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bookscoffeeandracoons · 4 years

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366 Days Reblog Challenge April 2020

Another month is already over and in these messed up times I’m even more grateful for all the amazing work by these amazingly talented writers! So without much more rambling here are the fics that i’ve read and reblogged for @beccaanne814‘s 366 Days Reblog Challenge. And thanks again to @beccaanne814 for the wonderful banners!

Happy reading!

01. Patching up by @petals-sunwards

Clint Barton x Reader

Warnings: mentions of blood and injury, a little angst and fluff

Prompt: Can you go a single day without accidentally hurting yourself?

02. A Good Suit by @portals-to-a-new-world

Leonard McCoy x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY!!, Some language, Mentions of being tied up, Oral (male receiving), uhhh I think that’s it tho

What? I have to give a massive massive shoutout to @bakerstreethound for the idea: {So have a later night party at the enterprise (can be for Kirk’s birthday, but let’s say you and Kirk are on bad terms so you don’t go to the party) you stay in your room tussling with your body pillow to make up for Bones absence. You wake up to find him sitting on your bed wearing the suit he went to Kirk’s party in.} Love, you’ve absolutely slaughtered me in this process but oml was it worth it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it <3

03. A Bad Boy by @portals-to-a-new-world

Leonard McCoy x Reader

Warnings: Listen. We all know I’m a slut for suits. So you can bet your ass this is as smutty as all hell. That being said, semi public almost smut, language, being tied up, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it yall), oral (male receiving), mild choking, dom!reader, listen it’s straight filth kay? Kay.

What?: Bones doesn’t want to go to a random 1920s themed party, so Y/n offers him a challenge. Smut ensues. (Sequel to A Good Suit.)

04. One Night In Vegas by @avengerscompound

Tony Stark x F!Reader

Warning: Talk of sex, aftermath of drinking and drug use

Summary: You wake up in a Vegas suite with Tony Stark wearing the biggest diamond ring you’ve seen in your life. The two of you then try and piece the night together

05. Your Prince, My King by @official-and-unstable-satan

Loki x Reader

Warnings: Dominant Loki. Language. Mentions of insecurities and mental health. Degradation and praise. Bondage? SEX Oral (Male and female receiving) and ACTUAL SEX ETA: Orgasm denial/delay (cause that’s apparently a warning? Didn’t know. Sorry) Odin in general. Loki. Reader being snarky and short tempered. Insecurities. Mentions of trauma. Language, probably. Bad writing? Idk what to put here, really. I’m bad at this. Smut. Mentions of smut. Actual filth. Out of character characters, probably. One day I’ll stop apologizing for my writing. I’m working on it.

06. Surprise by @mermaidxatxheart

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Swearing. If you think I missed anything, please let me know.

Summary: You try to get away with something, but Bucky catches you in the act.

07. drive-through by @evanstarff

(i must have missed something here beause i can’t get to this fic anymore. @evanstarff seems to be gone. I’ll still leave the fic here, in case anyone knows if @evanstarff maybe has a new blog or something, please let me know!)

08. Scabulous by @avengerscompound

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of past injuries, poor feelings about body image, scars

Synopsis: Bucky is unwilling to undress in front of you because he hates his scars. Turn out he isn’t the only one with scars.

09. Skin Contact by @avengerscompound

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Series Warnings: Angst, smut (hand jobs, vaginal sex, fingering), PTSD, mentions of past torture. Superpowered Reader.

Synopsis: While on the run in Romania you come across a man who has a past very similar to your own. When the people pursuing him track him down, you assume you will never see him again.

10. Mind Control by @avengerscompound

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Series Warnings: Angst, smut (vaginal sex, oral sex), PTSD, mentions of past torture. Superpowered Reader.

Synopsis: While on the run in Romania you come across a man who has a past very similar to your own. When the people pursuing him track him down, you assume you will never see him again.

11. CRUSH by @petals-sunwards

Clint Barton x Reader

Warnings: none, pure fluff and kisses

Written for @stuckonjbbarnes‘s 250 Writing challenge. My prompt was ‘You know, I’m really good at telling who has crushes on who‘ and I had a blast writing it.

12. An Exquisite Kind of Pain by @redgillan

Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: read it and you’ll see

Summary: Steve’s in love and that’s the problem.

The five times Bucky saved you…

…and the one time you saved him

by @buckysknifecollection

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Series warnings: some mild swearing, mention of dangerous situations, death mention, injuries, mentions of men objectifying women; other than that - toothrotting fluff.

Summary: You have a special bond with Bucky. He’s more than your best friend, your partner in missions, the person you care most about. He often saved you from uncomfortable situations, always ready to protect you, but sometimes, you are the one who did the saving. A series of drabbles.

13. Part 1

14. Part 2

15. Part 3

16. Part 4

17. Part 5

18. Part 6

19. Ink on his heart by @bitsandbobsandstuff

Bucky Barnes x TattooArtist!Reader

Warnings: Tattoo experiences, a couple stories about war. Some swearing. Mostly lots of feels and fluff.

Summary: Here’s how Bucky Barnes got a haircut and then decided it was about damn time he controlled his own destiny - starting with a bit of ink.

20. Friends in Training by @until-theend-oftheline

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Sam and Bucky are giant children

A/N: This is a drabble request written for @jewels2876 : How about this with Sam and Bucky? “Are you clinically insane or incredibly annoying?” “I don’t know, probably both?"

21. Right Where You Are, That’s Where I Am by @corneliabarnes

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Angst, allusions to violence and PTSD, fluffy ending

22. Looking Up by @avengerscompound

Clint Barton x Reader (kinda)

Warnings: action, canon-typical violence, Clint’s naked and a very proud boyfriend.

Synopsis: Clint’s day was looking up. His girlfriend slept over for the first time. He’s pretty sure she’s a Jedi. He was having a nice bath. So how is it he’s now running down the street naked from gunmen?

23. Distant Connection by @abovethesmokestacks

A Bucky x Reader drabble series based on this post

Summary: You happen to be in the office when the email is sent out, you get Trip from IT to help you set up the VPN you need to be able to access company systems from home, you rifle through all of your folders and then just dump all of them in a box. It’s a surreal feeling because you are essentially cleaning out your office. As if you’re losing your job. This will be fine. You send an email to your project collaborator, someone named Barnes, suggesting a first video conference call on Monday before you log off.

This is fine.

Chapter 1: This Is Fine

Chapter 2: Introvert Olympics

Chapter 3: Business As Casual

Chapter 4: Jeremy Bearimy

Chapter 5: Toilet Paper Confessionals

Chapter 6: Netflix And I Have No Chill

Chapter 7: Social Dumbassing

24. Assemble: Bucky Barnes by @official-and-unstable-satan

Bucky Barnes

Warnings: Language, Bucky struggling a little with the whole idea. I think that’s it.

Summary: James Barnes remembers. He remembers the words. He remembers their meanings. He remembers what they made him do and he fears them. Even after he was ‘fixed’ by Shuri, he feared them. So, someone suggested he learn to love the words by associating the ways they could help him instead of hurt him.

25. Request for the “Until We Meet Again Series” by @sgtjbuccky

Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

Warnings: a little swearing,

Request: Omggg I have a idea for “until we meet again What if the reader loses her memory and goes to the Avengers because that’s the last place you remember is being, and then like they tell her about herself and they end up finding the prodigies or sum YASSSSS I LOVE YOUR STORIES 😝

26. Audiobook of Love by @nerdy-bookworm-1998

Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Summary: Steve and Bucky are missing their best girl while on a mission, but she has a special surprise for them.

27. Sore Loser by @squirrel-moose-winchester

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warning: Fluff, Gambling (is hustling money considered gambling?), Some Crack, Dean being Petty.

Summary: Y/N learns a few new tricks and hustles Dean, the king of pool, out of all his money.

28. Best Laid Plans by @suz-123

A Falcon and Winter Soldier TV Fic *obviously this is NOT spoiler heavy as the show has not even been filmed yet*

Warnings: None really, just my usual casual cursing and sassy soldiers.

A/N: So, there was a post on here that went around yesterday about a plot theory as to what Zemo was going to be doing to tear these guys apart in their future TV show. Naturally, I was livid with this stupid idea and, naturally, I used the magic of fanfic to fix a problem that may or may not ever actually see the light of day :D

29. Major Crush by @redgillan

Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Explicit Language, Dirty Talk, Groping

Summary: Laser Tag brings out Steve Rogers’ competitive side and Reader loves it.

30. Count on It by @team-iron-wannabe-man

40’s!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Y/N isn’t too impressed with the Infamous Sergeant James B. Barnes, however Bucky is definitely interested in her.

______________________________________________________________

That was all the fics I’ve read for the Reblog Challenge in April! A big THANK YOU again to all the writers! This time would be so much more difficult without all your work!

For the readers: if you search my blog for the tag #fic rec you’ll find even more to read!

Stay healthy everyone and lots of love to you all! ❤

Back to main Masterlist

#becca's reblog challenge masterlist #becca's reblog challenge masterlist april #becca's reblog challenge #fic rec

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gma-crafts · 4 years

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Alaskan Marmalade

Word Count: 2,628 Warnings: mentions anxiety attack, a lot of sled dog trivia, inaccuracies regarding the topography of New York and also the sled dog bit Characters: James Rhodes, Tony Stark, Paddington Bear Summary: When Tony sat down on the park bench to get some fresh air after a bad day, he didn’t expect to meet a new friend. Especially not one with paws and a sweet tooth.

Written for my lovely @colins-farrells, hope you like it! <3000

You can also find this fic on AO3

The soft chirping of songbirds cut through the steady noise of New York’s afternoon traffic, mixed with the chatter of flocks of tourists making their way to Bethesda Fountain. A chilly autumn breeze rustled through the treetops, their leaves only tinted ever so slightly, barely visible against the sun. The gravel of the path looping Pilgrim Hill gritted under his Italian dress shoes and mixed into the buzzing of the city around him, yet all Tony heard was his own blood rushing in his ears.

Some heads turned after him; a few cameras clicked when he strut towards the Angel of the Waters, but he didn’t pay it a second thought and followed one of the smaller paths eventually getting him to Sheep Meadow. Tony was still restless and upset, his head replaying the argument that made him practically run into the artificial tranquility of Central Park, but both his sprint down East 72nd and his attire (bespoke, of course, but definitely not made to literally run from your problems) more or less forced him to make a beeline for one of the benches and take a seat.

It was oddly deserted today, and Tony was thankful for that. He needed some quiet, some sensory deprivation to keep his mind from buzzing so goddamn much it gave him a headache, his brain and heart pumping so many chemicals through him so fast he had to loosen his tie and slip his cold fingers under the collar of his dress shirt to keep his neck from flushing.

Tony took a ragged breath. Shhh, he told his brain. Lemme think clear for a second. He pressed his indexes into the base of his skull, posture slumping down more with every new breath, as if the arc reactor gained weight with each intake of his lungs and slowly dragged him to the ground. Eventually, his heart calmed down enough to make his chest stop clenching around the metal tin in his sternum, and with the pressure leaving his ribcage, he relaxed.

God, he must look so stupid. A grown ass man in a three-piece suit the price of a small car, sitting on a park bench with an anxiety attack because he had a fight with his fiancé? Sometimes he had a hard time believing he ran a successful multi-billion dollar company. And to be precise, the tiny mean voice in his head chimed up, it wasn’t even a fight - you just overreacted and wreaked all your anger on Rhodey.

Tony hated this voice, mostly because it was right. He had been in a terrible mood all day, and Rhodey just had happened to be the person he took it out on. It wasn’t even something substantial, just the usual sting about how SHIELD and media loved to bask Captain America in the best light, and have Iron Man take the piss for even the slightest inconvenience. Tony had learned years ago to not give a flying frick about the Bugle’s headlines. But today, when Steve had the chance to correct them and then didn’t, and everyone just went along with kissing Cap’s spandex-clad hiney, not only ignoring that Tony did the lion’s share of the work, but also side-eyeing him for confronting Steve about it? Well, that pissed him off pretty much.

And to make this day perfectly horrible, he had decided to go and vent to Rhodey, only to be met with the stoic boldness he usually admired about his fiancé, but sent him through the roof today. He had just wanted someone to be on his side, to flip off the rest of the team and maybe even gossip about Clint’s horrible new haircut, but Rhodey had just kissed his cheek, told him to mess with their new suits’ measurements as payback and walked off with the promise of running him a hot bath. Tony must’ve been the first person to snap at the prospect of bubbles and essential oils, but yes, that was pretty much from where it all went downhill.

A ruffle to his left intruded his train of thought, and Tony sat back up to snark at the unlucky bastard disturbing his self-loathing, only to lift a few inches off the bench with an embarrassingly shrill yelp.

“Odin’s beard are you trying to get me into cardiac arrest? ‘Cause this was damn near successful, buddy,” he burst out, before giving the intruder another once-over. “You on the run from PeTA or somethin’?”

The creature trying to take a seat next to him slipped off the bank at his sudden eruption, and stared at him in what Tony could only call confusion. They both looked at each other silently for some seconds, Tony mentally bargaining with his fight or flight response, before the other slowly rose a - paw? - and lifted his shabby crimson hat, revealing a pair of small stubby ears.

“Wait, so you’re a… bear? In a hat and a duffel coat?”

“Good day Sir, name’s Paddington, Paddington Brown. I didn’t mean to scare you, nor give you a heart condition. May I offer you a nice marmalade sandwich as an apology?” the bear answered, and Tony decided the attire still was weirder than the British accent. His instincts figured the bear called Paddington wasn’t actually life-threatening, and his heart rate slowed down again.

“It’s alright, fuzzy. Pump’s still working. That what you do for a living? Sneaking up on people in Central Park and giving them a spook?” Tony’s voice was back to its usual soothing timbre, and encouraged by that, the bear climbed up on the bench again and started explaining.

About fifteen minutes later, Tony had called the Brown family - currently visiting Mrs. Brown’s niece - to inform them that yes, Paddington had gotten lost again, and that yes, they could pick him up at the Stark Tower in New York as soon as they could comfortably make it. After that, he had ordered Happy to pick them up at the Infantry Memorial, and to not freak out over his guest being a bear the size of an eight-year-old.

They were rounding a corner midway into a conversation about oranges when Paddington’s attention shifted to something on Tony’s right. Tony followed his gaze and spotted one of the large statues all scattered over Central Park. The bear excused himself and eagerly padded towards the broad rock guarding the path; Tony rose a brow and followed foot.

“Oh, what a lovely looking dog,” Paddington remarked as Tony came to a halt next to him. The large, bronze siberian husky guarding the pompous inscription “Endurance. Fidelity. Intelligence.” was supposed to be a memoriam of “American Heroism”, but whenever Tony saw it all he could think was is this a blep, or a mlem?

