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acourtofswiftiesandshadowdaddies · 2 months

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Teenage Love Triangle

charlie bushnell x fem!reader

summary: you and charlie star in the taylor swift trilogy short film along with sabrina carpenter. (cardigan, august, betty)

warnings: smau, fluff

a/n STOP IVE BEEN WANTING TO WRITE THIS FOR AGES BUT SCHOOL IS JS SO UGH um so reader is an orphan her parental figures are taylor and travis (she’s not adopted by them it’s js they’re like that to her)

liked by sabrinacarpenter, ynln and others taylorswift can’t wait to add this to my short films directed by me collection (it’s really not that big) view comments

user34 OMG WHOS JAMES??? ➔taylorfanpage BIGGER QUESTION: WHOS AUGUSTINE??? ➔ user09 EVEN BIGGER QUESTION: WHOS BETTY????? gracieabrams been waiting for this 🤭 ➔ ynln same 🤭 ➔ hearts4yn they know something walkerscobell AHHH FOLKLORES MY FAVOURITE ➔ walkersno1fan WALKER’S A SWIFTIE?? ➔ leahsavajeffries only bcos of me

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user67 CHARLIE AND YN I REPEAT CHARLIE AND YN. hearts4yn IM ABSOLUTELY GEEKING OVER YN AND CHARLIE ynandsabrinarmyqueens “james and betty this” or “james and betty that” honestly screw james, betty and augustine should get to together ➔ sabrinafan REALL hearts4yn PLS MARRY ME YN 💍 ynloml i need a romcom with charlie and yn ASAP simpforsabrina i’ve watched this 20 times in the day it’s been released js to see yn 😭

liked by iamcharliebushnell, leahsavajeffries and others ynln folklore: teenage love triangle has to be one of the best sets i’ve been on (not js cos taylor was the director), i absolutely loved working with bri and charlie. and director taylor is an absolute dream. (wish she was the director for every movie i act in) view comments

taylorswift you, charlie and sabrina were perfect for this role absolutely loved this and working with you guys ➔ ynln LOVE YOUUU leahsavajeffries someone tell me if i can inject this film into me ➔ ynln 🤭 ➔ walkerscobell it’s giving druggie aryansimhadri now i have to do the holy trinity for karaoke night 😔 (i’ve been looking for an excuse for this since forever) ➔ ynln LMAO PLS DO dior.n.goodjohn google can i inhale a short film? ➔ ynln NUMBER ONE FAN RIGHT HERE sabrinacarpenter you and charlie were made for each other this comment was deleted sabrinacarpenter IT WAS SO FUN TO FILM WITH YOU ➔ ynln YOU WERE THE STAR FRFR ➔ sabrinacarpenter 🙈 hearts4yn context for picture 1?? ➔ gracieabrams yn js found out she had to make out with charlie on screen ➔ iamcharliebushnell wow i see how it is ➔ ynln it’s not what it looks like i swear walkerscobell context for last pic??? ➔ ynln taylor was literally telling you not to run around with the cameras

singing trio gracie, bro

gracie sabrina ur not slick bri I DELETED IT yn deleted what?? bri the important thing is to not panic yn did u js quote grover from pjo bri i’ve been watching it so i can prepare for when ur silena gracie 🙄 sabrina commented how u and charlie were made for each other yn SABRINA ANNLYNN CARPENTER YOU DID WHAT bri gracie i was literally getting to it yn yk what it’s fine i mean we should probably go public, taylor knows and she approves gracie exactly you have nothing to worry about yn i have travis to worry abt �� bri im sure charlie could fight him

demigod fakers char 💕, diorolor, cutie leah, walkie-talkie, rolling in the deep

diorolor dude WHY IS THE INTERNET SO CLUELESS walkie-talkie HELP THATS SO RANDOM cutie leah NO COS FR LIKE WDYM THAT YOU THINK YN AND CHARLIE ARE SUCH A GOOD ON SCREEN COUPLE rolling in the deep theyre a good offscreen couple too diorolor HARD LAUNCH HIM cutie leah OR SOFT LAUNCH WE DONT RLLY CARE diorolor JS LAUNCH HIM yn i didn’t know u guys felt so strongly abt this topic😔 walkie-talkie LAUNCH HIM rolling in the deep LAUNCH HIM diorolor LAUNCH HIM cutie leah listen to the ppl yn char 💕 why are there so many notifications yn dw babe

liked by sabrinacarpenter, dior.n.goodjohn ynln the gc forced me to soft launch him view comments

sabrinacarpenter i’d like to praise leah and dior 🙏 gracieabrams FINALLY leahsavajeffries NO WAY LET YOU TIE A RIBBON AROUND HIS MUSCLES walkie-talkie i think i know who it is ➔ ynln YOU LITERALLY TOLD ME TO LAUNCH HIM 😭 killatrav who’s this ➔ ynln i can explain…

liked by taylorswift, gracieabrams and others ynln they hung out without me but watched little women??? comments are closed

liked by iamcharliebushnell, walkerscobell and others ynln meant to post that on my private 😅 whoops here’s my bf guys view comments

iamcharliebushnell i love you ➔ ynln i love you too baby walkerscobell LOLLL ➔ ynln THE SOFT LAUNCHING DID NOT LAST sabrinacarpenter ur too goofy 😭 ➔ ynln stop 😭 dior.n.goodjohn HELPP ➔ ynln STOP BULLYING ME IN MY OWN COMMENT SECTION gracieabrams the panic in ur eyes when u realised that you posted on the wrong account 😭 ➔ leahsavajeffries 😭 ➔ dior.n.goodjohn 😭 ➔ sabrinacarpenter 😭

liked by ynln, leahsavajeffries and others iamcharliebushnell love you ynn tagged: ynln comments are closed

liked by walkerscobell, leahsavajeffries and others ynln lil photo dump for the end of the year, see you guys next year 😜 comments are closed

a/n WALKER AND LEAH GOT BANNED??? also i got sleepy near the end that’s why there’s not many comments

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catierambles · 7 months

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Feral Instincts Ch.17

Pairing: The Rogue’s Gallery (Geralt, Syverson, Mike, August Walker, Walter Marshall) x Stephanie Daniels (OFC)

WC 1422

Warnings: mentions of injury and abuse, brief mentions of blood

Stephanie was very still as Walter wrapped her wrists, the other wolf letting her know that silver wounds meant that they had to heal naturally and she would be scarred. Her flesh looked like it had been melted away, but it wasn’t bleeding, the wounds cauterized, edges charred.

“How’d you know something was wrong?” She asked.

“Mike.” Sy said from the doorway. “He called, panickin’, sayin’ somethin’ was wrong, somethin’ was wrong, he needed to speak to you. We told him you weren’t here, and he said we had to find you and we had to find you yesterday. We went out, Geralt tracked your scent, but when he picked up Lewis’ too, is when we knew shit wasn’t right, and that we needed to find you.”

“I need to call him, let him know I’m okay.” She said but stopped with a low sound of pain as she tried to get up from her seat on the toilet lid, sitting back down on it.

“What you need is rest.” Walter said, “Sy can call Mike, let him know you’re alright and safe.”

“He’s going to want to hear my voice.” Geralt came into view and they stared at each other for a moment before he gave a small shake of his head.

“Lost him at an access road. Must have had a car waiting.” He said and Sy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How’s your face?”

“Sy?” Stephanie asked and he turned his head slightly, letting her see the gash across his cheek, his beard trimmed away from it so it was easier to tend to.

“Caught me with a silver blade, but it ain’t as bad as it looks. I’ll have one helluva scar, but the beard will hide it.” He said.

“Geralt.” She said and he looked at her. “Come here.” Walter moved away and they moved around each other, Geralt kneeling in front of her.

“Stephanie, I…” She pulled him into her arms, wrapping them around his shoulders. “I won’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you. I love you.”

“I know.” She said, pressing her forehead against his with her eyes closed. “I love you too. I love…all of you, so much. Sy, and Mike, and Walter, and August, and you, Geralt. My heart is so full with all of you. Full to bursting. But Jordan always told me he loved me and then he would hurt me, kept saying that he was hurting me because he loved me. I just…” His arms tightened around her, burying his face in her neck. "I'm tired, I hurt, and I just want to sleep." He stood, adjusting his hold so he could hook his arms under her knees, carrying her out of the bathroom. She felt Sy's and Walter's gentle touches as they went past, August stopping them in the hall only so he could press his lips to her forehead before Geralt carried her to his room, laying her down gently onto his bed and climbing on behind her, holding her in his arms.

"Yeah, Mikey, she's right here." Sy said, coming into the room, his phone to his ear and she held her hand out for it.

"Hey." She said, pinning the phone between her ear and the pillow.

"Sweetcheeks!" He exclaimed, "Are you alright? Tell me you're alright!"

"Better now, Mike." She said and heard him give a heavy sigh. "Thank you."

"For what?" He asked.

"If you hadn't listened to your gut and called Sy, I…I probably wouldn't be here right now. You saved me, Michael." She said, "Just as much as the others did."

"Steph, I…"

"I love you, my wonderful Beta."

"I love you too, my beautiful Alpha." He said and tears stung at her eyes even as her lips pulled into a smile.

"I need to get some rest now. I'll call you later."

"Sleep well." They said their goodbyes, Sy taking the phone from her, but leaning over her to brush the tears from her cheeks, bending to press a gentle kiss to her lips before leaving the bedroom. Geralt tucked himself into the back of her neck, his arm tightening around her waist and she closed her eyes, exhaustion finally pulling her under.

Her sleep was, thankfully, dreamless and she didn’t know how long she was under before she woke up again, but the sun was shining brightly through the cracks of Geralt’s blackout curtains. There was a heavy sigh behind her and she turned over carefully, her muscles still screaming at her. A wide smile pulled slowly at her lips as she came face to fur with Geralt’s massive white wolf. He was still asleep and must have shifted sometimes during the night, which was just a testament to how dead to the world she had been if that didn’t wake her.

