#have some mr gu first | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

meowjings-arsb · 3 months

Text

Possibly even more on crack Stardew headcanons and whatnot because yes 👍

First post

Void chickens are burnt

With enough void mayonnaise, you could possibly obtain the goblin Henchman’s loyalty if only that the Witch doesn’t curse you first

All rabbits are honed in the fine art of keychain making. Hence the lucky rabbit feet they give off

We still don’t know where they’re getting the extra feet though…

Junimo have short, soft, fluffy fur 🍏

They’re also squeezable like a stress ball or a balloon filled with slime

Don’t take (much) fall damage or injury from being tossed at stacks of cans 🥫, but that’s very mean so why would you do that-

From what the witch remembers, humans typically hate void chickens because their eggs are gross but aPARENTLY she guessed wrong with the farmer when she cursed their hen house. She wanted them to eat the egg out of curiosity and suffer for a day or two but noooooo they INCUBATED it out of curiosity instead of consuming it ahhhhhhhhhhhh

She guessed right on cursing the slime hutch with black slimes though because we all know naughty children hate coal.

Gil at some point did a joke slime making video using an actual cave slime, and people just thought it was cool effects and CGI stuff. So now he’s a hit with the slime making fantasy types

Marlon also walked in on him giving a slime a glitter bath. Gil also had glitter all over his face from the slime hitting him head on.

Most of the decorations for the festivals are stored in Pierre’s, the Saloon’s, and the Community Center’s attics

Pierre, Caroline, and Abigail are a family with Spirits Eve colored hair and are therefore— Spooky~

Sometimes… when he’s tired of fish but still wants meat… Willy may eat… a bug steak 🥩

No one thought or knew that the farmer was going to ask someone to dance at the Flower Dance, and so they didn’t even think to get them a proper outfit for the occasion

Or no one had a spare outfit that fit the farmer and just didn’t care to get them one at that point

OR the farmer just outright didn’t want to wear the dance outfit because ew

We have no idea why they didn’t dress up for their own wedding though

The large candy canes placed around the town and sold as decorations at the Feast of the Winter Star and the Night Market are indeed edible 👍

I think that was already canon, but Gus why are you putting them in the dirt-

Shane was persuaded into getting Animal Crossing New Horizons. His island is full of chicken villagers plus Punchy.

Went feral and then sad for a hot minute upon learning of Hector’s existence and him not being in New Horizons

Grandpa’s bed, was in fact, a ping pong table 🏓

The farmer passing out at 2:00am at the latest and waking up at 6:00am at the earliest is a weird internal clock thing. Probably developed from working at Joja Co™️ all those years

Mr Qi personally sent that strange figure who sells the farmer a Farm Warp Totem to be there at the Night Market because he knows the farmer is gonna forget to check the time and then pass out on a mad dash back to the farm

Mr Qi also cannot possibly be human. What is he really? An elf? Vampire? Sorcerer? Snake hybrid? 7 Junimos in a trench coat? Just a man who spray paints himself blue for the aesthetic?

If you have ever seen Caroline’s tea cutscene, then you should know that the tea she drinks probably has a non-zero amount of cannabis in it.

Or maybe not… but like… why was there a lil squid person in there? Drinking tea aswell?? And disappeared with a puff of steam/smoke????

Actually- the tea she had was green, very sparkly and ripple-y. I bet Rasmodius had something to do with it. Because you know what happened with Rasmodius’s tree cutscene and uh… *cough* *cough* that other thing about the wizard-

Professor Snail has a snail under his hat named Mikey 🐌 that he picked up from the month he spent trapped in a cave

The kids of pelican town (Jas, Vincent, + Leo maybe) and the ASS trio (Abigail, Sam, Sebastian), are knowledgable of Krobus’s existence at least somewhat. Also Willy and Gunther 👌

Mr Qi eats Junimos🍏 ..sometimes-

Why? Because they’re like apples, he’s a mysterious son of a gun, and because these are crack headcanons that’s why-

Rasmodius is actively trying to get him magically banned from entering the community center and any other place currently occupied by them…

(spoiler?) …including Jojamart™️

Mr Qi’s outfit actually glows in the dark with a buncha tiny lights and glittery bits. Also shiny like a disco ball maybe ✨

Just hit him with a high powered flashlight and he becomes this ✨

Willy has seen the horrors 🐟

The Iridium bar required in the slime hutch, contrary to popular belief, is not just used as an extra brick for fun. Robin’s gotta smelt it down and add a lil bit of its essence to every stone making up the walls and foundation. (Hard work, y’know?). One bar is just enough to bless the hutch and requiring more seemed to be asking for too much.

Haley follow’s the Queen of Sauce’s Stardew equivalent of Instagram

Junimo Kart should not exist

The whole 100 floors down Skull Caverns was a ruse in an attempt to kill you, the farmer, but it failed because you didn’t die on the whole trip down and are also somehow immune to snake milk (venom). Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger I guess 🤷‍♂️🥛🐍

The farmer is indeed a cryptid. They don’t even breath

Instead of actual armor they instead rely on boots and rings for their protection??? They HAVE a hat, shirt, and pants slot, they CAN wear more armor than just boots if they had any but noooooooo. They like dancing with death so it seems

Actively just challenging Yoba to smite them: Being able to just consume food you really shouldn’t (ex. Void mayonnaise, mushrooms) and do it again once out of the hospital, Just carrying metal tools in thunderstorms, Being able to get hit by the valley’s train and brush it off, Repetitively going into the mines and Skull Caverns despite Harvey’s warnings, Drinking a weird unnatural drink offered by a mysterious stranger twice, also if they get their hands on it, carrying around freaking RADIOACTIVE ore without protection like it’s nothing????

Like I’m still not over the radioactive ore, even if I’ve never encountered it yet-

Also whatever the heck is happening on the Ginger Island dungeon? I’m pretty sure that’s lava everywhere in there??? And you just use your dinky watering can to cross it like no big deal??????

Stardew Valley so just so wild man

At least one person’s gonna be pissed at the farmer if they caught the legendary fish, put them in their fridge, and accidentally made sashimi with them. Maybe Gordy and Tex…

Also proof that the farmer is a cryptid is that they can catch all 5 legendary fish and their relatives without a sweat. Like Willy’s been at this for years. Also where do the relatives come from-

The fact that Pierre hates being given legendary fish is weird to me. I feel like that’s a boasting opportunity to have one in his funky lil shop.

I feel like Willy should also be happier than neutral upon being given the honor of owning one of these legendary fish. Or maybe he’s equally surprised as he is pissed that he wasn’t the one to do it and it cancels out.

Actually- maybe he catch and released? I’m too tired for this man

Gordy in The Fisherman Act ll is a wuss

The Crystalarium just can’t handle the Gay Shard’s power. Haley also can’t handle the Gay Shard apparently.

If you give a Junimo hut a Fairy Stone, are you just giving them the fossil of a long dead relative of theirs? Would that be weird?

If Abigail ate a fairy stone, would she be cursed by the fae for like… eating their crystallized bones

Forget what I said earlier about Emily wielding a parrot perch, she uses the unobtainable Holy Blade now- 🗡✨

If the farmer ever sees the green creature at the pelican town docks, just know that they probably hate you

Your dad probably has a rock collection. Why else is he sending you quality stones

#just your usual Wednesday afternoon crack headcanons #I had most of this done earlier but it didn’t feel long enough so eh. here you are #I haven’t reached Ginger island yet. or played Stardew in a while tbh. oof #my stoof #signatured #a portion of this is just me rambling about how weird sdv is tbh #my writing #sdv #stardew valley #did you know. that I have not died once in my whole stardew play through so far. I did the 100 floors challenge too!#I’m not counting passing out at 2am. because that’s happened at least twice #once on my own farm and another trapped in a spiral level of the mines after loosing track of time #Robin was legit building a coop next to me when I passed out too and Joja STILL charged me for it!

64 notes · View notes

manicplank · 28 days

Note

Hey there buddy ! I love ur headcanons ! I'd like to know how you think PT's cast would react if they came face to face with a big tough guy who want's to have beef with them

Big guy has beef

Peppino: He doesn't want to fight. He tries to mediate the situation, but the guy isn't having it. He lets the guy throw the first punch then whoops his ass.

Gustavo: Like Peppino, he tries to settle the guy, but it isn't working. Gustavo cracks his knuckles and neck then gets down to an ass whoopin'. (Gus wins, btw.)

Mr. Stick: "Wise guy, eh?" Thinks he's stronger than he is. Fights like an old 1920's guy. Gets his ass whooped.

Pepperman: He doesn't try to calm the guy down. Pepperman is a big strong guy, and he knows it. The two are a good match, but Pepperman wins just barely.

The Vigilante: He tries to tell the guy he doesn't want to fight, but the guy isn't having it. The guy throws the first punch, but Vigi dodges. He shoots in self defense (because he's not good at fighting).

The Noise: He goes FERAL. He mauls the guy. His claws are sharp enough to cut deep, he bites him and rips him apart with his teeth. It's bloody and sickening. He gets arrested and charged with manslaughter.

Noisette: Let's say the guy is a girl, and she's being a huge bitch. Noisette doesn't want to fight until the girl throws the first punch. Then she goes feral. She can throw some painful punches.

Fake Peppino: He doesn't get it. Why is the guy angry? The guy punches him... And it angers Fakey. He grows big and mauls the guy like a dog. It's bloody and cruel. Fakey now has a delicious dinner.

Pizzahead: Another 1920's fighting guy. "Let's wallop!" He unfortunately gets his ass whooped. If it wasn't a big guy, he might've won, but it's not.

Pillar John: John is huge and made of rock. He's not at all afraid of the guy. The guy punches him and breaks his hand. John shrugs. Fuck else did he think would happen? It's not Minecraft.

Gerome: He shrugs. He assumes the guy has fragile masculinity. He doesn't worry much. The guy punches him and knocks him over, but he doesn't feel much pain. The guy busted his knuckles punching a man made of rock. Idiot.

#pizza tower #noise #the noise #headcanon #noisette #pizzahead #peppino #peppino spaghetti #fake peppino #pepperman #the vigilante #mr. stick #pillar john #pizza tower gerome #pizza tower gustavo

43 notes · View notes

asksythe · 1 year

Text

MXTX Interview with Risa Wataya for Subaru Magazine P.7

Which creative works influence you:

Risa: Please tell us which creative works influence you.

Moxiang: Professor Jin Yong's wuxia novels (*)! Professor Jin Yong is my number one teacher in the craft of writing. His skill in crafting wuxia stories, his artistic palate, the sheer intellectual depth and philosophical complexity of his stories and characters. Professor Jin Yong's wuxia novels have a profound and immeasurable influence on all modern Asian creative professionals.

(*: the legendary late professor Jin Yong. He's not as well-known in English-speaking spheres due to the complexity of his works being very difficult to translate to languages outside of the Sino-Tibetan language family. But in Asia, he's a literature titan. He's comparable to Tolkien in that he laid the foundation and codified the tropes of wuxia as a modern genre (alongside Gu Long and Liang Yusheng) and brought about the first and subsequent wuxia waves, and that there's also university courses and entire research field on Jin-Yong-ology. However, he's a much more prolific writer, having produced 15 wuxia series, among which 14 are of comparable length or longer than the Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit combined.

It would be no lie to say there's not a single creative professional in Asia that is not influenced by Jin Yong in some way, shape, or form.

One of Jin Yong's trademarks is the overwhelming, often obsessive, sometimes destructive love that his characters exhibit. There's not one work of his that is not threaded through with larger-than-life romance, not just among the protagonists, but also among the villain characters. The trend of modern Chinese literature, especially wuxia and xianxia, to portray larger-than-life romance can be traced directly to Jin Yong's influence.

Interestingly, he's also credited as having accidentally created the proto icon of danmei as a genre.

I'm sorry. I'm so excited I want to cry. Professor Jin Yong is also my first teacher in the craft of writing. It turns out we all step in the footsteps of the giant, huh, Moxiang?)

I also watch a lot of 90s Hongkong movies. Do you know "Shaolin Soccer'?

Risa: I do know!

Moxiang: Stephen Chow's comedy movies, Tsui Hark's wuxia, and fantasy horror movies. Lam Ching-ying's walking corpse movies. I love all of these.

Risa: That's closer to jiangshi (*) than modern zombies.

(*: a type of Chinese walking corpse. The name literally translates to stiff corpse. Jiangshi is typically translated into Chinese hopping vampire in English due to their similarity to Western vampires. They are the dead that comes back to life. They suck yang energy from living people. They fear the smell of garlic. Etc... Jiangshi has real-life basis in an extinct profession in China: the corpse walker, i.e., people who made a living out of 'walking' corpses back to their home provinces in times of war and chaos. Corpse walkers are mentioned in Liao Yiwu's historical book 'The Corpse Walker')

Moxiang: That's right. That's right. A hopping jiangshi. I watch a lot of such movies. Some movies are from before I was born, such as 'A Chinese Ghost Story' and 'Sword Man' (*). I have watched them more than ten times! If I meet someone who has never watched those movies before, I will enthusiastically drag them along while saying, "Let's watch them together!" My novel bears obvious and immense influence from these movies... For example, the funny scenes in my story are very close to the atmosphere of comedy scenes from Hongkong cinema. Or the walking corpses in my story. My inspiration came from these undead corpses. In the novel, I mentioned using glutinous rice as a cure for corpse powder. This knowledge came from the movie "Professor Jiangshi" (named 'Mr. Vampire' in English in the Wikipedia).

