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crab-instruments · 6 months

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The Crime Lord’s New Groove Part 6

Master <Part 5

Pairing: Silco x GN Reader

Summary: You find that your boss, Silco, has been turned into a cat.

Warnings: none

a/n: I wake up everyday and wonder why people want me to continue this. I had no idea where I was going when I started this but now it's going somewhere (maybe) and I'll explain more in the ending note because it'll make more sense that way. This is also like twice as long as any of the other chapters so have fun. That might keep happening since this now has something resembling a plot.

Nothing seemed real any more. You were about to accuse your landlord of witchcraft, charge her with crimes of turning your boss, the King of Zaun, into a street cat, and Silco would commit crimes against humanity once human again. If the fuzzy ball of scruff back at The Last Drop wasn’t living proof this was real, you’d be begging to wake up from this surrealist nightmare.

Sevika practically ripped your arm out of its socket, dragging you back to your apartment building. You took heavy steps and dragged your heels, hoping to slow the journey to think your way out of this. The attempt was useless, Sevika would always win in a game of strength and you were a headliner clown in this clusterfuck of a circus. There was no way out of the circus tent but through the ring of fire.

The pulling stopped and you were jerked to a halt, your arm screaming in pain as you regained control. You studied the door of the building like it was a piece of art before giving a pleading look towards the woman next to you. Her eyebrows raised expectantly, waiting for something, expecting action and soon.

“Well, we’re here. You said you wanted to talk to her first so get to it.” Sevika crossed her arms in front of her chest, huffing.

You sighed. “How reliable is your memory? Maybe it wasn’t her, maybe I’m wrong, maybe—”

Luckily Sevika used her human arm to slap you outside the head. “Stop stalling or I’ll just drag her to Silco’s office. Don’t push it. You’re the one who wanted to drag this out.”

You reached for the door, pulling it open and walking through. Sevika followed closely as you lead her to the woman’s apartment on the first floor. The door seemed so unsuspecting, giving nothing away about being the door of a (potential) witch. You raised your fist but you couldn’t knock. You stared at your hand, unmoving. There was a knocking sound regardless of your frozen hand, which startled you. You looked up at Sevika, who looked annoyed at having to knock on the door for you, like it was an arduous task.

Inside the apartment, you could hear movement as Deidre moved to answer the door. A few locks flipped, making a clicking sound, and the door opened slightly, a chain stopping it from opening fully.

“Deidre! So sorry to disturb you but I have something to talk to you about.”

Her blue eyes pierced into your soul, like she knew more than she let on and exuded distrust. “I am firm on the no cats policy, my dear. However, I can give you a few more days if you really felt the need to convince me with violence.” Her eyes flickered over to Sevika and then back at you.

It was at that moment you realized you had spent so much time trying to get out of this confrontation that you had no idea what you were going to do to broach the subject. You stood there, dumbly, as an awkward silence settled over the three of you. As the pressure seemed to rise to the point of bursting, Deidre about to close the door on your face and Sevika about to rip it off its hinges, you blurted out a few words and they stumbled from your mouth ungracefully.

“What are your thoughts on transfiguration?” That seemed to break the tension, causing the two other women to flinch backward in surprise at your outburst.

“Excuse me?”

“Turning a thing into a different thing. You know, magic.”

Deidre hesitated before speaking. “Magic? I’m not sure I’m following.”

Sevika leaned over you, placing a hand on the door to test the strength of the chain keeping the door closed. “Can you turn someone into a cat or not, lady?”

Another awkward moment passed before the landlord gave a harsh laugh, something between annoyance and incredulousness. “I don’t know who you’ve been talking to but you shouldn’t believe everything you hear. I may be a medium but nothing I do is magic, I’m afraid. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“You admit you are something though. What did you do to Silco?” Sevika’s voice came out gritty and impatient. The chain keeping the door closed was barely holding on, close to breaking. You stared at it, admiring its determination to stay linked together while your own sanity unraveled.

