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the-fiction-witch · 18 days

Text

Criminals

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating CUTE

Warning For Hanging

I walked the hot dusty Port Victory streets kicking the dust along with my boots, my case in hand as I walked. The sun slowly set on the horizon as I walked I noticed a couple of ladies on their way home with parasols in hand. They of course began to giggle,

"Good evening doctor dawkins," They cooed,

"Evening Ladies," I smiled as they passed me and I moved my hand quickly with my nibble fingers managing to snag the bracelet of the lady closest to me slipping it into my pocket,

Once I arrived back at the little house I headed in setting my bag by the door and emptying my pockets of chains, necklaces, coins and various other things I had picked up from my day hiding them in the small draw in the cabinet as I kicked my shoes off and set them on the rack, at the end of the month I'd empty the draw and sort things out but for now I just hid everything there. I hung up my coat and my hat by the door and headed through the house finding it mostly empty, so I headed up to the bedroom and smiled as I saw her there.

Y/n stood in the bedroom looking at herself in the full-length mirror, dressed in her tall boots, stockings, bloomers, and black dress with very little petticoats honestly I wasn't convinced she was wearing a crinoline at all, her corset laced right and her black button dress over her, as she slowly braided her Y/H/C hair,

I smiled and went over wrapping my arms around her waist and peppering kisses up her pale neck,

"ohh... Hello Jack," She laughed,

"Hello, sugar," I smiled, "Don't you look beautiful,"

"Aww thank you, well you always look handsome," she cooed stroking my chin and bringing our lips together for a sweet and perfect kiss,

"You flatter me, you are far too sweet sugar," I told her rubbing my nose on hers,

"I do my best, how was work?"

"Fine, sneed being sneed, a few surgeries, got locked up in the morgue for a while so I'm sorry for being late home,"

"It's alright, dinner on the stove for you,"

"Oh? Ahhh I see." I nodded, "I should have guessed, So? where are you off to looking so beautiful?"

"Going to bridge with the girls,"

"Aww alright, you enjoy yourself, Y/n," I smiled kissing her cheek, "Maybe as you're going out I might pop out and play some cards for a bit,"

"Of course, you go enjoy yourself, Jack," she smiled as she finished with her hair, "Don't wait up,"

"You either," I told her,

She nodded and we shared another kiss before she headed out, I had myself some dinner and changed my shirt grabbing my lucky coin as well as some cash to go down the cat and bagpipes for the evening.

I headed through the dark woods the only light the gentle glow from the moon, my black cloak around my black dress to keep me and myself concealed. I reached my usual spot out by the graveyard and I opened up the small chest I hid under a tree I covered my face with the cloth inside and pulled up my hood to hide my Y/H/C hair, and I grabbed my pistol making sure it was loaded, I watched the horses pull the coach along through the darkness. So I made sure I was hidden before I out onto the road pointing my pistol at the driver. He panicked and pulled the carriage over, so I opened the door and pointed my pistol at the canoodling couple who both screamed.

"You're money. or your life," I told them putting on my rough voice,

"Ahh! Okay okay!" The man said handing me his money,

"And you madam," I demanded,

"I don't have any money- Please please- take my necklace!" She said handing it quickly over to me,

"Thank you kindly, you have a pleasant evening," I smirked taking it with me and disappearing back into the dark woods letting the coach go and waiting for the next one. This went on all night pulling over any carriage or horse that seemed worth my time once my bag was full of jewellery and cash I put my pistol back in hiding and headed home leaving my cloak by the door and hiding my bag of cash in my hat box. I headed inside and saw the kitchen was flickering with light so I headed in and saw Jack having some water,

"Awww Hello Jack," I smiled going and cuddling him,

"Awww Hi sugar, how was Bridge?"

"Lovely as always," I kissed him, "how were the cards?"

"Good, I made seventeen pounds,"

"Ooohh my clever boy,"

"Aww thank you, I would have made more but Darius was being a cunt,"

"I don't know why you play with him," I rolled my eyes,

"Cause he has money," he laughed, "But I'm just having a drink to keep the hangover off, Are you ready for bed?"

"Very ready for bed," I nodded, "I'll see you up there," I smiled kissing him before I headed up to the bedroom,

"You think I could get a cuddle before bed too?" He called,

"If you're fortunate Jack,

I headed home with a wide smile on my face, it had been an easy day at the hospital and my pockets were heavy with my cut from the recent heist of the governor's estate, I had a plan for the cash of course I'd finally get my lovely Y/n a pretty ring, it was only right after so long together. I always promised her I would, and honestly, I had been saving up for a while I wanted to get her something truly impressive. I arrived home and emptied my pockets as usual hanging my coat and hat by the door before heading up to see her in the bedroom once more fixing her hair from a bath.

"Awww there you are sugar," I smiled kissing her head, "Dressed up again?" I asked noticing her black dress,

"It's Tuesday,"

"Yes... of course Tuesday bridge. Silly me," I chuckled, "But... maybe tomorrow when we both get up maybe we could go out?"

"Ohh where? it's your day off don't you usually just want to become a little bed slug?"

"I know, but maybe... after a little while of bed slugging, did you wanna go out?"

"Aww, I'd love to Jack, where are you going to take me then?"

"I thought maybe... down to the jewellers?"

"...Wait... really!"

"Yeah really!"

"I'd love you!" She squealed hugging me tightly, "You mean it?"

"I do, I have plenty saved up to get you something lovely, and as you're off to bridge... I might even pop down the cat and bagpipes and see if I can worm my way into a few more pounds to get you a nice box for your ring too?"

"Well I can-"

"No. I told you. I'm paying for this I don't want you using your savings for us,"

"Fine, but I get you to buy our wedding rings,"

"That's a deal sugar," I cooed kissing her sweet lips, "So tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow, I can't wait." She smiled, "See you later,"

"Have fun,"

We shared another kiss before she headed off for her bridge game, I smirked and took my cash to get sorted for tomorrow.

I grabbed my pistol as I pulled my hood over my head watching the carriage get closer, I jumped out from the trees and forced the driver to pull over, then I forced open the door but I was taken back as I saw Captain Gains with guards all with their pistols on me,

"Shit-" I began trying to bolt but the guards rushed out and grabbed me disarming me and dragging me kicking and screaming at the Captain,

"Well, well, The shadow of port victory," he said as he pulled back my hood and cloth to see my face, "... not what I expected I admit. But your time of judgment has come young lady,"

"Fuck you!" I yelled,

"Take her away." He demanded,

I headed home with a wide smile my pockets heavy with cash after a good night at the cat and bagpipes almost doubling my money for tomorrow, I hid it away and headed upstairs expecting to see Y/n in bed already given how late I got back but... no. Hu... that's odd she's normally back by now? Maybe she got held up or something?

I got changed and got into bed wrapping myself up even if I did feel lonely without her here to cuddle, but I'm sure she'll be home soon.

I woke up very strangely mostly the alcohol I imagine sitting up in bed with a yawn, "Good Morning Sugar" I cooed as I stretched, but I looked over and saw the bed empty, "Y/n?" I asked, "Y/n?" I asked again but nothing I got up out of bed and wandered the small house checking every room and calling out to her but she wasn't here... where... where is she?

I sat angrily in a cell, I was so angry I was caught but I felt this horrible sadness in my stomach. Jack would wonder where I was, he would have no idea where I'd gone... it would probably break his heart, that we had planned to go out and buy our engagement ring and I suddenly ran off never to return, He'd think I left him. I wish I could just see him, just speak to him one more time to tell him how much I adore him... but I know I am going to the rope. I had tried asking for a doctor in the hope they'd send him but they always said they'd fetch Sneed and I didn't trust him to tell Jack, I wanted to ask for Jack to ask to see him but I was worried they would think he was involved with me and thus get him hung alongside me. Besides we were unmarried so I had no right to see him even if I begged to.

Soon enough Captain Gains came to me and stood outside my cell he began with the paperwork his pen scribbling along my papers,

"Any final confession?"

I spat in his face,

He wiped it away and glared at me before he called his guards, who opened the cell and forced me out, "A rainy day today, and as always we make sure to hang twice. Just to be sure." He smirked before they dragged me out.

I walked the rainy streets still looking for Y/n, I had been asking all over Port Victory but no one had seen her, I even checked at the hospital just in case something happened or if she'd gone there looking for me, I was so confused... why would Y/n just disappear like this? it's not like her, much less when we had such lovely plans. The thought... had crossed my mind that she might have... But she wouldn't! surely... surely she wouldn't. Even so, all her things were still at home, and her savings jar was still in the pantry. Nothing pointed to her leaving, so I was worried she had gotten hurt somehow. I heard a bunch of hangings going on but I didn't pay much attention still asking around the market if anyone had seen her, I found Charlie a young street boy who I'd saved his leg some months back, he was at the front watching the hangings.

"Hi, Charlie,"

"Hi doctor Dawkins," He nodded,

"You uhh you haven't happened to see Y/n have you?"

"Y/n? Your misses?"

"Yes, my misses," I chuckled,

"Isn't she up there?" he asked pointing to the gallows,

I looked up through the dark rainy clouds that gave the day a blue hue, on the wooden gallows I saw her... and my blood ran cold, she stood in her black dress, her Y/H/C hair a mess, her hands chained, and the noose around her neck. I was breathless and panicked, but before I could even open my mouth the floor dropped-

I couldn't look, I turned away unable to face watching that swan-like neck snap my eyes flooded with tears, I could barely face it but I looked up and saw her neck hadn't snapped, she was slowly struggling for breath.

But I wasn't going to let her die, I saw a guard so grabbed the bottle I keep on me at all times... just in case things go wrong, I doused a rag and sealed it over his nose and mouth forcing the pistol from his belt as he dropped to the floor, I lined it up and fired one shot breaking the rope she hung from causing the crowd to scream and panic. I bolted over and managed to catch her before she hit the ground,

"Hi sugar," I cooed,

"Hi Jack," She coughed as she got teary holding me tightly I gave her a tight squeeze back,

"Let's get out of here," I told her holding her hand and keeping the pistol as we bolted through the street together, "Why were they hanging you!"

"Long story!"

"Well now or never sugar!"

"Ughh well... you know those reports in town about a shadow highwayman?"

"what the stranger mugging coaches outside of town?"

"Yes."

"what about him?"

"I am him."

"... Ohh..."

"Yeah..."

"...Hu.... Well, if we are being honest, you know all the pickpocketing and thievery been going on?"

"yes?"

"yeah... me."

"Ohh... I was curious why you weren't concerned about that," She laughed,

"We are both criminals,"

"Hardly. you're a pickpocket, I'm a highway girl at most were... moral lacking,"

"They'll still hang us!"

"Good point," she laughed, "What's the plan?"

"Get home, get all the loot I've saved up. Hop on the next boat out of port victory."

"We can take mine too, get us stable and sorted," she nodded,

We quickly got home and immediately we packed up our things, the small trinkets we couldn't bare leave, some clothes and both of our stocks of loot all together we had more than another to get out of port victory, enough to find somewhere new and to start a new life happily.

We loaded ourselves up and we shared a sweet kiss,

"I love you so so much, Y/n,"

"I love you more Jack," She cooed "Let's get out of here,"

"Don't have to tell me twice," I smirked holding her hand as we quickly left before anyone could come after us giving her hand a good squeeze confident I was never letting her go again.

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discount-shades · 10 months

Text

Dead or Alive Chapter 3

Chapter 3 The Wild Bunch

A/N: Gold stars are still going out to people who get the references.

Pairing: Jake Seresin/Reader

Warning: Western themed violence. Talk of prostitution

Word Count: 2100 ish

Summary: They finally make it to Penny’s

Previous Masterlist Next

The squawk of birds and the angry chatter of a squirrel bring you back to the land of consciousness and you find Jake's arms around you. In the night you had both rolled over. Your head is tucked into his chest and you are using his arm as a pillow. His other hand was pressed against your lower back, flattening your body to his. Slowly you retract the arm you had wrapped around him.

He is still sleeping so you carefully move away. With his face relaxed he looks younger than he does when he is constantly scowling at you. The lines on his face are softer and you know if he were to open his eyes they would be piercing green. Taking care not to wake him you slip out from under the blanket and quickly dress. The petticoats and dress are still a little damp but will soon dry.

Slipping out of the tent you stretch in the morning sun. The wood you had gathered last night is dry under your tree so you set to work lighting a fire. Jet is grazing in the sun, turned sideways so the sun can warm him in the cool morning air. Shivering you gather water for the morning coffee.

The fire is burning well and coals are starting to form when Jake finally emerges from the tent. He is carrying his chaps and holstered pistols as he stretches and you rake your eyes down his lean form. He walks over and drops a bag of coffee grounds on your lap and you quickly set about getting a pot going. The peaceful expression he wore while sleeping is replaced with a squinty eyed grimace.

Jake sits on the ground beside you and silently hands out breakfast, more hardtack and jerky, but you have no room for complaints.

“How many days to get where we are going?” You ask between sips of coffee out of the bowl he had lent you.

“We should be there tonight.” Jake looks at you over the hard tack he is dunking in his coffee. “Then you can start to think about how you are going to buy me a new hat.”

Your mood immediately sours. “I said I would buy you a new one. Quit bringing it up.”

“It was a Stetson.” His voice has a superiority to it and you scowl.

“It's still just a hat.”

“It was $25.” You choke on your coffee at the price. “I expect one of similar value.”

“I call bullshit!” The look he gives you is condescending with his stupid pretty green eyes and smug grin. “You just want me to buy you an expensive hat!”

“I think $25 to replace the hat I lost while saving your life is a fair exchange.” The fire flickers as you pick up a stick and angrily begin poking at the coals. There is nothing you can say to that. The man did save your life and until you can replace his hat you will be in his debt. A flutter of anxiety settles in your stomach at owing someone something and the powerless feeling it gives you.

You finish eating and pack up in silence. Jake mounts first and helps you mount up behind him. The bedroll is folded rather than rolled to give you more of a seat than yesterday and when you thank Jake he just grunts.

“It’s easier on Jets back.” He says after a few minutes down the trail.

“He’s such a calm horse.” You reach behind you and pat Jet on the rump. “You’re a good boy, Jet!” The horse doesn't even flick an ear and just carries on down the path.

“You didn’t know that when you jumped on his back.” At Jake’s snide remark you roll your eyes, already sick of being stuck with the man. “He could have been green. You didn’t know.”

“I didn’t have a lot of options.” Your voice is clipped.

“He could have reared.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t.” What is he going to get mad at you for next? It feels like no matter what you do or did there is something for Jake to be angry about.

“But what if he did? What if we both fell off?”

You sigh in defeat, your forehead hitting his back as you bow your head. “I’m not playing the ‘what if’ game with you, Jake.”

– – –

Jake groans internally, he can't explain how every conversation he has with you ends in an argument. He had been trying to be nicer but that seems to end the minute he opens his mouth. He had folded the bedroll and packed the saddle bags in a way to give you a more comfortable ride. Why couldn't he have just admitted it to you? It was better for Jet but he did it with you in mind.

“Hang on, we're going to a canter.” At the warning he feels your hands wrap around him and he revels in the feel of your chest pressing into his back before his nudges Jet into a gentle canter down the trail. The sooner they got to Penny’s the better.

– – –

Dusk is falling when you finally arrive at your destination. You are not sure what you expected, but it is not that. The Hard Deck sits on the edge of town and is a combination of a saloon, hotel, boarding house, and brothel, all catering to the less upstanding of travelers.

Jake takes Jet to a stable out back and unsaddles him for the night. You stand quietly by his side, watching, and follow him meekly into the saloon entrance. All the confidence you had earlier escapes you.

There is a man plinking away on a piano and you can see some dance hall girls with their scandalously short, calf length, skirts dancing with some men. Some of the girls are sitting in men's laps while they play poker or talk with friends. You hesitate to call them women. You have been in their position before and know that most aged out of the profession in their late teens. If they didn’t marry soon, most would transition into prostitution like you had, and that only lasted so long as well.

Your heart is thudding in your chest as Jake nods to the bartender and leads you through the back door. The tightness in your chest eases at the sight of Bradley and Pete along with the others who had been part of the rescue. You and Jake are the last to arrive and at your entrance a cheer goes up.

“Hangman!” Bradley slurs, holding up a glass of whiskey. “You made it!” When he gets up to give you a hug Jake pushes him away from you. You frown at Jake, wondering where this new found protective streak came from.

“Sit down, Rooster, you’re drunk.”

Bradley just cackles. “One night together and already won’t let anyone touch her!” He turns to you from where he is flopped in his chair. “I’m glad you made it.”

“Yeah me too,” a grin spreads across your face as you ignore his first comment. “I’m even happier I met you guys when I did.” You glance around at all the faces and Pete introduces everybody.

“Come with me.” Penny, the owner, takes your hand and leads you up a set of stairs to a room. The room is small with a table and chairs crowded into it and a bed big enough for two. Memories of a past you would like to forget cloud your mind and you feel panic set in. Your panicked expression shows in the cloudy mirror above a small vanity.

