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#Yo Camden
heung-mins · 6 months
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i’m going to london in a couple of weeks please hmu if u have any secret recommendations ^_^
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muneca-lemon-steppa · 4 months
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Hiya Mo! Congrats on such an amazing achievement! If it's not too much trouble, may I request something for Alfie Solomons using the following prompts please?
"Can you please just shut up for once?" + “you fell asleep in my arms. it was kind of adorable.”
Thank you (no pressure though)! And congrats again ♥️♥️
Hi my darling V!! This was so much fun to write! I hope you enjoy it my love!!!
100 Follower Celebration:
Evenings at Home
Alfie Solomons x Reader, Warnings: Language
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Some people may think that a regular routine is something to be avoided. That the repetitive rhythm of life is synonymous to the shackles of a boring life which must broken as soon as it is noticed. But this isn't how you and Alfie saw your evenings together much less your life together.
The life as the King of Camden brought too many uncertainties. The business moved far too quickly in various directions, and the threats on Alfie's life were too numerous and too far reaching. The life of the King of Camden was anything but normal and ordinary and routine. Which is why Alfie craved and yearned for normalcy in his private life, and why he clung to your with all 10 of his bejewled fingers. You brought a sense of peace to his life. You brought an outlet where Alfie wasn't the Mad Baker, a ferocious man to be feared. With you he could simply be your husband. With you he could simply be Alfie. With you he could simply be a man coming home to his spouse and his dog after a day at the office. The tranquility and predictability of a warm home and loving kisses did more in mending his soul than any amount of riches and power and drink could ever do in a thousand years.
It was so that at 6pm on the dot that Alfie shut down the office and made his way to you, ensuring that no one would interrrupt any precious time with you. Dinner would be set, a fire would be going, and only candles would be lit to warm Alfie's bones and spirit. After dinner Alfie would drag you to the sitting room, with the radio softly humming in the corner, and your angelic voice reading from a book you both were working through. Alfie allowed himself the luxury of laying his head across your soft thighs, interrupting every so often to chastise the characters in the novel for being stupid.
This evening's reading was Wurthering Heights, a torrid and haunting love affair that expanded through the decades destroying the broken soul of a hardened man. The burning words on the page took your breath away, and you found yourself lost in the poetic and scorching story. Alfie however was lost in the way you breath hitched, and the dreamy way your voice wove the images into an ornate tapestry before his eyes. The voice of his angel and the feelings of your cool fingers through his soft thick hair was gently sending him off into a sweet sleep.
It wasn't until you heard the rumbling snores of your beloved below you did you realize that Alfie had actually fallen asleep in your lap. You smile softly, biting your lip to keep yourself from chuckling. He hates falling asleep in front of you like this. He would much rather kiss you to sleep in bed It's my duty as a husband sweet. The man doesn't fall asleep before his sweet heart and before he gives her a proper evening of affection.
But oh how you cherished these moments. You worried about him. Constantly. You wished he didn't have so much on his shoulders and on his brow. In the waking hours you did whatever you could to make his home sweet and comfortable and easy, anything to help alleviate the stress. But in sleep you could see the pay off. The softness of his face. The firm set of his mouth relaxed as melodic snores fall out of his lips. Those long lashes carressing his scarred cheek. You softly pet and carded your fingers through his hair and his beard, taking in his beautiful features. This in of itself was a treasure. No one else got to see him like this. No one else got to see Alfie Solomons as you did.
All too suddenly Alfie started awake, and you cursed yourself inwardly for possibly awaking him. With a quick inhale Alfie stuttered, "What happened? Did I fall asleep on ya?"
You bit your cheek, attempting to settle him back down in your lap, "Mmhmm. You fell asleep in my arms. It was kind of adorable really."
Alfie drug himself off your lap, "Adorable? Nah nah fuck no. Men are not adorable. Solomons are not adorable they are ferocious and and... handsome!"
You laughed at the sudden reddening of his cheeks. "While all that is true my love, the fact remains that it was sweet! You're very sweet in sleep."
Like a pouting child Alfie strongly disagreed, "You are out of line. Letting me fall asleep like that. Betrayer. What do I always say? You sleep first, then me. I'm the man yeah? I kiss your pretty head stupid and I fall asleep second. Now look at yeah. Completely changing the order of things. I mean is nothing sacred anymore? Next you'll want to run the rum house too eh?"
His rambling and ranting sent you into a fit of laughter. Because truly no one could be more ridiculous and ludicrous than your husband. As he was still raving you crawled into his lap, wrapping your arms around his heated neck, "Can you please just shut up for once?"
You pressed your lips to his, immediately silencing him, and feeling his strong and thick arms wrap around you, bringing you closer against his chest. Only when your body was begging for air did you pull away, seeing Alfie's eyes closed and chasing you for your lips again. You hummed in pleasure, resting your hand on his cheek again. Alfie's eyes opened to reveal all the softness and love in the world. All yours. He patted your thigh before instructing, "Why don't you head upstairs for me sweet? I'll clean up and meet you in the bedroom?"
With a shy smile you nodded, kissing his nose to seal your deal. He scoffed and shook his head, as if shaking off the kiss. You merely chuckled, skipping upstairs, excited to spend another evening in peaceful paradise with your love.
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The Dutchess of Camden
Hobie wants to take Diane to her first punk show. And she has just the outfit. (a.k.a How Diane got her punk battlejacket - aka I saw this photo of Fran Fine and laughed so hard.)
DiscoPunk - DiscoSpider!Diane x Hobie Brown - PURE FLUFF. More fluff than a cappucino with extra foam. FLUFFY
Also this post was largely inspired by @spidey-bie and their post about Ansi & Hobie!!
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Diane isn't punk.
With chiffon skirts and silk shirts and glittery nails and light up roller-wheels - if anything, she was the farthest thing from it. But that never stopped her, did it?
Without a doubt, she was still Hobie's #1 fan.
Hobie had only known Diane a couple of weeks - and it was only four months ago that he'd met her that in that darkened club, a Daiquiri on her lips and a joint at her fingertips.
And since then, the party hadn't stopped.
Hobie didn't have an explanation for it - but for some reason, Diane seemed to like him. If anything, she seemed to adore him. And that in itself wasn't a rarity -
She just wasn't afraid to show it.
Out of a room full of people, she'd be the one to approach him first. In a cafeteria full of tables, she was the one to ask if she could sit at his, just because 'y'all seem like you're having fun'.
And regardless of what anyone had to say about it, to Hobie - that only added to the appeal. Because Diane said it all the time -
'Closed mouths don't get fed - Ain't that right?'
Over the weeks, he'd gotten used to her face, front row at SpiderBand's every show. He'd gotten use to her laugh, and the way she'd smile every time he told a joke - no matter how unoriginal. How he could make her laugh without fail.
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He'd gotten use to the way he felt when he knew she was there, safe somewhere nearby.
Like praying for someone to turn up to school that day, and then hearing that they did.
And did having her on his arm, his voice in her ear, an inside joke between the two of them - mean them anything?
Hobie didn't know. And he didn't care.
It didn't matter what Diane being at his side made her - as long as she wasn't going anywhere.
And so he'd bring her along for the ride, as long as she'd let him.
Hobie and Diane had known weeks, and she was never shy to invite herself, asking for permission to tag along any place that sounded funky enough for her to find it far out.
And he was never one to tell her 'No'.
But there was one place she'd yet to go - and that was 138.
"Oi, I'm taking you to a rock show tonight. It's in 138, so try to blend in, alright?"
"Of course!" she says. "I've been waiting for this! I have just the outfit."
And then she turns up in this.
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Diane looks at him and goes "What'd I tell ya!"
She's so proud of herself. She thinks she's killing it. She brought that outfit the month she met him and she's been waiting for this moment.
She's like -
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Hobie has to cover his face. Because if he looks at her - he's gonna start laughing. Cause what iN THE HELL-
Hobie looks at her like -
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"Di, where'd you get that?"
She's like "Malala (Spider-UK). It's SO CUTE right. I look all posh!"
Hobie is like "You look like a Spice Girl. You look like Scary Spice and Ginger Spice had a baby."
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Diane takes a moment to assess the situation. She reads his body language. And of course she's like "I feel very complimented but your tone of voice is saying otherwise, Hobart."
Cause what do you mean??? she absolutely understood the assignment!!!
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Hobie takes a moment. He loves the enthusiasm, but still, he considers a way to break it to her softly, before telling her "Yo, me and my mates be setting that flag on fire-"
"Good cause it looks fire on ME."
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And.. She's not lying. So what's the problem?!?
Hobie doesn't have one. And it'll be a frigid day in hell before he tells Diane to change - for any reason, clothes or otherwise.
He asks her if she'd dead set on wearing it, and she's goes "What- do you think the skirt is too tight to dance in? I can. Don't worry, I checked."
If she's going to have a good time, that's all he cares about. And Hobie just smiles, telling her if that's the case then the outfit is bloody perfect.
Because somehow Diane finding the most perfectly coordinated outfit regardless of crowd, vibe, occasion, or time of day, seemed so entirely her.
Not faking it for him in ripped fishnets or studded clothes. Turning up in her perfect black stockings and the most painfully British outfit she could find.
And it wasn't until she pointed to him, that he understood why. "I wanted to match - you know, your pin." she says, pressing a manicured nail to his lapel. "It's my favorite one."
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To him, the outfit is perfect. Funny as hell, but perfect.
"Brilliant taste you have." "Couldn't you tell from my taste in boys?"
The whole 'blending in' thing went out the window. But the outfit is a hit.
People couldn't help but notice the 6 foot girl who wore stilettos and a Union Jack to the function. A regular in the circuit, Hobie couldn't help but stay by her side - watching amused as she looked around the shitty backalley venue like it was a palace.
It was so different from the discos.
Diane couldn't help but marvel at how 'Hobie' the world seemed. "You're still the coolest thing here, though." She tells him over and over.
Hobie makes sure to keep an arm over her shoulder, not out of possessiveness, but the fact that Diane was liable to drifting off, eyes dazzled at how cool and punk and textured and rough everything seemed, how vibrant people were.
And Hobie loved it.
He wants her to love it, to enjoy herself. To smile and laugh and go on and on about how funky everything was. "But like - in a you way."
He wanted her to have a good time, but Hobie knew eventually, someone would say something.
And it came with a laugh.
"Christ, that's gotta be the funniest thing I've seen tonight." A guy wearing red liberty spikes said, and Hobie recognized him as Ned, a guitarist in some straight edge band.
And the girl at his side, Betty, grinned as she laughed along.
And Hobie wondered if he should scare them off, or give Diane a chance to bite their heads off first. Until Betty said-
"Fuck. I wish I'd thought of that."
"Huh?" Diane asked pointedly, seemingly more annoyed at the distribution of her Hobie-induced haze than anything else.
"Ain't that a giant 'fuck you' to the fascists - a black chick wearing their 'heritage' like it's the new spring collection - I'd pay to see the first skinhead that had a butchers at you," Betty said and she was a black girl herself, hair in neat boxbraids. "They'd be fucking fuming."
Diane side-eyed Hobie for a translation, and Hobie smirked, leaning in closer to her ear. "That's a good thing," he assured her, voice teeming with pride as he gave her shoulder a squeeze.
Because pissing off skinheads was very much a compliment.
Diane raised her eyebrows, because she surely couldn't tell. But, if Hobie said it, she was willing to take his word on it.
"Thank you..?" She chuckled, a hand on Hobie's arm. "Sorry, I ain't that good at speaking British. Hobie usually translates for me - Thank God he speaks American or I'd be so lost -"
"And she's American - that's fucking hilarious. No wonder she doesn't give a fuck." Ned said, grinning, pointing to her top.
And finally, Diane looked down - as if she'd just noticed what they meant.
"The flag?" She questioned, pouting her lips in confusion. "Am I supposed to give a fuck about the flag?"
"You aren't." Betty said. "That's what's so punk about it."
Her face lit up. Diane didn't speak British, but that she understood.
And she had to turn her face into Hobie's shoulder to not squeal. They said her perfect outfit was punk!
They said she was Punk!
Hobie stiffled his laughter, pulling Diane closer as he reached up to ruffle her perfectly curled hair.
Diane bit back her euphoria as she composed herself, flattered beyond belief. And to the pair in front of her, Diane said -
"Why, thank you!" mimicking a curtsey, head bowed and knees bent.
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The pair burst out laughing.
And then, they did the same, playing along.
"Pleasure is ours, Your Majesty.~" Betty snickered, nudging Ned to get him to play along, and the dark-skinned boy did the same. "And to whom do we owe the honor?" he asked.
"Diane." Hobie said, squeezing her at the waist for a moment, and before she could tell them otherwise, Hobie said. "Call her Dutchess, yeah?"
Betty held back a snort. "Dutchess - She the Dutchess of Camden then?"
"Brilliant, you two." Ned said. "Leave it to Hobie to find a cheeky one."
Diane was glowing in his arms.
"The Duchess of Camden." Hobie said, a smirk coming to his lips. He adored the sound of it. "That she is. A national treasure, this one." And he believed it.
Hobie couldn't help but drink in the joy on Diane's face.
The name was so prestigious sounding - glamourous even - and Diane had no idea what the hell a Dutchess was, but she damn sure knew what royalty meant.
But nothing could compare to Hobie's words.
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She pressed her hands to her cheeks, drinking in the flattery. And when she looked at Hobie her eyes were elated, dazzled to share the moment with him.