The older woman considered Sevika before addressing you again. “This is about your boss? I’ve never met the man—”

“You’re lying, I saw you, yesterday, walk into his office.”

“I did no such thing!”

There was a loud clack, the chain breaking and hitting the door and then a bang as the door hit the wall. Sevika pushed passed you, shoving you into Deidre’s home while she held the older woman by her scarf and dress. She was in her face, yelling, as Deidre refuted her accusations. The argument was hard for you to follow, the most you could get out of Deidre’s defense was that she isn’t a hack and a fraud and only deals with spirits but not usually those of animals like cats. She hardly even does tarot readings because of the poor reputation spiritualism gets from all the past debunking and she just wants to do this in peace!

The fight melted into the background as a wall filled with framed photos caught your eye. Some looked like staged family photos but there were two Deidres in a few, maybe three. They looked exactly the same. Other photos covered the wall, looking old and yellowed over time, some with bright flashes in them and ghostly figures. Deidre was a main figure in a lot of these photos but in many, there were at least two Deidres.

You spun around, putting your hand on Sevika’s arm. “Stop! She has a sister! A twin sister!”

Sevika did stop her assault to look at you in anger before glaring back at the woman held in her hands. Her eyebrows seemed to ask for her confirmation.

The older woman rolled her eyes, like she was making the realization herself too. “Of course! I haven’t seen any of my sisters in a long time but I’d be willing to bet they would each do something nefarious to a man like Silco.” She was quiet a moment, staring past Sevika before yelling again. “Let me go, you brute, before I make you pay for more than the door!” Her hands swatted at Sevika’s arms, like she had no self-preservation.

To her credit, Sevika did let her go and backed up. Deidre readjusted her scarf and dress, huffing the whole time. “Now pick up the door and put it back on the hinges. There are tools in the closet across the hall.”

Sevika balked at the command before becoming aggravated. “Lady, you are on thin ice. Do you think I will—”

“Did you not break into my home, falsely accuse me of witchcraft, and threaten me?! You’ve also dragged my tenant with you! I know you have working hands as they held me aggressively against the wall so I assume they work well enough to screw a few bolt into place. Or are you only capable of violence and mayhem? Hmm?”

The two stared each other down as your heartrate spiked, wondering if you were about to watch a double homicide and how you’d begin to explain the situation to anyone outside the room, let alone your cat boss. It seemed that no matter who one, you were the loser.

It was surprisingly Sevika who relented, muttering under her breath as she went to see the damage she had done.

Your eyes went wide and your jaw fell open. “You… You… What? How? You have to be a witch, because only Silco could boss her around!” You leaned over, clutching your chest. “Is this what a heart attack feels like? I think I’m dying.”

Deidre hummed. “No magic. The spirits told me to not show fear, to not fall prey to her intimidation, and that would be the way to get through to her. It’s about speaking the same language, my dear, I just happen to have an advantage. Would you like some tea and snacks? You’ve been dragged into some mischief unfairly and yet you still extend yourself too far.” Without waiting for an answer, the older woman trots over to the sink, filling up a kettle with water.

She seemed so… sure about everything. How did she know? Spirits? Unfairly?

“Dear, you’ll catch flies if you don’t close your jaw,” she continued her crusade of gathering cups, plates, and refreshments without stopping. Your jaw closed shut with a click. Deidre approached you once again with a full tray, ushering you to sit down. Not knowing what else to do, you followed and accepted the cup of tea she pushed into your hands. Sevika was somehow making quick work of putting the door back up, though begrudgingly.

Everything about this was so… bizarre. Did you enter The Twilight Zone? Deidre was so calm and somehow you felt… comforted? How did she create such an atmosphere? The warm cup in your hand, the easy of the air around you, as if a safety blanket had been placed on you.