(*: Both of these movies are Tsui Hark's movies and are counted among the top 100 best movies of Asian cinema. They are known for their fantasy elements, eroticism, and homoeroticism. These movies came from a time where Asian cinema was pushing boundaries left, right, and center. Swordsman and its spin-off were adapted from Professor Jin Yong's The Smiling Proud Wander. The very same work in which he accidentally created the proto-icon of danmei. I wrote an essay about this as part of danmei history last year. I will make a separate post after this.)

Risa: To be honest, when I reached the part where glutinous rice was used to cure corpse powder in 'Mo Dao Zu Shi,' I was moved.

Moxiang: Ah? A Japanese author saw the glutinous rice scene in my novel and linked it to jiangshi movies... That is so surprising!

Risa: When I was young, I watched a lot of jiangshi movies. I love them!

Moxiang: I feel increasingly close to Ms. Risa now. As for other foreign literature, Emily Bronte's 'Wuthering Heights' greatly influences me. When I read it during elementary school, I was shaking from excitement. Perhaps because of the influence of Wuthering Heights, that whenever I see complex, intertwining love-hate situations, I feel such joy and nostalgia in my heart.

There's also my favorite childhood mangaka Rumiko Takahashi! This kind of light-hearted, rowdy atmosphere where characters argue and rib each other is so cute! I especially like 'Ranma 1/2'. I think it's the best comedy manga. Other than that, 'Inuyasha' can only be described by the word romantic. Romantic! To this day, Kikyo is still a goddess in my heart.

Risa: Although 'Ranma 1/2' is a work that features China in it, what do Chinese people think about it?

Moxiang: The first thought that comes to my head is 'charming!' After that is probably fond familiarity. This work (Ranma 1/2) features many Chinese elements. I feel that the distance between our hearts is lessened.

To be Continued (The next part will be the last)

Translator: Sythe / NPD Khanh

#mxtx #mdzs #Interview #Translation #jin yong #tsui hark #rumiko takahashi

308 notes · View notes

ask-gorgonzolatheclown · 1 year

Note

Well. That was. Informative! Thank you for the reminder, Bruno!

Why did you feel the need to say that, again...?

" ETREH NCA ONYL EB NOE. "

" MI ICSK FO GHIAVN SIHT FINRORIE ELOEPPARGNDG RNIUGNN URDANO ENIMRDGNI EM FO TWHA MI ONT! "

" buddy. "

" What'd we say about using our words? It's awfully mean to growl at people. "

"..."

" If you're upset, take a minute to cool down. You don't need to respond to someone that says something ugly to you. If it makes you sad you can always talk to me about it, remember? I don't mind if you need to let it out but... You might make Peppino uncomfortable growling like that considering... everything. "

" It's okay to feel mad, but you can't growl at people. It might make things escalate, and I don't want to see you get hurt. "

" You're a hot mess, you. But say, since I'm feeling better, maybe you could help finish prep in the kitchen. I'll be right behind you, I just gotta get the crust out of my eyes and freshen up a little from bawling. Ok? "

" OK. "

( I don't think telling him everything is a good idea. I've only known him for nearly two months. I think I can level with him on one thing, though... )

Long text under cut

Gus: You know when you told me the other day about him growling at Brick I thought you were just overreacting.

Peppino: Well now you see what I'm talking about. Maybe you should leave them at home from now on.

Gus: Did you understand what he said? 'Memento Mori'? Is that Italian?

Peppino: No, it's not. Zola, do you know what that means?

Gorgonzola: No sir, I'm sorry.

Peppino: That glob of undercooked dough gonna get a foot up its ass if it doesn't cut it out. I can't take much more of this.

Gorgonzola: Mr. Peppino can I speak to you for a minute, alone?

Peppino: I suppose. Gus, you should help with prep. If you start feeling uncomfortable come back.

Peppino: ...

Gorgonzola: ...

Peppino: Alright, what is it?

Gorgonzola: First and foremost sir, I'm sorry. I-

Peppino: Don't start. I don't want to hear you apologize. You can't control what that thing does.

Gorgonzola: ...Alright, well. I just wanted to talk to you a minute about that. I don't very much appreciate you calling him names, it makes him angry-

Peppino: Nonono, no. Don't. I will throw you out of this Pizzeria by the collar of your polo! I have been SO nice to it today! I let it lick the dishes, eat the old food out of the fridge, and it growled at me this morning because I turned the light on in the kitchen!

Gorgonzola: Sir he's not going to be nice to you after one day of being kind to him... somewhat. You beat him up and threw him off a building.

Peppino: CAN YOU BLAME ME!?

Gorgonzola: Of course I can't! I don't blame you at all, you were completely in the right to do so. I'm not saying that you were wrong to do any of what you did, but I'm saying that on both sides it was exceptionally traumatizing.

Peppino: Traumatizing for him? Right. His existence is traumatizing to me.

Gorgonzola: Sir he scares me too, you know that right...?

Peppino: What?

Gorgonzola: He scares me a lot.

Peppino: Well... then... why would you vouch for it the way you did when you convinced me to let it in...?

Gorgonzola: Because deep down I know he's just like me. Heck Mr. Peppino, the Tower runs so much deeper than a place we used to live in. That's where life started. There was no outside. Everything that was in there was all we knew, for me all I knew was circuses and shows, for him it was labs and darkness, the only food is rats and other, smaller, messed up versions of yourself. Everyday he has to live with the fact he's supposed to be someone he very much is not.

Peppino: ...

Gorgonzola: I'm not saying you have to put up with him, I'm asking you to have some patience and compassion.

Peppino: Which I've given a lot of-

Gorgonzola: I know, trust me I know. He's a lot for me too. I'm just asking you to have a little more. I can't tell you what to do or convince you that deep down he's a gentle giant, but if you give it time, I think you'll see him for what he is.

Peppino:

Gorgonzola:

Peppino: Damn it. I knew I made a good decision hiring you for the front. [chuckles] You sure you're a clown and not a conman?

Gorgonzola: Being a clown requires a lot of social prowess, sir! Sorry.

Peppino: Ah. Forget about it. Just ... I suppose I'll be more patient with him or at least do my best. Just don't expect an immediate change.

Gorgonzola: I don't, sir. Thank you for hearing me out.

Peppino: Ti ringrazio, Gorgonzola, for talking to me.

#Cheesed to meet you~!#OOF WRITING #But hey gorgonzola and peppino interaction #Pizza tower #fake peppino #pizza tower fake peppino #pizza tower peppino #peppino spaghetti #peppino #pizza tower gustavo #gustavo and brick #pizza tower oc #long post

162 notes · View notes

childlikegoblinqueen · 5 months

Text

Huntlow Week Day 1: Prompt Halloween/Hooty

"Oh! Good evening Hunter!"

A sliver of light passed over Hunter's body from the inside of the Park house.

He'd knocked.

He had.

Willow liked the danger of Hunter sneaking in through her balcony, and though she'd offered to "magic him up" with vines, or to have Clover fly him up, tonight of all nights, Hunter opted to act appropriately and knock.

Slowly, the door cracked open and a small sliver of warm light slid out from the Park's kitchen in a line over Hunter's head.

"Ah! Hunter. Good evening!" Harvey Park smiled. "Please come on in!

"Thank you Mr. Park!" Hunter gave a small smile and Harvey opened the door even wider which made Hunter's smile wider as well.

"Gilbert's out getting some last minute grosseries for dinner, and Willow's upstairs waiting for you!"

"Yessir!" Hunter bowed his head only to feel Harvey's sturdy hand on his shoulder.

"Of course." Harvey chuckled. "And Hunter? I do hope one day you will call me Harvey?"

"I hope so too." Hunter whispered.

Within seconds he had rushed up the stairs, with a thick tapping sound from his pink crocs. He reached another door covered in pictures of various types of flora and knocked again.

"Trick or treat!" Hunter sang out as Willow's sunny face answered.

"BOTH!" She answered, pulling him in as quickly as she shut the door behind them.

Then, Willow Park had Hunter in her arms. She tackled him gently and they fell on the floor in breathless peels of laughter.

Hunter let out a snort and lifted his hands , "I SURRENDER!" he shouted. "I AM AT YOUR MERCY! ANYTHING YOU WANT! IT'S YOURS!"

"Pfft! You're being a pushover on purpose." Willow teased. She laid her head across his chest, ear to the place she had told him so many times was best to hear his heartbeat. "Did you bring the goods?" She whispered.

"Check my bag." Hunter nodded.

They sat up as Willow dug her hands through his school bag pulling out a big pillow case full of every kind of Human Realm Candy possible.

"W-we probably should wait until after dinner before we get started on that." Hunter rubbed the back of his neck as he watched his girlfriend line up each piece of candy in order of what she liked to eat first.

"Hunter?" Willow stopped a moment. She looked at him with a soft smile. "Are you sure you're not mad that Gus is over with Luz and the others for Halloween?"

Hunter shook his head. Gently, he pressed his hand against his chest where Flapjack lay. "I get it. Maybe one day I'll be ready to do a real Human Realm Halloween again? But I wouldn't want to hold anyone else back." He felt a sharpness behind his throat. "Are you disappointed?" he whispered. "I mean, that you aren't over there now?"

Willow's cheeks went pink. "Nah." She waived her hand and shuffled a bit more through the pillowcase. "Getting to do Halloween last year was fun and all ... until ... you know. Until it wasn’t?" Her eyes watered a bit. "But there's a lot of things I get to do this year that's even better?"

"Yeah? Like what?" Hunter gave his girlfriend a lopsided grin. From the look on Willow's face he knew that she'd found it. The one thing he'd hidden in the bag of Reeses', and Hersey Bars, and those weird triangle things that Luz insisted were "loser candy." And then, Hunter felt his grin spread.

Gingerly, Willow opened the box of Pocky and slid out one long thin cookie, resting the chocolate covered side between her full lips. With the tips of her fingers she drew his chin closer towards her own. As Hunter began to eat one side as Willow ate the other, meeting in the middle in a soft, sweet crumb covered kiss.

"I get to do stuff like that." Willow whispered as Hunter felt his ears light up.

"Mmmmmmm." He hummed. "That was nice."

"You wanna have another piece?" She whispered.

A sliver of guilt filled Hunter's stomach. "B-but your dads are gonna be calling us down for dinner soon?"

"Maybe?" Willow shrugged. She crawled closer, placing the new stick between her lips and with a devious laugh, she rumbled, “But it is Halloween, and I think we're required to spoil our dinner with something sweet."

And without any further argument, Hunter closed the space between them with another kiss.

#huntlow week #huntlow week 2023 #pocky kiss #toh fanfic #the owl house #toh hunter #willow park #willow x hunter #spotify #huntlow #promt: Halloween

42 notes · View notes

whereismyhat5678 · 7 months

Note

hey hi uh I saw one of your posts and it had a little "evil peppino x evil gustavo" doodle thingy and I thought it was so cute and I was wondering if you could do more 👉👈😶

(if you even want to, no pressure)

(I’m so sorry I answered so late!! I wasn’t able to work on asks today since I was out, I hope this works though!! 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️)

Uhh- It might not EXACTLY be ship art but it’s implied! (I again hope that works- 😀😓🥲)

Peppino doesn’t like to admit it but….

He really… very deeply…. cares about Gustavo…<3

(He has a soft spot in his twisted ass heart for Gus- 💕💕💕)

Also I have some headcanons under the cut if you’d like to read those-

- Peppino has trust issues, he REALLY doesn’t like to build any sort of close relationships with anyone really, and it partially started because of the…hand incident….He’ll keep in touch with family but he hasn’t told them about his, duties.