"Oh my, What a Prince Charming!" Diane laughed, wrapping her arms around Hobie. Who knew people in his universe would be just as cool, as interesting, as kind?
Who knew that not caring or thinking about British culture at all - not trying to make a statement, or say much of anything at all, could be punk? Hobie didn't.
Somehow, though, Diane managed to work miracles.
"Well, Dutchess," Ned said. "I take it you and Prince Charming here fancy a cordial invitation to the pub after this?"
Diane's jaw nearly dropped. "A Pub, like a Tavern?" And she couldn't imagine anything more British than a tavern. "Like the kind that serves pints? Just say the word and I'll call my horse-drawn carriage!"
Dutchess rode carriages, right? Who else would?
Betty shook her head, a grin on her lips. "Enjoy the show, Your Highness." she said, lacing her fingers with Ned's before weaving them back into the crowd.
For a second, Diane didn't say anything - cheeks glowing with the smile she was fighting back. Hobie wished he could make her feel that way forever.
"Well Punk royalty, how do you feel?" he asked, his voice low enough just for her to hear.
"You know," Diane said, turning to look at him, and slowly she laced her arms around his neck. "With this dimension time travel stuff - it's like you're the Punk Doctor Who, and I'm your companion, right? You know that British show, Doctor Who? The watch is like our Tardis-"
"Diane," Hobie said. "Never change."
__________________________
Hobie didn't know what this made him, but he didn't care.
He'd take Diane any place she'd follow. Any place she'd follow, he'd want her there.
Even here, on the curb of a street somewhere in London. Outside of a 24-hour Chip Shop at 3am.
Diane had followed him to 138 - and in return he'd followed her to a punk show. And then to an afterparty, and then to a pub, and then another.
And more and more people came over, to laugh and talk, to invite her into the community. And bit by her bit, her 'perfect' outfit had gained color.
A pin passed on from a friend, a patch someone would pull off their jacket, fishing for bobby pins to pin it to hers. A clover patch to match his pin, an A sprawled across the front like The Scarlet Letter.
Hobie couldn't describe the way Diane looked at him every time, the way she squeezed his hand and didn't let go. But that didn't matter. He just wanted her to do it more and more.
By stop two, she was complaining about her feet. But come 20 minutes, without fail - there she was, hanging on his sleeve. Asking him to leave so they could go someplace more her speed, 'hipper to the groove'.
And he'd always say 'Yes'. There wasn't a moment of it that he regretted.
He'd follow her anywhere, because he knew she'd do the same. And now, sitting on the curb on some random street in East London, Diane had the beginnings of her own battle jacket.
And a backpatch to match his, with her own addition:
'Punk's Not Dead.' 'He's back at my place.'
Hobie popped open the box of takeout, steam escaping as he lifted the flaps on the fish & chips. Beside him, Diane rolled her eyes in ecstasy at just the smell of it, throwing her head back in excitement.
Needless to say, Diane was plastered.
"You spoil me." she squealed leaning in closer to gaze at the sacred food that sat in Hobie's lap, her arm looped with his as the smell of fresh battered fish rose from the box.
Hobie lifted up a bit of fish, holding it out to Diane. "You ever tried this? Can't say you've been to London until you have. Like going to New York and leaving without the pizza." he smirked, eager to see her reaction - that look in her eyes.
Diane leaned forward, taking a bite of the fish without even taking it from his hand - too drunk to care.
"I don't know if it's because I'm drunk, or because I'm with you - but British food is so good." she snickered, stealing a chip from the box.
Carefully, she sniffed it.
"It has vinegar." he told her, watching as Diane nodded seriously, before pointing the chip at the box. "And that?" she asked.
"Mushy peas."
"Mushed peas?" Diane said, part bewildered, but mostly disgusted. "Mushed peas - is that what you said?"
Hobie snickered. "You ain't gotta eat them. I'll eat them if you don't want to-"
"You're gonna eat them?!" Diane demanded, jaw agape. "I was just complimenting you're national cuisine and now you're offering me pea sludge?" she laughed, almost in disbelief.
"You ain't gotta eat the pea sludge, Dutchess. Dump it in the harbor if you wanna kick off. That's what you all do, yeah?"
Now Diane's expression turned to shock. "Don't compare me to a Bostoner! As a New Yorker, I take offense to that." she said, stealing another chip. "You don't see me calling you a Birmingham-nite or whatever."
"Brummie -" Hobie corrected. "Surprised you know about them."
"I don't." Diane assured him. "I just know they exist."
Hobie grinned, taking a bite of fish, as for once - London seemed quiet around them.
No loud music. No crowd, or laughter, no anything. Just them. And Hobie realized that this was the first time they'd been alone - since that night they'd met, four months ago.
And he still felt the same as he did back then - in the alleyway behind the club, bathed in neon lights.
He had slipped into her world to find her - and now here she was, slipping in to his. And here, now, with her post-show hair, and smudged red lips, and blurred eye-liner. In her spray-painted jacket, and a hangover around the corner - he wouldn't have it any other way.
"Hobie -" Diane asked, eyes far away. "Can I ask you something?"
"You just did." he snickered, simply because he knew it would get her attention. Diane grinned, even despite herself, and she shoved his shoulder.
But he could tell, whatever it was - she meant it. "Anything." he said.
"Why do you.. let me follow you around?" she asked, and even to her, the words felt clumsy, clouded by nerves and 4 pints of beer.
"I mean - Why do you put up with it?" she asked, voice barely at whisper. And for the first time, it was like she couldn't look at him. And yet he couldn't look away.
"With what everyone says. I mean - I know that you hear it. And..I'm not subtle about it. But you never complain. Or tell me to go away. I guess at a certain point, a part of me thought that maybe you just...didn't want to hurt my feelings, I guess."
Diane said, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.
"But then, you invited me here. And you've been so kind to me all night. Even though I'm just some chick who shows up to your shows. And, I don't know how to thank you, or why you do it." she said, voice barely a whisper.
"Because I know that you care. Cause I can tell you do." Hobie said. "And I can tell you don't want nothing of me. You aren't asking me for romance or anything. We can just be together. Wherever. And that's enough. More than enough." Hobie said, and to him, the answer came easy. Now that it was her who was asking.
And maybe that was it. "We're enough for each other."
And she was more than enough for him. More than enough for him to watch to keep her around, and then some.
Diane's expression softened, the lump in her throat growing. "Thank you," she said. "For never making me feel like I was annoying. Or like I wasn't worth your time."
For making her feel like she was enough, always.
"You are worth my time, Daiquiri." Hobie said, and he reached up to brush a stray curl from Diane's face. "Don't want you to ever think otherwise. I don't know why you do it - what I did to deserve it.
But it doesn't matter. I ain't letting you get rid of me now."
Beside him, Diane grinned, hanging her head in bashfulness.
"I'd kiss your cheek right now, if I didn't smell of fish and vinegar right now." she told him, and instead, so instead she pressed a kiss to her fingers, before smooshing it in his face.
Hobie snorted, grabbing her arm and pulling her closer. Pressing kisses to her forehead, even as she faked a grimace. Because he didn't care about fish or vinegar or anything else. Just her.
Diane laughed, shoving away from him just as Hobie asked "And what about you?"
"What about me?" "Why do you do it?" he asked. "I mean, could have any bloke on any Earth. But you choose me."
And he would never understand it, but he would always be grateful.
For a moment, Diane had to think about it - and Hobie wondered if she ever questioned it herself. Or if she just did what made her happy, and worried about any bridge when she came to it.
Diane shrugged a bit, stealing another chip as she thought, eyes lidded and voice quiet under the haze of alcohol.
"I dunno. You make me feel safe, I guess." She said, and maybe it was that simple. Because saying it felt right.
"I don't have to worry - about you laughing at me, or judging me, slutshaming me. You don't think I'm stupid, or annoying. I mean, you let me wear this outfit, you made me feel good about it. So I trust you."
Because she could tell he cared too.
Hobie grinned, leaning forward to brush his nose against hers, their own form of kiss. "And that's enough for you to treat me as good as you do?"
"I mean, we met when I was shitfaced drunk." Diane said, well aware she was probably shitfaced right now. "In a club, basically throwing myself at you - and you somehow got me home and into bed." And she snickered at the memory alone. "You even put my bonnet on me."
"You were there the first time I saw the Sun. Or a sunset. I guess I feel like if you're there, it'll be okay. Or like, super far out - groovy, psychedelic, absolutely dynamite!"
She laughed. "Like tonight. Thanks for tonight, Hobie."
"Anything for you, Dutchess." he told her.
"Look at you, treating me like Queen Eliza." "Elizabeth." "Does it matter?"
Did it matter what they were?
"Not at all."
Because they were enough.
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_-_-_-_-_-_
"Are you actually going to eat the pea sludge?" "What, is that a crime, your highness?" "No, but it should be."
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Hobie will keep Diane ignorant about British culture, if it's the last thing he does. He finds it really, really funny.
And that's the story of how Diane got her punk jacket, why Hobie calls her 'Dutchess', and why they stick with each other through everything. UUHHHH N-E-WAY I think this might be like my first DiscoPunk fic holymotherof!!!!! I LOVE THEM. I LOVE THEM. I LOVE THEM I LOVE THEM. Let your OCs be loved. If you read this far thank you so much! It genuinely means a lot, so thank you for your time! In an act of gratitude here is Hobie
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(thats them im gonna go cry)
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zablife · 1 year
Text
Seemingly Incurable Sadness (Part 2)
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Part 1
Alfie Solomons x fiance reader
Summary: Two years after you wandered into a Camden pub and decided to break off your engagement to Tommy Shelby, you’re planning a wedding to the handsome bartender who stole your heart, Alfie Solomons. There are no reservations about your plans this time around, but that doesn’t mean your ex-fiance will let you go so easily. 
Author’s Note: Part 1 was so popular, I decided to write a second part. This is also based on an old request by @wandawiccan60.
Warnings: language, controlling behavior
“For fuck’s sake! Why?” Polly called after Tommy.  He was asking a lot of her to get those permits pulled and for what? To delay a few contractors? She didn’t understand and Tommy wasn’t willing to give her any details. He was already half way to the door before he stopped with a jerk, pulling the cigarette from his mouth.
“Because we fucking can!” Tommy shouted his irrational reply over his shoulder. He sounded like a spoiled child. Frances warned her he hadn’t been sleeping, but she hadn’t realized he was this bad. He must be determined to crush Alfie, she thought. Nevermind the fact that Solomons’ new club, Lethe, wasn’t in conflict with any of the Shelby’s properties in London.
“Oi, what’s all the shouting about?” Arthur asked, trudging inside and slinging his cap on the table. He poured a cup of tea and took a sip, glancing between Polly and Tommy as he waited for one of them to answer. When it became clear they didn’t want to discuss it, he dug into his pocket and wordlessly slid a newspaper article across the table. Polly skimmed the engagement announcement briefly as Tommy let out a low growl and rolled his eyes at Arthur.
“Another one, eh? You know your wife’s been leaving a fucking trail of these?” he huffed as he stamped out his cigarette forcefully in the ashtray. It was obvious Linda had sent it on the off chance Tommy had missed the one she placed on his desk this morning. It was her passive aggressive way of airing her grievance over Tommy’s neglect of the company since your departure and the considerable downturn in profits. 
“Yes, thank you, Arthur. Perhaps your wife should consider a hobby in scrapbooking since she likes making clippings so much,” Polly quipped. She shoved the article into her pocket, suddenly understanding the reason behind Tommy’s childish demands. The article listed Lethe as the location of your wedding celebration. Despite it’s absurdity, Polly recognized Tommy’s attempt to delay the opening as his only recourse in keeping you from marrying Alfie.
She inhaled a deep breath before speaking the words she knew would be difficult for Tommy to hear. “It wasn’t meant to be, love. You have to let her go,” she implored with quiet determination. She rose from her chair and walked to where Tommy stood, staring out the window in a trance. Although he didn’t reply, she could tell by his tightly clenched jaw he still had revenge on his mind. Truthfully, he hadn’t heard Polly’s words or felt her hand on his shoulder as he slipped into a memory he revisited far too often.
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Two years ago he’d listened to your voice calmly explain why you couldn’t marry him. He heard your words, but refused to accept the reason or the ring in return. Tommy felt certain you’d have a change of heart. After all, who could provide a lifestyle on par with the one he had provided during your courtship? Anything you desired was made available day or night.
“You’d give up everything I have to offer?” he asked with raised eyebrows, as you pushed the ring box across the table. You noted how he didn’t look you in the eye the way Alfie did though. Tommy had a way of looking right through you with those crystal blue eyes, waiting to hear what he wanted to hear rather than the truth. 
“I don’t think I want the life you’re offering anymore,” you answered. He had to know the toll his political career had taken on your relationship. “Even when you’re home, you’re not really there, Tommy. You have to admit we’ve grown apart.”
Tommy shook his head in disbelief. “I have obligations in Parliament. You knew how it would be,” he reminded you coldly. “I need someone who understands my job, y/n,” he said in a tone that reminded you of an employer instead of a loving fiance. It was clear he saw nothing wrong with the way he’d been treating you and had no intention of changing despite your obvious discontent.
It was at this impasse you decided to leave him, scoffing at his arrogance. “I’m sorry I can’t be the trophy wife you wanted then, Tommy,” you replied as you gathered your coat and purse.
