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teecupangel · 5 months

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Bayek meeting Desmond?

Like, Desmond gets transported back to Egyptian times and becomes a merchant or protector of some small town, and Bayek comes waltzing through.

They meet and Desmond (who may be a bit thick) doesn't connect the Hidden Ones/Assassin/Medjay relationship. And Bayek just sees this guy who might be Greek and obviously isn't Egyptian protecting this small Egyptian town. Chaos ensues.

Romance may bloom?

It would be possible for Desmond to not put two and two together because he’s never even heard of the Hidden Ones and only saw Amunet’s statue as a ‘proto-Assassin’.

There’s also this sense of loyalty he feels towards the ‘Assassin Brotherhood’ as a title because of his Bleed of Altaïr.

As far as he knows, their Creed started with the Brotherhood.

And the Hidden Ones do their best to stay out of sight after what had happened before in Sinai.

It also helps that the small town he decided to dig his roots in was an out of the way peaceful town.

They rarely get visitors and, even when they do, those people turn out to either be a relative of one or more of the townspeople or a traveler who got lost.

Desmond got a small house with a small plot of land that can be converted to farmland by saving the son of the village chief who had been chased by a pack of wild animals and had to climb a tree in fear.

Desmond had just been passing by, debating if he should try his luck in going to what would later be called Levant or to just… stop somewhere and try to build a life there.

He was so tired.

So very tired.

And the people of the town had been kind to him. They didn’t ask why he was traveling all by himself.

They even stopped asking about his past after Desmond told them it was a ‘not a kind one’.

And now, here he was…

Working on his farm using the knowledge he had from the small farm that the Farm had, the books Altaïr and Ezio had read during their lifetime about agriculture and the tips and suggestions from his neighbors and fellow townspeople.

And one day…

He appears.

Bayek of Siwa.

He calls himself a traveler.

A few drinks later and he admits to being the last Medjay, traveling the lands to ensure its peace and to help those who need a hand.

Desmond had simply been in the village’s house with most of the men because they wished to present a united front in front of a traveler armed to the teeth.

Desmond saw his missing ring finger and thought of it as a coincidence.

Then…

Their paths intersect once more while Desmond was out in the wilderness near the town, bow in hand and quiver filled with arrows to hunt.

They met by accident and Bayek admits that he heard there were ruins nearby.

Desmond heard the tale, of course.

An ancient city, deep underground, holding the ground from caving in and burying everything with strong stable pillars too many to count.

Desmond has heard of the tales.

And he knew the name.

To be more exact…

His Bleed of Altaïr knew of the name…

Imar.

The fabled City of Pillars.

He also knows that this city was supposed to be somewhere in Levant or near Levant, not here in Egypt.

The tale the villagers would tell their children was that it wasn’t a city.

It was an underground road that would lead to the fabled city.

Desmond never saw anything, not even his Eagle Vision could find anything of interest in this town or anywhere nearby.

The most interesting thing his Eagle Vision had pinged was the gold in the village chief’s house and that was actually the chest where he stored the funds he would use to maintain the towns’ buildings and roads.

But if this man believes he can find that city then Desmond felt the need to follow him.

Because if there really was an underground city or a road that would lead to it nearby?

That could only mean…

There was an Isu facility nearby.

… and perhaps a POE as well.

Cue a DLC-length storyline of Bayek looking for an underground city with a mysterious young man who seems to embody the core principles of a Hidden One.

#desmond doesn’t have a hidden blade #otherwise bayek would be super sus of him already #desmond doesn’t recognize bayek’s hidden blade #because (1) he uses his sword and shield most of the time and #(2) bayek’s hidden blade look a lot like a normal gauntlet in desmond’s eyes #this is after the main story and dlcs #so that bayek and aya have both moved on #ask and answer #what do we call this?#baymond #baydes #XD #assassin's creed #desmond miles #bayek of siwa #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed

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romance-rambles · 21 days

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319 ROSES AND A DATE

Alkaid gets asked on a date by the girl he desperately wanted to ask out, at least before he found out who the flowers were for. You'd like to maintain that nothing you said was a lie.