- (I’m actually still thinking of ways on how he met Gus but-) I imagine when he met Gus he was skeptical, he was too friendly, and he really had no reason to be caught up in all the things Pep was dealing with. But he was a good hand so he kept him…

- As his duties got more intense (and a bit irritating to deal with) Gus always was by his side, he didn’t want to get to close but he did end up actually gaining a bond with him. He liked his presence, he liked when he talked, he liked when he smiled, he liked when he was genuinely honest with him (which was almost all the time-), Pep respected him, he grew to like him as he was, he trusted him… (Which was very hard for Pep to do…)

- I should also mention that Pep doesn’t like it when people call him by his name. Only Mr. Spaghetti (even though it did sound silly-) or boss (if it was a worker) and ANYTHING ELSE besides his name. If you did…. It ain’t gonna look pretty…

- (As you can see in the “comic” though Pep finally is able to tell Gus that he feels he trusts him, therefore he can call him by his name… And Gus usually always called him boss- The only reason why it slipped for him because he heard about that one rumor where Peppino killed someone because he said his first name. He couldn’t stop thinking about it and that’s why he was so nervous when he said it-)

I think that’s all the serious headcanons I have- if anyone wants to use them that’s fine! (If you would like to of course!) I’m gonna go to bed, I’m tired… 🫶💕

#Pizza Tower #Really got a fulll ass backstory-#Pep really does care for Gus #Even though he scared him sometimes-#Evil Peppino #Evil Gustavo #Evil Peppino x Evil Gustavo(?)#Headcanons #Asks #Request :D

55 notes · View notes

bts-siwan · 3 months

Text

www.hisprofile.com

────────── THE BASICS.

birth name : kim siwan (김시완)

nicknames : pariah. nation’s son. mr mayhem. bangtan’s wild card. the seoul reaper. ceo height factory. mr shoulder gate bridge. king god. international heartbreaker. worldwide pop boy. number one billboard singer.

birthdate : november 9th , 1994

age : 31 (korean age) / 30 (international age)

zodiac sign : scorpio

birthplace : jeju island , south korea

hometown : yongdam-1-dong , jeju island , south korea

current residence : gangnam-gu , seoul , south korea

languages : korean (100% - mother tongue) , english (70% - expert) , japanese (60% - general knowledge) , mandarin (25% - amateur) , spanish (10% - beginner) , hindi (10% - beginner)

────────── PHYSICAL TRAITS.

height : 6’2 ft / 187.9 cm

eye colour : green & dark brown (heterochromia)

natural hair colour : black

modifications : tattoos , piercings

blood type : ab +

faceclaim : kim mingyu (seventeen)

────────── CAREER INFO.

stage name : s!nea

debut date : june 13th , 2O13

positions : main vocalist , main dancer , sub rapper , centre

current state : serving mandatory military service

active years : 2O13 - n/a

agency : bighit music ; hybe

trainee period : 3 years

representative emoji : 🦁

voiceclaim : kim mingyu (seventeen)

dance claim : taemin (shinee)

rapclaim : changbin (stray kids)

────────── PERSONAL INFO.

mbti : istp-t

family : mother , father , younger sister (deceased)

positive traits : diligent and observant , handy and resourceful , spontaneous , direct and authentic , independent , grounded

negative traits : unapologetic , insensitive , private and reserved , easily bored , independent , overly sceptical

────────── HIS TRIVIA.

he was born in yongdam-1-dong , jeju island , south korea.

his family consists of : mother and father who are divorced , and his younger sister who died by suicide when he was only 21 years old.

education : jeju-dong elementary school , shindong middle school , choongang highschool , global cyber university.

his father was a recognised musician in jeju because of his band , and one day he had asked siwan to accompany him as lead singer. this is how he was first scouted by the big three and many other labels.

he has heterochromia but wears contact lenses to hide them.

in middle school , there had been an activity for students to write letters to other students from different cities. the letters from shindong had been sent to suga’s school where the two had been anonymously paired as pen pals.

he was originally a jyp trainee until he had gotten that pen pal letter from suga explaining that he had been recruited into bighit , thus leading him to join bighit too.

his favourite drink is chocolate milk but because jeongguk doesn’t like it as much , he was offended and had swapped out all of the banana milk in the fridge of the dorm for chocolate milk.

s!nea said the body part he is most confident about on himself is his charming smile.

he says the weather can affect his mood in both a positive and negative manner. he’s happier when it’s sunny and feels more gloomy when it’s cold and wet.

his favourite colour is red.

when asked to rank the most attractive member , he said he was starstruck by v and almost fell for him. he thinks v is the most attractive member in bts.

he is often described as a ‘lyrical genius’ for helping to write a lot of the group’s songs , as well as his own solo projects.

his favourite number is 8.

although he is the main vocalist of bts , his solo projects venture more towards hip hop and rap.

his “fake love” fancam has surpassed over 2OOm views which is the most viewed fancam in kpop history.

he has read some fanfiction that army have made about him. (18.04.17 vlive)

he is a great multitasker and has come up with three of the group’s songs all on the same day while driving.

he was really popular in school. the girls would always gather around to watch and cheer him during basketball practice.

everyone likes to sleep in his bunk in the dorms so he used to purposely pile dirty laundry on his bed to ward the members off.

in the dorm , s!nea is in charge of taking out the trash and keeping the maknaes in line.

hobbies : collecting vintage bottle caps , basketball , playing video games , fishing , golf , and cricket.

he is a major yamazaki kento fanboy and one of his biggest wish is to meet him someday.

he is labelled one of the strongest members in bts with around 22 years of judo training under his belt. he started training when he was 6 and still continues to train when he has time.

s!nea’s motto : “ your ego can cost someone their life. it’s better to be a good human than to be the reason for someone else’s misery. ”

he doesn’t like vegetables much but he forces himself to eat them because jimin said he wants siwan to be strong in order to protect him.

as of december 2O2O , s!nea was gifted a maltipoo for his birthday by his mother who he has named kim bubble.

people are usually intimidated by him upon first impressions , but he’s in fact very shy and finds it difficult to maintain eye contact with others.

s!nea was ranked 1st in the “ top 1OO handsome faces of 2O18 ”

s!nea’s ideal date : “ go for a long walk at the beach or spend a day at a fun resort and explore together. ”

OTHER MEMBERS ABOUT S!NEA

RM : “ a very scary guy if people aren’t careful. he’s quiet and minds his business , but he doesn’t stay quiet for the people he cares about. ”

JIN : “ he’s a little reluctant to rest so he worries me. i’ll see him sneaking out to practice when he should be resting , but he’s got the face of a puppy. i can never really be mad at him. ”

V : “ i think i bring out hyung’s crazy side. he’s usually reserved , but we get up to all kinds of things together. he likes pulling pranks on me a lot. ”

JUNGKOOK : “ he has an undeniable aura that sort of grabs your attention. he doesn’t even try to do it on purpose , but my eyes are always on him. ah , he’s so cool. ”

JIMIN : “ a unique guy for sure! he teases me more than anyone else but it’s hard to be mad. he’s goofy when we’re alone , but he has a good heart and a great ear [for listening]. i love to spoil him. he’s mine. ”

SUGA : “ he has that distinct thirst for success that will lead him to achieve great things. he puts a lot of effort and commitment to his work and the things he holds dear. also empathises well with others. ”

J-HOPE : “ he makes a lot of cute sounds. he could probably be a beat boxer if he tried , and he has sharp features so it’s surprising when he can pull off aegyo so well. it makes me jealous. ”

in the dorm , he shares a room with v. (180327: bts’ jhope & jimin - more magazine may issue)

s!nea’s ideal type is someone who is sensitive and can hold their own [in difficult situations]. he generally gravitates towards those that are older than him , but he isn’t too picky. he does appreciate a natural aegyo charm.

TAGLIST

@pandorasword , @ateezsora , @anqelws , @kaitieskidmore97 , @vizianary

43 notes · View notes

whimsicalmeerkat · 2 months

Text

First & Last Lines

I did this a million years ago. I just got reminded of it and thought it would be fun to do again. Basically, post the first and last lines of the last 10 fics you posted. WIPs are welcome. Not going with any sort of strict rules, because that’s just not how I roll. Anyway, here goes!

1. hope for the future, teen wolf, derek hale/peter hale

First: As Derek flew back from his uncle's punch, he wondered just how he hadn't realized sooner that Peter was the alpha—that he was his alpha.

Last: He couldn't say he'd ever be be content with the past or that he was happy in the present, but for the first time in years he had hope for the future, and maybe that would be enough.

2. 3 Sentence Ficathon 2024: Teen Wolf, multiple pairings

First: Derek leans his head back so he can stare at the star-studded tree canopy overhead and thinks, not for the first time, that he will never get tired of seeing Stiles’ magic.

Last: “Easy for you and Derek to say—you were both born like this and you took away my chance to get out of this life,” Scott rages back, the arrows hitting Stiles in his soft parts just like they have every time he’s hurled them over the years since Stiles got him turned into a werewolf.

3. 3 Sentence Ficathon 2024: Chosen One, macy blake’s chosen one universe, multiple pairings

First: “I just feels it lacks a certain gravitas,” Eduard says, tugging at the hem of the denim jacket he considers so ugly he wonders if some of his mates are pulling a prank on him until he turns around and sees all eight of them staring at him in a distinctly horny fashion.

Last: “Fucking lions—you’re lucky I love you.”

4. with lightning in his hands, teen wolf, derek hale/peter hale/stiles stilinski

First: Stiles stares at the ruins of the Hale house and reflects that he perhaps should have taken Deaton more seriously when he told him starting to practice magic would change how he saw the world.

Last: All they have to do is wait for him to come.

5. time travel, teen wolf, derek hale/laura hale

First: Derek bursts through the door of his little apartment in New York City, yelling for his sister.

Last: "It all started in seven days from now for you and five years ago for me."

6. telepathy, black jewels, daemon sadi/lucivar yaslana

First: She’s not trustworthy.

Last: They exited the room without opposition, knowing their point was made and would not be forgotten.

7. dusk, the witcher, emhry var emreis/geralt of rivia

First: Geralt stands on the balcony outside of Emhyr’s rooms and watches the day fade into dusk

Last: Geralt could get used to having a family.

8. Trading Up, teen wolf, derek hale/stiles stilinski

First: Stiles and his (maybe?) girlfriend are walking down Main Street after dinner, holding hands and looking in the shop windows

Last: “Damnit, I need to see if I have to do actual work. While I’m checking my email, you should try to guess why Lydia didn’t turn into a werewolf. You’ll never get it, but it will entertain you while you wait,” Stiles tells Derek, then turns his attention to his laptop.

9. candy, macy blake’s chosen one universe, victor eastaughffe/orsen riggs & gus

First: “Bear!” Gus shrieks from his seat at the table.

Last: “You may have gummy bears after dinner, Gus.”

10. drift, perilous courts by tavia lark, julien sandry/whisper

First: Julien watches Whisper in the sunlight.

Last: “We’ll make sure we win.”

Tags: @dear-massacre @jammerific @shadow-wasser @thotpuppy @lavender-lotion @mrs-steve-harrington @bad-at-names-and-faces @definitively-different-drivel

#tag game #fanfic #teen wolf #chosen one universe #macy blake #chosen one universe by macy blake #black jewels #black jewels by anne bishop #black jewels trilogy #the witcher #perilous courts #tavia lark #perilous courts by tavia lark #author:whimsicalmeerkat

20 notes · View notes

ms-nesbit · 1 year

Text

The Graduate (professor!jason todd x reader)

yall sickos voted for it, and here it is.

summary: Reader is attending Gotham University with Tim and Steph, who invite her to hide away from her family at Wayne Manor for summer; Reader's old professor, Mr. Todd - whom she had feelings for - would return to Wayne Manor for a visit.

warnings: smut, reader is chubby (and is mentioned vaguely during the smut part), oral sex (female and male receiving), jason todd is not red hood

word count: 3.7k

note: i wasnt passionate about this, and i think it shows. i will submit another poll soon

AO3

Trees swayed to and fro, their leaves descending from their branches. Below them were students of Gotham University, bustling with mixed feelings in their own individual bubbles. At this time of the year, the students were frantic to finish their studies, bubbling with fear of failure - or, in y/n’s case, fear of the inevitable: returning back home to her parents.

“Come on, y/n!” Tim nudged her shoulder playfully. “Just stay with us for a bit. I’m sure your folks won’t mind a bit if you joined us.” His backpack slung over one shoulder, his other arm holding his overpriced textbooks. “Plus, you know that Bruce is going to be inviting Jason back over.”

Y/n rolled her eyes at the enticing information, knowing exactly why it was so pertinent of Tim to disclose the trivia. Jason - or, as y/n called him, Mr. Todd - was her two-hundred level literature professor, one that kept her attendance sharp. Despite her punctuality, y/n’s grades stooped a tad lower than she hoped, having to set aside time for a tutor after hours. The cause?

Wandering eyes. Nearly every lecture in the hall, a “snoozefest” for typical students, was a period of time during which y/n found herself gawking at Professor Todd, sometimes uncomfortably shifting in her seat as she felt herself getting wet underneath her clothes.

“Since you’re basically graduated, you can probably hit on him.” Steph bounced along on y/n’s other side, shiny blonde hair drifting behind her.

While y/n was far from graduating, as her dean (and stacking student loans) reminded her, she was further from infancy as a student; it did help that GU’s policy chose not to define how intimate student-teacher relationships could be, as long as the student was not directly professionally affiliated with the professor.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Y/n let out with a bothered breath.

—-

Three weeks dashed by, each of y/n’s remaining final exams torturing her, one after the next; she persevered (but barely, nearly falling asleep during her Business Ethics final), and boxed her dorm-materials, shipping them, along with herself, to the Wayne Manor. It wasn’t y/n’s first stay at the manor, having been a guest to the Wayne family’s abundance of galas and sleepovers, but she felt much more high-strung and self-conscious, wanting to make a good impression on her crush.

Tim’s older brothers, Dick and Jason, moved out of Wayne Manor shortly before y/n met Tim, so she never truly thought anything of them; until, of course, y/n’s first day of Classic Literature, when a tall, top-heavy man abruptly entered the lecture hall, reading glasses high on his nose. At that moment, y/n found herself leaning in closer over her desk, regretting her choice of sitting in the rows farthest from the center of the auditorium. She watched as Jason’s fingers ruffled through his hair, black sprinkled with white near his widow’s peak, wondering if it was soft. Or maybe his hair was gelled with some substance, which emitted a waft of juniper and sage…or cedar and cypress…or wintermint. Unfortunately, she caught nothing of Jason’s hint of a pop-quiz that coming Friday, or that the test would account for ten percent of their overall grade.