He had only proved your point and you walked away knowing you’d made the right decision. Although you’d only known Alfie a short time, you could already see the differences between the two men. One was guided by his heart, another by ambition. The choice wasn’t difficult to make. You were now free to pursue your feelings for the handsome bartender who had urged you to listen to your instincts.
In typical fashion, Tommy hadn’t taken you seriously, deluding himself into believing you’d return one day. However, the announcement in the paper had finally proven him wrong. You were moving on with someone new and not just anyone, his sworn enemy. There was no way he was going to let that stand no matter what Polly thought of his tactics.
————————————————————-
With Cyril trotting happily by his side, Alfie made his way inside the Rum House before opening one morning. He looked through a stack of mail, whistling as he wound his way through the darkened pub toward the office where he knew you’d be sorting paperwork. As soon as he reached the doorway, Alfie could tell something was wrong by your defeated looking posture and worried expression.
Dropping the mail on the desk, he came closer, but you didn’t move to kiss him hello as usual. Alfie knitted his brow in concern stating, “You’re in a right two and eight, dove.” Settling his large hands at your hips, he pulled your back into his chest and dropped his head to the crook of your hunched shoulder, looking down at the paper you had clutched in your hand. “What’s this then?” 
“It says our permits have been delayed,” you said still reeling from the shock. “We can’t possibly open Lethe in time for the wedding,” you said sadly, holding the document out for him to examine. 
Alfie released a heavy sigh as he mumbled into your hair, “Did Tommy have anything to do with this?” 
You nodded slowly, realizing there wasn’t a thing Tommy didn’t have influence over. “Yea, probably,” you admitted.
Straightening to his full height and locking his arms around you tightly, Alfie placed a kiss to the top of your head and swayed you back and forth gently. “I told you he’d see the paper, dove,” he reminded you. He’d suggested a much smaller affair, but you had somehow convinced him to rejoin the land of the living with a big announcement. 
“I didn’t want to hide our engagement,” you said turning in his arms to face him. Cupping his cheeks in your hands and scratching at his beard you added, “I love you and I want everyone to know it.” The corners of his mouth drew up in a shy smile that melted your heart. Despite his outgoing personality, your praise still made him self conscious and you adored his humility, although it never lasted long.
As if on cue Alfie added, “Nah, don’t blame you for staking a claim, pet. Handsome bloke like me could’ve been stolen right out from under ya.” You giggled at his remark before turning your attention back to the matter at hand. 
“I may have landed the most eligible bachelor in London, but what’ll I do if I can’t marry him the way I planned?” you asked, gesturing toward the letter left on the desk. 
Alfie’s face suddenly brightened and you cocked your head wondering what he was thinking. “Let’s go to the registry office today,” he suggested, brushing his nose against yours softly. 
“Now? Wh-what about work?,” you stammered, surprised by his spontaneity. 
“We’ll close the pub. Punters can go a day without us,” he proclaimed, leaning down for a kiss.
You mumbled against his lips, “But you don’t have a suit yet. I don’t have flowers. We don’t have any witnesses,” you protested, thinking only of logistics. Cyril jumped between you just then, pawing at your elbow and Alfie looked down at him with a grin. “Well…we’ve got him,” he shrugged.
“Someone other than the dog, Alf!” you laughed as you smacked his chest playfully.
He scratched his beard as he thought for a moment then declared, “Right, how about this? You go home and change. Leave the details to me.”
You searched his eyes for a moment to be certain he was serious and you found them sparkling with happiness, pleading for you to say yes. You bit your lip holding back nervous excitement and nodded quickly. “Alright, yes!” You shouted out, swept along with his mad plan.
Alfie grinned at Cyril and let out an enthusiastic proclamation, “She said yes, mate!” The dog barked in response, not quite understanding why his owners were so overjoyed, but wagging his tail in support.
“But, Alfie, wait! What about our guests? The reception?” you asked in a panic.
“I know it wasn’t the plan, but what about here? It’s where we met, weren’t it? Sentimental value has to count for somethin, right?” he asked stroking your cheek.
You smiled eagerly, “You’re right. It’s perfect,” you agreed, leaning in to capture his full lips in a soft, gentle kiss. He had a calming effect on you despite the urgency you felt building inside you to gather all the things you’d need for an impromptu wedding. 
—————————————————————————————-
The car pulled up outside the run down looking establishment and Tommy double checked the address Ada had sent to his phone one last time before exiting. He removed his black leather gloves, placing them in his coat pocket as he strode toward the front door, glancing at the motorcycle parked at the curb. If he had any doubts he was in the wrong place, they were erased as he studied the cans tied to the back and the small sign tacked above the number plate. Tommy shuddered as he read it, “Just Married.” He hoped he wasn’t too late.
As Tommy continued toward the door, a tall young man with curly hair held out his hand. “Pub’s closed today, sir.”
“I’m not here for a drink. Just a word,” Tommy explained as he pushed inside the crowded bar. The party goers barely noticed his arrival in the din of the music and raucous laughter. 
“Are you fucking deaf?” the young man asked catching Tommy by the lapels and slamming him against the wall. That action garnered plenty of attention and Alfie was by Ollie’s side in an instant to see what was going on. 
“Put him down, Ollie. He’s only little,” he instructed. Ollie released Tommy, shoving him away before returning to his post outside.
“You alright, Tommy? How are you keeping?” Alfie asked attempting a civil tone for your benefit.
“You treat all your patrons this way, Alfie?” Tommy said with a roll of his neck. 
“Don’t get your hackles up, mate, it’s a party. Though come to think of it, yeah, you weren’t invited were ya? Now let me think why that might be,” he said searching the ceiling in mock confusion. “Right, cause you tried to fuck up our wedding day. I’m guessing that were your people?” he said with a growl.
Tommy stood in silence clenching his jaw before answering, “I’ve got lots of people on my payroll. You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Come off it, Tommy. Stop behaving like a fucking child and admit you can’t stand to see her happy,” Alfie spat at him accusingly.
Tommy’s eyes flashed with anger and he pointed a finger at Alfie. “You know, until you filled her head with lies, she was happy with me,” he said disgustedly.
Alfie scoffed at Tommy’s recollection. “Every man craves certainty, don’t he? Well, let me assure you, she wasn’t, mate. Not with a self-centered prick like you.”
With those words Tommy lunged for Alfie, but Alfie shoved him away harshly. Tommy came back at him with greater ferocity, throwing the first punch which landed squarely on Alfie’s lower jaw, cutting his lip open. As blood began to seep out of the cut, Alfie’s tongue darted out to lick it off and his anger grew. He countered with a swift punch to Tommy’s nose and then to his flank, watching as the smaller man doubled over with a groan. Alfie took the opportunity to lock a strong arm around Tommy's neck to subdue him, but that only made Tommy thrash harder. He kicked and wheezed beneath his grasp, desperate for oxygen before biting down hard on Alfie’s left hand. Throwing Alfie off balance, he forced the larger man to the ground and they tumbled one over the other, grappling for a hold. The crowd dispersed with gasps and screams as they watched the scene unfold before them.
You exited the back room at that moment and found Alfie straddling Tommy, the heel of his hand pushing against Tommy’s chiseled jaw. “Alfie, what are you doing? Stop!” you cried, running towards them. The men finally broke apart hearing your shrill cries and Alfie allowed you to pull him up to stand next to you as Tommy sat on the ground with his head between his hands, his tailored suit ruined by dirt and blood. After a few moments of silence and your concerned stare boring into him, Alfie spoke.
“Sorry, dove. Bit of housekeeping…long overdue,” he said quietly, chest still heaving from exertion. 
You placed a hand over his heart and looked into his eyes. “Why don’t you go put some ice on your lip?” you suggested to put distance between the two men. He watched you for a moment wearily, tucking the hair behind your ear as he attempted to shield you from Tommy. “I’ll be alright,” you promised and he nodded. Trudging off toward the bar, he looked over his shoulder, giving Tommy one final glare. 
You looked over at Tommy who had finally picked himself up asking, “Why did you have to do that?”
“You should ask your fiance,” Tommy said, dabbing at his nose with a handkerchief. 
“Husband, Tommy. Why do you think I’m wearing a white dress?” you scoffed.
“M sorry. You look beautiful,” he said, looking down at the floor.
“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” you prodded, hoping to prevail to his better nature. 
Tommy let out a defeated sigh and raised his head. “I thought it would be you and me,” he said simply.
“Oh, Tommy,” you sighed. “So did I. For a long time….but we were never going to work. You were consumed by wealth and power. All I’ve ever wanted was love. I married Alfie in a registry office and we’re celebrating in a pub because I don’t give a shit about money. I don’t know that you ever believed that.” 
Tommy looked away for a moment. He sniffed harshly before musing, “That’s it then. The end of us.”
You nodded and leaned into him, giving him a chaste peck on the cheek. “I wish you well, Tommy. I really do.”
Tommy pulled back, pressing a hand to his mouth. You noted the look of remorse in his eye and you realized you may have finally gotten through to him. Feeling sorry for him you asked, “Would you like to stay for a drink?”
He looked up at you hopefully as you added a warning, “No more fighting though!”
He let out an amused chuckle, “Not sure I can promise that, love.”
“Why? Is Arthur here as well?” you joked, surveying the crowd. Tommy laughed and you escorted him to the bar, pouring him three fingers of Irish whisky. You tucked yourself under Alfie’s strong arm as your husband raised a toast out toward all your friends and family. 
“To fun and fucking!” he said with glee. “And forever” you added with a brilliant smile. Everyone around you cheered as you clinked glasses, even Tommy managed to clap because he had never seen you smile so brightly. 
As you rested your full glass on the counter, Alfie gave you a peculiar look. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna waste the last of Solomon’s Finest Rum, darlin’?” he asked with furrowed brow. “You feelin’ alright after your little chat?” he asked pulling you into him and tilting your chin toward his face.
You brushed your lips over his and he hissed at the contact with his cut. You pressed into him as gently as possible, capturing his full lips in a soft kiss before breaking away to whisper, “More than alright. Already have Solomons finest in my belly, don’t I?” Alfie roared with laughter at your comment before pulling back to search your face. Your tears of joy were enough to make him pause. Then he wrapped you in his arms once more stroking your hair as he asked, “Not tears of regret or sadness, yeah?”
“I think that’s been eradicated long ago,” you assured him. 
--------------------------------------
Tag list:
@peakyswritings
@evita-shelby
@tommydoesntpayforsuits
@shelbydelrey
@alanadetigy
@wandawiccan60   
@easilyobessedbutflighty
@severewobblerlightdragon
@lovemissyhoneybee
@theshelbyslimited
@kittycatcait219
@peakyrogers
@christinasyellowflowers
@retromafia
@notyour-valentine
@theshelbyclan
@dreamlandcreations
@solomons-finest-rum
@vir-tual
@raincoffeeandfandoms
@margaret-morriss-secrethideout
@elles-mind-palace
@look-at-the-soul
@buttercup32sstuff
@cillmequick
@little-diable
@potter-solomons
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pacifymebby · 1 year
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omll i was wondering if u could write about the peaky boys w a makima!reader from chainsaw man, absolutely batshit crazy 💗
Yo okay so i had to check that i knew who this was because i havent watched chainsaw man however, i think i get it. Feel free to tell me if i do not in fact get it haha ❤️
Tommy
🌿 You seem sweet at first, non confrontational, almost mousy? You're always smiling and he only really knows who you are because you're always being mentioned by the mothers on watery lane, the local old men and women, because you're so helpful, always helping people
🌿But Tommy isn't so optimistic as to believe that a person could be so kind without wanting something in return
🌿 he’s not surprised to see your dark side, but he is surprised to see how completely ruthless you are... at first he thinks you’re just passionate about your cause... then he starts to realise its more than that
🌿 you’re heartless, completely murderous... anyone who stands in your way ends up dead and, to make it worse, you fear nothing. Not even Tommy Shelby
🌿 when he realises that all this time you’ve been using him to get to where you want to go, he wants to play the long game, to get revenge... but he isn’t so sure he’s got time to play the long game anymore
🌿 him going 0 to 100 with you, angry, threatening, hand on his gun only to be met with you going 100 - 100000000 on him, a whole new level of insane.
🌿 Tommy has that thing he tells people, that he’s already died once, that he’s already dead... that thats why he doesn’t fear anything or anyone, but you genuinely terrify him precisely because you’re the opposite of that
🌿you know you’re alive and you’re foaming at the mouth with that insane survival instinct, when it comes to kill or be killed you basically invented the term. 
🌿 You’d go from lovers to enemies, but painfully, he’d still be in love with the idea of who you once were, who he thought you were, he’d be desperate to believe that he could see you that way again some day, that you’ll go back to being that sweet, seemingly innocent girl...
🌿 but you won’t and the pinnacle of your relationship would be the two of you struggling, guns raised to one another’s head, either you’re going to end up killing each other or fucking each other.
Alfie
🐻 Alfie already has one unhinged-stop at nothing-bloody minded friend, and fuck does he need another
🐻 Like a hole in the head does he need another..
🐻 When he first meets you he senses something off but he can’t quite work it out... the reason for that is that you are too much like him, too much like Tommy, and yet you don’t behave that way at all
🐻 You behave like a good, kind, down to earth, ordinary girl. You behave like a girl who shouldn't be wandering around Camden Town on your own. Which is why he offers his help to you.. why he takes you under his wing. 