“That’s Balto,” he informed Paddington while they approached the statue. The bear studied the embedded plaque, before turning back to Tony.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand any of this, but he does seem like a good boy,” he said, and Tony huffed. He rubbed a finger over Balto’s cool bronze paw and leaned onto the massive stone the dog was standing on.

“He was a sled dog, lived around the 1920s in Alaska. Led a team of other huskies and his musher on a famous run to deliver much needed medicine to a city in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of winter.”

“Well, I’m no expert for statues, but that seems like a very adequate reason to be rewarded with one,” Paddington answered with a soft smile.

“Y’know, I’d agree with you, fuzzy, but Balto was given the entire cake when there were actually multiple teams of sled dogs doing the trip. He didn’t even run the longest leg, he just happened to be the one to actually arrive in the city. Another dog ran about seven times the distance, saving his pack and his musher two times, yet the newspapers pictured Balto and his owner as if they’d run the entire race by themselves,” Tony explained, and he couldn’t fail to notice how oddly enthusiastic he got over journalists wrong-doing a sled dog several decades ago.

Paddington thought about this for some minutes, brows furrowed under the brim of his crimson hat. He then looked up at Tony and asked, “But Balto and his owner didn’t ask them to only praise their team, right? The papers decided that on their own?”

“Uhm, no he didn’t,” Tony answered, confused, “But when the first headlines popped up, Balto’s musher could’ve told them that it was actually the other dog, Togo, who did the most work. It would’ve been right. It would’ve been fair.”

“Sometimes there’s no harder task than doing what’s right, I’m afraid,” Paddington responded, and his words carried a wisdom so unfitting for a bear in a childrens jacket, it actually left Tony at a loss of words for a moment.

“Yeah you got a point there, but still. He should’ve just said, ‘Oh thanks, but we actually didn’t do the lion’s share of the race.’ Togo’s musher was really upset when he heard that no one appreciated the struggle his team went through, and honestly I can’t blame him. I mean, Balto still didn’t deserve to almost starve to death in some shady zoo after all the ruckus calmed down,” He admitted, suddenly remembering how the story had continued for Alaska’s canine hero, “But his fame was undeserved and Togo got robbed of what he rightfully earned.”

Paddington’s face had dropped when he heard about Balto’s fate, and Tony hurried to assure him that he was soon rescued from that awful place. They both had continued walking and reached their destination in comfortable silence, Tony still brooding over how he snapped at Rhodey, and the bear deep in thoughts about heaven knows what.

Happy already awaited them. He rose a brow at Paddington’s polite introduction, then just shrugged and tossed a “caught you doing worse, boss,” at Tony before closing the door. They merged into traffic smoothly and headed straight towards Stark Tower. For about half the ride they said nothing, Tony toying with the grey and red engagement ring on his hand, Paddington just looking out of the tinted window. But eventually, the bear turned back to him.

“Mr. Stark, excuse me for bringing this back up, but there’s something I don’t understand about the whole sled dog event,” he started, fidgeting with his seatbelt, “I’ve given this plenty of thought, but I just fail to understand why dedicating a statue to the dog doing the actual work is so important. As far as I’m concerned about dogs, they only care about statues if they need to spend a penny on their morning walks.”

Tony couldn’t help but snort at Paddington’s choice of words. Then again, the bear had a point there, didn’t he?

“And speaking of caring,” Paddington continued before Tony could put actual thought into an answer, “I can’t help to believe that Togo couldn’t have cared less about the press articles, as long as he had a nice and loving home - not like his poor friend.” His eyes drooped slightly at that thought, before they met Tony’s yet again, earnest worry deepening his frown. “He did have a nice home, didn’t he?”

Tony needed a minute to recap his knowledge about Togo’s homelife, but then met the bear’s gaze and smiled.

“Yeah, yeah he actually did have a nice owner. Had a rough start, with the pup being so wimpy yet damn stubborn and with an entire beehive in his bonnet, but he was a natural leader. His owner said Togo’s been the best dog he’s ever had. They raced together for years, and his owner kept him til he died. So yep, in the long run, Togo kinda came out as the winner,” Tony explained, his brain stumbling over what he had just said. Was he still talking about dogs?

“I’m delighted to hear that,” Paddington answered and looked every bit like it. “A dog so brave and loyal can call itself happy to have someone believing in him despite of everyone. But tell me, Mr. Stark - how come you’re so educated on this topic?”

“Well, back when-,” Tony started, but got interrupted by Happy rolling down into the tower’s garage and turning off the engine. He quickly informed JARVIS about their expected guests before tagging along with Paddington to the elevators and up into his penthouse.

Rhodey looked up at the small mechanic ping of the elevator doors, the soft smile dropping along with his jaw as soon as a bear (a bear?) stepped out of it and let his eyes wander around the place curiously.

“Tony. Tony why is this bear tipping its hat at me?” Rhodey asked, gaze fixed on their small visitor inspecting a vase twice his size. He hadn’t expected his fiancé back anytime soon, but he sure as hell hadn’t expected him to tag along a wild animal dressed like a preschooler. Tony kicked his shoes off and threw his jacket over a chair before scooting over to Rhodey.

“It’s a long story, but a funny one, I promise. But first,” Tony got on his tiptoes, cupped Rhodey’s face and planted a quick, but firm kiss on his lips, “I’m sorry. I’m an idiot and you’re way too sweet to me. Honestly, way, way too sweet. I’m so lucky to have you.” He underlined every sentence with another kiss, and Rhodey couldn’t help but smile into them before gently pushing Tony away.

“Not that I’m one to turn down such an apology, but help me out here. You come home upset, you snap at me for offering you a bubble bath. You go because you need some air. You come back and bring plenty of these, “ another kiss, “and. Well. An upright walking, dressed up bear.”

“Oh, he talks, too,” Tony added, looking over where Paddington got cornered by their cats Susu and Mochi. The third one, Jonathan, was rubbing his cheek on Tony’s leg with a loud purr. “But yeah, since we parted I met fuzzy over there and had plenty of sled dog discourse, so-”

“Oh don’t tell me you ranted over Togo again,” Rhodey interrupted him, the look on Tony’s face telling him he hit bulls eye.

“How on earth would you know-”

“Because I was present at your first MIT campus party, and one of the unlucky people witnessing your drunk monologue over, what did you call it? ‘America's biggest canine tragedy’, if I’m correct,” Rhodey grinned and picked up Jonathan before he could commit homicide on Tony for ignoring him.

Just as he was about to ask Rhodey if he had any proof to back up this scrumptious accusation, they were startled by a loud clang, and an early MARK’s helmet rolled into the living room, followed by Paddington.

“Apologies, Mr. Stark, I didn’t mean to knock it over! I was just wondering where you’re keeping your marmalade sandwiches in this, and then it went tumbling all of a sudden, “ the bear hurried to explain, picking the helmet up carefully.

“Marmalade sandwiches?” Rhodey asked, his eyebrow raising the very moment JARVIS informed them that the Browns had arrived to pick Paddington up.

Tony shrugged. “I’ll explain later. Gotta drop fuzzy off in the lobby first. Then we’ll talk, okay? And kiss. Lots of kissing. Actually, we could drop the talking for star-”

“Go and return your teddy, before he starts shedding. No offense, Paddington,” Rhodey laughed.

“None taken, Sir,” Paddington replied as he and Tony entered the elevator once again. Tony pressed the button for ground level before turning back to Rhodey, meeting his eyes.

“Love you, Platypus.”

“Love you too, Tones,” Rhodey answered, and the elevator doors closed over his smile.

#tony stark #james rhodes #rhodey x tony #tonyrhodey #ironhusbands #paddington #my fics #listen idk what rode me here #but i sure as hell had a great time writing it

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nitrateglow · 4 years

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For the ranking ask: Alan Arkin, Gene Kelly, Claude Rains, Katharine Hepburn

ALAN ARKIN

5. Deadhead Miles - There are so many subtle details and touches in Arkin’s characterization that elevate what looks like a drugged up manchild into a rather lonely, sad figure. You get the sense he’s lost anything that anchors him (a family, religion, etc.) and he’s just coasting through life, conning people for kicks more than anything, though he still has a soul and can feel badly for people worse off than himself.

4. The Heart is a Lonely Hunter - Totally heartbreaking performance, yet without an iota of self-pity or bathos. Also, his use of ASL looks very convincing. It makes me sad Arkin didn’t really do more dramatic work of this caliber in the 70s and 80s.

3. The In-Laws - In terms of his pure comedies, this is Arkin’s best that I’ve seen. He plays a straight-laced guy thrown into chaos and his reactions are not mugging, but sheer, void-staring horror and that is hilarious.

2. Catch-22 - Probably Arkin’s technical “best” role or the one that seems most representative of his penchant for the strange, dark comedies where he seems to be most at home. Having read the book first and pictured Yossarian differently, I wondered if he would fit the part. Ultimately, he was perfect at capturing the essence of this classic character.

1. Wait Until Dark - I mean, was there ever any doubt this is my favorite? I can’t resist a bad guy and Roat is one of the best “for the evulz” bad guys ever.

Arkin could have easily just played this character as a boilerplate psycho, but he instead emphasizes the “actor” element of the character, not just in how seriously he takes the roleplaying in the con, but even when he’s being “himself.” He feels like a demon masquerading at being human and the effect is uncanny.

As much as I enjoyed Stacey Keach’s cocaine-fueled scenery-chewing in the 1982 TV adaptation of Wait, it made me appreciate Arkin’s chilling, low-key menace all the more. Like, I love how he never shouts at Susy when trying to intimidate her: he speaks softly, even amiably, which is a sign of his complete confidence-- much more terrifying than a screaming nut TRYING to scare you. In fact, he only shouts when he’s scared, which is just a brilliant choice.

Also, he manages to be quite hot despite having a terrible haircut. A++

GENE KELLY

5. Brigadoon - So, I’m putting this one here mainly because I don’t remember a lot of it, but I saw this movie at an impressionable age (probably eight or nine) and recall being spellbound by it. Kelly plays a man torn between two worlds-- pretty much literally-- and I recalled being very moved by his romance with Bonnie Jean.

4. The Pirate - So, I’m not crazy about this movie, but Kelly is fun in it from what i recall. Also, he wears tons of ass-hugging, form-fitting 19th-century clothes that make the movie worth every minute.

3. Inherit the Wind - A pure dramatic role where Kelly plays a snarky journalist covering a thinly veiled version of the Monkey Scopes trial in the 1920s. While more of a supporting role, he makes a big impression and I love the way he calls the chimp “GRANDPA!”

2. The Three Musketeers - If Doug Fairbanks never made his version of The Three Musketeers, Kelly would be my favorite D’Artagnan. As it is, he’s second and just as perfect for the role as you would imagine.

1. Singin in the Rain - He’s most remembered for this movie for a reason. He got to be funny, glamorous, and romantic all in one. The “Singin’ in the Rain” number is now so iconic that I think Kelly’s acting gets overlooked a bit in it. He’s just so giddy there-- it’s so sweet and endearing that I can get why A Clockwork Orange recontextualizing that song upsets people lmao.

CLAUDE RAINS

5. The Adventures of Robin Hood - Basil Rathbone is more of the main bad guy in this movie, I guess, but Rains was my favorite of the villains. He’s so fey and deliciously wicked. And Rains really rocks that wig and tunic.

4. The Invisible Man - Only a voice for 99% of the runtime, but damn, he makes an impression.

3. Notorious - A sign of a great actor-- Rains made even a gross ass Nazi likable-- at least at first!

2. The Phantom of the Opera - Rains really made just a great Phantom. He’s not the most lethal or openly menacing, but he is just so tragic and passionate. When he starts reacting very emotionally when he learns his music has been stolen-- oh man. I have not seen the movie in years but that scene plays in my mind with such vividness, especially Rains’ impassioned, enraged line reading.

Rains also benefits from a really nasty-looking makeup. My own skin tingles seeing it. (Take note, Gerard Butler and Julian Sands!)

1. Casablanca - A typical choice? Okay yes. But I just love Captain Renault so much! His witticisms help make Casablanca the classic it is and I love his banter with Rick throughout the movie.

KATHARINE HEPBURN (I am shocked by realizing how little of her bonafide classics I have seen... and with the exception of The Philadelphia Story, I’ve actually only seen these others once and a while ago, so forgive the brevity)

5. Christopher Strong - I don’t really like this movie very much, but Hepburn is fabulous. She makes her strong-willed character so likable that when the “respectable” characters get their happy ending and she doesn’t, you’re just so angry.

4. The African Queen - I recall liking her performance when I saw the film years ago, but aside from her chemistry with Bogie, I can’t go into detail. Sorry.

3. The Lion in the Winter - Her sparring with O’Toole is so entertaining.

2. Suddenly, Last Summer - Among the Tennessee Williams adaptations, this one does not get much press and that’s a shame because Hepburn’s villainous southern aristocrat is chilling to the bone. You just absolutely hate her with relish.

1. The Philadelphia Story - Tracy Lord as a character-- abrasive, arrogant, sneering-- should annoy me. But she’s just so damned likable. Hepburn’s blend of fire and hidden vulnerability make this screwball heroine (or “goddess” if you will) so very appealing. The studio apparently wanted Norma Shearer in the role, but as much as I love her, I think Hepburn was the best choice and she gave a classic performance.

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gotatext · 5 years

Text

by this point im p sure u all know the drill.... i’m nora, 23, she/her, gmt and tonight matthew im going to be greta o’driscoll, a terrible person but a hot one which frankly makes it almost ok. here is her pinterest..... this intro is literally just copied n pasted frm the last time i played her so soz if u’ve read it like 10+ times....

「 diana silvers. cis-female. 」have you seen greta o’driscoll around yet? i hear she decided to be in POTENTAS for their SOPHOMORE year as a CRIMINAL PSYCHOLOGY major. the 20 year old SHEPHERD is known to be tenacious, magnetic, capricious and evasive. ➨ the muse is written by nora, she/her, gmt.

was adopted as an infant. had two foster moms and two older sisters so always surrounded by women. lived in a boarding house, very much like the one in 20th century women, with lodgers coming in and out all the time, mostly artsy young women because her gay moms were both high school teachers trying to set up their own arts collective. one of her moms left when she was 4, n she doesn’t really remember her.

while living with entirely women made her super into catlin moran and the guilty feminist, as a teenager she often let boys walk all over her bc she just craved male attention jst bcos she’d never really experienced it. saw it as something aspirational, like sitting in the back of chad’s second-hand truck while he drove you to macdonalds and offered you and his five friends with identical haircuts weed was the height of being cool to greta, she wanted to be their dream girl, even if it meant compromising her beliefs

was always a really sporty bitch. it started with a junior athletics squad, which turned into athletics and cheer, which then became athletics, cheer and hockey until she basically was doing a different activity every night. she came to see her body as a tool that she could make work for her if she trained it up and this attitude’s always kind of stayed with her that as long as her body is strong she is capable of anything. runs every day.

bubbly bitch but also massive snake. metaphorically and literally, always shedding her skin. loyal to few, ruled by none, out for herself, babey!! every place she goes, she becomes a new character, someone who’s a figment of her imagination, as if each city is repertory theatre and she’s a character actress, so as a result som ppl think she’s called rita, some ppl know her as margot, she just flicks through identities like nobodies business.

left school at 18 n went backpacking around the states making money in the casinos by being a shot girl (yeehaw) and trying to make it as a mysterious 1920s widow with a smoky voice, a dark secret n a heart of gold, looking for love in the big city. all she found was producers and acting agents who’d promise her stardom n actually just fuck her in a motel n then ignore her calls.