— pairing: [modern] alkaid mcgrath x little painter/you

— word count: 2.8k

— tags: takes place after alkaid's florist ending [everything else happens the same way, except alkaid's first meeting with mc happens after godheim], misunderstandings [not unrequited love], some angst

— note: i was moved to try and write a flower shop au at least once after godheim but destiny's call really helped me out. handed me everything on a gold platter and said, "go to town, aya."

return to lbc masterlist | series: none

ALKAID STARES DOWN BLANKLY AT the bouquet of white roses in his hands. At some point during his stunned silence, he had unwittingly taken them off yours, just as you had hoped for.

All 319 of them, to be precise—which is a number that, put in a different context, can also refer to 3/19, the day of his birth. Even with the limited capacity he has at the moment to sort out the events that led up to this moment, he can't help the way his heart flutters at the knowledge that you remembered, even though so much time has passed.

"Alkaid?" A gentle tap against his shoulder robs the flowers of their spotlight. "Do you...not like the flowers?"

He looks up and sees you, still here—still dressed so beautifully he's once more in danger of succumbing to asphyxiation, with a fretful expression that makes him wonder if he's already there. When he does not respond, you close the remaining distance between them, obscuring all else from his vision.

It is a problem only because he has nowhere left to run.

"No," he croaks out finally, leaning back over the counter to accommodate you.

Obliviously, you move closer, leaving him with no choice but to avert his gaze once more. Alkaid can only hope you aren't offended—that you don't think he finds you unattractive, with how often he does so. It's only that your beaming smile reminds him of what it feels like to stare down the sun.

"They're lovely."

Satisfied with his answer, you pull back. Your hands are clasped behind your back, and your ponytail sways slightly, once more retreating behind your shoulder. There's an adorable star-shaped pin fastened onto the strap of your cross-body bag.

He sighs discretely, relieved, and pulls the bouquet up to his face as casually as he can. The petals, he hopes, will be enough to cover up the deep scarlet staining his cheeks.

"I'm glad!" You clap your hands together. "I was worried they wouldn't be to your liking. Maybe I should've asked you what your favorite flower was before I tried asking you out."

A self-deprecating laugh slips out as you scratch your cheek. An intricate design spans the length of your nail now—shades of red and green shaped into what he can clearly recognize as halves of a rose hugging the edges—against a black background.

Alkaid bites his lip, converting the interrupted gasp into a quiet exhale.

"You guessed right. I like white roses," he says, hoping desperately that his words are nothing less than reassuring. "Though they share that spot with lilies as well."

"Lilies," you repeat, a determined gleam in your lovely eyes. "I'll keep that in mind for next time."

He bites his lip harder.

THE MORNING HE'S DUE TO hand off your flowers, Alkaid finds himself contemplating the benefits of coffee behind the register.

Though his favorite concealer and his usual color corrector have done much to brighten up his undereyes, they can do little for the grogginess that comes with staying awake the whole night (Why such a specific number? Who are they for? Do you remember him at all?). And, by the time the clock strikes nine, he's already downed three cups of strongly-brewed tea.

What pushes him to finally break away from his usual preferences is a simple headache.

The store is empty, and there remains more than half an hour before you're set to arrive. A sharp twinge of pain in the side of his head as he stands up to check on your flowers draws out a careful hiss. Alkaid, with some amount of lingering hesitance, flips the sign on his door to closed, with a note explaining the rough length of absence. Then he walks out the door, his destination the artsy cafe across the street—the one that makes him think of you whenever he walks in.

Allen, the normally deadpan barista on duty, seems to shut down when Alkaid corrects him on his order. Soon, the news spreads to the rest of the employees, who take turns staring at him as he leaves with a warm thermos of coffee in his hands.

But, in the end, it proves to be an unnecessary trip.

You're already in front of his flower shop when he returns, half-crouched and studying the sign the way someone might study a work of abstract art. Today, too, you have a large, dark blue backpack slung over both your shoulders, its surface decorated with various pins and stickers—mostly of a cat, your cat, but also of a popular manga that you seem to like.

In Passing, that is.

It's about a love triangle featuring a tyrant emperor and a well-liked leader of the rebellion. Even without the reviews praising it for subverting expectations, Alkaid would've picked it up anyway.

