#EXCUSE ME??! THE RESTAURANT COVERED IN MAGGOTS???!!?!? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sexyrasputin · 3 years

Text

in which magnus sort of acts like a decent human being. sort of.

“Gemma, baby, I promise I’m not gonna kill you. That’s not what I meant when I said I’m taking you out.”

She stared at him with a narrowed gaze. “Your sister is an accomplished assassin. You are an arsonist. You blow buildings up for a living.”

“And for fun,” Magnus added unhelpfully. Gemma’s glare grew fiercer.

“You’ve killed people, Magnus. Excuse me when I don’t trust you when you say you’re taking me out.”

She had a point, but he wasn’t about to admit that. “I got you that custom made Elie Saab dress. Would I have gotten that for you just so I could kill you?” He frowned.

“You’ve put me through enough Hell already that I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“And I’m trying to make up for that, baby. Please, one day? I have all these plans for you!”

With furrowed brows and wide eyes on her face, Magnus knew Gemma would need more than a few requests to come with him.

“I wasn’t lying the other day when I said you aren’t replaceable,” he began, stepping closer and gingerly taking her hand in his. “I can’t lose you in any way, because there’s no other Gemma Beaufort out there. Let me show you what you mean to me. Please?” His gentle voice was pleading, and Magnus made sure to make eye contact. Something had snapped in Gemma’s hard gaze, although she was trying to act hard still.

“Fine. But you only have one chance.”

An easy grin covered his face, and he kissed Gemma’s hand. “Thank you, baby. Now go put on that dress. I have a feeling it’ll fit perfectly.” He was just hoping it’d come off easily at the end of the night, too. Magnus wasn’t just emotionally attached to Gemma; the physical attachment was still going strong. And with someone as gorgeous as her, how could it not?

She shot him a glare as she turned back to her room, garment bag in hand. This was going to be an adventurous night.

////

“I still can’t believe you bought out the whole restaurant,” Gemma said with admiration. Magnus grinned at her cockily.

“Of course I did. You’re my princess and deserve to be treated as such.” He leaned back in his chair, enjoying the mixture of emotions playing out on Gemma’s face. Shock, confusion, something that said she was touched, some arrogance, and attraction, among others.

“I’m not your princess, you little maggot,” Gemma scoffed, pulling her gaze away from his dismissively.

Magnus grinned widely at her use of Emmy’s nickname. “You’re a princess to me,” he said, narrowly avoiding calling her his. She might not like that, even though that was how he thought of her. Not in a controlling way—no one could control Gemma—but in a caring way. He wasn’t going to be giving her up any time soon.

“And you’re still a maggot,” she sniffed.

“I love when you call me that.” Magnus reached across the small table in the center of the empty restaurant, taking one of her hands in his. They’d finished their meal and dessert. There wasn’t much left for him to give her. The flowers and chocolates had clearly warmed her icy heart. Something about how she was shocked he remembered those details. How could he not when she yammered on constantly about all of her favorite things?

“You love being called a maggot?” Gemma asked, chin lowered and an eyebrow raised. He offered her a shrug.

“Remind me why I’m here with you again?” she grumbled, pulling her hand away. He chuckled.

“Because I’m showering you with the love you deserve?” He reached into the inside of his suit jacket and pulled out a slim black velvet box. Gemma’s eyebrow raised at this again.

“What’s in there?”

“One of your last gifts. Open it,” Magnus said, setting it on the table in front of her. Gemma looked at him warily before opening the box. Her lips fell open in a gasp when realization hit her.

“Is this—“

“The limited edition necklace you tried to get Dani to steal for you last year? The one you’ve been obsessing over since before we met?” He chuckled softly. “It is.”

She stared at him in shock and admiration. “How did you get your hands on this? This is Princess Beatrice’s favorite necklace!”

“I know,” Magnus smirked. “But there’s one last thing.” He reached into the same inner coat pocket and pulled out a folded piece of printer paper with some lopsided hearts drawn on them. (Magnus was a scientist, not an artist.) “I made you this card.”

“I can tell you made it. It’s horrible looking.”

He scowled. “Just appreciate my gesture for once.”

“Oh, I appreciate all sorts of your gestures,” Gemma replied with a sexy smirk. His chances of her dress coming off easily at the end of the night were increasing. Good.