TW domestic violence, TW gun, her watershed moment came when she met luke in sioux falls while she was working at a strip club. he was a few years older and had a car, and they kind of went from seeing each other to being that super intense couple who are just necking all the time.

they got engaged like 3 months after they met n rented a flat together, much to her family’s annoyance but she was 19 so there wasn’t much they could do. their relationship was super super intense though, often really heightened and when they fought it could become quite violent, but she’d pass it off as just him being really passionate.

she’s now under witness protection, rehoused in livingstone as a sports-scholarship student, due to the amount of police involvement in the area, it would mean should one of luke’s family members try to track her down, she’d be relatively safe

massive sports fanatic. plays tennis. on the cheer team. was a track superstar in her high school. honestly just that sporty bitch, you’ll see her doing lines at a party at half four and then on your way to your 9am lecture you see her running across the park like a fresh fucking daisy who is this bitch. maybe it’s maybelline, maybe its coke.

massive feminist. low key quite scared of powerful men bcos of her ex. wants to start a female only lesbian commune bc she misses her childhood in a south dakota boarding house and has endless support for women. honestly annoyed that she is attracted to men, would so be 100% gay if it was a choice. cuffs her jeans and can’t drive. is That bisexual. skateboards. wears backwards caps. i hate her

isn’t a foward-planner, however. greta prefers to leave her options open, play the field, live in a spontaneous manners so her study style is mostly cramming a few days before a test, or staying up all night writing an essay on a massive adrenline boost powered by red bull or probably adderall, scribbling (or typing) furiously into the night.

has an addictive personality. seems unable to do anything in a small dose, she has to let it utterly consume her. with sports, she’s fiercely competitive. with alcohol, it’s never a shot, it’s a whole bottle – wine or whiskey – she’ll be table dancing before the night’s up and making out with someone she’ll regret in the morning.

not afraid to go after what she wants !! ambitious academically and romantically thirsty !! she loves the adrenaline of the chase. when someone’s easy to get, she becomes bored. very bisexual and very proud of it. feminist as fuck nd part of a queer representation in the arts group which holds fortnightly meetings to discuss lgbt representation in film, literature, art etc.

old soul in a young person’s body. all the shit that has gone on has kind of aged her. she’s quite cynical about everything now. always smoking smoking smoking. very edie sedgwick in that way. little girls skirts bought for next-to-nothing at the market because she’s skinny enough to get away with it, barely long enough to cover your bum, and then the ugliest baggy sweater you’ve ever seen thrown over it.

likes old things. old books, old music, old houses, it reminds her of happier times like when she wasn’t alive. buys all her music on vinyl and has a gramphone because “The Sound quality is Better” kfdsjj.

super into pop art and andy warhol. puts female friendships above everything but at the same time, would fuck her best friends man

her clothing style is like…. vintage thrift store but make it preppy. berets and cute hats, neck scarves, large fluffy cardigans or like those leathery jackets with big suede fringes on them, mini skirts (very 70s), and knee high socks or boots. quite often she’ll be in sports kit, maybe a cute tennis skirt, n when she’s feeling casual she’ll wear like, a talking heads tshirt with a pair of mom jeans and converse, but otherwise, the library is her catwalk.

aesthetics:

a bubble of pink gum on chapped lips, mom jeans, a beaten up pair of adidas, denim jackets, strawberry laces, knee-highs, chapped lips, peeling sticky plasters, split knuckles, bruises you try to cover with concealer, stick and poke tattoos, hot coffee, sleep caught in your eyes on a lazy afternoon, kissing girls, cigarette smoke shrouding you like a veil, alien conspiracy theories and sci-fi paperbacks, doc martens with fraying laces, the red string of a thong peaking out purposely from jeans, leonine arch of your back and that stellar smile that says ‘you have no idea who you’re dealing with’, a rucksack permanently packed for the move, a streak of red across your lips, roller blades, cut knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, and piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your mom wouldn’t take you, kate moss posters lining the walls of a teenage bedroom, his name scrawled in rage across the pages of a diary, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, a tennis racket you punched through in a fit of temper, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes.

wanted plots

frinds !! unlikely friends !! toxic friends !! former best friends separated by sports rivalries ! sporting friends who are on other teams but who she absolutely loves playin against!!!

since greta literally can’t differentiate between romantic and platonic love, she’s got off with so many of her mates, so i want awkward friendships where they nearly dated, or exes that have now just turned into weird friendships

girls from the cheer team who she’s like, weirdly intimate with like the shower together but its not a Thing cos the other girls straight !!! what do u mean !! aha just fun !

and I want like, fellow criminology students who are like?? how is this bitch still passing?? i swear she goes out every night??

she works part time at a fast food restaurant, i want a mate that just goes and sits in there talking to her until her manager gets angry.

ppl she did a few modules with ie. art history, bio-med, film studies, before changing course and somehow sort of remaining in touch with

ppl who she runs track with.

someone she’s trying to make a zine with.

here’s a list of plots on her old blog if u want any of them w her.

would love plots of any type, throw them all at me please, i cnt wait to interact w all of u. like this if u want me to message you about connections / plots! xo

full biography if u can be bothered

trigger warnings: drugs, domestic abuse, gun.

you never meant for it to happen. you’d heard the stories, of girls who let their man walk all over them, and thought to yourself “i’ll never be one of those girls…” the kind that eat low-fat yoghurt and drink slim fast to shred a few extra pounds because he said she was getting round in the tummy, or the ones who spent their evenings tied to a kitchen sink drinking wine while him and the boys played poker, wishing god, if only I could get out of here. not you, not you raised by strong women, four bright shining beacons. single mother with her hard-as-nails attitude and her stony glares, elder sisters (twins) one ginger, one blonde, one doctor, one lawyer, both determined to take a bullet to the brain and a hammer to the patriarchy before they let a man touch them without asking. you were always so inferior, so insecure and small, like a bird (like a sparrow) with blonde plaits down your back sucking tropicana whilst your busom buds sucked dick, their lips permanently ripe with stories of their sexual exploits, fake tan and glittered nails whilst you sat in the unbroken egg of virginity wondering what it was like to be loved. one day you found out.

lily milligan’s parents gone and a free house for the night, bottles of ouzo and tequila swiped from your mother’s liquor cabinet thinking she wouldn’t know (she always knew) your legs, hardened from pep squad, slut dropping on a kitchen table because the boys thought it would be fun to get the quiet girl drunk. you’d never had a sip before that night. band t-shirts, denim shorts and the split soles of rotten converse that you refuse to let go of, you still clutched with both hands to your youth, but in a tube top now (borrowed from alice carmichael who had a sister in college) and a short tennis skirt, your feet not in trainers but in thigh-high boots. uncomfy as hell but lily said you needed to look sexy. you didn’t know if you wanted to be sexy. you didn’t know what kind of girl you were, if you were even a girl at all. but robbie looked at you like he knew exactly who you were, like he knew you better than you knew yourself, and his lips had the pink cupid’s bow of a movie star, and his hair was dark locks, curling like a mane. his hands were soft, and suddenly on your waist, and after three more shots his lips were on yours and his name was the only sound in your head and on your lips as you lost it in lily’s college sister’s bedroom beneath the glare of a T-Pain poster. you bled for what seemed like hours, his hand still in yours, kissing on the sofa as truth tellers and dare devils continued to spin a bottle of unprecedented youth. you thought it was love. robbie was the one. he loved you, you knew it, how else could someone be so soft? but soon he grew bored, scrunched up your paper heart and set it alight. then came the tears, the hatred, the ‘fuck robbie, in fact, fuck all boys.’ and that you did.

you were known for being easy. any boy could be yours for a night, as long as he promised to love you for those few short breaths and pants before you cried yourself to sleep. you felt poisoned, but poisonous as well, as if by ensnaring these young boys you were gaining power over them, and not the other way around. soon it started to work. they’d want more, but you’d deny them it, sick of sucking off silly schoolboys, they’d call you a tease, a vixen. maybe you were, but you couldn’t help but want older men. you got the history teacher first time, him bending you over his desk to sneak a hand up your tennis skirt as the after-school clubs carried on next door, unawares. love didn’t exist, not for you. it was nothing but a game for pretty young girls to play, bubble gum in their canines and a hand tugging at the hem of their cheer skirt.

there was so much anger inside of your small body, ‘beware of boys and their hook-like words’. hockey helped. there was something formidable about the feeling of a stick like a weapon in your hands and the thwack it made against thighs in the heat of a scrum - “slipped, sorry!” - you’d utter with a snakeskin smile, millicent quinn knowing that you’d hit her on purpose because she shagged robbie at that party last week. she couldn’t prove it, cobbled acne on her forehead turning green with disgust. ben came into your life like a car crash. two years your senior, with a baseball jacket and shoulders like a god. he became your personal hero. on the pitch, he was lethal. together, you could bring anyone to their ruin. each day after last period he’d be waiting in his car. you’d leap into his arms like a girl-half starved, love me, love me, love me, your heated kisses the envy of every junior girl. he was yours for three blissful years, utterly yours, and you were his, his star-spangled girl, and he was your knight - you were both the same, playing games, always difficult to predict. it was a shock to all when he proposed, high-school sweethearts find love in south dakota.

the engagement was a bittersweet affair; three months – you barely out of your gingham print skirts and into a graduation gown, him, a surly quarterback towering above your sisters, cigarette at his lips and a scowl like a fart in a lift. they hated him. so did you. but you were eighteen and in love, and he fitted the cookie cutter mould. everyone wanted him, and you had him. you had him and you were happy, happy, happy, and he loved you. he said he’d give you the world, anything you wanted hand-picked and given to you. instead, he gave you a jack russell terrier and a flat you couldn’t swing a cat in, wallpaper peeling like the rotten bits inside of you, the bits that only he knew. and you got tireder and tireder of the sad excuse of a life he’d picked out for you, him out doing god knows what to pay the bills, and you dancing on tables to pave your way to stardom, and this was love, this was real, until the shine wore off and your fresh-faced, dimple-cheeked cheerleader facade faded and the ugliness started to reveal itself, the whining, the petulance, the sharp-tempered cruelty, the mind games, the need to always win, win, win. he was dull, he was boring, he was nothing like the boy the girls had said he was and no chiselled six pack could hide his lack of anything remotely interesting, your patience wearing thin until it snapped like rubber, a rucksack on your back, running shoes on your feet and the joint bank account emptied into your eighth grade birthday wallet.

you built your small fortunes working the casinos of sioux falls, a crimson dress and an attitude to match. bookish archie with his little dipper freckles was fun for a month, before he became just as dull and dreary as the rest. a three hour bus and you were in minneapolis, bright eyed and bushy tailed, fresh meat ready for the pickings. a hostel here, a friendly co-worker’s sofa there as you made what you could by taking off your clothes and shaking your ass like you were back in pep squad, doing what you did best. you met your fair share of creeps, and soon it was back on the road to escape a wide-eyed stalker and a restless itch for more. milwaukee, chicago, you made the roads your own. log cabins and lodgings, and the occasional motel, a beaten up pick up truck purchased at a scrap merchants – you got a few miles out of it before it bit the dust, and when you finally set it alight after nights spent lounging across the driver’s seat, a parka tucked over you as a duvet, you were sad to see it go. you’re nomadic by fault, never attaching to place, people or things, creating a new personality in every place you go like a character actress; each town is a different repertory theatre, and you’re the star. a compulsive liar, you even fib about your own name, to some you’re ellen, nineteen, bookish, a law student who likes smoking and cosmos. to someone else you’re rita, you’re twenty five and look young for your age, like smoking, comics and fucking in public places.

in the bright lights of michigan, you found charlie, sweet charlie, too good for you, though you let him spoil you while he thought you were the small town girl of his dreams. next came abigail, who was fun until the jealously kicked in, and then luke, gorgeous luke, dangerous, exciting, who despite his temper, despite the fights, despite bruises down your spine and your teeth marks on his arms, loved you with the strength of a wild fire. there was destruction in your wishbones, a savageness from the field, from the pitch and now somehow in his arms, you were godly. he was cruel, he was careless, and he refused to fall at your feet like so many other boys had, which only you made you want him all the more. you were rage incarnate. you hated him so fiercely you thought you might kill him, so he played the only card you wouldn’t predict; proposed.

the house you shared was a backstreet flat in detroit, you making your name as a downtown singer while he footed the bill with pills. they had a drug for anything these days, to dull the senses, to pick them up, to drive you to insanity or pull you out of the madness hole. the two of you lived like criminals on the run (you never told him that you were, living out your days as the enigma he wanted you to be), you with your voice like caramel and fishnet legs. you were his and his alone until his hand was at your throat and the gun was in your hands screaming at him to stop, stop, stop, until a bullet stoppered his brain, crimson staining linoleum as you cast yourself out like lucifer. self defence was decreed the moment they saw your violet neck, black tears and headlight eyes and mind screaming red, red, red like the pom-poms you shook so willingly in school and the insides of his skull. you were gone, and “you” was born, renamed “greta”, boxed, shipped-out, and next-day delivered to livingstone where under witness protection you were a student, blank slate, fresh-faced in a place where no one knew your name, doing what you always did and starting again.

#this is soooOoOOO fuckin long cos every time i play greta i add more shit to it..... her seventh form will just be an entire fuckin novel.#anyway call me beep me if u wanna reach me #aka pls msg me either here or on discord. my discord is linday lohan's meth8664 #wshedintro

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i-am-a-mes · 5 years

Text

Love Uncovered Ch. 6

Plot: The story is set in 1920s London, where Tom Hiddleston is put on the case of Y/N Chudwell’s husband murder. Will he solve it? Will she keep her social status? Or will they uncover something even bigger?

A/N: Holy moly it’s been a while! But finally back at it. The tension and excitement level will rise from now on. Hope you will enjoy it.

Warning: Mention of murder, mention of bad guys, woman in bad circumstances, suspence? A cliffhanger.. i know, the drama has to happen!

Thanks to my darling @jj-trickster for being my beta!

Series Masterlist

Chapter 6

While Tom went over the casefile, he couldn’t keep her out of his mind. Every now and again her delicate features crossed his mind and he stopped what he was doing at the moment and began daydreaming. After a few minutes he would resume his work but still with a smile on his lips.