“How much does it cost?” The room is simple but you are already $25 in debt, if Jake is to be believed, and you have no money to your name. “I don’t have any money.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“If you want to go downstairs and bring someone up to make some money, I take 50% of anything you earn. I cover the room, two meals a day, and the weekly doctor visit.” She surveys you knowingly, It’s always easy to spot people in the business. It's a big cut for a madam to take but with her covering the other expenses it’s fair. You feel hollow, shattered at the prospect of going back to what you did not want to do.

There is a long pause as you stare around the room. “If you are with the Daggers it’s free and I take a cut out of the jobs they pull.” She cocks her head to the side observing you. “Pete said to give you a few weeks to figure out what you are going to do.” She lays a motherly hand on your shoulder. “There is a bath downstairs with hot water on demand. I’ll lend you some clothes and send one of the boys up with some food when you are done. You don’t have to decide anything tonight, we’ll talk more in the morning.”

Penny is kind enough to give you some soap as well and you quickly wash weeks of grime from your body. The hot water is heavenly and soothes your aching muscles from riding. You even use the soap on your hair despite the fact that it will dry out the strands.

When your skin is tingling from the scrubbing you leave the tub and dress in the borrowed clothes. They don’t fit quite right but it is close enough until you are able to wash your own. You head back to the room Penny had shown you.

Maybe Penny needed a cook, or a maid. You could do laundry as well. None of those would pay well enough to get you out of debt with Jake. You could return to pickpocketing, you used to be really good at it. Penny wouldn't want you robbing clients but it's a decent sized town, a small city really. Within a few weeks you could steal enough to buy Jake another stupid Stetson. There might even be the chance you could get a real job.

– – –

Jake volunteers to bring you your dinner. He fidgets in the doorway outside of the kitchen waiting for you to finish your bath. Eventually he grabs a bowl of Penny’s stew and carefully carries it up the stairs. He has to talk to you. “I don’t have your hat yet.” There is exhaustion in your voice when you open the door.

“That’s not why I’m here, Sugar.” He pauses while pushing past you to inhale the faint scent of lavender coming off of your skin. When you scowl at him he sets the bowl down on the table before taking a seat in the other chair. “Eat.” You scoff at the order but dig in, eyes widening at the taste. Penny always has good food.

“I overheard you and Penny talking about you being a working girl here.” He can see your muscles tense and your face harden.

“I’m not giving you a discount, In fact you couldn’t afford the asshole tax I’d charge.” There is no trace of humor on your face. “And I’m not going to ‘work off’ the cost of your stupid hat.”

“No, that’s not what I…” Jake groans and buries his face in his hands. Every time he talks to you he feels like he either puts his foot in his mouth or gets mad at you. He can’t recall one civil conversation between the two of you.

“I wanted to tell you that you don’t have to do something like that just to get me a new hat, the hat can wait.” He wants to reach across the table and grab your hands but he doesn’t know how you would respond.

“Oh.” He watches you spin the spoon in your hand, deep in thought, before you go back to eating.

“I still want a new hat.” He clarifies and you roll your eyes. He sees the hint of a smile on your lips and feels unreasonably happy he put it there.

“Know anybody who is hiring?” He shrugs at your question.

“I don't. But Mav is always looking for leads so if you know of any jobs let him know.” Jake leans back, rocking the chair back on two legs. “He pays for information and if you help work the job you’ll get a cut of the take.”

You hum in thought before stretching your foot out and kicking the front leg of his chair. He lurches forward to keep himself from falling over backwards and crashing to the ground.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you ‘four on the floor?’” He can see the hint of a grin hiding behind your innocent expression and can’t help the laugh that escapes him.

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin/reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman #hangman/reader #topgun maverick #top gun fanfiction #western!au

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angryschnauzer · 3 years

Text

Full Mast

Summary: Your idyllic life as a trophy wife of a rich lord is suddenly disturbed with the arrival of a pirate ship and a mutiny... what will your husband do to save you from the pirates grasp?

Fandoms: Henry Cavill, Sand Castle - Movie, Mission Impossible: Fallout, Night Hunter, Hellraiser Hellworld

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader.

A/N: This is a CRACK FIC. After a brief discussion with @nuggsmum about the cheap romance novels that you could find in the 80′s and 90′s, i called upon the awful storylines, plot holes, and general cheesyness of those books that walked so fanfiction could run. Read the warnings please.

Storyboard note: The only artwork i could find that was suitable to show a Henry-like character included the woman seen above. I tried to crop as much of her out as possible, the story itself does not describe the female reader at all.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Very Dubious Consent, Dub-con, public fingering, public sex, shackles, imprisonment, very corny word choices that echo back to the romance novels.

Full Mast

You resisted the strong arms that pulled you along, the rough blindfold shielding you from your destination, and yet you could hear the call of the gulls so you knew you were near to the shoreline. The cloth tied tightly around your mouth to gag you overwhelmed your senses, the rich musk of male sweat reminding you in no uncertain terms that these were far from civilised men that had snatched you away from your husbands rose garden as you’d been quietly cutting blooms in the dewy morning light.

The ground beneath your feet changed from loose earth to cobblestones, and you could smell the stench of the docks; of the gutted fish and the slop buckets, of the morning after the night before sailors' tavern. You had never been inside but had heard tales of the men that frequented it; dark and dangerous, men that circled the globe as well as the law. Your husband had regaled you with stories of such men, no doubt to frighten you from wandering off, but the man your father had arranged for you to be married to was but two generations your senior, old enough to be your grandfather, and rarely finished a story without veering off to start another. You’d had no say in the matter, the Lord had paid your father a princely sum for your hand in marriage, ignoring your pleas and protests. It had been three months since your father had hopped upon a spice ship returning to Europe with his gold, forgetting about his only daughter.

“Almost there” a gruff voice uttered, and you were suddenly hoisted over a wide shoulder

“Mmmmfff!” you exclaimed around the gag, but your protests were not heard as the men climbed the gangplank and aboard a vessel. Soon you were tied and thrown into a small room, left alone in the darkness as you heard the ship being prepared for sail.

The ship was on the open water when you were pulled out into the bright daylight, having managed to work the blindfold lose you were now wishing it was still in place, the bright carribean morning sunshine now blinding you as it glinted on the crystal blue waters. Big men stared hungrily at you as you were dragged across the deck to a small staircase that led up to the ships wheel and that’s when you saw him;

“Captain! Here she is!”

The big man at the wheel grinned, his bushy beard and cropped hair doing little to distract you from his piercing blue eyes that shone with a marked interest. Nodding to a young dark haired man he handed the control of the wheel over before quickly descending the stairs and landing steadily on his booted feet just inches from where you stood. With a toothy grin he looked down at you, his gaze falling to your heaving bosom where the stays of your corset had become loose in the struggle, licking his lips before he addressed one of the men gripping your arms;

“Well ain’t she a peach… caught a good one here Constable”

Your attention snapped to the man at your side and you suddenly realised who he was; Walter Marshall; the town constable. His wild and unruly hair and stone cold stare had kept order in town for as long as you’d lived on the island, but you recalled the last town meeting that had been held at your husband’s mansion had been far from smooth, with a number of towns people getting into a heated argument with the lords and gentry, Constable Marshall being one of them.

“You can still smell the roses on her Sy” the man on your other side commented.

The Captains beard tickled your cheek as he leaned forwards and inhaled, his nose brushing against your bare neck and sending a shiver down your spine, the whimper that escaped your throat barely audible and yet he pulled back, a faint look of surprise on his face that was quickly replaced with a smirk;

“She might be smellin’ of sumthin’ else once we’re done with her” he paused and nodded to the man on your other side; “Walker, shackle her to the rigging chest, we’ll be in the shadows of horseshoe cove shortly until it's time to do the sail past… her husband will realise paying the towns folk their dues is the only way to ensure he can live his idyllic life”

An hour of being chained to the enormous storage chest had given you time to watch the goings on of the ship, the way the men worked together, and you’d learned a thing or two about what had seemed to be your boring and idyllic island life had in fact been a town of corruption and mutiny. Captain Syverson had been a Navy Captain, retired once injured but seemingly now fully healed. Walker had been Infantry with the Fusiliers and was a crack shot with both a pistol and a rifle. Of course you already knew of Constable Marshall, and from eavesdropping the conversations you’d learned that they had scuttled the entire islands ships; anything the gentry owned was out of service and unable to sail. With the fishing fleet having left for open waters at dawn there wasn’t a single seaworthy vessel left on the island. Covert operations had meant the fuses for the island’s canons had all been removed in the dead of night, meaning a quick attack would be out of the question. Captain Syverson planned to sail just out of shot reach of your husbands mansion, the ransom note having already been delivered that morning an hour after your disappearance, and only the sign of a yellow flag being waved would ensure your safe return.

When the dark haired deck hand suddenly came to sit next to you, you were surprised as he started to remove the scarf that still acted as a gag;

“Don’t scream, ok? Capt’n has told me to make sure you drink, he doesn’t want you passing out from thirst”

You nodded and the younger man carefully untied the scarf, before taking the earthenware flagon and lifted it to your lips, the cool ale it held soothing your parched throat. Tipping it a little too much it spilled from your mouth and onto your chest, his eyes going wide in fear;

“I… I can’t touch you… Captain’s orders”

“It’ll dry, its hot out today”

“You’re surprisingly unafraid”

“Should i be afraid?”

He shrugged;

“Dunno. I’m Mikey by the way”

“Aren’t you a little young to be a Pirate?”

Mikey shrugged;

“I guess it was just the inevitable”

Through the conversation that followed you found yourself telling him all about yourself; how your father had basically sold your hand, how your husband was literally only on paper, having far more predilection for the handsome young footman than for you. Mid sentence the Captain’s voice boomed across the deck;

“Mikey! Back to work!”

“Yes Capt’n”

When you heard the bells chime of the church on the hill to say it was noon you were moved, the ship sailing around the side of the island and into position 100ft from the shoreline of your husband’s property. With your arms pulled above your head, you were tied to the base of the mast, the big captain coming to stand at your side, his eyes glancing at your breasts as they threatened to spill from your corset that had become loose and had slid down your ribcage.

“What do you see Walker?”

Peering through the spyglass the moustached man paused before he spoke;

“No yellow flag Captain… wait a moment... they’re using semaphores” He was referring to the message flags that the Navy used to send messages from passing ship to passing ship, each small triangular flag each meaning a different seafaring reference; “Hang on… ‘No duties owed’”

The Captain roared and grabbed the spyglass, peering through before grunting and handing it back;

“Lets see if we can change his mind, eh?”

Pulling his knife from his thigh holster he hooked the blade beneath the stays of your corset, tearing the garment in two and watching as it fell to the deck at your feet, your breasts now on full show and greeted with a wild cheer from the crew. Syverson turned to Walker;

“How about now?”

He peered through the spyglass before letting out a defeated sigh;

“Same again… no duties owed”

“So, he’s sticking to his guns… let’s kick this up a level”

Turning back to you he smirked;

“This ain't personal sweetheart…”

To your surprise the big man started to gather your skirts, your eyes wide as he pulled up your petticoats and his large hand slid between your silky thighs, finding you without your undergarments and he cocked an eyebrow;

“Your men found me before I had dressed fully for the day”

“I ain’t complainin’ sweetheart, makes it easier to find…”

His hand found your petals and you groaned quietly as he discovered you slick and ready, his calloused fingers seeking out your clit before he slid two into your velvet channel, filling you more than your own fingers ever had;

“Tight little thing, aren’t ya? Your husband got a small dick?”

You turned your head to face him, emboldened by the wanton display;

“I wouldn’t know, i’ve never seen it”

The Captain froze;

“Fuck”

His hand stopped, still inside you and you could feel your walls trembling with excitement around his digits as his men approached, Walker and Marshall both having heard your admission;

“Sy… we gotta continue, we’re owed for three months pay from the Lord…”

He nodded to the mansion;

“What’s the message?”

Checking again, Walker sighed;

“Return Cargo. No duties owed”

The Captain roared with anger;

“The fucking bastard! Every single man on this ship is owed half a years wages, and for what? Keeping his idyllic island life”

The look on his face had changed, and you finally saw the Pirate in him as he approached you, wrapping a big hand around the back of your neck and kissing you roughly. When you willingly opened your mouth and your tongue pushed against his it gave him the green light to go ahead, his body pressing you to the mast and you could feel his hardness pressing against the thin layers of your petticoats. With a flurry of hands he pulled your skirts up and unbuttoned his breaches, revealing his fat length, almost as thick as your wrist and patterned with veins.

You may never have lain in the marital bed or known the intimate touch of a man, but you had sought your own pleasure with your fingers and even the occasional candle from your husbands drawing room. But you’d never had anything as large as the Captains throbbing length inside you. You hooked your leg over his hip, pulling him close even though your hands were still tied, and let out a cry of pleasure as his hot flesh speared your soaked cavern.

Syverson ravaged you against the mast, fucking you with such a fury that you could feel your body start to tighten around him, and with a cry you came, pressing your head back against the hard wood, a blissful smile across your face as you had your first ever orgasm that you hadn’t given yourself. You were vaguely aware of him pulling out, fisting his shaft and spilling his seed over your bare thighs, before your skirts were dropped and he was fastening himself back into his breeches;

“Well?” the Captain demanded of his men.

Constable Marshall cleared his throat;

“There’s a new semaphore… Cargo Abandoned”

“HE WHAT?” you spat out, filled with anger that your husband would just leave you to the Pirates.

“Very well” Syverson nodded; “Hoist the mainsail, we sail for Kingstown”

He turned to you whilst addressing his men;

“Get her down and have her taken to my cabin” he turned to you; “You ever sailed before?”

“Spent a decade on spice ships Captain” to which he nodded.

“At least you have your sea legs then”

Mikey had unshackled you and was stripping himself of his vest, helping you to slip it onto your arms so you could cover your naked chest.

“Michael?” the captain boomed; “... find her some of the chests of finery we took from that French vessel a couple of months ago”

“Yes Father”

“He’s your father!?”

Mikey nodded;

“Welcome aboard The Cavillry. We’re like one big family here”

Just then the bow hit a wave as it reached the deeper waters, spray splashing up and soaking you, much to Mikey’s amusement;

“You’ll get used to being wet here”

Part 2 Link HERE

I do not run a tag list, but if you follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, you’ll get an alert every time i post something new.

Masterlist can be found on AO3, link HERE

#henry cavill #captain syverson #captain sy x reader #captain syverson smut #crack fic

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a-edgar-allan-hoe · 3 years

Text

The Red Witch

Jasper Hale x Reader Part 6

A/N: Part 6 is here lovelies! And I hope you all are doing well! 💕

Summary: Imagine being an immortal witch from the Middle Ages and being the previous love of Jasper before he was turned. You two were separated under certain circumstances and cross each other’s path once again, years later in the present era.

Warnings: language

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5

That night you had went to bed early, only to awaken at the crack of dawn the next morning. Today was the day of your performance. You layed there in bed beneath the sheets for a moment with your hands resting on your stomach, staring at the ceiling and pondering on yesterday’s events. Your anxiety had almost cost you your identity, and you did not want that to happen again.

You got out of bed, adjusting your eyes to the dark room and slowly placed your weight on the wooden floor, being careful not to wake Charlotte. You slipped out of your nightgown and into a simple light cotton dress, not even bothering to put on a corset or stockings. You tied a leather belt around your waist before reaching under your pillow to grab your Colt revolver, putting it in your holster. You might need it in case any threatening situation arised. You threw on your lightweight overcoat and left it unbuttoned before lacing up your boots and grabbing your wicker basket, you threw in your Wuthering heights copy and some apples for a light snack.

You carefully opened the door, taking one last look at Charlotte’s sleeping figure before closing it behind you. You exited the inn and glanced around outside, breathing in the cool morning air and relieved to see that no one was up and about yet. You walked a mile out in search of an isolated area with shady trees until you stumbled upon a meadow filled with bluebonnets and Indian paintbrushes. Your eyes lit up at the sight of it and a smile appeared on your face. It was beautiful. The way the flowers spread across the field with the few scattered trees and the morning sun’s rays just barely peeking out over the horizon. It looked like a painting. You eyed the closest tree that stood by itself and made a little jog towards it, your free hair flowing behind you as you ran your fingers along the grass and the flowers. This moment right here reminded you of the very few fortunate days you had as a child when your mother would take you out on a picnic to the english countryside because your father was away on urgent matters. It was a chance to escape the cold stone walls of the castle while he was away. You missed running through the meadows while she chased you around, both of you giggling from delight, free from your father’s tyrannical presence.

When you met your destination, you put your basket down by the tree and took off your boots before plopping down on the grass, taking out your book and reading it as you held it above you. You layed there for a while, your hair splayed out behind you and the skirt of your dress hitched up to your knees, lost in your book, the soft grass, the sweet scent of the flowers, and the cool morning breeze. You’d occasionally stick your bare feet out above the grass, stretching out your legs and toes.

Half an hour of peacefulness had passed by until you heard the sound of hooves in the distance. Your senses became heightened as you sat up, whipping your head around to see a horse in the distance coming in your direction. The rider was hidden from view from where you were crouched down, making you nervous as you backed up against the tree, your hand gripping your colt in case this was some sort of attack. The horse came to a sudden stop before you and turned, allowing you to finally see the rider. It was the same gentleman from yesterday.

“You.” You narrowed your eyes at him while standing up with a balled fist. You were still gripping your pistol and had half a mind to not just hit him with it right there.

