperexpertcloud , @matoki-darkpanda

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction #alfie solomons fanart #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons tom hardy #tom hardy characters #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy x reader

526 notes · View notes

ducktracy · 5 years ago

Text

156. i only have eyes for you (1937)

release date: march 6th, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: tex avery

starring: joe twerp (iceman), elvia allman (old maid, katie canary)

tex’s merrie melody input would grow stronger and stronger. by the end of the year, he’d be directing merrie melodies exclusively all the way until 1941. his next cartoon, a looney tune, would change the face of looney tunes for generations to come—porky’s duck hunt introduces us to the enigma that is daffy duck. but for now, the local ice delivery man attempts to win over katie canary by crooning. however, his methods for achieving such golden pipes are seldom legitimate.

right away, the story launches into a catchy little jive in minor key, exposing the plot. the ice delivery man, a bird with an overbite doing an eddie cantor eye roll as he rolls along in his jalopy, is on his way to deliver ice to his least favorite house. an old hag is absolutely smitten with him, to the point of sexual harassment as she flaunts the ever scandalous YOO HOO! sign in her window. the lyrics are highly amusing: “she orders 50 pounds of ice 10 times a week, he hates delivering ice to her!” the old maid’s line of attack is to lure the iceman in with her baked delicacies (”how our hero hates the stuff the old maid makes!”)

elsewhere, we stumble upon katie canary, who has our hero “nutty as a loon” (foreshadowing to porky’s duck hunt?) while iceman is out begrudgingly delivering unforeseen amounts of ice to a creep, his true love is obsessed with the crooners, perched in front of the radio, her house adorned with photos of crooners like bing crosby, eddie cantor, al jolson, and rudy vallee. why cantor and jolson are considered crooners beats me, but it’s certainly funny nonetheless.

it wasn’t long after this cartoon that joe dougherty was fired from the studio on account of his stutter being too out of control. in fact, the next porky cartoon, porky’s romance, would be his last. the directors made their frustration working with dougherty known, so much so that tex avery decided to lampoon it in this cartoon here. as iceman prepares to drop off his delivery to the old maid, he stumbles on his words and switches them up (joe twerp providing the vocals instead of joe dougherty): “ gy mosh—er, uh—my gosh. this old maid pure is a shest... er, boy, she sure is a pest.” i feel bad for dougherty, as he was talented in my eyes, but i can sympathize with tex’s frustration. dougherty’s stutter caused a lot of retakes, which, in turn, cost a lot of money. it’s easy to be fed up. while this isn’t the most friendly of characters in terms of background, i admit that it amuses me a lot, knowing the backstory.

sure enough, the old maid IS a pest. iceman creeps into the house, shifty-eyed as he gingerly drops a block of ice in the icebox. the coast is eerily clear, and for good reason. great setup on tex’s part: she’s baking pies, putting up creepy signs, she makes her presence known. so why isn’t she breathing down iceman’s neck? the tension is very strong and very believable. with that, iceman tiptoes out, his speed gaining as he grows more and more relieved... until the door slams shut as the old maid pins him inside, waiting behind the door the entire time.

right away, the old maid attempts to corner the iceman, shoving food in his face she had been storing behind her back. the iceman struggles to refuse, stumbling “oh, tho nanks. er, na thonks. er, not me!” the gag picks up in momentum as poor, meek iceman almost breaks out into a backwards run, the old maid pulling out donuts and watermelons and turkeys behind her back with the utmost of ease and nonchalance.

terrified, the iceman pins himself against a wall, which turns out to be a murphy bed. the bed flops onto the ground, concealing the iceman, while the old maid sighs in perverted satisfaction. “at last, a MAN!”

i can only wonder if bob clampett animated this next scene, seeing as it would be reused in the daffy doc. while a hysterical surgeon-to-be daffy crawls in and around a bed with a handsaw, pursuing a terrified porky, the old maid dives under the bed and crawls on top of it, pursuing the iceman in a VERY similar fashon. nevertheless, iceman outsmarts the old maid, jumping out of the bed and allowing the murphy bed to spring back into the wall, old maid inside it and all. a famous, amusing tex avery-ism as iceman hops into his truck and screeches away. suddenly, he reverses, giving an exhausted “whew!” to the audience before speeding out of sight once more.