Deidre sat in the chair next to you, sipping her tea and looking at you expectantly. Her face had softened from when she had answered the door but her eyes were still calculating. You never had a moment to really analyze her before this, but she did give off the vibes of a mystic grandma you’d find in a cottage in the woods that you could only ever find once and never on purpose. Her hair was unruly, curly and barely tamed in a bun. Her dress seemed stuffy, an older fashion and well worn. Deidre seemed old and timeless at the same time, something of an ethereal, magical being.

“There is no magic in what I do,” Deidre started as if reading your thoughts, “but it can seem like magic to those not in touch with the world around them. I am a medium and can commune with spirits who are still with us. I don’t necessarily get to choose which spirits reach out, much to the grieving’s’ dismay, but it is very real. My sisters, however, would disagree.”

“Sister… plural as in… multiple sisters?”

“Yes, yes, we all look the same. Our mother had a hard time telling us apart. It was quite fun to pull pranks on unsuspecting guests. We are rather estranged now, splitting off in our beliefs. I practice spiritualism but my sisters… They would believe in something as silly as magic. Or use it against marks to get money. They love a good grift, the charlatan.”

Sevika huffed a laugh before sitting down in the last available seat. “So, what, you’re going to bring out a Ouija board and ask the spirits which one of your sisters turned Silco into a cat?”

Deidre did not like Sevika’s attitude one bit. She acted completely different from how she treated you. “It’s naysayers like you that are the reason I don’t advertise my profession as I wish to. No amount of proof will suffice to someone who refuses to believe. Besides, the spirits are not omniscient and I don’t partake so much in the physical demonstration.” She sat back in her chair, her eyes trained back on you.

“I’m not asking.” Sevika broke a cookie in her hand, staring menacingly at Deidre.

The older woman didn’t break eye contact with you as she responded. “Your forcefulness does not encourage the spirits. You’ll get nowhere with it.”

Deidre had all of her attention directed at you, as if it was your turn in a game and she was waiting for you to move. It wasn’t aggressive, more like she was pushing you to do better, like a mentor would. You just wished you knew what game you were playing and what the fucking rules were.

*~*~*

So, in my absence, I have been consuming a lot of podcasts, specifically one called Behind the Bastards. Highly recommend, 10/10, you will go insane. It lead me to a podcast called Ghost Church about American Spiritualism. I became intrigued as it aligns more with my beliefs somewhat. I'm not making fun of it but I am pulling from it for inspiration. The sisters, however, will make fun of it as they will each be inspired by different forms of religion that popped up around that time. Their look and their name are pulled from those people who popularized believing in spirits and having contact with the world beyond. So, you might learn a thing with this silly fic, who knows.

#crab writes #crab fics #silco x reader #silco x you #arcane silco #lol silco #the crime lord's new groove #silco x oc

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crab-instruments · 7 months

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#yuri moodboard

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crab-instruments · 7 months

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Being knocked out for more than 5 minutes means very serious brain damage but humans not having a turn-off button would do immense damage to our collective storytelling. So many films and books and videogames just wouldn't happen if writers stopped bonking their characters on the head. Insane.

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crab-instruments · 7 months

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do u think price sparkles in the sun?

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crab-instruments · 7 months

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I love your silco cat fic! It’s hilarious! I feel if silco was a cat he’d look like this, these lanky goblin eared cats are so adorably ridiculous looking

Omg that’s also a great depiction of him. Just all around pathetic looking. The eyes and ears combo is so good. That cat looks almost part bat. You could pick that cat up and he’d be all limbs.

I always think he gives off airs, so he’d look regal. Like my cat looks beautiful, sophisticated, I’ve even been told she also seems to be human when you look into her eyes. But I know that in truth, she’s the most ungraceful chaos demon trapped inside the fluffy body of a calico with two brain cells. I also think he’d have a bit of singed fur, like when my first cat discovered the baseboard heaters in my apartment and sat in front of them too long.