Throwing her arm over him, she buried her face in his ruff and breathed in deep, the sensation of fur sliding over her mind making her close her eyes as her own wolf pushed to the surface but stayed just below. Muted barks made his lips puff out and she fought to not laugh, knowing it would wake him up. She knew that it was Geralt, knew that his wolf was a deadly apex predator that could bring down a moose with minimal effort, but gosh, he sure was adorable.

Giant wolf capable of killing a man.

But also puppy.

There was the sound of nails on the wood floor and she peeked over her shoulder, looking into Sy’s glacial blue eyes. Twisting a little, she ran her hand over his head and one ear, keeping clear of the cut on his cheek as she could still smell blood. He huffed, moving his head into her hand and closing his eyes before pressing forward and giving her cheek a lick. Lupine submission act, lick at the mouth or face of the one in charge.

Alphas didn’t exist with true wolves out in the wild, even the author of the theory eventually said it was bullshit. Packs were family units, the “alphas” were just the parents of the others. But the wolves they were, it was auras and pheromones, taking the concept of “presence” and cranking it to eleven. She could feel the others in her head, know who it was before she saw them based on how they felt. Geralt felt like winter, but not cold and biting, more like the feeling you got looking at a gentle snowfall, the peace of it. Sy was the desert horizon, breathtaking and vast, with eyes as blue as the sky you could drown in. Walter was a blanket just out of the dryer, your favorite tea in your favorite mug, comforting and warm. August was the night, a pitch darkness that you could lose yourself in, but it carried an undercurrent of danger. There were things in that darkness, things you should never forget existed. Mike didn’t have a feeling like the others, probably because he wasn’t an Alpha, but she would still know him anywhere.

Sy’s nose pressing into her cheek snapped her out of her thoughts and she snorted, turning onto her side to face him, running her hand over his fur gently. His muscles coiled and she held up a hand.

“Don’t--” He hopped up onto the bed, the frame creaking from the added weight, and laid down, pressing against her. With Geralt at her back and Sy at her front, she was effectively trapped and all she could do was lay there, running her hand down his back. There was a crawling feeling down her spine along with the sound of shifting muscle and bone and Geralt wrapped an arm around her waist, pressing flush against her.

“How’re you feeling?” He asked.

“Still sore and my wrists hurt.” They throbbed, actually, a constant ache that reminded her of a burn, but then again it was probably exactly like a burn, given the state of the injuries themselves. More shifting of muscle and bone, only this time at her front and Sy looked at her softly, brushing her hair away from her face.

“You shift yet?” He asked but she shook her head. “Have you at all since your first?” Another shake.

“Haven’t thought about it.” She said, “I spent my entire life, save for the past couple months, having one form. I kinda forget sometimes I have another now.”

“You should.” Geralt said, pressing his lips to her shoulder.

“Maybe a bit later.” Stephanie said, “I’m still tired.”

#henry cavill #captain syverson #walter marshall #august walker #geralt of rivia #hellraiser mike #feral instincts

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littlefreya · 2 years

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Behind Blue Eyes

Summary: Beaten and broken, August Walker walks the streets of an unnamed city while he is taken by sudden longing.

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (August's POV)

Words: 2k

Warnings: +18, angst, bad language, mentions of sex, mentions of alcohol, mentions of a breakup, longing, love, heartache. August being poetic AF and August being a prick and stealing candy.

A/N: This story was in my WIP drive for 2 years now and I finally got inspired to finish it. Beta'd by the amazing @agniavateira. I hope you'll enjoy it, I admit it's different from my usual stuff.

Behind Blue Eyes

Ghostly smoke carried onto the autumn breeze. It permeated my nostrils, making my throat itch and my tear ducts sting. The entire street smelled like burning elm leaves and some sort of tarty odour that resembled charred pumpkins. Might have been some ritualistic witchcraft.

This time of the year made all sorts of freaks swarm the streets.

I should know, I was one of them. With blood seeping out my nostrils and caking my moustache, I looked like something that crawled out of hell myself.

Stumbling to the hotel, my feet nearly failed me. Whatever I was tonight, it wasn’t a man but a shadow at best, no more than the swarming pack of ghouls and demons that rushed toward me. Their white and green faces leered with taunt, eyes glowering hollow and fangs of red plastic greeted me with an insult.

Fucking kids.

Unbalanced, I swayed from one side to the other. My long arm casually lunged forward, my hand diving straight into the pumpkin-shaped bucket a little boy was holding. Not batting a single eyelash, I grabbed a handful of candies.

“Hey, mister! That’s mine!” The kid whined with protest, lifting his mask to look at me with a distressed pout.

Unfazed by his stupid face, I snorted and stored the pillaged Halloween snacks down the pocket of my trench coat, offering him a scolding frown instead. “You damn kids should be in fucking bed, it’s almost 2 am.”

Was it actually? I lost track of time after my sixth glass of bourbon.

“Fuck off, boomer!” They shouted at me as I walked away. The Cheshire grin smeared on my face hurt my cheeks; I haven’t been this amused since I hate-fucked Hunt’s daughter against the window at HQ. But my smile shortly waned as every bone in my body kindly reminded me of the beating I took a few hours earlier.

‘Screw this night.’ I balled my fist around the sweets in my pocket and spat a mouthful of blood on the curb. This assignment didn’t go as smooth as planned; someone informed the target and he was well aware and prepared for my arrival. As he mauled me down and pulled out a box-cutter I was sure this was going to be the one where I kicked the bucket.

A brush with death on the night of Halloween, how poetic.

'More like pathetic.' In that glacial moment when the blade kissed my throat, the only thing that lingered on my mind was her.

How the phantom of her lips kissed below my sideburn, her scent so vivid yet drifting away. I couldn’t grasp it, couldn’t keep the sensation that was her entity. As the remnants of her reverie completely faded, came the pure rage. That asshole didn’t stand a chance once I gained the upper hand and started beating him to a bleeding pulp.

I needed a drink after that—at least four to dull the pain and erase those ridiculous thoughts.

Flares of striking pink and orange blinded my eyes as I finally made it to the hotel’s lobby. The honeyed spirit that laved my veins failed to take the edge off; rather than dimming my senses, it enhanced every physical and mental pain while I oscillated into a whirlpool of hurt. One by one, the memories hit me like a flash, gnawing at me while I made my way through the empty neon-lit lobby and advanced toward the elevator.

Did I even remember what she looked like? Or was her face altered and changed by the fickle fingers of memory?

Trying to keep on my feet I barged into the lift, surprising a middle-aged lady who stood against the translucent glass wall with eyes wide open and disdain written all over her wrinkled face. She curled her nose, either because of how badly I smelled or how bludgeoned I must have looked.

“Ever had sex in an elevator?” I teased, grabbing the flaccid bulge in my groin with a suggestive wink. Horrified, she grunted at me and fled in an instant.

Still laughing, I took the elevator and then sauntered toward the hotel room. My amusement surely died as my chest burnt with every heave and the unmistakable taste of iron climbed up my throat.

“Shit…” I mumbled. Exhausted, I sank into the cradling grave that was my bed, and my eyes soared to the ceiling. Memories of her lying beside me haunted my thoughts; the tender pads of her fingers, hovering over my hairy chest, the fragrance of her skin - subtle, like dry autumn leaves, wafted over me.

The idea that I might die here, in a city so far away from her, without her even knowing crept into my mind and a sense of painful hollowness wove in my gut.

If I could only speak to her, one last time…

“I still have her number,” I mumbled into the dim light.

I never lost it. Like an idiot I kept moving it from one burner phone to the other, lying to the agency that it was an important informant. Fishing for the device from my pants pocket, I stared at the black mirror and stroked a bloody thumb over the opaque reflection.

The last memory of her was sobs and screams, her pretty little face swelling as she cried because I told her I didn’t care about her.

And I really didn’t. At the time.

'Did I?'

My thumb slid to unlock the phone, seeking the directory for her name. And there it was, imprinted black on white. Just a name of a girl—a common name even—and yet my throat clenched just from uttering it on silent, chafed lips.

“Don’t do it…” I tried to reason with myself, remembering how she screamed at me that she never wants to see me again. Her eyes were so red I was afraid she'd cry blood and despite it all, she was pretty when she cried.

“Don’t be that idiot…” I warned myself.

But then the sound of the line ringing filled the room like the guilt that poisoned my heart.

'What heart?' I chuckled bitterly, my eyes squinting at the brightness of the screen while I stared and waited to hear her voice. “Answer princess, what time is it there anyway? Is it late?”

“Hello? Who is this…?”

My entire body stiffened once her voice penetrated my head. Crisp and sharp, buffered by the phone line yet her timbre was soft as always, just the way it was when we used to speak before that when I would call to say goodnight while on a mission. God, I lied to this woman more than I ever lied to anyone else in my entire life.

I didn’t deserve her, and yet I wanted her too badly.

“Hello?” she asked again, slightly groggy but not even an inch of agitation.

“Princess…” Finally, I managed to speak.

Silence fell on the other line and then her breath shuddered. She swallowed and exhaled loudly and all I could think of was how much I wanted to touch her face right now. It’s been a year, and yes, I might have been with a dozen other girls, but none of them was my sweet little angel with her tragic, soulful eyes.

“August…”

After all this time, my name was on those lips again. Instinctively I scoffed on the bed, bliss warm and golden surged through my tendons. She remembered my voice… she didn’t hang up right away.

“It’s three in the morning.” There was a deep sadness in her voice but no signs of anger, not that I could hear, so I pressed on, letting hope lead me astray.

“It’s me, yeah. Did I wake you up?”