🐻 Of course, you’d come to Camden Town with the sole purpose of attracting his attention, knowing that the feared old man was known to be a little soft when it came to young women.. a charitable man
🐻 So you’d planned that he would take you in, take you under his wing, help you along in life... thats why you’d gone to Camden, why you’d wandered around on your own, helpless and doe eyed... you’d been hoping to manipulate your way into gaining Alfies trust
🐻 And you succeed, once you’re in you get close to him, you keep up the innocent act, when he talks about bread you make sure he believes that you really think he’s talking about a loaf of bread... you have him take pity on your softness, completely endear him to you
🐻 You probably get into a position where you can play him and Tommy off against one another to destroy them both and take everything they have
🐻 When Alfie finally realises it’s because you lose your temper. You’d asked him for something he couldn’t give you, asked him to do something that wasn’t just “unreasonable but fucking insane sweetheart, thats what that is...” 
🐻 Alfie comes in one morning, into his office, switches the lamp on and you’re sitting there in his chair with your fingers wrapped around his gun. You tell him to sit down and this time it’s you thats offering the deal or death...
🐻 He doesn’t know how to respond at first, he can tell by the look in your eyes you’re not the girl he thought you were, that something has snapped in your head. He’s sad! He’s losing a friend, bad blood all over again...but he knows he has to be smart to get out of this one. 
🐻 It’ll end up a triangle, you trying to play Alfie and Tommy off against eachother, each of them trying to play you off against the other. Unless Alfie and Tommy work together then they’ve already lost to you...
Arthur
🍂  Poor Arthur would be completely taken in by you, he’d fall in love with you so fast, he’d think you were so good for him
🍂 and maybe you would be... at first. You’d help him with his sickness, with his ptsd, you’d provide him with the support he needed to begin to face his demons and get better
🍂 you’d help him get sober and the Shelby family would be torn. Ada and the younger siblings would probably think you were doing a good thing, that you were a good woman, but Polly would be suspicious and Tommy again, would be asking what you wanted in return. 
🍂 he’d even try to trick you, offering you large sums of money to abandon his brother in the dead of night... but you wouldn’t fall for it. You’d be so much smarter than he was accounting for. 
🍂 And then one day when the time was right, you’d snap, you’d flick the switch in your brain and rip everything Arthur had worked on, everything he’d managed to take back from himself... you’d rip it away from him....
🍂 and you’d do it for your own selfish but stubborn reasons... you want him to be your own personal fighting dog... you want to break him completely.. if he snaps and relapses he’ll be out of control and so, so, so much worse than he ever was before, 
🍂 thats what happens when you show someone the door, give them a light, give them hope and then tear it from them... when the wounds almost healed it hurts more to rip it open, it scars deeper
🍂 he’d be so broken that you’d have complete power over him and you would be able to use him to terrorise Tommy and take over the family.. 
🍂 the fights between the two of you when he begins to realise what you’ve done to him... the violence, the threats... and of course that deadly combination of love and hatred again
🍂 Because Arthur loves you with the whole of his soul... and now he’s realising that you never loved him at all... he’s wounded and confused but mostly he’s angry
🍂 and maybe you’ve underestimated the monster in him... I can see this ending one of two ways... him strangling you to death in a bitter, coked up rage, then being devastated by what he’s done... Tommy having to reassure him, bring him down, stop him from harming himself. Or you manipulating Arthur into nearly killing Tommy... it would be dark, Tommy having to kill you not knowing whether or not if he does, Arthur won’t kill him. 
John
🌼 I think John would be less taken in by you than Arthur, but I do think he’d fall for your sweet, kind girl charms. 
🌼 The reason he’d be less taken in would be because he knows how good girls react to the work he does, to the things that happen in his family... and you don’t react like you should at all
🌼 He knows something is off when Tommy comes into the office blood streaming from his chest, you don’t even pale. You smile and offer to help him get cleaned up. You don’t ask any questions
🌼 So John is suspicious, but he wants to see the good in you, so he sticks by you, makes little excuses in his head for why you are the way you are. He manages well, deciding that perhaps you’ve seen lots of blood before, you have brothers who fight maybe... 
🌼 Of course you’re not bothered by the sight of blood because it’s usually you drawing it from other people. You’ve stabbed people, strangled people... you’re murderous, lethal and merciless... and the only reason you’re with John is because you have one goal...
🌼 To take everything his family can give you, then get rid of them and, any evidence they ever existed. You’re going to drain them like a parasite. 
🌼 You probably fuck your way through the whole family... you’re not even careful... you kind of let John know that you’re fucking his brother Tommy.. there's nothing he can do about it, and it does enough to hurt him that you can control him
🌼 Its when you’re fucking them that you put ideas in their head. You convince Ada to leave Birmingham again, convince Polly that she misses the nomadic lifestyle, the travelling from place to place... You slowly isolate the men from any women in the family who might still see sense... and then you pit the men against each other...
🌼 I can imagine Tommy threatening to kill you, he has you up against the wall with a gun pushed to your throat, choking you with it. You have a gun digging into his stomach, both of you thinking you could fire at any second, Arthur practically foaming at the mouth screaming for Tommy to just fucking do it, and John, coming up behind Tommy, telling him no, “you fucking touch my wife and I’ll see that you die fucking slowly...” you thinking you are winning, that Tommy will put you down, that you will be able to play out your twisted little plan to its end
🌼 but the second Tommy lets you go John shoots you, he’s cold and heartless in the moment, starring into you with empty eyes as you try to beg and manipulate, but you’re so far gone crazy you can’t hide your contempt for him anymore. 
🌼 “Know you don’t love me now don’t I, know you never fucking did!” John bitter and spitting as he gets up in your face. 
🌼 You daring him to do it, trying to goad him into it, you even put your lips around the barrel of the gun, lick it and suck it trying to outdo him
🌼 But he does do it, he does kill you. I think he’d be so hurt by the way he’d poured his heart and soul into loving you, that it would be the love for you, the you that once was which made him kill you. 
Bonnie
🍀 Bonnie is a bright enough lad, but he wears his heart on his sleeve so he’s easy to read, easy to know, easy to manipulate. 
🍀 You wouldn’t struggle to tug on his heart strings, you’d be shy with him at first, pretend to be innocent, you'd pretend you were a blushing virginal young girl who’s no evil in her heart at all
🍀 And Bonnie would believe you because he always wants to believe the best in people, always so optimistic. 
🍀 Aberama won’t trust you entirely, he’ll be suspicious but not enough to stop you getting close to his son, and he’ll be pacified by the way you do make his son so happy. 
🍀 You’re Bonnies number one fan, you cheer for him at every fight, you visit him in the changing rooms before and after... and you place bets on him all the time. 
🍀 But you’re only doing this to get close to the Peaky Blinders... Bonnie says he’ll be the most successful boxer in the world one day and he tells you Tommy Shelby is the one who is going to make it happen... so what can Tommy do for you, you wonder?
🍀 Behind the scenes you start tying your strings, manipulating them, devising plans and slowly, slowly getting closer to the Shelby's. 
🍀 By playing exactly the same innocent game, you manage to get yourself into Tommy’s bed too, and once you’re fucking the most powerful man in the city, the city may as well be yours. 
🍀 You start using Tommy, having him kill your enemies one by one by lying about them, powerful men... you make things up, say they raped you, threatened you, tell him they hurt you... and one by one Tommy makes them disappear.
🍀 The tragedy here is that its Tommy giving the orders, more often than not Bonnie is the one carrying out the orders with his father... risking his life and his soul in the eyes of god, to kill your enemies, whilst you fuck around and humiliate him
🍀 You probably let him know in the most cruel way once you’re done with him... you’d let him walk in on your fucking Tommy in the changing rooms or something, right before a fight he’s supposed to be throwing for the peakys. 
🍀 And Bonnie would be angry and humiliated and upset, so he’d throw the fight the wrong way... he’d lose instead of win or win too soon, in the first round, it would be reckless and Tommy would threaten him... you’d watch them fighting and be so amused and entertained. 
🍀 Bonnie would be devastated but he wouldn’t be able to take revenge, he’d be heartbroken but, no matter how terribly you’d wronged him, no matter how much it hurt... he wouldn’t want to see harm come to you, wouldn’t be able to kill you. He’d end up chewed up and spat out... and the Shelby's would be threatening to forget him too if he didn’t just accept things the way they were and carry on the same as before, 
🍀 He’d try to warn Tommy but Tommy wouldn’t listen, would be too wrapped up in your web of lies... and when it all comes falling down, when you turn on Tommy too.. will Bonnie still be there to help Tommy? I’m not so sure. 
Isaiah
🐀 It wouldn’t take much to manipulate him, you’d only have to flirt with him, only have to respond to his charm with charm of your own. You could probably have him in your bed on the first night, addicted and coming back for more within a day...
🐀but Isaiah would be the first rung on your ladder to the top of the Shelby family and you wouldn’t be satisfied until you’d married Tommy and killed him off, taking over the business and family... 
🐀 But for now, Isaiah... you’d control him with sex and it would be so easy.... his friends would joke that he’s whipped... they'd have NO IDEA
🐀 you’d use him for your own entertainment too, getting him into trouble, having him start fights purely to satisfy your own bloodlust
🐀 he’s see that you were insane before the others but he wouldn’t do anything about it, partially out of pride, partially out of not wanting to lose you, but mostly because he’s attracted to your unhinged side... he thinks its hot that he’s never sure when you’re going to flip the switch and kill a man
🐀you don’t scare him but its because he’s naive, he doesn’t realise the extent of your madness, doesn’t understand that you’re using him... he just thinks you’re a little wild
🐀he’s always having to talk you down from killing men who piss you off at bars. he’s dragged you away from a  bleeding, broken man you’d launched yourself at because “he's in a bar but he ain’t fuckin drinking.. what kind of man...” 
🐀and you’ve caused trouble between him and Finn and Michael before... you can’t help yourself, you like to play them off against one another just to see what will happen... 
🐀its only when one night you pull your gun on Finn, that Isaiah realises there's a problem, that you're mental... the fact you’d pull a gun on one of your closest friends... and over something as trivial as saying he doesn’t think you’ll convince Tommy to let you do a job for him with the lads. 
🐀 its then, when he’s trying to talk you down, that he realises you really are cold, heartless, that you don’t care for anyone but yourself... not even him... when he asks you to put the gun down and you don’t even hear him
🐀he has to pull a gun on you himself... when you relent and smile this wide and sweet smile, you laugh and pass the whole thing off as a joke, but he knows deep down that it wasn’t a joke, you weren’t just messing around...
🐀from then on he’s terrified of you, he doesn’t know how to warn the rest of the family... they’ll think he’s being stupid, scared of a girl...
Michael
☘️he probably thinks he’s using you... you’re this Machiavellian power couple but you’re both using each other, manipulating one another...
☘️for awhile it would work... the two of you managing to fix things within the family, climbing higher as a couple, taking power slowly...
☘️but you’re only using Michael and he thinks he’s using you... so the closer you get to the top the deeper the betrayals of one another cut... you would happily serve Michael’s head on a silver plate to Tommy Shelby in exchange for a little more of the company...
☘️You also want revenge... Tommy has never taken you seriously, what with you being Michaels wife, you’re hardly an important member of the family and you’re married to a traitor...
☘️but you’re determined to prove Tommy wrong about that, you’re worth so much more than he thinks and you’re going to show him that underestimating you is a mistake...
☘️it’s you that lets Tommy know Michael is a traitor, you leave him enough clues that he thinks he’s working it out for himself... and of course, you cover your own tracks too, setting Michael up for your crimes as well as his, and letting other peaky boys take the fall for you too
☘️its a combination of brains, sexual charm and the occasional sudden snap of violence that people begin to fear you
☘️the house staff work it out first, they talk, they know you’re not so pretty and sweet, that you’re villainous...
☘️you let Michael take the fall, he gets killed and suddenly you’re a widow, but Tommy looks upon you kindly for the way you lead him to Michael, he begins to trust you, give you more power... when you begin to slowly try and poison Tommy, against the rest of his family and also literally try to poison him - slowly, adding an untraceable amount of arsenic to his tea everyday - its Frances who realises the evil in you
☘️ you get so close to power but Frances kills you, she uses Tommys shut gun to kill you because you’ve worked out that she knows about you... you try to kill her but she gets to you first, shoots you in the back when you’re adding the arsenic to a vacant Tommy’s tea. And thats that, maybe you can outsmart the gangsters, but you can’t manipulate or outsmart Frances, soz. 
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Text
The Great British Bake-Off AU!
Yes, this is happening. So a little while ago, I got inspired by this shitpost:
The OG question was sent to @kiatheinsomniac and then bounced to @asscrackcreed from whom I shamelessly have stolen this idea. So shoutout to them I guess.
It was the sign that I needed to write headcanons for the Great British Bake-Off AU. Ngl, I do have a soft spot for this show. It kept me sane when I had to spend a month bedridden during my illness.
Anyway, On your marks? Get, set, bake!:
Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad
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Originally from Syria, he moved to the UK with his parents as a child. Altaïr learned to bake in the home economics class and took a liking to it. He lives in Leicester with his wife Maria and two sons, Darim and Sef. When he's not baking, he's a book illustrator and stay-at-home dad.
While baking, he likes to use earth-flavored spices like nutmeg, vanilla, cinnamon, cardamom, sumac, and mace. He enjoys using orange and lemon zest in his baking too.
Altaïr's strongest side is the technical challenge, and his weakest side is pastry construction. He can make beautiful patterns to decorate his bakes but can't do creative structures. It'll always end up as sth like a square. 