But that’s just me, I adore the idea of Silco turning into a cat like the goblin you’ve shared and struggling so hard to understand how legs work, like a new born giraffe. This is the second form, where he’s fighting a losing battle against being stuck in the world’s greatest predator shaped body, limited only by size and brain processing power

#crab answers #the crime lord’s new groove #Silco the cat

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crab-instruments · 7 months

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The OT as text posts part 7

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crab-instruments · 7 months

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The Crime Lord’s New Groove Part 5

Master <Part 4 Part 6>

Pairing: Silco x GN Reader

Summary: You find that your boss, Silco, has been turned into a cat.

Warnings: none

a/n: I'm not dead, just listening to podcast about people with delusions of grandeur, and maybe that's where this story will end up.

Smuggling cat-Silco into his office was much easier than getting him out. It helped Sevika could glare anyone into submission, forcing them to look down at the ground while you carried the precious cargo that was your boss.

You and Sevika tore the office apart, searching for any clues. Random cursed objects, cat claws and whiskers used for a sacrifice, even Shimmer tainted catnip. There was nothing, though it’s not like either of you knew what to look for. Besides, neither of you spent enough time in the office to know if something was out of place.

The cat himself clearly had other things to do. You watched as Silco tapped objects around with mild interest, using some to test the gravity in the office. A small pile of trinkets and pens amassed on the floor as time went on. Every once and a while, Silco would sit his scruffy-looking ass down, tail wrapped over his front paws, and stare holes into you and Sevika. His look was bored, as if expecting to be entertained. Neither of you knew what he wanted, so he would go back to tapping objects.

“So, what you’re telling me is… you know nothing.”

Never taking your eye off a pen as it rolled under the desk, you responded dejectedly. “Well, when you put it that way, it sounds like I didn’t try. However, I think I’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty here.”

Sevika scoffed. “Right. You have no answers and no leads but you definitely deserve a raise.”

You groaned and swiveled your head toward the golden armed warrior. “It’s not like I was here when it happened and I already told you my suspect is—”

“A lady with no appointment, who said something, and left without anyone noticing.”

“Yeah so, I mean, that’s not nothing—”

“There are many ladies in Zaun, you moron, it barely narrows it down.”

“I’m not exactly an expert in therianthropy or shapeshifting. I work behind the bar most nights! Y’all don’t even trust me enough to do inventory, so I fail to see how this is remotely my problem.” You dug the heals of your hands into your eyes and sighed, annoyed at how unlucky you were to have been the one to have found Silco. “Do you remember what that old hag looked like, from yesterday? She was the last one you saw come in here, right? Could you describe her enough so I could draw her face and see if we can use that to ask around?”

It was quiet for a moment. You looked up to see both Silco and Sevika staring at you incredulously. Raising your arms in question, you glared back at the two.

Sevika huffed, “You can draw? I’ve seen your handwriting, it’s dogshit.”

Underpaid and underappreciated, you wondered why you even offered and why you were still here. You grabbed a pen off the floor and some loose paper, making room on the messy desk. The sketch of the woman’s face started out generic, a base for Sevika to go off of.

It was all going fine until a few lines started to get out of hand and the pen became difficult to use. You scowled at Silco, who was much closer and swatting the moving pen. Lifting the pen out of reach, you frowned, trying to convey your annoyance. No emotion showed on his face, only focused on his target.

A silent battle was fought between the two of you. Silco looked at you with defiant eyes. This was Silco’s desk, pen, paper, and office, and if he wanted to play with the pen, it was his right. However, you were trying to help make him not a cat and his little paws were interfering with that work. After a few seconds, you made your attack. You lifted Silco up, keeping him at arms length, and placed him on the chair all while ignoring the deepening scowl the scruffy feline gave.

“If Silco remembers what happened while he was a cat, he’ll kill you. Maybe worse.”

You sighed, “He’ll have to get in line. Just tell me what the lady looked like.”

Silco accepted his fate, stretching his claws into the seat of the chair, walking in a circle, and curling up into a fluffy ball.

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

After pulling the details out from Sevika, which was more difficult than you could have imagined (like it was Sevika’s job to keep them secret and close to her heart), you had a sketch to go off of. When you had a moment to finally look at it, you were sure you messed up somewhere.