“Are you drunk?”

I sniffed my own breath, the sour scent caused me to curl my nose. “No,” I lied. But she wasn’t fooled for a second. Words, as few as they were, slurred and she knew I was too proud to ever call a woman in order to tell her how much I fucking missed her.

“Are you alone right now?” The thought of someone lying next to her made me clench my jaw. Surely, my heartbeats slowed and like a cougar, I tried to listen to her bedroom to detect any shift of fabric, any weight on the mattress that wasn’t hers.

“Don’t do this,” she deflected, “you left me, remember? You didn’t want a relationship.”

‘I made a mistake, I want you, princess.’ I knew that now more than ever. I wanted to wake up next to her every morning, to have her sleeping on my chest, her little head resting on my pec while I caressed her hair.

Maybe with her, I could be normal. In my mind, I could see it all clearly; little potted herbs growing on our kitchen’s window ledge, friends coming over for a summer BBQ while I’m flipping burgers and she’s serving rolls in a summer dress. She would roll her eyes at my bad puns while I’ll sneak a cup at that delicious ass.

My sight became even blurrier, and something wet and warm rolled down the corners of my eyes. With a broken voice, I half-whispered, “I miss you…”

She remained silent, or at least she tried to, but the sound of her little sniffles was noticeable even through the hand that must have covered her mouth.

“Remember Malibu? Remember how I ate you out on the beach, during sunrise? You were so beautiful when you came around my mouth, your body arching on the sand, the first rays of sunlight kissed your nipples and showered your torso with warmth. You told me you could love me forever that day. Do you still feel that way?”

She pulled at her nose and swallowed slowly. I could see those beautiful eyes going glassy and for a moment there, I felt like that jerk again—the jerk that made his beautiful woman cry.

“Do you?” I asked again.

“Did you just call me to validate yourself?”

Answering a question with a question. Of course, my woman had always been wise.

“How many others have there been? Is there a list? Are you going through us all right now because you are bored and need to feel like a man?”

A faint grin stretched across my face. There it was, the anger, but it wasn’t because she hated me. No. It meant she still cared and perhaps she was even a little bit jealous if she asked about ‘others’.

“Angel, in all those long, excruciating months there was just you. I only ever wanted you.”

“August…”

An odd wail came from the other line, cutting her off mid-sentence. Alarmed, she let a sharp gasp and covered the handle to muffle the sounds.

‘Did she get a cat?’ I frowned dumbfounded but briefly the realisation hit and I shot up from the bed, pressing the phone so close to my ear it seared.

It’s been a year, enough time for...

“Is that…? Is it my ba…”

“I am sorry, I have to go,” she responded in obvious panic.

“Wait!”

I could hear her rushing out of bed, the rustling of the fabric whooshing while the cries grew louder and ravenous. “Please, August, just go to bed. You will forget all about me in the morning and move on with your life like you always did.”

The connection was severed as she hung up the phone. The cold, monotonous tune screamed through the device like the life support monitor of a dead man. But at that very moment, my heart was anything but lifeless; it pounded in my chest as if it was beating for the first time in many years.

Half-sat on the bed, I exhaled with sheer astonishment, my fingers still tingling at the discovery as I held onto the phone. 'You couldn’t let me leave, couldn’t you princess?' She kept a piece of me inside her, a piece that will forever symbolise how much she truly loved me.

A breathless chuckle left my throat. Fuck, it hurt but I couldn't care less anymore. Amid the blood and crushed bones, hope began to sprout, spreading throughout my chest and bringing life to what used to feel like a graveyard.

After all the years, there was a purpose, and I knew what had to be done. And maybe she'd hate me at first, perhaps she'd resent me for coming back, but now that we were a family, there was no way I was to be denied.

'I’m coming home, baby. Daddy is coming home.’

#henry cavill #august walker #august walker x reader #henry cavill x reader #august walker fanfiction

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jenelle-annalee · 1 year

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Books Read in 2022

1. A Court of Silver Flames- Sarah J. Maas

2. Told After Supper- Jerome K. Jerome

3. The Crazy Ladies of Pearl Street- Trevanian

4. To Kill a Kingdom- Alexandra Christo

5. The Father Christmas Letter- J.R.R. Tolkien

6. The Book of Doing and Being- Barnett Bain

7. The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August- Claire North

8. Northern Lights (Golden Compass)- Philip Pullman

9. The Subtle Knife- Phillip Pullman

10. The Amber Spyglass-Phillip Pullman

11. The Skincare Bible- Anjali Mahto

12. The Popular Culture Reader- John L. Nachbar Wright Jack, & Deborah Weiser

13. Another Roadside Attraction- Tom Robbins

14. Angels and Demons- Dan Brown

15. The Da Vinci Code- Dan Brown

16. The Vintage Tea Cup Club- Vanessa Greene

17. A Woman of Independent Means- Elizabeth Forsythe Hailey

18. The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart- Holly Ringland

19. Humankind: A Hopeful History- Rutger Bergman

20. Goddess- Kelly Gardi

21. Wild Animals I Have Known- Ernest Thompson Seton

22. Femme Fatale: Cinema’s Most Unforgettable Lethal Ladies- Dominique Manon and James Ursini

23. Crazy for the Storm- Norman Ollestad

24. The Power of Body Language: How to Succeed in Every Business and Social Encounter- Tonya Reiman

25. The Wolves of Willoughby Chase - Joan Aiken

26. Coffee, Tea, or Me? - "Trudy Baker" aka Donald Bain

27. Fifth Avenue, 5 AM: Audrey Hepburn, Breakfast at Tiffany's, and the Dawn of the Modern Woman- Sam Wasson

28. Audrey: Her Story- Alexander Walker

29. The Complete Films of Audrey Hepburn - Jerry Vermiyle

30. Audrey Hepburn: An Elegant Spirit, a Son Remembers- Sean Hepburn Ferrer

31. Gigi- Collette

32. Gentlemen Prefer Blondes- Anita Loos

33. Chalice- Robin McKinley

34. Dragon's Bane - Patricia Wrede

35. The Golem and the Jinni- Helene Wecker

36. The Prince and the Dressmaker- Jen Wang

37. The Path Made Clear- Oprah Winfrey

38. Lumberjanes- Shannon Watters, Grace Ellis, Gus Allen, and ND Stevenson

39. The Hidden Palace - Helene Wecker

40. Brazen: Rebel Ladies Who Rocked the World- Penelope Bagieu

41. Strange Practice- Vivian Shaw

42. Dreadful Company- Vivian Shaw

43. All Out: The No-Longer-Secret Stories Of Queer Teens Throughout The Ages- edited by Saundra Mitchell

44. The Library at Mount Char- Scott Hawkins

45. Grave Importance- Vivian Shaw

46. Verity- Colleen Hoover

47. Bravely- Maggie Stiefvater

48. 1602- Neil Gaiman

49. She Come By It Natural: Dolly Parton and the Women Who Lived Her Songs- Sarah Smarsh

50. Gallant- V.E. Schwab

51. Lore Olympus Vol. 1- Rachel Smythe

52. I'll Have What She's Having: My Adventures in Celebrity Dieting- Rebecca Harrington

53. Lore Olympus Vol. 2- Rachel Smythe

54. Moon Cakes- Suzanne Walker & Wendy Xu

55. The Tea Dragon Society- Katie O'Neill

56. The Tea Dragon Festival- Katie O'Neill

57. Travels with Foxfire: Stories of People, Passions, and Practices from Southern Appalachia- Foxfire Fund Inc.

58. My Year of Rest and Relaxation - Ottessa Moshfegh

59. Seance Tea Party- Reimenga Yee

60. Dolly Parton, Songteller: My Life in Lyrics- Dolly Parton and Robert K. Oermann

61. Lightfall: The Girl and the Galdurian

62. Tidesong- Wendy Xu

63. Name of the Wind- Patrick Rothfuss

64. The Girl from the Sea- Molly Knox Ostertag

65. Lightfall: The Shadow of the Bird

66. Neon Gods- Katee Robert

67. The Lighthouse Witches- C. J. Cooke

68. Six Crimson Cranes- Elizabeth Lim

69. I'd Rather Be Reading: The Delights and Dilemmas of the Reading Life- Anne Bogel

70. The Secret History- Donna Tartt

71. The Near Witch- V. E. Schwab

72. The Good Demon- Jimmy Cajole

73. The Illustrated Man - Ray Bradbury

74. Nettle & Bone- T. Kingfisher

75. Dracula- Bram Stoker

76. My Best Friend's Exorcism- Grady Hendrix

77. Batman: The Ultimate Evil- Andrew Vachss

78. World of Wonders: In Praise of Fireflies, Whale Sharks, and Other Astonishments- Aimee Nezhukumatathil

79. Odd and the Frost Giants- Neil Gaiman

80. How to Hygge: The Nordic Secrets to a Happy Life- Signe Johansen

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zacksnydered · 2 years

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Henry Cavill as August Walker Mission Impossible:Fallout (2018) Dir. Christopher McQuarrie

#henry cavill #henrycavilledit #cavilledit #hcavilledit #august walker #mission impossible #mission impossible fallout #dilfsource #netflixedit #filmtvedit #filmedit #flawlessgentlemen #mine.#edit: gifs.#fc; henry cavill.#char: august walker.#q.#1k

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supzrboy · 2 years

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char: august “gus” walker.

connections: ex-esposa (possuem guarda compartilhada do filho), médicx e amigx de anos, pessoa aleatória no parquinho.

ok... talvez ele tenha caído e ralado o braço no parquinho. em minha defesa, ele não quis parar de brincar por isso tá todo... sujo e essas coisas. — bateu a mão de leve contra a cabeça do filho e bagunçou o cabelo do menino.

#char: gus walker.