Y/n’s grade-point average dipped disastrously after that course, something she had to excuse to her parents, as unforgiving as they were, despite their overall dismissal of everything else in her life.

It was why y/n loved her time at Wayne Manor, stepping in with boxes in her arms. She was stopped by a slender man in a navy tee, asking if he could assist with her boxes. “It just seems real heavy, and I don’t want you to get hurt on the stairs.” he excused, taking on the boxes of clothing and bedding.

“Good morning, Alfred!” y/n chirped at the older gentleman, who nodded back and returned his greeting. “How are you?”

Alfred smiled politely. “Most busy, as usual. And how are your courses, Teddy?”

Teddy was a term Alfred used toward y/n when she was a child. He didn’t break the habit, nor did y/n want him to. “Surprisingly tough, actually. I haven’t received the results on my ceramics project, but overall, I’m looking okay.”

Peering down at her from the top of the staircase, Alfred’s smile remained. “Undoubtedly, you are more than capable of handling those adversaries. I’m proud of you.” Alfred was a family member to y/n, similarly to Tim and Steph, caring for all of them whenever they came down with illness, or when y/n was unable to return home due to another violent outburst from her parents. It wasn’t unusual to Alfred, nor did he shame her for it, but he treated her as an insider, and y/n treated him as an equal (dissimilarly to some of the Wayne family’s other guests).

After having been shown her temporary room by Pennyworth, y/n settled her boxes and laid on the bed, catching her breath. Still no Mr. Todd, y/n thought to herself, Would it be weird if I asked Al when he’s stopping by?

It seemed that Dick read her thoughts, as he arrived in the room, remaining boxes in his arms. He set them down beside the doorway and kept his distance respectfully. “Tim told me you had Jason as your teacher. Was he good at all? I heard he’s pretty strict.”

Strict? I don’t remember him being...oh shit, yeah. Y/n recalled, an amused chortle leaving her lips. “He had his moments.” Of the little focus she did have, y/n retained the information, instantly enveloped by the idiosyncrasies ranging from his zero-tolerance policy on open beverages of any kind to his amenability of otherwise adultish themes. During his lecture one day about The Scarlet Letter, Professor Todd tucked his hair behind his ears and dove into the ignorance of sexual fluidity, and the importance of noting Western Christian themes into classic literature.

And when he unveiled his stance on feminism, to the dismay of several misogynistic students sitting in his class, y/n felt her feelings intensifying, even letting out a dreamily sigh when he expelled the oafish hecklers with an impatient tone.

“Do you think it would be weird if he stayed over? He texted me this morning to ask you.” Dick’s voice snapped y/n from her thoughts.

Y/n shook her head cloddishly. “Oh, no! No, not at all, it’s-it’s okay, y’know? It’s his house, too, so I don’t want him to feel put off by it.”

Sensing the sharp discomfort in her body language, Dick lowered his eyes to his phone and ducked his head. “He doesn’t usually date his students, you know.” he looked through his hair, which drooped over the top of his face as his head was still tilted forward.

What the fuck is with the smart people in this fucking family? “That obvious?”

Dick held his index finger and thumb, gesturing, “Little bit. Though he will be here any minute, according to this text.” he showed y/n his conversation with Jason. “Maybe there’ll be an exception for you.” Dick smirked and winked suggestively before walking out of the room, leaving y/n alone with the dropped optimism.

Moments later, y/n heard a crashing down the hall, followed by a blasting profanity, before Tim clamored into her room, his eyes wide. “Y/n, y/n. Dude, did you check your phone?” Y/n shook her head, confused. “Jason’s here. Want me to set him up for ya?” His eyebrows jumped up and down almost mockingly, expression stenched with excitement.

“As tempting as that may be, I don’t think that would work.” Y/n brushed off. “Plus, I just talked to Dick and he said Mr. Todd doesn’t usually date his students.”

Letting out an exasperated grunt, Tim crossed his arms, shifting his weight onto one foot. “Phallus doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I mean, sure, Jason isn’t really big on the teacher-student thing - something with ‘taking advantage’ of a student and the power imbalance or whatever - but I’m sure he’ll be okay with you since you’re, like, no longer his student.” Tim’s sass blew through the ceiling with each word. “So, whaddaya say?”

The evening quickly rolled in, y/n exhausted from unpacking and spending her time frollicking with Steph. Not before long, though, Alfred called the family for dinner, rounding them up with an entree of cold-cut meats and cheeses, and appetizers of golden breadsticks layered with butter and spices. The aroma carried into the dormitories, interrupting y/n from her rest on her bed as her stomach growled. Following the scent, y/n eventually heard a deep voice singing along to a Doris Day record, and chose to pursue the voice instead. As she approached the source of the harmony, she discovered that it was Jason, folding laundry into clothes drawers.

The closer she stepped, though, the more was unveiled to her: Jason wore his slacks, no different than his salaried attire, but his button-down, usually carefully pressed and sealed, was unbuttoned and relaxed, exposing areas of his chest and torso that seemed so forbidden for y/n to gaze at.

But she couldn’t possibly look away from the sight she daydreamed and pondered about - especially when he was much more toned than she initially thought. Holy shit, she repeated as Jason’s voice continued, like a siren drawing her in for a kill, his abs tightening as he hummed.

Attempting to back away stealthily, a floorboard creaked, alarming y/n, before she ended up bolting down the hall and stairs, running away from any possible consequence.

“Miss y/n, I do have to remind you not to run through the house, Dear.” Alfred admonished sternly as y/n zipped past him and into the dining room. “Please have a seat in your assigned seat.”

Ah, yes — assigned seats. Prior to their departure to university, Tim, Steph, and y/n had to follow a seating chart to deter from wreaking havoc (which was, despite their age, inexorable). As y/n sunk into her designated seat, body slumping over, Steph called from behind, “What’re we havin’ today, Al? Is this…whoa, what happened to you?” her voice quieted as she approached y/n, who attempted to hide herself from view.

Y/n shook her head and forcefully whispered, “I saw your hot older brother half-naked. I dunno what to do.” she revealed her embarrassment to Steph, who sat across the table.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure he didn’t know.” Steph shrugged in response. Though y/n shouldn’t be surprised at how nonchalant Steph was, treating the catastrophe as if it were simple, but she had been this self-assured for as long y/n knew her.

Surely she’s right, y/n thought to herself as she stabbed at her cold cut meat on her assigned plate, eyes glued to the labryinthine decorative vine painted along the outer ridge of the china. For the first ten minutes of dinner, she was relieved, noticing the empty chairs on her right, and one on the other end of the table; however, after a series of nibbles (for some reason, as Tim thoughtlessly pointed, y/n wasn’t particularly hungry), y/n overheard a high-pitched squeak of the heavy wooden chair being pushed on the hardwood floor, and her eyes darted to the source, unexpecting of Mr. Todd apologizing as he dropped into his seat, broad shoulders slump in penitence.

“So, Jason, I heard you taught y/n.” Bruce said aloud, slicing his salami with a knife and fork. “Were you tough on her?”

Staring at the coral-toned tablecloth as she stopped her breath, y/n awaited his answer. “I mean, if I did, she did relatively well considering.” Jason just shrugged, sloshing half-chewed provolone on either side of his mouth.

“Stupendous.” Bruce responded, unaware of the tension in the dining room. He wasn’t as involved in y/n’s life as Alfred was, but once he caught wind of the rocky situation back at her home, Bruce sat her down and offered a bed and privacy “whenever you want, y/n.” It was a relief, as y/n did feel guilty about spending so much resources having dinner at the Wayne Manor, and y/n carried her weight around the manor well, claiming ownership for a few responsibilities of the mansion’s many chores.

Feeling a pair of eyes on her, y/n glanced up from her plate to Steph, then Tim, who were both giving her mixed signals until y/n scooted back in her chair, swiftly rising as she awkwardly excused herself from the table before exiting promptly.

—

Knock-knock

Y/n heard from the other side of her room, to which she acknowledged: “Come in!”

She was rather ignorant of the possibility of who could be pestering her, her bothered tone seeping from her vocal chords, and body lying prostrate on her bed; y/n’s annoyance, however, cleared as soon as she noticed who was entering, his tall frame creeping past the crack of the door.

“I wanted to come in and check to see if you’re feeling well.” Mr. Todd’s glabella wrinkled with concern, his hands tucked into the front pockets of his slacks. “From what I’ve come to know, you’re not one to dismiss dairy products, especially those in a solidified nature.” Y/n sighed at the comment, aware of his reference: one day after class, y/n was assigned to construct a two-hundred word essay about her favorite snack — she, of course, chose cheese, uninformed that she was to turn in the homework for Professor Todd to read and grade.

Sitting up on her bed, y/n forced a chuckle. “Yeah, I just feel a little weird, that’s all.”

“Mind if I sit here?” Professor Todd pointed to a space beside y/n on her bed, and walked over and plopped down once he received affirmation from y/n. “You know,” he started, hands at his knees as he turned his head to look at y/n, “to be fair, I didn’t know you were Tim and Steph’s friend. They told me after you passed my class, which was probably better than blurting it out before midterms.” Y/n nodded passively, still silent. “If this is what you’re feeling apprehensive about, I have no problem staying somewhere else for the time being. I wanted to visit for the summer, and—”

“No, no, it’s not a problem for me.” y/n stammered over her words, hiding her nerves. “Just a little awkward at first, that’s all.” Fidgeting with her nails, y/n attempted to maintain composure, but couldn’t help but notice the pair of hazel, soft as they observed y/n; his facial hair, reduced to a professional stubble; his bottom lip, cracked and bloody in areas from neglect; and all combined to replace y/n’s anxiety with a primitive need that sparked inside her.

She swore she saw the man’s eyes drop from her face to her chest, and then down to her barely exposed legs, before he looked away. “Then was it when you walked in on me?” Moment replaying in her head as it burned into her memory, y/n pretended to act in nescience of the subject at hand, shaking her head slowly. “So that wasn’t you running away scared shitless after peeping in my room?”

Y/n blinked back a laugh as she admitted, “It was, yeah. Sorry.”

“You know, if you wanted to see me shirtless, all you had to do was ask.” Fixated on the ground, y/n barely caught a glimpse at Professor Todd crossing his arms at his own words, almost amused with himself.

The tease caused a thick silence to ensue, and y/n was indecisive about how to respond. She thought it was a joke - it had to be, right? An educator with rigid morals, an attractive educator at that, relaxing beside y/n as he opened the door to invite her. It seemed cliche, if anything, recalling a handful of romantic tropes with the stench of an inappropriate teacher-student relationship.

But on the other hand, y/n calculated, he unbuttoned his top two buttons on his top, and rolled up his sleeves as he waited patiently for y/n to break the silence, exposing his toned forearms. He was no longer y/n’s professor - nor was she his protégé - and even if he was joking, what was the harm in flirting back?

“Do I have to ask nicely?” Y/n remarked, one end of her mouth twitching as she shifted to lie on the bed, this time on her side, with her legs near Jason’s waist.

She heard a beguiled noise of approval before an oral response. “Depends. Though I would prefer it if you beg.” One of Jason’s large hands rested on y/n’s knee, giving her a quick squeeze as his gaze met hers. If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought that Professor Todd’s eyes darkened, but y/n still felt nervous to make the move, only allowing Jason’s hand to burn her skin.

“Well,” y/n began before reaching out and cupping Jason’s chin, turning his cheek to face her as she whispered, “Can you please, please see you like that again?” she batted her eyelashes as she spoke, which caused Jason to groan in response. “I want to see if there’s anything else you can teach me.”

In a moment’s time, Jason was on top of y/n, straddling her hips as he pressed his lips to hers. His hands held her face as he immediately bit her top lip, cock hardening each time a smidgen of a moan was swallowed into the kiss.

Grasping at either of his biceps, y/n let out a relieved moan when Jason’s lips met her neck, head tilting back. Jason’s hands fumbled with her clothes, impatiently pulling it over her head before returning to explore her plump body.

“Do you have a condom?” y/n panted, heart rate increasing ever so slightly with each inch Jason’s lips crept toward the hem of her shorts.

Jason shook his head, murmuring in between kisses, “Don’t need one.” He untied the knot on yn/’s shorts before pulling them down, exposing her skin to the cold air. His hands wandered, driven by pure wanton and hazardous lust as he pinched possessively at the inside of y/n’s plush thighs. Y/n was soundless until Jason pushed her legs apart, sinking a finger into her dripping core as his lips attached to her clit. The action evoked a moan from her, and Jason watched as he continued, licking and sucking at her sensitive bundle of nerves until she drew y/n closer to release.

“Mr. Todd,” the professional title left y/n’s lips in the most sinful way, her hips lifting from the bed as she pleaded. “Please, I want—”

“Hush,” Jason muttered, “I want you to come on my fingers before I have my dick in your mouth. Now, Baby,” he flicked his tongue intermittently at y/n’s clit, two fingers curling at the spongy part of y/n’s inside. “Can you do me a favor and come for me?”

Though his words were respectful, his expression was almost needy, but still caused y/n to ride her hips against Jason’s mouth and fingers, set on achieving what was asked of her. She gasped as she reached her climax, hips lifting from the bed as her thighs trembled.