Jonathan’s alibi needed to be checked and there was only one way he could do that; go to Villiers.

As the Inspector walked through the street and looked around, he knew instantly why this was the worst street in London. Homeless people sleeping under the arches and every few meters women of the night stood waiting, even boys too. The air was filled with sounds and smells of the street’s inhabitants and after searching for a while, he found the pub that Jonathan had mentioned.

As he entered the smell of beer, whiskey and smoke hit his nose, the air was dense with chatting, yelling and laughing. He looked around, and a few men from the corners of the bar eyed him. He knew he stood out like a sore thumb, and he reeked of police, but he didn’t want to hide it. He wanted them to know he was there. Tom approached the barkeep, who was cleaning a glass with a towel.

“Excuse me sir?” He asked politely. But no response.

“I need to talk to a lady who might be here…” Tom made sure the question was laced with undertones of nerves and caution - He knew that if he approached this correctly he would seem like a copper who was looking for some entertainment for himself and not one looking for answers. It apparently worked as the barkeep stopped cleaning his glass and hunched over the bar.Tom also noted that the people who had eyed him since he entered were more relaxed, since they overheard the question.

“What kind of lady?” asked the barkeep, who sported a thick handlebar mustache and wore a dark brown bowler.

“Well.. ahem.. Heard of a lady called Scarlet.. She was recommended to me..”

The Inspector played the character of the shy, bashful copper perfectly. He fiddled with his gloves and managed to make his cheeks blush.

“Ha! Yeah… I know Scarlet.. Sure you can handle a woman like her?... Hmm.. you are quite the tall fella.. “

The barkeep eyed the Inspector up and down, and with a smug look he continued.

“Go to the table by the stairs, and she will be with you in 10.”

He directed Tom with his thumb over his shoulder to show him the small table with a single chair, nestled by a staircase.

“Oh.. thanks.. Can I get a glass of whiskey?”

With another smirk the barkeep served him his whiskey, and as Tom was reaching for it, he leaned over and whispered in the barkeep’s ear

“I hope I can trust you not to mention to anyone that I was here”

with the last words, the Inspector slid over 20£ over to the man behind the bar, who raised an eyebrow and nodded slowly.

Tom sat at the table and drank his whiskey. He hated to drink on the job, but he needed to look the part of a copper trying to stay low while visiting a lady of the night.

Soon laughter was heard and among the male voices a loud lady’s voice broke the room.

“Oh boys.. You are too much! I’m not sure you can handle all this woman!”

More laughter and then Tom saw her. Wearing a black embroidered dress that was see-through in all the right places, a large feather boa around her arms and visible girdles holding up her black stockings, a woman with big voluptuous curves swung her hips around the tables and over to the bar. Red lipstick graced her lips and her hair was red as fire in a short haircut with a pearl headband across her bangs. As she talked to the barkeep her piercing green eyes looked over to the Inspector in the corner. The inspector had to admit she was beautiful, but more because of her attitude and confidence. He saw every man looking at her, and she enjoyed it. Soon he saw her walk across the room towards him with an extra sway of her big hips. Inspector Hiddleston soon fell back into character and as she stood in front of him, he got up and gulped.

“Hello there fella.. So I hear a handsome man like you was asking for a little girl like me.. I must say I’m flattered.”

Every word oozed sex and lust, and he thought how good she was at her job. Tom barely nodded and took his hat in his hand.

“... So, Uhmm.. “

“Oh honey, don’t worry.. I will be gentle with you. I always am when it’s your first time here” She winked and Tom made himself blush again.

They walked up the stairs and he followed her down a corridor with a lot of doors. He could hear explicit sounds and moans coming from the other rooms. As she opened the door, he entered slowly and turned around as she closed it.

“So… who are ya, and what do you want?”

Her sexy voice was gone and soon a thick Scottish accent replaced it. She pulled out a cigarette from her stocking and quickly lit it as she walked towards the Inspector.

He was taken aback a little by her change but couldn’t help be a bit amused.

“You are good… very good” He said.

“Thanks love.. You too.. You had the fools down there fooled, but love.. This ain’t my first rodeo with a copper… and you ain’t here for a spanking.. What are ya here for?”

She sat on her bed and crossed her legs as she blew out smoke and squinted her eyes at the tall police officer in front of her.

“My name is Tom Hiddleston, and I’m an Inspector. I am investigating a murder case and need to check an alibi. Something you might be able to help me with”

He stood a few feet from her and looked her right in the eyes as he spoke, something that apparently told her that he was serious about the ordeal.

A big drag of her cigarette and she leaned back on her elbows on the bed as she blew out the large puff of smoke.

“Well… Inspector.. I’m all yours for the next 30 minutes”

She smiled at him.

Tom sat down on a chair that he had pulled to the edge of the bed.

“Do you know a man named Jonathan? Jonathan Abernathy?”

She quickly sat up and looked for the first time with true sincerity at Tom.

“Jonny? Is he okay?”

He could hear the concern in her voice.

“Yes, for now at least. He told me he was with you on the night of the aforementioned murder… Can you confirm or deny this?”

The Inspector looked carefully at the woman’s face as she gave her answer; that she was indeed with him on the night in question. He could tell that this was the truth, it was so clearly written on her face that she liked Jonathan, might even say loved him.

“Oh Inspector.. What has my Jonny got himself into now?”

She took his hands in hers while she looked at him with such concern that he couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.

He then proceeded to tell her where he was and what had happened, but left out the names. “It’s his cousin, William, isn’t it? I told him to be careful.”

The redhead was now wandering around her room, and soon she sat down in front of her vanity and took off her pearl headband and looked at the Inspector through the mirror.

“Careful with what?”

Tom asked as he took a step towards her. She swirled around in her seat as she looked up at him.

“He did something so stupid… so sooo stupid.”

She took a breath as Tom sat beside her.

“We are in love. I know it’s silly, but I love him. My little Jonny! He wants me to get out of this life, but… but I can’t. I have a large debt and I’m stuck here till they say I can leave.”

A single tear fell over and landed on her cheeks. Tom pulled out a handkerchief to give to her, and as she dried her eyes, Tom asked

“Who are they?”

She looked up through her lashes and leaned towards him

“The Bucksons…” she whispered

Tom knew that name. It was a family that was hands deep in every criminal activity you could think of. Some even named them the mafia of London.

“Why do you have a debt to them?” He wondered

“Well.. how does anybody get in dept? I was a wee girl coming to London with all hopes of a better life, but ahh.. You see.. A man finds a girl, gets girl into bad circumstances and one needs to take care of that.”

A silence fell between them as she lit another cigarette.

“So the Bucksons helped me, but then I had to pay off the loan… the only way I knew how. But at least the “doctor”, or whatever he was, made sure that I’m all scrambled up inside so I can’t have any more mishaps. But Jonny doesn’t care. He loves me for me”

As another tear fell on her cheek she smiled at the thought of Jonathan.

The Inspector looked at his watch and knew he had to be going.

“Thank you so much. Here, take my card if you remember anything else, feel free to call me.” He shook her hand and as he was about to go to the door, Scarlet stopped him.

“Wait a minute. If we gotta fool the fools downstairs, you gotta look the part.”

Tom raised an eyebrow and before he knew it, his hair was tousled, tie was loosened and a couple of buttons on his shirt became undone. While Scarlet was making him look like a mess, she began to scream in front of him

“OHHH YEAH! THAT’S IT BIG BOY! COME TO MAMMA!” She raised an eyebrow at him so he could get the clue, and soon he understood as he began to fake some moans.

After a few moments she opened the door, and with a wink said to him

“Thanks for that darling. See you soon”

The words were said with the velvet, sexy accent from earlier, but before Tom could leave, she stuffed a note in his jacket pocket.

“Give it to Jonny please” Tom nodded slowly as he turned and left.

Because of his appearance, nobody looked twice at him, and before he left the pub, he nodded at the barkeep, who smirked back at him.

When Tom returned to his office at the police station, and was about to sit down in his chair after an already long day, his phone rang. He grumbled and picked up the phone

“Hello, Inspector Hiddleston here”

“Yes hello.. Inspector? It’s Christine. Oh my god, you need to come quickly. It’s Lady Chudwell.. She is missing”

@jj-trickster @adorecatwithglasses @lost-in-space707 @naniky @transprentnight @classicswolf @queen-of-elves @rekishiteki

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston x reader #tom x reader #fandom #fanfic #loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki x reader #MCU #thor #infinity war #endgame #au

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twopoppies · 6 years

Note

Any fics where you thought the pacing was spot on ? Or character development?

OK, this is actually a really hard request! So, I’m going to give you some that I think fit the bill. But note that there a few on this list that have great pacing but you might find the characterization, while very good, may not be the typical H/L characterizations you’re used to. But they’re too good not to rec! Hope that makes sense! Ok...thank you to my GCs for helping me brainstorm a bit!

Great Characterization and Pacing!

So here we are. by @sweariwouldnt (NR, 3.5K)

Louis isn't sure if they're keeping on or giving up.

One day to believe in you by Mediaville

A mysterious force compels Louis to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Even when it's really inconvenient.

Harry blinks and has the nerve to look surprised. "You think about me when you get off?"

"Yes," Louis says. He wonders how hard he'd need to punch himself in the face to knock himself out.

"Often?"

"Yes, Christ, Harry," Louis groans. "Probably eight times a week for going on six years now. On average, you know. More when we were touring, less when I've been visiting family. Anything else you'd like to know?"

So Much Left to Say by myownspark / @myownsparknow (M, 8K)

Reason #32: Cheer Someone Up.

Harry remembers Louis stalking along the Cougar’s sideline as the final seconds of the game ticked away. He was apart from everyone, with his arms crossed and his head down, sort of fragile looking even in his pads and helmet. Harry’s fingers actually itched to hold his hand, just as they do now.He holds the phone up to take a selfie and smiles into the camera, trying to ask Louis a question with his eyes. (Are you really okay? Tell me the truth. I bet you’re sitting on your bed, playing Madden, sulking. If you want to see me, I’ll come. I know you better than anyone. You’re sad. I’d like to come.)He pushes send.

(Harry and Louis play for rival high school football teams, and when they play against each other in the Homecoming game, someone has to lose.)

love to make him moan by say_thanks (E, 8K)

they fuck like they're sex starved, when they're really, really not.

Alien Roadtrip! by @helloamhere (M, 16K)

For the first time in his life, Louis doesn’t know where he’s going. Harry doesn’t mind.

OR: roadtrip with desert feelings, too much snack food, and empty motels. Harry is definitely absolutely not an alien. That would be ridiculous.

With love comes strange currencies by Mediaville (E, 16.5K)

One day One Direction will be over and Louis won't be around Harry every waking moment. He'll be able to finally get some space, let their bond dissipate as it's bound to do, if they don't mess up again. He can move to Costa Rica and forget that Harry Styles popped his first knot inside him. Until then, he's going to have to deal with this.

or, They're Accidentally Mated and Dealing With It Rather Badly.

Don’t Let the Tide Come and Take Me by kiwikero / @icanhazzalou (M, 29K)

The aquarium in the lobby has been there as long as Louis can remember, and so has the merman inside. That is, until the day Louis loses his job and decides to set the creature free.

They set off on a road trip to the sea, learning to communicate more and more each day. Their destination is LA, but the closer they get and the more Louis gets to know the merman, the more he dreads having to say goodbye.

Or, the one where Louis decides to set a merman free and ends up finding his own freedom along the way.

Be My Little Good Luck Charm by 100percentsassy (E, 35K)

In which Harry is a promising amateur golfer making his debut at the PGA Championship, and Louis is a Sky Sports anchor who would really rather be commentating on footie.

The other boys are around too: caddy!Niall provides victory pints, Liam is Louis's Very Serious co-anchor, and poor Zayn just gets his face drawn on.

Yellow by 13ways / @13ways-of-looking (E, 85K)

The city of Gotham turns blood red with a new, mysterious criminal element, a beautiful woman named the Blind Cupid.

She threatens to tear the fabric of the city apart, aided by her deadly protégé, the Cat.

Can Batman stop them?

Will he resist the bewitching allures of the Cat?

A Batman/ Catwoman AU

(Take Me Home) Country Roads by Awriterwrites / @a-writerwrites (E, 86K)

“Sir, I can help you. Just let me — “ He tried moving closer but the eldest child blocked his way. He backed off, putting his hands out in a passive gesture. “I’m a physician. I can help,” he tried again.

The man shook his head vehemently, passing the cup back to his grandchild. “Tol’ ya. Don’t need ya.” All of the fire had gone out of his voice, leaving behind a frail, sick old man with barely any breath to talk.

“I have medicines...I could make you comfortable…” Louis’ voice was still small, but pleading.

“Mountain Mama cares for wha’s ailin’ me. Don’t need no fancy city doctors.”

Louis blinked at the man, still shaking from the coughing spell. Mountain — well, fuck. That backwoods, uneducated scam artist…

“Of course he is,” Louis said curtly.*****OR a Northern Exposure AU featuring Louis as the big city doctor, Harry as a natural healer, Niall as a secretive barkeep, Liam and Zayn head over heels for each other but they don't know it and a lot of hurt, comfort and moonshine in between.

Like an Endless Summer by objectlesson / @horsegirlharry

“You just wanna go fawn over Styles as soon as possible,” Zayn grumbles.

“I do not. Plus, he probably got ugly this year. Eighteen is an awkward time...I bet he’s got acne and one of those terrible fuckboy haircuts all the hipsters are getting these days, with the shaved sides? Just watch, the first year we’re gonna get any time together is gonna be the first year I don’t have a stupid crush on him.”

---

Or, Louis is a riding instructor at a summer camp, and Harry is a fellow counselor who he’s been successfully managing his crush on for the last two summers. That is, until Harry shows up this year leveled up and lethal, and all Louis’s formerly perfected veneer of nonchalance melts like a popsicle in the sun.

Your Name Is Tattooed On My Heart by Mcpofife (E, 87K)

Louis is ready to find the love of his life, but first he has to stop falling for the punk rocker next door.

Through Erie Chaos by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics (G, 102K)

For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead.

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

my heart is breathing for this moment in time by usedtothebeach (E, 160K)

When Louis first saw Harry at the 2010 X Factor Auditions, he thought he was watching a peculiarly special stranger. But Harry has known Louis ever since he was five years old.

Because Louis has a rare genetic disorder that causes him to Time Travel to important moments in his past and in his future - and to Harry, always to Harry. When they're put into a band together, it seems like everything Harry has been waiting and wishing for has finally come true. Except for the small fact that Louis doesn't know that Harry is in love with him- that Harry's always been in love with him. Fate, it would seem, is just getting started.

A story about growing up and growing together, and the impossible love that makes it all worthwhile.