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hope-to-hell · 3 years

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This is my entry for @its--fandom--darling ‘s celebration challenge. My prompt was “kenopsia – n. the eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place that’s usually bustling with people but is now abandoned and quiet”. And here we are. Kenopsia (the way home). August Walker. Angst, brief violence, blood, and gore, minor character death, gross misuse of canon. You can’t go home again.

It’s either very late or very early, and in twenty-seven hours August Walker is going to die. It’s not the first time and it probably won’t be the last; there are half a dozen airports and rocky shores around the globe that are the last known sightings of Agent Walker, or whatever other names he’s answered to; he changes identities like other men change suits, and mostly he doesn’t mind it.

August Walker is the closest to his real name and the one he’s had the longest; recruitment into the CIA gave him stability and resources beyond his wildest dreams. And so he’s stayed, but twenty-seven hours from now he will disappear and all that’s left will be a pile of charred bones and the remnants of a helicopter rusting in a river valley. With him die all his secrets, all the machinations of a rogue agent, and he’ll rise somewhere (someone) else.

And if a fling from the past turned up and called him Michael one day when the mustache was still sitting strangely on his face, all his curls cropped into shape and his back broader than ever before, if he agreed to meet her in the alley and left her in pieces, well, that’s just the way it goes sometimes. No attachments, no regrets. That’s the job.

It’s like this. He’s not nice, not kind, not even good. Not really. He takes the direct path and if it’s right through your ribcage then so be it. Every life he lives is another stepping stone on the path to his impossible goal, whatever that is (the manifesto is close but it isn’t quite right; it’s what August Walker would write but what he wants is something wilder, the eye of the storm rendered eternal and everywhere death and ruin and then he can finally fucking rest).

(There’s an airstrip out in the middle of nowhere, co-opted from the parking lot of a vast abandoned strip mall; weeds grow through cracks in the asphalt and it’s two days’ hike to the safe house and the place where Michael’s ashes lie buried in the earth with all his discarded notebooks and sketches, and leading away are the ghosts of footprints from when John took his leave. Two days back and when he got there the little plane was waiting)

And when he flies coach because agents fly coach, Walker, suck it up and enjoy your twelve dollar beer, he hits the tarmac at two a.m. but he is wired beyond wired, all the pieces falling into place and it’s still four hours til he puts on his suit and pretends he isn’t gonna kill Ethan Hunt the first chance he gets. So what he does is find a pretty young thing and defiles her in the airport restroom, wishing he could run the risk of leaving anything of himself behind.

Wishes and horses, his reflection tells him; he pushes the anonymous girl’s head down and stares into his own eyes when he comes (Kashmir is still forever away and he’s already thinking about who he’s going to be next).

If the timeline makes no sense, that’s the point. Little of what he does makes sense either, not from the outside. It just seems cold and hard and cruel and in the empty airport his feet are thudding on thin carpet. He’ll meet Sloane and play the Hammer again, one last time. He’ll hope for a chance to drag Hunt til all the meat wears off his bones, but if the chance doesn’t come then it is what it is.

And now.

This is the last time, in a house where the rightful occupants are rotting in a shallow grave, where Solomon Lane changes the plan again and August is compensating as best he can. And in the silent spaces between words the house creaks as wind whips through the gaps in its walls; he doesn’t care about poisoning the water, not really. It’s just a stepping stone and whether it works or not he’s already got one foot in his new skin.

All of this is vanity on Solomon’s part, the last gasps of a man who knows he can’t get away, not this time, so he might as well try to get his vengeance on the way out. August doesn’t understand it, can’t understand hating one person enough to sacrifice guaranteed success in the name of twisting the knife just that little bit more.

(August hates Hunt but that doesn’t count. He senses the hypocrisy in some dark corner of his mind but squashes it down under the weight of “for the greater good.” He hates Hunt even more when he fucks the plan and suddenly August is raw and screaming and oh this is going to be a problem)

And he survives. It doesn’t matter how, because that’s not the point. The point is that August dies alone and in pain, and he crawls away with all his limbs like shards of glass and his face— his face. The surgeon sets him right, in the abandoned hospital with rats in the corridors and drips of water plip plip plip like the worst kind of torture, and when his face is healed enough to hide himself he departs, leaving a trail of bodies once again. It’s a shame; the doctor and his team were good and useful, but they saw his face. And not just the one hiding under fresh skin still pink and soft. They saw the crawling filthy core of him when he babbled in his delirium, when fever nudged him to the brink of what the fall failed to achieve.

It’s all a pity, but it’s just the job.

And even though the scars have been revised they’re still not gone, so he grows his curls and he grows his beard, and he slips into a new skin once again. He misses August just a little, misses all the resources at his disposal, even the pain of biting his tongue when his leash is pulled just that little bit too tight.

(It’s all lies, every word they said; in the corridors after hours he heard the night janitor's footsteps and once it was someone new, someone with knives and teeth who shed his mop and bucket like an old skin and thrust the blade at August’s ribs. It was a challenge, and a message. You work too slowly.

We must be close.

Not close enough, little man. Tch. Spent too long in that human suit.)

The lie was, what? Forgiveness? Rest? For him? No rest, not for him, because he binds the threads of fate with such deft hands. They promise him rest with their snakes’ tongues but they lie. And so he’s stayed in August so much longer than he should have, because August is strength and power and cruelty in this world; he is the Hammer and in his tread the flames of Hell spring forth.

(You like it)

When he fell in the before time, before Michael, before John, before all the rest, when he fell—

when he fell—

He felt the tatters of his wings

(Were they wings? Couldn’t be. It was only his scapulae ejected from his back, the force of a miles-long fall that should have rendered him paste, but come on. It’s him)

And he said, in short, fuck this. I quit.

(You’ll never quit)

When they meted out his punishment there was compassion in their eyes; they said you cannot quit but we will give you the worthiest of tasks. They said come home when your work is done. They said the door will be open and we will welcome you. We will salve your feet and hear the tales of all your triumphs. And maybe they meant it, but that doesn’t make it less of a lie because

(He shrugs on a sweater and Walt falls into place; he’ll try a little of the stern but gentle and maybe it’ll help. Maybe he’ll find the balance point, the place where all his many threads come together, the place where he can stand on one foot and command the whole of fate)

because nothing is going to work, not really; the more he grasps at fate, the more he binds its threads, the more it slips away from him. He walks these dark roads after hours hoping for a crossroads message; he knows the streetlights blink and hum but these ears of his can’t quite hear. Nor can these eyes of his see the many-colored nimbuses of light that follow close behind. And if he feels their whispers it’s only the prickling of instinct at his back; he is imprisoned and alone in this body that never fits quite right, that rubs against his creeping crawling face and all the tatters of who he was meant to be.

He walks, and thinks, and though he doesn’t sleep he dreams of falling.

#allie’s1kcelebration #henry cavill #august walker #my fic #august walker fic #mission: impossible fallout fic #mission impossible: fallout

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sherala007 · 3 years

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Fic Recs!!!

I don’t usually do fic recs because I know everyone’s tastes are different but I have a few that MUST be shared.

1. @disgruntledspacedad Better Love It’s based on the character Javier Pena from the Narcos series and her OFC Ears. It’s hot and sexy and with the action and adventure keeps you on the edge of your seat. Now, the link above will take you to her Masterlist for this series. There’s quite a bit to read. If I try to describe it I won’t be able to do it justice. Trust me, go read it. No, I mean go read it Now! It’s Awesome!

2. @lokilickedme The Department This is a cop au with many characters based on Tom Hiddleston, Zoe Saldana, Chris Evans, Hozier and many more. So far we’re at chapter 58 but, according to her, we’re getting close to the end. It’s based in a town called Weemeetwa, MN and has to do with the mob, crooked cops, Hozier’s char being a horndog. It’s addicting and also very Awesome!

3. @nuggsmum Applewine Valley This is a Syverson (Henry Cavil) fic that is so cute. I think a lot of us can relate to Izzy, the OFC in this story. She’s been screwed over, figuratively and literally, by a man and she moves to a small town to try to get on with her life. It’s got some parts that are funny. So far it’s just really sweet and lovable. Give it a try.

4. @nuggsmum is on here twice. My second suggestion of hers is Unexpected . This one is great for many reasons. Cassie, the OFC, is a fluffy lady. There aren’t many out there for us fluffy ladies. The Henry character in this one is August Walker. He goes from evil badass to loving badass! This one is also completed so you can binge this if you have the time. I Loved every minute I read it.

5. @just-the-hiddles Accidentally Married She writes an amazing Hiddles!! She’s got several stories up but this is her latest. It is RPF and Tom, to get out of a bad publicity cycle, does a type of fake marriage. They’re really married on paper but it’s only on the surface. Things don’t stay that way for long. It’s so cute. Check it out, please!!

6. @just-the-hiddles Another one with a second entry! Follow My Lead This story dips into the BDSM content and puts the man, Tom, as a sub. The OFC, Vivian is the Mistress, and also a lawyer. It’s fantastic and does a really good job representing that lifestyle. It’s a Great read, also completed so great for binging.

Ok, so these are the recs I have so far. I hope you enjoy them all!! To all the writers, I LOVE YOU GUYS!!! Thank you so much for helping keep my mind occupied and helping to lessen my anxiety and depression.

#fic recs #just-the-hiddles #nuggsmum #disgruntledspacedad #lokilickedme

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nxuroticisms · 2 years

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@bitemescftly asked 1c for August & Anna from this starter meme (used 2c as 1c was removed)

Coming home from a mission, he hadn’t expected to see his boss’s daughter prancing about his apartment in next to no clothing. A welcomed surprised and home coming present, even if it had thrown him at first. The two had been back and forth with this little explicit relationship for a few months but it had always been somewhere neutral. Hotels and the like, never at his place or hers. The one that he knew her father still payed for. Perhaps the month and a half away had made her desperate enough. With how lent up he had been, well, he wasn’t complaining.