Jason worked through her high before rising from the bed to remove his remaining clothes, his cock springing free from his boxers as he stripped them from his body as well. Y/n eyed it as she hopped from the bed, positioning herself in front of Jason as she kneeled. She glanced up at him through thick eyelashes, hands unclasping the hooks of her bra to bare her breasts. Y/n knew it was something she looked forward to doing - wrapping a hand around Jason’s shaft as she stroked it achingly slow - if she reached that point, and exploited whatever experience she had to put on a show for the man towering over her. Dragging her tongue along the underside of his cock, y/n kept her gaze on Jason, watching how expressive he became at each movement she made.

Her favorite was the way Jason’s lips shaped into an ‘o’ when her lips kissed the tip of his uncut cock, licking at the precum already collecting on it. His body shivered as she bobbed her head, swallowing as much of his dick into her mouth as she could, and pulling her head back until his cock released from her mouth with a pop.

Y/n continued like this at a slow pace, tarnishing what residual patience Jason had left; it was soon, however, when Jason had enough and grabbed a fistful of y/n’s hair, bucking his hips into her mouth as he hissed. “Oh, fuck,” he moaned when y/n increased the pace, one hand working at his shaft and another kneading her own breast. Jason couldn’t help but feel helpless like this, seeing y/n wanting him this badly; so he allowed his mouth to fall open, eyes shutting as he felt himself nearing his climax. He warned her with a broken moan, “I’m gonna come,” that met y/n’s ears with a kiss to her core.

“Please be good and come for me.” y/n said sultrily, hands working faster to draw a reaction from the man above. The words caused Jason to whimper, his hips stuttering as he fell into a bumbling, moaning mess and came. Y/n caught each rope of cum released into her mouth, swallowing each bit as Jason came down from his high.

Y/n smirked up at Jason, who was panting from his climax, and smoothed her hands along his thighs. Standing on her feet, she kissed Jason’s cheek, and leaned up to whisper in his ear, “You know, you still haven’t taught me anything.”

“We have time. Until tomorrow’s lesson, hmm?” Jason assured, his voice tired but tainted with desire.

#jason todd #professor!jason todd #my post #mine #my work #fanfiction #jason todd x reader #jason todd x plus size reader #smut #do not fucking read if youre a minor gd #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x plus size reader #batfamily #wayne family

140 notes · View notes

lollytea · 11 months

Note

Does Philip still get kicked to death in the La La Land Machine AU?

Nah Philip doesn't get the punishment he should have in this AU. He definitely believes his life was ruined beyond repair but he actually got off so easy.

He did get fucking beaten to a bloody pulp by Eda after putting his hand on Luz's shoulder. Unfortunately he didn't die. But he's so whiny about it that you'd swear he did.

He considered Hunter disowning him to be a stab in the back that he never really recovered from.

He had a very fucked up relationship with Luz too. They were initially on friendly terms. She looked up to him while he saw a lot of Caleb in her. He actually intended to try to make her the next star in his brother's place if Hunter "didn't work out." So Luz also turning her back on him made him furious.

Rumors of Philip's crimes of child abuse began to circulate and there was definitely plenty of evidence to support it, which led to inevitable controversy and well deserved public admonishment.

However, because Philip was such an influential and inspiring figure, there was also a huge part of the public that chose to believe that he was being slandered.

What can even be said? A celebrity with a good publicist will never face punishment.

It's all a hate campaign devised to tarnish Philip Wittebane's good name! His brother would be rolling in his grave. Hunter Wittebane should be ashamed of himself for spreading these lies. After everything his Uncle has done for him. It's insulting how ungrateful he is.

During this time, Hunter is strongly advised to block all these comments out.

Philip Wittebane dies of heart complications 10 years after he lost custody of his nephew.

The news breaks late at night and Hunter can't put his phone down.

He doesn't really know how to feel.

But seeing his Uncle's name cropping up everywhere online, scrolling through comments about how the world lost a legend today, oh it has him seeing red.

He's well and truly spiraling.

That man should have died from Hunter's fingers squeezing his throat. Instead, he passed away peacefully in a world that blindly loved him.

It's nearly 3am and Willow rolls over in her sleep, arm instinctively reaching out for her boyfriend whose usually lightly snoring beside her.

She finds him in his office, scribbling away in his notebook, manic and agitated.

He's recalling dozens and dozens of stories and frantically jotting them down, all about the things that man put him through.

He doesn't know why he's doing this. To cope? To assure himself that these things truly happened? He just feels like he needs to articulate them for once just to emphasize how not okay this all was.

That's all it is at first. A way for Hunter to come to terms with Philip's death. But in time, it becomes so much more than that.

There was a lot of people that hurt him. And Hunter is telling the story of them all.

It's shaping up to be a legit autobiography.

And of course, if he's going to talk about his life as a teenage boy, he has to mention Willow. Falling in love with her changed everything, how could he not mention it?

But he'd have to provide some context as to how their relationship functioned. And it was impossible to do so without explaining a little more about how she was exploited too.

Hunter doesn't want to tell Willow's story for her. Even if he's still livid about it all these years later. But Willow shrugs and says "Tell my story, Mr Writer. I trust you to do it justice."

And then this project just gets bigger and bigger. And now, with their permission, the book includes the mistreatment of the likes of Gus, Amity etc.

Hunter does not hold back. There are names. There are details.

Two years later, after a lot of smug cryptic tweets from Willow, Hunter's book "The Golden Screen" is published.

By this point in time, people are a lot more willing to accept that famous people are garbage sometimes. Especially Philip Wittebane. Even though he had a controversy over a decade ago, peoples memories are very short when it comes to the moral alignment of celebrities. So yes, people are now conceding that it is very likely that Philip Wittebane was a vile depraved monster.

It's kinda bittersweet. He didn't face the consequences he should have while he was alive. But at least his legacy was burned to ashes.

#La La Land Machine AU

74 notes · View notes

studentinpursuitofclouds · 1 year

Note

Hi! Hello! I heard you wanted some requests! So, may I request the SDV bachelors with a crush or S/O who is coeliac? Basically, they're allergic to gluten and it can make them very sick if they eat it. Cross contamination is also a big issue (spoon touch bread -> spoon touch salad -> can't eat salad)!

Hope this isn't a bad ask! Have a lovely week! :]

Hi Snake, glad to see you in my askbox! 👋

And don't worry, that's a pretty good question. I hope you like this silly HC. Have a lovely week as well 😊

Alex:

Alex always reminds his grandmother about Farmers' gluten intolerance, as Evelyn often cooks pies, donuts, and other sweet pastries for a visiting guest at their house.

Paranoidly checks all utensils the Farmer will eat and drink with, making sure the cutlery has not previously touched wheat bread or similar food.

Fast as lightning, he is ready to carry the Farmer in his arms to Harvey's clinic if they get sick from accidentally eating bread.

Alex keeps track of his diet, because he is going to become a sports star, so if the Farmer wants, he will help with the diet (in consultation with Dr. Harvey, of course).

Although sometimes it is difficult for him to refuse the delicious pastries of his granny.

The Farmer doesn't want Alex to limit himself in this, but the athlete is seriously worried about the health of his friend (crush)/partner.

George benefits from it all ("More food for me!" "Grandpa...")

Elliott:

Oh goodness! Elliott didn't know about it.

But it's good that the Farmer told him about their gluten intolerance. He would not want to hurt his close friend because of his and ignorance.

"Excuse me, my friend, I'll leave you for a moment. Make yourself at home in my little cabin."

Elliott ran as fast as he could towards the Saloon.

"Gus, emergency! The table for two is still stands, but gluten-free meals must be served! This is important! Don't even touch the baked goods please, I beg you! I can't let them go to the hospital because of me, I can handle it if something bad happened to them! Goodness me!"

Gus knew from the first minute that the dishes needed to be served gluten-free, but the emotional writer still continued to punish himself for not knowing about Farmer's illness.

"He's a fine drama actor, alright" Gus thought, pretending he was still listening to the dramatic writer.

Elliott is willing to sacrifice his favorite crab cakes to keep the Farmer happy and healthy.

"I can make them without flour, just have something to replace."

"Gus, why didn't you say that! Then I order, for me and my partne-, I mean, a good friend! Oh, marvelous!"

Any whim at your expense, Mr. Writer.

Sam:

The Farmer has never eaten pizza?!

Sam is saddened by the realization that because of the coeliac, the Farmer is unable to taste the food of the gods, the great invention of mankind, the food without which almost none of his rehearsals with Abigail and Sebastian take place.

"Dude, it's just pizza." "Just pizza?! Seb, how can you say that!"

But without pizza-drama, Sam is now very careful about this information.

He doesn't give the Farmer any snack that has gluten in it.

Sam will tell his mom about it, in case the Farmer comes to visit and the musician himself is not there.

He also asks her if there is a recipe for gluten-free pizza.

"Because man, pizza is a great human creation that everyone need to try. And no intolerance should prevent people from being happy!"

(Sammy, it's just pizza)

Luckily for him, Jodi just happened to have a gluten-free recipe book. And, lo and behold, the pizza recipe is there too!

Jodi made it especially for the Farmer, as the Farmer is also her friend, a real sweetheart, and Sam seems to like them a lot ;) ("Mom!")

The pizza was really tasty. And the Farmer can safely eat it with Sam without fear for their health.

Indeed, the food of the gods!

Harvey:

Oh, Harvey understands Farmer very well. And not only as their doctor, but also as another person who doesn't tolerate gluten.

Friend or partner, he will never forget this when cooking if the Farmer dropped by to visit Harvey. He also doesn't forget about this when dispensing medicines and vitamins if the Farmer has caught a cold or other illness.

If they feel bad about accidentally eating a cookie, then Harvey will immediately come running to their call.

No wonder Harvey is very concerned about Farmer's health - he's a doctor after all, and the effects of coeliac can be very unpleasant (and sometimes life-threatening).

He still doesn't ever lose his temper if there's an emergency, so Harvey's friend (or spouse) is in safe hands.

The doctor is sorry that this disease is incurable. But it's not even that he and the Farmer can't eat pastries (Harvey dislike sweets and pies anyway, preferring vegetables and healthier food). It's just that even the slightest touch of your cutlery with gluten food can provoke an exacerbation of symptoms.

But he will keep an eye on this as often as possible, and the Farmer will also remind Harvey of this if he gets busy and accidentally reaches for a box of biscuits in Pierre's store, confusing it with a box of rice.

Shane:

Coel-what? Can you repeat again?

It took Shane a little longer to figure out what the disease was. So the Farmer can't eat anything with gluten or they'll get sick?

"...Listen, I recently had a burger and pizza in the Saloon, and my hands are still a little dirty after eating. Should I move away from you?"

Shane immediately moved a meter away from the Farmer when they confirmed that cross contamination could also be a problem.

The Farmer feels guilty after this, but Shane told them not to worry about it. After all, it is not their fault that they are gluten intolerant.

"Maybe I fucked my own health, but I don't want to harm other people's health. I'm not a complete asshole."

Before meeting with the Farmer, he began to wash his hands more often.

Sometimes he will defend the Farmer at the fair if someone persistently offers the Farmer to taste the pastries.

Also, eggs don't contain gluten, so they can make a good launch for a guest who comes to Marnie's Ranch (or for a spouse's breakfast)

His chickens will never let you down. Good girls!

Sebastian:

"Oh, sorry..."

"Sebby, what are you sorry for?"

Well, doesn't that mean it will restrict his friend the Farmer from growing certain crops, like wheat, for example? It's just... sad.

Moreover, he just wanted to invite the Farmer to his basement for another Solarion Chronicles: The Game with snacks. But Sam always brings pizza and Abigail brings blueberry cobbler...

No, he doesn't want it to limit his friendship with the Farmer because of that. Therefore, Sebastian still invites the Farmer, promising that he will arrange everything.

Fortunately, Sam and Abby were sympathetic to the situation and prepared gluten-free snacks, since there was a lot of choice.

Although Sam was still a little dramatic. "They've never had pizza?! It's -" "Sam, shut up already."

The board game sessions were just as fun, and the seeki were delicious too.

Sebastian will now henceforth remember Farmer's coeliac. He also wanted to ask them out on a date- uh, he mean just have some fun time in the Saloon, play pool, maybe walk around the city after...

"A night with billiards and no pizza? Is this even legal? :D" "SAM!!!"

#you can guess what kind of food I was eating while writing this headcanon :D #maybe the pizza joke is overdue #but i like it anyway #i hope you having fun reading this too snake 😃#thanks for asking!#stardew valley #sdv #sdv headcanons #sdv sam #sdv sebastian #sdv shane #sdv elliott #sdv harvey #sdv alex

84 notes · View notes

alexiswritingstuff · 1 year

Text

A Man And His Guard. 1/2

Status: Completed.

Pairing: Gustavo Fring x male reader.

Other appearances: Mike Ehrmantraut.

Summary: During the rise of Gus’ paranoia, Mike hires you in an attempt to ease it. You work where he does, do everything he says and later even learn that you are to go home with him.

Neither of you knew what to expect of each other, but how does one Mr. Fring react when you will not stop making... comments.

Warnings: flirting.

Always be aware that there might be spelling mistakes and such in my writing. I do read over them, but they can just slip under my radar sometimes.

A/N: I think this is the first time I am actually writing a male reader fic so I hope I do it justice. I am a male myself but I rarely use gendered terms with the reader anyway.