He's on the third volume right now, and—

Hmm? His eyebrows furrow. Where did I leave it? In my bag?

All of a sudden, the sleep that had been so insistent on dragging his eyelids down vanishes. Alkaid wracks his brain desperately for the answers, stomach churning at the thought of you finding out about his latest reading material.

Unfortunately, you choose that moment to turn around.

"Oh, Alkaid!"

Your confused expression soon melts away, leaving behind only a cheerful smile. Tightening his grip on his thermos, he exhales silently, before flashing you a gentle smile.

"You're here." Time stops as you begin to approach him, your keychains singing a short jingle to accompany you. Your expression softens, as does your voice. "You didn't forget about me, right?"

Alkaid can only sputter out a half-coherent apology.

The words get drowned out by the insistent, purposeful beating of his heart. It's as if it wants to claw itself out of his chest and entrust itself to your hands, as it is, with shattered bones sticking out of it.

You laugh prettily, as always. "It's okay. I'm just joking."

Then, like a moth to a flame, his gaze falls upon your lips. A soft red, with a glossy sheen, one that matches the color of your skirt. On a plain canvas, it's all the more striking. It leaves him wondering about things he, currently a stranger, shouldn't be fretting over.

He's not sure how long he stares for, with slightly parted lips and a series of half-realized thoughts chiding at him to stop—only that it's not long enough for you to grow uncomfortable.

Alkaid clears his throat, holding up his thermos (I should've bought her something too, he thinks) as an explanation. "I apologize for the wait. I went over to the cafe across the street."

"Coffee lover?" you guess, making room for him to open the door.

"I'm usually more of a tea person." As he slips inside the store, he can't help but chuckle self-consciously, remembering all the different ways he imagined this scene playing out. Naturally, his next words are nothing more than the most blatant lie he's ever told. "I thought I'd try something else for a change."

"Is it a nice place?" Upon seeing the puzzled look he sends over his shoulder, you clarify, "The cafe. I've seen the reviews, but I think only experience can beat the testimony of someone you know."

He considers your question for a moment. "The staff is very friendly. I often stop by during lunch for their sandwiches."

"I see..." you murmur.

"I think you'd like it," Alkaid blurts out as he slips in behind the register, happy to note that his copy of Volume 3 is, in fact, in his bag. "The owner enjoys collecting art—there's a lot of different paintings all over the cafe. Um, since you're an art major."

"Well, now I have to try it out." You don't seem particularly startled that he knows about your major; instead, you take to drawing patterns across the wooden countertop. He thinks he sees the familiar curve of an A. "The cookies you recommended last time were really great too."

When he keeps his silence, the complete opposite of what the state of his mind currently is (she remembers?), you look up.

"Hmm?" You tilt your head, confusion clouding your once smiling expression. "Do I have the wrong person? You're Alkaid, right? From that time in the snow mountains?"

He forces himself to nod, but that too is enough.

A shy smile blossoms on your lips, paired with both a brief flash of relief flitting through your gaze and the slight, almost imperceptible widening of your eyes. Placing your hands above your heart, you sigh exaggeratedly.

"You had me worried for a moment," you say. Your eyelashes cast a dark shadow on your undereyes. "I thought we'd never meet again."

For a moment, he wonders if there's more to your sorrow than you let on. Does it have anything to do with the way you disappeared? Somewhere so far away that no one could reach you at all?

Alkaid shakes off his thoughts.

"But we did," he responds carefully. I never thought we'd meet again either, he does not say instead. "Whether it was destiny, whether it was just a coincidence, we did. All we can do is make the most of it."

A tinge of sadness mars your lovely smile. "I think that sounds lovely."

SOON AFTER THEIR REUNION, DONE properly this time, down to exchanging numbers, Alkaid excuses himself to go fetch your flowers. When he returns, lovesick heart brimming with curiosity over the recipient's identity once more, he finds you've returned to doodling on the counter.

"Here they are, 319 white roses," he announces.

There's a blank expression on your face when you look up. Slowly, as recognition dawns upon you, it melts away to something bitter and rough. Its jagged edges dig into his his heart, leaving a paralyzing mix of sadness and longing to wash over him.

And then—

"Thank you," you say, and take the flowers off his hand.