Warm water beat down around them, splashing to the floor to scatter a mess. Hardly any of it was noticed. Not with how wrapped up in one another the two were, perhaps Anna a little more than August given their current position. Easily, strong arms held up the lithe, curvy body. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, though hardly doing much to keep her supported, just stable as he bounced her up and down his cock. It wasn’t the first place that they had enjoyed one another since his return. He had already dumped two loads into the tight little body and all the dirty talk had him eager to fuck her into oblivion, leaving her a blissed out, dripping mess.

“Think your little pussy can take another load, baby girl? I want you dripping of me, feeling like the slut you are when you go crawling back to Daddy. He’s got no fucking clue what a cock whore you are.”

#bitemescftly #char; august walker #para; august & anna #verse; before that push too far #carnal desires; usfw #inquiries; august walker

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demivampirew · 4 years

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Brothers

An August-Walter one-shot

Summary: August helps his twin brother rescue you, who’d been kidnapped.

Triggers: Kidnapping; death; drunk-driving; violence; use of curse words; heartbreak; family problems; death of parents

Tag list: @lunedelorient @henrythickcavill @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @mary-ann84 @desperate-and-broken @peakygroupie @summersong69 @ivvitm1109 @madbaddic7ed

The phone kept ringing non-stop. August was finishing getting ready to go meet Erika Slone to give him the information about a new case. He looked at the screen when it started but ignored it when he saw who was the caller. He hadn't talked to his brother in years and long before that their relationship was not at its best. He'd never forgive Walter for blaming him for their parent's death, even though he blamed himself as well - he should have told his parents he had more than a few drinks before driving them off to the airport for their trip. But he didn't want to disappoint them, to give them a reason to once more complain about how fucked up he was and that he should be more like his sibling; the golden child, the one that could do no wrong. After half an hour of the constant ringing, August finally decided to accept the call. - What the hell you want, Walter? I'm busy.- He said angrily and annoyed. - Y/N was kidnapped. - Walter said. His brother could hear the fear and sadness on his voice. He was heartbroken. But he wasn't the only one. As soon as he heard those words, it felt as if someone dig a hand into his chest and crushed his heart. Their relationship was bad, but they tried to get along for a while and they succeeded until you came along. You moved next to his house and became friends with him. He fell for you and thought about giving everything up for you. He planned to get a normal job, to carry a simple life so you'll never be in danger and could be happy. Yet, life was once more unfair to him. Walter showed up one thanksgiving to spent the day with him and you were there. Long story short, he soon had you on his arms. The golden child, the one who could do no wrong, made the woman of his dreams fall deeply in love with him. August thought about sharing his feelings with you, but he saw that there was no point. You soon moved out to live with Walter, taking all the light in his life with you. After that, he lost all contact with his remaining family. He knew; his brother knew how he felt about you, but his feelings towards you made him ignored how selfish it was to be with the woman his own blood loved and did exactly that. That's when August realized he and his brother would never be in good terms again. He'll never forgive him for that. Now, hearing that you've been taken and that you could be suffering right now or even worse made him feel nauseous and filled him with anger. He wanted to find the people who did that to you and kill them. If someone made you suffer, they would suffer twice the pain you have. And he wanted to hurt his brother. How he let that happen? If you would be with him, he'd had murder anyone who tried to put a hand on you. - I know you hate me... I don't blame you for that. But I also know you care a great deal about her.- Walter continued after a long silence.- I'm using all the sources I have and asking favours to people I know looking for help to find her, but her whereabouts are still unknown. I'm begging you, Charlie, help me find her.- he begged. - August. Charlie not longer exists and you know that. - he corrected him. He heard his brother sigh. - August.-he accepted.- Please. I know your resources are bigger than mine. I need you to help me get her back safe. - What information do you have about her disappearance?- he requested - The last person to see her was her boss. She said that after leaving the store, she saw her get in her car and then she turned to read a phone message and when she looked back, the car was gone. We checked the security cameras of the store and there was no footage of that day. The same thing happened with the ones two blocks around her working place. After that, there's no sign of her or her car or any car for the matter. It's like if she had vanished.- Walter explained worriedly. - That's because that was the plan of the people who took her.- August assured furious- This wasn't a job of a creep. Whoever kidnapped her, knew exactly what was doing, who she was and planned it. - You think that...this is about taking her as a sex...-his brother couldn't even finish the sentence. - No. This is more personal. This is about revenge.- he sighed, closing his hand in a fist to control his rage. He felt a fire raising in his body. People would get hurt. He would make sure of that. There was a long silence before anyone spoke again. Both brothers were suffering, fearing the worst. - Keep me informed about any new information you find. - August ordered Walter. - Same for you.-he agreed.- And Char... August, thank you. - I'm not doing this for you.- he replied. - I know. Still, thank you.- he finished and August hung out the phone with saying anything else. It was revenge, there was no doubt of that on August's head. The question was revenge against who? For what? This wasn't about you; you were just an employee at a clothing shop. A lovely woman who wouldn't hurt a fly. So why anyone would want to hurt you? No, the plan was to use you against someone close to you. There were only two people that could have somebody wanting revenge: Walter, a police Lieutenant working on homicide section of the force or, well, himself; a double agent working for the CIA and with a rebellious organization looking to tear down the CIA from the inside. Could have someone on the CIA found out that August was also John Lark and was trying to attack him for that? How could that be possible? He was pretty good a covering everything up, although he had to admit to himself that that seemed more likely that someone trying to hurt Walter. That infuriated him more. He hated himself his entire life for causing his parents deaths; he could even allow the thought of being the reason something bad happened to you. He immediately contacted all The Apostles working in the CIA to search for her. He had to go to meet Sloane so she wouldn't find out about you. If this wasn't her doing, it was best for her not to know that there was someone he cared about if someday things went wrong. He pretended to care about the mission. As much as he wanted to do nothing but search for you, he needed to do what his boss asked him to. His mission was to find a folder with secret information that could hurt the organization. Something that the Apostles would love to have access to. I took him two days to recover the archives and made a copy before returned them to Erika Slone. She was impressed by the speed of his work, that she granted him a few days off to handle personal business. The people working with him in secret were not happy with him using their resources to find an "insignificant woman," as one of them pointed out to August, which unleashed his anger and he beat him until he was agonizing. After that nobody questioned him anymore. The more time it passed without knowing about you, the more desperate he'd get and the more dangerous he became. He tried to sleep because he needed to be ready to fight, but there was no chance he'd sleep knowing you were still in danger. He texted his brother a few times to check for new information but he was clueless as he was.

Three weeks had passed since the last time you were seeing. And, for the first time, August had received useful information. Your father, whom you haven't seen since you were twelve years old, had adopted a new identity years ago, putting himself in a protection witness program after giving up some dangerous gangsters he used to work for. August took the first flight he found to Florida to search for him. The man in his middle sixties entered his apartment to find the tall, muscle man wearing a brown suit with a beige shirt and a tie. The big man was sitting on the couch, that looked much smaller than it was with him sitting on it. August stood up, fixing his blazer, adopting a further dangerous appearance. - Who are you? - you father asked. - Your worst nightmare if you don't cooperate.- he warned him. - What do you want from me?- he questioned - Your daughter - Walker started - I have not daughter.- the man replied, shaking - Your new you doesn't, but the old one does. Remember Y/N? The daughter you cowardly abandoned when she was a child? She's been taken by someone and I want to find her. As soon as August explained the reason for his visit, your progenitor covered his face with both hands, sitting on a chair, crying. - My little girl... I thought she'd been safe without me around.- he cried.- They've taken her. This is their doing.- he assured. - Who are they?- August demanded he was about to lose all the remaining patience. - My former boss. He's one of the biggest gangsters in the country. He's bad news. - your father informed.- I started to work for him when y/n was born and I had recently lost my job and was desperate for money. I had a daughter to take care of. At first, my job was simple, just being his driver. Soon enough, my job included cleaning blood for the car and covering for him and help his people get rid of bodies. One day I could no take that anymore, so I confessed the story to the FBI and they offered protection if I gave them all the information necessary to arrest him, so I did that. My family didn't know about my wrongdoings, so I prefered for them to think that I abandoned them to know what kind of man I was. The FBI was supposed to take care of her. August sighed. A part of him wanted to crush his skull for being the reason you were in danger and for abandoned you, and other part felt a little sympathy. He also knew what it was to make mistakes that caused pain to loved ones. - Probably they did that until she was an adult and thought she was safe when she started to date a police Lieutenant.- your partner's brother explained.- Tell me everything you got on him. There has to be any useful information you can give me to find her. - Who are you? Why are you doing this? - I'm someone who'd do anything to bring her home safe and that's all you need to know. Now, start talking.

August found you on a room laid on a bed. You were on fetal position, covering your face with your hands, facing the wall. He approached you and stroke your hair and you turned around quickly, shaking of fear. Your eyes were red and a bit swelled due to crying. As soon as you realized who it was, you hugged him with all the strength you had left and cry. He embraced you, pulling you closer to him, making you feel safe. He gave you his blazer to keep you warm and help you get out. He covered your face and asked you not to watch, but you inevitable you saw a room filled with dead bodies. You closed your eyes trying to erase that image. He sat you on the passenger seat of a car and soon he was sitting on the driver's side. He drove for a few hours and then stopped at the side of the road. You looked at him and he smiled at you, stroking your face and pulling the hair behind your ear. " Walter is picking you up here. He's on his way," August explained. You nodded. You tried to grab his hand, but pulled right away when you felt the heat of his skin; your hands were freezing and you didn't want him to be cold. He noticed that, so he took your hand and use his hands to warm them up. "Thank you, Aust," you said smiling, "thank you so much". You took him by surprise. It's been such a long time since he heard you call him Aust, the nickname you gave him soon after you became friends with him. He missed that, a lot. He turned the heat of the car for you to get warm. Two hours later, you saw a car stop in front of you. It was Walter's Ford F-150. As soon as you recognized it, you jumped out of the car and ran into him. He imitated you, getting off the car just in time to catch you when you thew yourself into his arms. He hugged you, putting his hand on the back of your head in a protective manner. You could feel his heavy breath. He grabbed a big jacket from the back of the car and put it on you, giving you his gloves as well. Walter faced his brother when he approached to make sure you were ok before he left. He offered a hand for August to shake, thanking him for saving you. He, as stubborn as he was, ignored him and turned around and started to walk off. Before getting into the car, he shouted to you not to worry, that he had taken care of the bad guys and now you were completely safe and then he turned on the car and drove away. You hugged and kissed Walter. He kissed all over your face and then helped you get on the car to take you home.

