#Alexander having to be a gangster

[mightydyke]

I love when characters are defined by a role that they're thrown into. When they have to play a part in a narrative. Maybe initially we think that's all there was to them, until we realise that actually they're so much more than two dimensional.

[darkdemeter]

BY THEIR LEASH

— WANDA MAXIMOFF COLUMN

Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! Female Reader x Natasha Romanoff

—- gifs/images found on pinterest, credit to original posters -—

| A/N | DISCRETION |

Long overdue, finally knocking this one out before it gets retired to permanent draft status ughhhh... *proceeds to fall face first in tired raccoon*

Mafia stuff — mention of death — alcohol consumption (like a lot) — 18+ SMUT, MINORS DNI — Porn with plot? — lesbian sex — threesome — may be some grammar errors and such — slight bondage — little bit of muscle/stomach riding if you squint your eyes, turn your head that way... — I think that's it?

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| M-LIST | TAGLIST

@alexawynters @alyciaddict @simpforlizzie @literaturedog @maladaptive-daydreamz @mathxa @blackbirdv98

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  An expensive investment. A broad term to use for a werewolf broken in by the system at a young age. But it’s true. 

  Alexander Pierce, the finance manager and ringleader as a whole, did all he could to break you in, and to say he did is an understatement. He exceeded the limits you once believed you had and once you were ready, he put you out in the field to garner your reputation. 

You had no limits. Ruthless in your endeavour to complete whatever task was required of you, prepared to do whatever it took, your peers could only look at you with both fear and admiration. 

When all was said and done, you were given your collar, then sold through the underground hub for criminals: the black market. 

  That’s when you learnt in the span of the few minutes that the auction lasted for, that you were either a trophy to those of the higher class of crime, or a very wanted source of security and war. From black funding operators that had their hand in the military’s pit on the hunt for a war hound, to the gangster overlords who controlled territories in the differing states and countries, requiring some form of high end security, there was a very rapid increase in the price they were each willing to pay. 

  At a total of twenty-five million, your collar and services were sold to Mr. Tony Stark. From the sleek fit of a light grey, three piece suit and bright pink tie, Stark had a brighter outlook on the window of his underhand activities. He was the type that lounged back in the severity of his criminal dealings.

Unlike his fellow company who each wore darker palette suits of either navy blue or jet black. He stood out for sure as his auburn tinted glasses did little to hide the one question on his mind: Was his money well spent?

  Well, to say at the very least, you wouldn’t be here tonight if you weren’t worth every single cent he spent on you three years ago. 

  Thinking about the memory now, this is a different tone entirely. Dark and neon is how you remember the black market scene, stalls and cube stores with an assortment of supplies anyone in the business would need, whether that be for the amateurs - which were the usual target customers - or the smaller businesses which belonged to small cluster gangs. 

  The big time runners had designated storehouses to spare where they obtained their supplies, and ran other dealings and hand-offs in and out of private rooms in the clubs. 

  Here, the scene is warm, lavish and made for those who seek the comfort in living in marble halls and pristine white pillars, short cut grass and elaborate parties such as this one. 

“Shit, this party is awfully chipper for someone who died last week,” you huff, eyes scanning the crowd from the smooth, darkly polished bar, which you incidentally found very comfortable to lean back on when told for the hundredth time, “Just sit tight, just a little bit longer.” 

  You didn’t have the time nor patience to sit around getting older by the damn minute. Thankfully, Tony put his card behind the bar so that meant an endless river of drinks. Because you needed the alcohol. A lot. 

  Not a moment too late is your glass refilled with your refreshment. And not too soon after is it halfway downed.

  “Please, Y/N,” sighs Steve from your right side, arms folded over his chest, navy blue suit straining just a bit too tightly against his body, “have some respect for the Maximoff family. They lost their only male heir to a deal gone wrong. They need our support.”

Your shoulders rise with a particularly deep inhale before falling lax, you swirl the sliver of whiskey left in your glass and with a jerk of your wrist you finish it. Ice rattles in your glass as you shimmy it, indicating you need another refill and pronto. 

  “People live, people die. You cross someone and you get shot in the back. It happens.” 

  “He was gunned down in the streets with a fucking machine gun, Y/N. You consider that a mere shot in the back?”

  You shrug in response to Sam’s question with a pout of your bottom lip. “Pietro thought he was the shit. That’s what got him killed by Rumlow.” 

  Sam runs a hand over his face, now distressed by the lack of sincerity you show for the grieving family. “For fuck sake…”

  In the three years of your loyal work to the Stark family and those of his brotherhood - his allies - your colours shone through immensely to reveal a shining personality. Excluding the fact you’d become something of a playful rogue with the women. 

  You simply chalk it up to your animal magnetism. Something that leaves them wanting more whenever in the presence of your company.

  In fact, that was how Tony came to own unclaimed establishments and clubs in the boroughs, ones he wasn’t able to get his hands on before, but after he had you as a playable card in his hand, you provided club goers the relief of being harassed and drinks being spiked. Territorial take over schemes from rival gangs were second guessed when they saw you watching over the joint.

  The after hour visits for your libido were just the perks. But you left a lot of lustful and broken little hearts in the wake of your work. 

  For a werewolf, you were always assumed to be a means of security, and that much was true. Didn’t mean it excluded you from taking on other odd jobs for the families from time to time. Debt collection, assassinations, tailing and blackmail ops, the list is endless. 

  When Steve casts a hardened stare your way, you mockingly raise your hands up in surrender. 

  “Alright, I’ll offer my condolences to the heiress, but I ain’t weeping at her feet for her brother who got himself into that mess because he thought he was too big for his own shoes.”

  “Just behave yourself, alright? The last thing we need is the entirety of Europe at war with us.” You roll your eyes and salute the captain. “Yessir.”

  You bring the glass rim to your lips and draw a small gulpful of your renewed liquor, the fiery taste rolls over your tongue, you savour it to keep your sanity intact lest you go insane from the waiting. Where was the heiress? 

  “Well, well, I thought I wouldn’t see any of you again. Especially you.” Your head, as well as those of your group, direct their gaze to the new voice. The corners of your lips twitch up and you flash her a wolfish grin, chin tilting up slightly in your relaxed position against the bar. You looked like a cat happily laying in the sun. 

  “Miss Romanoff,” each of the men greeted with a nod of their heads. You, however, pat your thigh as an invitation for her to sit. “I had work to do the next morning.”

  “Mm, that’s what you tell the other girls, I’m sure.” You clap a hand to your chest with a wince. “You wound me, sweetheart. If I had the chance, I would have stayed.” 

  She hums but it’s obvious she doesn’t believe you by the rise in her brow. 

  Natasha Romamoff is a hard fish to catch. One of the more established families that control practically the entirety of Europe, alongside the Maximoff family, the two were partners and crafting an empire strong enough to stand on their own without any dire need for support. 

  Yes, her family had prior dealings with the brotherhood. The Starks, Wilsons, Barnes and Rogers and more, whether to collaborate on a bigger criminal project to the smaller portioned deals. Smuggled goods and weapons, blackmail intel deliverance, international bribery to keep the feds off your backs.

  But she never committed to joining forces. 

  You suppose it’s a good power move on her part. She doesn’t have to abide by any of the family creeds, in the end, you’re all loose ends that may potentially be severed if need be. She had the ball in her court and the mysterious Maximoff heiress. 

  Even your animal magnetism wasn’t enough to charm her into joining forces with Stark and his powerhouse of families, but they were surely enough to charm her into a wild one night stand. 

But as you told her. You had work to do. And now she appears to spurn you with her eyes and cruel words, but still entertains your flirtatious advances and indulges the empty space of your thigh.

  For a well respected mob boss such as herself, she definitely liked to play it risky; dressing included. 

  Last you saw her, she was dressed in a more professional manner. But here at this funeral party, whatever the fuck it was, she chose to wear a black, spaghetti strap cocktail dress that’s short enough to be skimming the mid of her thigh. The slit riding the dress up higher is just plain dangerous. 

  She’s facing you, back arched and arse resting on the cliff of your knee. Your clawed hand supports her at the small of her back. Her perfume is strong and complimenting, a sweet bouquet of lavender which rolls over the exposed tops of her breasts from her even more exposed neck. Her plump, red lips move in a way that’s hypnotic. “So I hear you’re going to be a bargaining chip for Wanda Maximoff.”

  “Where’d you hear that?” you scoff with a flick of your chin. 

  “I have spies who whisper to me,” she answers with a swift quirk of her brow. 

  Of course she overheard the news. She then chuckles softly, and all eyes watch her with a level of suspicion. “She won’t take any deal you offer her. She’s determined to steer clear of your little gang wars over in the states.”

  “Rumlow killed her brother and he has bases around our territories. Wouldn’t she appreciate the extra hands in catching the rat?” Bucky poses the question with a dark brow angled high and clenched jaw, the muscles in his cheeks flex harder when Natasha offers no affirmative response; a mark to hopefully land you in the door and good graces with the heiress. 

  “You really think she wants a guard dog?” 

  “Hey,” you growl with a wrinkle of your nose, fangs on the precipice of baring at her. How she used the term in a condescending manner made the fur beneath your skin bristle. Sam claps a hand to your shoulder, somehow able to sense the seething anger within you. 

  “We just want to help. Offer support for her loss and bring Rumlow down.”

  “No. You want a foothold in Europe. And I’m sorry but…” She looks you up and down, drinking in the sight of you and you know she can see you without your clothes on. “You’re not going to cut it, babe.”

  She turns her body to make her getaway but you don’t let her slip away just like that. She gasps and looks to you with a furrowed glare when your arm circles her waist and tugs her back until she’s flush against you, the men in your company watch with trepidation of your next course of action.

  “I will cut it because whether she wants to admit it or not, she needs us.”

  Natasha’s eyes, true to her fashion, darken with a challenge. “You’re wasting your time. She’ll get Rumlow herself.”

  “And if Rumlow plans to get her first?” For a moment you see the doubt cross her face. “That’s where she needs me.”

  “Tony Stark.” Each of the men turn to the voice behind them and their once cool and collected selves turn rigid, nervous under the power one woman can hold so absolute, her green eyes scan each of their faces before they land on you. 

  You finally look and meet her stare, still holding Natasha against you even as she tries to push away from you. 