“Ma’am.” He tilted his hat at you, his face darkened by the shade his hat provided.

“You’ve damn near ran me over. You know that?”

Bloody plonker.

“Well you look fine to me.”

“And if you had gone a few inces closer I wouldn’t have been fine.” You huffed out, your breathing affected by the thrill of getting nearly trampled over or murdered by a bandit. You didn’t know which was worse.

The man let out a chuckle, shaking his head before eyeing your hand that still clutched the grip of your pistol. “Don’t worry. I’m not gonna hurt ya.”

“And what? I’m supposed to magically believe you?” You scoffed.

“Well you’re welcome to shoot me if I do something to offend you.”

You stood there for a second, making yourself look as if you were contemplating the thought. “Does that include verbal offenses?”

He chuckled again at your remark, dismounting his horse and tying the reins up. “You’ve got quite the attitude on you, you know that? You come from a dishonest place or something?”

You watched him wearily, lowing your guard down. “Dishonest is one way to put it. More like a dodgy hell hole if you ask me.” You thought about all the times you had to fend for yourself against the worst scum of men and even women in the past, especially in the Middle Ages. Only difference was you wielded a sword then instead of a revolver. If there was one thing you had to thank your father for, it was for raising you like a son and teaching you the art of war and the sword. “What are the likes of you doing about here anyways?”

“Well, what’s a lady like you doin round these parts all by yourself at this time of day?” He looked at you.

It was then you had just remembered you weren’t wearing a corset which meant. Shite. Your Belisha Beacons were cage-free. You let in a sharp intake of air and quickly buttoned up your jacket before he’d notice, covering up your chest to add an extra layer to your cotton dress. You were silently praying the wind wouldn’t blow up your skirt and reveal your short drawers and your lack of petticoats and stockings or else you might as well shoot yourself from embarrassment. You almost cursed yourself for a lack of proper dressing and daring to go out like this. But, he just had to show up didn’t he.

“You didn’t answer my question.” You looked up at him, finally noticing his features and my goodness. You didn’t want to admit it but he nearly took your breath away. You found yourself staring at him. That golden blonde hair that looked soft to the touch, the tanned skin, that face, and my goodness those green eyes. You quickly changed your expression into a stern one as he looked at you. You hoped he didn’t catch you staring at him like some toad at a fly. Him being pretty means nothing.

“Neither did you.” He remarks.

“Well I believe I was the one to ask a question first. Now go on, explain yourself.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “You’re not following me are you?”

“No ma’am. Just doing my patrol. Now, what are you doing out here?”

“............reading. As if it’s any of your business.” You lifted your chin before turning away and sitting down with your back against the tree, adjusting your skirt to cover your legs.

“Out here by yourself?”

“Obviously.” You rolled your eyes.

You sat there and glanced up at him still standing there like some kind of meerkat. “Well? Are you just going to stand there and watch the grass grow or are you going to have a seat? It’s not like you’re going to leave me be anytime soon.”

“Is there anywhere you specifically want me to sit, princess?”

You raised a brow at the nickname, wanting to smack that smug look right off his mug.“Whichever pleases you.” You wave your hand about before muttering to yourself. “Bloody fucking hell.”

The man smirked before taking his hat off, sitting down beside you and leaning against the big tree as well. You side glanced at him before scooting away just an inch. He chuckled at your little movement, shaking his head as he rested his arm on his bent knee, fiddling with a strand of grass in his hand.

There was a bit of silence between you two. Your eyes roamed everywhere else but him while his would occasionally glance in your direction. This situation was awkward for you.

“What’s your name soldier?” You asked him as you pulled your basket closer to you and pulled out your gloves, putting them on for precaution. You could feel him watching you with curiosity as you did so.

“Jasper Whitlock ma’am.” He bowed his head to you.

“How long have you been a major?”

“You know my rank?” He quirked his brow at you.

“Well you are wearing a uniform with insignia aren’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Just making sure.”

Jasper sat there with his brows furrowed as he studied your face before popping a question. “You seem to know a lot. You’re always reading. You some kind of genius?”

“Well.” You scoffed. “I wouldn’t quite call myself a genius. Though I have met many in the past. Very interesting individuals I must say. What on earth bothered you to ask a question such as that?”

“I don’t know.” He stared at you. “Your eyes.”

You looked at him gobsmacked before letting out a confused laugh. “My eyes?”

“Well.” Jasper tried to explain himself, feeling embarrassed while straightening up a bit. “When I was younger my ma used to tell me how you could read people’s eyes. How some held wisdom behind them.”

You nodded your head with approval, a small smirk playing on your lips. “Your mother sounds like a wise woman. Though, it completely baffles me that you a ninny like you would be her son.”

“Ninny?” He cocked his head back from the word. “Is that some kind of insult?”

“I’ll let you figure that out on your own.” You gave a short smile before reaching into your basket to grab an apple, holding it out for him.

Jasper studied the apple in your hand before looking up at your blank expression, his brow raised playfully in suspicion. “That’s not poisoned is it?”

“.............maybe.”

“Well that’s not a very encouraging answer.”

“If I wanted you dead you’d already be.”

“Well my apologies Lady Macbeth. I guess I’ll take your word for it. If anything happens-“

“Don’t worry. No one will know.”

“Okay. Here goes.” Jasper chuckled at your strange sense of humor before taking the apple from your gloved hands.

His fingers lingered there on your palm for a brief moment. And even though you were wearing your gloves, you couldn’t help but feel a shiver run down your spine. A part of you wondered what it would feel like if you weren’t wearing your gloves, just your bare hand against his. You stared into his eyes and a blush started to creep on your cheeks before you pulled your hand hastily away, turning your head away from him. You were in complete shambles.

“I’m sorry.” Jasper gave you a pained look as you had your back to him. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“No. You’re quite alright.” You composed yourself before pulling out your pocket watch from your coat pocket, glancing at the time. “Shite. In fact, it’s my fault. I should get going. I have a performance later and I do not want to be wasting your time and mine.”

“Wasting my time?” Jasper sat up once he saw you hurriedly packing your things. “Ma’am, I assure you, you weren’t wasting my time. I enjoyed your company.”

“Well you shouldn’t.” You stood up with your basket as Jasper followed you right after. “I’m sure you have far more important matters to attend to, Major. Good day.”

You turned to walk away only to have Jasper at your heel, making you close your eyes in frustration.

“Wait! At least let me take you safely back to town.”

“No thank you. I managed to get here on my own and I am more than possitive I can make my way back.” You gave him a polite smile before going your way, not even bothering to look back.

Jasper stood there by the tree next to his horse, his heartstrings being pulled at as he watched you disappear from sight. He didn’t know why you reacted in such a harsh way, especially when you seemed to have eased up a bit around him. But he wanted to understand, more than anything.

You marched on back to the inn, wiping away at the lone tear that dare to fall from the corner of your eye. You were upset, filled with distress and fueled with anger for yourself. You had promised yourself not to give in to such feelings and yet here you were. Conversing with a dashing gentleman whom you have found to be tolerable and risking everything being at a close proximity with him. You knew more than anyone the dangers of becoming close with a mortal. You knew more than anyone, what would happen if you were to merely touch a person with your bare hand. You knew more than anyone, that the most simple form of affection, a touch of a hand, a caress on the cheek, a kiss, could never be possible for you.

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#jasper hale #jasper hale imagine #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale x y/n #jasper hale x you #jasper whitlock #jasper whitlock imagine #twilight imagine #twilight imagines #jasper whitlock x reader

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timeless-hollywood-classics · 4 years

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Clara Lou Sheridan (February 21, 1915 – January 21, 1967), known professionally as Ann Sheridan, was an American actress and singer. She worked regularly from 1934 until her death, first in film and later in television. Notable roles include San Quentin (1937) with Pat O'Brien and Humphrey Bogart, Angels with Dirty Faces (1938) with James Cagney and Bogart, They Drive by Night (1940) with George Raft and Bogart, The Man Who Came to Dinner (1942) with Monty Woolley, Kings Row (1942) with Ronald Reagan, Nora Prentiss (1947), and I Was a Male War Bride (1949) with Cary Grant.

Born in Denton, Texas, on February 21, 1915, Clara Lou Sheridan was the daughter of G.W. Sheridan and Lula Stewart Warren Sheridan. According to Sheridan, her father was a great-great-nephew of Civil War Union general Philip Sheridan. She had a sister, Pauline.

She was active in dramatics at Denton High School and at North Texas State Teachers College. She also sang with the college's stage band.

In 1932, she was a student at North Texas State Teachers College when her sister sent a photograph of her to Paramount Pictures. She subsequently entered and won a beauty contest, with part of her prize being a bit part in a Paramount film, The Search for Beauty. She left college to pursue a career in Hollywood.

After making her film debut in 1934, at 19, in Search for Beauty, she played uncredited bit parts in Paramount films for the next two years, starting at $75 a week (equivalent to $1,400 in 2019).

She can be glimpsed in Bolero (1934), Come On Marines! (1934) (billed as "Clara Lou Sheridan"), Murder at the Vanities (1934), Shoot the Works (1934), Kiss and Make-Up (1934), The Notorious Sophie Lang (1934), College Rhythm (1934) (directed by Norman Taurog whom Sheridan admired), Ladies Should Listen (1934), You Belong to Me (1934), Wagon Wheels (1934), The Lemon Drop Kid (1934), Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch (1934), Ready for Love (1934), Limehouse Blues (1934), and One Hour Late (1934).

Sheridan worked with Paramount's drama coach Nina Mouise and performed plays on the lot with fellow contractees, including The Milky Way and The Pursuit of Happiness. When she did The Milky Way, she played a character called Ann and the Paramount front office decided to change her name to "Ann".

Sheridan had a part in Behold My Wife! (1934), which she got at the behest of director Mitchell Leisen, who was a friend. She had two good scenes, one in which her character had to commit suicide. Sheridan attributed Paramount's keeping her for two years to this role.

She followed it with Enter Madame (1935), Home on the Range (1935), and Rumba (1935).

Sheridan's first lead came in Car 99 (1935) with Fred MacMurray. She was in Rocky Mountain Mystery (1935), a Randolph Scott Western. "No acting, it was just playing the lead, that's all", she later said.

She then appeared in Mississippi (1935) with Bing Crosby and W. C. Fields, The Glass Key (1935) with George Raft, and (having one line) The Crusades (1935) with Loretta Young. Paramount lent her out to Talisman, a small production company, to makeThe Red Blood of Courage (1935) with Kermit Maynard. After this, Paramount declined to take up her option.

Sheridan did one film at Universal, Fighting Youth (1935), and then signed a contract with Warner Bros. in 1936.

Sheridan's career prospects began to improve. Her early films for Warner Bros. included Sing Me a Love Song (1936); Black Legion (1937) with Humphrey Bogart; The Great O'Malley (1937) with Pat O'Brien and Bogart, her first real break; San Quentin (1937), with O'Brien and Bogart, singing for the first time in a film; and Wine, Women and Horses (1937) with Barton MacLane.

Sheridan moved into B picture leads: The Footloose Heiress (1937); Alcatraz Island (1937) with John Litel; and She Loved a Fireman (1937) with Dick Foran for director John Farrow. She was a lead in The Patient in Room 18 (1937) and its sequel Mystery House (1938). Sheridan was in Little Miss Thoroughbred (1938) with Litel for Farrow and supported Dick Powell in Cowboy from Brooklyn (1938).

Universal borrowed her for a support role in Letter of Introduction (1938) at the behest of director John M. Stahl. For Farrow, she was in Broadway Musketeers (1938), a remake of Three on a Match (1932).

Sheridan's notices in Letter of Introduction impressed Warner Bros. executives. "Oomph" was described as "a certain indefinable something that commands male interest." and she began to get roles in A pictures, starting with Angels with Dirty Faces (1938), wherein she played James Cagney's love interest; Bogart, O'Brien and the Dead End Kids had supporting roles. The film was a big hit and critically acclaimed.

Sheridan was reunited with the Dead End Kids in They Made Me a Criminal (1938) starring John Garfield. She was third-billed in the Western Dodge City (1939), playing a saloon owner opposite Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland. The film was another notable success.

In March 1939, Warner Bros. announced Sheridan had been voted by a committee of 25 men as the actress with the most "oomph" in America.

She received as many as 250 marriage proposals from fans in a single week. Tagged "The Oomph Girl"—a sobriquet which she reportedly loathed —Sheridan was a popular pin-up girl in the early 1940s. (On the other hand, a February 25, 1940, news story distributed by the Associated Press reported that Sheridan no longer "bemoaned the 'oomph' tag." She continued, "But I'm sorry now. I know if it hadn't been for 'oomph' I'd probably still be in the chorus.")

Sheridan co-starred with Dick Powell in Naughty but Nice (1939) and played a wacky heiress in Winter Carnival (1939).

She was top billed in Indianapolis Speedway (1939) with O'Brien and Angels Wash Their Faces (1939) with O'Brien, the Dead End Kids and Ronald Reagan. Castle on the Hudson (1940) put her opposite Garfield and O'Brien.

Sheridan's first real starring vehicle was It All Came True (1940), a musical comedy co starring Bogart and Jeffrey Lynn. She introduced the song "Angel in Disguise".

Sheridan and Cagney were reunited in Torrid Zone (1940) with O'Brien in support. She was with George Raft, Bogart and Ida Lupino in They Drive by Night (1940), a trucking melodrama. Sheridan was back with Cagney for City for Conquest (1941) and then made Honeymoon for Three (1941), a comedy with George Brent.

Sheridan did two lighter films: Navy Blues (1941), a musical comedy, and The Man Who Came to Dinner (1941), wherein she played a character modeled on Gertrude Lawrence. She then made Kings Row (1942), in which she received top billing playing opposite Ronald Reagan, Robert Cummings, and Betty Field. It was a huge success and one of Sheridan's most memorable films.

Sheridan and Reagan were reunited for Juke Girl (1942). She was in the war film Wings for the Eagle (1942) and made a comedy with Jack Benny, George Washington Slept Here (1943). She played a Norwegian resistance fighter in Edge of Darkness (1943) with Errol Flynn and was one of the many Warners stars who had cameos in Thank Your Lucky Stars (1943).

She was the heroine of a novel, Ann Sheridan and the Sign of the Sphinx, written by Kathryn Heisenfelt and published by Whitman Publishing Company in 1943. While the heroine of the story was identified as a famous actress, the stories were entirely fictitious. The story was probably written for a young teenaged audience and is reminiscent of the adventures of Nancy Drew. It is part of a series known as "Whitman Authorized Editions", 16 books published between 1941 and 1947 that always featured a film actress as heroine.

Sheridan was given the lead in the musical Shine On, Harvest Moon (1944), playing Nora Bayes, opposite Dennis Morgan. She was in a comedy The Doughgirls (1944).

Sheridan was absent from screens for over a year, touring with the USO to perform in front of the troops as far afield as China. She returned in One More Tomorrow (1946) with Morgan. She had an excellent role in the noir Nora Prentiss (1947), which was a hit. It was followed by The Unfaithful (1948), a popular remake of The Letter, and Silver River (1948), a Western melodrama with Errol Flynn.

Leo McCarey borrowed her to support Gary Cooper in Good Sam (1948). She was meant to star in Flamingo Road. She then left Warner Bros., saying: "I wasn't at all satisfied with the scripts they offered me."

Her role in I Was a Male War Bride (1949), directed by Howard Hawks and co-starring Cary Grant, was another success. In 1950, she appeared on the ABC musical television series Stop the Music.

She made Stella (1950), a comedy with Victor Mature at Fox.

In April 1949, she announced she wanted to produce Second Lady, a film based on a story by Eleanor Griffin. She was going to make Carriage Entrance at RKO. They fired her and Sheridan sued for $250,000.

Sheridan made Woman on the Run (1950), a noir, which she did produce. She wanted to make a film called Her Secret Diary.

Woman on the Run was distributed by Universal, and Sheridan signed a contract with that studio. While there, she made Steel Town (1952), Just Across the Street (1952), and Take Me to Town (1953), a comedy directed by Douglas Sirk.

Sheridan supported Glenn Ford in Appointment in Honduras (1953), directed by Jacques Tourneur. She appeared opposite Steve Cochran in Come Next Spring (1956) and was one of several stars in MGM's The Opposite Sex (1956). Her last film, The Woman and the Hunter, was shot in Africa.

She went to New York to appear in a Broadway show, but it did not make it to Broadway.

She did stage tours of Kind Sir (1958) and Odd Man In (1959), and The Time of Your Life at the Brussels World Fair in 1958. In all three shows, she acted with Scott McKay, whom she later married.

In 1962, she played the lead in "The Mavis Grant Story" on the Western series Wagon Train.

In the mid-1960s, Sheridan appeared on the NBC soap opera Another World.

Her final work was a TV series of her own, a comedy Western entitled Pistols 'n' Petticoats, which was filmed during the year before her death and was broadcast on CBS on Saturday nights. The 19th episode of the series, "Beware the Hangman", aired, as scheduled, on the same day that she died.

For her contributions to the motion picture industry, Ann Sheridan has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame at 7024 Hollywood Boulevard.