His hand twitches, yearning for the camera he still keeps in his backpack, for the days where he feels like memorializing something instead. Lovely is the only word he has to describe you as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ears and pull the bouquet close with a faint smile.

Then, you close your eyes, and you inhale deeply. Once more, you are somewhere else—somewhere far, somewhere he can't reach.

"Ah, sorry." You crack one eye open. Now, the bouquet is clutched against your chest, but your sadness remains. "I guess I'm a bit nervous. I don't know if he'll like the flowers."

He? From some far corner of his mind, he recalls the image of your guardian. A tall man, with long silver hair and a pleasant, but guarded expression. Cael, he thinks is the name.

"For your guardian?" Alkaid inquires.

Your smile drops entirely at the mention of your guardian. A complicated series of emotions flash in your gaze, soon averted to one of the potted plants at the display. Scratching your cheek, you offer him a polite laugh.

Today, only some of your nails are a plain black. The rest remain bare.

"No, it's not for Cael." You answer carefully. "Actually—"

Looking down at the flowers, you take a deep breath. When next you speak, your voice has reclaimed the softness it'd shown him earlier—your searching gaze as well. You leave him with the truth, imparting it onto him like a mischievous secret.

"There's someone I'd like to ask out."

His stomach drops, and you leave him with the memory of lovelorn smile, forever imprinted behind his eyelids.

"I hope he says yes."

[3:00 PM] you: Alkaid, do you have any plans tonight?

[3:17 PM] alkaid: No, I'm free

[3:21 PM] alkaid: Did something happen?

[3:22 PM] you:

[3:22 PM] you: I haven't asked him out yet. Gonna do it soon

[3:23 PM] you: All of my other friends are busy rn.

[3:24 PM] you: Is it okay if I stop by after you close up shop?

[3:24 PM] you: I'd want to talk to someone about it

[4:31 PM] alkaid: Of course

SOMEHOW, ALKAID MANAGES TO GET through the rest of the day.

His heart is held together haphazardly with duct tape and carefully-placed staples, though their efforts are thwarted constantly by a popular refrain (You hardly know him. Of course there's someone else.), and he's one stubbed toe away from being reduced to tears, but he manages. Somehow.

He swallows down his what-ifs and maybes and waits, watching the hands on his wristwatch inch ever closer to six in the evening. And eventually, the vaguely promised time arrives.

As he's stepping out from behind the register, a familiar chime echoes cuts through the silence. Alkaid looks up and sees you, dressed still in red and black, your turtleneck and skirt swapped out for a knee-length dress.

"Hi."

The bouquet of white roses—held in both hands, a stark contrast to the black leather jacket you're wearing—covers up its neckline. You smile sheepishly at him, pulling at the mesh of your bright red skirt to mimic a curtsy.

You're beautiful. Even the flowers surrounding them pale in comparison. Even the aurora they'd seen together pales in comparison. You rob him of his breath and leave gasping for a reprieve, but so long as he keeps his memory in even the smallest capacity, that's simply impossible.

The familiar knife called jealousy stabs into his heart, leaving him keenly aware of his longing. He averts his gaze, but the damage has already been done. You are beautiful, and he has waited years to see you.

"Hi." Alkaid swallows uncomfortably, as the sound of your footsteps draws closer. In a panic, his hands brace themselves against the edge of the counter. "Was something wrong with the flowers? I thought—"

A mysterious expression sits upon your features when you pull his gaze onto you, seemingly oblivious to your magnetic power.

With a deep breath, you thrust the flowers at him, knuckles brushing against his chest. You pull back for a moment, taking your flowers with you, and the soft coral of your blush makes it difficult to discern whether you find yourself a victim the of same scarlet blooming across his cheeks.

"That's—" You cough politely. There's a heart-shaped pendant dangling from your golden necklace. The dress is either strapless or your jacket has covered up the straps. "—what I'm here to find out."

Alkaid tilts his head. His confused gaze darts across his surroundings and stops at the glass window of the store's display, thinking perhaps that your mystery boy might be outside. But while the streets are not barren, there is no one outside his store.