finally, a more pleasant delivery as iceman arrives to the abode of his crush, katie canary. but this is a different delivery—our hero comes bearing flowers. he bumbles his way inside, katie still perched in front of her own love, the radio, fiddling with the dial. “fere’s some howers—er—how’s some fleers—“ while iceman stumbles his way through, katie rudely hushes him as she finds her desired radio station. the warm warbles of bing crosby’s “let it be me” fill the air, and katie listens, enraptured, while iceman leans against the radio in a huff. borrowed from another tex entry, i love to singa, bing interrupts his singing. “don’t lean on the radio, son, you bother me.”

when the song ends, iceman perks up, offering his flowers to katie. however, katie still refuses. this is the first of MANY, MANY, MANY katharine hepburn impressions, primarily in tex avery cartoons. tex just LOVED kat’s voice, finding it as the perfect lampoon. katie speaks in the hepburn inflection, shooing him away. “please go away. cahn’t you see i’m saving my haaht and my lahv for radio croonahs? someday, somewhere, sometime i shall marry one, and i know we should be all so tehhribly happy, rahlly i do.” poor iceman wilts, along with his flowers, a telltale sign of Lost Romance. iceman sulks out the door, nearly dragging along across the floor.

in his jalopy, iceman hilariously struggles to sing a rendition of “let it be me”, eventually giving up and growling “aw, let it go, let it go...” carl stalling’s musical accompaniment is excellent, the chorus repeating like a broken record as the iceman tries his damnest to get the words right. this start/stop approach of music would accompany porky plenty of times when he himself tries to sing (like when he struggles to sing “singin’ in the bathtub” in polar pals.)

suddenly, iceman perks up as he stumbles across a sign:

PROF. MOCKINGBIRD

VENTRILOQUIST

AND

IMITATOR

but of course! an impressionist! tex fills up some time by including closeups of signs, such as the aforementioned one and the sign outside of the prof’s door that advertises PROF. MOCKINGBIRD -- PRIVATE. prof. mockingbird greets him with a “hullo, strenza!” (a yiddishism reused from i love to singa) and iceman tries to get to the point. after struggling, he cuts to the chase. “look, do something!”

mockingbird more than obliges. because this is a tex avery cartoon, not only does the bird perfectly imitate ducks, dogs, roosters, even car horns, he contorts his body to accompany his display of talent, even twisting and bending himself around as he imitates an airplane. iceman is certainly impressed. “that’s swell. er, that’s crell, but can ya swoon? er, can ya swim? i mean, can you croon?” a few lines of the title song (the actual song, not the exposition!) confirms iceman’s suspicions. floored, iceman yanks mockingbird out of the office and stows him away in the back of his ice truck.

back to iceman’s pursuit as katie canary elegantly swipes her hand through her “hair” (bob clampett animation), peering out the window, when warm warbles catch her ear. delighted, she rushes to the window, spotting none other than iceman singing “i only have ice for you” from his truck. a lovely layout and angle. and, as expected, we see mockingbird inside the truck, supplying the vocals instead of iceman, both pantomiming one another. the scene is humorous as it is with the fake vocals, but iceman pantomiming the unseen mockingbird is even better.

katharine katie has been won over. “i knew he’d come, my lover, my sweet one!” she provides a mini soliloquy as she theatrically poses on her staircase, dreaming of how “sadly happy” she will be. “oh, at lahst, to be held in the arms of a crooner, it will make me so sadly happy... rahlly, it will.” tex would have a field day with katharine hepburn soliloquies, as he displays in his epic hamateur night. katie eagerly hops in iceman’s jalopy, and together they ride.

inside, however, is a bleaker scene: mockingbird is positively freezing. another fun tex(t) gag as iceman shiftily rings a buzzer on the side of the truck. inside, a sign blazes SWING IT! the poor mockingbird gives a nasally, shuddering, poor rendition of the eponymous song, trying not to freeze to death. katie grows slightly suspicious as sounds of an oncoming sneeze loom, but shrugs it off as the vocals revert to semi-normal.