#august walker #walter marshall #august walker fanfic #august walker fanfiction #walter marshall fanfic #walter marshall fanfiction #one-shot #august walker one shot #walter marshall one shot #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #demivampirew

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aveis-the-red · 4 years

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LFRP - Aveis Walker - Mateus

THE BASICS ––– –

Age: Early 30′s

Birthday: 20th Sun of the Fourth Umbral Moon (August 20)

Race: Midlander Hyur of Ishgardian descent

Gender: Female

Sexuality: 99% Heterosexual

Marital Status: In a relationship

Home World: Mateus (Crystal DC)

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE ––– –

Hair: Long, red and wavy with dark tips.

Eyes: Green

Height: 5 fulms, 5 ilm.

Build: Solid. Busty with strong muscular legs.

Distinguishing Marks: Her torso is horribly scarred. Old deep claw marks rake from under her left breast all the way across to her right hip. A newly healed stab wound mars her ribs.

Common Accessories: A long chain around her neck that bears two Raen scales. Curiously one is a shade of blue. While not an accessory, her rapier is highly noticeable--the blade glows purple and pulses with lightning aspected aether.

PERSONAL ––– –

Profession: Seamstress, occasionally part of a group of for hire voidsent hunters and misc. missions.

Hobbies: Learning to cook, book collecting.

Languages: Eorzean. Limited understanding of Hingan and Doman.

Residence: Lavender Beds

Birthplace: Ishgard

Religion: The Twelve

Patron Deity: Halone--though Aveis has a love and hate relationship with her diety.

Fears: Losing Soka, losing her Pack, being alone, being a horrible mother, the past catching up to her, large bodies of water.

RELATIONSHIPS ––– -

Spouse: None; Soka is her lover but they are not married

Children: Currently pregnant with her first child

Parents: Estranged

Siblings: Three older brothers, estranged, one dead

Other Relatives: Various nieces and nephews she’s never met.

Pets: None

TRAITS ––– -

* Bold your character’s answer.

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION ––– –

Smoking Habit: On occasion (when not pregnant). Drugs: Rarely (when not pregnant). Alcohol: Often (when not pregnant).

RP HOOKS ––– –

War’s a Bitch: Served in the Dragonsong War a decade or so ago? It’s possible they fought side by side.

Blueblood is Red on the Ground: For those with nobles of Ishgardian descent, it’s more than possible that they might remember/know of a rather minor House’s daughter who caused a scandal by fleeing on her wedding day to her lord’s youngest son. The Houses never forget good, dirty scandals, and they may recognize Aveis--and her real name.

Adventurin’ : After serving in the Dragonsong War Aveis spent many years traveling and working as an adventurer. She was especially fond of drinking in the Quicksand and getting into trouble.

Can’t Go Naked: Aveis owns the Red Dragon Stitchery in Shirogane. While it’s temporarily closed since she’s on maternity leave, she is more than capable of sewing, knitting and crocheting clothing and make other textiles. Her specialty is Ishgardian fashion, and she’s currently studying Far Eastern styles and techniques.

CONTACT INFORMATION ––– –

In Game: Aveis Walker@Mateus Tumblr: aveis-the-red Discord: Usi#3331 OOC ––– –

RP partners and chars need to be 18+, no exceptions.

Not looking for romance, as Aveis is in a relationship and her lover is possessive.

Would prefer partners who are equally comfortable rping in Discord as well as in-game. In fact, slight preference for Discord would be better, as...

I work 12 hour shifts, so my in-game time isn’t frequent. If you like your partners to have a strong in-game presence I’m not a good match for you.

OOC conversation needs to happen to hash out any potential plots or to deal with things such as injuries, etc. No character death.

I like a variety of themes, including darker, more adult/mature ones.

#lfrp #lfrp ffxiv #mateus lfrp #lfrp crystal #looking for rp #looking for rp partners

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littlefreya · 3 years

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Easy Prey

Summary: Direct sequel to Jerk. Ring or not, August promised himself that he will make you his, in whatever mean possible and he kept that promise.

Pairing: August Walker x Reader (2nd person pov)

Word count: 1.6K

Warnings: 18+, dark, kidnapping, bondage, dubious consent, teasing, dirty talk, gunplay (yeah add this to the list of kinks I gave you), sweet degradation and praise.

A/N: You thought August is going to sweet talk this one, didn’t you? Surprise! This was a short drabble brought by a prompt, turned into a one-shot and then my beta @agniavateira suggested this as a sequel to Jerk before I posted. Since most of you may be in a thanksgiving dinner tomorrow, enjoy my own early b-day gift to you! Many thanks to @wondersofdreaming and @sapphirescrolls who convinced me to post this.

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed. Your feedback is my fuel. 🖤

Easy Prey

August Walker lived his life swinging between the two sharp edges of a sword; but then, how could he not? He had to maintain a handsome prime-alpha male reputation while hiding his true cruel nature masked beneath mist and shadows.

It took everyone by surprise once it was revealed that the slick, charming agent was a vicious, Armani-wearing monster. A hard-to-swallow pill for most, but these two diverse entities were always one and the same:

August Walker was John Lark the way darkness followed light.

And how unfortunate it was of you to be lured into the spider’s web, stunned by the beauty of the pearly silk; you’ve gotten too close and had your limbs caught in the sticky threads. Now captured, you’ve earned yourself a taste of August’s sweet toxin yourself.

Fear wasn’t even close to the sensation that was gnawing in your gut.

The suite was cosy; a sleepy fire crackled in the mantle, shy beams of maple light kissed your bare breasts while you laid upon the softest pillows. It felt like a sinister joke compared to the ropes charring the supple flesh of your wrists. August had you stripped of any remnants of protection of course, save for the little jewellery circling your finger which he eyed with a blank stare that screamed in its contained silence.

Fully clothed, he stood at the fore of the bed, wearing a blue three-piece suit as if he was attending a royal wedding. A magnum was clutched in his right hand and a dagger in the other. The calmness and elegance of his appearance only made you arch and grunt in your fruitless attempts to set yourself free.

“Ropes too tight, angel?” He hummed, his voice so pleasant it felt like your lungs were floating in a void. His crystal-pale gaze dawdled upon you, invading beneath the skin, penetrating the warm crease between your legs which you fought to keep shut.

He felt it, or maybe even smelled the arousal that wafted at his direction and chanted his name.

“I’d save my strength if I were you. We’ve already proven that no one can hear your screams and we have a long night ahead of us.”

His words covered the bones of your spine with a thick layer of frost and in your searing throat, a bitter substance reemerged. Screwing your eyes shut, you wished more than anything for this to be a nightmare; but every time the binds twisted about your hands, you remembered the dreadful meaning behind the pain.

It was there to remind you of the harsh slap that was reality.

August tilted his head, a smile beginning to spread from each corner of his mouth: all pleasant and charming as if this was nothing but a couple’s naughty getaway.

“You can’t wake up from this, this is not a dream… or a nightmare, depends on your disobedience,” he assured, boding a sudden hollow in your chest. “Now, which one do you prefer? The knife or the gun?”

“Fuck you!”

Defiant, you gathered yourself to scream a trembling cry, sending your legs to kick the mattress in a hopeless fight. Only it made things worse as August was able to spot the little dew-kissed orchid between your legs, glistening-wet with invitation.

Flicking a tongue over his upper lip, he crept close. His broad shoulders strained, his posture that of an elegant predator; as you saw the large outlines of his heavy cock stretching his navy-blue trousers, even hatred and horror couldn’t mask the pang of need that shot through your core.

Despite the panic, the traitorous instinct of life whispered of undisclosed, primal lust. You wished so badly you could fight or hide it, but alas there was no hiding from August. He could sense it, see it, and even taste it on his wicked tongue.

“Gun then,” he answered and slid the knife back into the holster in his belt.

Your breath hitched as the mattress dipped beneath his weight, and you watched paralysed as he aimed the gun between your legs. Strong tremors coursed along your skin and your knees buckled and wobbled as the cold metal touched you; and yet, in that very moment, you did the impossible and moaned.

“Has it been that long since you had a dick inside you?” August observed with a vicious grin crisping his lips. It made his moustache twitch almost comically.

“Don’t worry sweet angel, we’ll fix that soon.”

Pushing the gun between your kneecaps, he forced them open and ran the barrel feverishly down your inner thighs. The metal was freezing against your flesh, eliciting little tingles to spiral beneath the tender brush. Gasping, you looked away from him ashamed. You were terrified, not just of him, but from how much the wanton centre of your sex clenched from his ministrations.

You were bound and kidnapped by a dangerous man, and yet in your mind played the sick fantasies of him unbuckling his belt and giving you his full girth hard and wild.

“You will soon have me in every hole,” August continued with a promise on his honeyed lips while lowering the brim of the weapon perilously close to your radiating heat and toying with the sensitive area teasingly. “I will make it hurt real bad, you’ll feel me there for days if not more,” he hummed and swerved the barrel between your engorged lips.