She opened the card, eyes reading the short message Magnus had memorized in his many drafts to perfect it.

‘I like chaos more than most people. You aren’t one of them.’

It was simple, and he definitely had debated whether to use like or love, but Magnus liked Gemma. He didn’t love her at this point. He loved chaos, but he liked her more than he loved chaos.

“Magnus,” Gemma breathed out. “I don’t really know how to say this—“

“That you like me? I already know that much, baby.”

She kicked his leg under the table. Magnus grunted.

“Yes, I like you, but there’s zero need to be so cocky!” The expression of pain slipped away from his face, replaced with a genuine smile.

“Then be my princess. Officially.”

Gemma smiled now, too, and Magnus was taken aback by the beauty in her eyes. So much spark, so much fire, so much life.

“One condition.” Her eyes hardened, making him nervous. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“What’s that?” His voice was slow.

“Whenever you have to leave me in a burning building for a distraction, you get me out on time. Every. Single. Time.”

Dang it. She was taking away his fun. “Okay.” He didn’t like it, but he would, because he liked Gemma more.

“Good. Now help me put this on?” She held up the necklace. He stood from his chair and walked to hers, gingerly clasping the necklace together around her neck and placing a kiss right above where the chain fell below her ear.

“What do you say we get out of here, princess?” he whispered, hands sliding down her waist to her hips to pull her closer.

Gemma’s voice was breathy. “Yes, please.”

#lovely larcenists

1 note · View note

6ad6ro · 4 years

Text

the warcraft 3 remake drama? made me remember things like no mans sky. and i STILL hold to the opinion that... if a game, esp one made or backed by a big company, releases as unfinished trash? not just "you expected more", but where it's obviously rushed and unfinished?

fucking yell. fucking bash it. most of all? return that shit. bc the fact is, companies will keep doing it if ppl keep buying it.

and i'm taking it a step further too? maybe don't... don't even buy it once the content is "patched in". because that's one of the biggest reasons companies aren't afraid to do this. bc even no mans sky? which maybe was one of the most hated games ever for it's scam of a release? it just... patched the content in? and was forgiven by so many...

you DO realise they still made ALL that money upfront. got ppl to buy it just to see what the fuss was about? many DIDN'T return it up front, or couldn't. then later it kept getting new sales bc the patch news? n suddenly it's one of the most downloaded games on steam...

this game that started out as more or less a scam. becomes one of the most bought games ever. do you not see the issues here?

i once had a person yell at me like "you have NO IDEA what rly went on and ur bein MEAN to the devs". like...

the truth is? the devs don't deserve the hate! why would they? many prob busted their ass and HATED what went down? but the developers aren't the reason to not support it. it's the publishers. it's the bosses.

this is corporate-funded art. and the ppl makin all the money? they only care about the money. and when u buy trash? you tell them trash is ok to sell to you. when you buy trash that was reformed later? you tell them it's ok to sell you trash that they fix a little bit later.

this is a bad situation for everyone who matters? but sadly the only way to make it better? is to hurt the publishers by not buying the fucking thing. ever. it hurts the devs too but it's the ONLY way to hurt the publisher? and that's the scariest part. the ppl setting these standards for trash are the publishers and the bosses, not the fuckin devs!

again I know it sounds mean, but think of it this way. if u went to a restaurant. and the staff was nice ir just typical polite. n ordered a STEAK i guess. and it came out n was just rotting meat covered in maggots? maybe don't yell at the staff but u sure can complain and not fuckin pay for it?you sure as hell should never come back? even if ppl say "oh it's better now".

and YES it sucks that if a place goes under that the staff need new jobs but WHAT THE FUCK? what kind if insanity is "well the staff deserves your support" like?!?! no!!! it's a place where they served you rotting meat! like just go to other restaurants that never do that!!!

bc if greedy rich assholes notice they can make money tricking ppl into buying rotting meat? they'll start churning out rotten meat cafes on every corner... and this?? is kinda the state gaming us in right now. bc too many ppl just ACTUALLY buy rotting meat. or are quick to forgive past dishes full of rot.

i mean...

ok buy what you want. u aren't obligated to try n fix bad gaming trends on your own. i still sometimes buy games that launched unfinished after they get better (final fantasy 13??) and there are always exceptions?

but HONESTLY. if you buy trash? they will start trying to sell you more and more trash. there's nothing you can do to stop all this trash from bein released. than to just STOP BUYING TRASH.

and no amount of my or your excuses or reasonings for buyin said trash??? will stop these companies from trying to profit off of trash. i'm sorry but unless we're all able to reform capitalism? or somehow create realistic quality standards for entertainment (good luck bc art is subjective)? this is the only way.

buy it less. or don't buy it at all.