Sheridan married actor Edward Norris August 16, 1936, in Ensenada, Mexico. They separated a year later and divorced in 1939. On January 5, 1942, she married fellow Warner Bros. star George Brent, who co-starred with her in Honeymoon for Three (1941). They divorced exactly one year later. Following her divorce from Brent, she had a long-term relationship with publicist Steve Hannagan, that lasted until his death in 1953. Hannagan's estate bequeathed Miss Sheridan $218,399 ($2.1 million in current dollars). On June 5, 1966, she married actor Scott McKay, who was with her when she died, six months later.

In 1966, Sheridan began starring in a new television series, a Western-themed comedy called Pistols 'n' Petticoats. She became ill during the filming and died of gastroesophageal cancer with massive liver metastases at age 51 on January 21, 1967, in Los Angeles. She was cremated and her ashes were stored at the Chapel of the Pines Crematory in Los Angeles until they were interred in a niche in the Chapel Columbarium at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery in 2005.

#ann sheridan #classic movie stars #golden age of hollywood #old hollywood

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buckitybarnes · 5 years

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Sticks, Stones, and Broken Bones [Eventual Bucky x enhanced!Reader] 1

Summary: When the Avengers catch wind of a HYDRA swarm at a local middle school, they’re there to see what’s up. What they find is beyond them. She’s mature for her age, she’s spunky and ready to bring the bad guys down to their knees, and most of all...she’s looking for her mom. They only want to help, but there are too many sides to this war, and very few you can trust. Bucky makes it a little more complicated when he experiences sympathy and becomes attached.

Warnings/Themes: violence/gore, Mentions of death, angst, fluff, Dad!Bucky, Reader is not the real mom, Nice uncle stevie and gang, Soft boi, humor, profanity, Mentions of a terrorist attack/school attack.

Author’s Note: For Bucky’s 102nd birthday, I give y’all a gift of starting a new dad!Bucky series because he makes me soft. This time, with a kid that’s as equally as sassy as mommy reader. This chapter has been looked over only once for spelling/errors, so keep that in mind.

Last Chapter

Buy me a Ko-fi?

Chapter 1: Mable and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

They’re coming for her. They’re going to take her away and they’re going to kill her. Open your fucking door and help me, [Y/N]!

Quickly, you throw the dishcloth onto the counter. With one glance out your window from the kitchen sink, you pause in confusion. It’s a sunny day out. No clouds. No rain. And most importantly, no murderous government agents running around the streets of Uptown New York.

“Slow down, Jeanie, what the hell are you talking about? Who’s ‘her?’ and who the fuck are ‘they?’”

Before you hear her voice through the phone, frantic knocking at your door cuts the conversation short. You hear your sister-in-law’s voice muffled behind it. “[Y/N], please! There’s no time!”

Taking a pistol hidden in the back of your knife drawer, you tuck it into your pants and rush to the entrance. You unlatch the four locks and swing it open, ready for a fight.

Only, it was just Jeanie and a bundle of blankets in her arms.

“Jean, what the hell –“

She shoves the bundle towards you and yanks open her purse, pulling out a suspiciously large amount of cash. Whatever is in the blanket is heavy and begins to wail. Realizing it was a child, your niece to be exact, you readjust your hold on her, bouncing ever so slightly to try to calm her down. You weren’t good with babies. You never had been.

Jeanie was panicking. She was wearing her pink nightgown, slightly torn and burned at the hem. Tears roll down her cheeks and her eyes widen as she realizes the weight of the situation. Without a moment to spare, she inserts the wad of cash into your front pocket and nervously glances down at her child.

“I love you, baby, I promise I’ll see you soon,” she whispers brokenly, giving her a kiss on the forehead. When Jeanie glances back up at you, her bottom lip shakes. “The family safe house. You need to go there now – everything’ll be clearer, I promise, but you need to get the hell out of here. They’re coming to take Mable away and I need her to be safe. You of all people would know how to –” she whips her head around, thinking she’s heard approaching footsteps. Pulling the door to hide you, she keeps it open just a crack to finish. “They know, [Y/N],” she cries. “They know about her, and I didn’t know who else to go to –”

Realization dawns on you and you hold the baby closer to your chest. “What about my brother?”

The haunting look behind her eyes makes your blood run cold.

They’ve got him. He’s gone.

And if you don’t act soon, so will you, Mable, and Jeanie.

You swallow quickly and nod. “I’ve got her. I’ll keep her safe.”

She smiles softly, sniffling back more tears.

A barrage of stomping pulls both of your attention.

“I can buy you time,” she starts.

“Jeanie --”

“Get the hell out of here, [Y/N]!” she snaps, slamming the door shut.

You don’t know what to do. You haven’t used your powers in so long, but you’re willing to try to save her.

Men shout on the other side and Jeanie laughs bitterly.

“You’re too late!” she announces, and from the slam, you can tell she’s barricaded the entrance with her body.

She was risking her life for Mable, and if you didn’t leave now, this would all be a waste.

Setting the baby down on the couch for a split second, you scramble over to the coat closet and pull out your emergency backpack. Very quickly, you shove the money inside along with your weapon. Whatever clothes that had already been packed will last you a few days,

Bam!

The sound of a gunshot rings through the air, and silence follows right after.

Your heart beats faster, throat closing and stomach twisting in nausea.

“Time to fucking go,” you growl, throwing the bag over your shoulder. As Mable begins to cry, you pick her up and make a beeline for the window.

Down below, you see black SUVs and armed men on the streets. As people grow curious, they point weapons in their direction and threaten them to take a step closer.

You could climb down and get shot, risk running back through the front door, or…climb.

Pulling open the window and slashing the screen with your pocket knife, you take a deep breath. “Certainly not what I wanted to do today,” you mutter, hopping silently onto the fire escape. Mable was making this difficult with her squirming and whimpering. You had no other choice.

“Alright sweetheart, it’s time to bounce,” you mumble, side-stepping away from the open window. At this point, the door has been busted open, and they’re closing in on you.

Distraction. You need a distraction.

Oh god, you hope that your powers don’t fail you now.

You focus on the police car parked a few feet away. Your head begins to spin a little, eyes water in pain. Focus. Focus. Focus. Mable begins to reach for you for comfort, a small cry escapes her lips. Yet, you can’t hear her. All is quiet for a few moments.

When you snap back into focus, the siren of the car blares loudly, lights blinking and coloring the ground. Then, it combusts into flames, sending the crowd of people scurrying in panic. It’s utter chaos below. Powerlines have been struck down as a result of your recklessness and you know that a few have been injured.

A man shouts orders to the guards, gesturing for them to follow.

As soon as they run towards the explosion, you bolt the opposite direction, climbing down one ramp at a time.

“Alright, sweetheart, time to bounce,” you mutter quietly, ruffling the girl’s hair. “You got your lunch money?”

Mable pouts, eyebrows knit in frustration. “I told you I don’t wanna go.” She grabs your hand to still it, preventing you from pulling away. “This isn’t fair!”

“Oooh, is someone starting to lash out? I didn’t think you’d still be going through puberty,” you smirk, fixing her loose scarf. “It’s seventh grade --”

“At a new school,” she grumbles. “Again.”

You ignore the statement, standing up to your full height and sighing in exasperation. “What’s the worse that can happen? They make fun of you because your name makes you sound like you’re ninety-eight?” When her face falls, you quickly shake your head. It’s been twelve years and you’re still not good at parenting. “Which isn’t true, obviously. All the cool kids are named Mable nowadays.”

“I hate you.” A small grin behind her words brings a bit of relief into your system.

“And I love you, I’ll see you after work, okay?” you laugh. Before she pulls away, you call out to her. “And remember --”

“Don’t talk to strangers and if I see a big guy in a uniform, run, I got it,” she deadpans, brushing you off. “Don’t you have crap to be doing?”

“Excuse me!” you shout. A passerby on the street looks your way. You know it seems comical that a grown-ass lady is yelling at a little girl who doesn’t seem fazed one bit. “Language!”

She only smirks, waving you goodbye. “You know, you and Captain America would be best friends!”

That cheeky little shit. You needed to start signing permission slips to opt her out of watching ‘Rappin with Cap.’

You watch her leave, her mittened hands shoved into her petticoat. She looks both ways before crossing the street, and you can’t help but feel a bit proud in that moment. If Jeanie were here to see this….

You frown.

You wish Jeanie were here to see this.

“Excuse me miss?”

You turn around to see a man with graying hair. He smiles kindly before taking his hat off. “Do you think you could point me to Centre’s Bookshop? I’m not from around here, but I heard it’s popular with the locals.”

You smile back, nodding in his direction. “It’s a little confusing. I can walk you there though since I’m headed in that direction.”

For a moment, his eyebrows shoot up. “Really? I appreciate that very much. I’ll try to keep up,” he jokes, following right behind you.

“What kinda books are you into, Mister….?”

“Pathlocke. Doctor Pathlocke,” he answers without missing a beat. He holds his briefcase closer to his side, clearly not fond of the tight sidewalks in the city. “And I need a few anatomy references for research and whatnot.”

You turn the corner onto a quieter road.

“Oh, that’s awesome! Are you a professor --”

When you turn around, he has his heavy briefcase lifted in the air. He sends you a menacing smirk before slamming a metal corner into the side of your head.

At first, you feel nothing, the shock overcoming your senses. You blink in confusion before your ear starts to ring and you see double. You press your hand against your temple, and when you pull it down to your face, you see the crimson red of your own blood.

“A professor?” he repeats calmly. “No, I’m a little more elaborate than that.”

You open your mouth to speak when he pulls something from his pocket. A syringe. He yanks the cap off with his teeth and sinks the needle into your neck.

It goes quiet. the world around you sinks. Soon enough, you're falling.

It’s the same, boring routine. No matter how many schools she’s transferred to -- and she’s been to quite a few -- it’s always the same. She really wishes she faked illness and got to stay home today.

“Class, this is Mable [Y/L/N], she’ll be joining us this year. I’d like you all to give her a warm welcome! Mable, do you wanna introduce yourself?”

She huffs in annoyance, messing with one of her pigtails.

You always said not to give away too much. There were bad people in this world after her, and she needed to lay low as much as she could. ‘Only the basics,’ you’d warn.

“I like Captain America,” she shrugs. “All superheroes, really”

“Don’t we all,” the teacher laughs, knowing that she’s had her fair share of fantasizing what life would be like if Steve Rogers strolled into her classroom one day. Of course, the kids didn’t have to know that. “Do you have any hobbies? Play any sports?”

‘The last time I played baseball, I got mad and broke a boy’s arm,’ she recalls. “Uhm...I like to draw...and watch TV. No sports.”

Her shy tone causes a few kids to snicker in her direction. Her face burns with red-hot embarrassment, but she tries her best to brush it off. “Can I sit down now?”

Not quite sensing her discomfort, the teacher shrugs. “Of course you can. And with that, let's begin today’s lesson.”

Mable likes to pretend she’s Charlie Brown from time to time. To her, the teachers sound like they’re constantly chanting ‘wah, wah, wah, wah.” If she told you, you’d be highly disappointed in her, but to be honest, she’s very good at winging tests. You’d never really find out about it.

Something breaks the white noise. The walls begin to tremble, the chalk on the board begins to clatter against the ledge. Her new classmates look around in utter confusion and she notices her teacher freeze in fear.

This wasn’t apart of the usual. This was odd.

The intercom turns on and the principal, trying his best to sound calm (but even Mable can hear the shake of his voice), calls out.

“This is a code red. Lockdown. I repeat lockdown.” He begins breathing heavy, shuffling heard behind the microphone. “Teachers, get your students to immediate --” His voice is cut off with a loud ‘wham!’ before all is silent.

Mable’s teacher is quick to yank down the blinds of her door, she looks around before ushering everyone into the back supply closet. “Everybody be quiet and stay down, please!” she demands, locking up all exits. She prays underneath her breath, and Mable’s heart begins to beat wildly out of her chest.

“What’s going on, Mrs.Hilde?” a stocky redheaded boy asks. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Can I go call my mom?”

Slamming behind the door causes everyone to jump and the teacher vehemently shakes her head, closing everyone inside the closet. She purposefully blocks the door with her body. “No. No one leaves this room until we’re cleared, okay? I need you guys to stay as quiet as possible!” she makes a “lock-and-key” motion over her mouth and silently begs the kids to follow.

“Open the fuck up! I know you’re in there! You’re hiding the girl!” a loud man shouts from outside.

Mable tears up, huddling against the far back wall. Her classmates pack together tightly, all eyes on their teacher for further instruction.

She feels an odd sense of deja vu, but she’s never experienced something like this before. Who were they and who are they looking for?

“Suit yourself...szhech' eto mesto.”

One last slam happens before footsteps come marching inside. Mable hears whimpering and sobbing from the kids around her. Still, she sees her teacher remain standing where she was, ready to give up her life if needed. It’s hot, insanely hot, and the bottom of the door lights up orange. For a moment, Mable’s teacher loses her composure, panic apparent in her eyes. “They’re gonna fucking cook us,” she chokes out, clenching her jaw. She needed to think fast, needed a game plan.

The high temperatures, nausea, and fear rolling off of the room create a terrifying stench like no other. It awakens something in Mable. She can stop this. She knows she can. Even with anxiety coursing through her veins, she stands from her spot, wobbling forward toward the older woman. “I can help, I can make them go away,” she whispers.

Mrs.Hilde has never seen such burning determination in a child’s eyes before, and she certainly didn’t expect to see it now, of all times. She shakes her head, smiling nervously. “I know you’re a strong girl, Mable, but this isn’t --”

“They’re in there!” another man outside shouts and the teacher bites down on her tongue, turning to face the door. She braces herself for whatever happens next.

But before they could open it, Mable steps in front of her, squeezing herself between the door and Mrs.Hilde.

“Mable! Stop --”

The lock is shot and the door is swung open, revealing a man clad in black. He aims his machine gun at the woman but then brings it down to Mable.

“There you are,” he snickers.

When the teacher reaching to pull Mable back, she’s pushed by the girl herself. Mable remains where she is, trembling but glaring murderous daggers up at the man. ‘When I see a big guy in a uniform, run,’ she mentally reminds herself, but something keeps her here, ready to fight. She’ll protect her classmates, and if not, she’ll die trying. It’s what you would be proud of.

“I’m gonna count to 3, sweetheart, and you’re gonna step out nice and slowly. We won’t hurt your friends in the pro --”

He flinches, choking on his own tongue. His breath grows rapid, staring down at Mable, whose eyes are now a wild magenta. He feels his gut twist and he cries in agony. “Y-you -- agh!” He coughs, a metallic taste filling his mouth. A bone inside him snaps, and it’s audible to everyone within a few feet radius. After a few seconds of struggling to breathe, he finally grows limp and falls to the ground.

Mable surveys the area and decides that the other soldiers are probably deeper in the school looking for their target. The classroom is now set ablaze and the building was beginning to collapse on its own. She notes the one door on the side that leads to the back parking lot. She turns, only to be met by a petrified closet full of classmates and her teacher.

“H-how….” her teacher squeaks, taking a large step back from the girl.

She sighs. Time to move to yet another school.

Unfazed by their terror, she takes a step out into the classroom. “You need to get everyone away, now, Mrs.Hilde,” she instructs. “Now!”

Hilde can argue with the crazy notion, but she’s seen enough strange shit today. She hurriedly commands everyone in the closet to follow her in an orderly fashion, trying not to gag at the dead body she has to pass on the way out.

Mable watches everyone head out, but something catches her eye immediately.

“Watch out!” She lunges forward, but it’s too late.

One of the ceiling beams screeches as it gives way, dropping quickly and slamming into a boy. He shrieks in pain as it pins his right leg to the ground.

Mable groans in frustration, running to him and barking orders for Hilde to continue on. “I’ve got him, go!”

“What hell do you mean, you’ve got him?!”

“You’re wasting time, Mrs.Hilde. I know what I’m doing!”

“This is fucking crazy,” she shouts, but yet another beam falls, this time, blocking her path to the two children. She gives one last look to Mable, who only smiles softly.

Oh, she’s so going to hell for this. Finally listening to Mable’s orders, she follows the rest of the class outside.

“I want my mom!” the boy cries, trying to pry the heavy material off of his leg. Mable stops him from straining himself further, shaking her head. “You’ll be okay…” she murmurs. In reality, she doesn’t believe her own words.

Where the hell were you? Surely, the news would have said something about this by now, and you being the raging mom who would walk through the depths of hell to protect her, well, you’d be here in a heartbeat.

Behind the crackle of flames, she can hear engines whirr and a cacophony of gunshots. She tries to muster up every bit of bravery and steps in front of her classmate to shield him just as her teacher did earlier. She broke a few bones of a man, she can break a few more.

“Everyone’s out, Steve, we’ve got them….all….” a voice echoes throughout the hall. Footsteps grow louder until they come to a screeching halt in front of the classroom entrance.

A tall bulky man stands with nervousness in his eyes. His mouth gapes slightly as he lowers his rifle and takes a step inside. Upon further inspection, Mable notices that his left arm is completely metal.

One of the bad guys, she thinks.

“Steve, scratch that,” he says into his earpiece. “There’s a kid here, I’ve gotta get her out.” When Mable holds up her hand to stop him, he breathes out a shaky sigh. “It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise,” he says softly. “My name is Bucky, I’m an Avenger.”

“You’re lying,” she mutters coldly.