Also I’m like terrible at flirting so if the readers lines aren’t great then... my bad ig.

This is a two part series, so begin waiting for the next edition to arrive!

I hope you enjoy!

More Gustavo fics.

It was around the time that Lalo Salamanca was presumed ‘not dead’ when you had gotten the job.

Their crew was sparse, most had been taken up at posts where they surveyed the other properties/places that Mr. Fring usually went to. So Mike reached out with an offer.

You knew him from work done in the past where you had acted as a guard for a person he wanted to meet, for a reason you had later learned, but that specific guy had a target on his back from a lot of local businesses.

For this job, like many others, you had no idea what you were getting into. And even if there was a proper brief, none of it would prepare you for what would actually come.

Gustavo Fring had been a name thrown around many times in your life. A very common thing when working in this particular field.

But, seeing him right there in the flesh, on practically a daily basis at this point, was a thing that there wasn’t any words to describe. Because usually no one lived to even talked about it, or, obviously, they weren’t allowed to.

It was some time in the late hours of the afternoon, the liveliness of restaurant slowly reducing as time went by.

There were barely any customers occupying the booths or the neighbouring tables, and the new people coming in usually just wanted something for the road if they couldn’t be bothered to wait in the drive through.

You were moving amidst the dinning area, the long dust pan and brush in hand as you collected up stuff that had fallen during peoples meals, and swept across the beige tiles that felt increasingly bright in the sun.

The surroundings were still a bit noisy. People were chatting away, cars passed at almost every minute, there was muffled clatter from the other employees as they moved around kitchen equipment as they cooked.

It wasn’t that bad.

In fact, the only thing that you didn’t really like about ‘working’ in Los Pollos Hermanos was the need to wear its uniform.

Being a guard in this side of the business usually enforced the wearing of dark coloured clothes. It was a way to keep up a feeling of mystery, provide the impression that you were a person not to be messed with.

But there you were, stood in an obnoxiously bright yellow shirt which was paired with that damn red visor and a matching apron, to top it all off.

This might as well have been a punishment than a job.

After however long, you completed your round of the dinning area and ducked into the hallway beside the drinks machine, finding the place where you had initially picked up the dust pan and brush to return them.

And you did, a deep breath filling your lungs once the equipment was leaned back up against the wall.

It had been a long time since you had worked around a plethora of people and their own individual personalities, so coming to this work place almost felt jarring in comparison. People were properly polite. Gave smiles that were actually genuine.

The clear of someone's throat emitted from somewhere to the left, and your head turned in that direction immediately, your feet soon following, “Mr. Fring.”

“Has the floor been cleaned?” The way he dressed for work was always so smart, though it kind of reminded you of SpongeBob, and it perfectly matched with a lot of things about him.

You gave him a simple nod, “Yes, it has.”

“There are still a few customers out there, so I’ll do the last round once they leave.” you then explained and turned yourself to face the doorway that lead to the main area, attempting to peer round it so that you could see into the dinning area again and the car park through the windows.

“Any signs?”

The words left you just blinking for a moment. You had thought by taking your leave from the conversation that it would bring on its end. But now you were looking back to the man who hadn’t moved a step.

Anyone else would’ve been confused at what he had meant by that question. but you knew instantly. And even if it was your job to check, it sort of made you feel bad that you had to.

“No one came.” you stated, plain and simple so that it wouldn’t display your pity, and Mr. Fring subtly took in a deep breath, his chin only slightly raising, “Good... Go clean the empty tables.”

Now was when he was about to walk away, probably to go back to his office to make calls as a way to further check if there was any new information, but when he watched your face crinkle up in what looked like distaste at the task he had just given you.

He seemed to become a little distracted.

“Do I at least get paid more?”

Sure, Mr. Fring had a lot of encounters with many different people, each with their own separate way of approaching things, different ways of speaking.

But no one had ever attempted to talk the way that you did. Especially when in direct contact.

It was a thing that could only make him stare, even glare, in an attempt to hide his surprise. But it wouldn’t shake you. In fact all you did was shrug, “Oh, well.” you breathed out, giving him one last glance before you moved to get the cleaning supplies.

“I guess if it’s for you then I’ll do it.”

You found yourself making your way through the many hallways of Los Pollos Hermanos. An amount that after a long day made the building feel like a maze, though the size wasn’t even comparable to one.

Soon, you had located the way to your bosses door, a deep breath sucking into your lungs before you raised your hand to knock against it. The sound was the only thing that filled the hallway.

“It’s Y/n. Y/n L/n, Sir.” you called quickly, realising that at this time he was always expecting to be in danger. A mysterious knock to his door wasn’t exactly going to help with that.

It took a good minute for there to be any kind of response, but after it sounded like an object had been set down, the muffled voice finally came through the gaps of the door.

“Come in.”

Your hand grabbed at the handle, the cool metal almost shocking the warmth of your skin, before you twisted it until the door was pushable. “Hey,” you had began, ready to step into the new room. But that was quickly halted when your eyes fell on its contents.

It was very dark compared to literally any other room in the building. The walls may have been a little darker already, but because of him relying on only the light from the sun and a lamp residing on his desk, it took you a moment to actually see anything.

You cleared your throat when your gaze landed on a waiting Mr. Fring, “Sorry to interrupt-- Lyle said that you wanted to see me earlier?” you explained and finally stepped into the room so that you could close the door behind you.

“I didn’t know I had made such an impact already.”

Mr. Frings eyebrows had twitched in a way that almost wasn’t visible. However, the rest of his face didn’t change, “When accepting the job, did Ehrmantraut explain what it would hold?”

Your shoes scraped the ground as you stopped yourself about a step away from his desk. Your back straightened as you took a moment to think, “He barely does when he has an offer.” you pointed out simply, though your tone changed when you next spoke. “Was I wrong?”

“Did he mention that you would be working for me... personally?”

In that moment, you had paused for about three seconds, even if it had felt like 10 minutes in your head, as a certain word rung through your ears over and over again.

“Personally, huh...” you repeated. It tasted sweet on your lips, your mind running very fast over any of the things that it could mean. “I guess I didn’t quite catch that part... But I like the sound of it.”

Through your now, slightly, dazed state, you had missed the way Mr. Fring had lowered his head just a tad. His lips were pressed together. His eyebrows begging to furrow though he wouldn’t let them, especially when you had spoke again.

“Am I supposed to go get you stuff? Run errands, drive you places-- That kind of thing?”

The man before you almost huffed a laugh. He dipped his head as he slowly pushed back his chair. “In the future, it is possible.” Mr. Fring was now stood up from his seat, his feet taking him round his desk in such a slow pace that it had your pulse raising. “But for now we are going to my home.”

He stopped in front of you, about two and a half steps away, with that strong gaze he always held. Though this time it most definitely felt different as your breath was close to hitching, “Now I really do like the sound of this.”

In about a second, Mr. Frings body had entirely stiffened.

It was unnoticeable to people who had just met him as he was usually quite a ridged person, the wind couldn’t even sway him. But to someone that knew him enough, it was clear as day.

The intimidation he had held on his face had faded as if it had just been wiped off with a cloth. It was almost like he had forgotten how to breathe.

Suddenly, before you could clock anything, Mr. Fring turned towards his desk like there should be someone waiting on the other side. It almost startled you. But soon, a hand of his reached across the surface of the table.

“Mr. Fring?” you had questioned, any and all excitement now being swarmed by confusion.

Just as you were about to move, try to catch the look on his face, his feet had began to twist until the rest of his body urged to follow. And now, he stood, facing you once again.

His eyes were aimed at what you could now see was some kind of sticky note folded in half, and then they flicked to yours.

His chin raised until it was in level with your own and by the next time you had blinked, the note was held out in front of you.

“Read it.” was all he said when you hadn’t taken it, and after just looking at him for a moment, you sucked in a quiet breath, retrieving the paper from between his fingers.

By the time you had began unfolding it, Mr. Fring had turned once again, making his way back to his deskchair when your eyes landed on the word in black ink.

“Lakeview?” The chair squeaked beneath him as he sat, but besides that he didn’t even bother to look up. He simply grabbed a pen and dragged a clipboard in front of his eyes.

“Am I allowed to ask, or is this going to be a game of hard to get?” The urge to smirk tugged at the corners of your mouth when the tip of his pen visibly stilled. Though, when Mr. Frings head slowly raised as if it was in slow motion, that feeling had stopped in a instant.

His eyes were almost harsh when they met with yours, as if they could pierce right through your own. They never moved and as time passed, he hadn’t even blinked. “I’m sure you can figure it out.”

It was a warning. He knew it, you knew it.

So, guess his surprise when the only thing you had done in response was, once again, simply shrug your shoulders.

His whole body froze like it had done before, though this time he hadn’t broken the eye contact.

Every other person he had met, even ones that worked for him, crumbled under his gaze when someone had pressed his patience or authority. They would look away, forget how to speak, or quickly turn on their feet to do whatever he had asked.

But not you.

Your shoes were planted in the same place as before until you wanted them to move.

“You know, I do like a good game, Mr. Fring.” It was so silent in that room that it was like you could physically see your words pierce through the air. A pin could drop and the sound could be heard as if it was played through a thousand speakers. “I think having an opponent like you is going to be great fun.”

That was when you had officially turned on your heel. The smirk broke across your lips the moment you faced the door, and even more so when it had opened.

By the time you were back in the hallway, sifting the post-it back and forth between your fingers, the image of Mr. Frings expression was clear in your mind in a way that made it so hard to not laugh.

His lips were parted. Every muscle in his face looked as if it had been frozen in time, tense. He looked like a deer caught in headlights.

He almost lost the grip he had on his pen.

You ended up back in the main area of the restaurant, your eyes being hit with a much dimmer colour this time as the sun began to hide.

All the tables had already been cleared earlier by you, and Mr. Fring when he couldn’t keep his mind occupied. The customers had gone home, hopefully pleased with their meals, which let an almost eerie silence hang in the air as the other employees had left too.

You moved through the rows of tables, searching for even the slightest speck of dirt or trail of crumbs that would set a certain man off if he saw. But there was nothing.

It had all been more than thoroughly cleaned.

So, you ended up by the table next to the entrance, a slight sigh huffing through your nose. Your body wound round the back of bench closest to the door, a hand reaching for the red blinds that covered the window.

Your fingers parted two of the slats, and you made yourself slightly lean over the bench so that you could get closer to the glass that lay beneath the blinds.

Upon first glance of the world outside, everything seen was slowly being engulfed by the black mass of night. One so deep that it had started to prevent the ability to see the horizon.

The only car in the parking lot was Mr. Frings, coloured in such a way that it would’ve been invisible in the evening light if it wasn’t for the reflections from the surrounding lamps.

There was no one in the car, no one outside of it, and no other vehicle stalking around, as the rest were just general cars that passed by on the main road, and that was now like every 10-15 minutes.

After making sure that there was complete satisfaction with the fact that there was not a singular person in the vicinity, you let the slats set back into the original places, stepping away from the window so you could make your way through the restaurant.

Again.

The sigh that left your mouth this time was of relief when you opened the door, to what would be a supply closet for anyone else. There they were, sat in the neatest pile you could be bothered to put them in. Your clothes.

Pretty much the only item of your own that you got to keep during the day was your shoes, so when that sweet sweet fabric was in your hands, it was utter peace. Paradise. Like reuniting with a long lost lover.

Upon imagining how a person would look standing in the middle of a closet and practically cradling a set of clothes, however, you straightened yourself up into the usual guard posture, any remnants of excitement fading from your face.

And then you swivelled on your foot, leaving the closet like you had never even been in there.

By the time you had gotten to the front of the restaurant all over again, the clothing happily held in your hand, it seemed that a certain Mr. Fring had beat you to it.

There was no way to tell if he had disliked having to stand there waiting as his head was directed towards the window you had been look through before, his hands clasped behind his back that made him properly appear like a business man.

Or just an old man.

If you could see his face however, you thought that you would’ve seen that usual, intentionally, blank expression. A theory that was then proven to be true when you had stopped by his side. You cleared your throat, “I take it we’re going to yours now?”

His spine straightened in about a second when your voice found his ears. He had gotten lost, his gaze consumed by the endless possibilities of what waited for him outside the restaurant.

But in the next second, by the next time he had breathed, his body twisted towards you like he had been standing like that the whole time. The previous vacant look that carried across his face was replaced by a smile, though his eyes had not changed.

And that was it. That was all you got.

Mr. Fring passed right by you without another word, his footsteps echoing around the unsettlingly empty room, before he made his way through the door with the exit sign shining above it.

When it had closed again, further encasing the restaurant in a strong silence, you had begun to blink, your brain at least attempting to process what had just happened.

However, the longer you stood there, the further away Mr. Fring became, and by now he was on the path between the rows of parking spaces. Getting closer and closer to his car.

You almost stumbled over your feet as you made your way over to the exit yourself.

The door opened in a flash, engulfing your skin in the night air, and you were about to continue walking... Until you heard the jingle in your pocket. “Shit.”

There was a meeting that you had with Mike about a day prior. He gave a run down of the usual stuff that went down in Los Pollos Hermanos and, at least, the basic duties that the boss would have you do.

You were given a set of keys, each for pretty much any place that Mr. Fring had access to himself. Now it seemed that he was testing your memory.