You say his name in the same way you told him your secret. Like it's something precious. Like it's something you love. And the truth begins to settle into his bones with a finality that deafens the half-coherent puzzle pieces he's been trying to fit together—he is the only one you could possibly ask out in this empty store.

He has no choice but to look back. At you, and the bouquet you're offering him.

"Would you like to go to the movies with me?"

AND THAT IS HOW HE finds himself with the beginnings of a bruise forming on his lip. He doesn't mind, not when the sting he feels as he wets his lip reminds him that this is not, in fact, a dream (It feels like it though, he thinks), nor a fantasy.

"You...you don't have a girlfriend, do you? It's been a while since then..."

You rub your arm lightly, muttering about something he can't understand, and what else is Alkaid meant to do but take your hand? He squeezes it gently, tickled to find that he can return the favor for all the times you've stolen his breath away.

Your lips part slightly, but whatever you hoped to say does not leave the confines of your mysterious mind. Instead, you draw some of your hair from both sides over your flushed cheeks.

"Nothing like that," he reassures, smiling gently at you. "I'm just surprised. I didn't realize you were talking about me."

"That's a reli—what." In a single moment, your voice goes from girlishly breathless to an irritated flat. Releasing your hair, you blink uncomprehendingly at him. "How?"

Watching you descend into another muttered ramble, Alkaid shrugs. "If you'd still like that date..."

You whip your head in his direction. "Then it's a date!"

The first time he met you, it was when you had fished out of the snow and offered him a warm drink to fight off the cold. They had talked about miscellaneous things, from your half-hearted desire to request a camera for your birthday to who could make the better model between them both.

And back then, he had thought to himself that there was no sound more beautiful than your laugh.

Almost four years after the fact, as he watches you giggle, Alkaid can confidently say his past self had the right idea. Such a specific title leaves him with room to declare your follow-up smile to be just as breathtaking.

#fics by aya #lovebrush chronicles #lovebrush chronicles x reader #alkaid mcgrath #alkaid mcgrath x reader #lovebrush alkaid #lovebrush alkaid x reader #lbc alkaid #lbc alkaid x reader #little painter #rambles from here on ->#i feel like lars has the common sense not to act like a ceo in a manhwa but i really do think cael would think this is fine #i feel like he'd probably be like “this is the least i can do”#that said i am curious if mc paid for those flowers with her own money?? is her mom rich too #i feel like she'd still be funded by lars (because fan) LOL he also coached her on how to ask alkaid out it's the blind leading the blind #should i write mc's pov too LOL #this was just supposed to be silly little misunderstandings and now there's ANGST and BACKSTORY and MORE ANGST

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askthedoa · 4 months

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*kidnap Aya and sigma*

GIVE ME BACK THE CHILDREN

#NOOO NOT SIGMA AND AYA!#THE SANE ONES!!!#bungou stray dogs #bsd ask #bsd #bsd asks #bram answers #bram bsd

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disbnad · 10 months

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୧ ‧₊˚ nayeon users ˚₊ ‧ ୨

imyeons inycent starrnae

naeofive nyeonic virgonce

sxteens feelsoim allornon

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mikkokomori · 1 year

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Au where omori has a freakin chainsaw

I'm gonna be brainrotting over this thanks

#omori really went fuck it Aya time!!! *mad fathers himself*#mikos art #omori omori #omori au #omori #yumyummumbox asks #miko panta #miko talks

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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 1 year

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First of all, I just want to say. I called it lol

Finally an sskk face off since the sacrifice. I am going insane. I can’t articulate all my thoughts rn but something about the way Atsushi aimed a kick at Akutagawa that he fully expected the guy to block (because they know each other’s usual fighting styles!!!) only for it to connect and hurt him; Atsushi begging Akutagawa to recognize him because even if he still can’t consciously admit it, Atsushi has become convinced that Akutagawa wouldn’t be attacking him like this if he knew it was him; pleading for him to snap out of it and demanding to know why he saved him aghhhhh I’m going feral we know the reason Atsushi we know whyyyyy

I can’t believe it actually. We are at the point where sskk do not want to genuinely hurt each other. Atsushi attacked only out of self defence and was taken aback by actually breaking his wrist. Akutagawa refused to kill Atsushi in the Fukuchi fight and Atsushi is now convinced he’d stop attacking if he recognized him. Holy shit. Oh my god.