Bucky glances past her shoulder and holds his breath when he sees a boy trapped underneath rubble. He’s got to admit that this girl’s got spunk sacrificing her life like this. Without hesitation, he drops his gun and holds out his hands in surrender. “I swear to you, I’m only trying to help. He’s going to bleed out if we don’t get him help.”

“I’m going to what?!” the boy yelps, squirming underneath and sobbing.

Bucky seems like a trustworthy man, but Mable takes precaution. She drags the gun away from Bucky, visibly struggling to hold it since it’s so heavy. Nodding her head over to the boy, she frowns. “Help him.”

Bucky doesn’t waste a second. He kneels down beside the beam, slips both hands underneath it, and lifts. His muscles bulge as he pulls it out of the way.

Mable had been too busy watching him to notice another presence entering the room.

“What took ya so long, punk?” Bucky grunts, dropping the beam. It lands onto the ground with a loud thump.

A man she’s seen before, Captain America, steps into plain view in all his spandex glory. He assesses the damage before pursing his lips. “Sorry, we were backed up by a few of them upstairs. You carry the girl out, I’ll help the boy. The paramedics should be here any minute.”

Mable can’t help but stare at her favorite hero in awe. She yelps in surprise, feeling two strong arms lift her up in the air. Instinctively, she latches onto Bucky’s shoulders, glaring up at him at the surprise. He merely grins down at her. “C’mon, let’s get you out of here, okay?”

She scoffs.

“This one’s feisty as hell, she unarmed me in a matter of seconds,” Bucky quips. Captain America merely rolls his eyes, leaving his friend to rescue the boy.

“Not my fault you’re weak,” Mable murmurs, lifting herself slightly in his arms to look over his shoulder and watch Steve Rogers at work.

She feels Bucky’s chest rumble in laughter. He’s out of the classroom in a few long strides. Captain America was now out of view, and what remains of her school’s hallway is revealed. Lockers are thrown open, a water fountain spews out water onto the floor, and what appears to be blood is pooled around.

Bucky hears the slight whimper coming from Mable as she stares at the wreck. He hugs her a bit closer, speeding up in his walk. “What’s your name?” he tries to ask in distraction.

She buries her face in the crook of his neck. “Mable,” she murmurs.

He hums in appreciation. “What a nice name. I knew a lady named Mable once. Made the best apple pies in Brooklyn.”

Mable looks up to ask him what the hell he’s going on about, but flinches when she sees someone down the hall. They’re wearing the same uniform as her earlier attacker. “Bucky, there’s someone coming!” she shouts, ducking her head and squinting her eyes.

Bucky’s quick to shield her with his metal arm. He holds her head close to his shoulder as he spins around.

“Fucking, shit,” he curses, seeing the HYDRA emblem on the soldier’s chest. He backs up quickly, scanning the area for cover, but the agent is already closing in. His gun’s out and aimed towards the two.

Mable can sense the absolute dread that makes Bucky’s stomach drop. When he tries to turn his back to the agent and pulls her head closer to the center of his chest, she resists and peers over his shoulder.

“Kid, what the hell --”

Mable’s eyes glow pink for the second time today. She feels her heartbeat pick up as she focuses on the sprinting form.

Within seconds, the form cries out in pain and slumps to the ground, his neck twisted in an uncomfortable way.

Bucky stumbles to a stop, looking over his shoulder in bewilderment and then back at Mable in realization.

She smiles weakly, her head feeling light.

“Holy fuck,” he mumbles, watching as her head hits his shoulder in unconsciousness.

137 notes · View notes

oldshowbiz · 5 years

Photo

Pistols n’ Petticoats starred Ann Sheridan and Kim Fowley’s dad

#sitcoms #Douglas Fowley #Kim Fowley #Ann Sheridan

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sundry-whovengerslocked · 5 years

Text

WVL - Chapter One - Maple Sugar

((A/N: the dashes --- indicate a change in time or perspective. Also this first chapter is reaaaallly long, the story was split up how it seemed it should naturally))

BZZZ BZZZ BZZZ

Abby groaned, flipping over in the bed that she shared with her best friend, Sam. Well, they weren't exactly best friends, more like sisters. She reached over to grab her vibrating phone, and turned off the alarm. It was time for her to go to her first job, a part-time journalist for the Boston Globe. It wasn't that big of a status, but it paid well.

So Abby got up and put on her red-brown glasses, being careful not to wake Sam. Throwing her long brown hair up in a ponytail, she dressed into some dark jeans, a green long-sleeved shirt, and lastly a pair of over-sized black converse she had gotten from charity. They were men's size, but as long as she tied them up tight enough, they were fine. Plus, they were cute.

Abby then walked into the kitchen, grabbed some eggs from the fridge, and began to make an omelette for Sam and herself. She had practically forced vegetarianism upon her, because it was healthier and generally cheaper, so really the only protein they got were eggs, nuts, and beans.

A little while after cooking and eating, she left, putting on her expensive white petticoat she had left from her mother's belongings. She also grabbed her father's old camera, her purse, her press badge, and her notebook on her way out.

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Sam awoke to the smell of cooked eggs, and pulled her tired body out of bed. She slid her feet into her fuzzy tan slippers, and rubbed her arms to keep warm. It was chilly this morning, with Autumn creeping in. Upon the table in their tiny kitchen, was an omelet, still warm, resting on a small white plate. Sam licked her lips, knowing Abby had made it for her before she left. How sweet.

Getting a fork out of the drawer under the microwave, Sam also poured herself a glass of orange juice. She sat down at her normal spot, facing the window that overlooked the city. As she dined on the meatless breakfast that her best friend made, she thought over what she needed to do today. Shopping was the main priority. They needed more fruit.

As much as Sam did love all the healthy alternatives she'd converted to, she did occasionally miss having meat. Not enough to turn back though, veggie burgers were good too.

Finished with her food, Sam dabbed her face with a napkin, and stood to rinse her dish.

Next step was changing her clothes: a large red sweater with black leggings. Her hair cut off at the shoulders, just barely brushing the shirt. She'd straightened it the night before, and brushed through it this morning. Lastly, she drew a thin layer of eye liner in her top lid, and some mascara on her lashes. It seemed as though her little freckled face lit up when she looked at herself in the mirror, ready for the day.

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Abby on the other hand, she wasn't wearing any makeup.

She was walking towards her office building, taking some shortcuts along alleyways she knew, since they didn't have a car. It also wasn't that much use to get a cab, too much money and not that far away. So walking to work was a great way to get exercise.

Only a few things were on Abby's mind as she hiked along, mainly wondering about the universe. Ever since the events in New York a few years ago, there was no denying aliens existed, no matter how hard the government tried to cover it up. The same went for what had been happening in London the last decade. Her whole life Abby believed in other worlds, even just for the sake of believing. But for now, everything was quiet. Most decided to just forget about it, just be wary, but Abby didn't want to do that.

So she was thinking about other life, about the impossible universe, when she suddenly smacked face-first into something. Letting out a groan, she took a step back and rubbed her nose. "Why do I always do that?" she muttered to herself.

She always had her head in the clouds, and was usually clumsy. But not this clumsy. She had run into a big blue box, about the size of a telephone booth you see in England, but without the glass; it was solid and wooden. How Abby missed it, she didn't know.

But she became curious, and began to inspect it. At the top, it said POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX in big letters. She saw two windows at the top and wooden panels running down it.

But before Abby could walk around the box and look at it further, she suddenly heard a very faint noise behind her; a pebble skittering across the ground. She froze, and thought back. Abby had thought she had felt a presence behind her while she was walking, but wasn't paying attention because of her daydreaming. It was then she realized: someone had been following her.

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Sam took a left turn on the road down to the local market, hearing a plane soar overhead from the Logan Airport a few miles away. She'd always been so fascinated with planes and runways, ever since she was young.

Suddenly, a crash in the building beside her pulled her from the gaze she had placed on that plane. SMASH! SMASH! Whatever was in there, it was making a lot of noise.

Sam's instincts kicked in, and she immediately found herself taking step after step into this large brick building.

The banging continued as she entered, making it relatively easy to find the source of it.

The scream of a man sounded down the hall, causing Sam to jerk her head towards it.

She followed the crashing that slowly turned into rough taps, making her way into a rectangular office-like room. No, not an office, some sort of science lab.

Sam stepped over the broken pieces of glass, making no noise at all. She saw a blue liquid spilled onto the floor, and came over to examine it. The sizzle made her think she probably shouldn't touch it.

But then, there it was: the sound of someone breathing heavily. She turned to see a body. A man's body dressed in a torn white lab coat, blood on his hands and arms. Thank God, he wasn't dead. Sam wouldn't have known what to do. Even now, she was a little unsure.

Crazy thing was, she could have sworn she had seen this man before. Maybe he was one of Abby's old friends? His brown hair and tanned skin just looked so familiar.

------------------------------------

Abby was panicking. She had no idea what this person was going to do to her. What they wanted with her.

That was, until she saw his face.

He wore a hat, a dark hoodie, ripped jeans, and old sneakers breaking at the seams. He didn't wear a mask or anything, no, just a scowl. He was just a common thief.

Abby looked into his eyes, and saw his story. She knew that sadness: he had to be an orphan. Grubby and dirty: homeless. Skinny: had to steal for food.

Poor guy, she thought, immediately feeling his emotions. He looked angry and intimidating, but in reality he was so, so frightened.

A pistol was in his hand, but it was shaking.

Once Abby had turned around and saw him, he had pointed the gun at her. At first she put up her hands, but once she took him in she put them down.

He sneered at this; "Don't move! Give me your valuables!" He'd done this quite a few times before, she could tell, but he didn't like it one bit.

Then, Abby suddenly reached for her camera. Alarmed, the man cocked his gun, and shouted; "I said DON'T MOVE!" However, Abby just ignored him and snapped a picture of the thief.

"Now," she said, "this can go one of two ways. One; you can take all of my stuff, and I won't put up a fight. Well, everything other than my necklace." She put her hand to her chest for a minute, wrapping her fingers around her intricate key pendant, then continued talking. "It means a lot to me, and I doubt it's worth much. But you seem like the kind of person to respect sentiment, so we probably won't have to worry about that. Anyways, like I was saying, you can take my things without a fight, but I'll have to turn that picture I just took of you in to the police."

The man gave her a quizzical look.

"Oh, and it's uploaded to the Cloud, so..." she smirked, pointing up at the sky.

She took a deep breath next, tugging on her white coat as she looked at him. "Or, we can settle this a different way."

The man simply stared.

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It seemed as though Sam had waited hours for this man to wake up, but when he finally did, it wasn't what she expected. He didn't see her at first, he just opened his eyes and took a few calming breaths. Sam took a step closer. "Are you alright?" she asked.

The man jumped to his feet rather impressively, all the colour leaving his face. "Stay away." He mumbled. "Stay away from me. I don't want to hurt you." This sounded like more of a request than a warning. She stepped closer. "Please." He cried out, backing away.

Sam continued inching closer until she could touch him. Her hands placed themselves on top of his shoulders and a comforting look appeared on her face. "I'm not going anywhere." She assured him, having to tilt her head back a bit to look up at him. "Are you alright?" she repeated her previous question.

He looked down at the broken glass on the floor, biting his lip. "How long have you been here?" Now he was asking the questions.

Sam thought for a second, shrugging. It had felt like she was waiting forever. "Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes?" She guessed.

"What's your name?" The man asked just before Sam did.

"Sam Watson." She beamed, removing her hands from his shoulders and sticking out one for him to shake.

He managed a smile, then said; "I'm Bruce Banner."

------------------------------------

Meanwhile Abby had befriended the robber. "Who are you?" He had asked. "Holmes," she answered. "Abbygale Alexis Holmes."

At this he furrowed his eyebrows, he didn't have any electronics but still managed to get to the library computer once in a while, and could swear he had heard this name somewhere before.

"Thomas Brekenridge," he responded. Abby smiled at this, she didn't expect him to tell her his name, but she did have a very trusting face, after all.

It was then that Abby remembered the gun. "Could you maybe put the gun down?" She asked. "They make me very uncomfortable," she swallowed, pushing down a flashback.

Thomas nodded, unloading the gun and throwing it down on the ground.

That was when he looked up and finally noticed the police box. "What's that?" he asked. Remembering what she was doing before he showed up, she let her camera hang around her neck once again and turned back to the wooden structure. "I don't know," she said.

That was when the man stepped out from behind the box.

------------------------------------

Sam tightened her jacket around herself. She had started helping Bruce clean up the mess all around the lab. White rubber gloves covered her hands to protect her from touching potentially dangerous chemicals.

Bruce had gone to get himself some bandages and some clean clothes, and hadn't been back for a while. Sam shot her head up when she heard someone calling for him. This obviously female voice was hollering his name not too far down the hallway.

Sam pulled off the gloves and desperately tried to hide, squeezing herself into a storage closet in the back of the room. Inside it, she nearly screamed at the plastic skeleton that fell on top of her. CRASH! It fell to the ground, along with a mop and a box of trash bags.

"Shit." Sam muttered to herself quietly, trying to pick it up.

"Bruce?" The voice was now very close. Whoever it was, they were in the room. "Where are you, big guy?"

From what Sam could see through the gap of the door, this woman was tall and slim, with short red hair. Very red hair ...and Sam thought her own hair was red. The woman wore an all black bodysuit, black combat boots and a black leather jacket. The lack of colour brought out her white skin and plump, pink lips.

"I'm here!" Bruce's voice sounded from down the hall, relieving Sam immensely.

"Natasha, hey." He tried sounding casual, but looked around the room at the same time, searching for his new acquaintance.

"What happened?" This so called Natasha asked.

"What? Um, nothing." He bent down to look under the lab table, then seemed to have spotted something. Sam's bracelet. It must have fallen off when she was removing the gloves. She grabbed at her wrist, disappointed to find it bare.

Natasha walked over to him as he picked up the green and blue twist design bracelet off the floor. "So you didn't have another attack?" she asked.

Attack? Sam was confused, watching the two of them intently through the gap. Bruce got up, wiping off his pants. "Oh, um. Yeah, I did. But it was nothing," he assured her, still occasionally peeking in certain places.

"It's never nothing, Bruce. Why didn't you call someone?" Natasha was obviously concerned.

"Because somebody already came." He picked up Sam's gloves.

"Where are they now?"

Bruce straightened out the gloves in his hands. "That's what I'd like to know."

------------------------------------

The Doctor was very confused.

He had been in the TARDIS, parked, but before he and Clara could leave, a girl bumped into it. He was about to go out, check that the TARDIS was okay, when he heard shouting. He turned on the monitor to see a man with a gun pointing at the girl, and seemed to be threatening her. "Doctor what's happening?" Clara asked, coming beside the Time Lord to look at the monitor with him. She could tell he wasn't just concerned about the time machine anymore.

The girl held up her camera now, taking a very clear picture of the man in front of her. The Doctor's eyes widened as he saw her talking calmly. He continued to watch, and suddenly she was pointing at the clouds.

For a moment the Doctor just watched this spectacle, but as soon as the man dropped the gun he bolted out the door, Clara following him. "Hey! What's going on?" He stepped out of his time machine, sonic screwdriver in hand, as Clara popped her head out beside him.

Abby didn't know what to think of a man dressed in a velvet jacket with owl-like eyebrows coming out of a large blue police box.

"Are you alright?" the Doctor asked her, beaming a green light on her head with his sonic.

Abby backed away from him, curious as to why a grown man was probing her hair. "Just fine, thanks." She wiped her hands on her jeans. "Who are you?"

He tugged at the opening of his jacket, and Clara smirked at his classic gesture. "I'm the Doctor."

------------------------------------

Sam couldn't fathom the amount of dust she was inhaling in that closet. It mustn't have been opened in ages. She felt a tickle in her throat and bit down hard on her lip, trying to hold back a cough. It wasn't working.

Bruce was still talking with Natasha, clutching the bracelet in his hand. Sam prayed that they both would leave, for the sake of her respiratory system, but mostly because she didn't want to look like an idiot, falling out of the closet. Now it really wasn't working.

She clutched the shelf behind her, trying to silently clear her throat. No luck. She hacked out a cough, then quickly slapped a hand over her mouth.

Bruce's gaze fell upon the closet, and Natasha had a confused expression. "What was that?" she wondered cautiously, stepping toward the door Sam hid behind. She whipped it open, revealing a blushing red young girl, hand over her mouth, and a skeleton leaning on her. "Bruce," Natasha was clearly worried as she said this. "What have you done?"

------------------------------------

Abby could tell this "Doctor" was confused as she began untying her shoes. "Doctor who?" she asked.

"Doctor Disco!" he grinned to himself, receiving a weak jab in the ribs, courtesy of his companion. "And this is Clara," he added, baffled with what Abby was doing. "Who are you?" he asked.

At this point the black converse were off, and Abby was handing them to her new friend. Thomas looked at her in confusion. "Try them on," Abby said. "They should fit." At this, his expression became grateful, and he put the sneakers on. They were a bit snug, but still fit nicely enough.

"Abbygale Holmes," she said to the Doctor. "You can call me Abby. This is my friend, Thomas. We're pleased to meet you, Doctor. Right Thomas?" She turned her head to the man, and he nodded slowly, paying more attention to the feeling of new shoes again.