After glancing back at Mr. Fring, you let out a hushed grunt, pulling the keys out of your pocket from under your apron, and then turned back to the door, locking it in a speed that should’ve gained you an award.

You swivelled round after doing a test pull on the handle and basically began jogging to catch the man who was now very close to that blue vehicle.

But just as the distance was beginning to shorten, a few things began piecing together.

The sudden change, the smile that he used on other employees, something that he hadn’t used on you all day until it was time to leave the safety of the restaurant.

You understood that he would have to put on an act at some point, sure. Though apparently it hadn’t occurred to you what that would mean until now.

He was the boss, and you were just some random guy who had a job in his business.

That doesn’t exactly give the right to catch a ride with him, now did it?

“Uh, Mr. Fring?”

The man himself had just placed a hand on the roof of his vehicle. His eyes were once again aimed into the distance, and it took about five seconds to get himself back as he then turned to you, the same smile taking over his lips, “Yes, Y/n?”

“I believe that I’m supposed to be getting picked up on something called Lakeview. Would you happen to know where that is?”

It wasn’t a name for a person, as you knew for a fact that if the man in front of you had a target of any kind he would just straight up say it, and it wasn’t going to be a place because Mike would’ve at least said something.

It was a pickup point.

Mr. Frings chin slowly raised. And now, with the smile that took over his lips, his eyes seemed to crinkle with it, “Lakeview road?”

Your spine straightened, all the air coming into your lungs feeling like it was on hold, especially when you nodded your head as a commitment to your idea.

Mr. Fring simply turned his head upon the confirmation, and he pointed towards the road on the other side of the main one, which was directly across from the proper entrance of Los Pollos Hermanos.

You squinted your eyes after following the direction, trying to see the road that was partially illuminated by a streetlight as your shoulders attempted to ease from the previous tension.

And then you spotted it. A car parked beside the red fencing.

It was one that you didn’t recognise, but still.

You were right.

In order to keep the smug look off of your face, you lightly bowed your head when your attention went back to your boss. “Thank you, Sir.” you said and Mr. Fring simply copied your previous movement before finally opening his door.

“Have a good night.”

By the time his car had left the grounds of Los Pollos Hermanos, you had made it to the edge of the main road. You were stood on the concrete sidewalk, a streetlight towering over your head as you looked back and forth to gage where any oncoming traffic was.

You only had to do it once for each side, tonight apparently being a night where not many people were aiming to travel.

So on you went, now jogging across the two lanes until you got to the other side like that one chicken did. Your shoed feet were met with a mix of sand and stones this time as there was no sidewalk to even the ground.

And then there it was in front of you.

A blue RAV4.

The driver must have sensed the new presence as within the next second, the door on their side had opened, a scene that had your feet slowing by the time the figure was out of the car.

It was a woman. One you had seen in a picture when Mike showed members of the crew working for Mr. Fring. Mrs. Ryman? Her and her husband were the people ‘occupying’ the safe house.

“Mr. L/n?” she questioned, and as soon as you gave her a nod of confirmation, she immediately proceeded to walk to the back of the car before any sort of question could fall from your lips.

She grabbed the handle on the left side of the door and pulled on it until it was open about half way so that your eyes could cast onto whatever was inside. You almost tilted your head like a dog.

There, in the back of a damn car, laying on his side very uncomfortably, was none other than Mike Ehrmantraut himself.

It all made sense.

It was late at night. Mr. Fring had now left Los Pollos Hermanos, meaning that if anyone was watching him, they would have followed his car to see where he was going next.

None one was watching you.

The urge to laugh was fighting itself way up your throat, but you took a deep breath in through your nose and let yourself walk forward when Mrs. Ryman had turned to you expectantly.

“You didn’t have another one of those sandwiches today, did you?” A grunt followed your words as you practically shoved yourself into the trunk of this random car, and shifted until the left side of your body was fully pressing into Mike’s.

The door was only just able to close again.

The surroundings were plunged into darkness. A few beams of light managed to filtered through the gaps in the backseats and the trunk cover enough so that you could make out the face of the man before you as you dropped your pile of close on your lap.

“I see you worked it out.”

Your body felt like it sunk into the walls of the car though it had barely moved, your hands raising to rub at the skin of your face either in disbelief or tiredness, “I will admit that I thought you were talking about an actual lake at first.”

Mike huffed a laugh at that, the two of you slightly rocking together when the car started backing up. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t try to find one.”

“Me too.”

Despite the fact that you were currently sat, cramped, in the back of a car. There was a feeling of comfort that had been kept from you throughout the day. Especially now that Mike was with you.

He might’ve been a man that has killed multiple people, and is not afraid to do the same to more... but so are you.

When you are on the right side, his right side, he’s just another old guy that you would see walking down the street, or sitting in a restaurant.

Being in this business meant needing to keep connections with certain people hidden so that they wouldn’t end up getting hurt as a result of someone trying to prove a point.

He was the closest thing to family.

Mike let one of those deep breaths seep through his nose, and you swear it almost sounded like the huff of a dragon. His head leaned back into the wall behind him. “How’s Gus?”

Ah. The question you knew was bound to be asked soon.

You shuffled slightly even if it wouldn’t do much, more scared of accidently kicking Mike in the ribs than anything else now. “Obsessed with me.”

The look Mike gave you was one that you could feel even if you couldn’t properly see it, and you tried not to smile as you fiddled with label of the shirt you held. The man most definitely rolled his eyes. “No, no... He’s obsessed with everything else to be honest.”

A sigh passed from your lips into the air inside the car.

Your head shook, a mixture of emotions filtering through your body as your mind reminded itself of Mr. Frings previous behaviour. “He really wants him to just show up already, but... man, I don’t know. I’m not sure if he’s actually prepared for that.”

“Well. That’s why you’re there.”

You tried to fully sit upright, only getting about half way before you looked at Mike with narrowed eyes, “Yeah, about that-- You know, when you said that you needed my skills, I was thinking more along the lines of stakeouts or surveillance stuff, or like... having me fight someone at least.”

“I didn’t exactly prepare to become a janitor.”

The car was most definitely somewhere down the main road by now. Mike’s head remained where it was, not even bothering to tilt it in your direction when he next spoke as he simply closed his eyes instead. “Still part of the job.”

You stifled a scoff, just watching the man when he attempted to cross his arms over his chest. “Gives you more acting lessons too.” Mike then added and you supressed the urge to kick him, more like nudge him, with your foot. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” It was your turn to roll your eyes.

“You’re still paying me more.”

The sky above was pitch black by the time of arrival on Jefferson Street. The quiet outside, the warmth of the car, and the general darkness worked together in a way that was the opposite for most people.

The distance between Los Pollos Hermanos and Mr. Frings house was far enough that if there was a kid sitting in one of the backseats they would be in a deep sleep.

But as an adult, you were wide awake. Especially when you felt the car begin to slow after a turn.

You attempted to prop yourself up from your slouched position, your eyes trying to find an angle where you could see out the window, despite the fact that it was very much impossible to do from inside a trunk.

“We’ll be out in a minute.” Mike assured, observing your many attempts at moving. You sunk back, mirroring his position when you hit into the wall of the car, “And how do you know that?”

As if on cue, the ride to the house seemed to have come to an end. The car stopped, again slightly jolting the two of you together. “We’re in the garage.” The monotonous edge to his voice was audible more than ever.

You could only blink for a moment as the muffled sound of someone getting out of the car echoed through what most definitely was a garage. “Jeez-- How many times have you had to do this?” you questioned, and it had Mike’s head shaking in a second, a grunt rumbling through his throat.

The door beside you finally opened, and though you had to squint due to the sudden light, you swung your legs to the side, eagerly pushing yourself out of the trunk.

“Oh, man.” you breathed out once on your own two feet, and moved to the side so that Mike could get himself up while you stretched your arms high above your head in a way that your spine needed very much. “Do we really have to do that every time?”

“It’s the safest way.” Mike insisted as he closed up the car and your head shook, “Seriously?” But he ignored you, starting to walk through the garage. “Follow me.”

Even after a ride like that it was immediately work time.

You wanted to complain until you couldn’t speak anymore, but nevertheless you complied and followed behind the man like a duckling does with its mother.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes flickered around the room when Mike opened the door to what was originally a living room, “Hey, Mike.” a man had called, and Ehrmantraut started to spark up a conversation.

However, when your gaze landed on the desk that his friend was sat at, your brain seemed to tune it out.

There was about about seven different monitors on and working. Each screen displayed a shot from wherever the camera was placed. It varied from the entrance and exits of this house to what you assumed was Mr. Frings.

But even then they seemed to changed at the click of a button to an entirely different location.

Maybe he was prepared.

“L/n.”

Your eyes snapped to the door way to find Mike stood about halfway through it. He tilted his head to the side and you began walking all over again when you realised what he meant.

So, now, he lead you through the hallways of the house. You nodded at anyone you passed, seemingly understanding the tired look on their faces though this was your first proper day.

Eventually you found yourself in the basement of the house, and while Mike continued through the room, your feet slowed on the platform before the last two steps, your eyes yet again being consumed by the new atmosphere.

This was where the couple stayed after doing their daily appearance out of the house, as the rest was swarmed by a bunch of dudes.

They had most of the stuff they need. They had cupboards, a kitchen area along the furthest wall, a clothing wrack. There was a king sized bed, and a table to your right where they could sit and do whatever they wanted if they weren’t upstairs at this time.

And though your mind practically begged you to continue looking around. A certain question sprung through your thoughts.

“Listen, I appreciate the fact that there are a lot of things you can’t tell me about this job,” you began, a hand placing down on the little railing, “But am allowed to ask why you have just lead me into a basement?”

Ehrmantraut was now stood in front of the big shelf that sat at the corner of the right wall. It extended to the ceiling but the width was about 4 columns worth. Your eyebrows were quick to furrow when he reached for one of the shelves.

Even more so when quiet beeps sounded from what only could be a keypad.

“Mike?” you had questioned, a mild laziness to your voice as your brain consumed itself with finding the source of noise. And then your feet finally moved, allowing you off of the platform, onto the carpet.

But it seemed you had stopped as fast as you had started.

Your body almost jolted when a mechanical sound pierced through the air, and soon, Mike grabbed onto the middle divider with both hands, beginning to pull on it as hard as he could.

A rumbling rippled through the floor you stood on as the shelf scuffed against the carpet, and despite your disbelief, the mechanism disconnected from the first column of shelf.

It was opening like a natural door would. There was certain things on shelves that shook with the movement, though others appeared as if they had been glued down. Just there for decoration.

It wasn’t until the shelf door was turned as much as it could against it’s hinges that your eyes allowed you to focused on what lay beneath it. Your jaw almost dropped.

It was a tunnel.

There was a goddamn tunnel that connected this house to the next.

“No way.”

Mike didn’t have to tell you twice when he signalling for you to follow him this time, and upon going through the doorway, turning into the passage, it almost gave you chills.

But that was more due to the fact that the temperature was different than in the house.

The walls of the tunnel were a grey concrete. One rose higher than the other leading the ceiling to have to curve to meet with them both, and support beams, the same colour as the walls they were up against, were placed about two steps apart, the lights situated between them.

Not even a deep breath could ease the speed of your heart. In fact the closer the journey was to its end, the faster it went.

So, when the back of, what you were assuming was, the same mechanism as in the previous house was now right in front of Mike, your shoulders fought to lower.

There was a combination of knocks that the man did against the smooth door. A sound that echoed through your ears over and over again the way ripples moved in water.

Mike took about a step back with a sniff when muffled beeps came through the, practically invisible, cracks of the door, and your body instinctively straightened like a soldier in front of their commander.

The door had opened.

There was no reasoning for the way you felt right then and there.

You had met Mr. Fring earlier. You had seen him, you had spoken, exchanged even informal parts of conversation, and have stood beside each other on multiple occasions.

So why, as you stared back at the man who was now revealed in one of his usual suits, was it like your lungs had forgotten their very function.

Mr. Fring gave Mike a nod to which the man did the same, and before you knew it, with a clear of his throat, Ehrmantraut turned on his feet, beginning to make his way back through the tunnel.

Your lips parted as you watched him go, though no words could even try to roll off of your tongue. The scuff of his shoes were the only thing to echo through the air, so when that familiar voice broke through, it had your head turning back within seconds.

“L/n.”

His eyes were already on yours by the time you were back to your original stance.

Your eyebrows were raised, a mixture of eagerness and excitement rumbling through your chest and ears when he tilted his head to the side. A gesture that Mike had used earlier to get you to follow him. “Come in.”

Just you and Mr. Fring.

“I’ll show you around.”

#gustavo fring #gus fring #gustavo fring x reader #gustavo fring x male reader #gus fring x reader #better call saul #better call saul x reader #mike ehrmantraut #male reader #bcs

81 notes · View notes

itgetsbetterproject · 7 months

Text

Generation vs Generation! ⚡️ For LGBTQ+ History Month, we asked our It Gets Better Youth Voices and Outwords Archive storytellers the same questions, so we could see how their answers change (or remain the same) as our LGBTQ+ history evolves!

We matched up Youth Voice Eli, a trans activist, artist, and student filmmaker, with Jude, a trans activist, therapist, and sex educator who made headlines as one of the first trans men to receive gender-affirming surgery in 1972!

🟣 Do you have a favorite LGBTQ+ film? What is it and why?