And Sigma badass moment! My boy, he pulled through! Either him or Chuuya had to break the stalemate; hell yeah, validation. Wasn’t there a meme someone made? “Prison arc -> prison arc if Sigma still had a gun”? Well Sigma’s got a gun and things are picking up babyyyy! His retort to Fyodor was quite possibly the funniest thing he could’ve said in response. Just completely shut him down. Using what he’s learned running the empty home Fyodor previously tried to buy his trust with. Beautiful. ADA Sigma real??? (I think the story will have to acknowledge his very public involvement with Taneda’s shooting and the acts of terrorism the Hunting Dogs now know he is responsible for… so I’m not sure how that will go but I’d like to see him end up with the Agency tbh… so long as it makes sense.)

Things I did not expect:

Mysterious note left in Russian??? It could be Mykola I suppose but… why? What happened? If he’s actually in trouble I doubt he’d need help escaping. Is it a trap? But what for? Alternatively… could it be Pushkin? He was in Meursault initially right? We never found out what his connection was. It could be a new Russian author too! Intriguing! There’s also the matter of it being written in Russian in the first place - who is it meant for? Sigma specifically? Or is it meant for someone else who speaks Russian?

Dazai is actually injured! I was certain he had something ready to get out on his own but I like this much better. Tbh I know this sounds bad but I’m actually way more invested now that Dazai has a broken leg and Fyodor was just shot. There’s higher stakes, you know? Damn though. I think Dazai’s injuries are. Worse. He’s being terribly self-sacrificial, and is apparently going to face off against Chuuya next time we see him. I do think now the stakes would be too low if Chuuya was completely free of the brainwashing tbh… I’m hoping for a double “I know you’re in there” fight between skk and sskk. Not that Dazai can do much physically but his strength has always been with words anyways, and I am certain Chuuya’s already fighting back. And I know Atsushi will reach Akutagawa. Manifesting sskk reunion where they challenge Fukuchi again and win this time via the power of unbreakable trust (delusional).

Sigma asks Fyodor “WHAT are you?” Which is interesting, and I’m hoping will acknowledge the way Fyodor doesn’t seem to age… but also intriguing is the “getting closer” part on the side which implies he’s not quite right. I think Fyodor will still turn out to be human tbh (it’d be weird otherwise, thematically), but now I’m starting to lend a little more weight to that theory about a Fyodor double…

Well anyways. This was a lot. I’m going to helplessly whir about it for a bit now.

#bsd #bsd spoilers #bsd chapter 107 #storyrambles #I just want an incredibly homoerotic showdown between skk and sskk where Dazai and Atsushi snap their partners out #of the brainwashing so Chuuya can wreak havoc while Dazai watches him with stars in his eyes as he’s crumpled on the floor #and Akutagawa can immediately go off to fight Fukuchi so he doesn’t have to answer Atsushi who is behind him #relieved and irritated and asking him why he chose to save him on repeat #‘I am asking you a question here!’ ‘I cannot hear you jinko we have more pressing matters keep up’#aya leaning over to bram: ‘he-he’s dodging the question!’#I take my theorizing very seriously thank you very much :P #wait. Hold on. What if. What if dazai can nullify the vampire curse but only when he’s in contact.#what if chuuya has to carry him everywhere while dazai is in physical contact with him constantly. think of the comedy. think of the gay.#actually I’m going to cry that’s so funny to me. they’d be complaining about it constantly #meanwhile you just know chuuya is worried about the extent of dazai’s injuries and dazai is still livid about the mind control #hi this is unbelievably funny to me

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etrevil · 8 months

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HOLY SHIT BRAM IS TALL

Maybe even taller than Nikolai

Now I wanna be a child on his shoulder and experience that height 😭

#DADBRAM #AND HIS DAUGHTER AYA #you cannot tell me otherwise that bram would have aya constantly on his shoulders because she asks for it #i need more fluff after #bsd chapter 110 #bsd official art #bsd manga #bsd bram #bram stoker #bsd aya #aya koda

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littencloud9 · 21 days

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Aya & Kunikida + "and what do we do now?"