"Friend!?" the Doctor exclaimed, alarmed at this. "He just held you at gunpoint!" He raised his voice a bit; he was obviously in distress.

Abby simply said; "Yes, he did, and I forgive him. Although I've no idea how you knew that."

The Doctor stared at her, his bushy eyebrows furrowed together, and even Clara looked upset. Abby then shimmied around the two, walking around the box and stopping at the front. Frowning a bit in thought, her face suddenly dropped and she looked at the time on her phone. "Um, well, nice to meet you folks and all, but I'm late for work!" And just like that, Abby wearing only socks on her feet, ran off.

The Doctor and Clara looked at each other in complete and utter confusion, then raced after Abby, leaving Thomas to admire his new shoes.

------------------------------------

Bruce's face turned white as he stared at Sam, who still by the way, was in the closet. Natasha was helping her out of it, rubbing her back as if comforting her. This confused Sam, she hadn't been hurt, but Natasha was acting as if she had. As if Bruce had hurt her. "I'm fine, I'm fine." Sam protested.

"You aren't hurt anywhere?" Natasha wondered, looking up and down Sam's form.

"No." She glanced at Bruce, then down at her bracelet in his hand. "Nobody hurt me. I saw someone who needed help, and I helped. Simple as that."

Sam moved past Natasha and over to Bruce, who then handed her what she wanted. She looked at him for a second and fixed the fabric over his shoulders, smiling kindly up at him. "Until we meet again, Mr. Banner." She said awkwardly, turning around.

"Yes. Sure." Bruce stumbled over his words, shocked that she was taking everything so well.

Sam looked at Natasha quickly before exiting the room, waving at her as she stepped into the hallway.

---------------------------------------------

Abby was running, running so fast. She had always been quick, but had terrible endurance. It was thanks to this that the Doctor and Clara were able to catch up to her, but by then she was already inside the Boston Globe office building.

As Abby reached the security guards, she flashed them a smile, oblivious of the two time travelers behind her. "Wait!" one of the guards said to them.

"Oh, come on!" The Doctor whined, flipping his physic paper to them. The guard nodded with a bewildered look on his face, and at this the Doctor charged in. "Americans," he muttered under his breath, Clara chuckling at this.

However, once they got inside, the mysterious girl was out of sight.

------------------------------------

It didn't take long for Bruce to realize that he didn't want Sam to go. He was curious about her, why she hadn't been scared of him. His curiosity lead him to run after her. She was in the midst of throwing her hair back into a tiny ponytail when Bruce finally saw her again. They both stood awkwardly in the veggie section of the nearby market: the only market within walking distance from Sam's apartment.

"Hello again." Sam spoke in a low register for a reason she wasn't quite sure of.

"Yes, I followed you." Bruce said suddenly.

"I noticed." She nonchalantly placed a head of lettuce into her shopping basket. They both stayed quiet for an uncomfortably long time as Sam made her way down the rows of vegetables. Bruce stayed at a safe distance, but still moved along with her, not saying a word. "So, um ...are we just gonna stand in awkward silence, or are you gonna tell me why you're following me?" Sam piped up a moment later.

"Because I'm curious." Bruce stepped in front of her.

She moved aside and continued walking. "Curious about what, exactly?"

"You."

Sam jerked her head and looked at him, wondering why someone would be interested in her. Why someone would follow her around just to say they were curious.

"You're not scared of me." Bruce urged a bit.

"I have no reason to be." She furrowed her eyebrows as she said this. "You're not scary. You're ..." She paused. "Cute."

Bruce's cheeks turned pink and he tried to hide the fact that he was blushing.

"But look, I've gotta be going." Sam placed a pack of yoghurt into the basket; the last thing she needed to buy, then nudged Bruce on the arm, beginning to walk away.

"Where can I find you?" Bruce wondered, his cheeks still rather colourful.

"Just about anywhere." Sam winked, and then she was off.

------------------------------------

Abby trotted into the office after getting some shoes from the lost and found, sliding into her chair and turning her computer on. "You're running late," a voice said.

It was Josie, Abby's editor. Abby and Josie had a bit of a love-hate relationship, so she wasn't surprised when her boss came up to her desk with a smirk on her face.

"Yeah, I got held up." She actually meant "held up" as in with a gun, but Josie obviously didn't understand that.

"With what? Oh, never mind. You got a good crack today, there was a break-in at the Aberforth bank today, but nothing was taken and everyone that had been there are unconscious at the hospital."

Abby had chuckled slightly at the irony of the not-robbery, but then her eyes widened in surprise at the details of the witnesses. Josie glanced towards her office, then back at Abby.

"You should get going, see if you can interview some people that were nearby. This could be a good break for you, the only reason you got it is 'cause everyone else is busy." Abby grinned at this, then dashed out the door.

---------------------------------------------

"Who was that girl?" Clara asked.

"Abbygale Holmes, apparently," the Doctor answered.

They had left the building once she disappeared, and now were walking around aimlessly.

"You know what? Let's split up," Clara finally offered.

"What? No!" The Doctor said. He was worried about her; they were in a strange city and who knows what kind of people lived there.

"Why not? We can take more distance that way and find whatever it is we're looking for. The TARDIS obviously brought us here for a reason."

The Doctor scowled a bit as he thought it over. Maybe she was right, it would make this aimless searching faster. "Fine," he harrumphed, crossing his arms. Clara smiled, and the Doctor then pointed his finger at her. "But be careful," he warned. "The only reason I'm saying yes is because I don't see any immediate danger other than that gunman back there." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction they had come.

Clara started to walk away, but he wasn't done lecturing her. "Make sure to keep track of where you're going, so you don't get lost. And keep your phone on you! We'll meet back at the TARDIS in an hour," he added.

Then he started to cross the street grumbling; "At least you aren't wandering off without my permission."

------------------------------------

Sam was making her way back to the apartment rather quickly, step after step, she seemed to pick up speed. She was making a left around the block, right next to the building she had first met Bruce in when she slammed into someone accidentally.

She stumbled back, but a hand grabbed her arm, balancing her before she could fall. "Sorry, sorry." Sam said instinctively, looking into the eyes of the girl standing in front of her. They were chocolate coloured, matching her hair, a leather jacket covered her shoulders and a red and black dress cut off at her knees.

"That's alright, love." The girl's British accent intrigued Sam, making her want this person to say more.

"I uh... Um. It's. Thanks." She stumbled over her own words, suddenly hot in the face and losing grip on the shopping bags she held. Why was she acting like this?

"Are you alright?" The girl wondered, moving her head forward slightly so she could get a better look at Sam.

"Mmm." Sam's mouth muttered a sound that indicated she was fine. Of course, that's not what she wanted to say.

"I'm Clara Oswald." The girl said sweetly with a touch of boldness as well.

"S-S.." Sam cleared her throat, determined to pronounce her own name correctly. "Sam Watson."

Clara smiled, showing her gorgeous white teeth. Sam adored this for a reason she couldn't quite understand. In fact, she adored just about every single inch of Clara Oswald. Why was this? She didn't know.

"I'm uh. I should probably uh..." Sam pointed past Clara, trying hard to muster up another group of words.

"Get going?" She guessed, trying to help Sam along.

"Yeah, that."

Clara furrowed her eyebrows. Her perfectly neat eyebrows. "Why? I thought we was just getting acquainted."

That British voice sparked fire in Sam's heart and her entire body went hot, rather than just her face. "Well I mean I just need to..." She trailed off as their eyes met and Clara knew she'd been having some sort of effect on Sam. "put this stuff away." She finished her own sentence with relief, breaking the gaze that she and Clara shared.

"I'll tag along!" Clara insisted. "Lead the way, Miss Watson."

------------------------------------

As Abby made her way to the crime scene, she heard something soaring overhead, but she couldn't quite make out what it was. Couldn't have been a plane or a helicopter, no, this sounded different. She just couldn't put her finger on it.

That was when people in the crowd behind the police barrier started to gasp in excitement, pointing up into the sky. Abby looked up to see a flash of gold and red come crashing down to the ground, but then slow down and hover the rest of the way.

It was a suit, a suit made of metal. It was Iron Man.

To be honest, although she was acting unimpressed, Abby was secretly fangirling on the inside. Tony Stark was a brilliant man with a brilliant mind, and on top of that, he was a hero. She couldn't believe that he was standing right here in front of her, in his suit.

The crowd was gasping and cheering, as well as jumping and clapping.

Abby stepped forward towards the barrier, and started to reach for her camera to to snap a few pictures, when she remembered why she was there. The bank situation, all of the people in the hospital.

At this point Tony had already waved to the crowd, and was past the barrier talking to the police. Abby raised an eyebrow at this, and listened in.

"...so can I have a look?" Tony finished whatever he was saying. Abby's jaw dropped in surprise. Surely they weren't going to just let him in?

"Uh-um sure. I'll need an autograph though, my daughter loves you," the police officer responded, much to Abby's chagrin. The two men chuckled, and Abby sneered.

"Hold up, you can't just let him in like that!" Abby spoke up. "He has no authority, he doesn't even have a badge or anything!"

Tony and the cop turned to her, the Iron Man suit making a mechanical sound as it moved. Tony flipped up the mask to reveal his face and get a better look at Abby, the crowd very happy at this.

Ignoring the people around her and focusing on the hero, Abby was beginning to get quite peeved. She generally liked following rules, especially when she agreed with them, such as not letting the public into crime scenes.

"I like you, kid." Tony said. "Ya got moxie."

He looked at Abby's chest for a second, noticing her press badge and camera hanging around her neck.

"You've got a badge, why don't you come in with me. That okay Rob?" he asked the officer. Rob nodded with a smile, still starstruck.

This offer made the young reporter very conflicted.

On the one hand, she new rules were being broken, and she had always been disgusted with cheaters. On the other, this could get her really working on the case, nearly guaranteeing her a promotion. It took her a moment to decide, but Abby eventually -and reluctantly- swung her leg over the wooden barrier.

------------------------------------

Clara entered Sam's apartment, gazing at the paintings that were hung artistically on the walls as Sam set the groceries down on the kitchen table.

"I'm just gonna pop into the bathroom really quick and then we can chat it up, okay?" Sam was happy to have finally gotten a full coherent sentence out of her mouth though it wasn't really that clever.

"Okay, no rush." Clara smiled and leaned against the counter, her finger tapping her chin.

Sam shut the bathroom door behind her and locked it, looking at herself in the mirror. She immediately began critiquing herself, pulling out her ponytail, moving her hair a few different ways, and making sure her makeup looked even. Then she washed her hands after popping a breath mint into her mouth. "Looking good, Sam." She muttered to herself. "Let's make a good first impression."

------------------------------------

All the while, Clara was standing in the kitchen, intrigued with the amount of photos hung on the fridge with magnets. She laughed at the one of Sam with ice cream on her nose while she sat with her arm around someone strangely familiar. Clara leaned forward to get a closer look, staring intently at the girl beside Sam.

"Abbygale Holmes," she whispered, taking the picture off the fridge delicately. Her free hand found its way to her back pocket where she then grabbed her cellphone. Unlocking the screen, she dialed the number that she knew would ring the TARDIS phone.

"Clara! Where are you?" The Doctor wondered on the other end.

"I'm downtown, in an apartment." Clara said quietly.

"Why are you whispering?" He mimicked her soft tone. "Are you in danger?"

"No, I've just ...I think I've found where Abbygale Holmes lives." She glanced back at the picture, then quickly stuck it back onto the fridge as she heard Sam open the bathroom door. "Yeah! Sure, mum! I love you too, bye!" Clara hung up and smiled again, resting her chin on her knuckles she leaned on the counter once again.

"What was that all about?" Sam asked, opening the fridge for a refreshment.

"Oh, just my mum." Clara bit her lip, hoping Sam didn't find her suspicious.

She pulled out a bottle of water from the fridge and offered it to Clara, who shook her head politely, but took a seat at the kitchen table. Sam sat across from her, still oddly attracted to her appearance.

Clara cleared her throat and put her elbows on the table. "So, do you live here with anyone else?"

Sam picked at her fingernails, a nasty habit of hers. "Yeah, Abby. My best friend." She looked up at Clara. "Why?"

"Just curious." She answered, sitting back in her chair. "What's it like?"

Sam furrowed her eyebrows. "What's what like?"

"Living with your best friend."

She chuckled a bit at this, folding her hands for no particular reason, then she grinned. "I haven't been happier."

------------------------------------

Abby was having mixed emotions. Sure, she was honored to be in the presence of such a genius, but she had had no idea that the great Tony Stark was so arrogant!

"So, Boston Globe?" Tony asked, breaking Abby out of her thoughts. She glanced down at her badge and nodded. "Big time reporter, so my question is, why haven't you started taking pictures of me yet?"

So he was self-centered too. "Because I didn't come here for you," she answered with a snort. "I came for all the people in the hospital. Now, the real question is, what is a superhero like you doing in Boston?"

They entered the bank now, and began to look around.

"Well, there was nothing to do and I heard this was suspected alien. The sedative found in the victims is unrecognizable so far," Tony said.

Abby raised an eyebrow, both curious and excited. She snapped a few pictures, and then walked around a bit, noticing a thin, dust-like film covering most of the surfaces in the room. She ran her right pointer and middle fingers along a table, then inspected them. "Could it be this stuff?" she asked, sniffing her fingers. It smelled suspiciously like... maple sugar? She licked it to test, and her tongue immediately went numb. "Uh, yeah, itsth thisth sthuff," she giggled, her speech impedimented.

Tony turned and laughed. "Did you seriously just taste it?" He went over to Abby.

"Ylup," she snickered. Her smile grew even more as she realized something. "My fingerthips are going tingly!"

Tony, growing a bit concerned, wiped the sweet-smelling dust off her fingers. Abby had a grateful look on her face as the feeling started to diminish, well from her fingers anyhow. Her tongue was still numb, and now that she had touched the roof of her mouth with it that was also beginning to lose feeling.

"Here," Tony said. He had grabbed a water bottle and handed it to her. "Rinse, don't swallow." Abby did as told but then didn't know where to spit, so she walked away to look for a bathroom.

------------------------------------

The Doctor wandered aimlessly through the city, searching for his companion. He'd left her five voicemails after she hung up on him, to none of which she replied. He tried keeping calm, reassuring himself that Clara was fine. There was a bit of commotion coming from a block over, where a horde of people stood in front of the Aberforth bank. He made his way over with curiosity, tugging the dark jacket around him tighter.

"Out of the way, gotta get through," he said, squeezing through the crowd, but he froze when he saw what was inside. His eyes widened as he stared at the metal red and gold suit in front of him. "Cyberman. Since when have they been using colour? And hot rod red? Bloody hell." He muttered to himself, looking at the backside of Tony Stark through the bank window. When Tony turned, however, the Doctor's heart beats slowed to a normal pace again as he realized there was no imposing threat.

"Hey, I need to get in." The Doctor said to a guard that held him up at the entrance.

"You are not permitted to enter." The man kept a firm hand on the Doctor's shoulder.

He cleared his throat and pulled his psychic paper from the inner pocket of his jacket. "I think you'll find here, that I absolutely am."

The man took a step back with a shocked expression. "Oh. Oh, I'm so sorry sir. Please! Go in!"

The Doctor chuckled softly and mumbled, "I love it when they do that." He stepped inside, and walked up the the man in metal.

"Sir, where did you get that?" The man's face seemed normal, he was certainly human, or at least not a cyberman.

The first thing Tony noticed about him was his strange coat. "Why are you wearing that?" he guffawed.

The Doctor looked very insulted. "What? I was trying to go for minimalist," he said grumpily, slightly upset as he straightened it around his torso. "But nevermind that, where the hell did you get that armour?" He pointed at Tony when he referred to the Iron Man suit.

Tony was quite shocked. "What do you mean where did I get this? I made this!"

The Doctor was about to respond when someone bumped into him. The officer distracted him, and for some reason his gaze was drawn to the floor.

Everywhere people had walked, you could see very faint footprints left behind. They were walking in a thin layer of some sort of dust.

The Doctor noticed that this thick powdery substance was covering nearly everything in the room. Well, everything that had been here before the cops got in. Curious that this might be something he should find out more about, the Doctor reached out his hand to a countertop.

------------------------------------

Abby stepped out of the bathroom, the water bottle in hand. Rinsing didn't help much. She used her wrist to wipe some wet off the corner of her lips, when she realized she was drooling a bit. Scrunching her face up in disgust, Abby turned the corner to see a familiar face, the strange man with the magician's jacket.

"What is he doing here?" she asked herself.

Just then the Doctor did what Abby did earlier, he dragged his fingers through the stuff and smelled it, then held it up to his mouth. Tony noticed what he was going to do just in time.

------------------------------------

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, old man," he warned him.

"Why not?" the Doctor asked him. He seemed a bit annoyed with the man, yet also concerned.

"'Cause that reporter girl just did it and her tongue went numb." Sure enough, the Doctor's fingers had started to lose feeling. Furrowing his eyebrows, he wiped them off on his pants, just in time it seemed.

"I don't know why she did that though, peculiar young woman. She seems to love the rules too." At this point Tony had taken a sample of the dust. "Anything yet Jarvis?"

"Not yet sir," a voice replied. The Doctor had no idea where it came from and wished to investigate this man further, but for now he had a strange feeling that he should consider this girl he mentioned.