I feel certain that I’ve forgotten some that I love...but I hope this is a good start!

#my fic rec #larry fic rec #great characterization and pacing #Anonymous

167 notes · View notes

emma-nation · 6 years

Text

For You - Bloodbound AU (Chapter 2)

Summary: Takes place after Book 1. Before Gaius’ return the gang must face a dangerous new enemy, a powerful vampire hunter who is thirsty for their blood.

Pairings: KamilahxMC

Genre: Angst/Adventure/Romance

Rating: T - Warning for violence and language

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2)

Author’s Notes:

- English is my second language, please forgive me for any mistakes. - Hope you enjoy it, your reviews and likes are always appreciated.

- Please don’t hate me yet :P

- Updated 04/11/2020: Fixed some spelling mistakes

Flashback - 3 weeks earlier:

Amy turned on the television but nothing was enough to keep her distracted, to prevent her from thinking about Kamilah. All she wanted was to forget about her, erase her completely from her mind. It was impossible, she knew. Kamilah Sayeed was unforgettable. Somebody knocked at the door. She wasn't expecting any guests and Lily was spending the night at the Shadow Den. When she opened it, Kamilah was standing there. She wasn't wearing a business outfit as usual, she was wearing jeans and a tank top. "Damn it," Amy thought as soon as she laid her eyes on her. Even the most casual outfit made her look sexy as hell. "Amy..." Kamilah started to speak. "What are you doing here, Kamilah?" Amy interrupted. "I think I made very clear last night that we're over." "Please, can you at least hear what I have to say?" Amy looked deeply in her brown eyes. She had never seen that look before. Kamilah looked vulnerable, insecure, regretful. In the moment there were no walls, Kamilah's human side was completely exposed. She was just like any other woman begging for a chance to apologize. "Okay," Amy invited her in. She bit her lip nervously when Kamilah sat next to her on the couch, like if she already knew she wouldn't be able to resist her. "Oh, these are for you," Kamilah handed her a bouquet of white tulips. "Thank you," Amy replied. "They're wonderful." "There's a card too." Amy noticed she looked down at the floor, blushing a little bit. "I tried to write many things but none of them expressed accurately my feelings for you," she spoke. "I heard this song on the radio a few days ago, it made me think about us." Amy opened the card and read:

"Then I see you standing there Wanting more from me But all I can do is try I'm all I'll ever be But all I can do is try"

"I'm sorry I left you waiting last night," Kamilah apologized. "Truth is, I'm still getting used to this." "Kamilah, I..." Amy didn't know what to say. "There's one more thing," she pulled a little black box from her pocket. "W-what..." Amy opened it and inside there was a keychain, with a single key. "What is that, Kamilah?" "Come live with me. It's the only way we can spend more time together and... I'll try to work less, I promise." "Are you sure you're ready for this?" Amy asked. "Yes," Kamilah said, "I don't wanna lose you."

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

Present Days:

Amy

In front of the mirror, Amy admired herself and her stunningly beautiful dress. The dress Kamilah surprised her with, a couple of days earlier. Initially, she didn't want to attend Priya's fashion show, but after Amy insisted a lot she eventually agreed. It was not a good idea to leave her girlfriend alone with Priya, after all.

"Amy," Kamilah opened the bedroom's door. "Why are you taking so long?"

"I'm sorry, I..."

When she turned around, Kamilah's eyes widened in surprise.

"Amy..." she opened a broad smile. "Oh my God, you..."

"What?" Amy looked at herself in the mirror again. "Is there anything wrong? Is it my hair?"

"No," Kamilah wrapped her arms around Amy's waist from behind. "You're absolutely perfect."

"Well, then we are. Look at you! I mean, you look gorgeous in everything you wear but this dress, this make-up... wow!"

"We'll be the sexiest couple in that event."

"I'm sure of this," Amy grabbed her phone and snapped a picture of them.

"There will be a lot of journalists and photographers there, are you ready for this? It's the first time I go to an event accompanied. Your face will be all over the news tomorrow."

"Are you asking me if I'm ready for the world to know I'm Kamilah Sayeed's girlfriend? You can bet I am!"

Amy smiled and pressed her lips on Kamilah's. When she pulled away, Kamilah's expression had changed.

"Before we go, there's something I need to do," she showed Amy an amulet with her Clan's brand. "Would you let me brand you? It's temporary, to protect you from The Baron's thugs."

"Of course," Amy presented her forearm.

Kamilah warmed the amulet with a lighter and pressed against Amy's wrist. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt so much as when Adrian branded her.

"Are you okay?" Kamilah healed the burn with her blood.

"Yes..." Amy answered, tracing the insignia with her finger, "I wish that was permanent though."

"We can discuss this in another occasion. In the future."

Amy nodded.

Kamilah sat on the bed, still with a serious and worried expression.

"Amy... there's something else I need to tell you,” she sighed. “Remember the Council meeting last week?"

"Of course. Is it about the Vampire Hunter?"

"Not really... this whole Vampire Hunter story was a fraud. In exchange for her life, Priya gave him some confidential information. Information about Gaius."

"What does it mean?"

"He has returned, Amy. Gaius has returned."

"W-wait so he's here... in New York?"

"He was trapped in a Sarcophagus inside the Museum's library. When Adrian checked, after the meeting, he wasn't there anymore. But he's still in a desiccated state, it'll take a while before he regains his true form. "

"Kamilah, I'm so sorry. I... How are you feeling about this?"

"I'm okay. It's about you I'm worried about. I'll be the first person he'll come after, seeking for revenge."

"Why?"

"It's time for you to know a part of my story."

Kamilah told her everything that happened in the 1920's. The Reaper virus, the rebellion against Gaius and how she was the one that took him down. When she finished, Amy squeezed her hand gently.

"You defeated him once, you can do it again. Besides, you have me by your side now. We'll fight together."

"He's not like the Ferals or Vega... He..."

"We'll fight together."

Amy held her face and pulled her for a long and passionate kiss.

"You almost make me believe everything is going to be okay."

"It's a progress," Amy chuckled. "There's something I need to tell you too. I've been planning to say it for a while now, but I couldn't find the right moment."

"What is this?"

"Kamilah... I love you."

Amy detected a trace of tension in her eyes. Kamilah looked astonished, she opened her mouth, trying to find an appropriate answer.

"I-I... Amy..."

"That's okay, don't feel forced to say anything right now. There will be one moment that you'll just realize it, like it happened to me."

"And what was that moment?"

"The day we fought, when you showed up at my door. In that moment I saw you. Not the vampire or the CEO, only you. Without walls or defenses, I saw who you truly are and how much we have in common. When you looked me in the eyes that day, I knew how much I loved you."

"And you made me think you wasn't going to forgive me!"

"I needed to punish you somehow!” Amy smiled playfully. “You left me waiting for 4 hours in a restaurant."

Kamilah rolled her eyes and Amy kissed her cheek.

"We should go now," Kamilah checked her watch, "unless you want to stay home instead of..."

"Come on, it'll be fun! Adrian and Lily will be there too and..." Amy whispered in her ear. "We don't really need to pay attention to the show."

"Sounds better now."

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

??????

He looked at the mirror, running his hand through his new 21st Century haircut. How did they call it again? Faux Hawk, that’s right.

Then he checked his new fake ID. Liam. Would he ever get used to that name?

But everything was going according to his plans. He examined a piece of paper he took out of his pocket;

"Priya... The Baron and... Jax," he read. He knew the name of three of the six Council members. Three possible targets. Where he should aim first?

Jax would be his last target. Not only because he couldn't blow his cover yet, but because he felt some sympathy for his clan members. Most of them were like him, turned without their consent and forced to live forever as something they hated to be, as demons. He liked to think of them as potential allies.

Priya was the best option at the moment. Through some other vampires at the Shadow Den, he found out she'd be throwing a fashion show to show off her new line. He also had personal business to deal with her.

"Hey Liam," his new vampire friend interrupted him on his way out of the Shadow Den. "Where are you going?"

Still not used to his new identity, he took a while to respond.

"I have a date tonight," he said, with a fake smile on his face.

"You didn't mention having a girlfriend."

"Yeah, we're only... getting to know each other."

"Good luck, man!"

He waved goodbye and followed to an old warehouse he bought from Clan Matsuo. They had become useless now they didn't have to hide anymore. He made his offer, with the excuse he needed a new building for his company, Thanos Technologies.

"What do you develop?" The other vampires asked.

"Computer stuff," he lied.

In the secret basement, a team of seven vampire hunters from every part of the world, waited for him. They were working hard, crafting different types of weapons.

"Sir," a young red-headed woman greeted him. "Everything's ready for tonight. We're just waiting for your orders."

That was Zoe, his most loyal partner. She lost her family to vampires when she was only a child. She had grown under his protection and became one of the most skilled vampire hunters in the world. She was the only one to know his real name, his story.

"Good, Zoey," he spoke. "Sit down, I'm going to explain my plan."

Liam stood in front of a large screen, displaying a map of The Crimson Veil.

"Ladies and gentleman, my friend Priya Lacroix will be throwing a fashion show tonight. As we know, she'll have some guests."

"Bloodsuckers," one of the hunters added.

"Exactly. We're in an unknown territory, we have no idea how powerful the famous Council of New York can be, so we're going in three members only. Me, Zoe and Henrik."

Henrik was his second strongest partner. He was also responsible for designing new and powerful weapons.

"Henrik, what do we have for tonight?" Liam asked.

"Vervain grenades, sir. As soon as the gas is leaked, we announce the attack. The humans will run, but the bloodsuckers will get stunned. And then..."

He opened a box full of stakes. Liam's eyes glowed.

"Meanwhile, I'll be in the backstage taking care of Priya," he grinned.

As they prepared to leave, he gave them the last instructions.

"Pay attention to their brands. If Gaius' brand is spotted, do NOT kill the target. Capture and bring it to me."

"Yes, sir," the two human hunters agreed.

"And remember, no mercy. They showed no mercy on our loved ones. Vampires are demons that deserve nothing else but death."

"For our loved ones," Zoe shouted.

"For our loved ones," Henrik shouted back.

"For our loved ones," Liam thought, holding a necklace tight in his hand.

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

Kamilah

"Ready?" Kamilah muttered to Amy as they walked inside The Crimson Veil.

Only a few steps away, journalists and photographers were grouped, waiting for the guests. Adrian was being interviewed, answering questions about the new technologies Raines Corporation was creating, in an attempt to minimize the damages caused by pollution and climate changes. As soon as Kamilah passed by, with Amy by her side, they quickly focused on her.

"Ms. Sayeed, to what do you owe the crescent success of your company, Ahmanet Financial?"

"Ms. Sayeed, you've recently closed a partnership with wildlife protection organizations. Could you tell us more about it?"

"Ms. Sayeed, is Priya Lacroix a close friend of yours? What's your opinion on her new line?"

Lost with so many questions at the same time, she did the best to reply them with short but efficient answers. She hated interviews and speculations about her personal life and career. She knew it was a matter of time until they asked about Amy.

"It's the first time you're publicly seen in the company of someone, Ms. Sayeed. Anything you'd like to tell us?"

"Is she a friend, a date or something more?"

Kamilah didn't know what to answer. She looked at Amy, that noticing her tension, responded for her.

"Who knows?" She winked to the journalists, as she held Kamilah's hand and dragged her away from them.

"Thank you," Kamilah whispered in her ear.

Inside The Crimson Veil, Lily and Adrian were already waiting for them.

"Amy, tomorrow you're going to be the hottest gossip in your hometown," Lily joked.

"I know," Amy laughed.

"Not only in your hometown," Adrian added. "Everybody wants to know how you managed to make Kamilah fall in love."

Kamilah frowned at him, who patted her slightly on the shoulder.

"Kamilah, would you follow me to the bar?" He invited.

She glanced at Amy.

"Go, I'll stay here with Lily saving our seats."

"Are you sure..."

"Kamilah, no one is going to attack me here. I'm safe."

Kamilah followed Adrian to the bar. By the look in his eyes, she already knew what he wanted to discuss with her.

"Any news?" She anticipated.

"Not yet," Adrian told. "The hunter made sure to leave Jameson unconscious when he broke into the library."

"What about Priya? Could you discover anything from the bite mark?"

"Our hunter has some magic knowledge. As soon as his fangs came in contact with her blood, a spell blocked its special abilities. It took a few days to get out of her system and heal the wound, but she's fine now."

Kamilah was thoughtful for a moment, recapitulating the eras she lived through. Never in her long life she ever heard anything about a vampire hunter, who was a vampire himself.

"That's so weird. If he's such a talented servant why Gaius never introduced him to us?"

"I've been asking myself the same question."

Adrian ordered drinks for both of them.

"So, how are things going with Amy?"

Kamilah's mouth curled up a bit in a smile.

"She said it tonight."

"That she loves you?"

Kamilah nodded.

"And what did you say?"

"Nothing yet. It just... won't come out."

"It will, in the right moment."

"That's what she said," Kamilah smiled.

"I've never seen you so happy before," Adrian said. "I'm glad for you both."

They clicked their glasses, enjoying their drinks in silence while observing the guests. Kamilah couldn't help thinking about Gaius being free. He could be there right now and they wouldn't know. The thought of him possibly hurting Amy started to give her shivers.

"Kamilah!" Lily approached, interrupting her thoughts.

"Anything wrong, Lily?"

"It's Amy, she's not okay."

In less than a second, Kamilah rushed back to Amy's side. She looked pale and her skin was cold. Her pupils were dilated and paralyzed.

"I called her but she's unresponsive," Lily shouted.

"Amy!" Adrian shook her, in a attempt to bring her back to the reality.

"I-I can't breathe," Amy finally muttered.

"Let's go outside," Kamilah helped her to get up and walk. "Maybe you need some fresh air."

After finding a bench to seat, Amy rested her head on Kamilah's shoulder breathing in and out until she finally calmed down. Suddenly, tears started to run across her cheeks.

"What's wrong?" Kamilah asked, wiping the tears with her thumb. "You scared me inside there."

"The first time I was here with Adrian I had a vision. Then it happened other times, at different places, random moments... but I couldn't remember them. They'd quickly fade away, like a dream. And now... I was there, Kamilah. I saw when he killed you!"

"Who?"

"Gaius. You were in a tent, dressed as an Egyptian Noble and your spymaster... Amethu! That was his name, right?"

Kamilah confirmed.

"He had captured Gaius but... oh my god... it was horrible," Amy started crying again.

"It happened a long time ago," Kamilah wrapped her arms around her. "Did you see anything else?"

"No, but I've had other visions before. They're somewhere in my mind I just can't remember right now."

They were in silence for a few minutes until Kamilah revealed:

"Amy, I did a lot of wrong in the past. I just want you to know that I'm no longer that person, I...