THE DYNAMIC DUO EVERRR OUFHGFHJ. the context here is aya lives with kunibram. are they coparents? married with a kid? fighting for custody? who knows

"And what do we do now?" Kunikida sighs as Aya stares up at him with wide eyes, pretending to be innocent when she was the main instigator of this entire issue. The blonde kitten in Aya's hand mews pitifully. She hugs it to her chest with a pout. "I said we'll figure it out later!" "There's no later. It's already attached itself to you." "Well, that's not a problem," she laughs. "We'll just have to keep it." "No." "Why not? Bra-chan likes kittens. Besides, this one looks like you, Kunikida!" It absolutely does not. But Aya is giggling and cooing at the kitten, and to say no now would break her heart, and Kunikida simply cannot bring himself to do it. "Fine," he grumbles. "But don't let Bram bite it." "He won't. He said he only enjoys your blood these days," Aya replies casually while Kunikida trips over his own feet.

send me a sentence + pairing!

#i am coming out as a kunibram shipper. it would be so funny #bsd #kunikida doppo #koda aya #kunibram #my writing #ask game #clau <3

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andreal831 · 2 months

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I found it so absolutely crazy that the Mikaelsons (especially Klaus and Elijah) were constantly throwing Marcel’s background back in his face and just the fact that they lived in/on the same plantation that he was a slave on was absolutely wild. Marcel was so blatantly “othered” by the Mikaelsons, even though they said he was family, they always reminded him that he wasn’t ever one of them/a mikaelson and Klaus would always remind him that he was a slave before. Someone made the analogy that it’s like when a racist white family adopts a black child and make it clear that he’s not one of them and that’s quite LITERALLY what happened.

I would go as far as to say that Marbekah is not just weird because Rebekah knew him as a child, but also because of that strange power dynamic of her being a rich white woman and him being a black slave boy and that subtext there and it just doesn’t feel right (and this is a feeling I don’t get from normal interracial relationships, just THOSE TWO). And if you like Marbekah, that’s great! I just don’t lol.

And the fandom always says that “it’s just Klaus’ personality that he does and says these things to Marcel, etc” like… ugh.

And there’s other poc in TO that deal with the racism like Vincent and Inadu, etc

I love the Mikaelsons but they were so problematic to the point that I have to retcon certain things or at least insert headcanons to make me not hate them. Because you are absolutely right. It was literally a racist family playing white savior. People try to give Klaus props for killing an enslaver and freeing Marcel, but we see him kill one enslaver and free one person who was enslaved. He didn't do it because he was morally opposed to slavery. He did it for his own selfish reasons. Otherwise we would have seen more of this. People using the excuse that "oh it's just x's character to make racists comments" is very telling. It means the character is racist. They are literally saying it is part of that character. The Mikaelsons thinking it was fine to live on an actual plantation both when it was functioning and after is proof of this.

I personally do like Marbekah but they are not necessarily in my top favorite ships. I love both of the characters but I also hate how they began (same with Freelin, but I'll go into that in a moment). But again, you're absolutely right. There is not only the inappropriate dynamic that she helped raise him, to some extent, but yes, that he grew up being treated as a second class citizen, not only when he was enslaved but also when he was taken in by the Mikaelsons. There is also the bad dynamic of how possessive Klaus is over Rebekah and her romantic life. People love to say Klaus daggered Rebekah when he found out about Rebekah and Marcel because he was protecting Marcel, but let's be honest, he wouldn't have cared if it was anyone else but Rebekah. Klaus didn't have any issues going after teenagers, why would he care that Marcel was being groomed by an older woman? Klaus always treated Marcel as more of a friend than a son and we all know Klaus is not a good friend. I, once again, have to insert my own headcanon that Rebekah was not heavily invovled in Marcel's upbringing. I pretend Klaus was just as possessive of Marcel with Rebekah as he was with Elijah. We only see the one scene of Rebekah training him so I just pretend that was a one time thing and they hardly interacted outside of that. This not at all what the writers intended. They loved creepy, grooming relationships so it is completely understandable to not like them.