“boy, it’s bloody cold in here!” interjects the mockingbird. katie grows increasingly curious and suspicious as iceman recognizes his folly. the vocals grow worse and worse (yet funnier for the audience.) hilarious animation by who i presume to be is bob clampett, with katie’s suspicious grimaces and winks, iceman batting his eyelashes and shrinking into himself, it has clampett written all over it (and those expressions would be reused in similar nature to some of his cartoons. porky’s badtime story and baby bottleneck come to mind for the grimaces and the eyelash batting.)

finally, mockingbird gives a behemoth of a sneeze, blowing iceman’s cover as the entire back half of the truck is ripped off, a freezing iceman quivering on a block of ice. katie stares down iceman as he wrings his hat, his tail between his legs.

and so-- (signaled with a highly amusing offscreen ed wynn warbling “SO--” ), we find katie canary pouring boiling hot water in a wash tub, where the recovering mockingbird is soaking his feet in an attempt to warm up. two movers come in and haul away katie’s fated radio, replacing it with a refrigerator. katie and the mockingbird happily embrace.

AND OUR HERO—he sits in the old maid’s kitchen, feeding him all the delicacies he could dream of. he devours a pie, and while he prepares to dig in for another, he finds himself holding the old maid instead, prepping for a kiss. iceman recoils, pausing to put on sunglasses and hesitantly accepting the kiss. he addresses the audience, stumbling on his words, until he gets to the point—“well anyhow, she can cook!” iris out on the unlikely couple as they kiss once more.

this is an intriguing cartoon that i grew to appreciate the more i watched. the opening number was catchy as can be, and implementing the title song as a rendition sung questionably and sickly is certainly an interesting choice. it’s obvious tex wanted to do more than just advertise a song—it’s almost as if he was like “i’ll give you your damn song, alright.” while tex is hardly sentimental or endearing, this is definitely an endearing cartoon. you can easily sympathize with the iceman and his search for love. you can feel the apprehension as he treks through the dangerous territory that is the old maid’s kitchen, you can feel his heartache when katie canary dismisses him away in favor of her crooners, you can feel his red hot embarrassment as his fake crooner plans turn awry. he has much more personality than he lets on... or perhaps he just resonates more than usual. the whole stuttering thing was highly amusing, too. you can tell tex really wanted to go the roy atwell approach with dougherty, mixing up sentences and words and cutting to the chase, but couldn’t because of dougherty’s stutter. joe twerp does an excellent job and is one step closer to tex’s dreams being realized. tex’s next cartoon, porky’s duck hunt, his dream would be fully realized as mel blanc takes the stage as porky for the first time.

in all, this is a good short! i enjoyed it quite a lot. it has a lot of personality to it, and it’s certainly a different approach to the merrie melodies as we’ve been seeing. give it a go!

link!

#lt #i only have eyes for you #reviews #looney tunes #long post #avery

19 notes · View notes

voicesfromthelight · 5 years ago

Text

A Breakthrough in Evidential Mediumship, And Some Things I Learned On The Way There

Those of you who follow my posts on a regular basis may know that as a medium and psychic, my specialty is channeling readings through my spirit guides, who read my clients’ energy fields and communicate their insights to them through me. Though I’ve always held my work to a high standard of evidentiality, in the sense that I only consider my readings legitimate if I can intuitively communicate specific, verifiable details about my clients’ lives, more “mainstream” evidential mediumship (i.e. communicating with people who have passed on) has been more challenging for me. My theory is that the reason for this is that my guides dwell in a slightly different frequency band of the spirit world than the one from which the deceased tend to communicate. I attune myself energetically more easily to my guides.

Because of this lopsided affinity, in the interest of maintaining the best possible track record on accuracy, I have only offered human-to-deceased-human mediumship incidentally to my other readings. However, over the past couple of weeks, I have been led to clients who have had a very pressing need to communicate with the dead - in some cases, due to life-and-death situations at stake with those who have been left behind. As a result, I seem to have had a breakthrough in this area of my practice, with a personally unprecedented amount of specific evidence coming through. It has been an exciting, moving, and humbling experience. I have been astonished by some of the things that have been communicated. The fact that the need for it was especially urgent in these two cases supports my guides’ assertion that a strong motivation to establish contact, or “move the energy of information,” will contribute to mediumistic success.

The sessions have been fairly intense, since being a channeler, my most consistent method for connecting with Spirit involves a deeper, somewhat more physical state of trance mediumship than evidential mediums usually employ. I use similar states of consciousness for this work as I do when channeling Ves and listening for clairaudient dictation, in which the individual ego takes more of a back seat than, say, in psychically reading people’s energy. However, because recently incarnated souls communicating about their lives on earth will often use physical responses in the medium’s body to relay information about things such as health issues and emotions, channeling them can be a less comfortable experience than working with guides who have been blissfully floating in the ethereal realms for much of their existence. (It remains to be seen whether I develop past this method, and get similar results from light meditation, as most evidential mediums do, but this is it, for now. I am embracing the journey!)