  “Unhand her,” the woman commands with an accented tongue. 

  At first, you wanted nothing more than to play this out a little, see what makes this woman tick. But both Tony and Steve look at you, silent in their order, you sigh heavily and release Natasha. Once you do, she wastes no time in joining Wanda’s side with a bow of her head. 

  “I hear that you wished to have an audience with me.” 

  Wanda is the sole survivor of this ordeal. Her parents were assassinated two years ago and now her brother was killed. This is the stressed matter at hand, her empire could crumble to the ground, all that hard work put into the grave because she’s being so fucking stubborn with this deal.

  “I will not sign my family, nor any of my shares, to Stark Industries. Enough have I done to keep you out of the hands of law enforcement. I will handle Rumlow myself.”

  This isn’t how any of you hoped this would go. The grief has made her stronger than before. It wasn’t exactly you were waiting for the chance for her to have a weak spot and try your luck, but you all had thought she might even be at least a little desperate for extra help. 

  Natasha’s face says it all: I told you so. You can only roll your eyes and resume with what you’re doing. Refilling your empty glass with more liquor. You’ve yet to scratch the surface of being tipsy. 

  “Miss Maximoff, we only wish to help you. All we ask in return is that you grant us some territory to work with for our trade deals as payment, for support lent to you to catch Rumlow.” Steve is calm in his approach to reason with her, but if anything, her raised hand indicates her refusal, unswayed by the honey of his words. Your tongue rolls the rounds of your mouth, each time measured by your impatience as you slowly circle around the dealings table, unable to find yourself comfortable against the stiffened wood of your seat. 

  “You do realise that you’re asking for more than your so-called ‘support’ is actually worth.” You blink several times, the blow of it a downright attack on their egos. 

  “No, I want something more.”

  “And I want alcohol to affect me so I can sleep well at night,” you mutter to the glassy rim against your bottom lip. Wanda’s eyes flicker to you, bearing down a sinister glare. “Excuse me?”

  “And we were just about to suggest that very thing!” Tony interjects with a grin, eager to utilise his card, his Ace Wolf as he liked to call you. He gestures to where you stand now at the table’s other end.

  She directs her eyes to look you up and down slowly, gaze polished with keen observation. She hums thoughtfully before she looks to Natasha. 

  “E atât de bună?”

  The red haired chuckles and sitting back in her chair, chest heaving with a breathy sigh, she nods. 

  “Exceptional de bun. Cu o limbă ca asta…”

  Bucky shifts in his seat, a hollow whistle on his lips over the exchange of heated words, and you flash a grin at both women. The words of foreign tongue, however, pass over the heads of the other men, their eyes looking to either you or Bucky only to be answered with a shrug, but knowing that look in your eyes, they can take a good guess as to what’s being discussed. 

  With another passing frame of time, both women pull away from their engrossed conversation. “I’ve been made aware that you intend to bargain your wolf to me,” she says, once again letting her sight fall on you. 

  “And if that is the case, and what I have been told…” She trails off momentarily, finding to correct herself in the midst of something you can smell very clearly on her - or rather between her legs. “Then I’ll accept.”

  Each man present in the room is given pause to revel in the stun before them. Wanda Maximoff, the heiress of Europe’s biggest family, accepts their deal. All at the price of you. 

“You’ll have your answer by tomorrow, Mr Stark,” Wanda says, standing from her chair, she beckons you to follow with a kink of her fingers. One by one and following in unison, their eyes turn to you as you shuffle back on your heel with shrug your shoulders and fanged grin.

  “Animal magnetism, boys.”

  Wanda’s heels bound a steady beat as she wanders over to the foot of her bed, making an elegant show of swaying her hips and drawing your attention to her form. From behind, Natasha slips the dark suit jacket from your shoulders. Tosing it aside, her hands play the form of an enchanting guide, ushering you forward while tracing the hidden curves of your muscles. 

  “As per courtesy, Miss Maximoff wants the first claim.” 

  You huff in reply, “And you?”

  Natasha hums softly and plucks your belt loose from your trousers. “I have you two, I won’t go unsatisfied tonight.”

  Tilting your head to view Wanda who stands idle, fingers playing with the lining of her dress above her breasts, you stalk towards her, her back arching under your touch with a breathless whimper, you trail the zip of her gown down slowly. Falling around her ankles as a fabricated halo, she turns suddenly and your lips collide together in hunger.

  She sinks down to the bed, laying back until her hair fans around her, spreading her legs apart. That feverish hunger boils within your blood, running it hold and thick, the fur beneath your skin bristled in your excitement as you take care to roll the sleeves of your skirt to your elbows. To your knees, you’re brought to the sight of her soaked underwear, the dark patch evidently giving away just how badly she required you between her quivering thighs. Natasha’s hands rake through the length of your hair and scratches at your scalp, earning a low purr of pleasure to rumble in your chest. 

You lean forward and all it takes is a single inhale and you’re let loose of your chain of control, claws shearing the fabric that dares to confine her awaiting cunt any longer. She gasps upon contact, your lips smothering her moistened, slick lips and she gives a deep-noted moan, arching her hips up, your hands wrap around her thighs to drag her to you more. 

 She tastes like the fine wines of heaven, a forbidden savour on the tongue that which you greedily lap, your eyes close as you succumb to the wolf’s hunger, tongue lapping heavily at her clit.

  She whines and cries, breath hot and light in her lungs as her nails rip into the sheets to no damaging avail.  Natasha hovers above, watching on in her own longing and desire. She dips a hand beneath the hem of her dress, aside she pushes her own soaked panties and delicately dances her fingers over the sensitive bulb with a keening breath you hear catch in her throat. 

  Natasha leans down low until the scape of her breasts brushes against your shoulder blade, lips a tantalising thing and moving sinfully to mouth, “I’m touching myself to you.”

  “Watching you please her is making me so wet, Wolf.”

  “Make us both cum.”

  You growl deeply and Wanda’s body visibly shudders in response to the wild vibrations that course through her abdomen, shaking her whole and off centre, her hips begin to jerk as she nears her climax. Both women mingle in their euphoria and your own core comes to life, sparked by the noises they make in unison, an orchestra of pleasure. Suckling and licking at her core, she cries out and the lips of her pussy shrink around absence and she sighs in bliss. In tandem, Natasha moans loudly from behind and you feel her body press against you as her hand works hard as fucking her fingers into her cunt, the sound of slick and skin melding together addicting.

  “You weren’t… kidding, Nat,” she says between laboured breaths. 

  Slowing your advances, you finally pull away with a sigh, her juices glistening on your lips. Wanda looks at you and her cheeks flush at the sight before Natasha’s other hand forces your attention to her. Her lips connect with yours and her tongue darts over the bottom of yours, tasting Wanda with a delicious sound that you swallow. 

  After she pulls from you, she then shares a look with Wanda and the two of them grin. “Shall we reward her?” 

  “I think she’s been a girl.”

  Oh, how the wolf loves that. Praise for a job well done you can hardly suppress your proud smirk. Buu before you can do much else, Natasha pushes you and your knees are knocked out from beneath you, Wanda having rolled to the side only to follow Natasha’s lead as they both halfway straddle you, otherwise keeping you pinned to the mattress below. 

  Together they peel away your dress pants, giggling and muttering to one another in that alluring tongue, your mind in a haze to catch barely a sentence shared between them but you gained awareness of what they intended when they each stroked their tongues over your stimulated pearl. 

  “‘Sh–shit!” you hiss sharply and your hips buck, the two women giggling at the sight of you writhing. 

  They give no further warning as they duck down. Their mouths work together against your clit, suckling it to draw pathetic whines from that deep part inside you dare not let anyone see, their voices trespass the air with betraying praises that speak only of teases and their tongues lap at the slick of your pussy that clenches at the attention. Your hands grapple the sheets and tear hard, the damage unnoted and not cared for. 

  “Girls– fuck!” you groan at the rise in your core, oh so ready to reach that climactic end that you have been denied for the past several weeks. It’s not too long that your first release has you whining, the nois a higher pitched sound that does slowly in broken notes as you cum, the girls moaning and allowing their lips to graze one another as they lapped and sucked you. 

  Wanda is the first to make eye contact and move towards you, her leg swoops over to fully straddle your stomach, in her hands is your belt. She rips the centre of your shirt apart, buttons flying to discarded corners of the room to be mere pebbles of disregard.

  You see the way her eyes drink in the sight of your toned muscles, the pinky tip of her tongue darting over her wet lips. 

  She adores the way you tilt your head to the side, a curious whine on your lips. “I’ve always wanted something on a leash. May I?”

  You don’t particularly care for the way her question hits a mark submerged deeper into your heart, reaching for something you denied was there. Dignity. Usually people just took from you and you came to accept that. Expect it. 

  You nod up at her and she fixes the belt around the column of your neck, the leather cool against the blazing heat of your skin, but something inside you flutters. Quickly, you push it down. 

  Natasha moves into the same position behind Wanda, your larger size very much able to accommodate both of them, Natasha trails light kisses along Wanda’s shoulder as she fastens the belt and gives an experimental tug. A soft grunt kitchen in your throat in retort and you flash her a grin, the sharpened points of your fangs perched against your bottom lip. 

  “The wolf never let me tame her, Miss Maximoff.”

  “Oh, she just needed some reassurance,”Wanda replies gently with a smile. For a moment, you wanted to believe her words were sincere. Your hands run along Wanda’s thighs until they reach her hips and with a roll forward, she grinds her pussy against your torso, feeling the defined muscles press and tense against her, bringing her to moan under her breath. Natasha drapes a hand over your own to roll and pinch Wanda’s swollen clit, her eyes finding yours.

  “Watch her,” she commands breathlessly and you do so, amber glows in fluorescent pulses as Wanda biomes slick with her arousal. The fine artistry of their bodies moving together as they roll and grind against you, you cannot help but reach a hand up, claw catching the thin silk of Wanda’s bra and severing the contraption into two, letting it fall and reveal her plump breasts; her nipples erect. 

  Wanda circles an arm behind her and behind Natasha’s head, her back arching to the pleasure she becomes lost in, and you purely enjoy the show above, admiring the glow of sweat collecting on their skin, groaning as their slick covers your stomach as they ride you. The hand working Wanda’s clit speeds up and then slows, teasing the heiress, she gives you a sly grin. 