He is one of the calmest bakers on the show. Everything is perfectly planned and tried out multiple times before the challenge. Altaïr doesn't go into a panic mood while under pressure, or at least he doesn't show it.
His signature recipe is cinnamon walnut cake.
Ezio Auditore
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Ezio learned how to bake from his mom, and cooking together was their bonding activity when he still lived in Italy. He's a banker living in Edinburgh. When he's not baking he participates in all free-to-air cooking game shows. 
Unsurprisingly Ezio is a master in the cream department (nothing sexual about this sentence.) He likes using cream, mascarpone, meringue, and egg whites. White, fluffy, and puffy!
Ezio likes deep and slightly bitter additions to his cakes, like coffee or chocolate. He always balances them out with the perfect amount of sugar. It's not too sweet, but you can still taste the deep flavors.
His signature bake is ricotta cheesecake with coffee. He does have more Italian classics in his repertoire, like Torta della Nonna and Torta Paradiso.
He's a very emotional contestant who would cry if something goes wrong (because it's NOT just a cake!) He's very harsh on himself and tends to exaggerate his mistakes. His baking has to be perfect. Otherwise, he'll be dissatisfied with it. He's loud and a show-off in front of the cameras, so the public loves him, and the producers love him.
Connor Kenway
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Connor, though born in the USA, currently lives in London. He works as a home health nurse in Camden (I picked Camden because it's where the Kennway Mansion is ) for a man named Achilles. He bakes to relax after work, and his numerous friends are big fans of his goods.
Due to his job, Connor is good at all the physics and chemistry related to baking. He knows how to structure his bakes and what temperature of the chocolate is the best for the best glossy effect. Things like this.
He's the super competitive baker. He's in the show to win and won't accept anything less than the finale three. His determination is sometimes scary as if he wanted to murder someone who killed his family.
Connor's signature bake is something typically American with a twist. It is a recipe connected to his roots, but a look into the future too. I'd say it's pistachio, pecans, and pumpkin NY-Style cheesecake.
Connor likes to mix tradition with modern ideas but still keeps them quite conservative. There's a fine line between a modern twist and a  baking blasphemy to him, and he tries to balance it out. 
Edward Kenway
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He is a single dad of two, living and working in Swansea as a shipwright. He's an ex-sailor who used to work in the British West Indies. Edward started to bake eight years ago as a pastime with his now teenage daughter Jeniffer after her mother died. When he's not baking he likes to sail with his children and friends. 
His specialty is in the West Indies bakes. Brown sugar and rum are his favorite ingredients, and his signature bake is a burnt sugar essence sponge cake. He likes to use juicy fruits like pineapple or mango in his cakes too.
Edward is the contestant who should add one tablespoon of rum according to the recipe but pours half of the bottle instead.
He's the chaotic baker. His section in the cooking tent always looks like something exploded there.
He's the "I don't want to be the first baker to leave the tent" kind of contestant. He didn't sign up because he believes he's the best, but:  "If I'm not the last, that's a victory to me" kind of guy.
Arno Dorian
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Arno is from Paris but works and lives in London's most posh Royal Borough - Kensington and Chelsea. He's an actor and a ballet dancer. Arno is an artist and a perfectionist. He likes to express himself, and baking is yet another way to do it.
Arno is an expert on anything related to fruits. Jam, marmalade, or addition of fruits to cream or decoration. He likes to use flowers too.
His strong side is the visual aspect of his bakes. He can make the most creative, baked constructions, but they often lack stability. He can make a flying plane cake that looks real, but it'll fall apart way too soon.
Lavender and blueberry meringue cake is the staple recipe of this baker. However, his mother's recipe apfelstrudel is to die for, and it saved him from elimination.
He is a bit dramatic and a natural performer, but he's not as dramatic as Ezio. He still is dramatic.
Jacob Frye
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He is the youngest baker in the tent. Jacob learned how to bake from his grandma in Crawley. Jacob lives in Whitechapel with his partner and a newborn son Emmett (Canon Jacob had to be a young parent if Lydia was born in 1893 when Jacob was 46. Emmett's name comes from the list of known British Assassins used by the Templar Isabelle Ardant and a fanbase theory that he's Jacob's son.) He works with at-risk youth in a Youth Centre as a Mentor/caretaker and is a football (soccer) coach of their team, "The Rooks."
He's the one who adds controversial ingredients like beetroots to his sponges to make them moister. He can come across as pretentious, but he's just an unconventional baker. 
Jacob is the kind of contestant who everyone thinks is going to be eliminated, but he manages to get by and wins the "star of the episode" title in the next episode. You never can tell how he's going to perform in the show.
His signature bake would be something random that nobody expects, like Medovnik cake.
He's the "started baking, had a breakdown, bon appétit!" kind of contestant.
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Text
The Messenger (14/22)
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Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Adeline Taylor (OC)
Warnings: period typical sexism, series typical violence, period typical views of PTSD, period typical racism, blood and gore, smut
Summary: Campbell makes his next demands known, and everyone has an uncomfortable meeting. Alfie shares some tough love with Adeline down in Camden Town. 
**This is a series, so you should read The School Teacher first if you want to understand everything.**
Note:  As the show does, I am loosely using actual events and people from WW1  and other time periods represented in the show. These are fictionalized  versions of both events and the people.
Word Count: 3727
A/N: If you want added to the tag list, let me know.
Birmingham, 1922
The click of her heels echoed down the hallway as she approached Major Campbell. As she drew nearer, she noted the ever so slight smirk on his face giving him an aura of smugness that made her want to hit him until his lip was too swollen to be smug. Upon returning from the auction, Frances had greeted her at the door with a letter and a raised eyebrow. No doubt Major Campbell had been his charming self when the note had been delivered. 
“I expect you to be around, Miss Taylor, when I have need of your services. Per the terms of our agreement, of course.” 
Adeline smiled, eyes hard. “I’m a busy woman, Insp - I mean, Major Campbell. I have many obligations on my time. I might suggest a bit of planning on your part, just to avoid any unnecessary scheduling conflicts.” 
Major Campbell moved in close, pressed the wolf head of his cane against the soft space between her shoulder and her neck. It hurt, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of a grimace. Oh how she would enjoy killing this man. If she could be patient enough, and the longer she engaged with him, the less likely that option was, she would love to embarrass him, make him a mockery before slowly draining the life from his body. 
“My agenda is your only priority, Miss Taylor.” 
She smirked. “I do enjoy your delusions. Your agenda is hardly a footnote on my ledger. A mere necessity, like a grocery list.” 
His eyes narrowed as he pressed the wolf head deeper into her shoulder. She could feel the bruise forming, knew Tommy would be upset about it.
“One day Miss Taylor you will come to regret your decision to place yourself as my adversary.” 
“Until then,” Adeline said, voice placid as though discussing the weather. “Shall we get on with it?” 
Abruptly, he pulled the cane away from her shoulder and Adeline fought down to rub the soreness from her arm. She followed him down the hall and into a small room with a fireplace along one wall. Seated at a long table in the middle of the room were Irene and Donal. Her lips curved into a cruel smile. To her surprise, Donal gave a subtle nod of his head, his eyes reflecting something other than the seething hatred she’d seen there before. Seems Byrne remained interested in maintaining their agreement. Good. Sliding her eyes to Irene, she noted the stiff way the woman sat, the rigid spine, hands clasped together on top of the table. 
“Take a seat, Miss Taylor,” Campbell instructed, gesturing with his arm. 
Donal stood and pulled out a chair across the table from where he and Irene sat, a mock smile on his face. Had she not caught his earlier glance, the look would have set her teeth on edge. Keeping up with their ruse, she offered him a bland smile as she sat down. 
“I know I’m meant to be surprised, to say, ‘oh, you’re working together, how interesting,’ but I’m not surprised and since I’m not overly fond of lying, I’ll just skip that bit and go straight to the point.” Adeline glanced at Major Campbell, saw him settle into the seat at the head of the table. “You,” she pointed at him. “You ordered the pub blown up. And you,” she pointed to Irene, “were stupid enough to actually do it.” 
“No one is untouchable,” Irene snapped. “Not even the Peaky Blinders.” 
“Of course no one is untouchable, you daft woman. But, and you’re a mother so I believe you should already know this, but just because you can touch something, doesn’t mean you should touch something. A trait,” Adeline smirked, “a character flaw you and Major Campbell share.” 
“Perhaps we should just stick to the agenda. None of us wants to be in the same room with each other, so the sooner we can begin our business, the sooner we can conclude it.”
Adeline blinked over at him. “I don’t know that I’ve ever quite agreed with you more. I find it to be a distasteful sensation.” 
“Noted.”
Pulling a cigarette from her purse, she blinked in surprise as Donal held out a match to light it for her. She inhaled a long pull of tobacco, closed her eyes, and let it work its magic to soothe her, if only temporarily. 
“You never did answer my question,” Adeline began, opening her eyes to stare hard at Irene. “Never did explain what it felt like to be working with the likes of the good Major here. A man who made his career killing folks like you, martyrs for your fucking cause. So tell me, how does that feel?” 
Anger flushed Irene’s cheeks, her jaw clenched as she turned away. 
“Can we just conduct ourselves?” Campbell asked. 
“Just tell me who it is you want me to kill this time. Can’t have the blood of Paddies on the hands of the Crown or the Fenians now can we? But me? No one gives a toss about the blood on my hands. Give me a name so I can leave.” 
“Are you sure we need her?” Irene asked. 
“She is the best option for completing the mission, though it pains me to admit it.”
Adeline smirked. “Aye. Major Campbell becomes uncomfortable when he has to pay me a compliment. Much easier for him to besmirch me, call me all sorts of nasty, vile little names.”
“Are you taking any of this seriously?”
“No. You’ve not given me a name. A name that you could have easily handed to me in a letter, whispered to me over a drink. Instead you summon me here to sit across the table from these two…Judas-types. Me mum would have adored you, Irene. She did love a woman with convictions, with a cause. Shame she was stuck with me as a daughter.” 
Irene slid a folder across the table to her. She slanted a look at Major Campbell, surprised the dossier didn’t come from him. Tucking that particular piece of information away, hoping it would be useful later. Looking through the information her eyebrow raised. This was no small time worker in Birmingham. This man must pose a serious threat to someone - she doubted he threatened the King directly. 
“Why him?”
“Did you ask why in France?” Irene asked, sneer on her face.
She resisted the urge to slap her. For a moment, she regretted the deal she’d struck with Byrne if only because of the timing of things. She doubted Campbell would be thrilled with her if she were to reach across and pluck Irene’s eyes from her face, cut her tongue from her mouth, but she wouldn’t kill the woman. Somehow she debuted Campbell would appreciate the difference. 
“I did.” 
Campbell leaned forward, breaking the tension between the two women. “Then it’s the same answer because.” 
She nodded her head more because she heard the words and less because she agreed. 
“You will have complete immunity after the fact, but in the actual mission itself, you will have no assistance from agents of the Crown.” 
“Good,” Adeline said, voice distracted as she reread the information. “I’ll not need to worry about amateurs mucking up my job.”
“Can one such as you afford to be so arrogant?” Derision dripped from Irene’s voice. “That you consider agents of the Crown to be amateurs?”
“Oh, sweetheart, don’t worry yourself about it. If they had professionals, they’d have no need of me, now would they? I understand the intricacies of actual war and actual politics elude someone like you who has only a cause and a futile hope, so kindly allow the adults to finish their conversation without anymore of your inane interruptions.” 
“That’s quite enough!” Campbell’s voice echoed through the small room. 
Adeline smiled. “Aye, you’re quite right. Unless there’s more information than what’s in this little folder, I’ll take my leave.” 
Before anyone could respond, she pushed back from the table and hurried from the room. Halfway down the hall, she heard the distinct sound of Campbell’s cane against the floor. 
“Miss Taylor?” 
“What is it now? I’ve already agreed to do your killing for you. No part of our deal indicated I had to sit around a table with a couple of idiots just for fun. I’ve more important things to do with my time.” 
“You forgot this.” 
Adeline glanced down at the file Campbell held out to her. “I don’t need it.” 
“I didn’t think I would need to impress upon you the importance of this mission.” 
Adeline tilted her head. “No, you’ve impressed upon me admirably. I’m sure your superiors are quite impressed. I said I didn’t need the file. I’ve all the information I need to carry out your little assassination.” 
She continued down the hallway. Pausing at the end she asked, “Tell me, Major Campbell, when I’ve killed this man, how much longer can I expect to live?”
“I beg your pardon?”
She turned to face him, hands clasped in front of her, a mannerism she had picked up from Tommy. “I know how you operate, how you tie up loose ends. Will I have enough time to settle my affairs, tell my loved ones goodbye? No, I doubt it. I do wonder though, will you do it yourself? Will your mortality allow you to be the hand that ends my life for King and Country?”
“We’ll speak again soon, Miss Taylor.” 
She smiled sadly, a haunted humor in her eyes. “Oh, aye. You don’t like me well enough to leave me alone for any length of time.” 
 Camden Town, 1922 
Adeline lingered in the doorway, cigarette between her teeth as she watched Alfie rifle through the papers on his desk. When he read something that pleased him, he kept the glasses on his face, but when it upset him, he pulled the glasses from his nose as though blurring the words would make them disappear. The bakery sounded quiet from in here, given all the extra men, all the extra shipments. The silence cued her in, let her know this dispute with Sabini wasn’t a war. Even when no one fired a weapon, wars were never quiet. 