#long

3 notes · View notes

shadowsfiguresfigments-blog · 6 years

Text

A good place to die Chapter 3

Warning: harsh language, physical abuse

A call in the morning woke me up. It was a nurse from the local hospital, informing me that Mr. Shanks had fallen down the stairs and fractured his legs multiple times. He had my number with him, and no living relatives, so they contacted me and informed me he wished “I would stay the fuck away from the register, if I wanted to keep my job”. I took that as a subtle hint that I was to take a day off.

Auntie had already prepared breakfast and left early for the morning shift at the restaurant, so I left her a scribbled note informing her that I was planning a hike into the barrens – I left out the Penny part. I didn’t bother packing a flashlight, since I was pretty sure I would find my way back to my partner in crime.

School dragged even more than usual – I had my geography teacher twice because our history teacher had come down with influenza. During the break Yaneesha and her girls tripped me, resulting in a bloody nose on my part, and threw my food tray across the cafeteria, so I decided to skip lunch – once again. Last class would be P.E., and my aunt had made sure I didn’t have to attend. She thought that my scars might make the other kids bully me even more. I didn’t complain, not that I wouldn’t be bullied regardless, but I would be able to leave earlier and at least once a weak the girl gang wouldn’t have a chance to mug me after school. However, they did manage to trip me once more, and by the time I got on my bike my nose felt so swollen I had to breathe through my mouth. Since ‘mouth-breather’ was their favorite insult they were quite content with their work.

I didn’t mind.

I rushed along the streets, a shadow of the excitement of yesterday building in my chest. As I got to the kissing bridge I swerved right to go downhill into the barrens. Wind rushed through my hair, and my bike sped up considerably. I pulled the brakes and nothing happened.

I had forgotten to check my bike for manipulation.

I tried my best to avoid the trees and bushes while keeping the direction I wanted to go in, but then a root stuck out from the ground and I couldn’t avoid it. My bike jumped over it, swerved, and I lost both my balance and my grip on the bike. For a brief moment it almost felt like flying, until I crashed into the next tree and blacked out.

When I came back from the soothing darkness, my body felt like one big bruise. I was aching all over, but at least I was lying right next to the sewer entrance. I picked myself back up, which took some minutes because of a sudden surge of nausea, and stumbled into the tunnel.

It was a little easier to see during this time of the day, because light shone through the openings in the ceiling. But I was only able to move slowly, and it took forever to reach the cistern. When I entered, Pennywise wasn’t alone in there.

He had just prepared himself for the meal – the kid was so scared it wasn’t able to move and basically in a daze – almost floating – when he heard a noise. His alien head shot up, and the inner jaws slid back into the outer jaws. And there she came, tumbling out of the tunnel, moving in a slow, wonky fashion. She waved at him, and then looked at the kid.

He didn’t know why, but it felt wrong to feed in front of her. He was somewhat sure she wouldn’t be scared or creeped out, which made it all the more wrong. Reluctantly he let go of the kid and switched back into his clown form. “Go”, he hissed at the child, “And if you ever come back I’ll tear of your skin bit by bit and feed it to you before I feed on your bare flesh.” The child sobbed and wailed, and quickly disappeared into the tunnel.

She just looked at him unmoved, with her dead eyes, while blood was spurting from her nose, a gash on her forehead and several cuts on her arms and legs. Her wheezy breathing filled the cistern and echoed of the walls. “Sorry for interrupting”, she said at last, wobbling slowly on her legs. She started to make her way to the washing machine and he closed in on her. He had spent the night planning his next move, and turned into a disfigured human form, covered with oozing sores and maggots, rotten teeth and stinking breath and began to suck on her wounds. A maggot wiggled from his eye and fell unto her cut. She didn’t flinch.

Of course not.

He let go, spitting out the mouthful of stale blood and changed into Freddy, spreading his claws towards her. Nothing.