  “Do that thing with the claws,” she says and Wanda’s eyes open, as if awakening from her bliss and becoming enlightened with wonderment. 

  “W-what thing?”

  “I’ll show you.”

  You sit by the bed, elbow propped up on the chair’s arm with a glass in your grasp, imagination lost in the reverie of last night’s events with a smirk carved into your mouth. Both women lay wrapped together, bodies nude and pressed up to each other as they continue to sleep. You surely tired them out. 

  Thankfully and mostly dressed whenTony came wandering in, the band of his fellow brothers staying just beyond the room’s threshold, though it still didn’t make to hide the snarl creeping up your throat as the sudden intrusion. You take a sip of your drink as Tony scans the room, gaze flickering between the two women and you who bares an illuminated glare at him.

  “What the hell happened last night?”

  “We got her affirmative answer on the deal,” you answer with a raise of your glass in cheers before downing the last of your drink.

[wntrs0ldier]

An Offer · part 01

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 3,4k warnings: language, typical mafia themes, men talking, a/n: english is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes!

next part> | series masterlist

series summary: When your father dies, the only thing you can do for your family and the empire he built, is to marry a powerful man.

chapter sneak peek: At first he looked directly into your eyes, but soon his stare carefully slid lower. The muscles of his face highlighted as he clenched his jaw, something raw appeared in his eyes. You also glanced down at yourself and stumbled at how your body reacted to the cold and the undeniable electricity hanging in the air. It spread only between you and Bucky.

When your father died, you only had time to fit all the stages of grief into one brief episode of momentary shock, then your thoughts revolved solely around the future of the Family. Besides your mother and younger sister, you had to take care of business. And even though you understood the rules of the dark world you grew up in, no one had ever explained to you what decisions you should make to prevent the empire your father had created from crumbling. 

The warm rays of the setting sun were breaking through between the gravestones. You had to admit that the sun made everything a little better. Ironically, everything around you seemed to be coming to life; the greening grass, the budding leaves on the trees, the birds singing somewhere in the background. Even the slight rain didn't seem so bothersome when the sun was warming your skin and there was a crisp spring breeze in the air. 

You couldn’t focus on the ceremony, your thoughts were occupied by something else entirely. You were unable to ignore the fact that, as the minutes passed, your high heels were being swallowed up more and more by the mud. In all this sense of loss, which you had never experienced before, you felt sorry for a pair of shoes, even though you had hundreds of them. So instead of letting your emotions take over, you began to list some of the funeral attendees you managed to recognise.

You spotted some members of the Rumlow Family. Despite the generally accepted rule of temporary peace and immunity for any funeral, the sight of Rumlow Senior and his son made you a little uncomfortable. You knew that their presence in any other situation would have meant trouble. For as long as you could remember, your Families had lived in discord, and even if there had not yet been a major clash, their company carried the echo of a bomb ticking somewhere nearby.

A few rows away were representatives of the Russian mafia – Melina Vostokova, who stood at the head of the group, and Natasha Romanoff. 

You also saw Tony Stark – the biggest manufacturer of weapons, which your father helped distribute mainly on the black market. Tony himself claimed that he was not a gangster, but the truth was that he took the side that benefited him the most. No wonder he was the richest man in the United States. Or at least as far as you were aware.

Even state attorney Alexander Pierce showed up, which struck you as highly risky and simply stupid, but perhaps it was all about some twisted way of paying respect to a worthy rival. On the other hand – no matter how absurd it was – you wouldn't be surprised if it was John Walker, Pierce's nephew, who persuaded his uncle to attend the funeral. Walker had been looking for an opportunity to approach you for a long time; even now he was staring at you with a strange longing and an inappropriate dreaminess spreading across his face. You felt your skin itch as he stared at you like that, so you decided to look away in case John got the idea to take the initiative.

As discreetly as before, you looked a little further away. You weren't surprised by the presence of Timothy Barnes, the head of the Barnes Family, which not only lived in peace with yours; there were times when the paths of your Families would cross, so Timothy and your father occasionally visited each other to discuss the best strategy of action together. 

It was the company of his nephew that surprised you. Mainly because the presence of Bucky Barnes was an unusual occurrence – a few years ago he simply disappeared and no one really knew what was going on with him at the time. 

With much longer hair and a broader chest, he looked a little different than when you last saw him. And when you watched him from where you were standing you realised that he was staring at some indefinable point, and the hostility beaming from his eyes made you shudder; even if it wasn't directed at you.

You followed his gaze, wanting to know the poor man who had earned Bucky Barnes' cold, piercing stare, and you met Walker's eyes again. As John looked at you, Bucky observed him intently. 

You stayed close to your mother, but did not directly accompany her when condolences and respects were paid. Right next to you stood Michael – your father's trusted advisor and confidant.

“Look at that... How desperate they are,” he said quietly, leaning towards you. “Waiting to take over everything your father worked for.”

You blinked a few times, suddenly awakened by the interest in the man's words. You were, after all, supposed to somehow take care of all this, and what Michael had said complicated matters a lot. You didn't know how you could not only control the money, the power in the Family, the influence, the connections and the territories, but also keep it from the mentioned takeover. You were getting more and more confused.

“How would they do it..?” you asked hesitantly. 

“By marriage, certainly. Nobody wants a war,” Michael replied. Almost choking, you held your breath, an unpleasant knot, burning with anxiety, was tied in your stomach. “But don't worry about it,” he added calmly. “I'll try to get some suitable offer.”

Nibbling nervously on your lower lip, you glanced at your mother. You wished you had been a little more selfish and a lot more cruel – maybe then you would have focused completely on yourself. “Make sure they'll be safe. Mom and Suzie.”

Michael nodded obediently and walked away, leaving you alone with the impression that he had already begun searching for a candidate. But before that feeling could poison your consciousness completely, your mind picked up someone's presence. So you looked in front of you and, still confused by the subject brought up by Michael, fixed your gaze on Bucky Barnes, as it turned out. You frowned slightly, not quite sure why he was standing before you. In addition, alone; his uncle was talking to your mother.

“I'm sorry about your father,” he spoke, and there was something in his eyes that made you believe his words. 

“Thank you,” you replied quietly, but with proper politeness. For some unknown reason, you wanted to move. Perhaps you intended to shake Bucky's hand, or perhaps you just needed to change position. Whatever that was, you shifted, but one of your shoes refused to come off the ground. “Oh, this fucking mud…” you whimpered in helplessness rather than irritation.

Bucky immediately came to the rescue in this unusually absurd situation; he crouched down, and you felt the fingers of his warm hand wrap around your bare ankle. Aware that you wouldn't be able to free yourself from this ridiculous trap – at least not when your companion was throwing himself at your feet – you had to let Bucky handle it. Losing more control of your own legs, you leaned forward and involuntarily rested your hands on Bucky's shoulders. He didn't react; didn't frown, didn't give you an angry or confused look, didn't comment in any way. And you were really grateful to him for that, because you already had enough embarrassment. Though you couldn't complain about it at the moment – the unsolicited warmth spilling inside your stomach drowned out the rest of the emotions. 

Bucky tightened his grip around your ankle even harder – although you couldn't call the sensation painful or at least uncomfortable – and pulled it upwards in a firm motion, freeing your heel from the muddy ground.

“You alright?” He asked, and you hurriedly nodded in response.

You were too busy setting your foot in some safer place to remember to move away from Bucky. So once he straightened up, your hands were still on his shoulders. But he didn't do anything about it this time either. In the most literal sense, Bucky Barnes let you find support in him. As soon as you realised this, you immediately took your hands away and nervously smoothed your dress, only to have them occupied by something other than Bucky's shoulders.

Bucky clasped his hands together in front of him, wrapping the fingers of one hand around the wrist of the other. You couldn't look him in the eyes any longer; especially as his stare was somehow overwhelming. He nodded as if he were someone at your service, and you – too embarrassed by the event from a moment ago, stunned by the sudden, unexpected contact with Bucky Barnes and simply dazed by the atmosphere of the funeral – timidly followed him with your gaze until he disappeared into the crowd. 

Even though he vanished from your sight, you could still feel his burning touch around your ankle.

It was late. Far too late for any social gatherings, but Michael announced briefly that you were expecting guests. He seemed to be in such a hurry that you didn't want to waste time on getting ready either. You had only had time to comb your hair when a maid sent by Michael peeked into your bedroom. You didn't pay much attention to the fact that you were only wearing a short satin nightgown. All you could think about was Michael's nervousness; you wondered what it could have meant and how bad a situation you were possibly in. 

As you left the bedroom, you wrapped yourself tightly in the robe that was part of the set - just as short and satiny as your pyjamas. Before you had completely made it downstairs, you noticed two men not far from the front door. The prevailing coldness indicated that they had only just entered. You hesitantly stepped down from the last stair and headed forward. Recognising Timothy and Bucky Barnes, you immediately stopped. In your first instinct of learned politeness, you tried to give proper attention to the older one, but you couldn't help the way that every molecule in your body, pushed by natural curiosity, was drawn to Timothy's nephew.

Unlike his uncle, Bucky was not wearing a long coat but a leather jacket. Exposed to the pouring rain outside, it glistened in places. You raised your gaze to look at his damp hair, but before you got there, you noticed that he was watching you too. At first he looked directly into your eyes, but soon his stare carefully slid lower. The muscles of his face highlighted as he clenched his jaw, something raw appeared in his eyes. You also glanced down at yourself and stumbled at how your body reacted to the cold and the undeniable electricity hanging in the air. It spread only between you and Bucky.

“Gentlemen,” Michael said. An obvious tension in his voice reminded you that something was wrong. “Please.” He leaned meaningfully towards the dining room. “Miss Y/N should be here in a moment.”

“She already is,” Timothy shared his observation, a sly smile stretching out his mouth. Michael only then noticed your presence.

A silver tray with a couple bottles of alcohol – the only acceptable treat at this hour and on this occasion - was placed on the long dining table, along with glasses. 

You adjusted your robe precautiously and took a seat, facing your guests. Michael sat right next to you, completing the impression of the formation of two camps separated by a table.

“I'm beginning to hear rumors that Brock Rumlow has made you an offer,” Timothy spoke, the expression on his face indicated that he wasn't surprised in any way.