"Don't worry about it," Amy gave her a reassuring smile. "When I say that I love you, I really mean it. I love you for who you are, Kamilah. With all your flaws, your past, your fangs... If anything was different, then you wouldn't be you."

Kamilah felt her heart beating faster. She wanted to say it. She wanted to let Amy know she felt the same way about her. She was about to start speaking when terrified screams cut through the silent night. A group of people passed by them, desperately running away from something.

"What is that?" Amy questioned.

"I don't know, they're coming from Priya's studio."

They walked back to The Crimson Veil, in the middle of the crowd outside they spotted Adrian. He looked dazzled and confused.

"Adrian!" Kamilah shouted. "What's going on?"

Adrian cough, unable to speak.

"The hunters... they invaded... the studio."

"Did they do anything to you?"

"No... they leaked vervain gas... I'm getting better now, thanks."

"Should we..."

"No. It's too dangerous."

"Where's Lily?" Amy panicked. "I-I can't find her anywhere..."

"She was sitting right next to me," Adrian told. "But after the gas... I couldn't see anything."

"I'm going in there."

"Amy, no," Kamilah stopped her.

"I won't let them hurt Lily, Kamilah. I'm human, they won't do anything against me."

Kamilah watched as Amy disappeared inside the building. It was useless to try to change her mind. When it was about Lily she wouldn't think twice before putting herself in risk.

"How many hunters are in there?"

"I don't know exactly," Adrian answered. "Two or three, I guess."

When he looked, Kamilah was already entering the building.

The gas was still in the air. As it filled her lungs, it started to burn. She started feeling lightheaded. Looking at the floor, she saw ashes spread everywhere, indicating the hunters had accomplished part of their mission. Her emotions grew into a mix of anger and sadness.

Leaning against the walls, she searched for signs of Amy and Lily. She finally reached a door, a sign indicated it lead to the backstage. It was locked.

Before deciding if she should break it open, she heard from the opposite side of the studio:

"Stop! Let me go! I'm not a vampire!"

"Amy!" She thought.

Although the effects of the gas were still slowing her down, she tried to streak as fast as she could to Amy's location. She was near the bar, a male hunter held her by the neck, pinning her against the wall.

"What about this brand, huh? How do you explain?" He angered, pointing at her wrist.

"It's temporary!" Amy moaned. "Let me go."

With a stake in hands, he pointed it directly to her heart.

"Die, demon..."

He didn't get to finish his sentence, a dagger arced though his body. His hand slowly released Amy’s neck, as he fell dead on the floor.

"Amy," Kamilah hugged her tight. "Are you alright?"

Amy nodded.

"I told you it was dangerous."

Kamilah started coughing.

"But Lily... Kamilah, the gas! You need to get out of here."

Amy's phone started to ring inside her purse. It was a text from Adrian, telling her Lily was safe outside.

"It's Adrian, Lily is..." she smiled, when she turned her eyes back to Kamilah, her look changed. "Kamilah! Behind you!"

At this point, Kamilah had inhaled too much gas. Her movements were slow and unsteady. As soon as she turned around, an acute pain burst through her chest. An intense ache started spread through all her body. All she had time to see was a female hunter, smirking.

She started falling on her knees, when she felt Amy's arms around her, catching her fall.

"K-Kamilah..." Amy spoke, realizing how seriously injured her girlfriend was. "Oh my god... I-I..."

Her eyes were widened and scared, tears started to fill them.

"Don't cry, Amy..." Kamilah's hand slowly reached for hers.

"I'm going to get some help. Y-you're going to be okay..."

"No one... lives forever..."

The pain started to fade away. All she was feeling now was numbness and an intense cold.

"Don't say that, Kamilah!" Amy yelled. "Y-you've been through a lot. You didn't live 2063 years to die like this! Not now... when you found me."

Amy held her face, trying to keep her from falling unconscious.

"Remember? You said you were searching for me..."

Kamilah looked into her eyes. She wanted to assure Amy everything was going to be okay. But never in history, a vampire had survived a stake in the heart. Her vision started to get blurry. She was dying.

"Amy... I..." she attempted to say those three words again.

She couldn't. Before she could finish the sentence, her eyes closed and everything became darkness.

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Liam

"Hello, Priya," Liam said, sitting on a comfortable, luxurious armchair.

Priya gasped and slowly turned around to face him.

"H-How did you get in here? W-Where are my bodyguards???"

"Sorry, I was starving."

"All of them?! Really?!"

He stood up, getting face to face with Priya.

"I assume you know why I'm here."

"No idea," Priya pointed a pearl-handled revolver at him.

"Are you going to shoot me?" Liam laughed. "I’d like to see you try."

She fired the revolver once. Twice. He was fast. Faster than any bullet. Faster than most of the vampires she knew. He vanished and in a blink of an eye he reappeared behind her.

"Why did you lie to me, Priya?" He whispered in her ear.

"I-I didn't."

"Gaius wasn't there. That fucking sarcophagus was empty!"

"B-But he was! Then... there's a traitor amongst us. Maybe Adam did it before..."

"That's enough!" Liam placed a dagger against her neck. "You're not getting away this time!"

"Wait," Priya begged. "I'm your only lead, dude. If you kill me you'll never find out where Gaius is."

"And how do you plan to find out, huh?"

"I'll investigate the other members of the Council. They must know better than I do. And when I have information..."

"You'll tell me?" He pressed the blade harder against her skin. "Why should I believe you?"

"You're gonna have to trust me."

Liam pondered for a moment. What other choice did he have? He spend centuries without having a single clue about Gaius.

"Adrian!" A distant cry echoed across the studio. "Please... Help!"

He recognized that voice from somewhere.

"Don't let her die!"

The desperation in that girl's voice pierced through his heart, bringing back painful memories. Memories that he tried to forget. His mind started playing Gaius sarcastic laugh all over again. His voice describing how he had killed her. He released Priya and clenched his fists in rage.

A sharp pain in his stomach made him open his eyes.

"What..." He yelled.

"This is for biting me, asshole."

While he was distracted, Priya grabbed a stake from his waist. She thrust it as hard as she could, making him gasp in pain.

"Your..."

"See you around, Hunter."

She smiled and closed the door, leaving him on the floor squirming in pain.

SPOILER:

She’ll be okay. I promise.

#playchoices #choices stories you play #bloodbound #kamilah sayeed #kamilah x mc #bloodbound fanfiction #choices fanfiction

58 notes · View notes

vowel-in-thug · 7 years

Note

Drabble game - uhh ALL OF THEM but specifically #83, "Stay there. I'm coming to get you." Silverflint.

HEY PAL REMEMBER HOW YOU SENT THIS TO ME FOUR MONTHS AGO AND I’M ONLY DOING IT NOW BECAUSE I’M AN IDIOT

so yeah. everyone who has forgotten by now that they sent me one of these, be prepared to suddenly get a notification like “wtf is this” over the next…..i don’t even fucking know. i don’t know.

i also got an anonymous prompt with just the number and listen, friend, i don’t even know where the original list is so i have no idea what your prompt was but if someone sees the list flying around, let me know.

so many of these prompts were also more aligned to a modern AU but i’m not capable of doing a regular modern AU so here it is, the first 1920s gangster AU no one (or, like, four people, retroactively) asked for

although this is more like Black Sails: Prohibition-Era Gay Chicken AU

#83, “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

Flint lights a cigarette. The metal clink of his lighter flicking shut is the only sound trickling across the Atlantic City Boardwalk. Other than the crush of waves, of course. Everything glows a hazy orange in the steam of the summer air. Fuck, it’s hot, even with the breeze pushing off the sea. It’s barely a breeze, really, the waves twitching only as much as an accomplished sinner in church. They’re moving, sure, but they aren’t exactly calling attention to themselves.

He sticks the cigarette in his mouth and takes off his jacket, throwing it over the railing. He smokes with his lips pursed, rolling up his sleeves, never taking his eyes off the horizon. He’d get a good breeze if he was on a boat, even in this fucking July swelter. He lets loose the top button his waistcoat, then takes off his hat to wipe at his brow with his forearm. The only way to get a good goddamn breeze is at sea.

The boat still isn’t in sight.

Flint takes a long drag, the tobacco rolling around his tongue like a dog with a bone. He wishes he could be on his boat right now, instead of waiting to see if his shipment will arrive or if it’s been pinched by the fucking Coast Guard after leaving Nassau. But the Ranger had been having a good run so far, and the crew knew just how to hide his rum behind a grin and a crate of sugar cane – both sweet enough to give the Guards cavities, if they got boarded.

It means smaller cargo, but it means you don’t have to do a runner at the first whiff of trouble. And it also means Flint couldn’t go with them. His face has been splashed all over the papers too many times. But it also means product, and anyway, Flint has The Walrus to run.

The moon wavers on the water like Flint’s patience. They’re hours late. He’d already sent his men home. The only reason the Ranger would be this late is if there’d been a problem. But still, Flint stays. It’s easier to think of all the ways the world has disappointed him when he’s looking out at the sea.

Suddenly, he hears a crash coming from behind. Crash might be too generous. A soft thud, and a roll of glass over gravel, a metal can scratching against brick, and then a pointed stillness of someone trying not to make anymore noise.

Flint has his gun drawn and raised before he even finishes turning around. He sees a dark alley, nestled nice and cozy between a closed soda parlor and a closed drugstore. The closest lamp is lit two doors down, but between that and the moon he can see a couple trash cans and shadows. But you don’t get to live as long as James Flint had without being able to tell between a shadow and a shadow.

He inhales deeply one more time before pitching his cigarette over the rail, onto the beach. “Stay right there.” He doesn’t bother to whisper it. “I’m coming to you.”

He approaches slowly, finger resting on the trigger, and when he gets to the edge of the alley, a man steps out, hands raised.

“Hi,” he says, and smiles.

It’s a smile only a mother could love, because everyone else is too busy wanting to punch it. His shirtsleeves are also rolled, and he’d gone so far as to take off his suspenders, draping them at his waist. Flint doesn’t know how his trousers aren’t sliding all the way down over his narrow hips. The man’s in desperate need of a haircut, a shave, and another place to be. He doesn’t look like a street urchin, though. His teeth are too white.

“I have a proposition for you,” says the kid, still smiling.

Flint had already given him the once over, but he did it again, slower this time. Maybe life isn’t all full of disappointments. “Do you now?”

The kid frowns, and when he realizes, his cheek redden a little. “That’s – ah. Not what I meant. Mr. Flint.”

It’s a good thing Flint hadn’t put away his gun. “You know who I am?”

“Yes,” says the kid, stepping forward. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Cops are the only ones looking for me, kid.” Flint raises his gun higher.

The kid raises his hands higher. “Well, I think it’s pretty obvious I’m not a cop.”

“How’s that?”

“Because I actually found you.”

“Uh-huh,” says Flint. “And did you mean to proposition me just now, or did you just mean to trip over your own pigtails in the dark?”

“I – slipped.” The kid scowls, like Flint doesn’t have a gun on him. “I had been hoping to speak to you in a more….populated area, but. You see – “

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Silver,” says Silver. “John Silver.”

“Is that so?“ says Flint. He steps closer, forcing Silver to walk backwards into that dark alley again. He shuffles a little awkwardly as he goes, trying to keep from tripping again with his eyes still on Flint’s gun. “Named after that tongue of yours, were you?”

Even as he keeps looking at Flint, at Flint’s gun, at the disappearing light around them, Silver doesn’t look worried. Not even with his back up against a wall. “I don’t think you’re well-acquainted with my tongue just yet to know that.”

All Flint can hope for is that the smirk on his face is at least a predatory one. “You said you know who I am.” He keeps walking closer, even though Silver has nowhere to go.

“Of course I do,” Silver says, eager as a rabbit. “I read about you in the papers. The way you took out those two ships last year was real copacetic. Is it true you actually sunk one of th—”

“If you know who I am,” Flint says, waiting until there’s only about a foot of hot air and his itchy trigger finger between them, “then you wouldn’t of sought me out, kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” Silver says, scowling again. “I served.”

Flint snorts. “For how long, kid, a week? You must have still been cleaning your barracks with your toothbrush when the Krauts finally called it quits.”

“Went from France to Belgium,” and the kid no longer looked young at all. He doesn’t look scared or annoying, either. He just looks pissed. It looks better on him. “And I served long enough.” He kicked the wall behind him, and in the silence of the dark he hears the clunk of wood on brick.

Flint does not look down at Silver’s false leg, still propped up on the wall behind him. He sees the look in Silver’s eyes now, a look most men either try to hide or don’t even bother. Silver is better at hiding it than most. He says, “And how old did you tell them you were?”

A shadow passes over Silver’s face, even darker than before. “Old enough.”

Flint takes a step back, sighing. He’s not about to kill another soldier again. He lowers his gun, but doesn’t holster it. “Alright, Mr. Silver, you got me. I wouldn’t have pegged that you ever pulled a piece in your life, but I believe you. Though I have no need for any soldiers. Why don’t you go to school, like the other GIs?”

Slowly, Silver’s leg lowers to the ground. He looks a little flustered, like he hadn’t been expecting to reveal so much.

“I don’t need school,” Silver says, and just like that, his easy charm is back. “I need dough. I’m here to help you.”

He reaches into his pocket, and before Flint can raise his gun again, Silver is holding out – a flask.

“Genuine, all-American hooch,” Silver says, grinning. “Some of the purest whiskey this end of the Atlantic. Take a sip, and have all your troubles slide –”

“Enough of the snake oil,” Flint says, rolling his eyes. “I’m not putting that bathtub rotgut in my body, thanks.”

“Just try it!” Silver is stepping forward now, flask held out like a gun of his own. “It’ll knock your socks off.”

“I’m not wearing socks.”

“Then it’ll knock….” Silver trails off, eyes trailing over Flint’s vest, his flannel trousers, his Oxfords, like he’s trying to picture what other garment Flint could stand to lose, “….you off your feet.”

“You’re off your fucking rocker if you think I’m gonna drink some hooch handed to me by a pretty boy punk loitering outside the soda jerk. I don’t feel like going blind today.”

“Well, I’m won’t stand to turn you blind,” says Silver, “if you’ll keep calling me pretty.”

“Most men take that to be an insult.”

“Most men aren’t as pretty as me.” Silver unscrews the cap to his flask. “I’ll show you it’s perfectly safe. And if it’s not, at least I’ll have one last good sight to see before it all goes dark.”

Flint wants to tell him that it doesn’t matter if Silver will drink it, because he doesn’t know Silver, and doesn’t know if he places any value on his life. From their interactions so far, he wouldn’t count on it. But before he can, the flask is at Silver’s lips, his head tilting back, and all Flint sees is a tanned neck, stretching here to eternity. It’s a neck that’s surely seen a fair amount of bruising over the years, and Flint’s tempted to add his share. He just has to decide what he’ll use to make them, his hands or his lips.