“Please!” You gasped and writhed away slightly, tugging on the binds that began chafing your delicate skin. August raised his glare to meet your pleading eyes and leaned forward, his shadow looming over you entirely. Reaching one hand to your nape, he clutched you forcefully while his icy glare pierced right through your skull.

Slow and sensual he began to run the gun between your soft petals, gingerly grazing the hard shaft at the plump peak of flesh that made you cry out with both pleasure and despair.

“Aww...” He keened and groaned. Never stopping his coaxing of your cunt with the still object, his breath huffed hot upon your cheek as he rounded his beautiful lips in faux pity. “Poor helpless little butterfly.”

Crying and dazed, you stared directly into his eyes. Words of plea kept running caged inside your head, unable to make their way out while you watched August’s large shoulder move back and forth. The movement resulting in the unwanted pleasure. Back and forth, he stroked you, gradually increasing the pace, and not without style even. Ruthless, August was keen on making you come.

You weren’t even sure what it was that you begged for at that point.

Grunts and sobs escaped your throat unwillingly. You squirmed and pushed against it, your body craving for more: not just for the rough friction that tingled at your cunt but also at the large bulge visible at his groin. The more rapture began to creep through your flowing tendons, the further you sank into delirium, wondering how he would feel like buried deep between your tight walls, fucking you the way only someone who has no boundaries would.

“Fuck!” You screamed, grinding against the metal while August leaned even closer and kissed the corner of your mouth before groaning and moaning at your lips. His hand worked hard between your thighs, the cold barrel now warm, the hollow edge coated with your elixir.

The wall of your protests crumbled as the simmering surge of climax began pushing itself down your belly, leaving you teetering between self-loathing and ecstasy.

“That’s right my beautiful butterfly, I’ll pluck your wings,” August promised in a husky whisper, watching you as you coiled and cried louder, your walls convulsing tightly around a sad, empty space as you came. If only you didn’t wish it was August choked between them instead.

As you slumped down, sweaty and breathless, he drawled a growl of content and slowly withdrew the gun to hold it next to your shivering face.

“I swear, Sloan’s assistants keep getting sluttier every year; the last one I fucked had a thing for me choking her,” he mocked while grazing the wet barrel against your cheek, “do you think you’d be into that too, sweetling? My hand around your throat?”

Rounding your eyes in utter fear, you swallowed the dryness in your throat. August sighed with a malicious little grin while twisted awe danced between the blue, sparkling sapphires that examined you ecstatically, so fascinated by how easily he managed to break and bend you to his will.

Still holding the neck of the gun pressed next to your cheek, he reached the other hand above your head. A part of you was relieved for a moment, thinking he was about to untie the bind.

But your hope quickly died as you felt his fingers rolling the ring that decorated your finger.

The diamond reflected onto the deep blue of his eyes as he examined it closely before throwing it directly into the fireplace.

“No!” You cried out brokenly, as the last memory of your old life disappeared in flames.

“Save your tears beautiful,” August retorted, his voice once again so soft it chilled your very core. He shifted his entire weight between your straddled thighs, and leaned in to kiss the wetness below your eye, “you won’t be needing it anymore.”

His tongue slipped out to collect the briny liquid that gathered on your cheek, and another hum of delight rumbled in his chest as his covered cock unmistakably ground against your mound, “I am your man from now on, might as well accept it and let me do whatever I want.”

Shivering under him, you took a deep breath, your body already swaying in demand as you felt him throbbing beneath the soft fabric of his pants. To your own horror, your head fell into a slow nod of shameful consent.

It wasn’t just August you were afraid of, but also for yourself.

#henry cavill #August Walker #august walker x reader #henry cavill x reader #august walker fanfiction #august walker x you #dark!fanfiction

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onlyhenrys · 4 years

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Okay! So. Pick top 3 char you write for and 1 fav writer. Youre all camping at a cabin in the woods (bonus Q: only 2 beds?? 👀) when 1 of you turns up dead. Whos the 1st victim? 2 go to get help, who do you stay behind with? Who returns & who was the 2nd victim? (sorry) The one you stayed with thinks the one that returned is the murderer. You have to pick one of them to side with and help take the other one out, who do you pick?

Omgggg okay here we go (I love this one 😂) thank you so much for asking me

My top 3 favorite characters are: 1: Geralt, 2: August, 3: Napoleon Solo

I’m gonna pick my soul sister @promptandpros (sorry babe, guess we’re gonna have a rough night)

I’m gonna sleep with Geralt and I’m gonna leave @promptandpros to the care of August and Napoleon hahahaha

First victim: Napoleon Solo, he probably annoyed the heck out of the killer by stealing something 😂

@promptandpros and August Walker are gonna get help while I stay behind with my sweet Geralt. Sadly only @promptandpros comes back, poor August, killed by her beauty.

The thing is..... friends comes before lovers, so I’m gonna side with my friend Lauren and together we’re taking sweet Geralt out, even tho it hurts my heart 😭

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pizza-italian · 5 years

Text

Learning the Art of Wood Fire Pizza Cooking.

In August of this year I made the decision that I was going to buy a wood fire oven for my backyard. After doing a massive amount of research I decided the Strada oven from Forno Bravo was the one for me. There are options for purchasing kits to build your own, or just starting from scratch and taking on your own construction project, but as stated in an earlier post where I reviewed the book Build Your Own Barrel Oven my skills in that area are not up to that level without assistance. I don’t like to back down from a challenge but taking on a project like that would require a huge learning curve and time investment.

The decision on which oven to purchase was based on cost, size, and portability. The Stada is the smallest oven that Forno Bravo (or anyone else that I’m aware of) makes and even though I would have preferred a larger model I like that it is small enough to take with me in the event I move. If one has unlimited resources any size wood fire oven can be moved but in my opinion this is the only one that would be practical to move without a huge effort focused solely on transporting the oven.

On the Road Again – North to Salinas.

The Strada model also fits into the back of my Ford Escape so I had the option of going to the factory to pick it up vs. spending 100′s of dollars in shipping. The factory is in Salinas, Ca, which is roughly 300 miles (one way) from where I live in Ventura Co. After checking in with Forno Bravo to make sure I understood the dimensions correctly and that it would definitely fit in my Escape I made the purchase and set a time/date to pick it up. Six hundred miles of driving in one day is a lot but I’ve driven to Seattle and back a couple of times the past few years and I’ve learned to like the long drives. Plus Firestone Walker is along the way as is one of my favorite stops for Mexican food (Zorro’s) in Pismo Beach. So, after checking out a Stephen King audiobook (The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon) from the library I was off to Salinas.

Upon arrival at Forno Bravo one of the workers said, “I don’t know if it’s going to fit in your SUV.” I reminded him that there is a picture on their web site of the Strada in the back of a small SUV like mine. He pointed to a SUV parked on the street and said, “That’s the one in the picture, I think it’s a little bigger than yours.” Fortunately, after a few stressful minutes of watching the forklift approach the Escape with the Strada aboard, I was very happy to see that it did fit, barely.

While talking to the oven builders I mentioned the web site shows two guys carrying the oven from the back of the car and I asked if they thought that was sufficient. The young bucks in the crowd said, “Two people can carry it, well, maybe for guys your age you should have three.” Ha Ha.

After driving home I asked two friends to come over and help me move it from the car to the backyard (they get free pizza for life). They were a little skeptical that it was a three-person job and suggested we get a fourth. I told them what the factory guys said so we decided to man up and give it a try. We got the job done but if you are ever in this situation I recommend you have four people on hand to transport the oven.

Blazing away at sunset.

Next step: the curing process. In order to create an environment in which the oven can handle high heat it has to be cured. The process involves lighting increasingly hotter fires every day over a one-week period. Forno Bravo gives very specific guidelines on how this is to be done and it was emphasized at the factory that the oven must be cured properly. I followed the instructions closely and learned that the curing process creates a lot of smoke. My wife was not thrilled with the clouds of smoke blowing across the back yard every night and I don’t think my neighbors were thrilled about it either but once the curing process is done there is a lot less smoke. It is wood fire though, so there is going to be some smoke but in my opinion it’s not excessive and shouldn’t be a deterrent.

Contemplating the dough.

Once the oven was cured I was ready to bake but first I had to contemplate the flour. For traditional wood fire Pizza Napoletana one uses Type 00 Flour. I’d tried the 00 in my kitchen oven on several occasions and never had good results. In that environment I had much better luck with Sir Lancelot from King Arthur Flour. I decided I needed to revisit the 00 as it can handle the higher heat and it’s the standard for wood fire ovens. If you check out My Pie Monday at Slice.seriouseats.com you will see some magnificent examples of wood fire pizza baked with 00 flour from TXCraig and others.

My first attempts were a little disappointing but not related to the flour. There is a process of getting to know the oven and the only way to do that is to keep baking, so every time I fire up the oven the pizza comes out a little better. I still have a ways to go but there is always improvement with a lesson learned and even the first pizzas were edible. It’s not like they were so bad I had to throw them away, they just had some flaws, such as being too charred or they had baked unevenly. They didn’t make pretty pictures but they still tasted good (for the most part).

Baking bread has had a steeper learning curve but I’m slowing making progress with that process also. One area where I’ve had success right of the bat is roasting meat. Putting a pork butt in the oven overnight for pulled pork the next day has produced great results!

Just a note on pizza toppings: I’m open minded about toppings but I don’t have an anything goes attitude. I can’t imagine that a time will ever come when there aren’t Margherita Pizzas coming out of the oven on a regular basis so I do have a bit of a fundamentalist streak. However, my favorite pizza that I’ve made in the Starda (or in the kitchen oven) is what I call my Spanish pizza: sun dried tomatoes, roasted red peppers, Spanish Chorizo, and Drunken Goat cheese.