“An offer..?” You repeated, holding back the urge to give Michael a disapproving look. He should have told you. 

“On your hand in marriage, of course.” 

‘Marriage’ combined with ‘Brock Rumlow’ made a mixture so disturbing and explosive that you felt the blast in your gut. As if someone kicked you in the stomach. You should have guessed what the ‘offer’ meant, on the other hand you hoped Michael would mention it as soon as it came up. But you didn't expect Rumlow to make a move so quickly.

“This worry does not concern you, I am afraid,” Michael claimed.

Timothy leaned back in his chair and looked at the man with a slightly dismissive look. “We had a good relationship. Freddie and I. We advised each other on many occasions so that our decisions wouldn't endanger our Families,” he said. “So yes, this worry does concern us. And I'm curious to see what you decide.”

You glanced surreptitiously at Bucky, as if you needed reassurance that he was still sitting there, but you sensed he was around even without that. He held his eyes on you as you watched him with evident confusion, then reached for one of the bottles standing nearby. He took a quick look at the label, then poured some of the rusty-red liquid into a glass and slid it over to you. Did he think you needed alcohol to process what you were about to hear?

“Brock Rumlow isn’t the worst thing that can happen to her,” Michael said calmly. “You know how powerful the Rumlow Family is. And making peace with such a strong enemy would make our business, as well as yours, easier. I suppose I don't have to explain it to you.”

“Do you think this is what Freddie would want for his daughter?” Timothy asked.

“Freddie got himself killed,” Michael snapped, the atmosphere at the table became even thicker. “And as for his daughter, he didn't prepare her properly. He was a fool if he thought it would never happen.” 

There was silence. You looked down at the glass wrapped tightly by your fingers, and finally decided to raise it to your lips. It wasn't the nasty, bitter taste of the drink that bothered you, but the thought of your future. You were pretty sure that your fate had already been decided. 

“If you make an agreement with Rumlow, sooner or later he will violate, if not break, all its points,” Bucky spoke up, drawing everyone's attention. “He made the offer less than twenty-four hours after the funeral,” he pointed out. “Not to mention he only showed up to steer you towards positive consideration,” he said casually, and you thought that such diplomacy was clashing with his wet leather jacket and stubble. 

“James…” Michael sighed.

It seemed, however, that Bucky was not going to let go. “You know what this deal is about,” he continued with a strange, surprising resolve, as if the matter affected him personally. “Do you honestly believe Brock Rumlow will hold up his part of the deal? Did you forget his relationship with women or are you just going to overlook it?” he sneered. 

“You know surprisingly much about these agreements.” Michael no longer concealed his irritation. 

“I can marry Brock,” you finally spoke up, and this time they all looked at you. Michael was relieved, Timothy concerned in some way, and Bucky appeared to be a little lost since you seemed to ignore everything he just said. “It’s not like I have to live with him. Right..?”

Bucky clenched his jaw and looked angrily at Michael. “You didn’t tell her.”

“I haven't had a chance. You admitted yourself that they were quick to make an offer,” Michael defended himself. Bending under the pressure Bucky was putting on him, Michael looked at you nervously. “Rumlow Senior has the right to claim an heir who will take over both of the Families in the future. In this case… it is possible that you will have to live with Brock after all.”

These words flooded your mind, almost making you dizzy. You grabbed your glass again and poured the rest of the alcohol down your throat to fight the nausea. 

“Well…” Lips pursed, you took a deep breath through your nose. “This complicates things… a little.”

“I will arrange a meeting and everything will be clear,” Michael said after a moment of uncomfortable silence. “We are not sure what they think about all this. No matter what is said about Brock,” he glanced at Bucky not accidentally. “we should meet with him.”

“Great,” Bucky snorted. “I’ll be there.”

“Excuse me..?”

“Since our decisions affect our Families…” Bucky recalled his uncle's earlier words. “It’s obvious that Y/N doesn't know enough about arranged marriages, so I’ll be there. As an adviser.” He shrugged. “You are more than happy to team up with the Rumlows, and I will try to cool that enthusiasm.” He tilted his head, smiling insincerely. 

“If that's how you see it, it's more a case for your uncle,” Michael protested.

They both looked at Timothy, and his lips stretched slowly in a mysterious grin.

“I believe Buck can handle it,” he said. 

The meeting was over. You decided to accompany Michael to see the guests off.

Michael walked beside Timothy, who was walking to his car; they were discussing something that didn't exactly reach your ears, but you didn't feel the need to know. You weren't concerned that they were discussing your future - you doubted they felt like it after the conversation at the table.

“Bucky?” You started in a soft tone. Bucky, who had just left your house with the intention of joining Timothy, stopped and looked at you. You walked down a few steps and stood on the stone path, right in front of him.

He swept his gaze over you again, starting from your bare feet, through your exposed legs, to the delicate material of your nightgown. His stare didn't make you sick as the thought of Brock did. 

Bucky took a step towards you, and the scent of fresh laundry, mint and wet forest hit you. You stepped back, so he did it again until you were standing under the canopy that protected you from the rain.

“Do you always have to get some poor girl out of trouble?” You squinted, but couldn't help an amused smile forming on your lips.

“No. Just you.” He shrugged, slipping his hands in the jacket pockets. “I don’t want you to get cold. That’s all.”

“You don’t want me to get cold.” You nodded. “Just like you didn’t want me to drown in the mud. And now you don’t want me to marry Brock,” you pointed out, raising your eyebrows. “Why? Because Michael is right; joining our Families together would be the best option. You don’t want that?”

“The best option?” he repeated. “For everyone except you?”

You smiled softly in response – you didn’t feel like thinking about that again. “So? What’s the reason?”

Bucky looked away for a second, took a deep breath and shook his head. “Maybe my heart is in the right place. Maybe I want to do some good.”

You watched him expectantly, finally raised your eyebrows in theatrical disbelief and both of you laughed briefly. No matter how curious you were about the real reason, you decided not to badger him.

“Hey, what’s the deal with Walker?” Bucky asked playfully, frowning.

“Walker? John Walker..?” You let out a nervous chuckle. “Why?”

“I saw the way he looked at you. You can be sure he’ll make an offer, too.”

You wanted to laugh at his words, but the truth was Bucky could be right. And the thought of that made you more exhausted than you already were. “What about you?” you asked casually. You didn't beg for anything, you didn't offer anything. You were just curious. “You're not part of this?”

For a split second you witnessed him tense up. He clenched his hands, only to relax them immediately afterwards – just like his jaw muscles. You didn't understand the source of this reaction, but you didn't even think about it; it was like a brief flash that you didn't have time to think about properly.

“I may have my heart in the right place, but I'm not a guy you marry,” he said. “Steve is. I can put in a good word for you if you want,” he added jokingly, making you smirk. “Get back inside, Y/N,” Bucky commanded softly as he began to leave, taking a couple steps backwards. 

You rolled your eyes, and he turned his back to you, then got in the car, leaving you with that burning feeling again. This time it wasn't just limited to your ankle, but your whole body.

[lookismstuff]

Reaction to Ep 464

SPOILERS ALERT

In this episode, we finally discover how Jinyoung Park's drug works: two obsessions came to the forefront of three different, bitter scenarios among old friends.

Zack was left baffled as Johan completely ignored his calls and his intentions to help him and salvage whatever left of this damaged friendship.

Yisoo told him that no pleading would work, since Johan was drugged to oblivion and rage.

The only way out for Zack was to knock Johan out. Zack had his moments of doubts, but Gongseob's beastly training took over and he landed a critical hit on Johan...

...which unfortunately fueled Johan's drug-induced fury because Zack's powerful punch reminded him too strongly of Gun, the enemy that the drug made his mind focus on.

Meanwhile, with Vin completely beaten unconscious, Jake challenged Taejin. Taejin refused, however, and hinted that someone else somewhere was waiting for Jake, and he only cheered for "the son of Gapryong Kim".

Taejin's words worked wonders, because Jake was shocked as he realized that Taejin was talking about... Samuel.

When Jake finally found Samuel, the latter had beaten Alexander to unconsciousness while repeating the name of Gapryong Kim.

All that the cute ex Workers Fourth Affiliate director wanted was to mend his friendship with Samuel, but in Samuel's drug-addled mind, Alexander was his disappointing biological father.

Jake said while looking completely cool in the merch that Allied designed that it was not cool for Samuel to hurt Alexander like that.

After all, Jake asked, wasn't he the only son of Gapryong's since he had no other son of Jake's age? Didn't Samuel say that his own father was a gangster too? Yet was the man actually an AC technician?

But those last words were the final blow for drugged Samuel. And he decided that Jake must be executed on the spot. And here comes Samuel looking like he was a character in the horror film Suspiria.

Overall, the episode offers no new surprises but provides what readers have been waiting for: for Jake to finally discover the root of Samuel's insecurities and for Zack to see the long hateful obsession for Gun that Johan had been concealing.

[themculibrary]

Crimes & Criminals Masterlist

Ain't Nobody's Business If I Do (ao3) - copperbadge steve/tony, pepper/natasha M, 38k

Summary: The year is 1930, Prohibition and the Depression are both in full swing, and Chicago Police Detective Steve Rogers has his hands full. There's a dead body on the banks of Lake Michigan, the entire city's legal system is corrupt, and the king gangster of the North Side, Tony Stark, has taken more than a passing interest in him.

Being In His Possession (ao3) - valiantlybold steve/bucky E, 52k

Summary: James Buchanan Barnes is nineteen years old, and he is about to make what might be the worst decision of his short little life.

But little by little, he comes to like his new place of employment, as well as his employer. Well... Maybe a little more than just like.

Coulson's Eleven (ao3) - copperbadge pepper/tony T, 32k

Summary: After Vanko destroyed the Stark Expo, SHIELD instituted a Superhuman Detention program, designed to capture and hold dangerous people -- dangerous people like Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, and others who made themselves noticeable. The superhumans SHIELD has imprisoned -- and some SHIELD agents themselves -- have other ideas about what constitutes 'dangerous'...

Countdown (ao3) - ShesLikeTexas steve/tony, pepper/happy, bucky/natasha E, 96k

Summary: Mob Boss Steve Rogers kidnaps Tony Stark and gives him 365 days to fall in love with him.