You turned to Sevika, the sketch outstretched in your hands. “Is this what she looked like?”

“Shit, that looks just like the woman. It’s almost like you’ve seen her before.”

Silco snapped his head up, eyes bleary from sleep, now alert. He uncurled himself from the chair to leap onto the desk for a better vantage point. A single paw tapped your wrist impatiently a few times until you laid out the sketch on the desk. Silco took a few steps back, taking in the portrait. His head tilted from side to side before he pounced on the paper and looked up at you, meowing in approval.

“Even Silco agrees.” You rubbed your face, giving yourself a moment to think. “Well, the good news is, I know who the woman is.”

“Really? Who?”

“My landlord.”

Seivka stood and started making her way toward the door. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get going.”

“Wait! But I live there! I can’t go accusing my landlord of witchcraft, she’ll evict me.”

“How is that my problem?”

You sputtered, thrown off kilter by Sevika’s lack of empathy. “Where would I live?”

Before Sevika could answer, Silco meowed loud enough to startle you both. He held his presence as if he was human again, demanding respect and attention. It was easy to forget how powerful he was when he looked so cute and fluffy.

“Silco will reward you for helping him, of course.”

Sighing, you considered the offer. Realistically, you couldn’t say no to Silco anyway. “Fine, but let me talk to her first. I’ll try to negotiate nicely and if that doesn’t work, you can be the bad cop.”

The golden armed brute looked toward that cat sitting on the desk, waiting for approval. Silco sat up straight, regal as always, and looked between the two of you. He nodded and blinked slowly. It was a weird scene to experience, waiting for a cat to dictate the path of your future.

The same cat that started grooming himself on top of the desk.

“The boss has spoken, let’s go.”

Part 6

*~*~*

#crab fics #silco x reader #silco x you #lol silco #arcane silco #the crime lord's new groove

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crab-instruments · 7 months

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Snippet of a potential fic

Just This One Time

Teen Wolf x Supernatural crossover

a/n: It's been a long time since I've really written anything, even with ideas floating around. I've been rewatching Teen Wolf and it's my current, stupid obsession. Reading other people's fics, I kept thinking about how I would want a crossover to play out, but never finding one I liked. Hell, I don't even care about Supernatural but I found myself researching Polish rock bands for Dean and Sam's identities for a scene where Stiles would point out they can't say the Polish names right, so I started to just write. I don't know if I'll actually finish this but I am posting it more for myself as accountability (though if people like it, that would be encouraging). Not sure of a pairing and if there is one, it'll likely be pre-slash but Sterek since Stiles will be one of the main narrators.

Stiles knew something was up the moment he laid eyes in the two men dressed in suits, parading around the sheriff’s station as FBI agents. He didn’t need werewolf senses to know these two were sketchy. Sheriff Stilinski, his very cruel flesh and blood, had kicked Stiles out of his office when the two had arrived and introduced themselves. It was like the Sheriff didn’t trust his own son with information about high priority cases.

The officers in the room ignored Stiles as he sank quietly to his knees in front of the door, pressing his ear against the door. They were quite used to Stiles snooping and it was always better to ignore the teenager because dealing with him was much more work.

While he was uncomfortable in the position, Stiles didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to create any noise that could bring attention to himself, forcing the Sheriff to kick him out further. It was at moments like this he really envied his furry friends, unable to hear much through the door. The teenager focused a little harder and his efforts were rewarded.

Agent Ciechowski and Agent Ciesielski.

Stiles barely heard the names through the door but it was hard for him to mistake Polish names. Not with an abomination like his first name. Other phrases like ‘animal attacks’ and ‘claw related injuries’ seeped through the door. He couldn’t hear anything else though, as Deputy Parrish yanked him away from the door by the collar of his shirt.

“Hey! Hey! Don’t stretch the shirt out, man! Come on!” The sound of his sneakers squeaked in the bustling room and his arms flailed wildly as he attempted to stand under Parrish’s grip.