“You gonna lurk in the doorway all day, pet? Or are you going to come in and say a proper hello to me?” 
“You looked busy.”
“I’m always busy, so I always look busy, but you - you’ve never cared how busy I am, just barge in, demanding me time. So, I’ll ask again, pet, why are you lurking in my doorway?” 
Adeline smiled as she moved into the room. “How long have you known I’m here?” 
Alfie leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingers under his chin. “Still trying to sneak up on me, are you, yeah? Well, you’re still shite at it, pet, still not very good at it at all you see because I can sense you coming. Can sense you right here - ” he patted his chest. “So no use in trying anymore, but you’re a stubborn sort so you’ll keep trying.” 
“One of these days, Alfie. I’ll have you eat those words.” 
“Make meal of them I will, if you finally manage it.” 
She smiled as she perched herself on the corner of his desk. “Are you going to offer me a drink?” 
“We staying here, pet? Thought you might want to head to the house first, get yourself all settled in.” 
Before she could answer, a tall ginger haired man walked into the room. Adeline moved swiftly from the desk and had the intruder bent over Alfie’s desk, arm twisted painfully behind his back before he could utter any words other than fuck. 
“Tommy Shelby,” Alfie began as he stroked his beard. “Good at many things, but he sent a big man, see, sent a big man to be a leader or something and that distributes power, gives lads like the one you’ve got bent over my table like a fucking whore silly little ideas.” 
“He’s one of Tommy’s?” 
“You fucking bitch. I’ve made a truce with Tommy Shelby.”
Adeline grinned at Alfie, pointed a finger at Billy Kitchen. “Do you hear him? Are you sure Tommy sent him?”
“Yes, pet. I hear him. Hear him every bloody day I do. Your man sends me hard working lads, for sure, yes hard working, but bloody loud. Always talking, shouting, goin’ on about who they are like anyone down here cares, right?” 
“I’ll not be spoken to like that.” 
“Mate,” Alfie said as he stood from the chair. “I don’t care what Tommy told you, right, about what you do here, about your authority. This woman standing here, the one who had you over a desk before the door closed behind you, right? She can give any order she wants to any man here, and if they’re fucking smart they’ll just do whatever it is she says.”
Adeline pulled his hand back harder, enjoying the way he winced. “And who exactly are you to be making truces with the likes of Tommy Shelby?”
“Billy Kitchen, one of the Black Country boys.” 
“You’re the reason Charlie’s in such a grumpy mood. Says there's no sport in it anymore, no one bothers him. Just wave at him as he floats by.” 
Adeline released him, watched as he attempted to regain his footing, restore his wounded pride. 
“Seeing as you're a woman, I’ll not raise my hand to you, but you’ll not touch me again.” 
“Learn to knock, Mister Billy Kitchen and I won’t need to teach you manners,” Adeline told him. 
“What is it that had you comin’ in here in the first place? Told everyone I wasn’t to be disturbed, and here you are, mate, here you fucking are disturbing me.” 
Billy crossed his arms. “We have business to discuss.” 
“Oh,” Alfie said, false amusement in his tone and his eyes. “Business is it? Well, then, that’s something else innit? Business, yes. Talk to me about business, Mister Kitchen.” 
Billy’s eyes landed on Adeline. 
“Go on then,” Alfie said, clearly impatient. “Talk to me about business.” 
“In front of her?”
“No, you know what? Just leave, get the fuck out of my office, right, because you bore me, mate. Go on, get out.” 
Billy looked between the two of them, confused and angry. “Tommy’s in town. He’ll know about this.” 
Adeline laughed, it bubbled out of her before she could stop it. “Tell him I said ‘hi’ will you?”
With a final glare, Billy stomped from the room. 
“Real charmer that one,” Adeline said with a smirk as she sat herself on Alfie’s chair. “He’ll come to trust you in time, and won't bother sending little minions to keep an eye on things.”
“Sayin’ he doesn’t trust me, that man of yours?”
Adeline grinned. “‘Course he doesn’t trust you…he’s met you.” 
Alfie laughed. “Right enough, pet. Gonna pour us a drink while you figure out if you’re going to tell me why it is you came down to see me?” 
With a nod, Adeline pulled the good whiskey from the bottom drawer. Pulling the cork with her teeth, she spat it onto the mess of papers on his desk before taking a healthy swig from the bottle. Alfie, she noted, waited patiently for her. His eyes followed her movements, his hand stroked the length of his beard. When he spoke, the words came out loud, brash - almost manic, but he had a stillness to him, as though he had all the time in the world. A stillness he shared with Tommy. While Tommy remained predator still, a giant cat waiting to pounce, muscles coiled tightly, Alfie had the stillness of a sleeping bear. The thought brought a smile to her lips. She’d thought of Alfie as a bear more of then than not over the years, the heat of him, the size of him, the utter immovability of him. 
“I brought you a present,” Adeline finally said as she passed him the bottle.
“Trouble is what you’ve brought me. Nothing but trouble since I met you all those years ago, nothing but trouble to me. Never come down just to say hello do you?” 
“Aw, I’m hurt.” With a dramatic wave of her hand, Adeline rested her palm against her heart. “I bring you a present, an assassin and you choose to be so mean to me. And of course I bring you trouble. Without it, you’d be bored, and Alfie, no one wants to see you bored.” 
Choosing not to respond, Alfie simply rolled his eyes and took a swig from the bottle. 
“Right, what are we going to do about Sabini? I’m tired of this game of his. Sending fucking assassins up north like he’s in any position to be making such grand gestures? No. We end this little affrontary of his now.” 
“Just like that?” Alfie asked. “He takes a shot at your man, yeah, and you get to fucking decide it’s done, is that it?”
“What, do you want me to wait until he sends an assassin after you, too?”
“Thought you wanted to draw this out, pet. Thought it was your great plan, yeah, your plan to use Sabini as a distraction for whatever it is you’re doing with the Irish.” 
“And making you and Tommy a lot of money in the meantime, don’t be forgetting that you skinflint. Fucking Campbell. He’s having me kill someone, some field marshal who probably pissed off the wrong member of Parliament, or fucked the wrong man’s wife. For all his talk about immunity after the face, he probably intends to kill me as soon as I’ve done his dirty work for him. It’s what I would do.” 
“Not like you to keep someone like that alive. What exactly aren’t you telling me about all this business with Campbell and the Irish? Because, see, I’m not a stupid man, and you’re sitting there talking to me like I am.”
“I’m not - ”
Alfie’s glare cut her off. She swallowed thickly. “I don’t mean to be. Too many moving pieces.” 
“So stop, pet. Stop being so bloody clever and just get it done, yeah? Kill the bastards who need killing. There’s always money to be made, right, always money.” 
“I don’t know who pulls Campbell’s strings. He’s clever, the bastard, but he doesn't have the access to know about Arke, and based on our interactions, I’m not sure he knows as much about her as he thinks he does. His arrogance blinds him. But, instead of finding out what I need to, I’m fighting off Sabini’s fucking assassins and dealing with Polly’s bullshit.”
Alfie nodded. “That’s the trouble with family. Remember you told me that once, you did, looked me in the eye, this eye here,” he pointed to his left eye and Adeline chuckled. Remembering the moment well. His right eye had been covered with a patch. “Looked me there and told me family was nothing but trouble, a burden you were happy enough to be without. But you’re stuck with one now, right, stuck with a loud, obnoxious one and they’re going to be there for you to deal with no matter what Campbell or fucking Sabini do.” 
“That’s not exactly helpful.”
“Helpful? Is that what you’re looking for? Help? Thought you had it sorted, yeah? Told me you did. Said you’d figure it all out on your own, that it was your fucking problem to deal with.”
“Campbell is my fucking problem. You more than anyone know why I can’t fucking get them involved in that, no mater how tough they are.” 
Alfie stroked his beard as Adeline screamed. She narrowed her eyes at him, frustrated by his calmness, by his total lack of reaction. It made her feel silly. Stood there, and when exactly she’d stood from the chair, she couldn't identify, but her chest heaved with the strength of her emotions, her blood pounded in her veins and Alfie just fucking sat there calm as could be, stroking his beard, watching her with slightly narrowed eyes. 
“Right, is that it? You finished with your little tantrum, yeah? You bloody well know I’m not talking about Campbell. I understand all too well your caution with him, because he’s a dangerous sort of adversary. Glad to see that some of the lessons I taught you landed because, pet, not all of them did. What’s one thing I told you, right, one thing I told you would be the difference between winning and losing? The one thing and you’re fucking doing it like you know better.” 
Adeline hung her head, tears falling from her eyes. Damn him. Damn them all. This was why family made her weak. The weakness caused her to make foolish decisions, to take on too much on her own because if she remained the only one taking the risk, then somehow that meant everyone else would be safe. It was all a lie of course. No one was safe. 
“None of that, pet,” Alfie soothed, voice soft as he rounded the desk. He knelt on the floor and cupped the side of Adeline’s face, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Tough love is the only way to get through to you sometimes because you’re stubborn, right? The most stubborn woman I’ve ever had the misfortune of knowing in me whole life.” 
Adeline’s smile wobbled a bit, but it helped push away some of the pain in her chest. “Aye, you are the most unfortunate Jew I’ve ever known.” 
Alfie pressed a kiss to her forehead. “A misfortune I have the privilege, right, to pray for each bloody day, pet.” 
“Love you too, you bastard.” 
Alfie stood to his feet, leaned against the edge of his desk. 
“What’s your plan for the Italians?” Adeline asked, voice not as steady as she would have liked, but getting there. 
Alfie’s smile slid across his face slowly, eyes bright with amusement. “Did you know that it’s nearly time for Seder, did you know that? ‘Course not, what would a goya like you know about fucking Seders, but it’s nearly time, and you know, you know because I’ve told you about it, right, but we sacrifice a king to make things right with God.”
“Your plan is to sacrifice a king?”
“It is. I’m going to sacrifice King Thomas Shelby.”
Part 15
Master List
Tag List: @stevie75 @mootiemoose​​ @ohshititsfenharel​​ @fairy-witch-bitch @portents​​ @alreadybroken-ts​​ @books-livre @missymurphy1985 @lovemissyhoneybee​ @theshelbyclan​ @highgardenrosexx @dolllol2405
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jezifster · 1 year
Note
i am sending multiple songs for the oc thing <3
cut my hair - mico
i can be the bad guy - keri rene fuller
vampire by rumor - tx2
Cut My Hair:
SHADOW OMG so Shadow RIP oof ouch etc. But yeah the vibes the sound the lyrics it's all Shadow 🥲 right in his playlist it goes. I also think he'd personally love this one RIP.
I Can Be the Bad Guy:
Cleo. So much Cleo. The fallen angel vibes, the sound just yeah 🥺 my bb
Vampire by Rumor:
Camden omg omg omg I love this song so much YO GODDAMN. And it's not just Camden bc it's vampirey, just so much of the lyrics fit him omg. Thinking 👀 of scenes 👀👀👀
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pub-lius · 2 years
Note
Yo do you know anything about Banastre Tarleton?
I sure do!! I learned a good bit about him in Virginia. (sorry about the long wait 🥲)
Tarleton was born in Liverpool on August 21, 1754 and went to Oxford and Middle Temple. His family purchased him a commission in the 1st Dragoon Guards.
He participated in the 1776 Charleston Campaign (more on that later), and the capture of Charles Lee in New Jersey. He was given a Lt. Colonel’s commission and made up the Loyalist unit, the British Legion.
He assisted Cornwallis in the Southern Campaign later in the war, which is where he gained most of his fame. He participated in the battles of Monck’s Corner, the siege of Charleston, Waxhaws, Camden, Fishing Creek and Blackstock’s. At Waxhaws specifically, he was accused of ignoring a Continental surrender, which was then used to demonize Tarleton in Patriot propaganda (which doesn’t mean it wasn’t true, I’m not 100% sure).
At the Battle of Cowpens, Daniel Morgan fooled Tarleton into believing the Americans were retreating, and devastated Tarleton’s force with 929 British casualties.
Tarleton’s superiors thought he was immature and too impulsive. After Yorktown, American and British leaders dined together, and Tarleton was excluded because of his treatment of Continental soldiers.
Tarleton finished his military career in England, then became a Member of Parliament in 1790. He was promoted as a colonel in 1790 then major general in 1794. In the Napoleonic Wars, he served under the Duke of Wellington. In 1815, he was awarded a baronetcy and in 1820, he was knighted. He died on January 15, 1833.