During Business Hours: A Filthy Coffee Shop AU (ao3) - samanthahirr steve/bucky E, 25k

Summary: Unemployed artist Steve takes a job managing the worst coffee shop in Brooklyn, where the floors are greasy, the coffee beans have expired, the espresso machine’s been sabotaged, and the owners might be Russian Mafia. But the job comes with a few perks, like a generous paycheck, reasonable hours, and one super-hot customer whom Steve can’t resist having dirty, filthy, bad-idea sex with in the bathroom.

Steve is pretty sure this job is going to kill him. But what a way to go....

Fractals of a Criminal Mind (ao3) - STARSdidathing loki/tony, steve/bucky M, 132k

Summary: AU. Tony Stark is the Top Forensic Scientist at S.H.I.E.L.D. and possibly in the world - if he does say so himself - there’s only one person he’s come up against and can’t beat: international criminal mastermind Loki Laufeyson. He’s gotten close but Loki always has a lackey to throw in front of the blame. He’s completely untouchable and if Loki wasn’t his enemy than Tony would be marvelling at and adoring his genius. But Tony can’t, because he’s a good guy, he has morals and a duty to the public that he’s trying to protect. Loki Laufeyson, however, is equally fascinated and he doesn’t do anything other than what he wants. COMPLETE.

Guns Not Butter (ao3) - reserve steve/bucky, bucky/omc E, 10k

Summary: It's 1941. Bucky Barnes lives with his best friend Steve Rogers, and all Bucky wants is to do right by him.

That means he'll do anything.

Heat of the Night (ao3) - Kellyscams steve/bucky, natasha/sam, clint/natasha/sam, bucky/alexander M, 186k

Summary: Based on this prompt: Steve is a cop. Bucky is the kept boyfriend of the super rich bad guy. Bucky doesn’t really have any information because his sole job is to look good when they go out. But he gets Steve’s card and he calls him and Steve meets him for lunch and coffee and dinner and Steve knows this could be a bad thing. He knows Bucky could be a trap. But the way he talks, how he smiles at Steve, laughs like it’s a sound he’s not used to making...Steve thinks he could be worth it. Steve thinks he could be worth everything. (via tumblr user disappointme)

I'm Not In Love (ao3) - 74days steve/bucky T, 6k

Summary: James 'Bucky' Barnes is the Winter Soldier, head of the Romanov Family - a well connected mob boss and cold hearted killer. He's trying to have a good time at his birthday party when it's crashed by the NYPD. Or is it?

Keeper (ao3) - HepG2 steve/tony E, 81k

Summary: “Uh, I’m… very new to the whole thing,” Tony swallows visibly. He uncrosses his legs and grabs his cup again. “I looked at pictures. Research. They look graphic.” 

Tony Stark is a journalist hanging onto the last of his life lines. He needs new writing materials. Something that sells. Then the whole town is talking about a BDSM play gone wrong, and there it is. His story.   Steve chuckles again. Tony notices he hasn’t touched his drink. “No worries. It’s very unlikely for us to take it up to that level.

It takes two to tango.

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes (ao3) - SmolderingFlame steve/bucky E, 90k

Summary: Steve Rogers is the most dangerous man in Brooklyn. Bucky Barnes is the son of an abusive drunk who needs to pay off a serious gambling debt. Just so happens Steve has a thing for pretty brunettes with feisty attitudes.

The Captain (ao3) - arianapeterson19 steve/tony T, 1k

Summary: Tony was convinced that the men who had nabbed him off the street had the wrong guy; Tony didn't know any guy named the Captain. However, if the Captain wanted to show up and tell them that, Tony would really appreciate it.

OR

The one where Steve really should have told his boyfriend he was a mob boss BEFORE he was kidnapped.

The Secrets We Keep (ao3) - Us_Alive pepper/tony, ben/may N/R, 79k

Summary: “Who are all these people?” Pepper looked at the crowd forming around them.

Tony flashed his million-dollar smile that always made Pepper melt. “Don’t worry about them Pep, it’s just business.”

So, Pepper let it go. She shouldn’t have.

Pepper's life was perfect. Tony was the perfect husband, gentleman and he made her feel like the luckiest woman alive. It was everything she dreamed of.

But she soon finds out Tony's biggest secret. So she hides her biggest secret by running away. Problem is, Tony is not about to let her go.

The Ties That Bind Us (ao3) - Winterturtle pepper/tony T, 74k

Summary: Peter Parker is ordinary high school student, living alone in apartment in Queens. He doesn’t see his parents very often due to their work. However, his life turns upside-down when Tony Stark, the most feared and powerful man in New York, gives an order to kidnap him to use him as leverage against his parents to get one of his people back. Parker luck strikes in the worst possible moments, events from the past surface and secrets are revealed, changing everybody’s lives.

 Now Tony needs to learn how to be a dad. What will Peter do once he learns the truth of his true parentage?

Who Prays for The Devil? (ao3) - Bourneblack steve/bucky E, 79k

Summary: A mafia AU slams into a coffee shop AU, and out pops a cracky, fluffy, smutty, and angsty identity porn fic between son-of-a-mafia boss Bucky Barnes and clueless coffee shop owner Steve Rogers that takes a brief look into the bowels of the American healthcare system.

[everythingsf1ne23]

𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 |  𝘑𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘺 𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢 (𝘒𝘪𝘯)

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 💌:

@somethingblu3 said that they wanted to see more Jimmy fanfics and I agree so here’s a little Jimmy one shot, I hope you enjoy and please let me know your thoughts in the comments ~Jess

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 📝:

in which, loving someone you can’t have means moving away to get away from him and the Kinsella family (inspired by the song ‘See You Later’ by Alexander 23)

𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳’𝘴 𝘗𝘰𝘷:

I admit that I was surprised when Amanda told me that Jimmy decided to throw a going away party for me, little does they know that I’m only moving so I don’t have to look at them anymore.

But here I am, getting ready for this party, 

I look at myself in the mirror as I brush my hair and all I could see was sadness in my eyes, I look away and I tell myself that for tonight, I had to seem really happy.

I walk back into my bedroom to put my jewellery on so I put on a pearl necklace and bracelet, then I throw on my leather jacket, “Thank God, I’m finally ready” I say to myself even though I was running a bit late as I usually am unless I’m doing a job for the Kinsella family for those I’m always early. 

I lock my house and then I walk across the road to Amanda and Jimmy’s home, I knock on the front door.

I see someone coming to answer it through the door, it was Nikita, she greets me with a hug

“How are you?” Nikita asks me 

“I’m good, a bit upset about leaving tomorrow” 

I walk through Amanda and Jimmy’s house and into the kitchen, there’s a big cheer when they see me standing in the doorway

“Come in, there’s a seat in the middle for you” Jimmy ushers with a soft smile, I sit down and Birdy hands me a glass of champagne across the table 

“Thanks” I reply, and Birdy speaks up

“It’s so sad to see you go pet especially after everything you’ve done for us, with the jobs and all”

I sigh as I notice Amanda and Jimmy being all loved up at the end of the table, I like everyone else but they’re the reason why I’m leaving.

“Yeah but I think it’s about time, I’ve had enough of this whole gangster lifestyle”

Anthony gives me a confused look,

“How could you not like this lifestyle?”

“I mean you either end up in jail, on the run or in a grave so I’d much rather live my life freely without all that”

“That makes sense”

Then Michael turns to me,

“Where are you going again?” He questions,

“Rome in Italy” I respond excitedly which gains Amanda and Jimmy’s attention 

“It’s very hot there and I mean, do you even know Italian?” Amanda asks me

“I know and yeah I learnt it in school, 

I’m fluent in Italian” and then Jimmy speaks up

“Isn’t that where you went on holiday in the Summer?” 

“Yeah it sure is, I loved it and I’ve met a guy from there so I want to see how that goes” I reply and I see Jimmy clench his jaw in annoyance or was it jealousy? 

“Ooh what does he look like?” Nikita asks me

“Of course you’d wanna see that Nikki!” Viking rolls his eyes and I get a photo from my phone, I turn it around and Nikita gasps

“Oh my god, he’s gorgeous!”

A few hours later and I say goodbye to everyone, 

I’m feeling quite emotional so a few tears roll down my face, Birdy hugs me tightly

“Don’t be crying pet, we’ll see you tomorrow morning for a proper goodbye” 

They all begin to walk to their houses but Jimmy stays outside with me, I smoke one of my cigarettes and I offer him one, he takes it.

“I wish that you didn’t have to leave, you’re good company” he tells me,

“Yeah I don’t really wanna leave either but I want a few start away from Dublin and it’s gangland shite” 

“I understand that, I think a lot of us want out of it”

I feel myself crying again, Jimmy notices and hands me a tissue

“Thank you” I reply and I wipe away my tears

“You know I would leave Amanda for you”

My heart skips a beat and I look up at him,

“You wouldn’t do that, you’d be too scared to leave her” I say coldly 

“Too scared? Really? I’m scared of no one here”

“Yeah I’m sure you are” I respond with sarcasm in my voice

“Anyways I want someone who won’t treat me as their backup, their number two, I can’t do that with you anymore Jimmy, it hurts me and I’m sure that it would hurt Amanda even more”

“Please I’m begging you, I promise you that I would definitely leave her”

ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴍɪɴᴇ

ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴍɪɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏsᴇ

ɪᴛ's ɴᴏᴛ ɢᴏᴏᴅʙʏᴇ

'ᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ʜᴇʀ

sᴏ, ɪ sᴀʏ sᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ

“See you later” was all I said and I walk back across the road to my house. 

[ilovewhiteroses]

A few 'Justified: City Primeval' reviews have been released and here is what they say about Boyd's character, Clement Mansell:

- Here, the biggest complication comes in the form of Clement Mansell, a.k.a. "The Oklahoma Wildman," a grifter and killer who treats Detroit as his personal playground to let his psychotic tendencies run amok. Mansell is played by Boyd Holbrook and is the latest in a long line of Justified villains who have outsized personalities and enjoy running their mouths at least as much as they do causing mayhem. 