When Silver stops drinking to look back at Flint, a tiny bead of whiskey trails down his chin.

Flint is a man who takes things too far. It might as well be printed on his business cards. So he’s not surprised with himself when he reaches out, wipes the liquid from Silver’s face with his thumb, before bringing it to his own mouth to taste.

He likes to tease men. It makes him seem unpredictable, and it puts them on edge. He figures, if the toughest guys can’t break without giving him what he wants or turning scared, they’ll do fine up against a regular copper. He never means it anyway. Most of the fellas he runs with would not only take a wooden nickel but let him pay their salaries with them.

None of his guys look at him with the same look Silver gives him now. He hands Flint a smile he can feel in his spine.

“And so?” says Silver, holding out his flask again, giving it a little shake. “Fancy a drink?”

Flint takes the flask. He checks back at the pier, but all he sees is dead surf and no ships. What the hell. He has time to kill. Either he’ll die or time will. He takes a sip of Silver’s whiskey.

Two seconds later, he has Silver flat up against the wall again, gun under his chin.

“You know,” Flint says conversationally, “I think I’ve tasted this particular brand of whiskey before.”

“Have you now?” Silver’s throat bobs under the barrel of his gun. “I assure you, I did make it myself.”

Flint hums, flattening himself against the full of Silver. He keeps the gun on him, but raises the flask up against Silver’s lips, forcing him to take another shot. “This tastes an awful lot like Singleton’s brand of hooch, except I know for a fact Singleton’s been out of business for a month, ever since his factory mysteriously went up in smoke and he got fingered for arson. Coppers maintained it was for the insurance, even though Singleton denied it. Supposedly, his recipe went with the fire. ”

Silver swallows everything Flint gives him, then turns his head to gasp. More whiskey drips down his chin, and Flint sways forward like a man leaning towards making a bad decision. The corners of Silver’s mouth are turned up in a smile, even as he catches his breath. “Sounds like that was a bad day for Mr. Singleton,” Silver says, eyes swerving into Flint like a runaway bus. “So how’s your day going?”

“Differently than I had imagined when I had my coffee this morning,” Flint admits, finally holstering his gun. He finishes the flask himself.

He’d wanted to make a move against Singleton for ages. The man had been able to make his own product, without dealing with third and fourth parties to smuggle it into the states. Singleton had been a crappy businessman, though, and Flint hadn’t dealt with him after a pretty serious falling out over some missing cases. But he’d been his own man, and God, how Flint had envied that. Sure, plenty of men had come crawling to his door trying to be his bootlegger, but The Walrus served only quality hooch, and the stuff that crawls isn’t typically quality.

Silver isn’t crawling. He’s slinking. There’s a measurable difference between the two.

“Does that mean you’re interested?” Silver’s teeth are even whiter up close. He’s about as level as a sinking ship, as up as the devil himself, but Flint’s stuck wondering if the taste of liquor is clinging to the square of his teeth.

But because Flint, unlike Singleton, is a good businessman, he says, “That depends.” And if he happens to slide his thigh between Silver’s legs, that’s between him and Silver’s inseam.

Silver says, “Fifty percent.”

Flint says, “I’m not interested.”

Silver pouts. “Forty.”

“Ten.”

“Twenty,” says Silver, and finds space to press himself even closer, hands curling into Flint’s waistcoat, “and a genuine kiss from a genuine gangster.”

Flint leans forward, waits until he can feel the smell of Silver’s swallowed whiskey touching his lips, and says, “Twenty-five.”

“Aw, Hell,” says Silver. “I’m not that greedy.” He kisses him.

Flint hasn’t kissed another man since the war ended. He may as well have not breathed in all that time. Silver’s hands slide up to hold his face, strong enough to build a life on. Flint pulls him off the wall to clutch at his back. He slides his tongue into Silver’s open mouth, as warm and wet and waiting as the air in Atlantic City. He’d been right, before. He can taste moonshine on Silver’s teeth.

When Flint pulls back, he thinks if the man’s brewing skills won’t make him go blind, than the sight of Silver sucking on his own bottom lip, lingering on the taste, just might. He finds himself wishing he could put Silver’s suspenders back over his shoulders, because he needs something to hold onto. Instead, he steps out of Silver’s grasp altogether. He doesn’t know if it’s Silver’s booze or his tongue that’s making the blood move through Flint’s body the exact way the ocean ten feet away isn’t – roaring and curling under the skin. Flint likes to live dangerously, but usually that means the danger is for other people.

Silver doesn’t look upset that Flint moves away. Maybe because he knows he’ll eventually be back, pressed into the sweat of his neck. He asks, “So what do you think?”

“What do I think?” Flint tosses Silver his flask. Silver catches it mid-air, pocketing it with a smile at its emptiness. Flint can’t survive another direct smile, so he busies himself with pulling another cigarette out of his case. “I think you’re dripping ink, kid.”

“How’s that?”

Flint finds comfort in the clink of his lighter, the rough roll of the wheel under his thumb, the whuff of the wick igniting. But before he could even get his lighter out, Silver is there with a match, striking it against the brick of the soda shop. The smell of sulfur tickles his nose, and he is so focused on watching the flame dance in Silver’s eyes that he almost forgets to inhale. He couldn’t properly tell before, in the dark, but now he knows. Silver’s eyes are blue.

He inhales, then exhales. Silver shakes out the match and stands there, washed in Flint’s smoke. Flint says, “I mean you got trouble written all over you.”

“I could say the same for you, daddy,” Silver says, sliding his suspenders on with a snap. “Or maybe you’re dripping with something else. So does that mean we’ve got a deal?”

If Silver is an undercover cop, he’s the worst one Flint’s ever met. Flint holds the cigarette between his lips again so he can pull out a card and a pencil from his back pocket. He braces the card on Silver’s chest so he can write out an address.

“Be here at 9 AM sharp, tomorrow morning,” he says, handing Silver the card. “And bring more of your product with you.”

“How much should I bring?” Silver holds the card in his hands like a promise – a precious, fragile thing that could easily blow away, if the breeze even deemed to pick itself up.

“Enough for you to make good on your promises, Mr. Silver.” Flint adjusts his hat forward, shading his eyes. He reaches for Silver’s suspenders, reeling him in. “You said you’ll knock me off my feet, after all. Far as I can tell, I’m still standing. I’m hoping you might do something about that.”

#black sails #black sails fanfic #silverflint #hey look it's my suffering #prohibition au #i tried to emulate raymond chandler and it's probably just embarrassing #the man was a genius #anyway here's that #maybe i'll do more of this verse if anyone wants #lurkerdelima #noir au

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everettv · 7 years

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Remember Me

Day 4: Hunters SpUK Week 2017 @hetaliaotpchallenges Antonio sighs and puts out his cigarette by stepping on it, then gets in the car. He glances over at his partner then back out the window. “What do you think? Is it really a case?” He asks, closing his eyes and leaning back. His partner hums noncommittally at him. Antonio opens his eyes and glances over at Gilbert. “Seriously, is it a case? Don’t make me call the Vargas brothers for their opinion, or Francis. Both of them are sick of you doing this.” He mutters. “I am too. We can’t work together if you won’t communicate.” Gilbert sticks his tongue out. “I’m working on it Toni. There’s a lot of research that I have to do to make sure this is actually a case. I’m looking into the past cases and trying to see a pattern. But yes, I think it’s a case.” Antonio nods when he finally concedes. “It sounds like a ghost. There’s a lot of hauntings happening there, we should find out why that is. It’s the same ghost at all of the locations, but they’re scattered throughout the town.” Antonio’s eyebrows crease. “How do you know it’s the same ghost at all of the locations?” Antonio asks in confusion. Gilbert shows him the pictures some people have caught and the articles. “He’s described the same way at all of the locations. And he kills everyone the same way. A well placed blow to the temple then hung up from the rafters. It’s very strange.” He whispers, tilting his head to the side. Antonio nods and reads a few of the articles before sitting his seat up properly. “Certainly seems like a case. Let’s go. If it’s not a case, we’ll just leave, alright?” He asks. Antonio has a bad feeling about the case, but he’s been wrong before and he could be wrong now. Gilbert doesn’t seem apprehensive at all, so he’s sure it will all be fine. He drives through the night, only stopping to get food and fill up for gas. When he gets to the city he parks at a hotel and gets them a room while Gilbert talks to a few locals to find out about the ghost. Antonio smiles tiredly. “I’m gonna get some sleep. You wanna look into the ghost some more? Or you wanna rest as well?” He asks, grabbing his duffel bag from the backseat. Gilbert grabs his as well, following Antonio to the room. “I’m probably gonna get some shut eye, then I’ll do some research. I’m waking you up in a few hours so we can talk to the officers, though.” Gilbert tells him. Antonio nods and flops onto one of the beds. He’s almost instantly asleep. Gilbert rolls his eyes and lays on his own bed, closing his eyes and lulling himself to sleep. Next thing he knows he’s being woken up by Antonio, who is already dressed in a sharp suit. “Wake up. So much for getting me up.” Antonio snickers and goes through his pile of fake IDs. “Who do you want to be this time? I was thinking this time I could be Agent John Smith. And you’ll be… Agent Fox Mulder.” He smirks and tosses the badge to a sleepy Gilbert, hitting him in the head. “Asshole.” He snaps, picking it up and looking at his badge. “Yeah, yeah. Let me shower first, Smith.” He says the name with as much sarcasm as he can muster then climbs out of bed and takes a fast shower. He runs his fingers through his hair then pulls it into a short ponytail. “We’re both getting kinda shaggy. Is it time for haircuts? They’re not going to think we’re agents if we’re this shaggy.” He dresses and tucks his badge in his jacket pocket. Antonio shrugs. “I kinda like it.” He pushes his hair behind his ears. “That’s why I’ve sat out of a few haircuts. I like having long hair, it’s just the middle stage that bothers me. I want to have it down to here.” He touches his mid back. Gilbert shrugs and chuckles softly, making sure they have everything. Antonio drives them down to the police station, getting out. Gilbert tells him to go to the last crime scene while he talks to the police. Antonio sighs softly and drives to the address that was given to him. He steps out of the car and looks at a large, victorian style house. The large gate around it would have intimidated many people, but not Antonio. He actually appreciates the style, if he ever decides to have a normal life, he wants a victorian styled house. Antonio pulls out a gun loaded with salt and an EMF detector before heading into the house. He walks through the house until his detector starts to squeal at him. His stomach fills with dread and he can’t place why. He looks up, stepping toward the little statue in the corner. He picks it up and looks at it, wondering why it looks so familiar to him. He doesn’t hear the absolute shrieking of the EMF nor the voice suddenly behind him. Next thing he knows he’s waking up in an unfamiliar room. Antonio rubs the back of his head and sighs softly, getting up. He frowns, looking down at the old fashioned clothes he’s wearing. He doesn’t remember changing, so he assumes that whatever ambushed him changed him. He doesn’t see the statue anywhere. Antonio slowly walks around the room, trying to find his gun. He blinks again, wondering why his head is so fuzzy. The door opens and a man walks in carrying the statue from before. Antonio’s breath is caught in his throat when he sees the handsome man. Arthur looks up at Antonio and tilts his head to the side. “I didn’t think you’d be awake yet. I’m sorry, love, we always meet like this. I just miss you.” He whispers. Antonio’s eyebrows come together. “Do I know you?” He asks in confusion, stepping forward. “You’re the ghost. You’re the ghost of the manor. What… What are you talking about. Always meeting like this? You miss me?” Antonio doesn’t have any weapons, so his best bet is to placate the ghost until Gilbert can come and save him. Arthur looks into Antonio’s eyes then down at his statue, holding it protectively. Antonio’s eyes flick to the statue then back to Arthur. “Are you tied to the statue?” He asks softly. Arthur looks at him then nods, holding it against his chest. “You should know me. But you don’t remember. Come with me.” Arthur walks down the hallway, stopping and looking back at Antonio. “I won’t hurt you. I didn’t hurt you before, you passed out and I moved you.” Arthur nods at him. “Come on, I need to show you who you really are.” He gently holds his elbow and leads Antonio into a large room. There’s portraits on the walls and albums of photographs. A stack of yellowing newspapers sits on the table in the middle of the room, and a few fresh ones are sitting beside it. “What is this?” Antonio asks, eyes flicking over an old portrait. He recognizes himself in the portrait and gasps softly. Arthur looks up at it and turns to him. “That’s you. It’s your first incarnation.” Arthur smiles a bit. “I got it painted for you when we first fell in love. It was in 1839. You were working in one of the factories and you were so dirty. But even so, I fell in love with you the moment I laid eyes on you. Your eyes, that’s what got me. Then it was your smile. You had dirt coating your entire body. I invited you to take a bath at my house and you agreed to come with me. You died of tuberculosis. I was heartbroken.” Arthur starts. Antonio glances at Arthur then back at the painting. “I look like a bum.” Antonio responds, stepping closer. His hair is messy around his face, his face is covered in muck. “Was I in England?” He asks, turning to Arthur. He has no reason not to believe Arthur. The painting looks just like him. He turns to the next one. “Is this another reincarnation of me?” He asks softly, eyes roving over the gilded frame. His eyes flick over the acrylic. Arthur laughs softly. “You were a bum.” He whispers. He follows him over to the next one. “This one was after I died and became a ghost. I was run over by a carriage. I still have the headline. I died a few years after you.” He glances at Antonio then back at the painting. “This was 1860. You just turned 19 when you ran into me. You were an author and had some kind of obsession with my life, I guess. You moved into my house even though for 14 years no one would even look at it, for fear of getting haunted. You moved into my house in hopes of writing a biography of me. Your art was subpar, but you drew me. It was cute. Here, hold this.” He hands his statue to Antonio. The Spaniard gasps, taking it gently. He looks at the statue. Antonio could destroy it, but he feels himself wanting to hear more. “Here it is.” He pulls out a book and shows it to Antonio. “‘The Life of Arthur Kirkland’ by Anthony Del Castillo. Look, this is how you drew me.” He opens the book and lets Antonio look at the pictures, taking back the statue while he does it. “I let you talk to me. You had the best biography out there. But it didn’t do well. You died a poor, starved author. You couldn’t afford the house, let alone a house like mine.” He whispers, looking at him with saddened eyes. “I was collecting newspapers trying to find you again, but you didn’t resurface a third time for a while. I finally found news of you in America, so I grabbed my statue and shipped myself to the town you lived in. You were a guitarist that was becoming popular but you refused to move towns. It was 1920. I have pictures of you after that. I got many portraits of you made when I was alive, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” “Anyway… Back in 1920 I came to America finally. You were under a different name, but your picture was unmistakably you. You were Augustus Martinez that year.” Arthur moves to the stacks of newspapers. “Guitarist extraordinaire. You were amazing, though you weren’t happy to see me. You didn’t believe me in that incarnation. The next time was the 1970s. You were a girl.” Arthur hides his smile behind his hand. “You were born in England again. It was harder to figure it out that time, but there’s no way I couldn’t recognize your eyes and smile. It’s why I feel in love in the first place.” He nods at Antonio and smiles. “Isabel Ruby Garcia. You were an exotic dancer. You lived in this tiny apartment. You once again wanted nothing to do with a ghost, but at least you listened that time. Then you promptly threatened me with hunters until I left. I don’t have records of that one other than a few ticket stubs from where you worked.” Antonio stares at him, listening intently. He nods a bit and looks at the newer newspapers. “Did you know I was a hunter? Did you do all these things to bring me here?” He asks irritably, suddenly remembering where he is and what he’s talking to. Arthur looks at him, slightly stunned. “No, I didn’t know you were a hunter until you stood in my room with EMF. That wasn’t very polite, by the way, roughhousing with my statue. I need it to be safe and you tried to kill me.” Arthur pouts slightly. “I grabbed these because I realized someone was pulling shit in the town I live in. I wanted to stop them before you assholes showed up. But then you were there and I couldn’t even control myself, I was trying to talk to you. You passed out, I wasn’t sure why. I put you in more comfortable clothes, well I thought they would be, then waited for you to wake up. And then you did. What is your name this time?” He asks. “Antonio Carriedo-Fernandez.” He responds. “I’m a hunter. I came here to get a ghost. How do I know you are telling the truth about not killing everyone? This is the place the last death happened in. How should I know that you aren’t killing people to get my attention?” He growls softly, backing up. Arthur sighs softly and hands over his statue. “I’m not killing anybody. There’s an angry human doing it, it’s not me. It’s not a ghost. It’s a human. People are blaming me because they know I’m a ghost. It’s not me.” He whispers, getting close to Antonio. Antonio clutches the statue tightly and looks over the stuff around him. He looks back at Arthur. “O...Okay… I believe you.” Arthur glares slightly. “Good. Now…” His gaze softens. “Are you going to stay here with me? I can’t… I can’t let you go and get killed now…” He whispers. “Now I know where you are…” He looks up at the ceiling when he hears noise upstairs. Antonio sets the statue down and shakes his head. “I have to protect the world. I can’t stay here with you.” Antonio mumbles, looking away. “You’ll just have to find me again in the next life. And this time, maybe I’ll be doing something where I can lose my time to a ghost. But this life… It’s not good for that. Maybe I’ll be an author again…” He heads up the stairs. Arthur watches him go and sighs softly. Antonio is almost out the door when he feels intense pain in his temple and hears the thud as he hits the floor before everything goes black.