"Where is she now?" the Doctor asked.

"Well, she went to the ladies' room to rinse out her mouth... should've been back by now."

------------------------------------

Abby had become overwhelmed, partly from the growing crowd of law enforcement. She didn't like being in crowds, as it made her claustrophobic. It was strange though, as when she was in a group of friends or alone in a small space she was fine. It was too many strangers that made her nervous. She had taken to calling it "coagulation anxiety."

That and seeing the Doctor again. She feared that he was following her for some reason, as it wouldn't have been the first time she knew someone with a stalker-ish vibe.

Even though this was what she was thinking logically, something else was telling her that it just wasn't time to see him yet. She needed someone else to help with the report anyhow, this wasn't exactly a one-woman job.

But for now, she headed back to the apartment, deciding to take a different alley than this morning.

((A/N: So that was the first chapter of many! You can find the WIP Master list here, with a link as well to the story on Wattpad. And don’t worry, John and Sherlock are going to show up in a few chapters. I hope you enjoyed!))

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mrsbadgers · 5 years

Text

Overwatch Fanfiction Widowmaker x Sombra 18+

You Must Learn Your Place

Written by: Hungrycollegekidd (MariaBadger)

The patter of rain could be heard over the Paris rooftops paired with the ever so gentle sound of heels clicking across the cobble stones below. A lonely traveler made her way towards an ordinary bricked building. Light raindrops ordained her black petticoat escaping the umbrellas protective covering. As she approached the large red door, she pulled off one laced glove to reveal a pale, almost purple colored hand with long, polished nails. Taking little time to unlock the door, she closed the umbrella and hung up her coat to dry. A gentle hum emanated from a couple doors down. As she passed, she peered in and saw her colleague's face pressed down on the keyboard. A half drank bottle of tequila sat next to her hand which still clutched the computer mouse. Thinking nothing of it, Widow continued to walk through the small home, and entered her own room. There, on her bed, she found a tan manila envelope with a single white rose that was purposefully placed on top. She sat down on the bed and inspected the contents of the envelope. A picture, a location and a time. Her next target. Widow dropped the contents onto the floor and turned her interest towards the rose, shining brightly under the neon lights of the street signs illuminating through the window. Her pale fingers gripped this delicate flower. Closing her eyes, she breathed in its sweet sent. Nostalgia of better times. ------------------------ Widow was awoken by yelling outside her door. So, she got up, slipped on her slippers, silk robe and opened the door only to hear Sombra and Reaper arguing. "Where the hell did you put it!" Sombra yelled in a hungover induced stupor.

"What are you talking about!" The grizzled voice of Reaper spat back.

"My translocator!"

"WHY THE HELL WOULD I HAVE THAT THING!"

Widow clears her throat. They immediately stop and turn their heads as Widow enters the kitchen. Giving them no mind, she fills the coffee machine and lets it begin to brew. Grabbing a mug, she turns around to face them, leaning against the kitchenette. "Please continue, its not like I can go back to sleep now." The annoyance in her voice was very apparent to the others.

"Amelie, Im sorry if we woke you up but Gabe swiped my trans-locator and is doing God only knows what with it!" Sombra points a finger inches from his face, which he forcefully swats away.

"What use do I have for some teleportation piece of junk?" Reaper hisses back.

Before either of them could say another word, Widow casually walks into Sombra's room and fishes the small metal contraption out from the bottom of her waste basket. Dropping it onto the kitchen table, Widow gives them both a shady look and yawns.

Sombra sprung up, grabbing the slightly soda stained, teleporter. "Oh! Thank you Amelie. I don’t know what i would do without you!" Widow slightly smiles and proceeds to fill up her mug with the coveted energy brew.

"SOMBRA!" Reaper growled.

"Yes Gabe?"

"You owe me an apology don’t you think?"

"Awww poor Gabe, i so so so sorry." She chuckles in the most sarcastic manner. Reaper growls and stomps off towards the basement.

Sipping on her coffee, Widow says to Sombra; "Remember, we have a mission tonight. Transport arrives at 8pm sharp, so try not to get too drunk. After all, it is an important contract. We cant let this target escape." Sombra sits barely paying attention, smudging off the stains on the translocator with her sleeve.

"Do you understand, Sombra?!" Her tone much harsher now.

"Si Si. I get it chicka. Ill see you then." She stands up and walks back into her bedroom. Not even a minute later, Widow hears the unmistakable pop of the tequila cork. She sighs but continues to sip her coffee in piece. ---------------------------------------------- The gentle hum of the Talon Stealth Jet lifts Sombra and Widow into the night sky, darting towards the marked destination. Widow glances over and Sombra. Her disheveled appearance and glazed over eyes worry her. As long as Sombra does what she is instructed then Widow can do the rest. Over their intercoms, the pilot warns them that they are 5 minutes to the drop point. Sombra stands, clutching her trans-locator as widow prepares her grappling hook. The drop doors open and both agents fall to the designated points.

"Sombra" Widow whispers into her ear piece "Tell me when the Omnic guards are disengaged.

Drunkingly she replies "Si, no problem boss." Widow sighs and hops onto a ventilation pipe placed on the roof across from the target for a better vantage point. Widow sees the mafia boss, exiting his vehicle, surrounded by onmic body guards. Nervously they look around, clutching their machine guns. But Widow is submerged in shadows, safe from sight.

"Sombra, target is in my sight."

"3...2...1... Iniciando el hackeo."

The lights dim and the guard bots fall limp. Immediately, panic ensues. Widow presses her trigger but before the bullet can come out, Sombra's trans-locator sputters across the roof top and Sombra appears. Unbalanced from the shift, she falls over, bumping widow. Widow desperately takes the shot but misses as she is pushed over, onto the roof.

"MERDE!" She cusses loudly. Almost immediately she gets up and pistol whips Sombra with the butt of her rifle.

"You foolish, drunken girl! Look what you have done!" The sound of the guards rebooting followed by a stream of shots ricocheting around them could be heard.

"Amelie I'm s---"

"Shut up, we have to go. NOW!" Widow wraps Sombra and herself in the zip-line and they flee towards evac.

--------------------------------------------------- As soon as they entered the house, Sombra jokingly comments; "Too bad he got away huh? Oh well, don’t worry. The boss isn't gonna care as much as you think!" She chuckles

"You think this is a joke? I told you to not drink before this mission. Didn't I?"

"Sure, but-"

"No buts. You ruined the mission and now my neck is on the line! Why is it that you never take your work seriously?" Widow breaths heavily, enraged at yet another failure on account of this stupid girl. "I don’t care what other ideas are on your agenda but while you are under Talon's roof, you do as told. This is not a game!"

"I know its not a game, Amelie, I did what i was told but accidents always happen!" Sombra rolls her eyes and turns, walking in the direction of her room.

"What will it take to straighten you up? What do I have to do to break the importance of our cause into that immature, augmented brain of yours?" But her words went unheard. Ignoring Widow, Sombra ducks into her room muttering something in Spanish under her breath. Widow closes her eyes and lets the anger pass. What little emotions she has left should not be invested into this girl. --------------------------------------------------- About an hour passes by and Widow stands from her desk. She makes her way over to Sombra's room where Sombra sits in a chair, feet propped up on her bed. She holds a glass in her left hand and is singing along to some Spanish music. Widow leans on the door frame and knocks on the wall. Sombra takes another sip and invites her in.

"Que pasa, mi amiga?" She cheerfully asks.

"I want to talk." Widow closes the door and takes a seat on the bed next to where Sombra's feet are resting. "I am not angry with you cheri, just-"

"Let me guess" Sombra cuts her off " your just disappointed?" Widow sighs and places a cold hand onto Sombras right leg. Sombra pays no mind and continues to hum to the tune.

"No, I am worried about your drinking. Why do you do it so much?"

Sombra scoffs. "What do you want me to say? Hi, my name is Sombra and I’m an alcoholic! I mean, what else should i do when I apparently cant get anything right? Widow glares. "Ok, how about this” she continues “I'm only here because Talon is a perfect means of finally exposing the Iris and Lumerico's corruption.So until I can hack into that information, I pass my time drinking. It helps me think, you know?" Sombra goes for another sip but before she can, Widow takes away the glass and puts it on the night stand.

With a stern voice she says "All I hear are excuses and lack of self discipline. I know how much potential you have, Sombra. You are one of the smartest women I know. At this, Sombra looks up and scoffs. She waves her hand, dismissing Widow's compliment and turns the chair to face away from her. Widow proceeds to get up and places her hands on the arms of the office chair, face inches away from hers. "Unlike Gabriel, Moira or myself, you can still control where your life will go."

"Blah, blah, blah. Ok Amelie. You should totally become a social worker with these ‘words of wisdom’.” Just so you know, I’m not the same pathetic orphan on the streets anymore." Sombra is visibly annoyed at what Widow thinks of her. However, she plays it off as usual.

Widow stands up, giving Sombra space. "I know that. To be truthful, cheri, I could care less what happens to you. But as my partner, I want to make sure you don’t get yourself into something you can’t talk your way out of. You're a valuable asset to Talon."

Slightly hurt by this, Sombra responds; "An asset? But a partner to you? Make up your mind before you make a speech about my potential. Lying is a bad habit you know. And to think i thought of you as my amiga." Widow says nothing, just crosses her arms and continues to stare at Sombra.

"What?" Sombra barks, breaking the awkward silence.

Widow breaths in deeply, bends over and places her cold hand on Sombras cheek, pulling her face near hers. "I think you need to be disciplined, made to listen."

Shocked at this statement, Sombra replies "Oh is that so, then i dare you."

Intrigued, Widow places her lips teasing close to Sombra's and whispers "Don’t think I can’t discipline you in other ways than just physical pain my dear." Window backs away with a wicked grin. She grabs the glass from the nightstand and walks towards the door, downing the remaining liqour, dropping it to the floor with a clatter.

Sombra is curiously aroused, wondering what the next night will bring. "Oh this will be interesting indead, no?" ------------------------------------------

The next day:

Sombra, wih a slight liqour induced buzz, sits in position at the mainframe computer of an overwatch base. She quietly giggles how no one had noticed her breach. Typing away, Reapers voice comes through her ear piece.

"How much longer Sombra? Jack and the monkey are coming."

"1.43 minutes remaining. Data downloading and virus initializing as we speak. Try not to make a scene, but do not let them in Gabe."

"Sombra, stop calling me Gabe."

"Yah ok. Whatever, Gabe." Reaper growls and logs off. Sombra begins to hear gun shots outside, Reapers shotgun blasts ripping through Winston's defenses. Soldier 76 shouts some muffled command. Winston rawrs and attacks.

"Just 5 seconds more" Sombra whispers to herself. Suddenly the doors to the control room burst open. Sombra quickly grabs the USB drive and trans-locates before Winston can grab her. "Adios!"

Reaper and Sombra meet inside evac.

"You got the data?" Repear growls while clutching the bleeding in his side.

"Si senior! and to think I expected a challenge, heh."

-------------------------------------------------------- Sitting in her room Sombra swigs from a bottle of tequila. She tosses the USB in air, catching it like a ball. She revels in the thought of how skilled she really is.

"Great work today, Sombra." Widows voice cuts through her concentration.

"Oh SURE come on in without knocking. Ill make sure to put a sock on handle next time." Sombra turns to look at Widow with a teasing grin. "Whats up?"

"I need that USB for the boss so if you would be so kind as to hand it over." Widow reaches out her palm.

"No, I think ill hang on to it for a little while longer. The boss cant just enjoy all the juicy secrets himself." She smirks and chucks the device into a drawer.

Annoyed at this, Widow gently growls, close to becoming angry. "Sombra, that wasnt an option. The drive. NOW!"

Working Widow up excites her. "And if I dont?" She laughs.

"Then I will rip it from your broken hands." Widow replies.

"Ooh la la, that sounds like a threat!" Sombra stands up inches away from Widows face. "Do something, I dare you mi amiga."

In a flash, Widow takes Sombra to the ground, twisting both arms back and straddling her body, face down.

"Get off me" Her voice was muffled against the floor.

"No, mon ceri. C'est temps de te punir (its time to punish you)." Sombra's eyes grow wide, dreading what pain is about to follow. In a desperate attempt to get free, she clenches her fists and pulls her arms forward hard, managing to break Widow's grasp and spin around. But, annoyingly Widow still straddles her waist. With one hand, Widow pins Sombra's wrists above her head, pressing them against the cold cement floor. Sombra struggles but cant move. Widow patiently moves her face close to Sombra's.

"No need to fear little girl, ill make this punishment quick and painless. Gently, her lips make contact with Sombra's, embracing in a soft kiss. However, becoming more aggressive when Widow slips her cold tongue into Sombra's warm mouth. Sombra gasps. But before she can kiss back, Widow breaks the kiss and sharply nips Sombra's bottom lip. Sombra could feel the warm blood drip down her lip.

"I- I dont understand" Sombra whispers. Widow just giggles and pays no mind. Smiling mischievously, she lowers her robe to expose her black lace lingerie and laps up the stream of blood pooling on Sombra’s bottom lip. With her free hand, Widow lifts Sombra's shirt, revealing a braless pair of tan, quivering breasts. She leans in and sucks on her left then right nipple, leaving small bite marks on each. Sombra begins to protest and begs her to stop. Little to Widow’s knowledge, Sombra was still a virgin.

Widow pays no mind to her victim's discomfort and proceeds to slide her finger nails down Sombra's abs and over into her panties.

"Purple lace. What a wonderful choice." She whispers. Sombra squirms and begs her to stop. Ignoring her pleads, Widow inserts two fingers into her moist pussy, thrusting them in and out while curling them in just the right way to hit her most tender spots. Sombra breaths in sharply, slightly moaning at this new experience. Widow lets go of Sombra's arms and places her hand on Sombra's left thigh. At this point Sombra does not protest, taking in the pleasure. Widow lowers her lips onto Sombra's clit. Gently sucking, tongue snaking around. She continues to thrust her fingers in her pussy, feeling how warmer and wetter Sombra gets.

At this point Sombra is moaning loudly, no longer begging for widow to stop or fighting against the pleasure she was experiencing. That excited Widow. But before Sombra could wrap her head around these strange, erotic feelings, she climaxes.

"Ohhhh Mierda!!!" She cries out. Panting heavily, she looks up at Widow licking her fingers as she rises to leave the room.

Widow opens the drawer for the USB and walks to the door frame. She stops and turns her face back saying "I hope you have learned your lesson, foolish girl." Her eyes, before so empty, now glowing with pleasure. “Dont think I won’t punish you again.”

With that, Sombra was left in in the dark, music still quietly blaring through the stereo. Her chest burning and pussy throbbing. Was that really punishment, though? 'What was that. So wrong but yet...' She hesitates then out loud she gasps "I want more."

THE END

#overwatch #overwatch fanfiction #sombra #widowmaker #sombraxwidowmaker #mature #18 plus #fanfiction #video games

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kwebtv · 1 year

Photo

Character Actor

Harry Hickox (October 22, 1910 – June 3, 1994) Film and television actor who appeared in over 90 films and television series.

He portrayed Sgt. Orville King in the series No Time for Sergeants 1964-1965.

Other series he appeared in were The Web, Cowboy G-Men, Duffy’s Tavern, The Adventures of Kit Carson, City Detective, I Led 3 Lives, The Roy Rogers Show, The Millionaire, My Favorite Husband, The Ford Television Theatre, Cavalcade of America, Tales of the Texas Rangers, Waterfront, Jungle Jim, The Charlie Farrel Show, Father Knows Best, Perry Mason, Circus Boy, Code 3, The Gray Ghost, State Trooper, Death Valley Days, Trackdown, The Adventures of Wild Bill Hickok, Jefferson Drum, The Rifleman, The Adventures of Rin Tin Tin, Dragnet, Frontier Doctor, Wagon Train, Route 66, 77 Sunset Strip, Grindl, The Fugitive, Mr. Ed, Laredo, The Lucy Show, Pistols ‘n’ Petticoats, The Phyllis Diller Show, Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C., Please Don’t Eat the Daisies, Mr. Terrific, The Invaders, The High Chaparral, The Mothers-in-Law, Lancer, Petticoat Junction, The Mod Squad, Bracken’s World, Men at Law, The Virginian, The Partridge Family, Nichols, Alias Smith and Jones, Ironside, Nanny and the Professor, Night Gallery, Gunsmoke, Bonanza, The Waltons, Here’s Lucy, Jigsaw, The F.B.I., Hec Ramsey, Columbo, Run, Joe, Run, Adam-12, Kojak, The Six Million Dollar Man, Marcus Welby, M.D. and The Secrets of Isis. (Wikipedia)

#Character Actor #Harry Hickox #TV #No Time for Sergeants

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loethlifeyoulivelietelifouloe · 3 years

Photo

Ann Sheridan on the set of Pistols 'n' Petticoats, 1966.

#Ann Sheridan #Photography #Actress #Cinema #Vintage #History #Cinema history #Film #Movies #Hollywood #Old Hollywood #1966

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calamity-bean · 7 years

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I know it isn't your top turn relationship priority, but what did you think of the abe/mary scenes? part of me was happy that mary's getting the "real" marriage that she wants, but part of me feels like we missed a step in their development, considering he was still asking anna "what about /us/?" back in 3x04(?). objectively, i know that they have time constraints, but what are your opinions? you always have such insightful analyses. thanks!