As in my channeling work, reports on these readings are based on transcripts of the recorded sessions. Once the recorder is on, I set the intention for the reading, connect to my spirit guides, and have an initial conversation with them, until they tell me we are ready to go ahead and make contact with the deceased soul. Then, I greet the departed person, and wait for a clairaudient response, as well as a physical awareness of their energy (usually felt as a warmth.) When contact is established, I work to communicate and retrieve information by cycling through various lighter and deeper states of meditation, verbalizing what I hear, feel and see. It’s kind of like diving into deep, murky water (the unconscious), fishing for pearls (the information), and then coming up to the surface just long enough to collect them into a basket (describing or expressing what I am experiencing) before diving back in.

The communications are a mix of directly channeled text, physical sensations, clairvoyant and claircognizant impressions, individual words clairaudiently introduced as evidence, and sometimes even words that seem to be channeled through an almost purely physical mediumship. Generally, the deeper the trance state, and the less I am consciously aware, the more specific and accurate the information. During the reading itself, the focus is less on understanding the information with the active mind, as it is on communicating the subtlest of details of the psychic impressions as they come in. The analysis is done later. The lovely thing about conducting mediumship in this way is that the directly channeled text offers a chance for the deceased loved one to communicate their personality, emotions, and signature expressions, which help the client recognize the spirit in question, whereas the more specific words and concepts provide concrete evidence that contact has been established, beyond the more subjective elements. This anchors the emotional healing of the communication in the reassurance offered by proof of continuity of consciousness after death. The results have been some of the best I have ever experienced in my work as a medium so far.

I do still want to build up my consistency in this practice, and am going to continue to wait a while longer before offering these services separately. My guides, Salvador and Natalie, assure me that it won’t be long before I am ready to do so. In the meantime, however, I thought I might share some tips on evidential mediumship that I either learned through experiencing these recent readings, or that were communicated to me by my guides while we were doing them.

First, some basic principles that bear repeating:

1. The most important thing to learn in evidential mediumship, or any kind of channeling, is how to quiet your mind and step out of the way. Meditate, meditate, meditate. Practice shifting your consciousness into an altered state on a regular basis, until you are able to do so at will. The more easily you can access a state of openly receptive relaxation, or even a hypnagogic half-dreaming state, the more easily you will be able to receive information. Personally, much of my best information comes through when I am in a semi-deep state of trance: deep enough to have very little awareness of self, but present enough to be able to verbally express what I am seeing, feeling and hearing.

2. Don’t be afraid to make mistakes. Soothe your inner critic into silence. Celebrate every small success. Surrender to the process. Give every subtle detail of what you are experiencing your full attention, and make a note of it. What I have found is that even little “throwaway” utterances can be crucial when putting together the complete picture of a reading. No impression is too big, no hunch or hint is too small. Make note of them, and worry about their meaning later.

3. If something you feel, hear or see repeats itself several times throughout a reading, it’s probably important. In my latest readings, for instance, I heard the words “Lazarus” and “Queensland” over and over. I even heard “Lazarus” as I was going to bed the night after the reading, before I had confirmed its significance with my client. These turned out to be some of the most specific pieces of evidence I was able to channel: “Lazarus” was a song that had been played for the deceased person’s loved one every morning for the past several weeks, and the person I was communicating with had spent years in that part of Australia.

4. If something you are being communicated in a reading strikes you as unusual, and repeats itself in slight variations, or through different clair-senses, pay attention. In one of my readings, the person coming through kept reiterating that speaking was difficult for him. At first, I thought he was simply referring to an introverted personality. However, as I was channeling him, I began to notice a physical sensation of having difficulty verbalizing what I was saying. This struck me as strange, because I could hear his clairaudient communication as easily as any other spirit I had worked with. Later in the session, the word “Huntington” jumped out of my mouth with quite a bit of urgency, and the difficulty with speech connected all the dots.** Upon looking up “Huntington,” I realized that the man was probably trying to tell us that he had undiagnosed Huntington’s chorea (which I couldn’t recall ever hearing of before): a hereditary illness that eventually leads to a loss of speech. In light of other details that were communicated to me after the reading itself, amazingly, it now looks like I may have actually hit on a correct diagnosis of this very rare condition. If this can be verified, it will be one of the most baffling examples of evidence I have been able to bring through so far.