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jcink-resource · 1 year
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Site Name: Charmingly Splendid
Type: Based On/ Supernatural
Site link: https://ecs.jcink.net/index.php
Discord: https://discord.gg/HBxyFZWFJb
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Camden Moore ❥ Original ❥ Warlock - Seer/ Prophet ❥ 35 - 37 yo ❥ Open profession ❥ Older, Adopted Brother to Aaden https://ecs.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=720&#entry1671
Aaden's adopted big brother and who Aaden's parents attempted to protect from the demon Loktcas. Camden has the ability to see the future and he predicted Loktcas's demise with his vision. Camden is protective towards his little brother but he would also be stern with him when necessary. Suggested FC: Austin Butler
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Giselle Moore ❥ Original ❥ Witch - Earth/ Psychic witch ❥ 33 - 34 yo ❥ Open profession ❥ Older, Adopted Sister to Aaden https://ecs.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=720&#entry1671
Giselle could be a witch with earth- or psychic powers, she is likely the one who would bring demise to the demon Loktcas (the Demon of Pain), as foresaw by her older brother back before Giselle was even born. Giselle loves her little brother very much, and she would probably rub it in to Aaden that he's younger than her (despite being born the same year) every chance she gets. Suggested FC: Elizabeth Olsen
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Loktcas - aka The Demon of Pain ❥ Original ❥ Demon of Pain ❥ 300 - 600 years old ❥ Open profession ❥ Rivalry to Aaden/ The Moores https://ecs.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=721&#entry1673
Loktcas, a Demon of Pain who enjoys inflicting pains on others as well as enjoying pain himself, he has spent the past 3 decades haunting down the prophet (Camden) who has foresaw his demise, thinking that by killing Camden, he would prevent his own death. This can be a permanent or a temporary character. Suggested FC: Luke Baines
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muneca-lemon-steppa · 5 months
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Interviews for New Beginnings: Part 4
Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader, 3.1k words
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Warnings: talking about home fire, cursing, talking about trauma
A/N: Hi everyone! This chapter is a little different. It's more about developing our characters, understanding what exactly is going on, and setting it up for later events. I'm sorry if this isn't particularly exciting, but I feel like this was necessary for the storyline I'm going down? I don't know, if you guys have thoughts lemme know! As always, I love hanging out with you all on here. It is so much fun, and it's just a reprieve and joy. And if you're finding this for the first time hello!! If you want to catch the first parts just click the tags that say Interviews for New Beginnings, and itll all be there! I promise I'm going to make a masterlist! I just don't know how to hyperlink and it's stressing me out. Anyway I'm sorry I talk so much! Love you guys! - Mo
The tailor shop was not always your family’s tailor shop. When your mother and father first immigrated to Camden, it was the one shop that agreed to hire them. Mr. Kahn was the originator, an older gentleman with large round glasses, the most illustrious beard you’ve ever seen, and the most soothing voice. When he saw the the pitiful young couple that would one day be your parents, he not only opened the doors of his shop, but his arms and his heart and his home.
Your father had been a tailor by trade in his home country, and quickly picked up the new skills and tricks that Mr. Kahn had so generously gifted. Mr. Kahn had no children himself, and his whole family had to stay in his own country as well. Like two lonely ships at sea your parents and Mr. Kahn found each other, and built a a new family. He was there for the birth of you and Eli and your brother, and there for the arrival of your grandparents. And when he passed away, he gave the shop and the home above the shop to your family, his other family. In honor of Mr. Kahn, your father and uncle kept the name Kahn’s and Sons. Though people knew you weren’t the technical Kahn Sons, everyone gave their regards to the beautiful picture of Mr. Kahn that hung in the front. His bright and shining smile and twinkling eyes kept watch over the shop, your family, and anyone who crossed the threshold. Anyone who looked at the painting smiled, remembering his gentle voice and his grand laughter.
That painting is the only thing that survives the flames.
As the sky turns a pale white, all that can be heard above the shocked voice and the rises smoke are the screams and wails of your mother, screaming and asking God why why why? Your aunt and grandmother holding her and weeping as well, praying and begging for an answer. You sister Esther on your hip keeps whispering, “What happened? What happened to our store sissy?”
And you have no answer. You have nothing in your chest but a numb buzzing, and acid in your throat. You feel hot hot tears making canyons in the ash that covers your face. You see Eli, your father, uncle, brother, grandfather, and other neighbors trying to move out any molten machines from the wreckage. When you make eye contact with Eli, he just shakes his head, tears having wiped the majority of the ash away. He looks at you as if yo say, “I don’t even know why we keep looking.”
Esther begins to cry, the smoke bothering her eyes, and you just begin to rock her and walk down the street to take her away from the wreckage. No child should have to see something so horrible as this.
People begin to stop and ask what happened. Who did this? Why Kahn’s? Why your father’s shop? You just walked past them. How would you know? How could anyone know? All you knew is that your sister was crying and coughing too hard. You just needed to get away. You just needed to get away. Just away.
On the other side of Camden, Alfie Solomons walks in to the office, after a long night of praying and bargaining for his secretary to be at her desk when he came in.
Despite his pleas, he is not surprised to see that her desk has been untouched, the stove has not been lit, and the air is too cold to breathe in. He rubs his face roughly, more for punishment than for comfort, and caresses the calendar on the abandoned desk, before tenderly picking it up and taking it to his own desk. Alfie found himself soon flipping through those wrinkled and pressed pages. Noticing the arrows and tiny scribbles on your near penmanship. As he further explores he finds himself chuckling lowly at the small characters of Tommy, Ollie, and even him and Cyril. He notes the repetition of his own name, with a small delicate heart over the i. He nearly completely smudges away the small heart with his tracings when Ollie knocks him back to Camden, “Uhm Alfie…”
“What?”
And that’s when he noticed it… the silence. There were people in the bakery, same amount as usual all doing what the need to do. But he heard… nothing. It was silent. All he could hear were the scuffing thuds of work boots against worn down floor boards, and the moaning creaks of barrels being turned over. Alfie got up from his desk, brushed passed Ollie to look at his men. But they weren’t his men. These were phantoms wearing the clothes of his men. “What the fuck is wrong with them?”
Ollie tenderly stepped behind Alfie, “Alfie… there was a fire last night…”
The blood in his heart immediately froze. His lungs shrank in his chest, and the air was suddenly sucked out of the room. “Where?” Alfie asked, though he already knew.
“Kahn’s… Alfie it’s scorched.”
Alfie couldn’t even finish listening. He had to go. He had to go. Damn the secrecy. Damn what your family knew or didn’t know. Damn what the men would think, seeing him run to see if his w… secretary was hurt. That didn’t matter. The Mad Baker be damned. “Ollie. Get the car. Grab two men from downstairs. We’re going to Kahn’s now. NOW!”
Though the drive to your home from the office was merely 20 minutes, a drive he knew well, it felt as though it took years off his life. The closer the car got, the denser the crowds of people were. The more clearly he could see the dissipating smoke and ash.
When Alfie was a young child, he struggled with fear. Thunder sent him under the covers, loud fights sent him behind his mothers skirts. The dark petrified him, necessitating two candles to defend him from nightmares. This fear followed him through childhood until he was 10, when he was assigned to give a small speech in front of his class. Poor young Alfie Solomons, so terrified of the 20 pairs of eyes that stared at him, that he threw up. He fled in tears away from the gasps and laughter, and back into the arms of his mother. There he wept profusely, embarrassed but mostly angry about how cowardly he thought of himself. His mother, hushing and consoling him, was broken-hearted at her son’s agony. Her only child. Her pride and joy. “Ahhh varóbushik. You know… it is not bad to be afraid… fear is not a sin my love.”
His eyes, ocean like in his tears looked up at his mother, “But I need to be brave. Like papa was.”
She smiled softly, “Mm yes papa was very brave. But you know… bravery isn’t the absence of fear… no it’s… it’s surviving even when you are afraid. It’s doing what you are afraid of even when you are scared. That is brave. You are brave every day my sweet Alfie.”
Alfie curled closer to his mother’s side, rocking and swaying with her as she continued to stroke his unruly hair, “Alfie, I have a trick for when I’m scared. I used it when I was leaving my home country.”
Alfie looked up, hopeful for a spell or a tool to keep him from fear, “What is it mama?”
“I let myself be afraid for 10 seconds. I count backwards from ten, and let my body feel the fear. And with every breath, and every number, and release that fear. By the time I get to 1, I am no longer afraid. I push through it. If you can manage to push through to 1 every time… I think you will find that you can do anything my darling boy.”
Alfie nodded, and resolved to always make it to 1. Even as a Captain in the war, right before the charge, as he saw the enemy approaching, he started the count. He always made it to 1, and always won.
But the counting wasn’t working now. In the car to Kahn’s and Sons Alfie couldn’t make it past 5 before his mind fled to you, wondering why hadn’t seen you in the crowd yet. Why he hadn’t heard your voice above the engine of the car yet. Why he hadn’t heard you call for him yet.
The sick in his stomach almost made its way out of his mouth when he saw what was left of Kahn’s and Sons. The emerald green wood of the front had been destroyed, leaving a festering and open wound. The windows of the above apartment had been blown out, and he could see and smell charred wall paper and clothing. Anything that could be salvaged was already, piled up in a pathetic little hill to the side. The fire department had long left, the police wouldn’t be there for another day, and the neighbors could only hold who Alfie assumed to be your family, as they wept.
“Mr. Solomons?”
Alfie turned swiftly, as if he was afraid to miss your phantom’s last moments on Earth. But you were there, solid. As solid as the ask caked to your face. He willed his arms to stay at his side, so as not to crush you in his arms, or embarrass you. Your eyes begged him to say something, to say anything. To make sense of this. The fire. His presence. Your position. But what was he to say? What role is he to play in this? Esther looked at Alfie curiously her reddened cheeks pursued together, “Are you sissy’s boss?”
A million words could’ve been dictated from the stare you gave him. They can’t know… not now. Not like this. Alfie just smiled softly at Esther, “No little bird, I’m just a neighbor. Your sister’s boss is has an office near mine. But I hear she is a very smart sister. Is that right?”
Esther giggled and nodded, proceeding to babble at Alfie, competing with him in amount of words that could fall out of the human mouth. You couldn’t help but stare at this scene. The smoke and horror seemed to wash away, and all you could see is Alfie and Esther. Esther finally smiling after a night of pain. Alfie chuckling and playing with a small child, speaking with Esther as an equal. Teaching her a clapping game and asking her questions about her favorite dolls. It felt too natural. Too sweet and real and too tangible. It felt as if it was a window to a life you could have and wanted so badly but will never have. It was too much. Your strangled inhale brings Alfie’s eyes to yours, but before he can say anything of comfort your fathers voice booms over, “Mr. Solomons! My daughters are of no concern of yours! What could you possibly take from us at this time? Have you no compassion? No human decency!”
Your father pushed between you and Alfie, a formidable blockade. Alfie mad no move, essentially chest to chest with your father, staring right into his eyes. “Shalom sir. Was checking if the rumors were true. It’s a shame.”
“It is a shame, now please leave. There is nothing more you could take from us. This city is over run with your like, killing and blowing each other up, and what about us hmm?? We take the shrapnel. We either pay your protection fees and starve with a slightly better chance at surviving the blowbacks? Or we save our money to feed our children, and still suffer the consequences of your war? Now Mr. Solomons what more can you take from us?”
It was no longer a question where you got your mouth from. Your father was old, but in his eyes you saw the anger and fire of his youth, of a man out through war. Alfie typically wouldn’t allow this, by anyone. But frankly, what little memories Alfie had of his own father, he saw in yours. And he couldn’t help but feel as though this fire was his fault. Maybe if he hadn’t fought with you yesterday, this fire wouldn’t have happened.
Alfie swallowed down any regret of the night before. The time was not for regret. The time was for solutions. And if Alfie wanted to be a part of the solution, he needed to speak to your father. As businessmen, “Mr. Abraham. I am sorry for your loss. Despite your reservations, you still live in Camden. And as a resident of Camden right? You live under Solomons protection. Now this right here? This is wrong. And I’m going to personally right, see to it that it is resolved.”
Your father began to bristle at this, “The police will do an investigation. We don’t need a gangster mucking about.”
Alfie chuckled, “You know the police won’t do a fucking thing about this. They don’t care about these sort of things they’re in everyone’s purse. Fuck, some of them are in mine.”
“I will not be indebted to another tyrant.”
Your free hand flew to your fathers shoulder, “Papa please… if you won’t allow a mitzvah… please just… just speak business with Mr. Solomons.”
Your father turned to you, “This is none of your concern! Please go to your mother immediately!”
But you stood your ground, “Mr. Solomons is offering you a solution papa! You are impeding a solution and the possibility help and a necessary alliance! And for what?! Pride?! Look at this! We have nothing! The shop is destroyed and we out home is burnt! What other solution could you possibly have?”
Your father just stared at you, mouth open, the emotions of the day washing over him. It was true. There was no other choice. And you were too old for him to be able to shield you from that reality. You clutched a shocked Esther closer to your side, “Papa… just… listen to what Mr. Solomons has to say… He is a business man. He can be reasonable, that’s what people say.”
Your father looked at you, and in that moment he saw you as you fully were. No longer that small child that sat with him until the late hours listening to him read. Not the little girl who cried about hurt birds who didn’t have a papa to take care of them. But a full woman. A whole woman with a firm mind and kind heart and strong temper. In an instant he felt the joy of watching his child, the mourning of losing his little girl, and the wonder of who you became seemingly overnight. He nodded, and turned back to Alfie, who was hiding his smile underneath an unkempt beard. Your father straightened and said, “Well Mr. Solomons. What are your proposed terms for such a partnership?”
Your father proved to be a shrewd businessman, nitpicking with Alfie over every detail in this partnership, which according to the terms would be reviewed every 6 months, with an option of either side to cancel the business relationship at those meetings. But Alfie knew he was never going to be the one to cancel it, as long as it kept him tied to you. You were the assigned scribe to the terms, which you fell easily into like walking. Mr. Solomons would provide housing to you and your family for the time it took to repair your family's home. The home was a block away from his office and home, providing easier access and protection for your family while an investigation was to take place. The investigation, Alfie insisted, would be conducted by his own men, and any policemen in his purse. Alfie insisted to your father that this was more for his own benefit than your father's, as it would solidify his position as the protector and the owner of Camden town. Your father acquiesed to Alfie's demand that the perpetrator would be dealt with in his own way, not involving the actual legal system.