Thank you, I’m glad you like my analyses, and it’s funny you should ask about this! Let me refer to the notes I wasfrantically scribbling longhand all through the ep, where I scrawled…

“YOU’RE MY CAUSE ABRAHAM” GOD DAM N MARY I WEEP !!!!!

…I adored that line. Just as I adored Mary saving him later in the ep.

You’reright that this relationship isn’t my top priority(if only because literally nothing else comes close to the one that is), andit’s no secret that I’ve had a lot of frustrations over the years with Abe. ButI adore Mary, and I’m actually very supportive of their marriage working out.Yes, there were points in season 3 that seemed to be backsliding towardAbe/Anna – which frustrated me at the time – but now, with the benefit ofhindsight, I think I understand why that happened. I think that backsliding wasultimately in service of a larger point: that Abe and Mary’s relationship is succeeding for the same reasons that Abeand Anna’s failed.

Itdoesn’t look like Abe and Mary are suited in the beginning, right? Season 1 pushes that~star-crossed forbidden romance~ angle hard, and Mary, while not unsympathetic evenback then, is cast in the role of the uptight wife who’s an impediment to Abe’swork as well as to his and Anna’s ~love.~ Mary does not share Abe’s politicalsympathies, as Anna does; she does not share Abe’s history, his childhood, hiscircle of friends; they’ve been married a couple years or so by that point, yetthere’s a sense that Abe and Mary … still don’t really know one another verywell. Abe sees Mary as an obstacle, Mary sees Abe as wayward, and the spyworkand Anna affair has them at odds…

…untilEnsign Baker is shot. And suddenly, both Abe and the audience realize that Maryis (as Abraham himself says) much more than the lovely rose Thomasdescribed. She is, in fact, every bit as cunning and ruthless as Abraham, whenshe needs to be – which can make her a helluva asset to him, or a helluvaimpediment, depending on whether their goals at any given moment align.

Fortunately,with each season, their goals have aligned more and more – partly because Abelearns to value Mary more, but largely because Mary slowly comes to accept thatshe’ll never succeed in stopping Abe, so she might as well help his dumb assany way she can. Teamwork brings out the best in Abe and Mary’s relationship. Iseldom like Abe more than when he’s listening to Mary’s ideas and we see thetwo of them collaborating and supporting one another. There’s some lovelyAbe/Mary content in … 3.01, I think? Where she’s, y’know, stuffing pistols upher petticoats for him to cover up Eastin’s murder (which was her idea), andthen they tumble into bed together all playful and sweet. Watching that, Iremember thinking: “Thank GOD! Abe has FINALLY realized how well they worktogether! He’s FINALLY learned to appreciate his wife!”

…Andthen the Hewlett situation happens. And the long-cooling embers of Abe/Annaflare up for one last, miserable hurrah.

Becauseat the same time that Abe and Mary have been learning how well suited they are– both cunning, both stubborn, and both increasingly willing to engage inwhatever violence or deceit they need to in order to achieve their goals andprotect the things they love – Anna has been undergoing a paralleltransformation. Hers, however, is asoftening. She who started out the series so angry and so confident in therebel cause has discovered compassion and admiration for someone she neverexpected, and as a result, she now finds herself drawing lines she can nolonger cross. And what we see when Abe comes back from prison – which rendershim more bitter and ruthless than ever before – is suddenly, his ruthlessness frightens Anna even as her affection forHewlett baffles him.

ContrastAnna’s behavior during the Abe–Hewlett conflict with Mary’s. Because Mary andEdmund, they were friends, right? They seemed to respect one another? To getalong? In season 2, she calls him a darling man, a good man, and prays for hissafety and his soul. She even helps save him the first time from Abe! But oncethat conflict is in the open…? She loses all sympathy for Hewlett. She refusesto help Anna broker a peace. She knows that Abe intends to betray Hewlett, andher response to Anna is basically: What,you don’t want Abe killing this guy to protect his family? That sounds like aYOU problem, hon. For Anna, trying to protect both men is an absolutecrisis. For Mary, it’s no dilemma whatsoever. Abe is her cause.

Interms of priorities, personalities, cunning, aggressiveness toward obstacles,stubbornness in pursuit of sometimes selfish goals, and willingness to crossmoral lines for the sake of what they hold dear, Abe and Mary understand oneanother in a way that Abe and Anna simply cannot anymore. The reason we getthat backsliding in early season 3, though, is that Abe has not yet fullyrealized or accepted this yet. I think he’s extremely jealous of Anna’saffections, and I think he’s absolutely furious with her for protecting Hewlettbecause he simply cannot for the life of him understand why the HELL she isdoing this. For him and Mary, pragmatism demandsthat Hewlett be dealt with, and that’s as simple as that. The abstract moraldilemma Anna is grappling with simply does not exist.

Inshort: the reason Abe’s feelings for Anna flare up again in early season 3 isso that they can be definitively doused. A last violent, ugly show ofresistance to change before Abe can accept that it’s time to move on.

Fortunately,we’ve seen no further backsliding in season 4. Abe and Anna have healed theirfriendship, but Mary is Abe’s partner in life and love, and I think he knowsit. God knows Mary deserves better than anyone can give her, and I have toagree that we haven’t seen as much obvious devotion or development of feelingson Abe’s side of the equation as we have on Mary’s. I think it’s clear herespects and cares for Mary, but he’s often focused on the cause. However, giventhat it was only a couple seasons ago that he was telling her he didn’t loveher the way she loved him, I think it’s wonderful how much progress the two ofthem have made.

#Anonymous #mary woodhull #abe woodhull #turn amc #turn meta #i wonder a LOT about whether the showrunners originally intended abe & anna to be endgame #like i think about that a LOT #and if that is indeed what they originally intended #then i respect them for having the self-awareness to change course while there was still time #cause mary's whole personality and worldview is just much more compatible with abe's imo #anna strong #asks #op

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sfppn · 5 years

Text

Vast Wasteland From the Vault 052 - Dumb Concepts for Shows

Before Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, and even the Internet, there was Public Access Cable. Return with us now to Columbus, Ohio in the 1990s for the journal of pop culture.

Boy, there are plenty of dumb shows with dumb concepts…

Thanks to TVsStevePatrick for the updated theme!

youtube

VWFTV 052

#actv #public access #sfppn #gilligan's island #dusty's trail #land of the giants #my mother the car #i married joan #frontier circus #galactica 1980 #it's about time #supertrain #pistols 'n petticoats #lost in space

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my-name-is-dahlia · 6 years

Text

Dictionary (pt.cccxvi)

Words taken from ebooks I read in 2018:

carabineer (n.) a solider whose principal weapon is a carbine.

mariachi (n.) an itinerant Mexican folk band.

kleptomania (n.) a recurrent urge to steal, usually without regard for need or profit.

rimfire (adj.) designating ammunition having the primer around the edge of the base.

petticoat (n.) a woman’s or girl’s undergarment in the form of a skirt or a skirt and bodice.

derringer (n.) a small large-bore pistol.

gunnysack (n.) a sack made of coarse sacking, usually of jute fibre; burlap.

portcullis (n.) a strong heavy grating sliding up and down in vertical grooves, lowered to block a gateway in a fortress etc.

chicle (n.) the milky juice of the sapodilla tree, used in the manufacture of chewing gum.

cenote (n.) American Spanish. a natural pit, or sinkhole, resulting from the collapse of limestone bedrock that exposes groundwater underneath.

#av #avdictionary

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1776fanfic · 7 years

Text

Chapter 6: The British Are Coming!

Dr. Joseph Warren had hear rumors of the British army’s intent to cross over into New York, thus moving their regiments away from Boston, but these intelligence leaks were murky, to say the least.

Sometimes, they referred to themselves as Mechanics, other times as Liberty Boys, symbolic of their once-connection to the original Sons of Liberty during the Stamp Act uprising. Whatever their name was, the secret Bostonian intelligence network met at the Green Dragon Tavern regularly and discussed means of communicating their information to the higher-ups ready to oppose the British forces.

It was ten o’clock at night when Warren, chairman of the Committee of Safety, ran out of the tavern after hearing from other Mechanics of the immediate threat that they would face. He had already informed fellow Mechanic Paul Revere days earlier of possible British movement, and gave orders to alert the Massachusetts Provincial Congress in Concord, Massachusetts to move their cache of military supplies away from the town.

Everything seemed to come together all at once. Those rumors of British intention to raid Concord of all their sizable military supplies and quite possibly imprison rebel leaders Samuel Adams and John Hancock were coming closer and closer.

“Paul! William!” yelled Dr. Warren, as he ran into his Georgian-style house and knocked four times on the door of a rather large armoire. “Come out now! We have matters of great import to carry out.”

The doors to the armoire opened, and out stepped Paul Revere, short and stocky, but full of pent-up brawn and bulk; and William Dawes, tall and handsome, slender and lithe. They brushed their coats of the lint and dust within the empty armoire.

“Had we not put faith in our recognition of your voice, surely we could have fallen victim to British spies,” William remarked to Dr. Warren, who agreed urgently.

“What is this look on your face?” asked Paul, noticing the sweat dripping from Dr. Warren’s forehead.

“Stress, perhaps,” answered Dr. Warren. “The King’s troops are about to embark in boats from Boston-bound for Cambridge and the road to Lexington and Concord. Now, I think not that they aim to capture our supplies, for we have already safely secured them in Concord, but those at Lexington have little knowledge of troop movement. If the soldiers take the town by surprise, the consequences may very well be dire.”

Paul looked up from his dusty coat, alert.

“A slaughter,” he said. “We shall alert nearby local colonial militias. Draw up the minutemen. The British shall not move into Lexington and Concord.”

“But first,” Dr. Warren began, “you must go to the Old North Church as we had arranged days earlier. Remember our signal.”

Paul Revere nodded, and then turned to William Dawes.

“If the British went out by Water, we would shew two Lanthorns in the North Church Steeple; and if by Land, one, as a signal. Dawes, my good friend, I shall catch up with you as soon as I can. Godspeed.”

“Everyone in Boston will know of the British movements by midnight,” said the beautifully-handsome William Dawes seriously. “I shall see you at Lexington.” He swiftly turned towards the door and left Warren’s house.

“Send the signal to Charlestown,” Dr. Warren instructed Revere, “then cross the Charles River to Lexington. The British intent may be much more finite than we thought. It’s not the supplies they’re after, my intelligence indicates they aim to imprison Samuel Adams and John Hancock.”

The trip to the Old North Church was much swifter than the rest of Revere’s journey. He arrived in the north end of Boston and met with the local sexton Robert Newman, who took him up to the steeple of the church.

“Tis true, Robert!” cried Revere. “The moment has arrived, and the plan is set! Remember, one if by land, two if by sea. The British come across Charles River. Let everyone know!”

Robert Newman quickly lit two lanterns and placed them at the edge of the church steeple, and Revere quickly left as soon as he did, towards the Charles River itself.

It was there, quietly rowing across the river with petticoat-ladened oars to stifle the paddle of the water, that the HMS Somerset almost caught Revere after the sailing curfews, but he arrived safely in Charlestown and, with a loaned stallion, rode to Lexington.

Along the way, Paul Revere continued yelling, alerting every house along the path to prepare for British engagement. He aimed to set the nation on its ear, and while onto Concord marched the foe to seize the arsenal there, Revere went about waking folks.

“THE BRITISH ARE COMING!” he yelled, sounding like a slurring Italian stallion. “THE BRITISH ARE COMING, THE BRITISH ARE COMING!”

All the families awoke, and the men quickly grabbed their muskets and their pistols, guarding their doors, readying for a confrontation with the redcoats.

As Revere did this, riding over to Lexington in break-neck speed, he thought of William Dawes, and how well Dawes was doing. Dawes was a handsome man, and Revere was quite jealous of that. Dawes was capable, and the envy of all other men, as women flocked to him, and just once, Revere wanted to beat Dawes to the chase. Still, he had great admiration for the handsome, heroic, and muscular blonde gentleman, and hoped to see him soon.

Riding through the countryside and Arlington, Revere alerted every patriot along the route, and they went up on their own steeds and delivered warnings of their own. “Regulars are coming!” Revere continued to shout, and before he knew it, as many as forty riders were warning the Massachusetts countryside of the redcoats’ advance.

At midnight, Revere arrived in Lexington, and went over to the Hancock-Clarke House to warn Adams and Hancock of the impending army.

“Tis late, Paul!” said John Hancock upon opening the door.

“I sense a great disturbance,” Adams added, beckoning for Revere’s message. “What have you to bring us, Revere?”

“Urgent matters,” Paul Revere answered. “And I’m glad to bring this to you before that beautiful Dawes does. As it may, the intelligence news you’ve received of redcoat movements towards New York are erroneous and a cover story to mask the real intention: British forces are coming here to Lexington and Concord as we speak.”

“For the supplies.”

“No, Mr. Hancock. To arrest you two, with the potential of squashing our revolution.”

Adams and Hancock’s faces turned white. They quickly ushered Revere into the house for fear of British spies, as they had heard infiltrated even the Mechanics in the days leading up to the movement. Half an hour later, William Dawes arrived in Lexington, finishing his own warnings to the townspeople along his route, and the four spent a considerable amount of time discussing plans and formulations.

They believed that the forces sent were much too big for the sole purpose of arresting two men, and concluded that they truly planned on invading Concord. Just as they discussed this, they happened to notice outside their house one Samuel Prescott walking alone in the dark, having just left a young woman’s house. They took Prescott in and after relaying the intelligence, Prescott, being a staunch American patriot, agreed to accompany Revere and Dawes to Concord and warn the citizens of invasion.

“We must get there before the redcoats take all of our guns and ammunition,” said Prescott with firmness.

The three set on their horses and galloped down the path to Concord, but as two o’clock approached in the dark morning, scouting British patrol offices stopped the three men.

“Eh, bruv, what we got here? Coupla’ yankees caught red-handed?” sneered one of the British officers.

“Red-coated, perhaps,” Revere quipped. “We three are merely enjoying the light of the beautiful moon, as it shines down onto glorious Massachusetts. Go Patriots.”

“You can’t fool us with this deflategate nonsense,” the officer replied. “You’re our captives now.”

Prescott punched the air and smacked his horse, who rose up on its two hind legs and neighed.

“Not today!” Prescott cried. “My speciality in horsemanship shall prevail! Onwards, Binky, to the castle of bones!”

Prescott’s horse kicked the British officers’ horses in the rear and then jumped over a wall, Prescott escaping into the woods towards Concord.

“I shall do the same!” William Dawes yelled, attempting to match Prescott’s bravery. “I shall wear midnight!” He, too, smacked his horse, and galloped away, escaping from the clutches of the British patrol officers.

Later, he would fall off his horse and be knocked unconscious. He never made it to Concord.

Revere, however, dared not to do any attempts at running away. He obeyed the British officers quietly, as he formulated his own plan. He told them of the army’s movement from Boston, and that a catastrophe would occur in Lexington if the British were to meet up with the hostile colonial militias, armed to the tee, ready to defend their homes from invaders.

Yet, the patrol officers continued towards Lexington, with Revere in tow. Once a mere mile away from Lexington, gunshots were heard, and the town bell began to clang rapidly. There began shouting and yelling, and the officers turned to Revere, demanding an explanation.

Revere laughed.

“It’s a signal,” said he, mockingly. “To alarm the country. The die is cast, Englishmen. The rebel flag unfurled. The bell’s a’ringing, the town’s alarmed, and you’re all dead men.”

The British soldiers, now sweating profusely, worried that their forces would be toppled by local farmers and craftsmen with shoddy gunpowder but loaded patriotism, agreed to release Revere and all other captives they had seized along the way. They took Revere’s horse and then rode away to warn their commanders of the Massachusetts militia.

Revere walked back to the Hancock-Clarke house, and met up with Adams and Hancock again.

“Dawes and Prescott will have reached Concord by now,” said he.

A few moments later, Dawes walked into the house.

“Revere?!” said Dawes incredulously. “Why have you not reached Concord? They are in danger!”

“I thought you had done so, Dawes!”

“Now who shall tell the tale of the great midnight ride if we have no victor?”

“Let us pray that Mister Prescott has reached Concord,” commented Samuel Adams. “If he does so, then he shall be written in textbooks and poems as the great midnight rider.”

“No,” interrupted Paul Revere. “They shall only remember me. I will make sure of it. I went to the Old North Church, I crossed the Charles River, I rode to Lexington, and I did so of my own accord.”

Dawes laughed ironically.

“You think your Jack Black-looking ass is going get credit for this? If anyone, it would be me: the handsome blonde gentleman. Fuck yo ass, with your bitch-ass Nacho Libre shit. ”

Indeed, that legendary “Midnight Ride” would become a thing of American myth, and the great Paul Revere, in all bravery and glory, would be the sole creditor responsible for alerting the Massachusetts militia. Samuel Prescott’s eventual fate after the ride became unknown, and Dawes fell out of limelight.

The morning that succeeded the midnight ride would prove to be the one that signaled the start of the battle. The ride of Paul Revere set the nation on its ear, and eventually, the shot at Lexington heard ‘round the world.

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