He tried Jason, the mummy, Nosferatu and other blood-suckers (none of that shiny sparkling vampire shit, the old, scary ones), wolf man, Frankenstein, zombies, several other slasher killers and creatures. He tried every horror creature that had ever been invented, switching between them so fast he almost appeared to be a blur. He snarled, he growled and howled, he altered his smell from rotting flesh to the musk of predatory animals. He drooled over her, jumped on her, towered over her.

Nothing.

When he transformed into a green-eyed child with brown, dirty hair and slashes on her face, the other girl actually smiled ever so slightly.

“Oh, I like the exorcist”, she proclaimed.

He snarled angrily at her, shifting back to Pennywise. He felt humiliated. Searching for inspiration, he let his gaze wander through his lair, when he felt her hand on his. Whipping around, he hissed at her, but she actually cracked a big smile – probably the first one in her life since the day she held that red balloon. Her mouth was a little too big for her small face, and when she smiled like that, it almost looked as if her face would split into two parts. Just like his looked when he started feeding.

“I’m sorry. It’s just… like you are my personal 5D horror theatre. I don’t mean to insult you. I WANT this to work, believe me.”

She tried to breathe through her mangled nose and winced. He turned into the girl on her mind, and the smile disappeared. But it wasn’t replaced with fear, just the same dead-eyed, bored look she always seemed to wear.

For the first time in his existence, Pennywise was completely and utterly puzzled.

We fell into a weird routine. Mr. Shanks wouldn’t leave the hospital for a while, and there was nothing much to do at the bookshop, so I spend most of my time down in the sewer. After the first couple of days I brought reading material along, because I realized how much power Pennywise was spending on all his shape-shifting. Whatever had hurt him all those years ago, he still hadn’t properly recovered from the injury. I felt his pride was hurt because I wouldn’t scare, but he took it as a challenge. So I would sit on my spot on the washing machine, nestled into the old rags, and read whatever I had brought along for the day, while he would try to come up with something new to scare me, testing my blood afterwards and declaring it to be ‘the worst thing ever’.

I’d tell him of the movies the monster he had turned into where featured in, of the books I read, and he would be entirely uninterested. Occasionally he would bite me, only to let go a nanosecond after because of the unbearable taste.

After a while the scare attempts became less frequent (I suspected he ran out of ideas), and so I started reading some of my novels to him. Currently I was revisiting Hannibal Lecter, and I had just come to the part where he would flee his cage in ‘The silence of the lambs’. I could almost hear the Goldbach variations playing in the back of my mind, as Hannibal inflicted bloody murder upon the two unsuspecting guards, as a shadow crept over the pages of my book and I was unable to read any further. Pennywise stood in front of me, blocking the little light that came in from above.

“Why are you still coming here?”, he asked inquisitively.

I shrugged.

“It’s better to hang out here than anywhere else. Nobody bothers me. And maybe you’ll eat me one day anyhow.”

His eyes turned yellow, which meant I had upset him, I figured.

“I don’t know how.”

His whisper was barely audible.

“Excuse me?”

“You are not afraid of anything. Not even death.”

“So… You mean you can’t kill me?”

Pennywise started fidgeting.

“I have to.”

I didn’t understand, but it didn’t bug me.

He started murmuring now, more to himself than to me.

“That is dangerous. Girls who don’t fear are dangerous. She might not even be human. Maybe the turtle sent her. Better off finishing her now, better make a clean slate.”

I don’t pretend to even remotely understand what that was all about, but I suspected it might be related to the state he was in when I first encountered him. If he finally was set on killing me, all the better for me. Life outside the sewers had been such a drag lately that I was sorely tempted to give suicide another try, though I had an impressive failing record piled up. And I wasn’t too keen on another trip to the mental institution. I set my book aside and slid from the washing machine.

“Go on, then.” I stood right in front of him. “Do it.”

He glanced at me with the weirdest look in his eyes, then his hand shot up and closed around my throat. I started gagging as he squeezed the air out of me. My body struggled to keep breathing, but my mind was already set on the end. Relief washed through me, as I pictured myself going to sleep forever. My hands stopped flailing, as my vision began to go dark around the edges. I was happy. I reached out to touch the clowns face in front of me, and mouthed “thank you”.

Then everything faded.

#pennywise #pennywise fanfiction

14 notes · View notes