Kahn's and Sons would be repaired and restocked through the use of Solomons men and contacts, which would be completed within in the next two months. Upon the finished construction, two men would be on guard of the shop during the day and night, reduced to one man upon the capture of the man who committed the act. Payment for the housing, rebuilding, and protection would be based on the services of Mr. Abraham and his family. Information obtained during client conversations, as well as tailoring and laundry services necessitated by the entirety of the Solomons Company. Services would be traded according to the going rate of Kahn and Sons prices. And upon the equitable exchange, Solomons laundry and tailoring services would then be discounted at a 45% rate. At the end of the negotiation, both men shook hands, both fighting to keep pleased looks off their faces and keep the air of solemnity and certainty and expectance.
As soon as their hands released, they nodded and gave Shalom, with your father giving directions to his own family, and Alfie barking orders to Ollie and his men. You stayed firmly planted next to Alfie, Esther being taken by your father. You looked at him quizically saying to him, "That is the most generous offer you have ever given in your life."
Alfie gruffed, "You hardly have standing to say that seeing as you only been working with me for 7 months."
"Am I still employed?"
"You better. Or else the entire office is going to shit. Ollie is moping. I can't read your handwriting. And you messed everything up in my office I can't find anything."
You smirked, "I told you, you need new glasses and your office was a pig pen. You should be thanking me profusely."
Alfie just grumbled. He would never admit that the way you spoke to him now made him feel better than he had in the past 12 hours. You allowed your fingers to brush his and the rings stacked on them, "Thank you Alfie.", you let out in a whisper, not looking at him.
He took a quick breath in at the contact, immediately craving more. But he bristled out instead, "For what?"
Your eyes remained planted at the dirt on your shoes, "For coming. For... checking in."
Alfie gently brushed his finger tips against the top of your hands, hanging by your sides, the closest he could get to holding your hands, "I had to. Now get over there, your mother keeps looking over Eli's shoulder. I'll meet you all where you'll be staying."
You nodded, cheeks and hands hot, "Yes Alfie. Shalom."
"Shalom Darling."
Tag List: @jokersqueenofchaos @hoodeddreams13 @satur9-saturnalia @autumnleaves1991-blog @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @character---obsessed @solomons-finest-rum
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jcinktinder · 1 year
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Site Name: Charmingly Splendid
Type: Based On/ Supernatural
Site link: https://ecs.jcink.net/index.php
Discord: https://discord.gg/HBxyFZWFJb
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Camden Moore ❥ Original ❥ Warlock - Seer/ Prophet ❥ 35 - 37 yo ❥ Open profession ❥ Older, Adopted Brother to Aaden https://ecs.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=720&#entry1671
Aaden's adopted big brother and who Aaden's parents attempted to protect from the demon Loktcas. Camden has the ability to see the future and he predicted Loktcas's demise with his vision. Camden is protective towards his little brother but he would also be stern with him when necessary. Suggested FC: Austin Butler
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Giselle Moore ❥ Original ❥ Witch - Earth/ Psychic witch ❥ 33 - 34 yo ❥ Open profession ❥ Older, Adopted Sister to Aaden https://ecs.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=720&#entry1671
Giselle could be a witch with earth- or psychic powers, she is likely the one who would bring demise to the demon Loktcas (the Demon of Pain), as foresaw by her older brother back before Giselle was even born. Giselle loves her little brother very much, and she would probably rub it in to Aaden that he's younger than her (despite being born the same year) every chance she gets. Suggested FC: Elizabeth Olsen
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Loktcas - aka The Demon of Pain ❥ Original ❥ Demon of Pain ❥ 300 - 600 years old ❥ Open profession ❥ Rivalry to Aaden/ The Moores https://ecs.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=721&#entry1673
Loktcas, a Demon of Pain who enjoys inflicting pains on others as well as enjoying pain himself, he has spent the past 3 decades haunting down the prophet (Camden) who has foresaw his demise, thinking that by killing Camden, he would prevent his own death. This can be a permanent or a temporary character. Suggested FC: Luke Baines
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5uzanne · 2 years
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Những kẻ lừa đảo trên Twitter đang chiếm đoạt các tài khoản đã được xác minh để đăng các liên kết Moonbirds NFT giả mạo Những kẻ lừa đảo tiền điện tử Twitter hiện đang nhắm mục tiêu Moonbirds NFTs, một dự án của các doanh nhân Kevin Rose và Ryan Carson. Đó là một bộ sưu tập gồm 10.000 con cú pixel đã đạt doanh số hàng triệu con trong vòng vài ngày. Những kẻ lừa đảo cố gắng kiếm một số tiền từ các dự án NFT thành công là một chủ đề lặp đi lặp lại hiện nay. Tháng trước, họ đã đánh cắp thành công NFT trị giá hơn 500.000 đô la từ chủ sở hữu Câu lạc bộ Du thuyền Bored Ape (BAYC) và Câu lạc bộ Du thuyền Mutant Ape (MAYC). Sau khi khai trương xưởng đúc NFT vào thứ Bảy, dự án đã đạt doanh thu hơn 290 triệu đô la trên Opensea và Lookrare. Những con cú kỹ thuật số của Moonbirds trông như thế nào. Để tận dụng sự cường điệu này, những kẻ lừa đảo đã bắt đầu chiếm đoạt nhiều tài khoản đã được xác minh trên Twitter và đăng các liên kết độc hại có thể khiến mọi người chuyển tiền điện tử hoặc NFT của họ với hy vọng kiếm được Moonbird. Chúng tôi đã quan sát thấy ít nhất 10 tài khoản Twitter bị tấn công trên khắp các quốc gia, từ vận động viên đến chính trị gia đăng các liên kết lừa đảo dẫn bạn đến trang web Moonbirds giả mạo. Những cái tên này bao gồm Levi Sanders (con trai của Thượng nghị sĩ Bernie Sanders), vận động viên cricket New Zealand Martin Guptil, cựu ngôi sao của RuPaul's Drag Race, Dahlia Sin, Pangina Heals, và Lady Camden, golfer Sofie Powell, các chính trị gia Ấn Độ Malti Maheshwari và Bikha Joshi, và cựu thành viên của Hạ viện Argentina, Horacio Pietragalla Corti. Danh sách cứ kéo dài. Những tài khoản này, với hàng nghìn người theo dõi, đang gắn thẻ hàng trăm người dùng Twitter để cố gắng bòn rút một số tiền trước khi các phần xử lý được trả lại cho chủ sở hữu hợp pháp. Moonbirds đang trở nên phổ biến rộng rãi trong số các nhà sưu tập NFT, vì nó đã trở thành dự án hàng đầu trong khoảng thời gian 30 ngày qua, theo trang web phân tích Cyrptoslam. Moonbirds đã tiếp quản các dự án như Azuki, BAYC và MAYC với khối lượng bán hàng trong 30 ngày Với những cái tên nổi tiếng gắn liền với nó, dự án Moonbirds có thể là mục tiêu của rất nhiều trò gian lận trong tương lai. Theo ghi nhận của tài khoản theo dõi lừa đảo tiền điện tử zachxbtdự án là mục tiêu của một cuộc tấn công Sybil khi khởi động. Điều đó có nghĩa là một người đã tạo rất nhiều ví để nằm trong danh sách cho phép sử dụng NFT. Người này đã thành công khi giành được 50 slot và có thể kiếm được hàng nghìn đô la bằng cách bán Moonbirds trên thị trường thứ cấp. Về cơ bản, dự án đã không thể đưa đủ bộ lọc để không cho phép đặt giá thầu như vậy. Có vẻ như ai đó đã tạo hơn 400 tài khoản để Sybil Attack the @moonbirds_xyz xổ số:https://t.co/HeWT5d8DCP Họ đã bán phần lớn trông giống như vậy. Chỉ trong nháy mắt, họ đã giành được 20+ Một ví dụ:https://t.co/UTqYWRkgsG pic.twitter.com/szgJGT5JXO - zachxbt (@zachxbt) Ngày 16 tháng 4 năm 2022 Khi nói đến thư rác trên Twitter, người đồng sáng lập Moobirds, Justin Mezzell, đã giải quyết vấn đề này bằng cách nói rằng tình hình đang tồi tệ và công ty đang cố gắng làm mọi thứ để giữ nó trong tầm kiểm soát. Ôi thư rác thật là khủng khiếp! Chúng tôi đang làm mọi cách để ngăn chặn nó. Rất nhiều diễn viên xấu đang thực hiện vở kịch của họ. Đây không phải là những lời chỉ trích về dự án (tất nhiên là có giá trị) mà chỉ là việc gác lại những dự án nào xứng đáng được công nhận hoặc thành công. - Justin Mezzell (🥃, 🦉) (@JustinMezzell) Ngày 19 tháng 4 năm 2022 Yo! Đây là những kẻ lừa đảo mua các tài khoản đã được xác minh, giả vờ là @moonbirds_xyzvà cố gắng kêu gọi mọi người kết nối ví của họ và bòn rút tiền. Đó là điều tồi tệ nhất. Chỉ cần chặn / báo cáo nếu bạn thấy nó! - Justin Mezzell (🥃, 🦉) (@JustinMezzell) 18 tháng 4 năm 2022 Vấn đề này không chỉ giới hạn trong một dự án. Như Khối lưu ý, khác dự án NFT phổ biến được gọi là Azuki cũng đã được nhắm mục tiêu bằng cách sử dụng cùng một cuốn sách. Dự án Azuki NFT là một mục tiêu khác của những kẻ lừa đảo. Chúng tôi đã hỏi Twitter rằng liệu họ có thực hiện bất kỳ hành động nào chống lại những kẻ lừa đảo hay không và chúng tôi sẽ cập nhật câu chuyện nếu chúng tôi nhận được phản hồi. Đầu tháng này, Elon Musk, người đang cố gắng mua mạng xã hội, được gọi là chương trình thư rác tiền điện tử "vấn đề khó chịu nhất duy nhất" trên nền tảng. Tự hỏi nếu anh ta có bất kỳ đề xuất nào để chống lại vấn đề này.
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southjerseyweb · 22 days
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South Jersey Hoops Ends in Controversy Between Camden and Manasquan
We've got South Jersey hoops controversy here on What up Wednesdays, yo! What up, Bruno? What up, Mayes? The Camden/Manasquan game, …
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muznew · 2 months
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Beatport Top 100 Tech House February 2024
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  DATE CREATED: 2024-02-04 Tracklist : Aluna, Chris Lake - Beggin' (Extended Mix).mp3 Aluna, Chris Lake - More Baby (Extended Mix).mp3 Andruss - Frikitona (Original Mix).mp3 Audio Bullys, Michael Bibi, KinAhau - Different Side (Original Mix).mp3 AYYBO - RIZZ (Extended Mix).mp3 Azzecca - Tell That Boy (Extended).mp3 Beltran (BR) - Smack Yo' (Original Mix).mp3 bewav, MC Menor Mt, & Stizi - HAHAHA (Original Mix).mp3 Bootie Brown, Tame Impala, Gorillaz - New Gold (feat. Tame Impala and Bootie Brown) (Dom Dolla Remix Extended).mp3 Brisotti, bewav - Maluquice (Original Mix).mp3 Camden Cox, Biscits - 365 (Original Mix).mp3 Carly Wilford - The Dance (Extended Mix).mp3 CASSIMM - Downlow (Extended Mix).mp3 Chuck Roberts, DJ Glen, illusionize - Oscillator (Jack Is Back) feat. Chuck Roberts (Extended Mix).mp3 CID, Havoc & Lawn - A Horse With No Name (Extended Mix).mp3 Cloonee, Sosa UK - Weeping Willow (Original Mix).mp3 Dario Nuñez, Nolek, Mathieu Ruz - Sobre La Arena (Extended Read the full article
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djmusicbest · 2 months
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Beatport Top 100 Tech House February 2024
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  DATE CREATED: 2024-02-04 Tracklist : Aluna, Chris Lake - Beggin' (Extended Mix).mp3 Aluna, Chris Lake - More Baby (Extended Mix).mp3 Andruss - Frikitona (Original Mix).mp3 Audio Bullys, Michael Bibi, KinAhau - Different Side (Original Mix).mp3 AYYBO - RIZZ (Extended Mix).mp3 Azzecca - Tell That Boy (Extended).mp3 Beltran (BR) - Smack Yo' (Original Mix).mp3 bewav, MC Menor Mt, & Stizi - HAHAHA (Original Mix).mp3 Bootie Brown, Tame Impala, Gorillaz - New Gold (feat. Tame Impala and Bootie Brown) (Dom Dolla Remix Extended).mp3 Brisotti, bewav - Maluquice (Original Mix).mp3 Camden Cox, Biscits - 365 (Original Mix).mp3 Carly Wilford - The Dance (Extended Mix).mp3 CASSIMM - Downlow (Extended Mix).mp3 Chuck Roberts, DJ Glen, illusionize - Oscillator (Jack Is Back) feat. Chuck Roberts (Extended Mix).mp3 CID, Havoc & Lawn - A Horse With No Name (Extended Mix).mp3 Cloonee, Sosa UK - Weeping Willow (Original Mix).mp3 Dario Nuñez, Nolek, Mathieu Ruz - Sobre La Arena (Extended Read the full article
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