Marcel was treated as more of a possession than anything. I'm biased so I like to believe Elijah saw Marcel as a child at first and wanted to mentor him before Klaus got in the way. You mention Elijah throwing Marcel's history in his face, do you have an example? I am genuinely asking. I've seen people make this comment before and make comments of Elijah calling him "boy" but I for the life of me can't remember when he does, because yes, that is obviously racist. I am trying to think past my Elijah blinders, but welcome any help. Elijah is definitely condescending to him and it would be foolish of me to assume part of it isn't racism. Again, I insert my own headcanon that it is more to do with his elitism and how he speaks to everyone (i.e. the scene where he calls Klaus and Hayley "chiiillldddreeen" for bickering). But I also acknowledge that my headcanons are my own and we still need to call out the characters for their problematic behavior. The fact that Elijah doesn't lift a finger to help a single person who is being enslaved or to even condemn the slavery when he very much had the power and privilege to do something about it shows his racism, if not overt racism than at the very least covert.

I personally headcanon that Celeste set Elijah straight while they were together and got him more invovled in the abolitionist movements, because I refuse to believe Celeste was fine being with a man who was fine with slavery. I also love Elijah and refuse to love a racist so I have to insert my own head canons to fix the racist writing. I would also be remiss to point out how problematic it is that Elijah is constantly given partners who are women of color but the show only emphasizes his white counterparts. There is more love for Eelijah, a crack ship, in the fandom than Celijah, one of the two people Elijah loved by his own admission. I love haylijah, but how the women of color he dated were treated by his family, the writers, and his family, even by him, speaks volumes to their racism.

But back to Marcel. It would have made sense for Rebekah to be a mother figure to him since she is always talking about wanting kids, but the show makes it clear that there is a distinction between biological children and adopted. Here the Mikaelsons have a chance to be parents and they all squander it. It's hard to not talk about Marcel's race in that discussion. Rebekah loves her time taking care of Hope, who, while her blood, is still not her biological daughter. Why wouldn't she jump at the chance to raise a frightened boy who lost his mother at such a young age? Why wasn't he given a mother figure? Hope has like five. Marcel isn't even given a father figure. Again, Hope has like five. Because Marcel was never viewed as a child. This is a common trope where black characters, especially boys, are not seen as kids. Rather they are forced to be more mature and treated as adults, while their white counter parts are allowed immaturity. Marcel was never allowed to be a kid because the Mikaelsons didn't want a kid. They all had their own selfish desires for Marcel and they were all terrible.

I do think the Mikaelsons are also just a toxic, dysfunctional family. Literally none of them treat the others well. I love certain relationships over others, but it would be lying to say they weren't all toxic to each other. So it's no wonder all of their relationships with Marcel were toxic. Klaus undaggers Kol and instead of being angry at Klaus for keeping him in a box, he turns his anger and frustration on a literal child. You would think this resentment would fade when Kol starts dating his nephew's daughter (sorry, couldn't help myself), but it doesn't. Marcel and Kol still harbor so much animosity for each other and Kol's is merely based on Marcel being more included in the family, which is sad considering how little Marcel is included in the family. But even that extent was too much for Kol.

The writers had a fresh slate with The Originals. There was no book to attempt to follow or even to dictate character relationships. They could have done anything with Marcel, but they chose to make a black slave from the 1800s that Klaus "saved" in order to play into the idea that Klaus was a good guy underneath it all. So instead of focusing on Marcel's trauma, the story is told through the Mikaelson's perspective, the white perspective. It reminds me of so many movies, The Blind Side comes to mind. Media loves to focus on the white saviors and praise them without mentioning the trauma they actually caused while playing savior. In these stories, the white families aren't adopting a "child" they are "investing" in what that child can do for them.

I mentioned Freelin earlier and I don't think it is a coincidence that the only two instances where a white Mikaelson's endgame invovled a person of color there is a massive power imbalance. I want to love Freelin so much because I like both the characters but I struggle to get past how they met and how quickly it changed. Freya never even felt guilty or apologized for literally kidnapping and torturing her. The show loves to match up characters, especially women and especially woman of color, with their abusers with no repercussions to the abuse.

I could write forever about the blatant racism in this show.

Thanks for the ask! I hope I answered everything. As always, please let me know what you think or if you disagree with anything I said.

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