Eli: "Oh I have so many! But the first two that come to mind are Portrait Of A Lady On Fire by Celine Sciamma and Milk by Gus Van Sant."

Jude: "I could not choose just one! My favorite LGBTQ+ films are Some Like it Hot; Victor, Victoria; Tootsie; Mrs. Doubtfire; The Naked Civil Servant; and Yentl."

🟣 What LGBTQ+ landmark would you most like to visit and why?

Eli: "I would like to visit the Stonewall Inn in Greenwich Village, New York. It’s such an important landmark and sort of the birthplace of the more modern LGBTQ+ rights movement."

Jude: "The Stonewall Inn. I am very happy that it was made a National Landmark. It represents a pivotal time in our LGBTQ+ history. I am very aware that Stonewall was NOT the first such event important to our history. I hope that eventually other such sites will be recognized/honored."

🟣 Which of the Pride flags do you feel best represents you and why?

Eli: "I like the progress pride flag, because it has both the trans flag and the rainbow pride flag. And it's a reminder that as a community we are always moving forward and changing."

Jude: "I like the transgender pink/white/light blue flag because it best represents me as a trans man. But I also like the newer, most inclusive of Pride Flags because I consider myself as part of the larger LGBTQ+ community."

🟣 What’s one fact about the LGBTQ+ community that you think everyone should know?

Eli: "There are so many different kinds of people and identities within the community. We all deserve to be treated with respect and to live a happy life identifying however we choose."

Jude: "We are here, all around you. We have existed since the beginning of time, in every culture. We are every bit as valuable and as worthy of respect, equal human rights, and pursuit of happiness. I do not want your 'acceptance. I do not want your 'tolerance'. I want you to join me in celebrating me and other LGBTQ+ folks as we truly are!"

We'll have more matches for ya throughout Oct!

#it gets better #gen z #boomer #generation vs generation #lgbtq history #lgbtq history month #queer history #lgbtqia #trans man #trans masc

42 notes · View notes

sauce-machine · 8 months

Text

Perfect

My first Pizza Tower fic, and first fic in ten years. (Angst, Yelling, Mentions of abuse.)

“Are you-a serious?! Again?!” Peppino shouts so loudly one would think the walls of the pizzeria were shaking. It was loud enough for the rats in the back alley to scurry away, for Gustavo and Brick to fully turn their attention to the kitchen, and for his clone to slither backwards into a corner in fear.

Since the tower fell almost three months ago, the beings that inhabited that tower went to live in other places. Some integrated into the wild, others had families to fall back on. But not all of them.

Peppino’s clone would skulk around outside of the restaurant during hours, sometimes trying to get in, other times digging for food in the trash. At the mere suggestion that they take in the clone, Peppino would sputter and throw a fit. He wanted NOTHING to do with that clone.

That’s what he would say, until Gustavo finally wore him down.

The clone would only help with odd jobs in the back for some food, nothing more. It would stay in the back where customers wouldn’t be able to see it.

For the most part, his clone was pretty good at being told what to do. Sweep the floors, take out the trash, clean the bathrooms, fold the pizza boxes. It made things easier around the kitchen.

But every so often, his clone would get too ambitious. Accidentally knocking over orders, spilling sauce, minor mistakes in the eyes of the everyday working man.

But Peppino was a workaholic, with a temper that could explode at any given moment. And when his clone happened to drop an order flat on the floor, these were one of those moments.

“Fucking hell! The moment I turn my back to you, you mess-a everything up! What the hell are we going to do with you?!” Peppino shouts at it. His face is red and sweaty, not too far from his usual state.

Gustavo comes running in. “What happened?! Is everyone-a okay?” Gustavo asks. He immediately sees the pie face down on the floor. “I see, I see. Peppino, just-a give me the order and I’ll remake it-a.” Gustavo said softly. His eyes wander over to the clone cowering in the corner. It was almost a pile of mush at this point.

Peppino glares at Gustavo. “Gus! It shouldn’t even-a had the pie in its hands! If this thing would just listen to me--” Peppino argues.

“I think you’re being-a too hard on him. Look, Peppino..” Gustavo says as he softly gestures to the clone in the corner.

The mushy pile that is Fake Peppino gurgles a few things. “...Yrros..Yrros.. ...yrros m'I…” It says.

Peppino shakes his head. “No, enough is enough! I’ve-a had it! I want this thing OUT!!!” Peppino yells from the back of his throat, pointing sharply at the clone.

As soon as he does point, the clone jumps up and screams. It’s much more rattling and sharp than Peppino’s yell, and even more inhuman. It spreads its limbs out, holding itself up in the corner of the room. It lets out a hiss at Peppino as it jump’s into the air ducts.

Peppino sighs, but gives himself a weary smile. He claps his hands together. “Well! It-a seems to have-a gotten the message. Now, to fix that order..” Peppino says.

“Are you really going to-a let it suffer like that?” Gustavo asks.

Peppino rolls his eyes. Gustavo is his closest friend, in fact, many creatures and people consider Gustavo to be their close friend. He has a knack for befriending the weird, creepy, unsettling, and unnatural. And also Mr. Stick.

“That thing can’t-a suffer. It has no heart.” Peppino says.

“Oh, really? What makes you-a think that?” Gustavo asks.

“Because it wants to-a be me! I bet that moment I close my eyes tonight-a, it’ll sneak into my apartment and slit-a my throat!” Peppino loudly exclaims, making a knife cutting motion across his neck.

“It’s been-a months now! Don’t you think it would have already-a tried to do that?” Gustavo asks. He begins to clean up the mess on the floor, Brick slinks in to help.

“Maybe it’s-a waiting for the right moment. When I’m alone and don’t-a expect it.” Peppino mutters as he carefully places the toppings on the pizza.

Gustavo places a few dirty rags in a bucket of water, finishing up with the cleaning. “Oh, well, I hope you’re not-a too afraid.” Gusatvo says.

“I’ve-a got the gun upstairs.” Peppino says.

“And why do you-a have the gun upstairs?” Gusatvo asks.

Peppino hated that question. Gusatvo knew the answer, why even bother asking it? He keeps it upstairs in case…

Because…

He just…

Peppino chose not to answer, and instead, just kept working.

The rest of the day was quiet. A few more customers coming in and out, nothing special. Closing time has come yet again. Another day, another dollar, until the rent is due. Again.

“Have a good night, Peppino.” Gustavo says while riding Brick out.

Brick does not squeak a goodbye. How odd.

Peppino waves them off. He has to count the earnings from today, then, he can finally go to bed and forget about this nonsense day.

DING!

Cash register is open.

“One, two, three, four, five…” Peppino begins counting.

Drip….Drip.…Drip….Drip.…Drip….

Where was that dripping coming from? Is it a leak? Better not be, just another damn bill to pay..

“Six, seven, eight, nine, ten…” Peppino continues to count.

Drip….Drip.…Drip….Drip.…Drip….

The sound is…getting closer? What if.. No it can’t be. That thing ran off, but still…

Peppino looks around for the source of the dripping. He doesn’t have to look long or hard at all, as he sees flesh colored ooze dripping from the air duct above him, and a single eye looking down at him.

“EEEEEYYYYAAAAAHHHOOOUGH!!!”

“!!!HGUOOOHHHAAAAAYYYYEEEEE”

The two of them scream. Peppino feels his heart shoot up in his throat. His entire chest beating like a drum, wanting to escape.

The clone immediately drops from the air duct and onto the floor, where it tries to run away, but instead backs itself into a corner.

“You!!” Peppino shouts. “You almost-a gave me a heart attack!”

The clone melts into a little pile of flesh again, gurgling apologies.

Peppino approaches the mass of flesh. “What-a the hell is the big idea, scaring me like that?!” He can really feel his anger rising now. “Am I going to have to beat-a some sense into you?! Is that it?!” Peppino yells at the clone.

His clone stops shuddering for a moment, it regains its usual shape. Tall, disproportionate, googly eyes, pink cheeks, all that it was missing was its goofy smile.

The clone’s hand reaches back to the kitchen, searching around for something. Peppino is left completely in the dark. “What-a are you-?”

CLANK!

The clone drops a knife in front of Peppino.

He stares at it.

“What it…Why?” Peppino asks.

“.tnemhsinuP” Utters the clone. It nudges the knife closer to Peppino with its foot. “.tnemhsinuP” it repeats.

“You’re-a going to punish me?! For what?!” Peppino hollers.

The clone winces and shakes its head. “.tnemhsinup yM. tnemhsinup yM.” It gestures towards itself with one arm, and sticks out the other one as if it’s waiting for something to happen.

Silence fills the pizzeria, an uncomfortable and heavy one. Peppino had no idea what the clone was getting at, but he didn’t want to say anything. For once, he was analyzing the situation before him instead of just acting upon it.

Until finally, he spoke. “You want-a me to-a punish you? Why?” Peppino asks.

“.azzip depporD..” The clone gurgles sadly.

“But why would-a that--”

“.tnemhsinup sa tuo hself ym fo stib tuc dluow daehazziP .rewot eht ni pu ssem dluow I nehW.” said the clone. Its eyes stared directly into Peppino’s, despite them always being a bit lopsided.

The clone steps closer.

"...pu ssem dluow I revenehw os ,tcefrep eb ot em detnaw eH .uoy fo enolc a ot teg dluoc eh tsesolc eht saw I" said the clone.

".pohC" It bubbled.

“Pohcpohcpohcpohcpohcpohcpohcpohcpohcpohcpohcpohcpohcpohcpohcp̸̰͉̯̲͈̒̈́͂̀́̈́͋̈́ơ̴̱͔̭̤͛̅̈́͒͒h̶̛̟̞̲͖͔̙̝̯͓͙̣͔̝͔̝̋͐̈́̆̅c̵̲͔͋̈́̿̀̆͌͘̕͝͝p̶̨̡͉̃̑̏̐͑̐̔ͅo̴̜̻̗͉̖̱͙͆̂̂̃̾͌͋̽͂̏͂̕͝h̵̢̙̜̻͕̕c̶̢͈̰̮̦̘̖͍̑̚p̴̝͕̠͈̭͔͈͖͚͖̩̟̓̍̀̈̍̕o̵̲͊͂̏͑h̸̞͇͓̘̞̲̿̂̅̚͝͝ç̴̐͛̃͛̄̂̂̌̂̃̑̚͝͠p̷̡͕͚̞͚̬̻̣̝͉̝̰͍̤̈́o̴̧̞͉̙̳͔̜̲͍̩̺͂͛́̿̅́͂͐̀̿̈́̏͜ḩ̷̼̣̺͍̾́̇̀̀͐c̶̹̮̆̄͗̓̑̃͘ͅp̴̨̧̥̬͇̪̫̰̬̗̰̫̝̜͝o̶͎̳͉̲̎̅͆̊͐̔̀͘̕͝ḧ̴̛̟͉̯̝͕̝́̎̉͒̓̆̾̓̆̆̅͝͠͠č̵̩̿͂͊̏̐̈́͝p̶͉̑̔̎̃͑͛̍̀̈́͑̓̀͛̚͝o̴̧̭̪̤̟͉͖̪͚̹͖̞͇̒̈́̊͆̃͜͠h̷͇̩͇̟̗̤͎͍̬̐̋͊͐̌̒̽͊̾͛͌̔̔͘ç̸̧̺̫̹̲̠̝͍̩͌̐̆̈́̉̈́…” The clone kept repeating itself over and over until even it just kept repeating a garbled mess of backwards words and cries. It melts again into the floor, but the arm is still up at Peppino.

Disturbed. Peppino always felt a bit disturbed at the sight of his clone. But this time, he didn’t feel it towards the fake, but instead himself.

What the hell did Pizzahead do to this thing? All it does is act like a weird dog, sniffing things, occasionally eating restaurant equipment and the odd rat. His clone didn’t deserve that, nobody did.

Peppino looks down at his clone’s hand, and takes it. His clones shudders, morphing and changing against its will in a fit of unbridled anxiety and fear. This thing is just like him..

This thing is him..

It acts like him, it mimics his speech patterns, it even cooks like him. Which makes Peppino wonder if his clone suffers the same way he does?

“Mio dio… When the hell did I become-a so heartless?” Peppino sighs as he gingerly puts his other hand over his clone’s. “I’m not gonna hurt you, compango.”

“?ognapmoC” his clone uttered softly.

Peppino kicks away the knife between the two of them and sits down. “Now, I don’t-a know what-a Pizzahead did to you in-a that tower. I almost-a don’t want to know… But rest assured, I will never-a do that to you, capeesh?” Peppino says. He explains it sternly, like a father talking to his kid.

His clone slowly regains his form, building up from the pile of flesh it once was.

“I’m not-a exactly used to having you here yet. If I’m-a being honest, you still kinda freak me out. But, I’m-a sorry for yelling. I’ve let-a my anger go unchecked when it comes to you. You didn’t ask to be brought into this-a world, so why should you be punished for it?” Peppino says.

He notices his clone poking at his hand. Peppino takes it and gives it a firm but loving squeeze. “I’ll be more-a patient with you from now on.” Peppino says.

For the first time in what feels like a while, his clone smiles again. It was that moment, Peppino learned to appreciate his clone’s big dopey smile.

#pizza tower #fake peppino #peppino spaghetti

31 notes · View notes