“Stiles, I heard the Sheriff tell you to go home, so you should get going. You’re already on thin ice.” Deputy Parrish was young, competent, and well acquainted with the teenager’s shenanigans. He heard enough from the Sheriff and observed the rest with his own eyes.

Stiles faced the deputy, trying to convey his uneasiness with the several expressions flittering across his face in seconds. His brain worked quickly to figure out how he could convince Parrish to help him. “But…! Parrish, don’t they seem weird? They don’t give off an ‘FBI’ vibe. Something is off about them.” To drive the point home, Stiles shifted his weight from foot to foot, uneasy.

Parrish considered the words for a moment, deciphering if this was Stiles’ instincts hitting the mark once again, or it if this was Stiles’ usual brand of bullshit and he was just trying to stick his nose where it didn’t belong. “Why do you think that?” He questioned, lowering his voice and leaning into the teenager’s space to make the conversation more private.

His mouth in a thin line, Stiles eyes scanned the room for answers. “Well, it’s just… I have a feeling.”

“A feeling?”

“Yeah. A feeling. Can’t you see it? About their…” Stiles gestured wildly with his arms, “everything?”

The deputy frowned, almost disappointed in the kid. He expected a better excuse. Parrish straightened his posture and put his hands on his tactical belt. “Go home, Stiles. I’ll keep an eye on them, and I promise, if I see anything suspicious—“

“You’ll tell me?”

“—I’ll talk to your father, the Sheriff of Beacon Hills and my boss, and I’ll share our concerns.”

An exasperated sigh escaped the teenager. Without Parrish on his side, there wasn’t much else he could do at the station. Stiles would have to go do research on his own, possibly give Danny a call and somehow bribe him to break the law again. Had Danny hacked the FBI database before? Maybe if Stiles presented it as a challenge, it could work.

Stiles made his way to his Jeep in the parking lot, but stopped abruptly when he saw a vintage car he didn’t recognize parked a few spots away. Beacon Hills wasn’t that big; he’d have recognized that car if he had seen it before. The only black, noteworthy car in this town was Derek’s Camaro. Therefore, this had to be the car the FBI agents rolled up in. Looking around to make sure there wasn’t eyes on him, Stiles pulled out his phone and took pictures of the car, making sure to get the license plate number to check out later. He noted that the plates were from Kansas and there was nothing signifying that this was a government vehicle.

The Jeep pulled out of the parking lot quickly, much on the teenagers mind.

Opening his laptop, Stiles typed in the first agents name, Ciechowski, into Google. The name sounded familiar, possibly from his mom telling stories of her Polish friends. When the results popped up, Stiles squinted. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but it sure wasn’t the bio of a Polish rock star. The band, Republika, sounded familiar but Stiles couldn’t place why.

Digging a bit more, he found the band’s website. Stiles opened the page and couldn’t stop himself from playing one of the songs, Bikini Death.

The staccato notes from the guitar played through his speakers and Stiles realized why he recognized the singer. The band Grzegorz Ciechowski was a part of was one his mom used to play for him when he was younger, to connect him with his heritage. She had told the story of how she saw them live once and cried when Grzegorz had died.

The memories of his mother ripped a scar open inside his chest, but he couldn’t stop now.

It all came together when Stiles read the names of the band members. One in particular stood out.

Sławomir Ciesielski.

The FBI agents had taken their identities from the Polish rock band. It was what Stiles needed to confirm his suspicions.

These two men were likely hunters checking up on the werewolf population of Beacon Hills.

***

Here's a link to the song, Bikini Death by Republika. There is a Polish version, but I like this remastered version. The title is a line from the song. Mamona and Psy Pawłowa were runner ups.

#crab writes #crab fics #teen wolf fic #supernatural fic #teen wolf #just this one time #wip #while self indulgent the fic will be semi realistic #supernatural #I'm writing this so it stops fermenting and poisoning my brain #also so I will stop listening to behind the bastards and hating people throughout history #snippet #stiles stilinski #teen wolf stiles

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