Holbrook has done a lot of good work lately (including playing a more fantastical villain in Netflix's The Sandman), but his turn as Mansell might be career-defining. He's a full-on maniac in this – singing his heart out to rock songs he blasts from the radios of cars he steals, prancing around his girlfriend's apartment in his tighty-whities, scratching his balls with a pistol, and enforcing his will on every mark or two-bit criminal that comes within his orbit. ("What am I doing?" he asks rhetorically at one point. "Whatever I want.") Of course, no one is going to completely match up with Walton Goggins' Boyd Crowder, Raylan's regular arch-nemesis from the original series, but Holbrook, who coincidentally also faces off against Indiana Jones this summer, comes closer to matching Goggins' energy than you might expect. He's riveting in every scene in which he appears, and City Primeval's biggest strength is the combustible dynamic between Mansell and Raylan.

https://collider.com/justified-city-primeval-review/

- It doesn’t take the Marshall long to set his sights on Clement Mansell (Boyd Holbrook), aka “The Oklahoma Wildman,” a thief and killer who recently blew back into town, shacking up with his cocktail waitress girlfriend Sandy (Adelaide Clemens) in order to swindle an Albanian gangster (Alexander Pobutsky) that she’s been seductively setting up as their next mark.Assuming the de facto Goggins role as the yin to Olyphant’s yang, Holbrook does the finest work of his career in Justified: City Primeval, exuding malevolent swagger (sometimes in nothing but a kimono and tighty-whities) and a droll sense of humor as a wannabe-rock ‘n’ roll singer-via-The Joker who does whatever he pleases, including kill with nonchalant impunity. Clement and Raylan routinely engage in conversations whose easygoing surface masks their pistol-blasting seriousness, and the show does an excellent job devising confrontations and dilemmas that put the duo at each other’s throats, both of them eager to have an O.K. Corral-style face-off but stymied by circumstance, the law, and Raylan’s yeoman’s efforts to not indulge his more vigilante impulses.

https://news.yahoo.com/justified-city-primeval-rekindles-everything-160000853.html

- His adversary is one Clement Mansell (Boyd Holbrook), a frosty Oklahoma psycho with roots in Detroit’s underworld and a thing for The White Stripes (this is, after all, Detroit). Soft-spoken and sadistic, he’s a slippery, implacable menace who knows all the legal angles — a spiritual cousin of Max Cady, the relentless stalker played by Robert Mitchum in the original “Cape Fear” (not to be confused with the over-the-top model played by Robert De Niro in the 1991 remake). Mansell has a crafty defense attorney (Aunjanue Ellis) and an old partner in crime (Vondie Curtis-Hall), both of whom are too terrified of their associate to make a move against him. He also has that judge’s little black book, littered with dirt on cops, robbers and all manner of city officials, all of whom he intends to bleed dry. His other scam du jour has his girlfriend (Adelaide Clemens), who moonlights at a local casino, reeling in a wealthy mark (Alexander Pobutsky). This proves complicated, as the mark is well connected in the Albanian mob.

https://www.thewrap.com/justified-reboot-city-primeval-review-fx-timothy-olyphant/

[teddybasmanov]

Actually, while we're deciding on a playlist, here's a romance that fits pretty much all three of my favourite Jim pairings - Felix/Agent A, Dimi/Malenkee and Elrick/human!listener (I need a name for them):

(And here's a partial version of the same song but the tone is quite different - I like both.)

It's about how even if your relationship is unconventional and may not be recognised by the society - I mean the first line/title is "We weren't married in a church" - you're still freely choosing them and they're real and important to you in part because of that freedom. It's also anecdotally Lenin's favourite romance song.

So, we have a couple of counter-intelligence officers who are loyal to their duty before everything else and who never could even meet each other with real papers; a gangster and his former potential target who go on the run together; and a newly appointed commissar and a former slave building a life and a country together - nothing conventional or universally recognised about any of these.

Translation of the first two strophes (those being sang in the shortened version):

We weren't married in a church,

Not in crowns, not with candles,

No hymns were sung to us,

No wedding ceremonies.

Midnight crowned us

In the middle of a dark forest,

There were witnesses -

Foggy sky and dim stars.

The wild wind sang

And the raven ominous,

Sang the wedding songs.

Stood as guards

Cliffs and abysses,

The bed was made by

Love and freedom

The bed was made by

Love and freedom.

[1001framesofmind]

I mustn't say who I am...

The film is based on the novel of the same name by Alexander Belyaev and tells the story of a young man named Ichthyander who has been surgically altered to have gills, allowing him to breathe underwater. Ichthyander falls in love with a beautiful girl named Gutiere, but their relationship is threatened by various obstacles, including a villainous gangster who wants to exploit Ichthyander's abilities for his own gain.

It is worth noting that the film was shot primarily in Crimea, a peninsula located on the northern coast of the Black Sea. The film crew took advantage of the picturesque landscapes and coastal settings of Crimea to bring the underwater world of Ichthyander to life. The stunning underwater scenes were shot in the Black Sea itself, adding to the authenticity and beauty of the film's visuals. The natural beauty of Crimea provided a perfect backdrop for the fantastical story of "Amphibian Man."

🎞film: Amphibian Man (1962) 🎬director: Alexander Belyaev 🟣🟣🟣🟣⚪️

[weerd1]

"Star Trek has gotten so goofy with comedy episodes and musicals."

Excuse me; I have a giant amoeba, Space Lincoln, and a transporter managing to pull out my good mood and bad mood into separate beings who would like to talk. Also an old west planet, a gangster planet, a Nazi planet, Jack the Ripper, and Alexander the Great.

[crymeariveronceagain]

KOTLC Characters' Halloween costumes: 2022 edition!!!

Holy crap, I've been on tumblr for over a year now!! Let's get some Halloween costumes going, because nobody wears the same outfit two years in a row, right? *kicks my own beloved witch costume out of sight*

Sophie Foster: 1920's gangster. She's always been one for suits and ties, and she looks stunning with the fedora on her head and her fake cigar in her teeth. She drinks her lushberry juice out of a wine glass and talks in a Brooklyn accent the whole night. No one knows what her accent's about, but no one can get her to stop. She has bright red lipstick on her teeth, halfway through the night, and her brown eyes sparkle. Her suspenders are super cute, though.

Keefe Sencen: Cereal Killer. You know exactly what I'm talking about, because that is not a typo. There is a cereal box, and there is red dye involved, and a fake knife. Keefe is loving it.

Fitz Vacker: Alexander The Great. He's got his hair messed up and his eyes look a little wild, but the historical accuracy is there, from the Macedonian armor to the spear he made himself. There are feathers tucked into the helmet he spent hours making, and his shield is carefully crafted to have a golden star right at the center. He's wearing gold and red and he looks every inch like a warrior king.

Biana Vacker: Cinderella. Her skirts are shimmery and blue and she's got her hair in long loose waves, butterfly clips in her hair, and she's smiling brightly, and she looks lovely. Oh, her slippers are made of crystals. She commissioned them and paid money for the trolls to carve her her shoes. They cost quite a chunk of change.

Tam Song: Prince Charming. He looks put together and like the prince he is. He and Biana went to the party together, and if you see Cinderella and Her prince dancing the night away to "Monster Mash" you're correct. That's what they're doing, tonight.

Linh Song: Sheet Ghost. With glasses over the top. It's really cute, and she giggles and her whole costume looks like it's shaking. She's just floating around, and it's really really sweet.

Marella Redek: Katara, from Avatar, The Last Airbender. It's about the IRONY, and the hair loopies that she spent three hours researching and braiding her hair so it's accurate. She put so much effort into this costume, and worked on this for weeks. She's put her heart and soul into this costume, and it looks like it. It's just a brilliant cosplay of the character, and you can tell that Marella had so much fun putting it together.

Dex Dizznee: Pirate. He's got an eye patch and a fantastic outfit that looks perfectly like he walked out of a book on pirates. He even burned the sleeves with gun powder, and dusted his cheek bones with red so it looks like he's got a sunburn. Good thing he's got so many freckles, it looks like he's been in the sun for months.

Stina Heks: Goth Witch. She's got her makeup dark and her dress jagged at the bottom. She's got spiderwebs embroidered across her sleeves, and her hat is pointed and embellished with flowers and a skull(sustainably sourced). She's got her lipstick dark and her hair curly and scattered and messy. She's grinning, brightly, and she looks like a creature of the night. It's lovely.

Maruca Chebota: An angler fish. She's got her dress done up in shimmery scales, attaches huge teeth to her face with makeup glue, and she fastens a glowing sort of shield in place at the end of her headpiece, and she looks amazing.

Wylie Endal: A lighthouse. All of his college friends screech in laughter when he walks in and there's a light moving around him like he's a real actual walking talking lighthouse who just walked in the room.

Glimmer Alenefar: Fintan Pyren. There was so much laughter. She even went on a dramatic speech in Fintan's voice!!!! Sophie is losing her mind over this, and Keefe has been laughing so hard he's now crying, especially when Glimmer says something along the lines of "I'VE ALWAYS LOVED YOU, WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE" or something like that. No one is ssafe from Glimmer Fintan. Not a single one of these kids is mentally healthy. But stars, if they aren't having a good time.

[ryder616]

in other news, I wasn't worried for Worf, not even for a second.

Mr. Matalas just made the top of my blacklist forever and ever (I'm kidding, of course, but also I'll never forgive him. Why would you blow up Ro when Captain Shaw is right there! 👿😭😭😭 ok, ok, I know why but damn it all 🤬😭😭😭😭), but no way in the galaxy he was ever going to kill off Worf in a knife fight with Raffi just to acquiesce some nobody gangster (played, if I'm not mistaken, by Kirk Acevedo, who played Agent Asshole Calderon in AoS S2). Besides, Klingons have redundant organs. Take that, logic boy.

I'm however quite worried about the repeated mentions of the sacrifices he has made, especially given how Picard, in the meantime, has found a son who atm doesn't feel like he's heading toward anything nice and just lost a mentee who I'm fairly sure saw him as a father figure.

I fear the chances that Alexander might at some point commiserate with Jack about absentee fathers have just gone down considerably.

It pleases me that Worf knew his handler was Ro, this means he also got past Ro's defection (and if there's one character who should understand how honor is not defined by duty and obedience to superiors, that would be Worf, Slayer of Gowron, don't you think?)

Anyway, I'm heartbroken, but I can't wait to watch the rest of the season. I've even warmed up to Captain Shaw (I still wish he had been on that shuttle, but realistically I would trade almost anyone's death for Ro's life) because he was heading to a routine exploratory mission, then Picard and Riker invited themselves on his ship and it's been hell ever since. Like, I feel him, I do.