5. If you can’t figure out exactly what you are seeing or hearing through your clair-senses, focus yourself, relax, feel around, breathe deeply, and keep describing verbally what you are experiencing. A general shape of a triangle might eventually reveal itself as a bale of hay, or a pyramid. If you are getting a snippet of a word, verbalize what you hear, then play around a bit with how it feels in your mouth, until it feels right. This is how I usually hit on exact names in readings. “Lazarus” repeated itself in my reading a few times in its correct form, but subsequently also came through as “Lazer” (the Yiddish version of the name) and at one point, what I thought was “lazy.”* (Ironically, the first attempt was the correct one. As my guides are fond of saying: “The first truth that comes to you, is the truth.”)

The last reading I did was especially interesting in that it was punctuated by shorthand conversations with my spirit guides, Salvador and Natalie, who not only encouraged me to trust what I was receiving, and gave me some context for what the person being channeled was communicating, but also offered suggestions on how to connect better with the subject of the session. A new concept Natalie introduced was that of connecting to the deceased through their emotional energy. Here is a passage from one of the sessions.

Natalie: “Try this: Call in his feelings - the energy of his emotions. Keep listening to what he says in full sentences - every word he says. Try, and you will be surprised! Raising your energy, and giving joyful greetings to Spirit, enable psychic knowing. Beautiful, clear information comes through in small details. Please smile, and focus your mind. Use your psychic protection to lift yourself out of negative emotions, exciting now the energy of the heart. Please allow a warm meeting of the minds. Let go of your nervousness. Hear the misaligned wrongs that happened being blessed. Feel the energy of joy, and let the guides speak. Trust in this wonderful discipline! Let go of your preconceptions of what you should be hearing. Please ask open-ended questions, and smile! Feel the energy of joy.”

Salvador: “Yes, dear wife. Look to a manifestation of greater joy than you expected in this predicament, being communicated here. Look ahead to the future easing of the situation. Trust the advice. Just try to believe the wonderful, unexpected developments that are happening. Understand that the events are in the process of transforming. Just expect the future with psychic openness.

Emily: “How did I connect to the departed gentleman, just now?”

Salvador: “Wonderfully! Just trust your intuition, and when you begin to feel doubt, smile! It is important to hear Spirit with pleasure, and speak together with confidence. This was a legitimate conversation. It’s time to find hope, and forgive everyone. Expect a clear change in the joylessness. Surprising manifestations. Believe it, and and expect happiness and love to win out. Speak great truth. Respond to this new gift of intelligence: The unexpected instructions you are receiving. Return your focus, and concentrate on the future trajectory. Just come to the conclusion, together, that positive success is definitely accessible again in this situation.”

Emily: “Should we try to channel him directly again?”

Salvador: “Yes, dear. Bless the trust. Thank him. He will now speak of future expectations. Bring in quickly the trajectory of future success.”

From this passage, you can see the guides once again emphasizing the importance of taking joy in communicating with Spirit, to strengthen the connection. They were also trying to draw my attention to the fact that even though the session was being conducted in hopes of helping a person linked to the deceased who seemed to be in a dire situation, I should come to the reading free of any preconceptions about their future. This was, in fact, quite important in helping to piece together the information, because much of it was coming through in purely visual impressions that were later confirmed to be describing the future plans of the person in question - none of which I had been informed about. My guides were extremely helpful in framing those plans in positive terms.

If you have studied mediumship, what are some of the most basic principles you use to help yourself connect? What would you add to my list? Let me know!

_____________________________________

*In yet another example of Spirit using synchronicity for reinforcement, right as I was reviewing this sentence in the post, in a cafe, mulling over this name, someone a few feet away from me uttered the words “Lazer vision!”

** And yet again, the word “Huntington” - in the form of a location - popped up during a completely unrelated work task, on the day that I confirmed that there was a possilibility that the deceased’s family had a history of this disease.

#psychic #psychic medium #mediumship #evidential mediumship #spirit communication #physical mediumship #spirit #spirit guides #life after death #trance #trance mediumship #channeled #channeled messages #psychic development

5 notes · View notes