#spuk #spukotpweek2k17 #hetalia #aph spuk #fanfic #hetalia fanfiction #also on ao3

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fashiontrendin-blog · 6 years

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Corsets, Khakis and Platforms: 5 Women Face the Trends That Scare Them

http://fashion-trendin.com/corsets-khakis-and-platforms-5-women-face-the-trends-that-scare-them/

Corsets, Khakis and Platforms: 5 Women Face the Trends That Scare Them

Though I do not consider myself a particularly adventurous person, I have no qualms about experimenting with a previously unexplored trend or style of clothing. Similarly to how people proclaim, “It’s just a haircut! It will grow back!” I like to think, “It’s just clothing! You can take it off!” This philosophy has resulted in many a dressing room disaster, but for every 10 failures, there is generally at least one success, and therein lies my firm belief that you should never say never when it comes to trying something on, even just for kicks.

In the interest of spreading the gospel, I posed the following question to my colleagues: What’s a trend or article of clothing you’d never wear? Having collected their answers, I proceeded to convince them to let me make a few suggestions about how to style said trend or article of clothing and give it a go. Best case scenario they would love it, worst case scenario they would hate it; whatever the outcome, I figured we would still have fun, and in that sense there’s really no worst case after all. Keep scrolling to see them face their style fears and read how it felt.

Kate

Kate told me she would never wear a wool bra. I called in one that looked more like a crop top than lingerie and suggested layering it over a turtleneck and high-waist pants so it wouldn’t feel like an intimidating style departure so much as a seamlessly-incorporated accessory.

Why wouldn’t you wear this trend? It didn’t occur to me that I could layer it over something else, so I was more intimidated by the idea of wearing something that showed my midriff, not so much because of my body (the older I get, the more I love my body), but because I just haven’t done that before? Except for maybe in the heyday of low-slung jeans, with a billowy cropped top. For some reason a fitted cropped top felt like it was too much of a “look” for me to feel comfortable in. However, if I’d known it would be layered over something I still would have been intimidated because my only real previous experience with layering was wearing sweater-vests over button-downs in middle school, and I wasn’t thrilled with that.

How did it feel to wear it? Did you like it? (Be honest.) I did! Everything felt great and I loved the pairing with the pants and turtleneck. I think the combination of me not knowing what to do with my body when I’m being photographed and the wider straps of the top gave me a broad-shouldered look in some of the pictures that I did not love, but overall I felt very comfortable both physically and in how I looked.

Would you wear it this way again? For sure. Can I have that top?

Erica

Erica told me she would never wear khakis. I called in khaki-colored Kamm pants with the intention of combatting khakis’ dorky middle school associations with a modern, slightly funky, thoroughly grown-up silhouette.

Why wouldn’t you wear this trend? I had to wear a school uniform from Kindergarten allll the way through 12th grade. In high school, we no longer had the plaid skirts from junior high. Rather, we had shorts and pants in two color options: navy and KHAKI. These then had to be paired with polo shirts in either navy, white or red. Now, whenever I see khakis, all I can think about is that not-so-flattering uniform, the cringe-y yearbook photos… and how my friends and I would try to trick people shopping in Target into thinking we worked there if we all happened to pair our khakis with red polos that day.

How did it feel to wear it? Did you like it? (Be honest.) I was pleasantly surprised by how much I ended up liking the look! I definitely felt “off” when I looked in the mirror because I haven’t seen myself in that shade for a decade, but the shape and cut of the pants were so flattering — the complete opposite of the baggy, draw-string contraptions I had to wear in high school — that they won me over. Consider me a convert.

Would you wear it this way again? I would! I believe that I personally can never have too many pairs of pants, especially high-waist ones, so what the heck, let’s throw a voluminous khaki pair into the rotation.

Jasmin

Jasmin told me she would never wear “dad” sneakers. I suggested styling them with feminine pieces like a midi-length slip dress, sparkly gold socks and a tailored blazer to provide contrast and circumvent the possibility of looking like Seinfeld (unless that’s your thing, in which case I fully support).

Why wouldn’t you wear this trend? As a naturally small person, I could never get on board with the whole Dad sneaker thing because they always look and felt too clompy to me and thought they would look very out of balance on my frame.

How did it feel to wear it? Did you like it? (Be honest.) I actually loved my outfit, definitely something I’d wear, but though I think the sneakers look really cool in the pictures it still doesn’t feel like me. I was, however, incredibly comfortable.

Would you wear it this way again? The outfit and the sneakers individually, yes, but not together. I’d likely wear the outfit with a pair of calf-length boots and the sneakers with leggings but together it didn’t gel for me as something I’d wake up really wanting to wear.

Patty

Patty told me she would never wear platform shoes. I called in platform *loafers* and suggested wearing them with striped socks so the aesthetic leaned more in the direction of “cool art teacher” instead of Lady Gaga circa 2009.

Why wouldn’t you wear this trend? Other than a short but enthusiastic stint with a pair of cable-knit platform clogs in high school, I’ve always dismissed platform shoes as too theatrical for my needs. An unnecessary hindrance. I assumed the all-around elevation would slow me down, trip me up, and/or make me feel like I was walking around in Moon Shoes (remember those?!).

How did it feel to wear it? Did you like it? (Be honest.) I felt like myself, and that was surprising. I love that they are a lace-up loafer, which made me feel strapped in and secure. And at just an inch or two the platform was less the Spice Girls tribute I imagined/feared and more of a gentle, cushioned lift.

Would you wear it this way again? Would totally wear again. Would also like Harling to pick out my socks every day.

Haley

Haley told me she would never wear a corset. I suggested styling it with her usual uniform of Levi’s vintage jeans plus an oversized white shirt dress so the look wouldn’t feel too body-con.

Why wouldn’t you wear this trend? I tend to avoid anything that hugs my waist or boobs — not out of self-consciousness or modesty, it’s just not my personal style, like how five-inch heels and maxi skirts aren’t my style. I even prefer cotton T-shirts a size or two up. Suffice it to say, I’ve stayed far away from corsets.

How did it feel to wear it? Did you like it? (Be honest.) It was…interesting. And I don’t mean that in the mom way when she’s pretending to like your new boyfriend. I mean it really was interesting to have something tight around my waist like that when the rest of my outfit was baggy. However, tbh, I wasn’t really feeling myself in this look.

Would you wear it this way again? I’d probably never wear it. Maybe it was my jeans and shoes? In which case it’s my fault. Anyway, SORRY HARLS. And love you, Tibi!

Your turn: What’s a trend or article of clothing [you think] you’d never wear?

Photos by Edith Young.

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gotatext · 5 years

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claws my way out of the dirt like the goblin i am ..... hello thots, its nora, once again bringing you a revamped version of a muse i played yonks ago n some of u may have even written against... here is her pinterest.....

this is margaret greta, she’s a whole can of trauma spaghetti plastered over with a toothy grin and a lot of dad jokes. the only reason she’s in gifford really is bcos shes been put there as part of a witness protection program cos lots of police r monitoring livingstone so its deemed relatively safe.... haha... anyway she changes major all the time. she started off doing fine art but since then she’s done modules in architecture, film, bio-chemistry and is now dabbling in medicine.

CIS-FEMALE — ever hear people say GRETA O’DRISCOLL looks a lot like DIANA SILVERS? I think SHE is about 21, so it doesn’t really work. The MEDICINE major is a SOPHOMORE that is from DEADWOOD, SOUTH DAKOTA. They can be +CHARMING, but they can also be -EVASIVE. I think GEE might be SHEEP. They are living in YATES. ( nora. 23. gmt. she/her )

this bitch is the most restless creature u ever seen. before she came to livingstone, she’d lived in 8 different cities in 3 years.

goes through phases of being intensely feminist and tweeting “men are trash i don’t need them” before flipping into being lonely and needy n wanting male attention again. tends to gravitate towards men who are just pieces of shit tbh like her friends are always like hun.... pick a nice boy..... but no.... she’ll go for the boxer with several arrest records for gbh or the small-town drug dealer just trying to hook her onto pills for a little extra cash, or the reformed sinner who thinks he’s being protective by reading all her texts and always knowing where she is..... n she always finds a way to spin it so that they Just Care About Her and aren’t a p.o.s

left school at 18 n didn’t go to uni, moved in w her boyfriend of the time instead, but soon got bored, n then went backpacking around the states making money in the casinos by being a shot girl (yeehaw) and trying to make it as a mysterious 1920s widow with a smoky voice, a dark secret n a heart of gold, looking for love in the big city. all she found was producers and acting agents who’d promise her stardom n actually just fuck her in a motel n then ignore her calls.

TW domestic violence, TW gun, her watershed moment came when she met luke in sioux falls while she was playing bass for a country n blues band. he was a few years older and had a car, and they kind of went from seeing each other to being that super intense couple who are just necking all the time.

one of their fights got really heated and greta threatened him with the gun he kept in the glove box of his vauxhall corsa, but the safety was off and she accidentally shot him. she pleaded self defence in the trial n cos of the amount of times she’d been hospitalised for various concussions n things like ‘fallling down the stairs’ the police were like yea... pretty watertight evidence that he was a bastard who [chicago voice] had it coming..... also this happened in 2017, he was mixed race and greta is white so naturally the police totally took her side. she’s now under witness protection, rehoused in livingstone as a sports-scholarship student, due to the amount of police involvement in the area, it would mean should one of luke’s family members try to track her down, she’d be relatively safe

pretty easy to get along with (provided you don’t anger, provoke or question her too much) because she WANTS your character to be enthralled by her and will do whatever it takes to win them over. she wants everyone to love her

is That Girl who always knows where the parties are, and is always there, on the sofa, talking about institutionalised racism and trying to coerce you into a game of beer pong that she’ll definitely win. doesn’t really have one solid group of friends, just kind of on good terms with everyone and social butterflies about

has changed her major so many times. decision? who is she. currently studying medicine, but doesn’t rlly enjoy it. she’s very unmotivated and lazy and probably wouldn’t ahve bothered going to uni if she hadn’t been placed in one by a witness protection program. will probably change on to history or gender studies soon n just make up the extra credits by volunteering

plays bass guitar, has a teal green fender and it is her BABY. it’s covered in stickers about saving the planet and ending fracking and going vegan. she’s in an all-female punk band w agnes (n mayb jade i think) n they play gigs every now n then in grotty club basements full of druggy sweaty college kids

PERSONALITY: easy-going, sociable, observant, blunt, amiable, nihilistic, self-serving, laid back, independent, unmotivated, charming, lazy, impulsive, alluring. ESTP and a leo

LIKES: art, music, john wayne movies, black mirror, philosophy, cowboy chic culture, DC comics, arcade games, candyfloss, deep red lipstick, marijuana, dogs, karaoke, Kate Moss, late-night strolls, zip-lining, chemistry, suspenders, cigarettes, herbal tea, gallows humour, cold coffee, long showers, brown eyes, tchaikovsky, dr. seuss, boiler house DJ sets, magnolias, decorative lamps, worn-out furniture, twangy electric guitars.

DISLIKES: bananas, coffee, Woody Allen, mental mathematics, children, Trump, institutionalised misogyny, the imaginary future, french literature, Wes Anderson films, spoken word poetry, the general mentality of cheerleading squads (despite being on one)

aesthetics:

wanted plots: since greta literally can’t differentiate between romantic and platonic love, she’s got off with so many of her mates, so i want awkward friendships where they nearly dated, or exes that have now just turned into weird friendships, and girls from the cheer team who she’s like, weirdly intimate with like the shower together but its not a Thing cos the other girls straight, and I want like, fellow medicine students who are like?? how is this bitch still passing?? i swear she goes out every night?? she works part time at a fast food restaurant, i want a mate that just goes and sits in there talking to her until her manager gets angry. ppl she did a few modules with before changing course and somehow sort of remaining in touch with, like she did a few art modules, a bit of film, n some architecture before switching to medicine, though she’ll probs switch course again soon. ppl who she runs track with. someone she’s trying to make a zine with. here’s a list of plots on her old blog if u want any of them w her.

would love plots of any type, throw them all at me please, i cnt wait to interact w all of u. like this if u want me to message you about connections / plots! xo

full biography if u can be bothered

trigger warnings: drugs, domestic abuse, gun.

#livingintro #this is such a long boi....... waht the fuck.... u dont need to read the bio the summary notes are long enough fuking hell

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