[darkdemeter]

OLD DRAFT CONCEPT : " GUARD DOG "

—- not my gif, credit to original poster! -—

Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader (x slight Natasha Romanoff)

A/N — Here's a little bedtime story for ya'll. Old draft concept for an upcoming and looong oneshot for Wanda in a mafia au setting. Bits and pieces may be recognised in the published column plot wise but overall, we're taking an alternate route, my babbies.

WORD COUNT — 2.2k

READER DISCRETION — Alcohol consumption — mafia business and semi dark themes — profanity — mention of death and murder — mention of black market and auction — reader and Nat have some history — player reader Tony is so proud — Alexander Pierce is of course an arsehole, what else is new? — Rumlow is a bad guy (duh) — I think that's it?

An expensive investment. A broad term to use for a werewolf broken in by the system at a young age. But it’s true. 

Alexander Pierce, the finance manager and ringleader as a whole, did all he could to break you in, and to say he did is an understatement. He exceeded the limits you once believed you had and once you were ready, he put you out in the field to garner your reputation. 

You had no limits. Ruthless in your endeavour to complete whatever task was required of you, prepared to do whatever it took, your peers could only look at you with both fear and admiration. 

When all was said and done, you were given your collar, then sold through the underground hub for criminals: the black market. 

That’s when you learnt in the span of the few minutes that the auction lasted for, that you were either a trophy to those of the higher class of crime, or a very wanted source of security and war. From black funding operators that had their hand in the military’s pit on the hunt for a war hound, to the gangster overlords who controlled territories in the differing states and countries, requiring some form of high end security, there was a very rapid increase in the price they were each willing to pay. 

At a total of twenty-five million, your collar and services were sold to Mr. Tony Stark. From the sleek fit of a light grey, three piece suit and bright pink tie, Stark had a brighter outlook on the window of his underhand activities. He was the type that lounged back in the severity of his criminal dealings.

Unlike his fellow company who each wore darker palette suits of either navy blue or jet black. He stood out for sure as his auburn tinted glasses did little to hide the one question on his mind: Was his money well spent?

Well, to say at the very least, you wouldn’t be here tonight if you weren’t every single cent he spent on you three years ago. 

Thinking about the memory now, this is a different tone entirely. Dark and neon is how you remember the black market scene, stalls and cube stores with an assortment of supplies anyone in the business would need, whether that be for the amateurs - which were the usual target customers - or the smaller businesses which belonged to small cluster gangs. 

The big time runners had designated storehouses to spare where they obtained their supplies, and ran other dealings and hand-offs in and out of private rooms in the clubs. 

Here, the scene is warm, lavish and made for those who seek the comfort in living in marble halls and pristine white pillars, short cut grass and elaborate parties such as this one. 

“Shit, this party is awfully chipper for someone who died last week,” you huff, eyes scanning the crowd from the smooth, darkly polished bar, which you incidentally found very comfortable to lean back on when told for the hundredth time, “Just sit tight, just a little bit longer.” 

You didn’t have the time nor patience to sit around getting older by the damn minute. Thankfully, Tony put his card behind the bar so that meant an endless river of drinks. Because you needed the alcohol. A lot. 

Not a moment too late is your glass refilled with your refreshment.

“Please, Y/N,” sighs Steve from your right side, arms folded over his chest, navy blue suit straining just a bit too tightly against his body, “have some respect for the Maximoff family. They lost their only male heir to a deal gone wrong. They need our support.”

Your shoulders rise with a particular deep inhale before falling lax, you swirl the sliver of whiskey left in your glass and with a jerk of your wrist you finish it. Ice rattles in your glass as you shimmy it, indicating you need a refill and pronto. 

“People live, people die. You cross someone and you get shot in the back. It happens.” 

“He was gunned down in the streets with a fucking machine gun, Y/N. You consider that a mere oopsie?”

You shrug in response to Sam’s question with a pout of your bottom lip. “Pietro thought he was the shit. That’s what got him killed by Rumlow.” 

Sam runs a hand over his face, now distressed by the lack of sincerity you show for the grieving family. “For fuck sake…”

In the three years of your loyal work to the Stark family and those of his brotherhood - his allies - your colours shone through immensely to reveal a shining personality. Excluding the fact you’d become something of a playful rogue with the women. 

You simply chalk it up to your animal magnetism. Something that leaves them wanting more whenever in the presence of your company.

In fact, that was how Tony came to own unclaimed establishments and clubs in the boroughs, ones he wasn’t able to get his hands on before, but after he had you as a playable card in his fold, you provided club goers the relief of being harassed and drinks being spiked. Territorial take over schemes from rival gangs were second guessed when they saw you watching over the joint.

The after hour visits for your libido were just the perks. But you left a lot of lustful and broken little hearts in the wake of your work. 

For a werewolf, you were always assumed to be a means of security, and that much was true. Didn’t mean it excluded you from taking on other odd jobs for the families from time to time. Debt collection, assassinations, tailing and blackmail ops, the list is endless. 

When Steve casts a hardened stare your way and you mockingly raise your hands up in surrender. “Alright, I’ll offer my condolences to the heiress, but I ain’t weeping at her feet for her brother who got himself into that mess because he thought he was too big for his own shoes.”

“Just behave yourself, alright? The last thing we need is the entirety of Europe at war with us.” You roll your eyes and salute the captain. “Yessir.”

You bring the glass rim to your lips and draw a small gulpful of your refurbished liquor, the fiery taste rolls over your tongue, you savour it to keep your sanity intact lest you go insane from the waiting. Where was the heiress? 

“Well, well, I thought I wouldn’t see any of you again. Especially you.” Your head, as well as those of your group, direct their gaze to the new voice. The corners of your lips twitch up and you flash her a wolfish grin, chin tilting up slightly in your relaxed position against the bar. You looked like a cat happily laying in the sun. 

“Miss Romanoff,” each of the men greeted with a nod of their heads. You, however, pat your thigh as an invitation for her to sit. “I had work to do the next morning.”

“Mm, that’s what you tell the other girls, I’m sure.” You clap a hand to your chest with a wince. “You wound me, Sweetheart. If I had the chance, I would have stayed.” 

She hums but it’s obvious she doesn’t believe you by the rise in her brow. 

Natasha Romamoff is a hard fish to catch. One of the more established families that control practically the entirety of Europe, alongside the Maximoff family, the two were partners and crafting an empire strong enough to stand on their own without any dire need for support. 

Yes, her family had prior dealings with the brotherhood. The Starks, Wilsons, Barnes and Rogers and more, whether to collaborate on a bigger criminal project to the smaller portioned deals. Smuggled goods and weapons, blackmail intel deliverance, international bribery to keep the feds off your backs. But she never committed to joining forces. 

You suppose it’s a good power move on her part. She doesn’t have to abide by any of the family creeds, in the end, you’re all loose ends that may potentially be severed if need be. She had the ball in her court and the mysterious Maximoff heiress. 

Even your animal magnetism wasn’t enough to charm her into joining forces with Stark and his powerhouse of families, but they were surely enough to charm her into a wild one night stand. 

But as you told her. You had work to do. And now she appears to spurn you with her eyes and cruel words, but still entertains your flirtatious advances and indulges the empty space of your thigh.

For a well respected mob boss such as herself, she definitely liked to play it risky; dressing included. 

Last you saw her, she was dressed in a more professional manner. But here at this funeral party, whatever the fuck it was, she chose to wear a black, spaghetti strap cocktail dress that’s short enough to be skimming the mid of her thigh. The slit riding the dress up higher is just plain dangerous. 

She’s facing you, back arched and ass resting on the cliff of your knee. Your clawed hand supports her at the small of her back. Her perfume is strong and complimenting, the sweet bouquet of lavender rolls over the exposed tops of her breasts from her even more exposed neck. Her plump, red lips move in a way that’s hypnotic. “So I hear you’re going to be a bargaining chip for Wanda Maximoff.”

“Where’d you hear that?” you scoff with a flick of your chin. 

“I have spies who whisper to me,” she answers with a swift quirk of her brow. 

Of course she overheard the news. She then chuckles softly, and all eyes watch her with a level of suspicion. “She won’t take any deal you offer her. She’s determined to steer clear of your little gang wars over in the states.”

“Rumlow killed her brother and he has bases around our territories. Wouldn’t she appreciate the extra hands in catching the rat?” Bucky poses the question with a dark brow angled high and clenched jaw, the muscles in his cheeks flex harder when Natasha offers no affirmative response; a mark to hopefully land you in the door and good graces with the heiress. 

“You really think she wants a guard dog?” 

“Hey,” you growl with a wrinkle of your nose, fangs on the precipice of baring at her. How she used the term in a condescending manner made the fur beneath your skin bristle. Sam claps a hand to your shoulder, somehow able to sense the seething anger within you. 

“We just want to help. Offer support for her loss and bring Rumlow down.”

“No. You want a foothold in Europe. And I’m sorry but…” She looks you up and down, drinking in the sight of you and you know she can see you without your clothes on. “You’re not going to cut it, babe.”

She turns her body to make her getaway but you don’t let her slip away just like that. She gasps and looks to you with a furrowed glare when your arm circles her waist and tugs her back until she’s flush against you, the men in your company watch with trepidation of your next course of action.

“I will cut it because whether she wants to admit it or not, she needs us.”

Natasha’s eyes, true to her fashion, darken with a challenge. “You’re wasting your time. She’ll get Rumlow herself.”

“And if Rumlow plans to get her first?” For a moment you see the doubt cross her face. “That’s where she needs me.”

“Tony Stark.” Each of the men turn to the voice behind them and their once cool and collected selves turn rigid, nervous under the power one woman can hold so absolute, her green eyes scan each of their faces before they land on you. 

You finally look and meet her stare, still holding Natasha against you even as she tries to push away from you. 

“Unhand her,” the woman commands with an accented tongue. 

At first, you wanted nothing more than to play this out a little, see what makes this woman tick. But both Tony and Steve look at you, silent in their order, you sigh heavily and release Natasha. Once you do, she wastes no time in joining Wanda’s side with a bow of her head. 

“I hear that you wished to have an audience with me.” 