Not quite there yet but getting closer.

To be continued…….

#pizza #pizzaoven #bestpizza #outdoorcooking #pizzalife #i love pizza

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victorianwhitechapel · 6 years

Text

East End attacked women (fall XIX century)

Rainham Mystery

Birth date: ? Attacked: ? Murdered (age): ? Found: May/June 1887

Complexion: ? Eyes colour: ? Hair colour: ? Height: ? Ocupation: ?

Clothes at the time of murder: ?

Resting place: ?

~ ~ ~

Emily Atkins Horsnell

Birth date: Ca 1860/61 Attacked: November 5, 1887 Death (age): November 10, 1887 (26 or 27)

Complexion: ? Eyes colour: ? Hair colour: ? Height: ? Occupation: charwoman

Clothes at the time of attack: ?

Resting place: ?

~ ~ ~

Margaret Hames

Birth date: 1833 Attacked: December 8, 1887 (ca. 54, survived) & April 3, 1888 (ca. 55, survived) Death (age): ?

Complexion: ? Eyes colour: ? Hair colour: ? Height: ? Occupation: ?

Clothes at the time of attack: ?

Resting place: ?

~ ~ ~

Annie Millwood

Birth date: Ca. 1850 Attacked: February 25, 1888 Death (age): March 31, 1888 (38)

Complexion: ? Eyes colour: ? Hair colour: ? Height: ? Ocupation: ?

Clothes at the time of attack: ?

Resting place: ?

~ ~ ~

Ada Elbury Wilson

Birth date: 1868 Attacked: March 28th 1888 (ca. 25, survived) & June 25th 1891 (ca. 28, survived) Death (age): August 24th 1952 (aged 89)

Complexion: ? Eyes colour: ? Hair colour: ? Height: ? Ocupation: Seamstress

Clothes at the time of attack: ?

Resting place: ?

~ ~ ~

Emma Elizabeth Smith

Birth date: 1843 Attacked: April 3, 1888 Death (age): April 4, 1888 (45)

Complexion: Fair Eyes colour: ? Hair colour: Light brown Height: 5’ 2" (157 cm) Ocupation: Occasional casual prostitution (?)

Clothes at the time of attack: ?

Resting place: City of London Cemetery & Crematorium.

~ ~ ~

Martha White Tabram

Birth date: May 10, 1849 Attacked and murdered (age): August 7, 1888 (39)

Complexion: Dark Eyes colour: ? Hair colour: Dark Height: 5' 3" (160 cm) Ocupation: Cheap trinkets seller, occasional casual prostitution

Clothes at the time of murder: A black bonnet, long black jacket, a dark green skirt, brown petticoat and stockings, spring-sided boots showing considerable age.

Resting place: City of London Cemetery & Crematorium.

~ ~ ~

Mary Ann “Polly” Walker Nichols

Birth date: August 26, 1845 Attacked and murdered (age): August 31, 1888 (43)

Complexion: Dark Eyes colour: Dark brown Hair colour: Light brown Height: 5' 2" (157 cm) Ocupation: domestic servant, occasional casual prostitution

Clothes at the time of murder: A black Straw bonnet trimmed with black velvet, a reddish brown ulster with seven large brass buttons bearing the pattern of a woman on horseback accompanied by a man; a brown linsey frock (apparently new); a white flannel chest cloth; black ribbed wool stockings; two petticoats, one gray wool, one flannel, both stenciled on bands "Lambeth Workhouse"; brown stays (short); flannel drawers; men's elastic (spring) sided boots with the uppers cut and steel tips on the heels.

Resting place: City of London Cemetery & Crematorium.

~ ~ ~

Annie Smith Chapman

Birth date: September 1841 Attacked and murdered (age): September 8, 1888 (47)

Complexion: Pallid Eyes colour: Blue Hair colour: Dark Brown Height: 5′ (152 cm) Ocupation: crochet work, flower seller, occasional casual prostitution

Clothes at the time of murder: A long black figured coat that came down to her knees; a black skirt; a brown bodice; another bodice; 2 petticoats; a large pocket worn under the skirt and tied about the waist with strings (empty when found); lace up boots; red and white striped woolen stockings; neckerchief, white with a wide red border (folded tri-corner and knotted at the front of her neck. she is wearing the scarf in this manner when she leaves Crossingham's).

Resting place: Manor Park Cemetery & Crematorium, Forest Gate.

~ ~ ~

Whitehall Mystery

Birth date: ? Attacked: ? Murdered (age): ca. 24/25 Found: September 11/October 2 1888

Complexion: Fair skin Eyes colour: ? Hair colour: Dark Height: ? Ocupation: ?

Clothes at the time of murder: A broché satin dress; a black petticoat, ?

Resting place: ?

~ ~ ~

Elizabeth Gustafsdotter Stride

Birth date: November 27, 1843 Attacked and murdered (age): September 30, 1888 (44)

Complexion: Pale Eyes colour: Light grey Hair colour: Brown dark Height: 5' 5" (165 cm) Ocupation: Sewing and charring, occasional prostitute

Clothes at the time of murder: A long black cloth jacket, fur trimmed around the bottom with a red rose and white maiden hair fern pinned to it; a black skirt; a black crepe bonnet; a checked neck scarf knotted on left side; a dark brown velveteen bodice; 2 light serge petticoats; 1 white chemise; white stockings; spring sided boots.

Resting place: East London Crematorium & Cemetery, Plaistow.

~ ~ ~

Catherine Eddowes

Birth date: April 14, 1842 Attacked and murdered (age): September 30, 1888 (46)

Complexion: ? Eyes colour: Hazel Hair colour: Dark auburn Height: 5' (152 cm) Ocupation: tinplate industry employee, Penny Dreadfuls seller, hop picker

Clothes at the time of murder: A black straw bonnet trimmed in green and black velvet with black beads, with black strings, worn tied to the head; a black cloth jacket trimmed around the collar and cuffs with imitation fur and around the pockets in black silk braid and fur. Large metal buttons; a dark green chintz skirt, 3 flounces, brown button on waistband. The skirt is patterned with Michaelmas daisies and golden lilies; a man's white vest, matching buttons down front; a brown linsey bodice, black velvet collar with brown buttons down front; a grey stuff petticoat with white waistband; a very old green alpaca skirt (worn as undergarment); a very old ragged blue skirt with red flounces, light twill lining (worn as undergarment); a white calico chemise; a pair of men's lace up boots, mohair laces. Right boot repaired with red thread; 1 piece of red gauze silk worn as a neckerchief; 1 large white pocket handkerchief; 1 large white cotton handkerchief with red and white bird's eye border; 2 unbleached calico pockets, tape strings; 1 blue stripe bed ticking pocket; a brown ribbed knee stockings, darned at the feet with white cotton

Resting place: City of London Cemetery & Crematorium.

~ ~ ~

Mary Jane Kelly

Birth date: c.1863 Attacked and murdered (age): November 9, 1888 (25)

Complexion: Fair Eyes colour: Blue Hair colour: Blonde Height: 5' 7″ (170 cm) Ocupation: prostitute.

Clothes at the time of murder: Last seen wearing a linsey frock and a red shawl pulled around her shoulders; she always wore a spotlessly clean white apron.

Resting place: St Patrick's Roman Catholic Cemetery, Leytonstone.

~ ~ ~

Catherine ‘Rose’ Mylett

Birth date: December 8,1859 Attacked and murdered (age): December 20, 1888 (29)

Complexion: ? Eyes colour: ? Hair colour: ? Height: 5'2" (157 cm) Ocupation: Casual prostitute

Clothes at the time of murder: a brown and black 'outer clothes'; a dark tweed jacket; a lilac apron; a red flannel petticoat; a red and blue striped stockings.

Resting place: Bow Cemetery.

~ ~ ~

Elizabeth Jackson

Birth date: March 18, 1865 Murdered and found (age): Ca. June 3rd 1889, June 5th 1889 (24)

Complexion: Fair skin Eyes colour: ? Hair colour: Sandy, light red or auburn Height: ca. 5′ 5″ (165 cm) Ocupation: Domestic servant

Clothes at the time of murder: A long ulster coat, dark skirt, white underclothes, ?

Resting place: ?

---

Alice Pitts McKenzie

Birth date: c. 1849 Attacked and murdered (age): July 17, 1889 (39)

Complexion: Freckle-faced Eyes colour: Brown Hair colour: Brown Height: 5′4″ (163 cm) Ocupation: Washerwoman and charwoman

Clothes at the time of murder: A black coat; a black skirt; ?

Resting place: Plaistow Cemetery, Bromley.

~ ~ ~

Lydia Hart (?, Pinchin Srteet Murder)

Birth date: ? Attacked: ? Murdered (age): ? Found: September 10, 1889

Complexion: ? Eyes colour: ? Hair colour: ? Height: ? Ocupation: Factory worker, prostitute

Clothes at the time of murder: ?

Resting place: East London Crematorium & Cemetery, Plaistow.

~ ~ ~

Frances ‘Carroty Nell’ Coles

Birth date: September 17,1859 Attacked and murdered (age): February 13, 1891 (32)

Complexion: Fair Eyes colour: Brown Hair colour: Dark Brown Height: 5′ (152 cm) Ocupation: trainee in the packing department of a soap and toiletries manufacturer, forewoman; powder packer; prostitute

Clothes at the time of murder: A second-hand black diagonal jacket, a black dress given by her sister that reached to her ankles, a black velvet ribbon around her neck, a new black bonnet trimmed with black velvet beads, her old bonnet pinned beneath her dress.

Resting place: East London Crematorium & Cemetery, Plaistow.

~ ~ ~

Check out our Victims page for more information.

If you have further information, please, don’t hesitate to contact me. thank you very much.

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