Wanda is the sole survivor of this ordeal. Her parents were assassinated two years ago and now her brother was killed. This is the stressed matter at hand, her empire could crumble to the ground, all that hard work put into the grave, because she’s being so fucking stubborn with this deal.

“I will not sign my family, nor any of my shares, to Stark Industries. Enough have I done to keep you out of the hands of law enforcement. I will handle Rumlow myself.”

This isn’t how any of you hoped this would go. The grief has made her stronger than before. It wasn’t exactly you were waiting for the chance for her to have a weak spot and try your luck, but you all had thought she might even be at least a little desperate for extra help. 

Natasha’s face says it all: I told you so. You can only roll your eyes and resume with what you’re doing. 

“Miss Maximoff, we only wish to help you. All we ask in return is that you grant us some territory to work with for our trade deals as payment for support lent to you to catch Rumlow.”

Thank you for Reading! (◕ ᴥ x)

TREEHOUSE TAGLIST — (Even though I doubt this is worth putting the taglist on, here it is anyway)

@alexawynters

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

Xander's Basic Info

Name: Alexander Luciano Fletcher

My faceclaims for Xander were really easy to come by and, after a bit of consideration, we have James Dean (Rebel Without A Cause) for the 60s, Jason Bateman (Teen Wolf Too) for the 80s, James FGranco (Freaks and Geeks) for the 90s, and Hero Fiennes Tiffin (After) for the present day.

Nicknames: Xander (so much it’s practically his name now), Xandie (ah, yes, the nickname bestowed upon him by the psychopath I used to love writing, Hornet), Alex (only his mom really called him that), Lucky (his close guy friends gave him the nickname after the gangster Lucky Luciano)

Age: 20

Date of Birth: January 30

Zodiac: Aquarius

Birthstone: Garnet

Nationality: Italian-American

Sexuality: Straight

Birthplace: Oviedo, Florida

Current Residence: Pasadena on the Gulf, St. Petersburg, Florida

Occupation: Mechanic and Sparx’s leader

Talents/Skills: Can take apart any vehicle and rebuild it from memory, 

Birth order: Oldest of six - the rest are half-siblings

Siblings: Donald “Donny” Frances (15), Betty “Millie” Millicent (13), Woodrow “Woody” Edward (12), Anita “Bee” Beatrice (10), and Philippa “Pippa” Bryony (7)

Parents: Andrew Lewis Fletcher and Emilia Celeste Bandoni

Step-father: Hamish Alton Sallow

Signature:

Height: 6’1”

Race: White

Eye Color: Hazel

Hair Color: Dark blonde, but tends to look darker during the winter and early spring

Glasses or contact lenses: Refuses to buy any despite needing them

Distinguishing features: Stab wound scar on his abdomen and multiple tattoos on his arms - most obvious being a dragon that curls around his left forearm and some barbed wire on his right bicep.

Mannerisms: Constantly fidgets with the ring Juliet gave him - even after the breakup - and he always scans a room as he enters it - something he learned after nearly being shot multiple times.

Health: He smokes despite his lungs being shitty and drinks a lot more than he should

Hobbies: Basketball, hunting, football, singing, though he would never tell a soul about it, and repairing vehicles, particularly motorcycles and his “special project” - a 1934 Ford Fordor Deluxe sedan - more infamously known as the car Bonnie and Clyde were in when they got into their shootout with the cops.

Greatest flaw (in their opinion): Attachments, especially when it comes to Juliet. In Xander’s eyes, his attachments make him weak. His step-father used his love for his siblings against him until the day he moved out of the house and, although deep down, he doesn’t like it, he uses that same tactic against others. He figures that, if he knows what people care about most, he can control and manipulate them to do what he wants. What he doesn’t always remember, however, is that his own weakness is plain as day for anyone who so much as looks at him. 

Best quality (in their opinion): Xander sometimes claims that the best thing about him is his love for Juliet, but if he had to be honest, he would most likely say the way he can alter his personality at the drop of a hat to blend in with the people he’s around.

Biggest fear: Hornet Admitting defeat. Regardless of whether or not he’s down and bleeding with no visible way out of whatever situation he finds himself stuck in, Xander will fight to find a way out, even if it puts himself and those around him in danger. For him, admitting defeat is worse than being shot or stabbed or basically any other outcome. He’s a fighter to the bitter end, even to his own detriment.

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Favorite ice cream: The Void (black-colored vanilla ice cream with cherry swirls and vanilla cookie pieces)

Favorite color: Yellow, ironically. Juliet asked him what his favorite color was on their first date, but he didn’t have an answer. She instead tried to guess and, when she guessed yellow, he went with it. Now, it truly is his favorite and he has her to thank for it.

Favorite number: 6, the number of kids he would like to have someday

Favorite songs: Don’t Matter by Kings of Leon, Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths, and Icarus by Bastille

A place they want to visit: Athens, Greece

[byneddiedingo]

Tony Curtis and Burt Lancaster in Sweet Smell of Success (Alexander Mackendrick, 1957)

Cast: Burt Lancaster, Tony Curtis, Susan Harrison, Martin Milner, Jeff Donnell, Sam Levene, Joe Frisco, Barbara Nichols, Emile Meyer, Edith Atwater. Screenplay: Clifford Odets, Ernest Lehman, based on a novel by Lehman. Cinematography: James Wong Howe. Art direction: Edward Carrere. Film editing: Alan Crosland Jr. Music: Elmer Bernstein.

What do Sweet Smell of Success, His Girl Friday (Howard Hawks, 1940), Sullivan's Travels (Preston Sturges, 1941), and The Searchers (John Ford, 1956) have in common? They are all among the critically acclaimed films that, among other honors, have been selected for inclusion in the National Film Registry of the Library of Congress. And none of them received a single nomination in any category for the Academy Awards. Sweet Smell is, of course, a wickedly cynical film about two of the most egregious anti-heroes, New York newspaper columnist J.J. Hunsecker (Burt Lancaster) and press agent Sidney Falco (Tony Curtis), ever to appear in a film. They make the gangsters of Francis Ford Coppola's and Martin Scorsese's films look like Boy Scouts. So given the inclination of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences to stay on the good side of columnists and publicists, we might expect it to shy away from honoring the film with Oscars. But consider the categories in which it might have been nominated. The best picture Oscar for 1957 went to The Bridge on the River Kwai (David Lean), a respectable choice, and Sidney Lumet's tensely entertaining 12 Angry Men certainly deserved the nomination it received. But in what ways are the other nominees -- Peyton Place (Mark Robson), Sayonara (Joshua Logan), and Witness for the Prosecution (Billy Wilder) -- superior to Sweet Smell?  The best actor Oscar winner was Alec Guinness for The Bridge on the River Kwai, another plausible choice. But Tony Curtis gave the performance of his career as Sidney Falco, overcoming his "pretty boy" image -- in fact, the film makes fun of it: One character refers to him as "Eyelashes" -- by digging deep into his roots growing up in The Bronx. Burt Lancaster would win an Oscar three years later for Elmer Gantry (Richard Brooks), a more showy but less controlled performance than the one he gives here. Either or both of them would have been better nominees than Marlon Brando was for his lazy turn in Sayonara, Anthony Franciosa in A Hatful of Rain (Fred Zinnemann), Charles Laughton in Witness for the Prosecution, and Anthony Quinn in Wild Is the Wind (George Cukor). The dialogue provided by Clifford Odets and Ernest Lehman for the film crackles and stings -- there is probably no more quotable, or stolen from, screenplay, yet it went unnominated. So did James Wong Howe's eloquent black-and-white cinematography, showing off the neon-lighted Broadway in a sinister fashion, and Elmer Bernstein's atmospheric score mixed well with the jazz sequences featuring the Chico Hamilton Quintet. Even the performers in the film who probably didn't merit nominations make solid contributions: Martin Milner is miscast as the jazz musician who falls for Hunsecker's sister (Susan Harrison), but he hasn't yet fallen into the blandness of his famous TV roles on Route 66 and Adam-12, and Barbara Nichols, who had a long career playing floozies in movies and on TV, is surprisingly touching as Rita, one of the pawns Sidney uses to get ahead. As a director, Alexander Mackendrick is best known for the comedies he did at Britain's Ealing Studios with Alec Guinness, The Man in the White Suit (1951) and The Ladykillers (1955). His work on Sweet Smell was complicated by clashes with Lancaster, who was one of the film's executive producers, and after making a few more films he accepted a position at the film school at the California Institute of the Arts in 1967, where he spent the rest of his career.

[fuckyeahlabynight]

Whether you’re already a fan of LA by Night or just discovering Vampire actual plays, the series is a great starting point for fresh undead drama. 

New York By Night follows two coteries of young vampires as they struggle to find their place amid the dark schemes of New York City’s undead underworld. Season one represents the Anarch story, focusing on a group of four Kindred who are fed up with living under the Camarilla’s strict rules.

Season two, airing later this year, brings us the Camarilla coterie and its focus on maintaining both the Masquerade and the faction’s grip on power in the city. 

Both the Anarch and Camarilla coteries begin their story separately but are on a collision course through a parallel narrative in season three, an innovation from the team that pioneered L.A. by Night. 

“This chronicle takes place in the same continuity as LA by Night,” said Jason Carl, the Storyteller and host of the show. “And if you have played Coteries of New York and Shadows of New York you might recognize some familiar names and faces as the chronicle takes place in the time immediately between the events of these two narrative experiences.”

Meet the Anarchs

New York By Night Season 1 features both veteran World of Darkness cast in new roles and newcomers to the Vampire: The Masquerade story world. The Anarch cast lineup for season one includes:

Alexander Ward as Isaac Brooke: A Tzimisce gangster seeking to understand himself, Isaac is building a criminal network to advance his clandestine plans..

Mayanna Beren as Serif: Dealing with a difficult and dangerous past, Serif is a Ravnos tagger looking for artistic freedom.

Aabria Iyengar as Margot “Fuego” Walker: Margot is a Ventrue intent on protecting her neighborhood from enemies both living and undead.

Joey Rassool as Reyes Malcolm: Attempting to return to the life he lost, Reyes is a Gangrel who finds himself in conflict with everybody.

Jason Carl as the Storyteller: The host and creator of L.A. By Night returns to the role of Storyteller in this new series.